Punchinello, Volume 1, No. 23, September 3, 1870

In Short

This weekly publication serves as a satirical mirror to late nineteenth-century American life, blending fictional narratives with commentary on current events. Through recurring columns, mock interviews, and parody, it lampoons everything from high-minded religious institutions and political hypocrisy to the sensationalist tone of the era’s "Great Dailies." By mixing absurdity—like a ritualistic organist’s obsession with a missing umbrella—with sharp observations on social trends, the publication provides a vivid, often cynical snapshot of 1870s culture that remains both historically revealing and darkly humorous.

The Story

The narrative arc of this specific issue revolves around an ongoing serial parody, "The Mystery of Mr. E. Drood," which frames the broader tone of the publication. The story begins in a state of comic disarray: J. Bumstead, an organist, is found in such a deep sleep that his landlords must resort to singeing his whiskers to rouse him. His primary motivation is the recovery of a lost umbrella, which he irrationally connects to the disappearance of his nephew, Edwin Drood. The lawyer Mr. Dibble attempts to steer the investigation toward a more serious inquiry, but the conversation constantly dissolves into nonsense. The absurdity reaches a climax when a clergyman, Gospeler Simpson, discovers Drood’s watch and seal-ring near a pauper burial ground. Fearful of being accused of a crime, Simpson hastily reports the find, leading to the arrest of his pupil, Montgomery Pendragon.

The legal fallout provides a commentary on the era’s media. The judge, overwhelmed by sensationalist newspaper reports claiming various young men have been killed in disparate parts of the country, is forced to release Pendragon due to his "indistinguishable identity." Once freed, the youth is harassed by reporters eager to extract a confession for their next edition. The spiritual dimension of the story follows when the ritualistic Rector of "St. Cow’s" refuses to shelter the accused sinner, leading the Gospeler to conclude that true sanctuary must lie in the "Other Church"—a metaphorical space of radical empathy and the "Church of the Pooritans."

The surrounding content mirrors this arc of suspicion and absurdity. A contributor visits the Oneida Community, mocking their "complex" marriage practices and the absurdity of their communal child-rearing. Another section details a disastrous fishing trip to the Adirondacks, where the author, Mr. Punchinello, finds only misery, insects, and mockery from his host, Mr. Murray. The issue concludes with a series of vignettes that highlight the era’s peculiar anxieties: the health risks of breathing iron filings in factories, the rising price of milk, and the moral panic surrounding children who dare to sing popular songs. The publication functions as a chaotic, interconnected web where the line between a serious news item and a ridiculous hoax is intentionally blurred to disorient the reader.

How It Unfolds

The awakening of J. Bumstead The issue opens with the comical, heavy-handed efforts of Mr. and Mrs. Smythe to wake their tenant, who is deep in a stupor. This scene immediately establishes the tone: a mix of physical slapstick and the mounting, irrational mystery regarding a lost umbrella.

The legal investigation Mr. Dibble’s inquiry into the disappearance of Edwin Drood is constantly derailed by the organist’s obsession with his missing canopy. This segment highlights the friction between the lawyer’s desire for logic and the pervasive, nonsensical nature of the suspects.

The discovery at the burial ground Gospeler Simpson happens upon the victim's personal effects, causing a panic that leads to the arrest of his student. The ensuing court proceedings serve as a biting critique of the sensationalist press, which confuses the judge and turns a tragedy into a media circus.

The search for spiritual sanctuary The narrative shifts from the courtroom to the church, where the rejection of the sinner prompts a philosophical reflection on what constitutes a true, unselfish community. This provides a brief, resonant moment of sincerity amidst the surrounding satire.

The commentary on societal fads The latter half of the issue pivots to travelogues and interviews, including a visit to a free-love commune and a disastrous excursion to the Adirondacks. These segments explore the era’s fascination with communal living and the performative nature of outdoor adventure.

The People

J. Bumstead, the central figure of the parody, is a ritualistic organist driven by two singular, trivial passions: his missing umbrella and a desire to clear his name of suspicion. He is remarkably detached from the reality of his nephew’s disappearance, prioritizing his personal comforts and his own irrational logic over justice. Mr. Dibble acts as the frustrated voice of reason, though he is ultimately rendered impotent by the chaos surrounding him. Gospeler Simpson is a man defined by his own cowardice; he is terrified of being implicated in a crime and acts only to protect his reputation, yet he possesses enough residual conscience to contemplate a church that values the "unfortunate" over the wealthy. Montgomery Pendragon, the pupil, is a passive victim of the legal system and the press, suffering for a crime he likely did not commit while being hounded by those looking for a story. Finally, the persona of "Punchinello"—the narrator and observer—acts as a cynical, witty guide. He is a man of the world who sees through the "eighteen-carat frauds" of his time, from village nabobs to commune leaders, and uses his dry wit to expose the pretensions of everyone he encounters.

In Its Own Voice

"When I have to go anywhere, I make it a rule to go at once:--similarly, when going to sleep."

This is the organist's absurd explanation for his sudden, deep slumber that keeps his companions waiting.

"The Altar is any humble spot pressed by the knees of the Unfortunate."

The Gospeler describes his vision of an ideal church that exists outside of the rigid, materialist institutions of his day.

"I'll trust him out of sight if I can keep one eye on him."

The narrator offers this wry assessment of a serial hoaxer he considers a menace to public discourse.

What It's Really About

The central theme is the decay of truth in a society increasingly driven by sensationalism and performance. The publication argues that the "Great Dailies" have rendered the public unable to distinguish between genuine tragedy and grotesque entertainment. By interspersing stories of murder and poverty with advertisements for "Noon-day Bitters" and "Carbolic Salve," the book forces a confrontation with the commodification of human suffering. It asks whether religious or social institutions can truly provide sanctuary when they are more concerned with their own growth and image than with the "unfortunate." Ultimately, it is a critique of the "hateful prejudices" of an unprogressive world, suggesting that true meaning is found only when one stops performing for the public and begins to act with unselfish charity.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the dry, layered irony of nineteenth-century humorists will find this a fascinating exercise in tone. It is a demanding read, characterized by dense, ornate prose, frequent references to now-forgotten political figures, and an archaic style of satire that expects the reader to keep up with its rapid shifts between high-minded philosophy and low-brow puns. The racial and gender attitudes of the 1870s are presented without filter, which may be jarring for modern sensibilities, as is the casual, often cruel way the text handles matters of death and mental health.

However, anyone interested in the history of the American press or the origins of modern cynical humor will find it rewarding. The cadence of the writing—alternating between the mock-solemnity of the "Mystery" and the brisk, sharp observations of the "Portfolio"—is highly rhythmic and immersive. It feels like stepping into a crowded, smoke-filled room of a New York club in 1870, where every bit of news is treated as a potential joke and every public figure is a target for mockery. It leaves the reader with a lingering sense of how little the frantic, competitive nature of media has changed in a century and a half.