"THE EMERALD ISLE."

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 11686, 22 June 1901, Page 5 (Supplement)

"THE EMERALD ISLE."

MUSIC BY SULLIVAN.

" The Emerald Isle : or, The Caves of CarricCleena," written by Captain Basil Hood and composed by Arthur Sullivan and Edward German, is one of Ihe most fascinating pieces of its kind that London has seen since the production of "Patience." And, first, is is right to make immediate recognition of Mr. German's share in the matter. Few tasks more difficult can be imagined, to our thinking, than tin; enforced completing ox a labour in which the first thing requisite was to subordinate one's power, one's originality, one's talents, to the bent of thought of another man's brain. Sullivan left a torso. The completion of it into a living work needed the most delicate sense of adjustment. Mr. German lias accomplished this with .so cleft a skill, so quick a pereeptiveness, so agile a feeling for dramatic lightness, that one was constantly used to enthusiasm over the triumph which has everywhere followed the realisation of his purpose. Moreover, it is not as though Air. German left one in any doubt as to his own original powers. .Many and many a time aiieady lie has shown his own personal skill and fine thoughtfuluess ; he has shown how real and genuine a musician he is, and it- is for this reason that we desire to put on immediate record the high individual success which he has won iu a v. oik which required no little self-abnegation.

The opera itself made an enormous popular hit. Not for one moment was its success in doubt. Xumber after number captured storms of applause; and at the end every hand was raised to show how completely the thing had won its great wager. Captain Basil Hood lias written a libretto in which wit and sentiment are forever changing places in a manner that compels irresistible admiration. Take, for example,, this delightful patter, which aroused storms of cheers : —

Though imitation parrots persistently poohpooli The progress of their country and her little

Emmie too. And lister fact with fiction and are satis-

tied forsooth, That they are not taradiddlers— only editors of truth!

" It would be so inexpensive And reduce the iiweome-tax If. when others grew offensive, Little England shouted ' I'as!' For we shouldn't lveecl a Navy, nor expensive Army Corps. If only we could count on having imitation wars."

We have made the quotation not so much as a solitary selection of admirable wit, but as exemplifying the wit which distinguishes the writing throughout. Captain Rood is forever surprising one into gusts of laughter. The unexpectedness of the Lord-Lieutenant continually talking in blank verse, as pitted against the prose of the other characters, the Devonshire dialect id' the muddle-headed sergeant, the strange twists of word, thought, and deed, on every hand, are quite enchanting in their humour and sheer cleverness of handling.

Sullivan's music is at every point exhilarating in its inspiration and careful in its facture. He was a. marvellous instance of one who was infinitely curious in his workmanship, and assiduously industrious in the .'caving of his fancies just to the right textuie," the right smoothness, the right lightness. There are little pathetic touches, too, here and there, of the. nicest quality. The little melody ••'Come away,' sighs the fairy voice"' has an innite charm in its brief bars; it is full of the tears hatbelongs to the quintessence of the Irish spirit; it is national in its intimacy, and catholic in its appeal. The opening chorus is admirably constructed, ami the entry of the soldiers most swinging in its effect. The conceited number and duet and dance — Song a rhyme Of " Once upon a time," is delightfully fresh and sweet, and many another number is there to prove the truth of our general criticism. Mr. German is admirable in such songs as "Oh, Set tin.' Sun," which has a golden sentiment, in the conceited number "1 Cannot Play at Love," in the delicious patter of "Oh, the Age in Which We're Living." in the inspiring song of the sergeant, "Now, 'litis be the Song of the Devonshire Men"—but, indeed, as we have practically said, he never fails in his idea!. Of the performers, we may say that all the familiar Savoyards were at their best.

Of the triumvirate, who worked so long and brilliantly together at the Savoy, till the association of their names in any new production was an earnest of triumphant success, only one was present at this delightful performance —namely, Mr. W. S. Gilbert, who lias just returned from a lengthened sojourn in Egypt, where we arc glad to hear his health was greatly benefited. Sad thoughts must have crowded through his brain as he recalled days grown old of great successes Achieved on this stage in collaboration with his dead friends, and how lie and they had stood together in front of the curtain and received the enthusiastic congratulations of crowded audiences.