Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, December 10, 1887

Name: Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, December 10, 1887
Author: Various

by Various

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Language: en206 downloads on Project Gutenberg

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English wit and humor -- Periodicals

In: Punch·Humour·British Literature

Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #39437.

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J-HN BR-GHT Is always right.

He told me in confidence that he had at one time contemplated a eulogistic poem of some seventy or eighty lines, price to the Nineteenth Century a guinea each. But, having thrown off this couplet, it appeared in itself so sufficient, so comprehensive yet so precise, that amplification would have rather reduced than increased its value. Therefore it remains a brilliant fragment.

But I am wandering from the theme, which, in the present instance, is not myself but my country address. What I thought might be interesting to point out is the curious felicity of the nomenclature, and the remarkable foresight of which it is proof. More than a generation ago it received this singular appellation. At that time nothing seemed more remote from ordinary apprehension than that in this year I should be what we call "a Unionist," an ally and supporter of Lord S-L-B-RY, pulling in the same boat as the H-M-LT-NS, and marching shoulder to shoulder with ASHM-D B-RTL-TT. In those days I was wont to pour forth torrents of angry contempt upon the Conservative party. D-SR-LI was my wash-pot, over the Markiss I cast out my shoe; but even then my address was One Ash, Rochdale. Do you begin to see what I mean? One Empire, One Parliament, One Ash! Some of my old colleagues and disciples among the Radicals scoff at me because of my new companions. But, as usual, I have been right from the first. I have always been what the Marchioness called a "wonner." What has happened is that the Liberal Party and my old companions have moved away from me, whilst the Conservatives have moved towards me. I am the same to-day as yesterday, or as these fifty years past. "J-HN BR-GHT, always right," and any change of relationship or appearance is due to the ineradicable error and fatal foolishness of others.

What I feel, dear TOBY, in reviewing a long and honourable life, is the terrible feeling of monotony. I sometimes find myself envying ordinary men like GL-DST-NE, who, looking back over their past life, can put their hand down and say, "There I blundered, there I was misled by circumstances." For a long time GL-DST-NE kept pretty straight--that is to say I agreed with him. But he has gone wrong lamentably on this Irish Question, and all the righteous acts of his life--that is to say, steps in which he has chanced to walk in time with me--are obliterated. It is true that, at one time, it was I who was the foremost Apostle of Irish National feeling. At this date people with inconvenient memories are constantly raking up passages in my speeches about Ireland, and the English yoke which, except that they are too finely cut, and of too noble a style of eloquence, would exactly suit GL-DST-NE to-day. I said these things then, it is true, and then they were right. I do not say them to-day, and therefore they are wrong. Quod erat demonstrandum. (You will observe that since, with a distinguished friend, I have joined the political company of gentlemen, I have forsaken my old habit of keeping to the Saxon tongue, and sometimes, as here, I drop into Latin. Occasionally I fall into French. Autres temps, autres moeurs.)

My nearest approach to human frailty, is, perhaps, to be found in a certain measure of absence of suavity. It is perhaps possible that my temper was,--I will not say soured, but--not sweetened by the vile attacks made upon me personally by Irish Members in Parliament during the last ten years. You remember what B-NT-NCK said about me? I don't mean Big Ben, or Little Ben, but Lord GEORGE B-NT-NCK. "If BR-GHT," he said, "had not been a Quaker, he would have been a prize-fighter." I think there is about the remark some suspicion of lack of respect. But, also, it is not without some foundation of truth. I admit an impulse to strike back when I am hit; sometimes when I am not. Through two Parliaments the ragged regiment that live upon the contributions of their poor relations in domestic service in the United States have girded at me in the House of Commons. This was my reward for the rhetorical services I did for Ireland a quarter of a century ago. They pummelled me, kicked me, dragged my honoured name in the dust, and spat upon me in the market-place. That gross ingratitude I could never forgive, and if in reprisal, the cause I once advocated suffers, can I be held blameable?

But this seems to be running into the groove of apology, and I never apologised to anyone for anything in my life. For fear I should begin now, I will close this letter, remaining, Your friend, J-HN BR-GHT.

P.S.--I observe that in my haste I have not called you a fool, or directly stigmatised as such anyone alluded to in this letter. I am afraid this will be regarded as a sign of growing weakness. But I will bring up the average in the next letter I write for publication.

He. "ON THE CONTRARY, MADAM! THAT IS A CHINESE CUSTOM. WE IN JAPAN ALWAYS ALLOW THE LADIES' FEET TO GROW TO QUITE THEIR FULL SIZE. NOT THAT ANY WOULD EVER RIVAL YOURS, MADAM!"

[_Is delighted with his neat little Compliment!_]

See Christmas is upon us and the world around us living, Seeks us and asks the pretty gifts it soon would fain be giving. The stories thrilling, tender, sweet, to suit all tastes and ages, All gleaming with their covers gay and picture-covered pages; The dainty illustrated leaf, the paper softly tinted, In type, to suit young eyes and old, all exquisitely printed: Of artist's pencil, author's pen, the choicest, fairest flower, Behold as the glad season comes we thus upon you shower.

MESSRS. BLACKIE & SONS.

