Punch: Punch (75.1878)

October 26, 1878.]

PUNCH, OE THE LONDON CHAEIVAKI.

183

THE RISE AND FALL OF THE JACK SPRATTS.

A Tale of Modem Art and Fashion.

[Paet VHIJ

We will not follow Mrs. Speatt through all the steps of her
downward social career, nor describe how she, who had seen Dukes,
Ambassadors, and Princes at her feet, had for a time to condescend
to grovelling Honourables, and fall back on Baronets again, and even
put up with Knights from the City: how she rouged, and blanched,
and violet-powdered, and blackened her under-lids, and auricoma'd
and soda'd her beautiful black hair till half of it turned red, and
the rest fell off; how she dressed more extravagantly than ever,
and became extremely High Church, and sat in tableaux vivants,
held stalls at fashionable bazaars, sang Offenbach and Lecocq at
private theatricals, with short skirts on, &c, &c.

Even the Knights and Baronets failed her at last, and their dames
ignored.

For some little while longer the would-be fashionable people—the
hangers-on at the tail-end of Society, who had not yet received the
straight tip about the sculptor's wife, or couldn't get her—would
still ask Mrs. Speatt, in spite of the snubs she had showered on
them the preceding year. And much as she sickened at the contact
of their vulgarity—for what can be more vulgar than second or
third-rate people of fashion ?—she was glad of their countenance as
long as it lasted. But even this was withdrawn in time, and she
fell out of the hollow world of fashion altogether. The hollow
world had grown sick of the Spbatts, and dropped them—beauty,
genius, sock-darning, and all!

And you may be sure that, warned by Mr. Punch, Poetical Justice
was at hand, with scales inexorably poised, and sword on high!
And heavily did she smite them as they fell; and thus ran her
decrees:—

Firstly,—That John Speatt should become a bankrupt—which
he did. And straightway that beautiful old red-brick dwelling,
where they had lived since they were first married, and might have
lived happily ever after, was placarded all over with unsightly
bills, and defiled from garret to basement by the muddy hoof of
the ubiquitous Hebrew broker; and all their household gods
were bared to the vulgar gaze; and every stick of their quaint old
furniture was sold under the hammer, without reserve ; and not a
wrack was left behind to tell the wretched tale of ruin, except eight
huge, frameless, staring Sock-darners, which nobody could be in-

duced to buy, nor even take away for the sake of the canvass on
which they were painted.

Secondly,—That the said John Speatt be written down a FOOL, so
that his fame as such should reach tbe uttermost ends of the earth,
and endure thereon so long as the English tongue be spoken.

And, straightway, Mr. Punch took up his pencil and his pen, and
wrote the story of the said John Speatt, and stamped the likeness
of the same in ink that cannot fade.

" And think thyself lucky, thou miserable Speatt," exclaimed
P. J. in her sternest accents, "that thy name should go down to
endless posterity uncoupled with a still more disgraceful epithet! "

" Hear! hear ! " shouted Mr. P.

" Silence ! ! " vociferated P. J.

Thirdly, and lastly—(and here P. J. frowned ominously through
the bandage that veils her impartial eyes)—That Mrs. John Speatt,
wife of the above, and mother of his children-But what is this ?

Oh! Woman, lovely Woman! ever since Troy became a heap of ashes
(and even before !) what evil hast thou left unwrought, what wild and
wicked things have not been done for thy sweet beauty's sake ? And
yet oh ! to what base weakness hast thou brought the hearts of the
sons of men, that even at the bare thought of thee crouching in
shame and terror, and bathed in tears, the righteously indignant,
but alas ! too susceptible Punch should falter in his just intent, and
be foiled of his own set purpose at the eleventh hour!

For lo! he sinks him on his bended knee, and respectfully ventures
to intercede on behalf of his most unhappy young friend, Mrs. John
Speatt ; he pleads her youth, her inexperience, the blindness of a
silly, fatuous husband, the glittering baits and lures of a heartless,
hollow world. He furthermore points out that the natural conse-
quences of such a career as hers, if duly set forth, would quite too
awfully harrow his gentle readers' feelings, and might very possibly,
moreover, prove unlit for publication in his light and innocent page!

And behold ! the generous plea prevails, and Poetical Justice, that
greatest of all the Great Unpaid, tempers herself with mercy, and

" sheathes her flaming brand ! "

******

The Speatts are now comfortably settled at Acacia Lodge,_a trim,
well-built modern suburban residence, semi-detached, with gas
and water laid on, Tobin's ventilators, Moeeis's papers, bath-room,
scullery, lawn, summer-house, and all the latest improvements !