Chapter XVI: Conclusion

I thought to pass some time ago, but hang it, here I am,
Having "muckered" in a certain Mathematical Exam.
I have been "excused the General," and my reverent Tutor thinks
I must take up Natural Science, which is commonly called "Stinks."

O sweet is academic life within these ancient walls,
And sweet are Cambridge pleasures--boating, billiards, breakfasts,
balls;
But sweeter far about this time than all these things to me
Would be the acquisition of my Bachelor's Degree.

* * * * *

THE PREMIER'S LAMENT.

I'll be in the House quite early, you come later, Herbie dear,
This night will be the hardest in the Cabinet's career;
Of all our mad career, Herbie, the hardest, horridest night,
For the Vote of Censure's on us, and the Opposition fight.

* * * * *

O, sweet's the docile Liberal who never wants to rise.
And sweeter still the Radical who shuns the Speaker's eyes,
And sweet are dumb majorities, and men who silent stay,
For the hardest things to listen to are what our friends all say.

* * * * *

There's Parnell's lot, my Herbie, that wretched Irish crew;
Don't go and say I said so, this is confidence for you:
I've done my best to catch them, and gain their solid vote;
But Trevelyan's such a blunderer, he's always at their throat.

* * * * *

So I will go down early, you come down after, Herbie dear;
To-morrow may be the saddest day of this our sad fifth year.
I've felt some twinges sometimes of conscience and of gout;
But the painfullest of all would be to know that we're turned out.

_The Evening News_, February 18, 1884.

* * * * *

THE NEW LORD MAYOR.

(_A long way after Tennyson_).

You must mind and call me early, call me early, JOHN, d'ye hear.
To-morrow'll be the nobbiest day of all this blessed year:
Of all this wonderful year, JOHN, the scrumptiousest I declare,
For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, JOHN! I'm to be made Lord Mayor!

There's many an Aldermanic Swell, but none so great as me;
I scorn your Common Councillors, such men I will not see;
But none so grand as Alderman ELLIS the Liverymen all swear,
For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, JOHN! I'm to be made Lord Mayor!

I sleep well after a heavy meal, and I shall never wake,
If you don't knock at my door, JOHN, when day begins to break;
And I must dress in my Sunday clothes, and titivate up my hair,
For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, JOHN, I'm to be made Lord Mayor!

As I came up to the Mansion House, whom think ye I should see,
But FIGGINS and other Aldermen as glum as they well could be,
They thought of the coming pageantry, and how I should swagger there,
For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, JOHN, I'm to be made Lord Mayor!

Then mind and call me early, call me early, JOHN, don't fear
To dig me in my illustrious ribs, and shout in my lordly ear;
And to-morrow will see me roll along, while all the people stare,
For I'm to be made Lord Mayor, JOHN! I'm to be made Lord Mayor!

_Punch_, November 12, 1881.

* * * * *

THE LORD MAYOR TO THE LADY MAYORESS.

["If this bill becomes law, it will be our proud privilege to continue the existence of the Lord Mayor for six months, until it comes into action on the 1st of May, 1885."--_Sir W. V. Harcourt's Speech._]

If you've read Sir Vernon's speech upon the City, daughter dear,
You will see that London's downfall from its great estate is near;
But one comfort you will gather--not November ends our sway,
For I'm to be Mayor till May, daughter, I'm to be Mayor till May!

I have said that I will fight the bill, in clause, and line, and word.
I may not be the conqueror, but my protests shall be heard--
Though that clause my office to extend for six months more may stay,
That I may be Mayor till May, daughter, I may be Mayor till May!

They do not stop our banqueting, so that clause I don't condemn--
Oh, the Ministers won't abrogate the feeds we give to them!
And that is about the only good they do not take away--
But I'm to be Mayor till May, daughter, I'm to be Mayor till May!

* * * * *

Can Harcourt think to bribe me by this one continuance clause?
He'll see that I shall show the bill to be little else but flaws!
This "sop" as he may fancy it, won't affect what I've to say,
Tho' I'm to be Mayor till May, daughter, I'm to be Mayor till May!

