Punch (99.1890)

October 11, 1890.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

169

MODERN TYPES.

{By Mr. Punch's own Type Writer.)
No. XX.-THE DIVORCEE.
The Court over which Sir James Hannen presides was instituted
for the purification of morals by the separation of ill-assorted
couples. Matrimonial errors, which had hitherto stood upon the
level of political grievances, capable of redress only after the careful
and unbiassed attention of British legislators had been, at much
expense both of time and money, devoted to them, were henceforth to
form the subjeot of a special procedure in a division of the Courts of
Law created for the purpose, and honestly calculated to bring sepa-
ration and divorce within the reach even of the most modest incomes.
The tyrant man, as usual, favoured himself by the rules he laid down
for the playing of the game. For whereas infidelity on the part of
the wife is held to be, in itself, a sufficient cause for pronouncing
a decree in favour of the husband, a kind, though constantly un-
faithful husband, is protected from divorce, and only punished by
separation from the wife he has wronged. It is necessary for a man
to add either cruelty or desertion to his other offence, in order that
his wife may obtain from the laws of her country the opportunity of
marrying someone else. But the wit of woman has proved equal to

the most fashionable quarter. Here she pondered for a short time upon
the doubtful unkindness of fate which had deprived her of a husband
whom she despised, and of a home which his presence had made
insupportable. But she soon roused herself to face her new lack of
responsibility, and to enjoy it. At first she moved cautiously. There
were numerous sympathisers who urged her to defy the world, such as
it is, and to show herself everywhere entirely careless of what people
might say. Such conduct might possibly have been successful, but
the Divorcee foresaw a possible risk to her reputation, and abstained.
She began, therefore, by making her public appearances infrequent.
In company with the devoted widow, whose evidence had almost
saved her from an adverse verdict, she arranged placid tea-parties
at which the casual observer might have imagined that the rules of
social decorum were more strictly enforced than in the household
of an archbishop. Inquiry, however, might have revealed the fact
that a large proportion of the ladies present at these gatherings had
either shaken off the matrimonial shackles, or proposed to do so,
whether as plaintiffs or as defendants, whenever a favourable
opportunity presented itself. The men, too, who were, after a time,
admitted to these staid feasts, were not altogether archiepiscopal,
though they behaved as they were dressed, quite irreproachably.
To counter-balance them to some extent, the Divorcee determined to
secure the presence and the oountenance of a clergyman.

the emergency. Nowhere, it may he safely stated, have more tales | After some search, she discovered one who was enthusiastic,

of purely imaginative atrocity been lis-
tened to with greater attention, or with
more favourable results, than in the
Divorce Court. On an incautious hand-
shake a sprained wrist and an arm
bruised into all the colours of the rain-
bow have been not infrequently grafted.
A British imprecation, and a hanged door,
have often become floods of invective and
a knock-down blow; and a molehill of a
pinch has, under favourable cultivation,
been developed into a mountain of ill-
treatment, on the top of which a victorious
wife has in the end, triumphantly planted
the banner of freedom.

Hence the Divorce Court, after some
years of suspicion, has gradually come to
be looked upon as one of the sacred insti-
tutions of the country. And, speaking
generally, those who make use of its
facilities, however much certain of the
more strait-laced may frown, are con-
sidered by society at large to have done
a thing which is surprisingly right and
often enviable. The result at any rate
is that the number of the divorced
increases year by year, and that a lady
whose failings have been established
against her by a judicial decree, may be
quite sure of a band of ardent sympa-

deficient in worldly knowledge, and sus
ceptible. To him Bhe related her own
private version of her wrongs, which
she seasoned with quite a pretty flow of
tears. The amiable cleric yielded without
a struggle, and readily placed at her
service the protection of his white tie.
Thus strengthened, she moved forward a
little further. She revisited theatres;
she was heard of at Clubs ; she shone
again at dinner-parties, and in a year or
so had organised for herself a social circle
which entirely satisfied her desires.
Sometimes she even allowed herself to
dabble in good works. She was accused
of havine written a religious poem for a
serious Magazine ; but all tbat was ever
proved against her was. that a remark-
able series of articles on The Homes of the
Poor bore traces of a Btjle that was said
to be hers. Evil tongues still whispered
in corners, and cynics were heard to scoff
occasionally; but the larger world, which
abhors cynics, and only believes what is
good, began to smile upon her. She did
not appear to value its smiles,—but they
were useful. "Whenever London tired
her,'she flitted to Paris, or to the Riviera,
or even to Egypt or Algiers. She sub-
scribed to charities, and acted in Amateur

thisers of both sexes, amongst whom Theatricals^ Finally, she married a

she can hold her head as high as her inclination prompts her
without exciting a larger number of spiteful comments than are
allotted to her immaculate and undecreed sisters. She may not
have been able to abide the question of the C ransel who cross-
examined her, but she is certainly free, even in a wider sense
than before. She may not, perhaps, stand on so lofty a social
pinnacle as the merely-separated lady whose husband still lives,
and to whose male friends the fact that she is practically husband-
less, and at the same time disabled from marriage, gives a delightful
sense both of zest and security. On the other hand, the separated
lady must be to a certain extent circumspect, lest she should place
a weapon for further punishment in the hands of her husband. But
to the Divorcee all things apparently, are permitted.

When she left the Court in which, to use her own words, "all
her budding hopes had been crushed by the triumph of injustice,"
the beautiful Divorcee (for in order to be truly typical the
Divorcee is necessarily beautiful) might have proceeded immediately
to plant them afresh in the old soil. The various gentlemen who
had sustained their reputation as men of honour by tampering
on her behalf and on their own, with the strict letter of the
truth, naturally felt that the boldness of their denials entitled
them to her lasting regard, and showed themselves ready to aid
her with their counsel. But, though she never ceased to protest
her innocence of all that had been laid to her charge and proved
against her, she was sufficiently sensible to give them to under-
stand that for a time, at least, her path in the world would be
easier if they ceased to accompany her. They accepted the sentence
of banishment with a good grace, knowing perfectly well that it was
not for long. The Divorcee then withdrew from the flaming placards
of the daily papers, on which she had figured during the paBt week,
and betook herself to the seclusion of her bijou residence in the heart of

gentleman who was believed by his friends to be a poet, and who
certainly qualified for the title by the romance he had woven about
her. With him she lived for many years a poetic and untrammelled
existence, and, when she died, many dowagers sent wreaths as
tokens of their sorrow at the loss of an admirable woman.

VERSES FOR A VIOLINIST.

" The violin has now fairly taken its place as an instrument for girls."

Daily News.

In old days of Art the painter much applause would surely win,
When he showed us Saint Cecilia playing on the violin.

I've no skill of brush and palette like those unforgotten men ;
My Cecilia must content herself with an unworthy pen.

Fairy fingers flash before me as the bow sweeps o'er each string ;
Like the organ's vox humana, Hark! the iostrument can sing.

That sonata of Taetini's in my ears will linger long;

It might be some prima donna scaling all the heights of song.

Every string a different language speaks beneath her skilful sway.
Does the shade of Pagantm hover over her to-day ?

All oan feel the passion throbbing through the music fraught with
pain:

Then, with feminine mutation, comes a soft and tender strain.

Gracious curve of neck, and fiddle tucked 'neath that entrancing
chin—

Fain with you would I change places, 0 thrice happy violin!

vot. XCTJ.