Various - Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, December 3, 1892
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Various >> Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103, December 3, 1892
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 103.
December 3, 1892.
THE MAN WHO WOULD.
III.--THE MAN WHO WOULD GET ON.
"I dreamed," said the Scotch Professor, "that I was struggling for
dear life with a monstrous reptile, whose scaly coils wound about my
body, while the extremity of his own was lost in the distance. At last
I managed to shake myself free, and setting my foot on his neck, I
was preparing to cut his throat, when the animal looked up at me with
an appealing expression, and said, 'At least you might give me a
testimonial!'"
This professional nightmare (for the labours of a Scotch instructor
consist, to a great extent, in writing testimonials, or in evading
requests for them), suggested to one of his audience the history of
SAUNDERS MCGREGOR, the Man who would Get on. In boyhood, SAUNDERS
obtained an exhibition, or bursary, to the University of St. Mungo's.
This success implied no high degree of scholarship, for the benefice
was only open to persons of the surname of MCGREGOR, and the
Christian-name of SAUNDERS. The provident parents of our hero, having
accidentally become aware of this circumstance, had their offspring
christened SAUNDERS, and thus secured, from the very first, an opening
for the young man.
[Illustration]
At St. Mungo's, SAUNDERS was mainly notable for a generous view of
life, which enabled him to look on the goods of others as practically
common among Christians. A pipe of his own he somehow possessed,
but tobacco and lights he invariably borrowed, also golf-balls,
postage-stamps, railway fares, books, caps, gowns, and similar
trifles; while his nature was so social, that he invariably dropped in
to supper with one or other of his companions. The accident of being
left alone for a few moments in the study of our Examiner, where
SAUNDERS deftly possessed himself of a set of examination-papers,
enabled him to take his degree with an ease and brilliance which very
considerably astonished his instructors. By adroitly using his good
fortune, SAUNDERS accumulated a pile of most egregious testimonials,
and these he regarded as the mainspring of success in life. He had
early discovered in himself a singular capacity for drawing salaries,
and as he had unbounded conceit and unqualified ignorance, he
conceived himself to be fit for any post in life to which a salary is
attached. He had also really great gifts as a _crampon_, or hanger-on,
and neglected no opportunity, while he made many, of securing useful
acquaintances. Thus it was the custom of his college to elect,
at stated periods, a man of eminence as Rector. SAUNDERS at once
constituted himself secretary of a committee, and, without consulting
his associates, wrote invitations to eminent politicians, poets,
painters, actors, editors, clergymen, and other people much in the
public eye. In these effusions he poured forth the innocent enthusiasm
of his heart, expressing an admiration which might seem excessive to
all but its objects. They, with the guilelessness of mature age and
conscious merit, were touched by SAUNDERS'S expressions of esteem,
which they set down to hero-worship, and a fervent study of Mr.
CARLYLE'S works. Only one of the persons addressed, unluckily,
could be elected; but SAUNDERS added their responses to his pile
of testimonials, and frequently gave them good epistolary reason to
remember his existence and his devotion.
His earliest object was to become secretary to somebody or something,
the Prime Minister, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, the Society
for the Protection of Aborigines, or Ancient Monuments, or even as
Secretary to the Carlton Club, SAUNDERS felt he could do his talents
justice in any of these positions. If anything was to be had, SAUNDERS
was the boy to ask for it; nay more, to ask other people to ask.
Private Secretaryships to Ministers, or societies, or great Clubs,
are not invariably given to the first applicant who comes along, even
if he appeals to testimonials in the Junior Mathematical Class from
Professor MCGLASHAN of St. Mungo's. But SAUNDERS was not daunted. He
would write to one notable, informing him that his grandmother had
been at a parish school with the notable's great uncle--on which
ground of acquaintanceship he would ask that the notable should
at once get him a post as Secretary of a Geological Society, or as
Inspector of Manufactories, or of Salmon Fisheries, or to a Commission
on the Trade of Knife-grinding.
