Punch (86.1884)

120

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[March 8, 1884.

“ A chattering cockatoo,” growled Redesdale, in his most guttural
tones, “ full of Wemyss and fancies.”

“ He certainly ‘ fancies’ Wemyss,” said Lord Granville, sweetly,
trying to turn an awkward conversation aside with a little joke.

New Speaker now installed in Chair. Looks very well in wig and
5 gown, except that wig a little too large for him. “ Yes, I know,” he
! glumly said, when I hinted at the little peculiarity: ‘ ‘ took it over from
; Brand at a discount. Says wigs always are too big at first, but shrink
I in time amid heat of debate. Says it was just the same with him.

1 Wm never really fitted him till he stopped the Irish Debate a year or
! two°ago. Suppose it’s all right, but it certainly feels a little floppy.”

Anderson’s Cruelty to Animals Bill on again for Second Reading.
Time, after five o’clock. A near run to get it through before quarter
to six. Anderson makes no speech. Harcourt supports Bill in three
sentences. Milbank hotly in favour of measure, rises to support it.
Begins to relate sporting reminiscences. Surprised at a quarter to
six to find he ’s talked Bill out. Goes out back way so as not to meet
Anderson. Business done.—New Speaker pats on wig and gown.

Thursday.—Another field night in House of Commons. Benches
crowded; galleries full. Lord Sherbrooke peering from amongst
other Peers over the clock, thinking of times when he sat below the
Gangway, and had something to say about Reform Bill. Discovers
Bright in familiar corner seat, and Gladstone in old place on
Treasury Bench, older in the face, balder as to the head, but erect
as ever ; as full of energy and go as when Bobby Lowe did battle
with him across the Gangwav. “ All unchanged but me,” the retired
Gladiator murmured. “ Wish I’d had Tennyson’s good luck;
lost my robes, and never sank into obscurity of House of Lords.”

Randolph in line form. Nothing could exceed the power and
poetry of his imagery.

“ Is this a time to bring in Reform Bills,” he cried, frowning upon
Mr. Gladstone, “ when Railway Stations are Hying into the air all
around us, when our Cattle are dying by the hundred thousand, and
our Expenditure is going up Millions and Millions a-day ? ”

Curious to note how instinctively Members looked ujo as these
powerful and solemnly-spoken words fell on their ears.

“ The Angel of Death. is abroad in the land,” Mr. Bright
said, on the eve of a great war thirty years ago. “ Y on can almost
hear the beating of his wings.”

As men then sat holding their breath and listening, for peradven-
ture they might hear the weird rustling, now all looked up as if they
expected to see bricks and mortar, return tickets, fragments of
station-masters, torn time-tables, and loose change darkening the
air. Such is the force of oratory.

Gladstone knocked off his speech of an hour and three-quarters
with ease. Didn’t even bring down with him the pomatum pot. A
glass of water sparingly sipped stood for all refreshment. Great joy
amongst Irish Members, who were afraid their numbers would be
reduced on redistribution of seats. Had all agreed to sacrifice
O’Donnell, but here unanimity ended. At Private Meeting of party,
ballot taken to decide who should go. Each Member named two.
O’Donnell’s name on thirty-four papers; the rest among them
swept away the whole Party.

Scotch Members also sedately content. First effect of promised
addition to representation was seen at nine o’clock, when W. E. G.
gone away to dinner. Sir George Baleodr appropriates Premier’s
seat on Treasury Bench. Business done.—Reform Bill introduced.

Friday.—Always regret that Darwin didn’t know our Joseph
Gillis. Feel sure he would have mentioned him in his great work.
Joseph has recently developed new oratorical gesture of great effect.
As he denounces what he calls “ the Goovern’ment ” he puts long lean
hand on side of neck by ear, slowly rubbing and pecking himself.
At Monkey Temple at Benares remember a gigantic Monkey swing-
ing on branch of Tamarind Tree, addressed few words to me with
precisely that gesture. Joseph quite himself to-night. Likens Mr.
Trevelyan and Tuke to Long Firm, and genially accuses them of
fraud! Business done.—Some Yotes in Supply.

THE DARKNESS OF A FIRST NIGHT.

