DOI Heft:
December 27, 1884
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17757#0311
304 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [December 27, 1884.
YULE-TIDE IN THE STRAND.
(A Christmas Story of the Royal Courts of Justice.)
It was the last day of terra, and his Lordship was warming' his
knees before the tire prior to leaving the Royal Courts for the
Legal Difficulties.
! Christmas Yacation. He had removed his wig, and his robes were
loosened.
“ I am glad that last case was settled by consent,"' he said, with a
yawn, and then closed his eyes.
The fire continued to warm his Lordship’s knees, and the closing
of his eyes assisted his Lordship to doze. He did doze.
Of a sudden the Judge’s Clerk entered the room and roused his
master. He made a communication in a low earnest voice.
“ What! ” exclaimed his Lordship, hurriedly reassumine his wig,
and arranging his robes. “ A. riot in my own Court! Oh, I must
put a stop to this immediately f ”
And without more ado he hurried back to the Bench. The Judge
entered the Court amidst a Babel of sounds. “ You are taking too'
much room, Sir! ” “ You have no right to cover my seat with your
confounded books, Sir!” “What on earth are you doing, Sir!”
were three, out of many other cries, that greeted his ears. The
appearance of the Judge seemed tc have no calming infiuenee. “ Is
my Clerk there ? ” asked his Lordship, assuming a more constrained
attitude, as he leaned over his desk. The Judge’s Clerk admitted his
presence, and then the Usher seemed to awake to the disrespect that
the Bar appeared to be showing to the Bench, and shouted “ Silence!”
The cry had the desired effect, and something like order was restored.
“ Gentlemen,” said the Judge, bowing to the Bar who respectfully
returned the salutation, “I can quite understand your annoyance.
The Court is inconvenient in the highest degree. I notice that you
Gentlemen of the Bar are crowded into a heap.”
“That is so, my Lord,” assentingly interrupted a well-known
Q.C.; “I can assure your Lordship that had we a table instead of
these costly carved (saving your Lordship’s presence) idiotic desks,
we should be a .thousand times more comfortable.”
“ Certainly. I quite agree with you,” replied his Lordship, “ and
I need scarcely tell you that I and my Brothers are no better off on
the Bench. We can’t hear, we can’t see, and when we want to
address an observation to our Registrars, have to assume attitudes
which are at once grotesque, uncomfortable, and undignified.”
“ May it please your Lordship, the ventilation-
“Does not please.your Lordship, for pt could not conceivably be
worse,” smartly replied the Judge, at which there was much laughter.
Then his Lordship continued, “ But surely something should be done. J
Can you, Gentlemen, suggest anything ? ”
The Bar having this direct appeal addressed to them, consulted
among themselves for a few minutes. Then one of their number
replied that they understood that a learned Judge, a few days since,
had proposed an appeal to Mr. Punch as a powerful friend, who had
the ability, and doubtless the will, to help them.
“Certainly,” returned the Judge. “But how can we invoke
Mr. Punch ?
Then Authorities were consulted, and then a pleasant perfume,
suggestive of the mixture of brandy, rum, tea, and lemons, pervaded
the apartment. Then the Comic Plackstone was solemnly produced,
and certain rites performed. There was a sound as of a thousand
“ calls,” and Mr. Punch took his place upon the Bench.
All present (in spite of the intense discomfort caused by the
ceremony in the constrained space) knelt before him.
“ Pray rise, my Lord; pray rDe, Gentlemen,” said Mr. Punch,
courteously ; ‘ I know what you want,— or, rather, what you do not
want. You do not want all this,” and the Sage waved his hand
towards the makeshift lamps, the wretched desks, the inconvenient
boxes,—the Court generally. “No, you want a change. And you
shall have it. You have my word, my Lord—my word, Gentlemen,
—I wiR help you ! ”
At this there was a mighty shout of joy and exultation, and—
and-
His Lordship woke!
The Judge, with his wig off and robes unloosened, had been dozing
before the fire in his private room.
“ Anything in that paper ? ” he asked, as he rubbed his eyes some-
what sadly.
“ Y"es, my Lord, very good news,” replied his Lordship’s Clerk,
who had been turning over the leaves of an illustrated periodical of
infinite merit. “ Mr. Punch says that he will help you.”
‘ ‘ Hoorav ! Then there was something in my dream! ” shouted
the learned Judge, excitedly.
