Punchinello, Vol. 1, No. 6, May 7, 1870 by Various
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Various >> Punchinello, Vol. 1, No. 6, May 7, 1870
Why, look!
You've got no end of articles.
Sure to be smashed to particles,
Or "snaked off" with a "hook"!
You've got
Chairs, bedsteads, tables, crockery--
(Recital seems a mockery!)
You've got--what have you not?
What's worse,
Your things won't fit new places,
Your wife won't like new faces--
Your very maid will curse!
Your hat
And other things _do_ fall so!
And children they _do_ bawl so!
Good heavens! think of that,
And think
Of possible colds and fevers--
Cartmen that prove deceivers--
Nothing to eat or drink!
Small bliss
For bachelors so lonely--.
Tired of one thing only:
But they escape all this!
And pray,
What man with sons and daughters
Don't sigh for bachelor quarters
About the First of May?
* * * * *
Printed, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District
Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.
* * * * *
THE DELIGHTS OF DOUGHERTY.
At the Banquet of the Army of the Potomac in Philadelphia, Mr. DANIEL
DOUGHERTY made one of the most extraordinary speeches on record, if we
except certain forensic efforts of Mr. PUNCHINELLO delivered during the
earlier stages of his career from his box. Mr. DOUGHERTY is a Soarer,
and a Spreader, and a Screamer. Speaking metaphorically, be goes higher,
measures more from the tip of one wing to the other, and is more
suggestive of the warbling of a locomotive in his speech than any other
Eagle in Philadelphia, which is saying a great deal. DANIEL is a Giant
of Rhetoric, and would remind us of the Big Gentleman from Cardiff, only
that mysterious personage is too heavy to Soar; for which reason he
usually occupies the ground floor, which Mr. DOUGHERTY does not do by
any manner of means.
It was this extraordinary capacity of Mr. DOUGHERTY for Soaring which
caused him to be called upon by the Army of the Potomac for a speech.
The great D. begins by declaring that he would rather speak for his
country than for Pennsylvania, which, considering that he also declared
that he came "as a modest spectator," does not strike us as the depth of
humility. However, "my bosom," said Mr. D., "is not confined to any
locality;" and we believe that Mr. PECKSNIFF said something like this of
his own frontal linen. Yet, we should like to know what Mr. DOUGHERTY
does for a chest when his own has gone upon its extensive journeys;
something temporary is done, we suppose, with a pad. But the Bosom was
at the Banquet, and the proprietor was there to thump it, until it must
have sounded and reverberated; and if Mr. DOUGHERTY had also thumped his
head, there would have been equal evidence of hollowness within. "May my
tongue never prove a traitor!" cried the orator. Mr. PUNCHINELLO hastens
to reassure him. The tongue is well enough, and is likely to be. It's
something a little higher up that is likely to give out.
If the applause of the brave men before him was what Mr. DOUGHERTY
wanted, (besides his dinner,) then of applause he got the Stomach under
his Bosom full. The speech was received, according to the reporters,
with a roaring which has not been equalled since the Lions in the Den
roared at the other DANIEL, until they found that the good man was
neither to be roared or sneezed at with impunity. The cheering was
"tremendous." The cheering was "terrific." The cheering was "prolonged."
And there stood "the Bosom not confined to any locality," but just then
swelling, and expanding, and dilating--shall we for once be fine, and
say like an Ocean Billow? Voices which shouted at Gettysburg now hailed
Mr. DANIEL DOUGHERTY as a Conquering Hero--the conqueror of their cars!
Once in a while there was "great laughter" when Mr. D.D. hadn't said any
thing specially funny--that is, if Mr. PUNCHINELLO is a judge of fun;
and if he isn't, who in all the world is? There are two kinds of
laughter--the laughing at and the laughing with; and we have known
"tremendous" and even "vociferous" applause to be very suspicious.
