DOI Heft:
November 2, 1878
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17733#0205
November 2, 1878.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
201
r
ON THE WRONG HORSE.
(Hints to a distinguished Captain and Gentleman-Rider entered for
a Military Steeple-Chase.)
nstantly get on your
high horse whenever a
chance offers.
Butter the Government-
no matter how
thick. The more
yon lay on, the
more is likely to
stick.
Talk offhand
about "Im-
perial policy,"
" National po-
licy," and In-
sular policy,"
but don't _ put
your foot in it
ty attempting
to define them.
If hard-up for
matter, try a bit
of clap - trap ;
and if that don't
answer, take to
'"'^^"ll slanging. Here
<=~^r> '' '' - * V ' " '** you will pro-
bably find your-
self at your case. liememb'er the story of the Greek fellow, with
a long name, who set fire to the Temple of Ephesus. If you want
to score, fly at high game.
Carry this out by presenting the most illustrious opponent yon can
select in some ludicrous and contemptible character—say, as a
"washerwoman." Follow this up with an attack on his moral
character, and fling the mud about freely till you have raised an
uproar. Do all this, and a good deal more in the same style, when-
ever you open your mouth—that is, of course, if your object be not
to get into Parliament. Should you, however, change your mind,
and wish to get in, take counsel of Mr. Punch. He likes to watch
the running of spirited young fellows of talent, and his advice
to you is—try another mount.
OUE REPRESENTATIVE MAN.
Sow I found Stanley—St. James's Hall—All in the Dark—Some
Moore—Travellers'1 Next Step—On to the Globe—Les Cloches
de Corneville.
I went to hear Mr. H. Stanley give an account of himself, and
what he did in the Dark Continent—not the Keep-it-Dark Continent
—on "Wednesday last.
His reading,—that is, as much as I could hear of it in three
quarters of an hour, and I don't know for how long it lasted, but I
suppose he has finished by this time,—forcibly recalled to my mind
an anecdote about W. M. Thackeray. After the great novelist had
given his first lecture on The Four Georges, he asked a friend,
experienced in entertainments, what he thought of it, and if he had
any advice to give him. The friend, who was not gifted with the
bump of reverence, and who certainly preferred Albert Smith's
Mont Blanc to anything merely instructive, replied : " Well,
Thack, my boy, it's very good! Oh, yes, it's very good! But,
look here, if you want to make it go, you must have a pianner ! "
And this is exactly what I say to Mr. Stanley. '' Highly in-
teresting, no doubt, only you ought to have a pianner,—and picturs ;
and, what's more, you should leave out all the sentimental, serious,
religious twaddle which was years ago associated with Stiggins'
tea-fights and Exeter-Hallites, and give us something that we
haven't read in your two illustrated volumes."
The answer now to "How I found Stanley?" is, of course, "By
taking tickets for St. James's Hall." How I liked Stanley when
I'd found him, is quite another question, to which I can only
answer, '' Pretty well, thank you." And I dare say he '11 improve on
acquaintance (for I see he is going on lecturing), if he '11 take the
advice above given of a sincere well-wisher, who repeats emphati-
cally, "Let's have pianner and picturs ; let there be no Methody in
yourmadness, but send all that cant to the Princess's, where they '11
put it into Uncle Tom's Cabin, and sing " Hallelujar ! Jordan's a
wide river, boys ! "
Those who went to see Stanley must have been considerably dis-
appointed, as they could only catch a glimpse of a third of him,
sectionally,—the remainder, from the first button of his shirt-front
to his toes, being hidden by a table and a reading-desk, which looked
for all the world as if it had once formed part of an old-fashioned
pulpit. Of course all who were in punctually, saw the entire
Stanley from head to heel, but unless they stopped to the end,
they never saw so much of him again as they got in that one brief
glance when he first walked on to the platform.
The arrangement of the platform and the back-ground is highly
exciting to the imaginative mind, and those accustomed to such
entertainments as are nowadays given in Music-Halls and at the
Aquarium, were expecting great things. The chairs, placed in three
semi-circular rows behind the Lecturer, were eminently suggestive
of an increased band of Nigger Minstrels to join in, at some portion
of the reading, with melodies of their own native land; while a
scaffolding above, reaching right up to the;"dome, high in the air,
struck the initiated in such matters as being put there for Mr.
