DOI Heft:
December 29, 1883
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17755#0313
December 29, 1883.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
301
THE SPEAKER.
(A Handbook to Ready-made Oratory.)
Part IX.—Literature and Journalism.
In the days gone by, at the fag-end of a toast-list at a Farmer’s
Dinner, “the Gentlemen of the Press” used to he given with a
brevity attributable to the Chairman’s exhaustion. That exhaustion
had been caused by numberless “ healths ” of far greater importance
than the welfare of those claiming to be Members of the Fourth
Estate. The acknowledgment was usually entrusted to a lad of
eighteen or thereabouts, who addressed, in impassioned accents, an
audience of wine-weary sleepers. But nowadays all this is changed,
and “ The Press,” when it figures either in a proposal or a response,
nearly invariably is provocative of the highest flights of eloquence.
Ami until recently, this special recognition of Journalism was the
only acknowledgment, from a toast-master’s point of view, that
such a thing as Literature was in existence. Again nowadays this
is changed, and “ the Pen ” is nearly as popular after dinner as “the
Sword.”
However, when all is said and done, the toast is new, and conse-
quently it may be as well to jot down a few suggestions calculated
to assist the proposer of “ Literature ” in acquitting himself credit-
ably. Here follows then—
Facts to be Remembered by the Champions oe the Pen.
1. That the Queen has published Stray Leaves from a Diary.
2. That Lord Wolseley wrote The Soldier's Pocket-book.
3. That Lords Macaulay and Lytton both scribbled a little.
4. That the Earl of Beaconsfield got £1,000 (more or less) for
Endymion.
5. That the Author of Locksley Hall, and other Poems, is about
to be made a Peer.
6. And, lastly, above all and before all, that Literature pays, now-
adays, nearly as well as cheesemongering.
This, of course, is taking a very material view of the subject.
There is an alternative tone that can be adopted, the more especially
j that recently the tone in question has become very fashionable. The
; prevailing idea by those who accept this last view of the subject is
1 that there is a hidden meaning in everything, which is either beneath
) or above comprehension. Thus there is something grandly sugges-
i tive about a gridiron. The fact that the homely article is used for
| cooking mutton-chops or beef-steaks is a mere uninteresting detail—
it must be regarded as a peer to a sunset or a snow-covered moun-
tain. Again, if a Theatrical Manager produces a successful play, and
in consequence is able to announce on placards that 4 4 the Stalls are
full,” and that there is “only standing-room in the Pit,” the mere
j -commercial value of the venture must be ignored the while the enter-
prising entrepreneur is lauded to the skies for his “loveof the beau-
tiful,” and his 44 deep earnest feeling for the welfare of Art.” To
make this plainer, it will be as well to give an illustration. And, as
the subject is very often connected with the Drama, a dramatic form
is the most convenient in which that illustration can be presented.
To work, then :—
Scene—A Banquet. Time— W hen the sweets of the confectioner
have given place to the sugar of the after-dinner orator. The
tenth toast on the list has been proposed, honoured, and received
a_ response. A young old man, with an effeminate air and a
silk shirt-front, rises to introduce “No. 11” to the garrulous
revellers. He wears a pince-nez, and speaks with the soupcon of
a lisp. He is received with considerable applause on being recog-
nised as Mr. Rosetti Twaddle, the eminent Critic.
Mr. Posetti Twaddle (deferentially). Your Royal Highness—
■(graciously)—my Lords and—(abruptly)—Gentlemen. I have under-
taken a somewhat difficult task this evening. But I do not dread
the responsibility, as every task must be difficult if performed in an
entirely earnest spirit. (“ Hear, hear /”) I wish to be entirely and
wholly in earnest, for I take it that the highest aims of the man of
culture are as the half-f'orgotten whispering of the Autumn leaves,
unless approached with all the rugged force of an equatorial whirl-
pool. . (Applause.) All things that are wholly true must be of
necessity completely lovable. {“Hear, hear!") And as this
is indeed the case, pens, ink, and paper, when the means of
suggesting noble thoughts at once assume the exquisite grandeur of
all that is most true, and consequently most admirable, in Hature,
which is another name for Art. {Loud cheers.) The soldier of the
pen should be inspired by a subtle influence, and it is this subtle
influence—so strange in its ramifications, so wholly comforting in
its suggestions—that I ask you to toast even as our ancestors crushed
cups in their armour to the fairest ladies of their knightly choice.