Another notable he would tell that he had once been pointed out
to him in a railway station, therefore he was emboldened to ask
his correspondent to ask his Publisher, to get at the Editor of
the _Times_, and recommend him, SAUNDERS, as Musical Critic,
or Sub-editor, or Society Reporter. Nor did SAUNDERS neglect
Professorships, and vacant Chairs. His testimonials went in for all
of them. He was equally ready and qualified to be Professor of Greek,
Metaphysics, Etruscan, Chemistry, or the Use of the Globes, while
Biblical criticism and Natural Religion, prompted his wildest
yearnings. Though ignorant of foreign languages, he was prepared to
be a correspondent anywhere, and though he was purely unlearned in all
matters, he proposed to edit Dictionaries and Encyclopaedias, of course
with the assistance of a large and competent staff. His proofs of
capacity for a series of occupations that would have staggered a
CRICHTON, was always attested by his old College testimonials, for
SAUNDERS was of opinion that the courteous _obiter dictum_ of a
Professor was an Open Sesame to all the golden gates of the world.
Meanwhile, he supported existence by teaching the elements of the
classic languages, with which he had the most distant acquaintance, to
little boys, at a Day School. But one of these pupils came home, one
afternoon, in tears, having been beaten on the palms of the hands
with a leathern strap, in addition to the task of writing out the
verb [Greek: tupto]. This punishment was inflicted because, in
accordance with SAUNDERS'S instructions, he had represented the
Cyclops of Euripides as "sweeping the stars with a rake." The
original words of the Athenian poet do not bear this remarkable
construction, so SAUNDERS was dismissed from the only work which he
had ever made even a pretence of doing. He has not the energy, nor
the lungs necessary for the profession of an agitator; he has not
the grammar required in a penny-a-liner, he cannot cut hair, and his
manners unfit him for the occupation of a shop-assistant, so that
little is left open to SAUNDERS but the industry of the Blackmailer.
The office of Secretary to a Missionary in a Leper settlement, on an
island of Tierra Del Fuego, is, however, vacant; and, if the many
important personages with whom SAUNDERS has corresponded will only
make a united effort, it is possible that the Man who would Get
on may at last be got off, and relieve society from the burden of
his solicitations. May the comparative failure in life of SAUNDERS
MCGREGOR act as a warning to those who think that they shall be
heard, by men, for their much asking!
P.S.--This does not apply to women. We have just been informed that
Mr. SAUNDERS MCGREGOR, M.A., is about to lead to the altar the only
and orphan daughter of the late ALISTER MCFUNGUS, Esq., of Castle
Fungus, Dreepdaily, N.B., the eminent introducer of remarkably
improved processes in the manufacture of Heel-ball.
* * * * *
"ONE DOWN, T'OTHER COME ON!"--Mr. HORACE SEDGER has a _Prima Donna_
supply always on tap. After two of them have retired from the
principal part in _Incognita_, the lively Miss AIDA JENOURE--("'Aid
'em JENOURE,' she ought to be called," quoth Mr. WAGGSTAFF)--comes to
the rescue, and "on we goes again" with an excellent _danseuse_, too,
thoroughly in earnest, as her name implies, which sounds like Miss
Sin-cere and is written Miss ST. CYR.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE FIGHT FOR THE STANDARD.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: A MERE DETAIL.
_Friend of the Family._ "WEEL, MRS. M'GLASGIE, AND HOW'S YOUR DAUGHTER
DOIN', THE ONE THAT WAS MARRIED A WHILE AGO?"
_Mrs. M'Glasgie._ "OH, VARRA WEEL, THANK YE, MR. BROWN, VARRA WEEL,
INDEED! SHE CANNA ABIDE HER MAN. BUT THEN, YE KEN, THERE'S AYE A
SOMETHING!!"]
* * * * *
THE FIGHT FOR THE STANDARD.
(_MODERN MONETARY VERSION._)
'Twas the gallant Golden Knight downed his visor for the fight.
All true champions delight in hard tussles.
With his yellow Standard reared at his back, no foe he feared,
And his gaze all comers queered,
There at Brussels.
Like _Sir Kenneth_, only more so, he expanded his fine torso.
His Standard--bold he swore so--flying proudly,
Still supreme should flow and flaunt, its defenders none should
daunt.
'Twas a very valiant vaunt.
Shouted loudly.
Now the Silver Knight had sworn--that the Standard so long borne
By the Aureate One, in scorn irreducible
Should not solitary wave. He'd squabosh that champion brave,
Or would find a torrid grave--
In some crucible!