It must be a source of calm satisfaction to General GRANT to know that
he is considered the "great and glorious GRANT" by Mr. DANIEL DOUGHERTY;
although DANIEL once considered Mr. BUCHANAN, poor man! to be equally
"great and glorious." So DANIEL also considers SHERMAN to be "immortal,"
and SHERIDAN "unconquerable," and MEADE "glorious." Adjectives are
cheap, you know; and D.D., Esq., has evidently a great stock of them in
his Wandering Bosom. Only, great soldiers, who know the precise value of
Mr. DOUGHERTY'S military opinions, might not care to have them laid on
too thickly.
Mr. PUNCHINELLO has written to Mr. DOUGHERTY'S Family Doctor to inquire
into the state of Mr. D's health after this tremendous effort, and he
sends us a bulletin that Mr. D. is "as well as could be expected." We do
not know what he means by this; it seems to us to lack scientific
precision. The point upon which we wished to be informed was, whether
Mr. D. did or did not break any thing--not the tumblers on the table,
for that we should expect; but any thing in the way of blood-vessels.
Not to put too fine a point upon it, How's the Bosom?
* * * * *
AMERICAN CUTLERY IN FRANCE.
The great pride, the _dulce decus_ of Americans, has long been in their
pocket hardware, and the skill with which they use it. But we must
henceforth look to our laurels. France is competing alarmingly with us
in the use of the revolver. They were always a revolutionary people,
were the French, and revolving seems, therefore, to suit their temper to
a T, (Gunpowder T, of course.) Since the slaying of NOIR by BONAPARTE,
the affectation of readiness with the pistol has become quite the thing
in Paris. New-York and Paris will soon be exactly alike in the bullet
business--especially Paris. PAUL DE CASSAGNAC, it seems, has been
invited by some anonymous person to meet him at a certain hour in front
of the _mairie_ of the Seventeenth _arrondissement_, for the purpose of
having his brains removed with a revolver. PAUL declined to go, however.
The _Mairie_ mentioned in the cartel was not the one for PAUL. Probably
he would have gone to VIRGINIA, had he been invited to do so; but never
a MAIRIE for the faithful PAUL. And might have come by way of New-York,
where he would soon have grown so used to having his brains removed with
a revolver that the process would have become a pleasure to him.
* * * * *
PHILADELVINGS.
PUNCHINELLO cannot help liking Philadelphia, and always feels a pang of
sympathy whenever any thing happens to that plain old city. One reason
for this is, (and he is not ashamed of the weakness,) that Philadelphia
likes PUNCHINELLO and takes, weekly, he would not be vain enough to say
how many hundred copies of his journal. And now Philamaclink, as her
natives love to call her, is afflicted with a terrible disease--a
fearful attack of chronic Legislature. Even when the active symptoms of
this dread malady have subsided, the effects linger, and the consequent
suffering is excruciating. One of the direst of the effects of the last
attack is a dreadful bill--not a bile--which has caused a utilization
sewage company to appear upon her body corporate. It is almost
impossible for sister cities to understand the torments of such an
affliction. Nobody can now clear away their own dirt--Councils, Board of
Health, or any body else. If rooms are swept, the sewage company must
take up the dust; if a pig-pen or a stable needs cleaning, the company
must do it; if the lady of a house throws the slops out of her breakfast
cups, the company must carry them away; if a man knocks the ashes from
his cigar, he must save them for the company; if, anywhere in the city,
a foul word is spoken, the company must have the benefit of it. Even the
birds in the squares must not cleanse their nests without a printed
permit from the company. If a bedstead is cleaned, the company must have
the bugs. Only one dirty thing is safe from this all-powerful
corporation, and that is the legisiative delegation from the city. If
the refuse matter were taken from that, there would be nothing left. It
has been proposed that the Legislature itself should be purified; but
this idea is Utopian, PUNCHINELLO fears. If Niagara were squirted
through its halls, the water would be dirtied, but the halls would not
be cleansed. Alas, poor city! Trampled under the heels of the
aristocratic HONG and PENNY BUNN, what is there to hope for it?
