When Napoleon first appeared before the grand army after his return from
Elba--when Queen Victoria made her _débût_ at the assemblage of her first
parliament--when Kean performed "Othello" at Drury Lane immediately after
he had caused a certain friend of his to play the same part in the Court
of King's Bench--the public mind was terribly agitated, and the public's
legs instinctively carried them, on each occasion, to behold those great
performers. When--to give these circumstances their highest
application,--"Punch," on Thursday last, came out in the regular drama,
the excitement was no less intense. Boxes were besieged; the pit was
choked up, and the gallery creaked with its celestial encumbrance.
As the curtain drew up, there would have been a death-like silence but for
the unparalleled sales that were taking place in apples, oranges, and
ginger-beer. Expectation was on tip-toe, as were the persons occupying
that department of the theatre called "standing-room." The looked-for
moment came; the "drop" ascended, and the spectators beheld _Mr. Dionysius
Swivel_, a pint of ale, and Punch's theatre!
"Tragedy," saith the Aristotelian recipe for cooking up a serious drama,
"should have the probable, the marvellous, and the pathetic." In the
_tableau_ thus presented, the audience beheld the three conditions
strictly complied with all at once. "It was highly probable," as _Mr.
Swivel_ observed to the source of pipes, 'bacca, and malt--in other words,
to the landlady he was addressing--that his master, the showman, was
unable to pay the score he had run up; it was marvellous that the
proprietor of so popular a puppet as "Punch" should not have even the
price of a pint of ale in his treasury; lastly, that circumstance was
deeply pathetic; for what so heart-rending as the exhibition of fallen
greatness, of broken-down prosperity, of affluence regularly stumped and
hard-up! The fact is, that "Punch," his theatre, and _corps dramatique_,
are in pawn for eight-and-ninepence!
In the midst of this distress there appears a young gentleman, giving vent
to passionate exclamations, while furiously buttoning up a tight surtout.
The object of his love is the daughter of the object of his hate. _Mr.
Snozzle_, having previously made his bow, overhears him, and being the
acting manager of "Punch," and having a variety of plots for rescuing
injured lovers from inextricable difficulties on hand, offers one of them
to the lover, considerably over cost price; namely, for the
puppet-detaining eight-and-ninepence, and a glass of brandy-and-water. The
bargain being struck, the scene changes.
To the happiness of being the possessor of "Punch," _Mr. Snozzle_ adds
that of having a wonderful wife--a lady of universal talents; who dances
in spangled shoes, plays on the tamburine, and sings Whitechapel French
like a native. This inestimable creature has already gone round the town
on a singing, dancing, and cash-collecting expedition; accompanied by the
drum, mouth-organ, and _Swivel_. We now find her enchanting the
flinty-hearted father, _Old Fellum_. Having been instrumental, by means of
her vocal abilities, in drawing from him a declaration of amorous
attachment and half-a-crown, she retires, to bury herself in the arms of
her husband, and to eradicate the score, recorded in chalk, at _Mrs.
Rummer's_ hotel.
In the meantime _Snozzle_, having sold a plot, proceeds to fulfil the
bargain by executing it. He enters with PUNCH'S theatre, to treat _Old
Fellum_ with a second exhibition, and his daughter with an elopement; for
in the midst of the performance the young lady detects the big drum in the
act of "winking at her;" and she soon discovers that PUNCH'S orchestra is
no other than her own lover. _Fellum_ is delighted with the show, to which
he is attentive enough to allow of the lovers' escaping. He pursues them
when it is too late, and having been so precipitate in his exit as to
remember to forget to pay for his amusement, _Swivel_ steals a handsome
cage, parrot included.
Good gracious! what a scene of confusion and confabulation next takes
place! _Fellum's_ first stage in pursuit is the public-house; there he
unwittingly persuades _Mrs. Snozzle_ that her spouse is unfaithful--that
_he_ it was who "stole away the old man's daughter." _Mrs. Snozzle_ raves,
and threatens a divorce; _Snozzle_ himself trembles--he suspects the
police are after him for being the receiver of stolen goods, instead of
the deceiver of unsuspecting virtue. _Swivel_ dreads being taken up for
prigging the parrot; and a frightful catastrophe is only averted by the
entrance of the truant lovers, who have performed the comedy of
"Matrimony" in a much shorter time than is allowed by the act of
Parliament.
Mrs. Keeley played the tamburine, and the part of _Snozzle femme_. This
was more than acting; it was nature enriched with humour--character
broadly painted without a tinge of caricature. The solemnity of her
countenance, while performing with her feet, was a correct copy from the
expression of self-approbation--of the wonder-how-I-do-it-so-well--always
observable during the dances of the _fair_ sex; her tones when singing
were unerringly brought from the street; her spangled dress was assuredly
borrowed from Scowton's caravan. As a work of dramatic art, this
performance is, of its kind, most complete. Keeley's _Snozzle_ was quiet,
rich, and philosophical; and Saunders made a Judy of himself with
unparalleled success. _Frank Finch_ got his deserts in the hands of a Mr.
Everett; for being a lover, no matter how awkward and ungainly an actor is
made to represent him.
* * * * *
"OH! DAY AND NIGHT, BUT THIS IS WONDROUS STRANGE!"
"We believe, from the first, _Day_ was intended to mount, and
wherefore it was made a mystery we know not.--DOINGS AT
DONCASTER."--[Sunday Times.]
Poor Coronation well may say,
"A mystery I mark;
Though jockey'd by the _lightest Day_
They tried to keep me dark."
* * * * *