• • + • »••»••*»•*»»» »••»•*••••••«••••••«•*•»••»
EMENTScoTT
AS/T-
f , * • 9 • •» » • 9 • • » » » « 9 » * 9 9 9 9 9 • » 9 » 4t »
* * * * * * *
THE THEATRE.
Jl Jftanthltj llcbicto
OF
THE DRAMA, MUSIC, AND THE FINE ARTS.
EDITED BY
CLEMENT SCOTT,
NEW SERIES.
VOL. XIII. JANUARY TO JUNE, 1889.
STRAND PUBLISHING COMPANY, 172, STRAND, W.C.
1889.
[All Rights Reserved.]
LIST OF PHOTOGRAPHS.
MR. HENRY IRVING.
MR. SIMS REEVES.
MR. CHARLES COLLETTE.
MR. CHARLES BROOKFIELD.
MR. E. D. WARD.
MR. II. SAVILE CLARKE.
MR. JACK ROBERTSON.
MISS WALLIS.
MISS JESSIE BOND.
MISS GERTRUDE KINGSTON.
MISS OLGA NETHERSOLE.
MISS ELLALINE TERRIS.
MISS LOTTIE VENNE.
3-00
Sev. Lf-
v.13
61K548
u.e «s«
INDEX
AniiOTT, Miss Constance ...
Abingdon, W. L
Achurch, Miss Janet ...
A Critic on the Criticised ...
Adams W Davenport .
PACK
... 272
... 170
... 286
... 297
2OQ
Bessie, Miss Mary ...
Beveridge, J. D.
Bishop, Alfred
Blakeley William ...
"Bob"
PAGE
341
97, 285
214, 268
no
99
Adelphi Theatre
Alhu, Miss Annie
"Alderman," The
Alexander, George
Alhambra, The
Alias 70,
" Alice in Wonderland "
Allan, Charles
Andrews, A. J.
Angel Unawares, An
" Angelina " .
97, 285
... 276
... 59
ioo, 337
70, 287
279, 287
71
65, 326
266, 336
... 310
32Q
Bond, Miss Jessie
"Bookmaker," The ...
Borowski, Miss Louise
Bouverie, Miss Nellie
Bowman, Miss Isa
Brandon, Miss Margaret
Brandon, Miss Olga ...
" Brantinghame Hall "
Bright, Miss Florence
" Brittany Folk "
Brodie, Matthew
124
214
342
284
... 220
95, 342
218
62
329
236
214, 273
"Antigone" . . ...
III
Brookfield, Charles E.
65, 174, 326
" Apollo, M.D."
" April Showers "
Archer, Mr
Atherley Frank
Aubrey, G.
... IOO
... 161
•-• 337
... 270
215
Brough, Lionel
Brough, Miss Alice ..
Brough, Sydney ... 159
Broughton, E.
Broughton, F. W.
34i
274
, 293, 331, 341
220
124, 144, 283
Augarde, Miss Amy
Avenue Theatre ... 159,
Ay ling, Effie M
Aylmer, Mr.
96, 276
223, 277
- 325
277
Broughton, Miss Phyllis
Brutone, Miss Julia . . .
Buchanan, Robert ...
Buckle, H. Osborne
107
99, 269
109
223
Ayrtoun, Miss
126
Buist, M.
2 2O
41 BABES IN THE WOOD "...
" Bachelor's Quarters "
"Balloon," The • ...
Banister, Miss Ella
Barrett, George
Barrett, Oscar
Barrett, Wilson 26, 155, 157, 215,
Barrington, Rutland ... 62, 163,
Basing, S. Herberte
Beauchamp, John 161, 269,
... 114
173, 290
... 162
... 329
167, 215
... 118
267, 328
266, 338
... 340
270. 3^8
Buist, Scott
Burnand, F. C.
Burton, Miss Mary ...
CAFFREY, Stephen ...
Caine, Hail
Cajoling a Critic
Caldicott, Alfred C. ...
Caldwell, Miss
Calmour, Alfred C. ...
" Calumny " .
109
17, 163
220, 272
64
167, 329
::: 3S
::: ::: 1\
277
Beaufort Club
Beaumont, Allen
Bedford, Henry
" Begum's Diamonds," The
Bell, Malcolm
"Bells," The
Belmore, Miss Alice...
Bernard -Beere, Mrs. .
- 239
... 220
... 270
... 159
- 335
••. 337
... 167
no
Calvert, Leonard
Cameron, Miss Beatrice
Campbell, Smith & Co.
Canninge, Mrs.
Capel, George
Carew, Miss Elsie
Carleton, Royce
Carne, J.
220
220
97
329
235, 277
99
••• 59, 97, 338
Q7
Berringer, Mrs. Oscar
Bessie, Miss Elizabeth
... 125
... 341
Carson, Mrs. C. L. ...
Carson, S. M.
... ... 228
167,21=;
IV
INDEX.
PAGE
PAGE
Carter, Mr.
... IOO
" Dick Turpin the Second "
... 340
Cartwright, Charles
... 97
Dodsworth, Charles ..
62, 331
Caryll, Ivan
... 96
Doone, Neville
... 228
Cathcart, R
331
Doree, Miss Ada
-•• 335
27O
"Doris"
276
Cecil Arthur
. . . ^y vj
163
"Dorothy"
96
Cellie'r, Alfred '...
96, 276
D'Orsay, Laurance
... 274
Chandos, Mrs. Whittier
... 220
Douglas, E. A
97, 223
Chapman, Miss Patty
... 218
Douglas, Miss
... 107
Chapuy, Miss Effie ...
... 276
Druce, II
... 220-
Charrington, Charles
... 286
Drummond, Miss Dolores ...
109, 274
Chevalier, Albert
... 161
Du Barri, L
... 220
China Fairy, The
... 40
" Duchess of Bayswater and Co."
- 6S
Chivot and Duru
... 107
"Duke's Boast, "The
... 223
"Cinderella"
... 118
Dunne, John W
... 99
Clarke, Clara Savile
••• 193
Durant, Miss Heloise
... 234
Clarke, H. Savile 71,
1 1 6, 290
" During the Dance "
... 228
Clarke, Perceval
269, 326
Du Val, Charles
... 234
"Claudian"
... 328
Cliffe, Cooper ... 156, 157,
"Clouds with Silver Linings"
167, 215
• •• 340
EARLE, Miss Margaret
... 286
Coffin, C. Hayden
96, 276
East, James
... 97
Cole, Miss Edith
59
Eastlake, Miss ... 155, 157,
167, 329
Coleman, John
286, 339
Eaton, Charles
... 97
Coleman, Miss Fanny
... 218
" Electric Spark," The
... 340
Coleridge, Miss
••• 337
Ellice, Miss Blanche
... 218
Collette, Charles
121, 157
Elliott, W. A. ... 167,
215, 329
Collette, Miss Mary
•-• 157
Ellissen, Miss Isabel
... 274
Collini, A
277
El wood, Mr.
273
Collinson Herbert Lcc 112
*• 1 1
Emery E
no
Comedy Theatre 163. 266, 294,
336,' 338
Emery, Miss Winifred
... 109
Compton, Percy
... 276
English as She is Spoke
... 93
Conway, H. B
61, 157
Epitaux, Fred
... 223
Cooke, Miss A.
... 167
Erlynne, Roydon
... 167
Cook, T. Furneaux
96, 276
Erskine, Miss Robertha 214,
269, 273
Cooper, Frank
... 340
Erskine, Wallace
... 99
Cooper, II
... 97
Esmond Miss Georgie
... 97
Cooper, W.
Esmond, Henry V. ...
...* 270
Coote, Miss Carrie
... 277
Everard, Walter
... 161
Court Theatre
116, 218
Evelyn, Miss Rose
... 272
Courtneidge, Robert
... 64
Coutts, Compton
59, 61
Coveney, Miss Harriet
96, 276
"FADDIMIR"
... 335-
Coveney, Mr
... 337
Fal staffs Unknown to Fame
... 257
Covent Garden
120
Famous Falstaffs
... 185
Cowell, Miss Lydia
... 340
Farnie, H. B.
... 107
Criterion Theatre 61
, 64, no
Farquhar, Gilbert
272, 329
Farren, Frank
... 273
Cross, Julian
... 215
Farren, William
61, 273
C. S 56, 188, 225,
297, 317
Farren, William, jun.
... 99
Cudmore, Miss 65,
268, 270
Feat her stone, Miss Vane 266,
336, 338
Cutler, Miss Kate
... 107
Fenn, G. Manville
162, 269
Fernandez, James
... 220
Few Words from the Unseen, A
... 200
DACRE, Arthur
... 272
Findon, B. W
-. 59
Dairolles, Miss Adrienne 97, 271
, 338, 339
"First Mate"
... 104
Dallas, Mervyn
... 220
"Fleeting Clouds"
... 179
Dalziel, George
' ' Dandy Dick Turpin "
... 214
.. 340
"Fool's Paradise," A
Forbes, Norman
... 157
02, 22O
Darnley, I. II
... 162
" Forget-me-Not "
... 329
Darwin, Philip
... 286
Francis, A. B
... 218
Davies, Ben
96, 276
Frankau, Joseph
... 22O
Dawson, Forbes
... 162
Franklyn, Cecil W
... 129
Dawson, Stewart
272, 326
Freeman, H. A
... 267
Deane, H.
218
Friend, William
qq
Denison, A. M.
218
Frith Walter
236
Denny, W. II.
'.'.'. 64
" Deputy- Registrar, "The ...
. . . 264
GAIETY THEATRE ... 104
> 157, 340
INDEX.
PAGE
I'AC.F
Ganick Theutiv
291, 331
Howard, Cecil, 65, 96, 159, 224,
230,
Garthorne, C. W
266, 274
279, 337
Giddens, George ... ...6l,
no, 162
Hudson, Charles
... 167
Gilbcrl, W. S
... 62
Hughes, Miss Annie
64, 218
Gilinore Arthur
220
Hurst, J. P
21
Gillmore, Frank .. 109,
Huy, John
Glance Round the Galleries, A
112,
151. 279
Globe Theatre
1 1 8, 220
ILLINGTON, Miss Marie
... 104
Goethe as a Theatre Manager
n
" Inheritance," The
33^
Goldberg, F. W
... 340
"Irene"
.. 170
Goldney, Miss Gabrielle
59, ib2
Irish, Miss Annie
... I24
Good Librettist, The
... 241
Irving, Henry ... n, 69,
ioo, 337,
" Good Old Times"
... 167
Ivor, Miss
... IOO
Gould, Nutcombe ... 62,
270, 329
Grand Theatre ... 66, 122,
267, 340
Grahame, Miss Cissy...
... 283
" JACK-IN-THE-BOX"
... 284
Grahame, J. G.
268, 270
James, Albert
... 107
Grattan, H
277
Jecks, Miss Clara"
97
Graves, Clo
141, 259
Jennings, Miss Flo ...
... 99
Grey, Rowland
310
Jodrell Theatre
59, 60, 99
Grossmith, Weedon
... 326
Johnson, Mr
-• 337
Grove, F
109, 329
Johnstone, Miss Eva
... 99
Grundy, Sydney
157, 266
•'John Smith"
... 180
Guards' Burlesque
... 1 80
Jones, Miss Maria
... 104
Gurney, Edmund
... 269
"Julius Caesar" at Oxford ...
... 209,
Just a Few Observations
... 17
HALFORD, Miss Annie
... 277
Hamilton, Eric
... 204
KEIGHLEY, F.
59*
"Hamlet"
••• 155
Kemble, Mr
... 326
Hanbury, Miss Lillie
... 329
Kendal, Mr. and Mrs.
... 218
" Harbour Lights "
... 285
Kennedy, J. W
... 266
Hare, John
293, 33i
Kenney, Miss Rose
... 119
Hargreaves, W. ... 214, 269,
274, 326
Kerr, F.
268
Harrison, Frederick ...
**i t> O
... 65
" King Richard III."
220
Harvey, Mr
... 337
King, Sebastian
96
Harwood, Robb
65, 326
Kinghorne, Mark
59, 274
Haslem, E. H.
... 104
Kinharvie, Miss
... 268
Hatton, Miss Bessie ...
... 220
Kingston, Miss Gertrude 61
, 125, 157
Havard, Philip
••• 340
Kinnaird, Miss Helen
.. 267
Haviland, Mr.
••• 337
Kirwaa's, Mr., Recitals
... 172
Hawkins, Frederick
Kitty Southwell's Conspiracy
... 50
Hawthorne, Miss Grace
... 215
Klein, Hermann
... 250
Hawtrey Charles H
294, 33^
Knight, F. Hamilton 159, 220
, 293, 331
Hawtrey, W. F. ... 159,
266, 336
Knight, Master Arthur
... 163
Haymarket Theatre
... 65
Knowles, Miss Gladys
... 107
Heathcote, M. A
... 65
Helmore, George
... 214
Hemsley, W. B
... 276
LABLACHE, Luigi
220, 269
Henderson, Miss Lizzie
••• 59
" Lady of Lyons "
157, 267
Henrik Ibsen's Dramatic Exr.
>eri-
Lamb, Miss Beatrice
293, 33i
ment
74
Larkin, Miss Sophie
266, 340
Herbert, William
... 62
Latent Power, A
... 25
Heriot, Wilton
162, 269
Latimer, Katherine M.
... 249
" Her Ladyship"
... 269
" Launcelot the Lovely " ...
... 277
"Her Own Rival"
... 283
Law, Arthur
... 1 80
" Heritage de M. Plumet" ...
••• 59
Lawrence, Boyle
... 283
Hermits' Dramatic Club
... 234
Lea, Miss Marion
109, 223
Hervey, Charles
... 307
Leclercq, Miss Carlotta
... 220
I lichens, Robert S •
82, 261
Leclercq, Pierre
... 169
I licks, Seymour
••• 339
Leclercq, Miss Rose
65, 326
Hodges, H
167, 215
Le Hay, John
96, 276
Homfreys, Miss Gladys
72O
Leith Mr
326
Hope, Miss Ethel
... 159
Lemore, Clara
7
Homer, Fred
173, 290
"Lena"
... 285
Howe. Mr.
ioo, 337
Leslie, Miss Enid
... 66
Howard, Bronson ... • ...
... 268
Lethcourt, H. J.
... 70-
VI
INDEX.
PAGE
PAGE
Levenston, M.
... 97
Myers, Miss Adele
... 342
Levine, Miss Lillie
... 107
" Mystery of Manciple's Inn,
" The 195
Lewis, Eric
159, 218
Leyshon, Miss Eleanore
214, 274
Le Gallienne, Richard
... 39
NATHAN 62,
109, 159, 161
Le Thiere, Miss R. G.
... 59
Navette, Miss Nellie
... 66
Linden, Miss Laura
Linden, Miss Marie ...
61, 337
214, 268
Neilson, Miss Julia
Nethersole, Miss Olga 67,
... 62
231, 293, 331
Linfield, Miss Lily
-. 335
Neville, Miss Florence
.. 96
" Little Goody Two-Shoes "
... 116
Neville, Oscar
-. 335
•" Love and Honour "
... 70
New Company, A ...
. . . 207
"Love Story," The
... 169
New Dramatic School, The.
... 317
" Love that Kills "
... 66
New Plays and Important Revivals
Lowe, Robert W. ...
... 175
7i, 126, 181,
239, 294, 343
Lucie, Miss C.
... 218
Newton, Phillip, Mrs.
. .- 333
Lugg, W.
64
Nicholls, Harry
Noble, Miss Gracie ...
• .- 336
... 70
Lumley, Ralph
... 64
Lutz, Herr Meyer
... 226
Norreys, Miss
.62, 215, 326
Lyceum Theatie
... 100
Norton, Edgar
... 220
Lyric Theatro
96, 276
Norwood, Eille
... 272
"Nowadays"...
... 215
Nye,T. F
167, 269
" MACBETH " ..
IOO
" Oh ! These Widows "
340
Macbeth on the Stage, Part 2
I
Macklin, F. H
... 326
"Mile, de Belle Isle"
... 223
OPERA COMIQUE
125, 270, 329
Maltby, Alfred
Mansfield, Richard
64, 163
Il8, 220
Orford, Miss E. ....
Organised Opposition, An .
220
144
Marcel, Arthur
... 274
" Our Army and Navy "
287
Mario, Miss Dot
... 122
" Our Family Motto "
235
Marius, M
260, 336
Our Omnibus Box 66,113,
170, 226, 281
Marriott, Miss
... IOO
Our Play Box 59, 96, 155,
209, 266, 326
Marsden, Fred
97
Marsh, Alec
... 277
Marshall, Percy F
... 179
POETRY : —
Mason, R.
... 107
Ballade of a Poet
39
Matthews, Miss E
... 218
Broken Sonnet, A
259
Matthews, Sant
... 214
Broken Vow, The
... 261
Matthews, Tom
•-- 233
Christmas Hymn
56
Maude, Cyril ... ... ...61,
IOQ 32Q
Daffodil
225
Maurice, Edmund
iuy> j^y
... 326
Dog's Tale, A ...
188
Maxwell, Gerald
... 340
Down the Track to Tra
-b6 ... 7
McNeill. Miss Amy
99, 269
Encore
247
McNulty, Miss Jenny
... 104
Father Damien ...
325
Mead, Tom .
172
Love Lesson, The
82
Melford, Austin ... 167
215, 329
"Menu" of Mile. Rachel, The 307
Mellcr, Miss Rose
286, 340
Persian Legend, A
193
Mellon, Miss May Woolgar...
••• 339
Told to the Doctor
15
Menken, Ada Isaacs
... 282
Told to the Tribe
141
Mensiaux, Marie de, 85, 155, 215
, 266, 330
Una Preghiera ...
95
"Menu "of Mile. Rachel, The
... 307
Willy Bland
149
" Merchant of Venice"
286, 337
Womanly Help ...
204
" Merry Margate "
... 266
Paget, F. M
340
" Merry Wives of Windsor "
... 124
"Panel Picture," The
270
Mervin, Fred
99
Parke, Walter
195
Miles, Miss Jennie
... 107
'Pateman, Robert
167
Miller, Miss Emily
... 162
Paull, H. M
294, 336
Millet, Miss Maud
... 161
Paul, Howard
50
Millward, Miss Lilian
59, 60
"Paul Jones"
107
Millward, Miss
97
Pauncefort, Mrs.
337
Monckton, Lady
... 270
Penley, W. S.
266
Monkhouse, Harry ..
... 107
Pennington, W. H. ...
59, 60
Moreland, Miss
... 268
Pentland, Nicol
62
Moore, Miss Mary
i jo
Percyval T W
167
Mortimer, James
59, 340
Perry, Miss Beatrice ...
.. 335
Murray, Mrs. Gaston
62, 331
Perry, Miss Florence
96» 335
Musical Notes
... 250
Pettitt, Henry
15, 97
" My Queenie "
... 274
Phelps, Mrs. Edmund
60, 161
INDEX.
vii
PAGE
1'AGE
Philippi, Miss Retina
... 116
'Silent Witness," The
••• 339
Phillips, Miss Kate ...
... -341
' Silver Falls," The
97
Phillips, G. I!
... no
1 Silver King," The
... 267
Phillips, J. Ragland
... 235
Sims, Albert
64, 220
Philpotts, Eden
... 227
Sims, G. R
40, 97
Philo-Thespian Club..^ ...
233, 281
Site, J. Grahame
6l, 220
Phipps, C. J
"Pickwick"
... 96
... 163
Smith, II. Reeves
Solomon, Edward
214, 268
... 163
Pigott, J. W
... 214
" Some Day "
••• 339
Pinero, A. W. 2 1 8,
293, 331
Sparling, Herbert
... 272
Pitston, F
" Platonic Attachment, A "
167, 215
... 227
Spider's Whistle, The
Stage in Russia, The
... 26
-• !75
Playgoer, The
... 190
Standing, Herbert
... 110
" Poet," The
... 124
Stephens, Yorke
... 159
" Policeman," The
... 235
Stephenson, B. C.
96, 276
Polini, Miss Harrietta
... 215
" Still Waters Run Deep "...
... no
Polyhymnia in Comic Opera
... 129
Stone, George
... 104
Preston, G
... 107
Strand Theatre
... 269
Prince of Wales's Theatre 107,
173, 1 80
Princess's Theatre
I55» 157, 167, 215,
" Profligate," The ... 293,
267, 328
322, 33*
TAPLEY, Joseph
"Tares"
... 277
... 125
Taylor, Tom
... 110
Tempest, Miss Marie
... 96
RAIEMOND, George
Raines, Miss Maud
162, 269
... 336
Temple, George
"Tenterhooks"
... 335
294, 336
Raleigh, Cecil
... 338
Terriss, William
97
Ramsey, Cecil
... 223
Terriss, Miss Ellaline 162,
269, 290
Randall Roberts, Sir
... IOO
Terry, Edward
... 214
Reed, Arthur
... 335
Terry, Miss Ellen
100, 337
Reeves, Herbert Sims
••• 335
Terry, Fred
223, 273
Ricnard Henry
104, 277
Terry, Miss Marion
272, 283
Richardson, Miss Ethel
Righton, Edward
... 99
... 218
Terry's Theatre 161, 162, 214,
" That Doctor Cupid "
268, 348.
... 109,
Rimbault, C
... 273
Thomas, W. Freeman
... 126
Roberts, Arthur
... 277
Thorn, Geoffrey
122, 34a
Robertson, Miss Fanny ...61
, 109, 274
Thorne, Eric
Robertson, Forbes
293, 331
Thorne, Fred 61,
109, 329
Robins, Miss
... 329
Thorne, Thomas
109, 329,
Robson, E. M.
- 59
Toole, J. L
294
Roche, Miss Lucy
... 270
Tree, Beerbohm, Mr. and Mis.
124, 326
Rodney, Frank
- 338
Trent, Gilbert
62
Romer and Bellamy
Rorke, Miss Kate 61, 125, 157
... 161
, 293, 331
Tresahar, John ... 60,
Tristram, Outram
223, 338
270-
Rorke, Miss Mary
... 220
"Troubles"
59
Rosa, Miss Patti
99, loo
Turner, Godfrey
93, 259
Roselle, Miss Amy
... 267
Turner, Leopold
... 247
R. T. G
... 246
Turner, Miss Sallie
... 277
" Rumour"
... 272
Tyars, Mr
Russell, Howard
... 97
SAKER, Miss Rose
Sandringham T. R. ...
... 162
... 337
" UN HKROS DE LA VENDEE "
" Une Mission Delicate " ...
... 235
... 329
Saunders, R
... 157
Saxe Templer
Saxon, E. F. ...
... 107
... 329
VALROY, Miss Irene
... 99
St. George's Hall
59, 339
Vanbrugh, Miss Violet ...64
159, 218
St. James's Theatre ...
Scott, Clement 56, 188 22
62, 340
5, 297, 317
Vane, Miss
Vanoni, Mdlle.
... 223
... 277
Seaman, Miss
... 100
Vaudeville Theatre 109, 272, 274
» 329, 335
Sedger, Horace
"See-Saw" ... »
.. 64
• • 235
Vaughan, Miss Kate..
Vaugfian, Miss Susie ... 274
... 70
, 336, 338
Shaftesbury Theatre
... 273
Venne, Miss Lottie ... 163, 266
, 336, 34i
Sharp, R. Farquharson
Shine, J. L
... 74
... 97
Vernon, W. H
Vezin, Hermann
2!8' 286
Shine, Wilfred E
QVi»r>fi T? P
... 335
DA
Viron, Miss Evelyn
Vivian. F.
•• 339
220
Vlll
INDEX.
WADMAN, Miss
talker, C
Waller, Lewis
62, 159, 161, 167, 215,
Wallis, Miss (Mrs. Lancaster)
Ward, Miss Emily
•Ward, E. D. ...
Ward, Miss Genevieve
Warren, F. G
"Watson, Malcolm
Watt- Tanner, Miss
Watson, Ivan...
" Weaker Sex," The
"Wealth"
Welch,]. A . ...
" Well Matched "
Webster, Miss
\Venman, T. M. ... icx»,
PAGE
107
104
293, 331
68, 273
••- 157
231, 277
... 329
-. 336
207, 273
••• 235
... 223
... 218
317, 326
167, 215
... 340
167, 215
157, 337
I'AGE
West, Miss Florence 159
Wheatman, J. ... ... ... 109
Whitaker, S 162, 269
White, Miss Annie 59
"White Lie," A 60
Whitty, Miss May .. 223
k- Widow Winsome," The 61
Williams, Arthur 96, 276
Williamson, H. W 274
Wilmot, Charles 67
Wilmot, Miss Florence 107
Winter, John Strange 272
Wyatt, Frank... .. ... ... 107
Wilson, Joseph ... ... ... 335
Wyndham, Charles no
YOUNG M.RS. WiNTHRor " 268
THE THEATRE.
Macbeth on the Sta^e.
IN TWO PARTS.— PART II.
BY FREDERICK HAWKINS.
VEN under the rule of Garrick, it is clear, "Macbeth"
occupied less space in public thought than in what
may be called the Kemble period. Mrs. Siddons
must be credited with this remarkable feat, for
while her eldest brother did not find a very con-
genial element in the character of the Scottish
chieftain — which, despite Macklin's innovation, he dressed
in latter-day English fashion — her Lady Macbeth rose to the
highest attainable standard of histrionic power. "It seemed,"
writes Hazlitt, " as though a being of superior order had dropped
from another sphere to awe the world by the majesty of her
appearance." Professor Bell, who made minute notes of her
acting, is equally enthusiastic. " There is not," he says, " a
great deal in this play, but the wonderful genius of Mrs. Siddons
makes it the whole. She makes it tell the whole story of the
ambitious project, the disappointment, the remorse, the sickness
and despair of guilty ambition, the attainment of whose object
is no cure for the wounds of the spirit. Macbeth, in Kemble's
hand, is a co-operating part. I can conceive Garrick to have
sunk Lady Macbeth as much as Mrs. Siddons does Macbeth, yet
when you see Mrs. Siddons play this part you scarcely can
believe that any acting could make her part subordinate. Her
turbulent and inhuman strength of spirit does all. She turns
Macbeth to her purpose, makes him her mere instrument, guides,
NEW SERIES.—VOL. XIII. B
2 THE THEATRE. [JAN- '> l889-
directs, and inspires the whole plot. Like Macbeth's evil genius,
she hurries him on in the mad career of ambition aud cruelty
from which his nature would have shrunk. The flagging of her
spirit, the melancholy and dismal blank beginning to steal upon
her, is one of the finest lessons of the drama. The moral is
complete in the despair of Macbeth, the fond regret of both for
that state of innocence from which their wild ambition has
hurried them to their undoing." Some of Professor Bell's
notes, which were printed ten or eleven years ago in "The
Nineteenth Century," with an introduction by Professor Jenkin,
are of considerable interest. He shows us that in the earlier
scenes she was majestic, slow, pitiless, inflexible. At
"We fail " there was a strong descending inflexion, the actress
bowing with her hands down and the palms upward. In the
murder scene, after Macbeth's entrance, even her spirit was
overcome by his terror: her arms were about her neck and
bosom ; she shuddered. His derangement restored her to
himself; and speaking forcibly in his ear, and looking at him
steadfastly, she gave the lines, " Why, worthy Thane," in a
tone of fine remonstrance, a tone calculated to work on his
mind. It was with contempt for his infirmity of purpose that
she seized the daggers, and, before stealing out, she uttered
the lines —
" If he do bleed,
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal,"
as a malignant sneer at his irresolution. In the second scene of
the third act there was nothing of the joy of gratified ambi-
tion in Lady Macbeth's tones ; all was characterised by great
dignity and solemnity of voice. After the terrors of the banquet
scene she appeared exhausted, as much in need of the season of
all nature, sleep, as Macbeth himself. This preparation for the
sleeping scene, as Professor Jenkin remarks, was a very fine
idea, and hardly seems to be suggested in the play. In the
sleep-walking scene her eyes were open, but their sense was
indeed shut. She advanced rapidly to the table, set down the
light, and moved her hand, making the action of lifting up
water at intervals ; and it was with a convulsive shudder, joined
to a tone of imbecility , that she left the stage.
Edmund Kean evinced no marked affection for "Macbeth," but
it may be doubted whether he did not render greater services to
JAN. i, 1889.] MACBETH ON THE STAGE. 3
the play than any of his predecessors. Besides scaling the
heights of tragedy in the more impassioned scenes, he earned
a title to fame by causing the weird sisters to be represented as
Shakspere drew them. " I'll have none of this rubbish," he
curtly said of the songs and dances and funny antics which had
held possession of the stage for nearly a hundred and fifty years.
Friends fancied that by taking this course he would give dire
offence to the pit and gallery, if not provoke a serious disturbance.
As it was, the importance of the change was speedily recognised,
and the comic witch vanished for ever from the sight of London
playgoers. Kemble had previously made an attempt at Bath
to dispense with the "rubbish," but the resentment excited by
its omission was so keen that he felt obliged to restore it. If,
according to his own avowal, Kean fell short of Kemble in the
third act, where a majestic demeanour counts for much, he
eclipsed the traditional glory of Garrick himself in the murder
scene. His acting at this point, indeed, may be said to have
thrilled all London. It was universally allowed to equal the best
parts of his Othello, Richard, Shylock, and Hamlet. "I sup-
pose," writes Mr Richard Trench, "that remorse was never
more finely expressed." "As a lesson of common humanity,"
Hazlitt says, " it was heartrending. The hesitation, the bewil-
dered look, the coming to himself when he sees his hands bloody,
the manner in which his voice clung to his throat and choked
his utterance, his agony and tears, the force of nature overcome
by passion— beggared description. It was a scene which no
one who saw it can ever efface from his recollection."
Neither of the artistic but not heaven-born tragedians who
immediately followed — Macready, Charles Kean, and Phelps —
can be said to have created an enduring impression in " Mac-
beth." The second, however, calls for notice here as the author
of a revival in which a near approach to historical accuracy was
made in the mise-en-scene generally. " The very uncertain infor-
mation which we possess respecting the dress worn by the
inhabitants of Scotland in the eleventh century," he wrote in
a "fly-leaf" distributed among the audience, "renders any attempt
to present this tragedy attired in the costume of the period a
task of very great difficulty. In the absence of any positive
information handed down to us on this point, I have borrowed
materials from those nations to which Scotland was continually
4 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
opposed in war. The continual invasion of the Norsemen, and
the invasion of Canute in 1031, who, combining in his own
person the sovereignty of England, Norway, and Denmark,
was the most powerful monarch of his time, may have taught,
at least the higher classes, the necessity of adopting the superior
weapons and defensive armour of their enemies. For these
reasons, I have introduced the tunic, mantle, cross-gartering,
and ringed byrne of the Danes and Anglo-Saxons, between
whom it does not appear that any very material difference
existed ; retaining", however, the peculiarity of the striped and
chequered garb, which seems to be generally admitted as belong-
ing to the Scotch long anterior to the history of this play ;
together with the eagle's feather in the helmet, which, according
to Gaelic tradition, was the distinguishing mark of a chieftain.
Party-coloured woollens or cloths appear to have been com-
monly worn amongst the Celtic tribes from a very early period.
. In the four centuries and a half which intervened between
the death of St. Colomba and the reign of Macbeth, it is reason-
able to presume that considerable improvements took place
among the Scotch, and that the fashion of their dress and
buildings was borrowed from their more civilised neighbours.
Under these considerations the architecture previous to the
Norman conquest has been adopted throughout the entire
play."
It was in the autumn of 1875 that Mr. Irving first stepped on
the stage as Macbeth. A double surprise awaited a majority
of the brilliant audience assembled to pass judgment upon the
essay. He had had the hardihood to discard Lock's music —
in many eyes an enormous offence — and the still greater hardi-
hood in his performance to reject one of the most venerated of
theatrical traditions. Macbeth, in his view, is not of a fine
and noble nature before the play opens ; the weird sisters
appear to him because the voice of a criminal ambition has
made itself heard in his breast ; moral cowardice rather than
any better motive prompts him to stay his hand, and under the
weight of the demoralisation arising from the sense of guilt he
becomes almost abject. Every great quality that may have
belonged to the warrior is crushed in the murderer, although
some flashes of physical courage are to be seen towards the
close. " All the poetry of the character is taken from it,"
JAN. i, 1889.] MACBE'tyl OM THE STAGE. 5
groaned one dramatic critic when the curtain fell. Oxenford
does not seem to have sliared this opinion. "There is no
doubt," he wrote, "that Mr. Irving's Macbeth differs widely
from the person-present to the minds of ordinary playgoers. The
popular Macbeth is not only a brave soldier, with all the
physical qualities proper to his vocation, but likewise an appa-
rently well-disposed man, who might have gone on safely to the
end of his days had he not unluckily met three old women on
a heath, who put wicked thoughts in his head, and had he not,
moreover, been cursed with an unscrupulous wife, who did her
best, or rather her worst, to mature those thoughts into action.
That he is irresolute, that he does not at once plunge into the
abyss of crime, is the more to his credit. But there is one
peculiarity in Macbeth's nature which is commonly overlooked,
and which seems to have been carefully noted by Mr. Irving.
The evil agencies by which he is influenced are universally
recognised ; not so the extreme facility with which he yields to
them. In his very first scene, when he has not been on the
stage two minutes, no sooner has he been successively greeted
by the witches as Glamis, Cawdor, and " King hereafter," than
his manner suggests to Banquo, to whom the witches cause no
terror whatever, the question :
" Good sir, why do you start and seem to fear
Things that do sound so fair?"
The information a few minutes afterwards that the first pre-
diction has been fulfilled leads immediately to a self-confession
of murderous devices, conveyed in a speech too familiar to need
citation. There is no nobility of nature about Macbeth; he is
totally impotent to resist the very earliest allurements of crime,
and is utterly without the fortitude to endure its consequences.
After she has read his letter, and before she has seen him, his
lady sums him up as one who would not play false, and yet
would wrongly win. There is not a common thief who would
not rather find a gold watch on the pavement than pick it from
a pocket, and who is not therefore entitled to analogous praise.
Lady Macbeth does not look upon her husband as superior in
virtue, but as her inferior in courage, and she is perfectly confi-
dent that when she exerts her influence she will have all her
own way ; and have her own way she does, as the weird sisters
6 THE THEATRE. . [JAN. i, 1889.
have already had theirs. The conjugal discussion relative to
the murder of Duncan leaves from the first no doubt on which
side victory will ultimately lie. It is this inability to resist all
inducements to crime, coupled with the depressing anguish that
follows its perpetration, which constitutes the peculiarity of
Mr. Irving's Macbeth ; and those who expect a conflict between
the good and bad elements in the composition of a brave man
will probably find his interpretation somewhat monotonous.
But Mr. Irving is precisely what his Macbeth is not ; he has a
will of his own, and when he has formed a conception he is
determined to carry it out. His Macbeth is from beginning to
end consistent. He is scared by the witches, he is scared by
the project of murder, he is scared by the progress of its
execution. When thoroughly convinced that resistance is
useless he can rush into the murder of Banquo, but when the
ghost appears he is scared as never man was scared before, and
he wraps his cloak over his face that he may not behold the
horrible spectre. He is only brave when there is clearly
nothing to be lost or won — namely, in the final combat ; that is
to say, he can ' die game/ Accept Mr. Irving's primary idea,
and you cannot hesitate to adopt his conclusion." Into the
arguments for and against this conclusion we are not about to
enter here. It may be right or it may be wrong; but even
those who disbelieve in it will hardly deny that it was acted
upon with an effect possible only to a master of his art.
The forthcoming performance at the Lyceum, for which the
most elaborate scenery and dresses are understood to have been
provided, will have a distinct source of interest in Miss Terry's
impersonation of Lady Macbeth. Speculation is already rife as
to how the only Beatrice and Ophelia of our time will treat this
formidable character. Will she try to emulate the majesty and
heartlessness and grim determination which the great actresses
of old imported into it ? Or will she be as a woman not in-
human at heart, animated less by self-seeking ambition than by
affection for her husband, and acquiring her ascendency over
his mind by the force of personal beauty besides intellect and
will ? For this view, it may be remembered, an eloquent plea is
advanced by Maginn in his sometimes paradoxical " Shakes-
pere Papers." Lady Macbeth, he contends, is not meant to be
an embodiment of the Furies. In spurring Macbeth to murder
JAN. i, 1889.] DOWN TffE TRACK TO TRA-BO. 7
she only followed his thought. " Love for him is, in fact, her
guiding passion. She sees^that he covets the throne, that his
happiness is wrapped up in the hope of becoming a king ; and
her part is accordingly taken without hesitation. With the
blindness of aifection she persuades herself that he is full of the
milk of human kindness, and that he would reject false and
unholy ways of attaining the object of his desires. She deems
it, therefore, her duty to spirit him to the task. Fate and meta-
physical aid, she argues, have destined him for the golden round
of Scotland. Shall she not lend her assistance ? She does not
ask the question twice. She will. Her sex, her woman's breasts,
her very nature, oppose the task she has prescribed to herself;
but she prays to the ministers of murder, to the spirits that tend
on mortal thoughts, to make thick her blood and stop up the
access and passage of remorse ; and she succeeds in mustering
the desperate courage that carries her through. Her language
is exaggerated in mere bravado.
1 A little water clears us of this deed.'
Does she indeed feel this r She shall answer us from her
sleep, in the loneliness of midnight, in the secrecy of her
chamber."
Down the Track to Tra-bo !
A LEGEND OF THE GRAND-TRUNK.
BY CLARA LEMORE.
the heart of the wood a small cottage is seen,
Not far from the railway-bridge spanning the stream ;
And here dwells the signalman — Jonathan Gray —
With Bessie, his daughter — she's thirteen to-day.
They've got but one neighbour, just two miles below,
At the next signal-box, down the track at Tra-bo.
For each other these two seem to live in that wild ;
The girl for her father, and he for his child.
8 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
Without Bessie at home, you can quite understand,
'Tis certain his time would hang heavy on hand ;
For his duties are few, and quite simple and plain,
Just to signal the bridge safe for each passing train.
'Tis winter. For many days past the soft snow
Has steadily fallen. Above and below
The world is one whiteness. The keen north-east gale
Shrieks around, with a sound like a sinner's last wail ;
And now and again, on the river's near shore,
You may hear a pine crash through the storm's awful roar.
" If the snow and the gale don't soon weary," says Gray,
" With the weight I'm afear'd the old bridge 'ull give way.
'Twas swaying to-day in a way bound to throw
Awful pressure and force on the tackle below ;
I feel a bit skeart at the thought of the train
A-goin' across while it's under this strain.
" The evening express must be seen to. I guess
I'd better get down to the signal-box, Bess.
Help me on with my coat, and reach down the white lamp ;
The big one, my lassie. 'Twill be a cold tramp.
You'd best look out from here to make sure all is right ;
In less than two minutes you'll see the white light."
She stands at the window and watches him go,
A big moving shadow across the white snow ;
Then she waits for the light for full five minutes' space,
While a growing anxiety darkens her face.
Then, sudden and shrill through the storm-laden air,
There is borne to her ears a dread cry of despair.
For a moment she waits, a great fear in her eyes,
As she listens again for those terrible cries.
" 'Tis father's voice ! Heaven be good to us now!
He is hurt ! I must get to him ! God show me how ! "
Ah ! how her heart faints as she hastes through the wood,
To the spot where this morning the signal-box stood.
JAN. i, 1889.] DOWN THE TRACK TO TRA-BO. g
Oh, grief and despair for a lone lassie's sight!
On the snow lies her father crushed, helpless and white !
Across both his legs lies a large fallen tree :
He's in anguisji untold ; yet he speaks brisk and free ;
" Bess, the bridge has broke down ! Now you listen to me !
There's no way, lass, of sending the news ; for you see
" The telegraph's gone with the rest of the gear,
And in less than an hour the mail will be here ;
And every creature aboard it must die
This night, Bess ! unless you've the courage to try
To get through the wood to the next box, Tra-bo,
All alone, through the snow ; 'tis two miles ; you will go r
" Brave lassie ! I knew it ! Don't lose any time !
Take the lamp ! Keep as close as you can to the line."
" But you ? " cries the girl, wildly wringing her hands ;
He points quietly upwards, and Bess understands.
" Don't linger, Bess. I'm in hands stronger than thine ;
Keep the track; don't look back: and pray God you're in
time."
She chokes back a sob as she picks up the lamp,
" God keep you ! " she prays ; and starts forth on her tramp
Down the track. Deep her feet sink each step in the snow ;
The wind freezes the tears on her cheeks as they flow ;
But yet never a pause by the way does she make ;
On her speed she knows well many lives are at stake.
Yet alas ! her best haste is but slow through the storm,
For the tempest makes sport of her slight fragile form ;
Oh, blindingly beat the white flakes in her eyes !
Oh, bitingly blows the keen wind as she cries :
" Shall I reach there in time ? " 'Tis her one constant moan,
Pressing on down the track to Tra-bo all alone.
The lantern is out ! With a cry of despair —
For she thinks God has surely forgotten her there —
She falls prone in the snow. Then the thought of the train
Drives her on ; through the darkness she struggles again ;
Torn and bleeding, her feet leave red marks on the snow,
Still she holds on her way down the track to Tra-bo.
10
THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
" Shall I never be there r " Ah, kind Heaven ! that sound !
That throb beating loud in the air all around !
'Tis the mail ! 'Tis the mail ! Thund'ring down on the line;
After all her wild efforts she won't be in time !
Black despair for a breath, then on ! on ! o'er the snow,
For ahead down the track gleam the lights of Tra-bo !
" Stop the mail ! Clifford's bridge is blown down ! " then she
stops,
For she staggers and falls at the door of the box
In a motionless heap ; while the signalmen fly
To their signals and stop the mail as it goes by.
And the passengers come crowding round when they know
To save them has brave Bess tramped alone to Tra-bo.
Her first word is to ask will they send to her Dad ?
He's crushed under a tree, she's afraid pretty bad,
By the track near the bridge. Soon a rescuing crew
Bring him down on the engine, and quickly the two
Are conveyed to the town, where the best of all care
Soon restores them to health.
To this day folks declare
'Twas a heroine's task, when, alone through the snow
And the tempest, Bess tramped down the track to Tra-bo.
Broom Hill, Orpington,
vSeptember, 1888.
JAN. i, 1889.] GOETHE AS A, THEATRE MANAGER, n
Goethe as a Theatre Manager.
*> \. tJL^Jr"
kOETHE at one time was director of a theatre, and his
experiences in this capacity at Weimar furnish some
very useful lessons even in the present day. For
Goethe endeavoured to give practical life to an ideal
which still haunts many earnest minds — the ideal
which places the functions of the stage entirely
beyond and above the taste of the public. That is impossible.
The popular desire for amusement Goethe regarded as degrading.
The ordinary passions of human nature he sought to elevate into
a rarefied region of transcendental emotion ; and the actors, who
naturally found some difficulty in soaring into this atmosphere,
he drilled by the simple process of making them recite with
their faces to the audience, without the least attempt to imper-
sonate any character. His theory, in a word, was that the stage
should be literary and not dramatic, and that it should hold the
mirror not up to nature, but to an assemblage of noble abstrac-
tions. It is needless to say that this ideal was predoomed to
failure, and my object now is, not to discuss it in any detail, but
to instance it as a useful warning to those whose discontent
with the variety of public taste is apt to urge them toward
impossible reforms. It is no sign of retrogression that there is
a great popular demand for a kind of entertainment which
would have excited Goethe's disgust, and which does not appeal
very strongly to your sensibilities or mine. Goethe threw up
the management of the Weimar theatre because the Duke was
curious to see a successful melodrama in which the chief incident
was created by a poodle. The poet thought that this was a
proof that the stage had gone to the dogs, and that it was
high time for him to disclaim all responsibility for such a
degradation. Whether this convinced Goethe that his instinct
was prophetic when he introduced Mephistopheles to Faust in
the form of a dog — some say a poodle — I cannot say ; but his
hasty conclusion that the drama had fallen to the level of " the
dog of Montargis " was no better founded than the assumption
you sometimes hear to-day, that the popularity of entertainments
12 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
which are not of the highest class is evidence of the incurable
frivolity or coarseness or ignorance of the vast mass of playgoers.
I always wonder why the argument is applied only to the stage.
You never hear any pulpit orator denounce the enormous sale
of fiction which appeals to the ineradicable taste for exciting
narrative. Such may say that a certain class of novel is
immoral, but he dpes not deplore the unconquerable folly or
depravity which buys sensational tales by tens of thousands,
while the works of writers who address a smaller public are
swamped on the bookstalls. Philosophy is always ready with
an explanation of this, but she is supposed to have no business
in the sphere of the footlights. Yet I. see no reason for con-
demning the stage because its functions do not conform uni-
versally to the highest standard. No rational being believes
that imaginative literature is hopelessly degenerate because the
best novels are not as widely read as their inferiors. There is
another consideration which is too often overlooked. Even
amongst educated people the standard of taste in theatrical mat-
ters is extremely variable. Some are interested in Shakespeare,
but only in his comedy; " Hamlet " bores them, but they are
delighted by " Much Ado About Nothing." Others care little
for what is called the legitimate drama, but prefer lighter forms
of entertainment which to playgoers of a serious cast are purely
frivolous. Others, again, have a strong partiality for a certain
kind of melodrama ; they like to be harrowed by tremendous
situations and amused by spectacular effects. Indeed, you may
take a man of cultivated mind and discover that his taste for the
theatre is extremely primitive. Even genius is sometimes
erratic in its appreciation of the stage. Goethe himself had
astonishing ideas about Shakespeare. If there were one thing
which Shakespeare understood better than another it was the
law of dramatic effect. Yet Goethe thought it necessary to
reconstruct " Romeo and Juliet," and in " Wilhelm Meister "
the players find it impossible to perform " Hamlet " without
making Horatio son of the King of Norway. When I refreshed
my memory of this episode it occurred to me that a manager
who should ever be accused of taking liberties with " Faust "
might console himself with the reflection that they were
rather overshadowed by the liberties which Goethe took with
Shakespeare.
JAN. i, 1889.] GOETHE AS A THEATRE MANAGER. 13
" It is not just, therefore, to assume either that the public
taste is degraded because it does not touch an ideal standard at
every point, or that one fixed canon of taste can be applied to
the drama, even in cultivated society. The theatre must always
be the playground of a variety of sympathies and the arena of
all manner of conflicting judgments. A theatrical manager has
to satisfy many tastes, and much may be forgiven him if he has,
like ' Faust,' the instinct of the one true way. And it should
be remembered that a manager, by sometimes charming the
public with the popular novelties of the day, may be able to
command their support when he seeks it for a higher form of
drama. Nature should be the manager's ideal, and art his
familiar, and while inspired by the one and aided by the other
of these, though his work may reflect the variable moods of his
generation, because it is primarily his business to amuse, the
sum of his efforts will be a substantial increase of the universal
stock of wholesome pleasure. For, consider that the theatre
gives a rare stimulus to every sort of mind. Its pictorial effects
alone make an artistic education, and afford a world of delight
to a multitude whose imagination finds little food in their daily
lives ; it arouses dormant sympathies, and makes war on idle
prejudices : it presents, with vivid force, the simplest elements
of life to all, and makes real to many some of the highest poetry.
It is nothing to the purpose that some phases of the stage,
which do not correspond exactly to this description, should be
pointed out. Broadly speaking, what I say is true, and is an
estimate of the functions of the theatre which is borne out by
the best experience. You will see therefore how important it is
that an institution which exercises such wide and varied
influence should have all its agencies developed to the highest
ability.
"What is necessary on the stage is a harmony of all its
features — a unison of all its refinement. It is not enough to
give an individual performance of consummate interest, for, in a
double sense, the whole is greater than the part. Let every-
thing have its due proportion ; let thoroughness and complete-
ness be the manager's aim ; let him never forget that a perfect
illusion is his highest achievement — an ideal which I know to
be the conscientious aim of many managers to-day. I do not
presume to maintain that any method of representation, how-
i4 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
ever admirable, can be fully adequate to the portrayal of Shake-
speare, nor do I concern myself very much with the familiar
reproach of overlaying our greatest dramatist with ornament.
