GREENROOM GOSSIP.

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Volume X, Issue 486, 16 November 1899, Page 10

GREENROOM GOSSIP.

[By

Paul Pry.]

The following are the words of another patriotic song recently circulated. It has been sung to the air of an American military march, but it is intended to place the words with a musician and publish the composition. The song is entitled BOYS, RALLY ROUND THE UNION JACK. (Prompted by seeing t eN. Z. Contingent leaving Wellington for the Transvaal, 21st October, 1899). Boys, rally round the Union Jack, so dear to British eyes— The flag its foes would fain pull back from where it bravely flies; O’er land and sea, for liberty, it floats above us all; Then round that flag, for freedom, we will stand as one, or fall. What though its foes be powerful, and eager to attack, We’ll never let them cast a stain on our own Union Jack. Though thousands fall, we’ve thousands m re who would avenge the shame That jealous nations might, if let, inflict upon its name. Then rally round the Union Jack, and rally round the Queen— The grandest flag and noblest Queen this world has ever seen— For these, for God, and country let every Briton stand, And volunteer with eager heart from every far ofl land. Chobus. Then rally round the Union Jack, and rally round our Queen— The grandest flag and noblest Queen this world has ever seen— Our fathers faced their Waterloo—some died like men thereon — And we will proudly do the same when duty calls us on. C. de C. Williams. Our Christchurch dramatic correspondent writes —Here we are again on the eve of the Cai nival, and town is becoming as full as a prohib some- | times gets on plum wine or overproof hop beer. We are well off for shows, as per u-ual at this festive period. Bland Holt at toe Royal; Robert Henry about to open at the Opera House in a thrilling drama, yclept “Soldiers of the Queen,” in which is to be shown a British charge in the Transvaal, and the Boers all flying with their tails between their legs—which ought to catch-on with the grip of an octopus; the something or-other Handbell-ringers are due at the Choial fiall; and Ben Fuller, with a com; any as strong as dynamite, is holding the foit at Oddfellows’ Hall with the Waxworks, Punch and Judy, and a variety company including Fred. Bluett, who is reported to be funnier than a jest-book, and though I haven’t heard him yet, 1 mean to do so. * * Bland I

Holt is just packing the Royal with “ The White Heather” at time of writing, but announces a change of bill for Monday. When I dropped in last night the circle seats, save and except about half-a-dozen of the least desirable, were all ticketted “ Reserved,” and the weeping and wailing of those who came late and hadn’t “reserved” was terrible. Attendants were flying about up to within five minutes of the . curtain rising with chairs and camp stools —trying to find seats for unfortunate ladies who, like the immortal Mother Hubbard’s dog, found “ when they got there the cupboard was bare.” When “ the rag” at last rose, there were about fifty disconsolate ones still standing at the back and round the sides. Oh, it was pitiful—in a whole theatre-full of seats they had none I H’m, Tom Hood slightly altered. Reclining in my own very comfortable, plushcovered, and padded chair, I had serious thoughts of giving up my seat to some fair one in distress, but reflected, “ What is one amongst so many ?” —and sat still. They really ought to build a larger theatre, although, alas, the present building is quite large enough for some shows that bob up ■ there periodically. “ The White Heather” is a gorgeously-mounted melodrama in four acts and any number of scenes. The first shows a Scotch moor—daybreak being magnificently illustrated, it gradually grows lighter and lighter, until a burst of glorious sunshine exhibits the vast expanse of rugged heather clad moorland in all its beauty. Oh, the clapping and the stamping ! Other scenes show tea-gardens at Battersea Park, with cyclists and cyclistes arriving and departing continually, and perspiring waiters rushing hither and thither with plates a d dishes, and coffee and “ milk and roll one.” Then there is the interior of London Stock Exchange, with “ bulls and bears” hard at it, and then there is a stage rehearsal of a London burlesque —with Bland Holt as the stage manager—which is delicious. Lastly is shown a great fancy-dress ball, a colorstudy worth going miles to see. Miss Harrie Ireland shines in the emotional part of the heroine —the weepful is evidently her forte. Mr Styan (the new man) I don’t think much of, but the others are all old favorites, so I need say no more about them. * * * Hats off ! It is with real regret I have to chronicle the death of poor Captain Lorraine (aeronaut), reference to whom I made last week. Poor fellow, yesterday (Thursday)—his “ benefit” day—he ascended (assenting to arrangement) from Lancaster Park, and, as you will have read, parted company almost immediately with his parachute, fell with his balloon into the sea near Lyttelton Heads, a< d was drowned. His young wife is distracted. They had been but six months married. A public subscription is being raised for the unhappy creature. I trust it may result in much money being collected. At the same time I cannot help saying what I have often said before : these exhibitions should be sternly prohibited. “Butchered to make a Christchurch holiday” may be written of Lorraine. And yet, he had but himself to f blame, and knew that eve y time he went up he, literally, carried his life in his hand. How many fatalities of the kind to date does his death make ? Probably more than a score. It is frightful to think of. Let little Maoriland lead the way in this, as she has already lead it in other cases, and

