 | The Drama at Home ; or, An Evening with Puff |  |
The Drama, in a wretched condition, is discovered, gazing on her ruined Temple, and surrounded by her Sons and Daughters..
Air and Chorus—Ophelia—“Over the mountain and over the moor.”
Over the mountain and over the moor,
Hungry and barefoot, we wander forlorn;
Melpomene's dead and Thalia is poor,
We sigh for the days that will never return.
Pity, kind gentlefolks, friends of Theatricals,
Banish'd the Garden, scarce heard in the Lane,
Give us some food for our mother, for charity,
Find a snug home for the Drama again.
(Exeunt separately)
Dra.
Aye, go, my children, do the best ye may!
The Drama, like a dog, has had her day,
And worse than any dog she now is treated—
Turned out of doors, deserted, bullied, cheated;
Her halls in ruins, or possessed by foes,
Or opened one day but the next to close;
Reduced to the last stage, her hopes all fled,
Her hapless offspring now must beg their bread.
Who steals Iago's purse, steals trash, I vow;
Poor Juliet can't afford the smallest bier;
Macbeth has fallen quite into the sere;
The Road to Ruin, Dornton faster goes;
No Way to Keep Him luckless Lovemore knows;
Macheath must boldly take the road again;
Old Justice Greedy licks his chops in vain;
George Barnwell fails to make his uncle bleed;
Othello's occupation's gone indeed!
Oh, Fate! I'll lay me down at once, and die.
A chord—A large posting-bill appears on the wall, upon which is written—“Unparalleled Attraction! ‘The Critic’ Every Evening. Puff by—” the rest is torn off—Music; the wall opens, and
Enter Puff.
Puff.
Die?—nonsense!
Dra.
Who are you, sir?
Puff.
Who am I?
Why, madam, you must know me well enough.
The Drama cannot have forgotten Puff.
Dra.
Ah, Puff! “my grief was blind,” as Richard says;
But even you can't help me now-a-days.
Puff's put his hand to bills for me so oft,
That in the market they are worthless.
Puff.
Soft!
No scandal against Queen Elizabeth, pray;
I've come to shew you there is still a way
To make your fortune—sink the stage!
Dra.
That's done!
Puff.
I've twenty famous schemes on foot, each one
Certain to fill the speculator's purse.
But let me speak in prose, I can't bear verse.
Dra.
E'en as you will, it matters not to me,
So that your language but dramatic be.
Puff.
Dramatic! My dear madam, don't you remember
my tragedy—my celebrated tragedy of the “Spanish
Armada,”—that they rehearsed I can't say how many
dramatic! Genius of Sheridan!
Dra.
I'm glad to hear you invoke his genius, for it was but
the other day I was told he had none.
Puff.
For tragedy?
Dra.
For comedy.
Puff.
And who could venture?
Dra.
Oh, one of my would-be doctors, who are always
prescribing for the Drama, yet can never agree as to the
cause of her decline.
Puff.
Late dinner hours, and bad company.
Dra.
So some tell me—others attribute it to a surfeit
of French dishes: but when I am starving for food I must
take what I can get,—besides, all depends upon the cooking,
And I've been mighty sick upon English fare occasionally.
Puff.
Did you ever try cold water?
Dra.
I've had a great deal thrown on me lately.
Dra.
It did Melo-drama a world of good at Sadler's
Wells some years ago; and permit me—this is one of my
favourite projects.
(producing paper)
I have just written
the prospectus of the New Metropolitan Grand Junction
Hydropathic Society, or Cold Water for the Million Company.
“The projectors of this great national undertaking
having seen an advertisement stating that the Theatre
Royal, Covent Garden, is to be let for any purpose for
which the building is available, beg to inform the public
that they are in treaty for a lease of those extensive premises,
the proprietors of which having been long in hot
water, are desirous of trying cold, and trust shortly to reopen
that once popular establishment under high and
distinguised patronage. The stage being completely useless,
will be converted into a reservoir, and the central chandelier
being removed, a capacious shower bath will be erected,
which, as soon as the pit is completely full, will be emptied
without fail upon the subscribers, who will have the privilege
of sitting in their wet clothes from seven till eleven;
a period, it is imagined, amply sufficient for testing the efficacy
of this admirable system. N.B.—In anticipation of
the nightly overflows, an extra pit door will be opened to
let the water out, after the audience is completely saturated.
admitted.”
