DOI Heft:
May 17, 1884
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17756#0236
230
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [May 17, 1884.
“ Why ! ” he exclaimed, “ as I live they
have cut out one of the best Scenes in the
piece!—I mean where Jack disowns his
own father, calls himself Mr. Saunderson,
and says that the sword he is taking with
him with which to light his duel, is intended
as a bauble for Lydia ! Oh, I protest it is
too bad! But perhaps they know that the
Gentleman cast for the part is not suffi-
ciently rollicksome for the situation ! ”
My friend had become so indignant that
I was quite delighted when the Curtain fell
for the last time, and we were thus able to
leave the theatre.
‘‘ I am glad it is over,” he said when we
had got into the street again. “ But it was
very trying. What made the success of
the piece when it was first produced was its
bustle, liveliness, and constant change of
scene. As to ‘ heightening the effect of the
Author’s play without encumbering its
action ’ (to quote the playbill), that is all
nonsense. The constant ‘ business ’ of the
supernumeraries carried on while the prin-
cipals are talking, distracts the attention
to such a degree that it is quite impossible
to follow the dialogue. But there, it is
over ! I had to suffer this heavy infliction
to regain the perfect Elysium, and I have
undergone my punishment. But oh, it was
hard to bear—very hard to bear ! ”
“Why, who are you?” I asked, not
understanding the latter part of his speech.
The form of my companion gradually
faded away, but I heard his voice answering,
“ Richard Brinsley Sheridan ! ”
WHO WAS HIS HATTER?
Mr. Bancroft wrote last week to the
papers to explain why the Upper-box-dress-
circle Pittites and Galleryites hissed on the
first night of The Rivals. They had been
rained on and were shelterless. Mr. Ban-
croft explained why he couldn’t give them
shelter, because, while making the shelter,
he had been compelled to pay, as he alleges
he was forced to do, £600 for letting a mere
iron pole fall on somebody’s hat. Yet Mr.
Bancroft makes no allusion to the head
beneath the hat in question; and the ex-
cellent way in which its owner managed his
business share in the transaction certainly
looks as if it had received no sort of
damage. Why, then, £600 for a hat ? Is
it possible that the Management of the Hay-
market, always bent on doing everything in
the best style, and quite royally, contrived
to get the matter treated as a crown case
reserved. This would have added, no doubt,
to the costs. The matter is brimfull of
interest.
As Clear as Crystal.
THE HONEYMOON.
Wife (after a little “ tiff"). “But you Love me, Dear”—[sniff)—“still?”
Husband (“ Gross old thing! ”). “Oh Lor’, yes, the Stiller the better!”
I am as much disappointed with the Gentlemen as with the Ladies. Certainly Mr. Bancroft
is^capable as Faalkland, and plays remarkably well, but I am sure the Author never intended
Young Absolute to be a mincing, posturing Macaroni, nor Rob Acres to appear as a grimacing,
capering, and half-witted country lout.”
The next two Acts were passed in ‘ ‘ the Tea-room of the Hew Rooms.” Again my companion
declared that the Comedy was being changed into a ballet of action. He was not in the
least impressed with the supers playing at cards, and the grace of the Master of the
{ Ceremonies.
j “ It is indeed ridiculous that all these incidents should be jumbled up together in the Hew
j Rooms,” he observed after we had had the meeting of Miss and her lover, the quarrel-scene
with Faulkland and Julia, and the writing of Bob Acres1 letter ; “ and if Mr. Bancroft and
Mr. Pinero are indeed responsible for the ‘ strict preservation of the text,’ I wonder they allow
i gagging by the representatives of Sir Anthony and ‘Fighting Bob.’”
I could not but admit that my companion had some reason for his complaint, although, no
doubt, the interpolations may have been sanctioned by tradition. His indignation, however,
. culminated when we got to the last Act, showing King’s-Mead-Fields.
This is an age of Exhibitions. We have
collections of this, that, and t’other every-
where. But perhaps one of the best is at
the same time one of the oldest. The
Crystal Palace at Sydenham by its form
recalls the Palace of Crystal of 1851, the
father of all Exhibitions. The family tra-
dition has been preserved. At this moment
“Our one sight for foreigners” is filled
with an admirable collection of the trea-
sures of the modern world—glass from
Austria, furniture from Holland, and pretty
things from everywhere. In a word, “ The
International Exhibition of 1884 ” is being
held at Sydenham, and heartily deserves
success. If Londoners have the slightest
claim to discrimination and taste, it will
attain it.
