Punch, or the London Charivari. Vol. 1, July 31, 1841 by Various
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Various >> Punch, or the London Charivari. Vol. 1, July 31, 1841
We have not gone into the system of signals and "_hand motions_," if we may
be allowed to use a legal term, by which the whole of this navy is
regulated; but these, and other details, may, perhaps, be the subject of
some future article for we are partial to
[Illustration: TAKING IT EASY.]
* * * * *
CORRESPONDENCE.
_Newcastle-street, July --, 1841._
MR. PUNCH,--Little did I think wen i've bin a gaping and starin' at you in
the streats, that i shud ever happli to you for gustice. Isntet a shame
that peeple puts advurtusmints in the papers for a howsmaid for a lark, as
it puts all the poor survents out of plaice into a dredfool situashun.
As i alwuss gets a peep at the paper on the landin' as i takes it up for
breckfus, i was unfoughtunite enuf to see a para--thingem-me-bob--for a
howsmaid, wanted in a nobbleman's fameli. On course, a young woman has a
rite to better hursef if she can; so I makes up my mind at wunce--has i
oney has sicks pouns a ear, and finds my own t and shuggar--i makes up my
mind to arsk for a day out; which, has the cold mutting was jest enuf for
mastur and missus without me, was grarnted me. I soon clears up the
kitshun, and goes up stares to clean mysef. I puts on my silk gronin-napple
gownd, and my lase pillowrin, likewise my himitashun vermin tippit, (give
me by my cussen Harry, who keeps kumpany with me on hot-dinner days), also
my tuskin bonnit, parrersole, and blacbag; and i takes mysef orf to
South-street, but what was my felines, wen, on wringing the belle, a boy
anser'd the daw, with two roes of brarse beeds down his jacket.
"Can i speek a word with the futman?" says i, in my ingaugingist manner.
"i'm futman," says he.
"Then the cook," says i.
"We arn't no cook," says he.
"No cook!" says i, almose putrifide with surprise; "you must be jokin'"--
"Jokin'," says he; "do you no who lives here?"
"Not exacly," says i.
"Lord Milburn," says he.
i thort i shud have dropt on the step, as a glimmerin' of the doo shot
aX my mine.
"Then you don't want no howsmaid?" says i.
"Howsmaid!" says the boy; "go to blazes: (What could he mean by
[Illustration: GOING TO BLAZES?)]
"No; i've toled fifty on ye so this mornin'--it's a oaks."
"Then more shame of Lord Milborn to do it," says i; "he may want a place
hissef some day or other," sayin' of which i bounsed off the doorstep, with
all tho dignity i could command.
Now, what i wants to no is, wether i can't summons his lordship for my day
out. Harry sais, should i ever come in contract with Lord Milborn, i'm to
trete him with the silent kontempt of
Yours truly,
[Illustration: AN INDIGNANT HOUSEMAID.]
* * * * *
A MOVING SCENE.
The present occupants of the government premises in Downing-street, whose
leases will expire in a few days, are busily employed packing up their
small affairs before the new tenants come into possession. It is a pitiful
sight to behold these poor people taking leave of their softly-stuffed
seats, their rocking-chairs, their footstools, slippers, cushions, and all
those little official comforts of which they nave been so cruelly deprived.
That man must, indeed, be hard-hearted who would refuse to sympathise with
their sorrows, or to uplift his voice in the doleful Whig chorus, when he
hears--
[Illustration: THE PACK IN FULL CRY.]
* * * * *
THE DRAMA
DUCROW AT SADLER'S WELLS.
When, in a melo-drama, the bride is placing her foot upon the first step of
the altar, and Ruffi_aa_no tears her away, far from the grasp of her lover;
when a rich uncle in a farce dies to oblige a starving author in a garret;
when, two rivals duellise with toasting-forks; when such things are plotted
and acted in the theatre, hypercritics murmur at their improbability; but
compare them with the haps of the drama off the stage, and they become the
veriest of commonplaces. This is a world of change: the French have invaded
Algiers, British arms are doing mortal damage in the Celestial Empire,
Poulett Thomson has gone over to Canada, and oh! wonder of wonders!
