Chapter I: Preface

The life of what still passes in London for “Bohemia”--in and about the theatres, the studios and the literary clubs--figures conspicuously in the pictorial humour of our time. It is but natural that the artist in search of inspiration should occasionally turn his attention to his own immediate surroundings, and find subjects for his art in the comic representation of his fellows of the brush and pencil, his friends the authors and the actors, and not infrequently, himself! Some of the most pointed jokes of Keene, Du Maurier and Phil May introduced “the artist,” and in the case of the last mentioned he usually depicted his own form and features, as Cruikshank was fond of doing more than half a century before him.

This tradition has been well maintained among the artists of a later day. We shall find that a very considerable proportion of the humorous art of the moment concerns itself with the sayings and doings of our Bohemians--a term, by the way, that indicates a very mild and inoffensive variety of an almost extinct type of character.

The Bohemian of the twentieth century is a much more wholesome person than his prototype of the middle of the nineteenth. He may be still as irresponsible, as unconventional in his manners, but he is at least clean and less apt to degenerate into the “sponger.” He of the older generation provided picturesque material for the humorist of the pencil; but the stage, the study, and the studio still furnish much matter for mirth, as the admirable work of Mr. W. K. Haselden, Mr. Bert Thomas, Mr. H. M. Bateman, Mr. J. L. C. Booth, Mr. Charles Pears, and other living artists of note, represented in the present collection, bear ample witness.

It is obvious from the Index that this volume contains a most representative survey of its subject, and is probably second-to-none in THE FUN LIBRARY for the high spirits and good humour which it reflects. The collection ranges from the day of Cruikshank onward, and presents many examples of such talented artists of the past as Fred Barnard, Du Maurier, Keene, Leech, Phil May, Doyle, and many others, as well as examples of Mr. Gordon Thomson, the veteran survivor of the merry men who made _Fun_ and _Judy_ serious rivals of _Punch_ fifty years ago.

The sources from which the illustrations have been drawn are much the same as those that have provided the other volumes of THE FUN LIBRARY. In the present volume there is a particularly fine selection from the work of Mr. Haselden, reprinted here by special permission of the editor of _The Daily Mirror_, and it also contains an important series by the late Phil May, reprinted by arrangement with _The Sketch_, while we are indebted to Mr. Gilbert Dalziel for permission to use a considerable number of excellent items from _Fun_ and _Judy_, with which journals he was so long and honourably associated. To Mr. Punch’s collections of the “’sixties” we owe the numerous examples of Leech, Keene and Du Maurier at their best.

In brief, it may be claimed for “Stage, Study and Studio” that the collection is fully up to the high standard we have sought to maintain in all the volumes of THE FUN LIBRARY.

J. A. H.

TO THE ILLUSTRATIONS

PANTOMIMICS
PAGE

Rehearsing the “fish” ballet 1
Billy and Bunny 3
Winning the gloves 4
Modern languages taught in one lesson 5
Theatre Royal--Nursery 6
An ex(bus)horse-tive argument 7
A pict-ure 8
A swallow out of season 9
“With a neck like that” 11
Experienced young fellow 12
Two transformation scenes 13
Not the correct way of pudding it 15
Humanizing influence of pantomime 16

ON THE STAGE AND OFF

Prompt but not prepared 17
A wordless story 18
English as she is spoke 23
Cassius 24
Acting under difficulties 25
Ever-popular criminal on the stage 27
On the stage--and off 28-9
When actors are Members of Parliament 31
When actors become modest 32
“Still running” 33
The part of Hamlet 34
Good and bad business at the theatre 35
“A little padding” 37
The actor’s one topic--himself 39
A side-box talk 40
The bald baron 41-4

FUN AT THE PLAY

“Are you sitting on my hat?” 45
Delights of theatre-going 46-7
“Not so long as four solos” 49
A little ruse 50
A morning concert 52
Pit, boxes, and gallery 54
Playgoers and their eccentricities 56
Credit where credit is due 57
A “civil” retort 58

AMONG THE AMATEURS

At a fancy ball 61
Private theatricals 63
Private theatricals at the Titwillows’ 65

