_By Victor Who-goes-Everywhere._
_The Arabian Nights_, at the Globe, is a piece chiefly remarkable for
the performances of Messrs. HAWTREY and PENLEY, and Miss LOTTIE VENNE.
The play is an adaptation from the German. It has been "done into
English" at least once before, when, under the joint authorship of a
lady and gentleman, a version was produced with the very appropriate
title of _The Skeleton_. The Comedy in Newcastle Street, Strand, is
more than a framework, for it has sinews, and resembles, to some
extent flesh and blood. Miss LOTTIE VENNE has not been seen to so much
advantage since she embodied _Betsy_ at the Criterion; and Mr. PENLEY,
in his get-up, suggests that he has not altogether forgotten a
character he played years ago in _Our Club_. The part now taken by Mr.
HAWTREY was, I believe, originally intended for Mr. WYNDHAM. The plot
is of the usual character. A married man, in the absence of his wife,
gets involved in a more or less innocent flirtation with some one
else, and, to escape from this entanglement, on the return of his
better half, has to trust to his power of invention as a substitute
for a plain statement of facts. Mr. HAWTREY, as the embarrassed
husband, was guilty of verbal equivocation (to use a pleasant
substitute for "lying") with an earnestness that insured success. This
is very like somebody's piece called _Truth_ at the Criterion. _The
Arabian Nights_ is a kind of piece that will be the better for
"working up," and indeed it is a joke which will be improved by
repetition. Some of the lines are so daring, that only a male GRUNDY
could have written them. If the well-known lady of the same name had
heard them, I fancy they would have been erased by request. On the
first night, however, all went well, and I can only trust that every
succeeding audience will be equally appreciative, and not more
exacting.
[Illustration: Rather a Close Shave.]
I frankly admit that the Royal Westminster Aquarium has a terrible
fascination for me. It is not the fact that years ago it was opened by
the Duke of EDINBURGH, as a tribute to the memory of the late lamented
Prince CONSORT, that attracts me, nor do I think that the recollection
that the Survivors of the Balaclava Charge take their annual dinner in
commemoration of the battle of the 25th of October on the second-floor
back favourably impresses me--no, I imagine that I am drawn towards it
by the posters. Certainly the hoardings persuaded me to see _La Belle
Fatma_ and to assist at a _seance_ with the Wolves. The other evening
I was lured within its highly illuminated walls by the announcement
that those who were present in the stalls in front of the Central
Stage at ten o'clock would see a Shaving Contest. Two barbers were to
shave a number of members of the public for the stakes of L50 or L100
(I forget which) a side. I arrived in good time and was told (I
fancied rather contemptuously) that the contest was to come off in
"the Balloon Room." I made my way to this mysterious apartment, which
proved to be a hall decorated with charts and maps and not too
brilliantly lighted by one gas-jet. A small man, assisted by a
smaller, stood in front of several chairs, behind which were ranged
toilet necessaries. A mildly-spoken gentleman in evening dress and a
neck scarf then addressed the audience (chiefly composed of persons in
pot hats), and told them (so I understood him to say) that "the
Management" had considered it better to have the entertainment in the
Balloon Room instead of the Central Stage as more appropriate. He then
was loud in his admiration of a patent American razor, which was
passed from hand to hand for inspection amongst the audience. After a
while some youths were induced to come up to be shaved, and were
shaved by the small barber whose eyes had been covered with a bandage
before the commencement of the operation. When the first youth was
"done," the mildly-spoken gentleman observed that he had great
pleasure in announcing that the gentleman had been shaved by Mr.
