Chapter VIII

She's "some pumpkins"--though now she looks sober--
She's brilliant; she is "no small beer."
No, no, _Cinderella_, my dear!
Your envious "sisters" may jeer,
And sit on you yet, for a year;
Redtape your advancement may fear,
And Monopoly's patrons look queer;
But, as sure as the month of October
Is famous for sound British beer,
Vested Interest time shall prove _no_ bar
To your final triumph, my dear!

[Footnote 1: POE, not _Mr. Punch_, should have the credit of this and certain other Cockney rhymes.]

* * * * *

"HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE."--"The competition for the Evill Prize also took place yesterday" (i.e., last Thursday. _Vide Times_). The prize so Evilly named was won by Mr. PHILIP BROZEL, of the Royal Academy of Music, who must have expressed himself as being at least deucedly delighted, even if he did not use some much stronger and wronger expression. Henceforth PHILIP BROZEL has an Evill reputation. Let us hope he will live up to it, and so live it down.

* * * * *

OR, WANTED A GODMOTHER.]

* * * * *

MATINÉE MANIA.

(_A SKETCH AT ANY THEATRE ON MOST AFTERNOONS._)

SCENE--_The Front of the House. In the Boxes and Dress-circle
are friends and relations of the_ Author. _In the Stalls are a
couple of Stray Critics who leave early, actors and actresses
"resting" more friends and relations. In the Pit, the front
row is filled by the_ Author's _domestic servants, the
landladies of several of the performers, and a theatrical
charwoman or two, behind them a sprinkling of the general
public, whose time apparently hangs heavily on their hands.
In a Stage-box is the_ Author _herself, with a sycophantic_
Companion. _A murky gloom pervades the Auditorium; a scratch
orchestra is playing a lame and tuneless Schottische for
the second time, to compensate for a little delay of fifteen
minutes between the first and second Tableaux in the Second
Act. The orchestra ceases, and a Checktaker at the Pit door
whistles "Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!" Some restless spirits stamp
feebly._

_The Author._ I wish they would be a _little_ quicker. I've a good mind to go behind myself and hurry them up. The audience are beginning to get impatient.

_Her Companion._ But that shows how _interested_ they are, _doesn't_ it, dear?

_Author._ I think it _ought_ to interest them, but I _did_ expect they would have shown a little more enthusiasm over that situation in the last _tableau_--they're rather a _cold_ audience!

_Comp._ It's above their heads, dear, that's where it is--plays are such rubbish nowadays, people don't appreciate a really _great_ drama just at first. I do hope Mr. IRVING, Mr. HARE and Mr. BEERBOHM TREE will come in--I'm sure they'll be only too _anxious_ to secure it!

_Author._ I don't know that I should care for it to come out at the Lyceum, but of course if the terms were very--oh, they're beginning at last! I hope this light comedy scene will go well. (_Curtain rises: Comic dialogue--nothing whatever to do with the plot--between a Footman and a Matinée Maidservant in short sleeves, a lace tucker, and a diamond necklace; depression of audience. Serious characters enter and tell one another long and irrelevant stories, all about nothing. When the auditor remarks,_ "Your story is indeed a sad one--but go on," _a shudder goes through the house, which becomes a groan ten minutes later when the listener says:_ "You have told me _your_ history--now hear _mine_!" _He tells it; it proves, if possible, duller and more irrelevant than the other man's. A love-scene follows, characterised by all the sparkle and brilliancy of "Temperance Champagne"; the House witnesses the fall of the Curtain with apathy._)

_Author._ That love-scene was perfectly _ruined_ by the acting! She _ought_ to have turned her head aside when he said, "Dash the teapot!" but she never _did_, and he left out _all_ that about dreaming of her when he was ill with measles in Mashonaland! I wish they wouldn't have such long waits, though. We timed the piece at rehearsal, and, with the cuts I made, it only played about four hours; but I'm afraid it will take longer than that to-day.

_Comp._ I don't care _how_ long it is--it's so _beautifully_ written!

