On religious instruction being entirely omitted from the School Board curriculum, the following suggestions towards the formation of a moral and physical catechism may possibly be of use:—
Question. There was at one time much debating about a so-called "Conscience Clause." Now I will ask you what are we to understand by the word "conscience"?
Answer. It is only a name for the action of the liver in its various states.
Q. What is a "troubled conscience"?
A. It may arise from indigestion, or from an east wind, or from many other causes which affect different persons, with differing livers, in a variety of ways.
Q. In what sense do you recognise "conscience" as "an inward monitor"?
A. Its recognition as such depends on the extent of each individual's acquaintance with his own particular physical organisation as differentiated from that of others. In some cases the "voice of the inward monitor" may point to blue pill, and in others it may indicate moderated remedies.
Q. What is the moral law?
A. The so-called moral law is purely hygienic. Perfect health is perfect morality. Mens sana in corpore sano. "Law," so-called, is for the protection of the "good livers," and for the punishment of the "evil livers." Voilà tout!
The only Profession where there isn't "the 'Devil' to Pay."—The Legal.
"Touché!" Victorious Bancroft and Victorien Sardou.
Latest Intelligence.—We are glad to be able to assure our readers that, in spite of relations between the two parties being somewhat strained, it is not apprehended that serious international complications will arise out of "L'affaire Bancroft-Sardou;" though it is now pretty generally known that so grave a catastrophe has only been averted by the sudden change in the French Ministry.
["Mr. Darling, of Deptford, considers it his mission to chastise the Home Secretary."—Illustrated News.]
Deptford hath its Darling, its Darling, its Darling!
O! Deptford hath its Darling, the great Cav-il-ler!
If Asquith needs stern warning,
Or Morley wants the spur,
They'll find it in our Darling,
The great Ca-vil-ler!
O! Deptford hath its Darling, &c.
As he comes striding up the House,
Gladstone shrinks like a cur;
He knows his fluency must fail
To foil the Ca-vil-ler!
O! Deptford hath its Darling, &c.
"With Liberty Caps upon their heads
Shall Anarchists confer
On treason in Trafalgar Square?"
Demands the Ca-vil-ler!
O! Deptford hath its Darling, &c.
"Now stand aside, you Liberal loon!
I'm going to raise a stir;
I'll harry you—at Question time!"
Quoth the great Ca-vil-ler!
O! Deptford hath its Darling, &c.
And it's by the Square's damp fountains,
And it's in their Press, with pen,
Tr-r-raitors daren't sputter treason,
For Darling, best of men!
Deptford hath its Darling, its Darling, its Darling!
O! Deptford hath its Darling, the great Cav-il-ler!
(Being Bacchanalian Ballads for the use of all Professions, Trades, Crafts and Callings, and Convivial Carols for the Classes, the Masses, and the Lasses. By Tom Moore, Junior.)
Air—"Here's to the Maiden of bashful fifteen!"
Here's to the patient of hectic fifteen!
Here's to asthmatical fifty!
Here's to the port-soaked dyspeptic old dean!
And here's to the slop-swigger thrifty!
Chorus—
Let the dose pass,—
Drink, lad or lass!
I'll warrant ye'll soon love the (medicine) glass!
Here's to the charmer whom wrinkles surprise!
Now to the maid who has none, Sir!
Here's to the girl with two lungs of full size,
And here's to the nymph with but one, Sir!
Chorus—
Whoe'er they be,
Send 'em to me!
I warrant they'll prove an excuse for a fee!
Here's to "Old Purple," with port in his toe!
Now to him who's gone saffron on sherry!
Here's to the masher whose mind's on the go
Through making nocturnally merry!
Chorus—
Let the dose pass!
Drink, lad or lass.
I warrant I'll prove there's some use in my glass.
For let 'em be gamesome or let 'em be grim,
Ill or hearty, I care not a feather;
Fill 'em—with physic—bang up to the brim,
And let us all dose 'em together!
Chorus—
Howe'er they be,
Send 'em to me!
I warrant I'll find some excuse for a fee!
A Fine Old Girl and Uncommonly Well Preserved is The Bohemian Girl by the Balfe and Bunn family, whose Jubilee, November 27th, was celebrated by the chivalrous Sir Druriolanus at the Good Old House from which he takes his Latinised title, conferred upon him some years since as a reward of merit (not Paul Merritt, dramatist, and once upon a time collaborateur with Pettitt) by Mr. Punch. The fair Bohemian seemed "going strong," and as lively as ever. Ad multos annos!
