Punch (99.1890)

November 15, 1890.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

237

HUNTING PREDICAMENTS. No. 1.

Miss Nelly {to her Slave, in the middle of the lest thing of the Season). "Oh, Me. Rowel,

do you mind ooinq back? I dropped my whip at the last FeTTCK i"

OPERATIC NOTES.

Wednesday.—Welcome once more to our old
friend, Norma, the Deceived Druidess, who was
called Norma for short, she being an orphan, and
having "nor par, nor ma." The Ancient Order
of Druids, with Arch-Druid Oroveso in the chair,
might have had a better brass band. Norma
nowadays is not particularly attractive, and the
house, when it is given, cannot be expected to be
more than normal or ordinary.

Thursday.— Orfeo. First appearance of Miles.
Giulia and Sofia Ravogli in Gltjck's beautiful
Opera, which has not been seen here for many
years, but—judging from its reception by a full
and delighted house—will be seen many times
before Signor Lago's season comes to an end.
Enthusiastic reception of Gitjlia Ravogli as
Orpheus; double recall after three of the four
Acts; house insisting on having " Che faro" all
over again. Orchestra, under Signor Bevignani,
admirable. Recreations of Demons and Furies,
when let out of Gates of Erebus for a half-holiday,
peculiar, not to say eccentric. Demons lie on rocks,
with silver serpents round their necks as com-
forters, claw the air, and trot round in circles,
after which they exhibit .Dutch-metalled walking-
sticks to one another with sombre pride. Furies
trip measures and strike attitudes in pink tights
and draperies of unsesthetic hues, when not
engaged in witnessing, with qualified interest,
incidental dances by two premieres danseuses.
Hades evidently less dull than generally supposed.

Suggestion'. — Curious that no enterprising
shaving-soap proprietor has as yet, as far as we
know, advertised his invention as "Tabula Rasa."
This is worth thousands, and takes the cake—of
soap. _

QUIS WOMEN"ABIT ?

{Being a few Remarks Apropos of a "British Academy of Letters.")

Me. Punch, Sir,

I have been reading with some morbid interest a series of
contributions to the pages of a contemporary from several more or
less distinguished literary men who have apparently been invited to
express their opinions, favourable or the reverse, on the recently
launched proposition to establish in our midst, after the French
model, a " British Academy of Letters." Some ask, ""What's the
use?" Others want to know who is to elect the elected, and seem
much exercised in their minds as to the status and qualifications of
those who ought to be chosen for the purpose of discharging this
all-important function. As to what would be the use of an institu-
tion of the kind, the answer is so obvious that I will not attempt to
reply to it. But if it comes to naming a representative body capable
of selecting the two or three thousand aspirants who have already,
in [imagination, seen their claims to the distinction recognised by
the elective body to which has been entrusted the duty of weighing
their respective merits—well then, to use a colloquial phrase, I may
confidently say that "I am all there! "

Of course. Royalty must head it, so I head the list of, say, twelve
Academic Electors, with the name of H.R.H. the Prince of Wales.
This should be followed up by that of some generally widely-known
personage, who has the literary confidence of the public, and in this
connection, I have no hesitation in supplying it by that of the Com-
piler of Bradshaur's Railway Guide. Several now should follow, of
varied and even conflicting interests, so as to satisfy any over-captious
criticism inclined to question the thoroughly cosmopolitan character
of the elective body. And so I next add, Mr. Sheriff Augustus
Haeeis, H.R.H. the Duke of Cambbidge, the Proprietor of Peaes'
Soap, and the Beadle of the Burlington Arcade.

It might now be well to give a distinctively literary flavour to the
body, and so I am disposed to continue my list with the names of the
Poet Laureate and the City Editor of Tit Bits, following them up
with the representatives of commercial enterprise, speculative art,
and sportive leisure, guaranteed respectively by the names of the
Chairman of the Chelsea Steam-boat Company, Mr. R. D'Oyly
Caete, and Prince Henby op Battenbebg. For the twelfth, and
remaining name, I would suggest that of Mr. Henby Ibving, the
Archbishop of Cantebbuby, the Manager of Madame Tussaud's
Wax Works, Sir Wilebid Lawson, General Booth, Mr. Slavin,
Mr. J. L. Toole, or any other striking or notable one that arrests
the eye with the familiarity of long acquaintance. With the exist-

ing deplorable position of the Pantomime literature of the country,
there can be little need to question further the necessity of a British
Academy of Letters. The naming of those who are to constitute
that institution is another thing; but if an authoritative fountain-
head, to discharge this inevitable function, is sought, and the public
puts the question, " Quis Nominabit?" I think, Sir, you will
admit that I have most satisfactorily supplied the answer. Trusting
to your judicious appreciation of the full gravity of the matter at
issue, to publish this communication,

I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

A veey Possible Futube Academician.

BEFORE AND BEHIND.
{From a Thoughtful Grammarian.)

Sie,—In the Times' Court Circular, on Friday last, I read that—
" Mr. William Nicholl had the honour ofsinging before Her Majesty
and the Itoj al Family."

This was indeed an honour. I regret that the Courtly Circularist
did not tell us what Mr. Nicholl sang before the Q,ueen and Royal
Family, and also what the Queen and Royal Family sang (solo and
chorus?) after Mr. Nicholl. But suppose "before" does not here
relate to time, but to position. It would have been a novelty indeed,
and one well worth recording, if Mr. Nicholl had had the honour of
singing behind the Royal Family. And then, what a compliment if
Her Gracious Majesty and the Royal Family had all turned round to
listen to him ! If I am wrong in my interpretation of the Court Cir-
cular's Circular Note, wouldn't it have prevented any possible error
to have said, "In the presence of"? I only ask for information,
and am Tours, Fidelitee.

A New Tbact eoe the Salvation Aemy.—The " General," who
is the biggest Booth in the show, announced last week that he had
been offered, a big tract of land. Hear! Hear! Where ? Where ?
" Anywhere, anywhere out of the world "—at least, out of our little
world of Great Britain & Co. Let not " the General" be too par-
ticular, but accept the tract,—though he is more used to distributing
tractB than accepting them,—and let him and his army, his lads and
lasses, go away and leave us to enjoy our Sundays in peace and quiet.

New City Fiem {adapted from West End by Our Own Scotch-
man).—" Savoey and Mayoe."