_Author._ Well, I put my whole _soul_ into it, you know; but it's not till this next Act that I show my full power. [_Curtain rises on a drawing-room, furnished with dingy wrecks from the property-room--the home of_ JASPER, the Villain, _who is about to give an evening party. Enter a hooded crone._ "Sir JASPER, I have a secret of importance, which can only be revealed to your private ear!" (_Shivers of apprehension amongst the audience._) _Sir J._ "Certainly, go into yonder apartment, and await me there." (_Sigh of relief from spectators_.) _A Footman._ "Sir, the guests wait!" _Sir J._ (_with lordly ease_). "Bid them enter!" (_They troop in unannounced and sit down against the wall, entertaining one another in dumb-show._) _Footman_ (_re-entering_). "Sir, a roughly-dressed stranger, who says he knew you in Norway, under an _alias_, requests a few words." _Sir J._ "Confusion!--one of my former accomplices in crime--my guests must not be present at this interview!" (_To Guests._) "Ladies and Gentlemen, will you step into the adjoining room for a few minutes, and examine my collection of war-weapons?" (_Guests retire, with amiable anticipations of enjoyment. The Stranger enters, and tells another long story._) "I smile still," he concludes--"but even a _dead_ man's skull will smile. Allow me then the privileges of death!" (_At this an irreverent Pittite suddenly guffaws, and the Audience from that moment perceives that the piece possesses a humorous side. The Stranger goes; the Guests return. Re-enter Footman_). "Sir, an elderly man, who was acquainted with your family years ago, insists on seeing you, and will take no denial!" _Villain_ (_with presence of mind--to Guests._) "Ladies and Gentlemen, will you step into the neighbouring apartment, and join the dancers?" (_The Guests obey. The_ Elderly Man _enters, and denounces_ JASPER, _who mendaciously declares that he is his own second cousin_ JOSEPH; _whereupon the visitor turns down his coat-collar, and takes off a false beard._) "Do you know me now, JASPER SHOPPUN?" he cries. "_I_ am JOSEPH--your second cousin!"... "What, ho, Sir Insolence!" the Villain retorts. "And so you come to deliver me to Justice?"... "Not so," says JOSEPH. "Long years ago I swore to my dying Aunt to protect your reputation, even at the expense of my own. I come to warn you that"--&c., &c. (_The Audience, who are now in excellent spirits, receive every incident with uncontrollable merriment till the end of the Act. Another long wait, enlivened by a piccolo solo._)

_Author._ LAVINIA, it's _too_ disgraceful--it's a deliberate conspiracy to turn the piece into ridicule. I never thought my _own relations_ would turn against me--and yet I might have known!

_Comp._ It wasn't the _play_ they laughed at, dear--that's lovely--but it's so ridiculously _acted_, you know!

_Author._ Of course the acting _is_ abominable--but they might make allowances for _that_. It _is_ so unfair! [_The Play proceeds. The Heroine's jealousy has been excited by the Villain, for vague purposes of his own, and the Hero is trying to disarm her suspicions._ _She._ "But why are you constantly going from Paris to London at the beck and call of that man?" _He_ (_aside_). "If she only knew that I do it to shield my second cousin, JASPER--but my oath!--I cannot tell her! (_To her._) The reason is very simple, darling--he is my Private Secretary!" (_Roars of inextinguishable laughter, drowning the Wife's expressions of perfect satisfaction and confidence. The Hero wants to go out; the Wife begs him to stay; she has 'a presentiment of evil--a dread of something unseen, unknown.' He goes: the Villain enters in evening dress._) _Villain._ "Your husband is false to you. Meet me in half an hour at the lonely hut by the cross-roads, and you shall have proof of his guilt." (_The Wife departs at once, just as she is. Villain, soliloquising._) "So--my diabolical schemes prosper. I have got JOSEPH out of the way by stratagem, decoyed his wife--my early love--to a lonely hut, where my minions wait to seize her. Now to abduct the child, destroy the certificate of vaccination which alone stands between me and a Peerage, set fire to the home of my ancestors, accuse JOSEPH of all my crimes, and take my seat in the House of Lords as the Earl of Addelegg! Ha-ha--a good night's work! a good--" _Joseph_ (_from back_). "Not so. I have heard all. I will _not_ have it. You _shall_ not!" (_&c., &c._) _Villain._ "You would thwart my schemes?" _Joseph_ (_firmly_). "I would. My wife and child shall _not_--" (_&c., &c._) _Villain_ (_slowly_). "And the oath you swore to my Mother, your dying Aunt, would you break that?" _Joseph_ (_overcome_). "My oath! my Aunt! Ah, no, I cannot, I _must_ not break it. JASPER SHOPPUN, I am powerless--you must do your evil will!" (_He sinks on a settee: Triumph of Villain, tableau, and Curtain._)

_Author._ I wouldn't have _believed_ that a modern audience would treat heroic conduct like that as if it was _laughable_. It's enough to make one give up play-writing altogether!

