Punch (90.1886)

March 27, 1886.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVAEI.

153

TO BE RECTIFIED.

Sib,—I have never been inside the House of Commons, hut it does
seem to he highly disrespectful, and very thoughtless on the part of
the architect, not to have provided a proper_ seat for the Heir to the
Throne when he visits the House. My indignation was excited hy
reading this:—

" The Prince of "Wales -was present in
the House of Commons last night to hear
Lord Charles Bebeseokd's speech on the
Navy. The Prince occupied a seat over the
clock."

Or was it like this P—

Either would'make a good notion for a time-piece to mark the
epoch, and the figure of H.R.H. might he mechanical, to move the
arms and eyes; but in any case I sincerely trust that the faithful
Commons will see to this, and not again offend the loyal susceptibi-
lities of Tours truly, Dun Ceambo Ceambo.

Societies." Tells me that " charity begins at home," and wishes to
know if I've got no relatives ?

I reply that I'm thinking of leaving £50,000 to each of my deceased
third cousin's thirteen children, as a "pleasant little surprise."

By a rapid process of mental calculation Solicitor sees that this
disposes, at one blow, of £650,000. Asks if " I really mean to be so
uncommonly generous to such distant connections ? "

I explain to him that it isn't generosity at all, only justice, and
that really and truly I've no moral title whatever to Uncle James's
property.

Solicitor seems surprised and pained. He won't discuss the ques-
tion, but looks at me rather strangely. Fancy he thinks me a little
cracked; but quite approves of a "considerable sum"—I put it
vaguely like that, because I'm really afraid of mentioning a figure
which will further irritate Solicitor—being devoted to Lord Mayor's
Fund for Relief of Unemployed.

I suggest that with remaining money I might do something for better
housing of working-men. Something like Somebody's Buildings,
in fact. Solicitor more doubtful than before. Says he's heard—but
he mentions matter under all reserve, and without prejudice—that
Somebody's Buildings are, well, not a failure, but only a drop in the
ocean, as it were. Advises me to reconsider whole subject, and gets
up to leave. Says I " want cheerful soeiety," invites me again to
to his shooting-box, and mentions, quite casually, that his wife is
expecting " one or two lovely girls " to stop with her next week.

Problem of Proper Distribution of Wealth is becoming darker than
ever !

SOME MOKE " SOCIAL PROBLEMS."

(Not by Mr. George.)

Just heard that Uncle James has left me all his money ! "What a
responsibility! Am almost ashamed to inquire how much it is.
Really, afraid I may be a Capitalist, after all. And I have
always been so bitter against Capitalists! Hope it isn't a Million.

Uncle James's Solicitor just called. Find that Uncle James has left
me not one Million, but two and a half! This is worse and worse.

Curious how instantaneously the knowledge of my increase of wealth
seems to spread. Already received pressing letters from—

1. Income-Tax Commissioners. 2. My deceased third cousin's
enormous and shockingly impecunious family. 3. Any number of
friends (with marriageable daughters) who want me to go and dine
with them, just in a quiet way ! 4. All the Charitable Societies in
London. 5. All the needy vagabonds in Great Britain. 6. All the
swindling lotteries in Europe.

Uncle James's Solicitor says he has a nice little country box down
in Hampshire, and offers "to put me up there whenever I like to
come." Very nice of him. Solicitor's real business with me is to say,
what he forgot before, that a man of my wealth and position—(Fancy
having "a position!" What a nuisance. Such an awkward posi-
tion too!)—ought not to lose a day before making some "testa-
mentary disposition of his real and personal property." In other
words, Solicitor wants me to make my will—or rather, wants to make
it for me. Think it's rather bad taste of Solicitor to mention subject
of will. Tell him I '11 think the matter over.

