Punch, or the London Charivari
Volume 107, October 13, 1894
edited by Sir Francis Burnand

MAKING THE RUNNING WITH "THE DERBY WINNER."

Druriolanus has scored another success. And why not? Surely he deserves it, for, with the assistance of his two collaborators, Cecil Raleigh and Henry Hamilton, Sir Augustus Harris has trained a Derby winner that will carry all before him over the Drury Lane course until the place is required for the pantomime. And the training has been most judicious. The problem the three stable companions (for the piece is nothing if not horsey) set themselves was to produce a drama that would fill the Grand National Theatre both before and behind the curtain. This problem they have solved to the satisfaction of all parties.

"Three to One on."

The method adopted is simple enough. Take, for instance, the First Act. One of the authors no doubt suggested the interior of a country house. "Quite so," says Druriolanus, "a nobleman's country house. I will show you how to do it." And he does. "O Todgers's can do it when it likes!" Gorgeous hall with a billiard table thrown in at the back to give an idea of the luxury and magnitude. And then the company! Earls and Countesses and Lords and Ladies and a Duchess! Why, even the villain is a major in a crack cavalry regiment, and the low comedian a surgeon who has worn the Queen's uniform. Apparently to give the latter additional aristocratic gloss, the Duchess is made to be in love with him. And the plot? Why, of course. Let Miss Alma Stanley arrive direct from India to sow discord between my Lord the hero and my Lady the heroine. This she does, looking charming in her villainy, and wearing a striking costume. My Lord tells her "to begone" (a most unreasonable request, by the way, as she has arrived at the Hall in the middle of the night, with evidently any number of boxes), but she won't. Miss Alma Stanley prefers to faint in my Lord's arms, to the great indignation of my Lady. Tableau and curtain.

Next, please. The Downs, and a trial of the 'osses. Then we have a meet of horses, saddle and otherwise. The "otherwise" are harnessed to a pony-chaise that looks as if it had come from the Lowther Arcade. Miss Alma Stanley rides in on a steed of her own. My Lord, the hero, objects to the gracious presence of this fair equestrian, and gets a horse-whipping for his trouble. Then the trial comes off. The noble animals canter across the stage. The dramatis personæ describe their progress to one another as they make the running behind the scenes. All first-rate and life-like. Haven't we seen it ourselves in the early morn? Then they reappear (amidst immense enthusiasm) as cardboard profile in the distance, to make a final entry in the horseflesh from the O. P. wings. Capitally done, and a great success. Stalls, Circle, Pit, Boxes, and Gallery, all delighted. So are they with the military ball at York. Nearly everybody in uniform. Hussars, Gunners, Highlanders, Fusileers, and Yeomen. My Lord the hero appears as Colonel of his county Yeomanry. Quite right, he has left the service, and taken to the reserve. Then there is the cotillion, and my Lord finds himself, to his surprise, dancing with Miss Alma Stanley. He is again caught by my Lady, the heroine (the poor chap is always compromising himself at the wrong moment), and there is of course only one solution to this embarrassing situation, and that is,—curtain. No better ball scene been on the stage for years. Druriolanus has all the details at his fingertips, and the ball at his feet. Keep it rolling!

In the next Act we find that the Countess, in full ball costume, has eloped with the Villainous Major to a hotel. My Lady has allowed her companion to describe themselves as Mr. and Mrs. So-and-So in the porter's book. But thus far and no farther. When the Major politely begs the loan of her heart, the Countess bids him go, and treats him really with absolute rudeness. The Major, after a terrible struggle with my Lady, in which he gets the worst of it, is completely crushed, and probably inwardly laments the very considerable expense to which he must have been put by the elopement. At this crisis enter my Lord the hero. Row and tableau. After this, the audience feels that the correct prescription is to cut the dialogue and come to the "'osses." And to a great extent this prescription is adopted. There is a first-class scene of a sale at Tattersall's, and a very realistic view of the finish at the Derby. The throng cheer behind the curtain, and so does the throng in front of it. The task is complete: both sides of the green baize are crowded with excited people.

It is exceptionally good. Scenery, music, general stage management, and incidental music all excellent. Mrs. John Wood first-rate, as good as ever, and Miss Alma Stanley greatly distinguishes herself. So does Mr. Cartwright as the most matter-of-fact villain that "in this distressful country has ever yet been seen." When he murders, or ruins, or seriously inconveniences anyone, he observes sotto voce to himself, in a tone that would be equally appropriate were he thanking an omnibus conductor for giving him change for sixpence, "I thought I should do it." Then Mr. Arthur Bourchier and Miss Beatrice Lamb as My Lord and My Lady could not be better. And Miss Pattie Browne, Miss L. Moodie, and Miss Hettie Dene, all the right people in the right places, as are both Mr. George Giddens and Mr. Lionel Rignold. To sum up, The Derby Winner has won, and Sir Druriolanus has more than satisfied his enthusiastic backers the public, and he and they will have a real good run for their money.

"Sold!"

IF NOT, WHY NOT?

["Sarah Grand has contributed an article on 'Should irascible Old Gentlemen be taught to Knit?' to the forthcoming issue of 'Phil May's Winter Annual.'"—Evening paper, October 2.]

This will shortly be followed by a series of papers on the following subjects:—"Shall hysterical Old Ladies be encouraged to smoke?"

"Should elderly, short-tempered Dowagers be permitted to use bad language?"

"Shall Octogenarian Barmaids be obliged to flirt?"

"May decayed Duchesses play pitch-and-toss?"

"Shall Professional Beauties of a certain age be compulsorily retired?"

"Are Burlesque Actresses of over forty years' standing to attend Sunday-school?"

"May Ballet-girls teach their grand-children to knit?"

"Should cross-eyed Viscountesses catch flies?"

"Ought Old Girls generally to make use of slang?"

"Should Prima donnas in their dotage wear blue pinafores?"

"Can the 'Shirt-front Brigade' be taught 'good form'?"

"May Lady Novelists dispense with the historic present?"

"Should much-married Adventuresses read The Family Herald?

"May timid Gentlewomen join the Pioneer Club?"

And "Is not the New