Dra.
Ah me! Time was the pit was drowned in tears!
Puff.
“Those times are past, Floranthe!”
Dra.
And how do you propose to benefit me or mine by
this project?
Puff.
You can provide for Ophelia, who has always had
a tendency to cold water: I'll propose her to be resident
directress, with a bed in the grave trap, and the run of the
cistern.
Dra.
“Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia.”—
Is there no other remedy?
Puff.
No other? a hundred!—all equally efficacious.
You remember “Animal Magnetism?”
Dra.
Perfectly; a capital farce
that brought many a
good half price in better days.
Puff.
You'd make ten times the money by the same
farce under its new title of mesmerism, and by the personal
application of it escape a great deal of anxiety.
For instance, once thrown into a state of magnetic slumber,
you become insensible to pain,—I might cut off the whole
free list of a theatre, the public press excepted, and you
wouldn't be in the slightest degree aware of it! All complimentary
admissions might be suspended without interfering
with the healthful action of your own faculties, and
by the communication of the magnetic fluid to the
audience, roars of laughter, or floods of tears could be
produced at the pleasure of the operators.
Dra.
And the audience asleep all the while?
Puff.
As fast as Lady Macbeth, or Juliet, after she has
taken the friar's balsam! I've spoken to both those ladies
on the subject—they are delighted with the notion, and
have offered themselves as subjects for experiment, one attended
by her doctor, and the other by Romeo's
apothecary.
Dra.
Well, there is some appearance of acting in this;
and therefore, I prefer it to the aquatic scheme.
And it can't signify to you whether the audience
are lulled to sleep by the five fingers of a professor of
mesmerism, or the five acts of a dull tragedy.
Dra.
Particularly if they can be made to applaud in the
right places.
Puff.
In the right places!—My dear madam, that's being
a little too particular,—people seldom applaud in the right
places when they're awake—you wouldn't have them more
discriminating in their dreams. If they applaud at all, that's
the great thing; and if Puff has the management of the
business there shall be thunders of approbation, from the
rising of the foot-lights to the covering up of the boxes
after the performances are over. They shall call for the carpenters,
fling bouquets to the box-keepers, and, in the height
of their enthusiasm, offer twice as much to get out of a
theatre as they paid to come into it!
Dra.
I can't believe you.
Puff.
Not believe Puff! “Then is doomsday near.” I'll
give you ocular demonstration, that is, to your mind's eye,
if you have a mind.
(stamps, a chair rises)
Be so good as
to place yourself in that chair—it is the very one Macbeth
thinks he sees Banquo in. Now don't be afraid; I've written
so much on this wonderful science that I may truly say—I
have got it at my fingers' ends.
Air—“Oh slumber, my darling.”
Of hand, shall soon make you believe “black is white.”
The stage, and the scenes, and the actors, you'll see
As perfect as Puff can declare them to be!
Then slumber, my Drama—oh dream while you may;
For if you awake—there's an end of the play.
Now, madam, as you are fast asleep, be kind enough to
inform me where you are, and what you see?
Dra.
Vision of glory!—I'm at Drury Lane
With Shakespeare—“Richard is himself again!”
Puff.
I told you so.
Statue of Shakespeare over the portico
—Awake!
Beware of fibbers!
That Richard's none of mine—'Tis Colley Cibbers!
(portico closes—lights up)
Dra.
Ha!—(starts up)
Puff.
Rot that Shakespeare, he always speaks the truth!
I wonder what the devil they stuck him up there for.
There was a leaden Apollo, with a lyre in his hand, on
the top of the old building—much more appropriate to
the new one—where William Tell draws more than
William Shakespeare. But you see, madam, I did not
deceive you.
Dra.
No, for you did deceive me—'Twas a dream, too
bright to last!
Puff.
What's the odds, so long as you're happy? and in
these times you ought to be happy to find a theatre open at
all, particularly one that has been crowded three nights a
week to hear—“The most eminent singer in Europe.”
Dra.
Oh, Puff! Puff!
Puff.
Upon my honour, and no puff.
Name but Duprez, the public and the press
Will own that he deserved “immense success.”
Music from “William Tell”—The portico opens and discloses a tableau from the opera—Arnold and Matilda—Part of duet sung from Second Act, and portico closes.
Dra.
Well, that is very sweet, I must admit.
Puff.
