Punch (88.1885)

May 30, 1885.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

257

In addition to the foregoing selected specimens, ice beg to call the
attention of the Public to the following Pictures, which will be found,
we think, more correctly described here than in the Official Catalogue
Wo. 335. A Taking Stock.

No. 481. Cruelty at Sea. Sick passenger in berth being annoyed
by two sailors, one singing and playing, and the other smoking.
“ His Death which happened in his berth.”—Hood.

No. 485. Playing the popular See Saw "Waltz, or “A Nice
Scrape!” Sir Andrew Aguecheek, by John Tenniel, R.I. “He
plays the viol-de-gambo.” He is drawing the gam bow across the
strings, and probably making a viol noise which he considers
delightful. We make the candid a-viol that we think it excellent.
Of course this must be entirely “ without prejudice.”

No. 627. Nell and her Grandfather. The last Nell, we hope. We
would much rather have seen Codlin and Short.

No. 823. A Sea Piece, by Arthur Severn, R.I. This is real
Water Colour. It’s beautiful! it’s severnly!

No. 902. Fearful Tragedy in a Cornfield.

No. 601. No Buyers. Itetum of Unsuccessful Artist from Burlington House.

QUITE ANOTHER GORDON MEMORIAL.

The Grand Military Concert at the H6tel Metropole, was one of
the most brilliant sights we’ve seen for some time. All the rank
and fashion of the West and East were wandering about the
corridors, lounging on the divans, listening to the music, talking,
chatting, and enjoying themselves. Guardsmen were “Stewards.”
By the way, why cannot the title of “ Steward ” be dropped on such
festive and charitable occasions as concerts and dinners, especially
dinners ? “ Steward ” calls so forcibly to mind, the sea-passage
between Lover and Calais. The Stewards were distinguished by an
order worn on the right side of the dress-coat. Perhaps it was a
tasting order for the cellars of the Metropole.

the Prince and Princess arrived about 11'30, and there was the
usual loyal rush, scrooging and crowding to bask in the smiles of
for even a brief five seconds. It is a noticeable feature of
these gatherings that the people who scrooge, and rush, and
struggle the most to get into the front row and to obtain a loyal
eeognition of their presence by a special bow, or nod, or a pause
or a handshake, are just the very persons who see most of Royalty,

• fio meet Royalty constantly, and to whom, apparently, Royalty
the very breath of their lives. The rudeness of the best bred
persons, specially the ladies, who, we suppose, pick it up at the
fuiaTg'rooms- *s really remarkable. And oh, it is so delight-
tor> e?the supreme moment comes, and the Royal party is about
tion Hi a0 See Preparations for curtseying, the smiling, the agita-
femal 6 generaf pulling-themselves-together of everyone, male and

therp16’ an<^ tden-Their Royal Highnesses pass, greet here and

and an^e’"r^rou8h "whose frame a perceptible thrill of joy passes,
have h lno“,ls added to his or her stature,—and ignore those who
forwa d n j6 mosf eaKer and the most anxious to thrust themselves
the for depth of whose bitter disappointment, judging by

Wen*- s j e on their countenances, it would be difficult to gauge,
a lurooia an elderly Military-looking Man with decorations and
sm.1. « . V Dowager : they struggled into the front, and took up

slmnlJ10 ions as .seemed to declare that Their Royal Highnesses
Dnron'LlLP18,3 the Drawing Room over their bodies. The
Deentf+j e<* an<f laughed: so did her vis-d-vis the Elderly
decorated One. Thev s-ave. each on t.W „ .

decorated. One. They gave, each on their own side, m a low tone,
anecdotes of the Court and the high Society which they adora®d.
They expected to welcome the Prince and Princess as it they were
giving this grand party: and then the August Personages came
along smiling and bowing, and passed this couple without tne
slightest appearance of being aware of their presence: indeed, all tne
Decorated Person saw of Royalty was the Prince s back, while the
Princess spoke to a lady at a distance of three or four from the
Dowager, and then sailed on, passing the Dowager as it she had
Been invisible. Oh, how crestfallen they were! How like a couple
ot Cardinal Wolseys they must have felt when they got home, and
regretted their misspent hours of snobbishness.

