DOI issue:
February 10, 1883
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17754#0074
66
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[February 10, 1883.
CAVE CANEM!
Effie. “Aren’t you afraid my big Dog 'll eat you?”
Stranger. “He wouldn’t make much of a Meal off Me, my dear!”
Effie. “My big Dog likes BonesJ:
A MYSTIC BITE.
Mr. Macbeth and Mr. Gregory were, last week, elected as worthy
to be Associates of the Royal Academicians. The ceremony of Mr.
Macbeth’s initiation was peculiarly striking, as the official Repre-
sentative Artists could not lose the opportunity afforded them by
the new Associate’s Shakspearian name. The Council Chamber was
fitted up as The Witches ’ Cavern, a Calderon was in the centre, and
the dramatis personce were as follows
Macbeth . . . By Himself.
1st Witch . . . Sir F. Leighton, P.R.A.
2nd Witch . . . J C. Horsley, R.A.
3rd Witch . . W. P. Frith, R.A.
After an incantation, arranged for three voices, which was very
finely sung, The Second Witch announced that, “ By the pricking of
thumbs, something clever this way comes. Open locks whoever
knocks ! ” iipon which Mr. Macbeth entered, ana was presented by
the Weird Sisters with “ a deed without a name,” which the new
Associate had to sign. Then, joining hands, they danced to
mysterious music, played by Mr. Sant, R.A., on a concealed
harmonium, and while throwing into the Cauldron old paint-
brushes, broken palettes, bits of easels, chips of mahlstieks, dry
Raves from Ruskin on Art, Blackburne’s Illustrated Academy
Guide, and an old Catalogue of the Grosvenor Gallery, they sang—
“ Come high or low,
Thyself and office deftly show ! ”
when the thunder was splendidly shaken by Mr. Herbert, R.A.,
and in a vivid Hash of lightning, also contrived by the same talented
Artist, arose a Head, wearing a Judge’s wig, whose features were at
once recognised by everyone present as those of The Last of the
Barons.
Macbeth. Tell me, thou unknown power !
First Witch. He knows thy thought.
Second Witch. Hear his speech, but say thou nought.
Third Witch. Or be committed for contempt of Court.
The Last of the Barons then made a few learned observations on
Art in general and experts in particular, and after making a few
learned observations on Art and experts, the Baron wa.s courteously
dismissed, cigars and liquors were produced, and dancing round the
Cauldron was kept up to a late hour.
THE FRENCH ANDROMEDA.
Wanted a Perseus ! There she stands, poor France,
Helpless and faction-shackled, with wild eyes
Watching the red-gorged monster’s slow advance,
Oh, issue sad of warring vanities!
’Twas Cassiopea’s boastings brought black fate
On snowy-limbed Andromeda of old.
Where’s he, who in the interest of the State
Will make, with resolution calm and bold,
A holocaust of self, of all the small
Hot-raging egoisms that enmesh
What else were great? Where’s he, not passion’s thrall,
Who the clean downright blade of Truth will flesh
Fast in the common foe ? Must every man
Of modern Frenchmen, valorously vain,
Play Cepheus to his country, blindly plan
To forge fresh links for her disabling chain,
What time the monster nearer nearer creeps,
And the Gods laugh, and the deliverer sleeps ?
Query and Explanation.—At an entertainment given by Mr.
Bass at the Brewery, Burton-on-Trent, to his merry men and many
others, the Opera of Lucrezia Borgia was performed. But why
have played Lucrezia Borgia ? Why, asks our friend Wagg, didn’t
Mr. Bass or Sir Arthur select something from Meyer-beer ? The
answer is evident. The satirical M.P. for Burton-on-Melancholy
—no, on Trent,—chose Lucrezia Borgia. because, at the finish of
the Opera, all the guests are poisoned by wine, and are led out
staggering to their bier. Oh, Basso Profondo !
The Motto of the Demon Driver.—“ Hurrah for the—Wrong
side of the—Road ! ”
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[February 10, 1883.