Nihilism of the Worst Nature.—
Doing nothing for Gordon.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [May 17, 1884.
“ Why ! ” he exclaimed, “ as I live they
have cut out one of the best Scenes in the
piece!—I mean where Jack disowns his
own father, calls himself Mr. Saunderson,
and says that the sword he is taking with
him with which to light his duel, is intended
as a bauble for Lydia ! Oh, I protest it is
too bad! But perhaps they know that the
Gentleman cast for the part is not suffi-
ciently rollicksome for the situation ! ”
My friend had become so indignant that
I was quite delighted when the Curtain fell
for the last time, and we were thus able to
leave the theatre.
‘‘ I am glad it is over,” he said when we
had got into the street again. “ But it was
very trying. What made the success of
the piece when it was first produced was its
bustle, liveliness, and constant change of
scene. As to ‘ heightening the effect of the
Author’s play without encumbering its
action ’ (to quote the playbill), that is all
nonsense. The constant ‘ business ’ of the
supernumeraries carried on while the prin-
cipals are talking, distracts the attention
to such a degree that it is quite impossible
to follow the dialogue. But there, it is
over ! I had to suffer this heavy infliction
to regain the perfect Elysium, and I have
undergone my punishment. But oh, it was
hard to bear—very hard to bear ! ”
“Why, who are you?” I asked, not
understanding the latter part of his speech.
The form of my companion gradually
faded away, but I heard his voice answering,
“ Richard Brinsley Sheridan ! ”
WHO WAS HIS HATTER?
Mr. Bancroft wrote last week to the
papers to explain why the Upper-box-dress-
circle Pittites and Galleryites hissed on the
first night of The Rivals. They had been
rained on and were shelterless. Mr. Ban-
croft explained why he couldn’t give them
shelter, because, while making the shelter,
he had been compelled to pay, as he alleges
he was forced to do, £600 for letting a mere
iron pole fall on somebody’s hat. Yet Mr.
Bancroft makes no allusion to the head
beneath the hat in question; and the ex-
cellent way in which its owner managed his
business share in the transaction certainly
looks as if it had received no sort of
damage. Why, then, £600 for a hat ? Is
it possible that the Management of the Hay-
market, always bent on doing everything in
the best style, and quite royally, contrived
to get the matter treated as a crown case
reserved. This would have added, no doubt,
to the costs. The matter is brimfull of
interest.
As Clear as Crystal.
THE HONEYMOON.
Wife (after a little “ tiff"). “But you Love me, Dear”—[sniff)—“still?”
Husband (“ Gross old thing! ”). “Oh Lor’, yes, the Stiller the better!”
I am as much disappointed with the Gentlemen as with the Ladies. Certainly Mr. Bancroft
is^capable as Faalkland, and plays remarkably well, but I am sure the Author never intended
Young Absolute to be a mincing, posturing Macaroni, nor Rob Acres to appear as a grimacing,
capering, and half-witted country lout.”
The next two Acts were passed in ‘ ‘ the Tea-room of the Hew Rooms.” Again my companion
declared that the Comedy was being changed into a ballet of action. He was not in the
least impressed with the supers playing at cards, and the grace of the Master of the
{ Ceremonies.
j “ It is indeed ridiculous that all these incidents should be jumbled up together in the Hew
j Rooms,” he observed after we had had the meeting of Miss and her lover, the quarrel-scene
with Faulkland and Julia, and the writing of Bob Acres1 letter ; “ and if Mr. Bancroft and
Mr. Pinero are indeed responsible for the ‘ strict preservation of the text,’ I wonder they allow
i gagging by the representatives of Sir Anthony and ‘Fighting Bob.’”
I could not but admit that my companion had some reason for his complaint, although, no
doubt, the interpolations may have been sanctioned by tradition. His indignation, however,
. culminated when we got to the last Act, showing King’s-Mead-Fields.
This is an age of Exhibitions. We have
collections of this, that, and t’other every-
where. But perhaps one of the best is at
the same time one of the oldest. The
Crystal Palace at Sydenham by its form
recalls the Palace of Crystal of 1851, the
father of all Exhibitions. The family tra-
dition has been preserved. At this moment
“Our one sight for foreigners” is filled
with an admirable collection of the trea-
sures of the modern world—glass from
Austria, furniture from Holland, and pretty
things from everywhere. In a word, “ The
International Exhibition of 1884 ” is being
held at Sydenham, and heartily deserves
success. If Londoners have the slightest
claim to discrimination and taste, it will
attain it.
Nihilism of the Worst Nature.—
Doing nothing for Gordon.