colors by the best artists, promised to be almost as good a burlesque as
the bearded Indian exhibition made by the great American Tragedian at
the Broadway; and so with a varied assortment of friends I started to
witness the unusual spectacle of a Bowery darkey representing a Scotch
king.
Paid the entrance fee all in dimes, as the door-keeper couldn't read the
Counterfeit Detector, and wouldn't take bills for fear he would get
stuck with bad money.
Orchestra consisted of a bass-drum, one violin, and a cornet-a-piston.
Seats, new benches with coffee-sacks spread over those constituting the
Dress Circle.
Orchestra essayed the Prima Donna Waltz, which gradually degenerated
into "Wait for the Wagon," and concluded in "Few Days."
Great deal of whispering and shuffling about behind the scenes, a great
deal of emphatic ordering about from the unseen prompter, who was
trying, as nearly as I could judge, to have Macduff take his chew of
tobacco out of his mouth, and at last the curtain rolled up.
Macbeth was a fat gentleman of jetty hue who might have been head-cook
at Delmonico's for twenty years, and who would, had he been subjected to
a melting process, have furnished soap and candles enough for a small
chandlery business.
Whether he _intended_ to give the tragedy a gastronomical interpretation
or not is uncertain, but it is a veritable fact that he dressed the
character in a cook's apron, had a paper cap with a long turkey feather
in it on his head, his steel by his side, a butcher-knife in his hand,
and the cover of the soup-pot for a shield.
Macduff was attired more like a Lake Superior Indian than anything else,
with a superfluity of red flannel fringe, and silver rings in his ears
and nose.
Lady Macbeth rejoiced in a tin crown with seven points, each one with a
crescent on top, brass-heeled gaiters, a dress with a purple waist, and
a green baize train, two cameo bracelets, and lemon-colored kid gloves.
Old King Duncan was a young man who seemed to labor under the impression
that to support his royal dignity it was only necessary to grin
incessantly, and turn his toes in when he walked; his royal highness had
on a high hat with a red feather, plaid pantaloons (being the only
symptom of Scotch costume visible during the evening), and an
embroidered vest, through which, as he wore no coat, the sleeves of his
blue shirt appeared in agreeable contrast; he sported a silver watch,
four seal rings, an opera glass, and a gold-headed cane.
All the other characters were dressed with equal regard to propriety and
elegance of costume, and with equal _dis_regard to expense.
The warlike paraphernalia were on the same appropriate scale; instead of
Scottish claymores and basket-hilted swords, muskets were introduced
which had probably seen service in some target company, until too
battered and damaged for further use; shields were dispensed with except
in the single case of Macduff,--instead of daggers, many were provided
with horse-pistols, and one aspiring individual had a sword-cane and a
slung-shot.
Several of the "supes" were painted like Indians, and carried banners
made of horse-blankets, nailed to barrel staves--the three witches had
each a hoe and a stable-fork, and Hecate was equipped with a straw-hat
and a pair of linen drawers put on hindside foremost.
The play commenced, and every thing proceeded in the greatest harmony
until the caldron scene, when the apparitions, instead of rising through
the trap into the caldron, deliberately crawled from the ring on their
hands and knees, and stuck their heads through a hole in a board which
was painted in admirable imitation of a dinnerpot, and delivered their
prophetic speeches in a huge whisper to the anxious Thane.
The apparition of a "child's head crowned," as the stage direction
reads, was done by a fat piccaninny, who was drawn on screaming and
kicking in a willow basket by a hidden rope, and the speech was read by
the prompter, who squatted down behind the basket, and held his hand
over the baby's mouth in a vain effort to stop his noise.
During this scene Macbeth, who was too obese to stand for so long a time
comfortably, seated himself composedly on a three-legged stool which did
duty afterwards as a throne,--and in fact, whenever during the
performance he found himself incommoded by the warmth, he would sit
flat down on the most convenient resting-place.
His rendering of the dagger scene was peculiarly original--he took his
butcher-knife, tied it by a tow string to a pitch-fork which he stuck in
the middle of the stage, sat flat down on the floor before it, and
proceeded to deliver the speech with great force and emotion; pausing
occasionally to mop his forehead with a yellow bandana handkerchief, and
refresh himself by long sips from a pewter mug of beer which he had
bestowed in his original shield.
