RETIREMENT; OR, THE EASY CHAIRRETIREMENT; OR, THE EASY CHAIR.Mr. P."WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO READ YOU LAST NIGHT'S DEBATE, SIR?"Rt. Hon. Arthur Welleslee Peel(drowsily). "ORDER! ORDER!!"["The original arrangement that Mr.Peelshall retire on the eve of the Easter holidays still holds good."—Times, March 16.
RETIREMENT; OR, THE EASY CHAIR.
Mr. P."WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO READ YOU LAST NIGHT'S DEBATE, SIR?"
Rt. Hon. Arthur Welleslee Peel(drowsily). "ORDER! ORDER!!"
["The original arrangement that Mr.Peelshall retire on the eve of the Easter holidays still holds good."—Times, March 16.
Well, how did the New Play go off last night"Well, how did the New Play go off last night?""Oh, there was a Sleep-walking Scene in the Third Act that was rather effective.""À la Lady Macbeth, eh?""Well—not exactly. It was the Audience that got up in its Sleep and walked out!"
"Well, how did the New Play go off last night?"
"Oh, there was a Sleep-walking Scene in the Third Act that was rather effective."
"À la Lady Macbeth, eh?"
"Well—not exactly. It was the Audience that got up in its Sleep and walked out!"
TO A FLIRTGIRL.
A Poem of Platitude.
Yes, girls will be girls, and flirts will be flirts,And coquette to the end of the chapter!"There's safety in numbers," the proverb asserts,And I'm sure that no saw could he apter.The safety, I fear, is thatDickwill fight shy,When he hears that you're flirting withHarry;AndHarrywill think, when you'veTomin your eye,That you're safer to flirt with than marry!Nay, then you don't rest till you'veJackat your feet,Till he finds that he'sWillyfor rival;The odds are that both, like the rest, will retreat,And at last there'll benoone's survival.For flirting's a game that is risky to play,At least from the standpoint of wedlock;When each is afraid your affection will strayTo some other, the end is a deadlock!
Yes, girls will be girls, and flirts will be flirts,And coquette to the end of the chapter!"There's safety in numbers," the proverb asserts,And I'm sure that no saw could he apter.
The safety, I fear, is thatDickwill fight shy,When he hears that you're flirting withHarry;AndHarrywill think, when you'veTomin your eye,That you're safer to flirt with than marry!
Nay, then you don't rest till you'veJackat your feet,Till he finds that he'sWillyfor rival;The odds are that both, like the rest, will retreat,And at last there'll benoone's survival.
For flirting's a game that is risky to play,At least from the standpoint of wedlock;When each is afraid your affection will strayTo some other, the end is a deadlock!
The Boot War.—"In consequence of the strike," observed Mrs. R., "I am afraid a great many hardworking men will be left with boots on their hands."
CHECK!
"We air governed too much."—Artemus Ward.
"We air governed too much."—Artemus Ward.
No! The old spirit is not dead,Though long it, trance-like, slept,While Peter Putright reared his head,And venom'd vigil kept.Their despot yearnings retrogradeOur tyrants label "Progress";In specious robes of light array'dThey hide a horrid Ogress;And many simple souls and trueBy guile seduced to err,Or fondly trusting something new,Fell down and worshipp'd her.And o'er their prostrate senses roll'dA monstrous idol car,Whose priests, in frenzy uncontroll'd,Still know not where they are.The doughtier freeman of the pastWith wrath such bondage sees;Who freedom won with pike and gunFrom nobler foes than these.Some bygone champions' pow'r benignOur waning strength restores;They forced from kings what we'd resignTo County Councillors.The heirs of those who won our rightInherit such a soulThey'd starkly fight by day and night,But quite neglect to poll.And so, in Law and Order's dayThe brazen crew intrudes,And London nigh becomes the preyOf pedants, prigs, and prudes.But lo! the slip 'twixt cup and lipHas made their glory dimmer;Down, down goes the dictatorshipOfStigginsand ofTrimmer.And threaten'd London joys to findThe Incubus o'erthrown,The gang whose mandate 'tis to mindAll business but their own.With "shoulders to the wheel" alway,The grannies in a batchCan suck such comfort as they mayFrom eggs they must not hatch.
No! The old spirit is not dead,Though long it, trance-like, slept,While Peter Putright reared his head,And venom'd vigil kept.
Their despot yearnings retrogradeOur tyrants label "Progress";In specious robes of light array'dThey hide a horrid Ogress;
And many simple souls and trueBy guile seduced to err,Or fondly trusting something new,Fell down and worshipp'd her.
