DOI Heft:
September 25, 1880
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17764#0150
142
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[September 25, 1880.
III III
1 I 'll 1
1 III
Tim ‘
A QUALIFIED JUDGE.
Squire Horsnail, M.P. {who had been Inspectin' the Board School). “ "Well, good-eye, Childek.
WELD : BUT YEB HAIN’T SOT STILL ! ”
Yep. Reads well, an’ yer Spells
A SUCCESS SCORED AT THE PROMENADE CONCERTS.
We wouldn’t have missed the Humorous Night at the Promenade
Concerts for a trifle—and we ’re very fond of trifle. The house was
cram-jammed from ceiling to floor by an audience that showed itself
decidedly appreciative and strictly critical. They were there to enj oy
real wit in music, and would stand no nonsense. They didn’t care a
sixth of their entrance-money for some of the compositions, which
could well have been spared from the programme, but Mozart’s
Village Musicians (a musical joke), created quite a, furore. It was
immense. Mr. A. Burnett, as one of the chief village violinists,
played the part to perfection. How the audience roared when he
seriously got into an impossible key, and had to come back again
somehow. They encored him to the echo, but Mr. Cowen knew that
so delicate a jest would not bear immediate repetition, and wisely
went on with the next movement. The horns perpetually coming in
out of tune evoked shouts of laughter, and the triumphantly discor-
dant finish was greeted with prolonged and enthusiastic applause.
Passing over Miss Mary Davies’ Song, and Weber’s Caprice, we
came to Scherz’s humorous Meditation on a German Air—a bad
title, by the way, as the composition was simply a series of Musical
Burlesque pieces on Bach, Mozart, Mendelssohn, &e.
That on Mozart was the best, as being a caricature of a style:
the Military March was next; and then the Burlesque of Yerdi ;
but, on the whole, there was too little in it of the real spirit of
original caricature, and too much of very ordinary Burlesque talent.
However, it was successful, though anything would have had to be
very first-rate, coming after The Village Musicians.
Then Mrs. Antoinette Sterling sang Molloy’s Nursery Song,
“ The Baby and the Fly.” The only humorous point about this
was the fact that Mrs. Sterling had to sing it. _ A Comic Song for
Mrs. Siddons would have been about as appropriate. _ A good Low
Comedian in petticoats might have done something with it; but as
it was, it served as padding, or being Mr. Molloy’s, as paddy-ing
between Scherz’s Imitations of Popular Composers, and Romberg’s
Toy Symphony. As the Chief of the orchestra entered, bearing
toy-drums, rattles, penny-trumpets, and bird-whistles, they were
greeted with, cheers. The Symphony was successful, chiefly as a
curiosity; and Mr. A. Burnett as the Cuckoo, Mr. Hughes as the
Melancholy Quail, Messrs. Ellis and Reynolds as the Toy
Trumpets, and Messrs. Horton and Ould as agreeable Rattles,
were a real treat.
Then Mr. Rigby sang something, not a word of which reached us,
except one line which sounded like, “ Lift up your fist and hit me
straight in the eye,” but as this could by no possibility have formed
any part of a sentimental song, we only quote our impression of it,
being unable to refer to our programme which had long ago fluttered
away on to the heads of the audience beneath. Then Mr. Charles
Halle having played, as only Mr. Charles Halle can play, Weber’s
“ Invitation a la Valse,” bowed, and retired. Being vociferously
encored, he re-appeared, and, with the modesty of true genius,
evidently convinced that only his graceful bow had been encored, he
repeated that and once more disappeared. But the audience soon
enlightened him as to what they wanted, so he piano’d again, and
once more was vociferously applauded.
Then we had the “ Presto and Finale of Haydn's Farewell
Symphony.” To describe this, which literally brought down the
house, would require more space than is just now at our command.
How the musicians, one by one, blow out their candles and steal
away, how Mr. Burnett is the last to go, how Mr. Cowen, with
his eyes like St. Anthony, “fixed on the old black book,” i.e., the
score, still goes on conducting until a servant jogs his elbow, and
awakens him to the fact that he is in the situation of the last Rose
of Summer, left alone, while all his blooming companions have
slithered away and gone—all this, we say, must be seen to be appre-
ciated,—and, indeed, so marked was the success last Thursday that a
voiceless man (all part of the joke) came forward to announce, that,
in consequence of the immense success of the entertainment, he,
the voiceless man, had great pleasure in informing the audience,—
tho’, personally, he had no voice in the matter,—that this “ Humorous
Night” would be repeated on Tuesday. The voiceless one_ retired
bashfully amid cries of “ Speak up! ” And then those quite close
to the platform who had been in the voiceless man’s confidence all
along, told their neighbours what he had been saying, and so the
news spread. So great a success ought to be repeated more than once
before the end of the season, with some few changes in the programme.
i _
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[September 25, 1880.
