DOI Heft:
December 21, 1889
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17688#0296
December 21, 1889.] PUNCH, OP THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
291
THE DUKE’S LESSON.
Little Economic Tragi-Comedy [with a moral) now in
process of active Rehearsal.
ACT I.
Interior of a Study in a West-end Ducal Mansion after
breakfast during the progress of a recent noted
struggle between Capital and Labour. Enter a Phi-
lanthropic Duke and his Private Secretary.
Philanthropic Duke [after giving''directions for the dis-
posal of his daily correspondence). And now there remains
only this application for these labourers on strike.
Private Secretary. Your Grace would surely scarcely
like to see your name figuring on a list where it might
he supposed to countenance the insubordination of the
masses ?
Philanthropic Duke. Ah, no; there you mistake the
whole subject. _ My exalted position does not blind me
to the necessities and rights of my fellow men. Capital
can be a great tyrant, and Labour can only contend
against it with the weapon of combination.
Private Secretary. But is your Grace sure, in the
present instance, Labour has a practical grievance to
complain of ?
Philanthropic Duke. No, I confess I have not gone into
the rights and wrongs of this particular question; hut,
looking at the matter as a whole, I have a firm con-
viction that the movement of the masses to protect their
interests by combined action merits the support, practical
as well as moral, of all reasonable men. Send them a
cheque for fifty pounds.
Private Secretary. With your Grace’s name ?
Philanthropic Duke. Certainly. They are welcome
to any influence in may bring them.
Private Secretary. Very well, your Grace.
[ Writes cheque, and leaves Philanthropic Duke in
a state of complacent satisfaction that he at least
is “ marching with the times" as the Curtain
falls.
ACT II.
Interior of the Drawing-room of a West-end Ducal
Mansion during the arrival of guests invited to dinner.
A couple of night-lights on the mantel-piece supply
the sole illumination to the room. Philanthropic Duke
discovered standing on the rug with his back to a
feeble fire of kitchen chairs.
Philanthropic Duke [addressing guests). I am sorry to
give you such a dim and cold reception, but the last
ounce of petroleum has been used, and though we have
given three-and-sixpence a-piece for kerosene candles,
the Duchess tells me we have had at last to fall back
upon these night-lights, as you see, and I think we have
arrived at our last box. When that is finished, we shall
have nothing before us but impenetrable darkness.
[ Falls into a gloomy reverie.
The Duchess [brightly). I am afraid I must ask you
all to put up with such a cold dinner as we have been
able to secure from the ham-and-beef shop round the
corner—[murmurs),— owing to our inability to ^secure
any further fuel for the kitchen fire.
[ Enter Servant, with a coal-scuttle of broken bedroom
furniture, with which he replenishes the feeble
flame in the grate.
Philanthropic Duke. The kitchen fuel exhausted ?
Surely it cannot be! [Addressing the Servant.) Have
you used up all the balusters ?
Servant. We have, your Grace.
Philanthropic Duke. And pulled up, and surrep-
titiously purloined the wood pavement, as I directed, m
front of the house, both ways, for twenty yards ?
Servant. Yes, your Grace ; until the police objected.
We then utilised the dustbin, all the basement doors,
and managed to keep in up to luncheon with the nursery
toys, and a few of your Grace’s old walking-sticks, but
we are now breaking up the spare-guest bed-chamber
furniture, and when that is done, we shall have to com-
mence on the dining-room chairs, or the empty drawers
in the private bureau in your Grace’s study.
[A few revolver shots heard without.
Philanthropic Duke. Ha ! The Postman, in the un-
lighted streets, again set upon by gangs of marauding
tramps. (Enter Secretary with a letter. Duke address-
ing him.) Well. Let us hear what it is ?
WHAT OUR ARTIST HAS TO PUT UP WITH.
[He has kindly painted in the Sky of an Amateur Friend's Sea-piece.)
