Miss Nelly (to her Slave, in the middle of the best thing of the Season). "OH, MR. ROWEL, DO YOU MIND GOING BACK? I DROPPED MY WHIP AT THE LAST FENCE!"
Wednesday.—Welcome once more to our old friend, Norma, the Deceived Druidess, who was called Norma for short, she being an orphan, and having "nor par, nor ma." The Ancient Order of Druids, with Arch-Druid Oroveso in the chair, might have had a better brass band. Norma nowadays is not particularly attractive, and the house, when it is given, cannot be expected to be more than normal or ordinary.
Thursday.—Orféo. First appearance of Miles. GIULIA and SOFIA RAVOGLI in GLÜCK'S beautiful Opera, which has not been seen here for many years, but—judging from its reception by a full and delighted house—will be seen many times before Signor LAGO'S season comes to an end. Enthusiastic reception of GIULIA RAVOGLI as Orpheus; double recall after three of the four Acts; house insisting on having "Che farò" all over again. Orchestra, under Signor BEVIGNANI, admirable. Recreations of Demons and Furies, when let out of Gates of Erebus for a half-holiday, peculiar, not to say eccentric. Demons lie on rocks, with silver serpents round their necks as comforters, claw the air, and trot round in circles, after which they exhibit Dutch-metalled walking-sticks to one another with sombre pride. Furies trip measures and strike attitudes in pink tights and draperies of unæsthetic hues, when not engaged in witnessing, with qualified interest, incidental dances by two premières danseuses. Hades evidently less dull than generally supposed.
SUGGESTION.—Curious that no enterprising shaving-soap proprietor has as yet, as far as we know, advertised his invention as "Tabula Rasa." This is worth thousands, and takes the cake—of soap.
(Being a few Remarks à Apropos of a "British Academy of Letters.")
MR. PUNCH, SIR,
I have been reading with some morbid interest a series of contributions to the pages of a contemporary from several more or less distinguished literary men who have apparently been invited to express their opinions, favourable or the reverse, on the recently launched proposition to establish in our midst, after the French model, a "British Academy of Letters." Some ask, "What's the use?" Others want to know who is to elect the elected, and seem much exercised in their minds as to the status and qualifications of those who ought to be chosen for the purpose of discharging this all-important function. As to what would be the use of an institution of the kind, the answer is so obvious that I will not attempt to reply to it. But if it comes to naming a representative body capable of selecting the two or three thousand aspirants who have already, in imagination, seen their claims to the distinction recognised by the elective body to which has been entrusted the duty of weighing their respective merits—well then, to use a colloquial phrase, I may confidently say that "I am all there!"
Of course. Royalty must head it, so I head the list of, say, twelve Academic Electors, with the name of H.R.H. the Prince of WALES. This should be followed up by that of some generally widely-known personage, who has the literary confidence of the public, and in this connection, I have no hesitation in supplying it by that of the Compiler of Bradshaw's Railway Guide. Several now should follow, of varied and even conflicting interests, so as to satisfy any over-captious criticism inclined to question the thoroughly cosmopolitan character of the elective body. And so I next add, Mr. Sheriff AUGUSTUS HARRIS, H.R.H. the Duke of CAMBRIDGE, the Proprietor of PEARS' Soap, and the Beadle of the Burlington Arcade.
It might now be well to give a distinctively literary flavour to the body, and so I am disposed to continue my list with the names of the Poet Laureate and the City Editor of Tit Bits, following them up with the representatives of commercial enterprise, speculative art, and sportive leisure, guaranteed respectively by the names of the Chairman of the Chelsea Steam-boat Company, Mr. R. D'OYLY CARTE, and Prince HENRY OP BATTENBERG. For the twelfth, and remaining name, I would suggest that of Mr. HENRY IRVING, the Archbishop of CANTERBURY, the Manager of Madame TUSSAUD'S Wax Works, Sir WILFRID LAWSON, General BOOTH, Mr. SLAVIN, Mr. J.L. TOOLE, or any other striking or notable one that arrests the eye with the familiarity of long acquaintance. With the existing deplorable position of the Pantomime literature of the country, there can be little need to question further the necessity of a British Academy of Letters. The naming of those who are to constitute that institution is another thing; but if an authoritative fountain-head, to discharge this inevitable function, is sought, and the public puts the question, "Quis Nominabit?" I think, Sir, you will admit that I have most satisfactorily supplied the answer. Trusting to your judicious appreciation of the full gravity of the matter at issue, to publish this communication,
I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
(From a Thoughtful Grammarian.)
SIR,—In the Times' Court Circular, on Friday last, I read that—
"Mr. WILLIAM NICHOLL had the honour of singing before Her MAJESTY and the Royal Family."
