The Art of Amusing

Balancing chair on chin.

Holding child three years old at arm's length.

Lying with the head on one chair and the heels on another without any intermediate support, and in this position allowing an apparently heavy but really light trunk to be placed on his chest.

The whole wound up by his dancing a negro breakdown to imitation banjo1 on the piano, the entire audience patting Juba.

Now another performer appeared on the stage, dressed in extravagant imitation of the one who had preceded him, and commenced parodying in a still more extravagant style all the motions of the professional acrobat. We expected something grand! After innumerable flourishes he brought forward a small three-pound dumb-bell, laid it on the floor, and, bowing meekly to the audience in different parts of the house, he stooped down as though about to make an immense muscular effort, grasped the dumb-bell, slowly stretched it forth at arm's length, held it there a second or two, and then laid it down again, made a little flourish with his hands, and a low bow, just as they do in the circus after achieving something extra fine. In this way the performer went on burlesquing till we all roared with laughter. When he had retired, a conjuror appeared and exhibited numerous tricks, such as the ring trick, tricks with hat and dice, cup and ball, etc.; but as all these need machinery, we will not describe them at present. One or two, however, we may explain. No. 1. The performer presented a pack of cards to one of the audience and begged him to select a card; this the performer then took in his own hand, and carried it with its face downward, so that he could not see it, and placed in the middle of the floor of the stage; he then produced a large brown-paper cone, and placed it over the card, and commenced talking to the audience, telling them what he could do and what he could not do: finally he informed the audience that he could make that card pass to any place he or they chose to name. Where would they have it? One said one place, one another, till finally he pretended reluctantly to accede to one particularly importunate person's wishes, and declared that it should be found in the leaves of a certain book on a certain table at the back of the audience – and there it was, sure enough. This was done by having a piece of waxed paper attached to a thread lying ready in the middle of the floor; on this waxed paper the conjuror pressed the card, the thread being carried out under the screen at the back, where stood a confederate, who quietly pulled the card out from under the cone, and while the conjuror was talking he walked round, entered by another door, and placed the card in the book, where it was subsequently found.

Another trick consisted in his allowing a person to draw a card which he was requested to examine carefully, and even to mark slightly with a pencil. While the spectator was doing this, the performer turned round the pack in his hand so as to have all the faces of the cards upwards except the top one, which showed its back; he then desired that the card might be slipped anywhere into the pack; he then shuffled them well. Of course, on inspecting the pack he soon detected the selected card, it being the only one with its face down, which, after various manipulations, putting under cones and what not, he returned to the audience much to their surprise.

These efforts at legerdemain were certainly not very brilliant, but they amused the audience and were easy to do. We should like to give a few more of his simple tricks, but with one illusion-trick we will close the chapter, for which purpose it will serve, as it formed the finale to the conjuror's performance.

He stepped forward and said:

"I have shown you many wonderful things, but they are as nothing compared to what I can do. My supernatural power is such that I can lengthen or compress the human frame to any extent I please. You doubt it? Well, I will show you. You see Mr. Smith, yonder; he is a rather tall man; six feet two, I should judge? Well, I will throw him into a trance, and while he is in that state, I will squeeze him down to a length of about three feet, and I will have him carried to you in that condition. I must only insist upon one thing, and that is, that you do not say hokey pokey winkey fumm while he is in the trance; for if you do it might wake him up, and then he would be fixed at the height of three feet for the rest of his life; I could never stretch him out again."

Mr. Smith was requested to step behind the curtain. He walked forward, pale but firm and collected. Soon after he had disappeared we heard strange noises and fearful incantations, accompanied by a slight smell of brimstone and a strong smell of peppermint. After a few minutes the tall Mr. Smith was carried in on the shoulders of two men a perfect dwarf, as promised by the conjuror, and as represented in the following cut.

How this is managed will become tolerably clear to the reader on examining the next diagram.