Distinguished Critic. “The Sea’s capital, my dear Fellow; but the
Sky’s—well—amateurish, you know!”_
Secretary [referring to contents). Only an application for a subscription in
support of the present Strike.
Philanthropic Duke [hysterically). What? Have they had the impudence-?
Secretary. You see your Grace lent the influence of your name to support the
last movement, and as your Grace also expressed your conviction that the com-
bination of labourers to protect their interests, ‘ ‘ merited the support, practical, as
well as moral, of all reasonable men,” I thought, perhaps, that another cheque-
Philanthropic Duke [seizing it, and tearing it into a thousand. bits). You
did? Well—that is how I subscribe to the struggle of Labour against Capital
this time [scatters the fragments), at any rate. It may be that months of this
are before us, and that I am, even now, entertaining my guests with the illu-
mination of my two last night-lights. Be it so. If I have had my lesson,
and it has been a sharp one, I am determined that it shall not have been
entirely in vain ! You will find me no more “ marching with the times.”
\_Left facing the solution of the “ economic situation,” with a smile of gloomy
triumph on his countenance, as Curtain descends.
A Hint to Reeders.—The German Reed’s Entertainment is now “with
Verger clad.” The Verger has plenty of pretty music, and is well put on the
stage, but The Verger scarcely verges on the brilliant successes associated with
the Gallery of Illustration, St. George’s Hall. In the principal part Mr. Alfred
Reed is amusing, although the rule is not quite in Bis line. Miss Tully and
Mrs. Arthur Law again are pleasing. Mr. Cornet Grain, who gives an
account of how he took a house, is as genial and entertaining as ever, and takes
the House every night. As his fund of humour is limitless, it is safe to predict
that the new song he announces for Boxing Day will be quite as welcome as any
of its predecessors, at least, so thinks Your Gallery Reporter.
EPIGRAM ON THE EPIDEMIC.
Strictly Confidential.—To H.I.M. The Emperor of RUS3IA. “ All Europe
dreads your Russian Influence, Czar.” (Signed) Russ IN Urbe.
291
THE DUKE’S LESSON.
Little Economic Tragi-Comedy [with a moral) now in
process of active Rehearsal.
ACT I.
Interior of a Study in a West-end Ducal Mansion after
breakfast during the progress of a recent noted
struggle between Capital and Labour. Enter a Phi-
lanthropic Duke and his Private Secretary.
Philanthropic Duke [after giving''directions for the dis-
posal of his daily correspondence). And now there remains
only this application for these labourers on strike.
Private Secretary. Your Grace would surely scarcely
like to see your name figuring on a list where it might
he supposed to countenance the insubordination of the
masses ?
Philanthropic Duke. Ah, no; there you mistake the
whole subject. _ My exalted position does not blind me
to the necessities and rights of my fellow men. Capital
can be a great tyrant, and Labour can only contend
against it with the weapon of combination.
Private Secretary. But is your Grace sure, in the
present instance, Labour has a practical grievance to
complain of ?
Philanthropic Duke. No, I confess I have not gone into
the rights and wrongs of this particular question; hut,
looking at the matter as a whole, I have a firm con-
viction that the movement of the masses to protect their
interests by combined action merits the support, practical
as well as moral, of all reasonable men. Send them a
cheque for fifty pounds.
Private Secretary. With your Grace’s name ?
Philanthropic Duke. Certainly. They are welcome
to any influence in may bring them.
Private Secretary. Very well, your Grace.
[ Writes cheque, and leaves Philanthropic Duke in
a state of complacent satisfaction that he at least
is “ marching with the times" as the Curtain
falls.
ACT II.
Interior of the Drawing-room of a West-end Ducal
Mansion during the arrival of guests invited to dinner.
A couple of night-lights on the mantel-piece supply
the sole illumination to the room. Philanthropic Duke
discovered standing on the rug with his back to a
feeble fire of kitchen chairs.
