Chapter 4

(REC.) If you ever should be In a state of _ennui_, Just listen to me, And without any fee I'll give you a hint how to set yourself free. Though dearth of intelligence weaken the news, And you feel an incipient attack of the blues, For amusement you never need be at a loss, If you take up the paper and _read it_ across. (INTER ARIA DEMI LOQUI.) Here's the _Times_, apropos, And so, With your patience, I'll show What I mean, by perusing a passage or two. (ARIA.) "Hem! Mr. George Robins is anxious to tell, In very plain prose, he's instructed to sell"-- "A vote for the county"--"packed neatly in straw"-- "Set by Holloway's Ointment"--"a limb of the law." "The army has had secret orders to seize"-- "As soon as they can"--"the industrious fleas." For amusement you never need be at a loss, If you take a newspaper and read it across.

"The opera opens with"--"elegant coats"-- "For silver and gold we exchange foreign notes"-- "Specific to soften mortality's ills"-- "And cure Yorkshire bacon"--"take Morison's pills." "Curious coincidence"--"steam to Gravesend." "Tale of deep interest"--"money to lend"-- "Louisa is waiting for William to send." For amusement you never need be at a loss, If you take a newspaper and read it across.

"For relief of the Poles"--"an astounding feat!"-- "A respectable man"--"for a water will eat"-- "The Macadamised portion of Parliament-street." "Mysterious occurrence!"--"expected _incog_." "To be viewed by cards only"--"a terrible fog." "At eight in the morning the steam carriage starts"-- "Takes passengers now"--"to be finished in parts." For amusement you never need be at a loss, If you take a newspaper and read it across.

"Left in a cab, and"--"the number not known" "A famous prize ox, weighing 200 stone"-- "He speaks with a lisp"--"has a delicate shape"-- "And had _on_, when he quitted, a Macintosh cape." "For China direct, a fine"--"dealer in slops." "To the curious in shaving"--"new way to dress chops." "Repeal of the corn"--"was roasted for lunch"-- "Teetotal beverage "--"Triumph of PUNCH!" For amusement you never need be at a loss, If you take a newspaper and read it across.

* * * * *

A CON. BY DUNCOMBE.

"Why are four thousand eight hundred and forty yards of land obtained on credit like a drinking song?"--"Because it's _an-acre-on-tic_."--"I think I had you there!"

* * * * *

A WOOD CUT.

A correspondent of one of the morning papers exultingly observes, that the _wood-blocks_ which are about being removed from Whitehall are in _excellent condition_. If this is an allusion to the present ministry, we should say, emphatically, NOT.

* * * * *

REVENGE IS SWEET.

The Tories in Beverley have been wreaking their vengeance on their opponents at the late election, by ordering their tradesmen who voted against the Conservative candidate to _send in their bills_. Mr. Duncombe declares that this is a mode of revenge he never would condescend to adopt.

* * * * *

If Farren, cleverest of men, Should go to the right about, What part of town will he be then?-- Why, _Farren-done-without!_

* * * * *

"WHAT HO! APOTHECARY."

Cox, a pill-doctor at Leeds, it is reported, modestly requested a check for £10, for the honour of his vote. Had his demand been complied with, we presume the bribe would have been endorsed, "This draught to be taken at poll time."

* * * * *

QUESTION BY THE DISOWNED OF NOTTINGHAM.

Why do men who are about to fight a duel generally choose a _field_ for the place of action?

ANSWER BY COLONEL SIBTHORP.

I really cannot tell; unless it be for the purpose of allowing the balls to _graze_.

* * * * *

REVIEW.

_Two Prize Essays_. By LORD MELBOURNE and SIR ROBERT PEEL. 8 vols. folio. London: Messrs. SOFTSKIN and TINGLE, Downing-street.

