Punch (90.1886)

January 23, 1886.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 37

"JACK'S ALIVE!"

(About ths Gaiety, from "Niblet."')

Sir,—Mr. Holllngshead's "sacred lamp" is flaring up once
more. The daring Duumvirate, Messrs. Stephens and Yardley,

/

T V

Les Deux A-Jacks!

havo followed the traditions of previous " sacred lamp-oil-and-local-
colour-men," at the Gaiety, and produced a rattling and rollicking
show. There are some old jokelets and an old tune or so, but 1
rejoice to add, old faces in it as well. There are our old friends the
unhappy Cobbler and Cricketer puns that are ruthlessly and remorse-
lessly worked out to the "last," and the "wicket," Once a fine old
paternal pun of this sort sets off, do we not instinctively know that
its sistere and cousins and aunts are crowding after it, and because I
give an instant's laughing welcome to a dear old familiar joke, I
don t see why I should be forced to entertain all its poor relations.
Again, with all profound aesthetic respect for our " Oscar," I do not
see what point is gained by his harmless name being inserted between
_ Jonathan " and "Wild." Still, as there was necessarily a Wild
in the story, the temptation to bring in Oscar was, I suppose,
irresistible.

Miss Farren, as far as the Gaiety is concerned, has been a-resting
herself, and it is rather hard on her that, on her return, she should
be so frequently arrested as she is when playing, as she only can do
it, Jack Sheppard. She conies back to pastures old, bringing an
excellent tail behind her; for indeed we must go back to the
Misses Constance Loseby and Tremaine period to find such a
singing company as is now gathered together on these boards.
The scenery is effective, specially The Housetops; but here, where
there was excellent opportunity for practical
fun, the chance is lost, and except for Mr.
Leslie sitting on the spikes of the prison
wall, nothing is done to raise a smile,—at least
as Dr. Barnardo, or Bucellas, or one of those
gentlemen in Hamlet who saw the Ghost, says,
?1 Not when I saw it! "

Mdlles. Marion Hood, Wadjian, and Mr.
Leslie are a tuneful triad, and raise the show
to operatic level. Its descriptive title is not
peculiarly happy; they call it a Burlesque

Blueskin's, and accepted the sensible social warning conveyed to
them, to be sure that all is their own as they touchesses," as they
rolled home in their gilded chariots, singing " Tooral, li-oural,
ti-oddity." Mr. James is too subdued and subfuse. "Blue-devils"
need not necessarily attend "Blue-skin" and if this capital actor
doesn't mean to pose as a burlesque "Melancholy Jacques-James,"
or "Dismal Jemmy," he must put aside memories of comedy successes,
be jovial as he can be, and as for that wig, and fixings generally,
"Blew the lot! " Miss Wadman is brilliant and earnest as Thames
Ban-ell; indeed the brightness and tunefulness throughout are
mainly due to her. Miss Hood looks like a delicate medieval
maiden stolen from a stained-glass window, and is sweet and saintly.
Mr. Leslie might easily be mistaken in make-up and manner for
Mr. Terry, only he'has the advantage over the latter in singing, as
his decision and clear crackling voice are of the highest possible
value; and so are his crackling fingers. Mr. Odell's disguise is
funny, but he is indistinct, and his method is desperately decrepit.
A dance by Mr. Willie Warde and Miss Silvia Grey is one of the
best things in the piece. Paterfamilias need have no fear of a visit
to this happy Sheppard turning out a boy-burglar, or a nursery
highway mannikin. _

SOMETHING ROTTEN IN THE STATE OF DENMARK ROAD.

If any patriotic Briton, proud of his country's "crowning common
sense," desires to demonstrate it to any Intelligent Foreigner of his
acquaintance, let him take that Intelligent Foreigner—thickly shod,
and carefully mackintoshed—to the " Approach," as it is humorously
called, leading from Denmark Road to the Camberwell Railway
Station. If the I. F. is not astonished, it will be clear that he has
resided for some time in our " City of Dreadful Dirt," and, like the
bulk of its long-suffering Citizens, has grown absolutely proof
against astonishment of any kind.

This Approach—excellent joke that!—combines the varied ad-
vantages of a Dismal Swamp, a Dust Yard, and a Drain. It is
divided—conventionally, and for the fun of the thing—into roadway
and footpath. It is not possible, however, to determine either where
one begins and the other ends, or which of the two is the more
dismally detestable. The chronic condition of each may be^ described
as Slush. Sometimes the Slush is sticky, sometimes it is sloppy,
but, in all but the very driest or frostiest weather, it is always Slush.
After long-continued drought or frost, it is occasionally improved
into a boulder-sprinkled dust-heap, or a hummocked ice-field.
When, in its quagmire condition, the roadway becomes absolutely
impassable, some one pitches a lot of stones and shards pell-mell into
the mud thereof, to be trodden in by such traffic as is unhappily com-
pelled to pass that way. When the footway gets more than ankle-
deep in mire, a feeble-looking official is to be seen scooping damp
drift from the road, which he plasters over the path, pats down with
a shovel, and leaves to be reduced to slime by the first rainfall.

The Camberwell folk may like it, at any rate (and the Rates are not
exceptionally low) they seem to put up with it, But the wayfarer
who alights casually at the Camberwell Station will not be so easily
pleasedf But then what can he do? Borrow a shovel, and begin
the work himself ? Perhaps this is the humorous idea of The
Authorities." ——————=============-

Mission to Deep-Sea Fishermen.-TMs sounds practical Of
course the deeper the Sea-fishermen the greater the need of the
Mission._____-

Tttf usual Ball of Rejoicing was held by. the Frozen-Out Fox
hunters, on the first night of the thaw This time-honoured festivity
is always calledThe Melton Snow Ball.

Operatic-Melodrama. It isn't a melodrama j HIS LAST APPEARANCE,

and it burlesques nothing. It is an opera-
bouffe rmre and simple,—which cannot be said
for most operas-bouffes,—and there is no need

of polyglot pother about its christening. How-
ever, the story, as far as Jack is concerned, is
well told ; but the Thames Darrell and Wini-
frid Wood part is a trifle misty.

Its music, like the society in the " Cave of
Harmony," is somewhat mixed, and I am not
sure that it was wise to turn on the "Seven
Champion Composers of Choral Christendom."
Thames Darrell, you Still, it did my heart good to hear our one boy,
are my DarreUing! " our james " rolling out the old song sung in
the melodrama of long long ago. By the way,
this very ancient song, first sung in the original drama of Jack Shep-
pard at the Adelphi, obtained five genuine encores; so, j udging by this,
where was the use of engaging the Seven Champion Composers, whose
united efforts don't come to much beyond prettmess ? All the young
"Dookes and Doochesses" in the stalls warmed to this ditty of

vol. xc.

In behalf of an excellent charity, HR.H Duke Orpheus,

Admiral-m-Clnei of the Mediter

ran can Fleet, once more drew bow
at St. James's Hall last Saturday
night. Bravely did our gallant
Admiral lead the amateur orches-
tra ; daringly did he alone engage
in a hand-to-hand combat with a
Xobby-ligato, whence, to the great
delight of the Snobby-ligati, he
issued undefeated. Sharps and
flats fell before him, till the last
bar was reached in triumph
BravissimoJ it was a thrilling
light. We may mention inciden-
tally that the vocal accompani-
ment was sung by a somebody
Rehearsing. called Madame Albani.