DOI issue:
July 23, 1864
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16874#0046
38
[July 23, 1864.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER.
THE NEW COLOURS.
& Nttrserg £>ra=<Scmg.
So we’ve done with the Red, White, and Blue,
And we’ve done with the Red, White, and Blue,
For we hear from Lord Clarence,
The nautical Barons
Have made an arrangement that’s new.
Her Majesty’s ensign is White,
Yes, Her Majesty’s ensign is White,
And ships of all nations,
Must make salutations,
Whenever that flag comes in sight.
But what have you done with the Blue ?
And what have you done with the Blue ?
That colour is handed
To vessels commanded
And manned by Reserve-Men so true.
Then who shall display the bold Red ?
And who shall display the bold Red iJ
Bold Merchants, whose story
Is England’s true glory,
Shall hoist the proud flag. Go to bed.
THE NEXT VOTE OF CENSURE.
Should the present drought continue over another week,
Mr. Disraeli will move in the House of Commons, a
Resolution for an Humble Address to be presented to
Her Majesty stating:—“That this House views with the
j greatest alarm and concern the long continuance of a
| want of rain, as fraught with peril to the best interests of
| the country, and regrets that, whilst Admiral Fitzroy
! has been retained in his post by Her Majesty’s Ministers
as Chief of the Weather Office, all measures which the
Government may have taken to obtain a sufficiency of
refreshing showers have been unsuccessful.” It is under-
| stood that this Resolution will be equivalent to a vote of
Censure on Lord Palmerston’s Government.
“ Go it, Old Dusty, you ’re as good as a Fortun to us ; so Tip us yer Two Economical Dishes for Dinner.—Two Dishes
Foot, and I’ll just give yer a Shine for Nothink.” with nothing on them.
OUR DRAMATIC CORRESPONDENT.
Dear Punch,
Somnambulism and insanity have both been represented on
the operatic stage, and witnessed with the plaudits of many a pleased
audience. Amina walks in sleep, and Lucia goes mad, and both of them
to such sweet music that one is charmed by what to some people might
seem a painful exhibition. More recently, composers have from mental
aberrations turned to physical complaints, and sickness has been sweetly
set to music for the stage. In one Opera the heroine goes off in a
consumption, and the chief interest is sustained by her portrayal of
the gradual advance of the disease ; while in a still more recent work
the unhappy prima donna is smitten by a sun-stroke, and dies after
seeing visions, which she vocally describes. Perhaps ague will be
chosen next for operatic treatment, and this disease would admirably
suit the French vibrato style of singing, which fosters quite an agueish
vibration of the voice. For vocalists who sing as if they had the
shivers, a sharp attack of ague would be just the very thing to make
their singing natural; and while the tenor had his shaking fits, the
baritone, or bass might be afflicted with the gout, which would give
good opportunity for a burst, of vocal vehemence whenever a twinge
came, or some one trod on his big? toe.
One surely sees enough of sickness in the world, without wanting to
see it introduced upon the stage, and I could wish that in Mirella the
sun-stroke had been stricken out of the libretto, ere the pen of the
composer had begun to labour at it. Of course if foolish girls go
walking in hot climates with nothing on then heads, they run the risk
of being smitten by a coup-de-soleil; but there is very little interest in
the sight of such an accident, and really I should like Mirella all the
better if, when she wandered forth to pray for her lost lover, she had
the common sense to put her shawl and bonnet on, and, for fear of
sun-stroke, take a parasol. When she sees the vision of what is called
in the libretto “ a wonderful city on the brink of a large lake,” and
sings out in an extasy, “ Fors e Gerusalem, ed il suo templo santo ; fors e
I’avel delle Five del mar,” I dare say a good many people thought it
very fine; but I could not help reflecting that the poet had derived his
inspiration from the ballad, wherein poor little Billy sings at the
masthead:—
“ I see Jerusalem and Madagascar,
And North and South A merikee.
And the British fleet a riding at anchor,
With Admibal Nelson, K.C.B.”
With all its faults, however (and for these not the composer but the
poet maybe thanked), I think Mirella quite worth hearing by those
who like to hear a pretty, pleasant, piquant, unpretentious pastoral
Opera: and I would specially give credit for the way in which this last
named quality throughout is borne in mind. To people who are fond
of judging by comparison, and cannot hear one opera without thinking
of another, I would say that the bold song of the rough suitor Orrias is
as picturesque and rugged and well suited to the character, as the song
of Mephistopheles, “ Fio dell’ or ; ” while the charming recitative which
precedes the air Mirella sings before Orrias comes to plague her, is a
bit that made me think of Weber and Mozart. What most pleased
me, however, was—no, not your song, Mrs. Trebelll piquant as it is,
and piquante as are you; nor yet your one song. Miss v olpini, pretty as
it is, and pretty as are you—but the duet “ Ah, parla ancor ! ” in which
the two gills’ voices blend so charmingly and sweetly that he must have
the ears of Midas, who does not feel a pleasant tickle in them while he I
listens to the strain.
I should not have spoken of the opera so much, but that of the \
theatres there is so little to be said. Indeed our managers this
season seem somewhat bent on following the early _ closing move-
ment, for unless you cross the Thames, or made a journey to the
City, you will only find four theatres which are not now shut up. At
these you have the choice of either seeing the Ticket of Leave Man for
the three hundred and sixtieth time, or of seeing Mr. Webster in one
of his old parts (Janet Pride or the Fead Heart, pray which, Mr. Critic,
do you incline to call his best ?) or of seeing a new play—at least a
newly borrowed one—for Ma’amselle Stella Colas, or of seeing a
new burlesque on the now fashionable Faust. If you have caught the
Faust fever, and have given your two guineas to see Patti as Mar
[July 23, 1864.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER.
