1
10
1
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/83e29122ec2faf795d6b2e4e2a46dacb.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=CgacB51seYHVqFGjHHNqRCSwyEPIeFsK6xQlXgVJBjpKRsmpO5Z45EI%7EMB1NY-PYcpmiZVmQmxEILWqCV0yRLqyl6iGlfr7ROuhPXT9ly5Cgl6Ok2TojShl3bb1ZJPV6fXhYLKu1QABO7FLBaEpxlC8BjeiSxomcM9govAssh8oMd2-Ng%7Eo3o-L2DxPNhr6234p0tr8Ky2xOluGj2259N%7EOthFXbIowNODMdeJLLaoqTryJFjMv09n244qfaDJ2sjFep1rlq%7E%7EQBjY0PWfSvSSr%7E83fBl-wdan5rZN7JjT%7Emw0eWoSHR6%7EkmO17ruBbv-%7EsZF-hBDyVjuVF8Lf4VPA__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
424d50dc2487d9856d9dc370791a070d
PDF Text
Text
�THE FIFTEENTH SEASON.
J
JntroUuction
§^E who do not listen with credulity to the0.’, t
whispers of fancy, and who do not pursue ■
with eagerness the pleasures of hope, who do not,
in fact, prefer the style of Dr. Johnson, attend to ••
the history of Fijitee, Prince of Fiji!
Far away on.the western ocean, the mighty
waves of the Pacific beat against the rocky islands < . •
..of Fiji. We may still call them islands, for the.
. /annexation to the British Empire does not esta. >
blish a geographical connexion. The great King
Thackambau, or Cacambau, or Whackambau—-
�1
1
THE FIJIAD; OR,
]
-Xi,'
,
>
r
M -X-
i.2ij
■
the interesting language of the country is still un
dom, to eat the remainder of the Scotchman, which
settled, and the ortf ography variable—ruled over
they did, with results personally inconvenient.
a primitive and innocent community; their habits
Happy and beautiful Fiji! In thy sequestered
were simple and they knew no sauces. The
vales dwelt an amiable community whom gorillas
visitor from distant shores, whom chance had
might have envied. The first principles of politibrought to the islands, returned no more to the
cal economy were understood and practised. By
“ girl he had left behind him;” he was received
the simple method we have alluded to all danger
with open arms and mouths by the primitive
of a redundant population was avoided. “The
community, who introduced.him to their clubs (on
greatest fatness of the greatest number’’ was the
his head), and insisted on his joining them at
object aimed at. The cook was an important
dinner-time. If young and tender, he was after
public officer in every village and separate island.
wards affectionately remembered as a nice man.
When provisions threatened to run short, he sent
There was no ostentation in this way of welcom
a party of brave warriors to some adjacent place on
ing a visitor, no display or affectation. The
. an excursion to obtain food, and they were known
reception was warm, for the ovens in the ground
as the cook’s excursionists.
. were well heated; and similar warmth was ex
For many centuries it is supposed that these
hibited in their own domestic relations. There
innocent and engaging islanders lived happily
was a fine spirit of forgiveness exhibited by hus
and unknown to the world in general. If space
bands if their wives offended; they did not seek
permitted we would willingly relate their history,
a separation, but an even closer alliance, making
notwithstanding the fact — scarcely worthy the
their wives more than ever bone of their bone
consideration of the enlightened and imaginative
and flesh of their flesh, by the simple process of
historian—that absolutely nothing is known about
■ eating them.
it. If, with all our pretensions to intellectual
So little advanced are we of this hemisphere,
cultivation, all our accumulation of statistics, all
who proudly call ourselves civilized, in genuine
our elaborate histories, Parliamentary debates,
scientific civilization, that we entertain a repug
and, above all, our “ special correspondents,” we
nance to this interesting method of absorbing
are not permitted to invent facts, our civilization
protoplasm. In the evolution of the ages, when
is indeed in vain—and what becomes of the liberty
we understand better the atomic theory, we may
of the subject ?
perceive how wise, and consequently how happy,
At length rumours of the existence of Fiji
the Fijians were. They had no paupers, and no
reached the Old and Transatlantic worlds, and
half-starved people, for it was considered inju
those worlds were equal to the occasion. Professor
dicious and bad economy to allow anybody to
Hornseyrise prepared a special advertisement of
become thin; no prisoners, for a jury tried all
his pills for the preservation of wooden legs from
accused persons, and if they liked one of the
dry-rot, but being told that there was as yet no
number, admitted the rest to boil.
Fijian newspaper, sank into melancholy, and
Happy and beautiful Fiji ! We will not dwell
was with difficulty prevented taking a couple of
upon this slight peculiarity farther than to allude
his own pills, so great was his despair. The
to the successful operation of an Acclimatization
author of a pamphlet, written to show the possiSociety, which added English missionaries,
bility of running excursion-trains on railways
Yankee sailors, and Chinamen to the national diet,
without smashing one out of every five, and who
and once experimented on a wandering Scotch
had very properly been confined by his friends as
man, but were overpowered by the snuff. The
a lunatic, set to work on an elaborate essay on
reigning monarch of the time, after partaking of
the subject, with calculations and diagrams tendlunch, nearly sneezed himself into fits, and con
ing to convince the Fijian mind; but, having
sequently passed an Adulteration Act, having
• rashly committed himself to the statement that
first eased his mind by condemning fifteen of his
two trains running in opposite directions on a
wives, his prime minister, his principal performer
single line of rails should not be started at the
on the bones, and other dignitaries of his king
same time, it was considered that his mania had
W T 'l^ il ...
2
!
‘
i
I
'
I
I
¡
I
■
I
Ij
I
I
J
¡
I
I
I
I
' ¡k
|
a
[
|
|
f
H
'1
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
assumed a dangerous form, and he was heard of
no more. Several public companies and syndicates
b were floated for the purpose of carrying out public
works in the islands, but the projectors, having
raised a good round sum of promotion money,
suddenly disappeared. Perhaps they went to Fiji
to survey the place and were “adopted,” as it
was termed. Emigration societies were proposed,
and many kind-hearted persons affectionately
urged their poor relations, creditors, mothers1
i.
in-law, comic vocalists, superior persons, hornyhanded sons of toil with a gift of spouting, musical
geniuses learning to play the flute, and .others
7
who were felt to be undeserved blessings, to
a,,
emigrate to Fiji. One party did start, but qs the
a ■
ship was heavily insured by the owners, and
>1/
leaked considerably, and the captain took obser
vations through a glass of grog every half hour,
y.
and the crew was made up of runaway Lascars,
n
3English tramps who wanted a change, and work
lfi
house boys whose muscles had been developed on
!e*
skilly and a half-ounce diet, the ship was never
S
heard of afterwards, and the emigrants, it is
43
supposed, never reached Fiji. If they had landed
40
on the shore of the hospitable islands, they would
3JI
not have received a hearty greeting. The stock
'io
of provisions on board having been only sufficient
for half the voyage, they would not have been
Ü9
eligible parties, and, instead of a public banquet
being held in their honour, they would have been
condemned to be made into bone flutes and the
handles of tooth-brushes. A Fiji epicure, like a
French Republican, cannot endure a bony part.
But civilization did reach the beautiful islands.
Representatives of the Aryan-Anglo-SaxonFenian-old-horse-and-alligator race came, saw,
and swindled. They did not at first venture
ashore, but they contrived to trade with canoe
parties, and, as they only cheated moderately at
first, soon made an impression. The Fiji mind is
not insusceptive of new ideas. Gradually, but
ardently, the native intellect widened to appreciate
the beauty of rum. “Hands off!” said the
white men, “ and thè rum is yours ; if you eat us
you will drink no more.” The argument was
irresistible—and there was peace between the
races. “You will not eat zzv?” timidly sug
fé 9® gested one venerable chief, who kept himself in
Lf3 training by putting a lump of fat on his head to
melt in the sun and so keep him basted, and who
had never had his hair cut. “ Not if I know it! ”
emphatically replied the captain of one of the
ships, adding adjectives and noun-substantives of
ornamentation which the limited capacity of the
Fijian language would not, in the opinion of
Mr. Wax Duller, allow to be translated.
So the heralds of civilization came to Fiji.
Among them might be found the adventurers
whose bowie-knives were known in every gulch
in auriferous California, who had cheated and
“gone at” the heathen Chinee in the guileless
bar-rooms of San Francisco; acute speculators
who had made tracks from Ballarat and Bendigo on
account of certain transactions not conducted
according to the ordinary rules of commercial
intercourse; and others who had made themselves
so popular and respected in various parts of the
world, that when they had departed unobserved
(so modest and unassuming were they in disposi
tion) the local authorities, desiring to preserve the
memory of such worthy citizens, caused accurate
descriptions of their personal appearance to be
preserved in the public archives.
Aided by teachers so accomplished, the Fijians
rapidly learned some of the more attractive of the
civilized arts. A native actuary calculated that
in one year 75 per cent, of the adult population
had acquired the accomplishment of drinking
rum; 37 per cent, exhibited a taste for tobacco,
and it was reported by government inspectors
appointed to prepare a report on the improved
moral condition of the islands, that already con
siderable progress had been made in swearing.
This was. very encouraging; and when some of
the younger islanders showed a desire to learn to
read, the delight of the party of progress was
excessive. Cannibalism was discouraged, the
white visitors, influenced, perhaps, by some per
sonal considerations, having informed the king
and the leaders of fashion about the court that
in good society in Europe and America the
practice was considered low. There were, of
course, some admirers of old customs who con
sidered all new lights as heretical, but, finding
themselves out-voted, they retired into the interior,
ate one another in conformity with the traditions
of the Fijian constitution, and were described in
court and political circles as the country party.
1—2
�4
THE FIJIAD; OR,
A number of ardent youthful Fijians of good
birth eagerly embraced the new doctrines.
They went on board all the ships to borrow white
waistcoats, which they instinctively felt to be the
right sort of thing to be worn by propagandists
of fiew ideas, and they styled themselves Young
Fiji. They called aloud for the civilized <world
to come to them, and it did come ; and it carried
away on its return voyage a considerable number
of able-bodied Fijians, promising that they should
be taken to delightful places and employed in
most exhilarating pursuits, that they should
enjoy delicious luxuries, and be happy to an
extent even unknown in the most beatific stage of
Fijian history, and that rum should ever fill the
flowing bowl.
They went: some were shot down, some who
were troublesome were tied in couples and thrown
overboard. They were starved, beaten, and
made slaves of, and they did not highly appre
ciate civilization of that kind.
But Young Fiji knew nothing about such un
pleasant matters. They read, they talked politics,
and had some vague notions of attempting foot
ball and Polo. They all played at poker, and
some grew cunning in compounding drinks.
They were greatly enlightened, and some of the
more adventurous longed to see the world.
Of all the golden youth of Fiji young Prince
Fijitee was the most golden. He was the son
of the immediate predecessor of Thackambau,
and had two hundred mothers. Strange as this
fact may seem, it may be thus explained. The
king had a large number of wives, and the babies
they presented him with were sent away until
they were a year old, and then a few of the
prettiest were picked out to be kept, and the
others—well, I prefer to leave their fate in ob
scurity, only remarking that mince-pies were much
eaten about that time. Those preserved could
not be identified by their actual mothers, and
were considered as belonging to all the wives.
Fijitee was a clever lad and learned quickly.
White residents imbued the king with advanced
ideas on politics, and persuaded him to form a
ministry to govern his kingdom, with high
salaries and lots of perquisites for members of
the cabinet. From a sincere desire to assist
the king, they kindly consented to accept all
�ENGLISH HIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
the offices which paid best. They worked hard
for their money, for they got the government into
financial difficulties with a rapidity and skill
which would have done credit to an administra
tion at home, and began to make preparations
for establishing a military force, armed with rifles
which would knock over the soldiers attempting
to fire them, and so prevent them being killed
by the enemy, and for building ships of war
which could not be navigated, so the crews would
be kept out of harm’s way.
Fijitee seized every opportunity of obtaining
instruction, and he was a patriot too. He had
once seen an English newspaper, and, with the
aid of the mate of a whaler—who explained the
hard words by the help of glasses of grog,
which Fijitee paid for—had perused one of the
leading articles, from which he conceived the
idea that the British constitution was inseparably
connected with Julius Caesar, the nebular theory,
Mother Shipton, the destruction of Pompeii,
Epictetus the philosopher, the Neuskoi avenue
at St. Petersburg, Marco Polo’s discoveries,
the atmosphere of the planet Jupiter, Louis the
Fourteenth, spectrum analysis, and the late Mr.
Grimaldi.
That leading article -was the spark that fired
the latent gunpowder in the nature of Prince
Fijitee. “I do not,” he said to himself, “de
spise the wisdom of my ancestors. I rather revere
them—is not this toothpick a very personal relic
of the bones of my great uncle ? But there is
a future for Fiji, and I will achieve it. I will
start a newspaper or perish in the attempt. I
will go to England; I shall meet there the most
intellectual and refined of mankind, who of course
write for the papers. I will obtain from them
information as to the manners, social customs,
politics, literature, great chiefs, magicians, of the
old country, and will publish the Daily Fijigrafih
with a series of—
Graphic and Highly Interesting Letters
by OUR
Special Correspondent in England.”
5
How Fijitee obtained his Information.
^GTOUNG, intelligent, and attractive in appearance, Fijitee, on his arrival in this country,
soon made friends. He brought letters of introduc
tion to an individual at Wapping who supplied
fashionable Sunday-going attire to sailors home
from long voyages, and only charged about twice
as much as dress-suits could have been bought
for in Savile Row; to two promoters of public
companies, and to Mr. Camrac, who was a pro
prietor of menageries and agent for showmen,
and who allowed captains of merchant vessels
a liberal commission on the price of all curiosities
they could supply him with. The prince also
had a letter from the Attorney-General of Fiji
to an eminent member of Parliament, who,
knowing scarcely anything about the matters
ordinarily debated, was clever at discovering
grievances in remote quarters of the globe, and
puzzling Under-Secretaries by asking for papers
connected with the fining of John Smith, an
able-bodied sailor, for being drunk in some place
of which nobody at the Colonial Office had ever
before heard the name. This gentleman was also
remarkable as being able to introduce at con
versaziones and evening parties a greater num
ber of wronged Cochin China princes, persecuted
Cossack chiefs, and victims of British treachery
from the shores of Lake Tanganyaki than any
other popular philanthropist of the day.
He
was a contributor to, and part proprietor of, a
newspaper which was established to promote
principles of universal philanthropy, and which,
among other objects, advocated a quadrupled
income-tax, and the doubling generally of all
import duties, for the purpose of raising a fund
to provide the Esquimaux with small-tooth combs
and encyclopaedias, and the down-trodden people
of Central Africa with penny ices, free of duty,
and the literature of progress.
This eminent person jumped at Prince Fijitee,
who was worthy of all the attention he could
bestow. The young foreigner was laudably desirous
to conform to English manners and fashions, but
he could not tear from his heart the memory of
his beloved country, and his fine sensitive nature
bade him retain something which would justify
�6
•
THE FITIAD; OR,
him in saying, Semper Fijiles. This compound
feeling is not unfamiliar to the observer of human
nature. The Chinaman who dwells in this coun
try wears English shoes and invariably carries an
English umbrella, but his pigtail he never can
renounce. Fijitee adopted the dress-coat and
white hat of civilization, but he retained the
national style of wearing the hair in a large
cushion or chignon. (How the nations that we in
our ignorance sneer at as barbarous have antici
pated some of our greatest so-called inventions !)
On the summit of this mark of aristocracy he
placed the white hat, and the effect was distingue.
Descended from one of the oldest lamilies of the
islands, he of course possessed the blue nose wrhich
showed the unmixed exclusiveness of his race.
At a remote period of Fijian history, Fiji was con
quered by a neighbouring chief, whose followers
ate or made slaves of the native population. The
descendants of those who came with him consider
he acted in a most laudable manner, are very
proud of him, boast that their ancestors came
over with the conqueror, and that they inherit
the blue noses of the victorious race. It was
a sister of Fijitee who, being offered marriage
by the third mate of a Queensland trading vessel,
with a bottle of rum for “the old man,’’ as an
additional inducement, made the remarkable
reply, “ Go along 1 my blue nose has been uncon
taminated for a thousand years, and shall I wed
with one who can show no quarters to the arms of
his coat ?” Fijitee adopted large collars, for
having only once before seen a collar, or indeed
the garment to which the collar is an appendage,
he resolved to make the most of it—and indeed it
kept his ears warm in this comparatively chilly
climate. He wore two watches and a Brummagem
chain (for which he paid only five pounds an
ounce, so fair-dealing was the Wapping merchant),
and carried a thick walking-stick and an umbrella
of the choicest fabric of gingham. It is needless
to say that he made an impression in all societies
to w’hich he was introduced. There was some
talk of publishing his portrait in an illustrated
newspaper, and he was interviewed unsuccessfully
by a gentleman representing an accomplished
brotherhood of artists, who made rather unintel
ligible allusions to bones and tambourines, and
assured -him that if he would favour them with his
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
society of an evening he would never be, required
to do anything out of London.
Amidst all this seductive attraction Fijitee
never for a moment lost sight of the main object of
his visit. His friend, the eminent member we
have mentioned, assured him that the best mode
of obtaining perfectly authentic information was
to associate with representatives of the press, who
went everywhere, saw everything, and knew every
body, and who had such an immaculate respect
for truth that they never coloured a description or
invented anything. As to misleading a foreigner
by purposely incorrect information, they would as
soon miss an opportunity of getting a gratuitous
champagne lunch, or admit that they were not in
the habit of playing billiards every evening with
the Duke of Auld Reekie, or slapping Field
Marshal Commanding-in-Chief on the shoulder
and asking him to go odd man for shandy-gaff.
Gentlemen of the press, Fijitee was assured, were
a class whose unblemished veracity, simple man
ners, and unobtrusive deportment entitled them
to his entire confidence.
He was accordingly introduced to several of these •
gentlemen, who willingly agreed, having first as
certained that he had abundant cash at disposal,
to give him the information he required. There
was Mr. Omnium, who wrote the famous his
torical, chronological, gossippy,. archaeological,
and reflective leader on the supposed discovery of
a remnant of the famous garment which cost King
Stephen half-a-crown (alluded to by Shakspere,
and consequently involving a critical examination
of the play of Othello}; there was Mr. Veritas,
who had enjoyed so many strange experiences, and
who saw the famous swimming-match between a
charity-boy, wearing his leather nether garments
and all his medals, and an alligator; Mr. Pinto
Polo, who had achieved so much fame as a foreign
correspondent in all parts of the world; Mr. Macsnuff, who did statistics generally, and made
abstracts of Parliamentary reports; Mr. O’Quill,
who for ten days, during the siege of Paris, had
nothing to eat but the vertebrae of a daddy-longlegs, and was as amusing and rattling as ever in
the letters he wrote during the time—who was
twice taken by the Germans and condemned to be
shot as a spy, but who saved his life by singing
comic ®ongs and asking conundrums of the com
1
manding officers, and who afterwards lectured,
with great success, in this country on the FrancoGerman War, having purchased an old panorama
of the Arctic Regions, and interspersed his re
marks with sentimental and humorous vocaliza
tion ; Mr. Robinson, who reported public dinners,
and whose health was slightly affected by devotion
to his duties ; and a very cheerful gentleman, Mr.
Smith, who attended executions and private flog
gings of garrotters and was famous for his stock
of amusing anecdotes. Then there was the agree
able Mr. Brown, who did the fashionable and
“ languid swell ” gossip for some of the Sunday
papers and the London correspondence for several
of the provincials. He was (his readers were re
quested to believe) consulted previous to Privy
Councils and all matters of high importance, and
occupied his leisure, which was very considerable,
at playing croquet and Badminton with duchesses,
lounging at pic-nics and flower shows, and eating
strawberries expressly grown for him by marquises.
So great was his condescension, that he appeared
to his intimate friends—the other gentlemen of
the press—as nothing more than an individual
who dwelt at Camberwell, dined off a chop in a
Fleet Street court, and evidently did not have his
coat made in Savile Row.
There was another gentleman, Mr. Johnson,
who occupied a great position. He told Prince
Fijitee, and, of course, expected to be implicitly
believed, that he was the confidential literary
adviser of nearly all the leading authors of the
day, prosaic and poetic; that, in fact, all the best
things in their works were either his outright or
suggested by him. He was highly qualified,
therefore, to communicate information respecting
literature, and what the writers of thej day were
thinking about and doing.
Prince Fijitee was delighted with the varied
attainments and engaging social qualities of these
gentlemen. How to avail himself most advan
tageously of their assistance was a difficulty which
presented itself to his mind. They were evidently
so anxious to assist his project of establishing a
newspaper in his native islands that each of them,
separately and privately, proposed that he should
be appointed “special correspondent” to it, and,
said each of them, “ If you were to pay the first’
. year’s salary in advance it would be much the best
�Ill I Hili IL... . I~~7
8
¡■MHHi
THE FIJIAD; OR,
plan, you know.” In the most friendly manner,
each warned him against the mistakes into which
excess of zeal might lead the others. “Johnson is
a good fellow,” said Smith, “ a first-rate fellow, in
fact; but his imagination runs away with him,
and he will tell awful bouncers if encouraged too
much.” “ Smith,” said Johnson, also very confi
dentially, “ has a weakness for inventing; his
forte, he thinks, is 1 touching up’ a little—truth,
with variations, you know, my dear sir. I wouldn’t,
if I were you, believe more than about one-fifth of
what he says.”
Fijitee was momentarily perplexed; but the
truly great man, civilized or savage, overcomes
difficulties. “ They shall meet together,” he said,
“ and one can correct the other. The man
amongst them who can tell the biggest bouncer
must be a man of genius, and so worth knowing.
I shall learn much in their society.”
On the voyage to this country Fijitee had met
with a book in the captain’s cabin which much
interested him, “The Arabian Nights’ Entertain
ments,” and, remembering that, he conceived an
idea. He would assemble his new friends every
evening, and have a story told him before he went
to sleep. Each story should illustrate some
peculiarity of English life, and so he would obtain
abundant materials of the most authentic kind
for his proposed series of articles.
His new friends were delighted with this scheme.
There was nothing, he was told, which sharpened
the intellect and assisted the memory like a good
supper, with plenty of champagne, a mixture ex
pressly recommended by the faculty of medicine
and named “ toddy,” and choice cigars. Being
assured that he left the arrangements entirely to
them, and only required in return to be instructed
in English manners and customs, the alacrity with
which his proposition for a series of suppers
was acceded to was interestingly unanimous ;
and, very singularly, they all found time to attend.
How the cabinet ministers, the duchesses, and
other dependent individuals got on without them,
we know not; but the devotion of the intellectual
band, especially to the toddy and cigars, was
edifying in the extreme. They agreed among
themselves not to contradict each other too much,
or their host might believe none, and the suppers
come to an end.
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
Humble chroniclers as we are, all unworthy to
record the wit and wisdom, the power of graphic
narration, the fervent imaginative discourses of
these choice spirits, we will endeavour to record,
for the instruction of enlightened posterity, the
conversation, grave and gay, and the stories
narrated, at these delightful meetings. They
were described by one of the company as, 11 really,
you know, quite a revival of ‘ Nodes Ambrosiance.' ”
“Knocked his what?” asked the thought
ful Fijian.
“Does Ambrosiance mean his
nose ? ”
A smile, such as irradiates the features of
genius when in the presence of the Loveable
and the True, lit up the intellectual countenances
around the board, and then Fijitee knew that he
had said a clever thing, although he did not know
why it was clever. He had yet much to learn
regarding the subtleties of the civilized intellect.
“ It would be as well, instead of talking such
nonsense,” said Mr. M'Snuff, “if we just settled
the order of our proceedings for to-morrow even
ing. There’s nothing like being prepared before
9
hand. Now, I have collected several interesting
parliamentary papers, containing statistics as to
the number of red-herrings annually sold in the
London markets, the ages and occupations of
the consumers, the relative number of juvenile
purchasers, and the pupils attending the Board
Schools in the respective districts. I have also
returns—’ ’
“Hang returns,” interposed O’Quill, “that’s
low, stick to cigars ! ”
“You are low to interrupt a gentleman,”
replied M'Snuff. “ I thought the particulars
carefully carried out to decimal fractions might
interest our kind host.”
“I think not,” said Fijitee. “I have tasted
red-herring, and it reminded me of—well, I will
spare your feelings, but he was described to me
as an Old Salt. He was old and he was salt.
I remember him of course with kindness, but I
would rather not, in my present state of mind,
and with due respect to your very interesting
manners and customs, refer at greater length to
that elderly mariner.”
�IO
THE FIJIAD; OR,
dFir$t
©be
(Entertainment
.JjP HAVE drunk champagne, and I like it,”
sententiously remarked the Fijian host;
“ England is a great country. I think champagne
expands the ideas.”
“I have found it to do so,” said O’Quill,
“ when, in addition, I have investigated the pro- .
perties of a few glasses of toddy. They enlarge
my mental vision.”
“They do,” added Jones; “you see at least
twice as much as you did before.”
“Do you really see twice as much after
toddy ?” asked the host; “then I would rather
drink toddy than wear spectacles.”
“Admirable! excellent!” went round the
table, and once more Fijitee felt that he had been
witty.
“ Wouldn’t it be a good idea to start a comic
publication as well as a newspaper ? ’ ’ suggested
Omnium. “We will help you. Call it the
Fijian Hunch, or the Polynesian Pun."
“ I fear,” replied Fijitee, “ my countrymen are
not sufficiently enlightened for such a publication.
When my paper has trained their intellects and
advanced their perception, they might enjoy
humour.”
“ If they did,” said Brown, with a slight
snarl, “they would not like a comic publica
tion.”
“Now I think of it again,” said Omnium,
“there might be difficulties. Have you any
servant-girls and Sunday-schools in Fiji ? ”
“No, I believe not,” said the Prince.
“Then Hunch wouldn’t do; there would be.
nothing to be funny about. No, stick to the paper.
And now, most estimable chairman, who’s down
for the first story ? ’
“ Before we begin,” said Fijitee, in an apolo
getic manner, “perhaps you would favour me
with some information respecting one. or two
little matters in which I have been, within the
last few days, greatly interested. I observed
various festive processions, with an effigy carried
by men and boys. At certain distances the
bearers stayed their progress and recited what
might have been a poem, but I could not catch
the words, so rapidly were they pronounced,
under the influence, apparently, of patriotic
enthusiasm. One word sounded like the name of
one of the months. What was the meaning of
this interesting display ? ”
“ Brown knows more .of fashionable life than
I do; he went to Three Balls yesterday and
enjoyed a Pickwick, or pic-nic—-it means the
same,” said Smith; “perhaps he will oblige.”
“I think,” interposed Johnson, “I had better
give the information, having lately (of course you
will not let this go any farther) been requested by
my friend the eminent historian, Stepworth
Fixin, to touch up his new-work, the ‘History of
Two Guys,’ and put in appropriate anecdotes and
poetical allusions. His work will prove that
Guido Fawkes, in whose honour the processions
you, Sir, noticed were held, was a man much mis
represented by venal historians. He was really a
man of science and a philosopher, who tried to
develop Parliamentary institutions, to diffuse, in
fact, the wisdom of Parliament by means of an
application of the explosive properties of gun
powder. An ardent admirer of royalty, he wished
the sovereign to be considerably above his people.
He was greatly respected by some of the wisest of
his contemporaries, who usually spoke of him as
‘their Guy, philosopher, and friend,’ and the.
masses of the community highly venerate his
memory.”
“Yours is a wonderful country,” said Fijitee.
“ I have another question. I saw a small figure
representing a hero with large nose and chin, and
a strange growth behind and before. He was
beating another figure having something of the
appearance of a female ; and, with a joy I can
hardly describe, I recognized an institution of
my native land, where the club of the judicious
husband instructs the wife in her duties.”
“In this country,” replied Johnson, “many
wives object to clubs. The hero whose effigy you
saw was Punch. He was a great warrior in the
old times, and his name is still commonly used to
indicate acts of energetic valour, as ‘ I will Punch
your head.’ But, with that prevailing tendency
to melancholy which you will observe as you come
to be better acquainted with this country, the re
membrance of this joyous hero is employed to re
press a too exuberant tendency to merriment, and,
�ENGLISH NIGHIS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
with an exquisite, if somewhat cynical, satire, a
publication which always causes a feeling of de
pression, not to say dismalness, is named after
him. The same national feeling of despondency,
stimulated by the foggy climate and the repetition
of international exhibitions, is shown in maintaining
Temple Bar in a. decrepit condition as a warning
to City people not to be too jolly, for they, too,
will be shaky some day. The Lord Mayor is com
pelled by custom to pass under it at least once a
year, and it does him good.”
“ I am glad you have mentioned those facts,
Johnson,” said Smith. “ It is right that our dis
tinguished friend should fully understand our
peculiarities. I should like to add, that at Christ
mas time, when we are all supposed to be so
happy and cheerful, so virtuous and benevolent,
somebody always sets to work to tell ghost-stories
to frighten us out of our wits; and there are public
exhibitions of men strangely dressed, with very
queer legs and painted faces, who steal sausages,
knock down policemen, and exhibit many other
instances of human depravity. The intention of
this is, to prevent our believing we are half so
good as the ‘ genial ’ writers of Christmas stories
would persuade us we are. It is a painful but
useful reflection that is excited by such dis
plays.”
“ Thank you very much,’’replied Fijitee, drink
ing another glass of champagne as if he liked it—■
such is the natural depravity of the savage race
from which he was descended. “ I am afraid of
troubling you too much, or perhaps offending you,
but I should really like to ask one or two more
questions.”
“ Speak out, old man—I mean, my distinguished
friend—the toddy is good, and we are not par
ticular,” was the benevolent observation of
O’Quill.
“Then, may I ask whether the slight pecu
liarity, as you are pleased to term it, of my an
cestral race, the relish for—well, I scarcely know
how to speak without offence, but the doctor of
the ship I came over in, who was really quite a
clever man, and the member of several societies,
once playfully called it, anthropoid pork—what,
in fact, you speak of as cannibalism, is quite
unknown in this country ? ”
“ None of your nonsense, Fijitee ! ” indignantly
i
chimed in Brown, Johnson, and Robinson, “that’s
rather too strong.”
“If,”, went on Smith, “our editor were to
send me to report a cannibal banquet, I
should tell him the line must be drawn some
where. I did go to a horse-flesh affair; and,
hang me, if it did not take several goes of Irish
to get the taste out of my mouth ; but there are
limits. Jerqued-beef sausages and potted Kan
garoo are quite as much as a fellow can reason
ably be expected to put up with and write a par.
about afterwards.”“I would not offend for the world,” said
Fijitee, apologetically, “ but I read the news
papers, and I have looked about me a little since
I have been in this great country. Is not,” he
asked, lowering his voice, “a baron a person of
high rank, a chief ? ”
“He is, old fellow,” explained Robinson:
“ sits in the House of Peers, and all that sort of
thing.”
“ Then,” asked the Prince, in a thrilling whis
per, “w'hatwas the offence committed by those
two Barons of Beef who were cut up at the Lord
Mayor’s dinner ? ”
“Fijitee,” said Brown, with dignity, “I be
lieved thee true, and I was blessed in so believing ;
I am sorry to see that you have ^already acquired
the habit of chaffing. If you go on like that
you will lose respect for truth, and will have
difficulty in believing all that our friends here tell
you.-”
“Iam very sorry,” replied the Prince, Some
what dolefully; “I only wanted to know. Your
country is a great country, but it is difficult to
understand it. Why, I actually heard that at
that very dinner a great number of the guests
were ‘ toasted.’ What am I to believe ? ”
There was a solemn pause; Veritas looked at
Brown, Brown whispered Robinson; and every
body took another sip at the toddy. Then Smith
spoke gravely and hesitatingly, his friends nod
ding a sad assent to his remarks.
“The intuitive genius of your noble race has
penetrated one of our most cherished secrets.
It is in vain to attempt to conceal the fact any
longer. Your suspicion is well-founded. Closely
adjoining the ancient hall where civic dignitaries
feed is a church, and on the summit you may see
�IIJIAD; OR,
a gridiron, that means volumes. Does it not,
Brown? (Brown winked.) In ordinary conversa
tion among the initiated—before strangers they
are more cautious—you may hear such words as
‘he’s gone to pot,’ ‘he’s in a precious stew,’ ‘ he’s
done brown,’ and similar phrases. Do not make
remarks out of doors, for it might get you into
trouble; but notice the enormous legs of the
footmen behind the «carriages—they are training
for the footman show—and those calves so large
and round—spare my feelings, I cannot go on.”
“ I am very grieved to have pained you, my
dear friend; you have greatly enlightened me.
I now see not only how great a country England
is, but how great also is my own native land,
which anticipated so many of the practices of
your enlightened civilization. We beat and kick
our wives, so do you; we are very proud of our
blue noses, you are of your blue blood ; we make
great feasts, and we drink a great deal of rum and
other good things when we can get them, so do
you ; our big chiefs bully and keep down poor
men who are troublesome, so do yours ; and now
I find that our beautiful and most convenient prac
tice, which you call cannibalism, is not unknown
to you. Yours is a great country ! Let me taste
again that beneficent fizz.”
“We have answered your questions in a spirit
of the strictest veracity,” observed Brown;
“now, Prince, favour us by answering an in
quiry which I know some of our friends are
anxious to put. It is, what on earth made you
first think of starting a newspaper in Fiji ? I
do not require the information myself, gentle
men,” he added, looking round the table, “for
our distinguished friend has already informed me
previously; and, indeed, I have given him my
humble assistance—just as, now and then, you
know, I lend a hand to some other fellows, Mennyson, Carlee——”
“All right, old boy,” suggested Omnium, “you
needn’t go on—there’s nobody here but our
selves.”
