"GO IN, JIM! YOU GOT YER MARKIN'-PAPER READY ANYHOW.""GO IN, JIM! YOU GOT YER MARKIN'-PAPER READY ANYHOW."
Enter a small party of 'Arries in high spirits.
First 'Arry.'Ullo!I'm on to this. 'Ere Guv'nor', 'and us a gun.I'll show yer 'ow to shoot!
[He takes up his position, in happy unconsciousness that playful companions have decorated his coat-collar behind with a long piece of white paper.
Second 'Arry.Go in, Jim! You got yer markin'-paper ready anyhow.
[Delighted guffaws from the other'Arries,in whichJimjoins vaguely.
Third 'Arry.I'll lay you can't knock a rabbit down!
Jim.I'll lay I can!
[Fires. The procession of rabbits goes on undisturbed.
Second 'Arry(jocosely). Never mind. Youpeppered'im. I sor the feathers floy!
Third 'Arry.You'd ha' copped 'im if yer'd bin a bit quicker.
Jim(annoyed). They keep on movin' so, they don't give a bloke no chornce!
Second 'Arry.'Ave a go at that old owl.
[Alluding to a tin representation of that fowl which remains stationary among the painted rushes.
Third 'Arry.No—see if you can't git that stuffed bear. He's on'y a yard or two away!
An Impatient 'Arry(at doorway). 'Ere,come on! Ain't you shot enough? Shake a leg, can't yer, Jim?
Second 'Arry.He's got to kill one o' them rabbits fust. Or pot a tin lion, Jim?Youain't afraid?
Jim.No; I'm goin' to git that owl. He'squietany way.
[Fires. The owl falls prostrate.
Second 'Arry.Got 'im! Owl'sorf! Jim, old man, you must stand drinks round after this!
[Exeunt'Arries,to celebrate their victory in a befitting fashion, as Scene closes in.
Chorus of Arab Stall-Keepers.Come an look! Alaha-ba-li-boo! Eet is verri cold to-day! I-ah-rish Brandi! 'EreMiss! you com' 'ere! No pay for lookin'. Alf a price! Verri pritti, verri nah-ice, verri cheap verri moch! [And so on.]
Chorus of British Saleswomen.Willyou allow me to show you this little novelty, Sir?'Aveyou seen the noo perfume sprinkler? Do come and try this noo puzzle—no 'arm inlookin', Sir. Very nice little novelties 'ere, Sir! 'Eard the noo French Worltz, Sir? every article is very much reduced, &c., &c.
AT THE FOLIES-BERGÈRE.
Scene—A hall in the grounds. Several turnstiles leading to curtained entrances.
Showman(shouting). Amphitrite, the Marvellous Floatin' Goddess Just about to commence! This way for the Mystic Gallery—three illusions for threepence! Atalanta, the Silver Queen of the Moon; the Oriental Beauty in the Table of the Sphinx, and the Wonderful Galatea, or Pygmalion's Dream. Only threepence! This way for the Mystic Marvel o' She! Now commencing!
A Female Sightseer(with the air of a person making an original suggestion) Shall we go in, just to see what it's like?
Male Ditto.May as well, now weare'ere. (To preservehimself from any suspicion of credulity). Sure to be a take-in o' some sort.
"COME AN LOOK! ALAHA-BA-LI-BOO!""COME AN LOOK! ALAHA-BA-LI-BOO!"
[They enter a dim apartment, in which two or three people are leaning over a barrier in front of a small Stage; the Curtain is lowered, and a Pianist is industriously pounding away at a Waltz.
The F. S.(with an uncomfortable giggle). Not much to seesofar, is there?
Her Companion.Well, they ain't begun yet.
[The Waltz ends, and the Curtain rises, disclosing aCavern Scene.Amphitre,in blue tights, rises through the floor.
Amphitre(in the Gallic tongue). Mesdarms et Messures, j'ai l'honnoor de vous sooayter le bong jour! (Floats, with no apparent support, in the air, and performs various graceful evolutions, concluding by reversing herself completely.) Bong swore, Mesdarms et messures, mes remercimongs!
[She dives below, and the Curtain descends.
The F. S.Is that all? I don't see nothing inthat!
Her Comp.(who, having paid for admission, resents this want of appreciation). Why, she was off the ground the 'ole of the time, wasn't she? I'd just like to seeyouturnin' and twisting about in the air as easy as she did with nothing to 'old on by!
The F. S.I didn't notice she was off the ground—yes thatwasclever. I never thought o' that before. Let's go and see the other things now.
Her Comp.Well, if you don't see nothing surprising in 'em till they're all over, you might as well stop outside,Ishould ha' thought.
The F. S.Oh, but I'll notice more next time—you've got to getusedto these things, you know.
[They enter the Mystic Gallery, and find themselves in a dim passage, opposite a partitioned compartment, in which is a glass case, supported on four pedestals, with a silver crescent at the back. The illusions—to judge from a sound of scurrying behind the scenes—have apparently been taken somewhat unawares.
The Female Sightseer(anxious to please). They've done that 'alf-moon very well, haven't they?
Voice of Showman(addressing the Illusions). Now then, 'urry up there—we're all waiting for you.
[The face of "Atalanta, the Silver Queen of the Moon," appears strongly illuminated, inside the glass-box, and regards the spectators with an impassive contempt—greatly to their confusion.
The Male S.(in a propitiatory tone). Not a bad-looking girl, is she?
Atalanta, the Queen of the Moon(to theOriental Beautyin next compartment). Polly, when these people are gone, I wish you'd fetch me my work!
[The Sightseers move on, feeling crushed. In the second compartment the upper portion of a female is discovered, calmly knitting in the centre of a small table, the legs of which are distinctly visible.