I have before said that the value of the aids and adjuncts of
scenery and costume has ceased to be a matter of opinion ; these
have become necessary. They are dictated by the public taste
of the day, and not by the desire for mere scenic display. To
this, of course, there are limits ; mere pageant, apart from the
story, has no place, although there may be a succession of
truthful, harmonious, and beautiful pictures, which shall neither
hamper the natural action nor distract the judgment from the
actor's art. Shakespeare commands the homage of all the arts,
and their utmost capacity, when rightly directed, can do no
more than pay tribute to his splendour ; the splendour of the
greatest master of our mother tongue, the most completely
equipped of all the literary men who ever wrote. More than
this, he had the most intimate and varied knowledge of the
stage, and that is why his work is the actor's greatest pride and
most exacting trial. To play Shakespeare with any measure ot
success, it is necessary that the actor shall, above all things, be
a student of character. To touch the springs of motive, to seize
all the shades of expression, to feel yourself at the root and
foundation of the being you are striving to represent — in a word
to impersonate the characters of Shakespeare — this is a task
which demands the most exacting discipline, the widest com-
mand of the means of illustration. Of all the triumphs of the
stage, there is none so exalting as that of a representation of
Shakespeare, which gives to the great mass of playgoers a
strong and truthful impression of his work, and a suggestion
of the ideal which his exponents are honourably struggling to
attain."
HENRY IRVING.
JAN. i, 1889.] « TOLD TO THE DOCTOR:'
s*
15
to the Doctor."
BY HENRY PETTITT.
4,
AT suppers at
night, sir?
Why often.
Just a steak
and a bottle
of stout,
Some potatoes — yes ;
cheese, with a pickle
— that is if there's
any about,
With a nightcap ot
whisky and water
which I have as I get
into bed,
And I drop off to sleep
when a dozen of
" Dagonet " ballads
I've read.
Do I dream much r Well ! that's what's the matter, and why I'm
consulting with you.
Last night I'd some radishes extra — and a roll — yes, a French
one, and new.
And the dreams that I had — they were awful. First of all I
was flying in air ;
Then I was sinking, and sinking — down — down — to I needn't say
where.
Then the lobsters were crawling about me ; eels wriggled and
circled my neck ;
And then from the horns of a bull, sir, I was tossed to the
terrible wreck
1 6 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889
Of an emigrant ship off the Needles, where the passengers'
cries of despair
For life-belts were useless — the owners had forgotten to have any
there.
Then up went the rockets to signal for succour right over our
heads,
But the lifeboat was locked in the boathouse, and the crew fast
asleep in their beds,
And the coastguardsman shouted out sadly, " We came here to
lend you a hand,"
But we started away in a hurry, and the grapnels were left on
the land.
Then the waves seized me tight in their clutches, I was dragged
from the deck of the ship .
As an octopus crept from a cavern, and stretched out his feelers
to grip ;
And I fled, where the sands of the desert spread out in a limit-
less plain,
When I panted and shouted for water,, and as usual shouted in
vain.
Oh ! the heat, surely hell was not hotter, as I rushed to the
window and found
That the house was on fire, but the firemen were busy and
couldn't come round ;
The escape was locked up till the morning, .the man had gone
home with the key,
And the Volunteer engines were useless, as the turncock was
out on the spree.
After that in the streets with my clothes off I wandered in terror
and shame,
When the hiss of the swift locomotive to the box of the signal-
man came ;
And being a bit of a poet it flashed on my slumbering brain
That my father — or mother — or missus — or children must be in
the train.
MR. I-IF.NKY IRVING.
" There's no art
To find the mind's construction in the face."
M/VOHKTH, Act i, Sc.
KROM A PHOTOGRAPH SPECIALLY TAKKN FOR "TH* THCATRK
HY WARVVtCIC BROOICBS, 350, OXKORI> ROAD, MANCHESTER.
JAN. i, 1889.] JUST A FEW OBSERVATIONS. ,7
And I was nailed down in my coffin, and buried alive in a
grave,
Helpless to turn the right points on, to wake up to succour and
save ;
But the worst of my trouble was this, sir, and it cut to the heart
like a knife :
I was helpless to work out the story, for I hadn't a child or a
wife.
Then next I was up as a jockey, on a mare that was sure of
a place,
But our stable was backing a dark one, and I lost if I won in the
race,
And though I was pulling my hardest, The Nightmare came in
by a head ;
And then I woke up with an oath, sir, and kicked myself out of
the bed.
Just a Few Observations.
'VE no story to tell and
no " song to sing, O."
Perhaps you will
allow me to discourse
chattily on any thea-
trical topics that may
occur to me. You hope I won't
re-commence a discussion about
the status of the histrion, which
is such a delicate subject. I
consider it settled. Why ? Be-
cause I hear that an ex-
tragedian has been writing on
it, and he must be heavy
enough to settle anything of at
all a delicate nature. I have
not read the book by this ex-actor, but even he can't be so ex-
acting as to compel me to undergo such a severe penance. I read
NEW SERIFS. — VOL. XIII. *c
1 8 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889^
his recollections of ; that was enough for me. That
settled the status question as far as some people were con-
cerned. Bother the status. I didn't start it. Kettle began it -f
no, I beg pardon, I mean Mrs. Kendal began it, and may finish it
if she likes. As Mr. F. C. Phillips in his last novel observes, " a
discussion on this generally ends in personalities." The tu
quoquc repartee at all events puts the argufiers on the same
level, and with that status let them be satisfied. Here, at
all events, I am not going to say another word on the
subject.
* * * *
Except this, which is indirectly connected with it. In writing
to thank M. Lafontaine for giving me his autographed photo-
graph of himself as the Abbe Constantin — a masterpiece — I
observed that .could Bossuet have seen him in this part and
have witnessed this play (which is so pure as to be an exception
to most plays), it would have gone far to prove, even to that
great Bishop, what possibilities for good there were in the
drama, and would have reconciled him to the existence of one
actor at least, and perhaps one company, on condition, probably,
that his and their performance should be limited to " 1'Abbe
Constantin." Throughout Europe, in the beginning of the
eighteenth century, the comedian's profession was in more or
less disrepute, which, as a body, it seems they did very little to
lessen.
* * * *
Apropos of Bossuet, when Regnier the actor went to Mon-
seigneur Afire, Archbishop of Paris, to ask him, in the name of
the Comedie FranQaise, to remove the excommunication under
which, as it was then supposed, the profession of actor lay, the
Archbishop replied, " I cannot remove what does not exist. The
sacraments of the Church are free to all good Christians every-
where." The conditions which the rituels of Paris imposed on
the clergy in Bossuet' s time, and which he quotes, had been
abrogated, but when, and if formally, I have not as yet been able
to ascertain. No doubt, in the eighteenth century, a certain
number of the French clergy — among whom are to be included
the unclerical ecclesiastics, nominally Abbes, who were only
tonsured in order to legally hold benefices, and therefore were
bound by no vows — were only too ready to compound for their
TAN. i. 1889] JUST A FEW OBSERVATIONS. 19
>
Own laxity by siding with their conscientious brethren in- whole-
sale denunciation of dramatk entertainments and all that they
involved. Puritanism in England set on foot the tradition
that the drama, playhouses and players, must necessarily
be irreligious, and the subsequent reaction against Puritanism
materially helped in justifying the traditions to serious-minded
persons.
* * * *
There is no rule to prevent an English Protestant clergyman
going to the theatre. He is as free to do so as he is to marry.
In the Roman Catholic Church every diocese has its own regu-
lations for its own clergy, which, of course, cannot contradict
or be in any sort of opposition to the Church's universal disci-
pline. A Roman Catholic priest cannot visit a theatre within
his own diocese. But an Irish priest, for example, coming over
for a holiday, might go to a theatre in London ; only he is not
allowed. to perform any official act of a sacerdotal character
during the period he is indulging his theatrical tastes. I have
never heard of one case of an English Catholic priest being*
permitted to assist as a spectator at any theatre in England.
When Mr. Toole in some part of his reminiscences (I cannot
recall exactly the passage, but I am pretty sure I saw the state-
ment either in Mr. Hatton's book or in the " Sunday Times ";,.
says that several priests from a neighbouring Roman Catholic
seminary attended one of his performances in the provinces, he
must have mistaken students, who would be in clerical costume,
for priests. I'm sure if the latter could have been present they
would have enjoyed Johnnie's rich humour amazingly, for there
could be no better audience than a party of clerics, to whom the
fun of "Ici on Parle Fran9ais " would be a most enjoyable
relaxation. Whether a Catholic priest can or cannot witness a
theatrical performance is only a matter of discipline, which
legitimate authority might relax. At various times I have
seen several clergymen of the Anglican Establishment in full
clerical attire at the theatre. At a certain class of entertain-
ment their presence seems to me as incongruous as their
dragoon's moustache and cleanly shaven chin and cheeks is
inconsistent with their clerical coat and imitation Roman
collar.
* * * *
WThen I mentioned " a certain class of entertainment" just
20 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
now, I was thinking of operas boitffes and burlesque pieces or
extravaganzas as they are placed on the stage nowadays. Why
do I use the expression 'burlesque pieces' instead of 'burlesque' ?
That shows me you have not read what I said on the subject in
the " Universal Review " last October. Not read it. No, why
should you ? Probably you wouldn't agree with it or it with you.
I am not going to repeat it all here, don't be afraid. I only
said, among other things, that "strictly speaking" a piece of
this sort ought not to be termed " a burlesque " any more than
you would speak of " a comic " or " a tragic." The frivolous
objector might observe that years ago I might have spoken
•of " a fanny." Yes, on the river before outriggers were in
fashion. I don't deny that "a burlesque" is so used, and
that nobody can have any doubt as to the kind of show
he is going to witness when "a burlesque" is announced.
I also observed that it was "not necessarily a travesty."
If that's all, it wasn't muchy and not particularly new,
•eh ? Well, it wasn't all — so if you're interested — read the
article ; and as to its being new, why, to adapt Mr. Rider
Haggard to the occasion, " and now happens a strange thing."
In changing the position of some books I came unexpectedly
on a small neatly and strongly bound volume which had hidden
itself away, for I don't know how long, behind some bulky
tomes of a serious character, as if out of sheer modesty it
would not dare show itself in such superior company. Certainly,
somehow or other the little volume had remained in uncongenial
society, for it had stolen away from its theatrical friends and other
companions of a light and airy description on the shelf to
which it properly belonged, and had lost its way in a bookcase
filled with theological and philosophical works. What business
had a volume containing " Hamlet Travestie," " Rejected
Addresses," and "A Lecture upon Heads," to be among
" Cicero de Senectute," Aristotle's " Ethics," Hobbes's " Plato,"
St. Augustine's " Civitas Dei," Wetzler's " Apologie," Newton's
41 Principia," Newman's " Grammar of Assent," " The Bamp-
ton Lectures," and a number of others of a grave tone ? I
rescued it from being crushed by such weighty authorities, and
on opening it — it is most perfectly bound and lies open before
me at this moment — I found the first in the collection to be
41 Hamlet Travestie " (why not " Travesty " r) " in three acts, with
JAN. i, 1889.] JUST A FK\V OBSERVATIONS. 21
Burlesque Annotations after the manner of Dr. Johnson and
Geo. Steevens, Esqre., arid the' Various Commentators."
And on the same page lower down I see that this
is the " Fifth Edition," so it is evident there was a public
to buy -even burlesques merely as literature in 1814,.
which is the date this publication bears. I thought till
now that I had read this " Hamlet Travestie," but it must have
been some other one, as I seem to remember the cast and the
name of the theatre where it was performed in the page con-
taining the dramatis persona. Perhaps I am confusing it with a
burlesque of " Othello." These irreverent jesters would not leave
the bard alone in those bad old days, but certainly I do not
recollect this particular edition of " Hamlet Travestie," which
does not appear to have been publicly performed. After a
humorous dedication, there is a preface, in which the author
anticipates the reception which his work is sure to meet with at
the hands of a certain class of readers and critics. And in doing
this the author also anticipated my sentiments on the subject
as expressed in the article above mentioned. For example,
Mr. Poole very sensibly observes that "the objection most
commonly urged against burlesques and parodies in general is,
that they tend to bring into ridicule and contempt those authors
against whose works they are directed. That this objection
will hold when applied to works of inferior merit or to such as
are deficient' in sense or genius is freely admitted ; but, when
used with reference to such writings as, from their histrionic
merit, have long been established in the public estimation, its.
futility is evident. Homer and Virgil have both been the
subjects of strong burlesques, but they are still read with
unabated admiration," and so forth. Euripides was burlesqued
by Aristophanes, and, if I remember rightly, the person of the
tragic poet was caricatured on the stage by an actor made up to
represent him. Rien n'-est sacrc pour iiti sapeur we all know, and
a thorough sapeur ; but an uncommonly witty one, was Aristo-
phanes. Evidently he disliked Euripides, had a grudge against
him perhaps ; and it is only when personal spite, envy, hatred,
malice, and all uncharitableness animate the parodist, that
his work becomes objectionable from every point of view. Nine
times out of ten I should say the butt is regarded affectionately
by those who are accustomed to get the most fun out of him,
22 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
and who love him as topers would love an inexhaustible bottle.
The liveliest caricaturist of Mr. Gladstone may be among his
heartiest supporters. The cleverest imitator of Mr. Irving may
be one of his warmest admirers. The lover, if a caricaturist
with a strong sense of humour, would be more alive than any
ordinary observer to what might be wanting in his lady's
almost perfect taste, and might playfully execute a caricature
whose exaggeration would show her whatever was a trifle
absurd in the fashion which she had recently adopted. I doubt
if even the caricaturist passionately in love would presume so
much on a short acquaintance, but in a long engagement he
might, and certainly such a design would be made in the spirit
of the purest fun, actuated by a true artistic feeling in regard to
the appearance or manners of the person to whom he had given
his heart and was about to give his hand with his pencil in it.
In a foot-note to this preface I find another observation in
which what I said about burlesque and travesty has been anti-
cipated by John Poole, who says, " It may not be amiss to remark
that, although oftentimes indiiferently, the terms burlesque and
travesty are properly distinct. Burlesque is more general in its
application, travesty more particular. The former is levelled
against blemishes and defects, which its object is to expose
and ridicule, and please by comparison ; the latter is constructed
upon the various excellencies of any particular work, and derives
its effect solely from the contrast. Hence a travesty, instead of
derogating from the value or reputation of its subject, may be
considered as an inadequate test of its merit."
His definitions are not strict, but in a general way I agree
with him. Yet this burlesque of his on " Hamlet " is but poor
stuff, though it did reach five editions. I yield to no one in my
admiration for the genius of Shakespeare, though some wilful
and perverse contemporaries have delighted to represent me in
their writings as if I were inclined to treat Shakespeare
and his plays as a Christian should treat the devil and all his
works. This is trash : all I ever said on the subject was that
no practical manager would put a play of Shakespeare's on
the stage intact, and expect to please a nineteenth century
audience. There is scarcely one play of Shakespeare's that can
be so treated. In the " Henry Irving Shakespeare," ably edited
by Frank Marshall and talented assistants, in the course of the
IAN. i, 1889.] JUST A FE\V OBSERVATIONS. 23
prefatory remarks to each play, an account is given of its stage
history, how, when, and where it was played, with what re-
arrangement of scenes and omissions 01 text.
Had William Shakespeare, actor, manager, dramatic author,
and poeVfeeen living in the latter half of the nineteenth cen-
tury, he would have accommodated the form of his plays to
the fashion of the time, and so brought each one of them
within the compass of a three hours' entertainment at most,
including entr'actes. This is all I ever meant, though some
of " the unfriendlies " still from time to. time perversely and mali-
ciously attempt to make out a case against me of having in-
variably deprecated the plays of Shakespeare. The Gobbos,
the Dromios, in fact the majority of Shakespeare's low comedy
parts, suited the taste and humour of their time. But now their
fun is antiquated, their jokes are stale, their illusions unin-
telligible without antiquarian notes. Their quips and cranks,
jeux de mots (then the fashion in even the most serious litera-
ture), are feeble, and the rhyming couplets are, for the most part,
so childish as to be unworthy of a great dramatic poet of our day.
Nowhere is there such great scope for the work of an intelligent
stage manager as in the production of a Shakespearian play.
Hitherto I venture to say that in such efforts Henry Irving
stands unrivalled. I have never watched the process step by
step, but judge by results, and credit him with the entire respon-
sibility ; and though there may be one in the series which has
achieved less success than the others, yet I do not remember
one distinct failure. This is remarkable where the principal
actor is absolutely his own stage manager.
# * # *
Stage management is to my mind the most interesting and
absorbing department of the drama in action. The stage
manager must be an autocrat in his own kingdom, and so far it
would at first sight seem fitting that a manager who may be
also lessee or sole proprietor of a theatre should be his own
stage manager. But this, as a rule, is a mistake, even where
the manager is not the principal actor or an actor at all. Where
there is a partnership, one of the partners may be the manager
of the firm's financial business and the other the manager of the
stage business ; but as the latter must have his share in the
finance, it burdens him with extra work to which he cannot give
THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
due attention. A wise lessee, be he actor, author, or manager,
or all three, should relieve himself of all responsibility with
regard to the stage by selecting a first-rate stage manager, and
constituting him the supreme authority in his own department,,
from whose decision there should be no appeal.
* # * *
Nowadays too much stage management is required of the author,,
who is expected to " personally conduct " the stage management.
This, as a rule, is a mistake. The dramatist's place is not on
the stage. After the piece has been read to the company by the
author — I hold to this old fashion for a variety of reasons, though
it is torture to most authors — the author and the stage manager
should work together first. When Mr. Barker was stage
manager for me years ago, the plan I used with him was this :
We took the first part of the first act in my study, where I had
my plans already drawn, showing the situation of every character
from sentence to sentence and from scene to scene, the movements
being marked with arrowheads indicating the direction of the
steps to be taken ; and all this with such close attention to
details, the slightest business being written out carefully,
with numbers or letters referring to the plan. Thus six sheets of
foolscap might be occupied with the business which was to
accompany the dialogue that filled only half a page. To have
had a large model theatre, to have had my characters made in
card-board, scenes painted and set, and so forth, would have
been far too expensive a matter for me ; and though the plan is
a good one, yet it has this defect, that, without the plans and
notes as well, it would be impossible to refer to a previous
situation about which there might be some doubt without
changing the position of the models, and returning to the previous
situation, which even then, unless noted down on paper, could
not be relied upon as precisely exact. Not a movement on the
stage should be made without a valid reason for it, and, there-
fore, when a character has to do a certain thing, the reason for
it must be a practical one, and should be noted down for
reference in case of dispute. Mr. Barker and myself used to
work at this overnight, suggested difficulties as if they were
chess problems, and solved them. Sometimes we would leave
one or two questions open to be decided next morning by
our going on the stage, and, before the company assembled,
JAN. i, 1889.] JUST A FEW OBSERVATIONS. 25
5*
rehearsing the situation in question by ourselves. Literally a
case of " solvitur ambulando." Then I went back to my study,
having plenty of work to do there, and Mr. Barker rehearsed
as much of the piece as we had previously prepared together,
and got that amount of it perfect. So we went on, until
the rehearsals were finished and the piece ready for produc-
tion. This plan I have always adopted whenever I could
get a stage manager to work with me, but generally the
manager has represented that I must at all events " start them/'
which means "go on with them," and for this sacrifice of his
time a dramatist ought not to be called upon. A youthful
author loves rehearsals, which to him mean very little more than
standing idly on the stage, and chatting occasionally with
persons more interested in their own parts than in the perfection
of the ensemble. He is young, and one way or another his
vanity is flattered by the circumstances of a rehearsal. But
later on in life, when his day is fully occupied and every
minute has its value, he grudges the time spent away
from his desk, and is only too glad to find an intelligent and
cheerful stage manager who is a thorough master of his art, and
who officially takes upon himself the responsibility of producing
the piece. A rough plan, a few notes, a reading together, and
a consultation over each act between author and stage manager,
should be quite sufficient, and the latter should recommend all
the cutting or changes that may be necessary to the success of
the piece. And if Shakespeare were alive to-day, a well-to-do
busy man, still writing for the theatres but not acting, this is
the plan a stage manager ought to pursue even with him, and
this is just in effect what a sensible manager like Henry Irving
does do when he produces a Shakespearian play. Anything
more ? Lots, but not at present. Hope I don't intrude. Au
reiioir.
F. C. BURNAND.
THE THEATRE.
[JAN. I, 1889.
The Spider's Whistle;
OR,
By WILSON BARRETT.
PLAY which
was produced
in London
some few
years ago, by
a manager who for cer-
tain reasons shall be
mameless — written by
certain persons who for
other certain reasons
must be nameless too —
had among the dramatis
personae a character nick-named by his associates " The Spider/'
Now this particular spider had a signal, by which he made his
presence known to the said associates when he could not com-
municate orally with them, or send up his card or name in the
way in which folks who have not the fear of the detective, or
the more conspicuous "bobby," before their eyes would do.
This signal was a whistle, which went thus —
This whistle had a strange kind of fascination for the company
who played in the piece, and eventually the signal, or whistle of
the Spider, became the signal of the company — not only of
JAN. i, 1889.] THE SPIDERS WHISTLE. 27
the original company, but of most of the other companies who
travelled the provinces with the same play ; thus
was whistled into the wondering ears of many a would be
sleeper in the country towns when the " boys " were going home
and bidding each other good night. It was whistled by Jack-
across the street to Tom as a " Good morning ; " by Harry to
Dick, as a " Come here, I want you ; " by Clem to Joe, as a
" Where are you ? " Particularly useful was it on arrival in a
strange town. Up and down the likely streets chums would
tramp on a Sunday night, and find each other always when they
tramped to the tune of
It was the signal in Company A, which was privileged to
travel in the large towns ; and it was no less the signal of Com-
pany K, which was confined to the " very smalls/' It was a
useful signal. It enabled Joe at a pinch to find Walter and
borrow a half-crown at a needful moment, when but for that
Walter might never have known Joe wanted the half-crown.
See what Walter and Joe would have conjointly lost but for
that whistle ! That whistle was useful in a thousand ways, but
never more useful than on the occasion I am about to try to
relate.
In Company K of the celebrated drama
WRITTEN BY
were engaged Alfred and Alice Loder, described in the bills as
Mr. Alfred Loder and Miss Alice Caulton. They were honestly
and legitimately married, dear reader, and as tightly bound by
law as they were by love. But it was preferred somehow by
those who governed Company K, and by themselves, that
Mrs. Alfred Loder should be suspected of " being no better than
she should be" rather than she should lose what attraction she
28 THE THEATRE. L/AN. i, 1889.
possessed as Miss Alice Caulton by being announced as part of
the " one " which John Loder, by his marriage with her, had
helped to make. They were indeed one. No, that is not quite
correct. I ought to say one and a half, for the pet of the
company, their little five-year-old son, added certainly another
half to their unit. He was named Austin, and nicknamed
"Humpy," not because he was in any way humpy or deformed —
(on the contrary, a straighter-limbed little fellow never walked ;
go where he would, his innocent round chubby face, his bright
blue eyes and golden locks, attracted attention and won him
admiration) — but on account of a little incident that I will
briefly relate before I toddle with Austin on to my, or rather
on to his, story. Austin had, of course to travel from town to
town with his mother and father, and they had to journey with
the rest of the company. As they did not choose the hours of
starting, naturally the much smaller Austin could not do so
either. The time of travelling was fixed by the manager, and
he could not fix it to please everybody, and very seldom was he
able to fix it to please Master Austin. The start had, as a rule,
to be made very early in the morning, and very early in the
morning was " not for Austin if he knew it." Still Austin had
to go, and one damp, cold morning the poor little chap was
fished out of his warm, wee, cosy nest, and dressed much against
his will. He arrived on the railway platform very grumpy and
discontented with things in general. " How are you, Austin r "
asked Tom Pervoker, the low comedian. Austin did not
answer, but rubbed his little knuckles into his pretty blue eyes
and looked glum. " I said * How are you ? '" repeated Mr. Pervoker,
" and gentlemen always answer when they are spoken to, you
know, Austin." "I know zay does gen'ally, but I'se no
gemplum this morning. I'se got ze hump," replied Austin.
Now " the hump," dear reader, is a slang term for bad temper,
and that generally out-of-sorts condition which too many of us
exhibit, most to those who are most likely to put up with it, or
otherwise to those who most depend upon us for love, sympathy,
or the needful in any shape or form. However, Austin's hump
did not last long. Indeed, at the first stopping-place he was
wide awake and as merry as a grig (whatever that may be), and
when asked whether he'd still got the hump, replied, " No, I'se
frowed it away."
7-Vo,,. a Photograph taken xpeci ally for " '/'/„< Tl,,>,,tn> " b^ fandyfe, of Liverpool.
LITTLE AUSTIN.
30 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
Itis hardly necessary to say that this bright little child, bonnie
to look at, bonnie to listen to, and bonnier still to live with, was
a great pet in the company. To be just to him, he had the hump
very seldom, and then only on severe provocation. The slang
expression " hump " he had picked up from his elders, as he
picked up most things, for the imitative faculty was strong in
Austin. This imitative faculty worried Humpy into learning the
" Spider's Whistle/' Day after day he struggled to get the
notes, and, aided by his zealous teachers, he eventually mastered
them, and could whistle the call almost as clearly and shrilly as
his friends, so that Humpy's constant repetition of the " Spider's
Whistle " was apt at times to grow a little tiresome. Heaven
be praised for the whistle and for Humpy' s imitative faculty ; but
for both there would be no little Humpy now to cheer and
amuse us. Humpy, among his other Bohemian proclivities, had
a tendency to wander. Nothing could keep him indoors save
his parents. They had of course at times to be at the theatre
for rehearsals, and there Humpy was not always permitted to
go. He would be left at the lodgings in care of the landlady, of
whom he would presently tire, and before that worthy could say
" Jack," much more "Jack Robinson," Humpy was gone. He
would wander about the streets until he found what he called
the "fee-a-ter;" sometimes he walked in, no one ever knew how,
or he was carried thither by some deeply sympathising stranger.
Sometimes Humpy came in a nonchalant kind of a way in a
carriage : some lady had seen the pretty boy wandering
about evidently lost, had stopped to make inquiries respecting
him, and, being struck with his quaint ways and quainter speech,
had at his request taken him in her carriage to " the fee-a-ter."
Humpy on these occasions would assume a calmly superior kind
of air among the company, and look about him with a quiet
dignity that seemed to say, " See, it's no use trying to keep me at
home ; I shall get where I want to get always." Whenever
Humpy was found (and he was never lost) he invariably gave
his name in full, and told his story thus : " Austin Arfur
Loder, and I'se lost myself, and can't find my way home."
"Where is your home, my little man r " he would be asked, and
"Ze fee-a-ter" would be his reply. And to the theatre he
would be guided, prattling to and amusing his conductors as he
went. This wandering proclivity of Humpy's caused his parents
JAN. i, 1889.] THE SPIDKR'S ll'/flSTLE. 31
a little anxiety now and then, but he came back so safely and
so happily after all his peregrinations, that they got to feel to a
certain extent confident in his ability at all times ultimately to
" find his way home." Humpy was told, however, whenever he
should get lost at night, and could get no one to find for him
" his way home," he was to give the Spider's Whistle. Nothing
delighted Humpy more than to play at " Peep-Bo " with the
company, and give the whistle when they pretended they could
not find him. Would Humpy had never done more than play
at hide and seek ! But the time came all too soon when he
was lost indeed, and all the seeking of those who loved him
proved in vain. They had been living in a dream of fancied
security, from which they were to be rudely awakened in a
manner as strange as it was terrible. The company had been
engaged to appear for " six nights only " in the quaint
little seaside town of Abbots-Brotherwick, on the east coast
of Scotland. A lovely neighbourhood with iron-bound rocks
and cliffs, rugged picturesque caves, creeks and coves, about
which when the weather was rough the waves dashed fiercely.
When the weather was calm the beach was delightful, the
sands soft, and children would play about the mouths of
the numerous caves which their elders explored with torches.
One of these caves was called the Devil's Cauldron, one end
of which was on a level with the shore, from which there was
a gradual ascent by a rocky channel terminating in a large
hole in the rocks, in a little creek some two hundred yards from
the shore entrance. In calm weather, when the tide was out, it
was a perfectly safe walk from the shore to the opening in the
rocks, but the descent from thence to the shingle of the creeks
below was always accompanied by more or less danger. But in
rough weather, when the tide was at its full, nothing could live
there, for the waves dashed in at the shore end, and, pouring in
rushing torrents through the cave, hurled themselves in seething
foam through the opening at the creek into the air. The
curious effect of the spray from this outlet bursting into space
had no doubt suggested the name of the Devil's Cauldron. One
bright July day Mr. and Mrs. Loder walked through this cave,
leaving Humpy digging castles in the sand. When they re-
turned they were so full of what they had seen that they could
talk of nothing else, and Humpy heard so much of the Devil's
32 THE THEATRE. JAN. i, 18*9.
Cauldron that he begged to be taken there. This request was
refused, as many of Humpy's demands were, with the formula of
" It is not the place for little boys," a remark which always
provoked a certain amount of resentment in Humpy's small
breast. He could never be brought to understand why that
which was good sauce for the elder ganders should not be equally
good sauce for the youthful goose.
The morning following the visit to the cave, Humpy's father
and mother were still talking of its wonders, and Mrs. Loder
was telling her husband of a terrible dream she had had of
the place. She dreamed that she had been chained to the
rocks in the centre of the cave by some unseen power while
the tide was down, and that she saw the waves dash in at the
shore entrance and recede again, each wave gathering height
and force beyond that which preceded it, until the waters were
within a few yards of her feet. Terror-stricken, she tried to
scream, but could utter no sound. At last a huge wave
came thundering into the cave. Just as it was about to over-
whelm her she gave a scream — a real one this time — which
woke her panting and breathless from the nightmare which had
so tortured her. Humpy listened to his mother's vivid relation
of her dream with open ears and open mouth, and then delivered
his little soul with " Umph ! Yes ; zat's a good deem, zat is.
Wish I could deem like zat. 'Pears to me I ain't got nosing to
deem about."
Lucky Austin ! Be thankful for it. Many of your elders
would gladly give up all their dreams for your innocent oblivion.
Austin was, for him, exceptionally silent during the whole of
that day, and seemed deep in thought. He was maturing in
h'is little mind a plan which, had his parents known it, would
have horrified them. But they didn't know it, and little imagined
what their darling was plotting. If they had, what misery they
would have been spared ! But Humpy kept his little secret all
too well.
At seven o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Loder went to the theatre,
leaving their child to the care of the landlady. No sooner
were they well out of sight than Austin, as was his \vont,
gave his temporary guardian the slip, and toddled off as fast as
his little legs would carry him in the direction of the sea. At
the theatre the performance proceeded as usual. Austin's father
g^vg?^^^^^
.- v v v f v*^p<^vvTr*~rTrrvTirr*-**~ri, -vw vwV vvvv «rvTT» -*• vir
MI>- \VALLIS.
washing and a martial outside.'
As Vor LIKF. IT, Act i, Sc. 5
FROM A PHOTOCRAPH ^PFCIALLY TAKEN FOR " THR THEATRE
BY BARKAL L', LONDON AND LIVERPOOL.
JAN. i, 1889.]
THE SriDI-.PCS WHISTLE.
33
and mother had no suspicion that anything was wrong" until
the commencement of the last p,ct of the play, when the landlady
sent in a message that " she was at the stage door, and wanted
to know whether Master Austin was at the theatre." This
message" naturally startled Austin's father and mother, as they
fondly believed their darling was snugly and soundly sleeping.
The woman was sent for to the wings, hurried questions were
asked and replied to, and the inexorable cue called the alarmed
parents to their duties. It is a terrible thing in connection with
the stage that no matter what suffering, mental or physical, the
actor may be enduring, when the cue comes he must answer to
it. Pain, sorrow, anger, mirth, joy, grief, may sway the man,
the actor must portray the passions of his part. While his
heart may be breaking he must be the embodiment of mirth, or
when burning with righteous wrath appear the personification
of serene contentment and joy.
Mrs. and Mr. Loder, oddly enough, had in the parts they were
playing to depict the joys of being re-united and recovering their
lost children, while in reality they were distracted at the only
too probable loss of their own beloved boy.
The longest night is succeeded by the day, and the longest
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. D
34 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
"last act must end sometime. No act ever seemed so long as
the one in which the Loders were playing, but it finished at last,
and then they rushed to the, by this time, weeping landlady to
eagerly question her and discover that beyond the fact that
Humpy was gone she knew nothing.
Off with the paint and the powder of the play. Away with
the fifth-act joys of the hero and heroine of the stage. Romance
and reality jostle each other for supremacy and are running neck
and neck in a race which will end in at least a dead heat, even if
reality does not end in a canter.
" Don't worry, Alice, he's all right " said the father, feeling
in his heart that he was all wrong. . " I know that," said the
mother, knowing that she knew nothing of the kind, but knowing,
on the contrary, that her mother's instinct made her soul shiver
with the consciousness that her baby, if not lost to her for ever,
was in deadly peril of being so. Actors' sympathies are quickly
stirred. The story of Humpy's disappearance soon ran the
round of the little community, and all were eager and anxious
to assist in his recovery. Every likely persqn that he might
have called upon was questioned to no purpose. No one had
seen him all the evening. The unhappy parents were half dis-
tracted. In the little town most of the people were asleep.
Quietness and darkness prevailed. Yet up and down the streets
wandered Mr. and Mrs. Loder, the unhappy father giving the
Spider's Signal at every corner. But there was no reply.
" Let us try the police station, Alfred," said the poor mother,
trying to repress her tears. At the police station the drowsy
sergeant on duty was "very sorry," but he "had not seen or
heard anything of the bairn."
" Of course if there had been any — any — accident you would
have heard, would you not r " asked the father ; and the mother
shuddered at the word.
" Ay, we should have heard, sir. Maybe the wean is wi'
some friends, and in the morning ye'll hear of him," said the
sergeant, kindly.
"Thanks, yes, perhaps so," said Loder. "Come, Alice
dear, come."
Out into the dark night again went the couple, Loder
clasping tightly the hand of his wife. Home to their
humble lodgings to find several of the company waiting
JAN. i, ,889.] THE SPID^&S \riIISTLE. ;,5
for news, but no little Humpy. Sleep or rest was out of th<3
question. The sun would rise At half-past two, and they would
continue their search, they would have a better chance then.
Loder begged his wife to rest for a time, and with one or two of
his companions returned to the streets, wandering up and down
in their fruitless search until the day broke.
Little Humpy, on leaving the lodgings on the previous
evening, had made straight for the beach. His little mind
was full of the wonders of the cave, and he had determined to
discover for himself if it did not contain something for him to
dream about. After wandering on the sands for a time, he at
last found the entrance, which on the shore end was wide and light.
As he toddled onwards, the cave narrowed and, darkened.
Humpy felt no fear, for on looking back he could see the wide
opening, and the light there was strong and bright. Suddenly
the path took a sharp turn to the left and the ascent grew
steeper. Humpy toiled on for some time, until, feeling tired, he
stopped to rest. Then he discovered he could no longer see the
opening by which he had entered. Still the light which came
from the far end was fairly good, and the little fellow was still
3 6 THE THEATRE. '[JAN. i, 1889.
without fear. After resting he started again, to find after he
had walked some little distance there was a ledge or shelf in the
rock too high for him to climb. For some minutes he struggled
to overcome this obstacle in vain. The light ahead was fading.
Behind was pitch darkness. Now, for the first time, Humpy
began to whimper. His little mouth twitched, the corners fell,
he gave a sob, and with a cry of " Mammy, mammy ! " he started
to return the way he came. Unable to see, he groped his way
into a turning in the cave, and stumbling, fell. Now the little
fellow's nerve deserted him utterly. He was in utter darkness.
His own cries echoed loudly and dismally through the hollow
cave and frightened him still more. Dragging himself to his
feet, he blindly staggered about in the rocky recess, until, utterly
worn out with fright and fatigue, he fell against the side of the
passage and cried as if his little heart would break. " Mammy,
mammy ! daddy, daddy ! do come to me. Oh do, mammy !
mammy ! " the poor child cried again and again, until at last
tired nature proved even too much for terror, and in the lonely
darkness he sobbed himself to sleep. Humpy had his wish.
He " had somesin to deem about " at last.
The sun had risen with an angry flush under a heavy bank of
slaty clouds. The tide was flowing in rapidly — already it was
licking and splashing the foot of the cliff. Out at sea, as far as the
eye could reach, the " white horses " were prancing gaily. Loder
and his wife, accompanied by Mr. Pervoker, had Avandered on to
the cliffs. A lingering hope that Humpy might have fallen asleep
in one of the many grassy dells still possessed the mother, but
the father's soul was filled with a dread, that he did not breathe
to his wife, that his baby boy was drowned. The wind was
blowing strongly over the cliff, the tide rising higher and higher,
the breakers beating with a sullen roar against the rocks.
Loder's heart sank within him. " Come, Alice dear, it is no
use searching here, come into the town." The mother's hungry
eyes searched in every direction in vain. Wearily and des-
pondingly they retraced their steps, 'Loder and Pervoker
whistling the Signal as they went. As they neared the little
creek which formed the outlet of the cave, the wind was hushed
for a moment. Loder whistled. " Was it fancy ! Listen ! "
JAN. i, 1889.] /•///-; SPIDER'S \\'HISTLK. ,57
^
There ! there ! again faintly along the breeze was borne the
sounds.
"Answer, Tom." "I can't," said the father, trembling in
every limb. " Austin ! Austin ! " screamed the distracted
mother, "where are you ? " The faint sound of the whistle was
heard again. " He's in the cave ! Oh, my God, help him and
save him," said Loder, running fast towards the overhanging
cliff in which was the opening of ihe cave. " Stop ! stop man ! "
called Tom, " the cliif is like a wall — you can't descend. It
is death ! " " My boy, my boy ! " cried the father, " I must save
him! I will!" "Alfred, pray take care. Ah, merciful Father,
he's down ! " No, no ! With nigh superhuman strength and
activity, Loder was descending the cliff, holding on to every
twig, tuft of grass, or projection of the rocks. The mother and
wife, half mad with terror, her face blanched to a deathly white,
her hair blown about by the wind, stood with clasped hands. " If
he reaches him he cannot return," thought Tom; "he'll never
scale the cliff alone, much less with the child. I'm off for help.
Keep up your courage, Mrs. Loder, I'll soon be back." Away
Tom sped in the direction of the fishermen's cottages on the
cliff. Meanwhile from ledge to ledge crawled the father. The
tide was rising faster and faster. Huge waves were now break-
ing against the cliffs, and the spray and foam dashed up to
where Loder was fighting for his child's life and his own, adding a
fresh horror to the scene. " Heavens," thought he, " the waves will
soon burst right through the cave ; he will be dashed to pieces ! "
Despair gave him new strength. Clinging, sliding, leaping, pant-
ing, breathless, his hands covered with blood, he reached at last
the mouth of the cave. " Austin ! Austin ! " he shouted, and to
his glad ears came the sound of "Daddy! daddy ! " "Where are
you, dear r " " I'se here, daddy," shouted the little fellow. On Loder
stumbled in the darkness of the cave. The roar of the wind and
waves was deadened by the louder roar of the waters as they
crashed into the cave from the beach. " My God ! I shall be
too late even now," thought Loder, and even with the thought
came the splash of water into his face. " Where are you, dear r "
" I'se here, Daddy ! " " Thank heaven ! Thank heaven ! " The
38 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
voice was at his elbow. Reaching out his hand, he felt, 011 a
ledge of the rocks, his darling child. " My boy ! My boy ! "
he sobbed, clutching him to his heart. Back up the slippery
gorge towards the mouth of the cave struggled the father.
Louder and louder roared the waters as they thundered against
the iron sides of the cave. As he staggered on with his
precious burden in his arms, a wave caught him, and, drenching
him through and through, dragged him, as it receded, to
his knees. Half choked and blinded, the wretched father
struggled to his feet and tore up the rocks, knowing if he
lingered an instant the next wave would engulf him and his
child and hurl them through the Devil!s Cauldron on to the rocks
below. Up, up, he struggled, the child clinging tightly to his
father. The opening of the cave was reached at last. The terror-
stricken mother gave a sob of thankfulness as she saw her loved
ones were alive. As Loder turned quickly along the ledge of the
rock away from the Cauldron a huge wave came dashing through
it, hurtling in clouds of foam and spray into the* air, hiding from
the mother her husband and child. But as it cleared away they
were still there, safe and unharmed. The faithful Tom had
returned with help. With much difficulty, and with some little
danger, the father and child were drawn up the cliffs by scores of
willing hands, and the mother's arms held her treasure once more.
What a shouting and cheering there was How each rough
fisherman pressed forward to touch the little hero, while Tom,
getting behind one of the men, played half hysterically at
" peep-bo," calling to Humpy, who, forgetting, childlike, all his
dangers in the joy of his deliverance, answered from his
mother's arms with "The Spider's Whistle " !
JAN. i, i889.] BALLADE OF A rol'/r.
Ballade of a Poet
in a " Player's Hide."
'To- — )
" . . . wrapt in a Player*
h
OT unto those alone who sing
Their rhythmic thought with tuneful tongue,.
Doth that high name which priest and king
Alike cry ' hallowed ' belong.
Poets there be who sing no song,
Some have but ' lived,' and some but * died,'
Yet are they of the starry throng,
O ! Poet in a " Player's Hide."
Some show, us many a hidden thing
In loveless marble waiting long,
Some fan us with the dreamy wing
Of dulcet sound to float along
Rivers of joy from realms of wrong ;
And some have only sat and sighed,
Yet are the}' of the starry throng,
O ! Poet in a " Player's Hide."
And some — but where is profiting
A theme so endless to prolong r
Whoso for life high symbols bring
Are poets, though they sing no song.
And so, dear friends, this evensong,
We hail thee such with loving pride ;
We know thee of the starry throng,
O ! Poet in a " Player's Hide."
ENVOI.
O ! Prince of Motley, gentle, strong ;
'Tis true thou hast not versified,
Yet art thou of the starry throng,
O ! Poet in a " Player's Hide."
RICHARD LE GALLIENNE-
4o
THE THEATRE.
[JAN. i, 1889.
The China Fairy,
BY GEORGE R. SIMS.
OM JOHNSON was five-
and- twenty, and a clerk
in the City. He was
married to the dearest
little woman in the
world, and they lived
in three rooms in a nice respect-
able street near Camden Town.
Rose, Tom's wife, wras a perfect
little Household Fairy. Tom
could only give her thirty shil-
lings a week out of his salary,
tut she did wonders with it. The little sitting-room was
always bright and cosy and clean, and there was always some-
thing nice for Tom's tea when he came home fagged out with
the work and worry of the office. Of course they were obliged
to be very economical, and to deny themselves many things
they would have liked ; but one treat they always allowed them-
.selves every week, and that was a visit to a place of amusement.
Tom and Rose were both very fond of the theatre, and by waiting
till a play had had a good run, and by getting to the doors early,
they generally managed to get a good place in the pit.
Being so fond of the theatre, Tom and Rose naturally took a
great deal of interest in the theatrical items of news and gossip
without which nowadays a newspaper is not considered to be
fully adapted to the requirements of the public.
Poor little Rose used to give a sigh of envy sometimes when
Tom read out to her the paragraphs about the enormous incomes
which dramatic authors were making. " Oh, Tom," she would
say, " fancy making hundreds of pounds a week like that just for
writing a play ! Fancy if you had been able to do it ! "
JAN. i, 1889.]
': CH£NA FAIRY.
" It would have been fine, wouldn't it ? " Tom would n-ply,
and then they would begin fancying what they would ha\»- <l<»n.-
with the money. They would have had a beautiful house, ami a
carriage and pair for Rose ; and when she went to the th'-. up-
on the first night to see her husband come on the stage and bow
amid the tremendous applause of a crowded house, she would
have worn the loveliest dresses, and her diamonds would have
been the envy of all the ladies.
" Oh, how beautiful it would be, Tom," the young wife cried
one day, as they conjured up visions of splendour together; " no
getting up at half-past seven in the morning for you, dear; no
turning out in all winds and weathers ; you would be able to
have your breakfast nice and comfortably with me, and take
plenty of time over it ; and you would stop at home and work in
your study, and I could bring my sewing and sit with you, and
when you'd finished we should be able to have dinner together,
and go out every evening to some place of amusement. Oh,
Tom, dear, couldn't you write a play ? "
Tom shook his head. " I'm afraid not, Rose," he said.
" There's a peculiar knack about it, I expect."
" I suppose it is very difficult," sighed Rose.
" You may be sure it is, my dear," answered Tom, " or there
would be a great many more people doing it, and the authors
42 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889
wouldn't be getting such prices for their work as we read about
in the newspapers."
One Saturday Tom and Rose went to the morning perform-
ance of a play that had been acted two hundred times straight
off in London, and the author of which was reported already
to have realised ;£ 10,000 by it.
On their way home they passed an old curiosity shop and
stopped to look in at the window. Among the odds and ends
there was a pretty little china fairy to which Rose took a great
fancy.
"Oh, Tom dear," she cried, "look at that little china figure.
Isn't it pretty ? That's just the sort of thing I should like on
my mantelshelf. I should never be tired of looking at it. Do
go in and see how much it is."
Tom went in and asked the price, and returned with the infor-
mation that it was ten shillings.
" Oh, dear," said Rose, " that's much more than we can afford.
Come along, Tom. "
But though Rose said " Come along," she didn't move. She
stood looking lovingly at the little china fairy. All at once she
gave a start. " Oh, Tom," she exclaimed ; " look at that
fairy's lips, they're moving."
" What nonsense ! " said Tom, laughing ; " you've been
staring at it ; it's an optical illusion."
" Tom, would it be very wicked if we bought it. I'd save the
money out of my housekeeping."
" Well, it's a lot of money, but I daresay it won't ruin us. I
see you want it, dear, and you shall have it."
And before Rose could stop him Tom had stepped into the
shop, and presently he came out with the little china fairy care -
fully wrapped up in paper. Rose put it in her muff — it was quite
a little fairy — and they bore it off home in triumph.
It looked so lovely on the mantelshelf, Rose couldn't take her
eyes off it, but kept going up to it all the evening and saying,
" Oh, you little dear ! " and she would have it that the fairy's
eyes were looking at her.
Tom laughed, but he confessed that it really was a very life--
like little figure. The face was quite real, and the wonderful
thing about it was that its expression seemed to change.
Being Saturday night, the young couple sat up rather late.
Jvx. i, iS89.] 777 /•; r///A'.; FAIRY.
'J'oin smoked his pipe whil K 1 to him, and they were so
comfortable and so happy that/they never noticed the time till
Tom happened to look at hi> watch, and then he cried out,
" ( iood gracious, Rose, it's one minute to twelve ! "
Rose closed her book — she had reached the end of the
chapter — lit the bedroom candle, and then Tom turned the gas
out. As he did so the big clock downstairs struck tweh < .
Just as the last stroke died away a sweet, soft, silvery voice
>-\< laimed, " Thank you so much for buying me."
Rose was so startled that she dropped the candle, which fell
on the floor and went out. Tom turned round with an excla-
mation, and there, with a halo of light round her head, stood the
little china fairy on the mantelshelf. It was the fairy who had
spoken. Her lips were parted, showing two rows of pearly teeth,
and the kindest, sweetest smile was on her face.
" Don't be frightened," said the fairy, as Rose clutched Tom
and wondered whether she ought to faint or not ; " don't be
frightened, I am a good fairy. I was turned to china by a
wicked enchantress, but every night at twelve o'clock I recover
the power of speech, which lasts until dawn. I was very un-
happy in the old curiosity shop, where I was taken by the person
who found me in a forest and thought I was an ornament. There
was nobody there at midnight for me to talk to except a lot of
Chinese idols and brass figures and creatures of that sort, and
they didn't understand me. I was very pleased when you
brought me to your nice happy home, and you can't think how
I've been longing for twelve o'clock, to be able to thank you."
"I'm sure we're very pleased," stammered Rose, "but of
course it's very odd. I don't like to ask you, but — er — would you
like anything to eat ? "
The fairy laughed a silvery laugh. "Oh, no," she said,
" fairies are never hungry. Besides, I want you to be kind
enough to open the window for me and let me fly away. If I
can get back to fairyland before dawn I may find my protectn-»,
who will take away the spell that has been put upon me."
" Oh, certainly," said Tom, " with pleasure ; " and he was pro-
ceeding to open the window when he recollected the fairy had
cost him ten shillings, and that the transaction would be a dead
loss to him.
The fairy evidently guessed what was passing in Tom's mind,
44 THE THEATRE. (]<"• i, iSS9.
for she flew gracefully off the mantelpiece and came and stood
on the table beside him.
" I will not be ungrateful," she said ; " as a reward for your
kindness I can grant you one wish, whatever it is."
