Take from an old comedy its
oaths and its grossness, and nothing is left but a residuum of
boisterous inanity. The condensed old comedy which has just been laid
before the readers of PUNCHINELLO, is as inane and vapid as anything
that WALLACK'S theatre has shown us in the past month. Do you find it
dull? For my part, I don't hesitate to say that the "Essence of Old
Virginny," as furnished by the venerable poet, Mr. DANIEL BRYANT, is
vastly more amusing than the Essence of Old Comedy.
All of which I say, in my most impressive manner, to MARGARET as we
struggle through the crowded lobby. But she irreverently disputes my
assertions, and asks, "How is it that everybody admires these comedies
if they are so wretched as you say they are? Is your judgment better
than that of anybody else?"
There being nothing to say, if I mean to maintain my ground, except that
my judgment is the only infallible critical judgment in this city or
elsewhere, I promptly and unblushingly say so. But MARGARET tells me I
am "a goose"--(I think I have mentioned that she is my aunt, and hence
allows herself these pleasing freedoms of speech)--and says that I shall
take her to see the old comedies every night, until I am willing to say
that I like them.
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