The tall Mr. S. had put a pair of boots on his hands, a roll of sheeting round his neck, so as to form something resembling a pillow, behind his head; then something on his arms under his chin to represent his chest (which is not shown in the diagram), and over that a baby's cradle-quilt, and then he rested his boots on another gentleman's shoulders; two long sticks were provided and slung as represented, and the miracle was complete. We have seen the figure lengthened to an inordinate extent by the same process, the only difference being that the gentlemen were further apart.

Mr. Nix's party concluded, after several other games and amusements, with a neat but inexpensive entertainment, consisting of sandwiches, sardines, cold chicken, cakes, oranges, apples, nuts, candies, punch, negus, and lemonade. But everything was good of its kind; the sandwiches were sandwiches, and not merely two huge slices of bread plastered with butter, concealing an irregular piece of sinew and fat, which in vain you try to sever with your teeth, till you find yourself obliged to drop the end out of your mouth, or else to pull the whole piece of meat out from between the bread, and allow it to hang on your chin till you cram it all into your mouth at once. His were not sandwiches of that kind, but, as we said before, sandwiches; the cakes had plenty of sugar in them, and so had the lemonade. But, above all, what made these little trifles the most enjoyable was the taste displayed by some one in the decoration of the table with a few evergreens, some white roses made out of turnip, and red roses out of beets, not to mention marigolds that once were carrots, nor the crisp frills of white paper which surrounded the large round cakes, nor the green leaves under the sandwiches, the abundance of snowy linen, shining knives and forks, and spoons. But we must conclude; what we wish particularly to impress upon the minds of our readers by thus dwelling on sandwiches and fine linen is, that you cannot afford to ignore one sense while you propose to gratify another; they are all intimately related and bound together like members of a fire company; if you offend one, all the others take it up.

CHAPTER IV

In our last chapter we promised to explain the nature of the little instrument by which the Night-Howler produced those "hideous and unearthly noises" to which we alluded. We will now proceed to do so; and as this instrument is the same as that used by showmen in the play of Punch and Judy, we cannot do better, while we are about it, than instruct our readers how to get up a Punch and Judy show.

First, with regard to the instrument. It is a very simple affair: get two small pieces of clean white pine, and with a sharp knife cut them of the shape and size of the diagram marked 1. Then put these two pieces together as represented in Figure 2, having previously slipped between them a piece of common tape, also represented in the diagram (the tape must be just the same width as the wood); then wind some thread round the whole thing lengthwise (to keep the bits of wood together and the tape taut), and the Punch-trumpet is made, as represented in figure 3. Place the instrument between your lips and blow; if you cannot produce noise enough to distract any well-regulated family in three-quarters of an hour, we are very much mistaken.

To produce variety of notes and tones, as well as to speak through it, after the manner of the Punch showmen, the instrument must be placed well back in the mouth near the root of the tongue, in such a position that you can blow through it and at the same time retain free use of your tongue. A little practice will enable you to do this, and to pronounce many words in a tolerably understandable manner. To discover this last item in the use of the instrument, simple as it is, cost the writer of this an infinity of trouble and some money; and it was not until after two years' hunting and inquiry, and the employment of agents to hunt up professors of Punch and Judy, that we discovered an expert who, for a handsome fee, explained the matter; and then, of course, we were amazingly surprised that we had never thought of it before. From the same expert we learned how to make another instrument by means of which it is possible to imitate the note of almost every animal, from the hog to the canary-bird. We soon compassed the hog, the horse, the hen, the dog, the little pig, and something that might be called the horse-linnet, or the hog-canary; but ere long we found that considerable practice was necessary to enable us to accomplish the finer notes of the singing-birds. How to make this latter instrument we will explain in a future chapter; at present we must go on with the play of Punch and Judy.

We commence instructions with a view taken behind the scenes, which will help the description (see cut on page 40). We may state that the London showmen carry about with them a species of little theatre of simple construction, which is of course better than a mere door-way; but as the latter will answer the purpose, and many people will not care to make a theatre, we will at present content ourselves with that which every house affords.

In the play of Punch and Judy there are many characters – indeed, you can introduce almost as great a variety as you please; but the leading ones are:

Mr. Punch, a merry gentleman, of violent and capricious temper.

Judy (wife of Punch).

Baby (offspring of Punch and Judy).

