DOI Heft:
November 12, 1892
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17694#0230
November 12, 1892.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
225
THE MAN WHO WOULD.
I.—THE MAN WHO WOULD BE LAUREATE.
His name was Legion. He had kept his eye on the Laureateship
from his early boyhood, when he sent verses to the Poets' Corner
of the Bungay Weekly Mail, which sometimes published them ; then 1 Innocence completely moral
he cut them oat, and pasted them neatly in a book, which he still; Sweet Babe,
possesses. He always wrote on an occasion. "Lines on the He- They say,
covery of My Sister Emily from the Mumps"; "Dirge on the NauSh*™ymes to Babe,
Decease of a Favourite Squirrel," beginning', "No more!" but
there was always plenty more where that came from, and is still.
At College he was one of the three men who wrote in College
Rhymes, and secured for that periodical a circulation by taking a
walking. This had an enormous success among young newly-
married people, an enthusiastic class of the community. At recita-
tions you might hear—
Tootsy, wootsy, pooty sing,
Mammie's darling, icky thing!
Coral lips that fret the coral,
Save " astrolabe,"—■
And Tippoo Saib !
Oh, tiny face,
And tiny feet,
Oh, infant grace,
So incomplete,
Kiss me, my Sweet!
In any lay
In sequence to these effusions, Legion poured forth Ballades, and
Rondeaux, and wrote a Chant Royal on a General Election which
occupied a whole column of a newspaper, and needed three men to
hundred copies each. Legion sent dozens of his, marked, to every i read, with a boy for the " envoy." But this ditty was not thought
poet he heard of, generally addressing them "Dear Alured " (if to have seriously affected the voting classes in any direction. Legion
that was the Minstrel's Christian name), or, in verse, " Brother, my was now usually spoken of as "the versatile Mr. Legion," a corn-
Brother, my sweet, swift Brother ! " This annoyed some poets, who j pliment which never failed to annoy him hugely. Sated with
did not answer; others were good-natured, and would reply,— I popular applause, he turned into a vein of new poetry, and
"Dear Sir,—I have to acknowledge, with many thanks, your produced The Song of the Spud, which, his admirers averred
Cebren and Paris, and anticipate much pleasure from its j was "racy of the soil." A grand English Opera, on the Pil-
perusal." grimage of Orace, was performed, at immense expense, Legion
Legion kept all these letters in a book, and published some of I being the Librettist. It was patriotic, but not exactly popular,
them as advertisements of his Ce- Still, with all these claims on
bren and Paris (an unsuccessful his country, Legion lived in
Newdigate), when it appeared in a f \ A>^'!i|!!%0\Y,\ hopes which were wofully disap-
volume, with an astonishingly A&t&X /WlW "'1v<^\\ pointed; for, when his chance
decorative cover. It was a classi- Xl^/r f/1 \nK came at last' a ?rime Minister of
cal piece, in blank verse. Cebren, 7M)jfy - f/7'f :j \\ \ modern ideas declared that, as a
the father of (Enone, is represented f /AwU/rm / %<$A Laureate is not useful, he must
asking Paris what his intentions V\ j I '.miyMA \\\ • be ornamental. Now, neither
are as regards that lady. It was //\v ^7/ \ /Kvll I I Wl I -\)'/y Legion, nor any of his rivals,
a piece of classical genre, the i/\^ZJI \ L~v\' ,.\ i 1 Wi could be called decorative, what-
authorsaid: such interviews must y//W/^~WZ f/^'A \^]Z~M\ PwF/f ever they might have been in their
have occurred when a young W"/mw \ \if§l|/7? youth. They needed laurels, for
Trojan prince, with no particular ^^Ss^^^MstJ^ )SF$// tlie same reason as Julius Oesar.
