DOI Heft:
February 5, 1887
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17657#0074
64
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [February 5, 1887.
PICKING UP THE PIECES
Mr. Punch. I am glad to hear they are going to revive Tom
Taylor's play of Clancarty at the Haymarket
Mr. Nihhs. Yes. Mrs. Ken-
dal ought to he an admir-
able Lady Clancarty.
Mr. Punch. No better. It
was a stirring play, as I
recollect it.
Mr. Nibbs. Tom Taylor
did good work for the stage.
Mr. Punch. Yes, he was a
thorough dramatist.
Mr. Nibbs. But not always
original.
Mr. Punch. Seldom, I
shouldsay. Butwhatdoesthat
matter? The greatest dra-
matists and the greatest com-
posers have all cribbed the
materials on which their
genius has exercised itself.
His dialogue was telling, sturdy and frequently humorous. There
was a " go," too, even about his rough blank verse which served his
dramatic purpose.
Mr. Nibbs. What set you thinking of this, Sir ?
Mr. Punch. Partly the announcement about Clancarty at the
St. James's, and partly having recently seen Mr. Henry Autbor
Jones's Hard Hit at the Haymarket.
Mr. Nibbs. I have seen it also. It struck me that Hard Hit was
no hit at all
Mr. Punch. It has this one unpardonable fault—it is dull. If it
were bad, there might be some question as to its degree of badness,
or some discussion as to which Act were the worst. But there is no
room for discussion or for dispute where a play is simply and unde-
niably dull.
Mr. Nibbs. There is one effective situation in the Fourth Act
where the husband hides behind a curtain._
Mr. Punch. Yes, but nothing comes of it, as he disappears only to
meet somebody in the passage who clears up the difficulty. As to
the situation in the Third Act, it is the Screen Scene spoiled, just
as Mr. Beerbohm Tree's character is a compound of Captain
Hawksley and Joseph Surface, both spoiled, and Mrs. Ashby, is a
commonplace adaptation of Lady Sneerwell.
Mr. Nibbs. I see exactly what you mean, Sir. I thought the
actors very good in it altogether.
Mr. Punch. So good, that I would rather have seen them out of
it altogether, though had an actress like Miss Sophie Eyre been
cast for Mrs. Ashby, the piece might perhaps have gained by it.
Mr. Tree's make up is admirable ; a trifle trop charge, perhaps.
Mr. Nibbs. I thought Mr. Kesible capital as the garrulous Major.
Mr. Punch. And Mr. Coutts, a name unknown to me on the
Btage scored most decidedly as the little used-up masher the
Honourable Effingham Nangle. _ But why on earth did Mr. Jones
make the host, introduce this 'personage to his guests as "the
Honourable ? " Is it a new fashion in society ?
Mr. Nibbs. Perhaps Mr. Jones wishes to start it; but as the piece
has been out barely for three weeks, "Society" has not yet had
time to adopt the novelty. And perhaps you noticed, Sir, that to in-
tensify the absurdity, the gentleman described as " The Honour-
able " was being introduced to a real Baronet,
Mr. Punch. Impersonated by Mr. Archer who looked as if he had
stepped out of an illustration to a story in Reynolds's Miscellany. I
liked Mr. Willard, he was excellently made-up and acted remarkably
well; but though it sounds paradoxical, he is best when he is bad.
Once let an actor acquire a reputation on the stage for being a villain
and the public will never believe in his conversion. Mr. Dacre is
another paradoxical person.
Mr. Nibbs. How so ?
.Mr. Punch. He is physically a "slantingdicular" actor, who
with a bias to the right "can't go straight." He was better suitedas
Jim the Penman.
Mr. Nibbs. And Jim suited the public better than Hard Hit is
ever likely to do.
Mr. Punch. It was hard on Hard Hit to follow Jim, just as the
enormous success of the Private Secretary told against The Pick-
pocket, and the Pickpocket, m its degree, against Lodgers, which is
poor stuff, though at all events one can have two or three good
hearty laughs at Messrs. Penley and Hill.
Mr. Nibbs. No such luck at the Haymarket, where you can neither
laugh nor cry.
Mr. Punch. No, and an audience neither amused nor harrowed
becomes mildly indifferent or_ conspicuously bored. Mr. Jones left
to himself, without any of his former collaborateurs, like the last
rose of Summer blooming alone, fails in construction. That is, as far
as I can judge, as I have never yet seen one of his pieces where he
was sole author. His dialogue is plain and straightforward enough
for a melodrama like the Noble Vagabond, and in that only up to
the middle of the Third Act, when the muddle begins. But compare
Hard Hit with Tour Taylor's Still Waters, and then you'll see
what might have been done in dialogue and construction with even
such old materials as Mr. Jones has got together.
