Punch (74.1878)

July 6, 1878.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

THE night was dark ; only a far-off gleam on the horizon gave faint and doubtful promise of a better day. The low
rumbling of recent thunder rolled in the distance. Flashes of lightning ever and anon told of an atmosphere still
charged with electricity, even if this had not been proclaimed by the sulphurous and stifling air.
But what is this discord that bursts upon the darkness?

Squeakings and shriekings, groanings aud gaspings, grumblings in vc-Ued bnsso prqfondo alternating with squeals in
agonising alto, confusion worse confounded of sharps and flats, dominants and subdomioants, crotchets and quavers, diplomatic
semitones and undiplomatic protests—mingled squawkiugs as of strings violently pulled many ways, blarings as of brass,
wailings as of wind—

Never did more horrible charivari make night more hideous.

"Confound the cats!" murmured Punch, as he turned uneasily on his hot and rumpled pillow.
" Not cats, Master," growled Toby, from his post of guard at the bed-side; " only the Berlin Orchestra tuning for the
European Concert."

It was hard to believe that the long promised Concert was coming off at last. But Punch can trust his
watch-dog.

The Master was wide-awake at once, up and dressed, and deep in the list of the principal performers which Toby had
handed to him.

Beaconsfield and Bismarck, to alternate the duties of Conductor and First-Fiddle ; Salisbury for Beaconsfield's
Second-Fiddle ; Schouvaloff, Big-Drum and Leader of the Prussian Horn Band ; Andrassy, Ophicleide ; Waddington,
Flute and French Cor de Chasse; Corti, Viol da Gamha; Mehemet, Cymbals, Tambourine, and Turkish Crescent;
Roumanian Guzla, Greek Lyre, Jew's-harp, and other minor instruments incidental to the Concert, by Messrs. Bratiano,
Delyannis, the Leaders of the Israelitish Alliance, and others.

" Quite a star-orchestra," murmured the Master. " What a pity they didn't get it together two years ago ! Why
should Europe have had to wade her way to her concert through a sea of blood, across a waste of war strewed with hideous
wreck of massacre, athwart mieery untold—famine and death, and outrage worse than death ? And what a discord by
way of introduction ! But the more trouble in tuning, the more chance, let us hope, of harmony to come."

So saying, but with a sigh of misgiving, Punch made his way to the concert-room through a double row of
Special Correspondents who bowed respectfully as he passed.

Beaconsfield, baton in hand, was at his side in a twinkling—leaving his seat, for a moment, to Salisbury, his
Second-Fiddle, who seemed ill at ease under the new responsibility. Was he thinking of the Conference of Constantinople,
and what it came to ?

" What can I do for you, my dear and illustrious confrere! " exclaimed Beaconsfield, blandly, as he made a move-
ment to take Punch's hand.