'Twas sure to tell, as Tell was sure to hit. But
you must allow me to introduce to you another distinguished
foreigner, who kept open house for you before Christmas.
Music—The portico opens and discovers a tableau from the ballet of the “Peri.”
Mercy upon me! Who is this I see?
Puff.
An incarnation of Terpsichore; own sister to Thalia
and Melpomene, by Jupiter—according to Tattersall's edition
of “Lempriere's Classical Dictionary.” In plain English,
the “Pet of the Ballet.” That, madam, is the bewitching
Peri who turned the benches of Drury Lane into so many
Paradise Rows, and the most sceptical critics into true believers.
Would you be so obliging, most beautiful Pagan, as
to favour us with that lover's leap which has made Sappho's
contemptible?
Brava! Bravissima! Dancing has charms to soothe the
savage breast!
Dra.
“Music” is the original text.
Puff.
Congreve's—but he knew nothing of dancing. Had
he lived in these days he would have changed his tune, or
written, “Ballet-music hath charms.” Music is making great
strides, I allow, but dancing jumps over everything—clears a
fortune at a bound—exempli gratia; and should be painted
like a new Colossus, bestriding the world, with one fantastic
toe in St. Petersburgh and the other in Philadelphia. Was
there ever anything in mere music to equal the tour-de-force
you have just witnessed?
Dra.
It was more like a catch than anything else.
Puff.
It was a great catch for the manager, I can tell you.
Dra.
And Covent Garden, though it used me ill,
With all its faults, alas! I love it still.
Once more let me behold that noble fane.
Puff.
Unmesmerised, I fear 'twill give you pain.
Dra.
No matter.
Puff.
Well, then, to oblige you, there!
Music—Clouds descend quickly before Drury Lane, rise immediately, and discover Covent Garden; the building
Dra.
Why, where's the theatre?
Puff.
Before you.
Dra.
Where?
Puff.
My dear madam, did you ever see the moon behind
a cloud?
Dra.
Never.
Puff.
Of course not, because it is behind a cloud, and
for a similar reason you can't see the theatre, because it is
behind the poster. The great thing now, madam, is your
poster, it can't be too large; the notion's a capital one, for
lookye, madam, the public may not come to see the entertainment,
but by Jove they can't help seeing the bill.
Dra.
Then they do play something here still, according
to that announcement?
Puff.
Play something!—to be sure they do.
Dra.
What?
Puff.
The fiddle in general, and the cornet-à-piston in
particular.
Dra.
But what has the fiddle to do with the destruction
of Pompeii?
Puff.
A great deal, ma'am. Nero fiddled when Rome
was burning; why shouldn't Jullien fiddle when Pompeii is
destroyed? But the great feature is the eruption of Mount
Vesuvius.
Dra.
On the stage?
Puff.
No, that's been done a hundred times; this is a
perfectly novel idea—you'd never guess. What do you
think of an eruption of Mount Vesuvius in the one-shilling
gallery?
Dra.
You're joking!
Puff.
Am I?
Dra.
Mercy upon me! what's that?
Puff.
That? That's it!
Dra.
The eruption?
Puff.
Yes, the destruction of Pompeii. “Guns,
trumpets, blunderbusses, drums, and thunder.” The music
and red fire of a melo-drama without the dialogue—a great
improvement—
Dra.
Or the acting.
Puff.
Certainly; who cares for acting now-a-days! the
public want startling effects, madam, not fine language or
natural acting; “good worts, good cabbage,” as Falstaff
says. Get your effects, madam, no matter how, but get
them, and the faster the better. Bless your soul, I've learned
a great deal since I wrote the “Spanish Armada.” I've a
tragedy in hand now, the five acts of which contain only
one detonating ball in each, and will go off as fast as the
principal actors can stamp upon them. If that hangs fire,
the devil's in it!
Dra.
But still my Theatres Royal—
Puff.
Were not licensed pursuant to the 25th of George
the Second, for music and dancing only; certainly not; but
so it is—'tis true, 'tis pity, pity 'tis 'tis true! And, therefore,
I return to my project of the Metropolitan Grand
Junction Hydropathic—but stay—a thought—as you seem
quite abroad already, what do you say to emigration—one
of my favourite remedies?
Dra.
Emigration whither?
Puff.