And o'er their prostrate senses roll'dA monstrous idol car,Whose priests, in frenzy uncontroll'd,Still know not where they are.
The doughtier freeman of the pastWith wrath such bondage sees;Who freedom won with pike and gunFrom nobler foes than these.
Some bygone champions' pow'r benignOur waning strength restores;They forced from kings what we'd resignTo County Councillors.
The heirs of those who won our rightInherit such a soulThey'd starkly fight by day and night,But quite neglect to poll.
And so, in Law and Order's dayThe brazen crew intrudes,And London nigh becomes the preyOf pedants, prigs, and prudes.
But lo! the slip 'twixt cup and lipHas made their glory dimmer;Down, down goes the dictatorshipOfStigginsand ofTrimmer.
And threaten'd London joys to findThe Incubus o'erthrown,The gang whose mandate 'tis to mindAll business but their own.
With "shoulders to the wheel" alway,The grannies in a batchCan suck such comfort as they mayFrom eggs they must not hatch.
A Suggestion for Improving the Stage.—M. Coquelinfor having played truant—not an absolutely new part for him—from the House ofMolièrehas been condemned by the Court of Appeal to pay five hundred francs every time he performs away from the Comédie Française. This may, or may not, be hard onM. Coquelin, an artist whose absence from the stage would be much deplored: but could not there be, in England, some Court of Public Appeal, empowered to condemn an actor or two,notartists likeM. Coquelin, in similar penalties for appearing at all? Great opportunity for a new court and new procedure. Witnesses for prosecution from stalls, dress circle, gallery, pit, upper boxes. Witnesses to be heard in defence of course also; and let the best evidence win.
A Good Bank Note.—After the recent meeting of the gentlemen who manage the affairs of The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street, the Bank of England may now be considered not as a bank which may be of sand or mud, but as a rock, and as firm. The Baring Straits having been safely passed, the look-out man cries, "All's well that ends well!"
The Highly-rouged Lady's Claim To Literary Distinction.—That she is well-read.
ANIMAL SPIRITS"ANIMAL SPIRITS."No. VIII.—After the Influenza.
"ANIMAL SPIRITS."
No. VIII.—After the Influenza.
LETTERS FROM THE SHADES.
Have just perused report of Commission on Library Wall-flowers. Appears that enterprising book-shop, resort of fashionable world for past century, has sent round urgent whip to Representative Men of Letters (and also Mr.Le Gallienne) asking for short list of best neglected books. Find that answers cover fairly wide ground, fromHomerto New English Dictionary. Feeling that it might please general public to have some expression of opinion from various defunct authors described with faint praise as undeservedly neglected, and finding it inconvenient to arrange personal interview, by reason of distance and other difficulties, have sent out circular requesting that they would interview themselves on the subject and kindly let me have result. Some answered evasively through secretaries. Subj in small assortment from letters of those who responded frankly:—
Homer obliges with a few Hexameters.
Lo! in the hollows of Hades I hear the lamenting ofLubbock,Bart., who declares thatHomerus(or somebody else of the same name,One or the other, or both, or perhaps a collection of poets)—Lubbock, I say, who declares that the sale of my poems is paltry,Says he is sorry to see me reduced to the state of a wall-flower!But as a matter of fact I have got an immense circulation,Chiefly in Oxford and Cambridge and Eton and otherpalæstræ.Sophoclespushes me close, butPindaris out of the running,Being a bit too stiff, though the cost is defrayed by the parents.As for the rest, I considerHerodotusvery deserving;Quaintly enough at this moment I see he is writing about me,Writing to say he considersHomerusexceedingly clever.Who, by the way, is a Mr.Le Gallienne? He, as they tell me,Prattles a lot on his private affairs for the good of the public.
Lo! in the hollows of Hades I hear the lamenting ofLubbock,Bart., who declares thatHomerus(or somebody else of the same name,One or the other, or both, or perhaps a collection of poets)—Lubbock, I say, who declares that the sale of my poems is paltry,Says he is sorry to see me reduced to the state of a wall-flower!But as a matter of fact I have got an immense circulation,Chiefly in Oxford and Cambridge and Eton and otherpalæstræ.Sophoclespushes me close, butPindaris out of the running,Being a bit too stiff, though the cost is defrayed by the parents.As for the rest, I considerHerodotusvery deserving;Quaintly enough at this moment I see he is writing about me,Writing to say he considersHomerusexceedingly clever.Who, by the way, is a Mr.Le Gallienne? He, as they tell me,Prattles a lot on his private affairs for the good of the public.
