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the angel and the author-第27章

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of movement。  Before the week was out they were playing Puss…in…the…
corner; ladies feeling young again were archly beckoning to stout 
deans; to whom were returning all the sensations of a curate。  The 
swiftness with which the gouty generals found they could still hobble 
surprised even themselves。

'Why are we so young?'

But it is in the music…hall; as I have said; that I am most impressed 
with the youthfulness of man。  How delighted we are when the long man 
in the little boy's hat; having asked his short brother a riddle; and 
before he can find time to answer it; hits him over the stomach with 
an umbrella!  How we clap our hands and shout with glee!  It isn't 
really his stomach:  it is a bolster tied round his waistwe know 
that; but seeing the long man whack at that bolster with an umbrella 
gives us almost as much joy as if the bolster were not there。

I laugh at the knockabout brothers; I confess; so long as they are on 
the stage; but they do not convince me。  Reflecting on the 
performance afterwards; my dramatic sense revolts against the 〃plot。〃  
I cannot accept the theory of their being brothers。  The difference 
in size alone is a strain upon my imagination。  It is not probable 
that of two children of the same parents one should measure six foot 
six; and the other five foot four。  Even allowing for a freak of 
nature; and accepting the fact that they might be brothers; I do not 
believe they would remain so inseparable。  The short brother would 
have succeeded before now in losing the long brother。  Those 
continual bangings over the head and stomach would have weakened 
whatever affection the short brother might originally have felt 
towards his long relation。  At least; he would insist upon the 
umbrella being left at home。

〃I will go for a walk with you;〃 he might say; 〃I will stand stock 
still with you in Trafalgar Square in the midst of the traffic while 
you ask me silly riddles; but not if you persist in bringing with you 
that absurd umbrella。  You are too handy with it。  Put it back in the 
rack before we start; or go out by yourself。〃

Besides; my sense of justice is outraged。  Why should the short 
brother be banged and thumped without reason?  The Greek dramatist 
would have explained to us that the shorter brother had committed a 
crime against the gods。  Aristophanes would have made the longer 
brother the instrument of the Furies。  The riddles he asked would 
have had bearing upon the shorter brother's sin。  In this way the 
spectator would have enjoyed amusement combined with the satisfactory 
sense that Nemesis is ever present in human affairs。  I present the 
idea; for what it may be worth; to the concoctors of knockabout 
turns。

'Where Brotherly (and Sisterly) Love reigns supreme'

The family tie is always strong on the music…hall stage。  The 
acrobatic troupe is always a 〃Family〃:  Pa; Ma; eight brothers and 
sisters; and the baby。  A more affectionate family one rarely sees。  
Pa and Ma are a trifle stout; but still active。  Baby; dear little 
fellow; is full of humour。  Ladies do not care to go on the music…
hall stage unless they can take their sister with them。  I have seen 
a performance given by eleven sisters; all the same size and 
apparently all the same age。  She must have been a wonderful woman
the mother。  They all had golden hair; and all wore precisely similar 
frocksa charming but decolletee arrangementin claret…coloured 
velvet over blue silk stockings。  So far as I could gather; they all 
had the same young man。  No doubt he found it difficult amongst them 
to make up his mind。

〃Arrange it among yourselves;〃 he no doubt had said; 〃it is quite 
immaterial to me。  You are so much alike; it is impossible that a 
fellow loving one should not love the lot of you。  So long as I marry 
into the family I really don't care。〃

When a performer appears alone on the music…hall stage it is easy to 
understand why。  His or her domestic life has been a failure。  I 
listened one evening to six songs in succession。  The first two were 
sung by a gentleman。  He entered with his clothes hanging upon him in 
shreds。  He explained that he had just come from an argument with his 
wife。  He showed us the brick with which she had hit him; and the 
bump at the back of his head that had resulted。  The funny man's 
marriage is never a success。  But really this seems to be his own 
fault。  〃She was such a lovely girl;〃 he tells us; 〃with a face
well; you'd hardly call it a face; it was more like a gas explosion。  
Then she had those wonderful sort of eyes that you can see two ways 
at once with; one of them looks down the street; while the other one 
is watching round the corner。  Can see you coming any way。  And her 
mouth!〃

It appears that if she stands anywhere near the curb and smiles; 
careless people mistake her for a pillar…box; and drop letters into 
her。

〃And such a voice!〃  We are told it is a perfect imitation of a 
motor…car。  When she laughs people spring into doorways to escape 
being run over。

If he will marry that sort of woman; what can he expect?  The man is 
asking for it。

The lady who followed him also told us a sad story of misplaced 
trust。  She also was comicso the programme assured us。  The 
humorist appears to have no luck。  She had lent her lover money to 
buy the ring; and the licence; and to furnish the flat。  He did buy 
the ring; and he furnished the flat; but it was for another lady。  
The audience roared。  I have heard it so often asked; 〃What is 
humour?〃  From observation; I should describe it as other people's 
troubles。

A male performer followed her。  He came on dressed in a night…shirt; 
carrying a baby。  His wife; it seemed; had gone out for the evening 
with the lodger。  That was his joke。  It was the most successful song 
of the whole six。

'The one sure Joke。'

A philosopher has put it on record that he always felt sad when he 
reflected on the sorrows of humanity。  But when he reflected on its 
amusements he felt sadder still。

Why was it so funny that the baby had the lodger's nose?  We laughed 
for a full minute by the clock。

Why do I love to see a flabby…faced man go behind curtains; and; 
emerging in a wig and a false beard; say that he is now Bismarck or 
Mr。 Chamberlain?  I have felt resentment against the Lightning 
Impersonator ever since the days of Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee。  
During that summer every Lightning Impersonator ended his show by 
shouting; while the band played the National Anthem; 〃Queen 
Victoria!〃  He was not a bit like Queen Victoria。  He did not even; 
to my thinking; look a lady; but at once I had to stand up in my 
place and sing 〃God save the Queen。〃  It was a time of enthusiastic 
loyalty; if you did not spring up quickly some patriotic old fool 
from the back would reach across and hit you over the head with the 
first thing he could lay his hands upon。

Other music…hall performers caught at the idea。  By ending up with 
〃God save the Queen〃 any performer; however poor; could retire in a 
whirlwind of applause。  Niggers; having bored us with tiresome songs 
about coons and honey
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