" Oh, Tom ! " exclaimed Rose, who had gradually shaken off
her nervousness. " Wish to be a dramatic author."
Tom was always an obedient husband that was why he
was so happy), and so he said at once, " I wish to be a dramatic
author."
" Certainly," said the fairy. " Go to bed, and to-morrow when
you wake up you will be one. Now thank you very much, and
good night." The fairy kissed her little hand to the young
couple, spread her wings, and flew away into the moonlight.
Tom and Rose watched her as far as they could see her, then
closed the window and retired to rest.
* * - *
The next morning, when Tom woke up, he had a splitting
headache, and he felt so awfully seedy he could hardly sit up to
look at his watch.
" By Jove," he exclaimed, " it's twelve o'clock ! "
Then he looked round for Rose and found she wasn't there.
" Rose ! Rose ! " he called out, " where are you ? "
Rose came running in from the next room.
" Oh, you are awake at last, Tom," she said. "Will you have
a cup of tea r "
" I think so ; I — By Jove, I'm awfully ill, and I can hardly
open my eyes."
" I don't wonder at it," said Rose ; " it was six o'clock this
morning when you came home."
" Oh, ah, yes ! I remember," said Tom, sitting up and
looking round the large elegantly furnished bedroom, " a
beastly all-night dress-rehearsal. And I've to go down to the
theatre again to-day, and see that scene. I have to alter the
situation at the last minute to suit the scene, because the scene
itself can't be altered in time."
" Was Mr. Smith any better tempered last night ? "
"No; he swears it's the worst part he ever played, and he's
sure that it will be a frost ; and Miss Brown won't have that
speech cut out ; she says it's the only good one she has, and I'm
sure that it will be goosed, and it comes just at a critical point."
JAN. i. 1889-] A///: CfffNA FAIRY, 4.5
lorn was just vjointf to lie i:»»wn a-'aiii till the tea came, \\li.-n
a x-rviint came up.
"Please, sir, Mr. Jones has called, and he says he must see
vou at once."
" Oh, bother !" said Tom. "What's the matter now : Ask
him to come up."
Rose went down, and presently Mr. Jones, the manager of
tin-, theatre where Johnson's drama was to be produced on
Monday evening, came in.
kl Sorry to worry you, old fellow," said Jones, "but it's serious.
Everybody who saw the dress-rehearsal last night says the fifth
act will settle the play. You must end it in the fourth."
"What!" yelled Tom, pressing his hands to his splitting
head ; " cut out the last act ? It can't be done. A year has to
elapse between Acts 4 and 5."
" Oh, you can get over that. At any rate, it will have to be
done."
" I won't do it," shrieked Tom ; " I won't. I'd sooner throw
the confounded play in the fire. Why, it's ridiculous. Look
here, Mr. Jones ; I'm the author, and I'm responsible. You'll
either play my play as I've written it, or you won't play it
at all."
Tom had worked himself up into a violent rage, and the
manager tried to calm him.
" Don't be a fool, Johnson," he said ; " think it over and
come down to my house. Smith " that was the leading man;
"will be there, and Robinson " the stage manager;, " and we'll
talk it over quietly. I must go now. I must call on Miss
Bkmk and see if she can play Mary Walters to-morrow night."
" Miss Blank ? Why, Miss Dash is going to play it."
" What, haven't you heard ? She was thrown out of her cab
going home from the rehearsal last night, and won't be able to
play for a month."
Tom groaned and flung himself back on the pillow.
" Everything in the play depends on Mary Walters," he said,
" and you're going to have it played at twelve hours' notice by
a girl who's never seen a line of the part yet."
" What are we to do ?•
" I don't know," groaned Johnson, " I'll come round presently..
I believe this play will drive me mad."
46 THE THEATRE. [/AX. i, 1889.
An hour later Tom was going downstairs growling and groan-
ing to himself, when Rose came out of her boudoir.
" Going out, Tom ? Why, you haven't had your breakfast."
" I can't eat a morsel," said Tom. " I'm done up, Rose.
I wish I'd been at Jericho before I became a dramatic
author."
* * •* #
Monday night came, and Tom, in a state of high fever brought
on by overwork and anxiety and late hours, walked up and
down outside the theatre, trying to sum up courage to go in. He
had cut out the last act ; he had given Miss Blank one hurried
rehearsal ; he had quarrelled with the leading villain, who had
told him before the whole company that the play was rot ; he
had gone home in a vile temper, and made Rose cry her eyes
out ; and now, in a state bordering on delirious fever, he was
awaiting the verdict on a play which had cost him months of
anxious thought, and on which the management had expended
thousands of pounds.
" If it's a failure I'll never write again," groaned Tom.
Just then a man came hurriedly out of the stage door.
" Curtain up yet r " asked Tom, nervously.
u No, sir ; there's something gone wrong with the scene in the
lirst act, and the mechanical change won't work through it. I'm
just going out to see if I can find Mr. . They say it'll be
half an hour before it will be put right."
Tom rushed into the theatre. As he went upon the
stage he could hear the audience stamping and shouting. It
was then five minutes past the time the curtain should have gone
up.
Everybody was bustling about, and there was evidently some-
thing wrong.
" It's all right," said the stage manager, coming up to Tom
and trying to ease his mind. " It's not so bad as we thought.
We'll ring up directly. We can get it right, I daresay, while
the first scene is playing. If not, I must come on and explain
there's been an accident."
Tom groaned and rushed out into the street again. " Oh,
my poor play, my poor play," he cried, "it's damned before
it's begun."
*****
An hour and a half later, Tom, pale, shivering, clutching- his
JAN. i, 1889.]
THE CHIXA j-..i er.
hands together in nervons excitement, crept into the back «>i
the pit. The third act was just beginning. There was a very
powerful scene in this act. Tom had built upon its making a
great impression on the audience.
The villain suddenly appears at a window, and while another
villain is writing a letter, shoots him, and the unfinished l«-u<-r
is left on the table and found by the hero, who rushes in and
reads the plot against his happiness.
The villain has to cautiously open the window. He do«
after struggling with it for five minutes, and making a noise
which could be heard all over the house, but of which the other
villain takes no notice.
" He has not heard me," says the villain.
"He must be jolly deaf then," says a bqy in the gallery, and
the house titters.
The perspiration bursts from every pore of Tom's skin. His
situation is going wrong.
But the house is hushed immediately. There is no fairer
audience in the world than that which assembles in a London
theatre on the first night.
But it is only a human audience, and so when, as the villain
crept in at the window and was just advancing on his victim, the
48 THE THEATRE. UAX. i, 1889.
looking-glass, real, fastened on the scene, came down with a
crash, and the victim, following his author, exclaimed, "No
sound disturbs the silence of the night," there was a roar.
The situation was going fast. It went utterly when the
villain, disconcerted, as well he might be, in creeping up behind
the victim's chair caught his foot against a platform ^intended
to draw the table off for a change of scene, and fell sprawling,
his pistol going off between his unconscious victim's feet.
With the roars of irresistible laughter which followed this
final catastrophe ringing in his ears, Tom Johnson rushed from
the theatre to the Thames Embankment.
" It is ruin. It is disgrace," he, cried. " I can never survive
it. Curse the hour when I gave myself up to this life of con-
stant harass, annoyance, and disappointment ! How can I read
the awful things that will be said of me in the papers to-morrow !
How can I meet my friends and listen to their condolences !
How can I ever enter a theatre again ! No, I will not live to
die in a lunatic asylum. I will end it all in the peaceful river."
Tom leapt upon the parapet and was about to make the fatal
plunge, when he heard a sweet silvery voice behind him.
It was the China Fairy's.
MR. SIMS REEVES.
He coude songe? make, and well enditc. '
GEOFFREY
KKOM A PHOTOGRAPH SfECIALLY TAKEN FOR " THF THEATRE
BY BARRAUD, LONDON AND LIVERPOOL.
JAN. i, 1889.] Till: ( ' 1 1 1 \\ I FA /A' J '.
49
With a frantic cry Tom turned to her. " Can \<.u
me another wish r " he exclaimed.
" Certainly."
" Then make me a clerk in the City again, and at once."
* * * *
" Tom."
It was Rose's voice.
Tom woke up with a start.
" Breakfast's ready, dear, and it's nine o'clock. Aren't you
going to get up ? "
Tom shouted for joy. He was a clerk again, and it wa^
Sunday morning, the happy day of peace and rest at home
with his dear contented little wife.
Oh ! what a happy Sunday it was. How snug and comfort-
able the little sitting-room looked. And after breakfast, when
he sat down and read in the Sunday paper an awful " slate " of
Mr. Three Starrs' new play, he felt a great weight lifted from
his heart, and he exclaimed, " Thank heaven I'm not a dramatist,
but only a happy City clerk, with just enough to live on, and
only one master ! " And he never wanted to be a dramatist
again as long as he lived.
The series of Wednesday matinees arranged by the energetic lessee of
the Haymarket commenced on December 5 with the revival of "Masks
and Faces," that excellent comedy by Charles Reade and Tom Taylor.
Of Mrs. Bernard-Beere's performance as Peg Woffington there is no
occasion to speak, this talented actress having made the role for a lonj;
time almost her own. Mr. Beerbohm Tree appeared for the first time
as Triplet, and won golden opinions. As is usual with Mr. Tree on his
assuming a fresh character, he was nervous, and this may have accounted
for his giving us less of the humour of the unfortunate but kindly and
gentle poet, dramatist, and painter. On his playing the part a second time,
on the 1 2th, there was much more lightness, and it was a remarkably fine
and intellectual performance. Mrs. Tree was a most charming Mabel
Vane, so true and tender, and Mr. Macklin was very good as Ernest Vane.
Mr. Charles Brookfield was rather too courtly a Sir Charles Pomander.
That sound old actor Mr. Vollaire was excellent as Colley Cibber, and
Miss Aubrey was a handsome jealous Kitty Clive. The Quin of Mr.
Charles Allan, and Soaper of Mr. F. Harrison, left nothing to be dtsired,
but Mr. Kemble emphas^ed the venom of Snarl rather strongly.
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. E
THE THEATRE.
[JAN. I, I889.
Kittle Southwell's Conspiracy.
BY HOWARD PAUL.
H E fair sex
from time
immemorial
has been
accused of
quite mono-
polising that compound
of love and hate, of
folly and fury — that
Lear of passions, the
weak mad dupe of his
own creations — Jea-
lousy. On behalf of
the charming sister-
hood I fling back the
charge on their accu-
sers, for the lordly sex
it is who as often yield to the " green-eyed monster " loyal and
ready obedience. If you doubt the truth of this position glance
at the following historiette.
A bright little creature was Kittie Southwell — a charming,
beautiful riddle. She was a blonde, with a mild, tender, Lucy-
Ashton-ish sort of face, and was so winsome and attractive, I
would defy flesh and blood to withstand. And yet this angel
in form and feature was really as dashing, daring, care-for-
nought a will-o'-the-wisp as ever took heart by stratagem or
carried it by storm. She was politic, however, seldom showing
both sides of her character to the same persons. Her teachers
praised her as a pattern of studiousness, while her girl friends
adored her as the incarnation of fun and frolic, who led them
into the merriest escapades and as triumphantly brought them
out.
JAN. i, i889.] K'/TTfE SOUTJJ \ I '/•/, //.V CONSPIRACY. 5I
On leaving school at Clifton, Kittie spent a few months with
a friend in London, where she met her destiny. Desiring to
have her portrait painted, a young artist of promise was selected
by her friends. She found him quite her idea of a votary of his
art ; his lightest words, the tones of his voice, disclosed an
ardent temperament, and when he conversed, wit, logic, and
fire were welded together in glowing periods. Taken for all
in all, he was a man destined to make his mark in the world.
Kittie soon saw, by woman's marvellous intuition, that Mr.
John Richmond was in love, and with her own sweet self, but
she was a well-disciplined girl, and watched over her heart. She
liked the young artist passing well, and thought him clever, but
in regarding his character she had one fear. It was, that his
devotion to painting arose not from a sincere love for art, but
from an overweening personal ambition, that passion which the
world has christened with a glorious name, but which is fre-
quently but an intense and concentrated egoism. So she did
not yield to woman's amiable weakness and love because
she was beloved ; did not let gratitude lead her blindfold to the
altar. I know I should put on gloves while handling this dear
pet fault of the sex. But, my dear girls, pray bring your every-
day tenderness, your patient, fond, self-sacrificing love, and
then place man's holiday admiration, his exacting, doubting
affection, in the opposite scale, and see in what hurricane
haste they will go up. Thank a man for reading you his latest
essay, for writing an acrostic on your name, for saying you
are surprisingly like the photos of a reigning beauty, but never
for the honour of his preference. Be grateful to him for the
offer of his mouchoir to hem, or his gloves to mend, but never for
that of his heart and hand. In love matters, fling away gratitude,
it is but a charity-girl sort of a virtue at the best.
It was, finally, in no hour of triumph that Kittie Southwell
felt all the sweet waters of her heart gushing tumultuously
toward him who loved her. She had accompanied him to a
picture-gallery, where a painting on which he had expended
much thought was being exhibited. There was present an
artist of distinction, who, passing before Richmond's picture,
bestowed upon it a compliment and then criticised it with
severity. Kittie attentively watched the face of her lover-
flushes passed over his brow, but he silently drank in every word
52 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
uttered by his critic. When the ordeal was over, Richmond
left her side, approached the artist, introduced himself,
and expressed his gratitude for the valuable, though painful
lesson. Kittie was not given to weeping, but when her lover
rejoined her she was in tears, and she pledged him her dear
little hand that very night.
Kittie left for home soon after. I saw, almost as soon as we
met, that she loved — that woman's destiny had floated out of
heaven and hung over her life, a cloud of purple and gold.
You should have seen their letters ; they were tender, delicate,
impassioned. There was one thing I observed — Kittie had
evidently not shown her lover the rpmpish, playful side of her
character. Woman, when first in love, seldom deals in persiflage.
She really makes a serious matter of that which is, at best, but
a " divine comedy/'
A few months of the engagement had passed, when a sister of
Richmond's visited London. He had not seen her for some
years ; meanwhile she had danced up from childhood, and was
now just poising herself on the threshold of seventeen, a spirited,
beautiful brunette. Richmond tried in vain to tame her ; she
would play pranks, in her " airy fairy way," and her mentor
ended at last by falling in with her blithesome moods.
Richmond had never written to Kittie of his sister Marie, but
he told the latter all about Kittie. He enlarged much on the
confidence of his lady-love. " Don't you think it strange,"
he remarked, " that she never expresses a doubt of my fidelity,
though she knows that I meet hosts of charming girls who
would not care to look farther than — the brother of so fine a
girl as you, Marie?" "Ah, but has that modest brother of
mine ever intimated to her his knowledge of those dangerous
sirens?" "No, Marie." "Then she has not had cause for distrust;
give her a peg to hang a doubt upon, and she'll promptly do so —
all girls are alike." Just then she caught a glimpse of her radiant
face in the glass opposite, and, clapping her hands, cried out,
" I have it ! You say she does not know you have a sister.
Well, write her a description of me ! Don't go so far as to
pretend you are in love, but tell her all about the jolly life we
live as master and pupil ; and if she doesn't exhibit jealousy —
if your angel don't show the woman, I'll— be a pink of propriety
for a whole fortnight ! "
JAN. i, i889.] AY 7V//: SOL '///// 7:7. //.S' CONSPIRACY. 53
And so they put their wicked heads tog-other, and the next
post bore Kittie Southwell fhe following from her faithful
lover : —
"Dearest Kittie, — Your sweet letter has looked me reproachfully
in the face for some days. I have no excuse to offer for my silence
that will satisfy myself, and so it might not you. But you will
find one for me in your heart, will you not, dearest ? I have to
tell you of a charming pupil of mine, first premising that you
must not be jealous ; there is nothing in the world so disagree-
able as a jealous woman. You really should see * our Marie,'
for so every one calls her. She is the most amusing little
melange you can imagine of the artless impulses and untamed
spirits of the child, and the budding affection and harmless
coquetries of the girl. I believe she has sentiment, and I know
she has feeling ; but her dominant spirit is mirth. Her
presence is the soul of joyousness ; she dances as though her
feet had unseen wings. And then her laugh — it is the silvery
gush of gladness. Her face is classical in its contour, and her
eyes, one moment, you would declare, were of the softest hazel,
and the next, as black as night. As to her manner, she has, it
must be confessed, a little too much naivete. But she is young
and has never known a sorrow. I regard her innocent breaches
of decorum with leniency. For instance, while giving her a
lesson this morning, she said with a smile, * I did not
think I should like you half so well when I first saw you. I
find we are strangely sympathetic.' Kittie, I really felt called
upon to kiss her hand. She only laughed, dearest. I
don't believe she thinks seriously of me, for she knows I have
only a moderate income, and her face should win her a
fortune.
" Marie is teaching me waltzing. I know you will be pleased
to hear I am making progress in this accomplishment. Were
you a silly girl, now, I should fear your pouting over this, but
I always fancy you my partner — that it is your dear form I am
whirling about in the delirium of the waltz.
"I have never told her of our engagement. I fear the
madcap could not keep it to herself, and love is something far
too delicate to be chattered about hither and thither.
" Forgive my short letter ; Marie is waiting for me to accom-
pany her to a concert. There is nothing in which I have greater
54 THE THEATRE [JAN. i, 1889.
faith than in your faith and goodness ; they constitute a little
Paradise, of which I am the sole owner. Adieu, love. "R."
KITTIE SOUTHWELL'S REPLY.
" Dear Jack, — I was delighted with your letter. It disclosed
a remarkable coincidence. But I must explain. Well, there
lately arrived at Sweetbriar Cottage, Lieutenant Mortimer Lacy,
who is in the Lancers, my own cousin, and a splendid fellow
too. He has such a faultless form and face, and so imposing an
air ; andpiis uniform is so becoming ! and he is so tall — I wish all
men were tall ; it is certainly more natural to look up to them.
I wish all men were soldiers too ; for uniforms are so effective
in a ballroom. I agree with you that ' there is nothing in the
world so disagreeable as jealousy/ Some people think it
shocking for me to waltz with Mortimer, but I smile at their
old-fashioned notions and away we whirl !
"Mortimer is a splendid horseman, and we have delightful
rides together. You were always so fearful my horse would run
away with me, that it really made a pain of a pleasure. Now
cousin pays me the compliment of trusting to my horsemanship,
and allows me even to venture on the most daring exploits.
" Mortimer is rich, and says that after he becomes a general
he shall retire and spend his life enjoying his otium cum
dignitate. That sounds like Latin, and means, I suppose, a house
in town, box at the opera, travelling and giving dinners and
fetes. He will be in London in August, and if you call on him,
and make yourself agreeable, he may prove a patron, though he
has little taste for the fine arts. I hope you will paint his portrait
in uniform for us. I believe with you in the sacredness of love.
I keep our engagement a secret. There is not to me a more
ridiculous figure than an engaged young lady in the absence of
her lover. She sits in company with dreamy eyes, puts on a
lady-abbess look of shocked propriety when asked to waltz, and
shrinks like a sensitive plant from the innocent kiss of a brother
or cousin. I believe my manners have been free from this
school-girlish silliness ; for to tell the truth, the gallant
lieutenant has already laid siege to my heart with impetuosity.
I know you will be proud to hear your betrothed has made so
formidable a conquest.
" The horses are at the door, and now for a gallop over the
JAN. ifi889.] KITTIE SOUTHWELLS CONSPIRACY, ss
70 ~"
downs ! Good-bye, dear Jack ; I send you a shower of kisses.
Your loving " KlTTlE."
A tolerable idea of a mental chaos had Mr. Jack Richmond
on reading this epistle,. He smiled, but it was " a ghastly
smile." In vain he tried to believe Kittie in jest ; jealousy
obscured his perceptions with a thick green cloud. Marie was
going out for the evening, but he called her back and handed
her the letter. She laughed over it, and gave it as her opinion
that his sweetheart was a sensible girl that knew how to take
and give a joke ; and left him with the sisterly advice not to
make a fool of himself in his reply. How he profited by it the
following will show : —
" Dearest Kittie, — How could you write so terrible a letter r
Mine was a jest. Marie is my sister. But your letter cannot be
mere pleasantry ; beneath the sparkling foam is an undercurrent
of deep meaning. It is as if you are lost to me for ever. You
must have seen that my letter was a jest, but were too happy
of an opportunity to break those ties which to you are irksome,
but which bind me to life ; those vows, plighted beneath the
eternal stars, Kittie ! I would come to you, but I dare not ; the
place by your side is occupied by another. But three short
months have passed since, in a delirium of rapture, I first called
you mine ; and now, in an agony of hopeless love, I write>
you are free !
" Oh ! my heart is crushed, and my brain whirls ! I fear I
am ill. Yet do not let that give you unhappiness. May love
and joy and peace enfold you. " J. R."
He wrote the above in absolute earnest, and in due time
leceived the following: —
" My Dear Jack, — What a < Comedy of Errors ' we have
been enacting. There was but this difference— you wrote in a
lover-like way of your sister, while I was romancing altogether !
I have no cousin Mortimer, but I manufactured him, regimentals
and all, out of my own brain. I accepted your letter as a hoax,
and merely thought to give you a Roland for your Oliver. So
you see, dear, you have wasted an immense amount of Romeo-ish
anguish and despair. Nor is that the worst feature of your case.
56 THE THEATRE. UAN. i, 1869.
You have doubted me ! In a rash mood you have flung back my
plighted faith as a thing of little worth. Now, indeed, is an
opportunity to display the inborn dignity of woman by proudly
accepting the freedom you offer. But alas ! there is an obstacle
in the way. It happens, unfortunately, that — / love you ; that
it has become quite a habit with me to think of you, and I am
not tragedy queen enough to punish myself in being revenged
on you. Come to us and bring 'our Marie ;' I am impatient to
meet her, and to have a good jolly laugh over our romance of
folly. Now and ever thine, " KITTIE."
There, patient reader ! Who was. the jealous one on this
occasion ?
The Christmas Hymn.
BY CLEMENT SCOTT.
?AVED by a Christmas Hymn! 'Tis a tale I can
never forget
Though I was alone in the world; and she was a
stranger as yet.
Saved by the Angels' Song ! embodied in quaint old
rhyme,
That rises up to the throne of God at the holy Christmas time.
Saved from the taint of the world, that tears can never efface,
Planted firm in the fold of faith, and given the gift of grace.
And how did it happen ? and what did she do ? and how did
it chance to be
That she left me here still wandering on : while she till eternity
Will sing the same everlasting song, till age itself grows dim r
I'll tell you straight how the woman I loved was saved by a
Chistmas Hymn !
JAN. i, 1889.1 THE C&RjSTMAS HYMN. s;
I was a lad and she was a girl in the old cathedral town,
Whose spire points up to the' blue of Heaven in the vale of a
Wiltshire down ;
And somehow or other a voice to sing, a voice to pierce and rv
Was given to lighten the heart of men, and gladden the
passers-by.
And they flocked to the choir at Christmas time, forgetting -ill
hate and wrong,
To hear the voice of the chorister -boy, and the sob of the
Christmas song.
But the girl, who dreamed of the angels then, sat away in the
aisle apart,
As the song of Adeste, charged with love, was carried from lips
to heart.
And she mused, though little he thought of her, and little she
dreamed of him,
" I shall hear that voice till the end of time, and be saved by
that Christmas Hymn ! "
So the voice and the spirit parted ! and apart they drifted away,
Far off from the aisles and the organ, and the life where sun-
shine lay,
Away from the old cathedral, the close and the cloister sod,
Where the boy sang the songs of the angels : and the maiden
dreamed of God !
Away to the cruel city, to the stones where the pilgrim feet
Are stained with the sins of ages, are bruised in the hurrying
street.
Away to the fierce temptation, that to whitest of garments clings,
That hardens the heart that is praying, and hushes the voice
that sings.
To the mighty ! awful city ! its terror, its death-bell toll,
Where Sirens sigh for the spirit ! and Demons fight for the
soul!
So the lily was crushed in the blossom, and the scent of the rose
had fled,
The heart that had trusted broken ; the hope that endured lay
dead.
Only a lonely woman, who was lost in the crush and the crowd,
It was only a plaything broken, it was only a fair head bowed !
58 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
Merely one helpless creature with a bold man ridden away ;
Simply a sad-eyed sister who was left by the side of the way !
Nothing before but danger, and little behind but regret ;
Was there one in the world to help her ? was there one who
could save her yet r
Was there one little drop more sorrow to fill the cup to the
brim ?
Well ! the door of a church was open, where they chanted the
Christmas Hymn.
Was it Fate or Despair that led them that lonely Christmas
night
To think once again of the angels, and to live once more in the
light ?
For he had been wandering also, and his heart was heavy as
lead,
Forgotten the grace once granted ; the faith that existed dead !
Just a touch — then she turned and saw him and followed him
softly there
To the altar long neglected, to the lamp in God's house of
prayer.
Was there ever a Christmas welcome by prodigal surer felt,
Than the hope sent down by angels as the suppliants humbly
knelt ?
For the Angel Host rejoices as to Heaven on incense rolls
The Cry of Repentant Sinners ! the Joy of the Pardoned Souls \
JAN. ,, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 59
©ur
"TROUBLES'
Comedy in one act, by B. W.
First produced at St. George's Hall, Thursday evening, November 22, 1888.
Aunt Deborah .. .. Miss LIZZIE HENDERSON.
May Kingsford .. .. Mrs. B. \V. FI.MMI.N.
Servant Miss KATE OVBRTON.
Arthur Kingsforth .. Mr. J. 15. WlLLOUGHBT.
Isaacs Mr. J. E. ROGERS.
.ttneas Jones .. .. Mr. B. OODDARD.
Tom Sellen Mr. R. ASLET.
This very brightly-written little piece was played by the Fore Street
Elocutionary Society, a body of amateurs that includes amongst its
members some few possessing great talent. In " Troubles '' is told the
simple story of Arthur Kingsforth, a barrister, who, having Utopian ideas
on politics, neglects his profession, and gets involved in debt through
befriending working men's political clubs. His continued absences from
home and his money troubles, which make him irritable, rather estrange
his wife from him until the crash comes, and Isaacs, a Jew money-lender,
is likely to take all their belongings for cash advanced on a bill of sale.
Aunt Deborah, who, outwardly a stern, uncompromising, and outspoken
female, has been looked upon as possessing no more heart than a mile-
stone, comes to their rescue. Under a rough exterior she proves to be a
genuinely kind old creature ; she clears her nephew of his liabilities in the
most generous manner, and discomfits Isaacs by recognising him as the
forger of a cheque which she holds.
Aunt Deborah was capitally played by Miss Lizzie Henderson ; Mrs.
B. W. Findon was sympathetic as May Kingsford, and Mr. J. E. Rogers
was clever, if somewhat of the conventional type of stage Jew.
" Ours," played on the same night, was fairly acted all round. Mrs.
Findon specially distinguished herself as Mary Netley, and Mr. J. E. Rogers
as Sergeant Jones. Miss R. G. Le Thiere rendered good assistance as Lady
Shendryn, and Miss Edith Cole was a handsome winning Blanche Have.
Messrs W. Major, J. B. Willoughby, and H. L. Attrill aided in the success
of the evening. The stage management was very good.
"THE ALDERMAN."
Modern Comedy in three acts, adapted from the French of MM. BARRIERE and CAPENDU'S
"L'Heritage de M. Plnmet," by JAMES MORTIMER.
First produced in an evening bill at the Jodrell Theatre, Saturday, November 24, 1888.
Alderman Joseph i Mr. France .. . Mr. FRANK WORTHING.
Peach
Jack Peach ..
Edward Morgan
Ernest Godwin
Captain Dolman
Captain Manning
Mr. George ..
Mr. HENRY ASHLEY. | Cutts . .
Mr. ROYCE CAKLETON. Eleanor Dolman
Mr. COMPTON COUTTS. Maud Godwin
Mr. SIDNEY HARCOURT. Amy Morgan . .
Mr. W. H. PENNINGTON. Betty . .
Mr. F. KEIGHLEY.
MissGABRIKLLK GOLDNKY.
Miss LILIAN MILLWARD.
Miss ANXIK WHITK.
Miss NITA WTNN.
Mr. MARK KINGHORNE. Gertrude Temple . . Miss NELLIE LINGARD.
Mr. E. M. ROBSON.
Had the cast of " The Alderman " been the same on its first production
on the afternoon of April 29 of last year at the Criterion Theatre as it was
6o T/fE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
on its reproduction here, the probability is that the play, though possessing
very considerable merit, would have been heard of no more. But at the
matinee the author had the valuable aid of Mr. George Barrett in the title-
rftle, the perfect acting of Messrs. Brandon Thomas and Julian Cross as
the two old Crimean heroes was specially praised, and Miss Lydia
Cowell, Mrs. C. L. Carson, and Miss Minnie Bell were also excellent.
On Saturday, whether it arose from nervousness or insufficient rehearsal,
Mr. Henry Ashley, who has hitherto earned a reputation by his quiet
humour, was, as the alderman, who is so vacillating and easily led, and thus
becomes the victim for a time of designing relatives, a poor, weak creature,
whose troubles only excite contempt, and certainly afford but little amuse-
ment. Mr. Pennington altogether missed a fine opportunity as Captain
Dolman, though Mr. Mark Kinghorne did some good work as Captain
Manning. The only actor who really imparted life to the performance
was Mr. Royce Carleton, who fairly lifted the piece whenever he appeared.
Of the ladies, Miss Gabrielle Goldney looked handsome and played with
quiet grace. Miss Nellie Lingard was vivacious and amusing, though not
quite what Gertrude Temple originally appeared to be — a warm-hearted,
ingenuous girl — but no doubt the young lady acted according to her
instructions. Mr. Paul M. Berton was the stage-manager.
"A WHITE LIE."
Comedy in one act, adapted by JAMES MORTIMER from the French of M. H. MEILHAC.
First produced at the Jodrell Theatre, Saturday, November 24, 1888.
Sir Geoffrey Grandison Mr. W. H. PENNINGTON. I Rose Miss LILIAN MILL WARD.
Herbert Grandison . . Mr. JOHN TRESAHAR. | Mrs. Miller Mrs. EDMUND PHELPS.
Mr. Mortimer had compassed an excellent adaptation of " L'Ete de St.
Martin," but was unfortunate in the interpreter of the principal cha-
racter. Sir Geoffrey Grandison is so incensed against his relative Herbert
for, as the baronet considers, marrying beneath him, that he forbids him
his house. Rose, the reputed niece of Mrs. Miller, the housekeeper, pays
a lengthened visit to her supposed aunt, and makes herself so indispensable
to Sir Geoffrey by humouring his every wish that he fairly falls in love
with, and proposes to, Rose, and then learns that she is the daughter of
the plebeian " shirtmaker," who has captivated his nephew. Needless to
say that his prejudices are overcome, and that the young people are for-
given.
The dialogue was charming, and the characters of Sir Geoffrey and
Rose excellently drawn ; but Mr. Pennington, who unfortunately should
form the centre figure of the picture, took a completely wrong view of the
part. Miss Lilian Millward was more successful as Rose, and Mrs.
Edmund Phelps thoroughly good as Mrs. Miller.
JAN. i, 1889]
OUR PLAY-BOX.
Ci
"THE WIDOW WINSOME."
Original Play, in three acts, by AI.KKED C.
First produced, at the < 'i ii. Ti..i, Theatre, Tuesday afternoon, Novrml.t-i
Frank lUiindish . .
Captain Dearlove.. ..
Major Furness . .
Roland Harefleld . .
Jeremy Sowerby, J.P. ..
Peaceborn
Geoffrey Goshawke . .
Mr. 11. H. (ON WAY.
Mr. CM: 11. MAI in-:.
Mr. .h'llVsTi'NK.
Mr. n.MiT.tx ColTTS.
Mr. WIU.IAM FAKKKN.
Mr. I-'KCI. TiU'iiNK.
Mr. <;KI>U<;K (.II>I>K.NS.
hoi-tor
hnn.thra
Lady Priscilla< Joshawke
Betty
l.a.ly Lightfoot .. ..
Mr. .1. I;I:AHAMI -i i i
Mi-- K \ 1 1. K"I;KK.
i i.i [)] Kr...-
roir.
Misa LAI i: A l.isi'Kv
Miss FANN\ r
BOH.
It is much to be regretted that Mr. Calmour's latest production will in
no way bear favourable comparison with either his " Cupid's Messenger "
or his "Amber Heart." In "The Widow Winsome " we have a Sir Peter
Teazle and a Tom Jones, a Lady Booby and Sophia, a Narcisse Rameau
and Mistress Honor, but unfortunately none of these characters under ne\v
names are anything like so strongly drawn as the originals, and, though
some cf the dialogue is good, it is not what might have been expected
from Mr. Calmour.
Jeremy Sowerby is a choleric old gentleman who will not listen to his
daughter Dorothea's love for handsome Frank Blandish, and so shuts his
doors against the young fellow, and induces the girl to marry Winsome, a
rich old man. Blandish, never too steady, turns reckless ; he drinks and
gambles and flirts, and becomes the favourite of all the women, more
especially of Lady Goshawke, who offers him her hand, which he refuses.
In the hope of winning him, she has spread the evil reports which have
been the principal cause of his separation from Dorothea. After two years
Widow Winsome is at Bath ; there Captain Dearlove, a bashful admirer of
hers, persuades Blandish to plead his cause for him, which the latter
consents to do, not knowing that the widow is his former flame. Imme-
diately on recognising her he feels the awkwardness of his position, and
so, under the pretence of wishing for a sequel to a play he is writing, he
asks her to decide whether his supposed hero should listen to the dictates
of his heart or behave honourably to his friend. Dorothea counsels that he
should declare his own love, and so he does, and in the moment of their
reconciliation Dearlove comes upon them. He challenges Blandish, and
in the duel is disarmed, when Dorothea rushes on as in "Through my
Heart First," and — as all the characters have, under some pretext or other,
been brought to Bramley Copse, the scene of the encounter — Lady
Goshawke asserts that Blandish has promised her marriage, when a half-
crazed flute-player, known as Franks, who has maundered through the
preceding scenes a la Narcisse Rameau, confronts her, and proves to be a
husband whom she supposed to be dead, but whom she had driven out of
his wits by her conduct. Her maid Betty, who has coquetted with the old
servant, Peaceborn, throws him over in favour of Roland Harefield, a
discarded lover of her mistress's, and Sowerby is accepted by Lady
Lightfoot, a giddy, gushing thing of forty.
The first act appeared the strongest, irom the powerful and sympathetic
acting of Mibs Kate Rorke, to whom the author owed much, indeed
throughout. Mr. H. B. Con way appeared to strive hard, but evidently
THE THEATRE.
[JAN. i, 1889.
found the material at his command not sufficienly good to call forth his
greatest powers — his character was unreal. Mr. William Farren certainly
did not do all he might as the irascible Jeremy Sowerby, and seemed to
be very imperfect in his words; and Mr. George Giddens attacked the
character of Geoffrey Goshawke in but a half-hearted manner, as though
hardly knowing whether it was intended for a pathetic or a comic one.
Miss Gertrude Kingston, had she been a little less hard, would have reached
very near to perfection as the loving, yet vindictive, Lady Goshawke ; as it
was, it was a very fine performance indeed.
The piece was very handsomely mounted, the costumes, by Nathan,
being much admired for their richness and taste. The author was "called"
at the close of the performance.
"BRANTINGHAME HALL.'
New and Original Drama,
First produced at the St. James's
in four acts, by W. S. GILBERT.
Theatre, Thursday, November 29, 1888.
Lady Saxmundham
Mabel Thnrsby ..
Ruth Redmayne . .
Lord Saxmundham
Hon. Arthur Red-
mayne
Hon. Alaric Red-
mayne
Rev. Noel Ross . .
Mr. Parflt . .
Mrs. GASTON MURRAY.
Miss NORREYS.
Miss JULIA NEILSON.
Mr. NUTCOMBE GOULD.
Mr. WILLIAM HERBERT.
Mr. DUNCAN FLEET.
Mr. NORMAN FORBES.
Mr. GILBERT TRENT.
Mr. Paulby . .
Dick Somers. . ..
Johnoy Barker . .
Bill Crump . .
Smithers . . .
Blueby
Servant toThursby
Ralph Crampton . .
Mr. Thursby
Mr. M. NEWALL.
Mr. CHARLES DODSWORTH.
Mr. NICOL PENTLAND.
Mr. MONTAGU.
Mr. SYDENHAM DIXON.
Mr. FRANK LACY.
Mr. WARDEN.
Mr. LEWIS WALLER.
Mr. RUTLAND BARRINGTON.
To any one accustomed to judge of the verdict passed upon a new play
it must have been evident that by the majority of the audience a feeling
of keenest regret and disappointment was
experienced when the curtain fell on
" Brantinghame Hall." Mr. Gilbert has
made for himself so great a name that no
doubt in this, another serious work, much
was expected of him ; but he appears to
have been unable to divest him-
self of that spirit of topsy-turvy-
dom which afforded so much
pleasure and amusement in his
operas, but which in his latest
play has given us an impossible
character. His heroine, Ruth
• iv-w -V4-S Redmayne, the daughter of a
convict, and brought up on a
station in Australia, where, as a rule, stockmen are not too mealy-
mouthed, is all that is good and beautiful and refined, and her language is
that of the Puritans. Despite her irritating demureness of speech, she has
gained the affections of two men — one the Hon. Arthur Redmayne, to
whom she is married, the other Ralph Crampton, who, not knowing she is
already a wife, urges his suit upon her. This is the more offensive to her,
as she has learnt that he is already a husband, though he has -reason to
JAN. i, 1889.] OUR ££ AY-BOX. 63
believe that he has been divorced from the abandoned woman who bears
his name. The Hon. Arthur is naturally incensed at the insult offered to
his wife, the men quarrel, and Crampton vows revenge. News arrives that
Ruth's husband has inherited great wealth from his godfather, and that he
must repair to England at once ; his father-in-law is lying dangerously ill,
and Ruth will not leave him, and so, only three weeks married, husband
and wife part. Between the first and second acts an interval of eighteen
months is supposed to have elapsed. We are transported to Brantinghame
Hall, where Lord Saxmundham has been in the greatest pecuniary
difficulties, the heaviest of these being a mortgage which Crampton holds
over the property, and which he is about ta foreclose. But all the old
Lord's troubles appear to be over, for nothing has been heard of his son,
Arthur Redmayne, whose ship has been lost at sea, and Lord Saxmundham
is consequently his heir. Just when he is congratulating himself on this
stroke of good fortune arrives Ruth Redmayne, with her marriage certi-
ficate and her late husband's will, by which she inherits everything. His
lordship, having heard nothing of the marriage, inexpressibly shocked to
learn that his daughter-in-law is descended from a convict, refuses all aid
from her, or from his friends, or old family solicitor, all of whom offer to
advance the amount due. Crampton, however, says that he would not
allow the mortgage to be transferred to Ruth, but points out a means by
which Lord Saxmundham shall be freed. He offers himself again to Ruth.
This seems to goad her to a sudden resolve. In an instant this woman,
who is so pure, who has expressed such love for her dead husband,
proceeds at once to dishonour his memory by stating that she was only his
mistress ; that she has forged the documents that she has brought with
her; in fact, that she is everything that is bad. How is it possible to
reconcile this with the character of a woman whose first thought, when
her husband is given up to her as from the dead, is to offer up a prayer
of thanksgiving to Heaven? for it was when rendering this on her knees
that the curtain finally descended, though thefina/e has since been al'ere^.
In the first love scene between an Eton boy and his little girl sweetheart
Mr. Gilbert has given us some of his best work, though even these two
characters he has caricatured in their second scene. These two parts, by
the way, were excellently played by Miss Norreys and Mr. Duncan Fleet.
Miss Julia Neilson ga/e one the impression of having been over-schooled ;
she was mechanical, and it was only when she had apparently forgotten her
lesson, and was her natural self, that this beautiful and sweet-voiced actress
showed of what she was capable. Mr. Nutcombe Gould played with dignity
and feeling as the aristocratic but obstinate old peer, and Mrs. Gaston
Murray was a true and tender wife. Mr. William Herbert was manly and
warm-hearted as Arthur Redmayne, and Mr. Norman Forbes drew a clever
and original sketch of the missionary, the Rev Noel Ro.-s ; he and Miss
Neilson were excellent in their one special scene in the third act. Seldom
has a young actor so completely satisfied every demand made upon him
as did Mr. Lewis Waller. His was a vindictive, revengeful character as
64 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
Ralph Crampton, but with the germs of good lying dormant, and most
thoroughly did he convey this ; his hatred and passion were never
boisterous, but were none the less intense, and there was a touch of deep
pathos when "he repented him of the evil" he had done. Mr, Rutland
Barrington had to fill the role of a good-natured, soft-hearted country
gentleman, and by his ease and bonhomie brightened up some occasions that
were inclined to be too sombre. In " Brantinghame Hall " there were some
admirable dialogue, strongly-marked individuality, and flashes of that
humour of which Mr. Gilbert is so thorough and original a master, but his
principal character is artificial and unreal, and has spoilt his play.
"THE DEPUTY REGISTRAR."
Farcical Comedy, in three acts, by RALPH LUMLEY and HORACE SEIKJKK.
First produced at a iiMtinte at the Criterion Theatre, Friday December 7, 1888.
Simkinson .. .. Mr. ALFRKI> MALTBY.
The Eiirl of Stoke-
Mr. HENRY ASHLEY.
( '( pi-nelius O'Brady Mr. W. H. DENNY.
Augustus Deakin.. Mr. C. BURLEIGH.
raptidn Drawley .. Mr. R. P. SHONE.
nimble ...... Mr. W. LUGG.
Parkin* ... . Mr. ROBERT COURTNEIDGE.
Dobster . . ,
Chibling ..
Mrs. Turbury
Frederica..
Cecilia . .
Gertrude ..
Jane . .
Stella Filbeam
Mr. STEPHEN CAFFREY.
Mr. ALBERT SIMS.
Miss HELEN KINNAIRD.
Miss HELEN FERRERS.
Miss T. ROMA.
Miss VIOLET VANBRUGH.
Miss MAUD GRAVES.
Miss A. HUGHES.
There was much that was laughable in " The Deputy Registrar," and
some really clever writing, but the authors complicated their plot too much,
and spun it out to three acts, making the third one as noisy as it was super-
fluous. Still the idea with which they originally started is a sufficiently good
one not to be lost sight of, and can be well utilised in re-arranging a play
which in its present form is scarcely acceptable. The Earl of Stokepole is
an impecunious nobleman with three grown-up daughters, and who is in
correspondence with a rich widow, Mrs. Turbury, with a view to marriage.
Staying ia the same hotel as the Earl is Cornelius O'Brady, a wild Irishman,
who is corresponding through a matrimonial paper with Stella Pilbeam, a
school girl. The Earl gives the Irishman a ticket for a ball, which O'Brady
attends, using the nobleman's name ; there he gets into a quarrel with
Captain Drawley, and will have to fight or take a horse-whipping. Rather
than undergo the risk of either or apologise, the Earl consents to O'Brady
retaining his fictitious character for some hours. In the meantime
the widow, who is a strong-minded woman, arrives, is introduced to O'Brady
as her future lord, and with the help of the "Deputy Registrar" carries him
off and marries him nolens volens. She refuses to believe his protestations
that he is not the nobleman, as the marriage certificate in the Earl of
Stokepole's name is found in the pocket of the coat which O'Brady is
wearing, and which is the Earl's property. The energetic "Deputy
Registrar" fetches Stella Pilbeam from school, and, as she has never seen
her correspondent, she is led to believe that the Earl is her admirer, and
he, a poor weak creature with no memory to speak of, allows himself to
be married to her. Stella Pilbeam has a boyish lover in Augustus Deakin ; he,
out of mischief, has been using the "Matrimonial Journal," and has received
a reply from Frederica, the Earl's eldest daughter, who writes him that she
JAN. i, 1889.] OUR^PLAY-BOX. 65
may be recognised by her wearing daffodils, and that he is to do the same.
So when the " Deputy Registrar, "^vho has partaken too freely of every wine
he can get hold of at the double wedding breakfast, has some daffodils
stuck in his coat, -Frederica takes him for her admirer, and matters are
further complicated by the fact that Stella is a ward in Chancery, and that
the tipstaff takes the newly made husband into custody for contempt of
court. The imbroglio is cleared up by the fact that the term for which the
"Deputy Registrar" was appointed expired the day before he joined the
respective parties together, and therefore the marriages were illegal ; in
support of which the authors on the programme quoted two Acts of Parlia-
ment. The honours of the afternoon fell to Mr. Alfred Maltby, who was
most amusing in the title-;^7<?, but Mr. Henry Ashley lacked humour, and
Mr. Denny was too noisy and boisterous. Miss Helen Kmnaird entered
into the spirit of the rather overdrawn character of Mrs. Turbury, and Miss
Annie Hughes was fresh and bright as the almost childish boarding school
miss. The characters of the Earl's daughters were well represented.
"THE DUCHESS OF BAYSWATER AND CO.'
New Comedietta, by M. A. HKATHCOTE.
Produced for the flrst time at he Haymarket Theatre, December 8, 1888.
The Duke of Bays-
water Mr. CHARLES BROOKFIKLD.
Sir Jeremy Jobs . . Mr. CHARLES ALLAN.
Caryl stubbs . . . . Mr. FREDERICK HARRISON.
Jenkins Mr. ROBB HARWOOD.
The Duchess of
Bayswater . . . . Miss ROSE LECLERCQ.
Kathleen Jobs .. MlBB AHOKLA CUDMOUl
This is an amusing skit on the disposition which members of the
"upper ten" have of late shown to embark in trade. Kathleen Jobs, the
daughter of a gentleman who fancies he is subject to all sorts of illnesses,
has a lover in Caryl Stubbs, but to whom her father objects in consequence
of the paternal Stubbs having made his fortune in tinned meats. The
baronet is something of a tuft-hunter, and when he finds that the Duke of
Bayswater pays attention to Kathleen, think* it will be a capital match for
her, but is soon disillusioned when he discovers that the Duke and his mother
.are universal providers, and push their goods in the most persistent
manner — pressing on him every conceivable article under the sun, so that
they disgust him, and he consents to Ka-.hleen's marriage with the plebeian
Stubbs, who has no occupation. The trifle was capitally played, Mis>
Rose Leclercq and Mr. Charles Brookfield reproducing to the life the
keen business-like manners of the pushing counter-woman and the sharp
ready traveller. Mr. Charles Allan was most amusing as the nervou^
irritable fancied sick man, who has a draught for every hour in the da^ ,
and Mr. Frederick Harrison and Miss Cudmore were excellent as the
lovers. "Captain Swift" reached its looth performance on December 8 ;
it has taken a complete hold on the public from the well-sustained
interest of the story, and the perfection of the cast. " House full" is ihe
nightly announcement.
CECIL HOWARD.
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. F
66 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
©ur
"The Love that Kills," Jocelyn Brandon's adaptation of Alphonse
Daudet's exquisite play " L'Arlesienne," was revived for a series of
matinees at the Princess's, commencing November 26. Miss Sophie Eyre,
Mr. Lawrence Cautley, Mr. Julian Cross, and Mr. Glen Wynn resumed
the characters they appeared in when the piece was played at the Prince
of Wales's, in June last, and were all warmly applauded. Miss Enid Leslie
was the new Jacques, the half-witted boy, and succeeded in a very artistic and
sympathetic manner in conveying the struggle of the awakening intellect in
the little neglected, almost unloved creature. Miss Nellie Navette, as
L'Arlesienne, looked the beautiful dangerous creature she should represent,
and her dancing of the Farandole gained her an emphatic encore. Miss Grace
Hawthorne, but for a little artificiality in her manner, was a tender Vivette.
Bizet's beautiful music was well rendered by an increased orchestra
conducted by Mr. Michael Conolly.
On Saturday, December i, 1888, the new Grand Theatre, Islington,
opened its doors to the public with the revival of " The Still Alarm."