Honoured Sir,

Last month you were good enough to insert a few lines from
my pen, and I venture to hope that you will again extend the same
courtesy to me. That is a nicely-rounded sentence, which I trust
will square you. The other evening, having a little spare time (as the
saying is) on my hands, and a little spare cash in my pocket, I
resolved on visiting the Pit of a Theatre. I may remark, that I am
not a constant playgoer, and that, being a widower, 1 much prefer,
when I do patronise the btage, to witness the lighter forms of enter-
tainment offered to us by the jollier form of Manager. I accordingly
wended my way to the Nimbus Theatre, and after some necessary
squeezing (during which exc-rcise I was carried off my legs, and
someone else carried off my umbrella), I found myself in the front
row of seats. The Private Boxes and Stalls seemed unusually full,
and I could not help commenting on this fact to my right-hand
neighbour, a young gentleman who leant over the front rail and sur-
veyed the house with a most supercilious aspect.

“ Of course it is,” he replied. “ It’s a fust night.”

“ A first night,” I said. “ What’s that I ”

“ Oh! come 1 say,” he sniggered, “ that’s laying it on thick ! ” I
again protested my ignorance. “ Well, look here,” he said, pointing
to the playbill, “it’s the fust night of the new Comic Opera, The
Green Goblin. You ’ll see some fun presently. Won’t he, ’Aery?”
he continued, nudging a sandy youth, who was engaged in reading
an evening paper.

“ Rather ! ” returned the other, “ rather,—if this bloomin’ perduc-
tion don’t get the bird, my name’s not ’Enery ’Opkins.”

1 was about to inquire to what particular bird he referred, and
how it was connected with the piece, when the overture began, and I
concluded in my own mind that the biped was probably a character
in the play.

Halfway through the First Act a hitch occurred, caused by two of
the Actors forgetting their lines. With the greatest presence of
mind my two young friends immediately shouted “ Prompter! ” and
that official must have heard the call, as his voice was distinctly
heard proceeding from the side of the stage. My neighbours
rewarded his readiness with loud applause and cries of “ Brayvo ! ”
and, indeed, when the Curtain fell on the Act, they again yelled
11 Prompter ! ” with such persistence as to lead me to the belief that
they were personal friends of his. During the entr'acte, ’Enery
confided to his friend (whose godfathers and godmothers were
presumably responsible for his appellation of ’Aery) that the
“ guying would soon begin.”

“ Anything to do with Guy Fetiches ? ” I ventured to inquire.

“ Rather ! ” said ’Enery, with a grin. “ We finds the forks, and
the knife too. ’Ow’s that for ’igh ? ”

“Good!” said ’Arry. “Old Wagglethorpe” (the Author of
the Piece) “isn’t in it with you.”

I was still mystified. During the progress of the next Act I was
astounded to perceive that whereas many of the audience rolled
about with laughter, and cracked their sides at the very simplest
jest or the very mildest dance, and accentuated their approval with
violent clappings of the hands, others, doubtless dissatisfied with these
sycophants, expressed their disapproval with violent sibillations.
Among the malcontents were my neighbours, who further supple-
mented their hissing with cries of “hah!” At the end of Act II.
they again shouted for their friend the Prompter, who did not, how-
ever, appear.

As Act III. went on, the demonstrations on the part of the syco-
phants and their opponents increased, and after the finale had been
sung, their clamour rose to fever-heat. The Actors and Actresses
(including those who had forgotten their parts) were generously and,
indeed, enthusiastically received when they paraded before the
Curtain. Then ’Enery and ’Arry (evidently friends of the
Playwright as well as of the Prompter) raised mighty yells of
“Hauthor! Hauthor! ” and most vigorously brought the palms of
their hands together. I liberally seconded their efforts, for I confess
that I had thoroughly enjoyed the quips and conceits of the Opera.
Presently Mr. Wagglethorpe’s graceful form appeared between the
footlights and the “rag” (as I heard ’Enery call the Curtain) ; but
scarcely had his nose emerged from behind the proscenium when a
moat discordant Babel of sound arose from the Pittites, and descended
from their superiors in the Gallery. It was a mixture of cheering,
howling, and the voice of the serpent. I looked at ’Enery and
’Arry to see how they would take this behaviour. _ Would you
believe it, Sir, they were emulating the goose with their mouths, and
clapping with their hands ! What did their conduct mean ?

When Mr. Wagglethorpe had retired, I overheard ’Arry
remark, “ We baited ’itn fairly that time, old hoy.” Then both
roared with delight. I have dreamt of these events all night, and I
have puzzled over them all day. My brain is incapable to solve the
conundrum. If you have a spark of chanty in your nature, do
please explain the mystery and oblige

Yours distractedly, Dionysius Jones.