DOI Heft:
February 28, 1885
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17758#0117
108
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [FEBRUARY 28, 1885.
FEMALE “ TRAVELLERS.”
BRITISH BABOOS.
[From the German.)
I know a Maiden, with a bag,
Take care!
She carries samples in a drag,
Beware! beware!
0 Draper fond,
She is fooling thee !
She has the true “Commercial”
style,
Take care!
To which she addeth woman’s
gnile.
Beware ! beware!
0 Grocer goose,
She is plucking thee !
And she has quite a flood of talk,
Take care!
She sells as cheese what’s only
chalk,
Beware! beware!
0 Dealer daft,
She’s deceiving thee !
Her eyes are really wondrous
black,
Take care!
They make a shiver run down
your back,
Beware! beware!
0 Shopman soft,
She is ogling thee !
She sells you a silk of “perfect
wear,”
Take care!
At it your customers will swear,
Beware! beware!
Trust her not,
This Travelling She!
MUCH ADO.
2 propos of the Theatrical Dovecot fluttered by the article in last
month’s Fortnightly, the Editor of The Theatre has correctly pointed
out that the author of that article did not originate the excitement,
but that it was commenced by what we at the time called the
“ Kendal-light ” thrown on the .Stage by the unlucky Brummagem
discourse. To adapt the opening sentence of Chaki.es Dickens’s
Cricket on the Hearth, we may substitute “ Kendal ”. for “ Kettle,”
and say “ Kendal began it,”—not “ Mister,” but “ Missis.”
The fact is, there ought to be no more necessity for showing that
the Stage is not a profession on the same level with the recognised
professions, than there is to demonstrate that two and two make
four. The occasion only arises when some ambitious individual
claims for two and two a result beyond the limit assigned to those
quantities by an inexorable arithmetic.
Every article that we have seen intended as an answer to “ Behind
the Scenes,” in the Fortnightly for January, has gone wide of the
mark, and has generally “answered” something that the article
never stated. Of course it is evident that, constituted as society is,
the “ profession” of any art, or of journalism, cannot be on an
equality with the recognised professions. Were the nobility to
invade the Stage, did Dukes take to “utility,” if Duchesses became
“leading Ladies,” and Countesses “singing chambermaids,” the
question of social position would not be in the least affected, and the
Stage would be no more on a level with the recognised Professions,
on account of the rank of its individual members, than it is now on
the score of the exemplary blamelessness of the Actors’ private lives,
or of their wealth, or of their perfect courtesy, or of their large-
heartedness and unostentatious generosity.
When it was announced that Prince Ldward of Wales was to be
made a Bencher of the Middle Temple, the. Times congratulated His
Royal Highness on associating himself with.the Legal Profession,
“ so indispensable to mankind, and so great in itself,” and showed
how justly proud England, for hundreds of years, has been of her
Bar, and how gratified the young Prince might well feel on becoming
a member of so distinguished a Body. How, if the hypothesis could be
granted that the Stage is on an equality with the Bar, then we might
hear of one of the youthful Princes announcing his intention of
becoming an Actor, and of entering himself as a Member of one of the
principal London Theatrical Companies; and further, the Times, as
representing the popular voice, would congratulate his Royal High-
ness, on “associating himself with the Histrionic Profession, of
which England has for centuries been so justly proud,” and so forth.
Quod est absardum. Why should histrionic apologists rage, on
being brought face to face with facts which the sensible ones of “ the
profession ” are perfectly willing to admit ?
By the way, the Stage can boast of one Emperor who went on the
boards, and was eminently successful as an Actor, Author, Singer,
Composer, and finally Circus performer. He certainly had a plea-
sant way of disposing of all rivals and of silencing, every adverse
critic by the simple process of instantaneous decapitation. Don’t
most of us envy him such a power ? The man who hadn’t sense
enough iu his head to appland his Emperor was evidently unfit to
have a head at all, and consequently off it went. This Imperial His-
trion’s name was See0' A most accomplished scoundrel; but he did
not effect much towards “elevating the Drama,” or raising “the
social status of the Aetor,” which social status is, and always will be,
j ust exactly what the Artist, be he Aetor, Painter, Composer, or
Author, may choose to make it for himself.
