Music and Drama.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIX, Issue V, 2 August 1902, Page 298

Music and Drama.

Dramatic affairs are still deadlydull all over New Zealand.

Mr Harry Plimmer has been select-’ ed to play the name part in “Sherlock Holmes” with Mr Williamson’s Dramatic Company.

Mr Dix's variety shows in the various centres are still drawing good houses, and business will probably increase week by- week now that there is so little opposition throughout the colony.

Miss Violet Mount, for some time a resident of Auckland and Wellington, and who took part in “lolanthe” as staged by the Auckland Amateur Opera Club, is apparently getting on well in Sydney. Her first concert there was well attended.

The report that Melba will give two concerts in New Zealand, one in Auckland and the other in Wellington, with the possibility of a third in either Christchurch or Dunedin, probably the former, is partly substantiated by her relatives in this colony. They- say she writes that she is coming. Let us all hope so.

Wirth’s Circus is doing excellent business in Auckland, where the children go again and again and take their parents. But it is proving a most unfortunate winter for the animals. In addition to the bear and the ape, both very highly trained animals, the brothers have now lost the young lioness which Mons. Raogoul had just begun to train.

Miss Ada Crossley states that her chief reasoi for abandon.ng /e Australian tour provisionally arranged by her some months ago with Herr Wolff, is that she has found it impossible to cancel, except at the cost of heavy penalties, a number of the English festival engagements for 1903, which she entered into before the tour was projected. She was also influenced by- the advice of her London agents, who said it would be very injudicious to withdraw from her engagements, particularly aS on the whole they were already- more important than any- series that she had had in previous years.

Mr Clifford Walker, who greatly delighted the Wellington audiences who saw him, andn whose visit to the. Northern cities is being eagerly looked forward to, is one of the very best “one man” entertainers who have visited this part of the world. He is always amusing, always bright, very often brilliant, and never for a single instant vulgar. His musical sketches are airy and light, delicate of detail, and full of quaint humour. His sermon on the text of “Pat a cake” is decidedly clever, and miles ahead of that good chestnut of the same sort. “Old Mother Hubbard.” It is a good bit of gentle satire, extremely funny, y-et free of nught that could offend the most sensitive curate or enthusiastic church goer.

To give some idea of the labour and expense attached to the production of a comic opera it may be stated that for “The Messenger Boy” at the Princess, no less than 70 ladies’ costumes were made locally under the supervision of Mrs Pollard and Miss A. Drumm, the millinery being in the hands of Miss Dow. The excellent manner in which the work has been turned out is a credit to all concerned. It is estimated that £5OO will not cover Mr Pollard’s initial expenses in staging “The Messenger Boy.” Mr Leader Williams, the senior artist of the Pollard Opera Company, is responsible for several pretty sets in the new production.

Tamago, in many ways the greatest tenor the world has ever seen, had a rough time before he made his name. ’’My- father kept a modest restaurant in Turin, and his sons, e’ght in number, helped and looked lifter things.

My ambition looked far beyond the carrying of litres of wine. I went to the Teatro Reggio to see if I could not join the chorus. I thought my voice good enough for a hearing. The impresario, old Corti, engaged me for a season, saying: ’lf you study well and behave you will become bravi coristi, and who knows but, in time, you may even get to London and have thirty shillings a week.’ One of the maestri attached to the theatre, Pedrotti, soon singled me out, and taught me music and singing. An accident, which befel the tenor, who sang BoisRose in the ‘Ra-ta-plan’ of the ‘Huguenots,’ gave me my opportunity, and I made quite a hit. I was given the minor tenor parts of our repertory at a salary of 250 francs for the season. The impresario, according to Italian theatrical custom, wanted to deduct 5 per cent, for commission from this meagre pay, but I struck, and compromised with the gift of a hare which I had just received as a present.

A very interesting book of stage reminiscences is just published, namely, “Life on the Stage: My Personal Experiences and Reminiscences,” by Clara Morris. From Miss Morris's pages, it would seem, that the stag© has been grievously maligned on the score of free and easy morality. Thejre is not in her whole book a reference to any irregularity in relationships; the actors and actresses who march in procession are for the most part model married couples united by the tenderest bonds of affection. There is hardly a nint of conjugal infelicity, and little mention of. the temptations besetting girls struggling up the lower rungs of the ladder. One “poor little ballet girl” only we read of Who “fell from our ranks, and was drawn into that piteous army of women who, with silk pettieoats and painted eheeks, seek joy- in the bottom of the wine-cup.” Miss Morris says that her former associates used to close their dressing-room door and lower their voices in pity when they spoke of her. The authoress is evidently a woman of delicate feeling, determined, for all her candour in other matters, to paint stageland at its fairest in this respect.

During his visit to England Mr George Musgrove, so Mr T. P. Hudson, his general manager, informed an “Evening News” reporter, has been on the look-out for pieces, in which Miss Nellie Stewart will have an opportunity of displaying her ability. He desired to buy the rights of “Olivia” for Australia, but was unable to do so. It was probably, however, out of this circumstance that the thought of visiting Australia next year shaped itself in Sir Henry Irving’s mind. He, of course, with Miss Ellen Terry, shines in this particular play. Anyway, Mr Musgrove made a reference to negotiations with Sir ■Henry Irving, and although Hie eal le has stated nothing regarding management. Mr Hudson thinks that the Irving-Terry visit will be under Mr Musgrove’s direction. Mr Musgrove has already secured two plays for Miss Stewart, viz., “The Country Mouse,” and “Mice and Men.” The latter is the piece in which Mr Forbes Robertson and Miss Gertrude Elliott have proved so successful in London In addition, Mr Musgrove has obtained the complete paraphernalia of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” fiom the Prince’s Theatre, Manchester. An old favourite, Mr Robert Courtneidge, who has been managing director of that theatre for some years, will come to stage the prod lie •! n. M- Hudson is awaiting further particulars.