THE POETS’ CORNER

Portrait of a gentleman 67
The poets illustrated 69
No! Don’t 70
The poets illustrated 74
“Mariar Martin, or the Red Baarn” 75
An illustrated edition of the poets 77-9
Poets and their patrons 80

MAINLY ABOUT AUTHORS

Would-be novelist 85
Lady Audley’s secret 86
Perfect sincerity, or, thinkings aloud 88
The ancient Britons 88
A rural study 89
“The great cypher work” 90
Author’s miseries 92-7
Harris-ing reflections 99
“Hemily Fitz-Hosborn” 100

THE EDITOR IN HIS DEN

The editor at home 101
Romance of advertising 103
“Pirates surprised at sunset” 104
Fancy portrait--Oliver Twist 105
A fact! 106
A new reading 111

STUDIES FROM THE STUDY

“He’s sent the books” 113
Returned--with thanks 114
A queer cut 115
The pursuit of letters 116
Grand march of Intellect 116
Catalogue of the letter P. 117
The age of intellect 118
Subject for a picture 119
An awful apparition 121
The musical neighbour 123
British Museum catalogue 124
Analytical papers 125
“Couldn’t read Miss Frump’s new book” 127
The philosopher’s revenge 129-136

FUN IN THE STUDIO

“Present company always excepted!” 137
“Very tiring” 138
Wholesale 139
“Qualifications” 140
Behind the scenes 141
“Asking for it” 142
The commercial side 143
Gaddy’s academy picture on view 144
“Flattering” 145
Profession and practice 146
A rapid genius 147
“English langweege” 148
“Only their mothers” 149
For exhibition? 150
Pretty innocent 151
“Aye, there’s the rub!” 152
“Work hard and get your own living” 153
March of science 154
The real 154
Pleasures of the studio 155
A happy medium 155
The ideal 156
Two principal figures 157
Answers for our artist 158
The mother of invention 159
Kindly meant 160
“Where’s your beard?” 160
How some old painters must have worked 161
Studio persuasion 162
“A portrait painter” 163
Model husband and a lay figure 164
Marvellous! 165
A visit to the studio 166
Scene in a studio 167
Ballet of action 168
Turps _v._ Turpitude 169
One use for “Dundrearys” 169
Accommodating! 170
“Lucky fellow!!” 171
“Noblesse oblige!” 172
Our art-school conversazione 173
“Only one spur a-piece” 174
“Sharp’s the word” 175
The sympathies of art 176
Under a great master 176
“Sent it to the wash!” 177
“Ugly and as ridiculous as possible” 178
Perfect sincerity; or, thinkings aloud 179
Easily satisfied 180
Compliments of the season 181
“Skyed” 182

ROUND THE GALLERIES

Caution 183
Painters and gazers 185
An artist’s dream 186
“Athletic exercises” 187
Let them exhibit their pictures outside 188
Pleasures of the Royal Academy 189
Art in the National Gallery 190
Outside the Royal Academy 191
Charming fashion of long skirts 192
“Unto this last” 193
“Very like--very like” 194
The umbrella question 195
Pictures of the English, painted by the French 196
A-musing 197
Perhaps 198
Reception of pictures at Royal Academy 199
Our historical portrait gallery 200-1
A study 202
Overheard at the Academy 203
Suggestions for the Royal Academy catalogue 206

THE ARTIST OUT OF DOORS

“It’s an ill wind,” etc. 207
The old cottage 208
The elysium of artists 209
“A pretty prospect” 210
Possibilities of a penny pistol and a box of caps 211
Technical and practical 212
“Impertinent curiosity of the vulgar” 213
“That pre-Raphaelite fellow” 214
Where ignorance is bliss 215
Design for an album 216
Studying skies 217
Culture for the million 218
An artist scamp in the Highlands 220
Ingenious protection against midges 221
Sketching from Nature 222
“Very nearly a pound” 223
Art at a cattle show 224
What an artist has to put up with 224
Enjoying himself in the Highlands 225
“Compliments of the (sketching) season” 226
“Fine Art” 227
“Brother Brush” 228
Making the best of it 229
One reason, certainly! 230
Æsthetics 230
A broad hint 231
Pleasant for Jack Daubs 231
Flattering! 232
Our adventurous artist 233
Art and science 234
An eye for colour 235
Ignorance _was_ bliss 235
Our artist 236