It is a notorious fact that, for some mysterious reason or other, the
gentleman who represented the Times at Calcutta, no less than his
Editorial employer, who directs the destinies of that frisky but un-
fathomable journal in Printing House Square assumed a painfully
gloomy, and, on several occasions, a really depressingly ill-tempered
attitude towards the late Viceroy of India. This, however, was
chiefly, noticeable during the period of his able and successful
administration of the duties of his office, for, beyond indulging in a
little natural yelp now and then at his Lordship’s heels, the leading
journal has, since Lord Ripon’s return to this country, treated him
with a sufficient, if sulky respect. This is, of course, as it should
be, for the Times is—well, the Times. But why should somebody,
signing himself “J. M. Maclean,” have anything to say on the
subject ? Who is Mr. Maclean ?
It is true that he informs the public not only that he was once a
member of a Club called the “ Northbrook,” but that in a fit of
chagrin with some unhappy Committee that had asked Lord Rlpon
to dinner, he had taken his name off the books. Still this is scarcely
Imperial intelligence, and worthy of being set up in type. Even less
worthy of publication is the following. Referring to the well-
deserved ovation that has greeted Lord Ripon on his return to this
country, Mr. Maclean is allowed to remark that—
“ Day after day and week after week, with a wondrous self-complacency,
he sings Ms own praises as not a statesman merely, but a hero and a saint,
while the part of chorus is performed by the well-trained school of Radical
politicians whose main business in life appears to be to vilify English rule
and destroy English ascendency in every comer of the earth.”
Coming.from any influential quarter the above would be almost, if
not quite impertinent. As it stands it is both humorous and harm-
less, being only noticeable at all as an indication of the extreme un-
fitness for all loyally Imperial legislation that characterises the
majority of those retired dyspeptics who are highly respected—at
least by each other—under the generic appellation of “ Anglo-
Indians.” Had Mr. Punch time and space to spare, he would like
to say a strong word or two to these self-sufficient gentlemen con-
cerning the intellectual estimate they have formed of their brother
subject of Her Most Gracious Majesty, “ The Rigger.” If it be
“ rank radicalism” to civilise., to elevate, and finally, to emancipate
our fellow-men from all disabilities whatever, then is Mr. Punch,
iu company with the late distinguished Viceroy of India, the very
rankest of rank Radicals.
GENERAL SIR HERBERT STEWART.
Born June 30, 1843 ; wounded in fight near Metemneh, January 19, 188a ;
died at Ga/cdul, February 16, 1885.
Young, gallant, sage in council, swift in fight,
O’er a bright day falls a too eariy night.
The tears that from his comrades’ eyes fast fell,
In that small graveyard by the Gakdu.1 well,
Are such a tribute to a brave man slain
As heroes live to earn, and gladly die to gain.
ENCOURAGEMENT.
Hek Gracious Majesty addressed a few heart-stirring words to
her Grenadier Guards at Windsor on the eve of their departure,
and told them how confident she was that they would ‘ ‘ ever maintain
the honour and reputation of British Soldiers.” In the parallel
column of the Daily Chronicle, in which this report appeared, there
was a paragraph headed “ Our Warriors’ Wives,’’ informing us “that
the soldiers’ wives and children had been ordered out of barracks,”
that they had an allowance respectively of 8d. and 2d. ahead a day,
and. that mostly without friends or relations, they were to all intents
and purposes temporarily homeless. Her Gracious Majesty’s eyes
must have lighted on this report, so that we may hope that this
cruel and stupid wrong has been repaired long before these lines
appear, for it would be a disgrace to ns all, from the highest to the
lowest, if while our Soldiers, to quote the Queen's words, are
“ maintaining the honour and reputation” of our Army abroad, we
were doing nothing to maintain their wives and children at home.
To know that no care would be taken of the wives, the boys, and
“ girls they leave behind them,” would be a nice thing pour en-
courager les autres.
Critical Query.—When Miss Anderson produces The Hunch-
back at the Lyceum, what view will the Times take of Master
Walter ?
Compliment on oue Colonies.—With Bismarck’s best wishes:
Beati possidentes.
TO CORRESPONDENTS_In no case can Contributions, whether US., Printed Matter, or Drawings, be returned, unless accompanied
fey a Stamped and Dirested Envelope or Cover. Copies of MS. should be kept by the Senders.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [FEBRUARY 28, 1885.
