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Punch, Or The London Charivari, Volume 102, July 2, 1892 By: Various |
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OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 102. July 2, 1892.
OPERATIC NOTES. [Illustration: Ancient Brass Work, in memory of Wagner the Great
Worker in Brass.] 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. [Illustration] 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. THE FÊTE OF FLORA. [Illustration: First Prize Love among the Roses.] 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. LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS. The Look out, Sheepsdoor, Kent . DEAR MR. PUNCH, Ascot has been too much for me! What with the excitement of racing all
day, and bézique half the night (another sign of the times; women no
longer "play for love," but "love to play!") to say nothing of the
constant strain on one's nerves as to what the weather was going
to do to one's gowns, I have had a severe attack of overwork, with
complicating symptoms of my old enemy, idleness! so that, on my
return to town, my Doctor (he's a dear man, and prescribes just
what I suggest) insisted that I should at once run down to the
Seaside to recuperate. Hence my retirement to the little fishing
village of Sheepsdoor in Kent, "far from the gadding crowd;" a most
delightfully rural and little known resort, where we all go about in
brown canvas shoes (russia leather undreamt of!) and wear out all
our old things, utterly regardless of whether we look " en suite "
or not... Continue reading book >>
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