Several times during the piece I was much affected--when he wound his arms round his wife, stuck his head over her shoulder, and kissed the back of her neck--when he made a grand exit, with three stamps, a hop, a run, and two long straddles--when he talked grand about the thunder, shook his fist at the man in the flies--when he killed the soldiers in the council room, shouted for them to "come one and all," and then ran away for fear they would--when he swore at the man who did not give him his cue--when he knelt down and said grace over his dead boy, and then got up and stuck his wife with the butcher-knife; but at no part of the whole piece was I so impressed with his pathetic power, his transcendent genius, as when he laid his hand solemnly on his stomach, and said "What a bore O, cannot lie!" (Damphool asked, in a whisper, if Oth.e.l.lo"s occupation was gone).
And at the death scene, when he was shot, I was again touched to the heart; first he wabbled about like a top-heavy liberty pole in a high wind; then he stuck out one leg, and wiggled it, after the manner of a galvanic bull-frog; then sat down on the floor, opened his eyes and looked around; then grappled an Indian on one side, clutched a soldier on the other, struggled to his feet, staggered about like a drunken Dutchman, made a rush forwards, then a leap sideways, stiffened out like a frozen pig, collapsed like a wet dish-cloth, exerted himself till his face was the color of an underdone beefsteak, then sank back into the arms of the Indians, whispered to let him down easy, rolled up the whites of his eyes, settled himself to die--concluded to have a parting curse at the surrounding people, took a long swear, laid down, and with a noise in his throat like castanets, a couple of vigorous kicks and a feeble groan, gave up the ghost.
Bull Dogge a.s.serted that he would resuscitate, brush the dust off his legs (take some gin and sugar, and come out and make a speech), all of which he did; the butcher boys in the gallery (Damphool says h.e.l.litisplit commenced life as a respectable butcher-boy, but has degenerated into the man he is,) gave three cheers, h.e.l.litisplit opened his mouth four times, shut it thrice (he went off with it wide open), and backed off with a grace which we may suppose would be exhibited by a mudturtle on the tight-rope.
Damphool was in ecstacies--Bull Dogge asked me how I liked the "great American," &c. I replied that I knew not which most to admire, his euphonious voice, or his tremendous straddle, but that (notwithstanding the late appropriation of the name by a rival show-shop), I was ready to maintain with the butcher boys that there was but one Metropolitan Theatre, and h.e.l.litisplit is its profit.
XIX.
"Side Shows" of the City.
We are all aware that Chatham Street and the Bowery are the legitimate abiding places of those benevolent Hebrews, whose zeal for the public welfare, and pity for ragged humanity, lead them to continually offer their valuable and undoubtedly durable articles of wearing apparel to the needy public "below cost;" and the enviable philosophy with which they bear the "alarming sacrifices" which must daily deplete their ample fortunes, has often been the subject of wondering remark.
The question, what becomes of these philanthropic tradesmen after their ultimate impoverishment, which of course must speedily supervene, is a fruitful subject for the investigation of some inquisitive mind. The charitable supposition is, that as soon as their pecuniary ruin is effectually accomplished, they retire to the shades of private life, happy in the consciousness of having done their little utmost to benefit the human race; seeing in each well dressed man, a perambulating monument of their beneficence, and in each ragged urchin, cause of regret that their altered circ.u.mstances cannot afford him a better pair of breeches.
But these Israelitish avenues before mentioned, are not only the headquarters of these philanthropic gentlemen, but are the depot for many other imitations of humanity, and curious specimens of human skill unknown to the un.o.bserving.
Here abound those impa.s.sive wooden Indians of some tribe extinct, save in these civilized localities, who stand in the doors of seven by nine tobacco-factories, offering in persevering silence perpetual bunches of ba.s.swood cigars to the pa.s.ser-by.
Here are plentifully sprinkled mult.i.tudes of three-cornered shops where patient and eager women, so sharp and shrewd at a bargain, that he who buys must have all his wits about him, offer for sale the most incongruous a.s.sortment of second-hand property; from a last year"s newspaper to a complete library, from a pint-cup to a seventy ton yacht, from a bra.s.s night-key to a steam-engine.
Here too, almost every other doorway is ornamented with daguerreotypes of distinguished personages--negro-dancers duly equipped with banjo, tamborine and clappers--militia officers rigged out in all the glory of feathers and tinsel--supreme rulers of Know-Nothing Lodges, resplendent in the full regalia of that astute and sapient order--and whole dozens of pictures of the beauteous model artists who exercise their modest calling in that vicinage; whose names are fanciful enough, but whose physical embellishments are not always the ones commonly attributed to the mythical characters they represent.
"Kitty Clover" with splay-feet and dirty silk tights as "Venus Rising from the Sea," "Lilly Dale" cross-eyed and knock-kneed, as the "Greek Slave"--"Kate Kearney," with eyes rolled up, mock-pearls in her hair, in an att.i.tude which must be exceedingly trying, as "Morning Prayer," or a trio of clumsy squaw-like damsels with smirking faces and stumpy limbs, as the "Three Graces."
