Punch: Punch (76.1879)

June 14, 1879.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON

CHARIVARI.

275

A CASE OF "NO COMPRENNY."

"Ha! Mistake Robinson! 'Ow do you do? 'Av you seen ze iast new
Piece at ze 'Olleborne ? Supairrb ! Splendeed ! ! Good ! ! ! "

"A—no—I don't patronise the English Drama. I like Finish, Deli-
cacy, Refinement ; and I'm happy to say I've secured Tickets for all
the French Plays!"

"Tiens! Mais vous savez le Francais, alors ?"

"A—I beg your PAIiDON?"

"Je vous demande si vous savez le Francais, parbleu ! Cruche,
Melon, Baudet, Dinde, Jobard, Cretin, Momie, (Jolin-Maillard que vous
etes ? "

"A—quite so ! No doubt ! A—by the bye, have you seen Jones lately ? "
OUR REPRESENTATIVE MAN.

Nothing much—Magnifico— Gaiety— Olympic—French—English—Mother—
Venice—Ancient—Illusion—Summary—Postscript.

Of course just now in the theatrical world of London it's omne ig7iotum pro
magnifico—the magnifico being the Comedie Francaise Company now at the
Gaiety Theatre, to which, naturally, M. le Redacteur-en-Chef devotes what is
supposed to be his leisure. The performance of that Company is a treat, I
admit—a genuine treat; and it may be for years, or it may be for never, that
I shall ever have the chance of witnessing—on this side of the Channel, without
the intervention of those confounded waves about which Britons boast so much,
and which they so cordially detest—the ensemble, the galaxy, that now coruscates
at the Gaiety Theatre.

The genuine Gaiety Company, Miles. Nellie Farren, Vaugitan, &c, are
just now strolling players about the provinces, with, by the way, a grand per-
formance under Royal patronage at Yarmouth. " The Return of the Native "
will be early in July.

Yet there are many things English to be seen in town.

" Who was it caught me in Pall Mall,
And told me what he'd got to tell,
That I must see what goes so well ?—
The Mother."

I'm glad they've found the Mother at the Olympic at
last. First they had The Two Orphans, then Married
not Mated (which was satisfactory), and now we've got
The Mother. Of course the first question is, "How's
your Mother ? " Well, I saw her last night, and I think
she is doing as well as, or better, than could_ be expected.
She has only been out a week or so, poor thing!

The Alhambra is marvellous in costumes and effects,
and '' Beautiful Venice'' is just now the pride of Leicester
Square; and when the entranced spectator comes out
into a lovely rainy night (here we are again, in June!),
he can keep up the illusion by sending a waterman for a
gondola on wheels.

A propos of illusions, more or less delightful, I was
invited, the other day, to witness the new illusion at
the same old place—the Home of Science in Regent Street
—the ancient Polytechnic.

" Scenes of my childhood, once more I behold you ! "
There's the diving-bell,—and the diver ;T!and the brass
knobs, every one of which I regard suspiciously, as being
charged with electricity, and ready to thrill me to the
very tips of my boots if I dare lay rash hands on any
one of them. And there are the models which have
never been perfected—only inventions born but to be
registered, and die; and "there are the models of suc-
cessful inventions that have brought fame and fortune
to their proprietors; and there is the man who, almost
angrily, insists on cutting out your profile in black, in
less time than I take to tell of his existence; and there
are the ships, and the cables, and the Flying Leotard
Doll—this is a late innovation, and would not have been
tolerated in my scientific age when I was_ a boy,—and
there are the merry-go-round and optical illusions, and
the noise of machinery, and the glass manufacturers, and
the dust, and the mysterious sounds of music, and of
someone talking, and a general atmosphere of lecturers
past and gone, but still pervading the place, and smiling
benignly on their successors who adhere to the old paths,
and weeping over the degeneracy of the Public that
craves for more amusement than instruction.

1 had often seen Pepper's Ghost, and once I have had
an interview with Professor Pepper himself, but this
was years ago, and now the Professor has gone to Aus-
tralia ; and, as there is still a mysterious spectre roaming
about the Polytechnic, I suppose he may sing to the tune
of " The Girl I Left Behind Me,"—

" I've gone away
To Austra-li-a,
So all know where to find me ;

I shall not return for many a day,
But—I' ve left my Ghost hehind me."

Only—I am not quite clear whether the Ghost, or the
Illusion, as the mysterious apparition is now called at
the Polytechnic, is the property of the Professor or of its
inventor, Mr. Brady ; but, anyhow, it is a wonderful
effect, and, as a Statue becomes endowed with life and
then returns to its former inanimate material, Metempsy-
chosis might be used to illustrate the story of Pygmalion
and Galatcea, though the audience there, having pro-
bably had enough of science and instruction, would
prefer to be more amused than merely interested, and
unless something like the German burlesque opera on
this subject were given, the simple story itself might
become a trifle tedious in dumb-show.

Three comparatively old French pieces are in process
of being tackled by as many British dramatists, the re-
sult of whose struggles will be seen during the next
autumn and winter season, and Miss Neilson, after a
brief but glorious career at the Adelphi, will leave Eng-
land in the Autumn for two years. 'Tis true, 'tis pity.

Mr. Irving is having quite a rollicking time of it at
the Lyceum, with a round of revivals, and will try to
improve on the old Corsican Brothers—poor old twins!—
when he reproduces them. Mr. Fechter attempted im-
provements on Kean's version, and it was a big mistake.
Once since then I saw the melodrama, with I forget
what company, at the Princess's, and it seemed to me
to be dull, flat stale, and I should say unprofitable.
Was it that the old illusion of days gone by had
departed? Was it that the "Ghost melody " had lost its
charm ? Was it that, since the mania for Spiritualism,
I expected more from the Ghost than the Ghost was able
to give ? Was it because I knew how it was done, and
it was no longer a clever illusion ? Or was it that I had
dined wisely and well, and felt satisfied with myself