060 A FIRST VISIT TO THE NAVERIES." "SHIVER my timbers!" said the Scribe. "Haul down my yard-arm with a marling-spike!" cried the Artist. And with these strictly nautical expressions, two of Mr. Punch's Own entered the Royal Naval Exhibition, which now occupies the larger portion of the grounds of the Military Hospital, Chelsea. That so popular a show should be allowed to occupy so large a site speaks wonders for the amiability of the British Public. When the Sodgeries appeared last year, it was, so to speak, with fear and trembling that the powers that were" appropriated a little of the ground usually over-run by the Nobility and Gentry of the Pimlico Road and its vicinity; or, rather, by their haughty offspring. This year the tough old sea-dogs of the Admiralty have had no hesitation in taking what they required, apparently without causing comment, much less objection. And the result? In lieu of the dusty arena of 1890, scarcely large enough for a ladies' cricket-match, there appears in 1891 an enclosure containing lakes and lighthouses, panoramas, and full-size models of menof-war! And the Public take their exclusion philosophically, either paying their shillings at the door, or attempting to get a view of the hoofs of the nautical horses through the gaps in the surrounding hoardings. THIS WAY OUTIN a aaa o oo o 40 hero expected every Englishman (not excluding even those passing the Custom House-as the Committee would say) "to do his duty." To make the illusion complete, the great sea-captain was observed dying in the cock-pit in the agonies of wax. And to think that this work was executed by a firm of house-decorators! Why, who would not, after this, have his back drawing-room converted into the quarter-deck of the Shannon, and his spare bed-room into a tiny reproduction of the Battle of Copenhagen!" Mr. Punch's Representatives, after partaking of Chelsea The Scribe and the Artist, having been ordered by He Who Must Be Obeyed in the world generally, and at 85, Fleet Street, in particular, to make a sort of preliminary cruise through the wonders of the (Admiralty) Deep, hastened from the inviting grounds into the main building, with its pictures, its plans, and last, but (it is only just to say) least, its pickles. The first object that attracted their favourable attention was a trophy of arms, representing the fashions of the past and the present. On one side were shrapnel and magazine rifles, on the other flint-locks and the ordnance of an age long gone by. Next they passed through the Arctic section, wherein they found dummies drawing a sledge through the canvas snow of a corded-off North Pole. Then they entered the Picture Galleries called after NELSON and BENBOW, wherein magnificent paintings by POWELL, full of smoke and action, served as an appropriate background to the collection of plate, lent by that gallant sailor-warrior and industrious collector of well-considered trifles, H.R.H. the Duke of EDINBURGH. They glanced at the relics of Trafalgar, and then hurried away to the Howe Gallery, which, containing as it did specimens of the implements used in the game of golf, might have as appropriately been christened the WHEREFORE. Next they skirted a corridor full of plans, and here they discovered that the Committee of the Exhibition must be wags, every Jack Tar of them! This corridor was close to the Dining-rooms, and the Committee (ha! ha ha!) had called it (he! he he!) after Cook! (Ho! ho! ho!) Oh, the wit of it! How the Members of the Executive must have nudged one another in the ribs as the quaint idea dawned upon them! And how they must have laughed, too, on the Opening Day, when the Guard of Honour, presenting arms, and the "Greenwich Boys" singing "Ye Mariners of England," were drenched in the rain! And what a capital notion it was on that occasion to put "the Representatives of the Fourth Estate" (no doubt called by them, with many a sly twinkle of the eye, "the Press Gang") into a pen that soon, thanks to a series of water-spouts, assumed the appearance of a tank! 66 The Scribe and the Artist, on their visit, were invited by all sorts and conditions of men to partake of champagne. The moment it was discovered that they were I connected with the Press," the offerers of hospitality were absolutely overwhelming. But, obeying the best traditions of their order, they sternly, but courteously, refused all refreshment. It is fortunate they pursued this course, for had they received the entirely disinterested kindness of their would-be hosts, their recollections of the marvels of the Royal Naval Exhibition would no doubt have been of the haziest character imaginable. As it was, they were able to take their departure through the main entrance with some show of dignity, and not in a less imposing manner (as the Committee-Cook's Gallery near the Dining-rooms-ho! ho! ho! ha! ha! ha!