expectations, paid marked atten- ^ The wreath was therefore offered
tions to the daughter of a River- ^7/frW^Z^^4iW^ SSfe^a (by a Plebiscite conducted in a
god, like Cebren. Here is a '^liiliilli^f^MUD^mSmi. newspaper) to the young Lady-poet
specimen piece— ' '/y/W'l | '^n^^K^m^^^m^, whose verses and photograph
«Now mark me, Paris." said the River- f / ' \ '^^^^^^^^k ^ f eateSf D?mbcr °f
votes; the Laureate, m every
god, [weeds,
Seated among the damp lush water- ' >\' / . i^^^ipl SflHHk case. to resign, on attaining her
His tresses crowned with crow's-foot,— \ ^^j^^mM -^Wlli^^MI^^ twenty-fifth birthday. Ihe beau-
" Mark my words, "V \^^^^^^^^^HW8^P^ tiful and accomplished Mrs. JlNG-
Thou dalliest with my daughter; what '^Z^^s. ^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^BS9|^^m LEY JONES triumphed in this truly
thine aim, <v ^^^^H^^^S^^^^^^^^^^s^Ba^^^li! modern competition, and her book
I ask, and crave an answer—great thy ^i^^^Mi^ iT /^^^^^MKmB£)^Bi | was rushed into a sale of two
biie, Zc^^^^^^H^^jj^fff^^^^^^^mWnj(H&b&® v hundred and fifty copies. After
I he lineage of renowned Laomedon. JWN^^^^K&Ml JP$My1 WmW^^M' this check the writing of poetry
Jhy sires have wedded goddesses ere ^^^mS^^^mM lllH9^Hc\v< ceased to attract male enterprise—
D 4 ui +i i +i it e t -^f^f^^^^jm^^"Wi I ^mI^^^ .TT^iiIaSfm^TP^ x^ to the extreme my of Publishers
uut wealthy though the House of lrov j tj ±i. v
maybe ^frfr -^P^fr^ ^ Reviewers; though the m ar-
Thy father has a monstrous family ^^^^^^^i^^^^^^^^^^^^^V^^^^^XVv^ ket for waste-paper received a
Daughters and sons as countless as the ?h°ek from which it never rallied.
rills wy^f/y/^^//^^^^^^^^^^» v^\\\ The youthful male population of
That Ida sends to be my tributaries. jLL*~+ England determined never to be-
What he can give thee, what thy pro- * come Poets, unless they were born
spects are,
What settlements thou art prepared to make,
If thou wouldst lead (Enone to the altar,
This would I know ; excuse an anxious sire! "
Then Paris murmured:—
Poets, a resolution on which, at
all times, a minority of the race had acted, with the best results.
"Notes and Paper."—There is a lot of "paper" about from
Walker—London." No, Mr. Johnnie Toole, Sir, not your
11
" paper," for your
House is crammed
and your "paper"
is at a premium.
But this par-
ticular Walker,
of Warwick
House, London,
" Honourable but vague,
Eemote, but honourable, my purpose is : "
And that great Kiver-god arose in flood,
Monstrous, and murmuring, and to the main.
He swept the works of men and oxen down,
And had not Paris climbed into a tree,
He ne'er had crossed the ocean; never seen
The fairest face that launched a thousand ships,
And burned the topless towers of Ilium. I ggn^g^'f orth""">3o
Some accused Legion of plagiarising the last line'and a half, ■ ciety Stationery"
which reminded them, they said, of Marlowe. But he replied that; — " which," as
great wits jump, that it was an accidental coincidence. The public, ; Mrs. Gamp would
which rarely cares much for poetry, was struck by Cebre?i and \ have said, " spel-
Paris. " There is in it," said the Parthenon, " an original music, | ling of it with an
and a chord is struck, reverberating from the prehistoric years,
which will find an answer in the heart of every father of a family."
The Clergy at large quoted Cebren and Paris in their charges
and sermons, and the work was a favourite prize at seminaries for
young ladies. Consequently all the other poets, whom nobody buys,
arose, and blasphemed Cebren and Paris in all the innumerable
a' instead of an
'e,' Society never
thCre^'T^^An- Mr- J- L- " Walker " Toole and " Full Company."
tique SocietyPaper," which should be a Society Paper as old as the
world itself, or it might be used by a Fossilised Fogey Club.
reviews. This greatly, and justly, added to the popularity of Walker & Co.'s new " Society Paper," whether antique or modern,
Legion's book. He followed it up by Idylls of the Nursery, a is pretty and quite harmless—till pen and ink are at work on it;
volume of exquisite pieces on infants as yet incapable of speaking or | and then-but that's another story.
