Punch: Punch (78.1880)

Mat 15, 1880.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

225

and is enthusiastically received by the crowded audience. Mr. W.
Carleton, as Captain Robert, is a great acquisition as the tenor
of comic opera. Miss Edith Blande is a magnificent Vivandiere,
amusingly contrasted with her little lover the Drummer. Mr. Kel-
leser’s absurd fop, Marquis Bambini, is an example of a most
Difficult small part artistically played; he knows exactly where to
draw the line, and draws it distinctly. Miss Constance Loseby
tings and plays charmingly, and is the life and soul of all the Opera.

Mr. MERVIN has a conventional type of soldier in the Tambour
Major, hut he is thoroughly in earnest, and triumphs over the diffi-
culties of what ought to be a most dramatic situation, but which,
unfortunately, is the most weakly-written scene of the Opera. The
mu'ic could not be better rendered than by the orchestral army
under the baton of Field-Marshal Jacobi, to whom also are due
the trainiug of the Chorus and the perfect ensemble. The first four
bars of the March to which the French Army makes its grand entry
for the final tableau, are, it seemed to me, note for note, the com-
mencement of “ ’Tivas in Trafalgar's Bay,” which is remarkable
as a coincidence.

The Alhambra has scored a success, and I hope the same may
be said of Mr. Toole at the Folly, with Mr. Byron’s TJpper Crust,
though here again there is not much novelty either in the story or
the characters. It is “ Old materials carefully worked up to look as
good as new.” Doublechick, soap-merchant, who makes up for
dropping his H’s by putting them in again when least expected, is
only twin-brother to the Butterman in Our Boys—the distinction
being that the latter was written for Mr. David James, and this is
written for Mr. J. L. Toole, who is, of course, inimitably funny in
his own peculiar way. We all cry “Hoorah!” as the song says,
“ When Johnny comes Marching Home." Doublechick is like
the Bich Parient in the song of “ Villikins and. liis Dinah," who,
Mr. Robson used to inform us in one of his inimitable asides, was
also “ a large soap merchant,”—

He has but one daughter, an unkimmon fine young gal,

Her name it is Norah, scarce eighteen year old,

With a werry large fortune in siliver and. gold.

And then, of course, he wants to marry her to a title, and is strug-
gling to get into what Jeames calls the “upper suckles,” by the
assistance of an impecunious nobleman, represented by Mr. John
Billington, who might have stepped right out of one of the pictures
which illustrate the thrilling tales of the London Journal or Reynolds's
Miscellany. There is the strawberry-mark on the left arm to finish
up with, in the shape of a ring on Walter Wrentmore's finger, and*
the ’aughty Hearl acknowledges the nameless Horphan as his long-
lost child. There is some really good writing in it which goes for
very little, some carefully-led-up-to jokes which go for double their
value, and a few old friends which receive a welcome “frosty but
kindly.”

Mr. Toole’s part will never be so popular as his Tottles, nor as his
Chawles. The “ Nameless Orphan ” can’t achieve the popularity of
“ the Bard,” and when Doublechick is not on the stage, in the First
and Second. Acts, there is not much to amuse us except Sir Robert
Boobleton, Bart., which is capitally played by Mr. E. W. Garden.
The absurd row at the end of the Second Act brings down the cur-
tain on a tellingly funny climax ; but the merit of the piece is that
its Third Act is its liveliest, though marred by a weak finish and an
old-fashioned “tag.” Mr. Toole’s “get-up” as Doublechick is
admirable.

I can strongly recommend all in search of moving incidents, an
interesting story and stirring situations to go to Sadler’s Wells for
The Danites. The acting is very good, and the scenery and general
mounting of the piece reflect the greatest credit on Mr. Hall the
Artist, and the Manageress Mrs. Bateman. Mrs. McKee Rankin—
it’s an awkward name—is very effective as Nancy Williams “the
last of a doomed family ” (doomed is not John Browdie's Yorkshire
for swearing), and still more so when she is disguised as Billy Piper;
this Lady shares the success with her husband, who plays the part
of Sandy, “A Miner,”—not at all in a minor key. The story, in
fact, may be described as that of a Miner and an Orphan. Mr.
Harry Hawk as Washee- Washee, the Heathen Chinee, an inevit-
able type in what The Parson (Mr. W. E. Sheridan) calls “the
glorious climate of Californy,” represents the broad comic element,
and is very amusing. The Danites who have committed most of their
crimes before the first rising of the curtain, get hung before its final
descent, and from what is seen and heard of them, the verdict of the
audience will certainly be “ Sarve ’em right.” I should think The
Danites is a growing success, and ought to draw East and West to
the Wells for some time to come. The scenes are based on Bret
Harte’s sketches. By the way, why was this eminent American
signalled out as the Representative ot Literature generally at the
Academy Dinner ? Of American Literature certainly, but scarcely
of Literature in toto. In reply, he read his speech from a manu-
script, so that, after all, as he couldn’t learn it, it wasn’t a speech by
Harte.

At the Olympic, Mr. Byron’s latest Burlesque is not of a political

character arising out of the late elections, though it might be so
inferred from the title, which indicates his having, under a Liberal
management, trove a Tory for his subject. Mr. Hollingshead has
the only genuine Burlesque Company in London, and such a team as
Misses Nellie Earren, Kate Vaughan, and the two Edwards,
Terry and Royce, can’t be equalled just now anywhere.

Madame Albani is singing better than ever. Her Lucia was
magnificent. The one Opera ought to be doing immensely. It cer-
tainly was on the Sonnambula night, when there was scarcely a seat
to he had for love or money, or for Your Representative.

HAZY MAY.

hestnuts and
apple-trees blow
in May,

Pear-trees blow
over cowslip and
daisy,

The hyacinth blows under hawthorn spray,

But the wind blows too, and the vista’s hazy.
East and north-easterly airs prevail,

Lambs bleat, bull-calves bellow, and heifers ;

The susceptible creatures rue the gale,

As poets and little pigs pine for zephyrs.

At times, though skies be little o’ercast,

The sun glares fiercely upon thee, my Brother,
And thou shiverest in a biting blast,

Parched one moment and chilled another.

Behold the leaflets, golden green,

In the blaze that illumes and warms not glowing;
They droop and they shrink, for all their sheen,
Pinched by the May breeze keenly blowing !

Lo, the foliage, verdure, and bloom,
in garden and grove and field that mingle,
Scathed by an arid and sharp simoom,

Which dries up the ground to shard and shingle,
And puffeth clouds of dust in your eyes,

Doing aU that it can to drive you crazy,

While the song-birds are mute, not a cuckoo cries,
And May is in general bleak and hazy !

Reassurance for Radicals.

Mr. Chamberlain, who was until recently in a large way of
business at Birmingham as a Screw-turner, has been turned into
a Cabinet Minister by Mr. Gladstone ; it being considered neces-
sary, for the safety of the Cabinet, that he should be “ screwed
down.”

Metropolitan Medical Affections.—Congestion of the British
Museum and Determination to South Kensington.