“Wherever you please, my pretty little dear!”—
Sydney, New Zealand, Hong Kong; you've only to choose,
they're all at a convenient distance. In these wonderful
days we can put a girdle round about the earth in forty
minutes.
Annihilate both time and space, and make two lovers blest!”
One might suppose the gods had kindly granted his request.
And soon a flying omnibus our wildest hopes will crown.
Every twenty minutes from the Bank you'll see it starting,
For Greenwich or for Greenland, Hampstead Heath or Hobart Town.
Drive along the Milky Way instead of Rotten Row;
Or if to drink the best Bohea in China you've an inkling,
An early train will set you down to breakfast in Ningpo.
“Over sky to Botany Bay” will sound as common soon.
Glorious news, Old England, for your surplus population!
Companies are forming fast to colonise the moon.
Hasten, happy lunatics, in air to take your swing;
Man's ambition now is but to travel as the crow flies;
The time is come, indeed, to say that time is on the wing.
For Charles's Wain, the Pleiades, the Great or Little Bear?
The Cloud Conveyance Company will run you from the City,
In Coaches to the Elephant and Castle—in the air.
Music—Ariel appears in a flying carriage.
Dra.
Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!
Puff.
The coach is ready; whither shall we wend us?
Dra.
But who's the coachman?
Ariel.
Mistress, don't you know?
I was the servant of old Prospero,
And told his Ariel the twig to hop.
Dra.
What, Ariel! My brave spirit, is it thou?
I fear you don't “so merrily live now.”
Ariel.
Your pardon, madam, thanks to Mr. Puff,
I get my living merrily enough;
I am engaged, ma'am, at a handsome salary
By the directors of the Adelaide Gallery,
To lecture upon Ariel Navigation;
The hobby of the Greens of every nation,
And at the Polytechnic Institution,
To put all sorts of pranks in execution.
In my old line, “to swim, to drive, to ride,
On the curled clouds,” and heaven knows what beside;
So 'twixt the twain, I have enough to do.
Dra.
What are these places like?—to me they're new.
Ariel.
“Full of strange noises”—sights to make you smile,
And wonder—till bewitched you almost feel,
Though nothing shocks you but the Electric Eel.
In the diving-bell I lie,
Tho' the public “humbug” cry,
In the aëriel ship I fly.
At the Adelaide Gallery,
Merrily, merrily do I live now,
Under the favour of Puff, I allow.
Merrily, merrily, &c., &c.
Dra.
Would all my children as well off I knew.
Puff.
I have employment found for one or two.
Dra.
Where's poor Othello?
Boardman to Warren, No. 30, Strand.
Air—Puff—“The Coal Black Rose.”
Driven off the boards by Fortune's frown,
Between a pair is glad to get
And prove he's not as black as “Warren's brilliant jet.”
Jim Crows and fiddlers' bows
Have quite put out of joint his poor black nose.
Ariel.
Ah, there, no doubt, you'd influence enough;
The blacking trade owes much, indeed, to Puff.
Dra.
And Macbeth?
Puff.
Set up a cigar divan,
And stands at his own door as a Highlandman.
(music—Wing changes to cigar divan shop, with Macbeth at door)
Song—Ariel—“A Highland lad my love was born.”
The London stage he has left in scorn,
And he's opened a cigar divan,
Where he stands at his door as a Highlandman.
Sing hey! my braw John Highlandman—
If you wish to smoke a real Havan—
You should deal with my John Highlandman!
Ariel touches Macbeth with her wand; he leaves his door, advances to Othello, who goes to meet him—Macbeth offers him his mull—They take snuff, shake hands, and exeunt.
Dra.
And Shylock?
Hush! he's kicked up such a breeze;
Opened a slop shop in the Minories,
And picked up money just as if 'twere dirt;
But you have heard Tom Hood's “Song of the Shirt.”
Dra.
No.
Ariel.
'Twas in Punch.
Dra.
Still ignorance I own.
Ariel.
Not to know Punch, argues yourself unknown!
Dra.
I do remember, a long time ago,
There was a fellow kept a puppet show
So called, whose wooden actors played some tricks
That made folks laugh—I thought 'em precious sticks.
Puff.
Not half such sticks as some of yours I've seen.
Dra.
That's not like Puff.
Puff.
Oh, that's ourselves between;
Not that I'm fond of Signor Punchinello;
He writes himself. No friend of mine. The fellow
Blows his own trumpet,—don't employ me,
And out-puffs every puff that he can see.