_Comp._ Oh, I wouldn't do _that_, dear. You mustn't punish Posterity! [_The Play goes on and on; the Villain removes inconveniently repentant tools, and saddles the Hero with his nefarious deeds. The Hero is arrested, but reappears, at liberty, in the next Act (about the Ninth), and no reference whatever is made to the past. Old serious characters turn up again, and are welcomed with uproarious delight. At the end of a conversation, lasting a quarter of an hour, the Lady's-maid remarks that "her Mistress has been very ill, and must not talk too much." Cheers from Audience. General joy when the Villain returns a hopeless maniac. Curtain about six, and loud calls for Author._)

_Author._ Nothing will _induce_ me to take a call after the shameful way they've behaved! And it's all the fault of the acting. When we get home, I'll read the play all through to you again, and you'll see now it _ought_ to have been done! A hundred and twenty pounds simply thrown away!

[_Retires, consoled by her_ Companion, _and the consciousness
that true genius is invariably unappreciated._

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, March 21._--Uneasy feeling spread through House to-night consequent on question addressed by MACINNES to UNDER-SECRETARY FOR FOREIGN AFFAIRS. Wants to know "whether his attention has been called to the increase of drinking among Natives in the Coast Towns?" CAUSTON particularly depressed.

"I sat for Colchester for five years, you know," he said, "and grew into habit of regarding the Natives as my constituents. For five years never swallowed one without thinking I was reducing the number on the Register. Used to excuse myself on the ground that the particular bivalve that had disappeared must have been a Conservative, or it would never have been so stupid as to leave its comfortable bed to embark on such a journey. My interest in the oyster is now secondary. They don't flourish in Southwark; whelks more in our way down there. Still one cannot forget old associations, and confess I'm rather knocked over to hear this report MACINNES has brought up. Can't imagine anything more distressing than the spectacle of a drunken oyster--probably with dishevelled beard--coming home late at night and trying to get into another Native's shell under impression that he has recognised his own front door. Must see WILFRID LAWSON about this; get up an Oyster Temperance Society; framed certificates, blue ribbon, and all that, if the thing spreads, we shall have oysters emitting quite a rum-punch flavour when we add the lemon."

Gloom dissipated two hours later by appearance of BOBBY SPENCER at the Table. BOBBY doesn't often witch the House with oratory. Content with important though to outsiders obscure position he occupies in Party administration. His is the hand that pulls the strings to which Liberal Party dance. SCHNADHORST gets some credit, but everybody knows BOBBY's the man. To see these two political strategists in conference is sufficient to reassure the Liberal Party on the possible issues of the General Election.

SCHNADHORST complains that BOBBY has a trick, after addressing him through the ear-trumpet he (S.) carries in reminiscence of JOSHUA REYNOLDS, of putting his ear to the trumpet as if he expected the answer to arrive through that medium.

"Very embarrassing." SCHNADHORST says, "to have a fellow first putting his mouth and then his ear to other end of your trumpet. Sometimes I say to him, sharply, '_I_ don't speak through the trumpet.' 'Oh, no, of course not,' he says, 'I beg your pardon,' and draws away. Presently he's back again, politely, as I speak, applying his ear to the trumpet. But it's only the absence of mind that arises from preoccupation in matters of State."

BOBBY, besides being the political director of the strategy of the Liberal Party, is a County Member. It was in this last capacity he appeared at Table to-night in Debate on Second Reading of Small Holdings Bill. House received him with hearty cheer. No one more popular than BOBBY. Delight uproariously manifested when, daintily pulling at his abundant shirt-cuff, and settling his fair young head more comfortably upon summit of his monumental collar, he deprecatingly observed--

"Mr. SPEAKER, Sir, I am not an Agricultural Labourer."