The rest of the company got along very well, managing the removal of
Birnam wood in rather a unique manner--when the soldier spoke of a
"moving wood" a back scene opened and discovered four darkies carrying
pine kindling wood from a wagon with a jackass team, down cellar into a
coal-hole.
Whenever an actor forgot his part the prompter would rush out from his
hiding place, put the offending artist in the proper position, read his
lines for him, and suddenly disappear, until some fresh delinquency
called for another shirt-sleeve advent.
Matters progressed towards the close of the piece--Lady Macbeth had
played the lighted candle scene (using a bed-lamp, a candle not being
forthcoming)--had made her last exit, leaving the green baize train,
which had come untied, in the middle of the stage, a sad memorial of her
fate--the soldiers had met in a pitched battle (every "Supe" had
insisted on dying a death of his own, in order to display his tragic
genius), and had expired in various uncomfortable positions; one sitting
up against the flat, with his leg through a trap-door, and his mouth
open, and another with his head through a bushel basket which he had
brought on to use as a shield--all the minor business of the piece was
got along with, and it only remained for Macduff and the rotund Macbeth
to have their fight, say their say, die their die, and finish the play.
They entered arm in arm, being evidently determined, like
prize-fighters, to do their "bloody business" amicably, and as old
friends ought.
Macduff remarked to the audience that they were going to "settle that
little quarrel"--they then proceeded to strip for the contest.
Macduff retired to one corner and pulled off his boots and spectacles,
Macbeth went to another and laid down his jacket and shield--then they
met in the middle, shook hands--one flourished a long toasting-fork
--the other wielded a rolling-pin--Macbeth made the last speech as
follows--
"Come on!!! Macduff be damned!!!" both pitched in--first round,
toasting-fork ahead, rolling-pin in the corner with his nose
bloody--second round, toasting-fork knocks rolling-pin through a parlor
scene and falls back exhausted--third round, both come to time with
difficulty, toaster hits roller in the stomach, roller shies his weapon
at toaster's head, toaster spears at roller's toes, and breaks his fork.
All their munitions of war being exhausted, they close in an expiring
wrestle, and Macbeth eventually dies, having first in the terrific
struggle suffered amputation of the pantaloons immediately above both
knees.
Macduff recovers his rolling-pin, and stands over the conquered Macbeth
in a grand saw-buck attitude of victory and triumph.
XXXVI.
Young America in Long Dresses--Great Excitement in Babydom.
The late grand convention of precocious and pinguid children, created
such a stir throughout the country, that the news, by some unknown
conveyance, penetrated even to the obscure Wolverine hamlet wherein
Damphool had for four months been content to vegetate. The infantile
humbug promised something new in the way of sight-seeing, and as he
desired to meet all his relatives and namesakes who would be certain to
be present on that eventful occasion, and wished to improve this noble
opportunity of contemplating the infant Damphools of the country, who
were to be there exhibited by their stultified progenitors, he took the
next train of cars and started for Gotham, to view this first congress
of rudimentary "humans."
His immediate care, on reaching the city, was to repair to the
establishment where I, his former friend, am generally to be
found,--having discovered the object of his search, he had some
considerable difficulty in convincing me of the utility of such a show,
or the absolute necessity that existed of visiting such a promiscuous
assemblage of everybody's brats; and paying twenty-five cents to hear a
squalling chorus by the unregulated voices of the young ones, and to
view the prolific women who had so increased the population of the
country, in some cases by as many as four at a single litter.
I had some old fashioned notions that babies should be kept at home, and
allowed to take their necessary allowance of nutriment, and soil their
_un_-necessary allowance of linen (a baby is always wrapped up in cloth
enough to full-rig a topsail schooner, from the middle of which its
insignificant head sticks out, like a lap-dog which has been rolled up
by mistake in the parlor carpet), within the limits of the domestic
circle; and not paraded before the public to perform these pleasing
functions in the presence of an assemblage, composed in great part, of
modest young men and bashful maidens, uninitiated as yet, in the
mysteries of baby life.
After laboring for some time to convince me that adolescent and embryo
human stock is as legitimate a subject of exhibition as any other
animals, and that fecund mothers and high-blooded fathers should be as
much brought into public notice as brood mares, or imported Durham
cattle; and that public displays of fine children, and a discussion of
the mode of rearing and training them, and an interchange of sentiments
on these important points between those of most experience in the
matter, would tend to the great physical improvement of the human race,
I was so far satisfied that I agreed to go and witness the latest effort
of the "Great American Showman" to get up a sensation.