Astley's has removed to Sadler's Wells!! The pyrotechnics of the former
have gone on a visit to the hydraulics of the latter, the red fire of
Astley's has come in contact with the real water of the Wells, yet, marvel
superlative! the unnatural meeting has been successful--there has not been
a single _hiss_.
What was the use of Sir Hugh Middleton bringing the New River to a "head,"
or of King Jamie buying shares in the speculation on purpose to supply
Sadler's Wells with real water, if it is to be drained off from under the
stage to make way for horses? Shade of Dibdin! ghost of Grimaldi! what
would you have said in your day? To be sure ye were guilty of pony races:
they took place _outside_ the theatre, but within the walls, in the very
_cella_ of the aquatic temple, till now, never! We wonder ye do not rise up
and "pluck bright Honner from the vasty deep" of his own tank.
Sawdust at Sadler's Wells! What next, Mr. Merriman?
[Illustration: A JUDGE GOING THE CIRCUIT.]
If Macready had been engaged for Clown, and set down to sing "hot codlins;"
were Palmerston "secured" for Pierrot, or Lord Monteagle for Jim Crow, who
would have wondered? But to saddle "The Wells" with horses--profanity
unparalleled!
Spitefully predicting failure from this terrible declension of the drama,
we went, in a mood intensely ill-natured, to witness how the "Horse of the
Pyrenees" would behave himself at Sadler's Wells. From the piece so called
we anticipated no amusement; we thought the regular company would make but
sorry equestrians, and, like the King of Westphalia's hussars, would prove
totally inefficient, from not being habituated to mount on horseback.
Happily we were mistaken; nothing could possibly _go_ better than both the
animals and the piece. The actors acquitted themselves manfully, even
including the horses. The mysterious Arab threw no damp over the
performances, for he was personated by Mr. Dry. The little Saracen was
performed so well by _le petit Ducrow_, that we longed to see _more_ of
him. The desperate battle fought by about sixteen supernumeraries at the
pass of Castle Moura, was quite as sanguinary as ever: the combats were
perfection--the glory of the red fire was nowise dimmed! It was magic, yes,
it _was_ magic! Mr. Widdicomb was there!!
Thinking of magic and Mr. Widdicomb (of whom dark hints of identification
with the wandering Jew have been dropped--who, _we know_, taught Prince
George of Denmark horsemanship--who is mentioned by Addison in the
"Spectator," by Dr. Johnson in the "Rambler," and helped to put out each of
the three fires that have happened at Astley's during the last two
centuries), brought by these considerations to a train of mind highly
susceptible of supernatural agency, we visited--
THE WIZARD OF THE NORTH,
the illustrious professor of _Phoenixsistography_, and other branches of
the black art, the names of which are as mysterious as their performance.
One only specimen of his prowess convinced us of his supernatural talents.
He politely solicited the loan of a bank-note--he was not choice as to the
amount or bank of issue. "It may be," saith the play-bill, "a Bank of
England or provincial note, for any sum from five pounds to one thousand."
His is better magic than Owen Glendower's, for the note "did come when he
did call it!" for a confiding individual in the boxes (dress circle of
course) actually did lend him, the Wizard, a cool hundred! Conceive the
power, in a metaphysical sense, the conjuror must have had over the
lender's mind! Was it animal magnetism?--was it terror raised by his
extraordinary performances, that spirited the cash out of the pocket of the
man? who, perhaps, thought that such supernatural talents _might_ be
otherwise employed against his very existence, thus occupying his perturbed
soul with the alternative, "Your money or your life!"
This subject is deeply interesting to actors out of engagements, literary
men, and people who "have seen better days"--individuals who have brought
this species of conjuration to a high state of perfection. It is a new and
important chapter in the "art of borrowing." We perceive in the Wizard's
advertisements he takes pupils, and offers to make them proficient in any
of his delusions at a guinea per trick. We intend to put ourselves under
his instructions for the bank-note trick, the moment we can borrow
one-pound-one for that purpose.
Besides this, the Wizard does a variety of things which made our hair stand
on end, even while reading their description in his play-bill. We did not
see him perform them. There was no occasion--the bank-note trick convinced
us--for the man who can borrow a hundred pounds whenever he wants it can do
anything.