But all has not been told. There are about eight hundred thousand
inhabitants in the place. Some twenty thousand of these owe small sums
for unpaid taxes, averaging about nine and a quarter cents to a man. To
collect these sums, an army of seventy-two thousand able-bodied men, at
salaries of one thousand dollars per annum, has been commissioned by the
PENNY BUNN Legislature.
Alas, poor city! But all has not been told. A private firm has prevailed
upon the imbecile old farmers from the western and interior counties to
give them the right to build a private freight railroad through many of
the principal streets of the Quaker City. This road will run through
several school-house yards, and the time-tables are to be so arranged
that trains shall always be due at those points at recess time. Every
fiftieth private house along the lines is to have a road-station and
freight-depot in its front-parlor, and all male residents on said routes
are to serve in turn, without pay, as brakesmen and switch-tenders. The
owners of all vehicles injured by the trains are to be heavily fined,
and the families of individuals allowing themselves to be killed are to
be mulcted in heavy damages.
Alas, poor city! But all has not yet been told. A counterfeit tax-bill
has been passed by the Legislature. All the sums handed in to the State
Treasury by the tax collectors have been found to be "bogus" money. This
action has been indorsed by the Legislature, and the action of that body
is hereafter to be of the same character as the funds paid in by its
creatures.
Alas, poor city! But all has not yet been told. Colonel FORNEY intends
resuming his "Occasional" letters in the _Press!_
Enough! Humanity can bear no more.
* * * * *
Query by a Constitutional Student.
When the Governor or President V-toes a bill, is he supposed to put
his foot on it?
* * * * *
THE PLAYS AND SHOWS.
SPECTACLES are proverbially fit for old eyes. Probably that is the
reason why the spectacle of the _Twelve Temptations_ is so dear to the
aged eyes of the gray-haired old gentlemen who occupy the front seats at
the Grand Opera House. It is certainly a brilliant spectacle, though,
like the ideal scene to which Mrs. NICKLEBY's eccentric and vegetarian
lover once referred, it consists principally of "gas and gaiters." Not
that it is exclusively an Old Folks' entertainment; for, as the critics
say of portentously dull juvenile books, "it will be found as
interesting to the young as to the old." Though the dullest of dramas,
it is so brightened by brilliant legs that it dazzles every beholder.
Why, then, should the stern advocate of the legitimate drama refuse to
acknowledge that the _Twelve Temptations_ has its redeeming legs? How
runs the ancient proverb, "Singed milk is better than it looks;" or that
equally ancient philosophical maxim, "There is no use in crying over
spilt cats"? The stupid story of ULRIC'S folly is made more attractive
than one would suppose that it could be, and we need not weep over the
fact that it is a spectacle, and not a SHAKESPEAREAN tragedy.
The bold explorers who have reached the remote Opera House,
fought their way past the misanthropic door-keeper, and gained their
seats, are first reduced to a state of mental chaos by the performance
of a maddening overture, and are then fitted to appreciate the play,
which proceeds after the following pattern:
_Act 1. Curtain rises upon a score of Unintelligible Demons_, who sing
this impressive chorus:
"Oh! um um um um
For um um um um
And um um um um
To um um um um."
_Exeunt Demons. Enter_ RUDOLPH THE TEMPTER. _He remarks to the
surrounding scenery_--"ULLERIC'S soul must be mine, or else the dark
abodes of torment await me. I will tempt him. Great Master, appear."
_The Great Master--a major-general of fiends--appears, and, approving
of_ RUDOLPH'S _virtuous resolve, they descend to--well, they descend
below the Erie Building, to drink to his success. Scene changes to_
ULRIC'S _home. Enter_ ULRIC _and family, including Aged Mother, Virtuous
Heroine, Hated Rival, and Demoniac Servant._
ULRIC. "Motherr, this slife is intollerrabble; I will do any thing to
escape frrrom it."
_Enter_ RUDOLPH _and Unintelligible Demons (disguised.) They sing as
before._
"Oh! um um um um," etc.
ULRIC. "The song says terruly. I will go with you, though you were the
fiend himself."