(“ Hear, hear ! ”) For, indeed, this subtle influence is a beautiful
mistress—pure as a lily, as grand as an earthquake. {Cheers.) It
was this gentle mistress that inspired Homer, Chaucer, or, to come
to modern times, Master William Shakspeare. {“Hear, hear!")
And it is this subtle influence, this gentle, this beautiful mistress,
who has inspired our dear friend Tompkins Brown, the lessee of the
Theatre Royal Parthenon. {Prolonged cheering.) I am glad
you agree with me, for I take this consent as a sign of your entirely
perfect intelligence. {Renewed applause.) It happened that I was
at.the theatre of our respected friend—respected, because he is the
High Priest of Art—{cheers)—only a few nights ago. I had been in
his private room, and had been discussing a poor play of my own.
(“ No, no!") Yes, poor, because it contained but a few thousand
lines of indifferent verse. (“ No, no ! ”) You are completely kind !
{Cheers). And when we had come to the only right, the only pos-
sible conclusion, that, mere Money was not to be weighed for an
instant in the scales with Art—(“ hear, hear ! ”)—and the considera-
tion of the date for the production of my little fancy had been tem-
porarily postponed, Tompkins Brown invited me to 44 come in
front” to see his latest contribution to the civilisation of the nine-
teenth century. {Cheers.) I obeyed, and never shall 1 forget what
I then saw. I was in fairyland. There were scores of beau-
tiful figures draped in gold and silver tissue floating through
an atmosphere of the most delicately tinted gems. But I did
not look at the scene. My attention was riveted on the chief
Actor, who, wearing a white tunic with red spots, and a peculiar
head-dress (handed down to us from mediaeval times) with three
thin upright plumes, was gazing at the wholly beautiful beings
revolving around him, with intense earnestness. The face of the
chief Actor was an epic. (Cheers.) His soul shone through
the white paint on his nose, the red triangular spots on his
cheeks and. forehead. {Cheers.) His look of mingled wonder
and admiration brought the tears to my eyes. (“ Hear, hear ! ”) A
smile of marvellous simplicity spread over his prominent eyes, His
artificially-widened mouth, like the shadow of a summer-cloud
sailing over. a. corn-field. There was an exquisite pathos in his
wonder, an infinite tenderness in his admiration. {Cheers.) That
smile recalled Swiss cataracts, Italian ruins, the glories of Rome, the
broken marbles of ancient Greece. {Renewed applause.) I mur-
mured, “Enter boldly, for here, too, there are Gods!” {Frantic
cheering.) I felt that I was watching a great Actor. {“Hear,
hear!") Then he turned round, and, with admirable earnestness,
knocked down the scoffing figure of his companion, an ancient Pan-
taloon. {Cheers.) That blow was a revelation. In it I traced a
career wholly devoted to Art. (Renewed applause.) And what
caused me to see so much ? I will tell you. It was that subtle
influence to which I have alluded—that subtle influence which guides
the pen of the wholly honest critic, which opens the eyes of culture,
and is yet as nought to the yokel and the Philistine. This subtle
influence is the life of literature, the soul of criticism. And this
subtle influence is what I ask you to toast. It is the life-blood of
the pen and the bone, tissues and nerves of the pencil. {“Hear,
hear ! ”). I give you, then, from the very bottom of my heart, and
with entire confidence in its reception, the revelation of to-day and
the great master of to-morrow. In a word, I give you-Gush !