-would probably and amusingly suggest), by Tite Street. AMONG THE IMMORTALS. MR. PUNCH Would be failing in his duty to Art and the British Public if he did not place on imperishable record his notes of the exceptionally brilliant Royal Academy Banquet of last Saturday. H.R.H. the Prince of WALES made one of his best and briefest speeches, in which he feelingly alluded to the late Sir EDGAR ВоËHм, R.A. Never was the President, Sir FREDERICK, more eloquent, or his themes more varied; for this occasion is noteworthy as being the first time in the history of this great annual representative gathering that the toast of Music and the Drama has been duly honoured. Sir ARTHUR SULLIVAN responded for the first, and HENRY IRVING for the second. Both made excellent speeches. Sir ARTHUR's solo was most effective; his notes were in his head; he gave us several variations on the original theme, and cleverly played upon one word in saying that music had been "instrumental" on various historical occasions. HENRY IRVING followed suit; he spoke of Mrs. SIDDONS, Sir JOSHUA REYNOLDS, and of a professional gentleman mentioned, we believe, by Hamlet as having been. some considerable time ago, a man of parts," that is an Actor. in Rome. It was a great success. Sir FREDERICK then proposed the LORD MAYOR, which may be briefly expressed as "a toast with a Savory to follow." For "The Visitors," Lord Justice BowEN, catching sight of the President's classical picture (No. 232), made a happy hit about the delights of a honeymoon in the Infernal Regions, ending in the return of Ceres to her mother by order of the Court above. Finally, the President, in summing up the losses to Art during the past year, paid a graceful tribute to the memory of CHARLES KEENE, who, but a short while ago, was our fellow-worker on the staff of Mr. Punch. With a hopeful allusion to the Storage of Artistic Force in the near future, the President concluded; but this Banquet of 1891 will long live in the recollection of all whose privilege it was to be present on so memorable an occasion. 66 MUSICAL NOTES. I SAY! YSAYE! Why say? Why not say that YSAYE is a grand Yolinist, since he is this; and, as 'ARRY would observe, "No error !" and whoever says the contrary, is not speaking the absolute truth, but "Ysaye Worsay." The Yolinist had the advantage of the co-operation of a fine Orchestra, under the Magic Wand of Conductor COWEN. After leaving the Galleries, the Scribe and the Artist looked up at the model of Eddystone Lighthouse, and entered a shed declared to be an "Arctic Scene." Here they were reminded by the introduced ship of those happy days of their boyhood spent in the toy-shops of the Lowther Arcade. Next they visited the Panorama of Trafalgar, and revelled in the carnage of a sea-fight that only required Margate in the distance to be entirely convincing. They glanced at the arena, and gazed with awe at the lake which is to be devoted to the manoeuvring of miniature ironclads. It will be interesting to note whether these mimic combats will hold their own in the coming season against the introduction of capsized clowns, drenched old women, and comic police. Keeping the best for the last, the Scribe and the Artist now entered the model of the Victory-a really admirable exhibition. There they saw before them the old battle-ship with its full equipment, as it was in the days of NELSON-when that deathless "Collarable Imitations." 66 On the 27th, Heard young JEAN GERARDY, Little boy, but player hardy, Not the slightest Lardy-Dardy, Not yet out of care of Guardy," "Heard him Lundi, not on Mardi, But, whene'er he plays, your Bardy, Always spry, and never tardy, Will again hear JEAN GERARDY. GENERAL SUMMARY OF CARICATURES OF MR. GLADSTONE.