Now tell me your opinion on the matter, daughter dear,
For you will be Lady Mayoress as long as we are here;
And if it passes, recollect _we_ pass next "Lord Mayor's Day,"
And I shall be Mayor till May, daughter, I shall be Mayor till May!

_Funny Folks_, May 3, 1884.

* * * * *

The Prize Editor of _The Weekly Dispatch_ offered two guineas for the best original parody of Tennyson's "May Queen," to consist of not more than five verses, having some reference to current politics. The prize was awarded to Mr. F. W. Binstead, 76, Ockendon road, Canonbury, N., for the following poem, which was published in _The Weekly Dispatch_, May 4, 1884:--

THE LAST LORD MAYOR TO HIS FAVOURITE BEADLE.

You must wake and call me early, call me early, Bumble, dear,
I mean to fight with all my might each minute of this year;
For a play is in rehearsal now--a tragic, terrible play--
And I'm to be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I'm to be Griffin at Bay!

I'll fight from morn till night, Bumble--my soul must never quake--
For calipash and calipee and Corporation's sake;
And I must don the lion's skin, although I can but bray,
For I'm to be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I'm to be Griffin at Bay!

When I was in the Commons, whom think ye I should see,
But Harcourt smiling on his seat, just close to William G.?
He thought not of the feed, Bumble, we gave him t'other day--
But I will be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I will be Griffin at Bay!

They want to wreck, with sinful hand, our great time-honoured powers,
And take away the wealth and might which have so long been ours;
But I will roar and bluster, in my old accustomed way,
For I'm to be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I'm to be Griffin at Bay!

Go, summons all my aldermen, and bid them take their fill,
From terror free let them with me all gaily feast and swill;
Reform need have no fears for them, so bid them all be gay,
For I'm to be Griffin at Bay, Bumble, I'm to be Griffin at Bay!

* * * * *

Four other parodies, which had been sent in for competition, were also printed:--

THE EVE OF THE GENERAL ELECTION.

We must wake and get up early, get up early, brother Grimes,
For to-morrow'll be the greatest day of all the modern times;
Of all the modern times, brother, the day so long delayed,
When we're to be freemen made, brother, we're to be freemen made.

There's many a low, low lot, they said, but none so low as we,
So sunk in ignorance and vice, in want and penury;
But none so stupid as poor Hodge in all the land, they said;
But we're to be freemen made, brother, we're to be freemen made.

* * * * *

So we'll rise and poll us early, poll us early, brother Grimes,
For to-morrow'll be the important day of all the glad new times;
Of all the glad new times, brother, the day so long delayed,
When we're to be freemen made, brother, we're to be freemen made.

JAMES FRASER.

TORY LORD TO DITTO DITTO ON THE EVE OF THE INTRODUCTION OF THE FRANCHISE BILL INTO THE UPPER HOUSE.

If you're going, look in early, look in early, brother peer,
To-morrow we'll have the merriest fling we've had for many a year;
We've had for many a year, brother--Aha! hip, hip, hooray!
For "the measure" comes up, they say, brother, "the measure" comes
up, they say.

The bishops will go with us, brother, and landlords fat and lean,
And they'll vote ditto, brother--the weak-kneed Whigs, I mean;
With quiddities and flow'ry quirks we'll whittle the bill away.
We'll whittle the bill away, brother, we'll whittle the bill away.

And all the law-lords, brother, will use their subtle skill
By verbiage and amendment sly to mutilate the bill;
Our lordly mashers, too, brother, will meet in grand array,
For 'twill be as good as the play, brother, 'twill be as good as the
play.

We thought to kick it out, brother, but we've found it wouldn't pay;
J. B. would never stand it, so we'll better tact display;
And we'll hocuss him, you see brother, and mar its clauses dear:
So, we'll be early, places taking, we'll be early, brother peer.

