Punchinello Vol. 2, No. 28, October 8, 1870 - Various
* * *
I was very much interested in this story, very much indeed, and so I
jostled the long-haired man--who was about falling asleep--and asked him
if anything was done to this wicked SLUKER.
He looked at me reproachfully. "What's the matter with you, my friend?"
he said, in the same melancholy voice. "Don't you know who I am? I write
for the _Ledger_, and whenever 'I draw a vail, etc.,' that ends it, that
does!"
As we stepped from the steamer to the landing, I observed a youth of
about six summers dressed in the most elaborately agonizing manner. He
had two Schutzenfest targets in his cuffs; in one hand he held an
enormous cane, in the other a cigar, and through an eyeglass he gazed at
the ankles on the gang-plank with an air of patient weariness with this
slow old world that was very touching.
"Where," I exclaimed as I surveyed this show-card of a fast generation,
"O! where have our _children_ vanished? Take from childhood the
sparkling water of its purity--the sugar of its innocent affections--its
ardent but refreshing spirits--and what, ah! what have we left?"
"Nothing," said the melancholy voice at my elbow. "Absolutely nothing
save the mint and the straw!"
And he was right, my dear PUNCHINELLO, he was right.
SAGINAW DODD.
* * * * *
"SOLEMN SILENCE."
Perhaps very few persons--and especially very few members of the
Republican party--are aware that a monument to ABRAHAM LINCOLN has at
last been completed, and that it has been placed on the site allotted
for it in Union Square. It is very creditable to the Republican Party
that they exercised such control over their feelings when the day for
unveiling the LINCOLN Monument arrived. Some parties might have made a
demonstration on the occasion of post-mortuary honors being accorded to
a leader whom they professed to worship while he lived, and whom they
demi-deified after his death. No such extravagant folly can be laid at
the door of the Republican Party. "Let bygones be bygones" is their
motto. They allowed their "sham ABRAHAM," in heroic bronze, to be
hoisted on to his pedestal in Union Square in solitude and silence. That
was commendable. A live ass is better than a dead lion; and so the
Republican Party, who consider themselves very much alive, went to look
after their daily thistles and left their dead lion in charge of a
policeman.
* * * * *
THE PLAYS AND SHOWS.
LOTTA is lithe; (which is alliterative,) pretty, piquant, and addicted
to the banjo. The latter characteristic is inseparable from her. In
whatever situation the dramatist may place her, whether in a London
drawing-room or a Cockney kitchen, whether on an Algerian battle-field
or in a California mining-camp, she is certain to produce the inevitable
banjo, and to sing the irrepressible comic song. In fact, her plays are
written not for LOTTA, but for LOTTA'S banjo. The dramatist takes the
presence of the banjo as the central fact of his drama, and weaves his
plot around it. His play is made on the model of that celebrated drama
written to introduce Mr. CRUMMLES'S pump and tubs. Thus does he preserve
the sacred unity of LOTTA and the banjo.
_Heart's Ease_--in which she is now playing at NIBLO'S Garden, is
plainly born of the banjo, and lives for that melodious instrument
alone. The author said to himself, "A California mining-camp would be a
nice place for a banjo solo." Wherefore he conceived the camp, with a
chorus of red-shirted miners. Wherefore too, he created a comic Yankee
who should be eccentric enough to bring a banjo to the camp, and a lover
who should be charmed by its touching strains. It required a prologue
and three acts to enable him to successfully introduce the banjo. In a
somewhat condensed form, these acts and this prologue are here set
forth.
PROLOGUE. _A seedy husband who is audaciously palmed upon the public as
a Reasoning Animal is discovered in a London garret, with a
healthy-looking wife, in a rapid consumption_.
REASONING ANIMAL. "I loved you, my dear, and therefore brought you from
a comfortable home to this dreary garret. I cannot bear to leave you, so
I will go out for a walk." (_The bell rings, and the wife's mother,
brother and family physician enter._)
MOTHER. "You must leave your husband and come home and live with us."
BROTHER. "Of course you must. You need not hesitate about a little thing
like that. Go into the other room and consult the Doctor. Here comes
your husband." (_Re-enter_ REASONING ANIMAL.)
REASONING ANIMAL. "Her berrotherr! Herre!"
BROTHER, "Yes. You can't support your wife. The Doctor says she needs
nice parties and other necessaries of life. Give her to us, and go to
California."
REASONING ANIMAL. "I will. Bring her here till I embrace her. (_She is
brought._) Farewell, my dear. I will go and make my fortune."
WIFE. "Take our little girl with you."
REASONING ANIMAL. "I will, for she needs a mother's care. Good-bye!
Leave me to weep and wash the baby's face and hands alone."
ACT I.--_Scene, a California mining-camp. Various miners of assorted
nationalities--one of each--hard at work lying on the ground._
1ST MINER. "I want more whiskey."
CHORUS. "So do we."
2ND MINER. "MAY WILDROSE won't sell any more."
CHORUS. "But she gives it to her lover."