The Female S.Why, wherever has therestof her got to?
The Oriental Beauty(with conscious superiority). That's what you've got to find out.
[They pass on to interview "Galatea, or Pygmalion's Dream," whose compartment is as yet enveloped in obscurity.
A Youthful Showman (apparently on familiar terms with all the Illusions). Ladies and Gentlemen, I shell now 'ave the honour of persentin' to you the wonderful Galatear or Livin' Statue; you will 'ave an oppertoonity of 'andling the bust for yourselves, which will warm before your eyes into living flesh, and the lovely creecher live and speak. 'Ere, look sharp, earn't yer! (ToGalatea.)
Pygmalion's Dream(from the Mystic gloom). Wait a bit till I've done warming my 'ands. Now you can turn the lights up ... there, you've bin and turned 'emoutnow, stoopid!The Y. S.Don't you excite yourself. I know what I'm doin'. (Turns the lights up, and reveals a large terra-cotta Bust.) At myrequest, this young lydy will now perceed to assoom the yew and kimplexion of life itself. Galatear, will you oblige us by kindly coming to life?
[The Bust vanishes, and is replaced by a decidedly earthly Young Woman in robust health.
The Y. S.Thenk you. That's all I wanted of yer. Now, will you kindly return to your former styte?
[The Young Woman transforms herself into a hideous Skull.
The Y. S.(in a tone of remonstrance). No—no, not that ridiklous fice! We don't want to see what yer will be—it's veryloikeyer, I know but still—(the skull changes to the Bust.) Ah, that's more the stoyle! (Takes the Bust by the neck and hands it round for inspection.) And now, thenking you for your kind attention, and on'y 'orskin one little fyvour of you, that is, that you will not reveal 'ow it is done, I will now bid you a very good evenin', Lydies and Gentlemen!
The F. S.(outside). It's wonderful how they can do it all for threepence, isn't it? We haven't seenSheyet!
Her Comp.What! 'aven't you seen wonders enough? Come on, then. But youaregoing it you know!
[They enter a small room, at the further end of which are a barrier and proscenium with drawn hangings.
The Exhibitor(in a confidential tone, punctuated by bows). I will not keep you waiting, Ladies and Gentlemen, but at once proceed with a few preliminary remarks. Most of you, no doubt, have read that celebrated story by Mr. Rider 'Aggard, about a certainShe-who-must-be-obeyed, and who dwelt in a place called Kôr, and you will also doubtless remember how she was in the 'abit of repairing at certain intervals, to a cavern, and renooing her youth in a fiery piller. On one occasion, wishing to indooce her lover to foller her example, she stepped into the flame to encourage him—something went wrong with the works, and she was instantly redooced to a cinder. I fortunately 'appened to be near at the time (you will escuse a little wild fib from a showman, I'm sure!) I 'appened to be porsin by, and was thus enabled to secure the ashes of the WonderfulShe, which—(draws hangings and reveals a shallow metal Urn suspendedin the centre of scene) are now before you enclosed in that little urn. She—where are you?
She(in a full sweet voice from below). I am 'ere!
Showman.Then appear!
[The upper portion of an exceedingly comelyYoung Personemerges from the mouth of the Urn.
The F. S.(startled). Lor, she give me quite a turn!
Showman.Some people think this is all done by mirrors, but it is not so; it is managed by a simple arrangement of light and shade. She will now turn slowly round, to convince you that she is really inside the urn and not merely beyind it. (She turns round condescendingly.) She will next pass her 'ands completely round her, thereby demonstrating the utter impossibility of there being any wires to support her. Now she will rap on the walls on each side of her, proving to you that she is no reflection, but a solid reality, after which she will tap the bottom of the urn beneath her so that you may see it really is what it purports to be. (Sheperforms all these actions in the most obliging manner.) She will now disappear for a moment. (Shesinks into the Urn.) Are you still there, She?
She(from the recess of the Urn). Yes.
Showman.Then will you give us some sign of your presence? (a hand and arm are protruded and waved gracefully). Thank you. Now you can come up again. (Shereappears.) She will now answer any questions any lady or gentleman may like to put to her, always provided you won't ask her how it is done—for I'm sure she wouldn't give me away,wouldyou, She?
She(with a slow bow and gracious smile). Certingly not.
The F. S.(to herCompanion). Ask her something—do.
Her Comp.Go on!Iain't got anything to ask her—ask her yourself!
A Bolder Spirit(with interest). Are yourfeetwarm?
She.Quite—thenks.
The Showman.HOW old are you, She?
She(impressively). Two theousand years.
'Arry.And quite a young thing, too!
A Spectator(who has read the Novel). 'Ave you 'eard from Leo Vincey lately?
She(coldly). I don't know the gentleman.
Showman.If you have no more questions to ask her, She will now retire into her Urn thenking you all for your kind attendance this morning, which will conclude the entertainment.
[Final disappearance ofShe.The Audience pass out, feeling—with perfect justice—that they have "had their money's worth."
The line of carriages bound for Buckingham Palace is moving by slow stages down the Drive. A curious but not uncritical crowd, consisting largely of females, peer into the carriages as they pass, and derive an occult pleasure from a glimpse of a satin train and a bouquet. Other spectators circulate behind them, roving from carriage to carriage, straining and staring in at the occupants with the childlike interest of South Sea Islanders. The coachmen and footmen gaze impassively before them, ignoring the crowd to the best of their ability. The ladies in the carriages bear the ordeal of popular inspection with either haughty resignation, elaborate unconsciousness, or amused tolerance, and it is difficult to say which demeanour provokes the greatest resentment in the democratic breast.
