DOI issue:
February 3, 1883
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17754#0060
52
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [February 3, 1883,
A RISING JUNIOR.
Old Lady (at the Law Courts). “ Could you kindly Dikkct me, Sik, to-11
Young Briefless. “My dear Madam, I’m a perfect Stranger myself—
don’t THINK I ’VE BEEN IN A COURT FOR THE LAST TWENTY YEARS ! ”
GUSTAVE DQRE.
A world of wild, invention suddenly
Struck from the golden galaxy of Art!
There Titan phantasy toiled at tasks to try,
A Briareus of dreams. To plumb and chart,
Those gulfs of vision grandiose and grim,
Were work beyond the timid souls who coast
Safe shores of commonplace, whom wizard Whim,
Lured never to wild water-wastes; whose boast,
Is go-cart loyalty to the dull round
Of their pedestrian plodder, misnamed Truth,—
The meagre marionette in whom is found,
Nor manhood’s fiery force nor grace of youth.
Core is dead ! Scarce early, for the days
Of the creator are not measured quite
By custom’s clock ; yet all too soon the rays
Fade from his world, where almost every light,
Save the slow-growing gleam of Beauty, shone.
Duller at least our world that his wild world is gone.
“ O Freedom, what Strange Things are done
in thy Name I ”
The Needlemakers’ Company have presented the free-
dom of their Guild to the Duke of Tech, in recognition
of “ the important services he rendered during the
Egyptian War.” Yery nice of the Needlemakers, of
course, but—where is the connection ? It is to be hoped
the Company’s needles have more point than their com-
pliments. If they had presented the Duke with a
Cleopatra’s Needle, now, fancy might have found some
meaning in the gift. As it is, it seems about as appro-
priate—and doubtless as welcome—as presenting a de-
serving postman with a packet of pins.
Cold Comfort.
What ! Out in the cold ? Clever Goscren ? Not he I
He’s simply “ dissembling his love ” is J. G.
But W. G., plagued ’twixt Tewfik and Dillon,
Would like something warmer than love with the chill on.
He’d not kick ’em down-stairs, his dear friends, yet they
doubt;
Though not “out in the cold,” he appears “cold with-
out.”
ART TOO MUCH AT HOME.
“ If friends and visitors are not entitled to the diversion of tracing the cha-
racter of their hosts in the tables and sofas they have lived up to and beyond,
at least to themselves nothing can be more instructive than the sermons
which discarded goods mutter from their melancholy lumber-room.”—
Morning Paper.
Scene—Interior of Mr. and Mrs. Plantagenet de Smythe’s pala-
tial drawing-room in their magnificent Mansion at South Ken-
sington. A party of Visitors have been just ushered in by a
powdered footman, and are waiting the appearance of their host
and hostess.
Lady de Snookyns [seating herself in an arm-chair). Quite new
peoxile these, but your father insisted that we should call upon them,
my dears. Papa said that he believed Mr. De Smythe had some
property in our part of the country, and that it was best to conciliate
all possible constituents. So, let us take stock of them before they
come.down. So begin, dears, at once, your tour of inspection.
College ! ^noo^ns' ^h, Mamma, here is a photograph of Eton
Lady de Snookyns. Evidently sent a son there !
Miss Mary. And a coat-of-arms of Lincoln’s-Inn.
Lady de Snookyns. Got a boy at the Bar.
. Miss Blanche. And, oh, Mamma, dear, here is such a sweet
picture of the late Archbishop.
Lady de Snookyns. Another son in the Church.
Miss Emily. And look, Mamma, here is a picture of a charge of
cavalry.
Lady de Snookyns. A lad in the Army. Dear me ! They seem to
be partial to the professions ! A bad sign !
Miss de Snookyns. And, Mamma, such a beautiful Japanese
screen!
Lady de Snookyns. Rather new! Hem! Must have taken the
house ready furnished for them !
Miss Emily. And look at this strange-shaped sofa !
Lady de Snookyns. New in Oxford Street, but old in Spain! They
have evidently newer travelled abroad !
Miss Blanche. And oh, Mamma, isn’t this sweet ? Such a lovely
hot-house rose !
Lady de Snookyns. In an inappropriate flower-pot! Don’t know
any clever people ! An Artist would have pointed out the mistake !
Dear me, they must he absolutely out of any sort of society ! I think
your father might have spared us this infliction.
Miss Emily. And here is a menu of their last dinner.
Lady de Snookyns [glancing at it). Three brown entrees one after
the other! The husband (who probably has been accustomed in early
life to Irish stew) evidently thinks he knows how to order a dinner,
and has a weak-minded French cook ! Worse and worse !
Miss de Snookyns [opening a cupboard). And, oh, Mamma, dear,
what is this strange thing ?
Lady de Snookyns. A scoop used for tasting cheese. [Aside.) Just
like one my poor grandfather used to have in his shop! [Aloud.)
Oh, my dears, my dears, we must get away as quickly as possible!
The parent of either Mr. or Mrs. de Smythe must have been a retail
butter-man!
[ General exclamation of horror and hurried preparation for
departure.
Powdered Footman [throwing open doors). Mr. and Mrs. Plan-
taoenet de Smythe! \_Cordial greetings and Curtain,
Mrs. Ramsbotham has written to her nephew at Trinity Hall to
ask him to send her some of the Cambridge Tripos, which she
understands is quite as good in its way as the Cambridge sausages.
New Reading.—[By one whose hair has gone prematurely grey),—
Whom the gods don't love dye young !