Built on the site of the old structure, Mr. F. Matcham, the architect of both
houses, has even improved on the designs of the one that was destroyed
by fire in December last. Calculated to hold some 3,000 persons, par-
ticular attention has been paid to the comfort of the occupants of the
pit and gallery, the space allowed being ample; a better view of the stage
is also obtained from all parts of the house, from a broad lyre shape being
utilised instead of the usual horse-shoe. It having been discovered that
iron coated with concrete effectually resisted the action of the flames, this
plan has been everywhere adopted where feasible in the new building. The
proscenium consists of a frame of polished marble, in the corners of
it golden shields, and above it three panels of classic groups repre-
senting the drama, music, and dancing. The decorations of the house
are in the Louis XV. Renaissance style ; the prevailing tints employed are
pale green, terracotta, and cream, with richly gilt mouldings. Electric
lights in ground globes resembling large pearls stud the front of the
balconies and the ceiling, which is a very handsome one of stained glass and
panels, bearing the names of celebrated dramatists, &c. The orna-
mentations have been carried out in the best taste by Messrs. Campbell,
Smith, and Company, and the Plastic Decoration Company. The uphol-
stery is of crimson velvet, as is also the curtain ; the act drop, painted by
JAN. i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 67
Mr. Richard Douglass, represents somewhat heavily A< t.uon fleein.
Diana. The entrances and exits are excellently arranged, the foyer is hand-
somely proportioned, the staircases wide. Behind the footlights every atten-
tion has been paid to the comfort of the actors and actresses, a nice green-
room and well-arranged dressing-rooms have been provided, and the
stage is a remarkably fine and convenient one. Mr. Wilmot must be con-
gratulated on the possession of a valuable property, which, thanks to the
aid of his untiring and zealous assistant, Mr. H. A. Freeman, has so rapidly
been completed. After " The Still Alarm," which was favourably received
for seven nights, Miss Kate Vaughan and her comedy company occupied
the house, which was then closed for rehearsals of Mr. Geoffrey '['horn's
fourth pantomime here, and which he has entitled " Sweet Cinderella, or
Harlequin, the Prince and the Lass, and the Slipper of Glass," and in
which Miss Dot Mario fills the ti
Of all tenors, of the past and present generations, John Sims Reeves has
acquired and maintained the greatest reputation. Born at Shooter's Hill,
October 21, 1822, at a very early age the excellence of his voice was
recognised by his father, himself a musician of no mean talent. When
only fourteen years old, the younger Reeves filled the post of organist and
choirmaster at North Cray, could play the violin, oboe, &c., and had
studied harmony and counterpoint under H. Calcott, and the piano under
John Cramer. It was at the Newcastle-on-Tyne Theatre, in 1839, under
the name of " Mr. Johnson," that Mr, Sims Reeves made his debut as the
Gipsy Boy in " Guy Mannering," his voice then being pronounced a
baritone. He then came to London, and sang at the Grecian Theatre, and
took lessons from Hobbs and T. Cook, and, as a proof of his successful
training as a tenor, made a decided hit as the First Warrior in "King
Arthur ;" his song " Come if you dare" has remained to this day peculiarly
his own. Two Seasons at Drury Lane followed, and in 1843 he went to
Paris and studied under Bordogni, and subsequently at Milan, under
Mazzucato. Sims Reeves made his Italian debute La Scala in 1845 as
Edgardo in " Lucia di Lammermoor," and created a furore, and afterwards
visited Venice and towns in North Italy, and was everywhere enthusiastically
received. In December, 1847, he appeared as Edgardo at Drury Lane,
under the late M. Jullien's management; in 1848, as Carlo in "Linda di
Chamouni" at the Italian Opera House, under Lumley. In 1849, he
created the wildest enthusiasm in Dublin, and in 1850, at Her Majesty's in
" Ernani," and the following year took Paris by storm at the Theatre des
Italiens, and in 1864 his Faust gained him a perfect ovation. But years
previous to this, as far back as 1848, Mr. Sims Reeves became an idol of
the public as one of our best exponents of oratorio in " Judas Maccabaeus,"
and even enhanced his reputation subsequently by his successive triumphs
in "Eli," the "Messiah," &c. Mr. Sims Reeves' Thaddeus in the " Bohe-
mian Girl," Macheath in the " Beggars' Opera," and Tom Tug in the
" Waterman," are unapproachable, and as a ballad singer he is unrivalled.
68 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
That time has dealt so kindly with his voice is perhaps ow;ng to the fact
that he has never forced or made use of it when he felt himself the least
unequal to the effort. Mr. Sims Reeves in 1850 married Miss Lucombe,
a famous soprano.
Miss Wallis (Mrs. Lancaster) made her first appearance in 1872, a little
more than fifteen years ago, at the Standard Theatre on the occasion of
Mr. Creswick's benefit, he playing the part of Claude Melnotte to her
Pauline Deschapelles, a character that she undertook at three days' notice,
and at which time the subject of our portrait was but sixteen years old.
In the following October, however, her regular dramatic career commenced,
when Rosalind ("As You Like It"), Marguerite de Mountcalm ("Mount-
calm"), Mildred Vaughan ("Amos Clarke"), and her then great success as
Elizabeth (" Cromwell"), formed her repertoire, to which was to be added
in February, 1873, Marguerite, when "Faust and Marguerite" was produced
at the Theatre Royal, Manchester, by Mr. John Knowles. In the same
year Miss Wallis achieved a triumph by her impersonation of Cleopatra at
Drury Lane, and her Juliet was also greatly admired and lauded. After a
provincial tour, during which she became a great favourite, the young
actress fairly took the hearts of the enthusiastic Irish by storm in Dublin
and Belfast, in both of which towns the horses were taken from her
carriage, and she was drawn to her hotel by her ardent admirers, and even
the more phlegmatic Scotchmen subsequently paid her a like compliment.
An engagement at Drury Lane followed, to play lead as Amy Robsart in
the drama of that name, Edith Plantagenet in "Richard Coeur de
Lion," Mrs. Ford in the " Merry Wives of Windsor," and she herself
arranged an acting version of " Cymbeline," playing Imogen with marked
success. In 1874 Ireland was revisited, in 1876 Scotland, and on August 17
of that year Miss Wallis became Mrs. Lancaster and the wife of the
proprietor of the handsome Shaftesbury Theatre. Her re-appearance at
Manchester in the following year was hailed with delight, and in the season
of 1878 she made a most favourable impression as Hermione in "The
Winter's Tale," as Juliet, Desdemona, Ophelia, and Imogen. In con-
junction with Mr. Barry Sullivan and Miss Helen Faucit, Miss Wallis took her
acknowledged position in the inauguration of the Shakespeare memorial
at Stratford-on-Avon, and also rendered her valuable aid for Mr. Charles
Calvert's benefit, and later for that of Mr. Tom Chambers, with Mr. Henry
Irving and Miss Ellen Terry, and Mr. Barry Sullivan. Among Miss
Wallis's most notable characters must be specially mentioned that of Ninon
in W. G. Wills's play of that name, produced at the Adelphi, February,
1880, and her Adrienne Lecouvreur, which was considered one of the best
ever seen on the English boards. The talented actress also prepared
a stage version 01 "Measure for Measure," in which she appeared as
Isabella. In addition to these characters unstinted praise has been awarded
to^ her for her conception of Lady Macbeth, Constance in " The Love
Chase," Lady Teazle, Parthenia in " Ingomar," and Bianca in " Fazio."
JAN. i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 60
Of Miss Wallis's latest performances at the beautiful theatre in Shaftes-
bury Avenue, which Mr. Lancaster has erected, there is no occasion to
speak — they having been so recently and favourably noticed.
The Christmas number of the "Penny Illustrated Paper" is certainly one
of the best appearing at this season. It contains some excellent stories by
G. R. Sims, George Manville Fenn, Mr. Aglen Dowty, Richard Henry and
John Latey, jun., Howard Paul, &c., besides verses by Byron Webber,
William Mackay, and H. Chance Newton, the latter relating to the pretty
coloured supplement " Come under the Mistletoe." The number is
profusely and well illustrated.
The vignettes of the different authors appearing in this month's number
are taken from photographs, permission for which has been kindly given by
Messrs. Barraud (Wilson Barrett), Walery (Burnand), Samuel A. Walker
(Pettitt), the Stereoscopic Company (G. R. Sims), and Vandyke (Little
Austin).
Mr. Henry Irving is so well-known to, and admired and respected by the
public that a recently taken portrait of him cannot but be acceptable.
The biographical sketch by Austin Brereton of this great actor and
manager is so full and accurate as to be the best book of reference on the
subject of Mr. living's life and career. Suffice it to say that Mr. John
Henry Brodribb Irving was born at Keinton, near Glastonbury, on February
6, 1838, and made his first appearance on the stage of the Lyceum Theatre,
Sunderland, on September 29, 1856, and within two and a half working
years from that date had played four hundred and twenty-eight recorded
characters. His successes in America, his world-wide reputation gained at
the Lyceum, are familiar as " household words," and London is now look-
ing forward with the keenest interest to his next revival, " Macbeth," on
December 29, at the theatre over which he has for years so ably reigned.
The arrangements for the Christmas season at the various theatres are as
follows : — At the Adelphi we have " The Silver Falls," the new drama by
Sims and Pettitt. At the Alhambra a new and exquisite ballet, " Irene,"
with the usual attractions. At the Avenue " Nadgy " still holds her own
with undiminished success. The Comedy will probably run " Uncles and
Aunts " for months to come. The Court, besides continuing that most
amusing piece " Mamma," gives afternoon performances of the fairy tale
of " Goody Two Shoes," acted by clever children. At Drury Lane, Mr.
Augustus Harris hopes to surpass all former spectacles with his pantomime
of "The Babes in the Wood." The Haymarket may well rest satisfied
with "Captain Swift," which fills the house nightly; but on Wednesdays
matinees of special interest are being given. " Faust up to Date," written
up and strengthened, is still an immense attraction at the Gaiety. The
70 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
Grand, one of our prettiest and most comfortable theatres, produces
Geoffrey Thorn's pantomime "Sweet Cinderella." Mr. Mansfield com-
mences his season at the Globe with " Prince Karl," and in the afternoons
" Alice in Wonderland " is to be played with an exceptionally strong cast.
The new Lyric Theatre will be an object of admiration to thousands for its
elegance, beauty, and comfort, and there the ever fresh " Dorothy " finds a
home. The Opera Comique is well contented with the patronage bestowed
on " Carina," and so continues it in the bill. The Prince of Wales's, after
being redecorated, reopens with Planquette's "Paul Jones," which has
been so well received in the country. Pettitt's drama " Hands Across the
Sea" has hit the public taste at the Princess's, and will remain in the
evening bill. At the Shaftesbury, Miss Wallis will continue to appear in
" The Lady of Lyons," pending the production of the new play that is
being written for her. " Brantinghame Hall " will continue to tempt admirers
of Mr. W. S. Gilbert's work at the St. James's. Mr. J. L. Toole will
return to his own theatre with the successful and laughter-provoking
" Don." " Joseph's Sweetheart " will for the present be the attraction at
the Vaudeville, but a new play by Mr. Robert Buchanan is in rehearsal.
" Atalanta" goes so well at the Strand that there will be no change, and
Covent Garden will be occupied by Hengler's Circus.
Miss Kate Vaughan appeared for six nights at the Grand Theatre in
"Love and Honour," and as Raymonde de Montaglier exhibited a strength
and fervour in her acting that was quite unexpected ; her performance was
excellent. Miss Vaughan was well supported by Mr. H. J. Lethcourt,
Mr. Campbell Bradley, and Miss Gracie Noble, a very clever child actress.
I hope readers of THE THEATRE will not forget that the dinner given
by Miss Edith Woodworth and Mr. J. L. Toole to poor children will
come off at the Victoria Hall, Old Victoria Theatre, across Waterloo
Bridge, at mid-day on Christmas Eve, and that any toys, fruit, or sweeties
for the little ones sent to that address will be most gratefully received.
The new ballet, " Irene," at the Alhambra, surpasses, for the charm of
its music, the splendour of the scenery and dresses, and the perfection of
the dancers, any previous production. It will be treated of more fully
next month.
TO LEWIS CARROLL.
A nursery magician took
All little children by the hand,
And led them laughing through the book,
Where Alice walks in Wonderland.
Ours is the task, with elfin dance
And song, to give to childhood's gaze
That Wonderland ; and should it chance
To win a smile be thine the praise.
Christmas, 1886. H. S. C.
The above were the verses written by Mr. Savile Clarke, and dedicatory
JAN. i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 71
of his play, " Alice in Wonderland," founded on Mr. Lewis Carroll's work.
It was such a success two years ago that there is little doubt it will prove
as acceptable at the Globe Theatre, where it is to be played of an afternoon
from Boxing Day. Though in the main the book will be the same, some
fresh songs and touches have been introduced to render it, if possible, even
more fascinating and attractive.
New plays produced, and important revivals, in London, from November
19 to December 8, 1888 :—
(Revivals are marked thus*1)
Nov. 2i.* " Le Monde ou Ton s'ennuie," by M. Pailleron. French Plays,
Royalty.
„ 24. " The Alderman," modern comedy, in three acts, by James
Mortimer, adapted from the French of Barriere and Capendu.
Jodrell Theatre.
„ 24. " A White Lie," one-act comedy, by James Mortimer, adapted
from the French of M. Meilhac. Jodrell Theatre.
„ 26. " The Bo'sun's Mate," written by Walter Browne, music by
Alfred J. Caldicott St. George's Hall.
„ 26.* " The Love that Kills," three-act adaptation, by Jocelyn Brandon,
of Alphonse Daudet's " L'Arlesienne." Matinee. Princess's.
„ 27. "Widow Winsome," original play, in three acts, by Alfred C.
Calmour. Matine'e. Criterion.
„ 29. " Brantinghame Hall," new and original drama, in four acts, by
W. S. Gilbert. St. James's.
„ 29. " Roger-la-Honte, or Jean the Disgraced," English version, by
Robert Buchanan, of the French play by Jules Mary and
George Grisier ; drama, in five acts (for copyright purposes).
Elephant and Castle.
Dec. i.* "The Still A'arm," drama, in four acts, by Joseph Arthur.
Grand.
,, i.* "Fennel," romantic play, in one act, adapted from the French
" Le Luthier de Cremone " of Fran9ois Coppee, by Jerome K.
Jerome. Comedy.
„ 3. " Niniche," three-act comedy (with songs by MM. Hennequin
and Milland). French Plays, Royalty.
„ 3.* " A Husband in Clover," one-act farce, by Herman C.Merivalc
Shaftesbury.
„ 5.* " Masks and Faces," comedy, by Charles Reade and Tom
Taylor. Matinee. Haymarket.
„ 6. " Another Elopement," comedy, in two acts, by Frederick de
Lara. Ladbroke Hall.
„ 7. " The Deputy Registrar," farcical comedy, in three acts, by Ralph
Lumley and Horace Sedger. Matinee. Criterion.
72 THE THEATRE. [JAN. i, 1889.
Dec. 7. "Only a Dream," an idyll, in one act, by Jocelyn Brandon.
Matinee. Criterion.
„ 8. " The Duchess of Bayswater and Co.," new comedietta, by
A. M. Heathcote. Haymarket.
„ 10.* " Love and Honour," drama, in three acts, by A> Dumas fils,
adapted by Campbell Clarke. Grand
„ ii. " Stormcoast," drama, in four acts, by Frederick Vanneck.
Matinee. Globe.
In the Provinces, from November 19 to December 10, 1888 : —
Nov. 22. " Eve's Temptation," comedy-drama, in three acts, by the late
E. C. Bertrand. T.R. Cheltenham.
„ 22. " Mashing Mamma; or, a Domestic Mash," a farcical absurdity,
by Tom Park. T.R. Cheltenham.
„ 23. " True Heart," realistic nautical drama, in a prologue and three
acts, by Henry Byatc. Royal, Leamington.
„ 26. " Only To-night," dramatic incident, in one act, by E. Haslingden
Russel. Prince of Wales's, Liverpool.
„ 26. " Our Babies," comedy -drama, in three acts, by W. E. Morton,
music composed and arranged by G. D. Fox. T.R. East-
bourne.
Dec. i. " Claudio," comic opera, in two acts, music by Thomas Hunter,
libretto by A. V. Thurgood. T.R. Portsmouth.
„ i. " Two Christmas Eves," play, in four acts, by Albert E. Drink-
water. Shakespeare Theatre, Liverpool.
„ 3. " The Miser's Will," four-act drama, by Tom Craven. Gaiety
Theatre, Hastings.
„ 5.* " Madame Midas, the Gold Queen," drama, in four acts, by
Philip Beck and Fergus Hume. Victoria tlall, Exeter.
„ 6. " Mummies and Marriage," musical adaptation, in two acts, of
" An Illustrious Stranger," words by A. M. Mackinnon and
J. G. Adderley, music by Leslie Mayne. Exhibition Palace,
Folkestone.
„ 10. " Paul Jones," comic opera, in three acts, music by Planquette,
adapted from " Surcouf," of MM. Chivot and Duru, by H. B.
Farnie. T.R. Bolton.
In Paris, from November 17 to December 5, 1888 : —
Nov. 23. " La Japonaise," comedy-vaudeville, in four acts, by MM. De
Najac and Milland, music by M. Varney. Varietes.
„ 27. " La Veillee des Noces," comic opera, in three acts, by MM. A.
Bisson and Bureau-Jattiot, music by M. Toulmouche
(originally produced under the title of " Ls Moustier de
Guignolet " at Brussels), Menus Plaisirs.
Dec. 4. "Jealousie," drama, in four acts, by M. Auguste Vacquerie.
Gymnase.
„ 5. " Le Mariage avant la Lettre,'' comic opera, in three acts,
music by M. Oliver Metra, libretto by MM. Adolphe Jaime
and Georges Duval. Bouffes Parisiens.
THE THEATRE.
Henrik Ibsen's Dramatic Experiment.
who'd make his fellow-creatures wise, Should
always gild the philosophic pill," sings Mr.
Gilbert's Jester; and this gilding of pills con-
taining certain drugs of social or ethical problems
is becoming an important feature in modern
literature. Indeed, some may think that there
are writers who are carried rather far by their anxiety that we
should swallow these thinly disguised drugs. Not that there
should be any disinclination on our parts to recognise the
importance of the open discussion of social questions ; much
would be preferable to that. But it is a moot point how far
such topics may legitimately be treated in fiction, and a still
more open question how far this is possible in the drama
without either vitiating the essential characteristics of the
work or weakening the force of the lesson. Among English
novels there has sprung up of late years quite a little race of
works which have been dubbed " philosophical romances ; " in
some of which the romance is a mere peg upon which to hang
the philosophy, while in others a flavouring of philosophy is
added to the romance to give it a new attractiveness or an
aroma of superiority. But it has been reserved for the
Norwegian, Henrik Ibsen, to make the first serious effort to
use social problems as the themes of dramas. We may object
to their importation into novels, but the fact remains that this
has been accomplished with a fair amount of success ; it has
been shown that the lesson can be taught in a form calculated
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. G
74 THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, ;889.
to bring it into general notice, without any necessary injury to
the literary quality of the work. It is seriously to be doubted,
however, whether plays can be built upon such foundations
without injury to the drama as a part of literature, and also
without the likelihood of a less satisfactory exposition of the
lesson which it is desired to teach ; for the reason that the
conditions of novel writing and play writing are so enormously
different.
Four of Ibsen's plays — those known distinctively as his
"social dramas" — have been translated into English, and
recently published in a volume of the " Camelot Series,3' under
the title of" The Pillars of Society, and other plays," and to these
whoever will may turn for an illustration of the case. After
reading them, let him honestly ask himself how far Ibsen has
succeeded in writing artistic dramas, and also whether the lessons
he seeks to enforce would not be more fitly and even more
acceptably taught in another form. Ibsen is a man of unusual
literary power, who combines with an unswerving reverence
for the truth a keen perception of the hypocrisy of much of the
present day conventional morality ; and he has added his name
to those who have dared to inveigh against shams in defence ot
realities. But he stands alone by reason of the vehicle in
which he has attempted to convey his teaching; and these
four plays have naturally drawn upon the author a flood of
criticism on their subjects and method.
Of the four the best known in England is "Et Dukkehjem,"
which has been translated under the title of " Nora," and also as
" The Doll's House," but it is most widely known by Miss
Lord's translation as " Nora." This play has for its central
idea the emptiness of a married life where a complete trust and
understanding do not exist between man and wife ; where the
wife is a doll- wife, and thas in reality no part in her husband's
life beyond that of a plaything. It is considerably the most
dramatic of the four. " Samfundets Stotter," which appears in
English dress as " The Pillars of Society," was the earliest,
and is directed against the mixture of self-complacency and
hypocrisy which underlies so many societies, both great and
small. The central figure in the play is a wealthy shipbuilder,
the "pillar" of the local society by reason of his reputation for
unimpeachable morality. By degrees the action of the play
F*n. i, 1889.] HEMKIK inSI-:\\ 75
reveals the truth that it is by hypocrisy alone that this reputa-
tion is maintained, and it is not until in the final scene, when
his remorse drives him to reveal himself as a scoundrel and
would-be murderer, that it is realised how rotten at the core
has all along been this " pillar of society." There is, to some
extent, an impression of unreality left by the play that prevents
it from being so strong dramatically as the later "Nora."
" Ghosts," the translation of " Gengangere," enforces the inevita-
bleness of the law .of heredity, and the terrible consequences that
the sins of the fathers may entail upon the children. Though
intensely dramatic in some of its situations, as a whole it is
less perfect in construction than " Nora," and gives less the im-
pression of an artistic piece of work. " An Enemy of Society," the
English version of" En Folkefiende," which is the latest of the
four, is less dramatic still. Here the hero is another local " pillar
of society," but one this time which is sound at the core. A
certain Dr. Stockmann, whose enterprise has been the making
of a small Norwegian watering-place, discovers that it is actually
a hot-bed of disease. He warns his fellow-townsmen, but they
will neither publish the truth, for fear of frightening away
visitors, nor will they so far interfere with local interests as to-
undertake the necessary works of sanitation ; and when in
despair he summons a public meeting, he is hooted, attacked,
and driven from the place for his courage in saying what was
the truth, and what, moreover, all his assailants knew to be the
truth. The theme, the struggle of a genuinely social instinct
against a false one, is striking ; but it is difficult to believe that
on the stage parts of the play could be otherwise than intolerably
dull. Broadly speaking, the impression given by these four
plays, when viewed side by side, is that Ibsen's power of pro-
ducing an artistically constructed and effective drama has
decreased proportionately to the increase of intensity in his
purpose of discussing the social questions. It is such evidence
as this that leads to the doubt as to whether plays can be used
for this purpose without harm resulting to the literary and
artistic side of the drama, a doubt which is increased by the con-
sideration of the necessary conditions for the satisfactory treat-
ment of such topics. If we come to the conclusion that such
attempts as this of Ibsen's are not calculated to enrich
dramatic literature, but the reverse, then all who have the
76 THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
welfare of the drama at heart must deprecate them ; and if our
•conclusion be that the drama is likely to prove not only an
unacceptable but also an unsatisfactory medium for the teaching
•of these necessary lessons, we shall still more feel the advisa-
bility of holding up Ibsen's experiment as a warning to
dramatists.
That social and ethical problems can be more or less satis-
factorily popularised in novels, or a certain branch of the
family, cannot be denied in the face of such books as " Robert
Elsmere" and "All Sorts and Conditions of Men." But, as I
have said, the conditions of novel writing and play writing are
enoimously different, and from this difference arises the
unfitness of the drama for such purposes. If a social problem
is to be worked out, whether in narrative or dramatic form, it
is necessary that the reader or spectator should be able closely
to follow the activity of the minds of the characters portrayed ;
for in all such cases deliberate motive and personal reflection
must be the mainsprings of the action of the story, and these
must be patent if the lesson is to be clearly taught. If they
-are not, a wrong impression may be produced, or characters
may seem to act capriciously when we cannot see the links
that bind their actions together. But this end is only to be
fully obtained in a novel by a prolixity of description which
in a play is impossible, and by those records of personal
deliberation for which in a play there is but little place. Again,
•on the stage the various phases of human nature are presented
in crystallised and typical forms. The scenes we see there are
generalisations from human experience, and not mere literal
transcripts. The wider contrasts of right and wrong, good
and evil, the drama can no doubt effectively portray ; for they
are unalterable in their relations to human nature. But for
the illustration of complex social questions whose aspect
changes to every generation, what is required partakes much ot
the nature of minute photographs of various parts of life ; and
such mere photographic reproduction is as far below the highest
level in the dramatic as it is in pictorial art.
The circumstances, too, under which social questions would
come before the public in dramas might easily militate against
the effective teaching of the lesson intended. One can never
•dogmatise as to the temper of audiences, but it is quite possible
FEB. i, 1889.] ///•;. VA'/A" IBSEN. 77
that the public might comr t<» resent having" its social education
forced upon it in a connection where it might deem it incon-
gruous, and it might protect itself by staying" away. Although
there is no doubt that the theatre may be a powerful instrument
as a moral educator, the public does not go there to receive the
improving force in open mouth like a dose, but rather absorbs
^^v
it almost unconsciously through its moral cuticle. It is hard
to believe that there would not be felt a sense of the unwieldi-
ness as well as the unfitness of the drama as a means of social
teaching. This feeling would be intensified were it to be found
that the adoption of such a method robbed the drama of any
of its essentially dramatic characteristics ; if it tended to-
subordinate construction of plot and conciseness of dialogue to
didactic discussions on social topics. The public, it is to be
hoped, will always be grateful to those who ventilate subjects of
such importance to its inner life ; but it is also to be hoped that
it would not allow its dramatic literature to be harmed in the
process, so long as another and a more convenient form of
fiction existed.
With regard to an attempt to estimate how far this would be
likely to be the result of this new departure, it may be objected
that it is not fair, even if one does not think very highly of
the dramatic qualities of Ibsen's social plays, to argue from
his isolated case that the principle is bad. But his is the most
serious attempt of the kind to which one can refer for evidence ;
and inasmuch as he is a man of great literary parts, with a
complete command of dramatic technique, it would seem that
his work is very fairly to be taken as representative. More-
over, there are considerations of dramatic and literary principle
involved, upon some of which I have already touched, which
go to confirm the impression produced by a closer acquaintance
with these plays.
In " The Pillars of Society," the earliest of the four, one is
struck, as in the case of all Ibsen's plays, by the wonderful
facility of the dialogue — a facility which, indeed, becomes almost
a trick — but one is also struck by its superabundance. Incisive
as it is in many scenes of the play — for instance, in the opening
scene, or that between Lona and Consul Bernick — one cannot
escape from the feeling that for dramatic purposes there is too
much of it. Ibsen's object here is to expose the conventional
78 1HE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 18*9.
hypocrisies and prejudices with which many of the so-called
"pillars of society" are clothed as with a garment; and a
consequence of this object is that he must present a very large
amount of subjective detail, that he may let his audience see
into the working of his characters' minds. This is indispensable
if he is to attain his end, and it may be marked that the
tendency of this necessity seems to be to loosen his grasp on
the dramatic character of the whole work.
" Nora " is the most finished of the four plays as a piece
of dramatic literature. Whatever may be his opinion as to
the likelihood of such a character as Nora acting as she
does after the catastrophe, no one can deny the very fine effect
of the climax and the skill with which it is reached. The
various characters stand out distinctly from their background
and from each other, as is always the case with Ibsen's dramatis
•persona. He has a wonderful power of drawing characters in
a few decisive strokes, which goes far to counterbalance the
disadvantage under which the " social " dramatist must labour
from the impossibility of his making use of description as
freely as can his novelist fellow- worker. " Nora " is certainly
the best of the four plays, as a play ; and this is because it is
on the whole the truest to all life, and not merely to a part of
it, and also to the canons of dramatic art. For its subject is
more nearly akin to those which can be and have been legiti-
mately and successfully treated in drama.
In " Ghosts " and "An Enemy of Society," the social question
begins to rank before the drama in the author's mind, and he
seems to be losing his hold upon the entire mass of dramatic
material in his desire to accentuate certain parts of it.
" Ghosts," considered from the point of view of dramatic con-
struction, is a fragment, an " impression." And, though it has
one scene unequalled in dramatic intensity by any in the other
plays, I am nevertheless forced to think there would be some-
thing very unsatisfactory about it when produced on the stage.
Pastor Manders would be tiresome ; and until the latter part
of the play, it is difficult to think that the interest of an audience
could be sufficiently maintained. But above all there is some-
thing aesthetically repulsive about " Ghosts." One need not be
prudish to believe that, although it is hypocrisy to ignore the
existence of certain plague spots on society, there is nevertheless
FEB. i, 1889.] HENRI R' I fiSEN. 79
much reason in the old artistic canon as to what may be repre-
sented coram poptilo. The truth of the awful penalty which
the law of heredity may exact for the sin of a previous gene-
ration is one which cannot be too openly emphasised. But we
are considering how far the drama is a fit or desirable medium
for the exposition of such truths ; and I cannot but think that
in some cases, as here, our feeling of repulsion would conquer
every other. For the drama is, after all, an art ; and art — pace
MM. Sardou and Verestchagin — should not be repulsive. In an
age when such scenes can be produced as the third act of " La
Tosca," he would be bold who would lay down any limits as to
what a dramatist may dare to put upon the stage in the way of
repulsive realism. But that scene was repulsive from its sheer
butcher-like brutality. " Ghosts " would repel us by the
character of its theme, that of insanity as the consummation of
a hideous disease latent in a man from birth, in consequence of
his father's sin. Add to this the piteous position of the young
man's mother, sheltering for obvious reasons in her house the
daughter of a woman her own husband had ruined ; seeing this
girl's ruin in turn attempted almost under her very eyes by her
son ; and finally to learn from his lips the consequence in
himself of his father's vices, of which she had known only too
much. Intensely, terribly dramatic it certainly is, and illustrates
its lesson with fearful force ; but it is repulsive as the theme of a
drama for the stage, and an offence against good taste in
dramatic art.
Not only is "An Enemy of Society" lacking in individual
scenes of great dramatic power, but it is still more chaotic when
viewed as a whole. Dr. Stockmann's character is very finely
drawn, but to him everything is sacrificed. Ibsen's aim is to
show the exponent of a genuinely social idea exalted into the
light of a hero by the persecution he incurs by his opposition
to a false and mistaken one. Dr. Stockmann's character is
doubly interesting from the fact that it probably reflects much
of Ibsen's own experience ; but here more than ever does the
playwright seem to be hankering after the novelist's oppor-
tunities of description. It is the nature of the subject that
produces so much conversation that is no doubt instructive, but
is also undramatic, and on the stage would probably be
wearisome.
8o THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
I do not think Ibsen's two later plays, " The Wild Duck "
and " Rosmersholm," can fairly be classed with the previous
four as representative of his new departure in drama ; for in
both, and especially in the latter, the social question seems to
have receded in favour of the dramatic instinct in the author's
mind. "The Wild Duck" is a sad and somewhat tiresome
play ; but " Rosmersholm," though gloomy in tone, is more
dramatic and more artistic than what had preceded it, for the
reason, it seems to me, that the social question has passed into
the background.
In coming to a conclusion as to the expediency of such
experiments as this of Ibsen's, the question must be considered
in two lights — with respect to the conveyance of the lesson and
its probable reception by the audience, and with respect to the
play. As to the fitness of the dramatic form of writing for this
purpose, it would seem that on the whole its gain in the
publicity it gives to the topics concerned does not counterbalance
the inconveniences of the method, which, if a genuinely
dramatic play is to be produced, must of necessity exclude
much that is absolutely necessary to the full exposition of the
subject. And if the plays lose their dramatic character, the
audiences will lose their interest in the plays, and so possibly
in the social topics also.
As to the other aspect of the question, the fact that in the
minds of playwrights of this class the social problems must
always rank in importance before the drama, points to the fact
that the adoption of such a style means a certain violence to
dramatic literature and to the drama as an art. For instance,
in these plays of Ibsen's, one sees a great master of dramatic
method forced by the nature of his subjects to subject the
whole to the parts, and losing more or less his command over
the dramatic whole in proportion as his particular subject
demands more or less prolixity of detail. It is a very true
truism that in the drama " the play's the thing ; " and at the
present time, when realism of every kind threatens to usurp
the place of the literary and artistic qualities of the drama, all
who are anxious for the future of dramatic literature will
deprecate this new departure.
Since the above was written, an interesting article by Mr.
Gosse, on " Ibsen's Social Dramas," has appeared in the " Fort-
FEU. i, 1889.) HENRIK inSKN. Si
^
nightly Review." In this Mr. Gosse has confined himself to
the consideration of these- dramas as a literary contribution to
the discussion of social questions, and as such they deserve all
the praise he gives them. But regarded in the light of dramatic
literature, that is to say, as plays written for stage production —
for Ibsen obviously did not intend them for " closet plays "-
they seem to me rather to approximate to the " interesting
novelette in dialogue," which is the apt description Mr. Gosse
gives of "An Enemy of Society." Not the least interesting
part of Mr. Gosse's paper is his reference to the play, " The Lady
from the Sea," which Ibsen has just published. The story,
which it is unnecessary to repeat here, is poetic in the highest
degree, and even fantastic, and seems a curious one to be selected
by such a sternly professed realist as Ibsen. But the beauty of
its treatment affords additional proof of the hampering effect
exercised by the social problems in his previous plays. These
shackles once thrown off, pessimism and gloom disappear, and
poetic and dramatic beauty revive. I shall venture in conclusion
to apply to all four of Ibsen's social dramas a remark which Mr,
Gosse makes on one of them, "The story- would make an
interesting novel ; it hardly endures dramatic treatment."
R. FARQUHARSON SHARP.
82 THE THEATRE [FFH. i, 1889.
The Love Lesson.
A Poem for Recitation written for Mr. Hermann Veztn.
«
H, what is love r" said the maiden,
"What is it like ?" asked she.
" Do let me give you a lesson,
I can teach it so well," said he.
" Come out in the moon-lit garden,
List to the words I say,
Look in my eyes as I speak them,
You will learn it quite fast that way.
See how the bright moon is shining,
Hark ! to the nightingale,
And try to make your hand tremble,
Your cheek too should turn very pale.
In your eyes should shine a strange fire ;
Look how it burns in mine.
Does your heart beat like a hammer r
Palpitation's a certain sign.
You can't ? Are you sure you're trying r
Give your mind to the task,
If I'm the master, you pupil,
Attention I really must ask.
Here is a seat — rest a moment ;
Nestle, please, to my side,
Don't sit over there, divided
From me by a space that's so wide."
" How does one nestle r Good gracious !
There's much to learn, I see."
" That's better ! Yes, you're improving,
With practice soon perfect you'll be.
And now be silent a moment,
Or breathe a gentle sigh,
Soft as the wind that is stirring
The green leaves as it rustles by.
FEB. i, 1889. THE f^OVE LESSON. 83
Ah ! that was too loud ! Just listen —
This is the proper way. (He sighs.)
Now say, * I must leave you, Harold ! '
Though of course you intend to stay.
Then by the hand I shall clasp you,
Thus, ah ! so close with mine, ^
Close, and yet closer, till blushes
Veil softly your pallor divine.
Why, you are blushing1 ! That's clever —
Deeper and deeper still ;
You're one of the aptest pupils
Ever bowed to a master's will.
And now quite pale you are turning,
Just as you ought to do ;
Your hand too trembles — I feel it —
For your eyes shine two drops like dew.
But don't turn away. AM contraire,
Look in my eyes, and hear
How I have loved you to madness
Since the day I met you last year.
You remember ? Where the river
Murmured its sleepy song,
Under the shade of the willows,
So lonely you wandered along.
'Twas Autumn, season of mem'ries,
Happy, or sad may be
To some who have toiled, and sorrowed,
And watched the leaves fall from Hope's tree;
Who have seen the stealthy winter
Creep o'er the dreary wold,
And have had no ' home ' to go to
But a hearth where joy's ashes were cold;
Who have heard life's storm winds roaring,
Beat at a window pane,
From which not a ray was shining,
To bid them be hopeful again.
And have longed, but ah ! how vainly,
For just one voice to say —
84 THE THEATRE. [.FEB. i, 1889.
* Be strong, there is one who loves you ;
She is praying for you to-day.
Her life is twined with your being ;
Then bravely face the world,
March on with your banner waving,
Ne'er retreat with your pennon furled.'
I was sad, well-nigh despairing,
Careless what fate might bring,
Choked with the dust of life's battle,
Where the bells ever death knells ring.
Where trumpets call to the sleepers —
* Gird you up for the fight ! '
Who march forth hopeful at daybreak,
To fall by the wayside ere night.
Where victor tramples on vanquished,
Heedless to count the slain,
To bind up wounds that are bleeding,
Bid the wear)- be strong again.
I was wounded, almost dying,
Faith e'en in God nigh lost ;
We met — 'twas like lights from harbour
To a ship on dark billows 'tossed.
I heard you sing to the river
There in the eventide,
And lo ! all my care and sorrow
Swept away on your music's tide —
Swept away, and left me peaceful,
As if I stood afar,
And heard the eternal music
That mounts up where the angels are.
As if all the world's great darkness
Was pierced with sudden light —
You entered into my winter,
So it blossomed to spring's delight !
And now — but, child, you are weeping,
As men weep at a play
Whose mimic tragedy moves them,—
You will laugh when you go away;
Will laugh ; and forget the lesson
I fain would teach to-night —
FEB. i, 1889.] A LAMENT ^POIVER. 85
O child, if you could but learn it
You might make such a dark life bright.
Still weeping ? The play is over,
The stage is dark once more,
And we are to one another,
I suppose, as we were before. .,
Look up, your lesson is finished ;
Sweet pupil, smile again
Through your tears, as sudden sunshine
Gleams out through the clouds and the rain.
You say you " would study longer ;
Need master and pupil part ? "
" O, love, then you've learnt the lesson r"
She whispered, " I know it by heart! "
ROBERT S. HICHENS.
A Latent Power.
BY MARIE DE MEXSIAUX.
RE you a believer r "
" A possible one. Put me to the test and 1 will
give you an honest answer."
" What do you think of this man ? "
" This man ! I thought you were questioning me
in earnest, not joking."
These words were being exchanged in the midst of a brilliant
and fashionable crowd that thronged Willis's Rooms; the
occasion being a conversazione given by a society especially
interested in literature. The evening had commenced by a
lecture on old books, delivered by one of the members. He
was a foreigner, and mumbled so indistinctly that this proved a
powerful incentive to conversation ; however, as at the con-
clusion of his lengthy speech the guests were thanked for their
kind attention, no doubt the lecturer was satisfied. The usual
mixture of people one meets at conversaziones was there, with
a sprinkling of celebrities of the literary and artistic world.
86 THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
The great aesthetic poet had condescended to come accompanied
by his pretty wife, a living proof that once in his life at least
his taste was indisputable. In one group, a fair man with a
clean-shaven face and a quick intelligent eye was questioning
one of the hosts as to the identity of some ladies belonging
to the Dramatic Press ; he was the great traveller and showman
combined, the man of a hundred characters ; while the quiet>
gentle-looking dark man, conversing with both, was the
anonymous author of a blood-curdling story, a little book that
had recently met with the greatest success. Here, side by side,
a pretty actress wearing her hair Grecian fashion, and an Indian
princess in her native costume, attracting all by her wondrously
soft and large brown eyes. Painters and musicians were there,
altogether a rather interesting assembly.
Some of the members of the society, with all due reverence
for old books, had feared they might prove rather dry if pre-
sented as the sole entertainment, and had wisely considered
that one of a lighter form would not be amiss. So at their
request a well-known American humorist first provoked the
heartiest of laughter by his excellent mimicry, and then a mes-
merist came on the scene. Partially successful in exercising
his power on a young man selected from the audience, he then
introduced three men whom he brought with him, acknow-
ledging this showed him at a disadvantage. This was the man
who was being discussed by one of the hosts and one of the
fair guests.
Alma Power was a tall girl with a pleasant face and a bright
smile ; her eyes could sparkle with merriment, but now and then
a dreamy far-off look would creep into them. One could not be
long in discovering that whatever her mood, her striking point
was earnestness.
" You think this man a charlatan r " continued her inter-
locutor.
" Yes, a clever one, but I can never believe in mesmerism,
when it is so palpably nothing but clever deception."
" Have you never met with mesmerism that you could
believe in ? "
" Never." But as she spoke, a look of inexpressible tender-
ness came into her eyes, and adding softly, " Yes, the mes-
merism of sympathy, " she held out her hand to a man who
FEB. i, 1889.] A LATKXT r<JWER. 87
had been struggling through the crowd to reach her side.
This straightforward looking young fellow, with his bright,
honest face, was Alma's fiance. He at once joined the con-
versation, irreverently expressing his opinion that it was all
bosh.
Alma shook her head. " I have heard of such strange
things, that I dare not pass judgment until I have seen
more."
" Surely, Mr. Power, you have seen Leo Tyer, the greatest
mesmerist of the day ? "
" Never."
" Then make a point of doing so at the earliest opportunity,
and if you can explain all he does by calling it clever de-
ception, I shall consider you far more clever than any one I
have ever met."
A few days after this conversation had taken place, the Powers
went to Cliff-on-the-Sea for the remaining summer months, and
Alma was much interested to find that Leo Tyer had been
the talk of the town, his seances creating quite a sensation. It
was said that at his will and command people fancied them-
selves to be someone else ; or to be suffering from any
malady he chose to name ; indeed, the inhabitants of the little
sea-port were beginning to be frightened, and the name of Leo
Tyer was pronounced with awe. He was about to depart from
Cliif-on-the-Sea, and a farewell performance was announced. To
this Alma determined to go, when at the last moment, and with-
out any special reason being given for it, the performance was
forbidden by the local authorities. It was whispered that the fact
of some women fainting at the last seance had something to do
with the prohibition. However, it turned out to be simply that
the mesmerist had married, and was off for his wedding trip.
Alma was greatly vexed ; she long had set her heart on fathom-
ing the mysteries of mesmerism, and by a sort of ill-luck, when-
ever any specially interesting seance took place she was sure to
miss it. Hal Stirling, her fiance, would rail at her good-
humouredly, but this time she seemed so bitterly disappointed
that he resolved to try his best to satisfy her curiosity. And
this is how matters came about.
Alma and Hal were to be married shortly after Christmas, and
he decided to say farewell to his bachelor life by giving a party
S8 THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889-
at his chambers, to which the Powers and a large number of
friends would be invited. He had met Leo Tyer at the Gipsy
Club, and hoped to make him his chief guest ; this, however,
proved impossible, the eminent mesmerist being already engaged
several times over. Stirling was expressing his vexation rather
emphatically to one of the " Gipsies," when the latter said,
*' Why don't you get Hizer Magnet ? I think him far more
wonderful, for he goes in for double sight, thought-reading,
and all that sort of thing. Stirling jumped at the idea, and
was fortunate enough to secure this more than wonderful man.
On Christmas eve, the eventful evening, Alma was excited
and nervous ; she half wished, half feared, to have the proof that
such a power was given to man. Everyone said that Hizer
Magnet surpassed himself, but to Alma this seemed only ex-
tremely clever trickery. She was but a short distance from the
mesmerist, looking intently at him. " Am I never to know the
truth ? " she thought. " Is this man a mere conjurer, or does he
hold such a power in his grasp ?" Unconsciously as these
thoughts passed through her brain, her gaze assumed a staring
expression ; her eyes, riveted on his, seemed as if they would
dive into his very soul. As he returned her look, Hizer Magnet's
eyes instantly became fixed, and he made a few strides in her
direction.
" Am I to learn something at last ? " she whispered, stepping
towards him. But as she advanced he stepped back ; she placed
Tier hand on his shoulder to detain him, and a sort of tremor
shook his frame. After a short struggle the man sank into a
chair behind him, but with his eyes still rigidly fixed on her face.
" Are you ill ? " she said. No answer. " Speak ! " Hizer
Magnet shivered slightly. " Speak ! " she insisted.
" What do you want, to know r Command me."
The guests began to look at each other in wonderment, but
Alma was too much absorbed with her own thoughts to notice
this. In a loud earnest voice she said, " What is the meaning
of this ? You, who pretend to such unlimited power on others,
what is it that affects you so deeply r "
" Don't ask me to speak the truth."
" But I do ask you to speak the truth. It is my wish. You must
speak ! "
In slow measured tones the following words came from Hizer
SSSSS^S^A^ASA^A
MISS JESSIE HOM>.
"An c.\C(jc'lii^!y mid youn^ lady.
RUDDTGORE
.R * I'll ^PH'IAT
KAKK-\ri
I\K?> F^R "
AND i n v.i<r"
I H f. 1 1 1 f \ I »
FEB. i, 1889.] A LATENT POWER. 89
'~
Magnet's lips : " I came here to impose upon you by clever long-
practised tricks, and by the help of confederates ; you have the
power I pretended to possess, and the existence of which I have
always denied. I am at your mercy, awake me and let me go."
A sort of awe seemed to fall on all present ; Alma herself felt a
strange fear creeping over her. Stirling, seeing her turnjsale,
seized the mesmerist by the arm.
" I say, Magnet, drop that nonsense, we have had enough of
this."
Receiving no answer, Stirling, who was strong and by no-
means patient, raised him out of the chair to a standing posture
and shook him, but to no effect ; Hizer Magnet remained rigid
and speechless. Hal looked at Alma.
"There's something wrong, I'll go for a doctor."
During his absence, which was fortunately short, all kept
silent as if afraid to speak. Alma was bewildered. Had not the
man said to her that she had mesmerised him ? Surely this could
not be true, it was part of his performance ; but in that case why
had he accused himself of deception r The doctor, after a care-
ful examination, pronounced him to be in a cataleptic state,
every means to awaken him being used in vain. This was
getting awkward : the ladies began to say it was very late, the
men that they mustn't lose their train. Stirling and the Powers
were soon left alone, and the latter retired shortly after, Hal
promising to call the first thing in the morning to report any-^
thing that might have happened during the night. Hizer Mag-
net had been placed on a sofa with a rug over him, and there he
remained motionless until the morning.
* To describe the wild dreams which haunted Alma that night
would be impossible ; she arose feverish and unrefreshed, and
dressed herself at an early hour in expectation of Hal's visit,
Her parting words had been an attempt at a joke. " If he is my
subject this man will call himself to-morrow."
" Has he been turning me into ridicule r or is it possible that I
had the power to put him to sleep r "
These were the thoughts which now constantly revolved in her
brain. "He spoke to me and refused to answer the others.
They say mesmerists have power over their subjects even at a
distance/' Then with a short unnatural laugh she added aloud,
" I suppose if I were to say * Come to me> I command it ! ' he would
NEW SKRIES. — VOL. XIII. H
o THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
do so, and make himself my slave ; I have often read of
such a scene in novels," and she shrugged her shoulders con-
temptuously.
A quarter of an hour after, she heard a ring and knock at the
street door, and, thinking it was Hal, rushed out to meet him.
On the drawing-room landing she was met by the servant.
" A gentleman has just called, miss, but he won't give his
name, and " (lowering her voice) " he looks so queer, miss ; and
he is in evening dress/'
The words were scarcely out of her mouth when a step was
heard on the stairs, and Hizer Magnet, apparently still in a
trance, made his appearance.
" Go and tell my father Mr. Hizer Magnet wants to speak to
him directly," said Alma, hurriedly, to the servant, and she
retreated into the drawing-room, followed by Magnet.
" Why have you come here ? " she asked him, abruptly. No
answer. " Why have you come ? Speak ! "
" Did you not bid me come and be your slave ? "
"When?"
" A quarter of an hour ago you uttered this command in your
room. I came without delay. Will you wake me now r I am,
as you bid me, your slave — your very own. Pity me ! " and with
these words he sank down on his knees before her. At this
precise moment Hal, flushed and excited, rushed into the room.
Now, Stirling had one fault among his numerous good qualities ;
he loved Alma with all the warmth of a generous nature, but he
was jealous — at times unreasonably so. Seeing Magnet at
Alma's feet, he gasped for breath, and then burst out,
" Oh ! this is why you gave me the slip this morning ; this is
the meaning of last night's ridiculous comedy! I congratulate
you on your cleverness, madam. This deep interest in mes-
merism was well contrived to persuade me to facilitate your
meeting with your admirer, and I must really apologise for
intruding on so charming a scene."
At this juncture Mr. Power entered the room. " What is the
matter, Stirling ? "
"Mr. Stirling appears to have lost his reason, father.
Perhaps, when he has recovered his senses, he will explain his
conduct to you. I shall withdraw to my room."
FEB. i, 1889.] A LATENT POWER.
<'
" Alma, you are right — I am mad ; don't be hard on a fellow.
No doubt you can explain what this man is doing here."
" I will certainly not condescend to do anything of the kind ;
-and you " (turning to Hizer Magnet) " leave the house — go ! "
"Go where ?"
" Anywhere ; to the bottom of the sea, for aught I care."
With slow, measured steps Hizer Magnet left the room, and
Alma burst into tears. In a minute Stirling was at her side.