3RD MINER. "He looks clean; he must have found a nugget. Let's kill
him."
4TH MINER. "Sh--we will." (_Enter_ MAY WILDROSE--_which her name it is_
MISS LOTTA.)
MAY. "Here comes my darling LIONEL. Let me get you some brandy, love."
LIONEL. "Certainly, my dear. How full of forethought is a true woman's
love!"
CHORUS of MINERS. "She gives it to him, but not to us. Beware, young
woman, or we will go back on you."
MAY. "No you won't. My father earns a laborious living by making me keep
a whiskey shop. We have a monopoly of the business, and you will have to
buy of us, whether you like it or not. Get out of my sight, or I'll lick
the whole boiling of you." (_They fly, and she returns to the parental
whiskey shop._)
LIONEL. "Night is coming on. I will go among the rocks; why, I don't
know, but still I will go." (_Goes. Three miners follow and attack
him._)
LIONEL. "Save me, somebody."
MAY. _Appearing suddenly with a revolver_--"You bet." (_She shoots the
miners and brings down the curtain triumphantly._)
ACT II.--_Scene--the whiskey shop of the_ REASONING ANIMAL.--LIONEL
_asleep on a bed evidently borrowed from some boarding-house--since it
is several feet too short for him_.--MAY _engaged in peeling
potatoes.--Enter_ REASONING ANIMAL.
REASONING ANIMAL. "My daughter! I see you are passionately in love with
LIONEL. Therefore, as I know him to be a fine young fellow, you must
never see him more." (_Enter_ COMIC YANKEE.)
COMIC YANKEE. "Here's your new banjo, Miss MAY. Play us something comic
and depressing."
MAY. "Thank Heaven, I can get at the banjo at last" (_Plays and is
encored a dozen times._)
COMIC YANKEE. "Miss MAY, you must go and take a walk." (_She goes._)
"LIONEL, you are well enough to leave this ranche. Get up and get."
LIONEL. "Farewell, beloved whiskey shop. Tell MAY I am going to leave
her, and give her my sketches. If she once looks at them, she can love
me no longer." (_Goes out to slow music. Re-enter_ MAY.)
MAY. "The wretch has left me without a word. I will bury his infamous
sketches under the floor. They may frighten away the rats." (_Pulls up
the floor and finds an immense nugget. Her father rushes in to see it.
Two miners also see it and try to raise it. They are promptly seen and
called by_ MAY, _who shoots one and holds the pistol pointed at the
other, while the curtain slowly falls._)
ACT III.--_Scene, a London drawing-room. Enter_ MAY, _gorgeously
dressed. Also her father, who has forgotten all about his wife, and
also_ LIONEL _and the_ COMIC YANKEE.
COMIC YANKEE. "Let us sing."
MAY. "Come on, old hoss." (_They sing and dance for an hour, such being
the pleasant custom of fashionable London society._)
MAY. "Miss CLARA! I understand you are engaged to marry LIONEL, and that
if you marry anybody else you lose your dower of twenty thousand pounds.
Sell LIONEL to me, and I will give you a check for the amount."
CLARA. "Thanks, noble stranger, there is the receipt. Hand over the
money."
LIONEL. "Dearest MAY, as you must have a pretty large bank account, to
be able to draw checks for twenty thousand pounds, I am quite sure I
love you."
MAY. "Come to my arms. Now then, everybody, how is that for high!"
(_Slow curtain, relieved by eccentric gymnastics by the_ COMIC YANKEE.)
BOY IN THE AUDIENCE. "Pa! isn't that splendid?"
DISCRIMINATING PARENT. "What! How! Who! Where am I? O, to be sure, I
came to see _Heart's Ease_, and to take my evening nap. Did LOTTA play
the banjo?"
BOY. "O didn't she just. She played and sung dead loads of times."
DISCRIMINATING PARENT. "I have had a sweet nap. My son, I think I can
now risk taking you to the minstrels. If I slept through this, I could
feel reasonably sure of sleeping through even the dark conundrums and
sentimental colored ballads. There is only a shade of difference between
the two styles of performance, and that slight shade is only burnt
cork."
MATADOR.
* * * * *
Mural Decorations in Rome.
The "dead walls" of Rome, as we learn from the telegrams, were lately
placarded with immense posters proclaiming the Italian Republic.
Rome being an "Eternal City," we were not previously aware that any of
her walls were dead. If they are, however, it may be that the posters of
the posters referred to took that method of bringing them to life again,
which may be looked on as a _post mortem_ proceeding.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE RETORT COURTEOUS.
_Newly-arrived Briton._ "ENGLISH SPARROWS?--IMPOSSIBLE. WHY, THEY CHIRP
THROUGH THEIR LITTLE NOSES LIKE WEGULAR YANKEES."
_Park-Keeper._ "WELL, I DON'T KNOW, BUT IT TAKES TWO MEN AND A CART,
EVERY DAY TO REMOVE THE 'Hs' DROPPED BY THEM ABOUT THE PARK."]
