The man who wishes to study an epitome of human character--who wants to
behold choice samples of "all sorts and conditions of men"--to read out of
a small, a duodecimo edition of the great book of life--must take a
season's lodgings at a Cheltenham, a Harrowgate, or a Brighton
boarding-house. There he will find representatives of all kinds of
eccentricities,--members of every possible lodge of "odd fellows" that
Folly has admitted of her crew--mixed up with everyday sort of people,
sharpers, schemers, adventurers, fortune-hunters, male and female--widows,
wags, and Irishmen. Hence, as the "proper study of mankind is man," a
boarding-house is the place to take lessons;--even on the score of
economy, as it is possible to live decently at one of these refuges for
the destitute for three guineas a-week, exclusive, however, of wine,
servants, flirtation, and other extras.
A result of this branch of study, and an example of such a mode of
studying it, is the farce with the above title, which has been brought out
at Covent Garden. _Mrs. Walker_ (Mrs. Orger) keeps a boarding-house, which
also keeps her; for it is well frequented: so well that we find her making
a choice of inmates by choosing to turn out _Mr. Woodpecker_ (Mr. Walter
Lacy)--a mere "sleeping-apartment" boarder--to make room for _Mrs. Coo_
(Mrs. Glover), a widow, whose demands entitle her to the dignity of a
"private sitting and bedroom" lodger. _Mr. Woodpecker_ is very
comfortable, and does not want to go; but the hostess is obstinate: he
appeals to her feelings as an orphan, without home or domesticity; but the
lady, having been in business for a dozen years, has lost all sympathy for
orphans of six-and-twenty. In short, _Mrs. Walker_ determines he shall
walk, and so shall his luggage (a plethoric trunk and an obese carpet-bag
are on the stage); for she has dreamt even that has legs--such dreams
being, we suppose, very frequent to persons of her name.
You are not quite satisfied that the mere preference for a better inmate
furnishes the only reasons why the lady wants _Mr. Woodpecker's room_
rather than his company. Perhaps he is in arrear; but no, he pays his
bill: so it is not on _that_ score that he is so ruthlessly sent away. You
are, however, not kept long on the tiptoe of conjecture, but soon learn
that _Mrs. W._ has a niece, and you already know that the banished is
young, good-looking, and gay. Indeed, _Mrs. Walker_ having perambulated,
_Miss Fanny Merrivale_ (Miss Lee) appears, and listens very composedly to
the plan of an elopement from _Woodpecker_, but speedily makes her _exit_
to avoid suspicion, and the enemy who has dislodged her lover; before whom
the latter also retreats, together with his bag and baggage.
There are no classes so well represented at boarding-houses as those who
sigh for fame, and those that are dying to be married. Accordingly, we
find in _Mrs. Walker's_ establishment _Captain Whistleborough_ (Mr. W.
Farren), who is doing the extreme possible to get into Parliament, and
_Captain Pacific, R.N._, (Mr. Bartley,) who is crowding all sail to the
port of matrimony. Well knowing how boarding-houses teem with such
persons, two men who come under the "scheming" category are also inmates.
One of these, _Mr. Enfield Bam_ (Mr. Harley), is a sort of parliamentary
agent, who goes about to dig up aspirants that are buried in obscurity,
and to introduce them to boroughs, by which means he makes a very good
living. His present victim is, of course, _Captain Whistleborough_, upon
whom he is not slow in commencing operations.
_Captain Whistleborough_ has almost every requisite for an orator. He is
an army officer; so his manners are good and his self-possession complete.
His voice is commanding, for it has been long his duty to give the word of
command. Above all, he has a mania to become a member. Yet, alas! one
trifling deficiency ruins his prospects; he has an impediment in his
speech, which debars him from the use of the _W's_. Like the French
alphabet, that letter is denied to him. When he comes to a syllable it
begins, he is _spell_-bound; though he longs to go on, he pulls up quite
short, and sticks fast. The first _W_ he meets with in the flowery paths
of rhetoric causes him to be as dumb as an oyster, or as O. Smith in
"Frankenstein." In vain does he try the Demosthenes' plan by sucking
pebbles on the Brighton shore and haranguing the _w_aves, though he is
unable to address them by name. All is useless, and he has resigned
himself to despair and a Brighton boarding-house, when _Mr. Enfield Bam_
gives him fresh hopes. He informs him that the proprietress of a pocket
borough resides under the same roof, and that he will (for the usual
consideration) get the Captain such an introduction to her as shall ensure
him a seat in her good graces, and another in St. Stephen's. _Mr. Bam_,
therefore, goes off to negotiate with _Miss Polecon_ (Mrs. Tayleure), and
makes way for the intrigues of another sort of an agent, who lives in the
house.
This is _Rivet_ (Mr. C. Mathews), a gentleman who undertakes to procure
for an employer anything upon earth he may want, at so much per cent.
commission. There is nothing that this very general agent cannot get hold
of, from a hack to a husband--from a boat to a baronetcy--from a
tortoise-shell tom-cat to a rich wife. Matrimonial agency is, however, his
passion, and he has plenty of indulgence for it in a Brighton
boarding-house. _Captain Pacific_ wants a wife, _Mrs. Coo_ is a widow, and
all widows want husbands. Thus _Rivet_ makes sure of a swingeing
commission from both parties; for, in imagination, and in his own
memorandum-book, he has already married them.
Here are the ingredients of the farce; and in the course of it they are
compounded in such wise as to make _Woodpecker_ jealous, merely because he
happens to find _Fanny_ in the dark, and in _Whistleborough's_ arms; to
cause the latter to negotiate with _Mrs. Coo_ for a seat in Parliament,
instead of a wedding-ring; and _Pacific_ to talk of the probable prospects
of the nuptial state to _Miss Polecon_, who is an inveterate spinster and
a political economist, professing the Malthusian creed. _Rivet_ finding
_Fanny_ and her friend are taking business out of his hands by planning an
elopement _en amateur_, gets himself "regularly called in," and manages to
save _Woodpecker_ all the trouble, by contriving that _Whistleborough_
shall run away with the young lady by mistake, so that _Woodpecker_ might
marry her, and no mistake. _Bam_ bams _Whistleborough_, who ends the piece
by threatening his deceiver with an action for breach of promise of
borough, all the other breaches having been duly made up; together with
the match between _Mrs. Coo_ and _Pacific_.
If our readers want to be told what we think of this farce, they will be
disappointed; if they wish to know whether it is good or bad, witty or
dull, lively or stupid--whether it ought to have been damned outright, or
to supersede the Christmas pantomime--whether the actors played well or
played the deuce--whether the scenery is splendid and the appointments
appropriate or otherwise, they must judge for themselves by going to see
it; because if we gave them our opinion they would not believe us, seeing
that the author is one of our most esteemed (especially over a boiled
chicken and sherry), most merry, most jolly, most clever colleagues; one,
in fine, of PUNCH'S "United Service."
* * * * *
"I have been running ever since I was born and am not tired now"--as the
brook said to Captain Barclay.
"Hookey"--as the carp said, when he saw a worm at the end of a line.
"_Nothing is_ certain"--as the fisherman said, when he always found it in
his nets.
"Brief let it be"--as the barrister said in his conference with the
attorney.
"He is the greatest liar on (H) earth"--as the cockney said of the
lapdog he often saw lying before the fire.
When is a hen most likely to hatch? When she is in earnest (her nest).
Why are cowardly soldiers like butter? When exposed to a _fire_ they
_run_.
Do you sing?--says the teapot to the kettle--Yes, I can manage to get over
a few _bars_.--Bah, exclaimed the teapot.
* * * * *