Chorus of Female Spectators.We shall see better here than what we did last Droring-Room. Law, 'ow itdidcome down, too, pouring the 'ole day. I was that sorry for the poor 'orses!... Oh, that onewasnice, Marire! Did you see 'er train?—all flame-coloured satting—lovely!Ain't them flowers beautiful? Oh, Liza, 'ere'sa pore skinny-lookin' thing coming next—look at 'er pore dear arms, all bare! But dressed 'andsome enough .... That's a Gineral in there, see? He's 'olding his cocked 'at on his knee to save the feathers—him and her have been 'aving words, apparently.... Oh, Idolike this one. I s'pose that's her Mother with her—well, yes, o' course itmaybe her Aunt!
A Sardonic Loafer.'Ullo, 'ere's a 'aughty one! layin' back andputtin' up 'er glorses! Know us agen, Mum, won't you? You may well look—you ain't seen so much in yer ole life as what you're seein' to-day,I'll lay! Ah, you ought to feel honoured, too, all of us comin' out to look at yer. Drored 'er blind down, this one 'as, yer see—knew she wasn't wuth looking at!
"OW, 'E SMOILED AT ME THROUGH THE BRORNCHES!""OW, 'E SMOILED AT ME THROUGH THE BRORNCHES!"
[A carriage passes; the footman on the box is adorned by an enormous nosegay, over which he can just see.
First Comic Cockney.Ow, I s'y—you'avecome out in bloom, Johnny!
Second C. C.Ah, they've bin forcin''imunder glorse, they 'ave! 'Is Missis'll never find 'im under all them flowers. Ow, 'e smoiled at me through the brornches!
[Another carriage passes, the coachman and footmen of which are undecorated.
First C. C.Shime!—they might ha' stood yer a penny bunch of voilets between yer, that they might!
The Sardonic L.'Ere's a swell turn-out and no mistake—with a couple o' bloomin' beadles standin' be'ind! There's a full-fed 'un inside of it too,—look at the dimonds all over 'er bloomin' old nut.Myeye! (The elderly dowager inside produces a cut-glass scent-bottle of goodly size.) Ah, she's got a drop o' the right sort in there—see her sniffin at it—it won't take 'er long to mop up that little lot!
Jeames(behind the carriage, toChawles). Our old geeser's perdoocin' the custimary amount o' sensation, eh, Chawley?
Chawles(under notice). Well, thank 'Eving, I sha'n't have to share the responsibility of hermuchlonger!
'Arriet(to'Arry). I wonder they don't get tired o' being stared at like they are.
'Arry.Bless your 'art—theydon't mind—theylikeit. They'll go 'ome and s'y (in falsetto) "Ow, Pa, all the bloomin' crowd kep' on a lookin' at us through the winder—itwasproime!"
'Arriet(giggling admiringly). 'Ow doyouknow the w'y they tork?
Arry(superior). Why, they don't tork partickler different from what you and me tork—do they?
First Mechanic.See all them old blokes in red, with the rum 'ats, Bill? They're Beefeaters goin' to the Pallis, they are.
Second M.What do they do when they git there?
First M.Do? oh, mind the bloomin' staircase, and chuck out them as don' beyave themselves.
A Restless Lady(to her husband). Harry, I don't like this place at all. I'm sure we could see better somewhere else. Do let's try and squeeze in somewhere lower down.... No, this is worse—thathorridtobacco! Suppose we cross over to the Palace? [They do so.
A Policeman.Too late to cross now, Sir—go back, please.
[They go back and take up a position in front of the crowd on the curbstone.
The R. L.There, we shall see beautifully here, Harry.
A Crusty Matron(talking at theR. L.and her husband). Well, I'm sure, some persons have got a cheek, coming in at the last minnit and standing in front of those that have stood here hours—that's lady-like, Idon'tthink! Nor yet, I didn't come here to have my eye poked out by other parties' pairosols.
[Continues in this strain until the R. L. can stand it no longer, and urges her husband to depart.
Chorus of Policemen.Pass along there, please, one wayorthe other—keep moving there, Sir.
The R. L.But where are we togo—we must standsomewhere?
A Policeman.Can't stand anywhere 'ere, Mum.
[The unhappy couple are passed on from point to point, until they are finally hemmed in at a spot from which it is impossible to see anything whatever.
Harry.If you had only been content to stay where you were at first, we should have been all right!
The R. L.Nonsense, it is all your fault, youarethe most hopeless person to go anywhere with. Why didn't you tell one of those policemenwho we were?
Harry.Why? Well, because I didn't see one who looked as if it would interest him, if you want to know.
THE ROYAL CARRIAGES ARE APPROACHING.
Chorus of Loyal Ladies of Various Ages.There—they're clearing the way—the Prince and Princess won't be long now. Here's the Life Guards' Band—don't they look byootiful in those dresses? Won't that poor drummer's arms ache to-morrow? This is the escort coming now.... 'Ere come the Royalties. Don't push so, Polly, you can see without that!... There, that was the Prince in the first one—did yer seehim, Polly? Oh, yes, leastwise I see the end of a cocked 'at, which I took to be 'im. Yes,thatwas 'im right enough.... There goes the Princess—wasn'tshe looking nice? I couldn't exactly make out which was her and which was the two young Princesses, they went by all in a flash like, but theydidlook nice!... 'Ere's another Royalty in this kerridge—'oo will she be, I wonder? Oh, I expect it would be the old Duchess of——No, I don't think it was'er,—she wasn't looking pleasant enough,—and she's dead, too.... Now they have got inside—'ark at them playing bits ofGod Save the Queen. Well, I'm glad I've seen it.
A Son(to cheery old Lady). 'Ow are you gettin' on, Mother, eh?