Went to the entrance of the place of exhibition, took a look at the
show-bills below, and the huge painting above, which represented in the
most prominent rainbow hues the supposed appearance of the infant
wonders--at the waxen boy in a scratch wig and full suit of Young
America clothes, and the impossible girl of like material, whose Cereous
head was covered with such a crop of hempen curls that if woven into a
rope it would have been long enough to hang half the rogues in the city;
which two infant prodigies were the contribution of some enterprising
hair-dresser and wig-maker, and were most industriously revolving
beneath two glass cases in the hall in front of the paying place, and
whose striking beauty was presumed to be all-powerful to arrest the
attention of the hurrying multitude and make them lay down their
quarters and take a peep at the exhibition whether they would or no;
having, I say, taken a bird's eye glance at all these, we laid down our
money (Damphool paid for both) and entered.
Tremendous crowd--hurried in--got my toes annihilated, my hat smashed
in, and my shirt collar reduced to the dimensions and appearance of a
slimy dishcloth, in less than a minute.
Forced our way up to the platform. Saw a number of complacent mothers
with movable fronts to their dresses, sitting side by side on an
elevated plank, holding their babies in their laps (each one having a
stock of baby linen handy, and a huge bucket of some liquid to me
unknown, but which looked like starch, within reach, and which every now
and then they poured into the faces of the specimen babies who lay with
their wide mouths open like so many young robins) casting jealous
glances at each other, tender glances on their young charges, and
appealing glances at the crowd before them.
The youngest babies were dressed in unaccustomed clean clothes, in
which, as they were unused to such style of garments, they looked ten
times dirtier than ever--they had a profusion of green and blue ribbons
on their frocks, which they kept in their mouths all the time--their
faces were full of wrinkles, their eyes were watery and weak, and their
pug-noses seemed to be living fountains.
Other babies under the required age (4 years), decked out in all sorts
of colors, and with dresses made universally in most execrably bad
taste, were standing on some of the other platforms, or running about
amongst the crowd, daubing themselves and those indiscreet and
enthusiastic persons who attempted to handle them, with half-dissolved
candy, and sticky gingerbread. And occasionally getting up a fight among
themselves--where little fists would unceremoniously visit little eyes,
and little feet would indulge in a series of energetic little kicks, and
little fingers would pull out little bunches of little curls, and little
voices would give a course of most discordant screams (which were
_little_, but----), and so the little Tom Hyers would amuse themselves
until separated by some courageous individual who dared to touch the
little monsters.
I stepped up to a lady to ask the age of a baby which she had in her
maternal arms, when I found myself instantly a centre of baby
attraction--babies seemed to pitch into me from all directions--a baby
poked its fingers into my eye, a baby put sugar on my ruffled shirt, a
baby daubed gruel on my white vest, a baby filled my kid glove with
milk, a baby dropped something done up in a rag down my neck, and a baby
of huge dimensions and unredeemed ugliness amused itself by filling my
hat full of playthings which it appropriated from the weaker babies on
either side. So that I found in that article of apparel a tin whistle,
three dolls, a sugar house, a miniature Noah's Ark with all the animals,
a rattle-box, a hair-brush, and two india-rubber balls.
Tried to get out of the muss, but a baby was pulling my coat-tails, and
a four-year old baby stood upon each foot improving the pattern of my
white pants by wiping their dirty hands thereon. I stepped back and
knocked over a baby, I rushed forward and stepped on a baby, I leaped to
one side and crushed a small baby in a pink dress, I sprung to the other
and crushed a fat baby and its nurse against the wall. I tried to escape
from the room but tumbled over a baby,--recovered my feet and started
again, but babies got between my legs and tripped me down-stairs, where
I landed in an exhausted condition, which was by no means improved by a
careless woman dropping her baby directly on my head from the
fourth-story.
Saw the distribution of prizes,--first prize given to an Irish baby with
a stub nose; second, to a Dutch ditto, with eyes of different colors;
and all the rest to the very babies who ought not to have had any, but
deserved to be spanked and sent to bed until they should grow decent
looking.
