"What I like" (said he) "in this nook so shy, III. The Grand Old Swan came out of his hole, Hidden by rushes he yet drew near, With menaces meaning and manifold, Flowed forth on a "snorter" clear and bold (As when a party-procession rejoice With drums, and trumpets, and with banners of gold), Until the Canoeist's blood ran cold, And over his paddle he crouched and rolled; And he wished himself from that nook afar (If it were but reading the evening Star): And the Swan he ruffled his plumes and hissed, And with sounding buffets, which seldom missed, (Bent on enjoying his holiday). He smote him here, and he spanked him there, "I'll teach you," he cried, with pounding pinions, And the frightened flags, and the startled reeds, And the shaking rushes and wobbling weeds, THE PROPOSED OLD ETONIAN BANQUET.- 66 Floreat Etona!" by all means, and may "HENRY's holy shade" never be less! But doesn't it seem rather like a contradiction in terms, for Old Etonians to sit down to an Eaten Dinner P-Yours, once removed, A SIXTH-FORMOSUS PUER. ABOUT THE COURT. 66 FORM! "GOOD HEAVENS! WHAT A SWELL! WHAT IS IT? TEA-FIGHT? WEDDING BREAKFAST ?" "OH NO; ONLY GOING TO MY TAILOR'S. MUST BE DECENTLY DRESSED WHEN I GO TO SEE HIM. HE'S SO BEASTLY CRITICAL !" flaxen-headed M.P. of a Saxon constituency. And a word in his A SCHOOL OF CRITICISM. From the Queen. A Correspondent writes:"JOURNALISM.-I want to become a Dramatic Critic; how should I begin? I am fond of going to the theatre, but find it difficult to remember the plot of the play afterwards. What kind of notices do Editors prefer?-Histrionica." Ar the Royal Court Theatre, which, as I read on the illustrated House Programme, is "Licensed by the London County Council to the Proprietors, Mrs. JOHN WOOD and Mr. A. CHUDLEIGH, "—is the LORD CHAMBERLAIN out of it in this quarter ? (how can there be a Court without a Lord Chamberlain P), and, under which king, Bezonian?" Was it in the days of The Happy Land?-but no matter. To resume. At the aforesaid Court Theatre is now being performed an original Farce, in Three Acts, written by Mr. R. R. LUMLEY. Ah! Ah! LUMLEY, this isn't quite up to your other piece, Aunt Jack. Mrs. JOHN WOOD is invaluable, and keeps the game alive Isn't it Mr. DAVID ANDERSON who has set up a flourishing School throughout; while ARTHUR CECIL'S Duke of Donoway-not a for Journalists? Why shouldn't there be a School for Critics? The Comedy Duke, but a Duke in farcical circumstances-is excellent. Master would take his pupils to the Theatre regularly, and could WEEDON GROSSMITH is funny, but in make-up, tone of voice, and lecture on the Play as it proceeded. Should Managers and Actors mannerisms, the part seems mixed up with one or two others that he be so blind to the best interests of their Art as to refuse to allow the has played, and is very far from being in the same category with play to be stopped from time to time to allow of the Instructor's reAunt Jack's crushed Solicitor. BRANDON THOMAS as Captain Roland marks, then he would have to wait until after each Act, and retire Gurney, R. N., is very natural. The Office Boy of Master WILSON with his pupils into some quiet corner of the Refreshment-room, and the little Gridd of Master WESTGATE (very near Birchington where he could give his lecture. Or teacher and pupils could hear a when the boy is in Mrs. WooD's hands), are capital. Miss CARLOTTA Scene or an Act every night,-and if they paid for their places (a LECLERCQ's Duchess is equal to the occasion. The two girls' parts are reduction being made for a quantity), the particular drama they unnatural and uninteresting. What ought to make the success of patronised would be considerably benefited by this plan. the piece is the scene where WEEDON GROSSMITH volunteers to sing "The Wolf," and everyone talks and chatters until the Babel ends in an explosion. It convulses the house with laughter; and if this situation had been so contrived, as it might have been, allow me to say,-as to end the Act, the Curtain falling on the climax, the dashing down of the enraged musician's song and the exit of the Duke, the run of The Volcano would have been insured from now to Christmas. Is it too late to retrieve this ? To quote the title of one of ANTHONY TROLLOPE's novels, "I say No!" There is so much that is genuinely funny in the piece, that if the alteration is done with a will, hic et nunc, why within a week the piece could be fixed securely in its place for the London season, and beyond it. Let funny little WEEDON reconsider his make-up, and come out as the There might be a uniform or an academic costume for these critical scholars say Shakspearian collars, Undergraduate gown, and portable mortar-board, to fold up, and be sat upon. There might be a row reserved for them at the back of the Dress Circle, and twentyfive per cent. reduction on tickets for a series. The M.C., or Master of Critics, would take a fee for a course from each pupil. Fee to include seat at theatre, instruction, and supper afterwards. IMPORTANT CONTRIBUTION TOWARDS THE UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE."Hallo!" being the recognised telephonic summons in use between companies and individuals of all nationalities, may be already considered as Hallo'd by a variety of associations." 