This was indeed an honour. I regret that the Courtly Circularist did not tell us what Mr. NICHOLL sang before the QUEEN and Royal Family, and also what the QUEEN and Royal Family sang (solo and chorus?) after Mr. NICHOLL. But suppose "before" does not here relate to time, but to position. It would have been a novelty indeed, and one well worth recording, if Mr. NICHOLL had had the honour of sinking behind the Royal Family. And then, what a compliment if Her Gracious MAJESTY and the Royal Family had all turned round to listen to him! If I am wrong in my interpretation of the Court Circular's Circular Note, wouldn't it have prevented any possible error to have said, "In the presence of"? I only ask for information, and am
Yours,
A NEW TRACT FOR THE SALVATION ARMY.—The "General," who is the biggest BOOTH in the show, announced last week that he had been offered a big tract of land. Hear! Hear! Where? Where? "Anywhere, anywhere out of the world "—at least, out of our little world of Great Britain & Co. Let not "the General" be too particular, but accept the tract,—though he is more used to distributing tracts than accepting them,—and let him and his army, his lads and lasses, go away and leave us to enjoy our Sundays in peace and quiet.
NEW CITY FIRM (adapted from West End by Our Own Scotchman).—"SAVORY AND MAYOR."
"YOU SEEM OUT OF SORTS, JAMES, EVER SINCE WE'VE COME NORTH. IT'S THE CHANGE OF CLIMATE AND SCENERY, I S'POSE!"
"IT'S WUSS NOR THAT, MARIAR. IT'S THE CHANGE OF BEER!"
SCENE—A Suburban Hall. The Performance has not yet begun. The Audience is limited, and low-spirited, and may perhaps number—including the Attendants—eighteen. The only people in the front seats are, a man in full evening dress, which he tries to conceal under a caped cloak, and two Ladies in plush opera-cloaks. Fog is hanging about in the rafters, and the gas-stars sing a melancholy dirge. Each casual cough arouses dismal echoes. Enter an intending Spectator, who is conducted to a seat in the middle of an empty row. After removing his hat and coat, he suddenly thinks better—or worse—of it, puts them on again, and vanishes hurriedly.
First Sardonic Attendant (at doorway). Reg'lar turnin' em away to-night, we are!
Second Sardonic Attendant. He come up to me afore he goes to the pay-box, and sez he—"Is there a seat left?" he sez. And I sez to 'im, "Well, I think we can manage to squeeze you in somewhere." Like that, I sez.
[The Orchestra, consisting of two thin-armed little girls, with pigtails, enter, and perform a stumbling Overture upon a cracked piano. Herr Von KAMBERWOHL, the Conjuror, appears on platform, amidst loud clapping from two obvious Confederates in a back row.
Herr V. K. (in a mixed accent). Lyties and Shentilmans, pefoor I co-mence viz my hillusions zis hevenin', I 'ave, most hemphadically to repoodiate hall hassistance from hany spirrids or soopernatural beins vatsohever. All I shall 'ave ze honour of showing you will be perform by simple Sloight of 'and, or Ledger-dee-Mang! (He invites any member of the Audience to step up and assist him, but the spectators remain coy.) I see zat I 'ave not to-night so larsh an orjence to select from as usual, still I 'ope——(Here one of the obvious Confederates slouches up, and joins him on the platform. ) Ah, zat is goot! I am vair moch oblige to you, Sare. (The Confederate grins sheepishly.) Led me see—I seem to remember your face some'ow. (Broader grin from Confederate.) Hah, you vos 'ere last night?—zat exblains it! But you 'ave nevaire assist me befoor, eh? (Reckless shake of the head from Confederate.) I thought nod. Vair veil. You 'ave nevaire done any dricks mit carts—no? Bot you vill dry? You nevaire dell vat you gan do till you dry, as ze ole sow said ven she learn ze halphabet. (He pauses for a laugh—which doesn't come.) Now, Sare, you know a cart ven you see 'im? Ah, zat is somtings alretty! Now I vill ask you to choose any cart or carts out of zis back. (The Confederate fumbles.) I don't vish to 'urry you—but I vant you to mike 'aste—&c, &c.
The Man in Evening Dress. I remember giving BIMBO, the Wizard of the West, a guinea once to teach me that trick—there was nothing in it.
First Lady in Plush Cloak. And can you do it?
The M. in E.D. (guardedly). Well, I don't know that I could exactly do it now—but I know how it's done.
Herr Von K. (stamping, as a signal that the Orchestra may leave off). Next I shall show you my zelebrated hillusion of ze inexhaustible 'At, to gonclude viz ze Invisible 'En. And I shall be moch oblige if any shentelmans vill kindly favour me viz 'is 'at for ze burpose of my exberiment.
The M. in E.D. Here's mine—it's quite at your service. [To his companions. ] This is a stale old trick, he merely—(explains as before. ) But you wait and see how I 'll score off him over it!