GERMANICUS.

ON THE EVE OF A DEBATE ON THE FRANCHISE BILL.

You must wake up! there'll be such a hurly-burly, Staffy, dear;
To-morrow'll be the merriest night the House has had this year;
Of all the nights this year, Staffy, the night to be marked with chalk,
For I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk.

There's many a clack-clack cry, they say, but none so shrill as mine;
There's Peel and Gorst and Drummond, there's Balfour superfine;
But none so rare as little Randy in all the House for talk,
So I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk.

As I came through the lobby whom think ye should I see
But Gladdy poring o'er the bill to set the yokels free.
He caught my eye and shook, Staffy--I eyed him like a hawk!
But I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk.

The hinds may reap and sow, Staffy, but ere that measure pass,
The cows will get the franchise as they munch the meadow grass;
There will not be a vote for Hodge, if only the bill we baulk,
And I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk.

All the Tories, Staffy, will obstruct it with a will,
And the swift foot and the slow foot will mash and maul the bill;
And the G.O.M. will fret and fume like fizz when you draw the cork,
For I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk.

GOSSAMER.

THE PREMIER TO MRS. GLADSTONE.

You must wake me in the morning, rouse me early, wifey, dear;
To-morrow'll be a ticklish time at Westminster, I hear;
At Westminster, the Franchise Bill will glide upon its way,
And I shall have something to say, deary, I shall have something to
say.

There's many a black-legged Tory who would frustrate our design--
There's Northcote and there's Goschen, who was once a friend of mine;
But none, I think, will stand their ground if I can get fair play,
For they know it is true what I say, deary, they know it is true
what I say.

I sleep so light of late, wifey, that bedtime comes in vain,
They've bored me so with Gordon that I've Egypt on the brain:
Yet I'll regain these wasted hours--this loss of time won't pay--
And show that I mean what I say, deary, show that I mean what I say.

* * * * *

JESSIE H. WHEELER.

_The Weekly Dispatch_, May 4, 1884.

* * * * *

THE PROMISE OF MAY!

(_An Old Song re-set, and specially dedicated, for purposes of recitation, to Mrs. Bernard-Beere, Manageress of the Globe Theatre_).

YOU must call rehearsals early, call them early, KELLY dear!
November'll be the merriest month of our dramatic year;
November I have fixed it for the Laureate's new play,
And I'm to be Promise of May, KELLY, I'm to be Promise of May!

There's many a chosen priestess in the wild æsthetic line.
There's ELLEN! and there's MARION! whose fingers intertwine!
But all the Grosvenor Gallery think none like me, they say;
So I'm to be Promise of May, KELLY, I'm to be Promise of May!

I'm thinking of _the_ night, you know, both sleeping and awake,
And I hear them calling loudly till their voices seem to break;
But I must fashion lots of gowns in Liberty silks so gay,
For I'm to be Promise of May, my Lad, I'm to be Promise of May!

I went down into Surrey--don't laugh, it is no joke--
And found the great Bard dramatist wrapt in a cloak--of smoke!
He handed me his manuscript, and read it yesterday;
So I'm to be Promise of Maytime, I'm to be Promise of May!

He said I was ideal, because I kept it up,
This mixture of his _Dora_, and his _Camma_ in the _Cup_.
They call me a _replica_, but I care not what they say.
Now I'm to be Promise of May, you see, I'm to be Promise of May!

They say he's pining still for fame; but that can never be.
He likes to roar his lyrics, but what is that to me?
I'll fill the Globe with worshippers, in the old Lyceum way--
For I'm to be Promise of May, my Friend, I'm to be Promise of May!

My sisters of the _cultus_ shall attend me clad in green;
All the poets and the painters must hail me as their Queen!
The great dramatic critics of course will have their say,
Now I'm to be Promise of Maytime, I'm to be Promise of May!

The Pit with wild excitement will tremble, never fear,
And the merry gods above them will greet me with a cheer!
There will not be a ribald line in all the Laureate's play,
For I'm to be Promise of May, you see, I'm to be Promise of May!

