The STAGE

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume IX, Issue 452, 23 March 1899, Page 9

The STAGE

|_By

Orpheus.]

•* Orpheus ** will be glad to hear from those managers of theatrical companies touring New Zealand who desire that the public shall know the movements of the companies. Any information as to dates, etc., will be acknowledged in these columns, as well as any other items of interest to the theatrical world. All letters should be addressed —•* Orpheus,” SPORTING AND DRAMATIC REVIEW, Vulcan Lane. Auckland.

A. concert, tendered by the Auckland Lieder tafel to Mr Walter Kirby, takes place this (Thursday) evening at the Choral Hall. Mr Kirby, whose fine tenor voice and cultured style have won golden opinions here, is leaving shortly for Europe to continue his studies. Besides the Liedertafel (under Mr A. Towsey), the Misses Lorrigan, Maud Howard, Mcjntyre, Quinn, Stella Alexander, and Messrs Wilfred Manning and Walter Kirby will render choice selections. So attractive a programme, and the popularity of the beneficiare, should ensure a crowded house. I would remind readers that the benefit concert referred to last week takes places to-night (Thursday) in St. James’ Hall. A tempting programme and a deserving object should fill the hall. A

Mr Ernest Toy, a young violinist of exceptional talent, is probably by this time on his way to New Zealand with a concert company of Victorian artists,including Miss Renee Lees (pianiste), Mr Hahn (tenor), and Miss Maud Dalrymple, a contralto who is most highly praised by good judges of singing. Miss Alice Simmons was to be the soprano. The company was to open in Wellington.

Year after year pantomime and extravaganza builders, at their wits end for new material, are driven to the time-honored “ Forty Thieves,” . “ Aladdin/’ “ Dick Whittington,” “ The Babes in ? the'j.Wbod,” etc., etc. Wbat about the New Robinson Crusoe in the shape of Louis de Rougemont, whose adventures are still continued in The Wide Wide World Magazine ? Surely, ■, before next Christmas, an enterprising librettist will have constructed out of the abundant materials to be called from his history a new and original pantomime, extravaganza, or melodrama —perhaps all three—which should achieve unbounded popularity. He may, or may not, be a Munchausen. He may be Gries, and not De Rougemont. But, if a fraud, he is at least splendide mendax. In the last number of The Wide Wide World the editor, in a head-note, very sensibly says: “ His story was told in these offices over a period of several months, during which time he never contradicted himself once. But, after what has transpired, we wish it to be understood distinctly that we do not publish it as a true narrative, but only as it is given to us the author, leaving it to the general public to believe as much or little as they please. It is admitted that portions of the story are founded on his own experiences. In any case the story is so crowded with vivid, graphic, and consistent details, that it marks its author, if not a speaker of truth, at least as a master of fiction who has had no equal in. bur language since Defoe. As The World

‘ Truth is stranger than fiction, But De Rougemont is stranger than both.’ ” In the present number, however, there is a discrepancy which the clever illustrator endeavors to put right. The hero, with his faithful lubra (Yamba) and the performing dog (Bruno) is making a perilous journey into the unexplored interior. Suddenly Yamba cries “Up a tree, quick 1” and suits the action to the word. De Rougemont skins up another tree and asks Yamba what is the matter. A huge army, composed of myriads of rate, answers the question by sweeping all before it —slaying: and devouring lizards, snakes, and even large kangaroos. No living thing is spared One is tempted to say, “ Alas, poor; Bruno !” for the letter-press has not a word about his fate. A few pages on it is a relief to fin l Bruno standing on his head, while his master propitiates a hostile tribe by dancing a fandango to a reed pipe. Turning back to the rat picture . we find De Rougemont high up in the fork of a big tree with Bruno in his arms. Now, how did the master get his dog up ? To have climbed the tree with the dog in his arms in a manifest impossibility. For the dog unaided to make the assent is ditto ditto. Here is a hint for the next addition: Bruno, being a trained dog, makes a leap at his master’s bow—the picture appropriately draws a very long bow —and is hauled up safely ensconced between the string and the stave. Of course, De Rougemont leans over the fork of the tree, with the bow as near as possible to the ground, and exclaims “Jump, Bruno, jump!” But, to return to our muttons, the wealth of incident and sensations in this marvellous tale would really open quite a Klondyke of opportunities for play-wrights, scenic artiste, and stage-carpenters. Just imagine, for example, the charge of an army of rats ! “ Orpheus” generously makes a present of the idea. Of course, the proprietors will have to be consulted as to dramatic rights.