44 What a brute I am ! My darling, you know I trust you,
the best and truest woman on earth ; but all this business has
unhinged me. Forgive me, like the dear, good girl you are
and tell me how it all happened."
After a little coaxing Alma consented. She had just finished
relating the events of the morning when the doctor arrived.
He had been to Stirling's chambers, and finding him gone
had followed him to the Powers' house. He was at once put
into full possession of the facts, which had been imperfectly
explained to him on the previous night, including the last
incident.
He looked grave. " I am sorry, Miss Power, that I did not
understand last night that you had mesmerised Magnet, as you
undoubtedly have. Experience has proved to me that such a
power is given to man and woman. The power lay latent in
you, and you exercised it unconsciously, still the effect was pro-
duced. The man is in a trance, and while it lasts your in-
fluence alone can control his actions. He ought to be awakened
with the shortest delay. When you bid him go, did you tell him
where to ?"
Alma looked startled. " Oh, doctor, please say you are not
serious. I was extremely angry, and said he might go to the
bottom of the sea for aught I cared."
" Then, my dear young lady, you may rest satisfied that he is
on his way to get there."
They looked at each other in consternation. " What are we
to do ? he has been gone more than an hour now ! "
" I'll go after him," said Stirling.
"I beg to remark that you do not know where to look for him.
No, Miss Power had best concentrate all her will and strength
in ordering him back to this house, and there is no reason why
she should not succeed as well as this morning."
92 THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
But she did not succeed. In vain during the day the ex-
periment was tried, but with the same ill-success. At dinner all
were gloomy and silent ; Alma hardly touched any food. The
night proved a sleepless one for her. When morning came she
wras haggard and exhausted. Stirling had not left the house,
and she went down to him.
" Give me your hand, Hal ; let me gain strength from your
support, and try again."
With almost wild energy she sent forth her command through
space, and half fainting sank down on the sofa. Still nothing.
About mid-day the voice of the doctor was heard calling,
" Victory ! I have found him."
And truly enough here they were both together.
" No wonder, Miss Power, that you could not influence your
subject. Do you know where I found him ? At one of the police
stations, where they had locked him up thinking he had been in-
dulging too freely in drink, and where the poor devil spent his
time in bruising himself by trying to force the door, no doubt to-
obey your command. Fearing this was a case of insanity, they
sent for a doctor, and fortunately selected me. Here is our
prisoner, and now to wake him."
But Alma had fainted, the reaction had been too much for
her unstrung nerves.
A couple of hours' rest, however, restored her strength, and,,
under the doctor's directions, she awakened him by blowing
gently on his eyes. Matters had to be explained to him, but
he was not told of the risk he had undergone of taking an unex-
pected bath. There happened to be a large dinner party at
the Powers' on Boxing night, and his extraordinary appetite
rather startled his neighbours. Stirling told his friends that
the scene at his chambers had been a practical joke arranged
between him and Hizer Magnet, but the latter absolutely de-
clined to give a seance that evening, and from that day entirely
gave up the profession of mesmerist. As for Alma, she had
too great a dread of the strange power in her to experiment
with it again. The only mesmerism she has made use of
since this one trial, is that of sympathy and love — one that her
husband thoroughly appreciates.
FEB. i, 1889.] "ENGLISH AS SHE IS SPOKE.
93
English as She is Spoke. "
is an old story concerning Robert Suett, the
actor, better known as Dicky Suett, on account ot
his excellence in the part of Dicky Gossip, the
barber, in the farce of " My Grandmother." Cap-
able as the airy creature was of levity in its inoffen-
sive and most agreeable sense, he being the lightest
of light comedians, the specific levity of obtrusive irreverence
was never alleged against him, and it appears to have been in
serious good faith that he had cards printed in these terms :—
" Rober Suett, comedian : to be heard of at the ' Cock and
Bottle' in Drury Lane. Clergymen taught to read the Lord's
Prayer." No doubt Mr. Suett read the divinely simple supplica-
tion better than any bishop, priest, or deacon of his day. Then, as
in later times, it was not unusual for clergymen to receive lessons
in declamation from actors. That finished reader, the late John
Chippendall Montesquieu Bellew, studied recitation under a no
less distinguished master than Macready. I stood by Mr. Bellew
in Westminster Abbey at the funeral of Lord Palmerston, and we
noted Dean Stanley's delivery of the words/4 Earth to earth, ashes
to ashes, dust to dust," Bellew remarking that it was magnificent,
though a little too theatrical, and adding, with a somewhat
amusing nciivete, "I ought to be a judge." Leigh Hunt, too,
who has more than once repeated that story of Suett, tells us
in his Autobiography, that his father, when reading the Litany,
made a point, also a trifle histrionic, in pausing impressively
between the phrases, " In the hour of death, and in the DaJ of
Judgment." Perhaps the reverend gentleman, father of the
poet and belle lettrist, had been wise in his generation, to the
extent, at least, of " learning to read," as not every clergyman
did or does. We must all confess that laxity in the observance
of orthoepic rules, in and out of church, and on this as well as
the other side of the footlights, is a fault of modern ^English
94 THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889,
manners. For want of proper elocutionary training, some of
our younger actors and actresses have provoked the protests ot
nice-eared critics, whose censure is not a whit too soon. Beside
such down-at-heel speech as histry and mystry, for history and
mystery, and the common displacement of vowel sounds, there is
that horrible cockney misprision of the dog-letter, mainly brought
about by the necessities of burlesque rhymes and puns. That
same dog-letter is left out or dragged in, like a dog indeed,
with or without warrant. I myself have certainly heard a young
comedian say Mamma-r-is. But then, on the other hand,
clergymen are quite as censurable as the most slipshod speakers
on the stage ; for do we not, some of us, often hear a certain
prayer for Victoria-r-our most gracious Queen and Governor ?
Recurring to the misplacement of vowel-sounds, I venture to
say that Trinity is very often Trinaty, as pronounced by the
clergyman at the reading-desk, and that everywhere one hears
the word " enough " spoken of as if it were spelt enough.
A habit of slurred pronunciation, especially in the termination
of words like these very two, " pronunciation " and " termina-
tion " — many affected young ladies withdrawing the vowel-
sounds altogether and afflicting the sensitive ear with some such
unmusical sound as schn — has grown very common of late. But
the treatment of r by the burlesque school of playwrights, forcing
upon actors a total disregard of this important consonant, or
else a violent assault on the same, may, I think, be condemned
as the worst of all cacophonies. Neither this nor any other of
them, as I have ventured to say, is peculiar to stage, pulpit, or
platform. They are all social no less than professional abomina-
tions. Thackeray ridiculed "Marire" for "Maria," and the
music-hall rhyme "Leonora" and " before her ;" but not all his
literary brethren took the gentle hint, nor had it any marked
effect on public speech. To this day the cockneyism passes
current in high places. It was quite as often in lobbies and
foyers as on the stage, during the long run of " Sophia,"
that one might have been auricularly tortured, night after
night, by the worse than barbaric sound " Sophire," which calls
to mind the stupid old catch, " Ah, how, Sophia," wherein our
grandfathers and grandmothers were supposed to discern, for
their intense edification, a resemblance to the words, " a house
a-fire." GODFREY TURNER.
. i, 1889.1 «UNA PREGHIERA:*
95
"Una Preghiera.
[Suggested by a letter written from a sister of Nazareth House headed "tftxl's will
be done."]
E'VE breasted storms and wildest seas together,
He and I.
Our love prov'd faithful through the maddest
weather,
He and I.
God's will be done ! Nothing can alter that on earth.
Oh, do not take him yet ! The universe is great,
Can no one less belov'd be found ? or is his worth
So coveted by Thee ? Ah, pardon ! We will wait,
He and I.
Teach me to pray, as we together prayed,
He and I,
Before our souls with grief and pain were weighed,
He and I.
Dear Lord, let me but meet him soon, 'tis all I ask.
I thank Thee for the comfort to my soul. My task
Is lighten' d by Thy heavenly strength and grace,
The day is drawing near ! We both shall see Thy face,
He and I.
MARGARET BRANDON.
96 THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
©ur
" DOROTHY."
Three-act Comedy-Opera. Words by B. C. STEPHENSON. Music by ALFRED CELLIER.
Performed for the 817th consecutive time on the opening of the Lyric Theatre, Shaftesbury Avenue
Monday, December 17, 1888.
Dorothy Bantam
Lydia Hawthorne
Phyllis Tuppitt
Mrs. Privett ..
Lady Betty
Geoffrey Wilder
Miss MARIE TEMPEST.
Miss AMT AUGARDE.
Miss FLORENCE PERRY.
Miss HARRIETT COVENEY.
Miss FLORENCE XEVILLE.
Mr. BEN DA VIES.
Harry Sherwood
Squire Bantam
John Tuppitt . .
Lurcher
Tom Strutt ,
Mr. C. HAYDEN COFFIN.
Mr. FURNEAUX COOK.
Mr. SEBASTIAN KING.
Mr. ARTHUR WILLIAMS.
Mr. JOHN LE HAY.
Notwithstanding the many nights and days during which " Dorothy "
nad been heard in London, the transfer to its new home appeared in no
whit to have diminished its" public favour, and it was received enthusiastic-
ally. Of the cast there is really no occasion to speak, its excellence
having already been fully descanted on, but as a matter of record it is
given. Mr. Ivan Caryll once more proved himself the ablest of conductors,
and was warmly greeted, the author and composer were welcomed, and
the fortunate proprietor of the very handsome house, Mr. Henry J. Leslie,
when bowing his acknowledgments, said that his great ambition was to
emulate the Opera Comique of Paris, and that the next production would
be another work by the author and composer of " Dorothy."
The building of the Lyric Theatre commenced on February 9, 1888,
from designs of C. J. Phipps, Esq., F.S.A., but was determined on four
years previous to that date. The faQade is in the Renaissance style, of
red brick and Portland stone. It stands almost isolated, and has twelve
exits from the auditorium into Archer Street, Windmill Street, and the
Shaftesbury Avenue, and two exits from the stage, and is lighted through-
out by electricity. Its holding capacity is nearly that of the Lyceum, and
has seven rows containing 150 stalls, the pit accommodating 300, the
balcony 163, upper circle 230, and the gallery 700. Every effort has been
made to secure the comfort of visitors, not only as far as seating is con-
cerned, but in the refreshment rooms and foyers, and dressing rooms with
baths have even been provided for visitors. The depth of the stage is 40
feet, the width 70 feet, and height to gridiron 56 feet.
The scheme of colour of the auditorium is pale lemon, white, and gold,
relieved with pale grey-blue. The hangings are gold and coral brocatelle.
The seats are covered with Genoa velvet, carrying out the blue tone intro-
duced into the decorations. The walls of the dress circle, private boxes,
second circle and staircase are covered with a gold-stamped leather paper.
The frame of the proscenium is of a brown and white alabaster, and the
sides of the stalls and pit are lined with panelled walnut and sycamore,
FEB. i, 1889.]
OUR PLAY-BOX.
97
with handsome carved mouldings, specially designed and manufactured in
Germany.
The grand hall in the second circle is early French Renaissance of the
Henry II. period, with geometrically ribbed ceiling and cornice, tapestried
walls, panelled dado, doors and fireplace. The colour is a turquoise-blue
and green. The windows are filled with leaded glass, and the vestibule,
crush room, stall entrance, and passages outside the auditorium are deco-
rated in Pompeian style ; the royal room is panelled on walls and ceiling
with wood mouldings and carton-pierre in the Adams' style, the colours
being blue, white, and platinum. The walls have Venetian mirrors in the
centre of panels.
The stall foyer and smoking room is an imitation of an early Dutch
interior. The whole of the building is heated by hot water. The greatest
credit is due to Messrs. Campbell, Smith, and Co. for the tasteful
manner in which they have carried out the decorations from their own
designs. Messrs. Clark, Burnett, and Co. furnished the iron-protected
curtain, and Messrs. Shoolbred supplied the handsome furniture, drapery,
upholstery, &c. The progress of the work was energetically watched by
Mr. M. Levenston, the proprietor's trusted business manager.
"THE SILVER FALLS."
New and original Drama in four acts, by GEORGE R. SIMS and HENRY PETTITT.
Eric Xormanhurst
Marcos Valles . .
Jack Sling sby ..
Bob Maguire . .
Dick Redmayne
Lord Avondale
Josc§
Sheriff Dixon ..
Inspector Robjohn
Tennessee Bill..
Yokohama Joe..
First produced at the Adelphi Theatre, December 22, 1888.
Mr. WILLIAM TERRISS.
Mr. CHARLES CART-
WRIGHT.
Mr. J. L. SHINE.
Mr. J. D. BEVERIDGE.
Mr. ROYCE CARLETON.
Mr. J. CARNE.
Mr. CHARLES EATON.
Mr. WILLIAMS.
Mr. HOWARD RUSSELL.
Mr. EARDLEY TURNER.
Mr. JAMES EAST.
Seth
Slim Jim
Rodriguez
Diego
Mr. VAUGHAN.
Mr. DOUGLAS.
Mr. STEVENS.
Mr R. PRINCE.
Ramon
Lopez
Mr. HARRIS.
Mr. H. COOPER.
Primrose Easter
brook
Lola
Norah
Slim Jim's Wife .
Marie . .
Miss MlLLWARD.
Miss OLGA NETHERSOI.E.
Miss CLARA JECKS.
Miss GEORGIE ESMOND.
. MiSsADRIENNEDAIROLLES
It is rather contrary to the usual order of things at the Adelphi that the
fortunes of the evil characters of the play should be followed with even keener
interest than the illused hero and his trusting sweetheart, yet such is the
case in Messrs. Sims and Pettitt's last success. This can only be ac-
counted for from the fact that the adventuress Lola is so bold and yet so
fascinating in her wickedness, and that the suspected murderer Marcos
Valles has more than one redeeming point — he loves with a blind passion
the woman who betrays him, and he has a nobility of soul that makes him
repair as far as lies in his power the wrong he has done to one whom he
imagined was his enemy. As briefly as it can be told the plot runs thus :
Lola, an abandoned creature, has in Mexico been the mistress of Marcos
Valles. Tiring of him, she comes to Europe, and there, her past unknown,
she wins the love of Eric Normanhurst, an honest young English fellow
of good family, who makes her his wife. Marcos at length tracks her to
her home and implores her to return to him, but she hungers for the position
98
THE THEATRE.
[FEB. i, 1889-
of a lady, and so through the agency of Dick Redmayne, a former associate
of hers, Marcos is handed over to justice for complicity in robbery and
murder. Eric's uncle, Lord Avondale, is informed of his nephew's marriage,
and has made such inquiries as to Lola's antecedents that he soon con-
vinces his nephew what a wanton he has taken to himself, and so the young
fellow then and there leaves her, amply providing for her, but hoping never
to look on her again, and this brings the curtain down on a very powerful
first act. Three years elapse, and we are then transported to the mining
districts of Mexico. Eric having met with a serious accident is nursed back
to life by Primrose Easterbrook (a charmingly drawn character very sweetly
filled by Miss Millward). They fall in love, but, prompted by honourable
feelings, Eric is about to leave her, when Redmayne, who is also attached
to Primrose, but is disliked by her, to gratify
his revenge leads Eric to believe that Lola
is dead. So Eric and Primrose are wed,
and are arrived at their own home. Bob
Maguire, her uncle (a genial Irishman
capitally played by Mr. Beveridge), is return-
ing to his house, and Eric will see him part
of the way home. During his absence a
travel-worn woman craves shelter ; it is given
her, and on Eric's return he is horrified to
find that the wayfarer is Lola. He contrives
, to keep the secret from Primrose, and agrees
1 to meet Lola next day, he himself rushing
off on the plea that he has been called out
to join a vigilance committee. At the tryst-
ing-place, "Three Pine Gulch," Lola is
awaiting Eric, when Redmayne warns her
that Valles is on her track. She says that
she does not fear him ; she has given him
to the lav/ once and she will do so again if
he thwarts her. As soon as she is alone
Valles comes from his hiding-place : he has
overheard all, he learns the utter baseness of the creature he has adored,
and, though she pleads for mercy, he stabs her to death, and then, when he
discovers that he has done his work but too well, sinks upon her corpse over-
whelmed with grief and forgiveness for her. The death of Lola clears the
path for the happiness of Eric and Primrose, who, from a letter received
from Lord Avondale, we learn is to be welcomed to England, and Red-
mayne for his numerous treacheries is dragged forth to be lynched.
Marcos Valles gives himself up for the murder of Lola, clearing Eric of the
suspicion which Redmayne had endeavoured to fix upon him. The loves
of Jack Slingsby and his sweetheart, afterwards wife, Norah, give the
comedy scenes, to which Mr. Shine and clever Miss Jecks lend their
valuable aid. Mr. Terriss was earnest, but missed a great opportunity in
I1 F.I;. I I
OUR PLAY-BOX.
99
the third act, where he encounters the wife whom he believed to be dead.
Mr. Charles Cartwright, in a comparatively new line to him — for there is
a vein of romance and passion running through all his part — was never
seen to such advantage ; he and Miss Nethersole, who displayed a power
and an insight into the character of Lola that astonished her audience,
fair!)- earned the honours of the evening, and were awarded a special call.
Mr. Royce Carleton was excellent as Redmayne, a more hardy villain
than he generally portrays, and Miss Adrienne Dairolles, though with
only a small part, played it effectively. The general cast was good
(Mr. Eardley Turner distinguished himself as Tennessee Bill), the
scenery was beautiful, and the authors had done their work so well
that they were summoned most heartily to bow their acknowledgments.
There is little doubt but that "The Silver Falls" will fill the Adelphi for
months to come.
Wybert Romayne . .
Major Jasper Elden
Lieut. Frank Elden .
Professor Doremeso
Sharp
M. Victor Dulpuis .
Jansen Garnet
Edna Garnet..
Mrs. Major Elden ..
Miss Vluin
" BOB."
Three-act Play, by FRED MARSDEN.
Produced for the first time in London at the Jodrell Theatre December 26, 1888.
Mr. WILLIAM FARREN, JR. ! Miss Rich
Mr. FRED MERVIN. MissVolney
Mr. WALLACE ERSKINE. | Miss Parker
i Miss Gleason
Miss Smith
Mr. WILLIAM FRIEND.
Mr. JOHN W. DUNNE.
Mr. THOS. H. M'GRATii.
Miss AMY MCXEILL.
Miss ELSIE CAREW.
Mrs. JULIA BRUTONE.
Miss Carter
Miss Graham
Miss Higgins
Bob .. ..
Miss MABEL HARDINQE.
Miss EVA JOHNS-TONE.
Miss MAUD BURNAND.
Miss ETHEL RICHARDSON.
Miss MAY BROWNING.
Miss KITTY ROGERS.
Miss Flo Jennings.
Miss IRENE VALROY
PATTI ROSA.
" Bob " is the nickname given to Robertha for her tomboy propensities.
Brought up in the colonies and summoned to England by her stepfather
ioo THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
to be educated and trained in a civilised manner, she proves herself to be
" a wild flower transplanted to a conservatory," but a very sweet wild
flower, for with all her love of mischief, her mimicry of her schoolmistress,
and her egging her companions on to all sorts of enormities, she is always
a little lady and a noble one, as she afterwards proves by beggaring
herself in asserting the rights of a girl whom she almost fancies is her
rival, and likely to take from her a young lieutenant on whom she has
set her heart, and who fortunately really cares for her. Of plot there is
but little ; the piece is essentially of the American " variety show " order,
and written to bring out the special qualifications of a particular actress.
Miss Patti Rosa, who made her debut in London as Bob, created a most
favourable impression. She is undoubtedly clever, is pretty, graceful, and
ladylike, sings well, dances well, and plays the banjo well, has a distinct
humour of her own, and shows aptitude in the various sides of the
character she undertakes. Miss Rosa has good support. Mr. Fred
Mervin is very amusing as a choleric major who snubs his meek wife.
Mr. William Farren, jun., gave a finished picture of the scheming, deceitful
Wybert Romayne, the stepfather. Mr. William Friend was original and
droll as the Professor, and will decidedly make his mark in London.
Mr. John W. Dunne as a dishonourable plotting French scoundrel also
deserves favourable mention ; and Miss Amy M'Neill was gentle and
pathetic as Edna Garnet, the girl whom Romayne tries to despoil of her
property. Mr. Wallace Erskine was a chivalrous, frank young militaire"
"Bob" was preceded by "Apollo, M.D.,"aweak production by Sir
Randall Roberts, played for the first time, but which did not meet with
approval. CECIL HOWARD.
"MACBETH."
SHAKESPEARE'S Tragedy in six acts and twentyone scenes.
Revived at the Lyceum Theatre, Saturday, December 29, 1888.
Duncan Mr. HAVILAND. | A Sergeant Mr. RAYNOR.
Malcolm Mr. WEBSTER. A Porter . .. Mr. JOHNSON.
Donalbain
Macbeth
Banqno . ,
Macduff
Lennox: ..
Ross
Mr. HARVEY.
Mr. HENRY IRVING.
Mr. WENMAN.
Mr. ALEXANDER.
Mr. OOTRAM.
Mr. TYARS.
Menteith Mr. ARCHER.
Angus Mr. LACY.
Caithness Mr. LEVERTON.
Fleance Master HARWOOD.
Siward Mr. HOWE.
Seyton Mi-. FENTON.
Toother Officers .. . . -J Jg; gJgSTOCK-
A Doctor . Mr. STUART.
A Messenger Mr. COVENEY.
An Attendant Mr. ROE.
Murderers {
Gentlewoman Miss COLERIDGE.
A Servant Miss FOSTER.
Lady Macbeth (for the first
time) ' Miss ELLEN TERRY.
Heoate Miss IVOR.
1st Witch Miss MARRIOTT.
2nd Witch Miss DESBOROUGH.
3rd Witch Miss SEAMAN.
f Mr. BAIRD.
Apparitions \ Miss HARWOOD.
I Miss HOLLAND.
Lords. Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Attendants, Messengers, Apparitions, &c.
The Overture, Preludes, and Incidental Music composed expressly by ARTHUR SULLIVAN.
The following music was composed expressly for the play :— Overture ; Act I., Incidental Music;
- Act II.. Prelude; Act III., Prelude and Incidental Music; Act IV., Incidental Music with
Chorus : Act V., Prelude -f Act VI., Prelude and Incidental Music.
During the intervals between the a«ts the following selections from Artlrir Sullivan's Shakespearian
music were performed : — Between Acts I. and II., Water Music ("Henry VIII.") ; between Acts II.
and III., Martial Introduction ("Henry VIII."); between Acts III. and IV., Prelude to the
Fifth Act (" The Tempest '•').
The remarkable representation of Macbeth given at the Lyceum has
Iready engendered an amount of description and discussion that would
FEB. i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 101
almost fill a small volume. Much of this is engrossed by criticism on the
conception of their characters taken by the two leading performers, which,
it is insisted, amounts to the abolishing of the old heroic reading.
The Scotch chieftain and his
lady are shown, not simply as mere
human, but almost creatures of
necessity, subservient to the pres-
sure of a weak, nerveless nature in
the one case, and of a devoted
conjugal affection in the other. It
would need a Hazlitt, or a Lamb,
or a Coleridge, to discuss this
question in satisfactory style; but
what a testimony to the depth and
largeness of our great poet's charac-
ters that such a disquisition should ji
become reasonable, or possible! jj
The two great performers, it may
be said, were perfectly consistent
and homogeneous in their inter-
pretation, and the issue corresponded to their intention. Miss Terry's more
feminine conception is supported in a remarkable way by the incident of
Lady Macbeth fainting on the dis-
covery of the murder. No ingenuity
can get over this inconsistency ; and
performers who have adopted the
heroic masculine view have turned the
difficulty by leaving the passage out
altogether. The performer is wise
indeed who follows the light of his
own inspirations. Any adapted inter-
pretation, however correct, will have
an artificial air, and carry no convic-
tion to the audiences. On a first
night particular effects are more em-
ployed than is originally intended, but
with repetition comes modulation as
it were, and more reserve. Both were,
beyond dispute, fine, striking, very
original, and interesting performances.
One of the most striking situations,,
and where they were at their best, was
the almost agonising moment of pre-
paration for the murder. There was
here the unceitainty, the feverish hurry, the sense that the opportunity, if
not seized now, would be gone : the general impression of midnight, the
102
THE THEATRE.
[FEB. I, 1889.
castle all at rest, and the king asleep close by. The sense of impending
crime was in the air. In conveying such general impressions as these,
without the aid of speech, the Lyceum management is unrivalled. It shows
thelrue dramatic instinct.
The ghost has been much criticised, and it is certainly a crux of extraor-
dinary, if not of insurmountable difficulty.
Some would have him present to the " mind's
eye " alone — a cutting of the gordian knot.
An actor in the flesh is unghostly enough ;
spectral illusion suggests the magic lantern
of the late Pepper. Ascending through the
floor must suggest the agency of ascent, " the
harmless necessary" trap. The solution
lies, I fancy, in making the figure misty,
more or less, revealing him gradually, and
there is some agency of gauzes by which
this can be done. Were he at the other side
of the table he would be more tractable.
The other performers were excellent in
their way. Duncan exhibits proper senility,
with a sort of feebleness, even to the quaver-
ing tones of his voice, which added to the
enormity of the crime perpetrated on his
helpless person. Mr. Alexander was a
valiant, solid Macduff, without any of the
declamation (and often ranting) associated
with his character. Banquo was efficient.
All kept a due reserve. No one was blatant. The witches were performed
by ladies, for the first time it is said.
As for the scenery, all previous efforts have been excelled. A new drop
scene has been supplied, representing simple amber draperies hanging in
rich folds, the^work of Telbin, an admirable artist. There are no less than
nineteen distinct scenes, each of which is a study for originality. Two of
these are extraordinary efforts, perfect triumphs of constructed or "built-
up" stage architecture. We have " The Court of Macbeth's Castle," with
its corner tower and massive gallery running round, and mysterious
looking portal. At the side is seen a winding stair leading to Duncan's
chamber, which furnishes Lady Macbeth and her guilty mate with some
picturesque and appropriate " business/' hesitation and reluctance, as, with
tottering steps and glances back, they ascend, and are gradually lost to view.
It would be difficult to say how much is suggested by this arrangement.
Something of the same sense of guilt and mystery is experienced as the
visitor ascends the winding stairs in the Tower of London. The confusion
of the night alarm on the discovery rouses all the retainers, who are seen
crowding out on the gallery with torches, and looking down with eager eyes
into the hall. All this .is legitimate illustration, and is indeed conveyed in
FEB. i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 103
'-'
the text. The other scene is the great Banqueting Hall ; the table for
the feast being drawn across the centre, with such detail and " admired
disorder" as to suggest a confused crowd of guests, abundance of
barbarous fare ; a wonderful reform of the old system, when a bald table and
a few so-called " goblets " supplied the idea of a banquet. In the old dis-
pensation the property man did everything, literally and upon his oath, as
Lamb would say, and coldly famished forth the table. Another scene,
conceived in a happy spirit of illustration, was the arrival of^the King
with his retinue at the gate of Macbeth's castle, and the description of its
inviting calm and tranquillity has always seemed one of the most exquisite
passages. The smiling paysage, the balmy air, the innocent look of the
hospitable mansion, were intended to contrast with the black deed that was
me Jitated, and no more perfect realisation of the spirit of the scene could
be imagined. As the scene revealed itself, the old snug-looking castle
seemed to repose in the sun, the balmy gentle breezes to be wafted across
the distant champaign. Then the travellers came up, ascending from
below in dropping fashion, and pleased with the aspect of their newly
reached shelter ; so that naturally and most appropriately one of the party
gives expression to the well-known beautiful lines —
"This castle hath a pleasant seat."
Thus is shown the mode in which scenery should aid the interpretation.
Another remarkable set piece is that of the witches' cavern, truly picturesque,
and which also interprets the situation. Sheltered in a corner, behind a great
hill or mountain, the hags pursue their work, while Macbeth surveys their
proceedings from the opposite side, as though he had surprised them.
There is an impressive air of chilling mystery, not untinged with melancholy,
in the ghostly passage of the Kings— grey shadowy things. I could dwell
long on the series of fine characteristic landscapes, painted in a bold striking
fashion, and which express now Scotch, now English scenes, in the most
forcible way, set off with strange atmospheric effects — witness the patch of
water on which the light shines. Mr. Craven would surely make his mark
as a painter " an he listed," and indeed the stage is an admirable school
for breadth of style and effect, as Stanfield proves. More remarkable in
these efforts is the absence of the conventional treatment of landscape. It
may be added here, in opposition to Mr. Telbin's view, set out in the
current number of the " Art Magazine," that the scenes here painted on
" cloths " are even more effective and realistic than the " modelled " or
built-up structures.
The dresses it would be vain to praise. They are all in a low " key," as
it may be termed — dull browns and dust colour. Miss Terry's rich and
beautiful combination, with a tint of the Japanese, was, as the French
have it, of a " seizing " kind. We have seldom seen anything more effective
for its purpose. One little point may be noted to show the judiciousness
with which tragic effect has been sought. Usually " the daggers " are
IO4
THE THEATRE.
[FEB. i, 1889.
mean little skewer-like weapons, which suggest a vulgar " sticking," here
they are formidable knives, of a barbarous and efficient kind.
PERCY FITZGERALD.
"FIRST MATE."
Comedy-Drama, in two acts, by RICHARD HENRY.
First produced at the Gaiety Theatre, December 31, 1888.
Letty Lansdell
Fred Finch . .
Brogden
Slive
Miss JENNY MCNULTY.
Mr. GEORGE STONE.
Mr. E. H. HASLEM.
Mr. C. WALKER.
Jack Braddock .. .. Mr. HARRY PARKER.
Jack (his son) .. .. Mr. H. GRAHAM.
Deborah Miss MARIE ILLINGTON.
Mrs. Braddock .. .. Miss MARIA JONES.
Mr. George Edwardes moves with the times, and provides for the early
attendants at his theatre something that is fresh and enjoyable, and such
is Richard Henry's comedy-drama. Pleasantly interweaving grave and
gay, the piece goes from start to finish briskly, and thoroughly interests
the audience. Jack Braddock, a sailor, Letty Lansdell's sweetheart, has
left in his sister Deborah's care a hundred pounds. Letty's home is likely
to be sold up by Brogden out of spite for the rejection of his suit by
Letty, so Deborah comes forward and saves her friend. By so doing she
is unable to assist the elder Braddock, her father, a cheery old salt, who has
turned farmer, and who has relied on this money to pay his rent, also due
to the vengeful Brogden. Further trouble appears to have fallen upon the
family from the report that young Jack has been killed when just reaching
port. But things end happily. Brogden, the stony-hearted, relents, Jack
turns up safe and sound, and Deborah, nicknamed " First Mate " from her
being her father's right hand, promises to give that hand to Fred Finch,
an amusing dog, a lawyer's clerk with an unfortunate propensity for betting
on any event, an evil practice which he promises to forego. Mr. George
Stone was genuinely funny in this character. Mr. Harry Parker was a
genial old fellow as Braddock, with some rough touches of pathos that were
very natural. Miss Marie Illington was a natural honest-hearted English
girl as Deborah, and carried the piece along on the top of the wave. Mr.
Haslem played well as Brogden, and Miss Jenny McNulty was a pretty
Letty Lansdell.
On this night Miss Violet Cameron assumed the title-r&fc in " Faust up
to Date," and was cordially received. Other changes in the cast have been
introduced. Mr. Harry Parker makes quite a feature of the Lord
Chancellor, and has an excellent topical duet, " I take an objection to
that," by Robert Martin, with Mephistopheles. Mr. E. H. Haslem now
plays Old Faust, and Miss Fanny Robina Siebel. Miss St. John has
another new song, fresh dances have been added, and Messrs. Sims and
Pettitt's burlesque is even brighter than it was originally.
1 !;
f 1
1
- J:
II
FEB.
1889.]
OUR PLAY-BOX.
'"
"PAUL JONES."
107
i )j.« r;i Comique, in three acts, after CHIVOT and DURU, written by H. B. FAKNIK.
First produced in London at the Prlrfce of iWales's Theatre, January 2, 1889.
Paul Jones .. .. Miss AGNES HUNTINGDON.
Ruflno de Martinez Mr. TKMPLKR SAXE.
Mr. HENRY ASHLEY.
Bicoquet ..
Don Trocadero
Kestrel . . . .
Bouillabaisse
Petit Pierre . .
First Lieutenant
Chopinette
Malaguena
Ouava ..
Captain Octroi
Yvonne .
Delphine
Nichette
Mr. FRANK WYATT.
Mr. HKNDON.
Mr. HARRY MONKHOUSE.
Mr. ALBERT JAMKS.
Mr. GKORGK PRESTON.
Miss PHYLLIS BROUGHTON.
Miss KATE CUTLER.
Miss MIMI ST. CYR.
Miss JEANNIE MILES.
Miss WADMAN.
Miss FLORENCE WILTON.
Miss KITZHERBERT.
Mignonne
Estelle .. ..
Ramez . .
Don Antonio
Jeanne de Kerbe
Coralie .. ..
Alva . .
. Miss FORBBS.
. Miss GLADYS KNOWLBS.
. Mr. SHALK.
. Mr. PEARCE.
c Miss STANFORD.
. Miss DASHWOOD.
Miss MINNIE HOWE.
Fernando
Marion .. ..
Gougon .. ..
Don Riboso . .
Louise de la Fort
ValdePenas..
Maroona.. ..
. Miss GWYNNE.
. Mr. S»W:ON. •
. Mr. R. MAsnv
. Mr. BOTTRILL.
• Miss BELL.
. Miss DOUGLAS.
. Miss LILLIE LEVINE.
After being closed for a short interval, which was devoted to the general
re-embellishment of the house, Mr. Horace Sedger re-opened his theatre
with "Paul Jones," produced by the " Carl Rosa Light Opera Company."
This " opera comique," as it is termed in the programmes, was originally
played with a prologue at the Folies Draraatiques, Paris, October 6, 1887,
under the title of " Surcouf." Mr. H. B. Farnie, as is his wont, has freely
adapted the libretto of MM. Chivct and Duru, and made his book a fairly
amusing one. Though there is not anything wonderfully original in the
story, yet it serves its purpose. The hero Paul Jones and Yvonne, the
daughter of Bicoquet, a ship chandler of St.
Malo, are desperately in love with each other,
but her father intends her for Rufino, a Spanish
grandee. However he promises to give his con-
sent to the union if at the end of three years-
Paul can return with a fortune 'of a million
francs. So Paul volunteers on board an American
privateer with his cronies, Bouillabaisse, an old
smuggler (who is only too glad to escape from
his young and pretty but termagant wife, Cho-
pinette), and Petit Pierre, who forms one of
the party. In Act II., after a lapse of three
years, Malaguena, Rufino's sister, has married
old Bicoquet, and is pressing forward the be-
trothal of Yvonne and her brother : Paul Jones C '
arrives just in the nick of time with the fortune he has amassed
as captain of the United States corvette, the " Bon Homme Richard,"
and is challenged to a duel by Rufino. This is only a pretence,
however, for Paul is made prisoner and carried off in Rufino's frigate
to the island of Estrella in the West Indies, where the marriage
between Rufino and Yvonne is to be solemnised. Act III. in the island
introduces Trocadero, the Governor, whose peace of mind has been
constantly disturbed by Paul Jones's squadron. He is delighted, therefore,
to hear that the rover has been captured, and gives a fete on the island.
Paul, however, escapes, and to see Yvonne daringly enters the Governor's
house. Fortunately Trocadero mistakes him for Bicoquet, and pays him
io8
THE THEATRE.
FEB. i, 1889.
every attention, and when Bicoquet arrives he is gagged and imprisoned
for Paul Jones, Malaguena, who finds she owes a deep debt of gratitude
to the latter, aiding in the deception. Bouillabaisse and Petit Pierre have
escaped to their ship, and to obtain the release of their commander
disguise themselves as the savage king of the neighbouring island of
Mosquito and his son, who are expected on a political visit. They thus
obtain admittance to the palace, and, with the aid of the American crew
that has landed, overcome the Spaniards and free Paul Jones, who carries
off Yvonne.
The opening night will be a memorable one as being that on which
Miss Agnes Huntingdon made her debut on the lyric stage in London,
though she had been heard some six years ago at a concert given by
M. Ganz. Since then Miss Huntingdon has made a reputation with
the " Boston Ideals," and been favourably
received in Germany and Paris. Very tall
but graceful, with prepossessing features and
a handsome stage presence, Miss Huntingdon
possesses an exceptionally charming contralto
voice, and excellent method and style. She
'at once established herself as a favourite, and
her success increased as the evening wore
on, one air, " Ever and ever thine," a gem in
the opera, being specially redemanded, and at
the final fall of the curtain it was evident that
Miss Huntingdon had made the hit of the
season. Miss Wadman acquitted herself well
as Yvonne. Mr. Henry Ashley showed some
humour as Bicoquet, and Messrs. Harry
Monkhouse and Albert James were very droll
in their parts. It was universally regretted
that Mr. Frank Wyatt was not seen till the
third act as Trocadero, so much life and spirit
did he infuse into the scene by his singing
of " Open the council now," and his dancing
and acting afterwards. Miss Phyllis Broughton
has a bright lilting air to sing, " He looked at my sabots," to which her
voice unfortunately was not equal, but the favourite actress redeemed any
shortcomings by her exquisite dancing of a " Bourre'e." Miss Kate Cutler
was a decidedly attractive Malaguena, and the minor parts were well
filled, the choruses being specially well rendered.
Though perhaps not altogether so attractive as the " Cloches de
Corneville," M. Planquette's music in " Paul Jones " is very melodious,
and gains upon one. The opera was superbly mounted ; the dresses by
Alias were marvels of beauty, richness, and taste ; the orchestra, under
Mr. Stanislaus, was a well-selected one, and the principals, the composer,
Mr. Sedger and Mr. Carl Rosa, acknowledged the persistent calls. " Paul
Jones " promises to have a run.
FEB. i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 109
•"
"THAT DOCTOR CUPID."
New and Fantastic Comedy in three acts, by ROBERT BUCHANAN.
First produced at the Vaudeville Theatre, Monday afternoon, January 14, 1889.
*ir Timothv Racket
Harry Rark>-t
irry
iarli
Charles Ksirlow
Barney O'Shea
Lord Fungus
Plastic.. ..
('..•an King..
Mr. FHIDHKIOK THORNE.
Mr. FKANK (JILMORK.
Mr. CY mi, MAUDE.
Mr. J. WHEATMAN.
Mr. SCOTT Bui ST.
Mr. PAGDEN.
Mr. F. GROVK.
Dr. Cupid .. .. Mr. THOMAS TIIOKNK.
Miss Bridget Con-
stant Miss F. ROBERTSON.
Mrs. Veale .. .. Miss DOLORKS DRUMMONU.
Mrs. Bliss .. .. Miss MARION LBA.
Kate Constant .. Miss WINIKRKD KMKHY.
If continuous laughter is any proof of a success, Mr.^horne has surely
secured one in "That Doctor Cupid." Mr. Buchanan has rightly named
his comedy fantastic, for it combines the supernatural with the every-day
life of the beginning of this century. Whether the general public will be
attracted by this strange mixture, which at times reminds us of "The
Bottle Imp," "Creatures of Impulse," and even "The Sorcerer," remains
to be proved. Certainly the author sprung his mine for the introduction
of the supernatural in a deft and clever manner. The scene opens in
Harry Racket's rooms at Cambridge. Their occupier is a young gentleman
who has devoted his time to drinking and gambling, and has been com-
pelled to have recourse to money-lenders. One of them, Plastic, has been
summoned to supply his necessities, and advances him ^200 on the con-
dition that he purchases certain articles. These are duly sent in, and
prove to be various stuffed beasts, birds, skulls, and sundry specimens
preserved in spirits of wine in bottles. Harry is engaged to Kate Constant,
a charming, artless girl, who evidently prefers a dashing fellow of those
days to a milksop, and has given him all her heart. She calls with her
aunt, Miss Bridget, just when Harry has heard from his uncle, Sir Timothy,
a gouty hypochondriac, that he has discarded him on account of the evil
reports of him. Kate declares she will be true to him despite all his mis-
fortunes, but her aunt jumps at Harry's generous offer to release her from
her engagement so that she may marry the rich Lord Fungus. When they
are gone Harry looks round on the bill discounter's rubbish, and takes up
a bottle to which is attached a label bearing a Latin inscription, that love
conquers the world, but science conquers love. Harry says it is wealth
that conquers love, and in a fit of rage dashes the bottle into the fireplace,
a crash is heard, and there appears a strange figure dressed in Elizabethan
costume, who announces himself as Love. He tells how, having fallen from
high Olympus, he became an imp, and that an alchemist of Queen
Elizabeth's day had entrapped him, and sealed him down in the bottle. As a
recompense to Harry for freeing him, he offers him his services; though he
cannot give him wealth, he will, by his power over all creatures animate,
bring him good luck, and secure him his uncle's good graces and his
sweetheart's hand. And so they fly off to Bath, whither Kate is gone with
her aunt, and where also is staying for the benefit of the waters Sir Timothy
Racket, attended by his sycophantic, wheedling nurse, Mrs. Veale, whom
he thinks of marrying. Here Doctor Cupid, introduced by Harry as his
tutor, proceeds to try and put matters straight for his pupil, but Cupid is so
elated by his release from long confinement that he mismanages matters.
no THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
Possessed of his invisible bow and arrows, he shoots his darts astray. He
makes Mrs. Bliss a comely young widow, whom Charles Farlow, Harry's
friend, has been worshipping for years, fall in love with Harry, so does
Mrs. Veale, so. does Miss Bridget, until at last Kate is bound to believe
that her lover is a deceiver, and accepts Lord Fungus. Doctor Cupid
is dismissed in disgrace and with a curse, but he will not accept his dis-
missal till he has mended affairs, so in the third act he draws the current
of love of all the ladies on himself in a most amusing scene, and then
diverts their affection into its proper channels. Kate is reconciled to
Harry, Mrs. Bliss to Farlow, the duplicity of Mrs. Veale is unmasked, and
Sir Timothy is cured of his ailments, and taught that the true happiness of
the old is not in selfish matrimony for themselves, but in witnessing its
blissful results in the young. Taking the characters as they stand in the
programme that deserve special mention, Mr. Frederick Thorne was
excellent as the irascible gouty Sir Timothy, and gave some charming
little touches, particularly when Kate intercedes for her lover. Mr.
Frank Gilmore was a fine, impulsive young fellow as Harry Racket, and
shows that he is rapidly advancing in his profession. Mr. Cyril Maude's
characterisation of Charles Farlow, a stuttering beau, was a perfect gem
in acting, and Mr. Thomas Thorne was full of high spirits and dry
humour as Doctor Cupid. In the third act, when he is scarcely absent
from the stage, his " go " and vivacity were irresistible. Miss F.
Robertson played well as a maiden lady of a certain age. Miss Dolores
Drummond hit off to a nicety the fawning, deceitful attendant on Sir
Timothy, and forcibly betrayed her real character when exposed through
Doctor Cupid's spells. Pretty Miss Marion Lea was a captivating Widow-
Bliss, and Miss Winifred Emery was a frank, loving girl as Kate
Constant. I was sorry to see Mr. Scott Buist had not more to do as
Lord Fungus ; he was thrown away on so small a part, and one which
gave him no opportunities. Mr. F. Grove did not quite picture to us Beau
King. Messrs. Nathan must be complimented on the costumes, which,
designed by Karl, brought before us so vividly the appearance of our
dandies and ball-room belles when George was King, and King ruled over
Bath. " That Doctor Cupid " was placed in the evening bill on Thursday,
January 17, 1889.
" STILL WATERS RUN DEEP/'
Comedy, in three acts, by TOM TAYLOR.
Revived on January 19, 1889, at the Criterion Theatre.
John Mildmay . . . . Mr. CHARLES WYNDHAM.
Captain Hawksley . . Mr. HERBKRT STANDING.
Mr. Potter Mr. WILLIAM BLAKELEY.
Danbilk Mr. GEORGE GIDDENS.
Langford Mr. E. EMERY.
Markham Mr. S. HEWSON.
Jessop Mr. G. B. PHILLIPS.
Mrs. Mildmay . . . . Miss MARY MOORE.
Gimlet Mr. E. DAGNALL. | Mrs. Sternhold . . .. Mrs. BERNARD BEERB.
" Still Waters Run Deep," one of the best plays that the late Tom Taylor
ever wrote, was first produced at the Olympic nearly thirty-four years ago
(May 15, 1855). Mr. Alfred Wigan made a name as John Mildmay, Mr.
George. Vining was highly spoken of as Captain Hawksley, as were Mr. S.
FEB. i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. in
-
Emery as Mr. Potter, Miss Maskell as Mrs. Mildmay, and Mrs. "Melfort"
as Mrs. Sternhold. In those days and in most subsequent representations the
latter character has been represented as an almost puritanical woman,
though strong-minded, as one to whom the loss of her good name would be
more bitter and ruinous than to an ordinary human being, and John
Mildmay's " Villa at Brompton " gave one the idea of that of a man in
comfortable, but not extraordinarily affluent circumstances. Butwe must have
new readings of plays nowadays, and so at the CriterioB^the modest villa is
changed into a luxurious " boudoir," with all the wealth of colour and
ornament that Messrs. Liberty can introduce. Japanese monsters, china
plates, and etchings adorn the shelves and walls, and Mrs. Sternhold and
Mrs. Mildmay are in keeping with their surroundings, and appear in
" Worth " costumes that only the richest could command. A corresponding
change takes place in the character of Mrs. Sternhold. She is evidently a
society dame, fearing the scandal that would arise from the fact that it
would probably depose her from being a leader in the set among which she
moves, and she rules Mildmay's household not so much from a domineer-
ing spirit as that from her doing so she will be able to make sure that
only her own favourites shall be received as visitors. In the last act, too,
Mildmay does not prove his courage when challenged by Hawksley by
offering to fight him across a handkerchief with only one pistol loaded.
Yet with these changes the play is so well written that all seemed per-
fectly natural. Mr. VVyndham perhaps took John Mildmay at rather too
slow a measure, the result probably of nervousness that will wear off,
but gave an excellent idea of a shrewd man with a cool head and a
warm heart, content to bide his time till the proper moment arrived to
assert himself, and tben proving equal to the occasion, and with a deep
abiding affection for the woman to whom he has given his love. Mrs.
Bernard Beere's reading of Mrs, Sternhold was quite original, but lost none
of its force through that. Her self-contempt at having thrown her love
away on such a despicable creature as Hawksley was finely expressed, and
certainly her great scene with the forging adventurer has never been more
perfectly played. Mr. Herbert Standing, too, in outwardly faultless get-up,
was very good, not only in the scene with Mrs. Sternhold, but in the second
act in his interview with Mildmay, and his detection by and submission to
the stronger mind and hand. Miss Mary Moore, looking very lovely, fitly
conveyed the impression of a weak, loving nature that could easily be
imposed upon by the admiration of a romantic-looking, plausible admirer.
Mr. W. Blakeley did well as Potter, the doddering old gentleman with
such an intense reverence for his stronger-minded sister, until the third act,
and then he rather caricatured the part. The remainder of the cast was
thoroughly efficient.
"A Pretty Piece of Business/' by Thomas Morton, a comedietta of the
old-fashioned school, was merrily rattled through by Mr. E. Emery and
Miss Rose Saker. Mr. George Giddens gave a clever sketch of the
nervous, retiring Dr. Shee, Miss Fanny Moore looked pretty as Miss
H2 THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
Charlotte Shee, and Miss Emi-ly Vining was amusing as Dobson, the
slavey, though her get-up was a little extravagant for such a household.
During the short reces^ the Criterion Theatre has been redecorated in the
most perfect taste, and looked charming. The panels of quilted crushed
strawberry silk, and the hangings and upholstery to correspond, reflect the
greatest credit on Messrs. Campbell, Smith, and Co., who designed the
work, and on Messrs. Maple and Co., who furnished the upholstery. A
very fashionable audience was present, including the Duke and Duchess of
Teck, Lord Londesborough, Lady Randolph Churchill, the millionaire
Colonel North and his very lovely daughter, and a host of celebrities.
CECIL HOWARD.
A Glance Round the Galleries.
HE twenty exhibitions of works by the Old Masters that have
been held at Burlington House would, one would almost
suppose, have exhausted our national stock, but as year after
year goes by we are astonished at the many priceless works
never before exhibited. Apart from the general excellence of
this year's collection, apart from the magnificent Rembrandts
and beautiful Watteaus, a melancholy interest attaches to it,
for on the walls of two galleries hang the works of one who a year ago was
painting in our midst, and transferring to canvas the great men around us.
