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  PUNCH,

  OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

  VOLUME 98.

  MAY 17, 1890.

       *       *       *       *       *

ALL IN PLAY.

MY DEAR EDITOR,--Whilst you were feasting in Burlington House amongst
the Pictures and the Royal Academicians, I was seated in the Stalls of
the St. James's Theatre, lost in astonishment (certainly not in
admiration, although of old the two words had the same meaning), at the
antics of a minority of the Gallery, who amused themselves by shouting
themselves hoarse before the performances commenced; but not satisfied
with this, they continued their shrieking further: they howled at the
overture of the first piece, they jeered at the scene, they yelled at
the actors. However, as it happened, _The Tiger_ had been already
successfully played on two occasions last year, so a verdict was not
required at _their_ hands. Had Mr. SOLOMON, the composer, conducted, he
would have taken _The Tiger_ away, and left the howlers to their
howling. Since Saturday the piece has, I am informed, "gone" with what
the Americans call a "snap." The music is charming. Mr. CHARLES COLNAGHI
made his bow as a professional, and played and sang excellently, as did
also Mr. J. G. TAYLOR, in spite of the riotous conduct of the
"unfriendlies."

Then came _Esther Sandraz_. Mrs. LANGTRY looked lovely, and played with
great power; but what an unpleasant part! Until the end of the First Act
all was right. The sympathy was with the heroine of the hour, or,
rather, two hours and a half; but when it was discovered that _Esther_
loved but for revenge, and wished to bring sorrow and shame upon the
fair head of Miss MARION LEA, then the sentiments of the audience
underwent a rapid change. Everyone would have been pleased if Mr. SUGDEN
had shot himself in Act II.; nay, some of us would not have complained
if he had died in Act I., but the cat-and-mouse-like torture inflicted
upon him by _Esther_ was the reverse of agreeable. Mr. SUGDEN was only a
"Johnnie", but still "Johnnies" have feelings like the rest of us. Mr.
BOURCHIER was rather hard as a good young man who does _not_ die, and
Mr. EVERILL (steady old stager) kept everything well together. If the
play keeps the boards for any length of time, it will be, thanks to the
power of Mrs. LANGTRY, the natural pathos of Miss MARION LEA, and the
unforced comedy of Mr. EVERILL.

On Monday Miss GRACE HAWTHORNE produced _Theodora_ at the Princess's
Theatre with some success. It cannot be said, however, that Mlle. SARA
BERNHARDT has at length found her rival, but, for all that, the heroine
of the moment might have been worse. "SARDOU'S masterpiece" (as the
programmes have it) was very well staged. The scenery and costumes were
excellent, and great relief was afforded to the more tragic tones of the
play by entrusting the heavy part of _Andreas_ to Mr. LEONARD BOYNE, who
is a thorough artist, with just the least taste in life of the brogue
that savours more of the Milesian Drama. Mr. W. H. VERNON was the
_Justinian_ of the evening, and looked the Lawgiver to the life;
although I am not quite sure whether a half-concealed moustache was
quite the fashion in the days of the Empire. Mr. ROBERT BUCHANAN, the
adapter of "the masterpiece", introduced several nineteenth century
expressions into the dialogue. In the "home of the Gladiators", it was
quite pleasant to hear people talking of a "row", and made one wish to
have a description of "a merry little mill", in the language of the
sporting Press. No doubt, the length of the performances was the reason
why so racy a narrative was omitted. For the rest, there are some thirty
speaking parts--a good allowance for a play consisting of six Acts and
seven _Tableaux_. A "Masterpiece" (in English) is better than a feast,
for it is enough--for a lifetime. Believe me, yours faithfully,

ONE WHO HAS TAKEN A DOUBLE "FIRST."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A CHANGE.

From a Fasting Man to a Sandwich Man. Useful to Advertisers.]

       *       *       *       *       *

A STIRRING POLE.--A more stirring pianist than PADEREWSKI, who played on
Friday afternoon at St. James's Hall for the first time in England, has
never been heard. The report that he is a Polonised Irishman needs
confirmation. The name is suspicious. But there are no sound reasons for
supposing that the first two syllables of PADEREWSKI'S name are simply a
corruption of the Hibernian "Paddy."

       *       *       *       *       *

CLASSIC MOTTO FOR THOSE WHO SELL AS THE GENUINE ARTICLE TEA UNDER A
FALSE BRAND.--"_Nomine mutato fabula narratur de Tea._"

       *       *       *       *       *

MRS. R. wants to know if she can ascertain all about the Law of Libel,
&c., in the works which she contemplates purchasing of WALTER SAVAGE
SLANDOR.

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR ADVERTISERS.