Herr V.K. (to the M. in E.D). You are gvide sure, Sare, you leaf nossing insoide of your 'at?
The M. in E.D. (with a wink to his neighbours). On the contrary, there are several little things there belonging to me, which I'll thank you to give me back by-and-by.
Herr V.K. (diving into the hat). So? Vat 'ave we 'ere? A bonch of flowairs! Anozzer bonch of flowairs? Anozzer—and anozzer! Ha, do you alvays garry flowairs insoide your 'at, Sare?
The M. in E.D. Invariably—to keep my head cool; so hand them over, please; I want them.
Herr V.K.. Bresently, Sare,—zere is somtings ailse, it feels loike—yes, it ees—a mahouse-drap. Your haid is drouble vid moice, Sare, yes? Bot zere is none 'ere in ze 'at!
The M. in E.D. (with rather feeble indignation.) I never said there were.
Herr V.K. No, zere is no mahouse—bot—[diving again]—ha! a leedle vide rad! Anozzer vide rad! And again a vide rad—and one, two, dree more vide rads! You vind zey keep your haid noice and cool, Sare? May I drouble you to com and dake zem avay? I don't loike ze vide rads myself, it is madder of daste. [The Audience snigger. ] Oh, but vait—zis is a most gonvenient 'at—[extracting a large feeding-bottle and a complete set of baby-linen]—ze shentelman is vairy domestic, I see. And zere is more yet, he is goot businessman, he knows how von must hadvertise in zese 'ere toimes. 'E 'as 'elp me, so I vill 'elp 'im by distributing some of his cairculars for 'im.
[He showers cards, commending somebody's self-adjusting trousers amongst the Audience, each person receiving about two dozen—chiefly in the eye—until the air is dark, and the floor thick with them.
The M. in E.D. (much annoyed). Infernal liberty! Confounded impudence! Shouldn't have had my hat if I 'd known he was going to play the fool with it like this!
First Lady in Plush Cloak. But I thought you knew what was coming?
The M. in E.D. So I did—but this fellow does it differently.
[Herr VON K. is preparing to fire a marked half-crown from a blunderbuss into a crystal casket.
A Lady with Nerves (to her husband). JOHN, I'm sure he's going to let that thing off!
John (a Brute). Well, I shouldn't be surprised if he is. I can't help it.
The L. with N. You could if you liked—you could tell him my nerves won't stand it—the trick will be every bit as good if he only pretends to fire, I'm sure.
John. Oh, nonsense!—you can stand it very well if you like.
The L. w. N. I can't, John.... There, he's raising it to his shoulder. JOHN, I must go out. I shall scream if I sit here, I know I shall!
John. No, no—what's the use? He'll have fired long before you get to the door. Much better stay where you are, and do your screaming sitting down. (The Conjuror fires.) There, you see, you didn't scream, after all!
The L. w. N. I screamed to myself—which is ever so much worse for me; but you never will understand me till it's too late!
First Lady in Plush Cloak. That was very clever, wasn't it? I can't imagine how it was done!
The M. in E.D. (in whom the memory of his desecrated hat is still rankling). Oh, can't you? Simplest thing in the world—any child could do it!
Second Lady. What, find the rabbit inside those boxes, when they were all corded up, and sealed!
The M. in E.D. You don't mean to say you were taken in by that? Why, it was another rabbit, of course!
First Lady. But even if it was another rabbit, it was wearing the borrowed watch round its neck.
The M. in E. D. Easy enough to slip the watch in, if all the boxes have false bottoms.
Second L. Yes, but he passed the boxes round for us to examine.
The M. in E. D. Boxes—but not those boxes.
First L. But how could he slip the watch in when somebody was holding it all the time in a paper bag?
The M. in E. D. Ah, I saw how it was done—but it would take too long to explain it now. I have seen it so well performed that you couldn't spot it. But this chap's a regular duffer!
Herr V. K. (who finds this sort of thing rather disturbing). Lyties and Shentilmans, I see zere is von among us who is a brofessional like myself, and knows how all my leedle dricks is done. Now—suddenly abandoning his accent—I am always griteful for hanythink that will distrack the attention of the orjonce from what is going on upon the Stige; naterally so, because it prevents you from follerin' my actions too closely, and so I now call upon this gentleman in the hevenin' dress jest to speak hup a very little louder than what he 'as been doin', so that you will be enabled to 'ear hevery word of his hexplanation more puffickly than what some of you in the back benches have done 'itherto. Now, Sir, if you'll kindly repeat your very hinterestin' remarks in a more haudible tone, I can go on between like.
[Murmurs of "No, no!" "Shut up!" "We don't want to hear him!" from various places; The Man in Evening Dress subsides into a crimson taciturnity, which continues during the remainder of the performance.
"OH, I BEG YOUR PARDON! I DID HOT SEE YOU SIR!"
