Punch (79.1880)

October 16, 1880.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

169

ROUND ABOUT TOWN.

Madame Tussaud's.

Amongst the many educational establishments of the Modern
Babylon, the far-famed “ Show ” in Baker Street holds a proud and

Krominent position. What the Polytechnic used to be to Science,
[adame Tussaud’s Exhibition is to History—Ancient and Modern.
The Heroes of the Past and the Present are therein represented in a
state of wax “materialisation.” Those who visit the Gallery are
enabled to understand the hidden meaning of many State secrets—
the unsuspected peculiarities of not a few noted individuals.

Full of this solemn consideration, I passed the turnstile, and was
greeted with a stern cry of “ Leave your umbrella! ” I looked up,
and found that I was apparently being ad-
dressed. by the late Charles Dickens, who had
given up literature to attend to the “ sticks
and umbrellas.” The great Novelist held out
his hand for a fee. Respect would have made
me comply with this request, had not a Com-
missionnaire repeated the order even in more
peremptory terms, looking the while over his
shoulder at a policeman standing in the door-
way. Then I rebelled, and walked angrily away
with my property regardless of the consequences,
which were not serious, as the constable was only
a tailor’s dummy. The Representative of the
Civil Power turned out to be a suit of clothes
surmounted with the head of a half-forgotten Somebody—I think
Lord Lytton, for I found him, with General Havelock, Sir Charles
•James Napier and Lord Clyde, erased from the Official Catalogue.
And such is Fame !

I now commenoed my researches, as a Student of History, in
earnest. I had not far to go before I came upon an “ incident ” full
of interest to those who love Italy. Garibaldi was complaining to
Victor Emmanuel that Humbert had stolen his pocket-handker-
chief. The charge was an unfounded one, as the useful article was
reposing in a glass-case under the hero’s very feet. For all this, so
accustomed was the present King of Italy to these accusations of
petty larceny, that he was not taking the trouble to defend himself.
Victor Emmanuel, convinced of his son’s guilt, seemed to be
vigorously upbraiding him in a forcible speech, which apparently
ended with the words, “ And if you must take something from .your
Country’s Friend, why didn’t you choose his cloak ? ” Passing by
Lord Hartington (who apparently uses hair-dye) I came to an
illustration of the Great African Puzzle. Cetewayo (attended by a
couple of wives, who were not laughing, because they had heard all
his j okes a thousand times before) was smilingly asking Sir Garn et
Wolseley a riddle which the modern Wellington was on the eve
of giving up. In the background Lord Chelmseord, in a rich uni-
form, was seen muttering “ how utterly impossible he had found it
to have anything to do with a fellow who would put on a blanket
when he was asked out to dinner ! ” In the next group costume was
again the subject of angry controversy. Lord Brougham and
O’Connell were quarrelling over the respective merits of their long
velvet-collared cloaks. They had called in, as arbitrators, Mr. John
Bright and Mr. Cobden. The former, much annoyed at being
mixed up in such an unpleasant affair, was explaining that really,
“ as a member of the Society of Friends, he knew absolutely nothing
about dress,” while the latter was attempting to create a diversion
by saying, “ Fancy talking about your cloaks ! Why, they are not
a patch upon the one worn by Lord Byron in another part of the
building ! And though you may be proud of
your shirt-frills, you should just see his
diamond pin! ”

I was now met with a murmur of “It isn’t a
hit like him! ” and “ I shouldn’t have known
him again if you hadn’t told me who it was! ”
and found that I was standing in front of a
portrait-model of William Shakspeare. The
poet was a prolific writer, but probably would
have given many more works to Posterity had
he not seemingly, from this presentment of him
“in the habit as he lived,” spent three-quarters
of his waking hours in the arrangement of his
hair! Turning my back upon “the Indian
Group,” which was only remarkable for the
longing gaze bestowed upon it by Mr. Bradlaugh, who seemed
to be tempering his regret with the consideration that, “after
all, if he joined it he couldn’t be of much use, as he had given
up swearing,” I sat down in front of an incident in Palace life,
which roused my loyalty to fever heat. It was the Court of Her
Majesty during an evening party. The Bishop of London was
explaining the figures of a little dance, of his own invention, to
the Duke of Edinburgh, the Princess of Wales, the Duke of Con-
naught, and his charming bride. The latter seemed quite ready to