We congratulate the refined and sensitive publishers on the production of these elaborately-written gilt-edged folios, and trust that no remarks will issue from the press calculated to affect the digestion of any of the parties concerned. The sale of the volumes will, no doubt, be commensurate with the public spirit, the wisdom, and the benevolence which has uniformly characterised the career of their illustrated authors. Two more _statesmanlike_ volumes never issued from the press; in fact, the books may be regarded as typical of _all_ statesmen. The subject, or rather the line of argument, is thus designated by the respective writers:--

ESSAY I.--"On the Fine Art of Government, or how to do the least possible good to the country in the longest possible time, and enjoy, meanwhile, the most ease and luxury." By LORD MELBOURNE.

ESSAY II.--"On the Science of Governing, or how to do the utmost possible good for ourselves in the shortest possible time, under the name of our altars, and our throne, and everybody that is good and wise." By SIR ROBERT PEEL.

We are quite unable to enter into a review of these very costly productions, an estimate of the _value_ of which the public will be sure to receive from "authority," and be required to meet the amount, not only with cheerful loyalty, but a more weighty and less noisy _acknowledgment_.

As to the Prize, it has been adjudged by PUNCH to be divided equally between the two illustrious essayists; to the one, in virtue of his incorrigible laziness, and to the other, in honour of his audacious rapacity.

* * * * *

TO THE LAUGHTER-LOVING PUBLIC.

PUNCH begs to inform the inhabitants of Great Britain, Ireland, and the Isle of Dogs, that he has just opened on an entirely new line, an Universal Comic Railroad, and Cosmopolitan Pleasure Van for the transmission of _bon mots_, puns, witticisms, humorous passengers, and queer figures, to every part of the world. The engines have been constructed on the most laughable principles, and being on the high-pressure principle, the manager has provided a vast number of patent anti-explosive fun-belts, to secure his passengers against the danger of suddenly bursting.

The train starts every Saturday morning, under the guidance of an experienced punster. The departure of the train is always attended with immense laughter, and a tremendous rush to the booking-office. PUNCH, therefore, requests those who purpose taking places to apply early, as there will be no

N.B.--Light jokes booked, and forwarded free of expense. Heavy articles not admitted at any price.

*** Wanted an epigrammatic porter, who can carry on a smart dialogue, and occasionally deliver light jokes.

* * * * *

CHANT.

TO OLD FATHER TIME.

Time--old Time--whither away? Linger a moment with us, I pray; Too soon thou spreadest thy wings for flight; Dip, boy, dip In the bowl thy lip, And be jolly, old Time, with us to-night. Dip, dip, &c.

Time--old Time--thy scythe fling down; Garland thy pate with a myrtle crown, And fill thy goblet with rosy wine;-- Fill, fill up, The joy-giving cup, Till it foams and flows o'er the brim like mine. Fill, fill, &c.

Time--old Time--sighing is vain, Pleasure from thee not a moment can gain; Fly, old greybeard, but leave us your glass To fill as we please, And drink at our ease, And count by our brimmers the hours as they pass.

* * * * *

THE DRAMA

ROMEO AND JULIET.

Italy! land of love and maccaroni, of pathos and puppets--tomb of Romeo and Juliet--birth-place of Punch and Judy--region of romance--country of the concentrated essences of all these;--carnivals--I, PUNCH, the first and last, the alpha and omega of fun, adore thee! From the moment when I was cast upon thy shores, like Venus, out of the sea, to this sad day, when I am forced to descend from my own stage to mere criticism; have I preserved every token that would endear my memory to thee! My nose is still Roman, my mouth-organ plays the "genteelest of" Italian "tunes"--my scenes represent the choicest of Italian villas--in "choice Italian" doth my devil swear--to wit, "_shal-la-bella!_"

Longing to be still more reminded of thee, dear Italy, I threw a large cloak over my hunch, and a huge pair of spectacles over my nose, and ensconced myself in a box at the Haymarket Theatre, to witness the fourth appearance of my rival puppet, Charles Kean, in Romeo. He is an actor! What a deep voice--what an interesting lisp--what a charming whine--what a vigorous stamp, he hath! How hard he strikes his forehead when he is going into a rage--how flat he falls upon the ground when he is going to die! And then, when he has killed Tybalt, what an attitude he strikes, what an appalling grin he indulges his gaping admirers withal!