CAVE CANEM!
Effie. “Aren’t you afraid my big Dog 'll eat you?”
Stranger. “He wouldn’t make much of a Meal off Me, my dear!”
Effie. “My big Dog likes BonesJ:
A MYSTIC BITE.
Mr. Macbeth and Mr. Gregory were, last week, elected as worthy
to be Associates of the Royal Academicians. The ceremony of Mr.
Macbeth’s initiation was peculiarly striking, as the official Repre-
sentative Artists could not lose the opportunity afforded them by
the new Associate’s Shakspearian name. The Council Chamber was
fitted up as The Witches ’ Cavern, a Calderon was in the centre, and
the dramatis personce were as follows
Macbeth . . . By Himself.
1st Witch . . . Sir F. Leighton, P.R.A.
2nd Witch . . . J C. Horsley, R.A.
3rd Witch . . W. P. Frith, R.A.
After an incantation, arranged for three voices, which was very
finely sung, The Second Witch announced that, “ By the pricking of
thumbs, something clever this way comes. Open locks whoever
knocks ! ” iipon which Mr. Macbeth entered, ana was presented by
the Weird Sisters with “ a deed without a name,” which the new
Associate had to sign. Then, joining hands, they danced to
mysterious music, played by Mr. Sant, R.A., on a concealed
harmonium, and while throwing into the Cauldron old paint-
brushes, broken palettes, bits of easels, chips of mahlstieks, dry
Raves from Ruskin on Art, Blackburne’s Illustrated Academy
Guide, and an old Catalogue of the Grosvenor Gallery, they sang—
“ Come high or low,
Thyself and office deftly show ! ”
when the thunder was splendidly shaken by Mr. Herbert, R.A.,
and in a vivid Hash of lightning, also contrived by the same talented
Artist, arose a Head, wearing a Judge’s wig, whose features were at
once recognised by everyone present as those of The Last of the
Barons.
Macbeth. Tell me, thou unknown power !
First Witch. He knows thy thought.
Second Witch. Hear his speech, but say thou nought.
Third Witch. Or be committed for contempt of Court.
The Last of the Barons then made a few learned observations on
Art in general and experts in particular, and after making a few
learned observations on Art and experts, the Baron wa.s courteously
dismissed, cigars and liquors were produced, and dancing round the
Cauldron was kept up to a late hour.
THE FRENCH ANDROMEDA.
Wanted a Perseus ! There she stands, poor France,
Helpless and faction-shackled, with wild eyes
Watching the red-gorged monster’s slow advance,
Oh, issue sad of warring vanities!
’Twas Cassiopea’s boastings brought black fate
On snowy-limbed Andromeda of old.
Where’s he, who in the interest of the State
Will make, with resolution calm and bold,
A holocaust of self, of all the small
Hot-raging egoisms that enmesh
What else were great? Where’s he, not passion’s thrall,
Who the clean downright blade of Truth will flesh
Fast in the common foe ? Must every man
Of modern Frenchmen, valorously vain,
Play Cepheus to his country, blindly plan
To forge fresh links for her disabling chain,
What time the monster nearer nearer creeps,
And the Gods laugh, and the deliverer sleeps ?
Query and Explanation.—At an entertainment given by Mr.
Bass at the Brewery, Burton-on-Trent, to his merry men and many
others, the Opera of Lucrezia Borgia was performed. But why
have played Lucrezia Borgia ? Why, asks our friend Wagg, didn’t
Mr. Bass or Sir Arthur select something from Meyer-beer ? The
answer is evident. The satirical M.P. for Burton-on-Melancholy
—no, on Trent,—chose Lucrezia Borgia. because, at the finish of
the Opera, all the guests are poisoned by wine, and are led out
staggering to their bier. Oh, Basso Profondo !
The Motto of the Demon Driver.—“ Hurrah for the—Wrong
side of the—Road ! ”