* * * * *
OUR PORTFOLIO.
PARIS, FIRST WEEK OF THE REPUBLIC, 1870.
DEAR PUNCHINELLO: Things are becoming so mixed here that I am thinking
of retiring to Tours with the other tourists. The city is all on the
go--that is to say, the non-combatants are all going out of it as fast
as possible.
GAMBETTA left here the early part of the week, and it was better for him
that he should. I wouldn't give a _sou_ for any of these republicans if
they chance to fall into the clutches of King WILLIAM. It is reported
that he has issued an order for the strangulation of all French children
between the ages of three and five, in reprisal for the treacherous
blowing up of Germans at Laon.
BISMARCK has requested the privilege of cooking ROCHEFORT'S mutton for
him, should he be taken alive when Paris falls. What he means by
"cooking his mutton" has not yet transpired, but it is gloomily
vaticinated that he intends to boil him down. ROCHEFORT mutton with
caper sauce ought to satisfy the epicurean taste of BISMARCK, especially
as ROCHEFORT would cease his caperings from that hour. Late last night
there was an alarm in the city that the whole Prussian army was at
Noisy-le-Sec. As you may have suspected, a noisy demonstration followed
this announcement.
I got out of bed, rang the bell, and requested the _concierge_ to bring
me an auger. The man looked a little astonished at what he undoubtedly
considered a strange request.
For a man to get out of bed in the middle of the night and call for an
auger, was indeed a trifle peculiar. When he brought it, I increased his
astonishment by proceeding to bore a hole through the top of my trunk.
"_C'est un imbecile_," said the concierge, retreating a step or two.
"Not much," I retorted, boring away with renewed vigor. Presently the
orifice was made. Into it I thrust an Alpen stock which had accompanied
me in many a toilsome march through Switzerland, and lifting the lid,
took from the cradle of the trunk a star-spangled banner made of silk,
which had been presented to me by the Young Men's Christian Association
of New York, prior to my departure for Europe, as a token of their
esteem for my services in the capacity of a "reformed drunkard." I
fastened the flag to the stock, put my boots, clothes and other
valuables on top of the trunk, and in a voice intended to express my
defiance of King WILLIAM and his German Lagerheads, spoke these words:
Wave fearless, there, thou standard sheet!
That Yankee trunk and all it holds
(Though Prussian hirelings throng each street)
Is safe beneath thy starry folds!
Saying which I dismissed the humiliated _concierge_, took a drink, blew
out the _bougie_, and sank into the arms of "Tired nature's sweet
restorer."
Instances like the above are quite common among Americans in Paris. It
was only the other day at the depot of the _Chemin de fer du Nord_ that
I saw a sick Bostonian sitting on his trunk outside the gates, waiting
for a chance to get into the train, with a Skye-terrier between his legs
wrapped in the American flag. You easily get accustomed to such sights,
and don't think anything about them.
Yesterday I called at the office of the American Minister. I gave the
porter my card, and asked if "WASH." was in. He eyed me strangely. (Most
people when they first see me generally do. I have thought sometimes
that a certificate of good character posted conspicuously about my
person would obviate this--but as they say here, "_n' importe_.")
"I'll see," said the porter, in reply to my question. He walked off,
taking with him the door mat, an umbrella that stood in the hall, four
coats and three hats that hung on the rack, besides numerous other small
portable articles of _vertu_ that would have come handy for a
professional "lifter."
I did not consider this movement a reflection upon my character, for it
seemed but appropriate that he should do it. "What," said I to myself,
"are porters for, but to remove portable articles?"
"WASH" was in, and fortunately for me, too, as I obtained a bit of news
that has not yet been printed in the cable dispatches from "Private
Sources."
It came by letter from General FORSYTH, SHERIDAN'S aide-de-camp and Lord
High Chamberlain, and was to the effect that SHERIDAN had not tasted a
drop of whiskey or uttered an oath since landing in Germany. WASH, asked
me to communicate the fact to you with the request that you would
forward it to the "Society for the Encouragement of Practical Piety" at
Boston. He also told me that, between looking after German interests in
Paris and receiving ovations from enthusiastic mobs, he didn't think he
could do justice to his salary.
"WASH," says I, "it isn't so much that, as it is that the salary doesn't
do justice to you. If that's the case speak right out; PUNCHINELLO can
fix it for you." This took WASH. so suddenly that he couldn't speak, but
his eyes were running over with language. Don't move in the matter,
however, till you hear from me again, when I shall have something more
to tell you about the march of the Prussians to this capital, and the
capital march I propose to make out of it.
Yours, in a revolutionary state, DICK TINTO.
* * * * *
NEW PUBLICATIONS.
MONSIEUR SYLVESTRE. By GEORGE SAND. Boston: ROBERTS BROTHERS.
A welcome version of one of Madame DUDEVANT'S novels, well rendered into
English by Mr. F.G. SHAW. It is issued in very neat and attractive
form, and is one of a series of the SAND novels, publishing by Messrs.
ROBERTS.
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