Punch (102.1892)

194

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [April 23, 1892.

-nn-rooTTo " Yice is a monster of such hideous mien i From club-room to street-corner runs the cry

lHh rihW&bl JN AliblfcibUb ; ; As to be hated needs but to be seen." After the newest fact, or latest lie : [grasp,

Ok the Hero of Our Days. ^° sang the waspish satirist long ago. The hurrying throng unfolded broad-sheets

Now Yice is sketched and Crime is made a And read with goggled eves and lips a-gasp,

I"-The curious tendency towards imitation show. Blood! Blood! More Blood! It makes hot

which is observed whenever some specially sen- A hundred eager scribes are at their heel lips go pale, [tale,

sational crime is brought into the light;of'publicity." To tell the public how they look and feel, But gives the sweetest zest to the unholy

Morning fost.] How eat and drink, how sleep and smoke and
Narcissus ? He, that foul ill-favoured brute, play.
A fevered age's most repulsive fruit, Murder's itinerary for a day,

The murderous
coxcomb, the as-
sassin sleek ?

Stranger com-
parison could

What wonder if the Horror, homaged thus
By frenzied eagerness and foolish fuss,

t Swells to a hide

\\\ ititf mi

mil

fancy" seek? llMfflMiMfl W-r^:lWk^\WB ^ \ ! I M! Ill ! l!lM%

Truly'tis not the '{i^Mllll! >trfilt )| , J^Mfe.

self - admiring
boy

Nymph Echo
longed so vainly
to enjoy;

Yet the oid clas-
sic fable hath a
phase

Which seems to
fit the oppro-
brium of our
days.

Criminal-wor-
ship seems our
latest cult,

And this strange
figure is its last
result.

Self - conscious,
self - admiring,
Crime parades

Its loathly fea-
tures, not in
slumdom's sha-
des.

Or in Alsatian
sanctuariesvile.

No; peacock-pos-
ing and compla-
cent smile

Pervade the
common air, and
take the town.

The glory of a
scandalous re-
nown

Lures the vain
villain more
than wrath or
gain,

And cancels all

the shame that

should restrain:
Makes murder
I half - heroic in
, his sight,
And gilds the

gallows with

factitious light.

And whose the
fault ? Sensa-
tion it is thine!

The garrulous
paragraph, the
graphic line,

Poster and por-
trait, telegram
and tale,

Make shopboys
eager and domestics pale.

Oyer the morbid details workmen pore,

Toil's favourite pabulum and chosen lore,

Penny-a-liners pile the horrors up,

On which the cockney gobe-mouche\ove& to sup,

And paragraph and picture feed the clown

With the foul garb age _that has gorged the

**M/town.

ous self-impor-
tance, struts
In conscious dig-
nity, and gladly
gluts
With vanity's
fantastic tricks
the herd
Whose pulses
first by mur-
derous crime it
stirred.
Narcissus - like,
the slayer bends
to trace
Within Sensa-
tion's flowing
stream its face,
And, self - ena-
moured, smiles
a loathsome
smile

Of fatuous con-
ceit and gloat-
ing guile;
Laugns at the
shadow of the
lifted knife,
And thinks of
all things save
its victim's life.
The "Noisy
Nymph," the
Echo of our
times,

The gossip, with
an eager ear for
crimes,
Lurks, half-ad-
miring, all-re-
cording there,
Watching Nar-
cissus with per-
sistent stare,
And ready note-
book. Nothing
but a Yoice ?
No, but its bab-
blings travel,
and rejoice
A myriad pruri-
ent ears with
noisome news,
Fit only for the
shambles and
^the stews.
These hear,
admire, and
sometimes imi-
tate !—

Narcissus is a
danger to the
State,
And Echo hardly
less. Yain-glori-

—---—---— ous crime;

Set forth in graphic phrase by skilful pens, I That pestilent portent of a morbid time,
With pictures of its face, its favourite i Would flourish less could sense or law avail
dens, j To strangle coarse Sensation's clamorous

Its knife or bludgeon, pistol, paramour, tale,

Will swell the swift editions hour by Silence the "Noisy Nymph," for half

hour, crime's ill

More than high news of war or of debate, j Would end were babbling Echo's voice
The death of heroes or the throes of state but still.

THE MISSING CIPHER.'

*' On, Papa, only Fifty Pounds from Sir Gorgius Midas ! Such a Millionnaire—-why,

HE OUGHT to HAVE sent PlVE hundred pounds at LEAST i"

"An, I'm afraid he forgot the Ought, my dear!"