Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 1, September 5, 1841Various
General
Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 1, September 5, 1841
Various
English wit and humor -- Periodicals
but in his progress thither he evidently loses his way; for he ends the
play by inquiring--
"WHERE IS THE WORLD?"
The sublimity of which query is manifestly insisted on by the author, by
his having it printed in capitals.
When the curtain fell, there arose an uproarious shout for the author; but
instead of "the mantle of the Elizabethan poets," which, it has been said,
he commonly wears, the most attractive garment that met the view was an
expansive white waistcoat. This latter exhibition concluded the
entertainments, strictly so called; for though a farce followed, it turned
out a terrible bore.
* * * * *
CONCERTS D'ETE.
If the advance of musical science is to be effected by indecent _tableaux
vivans_--by rattling peas against sieves, and putting out the lights
(appropriately enough) when Beethoven is being murdered--by the most
contemptible class of compositions that ever was put upon score-paper, and
noised forth from an ill-disciplined band--if these be the means towards
improving musical taste, Monsieur Jullien is undoubtedly the harmonic
regenerator of this country. He is a great man--great in his own
estimation--great to the ends of his moustachios and the tips of his
gloves--a great composer, and a great charlatan--_ex. gr._:--
The overture to the promenade concerts usually consists of a pantomime
entirely new to an English audience. Monsieur Jullien having made his
appearance in the orchestra, seats himself in a conspicuous situation, to
indulge the ladies with the most favourable view of his elegant person,
and the splendid gold-chainery which is spread all over his magnificent
waistcoat. A servant in livery then appears, and presents him with a pair
of white kid gloves. The illustrious conductor, having taken some time to
thrust them upon a very large and red hand, leisurely takes up his baton,
rises, grins upon the expectant musicians, lifts his arm, and--the first
chord is struck!
Quadrilles are the staple of the evening--those composed by Monsieur
Jullien always, of course, claiming precedence and preference. These are
usually interspersed with solos on the flageolet, to contrast with
_obligati_ for the ophecleido; the drummers--side, long, and double--are
seldom inactive; the trombones and trumpets have no sinecure, and there is
always a great mortality amongst the fiddle-strings. Eight bars of
impossible variation is sure to be succeeded by sixteen of the deafening
fanfare of trumpets, combined with smashing cymbalism, and dreadful
drumming.
The public have a taste for headaches, and Jullien has imported a capital
recipe for creating them; they applaud--he bows; and musical taste
goes--in compliment to the ex-waiter's genuine profession of man-cook--to
_pot_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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