Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 1, October 23, 1841 by Various
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Various >> Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 1, October 23, 1841
It is singular that in private life the habits of the animal differ most
materially according to its sex. The male sometimes keeps an academy and a
kit fiddle, but the domestic relations of the female remain a profound
mystery; and although Professors Tom Duncombe, Count D'Orsay,
Chesterfield, and several other eminent Italian-operatic natural
historians, have spent immense fortunes in an ardent pursuit of knowledge
in this branch of science, they have as yet afforded the world but a small
modicum of information. Perhaps what they _have_ learned is not of a
nature to be made public.
_Moral Characteristics._--None.
_Reproduction._--The offspring of opera-dancers are not, as is sometimes
supposed, born with wings; the truth is that these cherubim are frequently
attached by their backs to copper wires, and made to represent flying
angels in fairy dramas; and those appendages, so far from being natural,
are supplied by the property-man, together with the wreaths of artificial
flowers which each Liliputian divinity upholds.
_Sustenance._--All opera-dancers are decidedly omnivorous. Their appetite
is immense; quantity and (for most of them come from France), not quality,
is what they chiefly desire. When not dining at their own expense, they
eat all they can, and pocket the rest. Indeed, a celebrated
sylphide--unsurpassed for the graceful airiness of her evolutions--has
been known to make the sunflower in the last scene bend with the
additional weight of a roast pig, an apple pie, and sixteen _omelettes
soufflees_--drink, including porter, in proportion. Various philosophers
have endeavoured to account for this extraordinary digestive capacity; but
some of their arguments are unworthy of the science they otherwise adorn.
For example, it has been said that the great exertions to which the dancer
is subject demand a corresponding amount of nutriment, and that the
copious transudation superinduced thereby requires proportionate supplies
of suction; while, in point of fact, if such theorists had studied their
subject a little closer, they would have found these unbounded appetites
accounted for upon the most simple and conclusive ground: it is clear
that, as most opera-dancers' lives are passed in a _pirouette_, they must
naturally have enormous twists!
_The geographical distribution of opera-dancers_ is extremely well
defined, as their names implies; for they most do congregate wherever an
opera-house exists. Some, however, descend to the non-lyric drama, and
condescend to "illustrate" the plays of Shakespeare. It is said that the
classical manager of Drury Lane Theatre has secured a company of them to
help the singers he has engaged to perform Richard the Third, Coriolanus,
and other historical plays.
* * * * *
Why has a clock always a bashful appearance?--Because it always keeps its
hands before its face.
* * * * *
KIDNAPPING EXTRAORDINARY.
The _Chronicle_ has been making a desperate attempt to come out in Punch's
line; he has absolutely been trying the "Too-too-tooit--tooit;" but has
made a most melancholy failure of it. We could forgive him his efforts to
be facetious (though we doubt that his readers will) if he had not
kidnapped three of our own particular pets--the very men who lived and
grew in the world's estimation on our wits; we mean Peter Borthwick, Ben
D'Israeli, and our own immortal Sibthorp. Of poor Sib. the joker of the
_Chronicle_ says in last Tuesday's paper--
"We regret to hear that Col. Sibthorp has suffered severely by cutting
himself in the act of shaving. His friends, however, will rejoice to learn
that his whiskers have escaped, and that he himself is going on
favourably."
We spent an entire night in endeavouring to discover where the wit lay in
this _cutting_ paragraph; but were obliged at last to give it up,
convinced that we might as well have made
[Illustration: AN ATTEMPT TO DISCOVER THE LONGITUDE.]
* * * * *
SONGS OF THE SEEDY.--No. V.
What am I? Mary, wherefore seek to know?
For mystery's the very soul of love.
Enough, that wedding thee I'm not below,
Enough, that wooing thee I'm not above.
You smile, dear girl, and look into my face
As if you'd read my history in my eye.
I'm not, sweet maid, a footman out of place,
For that position would, I own, be shy.
What am I then, you ask? Alas! 'tis clear,
You love not me, but what I have a year.
What am I, Mary! Well, then, must I tell,
And all my stern realities reveal?
Come close then to me, dearest, listen well,
While what I am no longer I conceal.
I serve my fellow-men, a glorious right;
Thanks for that smile, dear maid, I know 'tis due.