Stanley to take a header off, into a net below, which woidd be pre-
sently brought forward by the servants on the establishment, while
the nigger in evening dress, who was at first supposed to be a Christy
Minstrel escaped from a lower room in the Hall, would throw the
Lecturer a trapeze, when the organ would strike up, " We Fly by
Night," and the Daring Traveller, who had gone through the Black
Continent and come out safely the other side, would fly through the
air, and, amid the deafening cheers of his admirers, would land on
the front railing of the opposite gallery. The Daring Traveller,
however, did nothing of the sort, and those who had expected as
much as this, must have been wofully disappointed.
He might have done it after I had left. I am not prepared with
evidence on this subject; but all I can say is, as he himself says of
his French traveller who tells tales out of school rather at variance
with Mr. Stanley's, " If anyone saw him do it, then he saw what I
did not." (Cheers after this. Why cheers ? It was evidently a
point. But why ?)
Another practical joke—for the above-mentioned arrangement of
chairs and scaffolding up to roof partook of the nature of a practical
joke, or intentional sell,—another practical joke was the Pantomime
Map suspended behind the Daring Traveller. Poor Artemls Ward !
What fun he would have got out of this Map. There were Sahara
and Madagascar on it very large, reminding one of the adventures
of the three sailors who took a boat and went to sea, and perhaps it
was originally intended to say something about—
" I've gone wrong for the sake of Sahara.'''
But the idea was given up at the last moment on account of there
being no pianner. As the Lecturer had told us how he gave Daily-
Telegraphic and New-York-Heraldic names to the lakes and moun-
tains—e.g., Gordon Bennett to a very tall mountain, LakeLawson to
the largest double sheet of water with the largest circulation in the
world—I at first thought that Sahara was a misprint for Sala,
and that, presently, the Intrepid Traveller would point out one spot
where he had erected a finger-post, for the information of future
travellers with " Here Stands a Post" written on it, which central
district he had called the Clement Scottland. But no. On ne
badine pas avec Stanley.
There was a twinkle of great humour, though, in the eye of the
Coloured Gentleman (when the Coloured Gentleman was awake,
which did not appear to be very often) as he sat huddled up help-
lessly on the platform. When he opened his bright eye, he looked
first at the Lecturer, as though to say, "Hallo, Massa Ginger,
still at it?" and then at the Audience, as much as to add, "He's
got you now, and, golly! he won't let you go—I know him ; " and
then he gave a silent chuckle, and dozed off again, meditating per-
haps on whether he had really " bettered " himself by leaving that
jolly old humbug, 'Mtesa, the Star of Africa," and taking
service with the Lecturer. What are the odds against the " Star of
Africa " appearing within the next year at the Aquarium P
His master informed the audience that Massa Sambo didn't under-
stand English ; but I fancy I saw Sambo grinning to himself, as
if saying, quietly, " That's all you know about it, Massa Stamlee."
On the whole, I think this nigger had the best of it, and enjoyed the
whole thing as a big practical joke from beginning to end.
Personally I am grateful to Mr. Stanley for having selected St.
James's Hall for his lecture; as when I did not care about hearing
more up-stairs, I went to hear Moore below.
The Dark Continent, as represented by the Christys, is good
enough for me. I can read Mr. Stanley's book in my own room,
and enjoy it, but it's hard work to be sermonised at from a pulpit
about 'Mtesa, Uguse, and Uganda, in whom, as at present consti-
tuted, I have no interest, except when they are exhibited in the
Moore and Burgess state of civilisation, with white frills, large
watch-chains, diamond studs, ruffles, and wearing decorations given
to them by various potentates.
What a chance Mr. Stanley has lost in not dressing like Robinson
Crusoe and bringing on the real Friday ! A few good songs, some
first-rate dances between Robinson (Stanley) and Friday (the
nigger), and all London would have rushed to him, specially at
Christmastime. Let him take the hint. "It's never too late to
mend," as Mr. Charles Reade says. Friday on the bones,
Robinson on the banjo. " Finding the Footstep," a pas seul. Arrival
201
r
ON THE WRONG HORSE.