And then his Lordship went joyfully home, and insisted upon
stirring the plum-pudding, although it had already been made, and
kissed everybody he met under the mistletoe, and danced “ Sir Roger
da Coverley ” all day long, and spent Christmas as Christmas should
be spent by everybody, yes, by everybody, one and all!
THE DOME OF ST. PAUL’S.
Sir,—There’s a sweat deal of unnecessary difficulty about the
decoration of the Dome. “ Domum, Domum, du/ce Domum! ”
And it will be dulce enough if my advice is taken. “An Artist”
wrote to the Times last week with a suggestion. He says, Try
a dozen Artists, and if you don’t like ’em. don’t have ’em. Good
here’s another. Try your Artists, Mr. Punch. Are there any
better ? Ho. Give each of these a moderate sum (I ’ll be stake-
holder if you like *), stand ’em their paint-pots and brushes, find ’em in
gas and grub, ladders and liquor, and let ’em go at it with a will.
Sav £300 a-piece for a fortnight (I ’ll stand in for the suggestion t),
and let’em each take a bit of the space and try his hand. Give
Dumb Crambo Junior a chance, too. I think he’d come out well in j
a sacred subject, seeing how reverentially he has treated that man
singing a hymn in Your Almanack. Mr. Du Maurier would be quite-
at home, and so would your Mr. Keene, with a bit of landscape just
chucked in and no extra charge. Warm colouring would be
expected from your Fubniss. Mr. Sambourne, I expect, would run
Michael Angelo rather near, and Mr. Tenniel—but I think he
o7ight to be handicapped in the race, as he fresco’d in the House of
Lords. But anyhow, this is my plan—on certain conditions.^
I am, Y"ours, . Robin Peter.
* No thank you. Will do that ourselves.—Ed,
t No you won’t.—Ed.
1 We make no conditions. Mr. ft. P.’s suggestion occurred to us long ago,
and we have our own ideas on the Subject lrom twenty-five up to fifty per
cent., which leaves no margin for-outsiders.—Ed.
Politics for Playgoers.—So a new theatre is about to be erected!
at the rear of a house in Regent Street. It may be hoped that this-
addition to the resources of the Drama will still further extend the-
Reform of the Representation.
SIR HALFPENNY DINNER CHALLENGES SIR PENNY DINNER
YULE-TIDE IN THE STRAND.
(A Christmas Story of the Royal Courts of Justice.)
It was the last day of terra, and his Lordship was warming' his
knees before the tire prior to leaving the Royal Courts for the
Legal Difficulties.
! Christmas Yacation. He had removed his wig, and his robes were
loosened.
“ I am glad that last case was settled by consent,"' he said, with a
yawn, and then closed his eyes.
The fire continued to warm his Lordship’s knees, and the closing
of his eyes assisted his Lordship to doze. He did doze.
Of a sudden the Judge’s Clerk entered the room and roused his
master. He made a communication in a low earnest voice.
“ What! ” exclaimed his Lordship, hurriedly reassumine his wig,
and arranging his robes. “ A. riot in my own Court! Oh, I must
put a stop to this immediately f ”
And without more ado he hurried back to the Bench. The Judge
entered the Court amidst a Babel of sounds. “ You are taking too'
much room, Sir! ” “ You have no right to cover my seat with your
confounded books, Sir!” “What on earth are you doing, Sir!”
were three, out of many other cries, that greeted his ears. The
appearance of the Judge seemed tc have no calming infiuenee. “ Is
my Clerk there ? ” asked his Lordship, assuming a more constrained
attitude, as he leaned over his desk. The Judge’s Clerk admitted his
presence, and then the Usher seemed to awake to the disrespect that
the Bar appeared to be showing to the Bench, and shouted “ Silence!”
The cry had the desired effect, and something like order was restored.
“ Gentlemen,” said the Judge, bowing to the Bar who respectfully
returned the salutation, “I can quite understand your annoyance.
The Court is inconvenient in the highest degree. I notice that you
Gentlemen of the Bar are crowded into a heap.”
“That is so, my Lord,” assentingly interrupted a well-known
Q.C.; “I can assure your Lordship that had we a table instead of
these costly carved (saving your Lordship’s presence) idiotic desks,
we should be a .thousand times more comfortable.”
“ Certainly. I quite agree with you,” replied his Lordship, “ and
I need scarcely tell you that I and my Brothers are no better off on
the Bench. We can’t hear, we can’t see, and when we want to
address an observation to our Registrars, have to assume attitudes
which are at once grotesque, uncomfortable, and undignified.”