New Version.—An amendment has been proposed in our National Anthem. It is suggested that instead of "Knavish," we should substitute "Navy-ish," when the line in question would read "Frustrate their Navy-ish tricks," which may be applied to a Home Governmental policy or to that of our Continental possible foes, just as circumstances may require.
Dear little maid, who in the Circle train
Sat so demurely, daintily arrayed
In sweet old-fashioned garment of delane—
Dear little maid.
Your merry smile, your laugh all unafraid
Made me forget the daily stress and strain.
To earth your childish prattle quickly laid
The phantoms that to middle age bring pain,
And life seemed more attractive, not so staid.
Oh! some day soon ride with me once again,
Dear little maid.
"How are you off for ——?"—Messrs. A. and F. P-rs, a name which rhymes to the first and final word of the line, "Tears, idle Tears" (by the way, what a delightful song for a Radical to sing, "Peers, idle Peers!"), write to Mr. Punch, informing him of the supreme excellence of the P-rs' Christmas Number, asking him to notice it, as he probably would do, in his pages, and adding that "it is already out of print." Then what is the use of drawing attention to it? Of course, if being out of print makes it the more valuable, then lucky are the possessors of original specimens, and well indeed are they off for the material for which the Upper House or House of P-rs is famed.
The Silk Industry (not from the Board of Trade Returns).—Mr. J. F. Leese, Q.C., M.P., appointed Recorder of Manchester. Mr. Punch wishes this capital cricketer a long innings, and may Manchester have a Leese that will run for any number of years without expiring.
Dear Mr. Punch,—I am a briefless barrister, and I wish to throw myself upon your generosity by asking you to allow me to make a suggestion which will be of great public interest, and incidentally help me to make my fortune. All London to-day is placarded with a thrilling picture of the Law-Court Scene in A Woman's Revenge. My suggestion is—Why not have real barristers? The theatre to-day is nothing if not realistic. Drury Lane has its race-horses, Ibsenity its ghosts—why should not the Adelphi take the town by storm with its barristers? The actor may, no doubt does, act the part admirably, but who can contend that he can possibly do so as well as could a real, actual barrister, who would know that he was striving not merely for the applause of the moment, but for the guinead briefs of the future? If Messrs. Gatti will undertake to accept the plan, I will undertake to provide the barristers. The programme would then run:—
Sir John Blacklock, Q.C. (Counsel for the Crown) . . . Mr. A. B., 102, Temple Gardens, Temple, E.C.
What we briefless barristers want in these hard times is merely the chance. I look to Messrs. Gatti to give it to us. I ought to add that the above address, though, in point of fact, it is my own, is given purely by way of illustration, and in no way to advertise myself, though should anyone wish to consult—again, of course, purely with reference to this suggestion—the way to my chambers from the Strand is down Middle Temple Lane, whilst the Temple Station is just three minutes' walk. I am, Sir, your obliged servant.
No second editions for Mrs. R. She says "she'll see the First Mrs. Tanqueray, or none at all!"
(Problem set:—To flatter a Poet's vanity and do no violence to your conscience.)
Pownceby (a minor poet). "Es, have you seen my last volume, Lady Vera—Throbs and Throes?"
Lady Vera. "Oh, yes, I have."
Pownceby. "And what did you think?"
Lady Vera. "Oh, I thought—that you had never done anything better."
[The Queen's Hall is at present free from the smell of cooking hitherto "the inseparable accompaniment of orchestral music."—Times, Nov. 27.]
Seated to-day at a concert,
I am weary and ill at ease,
Though Lloyd and Albani are singing,
Or anyone else you please;
I know not what they are doing,
For something is wanting there—
That old-fashioned concert-hall odour
Which throbbed in the scented air.
It flooded the place, like one of
Beethoven's sonatas might,
And it lay on my fevered spirit
With a touch of wild delight;
It quieted pain and sorrow,
It thrilled the enraptured sense,
A song without words—or music—
That travelled one knew not whence;
It linked all delightful odours
Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into soup-plates
As if it were loth to cease.
I have sought—but I seek it vainly—
That one lost smell sublime,
Which came from adjacent kitchens
At dinner or supper time.
It may be that Chopin is severed
From scents which with music we group,
It may be that Schubert is parted
For ever from odours of soup.
["A more silent city than Bruges does not exist."—Standard.]
What? Bruges a silent city!
Now, nay a thousand times!
If deaf, accept our pity;
If not,—oh dear! those chimes!
New Legal Work. (By the author of "In Silk Attire.") —"The Briefless Junior; or, Plenty of Stuff to Spare."