III III
1 I 'll 1
1 III
Tim ‘
A QUALIFIED JUDGE.
Squire Horsnail, M.P. {who had been Inspectin' the Board School). “ "Well, good-eye, Childek.
WELD : BUT YEB HAIN’T SOT STILL ! ”
Yep. Reads well, an’ yer Spells
A SUCCESS SCORED AT THE PROMENADE CONCERTS.
We wouldn’t have missed the Humorous Night at the Promenade
Concerts for a trifle—and we ’re very fond of trifle. The house was
cram-jammed from ceiling to floor by an audience that showed itself
decidedly appreciative and strictly critical. They were there to enj oy
real wit in music, and would stand no nonsense. They didn’t care a
sixth of their entrance-money for some of the compositions, which
could well have been spared from the programme, but Mozart’s
Village Musicians (a musical joke), created quite a, furore. It was
immense. Mr. A. Burnett, as one of the chief village violinists,
played the part to perfection. How the audience roared when he
seriously got into an impossible key, and had to come back again
somehow. They encored him to the echo, but Mr. Cowen knew that
so delicate a jest would not bear immediate repetition, and wisely
went on with the next movement. The horns perpetually coming in
out of tune evoked shouts of laughter, and the triumphantly discor-
dant finish was greeted with prolonged and enthusiastic applause.
Passing over Miss Mary Davies’ Song, and Weber’s Caprice, we
came to Scherz’s humorous Meditation on a German Air—a bad
title, by the way, as the composition was simply a series of Musical
Burlesque pieces on Bach, Mozart, Mendelssohn, &e.
That on Mozart was the best, as being a caricature of a style:
the Military March was next; and then the Burlesque of Yerdi ;
but, on the whole, there was too little in it of the real spirit of
original caricature, and too much of very ordinary Burlesque talent.
However, it was successful, though anything would have had to be
very first-rate, coming after The Village Musicians.
Then Mrs. Antoinette Sterling sang Molloy’s Nursery Song,
“ The Baby and the Fly.” The only humorous point about this
was the fact that Mrs. Sterling had to sing it. _ A Comic Song for
Mrs. Siddons would have been about as appropriate. _ A good Low
Comedian in petticoats might have done something with it; but as
it was, it served as padding, or being Mr. Molloy’s, as paddy-ing
between Scherz’s Imitations of Popular Composers, and Romberg’s
Toy Symphony. As the Chief of the orchestra entered, bearing
toy-drums, rattles, penny-trumpets, and bird-whistles, they were
greeted with, cheers. The Symphony was successful, chiefly as a
curiosity; and Mr. A. Burnett as the Cuckoo, Mr. Hughes as the
Melancholy Quail, Messrs. Ellis and Reynolds as the Toy
Trumpets, and Messrs. Horton and Ould as agreeable Rattles,
were a real treat.
Then Mr. Rigby sang something, not a word of which reached us,
except one line which sounded like, “ Lift up your fist and hit me
straight in the eye,” but as this could by no possibility have formed
any part of a sentimental song, we only quote our impression of it,
being unable to refer to our programme which had long ago fluttered
away on to the heads of the audience beneath. Then Mr. Charles
Halle having played, as only Mr. Charles Halle can play, Weber’s
“ Invitation a la Valse,” bowed, and retired. Being vociferously
encored, he re-appeared, and, with the modesty of true genius,
evidently convinced that only his graceful bow had been encored, he
repeated that and once more disappeared. But the audience soon
enlightened him as to what they wanted, so he piano’d again, and
once more was vociferously applauded.
Then we had the “ Presto and Finale of Haydn's Farewell
Symphony.” To describe this, which literally brought down the
house, would require more space than is just now at our command.
How the musicians, one by one, blow out their candles and steal
away, how Mr. Burnett is the last to go, how Mr. Cowen, with
his eyes like St. Anthony, “fixed on the old black book,” i.e., the
score, still goes on conducting until a servant jogs his elbow, and
awakens him to the fact that he is in the situation of the last Rose
of Summer, left alone, while all his blooming companions have
slithered away and gone—all this, we say, must be seen to be appre-
ciated,—and, indeed, so marked was the success last Thursday that a
voiceless man (all part of the joke) came forward to announce, that,
in consequence of the immense success of the entertainment, he,
the voiceless man, had great pleasure in informing the audience,—
tho’, personally, he had no voice in the matter,—that this “ Humorous
Night” would be repeated on Tuesday. The voiceless one_ retired
bashfully amid cries of “ Speak up! ” And then those quite close
to the platform who had been in the voiceless man’s confidence all
along, told their neighbours what he had been saying, and so the
news spread. So great a success ought to be repeated more than once
before the end of the season, with some few changes in the programme.
i _