Punch (95.1888)

76

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Atjgust 18, 1888.

VOCES POPULI.

A PASTORAL PLAT. (A REMINISCENCE OF THE PAST JULY.)

Argument.—Mr. and Mrs. Brondesbury Brown (of North Kensington),
roused to emulation by certain recent open-air performances, have invited
their friends to witness a selection from The Tempest in the garden of their
villa, "Fontainebleau" (which derives its title from two remarkably fine
plane-trees at one end of the lawn).

Scene—The Auditorium. Mr. and Mrs. B. B. discovered in readiness
to receive their Guests.

Mrs. B. B. {with a desperate cheerfulness). Do you know, Bron-
desbury, dear, 1 really do believe we shall have it fine, after all ?

B. B. [not a Pastoral Enthusiast).
I shouldn't be surprised if it did
fk clear up—about midnight.

Mrs. B. B. Well, if it doesn't
rain any more till all the people are
here, / shall be satisfied.

[She says this with a dim notion
of propitiating the Powers that
he by her moderation.
B. B. "Why, you won't do it out
here if it rains, will you ?

Mrs. B. B. (with a deadly calm).
Where do you suppose we shall do
it, then ?

B. B. (feebly). Why not in the
—ar—Drawing-room ?

Mrs. B. B. (fanning herself).
Really, Brondesbury, you are too
trying- for anything! A Pastoral

Play in the Drawing-room! Have
The Naiades'Garden Party last July. yol/ wo gense of th(J ridioulolls?

Do you know what a Pastoral Play is f
B. B. (grimly). I'm beginning to find out, my dear.
The First Guests hopefully (as they make their way down the little
cast-iron staircase to the lawn, which is roofed over with sail-cloth,
and provided with rout-seats and chairs). They can't possibly mean
to have it this evening—we shall be able to get away all the sooner !
(To their hostess.) Oh, Mrs. Brown, how unfortunate ! such hopeless
weather for it! We really ought not to have come at all.

Mrs. B. Oh, but indeed—we 're not afraid of a few drops of rain—
you shan't be disappointed! (General fall of jaws.) We're going to
begin as soon as ever a few more people come. You shan't go away
without your Tempest!

[Guests, realising that they are in for one, at the very least, seat
themselves with hypocritical expressions of delight.

Behind the Curtain : Under the Plane-Trees.

The King of Naples (to Ferdinand). I say, old fellow, if we're to
lie down and go to sleep here, we must have a little sawdust thrown
down first. The ground's sopping !

Ferdinand (also Stage Manager). Oh, don't bother me, my dear
fellow! Where the dickens am I to find sawdust ?

The K. of N. (unkindly). Thought you might have spared us some
out of your calves!

Miranda. I have to go to sleep, too; and that couch is simply
soaked!

Ferdinand (irritably). Soaked? Of course it's soaked! It's
Pastoral. We must put up with it, that's all. My dear child, what
on earth have you got on your feet ?

Miranda (regarding her goloshes ruefully). They're mother's. She
made me promise to wear them if the ground was at all damp.

Ariel (to Maid, who has come round by the path). Well, Tucker,
what is it now ?

Maid. Your Aunt's love, Miss; and she must insist onyour putting
on this.

Ariel. What a shame ! (To King.) I can't act Ariel in a water-
proof, can I ?

TheK.ofN. (sardonically). Oh, why not? We must try and borrow
an old sou'-wester for Prospero, though, or he'll be out of the
picture. (Angrily, aside to Ferdinand.) Hang it all, we'd better do
the whole thing under umbrellas at once !

Caliban (to Miranda). All /know is, I hope we shall begin soon.
If I stand about in a damp hump much longer, I shall be ill. Just
feel it. [Miranda feels his hump delicately, and commiserates him.

Prospero. Never mind your Irump—see if you can tell me how to
make this confounded beard of mine stick on—the rain's washed off
all the gum.

In Front—Before Play Begins.
Mrs. Harlesden Smith. Oh, I shall see splendidly here, thanks,
dear Mrs. Brown, how well you have arranged it all! It's really not
at all cold—well, if you would go and fetch my cloak, Harlesden,
perhaps it might be more-

Miss Ladbroke Hill (to Mr. Kensal Green). Such a charming
idea, these garden theatricals. So different from a hot stuffy
theatre!

Mr. Kensal Green (putting up his coat-collar). It certainly is the
reverse of stuffy here! Plenty of air !