Yes, many have I served by day and night;
With me to aid them, none need vainly sue.
Nay, do not praise me, love, but nearer come,
That I may whisper, I'm a _bailiff's bum_.
Why start thus from me? am I then a thing
To be despised and cast aside by thee?
Oh! while to every one I fondly cling
And follow all, will no one follow me?
Oh! if it comes to this, dear girl, no more
Shalt thou have cause upon my suit to frown;
I'll serve no writs again; from me secure,
John Doe may run at leisure up and down,
Come to my arms, but do not weep the less,
Thou art the last I'll e'er take in distress.
* * * * *
A PAIR OF DUCKS.
"Pray, Sir Peter," said a brother Alderman to the City Laurie-ate the
other day, while discussing the merits of Galloway's plan for a viaduct
from Holborn-hill to Skinner-street, "Pray, Sir Peter, can you inform me
what is the difference between a viaduct and an aqueduct?" "Certainly,"
replied our "City Correspondent," with amazing condescension; "a
_via-duck_ is a land-duck, and an _aqua-duck_ is a water-duck!" The
querist confessed he had no idea before of the immensity of Sir Peter's
scientific knowledge.
* * * * *
PUNCH'S THEATRE.
MARGARET MAYFIELD; OR, THE MURDER OF THE LONE FARM-HOUSE.
[Illustration: P]Prodigious! The minor drama has exhausted its stock of
major crimes: parricide is out of date; infanticide has become from
constant occurrence decidedly low; homicide grows tame and uninteresting;
and fratricide is a mere bagatelle, not worthy of attention. The dramatist
must therefore awaken new sympathies by contriving new crimes--he must
invent. In this the Sadler's Wells genius has been fortunate. He has
brought forward a novelty in assassination, which is harrowing in the
extreme: it may be called _Farm-house-icide_! Just conceive the pitch of
intense sympathy it is possible for one to feel, while beholding "the
_murder_ of a lone farm-house!" Arson is nothing to it.
Out of this novel domiciliary catastrophe the author of "Margaret
Mayfield" has formed a melodrama, which in every other respect is founded,
like a chancellor's decree, upon precedent; it being a good old-fashioned,
cut-throat piece, of the leather-breeches-and-gaiter, plough-and-pitchfork
school. A country-inn parlour of course commences the story, where certain
characters assemble, who reveal enough of themselves and of the characters
assumed by their fellows (at that time amusing themselves in the
green-room), to let any person the least acquainted with the literature of
melodrama into the secret of the entire plot. There is the villain, who is
as usual in love with the heroine, and in league with three ill-looking
fellows sitting at a separate table. There too is the old-established
farmer, who has about him a considerable sum of money--a fact he mentions
for the information of his pot-companions, on purpose to be robbed of it.
The low comedian as usual disports himself upon a three-legged stool,
dressed in the never-to-be-worn-out short _non_-continuations, skirtless
coat, and "eccentric" tile.
A scene or two afterwards, and we are surprised to find that the farmer is
safely housed, and that he has not been robbed upon a bleak moor on a dark
stage. But we soon feel a sensation of awe, when we learn that before us
is the interior of the very farm-house that is going to be murdered. The
farmer and his wife go through the long-standing dialogue of
stage-stereotype, about love and virtue, the price of turnips, and their
only child; and the husband goes to some fair with a friend, who had just
been rejected by his sister-in-law in favour of the villain. The coast
being left clear, the villain and his accomplices enter, and we know
something dreadful is going to happen, for the farmer's wife is gone out
of the way on purpose not to interrupt. The villain draws a knife and
drags his sweetheart into an out-house, and then the wife comes on to
describe what is passing; for the audiences of Sadler's Wells would tear
up the benches if they dared to murder out of sight, without being told
what is going on. Accordingly, we hear a scream, and the sister of the
screamer exclaims,--"Ah, horror! He draws the knife across her throat!
(Great applause.) But no; she takes up a broken ploughshare and escapes!
(A slight tendency to hiss.) Now he seizes her hair, he throws her down.