225
THE MAN WHO WOULD.
I.—THE MAN WHO WOULD BE LAUREATE.
His name was Legion. He had kept his eye on the Laureateship
from his early boyhood, when he sent verses to the Poets' Corner
of the Bungay Weekly Mail, which sometimes published them ; then 1 Innocence completely moral
he cut them oat, and pasted them neatly in a book, which he still; Sweet Babe,
possesses. He always wrote on an occasion. "Lines on the He- They say,
covery of My Sister Emily from the Mumps"; "Dirge on the NauSh*™ymes to Babe,
Decease of a Favourite Squirrel," beginning', "No more!" but
there was always plenty more where that came from, and is still.
At College he was one of the three men who wrote in College
Rhymes, and secured for that periodical a circulation by taking a
walking. This had an enormous success among young newly-
married people, an enthusiastic class of the community. At recita-
tions you might hear—
Tootsy, wootsy, pooty sing,
Mammie's darling, icky thing!
Coral lips that fret the coral,
Save " astrolabe,"—■
And Tippoo Saib !
Oh, tiny face,
And tiny feet,
Oh, infant grace,
So incomplete,
Kiss me, my Sweet!
In any lay
In sequence to these effusions, Legion poured forth Ballades, and
Rondeaux, and wrote a Chant Royal on a General Election which
occupied a whole column of a newspaper, and needed three men to
hundred copies each. Legion sent dozens of his, marked, to every i read, with a boy for the " envoy." But this ditty was not thought
poet he heard of, generally addressing them "Dear Alured " (if to have seriously affected the voting classes in any direction. Legion
that was the Minstrel's Christian name), or, in verse, " Brother, my was now usually spoken of as "the versatile Mr. Legion," a corn-
Brother, my sweet, swift Brother ! " This annoyed some poets, who j pliment which never failed to annoy him hugely. Sated with
did not answer; others were good-natured, and would reply,— I popular applause, he turned into a vein of new poetry, and
"Dear Sir,—I have to acknowledge, with many thanks, your produced The Song of the Spud, which, his admirers averred
Cebren and Paris, and anticipate much pleasure from its j was "racy of the soil." A grand English Opera, on the Pil-
perusal." grimage of Orace, was performed, at immense expense, Legion
Legion kept all these letters in a book, and published some of I being the Librettist. It was patriotic, but not exactly popular,
them as advertisements of his Ce- Still, with all these claims on
bren and Paris (an unsuccessful his country, Legion lived in
Newdigate), when it appeared in a f \ A>^'!i|!!%0\Y,\ hopes which were wofully disap-
volume, with an astonishingly A&t&X /WlW "'1v<^\\ pointed; for, when his chance
decorative cover. It was a classi- Xl^/r f/1 \nK came at last' a ?rime Minister of
cal piece, in blank verse. Cebren, 7M)jfy - f/7'f :j \\ \ modern ideas declared that, as a
the father of (Enone, is represented f /AwU/rm / %<$A Laureate is not useful, he must
asking Paris what his intentions V\ j I '.miyMA \\\ • be ornamental. Now, neither
are as regards that lady. It was //\v ^7/ \ /Kvll I I Wl I -\)'/y Legion, nor any of his rivals,
a piece of classical genre, the i/\^ZJI \ L~v\' ,.\ i 1 Wi could be called decorative, what-
authorsaid: such interviews must y//W/^~WZ f/^'A \^]Z~M\ PwF/f ever they might have been in their
have occurred when a young W"/mw \ \if§l|/7? youth. They needed laurels, for
Trojan prince, with no particular ^^Ss^^^MstJ^ )SF$// tlie same reason as Julius Oesar.
