Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. XI.—April, 1851—Vol. II.

"Believe me, my dear Punch,

"Yours faithfully,

"Charles Singleboy."

DRAMAS FOR EVERY-DAY LIFE

The following drama is upon a subject that will come home to the heart and tongue, the lungs and the lips, the epiglottis and the affections, of every Englishman. There is not a theme in the whole range of every-day life, that so frequently furnishes the matter of conversation, and there can be none, consequently, so universal in its interest, as the one which forms the subject of the drama we are about to present to our readers. In every circle, at every hour of every day, the first point started by every one meeting with another, and taken up by that other with the keenest relish, is – The Weather. The title may not appear at first sight a promising one, for the purposes of the dramatist; but if he can succeed in presenting to his countrymen a type of a drama for every-day life, divested of those common-places which long habit and an apparent exhaustion of the theme may have thrown about it, he will be content to hang up his harp on the first hat-peg of "Tara's," or any one else's "hall," and repose, as well as such a substitute for a mattress will allow him, upon his already-acquired laurels. But without further prologue, we will "ring up," and let the curtain rise for the drama of

THE WEATHER

Dramatis Personæ.

Mr. Muffle An old friend of the late husband of Mrs. Yawnley.

Mrs. Muffle Wife of Mr. Muffle.

Mrs. Shivers A casual acquaintance of Mrs. Yawnley, and knowing incidentally a little of the Muffles.

Mrs. Yawnley A widow, whose late husband was a friend of Mr. Muffle.

Servant to Mrs. Yawnley.

The Scene passes in the drawing-room of Mrs. Yawnley. The Stage represents a handsome drawing-room, elegantly furnished. There is a door at the back opening on to a hall in which is hung a weather-glass.

Mrs. Yawnley (in a morning dress) discovered seated in conversation with Mrs. Shivers, who wears her shawl and bonnet.

Mrs. Y. It is indeed! the winter, as you say,Has now set in with great severity.Mrs. S. Not that I think we've reason to complain.This is December, we should recollect.Mrs. Y. We should indeed – a very true remark:And one that never struck me till you made it. Enter Servant, announcing Mr. and Mrs. MuffleMrs. Y. (rising.) Dear Mrs. Muffle, this is very kind,To come to see me on a day like this.Which I and Mrs. Shivers (whom you know)Were just remarking was extremely cold.Mr. M. Cold – do you think!Mrs. Y. Yes – pray come near the fire.Mrs. M. Oh! Thank you – no – I'd really rather not.I'm very warm with walking.[Sits at a distance.Mrs. S. Probably.But walking somehow never makes me warm.[An awkward pause, during which Mr. Muffle puts his fingers between the bars of a parrot's cage, as if playing with the bird, receives a savage snap, but says nothing, as the affair is not remarked by any body.]Mrs. Y. What think you, Mister Muffle, will it rain?You gentlemen can always judge so well.Mr. M. (Walking to the window, partly to conceal the pain of his finger.) Why, that depends a good deal on the wind.Mrs. S. They say that when the smoke is beaten down,Rain may be looked for.Mrs. M. I have often heardThat if the birds fly very near the ground,Wet is in store. Look at that sparrow now,He's fairly on the ground, so it must rain.Mrs. Y. But now he's off again, and so it won't,Those adages, I think, are often wrong.Mr. M. One rule I've always found infallible.Mrs. S. Pray tell us what it is.Mrs. Y. Do – I entreat.It would be so convenient to know.Some certain rule by which to guide one's self.My glass deceives me often.Mrs. M. (in a mental aside.) Rather sayYour glass tells often some unpleasant truths.Mr. M. My weather-glass, dear madam, is my corn.Mrs. M. Why, really, Mister M., you're quite absurd;Have we the means of guidance such as that?You're positively rude.Mrs. Y. (laughing.) Oh, not at all;He's trod upon no tender place of mine.Mrs. S. I've heard some story of the tails of cows'Tis said that when to the wind's quarter turn'd,They augur rain. Now tell me, Mr. Muffle,Do you believe in that?Mr. M. I'd trust a cow's,As well as any other idle tail.Mrs. Y. That's saying very little. Tell me, now,(For your opinion, really, I respect,)Are mackerel-looking clouds a sign of wet?Mr. M. I think it probable that mackerel cloudsBetoken wet, just as a mackerel's selfPuts us in mind of water.Mrs. S. Are you jokingOr speaking as a scientific man?Mrs. Y. You're such a wag, there's never any knowingWhen you are serious, or half in jest.Dear Mrs. Muffle, you that know him best,Shall we believe him?Mrs. M. Oh, I can say nothing,[All laugh for some minutes, on and off, at the possibly intended wit of Mr. Muffle; and the tittering having died off gradually, there is a pause.]Mrs. M. (to Mrs. Y.) Have you been out much lately?Mrs. Y. No, indeed,The dampness in the air prevented me.Mrs. S. 'Tis rather drier now.Mrs. Y. I think it is.I hope I shall be getting out next week,If I can find a clear and frosty day.Mr. M. I think 'tis very probable you will.Mrs. Y. I'm quite delighted to have heard you say so;But are you quizzing us. You're such a quiz!Mr. M. (with serious earnestness.) Believe me, Mrs. Yawnley, when I sayI've far too much regard – too much esteem —For one I've known as long as I've known you,To say a word intending to mislead;In friendship's solemn earnestness I said,And say again, pledging my honor on it,'Tis my belief we may, ere very long,Some clear and frosty days anticipate.Mrs. Y. I know your kindness, and I feel it much;You were my poor dear husband's early friend.[Taking out her handkerchief. Mrs. S. goes toward the window to avoid being involved in the scene.]I feel that though with cheerful badinageYou now and then amuse a passing hour,When with a serious appeal addressed,You never make a frivolous reply.Mrs. M. (rising, and kissing Mrs. Y.) You do him justice, but we must be going.Mr. M. (giving his hand to Mrs. Y.) Good morning, Mrs. Yawnley.Mrs. Y. Won't you wait,And take some luncheon?Mr. M. Thank you; no, indeed;We must be getting home, I fear 'twill rain.Mrs. S. I think you go my way – I'm in a fly,And shall be very glad to set you down.Mrs. M. Oh, thank you; that's delightful.Mrs. S. (to Mrs. Y.) So, I'll sayGood-by at once.Mrs. Y. Well, if you will not stay.[Mr. and Mrs. Muffle, and Mrs. Shivers, exeunt by the door. Mrs. Yawnley goes to the bell. Mr. Muffle taps on the weather-glass; the bell rings; and the glass, which is going down, falls considerably at the same moment as the curtain.]