Ah! see how the blood streams from her----." (Intense delight as the woman
falls flat upon the boards, supposed to be overcome with dread.) A bloody
knife, of course, next enters, grasped by the villain; who, as usual,
remarks he is sorry for what has happened, but it can't be helped, and
must be made the best of. The woman having suddenly recovered, escapes
into an additional private box, or trunk, placed on the stage for that
purpose; stating that she will see what is going on from between the
cracks. The villain then murders the child, and walks off with his hands
in his pocket; leaving, as is always the case, the fatal knife in a most
conspicuous part of the stage, which for some seconds it has all to
itself. The farmer comes in, takes up the knife, and falls down in a fit,
just in time for the constables to come in and to take him up for the
murder. The wife jumps out of the box, and by her assistance a tableau is
formed for the act-drop to fall to.
Our readers, of course, guess the rest. The farmer is condemned to be
hanged; and in the last scene he is one of the never-omitted procession to
the gallows. At the cue, "Now then, I am ready to meet my fate like a
man," the screech in that case always made and provided is heard at a
distance. "Hold! hold! he is innocent!" are the next words; and enter the
wife with a pair of pistols, and a witness. The executioner pardons the
condemned on his own responsibility; and the villain comes on, on purpose
to be shot, which is done by the farmer, who seems determined not to be
accused of murder for nothing.
To these charming series of murders we may add that of the Queen's
English, which was shockingly maltreated, without the least remorse or
mitigation.
* * * * *
THE TWO LAST IMPORTANT SITTINGS.
Mr. Ross has had the last sitting of the Princess Royal for her portrait,
and the Tories the last sitting of Mr. Walter for Nottingham.
* * * * *
SIBTHORPIAN PROBLEMS.
Colonel Sibthorp presents his compliments to his dear friend and fellow,
PUNCH, and seeing in the _Times_ of Wednesday last a long account of the
extraordinary arithmetical powers of a new calculating machine, invented
by Mr. Wertheimber, he is desirous of asking the inventor, through the
ubiquitous pages of PUNCH, whether his, Mr. W.'s apparatus--which, as his
friend George Robins would say, is a lot which seems to be worthy only of
the great Bidder--(he thinks he had him there)--whether this automatical
American, or steam calculator, could solve for him the following
queries:--
If the House of Commons be divided by Colonel Sibthorp on the Corn Laws,
how much will it add to his credit?
How many times will a joke of Colonel Sibthorp's go into the London
newspapers?
Extract the root of Mr. Roebuck's family tree, and say whether it would
come out in anything but vulgar fractions.
Required the difference between political and imperial measures, and state
whether the former belong to dry or superficial.
If thirty-six be six square, what is St. James's-square?--and if the first
circles be resident there, say whether this may not be considered as an
approximation to the quadrature of the circle.
State the _contents_ of the House of Commons upon the next motion of Sir
Robert Peel, and whether the malcontents will be greater or less.
Required the capacities in feet between a biped, a quadruped, and a
centipede, and say whether the foot of Mr. Joseph Hume, being just as
broad as it is long, may not be considered as a square foot.
Express, in harmonious numbers, the proportion between the rhyme and the
reason of Mr. Benjamin D'Israeli's revolutionary epic, and say whether
this is not a question of _inverse_ ratio.
Whether, in political progression, the two extremes, Duke of Newcastle and
Feargus O'Connor, are equal to the mean Joseph Hume.
Is it possible to multiply the difficulties of the Whigs, and, if so, am I
the figure for the part?
What is the difference between the squares of Messrs. Tom Spring and John
Gully, and whether the one is the fourth, fifth, or what power of the
other?
* * * * *
A SLAP AT JOHN CHINAMAN'S CHOPS.
Peter Borthwick lately arrived at the highest possible pressure of
indignation, while reading some of the insolent fulminations from the
Celestial Empire. But Peter was sorely at a loss to account for their
singular names: he was instantly enlightened by the Finsbury interpreter,
our Tom Duncombe, who rendered the matter clear by asserting it was
because the Emperor was very partial to a
[Illustration: CHOP WITH CHINESE SAUCE.]
* * * * *
HUME LEEDS--WAKLEY FOLLOWS.
Joe Hume has written over to Wakley (postage unpaid) begging of him to
take warning by his beating at Leeds; as he much fears, should Mr. Wakley
continue his present line of conduct, when he next presents himself to his
Finsbury constituents there is great probability of
[Illustration: FOLLOWING IN THE BEATEN TRACK.]
* * * * *