Punch: Punch (97.1889)

November 23, 1889.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

241

“■HISTORY MADE EASY.”

Ip you pay a visit to Messrs. Agnew’s Gallery in Bond Street,
you will find that history is no longer a study, but a delightful
recreation. You will shake your fist at the dry historians, who
taught you in your youth with their
pens, and you will hail with joy the
accomplished gentlemen who instruct
you with their pencils in the present day.
“ The pencil speaks the tongue of every
land”—and there is no reason that it
should not relate the history of all na-
tions. When the pencil is wielded by
two such artists as Sir Ja'mes Linton
and Mr. James Orrock, history becomes
very pleasant indeed, and the recital of
the life of Mart Queen of Scots, most
delightful to experience. The principal
actors in the life of the unfortunate
Queen have been admirably depicted by
Sir James Linton, who has rarely done
anything better than the twelve por-
traits and the picture of the “ Abdica-
tion of Mary Queen of Scots.” Among
the portraits especially notable are the
“Earl of Moray,” “ Mary Seton,”
“ Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley and King of Scots,” “Mary
Stuart Queen of Scots,” and “ Mary Reton.” The scenery in
this eventful history has been conscientiously painted in over
a hundi-ed drawings by Mr. James Orroce:; “ Bolton Castle,”
“ Falkland Palace,” “Peterborough“Linlithgow Palace,”
“ Jedburgh Abbey,” “ Criffel from the Solway,” “Dunblane Cathe-
dral,” are among the many bright examples that will gladden the
eye of the lover of art and student of history. Altogether it is a
delightful exhibition. Sir James Linton and Mr. James Orrock,
have set a good example. It is to be hoped other teachers will follow
in their footsteps, for most people will prefer to learn'history from a
hundred good pictures than a dozen dry volumes.

MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC-HALL SONGS.

No. XII.—The Plaintively Pathetic.

A Music-hall audience will always be exceedingly susceptible to
Pathos—so long as they clearly understand that the song is not
intended to be of a comic nature. However, there is very little
danger of any misapprehension in the case of our present example,
which is as natural and affecting a little song as any that have been
moving the Music-Halls of late. The ultra-fastidious may possibly
be repelled by what they would term the vulgarity of the title,—
“ The Night-light Ever Burning by the Bed”—but, although it is
true that this humble luminary is now more generally called a
“ Fairy Lamp,” persons of true taste and refinement will prefer
the homely simplicity of its earlier name. The song only contains
three verses, which is the regulation allowance for Music-hall pathos,
the authors probably feeling that the audience could not stand any
more. It should be explained that the “tum-tum” at the end of
certain lines is not intended to be sung—it is merely an indication to
the orchestra to pinch their violins in a pizzicato manner. The
Singer should either come on as a serious Black Man—for burnt cork
is a marvellous provocative of Pathos—or as his ordinary self. In
either case he should wear evening dress, [with a large brilliant on
each hand.

THE NIGHT-LIGHT EVER BURNING BY THE BED.

First Verse,

I’ve been thinking of the home where my early years were spent,
’Neath the care of a kind maiden aunt, {Tum-tum-tum /)

And to go there once again has been often my intent,

But the fare is so expensive that I can’t! (Tutn-turn !)

Still I never can forget that night when last we met:

“ Oh, promise me—whate’er you do ! ” she said, {Tum-tum-tum !)
“ Wear flannel next your chest, and, when you go to rest,

Keep a night-light always burning by your bed ! ” {Turn-turn !)

Refrain {pianissimo).

And my eyes are dim and wet;

For I seem to hear them yet—

Those solemn words at parting that she said: {Tum-ta.va.-tum !)

“ Now, mind you burn a night-light,

—’Twill last until it’s quite light—

In a saueerful of water by your bed! ” (Turn-turn !)

Second Verse.

