ALL IN PLAY.
My Dear Mr. Punch,
I think, however pleased you may look in your stall while listening to the charming music of Mr. Cellier in The Sultan of Mocha, you will agree with me that that gifted gentleman has been most unfortunate in the selection of his librettos. Dorothy was certainly feeble, but the revived opera at the Strand is feebler still. I admit that the work is well staged, equally as to scenery, dresses, and mise-en-scène, but the plot and the dialogue are unworthy of serious criticism. When the curtain rose upon a capital "set" of the Thames near Greenwich Hospital, when there were a lively chorus and a pretty dance, I imagined I was "in" for what other occupants of the stalls would have called "a real good thing." But the characters had only to talk to cause a sense of depression to envelope me, that nearly moved me to tears. Ponderous allusions to such recent "topics" as Lord Charles Beresford's signal from the Royal Yacht at the Naval Review, the Endacott matter and Turkish impecuniosity now and again attracted my attention, and I felt that I would give worlds to slumber as does the hero in the Third Act who appropriately sings himself to sleep. But Mr. Cellier's music made a success of Dorothy, and it is not impossible that "the movement may be continued" in the Sultan of Mocha. Of those who take part in the performance I may single out Mr. Charles Danby as fairly amusing. I do not remember to have seen him before, and it is to be trusted that the applause of a London audience will not cause him to favour a policy of exaggeration. So far he is good—not too good (as Mr. Brough was wont to amusingly observe), but just good enough. The voice of Miss Violet Cameron is as strong as ever, but at times I traced a tremolo that might wisely be abandoned. Mr. C. H. Kenney has good intentions, and no doubt some day will be seen and heard to greater advantage. I was not surprised to learn from the playbill that as the Sultan Mr. Ernest Birch was making "his first appearance." Of the remainder of the cast, Mr. Bracy sang well and acted fairly as "a heart of oak," and the sailors, villagers, and slaves were sufficiently comely to satisfy the requirements of a Strand audience met together to enjoy an opéra bouffe.
A new lever de rideau added to the programme of the Globe has called attention to the merry moments of The Doctor. From the first this piece went wonderfully well—now it goes better than ever. The house is nightly full of patients, who seem willingly to give themselves over to what I may call "the laughter cure and joke treatment."
Dandy Dick has moved from the Court to King William Street, Strand. Mr. Clayton, capital as the Dean, and Mrs. John Wood inimitable, exquisite, everything-superlative as the lady horse-owner. Mr. Bishop now plays Mr. Arthur Cecil's part in a manner that reduces our regret at the absence of his predecessor to a minimum.
A wonderful piece called Racing, by the "Great Macdermott," is being performed at Islington. It is composed of a mixture of Comedy and Tragedy. Both ingredients are equally funny.
Removing my gibus, and laying down my programmes and opera-glasses, I again sign myself One Who Has Gone to Pieces.