So-and-so, (I forget the barber's name) blindfolded, without having
been cut! This encouraging information was received with cheers, but I
could not help fancying that the audience was not subsequently quite
so eager to assist by submission to the razor in contributing to the
blindfolded barber's triumph. Then the mildly-spoken gentleman
announced that the contest would not come off, for some reason that
was not quite clear to me. Hereupon a rather aggressive person claimed
to be shaved--and shaved he was, also another person of an older
growth than the first applicants. The aggressive person turned upon
his co-shavist (if I may be allowed to coin a word) and feeling his
chin declared him to be only half shaved. Then several other persons
felt the man's chin and expressed the same opinion. Then there was a
"scene," which I understood the mildly-spoken gentleman to declare to
be "an unseemly altercation," and officers of the institution in
uniform were introduced. The aggressive person continued his
aggressiveness, and claimed to be the Champion Shaver of a large
territory including (I think) both the inhabited and uninhabited
portions of the globe. Then a gentleman in morning dress, connected
with the Management appeared, and we were all requested politely to
leave. I followed with the crowd, for I had an idea (no doubt it was a
foolish fancy) that if I had not I should have been "chucked out." I
spent the rest of the evening in admiring a lady who claimed to be one
of the strongest women, if not the very strongest woman in the world,
and wondering why, before having a cannon fired off, from the support
of her shoulder, she should think it necessary to wave the British
flag and appear in the costume of BRITANNIA.
The Lord Mayor's Procession was also a "Show," and a very important
Show of the week. It has been so fully described that it requires only
a passing notice. The cars on their return were more pleasing than on
their first appearance, for when seen with the horses' heads turned
westwards the poor creatures, engaged to grace our London holiday,
were shivering in the heavy downpour. Even Father Thames (who should
have been in his element) seemed dissatisfied. When dismissed at the
Royal Courts, and told they might make the best of their way home, the
thinly-clad representatives of Music, Prosperity, and Commerce, were
allowed to assume shawls and wraps, and other protections from the
weather. Why before starting were they not all supplied with
umbrellas? It is true that BRITANNIA would have looked a little
incongruous with a _parapluie_.--I put this in French in honour of the
Brave Beige Mi Lor DE KEYSER,--but, on the other hand, she did not
seem _much_ like England without one. The Show was like all its
predecessors, inasmuch as it served once more as an excuse for a
subsequent luncheon party in pleasant company, and again afforded the
populace a glimpse of the LORD MAYOR and Corporation in their not very
frequently assumed characters of the wealthy Unemployed.
* * * * *
Strictly Private.
(_From Mr. Secretary B-LF-R._)
STOKES! STOKES!
No more of your jokes,
In sending O'BRIEN to gaol.
For what we're to do,
With _him_--all through you--
Is a puzzle; you've shown _trop de zele_.
* * * * *
More Reminiscences.
We've scarcely done _with_
Our bright Mister FRITH,
When out comes a dollop
By T. DOLLY TROLLOPE
* * * * *
PROFESSORS OF THE "DECORATIVE" ARTS.--General CAFFAREL and Madame
LIMOUSIN.
* * * * *
A BURLY GENTLEMAN.--The Moral out of the Hurly-Burleigh affair is
this, When an Editor commissions one of his "salaried assistants," as
Sir COUTTS-LINDSAY might term them, to report the proceedings of such
a meeting as that held in Trafalgar Square, he should apply to the
Chief Commissioner of Police for a _passe-partout_, which would serve
as a trump card to be played when in doubt. It was rather hard on the
doughty Soudan Correspondent, who is every inch a soldier--round the
waist included--to be Soudanly "run in." It is one thing to be taken
up by the Proprietors of the _Daily Telegraph_, and quite another to
be taken up by the Police. Still as _Mr. Weller Senior_ persisted in
asking, "Why worn't there an Alleybi?" so we cannot help regretting
that Mr. BENNETT BURLEIGH had not been furnished with proper
credentials.
* * * * *
Rather Mixed.
_Pugilist Enthusiast (to Musical Ditto)._ I'm glad they gave SULLIVAN
a bouquet.
_Musical Ditto (on the wrong tack)._ He deserves it. I see they've put
his _Pinafore_ on again.
_Pugilistic Enthusiast (puzzled)._ His pinafore! What's that for?
_Musical Ditto._ To give him breathing time, I suppose, before he
makes his next hit. Ta Ta!
[_Exit Musical Ditto without further explanation._
* * * * *
Mr. WALTER BESANT wrote to the _Times_ last Saturday to deny having
signed a petition in favour of the Chicago Anarchists. He admitted
that he had received such a petition, to which he had not returned any
answer. Mr. BESANT, in his dealings with "all sorts and conditions,"
should remember that "silence gives consent"--an aphorism (is this all
right, Mr. MORLEY?) naturally attributed to TACITUS.
* * * * *