“Sir, you are objectionable, not to say im
pertinent. I was about to say, that our illustrious
friend in the chair, thinking that the question
would be asked, showed me some rough notes he
had made, and requested me to put them into a
shape likely to be agreeable to you. We have no
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
regular story ready to-night, but before we part
we will settle one for to-morrow, and in the, mean
while perhaps you will keep as quiet as you can
while I read—
And grow very clever, and wish to take trips
On the sea in canoes they call their big ships.
So many of sailors and travelers you’ll eat,
That in a few years you will grow like your meat,
For the atoms absorbed will be bone of your
bone,
The ideas of the roasted becoming your own—
White men and yellow, and missionaree
All mixed up in men of the future Fiji.
’Tis the sunstroke I got gives me mystical lore,
And whitey-brown darkeys cast shadows before.
I see the Fijian, once peerless in might,
His blue nose turned red, his complexion quite
white ;
He’ll wear hat on his head and boots on his feet,
So much he’ll be altered by what he does eat ;
And Darwin will come to explain whythe pale----- ’
“ ‘ The Prophecy of the Witch of Fiji.1 1
jp®ET me first premise that the witch was a remarkably ugly specimen of the tribe, who
lived several hundred years ago, and who, having
been greatly offended by the head chief of the
islands, who was remarkably fond of tit-bits, and
kept them all to himself, warned him that in time
great changes would take place. He laughed to
scorn the predictions of the old lady (from the de
scription given by our illustrious friend, who has
carefully preserved native traditions of the event, I
should think she must have been remarkably like
the Aunt Sally of our popular recreation), and
thereby greatly annoyed her. He suffered for his
rashness, for in the course of a short time all his
wool came off, and, for the first time in his life, he
suffered from dyspepsia ; and, although he tried
ninety-nine certain cures prepared by native
physicians, and sacrificed a hundred-and-fifty
slaves, he obtained no benefit, and died miser
ably. However, gentlemen, here is the authentic
legend : —
'
i
;
■
“ ‘ King Cannibalooni, beware of the day
When too many white men for dinner you slay !
For others will come and be ready to fight,
Or the rum-bottle offer, and then you’ll be tight—
You will do as they wish you, no use to be vexed,
Then, Cannibalooni, you will be annexed ! ’
11 ‘ To Jericho toddle, you ugly old seer !
I think you’ve been looking too much at the beer.
Put your head in a bag, you shocking old fright,
I mean to enjoy a good supper to-night.’
“ ‘ Ah ! laugh’st thou, Fijian, my vision to scorn ?
You white-headed black man, I’ll tread on your
corn !
You’ll eat white men so many, that whiter you’ll
grow,
From your ugly old head to the tip of your toe ;
You’ll have white men’s fancies, and turn up your
nose
At our nice little dinners, and want to wear
clothes,
i3
!
1
“ ‘ Down, toothless insuiter, I’ve not got a tail!
Don’t talk such Darwinian rubbish to me,
Neither monkey nor mudfish is known in Fiji.
Then poke up the fire, I will be a CanNibal king ! and so call up my cook and my man,
We’ll have a good supper, old witch, you will see,
For we are getting quite hungry in bonny Fiji.’ ”
“An interesting legend,’’ observed Robinson ;
“ but I should like very respectfully to ask what it
means ? Did the Fijians become possessed of
white men’s ideas in the manner hinted ? ’’
“ They did,” said Fijitee, with an inexpressible
air of melancholy dignity. “ They became more
intellectual and sensitive in mental constitution.
They appreciated the institutions of your country,
when carefully bottled, and expressed a desire to
imitate many of the virtues of the white men who
visited them. The witch was right. We have
absorbed the Europeans and Americans, and we
promise to develop into a great nation. I have
myself had a peculiar evidence of the truth of this
theory, and, if it ’will not fatigue you, I will relate
it.”
“ How does the whisky hold out ?” inquired two
or three of his friends.
“There is another bottle on the sideboard,”
replied the Prince. “Thank you; yes, I will go
ahead; but I am not yet an old man. It is now
more than twenty years ago since a strange visitor
arrived at my native village on the coast of Fiji.
�■MMi
14
THE FIJIAD; OR,
He was an American, but fatter than his country
men generally are. We were interested in him.
My father loved him, oft invited him, still ques
tioned him the story of his life. He told us all:
he was a reporter for the New York Illuminator,
and he had been sent on a special mission to dis
cover the Flying Dutchman. Gentlemen, you are
naturally interested in the fate of that enterprising
reporter. He did not discover the Dutchman ; in
fact, was never heard of afterwards by his anxious
friends, who, however, did not send another
reporter to discover him. The last seen of him
was a few hours previous to a state dinner given in
honour of my revered parent’s birthday. I will
not harass you with details. I was then very
young, but my appetite was good, and I enjoyed
the banquet greatly; and ever since I have been
agitated by an intense desire to establish
a newspaper. I think I must have absorbed a
considerable amount of that reporter. Now, gen
tlemen, I have one more question to ask, and
then, good-night. I told you that my first idea of
these pleasant meetings was derived from reading
the ‘ Arabian Nights’ Entertainments.’ Were
those stories true ? ”
“ Most authentic ! ” “ Perfectly true ! ” was the
chorus'all round the table.
“ Why,” said Brown, “ it was only last summer
that the Caliph Haroun visited this country and
had a state reception. Not a bad fellow at all
was Haroun. I went about with him every
where.”
The Fijian stared, but abstained from any
remark. If he doubted for a moment, however,
he was immediately convinced of the truth of the
statement, for Robinson added, with great ear
nestness of manner—•
“Why, there has just been an Oriental Con
gress, attended by Aladdin, Ali Baba, Sindbad,
and all the other swells, and I reported the pro
ceedings.”
“I tell you what,” Brown broke in, “suppose
that to-morrow night I describe the reception of
the Caliph ? ’ ’
“ An excellent idea ! ” said Fijitee ; “ I declare
I shall scarcely be able to sleep for thinking of it.
O’Quill, my friend, that is the fireplace, not the
door ; and I do not think the lamp-shade is your
hat. Grood-night! ”
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
Second
Entertainment.
W^OU are quite sure,” said Fijitee, when
supper was over and the toddy was on
the table, “ that it was the Caliph who came, and
not an impostor ? ”
“ Certainly not,” replied Brown. “ A fellow
did try it on once, and got five hundred witnesses
to swear they knew him in Bagdad; he claimed
the Koh-i-noor in the Tower; and the trial
■lasted seven years, used up twelve Judges, and
made ever so many Queen’s Counsel start news
papers ; but the imposture was found out at last,
and the man, giving it up as a bad job, took
to penny shows at fairs, sometimes exhibiting
himself as the only rival to Daniel Lambert, the
fat man, and at other times as the ‘ living skele
ton,’ according as there was a chance of busi
ness. But the Caliph did come, and I cannot do
better than read you some extracts from the
newspapers of the time.”
n
1 i
Visit of the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid,
with Extracts from his Private
Diary.
lS>
i.
>!
ST
!
nil
[SI
70I ,
aii '
elq
3di
mi
5 HO
lira
hoy
>9l9
m-§
Ilf
bnf
>inf
lorf
not
noi
(Extract from the Daily Slasher.)
ji^ONDON is all agog with excitement. The
great city from its earliest infancy has not
known such a perturbation of feeling, such a
rapturous dalliance with decorations, such a
loving ecstacy of illuminations as now pervade
its whole frame. From its early days—when the
playful Briton skipped in delight on the banks of
the silvery meandering Thames, as it wended its
tranquil way between the peaceful mud huts
enshrined between the loving grasp of graceful
green trees, with musical bears and artistic wolves
mildly sounding their peaceful octaves, and
venting demi-semi-quaver harmonies to the
elegantly-clad natives, with the impression of
grandeur, peace, and harmony radiating through
all nature to meet the advance of King Coblerinus
and his graceful spouse—down to the present
date, when five or more millions some few odd
thousands and several paltry units [other statis
tical matter omitted here] tremble with anticipa
tion of the coming of the mighty Caliph Haroun-
15
al-Raschid, from then to now no such feelings
have animated the cockney breast with thoughts
of grandeur and unlimited display. Undoubtedly
the mighty metropolis has had many oppor
tunities of indulging its sight-seeing propensities.
[Various descriptions of regal entries into the
city omitted here.] But the present occasion is
far more momentous. The august visitor who
seeks a welcome from our hospitable hands is a
mighty personage in history, the hero of a hun
dred battles, the descendant of a race of kings
whose power knows no limit, whose reputation is
booked first-class to the terminus of Time, whose
ancestors reach far back into the dim vista of the
past, whose patronage and alliance is in the
highest degree essential to the future greatness
and prosperity of our beloved country. He was
born [lengthy biography omitted here].
We will ask the loving reader to kindly accom
pany us along the line of route, planned with the
thoughtful and considerate care of the wishes of
the people for which the organizer is noted.
Starting at Charing Cross Station, we find a
gorgeous allegory typical of the welcome we
accord to the descendant of a hundred kings.
Around the ornamental cross a platform has been
built and a Gothic front erected on each side, at
great labour and expense, so as to form a minia
ture building. Ingeniously adapting an idea
from the weather- prognosticating houses —
which everybody remembers, where two figures,
working on a pivot, advanced or receded as the
functionary who is supposed to have control over
the elements decreed wet or fine weather—a
length of flooring is allowed to work, by special
steam machinery manufactured for the occasion,
alternately to and fro from the archways on either
side of the building. This erection, of course,
suggests our own native land, and each time the
board comes forward there will stand upon it
representatives of the various city companies,
each bearing some tribute from the trade he
represents to the Arabian monarch.
A special throne of state has been erected, and
with its tender mingling of blue, yellow, and green,
will form a splendid centre-point to the brilliant
scene around. This regal chair has been con
siderately fitted with, a golden photographer’s
crook, which, enclosing the neck of the Caliph, is
�1
V
A
16
THE FIJIAD; OR,
connected by machinery with the works that cause
the semi-revolutions of the board, so that the
august spectator will always be assured of looking
at the right thing at the right time, and it will
ensure his seeing everything provided for his
delectation by our liberality. This ^finished, a
deputation of provincial mayors will appear by
the same agency, each attended by their re
spective clerks. • Fifty mayors to be selected
by ballot, and no speech to be of more than
thirty minutes’ duration.
The entertainment above noted will be deemed
sufficient for one day, and at its close the visitor
will be led to a splendid alfresco pavilion formed
in the centre of one of the Trafalgar Square
fountains, specially drained for the purpose.
Its sides' are draped with home-made Cashmere
shawls, both to give an Arabesque character to
the decoration and also to impress its lordly
occupant with our acquired superiority over the
originals. A company of bands will serenade his
majesty throughout the night, and, with some
tom-toms, gongs, and drums, will “soothe his
savage breast;” and then the momentous cere
mony, which shall make this First of April next
ensuing to be remembered in the annals of history,
will be brought to a close. The next day’s pro
ceedings will be of a more public character, and
will form one of a series of journeys to be taken by
the Caliph round and about the metropolis.
In the morning his majesty will receive a depu
tation of his subjects who have sought the protec
tion of England or asked for sustenance at her
hands. Any political prisoners having escaped
from justice will be delivered up to the mercy of
the Caliph. This pleasing meeting of prince and
people got through, a grand procession will be
organized in the following manner:—
Shoeblack Fife and Drum Band.
Private Band, Herr Slappoffski, Leader.
Deputation from the Hole in the Wall Republican Club.
Clowns from Hengler’s Circus bearing the
following Banners : —
Union Jack.
Royal Standard.
Banner of St. George.
Banner of the City of
London.
Banner of Thomas Brown,
Banner of William Smith,
Esq.
Esq.
Banner of Thomas Jones, Banner of John Robinson,
Esq.
Esq.
Banner of Southey’s Alcahman.
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
Banner of Abdallah Abbaside.
Banner of the Claimant., borne by Little Sandy.
Band of Volunteers of the latest organization.
Band of Rifles of the latest organization.
A genuine Beadle in a Cocked Hat.
Aladdin, Esq., in a carriage drawn by sixteen horses,
accompanied by Ali Baba, Esq., and Sindbad, Esq.
Many Fire-worshippers, four abreast.
The original Old Man of venerable aspect who stood on
the verge of the trackless desert.
.Members of the Charity Organization Society.
The Poor they have relieved. (These will not take up
much room.)
Band from the Boston Musical Festival.
Ballet-dancers bearing the following banners :—
Banner of Tartary.
Persian Standard.
Royal Standard.
Standard of Bagdad.
Union Jack.
Banner of Sindbad, Esq.
Banner of Aladdin, Esq.
Banner of Baba Abdalla,
Banner of Ali Baba,
Esq.
Esq.
Banner of Zidi Nouman, Banner of the Old Man of
the Sea.
Esq.
Band of the “Devil’s Own.” (The original Forty
Thieves.)
Miss Cheeker as Britannia, with a Lion lent for the
occasion from the Zoo.
Members of the International and Liberation SocietiesBand of Itinerant Scotch Pipers.
Jockeys who have Ridden Winners of the Derby from
its commencement.
Staff of Writers from—Punch,
Judy.
Figaro.
The Police News.
The Original Dog Toby.
Squad of Hurdy-gurdy grinders (very rare).
The Crown of Spain.
Amadeus.
Bismarck.
Arnim.
Several German Bands.
The Leicester Square Statue.
Statue of Queen Anne.
The Decorator of St. Paul’s Cathedral.
The Sultaness Scheherazade.
Sixty other Wives of the Caliph.
More German Bands.
Model of the last Caliph.
Members of the St. Pancake’s Vestry.
Organ Grinders.
His Highness Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid,
In a grand State Carriage, drawn by thirty-two winners
of great handicaps this season, led by trainers,
ridden by their owners, and attended
by successful backers.
Escort of Cabinet Ministers armed to the teeth.
It is expected that many other public and
private bodies will take part in this magnificent
display, and the country is being scoured far and
wide for extra musical assistance. Th? principal
point of the first day’s route will be reached at
St. Giles’s, where a number of the inhabitants
will meet to take charge of all con ributions of
dogs that may be lent for display, each lender
being presented with a ticket of admission to the
International Exhibition at the close of the season.
These dogs are all to be connected by their tails,,
with an electric battery, which shall, at a pre
concerted signal, galvanize them all to applaud.
The wire being invisible, the Caliph will be led to
attribute this sensation to his presence.
The lointd'aHui of the third day’s route is
to be found at the New Smithfield Market, where
another grand arch will be erected. This will be
composed entirely of meat and London products,
supplied by the salesmen and chandlers of the
vicinity. Niches will be made at various intervals,
and the top is to be crowned with pedestals, in
and on which will stand various analysts in the
act of shaking hands with each other. If enough
of these cannot be found, several writing experts
have offered their services. From here, the pro
cession will proceed to inspect the Aldersgate
Street Station, and his majesty will call at the
Public Inquiry Branch of the Post Office to make
a humorous complaint, and the clerks are to be
specially instructed to return him a civil answer.
Then in the centre of Cheapside his Majesty will
stop to examine the asphalte paving, when the
Secretary of the London Omnibus Company will
read a statement of the amount of increased
accidents to horses and vehicles since this paving
was laid down, while the Court of Common
Council, in solemn conclave assembled, will
immediately order many more streets to be laid
with asphalte.
The Lord Mayor in person will then read an
address, and present the Freedom of the City to
the Caliph, omitting, for this once, the customary
box, value one hundred guineas, as unworthy the
Caliph’s acceptance. From this eloquent address,
by the kind permission of his lordship, we are
enabled to give an extract. After the minutes of
the meeting that passed the resolutions have been
read, and a somewhat lengthy preamble, the
address continues:—
“ We, who collectively represent the wealth,
wit, and wisdom of the greatest city in the world,
a
�THE FIJIAD; OR,
beg to humbly express to the greatest monarch of
modern or ancient times the gratitude with which
we recognize his condescension in favouring us
with a visit. The progress of the blessed country
under your beneficent sway has long been to us a
matter of interest and fear. The interest deepens
in view of the material improvements in civiliza
tion and refinement we may hope to effect by fol
lowing your most mightily gracious example ; the
fear disappears as we contemplate the hope of
alliance and union with your most puissant
people. We beg to ratify this compact and make
it firmly indissoluble by presenting you with the
freedom of this city, enrolling you one of the
Worshipful Company of Tallow-Chandlers, and
this peaceful bond of intimacy will, we hope, ever
be honoured with your most distinguished con
sideration, and we be enlightened by studying
your precepts and admonitions. This day is one
of the greatest triumph to the city of London,
one of those days to be remembered with feelings
which words cannot express, one to be crowned
with the greenest of laurels in the pages of
history. And if ever your grace should want
some pecuniary assistance, we, your most humble
and obedient servants, will ever be ready and
willing to assist you to the uttermost of our power,
if you in return will sanction the use of your
name to several companies now in course of con
struction. If, in addition, your majesty would
wish to establish these companies in your own
land, for the furtherance of your own interests
and the amusement of your public, we shall be
most happy to send over two or three commis
sioners’, brimful of knowledge, to teach your
financiers the process, and to aid the cultivation
of your people to the proper pitch of investment,
by means of newspaper advertisements and pro
spectuses. Now, great light of the sun, we would
willingly descant further and at greater length on
your virtues and our privileges, but we do violence
to our feelings in order to gratify these assembled
multitudes with a view of your glory and majesty,
knowing that the contemplation of your qualities
by them is the surest means of furthering their
improvement.”
This over, Miss Cheeker will step forward and
claim rights for Persian women, with due humility,
at the hands of the monarch. After inspecting
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
the Monument, Billingsgate, the beefeaters of the
Tower, and Custom .House routine, his majesty
will be escorted by a select body of Government
officials and tenpenny men to his temporary rest
ing place at Aidgate Pump, which has been fitted
up with that costly and récherché magnificence
which has characterized the whole of the prepara
tions.
Of the programmes for other days we will again
speak. With the above sketch of the preliminary
proceedings, space forces ,us to be content ; but
although we have not done justice to the many
offshoots of private enterprise and detailed orna
ments, yet they will meet with their reward in the
appreciation of a populace whose taste has lately
been cultivated, their minds improved, and their
discrimination sharpened. We give to these
entrepreneurs every credit for théir lavish out
lay and ready promptitude, and we hope that all
citizens will manfully step forward with graceful
Venetian masts, masses of festoons, miles of
scarlet cloth, flags so numerous that they shall
darken the light of day and make this beautiful
nurse-mother of our country to be, in the words of
the immortal Madame Rachel, “A thing of beauty
and a joy for ever.”
(Extract from Daily Slasher.')
We have the pleasure of this day presenting
our readers with several passages from the Diary
of the Caliph, procured at great risk and expense,
by a gentleman on whom we can rely, from a
source on which every dependence can be placed.
In placing this incomparable enterprise before
our readers, we have every reason to be glad of
the opportunity afforded us of gratifying those
who have severally helped to afford us the proud
claim to being the most extraordinary paper in
the universe.
‘‘April i, 18—. This day arrive to England.
Of the very much sickness of the sea in passing
over, we still feel much bad. When we got
of Kharing Kross, there should be much peoples,
much smokes, much smells, and a few soldiers.
The soldier-men look not comfortable, very much
so of the neck. I go to sleep very fast, when
peoples swing to and fro on plank, and bring
many things ; which I tell Baba Abdorrah to give
to bum. The thing of my neck much hurt me,
19
and I had to bleed twice of doctors, that my jaw
should not of the key be locked. But I get to
place of rest at last, and sleep very heavy;
although they tell me much beastly bad music .
outside of my tent last night was played. I get
touch of what these doctor-mans call rewmattic,
which hurt much, from a damp place sleeping in.
Baba Abdorrah of my sherbet and copy of Hafiz
have forgotten to bring away from Paris, and
I get cross very much, tell him to go Abou
Buttchorah to get kill. Then some pompos man
not let me—must not kill in this land. ‘ But you
kill many,’ I say. 'Yes, sir, sertainly,’ he reply,
with much smiling, ‘ but we try.’ ‘ Well,’ say I,
‘ I will try too ; Baba Abdorrah, I will try of you
in one half hour, and then you die.’ He (the man
of much smiles) go out for hour-and-half, and ask
no more for Baba.
“April 19, 18—. This day have been to
Madame Twosaw’s, and talk very much to many
strange peoples, but of no answer give they to me.
I pinch hard one woman who should be to sleep,
and her flesh look like houri, but she is not soft,
and go sleep, sleep, sleep, as before the same.
Then I cut off head of one they call Dilk, but no
blood come, and he fall not, so I see these only
enchanted men, like Scheherezade tell of to me.
Then I want to go, but female magician come out
and say, I shall not go, until of my name I sign to
her. So I get frightened and fear, and think of
enchantment, so I sign, and run away fast, very
fast. I see many of these mens and womens in
shops, dress very good, but they all look alike,
and speak not. I say to Gladstones, ‘ Why you
■ not advertise for bigger enchanter to kill this
womans who take so many peoples of you ? ’ But
he say, ‘ I recant noting,’ and refer me to his
published works for opinions he express. Glad
stones is a Vhig, I do not like Vhigs. They take
much monies, and keep. Dizraley is little better,
not much, they of monies spend very much. He
is Tory. I do not like Tories. Yesterday I go to
Cristal Palass. I should go privat quite, but
many peoples know, and come to stare. They
stare very much these peoples, but they are polite
very much. Cristal Palass is of glass made.
Glass grows from ground like trees, and they
train up till it grow very big. When too much
is grown, they cut off, and sell to shops to keep
1
■
j
I
!
�20
THE FIJIAD; OR,
magicians from turning back to live of the lifeless
peoples. When I go to theatres in the evening
many men run to me and take my coat, my
umbrella, my spectacles, my everything, to keep,
for this they charge monies. To ask time is
monies in this country.
“ AJril 22, 18—. This day would not go out.
Gladstones, and many others of whom I speak
not, say I should go out, and peoples expect me.
I swear on the Koran I will kill peoples, if
peoples rule me when I should rule peoples. So I
go not. Albert Edward, nor Alfred did not like of
me to say so, so I go very cross and walk away.
Then I send for box-fighters to show me how
Englishmen qvarel. They say English qvarel not
now, but they show me how once they did fight.
Then some men come with much disfigurement,
and the disfigurement put nose on one side, move
up lips, and make long mark. Their hands are
very large, but I suppose they grow so. Then they
dance, and strike to each other, and when one is
hit he smile, and the other man smile, and every
body like very much. I like too, and give them
sequins. Then I go out to walk, and admire
much pictures on the ground, and him they call
artist—I do not admire.
He look very bad,
stomachs empty. He write all round pictures,
‘I starving,’ 'I am a poor cove trying to get at
living.’ Now, living here means to be mollah,
and must be bought. It takes much money to
make dervish or mollah. So I think artist will
ne-ver get living. Then I go on to Thams
Embankment—very fine work, much work. Very
valuable, many lions to take care. I see some
hooks, and they say, when I ask what for of these
are they used, that they use to get men from
waters when they fall in. It is very crull to hang
poor mens from water on these. If water not kill
him, then they say he that will hang cannot of
the water drown, and then on these hooks they
hang.
l‘A;£ril 27—. English queer peoples. Write
much—many letters. Everybody poor who write, and
beg. This is why so many nusepapirs in England.
I have been to Brighton. Many houris take off
clothes and go into see. Mens stand with pistols
to their eye, that fish shall not de-vour. English
love wife, but uncles and aunts they do not love.
Uncles take of their goods and money, so
English put aunt on stick and fling much at her,
and keeper of aunt give big nuts to him who hit
most. English very queer peoples. I want to go
to my home.”
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
jftisljt’g Entertainment.
JOHNSON,” said Fijitee, “has kindly
procured for our enlightenment a very re
markable estimate by a writer, who, he assures
me, is one of the most eminent men of the age, of
one of the most wonderful of your statesmen.”
“The Prince is right,” said Johnson, “I am
guilty of a little breach of confidence, but you can
keep a secret, I know. The fact is, my old friend
Car-lee asked me to look over this for him, and
correct the style here and there, and I put it into
my pocket, and will read it.”
“ Car-lee,” interposed Omnium, “ is rather dis
posed to be a bore. I could have said a good
deal more about Frederick the Great than he
did.”
O’Quill did not speak out, but he muttered
something which sounded like—
“ Which I wish to remark,
And my language is plain,
That for style that is dark,
And for words that are vain,
That heathen Car-lee is peculiar,
And his meaning there’s none can explain.”
“Subside,” sternly said Johnson, and pro
ceeded to read—
The Hero as Magician ; Bendizzi.
^^iRULY, the very wonderfullest of medicinemen, the most miraculous of hero-magicians!
Have you not heard of the great Bendizzi ? the
miracle-worker, the possessor of the Wonderful
Trap ? As a child he was favoured by the queen
mother Nature, and moulded in heroical fashion ;
for there grew upon his face the very notablest of
noses : not an inanity or theatricality at all, as
Grummy and the sceptics would have it: not a
mask, but a real, sincere, blood-and-gristle nose.
Neither let us disgrace ourselves, as do the
sciolists and dilettanti gatherers of old science
chips, by an attempt to account for it with all
the jargon of natural selection, evolution,
Eastern extraction, Jerusalem-survivals, rudi
mentary appendages. When you have accounted
for it by these, how will you account for them ?
Is it less wonderful that all Jews should have
21
notable noses, than that one Jew should have the
notablest? Yet how will you account for that,
with your logic-mill and your calculating ma
chine ? Will your Babbage explain the existence
of a single cabbage ? If not, how of a hero, a
prophet, a magician ?
Of a surety, too, there is a kernel of truth in
the history they relate of him when a youth, over
laid perchance with a wrapper of fiction, a no
wise despicable yellowback, but at bottom a sound
and altogether believable story. For it is said,
that when poking his nose into a desert place
(and have not all heart-upheavings of heroes
been shrouded in solitude ? witness the Wapping
butcher screening himself behind a tree) he was
met by a weird sybil, who said she had watched
over him from his birth—henceforth he must take
care for himself. For this object she gave him the
Wonderful Trap, the ever-constant attendant of
his magic; in which trap is concealed a spring,
reached by an opening so intricate that it can
only be touched by the nose of Bendizzi himself;
and whenever that spring is touched the trap
makes a noise as of a clapper, and there appears
a genius to help the toucher of the spring, and
the name of that genius is Clap-trap, the most
powerful and familiarest of spirits. To the
thinker, not an insupportably inaccurate version
of fact; rather, there underlies it the very solidest substratum of reality. For worship, faith,
understanding, will—do they not all earmark
the great man, the hero of all times ? Non-essen
tials change, but these are the essentials and
distinguishing characteristics of the eternal Is.
And Worship, what is it ? What else but in
tense admiration ? In the small man, admiration
of the great man, the hero; in the great man, for
that in which he is great—that is to say, in the
man of wisdom, admiration of the highest wis
dom ; in the man of nose, admiration of the
notablest of noses; in Bendizzi, therefore, admi
ration of himself. Surely, the very laudablest,
self-sufficientest form of worship, involving the
sweeping away of a host of non-essentials, the
triumph of Sansculottism, the destruction of all
other isms. And Faith: the great man always
believes; his creed is the sturdiest part of him.
So with the hero-magician; he believes : here is
the cardinal fact to be gathered from that tale of
�THE FIJIAD; OR,
the sibyl; his faith is in Clap-trap ; your Thirtynine Articles are henceforth for ever reduced to
one—the dupeability of man. This is the one
truth at which our great men have been inarticu
lately hammering for centuries; this was at the
bottom of Paganism, Popery, Protestantism,
Rights-of-man-ism, and.what not; and the great,
dumb, striving voice of centuries has burst forth
in the long-forgotten truth of Bendizzi—that man
is dupeable, is befoolable. But how to dupe him ?
Here is no floundering and foundering, but ’as
plain an answer as we, who are no heroes, can
expect from a hero—By the help of Clap-trap.
No easy flower-path this before the man who will
act up to the Bendizzian creed; no limited-mail,
sleeping-car arrangement; nay, much rather a
laborious g<?ose-step practice on a telegraphic
wire, or a Dutch roll along a granite-paved
viaduct. The labour is great. The hero
who would undertake it must dive into the
recesses of men’s minds and make himself
familiar with their strongest prejudices — that
is to say, with the very valuablest part of a
man. For what is a man without passions
and prejudices? No longer a man, but a logic
mill ; and the more passionate and prejudiced
he is, the more of a man and the less of
a logic-mill. Therefore, away with your jargon
of Reason, Sweetness and Light, Charity, Sweet
Reasonableness, as Pouncet-box has it. What
are these but mere modernisms, the corrupt
pseudo-vitality of decayed organisms ? Whereas,
passion and prejudice are the chief of the Im
mensities and the Eternities.
Bendizzi had been thinking upon this, and
being in an uncertain mood, he bethought him to
consult the genius : whereupon, not without some
timid first-misgivings, yet with the trustfulness of
a true hero, he inserted his notable nose into the
Wonderful Trap, and touched the spring. In
stantly there appeared an old man in three hats
(for surely the Invisible always reveals itself to
the Visible in a form most adaptable to the
beholder) who winked and said, “ As steam to
the steam-engine, and life to the organism, so is
prejudice to Society: to eliminate it is to shut
off steam; truly, the very shallowest and shortsightedest anarchy. Rather heat it with the fuel
of passion, compress it into an epigram, and
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
utilize it; but see that your nose be not too near
the safety-valve;” and withal he winked and
disappeared. This, too, may be the popular
pseudo-science that at all times clothes a sub
stratum of reality, just as the unmentionables
envelop the veritable forked-radish that is man.
Rather a considerable meal, this, for Bendizzi to
digest, and ruminate, and chew the cud over:
nevertheless he chewed and digested it, if we
may judge from his actions; for the great man
ever puts his thought into action. For being,
like ' all first missionaries, filled with the soul
stirring spirit of propagandism—which is ever
the first-fruits of clean-sweeping new-besom faith
—and believing indubitably in the dupability of
Man, and being inspired with a knowledge of the
method and secret of duping, he determined to
devote his life-labour to the befooling of men into
heartfelt admiration of his own supremely adored
worship-object, that is to say, the subjectiveobjectivity of himself. Doubtless, little-minded,
narrow-headed men will ever call such activity
mere selfishness, quibble about the ultimate self
ishness of altruistic emotions, and other longwinded phrases. Which of the heroes have they
not sneered at? Why not, then, the hero-magician?
but answer me out of your own dry-as-dust logic
mills—If the centre of a circle coincide with the
focus of an ellipse, is it for that one whit the less
the centre of a circle ? So if an object of worship
coincide with the worshipper, is it less an object
of worship—more especially if he worship mainly
one part, the nose, worshipping mainly with
another part, the cerebellum ? No new thing this,
nothing generically new, this identification of
producer, distributer, consumer; only a return
to Long Acre and Co-operative Stores, in oppo
sition to Regent Streei and cent.-per-cent. A
cardinal dogma this of the Estesian, as well as
of the Bendizzian philosophy. So he became a
world-famed magician; nay, rather hero, pro
phet, king; for who is a king if no.t he ? Not your
stalking-horse for the exhibition of royalty rags,
but rather he the King—Konning—Cunning—
Up-to-Snuff-Man—the Prophet of Clap-trap.
There are heretics and schismatics, it is
true, but he is believed in and obeyed by
all truthful, honest-hearted followers of Clap
trap p yes, and always will be; semper, ubique,
23
ef ab omnibus / being himself indeed semper
idem, and yet ever-variable.
No mere un
scrupulous adventurer this, as Flout-and-gibe
would have us believe (poor Flout-and-gibe!
he used to persist in sitting like a nigger on
the safety-valve when Bendizzi was getting up
steam, and got blown up once, and has not
forgotten it, nor forgiven Bendizzi, who warned
him, for keeping clear of the explosion); and
not a mere lucky lottery-gambler either, as
the critics declare : too easy-going and comfort
able a doctrine for the manufacture of heroes, and
accounting for their own failure in literature and
art too complacently. None of these, but a hard
working, heart-whole Prophet of Clap-trap, never
tiring at his work; an incessant epigram-factory
for the wet-nursing of prejudice, which is the
motive-power of the world; from the Peel-stingers
to the Ritual-crushers ; “ Vivian Grey,” “ Lothair
Green; ” foreign policy, home sewage ; Tory party
and dinner-party; plundering and blundering;
Saxon provinces and Straits of Malacca.