Such cremation he would dare if that Standard he might bear
To the dust, and upraise there one more Silvery.
For this Argent Knight, though pale, was right sure he could not
fail,
He was proud of his white mail,
And his skill--very!
So here, Gentles, you behold that brave Knight in mail of Gold,
Sworn his Standard to uphold high and aureate;
And that blusterous battle-bout, twixt those champions stern and
stout,
Will inspire, I have no doubt,
Our next Laureate!
Yank Knights-Errant may evince interest grave; that Indian Prince
Will alternate swell and wince as they struggle;
The young Scottish Knight BALFOUR (who looks callow more than dour)
Hopes the Silver Knight may score,
By some juggle.
But in spite of Yank and Scot, and the Bimetallic lot,
They who're fly to what is what, back the Gold 'un.
And did _I_ bet--for fun--ere this Standard fight is done,
I should plank my ten to one
On the Old 'Un!
* * * * *
SUN-SPOTS.
Fog, haze, smoke or cloud, almost daily enshroud
The Metropolis--place we should shun--
And day after day the reports briefly say,
"Bright sunshine at Westminster--none,"
Yes, none!
O Sol, not a ray; no, not one!
_The Times_ says that lots, quite a fine group of spots,
Are discernible now on the sun;
Have these stopped heat or light, so that weather-wise write,
"Bright sunshine at Westminster--none?"
Yes, none!
O Sol, what have you been and done?
Have these sun-spots increased? We know London, at least,
Is a spot unconnected with sun;
All day long we burn gas, the report is, alas!
"Bright sunshine at Westminster--none,"
Yes, none!
O Sol, you old son of a gun!
* * * * *
LADY GAY'S SELECTION.
_Mount Street, Berkeley Square._
DEAR MR. PUNCH,
I am proud of being the "selection" referred to above, though, as a
matter of fact it was _I_ who "selected" GAY from the numerous sweet
young things submitted for my approval during the Season when I
was considered "_the_ parti"!--but on this point I maintain a noble
silence! In spite of the old Welsh proverb, "Oh, wad some Gay the
giftie gie us," &c. &c., I was a bit puzzled on reading GAY's letters,
at the similarity of names, but thought it only a coincidence, until
she was so upset by the one she read when abroad, that she confessed
everything, and asked my advice!--It's very strange how all these
clever women, when they get into a fix, apply for assistance to weak
"_man_!" eh? Now that flat-racing is over, we are "resting on our
oars" for a time--(that is literally true, for the country has been
mostly under water lately!)--but we shall shortly have a cut-in at
steeplechasing, when GAY will doubtless have some new experiences to
relate; meanwhile, allow me to subscribe myself--(I like to subscribe
to everything good)--Yours explanatorily,
(Lord) ARTHUR FLEETWOOD.
* * * * *
ALL ROUND THE FAIR.
NO. III.
IN THE "FINE ART" EXHIBITION.
_Rustic Art Patrons discovered applying their eyes to
peepholes, through which a motley collection of coloured
lithographs of the Crimean Campaign, faded stereoscopic-views,
Scriptural engravings, and daubed woodcuts from the
"Illustrated Police News," is arranged for their inspection._
_First Art Patron_ (_waiting for his turn at the first peephole_).
Look alive theer, GE-ARGE, ain't ye done squintin' at 'un yet?
_Ge-arge_ (_a local humorist_). 'Tis a rare old novelty, BEN, th'
latest from London, and naw mistake 'bout it!
_Ben_ (_with disappointment, as he succeeds to the peephole_). Why,
'tain't on'y ADAM an' EVE afoor th' Fall! that ain't so partickler
noo, as _I_ can see--Lar dear, they're a settin' nekked on a live
lion, and a nursin' o' rabbits! (_At the next hole_ ADAM _and_ EVE
_are represented "After the Fall," overwhelmed with confusion, while
the lion is stalking off scandalised, with a fine expression of lofty
moral indignation._) 'Ere they are _agen_! that theer lion thinks he's
played sofy to 'en long 'nough, seemin'ly!
