Calvé was in the cast, but the opera provided no scope for her genius, and _Punch_ damned it with faint praise as not likely to be retained in the repertory, a very safe prediction. In the summary of the season _Punch_ puts Richter at the head of the successes, a well-merited recognition of his direction of the Wagner performances; the list of "stars" includes the "two Vans"--Van Rooy, the Dutch baritone, and Van Dyck, the Dutch tenor--Destinn, Calvé and Melba, Caruso and Plançon. In the winter the San Carlo troupe from Naples visited London, with Sammarco and Caruso--or Robinson Caruso, as _Punch_ liked to call him--as the chief male singers, but no new operas were produced. _André Chénier_ in 1907 is described as of the _Tosca_ or lurid type. A new hand is observable in the notice which acknowledges an unexpected dignity and refinement in Caruso's always brilliant singing and pronounces Destinn "adorable." Wagner's star was still in the ascendant in 1908, and Richter's splendid conducting of the Tetralogy is commemorated in the cartoon of Hans the _Ring_-master; while the "record operatic duel" between Melba and Tetrazzini is similarly honoured a little later. Never before, unless I am much mistaken, had two cartoons with a musical motive appeared in the same year. In 1910 Strauss was the grand and conspicuous portent of the operatic world, for _Elektra_, was produced in the spring and _Salome_ in the winter. The former was hailed by _Punch_ as a supreme manifestation of the _Maladie de Siècle_. His verses are quoted not for their literary merit so much as because they are a fairly compendious record of the fashions and foibles of "England de luxe" at the time:-- [Sidenote: _"Elektra" and "Salome"_] O sons of the new generation Athirst for inordinate thrills; O daughters, whose love of sensation Is shown in your frocks and your frills-- Come, faithfully answer my queries If you would completely assuage The passionate craving that wearies Both sinner and sage. Has Ibsen no power to excite you? Can't Maeterlinck make you applaud? Do dancers no longer delight you, Who wriggle about _à la_ Maud? Are you tired of the profile of Ainley? The tender falsetto of Tree? Do you envy each bonnet insanely That harbours a bee? Is the Metchnikoff treatment a failure? Do you weep when you miss your short putts? Have you ceased with enjoyment to hail your Diurnal allowance of nuts? Are you bored by the leaders of Spender? Or cloyed by the pathos of Caine? Do you find that "The Follies" engender A feeling of _gêne_? Are you sick of Sicilian grimaces? Unattracted by Chantecler hats? Are you weary of Marathon races And careless in choosing your spats? Are you jaded with aeroplaning And sated with social reform? Apathetic alike when it's raining And when it is warm?