"GO 'OME, DIRTY DICK!""GO 'OME, DIRTY DICK!"
A Grim Old Lady Opposite.And I only hope, my dear, you'll never be taken for any one less respectable.
[Collapse ofGenteel Y.L.
First Humorous 'Arry(recognising a friend on entering). Excuse me stoppin' your kerridge, old man, but I thought you wouldn't mind givin' me a lift, as you was goin' my way.
Second H.'A. Quite welcome, old chap, so long as you give my man a bit when you git down, yer know.
First H.'A. Oh, o' course—that's expected between gentlemen.
(Both look round to see if their facetiousness is appreciated, find it is not and subside.)
The Conductor.Benk, benk! (he means "Bank") 'Oborn, benk! 'Igher up there, Bill, can't you?
A Dingy Man smoking, in a van.Want to block up the ole o' the road, eh? That's right!
The Conductor(roused to personality). Go 'ome, Dirty Dick! syme old soign, I see,—"Monkey an' Poipe!" (To Coachman of smart brougham which is pressing rather closely behind.) I say old man, don't you race after my bus like this—you'll only tire your 'orse.
[The Coachman affects not to have heard.
The Conductor(addressing the brougham horse, whose head is almost through the door of the omnibus). 'Ere,'angit all!—step insoide, if yer want to!
[Brougham falls to rear—triumph ofConductoras Scene closes.
Scene—An upper floor in a City Warehouse; a low whitewashed room, dimly lighted by dusty windows and two gas-burners in wire cages. Around the walls are ranged several statues of meek aspect, securely confined in barred wooden cases, like a sort of marble menagerie. In the centre, a labyrinthine grove of pedestals, surmounted by busts, groups, and statuettes by modern Italian masters. About these pedestals a small crowd—consisting of Elderly Merchants on the look out for a "neat thing in statuary" for the conservatory at Croydon or Muswell Hill, Young City Men who have dropped in after lunch, Disinterested Dealers, Upholsterers' Buyers, Obliging Brokers, and Grubby and Mysterious men—is cautiously circulating.
Obliging Broker(toAmiable Spectator,who has come in out of curiosity, and without the remotest intention of purchasing sculpture). No Catlog, Sir? 'Ere, allow me to orfer you mine—that'smyname in pencil on the top of it, Sir; and, if youshould'appen to see any lot that takes your fancy, you jest ketch my eye. (Reassuringly.) I sha'n't be fur off. Or look 'ere, gimme a nudge—I shall know what it means.
[TheA. S.thanks him profusely, and edges away with an inward vow to avoid his and theAuctioneer'seyes, as he would those of a basilisk.
Auctioneer(from desk, with the usual perfunctory fervour). Lot 13, Gentlemen, very charming pair of subjects from child life—"The Pricked Finger" and "The Scratched Toe"—by Bimbi.
A Stolid Assistant(in shirtsleeves). Figgers'ere, Gen'lm'n!
[Languid surge of crowd towards them.
"FIGGERS 'ere, GEN'L'M'N!""FIGGERS 'ere, GEN'L'M'N!"
A Facetious Bidder.Which of 'em's the finger and which the toe?
Auct.(coldly). I should have thought it was easy to identify by the attitude. Now, Gentlemen, give me a bidding for these very finely-executed works by Bimbi. Make any offer. What will you give me for 'em? Both very sweet things, Gentlemen. Shall we say ten guineas?
A Grubby Man.Give yer five.
Auct.(with grieved resignation). Very well, start 'em at five. Any advance on five? (ToAssist.) Turn 'em round, to show the back view. And a 'arf! Six! And a 'arf! Only six and a 'arf bid for this beautiful pair of figures, done direct from nature by Bimbi. Come, Gentlemen, come! Seven! Was thatyou,Mr. Grimes? (The Grubby Manadmits the soft impeachment.) Seven and a 'arf. Eight! It'sagainstyou.
Mr. Grimes(with a supreme effort). Two-and-six!
[Mops his brow with a red cotton handkerchief.
Auct.(in a tone of gratitude for the smallest mercies). Eight-ten-six. All done at eight-ten-six? Going ... gone!Grimes, Eight, ten, six. Take money for 'em. Now we come to a very 'andsome work by Piffalini—"The Ocarina Player," one of this great artist's masterpieces, and an exceedingly choice and high-class work, as you will all agree directly you see it. (ToAssist.) Now, then, Lot 14, there—look sharp!