House of Commons, Monday, November 27.—Another night with Parish Councils Bill, dull as usual, save for one thrilling moment. Happened just before dinner. Henry Fowler accepted Amendment making responsible for expenses or damage those who had summoned meetings in Parish School. Sudden tumult below Gangway in Radical camp; Question put from Chair that Amendment be added to Bill. Logan raised stentorian shout of "No!" Chairman repeated Question; hubbub increased; amid it Logan seen waving arms aloft like windmill that had suddenly remembered an appointment. Mellor's face grew a shade mellerer, not to say paler. Set his lips, and there was a gleam in his eye reminiscent of Beerbohm Tree's when seated on the gargoyle of Canterbury Cathedral. On memorable night in summer-time Logan had taken him at disadvantage. Had executed flank movement, and so almost come down on Carson's knee on Chairman's left rear. Now, if he meant business, he would catch the Chairman's eye; and probably something else.
During interval when House cleared for division Acland, who, having a holiday, has been out helping Fowler, left Treasury bench; cautiously but nimbly crossed gangway; amid buzz of admiration from assembly that ever admires personal courage, entered the Logan's den. Sat down in very midst of excited Radicals; proposed to argue matter out. Effect upon Logan maddening. Windmill remembered another appointment more pressing than the last. Members, anxious for Acland's safety, looked round for Hayes Fisher. The Logan Tamer not in his place; sand rapidly running out of glass on table; another minute question would be put again; if Logan insisted division must be taken, split manifested in Ministerial ranks, and a quarter of an hour wasted. Acland, undaunted, pegged away persuasively; windmill still went round, but less furiously; half a minute and last sands would run out.
Logan glanced towards table; Chairman's glittering eye fixed upon him. Effect magical. Logan slowly rose and walked towards Bar; crowd thronging in at sound of division bell respectfully opened their ranks as he approached. Like accomplished husband in case that recently occupied attention of Sir Francis Jeune, Logan "can use 'em a bit." Suppose he were to begin promiscuously with the crowd at the Bar! Had no such intention. At other side of the Bar he was technically out of the House. What others did whilst he stood there would leave no sear on his conscience. When question was put again, and Chairman declared "The Ayes have it," there was no responsive angry shout of "No!" The crisis was passed, but what it cost the Chairman, and how it would have been but for Acland's fearless foray, who can tell?
Business done.—Reached Clause VI. Parish Councils Bill.
Tuesday.—The Man from Shropshire in great form to-day. Original Mr. Gridley was, according to records of Court of Chancery, accustomed to haunt the Court, and, at close of day's proceedings, address the Chancellor. Stanley Leighton knows no such limitation. 'Tis true he is generally found on his legs at moment of adjournment, shouting and gesticulating, whilst suborned and iniquitous Ministerialists (answering to tipstaves in Court of Chancery) howl him down. That only an incident in day's proceedings. Our Man from Shropshire begins as soon as his Lordship—I mean the Chairman—takes his seat. At brief intervals, which make openings for Tomlinson, our Mr. Gridley is at it all through the sitting of the Court.
To-night Henry Fowler took mean advantage of the suitor. That person had amendment on paper which if added to Bill meant nothing worse than surplusage. Rising from his usual place at back of Court, he began prodigious speech in support of amendment. Expected, in accordance with usage, to go on for quarter of an hour or twenty minutes; Fowler would say couldn't accept Amendment; Tomlinson would talk for quarter of an hour; perhaps Cap'en Tommy Bowles, having clapped the pilot in irons, would put in an oar; and Hanbury might say a few words. Then Walter Long or Hicks-Beach would rise from Front Opposition Bench, protest fullest appreciation of Amendment, declare it indispensable to success of Bill, but in circumstances, observing obstinacy of Minister, and impatience of gentlemen below Gangway opposite, advise hon. friend not to press it. The Man from Shropshire would make another speech, thanking right hon. friend for his remarks, in deference to which he will withdraw, although——
The Persuasive Acland and the Pugilistic Logan.
Here another speech, about as long as the distance from Shrewsbury to Wem. Thus an hour pleasantly and agreeably disposed of, Man from Shropshire takes breath, not that he wants it; a little later, comes up frowning with another Amendment, or a rambling speech in support of one moved by Tomlinson.