_A New Departure, or the "Give-'em-a-hand-all-round" Wrinkle._

ROYAL QUARTPOTARIUM.--THE RENOWNED WORLD FASTING CHAMPION, who is
dressed in a READY-MADE SUIT OF TWEED DITTOS (38_s._) supplied by
Messrs. LEVI, SOLOMANS & CO., of 293, Houndsditch, and is

       * * *

SEATED ON THE GENT'S EASY LOUNGE CHAIR, forming one of the articles of
the highly-upholstered dining-room set (as advertised) by Messrs.
GLUBBINS, KNICKERBOCKER & CO., of Tottenham Court Road, where at any
hour he can be seen

       * * *

SIPPING ALTERNATELY FROM TWO LARGE CUT-GLASS TUMBLERS, furnished by
Messrs. WAGBITTER AND GROANS, of New Oxford Street,

       * * *

BLINKER'S CONCENTRATED COD-LIVER EMULSION MELTED FATS (57_s._ the dozen
pints, bottles included), and

       * * *

SPARKLING SINGULARIS WATER, bottled in nine-gallon flagons by the
Company at their extensive works in the Isle of Dogs, with which, to the
satisfaction of his friends, he succeeds in washing down, in turns,
hourly,

       * * *

BINNACLE'S CONDENSED DIGESTIVE BOILED PORK LOZENGES, supplied by all
respectable Chemists throughout the United Kingdom, in 1_s._ 9_d._,
3_s._ 9_d._, 13_s._ 3_d._, 27_s._ 6_d._, and 105_s._ Boxes;

       * * *

SIDES, BREASTS, FORE-QUARTERS, SADDLES, AND ENTIRE WHOLE OR HALF-SHEEP
OF PRIME BOLIVIAN MUTTON delivered daily by the Company's carts, from
their own Refrigerators;

       * * *

WINKER'S INVALID INFANT'S PICK-ME-UP CORDIAL--(WINKER & CO., the
Manufactory, Hoxton-on-Sea);

       * * *

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off the joint, two _entrees_, sweet, cheese, and celery, as testified to
by a public analyst of standing and repute. Agents, GLUM & CO, Seven
Dials.

       * * *

THE FASTING CHAMPION continues to receive visitors as above from 6 A.M.
to 11 P.M. daily, and may be inspected, watched, stared at, pinched,
questioned, and examined generally, by his admiring friends, the British
Public, in his private _sanctum_ at the Royal Quartpotarium, till
further notice.

       *       *       *       *       *

IN THE KNOW.--(By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.)

CARDINAL RICHELIEU once observed to Madame DE ST. GALMIER, that if Kings
could but know the folly of their subjects they would hesitate at
nothing. Mr. JEREMY evidently knows thoroughly how stupendously
cabbage-headed his readers are, for he never hesitates to put forward
the most astounding and muddy-minded theories. For instance, he asks us
this week to believe that _Saladin_ ought to have won the Shropshire
Handicap, because he was known to be a better horse, from two miles up
to fifty, than the four other horses who faced the starter. If this
stuff had been addressed to an audience of moon-calves and mock-turtles
it might have passed muster, but, thank Heaven, we are not _all_ quite
so low as that yet. Let me therefore tell Mr. JEREMY, that when a horse
like _Saladin_, whose back-bone is like the Himalaya mountains, and his
pastern joints like a bottle-nosed whale with a cold in his head, comes
to the post with two stone and a beating to his credit, and four hoofs
about the size of a soup-tureen to his legs, he can never be _expected_
to get the better of slow roarers like _Carmichael_ and _Busby_, to say
nothing of _Whatnot_ and _Pumblechook_. It is well known, of course,
that the latter has been in hard training for a month, and a better
horse at cornbin or bran-mash never stepped. _Saladin_ won, I know, but
it was for reasons very different from those given by Mr. JEREMY.

There is nothing new about the Derby horses. I believe they are mostly
in training, but I reserve my opinion until I see what the addle-pates
who own them mean to do.

       *       *       *       *       *

"A SELF-MADE MAN", said Mrs. R., thoughtfully, "is the artichoke of his
own fortunes."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE MODERN HERCULES AND THE PYGMIES.

(_Extracts from the Diary of an Explorer in the Society Islands._)]

From the bears, apes, and foxes with which the thickets of the great
forest of Societas abounded, it is but a step to the Pygmy tribes whom
we found inhabiting the tract of country between the Uperten and the
Suburban rivers. The Pygmies are as old as Swelldom, as ubiquitous as
Boredom, the two secular pests of the earth. You will remember that
Hercules once fell asleep in the deserts of Africa, after his conquest
of Antaeus, and was disturbed in his well-earned rest by an attack of a
large army of these troublesome Lilliputians, who, it is recorded,
"discharged their arrows with great fury upon his arms and legs." The
hero, it is added, "pleased with their courage, wrapped a great number
of them in the skin of the Nemean lion, and carried them to Eurystheus."

