HERE’S THE “ DUVAL.” TO PAY!
Claude Duval, or Love and any Lass—no, beg pardon, Messrs.
Solomon and Stephens, H.P., we should have said “ Larceny ”—is a bright, sparkling opera, and, like the hero himself, yvho comes in on horseback, it is well mounted.
Claude of course was a thorough scoundrel, and deserved the hanging he got, but he has always been a fascinating Highwayman with novelists, dramatists, and artists, and has been, consequently,
drawn and hung over and over again, and now he is most comfortably quartered at the Olympic, where he represents both music and “ drawing.”
Mr. Solomon’s music hath charms to soothe the savage Critic, and must be heard more than once to be thoroughly appreciated; for it does not merely consist of the quadrille-hand compositions of the imitation- Offenbach-opera-bouife school (very backward pupils in that school), or the catching tunes of our Music-halls, but professes itself to be
the music of genuine Comic Opera. It would be untrue to say—(so of course we couldn’t say it—“ what a good boy are we ! that it is up to the standard—(good musical Critic on the Standard—Alfred Whatsunname, isn’t it?— but that’s not the sort of standard we mean)— which probably the Composer has set up for himself, and which is generally recognised as that of Comic Opera, but Mr. Solomon, belong
ing to an ancient family which has had a marvellous musical reputation for the last few thousand years or so, ever since—(but odd profanum, and for further particulars consult the Memoirs of Hiram, King of Tyre, and Hiram Abife—address, Temple Hardens, just on the square, &c., &c., “ Freemasons, please copy”)—has done well to enlist under this banner, and to whisper to his collaborateur, as Mr. Sam Weller said to Blazes in the presence of Mr. John Smaulker of Bath, “We ’ll try a better next time.”
King Stephens is a worthy peer, and his story has in it something more than that of the needy knife-grinder’s; in fact he has got so much to tell that there are in the plot materials for a Five-Act Melodrama and two Farces, which the necessities of a Three-Act compressed Opera have rather jumbled up, so that the events, like Mr. Napkins the Magistrate’s ideas, and he was “full of ’em,” come out rather knocking one another on the head. The story might have been a trifle clearer—or stay —might we have been a trifle clearer when we tried to follow it, and it distanced us (because some well-informed person would come and talk to us while, we believe, it was progressing)
leaving us asking “ why and wherefore,” when we found ourselves at the end of the Second Act ? We must see it again, or have our office telephone put in connection with the Prompter’s box and enjoy it that way. No more going to theatres, no more hasty dinners, no more coughs and colds, no more fees, no more wait
ing for cabs that won’t come,—try our Dramatic Telephone. Turn on old Telephone!
We don’t quite know with whom Miss Edith Blande, who appeared as Rose, one of McGruder’s nieces, was in love with, and we couldn’t absolutely make out which was McGruder. Miss Harriet
* Artist’s address can be had at our office, but he is a crack shot, and has been “ out” several times,—when anyone called on him. A Fire-eater, and
a Teetotaller. Gigantic combination I—Ed.
Coveney was very funny as McGruder’s sister, Mr. F. H. Celli, gallant and gay as Claude, and Charles Lorrimore—Charles his
friend—looked as much like an “ adherent of Lord Clarendon ” as it was possible for Mr. George Power to do. The way in which he went on adhering to Lord Clarendon throughout the Opera was charming!
How he adhered! Quite the stickingplaster dent in his power of adherence.
As Constance, Miss Marion Hood, looked, like a pretty Soho-Bazaarian or Arcadian Doll, and with about as much mechanical action, but standing out amongst the other little maids of Bur
lington Arcadee representing the Happy Villagers on the Village Green of Milldew—no, Milden—Manor. We did like their Milden manner! What a delight
ful village. Imagine them going to their work, milking the Milden cows, feeding the Milden pigs, toying—mecha
nically toy-ing with the musical pet baa-lambs—four-in-a-bar lambs—and
listening to the swains as they pipe beneath the trees! Our Tee
total Artist couldn’t restrain his emotion, and has drawn an ideal picture of The Happy Claude du Valley Village.