Ch. O. L.First-rate, thankee, John, my boy.
Son.You ain't tired standing about so long?
Ch. O. L.Lor' bless you, no. Don't you worry aboutme.
Son.Could you see 'em from where you was?
Ch. O. L.I could see all the coachmen's 'ats beautiful. We'll wait and see 'em all come out, John, won't we? They won't be more than an hour and a half in there, I dessay.
A Person with a Florid Vocabulary.Well, if I'd ha' known all I was goin' to see was a set o' blanky nobs shut up in their blank-dash kerridges, blank my blanky eyes if I'd ha' stirred a blanky foot, s'elp me Dash, I wouldn't!
A Vendor(persuasively). The kerrect lengwidge of hevery flower that blows—one penny!
Scene—An open air restaurant in the Champs-Elysées; the seats in the enclosure are rapidly filling; the diners in the gallery at the back have passed the salad stage, and are now free to take a more or less torpid interest in the Entertainment below.EnterTwo Britons,who make their way to a couple of vacant chairs close to the orchestra.
First Briton.Entrée libre, you see; nothing to pay! Cheaper than your precious Exhibition, eh? [Chuckles knowingly.
Second Briton(who would rather have stayed at the Exhibition but doesn't like to say so). Don't quite see how they expect the thing to pay if they don't charge anything, though.
First B.Oh, they maketheirprofit out of the dinners up in the gallery there.
Second B.(appreciating the justice of this arrangement, having dined with his companion elsewhere). Well, that's fair enough.
[Feels an increased respect for the Entertainment.
First B.Must get their money back somehow, you know. Capital seats for hearing, these. Now, we'll just take a cup of coffee, and a quiet cigar, while we listen to the singing—you'll enjoy this,Iknow!
[With the air of a man who knows the whole thing by heart; the Waiter brings two tumblers of black coffee, for which he demands the sum of six francs; lively indignation of theTwo Britons,who denounce the charge as a swindle, and take some time to recover sufficient equanimity to attend to what is going on on the Stage.
FEMALE ARTISTE (SINGS REFRAIN).FEMALE ARTISTE (SINGS REFRAIN).
Female Artiste(sings refrain)—
Pour notre Exposition,Il faut nous faire imposition! &c., &c.
Second B.(who not being at home in the language, rather resents his companion's laughter). What's that she's saying?
First B.(who laughed because he knew there was a joke about the Exhibition). Eh?—oh! I'll tell you afterwards.
[Hopes his friend will have forgotten all about it by that time.
Second B.(pertinaciously, as the Singer kisses her hand, and rushes precipitately off stage). Well, what was allthatabout?
First B.(who, upon reflection, finds that he hasn't the faintest idea). Oh, nothing very much—more themanner, you know, than anything else—it's themenwho have all the really funny songs.
[A Male Artiste appears, bowing and kicking up his left leg behind: theFirst Britonbends forward with an anxious frown, determined to let nothing escape him this time. Fortunately, asM. Charlemagne,the Comic Singer, possesses a powerful voice, theFirst Britonis able to follow most of the words, from which, although they reach his ear in a somewhat perverted form, he contrives to extract intense amusement. This is how the Chanson reaches him:—
Seul boulevard silent vous arrête:Quand monde a tout départ n'amas,
[He can't quite make out this last word.
Repondez vitement—
[Something he doesn't catch.
Le fou l'eau sitôt vous crie "un rat!"
[Here he whispers to his friend that "That last line was rather neat."
Refrain(to whichM. Charlemagnedances a gavotte with his hat thrust into the small of his back).
Il n'a pas départ Dinard.
[This makes theFirst Briton—who once spent a week at Dinard—laugh immoderately.
Ne Pa, ne Ma! (bis)C'était pas tant, mais sais comme ça—Il n'a pas départ Dinard,Il non a pas certain-y-mal là!
First Briton(to Second Ditto).Veryfunny, isn't he?
Second B.(who—less fortunate than his friend—has not caught a single word). Um—can't say I see much in it myself.
First B.(compassionately). Can't you? Oh, you'll get into the way of it presently.
Second B.But what's the joke of all that about "Pa"?
First B.(who has been honestly under the impression that he did see a point somewhere). Why, he says he's an orphan—hasn't any Pa nor Ma.
Second B.(captiously). Well, there's nothing so very funny inthat!
First B.(giving up the point on consideration, asM. Charlemagneskips off). Oh, it's all nonsense, of course; these fellows only come on to fill up the time till Pôlusse sings (feels rather proud of having caught the right pronunciation). Pôlusse is the only one really worth listening to.
Second B.(watching two Niggers in a Knockabout Entertainment). I can followthesechaps better. [Complacently.
One of the Niggers[to the other]. Ha, George Washington, Sar. I'll warm you fur dat ar conduck!
First B.(in a superior manner). Oh, yes; you soon get into the accent.
[Later—M. Charlemagnehas re-appeared, and sung a song about changing his apartments, with spoken passages of a pronouncedly Parisian character.
First B.(who little suspects what he has been roaring with laughter at). That fellow reallyisamusing. I must take Nellie to hear him some night before we go back.
Second B.(dubiously). But aren't some of the songs—for a girl of her age—eh?
First B.My dear fellow, not a bit! I give you my word I haven't heard a single line yet that was in the least offensive—not a single line!Anybody might go! Look here—it's Pôlusse next; now you listen—he'llmake you laugh!