Music—Punch squeaks without, and a wing changes to the window of the “Punch” Office, at which Punch appears.
Punch.
Roo, too, too, too!
(hits Puff a rap with his bâton)
Puff.
You'll be the death of me! be quiet do!
Air—Punch—“Punch cures the gout.”
Punch is just out,
Come buy my laugh provokers,
For I'm own'd by every man
To be the best of jokers!
Buy Punch's almanack,
Laugh till your sides you crack,
Mine is the real Rack,—
Punch of a pun, sir;
Ne'er in another look;
Every line bears a hook
Baited with fun, sir!
Here's Punch's Christmas piece,
All other swans are geese,
Who can your mirth increase,
Like Punchinello?
Root, too, too, too, too!
Down with the devils blue!
Laugh as you ought to do,
Or you're a stupid fellow!
(pokes Puff)
Puff.
Let me alone! to Drama
Madam, are you inclined
To go to China?
Dra.
I have half a mind,
If you will puff me off.
Puff.
Of course.
Dra.
How long
D'ye think 'twill take to waft me to Hong Kong?
Puff.
Five hours and twenty minutes, to a second,
The time has been most accurately reckoned.
You start at ten from the Chinese Collection
At Knightsbridge. By the way, upon reflection,
If only to see China is your care,
You needn't stir a step—you have it there.
Punch.
Ah, Puff again!
(pokes him)
Puff.
If that's a puff, sir, choke me.
Zounds and the devil, Punch, you quite provoke me!
Punch.
Why, you've cried “Wolf!” till, like the shepherd youth,
You're not believed when you do speak the truth.
Ariel.
Now Blackwall, Egypt, China, Newfoundland!
Puff.
Madam, will you allow me in to hand—
Por.
Tarry a little!
All.
Portia!
Por.
Even so.
Dra.
Come you from Padua, from Bellario?
Por.
No, ma'am, from Westminster; why would you roam?
Dra.
Because they've ceased to care for me at home.
Por.
Then you've not heard the news—the Drama's free!
All.
Free!
Por.
To go where she will.
Dra.
It cannot be!
Except to exile, therefore, in despair,
“To foreign climates my old trunk I bear.”
Por.
I say you're free to act where'er you please.
No longer pinioned by the Patentees,
Need our immortal Shakespeare mute remain,
Fixed on the portico of Drury Lane;
Or the nine Muses mourn the Drama's fall,
Without relief, on Covent Garden's wall.
Sheridan now at Islington may shine;
Marylebone echo “Marlow's mighty line;”
Otway may raise the waters Lambeth yields,
And Farquhar sparkle in St. George's Fields;
Wycherley fluster a Whitechapel pit,
And Congreve wake all “Middlesex to Wit.”
Ariel.
Here's news indeed!
Puff.
Important, if a fact.
Dra.
Is that the law?
Por.
“Thyself shall see the act.”
Dra.
O joyful day! then I may flourish still!
Punch.
May! Well, that's something; let us hope you will.
A stage may rise for you, now law will let it,
And Punch sincerely “wishes you may get it!”
Puff.
A stage may rise!—There always was a stage
In London, for the Drama's heritage.
Dra.
Where?
Puff.
In the Haymarket. Behold it!
(music—the Haymarket Theatre rises)
Ariel.
That!
Why, there's not room in it to swing a cat.
A storm in a puddle!” 'Twouldn't draw at all.
A theatre! A band-box, a child's toy!
Dra.
Quite large enough good acting to enjoy.
But ah! 'tis open scarcely half the year,
When town is out of town.
Por.
You've then to hear
More news, for all the year round now you may,
If Fortune grant you sunshine, make your hay.
Puff.
God save the Queen!
Punch.
And hang the crier!
Puff.
Hang Puff!
Punch.
He'll hang himself, give him but rope enough.
Dra.
Transporting tidings! What, the whole year round?
The Drama has, indeed, a home then found!
From which she ne'er will move. Open the gate
That she may enter it, and take her state.
Music—Theatre opens—Tableau—Sir John Falstaff between Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Page, and on the right, Katherine and Petruchio.
Puff.
See Windsor's Merry Wives are there to greet you,
And Katherine and Petruchio haste to meet you.
Dra.
My dear Sir John!—friends all!
Puff.
“O sweet Anne Page!”
For thirty nights that play was all the rage.
