Punchinello, Volume 2, No. 27, October 1, 1870

In Short

This installment of an American humor magazine delivers a lively cross-section of 1870 satirical culture. Blending serialized parody, fictional commentary on current affairs, absurd poetry, and theatrical reviews, the issue skewers everything from international politics and literary tropes to local travel mishaps and city theater. It relies on wordplay, exaggerated accents, and topical references to entertain a Post-Civil War public. Operating as a self-aware variety entertainment, it has survived as an illuminating time capsule of Gilded Age American satire, vernacular humor, and early commercial publishing tactics.

The Story

The issue opens with an assertive editorial preface marking the start of a second volume. Framed in mock-heroic terms, the publication celebrates surviving past critical attacks and promises an intensified campaign against corruption, quackery, and social humbug. It imagines its audience as a eager crowd pressing forward to trade four-dollar subscription bills for its inexhaustible supply of satire.

Following this grand entrance, the text transitions into serial parody with a chapter of The Mystery of Mr. E. Drood. Flora Potts, distressed by the prospect of a General European War and the unwanted romantic attentions of her missing suitor's uncle, Mr. Bumstead, flees to New York. Driven by bizarre personal logic, she suspects Bumstead of murdering Edwin Drood with a table carving knife after an argument over an umbrella. Upon reaching the city via a wildly erratic hack ride, she seeks out her guardian, Mr. Dibble, whom she finds asleep over a magazine in his office. After hearing her story, Dibble agrees to shield her from Bumstead, places her safely at French's Hotel, and makes a brief stop at the hotel bar before returning home to Gowanus.

From this narrative centerpiece, the issue branches into topical satire, theater critique, and observational humor. A theatrical review dissects Augustin Daly's production of Man and Wife at the Fifth Avenue Theatre, mocking its melodramatic plot points, athletic staging, and the unyielding volume of the house orchestra. Turn-of-the-decade geopolitics receive a similar treatment: a satirical letter supposedly written by deposed French emperor Napoleon III muses on going into exile in New Jersey, while a mock war correspondent cables an absurd, rambling dispatch detailing a card game with Prussian military leaders at the Battle of Sedan. Rural commentator Hiram Green contributes a phonetic, dialect-heavy letter addressing King William of Prussia as an "able-bodied Loonatic," reflecting on political influence, legal sanity, and the plight of the defeated French leader.

Everyday absurdities round out the issue. A playful, rhyming poem titled "The Lovers" constructs a comical narrative out of intentionally corrupted verb tenses. A traveler named Saginaw Dodd recounts a journey across Lake George, poking fun at tough hotel spring chickens, odd local place names, and romanticized Revolutionary figures like "Marked Back" Rogers. The issue closes with short drolleries on Boston's local pride, female justices of the peace, and current publishing releases, maintaining its irreverent, variety-show pace right up to its concluding commercial notices.

How It Unfolds

The showman takes the stage An energetic editorial preface celebrates the magazine's ongoing survival and promises to shower readers with satire while demolishing quacks, corrupt politicians, and social humbugs.

The Flowerpot takes flight Flora Potts panics over the threat of European war and her suitor's overbearing uncle, convincing herself that Mr. Bumstead murdered his nephew after an argument over an umbrella.

A rough ride to Gowanus Flora travels into New York City in a chaotic hackney carriage and wakes her slumbering guardian, Mr. Dibble, who stashes her safely in a hotel before heading to the bar.

Skewer at the Fifth Avenue A theatrical column lampoons Manager Daly’s production of Man and Wife, ridiculing its absurdly dramatic plot, prize-fighting physical comedy, and an unceasing orchestra.

Royal dispatches and rural wisdom Satirical commentary takes aim at international affairs through a fake letter from Napoleon III dreaming of a New Jersey exile and a dialect letter from Hiram Green dissecting Prussian victories.

Yankee travels and lingering tales Traveler Saginaw Dodd offers a sarcastic log of a Lake George boat trip, mocking tough hotel food, regional history, and historical myths before breaking off his narrative mid-story.

The People

• Punchinello: The personified showman and mascot of the periodical. He wants to entertain a broad audience, defeat his critical detractors, and expose social and political quackery through sharp, lighthearted satire.
• Flora Potts ("The Flowerpot"): An anxious, overly logical young orphan student. She wants to avoid an unwanted marriage to her missing suitor's uncle and flees to New York to seek protection from her guardian.
• Mr. J. Bumstead: A devious, clove-chewing devotional musician and organist. He seeks Flora's hand in marriage and remains surrounded by suspicion regarding the disappearance of his nephew, Edwin.
• Mr. Dibble: An elderly lawyer and Flora's guardian. He wants to assist his distress-prone ward, listening attentively to her troubles before stashing her at French's Hotel and retreating to his home in Gowanus.
• Hiram Green: A former Justice of the Peace writing in broad regional dialect. He aims to offer unsolicited political advice to European monarchs while reflecting on the absurdity of legal definitions of sanity.
• Saginaw Dodd: An observational traveler touring rural New York. He desires a pleasant excursion, but finds himself constantly amused and annoyed by bad hotel food, eccentric tourists, and dubious local lore.

In Its Own Voice

"If Vol. I of PUNCHINELLO was a Chassepot, (and it did make some havoc in the ranks of the enemy,) Vol. II is intended to be a mitrailleuse."

— The editor lays out the periodical's aggressive satirical ambitions for its new volume.

"He asked her to ride to the church, and they rode; / They so sweetly did glide, that they both thought they glode, / And they came to the place to be tied, and were tode."

— A stanza from "The Lovers," illustrating the issue's penchant for wordplay and grammatical absurdity.

"I stepped out of my tent and tumbled over VON MOLTKE. He took my arm and invited me to the tent of the Crown Prince."

— The mock war correspondent begins his absurd cable dispatch from the Franco-Prussian front.

What It's Really About

Beneath its slapstick humor and wordplay, the issue acts as a mirror to Post-Civil War American anxieties, media consumption, and changing cultural norms. The piece explores the absurdities of popular entertainment, from serialized sensational fiction to heavy-handed stage melodramas. By turning real-world events like the Franco-Prussian War into absurd, domestic farces, the text neutralizes foreign anxieties for an American audience. It also pokes fun at nineteenth-century social mobility, urban life, and changing gender roles—such as women entering legal positions or participating in sports—revealing a society rapidly navigating modernization. Ultimately, it argues that satire, levity, and a skepticism toward pretension are essential tools for surviving the noise and confusion of contemporary life.

Why Read It Today

Modern readers interested in nineteenth-century history, literary parodies, or the development of American humor will find this issue a rich, entertaining artifact. It offers a direct window into what made ordinary readers laugh in 1870, far removed from the polished lens of classic canonical literature. Reading it feels like flipping through a nineteenth-century variety show, full of sudden tone shifts, lively visual prose, and unvarnished popular culture.

The text is not without its period difficulties. Readers must navigate heavy phonetic spellings, regional dialects, and intentional misspellings that were popular in nineteenth-century American comedy but can slow down modern reading. Additionally, the issue relies heavily on immediate, highly specific current events from 1870—such as the Franco-Prussian War, local New York theater managers, and forgotten literary feuds—which may require occasional context to fully appreciate. Nevertheless, its sheer energy, clever wordplay, and cheerful irreverence toward politicians, public institutions, and social solemnity remain surprisingly fresh and engaging.