Life — December 18, 1913 — page 11: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

TE IERYE;* Letters of a Japanese School-boy Grand Opera in English To Editor “ Life News” who can be considerable comical without music, EAREST SIR :— Cousin Nogi report to me recently with Oscar Ham- merstein eyebrows. “ Togo,” he say so, “ cannot grand opera be equally grand when pronounced in English?” “ Frequent theaters is now doing so with help of talented soprano,” I say it. “So glad to hear!” cuntuse my cousin. “Nextly they will be singing Salome in Japanese, which will be nice education for Japan who wish to be educated so quickly possible, yet like to know what they are talking about while doing so. Now they can’t do, thank you. Of re- cently famous sing-song play ‘Carmen’ were introduced in Yeddo. Considerable confusion enjoyed. When Hon. Bullfighter emerge forth from slaugh- terhouse yalling ‘Tor-ee-a-do-da!’ in elevator voice, all Japanese thinkers present imagine it was New York scenery describing Tammany Hall after election while Hon. Jno. P. Mitchel were congratulating himself on cruelty to tigers.” “While grand opera is in English all persons can understand merely by ear,” I nudge gladly. “Will not German language lose its health if translated?” require Cousin Nogi. “ Perhapsly,” I collapse. “ American language have no beautiful words like ‘lustspiel’ and ‘Sauerbraten.’ Yet maybe they could use some baseball language so all could seem natural. “At any rates,” say Nogi, “it must be entirely enjoyous sensation to set in opera and know what they are talking.” “Let us go and try one,” I snuggest with happy hat. So we sonter forthly until we ob- serve theater what say “Grand Opera —English Spoken Here.” We en- croach to door where bull-board pro- nounce, “Opera Longrin by Hans Wagner, Famus Cyclist.” Annexed to door-entrance stood one stylish bell-boy who hold slight pro- gram in his thumbs. “All words to opera 25c!" he pro- nounce distinctually. “Feh-wal Feh-wa! Ma fayvu swa” “Why must we spent this %4$ for words, please?” I ask to know. “So understand what stage-singers say,” report boy con- taining buttons. “Do they not say it in English?” I negotiate peevly. “Not sure,” say Hon. Boy. “I have only been here a week.” We step inwards and observe opera going ahead amid considerable crashes. I heard “Ouch!” while I set down, but was not sure whether it was orchestra or merely lady 1 stepped on. Hon. Stage was filled with scenery, people & tragedy. I could not tell what that picture represent, but it were easy to see who was there. King Leopold of Belgium in antique bathrobe were surrounded by German Samurai on bright banks of Erie Canal where they go for fresh air while being cruel in music. Hon. King grumble some dish- agreeable barytones to goldly-hair daughter who step forthly in rich nightgown & holla, “O wat di spa!” I turn to eye-glass gentleman next by me who were reading Book of Opera with piano-tuner expression. “What she mean when she say, ‘O wat di spa!” I requesh. “She say, ‘O what despair!” he pronounce distinctually. “What language was that, please?" This from me. glish,” he whisper peevly. “Tam glad to make its acquaint- ance,” I argue slightly. Pretty soonly, after considerable choir-noise, Hon. Orchestra get into dispute with brass horners. And look, see! Down wet transportation of Erie Canal come flotting one enorma- lously swollen duck and on him stands riding one hansum circus man in tin clothes, Excitements. Hon. Tin Gentleman get off from that trained white chicken and throw hitching- rope around his stretched neck. Hon. Poultry bobb chin with peck-peck ex- pression and steam away with prompt- ness peculiar to commutation. Hon. Tin Hero wave muscles of fingers. “Feh-wa!l Feh-wa! Ma fayvu swa!" h> warrbule with sweet lung. I turn to Hon, Eye-Glass next by me who still read Opera Book. comicbooks.com