"SEE ME! CONFOUND IT, SIR, YOU CAN SEE THROUGH ME NOW!"
JOURNALISTIC.
"Inspector —— gives you the impression of a particularly able and open-minded Police-officer;" i.e., "An easy prey to the interviewing correspondent."
"It could not, of course, be expected that a particularly shrewd and able young Solicitor would be very communicative about his client's case;" i.e., "Knew precious little himself, and didn't even offer me a drink."
QUITE THE KOCH OF THE WALK.—The great Berlin Bacteriologist.
They is still so jolly busy at the "Grand" that I had sum differculty in getting leaf of habsense for Satterday, larst week, for to go with a werry seleck Copperashun Party on a most himportent hexcurshun to Burn'em Beaches about cuttin all the trees down, so that then it woodn't be not Burn'em Beaches not no longer! Howewer, by promisin for to stick to the "Grand" all thro' the cumming Winter, the too Gentelmanly Managers let me go.
The fust thing as summat staggered me, in a long day of staggerers, was the fack, that all the hole Party had a grand Royal Saloon all to theirselves for to take them to Slough, but my estonishment ceased when I saw that they was Chairmaned by the same "King of good fellers" as took 'em all to Ship Lake on a prewious ocasion. They didn't have not no refreshments all the way to Slough, so they was naterally all pretty well harf starved by the time they got there, but there they found a lovly Shampane Lunshon a waiting for to refresh xhawsted Natur, and at it they went like One o'Clock altho it wasn't only arf parst Elewen. Now for the second staggerer! One of the party, a rayther antient Deputty, insted of jining the rest of the Party, declared his intenshun to take his Lunch off the Sunshine which was shining most brillient outside the room, and acordingly off he set a warking up and down in it for three quorters of a hour, without not no wittels nor no drink! till "the King of all good fellers" coodn't stand it not no longer, and sent me out to him with sum sangwidges and a bottel of Sham. He woodn't not touch no sangwidges, and ony took one glass of wine, and told me to put by the bottel for his dinner, which I did in course; but somehows, when he arsked for it arterwards, the cork had got out, and the wine had got out, but I thinks I can wenture to say as that not one drop of it was wasted, and werry good it was too.
We then set out on our luvly drive, me on the box-seat of one of the Carridges, and the other pore fellers cramped up hinside. Sumhows or other, weather it was hoeing to the nobel Lunch or not, I don't kno, we lost our way, and found ourselves at larst, not where we all wanted to be, but at a most bewtifool House of call, where they has the werry sensebel custom that, when they thinks as wisiters has had enuff drink, they won't let 'em have not a Drop More, and that is acshally the name by which the ouse is known, both far and wide! Whether it's a good plan for the howse, in course I don't kno, but Mr. FOURBES, the souperintendent of the Beeches, says as nothink woodn't injuice 'em to alter the name. Whether that singler custom had anythink to do with it I don't kno, but our party didn't stay there long, and we soon found ourselves at bewtifool Burn'em Beaches.
In course I didn't intrewde myself when they was a settling of the himportant bizziness as they was cum about, so I strolled off to a little willage as I seed in the distance, and which is acshally called Egipt, tho it ain't much bigger than Whetstone Park, Hobern, the ome of my herly birth! From a rayther hurryed conwersashun with a real Native, I gathered the himportant fack that the one reason why all the great big Beach Trees of the Forest had had their tops cut off, was, that OLIWER CROMWEEL wanted the bows for his sojers to carry, so as to make 'em look more than they was when he marched at their Hed to the Seege of Winsor Carsel! What curius and hinteresting hinformashun we can get from the werry humblest of our Feller Creturs when we goes the rite way to git it!
I got back to the Party jest as they had cum to the werry senserbil reserlushun that Nowember was not at all the best munth to see whether Trees was really dead, or was ony shamming, so they determined, like true patriots as they is, to adjourn the matter till the 1st of next April, by which time they woud be able to decide.
On our way back to Slough they all got out to see Stoke Pogies Church, where some great Poet was buried long long ago, who had wrote a most lovely Poem there, all about what could be seen from the Churchyard of an evening, and one of the party said, that the sperrit of the bewtifool seen and of the luvly Poem was so strong upon him, that, if they woud stand round the Toom, he woud try to recite some of its sweetest lines, and he did so, and I heard one on 'em say, as we was a driving back, that more than one among them had his eyes filled with plessant tears as he lissened. Ah, it isn't for a pore Waiter like me to write on these matters, but I hopes as I don't offend not anybody when I says, that praps if jest a leetle more pains was taken for to make us pore fellers understand, and feel, and share in the rapshur as such poems seems to inspire in our betters, it might help to smooth, if not to shorten, the long dreary road as lies between the Hignorant and the Heddicated.
NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.