Mr. Arthur Williams is capital as Sir Whiffle Whaffle, and his song “My Name’s Sir Whiffle Whaffle” is, with the refrain of the aforesaid Village Maidens, one of the many hits of the Opera. “ William is sure to be right,” another good song not gone wrong, is well given by Mr. Fred .Solomon, and generally receives three or four encores. We fancy there was a sort of political idea about it that gave it a go; at all events, the encores were unanimous, there was no obstruction, and nobody dissented from the proposition that “ William was sure to be right.” Is it dedicated to Hie Premier ?
Author and Composer have an eccentric bouffe piece coming out, when 1 atience goes to Mr. D’Oyley Carte’s new Theatre, The Beaufort, or the Saveloy, or whatever its name is to be. And we wish them another success, which, to give the Duval his due, they seem to have achieved at the Olympic.
We ’re inclined to stoop to Folly, and go in for a little Imprudence next week.
Very successful revival of Never Too Late to Mend at the Adelphi, which we can do no more than allude to here, as it’s never too late to mend-tion it.
FROM DANZIG.
What did the meeting of the two Emperors mean ? Nothing—or Nihilism ? Prince Bismarck was in Russian uniform, with Russian leather boots. This looked well, but looks bad—for Russia.
Act I., tableau.—Clauuc Duval FitiTuering away his time.
Master Solo-mon conducting himself properly at the Olympic.
Mr. II. P. Stephens—a noun of multitude.
The double-headed, or Two-to-One-onhim Librettist.*
Edith Blande-ishment.
“ Linked sweetness long drawn out.”
Claude and Lorrimore exchange cloaks. The long and the short of it. Perfect disguise, of course.
Doll and Dolly.
Landscape representing Happy Village where the Peculiar Peat ant
Maidens reside.—After Claude (du Val).
Claude Duval, or Love and any Lass—no, beg pardon, Messrs.
Solomon and Stephens, H.P., we should have said “ Larceny ”—is a bright, sparkling opera, and, like the hero himself, yvho comes in on horseback, it is well mounted.
Claude of course was a thorough scoundrel, and deserved the hanging he got, but he has always been a fascinating Highwayman with novelists, dramatists, and artists, and has been, consequently,
drawn and hung over and over again, and now he is most comfortably quartered at the Olympic, where he represents both music and “ drawing.”
Mr. Solomon’s music hath charms to soothe the savage Critic, and must be heard more than once to be thoroughly appreciated; for it does not merely consist of the quadrille-hand compositions of the imitation- Offenbach-opera-bouife school (very backward pupils in that school), or the catching tunes of our Music-halls, but professes itself to be
the music of genuine Comic Opera. It would be untrue to say—(so of course we couldn’t say it—“ what a good boy are we ! that it is up to the standard—(good musical Critic on the Standard—Alfred Whatsunname, isn’t it?— but that’s not the sort of standard we mean)— which probably the Composer has set up for himself, and which is generally recognised as that of Comic Opera, but Mr. Solomon, belong
ing to an ancient family which has had a marvellous musical reputation for the last few thousand years or so, ever since—(but odd profanum, and for further particulars consult the Memoirs of Hiram, King of Tyre, and Hiram Abife—address, Temple Hardens, just on the square, &c., &c., “ Freemasons, please copy”)—has done well to enlist under this banner, and to whisper to his collaborateur, as Mr. Sam Weller said to Blazes in the presence of Mr. John Smaulker of Bath, “We ’ll try a better next time.”
