DOI issue:
March 17, 1866
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16877#0125
March 17, 1866.]
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
117
TWO MAY BE COMPANY, THREE ARE NONE.
EMILY AND FRED HAVE ARRANGED TO TAKE CARE OF EACH OTHER, PART OF THE WAY.
Polite G-uard cuts in (supposing E unprotected). ‘‘There’s a Lady in the next Carriage, Miss.” [E. doesn't seem to se« it.
ANOTHER DROP FOR THE DRAMA.
With exquisite good taste a highly enterprising Manager engaged
“ a few of the survivors55 who were rescued from the London, and has
been paying them to appear every evening at his theatre, as a prelude
to the gambols of Pantaloon and Clown. With a similar high notion of
the duties of men catering to entertain the public, another enterprising
Manager has hired “kind old Daddy,” late of Lambeth Work-
house, to exhibit himself nightly in a new sensation drama, called The
Casual Ward. “ Sweet are the uses of adversity,” when it is utilised
in this way for dramatic exhibition; and flourishing indeed is the con-
dition of the drama, when such magnets are deemed requisite to make
a play attractive, and to draw a decent house.
In putting plays upon the stage, some of our Managers of late have
greatly studied the realities, introducing real gas-lamps to illumine a
street scene, and cascades of real water in lieu of simple paint. This mania
for realities appears to be extending, and real persons are exhibited as
well as real things. A murderer’s “ real gig ” was once announced as
an attraction, and perhaps we soon may see a real murderer on the
stage, and be told he has been respited in order to appear there for a
few more extra nights. Or haply a sensation play may be produced,
with a real gang of housebreakers engaged expressly to perform iu it,
and a real safe provided to be broken open nightly by “ the Alderman ”
and other lawful implements in vogue.
If the horrors of the casual ward be thought a fitting subject for dra-
matic exhibition, perhaps we soon may see a drama called The Union
Infirmary, with a score of real paupers all lying really ill. Or a sensa-
tion scene of surgery perhaps might prove attractive, and a real leg or
arm be amputated nightly, before a crowded house. The exquisite
good taste which led a Manager to hire some rescued sailors for his
stage, and turn the terrors of a shipwreck to theatrical account, perhaps
may set the fashion for founding a new drama on any terrible disaster
that the newspapers record. Playgoers will thus become familiarised
with horrors, which they read of with dismay; and to some minds a
calamity may fail to cause regret, on the ground of its affording a good
subject for the stage. No doubt but the Cattle Plague may somehow
soon be turned to some theatrical account. To please the Cockney
playgoer, real cows might be exhibited, and real cow-doctors employed
to wrangle and dispute. The audience in this way might be readily
prepared for a strong sensation scene, wherein a real pole-axe might
make a real hit. The band might then strike up the tune the old cow
died of (whatever that may be); and, as a touchmg climax, a “ few of
the survivors ” might slowly stalk across the stage.
LAW AND POLICE.
A Cabman being haled before the sitting Magistrate for assaulting a
passenger, defended himself by saying that he always pursued this
course on principle. In reply to a question from the Bench, as to what
principle was involved, he said, “None but the brave deserve the fare.”
The Magistrate said he was fond of boxing himself. The Plaintiff was
consequently fined five shillings, and the Cabman left the Court with
his friends.
At the Old Bailey, Snooks, the Editor of the Skating Mercury, was
indicted for libelling Jones, an actor. Snooks pleaded guilty, and
apologised. The learned Judge said, that, after all, this was only a
metaphysical question. Snooks had undoubtedly libelled Jones most
grossly, and most indefensibly. But he (the learned Judge) was fond
of skating himself, and therefore, as imprisonment would deprive a very
admirable skater of a great deal of amusement if the frost lasted, he
would sentence him to be fined.
The Prisoner hoped that his Lordship wouldn’t make the fine too
heavy.
The Learned Judge. Oh, no ! You’ve only libelled an actor, and, as I
am very fond of skating, we’ll say £10, eh? Come, £10 won’t hurt
you.