THE KITCHEN RANGE OF ART

Soyer, in his Modern Housewife, is quite angry that our great Painters have never busied themselves with "such useful and interesting subjects" as the subjects of the kitchen, instead of "continually tracing on innumerable yards of canvas the horrors of war, the destruction of a fire by fire or water, the plague, the storm, the earthquake." For this purpose, Soyer suggests some admirable historical events, connected with the Cuisine, on which artists might, with advantage, employ their genius. Among others, he mentions the following:

"Louis XIV., at Versailles, receiving from the hands of the Pacha the First Cup of Café ever made in France."

"Voltaire helping Frederic, on the Field of Potsdam, with a Cup of Cho-ca."

"Cardinal Mazarin tasting, at the Louvre, the First Cup of Chocolate."

In all matters of taste (excepting his Nectar and his Economical Soup, which, we candidly confess, we never could stomach) we always agree with the mighty Soyer. And we are so moved with his indignation at the neglect with which artists have too long visited all subjects connected with culinary art, that we go out of our way to give Royal Academicians the benefit of the following notions, which may have the desired effect of elevating the Cuisine to the same level as the Conqueror's Tent, or the Monarch's Council Chamber. We see a grand historical picture in each of the following suggestions:

"George the Third in the Old Woman's Cottage, wondering 'how ever the apples got inside the apple-dumpling.'"

"Ude Tearing his Hair, upon learning that the British Nobleman had put salt into his soup."

"The Duke of Norfolk conceiving the brilliant notion of rescuing a Nation from Starvation, by means of his celebrated Curry-Powder."

"The Immortal Courage of the Great Unknown who Swallowed the First Oyster."

"Marie-Antoinette wondering how the People could starve, when there were such nice little Gâteaux at three sous apiece."

"Napoleon Eating the Dish of Stewed Mushrooms, by which, it is said, he lost (in consequence of the indigestion), the Battle of Leipzig."

"The Resignation of Soyer at the Reform Club."

"Portrait of the Celebrated American Oyster, that was so large, that it took three men to swallow it."

"Abernathy inventing his Dinner-Pill."

"Brillat Savarin tasting the Wonderful Sauce, that was so delicious, that a person could eat his own father with it."

"Cæsar, or Dando, Astonishing the Natives."

"Heroic Death of Vatel, upon hearing that the Fish had not arrived."

"Cann first hitting upon the glorious idea of giving in Holborn 'a devilish good dinner for 2-1/2d.'"

As soon as our great Painters have put into living shape the above delicious morçeaux, we shall be prepared to furnish them with another course of the same choice quality.

Spring Fashions

Like coquettish April, Fashion is now beginning to exchange its more sombre aspect for its sweetest smiles, and to develop its pretty flowers and delicate foliage. The darker colors and firmer textures of winter are now disappearing, and all the gay hues and lighter fabrics are taking their places.

Walking Dresses. – Silks of every color and texture are now to be seen for afternoon toilet. We may cite the following as the most general form in which they are made: First, a dress of green silk or velvet, the skirt made perfectly plain and very full; three-quarters high body, fitting close to the figure, and ornamented with nœuds of velvet, to which are attached three small drops of fancy buttons, put on at regular distances, and reaching from the top of the corsage to the lower edge of the skirt. Loose sleeves, made open up to the elbow at the back, and rounded, trimmed with a double frilling of narrow velvet. Chemisette and full sleeves of white cambric. Bonnet of a deep lilac velours épinglé. Across the centre of the front is worked a wreath in tambour work, the edge of the front finished with a narrow fulling. The curtain is bordered to match the front, the interior of which is decorated with loops of ribbon, with brides to match. Such is the costume represented on the right in.

