Why is it impossible for a watch that indicates the smaller divisions of
time ever to be new?--Because it must always be a second-hand one.
* * * * *
PUNCH'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE.--No. V.
NATURAL HISTORY (_Continued_).
THE OPERA-DANCER (_H. capernicus_--CERITOE).
So decidedly does this animal belong to the Bimana order of beings, that
to his two legs he is indebted for existence. Most of his fellow bipeds
live by the work of their hands, except indeed the feathered and tailor
tribes, who live by their bills; but from his thighs, calves, ancles, and
toes, does the opera-dancer derive subsistence for the less important
portions of his anatomy.
_Physiology._--The body, face, and arms of the opera-dancer present no
peculiarities above the rest of his species; and it is to his lower
extremities alone that we must look for distinguishing features. As our
researches extend downwards from head to foot, the first thing that
strikes us is a protuberance of the ante-occipital membranes, so great as
to present a back view that describes two sides of a scalene triangle, the
apex of which projects posteriorly nearly half way down the figure. That a
due equilibrium may be preserved in this difficult position (technically
called "the first"), the toes are turned out so as to form a right angle
with the lower leg. Thus, in walking, this curious being presents a mass
of animated straight lines that have an equal variety of inclination to a
bundle of rods carelessly tied up, or to Signor Paganini when afflicted
with the lumbago.
_Habits._--The habits of the opera-dancer vary according as we see him in
public or in private life. On the stage he is all spangles and activity;
off the stage, seediness and decrepitude are his chief characteristics. It
is usual for him to enter upon his public career with a tremendous bound
and a hat and feathers. After standing upon one toe, he raises its fellow
up to a line with his nose, and turns round until the applause comes, even
if that be delayed for several minutes. He then cuts six, and shuffles up
to a female of his species, who being his sweetheart (in the ballet), has
been looking savage envy at him and spiteful indignation at the audience
on account of the applause, which ought to have been reserved for her own
capering--to come. When it does, she throws up her arms and steps upon
tiptoe about three paces, looking exactly like a crane with a sore heel.
Making her legs into a pair of compasses, she describes a circle in the
air with one great toe upon a pivot formed with the other; then bending
down so that her very short petticoat makes a "cheese" upon the ground,
spreads out both arms to the _roués_ in the stalls, who understand the
signal, and cry "_Brava! brava!!_" Rising, she turns her back to display
her gauze _jupe élastique_, which is always exceedingly _bouffante_:
expectorating upon the stage as she retires. She thus makes way for her
lover, who, being her professional rival, she invariably detests.
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
soufflées_--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.
* * * * *