Punch.
Puff!
(pokes him)
Puff.
Zounds! be quiet,—the town knows that's true.
Punch.
Then there's less reason for a word from you.
Puff.
Mustn't I speak at all?
Punch.
You talk such stuff!
Puff.
Stuff in your teeth! No “Critic” without Puff!
I won't be put down in this bullying way.
Madam (to Drama)
, since you're at home, permit me, pray,
To introduce some friends I'd fain invite
To celebrate your glad return to-night.
Well, shew 'em up—to make a merry end on't.
Punch.
Leave that to Punch, he'll shew 'em up, depend on't.
Ariel.
Nay, I'll be usher, since a wand I bear.
(Puff gives her paper)
Punch.
I bear a bâton—bill-stickers beware!
Ariel.
(announcing)
The minor theatres for presentation,
By Mr. Puff, on their emancipation.
(presents roll of paper to Drama)
A Christmas carol from the Adelphi!
Enter the three Spirits, followed by Scrooge.
Punch.
Thieves!
Puff.
They've got the author's leave.
Punch.
You mean his leaves,
And copied them, I've no doubt, to the letter.
Dra.
Well, if they're Dickens's, I can't have better.
Song—Ariel.
Heav'n bless the merry gentleman,
I'm sure the poor may say,
And may he write as good a book
For every Christmas Day;
And if, to help the drama's cause, he'd write as good a play,
'Twould be tidings of comfort and joy.
Music—Enter Olympic Banner bearer, followed by Tim Turnstile, from “The Road of Life, or the Cabman's Career.”
Ariel.
A cabman from the Olympic!
Take his number!
I'll pull him up for driving his live lumber
Across the stage; these boards he sure might spare,
Now there's a wooden pavement everywhere.
Music—Enter Victoria Banner-bearer, followed by Susan Hopley.
Ariel.
Susan, from the Victoria.
Punch.
Black-eyed Sue?
Puff.
No, Susan Hopley, a great hit!
Punch.
Roo too!
(hits Puff)
Dra.
But have they brought out nothing at the Surrey?
Puff.
Yes, but it's what no manager will hurry,
At any time, to bring out—“The Last Shilling.”
Punch.
He's pretty sure to do 't, howe'er unwilling.
Music—“The Last Shilling”—Enter Surrey Banner-bearer followed by Farmer, Daughter, and Sailor.
Dra.
But hold! you talk'd of Shakespeare, Congreve; where
Am I the better for this promise fair?
I see no rising drama worth the name,
And now the law is surely not to blame.
Punch.
It's true you don't, but still I wish you may.
Por.
Have patience. Rome was not built in a day.
Dra.
But read this list of titles—Gods! I'm undone!
“Jack Sheppard,” “Rogues of Paris,” “Scamps of London,”
“The Profligate,” “The Young Scamp”—Oh, my tears!
I'll see no more—and yet a fifth appears!
Music—Enter Banner-bearer of the Princess's Theatre, followed by Poo-Poo, from the “Magic Mirror,” holding a mirror.
Who bears a glass, which shews me foreign dresses.
A Magic Mirror, ma'am, from the Princess's.
Dra.
In it I see Italianised Othellos
And English Don Pasquales—hang the fellows!
They've done me harm enough on their own stage;
What right have they to be on mine the rage?
Hence! I'll acknowledge them on no conditions.
Puff.
Will you receive the London Exhibitions?
Dra.
Yes, for I'm told there are such sights to see
The town has scarcely time to think of me.
March—Enter in procession, and preceded by Banner-bearers and Boardmen, the Ojibbeway Indians, General Tom Thumb, the Centrifugal Railway, Madame Tussaud, with Commissioner Lin and his favourite Consort, the Industrious Fleas, Diver and Diving Bell, and the Chinese Collection.
Finale—Puff—“Jim along Josey.”
The names of two great warriors whom you here may see,
Are Pat-au-ah-quot-ah-we-be and Gish-e-gosh-e-ghe.
And after such a specimen of Ojibbeway,
I presume you'll excuse me at once if I say—
Ojibbeway—jibbeway Indians!
Ojibbeway—jibbeway O!
Ariel
—(advancing with Gen. Tom Thumb)—“Yankee Doodle.”
Yankee Doodle sent to town,
On a little pony,
This little man of great renown,
Who struts like little Boney.