Not only are all these works of art exhibited gratis by the public-spirited habiters of Chatham Street and the Bowery, but they have an infinity of other exhibitions, which cannot be cla.s.sified as either gratuitous, theatrical or amphitheatrical, to see which a fee is demanded, moderate but peremptory, trifling but inevitable.
These consist princ.i.p.ally of ferocious beasts captured by heroic men, and brought from their native fastnesses to astonish the city people--of deformed and monstrous beings which should be human, but whom nature has sent into the world dest.i.tute of arms or legs, or vital organs, the lack of which makes these curtailed individuals objects of wonder, of mystery, and of three-cent speculation--and of various animals, human and otherwise, trained to perform unheard of feats of strength, agility, or juggling sleight.
The whereabouts of these interesting prodigies is made known by huge paintings on n.o.body-knows-how-many square yards of canva.s.s; and generally by a decrepit hurdy-gurdy played in a masterly manner by the enterprising proprietor, who occasionally varies his performance by reciting at the top of his voice the leading attractions of his exhibitions, and extending to the bystanders a general invitation to walk in, and get their money"s worth.
Reader, whose dainty musical and dramatic tastes, our theatrical and operatic managers fail to gratify; who have laughed your fill at Burton, and at Forrester; who have tired of Vestvali, Steffanone, D"Ormy, and the rest; who have grown sick of Badiali, impatient of Brignoli, and tired of both; who have ceased to interest yourself in the "Happy Family" either at the Academy of Music or at Barnam"s; whose sickened ear is fatigued with the burnt-cork lyrics of Christy, Buckley, and their sooty accomplices in questionable harmonies; you, who know every inch in the circle of fashionable amus.e.m.e.nt, and long for some novelty to break the monotony of the tedious track; pray discard the Shanghae coat, don a more sensible and less noticeable garb, step from the Broadway sphere to the Bowery precincts, and there look upon wonders. .h.i.therto unknown, and which will heartily astonish your bewildered optics.
Let us begin with the Anacondas, and the "only living Rhinoceros;" let me speak, and you hold your breath, and marvel.
Pause ere you enter the apartment containing these prodigies of Natural History--these dread-inspiring denizens of the mighty rivers and impenetrable mora.s.ses of the tropics, examine carefully the gorgeous painting which decks the outside of the building. How majestic in design! how masterly in the execution! Criticism is silent, and we can only speak to commend.
Observe the brilliancy of the coloring; the vivid red and yellow spots upon the serpents, which wind their powerful folds about that n.o.ble charger--(you thought it was a windmill? No, Sir! I have inspected it carefully, and I am positive it is intended for a horse.)
See with what an air of stolid placidity, and sleepy complacency, his rider, the gallant Indian Chief (you took him for the "Fat Boy"?--the mistake is perhaps excusable, but it is _not_ the "Fat Boy,") draws his arrow to the head to pierce the slimy monster; (arrow? you imagined it a fish pole? wrong, my friend, palpably wrong, the instrument may suggest fish-pole, but it is undoubtedly meant for arrow;) whose tail, the artist, with a n.o.ble disregard of the principles of perspective which stamps him as an original genius, has caused to rest upon a mountain twenty miles in the distance.
Notice how the other monstrous reptile has twined himself in the branches of the palm-tree--(it looks like a hickory-broom. No, sir! "it is no such thing"--it is most emphatically a tree--) and with his fiery tongue thrust from his gaping jaws, (of course it"s a tongue, and you need not a.s.sert that it resembles a barber"s pole with the end split up, for it doesn"t,) is about to make a frightful descent upon the other steed. (_Another_ horse? Yes, sir! another horse, although you a.s.sert it to be meant for a cider barrel on a three-legged stool.)
Admire the elegant yet terrible proportions of the mighty Rhinoceros, as he stalks majestically through the tall jungle-gra.s.s (you thought that was a terrier dog looking for rats in a barn-yard, did you? Well, my friend, the resemblance certainly is striking, but do not disparage the artist, who is undoubtedly much more familiar with terrier dogs than with the other brutes, and don"t find fault with the Rhinoceros because he isn"t bigger than a dog, for you perceive that if he had been represented the proper size he would have covered up the snakes, hidden the Indian from our sight, and rendered the landscape invisible.)
We pay our money and go inside. What, though, upon seeking the realization of this promise of novelty, instead of the living rhinoceros we see only the dried and shrivelled skin of what was probably once a hog? and the ferocious reptiles of fabulous size shrink into a couple of exaggerated angleworms?
Let us not find fault with the showman who is only carrying on a popular business on too small a scale to be honest. He should increase his stock of curious swindles, tell bigger stories and more of them, humbug a hundred people where now he swindles one, and so make his business honest and respectable.
Our attention is next claimed by the man without any arms, who is advertised to possess tremendous strength, and can do more things with his feet than most people can with their hands; who can draw, paint, load a gun, play the piano, violin, and accordeon, cut likenesses, put on a clean collar, shave himself, tell fortunes, set type, and saw wood.