begin, although the former appeared to be rather uncertain whether
they quite understood all the steps. The Prince of Wales, standing
by the side of his August Mother, was saying, “ Pray excuse me. I
really can't join you in this enormous cloak ; and I don’t like to take
it off, as I am suffering from influenza! ” Mr. Gladstone, on the
other hand, was vainly trying to persuade Lord Stanley, in a
corner, to make a side couple, as “ dancing was excellent exercise
when you couldn’t get any wood-cutting.” The one discordant
note came from the Earl of Shaftesbury, who was talking to Lord
Lorne “like a father.” “No, my son,” the noble Earl was evi-
dently saying, “you shall not partake in this frivolous amusement.
I have a great respect for the Church, hut, for all that, I cannot
help emphasising my extreme displeasure at the whole affair by
turning my back in the most marked manner upon the Bishop of
London ! As we say in another place, the Right Reverend Prelate
is old enough to know better!” “The incident” seemed likely
to be closed by the “ saraband ” being given up in favour of a
hornpipe “kindly favoured” by the late Yiscount Nelson. In
fact, the Hero of Trafalgar had evidently “ shivered his timbers”
as a preliminary to a vigorous double shuffle. The scene was as
charming as it was unconventional!

Leaving this pretty picture of Palace life, I approached Abraham
Lincoln and General Grant severely upbraiding “ President John-
son” for having come to dinner in “ correct evening costume ” (with
the sole exception of the shirt), when they had “ told him not to
dress.” Pleased with this Republican characteristic, I walked away
to the other side of the room, and “ assisted ” at a practical joke illus-
trative of the “habits and customs of the Court of Prussia.” Briefly
General Melikoff was bitterly complaining that the Grand Duke
Nicholas had taken away his helmet, leaving in its stead a plain
white cap in marked contrast with his otherwise handsome uniform.
The Czarewitch was immensely amused at the pleasantry, and was
backing up his relative not to return the General’s helmet, but to
keep it on his own head where it now was placed. The late Emperor
Nicholas, seeing that the warrior was really angry, seemed to be
pouring oil on the waters by offering his hat as “he had no further
use for it.” The Czar was keeping out of the quarrel by saying that
he had “ lost his helmet too,” while the Grand Duke Michael, with
an enormous whip, was evidently of opinion that the best way to settle
the dispute would be “to give thema good knouting all round! ” This
savage scene, so different from the picture of our own peaceful Court,
made me feel that I had acted wisely in being born a Briton.

If I were not confined by space, I could point to a score of other
highly interesting historical episodes. I could tell how Martin
"Luther and John Knox quarrelled with one another—the first de-
fending himself with an enormous pen, the last with a huge book-
while poor Calvin bitterly lamented that he could not with justice
to himself enter into the argument, because he had failed to bring
with him a “really serviceable carving-knife.” I could hint that
Louis Philippe’s intense melancholy was caused by the reflection
that he was next destined for the melting-pot. I could suggest
that Sir "Walter Scott’s unreasonable joy was attributable to the
consideration that his
Highland costume included
“fleshings.” I could ex-
press astonishment that
Hannah Dobbs had been
put in “the Golden Cham-
ber ” as an addition to the
“Napoleon Group.” But
I refrain, and satisfy my-
self by asserting that “the
Congress ” must really be
seen to be appreciated.

Apparently the Ambassa-
dors did not meet at that
Historical Gathering to
consider the Treaty of

Berlin, but to have supper. Then it was that Bismarck, with his
usual love for rough waggery, tried to persuade the Turk that two
cocked hats and some paper were the usual ingredients of. a
European Banquet. The rest of the company, it is now certain,
backed him up in this mauvaise plaisanteme, Lord Beaconsfield
laughing heartily the while to encourage the belief amo.ng'st his
colleagues that he was intimately acquainted with the subtleties of the
French language. But want of space prevents me, and 1 am silent.

Madame Tussaud’s Exhibition is extremely amusing. It has,
however, a blot, and a bad one, the Chamber of Horrors. I hoped to
be able to say a good word for it, but after the most superficial glance
at its unsavoury contents, I was forced to give up what would have
been a pleasant task in despair. The proprietors, for their own sakes,
should close it at once. It is not only nasty, but demoralising.

“ Bas-Relief” for Temple Bar Memorial Pedestal.—Take
it away. “ For this Relief, much thanks.”

Vol. 79.

d—a