The Prisoner thought that perhaps that sum wouldn’t hurt him very
much. The case was then concluded amicably.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
117
TWO MAY BE COMPANY, THREE ARE NONE.
EMILY AND FRED HAVE ARRANGED TO TAKE CARE OF EACH OTHER, PART OF THE WAY.
Polite G-uard cuts in (supposing E unprotected). ‘‘There’s a Lady in the next Carriage, Miss.” [E. doesn't seem to se« it.
ANOTHER DROP FOR THE DRAMA.
With exquisite good taste a highly enterprising Manager engaged
“ a few of the survivors55 who were rescued from the London, and has
been paying them to appear every evening at his theatre, as a prelude
to the gambols of Pantaloon and Clown. With a similar high notion of
the duties of men catering to entertain the public, another enterprising
Manager has hired “kind old Daddy,” late of Lambeth Work-
house, to exhibit himself nightly in a new sensation drama, called The
Casual Ward. “ Sweet are the uses of adversity,” when it is utilised
in this way for dramatic exhibition; and flourishing indeed is the con-
dition of the drama, when such magnets are deemed requisite to make
a play attractive, and to draw a decent house.
In putting plays upon the stage, some of our Managers of late have
greatly studied the realities, introducing real gas-lamps to illumine a
street scene, and cascades of real water in lieu of simple paint. This mania
for realities appears to be extending, and real persons are exhibited as
well as real things. A murderer’s “ real gig ” was once announced as
an attraction, and perhaps we soon may see a real murderer on the
stage, and be told he has been respited in order to appear there for a
few more extra nights. Or haply a sensation play may be produced,
with a real gang of housebreakers engaged expressly to perform iu it,
and a real safe provided to be broken open nightly by “ the Alderman ”
and other lawful implements in vogue.
If the horrors of the casual ward be thought a fitting subject for dra-
matic exhibition, perhaps we soon may see a drama called The Union
Infirmary, with a score of real paupers all lying really ill. Or a sensa-
tion scene of surgery perhaps might prove attractive, and a real leg or
arm be amputated nightly, before a crowded house. The exquisite
good taste which led a Manager to hire some rescued sailors for his
stage, and turn the terrors of a shipwreck to theatrical account, perhaps
may set the fashion for founding a new drama on any terrible disaster
that the newspapers record. Playgoers will thus become familiarised
with horrors, which they read of with dismay; and to some minds a
calamity may fail to cause regret, on the ground of its affording a good
subject for the stage. No doubt but the Cattle Plague may somehow
soon be turned to some theatrical account. To please the Cockney
playgoer, real cows might be exhibited, and real cow-doctors employed
to wrangle and dispute. The audience in this way might be readily
prepared for a strong sensation scene, wherein a real pole-axe might
make a real hit. The band might then strike up the tune the old cow
died of (whatever that may be); and, as a touchmg climax, a “ few of
the survivors ” might slowly stalk across the stage.
LAW AND POLICE.
A Cabman being haled before the sitting Magistrate for assaulting a
passenger, defended himself by saying that he always pursued this
course on principle. In reply to a question from the Bench, as to what
principle was involved, he said, “None but the brave deserve the fare.”
The Magistrate said he was fond of boxing himself. The Plaintiff was
consequently fined five shillings, and the Cabman left the Court with
his friends.
At the Old Bailey, Snooks, the Editor of the Skating Mercury, was
indicted for libelling Jones, an actor. Snooks pleaded guilty, and
apologised. The learned Judge said, that, after all, this was only a
metaphysical question. Snooks had undoubtedly libelled Jones most
grossly, and most indefensibly. But he (the learned Judge) was fond
of skating himself, and therefore, as imprisonment would deprive a very
admirable skater of a great deal of amusement if the frost lasted, he
would sentence him to be fined.
The Prisoner hoped that his Lordship wouldn’t make the fine too
heavy.
The Learned Judge. Oh, no ! You’ve only libelled an actor, and, as I
am very fond of skating, we’ll say £10, eh? Come, £10 won’t hurt
you.
The Prisoner thought that perhaps that sum wouldn’t hurt him very
much. The case was then concluded amicably.