(Hints to a distinguished Captain and Gentleman-Rider entered for
a Military Steeple-Chase.)
nstantly get on your
high horse whenever a
chance offers.
Butter the Government-
no matter how
thick. The more
yon lay on, the
more is likely to
stick.
Talk offhand
about "Im-
perial policy,"
" National po-
licy," and In-
sular policy,"
but don't _ put
your foot in it
ty attempting
to define them.
If hard-up for
matter, try a bit
of clap - trap ;
and if that don't
answer, take to
'"'^^"ll slanging. Here
<=~^r> '' '' - * V ' " '** you will pro-
bably find your-
self at your case. liememb'er the story of the Greek fellow, with
a long name, who set fire to the Temple of Ephesus. If you want
to score, fly at high game.
Carry this out by presenting the most illustrious opponent yon can
select in some ludicrous and contemptible character—say, as a
"washerwoman." Follow this up with an attack on his moral
character, and fling the mud about freely till you have raised an
uproar. Do all this, and a good deal more in the same style, when-
ever you open your mouth—that is, of course, if your object be not
to get into Parliament. Should you, however, change your mind,
and wish to get in, take counsel of Mr. Punch. He likes to watch
the running of spirited young fellows of talent, and his advice
to you is—try another mount.
OUE REPRESENTATIVE MAN.
Sow I found Stanley—St. James's Hall—All in the Dark—Some
Moore—Travellers'1 Next Step—On to the Globe—Les Cloches
de Corneville.
I went to hear Mr. H. Stanley give an account of himself, and
what he did in the Dark Continent—not the Keep-it-Dark Continent
—on "Wednesday last.
His reading,—that is, as much as I could hear of it in three
quarters of an hour, and I don't know for how long it lasted, but I
suppose he has finished by this time,—forcibly recalled to my mind
an anecdote about W. M. Thackeray. After the great novelist had
given his first lecture on The Four Georges, he asked a friend,
experienced in entertainments, what he thought of it, and if he had
any advice to give him. The friend, who was not gifted with the
bump of reverence, and who certainly preferred Albert Smith's
Mont Blanc to anything merely instructive, replied : " Well,
Thack, my boy, it's very good! Oh, yes, it's very good! But,
look here, if you want to make it go, you must have a pianner ! "
And this is exactly what I say to Mr. Stanley. '' Highly in-
teresting, no doubt, only you ought to have a pianner,—and picturs ;
and, what's more, you should leave out all the sentimental, serious,
religious twaddle which was years ago associated with Stiggins'
tea-fights and Exeter-Hallites, and give us something that we
haven't read in your two illustrated volumes."
The answer now to "How I found Stanley?" is, of course, "By
taking tickets for St. James's Hall." How I liked Stanley when
I'd found him, is quite another question, to which I can only
answer, '' Pretty well, thank you." And I dare say he '11 improve on
acquaintance (for I see he is going on lecturing), if he '11 take the
advice above given of a sincere well-wisher, who repeats emphati-
cally, "Let's have pianner and picturs ; let there be no Methody in
yourmadness, but send all that cant to the Princess's, where they '11
put it into Uncle Tom's Cabin, and sing " Hallelujar ! Jordan's a
wide river, boys ! "
Those who went to see Stanley must have been considerably dis-
appointed, as they could only catch a glimpse of a third of him,
sectionally,—the remainder, from the first button of his shirt-front
to his toes, being hidden by a table and a reading-desk, which looked
for all the world as if it had once formed part of an old-fashioned
pulpit. Of course all who were in punctually, saw the entire
Stanley from head to heel, but unless they stopped to the end,
they never saw so much of him again as they got in that one brief
glance when he first walked on to the platform.
The arrangement of the platform and the back-ground is highly
exciting to the imaginative mind, and those accustomed to such
entertainments as are nowadays given in Music-Halls and at the
Aquarium, were expecting great things. The chairs, placed in three
semi-circular rows behind the Lecturer, were eminently suggestive
of an increased band of Nigger Minstrels to join in, at some portion
of the reading, with melodies of their own native land; while a
scaffolding above, reaching right up to the;"dome, high in the air,
struck the initiated in such matters as being put there for Mr.
