Mr. Barlow. It is a French burlesque—a vehicle for extravagances in costume, in acting, and in singing. It is in one, two, three, or even five Acts, and differs from the English burlesque in that it is written in prose, and depends mainly for its success upon the original music written for it by some composer, instead of on selections from various popular sources. In this piece, for example, the dialogue is prosy—I mean in prose—and the music has been written to suit it. I think we may, therefore, suppose this piece to be an English Opéra bouffe.
Tommy (during the First Act). I do not understand what characters these worthy people represent who are trying their best to divert us.
Mr. Barlow, who had been giving the play his closest attention, seemed to be unable to enlighten his pupil, and requested him to listen to what was going on, and occasionally refer to the programme, by which means he would probably arrive at some definite conclusion.
Harry. Truly, Sir, this piece reminds me of what you told me about Newton's Laws of Motion, and I look forward to being very happy and lively to-morrow morning.
Mr. Barlow. I am glad to hear it, Harry. But how do you connect such a result with the Laws of Motion?
Harry. Because, Sir, you told me that "Forces acting and reacting are always equal and contrary to each other." So, Sir, after this night is over, we may fairly expect a most exhilarating reaction.
Tommy was so much struck by this fresh instance of Harry's capacity for adapting his learning to whatever circumstances might present themselves, that he determined to learn the science of mechanics on the very first opportunity.
The audience continued to listen to the piece with a serenity which nothing could disturb, except the occasional appearance of Mr. Toole, who gave utterance to such quaint drolleries, of his own introduction, as sent the people into short spasms of laughter, in which Master Tommy most heartily joined, while Mr. Barlow applauded as loudly as the rest of the company. But Harry, whose temper was not quite so pliable, could not conceal the weariness that was gradually creeping over him. He gaped, he yawned, he stretched, he even pinched himself in order to keep his attention alive, but all in vain. He managed to rouse himself twice; once when Mr. Toole was singing an additional verse to his song (where, indeed, the accompaniment, consisting-of railway noises, would not let him sleep), and once when Mademoiselle Clary was exercising her skill in a rather pretty melody. But at length the narcotic influence of the dialogue, conspiring with the opiate charms of the music, he could resist no longer, but insensibly fell back upon his stall, fast asleep. This was soon remarked by his neighbours, who straightway conceived an unfavourable opinion of Harry's breeding, while he, in the meantime, enjoyed the most placid repose, undisturbed by either the envious remarks of some among the audience, or by the nudgings administered to his elbow by his friend Tommy; and, indeed, his slumber was not entirely dissipated until the performance was finished.
Harry (on their return to their Lodgings). Your remarks, Tommy, to-night remind me of the story of Polemo and the Continuous Highlander.
Mr. Barlow here made some excuse for retiring to his room; and as Harry was on the point of commencing the story, Tommy asked him to await his return, as he was only going to fetch his slippers, in order to sit and listen more comfortably to his friend's narrative.