_Consternation on the part of every one. Demoniac Servant remarks, "Ha!
ha!"_ ULRIC _and the Demons sink through the floor. Scene changes to the
Studio of Eblis._
RUDOLPH. "Take this collar. Behold these stripes painted upon it.
Whatever you wish you shall have at the price of five years of your
life. A stripe will vanish each time your wish is gratified. (_Aside._)
The stripes are only cloth, you know, and you can pull 'em off when your
back is turned to the audience. Is it a bargain?"
ULRIC. "It 'er is." (_Malignant crash from the orchestra._)
RUDOLPH. "ULLERIC, 'tis well. Now thou shall behold our sports."
_Enter ballet girls, dressed in red gaiters and torches. They dance the
Demon Cancan, waving their torches and scattering the flames. Old
Gentleman, in the front row hears such charming little asides as, "Drat
you,_ MARY SMITH, _you've burnt my hand." "I'll slap your face, Miss, if
you step on my foot again." "O_ NELLY! _my hair's a-coming down."_
Curtain finally falls upon a blaze of light and a bewildering wealth of
legs.
_Old Gentleman, in front row._ "Well, he! he! that's pretty good; he! he!
Devilish pretty girls some of 'em; he! he!"
_Virtuous Matron._ "My dear, isn't it shameful. I never saw any thing so
disgusting."
_Sceptical Husband._ "Then perhaps we'd better go at once."
_Virtuous Matron._ "N--no. I'll sit through one more act, and see if it
gets any worse."
_Fast Young Man._ "They're all padded, you know. You can't feel sure
about one of 'em. There were gals in the _Crook_ who used to pad their's
from here to here"--(_adds explanatory pantomime._)
_Travelled Man, who has been to Paris._ "These girls can't dance, I
assure you. Now, at the Chatelet they do these things differently."
_Admiring Friend to Travelled Man._ "What spectacles did you see at the
Chatelet?"
_Travelled Man,_ (who was in Paris only two days, and never saw even the
outside of the theatre.) "It was--let me see--Oh! _Moses in Egypt_ was
the name of the piece. It was gorgeous; full of Egyptian scenery, and
Egyptian dancing girls and things."
_Admiring Friend, (with aggravating persistence.)_ "Do you mean
Rossini's _Moses_?"
_Travelled Man, (quite desperate.)_ "Of course! He's the rival of
OFFENBACH, you know. But come, let's go and take something."
(_They go, the faith of the Admiring Friend in the Travelled Man's
veracity being, however, perceptibly shaken._)
Three more acts follow. ULRIC makes a dozen wishes, all of which are
gratified, and all of which have the inevitable effect of transporting
him into scenes pervaded by the female leg to an extent that easily
reconciles him to the successive loss of five years of his life. He
finally becomes King of Egypt, and, after having fought against the
Crusaders in defence of those well-known Mohammedan gods, ISIS and
OSIRIS, is carried down a trap by exulting demons. An Intolerable Comic
Man opens up hitherto unknown wastes of dreariness, and sings a comic
song that is positively more tedious than an article from the _Nation_.
The Demoniac Servant is continually shot up through spring traps, in
order to remark, "Ha! ha!" and to immediately disappear again. The Aged
Mother travels from Flanders to Egypt without changing her dress or
combing her back hair, for the vain purpose of begging "ULLERIC" to
repent. Consumptive Knights fight terrific broad-sword duels with a
thirst for combat that beer alone is subsequently able to allay. The
Virtuous HEROINE displays a very neat pair of ankles, but without
winning "ULLERIC" from the devil of his ways. Half a dozen ballets are
successively introduced, in which the skirts of the dancers are seen to
decrease as rapidly and steadily as the stripes on ULRIC'S magic collar.
Finally, a grand Transformation Scene, which has nothing whatever to do
with the play, exhibits the best legs of the company in the most
favorable attitudes, and the green baize curtain falls upon the great
spectacle of the day.
_Virtuous Matron._ "Well, I never! It's positively indecent. I'd like to
take a whip to those shameless hussies."
