Mr. Gilbert’s New Comic Opera, “His Excellency.”
Reynolds’s Newspaper issue no. 2307, Oct. 28 1894.
The brilliant audience which assembled at the Lyric Theatre last night, when Mr. W.S. Gilbert’s new comic opera “His Excellency” was produced, were unanimous that the piece was as bright and as merry as any seen for many a day on the London stage. Not that it equals the best of the Savoy series, either as concerns the labours of the writer, or the composer. Such a phenomenal string of works, in which author and musician constantly bettered their previous efforts, is not to be expected more than once in a generation.
First, let us say what the piece is about. His Excellency is the Governor of Elsinore. Practical jokes, in which his two pretty daughters join, are the aim of his life. Among these are the conferring of suppositious honours upon a young sculptor and a physician, who are in love with his daughters, and making his hussars drill in the dancing steps and poses of ballet girls. Wearied and exasperated on the detection of his numerous frauds, the people assail the Regent with complaints. He comes, disguised as a strolling player, to ascertain the truth. His Excellency induces the pretending vagrant to assume the role of Regent for the purpose of still further annoying the people by conferring new dignities and confirming old ones. This is accomplished, and soon afterwards, the Regent, proclaiming himself, he ratifies all that he has done, and degrades the Governor.
This, as may be judged, is a slight plot, but it affords scope for Mr. Gilbert’s whimsical humour. As the curtain rises it discloses a market-place, in which the people are assembled to congratulate Erling Sykke on the completion of the statue of the Prince Regent of Denmark, which occupies the centre of the stage. A word of praise may here be given to Mr. A.C. Lucchesi for the excellent figure which he has modelled. The eye and ear are alike struck with the busy and animated scene. The Medieval towers, the costumes, the banners, the music—the stage is alive with gaiety, the brilliant sun shines on a people enjoying themselves as in the golden days. When they go off, enters Christina, a ballad singer who falls in love with the statue, as the representative of what she considers all that a chivalrous knight should be. There is much pretty by-play of flirtation between the Governor’s daughters, Nanna and Thora, and the Sculptor and Physician. These jades won’t have their clever but poor lovers at any price, because
What is your wife to do for hothouse peaches?
The scene in which the hussars enter dancing, continue dancing, and drill dancing is one of the most comical in the opera, and there is much admirable feeling between Dame Heckla Cortlandt, a strong-minded and vigorous woman of property, within whose “fragile body two tremendous Powers are in perpetual antagonism—A Diabolical Temper, and an Iron Will”—and Mats Munck, the Syndic of Elsinore. When the Regent enters, he meets the ballad singer who, in answer to her exaggerated estimate of “real princes,” tells her they are not to be envied, because “the very fact that he can’t show his nose out of doors without an everlasting accompaniment of National Anthem is enough to make him turn Revolutionist, and cry aloud for his own downfall!” He then sings the following ballad:—
A King, though he’s pestered with cares, | ||
Though, no doubt, he can often trepan them; | ||
But one comes in a shape he can never escape — | ||
The implacable National Anthem! | ||
Though for quiet and rest he may yearn, It pursues him at every turn — |
||
No chance of forsaking | ||
Its rococo numbers; | ||
They haunt him when waking — | ||
They poison his slumbers! | ||
Like the Banbury Lady, whom everyone knows, He’s cursed with its music wherever he goes! Though its words but imperfectly rhyme, |
||
And the devil himself couldn’t scan then, | ||
With composure polite he endures every night | ||
That illiterate National Anthem! | ||
It serves a good purpose, I own: | ||
It strains are devout and impressive — | ||
Its heart-stirring notes raise a lump in our throats | ||
As we burn with devotion excessive; | ||
But the King, who’s been bored by that song From his cradle — each day — all day long — |
||
Who’s heard it loud-shouted | ||
By throats operatic, | ||
And loyally spouted | ||
By courtiers emphatic — | ||
By soldier — by sailor — by drum and by fife — Shall blame if he thinks it the plague of his life! While his subjects sing loudly and long, |
||
Their King — who would willingly ban them — | ||
Sits, worry disguising, anathematizing | ||
That Bogie, the National Anthem! |
The opening of the second and final act, presents a view of the Castle courtyard, where the aggrieved inhabitants assemble to lay their case before the Prince. The Governor and his daughters having, at the close of the preceding act, made mock petitions to the people for pardon for their practical jokes, all the time bursting with secret merriment, are now anticipating the crowning jape, which soon, however, ends disastrously for himself. The Sculptor and Physician receive their titles and their loves, the soldiers are bidden to dance no more, and every Jenny has her Jockey, while the Governor who, “from his birth, had a taste for April fooling,” is degraded to the ranks. Brisk and stirring as the opera is, it would be untrue to say that Mr. Gilbert’s libretto is so fecund in witticisms and verbal vagaries as in many of his previous efforts. As he makes His Excellency sing:
Though the notion you may scout, I can prove beyond a doubt |
|
That the mine of jocularity is utterly worked out! |
We will not say that of Mr. Gilbert, but it is certainly somewhat thin, which does not so much matter as the general effect is highly satisfactory.
Dr. Osmond Carr is to be congratulated on the music. If it reaches to no exceptional height, it does not contain a dull number, and there are many sparkling concerted movements, with one or two ballads of considerable merit. The chorus are particularly good. The prettiest song is undoubtedly that given to Christina in the second act, “A Hive of Bees as I’ve Heard Said.” There is a rather effective duet between the Corporal of Hussars and his ladylove, a bright dancing quartette.
His Excellency was Mr. George Grossmith, whose return to the London stage, after a prolonged absence, was cordially welcomed. The part did not afford him much scope, but what he had to do was done well, although, perhaps, he might have made the character a little more unctuous. The daughters were Miss Jessie Bond and Miss Ellaline Terriss, two very piquant performers, who looked charming in their pretty Danish dresses. Had their singing been as good as their acting, their performance would have been perfect. Miss Nancy McIntosh was Christina, the ballad singer. She possesses a sweet but not powerful voice, and has a very graceful stage presence. Mr. Rutland Barrington as the Regent played and sang as that most competent artist always does—that is to say, with perfect ease, finish, and success. Mr. John Le Hay in the part of the Syndic was the most amusing of all the characters. He extracted from a small part infinite fun. Miss Alice Barnett made a dramatic Dame, and Miss Gertrude Aylward and Miss May Cross satisfactorily filled minor parts. Mr. Arthur Playfair was a sprightly and energetic Corporal of Hussars; Mr. George Temple, Mr. Ernest Snow, and Mr. Frank Morton did effectively what was assigned to them. The stage groupings were admirable, the merited result of most careful rehearsals. The piece was received with every mark of approval, and it is likely to have a long and successful run.
Page modified 23 October 2020