66 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. (Condensed and Revised Version by Mr. P.'s Own Harmless Ibsenite.) No. I.-ROSMERSHOLM (CONCLUDED.) ACT III. Sitting-room at Rosmershölm. Sun shining outside in the Garden. Inside REBECCA WEST is watering a geranium with a small watering-pot. Her crochet antimacassar lies in the arm-chair. Madam HELSETH is rubbing the chairs with furniture-polish from a large bottle. Enter ROSMER, with his hat and stick in his hand. Madam HELSETH corks the bottle and goes out to the right. Rebecca. Good morning, dear. (A moment after-crocheting.) Have you seen Rector KROLL'S paper this morning? There's something about you in it. Rosmer. Oh, indeed? (Puts down hat and stick, and takes up paper.) H'm! (Reads-then walks about the room.) KROLL has made it hot for me. (Reads some more.) Oh, this is too bad! REBECCA, they do say such nasty spiteful things! They actually call me a renegade-and I can't think why! They mustn't go on like this. All that is good in human nature will go to ruin if they're allowed to attack an excellent man like me! Only think, if I can make them see how unkind they have been! Reb. Yes, dear, in that you have a great and glorious object to attain-and I wish you may get it! Rosmer. Thanks. I think I shall. window, and jumps.) Ah, no, I shan't-never now. I have just seen Reb. Not the White Horse, dear? We must really not overdo that White Horse! Rosmer. No - the mill-race, where BEATA (Puts on his hat -takes it off again.) I'm beginning to be haunted by - no, I don't mean the horse-by a terrible suspicion that BEATA may have been right after all! Yes, I do believe, now I come to think of it, that I must really have been in love with you from the first. Tell me your opinion. Reb. (struggling with herself, and still crocheting). Oh-I can't exactly say-such an odd question to ask me! Rosmer (shakes his head). Perhaps; I have no sense of humour -no respectable Norwegian has -and I do want to know-because, you see, if I was in love (Happens to cook through with you, it was a sin, and if I once convinced myself of that[Wanders across the room. Reb. (breaking out). Oh, these old ancestral prejudices! Here is your hat, and your stick, too; go and take a walk. [ROSMER takes hat and stick, first, then goes out and takes a walk; presently Madam HELSETH appears, and tells REBECCA something. REBECCA tells her something. They whisper together. Madam H. nods, and shows in Rector KROLL, who keeps his hat in his hand, and sits on a chair. Kroll. I merely called for the purpose of informing you that I consider you an artful and designing person, but that, on the whole, considering your birth and moral antecedents, you know-(nods_at her)-it is not surprising. (REBECCA walks about, wringing her hands) Why, what is the matter? Did you really not know that you had no right to your father's name? I'd no idea you would mind my mentioning such a trifle! Reb. (breaking out). I do mind. I am an emancipated enigma, but I retain a few little prejudices still. I don't like owning to my real age, and I do prefer to be legitimate. And, after your information -of which I was quite ignorant, as my mother, the late Mrs. GAMVIK, never once alluded to it-I feel I must confess everything. Strongminded advanced women are like that. Here is ROSMER. (ROSMER enters with his hat and stick.) ROSMER, I want to tell you and Rector KROLL a little story. Let us sit down, dear, all three of us. (They sit down, mechanically, on chairs.) A long time ago, before the play began-(in a voice scarcely audible)-in Ibsenite dramas, all the interesting things somehow do happen before the play begins Rosmer. But, REBECCA, I know all this. KROLL-(looks hard at her). Perhaps I had better go? Reb. No-I will be short-this was it. I wanted to take my share in the life of the New Era, and march onward with RoSMER. There was one dismal, insurmountable barrier-(to RoSMER, who nods gravely)-BEATA! I understood where your deliverance lay-and I acted. I drove BEATA into the mill-race There! Rosmer (after a short silence). H'm! Well, KROLL-(takes up his hat)-if you're thinking of walking home, I'll go too. I'm going to be orthodox once more-after this! Kroll (severely and impressively, to REB.). A nice sort of young woman you are! [Both go out hastily, without looking at REB. Reb. (speaks to herself, under her breath). Now I have done it. I wonder why. (Pulls bell-rope.) Madam HELSETH, I have just had a glimpse of two rushing White Horses. Bring down my hair-trunk. [Enter Madam H., with large hair-trunk, as Curtain falls. ACT IV. Late evening. REBECCA WEST stands by a lighted lamp, with a shade over it, packing sandwiches, &c., in a reticule, with a faint smile. The antimacassar is on the sofa. Enter ROSMER. Rosmer (seeing the sandwiches, &c.). Sandwiches? Then you are going! Why, on earth,-I can't understand! Reb. Dear, you never can. Rosmershölm is too much for me. But how did you get