I was not "pleased with their courage", but plagued with their
importunities. HERODOTUS described the capture of five young explorers
from Naasamoves while they were examining some curious trees in the
Niger basin, and tells how the little men took them to their villages
and showed them about to their fellow Pygmies. So, in a sense, the
Pygmies of Societas "captured" me, and showed me about to their fellow
denizens of this Land of Lilliput. They "discharged their arrows" (which
they called "In-Vites", and each of which was branded with the mystic
letters, R.S.V.P.) at me in swarms, and though they rather tickled than
hurt, yet after a time their minute but multiplied prickings became no
end of a nuisance.

Let us pause a little, and pay such honour as is due for persistence and
importunity to these "little people", who have outlived the wise men of
Egypt, the prophets of Palestine, the magicians of Persia, and the sages
of Greece and Rome. They have actually been able to hold their own from
the days of HOMER, through those of HORACE, down even to those of
HAGGARD. I have seen the wear and tear of the Pyramids of Egypt (which
is nothing to that of a lionised hero in Societas); I can certify that
the Sphynx presents a very battered appearance indeed (though not so
battered as mine, after the "little people" had done with me), but the
Pygmies of to-day in Societas appear to be as plentiful and as perky as
those that thousands of years ago swarmed in AEthiopia, built their
houses with egg-shells, made war upon the Cranes, and attacked the tired
hero Hercules.

You will understand that I, who have always professed to love humanity,
even in the form of mannikins, better than beetles and butterflies, was
as much interested in these small creatures as was Hercules in the
skinful of <DW40>s he carried to the exacting Eurystheus. As I looked at
them, and thought how these represented the oldest race on the
globe--namely, the Inquisitive Quidnuncs--my admiration really went to
greater lengths than scoffing cynics might have expected.

These Pygmies of Societas, though small, are cunning, and wise in their
generation. For the most part they toil not, (save at pleasure-seeking
and lion-hunting), neither do they spin (anything beyond the edifying
yarns they call "after-dinner stories"). But they manage to live on the
fat of the land. The larger aborigines (called the Whirkirs) are very
industrious, and form the clearings and cultivate the various produce of
the place. The Pygmies appear to be aware that the plantations and
powers of the Whirkirs are practically inexhaustible, and to think that
they have as much right to the produce as the aboriginal owners and
tillers. Therefore, they cling tightly to these plantations, and make
the larger and more laborious natives pay dearly for the honour of their
acquaintance. In another manner they perform valuable service by setting
fashions, receiving strangers, and assisting in the defence of the
settlements; they also hunt game, and supply the larger natives with
plenty to do in working for and waiting on them. It appeared to me that
the Pygmies were regarded somewhat as parasites (though highly
ornamental ones, like orchids) whose departure would be more welcome--to
the aborigines--than their vicinity. But a race which has survived so
much and so many things is not easily to be got rid of.

Anyhow, _I_ couldn't get rid of them, though sometimes I felt
inclined to imitate Hercules. With their arrows and their unblushing
importunities they had me at advantage, and even as _Gulliver_ became
the victim of the <DW40>s of Lilliput, so did I of the innumerable,
inquisitive, imperturbably impertinent Pygmies of Societas.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE FIRST FIGHT.

(_Between the Seventh Team of Australian Cricketers and an English
Eleven, begun at Sheffield Park, on May 8, 1890._)

  A HAZE hung over the Surrey Downs
  In the early morning; but Nature's frowns
  Broke up in smiles as the day advanced.
  And the grey mist cleared and the sunbeams glanced
  On MURDOCH bold, and his merry men.
  When hundreds of optics, and many a pen
  Were on the alert, at Sheffield Park,
  The valiant deeds (between wickets) to mark
  Of the Seventh Australian Cricketing lot.
  MURDOCH and LYONS, BARRETT and TROTT,
  Lads of their inches in flesh and bones;
  TURNER and WALTERS, BLACKHAM and JONES,
  GREGORY, CHARLTON and FERRIS too;
  A sterling Eleven, second to few.
  Whilst "odd men" TRUMBLE and BURN and BOYLE
  "Stood out" of the first big match's toil,
  'Gainst GRACE and STODDART, NEWHAM and READ,
  SHERWIN and SHREWSBURY, stout at need,
  LOHMANN and HUMPHREYS, and BRIGGS and PEEL,
  And ATTEWELL with the nerves of steel.
  No need to tell how they met and fought,
  And bowled, and batted, and stumped, and caught;
  But _Mr. Punch_, who has seen all six
  Of the other Elevens before the "sticks",
  And cheered them victors, or vanquished cheered,
  Shoots forth his fist, as the lists are cleared,
  To welcome back to an English wicket
  These champions fresh of Colonial Cricket.
  He will not "butter" you, boys, for _that_ you'll hate.
  Only he must most sincerely congratulate
  His old friend MURDOCH on starting so well.
  Go it, Sir, keep it up, W. L.!
  Here's wishing the