Philanthropic Duke [addressing guests). I am sorry to
give you such a dim and cold reception, but the last
ounce of petroleum has been used, and though we have
given three-and-sixpence a-piece for kerosene candles,
the Duchess tells me we have had at last to fall back
upon these night-lights, as you see, and I think we have
arrived at our last box. When that is finished, we shall
have nothing before us but impenetrable darkness.
[ Falls into a gloomy reverie.
The Duchess [brightly). I am afraid I must ask you
all to put up with such a cold dinner as we have been
able to secure from the ham-and-beef shop round the
corner—[murmurs),— owing to our inability to ^secure
any further fuel for the kitchen fire.
[ Enter Servant, with a coal-scuttle of broken bedroom
furniture, with which he replenishes the feeble
flame in the grate.
Philanthropic Duke. The kitchen fuel exhausted ?
Surely it cannot be! [Addressing the Servant.) Have
you used up all the balusters ?
Servant. We have, your Grace.
Philanthropic Duke. And pulled up, and surrep-
titiously purloined the wood pavement, as I directed, m
front of the house, both ways, for twenty yards ?
Servant. Yes, your Grace ; until the police objected.
We then utilised the dustbin, all the basement doors,
and managed to keep in up to luncheon with the nursery
toys, and a few of your Grace’s old walking-sticks, but
we are now breaking up the spare-guest bed-chamber
furniture, and when that is done, we shall have to com-
mence on the dining-room chairs, or the empty drawers
in the private bureau in your Grace’s study.
[A few revolver shots heard without.
Philanthropic Duke. Ha ! The Postman, in the un-
lighted streets, again set upon by gangs of marauding
tramps. (Enter Secretary with a letter. Duke address-
ing him.) Well. Let us hear what it is ?
WHAT OUR ARTIST HAS TO PUT UP WITH.
[He has kindly painted in the Sky of an Amateur Friend's Sea-piece.)
Distinguished Critic. “The Sea’s capital, my dear Fellow; but the
Sky’s—well—amateurish, you know!”_
Secretary [referring to contents). Only an application for a subscription in
support of the present Strike.
Philanthropic Duke [hysterically). What? Have they had the impudence-?
Secretary. You see your Grace lent the influence of your name to support the
last movement, and as your Grace also expressed your conviction that the com-
bination of labourers to protect their interests, ‘ ‘ merited the support, practical, as
well as moral, of all reasonable men,” I thought, perhaps, that another cheque-
Philanthropic Duke [seizing it, and tearing it into a thousand. bits). You
did? Well—that is how I subscribe to the struggle of Labour against Capital
this time [scatters the fragments), at any rate. It may be that months of this
are before us, and that I am, even now, entertaining my guests with the illu-
mination of my two last night-lights. Be it so. If I have had my lesson,
and it has been a sharp one, I am determined that it shall not have been
entirely in vain ! You will find me no more “ marching with the times.”
\_Left facing the solution of the “ economic situation,” with a smile of gloomy
triumph on his countenance, as Curtain descends.
A Hint to Reeders.—The German Reed’s Entertainment is now “with
Verger clad.” The Verger has plenty of pretty music, and is well put on the
stage, but The Verger scarcely verges on the brilliant successes associated with
the Gallery of Illustration, St. George’s Hall. In the principal part Mr. Alfred
Reed is amusing, although the rule is not quite in Bis line. Miss Tully and
Mrs. Arthur Law again are pleasing. Mr. Cornet Grain, who gives an
account of how he took a house, is as genial and entertaining as ever, and takes
the House every night. As his fund of humour is limitless, it is safe to predict
that the new song he announces for Boxing Day will be quite as welcome as any
of its predecessors, at least, so thinks Your Gallery Reporter.
EPIGRAM ON THE EPIDEMIC.
Strictly Confidential.—To H.I.M. The Emperor of RUS3IA. “ All Europe
dreads your Russian Influence, Czar.” (Signed) Russ IN Urbe.