Death has removed Frank Holl from us in the prime of his life and at the
matured height of his power, but by dint of unceasing activity he has left
us a grand legacy, a portion of which is now to be seen. Deeply interesting
are the subject pictures painted before he devoted all his attention to por-
traits, and containing immense dramatic power, strength of design, and
affecting pathos. " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed
be the name of the Lord," is the title of the picture that won the painter
the Royal Academy Travelling Studentship in 1868, and the prize was
worthily bestowed. The solemn tragedy, the unutterable pent-up grief that
are depicted in the faces of the bereaved ones, arrest your attention at once.
Frank Holl had the rare faculty that genius has of redeeming the common-
place in life by triumph of art, and " Want — The Pawnbroker's Shop " is a
powerful instance in point. The sad girl with the child in her arms is the
centre of interest, and the clothes on the counter, the callous broker behind,
and his assistant, tell graphically the mournful tale. The handling of the
background and -the subserviency of the details are masterly managed.
"No Tidings from the Sea,." ." Newgate," and " Gone " alone would have
made the painter famous, while " Hush '' and " Hushed " show his tender
FEB. i, i889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 113
poetic feeling. Out of the fine selection of portraits it is difficult to allude
in a brief notice to even the principal ones, but for power of painting,
mastery of brush work, and strength of likeness, the portrait of the Duke of
Cleveland is perhaps the most remarkable. Those of Lord Trevelyan, Lord
Spencer, and Captain Alexander Mitchell Sim are worthy examples of
portrait painting.
To the Queen, Sir Richard Wallace, and the Earl of Ilchester especially
we are indebted for some magnificent Rembrandts, jirhich are alone worth
a visit. The " Portrait of the Painter" by himself is a marvel of genius,
as are also the Queen's ''Portrait of a Lady" and the famous Mother.
Sir Richard Wallace and Mr. Alfred de Rothschild lend a most interesting
collection of pictures by Watteau, Nicholas, and Lancret, of whose works
the National Gallery is so bare. A charm, grace, and exquisite delicacy
mark all Watteau's subjects, and their beauty makes us indifferent to the
artificiality of style and life they portray. They are things of beauty, and
that is sufficient. Jan Steen, Hobbema, Wouverman, Romney, Cuyp,
Linnell, Gainsborough, and many others, including inexhaustible Reynolds
and Etty, make up a very strong exhibition, and the thanks of the public
are due to the owners who have so generously lent the pictures, and to the
members of the Royal Academy, whose energies have succeeded in giving
us such an artistic banquet. HERBERT LEE COLLINSON.
©ur ©mnibus^Boy,
A correspondent writes me : — " Wednesday, December 5, was Speech
Day at King Edward VI. 's School, Stratford-on-Avon, Sir Philip Cunliffe
Owen, K.C.B., K.C.M.G., C.I.C., presiding. The Memorial Hall,
excellently fitted for dramatic purposes, was used for the first time. The
first thing given was a scene from the i Antigone of Sophocles,' in
which Mr. H. R. Bigg (son of the Rev. C. Bigg, vicar of Handley, Wilts)
won golden opinions in the character of Antigone, wearing the long white,
gold-embroidered Greek dress with much grace. The scenery in this act
was charming. Mr. Dennis as the Watchman had an elaborate part, and
presented a very picturesque appearance in his dress of leopard skins. He
acted with much earnestness. Mr. Samman as Kreon, the King ot
Thebes, was painstaking, but hardly up to the level of the other two. At
the fall of the curtain plaudits were long and loud, and it rose again to
show a very charming tableau vivant, the two men regarding Antigone
with anger and detestation, while Antigone, with head bowed upon
her arms, knelt upon the ground in an abandonment of grief, v
scene from ' Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme ' of Moliere followed the
Greek play, and in this Mr. Van Courtlandt Philips carried away the
ii4 THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
honours, his rendering of the part of the Maitre d'Arme being really
admirable, and his pronunciation excellent, while Mr. Samman's
gaucheries as Mons. Jourdane were delicious. The by-play of the
secondary characters was good, and Mr. Norman Griffith as Le Maitre de
Philosophic was duly pompous and dignified to begin with, and propor-
tionately violent to finish with. There was an audience of more than three
hundred. The music of ' The Antigone ' (Mendelssohn) was well rendered,
Miss Lafifan taking the piano part, and Mr. Callaway the violin, on which
he is a proficient. Altogether the first dramatic representation in the
Memorial Hall may be said to have been a complete success.
At Drury Lane the pantomime " Babes in the Wood " is certainly a very
" new version " of the old story, for Mr. Augustus Harris, in collaboration
with the veteran E. L. Blanchard, and the more modern Harry Nicholls,
has contrived to mix up the fortunes of the hapless children with the love
affairs of Robin Hood and Maid Marian, the latter being made the nursery
governess to the infants. It is while they are out in their perambulator in
Sherwood Forest that they are decoyed away by the robbers, and eventually
covered with leaves by the robins under the fostering care of Robin Red-
breast (Mdlle. JEnea). The wicked uncle, the Baron (Mr. Victor Stevens),
the Baroness (Mr. Dan Leno), their factotum Jeames (Mr. Walter Andrew),
and their Poodle (the inimitable Charles Lauri, jun.) figure to the greatest
advantage in the comic scenes, and of course we have Mr. Harry Nicholls
and Mr. Herbert Campbell as the Babes, one in a dainty white frock, broad
sash, and fair hair hanging down the back, the other in a " Master Bardell "
suit sucking lollipops. That these two excellent comedians make plenty of
capital out of their " situations " can well be imagined, and their principal
topical song, " We're mistaken," goes splendidly every night. Miss Harriet
Vernon makes a handsome Robin Hood, and Miss Florence Dysart a
bewitching Maid Marian, in which character she sings very charmingly.
Then we have a host of pretty young ladies as some of Robin Hood's merry
men and their sweethearts, among whom may be mentioned Miss Maggie
Duggan as Will Scarlet, Miss Sybil Grey as Toxophila, and Miss Nelly
Huntley as Draw-the-Bow. Mr. Tom Pleon is a droll Friar Tuck, and
the Griffiths Brothers have a genuinely funny and clever fight as the Two
Robbers. Miss Theresa Mayer is a graceful Eglantine, Queen of the
Fairies. It is, however, the spectacle which we now look for at old
Drury, and in this Mr. Harris has surpassed himself. In the " Palace of
Games " is shown not only every toy ever invented by Cremer or seen in
the Lowther Arcade, but dominos and packs of cards are represented in
costume and perform dances. In the " Glade in Sherwood " the outlaw and
his band form a most picturesque coup (Fail from the taste displayed in
their sylvan dresses. The panorama of woodland scenery (by Kautsky) is
certainly one of the most beautiful on record, and the " Paradise of the Birds"
beggars description. Books on ornithology must have been ransacked to
•~
Drury Lane. ''The Babes in the Wood."
n6 THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
furnish the numerous specimens of the feathered tribe. Ostriches and
cranes, lyre birds and birds of paradise, the different species of pheasants,
secretary birds, macaws, cockatoos, love birds, and so in a descending scale
to the size of the tiniest jewel-hued humming birds, take part in a picture
that, gorgeous as it is, is relieved from garishness by the exquisite harmony
of the plumages. This alone is worth a visit, and when to this is added
Mr. Emden's transformation scene, leading to the welcome arrival of our
old friend Harry Payne and his efficient harlequinade, no wonder that the
large theatre is crowded twice daily, and from the booking is likely to be
so for many weeks to come.
" Alice in Wonderland," so charmingly adapted by H. Savile Clarke from
Mr. Lewis Carroll's delightful story, was revived at the Globe on Boxing
Day, and has since afforded the greatest treat to numerous children and
adults who patronise afternoon performances. It was fully commented on
two years ago when it was produced at the Prince of Wales's, and though
only three of the original cast remain, Mr. Sidney Harcourt (Hatter and
Tweedledum), Master Charles Adeson (Cheshire Cat), and Master Stephen
Adeson (King of Hearts), the characters are no less well filled. We have a
charming spirituelle Alice in Miss Ida Bowman, who sings sweetly and
dances gracefully, a quaint Dormouse in tiny Miss Emmie Bowman, and a
funny little White Rabbit in Master Charles Bowman. Then Mr. T. P.
Haynes figures conspicuously as Mock Turtle and Tweedledee, and Misses
Edith and Irene Vanbrugh exhibit their dramatic capabilities, the former as
the Cook, and the latter young lady as the Knave of Hearts and the White
Queen. Mr. Walter Slaughter's tuneful music is done full justice to, the
scenery is excellent, and the dresses and appointments in the best taste
and harmony. " Alice in Wonderland " was produced under the direction
of the adapter and Mr. Edgar Bruce.
Miss Rosina Filippi had previously shown herself to be a most capable
actress, and has now in her writing of " Little Goody Two Shoes " proved
herself to be a very pleasing authoress. Her work, though intended for
the amusement of children, is such that it cannot fail to charm grown
people, and clothes a favourite nursery story in bright and often poetic
language, through which runs a vein of delicate humour. Mr. Andrew
Levey has specially composed some very delightful music for it, and the
whole has been produced under the direction of Mrs. John Wood. The
clever manageress has assembled an excellent troupe of children, whom she
has trained with her well-known skill. Goody Two Shoes and her brother
Tommy Meanwell are sheltered by kind-hearted Farmer Jones, but
the terrible Sir Timothy Grind and his overseer Graspall insist on their
being driven forth.- So the good fairies assist them and start them on the
road for the " Land of Leisure," giving them as companions Jack Jumps the
Raven, the Cat, and the kind spirit Harmony. Their object is to find the
H . i, 1888.]
OUR OMNIBUS-BOX,
" wishing flower," which with its magical properties will enable them to set
all things straight. In this " Land of Leisure " Miss Flimsy, the Queen,
'earns the useless existence she is leading, and becomes quite an indus-
trious little body to win the love of Tommy. On the road they meet with
Moll)-, a most uncompromising young lady, and her comical mule Jibber, that
cause much laughter. Everything, I need hardly say, ends happily, the
wicked fairies and their proteges being defeated "all along the line."
Among those to be singled out as most promising"children must be Miss
Dot Hetherington as Goody, a charming little actress, singer and dancer ;
Tommy Tucker, as Graspall ; Molly, Miss Celia Tucker, a born comedienne ;
Harmony, Miss Daisy Ashton, with a very sweet voice ; Miss Flimsy, Miss
Georgie Martin, a very pleasing child : Jack Jumps, Charles Groves r Jibber,
F. Kitchen; and the Cat, S. Solomon. The scenery and dresses are
beautiful. " Mamma " is still a great success in the evening, and great im-
provements have been made for the comfort of the pit.
Refinement and elegance in the treatment of the subject are always
looked for at the Crystal Palace, and Mr. Horace Lennard, bearing this in
mind, has daintily dished up the old but ever welcome story of
" Cinderella " in neat and graceful lines, introducing a good amount of
wholesome, honest fun in the character of the two Sisters and the Baron.
With due deference to the spirit of pantomime, she is summoned by Father
Time and the Seasons to decide upon what shall be the subject chosen for
THE THEATRE.
[FEB. i, 1889.
the revels, and their deliberations form the opening. In the development
of the story Cinderella is discovered by the Prince when out hunting, and
this gives the opportunity for a real stag and hounds to be introduced, and
this is followed by a charming ballet, in which the dancers appear repre-
senting fern and bracken, oak leaves and acorns, &c. Another very pretty
and novel scene is in the Bou-
doir, where the little fairies,
summoned to deck Cinderella
for the ball, emerge from gigan-
tic fans, bouquets, jewel boxes,
&c., in costumes that illustrate
their several callings. The
" transformation " is a very
beautiful one. Mr. Oscar Bar-
rett, who produces the panto-
mime, has also selected and
arranged the music with his
usual good taste, and has en-
gaged a bewitching Cinderella
in Miss Edith Bruce, a hand-
some, dashing Prince Felix in
Miss Susie Vaughan, two most comical sisters in Mr. Edward Righton
and Miss Amy Liddon, and a very amusing Baron and his servant in
Mr. Clarence J. Hague and Mr. D'Auban, the latter of whom, with Miss
D'Auban and the Fairy Godmother, are responsible for the ballets.
" The Begum's Diamonds," an original three-act comedy-drama, written
by J. P. Hurst, announced for production at a matinee at the Avenue
Theatre on January 2 2 by Mr. Samuel French, and in which Messrs. Yorke
Stephens, Lewis Waller, VV. F. Hawtrey, Sydney Brough, Eric Lewis, and
Hamilton Knight, and Misses Florence Westj Norreys, Violet Vanbrugh,
and Ethel Hope are to appear, together with " April Showers," by the
authors of " Flirtation," a three-act comedy to be played at Terry's on the
afternoon of Thursday, January 24, and for which Messrs. John Beauchamp,
Lewis Waller, Albert Chevalier, Walter Everard, Charles, and Misses
Norreys, Maud Millett, and Mrs. Edmund Phelps, will be noticed in the
next number. " The Love Story," Mr. P. Leclercq's play that achieved
such a success at a Strand matinee, will be played on the afternoons
of February 18 and four following days at the Vaudeville, Miss Janet
Achurch and Mr. Charles Charrington resuming their original characters.
They will be assisted by a strong cast, and subsequently take the piece on
tour.
Mr. Richard Manafield commenced his season at the Globe Theatre, of
which he is sole lessee and manager, on Saturday evening, December 22
FEB. i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 119
1888. Though he had only obtained possession some thirty-six hours, he
had in that incredibly short time accomplished marvels in cleaning,
re-upholstering, and carpeting the' house, which, with its handsome new
curtain, presented quite a fresh and bright appearance. " Prince Karl,"
transferred from the Lyceum, went splendidly, Mr. Mansfield carrying
the piece along in one continued ripple of laughter. The cast was the
same with two exceptions. Miss May Whitty, a young lady possessed of
considerable personal attractions, was a very piqya-nt and animated Alicia,
and Mr. Weedon Grossmith was excessively droll as Howard Algernon
Briggs. "Prince Karl " was preceded by " Editha's Burglar," already seen
and appreciated at the Princess's Theatre. The short but telling scene
had the advantage of Mr. Lionel Brough's valuable aid in the character
of the burglar, which was played with that keen sense of humour and
fidelity to nature that distinguishes this clever actor's performances. The
child Editha was charmingly and naturally portrayed by little Miss Lily
Bowman, who was remarkably free from that parrot-like delivery so often
heard in stage children. In consequence of Mr. Richard Mansfield having
been peremptorily forbidden to act on account of an affection of the
throat, on Saturday, January 12, 1889, Miss Kate Vaughan appeared as
Miss Hardcastle in '' She Stoops to Conquer," which showed great improve-
ment on her former representations of the character, exhibiting much
vivacity and teeling. Mr. L. Brough's Tony Lumpkin is too well known
to require comment. We had a Mrs. Hardcastle for the first time in
Miss Carlotta Leclercq that was instinct with true comedy, and this mcst
excellent actress may certainly look upon it as one of her greatest
successes. Miss May Whitty was a very bright and intelligent Miss
Neville. Mr. William Herbert's Marlow would have been improved by a
little more dash. Mr. Mansfield has added to the enjoyment of his
audiences by providing almost a concert from a specially selected pro-
gramme of music, most efficiently executed by a first-rate orchestra. Selec-
tions from Bizet, Gounod, Sullivan, and Ambrose Thomas were warmly
appl.uded. Mr. Edward German was the conductor.
A Dramatic and Musical Recital was given by two young artists at the
Steinway Hall on Thursday afternoon, January 17, 1889, with unqualified
success. Miss Patrice Boucicault's sweet voice and good expression charmed
her audience in the " Chanson de Florian " and "Te souviens^tu," and with
Mr. Mowbray Marras in a duet, " Only for You," by Stefano Kardys, who
accompanied, and which was heard for the first time. The melody is
pleasing. Miss Rosa Kenney gave a very naive rendering of " Echo's
Oracle " (Charles Lamb Kenney) and " Ask and Have " (Lover). But it
was in " The Passing of Archur," arranged from Tennyson's " Idylls of the
King," that the talented young lady showed herself possessed of a true
feeling of poetry ; the pathetic dignity of the wounded King's words was
expressed in a manner worthy of the highest praise. The two beneficiaires
i2o THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
had the assistance of Mr. Aubrey Boucicault, who recited with racy humour
" The Moderate Man " and other pieces. Miss Mary Kenney gave an
organ solo that was much appreciated, Mr. Charles Reginald Davison
proved himself an accomplished pianist, and last, not least, Miss Ada
Cavendish, who has lost none of her dramatic fire, taught the younger
generation what elocution should be by her magnificent delivery of two
poems of Tennyson's, " The Victim " and " The Charge of the Light
Brigade." The hall was crowded, and by a fashionable audience.
Some most excellent " Tableaux Vivants " were given at the Village Hall,
Cobham, on January n. Mr. Combe, of Cobham Park, who issued the
invitations, had entrusted the arrangements to Mr. W. P. Warren, who
acquitted himself so well that everything went without a hitch, and the
different tableaux gave the greatest satisfaction. The grouping was in every
case most artistic. In all there were six. The most noticeable were
" Mary Queen of Scots and her four Marys," represented by Mrs. Royle
and the Misses Evelyn, F. Ethel and G. Combe being the first. Mr. Harvey
Combe and Master Herbert Combe appeared as " Hubert and Arthur "
("King John"). A scene from "Carmen" elicited great applause, as did that
from " Undine," and the final tableau from " The Winter's Tale " was well
managed? Messrs. Nathan were responsible for the dresses, &c., which
were very handsome and appropriate.
Friday, January n, saw the 3ooth representation of "Sweet Lavender"
at Terry's Theatre. In honour of the event the exterior of the house
was most brilliantly illuminated, and the sight of thousands of gas-jets
and the large braziers on the summit of the building attracted great
crowds. The fortunate lessee presented each of the ladies of his company
with a charming bouquet, from which streamed a " Lavender " sash, and
he entertained the entire working starY of the theatre at a handsome
repast. The American and touring companies are doing excellent
business, and at the original home of Mr. Pinero's comedy the booking is
still so great as to promise a very extended run.
Covent Garden is occupied by Hengler's Circus, which has greater
scope in the larger arena than it had at the old house in Argyll Street.
Mr; Freeman Thomas has arranged that portion of the theatre usually
occupied by the stage in a handsome and convenient manner. Under
the raised seats are the stalls occupied by the magnificent stud of eighty
horses and ponies, and the building is brilliantly lighted. Caviar, a bear
that performs on horseback in a wonderful manner, is a great attraction,
and it is most amusing to witness his gambols in the circle with his com-
panion, a large boarhound. Mr. George Lockhart's elephants, " Waddy,"
" Molly," and " Boney," are marvels of intelligence. There is a very
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
LSttX&X&S**^
MR. CHARLES COLLETTF,.
" '1'herc ain't no knuwin.'
BOOTLE'S BAT»V.
FROM \ PHOTOGRAPH 5P»CIAIJ.V VAKRN FOR " THR THRATRK
B\ I'KAI»F,I,I>. ANT) ,YOUN<-., 2.\fi, KF.Uf.NT ^M;KKT, \V.
FEB. i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS BOX. 121
^ -•
clever trick pony, " Robin," who goes through some amusing experiences
with one of the clowns, of whom there are four — Valdo, Anderson,
Frisky, and Walker. A comical donkey, who joins in a song, causes
much laughter, and among the company may be found some of the
cleverest male and female riders, acrobats, and equilibrists in the world.
Mr. Charles Collette, who, previous to his adopting the theatrical pro
fession, had held a commission for some years in the Dragoon (iuards,
made his first appearance in London at the Prince of Wales's Theatre,
Tottenham Court Road, in " Tame Cats," a comedy by Edmund Yates
and the late Palgrave Simpson, under Mr. Bancroft's management, in
December, 1878. He remained several years under the same manage-
ment, playing in "School," "Ours," "Society," " M.P.," "Money,"
" Merchant of Venice," " Man and Wife," "School for Scandal," &c., and
numberless farces and comediettas. About this period Mr. Collette was
also a member of Mr. Charles Wyndham's Crystal Palace Company ; he
has also served under Miss Ada Cavendish, Mr. J. L. Toole, Mr. Wybrow
Robertson, the late Alexander Henderson, John Hollingshead, Messrs.
Russell and Bashford, Edgar Bruce, Edith Woodworth, J. and R. Douglas,
F. J. Harris, and Mary Anderson. Having earned an enviable reputation,
Mr. Collette tempted fortune in the provinces, and for five years travelled
with his own company over the three kingdoms and Channel Islands, and
especially scored in revivals of pieces made famous by the late Charles
Mathews, including "Used Up," "The Critic," " Game of Speculation,"
" Contested Election," " The Liar," " My Awful Dad," " Cool as a
Cucumber," &c., &c. One of his happiest efforts was in " Bounce," a
musical play by Alfred Maltby, in which he sustained seven distinct
characters ; and who has not marvelled at the lingual prodigies of his
famous farce, (( Cryptoconchoidsyphonostomata " ? During his engage-
ment with Mr. J. L. Toole, Mr. Collette played in most of that popular
comedian's pieces. Mr. Collette managed Mr. Edgar Bruce's company on
tour, and played Colonel Woodd in Burnand's comedy "The Colonel"
many hundred times, pronounced a masterly and most artistic conception.
More recently his marked successes have been Bishopriggs in " Man and
Wife" at the Haymarket, and Autolycus at the Lyceum during Miss
Anderson's seven months' season in 1887-88. In May last Mr. Collette
created the part of Saunders in " Bootle's Baby," and earned unqualified
praise from press and public. Mr. Collette has also appeared in comic
opera, his most conspicuous successes in this line being Cabriolo in " The
Princess of Trebizonde," and quite recently Patricho in " Carina." Mr.
Collette is now appearing in " Cool as a Cucumber " at the Ope>a
Comique, where his daughter, Mary Collette (lately introduced to the
stage under the wings of Mrs. Kendal), is now acting in Mrs. Beringer's
play, "Tares."
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. K
122 THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889
Mr. J. L. Toole reappeared as " The Don " on Boxing Day at his own
theatre in King William Street after a most successful tour in the provinces,
and was almost affectionately received. Mr. and Mrs. Merivale's comedy
went capitally, and there appears no likelihood of a change in the bill
being required for some time to come, Mr. C. Wilson is now the Horace
Milliken ; Miss Eva Moore, Dora ; and the Hon. Bob Joy is pleasantly
rattled through by Mr. Lytton Grey.
Mr. Charles Wilmot could not have entrusted the book of his pantomime
" Sweet Cinderella " to an abler writer than Mr. Geoffrey Thorn, for he
m
'•;f|i
By W& D
well knows that Islingtonians, though they can thoroughly appreciate
the highest class of drama, yet in a pantomime look for plenty of smart
writing and fun, and they certainly have got it from commencement to
finish. Though the story is old, the business is fresh and novel in .i-s
treatment. A more charming, dainty Cinderella than Miss Dot lyEario
could scarcely be found, and her dancing of a minuet in particular was the
peifection of grace. She has a most captivating lover in Miss Julia Warden
as the Prince, and the two sisters provoke shouts of laughter, so ridiculously
funny are they made by Mr. Mark Kinghorne and Mr. Fred Williams.
FEB. i, 1889.]
OUR OMNIBUS-BOX.
123
There is a very pretty ballet of butterflies in the " Silver 't Moonbeams"
scene, and the Sappho ballet is distinguished by its gorgeousness of^colour.
A kindergarten school is very cleverly represented by children, who fill
the stage and sing nursery rhymes and appear to play various instruments;
this is repeatedly encored. Trie Baron (Mr. Joe Burgess) and his page
(Mr. W. Crackles) are very droll, and have a very novel scene together;
and the transformation is particularly worthy of notice, recapitulating JaSj it
does in some beautiful pictures and tableaux the events of " Cinderella. "JJ
The. members of the Scarborough Dramatic Club gave four representa-
tions of the burlesques " Bombastes Furioso " and " Anne Boleyn " in the
Londesborough Theatre, Scarborough, on Boxing and three following
nights, December 26, 27, 28, and 29, 1888, being the 68tb, 69th, yoth, and
yist performances of the club. Miss Mabel Line scored a great success as
Distaffina in " Bombastes," and also in " Anne Boleyn," her dancing being
much admired. The men's parts were well taken by Mr. R. C. Hope
(manager and stage director) and Messrs. W. and T. Wilcox. ^'Anne
Boleyn," the cast of which numbered about fifty, was admirably staged and
dressed. The ballet — entirely amateur — was encored, and had to be repeated
each night. The text had been carefully written up to date, and literally
sparkled with topical and local hits, interspersed with songs and choruses^
Like all of the entertainments given by this old-established and well-known
i24 " THE IHEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
club, the " show " was in every way an unqualified success, and was pro-
duced under the sole direction of the manager, Mr. R. C. Hope, F.S.A.,
F.R.S.L.
On January 4, 1889, the occasion of the 25oth representation of
" Joseph's Sweetheart" at the Vaudeville, a new comedietta by Mr. F. W.
Broughton was produced as a lever-de-rideau. It is entitled " The Poet,"
and its dialogue is smart and amusing. One, the Hon. Arthur Fayne,
having been smitten by Kitty Ferriby, an actress who appears under another
name at the theatre, comes to the house where, unknown to him, she lives,
with a view of getting some verses written to soften the obdurate fair one.
"The poet" is her father, a cynical, rather bibulous gentleman, who writes
verses for quack medicines and extensively advertised goods. He discovers
that the " honourable " has made love to a niece of his, Winifred Grey, whilst
she was in the country, and had even promised her marriage, so that, when
the lines are written and are read to Arthur Fayne, they only express con-
tempt for him and his dishonourable attentions. Moreover, Winifred's
eyes are opened to the fact that she has given up an honest young
fellow's love for the admiration of a designing roue, and. fortunately for
her, her lover forgives and overlooks her rather strong flirtation. The
part of Kitty Ferriby, a sensible, honest-hearted girl, was very brightly
played by Miss Annie Irish, and Mr. F. Thorne was excellent as the
rhymester. The little piece appeared to be much approved of, and the
author was called for.
" The Merry Wives of Windsor " has been given during the month of
January at the Haymarket Theatre on the Wednesday matinees. The
cast was much the same as that when the piece was played at the
Crystal Palace, except that we had a perfect Host of the Garter in Mr.
Lionel Brough, and most excellent comedy from Miss Lingard as Mis-
tress Ford. Mr. Beerbohm Tree's Sir John Falstaff was immeasurably
superior to his first appearance in the character. It was distinguished by
a rich vein of humour, and, if not quite what we picture ourselves the fat
knight should be, it was a most enjoyable performance. Mr. Macklin was
a manly Mr. Ford, and Mr. Vollaire was a sound Justice Shallow. Mrs.
Tree sang very sweetly as Anne Page. The fairy revels around Herne's
Oak presented a charming scene, Madame Katti Lanner's trained children
figuring as the little elves. Shakespeare's comedy was played to overflowing
houses.
Miss Jessie Bond received her musical education at the Royal Academy,
and made her debut in Gilbert and Sullivan's opera " H.M.S. Pinafore" at
tlie Opdra Comique, and, with the exception of creating the r6le of Maud
Charteris in " Mr. Barnes of New York " at the matinee given at the Olympic,
FEB. ivli889.J OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 125
in which she scored a great success, has appeared elsewhere but once
besides in the entire series of the operas by the same author and composer.
In all of these Miss Bond has distinguished herself, and become such a
popular favourite that a production at the Savoy without her name appear-
ing in the bills would induce not only surprise but much disappointment.
The following are the characters filled by this talented young lady in the
various operas. Hebe in " H.M.S. Pinafore," Edith in " The Pirates of
Penzance," Lady Angela in " Patience," the, title-mfc in " lolanthe,"
Melissa in " Princess Ida," Constance in the revival of " The Sorcerer,"
Pitti Sing in " The Mikado," Mad Margaret in " Ruddigore," Phoebe
Meryll in " The Yeomen of the Guard." Miss Jessie Bond also <: created "
the part of Maria in Alfred Cellier's " After All," and her career has been
one continued success.
Commencing Monday, January 28, Mr. Wilson Barrett is announced to
appear as Hamlet for twelve nights at the Princess's Theatre, with Miss
Eastlake as Ophelia. " Good Old Times," the play written by Wilson
Barrett and Hall Caine, is to be produced there on February n, and
later on " Nowadays," of which the talented actor is the sole author.
During the run of " Hamlet," " The Lady of Lyons " will be played on
Wednesday and Saturday afternoons. Mr. Wilson Barrett's engagement
will extend over twelve weeks, and I feel sure that everyone will be
delighted to welcome him back to London, and to wish him success when
he sails for America again in the autumn.
Mrs. Oscar Beringer commenced her management of the Opera Comique
on Monday evening, January 21, 1889, with the production of " Tares," a
play written by herself, and which was tried at a matinee at the Prince of
Wales's in January of last year. The piece was fully noticed in the March
number of THE THEATRE, and it will not therefore be necessary to go into
the plot again, except with reference to one or two alterations, and indeed
improvements, that have been made. The love-making between Bessie
Kingsmill and Harry has been done away with ; the young lady is now
wooed by the Doctor, a fresh natural character well played by Mr. J. G.
Gfahame. Rachel Denison is made the wife of Luke Chester, the scheming
cousin of the hero, and, in lieu of being strangled by him, as was the case
when the piece was originally played, quits the scene repentant and
softened, and leaving the impression that she will never more trouble the
woman who has been a mother to her child. Miss Kate Rorke was the
•Margaret Gyde, and won the entire sympathies of the audience by her
womanly tenderness and truth to nature. It was, however, Miss Gertrude
Kingston who fairly took the house by storm. As Rachel Denison, the
cool, calculating adventuress, she, with marvellous subtlety, gave those
fleeting touches of a better nature which are never entirely uprooted from
i26 THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
even the most debased, and in the recognition of her child Jack there was
a depth of passion and maternal feeling with which this clever actress would
hardly have been credited, her acting hitherto having been tinged with an
unsympathetic hardness at times. Miss Kingston has shown herself
capable of great things in the future. Mr. C. W. Somerset reminded one
occasionally of the old earl in "Lord Fauntleroy," and was not quite at his
best as Luke Chester. Mr. W. Guise and Mr. E. Hendrie gave some
clever character sketches as Giles, the gardener, and Job, a labourer, and
Miss Mary Collette made a most promising debut in London as Rosie.
Mr. Forbes Robertson as Nigel Chester repeated the success he gained
when he first played the part. The rest of the cast was good, and the play
was beautifully staged, and was well received. The principals and the
authoress were called. " Cool as a Cucumber " was the first piece, and in
it Mr. Charles Collette reassumed the character of Plumper, and played it
in a manner that would have made Charles Mathews, the original, envious.
New plays produced, and important revivals in London, from December
u, 1888, to January 21, 1889.
(Revivals are marked thus *)
Dec. 17.* "The Real Little Lord Fauntleroy," play, in three acts, by Mrs.
Hodgson Burnett. Op£ra Comique.
„ 17.* " Dorothy," three-act comedy opera, words by B. C. Stephenson,
music by Alfred Cellier. Lyric.
„ 22. "The Silver Falls," new and original drama, in four acts, by
George R. Sims and Henry Pettitt. Adelphi.
,, 22.* " Prince Karl," farcical play, in four acts, by Archibald C.
Gunter. Globe.
„ 22* " Editha's Burglar," one-act play, by Edwin Cleary. Globe.
„ 22. " Beauty and the Beast," pantomime, by J. T. Denny. Sadler's
Wells.
,, 24. "The Forty Thieves," pantomime, written by George Conquest
and Henry Spry. Surrey.
„ 24. "The Babes in the Wood; or, Baron the Knave, the Two
Ruffians, and a Fairy Hand at Nap," libretto by John Jourdain,
music by Henri C. French. Elephant and Castle.
„ 24. " Cinderella," new version by Horace Lennard, music by Oscar
Barrett. Crystal Palace.
, 24. "Whittington and his Cat," pantomime, by W. Muskerry.
Marylebone.
,, 26. "Little Goody Two Shoes," fairy story, book written by Miss
Rosina Filippi, music specially composed by Mr. Andrew
Levey. Afternoon performances, Court.
FEB. i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 127
Dec. 26.* "Alice in Wonderland," musical dream play, adapted by H.
Savile Clarke, music by Walter Slaughter. Afternoon per-
formances, Globe.
„ 26. " Babes in the Wood, Robin Hood and his Merry Men, and
Harlequin who killed Cock Robin," pantomime, re-written,
arranged, and produced by Augustus Harris in collaboration
with E. L. Blanchard and Harry NichoHs. Drury Lane.
„ 26.* "The Don," three-act comedy, by Mr. and Mrs. Herman
Merivale. Toole's.
„ 26.* "East Lynne," four-act drama, founded on Mrs. Henry Wood's
novel. Olympic.
„ 26. " Apollo, M.D.," one-act farcical comedy, by Sir Randall
Roberts, Bart. Jodrell.
,26. " Bob " (first time in London), three-act play, by Fred Marsden.
Jodrell. '
„ 26. " Sweet Cinderella," pantomime, written by Geoffrey Thorn.
The Grand.
„ 26. "The Babes in the Wood,1' pantomime, written by Geoffrey
Thorn. Pavilion.
„ 26. " Robinson Crusoe, or Harlequin Man Friday and the King of
the Cannibal Islands," written by William Muskerry. Sauger's
Amphitheatre.
„ 26. " The Magic Dragon of the Demon Dell," pantomime by J.
Addison. Britannia.
„ 26. " Tricoche et Cacolet," comedy, in five acts, by MM. Meilhac
and Halevy. French Plays. Royalty,
„ 29. " Dan the Outlaw," diama, in prologue and four acts. Kilburn
Town Hall.
„ 29.* " Macbeth," Shakespeare's tragedy. Lyceum.
„ 31. "First Mate," comedy-drama, in two acts, by Richard Henry.
Gaiety.
1889.
Jan. 2.* "The Merry Wives of Windsor." Matinde. Haymarket.
„ 4. " The Poet," new comedy, in one act, by Fred W. Broughton.
Vaudeville.
,, 7. " Le Voyage de Monsieur Perrichon," four-act comedy, by
MM. Labiche and Ed, Martin. French plays. Royalty.
„ 12. "Paul Jones," opera comique, in three acts, after Chivot and
Duru, written and produced by H. B. Farnie, music by
R. Planquette. Prince of Wales's.
,, 12.* " She Stoops to Conquer." Goldsmith's comedy. Globe.
,, 14. "That Doctor Cupid," new and fantastic comedy, in three acts,
by Robert Buchanan. Matinee, Vaudeville.
„ 1 6. " La Cagnotte," comedy, in four acts, by MM. Labiche and
Delacour. French Plays. Royalty.
„ 19.* "Still Waters Run Deep," comedy, in three acts, by Tom
Taylor. Criterion.
128 THE THEATRE. [FEB. i, 1889.
Jan. 19.* "A Pretty Piece of Business," comedietta, one act, by Thomas
Morton. Criterion.
„ 21.* " Tares," play, in three acts, by Mrs. Oscar Beringer. Op&ra
Comique.
In the Provinces from December 10, 1888, to January 15, 1889.
Dec. 13. "The Almighty Dollar," melodrama, in five acts, by W. Wood.
T.R. Bafnsley.
„ 22. "After Long Years," comedietta, by Gerald Godfrey. T.R.
Dewsbury.
„ 22. "A Sailor's Fortune," drama, in five acts, by F. A. Barnes.
Public Hall, Wrexham.
„ 24. " Simple Hearts," domestic drama, in six acts, by C. H.
Lorenzo. Public Hall, Wrexham.
1889.
Jan. 4. " In the Wrong Box," comedietta, by Richard Leach. T.R.
Lowestoft.
„ 4. " Irish Eyes," comedietta, by Sir George Douglas. Corn
Exchange Hall, Kelso.
„ 15. "A-Lad-In and Well Out of It," burlesque extravaganza, by
Bruce Smith. Town Hall, Folkestone.
In Paris from December 5, 1888, to January 12, 1889.
Dec. 8. " Sire Olaf," in three scenes, in verse, by M. Andre Alexandre,
music by M. Lucien Lambert, Lyrique. Vaudeville.
„ 10. " Germinie Lacerteux," by M. Edmond de Goncourt. Odeon.
„ 13. " La Securite des Families," comedy, in three acts, by M. Albin
Valabregue.
„ 14. " L'Escadron Volant de la Reine," comic opera, in three acts,
libretto by M. D'Ennery and others, composed by M. Litolff.
Op£ra Comique.
„ 19. "Le Clos Fleuri," one-act comic opera, words by MM. Maxim e
Dubreuil and R. Guy, music by M. Petrus Martin. Menus-
Plaisirs.
„ 21. "Le Renouveau," in one act, in verse, by MM. Joseph Guida
and Adolphe Ribaux. Odeon.
„ 26. " Isoline," fairy tale, in three acts, poem by M. Catulle Mendes,
music by M. Andre Messager. Renaissance.
„ 28. " Le Chevalier de Maison Rouge," drama, in five acts, by
Alexandre Dumas and Auguste Maquet. Porte-St.-Martin.
1889.
Jan. 5.* " Henri III. et Sa Cour," five-act drama, by Alexandre Dumas
and Auguste Maquet. Come'die Franqaise.
„ ii. "La Porteuse de Pain," drama, in a prologue and five acts, by
MM. Xavier de Montepin and Jules Dornay. Ambigu.
„ 12. "L' Affaire Edouard," comedy, in three acts, by MM. Georges
Feydean and Maurice Desvallieres. Varietes.
THE THEATRE.
Polyhymnia in Comic Opera.
BY CECIL W. FRANKLYN.
muse of lyric poety has many devotees, but to find
her enthroned in fullest state one must go to the
librettists of comic opera and study their inspired
effusions. She is equal to all their requirements,
and in love, patriotism, what you will, she alike
condescends to direct the flight of their pen. She
permits, indeed, to these favoured of her worshippers a license
as regards metre that makes them the chartered libertines of
the poets, and a latitude, where reason is concerned, that is the
despair and envy of workers in other poetic fields.
Some specimens of the lyrics of a few of these authors can-
not but be acceptable to those who may chance to have made
acquaintance with them only when rendered unintelligible by
the vocal deficiencies of singers, or overlaid with the melodic
resources of the composer of the music. From the love-songs
we shall naturally cull the choicest specimens. We may pause
to inquire, what are the requisites of a love song ? Simplicity,
of course, passion, tenderness, delicacy of thought displayed in
exquisite music of word. Now comes Polyhymnia to the aid
of her adorers, and in " Our Diva " we find a gem which is the
result of her inspiration : — *
" Once on a time your pretty face and form bewitching
Rosy lips, and brilliant eye,
Attractions rare would prove to all who to see stitching
Their pretty Marie would hie !
* The quotations are exactly copied from the libretti, punctuation and all.
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. L
i0o THE THEATRE. [MARCH i,
Charms have not fled, since you were all the beaux enchanting,
Gay still that laughing glance,
Destruction rare could work to those who gallivanting
Think you the pride of France."
This for simple grace and unaffected charm is probably un-
surpassable. It surely fulfils all the conditions.
" La Bearnaise " gives us the following example of what a
love song ought to be : —
" Sleeping under the spell entrancing
Of thy beautiful face,
Sleeping while thy bright eyes are glancing,
Would I were in his place !
" Such a prize of heav'nly rapture
On this laggard does wait,
Were another his charmer to capture,
He would merit his fate.
" Ah, if this brimming cup of pleasure
Had been offered to me,
How had I bless'd the gods for the treasure
I should have found in thee."
Then for a duet between a passionate swain and scornful
maiden, what could be better than this from " Erminie " r : —
" RAY. The blissful pleasure I profess
Of such a meeting overjoys me
I have not language to express
The joy I feel and that annoys me
Though with blessings beset
As I roam the world through
I can never forget
My first meeting with you
ERM. I beg, I beg that you'll not now
Some other day when more collected
You may declare protest and vow
With metaphors you've recollected "
The italics are ours. It is difficult to say whether the lady or
gentleman were more to be congratulated on this effort of
the muse. But the former had another chance in a charm-
ing love duet from the same melodious opera, containing the
lines : —
" Our destinies the unseen future hides,
The coming gloom we cannot, cannot see — •
And cheering hope for e'er with us abides,
Foretelling thoughts (sic) of joys to be."
The last line is quite too lovely !
MARCH i, 1889.] POLYHYMNIA IN COMIC OPERA. 131
" Les Cloches de Corneville " is not without beauties of its
own. From its embarrassing riches we may select one of Ger-
maine's songs : —
" From pallid cheek you may be telling,
With fear, not courage now I thtill,
My timid heart 'gainst me rebelling,
Is throbbing fast, do what I will !
And tho' my coward heart fain would not,
In vain to stay away I tried,
Let you come alone — Ah ! I could not !
And I'm by >our side !
And this from " Dorothy " is worthy of preservation : —
" Oh ! tell me why if you intended,
Thus to treat my love with scorn
Such rents as will never be mended,
In this poor heart you've torn."
The boldness of the metaphor quite deserved to be allied to
such originality of metre.
In " Babette " we find : —
" For, orange-blossom, now, at length, I know
Souls dull with sorrow
Vainly attempt to borrow
A glory from thy buds of snow;
The heart, alas ! may heavy be
Although the head is graced by thee ;
And thy beauty so rare
For a girl is oft a snare.
But, precious flow'r, I'll love thy fragrance yet,
Nor will thy brightness forget
If thou wilt hear my prayer when I pray
That I may wear thee for him I'll love alway ! "
This combines tenderness with grace of expression, but for
pure passion we prefer some lines from "Indiana": —
" There at the dreamy hour of gloaming,
When roses die upon the gale,
There, with the loved one to be roaming.
Tell o'er and o'er the old, old tale !
Ah, sweet it were, the world forgetting,
There linger (sic\ by the world forgot ;
The star of true love never setting,
Life's fray and fret remembered not ! "
It is impossible to be blind to the devotion of lovers who would
willingly meet during a " gale," and roam about in it, moreover.
Doubtless it is the strength of their affection that would rendei
them less fragile than the " roses," which, poor things, have to
i32 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
" die upon " it. These subtle meanings should not be passed
over by the reader, but carefully sought for, and earnestly
studied. Justice should be done to the poet, at whatever cost to
the brain.
In that charming opera, " The Beggar Student, " we
find :—
" When a rosy light, gay herald of the morning,
Glimmers in the east, and darksome night dispels,
The lark t'wards heav'n her flight directs, the dull earth scorning,
And as she soars, in song her tale of gladness tells.
No plaintive ditties issue from her warbling throat
She loves to live, and grateful joy inspires her ev'ry note."
The originality of the rhythm is very noticeable. Again we
have : —
" Oh happy bride, Oh fair and gracious maiden,
See, we are here With flowers laden
Full soon shalt thou pronounce thy marriage vows
We wait to conduct thee to thy spouse."
The polish of these lines is delightful. Yet it may be re-
marked that, though the German composer thought fit to make
his first four phrases identical with the second four, the lyrist
submits to no such restriction, but sets lines of one metre to the
former, and of a different metre to the latter, and neither lacks
originality. The same praise may be awarded to the following
from " Nell Gwynne " : —
" Run little brook, Run with thy silver feet,
Fast thro the forest, and fast o'er the lea,
And when thou'rt come where dwells my sweet,
Tell her I wait at the trysting-tree."
From " Erminie " we may choose some lines from a pathetic
lay:-
" Darkest the hour 'ere light of dawn beameth
Deepest the gloom 'ere the storm-clouds divide
Be that my faith. In the adage there seemeth
Hope, to be cherished, whate'er may betide.
Vain, vain the dream, my loved one can never
Mine be ; as vain is the once plighted vow
What pow'r can change the doom ; we must sever
Ah, could the future look blacker than now ?
" Life's light has gone ; my pathway is lonely,
Dreary ! the star of my life's brightness gone,
Set ne'er to rise. T'would seem my hope only
Rests in the thought — the belief, there is none. "
It may be objected that the pause after " mine be " in line §,
fOLYHYMXIA MX COSffC OPERA.
in line 10, is awkward for the
but it is no part of a librettist's dory to mak
forthemoskian^and if Mr. jakobowsfci elected that no
should be made there, so for as he was concerned, why, so
the worse for the singer! That is att.
And a MUgu is a kmg-suifaing individual, inured to mnch
hardness. To be sure, too, we have heard •* Mine be as vain
is the once plighted vow/9 and ** Drpary the star of my fife's
with the singer's face expressive of no
intellectual disturbance whatever. Xor did the artist's
that his k?f* only rested in the Atmgkf that the star of his
life's brightness had set, since he had no belief in the idea,
appear to cause the slightest mental throe. The understands^
between vocalist and poet is invariably complete — apparently
founded on a perfection of sympathy not always attained by
mere auditors. It is possibly not necessary to point out the
special effect gained by the juxtaposition of the two phrases,
"Life's light has gone" and "My life's brightness gone,"
This is a touch that reveals the favoured worshipper of
Polyhymnia.
One last example of the love-song must suffice. It is from
"The OM Guard":—
* The lover's hour is nigh,
From belfry okL, hark ! the angems is rj>™«^
Ug* foot, and gfcnang eye,
With shepherd pipe, upon the v3bge green, are rhyming.
And thou. oh my darling, dost thou not hie
Where for thee the dancers delay?
Or dost remember [and remembering sigh
He who lovd thee wefl is gone away?""
The somewhat peculiar use of the verb rArjvxJKf reminds us
that one of the most useful functions of comic opera librettists is
the invention of new words, or new ways of using words. How
successful they are in this department can be easily proved.
In " Ruddigore " we read : —
"She was in a pretty pickle,
As she well imght be—
Bat hts gallantries were mkkle (arX
For Death followed with his sickle,* etc.
In "Carina". —
Within the Halls of Memory
We oft hear echoing soil,
134 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
Some lingering strains of melody,
To (sic) which our pulses thrill."
In " Mynheer Jan " :—
" Churls despising,
Sweetness prizing,
Joys devising,
All would vie
Every state in,
Courtesy great in,
Bred innate (sic), in
Days gone by."
We have here also to notice the ingenious manner in which
the preposition " in " (line 5) is made to govern two words.
Ordinary poets would almost certainly have placed a second
"in" before "joys," but it would be commonplace in the
extreme. We can fancy a prose-writer arranging the words
thus : All, in every state, would vie in devising joys. How
lamentably wanting in invention would that be ! Now, as we
see it above, it irresistibly reminds us of the dear " word-jumble"
puzzle of our innocent childhood! Then, "bred innate!" —
courtesy bred innate ! — how great must that courtesy be which
is both innate and the result of breeding !
In "Indiana" we read that "the maid lay in slumber spell'd;"
and in " Pepita " " Sancho and Juan would din her " — that is,
another maid. How beautiful to be a maid spell'd and dinned !
As for new words, in " The Yeomen of the Guard " alone we get
" peerly proud," and "virginity seeks, all coyful, man's affinity!"
In "Mynheer Jan" there is "Our vessel glides through the
water's lave'1
Possibly the beauties of the love-songs must yield to those of
the patriotic lyrics. This, for instance, from " Nell Gwynne," is
calculated to rouse the purest emotions of our nature : —
" England ! Thy hero-children never forget,
Deep in thy heart of hearts thy soldiers oh set !
Mother ! Thy sons have kept thee safe mid alarms,
In thy turn take them to thine arms."
If such a lyrical outburst does not procure for our army
recruits glowing with military enthusiasm, it cannot be the fault
of the poet !
Humour is not, apparently, frequently demanded from a comic-
MARCH i, 1889.] POLYPIYMNIA IN COMIC OPERA. 135
opera librettist, but that it conies within his range is abundantly
proved by our next quotation, from " The Beggar Student " : —
" Just see how that fellow thumps at his big drum,
He makes din enough to strike one deaf and dumb,
To give the city band its due
It is indeed a deuced noisy crew."
The idea of a din striking one dumb is a very delicate and
original piece of wit.
A chorus of girls from " Les Cloches^de Corneville " is perhaps
something more than humorous : —
" Scandal-monger, gossip, gadder,
With the biting tongue (sic) of adder,
Her there's nothing so much cheers,
As setting people by the ears !
Positively she does revel
In her ill work, little devil !