The speech a model of Parliamentary debating, full of point, resting on sound argument, lucidly stated, and all over in five minutes. _Business done._--Debate on Small Holdings Bill.

_Tuesday_.--Morning Sitting. SEXTON at length worked off the speech on Irish Education Bill, that has hung over House like cloud since Bill was introduced in earliest days of Session. Wasn't in his place the first night; so friends and colleagues wore out the sitting to preserve his opportunity. When this next presented itself, SEXTON thought the hour and condition of House unsuitable for person of his consequence; declined to speak. To-day, his last chance, things worse than ever. Benches empty, as usual at Morning Sitting. But now or never, and at least there would be long report in Irish papers. So went at it by the hour. Finished at a quarter to five. At Morning Sitting, debate automatically suspended at ten minutes to seven; two hours and five minutes for everyone else to speak. SINCLAIR long waiting chance to thrust in his nose. Found it at last; but House wearied and worn out; glad when seven o'clock approached, and Bill read First Time.

At Evening Sitting, Lawyers had it all to themselves. ROBERTSON opened Debate on Law of Conspiracy in admirable speech. Later came LOCKWOOD, speaking disrespectfully of "B." Then SQUIRE OF MALWOOD, girding at SOLICITOR-GENERAL; MATTHEWS followed, with plump assertion that Squire had not been talking about the Resolution. Finally CHARLES RUSSELL, with demonstration that "the Right Hon. Gentleman (meaning MATTHEWS) had displayed a complete misconception of the character and objects of the Resolution." Being thus demonstrated upon unimpeachable authority that nobody knew anything about the Resolution, House proceeded to vote upon it. For, 180; against, 226. Ministerialists cheered; Opposition apparently equally delighted. So home I to bed, everyone determined first thing in morning get hold of newspaper, and see what the Resolution really was about. _Business done_.--Miscellaneous.

_Wednesday_.--"I wonder," said SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE, curiously regarding CHAMBERLAIN discoursing on the Eight Hours Bill, "whom JOE meant by his reference at Birmingham on Saturday night to 'the funny man of the House of Commons,'--'A man who has a natural taste for buffoonery, which he has cultivated with great art, who has a hatred of every Government and all kinds of restraint, and especially, of course, of the Government that happens to be in office.' Couldn't be HENEAGE, and I don't suppose he had JESSE in his mind at the moment. Pity a man can't make his points clearly. JOE used to be lucid enough. But he's falling off now in that as in other matters. Made me rub my eyes when I read his remarks about House of Lords, and remembered what he used to say on subject when he and I ran together. Certainly JOE is a man of courage. There are topics he might, with memory of past speeches, easily avoid or circumnavigate. But he goes straight at 'em, whether fence or ditch, takes them at a stride regardless of his former self, splashed with mud in the jump, or smitten with the horse's hoof. Makes me quite sentimental when I sit and listen to him, and recall days that are no more. _Mrs. Gummidge_ thinking of the Old 'Un is nothing to me thinking of the Young 'Un who came up from Birmingham in 1876, and who from '80 to '85 walked hand in hand with me.

We were patriots together.--Ah! placeman and peer
Are the patrons who smile on your labours to-day;
And Lords of the Treasury lustily cheer
Whatever you do and whatever you say.
Go, pocket, my JOSEPH, as much as you will,
The times are quite altered we very well know;
But will you not, will you not, talk to us still,
As you talked to us once long ago, long ago?

We were patriots together!--I know you will think
Of the cobbler's caresses, the coalheaver's cries,
Of the stones that we throw, and the toasts that we drink
Of our pamphlets and pledges, our libels and lies!
When the truth shall awake, and the country and town
Be heartily weary of BALFOUR & CO.,
My JOSEPH, hark back to the Radical frown,
Let us be what we were, long ago, long ago!"

"Bless me," I cried, "how beautiful! I didn't know that, among your many accomplishments, you were given to dropping into poetry."

"Tut, tut!" said the SAGE, blushing, "it isn't all my own; written years ago by MACKWORTH PRAED, about JOHN CAM HOBHOUSE. I've only brought it up to date."

_Business done_.--Eight Hours' Bill thrown out on a Division.