Ghost.

Constable.

The heads of these characters can be made in several ways. The first is to get the necessary number of common round wooden lucifer match-boxes and some red putty. With the putty you make the noses and chins of the characters (all except the Ghost, who requires no nose). With a camel's-hair brush and a little India-ink or black paint you mark out the features strongly, taking care to make the eyes and eyeballs of a good size, so as to be seen at a distance. With a little red paint or red chalk you can color the cheeks, and with a little white paint or white chalk give brilliancy to the teeth and eyes. The annexed cut will show what the style of countenance ought to be of each, No. 1 being the Constable, No. 2 Judy, and No. 3 Mr. Punch himself. The Ghost is not represented. In feature he is much like the Constable, only that his face must be made as white as possible, and the features simply marked out in blue or green or black. The Baby can be made out of an ordinary clothes-pin or stick of wood.

If the match-boxes cannot be easily obtained, just roll up a good-sized card, as represented in this figure, and paint on it the features. The nose and chin can be made of a bit of red rag or paper folded up of the desired shape, and either sewed or gummed on. Another and far better way of making these heads (though it takes more trouble), is to get a carpenter to cut out for you four or five pieces of white pine or other fine wood of the shape of the sketch annexed, with a hole in each large enough to easily admit your fore-finger. From this block you can carve as elaborate a head as you please, and one of larger size than the match-box, which will be advantageous. The diagram marked O will show you how to set about making the carving. Having now made the bald heads, you must proceed to dress them. Punch must have a bright red cap with yellow tassel and binding, like the one in the accompanying sketch. Judy must have a white cap with broad frill and black ribbon. The Constable must have a wig made out of some scrap of fur (the remains of a tippet or cuff), or if fur cannot be procured, a piece of rope unravelled will make a good wig. The Ghost only requires his winding-sheet drawn over his head. All these can be nailed on the heads of the actors with small tacks without hurting their feelings.

Having got the heads complete, we will proceed to construct their bodies. These merely consist of empty garments, the operator's hand supplying the bone and sinew. The dresses must be neatly fastened round the neck of the head, so that when the performer puts his hand inside the dress, he can thrust his fore-finger into the hole in the head. They must of course be sufficiently large to admit the hand of the showman, each sleeve to admit a thumb or finger, and the neck large enough for the passage of the fore-finger. Thus the thumb represents one arm, the middle finger another arm, whilst the fore-finger, thrust into the head, supports and moves it about. The style of dress of Punch and Judy can be easily seen in the small sketch. The color of Punch's coat should be red, with yellow facings, with a hump sewed on his back and a paunch in front. Judy should have a spotted calico and white neck-handkerchief. The Constable had better be attired in black, and the Ghost and Baby in white. Each of the sleeves should have a hand fastened into it. The hands can be made of little slips of wood, with fingers and thumbs marked on them. They should be about two and a half or three inches long, only about three-quarters of an inch of which, however, will project beyond the sleeve; the rest, being inside, will serve to give stiffness to the arm when the performer's fingers are not long enough to reach the whole way.

Mr. Punch requires a club wherewith to beat his wife, and to perform his various other assaults and batteries. A gallows, too, should be provided, on the plan represented in the diagram, the use of which will be explained hereafter.

So much for the performers. Now for the theatre and the play. The theatre is easily made. A narrow board about three or four inches wide should be fixed across an open doorway just about one inch higher up than the top of the head of the exhibitor. From this board hangs a curtain long enough to reach the floor. Behind this curtain stands the operator, with his actors all ready on a chair or table at his side. He puts his Punch-trumpet in his mouth, gives one or two preliminary root-et-too-teet-toos, puts his hand fairly inside Mr. Punch's body, and hoists him up so that half his manly form may be seen above the screen. A glance at our picture, Behind the Scenes, will explain anything our words have failed to convey. The audience are of course on the opposite side of the curtain to which the performer stands.