THE NEW COLOURS.
& Nttrserg £>ra=<Scmg.
So we’ve done with the Red, White, and Blue,
And we’ve done with the Red, White, and Blue,
For we hear from Lord Clarence,
The nautical Barons
Have made an arrangement that’s new.
Her Majesty’s ensign is White,
Yes, Her Majesty’s ensign is White,
And ships of all nations,
Must make salutations,
Whenever that flag comes in sight.
But what have you done with the Blue ?
And what have you done with the Blue ?
That colour is handed
To vessels commanded
And manned by Reserve-Men so true.
Then who shall display the bold Red ?
And who shall display the bold Red iJ
Bold Merchants, whose story
Is England’s true glory,
Shall hoist the proud flag. Go to bed.
THE NEXT VOTE OF CENSURE.
Should the present drought continue over another week,
Mr. Disraeli will move in the House of Commons, a
Resolution for an Humble Address to be presented to
Her Majesty stating:—“That this House views with the
j greatest alarm and concern the long continuance of a
| want of rain, as fraught with peril to the best interests of
| the country, and regrets that, whilst Admiral Fitzroy
! has been retained in his post by Her Majesty’s Ministers
as Chief of the Weather Office, all measures which the
Government may have taken to obtain a sufficiency of
refreshing showers have been unsuccessful.” It is under-
| stood that this Resolution will be equivalent to a vote of
Censure on Lord Palmerston’s Government.
“ Go it, Old Dusty, you ’re as good as a Fortun to us ; so Tip us yer Two Economical Dishes for Dinner.—Two Dishes
Foot, and I’ll just give yer a Shine for Nothink.” with nothing on them.
OUR DRAMATIC CORRESPONDENT.
Dear Punch,
Somnambulism and insanity have both been represented on
the operatic stage, and witnessed with the plaudits of many a pleased
audience. Amina walks in sleep, and Lucia goes mad, and both of them
to such sweet music that one is charmed by what to some people might
seem a painful exhibition. More recently, composers have from mental
aberrations turned to physical complaints, and sickness has been sweetly
set to music for the stage. In one Opera the heroine goes off in a
consumption, and the chief interest is sustained by her portrayal of
the gradual advance of the disease ; while in a still more recent work
the unhappy prima donna is smitten by a sun-stroke, and dies after
seeing visions, which she vocally describes. Perhaps ague will be
chosen next for operatic treatment, and this disease would admirably
suit the French vibrato style of singing, which fosters quite an agueish
vibration of the voice. For vocalists who sing as if they had the
shivers, a sharp attack of ague would be just the very thing to make
their singing natural; and while the tenor had his shaking fits, the
baritone, or bass might be afflicted with the gout, which would give
good opportunity for a burst, of vocal vehemence whenever a twinge
came, or some one trod on his big? toe.
One surely sees enough of sickness in the world, without wanting to
see it introduced upon the stage, and I could wish that in Mirella the
sun-stroke had been stricken out of the libretto, ere the pen of the
composer had begun to labour at it. Of course if foolish girls go
walking in hot climates with nothing on then heads, they run the risk
of being smitten by a coup-de-soleil; but there is very little interest in
the sight of such an accident, and really I should like Mirella all the
better if, when she wandered forth to pray for her lost lover, she had
the common sense to put her shawl and bonnet on, and, for fear of
sun-stroke, take a parasol. When she sees the vision of what is called
in the libretto “ a wonderful city on the brink of a large lake,” and
sings out in an extasy, “ Fors e Gerusalem, ed il suo templo santo ; fors e
I’avel delle Five del mar,” I dare say a good many people thought it
very fine; but I could not help reflecting that the poet had derived his
inspiration from the ballad, wherein poor little Billy sings at the
masthead:—
“ I see Jerusalem and Madagascar,
And North and South A merikee.
And the British fleet a riding at anchor,
With Admibal Nelson, K.C.B.”
With all its faults, however (and for these not the composer but the
poet maybe thanked), I think Mirella quite worth hearing by those
who like to hear a pretty, pleasant, piquant, unpretentious pastoral
Opera: and I would specially give credit for the way in which this last
named quality throughout is borne in mind. To people who are fond
of judging by comparison, and cannot hear one opera without thinking
of another, I would say that the bold song of the rough suitor Orrias is
as picturesque and rugged and well suited to the character, as the song
of Mephistopheles, “ Fio dell’ or ; ” while the charming recitative which
precedes the air Mirella sings before Orrias comes to plague her, is a
bit that made me think of Weber and Mozart. What most pleased
me, however, was—no, not your song, Mrs. Trebelll piquant as it is,
and piquante as are you; nor yet your one song. Miss v olpini, pretty as
it is, and pretty as are you—but the duet “ Ah, parla ancor ! ” in which
the two gills’ voices blend so charmingly and sweetly that he must have
the ears of Midas, who does not feel a pleasant tickle in them while he I
listens to the strain.
I should not have spoken of the opera so much, but that of the \
theatres there is so little to be said. Indeed our managers this
season seem somewhat bent on following the early _ closing move-
ment, for unless you cross the Thames, or made a journey to the
City, you will only find four theatres which are not now shut up. At
these you have the choice of either seeing the Ticket of Leave Man for
the three hundred and sixtieth time, or of seeing Mr. Webster in one
of his old parts (Janet Pride or the Fead Heart, pray which, Mr. Critic,
do you incline to call his best ?) or of seeing a new play—at least a
newly borrowed one—for Ma’amselle Stella Colas, or of seeing a
new burlesque on the now fashionable Faust. If you have caught the
Faust fever, and have given your two guineas to see Patti as Mar