A MERRY GO-ROUNDER.
The Royal Comedy Theatre is in Panton Street, within a Stone’s throw of the Haymarket. (there are those who will recognise the definition). It is called “The Comedy” because they play Opera Bouffe—which practical joke of Manager Henderson’s prepares an audience for any amount of fun to follow. True to his predilection for French dishes with English sauce, Alexander the Grate-ful Henderson presents to us the Mascotte, a piece to whose licence in the original tongue our virtuous Examiner of Plays would not have g
ranted the Lord Chamberlain’s. Morally filtered by Messrs. Fahnle and Reece, it becomes a most innocuous concoction; a trifle
flat to the taste, but bright and sparkling to the eye. The dialogue is indeed so exotic, that one of the principal jokes of the evening is derived after an international fashion from the phonetic resem
blance of “ glou ”—the Gallic equivalent for the turkey’s * gobble ”
—to the English name for the adhesive material associated with a pot. It would be unfair, however, not to record the fact that Mr. Lionel Brough is accommodated with an entirely new and original gag, “ S-mother your father,” which is clearly intended to be a regular side-splitter. After its fifth repetition, there was
scarcely a dry eye in the theatre. Alas! poor Joke! According to the Adapters, the Mascotte is a kind of “good fairy.” In legendary reality she is, however, a mortal bringing good luck, a sort of antidote to the Evil Eye. We wonder whether MM. Chivot and Duru, the Authors of the original libretto, understand English, as, if so, they would doubtless be delighted with this specimen of versification—
“ Who sees a Magpie solus, Portent and presage grim, Spite of draught or bolus,
Soon it’s all up with him.”
M. Andean’s musio is pretty, but not particularly striking. There is one air that runs right through it—like a draught—but not in at one ear and out at the other, as it is decidedly catching—like a cold.
Miss Violet Cameron plays the Mascotte. She looks very handsome, and evidently means well. She is, doubtless, actuated by the most praiseworthy ambition to do something with the part, but as to what that something is to be she has not yet made up her mind. The really original country accent adopted by her in Act I. is
cast aside with extraordinary adroitness when she develops into a full-blown Countess. This is clever, but inconsistent; but then isn’t Genius invariably inconsistent ? Throughout the piece she is full of a sly, quaint, subtle sort of fun, wkioh no one enjoys more than she does herself,—or, perhaps, so much. Like the Nymph of “ L’Allegro,” she is overflowing with nod and beok and wreathed smile. She sings better than Bhe plays, and some of her best notes have the sterling ring of real metal about them.
Mr. Lionel Brough, who is described as a Duke in the programme, but who becomes a King, or a Prince, before the curtain rises, is provided with a Brough-and-tumble role, in which, when he has nothing else to do, ho is very funny. The best piece of character,
and perhaps the best character in the piece, is the Prince Fritellini of Mr. Henry Bract, though why he wears what appears to be a large bit of beetroot in his hat we could not understand, unless it was to lead up to some joke about his mother having “ sold her mangel,” which, however, was not said in our hearing, and we remained to what we thought was the end of the Onera. According
to the programme aforesaid, Miss Agnes Mitchell appears as the Princess Fiametta. If this be so, Miss Mitchell and Miss St. Quentin must be a kind of Corsican Sisters. Mons. Gaillard (programme again) sings well in an unknown language, and Mr. T. P. Haynes is most accurate in his make-up as Mr. Arthur Cecil.
Miss Ada Wilson is graceful and nimble in the Saltarelle. The “ Act Drop ” at the new theatre is a real work of Art, apparently belonging to the early Penny Valentine School. The stage business
of the chorus is the same as it usually is in all Bouffes with which Mr. Henderson’s theatres are Farnieshed by the experienced Mr. Farnie.
Whittington and his Cat, at the Gaiety, is a burlesque drama. So are plenty of other dramas in which there are not pretty dresses (a la
Pilotell), pretty music (a la
Meyer Lutz), and pretty faces (a la Compagnie Generale de la Gaiete assured). Like the Forty Thieves, Whittington is the sort of piece to which you might take your children, if you have any; or anybody else’s if you haven’t. You can’t go wrong, because the story is clear. That is a great point,
in fact, one of the greatest points in the piece. It is on the old lines, with lots of new ones thrown in, and not generally thrown away.