Such is the ceaseless energy of the man whose
capabilities are spiritual; who has learned the
thaumaturgic art of clap-trap. Thaumaturgic, I
name it, for all his miracles have been wrought bv
it, and innumerable will yet be wrought. A very
fire-eater of a man ; always in hot water, but
never scalded : shouting triumphantly from the
very midst of the boiler, “ I see no scars ! ” At one
time the sceptics fling him into a pot of boiling
wrath; but he looks over the * brim and says,
11 The geniuses of the world are Jews,” and jumps
out; and all the sceptics cried, “ Great is Ben
dizzi of the Hebrews!” Then the clergy take
him and fling him in again, thinking utterly
to crush and burn up the mighty heroic hear
of him ; but he skips out whole-skinned, say
ing, “I am on the side of the angels;” and
all the clergy shouted, “ Great is Bendizzi of the
Hebrews ! ” Lastly, the laity thrust him in again,
tying him down with Maskelyne-and-Cooke knots,
but he bursts out with “ A B.ll to put down Ritual
ism !” Then arose a third shout, louder than the
other, “Great is Bendizzi of the Hebrews !” A few
only of his wonder-workings these—but they suf
fice : the hero-worshipper recognizes the many in
the few, the general in the particular, the actuality
in the potentiality. He has imitators, it is true;
�24
THE FIJIAD; OR,
but they are nowhere : there is something of
■worship even in the quackery and knavery of
imitators—let us not too hastily despise it. For
with the adulterant who labels rose-leaves and
gypsum “ tea,” or red-ochre and brickdust
“chocolate,” is there not at bottom a whole
some conviction that tea is better than gypsum
and chocolate than brickdust ? A very whole
some conviction of another sort too, to which
we will not allude. So the hero-magician, also,
has his puny ape-imitator, Mrs. Juppy—a solid,
genuine, altogether-believing but weak-kneed
sort of imitator. He himself has by the mere
power of his clap-trap spirited the most tongue
giving adversary out of Downing Street, and
carried him for hundreds of miles in the air to
deposit him in the desert of Flintshire, trans
forming him, by the way, from a prime minister
into a mere rhymster and pamphleteer, out
stripping at a stroke all the levitation and anti
gravitation and transmigration of Mrs. Juppy and
her crew. Yet these, too, have their worshippers
and popularity ! A great fact this, declaring
that mere animalism and materialism and Tyndalism are nothing and nowhere, that Spiri
tualism only is everywhere and everything—that
naked Reason is a poor decrepit, nondescript
thing when compared with soul-stirring clap-trap.
Truly, to the very inmost heart-beats of tall
classes reaches the magic of his clap-trap; he is
elder brother to them all. To the hand-to-mouth,
dust-begrimed, horny-handed workers he offers the
benediction of the Seven Social Points; no mere
cockatrice-egg, but a sincerely visionary mare’snest, not an outrageously unfit receptacle fora little
hobby-horse. To the brewers he is a very Tetzel
with Indulgences, Free Licenses from the Pur
gatory of Bruce, Exit-passes from the watersoaked inferno of Good Templarism; only no
longer as the old-world Tetzel, bartering these
as a mere underling commission-agent for the
collection of Peter’s-pence; but asking rather in
return a jovial, beer-besotted vote-and-interest
style of payment. To the Hawdemmies he has
offers of infinite sport: poor Flout-and-gibe was
a hard rival at first here, and a tough struggle he
made of it with his Quarterly Ebony Screaming
Farces; an octopus-dog-fish tussle it was : but
poor Flout-and-gibe had finally to knock under
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
and shut up shop, and take a situation under
Bendizzi; for the hero is ever magnani
mous to his defeated rivals. But it is with the
hard-working, jog-trotting 'agriculturists (for
merly yeomen, farmers) that he appears at his
best: a treat for all centuries is the trustfulness
of the Hughenden dinner-party. Like, and yet
unlike, Antaeus, our hero receives strength from
the touch of his stepmother Earth : it is then
that he preaches and prophesies. “ I foresee a
war between Fiji and Hawaii ” (and who else,
if net he, should smell the battle from afar?).
“ I speak to meat-breeding agriculturists—beef
and mutton will be scarce. Cross your short
horns with your south-downs—so will you produce
both.” One full shout breaking the leaden silence,
then a gurgle of innumerable emptying bumpers,
amid volumes of tobacco-smoke, returned
loud acclaim to the new-revealed Triptolemus,
Prometheus, Bendizzi vouchsafing a hitherto
undiscussed lesson of deep-seated, cattle-breed
ing Transcendentalism. A miraculous prophecy,
to be brought to the hard test of experience in
the still distant future of the long-foreseen
battle-field.
Once upon a time I visited the infinitely pin
nacled, myriad-bepannelled temple of the magi
cian. Before the door stands a prancing cavalier,
“ a symbol of immemoriality,” as I was told, but
to me a very lion-hearted looking nigger, and
I wondered why the white-faces should set up
the image of a nigger in their sacred places.
Within was a labyrinth of passages and corri
dors bepainted and, bemosaiced, looking like
the most dazzling of gilt gingerbread stalls ;
and at last was a place, in shape the octagonalest of places, beyond which was a curtain
guarded by plush-bedizened sentinels, and when
men passed in there was a glimpse of silence and
light.
This was the magic chamber of the hero him
self; the very tripod seat of the genius Clap
trap, the irov <ttG> whence the Jerusalem giant
moves the earth, using his nose as a fulcrum.
And I saw the faithfullest of his worshippers,
entering in never-ending procession to listen
and worship, stirred by their reverence for the
Better-than-they. The Better-than-they ! that is
something—it is not much, but it is some
25
thing. There they went, the whole tribe of them,
Broad-acres, Bull-breeders, Bulls and Bears, Bear
greasers, Heavy-swells, Gin-swillers, Beer-barrels,
Dry-as-dusts, Pettifoggers, Tory-constitutionals,
Nigger-kickers, and other celebrities, trooping in
en queue, a veritable Party of All the Virtues !
Beautiful Conservative souls! And even then
the heno had innumerable irons in the fire. Seven
first-rate measures, each first-rater than the others,
which underling handicraftsmen incessantly forge.
Two prominent Bills—not the treble-lined, usury
smelling, paper-rags of pestering discount- refus
ing tradesmen (though these too are not unknown
to the Hebrews), but Bills of another kind his.
Parliament-sanctioned State propositions; Bill to
snuff the clergy! Bill to snub the country!
Marvellous proposition this last, whereto hangs a
history. For not so long since, being in power,
and very inventive and omnipotent-minded, he
played a no-deception Egyptian-Hall trick upon
the world; for, advertising a Fancy Franchise Pano
rama, he collected all men together and suddenly
shot them into the middle of next century.
Very magnanimous philanthropy it was; but
they, small-headed, tongue-hissing geese that
they were, were indignant, and would have nothing
to do with him. Whereupon he let them be, and
now they turn to him again as to a protector and
■paterfamilias.
Below lies the temple of the great wonder-work
ing hero, and I beheld the eternal fitness of
things; for the seats were green, and they that
sat thereon. But beyond sat the self-contem
plating Hero-Magician; his eyes were immovably
fixed on the tip of his notable nose, at the same
time Copernican and Keplerian, the scenter and
the focus of his satellites ; and at his feet the
Wonderful Trap, a broad-brimmed, beaver-covered
pitcher-plant, black as a nigger. Silence is
golden, but the Hero knows when to speak.
Splendid worshipable eloquence ! Like to the
launch of a thunderbolt or a Bessemer steamer.
But suddenly he disappeared! He left the
bench; he went to the bar. He held in one
hand the Wonderful Trap, in the other a lemon
punch tumbler filled with the deliciousest bever
age supplied from the Greenwich nectar cellars
of the great genius Clap-trap, wherewith he
rewardeth his faithful ones.
�i
26
THE FIJIAD ,-j OR,
Oc
jTourtf) jftigfit’s; (Entertainment,
•i> WAS much interested,” said Fijitee, “in
C) that description of your great magician
read last night. I could not understand it, but
it sounded fine. I think it must have been a
work of genius.”
“It was,” said Johnson. “We wished to in
struct you in some matters relating to the political
government of this country. It was the remark,
frequently repeated, of an eminent and aristo
cratic personage, ‘ No fellow can understand
that.’ We have a good deal of faith in this
country; when we cannot understand a writer,
we agree that he is a transcendent genius.”
“ Yours is a great country,” once more uttered
Fijitee. “I suppose you never have any differ
ences of opinion about what is taught by the
good people who send out missionaries to us. Of
course they are all of one way of thinking, and
never quarrel among themselves.”
“Well, you see, not exactly so. The fact is,
they do differ just a little, do slightly pitch into
one another, and have been known to call one
another rather hard names. It is very curious you
should have referred to this subject, for our friend
Mr. Veritas has prepared a story for to-night
which illustrates this very peculiarity.”
Fijitee was highly pleased, and Mr. Veritas (who
said, as a preliminary, that the truth of the story had
been inquired into by a mayor, town council, the
agents of two influential societies, and several
independent inquirers, and that he himself had
personally visited Clapham Junction, but was so
bewildered by the signals that he could not exactly
identify the spot where the fight occurred) proceeded to relate the story of—
i
1
;
I
J
The Pilgrims at Clapham Junction. (
ING hey, sing ho ! sing ho, sing hey !
I had been seeking, day by day,
Until I was well-nigh undone,
East, west, north, south, speeding away,
Photographing each varied trait
Of ecclesiastical London.
Seeking Vox Dei in Poguti vox,
Ortho, unortho, and heterodox ;
B
1
fl
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
When lo, I was suddenly bidden,
By a bell which boomed to summon us all—
High Church, Low Church, and No Church at
all—
To seek the cathedral of St. Paul,
For a sermon by Canon Liddon.
O but it is a solemn sound,
Filling the soul with awe profound,
When out above the city’s din,
The noise of traffic, of pleasure, of sin,
Suddenly on the breeze there swells
The silver chime of the sweet church bells !
So boomed the Cathedral bell; but then
St. Paul’s is a sort of pious Big Ben,
As though the Westminster tocsin
Had turned a Right Reverend Benjamin.
’Twas thus, with sound stentorian,
We all were bidden
To hear Canon Liddon,
With prelude of tones Gregorian,
That is (lest of facts I seem to show beggary),
The service was chanted by Canon Gregory.
The little boys sang most beautifullie,
And the Canon prayed on a tuneful G;
And then for an hour there ran on,
Without lets or pauses,
The ringing clauses
Of the other most eloquent Canon.
Briefly and tersely went he o’er
The varied events of’74;
Touching, first of all, on the Mission :
That had answered fairly enough, he said,
Though they rather regretted to see it spread
To every “ sort and condition.”
The year before it was more select,
The confessional kept it quite “ correct; ”
And—he meant it no aspersion
On his “ evangelical brethren ” dear ;
But, he regretted to say, this year
The Mission approached a little too near
To “ sensible conversion.”
The Brighton Congress was much the same,
Low Church as well as High Church came ;
This, he said, was the “little game ”
Of the Anti-tractarian party.
Still this must be owned, that each divine
Had fought like cats—a certain sign
Of theology vital and hearty.
27
“ But, brethren and sisters ” (for the fair,
Of course, had mustered strongly there),
The preacher said, “ I’ve seen ye
Casting sheeps’ eyes on the Romeward way,
Longing almost from the fold to stray
When that Cook’s Excursion sailed away
To the Pilgrimage of Pontigny.
“ Now, my friends, for a little surprise !
Why shouldn’t Anglicans jWerz’zzzh^ ?
The term, I own, is shoppy.
Let us pilgrimate with unboiled peas,
A mode our ascetical friends to please ; •
But the ‘ Evans,’ who sit at home at ease,
Are certain not to copy.
And so ’twas done ; each woman and man
Cordially approved the plan,
And, opposition scorning,
Resolved, in the style of the Moyen Age,
To start for an Anglican pilgrimage
On an early weekday morning.
In Winchester city there is a shrine'
Of a very-long-since defunct divine
(I doubt if there’s anything within}
To whom picnicers for mercy cry
About the middle of each July,
And travellers ogle with wistful eye—
I mean the famed St. Swithin.
His saintship attention was to engage
From this novel Anglican pilgrimage.
“ They met.” It really was “ in a crowd.”
There were Ritualists in vestments loud,
Copes and dalmatics ; but many more
Simply the regular trousseau wore—A surplice short as a pinafore,
With a cassock like a jzi/pon.
The “ High” came next, in billy-cock hats,
M.B. vests and Roman cravats.
Merrily then there troop on
The very aesthetical Broad Church fold,
Jovial as the “ monks of old,”
You could not call them sloven nor slattern,
Though rigged in rather a mundane pattern.
The art tonsorial quite they scorned,
Mustachios and beard their chins adorned ;
No white ties showed their stations ;
Black bows and all-rounders circled each throat—
One wore, alas ! a shooting-coat,
With coloured “ continuations.”
�28
THE FIJIAD; OR,
There too, although with looks of shame,
One or two Evangelicals came—
One wondered what could bring ’em—
Clad in alpaca, with large white ties,
And stand-up gills of portentous size,
And each armed with a Gamp-like gingham !
Deeming that no one their “move” had a hint on,
Off they all set for the city of Winton.
Little do those critics guess,
Who upon Catholic finesse
Indulge remarks censorious,
That our institution Anglican
Possesses, like the Vatican,
An Index Exfiurgatorius.
But, bless you, if any Corydon Jere
Flirts with a Phyllis, young and fair,
There’s always a Gorgon bevy
Of spinsters ready a scandal to dish up,
And, trotting indignantly off to the bishop,
Beg him to drop down heavy
On him who scorned their charms mature ;
If Corydon smokes a pipe, be sure
That bevy, their noses poking
Into the matter, his lordship invite
To that most carnal curate to write
On the sinfulness of smoking.
These spinsters, of more than middle age,
Very soon “ twigged ” the pilgrimage.
News of the little “ move ” from town
To Fulham Palace straight went down,
Where the Right Reverend John Jackson
Received the same with his strongest Saxon :
“ I wish Miss Blobbs
Would give up these jobs
Of putting me such tracks on.”
He sent a messenger off straight
To Lambeth Palace : “ Take this, and wait.”
The note ran thus : “ Dear A. C. Tait ”
(They drop all titles tufty
Behind the scenes),—“ Look in to-day,
The matter will not brook delay ;
It’s something that will tax our skill.
P.S.—Bring Public Worship Bill.
And, N.B.—Come in mufti."
He came. ’Twas in a hansom cab,
And, after a prolonged confab,
Two highly unprelatic mortals
J
Emerged from those suburban portals.
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
In coats of Ulster frieze
That reached below their reverend knees,
Though each upon his saintly pate
Wore emblems ofprelatic state;
While fingers than Aurora’s rosier
Bore knuckle-dusters in lieu of crosier,
Like (similes to fish up)
No pastors of the human flock,
But rather (London said it) “ Old cock,
You look got up in that Ulster frock,
(How its cut Miss Blobb would shock I)
Half drover, and half bishop ! ”
So then, proceedings they had a hint on ;
J. J. and A. C. T. stumped for Winton.
Now filed the pilgrims past us thick,
One had no time except to tick
Their name, weight, and condition.
There was “ Father Mac” in a gorgeous vest,
Like a Staffordshire miner out in his best,
Looking his very illegal-est;
And the Reverend Richard Temple West,
Who, in his temple, does his best
To assume the “ Eastward position.”
Mr. Stuart, of Munster Square,
Brought a sub-procession of damsels fair.
There was Dr. Evans, from the Strand,
With a big bouquet in either hand ;
The instruments he deems, ’tis plain,
For the conversion of Drury Lane.
Staton, with hyacinthine locks,
Bore a portable confessing-box.
¿■Along with the Reverend George Nugee
F Was the pseudo-Ignatius, O.S.B.
‘There was Dr. Lee for the New Cut showing,
And Lorrimore Square, of course, was Going.
These and several hundreds more
Mystic banners and badges bore,
And incense burnt in censers galore,
Singing dolefully a Litany,
Beginning “ Beate Sancte Swithine /”
While, with Faith to blend some Reason,
Came Mr. Davies, of Lisson Grove ;
And with him Mr. Haweis hove,
Scattering “ Speech in Season.”
And, finally, giving them all his benison,
The plucky Archdeacon George Antony Denison;
While, in rear, with a lot of little boys noisy,
Came the lately clerical Mr. Voysey.
29
They made, ere their route was well begun,
A little detour at Kensington—
Archdeacon Denison’s planning,
“ Since,” said he, “ I’d like to show
Our Romish brethren at the Pro
Something about these things we know.”
And there was Dr. Manning
Biting his very finger-nails ;
And Capel peeping over the rails
Of that most recent seat of knowledge,
The Kensington University College.
They stopped for no conjectures,
But, Parthian-like, Monsignor took
A shy at the lot with the MS. book
Of his Anti-Tractarian Lectures.
Then back to their cloister each hastened to
grope,'
And wired this 11 latest news ” to the Pope.
Meanwhile A. C. T. and J. J.
Beheld, with something like dismay,
The throng of Pilgrims gather.
Says T. to J.,
“ This is, I say,
A sight for a Reverend Father ! ”
J. simply answered, “ Rather.”
‘ ‘ What shall we do ? ”
“ Don’t know—do you ?”
“ In our churches to keep pew-renters ? ”
Says A. C. T.,
“I’ve got an idee. ”
“ What is it ?”
“ Call out the Dissenters !”
It was no sooner said than done—
The Noncons rather liked the fun.
With Sword and Trowel for habergeon,
Issued from Newington Mr. Spurgeon.
Following quickly that exemplar,
Came Dr. Parker, the City Templar;
Shoulderingparapluie for truncheon,
Down there bustled Dr. Punshon.
And now the throngs are humming
In the purlieus of Drury Lane,
And some one—a “ canny Scot,” ’twas plain—
Says, “ Room for me—I’m Cumming.
Meanwhile the pilgrims came swarming down
The great south road that leads from town,
And began what they called a “ solemn function ”
Somewhere near to Clapham Junction.
�THE FIJIAD; OR.
3O
And now, though my theme is cleric,
I hear the rattle
Of coming battle,
And my muse becomes Homeric.
Then out spake Mr. Spurgeon :
“ The pilgrims here I see ;
Now who will stand on my right hand,
And stop their way with me ? ’ ’
Then forth stepped Drs. Punshon
And Parker, saying, “We
Are here to stand on your right hand,
And make the pilgrims flee ! ”
i
And up came Dr. Cumming,
Saying, “ I too will make trial
Upon our friends excessful
To pour of wrath a vial.”
And now, I beg you to N. B.,
Our friends J. J. and A. C. T.
Felt all their troubles ended;
Leaning serenely ’gainst a post,
They leisurely surveyed each host,
Remarking, “ This is splendid ! ”
Then forth stepped George Antonius,
The hero of South Brent,
And in at Mr. Spurgeon
Incontinently went.
But Spurgeon’s Sword and Trowel
Soon did Antonius’ job,
And Mr. S., while smiting,
Said, “ One, sir, for your nob.”
Great Cumming singled Mac out,
And smote him thigh and hips,
Pounding him with a volume
Of the Apocalypse.
At Dr. Parker, Stanton
Flew, with a candle : “ Yield ! ”
He cried; but, lo, his dip was
Stopped with the Christian Shield.
Foiled in his mad endeavour,
He stumbled o’er his truncheon,
And soon was, literally,
“ Sitting under ” Dr. Punshon.
Says A. C. T.
“ This is pleasant to see :
They are smashing these pilgrims undutiful.”
J. J. liked the fun,
And made answer in one
Interjectional adjective, “ Beautiful! ”
Now fiercer waxed the battle ;
And now the fielerins
' (So Mr. Spurgeon termed them)
Went down, just like ninepins '
In-some suburban alley,
Where fast the bowler spins,
And, as he f oors the total,
Serenely laughs and wins.
1
Then out spake Mr. Spurgeon,
With a smile upon his face,
“ Now yield ye, Messrs. Pilgrims,
Now yield ye to our grace !”
Then answered George Antonius,
Who looked like food for worms,
"To yield is not my custom—
However, name your terms.”
I
I
I
When a tragedy Grecian
Was near its completion,
In order to get matters back in a
State satisfactory,
The principal actor, he
Fell in with a Deus ex machina.
All other stage tricks
Having got in a fix,
The author would feel no compunction
In cutting the “ nodus ”—
Such was the modus
Ofierandi at Clapham Junction.
As when some naughty boys at school
Behold the master nod,
And steal away for games of play
Upon the garden sod,
Straight rising up, the Dominie,
Just like that Grecian god,
To stop at once their merriment
Needs only show his rod;
So A. C. T., and eke J. J.,
To stop this little mill,
Threw off their mufti and produced
The Public Worship Bill.
Pilgrims fled in dismay,
Voysey shouted “ Hooray ! ”
|
I
|
•
•
1
•
j.
1
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
Even Noncons stampeded in panic.
“ Name your terms,” once again
Said Antonius. “ Quite plain,”
Said J. J., “ Reformation organic—
No vestments, no masses
(You really are asses
To keep yourselves always’on tenters),
No sub-rosa looks
In Papistical books,
And nothing to frighten pew-renters ;
No flirting in minsters,
Except with old spinsters.
Cotton Voysey, and kiss the Dissenters.”
With a moan and a groan
In a strange minor tone,
As of those who want steward or surgeon,
Did the pilgrims reply.
“ Now accept them, or’I
Shall call back to my aid Mr. Spurgeon.”
Then A. C. T.
Up his proverb took he :
“ From the thraldom of fashion I’ll purge ye.
All vestments are dropped,
Ceremonial stopped,
Even out of the church I intend to adopt
A uniform dress for the clergy.”
Then from those Pilgrim “ Fathers ”
A louder groan arose,
Which summoned round the prelates,
Alike their friends and'foes.
And A. C. T., resolving
His measures stern to urge on,
Said, “Now, Archdeacon'Denison,
Change togs with Mr. Spurgeon.”
J. J. called Dr. Lee up,.
And said, “You must sustain a
Strong counter-irritant for'your
Hierurgia Anglicana.
“ Disrobe yourself at once, sir,
Of vestments so patristic,
And dress a la the President
Of the Conference Methodistic.
—
“And, lively Mr. Stanton,
I’ll give you bitter pills—
Borrow of Dr. Parker
His open vest and gills.”
How touching is obedience !
No virtue, sure, can well pit
Itself ’gainst this. They all obeyed —
Because they couldn’t help it.
Now, as they homeward turn their noses,
What striking change the scene discloses
From when, that morn, they journeyed down
All en route for Winton town !
The pretty flags were given away
For Voysey’s boys to use at play ;
So was Dr. Evans’s bouquet;
And vestments of each shape and size
Were kept for next November’s Guys.
Father Mac, in a Low Church suit,
Paced just like a funeral mute;
And the Reverend Richard Temple West
Walked, with a very fallen crest,
Like an awakened butler dress’d,
Or an undertaker in Sunday best ;
While, serving as a beacon
Of the changes wTith which this world is rife,
Came Mr. Spurgeon, as large as life,
In the guise of an Archdeacon.
Dr. Cumming tried to hide his trotters
Under one of Stanton’s shortest cottas;
Dr. Punshon was quite prelatic—
In fact, he might have passed for Pope—
Clad in an elegant purple cope ;
Dr. Parker wore a dalmatic.
Bearing aloft, serene, intact,
The triumphant Public Worship Act,
Marched each victorious prelate.
Marshalling the streets along
An army like Falstaff’s motley throng,
Giving no rights appellate
Either to potentate or to pope.
“ They’ve taken,” said A. C. T., “ long rope,
And now they’re all suspended.”
Smiling sublimely, marched J. J.,
So pleased he could do no more than say—
And he kept on saying it—“ Splendid ! ”
And so is our story ended.
�THE FIJIAD; OR,
32
JFiWb Bigbt’s Entertainment.
^■HAT was an exciting story about the
-¿7 Pilgrims; I wish I had been there to
see the fight. I rather like fighting,” remarked
Fijitee. “ Are such pilgrimages common in your
country ? ’ ’
“ Not pilgrimages of that kind,” answered
Brown, “ but we have a desperate habit of
making pilgrimages. Our folks go off in troops
to all parts of the world, not because they want
to see anything in particular, but in order that
they may be able to say they have seen it. They
go a thousand miles or more to cut their names
upon anything, and come back smiling, as if
they had done something very grand. If any of
the party actually takes any interest in what he
saw, is really pleased with a mountain, or an old
building, for its own sake, society does not think
much of him, but votes him low, an artist, or
poet, or something of that sort. Bless you, hun
dreds of fellows every year risk breaking their
necks by Alpine climbing, who would much rather
stay at home, only it’s ‘ the right sort of thing,’
and they must do it.”
“ But if any of them do break their necks,
what then ?” asked the prince.
“Well, somebody writes to the newspapers,
saying what folly it is, and some of us press
fellows write leaders about the irrepressible
energy of the British race; and a lot more young
muffs rush off directly, and try to break their
necks. But we are a plucky people, too, and
don’t mind trouble or danger when it comes in
our way. We are not all politicians or parsons ;
we take in hand the affairs of the universe, and
consider it of the greatest importance to know
exactly how far we are from the sun. The Green
wich fellows say they can find out by watching, in
different parts of the earth, one of the stars—they
call it Venus—pass across the sun. They find out
what they want to know by all sorts of scientific
dodges, and something, I think, they call trigono
metry.”
“ What sort of thing is that ? ” asked'Fijitee ;
“ good to eat ? ”
“ Don’t make fun of science. Parties of pil-
j-H".
-v... *1’ .....
grims, we may call them, go to all sorts of
outlandish places at a great expense—by-the-bye,
Fijitee, do you like ices ? ”
“ They are good,” replied the prince.
“Just so, we all like them, especially little
boys, who buy them for a halfpenny. Well, we are
now about to send out a party to the place where
ices grow, and bring home enough to last us ten
years. But, to go back to the astronomers, as
they are called ; they start away with telescopes,
and all that sort of thing, to take notes of Venus.
They make a mess of it sometimes, though, and I
have brought with me to-night the confession, I
may call it, of one of them.”
Then he read—
i
The Wise Men in Pibrsuit of Venus.
^P'HE station assigned to us for the observation
of the Transit of Venus was the Island of
Prettylulu, in the Southern Pacific. I need
not trouble my readers with the details of our
voyage to our pleasant but distant destination.
Quiet Londoners, better accustomed to the still
life of the observatory than to the boisterous
times that sailors know, “ when the stormy winds
do blow, blow, blow,” and voyaging landsmen
wondering why they ever left the safety of the
shore, we yet were educated by sore trials into
ease, and even enjoyment of ourfloating existence.
Never shall I forget the delight with which that
Venus rising from the sea, thé surf-cestused
Prettylulu, rose to our longing eyes. (Before
I go any farther, let me premise—and I do so for
the sake of my scientific reputation—that it was
the planet Venus, about to distinguish itself very
highly in an astronomical sense, that we had
gone all that way to observe, and that I and those
with me hold the preposterous nonsense written
about the classical Venus, or Aphrodite, in profound contempt, except for poetical purposes.)
Bathed in the golden calm of the tropics, the
whole scene lay before our vision—“ a sight to
make an old man young.” Nearer we came, and
were soon sailing through a swarm of canoes
that boarded us on all hands with cargoes of
cocoa-nuts and vegetables, the very greenness of
which was refreshing to our eyes, so long accustomed to the colours of sea and sky only.
1
’
/
1
«
I
ii
,
fl
------------------------- ----- :---------- ~---------------J
~---------- -
i
�ENGLISH NIGHTS ’ ENTERTAINMENTS,
33
Piloting our way cautiously inward, the sharp,
savage edges of the coral reefs on either hand,
traced for us by the foam that broke over them,
another and more curiously uncivilized sight pre
sented itself. Ahead, the quiet sea showed
strange ripples, as though a shoal of large and
sportive fish were flashing its surface into light
with “ the pleasant trouble” of their unresting
play.
What was our surprise, as our vessel lazily
drove into this turmoil, to find its cause. We
were in the midst of the very court of Venus.
We were waylaid, to be boarded at once by sea
nymphs, such as might, well have surrounded the
goddess when she first dazzled sea and heaven
with her beauty at her ocean-birth. Scores of
young girls—the light-brown beauties of the island
worlds of those far-off seas—had swum off to
welcome us, and were now swarming up every
chain and rope that enabled them to gain our
decks. They came from an element that seemed
natural to them, each with her simple girdle of
tappa, their sole ordinary clothing, which had
been carefully borne dry above the waves in their
outward progress to us. Now were scientific
eyes gifted with sights and scenes that sculptors
and painters would have luxuriated in. We
realized before us the childhood of the world ;
those golden ages ere man and woman knew toil
and trouble. Perched upon bowsprit, and head
rail, and taffrail, reclining in boats, beautifying
every recess of our decks, with their dripping,
black tresses half veiling their charms, chat
tering, laughing, drying their glowing forms,
these sea-fairies, all mirth and vivacity, seemed
to our astronomical eyes better fitted for the
rarer air of Mercury than for the dense atmo
sphere of our colder earth. But, then, we were
in the paradise of our world, where the calm
and the golden clime of the elsewhere-lost Eden
linger on for those who voyage into the sunshine
of the equatorial seas.
I cannot dwell upon the transits of Venuses
which each moment passed before our staid astro
nomical eyes, and which we observed with no
small amount of civilized amazement. Suffice
it to say, we were quickly, safely cabined in
the largest palm-roofed huts that could be pressed
upon our occupation by the warm and hospitable
3
�FIJIAD ; OR
welcome of the happy islanders, and Experienced
that blessed sense of freedom from peril and of
easeful existence which the lotos-eaters of Tenny
son did not more enjoy than we did.
In the interval between our arrival and the
great event we had ample time to erect our tem
porary observatory and make every preparation
for securing the scientific results we had voyaged
so far to obtain. But we could not avoid very
quickly perceiving that some strange celestial
influence was at work to defeat our projects.
Was Venus aware of our intention to take her
in charge, and jealous of our spying upon her
actions ? All we knew of her led us to believe
that such was likely to be the case. Homer and
Hesiod—every one at all acquainted with her
moral constitution and unruly proceedings—gave
us to understand beyond a doubt that unless
some disembodied member of the missionary
society, some uncorporeal Stiggins, had strangely
converted her to more sedate habits, her present
existence would not be very unlike to that which
had seemed even somewhat too free to the nottoo-particular occupants of Olympus. Certainly, A
if she wished to distract the thoughts of us sages
from wisdom and its ways, she was amply pro
vided with excellent instruments. We were every
instant, night and day, plagued with pleasant
visitants. We were, for the gravity of our calling,
over-haunted by good spirits. Our staid ears
were never free from the alluring sounds of girlish
whispers and soft, sweet laughter. Our eyes'
could at no time cease to rest upon the crowding,
curious sweetness of shapes that Titian and Etty
would have loved to transfer to their canvases,
in all their warmth of colour and little-veiled
luxuriance of form.
Really it was perplexing. We “unprotected
males” were very St. Anthonies, exposed, like that
unpleasant anchorite, to sore trials. Where were
our protecting spirits ? Where were those guardian
angels that should have been around us to shield
our assailed astronomical innocence ? Even
Mrs. Grundy was half a world away. Society—
civilized society—with its Argus eyes, does not
exist in the tropics. The School for Scandal isnot an institution of the Equator. Verily the| LhT
FC;-...
spirit of mischief lurked in every grove and path kj’B
way of our enchanted island, while its enervating! Lirfj
�ENGLISH NIGHTS ’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
airs lulled all that breathed them into a luxurious
lassitude of that cold, high, moral sense so
natural to the serene existence of Fellows of the
Royal Astronomical Society and of 'all that aspire
to that sacred and blameless brotherhood. We
had left our London abodes of blessedness and of
research little knowing the wiles of her whose
goddesship’s proceedings we were despatched to
keep a sharp look-out upon. Truly she had turned
the tables upon us strangely. We who came to
observe found ourselves the observed of all
observers. Notan instrument could be adjusted
but some laughing eyes and smiling lips, some
chattering tongues, were around us, before us,
over us. How could we arrange our glasses and
photographic apparatus when the sunshine and
the shade, day and twilight, and [even night,
“from morn to dewy eve” and round ’again,
through the half-dusk of the tropic night to the
sudden sunrise, were buzzing with womanish
whispers, and twinkling with the lustrous wicked
ness of laughing, girlish watchings ?
What is a sage to do who cannot sit, or stand,
recline, eat, drink, speak, or ponder, or repose,
but under the distracting observation of woman
hood, of all ages, and generally of a loveliness
impossible to be ignored ? Can a savant draw on
his nightcap in peace, or draw off his—well—
stockings, in the blessedness of astronomical
abstraction, when all these strictly domestic
processes are found to be, in the tropical world,
considered as performances of an open and
a qualifying character specially intended for
the inspection and entertainment of the female
public of Prettylulu ? O tempora, O mores!
O recollections of Belgravia, protect your distant
votaries of science ! O connubial retrospective
memories, hover over our exiled slumbers with
your shielding wings !
I will no longer dwell upon all the temptations
with which Cytherea perplexed our Northern con
templations. Suffice it, they were ever around us
and about us—that ever we were called upon
to eschew these allurements of the primitive
existence into which our thirst for knowledge had
led us to penetrate, and that, through [all, we
reached to the day, the very hour, the predicted
moment when Venus could not escape her des
tined transit, but must yield us our revenge in
35
giving herself up to the undisturbed gaze of our
chosen observer----But before recording the dread result, let me
pause in my narrative to mention who was our
representative star-gazer, to whom was assigned
the great task, the solemn duty of noting the
sublime celestial event, towards the right chro
nicling of which the wisest of mankind of all
tongues and races were directing their fervent
attention.
“No Irishman need apply!” Alas ! no such
disqualifying rule had been laid down in forming
the staff of our expedition. We had been led
into the admission of a young and fervent Hiber
nian, by his rare skill in taking and noting the
most delicate celestial observations. In our
admiration of this special qualification of our
Hibernian brother, we had lost all recollection of
the characteristics of his Celtic nature, and of
how the pulses of green Erin’s sons were ruled,
not by the lunar influences, but by those of the
very planet whose doings he would have to survey.
We had surveyed him only on his bright scien
tific side, and had allowed to sink into oblivion
the dark, weak aspect of his Hibernian impres
sibility. O fatal want of forethought! We had
not been twelve hours ashore—what do I say ?
had we been twelve seconds on land ? had we
even landed ?—before this error in our calculation
was revealed to us, and most palpably visible.