Fowler's strategy deprived him of this accustomed round of luxury. But if President of Local Government Board thought he had circumvented The Man from Shropshire he was as mistaken as the Chancellor in another court who used to stare at the ruined chancery suitor and blandly protest that, legally, he was unaware of his existence. Charm of speeches by Member for Oswestry division of Shropshire is their illimitable adaptability. Will suit any purpose, any opportunity. If not delivered at opening of sitting upon his own Amendment, will come in admirably on somebody else's Amendment to another line of Clause dealt with at later hour by another member. Thus, when Griffith-Boscawen delivered prodigious oration in presenting Amendment standing in the name of Hulse, The Man from Shropshire, bounding to his feet, waved his arms, and in them caught the Chairman's eye. A priceless opportunity this. To deliver your own speech prepared for your own Amendment a commonplace performance. To deliver it either for or against (doesn't matter which) an Amendment moved by another man, on behalf of a third man, is a luxury to be appreciated only by a gourmet.
The Man from Shropshire audibly smacks his lips over it. The other noise you hear is baffled Henry Fowler grinding his teeth.
Business done.—Reached Clause VII. Parish Councils Bill.
The Shropshire Windmill.
Thursday.—Some people inclined to regard as sufficient an arrangement that keeps them sitting day after day from three o'clock in afternoon to midnight listening to talk about Parish Councils. Others want a little more. Channing suggests House shall sit on Saturdays, and, on four days a week, shall commence business at noon, putting in a twelve hour day. Barrow assents to that, but thinks twelve o'clock Rule should be suspended, so that, for fuller luxury, House meeting at noon may, an' it please, sit all night. No one yet proposed to sit on Sunday and Christmas Day; that will follow as natural consequence. The Man from Shropshire, breaking out in fresh place, joins in conversation. Asks Mr. G. if he is aware that scores of Members are ill through overwork, and whether, instead of lengthening sittings, he will not rather shorten them.
Expected when Mr. G. rose he would make obvious retort that since Bill has been in Committee there is not single sitting that might not have been shortened by at least an hour if The Man from Shropshire had restrained his tendency to irrelevant babble. Mr. G. leaves that unsaid; is very firm about sitting till all necessary business is done; conditionally promises Saturday sitting; announces meeting of Cabinet to consider measures for expediting Bill. After this go into Committee, and succeed in not expediting progress. Night unspeakably dull.
Business done.—Reached Clause IX. Parish Councils Bill. Disposed of eight Clauses in eleven sittings. This leaves sixty-three more, not to mention new Clauses. If it takes eleven sittings to clear off eight Clauses, at what date, assuming same rate of progress, shall we be through a Bill that contains seventy-one? Small boys thinking of coming home for Christmas holidays please do this sum.
Friday.—Pretty to see Mr. G. just now explaining to Opposition that if they weren't good boys they'd be kept in to-morrow. Not that he put it in that coarse way. Storey, coming to his assistance in task of directing business of House, had, as Mr. G. put it with a positive pang of pain in his voice, invited him to assume attitude of censor of proceedings in Committee on Parish Councils Bill.
"That," said Mr. G., with an effort recovering himself, "I am not entitled to do." All he had to say was that under present Standing Orders a Saturday Sitting would naturally follow unless a Minister interposed with Motion preventing it. Marjoribanks sitting by his side was looking forward anxiously to pleasure of making such a Motion. It would be cruel disappointment to an amiable man if circumstances so shaped themselves as to forbid him the pleasure and gratification of rising on stroke of midnight and moving that House do adjourn till Monday. But—here Mr. G. shook his head and his voice thrilled with infinite pathos—business must be done. If, in short, Committee passed 9th and 10th Clauses of Bill, Marjoribanks would move adjournment till Monday. "If unfortunately," he added, "any miscarriage should occur he would not be in a position to make the motion." Squire of Malwood half rose from his seat as if to catch the drooping figure of his right hon. friend overcome with emotion. But Mr. G., waving him off, sank slowly back into his seat and shudderingly closed his eyes, as if to shut out picture of gentlemen opposite spending Saturday in further consideration of Parish Councils Bill. Goschen said it was too large an order. Couldn't possibly be done in the time. But it was.
Business done.—Got up to Clause X. and nearly finished it.
Transcriber's Note:Page 265: 'advertisment' corrected to 'advertisement'. "... a picture which seems to be an advertisement of somebody's shirts?" The correction is also indicated, in the text, by a dotted line underneath the correction. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will appear. (For some reason, in IE browsers, the normal link from the first image on Page 269 to its enlargement does not work. Sometimes left- or right-floating images can have link problems, though usually a partial link is available. Other browsers do not seem to be affected. A discreet supplementary link has been added for users of IE browsers.) |