Herodotus forwards a trifling Brochure.
To me for my part it appears that of the other poets, both those before and after, no one, as the saying is, can hold a two-penny torch toHomerus. He, in the language of the Far-Western people, whips cosmos. But of those that write things not to be mentioned, no Then Man dwelling in the nether world can surpass the Now Woman. So at least they that are over the book-market tell me; but them I cannot easily believe. Further, to speak of such as collect history, but, being unworthy indeed of neglect do yet escape the notice of those that appoint to office, I give the front row to Mr.Oscar Browning.
Shakspeare sends an occasional Sonnet.
Had I survived my well-contented ageAnd lived to see the bettering of the times,And witnessedHenry Arthuron the stage,Or read the latest confidential rhymes;Small marvel were it that my tragic artShould lapse among a race of larger build;Or that the sonnet-echoes of my heartShould fail before the booming Bodley guild.Yet have I lovers still, a faithful few;And here I take occasion for observingHow greatly I have been indebted toThe Cambridge Locals and to Mr.Irving.Post-script.—The TempleShakspearefor the pocketIs selling now; I know of none to knock it.
Had I survived my well-contented ageAnd lived to see the bettering of the times,And witnessedHenry Arthuron the stage,Or read the latest confidential rhymes;
Small marvel were it that my tragic artShould lapse among a race of larger build;Or that the sonnet-echoes of my heartShould fail before the booming Bodley guild.
Yet have I lovers still, a faithful few;And here I take occasion for observingHow greatly I have been indebted toThe Cambridge Locals and to Mr.Irving.
Post-script.—The TempleShakspearefor the pocketIs selling now; I know of none to knock it.
Lord Verulam kindly quotes himself.
You shall not ask better from me than that I should distil you these two extracts from my Standard Essays, amended to date.
1.Of Studies.—Reading, and namely of the kitchen ware ofAutolycus, maketh a full man; reviewing maketh a puffy man; and myNew Organ,now old and strangely unpopular, maketh an harmonious man.
2.Of Gardens.—Very delightful for sweetness is the Wallflower; likewise the Bonny Briar-Patch. But of those flowers such as the Aster and the Carnation, of which the perfume is such that they are best trodden upon and bruised, there is yet another that you shall take heed of. It is the Sweet Earl Lavender. You shall pass by a whole alley of them and find nothing of their sweetness: they are like precocious odours, most desirable when incensed or crushed.
Sortes Shakspearianæ.
Shakspearein the Commons—
"God speed the Parliament! Who shall be the Speaker?"Henry the Sixth,Part I., Act iii., Sc. 2.
A Forgotten Melody.—A once popular negro song that might come in as a chorus if Mr.Bannermandoesnotaccept the Speakership, is to the tune of "Old Bob Ridley, O!" and could be evidently neatly adapted to "O White Ridley, O!"
SITTING ON HIMSITTING ON HIM.Mr. Slowman Sopht."Oh come, I say, Miss Mawy, you on Foot? Why, if Hounds run, a Fellah'll never see you again all day!"Miss Mary."Dear, dear, how trying it is! Because, you know, whenI rideand Hounds run, I never seem to seeYouagain all day!"
SITTING ON HIM.
Mr. Slowman Sopht."Oh come, I say, Miss Mawy, you on Foot? Why, if Hounds run, a Fellah'll never see you again all day!"
Miss Mary."Dear, dear, how trying it is! Because, you know, whenI rideand Hounds run, I never seem to seeYouagain all day!"
AWFUL REVELATIONS!
[Mr.Leslie Stephen, speaking at Toynbee Hall the other day, stated that the members of the Athenæum had deserted the classics for the pages ofPunchand the latest French novel.]
[Mr.Leslie Stephen, speaking at Toynbee Hall the other day, stated that the members of the Athenæum had deserted the classics for the pages ofPunchand the latest French novel.]
Scene—The Library of a well-known Club, where are discovered a few Bishops, Judges, M.P.'s, and other persons "distinguished in literature or art."
Scene—The Library of a well-known Club, where are discovered a few Bishops, Judges, M.P.'s, and other persons "distinguished in literature or art."
Academician(chuckling overMarcel Prévost'slatest audacity, toM.P.,who is puzzling out the "Journal du prince" inDaudet's"La Petite Paroisse"). I say, old man, lend me your pocket dictionary for a moment, will you?