He, a votary of science ! He, a liver in the calm
abstraction of research ! He, with eyes alone for
wisdom ! Alas ! like Icarus, the wings with which
he soared were melted by mundane warmth, and
the sage sank into the merely mortal. The
Prettylulu life seemed at once native to him !
He appeared to the manner born, without initia
tion into its special characteristics. Surely his
Celtic soul had, in some former existence, even
as his Druids held, known and enjoyed the pagan
paradisiacal languors and blisses of a Polynesian
mortality! Alas! remonstrance was tried in
vain. He but laughed at our staid endeavours to
strengthen and tone up his moral resolutions.
He would assure us that just at present, in the
language of his country’s singer—
“His only books were woman’s looks,
And wisdom all they taught him.”
Need I appeal for sympathy to the world of
�<1
36
THE FIJIAD ; OR,
-
science athome ? Can any F.R.A.S., whose pulse
is ex-officio, mathematical, and measured, fail to
echo our strong sentiments of dissent from such
levity in view of the solemn event we had voyaged
so far to be cognizant of ? This was bad. Alas !
what was to come ? Let me hasten to the fearful
conclusion.
The momentous hour arrived.
Our chro
nometers told, beat by beat, the nearing of the
minute which was to fix the observation of this
celestial phenomenon of our century. Our whole
staff were stationed at their posts, Our Hibernian was at his instrument.
Our secretaries
stood by him, pen-in-hand, and nervous with
anxiety to secure exactly the knowledge momently
to be announced. The heavens were unclouded.
Everything was propitious. “Who can say,”
we exclaim with Rasselas, “this day I will be
happy ?” The world was hanging over us, stilling
itself to listen for our news from upper air. How
could we miss the triumph that we seemed already
to grasp securely ? Already we realized a far-off
evening of glory, when to our listening and ap
plauding brotherhood of F.R.A.S.’s we should
read the paper which should give to their Trans
actions our addition to astronomical knowledge.
Beat ! beat ! beat ! another forty seconds, and
our observer would be dealing to us the longlooked-for facts.
Those forty seconds had not passed ere all was
changed. O what a fall was there/ my country
men !
A cocoa-nut grove circled the open space on
which we had erected our unsubstantial but suf
ficient stands for our instruments. From- out of
the sylvan recesses, just at this precise moment,
glided on our astonished vision such a Transit
of Venus as is seldom witnessed by astro
nomers.
Fayaway and the most charming brown belles
of Pretty lulu were before us—in extra full-dress
—each robed in a prized necklace of delicate
pink shells strung upon a thread of tappa. With
the melody of movement that Polynesian litheness
only can display, a pas des deesses flashed upon
us that drew all eyes to the passage past us of its
executants. If the staidest were momentarily sur
prised out of their fidelity to science, guess what
was the effect of this paradisiacal revelation cn
our Celtic observer—on him upon whose abstrac
tion from all terrestrial thoughts our whole hopes
rested ? Could his Hibernian vision- refuse to
enrich itself with that sight so congenial to his
national temperament ? He jumped up, upset his
telescopes, and joined in the dance. Before he
paused, the transit was over !
Our record of the Transit of Venus, as observed
at Prettylulu, is not one that will exactly accord
with any taken at other stations on the surface
of our planet.
''
.
‘I
to
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
CDs
^>ir® Bight’s Entertainment.
^ta^HAT a number of clever men you have
in your country!” was the observation
of the Prince, when the cigars were lighted, and
the toddy mixed. “ Is there any one of them who
is looked upon as fit to answer all kinds of
questions, and settle all sorts of difficulties ? ”
“ You have just hit the right nail on the head,”
said O ’ Quill; “John Brightmann is the party.
He was a great politician once, and he could
speak, he could. Now he is retired from busi
ness, but kindly answers any questions put to him.
The Sunday newspapers used to do that sort of
thing, but I think John has made them shut up
shop in that line. I don’t know whether he
answers questions about cribbage, or the height
of the late Duke of Wellington, but, bless you,
he’s a regular oracle about vaccination, and a lot
of things. I think, Prince, if you wanted to
know anything about the effect of putting an
ad valorem duty on imported periwinkles, or
what are the best sort of pills to take to make
whiskers grow, you couldn’t do better than write
to John. When I was taken prisoner by the
Germans, they often talked to me about John.
He is a man of peace, you know, and won’t fight.
‘ Ah ! ’ said a very intelligent German officer to
me one day, ‘ what a fine thing it would be for
civilization if all your countrymen wrere like John
Brightmann, and wouldn’t fight; we would annex
England.’ ‘Thank you,’ I replied, ‘ I will men
tion the fact when I get home.’ Another German,
who had learned (he said) the English language,
made a poem about John, and as I have a copy
with me, I will read it ,to you.”
“ Thank you,” said everybody, and then was
read—
John Brightmann Catechized.
OHN BRIGHTMANN was a barty
Well known in days of yore,
When in de Gommons Parliament
A gallant part he bore ;
For ’gainst de selfish tyrant strong
He still upheld de weak,
And oh ! but dey all pricked up dere ears
When Brightmann rose to speak.
l
yj
For once on a dime it happent
Dat Justice hid her face,
And dere were some would have starrf’d de poor
In dere greed and dere prite of place ;
Den mit his frent, good Cobden,
John Brightmann he gained renown,
And he helped to raise fair Justice op,
And to pull de corn laws down.
Mein Wort! dey say, who saw him fight,
’Twas a right sharp swort he’d wield,
He was not afraid of halve a tozen dukes,
Six Richmonds in de field ;
•
For he stoot up bold, and he spoke out straight,
And said what he’d got to say—
And I wish our German Hoch-wohl-geboren
Had a liddel of John Brightmann’s way.
But oh ! dere was Hande-ringen
And shaking'of many a head
Among de dukes and de nobel lorts
At de tings John Brightmann said ;
Dey turned op dere eyes in horror
When of landlords’ greed he’d speak,
And dey said, but in politer words,
“ It was like John Brightmann’s cheek.”
For not one boint of merit
Dese lorts in him could find,
Dey sait, de constitution sure
By him was undermined ;
Dat it was verwounded unheilbar,
Unless dey dit strike a plow,
So dey had a great dinner among dere selfs,
And dey voted John Brightmann’low.
And den de jolly farmers
All in dere mightjarose,
And said John Brightmann would ruin dem
Mit new-fangled ways like tose.
But John Brightmann laughed and told dem
Dat he never could make out
Dey should want’prodection, dose jolly men
Who looked so dhick andjstout.
Bot right and justice triomphed,
For justice and right are strong,
And de poor man’s bread no longer
Was leavened by sense of wrong.
And de constitution lif’d still,
And de dukes yet walked Pall Mall,
And de farmers John Brightmann ruined so
Looked rich, and jolly, and well.
�THE FIJIAD; OR,
John Brightmann rose to honour,
As was hot right’and fair,
And came to court, though great folk laughed
To see dat Quaker dere.
■ But Brightmann, de working member,
CY
1
Dey found on the Queen could call,
With all de grace of a well-born duke
Who never did noting at all.
Bot honour is a burden,
Has made many backs to pow,
And fortune’s wheel has tumt and turn!
Fro m an ci ent_day s tilFn o w;
And den comes an explosion
b•
Dat plows men’s power to dust—
Vich’de poet means by “ de storiet urn
And de animadet bust.”
And so it came John Brightmann
Was smit by sickness sore,
And de voice so brafe in council
Was heard, for a time, no more ;
But all were glat when news came
Dat John in de North was out,
Fishing for Lachs and Forellen,
Which, in English, is zalmon and dronk
Now, far down East in London,
Where de ships come from de sea,
We had set up our Pilgrim tent—
My three good friends and me.
And dere we worked and florished,
And led our useful lifes—
For we all was fond of Wapping,
More particularly our wifes.
Dere was Hiram Bunkum, of Boston,
Herr Emmerich Lump—dat’s me—
An Italian, who left his country
For liking tings duty-free.
At our club, at de Pig and Whistle,
We smoked and took our ease,
With Jean Canaille, who dey wanted in France
About burning dose Tuileries.
Now, dere were social questions,
“ Questions brulanies,'" Jean said,
Which we discossed, and we discossed
Till we broke einander de head.
“ Let’s interview John Brightmann,”
Cried Hiram ; I said, “ Ja, ja
“Andiamo,” said our Italian frient;
And Jean Canaille, “ Ca ira."
R;
Ik:
�I
I
1 ■
ENGLISH NIGHTS ’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
■
f When we came to Brightmann’s lodging
I
I thought we must all go back,
T' i For de waiter said if he let us in
He’d get what he called a sack.
M 1 | “ Not for the wealth of Indies,”
Says this conceited donnce ;
, Says I, “I’ll gif you a thaler; ” says he,
J
“Why didn’t you say so at once ? ”
w
I Wit dat he opened de Thure—
We all went in and bowt;
V 1 Up started den John Brightmann
And pulled his eye-glass out..
11
I tells him wat we wanted;
And den he stands and scowls;
And he muttered words I could not catch,
?A
But dey sounded like “ someting owls.”
)CE , Den Hiram darted forward,
)H
)H
A I
|
2 |
|
A 1
|
I I
1
t
1
I
? 1
|
J 1
|
|
1
|
i 1I
i »I |
I
wl 1
? i!
io 2 |
I I1
nA I
I |I
And trod upon my toe—
He always was a forward chap,
Dat’s why I hate him so.
He is der flegehaftest man
I ever come across,
And he make me feel like a donkey
By calling me, “old hoss.”
Says Hiram, “Now then, Mister,
I wants to know of you
About adulderation here,
Whatever we’re to dew ?
I’ve known smart men, in Boston,
Would fix it pretty spry,
But I calculate you’re wuss than us,
And I want to know for why ? ’ ’
“ Shentlemen,” says John Brightmann,
“ Dis subject now, I tink,
Is deeply interesting
To all who eat and drink.
It’s sad we should be poisoned
Whene’er we dine or sup,
And in my blace in Parliament
I mean to take it up.
“ But I say this,” said Brightmann,
“In dis same land of ours
We must not quarrel if we find
Some thorns amid the flowers.
Some slight adulderation
In all is mixed, for sure ;
And even a democracy
I’ve not found always pure.
“ But yet dis one reflection
I’d have you bear away,
So list the worts that I will now
Emphatically say :
De dealer in whose milk-pail
De milk and de vater meet
Cannot be said to have dispenst
De lacteal fluid neat.”
Den Master Hiram Bunkum,
Dat had spoke out so bold,
Mine word ! I almost pitied him,
He looked so dreadful sold.
For what John Brightmann told us
Was all very true, no doubt—
But it was just what we know’d before..
So far as I make out.
But Hiram was so forwards,
Such answers would not suit—
He might have been a Blucher
(De genferal, not de boot).
So he pulled himself together
And try’d to look “ right spry,”
For he said he’d tackle John again,
And have anoder shy.
“ Now maybe,” says he, “ Mister,
You’ll tell us wat you tinks
Of this here new conspiracy
To stop a fellar’s drinks.
I goes to the Crystal Palace,
And what does I see theer ?
Why chaps blowin’ off their blessed heads
A drinking of ginger-beer !
“ And when I asks for a cocktail,
Or just a mild gin-sling,
A brandy-smash, or a tangle-leg,
Or oder innercent ting,
I’m told as I can’t have it,
And it an’t no use to wait—
No ’toxicating drinks to-day,
For it’s Good Templars’ fête.
“ Now is dere any man, sir,
Can ever prove to me
That a man’s liquor should be stopt
In a lant dat’s reckoned free?
What right has they cold-water chaps
To be all others’ model ?
And shouldn’t dey Good Templars
Be made to op and toddle ?”
39
~
(
r
1
Î
f
�4®
THE FIJIAD; OR,
John Brightmann nodded kravely,
As tho he felt de pinch,
And frownt, and looked dat momeiit
A statesman ev’ry inch.
Said he, “ De subject’s weighty,
Look at it how you will;
And we find when subjects takes too much,
Dey’re weightier subjects still.
“ But dis I wish to tell you
Again and yet again,
For if you carry dis away
We have not met in vain—
Ven a man takes too moche tangle-leg,
And staggers from site to site,
His way is not straightforward,
And his walk is not opright.”
I tolt I should have busted
To see dat Hiram’s face,
Fie looked so fairly puzzled
As he slunk back in his place ;
But Master Brightmann’s hombog
One golden fruit it bore,
Troo de subsequent proceedings all
We heard his- voice no more.
Den came my turn for speaking;
I said, “ My honored sare,
I’m of Hohen-zollern Hechingen,
About which was once a stir;
And till the. late most glorious war,
Where we gome out so krand,
We was one of de eight-and-dirty states
Of de German Faderland.
“ Now, if you dake an interest
In how dat strife began,
I’ll tell you from Aufangbis to end
Of de battles we have won ;
And I’ll also sing de “ Wacht am Rhein,"
With some verses new I’ve got—
But John Brightmann said, in a sort of fright,
Dat he thot he’d rader not.
“ Well den,” I said, “ let it bleiben ;
But now I want to know
What you tink of dese new Schoolboards
Dat were formed some time ago ?
Now, don’t you tink dese peepel
Are goming it moche too strong,
Taking up poor folks to fine dem ?—■
Bot you’re sure you won’t have dat song ?”
�ENGLISH NIGHTS * ENTERTAINMENTS.
John Brightmann said, “Mine good frients,
When I resume my seat,
I tink dis is a question
Dat we shall have to meet.
But diaiI’d have you remember,
For ft seems a certain rule—
Better to stand de schoolboard now,
Dgn be bored for want of a school.”
/
Next: came our good Italian,
.Afnd dree deep bows made he—
“ Ihustrissimo Giovanni Brightmanno,
A. batriot here you see,
Foci fought wid Garibaldi—
Per Baccho ! de tyrants did pack;
And we got, oh, de great advantage,
/ And I got two balls in my back.
/
/“ Now, I am a bold Ragazzo,
Who likes to see tings go well,
And ask you, consequentamento,
If dat you will kindly tell,
If to execute men in public,
As we in Italy do,
Is best—or to hang dem private,
As I find is the custom wid you ?”
John Brightmann he paused and bondered,
Says he, “ If I rightly define
The gist of my coot frent’s qvestion,
It’s scarcely a business of mine.
So far as I take de matter,
Dere’s not very much to choose,
For each person we hangs in private
i
Must get in de public noose.”
| We stared and we looked at each other,
I As thus John Brightmann spoke,
1 To hear him jest about hanging,
I As if de ting was a choke.
*
We didn’t seem much wiser
In seeing de right from de wrong,
And John Brightmann, I thought, kept looking
As if we were staying too long.
And now, Jean Canaille, to my wonder,
Right op on de table did go,
And he swong his arms like de mill-sails
When de stormy winds do plow.
He was in de great excitation,
Tho’ none knew de cause wherefore,
And de more we looked and wondered,
He shouted and stamped de more.
He cried dat de (someting) Prussians,
Led on by dere (someting) king,
Had ground his unhappy fiatrie,
And robbed her like anyting ;
Dat de French would have won each battle,
And de Germans been beaten and chid,
If someting had happened dat didn’t come off,
Or someting hadn’t happened dat did.
John Brightmann looked troo his eye-glass,
And he cast at me, I tink,
From de eye dat was disengaget,
De ghost of a quiet wink.
Says he, “ My friend, why pluster
And weep ofer tings gone by ?
My advice is—look to de future day,
And keep your powder dry.”
Den Jean Canaille got furious,
And went on all sorts of ways,
And shouted all kinds of awful worts
Mixed up mit de “ Marseillaise."
Den I saw a look on John Brightmann’s face
Dat I had not seen before—
Den came a rush of waiters,
And we was outside de door.
41
�42
THE FIJIAD; OR,
I
1
^etientD Misfit’s Otertainment
ENTLEMEN,” said Fijitee, “I was so
much interested in the statement, made
at our first night’s meeting, that there had re
cently been an Oriental Congress, at which some
of the individuals mentioned in the ‘Arabian
Nights ’ attended, that I have asked Mr. Robin
son to read a portion of the special report of the
proceedings which he prepared.”
“I have great pleasure in doing so,” said
Robinson, “and I will select the address of Aladdin
—a very smart young fellow, by the way. The Con
gress met for the purpose of promoting good
feeling and mutual understanding. It ended in a
fight, but I need not dwell upon that part of the
proceedings. Sindbad was rather troublesome,
and had to be put out, and the Captain of the
Forty Thieves was something more than suspected
of getting too close to the Chairman’s pocket.
But let that pass.”
The speaker produced from his pocket several
long slips, on which was printed a report of the
speech of
Aladdin at the Omental Congress.
LADDIN then rose to address the meeting,
and was received with great applause,
which lasted for nearly a quarter of an hour. The
ladies in the gallery were especially anxious to
obtain a good view of the speaker, who several times
removed his head-dress and gracefully bowed in
acknowledgment of his reception. When the
president introduced him to the meeting sub
dued remarks of “ Dear fellow !” and “ Where’s
his lamp?” were heard. When silence was
obtained Aladdin, who certainly looked remark
ably well, said—
“It is perhaps necessary to state first in what
manner it happens that I have left the unexampled
prosperity in which I was wrapped up when the
chronicle of my adventures was concluded by
Princess Scheherazade. It is with grief that I
remember and impart to you the painful fact that
the Princess Buddir-al-Buddoo'r gradually gave
way to sinful indulgence in liqu-ors and shrimps.
No amount of good advice and persuasion, in the
shape of personal chastisement, could reduce
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
these propensities, even though I once or twice
transgressed our law by leaving a bruise after a
sound beating. Since I have been in this country
I have learned that kicking is the form of endear
ment practised by civilized nations, and I regret
that in my then semi-barbarous condition I never
thought of adopting the practice. By some me&ns
or other the unfortunate woman heard of the
imposition of the Maine Liquor Law ; and, in a
fit of rage at the probability of its universal ex
tension, with the impossibility of establishing
shebeens in China, she violently destroyed the
lamp, which had been the attendant upon our
fortunes, at a single blow. The shock which
ensued was tremendous, and shook the earth so
that the oldest inhabitant who had escaped the
notice of our Chinese Thoms could not recognize
the neighbourhood. The palace fell into ruins,
crushing my poor wife (alas ! how I loved her 1),
the jewels turned to glass, the gold to brass,
and the silver disappeared entirely. I alone es
caped with life. I afterwards learnt that an
American on commission, from a firm in Bir
mingham, contrived to secure the remains of my
former grandeur; and thus established the ori
ginal Paris diamonds. He made a good per
centage for himself by disposing of a large
quantity of them as relics to a class of people in
England who seek and cherish anything unusual,
such as a piece of a hangman’s rope, a chip from
the column of a dismantled building, cherry
stones sucked by a Prince, or a nail out of the
boot of a statesman, as priceless treasures. I am
given to understand that one adventurous man
has, by heavy bribery, even obtained a chip from
the extreme end of the tail of the lion lately
removed from Northumberland House — that
graceful tail which your scientific men inform me
waggled so punctually at noon.
“ Buddir-al-Buddoor being no more, I hastened
to relieve my distress by travel, and accordingly
landed in this country at Dover.
We were
all greeted with enthusiasm, and as I had re
ceived a number of languages into me by an
especial cramming process, known only to the
Genie of the Ring, I was fully able to understand
all that was said of and about us. I may in
cidentally remark that the process mentioned
would be invaluable to candidates for competitive
43
examinations, and I intend shortly to try whether
this mighty influence can be enjoyed by others
through my agency. Intimating that the terms
must necessarily be high, I shall be glad to receive
the names of candidates ; and I further intend, in
case of success, to patent my invention, to prevent
unprincipled imitations and piracies, or revelations
of exact means of induction, by spiritualistic
mediums. To resume. We noticed many people,
women with babies, men with pipes. I was
greatly struck with the fact that little men
(called boys) each and all seem to aspire to the
dignity and impassive manner bestowed on the
human countenance divine by means of a pipe.
This is in direct imitation of their elders and
fathers ; but the little women do not imitate their
progenitors so quickly. From this we may argue
indubitably, the immeasurable superiority of mind
and manners in males above females ; and the
woman’s rights movement, advocating the
forcible introduction of learning and sense into
the brains of women, is a measure, in my opinion,
well worthy of support. I wish I had understood
the method in the time of my poor dear Princess.
“After our ears had been dinned by uproarious
shouting, which we were told was an English
enthusiastic welcome, but which impressed us at
first with vivid fears for our safety, especially as
we saw ornamented posts (used commonly for
lights, but placed at such convenient distances
that a man can be hung by the neck without
needless delay) at alarmingly close intervals—
after we had gone through this, and the inspection
of a lot of men dressed in curious robes, with fur
linings, we proceeded to the station. These men,
I may pause again to remark, are obliged to give
out a speech every time they appear in public, but
as it is written exactly according to an ancient
copy kept in the archives of each town, there
is no labour of preparation, either mental or phy
sical. I heard with interest that these dignified
officials are annually changed, and the old ones
publicly burnt, with great popular rejoicings, on
each succeeding fifth day of the month called
November.
“At this station we were immediately sur
rounded by a mob of people, all dressed alike—
and dressed with a very greasy finish. These
are called porters, and obtained their name
�44
THE FIJIAD; OR,
through one of their number once falling into a
vat of liquid known by the same title, and there
meeting his Kismet, and immediate transporta
tion to paradise. This vat of liquor was very
successful—all liquors of this kind are very suc
cessful in this country, but this was particularly
so—and as numbers of these men are annually
destroyed, or missed without any knowledge being
generally obtained of their death—-only a very
small number of accidents being reported to the
Government—there is reason to believe that their
bodies are still frequently used to give substance
and relish to the black, frothy fluid. I heard with
interest that inquiries have been made by one
of the great men of the country as to what
becomes of these men; but as he is a maker of
' a rival and very popular fluid known as jzWraZi,
perhaps he is jealous of the great demand for the
porter-beer. More than once, however, I have
heard this porter mentioned with commendation
as having a ‘ body’ in it, which tends to confirm
the popular belief. The indifference which is
shown to their fate is entirely owing to their own
conduct. Violently beating their foreheads with
one finger of their hands, thereby signifying that
this one finger is placed at your service and the
others are open to take any gratuity which the
passenger is expected (in direct violation of the
laws and provisions in that case made and pro
vided) to bestow without question—these men
rush vigorously to attack anything bearing the
shape of a parcel, and, having seized it, they im
mediately carry it away. Ali Ahtan, Agibah,
and Abou Anbarrah (my attendants) were kept
constantly running about in various directions to
check this forcible appropriation of my property,
and I myself was in great alarm. But when I
told these barbarous men that I was travelling
‘ third class’ they at once desisted, as by a spell,
and I concluded this was the pass-word of their
rulers, instituted to keep them in some semblance
of subjection and obedience.
“ But I found the talisman only operated suc
cessfully at the commencement of a journey, as,
when we arrived at our destination, these men
pursued the same course, and were incited thereto
by a number of men sitting or standing on or by
some square boxes on wheels, to which shadowy
horses were attached; this conspiracy being
plainly seen by the similarity of the finger move
ment in each case. These men, I afterwards
found, belonged to a very influential body of
persons working under an association styled
‘The Tip and Universal Personal Benefit Asso
ciation,’ to which nearly all the working people
subscribe allegiance, and are accordingly allowed
to use the sign of the order. Any of the present
company wishing to test my accuracy can do so
by going into the street and offering to ‘ stand a
pint ’ to the first man of poor garments he may
meet, and the use of this mysterious phrase will
immediately bring this sign of subjection to the
association into use. The horses appertaining to
these movable boxes are descended from a miser
able race of animals called the Houyhnhnms, who
took upon themselves the privilege of swearing like
human beings, and were forthwith condemned, for
their presumption, to leanness and ignoble servi
tude for the rest of their existence. These
punishments were best found to be inflicted by
those men whom the English call cabmen ; and to
such a degree has this unjustifiable assumption of
rights and privileges excited the indignation of all
people, that the combinations of wheels and boxes
are always styled, in conformity with a special
edict, by the term of ‘growlers.’ The conduct of
these porter-members of T. U. B. Association be
came so outrageous that I was forcibly re
minded of the advice of a distinguished Polish
count I had had the great satisfaction of meeting
abroad.
With the laughing manner so emi
nently characteristic of the boundless good
humour with which he borrowed anything port
able and convenient for a pocket, he said,
‘ Bon ami, venever you into trouble in England
do get, call “ Poliss ! Poliss ! ” at your voice
the very top. These mens are the—vat you call
it in this dam langvage?—ah ! geniuses of truth,
sobriety and virtue. You may ver often want of
these men assistance. I tink most likely so. I
never did. But many of these men you will see
on—on—on pedestals all round London, and
come they will when you call.’ So saying, he
borrowed a small gold-handled dagger for a short
time, and departed. Remembering the advice,
though my good friend the Count forgot to return
my dagger, I called very loudly, ‘Poliss ! Poliss !
But there was no voice that answered. Then I
�ENGLISH NIGHTS ’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
made Ali Ahtan, Agibah, and Abou Anbarrah
join me in my cries for assistance, but we were
nearly all out of breath with our struggles, and
then at the very last minute I luckily bethought
me—the ring, my magic ring. I rubbed it directly.
The genie appeared, and said, ‘ What wouldst
thou have? I am ready to obey thee. I serve
him who possesses the ring on thy finger ; I, and
the other slaves of that ring.’ I said, ‘ Fetch me
one, two, or more policemen.’ He gave a terrific
roar, which displaced more windows than any
playful gunpowder explosion that had been got
up for a grateful country’s amusement by the
Regent’s Canal or any other company, and, with
a frightful voice, he said, ‘ Is it not enough that I
and the other slaves of the ring have done every
thing for you, but you, by an unheard-of ingra
titude, must command me to bring my masters—
the grandsons of Scotland Yard, the princes of
information received, to wrangle with a lot of cab
drivers ? Another such insult, and you will be
destroyed. Learn now that all policemen are
otherwise engaged, and their calling and occu
pation is of too high a nature to be interfered with.’
So saying, he disappeared. The porter-men and
all had fled, and we sat on the luggage for secu
rity, while Abou Anbarrah put two cabmen to
death and seized the growlers for our use.
“ As these exertions tired us greatly, and as it
further rained for several days in succession, we
determined to wait till a fine day came before we
prosecuted our inquiries into the amusements of
the people. Certainly we might have waited long,
had not Ali Ahtan found out a place of amuse
ment for us. This was called a music-hall, but
was more like a smoking and drinking saloon, as
smoking, drinking, and swearing seemed to fully
occupy the time of nearly all there? There was
much singing, little music. Many men went in
and out on a platform, and sometimes gorgeous
houris, with long clothes to sweep up the dirt,
or no clofhes to avoid the dust, came out to sing
and dance ; and as they came on and disappeared
a low, rumbling, thunderish sound was heard. One
gentleman kindly informed me that these ladies
in short dress at one time wore very long clothes,
like the others, to preserve fresh in their minds
the traditions of their infancy. This gentleman
indulged in a strange kind of conversation, using
1
45
words which had a certain similarity of sound,
but no connexion of meaning, and every time he
did so, he poked a stiff thumb into my ribs and
laughed. Another very obliging gentleman told me
that this movement with the thumb was peculiar to
people called punsters, who were ultimately re
moved to palacesprovided fortheir accommodation,
called Bedlam and Colney Hatch, where straws
were provided wherewith they might tickle each
other. ‘ Strawdinary notion, isn’t it?’ said he,
with a similar thumb-poke, and I could not but
assent. He went on to tell me that the most
outrageous and violent of this class were employed
to write burlesques for theatres, that their time
might be so occupied as to render the disease
less infectious, as it frequently proved fatal, and
a few years ago had, during an epidemic, swelled
the bills of mortality to a ¿z'Ziary degree. My
sides being sore, I moved away, and, having seen
enough for the present of the amusements of the
people, resolved to devote myself seriously to the
inquiry how so many people in this country con. trived to grow so amazingly rich, and whether I
could obtain a substitute for the Wonderful Lamp
I once possessed.
“ A gentleman, whose acquaintance I afterwards
made, I found to be full of information. Much of
his conversation I was unable to understand, well
versed as I am in this language. But he told me
that in England there is a kind of undercurrent
language, much usedby distinguished individuals,
and changed, from time to time, to prevent its
acquisition by the unhonoured many, and its
exclusive use by the glorious few. This is called
slang, and to the uninitiated hearer sounds very
strange. A ‘ quid ’ may mean either a dirty piece
of tobacco taken from between the masticators
of a sailor, or it may mean a sovereign—a valu
able piece of money, generally scarcest with
those who are most fond of boasting of its pos
session. Bulls and bears, I thought, were animals
only to be found at those gardens, called the
‘ Zoo,’ where the more enlightened Britons
wend their way on Sabbath afternoons, under the
guidance of great teachers, to meditate upon
their origin ; but I found them to mean, more
commonly, men -who are worse than their name
sakes, and who should change places with them
—men whose only claim for lenient treatment
�46
THE FIJIAD ; OR,
rests in their having instituted two of England’s
most glorious times and prosperous anniversaries,
the South Sea Bubble collapse, and Black Friday.
Monkeys and ponies, again, represent in this lan
guage two coins of value made in times gone
by, of the shape of those animals, but which
have since been abolished on account of their
unwieldy shape and size, through the strenuous
exertions of Colonel Bowline, a gentleman hold
ing the distinguished position of superviser of
coinage. But I have not time to mention all the
vagaries of this strange language, which takes a
lifetime to acquire, and two to get rid of.
“ My friend says he is a French marquis of the
ancient régime (his clothes substantiating his
antiquity) and has been deprived of his heritage
by successive popular convulsions in his country,
but has not lost his honour, shrewdness, and
integrity. These valuable gifts he brought over
to England to dispose of at the highest market
value, and found ready purchasers. He is very
valuable to newly-established companies, of
plausible prospectuses and mighty pretensions ;
his honour, his title, his shrewdness, his services,
and his wrell-known integrity, obtaining the 1 con
sideration ’ they merit. First, purchasers of
shares pay no money, receive no benefit, sign
mysterious transfers to blank individuals, and the
company is established, quoted at a premium,,
and dead within a year. ‘ If a newspaper-con
tributor is met who may be inimical to you,
threaten to cremate him, tell him there will
shortly be a funeral at his residence and you
will provide the body, be summoned, and let
everybody talk, open-mouthed, of the great
fiasco in the commercial world. Notoriety, mon
enfant, at any price, is cheap,’ said my friend,
‘ and two or three libel suits firmly establish any
periodical in this land. Libel suits to a news
paper are what bankruptcies are to a trades
man.’
Of this good advice I drank deeply.
The lamp—the mighty lamp of eighty-magician
power—is out of court, in the shade, with the
powers of these latter days. I meditate and
grieve on the days gone by, when my word was
law, and obeyed implicitly, and I grieve till I get
angry ; and then I go out and start a company.
The Golden Haze District Company, for produ
cing colours from prisms for the purpose of
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
imparting better dyes to English fabrics, and
beating foreign competition out of the market;
the Hispaniola Company, for unearthing moun
tains of doubloons and hundredweights of silver
buried two centuries ago, nobody knows where.
These will be sure to draw, the share-list will be
full, all memories of past misfortunes and un
happy failures obliterated, yourself enriched,
and the public generally be taught a use
ful lesson—worth far more than the money
invested, even though the unenlightened bar
barians <¿¡7 grumble — not to run after io or 15
per cent, in future.
“Very little time more have I to speak; but the
last of my utterances shall tell the queer properties
of the English., They are peculiarly brave, have at
their backs a long array of glorious successes,
more brilliant than those of Mahommed or
Caled, yet they kick and beat their wives to
47
death ; they have unlimited wealth, hoarded up
from centuries of successful commerce, and
thousands of beggared, starving poor ; they are
bountifully charitable and liberal in distress, yet
indiscriminate and unwise in their expenditure;
they have Liberal statesmen who are parsimo
nious, and economy-professing Tories who spend
freely; they have many religions professing all
peace, holy brotherhood, and Christian charity,
who fight between each other like the cats the
infidels name of Kilkenny; they—but my breath
fails to tell all their inconsistencies. I would not
tell them to aught but these here assembled, O
children of the faithful! and ye must not speak
aloud nor abroad, for these English are very hard.
When they are roused they speak hard, hit hard,
and die hard. But may Allah help the English
when they lose their money, and let wise men
stand clear ! ”
1
*
�4«
THE FIJIAD; OR,
Eigfttb
Entertainment.
R. OMNIUM was the story-teller of the
evening. “Having,” he said, “been
favoured with your selection, I will,- with your
permission, relate a legend relating to one of
the great institutions of this country, dear to the
fairer and more interesting half of the inhabi
tants of Britain. Ninon de l’Enclos, you will, no
doubt, remember, my dear Fijitee, was a lady
who preserved her beauty to a great age, and
her agonized remark, when she was about a
hundred and five years old, ‘ How shall I retain
my attractions, now that I have lost my back
hair ? ’ was answered by the chatty court barber
(all barbers have been chatty since the time when,
on the Chaldean plains, the Assyrians had their
flowing locks trimmed, and sat for their portraits
in stone, to be preserved expressly for Mr. Layard
and the special commissioner of the most enter
prising journal of the age to discover), ‘Wear
a chignon.’ She took the advice, and the next
morning received two hundred billet-dotix, scented
with fiarfum d'Amaryllis, and as many bouquets
as Adelina Patti receives after a performance at St.