— 1 Aurora now may "throw her faire Are not as in the days of HERRICK. Flora at urban revelry. See how the goddess trippeth from the West, Whenas a hundred Shows upon this day straying, And the brine greets us as we go a-Maying. And her we give May-welcome, nothing loth, To France, Spain, Italy! War hath riven Many true hearts, but we're content Of Peace to make experiment. Blow Teuton horn-(not like 66 braying!) Hernani's" It makes new music as we go a-Maying! Come, let us go, while May is in its prime, And make the best of the brief Season's time. HERRICK'S CORINNA might not see An Urban May Queen such as we! Behold disport in our rare sun. Rouse, Nymph! The Season is begun! We'll trust no blizzard, and no boreal rain May mar "Our Opening Day." Sound flutes again! THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID. Painter. "WOULD YOU BELIEVE IT? THIS IS THE PICTURE THEY'VE THOUGHT PROPER TO REJECT I'LL BE SO BOLD AS TO SAY, THERE ARE NOT TWENTY BETTER IN THE WHOLE EXHIBITION!" Friend. "DEAR ME! IS IT SUCH A POOR ACADEMY AS THAT?" Pipe, Sir FREDERICK! Ah, well played! Tootle thy new strains, fair Maid. Blow, oh Briny One, with might! Teuton BRUNEHILD, glad our sight! Fashion's Floralia, Nymph, invite our straying; Come, my ČORINNA, come; let's go a-Maying! THE HUMOUR O'T! (Namely of Parliament, as seen through Harry Furniss's fancy.) AIR-"The Wooing o't." LIKA JOKO makes us laugh, Hal ha! the humour o't! Humph! humph! the humour o't! BALFOUR, pet of the Green Isle, Humph! humph! the humour o't! He! he the humour o 't! All-from Prayers to "Who goes Home?" Humph! humph! the humour o 't! Ha ha! the humour o't! Humph! humph! the humour o't! WHY doesn't some Musical Photographic for his fellow Professors and Practisers, and Artist of Scotch Nationality compose a March call it "The March of the Camera Men"? Sure to be popular. AN UN-" COMMON" GOOD HORSE.-The Winner of this Year's Two Thousand. MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. (Condensed and Revised Version by Mr. P.'s Own Harmless Ibsenite.) No. III.-HEDDA GABLER. ACT. III. SCENE.-The same Room, but-it being evening-darker than everThe crape curtains are drawn. A Servant, with black ribbons in her cap, and red eyes, comes in and lights the gas quietly and carefully. Chords are heard on the piano in the back Drawing-room. Presently HEDDA comes in and looks out into the darkness. A short pause. Enter GEORGE TESMAN. George. I am so uneasy about poor LÖVBORG. Fancy! he is not at home. Mrs. ELVSTED told me he had been here early this morning, so I suppose you gave him back his manuscript, eh? Hedda (cold and immovable, supported by arm-chair). No, I put it on the fire instead. George. On the fire! LövBORG's wonderful new book that he read to me at BRACK's party, when we had that wild revelry last night! Fancy that! But, I say, HEDDA-isn't that rather-eh? Too bad, you know-really. A great work like that. How on earth did you come to think of it ? Hedda (suppressing an almost imperceptible smile). Well, dear GEORGE, you gave me a tolerably strong hint. George. Me? Well, to be sure-that is a joke! Why, I only said that I envied him for writing such a book, and it would put me entirely in the shade if it came out, and if anything was to happen to it, I should never forgive myself, as poor LÖVBORG couldn't write it all over again, and so we must take the greatest care of it! And then I left it on a chair and went away -that was all! And you went and burnt the book all up! Bless me, who would have expected it ? Hedda. Nobody, you dear simple old soul! George (in an outburst between doubt and joy). HEDDA, you don't mean that! Your love takes such queer forms sometimes. Yes, but yes-(laughing in excess. of joy), why, you must be fond of me! Just think of that now! Well, you are fun, HEDDA! Look here, I must just run and tell the housemaid that-she will enjoy the joke so, eh? Hedda (coldly, in self-command). It is surely not necessary, even for a clever Norwegian man of letters in a realistic social drama, to make quite such a fool of himself as all that? George. Fancy! I will dedicate my life-or all I can spare of it-to the task. I seem to feel I owe him some slight amends, perhaps. No use crying over spilt milk, eh, Mrs. ELVSTED? We'll sit down-just you and I-in the back drawing-room, and see if you can't inspire me as you did him, eh ? Mrs. E. Oh, goodness, yes! I should like it-if it only might be possible! [GEORGE and Mrs. E. go into the back Drawing-room