SCULPTURE AND COMEDY

“Well broke!” 237
Venus of Milo 238
“Ingenuas didicisse” 241
At the great exhibition of 1861 243
Popular history 244
Capital punishment 245
A flagrant attempt 246

FUNNY FILMS: HUMOURS OF PHOTOGRAPHY

“Many a true word spoke in jest” 247
Bobby’s camera 249
Interesting group posed for a photograph 250-251
Happy thought 252-253
Pleasant for Simpkins 254
Unanswerable 255
Can the camera lie? 256
The artistic(!) studio 257
“What for?” 259
Portrait of a distinguished photographer 260
A photographic picture 261
Encouragement of art 263
“A florid complexion” 265
Artful! 266
Subject for a picture 267
Photographic beauties 268

WANDERING MINSTRELS

Christmas waits 269
Division of labour 271
Culture for the million 273
Nothing like advertising yourself 275
Sketch from a study window 277

THROUGH THE OPERA GLASSES

The opera 281
What indeed? 284
“French without a master” 285
We don’t sing enough 287
The high note 288
The low note 289
“Only twenty-two” 291
Culture for the million 292
Gentle rebuke 293

CHIEF ARTISTS REPRESENTED

ADAMS, JACK. 29.
BARNARD, FRED. 9, 69, 74, 76-9, 99, 115, 147, 160, 169, 176, 206, 220,
244.
BATEMAN, H. M. 3, 208, 288-9, 291.
BEDE, CUTHBERT. 58.
BOOTH, J. L. C. 50, 90, 138, 190.
BRENTNALL, E. F. 212.
BROMLEY, V. W. 146.
BROWNE, W. G. A. 234.
BRUNTON, W. S. 154, 185, 235, 296.
BULL, RENÉ. 18.
COOPER, T. G. 155.
CRUIKSHANK, GEORGE. 24, 54, 116, 118, 178, 216, 279, 280.
DAUBENY, HESKETH. 104.
DOYLE, RICHARD. 84, 124, 200-1, 209, 269.
DU MAURIER, GEORGE. 65, 67, 89, 129-136, 141, 157-9, 192, 218, 229,
238, 252, 253, 263, 271, 273, 292, 293.
GRISET, ERNEST. 161.
HASELDEN, W. K. 25, 27, 31, 32, 35, 39, 46, 47, 56, 57, 189, 287.
HOWARD, CAPT. H. R. 222.
KEENE, CHARLES. 91, 101, 139, 143-5, 168, 172, 173, 175, 182, 193,
195, 198, 207, 213, 217, 223, 226-8, 230, 232, 233, 241, 245, 254,
255, 265, 285.
LAWSON, F. W. 75.
LEECH, JOHN. 4, 8, 63, 70, 86, 88, 100, 114, 119, 121, 123, 155, 166,
167, 179, 180, 196, 243, 246, 251, 256-7, 267, 268, 277, 281, 284.
LEETE, ALFRED. 45.
MAY, PHIL. 1, 11, 23, 37, 61, 137, 148, 149, 237, 247, 259.
MAYBANK, THOMAS. 81-3.
PEARS, CHARLES. 211, 249.
PROCTOR, J. 162.
SANDERCOCK, H. 106, 125, 150.
THACKERAY, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE. 286.
THOMAS, BERT. 34, 49, 191.
THOMSON, GORDON. 6, 14, 15, 16, 152, 197, 203.
WALL, A. H. 194.
WEIGAND, W. J. 17.
WRIGHT, FRANK. 215.

