DOI Heft:
February 23, 1889
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17687#0106
96
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[February 23, 1889.
WHAT MR. PUNCH’S MOON SAW.
SIXTH EVENING.
Hear what the Moon told Mr. Punch:—“I knew an Ant some time ago.
He belonged to the class of worker Ants, though he had been too much disturbed
in his mind of late to attend to his duties. Often of a night, when I was at my
full, and all the other ants in the hill were
busily engaged in their various labours,
he would come to the entrance of the
ant-hill, and gaze up at me with sorrowful,
hard, bright eyes. Frequently the other Ants
would follow, and endeavour, by striking him
with their antennce, to recall, him to the work
he was born to perform—but he heeded them
not. He complained bitterly that the whole
universe was m league against him. Many a
time has he reproached me for what he called
my ‘ cold and passionless serenity ’—and yet I
could not help it,” the Moon said, plaintively,
“ and I was really sorry for him. For a long
time I did not know the reason for his unhap-
piness—I thought it was what in Germany is
called ‘ Welt-schmerz,’ or despair over problems
in life which his intelligence was powerless to
solve. This is not uncommon among the more thoughtful Ants, and is"a very
sad thing to witness, because there is no certain cure for it.
“ However, it was worse even than this, as I learnt a few nights ago. It was
not to me, after all, that he confided his sad secret, though I happened to be
shining when he unburdened himself to a Soldier Ant who was on sentinel duty
at the gates. They conversed, of course, by touching one another with their
antennce, but I understood them quite well. From what passed, it appeared
that this unhappy Ant was indeed to be pitied. He was suffering, as he said
himself, from the pangs of hopeless love, an attachment for one so far removed
from him in station that any return was impossible. The Sentinel was a rough
old warrior, and I thought he might have shown more sympathy. Females, such
was his opinion, were not worth so much fuss being made over them; he recom-
mended the other to ‘ be an Ant,’ and forget his infatuation, but this, the Civilian
Ant declared, was out of the question while he lived. Then, gathering courage,
he disclosed who it was that was the object of his passion ; and I myself grew
pale as I heard, for I could not have imagined such audacity. When I have
told you, it will be your turn to be shocked. You may even disbelieve it,
though it is quite true—the object of this misguided lover’s attachment was no
less a personage than the Queen of the Ant-hill herself! With antennce that
were quivering with emotion, he described how he had first beheld her, sitting in
the State Apartment, surrounded by pupa: and eggs, and how he had never been
the same Ant since. Yes,” said the Moon, thoughtfully, “I have seen many
lovers in my time, some of whom were in much the same position. I have seen
Antony at the feet of Cleopatra, I have heard the lutes of Rizzio and of
Chastelard—but that poor, humble, labouring Ant showed a passion more really
volcanic than any I had ever witnessed before. He absolutely rolled in the dust,
and bit his hind legs in the agony he suffered, though the Sentinel remained un-
moved by it all, and, as soon as the hapless lover had grown calmer, summoned
the guard, and informed them of his monstrous presumption. Next I saw that
they marched back through the gates into the Ant-hill with the labourer Ant
between them—a prisoner. The whole affair must have been kept very secret,”
concluded the Moon, “ for, up to the present time, I have not seen a word about
it in any of your papers. Yet I should like to know his fate, for I have not
been so interested in anything I have seen for a very long time.”
IN THE “ SUNNY SOUTH.”
{Notes from the Travel Diary of Toly, M.P.)
On bleak Bayonne
\ / tfiisri
Drifting to Lourdes;
No sunlight shone.
\\ | ^ ip§|L
By fog immured.
At Biarritz
At Arcachon
Wild hailstorm-fits.
i:i'i IHUk'lk-'’
Re-rained upon.
At Jean de Luz
And at Bordeaux
Fur coats we use.
-ji
A gale did blow.
A peep at Spain
My box I pack.
Blinded with rain.
11
And hurry back,
At crested Pau
Never to roam
Shut in by snow.
