Punch (77.1879)

October 11, 1879.] PUNCH, OR, THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

157

" POLITESSE OBLIGE."

Hansom Cabhy (suppressing a volley of imprecations at the tip of Ms tongue, as he'd a Lady
inside —the four-wheeler having narrowly grazed his horse's nose). "'Pray 'ow d'yer like Lon-
don, Srn ? "

BEFORE THE VOTE.

Ratepayers' Reflections— Various.

Though I read the whole of Sir Charles
Reed's speech carefully through, can I
make head or tail of the true merits of the
School-Board question ?

Am I really very very deeply interested
in the Education of the Country ?

Would I, hut for the threat of a sum-
mons, further its development by quietly
paying one-and-twopence in the pound ?

Would I ever pay so much as the two-
pence even without the shilling ?

Would I, in fact, if I could help it, pay
anything at all P

Am 1 really and truly horrified when told
that, unless I do, 400 391 children will
arrive at maturity, without ever making
the acquaintance of the " Three R.'s ? "

Do not I think that the "Three R.'s"
may he supplemented by the "Three D.'s,"
and that while appealed to for "Reading,
Writing, and Arithmetic," I am in effect sup-
plying '' Dancing, Divinity, and Dynamics ?"

Need the ordinary buildings of a Metro-
politan Board School tower above the
neighbourhood, and strongly resemble the
new Law Courts?

How do I know, if this costliness con-
tinue, that high-art needle-work, drawing
in crayons, and harp playing, may not
become part of the recognised curriculum
of the common domestic drudge ?

Ought the son of my tinker to he re-
ceiving, out of my pocket, a better educa-
tion in the next street than my son is
getting at Eton ?

Has all t hat I have heard about ridiculous
fads, misdirected training, high salaries,
extravagant structures, and general and
lavish waste of the public money put me at
last on my mettle about this "School
Board " business ?

Am I, on the whole, in that calm and
quite dispassionate frame of mind that will
enable me to give a highly edifying and
satisfactory vote on the 27 th November next?

Motto for the Came of Lawn-Tennis.
-"The Deuce is in it! "

THE JESTER'S JUDGMENT.

To Punch's open judgment-seat two queer appellants came,
One grave and of a sombre look, and Stultus was his name;
The other, call him Fatuus, was of a gayer guise,
But something red about the nose and wrinkled round the eyes.
Cried Stultus, " Lo ! this chuckling clown is ever on the grin,
And sniggers in a chronic way that verges upon sin.
He travesties the serious, the sacred, the sublime,
To furnish matter for a mirfh that borders on a crime."
" He ! he ! " forth cackled Fatuus, " this prim and pompous prig
Is as incapable of jest as Behemoth of a jig ;
And since he has no sense of fun, no eye for the absurd,
He'd put an end to joking—a rare joke, upon my word! "
" Not so," quoth Stultus ; " but this fool's irreverent burlesque
Fast robs us of the passionate, the pure, the picturesque;
He lowers our ideals with his daubings, and debases
The—well, the moral currency, by making ugly faces."
" Yah ! " Fatuus cried, " he simply lacks the faculty called risible ;
And the most rare and screaming joke to him is just invisible.
Unknowing that Creation's full of what is queer and chaffable,
He rages at us funny folk. It's really very laughable."
" Buffoon ! " shrieked Stultus, scornfully. " Base parody of Mirth!"
"Sour old Smelf'ungus!" Fatuus cried, "you'd make a grave of
Earth!

" Come, shut up that! " said Mr. Punch* " We can't have brawling
here!

You've neither of you any genuine sense of fun, that's clear."

" No sense of fun ? " howled Fatuus. Cried Punchius, " Not a bit!

You're destitute of humour, as he's wholly void of wit.

Of two egregious kinds of bores, you're samples, you and he.

For Stultus cannot see a joke, and you nought else can see.

And he who has no vision save for fun, sees that askew.

Therefore, of the two sorts of bores, I give the palm to you.

The man who'd willingly debase Ideals that should rule,

May dub himself a Jester, but he is a graceless fool.

Yet the absurd in places the most unexpected lurks,

And to drag it into daylight is the usefullest of works.

Oft in the poet's ardour, the philosopher's vague dreams,

The zealot's hasty search of ends and lofty scorn of means,

Hides the Ridiculous, which, like the rift within the lute,

Shall jangle the philosophy and leave the minstrel mute._

Swift Humour sees and seizes it, mayhap, to make it plain

To men of dull perception and sluggish gait of brain,

Exaggerates to emphasise, not seeking to belie,

But point by sly extravagance the truth it would imply.

Sense s-ees and takes cum grano, but sometimes the Seer and Sage,

Blind to the small absurdities that blot their brightest page,

Resent detective Humour's quest which in them dares find fun,

Flaws in the savant's theories, spots on the poet's sun.

Nose-chipping Clown ! they hotly cry, confounding him with you,

Ob, ever-giggling Fatuus ! You see the harm you do !

We humorists should keep our calm, however Seers insult us;

1 hat's shameful in a Jester which is natural to Stultus.

Absurdity's my quarry, but I never hit on yet

A thing that's more preposterous than a Jester in a pet.

The Sage may rage, the Bard may rate, without incurring shame,

But Humour prone to tantrums is unworthy of the name.

Therefore, my precious pair, great Punch will not be wrath with you,

Or with greater ones who flout him, though they scold till all is blue.

You are both besotted boobies, but a moral you may point

To Seers who say the Jester jokes Ideals out of joint,—

Namely, there are two sorts of fools, who 're deadly foes to fun ;

One cannot smile at a fair joke, one giggles when there's none."

vol. Lxxvrr.

p