Do not grumble if, instead of an admirable Crichton, whose accomplishments are to provoke your envy, you see only a miserable cripple, necessitated by poverty and inability to work, to make an exhibition of his deformity, and the poor devices to which he is driven, to supply, in some slight degree, the absence of his limbs.
Don"t forget to see the "Living Skeleton," who has seen two score years, only weighs twenty ounces, and is so thin that when he is undressed he is invisible to the naked eye.
Visit also the dancing bears, the performing dogs, the wax figures, the mineralogical, geological, and conchological collections; see the female minstrels; the alligators, who have devoured in their native country an army of men, a mult.i.tude of women, and a myriad of n.i.g.g.e.r pickaninnies; see the magician who turns chickens into mugs of ale, and trans.m.u.tes iron soup kettles into purest gold; the girl who dances a hornpipe on a drum-head, amongst a dozen eggs and never breaks any; the man who swallows a sword for his dinner, and lunches daily on jack-knives and gimlets; the boy who can tie his legs in a bow-knot on the back of his neck.
Go to see the individual who balances a ladder on the end of his nose, and his canine friend, who courageously ascends to the top thereof, and barks defiance to the world,--the juggler who tosses the b.a.l.l.s and butcher knives,--the Chinaman who throws flip flaps by the dozen, and makes a human cart-wheel of himself in the air, between heaven and earth, like Mahomet"s coffin;--the learned Canary-birds which draw water, fire off guns, ring bells, and cut up all sorts of unnatural antics to earn their daily cuttlefish bone and loaf sugar; take a regular round of Bowery three cent amus.e.m.e.nts, glut your taste for novelty, take the edge off your curiosity, laugh at the bombastic humbugs enough to last you for a month; and then when the conglomeration of unaccustomed sights and sounds has tired out your aristocratic senses, go back to the Fifth Avenue world again, convinced that all the fun of the city is not located in Broadway or Chambers Street, or all the humbug concentrated between the City Hall Square and Maiden Lane.
XX.
New Year"s Day in New York.
The last New Year"s day previous to the one herein spoken of, was pa.s.sed by the subscriber on board a Mississippi steamboat--said boat being fast aground on a sand-bar--provisions all gone--the captain, steward, and one of the bar-keepers being occupied playing "poker" with the pa.s.sengers at one end of the boat, while the more piously disposed were listening to the drawling tones of a nautical preacher, who was discoursing second-hand sanctimony at the other--crew all on a "bender"
in the engine room, firemen all drunk on the boiler deck, and every body generally enjoying themselves.
Made no calls, myself, except at the bar, where I wished myself so many happy New Years, and so many compliments of the season, that I slept that night on a pile of cotton-wood, and when I attained my state-room, next day, I found each berth occupied by a colored fireman, both with their boots on; one with my Sunday coat under his head for a pillow, his hair decorated with sundry lumps of stone-coal, and his red flannel shirt ornamented with the contents of a tar-bucket, and the carpenter"s glue-pot.
Since that eventful time, I have become a sojourner in town, and on the approach of New Year"s, had felicitated myself on the prospect of seeing how New Yorkers celebrate this universal holiday.
Intended to call on my friends, and hoped, as the number of my feminine acquaintances in this immediate vicinity is small, to get through in time to spend the afternoon at my new boarding-house, where Mrs. Griggs, my landlady, and her two daughters were to receive calls, and who had invited me to be present and see "the elephant" as far as the proceedings of the day should disclose to an unsophisticated eye, his mighty and magnificent proportions.
Early in the morning, dyed my incipient but dilatory moustache into visibility, dressed myself as fashionably as the resources of my limited wardrobe would permit, and, attended by my fast friend Sandie, started on my journey, intending to "fetch up" eventually at my boarding-house, "stopping at all the intermediate posts by the way."
A word about my friend Sandie. I have become much attached to him, from his strong resemblance in habits to the "fat boy" of the Pickwick papers.
_He sleeps every where._
In the omnibus, on the ferry-boat, in the store, at the Post-Office, in church, at the theatre, and even while walking along Broadway.
I have known him stop twenty-one stages in the course of an afternoon"s walk by nodding at the drivers while he was enjoying a peripatetic nap.
The first time I saw him I was the humble instrument of preserving his valuable existence. He had started to go to the Post-Office to mail an important letter, but had fallen asleep in Na.s.sau street, and the bill-stickers had nearly overlaid him with show-bills, announcing that at the Bowery Theatre would be played the drama of the "Seven Sleepers,"
to be followed by the song "We"re all a Nodding," the whole to conclude with the farce "Rip Van Winkle."
In fact, he sleeps every where, except at table.
Open his sleepy eyes to the prospect of something good to eat, and his wakefulness will be insured until the uttermost morsel is entombed in those regions of unknown capacity to which he diurnally sends such astonishing quant.i.ties of provisions.
His internal dimensions have long been a favorite theme of speculation to his friends, but, alas! the problem must ever set at defiance all the ordinary rules of mensuration.