Punch (56.1869)

76

PUNCH, OP THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[February 20, 1869.

EVENINGS FROM HOME.

(Being from “ Home ” of course the Theatre here represented is
not the Haymarket.)

A FIRST NIGHT.

&cene—Interior of the Royal Bertie Theatre, on the first night of a
peculiar Comedy, by Mr. Wobbison.

Stall Keeper. Yes, Sir. (Reads our numbers) Stalls 67 and 99.

Friend {astonished). Here, they’re together.

Stall Keeper (finding he has turned one card upside down). Beg pardon.
Yes, Sir—so manv people to—{Calls to invisible assistant) Sixty-six
and Sixty-seven. {We descend)

*** We are fortunate in the position of our Stalls, and especially in
finding ourselves near a remarkably Well-Informed Person
who apparently belongs to a party of six. On his right is an
Elderly Lady with eye-glasses, and, next to her, a younger
Lady. On his left two Gentlemen, one evidently being a visitor
to Town, determined to see as much as possible in a short time.

Well-informed Person. I chose this night because it’s the first of the
new piece, and you ’ll see all the Theatrical and Literary notabilities here.

Elderly Lady (referring to bill, under a sort of impression that shell
find their names down there). Indeed!

[.Rustling in the Stalls. Enter a brilliant party of two Ladies and
two Gentlemen. They nod and smile to several people in the back
row. While the Ladies are settling themselves down, the Gentle-
men nod and smile to various persons in the front rows, as if
congratulating themselves and everybody else on having done
something curiously clever and witty in being there at all. When
the party is seated, they are acknowledged by other parties in
private boxes. More nodding amd smiling.

Laxly {just come in to Gentleman with her). There’s Mrs. Purket
up in that box. (Inclines herself graciously to Lady in box, who returns
the salute. A Gentleman’s head appears from behind the box-curtain, and
bows and smiles to Lady in Stalls, then nods somewhat jovially to her
companion. The idea conveyed to a. looker-on is, that if they were not
separated by their respective positions from one another, they icould all rush
into each other's arms, so pleased do they appear at the mutual recognition.
The dialogue in Stalls continues.) What has Mrs. Purket done to her
hair ? I never saw such a-

Gentleman. Saw Purket driving a pair to-day. They seem to be
going it. Can’t last. {Recognises more people, smiles and nods.)

Well-informed Person {to Gentleman on his left). I say {sotto voce) you
see that man there with the brown moustache ? {After several mistakes,
friend hits upon the right, individual.) Well—that’s the Proprietor of
the——{Voice sinks into whisper).

Friend from country. No! is it ? {Inspects the Gentleman in question
with curiosity.) Hoes he write much ?

Well-informed Person {with some contempt). Write! No, of course
not. Enormous fortune. {Turns to Lady) See that tall man just
come in ?

_ Lady {with glasses). Yes. {Feels deeply interested. Young Lady
listens)

Well-informed Person. That’s—(Sinks his voice, and tells her who
that is)

Elderly Lady {feeling that she ought to know all about him). Really.
{Considers) Let me see, he wrote-

Well-informed Person. Wrote! Why he writes all those pieces at
the Magnet Theatre. Don’t you recollect—you liked ’em so much.

Elderly Lady. Oh yes, of course. {Inspects him again, as though with
a. view to see if he 's writing a. play now.)

Young Lady {interested). Who is it, Mamma?

Mamma. Well, I—{quietly to daughter) I didn’t quite catch the name,
but I ’ll ask Mr. Toplin again presently.

Well-informed Person {nodding delightedly to a tall severe-looking
Person). Did you see that man I was nodding to ?

His Friend {proud of him). Yes. Who is it?

Well-informed Person. That’s Jiggersby, of the Piccadilly.

His_ Friend {as if he had expected something quite different). Is it
really? {To Young Man) That’s Jiggersby, you know, of the Pic-
cadilly—(Young Man, uninterested in everybody except a very pretty girl
with light hair in a private box)—Jiggersby* you know, who wrote-

Young Man {seeing a handsome Lady with the Gentleman pointed tut
os Jiggersby.) Who’s that with—er—what ’s-his-name, eh ?

Well-informed Person {who hasn't got the slightest idea). That’s his
wife, I think. _ [Young Man uses Opera-glasses.

Literary Gentleman {in stalls, talking earnestly). Did you see that re-
view' of Groughin’s book in the Mausoleum ?

Second Lit. Yes—who did it ?