_Thursday_.--Private O'GRADY, of the Welsh Fusiliers, the hero of the hour. His annals short and simple. Got up early in the morning of St. Patrick's Day; provided himself with handful of shamrock, which he stuck in his glengarry. (_Note_.--O'GRADY, an Irishman, belongs to a Welsh Regiment, and, to complete the pickle, wears a Scotch cap.) The ignorant Saxon officer in command observing the patriot muster with what he, all unconscious of St. Patrick's Day, thought was "a handful of greens" in his cap, instructed the non-commissioned officer to order him to take it out.

"I won't do't," said gallant Private O'GRADY, the hot Celtic blood swiftly brought to boiling pitch by this insult to St. Patrick. Irish Members vociferously cheered when STANHOPE read the passage from Colonel's report. Another non-commissioned officer advancing from the rear, repeated order.

"I won't do't!" roared the implacable Private O'GRADY.

Once more the Irish Members burst into cheering, whilst a soldier in uniform in Strangers' Gallery looked on and listened. Would like to hear his account of scene confided to comrades in privacy of barrack-room.

When STANHOPE finished reading report of officer commanding battalion, Irish Members leaped to their feet in body, each anxious to stand shoulder to shoulder with Private O'GRADY defying the Saxon. NOLAN, who had set ball rolling, might have got in first, but was so excited as to be momentarily speechless; could only paw at the air in direction of Treasury Bench where STANHOPE sat, PAT O'BRIEN, ARTHUR O'CONNOR, the wily WEBB, and the flaccid FLYNN, all shouting together. But SEXTON beat them all, and will duly figure in Parliamentary Report as Vindicator of Nationality, Defender of St. Patrick, and Patron of Private O'GRADY.

"There's nothing new about Ireland," said POLTALLOCH, talking the matter over later in the Lobby. "'Tis the most distressful country that ever yet was seen, Where they punish T. O'GRADY For the wearing of the Green."

_Business done_.--Small Holdings Bill read Second Time.

_Friday Night_.--House behaved nobly to-night; FENWICK brought forward Motion proposing payment of Members. House arbiter of situation; might have voted itself anything a year it pleased. Only say the word, and JOKIM would have been bound to find the money. Members flocked down in large numbers: CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN, seated on Front Opposition Bench, declares he could distinctly hear smacking of lips of Hon. Members below Gangway when FENWICK observed he thought £365 a year would be reasonable allowance. However insidious temptation may have been, it was nobly resisted. Of nearly 400 Members who took part in Division, only 162 reached out their hand for the pittance, 227 lofty souls going into other Lobby.

_Business done_.--Private Bill Procedure Bill brought in.

* * * * *

* * * * *

VERY ORCHID!

["The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that the
life of a Peer is not a happy one."--_Mr. Chamberlain, before
the Jewellers' and Silversmiths' Association at Birmingham_.]

The Orchid is a thoughtful plant--it loves the lordly hot-house,
And naturally reprobates poor gilliflowers as "pot-house;"
'Tis rich, exotic, somewhat miscellaneously florid;
The rough herbaceous annuals it vulgar deems, and horrid.

With all that's forced and precious it should fraternise in reason,
With luscious fruits and rarest roots, and produce out of season;
It may perhaps at primroses a condescending hand point;
It might be friends with stocks--but from a pure commercial
standpoint.

And yet--it is a thoughtful plant--though such a growth fastidious,
The proud but simple strawberry still seems to it invidious;
Those ducal leaves that shine and twine around the nation's garden,
It fancies more delectable than all the blooms of Hawarden.

This orchid's bosom bleeds to feel that, while he flaunts in colour,
The chaplet of the strawberry should duller pine and duller,
That obsoleteness, though delayed, should still be on the _tapis_,
That, pending its extinction, its existence isn't happy.

O courtly leaves of strawberries, old England's grace and glory,
Emblazoned o'er the castle-keeps that moulder nigh and hoary,
What comfort for your drooping days, what balm in dire dejection,
That yonder orchid spruce extends his shelter and protection.

But, garland sere of Vere de Vere, wan ornaments of Fable,
The orchid is a thoughtful plant, and likes a gorgeous table;
And, should from out your coronals one berry bright be shining,
His patronage may snap it up--to save it from declining!

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