Petersburg. I have met with the chignon in
Mexico, in Russia, in the Chateaux d'Esfiagne, in
Rome, Vienna, and St. Petersburg, and on the
Grand Canal at Venice. I have written one
hundred and fifty yards (and won easily) of
leaders about the chignon, and no end of articles
in comic publications on the same subject, and I
think I ought to know something about it. I *
have observed with pleasure that you, my dear
Fijitee, wear your hair in chignon fashion, and
therefore I have presumed to introduce you into
the introduction to the legend, and out of respect
for you I have abstained (with considerable diffi
culty I admit), from introducing besides, any
allusions to the Phoenicians, Peter the Wi’ld Boy,.
Mirabeau, the great wall of China, Russian
droschkies, T. P. Cooke, the Unter das Linden ■
at Berlin, and many other inviting subjects. If
you will favour me with your attention, and
Johnson will leave off cracking nuts, I will read
the legend, which, I may say, is rather a free
version of a wild lay by Herr Dresser.”
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
They were all silent, especially McSnuff, who
went to sleep, and Omnium, previously refreshing
himself, read
The. Legend of Saint
Chignon.
^"Av^HEN London sights had all been done,
r-o1 And nought remained to see,
Some -one proposed a country trip
For Monsieur from Fiji.
A chosen spot where sunny gleams
Across the path might meet ;
A spot where, couched on velvet moss,
The passing trav’ller finds it poss.
To ease his weary feet.
But as they journey through the wood
This paradise to reach,
A gruesome sight assails them—which
Ties up our Fiji’s speech !
Shed on that very day—
Right in their footsteps’ way—
A bright red chignon lay !
Crumpled and coarse !
Nothing of human hair
Surely could enter there,
Nought but what would compare
With hair of horse !
Yet—take it up gingerly,
Lift it with care,
Some one will twinge-fully
Miss her back hair !
“ Now, stranger, as our bard ‘ great Williams ’
said in former years,
Might I ask you for the loan of those appen
dages—your ears ?
This waif and stray which we have found,
Soaked in the pool upon this ground,
Is doubtless offering, weird and wan,
To holy maiden, Saint Chignon.”
The Fiji paused, and shook his head, and drew a
bated breath
(Though what the bait contained in it this witness
ne’er sayeth),
And, after custom of his race,
Exclaimed, “ Expound me in this place
The riddle which you thus run on
Of holy maiden, Saint Chignon.”
49
“Ah, well-a-day!’’ (commencement an, régle
the year one),
Replied his guide, “ attend to me, my interesting
son.
In Middle Ages dreary, when our dates were
all askew,
And Civil Service Exams didn’t put one in a
stew,
There lived a brave knight, one Sir Robert
Cheevoo,
Who was fond of hard knocks for his lady-love
true.
Now, the knight (like the donkey which, legends
all say,
Was perplexed in his mind ’twixt two bundles of
hay)
Had two loves, one the beauteous Lady Chignon,
The other, her rival, la Duchesse de Nignon.
But at length, in despair
That he couldn’t declare
To both of the fair, *•
A thought struck him—their hair!
Whichever could boast
Of the longest and most—
No, not boast, ladies never do that—say, could
prove,
The largest possessor—should have all his love I
The duchess was a bold brunette
With eyes of violet hue,
The lady quite a chansonette,
So fair, with eyes so blue.
The former smole a meaning smile
To hear that last decree ;
4 Gadzooks !’ she cried, ‘then I’ve struck ile,
Sir Robert’s booked to me !’
For oh ! she was a haughty dame,
Who never counted cost;
And well she played the little game
By which her rival lost.
Their village boasted only one
Of those great artistes who
Are authorized to undertake
4 La confié des cheveux.’
And he, vain man, in hopes to please
The folks of high degree,
Had fitted up a machine which
4 Brushed by machinery.’
Now Lady Chignon little knew,
When she insisted on
4
�5°
THE FIJIAD; OR,
Its application, she would rue
Her fearless abandon.
For what with ignorance most dire,
Far worse than Nignon’s gold,
When Lady C. rushed up in ire
And ‘ scudded all bare-polled,’
She left upon that base machine
The whole of her back hair!
Alas ! with that she lost her love—
For lo ! her head was bare !
The tidings flew fast, and Sir Robert Chevoo,
Being now quite convinced that the right thing to
do
Was to marry the lady whose wealth of dark
tresses
Entitled her only to claim his caresses,
At once put up banns, and was married soon
arter,
Making one love his bride, and the other a
martyr.
Away to the depths of the forest serene
Lady C. plunged at once, seeking not to be
seen;
Life she valued no more since that shocking mis
fortune,
The loss of her lover, her hair, and his fortune.
She bewailed her hard fate in tones duly dis
tressing,
And called on the gods to bestow but one bless
ing—
That forth from that glade she might never more
come ;
But the heathen mythology all remained dumb.
At length one kind spirit, aroused by her ’plaint, I
Coyly touching the earth, without any restraint
(Most appropriate of all who could answer her
prayer),
Tricksy (H)Ariel, in person, vouchsafed herself 1
there,
And in tones which aroused, while they soothed i
her sad pain,
She called on the maiden, again and again.
‘ Why weeps Lady Chignon, so sore and dis
tressed,
Of all earth’s bright maidens just now the most
blest ?
Why grieve for the loss of that treasure so fair
Which, e’en if a heir-loom, was only your]I
hair ?
2ff
11
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
See ! I bring you a gift which at once moves the
ban,
And makes you—as always—the master of man.’
At the feet of the maiden,
In neatest of boxes,
There immediately fell
A profusion of locks-es.
‘Fit them on,’ cried the spirit, ‘and learn that
this prize
Makes you once more attractive to haughty men’s
eyes;
And more, to arrest all attempts at base laughter,
U»
I pronounce you Saint Chignon, both here and
I
hereafter.’
’’ll
So thus you will see,
My dear friend from Fiji,
How the Saint was created ;
And in ev’ry degree
She was worshipped with glee
By the great empty-pated.
No matter how poor, or how mal-a-fro-pos,
Whether countess or milkmaid, each went in for
tow,
First in humble instalments—but, mark you—anon
T
To the size of red cabbages grew that chignon !
Huge fortunes were netted by men who went
ii
round
Buying hair from the living, the dying, the
drowned!
No source was too humble, no object too vile,
NJ- Whether fed by ‘ Macassar ’ or ‘ ha’porths of ile.’
W When it came to the market ’twas eagerly
bought,
ijiA And where it had come from fair buyers cared
nought.
Exposed in all shapes, and in every mode—Now hanging like candles, now flowered, now
bowed—
The sight was too much for the daughters of
Eve:
Please don’t say ’cause their talent is great to
deceive !
Ah ! ’twas easy to show the enormous furore
Which followed the gift on Saint Chignon
bestowed,
iffbl [ How quickly each female subscribed to the code.
SiJ
I The stout British father, with daughters uncaught,
I Whose dream has for years be&n the Bankruptcy
*
I
Court,
51
Might once more be seen by his butcher and
baker,
Be not turned, by each ring, to a spurious Quaker.
And those daughters, whom just now are styled
the uncaught,
Full of elegance simple—by mother -well-taught—
Would go off with a rush ; whilst that pestilent
fear
Of embarking with two or three hundred a year,
Which makes even the most‘hard-hit’ bachelors
pause,
Would be scouted completely and turned out of
doors.
For supposing that sealskins, and sables, and
furs
(When the glass is at zero and slight frost occurs)
Will all have to be bought—and for summer use,
too,
There’ll be costumes of muslin and' serges of
blue,
With small ‘ ducks of bonnets ’ and Gains
borough hats,
Just jauntily pitched on the top of false plaits ;
Then the boots—oh, those horrors!—with pedestal
heel,
Over which English maidens now totter and reel,
Like a cat on hot bricks, or a cab-horse with
staggers,
Or a suff’rer from corns when each step strikes
like daggers,
And which surely will end in pain, sorrow, and
woe,
From disease in the ankle and ¿z?z<;7z_ylosed toe ;
Not to mention small matters like gloves, dye
and paint—
The latter now used without shame or restraint;
Then those bachelors willing and ready to mate,
On three hundred pounds—pause, reflect, and just
wait!
Now, if some mighty Queens,
Longing to prove the means
By which their sex might rise
In all wise people’s eyes,
Would only give command,
Under the royal hand,
For the complete repeal—
As regards head and heel—•
Of the redundancy,
Managed so clumsily—
4—2
I
k
�5?
THE FIJIAD; OR,
There were a blessing !
Confessing
That dressing
Should eke run with sense !
Showing th’ excess in
The tressing,
Addressing
E’en brains the most dense !
Or better, if some Royal dame,
Nobly anxious for the fame
Which great achievements bring,
Would take to clothes all neat, all plain,
Extravagance should fly amain
And moderation once more reign
Around in ev’rything.
That mass of back hair
Which you found lying there
Is a pretty good proof of what Fashion can do ;
Fancy, placing a wen,
To attract thoughtless men,
At the back of the head, like a wild Cariboo !
Where the fashion first came from,
Sure nobody guesses ;
Our grandmothers’ method
Of sorting their tresses
Was far more becoming,
With curls or with plaits,
Which were neatly arranged
’Neath their plain Leghorn hats.
First the chignon was small,
And, not seeing much harm,
Pater Fam. gave a grunt,
But did not take alarm.
Then the edifice rose !
Each day kept on adding
Some handfuls of tow,
To eke out the padding.
Till fully developed
It burst on our sight
In proportions which made
E’en the boldest turn white.
Illustration apt as one would wish to find,
How oft’n bad begins, and worse remains be
hind!
Not that it always remains, as you see,
But travels the country both sportive and free ;
A fact duly told by a dramatist rare
In his drama entitled ‘ The Wandering Hair.’
Then, although by the aid of the barber’s great
skill
You may buy locks of red, black, or grey at your
will,
Fashion, lately electing to have something mellow,
The girls of Great Britain all came out in yellow !
No matter how started,
Upon it all darted—
Those ■were broken-hearted
Who could not obtain
A supply of that ‘ eau ’
Which, at almost one go,
Made a wonderful show
By its bright yellow stain !
There were tresses of yellow, canary, and gold,
Which were brought by the young, the mature,
and the old;
In the park, at the theatre, or swell fancy fair,
One saw’ nothing but women with bright golden
hair.
How many are living who now must deplore
The loss of their real hair they’ll never see more !
For the dyes and the pigments so rashly rubbed in
Will at some time be certain to injure the skin;
And the credulous victim, of Fashion the thrall,
May find her head bare as a round billiard-ball! ”
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
joints
Otertafament
suppose,” said Fijitee, “ the great writers of
neighbouring countries are much impressed
with the wisdom of your statesmen and the
intelligence of your people.”
“Very much so,” said Brownson, “they show
a wonderful appreciation of our institutions.
Indeed, we do not know how really great we a re
until we read what foreign authors write about us.
A Frenchman will come over here, stay a week in
Soho, then go back, and, bless your heart, will
write a book about our manners and customs that
makes us stare when we read it. We expect great
things from your special letters, Fijitee, but you’ll
be small pumpkins to the intelligent foreigner s
we have been accustomed to. Now, for instanc e,
here is—I got the paper only this morning—
an article by a very great Frenchman indeed,
M. Quicker Yougo.”
“ Oh, do read it! ” said Fijitee, and accordingly,
Mr. Johnson read—
Exit Achille.
CHILLEwas a dreamer. He was also longwinded. He was long-winded even in his
dreams. Hence - his failure.
Hence also his
success. He had ideas on many subjects pecu
liarly his own.
There are two worlds; the Known and the
Unknown. There are also two aspects of each
world ; the Possible and the Impossible. Duality
is everywhere. Enigma! Who can solve it?
Not we. Let us wait. It belongs to the Unknown.
In our daily life, we do homage to the Possi
ble and the Known. Poetry deals with the
Impossible phase of the Known. Dreams are
governed by the possible aspect of the Unknown.
Philosophy dives into the Impossible and the
Unknown. We have said that Achille was a
dreamer. To say so is to say that there was
revealed to him the Possible but the Unknown.
Let us consider.
In, this way he had seen many strange things,
not only at home but abroad. The Possible is
wide; the Unknown is wider.
In Hogford he had seen a constituency com
53
posed entirely of a pig-headed race of men
dressed in black petticoats. Yet they had neith er
the obstructiveness of a pig, nor the pettiness of a
petticoat-wearer. They were in the habit of
electing as their representative a Liberal Prime
Minister. They asked no pledges. They gave
him carte-blanche. These men are the Rurals ;
they were not always so. The world moves; it
advances. We advance with it. So do the
Rurals.
In South Carolina he had seen happy families.
Planters shook hands with niggers. Niggers
embraced w’hips. Whips curled lovingly round
revolvers. Revolvers laughingly tickled planters
and niggers. These happy families together had
made an army ; not only an army, but a nation ;
unseen by others, revealed to him.
In Womanchester he had attended a meeting.
Two societies met. The Deliveration Society
and the Women’s Scuffleage Society.
The meeting was choral. Song is divine; so are
duets. Mr. Half Mile and Miss Pecker sang a
duet; it was divine. Pindaric rather than
Homeric. Achille preferred Homer, but he '
listened. They sang, “ A dissenter, a woman, a
walnut-tree : The more you beat them, the better
they be.” Resurrection of Apollo and Sappho.
Near Ashantee he had seen a dromedary, of an
age beyond the memory of man. It walked upon
the waters. A thing of life ! It carried troops,
guns, provisions. Did it'sink? Not at all. Yet
it could not carry a post-boy. It was condemned,
yet it' lived. Nothing could destroy it ; it de
stroyed others. Among them Achille had a
narrow escape. Mystery !
In the A-enian Islands he had heard numberles s
figs and currants talk. They spoke of Marathon,
Salamis, Thermopylae. The currants- looked on
Salamis, and Salamis looked on the figs. They
appealed to him for liberty; he gave it them.
In Fried Pork he had seen his own flesh and
blood; it sputtered and frizzled. Terrible tur
moil ! men railing above, iron railing below!
Awful coition of the windbag and the ’water
spout. Ineffable combat of order and liberty 1
In Geneva he had met with a curious species of
the Yankee Transatlanticus, honest, sober-minded,
truthful. All these were conclusively established
by indirect claims. Mysterious atavis ni ! The
�54
THE FIJIAD; OR,
grandfather Britisher is reproduced in the grand
son Yankee.
In Rancourshire he had seen a prophet
honoured in his own country. Happier far is the
land of dreams than the region of reality ! The
Possible has pleasures unknown to the Actual.
In the plains of Troy he had witnessed a terrible
combat; a man fought with a beast. The man
was girt about with a corslet of prickles ; his
name was Bobbilo ! The beast was a young
lion that came forth of a den labelled Bellewgraph! The beast sought to take from the man
a money-bag, to give it to them that labour in
the plains. But he was slain by the prickles of
Bobbilo.
In Bluewich he had seen a river flowing with
the distilled juice of the juniper; even where great
ships go. And men drank thereof, and were
drunken. And they worshipped the great King
Log, or Board, who gave them to drink. And
Achille offered them a feast of reason, if they
would make him their king. But they preferred
gin and King Log.
In Fiji he had seen a monster which was neither
a bug nor a bear, but a bugbear. Another evil
beast, too, had he seen in the villages round the
Tower; neither was this beast a bear, nor had he
ever seen a bear, yet was he always next door to a
bear. He was called Bearton. A Sphinx without
an CEdipus, which perpetually gnawed the en
trails of Achille. Most horrible mystery of the
Possible, nay, rather of the Actual. Not so much
a dream as a nightmare.
So was Achille a dreamer. Such were his
dreams. To many incredible; to him realities.
Dreams are true while they last; with him they
lasted for ever. And do we not live in dreams ?
The Unknown is greater than the Known. It is
limited only by the Illimitable. The greater in
cludes the less. The Unknown then includes
the Known! The Impossible and the Unknown
include the Possible and the Known. Dreams
include life : such is the logic of the Infinite.
Achille was suspected; every one was uneasy
about him. Opinion averted itself; opinion is the
tongue of Unreason. This has ideas. None
knows whence. They are strange; they are in
explicable ; they are strong. They combine the
inexplicability of the miracle -with the immov-
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
ability of the belief. Suddenly they vanish. The
whence and the whither are ali’k-e unknown. Un
reason had its ideas of Achille. Opinion expressed
it. It said, “ He is a Jesuit.” Men heard it in
the ominous whisper of the | muttering thunder
cloud. On desolate rockheads the plover shrieked
it to the seagull. It said, “Jesweet.” It was in
men’s mouths. They spoke of it fearfully. Aside!
the pig-headed Rurals alone grunted it aloud. It
was said that he had been educated at Rome.
Many persons of the highest respectability were
prepared to depose on oath that he had been seen,
as a young man, at Hogford. This is on the road
to Rome. It looked suspicious. Why on the
road, if not going thither ?
Moreover, he had been known to talk vehemently
about “justice'to Ireland.” There were those
who had heard him. It was in unguarded
moments. Now, Ireland is full of Jesuits. What
did he mean ? Men shook their heads. They
said, “Murder will out! ” They quoted “Eugene
Aram” and the “Bells.” They knew not what to
do ; they avoided Achille. They went to the
“Lyceum.”
Again it was rumoured that he had refused to
kiss Mr. Half Mile. Now, the Jesuit always kisses.
The kiss of peace ! This looked as if he were
afraid of betraying himself. In addition, he per
sisted in shaving. Now it is a well-known fact
that Jesuits shave until they are black in the face.
This was ominous.
But it was confidently asserted that at night he
slept in a Jesuit’s dress upon sackcloth. It was
known as a positive fact, to which many were
willing to bear witness, that very early one morn
ing his valet was seen going upstairs to Achille’s
bedroom, carrying his clothes ready brushed. He
could not, then, have slept in his clothes. This
seemed to be some evidence. More than enough!
This was not all. Men looked askance at him.
They said, “ He is a thief.” A man of the great
est versatility (who had been clerk to an attorney
and prime minister and both Radical and Tory,
and therefore eminently fitted to be a detective)
had openly asserted that Achille had been plun
dering and blundering. What could that mean
but that he had been thieving and detected ?
True, the versatile man vouchsafed no explanation.
But who needed any ? The facts spoke for them
55
selves. And Achille had not denied it. He was
obstinately silent. “Silence is guilt,” says the
old proverb.
However, shortly afterwards he offered to remit
the Income Tax. Here was a shock. Men
opened their eyes ! Two million pounds sterling
per annum ! that is to say, fifty million francs!
Had he, then, stolen a sum which, invested in con
sols, would produce this ? If not, how could he
offer to pay it ? If yes, how much was it ? More
than one and a half thousand million francs! The
imagination refused to grasp it. They reduced it
to sous. They were more puzzled than ever. The
only thing clear was that he must have stolen it!
This was mentioned to him. He protested vio
lently and wished to explain. But they shut their
ears. “ Qui s' exczise, s' accuse,” they .said. It
seemed as if all proverbs and sayings fought
against Achille. Language was his enemy : yet
he loved it. Language! inscrutable mystery.
Science dissects ! Philosophy enigmatizes ! yet
it remains. It is the vehicle alike of Reason and
of Unreason.
It was said, “ He is a coward.” No distant
mutterings, but the hoarse rattle of thunder
overhead! The costermonger speaking in the
crowd! No pale sheet-lightnings ! but forked!
Whirlwind! Whence this indignation ? Men
cried that he had taken a pilgrimage to Merlin :
had cringed on his knees before one Misbark ;
consented to be kicked, then licked the dust from
the toe that kicked him ! Away with him!
Overwhelming evidence ! It was known as a
fact that when Misbark had a quarrel with
another person, Achille refused to call him out;
and did not even hit him in the eye. This of
itself was enough. But beyond this! He had
been seen at Bunich. This was almost as far as
Merlin in a slightly different direction. Why
should he not go straight: but that he wished
to hide his movements ? On his return, too, he
was seen with a knapsack on his back: evidently
to hide the place where he was kicked! his
trousers were worn at the knees! very suspi
cious ! As he left the steamer he had been seen
to spit, as if dust were still in his mouth ! Abso
lutely convincing! Irrefutable.
His cowardice was proved on another occa
sion, when he shook hands with a Yankee
�5®
THE FIJIAD ; OR
shopkeeper and paid for something' he took from
the shop. Could anything be more contemptible ?
Who ever heard of a man in his position shaking
hands with an inferior ? or paying his debts ? to
a foreigner, too ? In fact no one would do it
unless he were afraid of his creditor. Nothing
could be meaner, or more un-English ! Well
might they be indignant, and hurl at him thun
derbolts of anathemas; for if he were allowed
to .do it, it would establish a precedent, and
every one would have to pay his debts. This was
outrageous !, Had never been the custom since
the world was a nebular hypothesis ; never should
be until it was a cold, solidified lump ! Political
Economy would be impossible. The impious
blasphemer dared to raise his hand against that.
Divine and dismal science! Let him suffer.
Deliver him over to the Chinuera of retributive
justice !
Achille sat in a room in Browning Street;
heedless of Opinion. She whispered, spoke, roared,
“Jesuit, thief, coward!” He was as one that
heard not; he dreamt he saw a beautiful Emerald
Island. No plague of locusts pestered it. St.
Patrick Jhad expelled all reptiles. No noise of
riots disturbed it. St. Achille had driven out
shillelaghs and brickbats. Happiest of lands !
contiguous to an ocean no longer melancholy,
but caressing it with innumerable kisses. It
seemed extraordinary: not impossible.
He
dreamt. Before him was a desk with pigeon
holes. There were three. Mysterious number !
Upon each a label. Irish Church! Irish Land1
Irish Education ! He followed an idea. He saw
it disappear into the third pigeon-hole. Un
daunted he pursued it. The courage of som
nambulism is proverbial. He inserted his right
arm and dived among] the papers. Suddenly he
felt himself seized, bitten, stung. A strange
indescribable horror thrilled through him. The
Unknown was upon him.
He was terri
fied.
In the dark depth some baleful monster had
twisted itself round his arm. Red as fire, cold as
death, it clutched him] and bore him backwards.
It held him as in a vice. It pressed him back
wards towards the door. It stretched, lengthened,
screwed itself out. Horrible slimy monster! Its
skin was covered with innumerable blood-sucking
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
parasites, black as night. These fastened upon
him, biting, stinging, envenoming.
He recognized a tentacle of the Scarlet Devil.
There were more to come! He knew that. Should
he fight ? Should he fly ? There was yet time :
he pondered.
Creation abounds in monstrous forms. None
more monstrous than this. It combines the craft
of the spider, the malice of the puma, the malig
nance of typhoid. In the centre is a fat, bag
shaped mass, glittering with all hues of the
rainbow. This serves as a bait for its prey; they
are as the sweet secretion of the pitcher-plant. It
is the cloak of a malignant will. From this
centre radiate eight horrible tentacles. Elastic,
grasping, extensible, red as blood, covered with
black parasites. Three of these hold it fast to its
abode. This is the Fattycan. Here are the loaves
and the fishes, upon which it gluts its abominable
maw. Five others twist, wriggle, screw, radiate,
insinuate, revolve : sweeping thè land and the
sea for their prey, The shark has pilot-fish ;
these have parasites, The crayfish has feelers;
these have parasites, The serpent has its sting ;
these have parasites. Man has retrievers ; these
have parasites. These parasites perform at once
the functions of pilot-fish, feelers, stings, retrievers.
Terrible concatenation of qualities. It is red as
iron in the furnace; cold as steel in the ice.
Hence the English call it Scarlet Devil. Most
monstrous of monsters. Hence the Italian name
Ultramonsterism.
Science takes it and discusses it. Decides its
order and species. Piocephalos, Omnivorous,
Octopes. Its tentacles are of two kinds. Three
are statical ; five, dynamical. The three hold
it to the rocky caverns of the Fattycan. The
five do its evil mission in the world. Science
57
grasps, too, that bewildering mass of parasites.
It classifies in categories. There are three orders.
The Dishups, the Beasts, and the Weak Ones.
Each has its function. The Weak Ones wait
upon the Beasts. The Beasts collect prey and
hand it to the Dishups. The. Dishups pass it
through the tentacles into the carnivorous maw
of the monster. Even in the most monstrous
revelation of Evil there is order and fitness : the
means are adapted to the end: the function
to the organ! the being to the environment.
These parasites are black, within and without.
In Germany they are called blackbeetles.
Philosophy too has its say. It questions. It
asks whence and wherefore ? Why this monster
preying upon the vitals of the world ? We are
driven back upon the existence of Evil. Achille
was driven back—to the door. He was coura
geous : it is true. Of what avail is courage
against the Infinite Evil? More than once he
essayed to return. Vain effort. The vast hideous
tentacle of the Scarlet Devil kept swelling and
screwing itself out of the pigeon-hole! It was
filling the whole room. There was an overwhelm
ing clatter of beetles : stinging, biting, buzzing,
bewildering. Terrible uproar. A chorus of evil
spirits shouting, “Yougo! Yougo ! ”
It was now or never ! He turned and fled.
Pursued by the coils of the Scarlet Devil, he
rushed away. Special express, “ Hawarden via
Greenwich.” The Scarlet Devil had conquered.
When there he took breath. He gasped. He
was free. He took a sword. He flourished it in
his lefthand. He was awake.
He cried, “ La Revanche / I will expostulate !
I will have BLOOD.” Nevertheless he was
gone.
�5§
THE FIJIAD; OR,
Cije
Centb iBigbt’s (Entertainment.
R. JOHNSON was evidently anxious to
begin the business of the evening, and
his countenance wore an air of mystery. He
fidgetted rather nervously with a manuscript in
his breast-pocket, and when the time came to
begin the reading, disposed of a glass of toddy
with great rapidity, and said—
“Last evening we were favoured with a speci
men of the style of an eminent foreign author.
To-night I will read to you an hitherto un
published Idyll by our own great Mennyson.
Don’t any of you fellows mention it, because,
you see, as the manuscript was entrusted to me in
confidence, just to polish up a bit, and write a
dozen lines or so here and there, there’d be a
deuce of a row if Alf came to know that I had
let anybody see it.”
“ Is it in rhyme ? ” asked Smith.
“ No,” replied Johnson, “ it isn’t.”
“Glad of that,” was the answer; “he’s an
awful fellow for rhymes—
“ Oh, the wild rhymes he made,
While small writers wondered,
To read in the ‘ Light Brigade,’
‘ Hundred ’ and ‘ Thundered.’
If that had appeared in any copy of ours, old
man, we should have heard of it for a month
afterwards, but, I suppose, it’s all right in the
Floreate.”
Johnson began to read, but after the first two
lines was interrupted by Smith with, “ None of
your jokes ; that sounds like a parody—there’s a,
faint suspicion of—
i
“ ‘ Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable,
f
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat.’ ”
j
■ “ Never mind what it sounds like, but be quiet.
Now, then, attention.”
Then he ran his fingers through his hair, looked
round the room several times, and with a voice
formed somehow in the back of his head, read the |
Idyll of
Seasidceus the. Solitary.
ILL LAINE the fat, Bill Laine the trouble<2^ some,
Bill Laine the silly man who lost his hat,
|
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
Told me the legend as we walked along,
When all the summer sun was in a swirl,
And the white waves were beating on the
beach.
“Not always thus, not always lazy crowds
Of visitors, who come for three-and-six
From out the dusky town, where curlews faint
Among the chimney-pots and on the slime
Of asphalte pavements the squegee is scraped.
Not always thronged thus the lengthy pier,
Drawn out beyond the shingle to the sea,
Beyond the line where, in the kissing surf,
The ancient bathing-women dip the girls ;
Beyond the limit where the bather thinks
The sea too rough, and paddles back again.
For once a year—yes, every passing year—
When the fierce sun is beating on the head,
And twines the pugaree around the hat;
When the cool billows splash against the cliff;
When Lancelot of the Lake takes off his coat, H
And he and Arthur have a quiet smoke out.
In shady nook at happy Camelot,
And GuineVere shakes off her stately robe—
Robe of ‘ white samite, mystic, beautiful ’
(In many dictionaries have I sought,
And asked of ancient venerable men
Who paced with Merlin on the silver sand
Beside the sea in old Pendragon’s time ;
But what I could not guess from word or book,
From lore of sages, or from ‘ woven pace ’—
I really cannot understand the phrase—
And waving hands of lissom Vivien,
Is, what the dickens may ‘ white samite ’ be ?)—
Fair Guinevere, the gold-haired, happy Queen I
It is not true the legend varlets tell
(Base penny-lining loungers round the Court)
That Guinevere and Arthur did not live
As happy wife and husband rightly should,
But quarrelled sore, and in Judge Hannen’s
court
Loosened their b»nd by getting a divorce;
That Guinevere took lodgings far away •' •
And never more was seen at Camelot ;
And that King Arthur drifted out to sea, ‘3 i‘-’To pick up sword with name preposterous,
While Bevedere, who should have got a boat And saved the King, sat with his legs across,
Extended fingers, and tip-tilted nose.”
59
“Bill Laine the fat, Bill Laine Jhe troublesome,
Bill Laine the silly man who lost his hat,
What means this idle talk of Bevedere,
Queen Guinevere, and good King 3 Arthur’s
death?”
♦
To me replied Bill Laine, “ The time will come
When the white ashes of this bad’cigar
Drift outwards, borne along by idle winds ;
Then will I tell how in the summer day
The fishermen who dwell beside the shore,
The hind who waits upon the milky kine,
The darkened minstrels singing on the beach,
The pallid visitor from town remote,
The keen-faced matrons who the lodgings let,
The mayor and burghers of the ancient town,
All flee to hide among the darkling woods,
Or take up quarters in the inlandfthorpes,
Or hide among the sedges by the rhere,
Where comes no murmur of the angry sea.
“ None paces on the cliffs or sandy reach,
But one old man, an ancient, shabby man,
Whose nose is red as poppies in a field
Where waves the com to ripen in the sun.
Alone he wanders up and down the pier;
Alone on the parade he smokes a pipe ;
Alone he pitches pebbles in the sea,
And catches little crabs and laughs aloud,
. Till the strong ripples of his laugh resound
Like breakers beating on Tintagel’s shore;
Never is seen at any other time—
Never when children pile the silver sand
And dig with tiny spades, when urchins dive
For halfpence hurled into the seething sea ;
Never when matrons call their noisy brood
And bid them look out for the husbands’ boat;
But when the season’comes for all to flee
In terror from the sea that leaps upright
In mighty waves, then comes the old man forth,
With hands in pockets, and he laughs aloud—
Seasidaeus the Solitary is he named.
“ There is a legend that in ages past,
Long centuries since in the dim night of time,
An aged matron, who had saved some gold
And stored it in a casket night and day,
Refusing often to buy Spanish stock,
Or shares in mines where subtle gems were hid—
�6o
THE FIJIAD; OR,
Jacinth (what’s that ?), topaz, and ruby bright,
Gold burning in its veins to seethe light,
And only needing just a little tin
To bring it forth and pay a dividend—
This ancient woman, mumbling in her greed,
Was tempted by a wizard’s subtle arts
To try a raffle, held at a bazaar,
And won Seasidseus from the lucky-bag;
She named him so, and nursed him on her knee,
And crooned out to the infant she had won
Fragments of song learned in the ancient days—
‘ Ride a cock-horse,’ ‘ Now you go up, go up,’
And the old lay that in the summer time
The cuckoo warbled to the cherry tree.”
“ Bill Laine the fat, Bill Laine the troublesome,
Bill Laine the silly man who lost his hat,
Lost you your head, too, when you had that loss,
That thus you talk such nonsense by the sea ?
It is not true, you know it is not true—
It cannot, shall not, must not be a truth,
That in the summer all the people fly
Far from the sea and hide themselves-in fear,
Leaving the watering-place to one old man.
Bill Laine the fat, Bill Laine the troublesome,
You are untruthful, for we know full well
That cockneys and their dames and little ones
Go to the seaside when the weather’s warm,
And rather think it the right sort of thing.
Bill Laine the silly man who lost his hat,
I think the beer that foamed up in the glass—
(The cork from wine freed two fathoms leaped,
Then fell into the sea and floated far,
Perhaps to islands where the ‘ dusky race ’
I just alluded to in ' Locksley Hall ’
Have never tasted Bass’s bottled ale)—
Has touched the brain, as Merlin touched of old
The wandering fancies of King Arthur’s knights,
With champagne bumpers at the Table Round.”
♦
“ O faithless hearer, listen wlple I tell
How this Seasidaeus grew to be a man ;
By wizard force a strange thing came to pass,
First he was young, then old—a wondrous thing,
Which does not happen to the common man .;
While yet a child he listened to the tales,
Sold for a penny to the English boys,
Of deeds of daring and of magic might,
�ENGLISH NIGHTS ’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
And of strange doings in the time to be.
One wondrous prophecy came from the lips
Of her who won him from the lucky-bag,
That in the time to be there would be heard
Moaning along the waves a mighty voice,
Asking, ‘ Where is the lost King Octopus
The lost king for whose fate the cuttlefish
Sheds inky tears which stain the Southern sea.'
For leagues and leagues, stretching along the
waves,
The great Sea-serpent, answering to the cry,
Waving its tail till little trembling whales
Fly to their mothers, and the throbbing waves
Make earthquakes midst the palms of Eastern
isles,
The great Sea-serpent lifts its mane and asks, .
‘ What ruthless Buckland keeps King Octopus ? ’
“ The legend sprouted in Seasidaeus’ mind,
And brought forth fruit in many a warning tale.
The boatmen who caught fish on stormy nights
Grew white with fear if a low moan were heard
Stealing across the waves, and made for shore,
Saying, ‘ They come to seek for Octopus !’