[The greatM. Paulusappears and sings several Chansons in a confidentially lugubrious tone, and with his forefingers thrust into his waistcoat pockets. Curiously enough, ourFirst Britonis less successful in followingM. Paulusthan he was with the Artistes who preceded him—but this is entirely owing to the big drum and cymbals, which will keep coming in and putting him out—something in this manner:—
M. Paulus.Et quand j'rentr', ce n'est pour rien—Ma belle me dit: "Mon pauv' bonhomme,Tu n'a pas l'air de"—(The cymbals: brim-brin-brien!)Ell' m' flanqu' des giffl's—(The drum: pom-pom-pom-pom!)Refrain(which both Britons understood)."Sur le bi—sur le bô; sur le bô, de bi, de bô.Sur le bô—sur le bi; sur le bi, de bô, de bi!" &c., &c., &c.
First Briton(after twenty minutes of this sort of thing). That's the end, I suppose. They've let down the curtain.Capital, wasn't he? I could listen to him all night!
Second B.(as they pass out). So could I—delightful! Don't know when I've enjoyed anything so much. The other people don't seem to be moving, though. (Consults programme.) There's another Part after this; Paulus is singing again. I suppose you'll stay?
First B.Well—it's rather late, isn't it?
Second B.(much relieved). Yes. Not worth while going back now (with a yawn). We must come here again.
First B.(making a mental resolution to return no more). Oh, we must; nothing like it on our side of the Channel, y' know.
Second B.(with secret gratitude). No, we can't do it. (Walk back to their hotel in a state of great mental exhaustion, and finish the evening with a bock on the Boulevards.)
Scene—A London Lawn. A Band in a costume half-way between the uniforms of a stage hussar and a circus groom, is performing under a tree. Guests discovered slowly pacing the turf, or standing and sitting about in groups.
Mrs. Maynard Gery(to herBrother-in-law—who is thoroughly aware of her little weaknesses). Oh, Phil,—you know everybody—dotell me! Who is that common-looking little man with the scrubby beard, and the very yellow gloves—how does he come to behere?
Phil.Where? Oh, I see him. Well—have you readSabrina's Uncle's Other Niece?
Mrs. M. G.No—oughtI to have? I never even heard of it!
Phil.Really? I wonder at that—tremendous hit—you must order it—though I doubt if you'll be able to get it.
Mrs. M. G.Oh, I shallinsiston having it. Andhewrote it? Really, Phil, now I come to look at him, there's something rather striking about his face. Did you saySabrina's Niece's Other Aunt—or what?
Phil.Sabrina's Uncle's Other Niecewas what Isaid—not that it signifies.
Mrs. M. G.Oh, but I always attach the greatest importance to names, myself. And do you know him?
Phil.What, Tablett? Oh, yes—decent little chap; not much to say for himself, you know.
Mrs. M. G.I don't mindthatwhen a man isclever—do you think you could bring him up and introduce him?
Phil.Oh, Icould—but I won't answer for your not being disappointed in him.
Mrs. M. G.I have never been disappointed in any geniusyet—perhaps, because I don't expect too much—so go, dear boy; he may be surrounded unless you get hold of him soon. [Philobeys.
Phil(accosting the Scrubby Man). Well, Tablett, old fellow, how are things going with you?Sabrinaflourishing?
Mr. Tablett(enthusiastically). It's a tremendous hit, my boy; orders coming in so fast they don't know how to execute 'em—there's a fortune in it, as I always told you!
Phil.Capital!—but you've such luck. By the way, my sister-in-law is most anxious to know you.
Mr. T.(flattered). Very kind of her. I shall be delighted. I was just thinking I felt quite a stranger here.
Phil.Come along then, and I'll introduce you. If she asks you to her parties by any chance, mind you go—sure to meet a lot of interesting people.
Mr. T.(pulling up his collar). Just what I enjoy—meeting interesting people—the only society worth cultivating, to my mind, Sir. Give meintellect—it's of more value than wealth!
[They go in search ofMrs. M. G.
First Lady on Chair.Look at the dear Vicar getting that poor Lady Pawperse an ice. What a very spiritual expression he has, to be sure—really quite apostolic!
Second Lady.We are not in his parish, but I have always heard him spoken of as a most excellent man.
First Lady.Excellent! My dear, that man is a perfectSaint! I don't believe he knows what it is to have a single worldly thought! And such trials as he has to bear, too! With thatdreadfulwife of his!
Second Lady.That's the wife, isn't it?—the dowdy little woman, all alone, over there? Dear me, whatcouldhe have married her for?
First Lady.Oh, for hermoneyof course, my dear!
Mrs. Pattallon(toMrs. St. Martin Somerville). Why, it reallyisyou! I absolutely didn't know you at first. I was just thinking"Now whoisthat young and lovely person coming along the path?" You see—I came out without my glasses to-day, which accounts for it!
Mr. Chuck(meeting a youthful Matron and Child). Ah, Mrs. Sharpe, how de do!I'mall right. Hullo,Toto, how areyou, eh, young lady?
Toto(primly). I'm very well indeed, thank you. (With sudden interest.) How's the idiot? Have you seen him lately?
Mr. C.(mystified). The idiot, eh? Why, fact is, I don'tknowany idiot!—give you my word!
Toto(impatiently). Yes, youdo—youknow. The one Mummy says you're next door to—you must see himsometimes! Youdidsay Mr. Chuck was next door to an idiot, didn't you, Mummy? [Tableau.
Mrs. Prattleton.Let me see—didwe have a fine Summer in '87? Yes, of course—I always remember the weather by the clothes we wore, and that June and July we wore scarcely anything—some filmy stuff that belonged to one's ancestress, don't you know.Suchfun! By the way, what has become of Lucy?
Mrs. St. Patticker.Oh, I've quite lost sight of her lately—you see she's so perfectly happy now, that she's ceased to be in the least interesting!