on with KROLL? Rosmer. We have made it up. He has convinced me that the work of ennobling men was several sizes too large for me-so I am going to let it alone Reb. (with her faint smile). There I almost think, dear, that you are wise. Rosmer (as if annoyed). What, so you don't believe in me either, REBECCA-you never did! [Sits listlessly on chair. Reb. Not much, dear, when you are left to yourself-but I've another confession to make. Rosmer. What, another? I really can't stand any more confessions just now! Reb. (sitting close to him). It is only a little one. I bullied BEATA into the mill-race-because of a wild uncontrollable- (ROSMER moves uneasily.) Sit still, dearuncontrollable fancy-for you! Rosmer (goes and sits on sofa). Oh, my goodness, REBECCA-you mustn't, you know! [He jumps up and down as if embarrassed. Reb. Don't be alarmed, dear, it is all over now. After living alone with you in solitude, when you showed me all your thoughts without reserve,-little by little, somehow the fancy passed off. Í caught the RoSMER view of life badly, and dulness descended on my soul as an extinguisher upon one of our Northern dips. The ROSMER view of life is ennobling, very-but hardly lively. And I've more yet to tell you. Rosmer (turning it off). Isn't that enough for one evening? Reb. (almost voiceless). No, dear. I have a Past-behind me! Rosmer. Behind you? How strange. I had an idea of that sort already. (Starts, as if in fear.) A joke! (Sadly.) Ah, no-no, I must not give way to that! Never mind the Past, REBECCA; I once thought that I had made the grand discovery that, if one is only virtuous, one will be happy. I see now it was too daring, too original - an immature dream. What bothers me is that I can't somehow I can't believe entirely in you-I am not even sure that I have ennobled you so very much-isn't it terrible ? Reb. (wringing her hands). Oh, this killing doubt! (Looks darkly at him.) Is there anything I can do to convince you? Rosmer (as if impelled to speak against his will). Yee, one thingonly I'm afraid you wouldn't see it in the same light. And yet I must mention it. It is like this. I want to recover faith in my mission, in my power to ennoble human souls. And, as a logical thinker, this I cannot do now, unless-well, unless you jump into the mill-race, too, like BEATA ! Reb. (takes up her antimacassar, with composure, and puts it on her head). Anything to oblige you. Rosmer (springs up). What? You really will! You are sure you don't mind ? Then, REBECCA, I will go further. I will even go-yes-as far as you go yourself! Reb. (bows her head towards his breast). You will see me off? Thanks. Now you are indeed an Ibsenite. Rosmer (cautiously). I myself further than that. Reb. First tell me this. with you? [Smiles almost imperceptibly. said as far as you go. I don't commit Shall we go? Are you going with me, or am I going Rosmer. A subtle psychological point-but we have not time to think it out here. We will discuss it as we go along. Come! [ROSMER takes his hat and stick, REBECCA her reticule, with sandwiches. They go out hand-in-hand through the door, which they leave open. The room (as is not uncommon with rooms in Norway) is left empty. Then Madam HELSETH enters through another door. Madam H. The cab, Miss-not here! (Looks out.) Out together -at this time of night-upon my-not on the garden-seat? (Looks out of window.) My goodness! what is that white thing on the bridge-the Horse at last! (Shrieks aloud.) And those two sinful creatures running home! Enter ROSMER and REBECCA, out of breath. Rosmer (scarcely able to get the words out). It's no use, REBECCA -we must put it off till another evening. We can't be expected to jump off a footbridge which already has a White Horse on it. And, if it comes to that, why should we jump at all? I know now that I really have ennobled you, which was all I wanted. What would be the good of recovering faith in my mission at the bottom of a mill-pond? No, REBECCA-(lays his hand on her head) -there is no judge over us, and therefore Reb. (interrupting gravely). We will bind ourselves over in our own recognisances to come up for judgment when called upon. [Madam HELSETH holds on to a chair-back. REBECCA finishes the antimacassar calmly as Curtain falls. A GRAND OLD WETTERUN! THE JOLLY YOUNG WATERMAN. When smart EDDARD SAILL got that cask in his wherry, One fancies one hears 'em a laughing and cheering, So EDDARD got off, though his chance appeared small. Before swigging the wine, that it's yours fair and square! OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. I AIN'T bin werry well lately, and, to crown the hole, I was cort in the Lizzard, I think, as they called it, on that awful Munday nite, and that was pretty nearly a settler for both my old bones and my breth, and might ha' bin quite so, if one of the werry kindest Members of the old Copperashun as I nos on, who had bin a dining with a jolly party on 'em, hadn't kindly THE Childhood and Youth of Dickens, a sort of short postscript to directed my notise to about a harf bottle- FORSTER'S Life, very well got up by its publishers HUTCHINSON & Co., full of werry fine old Port, with the remark-will interest those who for the third or fourth time are going through abel kind words, "That's just about what a course of DICKENS. you wants, Mr. ROBERT, to take you ome safely this most orful nite!" And so it were, and I didn't waste a single drop on it. The "Tipper's" Strike. 