All the Stalls will sit in silence, or with cynicism chill
Will pick the Bard to pieces, and work their own sweet will;
And HAMILTON CLARKE in the orchestra he'll merrily pose and play--
For I'm to be Promise of May, my Lad, I'm to be Promise of May!

So call rehearsals early, call them early, there's a dear!
Bid gipsy-tinted ORMSBY and VEZIN to appear.
November'll see what "gushers" call the "sweetest, daintiest play,"
And I'm to be Promise of May, KELLY, I'm to be Promise of
May!

_Punch_, November 4, 1882.

As this parody refers to a nearly-forgotten play, the allusions in it may best be explained by the reproduction of the Play-bill, which has now become a literary curiosity.

* * * * *

The drama was a complete and melancholy failure; even George Augustus Sala, most lenient and genial of critics, could not but condemn it, as being as unactable a play as Shelley's "Cenci," or Swinburne's "Bothwell," or Southey's "Wat Tyler," whilst it possessed none of the literary merits of either of those compositions. He added, "It is finally and most wretchedly unfortunate that an illustrious English poet has not by his side some really candid and judicious friend, with influence enough, and courage enough, to persuade him to desist from subjecting this disastrous production to the ordeal of representation before a miscellaneous audience."

Bad as _The Promise of May_ was, it contained one leading idea, which, from the very opposition it gave rise to, enabled the management to keep the play on the boards much longer than could have been anticipated. The plot had been foreshadowed in one of Tennyson's earliest poems, _The Sisters:_--

"We were two daughters of one race:
She was the fairest in the face:
The wind is blowing in turret and tree.
They were together, and she fell:
Therefore revenge became me well.
O the Earl was fair to see!"

THE GLOBE THEATRE.

Licensed by the Lord Chamberlain to Mr. F. MAITLAND, 26½, Newcastle
Street.

_Under the Management of_
MRS. BERNARD-BEERE.

_On SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 11th, 1882_,
WILL BE PRODUCED
A NEW AND ORIGINAL RUSTIC DRAMA, IN PROSE,
BY
ALFRED TENNYSON (POET LAUREATE),
ENTITLED, THE
PROMISE OF MAY,
IN THREE ACTS.

THE WHOLE PRODUCED UNDER THE MANAGEMENT OF
MR. CHARLES KELLY.

_At_ 8.45 BY
_THE PROMISE OF MAY_. _ALFRED TENNYSON_.
The town lay still in Farmer Dobson Mr. CHARLES KELLY.
But a red fire woke in the
the low sun-light, Edgar Mr. HERMANN VEZIN.
heart of the town,
Farmer Steer, _Dora's Father_ .. Mr. H. CAMERON.
Mr. Wilson, _a Schoolmaster_ .. Mr. E. T. MARCH.
The hen cluct late James } {Mr. H. HALLEY.
And a fox from the glen ran
by the white farm gate, Dan Smith} {Mr. C. MEDWIN.
away with the hen,
Higgins } _Farm_ {Mr. A. PHILLIPS.
The maid to her dairy Jackson } _Labourers_ {Mr. G. STEPHENS.
And a cat to the cream, and a
came in from the cow, Allen} {Mr. H. E. RUSSELL.
rat to the cheese,

The stock-dove coo'd Dora Steer Mrs. BERNARD-BEERE.
And the stock-dove coo'd till
at the fall of night, Eva, _her Sister_ MISS EMMELINE ORMSBY.
a kite dropped down,
_By permission of Mr. Wilson Barrett._

The blossom had open'd Sally} _Farm Servants_. {Miss ALEXES LEIGHTON.
And a salt wind burnt the
on every bough. Milly} {Miss MAGGIE HUNT.
blossoming trees.

The whole produced under the direction of
O joy for the promise of May, Mr. CHARLES KELLY.
of May.
O grief for the promise of May,
of May,