PRINCIPAL LITERARY CONTENTS

PAGE
PLAYERS’ PRANKS 2
EMMA AND ULPHO 19
HUMOURS OF THE PLAYHOUSE 22
SCENERY AND COSTUME OF THE STAGE 48
ASS YOU LIKE IT 55
HAMLET’S LAST SOLILOQUY 58
AT THE MASQUERADE 60
AMATEUR FLUTE-PLAYER 62
ONLY SEVEN 64
LYCEUM LYRICS 66
THE POETS AT PLAY 68
MOTLEY’S KINGDOM 76
MY MANUSCRIPTS 81
A MAN I HATE 84
MARK TWAIN AND THE KEY 87
HUMOURS OF THE PRINTING HOUSE 91
HARRIS-ING REFLECTIONS 98
HUMOURS OF ADVERTISING 102
APPROVED BY THE EDITOR 109
RULES FOR NEWSPAPER CORRESPONDENTS 110
LITERARY FLUNKEYISM 112
HUMOURS OF OUR LANGUAGE 114
MORE HUMOURS OF ADVERTISING 120
HE NEVER CALLED AGAIN 126
A DANGEROUS WRITER 128
PAINTERS AND GAZERS 184
A DREAM OF UNFAIR WOMEN 204
IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS 209
PYRAMUS AND THISBE 239
PHOTOGRAPHIC FAILURES 248
THE PHOTOGRAPHS 258
MRS BROWN AND THE GERMAN BAND 270
STREET MUSICIANS 280
THE BOHEMIAN GIRL 282
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE OPERA 286
A WOMAN’S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN 290
THE ONION GIRL 294

REHEARSING THE “FISH” BALLET (A FACT).

STAGE MANAGER. What are you, boy?

BOY. Please, sir, I’m a whelk.]

PLAYERS’ PRANKS

Practical joking might correctly be described as a remnant of the
barbaric ages, when strength and muscle received the respect we now
award to mind and brain. Indeed, it still passes current among modern
barbarians for humour, while in civilized States, where humour is
something that appeals to the intellect, joking in the practical sort
is generally regarded as buffoonery. Having admitted thus much, it may
be said that even practical joking is not all bad, and is sometimes “a
source of innocent merriment.”

Joking of the practical kind is very often a pronounced characteristic
of the actor, as the countless stories of players and their pranks
abundantly prove. The reason for this is most likely to be found in
the fact that it requires something of the actor’s talent successfully
to carry out a practical joke, and actors, knowing they possess the
ability, are often tempted to exercise it. The name of the genial J.
L. Toole, of happy memory, will naturally occur to every one in this
connexion, and the fact of that good-hearted soul having had a strong
weakness for this diversion is ample proof that practical joking is
quite compatible with geniality of character. The stories that are
told of Toole and those which he told of himself would easily fill a
couple of volumes. For the purpose of the present chapter a typical
one will suffice.

IRATE PARENT (_in front row_) OF SMALL BOY ASSISTING CONJUROR. Disobedient young monkey! Why, it was only last week I forbade him to keep rabbits.]

From the grand pugilistic ballet of the fight for the championship, which might, could, should, and ought to be played at one of the operas.]

GERMAN PROFESSOR (_on “la Perche”_) _to Italian ditto below_. Be steadier, Bill, will yer, or I’m blowed if I don’t come down!]

The comedian once entered a dairy, and solemnly remarked to the
shopman--“I will take a boy,” with a glance at his shelves. “A boy,
sir?” asked the puzzled shopman. “Yes, or a girl,” replied the
comedian. The man never doubted but his visitor was a lunatic, and
said, mildly--“Pardon me, this is a milkshop.” “Come outside,” said
Toole, and taking the dairyman by the arm he led him out of the shop
and pointed to the sign. “I’ll take a boy or a girl,” he solemnly
repeated. “Read what your notice states--‘Families supplied in any
quantity.’”