Stanley to take a header off, into a net below, which woidd be pre-
sently brought forward by the servants on the establishment, while
the nigger in evening dress, who was at first supposed to be a Christy
Minstrel escaped from a lower room in the Hall, would throw the
Lecturer a trapeze, when the organ would strike up, " We Fly by
Night," and the Daring Traveller, who had gone through the Black
Continent and come out safely the other side, would fly through the
air, and, amid the deafening cheers of his admirers, would land on
the front railing of the opposite gallery. The Daring Traveller,
however, did nothing of the sort, and those who had expected as
much as this, must have been wofully disappointed.
He might have done it after I had left. I am not prepared with
evidence on this subject; but all I can say is, as he himself says of
his French traveller who tells tales out of school rather at variance
with Mr. Stanley's, " If anyone saw him do it, then he saw what I
did not." (Cheers after this. Why cheers ? It was evidently a
point. But why ?)
Another practical joke—for the above-mentioned arrangement of
chairs and scaffolding up to roof partook of the nature of a practical
joke, or intentional sell,—another practical joke was the Pantomime
Map suspended behind the Daring Traveller. Poor Artemls Ward !
What fun he would have got out of this Map. There were Sahara
and Madagascar on it very large, reminding one of the adventures
of the three sailors who took a boat and went to sea, and perhaps it
was originally intended to say something about—
" I've gone wrong for the sake of Sahara.'''
But the idea was given up at the last moment on account of there
being no pianner. As the Lecturer had told us how he gave Daily-
Telegraphic and New-York-Heraldic names to the lakes and moun-
tains—e.g., Gordon Bennett to a very tall mountain, LakeLawson to
the largest double sheet of water with the largest circulation in the
world—I at first thought that Sahara was a misprint for Sala,
and that, presently, the Intrepid Traveller would point out one spot
where he had erected a finger-post, for the information of future
travellers with " Here Stands a Post" written on it, which central
district he had called the Clement Scottland. But no. On ne
badine pas avec Stanley.
There was a twinkle of great humour, though, in the eye of the
Coloured Gentleman (when the Coloured Gentleman was awake,
which did not appear to be very often) as he sat huddled up help-
lessly on the platform. When he opened his bright eye, he looked
first at the Lecturer, as though to say, "Hallo, Massa Ginger,
still at it?" and then at the Audience, as much as to add, "He's
got you now, and, golly! he won't let you go—I know him ; " and
then he gave a silent chuckle, and dozed off again, meditating per-
haps on whether he had really " bettered " himself by leaving that
jolly old humbug, 'Mtesa, the Star of Africa," and taking
service with the Lecturer. What are the odds against the " Star of
Africa " appearing within the next year at the Aquarium P
His master informed the audience that Massa Sambo didn't under-
stand English ; but I fancy I saw Sambo grinning to himself, as
if saying, quietly, " That's all you know about it, Massa Stamlee."
On the whole, I think this nigger had the best of it, and enjoyed the
whole thing as a big practical joke from beginning to end.
Personally I am grateful to Mr. Stanley for having selected St.
James's Hall for his lecture; as when I did not care about hearing
more up-stairs, I went to hear Moore below.
The Dark Continent, as represented by the Christys, is good
enough for me. I can read Mr. Stanley's book in my own room,
and enjoy it, but it's hard work to be sermonised at from a pulpit
about 'Mtesa, Uguse, and Uganda, in whom, as at present consti-
tuted, I have no interest, except when they are exhibited in the
Moore and Burgess state of civilisation, with white frills, large
watch-chains, diamond studs, ruffles, and wearing decorations given
to them by various potentates.
What a chance Mr. Stanley has lost in not dressing like Robinson
Crusoe and bringing on the real Friday ! A few good songs, some
first-rate dances between Robinson (Stanley) and Friday (the
nigger), and all London would have rushed to him, specially at
Christmastime. Let him take the hint. "It's never too late to
mend," as Mr. Charles Reade says. Friday on the bones,
Robinson on the banjo. " Finding the Footstep," a pas seul. Arrival