Dickens, Charles – The Uncommercial Traveller

that I think the local audience were much confused about the plot

of the piece under representation, and to the last expected that

everybody must turn out to be the long-lost relative of everybody

else. The Theatre was established on the top story of the Hotel de

Ville, and was approached by a long bare staircase, whereon, in an

airy situation, one of the P. Salcy Family – a stout gentleman

imperfectly repressed by a belt – took the money. This occasioned

the greatest excitement of the evening; for, no sooner did the

curtain rise on the introductory Vaudeville, and reveal in the

person of the young lover (singing a very short song with his

eyebrows) apparently the very same identical stout gentleman

imperfectly repressed by a belt, than everybody rushed out to the

paying-place, to ascertain whether he could possibly have put on

that dress-coat, that clear complexion, and those arched black

vocal eyebrows, in so short a space of time. It then became

manifest that this was another stout gentleman imperfectly

repressed by a belt: to whom, before the spectators had recovered

their presence of mind, entered a third stout gentleman imperfectly

repressed by a belt, exactly like him. These two ‘subjects,’

making with the money-taker three of the announced fifteen, fell

into conversation touching a charming young widow: who, presently

appearing, proved to be a stout lady altogether irrepressible by

any means – quite a parallel case to the American Negro – fourth of

the fifteen subjects, and sister of the fifth who presided over the

check-department. In good time the whole of the fifteen subjects

were dramatically presented, and we had the inevitable Ma Mere, Ma

Mere! and also the inevitable malediction d’un pere, and likewise

the inevitable Marquis, and also the inevitable provincial young

man, weak-minded but faithful, who followed Julie to Paris, and

cried and laughed and choked all at once. The story was wrought

out with the help of a virtuous spinning-wheel in the beginning, a

vicious set of diamonds in the middle, and a rheumatic blessing

(which arrived by post) from Ma Mere towards the end; the whole

resulting in a small sword in the body of one of the stout

gentlemen imperfectly repressed by a belt, fifty thousand francs

per annum and a decoration to the other stout gentleman imperfectly

repressed by a belt, and an assurance from everybody to the

provincial young man that if he were not supremely happy – which he

seemed to have no reason whatever for being – he ought to be. This

afforded him a final opportunity of crying and laughing and choking

all at once, and sent the audience home sentimentally delighted.

Audience more attentive or better behaved there could not possibly

be, though the places of second rank in the Theatre of the Family

P. Salcy were sixpence each in English money, and the places of

first rank a shilling. How the fifteen subjects ever got so fat

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Dickens, Charles – The Uncommercial Traveller

upon it, the kind Heavens know.

What gorgeous china figures of knights and ladies, gilded till they

gleamed again, I might have bought at the Fair for the garniture of

my home, if I had been a French-Flemish peasant, and had had the

money! What shining coffee-cups and saucers I might have won at

the turntables, if I had had the luck! Ravishing perfumery also,

and sweetmeats, I might have speculated in, or I might have fired

for prizes at a multitude of little dolls in niches, and might have

hit the doll of dolls, and won francs and fame. Or, being a

French-Flemish youth, I might have been drawn in a hand-cart by my

compeers, to tilt for municipal rewards at the water-quintain;

which, unless I sent my lance clean through the ring, emptied a

full bucket over me; to fend off which, the competitors wore

grotesque old scarecrow hats. Or, being French-Flemish man or

woman, boy or girl, I might have circled all night on my hobbyhorse

in a stately cavalcade of hobby-horses four abreast,

interspersed with triumphal cars, going round and round and round

and round, we the goodly company singing a ceaseless chorus to the

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