E. A. Sothern, the famous “Lord Dundreary,” had an insatiable
propensity for practical joking, and many are the stories of his
pranks. One of the most amusing, though, perhaps, a little cruel,
tells of his treatment of his guests on the occasion of a dinner party
to a number of congenial souls. They were all assembled but one, who
was rather late. After waiting a few minutes, the host suddenly
exclaimed--“Here he comes--let’s all get under the table--make haste.”
Anticipating a joke, they all scrambled under, except Sothern himself.
Enter guest--“Hallo! where are all the other fellows?” “Oh, they all
got under the table when they heard you coming. I’m sure, I don’t
know why.” The ignominous crawling forth one by one that ensued can
safely be left to the imagination of the reader.

Master Reginald’s tender years having prevented his attendance at the Pantomime, Messrs. Tom, Charlie and Co. kindly give him a _résumé_ of the evening’s performance.]

It is always a good thing when we find the subject of a practical joke
joining good-naturedly in the mirth, and this we have in a story told
by the late Mr. G. A. Sala of a joke played upon him by Lord
Dundreary. “I remember going down to the Derby,” writes the famous
journalist, “in a highly festive fashion, with poor Edward Sothern,
the never-to-be forgotten Lord Dundreary. On this particular day
Sothern, the kindest, but still the most provoking of practical
jokers, was as full of mischievous pranks as an egg is full of meat.
He offered to bet me a guinea before we reached Clapham that I would
lose my temper, and lose it badly, before 2 p.m. ‘But why, my dear
Sothern,’ I asked, ‘should I lose it? The weather is beautiful, I did
my work by getting up at six this morning, I am in the best of all
good company, and I haven’t got a penny on the race.’ ‘Never mind,’
persisted Lord Dundreary, ‘I will bet you one guinea that you will
blaze up like a vesuvian thrown into the fire before 2 p.m.’

MAZEPPA. Now, just you bang that ’bus door smarter to-night, or the old hoss’ll never get a good start.

CARPENTER. All right, miss. Cue’s “wild career.”

[_N.B.--The noble steed is an old “Favourite.”_]

Show-ing what Mas-ter Tom did af-ter see-ing a pan-to-mime--but you would not do so--oh dear no!--be-cause you are a good boy.]

_Scene_--Boxing-night.

GENTLEMAN IN FRONT (_bawling_). ’Ar-_reee!!!_

’ARRY, AT BACK. ’Ullo!!

G. IN F. (_as before_). Where’s Bill-_leee!!_

’ARRY. Why, the young beggar’s been an’ swallered his sixpence in the crowd, and they won’t let ’im in!]

“It was half-past one when we reached the course, and one of the
officious red-jackets who haunt the Hill stepped forward and gave me
the customary brush down. I strolled a few paces onward, when another
red-jacket pounced down on me, and, notwithstanding my expostulations,
brushed me down again, hissing meanwhile as though he were grooming a
horse. I essayed to light a cigar, when a third brush-fiend was upon
me; but when a fourth made his appearance, brandishing his implement
of torture, the dams of my long pent-up temper broke down, and a
torrent of adjectives, the reverse of complimentary, flowed over the
fourth brush-demon. My wrath was at its height when I found myself
quickly tapped on the shoulder, and beheld the maliciously chuckling
countenance of Sothern. ‘I will trouble you for one guinea,’ he said,
and proceeded to explode with laughter. Of course he had followed me
about, and feed the brush-fiends to harry me to desperation.”

W. J. Florence, a well-known American comedian in his day, was very
much on a par with Sothern in the matter of practical joking, and the
story of a good-natured trick he played on the latter, as related by
himself in one of his posthumous papers, is very entertaining.
“Meeting Sothern on Broadway one fine morning,” so the story goes, “I
told him that there was an oat for him at the Fifth Avenue Hotel,
taking care to pronounce my words in such a careless, inarticulate way
that the genial comedian thought I said there was a note for him at
the hostelry I had named. He accordingly started off post-haste up
town--we had met near the battery, whither we both had strolled for a
morning constitutional--to get his oat. When he reached the Fifth
Avenue Hotel and the clerk, in response to his inquiry, handed him out
the grain of oats which I had left for him, he saw the joke
immediately, and laughed at it most heartily, devoting the remainder
of the day to telling everybody he met what a capital joke Florence
had played on him.”