prohibit parachute performances, under a penalty stiff enough to knock the whole thing on the head. * * * “Hercules” (the strong man with Ben Fuller’s show) was to have gone up with Lorraine on the fatal occasion—using, I presume, a separate parachute —but, happily for himself, he jibbed at the strong nor’-west wind, and declined on that occasion to make the ascent, remarking the weather was not fit for any man to go up in. And when Lorraine’s parachute fell, “ Hercules” (who, by the way, is a well-known

Aucklander) shouted to Lorraine (then 20 or 30ft in the air), “Drop, drop now!. I’ll catch you, even if I break my own neck in breaking your fall.” But Lorraine refused, evidently believing that he could get out of the fix in another wa,y. As the weight of the deflated balloon, with its cordage, etc., was 5001bs, the aeronaut has, doubtless (tangled up in it), gone to the bottom with it. The subscription list in aid of the widow had reached nearly £lOO this morning, £lO of which was donated by Bland Holt. A benefit concert has been arranged at the Opera House for tomorrow (Sunday), at which Bland Holt’s orchestra will give its service. The Henry Dramatic Company volunteered to assist, but the programme was already full. There is no one so ready to lend a helping hand in such cases as this as your often-despised “ mummer.” The last nights of “ The Belle of New York” are announced, so those who have been putting off the pleasurable evening had better lose no time in securing seats for to-night or to morrow (Friday), when the amusing musical farce will be givein for the last time during the present season of the “ popular Pollards.” During tbe run of the piece the audiences have greatly appreciated the dry and caustic humor of Mr Albert AVhelan as Ichabod Bronson, and the memory of his clever impersonation will remain long after the company has departed from the city. Nor shall we soon forget the sweet little Salvation Lass of Miss May Beatty, the captivating Fifi of Miss Maud Beatty, the rollicking attractiveness of “ The Queen of Comic Opera,” or the dashing red-stockinged music hall artiste of Miss Wilmot Karkeek. Mr Charles Carter in the part of Harry Bronson has developed remarkably. His singing is so much

more robust than formerly, and his acting is quite a hundred per cent, better than it used to be. Those old favorites, Messrs Percy, Quealey, and Fitts, have done excellent work as “ the polite lunatic,” Blinky Bill, and Smiffkins, while the twin counts of Alf. Stephens and Ernest liable were intensely amusing representations. Miss Tilly Woodlock, one of the new-comers, has proved a decided acquisition, and, as I have said before, her dancing is very dainty and very neat. The chorus and the ballets have been excellent all through, and if any further proof were wanted of the success of “ The Belle of New York,” it lies in the facts that the scenery is remarkably pretty, the conducting of Mr Binz excellent, and the staging capital. I hope we are only saying au revoir to “ The Belle,” and trust that when next she appears in Auckland the Pollards will take another £IOOO in six nights. Miss Marie Rayford and Frank Rayston left for Sydney by the Westralia on Monday. They go from Sydney to India to fulfil an engagement booked a long time ago. I wish them plenty of luck. W. H, Manning, who was until lately the man in advance for “ The Georgia Magnet,” was a passenger for Sydney by the Westralia. He goes on to Hobart, where he will manage two new theatres shortly to be opened. The Pollards accomplished last week something no other theatrical company has ever achieved in New Zealand. They took £IOOO in six nights from one play, “ The Belle of New York.” On the Prince of Wales’ Birthnight the proceeds were well over £2OO. What with the totalisator and the Pollards, Aucklanders seem to have plenty of money to spend. It is a good sign, however, for when races and theatrical companies are doing big business the city must be in a fairly prosperous condition. .. The usual crowded audience assembled at the City Hall on Monday night to welcome the new artists engaged by the Gaiety Company. The new-comers were Misses Edie and Marie Lingard and Mr Arthur Albert. The Sisters Lingard very soon became favorites. Their dancing was greatly appreciated, the great hit being a very neat and effective skipping-rope dance. The young ladies also scored in their sketches —“You Show Me Your Slate” and “ Stay at Home”— their singing being pretty, and they have a decided turn for humor. Mr Arthur Albert is a comic vocalist of great ability. He sang his songs with

any amount of vim, and, to use a slang expression, “ caught on” immensely. “ Para-Paraphernalia” amused the people greatly, while “ The Football Referee” and “ Why Didn’t They Send For Me” were also received with much applause. Of course Mr Albert was encored, and he responded nobly. Miss Lottie Lome was as successful as ever with her songs, and Miss Miriam Lewis was encored for her singing of “ Going to Market.” Mr Fred Leslie, jun., Mr Frank Yorke, and Mr Albert McKisson all had a big hand in amusing, the audience, while the Faust Sisters with their clever dancing, and the other members of the company rendered most valuable assistance towards the object of the management —that is, to give the public a first-class entertainment. On Saturday night the Pollards will put on “La Poupee.” Audran’s delightful work has been well received throughout the colony since its first production here, and it is safe to say that Aucklanders will employ the opportunity that is afforded them of witnessing the comic opera again.