_Sceptical Husband._ "PAGE offered me a proscenium box the other day.
Suppose we take it to-morrow night?"
_Virtuous Matron._ "I'll go to please you, my dear. And really the
scenery is pretty."
_Wretched Man, who is shameless enough to admit that he likes it._ "I
like it. The ballet's good, the scenery is splendid, and the music might
be worse. Why don't these ladies, who come here and sit it through, have
the honesty to admit that they come because they like it? But no; they
go away, and at the next party, where they wear dresses lower in the
neck than any I've seen on the stage to night, they'll abuse the poor
girls who have danced here for their amusement. Their malignant modesty
does not deserve the respect of an intelligent _figurante_. If they are
sincere, why do they come here?"
Which question still puzzles the perturbed mind of
MATADOR.
* * * * *
Give 'em Rope.
We clip the following from the _Express_:
"There seem to be more legal loopholes for convicted murderers to escape
through than for any other class of criminals."
That is too true, by a great deal. There should be but one "legal
loophole" for a convicted murderer, and the authorities should not let
him escape through the loop of it--they should Knot.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A MOVING INCIDENT.
_Pat, (to Bridget.)_ "TAKE YOUR MASTHER'S TRUNK TO THE RAILROAD, IS IT?
OCH! BOTHER--DON'T YOU SEE I'M MOVIN' A FAMILY?"]
* * * * *
THE "TOBACCO PARLIAMENT" OF OHIO.
For genial law-making in America commend us to the Ohio House of
Representatives. While we haven't learned that the legislation of this
august body has been particularly hazy of late, we think it must have
been wholesome, for we are assured that much of it has been thoroughly
"fumigated" through the exertions of the majority of its members, who
perform their functions with pipes in their mouths, while drawn up in
semi-circle around a couple of fire-places built expressly for their
accommodation--"one on each side of the speaker's desk," Who _wouldn't_
legislate, (and early, too,) if he could do it with his feet on the
fender, his well-flavored Havana or best Virginia leaf in his mouth, and
the privilege of cracking jokes and telling naughty stories _ad
interim?_ Go it, ye Buckeye lawmakers! Shall we hear of any sympathy for
Cuba in that quarter?
* * * * *
A "Woman's Physic."
(MRS. C--N TO MRS. MCF--D.)
"My Darling, I have found a panacea for all woes, In Man:
_When one man will not suit or stay,
Then get another, right away."_
* * * * *
CABLE NEWS.
[EXCLUSIVELY FOR PUNCHINELLO.]
GREAT BRITAIN.
The Great PUNCHINELLO dinner has come off! JENKINS was there, and was to
have telegraphed an account. But he was not so well as usual the next
day, the Thames water having got into his head. JENKINS never _could_
take much water. So your correspondent is obliged to trust to his
memory--unaffected by the water, which he did not take.
Old London Tavern was the scene of this banquet, given by the _literati_
of England in honor of the long-wished-for coming of PUNCHINELLO. The
dining-hall was decorated for the occasion with appropriate portraits.
There were HOGARTH, CERVANTES, ADDISON, MOLIERE, SWIFT, STERNE,
GOLDSMITH, TOM HOOD, IRVING, THACKERAY, DICKENS, and ARTEMUS WARD. A
number of the waiters were costumed in character. From my seat, I
recognized SAM WELLER, (right behind me;) the Fat Boy of _Pickwick;_
SANCHO PANZA, and JEAMES YELLOWPLUSH.
Mr. PUNCH was represented at the head of the table so well that you
could know him at once from his weekly frontispiece. On one side of him
sat CHARLES DICKENS; on the other, your humble ambassador. It would be
rather invidious to name the other hundred guests; not to be there was
to be nowhere in literature. Near me there sat Lord LYTTON, TOM HUGHES,
PREVOST PARADOL, EDMOND ABOUT, CHARLES KINGSLEY, PAUL FEVAL, and the
Rev. JOHN CUMMING.
