[MARCH 23, 1861.
EAST SIDE THEATRICALS.
THE Broadway houses
the public immense quantities of Cen-
and J. Cade.
I suppose the
ch i efly because it has
and so I mean
when I state
that to me
the thing became, rather
A man may
veal for several years,
consisting exclusively of stewed veal would become uninteresting after a century
or so. A man would want something else. The least particular
man, it seems to me, would desire to have his veal "biled," by
way of a change. So I, tired of the thread-bare pieces at the
Broadway houses, went to the East Side for something fresh. I
wanted to see some libertines and brigands. I wanted to see sonie
cheerful persons identified with the blacksmith and sewing-machine
interests triumph over those libertines and brigands, in the most
signal manner. I wanted, in short, to see the Downfall of Vice and
Triumph of Virtue. That was what ailed me; And so I went to
the East Side.
Poor Jack Scott is gone, and Jo. Kirby dies no more on the
East Side. They've got the blood and things over there, but alas!
they're deficient in lungs. The tragedians in the Bowery and
Chatham street of to-day dont start the shingles on the roof as
their predecessors, now cold and stiff in death, used to when they
threw themselves upon their knees at the footlights and roared a
redhot curSe after the lord who had carried Susan away, swearing
to never more eat nor drink until the lord's vile heart was torn
from his body and ther-rown to the dorgs—rattling their knives
against the tin lamps and glaring upon the third tier most fearfully the while.
Glancing at the spot where it is said Senator "Benjamin used to vend
second-hand clothes, and regretting that he had not continued in
that comparatively honorable vocation instead of sinking to his
present position :—wondering if Jo. Kirby would ever consent, if
he were alive, to die wrapped up in a Secession flag :—gazing admiringly upon the unostentatious sign-board which is suspended
in front of the Hon. Izzy Lazarus's tavern ;—glancing, wondering
and gazing thus, I enter the Old Chatham theatre. The pit is full,
but people fight shy of the boxes.
The play is about a servant-girl, who comes to the metropolis
from the agricultural districts, in short skirts, speckled hose, and
a dashing little white hat, gaily decked with pretty pink ribbons—
that being the style of dress invariably worn by servant-girls from
the interior. She is accompanied by a chaste young man in a
short-tailed red coat, who, being very desirous of protecting her
from the temptations of a large city, naturally leaves her in the
street and goes off somewhere. Servant-girl encounters an elderly
female, who seems to be a very nice sort of person indeed, but the
young man in a short-tailed coat comes in and thrusts the elderly
female aside, calling her " a vile hag." This pleases the pit, which
is ever true to viftue, and it accordingly cries 4< Hi ! hi! hi!"
A robber appears. The idea of a robber in times like these, is
rather absurd. The adroit robber would eke out a miserable subsistence if he attempted to follow his profession now-a-days. I
should prefer to publish a daily paper in Utica. Nevertheless,
here is a robber. He has been playing poker with his " dupe,"
but singularly enough the dupe has won all the money. This
displeases the robber, and it occurs to him that he will kill his
dupe. He accordingly sticks him. The dupe staggers, falls, says
" Dearest Eliza !" and dies. Cries of " hi! hi!" in the pit, while
a gentleman with a weed on his bat, in the boxes, states that the
price of green smelts is five cents a quart. His announcement is
not favorably received by the pit, several members of which come
back at the weeded individual with some advice in regard to liquidating a long-standing account for beans and other refreshments at
an adjacent restaurant.
The robber is seized with remorse, and says the money which he
has taken from the dupe's pockets, "scorches" him. Robber
seeks refuge in a miser's drawing-room, where he stays for " seven
days." There is a long chest, full of money and diamonds in the
room. The chest is unlocked, but misers very frequently go off
and leave long chests full of money unlocked in their drawing-
rooms, for seven days ; and this robber was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of this particular miser's.absence. By-
and-bye the miser returns, when the robber quietly kills him and
chucks him in the chest. " Sleep with your gold old man !" says
the bold robber, as he melodramatically retreats—retreats to a
cellar, where the servant girl resides. Finds that she was formerly
his gal, when he resided in the rural districts, and regrets having
killed so many persons, for if so be he hadn't, he might marry
her and settle down, whereas now he can't do it, as he says he is
" unhappy." But he gives her a ring—a ring he had stolen from
the dupe—and flies. Presently the, dupe, who has come to life in
a singular but eminently theatrical manner, is brought into the
cellar. He discovers the ring upon the servant girl's finger—servant girl states that she is innocent, and the dupe, with the remark that he sees his mother, dies, this time positively without
reserve. Servant girl is taken to Newgate, whither goes the robber and gains admission by informing the turnkey that he is her
uncle. Throws off his disguise, and like a robber bold and gay,
says he is the guilty party and will save the servant girl. He
drinks a vial of poison, says he sees his mother, and dies to slow
fiddling. Servant girl throws herself upon him wildly, and the
virtuous young party in a short-tailed coat comes in and assists in
the tableau. Robber tells servant girl to take the party in the
short-tailed coat and be happy—repeats that he sees his mother
(they always do) and dies again. Cries of ''Hi! hi! hi!" and
the weeded gentleman reiterates the price of green smelts.
Not a remarkably heavy plot, but quite as bulky as the plots of
the Broadway sensation pieces.
Alphonso the Brave.
Boston, March 9, 1861.
" Dear V. F.~-
Is the following worthy of your incomparable Journal ?
CONSOLING FOR S. C.
Although Sumter has so weak a garrison, it is undeniable that Pickens has a
A Provincial admirer of V. F. will be made happy by the insertion of the above, if it reaches your high standard."
It don't reach our high standard^nOthing near it—but if Vanity Fair can make one human being—and, above all, one Boston-
ian—positively happy, by his own confession, in times like these—
why let it go. Set it up—by all means! Well-a-wav, on how
little does earthly happiness depend. One man sees only a certain
sack of muslin, full of budding, palpitating beauty, between him
and endless bliss—Messrs. Greeley, Weed, Raymond, and the rest,
think it lies in getting the Inside Track—our particular friend,
Miss Josephine Hoops, believes it is attainable with that stupendous opal and diamond brooch for sale at Tiffany's—and lo! here is
a mortal who will be supremely blest if he can only see one little
sorrowful nibble at a pun served up in these immortal pages.
Set it, up by all means ! ■ The Sunday papers have done it some
sixty-four times, and we shall mortally offend the Septnagint of
gentlemen who have sent it in to the Incomparable (that's Us, you
know,) in all manner of shapes—boiled, fried and stewed. But
no matter. You only knock out an I and put an E-—-Oh be happy,
Provincial Admirer, and hold on to it, and in your prayers remember Vanity Fair !
Agreeable element in Landscape—Water-fall.
Disagreeable ditto in Senate—Wig-fall.
This is what our German calls Art und Chart, or a Nicety and a
Treason of the Darkest-Hair-Dye.