Mr. Nibbs. Oddly enough, Sir, throughout Hard Hit they are
always talking about a " Still Waters Company Limited."
Mr. Punch. Perhaps that is what recalled the old piece to my
mind. However, it is sufficiently well-known nowadays among
play-going amateurs for them to appreciate the force of my observa^
tions. I have yet to see Mr. Pinero's new piece at the Court.
Mr. Nibbs. And the latest at the Royalty.
Mr. Punch. Both very amusing as I am told. I hear that our
friend Augustus Druriolanus is to rule over Covent Garden as well
as Drury Lane. More worlds to conquer! He has shown himself
uncommonly clever at Old Drury, and we all wish him success. An
plaisir !
" HIS HIGHNESS !"
Robson as the Showman in the farce of Catching a Mermaid, used
to call out, "Walk up and see the Giant! Alive! alive! alive!
He's eight foot high, he's nine foot high, he's ten foot high!"'
" Why, father," said a boy, "the carawan ain't ten foot high!
"He'sa sittin' down, stoopid! Walk up ! Walk up! " and here at
the Pavilion every night may be seen this tremendously tall man,
eight feet nine inches high, so they say, not ungainly for a Giant,
and looking as amiable as Giants always do outside books of fairy
tales, and apart from Pantomimic tradition. If any one were justified
in preserving a lofty demeanour it would be Herb Winkelmeier ;
hut he is polite to all, and affable with the lowliest.
Mr. Villiers, Junior, showed us the great man's suite of apart-
ments, and they certainly have "done him," very well at the
Pavilion. His Highness—doesn't he deserve the title which
Mr. Punch hereby bestows on him ?—contrives to amuse himself
in the day-time by playing at draughts, and trying to make Mr.
Edward Swanborough, the Acting Manager, understand what
he 'means. The Giant only speaks German, and Mr. Swanborough
is limited to English.
The Pavilion Management are not averse to letting him out, though
if they " let him out" much, they would have to raise the roof. They
may loan him to some exhibition, but at present they are quite content
with his height, and don't want him to be higher'd anywhere else.
The Acrobats at the Pavilion are marvellous, and if a few of the
feats—arms and legs as well—of the Letine and Schafeer Troupes,
were introduced into a burlesque, and performed by some of the
regular actors, the novelty would draw the town. We have lately
seen how a tenor, Mr. Lely, can overcome all difficulties and dance a
horn-pipe, and it is a pity that Mr. Gsossmith or Mr. Baeringion,
as the first and second Bad Baronets, did not bestow some time on
acquiring one or two of the tricks of the Eatsnoshin Awata, which
would have lightened up their parts in the Second Act, amazingly;
but perhaps they '11 keep it for the Indian burlesque Opera, when
they can appear as the Bounding India-Rubber Brothers. In the
meantime a visit to the Pavilion will astonish the idler, interest the
anatomist, and amuse the Democritical observer.
"WHO SHALL DECIDE WHEN DOCTORS DISAGREE?"
Dear Mr. Punch,
I have not been very well lately, so I thought I would con-
sult that eminent physician Dr. A. The first thing he said to me
was, "What do you drink ? " (if he had said what don't you drink,
it would perhaps have been more to the purpose.) "Oh," I said,
"things in general, anything that's handy." "The very worst
thing you can do ; you should take nothing hut a couple of glasses of
dry Sherry with your dinner." I followed his prescription for some
time, and getting no better, I resolved to see that distinguished
practitioner Dr. B. He immediately asked me what I drank—you
would think from their questions I was an habitual drunkard—I said
"only a little dry Sherry." "What!" exclaimed Dr. B., "dry
Sherry ? That accounts for it. You must take nothing but a pint
of dry Champagne." I tried this for a week and, finding myself
still out of sorts, I called upon the distinguished Dr. C. Of course
the usual question. And when I replied "a pint of dry Champagne ! "
he jumped. "Poison, my dear Sir, noison! No wonder you're
out of sorts. Now, if you take nothing but a pint of Leoville—
the very best Leoville mind you,—we shall soon put you on your
legs again! " I tried this remedy for a fortnight—for I rather
liked it—but found no improvement whatever in my health.
So on the recommendation of an old friend, I called on the fashion-
able Dr. D. The usual question, and then Dr. D. exclaimed, " You
should never taste a drop of wine of any description. Take the best
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [February 5, 1887.
