_By Victor Who-goes-Everywhere._
[Illustration]
Last week was remarkable for a number of _Matinees_. There were two,
each with a new Play, at the Vaudeville, in preparation apparently for
the disappearance of _Sophia_. The Author of one of the pieces was, I
fancy, Mr. JONES (the name fixed itself on my memory), but I am not
quite so sure about the others. I rather think the first play was
written in collaboration possibly by Messrs. BROWN and ROBINSON to
complete the immortal _trio_. However, the morning performance _par
excellence_, was the production of a new and original poetical drama in
five Acts, called _Nitrocris_, by GEO. GRAVES, at Drury Lane. This was
really a very interesting occasion, as we were taken back to B.C. 1420,
and I must admit that I too was rather taken aback when I found the
Early Egyptians talking of the "Pharmacopoeia," and many other matters
of a yet more recent date. I supposed this was local colouring, and when
I saw the "Banquetting Hall in the Palace," I felt sure that the
Egyptian Court represented belonged to the Nineteenth Century, and could
be easily discovered (either by season ticket or on payment of a
shilling) in Sydenham. The Author supplies a note in the official
programme, in which she informs the World that AMUN-MYKERA NITOCRIS was
"handsome among women, and brave among men, and governed for her husband
with great splendour and much justice, though she is rebuked by several
of the ancient historians for her cruelty and sensuality," and no doubt
these facts have suggested the five long Acts of the more or less
poetical play. What story there is shows how the adopted son of and
apprentice to an Embalmer, after being left to die in the Palace of
_Nitocris_ for refusing to join in an unpatriotic toast, escapes, and
twelve weeks later is lured back once more to the Royal realms to reject
the suddenly-kindled love of the Egyptian Queen in favour of the
affection of a Grecian orphan called _Soris_, who happens to be staying
on a visit with her swarthy Majesty. Then _Soris_ gets half-poisoned and
entirely stabbed, and _Nitocris_ and the Embalmer's Apprentice repair to
a "stretch of desert in the neighbourhood of the Pyramids," to be
drowned in an inundation which is much talked about but never seen. As
the Embalmer's Apprentice, Mr. J. H. BARNES fostered the impression that
he was either a very slow and dull pupil, or that the art of embalming
had taken him a middle-aged lifetime to thoroughly acquire. In the last
act he looked like a portly Friar of Orders Grey sadly in need of the
fast rising Nile. Mr. ROBERT PATEMAN was good as a nigger _Quasimodo_,
who apparently had nothing in particular to do save to murder Miss ALMA
MURRAY when that popular young _tragedienne's_ sorrows became monotonous
and required curtailment in the interests of the audience. Mr. FERNANDEZ
too was useful as Chief of the Magi, and Mr. BERNARD GOULD'S performance
would have been more pleasing had he really died at the end of the
Second Act, instead of living to see the final fall of the curtain. But
this last was rather the Author's than the actor's fault. Personally I
should have been better satisfied had every one died at the end of the
First Act, but I confess I am a little exacting. On Wednesday, after the
"principals" had been called and received more or less applause, there
was a cry for the Authoress, when to my surprise a lady in a
semi-masculine costume and seemingly in her "teens," made her way before
the curtain. This was young "CLO,"--a most charming person to judge from
her personal appearance. There was a further "call" when a gentleman of
much maturer years was seen bowing. I do not know if he was also a
"CLO,"--if so, he was unquestionably a much older "CLO"--in fact, quite
an elderly "CLO." Ages ago a wonderful piece called _Nitocris_ was
played at Drury Lane for a few nights with moderate success. In it was
represented an inundation, that, if it did not precisely resemble the
waters of the rising Nile, at any rate was a capital realisation of
green-coloured muslin sprinkled with spangles. I am afraid that young
"CLO'S" poetical play will not keep the stage much longer than its
predecessor.
[Illustration: Full in Front.]
It was my good fortune to be present at the opening of the Manchester
Exhibition (which _Mr. Punch_ very appropriately christened the "Gem of
the Jubilee,") and on Thursday last I again paid it a visit with about
sixty-five thousand other persons. In spite of the hurricane of the
preceding Monday, the building was in an excellent condition, and the
reproduction of the old part of the ancient city had weathered the storm
as if it had been intended to remain for a thousand years instead of
half-a-dozen months. I was much struck with the extreme good-nature of a
Lancashire crowd. In the afternoon a severe shower of rain, which I
fancy must have come down from Town by the 10.10 Express from Euston (a
train which maintained the tradition of the L. & N. W. R. by arriving to
the minute) drove all the pleasure-seekers from the grounds into the
building, and for a moment there was an "ugly block." Immediately the
police and the other officials organised a stream right and left, and
when it was found that there were many schools amongst the sight-seers,
a cry of "Make way for the children!" secured the safety of the little
ones. The picture galleries were as popular as ever, and I observed that
the crowd generally gathered in dense masses near the paintings with
historical events as their subjects. The arrival of the Princess of
WALES at Gravesend was particularly favoured, and some regret was
expressed that the Benchers of the Middle Temple had required the return
of the portrait by HOLL of their Royal Treasurer. The splendid display
of the works of Mr. WATTS did not attract much attention, one lady
observing that it was "a pity that they had not been finished," and
their opposite neighbours by Mr. BURNE-JONES, were also a little above
the heads (in more senses than one) of the average shilling public. But
LANDSEER, MILLAIS, POYNTER and HOLMAN HUNT had thousands of earnest
admirers, and there were always enthusiastic groups in front of "_The
Derby Day_" and "_Ramsgate Sands_." It was delightful to walk through
the galleries devoted to this unique, this magnificent collection of
purely native Art, only saddened by the reflection that such an
opportunity would never offer itself again. The machinery, from another
point of view, was nearly as interesting. I have been present at many
Exhibitions, but have never seen anything to equal the display of "works
in operation." Both visitors and "hands" seemed to be equally in
earnest; the first to watch, and the second to work. Then the music was
excellent, as, indeed, it was obliged to be to satisfy the requirements
of Manchester connoisseurs, who are not to be put off with second-rate
bands. Lastly, the illuminated fountains were absolutely fairy-like with
their colours reflected from below the water-line. And this reminds me
there was also something else fairy-like--the _table d'hote_ dinner
served in the Conservatory, which seemed (with its many courses, of the
daintiest proportions) to be exactly suited to the wants of _Titania_
and (if he took the hint printed on the menu, and "requiring extra
quantities of any of the dishes," asked for more) of the robuster
_Oberon_. The captious might certainly have objected that the dessert
would have been more satisfactory had nut-crackers been supplied with
the walnuts. I asked for a pair, but was told by my waiter that he could
get me none. No doubt this little defect will be remedied when the
contractor fulfils his intention of catering next year at the Brussels
Exhibition. But this is a detail. For the rest, the Manchester
celebration of the Fiftieth Year of Her Majesty's reign has been worthy
of the occasion; and my second visit has fully confirmed the opinion
(that was expressed in May last) that the leading town of Lancashire has
produced the Gem of the Jubilee.
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