Punch (77.1879)

172

PUNCH, OE THE LONDON CHAEIVAEL

[October 18, 1879.

have seen it abroad, been struck by it, and adopted it for private
use.

Mr. Arthur Cecil has never played so well as in this part of
John Hamond, 31.P., to whom Mr. Albery has given far and away
the best of the dialogue—the best because always natural, always
in keeping with the character, and never once labouring for a point,
or striving to produce an imitation-Dickens simile. Into almost
every other character Mr. Arthur Cecil has had_, something more
or less of the grotesque has entered. Here there is nothing of the
sort, and it is an excellent performance.

In one of the most difficult situations ever presented on the Stage,
Miss Linda Dietz, as Murcelle Aubry, the victim of the late
lamented Sir Geoffrey, by her most artistic impersonation carries
her audience with her where it was more than probable an audience
would begin by being unsympathetic and end by being decidedly
bored. Her story, told by herself, and coming at a most critical
time, when every second of delay is fraught with danger to the
piece, is admirably written, and as admirably delivered. After
hearing it, Sir Geoffrey looks up at the portrait of his " Awful
Dad," and exclaims that what he has heard is "too horrible to be
true!" Why? There's nothing whatever "horrible" about it.
It is a disillusion—a painful disillusion, perhaps—but nothing to
scream, and pant, and tear one's hair about. " Fancy the poor old
Governor having gone in for this sort of thing ! " would have been
a far more natural remark, and young Sir Geoffrey's uncle John
Hamond, or his friend Dick Fanshaioe (well played by Mr. Forbes
Robertson) would have comforted him by observing that " Boys
will be boys, specially when they 're old boys "—and there would
have been an end of the matter. The situation of the piece, when
once arrived at, is very strong, no doubt about it. But after that,
the last Act is tediously spun out, for the sake of a series of utterly
purposeless scenes between any of the characters whose parts it has
apparently struck the author—I mean Mr. Sardou—ought to be
" written up a bit."

The last Act is a day after the fair, and a melancholy day, too.
Les Bancroft should have been in the bill; but perhaps their policy
is se reculer here, pour mieux sauter at the Haymarket. New dish,
" Bancroft sautes."

At the Alhambra, Lecocq's La Petite Mademoiselle has been suc-
cessfully produced. "What the plot of this comic opera may be, after
sitting out three Acts, I have only the very vaguest idea—indeed,
I am perfectly certain, that, at this moment, if Mr. Charles Morton
were at my head with a pistol, I could not tell it to save my life.
Perhaps the plot, like other conspiracies, is a secret. If so, nothing
on earth, not even a dinner given me by all the Directors of the
Alhambra Company, should coerce me to divulge it. But what does
the story matter ? Nothing. Here are bright scenes, music with
plenty of "go" in it, graceful forms, good voices, first-rate band con-
ducted by Three-Fingered Jack Obi (I mean M. Jacobi,—but what's
become of that delightful old play, Obi; or Three-Fingered Jack f)
and Mr. Paulton exactly suited by Mr. Reece with a very funny,
and punny, part, the speech about the battle, in Mr. Paulton's
humorously dry lecture style, going with roars of laughter. This
last will grow, or I am much mistaken. Mr. Henry S. Leigh wrote
the words of the songs, but I hadn't a book, and, except a few lines
here and there, intelligible when either Miss Alice May, or Miss
Loseby was singing, I couldn't catch a word. Perhaps the plot
was in the songs: if so, that is why I missed it.

The most successful morceaux were Mr. Kelleher's first song, and
his next in the Second Act. What they were about I don't know,
so can only praise the music and the vocalisation. Miss Loseby's
battle-song in Act II., well sung and deservedly encored, and the
finale of this Act, chorus and difficult solo, also sung by Miss
Loseby, very effective, and of course encored. The most taking
song, however, was Miss Alice May's in the Third Act, when she
enters as an Astrologer. This obtained quite the heartiest encore of
the evening. The air of the Doctor's Trio dance in the last Act,
closely resembles the celebrated Can-can in Orphee aux Enfers, and
indeed, from first to last, the music bears always such a family
resemblance to something else that one has heard before, as to
revent it ever rising above the commonplace ; but, on the other
and, there's quite enough of "go" and "show" in it to fill the
Alhambra up to Christmas, when the Directors can meet, and the
Chairman can go on his knees to a coy and blushing shareholder,
and make a declaration of a ten per cent, dividend for the half-year,
when the Curtain will descend upon a happy dance round the statue
of Shakspeare, in the centre of the square, where "One touch of
nature makes the whole world kin." Good engagement, Miss
Loseby : they can't lose by Loseby.

Those who have not yet seen that curiosity The Iron Chest, should
hasten to do so before it disappears for ever. It is a poor play with
one strong part in it, and Mr. Irving's Sir Edward Mortimer is a
fine performance. The theatre-going public is all agog for his Shy-
lock, which will be produced if possible before Christmas; but, in the
meantime, that the theatre-going public should fill Mr. Irving's tin

box, by seeing his Iron Chest is the advice of that veteran—I mean
that inveterate playgoer,

Your Representative.

P.S. In the piece at the Lyceum it is odd that Mr. Irving never
once opens his own chest, but when his secretary does it for him, then
he sings out. Nota bene—as the man said when he couldn't get des
haricots at a restaurant's.

P.S. No. 2.—As, in a postscript I cannot do full justice to the opening
of Sadler's Wells under Mrs. Bateman's management, I will keep
this for my next. Suffice it to say, that Miss Bateman, our Queen
Leah, received a perfect ovation on appearing before the Curtain to
perform that most difficult of all tasks, the delivery of an inaugural
address, and that there was real water from the wells in the third
Act, so that when asked " What's running at Sadler's Wells ? " we
can safely answer, " The water—until further notice." I sincerely-
trust that the Manageress will make " Bob Roy Macgregor O," Rob
Roy Macgregor pay; and, judging from the start, it seems likely
enough that Mrs. Bateman has been wise in not following the old
adage which recommends us to " Leave Wells alone." More anon.

Y. R.

f< PEACE WITH HONOUR,"

in its latest diplomatic illustration.

{A tale founded on fact.)

One sultry day towards the close of the summer, two shabbily—
not to say squalidly—dressed foreigners, of European complexion
and. garb, might have been seen wearily driving a small and ram-
shackle one-horse cart, seemingly laden with garden stuff, through
the streets of Mandalay to the quay which serves as the place of
embarkation for the steamers, through which the capital of the
Golden Realm is linked with the outer world. In spite of their,
miserable dresses and wretchedly-horsed vehicle, these barbarians
had the unmistakable look and bearing of educated men. Nayr
there was even something of dignity in the carriage of their heads,
their movements, and the tone in which they addressed each other,
low as it was, and evidently suppressed by an ever-present conscious-
ness of the danger of being overheard.

" A brilliant idea of the Resident," whispered the elder, after a
wary glance around, " thus to send to a place of safety the Archives
of the Residency, with his own plate, linen, and ready money, with-
out exciting suspicion! Who would believe that under cover of
these humble vegetables are hidden the secrets of Imperial Policy,
as well as the most precious portion of the personal belongings of
the haughty Representative of that mighty Empire upon which the
sun never sets ! "

So saying, they passed on unquestioned, unsuspected: soon the-
steamer was reached, and the contents of the carts safely stowed on

While this scene was passing in the long-shore quarter of Manda-,
lay, the Representative of the British Empire, in his pavilion in thq