Punch (94.1888)

Ma^ch 17, 1888.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

121

" IN THE DAYS WHEN WE WENT GIPSYING."

Yes, Sir, "The days when we went Gipsying, a long time ago »
were revived last Thursday at the Avenue Scenes of my childhood
once more I behold ye ! The Bohemian Girl is indeed the Girl I
left behind me." The occasion of the -ival^was ^cnbed^as

tinee, which suggests rather

a Hazy morning ; and so it

was, but I went to meet

the good old Girl.

The good old Girl was,

I was delighted to find,

as good as ever! There

was Devilshoof the Gipsy,

played and sung by Mr.

Snazelle, who is up to all

the gags and business,

without which I fancy

nowadays The Bohemian

Girl—bless her!—would be
Having his Fling. & trifle Bu(. her

musical chsrms were as bright as of yore. "With her again I wandered
in Marble Halls, and "when other lips" sang her songs, then " I
remembered her," and every note of them: and my heart was not
"bowed down by weight of woe," but, on the contrary, was
beating time to the ballad tunes with all the fervour of youth, as
the fresh strawberry mark on her arm was discovered, and Arline
fell into the arms of the Count, in whom she recognised her long-lost
parent, when Devilshoof sang out boldly, " Be not deceived, 'tis thy
father before thee 1" And jyrtw <
it was my father before me, ] y'J^i, J
who took me to see The
Bohemian Girl, when she
and I were girl and boy
together, though I was not,
I wish to state, a Bohemian
Boy, but a very respectably
brought-up one—coming of
as " dacent people " as were
Arline's own relations.
Bless her dear eyes! Ah,
those were happy nights !
Ko Matinees then! And to %

hear Balfe's Opera we went The Good 01d strawberry Mark

m the dress circle— quite a

family circle—and with oranges and cakes in our hands—cakes in
our hands and Bunn on the stage—we heard first of all The
Bohemian Girl, and then after that, the Pantomime. And here she
is again,—or was, last Thursday, and " I love her still the same,"
although I am _ An Old Stages.

COLERIDGE ON " GENERAL GORDON'S LETTERS TO
HIS SISTER."

"fl heae the very Gordon that of old
"Was wont to preach to me, now once more preaching."

Wallenstein, Act V., Sc. 2.

Gordon {log.). " 0 Time

Works miracles. In one hour many thousands
Of grains of sand run out; and quick as they
Thought follows thought within the human soul.
Only one hour! Fowrheart may change its purpose.
Sis heart may change its purpose,—some new tidings
May come: some fortunate event, decisive,
May fall from Heaven and rescue me. 0 what
May not an hour achieve! "

Wallenstein, Act V. Sc. i,—only one word changed.

SHAKSPEARIAN DISCOVERY.

Value of Money in Elizabethan Era! Shakspeaee a practical
•Economist!! This is a discovery worth everything that Bacon-fed
commentators have written. It is this:

" Gravedigger (to Samlet). A tanner -will last you nine year."

Now "a tanner," which, within the present century, was always
sixpence" ("two bob and a tanner" was the cabman's half-
crown), was perhaps equal in Shakspeaee's time to about four
times that amount. Yet, even if this be so, what could the price of
everything have been, and what could have been the Gravedigger's
estimate of Hamlet, when he expressed his opinion that a couple of
shillings (if that were the Elizabethan value of the "tanner ") would
last him "nine year " ? u_

OUR REAL GRIEVANCE OFFICE.

Before Mr. Commissioner Punch.

A Journalistic Specialist introduced.

The Commissioner. "Well, Sir, you look pale and ill. "What can
I do for you ?

Witness. I am a Dramatic Critic on a morning paper, and my
pallor is caused by incessant labour.

Com. Really I was under the impression that your post was a
light and pleasant one.

Wit. Ah, that was many years ago. In the Sixties a new piece
came out about once a month, and there was plenty of time to see it
and think it over before sitting down to write a criticism.

Com. And now, I suppose, a greater demand is made upon the critic ?
Wit. Certainly. There is a great deal of competition amongst
the dailies, and little important as a Dramatic Critic is oonsidered,
his notice must be published as soon after the performance as
possible.

Com. Is this your only complaint ?

Wit. Certainly not. After all, Art suffers rather than the writer,
when a notice has to he done at express rate speed. So, as a pro-
fessional journalist, I should find little fault with the exigencies of
the machine-room and the publishing office. But our great griev-
ance is that whereas a morning performance was in the olden times
nearly as scarce as a blue moon, nowadays they are as numerous as
blackberries in the Autumn.

Com. Do you object to morning performances ?
Wit. Most strongly. Occasionally they give us a sort of dress
rehearsal for the piece intended later on to form a part of the
evening programme, and on these occasions they are defensible hut
not welcome. But when they are merely vehicles for the exhibition
of "vaulting ambition over-reaching itself," and crass conceit
enjoying a field-day, it is time to remonstrate !
Com. You speak warmly!

Wit. Have I not reason so to do ? "Will you believe it, Sir, hut
last week I went to the theatre eleven times I

Com. Really! "Well then, perhaps you oan tell me what you
thought of The Power of Love of Miss Lindley ?

Wit. I would rather not say. The name is not new; it served as
a second title of Balee's Opera Satanella.
Com. Was The Power of Love funny ?

Wit. Some of it was very funny. For instance, there was a dram-
taking Doctor, who, after poisoning his "best patient," went about
crying for someone to buy him a practice. We screamed at him 1
Com. Was the heroine funny too ?

Wit. "Well, no, she was good, but her part was absolutely ridicu-
lous. It speaks well for her that the audience did not hiss her.
Because Bhe is bored with her home, she attempts the life of her
father—believes she has killed _ him—enjoys balls and suppers
without the least remorse, and ultimately " takes up " with a gentle-
man who looks like a country fair giant with a turn for dentistry !
Com. And is she hanged in the last Act ?

Wit. Oh, no! Because the poisoned draught, by an accident, does
not reach her father's lips, she is hailed as an innocent woman by all
the dramatis persona with every sign of rejoicing.

Com. Dear me, this sort of thing seems rather trying ?
Wit. I should think so! But the Power of Love was rather above
the average. It must be remembered that Miss Ltndlet dramatised
a novel—nearly always an unsatisfactory labour. Sometimes "the
new and original pieces " produced at Matinees are simply intolerable.
Com. And I suppose they are usually ' slated."
Wit. Of course. That is one comfort, they are crushed and never
appear again. .

Com. I can quite understand the feeling of annoyance their per-
formance must create; still it seems to me a little unjust that there
should be no appeal. ,

Wit. There would be, were they played m the ordinary way—in
the evening—and removed from the bills if they failed to please.
Com. W hat is your remedy ?

Wit. I would abolish morning performances, except for charities.
Com. I am obliged to you, I will make a note of your suggestion.

[ The Witness thanked the Commissioner, and withdrew.

The Odds in oto Favotjb.—We have come to be a large and
liberal generation. Our noble selves are not as were our narrow
progenitors. They used to boast that every Englishman could beat
any three Frenchmen—that was to say, foreigners. "We have ceased
to be so insular. We don't say that. No, but haven't we been
acting as if we thought so still? Don't our preparations and pre-
cautions for national defence against possible hosts of allied enemies
appear to have been calculated on the presumption asserted in
the above sometime popular saying;'as to the proportion of three
to one ?

"VOL. XCTV.

SI