Public-domain ebook
by Various
Language: en395 downloads on Project Gutenberg
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In: Punch·Humour·Plays/Films/Dramas
Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #14931.
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A MANUAL OF DENOUEMENTS.
"In the king's name, Let fall your swords and daggers."--CRITIC.
Denouements are of three kinds:--The natural, the unnatural, and the supernatural.
The "natural" is achieved when no probabilities are violated;--that is, when the circumstances are such as really might occur--if we could only bring ourselves to think so--as, (ex. gr.)
When the villain, being especially desirous to preserve and secrete certain documents of vital importance to himself and to the piece, does, most unaccountably, mislay them in the most conspicuous part of the stage, and straightway they are found by the very last member of the dram. pers. in whose hands he would like to see them.
When the villain and his accomplice, congratulating each other on the successful issue of their crimes, and dividing the spoil thereof (which they are always careful to do in a loud voice, and in a room full of closets), are suddenly set upon and secured by the innocent yet suspected and condemned parties, who are at that moment passing on their way to execution.
When the guiltless prisoner at the bar, being asked for his defence, and having no witnesses to call, produces a checked handkerchief, and subpoenas his own conscience, which has such an effect on the villain, that he swoons, and sees demons in the jury-box, and tells them that "he is ready," and that "he comes," &c. &c.
When the deserter, being just about to be shot, is miraculously saved by his mistress, who cuts the matter very fine indeed, by rushing in between "present" and "fire;" and, having ejaculated "a reprieve!" with all her might, falls down, overcome by fatigue--poor dear! as well she may--having run twenty-three miles in the changing of a scene, and carried her baby on her arm all the blessed way, in order to hold him up in the tableau at the end.
N.B.--Whenever married people rescue one another as above, the "_denouement_" belongs to the class "unnatural;" which is used when the author wishes to show the intensity of his invention--as, (ex. gr. again)
When an old man, having been wounded fatally by a young man, requests, as a boon, to be permitted to examine the young man's neck, who, accordingly unloosing his cravat, displays a hieroglyphic neatly engraved thereon, which the old man interprets into his being a parricide, and then dies, leaving the young man in a state of histrionic stupor.
When a will is found embellished with a Daguerreotype of four fingers and a thumb, done in blood on the cover, and it turns out that the residuary legatee is no better than he should be--but, on the contrary, a murderer nicely ripe for killing.
The "supernatural" denouement is the last resource of a bewildered dramatist, and introduces either an individual in green scales and wings to match, who gives the audience to understand that he is a fiend, and that he has private business to transact below with the villain; who, accordingly, withdraws in his company, with many throes and groans, down the trap.
Or a pale ghost in dingy lawn, apparently afflicted with a serious haemorrhage in the bosom, who appears to a great many people, running, in dreams; and at last joins the hands of the young couple, and puts in a little plea of her own for a private burial.
And there are many other variations of the three great classes of denouements; such as the helter-skelter nine-times-round-the-stage-combat, and the grand melee in which everybody kills everybody else, and leaves the piece to be carried on by their executors; but we dare unveil the mystery no further.
"Well," said Roebuck to O'Connell, "despite Peel's double-face propensities, he is a great genius." "A great Janus indeed," answered the liberathor.
The political pugilistic scrimmage which recently took place in the House of Congress so completely coincides with the views and propensities of the "universal scrimmage" member for Bath, that he intends making a motion for the erection of a twenty-four-foot-ring on the floor of the House, for the benefit of opposition members. The Speaker, says Roebuck, will, in that case, be enabled to ascertain whether the "noes" or "ayes" have it, without tellers.
If you are either in a great hurry, or tired of life, book yourself by the Brighton railroad, and you are ensured one of two things--arrival in two hours, or destruction by that rapid process known in America as "immortal smash," which brings you to the end of your journey before you get to the terminus. Should you fortunately meet with the former result, and finish your trip without ending your mortal career, you find the place beset with cads and omnibuses, which are very convenient; for if your hotel or boarding-house be at the extremity of the town, you would have to walk at least half a mile but for such vehicles, and they only charge sixpence, with the additional advantage of the great chance of your luggage being lost. If you be a married man, you will go to an hotel where you can get a bed for half-a-guinea a night, provided you do not want it warmed, and use your own soap; but it is five shillings extra if you do. Should you be a bachelor, or an old maid, you, of course, put up at a boarding-house, where you see a great deal of good society at two guineas a week; for every third man is a captain, and every fifth woman "my lady." There, too, you observe a continual round of courtship going on; for it comes in with the coffee, and continues during every meal. "Marriages," it is said, "are made in heaven"--good matches are always got up at meal-times in Brighton boarding-houses.
Brighton is decidedly a fishing-town, for besides the quantity of John Dorys caught there, it is a celebrated place for pursey half-pay officers to angle in for rich widows. The bait they generally use consists of dyed whiskers, and a distant relationship to some of the "gentles" or nobles of the land. The town itself is built upon _the downs_--a series of hills, which those in the habit of walking over them are apt to call "ups and downs." It consists entirely of hotels, boarding-houses, and bathing-machines, with a pavilion and a chain-pier. The amusements are various, and of a highly intellectual character: the chief of them being a walk from the esplanade to the east cliff, and a promenade back again from the east cliff to the esplanade. Donkey-races are in full vogue, insomuch that the highways are thronged with interesting animals, decorated with serge-trappings and safety-saddles, and interspersed with goat-carts and hired flys. There is a library, where the visiters do everything but read; and a theatre, where--as Charles Kean is now playing there--they do anything but act. The ladies seem to take great delight in the sea-bath, and that they may enjoy the luxury in the most secluded privacy, the machines are placed as near to the pier as possible. This is always crowded with men, who, by the aid of opera glasses, find it a pleasing pastime to watch the movements of the delicate Naiads who crowd the waters.
Those to whom Brighton is recommended for change of air and of scene get sadly taken in, for here the air--like that of a barrel-organ--never changes, as the wind is always high. In sunshine, Brighton always looks hot; in moonshine, eternally dreary; the men are yawning all day long, and the women sitting smirking in bay-windows, or walking with puppy-dogs and parasols, which last they are continually opening and shutting. In short, when a man is sick of the world, or a maiden of forty-five has been so often crossed in love as to be obliged to leave off hoping against hope, Brighton is an excellent place to prepare him or her for a final retirement from life--whether that is contemplated in the Queen's Bench, a convent, a residence among the Welsh mountains, or the monastery of La Trappe, a month's probation in Brighton, at the height of the season, being well calculated to make any such change not only endurable, but agreeable.
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