New Name eor a Wealthy Husband.—A cheque-mate.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [February 3, 1883,
A RISING JUNIOR.
Old Lady (at the Law Courts). “ Could you kindly Dikkct me, Sik, to-11
Young Briefless. “My dear Madam, I’m a perfect Stranger myself—
don’t THINK I ’VE BEEN IN A COURT FOR THE LAST TWENTY YEARS ! ”
GUSTAVE DQRE.
A world of wild, invention suddenly
Struck from the golden galaxy of Art!
There Titan phantasy toiled at tasks to try,
A Briareus of dreams. To plumb and chart,
Those gulfs of vision grandiose and grim,
Were work beyond the timid souls who coast
Safe shores of commonplace, whom wizard Whim,
Lured never to wild water-wastes; whose boast,
Is go-cart loyalty to the dull round
Of their pedestrian plodder, misnamed Truth,—
The meagre marionette in whom is found,
Nor manhood’s fiery force nor grace of youth.
Core is dead ! Scarce early, for the days
Of the creator are not measured quite
By custom’s clock ; yet all too soon the rays
Fade from his world, where almost every light,
Save the slow-growing gleam of Beauty, shone.
Duller at least our world that his wild world is gone.
“ O Freedom, what Strange Things are done
in thy Name I ”
The Needlemakers’ Company have presented the free-
dom of their Guild to the Duke of Tech, in recognition
of “ the important services he rendered during the
Egyptian War.” Yery nice of the Needlemakers, of
course, but—where is the connection ? It is to be hoped
the Company’s needles have more point than their com-
pliments. If they had presented the Duke with a
Cleopatra’s Needle, now, fancy might have found some
meaning in the gift. As it is, it seems about as appro-
priate—and doubtless as welcome—as presenting a de-
serving postman with a packet of pins.
Cold Comfort.
What ! Out in the cold ? Clever Goscren ? Not he I
He’s simply “ dissembling his love ” is J. G.
But W. G., plagued ’twixt Tewfik and Dillon,
Would like something warmer than love with the chill on.
He’d not kick ’em down-stairs, his dear friends, yet they
doubt;
Though not “out in the cold,” he appears “cold with-
out.”
ART TOO MUCH AT HOME.
“ If friends and visitors are not entitled to the diversion of tracing the cha-
racter of their hosts in the tables and sofas they have lived up to and beyond,
at least to themselves nothing can be more instructive than the sermons
which discarded goods mutter from their melancholy lumber-room.”—
Morning Paper.
Scene—Interior of Mr. and Mrs. Plantagenet de Smythe’s pala-
tial drawing-room in their magnificent Mansion at South Ken-
sington. A party of Visitors have been just ushered in by a
powdered footman, and are waiting the appearance of their host
and hostess.
Lady de Snookyns [seating herself in an arm-chair). Quite new
peoxile these, but your father insisted that we should call upon them,
my dears. Papa said that he believed Mr. De Smythe had some
property in our part of the country, and that it was best to conciliate
all possible constituents. So, let us take stock of them before they
come.down. So begin, dears, at once, your tour of inspection.
College ! ^noo^ns' ^h, Mamma, here is a photograph of Eton
Lady de Snookyns. Evidently sent a son there !
Miss Mary. And a coat-of-arms of Lincoln’s-Inn.
Lady de Snookyns. Got a boy at the Bar.
. Miss Blanche. And, oh, Mamma, dear, here is such a sweet
picture of the late Archbishop.
Lady de Snookyns. Another son in the Church.
Miss Emily. And look, Mamma, here is a picture of a charge of
cavalry.
Lady de Snookyns. A lad in the Army. Dear me ! They seem to
be partial to the professions ! A bad sign !
Miss de Snookyns. And, Mamma, such a beautiful Japanese
screen!
Lady de Snookyns. Rather new! Hem! Must have taken the
house ready furnished for them !
Miss Emily. And look at this strange-shaped sofa !
Lady de Snookyns. New in Oxford Street, but old in Spain! They
have evidently newer travelled abroad !
Miss Blanche. And oh, Mamma, isn’t this sweet ? Such a lovely
hot-house rose !
Lady de Snookyns. In an inappropriate flower-pot! Don’t know
any clever people ! An Artist would have pointed out the mistake !
Dear me, they must he absolutely out of any sort of society ! I think
your father might have spared us this infliction.
Miss Emily. And here is a menu of their last dinner.
Lady de Snookyns [glancing at it). Three brown entrees one after
the other! The husband (who probably has been accustomed in early
life to Irish stew) evidently thinks he knows how to order a dinner,
and has a weak-minded French cook ! Worse and worse !
Miss de Snookyns [opening a cupboard). And, oh, Mamma, dear,
what is this strange thing ?
Lady de Snookyns. A scoop used for tasting cheese. [Aside.) Just
like one my poor grandfather used to have in his shop! [Aloud.)
Oh, my dears, my dears, we must get away as quickly as possible!
The parent of either Mr. or Mrs. de Smythe must have been a retail
butter-man!
[ General exclamation of horror and hurried preparation for
departure.
Powdered Footman [throwing open doors). Mr. and Mrs. Plan-
taoenet de Smythe! \_Cordial greetings and Curtain,
Mrs. Ramsbotham has written to her nephew at Trinity Hall to
ask him to send her some of the Cambridge Tripos, which she
understands is quite as good in its way as the Cambridge sausages.
New Reading.—[By one whose hair has gone prematurely grey),—
Whom the gods don't love dye young !
New Name eor a Wealthy Husband.—A cheque-mate.