Again from Home.
The Curse of Koshiu, by the Hon. Lewis Wingeield. Curse-o1 -Koshoo !
Sounds like a sneeze, doesn’t it ? But, anyway, this is not a book to be sneezed
at. It is an original story, treated in an original manner, which is mighty
refreshing in these days, when most novelists run in the same groove. It is a
thrilling romance, written in Japan, with real Japanese sensation, properties and
scenery painted on the spot. It is a genuine Japanese story, which is not, to an
untravelled chap, an easy task to write—a cajiital bit of Japanese lacquer, which
should not lack a large number of readers.
THE IMPROMPTU ARMAMENT.
A Lay of the Chmless Fleet.
“It has been circumstantially stated, that at least 15 great
war-ships are useless for purposes of defence or attack, because
they are without guns.”—Universal Review.
“ It ’s as fine a fleet as you ’d put to sea,
If you come to measure by steam and tons ;
But you see, my Lord, it’s no use to me,
If it ain’t got none of them blessed guns! ”
It was a rough old Admiral who spoke,
And then a muffled oath or two he swore.
The First Lord smiled. He recognised the joke.—
The French in force were threatening the Nore.
For war had on a sudden been declared,
And things had gone,—well, just a little wrong.
In fact Whitehall had not been quite prepared,
Although on paper they had come it strong.
The Channel somehow had been deftly cleared :
And now the sole force left, the foe to meet,
Was, as the evening papers truly “feared,”
These fifteen vessels of the Gunless Fleet!
And so the First Lord thought it out a bit.
“ Look here,” he cried. “Don’t fear. We’ll see you
through,
You ’ll have your ships all right and trim and fit;
And this is all, you know, you ’ll have to do.
“ Behind the Horse Guards—there, two guns you ’ll find ;
They mayn’t, perhaps, prove quite the proper sort—
But take ’em. Then a third I’ve in my mind,
At Margate, by the flagstaff on the Fort.
“ On Ramsgate pier you ’ll find a couple more.
If of their size you ’re going to complain,
Well, go to Mr. Harris. He’s a store,
And p’raps might lend you some from Drury Lane.
“If you want more, there ’s some cracked thirty-twos
They ’ll let you have, at Portsmouth, I ’ll be bound.
So, though if not quite up to modern views,
Your fleet in guns won’t be half badly found !
“ So set about your work without delay! ”
The Admiral responded, “ Yes, my Lord ! ”
And gloomily went on his darkened way,
And, in low spirits, got his guns on board.
They had but one a-piece. He shook his head
As he, in tears, surveyed the sorry sight:
And then he called his Captains, and he said,—
“ D ’you know, I think, we didn’t ought to fight.
“ But here’s my orders sealed.” He looked them o’er,
Then shook his head again. “ It’s all no go ! ”
He cried—“ we’ve got to stop ’em at the Nore !
So follow, Mates ; I’m off to meet the foe ! ”
Then they set sail. They hadn’t far to run
Before they met the foe, and did their worst,—
Which wasn’t much, for every British gun
That day, soon as they fired it, straightway burst.
And so the Frenchmen triumphed down the line,
Sank half the fleet, and took the rest in tow;
Sailed up the Thames, crushed Woolwich by a fine,
And with a shot or two laid Greenwich low.
And when the Times came out next day and moaned
In three long leaders o’er the “ base defeat,”
And let the First Lord have it hot, and groaned <
At his shortcomings with his “ Gunless Fleet; ”
Until it stirred the mob, who then and there,
Determined jobbery should have its fall,
Dragged the First Lord from his official chair,
And lynched him on a lamp-post in Whitehall.
Rough justice, p’raps—but still it served its turn ;
For to the Board the revelation came,
That this new lesson they might have to learn,—
That public trust was not a party game !
And since that day each First Lord has relied,
The chances of invasion to prevent,
On ships with proper ordnance supplied—•
And not on an “ Impromptu Armament! ”
Kj* NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will
in xio case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule
there will he no exception.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[February 23, 1889.
