Punch: Punch (100.1891)

April 18, 1891.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

165

Helmer. May I ask how you are going to set about it ? and Nora, with a somewhat foolish expression, reappears.) What ?

Nora. Certainly. I shall begin—yes, I shall begin with a course back already! Then you are educated ?
of the Norwegian theatres. If that doesn't take the frivolity out of Nora {puts down dressing-bag). No, Tobvald, not yet. Only, you
me, I don't really know what will! see, I found I had only threepence-halfpenny in my purse, and the

[She gets her bonnet and ties it tightly, i Norwegian theatres are all closed at this hour—and so I thought I

Helmer. Then you are really going ? And you '11 never think
about me and the eggs any more! Oh, Noba !
Nora. Indeed, I snail, occasionally—as strangers.

wouldn't leave the cage till to-morrow—after breakfast.

Helmer {as if to himself). The greatest miracle of all has
happened. My little bird is not in the bush just yet

{She puts on a shawl sadly, and fetches her dressing-bag.) If IJ [Nora takes down a showily bound dictionary from the shelf and

ever do come back, the greatest miracle of all will have to happen
Good-bye ! [She goes out through the hall; the front-door is heard
to bang loudly.

Helmer {sinking on a chair). The room empty? Then she must
je gone! Yes, my little lark has flown! {The dull sound of an
unskilled latchkey is heard trying the lock; presently the door opens,

begins her education ; Helmes fetches a bag of macaroons,
sits near her, and tenders one humbly. A pause. Noba
repulses it, proudly. He offers it again. She snatches at
it suddenly, still without looking at him, and nibbles it
thoughtfully as Curtain falls.
The End {with Mr. Punch's apologies to the Master).

MODERN TYPES.

{By Mr. Punch's Own Type Writer.

wore as a stall-holder, and the photograph was in some mysterious
way engraved in all the illustrated papers of the following week.
Her name was enshrined in paragraphs, she was observed in the
Royal Enclosure at Ascot, she was introduced to a Royal personage
No. XXIV.—THE GIYER OF PARTIES. who was pleased to confer upon her the distinction of his smiles,

t v xl urn • .l « and to mention her to the select circle of his intimates as " a very

It may be that Party," in the sense of a hospitable entertain- pretty, pleasant little woman." And thus she was started upon the
ment, is an obsolete word, and that those who speak of "giving a thorny path of ambitious pleasure.

party ' prove themselves, by the mere expression, to be fogeys whom it is well known that the sacred fire of fashion burns—or is
the rushing stream of London amusements has long supposed to burn—in Belgravia alone. Its warmth drew

since thrown up on the sandy bank of middle age, ^\ her irresistibly. Bayswater became too cold to hold her, and

there to grow dull and forget that their legs were ever / V I early in the following year it was announced that a large

apt for the waltz, or their digestions able to cope with / M& house in the purlieus of Grosvenor Square had been purchased

lobster mayonnaise at 2 a.m. Yet, though he who thus yjms by her husband. However, she was content to climb by

speaks may not be as smart as a swell, or as much up % JJ«* degrees, and, in her first season of social brilliancy, she re-
to date as a church-parade-goer, the expression will JBfa stricted herself to a small and early dance, and a musical

serve, for it indicates comprehensively enough every J^f^x A> evening. At the dance, universal admiration was excited by

variety of entertainment known to the London Season j3c" - ^ the lavish profusion of the flowers with which her staircase
—the dance, the dinner, the reception, the music at jf' J-£ 'Jm, si was adorned, by the excellent quality of the

home, the tea-party, and the theatre-party, for all i^t^Mm^^W /£r\-fiV champagne, and the inexhaustible supply of
these in her benevolence does the Giver of Parties offer \M$sM fn oysters. At the musical evening the music

to us, and all these does she find the world of London || / ■^"■.■ry'A- was as admirably rendered as it was coin-

eager to accept. Now it would seem, one would ]|f 1 A 7=pa/ I pletely neglected. And at both parties only

imagine, to be the easiest thing in the world, ffin^m MW>- '; those people were present as to whose social

if only the money be not wanting, to give a _ y^Pj ^3§t 'tfTSfeK '^MW ■ status and absolute " Tightness " there could

party. A hostess, so someone may say, has ~ b*mW ^ ■'■ ftV ' €; be no question. Indeed the dancer, whose

but to invite her friends, to light her rooms, to Ml wW^fp, Mf ^] m foot had been trodden upon at the former,

spread her tables, to set the champagne flow- J J v// ?-J I \V ' might console herself with the thought that

