Punch (70.1876)

12

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[January 22, 1876.

nor the great merit of the actors (of one in particular, whose name
my native modesty will not allow to pass these lips), that lifted the
roof off several theatres where this play has been performed, that
caused the audience to shout with frantic delight, wave their hand-
kerchiefs and hats, throw bouquets to me, Sir, and compel the actors
to repeat one song and dance six times, and another twice, nightly,
and that cheer after cheer rang through the house when, freely in-
viting contradiction, I asserted that Captain Crosstree was my name ?
Surely there is no attempt throughout the play to palliate the
offence of a Naval Officer allowing himself to be disguised in liquor ?
Why do the spectators watch with interest my progress across the
stage, my necktie disarranged, my hair unkempt, as I endeavour to
place a bottle carefully on the table ? Are they actuated by their
love for the bottle, or their regard for me ? And, when an announce-
ment is made by Captain Crosstree (myself), at the end of the piece,
to the effect, that having taken the pledge, I am wearing a medal
given me by Sib. Wilfrid Lawson, why are these words greeted
with hearty applause ? May we answer: it is because the great
English people have begun to forgive the offence which they have no
desire to forget ? The question has been asked, nearly seven
hundred times in London alone, of millions of people of all classes,
and has been answered from the Prince and Princess of Wales,
the Queen of Denmark, the Princess Thyra (in a private box), and
their respective suites (in the stalls), down to, or, rather, up to, the
humblest mechanic in the sixpenny gallery, without one dissentient
voice. No, Sir, out of all this vast multitude not one single soul has
risen in his place to assert that Captain Crosstree is not my name. I
have delayed calling your attention to this matter until this moment,
when we are on the eve of playing the piece for the seven hundredth
time, and no charge for booking. -

I am no engineer, Sir, any more than you are, but if I venture
out of my mental depth, it is to ask you to request Mr. W. H. to go
down in a diving-bell and raise the Vanguard, then repair the
errors of recent Naval Court Martials, and the injuries of the Iron
Duke, and, finally recall the Second Slave Circular.
Then, Sir, and not till then, will I cease to assert before a loyal

cheer after cheer shakes the walls of the theatre. Sir, there are
man}" young men in London in a similar predicament. Ptescue
these struggling authors, provide them with pensions, and your
heart will not feel the worse here or hereafter (although the public
purse may).

Your very obedient servant,

H. J. B.

gIE) Opera Comique.

Trial by Jury is received nightly with great applause. If
we were asked what it is that evokes the generous enthusiasm of
the audience, ",we should answer, that it is the fact that the Judge
nobly marries the Plaintiff in a Breach of Promise suit. Make this
a law, Sir! In future, compel all judges in this class of cases to
marry the Plaintiffs, and high as is the esteem in which you are now
held by the people of Great Britain, thirty million hearts in thirty
million bosoms will beat still more warmly towards you.

Your very obedient servants,

W. S. Gr,

Arthur S.

"cover your heads."

considering
that Mr. Jack
Frost appears
to be much
inclined to
look in, or,
rather, to
look out upon
us every now
and then, it
seems a great
pity that the

and generous public that, with all respect to you, Sir, my name is— /i'^0^~\7^:^^^^^K (i) WW\ 3? ^~r— young and

Aboard H.M.S. Polly JPhcmus. Captain Crosstree, P.N. MM) C=^^^^_J*%4^- Jjv > lovely of the

mm J^£^^V\ yj \X ^r^.w weaker sex

Sir,

We have produced a Play of which the universe has now
heard much. We have called it All for Her ; but believe us, Sir,
when we say that we have had no other wish in producing it than
that of assisting the ill-used publican. It is All for Him that we
have now at the present moment some three thousand reformed
drunkards hammering at the Pit-door. To you, Sir, the first Dra-
matist in the world—for such assuredly you would be if you turned
your magnificent talents to writing for the Stage—to you, Sir, we
appeal on behalf of our ill-used countrymen. Why should the
public-house be closed at half-past twelve, now there are no more
inebriates in our noble city ?

Put on the clock, Sir, to two a.m., and the millions of Londoners
who have flooded our boxes and stalls with their tears will bless
the Authors of All for Her.

We have the honour to remain,

P. S. and H. M.

Sir,

To you, the brightest Star on that Stage which is the World, I
address myself, as I would have you believe that I love my country
every bit as much as Mr. Boucicault.

I have just withdrawn for ever my historical Play of Buckingham.
Thousands and tens of thousands of Judges and Jurymen, from the
Lord Mayor downwards, declared nightly for the space—well, for
a considerable period—their faith in the dynasty of the Stuarts.
To you, Sir, the only poet of our epoch, I proudly point as the man
who has it in his power to remove the reigning House from the
Throne and so do tardy justice to the Irish branch of the Stuarts,
which the voices of a million admirers have elected to the Throne of
England. Lor this I have struggled; for this I penned my Charles
the First; for this I ran down Cromwell, and threw the halo of a
chaste but ardent imagination around Buckingham. That play will
never appear again ; but my convictions will remain the same until
I lose my head as the great Charles did before me.

I am writing another piece in honour of the Stuarts, for which
all the staUs and boxes are retained for one hundred nights in
advance.

I have the honour to remain

Your obedient Servant,

W. G. W.

Sir, Vaudeville Theatre.

For over three hundred nights the English people have
witnessed at this theatre a play called Our Boys. In that play two
young men endeavour to earn their living by the literary craft,
wherein you are the most distinguished living adept. They
starve, Sir—they are rescued,—they are amply provided for, and

(courtesy
title) should
insist upon
wearing rink
hats and bon-
nets (cour-
tesy title
again) cocked
a - top of
their pretty
little heads.
The saying
'' beauty un-
adorned is
adorned the
most" is all
very well in

the Summer time, when the sun is powerful and the sky cloudless,
but when Winter brings his snow, frost, and cruel winds, to freeze
our fingers and to tint our noses, "defence and defiance" should
become our motto.

If a lover knows that the unprotected ear of his mistress is the
victim of an attack of neuralgia, how can he comfortably whisper
soft nothings into it ? The Imps of Eheumatism and Influenza
should be seen only in the openings of our Pantomimes. They should
never be allowed to make the acquaintance of our sisters, our
sweethearts, and our wives. Selfish man has his Ulster, with its
hood; but woman—lovely woman—claims only the protection of
that falsest of friends, Madam Fashion. And what has Madam
Fashion done for her votaries ? Little good and much bad. It was
by the command of this hardest of task-mistresses that maidens
assumed robes of arsenic green, and robbed the poor little Dicky
birds of their pretty plumage. It was by her command that hoops,
dyes, and false hair were rummaged out of the lumber-rooms of
the Past to figure once again in the drawing-rooms of the Present.

Contempt follows close upon disgust when it is found that Madam
Fashion is not only cruel but stupid. The poison of the arsenic
might have been condoned had the colour of its green been becom-
ing. Rink hats and dolls' bonnets might be tolerated were they only
pretty. But neither the dye nor the head-dress could show the
liall-mark of good-taste. The mysterious is closely allied_ to the
lovely, and the girl who displays her face too fully forfeits half
her charm. What would a transformation scene be without its
gradual changes ? What would the paintings at the E,oyal Academy
be without their fitting frames ? It tmay not be very gallant to
liken the face of a Lady to a picture, and yet faces, like pictures,
require their setting. A sensible bonnet should act as the frame to