and become absorbed in eager conversation; HEDDA sits in a chair in the front room, and a little later BRACK crosses over to her. Hedda (in a low tone). Oh, Judge, what a relief to know that everything-including LöOVBORG's pistol-went off so well! In the breast! Isn't there a veil of unintentional beauty in that? Such an act of voluntary courage, too! Brack (smiles). Hm-perhaps, dear Mrs. HEDDA- Hedda (enthusiastically). But wasn't it sweet of him! To have the courage to live his own life after his own fashion-to break away from the banquet of life-so early and so drunk! A beautiful act like that does appeal to a superior woman's imagination! Brack. Sorry to shatter your poetical illusions, little Mrs. HEDDA, "What! the accounts of all those everlasting bores settled?" George. No, that's true too. Perhaps we'd better keep it quiet-though I must tell Aunt JULIE-it will make her so happy to hear that you burnt a manuscript on my account! And, besides, I should like to ask her whether that's a usual thing with young wives. (Looks uneasy and pensive again.) But poor old EJLERT's manuscript! Oh Lor, you know! Well, well! [Mrs. ELVSTED comes in. Mrs. E. Oh, please, I'm so uneasy about dear Mr. LövBORG. Something has happened to him, I'm sure! Judge Brack (comes in from the hall, with a new hat in his hand). You have guessed it, first time. Something has! Mrs. E. Oh, dear, good gracious! What is it? Something distressing, I'm certain of it! [Shrieks aloud. Brack (pleasantly). That depends on how one takes it. He has shot himself, and is in a hospital now, that's all! George (sympathetically). That's sad, eh? poor old LövBORG! Well, I am cut up to hear that. Fancy, though, eh? Hedda. Was it through the temple, or through the breast? The breast? Well, one can do it beautifully through the breast, too. Do you know, as an advanced woman, I like an act of that sort-it's so positive, to have the courage to settle the account with himselfit's beautiful, really! but, as a matter of fact, our lamented friend met his end under other circumstances. The shot did not strike him in the breast-but[Pauses. Hedda (excitedly). General GABLER'S pistols! I might have known it! Did they ever shoot straight? Where was he hit, then ? Brack (in a discreet undertone). A little lower down! Hedda. Oh, how disgusting! - how vulgar!-how ridiculous!-like everything else about me! Brack. Yes, we're realistic types of human nature, and all that-but a trifle squalid, perhaps. And why did you give LOVBORG your pistol, when it was certain to be traced by the police ? For a charming cold-blooded woman with a clear head and no scruples, wasn't it just a leetle foolish? Hedda. Perhaps; but I wanted him to do it beautifully, and he didn't! Oh, I've just admitted that I did give him the pistol-how annoyingly unwise of me! Now I'm in your power, I suppose? Brack. Precisely for some reason it's not easy to understand. But it's inevitable, and you know how you dread anything approaching scandal. All your past proceedings show that. (To GEORGE and Mrs. E., who come in together from the back-room.) Well, how are you getting on with the reconstruction of poor LÖVBORG's great work, eh? George. Capitally; we've made out the first two parts already. And really, HEDDA, I do believe Mrs. ELVSTED is inspiring me; I begin to feel it coming on. Fancy that! Mrs. E. Yes, goodness! mean to try so hard! Hedda. Do, you dear little silly rabbit; and while you are trying I will go into the back drawing-room and lie down. HEDDA, won't it be lovely if I can. I Mrs. E. Oh, HEDDA, what an odd way to look at it! But never mind poor dear Mr. LÖVBORG now. What we've got to do is to see if we can't put his wonderful manuscript, that he said he had torn to pieces, together again. (Takes a bundle of small pages out of the I pocket of her mantle.) There are the loose scraps he dictated it to me from. I hid them on the chance of some such emergency. And dear Mr. TESMAN and I were to put our heads together, I do think something might come of it. [She goes into the back-room and draws the curtains. Short pause. Suddenly she is heard playing "The Bogie Man" within on the piano. George. But, dearest HEDDA, don't play "The Bogie Man" this evening. As one of my aunts is dead, and poor old LÖVBORG has shot himself, it seems just a little pointed, eh? Hedda (puts her head out between