Another beautiful walking dress is of green silk, the skirt trimmed with three deep flounces, the upper one descending from the waist, and each encircled with three narrow galons, put on so as to represent square vandykes; high body, closing at the back, and ornamented in front of the chest with five nœuds papillons, and on either side three galons, forming revers. Pagoda sleeves, rather short, and finished with two frillings decorated with galons white sleeves of embroidered muslin, having three frillings of Valenciennes lace. Another pretty style is composed of moire antique of a dark blue and black ground, broché in light blue, and trimmed with a chenille lace of a dark blue color. Changeable, lilac, pale blue, and corn-color silks are now becoming fashionable for walking dresses.

Evening Costume. – Every variety of color is now fashionable for evening costume. The most favorite colors are mauve, amber, pink, lilac, blue, and peach. The centre figure in our first illustration exhibits a very elegant evening costume. A dress of pale pink satin, trimmed upon each side of the skirt with a broad lappet of the same, edged with a flat row of blonde, and confined at two distances with a nœud of satin and two ostrich feathers shaded pink, the lower part being rounded. The centre of the pointed corsage is formed of two rows of lace, divided with fullings of satin; the cape is composed of two rows of lace, headed with a fulling of ribbon. The cap is composed of white lace and decorated with pink ribbons and feathers.

Coiffures. – There is a great variety of head dresses, many of them extremely rich and elegant. They are composed of light fabrics, and flowers of the rarest kind. The latter are generally intermixed with fancy ribbons, combining the most vivid hues with threads of gold or silver, while others are varied with nœuds and streamers of ribbon velvet. Represents a neat style of head dress for an evening party, showing the arrangement of the back hair. An elegant style of coiffure is composed of the white thistle, intermixed with small clusters of gold berries and white gauze ribbon, richly embroidered with gold. Those formed of ivy leaves, interspersed with tips of white marabout sables d'or, and attached with bows of green and gold ribbon, are extremely elegant.

Bonnets. – represents a very pretty style of bonnet, adapted for early spring. It is composed of folds of pink silk or satin, ornamented within with flowers. The front is trimmed with fullings of satin, attached to which, and frilling back, is a row of pointed lace. Shows an elegant style of straw flat, for a little Miss, trimmed, in connection with the tie, with several folds of satin ribbon. The only external ornament is a long ostrich feather, sweeping gracefully around the front of the crown, and falling upon the side of the brim.

Ball Dresses are of almost every variety of style. Narrow blondes are now much used for decorating ball dresses; they give a light and sparkling effect when arranged in narrow rûches upon a dress of rich satin. Sometimes the skirt is trimmed with a single flower, upon which is placed five or six papillons of blonde, and sometimes upon one skirt are four flounces, made of the same material as the dress, or of lace. The figure on the left, in our first plate, represents an elegant and elaborate style. The dress is pale amber satin; the corsage low; the waist long, and à pointe; berthe of point d'Alençon; the sleeves are short and plain, and are nearly covered by the deep berthe; the skirt is long and full, trimmed with a double row of dentelle de laine, between which are bows of broad satin ribbon. The sortie de bal which covers the body, is of white cachmere, finished by a deep flounce of dentelle de laine. Across the front are placed five rows of fancy silk fringe; the top row going round the shoulders in the form of a small cape; the pelerine, or hood, is composed entirely of dentelle de laine; tassels at the corner in front; the sleeves very wide and trimmed with deep lace to correspond with the flounce. The hood, which, in the figure is thrown over the head, is terminated at the points with two large tassels of fancy silk. This is an elegant costume in which to leave the ball room for the carriage.

1

From a new life of Penn, by Hepworth Dixon, in the press of Blanchard and Lea, Philadelphia.

2

This little story is drawn from the French. The Revolutionary era was so fertile in romantic incidents, springing at once from the theatrical character of the people, and the extraordinary excitement of the period, that the adventure of Barbaroux is quite within the range of probability. One vote did at last condemn Louis XVI.

3

From "Rambles beyond Railways," an interesting work by W. Wilkie Collins, just published in London.

4

The writer is in earnest; this is a true story. – Ed.

5

From Mayhew's "London Labor and the London Poor," now publishing by Harper and Brothers.

6

First rate.

7

Pot of beer.

8

No.

9

Bad luck.

10

Badly.

11

From "Rambles beyond Railways," by W. Wilkie Collins.

12

From Mayhew's "London Labor and the London Poor," in the press of Messrs. Harper and Brothers.

13

It need scarcely be observed, that Jackeymo, in his conversations with his master or Violante, or his conference with himself, employs his native language, which is therefore translated without the blunders that he is driven to commit when compelled to trust himself to the tongue of the country in which he is a sojourner.

14

Mr. Dale probably here alludes to Lord Bolingbroke's ejaculation as he stood by the dying Pope; but his memory does not serve him with the exact words.