Stolid Assist."Hocarina Plier" eyn't arrived, Sir.
Auct.Oh, hasn't it? Very well, then. Lot 15. "The Pretty Pill-taker," by Antonio Bilio—a really magnificent work of Art, Gentlemen. ("Pill-taker, 'ere.!" from theS. A.) What'll you give me for her? Come, make me an offer. (Bidding proceeds till the "Pill-taker" is knocked down for twenty-three-and-a-half guineas.) Lot 16, "The Mixture as Before," by same artist—make a charming and suitable companion to the last lot. What do you say,Mr. Middleman—take it at the same bidding? (Mr. M.assents, with the end of one eyebrow.) Any advance on twenty-three and a 'arf? None? Then,—Middleman, Twenty-four, thirteen, six.
Mr. Middleman(to theAmiable Spectator,who has been vaguely inspecting the "Pill-taker"). Don't know if you noticed it, Sir, but I got that last couple very cheap—on'y forty-seven guineas the pair, and they are worth eighty, I solemnly declare to you. I could get forty a piece for'em to-morrow, upon my word and honour, I could. Ah, and I know who'dgiveit me for 'em, too!
The A. S.(sympathetically). Dear me, then you've done very well over it.
Mr. M.Ah, well ain't the word—and those two aren't the only lots I've got either. That "Sandwich-Man" over there is mine—look at the work in those boards, and the nature in his clay pipe; and "The Boot-Black," that's mine, too—all worth twice whatIgot 'em for—and lovely things, too, ain't they?
The A. S.Oh, very nice, very clever—congratulate you, I'm sure.
Mr. M.I can see you've took a fancy to 'em, Sir, and, when I come across a gentleman that's a connysewer, I'm always sorry to stand in his light; so, see here, you can have any one you like out o' my little lot, or all on 'em, with all the pleasure in the wide world, Sir, and I'll on'y charge you five per cent. on what I gave for 'em, and be exceedingly obliged to you, into the bargain, Sir. (TheA. S.feebly disclaims any desire to take advantage of this magnanimous offer.) Don't say No, if you mean Yes, Sir. Will you'ave "The Pill-taker,"Sir?
The A. S.(politely). Thank you very much, but—er—I thinknot.
Mr. M.Then perhaps you could do with "The Little Boot-Black," or "The Sandwich-Man," Sir?
The A. S.Perhaps—but I could do still betterwithoutthem.
[He moves to another part of the room.
The Obl. Broker(whispering beerily in his ear). Seen anythink yet as takes your fancy, Sir; 'cos, if so—
[The A. S.escapes to a dark corner—where he is warmly welcomed byMr. Middleman.
Mr. M.Knewyou'd think better on it, Sir. Now which is it to be—the "Boot-Black," or "Mixture as Before"?
Auct.Now we come to Lot 19. Massive fluted column in coral marble with revolving-top—a column, Gentlemen, which will speak for itself.
The Facetious Bidder(after a scrutiny). Then it may as well mention, while it'saboutit, that it's got a bit out of its back!
Auct.Flaw in the marble, that's all. (ToAssist.) Nothing thematterwith the column, is there?
Assist.(with reluctant candour). Well, it'asgot a little chipped, Sir.
Auct.(easily). Oh, very well then, we'll sell it "A. F." Very glad it was found out in time, I'm sure. [Bidding proceeds.
First DealertoSecond(in a husky whisper). Talkin' o' Old Masters, I put young 'Anway up to a good thing the other day.
Second D.(without surprise—probably from a knowledge of his friend's noble unselfish nature). Ah—'ow was that?
First D.Well, there was a picter as I 'appened to know could be got in for a deal under what it ought—in good 'ands, mind yer—to fetch. It was a Morlan'—leastwise, it was so like you couldn't ha' told the difference, if you understand my meanin'. (The other nods with complete intelligence.) Well, I 'adn't no openin' for it myself just then, so I sez to young 'Anway, "You might do worse than go and 'ave alookat it," I told him. And I run against him yesterday, Wardour Street way, and I sez, "Did yer go andseethat picter?" "Yes," sez he, "and what's more, I got it at pretty much my own figger, too!" "Well," sez I, "and ain't yer goin' toshake 'ands with me over it?"