the curtains). All right! I'll be quiet after this. I'm going to practise with the late General CABLER's pistol! [Closes the curtains again; GEORGE gets behind the stove, Judge BRACK under the table, and Mrs. ELVSTED under the sofa. A shot is heard within. George (behind the stove). Eh, look here, I tell you what-she's hit me! Think of that! [His legs are visibly agitated for a short time. Another shot is heard. Mrs. E. (under the sofa). Oh, please, not me! Oh, goodness, now can't inspire anybody any more. Oh! [Her feet, which can be seen under the valance, quiver a little, and then are suddenly still. Brack (vivaciously, from under the table). I say, Mrs. HEDDA, I'm coming in every evening-we will have great fun here togeth (Another shot is heard.) Bless me! to bring down the poor old cockof-the-walk-it's unsportsmanlike!-it's-. [The table-cloth is violently agitated for a minute, and presently the curtains open, and HEDDA appears. Hedda (clearly and firmly). I've been trying in there to shoot myself beautifully-but with General GABLER's pistol- (She lifts the tablecloth, then looks behind the stove and under the sofa.) What! the accounts of all those everlasting bores settled? Then my suicide becomes unnecessary. Yes, I feel the courage of life once more! [She goes into the back-room and plays "The Funeral March of a Marionette" as the Curtain falls. THE END (with the usual apologies). OPERATIC NOTES. Monday-Le Prophete.-Notable performance. Profit to those who were there; loss to those who weren't. The two Poles, NED and JOHN DE RESZKÉ, excellent as the Tipster, or Prophet, and the Chief Anabaptist Swindler. Madame RICHARD "ORichard, Oma Reine!" repeated her grand impersonation of Fides, but being a trifle "out of it" as to tune occasionally, I cannot be Fidei Defensor, and swear she was quite correct, so can only report that RICHARD was a bit "dicky"; otherwise, sings like a Dicky - Bird. Cathedral Scene magnificent. Rites are wrong, probably; but these are trifles, except to strict ritualists. Skating Scene not up to date; it was a novelty once upon a time, but rinks have AN AGRICULTURAL TRIPOS. PRELIMINARY EXAMINATION PAPER. 66 REPARTEE TO A SPOUSE. BOTH parties in the recent extraordinary abduction case, where a Mrs. JONES was carried off down a rope-ladder at midnight by her own husband, Mr. JONES, have published statements defending their own line of conduct. The following is Mrs. JONES's version:called-husband's side, as far as I can gather from my having been As public opinion appears to have erroneously taken my-soseparate attempts having been made to blow up my house with twice chased through the streets by an infuriated mob, and four nitro-glycerine, I feel compelled to explain-with much reluctancewhy it was that I declined to live with Mr. JONES. "To begin with, it was only under the most awful threats that Mr. JONES prevailed on me to become his wife. His words-I remember them well-were, 'My darling, you know how tenderly I adore you ; if you don't marry me at once I'll break every bone in your body! He then snatched my bonnet, a new one, from my head, and so acted on my nerves that I went off to the Registry Office and was married. That he was actuated by merely mercenary motives is proved by the fact that the gratuity (of half-a-crown), which he presented to the Registry Clerk, he actually borrowed from me! I knew him already to be unprincipled; but never until that moment had it flashed upon me that he was a fortune-hunter! However, as he had the drawingroom poker with him-he kept it concealed up his back during the ceremony at the Registry Office-I did not at that time say anything, but handed him the coin. I do not know if I should have left him at once, had he not aggravated the baseness of his conduct by using the vulgar expression, Fork it out quick!' But I regret to say that his origin is painfully low. Whereas, anybody who consults my relatives will hear from them that they belong to the very highest County Families. Indeed, he would hear it all day long if he lived with them, as I do! "béviam"I Excellent. 1. A FIELD is ploughed three years running. Can it still have a shy at its little go? Examine this, and say all you know about "PIERS, or PEARS, the Ploughman." Did he use his own soap? 2. How do you extract the square of a Beet-root? In connection with this, say how much it will take to square a "Swede ?" 