Mrs. Hussiffe(toMr. De Mure). Perhapsyoucan tell me of a good coal merchant? The people who supply me now are perfectfiends, and I really must go somewhere else.
Mr. de Mure.Then I'm afraid you must be rather difficult to please.
Mr. Tabletthas been introduced toMrs. Maynard Gery—with the following result.
Mrs. M. G.(enthusiastically). I'm so delighted to make your acquaintance. When my brother-in-law told me who you were, I positively very nearly shrieked. I am such an admirer of your—(thinks she won't commit herself to the whole title—and so compounds)—your delightfulSabrina!
Mr. T.Most gratified to hear it, I'm sure. I'm told there's a growing demand for it.
Mrs. M. G.Such a hopeful sign—when one was beginning quite to despair of the public taste!
Mr. T.Well, I've always said—So long as you give the Public a really first-rate article, and are prepared to spend any amount of money onpushingit, you know, you're sure to see a handsome return for your outlay—in the long run. And of course you must get it carefully analysed by competent judges—
Mrs. M. G.Ah, butyoucan feel independent of criticism now, can't you?
Mr. T.Oh, I defy any one to find anything unwholesome in it—it's as suitable for the most delicate child as it is for adults—nothing to irritate the most sensitive—
Mrs. M. G.Ah, you mean certain critics are so thin-skinned—they are: indeed!
Mr. T.(warming to his subject). But the beauty of this particular composition is that it causes absolutely no unpleasantness or inconvenience afterwards. In some cases, indeed, it acts like a charm. I've known of two cases of long-standing erysipelas it has completely cured.
Mrs. M. G.(rather at sea). How gratifying that must be. But that is the magic of all truly great work, it is such ananodyne—it takes people so completely out of themselves—doesn't it?
Mr. T.It takes anything of that sort out ofthem, Ma'am. It's the finest discovery of the age, no household will be without it in a few months—though perhaps I say it who shouldn't.
Mrs. M. G.(still more astonished). Oh, but Iliketo hear you. I'm so tired of hearing people pretending to disparage what they have done, it's such apose, and I hate posing. Real genius isnevermodest. (If he had been more retiring, she would have, of course, reversed this axiom.) Iwishyou would come and see me on one of my Tuesdays,Mr. Tablett, I should feel so honoured, and I think you would meet some congenial spirits—do look in some evening—I will send you a card if I may—let me see—could you come and lunch next Sunday? I've got a little man coming who was very nearly eaten up by cannibals. I thinkhewould interest you.
Mr. T.I shall be proud to meet him. Er—did they eatmuchof him?
Mrs. M. G.(who privately thinks this rather vulgar). Howwittyyou are! That's quite worthy of—er—Sabrina, really! Then youwillcome? So glad. And now I mustn't keep you from your other admirers any longer.
[She dismisses him.
LATER.
Mrs. M. G.(to herBrother-in-law). Howcouldyou say that dear Mr. Tablett wasdull, Phil? I found him perfectly charming—so original and unconventional! He's promised to come to me. By the way,whatdid you say the name of his book was?
Phil.Inever said he had written a book.
Mrs. M. G.Phil—youdid!—Sabrina's Other—Something.Why, I've beenpraisingit to him, entirely on your recommendation.
Phil.No, no—yourmistake. I only asked you if you'd readSabrina's Uncle's Other Niece, and, as I made up the title on the spur of the moment, I should have been rather surprised if you had.Henever wrote a line in his life.
Mrs. M. G.Howabominableof you! But surely he's famous forsomething? He talks like it. [With reviving hope.
Phil.Oh, yes, he's the inventor and patentee of the new "Sabrina" Soap—he says he'll make a fortune over it.
Mrs. M. G.But he hasn't even donethatyet!Phil, I'llneverforgive you for letting me make such an idiot of myself. WhatamI to do now? Ican'thave him coming to me—he's really too impossible!
Phil.Do? Oh, order some of the soap, and wash your hands of him, I suppose—not that he isn't a good deal more presentable than some of your lions, after all's said and done!
[Mrs. M. G.,before she takes her leave, contrives to informMr. Tablett,with her prettiest penitence, that she has only just recollected that her luncheon party is put off, and that her Tuesdays are over for the Season. Directly she returns to Town, she promises to let him hear from her; in the meantime, he is not to think of troubling himself to call. So there is no harm done, after all.
Scene—The Agricultural Hall. Tent-pegging going on.
Stentorian Judge(in Arena). Corporal Binks! (The Assistants give a finishing blow to the peg, and fall back.CorporalBinksgallops in, misses the peg, and rides off, relieving his feelings by whirling his lance defiantly in the air.) Corporal Binks—nothing!
A Gushing Lady.Poor dear thing! Idowish he'd struck it! He did look so disappointed, and so did that sweet horse!
The Judge.Sergeant Spanker! (Sergeant S.gallops in, spears the peg neatly, and carries it off triumphantly on the point of the lance, after which he rides back and returns the peg to the Assistants as a piece of valuable property of which he has accidentally deprived them.) Sergeant Spanker—eight! (Applause; the Assistants drive in another peg.) Corporal Cutlash! (Corporal C.enters, strikes the peg, and dislodges without securing it. Immense applause from the Crowd.) Corporal Cutlash—two!
The Gushing Lady.Only two, and when he really did hit the peg! I do call that a shame. I should have given him more marks than the other man—he has such amuchnicer face!
A Child with a Thirst for Information.Uncle, why do they call ittent-pegging?
The Uncle.Why? Well, because those pegs are what they fasten down tents with.
The Child.But why isn't there a tent now?
Uncle.Because there's no use for one.
Child.Why?
Uncle.Because all they want to do is to pick up the peg with the point of their lance.