Miss E. Faerbn, as Dick,
beats any of her previous performances. There is a very pretty dream-scene on Highgate Hill, wherein she sees Alice, in which character
Miss Kate Vaughan looks more fascinating than ever, and, moreover, is very funny, as she
can be when she likes, in the Second Act. Mr. E. W. Royce shares honours with them as Mynheer Van der Shuttle, a Dutch Sea Captain, and, as evidenced by his dancing, a capital skipper. Capital skippers
too are Mr. J. J. Dallas and Miss Phyllis Broughton. But—
“ See Mr. Johnny D Kuban,
He’s so quick and nimble, He’d dance on a tbimble,
He’a more like an elf than a man.”
So he is. In the bills he is described as an “ Enchanter of Serpents.” He was en
thusiastically encored. So what a lot of serpents there must have been in the house !
In the last Act of Whittington there is a panorama of the Lord Mayor’s; Show, by
Mr. H. J. Banks. Mr. Hol
lingshead should draw on his Banks for more carica
tures ; for these are all admirably conceived and executed in a truly humorous spirit; and the Artist has evidently such “ power to add to his number,” that by the 9th of November the Procession of these Figures of Fun may be produced to any length, with lots of breadth. Mr. Banks can draw; and, at all events, his Panorama will.
We give a most cordial welcome to Mr. Fred Clay at the Opera Comique, though we could have wished that he had produced an
entirely new opera instead of warming up his and Mr. Gilbert’s Princess Tvto, which he has re-served for this occasion; but as his audience warmed themselves up to it as well, weforgive him. Of course, any composition of Clay’s must be “ very putty,” and the music throughout Toto is this, and more; but there’s nothing in it that, at a first hearing, you can carry away with you and keep it to yourself as if it were your own.
We heard it ages ago at the Strand—about the time, we suppose, that we heard “ Ages Ago ” at the German Reeds’, and wasn’t the music of this charming and catchy ? and didn’t we catch it ? rather, —“ No please you, Sir, ’twas I —how pretty—we mean, as before, how putty, which we must always say when speaking of Clay’s work
—to be placed on a par with that other song, “ Nobody knows as I know, which, sung by Kate Santley, created such a furore at the
A Drop too much, or the Panton Street Curtain.
Pretty Dicky, the Cat, and Somebody Alice.
The Cook and the Skuttle.
The Royal Comedy Theatre is in Panton Street, within a Stone’s throw of the Haymarket. (there are those who will recognise the definition). It is called “The Comedy” because they play Opera Bouffe—which practical joke of Manager Henderson’s prepares an audience for any amount of fun to follow. True to his predilection for French dishes with English sauce, Alexander the Grate-ful Henderson presents to us the Mascotte, a piece to whose licence in the original tongue our virtuous Examiner of Plays would not have g
ranted the Lord Chamberlain’s. Morally filtered by Messrs. Fahnle and Reece, it becomes a most innocuous concoction; a trifle
flat to the taste, but bright and sparkling to the eye. The dialogue is indeed so exotic, that one of the principal jokes of the evening is derived after an international fashion from the phonetic resem
blance of “ glou ”—the Gallic equivalent for the turkey’s * gobble ”
—to the English name for the adhesive material associated with a pot. It would be unfair, however, not to record the fact that Mr. Lionel Brough is accommodated with an entirely new and original gag, “ S-mother your father,” which is clearly intended to be a regular side-splitter. After its fifth repetition, there was
scarcely a dry eye in the theatre. Alas! poor Joke! According to the Adapters, the Mascotte is a kind of “good fairy.” In legendary reality she is, however, a mortal bringing good luck, a sort of antidote to the Evil Eye. We wonder whether MM. Chivot and Duru, the Authors of the original libretto, understand English, as, if so, they would doubtless be delighted with this specimen of versification—
“ Who sees a Magpie solus, Portent and presage grim, Spite of draught or bolus,
Soon it’s all up with him.”
M. Andean’s musio is pretty, but not particularly striking. There is one air that runs right through it—like a draught—but not in at one ear and out at the other, as it is decidedly catching—like a cold.
Miss Violet Cameron plays the Mascotte. She looks very handsome, and evidently means well. She is, doubtless, actuated by the most praiseworthy ambition to do something with the part, but as to what that something is to be she has not yet made up her mind. The really original country accent adopted by her in Act I. is
cast aside with extraordinary adroitness when she develops into a full-blown Countess. This is clever, but inconsistent; but then isn’t Genius invariably inconsistent ? Throughout the piece she is full of a sly, quaint, subtle sort of fun, wkioh no one enjoys more than she does herself,—or, perhaps, so much. Like the Nymph of “ L’Allegro,” she is overflowing with nod and beok and wreathed smile. She sings better than Bhe plays, and some of her best notes have the sterling ring of real metal about them.