M.P.Certainly; only it doesn't give half the words. (Sighs, aside.) Why didn't I learn more French at Eton! Thesemœurs conjugalesbeat me every now and then at the most interesting point!
A Professor of Metaphysics(who has concealedJ. H. Rosny's"Renouveau" behind a file of the "Times," and is sitting onLavedan's"Les Marionettes," to himself). I really cannot go home till I have cleared up the relations betweenChagnyandMadame d'Argonne!
A Judge(caught reading "Le Mariage de Chiffon" by a Bishop, apologetically). Ah, I find my French gets rusty without systematic daily practice. Why, would you believe it, I found yesterday I had forgotten whaten goguettesmeant!
Bishop.Ahem, I believe it is a synonym foren ribote, with nearly the vulgar connotation ofgrisorsoul—tipsy, you know! (Hastily, toWaiter,aware that he has displayed a rather too close acquaintance with Gallic slang.) Kindly fetch me to-day's number ofPunch.
Waiter.They are all engaged, my Lord.
Bishop.Then let me look at last week's issue again.
Head Master of Public School(dubiously). Dare I be seen withMadame Chrysanthème?(Noticing that all the quiet corners are occupied with students of French literature.) No—another time!
Leading Novelist.Here'sLeslie Stephenbeen betraying us! He says, what is only too true, that we've abandoned the standard authors, including myself, forPunch!
Cabinet Minister(as a deus ex machinâ). Well,Mr. PunchISa classic. To read him is a liberal education!
[They do so, with a general sigh of relief.
ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
House of Commons, Monday Night, March 11.—A great cloud fallen over House to-day. Soon the stately presence that fills the Chair will step forth, never to return. The sonorous voice that can still the storm in its angriest mood will no more resound through the hushed Chamber. The best Speaker the House of Commons in its long history has known, will be merged in the mediocrity of the House of Lords. A hard succession of blows to fall on an assembly. First Mr. G., thenGrandolph, and nowArthur Peel, three men of wholly varied type, each unique, in his way reaching the highest level.
Suppose we shall get along somehow, though for all concerned in business of House, in maintaining its usefulness and supporting its dignity, the future withoutPeelin the Chair not to be regarded without foreboding. He has every quality and gift that go to make the ideal Speaker. A noble presence, a fine voice, a courtly manner, a resolute will, a full knowledge of the forms of the House, a keen though decently suppressed sense of humour—a scholar and a gentleman. These things are seen and recognised from outside. Only those who live and work in the House of Commons know how marvellous is the combination, how infinite in its magnitude the loss impending.
Tuesday.—Talk to-night all about successor to theSpeaker. A dozen names mentioned; general conclusion that whoever may be selected, he's not to be envied. The Member forSark, turning up to-night for first time this Session, brings strange news. Has been on the Riviera, daily expecting influenza. Saw Mr. G. yesterday; the talk at Cap Martin, as here, all about the soon-to-be emptied Chair, and who is to fill it.Sarktells me he is quite certain Mr. G. is thinking of coming forward as candidate; is (soSarksays, and he is a most reliable person) evidently eating out his heart in voluntary retirement. Now he's got his Psalter out, doesn't know what to do next.
"I asked him,"Sarksays, "whether there was any precedent for an ex-Prime Minister, however young in years and untamed in energy, becoming Speaker."
"Not exactly," he said; "but there is the case of a Speaker whobecame Prime Minister.Addington, you will remember, Speaker in 1789, was Premier at the turn of the century. It was said of him, by the way, that he never quite overcame the force of old habits. When engaged with the Cabinet in consideration of foreign affairs he had difficulty in refraining from saying 'The French to the right, the Austrians to the left.' Don't see why the case shouldn't be taken the other way about, and an ex-Premier become Speaker. Fancy I may take it that I have some qualifications for the post. Know the House pretty intimately; have been familiar with it for some years. Am told I never looked so picturesque as when, on public occasions, I wore official gown of Chancellor of Exchequer. Think the Speaker's dress would suit me. But that a mere trifle. What I hanker after, at my time of life, at the close of a career not absolutely free from hard work, is some post not too arduous. Seems to me the Speakership would be the very thing; just enough to do, and not too much."
disguised in Speaker's wig and gownMr. G.(disguised in Speaker's wig and gown). "Rather fancy the costume would suit me down to the ground!"
Mr. G.(disguised in Speaker's wig and gown). "Rather fancy the costume would suit me down to the ground!"
If it had been anyone butSarkhad said this, would have listened with incredulity. ButSarkmost respectable man.
Business done.—Robertsonin excellent speech explained Navy Estimates.
