Punch (79.1880)

Januaby 1, 1881.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 309

PLAYERS AND PAYERS.

I. “ Put Money in thy Purse.”

ir,—Mr. Ruskin has recently addressed some pertinent
JrLT remarks on the subject of Dramatic Reform to the Sec-
ffiji-V retary of the well-meaning but mysterious D.R. Associa-
^ tion. I do not intend to emulate
\ Mr. Rusk in

m On the .Buskin.

|| But there are Reforms and Reforms, in things Theatri-

M cal, no less than in things Political. There is a world

1! before and a world behind the curtain. Of the rare and

1| radiant spirits who people the latter, none but the highly
privileged Few may presume to speak; but in the former
no fool need fear to tread who has the necessary shillings
Jh& in his pocket.

The necessary shillings—in fact, the Needful—which
Ibff brings me at once to my subject, “playhouse prices.”
| Fools or Angels, the unprivileged must all pay; but
though we would naturally range ourselves with my Lord
Mm Beaconseield on the side of the Angels, the thought
'will intrude that we may be something foolish to pay
| through the nose as we do now. As a rule, I notice that
Jfflyf the largest-nosed people don’t pay at all. But this by
the way. ’Tis true a seat at the theatre is not a “ neces-
sary ” (as young Hopeful pleads when he can’t, and Papa
won’t, Pay f°r some pretty freak of Undergraduate
fancy), and no one expects a dinner at the “ Star and
itwnPwi! barter” for the price of a chop at the “Cock.” But
WffjMfl ^-an> though born to sorrow, is willing enough to barter
his birthright when he can. Even the most grave and
reverend of us like to unbend and stretch our legs some-
times—though the stalls of our theatres are, to be sure,
11 ilSJ the places to do anything rather than stretch our legs,
a jjfl'/If frut °t this hereafter—and it is really becoming a serious
l/l'/llf question how much longer we, the great unprivileged
i/l'/l 1 and Poor relations of the Mammon Family may afford to
/If 1/1)1 delude the theatre among our “stock of harmless
1 Mill J Pleasures.”

// JJIltlJ It was Idle little High-and-Mitey Theatre that in-
i’ JrnIJ I uugurated these extravagant prices, in the days when

Ml 1 ^ began to wax fat and splendid under that aristo-

Hi/ i cratic patronage which it has ever since courted so ex-
Wji |! clusively, and, let it be said, so successfully. The High-
f / 1 and-Mitey became what our friend ’Arry calls “quite
j/lJf JU the Stilton.” Of course its rivals followed suit, and now
llfLS those houses where a stall may be bought for less than
half-a-guinea —even after a pilgrimage to the box-office
to avoid the fees of the Libraries—might be counted on
“All-of-a the fingers of one hand. Five shillings—he need be no
Twist.” grandfather to remember when a stall cost no more than
that — then seven shillings, now half-a-guinea,—to-morrow how
much ? Like Shelley’s skylark, higher and higher the»price mounts.

You will answer, my good Managers—and very good Managers
you undoubtedly are—that any tradesman (only you would probably
use some less vulgar word) is a fool who sells for five shillings an
article which will command ready purchasers at ten. Granted; and
let it be granted, too, that Sir Gorgius Midas, your great patron
and friend, would not deign to consign his lordly person to a seat
rated at no higher value than a dirty five shillings. To him the more
costly the entertainment, the more exquisite its beauty. What
constituted, in his eyes, the greatest charm of the gifted Sarah?
Unquestionably the price he had to pay to look at her. But recollect
that Sir Gorgius, though a very splendid creature while he lasts, is
apt to be of a somewhat volatile essence. Like his grammar, he is an
uncertain quantity. Your real strength, after all, lies in us, the
Great Unprivileged, not in the “ Upper Ten,” the gilded few.

We are like the Dutch, perhaps you say; we ask too much and wish
to give too little. Look at all the splendour around you, you cry:
the magnificent stall you sit in, with its glittering monogram: the
beautiful draperies, the gilding, the paintings on the walls, busts in
the lobbies, rare shrubs on the landings, picture galleries, smoking
saloons, with marble tables and soft couches: luxury and art every-
where, and all for the ridiculously small sum of ten shillings-and-
sixpence! Precisely so. But, my worthy Managers, where is the
need of all these pretty things in a theatre ? Is it for these we, the
Unprivileged, go to the playhouse ? If we want pictures, remember
there is a tolerably good, collection in Trafalgar Square, which we
can see for nothing: and all manner of beautiful, and strange, and
costly things at South Kensington that may be inspected any day
for very little more. Give us a clean house, a comfortable seat, and
a good play, and don’t charge for needless upholstery. We little
folk are not used to all this magnificence; it makes us dissatisfied with
our humble lot. And I take leave to doubt whether the great folk

care as much about it as you think. They have plenty of it at home,
you see, and the genuine article. Don’t you remember when Lord
Steyne dined with the King, what George the Magnificent gave his
noble guest ? Gad! a neck of mutton and turnips, and how pleased
that splendid nobleman, with his heaven knows how many French
cooks, was with his humble fare ?

‘ ‘ If we choose to spend our money thus on the outside of the cup
and platter,” retort Messieurs the Managers, “ what is that to you ?
It is our risk, not yours.” Fair and softly, my friends. Has not he
who pays the piper some right to call the tune ? It is your own
risk, certainly; but who supplies you with the funds to run it ?
Deeper and deeper go your fingers into our pockets to pay for all
these pretty gew-gaws. If we must spend our money, surely we
have a voice in the selection of the article ? And we, the public, the
Great Unprivileged, are a little wiser than you take us for. You are
safe enough, you think, in the rivalry of competition, and perhaps
you are; but this is a world of reaction, and if some simple spirit
should arise to jireach the doctrine that “ the play’s the thing,” and
should give old Paterfamilias as comfortable a seat for himself and
his belongings, and quite as good, may be a better, entertainment
for a much smaller sum than that for which you undertake to sur-
round him with the very latest gimcrackery from the Upholsterers
and Wardour Street, and from the Studios of Unappreciated Talent
what will Paterfamilias do ?

For the present—the Christmas present—allow me, being but a
poor old Boy, to subscribe myself—I can’t subscribe much more—
yours hopefully, Oliver Twist.

SONGS OF THE SCIENCES.-!!. ASTRONOMY.

£ke and
the Bear.

Then look at the Sun, and we ’ll learn, to begin, it’s
A distance of ninety-one millions of miles;

But light does the journey in under nine minutes,

Which beats all express trains that run in these isles.

We learn, too, his force must be daily diminish’d,

That curious spots oft appear on his face,

And Thomson says one day the sun will be finish’d,

And roll, a “ cold black ball,” through infinite space.

We ’ll find out the reason of total eclipses,

When, strangely, the Moon seems to eat up the Sun,

We ’ll see how the Planets whirl round in ellipses,

And how the four Seasons are duly begun.

How ages ago the fair Moon was volcanic,

As those can observe who through telescopes look,

And, certes, the craters are truly Titanic,

As figured by Nasmyth in Loceyer’s book.

Then gaze on each Nebula’s wonderful pattern,

And watch the hot Comets go flaring away ;

We’ve measured Jove’s moons and the queer rings of Saturn,
But own that we ’re puzzled by Mercury’s day.

Then ponder the Planets, their paths and dimensions,

Astronomy’s surely a science sublime :

We ’ll soar o’er the world with its cares and dissensions,

And henceforward live by Sidereal Time!

Von. 79.

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