Punch (89.1885)

108

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[August 29, 188F.

FITZDOTTEREL;

OR, T'OTHER AND WHICH?

{By the Earl of L-tt-n.)

" Supposing I was you,

Supposing you was me,

And supposing we both was somebody else,
I wonder "who we should be."

Canto I.—Poissons D'Avbil.

Bobn on the first of April were they both,

My—may I call them heroes ? Our tale's threshold.
Presents a stumbling-block. I should be loth

To seem invidious ! May one fiction's mesh hold
Two heroes! Is Romance's law of growth

Thus violated ? Let me take a fresh hold
Upon my theme, which promises some trouble—
Hippocrene sometimes leads to seeing double

As well as mere " four-half."—To carry on
A sentence thus from one verse to another
Looks awkward, but the business I'm upon

Involves a deal of incidental bother
Of that sort. I would emulate Byron.

(Please shift the accent.) Critics raise a pother
About Don Juan, but I mean to equal
That masterpiece. You '11 see it in the sequel.

A whole three-volume Novel writ in rhyme

I rather think should crown a Bard with glory.
Whistleceaft's wit shall be eclipsed this time,

Beppo, old Puici's Morgante Maggiore
Will not be in it. The idea's sublime,

But somehow in the course of a long story
The Muse is apt to get a little murky
In meaning, and in measure somewhat jerky.

And yet this metre gives such splendid scope

For every sort of showy cleverness;

Tart epigram and transcendental trope;

And if I sometimes get into a mess
With limping-lame line-endings, still I hope

To make, at least, as shining a success
Of novel-writing on this novel plan,

As with the Government of Hindostan.

Therefore, here goes! Where was I ? Oh, I know:

April was hovering 'twixt a smile and tear,

(That's new and striking) when death hovered low

Betwixt two cradles and a single bier.

Old Janua Vita had been huffed, and so

His mood was at the moment rather queer.

He has a temper, Mors, and if you vex it
He's very apt to hurry on your exit.

'Tis best to be on pleasant terms with him.

Or with your plans he plays at pitch-and-toss;
Politeness costs you little—'tis his whim.

Ave, te salutamus Thanatos !

Comes very easy. If my meaning's dim,

And you to catch my drift are at a loss,

Know that—in verse—you can't get through a story
Without some Latin and much allegory.

Death is like Woman, wanton and capricious,

In fact I think those artists mediaeval
In making Mors a male were injudicious.

Mighty is Art, but one must not receive all
Its types and figures, howsoe'er delicious,

Without investigation. I believe all
The naughty tricks Mortality plays the Human
Confirm my theory—that Death's a Woman I

One of the babes above referred to sprang
From an old race with this peculiarity ;

It was its changeless destiny to Hang !—

A most unenviable racial rarity.

It seemed a gallows shame—that sounds like slang!—

For one may say, with no great stretch of charity,
Scarce more than half of them entirely merited
The dismal destiny they all inherited.

Many an old Fitzdottebel no doubt

Deserved to dance on nothing, and exhibit
His struggling form, amidst the Mob's mad shout,

On Tudor scaffold or on Georgian gibbet ;

But caught like Absolom ? lassoed by a scout ?

Choked by a necktie which had charmed Beau Thibet ?
These—all Fitzdotterel endings—seemed to be
Exceedingly bad jokes of Destiny!

So thought old Edelweiss, a learned Teuton,

Who made heredity his favourite study.

Invited once Fitzdotterel moors to shoot on,

His powers of miss, his visage round and ruddy,
His learning, worthy of Laplace or Newton,

And a sweet knack of brewing whiskey-toddy,
Endeared him so to the then heir, Lord Romillt,

That ever afterward the two loved chummily.

Between his love for Romillt, and his yearning

To see his philsosophic theories verified,

Edelweiss halted. Strange that Love and Learning

Antagonise. The Teuton was quite terrified
To feel his curiosity keen and burning

(By self-reproach's flagellation scarified)

To learn if Romillt too would hang, contend
With his affection for his " noble friend."

And now that point was settled. Romillt's throat

Caught by a falling telegraph wire—enough!
Edelweiss dropped a tear, and made a note ;

(Humanity is made of mingled stuff.)

In that same hour the Lady Gildagboat

Gave birth to a new heir. The Teuton tough
Murmured " Ach Himmel! Hope grim fate [mayn't
trouble 'em.

But Donnerwetter !—this renews the problem!"

It did, and in a complicated form;

For that same night, in the same Inn, was born
Another boy 1 A frightful thunderstorm

Broke o'er the town. The Nurses, who had torn
The infants from their cradles snug and warm,

Hid in a cellar! On the following morn
They sallied forth, cheeks pale and wild eyes fixed.
For in their fright the babies had got mixed !

" An old stock incident," the reader cries.

Why, yes ; but a romance is like a salad,

Not in the ingredients the skilled art lies,

But in the mixing. Novel, Play, Bab-Ballad
Of this most commonplace of mysteries

Have made their use ; I felt that I a call had
To show how Genius handled it. I'm twitted
With (Here two hundred stanzas are omitted !

True, they are full of fine mixed lore ; they hop

From Cleopatba's cheek to Zoboasteb,

Slip f rom Biology to learned Bopp,

But Genius, though of many things a master,

Seems ignorant of one thing—where to stop.

For one small edifice of lath and plaster
Ten miles of scaffolding sense should not ask,

So here the scissors ply their needful task.)

But to resume. Fitzdotteeel's fated heir

And an old German Socialist's last son,

Both born in the same hour, a storm, a scare !—

Sure, here's material for mystery, fun,

And high romance ! Well, all shall have their share

As well I hope to prove ere I have done,

Say, in six books and seven hundred pages,

(Cut down at times, like trees or workmen1 s wages .')

Our Odd Whimbledon.

Notice to Competitobs.—" Interiors and Exteriors, No. 16."
The term for guessing the names of the figures in this "pictorial
key,'' expired on Saturday, the 22nd, inclusive. The result of the
shooting will be duly announced, and the prize awarded for the most
successful shots.

A Hint.—The Shipowners of all nationalities have made a repre-
sentation to their several Ministers in Egypt with respect to the
light-dues at present levied by the Egyptian Government. Surely,
they ought to be satisfied with light dues, unless they can get them
made lighter. But better leave well alone.

Oub Joe Chambeelain—Partner Joe—is still bent on saving life
at sea. He must get his facts all right, or he '11 find himself at sea,
which we should muoh regret. To him will be applied that line about
the sheer hulk, Tom Bowline, and Mr. Chambeblain will be known
as " The darling of his screw."

What intimate connection is there between the Lungs of London
and the Lights of the Metropolis.

Jg" TO COKIiESPOSDKIiXS.—In bo ease can Contributions, whether MS., Printed Hatter, or Drawings, be returned, unleat aae-ompaaiatf
by s Stamped and Directed Envelope or Cover. Copie« of MS. should be Iropt by the Sondara,