expectations, paid marked atten- ^ The wreath was therefore offered
tions to the daughter of a River- ^7/frW^Z^^4iW^ SSfe^a (by a Plebiscite conducted in a
god, like Cebren. Here is a '^liiliilli^f^MUD^mSmi. newspaper) to the young Lady-poet
specimen piece— ' '/y/W'l | '^n^^K^m^^^m^, whose verses and photograph
«Now mark me, Paris." said the River- f / ' \ '^^^^^^^^k ^ f eateSf D?mbcr °f
votes; the Laureate, m every
god, [weeds,
Seated among the damp lush water- ' >\' / . i^^^ipl SflHHk case. to resign, on attaining her
His tresses crowned with crow's-foot,— \ ^^j^^mM -^Wlli^^MI^^ twenty-fifth birthday. Ihe beau-
" Mark my words, "V \^^^^^^^^^HW8^P^ tiful and accomplished Mrs. JlNG-
Thou dalliest with my daughter; what '^Z^^s. ^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^BS9|^^m LEY JONES triumphed in this truly
thine aim, <v ^^^^H^^^S^^^^^^^^^^s^Ba^^^li! modern competition, and her book
I ask, and crave an answer—great thy ^i^^^Mi^ iT /^^^^^MKmB£)^Bi | was rushed into a sale of two
biie, Zc^^^^^^H^^jj^fff^^^^^^^mWnj(H&b&® v hundred and fifty copies. After
I he lineage of renowned Laomedon. JWN^^^^K&Ml JP$My1 WmW^^M' this check the writing of poetry
Jhy sires have wedded goddesses ere ^^^mS^^^mM lllH9^Hc\v< ceased to attract male enterprise—
D 4 ui +i i +i it e t -^f^f^^^^jm^^"Wi I ^mI^^^ .TT^iiIaSfm^TP^ x^ to the extreme my of Publishers
uut wealthy though the House of lrov j tj ±i. v
maybe ^frfr -^P^fr^ ^ Reviewers; though the m ar-
Thy father has a monstrous family ^^^^^^^i^^^^^^^^^^^^^V^^^^^XVv^ ket for waste-paper received a
Daughters and sons as countless as the ?h°ek from which it never rallied.
rills wy^f/y/^^//^^^^^^^^^^» v^\\\ The youthful male population of
That Ida sends to be my tributaries. jLL*~+ England determined never to be-
What he can give thee, what thy pro- * come Poets, unless they were born
spects are,
What settlements thou art prepared to make,
If thou wouldst lead (Enone to the altar,
This would I know ; excuse an anxious sire! "
Then Paris murmured:—
Poets, a resolution on which, at
all times, a minority of the race had acted, with the best results.
"Notes and Paper."—There is a lot of "paper" about from
Walker—London." No, Mr. Johnnie Toole, Sir, not your
11
" paper," for your
House is crammed
and your "paper"
is at a premium.
But this par-
ticular Walker,
of Warwick
House, London,
" Honourable but vague,
Eemote, but honourable, my purpose is : "
And that great Kiver-god arose in flood,
Monstrous, and murmuring, and to the main.
He swept the works of men and oxen down,
And had not Paris climbed into a tree,
He ne'er had crossed the ocean; never seen
The fairest face that launched a thousand ships,
And burned the topless towers of Ilium. I ggn^g^'f orth""">3o
Some accused Legion of plagiarising the last line'and a half, ■ ciety Stationery"
which reminded them, they said, of Marlowe. But he replied that; — " which," as
great wits jump, that it was an accidental coincidence. The public, ; Mrs. Gamp would
which rarely cares much for poetry, was struck by Cebre?i and \ have said, " spel-
Paris. " There is in it," said the Parthenon, " an original music, | ling of it with an
and a chord is struck, reverberating from the prehistoric years,
which will find an answer in the heart of every father of a family."
The Clergy at large quoted Cebren and Paris in their charges
and sermons, and the work was a favourite prize at seminaries for
young ladies. Consequently all the other poets, whom nobody buys,
arose, and blasphemed Cebren and Paris in all the innumerable
a' instead of an
'e,' Society never
thCre^'T^^An- Mr- J- L- " Walker " Toole and " Full Company."
tique SocietyPaper," which should be a Society Paper as old as the
world itself, or it might be used by a Fossilised Fogey Club.
reviews. This greatly, and justly, added to the popularity of Walker & Co.'s new " Society Paper," whether antique or modern,
Legion's book. He followed it up by Idylls of the Nursery, a is pretty and quite harmless—till pen and ink are at work on it;
volume of exquisite pieces on infants as yet incapable of speaking or | and then-but that's another story.