King Stephens is a worthy peer, and his story has in it something more than that of the needy knife-grinder’s; in fact he has got so much to tell that there are in the plot materials for a Five-Act Melodrama and two Farces, which the necessities of a Three-Act compressed Opera have rather jumbled up, so that the events, like Mr. Napkins the Magistrate’s ideas, and he was “full of ’em,” come out rather knocking one another on the head. The story might have been a trifle clearer—or stay —might we have been a trifle clearer when we tried to follow it, and it distanced us (because some well-informed person would come and talk to us while, we believe, it was progressing)
leaving us asking “ why and wherefore,” when we found ourselves at the end of the Second Act ? We must see it again, or have our office telephone put in connection with the Prompter’s box and enjoy it that way. No more going to theatres, no more hasty dinners, no more coughs and colds, no more fees, no more wait
ing for cabs that won’t come,—try our Dramatic Telephone. Turn on old Telephone!
We don’t quite know with whom Miss Edith Blande, who appeared as Rose, one of McGruder’s nieces, was in love with, and we couldn’t absolutely make out which was McGruder. Miss Harriet
* Artist’s address can be had at our office, but he is a crack shot, and has been “ out” several times,—when anyone called on him. A Fire-eater, and
a Teetotaller. Gigantic combination I—Ed.
Coveney was very funny as McGruder’s sister, Mr. F. H. Celli, gallant and gay as Claude, and Charles Lorrimore—Charles his
friend—looked as much like an “ adherent of Lord Clarendon ” as it was possible for Mr. George Power to do. The way in which he went on adhering to Lord Clarendon throughout the Opera was charming!
How he adhered! Quite the stickingplaster dent in his power of adherence.
As Constance, Miss Marion Hood, looked, like a pretty Soho-Bazaarian or Arcadian Doll, and with about as much mechanical action, but standing out amongst the other little maids of Bur
lington Arcadee representing the Happy Villagers on the Village Green of Milldew—no, Milden—Manor. We did like their Milden manner! What a delight
ful village. Imagine them going to their work, milking the Milden cows, feeding the Milden pigs, toying—mecha
nically toy-ing with the musical pet baa-lambs—four-in-a-bar lambs—and
listening to the swains as they pipe beneath the trees! Our Tee
total Artist couldn’t restrain his emotion, and has drawn an ideal picture of The Happy Claude du Valley Village.
Mr. Arthur Williams is capital as Sir Whiffle Whaffle, and his song “My Name’s Sir Whiffle Whaffle” is, with the refrain of the aforesaid Village Maidens, one of the many hits of the Opera. “ William is sure to be right,” another good song not gone wrong, is well given by Mr. Fred .Solomon, and generally receives three or four encores. We fancy there was a sort of political idea about it that gave it a go; at all events, the encores were unanimous, there was no obstruction, and nobody dissented from the proposition that “ William was sure to be right.” Is it dedicated to Hie Premier ?
Author and Composer have an eccentric bouffe piece coming out, when 1 atience goes to Mr. D’Oyley Carte’s new Theatre, The Beaufort, or the Saveloy, or whatever its name is to be. And we wish them another success, which, to give the Duval his due, they seem to have achieved at the Olympic.
We ’re inclined to stoop to Folly, and go in for a little Imprudence next week.
Very successful revival of Never Too Late to Mend at the Adelphi, which we can do no more than allude to here, as it’s never too late to mend-tion it.
FROM DANZIG.
What did the meeting of the two Emperors mean ? Nothing—or Nihilism ? Prince Bismarck was in Russian uniform, with Russian leather boots. This looked well, but looks bad—for Russia.
Act I., tableau.—Clauuc Duval FitiTuering away his time.
Master Solo-mon conducting himself properly at the Olympic.
Mr. II. P. Stephens—a noun of multitude.
The double-headed, or Two-to-One-onhim Librettist.*
Edith Blande-ishment.
“ Linked sweetness long drawn out.”
Claude and Lorrimore exchange cloaks. The long and the short of it. Perfect disguise, of course.
Doll and Dolly.
Landscape representing Happy Village where the Peculiar Peat ant
Maidens reside.—After Claude (du Val).