Every wonder here to send,
Jonathan's a mania.
Punch.
I wish he'd send the dividend
Due from Pennsylvania!
—“A frog he would a wooing go.”
If a somerset neatly you wish to throw,
Heigho! says Rowley,
I'd really advise you at once to go—
(Though what you'd get by it hang me if I know)
To the Rowley-poley gammon and spin-again
Centrifugal Railway.
Ariel
—“Sweet Kitty Clover.”
To see you in clover, comes Madame Tussaud,
O, o, o, o, O, o, o, o!
Your model in wax-work she wishes to shew,
O, o, o, o, O, o o, o!
The King of the French and Fieschi the traitor,
Commissioner Lin and the Great Agitator,
Kings, Princes, and Ministers all of them go,
O, o, o, o, O, o, o, o!
To sit for their portraits to Madame Tussaud,
O, o, o, o, O, o, o, o.
Punch
—“Gee up Dobbin.”
You talk about wonders! just look upon these;
You'd think them two little industrious fleas;
But just through a microscope peep at their mugs,
And these two little fleas become horrid humbugs!
Gee up Dobbin, Gee up Dobbin,
Gee up Dobbin, Gee up and gee-whoa!
Oh don't he look a love,
(pointing to Diver)
In his helmet and coatee,
Rendered waterproof to rove
In the deep deep sea!
Than the wave he dives below,
He can cut a greater swell,
And to match this diving Beau,
Here behold a diving Bell!
You inside may take a seat,
And an ocean sound at ease
In the midst of Regent Street.
—“Chinese Dance.”
Ching-a-ring-a-ring-ching! Feast of Lanterns!
What a crop of chop-sticks, hongs and gongs!
Hundred thousand Chinese crinkum-crankums,
Hung among the bells and ding-dongs!
What a lot of Pekin pots and pipkins,
Mandarins with pig-tails, rings and strings,
Funny little slop-shops, cases, places
Stuck about with cups and tea things!
Women with their ten toes tight tucked into
Tiddle-toddle shoes one scarcely sees;
How they all got here is quite a wonder!
China must be broken to pieces!
Ariel
—“There was a little man.”
And now good people all,
Ere the curtain 'twixt us fall,
I hope you won't dismiss us in a huff, huff, huff!
The Drama feels at home
'Neath this cosy little dome,
So pardon for her sake a harmless Puff, Puff, Puff!
Punch.
Of course you'd but despise
Folks who vain would ope your eyes,
And persuade you half you hear and see is stuff, stuff, stuff!
“If ignorance is bliss,” you know, “'tis folly to be wise,”
So be led as you have always been by Puff, Puff, Puff.
Puff.
Then shall “Immense Success,”
Be the chorus of the Press,
And garlands and bouquets
As the rule is now-a-days,
Fall in showers on your humble servant Puff, Puff, Puff.
During the last two lines Puff takes a bouquet out of his hat and gives it to the Leader of the Band, who, at the end of the verse, flings it back to him—Puff, pretending to imagine it comes from one of the Audience, takes it up hastily and presses it to his bosom—then producing a wreath of roses also from his hat, he first offers it to Punch, who refuses it, and then to Ariel, who crowns Puff as
The Curtain Falls.
A celebrated tenor at this time, whose performance of Guillaume Tell in the opera of that name was specially distinguished by his ut de poitrine.
A fantastic composition which Jullien introduced into his Promenade Concerts. It was styled in the bills a grand descriptive fantasia from Roch Albert's opera, the principal features of which were stated to be “Explosion of the Crater, falling of the Temples and total destruction of the city.” These effects considerably startled the audience.
The Adelaide Gallery, adjoining Lowther Arcade, was originally devoted to science. It was subsequently converted into a casino, was altered to the Marionette Theatre in 1852, and is now one of the refreshment rooms of Messrs. Gatti.
The Exhibition here alluded to was one of the principal sights of London at this time, and created considerable attention. It was situated immediately west of the Alexandra Hotel.
Strickland, Madame Vestris, and Mrs. Nisbett were Falstaff, Mrs. Page, and Mrs. Ford. It was succeeded by “The Taming of the Shrew,” with Mrs. Nisbett and Webster as Katherine and Petruchio.
A highly-successful drama by Mr. E. L. Blanchard, in which George Wild played Tim Turnstile. This was the first instance of a real cab and cab horse appearing on the stage.
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