mg, to order an awning, and to hire music 1 'J JfA 7 Ik , - none but a noble boot had caused her pain ;

and a lmkman, and the thing is done. The ^iPm \ i mfl ^W^mSib while at the latter the sounds of heavy

result of all this will no doubt be a party— Q • - J '' Jffi 1 j/jV ^J^NtJ breathing, which mingled inharmoniously
of a sort, but of a sort far different, however pr't/" W \\\\\ "3 f with Mile. Falsetti's bravura, were forgiven,

gorgeous it may be, from the splendid and ( 'J Ivy V / - in consideration of the exalted rank of their

widely-advertised gatherings which the genu- , %> '<§ ' A\\ 'jfaAm producer. Her success seemed now to be

ine Giver of Parties organises. For m the one %§fflk W \ CSSwi J assured, and even the muttered discontent of

variety it is just possible that enjoyment may <&> /^|TW' \ ^^\jW^^\h, * a neglected husband, who was foolish enough
be one of the main objects sought and at- v>» ™ I ■ ™ >W^~7 to prefer comfort to smartness, began to sub-

tained ; in the latter it is certain that enjoy- side. In the following year her entertain

ment, though it is not always absent, must yield the precedence to
social success and promotion in the scale of Society. These are the
objects that the Giver of Parties, as it is proposed to describe her,
has at heart, and to their attainment she devotes herself with a per-
sistent and all-embracing energy which no disappointment is capable
of daunting. The envy of her friends, the smiies and the presence
of Royalty, may be hers, but there is always some loftier height to
which she must climb before she can say to herself, " J'y suis,fy
reste," and be thankful.

Her life has known many changes. Her parents were county
people of good descent and position, but of a reduced income, for
which they apparently sought compensation in an increasing family,
mostly daughters. It was necessary that she should marry young,
and she submitted to necessity by accepting the proposal of a man
some ten years her senior, who had already come to be favourably
spoken off for the success of his commercial ventures. It is need-
less to add that all her relations took good care to impress upon her
mind the fact that the alliance was an honour to her husband, whose
wealth, even though it might in time rival that of the Rothschilds,
could never make him fit to be mentioned in the same breath with
one who numbered among her remoter ancestors a Baron, who had
fought and bled on many fields for King Charles the First.
However, the marriage took place in spite of the inequality of rank,
and the much-honoured husband bore his wife with him to London,
where for a time the modest comfort of a house in distant Bayswater
satisfied them. Business prospered, and money came pouring in.
The wife, who, it must he said, had undeniable beauty, excellent
manners, and the trick of intuitively adapting herself to any society,
was taken up by a great lady who happened to see her holding a
stall at a large bazaar in which the fashionable world took some
interest. Acting upon the great lady's suggestion, she was photo-
graphed in the becoming Tyrolese peasant's costume which she

ments became even more splendid, and less comfortable. She took
a house at Ascot, and, triumph of triumphs! a scion of Royalty
deigned to accept her hospitality.

After this, one would have supposed that she might have reposed
for a space. But the penalty of social life is its never-ending
necessity for movement. Jealous rivals abound to dispute a hardly-
won supremacy, and the least sign of faltering may involve extinc-
tion. Yet it must be said that she is kind to her own, even when
she is most brilliant. She brings out a daughter to be the delight
of young Guardsmen, and marries her to a widowed Peer ; she fur-
bishes up forgotten relations, and allows them to shine in the rays
of her glory ; she is charitable, after the manner of fancy fairs, and
the hospitality of her house becomes proverbial. But, in the midst
of all the bustle, the confusion, and the rattling turmoil of her
career, she sometimes sighs for the undistinguished ease of her life in
the pre-Royal days, sighs, and returns withfreshvigour to the struggle.

And so the pleasureless days of the pleasure-seeker follow one
another, each with its particular legacy of little strivings, until, at
the last, consolation may come from the thought that there is at least
one place where there are many mansions, but no social ambitions.

New Peater-Book Revision.—Several alterations will now have
to be made in the marriage service. If it be permissible for the
bride to omit her promise "to obey," as is reported to have been the
case at a wedding last week, why should any undertaking " to love,"
"to honour," "to cherish," and so forth remain in the text ? With
all this left out, a marriage, which, of course, will no longer be an
ecclesiastical rite, will hardly be a very civil ceremony. In course
of time all the promises will be made either explicitly or implicitly
conditional, the only question being what is the least possible obliga-
tion that can be incurred by both contracting parties at the smallest
possible expense.