And therefore is it that the people fly
At certain seasons in the passing year,
Because Seasidaeus told them there would come
The great Sea-serpent and the many-legged
61
And very ugly tribe of Octopus,
To seek their monarch, by enchantment held,
For idle gazers to make mirth about,
In some Aquarium by the ocean brink.
“ Seasidaeus the Solitary then comes forth
And sits on the parade, and on the pier,
And looks out on the wildering, yeasty waves,
And listens to the moans upon the sea—
The moan of winds far out beyond the bay ;
He looks through glasses left by the coastguar d,
When in their fear they fled with all the rest;
He reads the news from papers left behind,
He drinks the leavings of the bottled beer—
A shabby, seedy man, so very old,
A red-nosed, bearded, solitary man.”
“ Bill Laine the fat, Bill Laine the trouble
some,
Bill Laine the silly man who lost his hat,
I almost fancy that you tell a fib ;
But let me know if, in the time to be,
That old man will descry the Octopus,
And hear it calling out about its king ? ”
“ I rather think, my friend, he never will;
But I have told the legend as I heard :
The tale is yours, do with it as you will,
It’s worth, at least, another draught of beer.”
I
�62
THE FIJIAD; OR,
Entertainment
OBUbentfi
HE story related this evening was in a very
different style from that of the previous one,
and appeared to please Fijitee greatly. “ You
call us savages,” he said, snapping his fingers,
and tossing off another glass of champagne,
“ but I now find another instance in this story
that we in Fiji have, without knowing it, been
very like Europeans. Some of the missionaries
tried to make us believe that it was very wicked
to fight, that we should be friends with our
neighbours, and so on. I now find that they were
making fun of us, and that the great kings of the
civilized world are as .fond of killing their enemies,
as they call them, as we are.”
The story told was—
Sweet William and his Bigmark : a
Simple Story of War and Glory.
IN SEVERAL FYTTES.
FYTTE
THE
FIRST.
Of Glorious Kings, and How Sweet William was One
of Them.
a glorious thing it is to find
A king of a truly regal mind !—
Who through right and wrong, who through thick and
thin,
Will go ever onward, and always win.
What paeans will round his chariot ring
Who achieves success, the one needful thing 1
How shouting, jubilant crowds confess
There’s nothing succeeds like that same success ’
What a lesson to see the conqueror go,
Serenely great, o’er a fallen foe,
Extorting each penny, so long as there’s any—
,
For the faults of the few smiting hard the many—
Ignoring the low law of “thine ” and “mine,”
• . i
But a zealous upholder of “right divine ”•—The right that enables the king, who’s strong,
To trample the weak, and yet do no wrong;
And when with war he hath nations vext,
I
To approve the slaughter with pious text;
To ask Heaven’s help again and again,
While homesteads are ravaged and myriads slain—
1
�ENGLISH NIGHTS ’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
To give his armed warriors the widest tether,
While they thrust forth babes in the wintry weather—
And, like Balaam, stand blessing them altogether !
Once on a time, in a certain clime,
There dwelt a monarch of might sublime—
Ev’ry inch a king, right through and through,
And a good many inches there were of him, too;
For a stalwart ruler, they say, was he,
Who stood in his stockings some six feet three.
In his youth he’d gallantly joined in a strife
That the nations had waged for freedom and life,
When, rising in wrath ’gainst oppression and wrong,
They bravely stood ’gainst a tyrant strong,
Who’d ground the world ’neath his cruel manus,
And fluttered the Volscians, like Coriolanus—
An eagle, perdie, in a dove-cote was he,
Though the doves were more cunning than doves
should be.
For years the bowed necks of the kings he marched
wholly on,
They thought him Apollyon—his name was Napoleon ;
You’d have thought he’d been Davy Jones’s own crony,
That little stout man who was known as “ Boney.”
But they pulled off his crown, and great the renown
Of all who had helped to put Bonaparte down.
’Twas natural, perhaps, that they all should be proud,
But then they all sang so consumedly loud ;
And they boasted, I ween, about eighteen-thirteen,
Oblivious how many ’gainst one they had been;
Forgetting how queerly the thing might have gone,
Had the rule been—one down, another come on.
That ’gainst their great foe in such numbers they rushed,
He was not so much beaten as smothered and crushed.
Now, sweet William, a youngster, took part in the
strife,
And lived on the glory the rest of his life,
Till, when fifty more winters had rolled o’er his head,
He ruled the great kingdom of Powderanlead.
FYTTE THE SECOND.
Of the Kingdom of Powderanlead, and How it was
Governed ; likewise, How Sweet William had a Friend
with whom he took Sweet Counsel.
Now, Powderanlead is a land whose chief charm is
Inventing the blessing of large standing armies.
With a mighty meek monarch its rise had begun,
Who d a craze for tall soldiers, and bullied his son ;
That son, the old “ Fritz,” showed a king’s divine
right,
By filching a province and holding it- tight.
63
’Twas wrong, if you will, but he earned a world’s
wonder,
By the way that he fought, seven long years, for his
plunder.
’Twas a brimstony greatness, perhaps, but ’twas gain,
And the nation since then has had “Fritz on the
brain,”
With a liking to “ bully,” and grasp all, and keep all,
Winch made them a cheerful, agreeable people—
And as were the people, just so was the head,
In the peaceable kingdom of Powderanlead.
It’s treason to tell, but the truth must remain,
That kings are not always o’erweighted with brain,
For I’ve found it true, and perhaps so have you—
If we take but the pains to look histories through__
That kings, now and then—though we must not say
when—
Are found to have blundered and failed, like mere men
(There was one made a mess—his name you must guess ;
He oft said, “Why, why—why?” “What, what—
what ? ” “ Yes, yes, yes ! ”)
And thus to confess of Sweet William I’m led,
The chief strength of this monarch was not in his head.
But, then, for much brain what occasion had he,
When, like good King Cole, he’d a secretarie ?
To grasp an advantage, or work out a plan,
To ruthlessly finish whate’er he began,
For this, Whatavon Bigmark was just the right man;
For increasing the army a bill in to bring,
To bully the Parliament—all for the king—
To keep a tight hand, throughout all the land,
On the troublesome people who won’t understand
(For he couldn’t abide their insolent pride
Who said there are rights kings should not override)—
Such was the service that Bigmark had done,
And so in the State he was counted A 1_
Indeed, there were many shrewd fellows who said
Twas William who followed and Bigmark who led.
FYTTE THE THIRD.
Of the Nation of Nousommparfay ; its Ruler, and the
Kind of People he Governed; and How a Quarrel
Began.
Now, as we may say, just over the way,
In the kingdom next that which Sweet William did
sway,
There sat on a throne, whereon grey he had grown,
A monarch of whom, if the whole truth were known,
We might say, he’d done things he had best left alone;
But still, on the whole, he was not a bad soul,
And he governed a people right hard to control;
�64
THE FIJIAD; OR,
For a difficult task it was to sway
The warlike kingdom of Nousommparfay.
And, in my opinion, the point he failed most in
Was keeping an army much given to boasting—
“ Their fathers had put many foes to the rout! ”
(They forgot that those fathers, were, later, turned out) ;
“ Their fathers a name immortal had made! ”
(And a nice little bill for that name they had paid) ;
“ They could fight, and could conquer the wide world
through ;
They’d ”—and so on—and so on.—-Between me and you,
The army was there, and had nothing to do.
Now Whatavon Bigmark, that shining light,
Had the national virtue of holding tight ;
’Twas also a part of his nature bold
To like something new to have and to hold :
So he sent the army to try its hand
On the little kingdom of Sea-king-land, •
To give it a march-out, just for a change—
To try the rifles and get the range.
Then southward they further fame did seek,
And killed their thousands, all in a week ;
And thus a new love of conquest was bred
In the gallant people of Powderanlead.
Then he called together a council wise,
Whose genius to higher things did rise,
And they got a noble army of spies—
And these were cautiously sent away,
And they lived and laboured in Nousominparfay,
And quiskly began to send reports
How that country was somewhat out of sorts.
They said that its whilome active chief
Was now in the sere and yellow leaf;
That what was doing he did not know
(And Whatavon Bigmark said, “ Oho! ”);
That the troops were noisy and weak, to boot
(And Bigmark winked, and muttered, “ Ganz gut! ”) ;
That they would .not obey their chiefs commands,
And were turning to ill-drilled, mutinous bands
(And William smiled sweetly, and rubbed his hands).
Then William and Bigmark, those rulers rare,
Said, “ We’ll be peaceable, we’ll be fair—
Sad it would be to have war at last! ”
And they had a number of cannon cast;
“ Oh, may we ne’er live a war to see ! ”
And they winked at each othei furtively.
No ; here to an error I’ve been beguiled—
It was William winked, and Bigmark smiled.
And gentle Bigmark bowed and withdrew,
While William went and held a review.
�ENGLISH NIGHTS ’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
And so, one day, they the news did get
That there was a handsome throne to let—
A throne that seemed ready made to hand,
That must not be suffered vacant to stand,
Down in the south-west, in Quixote-land.
Here was a chance for par nobile fratrum!
They could hardly hope to meet with a greater ’un ;
Here was a chance of profit and pelf,
And the noble motto of “ Each for himself.”
Says Bigmark, “ An’t please you, Majestat,
Here is the chance for which we wait;
We may not miss this good occasion
To help a poor—I mean, a relation ;
The Prince of Goandcollar’em, he
The occupant of this throne should be.”
But lo and behold, that self-same day
There came a despatch from Nousommparfay,
To say the Emperor would not stand
That Goandcollar’em should rule that land ;
“ Withdraw him,” it said, “for good and all,
Or else there’ll certainly be a squall.”
Oh, ’tis a touching sight to see
Two noble spirits together agree,
To see them work for the self-same end
In beauteous concord, like friend and friend ;
’Twould have pleased the Grand Turk
To see these very good friends at work,
And to see the grim smile on each countenance lurk.
“ They’re not ready,” said Bigmark, “ we're ready and
strong,
Therefore we’re in the right and they’re in the
wrong ;
And, take my word for it, it will not be long
Ere the word among them will be, ‘ Allong, Marshong! ’ ”
So they answered so gay, and at once said, “ Ay, Ay ”
To the angry remonstrance of Nousommparfay,
“ Prince Goandcollar’em,” they said, “ shouldn’t stand
As a candidate for Quixote-land ;
But, still, if he chose to come forward again,
Why, no one could tell -what might happen then.”
In short, they so managed to hum and to haw,
With what we should call “banter,” and vulgar folks
“jaw,”
That the Nousommparfayites cried, “ Compienongpaw; ”
And a great angry crowd
For war shouted loud—Unwashed and unkempt, but all patriots, and proud ;
And each thing was done that to such case belongs,
As vowing of vengeance, and singing of songs,
65
And hurling defiance, and hatred, and scorn
At each Powderanleadite that ever was born ;
That before the hour of reflection could come,
And heads were clear of absinthe and rum,
The word for “war ” had been spoken and said
Between Nousommparfay and Powderanlead.
FYTTE THE FOURTH.
How Sweet William and Bigmark were Successful.
A ruler once said, and truly, ’twould seem,
“ It’s ill swapping horses when crossing a stream ; ”
I think to this maxim we might add one more—
With your army not ready, it’s ill to cry, “ War!”
When the war broke out on that fateful day
Between Powderanlead and Nousommparfay,
The difference ’twixt those powers, I wot,
Was that one was ready and t’other was not ;
And so in the battle it soon fell out
That Nousommparfay was put to rout.
Confidence fell, and panic grew,
The generals didn’t know what they should do;
They found, when once they began to flag,
That Holdfast’s a much better dog than Brag;
While the citizen-soldiers of Powderanlead
They fought right nobly, it must be said,
And their blood for their country like water they shed.
Now, war is a kind of exchange or barter—
You secure a triumph, or catch a Tartar,
Marching away
Through the livelong day,
Shooting foes, giving or taking quarter.
Here, on occasions too many to name,
Nousommparfay got the worst of the game.
Whatavon Bigmark was not alone,
He’d jolly companions more than one,
True tacticians who worked together,
While the foemen’s leaders pulled hither and thither;
And tedious were it here to rehearse
How Nousommparfay went from bad to worse ;
How, when their leaders couldn’t agree,
The people shouted, “ Nous sommes trahis ! ”
How the work of the “ master mind ”
Fell, and left not a wrack behind ;
How, spite of upbraidings and wild appeals,
One woe still trod on another’s heels,
Till frantic fury yielded at length
To steady courage and measured strength.
All this is chronicled to be read
In Nousommparfay and Powderanlead,
But oh! ’twas a touching sight to see
The union of plunder and piety.
5
�THE FIJIAD; OR,
66
For the pious dodge would Sweet William work,
While Bigmark the Ruthless raged like a Turk.
Whenever the “ butcher’s bill ” ran high
With any glorious victory,
Then William stood by
And looked up at the sky
Till you saw but the white of the royal eye;
And when many thousands of foemen were slain
He thanked the kind heavens again and again—
’Twas “wonderful Providence,” “ special grace,”
Then glowed like a furnace his holy face.
He hounded his men on, he was so religious,
And shouted, like Dominie Sampson, “ Prodigious! ”
FYTTE THE FIFTH.
IIovj
the War Ended, and What Came of it All.
’Tis a notable feature of glorious war
That the brutal nature it charms more and more
To rive and to plunder,
Cut foemen asunder,
Tell tales of great daring to open-mouthed wonderAll this has a charm for a bellicose nation,
Though legalized murders, in concatenation.
May lead to what men call demoralization.
You can’t take a man from workshop or shed,
And, when that man to a field you’ve led,
Say, “ Look, that’s your enemy, off with his head ;
Mark yonder strangers, and shoot them dead; ”
And you can’t accustom him, day by day,
To live on food for which he don’t pay,
To “ requisition,” alias thieve,
From unarmed folk who can only grieve,
Without producing a change, my friend,
Of which ’tis not easy to see the end.
And thus Sweet William, and Bigmark too,
Altered thepeople with whom they’d' to do.
All this sab’ring and shooting,
And shouting and hooting,
And spurring and booting,
Their purpose while suiting,
Developed a fine hearty genius for looting.
The soldiers of Powderanlead were no blunderers,
But no one, ’twas said, could come near them as plun
derers ;
In war brave as lions, in the field firm as rocks,
Under William the Dovelike and Bigmark the Fox,
They soon showed a marvellous liking for clocks.
I don’t mean to say
They’d demur or delay
To take anything else, in their kind, cheerful way ;
But, still, on the road they a preference showed
To where a neat timepiece adorned an abode,
And no man thought a clock was too heavy a load.
Which was strange, for ’twas said,
That the folk, like their head,
Knew well what the time was in Powderanlead.
At length came a time,
When this scene so sublime,
Of fighting and rapine, of conquest and crime,
Must come to a close, with great glory to those
Who’d the right—that’s the power—to exact what they
chose.
Then Bigmark the Bold,
Like a hero of old,
Arose in his grandeur his mind to unfold;
No cent.-per-cent. usurer, plund’ring a sot,
Could have shown half the greed of this statesman, I
wot.
All the world stood and wondered
At the way that he plundered,
How he emptied their purse, and their provinces sun
dered ;
And when they appealed
To William to shield,
And save them from power that his subject did wield,
That pious, sweet ruler would brook no evasion,
But turned up his eyes on the joyful occasion.
So round great heaps of coin
The leaders now join
Their hands, and they dance, and approve their “ desoign,”
While wives whose hearts bleed,
And orphans in need,
Wail a war of aggression protracted by greed.
But the murdered and slain
Rise in spirit again,
For the records of wrong and of sorrow remain.
Injured men turn and hate,
And the crashed foemen wait,
And sternly prepare once more to tempt fate,
And seek the hard foe with an army as great;
For war should be made for defence, not for pelf,
And the hard, grasping victor o’er-reaches himself;
For justice is stronger than kaiser or king,
And the whirl’gig of time its revenges will bring—
’Tis more difficult often to keep than to get,
So look to the end—and the end is not yet.
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
CtoelftD Oit$£’£ Otertainment
S a war correspondent,” said 0‘Quill, “ I
feel myself entitled to speak on military
subjects. That was a capital story told
night, and I saw s.ome of the incidents described.
But, Fijitee, I wish you to understand that we
English object to much fighting. We squash a
nigger king now and then, but that’s all; and,
the fact is, we have learned an easy mode to put
an end to international difficulties. I don’t mean
congresses or arbitrations, or anything of that
kind, but a new Yankee invention for making
everybody desperately fond of everybody else—a
universal brotherhood dodge of the most advanced
type. A lively American carried the flag of his
country through England, and, as nobody gar
rotted him, but a lot of boys shouted ‘Hooray!’
he supposed he had made everything all right,
and, in fact, though it occurred several months
ago, we have not had war with America since.
So, no doubt, he was quite correct in his view.
A countryman of his was struck with the bright
idea that he would make England fraternize with
Ashantee in a similar manner; and he shall
tell you how he did it. I have got a proof in
advance of his narrative. So here goes.”
And he read accordingly—•
a
Corporal Kates s March Through,
England with King Koffee's
Umbrella.
<^^ORPORAL KATES attributes his love of
travel and hardihood of personal danger
to the circumstance of his once having imbibed a
heavy draught^of petroleum, under the impression
that it was noyeau, a liqueur to which he is
greatly addicted. The petroleum was extracted
from him by tapping; but had so worked
its way into his system before being drawn,
that ever since he had felt a longing desire
to “work round,” and to “draw lines on
any dog-gone country under the sun.” He
believes the “ all-fired draught would have bust
him up,” if the doctors had not had the
presence of mind to substitute a wooden instru
ment instead of the steel gimlet ordinarily used.
However, he escaped satisfactorily, with renewed
vitality. At the age of seven he scalped Uncasz
the celebrated Last of the Mohicans ; two years
later he was “totting up a bit” in Siberia, and
then spent four years in captivity with a tribe of
last Maories. The Corporal effectually dispels thecurrent delusion that Australian meat is raised
from the victims of the late war, in spite of the
well-authenticated cases cited last week in ai
popular journal, where scraps of red cloth and
blankets had been found in the tins. Several
years more of adventurous life—during which he
married no less than fourteen wives in various
parts of the world—and then he landed on the
Gold Coast, offered his services to King Koffee
Kalkalli, was accepted, and ultimately rose, in»
the short space of seven weeks, to be Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Ashanteeian Ath
letic Body Guard, the great king’s own private
corps of picked men, all of whom are over
5ft. 3m. in height. The narrative of circum
stances which led to the undertaking which has
made him famous shall be left to his owm
words:—
“One bright fine day his majesty and* myself
Lad been having a game at draughts- on tha
plat in front of the royal palace. The- ground”
was mapped out in the necessary squares, and we
used black and grey skulls for the draughtsmen»His majesty’s wives had been particularly
pleasant that day, the physician to the harem
having only been called in twice to repair casual
ties. All nature was lovely and serene, and themighty system of the universe pursued its unde—
viating way with unclouded calm. The stem,
forehead and majestic eyebrows of King Koffee
unbent, and, calling for more rum, ws resumed
our game with vigour, and threaded the mys-tia
maze of strategic skill with unalloyed pleasure
and delight. The conversation was carried on
in desultory snatches, as his majesty found, time
to leave off scratching his head in perplexity ats
some move of mine. Leading naturally from the
game we were then'playing, the conversation felS
upon our late little war. Said King Koffee,,
‘ Kates, I am going to invade England ! They
chose to make a diplomatic mark of me, thai
European nations should not imagine them en
tirely supine and wanting in courage ; and now 1
5—*
K
I
�68
THE FIJI4D; OR,
shall give tit-for-tat. We cannot have these
people making roads through my territories with
impunity. Besides, Keeneewahtiko insists that
unless this Barnet Wolsey is brought over for her
to marry, she will send over to America for an
immediate divorce. She’s the best-tempered wife
I’ve got, and so susceptible of improvement.
Did you notice, Kates, h«w she called Kanum
“my love” and “my dear,” while she was
tapping her claret in that third round yesterday ?
It’s tickled me ever since, and I shall never forget
it. Just like a white, I declare ! But as to this
other matter, you must take it under your care.
Get some paragraphs inserted in the papers about
our inoffensiveness and armed neutrality, while
you are preparing for the one, two, three ; and
send over one or two sharp fellows to the Emperor
William, to learn how to write those pious tele
grams for publication after victory. These and
other details of preparation we graciously con
sign to your care. ’
“‘ Pardon me, old man,’ I replied; ‘I think
those little games are worn out. I tell you what
will be better. I’ll engage to carry your umbrella
on foot through the Britisher’s country. What is
our main object in life? To get money. Forwhat
did I invent the new roulette-table with the Archi
medean lever, which has drawn the eye-teeth of
your gumptious subjects so thoroughly well ? The
almighty tin. What do you want this little brush
up for ! Milliards of francs, certainly. Now, we
will get notices from the papers, have a triumphant
march on foot, with the Bearded Woman and the
“What can it be ?”from the Royal Museum, engage
P. T. Barnum, get the patronage of the Charity
Organization Society, announce all subscriptions
dedicated to the fund for establishing hospitals in
Coomassie, and then we shall roll in riches, and
your noble old self and my noble self can retire to
an honourable rest for the remainder of our days;
besides earningalittlepin-moneyfor the women by
publishing a book exposing the whole bag of tricks
afterwards. That’s your platform, my lively coon.’
“ ‘ You can’t do it.’
“ ‘ I’ll bet you two years’ screw against six of
your wives that I do.’
“ ‘ Done ! ’
“ Here I fearlessly give our motives, our organi
zation, and plan of the campaign.”
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
The Corporal, having thus entered into the
necessary explanations, and taught us a useful
lesson, goes on to give a description of the cele
brated umbrella :—
“ This unrivalled trophy is one of the most
treasured works of art amongst all the unrivalled
stores of the King’s relics and heirlooms. For
many years it has been established as the insignia
of power, thè emblem of monarchical strength, the
arbiter of the people’s fate. Judiciously-placed
lines and strings elevate or depress the nozzle, to
intimate to suitors for justice the Imperial deci
sion ; and a spring in the paragon frame displays
by mechanism the amount of fees payable into the
Royal Treasury by both litigants. Originally
taken in honourable warfare by King Koffee’s
celebrated ancestor, King Chicorri Alkali, from a
wandering bagman, it has been at various times
enlarged, until it has at length reached the enor
mous circumference of thirty-two feet ; and im
provements have made it available as a bedroom,
a justice hall, a prize ring wherein the queens
can settle their little differences, and a music
hall ; while it affords means of decoration, by
which strings of skulls and preserved arms and
legs can be effectively displayed. An experiment
on a large scale with fireworks necessitated
various repairs after a joyful anniversary following
the death of thirty-three of King Koifee’s wives in a
'mêlée. In this affair the King himself acted as
pyrotechnist, and, approaching rather too near to
explode some mines, was blown into several pieces,
being only made up again at considerable cost
and labour. To this day he is minus two fingers
and a portion of the back of his skull, which a
monkey made off with, and was seen afterwards,
with the well-known imitative genius of its race,
trying to blow up at a deserted camp-fire. Mr.
Brock has had several pressing invitations to
attend and experience his majesty’s generosity
for this entertainment, but has hitherto, for some
reason known to himself, persistently declined.”
Mr. Kates complains bitterly of the unautho
rized and assuming imitation of this choice
curiosity placed in old King Cole’s storehouse,
and offers indubitable proof of the authenticity of
his own standard. We pass over his parting
from his royal master, the amiable dispute as to
which of the wives should fall to his choice (as
69
those most amusingly pugnacious King Koifee
wished to retain, without risk of losing them by
other means than honourable warfare), the part
ing injunction respecting Barnet Wolsey from
the pretty lips of Keeneewahtiko, and take our
next extract from his chapter headed “ Dover to
London.”
” On arriving at Dover I found two disappoint
ments awaiting me: my agents had failed in
discovering the identity of the venerable and
irreclaimable old savage, so well known in con
temporary history; and the Prince of Humbugs
humbugged me into believing that admiration for
his new house and premises kept him fixed in a
chair in the plat of the garden facing it. My spirits,
ever dauntless, rose to the occasion, and the
blood of my ancestors boiled to be thus thwarted !
Making the best of a bad matter, I bought up a
circus triumphal car, secured a lot of old posters,
and sent on the agent in advance with orders to
make a sensation. Materials were rather scanty
though, and I was compelled to call up all my
old-time pluck to face the occasion—tarnation fix
as it was. Far ahead, about a quarter of a mile,
were sent the collecting boxes, for subscriptions,
with banners on the side of each bearing the
names of distinguished patrons, hired for the
price of a weekly luncheon. Then came the
Bearded Woman on horseback, with special orders
neither to lag nor go too fast, and so spoil the
symmetry of the cavalcade. The ‘What is it ? ’
followed at a similar distance; next my two
Ashanteeian servants, painted up in war costume
at great expense (the contractor at Dover can
give particulars of the little bill, especially as it is
not yet settled), and lastly myself, under the
beneficent shade of the mighty umbrella, which
seemed, as it tranquilly moved through the firma
ment, to breathe the air and spirit of the
unquenchable and indomitable afflatus of my
most potent master.
“We went on well enough for a short distance,
but at the first hill we came to our descent was
much too rapid. The fact is, that there was no
break on the wheels, and the triumphal car (‘ one
gorgeous blaze of scenic art and decorative
science ’—vide posters) overpowered the horses,
and there was just a considerable flare-up, I can
assure you ! When I recovered from the feeling
�7°
*
THE FIJIAD; OR,
of swayishness, which was the last sensation I
experienced before I lost all count of time,
balance, and the centre of gravity, I found a
scene of lamentable destruction before my eyes.
The gallant supers, who had been lavishly attired
for the pedestals of the car before leaving Dover,
were mixed up like a national Ashantee dish of
captive warriors, with pieces of gilt-work, frac
tured cornices, and fragments of glass. It was a
long time before we could determine which limbs
belonged to which ; and in hauling out the repre
sentative of Asia, who was the only female on the
staff, she vowed an action for assault, because we
seized her by the foot—the only part of her left
in sight. Though lost to sight she is indeed to
memory dear, for a heavy fee was necessary to
secure her silence. Everybody having assured
themselves that they were perfect, Europe was
sent on ahead to overtake the collector, as the
treasury was getting hard-up ; but, on hearing
the crash, the fellow had bolted with all the coin.
Nothing could be seen either of the Bearded
Woman or the 'What is it ? ’ though information
reached me that a representative specially sent
from the British Museum to secure them had
seized the opportunity to effect his object. They
were promptly suffocated and botEed in spirits-ofwine, and may now be seen in Gallery CV.,
Section LXIII., Sub-section XXXVIII. The
‘ What is it ? ’ I may mention, was my twenty
eighth wife, and is gradually assuming in her
new sphere, within her crystal tomb, the air and
grace by which I so well remember her before we
dressed up and manufactured her into her last
character.
“ But the umbrella ? Ah! that was irrevocably
damaged; my head had burst through six folds,
and a rascally London firm charged me a large
amount to make another of the same model by
the next day. With this I again started, though
with a humbler parade. The same blessed spirit of
my chief seemed to glower through my umbrellerial substitute, and my heart exulted in pride as
its folds grandly waved a welcome to the English
breezes. I became my own treasurer, secretary,
and board of directors, and safely reached Can
terbury, w’here I was received with much enthu
siasm. Various hotel-keepers pressed around me
for the honour of providing for my sustenance;
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
the mayor, police, firemen, and volunteers, with
the choristers from the cathedral—all dressed in
the colours of Ashantee—met to give me a hearty
welcome, and my whole progress to my selected
abode was one triumph of loyal purity over bom
bastic knavery; one shower of witching smiles
from bonny Kentish faces; one course of light
ning, winking flashes from brilliant Kentish eyes.
The only mishap that happened was, that the
mayor somehow got mixed up into the fire-engine,
and, being unable to disgorge the speech prepared,
has since been seriously ill. Subscriptions
prospered here, and, with my funds, I proceeded
to the dean, with a proposal to buy St. Augus
tine’s Gate for transmission to Coomassie, that
it might remain a pledge of the peace between
the two great countries, an emblem of fraternity
which should never be broken while English coin
and English credulity lasted. The innocent old
gentleman hardly conceived my purpose, but
when it dawned on his benighted imagination,
he coolly rang for his servants to show me the
other side of the door, intimating that his profes
sion only restrained him from ejecting me still
less ceremoniously. ‘‘Hang your impudence !’
said I; ‘ but at least you’ll give me a subscription?’
‘ Not one halfpenny,’ said he, pursing up his lips.
‘ Go, sir, if you please, before I lose my temper
and put on these boots.’ So saying, he held up
a pair of Hoby’s best nail-studded and prime
leather. ‘ What’ll you take for those same
boots ? ’ said I ; but he wouldn’t trade, and I
departed.
‘ ‘ Leaving Canterbury with regret, I pressed on
for Faversham and Dartford. The road was lined
with people ; the aspect of the pretty dales and
densely-wooded hills of the garden of England
was one great fair. All round me were greetings,
welcomes, brawny hands to shake, pretty mouths
to kiss, invitations to drink; and so much was my
progress impeded by these uproarious welcomes,
that I gained very little ground, and was obliged
to halt between Canterbury and Faversham. We
kept up the jollity and fun to a very late hour;
seduced the policeman who remonstrated into
drunkenness, bonneted his sergeant, and then
went to bed. How great was the change in the
7*
morning! So still, so calm, so serene ! one
could hardly imagine that so lately had Bac
chanalian scenes disturbed this peaceful land
scape. All were sleeping peacefully as I bathed
my throbbing brows in the clear, pellucid waters of
the horse-trough. My time was up, and I again
started. This day I travelled quietly, abjuring
all intoxicants, and safely reached Gravesend.
Here a popular riot arose as I was disappearing
from the public gaze within the portals of a
ninepenny ‘ tea-and-srimp ’ room, my umbrella
was torn to atoms, and every trace of it dis
appeared, as the crowd tore, fought, bit, and
plunged over the remnants of the dismantled
frame, as the bones and handle floated to and fro
over the sea of flushed and angiy faces. Like the
traveller of the Russian’ steppes, I divested my
self of my clothing, and expended all to assuage
the popular fury. But the subscriptions poured
in apace, and I was easily enabled to send off
post-haste for another umbrella, while I rigged
myself up in some clothes furnished from the
famous fashion-books representing forty distin
guished personages. I chose Bearton.
“So on to town next day. More cheering,
more hands, more faces, more flags, till the eye
was dazzled and the brain benumbed in gazing.
How can I tell of all the invitations, the speeches,
the dinners, the kindness, the subscriptions that
awaited me ? I was bidden to a festival at the
Crystal Palace, lunched in the diving-bell of the
Polytechnic, had supper in the East India
Museum, and surveyed the National Gallery by
torchlight. The time I spent in the gaudy,
aesthetic metropolis may be reckoned amongst
the most gay, the most jolly, the most exciting
of an eminently gay, jolly, and exciting experi
ence—marred but by one instance—the fly in the
treacle-tub, the unbidden guest at the marriage
feast—a circumstance to which metaphor will not
do justice. Mr. Gladstone pressed on me a copy
of his Vatican pamphlet, gorgeously bound. I
slept not for some days afterwards, my mind was
unhinged, and my liquors forsaken. Not until I
returned to Coomassie—'beloved home of my
adoption !—did I entirely recover the blow to my
system.”
�I
THE FIJIAD; OR,
72
®be
CtnrteentD
I
t
(Entertainment
r OU have given me a great amount of in,J formation respecting your political insti
tution ; and as everybody seems agreed that the
only way to make Fiji great and happy is for it
to imitate England as closely as possible, and as
my paper is to be the organ of advanced ideas, I
should very much like to know by what mode
you select the men who are entrusted with the
direction of public affairs. Before I return to my
beloved country I may have an opportunity of
visiting your Houses of Parliament, and seeing
your great chiefs in council; but, in the mean
time, I should be so glad if you would give me a
little insight into your Parliamentary system.”
Such were the artless remarks of Fijitee when,
supper having been discussed, the party were
gathered in attitudes of unstudied elegance
around the festive board.
“A very laudable spirit inspires your curiosity,
my illustrious friend,” said McSnuff, “ and if you
like to set apart one evening for the purpose, I
will prepare some very interesting extracts from
‘ Delolme on the Constitution,’ ‘ Dod’s Par
liamentary Guide,’ reports presented by com
mittees, and really a most interesting collection
of papers ordered by Parliament to be printed, a
few volumes of Hansard’s ‘ Parliamentary De
bates,’ and a dozen or two of articles in the
Daily News."
“ Bother ! ” interrupted Brown son ; “I will put
our friend Fijitee up to all he -wants to know in a
few minutes. You’d Bluebook him to death, you
abominable old Scotchman, if we didn’t take care
of him! Go to sleep, if you like; and you, my dear
Fijitee, keep your ears open to wisdom. This is
my method of telling you all about it. Let’s
suppose that you, or some other lively foreigner,
were visiting the Houses of Parliament, with an
intelligent guide—a person of most extensive
knowledge and agreeable manners, who knows
everybody, and does not object to refreshment—
say, for the sake of argument, myself; and he
would explain to you, something in this style,
the mystery of—
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTA INMEN TS.
The ''''Ins" and the “Outs.”
Ljf'HE clock of St. Stephen’s was striking eight,
'«J And fierce grew the strife in the Council of
State,
As a foreigner, guided by Lambeth’s elect,
With nostril dilated and form erect,
Glanced haughtily round on the people’s kings
And asked of his guide, amongst other things,
Why so many crowned heads devoid of state
Were banded together to legislate,
When one, he opined, with less trouble could do
The work of six-hundred-and-fifty-two ?