Thursday.—The Silence ofSilomio. No, it's not the title of a novel. You're thinking of the late DeanMaitland. This quite another story; equally tragic. Came about this way. House met to deal with Army Estimates.Cawmel-Bannermanin his place, after ten days in his bedroom with a cold. The cold must have had most amusing companion, that is ifCawmelwas as pawky with it as he was to-night with the semi-military horde led by PrivateHanbury, who swooped down and barred approach to Committee, These deployed in the open; placed their amendments on the paper. House knew what to expect. Never suspectedSilomioin ambush.
As soon as questions over, plot disclosed.Cochrane, a harmless, perhaps necessary, man, put up to move adjournment, in order to discuss the Swazi question. That in itself a stroke of genius. HadSilomiopersonally moved, game would have seemed too stale. Probability is forty Members not been found to stand up in support of motion. Looks much better to have such action taken on one side of House and supported from the other; invests it with air of impartiality and unanimity. On challenge from theSpeaker, Conservatives rose in body to supportCochrane'srequest. Having secured that object, and being on their legs, they strolled out, leavingSquire of Malwood,Sydney Buxton, and about a score of others all told, to listen toCochrane'surgent message. Amongst them satFrank Lockwood, with tender gleam in eyes that roamed with curious intentness about Speaker's chair.
WhilstCochranespoke,Silomiosat with inspired look on his face, making voluminous notes. He would come on by-and-by. Let others keep the thing going as long as possible; just when hapless Ministers thought it was over, and they might get to business, they should hear a well-known war-whoop; should discoverSilomioat the table, in for a good hour's speech. Meanwhile he sat piling notes upon notes, pausing occasionally to cheerCochrane, anon humming softly to himself
"Swaziland, my Swaziland!"
Our Artist"—Sir Frank Blockwood"Our Artist"—Sir Frank Blockwood, Q.C., M.P.
"Our Artist"—Sir Frank Blockwood, Q.C., M.P.
Under Secretary for Coloniesdeprecated in public interest irregular discussion of question at present time.Gorst, hampered by this responsibility, made curiously halting speech.Baden-Powellspoke "as one who had been in South Africa";Squire of Malwoodmore gravely repeatedSydney Buxton'swarning. Now wasSilomio'stime. But before he could movePrince Arthurwas on his feet, positively, with some commonplaces about respecting Ministerial responsibility, consenting to close the conversation!
Silomiogasped for breath; instinctively felt for his assegai; clutched at his notes dripping with the gore ofSydney Buxton. When he had partially mastered his emotion the amendment was withdrawn and opportunity had fled.
"Sic vos non vobis vellera fertis oves," saidPlunketsoothingly. "But never mind. You remember that in the endVirgilgot his own, andBathyliuswas basted."Silomiostared.
Business done.—Silomiocontrives a debate and others talk.
Friday Night.—Policemen in lobby much startled by incident that preceded arrival ofSpeakerto resume sittings at nine o'clock. The steady tramp of a column in marching order broke on the ear. Came nearer and nearer from direction of dining-room; swinging doors flung open; Colonel of the Queen's Westminster Volunteers entered. Behind him, in close order, tramped something like score of members. At word of command they took half turn to right and passed into House, as in earlier days another British column swung through the gates of Delhi.
Ten minutes later, more than half the force were observed to come out of the House, look furtively round, and dash off in various directions, some to smoking-room, some to reading-room, and some clear off the premises. But they had done their appointed work, andHoward Vincent, an old campaigner, had secured opportunity for delivering his speech on hostile tariffs and bounties.
Grave doubt at morning sitting whether House could be made for the alluring joy.Vincenttook up position in lobby much as recruiting-sergeant shows himself near Trafalgar Square. Accosted all Members passing by. Offered them free rations and front seats for the lecture if they would stay. Soon picked up enough men to reduce chances of count out. Dinner, I am told, a little exciting, especially towards the end. Several Members discovered straying towards the door. But the ex-captain, of the Royal Berks Militia not to be trifled with. Kept them together past the cheese; delivered every man in the House one minute and thirty seconds before theSpeakertook the Chair. If any skulked out when the Colonel was once embarked on his lecture he, of course, couldn't interfere. But they mustn't suppose their departure wasn't marked. No more free rations for them.
Business done.—By reason ofCawmell-Bannerman'sgreat persuasiveness men and money for Army voted at morning sitting.
Seaside Mem.—The Society recently started to abolish Tide-houses will not include Bathing Machines within the scope of its operations.