Christmas leaves? Would you pick up the handsomest ones, First look at these scattered by BLACKIE & SONS. Here tales of home life and adventure in plenty, Have good names to vouch for them. Take G. A. HENTY, In "Bonnie Prince Charlie" and "Orange and Green," He lays first in Scotland, then Ireland his scene, And thrills you with reading the hairbreadth escapes, Of the heroes he rescues from numberless scrapes. But while in "For the Temple," he ventures to tell How in ages long past great Jerusalem fell; Yet if less ancient horrors are more to your mind, In the reign of the "Terror" material you'll find; And if you would learn how pluck never goes wrong, You've but to go straightway to "Sturdy and Strong." Next ELIZABETH LYSAGHT in "Aunt Hesba's Charge," On the virtues of old Maiden Aunts doth enlarge, And relates in "Our General" by a small head, How a family through all its trials may be led. Then J. PERCY GROVES in "The War of the Axe," Tells a stirring Cape story of Caffre attacks, And "The Seven Wise Scholars" supply ASCOTT R. HOPE, For knocking off seven good tales, ample scope, He in "Old Renown" stories, too, brilliantly writes Of the deeds done of old by brave heroes and knights; While E. BROOKES harking back with his "Chivalric Days," Of the boys and the girls of old times sings the praise. "Girl Neighbours," allows SARAH TYTLER to say, On the whole she prefers the girl of the day; In "Miss Willowbrown's Offer," how traitors may fail, SARAH DOWDNEY describes in a well-written tale. With "The Babbling Teapot," to a little girl changed, Mrs. CHAMPNEY has well into Wonderland ranged. Out of "Willie," who here "Gutta Percha" is named, GEORGE MACDONALD, an excellent story has framed, And has shown how he finds life's troubles prove plastic, Possessing a brain which his friends deem elastic. In "The Princess" and "Goblin" he tries a new scheme, And sweeps you along with his mystical theme; But when she meets "Curdie" he now and then treads On ground that is over his young readers' heads. If a truant's adventures, fair reading you find, The good ship "Atalanta," you'd bear in your mind, And you'll follow "aboard" it, the hero whose fate HENRY FRITH'S thrilling pages know how to relate. Next in "Chirp and Chatter" from field and from tree, Young children taught lessons by L. BANKS you'll see. "Queen Maud," with her "orders" by LOUISA CROW, Shows pride in a haughty young maiden brought low: While in the "Squire's Grandson," J. CALLWELL proves how A small boy can make up a family row. The stories of WASA and MENZIKOFF tell Two historical tales, and do it right well. In his "Dick o' the Fens," one Fen,--MANVILLE FENN,-- Gives some capital studies of Lincolnshire men; But in "Sir Walter's Ward," the age of Crusades, Mr. WILLIAM EVERARD brightly invades. The "Girlhood" of "Margery Merton" relates, The struggle that oft a young artist awaits, And how in the end her brave efforts prevail, ALICE CORKRAN unfolds in her well-written tale. And if "Clogs," well selected for children to wear, You're in need, AMY WALTON will find you "a pair." If the "Secret" of "Rovers" is more to your taste, HARRY COLLINGWOOD follow,--your time you'll not waste. In field, forest, or stream, would you "Insect Ways" learn, For their "Summer Day's" life to J. HUMPHREYS turn. But to close:--GORDON BROWNE, whose famed pencil so skilled, Of the foregoing pages so many has filled, Crowns the whole by contributing last, but not least, His new "Hop o' my Thumb" and "The Beauty and Beast."

GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS.

Are you seeking for young children picture-books to please the eye? Then your need GEORGE ROUTLEDGE and his Sons will readily supply. Here's "Little Wide-Awake," designed to suit the earliest age, Bound brightly, with a picture too on nearly every page; And then there's "Sunny Childhood," with its colouring so gay, Where Mrs. SALE BARKER has such pleasant things to say; And in "Our Friends" and in "Our Home" she takes them by the hand, And talks to little readers in the words they understand. "Our Darlings," too, by MARS, show how our little darlings fare Who by their MARS (and Pa's as well) are taken everywhere. If "Fairy Tales" you're seeking, LABOULAYE'S collected lore, With new ones, and unheard before, will furnish up your store. And if young heroes of all climes should come within your scope, You'll turn to "Youngsters' Yarns," and will have faith in ASCOTT HOPE. Then "Herbert Massey's" doings in "Eastern Africa" you'll find, Told by Commander CAMERON, quite of a thrilling kind. "The Children of the New Forest," that MARRYAT wrote of yore, PAUL HARDY and JOHN GILBERT join to illustrate once more. "Round Nature's Dial," by H. M. BURNSIDE, tells full and clear The shifting story of the times and seasons of the year. The "Annual" for "Every Boy" affords all boys a treat, Which, thanks to EDMUND ROUTLEDGE, may be held as quite complete. Here "Caldecott's last 'Graphic' Pictures" come in handy guise, While by her "Book" consulting, the "Young Lady" may grow wise. How good we'd be if all, before they do, to think would tarry On what Miss EDGEWORTH taught to "Lucy," "Rosamond," and "Harry." "Natural History," Illustrated "for Young People," must do good, As a text-book for young children, ably done by F. G. WOOD. The "Funny Foxes and their Feats" and doings "at the Fair," With some of ERNST GRISET'S happiest efforts may compare. "The 'Shall Nots' of the Bible" and "Loving Links" combine, In page illuminated, human verse and text divine. "Play and Earnest" tells of children who their playing much enjoy, In a story quaint and charming of a plucky little boy. Then "Sunbeam Stories," "Storm" and "Sunshine," told in prose and rhyme, And "Stories" for a "Holiday," as also "Pets' Pastime." These, with "Sindbad's" famed Adventures, new to many we suppose, With KATE GREENAWAY'S bright Almanack our list must fitly close.

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