[.Enormous enthusiasm, during which the speaker resumes his seat.
So much for the proposal. As for the reply, it is useless to give it.
If inspired by the proper spirit, it would be wholly and entirely—
unintelligible.
Haig-zactly So!—In the very useless dispute between Mr.
Charles Haig, wine-merchant, and the Rev. Dawson Burns, D.D..
as to Liquor Trade and Christianity, it certainly seems to us that
the wine-merchant has six-to-four the best of it in argument.
Among other things, he said that the 44 sobriety of the. Jews was not
due to their religious regulations nor to their exclusiveness ; ” and
he stated that at Passover-time., publicans in the East-end of London
“ put up a Hebrew word in their windows signifying that they have
on tap a particular puncheon of rum which has been passed by the
Rabbi.” Row this is a bit indefinite. Had the worthy Rabbi j
“ passed the puncheon” as he would among convives have “passed
the bottle,” or had he neglected it and passed over it, or passed by it,
or examined it and then, because it 44 answered,” given it a pass ?
The last, we suppose., is the correct version. We were not aware that
there were Jew publicans ; but, being reminded of the ancient riddle
which might have had its origin in Palestine, it is evidently quite in
the fitness of things that the publicans should be one. of the He-brews.
The idea of anyone of the name of Burns going in for total absti-
nence ! Well, well, Time brings its revenges. But, assuredly, the
Rev. Dr. Dawson Burns would have been disavowed by the “rantin’
roarin’boy ” of that ilk were he still in the 44 land of cakes” and
ale, while as to Mr. Haig, the sound of his name recalls the one
place where to drink water is an impossibility, and the absorption of
Hollands a necessity. See 31array’s Guide as to the Hague and the
quality of the water in the Low Countries. When we went there
we followed the guide-book’s advice, which was similar to Bailey ’s,
at Mrs. Lodgers's—44 Don’t touch none of it;” and, as may be
imagined, we had a very Murray time of it. Hoop! Mynheer
Boompjes!
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
301
THE SPEAKER.
(A Handbook to Ready-made Oratory.)
Part IX.—Literature and Journalism.
In the days gone by, at the fag-end of a toast-list at a Farmer’s
Dinner, “the Gentlemen of the Press” used to he given with a
brevity attributable to the Chairman’s exhaustion. That exhaustion
had been caused by numberless “ healths ” of far greater importance
than the welfare of those claiming to be Members of the Fourth
Estate. The acknowledgment was usually entrusted to a lad of
eighteen or thereabouts, who addressed, in impassioned accents, an
audience of wine-weary sleepers. But nowadays all this is changed,
and “ The Press,” when it figures either in a proposal or a response,
nearly invariably is provocative of the highest flights of eloquence.
Ami until recently, this special recognition of Journalism was the
only acknowledgment, from a toast-master’s point of view, that
such a thing as Literature was in existence. Again nowadays this
is changed, and “ the Pen ” is nearly as popular after dinner as “the
Sword.”
However, when all is said and done, the toast is new, and conse-
quently it may be as well to jot down a few suggestions calculated
to assist the proposer of “ Literature ” in acquitting himself credit-
ably. Here follows then—
Facts to be Remembered by the Champions oe the Pen.
1. That the Queen has published Stray Leaves from a Diary.
2. That Lord Wolseley wrote The Soldier's Pocket-book.
3. That Lords Macaulay and Lytton both scribbled a little.
4. That the Earl of Beaconsfield got £1,000 (more or less) for
Endymion.
5. That the Author of Locksley Hall, and other Poems, is about
to be made a Peer.
6. And, lastly, above all and before all, that Literature pays, now-
adays, nearly as well as cheesemongering.
This, of course, is taking a very material view of the subject.