This is real acting that one pays one's money to see, and not such an unblushing imposition as Miss Tree practises upon us. Do we go to the play to see nature? of course not: we only desire to see the actors playing at being natural, like Mr. Gallot, Mr. Howe, Mr. Worral, or Mr. Kean, and other actors. This system of being too natural will, in the end, be the ruin of the drama. It has already driven me from the Stage, and will, I fear, serve the great performers I nave named above in the same manner. But the Haymarket Juliet overdoes it; she is more natural than nature, for she makes one or two improbabilities in the plot of the play seem like every-day matters of fact. Whether she falls madly in love at the first glance, agrees to be married the next afternoon, takes a sleeping draught, throws herself lifeless upon the bed, or wakes in the tomb to behold her poisoned lover, still in all these situations she behaves like a sensible, high-minded girl, that takes such circumstances, and makes them appear to the audience--quite as a matter of course! What let me ask, was the use of the author--whose name, I believe, was Shakspere--purposely contriving these improbabilities, if the actors do not make the most of them? I do hope Miss Tree will no longer impose upon the public by pretending to _act_ Juliet. Let her try some of the characters in Bulwer's plays, which want all her help to make them resemble women of any nation, kindred, or country.

Much as I admire Kean, I always prefer the acting of Wallack; there is more variety in the tones of his voice, for Kean tunes his pipes exactly as my long-drummer sets his drum;--to one pitch: but as to action, Wallack--more like my drummer--beats him hollow; he points his toes, stands a-kimbo, takes off his hat, and puts it on again, quite as naturally as if he belonged to the really legitimate drama, and was worked by strings cleverly pulled to suit the action to _every_ word. Wallack is an honest performer; _he_ don't impose upon you, like Webster, for instance, who as the Apothecary, speaks with a hungry voice, walks with a tottering step, moves with a helpless gait, which plainly shows that he never studied the part--he must have starved for it. Where will this confounded naturalness end?

The play is "got up," as we managers call it, capitally. The dresses are superb, and so are the properties. The scenery exhibited views of different parts of the city, and was, so far as I am a judge, well painted. I have only one objection to the balcony scene. Plagiarism is mean and contemptible--I despise it. I will not apply to the Vice-Chancellor for an injunction, because the imitation is so vilely caricatured; but the balcony itself is the very counterpart of PUNCH'S theatre!--PUNCH.

* * * * *

MY FRIEND THE CAPTAIN.

When a new farce begins with duck and green peas, it promises well; the sympathies of the audience are secured, especially as the curtain rises but a short time before every sober play-goer is ready for his supper. Mr. Gabriel Snoxall is seated before the comsstibles above mentioned--he is just established in a new lodging. It is snug--the furniture is neat--being his own property, for he is an _un_furnished lodger. A bachelor so situated must be a happy fellow. Mr. Snoxall is happy--a smile radiates his face--he takes wine with himself; but has scarcely tapped the decanter for his first glass, before he hears a tap at his door. The hospitable "Come in!" is answered by the appearance of Mr. Dunne Brown, a captain by courtesy, and Snoxall's neighbour by misfortune. Here business begins.

The ancient natural historian has divided the _genus homo_ into the two grand divisions of victimiser and victim. Behold one of each class before you--the yeast and sweat-wort, as it were, which brew the plot! Brown invites himself to dinner, and does the invitation ample justice; for he finds the peas as green as the host; who he determines shall be done no less brown than the duck. He possesses two valuable qualifications in a diner-out--an excellent appetite, and a habit of eating fast, consequently the meal is soon over. Mr. Brown's own tiger clears away, by the ingenious method of eating up what is left. Mr. Snoxall is angry, for he is hungry; but, good easy man, allows himself to be mollified to a degree of softness that allows Mr. Brown to borrow, not only his tables and chairs, but his coat, hat, and watch; just, too, in the very nick of time, for the bailiffs are announced. What is the hunted creditor to do? Exit by the window to be sure.