the Life-Guards were on duty in the hall: they were magnificent,
but they were not War—thank goodness! The Guardsmen were
keeping order with sticks in their hands, as if they had been going

out for a walk, but had been suddenly stopped by their commanding
officer, and told to come into the Metropole Hotel. The Police were
also splendid. So was Our Robebt the Waiter from the City. The
supper and the champagne were excellent, and for this everyone had
worked up an appetite and drinkatite by wandering about the Hotel,
“ upstairs and downstairs and in my lady’s chamber.” In the bed-
rooms there were candles alight, and. all the rooms had the air of
present occupation. We felt quite diffident about entering the
rooms without knocking, and, on coming in suddenly, we were
inclined to say, “ Oh, beg pardon ! Didn’t know anyone was here,”
or “ Mistook the room for our own,” or some other mild excuse, and
retire awkwardly.

What a chance for the Metropole! Few hotels could get such an
opportunity of publicity. It is a magnificent place, and at first
sight, and on such a specially brilliant night as last Monday, the
Hotel seems to be made for the accommodation of Crowned Heads—•
none of your half-crowned heads—and for Rothsehildren. It is
sumptuous, yet in excellent taste, and, in spite of its magnificence,
we should say that, when it is in ordinary working order, it will
be as comfortable—for that’s the point, after all—as the Grand,
which has had some years the start of it.

It is a curious coincidence that this Military Concert for the benefit
of the Imperial late Egyptian War Fund, Soudan and Egypt, should
be intimately connected with the name of Gordon, who, associated
with so many successes in this line, is responsible for the manage-
ment of the Hotel Metropole.

Something like a
Bawl!

TAKING OFF THE MASQUE OF PAINTERS.

My dearest Gladys,

I am so sorry that your Papa’s gout kept you in the country.
He appears never to be well except in the hunting-season, when his
duties as M.F.H. seem to leave him no time for thinking about his
ailments ! Don’t say I am heartless, but I was
so disappointed that you did not come with us
to the Masque of Painters at the Royal Institute.
Such a pretty sight, dear! The tableaux were
a wee bit slow, and we had just a trifle too much
of Mr. Fobbes Robertson as Vergil. Mr. Fobbes
Robertson, it seems, is a Painter as well as an
Actor—how clever! But the Royalties were
simply lovely, especially our dear Princess.
They stayed until the early hours, although the
Prince and the Duke, to say nothing of the poor
Marquis (who seemed a little uncertain whether
he ought to seat himself in a gold chair, like his
Royal brothers-in-law, or be satisfied with a
resting-place of a less gorgeous material) must
have felt rather strange in their plain evening
dress in the midst of all the brilliant historical costumes and ancient
uniforms. Some of the dresses were so funny ! There was a comieal-
looking person in a toga and an immense wreath of lilacs, that
would keep falling into his eyes. And he wore a double eye-glass
(fancy an ancient Roman in a pince nez.'), and made us laugh so !

We were told that we should see all sorts of strange people, as the ball
was going to be “ rather mixed.” You know what 1 mean—“ Upper
Bohemia,” and that kind of thing. But, my dear, it was nothing of
the sort! Very nice and sedate—almost clerical! Fancy, not a
single actress! I was so disappointed ! I think the Actresses one
meets about so clever. But dear Mr. Bancroft was there, and I
think I recognised Mr. Habe. They seemed quite at ease in their
costumes because, of course, they are accustomed to dressing up. I
was surprised to see so few Royal Academicians. Poor dear Mr.
Millais is ill, but there was no Sir Frederick and no Sir John
Gilbert, and not even Mr. Horsley. Bebtie (who went with us
in_ the ancient costume of his own regiment, the Rifle Brigade)
pointed out to us the eccentric Roman as Mr. Alma-Tadema. But,
of course, he must have been joking! You know who I mean, Mr.
Alma-Tadema who paints all that wonderful marble, and is so
classical. But in spite of the absence of the R.A.’s (I do not mean
the Royal Artillery—that was well represented) and the theatrical
celebrities, we enjoyed ourselves immensely. Met lots of people in
our own set (by the way everybody seemed to be wearing powder,—
the shops of Fox and Clabkson must have been emptied of their
stock of white wigs), and didn’t come home until four in the morning.
Oh I do so wish you had been there.

Ever yours most affectionately,

Kitty Chattington.

Monday, 401, Eton Square.

Me. Ibving advertises that the Pit of the Lyceum is restored to
its “old form.” The “old form” doesn’t sound very comfortable.
Has the old form a back to it P and how many can sit on it at once ?