There is an alternative tone that can be adopted, the more especially
j that recently the tone in question has become very fashionable. The
; prevailing idea by those who accept this last view of the subject is
1 that there is a hidden meaning in everything, which is either beneath
) or above comprehension. Thus there is something grandly sugges-
i tive about a gridiron. The fact that the homely article is used for
| cooking mutton-chops or beef-steaks is a mere uninteresting detail—
it must be regarded as a peer to a sunset or a snow-covered moun-
tain. Again, if a Theatrical Manager produces a successful play, and
in consequence is able to announce on placards that 4 4 the Stalls are
full,” and that there is “only standing-room in the Pit,” the mere
j -commercial value of the venture must be ignored the while the enter-
prising entrepreneur is lauded to the skies for his “loveof the beau-
tiful,” and his 44 deep earnest feeling for the welfare of Art.” To
make this plainer, it will be as well to give an illustration. And, as
the subject is very often connected with the Drama, a dramatic form
is the most convenient in which that illustration can be presented.
To work, then :—
Scene—A Banquet. Time— W hen the sweets of the confectioner
have given place to the sugar of the after-dinner orator. The
tenth toast on the list has been proposed, honoured, and received
a_ response. A young old man, with an effeminate air and a
silk shirt-front, rises to introduce “No. 11” to the garrulous
revellers. He wears a pince-nez, and speaks with the soupcon of
a lisp. He is received with considerable applause on being recog-
nised as Mr. Rosetti Twaddle, the eminent Critic.
Mr. Posetti Twaddle (deferentially). Your Royal Highness—
■(graciously)—my Lords and—(abruptly)—Gentlemen. I have under-
taken a somewhat difficult task this evening. But I do not dread
the responsibility, as every task must be difficult if performed in an
entirely earnest spirit. (“ Hear, hear /”) I wish to be entirely and
wholly in earnest, for I take it that the highest aims of the man of
culture are as the half-f'orgotten whispering of the Autumn leaves,
unless approached with all the rugged force of an equatorial whirl-
pool. . (Applause.) All things that are wholly true must be of
necessity completely lovable. {“Hear, hear!") And as this
is indeed the case, pens, ink, and paper, when the means of
suggesting noble thoughts at once assume the exquisite grandeur of
all that is most true, and consequently most admirable, in Hature,
which is another name for Art. {Loud cheers.) The soldier of the
pen should be inspired by a subtle influence, and it is this subtle
influence—so strange in its ramifications, so wholly comforting in
its suggestions—that I ask you to toast even as our ancestors crushed
cups in their armour to the fairest ladies of their knightly choice.
(“ Hear, hear ! ”) For, indeed, this subtle influence is a beautiful
mistress—pure as a lily, as grand as an earthquake. {Cheers.) It
was this gentle mistress that inspired Homer, Chaucer, or, to come
to modern times, Master William Shakspeare. {“Hear, hear!")
And it is this subtle influence, this gentle, this beautiful mistress,
who has inspired our dear friend Tompkins Brown, the lessee of the
Theatre Royal Parthenon. {Prolonged cheering.) I am glad
you agree with me, for I take this consent as a sign of your entirely
perfect intelligence. {Renewed applause.) It happened that I was
at.the theatre of our respected friend—respected, because he is the
High Priest of Art—{cheers)—only a few nights ago. I had been in
his private room, and had been discussing a poor play of my own.
(“ No, no!") Yes, poor, because it contained but a few thousand
lines of indifferent verse. (“ No, no ! ”) You are completely kind !