FEMALE “ TRAVELLERS.”
BRITISH BABOOS.
[From the German.)
I know a Maiden, with a bag,
Take care!
She carries samples in a drag,
Beware! beware!
0 Draper fond,
She is fooling thee !
She has the true “Commercial”
style,
Take care!
To which she addeth woman’s
gnile.
Beware ! beware!
0 Grocer goose,
She is plucking thee !
And she has quite a flood of talk,
Take care!
She sells as cheese what’s only
chalk,
Beware! beware!
0 Dealer daft,
She’s deceiving thee !
Her eyes are really wondrous
black,
Take care!
They make a shiver run down
your back,
Beware! beware!
0 Shopman soft,
She is ogling thee !
She sells you a silk of “perfect
wear,”
Take care!
At it your customers will swear,
Beware! beware!
Trust her not,
This Travelling She!
MUCH ADO.
2 propos of the Theatrical Dovecot fluttered by the article in last
month’s Fortnightly, the Editor of The Theatre has correctly pointed
out that the author of that article did not originate the excitement,
but that it was commenced by what we at the time called the
“ Kendal-light ” thrown on the .Stage by the unlucky Brummagem
discourse. To adapt the opening sentence of Chaki.es Dickens’s
Cricket on the Hearth, we may substitute “ Kendal ”. for “ Kettle,”
and say “ Kendal began it,”—not “ Mister,” but “ Missis.”
The fact is, there ought to be no more necessity for showing that
the Stage is not a profession on the same level with the recognised
professions, than there is to demonstrate that two and two make
four. The occasion only arises when some ambitious individual
claims for two and two a result beyond the limit assigned to those
quantities by an inexorable arithmetic.
Every article that we have seen intended as an answer to “ Behind
the Scenes,” in the Fortnightly for January, has gone wide of the
mark, and has generally “answered” something that the article
never stated. Of course it is evident that, constituted as society is,
the “ profession” of any art, or of journalism, cannot be on an
equality with the recognised professions. Were the nobility to
invade the Stage, did Dukes take to “utility,” if Duchesses became
“leading Ladies,” and Countesses “singing chambermaids,” the
question of social position would not be in the least affected, and the
Stage would be no more on a level with the recognised Professions,
on account of the rank of its individual members, than it is now on
the score of the exemplary blamelessness of the Actors’ private lives,
or of their wealth, or of their perfect courtesy, or of their large-
heartedness and unostentatious generosity.
When it was announced that Prince Ldward of Wales was to be
made a Bencher of the Middle Temple, the. Times congratulated His
Royal Highness on associating himself with.the Legal Profession,
“ so indispensable to mankind, and so great in itself,” and showed
how justly proud England, for hundreds of years, has been of her
Bar, and how gratified the young Prince might well feel on becoming
a member of so distinguished a Body. How, if the hypothesis could be
granted that the Stage is on an equality with the Bar, then we might
hear of one of the youthful Princes announcing his intention of
becoming an Actor, and of entering himself as a Member of one of the
principal London Theatrical Companies; and further, the Times, as
representing the popular voice, would congratulate his Royal High-
ness, on “associating himself with the Histrionic Profession, of
which England has for centuries been so justly proud,” and so forth.
Quod est absardum. Why should histrionic apologists rage, on
being brought face to face with facts which the sensible ones of “ the
profession ” are perfectly willing to admit ?
By the way, the Stage can boast of one Emperor who went on the
boards, and was eminently successful as an Actor, Author, Singer,
Composer, and finally Circus performer. He certainly had a plea-
sant way of disposing of all rivals and of silencing, every adverse
critic by the simple process of instantaneous decapitation. Don’t
most of us envy him such a power ? The man who hadn’t sense
enough iu his head to appland his Emperor was evidently unfit to
have a head at all, and consequently off it went. This Imperial His-
trion’s name was See0' A most accomplished scoundrel; but he did
not effect much towards “elevating the Drama,” or raising “the
social status of the Aetor,” which social status is, and always will be,
j ust exactly what the Artist, be he Aetor, Painter, Composer, or
Author, may choose to make it for himself.
