DOI Heft:
June 3, 1882
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17752#0261
June 3, 1882.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAKIVAEI.
255
BEFORE THE CYCLUS.
A WARNING.
AFTER THE CYCLUS.
THE MODERN HEUS EX MACHINA.
Scene.—The Alps in the vicinity of the New St. Gothard Tunnel.
The Modern Engineer discovered dominating things in general;
the more than Manfred—in check dittoes— of the scene. To him
enter unperceived the shades of the Carthaginian and Corsican
Colossi.
Napoleon. Great Carthaginian, a greater than either of us stands
there !
Hannibal. What, that unheroic-looking personage in broadcloth
and billycock, mightier than the Scourge of Rome and the Conqueror
of Europe ?
Napoleon. 'Well, not he himseif, perhaps, hut what he represents,
if that which endures and progresses be greater than that which
tiarnes and passes. Science, guiding the boring-machine and the
loeomotive, eclipses the fame of Genius wielding the sword and
swaying the legion.
Hannihal. True, Corsican. And yet—well he does not look even
a Makcellus, and one of my Gauls could have swallowed him body
and boots. It seems to me that your vaunted Science dwarfs the
Hero, and magnifies the Dwarf.
Napoleon. Ah!
“ Jupiter livre le monde
Aux Myrmidons, aux Myrmidons! ”
as Beranger chanted. So the Colossi are apt to think. But Science
has now “ the biggest battalions,” and can arm them best.
Hannihal. You mean she is the modern Providence.
Napoleon. And the Engineer the modern deus ex rnachind.
Hannihal. I do not somehow feel impelled to bow to your new
Mechanical Divinity.
Napoleon. He doesn’t look a Cloud-compeller, eh ? Less imposing
than yourself. for instance-as History drew you.
Hannihal. Or than you— as David painted you.
Napoleon (smiling). Poor David ! Wonder he didn’t mount me
on the hippogriff at once. As a matter of fact, my Pegasus was a
mule. Admit, mon ami, that, after all, we “ heroes ” have been not
a little indebted to the “ property-men ” of History and of Art.
Hannibal. Could yonder complacent-looking person have taken a
host of Africans and Spaniards, or of Frenchmen, across the Alps as
they were in my time or yours ?
Napoleon. No ; but he can enable an army of tourists and of bag-
men to cross, themselves, in safety and comfort, without loss of life,
and with little expenditure of—shall we say vinegar ?
Hanmhal. Tourists and bagmen ? Bah !
Napoleon. Better perhaps—for the world’s present work at least—
than your gigantic Gauls and bellicose Numidians.
Hannibal. Ah ! I suspect you are right, Corsican, and that we—
to use the idiom of one of your bagmen—are “ not in it ” now with
that mighty Demiurgus, the Modern Engineer.
[ They softly and silently vanish away—like Eoojums.
Electric LigLts.
High runs the price of each Electric Share
That scarce a moment in the market lingers;
But wise men have been oft heard to declare
Electric lights will burn investing fingers.
BLACK AND RED
Ie any compact be made between the Government and the Irish
raalcontents, it should not be written in black and white, but recorded
in black and red.
“I know,” said Mrs. Ramsbotham, “there’s a wine grown in
Iient as well as hops. Let mesee—what’s the name of it ? Oh,
yes, I remember ; it ’s Chateau Margate !”
Canzonet eor the Ivhedive.—“ 0, Arabi, dear Arabi ! ”—
Oheron, C. M. von Weber. To be arranged as a Canonzonette for
Military Bands.
An Arriere Pensee.—The Arrears Bill.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAKIVAEI.
255
BEFORE THE CYCLUS.
A WARNING.
AFTER THE CYCLUS.
THE MODERN HEUS EX MACHINA.
Scene.—The Alps in the vicinity of the New St. Gothard Tunnel.
The Modern Engineer discovered dominating things in general;
the more than Manfred—in check dittoes— of the scene. To him
enter unperceived the shades of the Carthaginian and Corsican
Colossi.
Napoleon. Great Carthaginian, a greater than either of us stands
there !
Hannibal. What, that unheroic-looking personage in broadcloth
and billycock, mightier than the Scourge of Rome and the Conqueror
of Europe ?
Napoleon. 'Well, not he himseif, perhaps, hut what he represents,
if that which endures and progresses be greater than that which
tiarnes and passes. Science, guiding the boring-machine and the
loeomotive, eclipses the fame of Genius wielding the sword and
swaying the legion.
Hannihal. True, Corsican. And yet—well he does not look even
a Makcellus, and one of my Gauls could have swallowed him body
and boots. It seems to me that your vaunted Science dwarfs the
Hero, and magnifies the Dwarf.
Napoleon. Ah!
“ Jupiter livre le monde
Aux Myrmidons, aux Myrmidons! ”
as Beranger chanted. So the Colossi are apt to think. But Science
has now “ the biggest battalions,” and can arm them best.
Hannihal. You mean she is the modern Providence.
Napoleon. And the Engineer the modern deus ex rnachind.
Hannihal. I do not somehow feel impelled to bow to your new
Mechanical Divinity.
Napoleon. He doesn’t look a Cloud-compeller, eh ? Less imposing
than yourself. for instance-as History drew you.
Hannihal. Or than you— as David painted you.
Napoleon (smiling). Poor David ! Wonder he didn’t mount me
on the hippogriff at once. As a matter of fact, my Pegasus was a
mule. Admit, mon ami, that, after all, we “ heroes ” have been not
a little indebted to the “ property-men ” of History and of Art.
Hannibal. Could yonder complacent-looking person have taken a
host of Africans and Spaniards, or of Frenchmen, across the Alps as
they were in my time or yours ?
Napoleon. No ; but he can enable an army of tourists and of bag-
men to cross, themselves, in safety and comfort, without loss of life,
and with little expenditure of—shall we say vinegar ?
Hanmhal. Tourists and bagmen ? Bah !
Napoleon. Better perhaps—for the world’s present work at least—
than your gigantic Gauls and bellicose Numidians.
Hannibal. Ah ! I suspect you are right, Corsican, and that we—
to use the idiom of one of your bagmen—are “ not in it ” now with
that mighty Demiurgus, the Modern Engineer.
[ They softly and silently vanish away—like Eoojums.
Electric LigLts.
High runs the price of each Electric Share
That scarce a moment in the market lingers;
But wise men have been oft heard to declare
Electric lights will burn investing fingers.
BLACK AND RED
Ie any compact be made between the Government and the Irish
raalcontents, it should not be written in black and white, but recorded
in black and red.
“I know,” said Mrs. Ramsbotham, “there’s a wine grown in
Iient as well as hops. Let mesee—what’s the name of it ? Oh,
yes, I remember ; it ’s Chateau Margate !”
Canzonet eor the Ivhedive.—“ 0, Arabi, dear Arabi ! ”—
Oheron, C. M. von Weber. To be arranged as a Canonzonette for
Military Bands.
An Arriere Pensee.—The Arrears Bill.