Second D.(interested). Anddidhe?
First D.Yes, he did—he beyaved very fair over the matter, I will saythatfor him.
Second D.Oh, 'Anway's a very decent little feller—now.
Auct.(hopefully). Now, Gentlemen, this next lot'll tempt you,I'm sure! Lot 33, a magnificent and very finely executed dramatic group out of the "Merchant of Venice,"Othelloin the act of smotheringDesdemona, both nearly life-size. (Assist.,with a sardonic inflection. "Group'ere,Gen'lm'n!") What shall we say for this great work by Roccocippi, Gentlemen? A hundred guineas, just to start us?
The F. B.Can't you put the two figgers up separate?
Auct.You know better than that—being a group, Sir. Come, come, any one give me a hundred for this magnificent marble group! The figure ofOthellovery finely finished, Gentlemen.
The F. B.I should ha' thought it washerwho was the finely finished one of the two.
Auct.(pained by this levity). Really, Gentlemen,do'ave more appreciation of a 'igh-class work like this!... Twenty-five guineas?... Nonsense! I can't put it up at that.
[Bidding languishes. Lot withdrawn.
Second Disinterested Dealer(toFirst D. D.,in an undertone). I wouldn't tell every one, but I shouldn't like to seeyoustay 'ere and waste your time; so, in case youwasthinking of waiting for that last lot, I may just as well mention—
[Whispers.
First D. D.Ah, it'sthatway, is it? Much obliged to you for the 'int. But I'd do the same for you any day.
Second D. D.I'msureyer would!
[They watch one another suspiciously.
Auct.Now 'ere's a tasteful thing, Gentlemen. Lot. 41. "Nymph eating Oysters" ("Nymph 'ere, Gen'lm'n!"), by the celebrated Italian artist Vabene, one of the finest works of Art in this room, and they'reallexceedingly fine works of Art; but this is atrulywork of Art, Gentlemen. What shall we say for her, eh? (Silence.) Why, Gentlemen, no more appreciation thanthat? Come, don't be afraid of it. Make a beginning. (Bidding starts.) Forty-five guineas. Forty-six—pounds. Forty-six pounds only, this remarkable specimen of modern Italian Art. Forty-six and a 'arf. Only forty-six ten bid for it. Give character to any gentleman's collection, a figure like this would. Forty-sevenpounds—guineas! and a 'arf.... Forty-seven and a 'arf guineas.... For the last time! Bidding with you, Sir. Forty-seven guineas and a 'arf—Gone! Name, Sir, ifyouplease. Oh, money? Very well. Thank you.
Proud Purchaser(to Friend, in excuse for his extravagance). You see, I must have something for that grotto I've got in the grounds.
His Friend.If she was mine, I should put her in the hall, and have a gaslight fitted in the oyster-shell.
P. P. (thoughtfully). Not a bad idea. But electric light would be more suitable, and easier to fix too. Yes—we'll see.
The Obl. Broker(pursuing theAm. Spect.). I 'ope, Sir, you'll remember me, next time you're this way.
The Am. Spect.(who has only ransomed himself by taking over an odd lot, consisting of imitation marble fruit, a model, under crystal, of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and three busts of Italian celebrities of whom he has never heard). I'm afraid I sh'an't have very much chance of forgetting you.Goodafternoon!
[Exit hurriedly, dropping the fruit, as Scene closes.
IN THE CENTRAL HALL.
A Thrifty Visitor(on entering). Catalogue? No. What's the use of a Catalogue? Miserable thing, the size of a tract, that tells you nothing you don't know!
His Wife(indicating a pile of Catalogues on table). Aren'tthesebig enough for you?
The Thr. V.Those? Why they're big enough for theLondon Directory! Think I'm going to drag a thing like that about the place? You don't really want a Catalogue—it's all your fancy!
Mr. Prattler(toMiss Ammerson). Oh,dostop and look at thesesweetgoldfish! Pets! Don't youlovethem?Aren'tthey tame?
Miss Ammerson.Wouldn't do to have themwild—might jump out andbitepeople, you know!