And this the more clearly, since speeches and strife
Appe-ared to absorb quite two-thirds of each life,
Whilst the balance remaining for real legislation
Was a pitiful part to give to the nation.
So much wisdom and pluck in a savage allied
Were pleasing indeed to his guardian’s pride;
He smiled and glowed with great delight,
As thus he answered the savage wight;—
“ Your words reflect a noble mind
Endowed with penetration,
And, if the truth you fail to find,
’Tis want of education.
“ ’Tis not the structure of our laws
For which this strife is weighed,
Our passions own a simpler cause—
By whom they shall be made !
“ Opinions merely are the lever
Employed with this in view;
Hence the fury and the fever
Which last the Session through.”
These simple truths did so entrance
The stranger’s noble soul,
That right and left his furtive glance
Full restlessly did roll.
And so it happed he soon did find
To what the Right did say,
The Left, as governed by one mind,
Would always argue—-nay !
And when, perchance, a strange accord
Relieved the stormy scene,
Some Ishmaelite from out the horde
Revived the battle keen.
3
And such a one he soon espied hurtling left and
right,
Sparing neither friends nor foes, erratic in his
flight;
Essaying independence, yet guided by one aim—
Amid contending factions, to found a mighty
name.
Ben Dizzj' was his prototype ; the fact he ill concealed,
And in that one allusion lies his policy revealed.
A scathing tongue, a ready wit he lavishly employed,
Upon the havoc that he wrought his hopes of
place were buoyed;
Nor was his high ambition defrauded of its ends,
For this dread knight’s allegiance was purchased
by his friends ;
And soon a high appointment rewarded all his
bouts;
And he was numbered with the “ Ins ” to laftse
into the “ Outs.”
The noble savage was impressed
With this most patent fact,
That politicians, worst or best,
Will for their interest act.
Then from the gloomy concourse of “ Outs,”
Which surged on the Speaker’s left,
A statesman of sixty or thereabouts,
Of speech periphonetic but deft,
Began to descant, with didactic force
Of a highly rhetorical flavour,
On the infinite evil of any one course
Save the three which were blessed with his
favour.
His fame it was great, for his measures were bold—
So bold they had lost him his place;
And stamped on his front was the record which
told
Of his bitter and recent disgrace.
Yet his deeds with the “ Ins” had ’stablished his
name
As a friend both of mansion and garret,
For had he not widened his sounding fame
By cheap’ning the duty on claret ?
The Irish landlords he set by the ears
With their tenants, the unfortunate louts ;
Yet had not his daring awakened our fears
He might never have been with the “Outs.”
�74
THE FIJIAD; OR,
He rose to affirm, with most copious effusion,
That the source of all Ritual’s Art,
And, with logical force, he educed the Conclusion
That of this the first is but a part;
To weaken a part is to weaken the whole—
A charmingly trite proposition—
And better steer clear of the censer and stole
Than disturb such a healthy position.
To him a ready tongue replied,
Which vexed his spleen, for when he tried
Stern Lancashire to woo,
This daring soul had seized his place,
And sent him with a rueful face
Some other work to do ;
Yet cruel fate this one betrayed,
And (though he was not soon dismayed)
Had placed him in a post
Where skilful parts are no avail,
And never will nor could prevail
To make success a boast.
His was the great pragmatic sphere ; '
His hardest task the charge of beer—
A heritage of pain !
For licensed victuallers served the needs
Of “ Ins ” and “ Outs,” whose rival deeds
Are their eternal bane.
And in the strife they’re roughly used,
So pelted, battered, and abused
They scarce can know their name;
So pounded by their country’s kings,
So harassed by their bargainings,
They have no rights to claim.
But the House is expectant and bored,
Ben Dizzy !
And sighs for your sparkling wit!
A leery twinkle lights your eye
And yet you do not speak—oh fie !
Have you not got a shaft or a random hit
That the “ Outs ” you may twit ?
So provokingly placid and silent you sit!
Were a seer to read on thy brow,
Ben Dizzy!
The scheme you so deftly conceal,
He might easily know
You are planning the blow
Which your foe so shortly will feel,
Poor chiel!
His dread Resolutions he scarce shall reveal!
You’ve had a brilliant career,
Ben Dizzy !
But a very long night with the “ Outs ; ”
With notable pluck
To your party you’ve stuck,
Reforming its views, and removing its doubts,
By reason and flouts,
Till it scarcely can trace its old whereabouts !
Protection you nursed and buried,
Ben Dizzy!
It was not your fault that it died;
But ’twas deucedly clever
To pretend that you never
Its life to perpetuate tried
Ere it died,
And confounded the party to which you’re allied!
You’ve made many a hit in your time,
Ben Dizzy!
For your wit is sententious and keen ;
But oh ! you were sage
When you spoke of the age
As the study for all who really mean
To serve the Queen !
’Twas the key to your life, Ben Dizzy, I ween.
Ben Dizzy he moved not, but Fawcett was there,
And Fawcett had always some words to spare ;
And the stranger he craned his neck to behold
The champion of crotchets his views unfold ;
But little he heard save severe declamation
Of Church and its evangelization,
And much he marvelled, as time flew past,
And the bounds of contention kept wid’ning fast,
To see that the “Ins” and the “Outs” had
forgotten
The priests, over whom all the strife was be
gotten !
And now ’twas not Ritual made all the pother:
Both sides were engaged in accusing each other.
The stranger, enamoured of prompt legislation,
Was wholly amazed at this manifestation,
And suggested, most naively, the House should
be cleared,
That one might determine the cause which
appeared
Consistent with right. But his Mentor replied,
Though the foreigner’s sapience could not be
denied,
That the clash of opinions had nothing to do,
As already remarked, with the Bill in review;
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
That the “ Ins ” and the “ Outs ” only spoke for
the press,
Which published harangues in an elegant dress,
And thus all the people in England can see
Which party in power is worthy to be !
The savage was tickled, and .broadly grinned
At this lesson of civilization,
And was quickly stopped before he sinned,
By a hearty cachination.
A hoary head now joined the fray,
Who’d proved a failure in his day
As guardian of the purse;
Who was up to many knowing tricks—
Could show that eight were only six,
With juggles even worse.
His motto was known, though never beheld,
For he carried it not like the knights of eld,
On ’scutcheon or on vellum.
He designed that something simpler should
bear
A motto at once so pithy and rare
As ‘ ‘ Ex luce lucellum / ’ ’
In former days he had stoutly inveighed
Against the lowest strata of trade
In many bitter passes,
And roundly had he been abused
For having civil rights refused
To all the working classes.
How subtly could he now avenge
His wrongs, and have a sweet revenge
Upon each perpetrator 1
If ev’ry hind were forced to bear
That motto with him ev’rywhere,
What chast’ning could be greater ?
And so it was that Bethnal Green
Was one day seized with a fit of the spleen
On hearing the dread proposition,
That matches henceforth should pay a tax,
And the boxes should bear upon their backs
The motto of the magician 1
It failed. The noblest schemes have failed 1
Another yet remained,
Whereby some juggling was entailed,
But credit’was sustained.
The first connoisseurs in sleight-of-hand
Are ready to confess,
That tricks the hardest to understand
Are easy to profess;
75
And such was the trick that he performed
With his budgets ev’ry year,
When surpluses for ever swarmed,
The nation’s heart to cheer.
To the foreigner’s observant mind
It seemed most wondrous strange,
That the only one whom the stormy wind
Did neither disturb nor derange
*
Was the potentate in the chair of state,
Whom ev’ry speaker addressed,
Who received all the torrent of wrath on his
pate,
Yet never a word did suggest.
Quoth the guide, “He’s the speaker who never
speaks,
Who must hear, but who may never feel;
On whom ev’ry zealot his fury wreaks,
And to whom the aggriev’d may appeal—■
A vicarious victim of passion—strange, yet noble
use !
A filter where heated rhetoric is stripped of all
abuse.”
Then some one began to show this dark man
The other lights who had not yet spoken :
The Devonshire squire who’d filched his fire
From the radical chief ere their union was
broken,
Who sugar had freed from the custom’s greed
With many a bold remission;
But whose stainless name had suffered in fame
At the Washington Commission.
And Goschen was there denouncing the chair,
Though uncommonly pale in the face,
For his sick’ning sail in the Channel gale
On his features had left its trace.
On the portly frame of a well-known name
The visitor now did gaze—
Of one who ne’er swerved from the class he had
served
In earlier manhood’s days ;
Who, though possessed of talents great,
Quite lacked the statesman’s soul,
For his scheme of action was to better a fraction
At the entire expense of the whole 1
A reformer he saw who inspired much awe
’Mongst the friends of the fleet, for, they say,
That striving to save he performed on the navy,
And nearly improved it away.
�................... .. ..........
FIJIAD; OR,
And thafjocund knight, who never was tight,
Who could prove to a plain brick wall,
That the only way to make drunkards reform
Was to stop the world drinking at all !
And that graver wight who was full of spite
Against all he could not understand,
And, being quite ignorant what all the convents
meant,
Wanted them swept from the land.
The impetuous Hardy who never was tardy
Assaulting or filling a breach—
The true incarnation of the pluck of the nation,
Whose heart none so deftly could reach.
Henley, the wise, whose wisdom ne’er flies
Into the region of passion ;
And Dilke, the ambitious, whose chosen career
Is a resolute onslaught on fashion 1
The sad one from Leic’ster who doth con
stantly pester
The “ Ins ” with his gibes at the Crown ;
And the statesman who thinks you should never
restrict
An evil you cannot put down.
The foreigner, transported to the Lords,
Most rashly did surmise,
That as the war of angry words
Less loudly did arise,
And so much mild decorum
Reigned upon the scene,
’Twas in this grander forum
Real business would be seen ;
That “Ins” and “Outs,” in fact, might
please
Their phantasies below,
’Twas here that he would find the grease
Which makes the state coach go 1
Alas ! th’ ingenuous savage was wrong
In his hasty calculation :
Though, perhaps, more subdued, it was just the
same song
Of reproach and extenuation.
Courtly Granville, quite gaily,
Was affirming that daily
When he was an “ In ” ’twas to no avail he
Had on the “ Outs ” so often impress’d
That Concession alone was the haven of rest;
That the more England yielded the more she was
blessed ;
A.
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
That the promptings of pride
We must all lay aside,
’Twas not on such instincts that he had relied ;
That to give what was asked disarmed every foe,
Whilst the gift should be managed with tact,
that so
The public alone the act should not know.
A dashing earl answered, with many a quip,
With scorn in his eye and a curl of the lip,
That a doctrine denounced at the recent election
Should, surely, have filled its best friends with
dejection;
That was when by feeble concessions averted
As only postponed, but never deserted;
That the national honour’s a high price to pay
For th’ ephemeral triumphs of a day ;
That the creed, in short, was utterly wrong,
And hadn’t maintained its professors long ;
And that in his place he meant to stick
By trying some diff’rent kind of trick.
A noble lord, of recent creation,
The cabby’s quondam foe,
Who’d tried his hand at legislation
In the House below,
Amongst the “ Outs ” in grandeur sat—
A very Daniel he—
With sundry labels in his hat
Preserved most tenderly,
Which he so sagely had designed
That every cab should bear,
Which had long been a solace to his mind
And to his mem’ry dear.
When the visitor asked of one of the “ Ins ”
Why this lord was made a peer,
Whose services unto the State
Were, to his mind, not clear,
He was told ’twas a way with the “ Ins ” and
the “ Outs ”
To reward the best servants of faction,
And that men who submitted to party knouts
Were far better than “ men of action ; ”
77
That serving the State was a doubtful phrase,
For no two men concurred in its meaning,
Whilst serving a party was sure to win praise
From all of identical leaning.
The foreigner yawned, for the hour grew late,
And at home they go to bed before eight,
So a parting glance he cast
At the bench where the moody Stanley sate,
Frowning so fiercely beneath his hat,
And through the lobby past.
Next morn to his native land he wrote,
Conveying his views, in a very nice note,
Of the British Council of State ;
But, as his strange, outlandish tongue
Is highly unpleasant, spoken or sung,
Its purport we’ll translate :—
“ In England all the laws are made
By 1 Ins ’ and ‘ Outs,’
Who sit on each side of the Parliament Hall,
And endeavour to smother one another
With constant talk as in turn they bawl,
Which debating they call,
So that night after night they do nothing at all!
The ‘ Ins ’ are the rulers, and work to maintain
Their place.
The ‘ Outs ’ were the rulers, and ceaselessly strive
To get in again,
So they loudly complain
Of the deeds of the ‘ Ins,’ who just keep alive
(They never can thrive)
In the contest that’s waged at their posts to
arrive.
The people elect, by the right they’ve acquired,
Both 'Ins ’ and ‘ Outs ; ’
But when each has been chosen, it’s always
agreed
That no claim is preferr’d
On the power conferr’d,
And that all may indulge their greed
Or their need,
And on national wants bestow little heed.”
�78
THE FIJIAD; OR,
dFourteentD Nigljrg Entertainment.
AM rather tired of party politics,” said
Fijitee. “ Suppose this evening we pay a
little attention to the historical literature of your
great country ? I borrowed a book to-day relating
a portion of the history of England, but it stopped
short suddenly. I read a few pages ; it was very
striking and picturesque.”
“ Oh,” said Smith, “ of course we all know the
book. Splendid contribution to literature. All
short sentences, only five semicolons in the whole
work. It is the great work, the magnus ofius
to which the illustrious author of the ‘ Lays of
Ancient Rome ’ devoted the last years of his
life.”
“What’s that about ancient rum?” said
McSnuff, suddenly waking up ; “how many years
in bottle ? ”
“ Shut up, Caledonian,” was the uncivil reply.
“ I was about to say that the great writer slightly
mistook the scale on which he projected his history. It would have made about eighty large
volumes, and occupied three hundred years in
its production. So, Fijitee, he didn’t do it.”
“ I have had some thoughts of continuing it,”
said Johnson. “ Mac’s was a capital style,
Wanted just a few artistic touches here and there ;
but, bless you, he was dreadfully jealous of interference, and^ never even asked me to look at
a proof. I have just written a chapter, and will
ask you, gentlemen, upon your honour and authenticity, if it isn’t rather better—more graphic, you
know, and fill that sort of thing—than the model.”
“ If you have anything to read,” sternly remarked Omnium, “read it, and no nonsense.”
The rebuke was felt, and, without farther preface, Johnson proceeded to read:—
:
i
|
1
|
|
|
I
|
|
|
|
j
j
j
»
j
j
I
Second Class-ics for English Riders :
A Myth of the Midland.
1
'vPHE close of the year 1874 marked a noticeable |
period in the history of this country. Par- I
liament had adjourned. The splendid eloquence
of Smith, rich in the varied metaphors and sono
rous cadences he had acquired at Mile End and
Hoxton, no longer incited the Speaker and
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
Seijeant-at-Arms to peaceful slumbers in the
historic chamber of St. Stephen. Jones had
exchanged the proud position of leader of the
Opposition to the appropriation of the parish
pump for a life of dignified seclusion at Brighton.
In the Aquarium he consoled himself by watching
the gambols of the lobsters for the absence of the
applause which followed the thunders of his
rhetoric. Brown was, for a few weeks, silent.
Robinson—the hero of popular admiration, whose
features, radiant with patriotism and public
dinners, the delicate pencil of the great master
of the day, Snooks, had preserved for the admi
ration of posterity—was in his study absorbed
in collecting materials for his great work on the
history of the republican vestry of St. Pancras.
An event of great interest had marked the
latter portion of the year. An infant Prince had
been christened; and it was observed with grati
fication by the Tories and Protestants that, when
carried to the font, he wore the same nightcap
which the young members of the Royal house for
several generations had worn when they were
admitted into the Church. There were dark
rumours afloat that the venerable primate- who
performed the ceremony had not himself
been baptized ; and, although the scandal was
disproved, the pamphleteers of the day were not
slow to take advantage of the unfounded state
ment, and assert that the old nightcap was worn
by the royal infant as a demonstration of attach
ment to ancient usages. It was said that the
prelate showed some signs of trepidation when
he took the infant in his arms, and regarded the
old cap with an expression of astonishment,
which the Jesuits readily interpreted to mean that
he thought a new one might have been provided,
and that his attachment to antique customs was
not beyond suspicion. .
The august Empress, who shared the throne of
the great Muscovite autocrat, and who was the
maternal grandmother of the young Prince, re
ceived a telegram on the following day in Paris.,
saying that he had noticed a large dog which had
come into the room where the young mother was
smiling on her babe. The important intelligence
was communicated to the foreign ambassadors
and the correspondents of the great journals.
The bourses of Antwerp and Vienna were agitated,
79
and English Eupion Gas shares experienced a
fluctuation.
In the provinces there was excitement. En
couraged by a long series of successes, the barons
and the country gentlemen exhibited a spirit of
intolerance towards the class lower in the social
scale. A baronet of one of the northern shires
made vigorous speeches against the vendors of
gin and fourpenny ale. Excited by his eloquence,
a number of enthusiasts emulated the devoted
spirit of the Middle Ages. The Templars were
revived. The members of the new sect adopted
the epithet “Good” before the name of the
order they imitated. They held meetings. They
exhibited the teapot they had chosen as their
emblem. They were reviled and invited to
liquor-up. But they were steadfast to tea and
ginger-beer, 'and the breach between them and
those who adhered to the drink which had
quenched the thirst of the ardent Englishmen
who had shouted for Fox at the Westminster
election, and cheered the Claimant when he
appealed to the British public, was widened.
The spirit of resistance to old customs was
shown in other directions. A farmer near
Maidenhead was bumped on the occasion of
beating the bounds. He complained, brought
an action, and recovered damages. Women who,
in the days when the British Constitution was
more respected, were kicked with impunity,
appealed to the country justices, and the justices
inflicted imprisonment and stripes on the hus
bands. .Everywhere ancient customs were inter
fered with, and everywhere there was a feeling
strongly felt, if not loudly expressed, that the
“ upper ten,” as the titled classes were styled in
the political pamphlets of the day, were endea
vouring to regain the ascendency they enjoyed
before William of Orange 'came into possession
of half a crown.
Such was the time chosen by the great states
man who had disestablished one Church to hurl
a stone at another. He published a pamphlet, in
which he denied the right of the representatives
of the long line of Pontiffs who have reigned in the
city of the seven hills to control the consciences
of cabmen in respect to the number of miles
they charged for, and to interfere with the alle
giance of parish beadles to the vestries they
�So
THE FIJIAD; OR,
served. Millions of copies of the pamphlet were
sold, and it was translated into Welsh and
Chinese, and the beautiful guttural language in
which the Finlander whispers his tale of love.
The journals of the time were filled with letters
from dignitaries holding comfortable and almost
sinecure appointments, declaring that, although
they had the most implicit belief in the doctrines
attacked, they would not for a moment waver in
their loyalty to the salaries they enjoyed. The
spirit of England was aroused. It was the
muttering before the storm.
To counteract the popular enthusiasm, a con
spiracy was entered into, which might have led
to results most disastrous to the country if the
piercing glance of Mr. Cream Valley, member for
Ortonborough, had not descried the danger. He
had long warned the Commons House of Parlia
ment against the machinations of the Jesuits, but
in vain. The country reposed in a fancied secu
rity. He endeavoured to arouse it to a sense of
the latent insecurity. He pointed out, in language
of a vigorous, if somewhat sombre, cast, that the
Jesuits adulterated milk, raised the price of coals,
obtained employment for their agents and crea
tures as rate-collectors and turncocks, and were
the real authors of the address delivered at the
opening of the session of the British Society for the
Botheration of Science, which had so alarmed the
thoughtful portion of the community. Mr. Valley
watched the movements of the leaders of the con
spiracy, and his vigilance was the cause that only
two great developments of the carefully-arranged
plot are left for the historian to record.
In the north-western part of the metropolis is a
suburb much affected by the opulent and luxurious
classes. Lorenzo de Medici, had he been a Lon
doner, would have selected it for his residence.
There the arts of painting and music dwelt side by
side. There the votary of the pictorial art pro
duced the masterpieces which, hung in the saloons
of Piccadilly, attracted the notice and admiration
of wealthy patrons from Manchester and Birming
ham. The wits of the time there prepared and
polished the epigrammatic sallies, afterwards to
delight the readers of the Sunday papers, and the
audiences who crowded the theatres to listen to
dialogues surpassing those of Sheridan in wit and
repartee. Gifted musicians there composed the
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
airs, afterwards played with a hundred variations
by wandering musicians who belied the artistic
hospitality of their country, for, while England
gave a home to Handel, they turned their handles
out of doors. A canal, w'anting only the gondolas
of Venice and the melodious singing by the
gondoliers of the patriotic verses of.Tasso, to recall
I the memories of the marvels of the Adriatic,
flowed through the charming district. Near it
were collected, in a spacious and delightful gar
den, strange beasts from all the quarters of the
globe—elephants which. Hyder Ali might have
ridden on in state cavalcades in Mysore, and
kangaroos which Montezuma, amidst the glories
of his superb palace near Potocapetl, would have
in vain desired to possess.
Into this peaceful home of the arts, nestling
between the lofty summit of the hill of primroses
and the arena where the champions of cricket
hurled the ball and wielded the bat which made
remote Australia marvel at their powers, the
strange activity of the Jesuits penetrated. It was
part of their design to destroy first the arts which
made our country illustrious, and then the aristo
cracy which gave dignity to our institutions. In
that way they would avenge the Vatican, against
which the great statesman had directed his
pamphlet.
At early morn a tremendous explosion shook
all London. A thousand panes of glass were
shattered. Gems of plastic art, moulded by re
fugees from sunny Italy, who, in the retirement
of the Saffron Hill, remembered the artistic
glories of the city of Michael Angelo, were broken
ji
into fragments. The metropolis was alarmed. Ru
mours of the vaguest kind were afloat. It was
¡b
hinted that Dr. Queernearly had engaged Fenian
fc
bravoes to blow up Millbank and release the
r
Claimant. Some thought that Bismarck had
>■ come; some that the Tower guns had "gone
) ■ off ” of their own accord. Mr. Valley alone dis>.
cerned the secret of the explosion. The Jesuits
L
had caused it, hoping that the British Lion would
escape from the Zoological Gardens, and the
nation would once more kiss the foot of the
modern Hildebrand.
I
Baffled in their intention by the acuteness
. and patriotism of Valley, they entered into a yet
J*
more atrocious conspiracy. They would abolish
i
I
■ 81
the aristocracy. They would break down the
lines of demarcation between the caste of Vere
de Vere and the lower orders. The English people
have a passion for travelling by railway. The
wealthy nobles share it. They ride proudly and
exclusively in first-class carriages, and so assert
their supremacy. The Jesuits resolved to destroy
them. They would never, it was argued, survive
if they could no longer ride alone, untouched by
the meaner elements of society. A railway com
pany listened to the insidious proposition. It
was necessary to conceal, for a time, the exact
nature of the conspiracy. The directors held a
meeting to carry out the design. They chose a
spot singularly well-adapted to the purpose. It
was at Derby that the young Pretender halted on
his march, the reluctance of the Scotch to go
back again having been for once in abeyance.
It was from Derby that 'an eminent cabinet
minister took his title. It was Derby that gave
name to the great race which yearly collects
such a concourse of spectators as the stadia of
Corinth never witnessed at the celebration of the
Isthmian games. The connexion between these
historic associations and railway fares must be
obvious to all. The directors announced that
they intended to abolish the second-class car
riages. It was a subterfuge characteristic of the
Jesuitical mind. The real object was to compel
the first-class passengers—the delicate beauty of
the drawing-room, the dainty aristocrat of Hurlingham, the venerable noble, the descendant of a
long line of blue-blooded patricians—to ride in the
same carriages^-with the tradesmen who made
their boots, the princes of Shoddy-land, the deft
weavers of calico, and the bagmen who tra
velled with their wares. The pride of the patricians
would be humbled, the exclusiveness of caste
destroyed, and the Jesuits would control the
councils of the nation.
The firm attitude of Valley inspired c'onfidence.
The end is not yet come. We are not yet trodden
beneath the feet of the proud conqueror. The
pamphlet is our bulwark. The New Zealander
is already here in lodgings in the Borough of
Southwark, but St. Paul’s is not yet in ruins.
Our ancient nobility, in the tranquil security of Pull
man’s sleeping-cars, smile haughtily at the failure
of the plot which Valley detected and exposed.
6
I
�THE FIJIAD; OR,
jFiftmW JKigStEntertainment.
HQ NE subject, my dear Fijitee,” said Brownson, “has not yet been touched on, and it
is of considerable, almost overpowering, interest to
the fairer half of the population of Great Britain.
I am sure you would wish to be well acquainted
with the fashions in costumes, so that you may
contribute to the columns of your paper in Fiji
articles which cannot fail to be attractive to the
ladies ®f that most interesting appendage to the
British empire, especially as—forgive me, my
dear sir—it seems probable that the subject of
any costume at all has not hitherto occupied
much of their attention. They will of course, now
that their charming country is a portion of the
British empire, desire to adopt the manners and
customs of their new sisters, and, as I was
remarking to the Duchess of Badminton only the
other day—and the remark was entirely concurred
in by the Countess of Croquet, who is so very clever
and witty that she invariably agrees in any ob
servation I make—it is really the duty of English
ladies to take steps to make the Fijian beauties
acquainted with the latest modes, or else they
would look positively frightful on the occasion of
a presentation at Court, or anything of that kind.
Of course, the institutions of civilization, the
opéra bouffé, and so forth, will soon be accepted
in Fiji, and then the modiste (not “ modest,” my
dear Fijitee, that adjective has very little to do
with opéras bouffés) will be an important per
sonage. I would advise you, therefore, to study
the publications devoted to the modes, and you
will find that you will be able to make your paper
much more attractive.”
“ I know,” said Fijitee, diffidently, “ that I am
as yet very ignorant of many of the customs of
highly civilized countries, and am no doubt slow to
receive the instruction I ought to obtain from
observation. But is it a fact that dress occupies
so much of the attention of your countrywomen ?
They always look very charming, but I think I
admire the faces more than the costumes.”
“ I don’t wish to Offend you, old boy,” replied
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
Brownson, “but you are evidently still in the dark
ness of semi-barbarism. The dress is everything.
Many of my countrywomen think of scarcely any
thing else. They talk about it, read about it,
spend all the money they can scrape and save on
it, and, I- think, dream about it. The shops where
dr-esses are sold are the largest and handsomest
in the world. Publishers start newspapers and
publications expressly for the reading of the
ladies, and at least three-fourths of the contents
relate to dress and dress materials, fashion, fancy
work, and ornaments. Bless you, we should think
we did not understand human nature, if we sup
posed ladies wanted to read about anything else ;
but, betwreenyou and me, I should not be surprised
if we sometimes made a mistake. It is just pos
sible, you know, that, in the effort to please some
of the most frivolous, we overlook the taste and
opinions of a great many of the better sort.
Women, Fijitee—you are a bachelor, at present,
but you won’t be one long if you stay in this
country, with your fascinating manner and agree
able appearance, old man—are dear creatures in
their nature when you come to know them, and,
no doubt, it is the fault of the education some of
them have received that they are content to be
dolls and costume-dummies instead of the true,
kind-hearted, genuine creatures Nature intended
them to be.”
“ I have a theory on the subject,” interposed
Omnium. “ I think the desire to dress attrac
tively, and the intense devotion to the subject,
arises from the natural diffidence of the female
character, deficiency in what phrenologists name
the organ of self-esteem. They desire very
rationally and naturally to please men and to be ■
admired by them, but they do not know how at
tractive and loveable they can be ; they distrust
themselves and suppose that they must dress
showily and expensively, otherwise men would
not value them. It is a very great mistake. I
am sure some of the prettiest and most attractive
women I have ever seen in my life—ah! and the
best dressed, too—were those whose dress cost
least, but the neatness and simplicity of their
costume lent an unobtrusive charm to their
natural grace. I tell you what it is, gentlemen, I
am not a marrying man, but a pleasant smile and
a gentle voice have more than once tempted me to
«3
reconsider my view of life ; but I have remained
perfectly armed against sentimentality amid bevies
of the most brilliantly and expensively costumed
beauties to be seen in Paris or London. I think
I could enjoy domestic life, Fijitee, if I met the
dear creature to whom I could say, in the words
of the poet—
“ ‘ Oh, woman, in our hours of ease,
You warm our slippers, make our teas;
When short finances wring the brow,
An inexpensive angel thou ! ’ ”
“ It is a peculiarity of our friend’s constitution,”
said Brownson, kindly, “ that whisky, partaken
of at short intervals, induces a tendency to undue
sentimentality. I wouldn’t mind him, if I were
you, Fijitee. What he has said will be worked up
for a leader, next week.”
“And if he wants a subject,” remarked
Smith, “ I can supply him with one. Not that a
particular subject is of much importance, for we
all know, Omnium, that if you set to work to
write a leader about dress, or anything of that
sort, you would most likely begin with Peter the
Great, or a rhinoceros, or. Count de Grammont;
and end in the boundless prairie. But if you do
want a hint or two, you will find them in my report
of an important meeting just held at the West
End for the purpose of establishing a School of
Cheap Costume, where, under the tuition of
competent teachers, ladies may learn the
art of dressing attractively without ruining their
husbands or fathers with exorbitant milliners’
bills.”
“Is it possible,” exclaimed Fijitee, “that suth
a scheme is practicable, and that ladies can be
persuaded to study the art? That is really almost
the most astonishing thing I have heard since I
came to this country.”
“It is quite possible,” said Smith, “and, in
deed, I brought the report with me, thinking it
would make an interesting contribution to our
Nights’ Entertainments, besides giving you,
Fijitee, information which you could never have
obtained otherwise.”
Everybody agreed that it was a most interest
ing subject, and accordingly Smith read his
report of the meeting held for the purpose of
establishing—
�§4
THE FIJIAD; OR,
Madame Panier-Poil/''s School of
Cheap Costume.
MEETING was held a few evenings back
for the purpose of taking into considera
tion the best means of alleviating the distress under
which many highly estimable heads of families
were now labouring, in consequence of the exces
sive amount of money expended by their wives
and grown-up daughters in the purchase of cos
tumes, millinery, and other articles.of female
adornment. The large room was densely crowded
immediately the doors were opened, and numbers
were unable to obtain admittance. The chair
was taken by Pate R. Familias, Esq., and on the
platform were many gentlemen well-known in
business circles. There were also several ladies
who appeared much interested in the proceed
ings ; and in the body of the hall about twenty
ladies, who had combined to obtain seats in the
front row, and who appeared determined to oppose
the object of the meeting. Among them we re
cognized several well-known costumiers, and
some gentlemen who sat near them, and appeared
to be on very friendly terms with them, were
identified as being interested in some of the
fashionable drapery establishments of the metro
polis.
The Chairman, in opening the proceedings,
said that he need not occupy much time with the
object of the large gathering he had the pleasure
of addressing—it was sufficiently explained in the
circular convening the meeting. He felt the
overpowering importance of the subject, and he
knew that many of the gentlemen around him
shared his feelings. The expense of ladies’
dress was preposterous, appalling, overwhelming.
It amounted to a national calamity, and must
produce a catastrophe unless prompt measures
were adopted to diminish it. He did not presume
to say how that object could best be effected.
The difficulties in the way were almost insur
mountable. There were prejudices to be over
come, the antagonism of vested—might he be
permitted to say, petticoated—-interests to be
encountered. He had given great attention to
the subject; he had tried persuasion, but had
had his feelings deeply wounded ; had, in short,
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
been told to “ mind his own business.” (Voice
from the body of the hall, “Very proper too ! ”)
Was it not his business ? he asked; the business
of every man who had a wife and daughters ? What
he wanted to know was, why such a lot of ma
terial was wanted to make a dress ? What was
the use of trains ? How would he, or any other
gentleman look, if his coat-tails dragged a yard
or more upon the ground, or if he tucked them up
into a bunch behind, and called it a panier ? He
thought he should want two panniers, and they
all knew what animal it was that went about
between panniers. (Laughter and derisive cheers.)
He had asked ladies of his acquaintance why
they spent so much on their dress ? and he would
tell the meeting what answers he had received.
One said, “Because we choose to, there!”
Another replied, “ I’m sure we’re not going to
make frights of ourselves to please you ; ” and
an elderly lady, who, really, as a wife and the
mother of four daughters, ought to have known
better, told him that she thought it was very im
proper for gentlemen to say anything about such
a subject. What did they know about dress ?
she should like to know. He remembered the
crinoline time, when twenty breadths of silk were
commonly used in one skirt, and he had hoped
that when that fashion went out dressmakers’ bills
would be reduced ; but his expectation was vain.
By some means or other, which he could not ex
plain, although the costumes now worn appear to be
almost as scanty in 'the skirt as the ball-dresses
of their mothers in the time of the Regency, just as
many yards of material were used, or, at least,
the dresses cost quite as much. He appealed to
the gentlemen present, whether the time had not
arrived for them to endeavour to obtain some
relief from the ruinous tyranny of fashion ?
Ladies, he was sorry to say, were quite unreason
able in respect to this subject. They expected
their husbands to pay rates and taxes, send the
children to school, provide money for annual trips
to the seaside and evening parties, insure their
lives, and keep up a good house, yet showed very
little anxiety to help him by curtailing their per
sonal expenditure on dress. He did not deny that
they sometimes exhibited economical tendencies.