Mr. Lionel Brough, who is described as a Duke in the programme, but who becomes a King, or a Prince, before the curtain rises, is provided with a Brough-and-tumble role, in which, when he has nothing else to do, ho is very funny. The best piece of character,
and perhaps the best character in the piece, is the Prince Fritellini of Mr. Henry Bract, though why he wears what appears to be a large bit of beetroot in his hat we could not understand, unless it was to lead up to some joke about his mother having “ sold her mangel,” which, however, was not said in our hearing, and we remained to what we thought was the end of the Onera. According
to the programme aforesaid, Miss Agnes Mitchell appears as the Princess Fiametta. If this be so, Miss Mitchell and Miss St. Quentin must be a kind of Corsican Sisters. Mons. Gaillard (programme again) sings well in an unknown language, and Mr. T. P. Haynes is most accurate in his make-up as Mr. Arthur Cecil.
Miss Ada Wilson is graceful and nimble in the Saltarelle. The “ Act Drop ” at the new theatre is a real work of Art, apparently belonging to the early Penny Valentine School. The stage business
of the chorus is the same as it usually is in all Bouffes with which Mr. Henderson’s theatres are Farnieshed by the experienced Mr. Farnie.
Whittington and his Cat, at the Gaiety, is a burlesque drama. So are plenty of other dramas in which there are not pretty dresses (a la
Pilotell), pretty music (a la
Meyer Lutz), and pretty faces (a la Compagnie Generale de la Gaiete assured). Like the Forty Thieves, Whittington is the sort of piece to which you might take your children, if you have any; or anybody else’s if you haven’t. You can’t go wrong, because the story is clear. That is a great point,
in fact, one of the greatest points in the piece. It is on the old lines, with lots of new ones thrown in, and not generally thrown away.
Miss E. Faerbn, as Dick,
beats any of her previous performances. There is a very pretty dream-scene on Highgate Hill, wherein she sees Alice, in which character
Miss Kate Vaughan looks more fascinating than ever, and, moreover, is very funny, as she
can be when she likes, in the Second Act. Mr. E. W. Royce shares honours with them as Mynheer Van der Shuttle, a Dutch Sea Captain, and, as evidenced by his dancing, a capital skipper. Capital skippers
too are Mr. J. J. Dallas and Miss Phyllis Broughton. But—
“ See Mr. Johnny D Kuban,
He’s so quick and nimble, He’d dance on a tbimble,
He’a more like an elf than a man.”
So he is. In the bills he is described as an “ Enchanter of Serpents.” He was en
thusiastically encored. So what a lot of serpents there must have been in the house !
In the last Act of Whittington there is a panorama of the Lord Mayor’s; Show, by
Mr. H. J. Banks. Mr. Hol
lingshead should draw on his Banks for more carica
tures ; for these are all admirably conceived and executed in a truly humorous spirit; and the Artist has evidently such “ power to add to his number,” that by the 9th of November the Procession of these Figures of Fun may be produced to any length, with lots of breadth. Mr. Banks can draw; and, at all events, his Panorama will.
We give a most cordial welcome to Mr. Fred Clay at the Opera Comique, though we could have wished that he had produced an
entirely new opera instead of warming up his and Mr. Gilbert’s Princess Tvto, which he has re-served for this occasion; but as his audience warmed themselves up to it as well, weforgive him. Of course, any composition of Clay’s must be “ very putty,” and the music throughout Toto is this, and more; but there’s nothing in it that, at a first hearing, you can carry away with you and keep it to yourself as if it were your own.
We heard it ages ago at the Strand—about the time, we suppose, that we heard “ Ages Ago ” at the German Reeds’, and wasn’t the music of this charming and catchy ? and didn’t we catch it ? rather, —“ No please you, Sir, ’twas I —how pretty—we mean, as before, how putty, which we must always say when speaking of Clay’s work
—to be placed on a par with that other song, “ Nobody knows as I know, which, sung by Kate Santley, created such a furore at the
A Drop too much, or the Panton Street Curtain.
Pretty Dicky, the Cat, and Somebody Alice.
The Cook and the Skuttle.