Punch: Punch (87.1884)

64

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [August 9, 1834.

KEATS AT CANNON STREET.

In a drear-nighted November,
Oh, far from happy Peers,

Your benches ne’er remember
Being vexed with strident
cheers.

No Party “Whip” could gall
you,

Nor harm, of yore, befall you,
No Autumn Session call you
From lire- and country-side.

In a drear-nighted November,
Unhappy House of C.,

Thy least-deserving Member
Could once escape from thee;

! For, with a sweet forgetting,
They stayed their constant fret-
ting,

All national interests letting
Unanimously slide.

Ah! would ’twere so this Autumn
With Peers and Members too !
But Press and Mob have taught
’em

The thing that they must do.
“We know the change, and feel it,
But who on earth can heal it ? ”
Says Salisbury, “ or conceal it,
At least, till Weg subside ?”

LETTERS TO SOME PEOPLE

{About Other People's Business. To the Author of “ Confusion ” about
“ The Private Secretary” at the Globe.)

My beak Mr. Debrick,

Excuse my addressing you Derrickly without any previous
introduction, but, being aware that you have been engaged during
the past three or four months on the production of Twins at the
Olympic, where they will have all the attention that the Manageress,
Mrs. Conover, can bestow upon them, and have had your time fully
occupied in writin’ and rehearsin’, and rehearsin’ Righton,—who,
ere this appears, will have performed a “ divided duty,” in playing
his own double, and being two single Gentlemen rolled into one,—I
say, knowing what a state of Yaudevillianous Confusion you must
have been in, I assume it as impossible that you should have been
able to “ steal a few hours from the night, my lad,” wherein to visit
the Globe, and see The Private Secretary, which has now passed its
1100th Night. Le petit bonhomme vit encore—and with such signs
of life that it is quite on the cards, and on the double-crown posters,
too, for us to hear of his attaining the age of Our Boys, or something
near it. It is a strange history, this, of The Private Secretary, and
in itself a lesson to Managers, Actors, and Dramatic Authors.

Your own Confusion came up quietly, and the fact that it was a
success grew upon the theatre-going public gradually. Nita's First
was started at a Matinee, and then the child was allowed to sit up at
night, and became one of the funniest babies in London. But I am
sure when you have seen The Private Secretary as it is now re-
arranged, cast, and acted, you will say, “ If I were not Derrick, I

The Private Sec’tary ; or, O-Penley Hill-arious!

would be Hawtrey,” though your noble nature will not grudge
him the success which he, with his most valuable assistants, has
obtained.

The Private Secretary, at the Prince’s, was a first-night failure.
A few thought that there was “stuff” in it; the majority were
agreed as to the “ stuff’’—but doubted the quality of the material.
The Bill was thrown out of the Upper House,—the Prince’s,—and
taken to the Globe, where cast and construction were alike changed ;
the first slightly, the latter considerably. An Act was cut out bodily,
I am informed, dialogue was reduced, stage-business was developed,
and the consequence was that the business at the Box-office and the
Libraries developed at the same time ; and now, in spite of Health-
eries and hot weather, the Globe is full every night, the laughter is

incessant and hearty, and tout le monde is pleased en bloc, or, rather,
“ in globoP

What do they laugh at ? Simply at the sight of Mr. Hill, a stout,
Eccentric Uncle, with tastes as robust as himself, mistaking a poor
little Verdant-Green kind of mild young Curate for his larky go-
ahead Nephew, whom he has never seen. The real Nephew, to
escape duns, goes to a country house as The Private Secretary, occu-
pying the situation for which the mild young Curate had been
engaged. This is the peg on which the piece hangs—though I
will not use the word “ hangs,” as it never hangs for a minute, at
all events, not while Mr. Hill and Penley are together on the stage.

A ‘‘ Tabula Basa.”

I

Their business is immense ; and the contrast between them is so
strikingly ridiculous, that if there were no dialogue at all, the action
would be quite sufficient to keep you in fits of laughter—certainly
during the First Act and most of the Second.

Mrs. Leigh Murray plays admirably, and what she makes of
the sympathetic landlady adds materially to the success of the piece.
The character is somewhat of a novelty. Mr. Julian Cross’s Gibson,
the tailor who wants to get into Society, is very good, and, con-
sidering the farcical nature of the piece, not trop charge. The
young ladies Miss Feathkrstone and Miss Millett are, you will
immediately acknowledge, charming, and uncommonly like some
young ladies in country houses who love their neighbour to the
extent of playing practical jokes on him.

Mr. A. Beaumont, as the M.F.H. in pink, looks with supreme in- i
difference on the comic business around him, and is evidently regret-
ting the Lyceum, as he murmurs Shakspearian quotations to him-
self. He looks his best—but he is not the jolly Old. English Squire—
only an amateur English Squire. His appearance suggests the Doge
of Venice on a visit to an English sporting friend, goodnaturedly
trying to accommodate himself to our manners, customs, and fashion
of wearing the hair. You, as a penetrating Author, would not be
surprised were some one to rush in at the end, and say that a will
had been found in the tailor’s overcoat which declared that the
Nephew was the rightful heir, and Mr. Beaumont was somebody else
in disguise. However, this doesn’t happen, and Mr. C. H. Hawtrey,
Actor and Author, marries one of the young ladies—I forget which—•
but this is a detail—and the Impostor Squire says, patriarchaily,

“ There, take her, you dog ! ” and all ends happily.

Mrs. Stephens as the Spiritualistic Aunt is invaluable.

You, as a worker of comic plots, are nothing if not critical, and
you will at once put your finger on the weak point of this piece and
ask, first, “Why dress Mr. Penley as a Curate?” to which the
answer will be, “ Because it is so much more effective, and suggests
the mild and placid character of the little man.” Good. Then you
will ask, “ But_, if the Uncle has never seen his Nephew, but is only
aware of his being in London studying (for what ? Law or Church ?)
he would be surprised to find that he has been already ordained, and
his first question would be as to “when he had become a Clergy-
man ? ”

Of course, the Nephew’s answer, adroitly managed, might tend to
add to the muddle, and then even this objection pould not have been
made. But that the Eccentric Uncle should suddenly discover that
he has for a Nephew a full-fledged Parson, and yet make no remark
upon it, is just what you, my dear Sir, as an Author of farcical
pieces yourself, would at once spot as a palpable defect, and one. so
easily remedied as to astonish you that it was never observed during
writing, or during rehearsal.

But, my dear Sir, you mustn’t be too hard on it, and where all is
fun and frolic, and when the laughter is hearty and uproarious,—oh, !
whaL. a blessed thing it is to get a good laugh! and I cried at Penley
and Hill together,—it is ungracious to inquire too closely into the
means by which the end is obtained. Success to your Twins, and
when you’ve started them, and have had a night’s rest, you go for
another night’s enjoyment to the Globe, and thank your sincere j
admirer and well-wisher, Nibbs.