Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, July 2, 1892

Excerpt

OPERATIC NOTES.

Wednesday.—WAGNER. Vainly the Daughters of the River, representing the floating capital of the Banks of the Rhine, cry "Woa! Woa!" The orchestra, under the direction of Herr MAHLER, takes no notice of them, but goes on Wagnerianly, inexorably. Thus swimmingly we reach Walhall—where the fire-god Loge has a logement with very heavy insurance. Wotan and Loge in search of the gold. Then we meet the Nibelungs and the Nibelights, all livers under a water-cure system; and then—it's like a musical nightmare—Alberich changes himself into a toad and is towed off as a prisoner. Fafner settles Fasolt by a drum-head Court Martial, so that Fafner gets the golden honey, and Fasolt gets the whacks—and—please, Sir, I don't know any more—but some of the music is running river-like and lovely, more is puzzling, and much of it must remind Sir DRURIOLANUS of the rum-tum-tiddy-iddy-iddy-um-bang-whack of a great Drury Pantomime. House full; Duke and Duchess of EDINBURGH, with Princess MARIE and Crown Prince of ROUMANIA, enjoying themselves Wagnerially and Rou-manically.

Saturday.—Le Prophète. JOHN DE RESZKÉ not up to his usual form as the Sporting Prophet; but his little Brother EDWARD, and Messieurs MONTARIOL and CASTELMARY, first-rate as the three conspiring undertakers. Madame DESCHAMPS-JÉHIN, as Fides, very fine. "House," also, very fine, and large.

THE BONES OF JOSEPH.

Dear Mr. Punch,—When writing to a Journal of light and leaders—or misleaders—last Friday, I kept "a little bit up my sleeve," so to speak, for the Brightest, Lightest, and Leadingest of all papers yclept the one, Sir, that bears your honoured name. After quoting from Mr. CHAMBERLAIN at Holloway (not in Holloway) on June 17, 1885, as a gentle reminder to Mr. GOSCHEN—their "Mr. G."—I observed, "Perhaps, however, there are reasons why the 'Egyptian Skeleton' prefers to forget the speeches of Mr. CHAMBERLAIN in 1885." It struck me that, having already an Egyptian Skeleton, we might have as its companion a Brummagem Skeleton, which everyone can see through, and this sketch I beg to submit to you, pro bono publico. Always, Mr. Punch, your most obedient "subject" (artistically),

W.V. H-RC-RT.

Were it not that the salutation were infelicitous, we should have said, "Hail, all hail!" to the Fête at the Botanical Gardens, Regent's Park, last Wednesday. Besides, they have always an Aquarius of the name of WATERER on the premises, whose Rhododendrons are magnificent. So we didn't say "All hail!" and there was not a single drop, of rain, or in the attendance, to damage a charming show which has so often been spoilt by the drop too much that has floored many a Fête of Flora. Nothing could have been prettier. Flowers of speech are inadequate to describe the scene. "Simply lovely!" is the best epitome of praise.

The Look-out, Sheepsdoor, Kent....