The late Fred Leslie was another popular comic actor who, like Sothern
and Toole and so many of “the profession” past and present, was never
so happy as when planning some harmless practical joke, which was
always sure to amuse every one concerned. One of his most successful
efforts in this direction was made during his tour in America with the
Gaiety Company, and is related by the late Clement Scott in his
recollections of this celebrated comedian.

_Scene No. 1._--“The Rosy Realms of Boundless Bliss.”

_Scene No. 2._--_En route_ from Rosy Realms to Rag-and-Bottle Alley, St. Giles’s.]

One night (says Mr. Scott) several of his _confrères_ had been invited
to a supper, and the number included the musical director of the
theatre they were then playing at. His absence from the orchestra
nearly the entire evening in question was generally commented on, and
it subsequently leaked out that he had been busily employed composing
the music of a song which he intended to submit to them for approval
before the party broke up. The night being a fine one, it was agreed
to walk from the theatre to the house of their host. The composer,
when he sallied from the stage door, was seen to have a huge roll of
music, carefully tied up, peeping from one of his overcoat pockets.
This was just as carefully abstracted, and some one was deputed to
stroll leisurely onward and engage the victim in apparently earnest
conversation, while the rest remained behind and committed the music
to memory, after which the manuscript was skilfully returned without
arousing the slightest suspicion.

At the termination of the meal, and before the musician could reach
the piano, Leslie began to whistle a few bars of the melody, which, it
is scarcely necessary to add, attracted universal attention. When
pressed to continue, Leslie gave the air from beginning to end, and
when, at the conclusion, he remarked that it was an old English
ballad, cold beads of perspiration gathered on the forehead of the
unhappy composer. His solemn asseveration that he had that evening
written an original melody to the same air, note for note, was
received on every hand with apparent unbelief; and in order to verify
Leslie’s statement, most of those present followed his lead and sang
or whistled the composition through. The musician, we are told, was
allowed to play it over, and the resemblance, of course, was so
striking that he himself began to doubt his own sanity. But when he
came to know of the trick by which he had been bamboozled, he enjoyed
the joke as much as those who carried it out.

MASTER GUSSY. Oh, boohoo! What a shame to go throwing plum-pudding about like that!]

DEPRAVED CHILD. Oh, mamma, do look, the clown’s been and run a red-hot poker right through that policeman--_isn’t it fun?_]

PROMPT BUT NOT PREPARED.

[_The call-boy has just called that distinguished amateur_ Muddle, _who is doing_ Iago _for the first time_.]

MUDDLE. Very odd! Knew every word of it this morning, too, but I’ll be hanged if I can remember how it begins!]

EMMA AND ULPHO

A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS

WRITTEN FOR EASTER, SANCTIONED BY THE LORD CHAMBERLAIN, BUT REJECTED BY ALL THE THEATRES.

ACT I.

(_A dark night. The curtain rises, and discovers nobody on the stage._)

(ULPHO _speaks_.) How dark it is.

(_He is answered by a hollow voice which is inaudible._)

ULPHO. I do not feel comfortable, nor as I once did. (_Sighs._)

(_The stage gradually fills till Ulpho is forced forward to the
footlights, which go out. The crowd parts asunder suddenly, and a
figure comes slowly forward._)

FIGURE. (_Says nothing._)

ULPHO. I feel chilly.

(_Figure smiles contemptuously and puts his hands in his breeches’
pockets. He then addresses Ulpho silently, and, after hesitating more
than once, breaks down at last altogether._)

ACT II.

(_Still darker night. Graves spring their rattles and watchmen open.
Fate is seen sitting in the background in the shape of a policeman. A
glow-worm roars, and the side-scenes shake perceptibly. The moon,
which has been slowly rising, falls suddenly down._)

ULPHO. Unfortunate moon!

EMMA. Will you never cease to despond?

ULPHO. Nothing on earth shall ever induce me.

(_He takes his cap from his head, and hangs it carefully on a
hat-stand. In a fit of desperation he begins to tear his hair from his
head. Emma sinks into a swoon, and leaving Ulpho in the centre of the
stage, she goes off at both wings._)