PICKING UP THE PIECES
Mr. Punch. I am glad to hear they are going to revive Tom
Taylor's play of Clancarty at the Haymarket
Mr. Nihhs. Yes. Mrs. Ken-
dal ought to he an admir-
able Lady Clancarty.
Mr. Punch. No better. It
was a stirring play, as I
recollect it.
Mr. Nibbs. Tom Taylor
did good work for the stage.
Mr. Punch. Yes, he was a
thorough dramatist.
Mr. Nibbs. But not always
original.
Mr. Punch. Seldom, I
shouldsay. Butwhatdoesthat
matter? The greatest dra-
matists and the greatest com-
posers have all cribbed the
materials on which their
genius has exercised itself.
His dialogue was telling, sturdy and frequently humorous. There
was a " go," too, even about his rough blank verse which served his
dramatic purpose.
Mr. Nibbs. What set you thinking of this, Sir ?
Mr. Punch. Partly the announcement about Clancarty at the
St. James's, and partly having recently seen Mr. Henry Autbor
Jones's Hard Hit at the Haymarket.
Mr. Nibbs. I have seen it also. It struck me that Hard Hit was
no hit at all
Mr. Punch. It has this one unpardonable fault—it is dull. If it
were bad, there might be some question as to its degree of badness,
or some discussion as to which Act were the worst. But there is no
room for discussion or for dispute where a play is simply and unde-
niably dull.
Mr. Nibbs. There is one effective situation in the Fourth Act
where the husband hides behind a curtain._
Mr. Punch. Yes, but nothing comes of it, as he disappears only to
meet somebody in the passage who clears up the difficulty. As to
the situation in the Third Act, it is the Screen Scene spoiled, just
as Mr. Beerbohm Tree's character is a compound of Captain
Hawksley and Joseph Surface, both spoiled, and Mrs. Ashby, is a
commonplace adaptation of Lady Sneerwell.
Mr. Nibbs. I see exactly what you mean, Sir. I thought the
actors very good in it altogether.
Mr. Punch. So good, that I would rather have seen them out of
it altogether, though had an actress like Miss Sophie Eyre been
cast for Mrs. Ashby, the piece might perhaps have gained by it.
Mr. Tree's make up is admirable ; a trifle trop charge, perhaps.
Mr. Nibbs. I thought Mr. Kesible capital as the garrulous Major.
Mr. Punch. And Mr. Coutts, a name unknown to me on the
Btage scored most decidedly as the little used-up masher the
Honourable Effingham Nangle. _ But why on earth did Mr. Jones
make the host, introduce this 'personage to his guests as "the
Honourable ? " Is it a new fashion in society ?
Mr. Nibbs. Perhaps Mr. Jones wishes to start it; but as the piece
has been out barely for three weeks, "Society" has not yet had
time to adopt the novelty. And perhaps you noticed, Sir, that to in-
tensify the absurdity, the gentleman described as " The Honour-
able " was being introduced to a real Baronet,
Mr. Punch. Impersonated by Mr. Archer who looked as if he had
stepped out of an illustration to a story in Reynolds's Miscellany. I
liked Mr. Willard, he was excellently made-up and acted remarkably
well; but though it sounds paradoxical, he is best when he is bad.
Once let an actor acquire a reputation on the stage for being a villain
and the public will never believe in his conversion. Mr. Dacre is
another paradoxical person.
Mr. Nibbs. How so ?
.Mr. Punch. He is physically a "slantingdicular" actor, who
with a bias to the right "can't go straight." He was better suitedas
Jim the Penman.
Mr. Nibbs. And Jim suited the public better than Hard Hit is
ever likely to do.
Mr. Punch. It was hard on Hard Hit to follow Jim, just as the
enormous success of the Private Secretary told against The Pick-
pocket, and the Pickpocket, m its degree, against Lodgers, which is
poor stuff, though at all events one can have two or three good
hearty laughs at Messrs. Penley and Hill.
Mr. Nibbs. No such luck at the Haymarket, where you can neither
laugh nor cry.
Mr. Punch. No, and an audience neither amused nor harrowed
becomes mildly indifferent or_ conspicuously bored. Mr. Jones left
to himself, without any of his former collaborateurs, like the last
rose of Summer blooming alone, fails in construction. That is, as far
as I can judge, as I have never yet seen one of his pieces where he
was sole author. His dialogue is plain and straightforward enough
for a melodrama like the Noble Vagabond, and in that only up to
the middle of the Third Act, when the muddle begins. But compare
Hard Hit with Tour Taylor's Still Waters, and then you'll see
what might have been done in dialogue and construction with even
such old materials as Mr. Jones has got together.