Mr. P.It'stoohorrid of you to make fun of my poor little enthusiasms! But really,—couldn't we get something and feed them?—Dolet's!
Miss A.I dare say you could get ham-sandwiches in the Restaurant—or chocolates.
Mr. P.How unkind you are to me! But I don't care. (Wilfully.) I shall come here all by myself, and bring biscuits. Great big ones! Are you determined to take me into that big room with all the Portraits? Well you must tell me who they all are, then, and which are the Guelphiest ones.
"PETS! DON'T YOU love THEM? Aren't THEY TAME?""PETS! DON'T YOU love THEM? Aren't THEY TAME?"
Considerate Niece(toUncle). They seem mostly Portraits here. You're sure you don'tmindlooking at them, Uncle? I know so many peopledoobject to Portraits.
Uncle(with the air of a Christian Martyr). No, my dear, no;Idon't mind 'em. Stay here as long as you like. I'll sit down and look at the people till you've done.
First Critical Visitor(examining a View of St. James's Park). I wonder where that was taken. In Scotland, I expect—there's two Highlanders there, you see.
Second C. V.Shouldn't wonder—lot o' work in that, all those different colours, and so many dresses. [Admires, thoughtfully.
A Well-read Woman.That's Queen Charlotte, that is. George the Third's wife, you know—her that was sodomestic.
Her Companion.Wasn't that the one that was shut up in the Tower, or something?
The W. W.In the Tower? Lor, my dear, no,Inever 'eard of it. You're thinking of the Tudors, or some o' that lot, I expect!
Her Comp.Am I? I dare say. I nevercouldremember 'Istry. Why, if you'll believe me, I always have to stop and think which of the Georges came first!
More Critical Visitors(before Portraits). He's rather pleasant-looking, don't you think? Idon'tlikeherface at all. So peculiar. And what a hideous dress—like a tea-gown without any upper part—frightful!
A Sceptical V.They all seem to have had such thin lips in those days. Somehow, Ican'tbring myself to believe in such very thin lips—canyou, dear?
Her Friend.I always think it's a sign of meanness, myself.
The S. V.No; but I mean—I can't believeevery onehad them in the eighteenth century.
Her Friend.Oh, I don't know. If it was the fashion!
ABOUT THE CASES.
Visitor(admiring an embroidered waistcoat of the time ofGeorge the Second—a highly popular exhibit). What lovely work! Why, it looks as if it was done yesterday!
Her Companion(who is not in the habit of allowing his enthusiasm to run away with him). Um—yes, it's not bad. But, of course, they wouldn't send a thing like that here without having it washed and done up first!
An Old Lady."Teapot used by the Duke of Wellington during his campaigns." So he dranktea, did he? Dear me! Do you know, my dear, I think I must havemyold tea-pot engraved. It will make it so much more interesting some day!
IN THE SOUTH GALLERY.
Mr. Prattler(before a portrait of Lady Hamilton by Romney). There! Isn't she too charming? I do call her a perfectduck!
Miss Ammerson.Yes, you mustn't forget her when you bring those biscuits.
An Amurrcan Girl.Father, see up there; there's Byron. Did you erver see such a purrfectly beautiful face?
Her Father(solemnly). He was a beautifulMan—a beautiful Poet.
The A. G.I know—but theexpression, it's real saint-like!
Father(slowly). Well, I guess if he'd had any different kind of expression, he wouldn't have written the things hedidwrite, and that's a fact!
A Moralising Old Lady(at Case O). No. 1260. "Ball of Worsted wound by William Cowper, the poet, for Mrs. Unwin." No. 1261. "Netting done by William Cowper, the poet." How very nice, and what a difference in the habit of literary personsnowadays, my dear!
IN THE CENTRAL HALL.
Mr. Whiterose,a Jacobite fin de siècle, is seated on a Bench beside aSeedy Stranger.
The S. S.(half to himself). Har, well, there's one comfort, these 'ere Guelphs'll get notice to quit afore we'remucholder!
Mr. Whiterose(surprised). You say so? Then you too are of the Young England Party! I am rejoiced to hear it. You cheer me; it is a sign that the good Cause is advancing.