Everybody ought to go and see him. Young ladies having a taste for
sentimental-looking men, who wear their hair _a la jeune France_; natural
historians who want to see guinea-pigs fly; gamesters who would like to be
made "fly" to a card trick or two; _connoisseurs_, who wish to see how
plum-pudding may be made in hats, will all be gratified by a visit to the
Adelphi.
* * * * *
MACBETH AT THE SURREY.
We heard the "Macbeth choruses" exquisitely performed, and saw the
concluding combat furiously fought at this theatre. This was all,
appertaining unto Macbeth in which we could detect a near approach to the
meaning and purpose of the text, except the performance of the _Queen_, by
Mrs. H. Vining, who seemed to understand the purport of the words she had
to speak, and was, consequently, inoffensive--a rare merit when Shakspere
is attempted on the other side of the Thames.
The qualifications demanded of an actor by the usual run of Surrey
audiences are lungs of undeniable efficiency, limbs which will admit of
every variety of contortion, and a talent for broad-sword combats. How,
then, could the new Macbeth--a Mr. Graham--think of choosing this theatre
for his first appearance? His deportment is quiet, and his voice weak. It
has, for instance, been usually thought, by most actors, that after a
gentleman has murdered his sovereign, and caused a similar peccadillo to be
committed upon his dearest friend, he would be, in some degree, agitated,
and put out of the even tenor of his way, when the ghost of Banquo appears
at the banquet. On such an occasion, John Kemble and Edmund Kean used to
think it advisable to start with an expression of terror or horror; but Mr.
Graham indulges us with a new reading. He carefully places one foot
somewhat in advance of the other, and puts his hands together with the
utmost deliberation. Again, he says mildly--
"Avaunt! and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee!"
in a tone which would well befit the situation, if the text ran thus:--
"Dear me, how singular! Pray go!"
When he does attempt to vociferate, the asthmatic complaint under which he
evidently labours prevents him from delivering the sentences in more
copious instalments than the following:--
"I'll fight--till--from my bones--my flesh--be hacked!"
We may be told that Mr. Graham cannot help his physical defects; but he can
help being an actor, and, above all, choosing a part which requires great
prowess of voice. In less trying characters, he may prove an acquisition;
for he showed no lack of judgment nor of acquaintance with the conventional
rules of the stage. At the Surrey, and in "Macbeth," he is entirely out of
his element. Above all, let him never play with Mr. Hicks, whose energy in
the combat scene, and ranting all through _Macduff_, brought down "_Brayvo,
Hicks!_" in showers. The contrast is really too disadvantageous.
But the choruses! Never were they more be_witch_ingly performed. Leffler
sings the part of _Hecate_ better than his best friends could have
anticipated; and, apart from the singing, Miss Romer's _acting_ in the
_soprano_ witch, is picturesque in the extreme.
* * * * *
HOP INTELLIGENCE
Fanny Elsler has made an enormous fortune by her _trips_ in America. Few
_pockets_ are so crammed by _hops_ as hers.
Oscar Byrne, professor of the College Hornpipe to the London University,
had a long interview yesterday with Lord Palmerston to give his lordship
lessons in the new waltz step. The master complains that, despite a long
political life's practice, the pupil does not turn _quick enough_. A change
was, however, apparent at the last lesson, and his lordship is expected
soon to be able to effect a complete rota-_tory_ motion.
Mademoiselle Taglioni has left London for Germany, her fatherland, the
country of her _pas_.
The society for the promotion of civilization have engaged Mr. Tom Matthews
to teach the Hottentots the minuet-de-la-Cour and tumbling. He departs with
the other missionaries when the hot weather sets in.
* * * * *
Charles Kean is becoming so popular with the jokers of the day, that we
have serious thoughts of reserving a corner entirely to his use. Amongst
the many hits at the young tragedian, the two following are not the
worst:--
EARLY ADVANTAGES.
"Kean's juvenile probation at Eton has done him good service with the
aristocratic patrons of the drama," remarked a lady to a witty friend of
ours. "Yes, madam," was the reply, "he seems to have gained by _Eaton_ what
his father lost by _drinking_."
BILL-STICKERS BEWARE.
"How Webster puffs young Kean--he seems to monopolise the walls!" said
Wakley to his colleague, Tom Duncombe. "Merely a realisation of the
adage,--_The weakest always goes to the wall_," replied the idol of
Finsbury.