Like a clapper in a bell,
Her tongue goes wagging on pell-mell!"
The daintily minute observation of a poet who has seen—
or should we say heard? — a clapper "wagging on pell-mell" is
greatly to be commended. The language, here and there, is
doubtless a trifle outspoken, but much must be forgiven to a
lyrist capable of presenting a sufficiently familiar, and usually
uninteresting object, in so new and poetical a light. The effort is
almost equalled by the poet who writes thus in " Indiana " :—
" Hark, the trill of bird through woodland whirring,
And lo ! the sun wheeling (sic) high o'er the hill ;
Yet no one in the mill seems to me to be stirring,
The busy wheel is silent ; are you dreaming still ? "
The "busy wheel " may refer to the motion of the sun ; we are
confirmed in this idea by the fact of the wheel being silent though
busy. By poetic license the wheel (or wheeling) of the sun might
easily be called silent, since the motion is too distant to be
audible to our ears. We have not before met with any poet who
has observed that the sun has the power of wheeling ; the sight
must be beautiful and impressive.
Humour, without any particular power of observation, is to
be found in a passage from " Mynheer Jan " : —
" There's the woman with the baby,
Who will take the infant, may be,
On the street-cars or to church, whate'er the case
How the ears of all its dinnin',
Dirty paws upon clean linen ;
You wish the mother kept it in i'.s place."
I3b THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
A few instances of a masterly command of rhythm, showing
how a true poet may subdue the ordinary rules to the prompt-
ing's of his own genius, may now be brought before the reader.
" Our Diva " supplies a charming example : — -
" My dear sister, I am ready,
In here is my wardrobe complete.
A strange dread comes o'er me, my gait is unsteady,
With dread my poor heart in sadness will beat."
It is not, of course, every poet who could hope so entirely to
rid himself of the usual trammels, nor would all think of the
pathetic effect gained by the repetition of the word " dread " in
two successive lines. There are, however, some fair attempts
at rhythmical freedom in " Dorothy " :- —
" Her varied charms such joy to me impart
That I have given her my heart."
And once more : —
" We must all to bed again
Till the sunshine thro' the pane
And the bright morning light
Brings (sic] us day again."
Tautology is a favourite device of our poets. Witness the
two agains, not only occurring within four lines, but also
answering for rhymes. Nevertheless, the latter effect has been
gained by other lyrists, as the following will conclusively prove.
It is culled from " Manteaux Noirs " : —
" I sing love's dulcet, softest lay,
Beneath the pale and waning moon !
Inspired by silvery, lunar ray
My passions pent up pangs allay —
This dashed thing's out of tune ! "
We scarcely know what most to admire in this excerpt.
Besides the delightful assonance caused by "lay" and " allay,"
there is the daring rhyming of "moon" and "tune," to say
nothing of the humour thrown in, as it were, at the end. A
second verse we must permit ourselves, noticing the clever use
of the verb "scoff":—
" Love's sigh's alone shall fill my throat,
Let stupid seers my efforts scoff,
Sweet warbling, zephyr-like, shall float
And love shall mellow ev'ry note !
My upper G's gone off ! "
MARCH i, 1889.] POLYHYMNIA IN COMIC OPERA. 137
It would be a stupid seer, indeed, who would "scoff" such an
effort as this.
From the same opera we may select a further example of
original rhyme, for it has perhaps never been used before : —
" His [Cupid's^ perception is so clear
He is proof against illusion.
Why, when lov'd one grows more dear
Still be cold and undeceiving ? "
The question is unanswerable.
In a concerted piece from " Nell Gwynne " we find the follow-
ing— admirably arranged for a contrast between the happy
lovers and designing villains : — •
" FALCON. To-night thy love-watch be keeping
JESS. "When all the jealous world is sleeping
FALCON. And ev'ry watch-dog is dumb
JESS. Silence ! for they I love not now come !
ROCH. The maids don't show ! Tis absurd !
BUCK. Lay you a thousand these dames keep their word."
The first four lines leave nothing to be desired as a love-duet
of singular simplicity of thought and expression, besides
which we have a piquant freedom of rhythm, and an ingenious
repetition of the word u watch" in two different compounds.
A choice example of bold rhythm may be taken from
" Babette " :—
" Now the competition is over !
Ended alike the hope and fear ;
And the proud and gratified lover,
Gains as his prize his girl so dear !
" So in grateful chorus we're singing,
Long success to custom so rare ;
While the wedding bells wish in their ringing,
Happiness ever to the fair !
" Ah, the cluster ! [of grapes]
Excellent cluster !
Laden with love the prize,
In its berries sparkles the lustre
Glancing from the fair one's eyes."
These poets embarrass us with riches. Here is a changeful
rhythm, so well expressing the bounding rapture of the lovers ;
and here, too, we are compelled to admire the fancy that sees
" lustre glancing" from the eyes !
*38 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
Referring once more to new rhymes, let us give a moment to
•" Mynheer Jan " :—
" We are not the sole offenders,
For society will lend us
Of instances to suife the case a score."
" We are here, being called by our Governor who'd send a
Detachment to keep back the crowd from the splendour
Of one whose connections Castillian lend a
Great charm to the zeal of each trusty defender."
A soldier's zeal should have a charm of its own ; no doubt
its charm is subtly enhanced by the Castillian connections of a
Governor. It behoves all Governors, therefore, to acquire such
connections, if possible.
Then we find in " Indiana" : —
" For himself, administrators and assigns, said Mate agrees
To observe all the covenants set out in the said lease."
In simile and metaphor our poets abound. Some examples
have already been given, and we have space but for one or
two more choice specimens. From " The Yeomen of the Guard "
we take : —
" The rose's sigh
Were as a carrion's cry
To lullaby
Such as I'd sing to thee,
Were I thy bride !"
From " Pepita " :—
" And still the stream doth onward roU
Unceasing in its flow,
Of those who battle for the goal
Decreed for overthrow."
From " Mynheer Jan " :—
" Nor the mighty inundation
Be restrained by mortal hand."
" Thy fertile plains, thy sunny skies,
Thy lofty mountains, snow-clad peaks,
We love — oh feast of mem'ry's eyes,
That to the yearning heart e'er speaks ! "
This feast has not only to feed memory's eyes, but speak to
the heart ! Whom the poets love, work hard !
The sly humour of our lyrists is frequently displayed by a
malicious use of grammar, calculated to tease the purists, or by
MARCH i, 1889.] POLYHYMNIA IN COMIC OPERA. 139
a meaning so recondite that~'it would probably prove a tough
task for even the Browning Society Of the former we may
select one amusing specimen from " Rip Van Winkle " :—
" There all nature slumbers,
Torren's still their numbers.
Never mortal daring
Thither reckless faring
E'er returned the tale
To tell to maiden pale."
v —.
And one from " Dorothy "• follows : —
" Pleasant dreams attend your slumber,
Happy fancies without number
Guide you in the land of sleeping,
While the fairies vigil keeping."
The italics in these are ours.
Then the lady's-maids in " Erminie " make us acquainted
with their accomplishments in terms that would puzzle any but
scientists accustomed to the solution of the stiffest problems :—
" Yes, though fashion often ranges
We are equal to its changes,
Though the waist prevailing 's high up
Or the skirt accepted short ;
Alter bonnets, cap or head-dress,
Tuck or lace confine, or spread dress,
Branching pull back, puff or tie up,
And improving quick as thought."
Some may have their attention diverted by the rhyming of
" short " and " thought," but the verse merits consideration on
other grounds. Ladies would probably be the best authorities
on the identity of a " branching pull back."
In " The Yeomen of the Guard " we read : —
" When a jester
Is outwitted,
Feelings fester (sic),
Heart is lead !
Food for fishes
Only fitted (sif),
Jester wishes
He was dead !
And in " Pepita " :—
" For the evils we see around,
As life progressing (sic),
Modes of cure will have to be found,
They want suppressing."
140 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889
And in " Mynheer Jan " : —
" Oh wondrous love, to what a height
On patriotic wings your flight ! "
And—
" No breath of air makes the ripples flee,
And no clouds the sun's brightness is dimming."
The next specimens, from "Dorothy," contain more than one
interesting enigma : —
" WILDER. Oh fly not yet, 'tis not too late
To bid me hope, or mourn my fate
For lovers learn from early morn
The cruel hand of time to scorn.
SHERWOOD. What matters what the hour may be,
Time was not made for you and me."
" For from daylight a hint we might borrow
And prudence might come with the light ;
Then why should we wait for to-morrow ;
You are queen of my heart to-night."
The puzzle contained in the third and fourth lines is not to be
compared with that in the final quatrain. Putting aside, as an
additional charm, the favourite tautological use of the word
"light," we come at once to the absorbing problem — what is
the hint we are to borrow from daylight ?
Mr. Coffin sings with an impassioned earnestness which affords
convincing proof that he knows all about it, but he probably
had a private "tip" from the poet; and, unless he can be
induced to communicate it, there are doubtless many who will
get grey hairs during the attempt to discover the secret.
Reluctantly we leave our authors. There are many comic
operas into which we have had no time to dip, but which, we
are sure, would afford matter for meditation, and a reverent
amazement, to any who may have leisure to peruse them, and
become acquainted with their hidden beauties !
MARCH i, i889J TOLD TO THE TRJBE. ,4i
Told to the Tribe.
THE SPANISH GYPSY'S STORY.*
HEN the Frenchman*^ host
O'er our frontier crost
(Full eighty years ago),
Men clapped a musket in my hand,
And bade me fight for Spanish land —
A pure-bred Zincalo !
O, the Gypsy's trade is not to war,
Chachipc ! t
It is to lie, and cheat, and chore;
Chachipc !
And if the Busne all were dead
'Twould be a fine fair world ? I said;
Chachipc!
O, the bread was poor,
And the thin wine sour
('Twas eighty years ago).
Full lean the Gentile waxed, I wot,
While savoury stew smoked in the pot
Of the pure-bred Zincalo !
For where the dead horse lies, is meat ;
Chachipc!
And the hedgehog's flesh is white and sweet ;
Chachipe !
And he who knows to lourc% and 'gin $
Need never wear an empty skin ;
Chachipc !
* An incident of the Peninsular War of 1808-14. See "The Zincali," by George
Borrow, published by John Murray & Co.
t Literally "Truth," a confirmatory ejaculation, synonymous with the Tc. hipcn of
the English Romany.
£ Steal. § To reckcn, or barter.
i42 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
Down the rocky height
Came the bayonets bright —
('Twas eighty years ago).
Navarras' sandy plains ran red ;
Five Gabine fell to the blade
Of the pure-bred Zincalo !
For the Gypsy loves not open strife,
Chachipe !
But drao * and the stealthy knife ;
Chachipe !
Though, set him face to face with Death,
He'll fight while he has blood and breath !
Chachipe !
It was breast to breast
That we swayed and pressed
(Full eighty years ago) ;
I fought, and cursed, and thrust, and gored ;
Then cast away my broken sword —
Ah, the true-bred Zincalo !
And, naked-handed, strove and smote,
Chachipe !
A Frenchman gripped me by the throat ;
Chachipe !
I slipped upon the bloody field,
Upon my breast the Frenchman kneeled —
Chachipe!
Then one long last look
At the sky I took
('Twas eighty years ago),
I saw the gleaming bayonet rise —
I met the Frenchman's glossy eyes —
And shrieked out, " Zincalo ! "
The spirit of the Gypsy race —
Chachipe!—
Looked through the windows of his face ;
Chachipe !
* Poison.
MARCH i, i889.] TOLD TO THE TRIBE. 143,
And by this sign Egyptians are
Known brothers under every star !
Chachipe !
Then he raised my head —
I was almost dead, —
(Twas eighty years ago).
I saw the drops of silver creep
Down his dusk cheek and fainedto weep
With the pure-bred Zincalo.
And " Let the lean dogs fight," said he ;
Chachipe !
" What matters that to thee or me r "
Chachipe !
" For no king born of Busne brood
Shall the true Rom shed brother's blood !
Chachipe !
Till the round red sun
In the west sank down
('Twas eighty years ago) ;
We sat upon a grassy knoll,
I shared my flask and broke my roll
With the pure-bred Zincalo !
We sat together there and spoke,
Chachipe!
Of strange things known to Gypsy folk,.
Chachipe !
Like music was the Gypsy's voice ;
His secrets made my heart rejoice —
Chachipe !
Did the French retreat ?
Were the Spaniards beat ?
('Twas eighty years ago ?)
The fierce fray thundered to its end . . .
He pressed me in his arms — my friend,
And my brother Zincalo !
J44 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
" Farewell ! Farewell ! " again cried he.
Chachipe !
We kissed ; I felt his tears on me.
Chachipe !
He waved his hand aloft — was gone !
I joined the Spanish faittalon !
Chachipe !
CLO GRAVES.
" An Organised Opposition/5
BY FRED. W. BROUGHTON.
ACK TATTERSAL and I were inseparable friends
until But this is the point of my story, and wants,
of course, properly " leading up to."
He was a bit of an author, so was I ; though both
bits put together made, I suppose, a very small
fractional part of a real orthodox — perhaps I ought
to say atithor-&(y& — literary man. But we were both young, high-
spirited, ambitious, and (we thought) clever, so that it was
impossible to say what, in course of time, we might be in the
great world of letters. At the particular period of which I write
we were both obscure, but not absolutely unknown. Jack had
published a novelette (at his own expense), which had been
favourably noticed, and so artistically if not financially successful,
whilst several fugitive poems from my own pen had appeared
in periodicals of unimpeachable status and respectability. On
the whole, therefore, each of us was fairly justified in calling
himself a bit of an author, and feeling, to the extent of that bit
at any rate, superior to the ordinary humdrum level of our
fellow men and women. It is scarcely necessary for me to say
that neither of us felt contented to remain in these very out-
skirts of journalism, and if we could not, so to speak, win a
handsome residence in the heart of the city of literature, we
would at least strive hard for a habitation in a respectable
suburb. The one question which it seemed desirable for us to
settle was what particular line of work we proposed respectively
MISS GERTRUDE KINGSTON.
" One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name."
SCOTT— Old Mortality.
SPECIALLY IAKF.N 1'OK "TJIF. rilf,Al'RF, ?!
KARRAUD, LONDON AND LIVERPOOL.
MARCH i, 1889.] « AN ORGANISED OPPOSITION." 145
to adopt in order to reach eventually the happy terminus of our
hopes and aspirations. We discussed the matter very seriously
and very often, and at last Jack decided, after searching self-
examination, that the novelist's laurels were accessible to him,
whilst I, after an equally diligent scrutiny of my own abilities,
resolved to fight earnestly for the playwright's wreath. Our
minds thus commendably made up, we set our backs, as literary
pilgrims, to the City of Obscurity, and jpanfully turned our faces
to the Zion of Fame, which we intuitively felt could be our only
real abiding-place.
About six weeks after this notable determination I was in a
position to tell Jack that by dint of much thought and hard
work I had all but completed a one- act comedy, which I
purposed sending to the manager of the Royal "Thalia"
Theatre, for his perusal and consideration. I may have been
mistaken, but it somehow occurred to me that he didn't receive
the news with that cordiality and warmth which one expects in
such circumstances to find in an old friend and sympathetic
fellow-worker, but I considerately attributed his apathy to the
natural concern which at this time he must necessarily feel for
the progress of his own work — a mighty romance just then, as I
understood him, in the early and difficult stage of evolution.
When, a week later, I was enabled to inform Jack, with some
show of pardonable pride, that I had just posted off my play to
the "Thalia," I was considerably taken aback to hear that he
also had left a comedietta at the same house.
"You never said anything about this a week ago, old man,"
I said, with just a touch of reproach, if not actual sulkiness, in
my tone.
" N — no, I never thought of it," he answered. Now, I'm not
a particularly moral man, and by no means methodistically
accurate in all I say myself, but I confess I felt a trifle shocked
at Jack's reply. I was convinced it was a lie, and his own
fidgety manner and nervous way of speaking confirmed me in
my conviction. I was simultaneously savage and sad ; savage
that he should descend to such an untruth at all, and sad that it
should be deliberately told to mey his own familiar friend, of all
persons in the world. However, I swallowed my pique with an
effort, turned the subject off with some platitude of the "room
enough for all " type, .and went my way.
NEW SERIFS. — VOL. XIII. M
146 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
My revenge, however, came a few days afterwards in the
shape of a letter from the " Thalia " management intimating
the glorious fact that my piece had been read and approved,
and that on my acceptance of certain terms (in which, of course, I
readily acquiesced) it should be produced on the earliest possible
opportunity. This was victory indeed, and in my triumph I
felt that I could afford to forgive Jack Tattersal his falsehood,
and even to regard him with a sentiment akin to magnanimous
pity. By the good office of a journalistic friend the forthcoming
production of my little work at the "Thalia" was paragraphed
in two or three of the theatrical papers, and I showed these to
Jack when I next met him. I think it is as impossible for me
to forget, as it is for me to describe, the expression that over-
spread his face on that occasion, but from that moment I
instinctively felt he hated me. There could be no question on
that point. When a man begins to studiously and persistently
avoid one with whom he has been wont to seek constant com-
panionship, there is something radically wrong between the two,
and, as I have declared, I was sure that that " something " in
our case was a fierce and unwholesome enmity on Jack
Tattersal' s part. However, so far as our literary rivalry was
concerned, I had hitherto undoubtedly the best of the quarrel,
and the advantage, I admit, afforded me substantial consolation
for the loss of my old chum's friendship and goodwill.
Time went on, and, insomuch as it brought me no further
tidings of my play, it went on with irritating tardiness, as it
always does to authorlings in my suspensive and hope-deferred
condition. At last I ventured to write a timid inquiry to my
manager as to how matters were progressing, and though his
reply was not exactly unsatisfactory, still it created within me
certain vague feelings of uneasiness and misgiving. Miss
Montgomery, he explained, a promising young actress who
was cast to play the heroine in my comedy, had been seized
with sudden indisposition, which had necessitated for a time
the suspension of rehearsals, to which, by the way, it struck
me I certainly ought to have been invited. In these circum-
stances he had considered it advisable to be prepared with
another curtain-raiser, in which the lady in question would not
be required; but I might rest assured that this provisional
second piece would only be given priority of production in case
.MARCH i, 1889.] « AN ORGANISED OPPOSITION." 147
of emergency — that is, in case of Miss Montgomery's unduly
prolonged illness. This information was unpalatable, but then
its reason was unexceptionable, and however much I might
deplore the circumstances I could not reasonably blame any-
one. Happily, I was soon relieved from the agitation into
which the explanation had thrown me, for very shortly after-
wards I saw with delight an advertisement in the morning
papers, definitely announcing thevfirst representation of my
comedy on a specific date. Matters had now indeed assumed
an appreciable form, and I lived from day to day in a Paradise
of joyful anticipation and pride. Every night, before my bed-
room mirror, I practised the modest bow I should so soon be
called upon to make in front of the curtain before a well-pleased
audience, the while picturing to myself, a little ungenerously,
the chagrin and envy of Jack Tattersal as he would in rage
and jealousy eye me from some secluded corner in the pit.
At last ! at last the eventful evening came, and, at a quarter
to seven o'clock, found me in brand new dress suit, specially
ordered and made for so auspicious an occasion, at the stage
door of the "Thalia" theatre. I flew upstairs to look if the
scene were set as I opined it ought to be, and to inquire if all
the " properties " had been provided and were ready to hand.
A sensation of faintness came over me and my legs trembled
violently beneath me, when I discovered that, although the
scenery was arranged in every detail, and all was prepared
for the raising of the curtain, it was not the scene of my play.
I sought the stage-manager, and from him learned the explana-
tion in all its hideous and horrible truth.
Miss Montgomery had suffered a sudden relapse and could not
appear ! I went out into the street, and seeking a quiet court, my
pent-up grief found escape in a short but violent childish flood
of tears. I know this is a shameful confession to make, but
then I was only a youngster, and it seemed as if my whole life
and welfare were wrapped up in that first dramatic effort of
mine. Besides, the thought of Jack Tattersal's gleeful triumph
at my disappointment bitterly tormented me, and, I fancy, really
occasioned me deeper grief than even the blow that was dealt
to my own individual feelings.
When I had decently recovered myself I sought my stall in
the theatre, and awaited curiously the performance of the piece
148 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
substituted for my own. As I looked round the auditorium, it
seemed to me that the pit and gallery had not, in the matter of
occupants, that appearance of intelligence and respectability
one is accustomed to see in a first-class West End theatre.
Every other person had about him that peculiar, indescribable
je ne sais quoi, which you somehow associate with Drury
Lane, or Clare Market, or the minor thoroughfares of the
Borough. Collectively and individually, too, they seemed
disposed to be noisy, and exclamations were uttered, and
remarks exchanged, more in keeping with the gallery of the old
"Vic" than a house of the "Thalia's" aristocratic stamp.
The conclusion of the overture by the orchestra diverted my
attention from the motley assembly behind and above me to the
stage before me. The " ting " of the prompter's bell sounded,
and the house for the moment was hushed to silence. Instead
of the immediate rise of the curtain looked for by the audience,,
there Avas a pause, during which the gentleman, who had over-
whelmed me with such ill tidings half an hour before, stepped
to the footlights, and very nervously, almost inaudibly,
announced Miss Montgomery's indisposition, and the unavoid-
able substitution of a different first piece from that officially
billed and advertised. At this moment I caught a glimpse of
Jack Tattersal, who was sitting at the back of the dress circle,
and I almost forgot my own trouble in the shock which the
ghastly pallor of his face gave me. And when the nervous
and indistinct stage- manager further gave forth that the sub-
stituted play was an untried one, by a new author, namely
" Mr. John A. Tattersal," my friend of yore looked as if he
would have fainted outright.
The curtain rose, and my rival's piece opened, freshly, brightly,
wittily — I was constrained in spite of everything to admit — yet
the pit began to "chaff" and the gallery to grow noisy, and
despite the "hush, hush" protests of the sensible and appre-
ciative of the audience, the hubbub waxed livelier and louder.
Little touches of pathos were received with derision, sharp
sallies of humour only welcomed with a howl or a hoot. The
performers, at the outset naturally nervous in tackling an
entirely new piece after irregular rehearsals, became in turn
uneasy, frightened, and at last altogether dazed and oblivious.
Demoralisation reigned supreme until the curtain fell amidst a
MARCH i, 1889.] WILLY BLAND. I4Q
perfect hurricane of merciless yells and hisses. Indignation at
the unjust treatment the play had received, and pity for Jack
Tattersal, struggled for the topmost place in my heart. All
acrimonious feeling had fled, and my old love for my pal came
back to me with all its tenderness, and I hastened to offer him
what poor sympathy I might. But he had fled, and well he
might, poor devil! I found out tjie next .day that he had
arranged what theatrical folks know as an organised opposition
to my piece, and paid a couple of hundred uneducated and
unscrupulous roughs to ruin its reception with indiscriminate
rowdyism and riot. His gang had either incompletely under-
stood his iniquitous instructions, or failed properly to hear the
stage-manager's nervous and almost whispered explanation.
At any rate, Jack was completely hoist with his own petard,
and though his little comedy was full of excellence, it was
absolutely ruined on its first night beyond hope of redemption,
and was never tried again, either at the " Thalia " or any other
theatre. As for me — well, Miss Montgomery never recovered,
and 1 am to this day one of the noble army of the great
unacted.
Willy Bland.
BY HERBERT VERE.
HEN the tempest blows its trumpet and flaps its
wings of cloud,
The wild North Sea, off Yorkshire coast, roars
angrily and loud ;
Then many a ghastly tribute the sea gives to the
shore,
In drowned folk, and battered wreck, and shattered spar and
oar;
And by the fisher's fireside, when the nights are long and cold,
Full many a tale of rescue brave and daring deed is told ;
But never feat of bravery was done on sea or land
To match the deed that wrought the death of little Willy Bland.
1 50 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
The home returning fisher fleet had battled all the night
With wind and wave, and now at noon, wrecked, shattered,
hove in sight,
In sight of anxious crowds on shore, who loud to heaven prayed,
The wife for son or husband brave, for sweetheart fond the
maid ;
But vain were prayers or woman's tears to still the tempest's
roar;
One thought prevailed — save as a wreck no smack could reach
the shore.
The lifeboat ! Ho, the lifeboat ! manned by a hardy crew,
With lips firm set and eyes that said " We go to * die or do,' "
Skims o'er the waves, now tumbling on a mountain-crest of
white,
Now plunging headlong downward in the watery womb of
night,
But ever bravely onward, cheered by the crowds on shore,
Who rose and bent, and bent and rose, as though each pulled an
oar;
Onward and ever onward till evening's lid of grey
Drooped down the sky and folded up the weary eye of day.
" Lost, lost ! all lost ! " the cry that mixt with the storm's angry
roar,
" There's not a soul afloat to-nig-ht will live to see the shore."
Pained eyes from land streamed eastward to catch the op'ning
eye
Of dawn, that flushed with silver light the angry sea and sky ;.
And never brought the gentle dawn a fairer, dearer sight,
Than the lifeboat riding bravely thro' the op'ning gates ot
night.
" The lifeboat ! Ho, the lifeboat ! " rang out from hearts elate,
Safe from the ocean's thousand graves it brings a precious
freight,
With laughter and hand-clapping and cheers both long and
loud
The lifeboat and its human freight were welcomed by\ the
crowd.
MARCH i, 1889.] GLANCE ROUND THE GALLERIES. 151
'•s..
But 'mong the happy voices that cheered along the strand
One gladsome voice was missing — the voice of Willy Bland.
He went not with the fishing-fleet — a weakly lad of ten
Were little worth to rough it in the work of sailor men.
They searched the village, searched the shore, down where the
skiffs were moored,
And all save little Willy's boat were firm and fast secured ;
At once it dawned upon the crow^that, 'mid the tempest's roar,
The lad had put to sea to bring his father safe to shore.
And so he had — unseen, unknown — he urged his cockle-shell
Into the ocean's yawning womb, into the tempest's hell.
A wave brought in a message from the demon of the storm
That filled the coast with sorrow — 'twas Willy's lifeless form !
Oh ! never deed of bravery was done on sea or land
To match the deed that wrought the death of little Willy Bland.
A Glance Round the Galleries.
N the second series of "A Century of British Art, from
1737 to 1837," Sir Coutts Lindsay has gathered
together at the Grosvenor Gallery a collection ot
pictures, every one of which possesses distinct in-
terest, and many superlative beauty. Hogarth and
William Blake span a wide gulf in art, and when we
pass in review the great ones who have come and gone in the
century, leaving priceless treasures behind them to the world,
we can reflect with no little pride on our English School.
The chief feature in the galleries is the landscape art of such
men as old Crome, John Cotman, Bonnington, Morland, and
others, whose genius, never recognised or appreciated by the
Royal Academy of that time, set the seal of immortality on
this branch of painting. Excellent examples by George Mor-
land are here, including " The Carrier's Stable," a subject after
the painter's own heart, though probably painted from memory in
the King's Bench Prison. Full of grace and delicate beauty
1:52 THE THEATRE. [MARCH, -i, 1889.
are his little subject pictures also which adorn the walls, " The
Surprise " being an exceptionally beautiful work. Had George
Romney painted no other portrait than that of Mrs. Jordan, he
would have carved himself a niche in the temple of fame.
Bewilderingly fascinating in graceful simplicity of dress, its
whiteness relieved only by a pink sash, the lovely actress
gazes writh soft dreamy eyes out from the canvas, and we can
imagine how, nearly one hundred years ago, she brought
London to her feet as Peggy, in " The Country Girl." We are
indebted to the Queen for two famous pictures by Sir David
Wilkie, " Blind Man's Buff" and " The Penny Wedding," both
in excellent preservation, while the Earl of Aylesford enriches
the gallery with Sir Joshua Reynolds' superb portrait of Frances
Countess of Dartmouth, a woman who knew trouble if the
rather sad expression in the face is any index. " The Masters
Gawler" shows the same painter in equally strong light, the
faces of the two boys being a triumph of art, and the expression
in the eyes marvellously caught.
" Gibraltar Watering Place, Back River, Norwich," by John
Crome, is a sunset poem on canvas, full of suggestions, and lumi-
nous in the depth of its tone. Constable's own description of the
famous " Lock " picture is true and unexaggerated : " it is
silvery, windy, and delicious ; all health and the absence of
everything stagnant, and is wonderfully got together." It is a
great work of a great master. To those who are not familiar
with Cotman's best works, the " Scene on the East Coast "
will be a pleasant surprise, and it is as fine and powerful an
example of the Norwich painter's genius as could be desired.
Reminding one at first of Watteau in its graceful and dainty
beauty, is Gainsborough's "The Mall in St. James's Park,"
with its beautiful and yet artificial landscape background.
Hogarth is strongly represented with the " Thornhill Family,"
while, in striking contrast to this picture of orthodox respect-
ability is the equally fine "Punch Club," drawn with all the keen
humour and satire of the painter. Etty, Vincent, Wilson, Blake,
and Stothard are amongst the many in this goodly company,
not forgetting Sir Edwin Landseer and John Linnell, but
space in which to mention their works is not at our disposal,
and we must reluctantly draw our visit to a close.
THE NEW GALLERY. — Probably not even the most sanguine
MARCH i, 1889.] GLANCE ROUND THE GALLERIES. 153
.
members of the Committee of the Stuart Exhibition ever
thought that the various relics of the ill-fated Royal House
now exhibited in this gallery would awaken such an interest,
and prove such: a success as they undoubtedly have done, and
are doing daily. Those who were more or less indiiferent
before to the great House have had their sympathy kindled
when brought face to face with the royal portraits, and sur-
rounded with the trappings and fne suits of kingly woe. Only
a Philistine could fail to be moved by these relics, which give
flesh and blood as it were to history ; and, whether we be Mon-
tagues or Capulets, time has cast a halo of reverence around
them. From the long past of three hundred years Mary Queen
of Scots, wearing the " Deuil Blanc" for her first husband,
Francis II., gazes scornfully out from the dark canvas
queenly, dignified and pale, as she probably looked on the
last morning, when six hours only before her. death she wrote
to Henry III. of France the touching and pathetic letter which
is here exhibited, protesting her innocence, and which she
signed "Mercredy, a deulx heures apres minuit Vostre tres
affectionne et bien bonne sceur Mari R." The omission of the
final letter e in her name is of deep interest, as, being acci-
dental, we can understand how the torrent of thoughts rushing
through her racked brain would cause such a blunder. The •
carved oak cradle and this letter are the Alpha and Omega ot
her sad history.
Among the pictures -stand out in princely prominence and
splendour Sir Antony Vandyck's several portraits of Charles I.,
Henrietta Maria, and their two eldest children, so well known
to art lovers, while Sir Peter Lely and Sir Godfrey Kneller give
us interesting portraits of the beautiful and brilliant Henrietta,
Duchess of Orleans, often called " La Belle Henriette," who
inspired Waller's verses ; of Mary, Princess of Orange ; of
Charles II., and of his neglected wife, Catherine of Braganza,
whom Evelyn described as " prettily shaped, languishing eyes ;
for the rest lovely enough." Deeply interesting are the many
priceless relics belonging to Charles I., and although some may
be tempted to regard those worn on the day of his execution in
the same generous spirit as the " wood of the true cross " is
viewed in, they are nevertheless of pathetic import. The Duke
of Portland lends the famous rosary which Queen Henrietta
154 - THE THEATRE [MARCH i, 1889.
Maria is said to have in her necessity pawned for £3,000 ; Lord
Balfour of Burleigh consents to part with for a time the exquisitely
enamelled Ciborium of Limoges manufacture, given to one of
his ancestors by Queen Mary ; and one case is filled with the
personal relics of Flora MacDonald and of Prince Charles
Edward. To enumerate all that is interesting here would
require a volume the size of the well-compiled catalogue of the
exhibits, and the visitor would be robbed of many a pleasant
surprise. The new gallery will well repay not only one but
many visits.
MESSRS. DOWDESWELL'S GALLERY. — At this tasteful little
gallery in New Bond Street may be viewed, in addition to other
attractions, the most remarkably fine and powerful dry-point
etching we remember to have seen for a long time. In
etching Frans Hals' famous picture of "The Banquet of the
Officers of the Archers of Saint Adrian," one of Haarlem's
treasures, Mr. Mortimer Menpes has proved himself a
great master of this difficult art, and has succeeded in trans-
ferring to his plate not only the boldness and picturesque
strength of the painting, but has suggested, and, in fact, re-
produced as far as possible its luminous tone and colour. Every
face has its own striking individuality, and the drawing of the
ruffs is a triumph of the etcher's needle. Mr. Menpes will print
only a limited number, and each with his own hands, on
Japanese paper, the mellow quality and softness of which are of
great advantage to the etching. The list of subscribers is being
rapidly filled up.
At the sign of the Rembrandt Head, in Vigo Street, Mr.
Robert Dunthorne is publishing five important and masterly
etchings which Mr. Macbeth, A.R.A., has executed from the
following famous pictures by Velasquez and Titian in the
Madrid Gallery: — The " Alonzo Cano," the "Tapestry
Weavers," the " Surrender of Breda," by Velasquez ; the
voluptuously beautiful " Garden of Love " and " Saint Margaret,'"
after Titian. These are, beyond doubt, Mr. Macbeth' s greatest
works, and form a valuable addition to the world's art treasures.
HERBERT LEE COLLINSON.
MARCH i, 1889 OUR PLAY-BOX. 153
©uv
That enthusiastic and floral welcomes should be showered on Mr. Wilson
Barrett on his reappearance in London was but natural. The gifted actor's
visits are all too fleeting, nor is he likely to cease roaming yet awhile. As
he informed us in a speech, which of course was insisted upon, Miss Grace
Hawthorne, owing to whose courtesy he was able to be at the Princess's
for twelve weeks, having elected to stay there, he must perforce be much
away from London, unless some millionaire, " some Colonel North, is
willing to build him a theatre." Let us hope that this day is not far
distant ; we cannot spare Mr. Barrett for long.
'Tis over four years since the "newHamlet," as it was termed, first appeared
in London. Since then, Mr. Barrett also told us, it has travelled in his
company some 25,000 miles, and evoked about one mile of criticism.
Although it was quite impossible to follow all the hints contained therein,
he had grafted on his first conception as much of the good advice as was
not entirely at variance with his own convictions, thus showing an earnest
desire to succeed. If any actor could again face a London audience, in
such a part as Hamlet, without some trepidation or even terror, he was not
that man. Mr. Wilson Barrett was deeply moved as he spoke, and added
that his fear was like that of the child of a good father, for, whatever his
shortcomings, he knew that judgment would be tempered by kindness
and mercy.
And now what is the outcome of these concessions to criticism that was
written in all good faith and fairness — of added thought and study given to
a part which can no more be perfected by rehearsal away from the critical
influence of audiences than all the parade drill in the world can make a
good soldier until he has been repeatedly under fire ? The outcome is a
new and matured reading, far more artistic and far more human than that
to which, four years ago, many of us took exception. First of all, let us
not forget that to Mr. Wilson Barrett is due the best acting version of
"Hamlet" that has ever been put on the stage. No part is sacrificed to give
undue prominence to the leading character. And surely by this time one
has seen the folly of raising the red rag of controversy over such things as.
the selection of one word in lieu of another, of carrying on raging warfare
on the subject of Hamlet's age. Our convictions may be with or against
the actor's ; but what matter such trifles ? We want to see the working
out of the problem of Hamlet's inward man ; we want to know if to us will
appear only a counterfeit presentment of the poet's ideal hero, or whether
156 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
we shall see him wakened into life. Histrionically speaking, Mr. Wilson
Barrett's Hamlet has always been a fine performance, and from an
elocutionary point of view good. This was enough for the general public,
but the Shakespearean student missed something. Hamlet had become a
resolute man biding his time for revenge, hard to the woman he was
supposed to love, and merely assuming madness for a purpose ; there was
more anger than bitterness in his soul, and we seemed to have lost the
poetical side of the character. Not so now. That Hamlet is really mad is
an unsustainable theory, and shows but a very superficial understanding of
Shakespeare. But it does not follow that his mind is in a healthy state ; it
is as much unhinged as his nerves are unstrung. This is now well-defined.
The first speech, " Seems, madam," given rather monotonously on the first
night of this revival, did not lead us to expect the light and shade given to
the rest of the performance, but as the scenes followed each other we were
delighted to note the newer and truer reading. The exit at the end of the
first act was excellent. Next, the scene with the Ghost was far more
impressive, the cry of agony was indeed wrung from his heart ; we now felt
that, although resolved to obey, the dire task was crushing his soul and
withering his young life. Then in the scene with Ophelia, what a welcome
change was here ! Hamlet was no longer simply irritable ; his tenderness
and sorrow brought back all the poetry we longed for. The scene with
Yorick's skull was given in a poetical and touching vein. His great
soliloquies and his speech to the players were admirably delivered ; his
scenes with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern subtle and deeply thought out.
Another improvement is the greater outward show of friendly affection to
Horatio, who, in the person of Mr. S. M. Carson, hardly responded to this.
Space precludes my going into further detail, but Mr. Wilson Barrett's
Hamlet, as it now stands, should win the approval of those who, four years
ago, refused to accept his reading, I being one of the number. It is a fine
and artistic impersonation. Where we remained unmoved we are now
touched and impressed, because the actor now gives us a Hamlet who
feels not merely with his brain, but also with his heart. And is it not
from the heart that all true poetry springs ?
Miss Eastlake is again one of our very best Ophelias ; her mad scene is
touching and highly effective. It would be impossible to find a more per-
fect Gravedigger than Mr. George Barrett. Mr. Hudson's mannerism is
rather painful, but Mr. Cooper Cliffe's Laertes deserves praise. Polonius
is well represented by Mr. A. Melford, and so is the Ghost by Mr. Elliot.
By the by, the slight break in the voice at the line, "Speak to her,
Hamlet," was good ; it was like a sudden remembrance that once he loved
the guilty woman.
MARCH i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. i57
"THE LADY OF LYONS."
Princess's Theatre, \\Yilnrsday afternoon, :i()th January, 1889.
Cast precisely as it was at the Globe Theatre, "The Lady oi Lyons" calls
forth almost the very same words I used last year. Mr. A. Melford is
again an excellent Deschappelles, Mr. Cooper Cliffe a remarkably good
Glavis, and Mrs. Henry Leigh and Miss Alice Cooke do well as Madame
Deschappelles and Widow Melnotte. Mr. S. M. Carson now undertakes the
part of Gaspard, in perhaps an over-boisterous manner. Mr. Hudson
would do well to mend his gait; it was^bad enough as King Claudius, but
as Beauseant it is far more pronounced. Such a slouch — I am sorry to
have to use the word — is entirely out of place in an ex-aristocrat and a man
of fashion. Mr. George Barrett's Colonel Damas is far better for having
gained some ruggedness, still the occasional touch of the martinet might
be more conveyed. Miss Eastlake has improved in her rendering of
Pauline, but the last act remains her best effort because the most true. In
the first act she looks inexpressibly sweet, but the pride and vanity are not
sufficiently depicted. The cottage scene is unequal ; excellent in her
rebuke of Beauseant, her " All is forgiven, I am thine ! " was not given
with that rush of feeling, that sudden awakening of love, that would give
the whole world for Claude. It seemed impossible that Mr. Wilson Barrett
should improve on his already great creation of Claude, still I think it has
gained in finish without losing any of its freshness. In the face of all the
Claudes that are and have been, Mr. Barrett has made the part specially his
own. By the intensity of his acting, which discards all 'point-making
(what other Claude before him has not described his Palace to the audience?} ;
by the true pathos and the real dignity wherewith he has clothed the cha-
racter he makes us forget that this rather stagy hero is speaking lines that
are artificial and stilted. Under his touch Claude becomes very human
indeed, his words are true and touching, and tears of sympathy come into
our eyes. Striking the right key at the outset, there is not a discord
throughout. Mr. Wilson Barrett truly begins his short season in a masterly
manner, for he has never acted better.
"A FOOL'S PARADISE."
An original play, in three acts, by SYDNEY GRUNDY.
First produced in London, at the Gaiety Theatre, on the afternoon of February 12, 1889.
Lord Normantower . . .. Mr. E.W.GARDINER.
The Hon. Tom Verinder Mr. R. SAUNDKKS.
Sir Peter Lund, Bart.,
M.D., F.R.S Mr. T. if. WENMAN.
Philip Selwyn .. .. .. Mr. H. B. CONWAY.
Price .. .. .. Mr. MARTIN.
Mrs. Selwyn . . .. Miss GERTRUDE KINGSTON.
Kate Derwent .. Miss KATE RORKE.
Mildred Selwyn .. Miss MARY COLLETTE.
Johnson Miss EMILY WARD.
This play first saw the footlights, for copyright purposes, October 7, 1887,
at the Prince of Wales Theatre, Greenwich. It was then called "The
Mousetrap," and has also been acted under that name in America. To
London it is now presented as "A Fool's Paradise." What's in a name?
After all, the play's the thing ; and in this case it truly asserts itself by its
V58 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
excellence. We are introduced to a home of perfect happiness, were it not
that its master,- Philip Selwyn, is out of health. Married to the most fasci-
nating of women, whom he adores, and who appears all tenderness and
•devotion to him; his sister, dear little Mildred, has for governess a sweet
true woman, Kate Derwent — one who has endeared herself to Philip and
Mildred, and is looked upon more as a friend and sister than as a depen-
dent. Philip is expecting the visit of his greatest friend, Lord Norman-
tower, and we feel ready to agree with Sir Peter, the eminent physician,
when he remarks, " I seem to have dropped into a small Paradise ; " but,
•" Where's the serpent?" queries the astute man of the world. We are not
long in discovering that the beautiful reptile is no other than Mrs. Selwyn,
familiarly called Mousie. In her, Normantower recognises the flirt, the
garrison hack, who once fascinated him, then threw him over because he
was poor and she had the chance of marrying money ; until now he ignored
who was her husband. He no longer loves her, but he will not betray the
woman who was false to him, and wreck Philip's happiness, so he is silent.
Not so the fair siren ; as soon as they are alone she pleads for his forgive-
ness, tells him she hates her husband, and still loves him. Repulsed, she
will not believe his love is dead, but that he is loyal to his friend, and, were
she not a wife, it might be different. What little feeling her hard, am-
bitious, selfish heart is capable of is centred in Normantower, and the
additional attraction of his having come into a title. Philip has made a
•will in her favour, and Sir Peter, baffled at first by strange symptoms, dis-
covers that this model wife is slowly poisoning her trusting husband. Sir
Peter is possessor of a family secret. Philip's father on his deathbed
confessed to him that he had committed bigamy, deserting his wife and
daughter, and leaving the money which came from her to Philip. Sir Peter
has traced the daughter, and found her to be Kate Derwent, one of his
nurses at Guy's Hospital. It is he who has placed her near her brother
and sister, that friendship might spring up between them before any
revelation was made. When Kate learns the truth, her generous
nature refuses to disgrace her father's memory, and to impoverish those
she has learned to love. Sir Peter, however, sees in this restitution
the means of shielding Philip's life, for his wife will then gain nothing
by his death, and he speaks out. But Kate again refuses that the
truth should be openly known, the only compromise being that Philip
is to make a new will in her favour. Mousie apparently consents to this,
but determines he shall not live to sign it. Infuriated at the discovery that
Normantower and Kate 'love each other, she tells him that Kate is her
husband's mistress, and nearly succeeds in parting them for ever. But Sir
Peter, who has been Watching her like a cat, and dexterously" laying traps
for her, at last openly convicts Mousie of being a liar and a poisoner. And
the woman, braving it out, drinks that last fatal double dose of poison,
and, with a bitter cynical " Good night to all of you," goes off the stage
to die. A commendable finale. Such is the very bare outline of an
interesting, fascinating, and well-constructed play, full of excellent detail
MARCH i, 1889. 1 OUR PLAY-BOX. 159
which it is impossible to mention in a brief review. Admirably drawn
characters, and dialogue that is both natural and witty, show Mr. Sydney
Grundy in his very best manner. /Such a play should prove greatly attrac-
tive when placed in some regular bill. It gives remarkable opportunities
for good acting, nor were such opportunities lost. Miss Mary Collette was
a dear little girl, and Mr. Saunders amusing as her boy lover ; Mr. Gardiner
a gentlemanly and genial Normantower ; and Mr. Conway showed great
earnestness and depth of feeling as Philip. A most difficult part is that of
Sir Peter, requiring subtlety and blihatness, sharp wit and kindliness. To
personate in an absolutely natural and true manner the man clever enough
to outwit such a woman as Mousie requires an actor of the greatest merit.
Mr. Wenman was simply perfect ; it was a magnificent creation in every
point. The beautiful serpent of this fool's paradise found an able exponent
in Miss Gertrude Kingston, who, from the moment when Mousie feels the
ground slipping from under her feet, was admirable ; the recklessness of
the bad woman at bay could not have been better depicted. But Miss
Kingston has made such rapid strides of late that she deserves to be criti-
cised as a clever artist and no longer as a promising beginner. She must
therefore be told of her mistake in the early part of the play by giving to
the character the same cold, hard, cynical tone which did so well later on.
Mousie is above all a siren ; she has fascinated and charmed two honest
men ; men of that stamp could not love her did they not believe her to be
a good and sweet woman. Miss Kingston forgets that, if from the first the
•audience sees the serpent lurking under the flowers, it should not be made
so apparent to those on the stage. Mousie is a perfect actress, she should
icharm all ; and even in her passionate appeal to her old lover there was
scarce one touch of tenderness. Last, but not least, comes the Kate
Derwent of Miss Kate Rorke, a most sympathetic and earnest perform-
ance, pathetic in her scenes with Philip and Sir Peter, ^charming in the
short love scene. Her great opportunity came when, overhearing a con-
versation, she fancies Normantower wants to marry her for her money
alone. The girl wishes to carry it off with a high hand ; gives him back
his own words in cold, dignified irony at first, warming into anger, and
finally breaking down into sobs of deepest grief. Miss Kate Rorke has
never done anything better than this ; indeed, she was truly grand, and has
perhaps never shown so great a power. MARIE DE MENSIAUX.
"THE BEGUM'S DIAMONDS."
Original Comedy- Drama, in three acts, by J. P. HURST.
First produced at the Avenue Theatre, Tuesday afternoon, January 22, 1889.
Theodore Cowley . . Mr. ERIC LEWIS.
Mr. Cumberland . . Mr. HAMILTON KNIGHT.
Catherine Templeton Miss FLORENCE WEST.
Mrs. Bickleby .. .. Miss NORREYS.
Edward Seymour Tem-
pleton Mr. YORKE STEPHENS.
•Colonel Brudnell,
M.P. . . . Mr. LEWIS WALLER.
Mr. Ferdinand Flossie Bickleby .. Miss VIOLET VANBRUGH.
Bicklehy .. .. Mr. W. F. HAWTREY. Mrs Cowley .. .. Miss ETHEL HOPE.
Tom Bickleby . .. Mr. SYDNEY BROUGH. |
There was a strange mixture of the laughable and the serious in this
.piece ; both were good, but they were not happily blended. There was a
160 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
certain amount of revulsion felt when the audience was suddenly plunged
into a most dramatic incident, the moment before they having been hugely
tickled at some ludicrous situation. Templeton is canvassing the county,,
and has invited his friend Colonel Brudnell to assist him ; the latter, an old
Indian officer, strikes up a Platonic attachment with Mrs. Templeton, and
confides to her the cause of his persistent melancholy. After a few
months of happy married life his wife had returned to Europe and died
without his seeing her again, but among her papers he discovered a portion
of a letter which proved to him not only that she had been false, but
that her lover had stolen from her some valuable jewels known as the
" Begum's diamonds." The Colonel's mission in life is to hunt out the
betrayer and thief. He shows the letter to Mrs. Templeton, and she, to her
horror, recognises in the handwriting, a most peculiar one, her husband's.
Though scarcely believing in all the baseness come to light, she cannot
but despise him, yet to save the father of her child she destroys the letter..
Her end is not accomplished, however, for Templeton writes a list of the
people that Colonel Brudnell is to see in town who will be useful as
political allies, and though the Colonel does not look at it at once, but puts-
it in the pocket of his overcoat, the wife feels that this must be obtained
at all hazards. With this view, after all are supposed to have retired, she
finds the paper, but the Colonel has been watching her, and taking it from,
her, immediately knows who it is that has dishonoured him. Mrs. Tem-
pleton is pleading on her knees to Brudnell that he will not bring disgrace
upon her child, when Templeton, who has been roused to jealousy by the
confidences between his wife and his friend, comes upon them and puts
the worst construction upon what he sees. The Colonel, on his part, brands
him as a seducer and a thief, forming a strong tableau. In the last act
it is made known that Templeton as a very young man was tempted by
Mrs. Brudnell, and that she herself, 'to satisfy her reckless extravagance,,
had parted with the diamonds, causing paste to be substituted for the real
stones. For the comic element we have Mrs. Bickleby, a staid little
woman who, having married her guardian, the father of a family older than
herself almost, thinks that she should assume the most matronly airs.