The S. S.Advancin'? I believe yer. Why, I know a dozen and more as are workin' 'art and soul for it!
Mr. W.You do? We are making strides, indeed! Our England has suffered these usurpers too long.
The S. S.Yer right. But we'll chuck 'em out afore long, and it'll be "Over goes the Show" with the lot, eh?
Mr. W.I had no idea that the—er—intelligent artisan classes were so heartily with us. We must talk more of this. Come and see me. Bring your friends—all you can depend upon. Here is my card.
The S. S.(putting the card in the lining of his hat). Right, Guv'nor; we'll come. I wish there was more gents like yer, I do!
Mr. W.We are united by a common bond. We both detest—do we not?—the Hanoverian interlopers. We are both pledged never to rest until we have brought back to the throne of our beloved England, her lawful sovereign lady—(uncovering)—our gracious Mary of Austria-Este, the legitimate descendant of Charles the Blessed Martyr!
The S. S.'Old on, Guv'nor! Me and my friends are with yer so fur as doing away with these 'ere hidle Guelphs; but blow yer Mary of Orstria, yer know. Blow'er!
Mr. W.(horrified). Hush—this is rank treason! Remember—she is the lineal descendant of the House of Stuart!
The S. S.What of it? There won't be no lineal descendants when we githourway, 'cause there won't be nothing to descend to nobody. The honly suv'rinwemean to 'ave is the People—the Democrisy.But there, you're young, me and my friends'll soon tork you over to hour way o' thinking. I dessay we 'aint fur apart, as it is. I got yer address, and we'll drop in on yer some night—never fear. No hevenin' dress, o' course?
Mr. W.Of course. I—I'll look out for you. But I'm seldom in—hardlyever, in fact.
The S. S.Don't you fret aboutthat. Me and my friends ain't nothing partickler to do just now. We'llwaitfor yer. I should like yer to know ole Bill Gabb. You should 'earthatfeller goin' on agin the Guelphs when he's 'ad a little booze—it 'ud do your 'art good. Well, I on'y come in 'ere as a deligate like, to report, and I seen enough. So 'ere's good-day to yer.
Mr W.(alone). I shall have to change my rooms—and Iwasso comfortable! Well, well,—another sacrifice to the Cause!
IN THE VESTIBULE.
Visitors ascending staircase, full of enthusiasm and energetic determination not to miss a single Picture, encounter people descending in various stages of mental and physical exhaustion. At the turnstiles two Friends meet unexpectedly; both being shy men, who, with timely notice, would have preferred to avoid one another, their greetings are marked by an unnatural effusion and followed by embarrassed silence.
First Shy Man(to break the spell). Odd, our running up against one another like this, eh?
Second Shy Man.Oh, very odd. (Looks about him irresolutely, and wonders if it would be decent to pass on. Decides it will hardly do.) Great place for meeting, the Academy, though.
First S. M.Yes; sure to come acrosssomebody, sooner or later.
[Laughs nervously, and wishes the other would go.
Second S. M.(seeing that his friend lingers). This yourfirstvisit here?
First S. M.Yes. Couldn't very well get awaybefore, you know.
[Feels apologetic, without exactly knowing why.
Second S. M.It'smyfirst visit, too. (Sees no escape, and resigns himself.) Er—we may as well go round together, eh?
FirstS. M. (who was afraid this was coming—heartily). Good! By the way, I always think, on a first visit, it's best to take a single room, and do that thoroughly. [This has only just occurred to him.
Second S. M.(who had been intending to follow that plan himself). Oh,doyou? Now, formypart, I don't attempt to see anythingthoroughlythe first time. Just scamper through, glance at the things one oughtn't to miss, get a general impression, and come away.Then, if I don't happen to come again, I've alwaysdoneit, you see. But (considerately), look here. Don't let me drag you about, if you'd rather not!
First S. M.Oh, but I shouldn't like to feel I was any tie on you. Don't you mind about me. I shall potter about in here—for hours, I dare say.
Second S. M.Ah, well (with vague consolation), I shall always know where tofindyou, I suppose.
First S. M.(brightening visibly). Oh dear, yes; I sha'n't be far away.