_Ge-arge_ (_from a further peephole_). I say, BEN, 'ere's Mrs. PEARCEY
a murderin' Mrs. 'OGG down this 'un--we're a-gittin' _along_!
_Ben_ (_puzzled_). They must ha' skipped out a deal. I'm on'y at "CAIN
killin' ABEL!"
_Female Patron_ (_to Proprietor_). 'Ere, Master, I can't see nothen'
down 'ere--'tis all dark like!
_Proprietor._ Let _me_ 'ave a look! You shud put your 'ands so, each
side o' your eyes, and--(_He looks._) 'Um, it is _rayther_--but
what else do yer _expeck_? It's a "View o' Paris by Night," ain't
it--_that_'s all right!
OUTSIDE "PROFESSOR PUGMAN'S SPARRING SALOON."
_The Professor_ (_on a little platform, with a pair of Pupils_).
Now then, all you as are lovers o' the Noble and Manly Art o'
Self-Defence, step inside and see it illusterated in a scientific an'
fust-class manner! This (_introducing first Pupil, who rubs his nose
with dignity_) is 'OPPER of 'Olloway, the becoming nine-stun Champion.
This hother's BATTERS o' Bermondsey, open to fight any lad in England
at eight-stun four. Is there anyone among you willing to 'ave a round
or two with either on 'em fur a drink an' admission free?--if so,
now's his time to step forward--there's no waiting, mind yer?
_Joe_ (_to Melia_). I b'lieve as 'ow I could tackle the little 'un--I
used to box above a bit.
_Melia._ Don't ye now, JOE; you'll on'y go and git yourself 'urt or
summat!
_Joe._ _I_ shan't git 'urt. 'Ere, Master, I'm game fur to put on the
gloves wi' _'im_.
_Prof._ Git inside with yer then! (_To Crowd._) Now then for the Great
Glove Contest--Just goin' inside to begin--Mind, there's _no_ waitin'!
_Joe._ 'Ere, MELIA, come along in, and look arter my 'at an' coat.
_Melia._ I dussen't, JOE! I can't abear to see no fightin', I'll bide
'ere till ye come out.
[_JOE enters the tent, followed by the Pupils and a few
Connoisseurs._
_Prof._ (_looking into the interior of tent through a slit in the
canvas_). Theer they are! Oh my, what a pictur'! They're puttin' on
the gloves now, make 'aste if you're goin' in! (_The Crowd hesitate._)
'Ere! (_To the Champions._) Step outside once more and show
yourselves!
[_The Champions appear, re-mount the platform, and are
introduced all over again._
_Melia_ (_intercepting her swain_). JOE, 'ow are ye gittin' on? You
don't look none the worse so fur; is it neelly over?
_Joe_ (_gruffly_). Neelly over! why, we ain't _begun_ yet--nor likely
to wi' all this bloomin' palaverin'!
_Melia._ I do wish 'twas over--Kip a good 'art, JOE; don't let 'un go
knockin' ye about!
_Joe_ (_with a slight decrease of confidence_). Theer's a way to talk!
I doan't reckon as 'ow he'll _kill_ me, not in three rounds, I doan't,
but if I'd a-know'd there'd be all this messin' about fust, I'd a--
[_He goes inside gloomily._
[Illustration: "Theer they are! Oh my, what a pictur'!"]
INSIDE THE SPARRING SALOON.
_The Spectators are waiting patiently around the ropes; the
Professor is still on the platform, expatiating on the coming
contest. JOE has found a friend whom he has entrusted with
his hat and coat._
_Joe_ (_to the Friend_). Jest kip a heye on these 'ere, will ye!
[_He hands him a huge pair of highlows._
_Prof._ (_calling in_). Fur the larst time, come outside and show
yerselves, all on yer!
_The Friend._ You got to go out agin, JOE, better putt on yer coat an'
'at, not to ketch cold!
_Joe._ Ah, and I'll 'ave to 'ave they bo-oots on agen, too. (_He gets
into his things in a great flurry, and hastens outside._) 'Tis enough
to take th' 'art out of a man, thet 'tis!
