Punch (95.1888)

246

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [November 24, 1888.

THE CHILD OF THE PERIOD.

Aunt Betsy. " I really wonder at your having so many French Books in your Library, James, with all your Daughters

growing up ! "

Eva (who has overlieard). "French Books, indeed! The idea! Why, we should never think of reading a French Book,

if we could help it—not even if papa were to forbid US to ! "

EXTREMES MEET.

(An Ancient Story with a Modern Moral.)

There was (of course it must have been long
since—

The present would regard with lofty pity
lien who such civic folly could evince)—

But, whensoe'er it was, there was a City ;
A populous City, of colossal size,

Over some hundreds of square miles ex-
tending,

Its palaces the marvel of all eyes,
Its serpentining maze of streets unending.

And it was wealthy, was that City wide,
The opulence of Ophir were a trifle

To what was stored m it on every side.
Its banks to sack, its palaces to rifle,
tut remp'; sucn st°ics as Lycurgus taught,
Muoh more mere ruffianly back-street ban-
ditti ;

So that if Wealth's position e'er was fraught
TV lth desperate danger, it was in that City.

And Power there had fashioned a Police
To safeguard Wealth, and keep poor rascals
quiet;

To bid the worrying wail of misery cease,

And check all impulse to rapine and riot.
Most wise, most provident in Power, of
course;

Where Lazarus and Dives are close neigh-
bours,

It needs the presence of well-ordered force
To keep Wealth safe, and Work-thralls at
their labours.

" Force is no remedy." This doctrine mad

Was held by some of Liberty's loud zealots.
'' How save by force is Order to be had
'Midst a mixed horde of millionnaires and
helots ?"
So Power very pertinently asked ;
And Law, in Tower's hands, supplied the
answer,

And held that to have bettered it had tasked
The skill of an Utopian necromancer.

There came a time—(of course, 'twas long
ago)—

When Power and its Police began to
wrangle.

Now, Music won't maintain its magic flow

When even the performers jar and jangle.
If the Big Drum belabours the Trombone,

And the Bass Viol pummels the First Fiddle,
Good-bye to harmony ! Time, tune, and tone

Will be chaotic as a madman's riddle.
Well, the Police appeared to lose its head,

And Power its heart; a serious disaster!
They seemed demented, by some strange new
dread, _ [master.

And doubtings as to which of them was
A Democratic Spectre startled some

As a new avatar of Demogorgon.
Others opined that this was all a hum,

That the loud mouth was merely Freedom's
organ,

Not Anarchy's red maw, or Robbery's gorge,
Gaping for prey, and avid after plunder;

'Twas merely an excuse for Power to forge
Fresh chains for Freedom and keep Labour
under.

Hence chiding and cross purposes, and hence
Much heated fuss that needed sense refri-
gerant.

You cannot quite depend on the Defence
When the Defenders are themselves belli-
gerent.

One Chief was sacked because he let the
clutch

Of Anarchy come close, and did too little.
Another one because he did too much,

Or so some said. '' Nay, not a jot or tittle!"
Others retorted. That he said a lot

Was very certain, and, no doubt, a pity.
Meanwhile, with wills at war and tempers
hot,

The prospect was not pleasant for that City.

The bearings of this ancient legend lie
In their contemporary application.

If such be visible to Wisdom's eye,
Wisdom should promptly change the situa-
tion.

Power may at the implication chafe ;

Police may fume at the implied comparison ;
But is the Citadel entirely safe

Whilst there is angry strife amidst the

A Distinction.

A Correspondent wants to know if an
Editor of a satirical and humorous Magazine
ought not himself to be an exceptionally bril-
liant wit? Our reply is, "Not necessarily;
but it is absolutely essential that he should
have all his wits about him,—on the staff."