[They part with mutual relief, only tempered by the necessity of following the course they have respectively prescribed for themselves. Nemesis overtakes theSecond S. M.in the next Gallery, when he is captured by a Desultory Enthusiast, who insists upon dragging him all over the place to see obscure "bits" and "gems," which are only to be appreciated by ricking the neck or stooping painfully.
A Suburban Lady(to Female Friend). Oh dear,howstupid of me! Iquiteforgot to bring a pencil! Oh,thankyou, dear, that will dobeautifully. It's just alittleblunt; but so long as I canmarkwith it, you know. You don't think we should avoid the crush if we began at the end room? Well, perhaps itisless confusing to begin at the beginning, and work steadily through.
IN GALLERY NO. I.
A small group has collected before Mr. Wyllie's "Davy Jones's Locker," which they inspect solemnly for some time before venturing to commit themselves to any opinion.
First Visitor(after devoting his whole mind to the subject). Why, it's the Bottom of the Sea—at least (more cautiously), that's what it seems to beintendedfor.
Second V.Ah, and very well done, too. I wonder, now, how he managed to stay down long enough to paint all that?
"CAPTURED BY A DESULTORY ENTHUSIAST.""CAPTURED BY A DESULTORY ENTHUSIAST."
Third V.Practice, I suppose. I've seen writing done under water myself. But that was a tank!
Fourth V.(presumably in profound allusion to the fishes and sea-anemones). Well, they seem to be 'aving it all their own way down there, don't they?
[The Group, feeling that this remark sums up the situation, disperses.
The Suburban Lady(her pencil in full play). No. 93. Now what'sthatabout? Oh, "Forbidden Sweets,"—yes, to be sure.Isn'tthat charming? Those two dear little tots having their tea, and the kitten with its head stuck in the jam-pot, and the label and all, and the sticky spoon on the nursery table-cloth—sonatural!I reallymustmark that. (Awards this distinction.) 97. "Going up Top." Yes,of course. Look, Lucy dear, that little fellow has just answered a question, and his master tells him he may go to the top of the class, do yousee? And the big boy looking so sulky, he's wishing he had learnt his lesson better. I do think it'ssoclever—all the different expressions. Yes, I shallcertainlymark that!
IN GALLERY NO. II.
The S. L.(doubtfully). H'm, No. 156. "Cloud Chariots"? Not verylikechariots, though,arethey?
Her Friend.I expect it's one of those sort of pictures that you have to look at a long time, and then things gradually comeoutof it, you know.
The S. L.Itmaybe. (Tries the experiment.) No,Ican't makeanythingcome out—only just clouds and their reflections. (Struggling between good-nature and conscientiousness.) Idon'tthink Icanmark that.
IN GALLERY NO. III.
A Matron(before Mr. Dicksee's "Tannhäuser"). "Venus and Tannhäuser"—ah, and is that Venus on the stretcher? Oh,that'sher all on fire in the background. Then which is Tannhäuser, and what are they all supposed to be doing? [In a tone of irritation.
Her Nephew.Oh, it tells you all about it in the Catalogue—he meets her funeral, you know, and leaves grow on his stick.
The Matron(pursing her lips). Oh, adead person.
[Repulses the Catalogue severely and passes on.
First Person,with an "Eye for Art"(before "Psyche's Bath," by the President). Not bad, eh?
Second Person, &c. No, I rather like it. (Feels that he is growing too lenient). He doesn't give you a very good idea of marble, though.
First P.&c. No—that'snot marble, and he always puts too many folds in his drapery to suitme.
First P.&c. Just whatIalways say. It's not natural, you know.
[They pass on, much pleased with themselves and one another.
A Fiancé(halting before a sea-scape, by Mr. Henry Moore, toFiancée). Here, I say, hold on a bit—what'sthisone?
Fiancée(who doesn't mean to waste the whole afternoon over pictures). Why, it's only a lot of waves—comeon!
The Suburban L.Lucy,thisis rather nice."Breakfasts for the Porth!" (Pondering). I think there must be a mistake in the Catalogue—I don't see any breakfast things—they're cleaning fish, and what's a "Porth!" Would you mark that—or not?
Her Comp.Oh, Ithinkso.
The S. L.I don't know. I've marked such a quantity already and the lead won't hold out much longer. Oh, it's by Hook, R.A. Then I suppose it'ssureto be all right. I've marked it, dear.