{Cheers). And when we had come to the only right, the only pos-
sible conclusion, that, mere Money was not to be weighed for an
instant in the scales with Art—(“ hear, hear ! ”)—and the considera-
tion of the date for the production of my little fancy had been tem-
porarily postponed, Tompkins Brown invited me to 44 come in
front” to see his latest contribution to the civilisation of the nine-
teenth century. {Cheers.) I obeyed, and never shall 1 forget what
I then saw. I was in fairyland. There were scores of beau-
tiful figures draped in gold and silver tissue floating through
an atmosphere of the most delicately tinted gems. But I did
not look at the scene. My attention was riveted on the chief
Actor, who, wearing a white tunic with red spots, and a peculiar
head-dress (handed down to us from mediaeval times) with three
thin upright plumes, was gazing at the wholly beautiful beings
revolving around him, with intense earnestness. The face of the
chief Actor was an epic. (Cheers.) His soul shone through
the white paint on his nose, the red triangular spots on his
cheeks and. forehead. {Cheers.) His look of mingled wonder
and admiration brought the tears to my eyes. (“ Hear, hear ! ”) A
smile of marvellous simplicity spread over his prominent eyes, His
artificially-widened mouth, like the shadow of a summer-cloud
sailing over. a. corn-field. There was an exquisite pathos in his
wonder, an infinite tenderness in his admiration. {Cheers.) That
smile recalled Swiss cataracts, Italian ruins, the glories of Rome, the
broken marbles of ancient Greece. {Renewed applause.) I mur-
mured, “Enter boldly, for here, too, there are Gods!” {Frantic
cheering.) I felt that I was watching a great Actor. {“Hear,
hear!") Then he turned round, and, with admirable earnestness,
knocked down the scoffing figure of his companion, an ancient Pan-
taloon. {Cheers.) That blow was a revelation. In it I traced a
career wholly devoted to Art. (Renewed applause.) And what
caused me to see so much ? I will tell you. It was that subtle
influence to which I have alluded—that subtle influence which guides
the pen of the wholly honest critic, which opens the eyes of culture,
and is yet as nought to the yokel and the Philistine. This subtle
influence is the life of literature, the soul of criticism. And this
subtle influence is what I ask you to toast. It is the life-blood of
the pen and the bone, tissues and nerves of the pencil. {“Hear,
hear ! ”). I give you, then, from the very bottom of my heart, and
with entire confidence in its reception, the revelation of to-day and
the great master of to-morrow. In a word, I give you-Gush !
[.Enormous enthusiasm, during which the speaker resumes his seat.
So much for the proposal. As for the reply, it is useless to give it.
If inspired by the proper spirit, it would be wholly and entirely—
unintelligible.
Haig-zactly So!—In the very useless dispute between Mr.
Charles Haig, wine-merchant, and the Rev. Dawson Burns, D.D..
as to Liquor Trade and Christianity, it certainly seems to us that
the wine-merchant has six-to-four the best of it in argument.
Among other things, he said that the 44 sobriety of the. Jews was not
due to their religious regulations nor to their exclusiveness ; ” and
he stated that at Passover-time., publicans in the East-end of London
“ put up a Hebrew word in their windows signifying that they have
on tap a particular puncheon of rum which has been passed by the
Rabbi.” Row this is a bit indefinite. Had the worthy Rabbi j
“ passed the puncheon” as he would among convives have “passed
the bottle,” or had he neglected it and passed over it, or passed by it,
or examined it and then, because it 44 answered,” given it a pass ?
The last, we suppose., is the correct version. We were not aware that
there were Jew publicans ; but, being reminded of the ancient riddle
which might have had its origin in Palestine, it is evidently quite in
the fitness of things that the publicans should be one. of the He-brews.
The idea of anyone of the name of Burns going in for total absti-
nence ! Well, well, Time brings its revenges. But, assuredly, the
Rev. Dr. Dawson Burns would have been disavowed by the “rantin’
roarin’boy ” of that ilk were he still in the 44 land of cakes” and
ale, while as to Mr. Haig, the sound of his name recalls the one
place where to drink water is an impossibility, and the absorption of
Hollands a necessity. See 31array’s Guide as to the Hague and the
quality of the water in the Low Countries. When we went there
we followed the guide-book’s advice, which was similar to Bailey ’s,
at Mrs. Lodgers's—44 Don’t touch none of it;” and, as may be
imagined, we had a very Murray time of it. Hoop! Mynheer
Boompjes!