[_More exhortations from Proprietor, until the last Spectator
has been induced to enter the Saloon, whereupon the Champions
return, and the hangings at the entrance are finally drawn._
_Prof._ (_acting as Timekeeper_). Now then, all ready? (_To JOE._)
In you go--What are yer waitin' for? Never mind about takin' orf
yer boots! Gentlemen, BATTERS o' Bermondsey is agoin' to fight three
rounds with a volunteer, one o' your own men. Whatever you see between
'em (_solemnly_), pass no remarks! Time!
[_JOE and "BATTERS o' Bermondsey" walk round each other
and make a fumbling attempt to shake hands, after which JOE,
while preparing to deliver a blow with extreme caution and
deliberation, is surprised by a smart smack on his cheek,
which makes him stagger; he recovers himself and prances down
on BATTERS with a windmill action._
_Batters_ (_limping into his corner_). 'Ere, I say, ole man--moind my
tows--foight at yer right _end_!
_Joe_ (_apologetically_). I didn't mean nothing unfair-like--I
_warnted_ fur to take off them 'ere boots--but I warn't let!
_Batters._ I'll _let_ ye--fur 'taint no corpet slippers as you've got
on, ole feller, I tell yer strite!
[_JOE removes the offending boots._
_Spectators_ (_during the second round, which is fought with more
spirit than science on JOE'S part_). Ah, JOE ain't no match for
'un--he let un _'ave_ it then, didn't he? My word! but it's "Go 'ome
an' tell yer Mother, an' ax yer Uncle 'ow ye be" with 'un, pretty near
every time!
_Prof._ (_with affected rapture_). Oh dear! Oh lor! _What_ doins!
Time! you two, afore ye _kill_ one another! Now, Gentlemen, a good
clap, to encourage 'em. I think you'll agree as the Volunteer is
showin' you good sport; and, if you think him deservin' of a drink,
p'raps one o' you will oblige with the loan of a 'at, which he'll now
take round. (_The hat is procured, and offered to_ JOE, _who, however,
prefers that the collection should be made by deputy._) Don't _forgit_
'im, Gentlemen! (_Coppers pour into the hat, and the last round is
fought;_ B. of B. _ducking_ JOE'S _blows with great agility, and
planting his own freely in various parts of_ JOE'S _anatomy._)
_Spectators._ 'E'll be knocked out in a minnit, 'e will! Don't sim to
git near 'un no 'ow. Look a' _that_--and _thar_ agin! Ah, JOE got
one in that time--but the tother's the better man--'e don't touch 'un
without _'ittin'_ of 'un--d'ye see? Time! Ah, and time it _was_ time,
too--fur _'im_!
_Prof._ (_to JOE, as he sits blinking, and blowing his nose with
vigour_). That was a jolly good fight--tho' rough. You've some notion
o' sparrin'--we'd soon make a boxer o' _you_. 'Ere's _your_ share of
the collection--sevenpence ap'ny. We give _you_ the extry ap'ny, bein'
a stranger. Would you feel inclined to fight six rounds, later on
like, with another of our lads, fur ten bob, now?
_Joe_ (_making a futile attempt to untie his glove with his teeth_).
Much obliged, Master, but I've 'ad about enough spree a'ready to do me
fur a bit.
_Prof._ Are there any two friends in 'ere as 'ud like to fight a round
or two?
[_Two Rustics step forward valiantly--a tall dark man and a
little red-haired one--and, after the usual preliminaries,
square up at a safe distance._
_Spectators_ (_to the tall man_). Why don't ye step _up_ to 'un, JIM?
Use yer right 'and a bit! (_To the short one._) Let out on 'un, TOM!
[_TOM, thus exhorted, lands an unexpected blow on JIM'S eye._
_Jim_ (_suddenly ducking under the rope in great dudgeon_). 'Twas a
cowardly blow! I didn' stan' up to be 'it in th' fa-ace i' that way;
I've 'ad enoof of it!
_Tom._ Come back and fight it out! (_Soothingly._) Why, ye come at me
like a thunderin' great _lion_, ye did!
_Jim_ (_putting on his hat and coat, sulkily_). Loi-on or noan,
I ain't gawin' to hev naw moor on it, I tell 'ee. [_Groans from_
Spectators.
_Prof._ Don't be 'ard on 'im, Gents; it ain't 'is fault if he's on'y
bin used to box with bolsters, and as he ain't goin' to finish 'is
rounds, it's all over for this time, and I 'ope you're all satisfied
with what you've seen.