WHAT MR. PUNCH’S MOON SAW.
SIXTH EVENING.
Hear what the Moon told Mr. Punch:—“I knew an Ant some time ago.
He belonged to the class of worker Ants, though he had been too much disturbed
in his mind of late to attend to his duties. Often of a night, when I was at my
full, and all the other ants in the hill were
busily engaged in their various labours,
he would come to the entrance of the
ant-hill, and gaze up at me with sorrowful,
hard, bright eyes. Frequently the other Ants
would follow, and endeavour, by striking him
with their antennce, to recall, him to the work
he was born to perform—but he heeded them
not. He complained bitterly that the whole
universe was m league against him. Many a
time has he reproached me for what he called
my ‘ cold and passionless serenity ’—and yet I
could not help it,” the Moon said, plaintively,
“ and I was really sorry for him. For a long
time I did not know the reason for his unhap-
piness—I thought it was what in Germany is
called ‘ Welt-schmerz,’ or despair over problems
in life which his intelligence was powerless to
solve. This is not uncommon among the more thoughtful Ants, and is"a very
sad thing to witness, because there is no certain cure for it.
“ However, it was worse even than this, as I learnt a few nights ago. It was
not to me, after all, that he confided his sad secret, though I happened to be
shining when he unburdened himself to a Soldier Ant who was on sentinel duty
at the gates. They conversed, of course, by touching one another with their
antennce, but I understood them quite well. From what passed, it appeared
that this unhappy Ant was indeed to be pitied. He was suffering, as he said
himself, from the pangs of hopeless love, an attachment for one so far removed
from him in station that any return was impossible. The Sentinel was a rough
old warrior, and I thought he might have shown more sympathy. Females, such
was his opinion, were not worth so much fuss being made over them; he recom-
mended the other to ‘ be an Ant,’ and forget his infatuation, but this, the Civilian
Ant declared, was out of the question while he lived. Then, gathering courage,
he disclosed who it was that was the object of his passion ; and I myself grew
pale as I heard, for I could not have imagined such audacity. When I have
told you, it will be your turn to be shocked. You may even disbelieve it,
though it is quite true—the object of this misguided lover’s attachment was no
less a personage than the Queen of the Ant-hill herself! With antennce that
were quivering with emotion, he described how he had first beheld her, sitting in
the State Apartment, surrounded by pupa: and eggs, and how he had never been
the same Ant since. Yes,” said the Moon, thoughtfully, “I have seen many
lovers in my time, some of whom were in much the same position. I have seen
Antony at the feet of Cleopatra, I have heard the lutes of Rizzio and of
Chastelard—but that poor, humble, labouring Ant showed a passion more really
volcanic than any I had ever witnessed before. He absolutely rolled in the dust,
and bit his hind legs in the agony he suffered, though the Sentinel remained un-
moved by it all, and, as soon as the hapless lover had grown calmer, summoned
the guard, and informed them of his monstrous presumption. Next I saw that
they marched back through the gates into the Ant-hill with the labourer Ant
between them—a prisoner. The whole affair must have been kept very secret,”
concluded the Moon, “ for, up to the present time, I have not seen a word about
it in any of your papers. Yet I should like to know his fate, for I have not
been so interested in anything I have seen for a very long time.”
IN THE “ SUNNY SOUTH.”
{Notes from the Travel Diary of Toly, M.P.)
On bleak Bayonne
\ / tfiisri
Drifting to Lourdes;
No sunlight shone.
\\ | ^ ip§|L
By fog immured.
At Biarritz
At Arcachon
Wild hailstorm-fits.
i:i'i IHUk'lk-'’
Re-rained upon.
At Jean de Luz
And at Bordeaux
Fur coats we use.
-ji
A gale did blow.
A peep at Spain
My box I pack.
Blinded with rain.
11
And hurry back,
At crested Pau
Never to roam
Shut in by snow.
Again from Home.