Save thought it over. Feel it would be inconsistent with all my
convictions and professions (especially the latter) to regard myself
as entitled to more than small modicum of Uncle James's money.
Question is—how much exactly is mine, and how much is Society's ?
And when that point is settled, in what way am I to distribute that
portion belonging to Society ? Last question seems absurd, because
if it belongs to Society, surely Society is the person to distribute it,
and not I. But then, as a matter of fact, I happen to have the
money, owing to that stupid convention which says it belongs to me;
and so after all I'm afraid I shall have to resign myself to the bother
of giving away a large sum which isn't properly mine at all. Have
always prided, myself on acting from principle—difficulty here is that
I don't quite know on what principle to act.

Devote myself to serious study of Political Economy as bearing on
problem of proper distribution of wealth.

After two sleepless nights and a day of intense thought, fancy I've
elaborated a just method of disposing of my property by will. Send
for Solicitor.

" If A. (I tell him) represents my whole wealth "-

Solicitor suggests "available assets" instead of " wealth," which

sounds as if I were a Bankrupt.

" And B. (I gc on) the amount I've decided to devote to charitable

uses."-— _

SoHcitor'interrupts me. He hopes, in tone of deep anxiety, I'm
not going to "allow myself to be swindled by a lot of begging

"WHY AM I A SUCCESS?"

From Mr. J. L. T—le.—Because friend Diving was jealous of
me, and wouldn't let me do the Ghost, Macduff, and Faust at the
Lyceum. .

From Mr. W-ls-n B-rr-tt.—Because I saw Charles Kean, as
a lad, from the Princess's gallery, and consequently took to swearing.
Because the Public prefer me to Irving. Because I am the actual
Author of Messrs. Herman, Jones, and Sydney Grundy's original
plays. Because I have invariably refused to be photographed.

From Lord W-ls-l-y.—Because, in spite of being a Viscount,
I have generally employed a Peer, or the relative of a Peer, to carry
home despatches. Because, in recounting my victories, I closely fol-
lowed the style of my friend Mr. Augustus Hareis. Because I hate
" rings," and have set my face against encouraging a titled clique.
Because, when after all is said and done, I am really and truly—
indeed I am—the only General.

From Lord T-nn-s-n.—Because I get a guinea a line. Because
(had they been properly produced) my plays would have been gigantic
draws. Because I know how to attract by eccentricity as instanced
by my being photographed in a shocking bad hat, and leaving out the
prefix in " a Beckett."

From the Right lion. TV. E. Gl-dst-ne.—Because my parents
refused to allow me to become a Christy Minstrel in spite of my pro-
ficiency in nigger-songs, and performing on the bones or tambourine.
Because everybody likes my collars. Because the "Grand Old
Man " was a capital title. Because-- • •

[But our limited space does not permit the publication of further
details which in this last instance extends over three dozen closely
written post-cards.—Ed. Punch.']

Of Michael,—not " Angelo."—The Daily News, in a leaderette
on the Davitt affair, at Oxford, said: '' Oxford is one of the last homes
of hospitality. The old rule of hospitality was, that if your enemy
reached your hearth, and took his place there, he was safe for the
night." The Daily Neivs then went on to say :—

" The same rule holds even in Fiji. Some years ago an English naval officer,
lost in the mountains of Fiji, went straight up to the hut of a chief and was
in security till after sunrise. He was hospitably treated, and a female slave
enabled him to escape during the night. After sunrise he would have been
killed and probably eaten. Similar hospitality should prevail at Oxford."

Did the Daily News wish to imply that the Oxonians ought to have
killed and eaten Michael Davitt after sunrise ! It seems that with-
out even having been "roasted," Michael Davitt went down with
them very well.

A Peecocious Ceitic—Feancisque Saecey, the well-known French
dramatic critic, lately wrote in the Temps, " Quand je suis entre
dans la critique, il y a plus d'un demi-siecle." Whereupon the
Figaro reckons it up thus:—" M. Saecey was born in 1828 ; we are
in 1886. Therefore, if M. Saecy commenced his career as a critic
fifty years ago, he must have done so in 1836, when he was eight
years old! " What an infant phenomenon! A juvenile critic, not to
be got at with " chicken and champagne," but amenable to reason m
the shape of buns, oranges, toffy, and ginger-beer. The Criticising
Boy must have been very " cheeky," and always " sarcy.