Third Lit. Don’t know—but it seems Groughin got all his plot from
an old Hindostanee romance, &c.

[They lay their heads together, and reveal to each other awful literary
secrets.

Well-informed Person {intenselyexcited). Look ! there’s Smugg, who
writes in the Fac-Simile Gazette, he’s shaking hands with Clippun—
that’s Clippun who wrote the Traitor’s Daughter. Smugg walked
into him the other day—cut him up awfully in the Fac-Simile.

Swell {in answer to a Friend). Always come first night of a piece.
Something’s sure to go wrong, or stick, and the Prompter’s such fun.

First Critic {to Second Critic). Is Wobbison here ?

Second Critic. Yes, saw him just now. Up there in a box.

[Wobbison’s head suddenly bobs forward in a private box. He is
recognised by several friends beloiv, who give him an encouraging
smile. Wobbison retires to the back of the box, and thinks
it's getting confoundedly hot. Gallery and Pit show signs of
impatience. Wobbison irritably wonders why the dickens they
carCt begin. Well-informed Person, who has been pointing
out a totally different person as Wobbison, falls a peg or two
in his friend’s estimation.

Amateur Critic (distantly connected with the Papers). The piece is
from the French—yes—I recollect it years ago. Old Barillon played
in it at the Gymnase.

Professional Critic (seeing capital to be made out of this information.)
What was the name of the piece ?

Amateur Critic {considering). Oh—shall forget my own name soon;
ah, dear me, yes—of course—L’Homme.

First Act received with rapturous applause. Everyone called, including
the scene-painter.

In the Lobby.

Enthusiastic Friend. Capital, isn’t it ? best thing he’s done ! Out
and out ! !

Cautious Friend. Well, it’s nice and pleasing; but nothing very
great.

Enthusiastic Friend (who ha tes a middle opinion). Oh, it’s admirable !!
splendid !! !

[Continues to jabber about the excellency of the piece until he creates
a positive antagonism to it, himself, and Wobbison.

Amateur Critic {who has had several pieces declined with thanks, depre-
ciatingly). All from the French—good—but nothing original.

Wobbison’s Professional Friends {eagerly). What ? eh ? from the
French ?

[Amateur Critic, having obtained an audience, repeats his information.
In the meantime, as we walk about, everyone is how-dhje-doing
everyone else, and the Private Box doors are, as it were, thrown
open to the public. The Well-Informed Person comes out
very strongly here.

Well-informed Person {loudly). I was at the Turret Theatre the other
night—seen it ? No ? bosh. {Taps Friend on shoulder, and subdues his
tone). There’s Coppaleen Bawn. {Pointing out an elderly gentleman
in a. glossy hat)

Friend {as if this “must" be impossible) No.

Well-informed Person. Yes : he’s made about two hundred thousand
pounds by one play.

[Friend staggered, having hitherto held a vague idea that dramatists
produced their pjieces merely for the fun of the thing.

Second Act commences. Every one charmed^ though less so than with
the First Act. Slight hissing someiohere, apparently for no particular
reason. Great applause.

Amateur Critic (reporting of the piece afterwards when we come across
him at a Club). Success? Not a bit. First Act went well; but the
Second was hissed off the stage, Sir.

Friend (interested). How did the Third Act go ?

Amateur Critic {who prides himself upon not being carried aw'ay by the
vulgar enthusiasm). Flatly. Wants cutting. It is delightfully acted. \
{He allows this in order to account for a success) But as a piece—not
up to the original French.

Enter Wobbison, to Supper.

Amateur Critic {hailing him). Hullo ! Wobby. I think you must
be satisfied with the way your piece -wsls played, hey ?

Wobbison {modestly). Yes. It seemed to go very well. Hope ’twill
be a success.

Amateur Critic {as heartily as he can). Hope so, I’m sure. Luck’s
everyth»g. {Thinks he has hit Wobbison hard there, and can now
make « good exit) Good night.

[Exit, and thinks to himself how he’ll finish his little Comedy, and
have it ready in case Wobbtson’s doesn’t do.

And so we finish the evening, with a not very clear idea of the piece,
and an undecided opinion as to its merits, and we think to ourselves
that if we want to form a correct judgment about a piece, we will not
again go to see it amid the bustle, heat, confusion, and excitement of a
First Night

duoth. Robert Lowe.

Economy in the abstract makes a good cry for office ; but economy
in the concrete makes a bad foundation for popularity.