A character invented by farce-writers, and retained exclusively for their use--for such folks are seldom met with out of a farce--lives in the next street. He has a lovely daughter, and a nephew momentarily expected from India, and with those persons he has, of course, not the slighest acquaintance; and a niece, by marriage, of whose relationship he is also entirely unconscious. His parlours are made with French windows; they are open, and invite the bailiff-hunted Brown into the house. What so natural as that he should find out the state of family affairs from a loquacious Abigail, and should personate the expected nephew? Mr. Tidmarsh (the property old gentleman of the farce-writers) is in ecstacics. Mrs. T. sees in the supposed Selbourne a son-in-law for her daughter, whose vision is directed to the same prospects. Happy, domestic circle! unequalled family felicity! too soon, alas! to be disturbed by a singular coincidence. Mr. Snoxall, the victim, is in love with Miss Sophia, the daughter. Ruin impends over Brown; but he is master of his art: he persuades Snoxall not to undeceive the family of Tidmarsh, and kindly undertakes to pop the question to Sophia on behalf of his friend, whose sheepishness quite equals his softness. Thus emboldened, Brown inquires after a "few loose sovereigns," and Snoxall, having been already done out of his chairs, clothes, and watch, of course lends the victimiser his purse, which contains twenty.

Mr. Brown's career advances prosperously; he makes love in the dark to his supposed cousin _pro_ Snoxall, in the hearing of the supposed wife (for the real Selbourne has been married privately) and his supposed friend, both supposing him false, mightily abuse him, all being still in the dark. At length the real Selbourne enters, and all supposition ends, as does the farce, poetical justice being administered upon the captain by courtesy, by the bailiffs who arrest him. Thus he, at last, becomes really Mr. Dunne Brown.

The farce was successful, for the actors were perfect, and the audience good-humoured. We need hardly say who played the hero; and having named Wrench, as the nephew, who was much as usual, everybody will know how. Mr. David Rees is well adapted for Snoxall, being a good figure for the part, especially in the duck-and-green-peas season. The ladies, of whom there were four, performed as ladies generally do in farces on a first night.

We recommend the readers of PUNCH to cultivate the acquaintance of "My Friend the Captain." They will find him at home every evening at the Haymarket. We suspect his paternity may be traced to a certain _corner_, from whose merit several equally successful broad-pieces have been issued.

* * * * *

LITERARY QUERIES AND REPLIES

BY DISTINGUISHED PERSONAGES.

QUESTION BY SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER, BART,

"What romance is that which outght to be most admired in the kitchen?"

ANSWER BY THEODORE HOOK.

"Don Quixote; because it was written by _Cervantes_--(servantes).--Rather low, Sir Ned."

QUESTION BY LADY BLESSINGTON,

"When is a lady's neck not a neck?"

ANSWER BY LADY MORGAN.

"For shame now!--When it is a _little bare_ (bear), I suppose."

* * * * *

A SPEECH FROM THE HUSTINGS.

The following is a correct report of a speech made by one of the candidates at a recent election in the north of England.

THOMAS SMITH, Esq., then presented himself, and said--" * * * * * * * * crisis * * * * * * * * * * * * * important dreadful * * * * * industry * * * * * * enemies * * slaves * * independence * * * * * * freedom * * * * * firmly * * * * gloriously * * * * contested * * * * * * support * * * * victory, Hurrah!----"

Mr. Smith then sat down; but we regret that the uproar which prevailed, prevents us giving a fuller report of his very eloquent and impressive speech.

* * * * *

FASHIONABLE MOVEMENTS.

COUNT D'ORSAY declares that no gentleman having the slightest pretensions to fashionable consideration can be seen out of doors except on a Sunday, as on that day bailiffs and other low people keep at home.

* * * * *

EPIGRAM ON A VERY LARGE WOMAN.

"All flesh is grass," so do the Scriptures say; But grass, when cut and dried, is turned to hay; Then, lo; if Death to thee his scythe should take, God bless us! what a haycock thou wouldst make.

* * * * *

An author that lived somewhere has such a _brilliant_ wit, that he contracted to light the parish with it, and did it.

"Our church clock," say the editors of a down-cast paper, "_keeps time_ so well that we _get_ a day out of every week by it."

A man in Kentucky has a horse which is so slow, that his hind legs always get first to his journey's end.

* * * * *