I promised as she wished, and her tears I gently dried,

As she gave me all the halfpence that she had : {Tum-tum-tum.')
And through the world e’er since I have wandered far and wide,

And been gradually going to the bad ! (Turn-turn.!)

Many a folly and a crime I’ve committed in my time,

For a lawless and a chequered life I’ve led ! {Tum-tum-tum.')
Still I’ve kept the promise sworn—flannel next my skin I’ve worn,
And I’ve always burnt a night-light by my bed 1 {Turn turn!)

Refrain.'

All unhallowed my pursuits,

(Oft to bed I’ve been in boots!)

Still o’er my uneasy slumber has been shed (Tum-tum-tum /)
The moderately bright light
Afforded by a night-light,

In a saucerful of water by my bed! {Turn-turn !)

Third Verse. {To'be sung ivith increasing solemnity.)

A little while ago, in a dream my aunt I saw ;

In her frill-surrounded night-cap there she stood!

{Tum-tum-tum J)

And I sought to hide my head ’neath the counterpane in awe,

And I trembled—for my conscience isn’t good ! {Tum-tum!)

But her countenance was mild—so indulgently she smiled
That I knew there was no further need for dread ! {Tum-tum-tum !)
She had seen the flannel vest enveloping my chest,

And. the night-light in its saucer by my bed ! {Turn-turn!)

Refrain {more pianissimo still).

But ere a word she spoke,

I unhappily awoke!

And away, alas ! the beauteous vision fled! (Tum-tum -tum !)

{In mournful recitation)—There was nothing but the slight light
Of the melancholy night-light
That was burning in a saucer by my bed! (ZWn-tum !)

WHAT MR. PUNCH’S MOON SAW.

TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING.

“Have you ever suffered from what the Germans call Katzen-
jammerf” asked the Moon the other evening,—“you remember

how I told you long ago about
the poor Ant who suffered from
a hopeless passion, which I at
first took for Welt - schmerz ?
Well, Katzenjammer is very
like TVelt-schmerz—only worse.
The sufferer creates all his
unhappiness himself, and no
tortures inflicted by other
people could possibly be more
cruelly ingenious. Not long
ago I saw an unfortunate man
who had Katzenjammer very
badly. I looked through his
window and saw him sitting
in a comfortable chair by a
cheerful fire; the room was
most luxuriously I furnished,
and I, who have to roll on all night in the cold blue sky with only
the stupid little stars for company, quite envied him as he sat there
in the warm firelight. But that was before I knew how terribly
unhappy he was. He was all alone: none of his friends had come
near him, he more than suspected that several of them had decided
to drop his acquaintance of late ; there was no one, no one in all the
world to care for him, which was most distressing. Then he looked
at his dog, which was lying stretched out on the hearth-rug. Even
the dog didn’t really love him ! No, he was certain of it. By way
of experiment he called to it softly—and the hardhearted animal
went on basking, with no response beyond a sleepy grunt! Ah, it
was selfish—like the rest of the world ; he was alone,—quite—quite
alone! And, as he realised this, the poor man leaned his head on
his hand and gave a heart-broken sigh, that awoke even the dog.
Discovering, by some mysterious instinct dogs have, that his master
was in low spirits and needed consolation, he rose and stretched
himself, and then came and laid his head on the man’s knee, looking
up into his face with eyes that spoke too plainly of honest affection
to render any further doubt possible.

“You would have fancied that the poor man would have been
comforted a little, would you not ?—but not at all! He turned
away his face with a heavy sigh—more miserable than ever. The
dog loved him—that was natural enough—but a dismal con viction
had just begun to oppress him, and it almost made him, strong man
as he was, cry when he thought of it, and yet it became more and
more clear every moment. He didn’t love the dog! Ah! this
Katzenjammer is' a terrible complaint, and it is only very rude and
unsympathetic persons who would mock at it,” said the. Moon, with
real feeling in her voice, and, as she spoke, a cloud hid her face,
and Mr. Punch saw no more of her that evening.

VOL, ICVII,

Y