The Curse of Koshiu, by the Hon. Lewis Wingeield. Curse-o1 -Koshoo !
Sounds like a sneeze, doesn’t it ? But, anyway, this is not a book to be sneezed
at. It is an original story, treated in an original manner, which is mighty
refreshing in these days, when most novelists run in the same groove. It is a
thrilling romance, written in Japan, with real Japanese sensation, properties and
scenery painted on the spot. It is a genuine Japanese story, which is not, to an
untravelled chap, an easy task to write—a cajiital bit of Japanese lacquer, which
should not lack a large number of readers.
THE IMPROMPTU ARMAMENT.
A Lay of the Chmless Fleet.
“It has been circumstantially stated, that at least 15 great
war-ships are useless for purposes of defence or attack, because
they are without guns.”—Universal Review.
“ It ’s as fine a fleet as you ’d put to sea,
If you come to measure by steam and tons ;
But you see, my Lord, it’s no use to me,
If it ain’t got none of them blessed guns! ”
It was a rough old Admiral who spoke,
And then a muffled oath or two he swore.
The First Lord smiled. He recognised the joke.—
The French in force were threatening the Nore.
For war had on a sudden been declared,
And things had gone,—well, just a little wrong.
In fact Whitehall had not been quite prepared,
Although on paper they had come it strong.
The Channel somehow had been deftly cleared :
And now the sole force left, the foe to meet,
Was, as the evening papers truly “feared,”
These fifteen vessels of the Gunless Fleet!
And so the First Lord thought it out a bit.
“ Look here,” he cried. “Don’t fear. We’ll see you
through,
You ’ll have your ships all right and trim and fit;
And this is all, you know, you ’ll have to do.
“ Behind the Horse Guards—there, two guns you ’ll find ;
They mayn’t, perhaps, prove quite the proper sort—
But take ’em. Then a third I’ve in my mind,
At Margate, by the flagstaff on the Fort.
“ On Ramsgate pier you ’ll find a couple more.
If of their size you ’re going to complain,
Well, go to Mr. Harris. He’s a store,
And p’raps might lend you some from Drury Lane.
“If you want more, there ’s some cracked thirty-twos
They ’ll let you have, at Portsmouth, I ’ll be bound.
So, though if not quite up to modern views,
Your fleet in guns won’t be half badly found !
“ So set about your work without delay! ”
The Admiral responded, “ Yes, my Lord ! ”
And gloomily went on his darkened way,
And, in low spirits, got his guns on board.
They had but one a-piece. He shook his head
As he, in tears, surveyed the sorry sight:
And then he called his Captains, and he said,—
“ D ’you know, I think, we didn’t ought to fight.
“ But here’s my orders sealed.” He looked them o’er,
Then shook his head again. “ It’s all no go ! ”
He cried—“ we’ve got to stop ’em at the Nore !
So follow, Mates ; I’m off to meet the foe ! ”
Then they set sail. They hadn’t far to run
Before they met the foe, and did their worst,—
Which wasn’t much, for every British gun
That day, soon as they fired it, straightway burst.
And so the Frenchmen triumphed down the line,
Sank half the fleet, and took the rest in tow;
Sailed up the Thames, crushed Woolwich by a fine,
And with a shot or two laid Greenwich low.
And when the Times came out next day and moaned
In three long leaders o’er the “ base defeat,”
And let the First Lord have it hot, and groaned <
At his shortcomings with his “ Gunless Fleet; ”
Until it stirred the mob, who then and there,
Determined jobbery should have its fall,
Dragged the First Lord from his official chair,
And lynched him on a lamp-post in Whitehall.
Rough justice, p’raps—but still it served its turn ;
For to the Board the revelation came,
That this new lesson they might have to learn,—
That public trust was not a party game !
And since that day each First Lord has relied,
The chances of invasion to prevent,
On ships with proper ordnance supplied—•
And not on an “ Impromptu Armament! ”
Kj* NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will
in xio case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule
there will he no exception.