66 such a pencil the The Baron is an amateur of pocket-books and note-books. The best pocket-book must contain a calendar-diary, and as little printed matter, and as much space for notes, as possible. No pocket-book is perfect However, I was obligated to have a good without some sort of patent pencil, of which the long rest, which I took out mostly in writing-metal, sleep; but, jest as I was preparing to when used on a set out for the "Grand Hotel," in comes my damp surface, Son; and he says to me, "Guvnor," says will serve as well he-I notise as he allers calls me Guvnor as do pen and when he wants me to do sumthink-"I wants you to do me the favour ink on ordinary to ask Mr. Punch for to do you a favour." "Why, what do you paper. Such a mean ?" says I. Why, this is what I means," says he. "About pocket-book with the grandest feller as ewer in the hole world gave up fifty years of his useful life to trying to make hundreds of stupid boys into clever boys, and hundreds of bad boys into good boys, and hundreds of dull boys into witty boys, is a going for to have a testymonial given him by sum of them hundreds of boys, me among 'em, to sellybrate his Jewbilly, same as the QUEEN had the other day. Ewery one of us as lives in London will jump at the chance; but the boys as he turns out from the great City of Lundon Skool is such reel fust-be called The Walker Pocket-book, or Pedestrian's Companion; raters, that they gits snapped up direckly by Merchants and peeple, for, as "He who runs may read," so, with this handy combinaand sent all over the world for to manidge their warious buzzinesses tion, "He who walks may write." The Baron is led to mention there, so we don't know how to get at 'em; but as Mr. Punch goes this à propos of a novelty by T. J. SMITH AND DOWNES, called The wherever any smart, clever English chap goes, if he wood most Self-registering Pocket Note-book, a very neat invention, qua kindly let this littel matter be mentioned, the grandest, and suck-Note-book only, but of which only one size has the invaluable sessfullest, ay, and wittiest Skool Master of modern times wood get patent pencil. The ordinary pencil entails carrying a knife, and, his dew reward. though this is good for the cutler-"I know that man, he comes from Sheffield"-yet it is a defect which is a constant source of worry to the ordinary note-taker. Otherwise, Messrs. SMITH AND DowNES' artfulness in making the pencil serve as a marker, so that the latest note can at once be found, is decidedly ingenious, and may probably be found most useful. Experientia docet: Baronius tentabit. So says my Sun, and prowd I was to lissen to his words; and this is what I can add to them from my own knowlidg. There's sum of the old boys, as isn't quite as yung as when they left Skool, as has formed a club to dine together sumtimes, and tork of old times, like senserbel fellers as they is; and Mr. JOSEPH HARRIS, the gennelman in question, is allers there, and allers has to make a speech, and I am amost allers there too; and, to hear the joyful While on the subject of pocket-books, the Baron must thank shouts of arty welcome with which his old pupils greets him when Messrs. CASSELL & Co. for the pocket volumes of the National he rises for to speak, and their roars of larfter at his wit, and his Library edited by HENRY MORLEY, and ventures to recommend as a fun, and his good-humer, while he is a speaking, is so wery re-real travelling companion, Essays, Civil and Moral, by Francis markabel, that I sumtimes wunders whether it doesn't, a good deal Bacon. In the eighteenth Essay "Of Travel," the chief Diarists, of it, rise from the fact of his great School being so close to "LETTS AND SON," might find a motto for their publications. The Mr. Punch's own horfice. But this is over the way, as the great Baron directs their attention to this side of BACON from which this writer says. May I be alowd to had that my speshal frend, and is a slice,-"Let Diaries, therefore, be brought in use." A new readhewerybody's speshal frend, Mr. Coor, is reddy to receive any number of subskripshuns at 30, New Bridge Street, E.C. ROBERT. ing for advertising purposes would change "Let" into "Letts," or Letts could be interpolated in brackets. A cheeky way of treating BACON," says the Baron's friend little FUNNIMAN (Author of Funniman's Poor Jokes); but, if nothing worse than this can be said against A NEW PROVIDENCE.-"My life is in your hands," as the Auto- the Baron's suggestion, why, "Letts adopt it," says biographist said to his Publisher. THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS. PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.-MARCH 28, 1891. M. LE PRÉSIDENT. "HALLO!" LORD SALISBURY. "HALLO!" [Telephone between London and Paris opened, Monday, March 23rd. |