THE FALL OF THE EMINENT I.

'Twas in the prime of autumn time,

An evening calm and cool,

And full two thousand cockneys went

To see him play the fool;—

And the critics filled the stalls as thick

As the balls in a billiard pool.

Away they sped when the play was done,

Scarce knowing what to say;

So they passed the butter boat around

In the simple, usual way.

Smoothly ran their glowing prose

In the daily press next day.

The Eminent I. they raved about

Till their gush to columns ran;

Condoning a fiasco great,

As friendly critics can;

And he still strutted on the stage,

An over-rated man.

He wore pink tights—his vest apart,

To clutch his manly chest;

And he went at the knees in his old, old way,

Whilst his brow he madly prest.

So he whisper'd and roared, and gasp'd and groan'd,

As with dyspepsia possest.

Act after act he ranted through,

And he strode for many a mile,

Till some were fain to leave the house,

Too weary even to smile;

For acting the murderer's part so oft

Had somewhat marred his style.

But he took six more hasty strides

Across the stage again—

Six hasty strides, then doubled up,

As smit with searching pain;

As though to say, "See me create

The conscience-stricken Thane!"

Then leaping on his feet upright,

Some moody turns took he

Now up the stage, now down the stage,

And now beside Miss B.;

And, looking off, he saw her ma,

As she read in the R. U. E.

"Now, Mrs. B., what is't you read?"

Ask'd he, with top-lip curving.

"Queen Mary? A play by Mr. Wills,

Or something more deserving?"

Said Mrs. B., with an upturned glance,

"It is 'The Fall of Irving!'"

"His fall!" gasped he, "in sooth you jest!

O, prithee say what mean ye?

Know ye not, they call him Kemble-ish,

And speak of his style as Kean-y?

On the modern stage he stands alone."

She murmur'd one word—"Salvini!"

"Avaunt!" he cried; "that name again!

Its mention ne'er will cease;

Does he still dare my throne to share,

And threaten my fame's short lease?"

But here the call-boy came to say,

That his absence stopped the piece.

* * * *

One night, months thence, whilst gentle sleep

Had still'd the City's heart,

Two bill-stickers set out with paste

And play-bills in a cart,

And the Eminent I. had his name on them,

In a melodramatic part.

The Figaro, October 9, 1875.

When Mr. Henry Irving produced The Iron Chest, at the Lyceum Theatre, the Editor of The World offered two prizes for the best two parodies on the subject, the model chosen being Hood's Dream of Eugene Aram. The successful parodies were printed in The World, October 22, 1879:—