Miranda's MotherMI do wish they would begin. I can't bear to
think of my poor girl standing about on that nasty wet grass all this
time—so bad for her!

Ariel's Aunt.—If I had guessed it would turn out such a night as
this, I would never have allowed my niece to accept the part—and

even as it is-

{The curtains drawn aside, and play begins; Prospero instructs
Miranda concerning the family history in the midst of a
heavy downpour. One of Ariel's shoes come off in the
mud.

Miss Ladbroke Hill. How well they did the lightning then,
didn't they ?

Mr. K. G. Oh, it's all genuine—the Browns are determined to
do the thing well. Thunder, too, you see ? There's nothing mean
about Brown !

Miranda's Mother. That dreadful lightning! Oh, Mrs. Brown,
do please tell them to come away from the trees—it is so dangerous!

Cecil's Aunt. Oh, do ; they might be struck down at any moment
—it's tempting Providence!

Mrs. Brown (in despair). It—it's only sAeei-lightning. Please—
please don't say anything about it to them now—it will only put
them out. They 're getting on so nicely!

Enter Caliban (on stage—moist, but maledictory).
" As wicked dew as e'er my mother brushed ....
Drop on you both—a south-west blow on ye! "

Prospero [with feeling). "Fortius, be sure, to-night thou shalt
have cramps! "

Mr. K. G. (sotto voce). If Caliban don't have them, I shall!

Enter Trinculo (on stage). "If it should thundertis it did before,
I know not where to hide my head. Yond same cloud cannot choose
but fall by pailfuls. . . . Alas, the storm is come again! " &c, &c.

[Beat thunder—rain descends pitilessly.

Mr. K. G. Really a triumph of stage-management!

Enter Ferdinand on stage, bearing a log (he throws it down with
a heavy splash). " There be some sports are painful.''

Mr. K. G. (who has been sitting for some time with a stream of
water from the roof trickling down the back of his neck). Pastoral
Plays, for example.

[Scene with Miranda is proceeding in_ pelting rain, which extin-
guishes most of the lamps which light the scene, when-■

Miranda's Mother (rises). I can't help it, Mrs. Brown,—flesh and
blood can't bear it. I can't sit here and see that poor child catching
cold under my very eyes. Minnie, dear, come in under the tent out
of the rain this instant! Do you hear ? I order you!

[Sensation in audience.—on the whole, hardly of disapproval.

Miranda. In a minute, Mamma. "I am a fool to weep at what I
am glad of." (To Prospero.) I really must go. It's no use, when
Mamma once makes up her mind. [Prospero acquiesces sulkily.

Ariel's Aunt. I was just about to say the same thing, dear Mrs.
Sudbury ! Pastorals or no pastorals, I can't let my sister's child
commit suicide. Fanny, come too—and bring your waterproof.

Ferdinand (helplessly). But, I say, how are we to get along with-
out Miranda and Ariel ?

Miranda's Mother. That I can't pretend to decide—but I should
have thought you gentlemen could have finished it alone—somehow.
Or I don't object to Minnie's acting, provided she keeps under the
tent and speaks her part from there.

[Ariel's Aunt makes similar concession with regard to her niece.

Prospero. No, I don't think that would do. (To Mrs. Brown.)
Perhaps we had better stop for this evening—there doesn't seem to
be much chance of the weather improving, and—(candidly)—1 m
afraid it really is a little damp for the ladies,—eh, Brown ?

Mr. Brown (basely). Well, if you ask me, I think we've all had
about enough of it. [Mrs. B. conceals her mortification.

Guests (eagerly). It's been too charming, too delightful—but we
mustn't be selfish, must we ? It would be cruel to expect them to do
any more. And they are so wet, poor things !

[They adjourn with ill-disguised relief and profuse expressions
of gratitude.

In the Drawing-room—Later.
Mrs. Brondesbury Brown is shedding a quiet tear by the chimney-
piece ; Mr. Brondesbury Brown is humming, as he lights a
candle with one of the programmes.

Mr. B. B. (with offensive cheeriness). Do you know, I shouldn t
wonder if we had a fine day to-morrow—the glass is going up again.

Mrs. B. B. (in a muffled voice). It may, if it likes.

Mr. B. B. Come, come, Polly ! I'm sure everything went on-
very well—considering. I only hope none of the people will get rheu-
matism after it—that's all.

Mrs. B. B. I dud-don't c-care if they all die !

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