Not a good-looking baby got a prize, and the very ones who should have
taken the premiums were sent home without having their expenses paid.
The $100 prize baby did not amount to much after all. Not a young couple
who saw it but thought they could do better in less than a year; and the
mothers of those babies who didn't get anything thought they could beat
it on six months' notice.
Those industrious ladies who desired to rear a large family in the
shortest time possible, and so had produced three or four children at a
birth, were all rewarded by the Great Showman for their extra pains and
labors, and all went home triumphant with a premium for fecundity, and
money enough to buy flannel for all the brood.
Everybody said the baby show was a humbug--but everybody went to see it.
Everybody said it was disgusting, but everybody paid his twenty-five
cents to be disgusted, and everybody _was_ disgusted to his heart's
content.
No one was perfectly satisfied except the mothers of the lucky babies,
and the proprietor of the entire concern, who made a small fortune by
the operation.
The excitement is now over, the public have seen the sight, the press
has had its say, the women have shown their babies, Damphool has gone
back to the country, and the world is once more comparatively quiet.
No other so great excitement will agitate the world until next year,
when the Great Showman intends to revive the subject, and show the world
the modus operandi of baby birth, with illustrations by the mothers of
the babies who took the prizes this year, and who in another
twelve-month will probably have no shame at all in the matter, and will
stick at nothing. Let us wait, and hope.
* * * * *
JUST PUBLISHED,
PLU-RI-BUS-TAH:
A SONG THAT'S BY NO AUTHOR.
BY
Q. K. Philander Doesticks, P.B.
[Illustration]
This Book contains an unlimited quantity of hits at every body, of which
every one must good-naturedly take his share, to pay for the privilege
of laughing at his neighbors.
EMBELLISHED WITH ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS,
BY JOHN MCLENAN.
As a History of the Country, this book is invaluable, inasmuch as it
notices a great many events not mentioned by Bancroft, Hildreth, or
Prescott. As a Novel, it is unapproachable, for it contains several
characters unknown to Cooper, Dickens, Marryatt, or Bulwer. As a
Mythological Work, it should be immediately secured, as it makes mention
of a number of gods and deified worthies hitherto unknown to old Jupiter
himself. As a Poem, its claims to consideration can not be denied, as it
comprises a great many beauties not discoverable in "The Song of
Hiawatha," besides several Indian names which were therein omitted.
12mo, Muslin, Extra Gilt, price $1 00.
LIVERMORE & RUDD, _Publishers_,
310 BROADWAY, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
A BOOK THAT WILL MAKE ITS MARK!
IN PRESS.
The undersigned have the satisfaction of announcing to the Public and
the Trade that they have in Press, and will Publish in April, an
original fiction of unusual interest and merit, by an American writer,
entitled,
ASPENWOLD.
The claims of this work to a high place in the front rank of our
national literature will be admitted by every reader whose critical
abilities enable him to appreciate authorial excellence.
It is written in the form of an autobiography, like the works of
MARRYATT, and will favorably compare with the best of that popular
writer's productions.
It is free from the hackneyed incidents which comprise the principal
stock in trade of most of our modern novelists, and is emphatically
A FRESH BOOK
in the ripest sense of that much-abused term.
For its strength and naturalness of description, the reader will be
reminded of COOPER; in the flowing style of its narrative, of MARRYAT;
in the earnestness of its thought and diction, of CURRER BELL; and in
the completeness of its characters, of CHARLES DICKENS.
The power and originality of the work will ensure it a wide sale, and
secure a popularity for its author enjoyed by few.
Embellished with a beautiful Frontispiece.
408 Pages, 12mo, Cloth, Price $1 25.
LIVERMORE & RUDD, _Publishers_,
310 BROADWAY, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
WILL BE PUBLISHED IN JUNE,
BY
Q. K. Philander Doesticks, P.B.,
AND
Knight Russ Ockside, M.D.,
[Illustration: HISTORY AND RECORDS OF THE ELEPHANT CLUB.
With ILLUSTRATIONS By John McLenan
NEW YORK]
LIVERMORE & RUDD,
310 BROADWAY.
* * * * *
DOESTICKS' BOOKS.
12mo, Cloth, per Volume, $1 00.
Among the numerous testimonials from the press in all sections of the
country, we select the following, proving that the author's productions
will be sought for and read by thousands of admirers.