Asking, in a whisper, of Mr. PUNCH how the latter very staid individual
came to be there, I understood that, of all the absurd men of this
century, he was selected as the most representatively preposterous. The
PRINCE OF WALES was not asked, lest his morals might be hurt by
something that was said. And it is so important, you know, for the
British nation--(for the rest, see the _Saturday Review_.) And then
Madame GEORGE SAND was to be there, who sometimes wears trowsers.
MATTHEW ARNOLD was spoken to about it; but he replied gruffly,
"PUNCHINELLO is Goliath of the Philistines!" and declined.
JOHN STUART MILL was too busy over his next book, which is to be "On the
Subjection of Horses." But every body else was there, so we did not miss
these grave and reverend seigniors.
How the twenty-five courses came on and went off, from the ox-tail soup
and salmon to the dessert, it would need the tongue or pen of SOYER or
PIERRE BLOT to narrate; as it needed the capacity of a FALSTAFF to do
justice to them. And then, when the cover was removed, came the time of
trial to your correspondent. "The Queen" and "the President" were drunk
with all the honors. Then Mr. PUNCH called out, through his magnificent
old nose, so that you might have heard him across the Channel, "Health
and long life to PUNCHINELLO!"
Now, your correspondent had remembered Mr. HAWTHORNE'S experience at a
Lord Mayor's dinner, and had begged Mr. PUNCH by all means to let him
off without a speech. But, more worldly-wise than HAWTHORNE, he didn't
believe that Mr. PUNCH would keep his promise; so he had prepared a
speech, beginning, "Not anticipating any occasion to open my lips in
this illustrious company, you must allow me to speak altogether on the
impulse of the moment." (Hear, hear.) So this had to be delivered; but
for the rest of it, and of the dinner, you must wait for my next
telegram. Mr. PUNCH is going to have the speech published in pamphlet
form, for distribution among his numerous constituents. So, now for the
rest of my _news_.
FRANCE.
The PRINCE OF MONACO has declared war against France. OLLIVIER proposes
to send the PRINCE IMPERIAL to extinguish him with a corps of infantry,
armed with popguns; no one to be admitted to the corps who is more than
four years old. MONACO aspires to be a sort of LOPEZ.
TURKEY.
Sultan ABDUL AZIZ has just had a visit from a friend of JOHN BRIGHT'S.
To the surprise of every body, even his most intimate friends, the
Sultan immediately made up his mind to turn Quaker! He came down stairs,
and went into mosque, the other day, with a broad-brimmed hat, straight
coat, and drab trowsers; and insisted on all the ladies of his _hareem_
putting on plain bonnets, and holding a "silent meeting" in the
Seraglio! How it bothered them to do that last thing you may well
suppose! More anon, from PRIME.
* * * * *
A Bit of Fish.
SECRETARY FISH is said to preserve a decidedly spruce appearance
at the State Dinners. Fish is nothing if not Fin-ical.
* * * * *
FISH SAUCE.
The sight of a thick, four-pound steak, just cut from a halibut that
must have weighed, (the idea of a fish wading!) some two hundred pounds,
reminds us that trout-fishing is just now in full operation. What a
strange, weird mystery there is about mental associations! Long, long
ago, we possessed a favorite trout-rod fitted with a Hollow Butt, and so
it is that whenever we see a Halibut, trouting comes to our mind.
Yesterday, frogs were croaking, and insects all in green livery, with
gilt buttons, contributed to Nature's Great Boston Jubilee of music with
their hum. How ridiculous it seems that insects should have a hum!--and
yet the Bee has its Hum in its hive.
It is at this season that enthusiastic anglers always get water on the
brain. Their dreams are of gurgling brooks. They have visions of
mill-ponds, with beautiful little cascades sluicing into them over dams.
They stand, in imagination, on bridges, in the eddies beneath which they
discern the wagging of silvery tails and rosy fins; and a very common
form of nightmare with them is to fancy that the reel of the fishing-rod
won't work, just as they are going to wind up a four-pound trout.