He had been himself told that he ought not to
wear white waistcoats, because they were expen
ds
sive, as adding to the washing bill. He was
rather fond of white waistcoats, and felt the
remark acutely. He knew that some ladies were
anxious to reduce domestic expenses. He had
known an instance. of a lady going to a Co
operative Association, and saving ninepence in
the purchase of soap, candles, and boxes of
matches—-the cab-fare there and back only
amounting to four shillings. He could mention
other instances, such as giving away a husband’s
dress-coat and patent-leather boots fora geranium,
value sixpence; but he did not wish to dwell on
such cases. Ladies were not actually without
proper ideas of economy, even in respect of dress,
and he had heard some very sensible remarks
made by them in reference to other people. It was
not uncommon for Mrs. Smith to say she was
sure Mrs. Jones could not afford that bonnet she
had on in church ; or that it was positively shock
ing that Mrs. Brown should have another new
dress; but they did not apply their principles to
themselves. He was, however, happy to say that
an effort was about to be made to remedy the
evil. A very distinguished lady, Madame PanierPouf, who had been one of the leading costumiers
at the West End, had seen the error of her
ways, and had determined to lead the movement
for reform in dress. She proposed to open
classes for the instruction of ladies in the art of
dressing charmingly at the smallest possible cost,
and her great knowledge of the subject would, he
felt sure, enable Her to render most valuable ser
vices. That lady was present, and had kindly
offered to explain her scheme for the establish
ment of the classes, and her method of instruc
tion. He had much pleasure in introducing her
to the meeting.
Madame PANIER-Pouf then came forward,
and was received with great applause. She was
very simply, but prettily, dressed, in a costume
which admirably fitted her very graceful figure,
and was made of cheap but durable materials.
(There was some suppressed tittering among the
ladies in the body of the hall, and exclamations,
“What a guy! ” anZ “Well, I never! ”) She
said that, in accordance with the request of the
Chairman, she had great pleasure in relating to
the meeting her experiences of the dress question,
and the reasons which had led her to make an
�86
THE FIJIAD; OR,
attempt to alleviate the evils which theyall deplored.
At one time she had had the management of a
very large and fashionable establishment, exten
sively patronized by ladies. Fifty, sixty, and even
eighty guineas were frequently charged for a
single costume ; and it was not uncommon for
ladies to change their toilets four or five times a
day. In veiy high society, a lady who appeared
twice in the same costume would have been “cut”
as unfit to associate with élégantes. The ladies
a step lower in society imitated the more aristo
cratic classes, and were, in their turn, imitated by
others. They obtained credit when they could
not pay cash, and many instances occurred of men
being reduced from prosperity to poverty by the
extravagance of the female members of their
families. She became uneasy in her mind, felt
that she was doing wrong in aiding such “ an un
reasonable addiction to the use of ardent dresses,”
•as a gentleman had described the irrational
pursuit of fashion, and she determined to do her
best to introduce a better state of things. The
ignorance of the female portion of the community
with respect to the very first principles of good
dressing, such as the comparative durability of
materials, the subordination of the costume to the
natural graces of face and figure, and, above all,
the best mode of producing a maximum of
prettiness at a minimum of expense, was really
lamentable. She proposed to imitate the example
of her friend, Mrs. Buckmistress, who had estab
lished a school for the purpose of teaching the
best method of peeling potatoes and making good
soup out of next to nothing. She intended to
establish a School of Cheap Costume, in which
ladies might acquire the art of making dresses
economically, a knowledge of materials, and how
to cut them to the best advantage, and make them
wear longest ; and she hoped, also, to expose the
wasteful absurdities of Joufs, trains, and other
most irrational adjuncts of costume. She also
hoped to be able to teach the students to avoid
the error of supposing that good dressing was
limited to the costumes worn on special occasions
and out of doors. A part of her system of in
struction would be to provide cheap dresses for
home-wear, so that wives and daughters would
look neat and pretty, and not untidy, at breakfast
time, and before visitors came ; and also that
underclothing should be good and serviceable,
and not neglected so that more money should be
spent on showy dresses. (Loud applause.)
A resolution, pledging the meeting to support the
scheme of Madame Panier-Pouf, was moved by—
Mr. BANCLERC, who said, as a man of moderate
income, he was greatly interested in the subject.
He anticipated great results from the establish
ment of the proposed School. He might, perhaps,
be permitted to relate an incident within his own
experience which showed what might be achieved
by a resolute attempt to stay the evil. A gentle
man, an intimate friend of his, had several
daughters, very charming young ladies, and, of
course, their parents were very desirous to see
them well established in life. Their mamma in
sisted on their being dressed in the first style of
fashion, and the father was almost driven frantic
by the appalling totals of the bills sent in by
drapers, milliners, and dressmakers. He resolved
to have a reform. He saw that the chances of
his daughters marrying were not increased by
their extravagant habits. On the contrary, eligible
young men appeared to be afraid of them. He
assumed a resolute attitude, made each of his
daughters a moderate allowance, and refused to
pay bills. At first they complained dreadfully,
tried fainting-fits and hysterics, but they were good
girls at heart, and reconciled themselves to inex
pensive dressing. They looked prettier than before,
only a quarter of the money was spent, the father
was prouder of his girls than ever, and they soon
got every one of them well married. (Applause.)
The resolution was seconded by Mr. Seevil
SERVAS CLARK and unanimously carried, and
the meeting separated, Madame Panier-Pouf
being loudly cheered as she left the platform.
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
filitfbt’#
Entertainment
HAVE received so much pleasure,” Fijitee
vil remarked, "from the interesting poems,
illustrative of the manners and customs of your
great country, which you have read, that I should
very much like to hear another. I notice that Mr.
Brownson has a bundle of papers in his coat
pocket, and, as we did not at our last night’s
meeting settle a subject for to-night’s reading,
perhaps he would oblige me by seeing if he can
not find something which shall at once interest
and instruct us ? ”
"Fijitee,” said Omnium, "that was rather
nicely put. I have great hopes of you. When Fiji
becomes the great country which you will help to
make it, you will shine in taking the chair at pub
lic meetings, conversaziones, and things of that
kind. You must work up a few quotations, and I
should not wonder if, when the Fijian University
is established, you are elected Lord Rector, and
have to deliver an inaugural address. You will
have to talk about a lot of things, old fellow, but
don’t make the mistake of understanding any of
them, or else you’ll only be thought a common
sort of man, and not a genius. But at present
I should say, you are quite up to chairman’s
mark, and would give away prizes to virtuous
cottagers who had been good enough to bring up.
a dozen children on just as many shillings a
week without coming on the poor-rates, which I
really consider to be a most heroic and patriotic
course of conduct. Positively, Fijitee, you have
acquired a really elegant style of what may be
called after-dinner oratory, and would do the loyal
and patriotic toasts capitally. The plan you have
adopted, of associating only with persons of great
intellectual powers and most refined cultivation, is
no doubt the reason of your having so rapidly
acquired these accomplishments.”
" When you have quite transacted your busi
ness in the soft-soap line, Omnium,” said Brownson, rather impatiently, " I will endeavour to
comply with the request of our Chairman. He is
quite right in supposing that I have with me a
manuscript, the production of one of our most
87
gifted writers—but there is a little mystery about
it which probably I ought to explain. The fact
is, although the subject has reference to a dis
tinguished personage of the present time, the
author has been dead about a hundred and fifty
years.”
Fijitee stared, and his chignon expanded seve
ral inches, so great was his astonishment.
" It was communicated by the aid of a medium
—you have heard, of course, Fijitee, of our spiri
tualists and their seances. I could tell you more
about them, but I know you would not believe me,
and I should be very sorry indeed if any suspicion
entered your head, from what you heard here, that
the most scrupulous adherence to the exact truth
has not invariably characterized the efforts of my
friends and myself to afford you information-and
entertainment. You have heard, more than once,
allusions to one of our most eminent statesmen,
who has recently quitted active politics for the
region of theological controversy ; and you know,
also, that he has all his life paid great attention
to the poems of an ancient Greek party, generally
known as Homer, who wrote a history of the siege
of a town named Troy. The Greeks who besieged
it had to wait ten years before they got it, and
from that circumstance the phrase, ‘Troy wait,’ is
frequently used, especially in books relating to
weights and measures. The real name of the
place was Ilion, and the king was Priam, who,
however, is not identical with the Paul Pry-am of
our traditional literature. But I am wandering from
my subject, and, as I would not for a moment
wound the susceptibilities of my friend, Omnium,
who cannot endure the idea of discursiveness, I
will only say that a medium of great powers—and
weight also, although she thinks nothing of float
ing about in the air and in and out of window—
received a communication from the spirit of an
eminent poet, whose name happened to be the •
same as the title of the venerable person who has
been attacked by the individual I have mentioned,
and who also took a great interest in the works of
the Greek poet to whom I have referred. The
result of the spiritual communication was the
poem I will read. You, probably, Fijitee, will not
notice that it is decidedly inferior to the writings
of the author when in the flesh, as I suppose you
have never heard of him before—a circumstance, ■
�88
THE FIJIAD; OR,
however, which should not be permitted to stand
in the way of your talking about him. But it is a
fact that, although the mediums have made us
acquainted with many poems communicated to
them by the spirits of very eminent writers, the
grammar is generally awful, and nobody would
suppose the verses were the production of the
authors whose names were used. With this slight
preface, I will read the poem.”
Accordingly he read—
Gladisseus in Ilion.
^Aj^THTH eyes intent the great Gladisseus
'Io mused,
Nor turned him from the volume he perused,
The tale of Troy by antique Homer told,
Of Hector valiant and Achilles bold.
His helmet stood neglected on the floor,
His radiant shield hung idle by the door—
That shield which, in the Roundabout Review,
Gladisseus with his pen so ably drew.
Great Homer’s bupt upon the table stood—
Homer much talked.’ of> - little; understood ;
Around the bust were ranged, with curious care
Gems of old Dresden, or .of Chelsea ware,
Cracked teapots, marvels of ceramic art,
Choice Faience and Palissy set apart;
For great Gladisseus, warrior of renown,
For plates and pottery ransacked the town,
Made dowagers and virtuosi stare,
Collectors, jealous, tear their scanty hair.
The chieftain spake: “ Why thus my thoughts
employ ?
Why only read about, not visit, Troy ?
Shall Schliemann search the plain where Ilion
stood,
And find, perchance, the Grecian horse of wood ;
Achilles’ arms, for which the heroes fought,
By him discovered and by Tussaud bought ?
Shame will it be if I, Gladisseus, ask
Men meaner, weaker, to achieve the task.
The task be mine ! Farewell to bust and book;
Welcome the tourist party led by Cook! ”
He closed the book, at Homer looked no more,
Sighed at the shield that hung behind the door—
And caught the train that left at half-past four.
�ENGLISH NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS.
89
With saddened brow the great Gladisseus gazed
On Ilion’s site, perplexed and amazed.
No ruined columns, relics of the time
When Priam’s famous town was in its prime;
No beauteous fragments of an antique bust,
No ancient urn enclosing classic dust.
“Is there,” he asked, “not even a cracked jar,
Reward for toil in having come so far ?
Unhappy ! more blessed for the man
Who seeks and finds Assyrian pot or pan,
Who tells of wonders buried in the ground
Which he has found—or only says has found.
Would I could see before my vision pass
Achilles, Hector, with their helms of brass ;
Or mad Cassandra, with her warnings dread
(Not Greg’s weak parody in “ Rocks Ahead ! ”)
To the sad shades I should not fear to speak,
And if they failed to understand my Greek
(A language which exactly suits my voice),
Three courses would be open to my choice—
To speak, be silent, or to make a sign,
And show by nods how much their thoughts were
mine.
O classic Ilion, had it been my fate
Not to have waited for these ages late,
But to have marshalled on this spacious plain
My myrmidons, how marvellous my gain 1
Poor had Achilles been, Ulysses weak,
If they had only heard Gladisseus speak ;
Impetuous rhet’ric from Gladisseus flung,
Fiercer than ever fell from Grecian tongue,
Thersites would have taken short-hand note,
Old Agamemnon hurried up to vote—
The mighty warriors, summoned by the call,
Have chosen me, Gladisseus, chief of all.
Unhappy I, that in these latter days
No Homer lives to celebrate my praise,
My valiant deeds to future times to show—
But I, perforce, must my own trumpet blow.”
So spake Gladisseus, much disposed to weep,
But wiped his eyes and sank to peaceful sleep.
Soon in his dreams the hero roused to life,
Eager to share again the deadly strife,
Once more he seems his massive arms to wield,
Again the sunlight beams upon his shield,
Bendizzy turns, nor dares his foe to meet,
And, flying, vacant leaves the Treasury seat.
�9°
THE FIJIAD; OR,
Applauding crowds attend the victor’s train,
And famed Gladisseus is himself again !
Starting from sleep, Gladisseus looked around,
But neither foes nor followers he found.
“ Bother the dream! ” th’ awakened hero cried,
“ The night is cold, I’m almost petrified.
I thought my foe, Bendizzy, had the sack,
And I, to be First Lord, was summoned back ;
That on swift wings of joy I homeward rushed
To see my Windsor uniform was brushed.
Vain^are such dreams—the world has other deeds
For warriors to achieve when Gladdy leads.”
With step elate the chieftain hurried home
To dare the thunders of offended Rome.
Doffing the helm, a square-cut cap he took,
His sword and shield gave place to pen and book.
“ I will destroy,” he cried, “ the proud pretence
That claims our conscience and denies our sense ;
In such a cause my arms will I employ,
And dream no more of antiquated Troy. ’ ’
“Brownson,” said O’Quill, “that isn’t a bad
bit, but we cannot consider it enough for one
evening. I put it to you, as a literary gentleman
and a patriot, whether it is respectful to our ex
cellent host to break up just yet, especially as, I
perceive, the whisky holds out, and there seems to
be a tendency generally to fill the flowing bowl.
I will, if Fijitee is agreeable, endeavour to fill up
the spare time by recounting some of the reflec
tions made to me by one of the distinguished
visitors to the Oriental Congress, the Captain of
the Forty Thieves. Don’t be alarmed, Smith ; I
am not poaching on your preserves. You did the
report, but I interviewed some of the visitors
afterwards; and really, I can tell you, the gentle
man I have referred to was not a bad sort of fellow,
and exhibited a very fair appreciation of some of
the comforts of civilized life.”
“ I should very much like, indeed, ” said Fijitee,
“ to hear what such a very clever person as the
Captain of the Forty Thieves thinks of things in
general in this country. He was a remarkable
man, and the manner in which he obtained the
information from the cobbler impressed me
greatly.”
O’Quill did not need much encouragement to
commence, and started off at a good pace with
the captain’s_reflections on—
New Scamps for Old.
the days of the Caliph I thought myself a
very clever fellow. I was rather caught
tripping over the ‘ Open Sesame ’^business, but
trustfulness in human nature was one of my weak
nesses. I never supposed anybody would be
artful enough to get up a tree to listen to what
honest men were talking about, and as to making
use of the information so shabbily obtained, it was
positively very reprehensible. Since I have been
in this country I have been very much annoyed
by the obtrusive—I may say, impertinent—atten
tions of the members of the police force,
who, I am assured, are in the habit of
making very unpleasant inquiries, and watch
ing in a most ungentlemanly manner the
movements of individuals who have a very great
objection to be so watched; and I have no
hesitation in saying, that were Ali Baba now alive,
he would have been the sort of man for a police
man. I don’t wish to speak unkindly of him, for
Morgiana, to whom he was married, you will re
member, led him a deuce of a life, and I have
some reason to believe that at last she put him
into one of the jars in which, through her abomi
nable cruelty, my faithful followers suffered so
much.
“ But, I was remarking, that in the old days,
when I had the opportunity of distinguishing
myself in the manner which historians have
thought fit to record for the admiration of pos
terity, I considered myself rather a smart fellow.
I adopted a very simple method of carrying on
my business. I and my band waited on travel
lers, and took their money, first cutting off their
heads to save future inconvenience ; and if any
one of my men grumbled at his share, I cut off his
head, which also saved trouble. But I find that
style of thing is now quite out of fashion, and
that the machinery of thieving is wonderfully
complex; that, in fact, the march of roguery has
kept pace with the march of intellect, and that
we poor, old-fashioned, primitive rascals are no
more to be compared with the modern ones than
is the old spinning-wheel of- my grandmother
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
1
fe
e
i
»•j
7
i
ly
I I
id
a
1 I
s I
? I
I I
1 -f
1,1
¡L I
> I
I I
II
j i
I g
I
i I
1
\
1 I
tg
71
i1
B'l
1 I
7 |
B J
7 I
J ®
2
with the machinery now in use in your great
factories.
“ I am sure I should never have thought of
insuring ships heavily, and then sending them to
sea to sink with all on board. I did not mind
slicing off a fellow’s head, that was straightforward business, and, besides, he had offended
me; but the new dodge is a cut above me. It
would have been quite beyond my capability to
have started companies and rigged the share
market (a friend explained the whole business to me), or to make a dead-set at a bank
and ruin it, as, I am told, some of your people
did at Black Friday time, a few years ago,
bringing hundreds of poor widows and orphans to
abject poverty. I know I was Captain of the Forty
Thieves, but please don’t insult me by supposing
me capable of anything of that kind. Scamps, in
my time, wouldn’t have written libellous letters,
and published scandals in newspapers, expecting
to be bought off by timid people who had not the
courage to face it out.
“ In all my band there was not a fellow who
would have trumped up a story that he was some
body else, and tried to defraud a child of his
property, and backed up his lies by attacking the
character of a virtuous lady. The New Scamps
beat us Old Scamps, and no mistake.
“If any of the shopkeepers who lived in the
same street as Ali Baba had played the tricks
with eatables and drinkables that some of your
people do, their ears would very soon have been
nailed to the door-post; and if anybody in those
times had beaten, kicked, and jumped upon his
wife, the Cadi would have had him bastinadoed
till all the kicking was taken out of him. Nice
scamps you have among you, who spend all their
money in drink, and leave their children to starve ;
who persuade girls with money to marry them,
and then waste the money and ill-treat their
wretched wives; and others—well, I see you
look rather ashamed of some of your countrymen,
so I will say no more on that subject.
91
“ But if you are disposed to think that we poor ig
norant robbers, who had never been taught better,
and took to roguery because we had nothing else to
do, were the biggest scamps the world has seen,
just make a note about your financial swindlers,
your gamblers in investments, your concocters of
lying prospectuses, your insuring scamps, your
trustee scamps, the fellows who spend money that
is not their own and are toadied to by the crowd
as if they were public benefactors ; the liars, the
swindlers, and the cheats; the merchants who
pack cotton-bales with rubbish, and who adul
terate food; the scamps who forge telegrams,
and the miserable wretches who write begging
letters ; the betting men (if I had found that one
of my band was a tout, I would have bastinadoed
him first and skinned him afterwards), the wife
beaters, and the crowd of rogues and vagabonds
who infest your towns, the lazy scamps who are
met everywhere—-and then tell me whether the
New Scamps are not worse than the Old Scamps
by ‘long chalks,’ as a Yankee I once met used
to say.”
“My friend,” I replied, “you are still in the
darkness of Oriental barbarism. I would have
you to know that we are a highly civilized and
refined people, that our morals are cultivated to
the highest perfection; that our poorer classes
are models of virtue, that the gentle influences of
the highest examples are recognized throughout
society in all grades, and the finest intellects of
the time are allied with the possessors of wealth
in forwarding the true interests of the people, and
setting an example of purity of morals and the
most sensitive honour. The matters you refer to
are mostly scientific experiments in finance, and
others are undertaken for the purpose of improv
ing the social and domestic relations of the
people.”
I regret to have to say that my friend, the
Captain of the Forty Thieves, winked, and said
something which sounded very much like
“Walker.”
�THE FIJIAD; OR,
last Oigbt’s <8ntettaintnenu
tJyTf Y dear friends,” said Fijitee, “ the time has
come when these pleasant meetings must
end. I cannot express how highly I have been
gratified and instructed by the information you
have afforded me. I feel sure that no foreigner,
who has been for so short a time in your country,
can know so much of your institutions and cus
toms. as I do, thanks to your kindness; and I
look forward with delighted anticipation to the
pleasure with which the intelligent natives of
my beloved country will peruse the articles
I shall insert in my newspaper.”
“You may take an affidavit, Fijitee,” inter
rupted O’Quill, “ that no foreigner, or in fact
anybody else, has ever been told so much that is
perfectly authentic. The blunders those fellows
make are awful, and all for want of going to the
fountain-head of information.”
“ I was about to observe,” resumed Fijitee,
“that I intend to occupy the remainder of the
time which I shall spend in this country in visiting
some of the objects of interest which I should
be sorry not to be acquainted with. I wish par
ticularly to inspect the British Constitution, which,
I am told, is preserved in a chest in the Tower.”
“You must get an order from Earl Russell,”
said Smith ; “he has taken it under his especial
protection.”
“ Thank you. I also wish to visit the splendid
and hospitable establishments where, I am told,
the aged and infirm portion of your population
find comfort and repose ; where they are fed on
delicacies suited to their failing appetites, com
fortably lodged and clothed, indulged in social
and domestic intercourse, and pass their latter
days as virtuous people who have done their duty
when young and vigorous should.”
“ You will find such a visit most interesting,”
remarked Johnson, “ and I would advise you to
taste the skilly and other delicacies prepared for
their gratification. I assure you, you might dine
with the first people in the land, or at the Mansion
House itself, and find no such dishes on the festive
board. I would also advise you to obtain an
introduction to a meeting of the St. Pancake’s, or
other important metropolitan vestry, and observe
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
the intense desire of the eminent philanthropists
who are members of those bodies to promote the
jO
comfort of the aged and infirm, making any ex
pense that might be incurred quite a secondary
consideration.”
10
“ I will do so,” replied the Prince ; “ it would
Is
afford a good subject for a special letter. I have
not yet visited any of your places of amusement,
rd but I have heard that the performances are highly
moral and instructive ; that propriety of dress
m
:£;.
and deportment are especially attended to, and
li
that the characters represented, and the plots of
IL
the dramas performed, are intended to teach
virtue to the people.”
¡Ti
(“ Who told him that ? ” whispered Omnium to
D
O’Quill. “There’s an opposition somewhere.”)
“I also wish to see Gog and Magog, who—you
H
remember you told me, Mr. Smith—stand be
d
hind the Lord Mayor’s chair at banquets, and
<1 propose the health of visitors ; to witness a fight
with wild beasts at the Zoological Gardens,
w
w where, you know, there is a wonderful rhino
o
ceros, whose jaws are always dripping with
if
blood, and who performs extraordinary tricks of
d'
balancing with a pail.”
(“ Take another sip of whisky, Veritas, to
s' ’ strengthen your nerves. Our friend is getting
rr
rather unpleasant,” said Smith, quietly.)
“ In short, there are many other matters I
a
should like to make myself acquainted with; for
i- I intend, on my return, not only to write the
8
special articles I have spoken of, but to give
if
lectures, and, by the help of dissolving views and
fe*
sketches on the black-board, impart a great deal
o
of information to my fellow-countrymen.”
“ Fijitee, my friend,” hurriedly interposed
D
O’Quill, “ in that I can assist you greatly, for I
rfhave worked the dodge myself. Start a Fijid
technic Institution, make the people laugh, and
a
call it scientific instruction. Have plenty of
a
music, and—can you sing ? Well, never mind,
you can get plenty of people who can. A good
?
L
shouting tenor and a serio-comic lady will help
if
you wonderfully. If, for instance, you exhibit on
i
the screen a portrait of the Lord Mayor’s swordf-j ' bearer (he is a rum ’un in that cap of his), make
your vocalist strike up, “ Draw the sword,
aj
Scotland!” and there you are. Or, if you do it all
/ | without aid, announce yourself as the great Trans
di
iw
93
pacific Humorist; talk for three-quarters of an
hour, putting in a few awfully bad jokes, looking
as miserable as you can while you utter them,
have lots of champagne behind for the press
fellows, and you will achieve an amazing reputa
tion as a dry humorist.”
There was a pause for a few moments, during
which the clouds of’ delicately-scented smoke
ascended from the cigars of the gentlemen present
and the toddy line (as M’Snuff, who had a taste
for natural science, especially in cases where the
properties of alcoholic drinks were concerned,
described it) was considerably lowered in the
tumblers. Then a whispered conversation, and
Mr. Omnium rose to his feet, and having
fortified his nerves by a momentary attention
to his glass, said—
“ Prince Fijitee, on the part of the gentle
men present, I desire to express the very great
pleasure we have derived from these evening as
sociations with you, and the regret we feel
that these meetings are approaching a ter
mination. It has been interesting, most in
teresting, to us to watch the impressions
made upon your naturally unsophisticated mind
by the narratives which the gentlemen around
me, with my humble assistance, have re
lated to you. You will, I am sure, take back with
you to the smiling valleys and verdure-clad hills
of your native islands—islands which Captain Cook
did not visit, the omission, no doubt, weighing
heavily on his mind, and he was probably think
ing of it, and regretting it, when the dusky,
if noble, savage, speared him in the back—the im
pression that we' are an extraordinary people.
I might suggest, by the way, that probably one
reason why Captain Cook did not visit great and
glorious Fiji was, that he had heard that there
were a great number of cooks there already, and
that too many cooks might spoil the broth, which,
considering what the broth was probably made of,
would have been a pity. Had time pern itted,
Sir, you would have been highly gratified to inspect
several other of our institutions besides those you
have menti®ned. We did intend to suggest to
the officials of the Crystal Palace Company the
propriety of a state reception of you, Sir, our
illustrious guest; and if it could have been
arranged on the day when the teetotallers visit
�94
THE FIJIAD; OR,
the Palace in great numbers, you would have
witnessed a most extraordinary ceremony.
You would have observed numeKOus jets of
water suddenly burst forth, water-spouts of the
non-intoxicating fluid. You would have seen
visitors rush to the spot, indulge their taste for
aqueous bibulation, the tall columns of water
would gradually diminish, and in the short space
of twenty minutes or thereabouts they would have
disappeared. After that, Sir, you would have
entertained a still higher opinion of the great
ness of our country. It might, too, have afforded
you considerable gratification to have been pre
sent in a railway collision, to have observed the
ingenuity with which trains are made to run
against each other in the interests of science. The
noble art of surgery has been greatly advanced
by the prevalence .of railway accidents, which
have afforded the faculty (we give that name to
the doctors) many admirable opportunities of
observing the peculiarities resulting from various
modes of doubling up and smashing the human
anatomy. The habits of various classes of
society, too, would have afforded you a vast
field for observation, by means of which you
would have been able greatly to enrich your con
templated series of papers. Our friend, Mr.
Veritas—who, I must say, is possessed of a very
vigorous imagination as well as great powers of
observation—might have been able to show you
how our happy, prosperous, working-classes live ;
what charming, healthy homes they inhabit in
our great cities ; how provident are their habits,
how little addicted to waste any of their money
in injurious indulgences. The houses where
they obtain necessary refreshment are licensed
by the authorities for the express purpose of
affording facilities for temperate indulgence, and,
so valuable have they proved to be, that they are
expressly allowed to be kept open very late at
night, so that any person who, being restless and
unable to sleep, would like to enter into improving
conversation with a person of enlarged views,
and considerable knowledge of human nature
—such as they are who keep these houses—may
enjoy an opportunity of doing so. But, Sir, these
and other most interesting aspects of our civiliza
tion you may not have time to witness, and there
fore I ask you to accept our description of them
�ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
as you have done the other most authentic state
ments we have made. In the writings of a very
distinguished poet of the other hemisphere there
is a character familiarly styled ‘ Truthful James.’
I assure you, Sir, that that eminently candid indi
vidual could not, in common parlance, ‘ hold a
candle to us ’ in the way of truthful assertions.
You will go, Sir, from a country subject to the
sway of a Sovereign on whose dominions the sun
never sets—I pass by with proper scorn the un
feeling remark of a foreigner who arrived here on
a very foggy day (one of those days which are
among our most treasured possessions) ‘ that,
apparently, the sun never rose on them ’ — a
country great, glorious, and free, which pos
sesses a British lion and an equally British
unicorn, which are certainly as good as any spread
eagle in the universe; a country which has no
disaffected member among the group of sister
islands, no desire for separate administration or
‘ home rule ; ’ where everybody is happy and peace
ful; where ‘none is for himself, but all are for the
J State,’and where under the shadow of our ancestral fig-trees we sing ‘Rule Britannia ’ from morn to
>6 i dewy eve. Fijitee, farewell; may you wave !
Y May you take back to your beloved islands evi
A dences of the civilization of the country you have
visited ! and when you speak, as you will speak,
I know, with tears of affectionate remembrance
dimming your manly eye, of the bright spirits
w with whom you have been associated in these de
til lightful symposia, you will say, in the language
to of the poet whose renown is national if his name
■gf is unknown, ‘ They are jolly good fellows.’ Once
CB more, Fijitee, farewell.”
Mr. Omnium sat down amidst a storm of ap
plause, and then Fijitee rose to return thanks. He
began, tremulously, “ Unaccustomed as I am to
public speaking, and feeling as I do on the pre
sent occasion----- ”
(“ How charmingly original! ” whispered Brownson. “ Quite an utterance of unsophisticated
nature! ”)
“ I can only imperfectly express my feelings.
I thank you heartily for the information you have
given, and your hints are most valuable. I
intend to----- ”
But what he intended to do was never known,
.Qd
for a great noise was at that moment heard on the
95
staircase—the voice of an apparently elderly
female in a great state of excitement; and then
came—
The Catastrophe.
O away, you good-for-nothing wagabones ! ”
screamed a stout, middle-aged woman,
with a bonnet ornamented with red and yellow
flowers and a huge feather, and wearing a re
splendent • shawl, the pride of East-End marts;
“you ought to be ashamed of yourselves, to try
to prevent me seeing the gentleman. I am sure
I am that tired that the smallest possible
drop of brandy—leastways, not to say rum,
which I never drinks but the least quan
tity of—would do my sperrits a world and all
of good. I says to Brown, I says, this very
morning, when, drat the girl! she was up so
late that the kettle wasn’t boiled for breakfast,
and it is a bit of toast, or a morsel of bacon I
like, and time to eat it. I says, Brown, I says,
I have been told—and I believe it, for Mrs. Par
kins, poor soul, as told me, always tells the
truth, she does—though never will I believe that
story about the price of mangling—but I have
been told, I says, that a real Prince from Fiji is
here, and go and see him I will, for I see all the
great people, I does, I says. Martha, says
Brown—he is that cool he quite aggravates me_
what do you want to see him for ? What for ? I says,
why, doesn’t that clever young man as writes for
me always help me to make a book about every
body ? _ Isn’t there ‘ Mrs. Brown with King
Koffee,’ ‘Mrs. Brown up the Alps,’ and a lot
of other things ? and, Brown, I says—I was that
angry -there shall be a ‘ Mrs. Brown in Fiji.’
And here I am, Sir; and how are you ? ’’
At her first appearance the gentlemen rose
rather excitedly. “ It’s all up,” said Omnium,
“ if that old woman gets hold of him.” Fijitee
turned pale, his chignon trembled on his head, he
nervously touched the poker, as if with some idea
of defending himself, but as Mrs. Brown ap
proached him he stepped backwards towards the
door.
“Thisistoo dreadful!” he muttered, the per
spiration standing on his brow. “ Have I lived
for this ?”
�g6
THE FIJIAD; OR, ENGLISH NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS.
“My dear young man,” said Mrs. Brown,
“ don’t you be in a fanteeg. Just you come with
me, and I will show you about. I put on my best
gownd, which fits to a tee—only a little too tight
at the armholes. You come with me.”
“Go away, fearful creature!” stammered'
Fijitee. •
She stepped forward, advanced her umbrella,
and smiled benignantly. He still retreated.
His friends stepped between them, but she poked
them with her umbrella, and held out her arms to
embrace the Fijian. With a wild yell, such as in
his native island he uttered in the days of his
happy childhood, he leapt down the stairs, and
was seen no more.
Mrs. Brown would have followed him, but Om
nium winked, and pointed to the table. She
calmed herself, took a glass of whisky-and-water;
the gentlemen imitated her example, and then, in
a neat speech, followed by musical honours,
O’Quill proposed a toast—
“ Health and long life to the most illustrious
Fijitee, Prince of Fiji ! ’’
We greatly regret that we have been unable to •
discover any authentic traces of the distinguished
Fijian after this memorable interview with Mrs.
Brown. Vague rumours respecting persons of
dark complexion, with remarkable heads of hair,
have reached us, but we cannot identify our
friend from the descriptions given. It was
naturally supposed that he would attempt to
cornrrtunicate with some of the gentlemen who’
had supped with him on that memorable evening,
and the agony columns of the daily papers were
carefully watched. Once we thought we might
have obtained a clue through an advertisement,
beginning “ Smpqlz*5y,” but a Clever friend who
has studied such matters, having succeeded in
deciphering it, discovered the translation to be,
“ If you do not return that umbrella, I will tell
your mother ! ”
We trust he has reached his native country,
whither no Mrs. Brown will follow him, and that
his newspaper will shortly appear with graphic
narratives of his experiences, and the brilliant
descriptive letters we have been led to expect
from his pen.
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Victorian Blogging
Description
An account of the resource
A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Conway Hall Library & Archives
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Conway Hall Ethical Society
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
Pamphlet
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The Fijiad or English nights' entertainments
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: [London]
Collation: [1]-96 p. ; 25 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. From Beeton's Christmas Annual, fifteenth season. Publication information from KVK.
Please note that this pamphlet contains language and ideas that may be upsetting to readers. These reflect the time in which the pamphlet was written and the ideologies of the author.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
[Ward, Lock & Tyler]
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1875]
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
G5739
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
[Unknown]
Subject
The topic of the resource
Anthropology
Fiji
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (The Fijiad or English nights' entertainments), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Language
A language of the resource
English
British Empire
Conway Tracts