_A Malcontent._ _I_ ain't. I carl it a bloomin' swindle. I come 'ere
to see some _sparrin'_, _I_ did!
_Prof._ Step inside the ropes then, and _I'll_ soon show yer some!
(_This invitation is hastily declined._) Well, then, go outside quiet,
d'jear me? or else you'll do it upside down, like ole JOHN BROWN, in
'arf a sec., I can tell yer!
[_The Malcontent departs meekly, and reserves any further
observations until he is out of hearing._
_Melia_ (_to JOE_). Lor, I wish now I'd been there to see ye; I do
'ope ye weren't too _rough_ with 'un, though, JOE. What shall we do
next?--'ave a turn on the swings, or the swishback circus, or the
giddy-go-round--or what? (JOE _shakes his head._) _Why_ won't ye, JOE?
_Joe_ (_driven to candour_). Why?--'cause it 'ud be throwin' away
money, seein' I've got 'em all goin' on inside o' me at once as 'tis,
if ye _want_ to know! I feel a deal more like settin' down quiet a
bit, I do, if I cud find a place.
_Melia_ (_with an inspiration_). Then let's go and 'ave our likenesses
took!
[_She cannot understand why JOE should be so needlessly
incensed at so innocent and opportune a suggestion._
* * * * *
THE "BEST EVIDENCE"--HOW NOT TO GET IT.
Have been summoned to attend as a Witness in the trial of the six
roughs who first drugged and then savagely ill-treated a foolishly
convivial citizen in Whitechapel. Don't know if it was wise of me
to tell the Police that I could identify the men. Since my evidence
before the Magistrate came out, I have had thirty-seven threatening
letters, my front windows have been broken several times over, and a
valuable dog poisoned. Still, evidently a patriotic duty to "assist
the course of Justice;" and no doubt I shall be compensated.
So this is the "Central Criminal Court," is it? Should hardly have
believed it possible. Outside mean and dirty.
Interior, meaner and much dirtier. Speak to Usher. Usher most
polite. Glad, that at any rate, they _do_ know how to treat important
Witnesses. Am assured I shall have a seat "close to the Judge."
Produce my witness-summons. Demeanour of Usher suddenly changes. I
shall have to go to the "Witnesses' Waiting-room in the old Court."
Where's that? _He_ doesn't know. I'd better ask a Policeman. It now
flashes across me that Usher mistook me for a wealthy, and probably
generous spectator, and thought when I was fumbling in my pocket for
my summons, I was looking for half-a-crown for _him_! Depressing.
Policeman leaves me in a dark, draughty passage, with a bench on each
side. "But where is the waiting-room?" I ask an attendant. "_This_ is
the waiting-room," he replies. More like the Black Hole. _Was_ it wise
of me to give information to the Police?
_Two Days later._--They crammed _forty_ Witnesses into that passage!
No seats for half of them. We had one chair, and Usher took it away
"as a lady wanted it in Court." Lady no doubt a spectator--did _she_
hunt in her pocket for half-a-crown? Anyhow, after two days in the
passage, I have just given my evidence in Court, with fearful cold
on my lungs, owing to the draught. Very hoarse. Ordered by Judge,
sternly, to "speak up." Conscious that I looked a wretched object.
Jury regarded me with evident suspicion. Severely cross-examined.
Mentioned to Judge about my windows being smashed, &c.; could I
receive anything for it? "Oh, dear no," replied the Judge; "we never
reward Witnesses." Amusement in Court--at my expense. In fact, the
course of Justice generally seems to be altogether at my expense.
Home in a cab and a fever. Find ten more threatening letters, and an
infernal machine under area-steps. Go to bed. Doctor says I am in
for pneumonia and bronchitis, he thinks. Tells me I am thoroughly
run down, and asks me, "What I've been doing to reduce myself to this
state?" I reply that, "I have been assisting the course of Justice."
Doctor shrugs his shoulders, and I hear him distinctly mutter, "More
fool you!" I agree with Doctor, cordially. Am quite certain now that
it _was_ unwise to tell Police that I could identify those criminals.
If this is the way in which Witnesses are treated, let Justice in
future assist itself!