Duet by Two Dreadfully Severe Young Ladies,who paint a little on China. Oh, mydear, look at that. Did you everseesuch a thing? Isn't it too perfectlyawful? And there's a thing! Do come and look at this horror over here. A "Study," indeed. I should just think itwas! Oh, Maggie, don't be so satirical, or I shall die! No, butdojust see this—isn't itkilling?They get worse and worse every year, I declare!
[And so on.
IN GALLERY NO. V.
Two Prosaic Persons come upon a little picture, by Mr. Swan, of a boy lying on a rock, piping to fishes.
First P. P.That'sa rum thing!
Second P. P.Yes, I wasn't aware myself that fishes were so partial to music.
First P. P.They may be—out there—(perceiving that the boy is unclad)—but it's peculiar altogether—they look like herrings to me.
Second P. P.Yes—or mackerel. But (tolerantly) I suppose it's a fancy subject.
[They consider that this absolves them from taking any further interest in it, and pass on.
IN GALLERY NO. XI.
An Old Lady(who judges Art from a purely Moral Standpoint, halts approvingly before a picture of a female orphan). Now that really is a nice picture, my dear—a plain black dress and white cuffs—just what Iliketo see in a young person!
The S. L.(her enthusiasm greatly on the wane, and her temper slightly affected). Lucy, Iwishyou wouldn't worry so—it's quite impossible to stop and look ateverything. If you wanted your tea as badly asIdo! Mark that one? What, when they neither of them have a singlethingon! Never, Lucy,—and I'm surprised at your suggesting it! Oh, you meant the next one? h'm—no, Ican'tsay I care for it. Well, if Idomark it, I shall only put a tick—for it really isnotworth a cross!
COMING OUT.
The Man who always makes the Right Remark.H'm. Haven't seen anything I could carry away with me.
His Flippant Friend.Too many people about, eh? Never mind, old chap, youmaymanage to sneak an umbrella down stairs—I won't say anything!
[Disgust of his companion, who descends stairs in offended silence, as scene closes.
Time—About 3.30.Leaping Competition about to begin. The Competitors are ranged in a line at the upper end of the Hall while the attendants place the hedges in position. Amongst the Spectators in the Area are—a Saturnine Stableman from the country; a Cockney Groom; a Morbid Man; a Man who is apparently under the impression that he is the only person gifted with sight; a Critic who is extremely severe upon other people's seats; a Judge of Horseflesh; and Two Women who can't see as well as they could wish.
The Descriptive Man.They've got both the fences up now, d'ye see? There's the judges going to start the jumping; each rider's got a ticket with his number on his back. See? The first man's horse don't seem to care about jumping this afternoon—see how he's dancing about. Now he's going at it—there, he's cleared it! Now he'll have to jump the next one!
[Keeps up a running fire of these instructive and valuable observations throughout the proceedings.
The Judge of Horseflesh.Rare good shoulders that one has.
The Severe Critic(taking the remark to apply to the horse's rider). H'm, yes—rather—pity he sticks his elbows out quite so much, though.
[His Friend regards him in silent astonishment. Another Competitor clears a fence, but exhibits a considerable amount of daylight.
The Saturnine Stableman(encouragingly). You'll 'ev to set back a bit next journey, Guv'nor!
The Cockney Groom.'Orses 'ud jump better if the fences was a bit 'igher.
The S. S.They'll be plenty 'oigh enough fur some on 'em.
The Severe Critic.Ugly seat that fellow has—all anyhow when the horse jumps.
Judge of Horseflesh.Has he? I didn't notice—I was looking at the horse. [Severe Criticfeels snubbed.
The S. S.(soothingly, as the Competitor with the loose seat comes round again).That'snot good, Guv'nor!
The Cockney Groom.'Ere's a little bit o' fashion coming down next—why, there's quite a boy on his back.
The S. S.'E won't be on 'im long if he don't look out. Cup an ballIcall it!
The Morbid Man.I suppose there's always a accident o' some sort before they've finished.
First Woman.Oh, don't, for goodness' sake, talk like that—I'm sureIdon't want to see nothing 'appen.
Second Woman.Well, you may make your mind easy—for you won't see nothing here; youwouldhave it this was the best place to come to!