It is a notorious fact that, for some mysterious reason or other, the
gentleman who represented the Times at Calcutta, no less than his
Editorial employer, who directs the destinies of that frisky but un-
fathomable journal in Printing House Square assumed a painfully
gloomy, and, on several occasions, a really depressingly ill-tempered
attitude towards the late Viceroy of India. This, however, was
chiefly, noticeable during the period of his able and successful
administration of the duties of his office, for, beyond indulging in a
little natural yelp now and then at his Lordship’s heels, the leading
journal has, since Lord Ripon’s return to this country, treated him
with a sufficient, if sulky respect. This is, of course, as it should
be, for the Times is—well, the Times. But why should somebody,
signing himself “J. M. Maclean,” have anything to say on the
subject ? Who is Mr. Maclean ?
It is true that he informs the public not only that he was once a
member of a Club called the “ Northbrook,” but that in a fit of
chagrin with some unhappy Committee that had asked Lord Rlpon
to dinner, he had taken his name off the books. Still this is scarcely
Imperial intelligence, and worthy of being set up in type. Even less
worthy of publication is the following. Referring to the well-
deserved ovation that has greeted Lord Ripon on his return to this
country, Mr. Maclean is allowed to remark that—
“ Day after day and week after week, with a wondrous self-complacency,
he sings Ms own praises as not a statesman merely, but a hero and a saint,
while the part of chorus is performed by the well-trained school of Radical
politicians whose main business in life appears to be to vilify English rule
and destroy English ascendency in every comer of the earth.”
Coming.from any influential quarter the above would be almost, if
not quite impertinent. As it stands it is both humorous and harm-
less, being only noticeable at all as an indication of the extreme un-
fitness for all loyally Imperial legislation that characterises the
majority of those retired dyspeptics who are highly respected—at
least by each other—under the generic appellation of “ Anglo-
Indians.” Had Mr. Punch time and space to spare, he would like
to say a strong word or two to these self-sufficient gentlemen con-
cerning the intellectual estimate they have formed of their brother
subject of Her Most Gracious Majesty, “ The Rigger.” If it be
“ rank radicalism” to civilise., to elevate, and finally, to emancipate
our fellow-men from all disabilities whatever, then is Mr. Punch,
iu company with the late distinguished Viceroy of India, the very
rankest of rank Radicals.
GENERAL SIR HERBERT STEWART.
Born June 30, 1843 ; wounded in fight near Metemneh, January 19, 188a ;
died at Ga/cdul, February 16, 1885.
Young, gallant, sage in council, swift in fight,
O’er a bright day falls a too eariy night.
The tears that from his comrades’ eyes fast fell,
In that small graveyard by the Gakdu.1 well,
Are such a tribute to a brave man slain
As heroes live to earn, and gladly die to gain.
ENCOURAGEMENT.
Hek Gracious Majesty addressed a few heart-stirring words to
her Grenadier Guards at Windsor on the eve of their departure,
and told them how confident she was that they would ‘ ‘ ever maintain
the honour and reputation of British Soldiers.” In the parallel
column of the Daily Chronicle, in which this report appeared, there
was a paragraph headed “ Our Warriors’ Wives,’’ informing us “that
the soldiers’ wives and children had been ordered out of barracks,”
that they had an allowance respectively of 8d. and 2d. ahead a day,
and. that mostly without friends or relations, they were to all intents
and purposes temporarily homeless. Her Gracious Majesty’s eyes
must have lighted on this report, so that we may hope that this
cruel and stupid wrong has been repaired long before these lines
appear, for it would be a disgrace to ns all, from the highest to the
lowest, if while our Soldiers, to quote the Queen's words, are
“ maintaining the honour and reputation” of our Army abroad, we
were doing nothing to maintain their wives and children at home.
To know that no care would be taken of the wives, the boys, and
“ girls they leave behind them,” would be a nice thing pour en-
courager les autres.
Critical Query.—When Miss Anderson produces The Hunch-
back at the Lyceum, what view will the Times take of Master
Walter ?
Compliment on oue Colonies.—With Bismarck’s best wishes:
Beati possidentes.
TO CORRESPONDENTS_In no case can Contributions, whether US., Printed Matter, or Drawings, be returned, unless accompanied
fey a Stamped and Dirested Envelope or Cover. Copies of MS. should be kept by the Senders.