Some fifty years ago Roger, a celebrated tenor, gave a supper, at which Berlioz was present, and also the musical critic Fiorentino.

Tn the early hours of the morning Fiorentino got. up “to stretch his legs,” as lie said, and strayed into the next room, where there was an

interesting collection of firearms. In a few minutes he came back carrying a gun, and in the spirit of mischief began -to point it about in the most reckless manner. Finally, he turned it upon Berlioz. “I am going to kill Berlioz,” he said. "He is a formidable rival. Hu is in my way as a musical critic.” Berlioz turned pale and shook with fear, but his host assured him that the gun was not loaded. Fiorentino changed his aim. “Berlioz isn’t worth killing, after all,” said he. “I shouldn’t get his place, for they’d say I’d used undue influence. Now, I’ve a grudge against grand opera, and against Meyerbeer for not having handed me over a part of his gains. So I'll kill Roger, for that will stop the receipts at the Opera House.” Thereupon he took alm at his host, who, feeling sure that the gun was not loaded, did not budge an inch. But in another second Fiorentino changed his mind again. “There’s no pleasure in killing Roger,” said he. “He isn’t even afraid of dying. But I must kill something. I’ll kill his portrait.”

He turned the muzzle of the gun towards a full-length picture of tha tenor, pulled the trigger, and, to everybody’s horror, simply riddled the canvas with shot.

Apropos of the Irving-Ellen Terry tour of Australia and New Zealand, an Australian critic observes: — There is probably no announcement of a theatrical tour which could have been made that will create more interest, more suppressed excitement, not only among playgoers, but among artists, than that of the Irving-Terry visit. Their names are household words wherever the English language is spoken. They have tested on more than one occasion the criticism of American playgoers —indeed, they have but recently returned to England from that country —and the result has been on each occasion a veritable triumph. It would be, therefore, unnatural if Australia did not anxiously desire to see and hear this, the actor, and this, the actress, of the day in those characters in which their names have been made. The only fear was that age might have dimmed the lustre of their art before their arrival, but the verdict of America and London at the present time should be an effectual reply to that. There is one phase of Irving’s acting that will surely strike colonial audiences, as it does English, and that is his mannerisms. The “Athenaeum,” writing on that point in 1875, was extremely severe, and it was noticed that they’ were toned down. His faults of elocution are summed up In an eccentric habit of selecting for special emphasis some syllables and words possessing no perceptible claim to any such distinction, and of giving to such syllables and words a degree of quantity, as distinguished from mere accent, altogether unknown to any system of prosody'. But he boasts the great actor’s gift or art of at once riveting the attention of his audience; presently his influence will extend more and more, till each word and glance and action—take, for Instance, his Louis XII, —of the strange king he represents, so grotesque of aspect, so eat-like of movement, so ape-like of gesture, so paltry and vile

and cringing a poltroon, are watched and followed with a nervous absorption that has something about it of fascination, or even of terror.

Some very curious experiments have recently been carried out in the German Zoological Gardens in order to ascertain the actual influence of music

upon animals. The instrument was the violin and Herr Baker was the performer. Of all the animals the puma was the most sensitive to the musical influence. His moods changed rapidly according to the nature of the melody, the animal frequently becoming very excited and nervous, “just like a Frenchman,” as the report says. Leopards were entirely unconcerned, but the lions appeared to be afraid, although their cubs wanted to dance when the music became livelier. The hyenas were very much terrified, but the monkeys were merely curious and interested. Wolves, on the other hand, were highly appreciative and seemed to beg for an encore. The experiments are to be continued and with a variety of instruments, in order to distinguish between the mental states which are actually produced by the music and those which are merely the result of an unusual experience.

Mr H. W. Lucy, London correspondent of the “Sydney Morning Herald,” says he recently met one of the “Trilby” set hit off in Du Maurier’s novel and play. The “Trilby” artists shared a studio with Du Maurier at Paris in the fifties. Amongst its rare and prized pieces of furniture was a piano, at which Du Maurier was constantly playing when he ought to have been working. He had a beautiful tenor voice, and was always ready to oblige. Du Maurier developed a dangerous tendency towards laziness, He (obtained a slight foothold on “Punch,” which, owing to this characteristic, he was in danger of losing. Mark Lemon, then editor, found it necessary to t-alk seriously to him. Soon after Du Maurier married, and the course of his life changed- He buckled to his work and speedily rose to pre-eminence. Sir Walter Besant, in his autobiography, describes his first meeting with Du Maurier at Cambridge: “One day Calverley, then a fellow, stopped me in the court, and invited me to his rooms after hall. ‘l’ve got a young Frenchman,’ he said- ‘He’s clever. Come and be amused.’ I went. The young Frenchman spoke English as well as anybody; he told stories in a quiet, irresponsible way, as if he was an outsider looking on at the world. No one went to chapel that evening. After the port, which went round with briskness for two or three hours, the young Frenchman went to the piano, and began to sing in a sweet, flexible, high baritone or tenor. Presently somebody else took his place at the instrument, and he, with Calverley and two or three dummies, performed a Royal Italian opera in very fine style. The young Frenchnaan’s name was George Du Maurier. Years af-ter-wards, when I came to know him. I reminded him of tips blissful evening—which he remembered perfectly. One of the songs which he sang in French had a very sweet and touching air. Calverley remembered it, and Sendall wrote some verses for it.”