Mr. Nibbs. Oddly enough, Sir, throughout Hard Hit they are
always talking about a " Still Waters Company Limited."
Mr. Punch. Perhaps that is what recalled the old piece to my
mind. However, it is sufficiently well-known nowadays among
play-going amateurs for them to appreciate the force of my observa^
tions. I have yet to see Mr. Pinero's new piece at the Court.
Mr. Nibbs. And the latest at the Royalty.
Mr. Punch. Both very amusing as I am told. I hear that our
friend Augustus Druriolanus is to rule over Covent Garden as well
as Drury Lane. More worlds to conquer! He has shown himself
uncommonly clever at Old Drury, and we all wish him success. An
plaisir !
" HIS HIGHNESS !"
Robson as the Showman in the farce of Catching a Mermaid, used
to call out, "Walk up and see the Giant! Alive! alive! alive!
He's eight foot high, he's nine foot high, he's ten foot high!"'
" Why, father," said a boy, "the carawan ain't ten foot high!
"He'sa sittin' down, stoopid! Walk up ! Walk up! " and here at
the Pavilion every night may be seen this tremendously tall man,
eight feet nine inches high, so they say, not ungainly for a Giant,
and looking as amiable as Giants always do outside books of fairy
tales, and apart from Pantomimic tradition. If any one were justified
in preserving a lofty demeanour it would be Herb Winkelmeier ;
hut he is polite to all, and affable with the lowliest.
Mr. Villiers, Junior, showed us the great man's suite of apart-
ments, and they certainly have "done him," very well at the
Pavilion. His Highness—doesn't he deserve the title which
Mr. Punch hereby bestows on him ?—contrives to amuse himself
in the day-time by playing at draughts, and trying to make Mr.
Edward Swanborough, the Acting Manager, understand what
he 'means. The Giant only speaks German, and Mr. Swanborough
is limited to English.
The Pavilion Management are not averse to letting him out, though
if they " let him out" much, they would have to raise the roof. They
may loan him to some exhibition, but at present they are quite content
with his height, and don't want him to be higher'd anywhere else.
The Acrobats at the Pavilion are marvellous, and if a few of the
feats—arms and legs as well—of the Letine and Schafeer Troupes,
were introduced into a burlesque, and performed by some of the
regular actors, the novelty would draw the town. We have lately
seen how a tenor, Mr. Lely, can overcome all difficulties and dance a
horn-pipe, and it is a pity that Mr. Gsossmith or Mr. Baeringion,
as the first and second Bad Baronets, did not bestow some time on
acquiring one or two of the tricks of the Eatsnoshin Awata, which
would have lightened up their parts in the Second Act, amazingly;
but perhaps they '11 keep it for the Indian burlesque Opera, when
they can appear as the Bounding India-Rubber Brothers. In the
meantime a visit to the Pavilion will astonish the idler, interest the
anatomist, and amuse the Democritical observer.
"WHO SHALL DECIDE WHEN DOCTORS DISAGREE?"
Dear Mr. Punch,
I have not been very well lately, so I thought I would con-
sult that eminent physician Dr. A. The first thing he said to me
was, "What do you drink ? " (if he had said what don't you drink,
it would perhaps have been more to the purpose.) "Oh," I said,
"things in general, anything that's handy." "The very worst
thing you can do ; you should take nothing hut a couple of glasses of
dry Sherry with your dinner." I followed his prescription for some
time, and getting no better, I resolved to see that distinguished
practitioner Dr. B. He immediately asked me what I drank—you
would think from their questions I was an habitual drunkard—I said
"only a little dry Sherry." "What!" exclaimed Dr. B., "dry
Sherry ? That accounts for it. You must take nothing but a pint
of dry Champagne." I tried this for a week and, finding myself
still out of sorts, I called upon the distinguished Dr. C. Of course
the usual question. And when I replied "a pint of dry Champagne ! "
he jumped. "Poison, my dear Sir, noison! No wonder you're
out of sorts. Now, if you take nothing but a pint of Leoville—
the very best Leoville mind you,—we shall soon put you on your
legs again! " I tried this remedy for a fortnight—for I rather
liked it—but found no improvement whatever in my health.
So on the recommendation of an old friend, I called on the fashion-
able Dr. D. The usual question, and then Dr. D. exclaimed, " You
should never taste a drop of wine of any description. Take the best