“ May it please your Lordship, the ventilation-
“Does not please.your Lordship, for pt could not conceivably be
worse,” smartly replied the Judge, at which there was much laughter.
Then his Lordship continued, “ But surely something should be done. J
Can you, Gentlemen, suggest anything ? ”
The Bar having this direct appeal addressed to them, consulted
among themselves for a few minutes. Then one of their number
replied that they understood that a learned Judge, a few days since,
had proposed an appeal to Mr. Punch as a powerful friend, who had
the ability, and doubtless the will, to help them.
“Certainly,” returned the Judge. “But how can we invoke
Mr. Punch ?
Then Authorities were consulted, and then a pleasant perfume,
suggestive of the mixture of brandy, rum, tea, and lemons, pervaded
the apartment. Then the Comic Plackstone was solemnly produced,
and certain rites performed. There was a sound as of a thousand
“ calls,” and Mr. Punch took his place upon the Bench.
All present (in spite of the intense discomfort caused by the
ceremony in the constrained space) knelt before him.
“ Pray rise, my Lord; pray rDe, Gentlemen,” said Mr. Punch,
courteously ; ‘ I know what you want,— or, rather, what you do not
want. You do not want all this,” and the Sage waved his hand
towards the makeshift lamps, the wretched desks, the inconvenient
boxes,—the Court generally. “No, you want a change. And you
shall have it. You have my word, my Lord—my word, Gentlemen,
—I wiR help you ! ”
At this there was a mighty shout of joy and exultation, and—
and-
His Lordship woke!
The Judge, with his wig off and robes unloosened, had been dozing
before the fire in his private room.
“ Anything in that paper ? ” he asked, as he rubbed his eyes some-
what sadly.
“ Y"es, my Lord, very good news,” replied his Lordship’s Clerk,
who had been turning over the leaves of an illustrated periodical of
infinite merit. “ Mr. Punch says that he will help you.”
‘ ‘ Hoorav ! Then there was something in my dream! ” shouted
the learned Judge, excitedly.
And then his Lordship went joyfully home, and insisted upon
stirring the plum-pudding, although it had already been made, and
kissed everybody he met under the mistletoe, and danced “ Sir Roger
da Coverley ” all day long, and spent Christmas as Christmas should
be spent by everybody, yes, by everybody, one and all!
THE DOME OF ST. PAUL’S.
Sir,—There’s a sweat deal of unnecessary difficulty about the
decoration of the Dome. “ Domum, Domum, du/ce Domum! ”
And it will be dulce enough if my advice is taken. “An Artist”
wrote to the Times last week with a suggestion. He says, Try
a dozen Artists, and if you don’t like ’em. don’t have ’em. Good
here’s another. Try your Artists, Mr. Punch. Are there any
better ? Ho. Give each of these a moderate sum (I ’ll be stake-
holder if you like *), stand ’em their paint-pots and brushes, find ’em in
gas and grub, ladders and liquor, and let ’em go at it with a will.
Sav £300 a-piece for a fortnight (I ’ll stand in for the suggestion t),
and let’em each take a bit of the space and try his hand. Give
Dumb Crambo Junior a chance, too. I think he’d come out well in j
a sacred subject, seeing how reverentially he has treated that man
singing a hymn in Your Almanack. Mr. Du Maurier would be quite-
at home, and so would your Mr. Keene, with a bit of landscape just
chucked in and no extra charge. Warm colouring would be
expected from your Fubniss. Mr. Sambourne, I expect, would run
Michael Angelo rather near, and Mr. Tenniel—but I think he
o7ight to be handicapped in the race, as he fresco’d in the House of
Lords. But anyhow, this is my plan—on certain conditions.^
I am, Y"ours, . Robin Peter.
* No thank you. Will do that ourselves.—Ed,
t No you won’t.—Ed.
1 We make no conditions. Mr. ft. P.’s suggestion occurred to us long ago,
and we have our own ideas on the Subject lrom twenty-five up to fifty per
cent., which leaves no margin for-outsiders.—Ed.
Politics for Playgoers.—So a new theatre is about to be erected!
at the rear of a house in Regent Street. It may be hoped that this-
addition to the resources of the Drama will still further extend the-
Reform of the Representation.
SIR HALFPENNY DINNER CHALLENGES SIR PENNY DINNER