Child.Yes, but whyshouldthey want to do it?
Uncle.Oh, to amuse their horses. (TheChildponders upon this answer with a view to a fresh catechism upon the equine passion for entertainment, and the desirability, or otherwise, of gratifying it.)
A Chatty Man in the Promenade(to hisNeighbour). Takes a deal of practice to strike them pegs fair and full.
His Neighbour(who holds advanced Socialistic opinions). Ah, I dessay—and a pity they can't make no better use o' their time! Spoiling good wood,Icall it. I don't see no point in it myself.
The Chatty Man.Well, it shows they canride, at any rate.
The Socialist.Ride? O' course they canride—we pay enough for 'aving 'em taught, don't we? But you mark my words, the People won't put up with this state of things much longer—keepin' a set of 'ired murderers in luxury and hidleness. I tell yer, wherever I come across one of these great lanky louts strutting about in his red coat, as if he was one of the lords of the hearth, well—it makes my nose bleed, ah—itdoes!
The Chatty Man.If that's the way you talk to him, I ain't surprised if it do.
The Judge.SwordversusSword! Come in there! (Two mounted Combatants, in leather jerkins and black visors, armed with swordsticks, enter the ring;Judgeintroduces them to audience with the aid of a flag.) CorporalJones, of the Wessex Yeomanry; SergeantSmith, of the Manx Mounted Infantry. (Their swords are chalked by the Assistants.) Are you ready? Left turn! Countermarch! Engage! (The Combatants wheel round and face one another, each vigorously spurring his horse and prodding cautiously at the other; the two horses seem determined not to be drawn into the affair themselves on any account, and take no personal interest in the conflict; the umpires skip and dodge at the rear of the horses, until one of the Combatants gets in with a rattling blow on the other's head, to the intense delight of audience. Both men are brushed down, and their weapons re-chalked, whereupon they engage once more—much to the disgust of their horses, who had evidently been hoping it was all over. After the contest is finally decided, a second pair of Combatantsenter; one is mounted on a black horse, the other on a chestnut, who refuses to lend himself to the business on any terms, and bolts on principle; while the rider of the black horse remains in stationary meditation.) Go on—that black horse—go on! (The chestnut is at length brought up to the scratch snorting, but again flinches, and retires with his rider.)
The Crowd(to rider of black horse). Go on, now's your chance! 'It him! (The recipient of these counsels pursues his antagonist, and belabours him and his horse with impartial good-will until separated by the Umpires, who examine the chalk-marks with a professional scrutiny.)
The Judge.Here, you on the black horse, you mustn't hit that other horse about the head. (The man addressed appears rebuked and surprised under his black-wired visor.)The Judge(reassuringly). It's allright, you know; only, don't do it again, that's all! (The Combatant sits up again.)
The Gushing Lady.Oh, I can't bear to look on, really. I'msurethey oughtn't to hit so hard—howtheir poor dear heads must ache! Isn't that chestnut aduck? I'm sure he's trying to save his master from getting hurt—they're such sensible creatures, horses are! (Artillery teams drive in, and gallop between the posts; the Crowd going frantic with delight when the posts remain upright, and roaring with laughter when one is knocked over.)
DURING THE MUSICAL RIDE.
The Gushing Lady.Oh, they're simply toosweet! How those horses are enjoying it—aren't they pets? and how perfectly they keep step to the music, don't they?
Her Friend.(who is beginning to get a trifle tired by her enthusiasm). Yes; but then they're all trained by Madame Katti Lanner, of Drury Lane, you see.
The Gushing Lady.What pains she must have taken with them; but you can teach a horseanything, can't you?
Her Friend.Oh, that's nothing; next year they're going to have a horse who'll dance the Highland Fling.
The Socialist.A pretty sight? Cost a pretty sight o' the People'smoney, I know that. Tomfoolery, that's what it is; a set of dressed-up bullies dancin' quadrilles on 'orseback;thatain't military manoeuvrin'. It's sickenin' the way fools applaud such goin's on. And cuttin' off the Saracen's 'ed, too; I'd call it plucky if the Saracen 'ad a gun in his 'and. Bah, I 'ate the 'ole business!
His Neighbour.Got anybody along with you, Mate?
The Socialist.No, I don't want anybody along withme, I don't.
His Neighbour.That's a pity, that is. A sweet-tempered, pleasant-spoken party like you are oughtn't to go about by yourself. You ought to bring somebody just to enjoy your conversation. There don't seem to be anybody'ereof your way of thinkin'.
DURING THE COMBINED DISPLAY.
The Gushing Lady(as the Cyclist Corps enter). Oh, they've got adogwith them. Do look—such a dear! See, they've tied a letter round his neck. He'll come back with an answer presently. (But, there being apparently no answer to this communication, the faithful but prudent animal does not re-appear.)
AFTER THE PERFORMANCE.
The Inquisitive Child.Uncle, which side won?
UNCLE.I suppose the side that advanced across the bridges.
Child.Which sidewouldhave won if it had been arealbattle?
Uncle.I really couldn't undertake to say, my boy.
Child.But which do youthinkwould have won?
Uncle.I suppose the side that fought best.
Child.But which side wasthat? (TheUnclebegins to find that the society of an intelligent Nephew entails too severe a mental strain to be frequently cultivated.)
Scene—An Open Space. Rain falling in torrents. An Indignation Meeting is being held to protest against the Royal Grants. The Chairman presides at a small portable reading-desk, generally alluded to as The "Nostrum"; a ring of more or less Earnest Radicals, under umbrellas, surround him. Speakers address the Meeting in rapid succession; a Man with a red flag gives it a sinister wave at any particularly vigorous expression. Her Gracious Majesty the Queen is repeatedly described as "this mis-rubble ole bein'," an Archbishop is invariably mentioned as an "Arch-rogue," while the orators and the audience appear from their remarks to be the only persons capable of worthily guiding this unhappy Country's destinies. Policemen in couples look on from a distance and smile indulgently.
