قراءة كتاب Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, January 30, 1892
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, January 30, 1892
While HAGGARD scrawls, with blood in lieu of ink,
While MALLOCK teaches Marquises to think,
so long I have rhythmically expressed my design to wield the dripping scourge of satire. But nobody seems a penny the worse, and I am not a paragraph the better. Short stories of a startling description fill my drawers, nobody will venture on one of them. I have closely imitated every writer who succeeds, but my little barque may attendant sail, it pursues the triumph, but does not partake the gale.
I am now engaged on a Libretto for an heroic opera.
What offers?
THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX.
Chorus (Everybody). "EVERYTHING IN ORDER EVERYWHERE! O! WHAT A SURPRISE! SOLD AGAIN!"
THE IMPERIAL JACK-IN-THE-BOX.
A SONG FOR THE SHOUTING EMPEROR.
AIR—"The Major-General."
I am the very pattern of a Modern German Emperor,
Omniscient and omnipotent, I ne'er give way to temper, or
If now and then I run a-muck in a Malay-like fashion,
As there's method in my madness, so there's purpose in my passion.
'Tis my aim to manage everything in order categorical—
My fame as Cosmos-maker I intend shall be historical.
I know they call me Paul Pry, say I'm fussy and pragmatical—
But that's because sheer moonshine always hates the mathematical.
I'm not content to "play the King" with an imperial pose in it—
Whatever is marked "Private" I shall up and poke my nose in it.
He won't let drowsing dogs lie, he'll stir up the tabby sleeping Tom—
In fact, he is the model of a modern German Peeping Tom!
I bounce into the Ball-Room when they think I'm fast asleep at home,
And measure steps and skirts and things and mark what state folks keep at home;
Watch the toilette of young Beauty on the very strictest Q.T. too,
Evangelise the Army and keep sentries to their duty, too,
On the Navy, and the Clergy, and the Schools, my wise eyes shoot lights, Sir.
I'm awfully particular to regulate the footlights, Sir.
I preach sermons to my soldiers and arrange their "duds" and duels, too,
And tallow their poor noses, when they've colds, and mix their gruels, too;
I'll make everybody moral, and obedient, and frugal, Sir—
In fact I'm an Imperial edition of MCDOUGALL, Sir!
He'd compel us to drink water and restrain us when to wed agog;
In fact he is the model of a Modern German pedagogue.
I've all the god-like attributes, omniscient, ubiquitous,
I mean to squelch free impulse, which is commonly iniquitous.
But what's the good of being Chief Inspector of the Universe,
And prying into everything from pompous Law to puny verse,
If everything or nearly so, shows a confounded tendency
To go right of its own accord? My Masterful Resplendency
Would radiate aurorally, a world would gaze on trustingly
If only things in general wouldn't go on so disgustingly.
Where is the pull of being Earth's Inspector autocratical,
When the Progress I'd be motor of seems mainly automatical?
Hooray! My would-be Jupiter, a parvenu is told again
He's not the true Olympian, Jack-in-the-Box is "Sold Again!!!"
"ARTIFICIAL OYSTER-CULTIVATION," read Mrs. R., as the heading of a par in the Times. "Good gracious!" she exclaimed, "who on earth would ever think of eating 'artificial oysters!'"
NOTHING is certain in this life except Death, Quarter Day and stoppage for ten minutes at Swindon Station.
SO CONVENIENT!
Young Wife. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, REGGIE DEAR?"
Reggie Dear. "ONLY TO THE CLUB, MY DARLING."
Young Wife. "OH, I DON'T MIND THAT, BECAUSE THERE'S A TELEPHONE THERE, AND I CAN TALK TO YOU THROUGH IT, CAN'T I?"
Reggie. "Y-YES—BUT—ER—YOU KNOW, THE CONFOUNDED WIRES ARE ALWAYS GETTING OUT OF ORDER!"
PARLIAMENT À LA MODE DE PARIS.
SCENE—The Chamber during a Debate of an exciting character. Member with a newspaper occupying the Tribune.
Member. I ask if the report in this paper is true? It calls the Minister a scoundrel! [Frantic applause.
President. I must interpose. It is not right that such a document should be read.
Member. But it is true. I hold in my hand this truth-telling sheet. (Shouts of "Well done!") This admirable journal describes the Minister as a trickster, a man without a heart! [Yells of approbation.
President. I warn the Member that he is going too far. He is outraging the public conscience. ["Hear! hear!"
Member. It is you that outrage the public conscience. [Sensation.
President. This is too much! If I hear another word of insult, I will assume my hat.
[Profound and long-continued agitation.
Member. A hat is better than a turned coat! (Thunders of applause.) I say that this paper is full of wholesome things, and that when it denounces the Minister as a good-for-nothing, as a slanderer, as a thief—it does but its duty.
[Descends from the Tribune amidst tumultuous applause, and is met by the Minister. Grand altercation, with results.
Minister's Friends. What have you done to him?
Minister (with dignity). I have avenged my honour—I have hit him in the eye!
[Scene closes in upon the Minister receiving hearty congratulations from all sides of the Chamber.
PRESERVED VENICE.
(Specially Imported for the London Market.)
A SATURDAY NIGHT SCENE AT OLYMPIA.
IN THE PROMENADE.
A Pessimistic Matron (the usual beady and bugle-y female, who takes all her pleasure as a penance). Well, they may call it "Venice," but I don't see no difference from what it was when the Barnum Show was 'ere—except—(regretfully)—that then they 'ad the Freaks o' Nature, and Jumbo's skelinton!
"I'm sure I'm 'ighly flattered, Mum, but I'm already suited."Her Husband (an Optimist—less from conviction than contradiction). There you go, MARIA, finding fault the minute you've put your