First Woman.I only said there was no sense in paying extra for the balcony, when you can go in the area for nothing.
Second Woman(snorting). Area, indeed! It might be a good deal airier than what it is, I'm sure—I shall melt if I stay here much longer.
The Morbid Man, There's one thing about being so close to the jump as this—if the 'orse jumps sideways—as 'osses will do every now and then—he'll be right in among us before we know where we are, and then there'll be a pretty how-de-do!
Second Woman(to her Friend). Oh, come away, do—it's bad enough to see nothing, let alone having a great 'orse coming down atop of us, and me coming out in my best bonnet, too—come away! [They leave.
The Descriptive Man.Now, they're going to make 'em do some in-and-out jumping, see? they're putting the fences closetogether—that'll puzzle some of them—ah, he's over both of 'em; very clean that one jumps! Over again! He's got to do it all twice, you see.
The Judge of Horseflesh.Temperate horse, that chestnut.
The Severe Critic.Is he, though?—but I suppose theyhaveto be here, eh? Not allowed champagne or whiskey or anything before they go in—like they are on a race-course?
The J. of H.No, they insist on every horse taking the pledge before they'll enter him.
The Descriptive Man.Each of 'em's had a turn at the in-and-out jump now. What's coming next? Oh, the five-barred gate—they're going over that now, and the stone wall—see them putting the bricks on top? That's toraiseit.
The Morbid Man.None of 'em been off yet; but (hopefully) there'll be a nasty fall or two over this business—there's been many a neck broke over a lower gate than that.
[A Competitor clears the gate easily, holding the reins casually in his right hand.
The J. of H.That man can ride.
The Severe Critic.Pretty well—not what I callbusiness, though—going over a gate with one hand, like that.
The J. of H.Didn't know you were such an authority.
The S. C.(modestly). Oh, I can tell when a fellow has a good seat. I used to ride a good deal at one time. Don't get the chance much now—worse luck!
The J. of H.Well, I can give you a chance, as it happens. (Severe Criticaccepts with enthusiasm, and the inward reflection that the chance is much less likely to come off than he is himself.) You wait till the show is over, and they let the horses in for exercise. I know a man who's got a cob here—regular little devil to go—bucks a bit at times—but you won't mind that. I'll take you round to the stall and get my friend to let you try him on the tan. How will that do you, eh?
The Severe Critic(almost speechless with gratitude). Oh—er—itwilldome right enough—capital! That is—itwould, if I hadn't an appointment, and had my riding things on, and wasn't feeling rather out of sorts, and hadn't promised to go home and take my wife in the Park, and it's her birthday, too, and, then, I've long made it a rule never to mount a strange horse, and—er—so you understand how it is don't you?
The J. of H.Quite, my dear fellow. (As, for that matter, he has done from the first.)
The Cockney Groom(alluding to a man who is riding at the gate). 'Ere's a rough 'un this bloke's on! (Horse rises at gate; his rider shouts "Hoo, over!" and the gate falls amidst general derision.) Over? Ah, I should just think itwasover!
The Saturnine Stableman(as horseman passes). Yer needn't ha' "Hoo'd" for that much!
[The Small Boy, precariously perched on an immense animal, follows; his horse, becoming unmanageable, declines the gate, and leaps the hurdle at the side.
The S. S.Ah, you're aartfullad, you are—thought you'd take it where it was easiest, eh?—you'll 'ev to goo back and try agen you will.
Chorus of Sympathetic Bystanders.Take him at it again, boy;you'reall right!... Hold him in tighter, my lad.... Let out your reins a bit! Lor, they didn't ought to let a boy like that ride.... He ain't no more 'old on that big 'orse than if he was a fly on him!... Keep his 'ed straighter next time.... Enough to try a boy's nerve! &c., &c.
[The Boy takes the horse back, and eventually clears the gate amidst immense and well-deserved applause.
The Morbid Man(disappointed). Well, I fully expected to see'imtook off on a shutter.
The Descriptive Man.It's the water-jump next—see; that's it in the middle; there's the water, underneath the hedge; they'll have to clear the 'ole of that—or else fall in and get a wetting. They've taken all thehorses round to the other entrance—they'll come in from that side directly.