Before we commence with the dialogue of the play, we must mention one very important part of the exhibition. As Mr. Punch's voice is, at the best of times, rather husky, it is necessary that the exhibitor should have a colleague or interpreter among the audience who knows the play by heart, and who, from practice, can understand what Mr. Punch says better than the audience. This person must repeat after Punch whatever he may say, only not to wound his feelings; he must do so in the form of questions – for example, suppose Mr. Punch says, "Oh! I've got such a pretty baby!" the showman outside must repeat: "Oh! you've got a pretty baby, Mr. Punch, have you? Where is she?" The outside showman ought to have some instrument to play on – a tin tea-tray or tin pan will do – and if there is any one to accompany him on the piano when Mr. Punch sings a song or dances, so much the better. Now for the play.

Mr. Punch makes his début by dancing round his small stage in an extravagant and insane manner, singing some rollicking song in his own peculiar style. Having indulged himself in this way for a few seconds, he pulls up suddenly, and looking over the edge of the screen at the showman outside, exclaims:

Punch. "I say, old hoss!"

Showman. "I say, 'old hoss!' Mr. Punch, that's not a very polite way to address a gentleman. Well, what do you say?"

P. "I say!"

S. "Well, what do you say?"

P. "I say!"

S. "Well, you've said 'I say!' twice before. What is it you have to say?"

P. "I say!"

S. "What?"

P. "Nothing particular!"

Mr. Punch dances off, hilariously singing.

S. "Nothing particular! Well, that is a valuable communication."

P. (Stopping again). "Oh, you April fool!"

S. "April fool? No, Mr. Punch, I'm not an April fool. This isn't the first of April."

P. "Isn't it? Well, salt it down till next year."

S. "Salt it down till next year? No, thankee, Mr. Punch. Guess you'll want it for your own use."

P. "Mr. Showman!"

S. "Well, Mr. Punch?"

P. "Have you seen my wife?"

S. "Seen your wife? No, Mr. Punch."

P. "She's such a pretty creature!"

S. "Such a pretty creature, eh? Well, I'd like to be introduced."

P. "She's such a beauty! She's got a nose just like mine" (touching his snout with his little hand).

S. "Got a nose just like yours, eh? Well, then, she must be a beauty."

P. "She's not quite so beautiful as me, though."

S. "Not so beautiful as you? No, of course not, Mr. Punch; we couldn't expect that."

P. "You're a very nice man. I like you."

S. "Well, I'm glad you like me, Mr. Punch."

P. "Shall I call my wife?"

S. "Yes, by all means call your wife, Mr. Punch."

P. (Calling loudly). "Judy! Judy, my dear! Judy! come up-stairs!"

Judy now makes her appearance. Punch draws back and stands gazing at her for a few minutes in mute admiration. Without moving, he exclaims: "What a beauty!" then, turning to the audience, he asks earnestly: "Isn't she a beauty?" He now turns to Judy and asks her for a kiss; they approach and hug each other in a prolonged embrace, Mr. Punch all the time emitting a species of gurgling sound expressive of rapture. This is repeated several times, interspersed with the remarks of Mr. Punch on the beauty of his spouse; after which, at Mr. P.'s suggestion, the couple dance together to lively music and the enlivening tones of Mr. P.'s voice; the performance winding up by Mr. Punch's leaning up against the door of the theatre exhausted and delighted, and giving vent to a prolonged chuckle of gratification.

Punch now turns to the Showman and asks him if he has ever seen his Baby. The Showman replying in the negative, Punch extols the beauty of his offspring in the same extravagant strain as he has already done that of his wife, makes the same comparison between his own and the Baby's nose, declares that the Baby never cries, and that she is "so fond of him."