Yesterday, Tom Pollard gave a wiatfwee performance of “ The Belle of New York,” in aid of the Transvaal War Fund. There was a capital house, and the fund should be largely augmented by this latest exhibition of the Pollards’ generosity. Charles Naylor, of Naylor’s Novelty Company, writes me that he has had a very successful tour of the North Island. At present the company is in Wanganui, giving a series of popular concerts. When the Wanganui season is over the company will tour the Thames district. Ben Fuller sends me word from Dunedin that, at the beginning of the month, his show at the Alhambra has been running for two hundred consecutive nights. This must be a record for a

variety entertainment. Miss Daisy Chard, Tom Edwards, and Walter Rivers are at present with Ben Fuller.

Our Taranaki correspondent writes (November 10) -Mr P. R; Dix’s Gaiety Company opened their coastal tour at New Plymouth on Tuesday evening last, and created a most favorable impression. The company was to have opened on Monday night and play a two-nights’ season, but, owing to the company being bar-bound in the Manukau, the company could not arrive in time

to fulfil their appointment. On the Tuesday night the company was greeted by a good house, and the audience spent a couple of merry hours listening to the clever “ turns” by the members of the combination. The musical sketch, ‘‘Waiting for the Train,” was, in my opinion, the trump casd of the programme, and it produced any amount of applause and hilarity amongst those present. The other members of the company acquitted themselves well. There was an entire absence of “ blue” business, but there were plenty of healthy, fun-producing scenes and situations. In mapping out his itinerary for the coastal tour Mr Dix must have been badly advised, as he omitted the towns of Stratford, Waitara, and Inglewood from the list. Mr Dix, however, intends to rectify this mistake on his return trip, which will come along about the New Year. Mr C. B. Fernaid’s new play, “ The Moonlight Blossom,” was given for the first time at the Prince of Wales’ Theatre, London, at the end of September. The production is a Japanese play with Japanese accessories, not a comic opera or a burlesque, but a serious and almost melodramatic composition in a purely native setting. The story set out in the three acts of the play is a fantastic one (says a London writer). It concerns the enmity of two step-brothers, one of whom is preserved from the effect Of the evil designs of the other through the virtues of a miraculous tree, the possession of which tends to nullify an agreement he had been by chicanery induced to enter into —-renouncing the family estates. The action is somewhat halting, and it is not always possible to appreciate the motives which dictate the actions of the principal characters. Moreover, there is something incongruous between the strictly Japanese garb, in which the piece is presented, and the occasionally somewhat painfully modern Western dialogue which is put into the mouths of the chief figures in the story. There is, how

ever, a certain poetic beauty about the drama which is attractive, and this, with the quaint dresses, the pretty scenery, and the clever acting of Mr Forbes Robertson and Mrs Patrick Campbell in the leading parts, tended to recommend it i to the favorable notice of a friendly audience. Writing of the latest production at the London Criterion, “ My Daughter-in-Law,” a critic says —Some ages before the dawn of history, a man in the palaeolithic age made a jest about a mother-in-law. Most of his descendants have, in some weak moment of their lives, made the same jest since then. It is, therefore, a high testimonial to its vitality that the joke can even to-day form the motif of a play. “My Daughter-in-Law” develops the machinations of a stage mother-in-law through three acts. To prove the cosmopolitan nature of its old jest, the play is attributed to two Frenchmen. The adaptor of the play preserves a programmatical incognito. The piece is intended to be after the subtle French manner—possibly reminiscent of the great Criterion series that included “ Pink Dominos” and “Betsy.” But it is not funny, and those farces were. Nobody got a real laugh all the way through it, and at times there were strong symptoms of the audience’s disapproval. Noticing “ The King of Fools” (a new play recently produced in London by Charles Cartwright) a dramatic critic says—lt is an excellent piece of work, reflecting the greatest possible credit on its adapters. Bristling with interesting situations, and full of exciting incident, the new drama goes with a swing from first to last, and if the applause which greeted its adapters at the close of the first performance be any criterion, the success of the play is fully assured.