An Orator(bitterly). The weather is against us, Feller Republikins, there's no denyin' that. As we were tramping along 'ere, through the mud and in the rain, wet to the skin, I couldn't 'elp remarking to a friend o' mine, that if it had been a pidging-shootin' match at Urlingham, or a Race-meeting at Hascot, things 'ud ha' been diff'rent! Ther'd ha' bin blue sky and sunshine enoughthen. Well, I 'spose hany weather's considered good enough for the likes of hus! Hany weather'll do for pore downtrod slaves to assert their man'ood and their hindependence in! (Cries of "Shame!") Never you mind—hour turn'll come some day! We sha'n'thalwaysbe 'eld down, and muzzled, and silenced, and prevented uttering the hindignation we've a right to feel! (Bellowing.) We shall make our vices 'eard one day! But I'm reminded by my friend as I've got to keep to the pint. Well (he composes his features into a sneer) I'mtold as 'ow 'Er Most Gracious Madjesty—("Booing" from Earnest Radicals)—'Er Most Gracious Madjesty—'as she calls 'erself—'as put by a little matter of a millum an' a 'arf—since she came to the Throne. Now, Feller Republikins, that millum an' a 'arf 'as come out ofyourpockets!
Several Persons(who do not look as if they paid a heavy income tax). 'Ear 'ear!
Orator.Yes, it belongs to the People—ah! and you've a legal right to demand it back—a legalright! And I arsk you—if that millum and a 'arf of money was to be divided among the Toilers of London ter-morrow—'ow many Hunemployed should we see? (Crowd deeply impressed by this forcible argument.) Yet we're arst to put our 'ands in our pockets to support the Queen's children!
A Gentleman with very short hair.Shame—never! [Puts his hand in somebody else's pocket by way of emphasising his declaration.]
Orator.Feller Republikins, if a Queen don't do the work as she's paid for doin' of, what ought to be done with 'er? I put it toyou!
A Very Earnest Radical.The Scaffild!
[Looks round nervously to see if a Policeman is within hearing.
A Fat Lady(who has been ejaculating. "Oh, it is a shime, it is!" at every fresh instance of Royal expenditure). Well, I must say that'sratherstrong langwidge!
Another Orator.Gentlemen, I regret to say that, on this monstrous fraud and attempted imposition known as "The Royal Grants Bill," Mr. Gladstone voted with the Government. [Frantic applause.
Orator(puzzled). Yes, Gentlemen, I am here to state facts, and I am ashamed to say, that on this single occasion Mr. Gladstone—went wrong. [Shouts of "No! No!"
A Fervid Gladstonian(waving his umbrella). Three cheers for Mr. Gladstone, what-heverhe does!
[TheCrowdjoin in heartily;Oratordecides to drop the point, particularly as it does not seem to affect the Meeting's condemnation of the principle of the Bill.
An Irish Patriot.I've often harrd tell, Gintlemen, of a certain stra-ange animal they carl a "Conservative Warkin-Man" (Roars oflaughter). A Warkin-Man a Conservative! Why, bliss me sowl, the thing's absurd! There niverwassuch a purrson in this Warld. A Conservative Warkin-Man! why—(takes refuge in profanity). If there was why don't we iver hear 'um in an assimbly of this sort? Why hasn't he the common manly courage to come forward and defind his opinions?We'dhear 'um, Gintlemen. It's the proud boast of Radicals and Republikins that they'd give free speech and a fair hearin' to ivery man, no matter hwhat his opinions are, but ye'll niver see 'um stip farward at ahl—and hwhy?
A Decent Mechanic.Well, look 'ere, mate,I'ma Conservative Working-Man, if ye'd like to know, and I ain't afraid to defend my opinions. Come now!
The Chairman(somewhat taken aback). Well, Friends, while I conduct this chair, I can promise this man a puffickly fair 'earin', and I'm sure you will listen to him patiently, whatever you may think of his arguments. (Cries of 'Ear—'ear! "Fair play hall the world hover!" "We'll listen to him quiet enough!") First of all, I must be satisfied that our Friend is what he professes to be. We want no Sham Workin'-men'ere. [Brandishes a foot-rule in evidence of the genuineness of his own claims.
The D. M.Am I a workin'-man? Well, I've made ladies' boots at sixpence an hour for three years—d'ye call that bein' a Workin' Man? I've soled and 'eeled while you wait in a stall near Southwark Bridge seven years an' a arf! Praps you'll callthata Workin'-Man? (Cries of "Keep to the Point!") Oh, I'll keep to the point right enough. There's this Irishman here been a tellin' of you 'ow wrong it is to turn his countrymen out of their 'ouses when they don't pay their rent. Ain'tweturned out of our 'ouses, if we don't pay ourn? 'Oo snivels overhus?
The I. P.No personalities now! It's my belief ye're a Landlord yerself! [Uproar.
The D. M.Itoldyer ye wouldn't 'ear me now!
A Socialist(in a stentorian voice). Feller Demmercrats, as an ex-Fenian and an ex-Convict, I implore you—give this man a hearin'!
The D. M.Then about this Royal Grant. (Cries of "Shut up!" "Go 'ome!" "Don't tork nonsense!") If you're going to 'ave a King andQueen at all—(Cries of "We ain't! Down with 'em!") Ah, then I s'pose you're going to put up fellers like 'im (pointing to the Socialist), and 'im (pointing to Chairman), and 'im! [Uproar.