NOTICES OF THE PRESS.
"A humorist and a satirist of a very high order. His blows are aimed
with severe accuracy against a vast number of the follies, frailties,
and humbugs of the day."--_Baltimore American, Md._
"He shows up many of the modern popular humbugs in a very strong
light, and handles them most unmercifully."--_Dayton (Ohio) Daily
Empire._
"Doesticks is a wonder. The same happy spirit seems to pervade the
author and the artist--the illustrations of the latter are quite up
to anything Cruikshank ever achieved in the same line. If anybody
can look at these spiritings of the pencil without a loud laugh, he
is certainly out of our list of even grand fellows--but to enter
fully into the pleasing features of the work--to laugh over the
jokes, to enjoy the home-thrusts of wit and satire, our friends must
buy the book itself."--_Sunday Mercury, N. Y._
"Doesticks is one of the few immortal names that were not born to
die. Doesticks will always be with us. We have only to step into our
library, and behold there is the ubiquitous Doesticks! We take him
by the hand--we listen to the thoughts that breathe--the quaint
philosophy--the piquant illustration! Doesticks all over--Doesticks
in every page--in every line! Do you wish to make the acquaintance
of Doesticks? Every body does."--_New York Railway Journal._
"The illustrations are in admirable keeping with the general tone of
these 'unprecedented extravagances,' and will help to introduce
Doesticks and his companions to a large circle of
acquaintances."--_McMakin's Philadelphia Saturday Courier._
"'Doesticks' is irresistibly funny."--_P. T. Barnum's Letter to the
N.Y. Tribune._
"Renown has made the euphonious name of 'Doesticks' familiar to the
ear of all the reading public throughout the length and breadth of
the land. Those who would eschew the blues, and drive dull care
away, should read Doesticks--what he says."--_Lansingburg Gazette,
N. Y._
"The 'Doesticks' book is before us. Its inimitable fun sticks to us
long after we have shut the book--its rollicking humor comes back to
us in gusts."--_Boston Chronicle._
"Doesticks is an original genius. His book is just the thing to pick
up at odd moments, when time hangs heavy, and the mind seeks to be
amused."--_Gazette and Democrat, Reading, Pa._
"The essays of the rich, racy, humorous, and original Doesticks will
be read by thousands."--_New Orleans Bee._
"Doesticks' fun is not of the artificial, spasmodic order, it arises
from a keen perception of the humorous side of things."--_New York
Tribune._
"His blows at humbug are trenchant, and his sympathies are ever with
humanity."--_Boston Evening Gazette._
"Doesticks comes to us like a full and sparkling goblet, overflowing
with the rich and brilliant sayings of an original mind. If you
would drive away the 'Blue Devils,' purchase Doesticks, and every
sketch you read will be better than any pill for the indigestion."--
_The Uncle Samuel, Boston._
"What Cruikshanks, Leech, or Gavarni does with the pencil, he
accomplishes with the pen."--_The N. Y. Dutchman._
"The author is a humorist and a satirist of a very high order. His
blows are aimed with severe accuracy against a vast number of the
follies, frailties, and humbugs of the day."--_American and
Commercial Advertiser, Baltimore, Md._
LIVERMORE & RUDD, _Publishers_,
310 BROADWAY, NEW YORK.
* * * * *
A NEW DOMESTIC GUIDE FOR EVERY FAMILY!
THE AMERICAN
COTTAGE COOKERY-BOOK;
OR,
HOUSEKEEPING MADE EASY, PLEASANT AND ECONOMICAL
IN ALL ITS DEPARTMENTS
[Illustration]
THE RESULT OF MANY YEARS' PRACTICAL EXPERIENCE AND OBSERVATION, AND
DESIGNED AS A RELIABLE AID TO THOSE WHO STUDY ECONOMY OF TIME AND
MATERIALS.
BY EMILY THORNWELL.
_12mo., Illustrated, cloth back, 45 cts., 12mo., Illustrated, cloth
gilt, 75 cts._
NEW YORK:
LIVERMORE & RUDD, PUBLISHERS, 310 BROADWAY
* * * * *
"_DON'T CRACK YOUR SIDES._"
WILL APPEAR IN MAY,
GREEN PEAS,
PICKED FROM THE PATCH OF
INVISIBLE GREEN, ESQ.