The Baby is now ordered to be brought up-stairs, and Judy disappears to obey her lord's mandate. During her absence Punch favors the company with a song. When Judy returns, bearing the infant Punch in her arms, Mr. P. goes into raptures, calls it a pretty creature, pats its cheek, and goes through all the little endearing ceremonies common to fathers. After again informing the Showman that his Baby never cries, and is fondly attached to him, he takes the infant in his arms, whereupon she immediately sets up a continuous howl. Punch tries to hush and pacify it for some time, but at last, losing his temper, shakes it violently and throws it out of the window, or in other words, at the feet of the audience. Judy is of course distracted, weeps bitterly, and upbraids her husband, when the enraged Mr. Punch dives down-stairs and gets his club, and whilst Mrs. P. is still weeping, gives her three or four sound blows on the back of the head. This makes Mrs. P. cry still more, which, in turn, increases Mr. P.'s wrath, who ends by beating her to death and throwing her after the Baby. The Showman upbraids Punch with his crime, but Punch defends himself by saying it served her right. However, he finally admits that he is naturally a little hasty, but then he adds, "It's over in a minute," and that's the kind of disposition he likes. He further adds:

P. "I'm a proud, sensitive nature."

S. "You're a proud, sensitive nature, are you, Mr. Punch? I don't see much pride in killing a baby."

P. "That's because you don't understand the feelings of a gentleman."

S. "Because I don't understand the feelings of a gentleman? Well, if those are the feelings of a gentleman, I don't want to understand them, Mr. Punch."

This dialogue can be carried on to suit the taste and invention of the exhibitor.

Presently, while Mr. P. is recklessly glorying in his crime, declaring that he is afraid of nothing, and laughing to scorn the Showman's admonition, the Ghost makes his appearance close to Mr. P.'s shoulder, and stands there for some time, listening unobserved to Punch's brag. After a while, however, turning round, Punch catches sight of him, and is rooted to the spot with horror for a few seconds; then he retreats backwards, his whole body trembling violently, till he reaches the side of the theatre; here he turns round slowly to hide his face from the awful apparition. When, by turning away, he loses sight of the Ghost for a few seconds, he recovers his voice so far as to say to the Showman in trembling tones: "W-h-h-a-a-t a hor-r-r-rid creature! What an awful creature!" Then he turns round very slowly to see whether the "horrid creature" is gone, but finding it still there, suddenly jumps back – jambs himself up in the corner – pokes his head out of the window, and screams, "Murder! murder! murder!" shaking all the time violently. This he repeats several times, till at last the Ghost disappears. Then Mr. P. recovers his courage and swaggers about as before, vowing he is afraid of nothing, etc., etc.

Now appears on the stage the Constable, who twists himself about in a pompous style for some seconds, and then addressing Mr. Punch, says:

Constable. "I've come to take you up!"

P. "And I've come to knock you down!" (which he accordingly does with his club).

The Constable gets up, and is again knocked down several times in succession. Not relishing this style of thing, however, he disappears and returns with a club, and a battle royal ensues, part of which – that is to say, one round of the battle – shows the skill of the Constable in dodging Mr. P.'s blows, and can be made immensely funny if properly performed. It is done in this way: The Constable stands perfectly still, and Punch takes deliberate aim; but when he strikes, the Constable bobs down quickly, and the blow passes harmlessly over his head. This is repeated frequently, the Constable every now and then retaliating on Mr. P.'s "nob" with effect. Not succeeding with the sabre-cut, Punch tries the straight or rapier thrust. He points the end of his baton straight at the Constable's nose, and after drawing back two or three times to be sure of his aim, makes a lunge; but the Constable is too quick, dodges on one side, and Punch's club passes innocently out of the window. This is repeated several times, till the Constable sails in and gives Punch a whack on the head, crying: "There's a topper!" Punch returns the compliment with the remark: "There's a whopper!" Now they have a regular rough and tumble, in which Punch is vanquished.

The Constable disappears and returns with the gallows, which he sticks up in a hole already made in the stage (four-inch board previously mentioned), and proceeds to prepare for the awful ceremony of hanging Mr. P. Punch, never having been hung before, cannot make out how the machine is intended to operate – at least he feigns profound ignorance on the subject. When the Constable tells him to put his head into the noose, he puts it in the wrong place over and over again, inquiring each time, "That way?" till at last the executioner, losing all patience, puts his own head in the loop, in order to show Mr. P. how to do it, saying: "There! that's the way! Now do you understand?" To which Punch responds, "Oh! that's the way, is it?" at the same time pulling the end of the rope tight, and holding on to it till the struggling functionary is dead, crying all the time: "Oh! that's the way, is it? Now I understand!"