3. Explain the use of the "Sewing-machine" for agricultural purposes. What do you mean by "going against the grain ?" 4. You plant a field of corn. What plaster do you adopt when it begins to shoot? Also give the best remedy you know for corn in the ear. 5. Write a Sentimental History of the Harvest Moon. Is it really twice as big as any other moon, or does it only look so, after drinking the landlord's health several times over? 6. To what gourmet giving a dinner-party in January is attributed the historical saying, "Peas at any price "? 7. How many black beans will make five white ones? Given the number, explain the process, and solve the equation. 8. What pomade do you recommend for "top-dressing"? "On the day of the abduction, I was treated barbarously! Even the cab in which I was taken off was, so the coachman informed me, 'put down to my account.' Oh, had I but guessed the truth about Mr. JONES when I went to the Altar-I mean the Registry Office! Supper consisted of cold mutton and pickles (!) which latter he upset, and I had a dress ruined." On perusing the above, Mr. JONES decided that he could no longer keep silence, and has made public the subjoined explanation: "When I first saw Mrs. JONES-then Miss THOMPSON-her youthful grace quite captivated me. Her age was under fifty-six, and mine was just sixty. She was, in fact, as I told her at the time, almost old enough to know her own mind. It is true that she was wealthy, but that had no influence on my conduct. On the contrary felt it as a positive drawback, as my domestic ideal has always been Love in a Cottage! But as she was bent upon our marrying, I agreed to waive this objection. In proof of this assertion I need only say that on the very day after our first meeting, I received the following letter: "PRICELESS AND ADORABLE PET,-How are your little tootsywootsicums? Did they get wet in conducting me home after that delicious interview? If so, and you were to catch cold in your precious head, I should never forgive myself. Oh, come and see me soon! Your Own, till Death, ANGELINA.' her sake, not for mine. Even now I believe that, were I left alone "Possibly I may be blamed for publishing this letter. I do it for with her for an hour, with none of her relatives nor a policeman near, I could persuade her to retract her calumnious statement about who are all of them powerful mesmerists, have hypnotised her!" the poker. I conclude by saying that it is my belief that her relatives, OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. My Face is My Fortune, by Messrs. PHILIPS and FENDALL. Why don't they agree to spell both names with an "F" and make it FILLIPS and FENDALL. I fancy that FENDALL couldn't do without the sensational fillips. This story excites curiosity throughout the first volume, and then, in the other volume, satisfies it in so disappointing and commonplace a fashion as to suggest the idea that one of the 9. What would be an M.P.'s first step towards squaring a circle of authors. becoming weary of his share in the work, suddenly chucked Agricultural Voters ? it up, and said, "Oh, bother! let's finish anyhow;" and then the other collaborateur, whichever it was, did finish it as best and as SAD STORY.-A painter, who had on several occasions aspired to a vention in the story. If it were for the first time in fiction that a quickly as he could. There is evidence of laziness or of lack of inplace in the Chantrey Collection, and invariably been refused, on secret is learnt by some one hiding behind some pantomime plants being encouraged to launch a fresh venture, and spread his canvas, in a conservatory, then too much praise could not be bestowed on which would be soon filled, for a sale, replied dejectedly, "Chantrey the ingenious devisers of so strong and original a situation. But be blowed; I shan't try any more!" Poor fellow! He must indeed 66 have been bad. He has not been heard of since. The Serpentine has done duty some scores of times before, on or off the stage, we know that situation,-he comes from Sheffield," and as it has been dragged. why, the thoroughgoing novel-reader shakes his head and asks, "Couldn't they have devised something better than this between them ?" "I expected much from this combination in Authorship, and am disappointed," says the candid BARON DE BOOK-WORMS. |