Voces Populi. Anstey F.

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      First L. But how could he slip the watch in when somebody was holding it all the time in a paper bag?

      The M. in E. D. Ah, I saw how it was done – but it would take too long to explain it now. I have seen it so well performed that you couldn't spot it. But this chap's a regular duffer!

      Herr V. K. (who finds this sort of thing rather disturbing). Lyties and Shentilmans, I see zere is von among us who is a brofessional like myself, and knows how all my leedle dricks is done. Now – [suddenly abandoning his accent] – I am always griteful for hanythink that will distrack the attention of the orjence from what is going on upon the Stige; naterally so, because it prevents you from follerin' my actions too closely, and so I now call upon this gentleman in the hevenin' dress jest to speak hup a very little louder than what he 'as been doin', so that you will be enabled to 'ear hevery word of 'is hexplanation more puffickly than what some of you in the back benches have done itherto. Now, Sir, if you'll kindly repeat your very hinteresting remarks in a more haudible tone, I can go on between like. [Murmurs of "No no!" "Shut up!" "We don't want to hear him!" from various places; The Man in Evening Dress subsides into a crimson taciturnity, which continues during the remainder of the performance.

      At the Tudor Exhibition

      The usual Jocose 'Arry (who has come here with 'Arriet, for no very obvious reason, as they neither of them know or care about any history but their own). Well, I s'pose as we are 'ere, we'd better go in a buster for a book o' the words, eh? (To Commissionaire.) What are yer doin' them c'rect guides at, ole man? A shillin'? Not me! 'Ere, 'Arriet, we'll make it out for ourselves.

      A Young Man (who has dropped in for five minutes – "just to say he's been, don't you know"). 'Jove —my Aunt! Nip out before she spots me… Stop, though, suppose she has spotted me? Never can tell with giglamps … better not risk it. [Is "spotted" while hesitating.

      His Aunt. I didn't recognise you till just this moment, John, my boy. I was just wishing I had some one to read out all the extracts in the Catalogue for me; now we can go round together.

      An Uncle (who has taken Master Tommy out for the afternoon). This is the way to make your English History real to you, my boy!

      The Intelligent Person. Ha! armour of the period, you see!

      (Feels bound to make an intelligent remark.) 'Stonishing how the whole art of war has been transformed since then, eh? Now – to me – (as if he was conscious of being singular in this respect) – to me, all this is most interesting. Coming as I do, fresh from Froude —

      His Companion (a Flippant Person). Don't speak so loud. If they know you've come in here fresh, you'll get turned out!

      Patronising Persons (inspecting magnificent suit of russet and gilt armour). 'Pon my word, no idea they turned out such good work in those times – very creditable to them, really.

      The Uncle. Now, Tommy, you remember what became of Katherine of Aragon, I'm sure? No, no – tut – tut —she wasn't executed! I'm afraid you're getting rather rusty with these long holidays. Remind me to speak to your mother about setting you a chapter or so of history to read every day when we get home, will you?

      Tommy (to himself). It is hard lines on a chap having a Sneak for an Uncle! Catch me swotting to please him!

      'Arry. There's old 'Enery the Eighth, you see – that's 'im right enough; him as 'ad all those wives, and cut every one of their 'eds off!

      'Arriet (admiringly). Ah, I knew we shouldn't want a Catalogue.

      The Int. P. Wonderfully Holbein's caught the character of the man – the – er – curious compound of obstinacy, violence, good-humour, sensuality, and – and so on. No mistaking a Holbein – you can tell him at once by the extraordinary finish of all the accessories. Now look at that girdle – isn't that Holbein all over?

      Flippant P. Not quite all over, old fellow. Catalogue says it's painted by Paris Bordone.

      The Int. P. Possibly – but it's Holbein's manner, and, looking at these portraits, you see at once how right Froude's estimate was of the King.

      F. P. Does Froude say how he got that nasty one on the side of his nose?

      A Visitor. Looks overfed, don't he?

      Second V. (sympathetically). Oh, he fed himself very well; you can see that.

      The Aunt. Wait a bit, John – don't read so fast. I haven't made out the middle background yet. And where's the figure of St. Michael rising above the gilt tent, lined with fleurs-de-lis on a blue ground? Would this be Guisnes, or Ardres, now? Oh, Ardres on the right – so that's Ardres – yes, yes; and now tell me what it says about the two gold fountains, and that dragon up in the sky.

      The Patronising Persons. 'Um! Holbein again, you see – very curious their ideas of painting in those days. Ah, well, Art has made great progress since then – like everything else!

      Miss Fisher. So that's the beautiful Queen Mary! I wonder if it is really true that people have got better-looking since those days?

      Her Phlegmatic Fiancé. I wonder.

      Miss F. You hardly ever see such small hands now, do you? With those lovely long fingers, too!

      The Phl. F. No, never.

      Miss F. Perhaps people in some other century will wonder how anybody ever saw anything to admire in us?

      The Phl. F. Shouldn't be surprised.

      The Aunt. John, just find out who No. 222 is.

      John (sulkily). Sir George Penruddocke, Knight.

      His Aunt (with enthusiasm). Of course —how interesting this is, isn't it? – seeing all these celebrated persons exactly as they were in life! Now read who he was, John, please.

      The Int. Person. Froude tells a curious incident about —

      Flippant P. I tell you what it is, old chap, if you read so much history, you'll end by believing it!

      The Int. P. (pausing before the Shakspeare portraits). "He was not for an age, but for all time."

      The Fl. P. I suppose that's why they've painted none of them alike.

      A Person with a talent for Comparison. Mary, come here a moment. Do look at this – "Elizabeth, Lady Hoby" – did you ever see such a likeness?

      Mary. СКАЧАТЬ