Her stepson and daughter, full of high spirits, cannot help laughing at the
demure manner and sapient advice that their little mother affects, and
Tom finishes up one of her lectures by bodily lifting her off the ground
and placing her on the top of a cottage piano. Later he plays a terrible
joke on her by persuading Theodore Cowley, an aesthetic poet, that Mrs.
Bickleby is in love with him, and that he must point out to her that he
cannot respond to her passion. So when the poet asks for an interview
Mrs. Bickleby grants it, believing that he is going to propose for Flossie,
her step-daughter, and is scandalised when she learns the real object of
his mission. These five light-comedy parts were capitally played, as was
also that of Mr. Cumberland, the jeweller, who is the means of bringing to
light the misconduct of the deceased Mrs. Brudnell. Mr. Yorke Stephens
had a difficult character in Templeton, but did all that was possible with it.
MARCH i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 161
Mr. Lewis Waller was a little starchy as the Colonel, but still was forcible,
and Miss Florence West strong in her impersonation of Mrs. Templeton.
Mr. W. F. Hawtrey was genially humorous as Mr. Ferdinand Bickleby.
" The Begum's Diamonds," I fear, will require considerable alteration before
it can be made acceptable for a 1 Condon theatre.
"APRIL SHOWERS."
New and Original Three-act Comedy, by Messrs. ROMEK and BELLAMY.
First produced at Terry's Theatre, Thursday afternoon, January 24, 1889.
Lord Lacy Mr. JOHN BKAUCHAMP.
Frank Lacy . . . . Mr. LEWIS WALLKK.
Mr. Clincher . . . . Mr. ALBERT CHEVALIER.
Charlie Clincher . . Mr. WALTER EVERARU.
Servant Mr. CHARLKS.
Mrs. Laurence .. .. Mrs. EDMUNH PHKLKS.
Queenie Laurence .. Miss MAUD MILLBTT.
Maggie Lacy . . . . Miss NORRKYS.
" Oh how the spring of love resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day."
The couplet on the programme fitly explains the plot of this very prettily-
written play, which, though containing much clever epigram and witty
repartee in its dialogue, and causing much laughter, and an occasional
lump in the throat, is of too flimsy material for reproduction, except in the
drawing-room, where it should prove very acceptable. Frank Lacy, who has
been rusticated for some slight escapade, comes home to find that his father,
Lord Lacy, intends to take a new wife in Queenie Laurence, a very
charming girl to whom Frank has given his heart ; so he determines to go
abroad, and Queenie, on the persuasion of her mother, accepts the elder
gentleman, all the while loving the son. Charlie Clincher, a callow youth,
fancies he is " spoony " on Queenie, and to pique her, and in the hope of
kindling a flame in her bosom, persuades Maggie Lacy to allow him to pay
her marked attention. He soon discovers that he really cares for
Maggie ; but, though she dotes upon him, she avenges herself for a
long time by setting down all his ardent protestations as only make-believe,
though of course she takes him into favour again at last, and Lord
Lacy, when he learns the true state of Queenie's affections, gracefully resigns
her to his son. The doings of these, and of a shrewd but rather mercenary
lawyer, Mr. Clincher, who imagines every woman wishes to entrap him into
marriage, and of a worldly mother, Mrs. Laurence, whom Clincher firmly
believes has designs upon him, make up the incidents of the plot. The
excellence of the acting was a theme of universally favourable comment.
Miss Maud Millett was as winsome and tender as possible; and Miss
Norreys had, in the part of Maggie, to blend considerable pathos with
that arch piquancy of which she is so capable an exponent. It was
strange how the characters of Lord Lacy and his son were changed by
the authors in the course of the play : the first was an irascible, cantan-
kerous creature, and the other a light-hearted fellow, somewhat of a scape-
grace. Later they became respectively a suave, polite old gentleman, and
a Byronic, melancholy lover, though neither Mr. Beauchamp nor Mr. Waller
could be blamed for this. Mr. Walter Everard was very happy as the un-
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. N
I 62
THE THEATRE.
[MARCH i, i<
decided Charlie Clincher, and Mr. Chevalier clever as the suspicious
lawyer, hat his make-up was exaggerated. Actors and the surviving
author were called for. It was said that " April Showers " was written
years ago, with a view to its acceptance by the Bancrofts, who then ruled
the destinies of the little theatre in Queen Street, Tottenham Court
Road.
"THE BALLOON."
Farcical Comedy, in three acts, by J. H. DARNLEY and G. MANVILLE FENN.
First produced at a matinee at Terry's, November 13, 1888.
riacc-d in the evening bill at the Strand Theatre, Wednesday, February 6, 1889.
•Dr. Glyini . .
Captain Cameron
Mr. Aubrey Kit/.loli
Dr. Eoyton . .
David .
Todd
Mr. GEORGE GIDDENS.
Mr. FORBES DAWSON.
Mr. ALFRED MALTBY.
Mr. GEORGE K.AIEMOND.
Mr. S. WHITAKER.
Mr. WILTON HERIOT.
Grace Wentworth
Miss ELLALINE TERRISS.
Mrs. Theresa Fitz John Miss'EMiLY MILLER.
Mrs. Rippendale
Miss Vere
Miss KOSE SAKER.
Miss GABRIEL1B GOLD-
NET.
" The Balloon " was so highly spoken of on every side when ic took its
first voyage, that nothing but success
was anticipated for it when it should
be despatched on a longer flight. But,
from some cause or other, on its
second start there must have been
something wrong with the aeronaut or
the air currents, for it did not sail
away as meirily as it should have done. It will be
remembered (as noticed in the December, 1888,
number of THE THEATRE) that the complications
arise from Dr. Glynn imagining that he has poisoned
the aunt of his intended, and from his being so
worried by the return of Mrs. Rippendale, a supposed widow, with
whom he has flirted in the past, and by a bibulous ne'er-do-well,
Aubrey Fit/John, that the wretched doctor
cuts, as he hopes, the
knot of his troubles
by taking flight in
the balloon ; that he
is given up as having
been lost at sea, but,
having escaped, re-
turns to behold, asjhe
imagines, the ghost of
his murdered victim.
'At the Strand Mr.
George Giddens impersonated the doctor, and though his performance was
good, he did not rattle through the part with that spirit that the plot
requires, nor was there that intensity in the description of his experiences
when in mid-air that carried conviction of the torments he had gone
through. Mr. Maltby, the Aubrey Fitzjohn, was very amusing, but he too
MARCH i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 163
.
wanted more dash ; and as so much depended on these two characters, the
play naturally suffered. Miss Rose Saker was a fascinating Mrs. Rippendale,
persistent in gaining her end — either marriage or a comfortable sum as
hush-money. Miss Ellaline Terriss was a natural and pretty ingenue as
Grace Wentworth. "Miss Emily Miller was rather extravagant as Mrs.
Theresa Fitzjohn. Only praise must be accorded to Messrs. Forbes
Dawson, George Raiemond, and Miss Gabrielle Goldney, the original repre-
sentatives of their respective characters. Since the first evening represen-
tation, actors and actresses have shaken more into their places, and " The
Balloon " now goes well and strongly.
" PICKWICK."
New one-act " Dramatic Cantata." Words by F. C. BURNANl). Music by EDWARD SOLOMON.
First produced at the Comedy Theatre, Thursday afternoon, February 7, 1889.
Mrs. Bardell . . .. Miss LOTTIK VKNXK.
Tommy Master ARTHUR KNIOHT
Mr. Samuel Pi jk wick Mr. ARTHUR CKCJL.
The Bator Mr. RUTLAND BARRINGTON.
A series of afternoon performances has been arranged at this theatre, the
principal feature of the programme being provided by the editor cf
" Punch," and this clever writer has never shown himself more happy than
in turning to account the unfortunate predicament that befalls the gallant
old Mr. Pickwick through the misconception that Mrs. Bardell sets upon
his words. Mr. Burnand khas brought into a prominent position the
1 64 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889,
" baker" that is only incidentally mentioned in the famous trial of "Bardell
v. Pickwick." Mrs. Sanders says in her
evidence, " She did not know that Mrs.,
Bardell was at that time keeping com-
pany with the baker, but did know that the
baker was then a single man and is now
married. Couldn't swear that Mrs. Bardell'
was not very fond of the baker, but should
think that the baker was not very fond of
Mrs. Bardell, or he wouldn't have married:
somebody else." The scene opens in Mr.
Pickwick's lodgings, when, after Mrs. Bardell has explained how she put
up a " card "
" to catch the eye
Of the honest passer-by,"
which eventually obtained for her Mr. Pickwick as a tenant, and fore-
shadows her hopes as to his intentions, Master Tommy appears, and in
recitative with his mother explains his mission to the Borough. He
subsequently tells how the generous Pickwick has bestowed on him a
Chilling, when his fond mother asks —
" Would'st thou thy mother this shilling lend ? "
Tommy replies —
" Mother, dear mother, he gave it to me,
Why should I lend it, dear mother, to thee ? "
thus showing the astuteness of the London youth.
After his departure Mrs. Bardell warbles forth "My Next," a song which,
clearly expresses her intention to enter a second time into the marriage state,,
and her speculations as to what manner of man her future will be. That
she has already one in her eye is at once apparent from the barcarole or
baker-roll of the baker outside, who first serenades her with —
" Morning breaks, I must awake her,
Wake her, tra la la la i
In the yeast the sun's a baker,
Ba-ker, tra la la la !
You are crumby and full weighted,
Hear your baker-laureate troll,
Tra la la !
Would you crusty be if mated,
Listen to my baker-roll,
Baker-roll, baker-roll ! "
The refrain is then taken up by the object of his admiration as follows —
MRS. B. (at window]. So the baker aerated.
Sings his morning baker-roll,
BOTH. Tra la la !
MARCH i, 1889,]
OUR PLAY-BOX.
BAKER. Did French bred man come a-woomg
He would say,y^ suis a toi !
MRS. B But the baker parley-wooing,
Swears he loves me more meal Jots.
BOTH. Mealfois, Tra la la
BAKER. Did a sportsman come a-courting,
He would talk of heart and roe.
Tra la la!
MRS. B. But the baker who's now sporting
Calls his love ^ his gentle dough "
BOTH. Tra la la !
BAKER (as before]. Did a gardener come this way, in
Flowery language he would plead,
Tra la la!
MRS. B But my Baker's simply sayin',
" You're the * flower ' that I need ' !
Tra a la !
BAKER. Arab calls his loved one merely
" Milk-white steed ! " arid strokes her head.
Tra la la !
"MRS. B. Ah ! a Baker's wife should, clearly,
Nothing be but thorough-bred.
Tra la la !
'BOTH. Thus the Baker doth awake her, &c.
Tra la la ! Tra la la !
and finishes with a ridiculously funny minuet and some very droll
business with the long rolls which the baker carries. Pressing his
suit, he asks the widow to be his, saying that he has provided the
licence, to all of which he only gets the tuneful reply, "Not to-day,
Baker. Away ! away I" and^eventually goes off with the determination to
return in half an hour to learn his fate. Then enters Mr. Pickwick, who
declaims in song on]the packing of his portmanteau, and has, after some
dialogue with Mrs. Bardell, two capital songs, the one a "Romance," "The
Boy and the Borough," and the
-other a ditty, "The Happy Valley,"
full of quaint rhymes and merry
conceits, and he then descants on
the joys of " The Bachelor." Fol-
lowing this comes the ^momentous
interview with Mrs. Bardell, which
is capitally worked up, and in the
course of which " The Bardell
Bolero" is sung and danced, and W^\jKJ^^^L
finally Mrs. Bardell sinks into the
astonished Mr. Pickwick's arms. Tommy returns and attacks Mr.
Pickwick; the Baker honourably returns for his answer, and, taking in
the situation at a glance, goes off, merrily singing his " Baker-roll," to wed
another more faithful lady, who is willing to accept him, and the curtain
falls on Mr. Pickwick, happy in the assumption that he is still free, whilst
the wedding bells chime out for the marriage of the baker.
i66
THE THEATRE.
[MARCH i, 1889*
Well as Mr. Burnand has done his work and afforded a most amusing
sketch, but little less praise must be awarded to Mr. Solomon for the
music he has composed; it is throughout bright and lively, and so
?' catchy" that many of the airs — the "Baker-roll" in particular — were
being hummed by the audience as they left the house. But this is not all ;
by the quaintness of some of the orchestration the composer has accen-
tuated the comic situations and humorous lines.
The characters were excellently represented. Miss Lottie Venne looked
fascinating enough to bewitch a score*1 of elderly widowers^or amorous
bakers, and played and sang with such vivacity and sprightliness as to carry
the piece along perfectly. Nor was Mr. Rutland Barrington one whit
behind her in his humorous and easy method of courtship,^and has never
been seen to greater advantage. Mr. Arthur Cecil was a thorough
realisation of our ideal Pickwick, both in dress and ^manner, though on.
the first performance he was not quite at home in his |words, and Master
Arthur Knight was a sturdy Tommy, and sang tunefully [and acted with
spirit. " Pickwick " was a complete success, and when its
run comes to an end we may hope that Mr. Burnand will
turn his talent for comic writing to further account by
introducing us to some of the doings of Messrs. Tupman,
Snodgrass, and Winkle, whom at present hejhas not brought
" any further than the landing ; " for he says [in a footnote
that " it is not improbable, that we may see something 'of
them on a future musical occasion."
The " cantata " was preceded by Brandon Thomas's charmingly writtea
MARCH
889.]
OUR PLAY-BOX.
167
" Highland Legacy," in which the author again scored a success as the
pseudo "Tammy Tamson," and Miss Jessy Lee, the daughter of a well-
known journalist and dramatic author, made a most favourable debut in
London as Clara, and showed herself possessed of a very charm ing presence,.
sweet voice, and agreeable style of acting.
"GOO$ OLD TIMES." ,
New Drama, in four acts, written by HALL CAINE and WILSON BARRETT.
First produced at the Princess's Theatre, Tuesday evening, February 12, 1889.
.ii'lin l.;m.t:ley, J.P.
Mary Langley ..
< rosby Grainger
Parson Langley . .
Amos Barton
Inspector Braithwai
NatLatrigg.. ..
Coldbath Joe . .
Spot
Rev. W. Moore . .
Nick Baker
. Mr. WILSON BARRETT.
. Miss EASTLAKE.
. Mr. LEWIS WALLER.
. Mr. S. M. CARSON.
. Mr. AUSTIN MELFORD.
e Mr. CHARLES HUDSON.
Mr. H. HODGES.
Mr. GEORGE BARRETT.
Mr. ROBERT PATEMAN.
Mr. H. COOPER-CLIFFE.
Mr. T. NYE.
Cupid
The Oysternian .
Sandy
Colonel Wayne .
Mr. Horrocks
Mr. Chard .. .
Mr. Jenkins
Sergt. Lloyd
Lucy
Biddy
Martha Troutbecl
Sally .. .. ;
c .
Mr. ST.UTo|;l> SMITH.
Mr. .1. A. \VKLCII.
Mr. HARTLEY.
Mr. T. W. PKi;ry\ AI..
Mr. F. PlTSTON.
Mr. \V.\K11KN.
Mr. A. IY Fm.i,.
. Mr. ROYDON ERLYNNI
. MISS \\KHSTKK.
. Miss L. BELMORK.
. Miss A. -COOK K.
. Miss A. CAMIUKK.
The Fiddler.. ..
Mr. W. A. ELLIOTT.
Though scarcely possessing the sustained interest which so distinguished
" Ben-my-Chree," the same collaborators in " Good Old Times " have
given us some stirring scenes, which occur in a plot that is not always as
clear as it might be ; the dialogue
at times is very good, but the whole
requires condensing. There are
also two or three rather improbable
occurrences : th<r first, that a man
holding the hero's position should
marry a woman without making any
inquiry as to her antecedents ; the
second, that after the lapse of only
three years he, when brought into
contact with her, should not even
faintly recogn^e her ; and the third,
that bushranger.-, in endeavouring
to escape should make for the very
point where they are most likely to
be caught — the police-station. But
with all this, "G.-i.-d Old Times"
is exactly suited to display the
manly heroic character that Mr.
Wilson Barrett can so well sustain,
and the long-suffering tenderwoman
in impersonating which Miss Eastlake has become so great a favourite.
The numerous ureaths and floral offerings presented at the close of the
performance testified that they^had again been most successful in their
efforts to harrow the feelings of their audience. We are given to under-
stand that John Langley, J.P. and Sheriff of Cumberland, has married Mary
THE THEATRE.
[MARCH I, 1889.
Langley without knowing anything of her past life. That past contains
one terrible crime, imputed, though wrongfully, to her, but she has taken
another name and so has escaped detection. Her father was murdered,
and she was looked upon as at least an accessory, the criminals really being
Amos Barton and Crosby Grainger, a former lover of hers whom she had
discarded when she discovered he was already married to Lucy Barton.
She has taken Amos into her service, presumably forced to do so by his
knowledge of her secret. Grainger, fleeing from justice, comes to her home
in Cumberland, and at once renews his protestations of love and induces
her to meet him in the grounds, then
when he attempts to seize her she fires
on and wounds him. John Langley,
who has been brought to the spot by
Grainger's wife, overhears much, and
when the shot is fired and the police
arrive, quixotically takes upon himself
the crime. He, Grainger, and Barton
are all sentenced to transportation, and
are sent to Tasmania. Amos has risen
to be a warder, and, from some unex-
plained reason, hating Langley, has him
chained to Grainger ; the men quarrel ;
there is a general mutiny among the
convicts ; Langley saves the governor's
life, and is assigned as a servant to his
own wife, who, tinder the name of Mrs.
Morgan, has followed him to the penal
settlement with a view of having him
allotted to her, as was frequently com-
passed by the friends of convicts in
those days. Grainger and Amos, with
some other desperadoes, have escaped
from Macquarie, the penal settlement,
and have determined to rob Mrs. Mor-
gan's house. Grainger, having learned
from Lucy his wife, who is servant to Mrs. Morgan, that her mistress is no
other than Mary Langiey, after a sharp struggle with Langley carries her off.
Fortunately, through the timely warning given by Spot, an aboriginal,
Langley has been able to send off Coldbath Joe, another convict servant,
to call in the aid of the mounted police. They start in pursuit, but Spot
induces Langley to follow them by river, this being a much shorter route
to Bridgwater, the point for which the robbers are heading. In the sup-
posed voyage in the boat a most beautifully painted panorama of Tasmanian
scenery is unrolled before us, which has but one fault, that there is rather
too much of it. Arrived at Bridgwater, the bushrangers rush with their
captives into the cordon of police that is in waiting for them. Grainger
MARCH i, 1889.] [ OUR PLAY BOX. 169
J?
escapes for a moment only, but is shot down by Amos Barton out of
revenge for the neglect shown to his daughter by his confederate, but
not before Grainger has cleared Mary Langley of any participation in the
crime of her father's murder. The mutiny on the breakwater, Mac-
quarie Harbour, is a well-worked-up and realistic scene, so is the attack
on Mrs. Morgan's house, and also the pursuit of the bushrangers — real
horses being introduced for the use of both the pursuers and pursued. Mr.
Lewis Waller was a grim determined creature, at war with society, as^Crosby
Grainger, and threw an intensity of passion into his mad love for Mary
Langley, and Mr. Austin Melford in the hateful character of Amos Barton
gave a vivid picture of a cold calculating villain. Mr. George Barrett as
Coldbath Joe, a convict whose better nature has been roused by the kind-
ness of Mrs. Langley, has some quaint sayings redolent of " the Dials," but
a little too modern for the era of the play. He was as usual very amusing,
and had a merry, bright little sweetheart in Miss L. Belmore as Biddy, an
Irish " colleen." Mr. Robert Pateman made a distinct hit -as Spot the
aboriginal, an almost impossible character, displaying infinitely more intelli-
gence than his tribe are usually given credit for. Another very clever im-
personation was that of Mr. W. A. Elliott as The Fiddler, a cockney
convict, and Miss Webster was unaffectedly tender and womanly as
Lucy. The cast was generally good, and the piece was favourably re-
ceived.
"THE LOVE STORY."
This play of Mr, Pierre Leclercq's was noticed in the July number of
THE THEATRE of last year, it having been produced at a Strand matinee
on Wednesday, May 23, 1888. There is therefore no occasion to refer
further to the plot than to mention that the heroine, Madeline Borth, has
just received an avowal of affection from Paul Falshawe, a young author
who has secretly loved her for two years, but has hidden his passion on
account of his poverty. She is made genuinely happy until, through the
scheming of Marchcastle, an adventurer, who has learnt that she is an
heiress, she is led to believe that Paul has only proposed to her on account
of her wealth. She at once breaks her engagement with Paul, and accepts
the hand of Marchcastle, who had offered himself when she thought she was
poor, though he knew that she had inherited her uncle's fortune. The
marriage is hurried on, and Madeline and Marchastle start immediately after
the ceremony for North Wales. At Plas Dyfi there is an accident to the
train, and bride and bridegroom come to the house at which Paul is staying.
There Marchcastle, pursued by detectives for his defalcations in the bank
of which he has been manager, blows out his brains ; but Madeline,
by the accidental discharge of a pistol, is led to believe that she has killed
her husband, and falls in a dead swcon. Paul, entering at the time, gives
himself up to the police as having fired the shot. By an ingenious reason-
ing it is proved that Marchcastle committed suicide, and the lovers are
i ?o THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
reunited. Some exception has been taken to the fact that Madeline so
readily believes the charge brought against her lover, but it should be borne
in mind that his avowal appears so sudden to her after two years of apparent
coldness, that she may readily imagine it must have been some very strong
motive that brought about the offer; and her idol being shattered, to reward
the man who had appeared to love her for herself alone and to punish the
one who seemingly was so contemptible, in a moment of pique she accepted
Marchcastle; had she taken a half-hour to think, her course would
probably have been different, and she would have weighed the value of
the evidence against her lover. As on the first occasion, Mr. Charles
Charrington and Miss Janet Achurch appeared as Charles Marchcastle and
Madeline Borth : the former played incisively ; the latter was excellent in
many respects, but a little uneven at times in her acting. Mr. Lawrence
Cautley was a little too melodramatic as Paul Falshawe. Mr. Fred
Thorne was fairly good as William Trett, and Miss Dolores Drum-
mond was a kindly Mrs. Falshawe. Mr. VV. Lugg was excellent as
Sergeant Jones. The closing of the play might with advantage be
embodied in one scene in the last act, and the Welsh dialogue of the
voluble landlady, Mrs. Jones, should be materially curtailed, though per-
haps these blemishes would not be so apparent to the provincial audiences
to which Mr. Charrington purposes presenting the piece. " The Love
Story" was very favourably received, and the principals were honoured
with calls after each act. The matinees were under the able business
management of Mr. Harrington Baily, who took care that the press at
least should not be in want of programmes. CECIL HOWARD.
©ur ©mnibus^Boy.
" The Silver Falls " at the Adelphi is a pronounced success. Mr.
W. L Abingdon has replaced Mr. Royce Carleton as Dick Redmayne, and
plays with much subtlety and vigour. At the neighbouring little house, the
Vaudeville, " That Doctor Cupid," with Mr. Thomas Thorne as the elderly
and mischievous God of Love, is being played to excellent audiences.
Mr. Charles Wyndham did wisely in reviving " Still Waters Run Deep ; " the
booking at the Criterion is equal to if not surpassing anything yet known at
this theatre. " Tares " nightly fills the Opera Comique, and there appears
no diminution in the attraction of" Little Lord Fauntleroy " at the afternoon
performances. "The Armada" has started on its provincial tour, com-
mencing at the Grand Theatre, Islington. " Babes in the Wood " at
Drury Lane is still filling the national theatre, and appears likely to do so as
long as Mr. Augustus Harris desires to keep it in the bill.
MARCH i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 171
At the Globe Theatre "The School for Scandal" has been revived
pending the return of Mr. Richard Mansfield and the production of
" Richard III.," which will be staged in the most complete and elaborate
manner. The principal feature worthy of notice in Goldsmith's comedy is
the decided advancement of Miss Kate Vaughan as Lady Teazle, which is
now an excellent performance. Mr. Lionel Brough resumes his racy im-
personation of the Jew Moses, Mr. William Herbert is a gay and manly
Charles Surface, Mr, T. L Sullivan's Joseph Surface is a careful and
appreciated study. Mr. J. Burrows as Rowley is very good indeed.
On February 1 1 " Nadgy " reached its i ooth performance at the Avenue,
and went splendidly, Mr. Arthur Roberts, Mdlle. Vanoni, Mr. E. I). Ward
(who now plays the Margrave), and Miss Annie Halford having introduced
some new songs, and the first two some exceptionally clever fresh business.
The occasion was celebrated by the presentation to everyone in the house
of a souvenir, a descriptive booklet excellently got up by Raphael Tuck
and Son, illustrated by A. Frederics and A. J. Finberg, words by Alfred
Murray.
"The Merry Wives of Windsor" proved such an attraction at the morn-
ing performances at the Haymarket that on Saturday, February 9, it was
placed in the evening bill. Mr. Beerbohm Tree's Falstaff has ripened into
a thoroughly genial and effective representation, and he is very ably-
supported by a well-selected cast in the other characters. The piece is
splendidly mounted.
" Macbeth " is drawing overflowing houses at the Lyceum. For, it is
said, the first time in Mr. Irving's London career, he was compelled to
absent himself from the theatre on Thursday, January 17, as he was
suffering from loss of voice. Mr. Hermann Vezin was fortunately at liberty
to take the part of Macbeth, and was eminently satisfactory. Mr. Irving
resumed the character on January 26. Miss Ellen Terry has added many
artistic touches to her embodiment of Lady Macbeth.
Mr. Edwyn Shrympton, who gave a dramatic and musical recital at
the St. George's Hall on Tuesday evening, January 22, under rather
adverse circumstances, for his audience was discourteous and noisy,
proved himself a good elocutionist in his recitals of Adelaide A. Procter's
" A Legend of Provence," " The Road to Heaven " (G. R. Sims), and
" The Spanish Mother " (Sir F. Hastings Doyle) ; in all of these he exhibited
intelligence and feeling. A one-act play, "So Runs the World Away,"
was tried for the first time, and its author, Mr. G. Phillipson, who does not
claim, for a wonder, that his piece is either " new or original," may be
172 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
•congratulated on very neat construction and good dialogue. A young fellow,
who has made a little fortune in the colonies, returns to England to find his
sister engaged to a man whom he at first has reason to believe had
deserted a girl with whom he, the brother, had fallen in love. The lover,
however, proves that he was as much sinned against as sinning, and so
his misdoings of the past are forgiven. Mr. Shrympton was rather
amateurish as the brother, Dick Jordan, but was earnest and pathetic.
Miss E. Gregory played naturally as the sister.
There will be given at the Wandsworth Town Hall at eight o'clock on
Friday, March i, " Tableaux Vivants " in aid of the funds of the Art
•Classes, Science and Art Department, of Wandsworth and Barnes The
tableaux will be the same as those performed at Kingston-on-Thames
before H.R.H. the Duchess of Teck, and which were so highly spoken of.
They are arranged by Mr. Walter P. Warren ; the music is under the
direction of Mr. Henry Hudson.
Mr. John Jourdain's romantic drama, " The Rose of Devon, or The
Spanish Armada," produced on February 18 last at the Elephant and
Castle, takes its principal incidents from Charles Kingsley's " Westward
Ho ! " but is cleverly written and is full of stirring scenes, in which the
weal and woe of human existence are happily blended. The piece was
•excellently staged.
The dramatic profession has lost a valuable member in Mr. Tom Mead,
who died on February 17. He was nearly seventy years of age and made
his first appearance in London at the old Victoria Theatre, as Sir Giles
Overreach, on November 8, 1848, and was a leading Shakespearean actor at
Drury Lane under Mr. T. C Smith's management. Ever since Mrs.
Bateman first ruled over the destinies of the Lyceum, Mr. Mead has been
attached to that theatre, and was not only a thoroughly sound actor, but
was universally respected and esteemed.
Mr. Kirwan's recitals at the West Theatre, Royal Albert Hall, judging
from the audiences, appear to have supplied a much-needed want in the
neighbourhood, and are received with much favour. His next, on March 9,
will consist of " The Tempest," arranged for the occasion and with Sir
Arthur Sullivan's music.
At the Steinway Hall Mr. Gilbert Trent arranged an excellent pro-
gramme for his dramatic recital on February 8, and had the valuable
assistance of Miss Jessie Bond and Mr. Eric Lewis in "Cups and Saucers,"
MARCH i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. ,73
of Miss Julia Neilson, who sang most sweetly "Angels ever Bright and
Fair," of Miss Rosina Brandram, who gave " I Arise from Dreams of
Thee," and among others whose names appeared in the programme
were Miss Alexea Leighton, Miss Florence James (who showed great
promise), Miss Annie Hughes, Mr. Henry Neville, Mr. George Grossmith,
&c. Mr. Trent himself recited remarkably well a prologue specially written
for the occasion.
The " Revue d'Art Dramatique " of February 1 5 is a specially good
number. M. Lucien Muhlfeld takes for his subject the Parisian dramatic
critics, and discusses at length the methods of Jules Lemaitre of the
" Debats," and of Hugues Le Roux, critic, novel writer, and dramatist.
In his article "Penurie Theatrale," M. Humbert deGallier laments the dearth
of good new plays, and points out that from the middle of October, 1 888,
at which time most of the Parisian theatres are open, up to January 23,
1889, at the twenty-one houses, out of something like fifty plays that were
represented, twenty-nine were new, and twenty-three were revivals, whilst
in 1874-75 the proportion was twenty-two new to eight revivals, and in
1877-78 thirty-one new to fourteen revivals. The writer accounts for this,
by the fact that younger authors work too hurriedly, and that managers
find it a safer card to play to reproduce the works of well-known and
successful playwrights, trusting often that the name of the author will
draw, aided by the good acting of the company, to whom the management
has now to pay such largely increased salaries. The Theatre Libre had
even injured young writers, for hitherto it has only produced a bad class
of play, which has thrown discredit on the whole body. M. M. J. Gr£in,
the London correspondent and critic, contributes a clever notice of " Tares,"
now playing at the Opera Comique, and bestows a well-deserved eulogium,
on Miss Gertrude Kingston. There is much readable matter in the number..
There was produced at the Prince of Wales's on Monday afternoon,
January 2 1, 1889, a very amusing adaptation of M. Medina's" La Garconniere."
Mr. Fred Homer, who has already done some good work, has entitled his
latest attempt ' * Bachelor's Quarters," and in the three acts most amusingly
sets before us the troubles that are brought upon a young artist who lends
his studio keys to three of his friends at different times on the same day. These
gay Lotharios have made assignations with three fair ladies, the wrong
couples meet, are discovered by their respective wives, and the poor artist
is near on losing his own ladylove through being pounced upon by his
prospective and irate mother-in-law. As " Bachelor's Quarters " was only
played for copyright purposes, the performance was an excellent one, and
greater attention than is usual on such occasions was paid to all the stage
details. For future reference the original cast is given, as the piece will
almost certainly be seen again' in an evening bill : — Gregory Bell, Mr. Harry
i74 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
Grattan ; Frederick Leighton-Buzzard, Mr. Lawrence Cautley ; Henry
Vaughan, Mr. Fred Mervin ; Percy Gwynne, Mr. Matthew Brodie ;
John Hollis, Mr. F. Keighley; Mrs. Jane Bell, Miss Sallie Turner; Milly
Bell, Miss Lillian Carew ; Amy Vaughan, Miss Gabrielle Goldney ; Violet
Gwynne, Miss Nellie Lingard ; Zeffie Williams, Miss L. Millward ; Anita
Jones, Miss Nita Wynne.
Miss Gertrude Kingston's very rapid-advance in her profession she attributes
to the excellent training she received at the hands of Miss Sarah Thorne, to
whom Miss Kingston acknowledges herself " indebted for much sound and
able advice and tuition both whilst at Margate and subsequently." During
Miss Kingston's three months' stay at the seaside theatre she appeared as
Ophelia and Emilia; Sophia in "The Road to Ruin," Zoe in "The
Octoroon," Eliza in " After Dark," and Kate Hardcastle in " She Stoops to
Conquer," besides playing various domestic heroines in melodrama. Mr.
Beerbohm Tree, having formed a favourable opinion of her acting, engaged
Miss Kingston to join his company, and the young actress accordingly
made her first appearance in London at the Haymarket as Mrs. Harkaway
in " Partners," and scored a success. After the short season at the Novelty
under Mr. George Giddens's management, where she played Mrs. Fred
Fizzleton in "Nita's First," and Mrs. George Boulter in "Bonny Boy,"
Miss Kingston migrated to the Olympic, and appeared as Enid Anstruther
in " Mr. Barnes of New York," and later produced Jerome K. Jerome's
play, " Woodbarrow Farm," when, as Clara Dexter, the press generally
spoke highly of the performance. An equal meed of praise was awarded
to her conception of Lady Priscilla Goshawke in A. C. Calmour's " Widow
Winsome," and her latest embodiment, that of Rachel Dennison in Mrs.
Oscar Beringer's "Tares," is universally commended. Miss Kingston has
already taken high rank as an actress, and, with further experience and the
careful study which she devotes to the profession she has chosen, promises
to attain the very foremost position.
1 Mr. Charles E. Brookfield made his first appearance on the stage in
June, 1879, and played Gimlet in "Still Waters Run Deep," and in
Robertson's comedies has appeared as Krux, Sergeant Jones, Prince
Perowski, John Chodd, jun., and Sam Gerridge ; has also played Narcisse
in "Odette," and Triplet, Sir Charles Pomander, and Colley Gibber in
" Masks and Faces." Mr. Brook field's Shakespearean characters have
included the Doge, the Prince of Morocco, and Antonio in " The
Merchant of Venice," Montano in "Othello," Biondello in "The Taming
of the Shrew," and that of "Slender," in which part he is now appearing
nightly in "The Merry Wives of Windsor" at the Haymarket ; one of his
most conspicuous successes at this theatre having been the character of
Louis XI. in " The Ballad Monger." Mr. Brookfield was much lauded
for his Voltaire in " The Pompadour." He has also appeared as Fouche" in
MARCH i, 1888.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 175
"Plot and Passion," Old Hardcastle and Tony Lumpkin in "She Stoops
to Conquer," Tinsel in "The Hunchback," and in his own monologue,
" Nearly Seven." Mr. Brookfield is but a young man, and has every
reason to look forward to a prosperous and rising stage career.
The following notes on the " Stage in Russia " have been received from a
valued correspondent in that country, whose long residence in the dominions
of the White Czar has given the English that he writes (though a native
of Great Britain) a quaint originality that will be thought by many to
enhance the interest of his remarks on Russian amusements : — " A new
opera, called ' The Merchant Kalaschnikoff,' in which the celebrated
Russian artists M. Jacoffleff, Mdlle. Mravena, M. Stravensky, and M.
Sarebykoff took part, has lately been performed on the Petersburg stage,
and suspended by order of the Government after the third representation.
This has been a great disappointment to the opera-going public, as this par-
ticular opera was a great favourite, representing as it did a national topic
and an incident that occurred in the history of Russia during the reign
of Ivan the Terrible. As the subject and the music have had something
to do with the prohibition of this opera, I will venture to give a slight
account of the story on which the libretto is founded. It runs as follows :
During the reign of Ivan the Terrible, a certain merchant in Moscow
was possessed of a very pretty wife, who to her credit was faithful to her
husband. Unfortunately for her, the husbands in Moscow in those days
had the same weakness for falling in love with other people's wives as they
now have in that most holy city of churches and church-going bipeds, and,
as ill-luck would have it, a handsome Opritchnik, or Gentleman of the
Body-guard, was smitten with this national complaint. The first indica-
tion of the malady he evinced by kissing a merchant's pretty wife in the
public thoroughfare. This ungentle manly act, contrary to all the rules
and regulations of those Holy Church-going Muscovites, raised even the
husband's wrath. It must be remembered that Russian husbands are, as
a rule, not very particular about their own peccadilloes or those of their
wives either. The merchant swore to be revenged on the Czar's favourite
Opritchnik. This, however, was a very dangerous undertaking, as the
* Opritchniks ' had received full powers from the terrible Czar to do what-
ever they liked without being punished. This Opritchnik, whose name
was Kirjeebeevitch, was a man of giant strength and a particular favourite
of the mad and bloodthirsty Czar. The merchant, hearing that his wife
had been insulted by this ' Son of Belial,' called him out to fight a duel
(na-koolakach) with fists, or what we should call in England a boxing match.
John the Terrible, who, by-the-by, was only mad 'north-north-west,' was
exceedingly fond of boxing matches, and ordered the two combatants to
settle their dispute with their fists before him in the Grand Square in
Moscow. Notwithstanding the injunction of the Czar that the com-
•batants should not fight 'to the death,' the merchant ^id his utmost to
176 2 HE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
kill the giant 'Opritchnik.' To his credit he was successful, and managed
to lay him dead at his feet by a well-directed blow, probably behind the
ear. The savage tyrant was furious at the loss of his favourite 'life
guardsman,' and ordered Kalaschnikoff to be executed for this offence.
This unjust sentence was carried out, and the above are the bare facts on
which this interesting opera is founded. The Muscovites are still very
fond of boxing. In former times it was the custom of the villagers and
townsmen to meet every holiday outside of the town and amuse (?) them-
selves with this diverting sport. They use their fists differently to
us, and hit behind the ear, often with fatal results. In the opera
the execution is not represented on the stage. It is supposed to take
place behind the scenes, and whilst this event is taking place the priests
and the people on the stage sing a ' Panacheeda ' or mass for the
repose of the soul of the unfortunate merchant. As this mass is very
similar to that in use in the Greek Church, this fact alone is sufficient
reason for the opera being forbidden. The exposition of the injustice and
despotism of the Czar Ivan (John) — who, by-the-by, was a great favourite
with the common people because he cut off the heads of the nobles and
not of the moujiks, which explains his popularity — is not quite the proper
thing for the subjects of an autocratic form of government to witness. It is
very much to be regretted that this opera has been prohibited, as great
attention had been paid to rendering the scenery, costumes, and stage
effects as correct and striking as possible. The Imperial Theatres take
great pains on this head, and certainly deserve praise. The choir singing,
as is usually the case in most Russian operas, plays a predominant part.
Of solo singing there is very little to speak of, and this fact alone would
make it unsuccessful abroad. It is the general opinion that this is one of
the best operas Rubinstein has composed, and will be as popular as ' The
Demon/ another work by this talented composer.
" The Russian Government have of late been acting very liberally towards,
the maintenance of the stage in Russia. About two million roubles have
been granted towards the reconstruction of the large theatre, which will be
turned into a conservatoire for the study of music. About seven million,
roubles have also been laid aside for the erection of a new theatre in the
Field of Mars, a large square near the English Embassy. The plan of this
immense theatre has been approved of by the Government, and the
building of it will commence this spring. This new theatre will be wholly
devoted to the Russian Ballet and the Russian Opera. The Marien
Theatre will in future be devoted to French and German plays.
" It is no wonder that Russia, though only a young country, has produced
such a number of eminent composers, and has such a splendid national
opera, when the Government fosters and encourages the arts on such an
i^^
MR. CHARLES BROOKFIELD.
" Sweet Anne Page ! '
MERRY \\"IVF,S OF
KROM A l'Holo<;kAril Sl>F.CIAl,lV iAKf^ FOR <rTHF. THEATER "
BY VRKNON KAYF,> < ; J.<. irrKSTF.R ROAD, LONDONi
MARCH i, 1889.] OUR OMM BUS-BOX. 177
•imperial scale. It would indeed be well if our Government copied
Russia in this respect and founded schools for actors as well as
colleges of music. Russia has not only done this long ago, but
has established a fund for pensioning actors who have served in the
Government theatres. Unfortunately for us, England has been so long
under the influence of the Puritans and the Hanoverians that the artistic and
musical spirit of the nation has been stunted. The bigotry and narrow-
mindedness of the Puritans, and the want of refinement of the Hanoverian
Sovereigns, who did not care for " bainting and boetry," &c., have done the
English stage and the art of England incalculable mischief. These arts here
are gradually recovering from the blight they have laboured under, so may
you, but very slowly. England, who was ahead of all the European nations
in music and theatrical representations in the Elizabethan period, cannot be
said to be at the top of the tree at the present moment.
" In the Alexander Theatre the following pieces are now being given : —
The ' Ruler Sophia,' an historical drama representing an incident that
occurred in the history of Russia prior to the reign of Peter the Great. The
plot of this play is very poor, but the scenery and the old Russian Bojar
costumes are worth going a long way to see on account of their barbaric
and imposing magnificence. Gogol's remarkable comedy, the ' Revisor,'
has been given. As usual, the house was packed full, and not a single
ticket was to be had. This comedy, perhaps, is one of the finest of its
kind that was ever written, and made the writer of it so many enemies that
the Emperor Nicholas had to take Gogol under his special protection. The
corruption and the abuses prevalent in the Russian bureaucracy are satirised
in it in the most unmerciful manner possible. It is a work of genius
equal to anything Moliere ever wrote, and only inferior to Shakespeare.
But Gogol's merits will speak for themselves, and those who have studied
bis works thoroughly reckon him the first writer Russia has produced.
"The Mechail Theatre has principally been taken up with French and
German operettas and comedies ; for instance, such pieces as ' Le
Depute de Bobignac,' * Le Code des Femmes,' ' La Securite des Families,'
'Veuve Darosel,' 'The Mikado,' and the play 'Le Beau Pere.' The
greatest attraction of this theatre, not counting 'The Mikado,' has
been a new German comedy called ' 500,000 Devils.' This comedy has
been a great success and is very amusing. It is principally about the ' Old
Gentleman,' who is supposed to have a nephew called Pipifose, and a
mother 130,000 years old. Part -of the story takes place on earth, whilst
the other represents the infernal regions. The scenery and the costumes
in this play are continually changing, and it is very amusing, notwithstand-
ing it treats about such peculiar topics. This is one of the principal draw-
backs to the play, and makes it very undesirable for young people to see.
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. O
178 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
"The Russian National Opera is commencing to flourish to such an
extent that, as I have said, there is to be a new opera house on the
Champ de Mars. This will be an immense building, as the theatres
here are built on a very grand scale, thanks to the Government, which is
very liberal in its support of the arts. At the present moment the Russians
have a craze for everything that is Russian and national. It does not
matter however bad a thing may be ; so long as it is ' Roosky,' it goes
down. This is the reaction from the intense appreciation that was felt
for everything that was foreign during the late Emperor's reign. This
peculiar change in the taste of the people has also something to do with
the falling off of the Italian Opera and other amusements of foreign impor-
tation. Even the circus is not so well attended as formerly. The Russian
theatres and Russian places of amusement are, on the other hand, springing
up like mushrooms ; but perhaps there is more quantity than quality on the
whole. Of course this does not refer to the Imperial Theatres, which in
many respects could not easily be surpassed anywhere in Europe.
" Some of the most interesting forms of amusement now to be seen in
Petersburg are the private theatricals, which are played by amateurs
in the palaces of the aristocracy or the clubs of the merchants, which are
hired for the occasion. A few days ago I had the pleasure of witnessing
one of these entertainments, played by some of the leading members of
the Russian aristocracy. This particular play was a comedy called ' The
Barber of Seville,' by Bon Marche. I have never in my life seen
private theatricals put on the stage in such an expensive manner. The
costumes were the very best that money could purchase, and no expense
had been spared in rendering the accessories as perfect as possible. Prince
Galitzin, who played the part of Don Alma Viva, a Spanish cavalier of the
1 6th century, was dressed in a costume mainly consisting of laces, light
blue plush velvet, and decorated all over with large diamond brooches or
clasps estimated as worth many thousands of pounds. Madame Harting, nee
Countess Steinbock, belonging to one of the most illustrious families in the
north of Europe, was dressed in the ordinary Spanish costume ; but in the
last scene she appeared wearing a valuable necklace, composed of large
emeralds and pearls of immense value. Madame Harting, who is perhaps one
of the prettiest women in Petersburg, seemed a born artist ; in fact she is, I hear,
highly gifted. Prince Barjatinsky, who acted the part of a Jesuit, seemed to
grasp his part thoroughly, and portrayed an avaricious, cunning, and intriguing
man to the life. The other actors were also very good — in fact, so much
real talent was shown on this occasion that one involuntarily asked
oneself why some of these amateurs did not go on the stage. Perhaps the
reason is, because they prefer to play a part on the world's real stage, and
not in the narrow confines of a theatre. The rooms where this entertain-
ment took place were lighted up by the electric light and decorated with
valuable pictures of the old masters and historical portraits, the generals of
MARCH i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 179
£p
Charles XI. and Charles XII., the ancestors of our hostess, Madame
Harting. The drop scene, or the curtain, was made out of old Gobelin
tapestry, on which was worked the story of the siege of Troy in i4th cen-
tury costume. This entertainment, which was given for a charitable
purpose, was attended by, amongst others, the Grand Duke Vladimir, the
Grand Duchess Maria Paulovna, the Grand Duke Constantine, and the
Grand Duchess Elizabeth, and many other eminent personages. One of
the Grand Dukes contributed one thousand roubles towards the proceeds
of 'the entertainment) Prince Troobatskoi, the son of the Minister of the
Court, also took part in the entertainment, besides several officers of the
Guards.
"The farewell concert of the American Nightingale Nikita took place in
one of the principal public buildings. The success of the young singer
was thorough as far as profit was concerned, and every seat was occupied.
Whilst acknowledging her great talent and lovely voice, some of the critics
here profess to believe that Nikita will never become a great artist in the
true sense of the word ; but the future will show whether they are mistaken
or not.
" Miss Anna Eva Faye, from Boston, has lately given a series ot
spiritualistic seances here in Petersburg, which were very successful.
" A large choir of Russian Gypsies has been hired to sing at the Trocadero
in the Paris Exhibition. The impresarios are two celebrated French
artists, who have hired the theatre for the occasion. The expense of
hiring these wild semi-barbaric singers will amount to 75,000 francs for
only five weeks."
Mr. Percy F. Marshall produced at the Ladbroke Hall, on Friday,
January 25, 1889, a "domestic incident," in one act, entitled "Fleeting
Clouds," which proved to contain much that was poetical both in its
dialogue and sentiment. A young clergyman falls in love with the daughter
of his sexton, and they are looking forward to be married, when the village
schoolmistress, who has marked down the curate for herself, induces the
girl's father to withdraw his consent. This she does through the knowledge
she possesses of his having been imprisoned, though wrongfully — a fact that
he has hidden from the world for years. The opportune confession of the
schoolmistress's husband, whose deathbed the curate attends, clears the
sexton's character and confounds the schoolmistress. The curate was
most excellently played by Mr. Marshall, whose clear and impressive
enunciation is specially deserving of praise. The character of the school-
mistress could not have been entrusted to a safer actress than to Miss
i8o
THE THEATRE.
[MARCH i, 1889^.
Alexes Leighton, who brought out every phase in the character of the-
passionately loving and scheming woman.
" Paul Jones," which has achieved a complete success at the Prince of
Wales's, has been preceded, since January 28, 1889, by a one-act operetta
written by Arthur Law, music by Alfred C. Caldicott. It is entitled
" John Smith," and merrily recounts how a young fellow, after being flouted
by his future mother-in-law on account of his poverty, wins his lady-love on
coming into a snug little sum of money. Miss Kate Cutler took first
honours as the heroine, and Mr. Albert James was very good as a .cheery
milkman. Mr. Templer Saxe, Mr. Hendon, Miss Jeanie Mills, and Miss
Delatour were also included in the cast.
The Guards Burlesque Company chose for their piece de resistance this
year a "burlesque drama," by Mr. E. C. Nugent (late Grenadier Guards),
entitled ''The Real Truth About I vanhoe, or Scott
Scotched." First played on February i, 1889, it
went capitally, showing the care that had been
bestowed on the rehearsals. With plenty of puns,
neat lyrics, and some excellent dances, " Ivanhoe "'
kept the audience laughing from start to finish.
Needless to say that any amount of license has been-
taken with Sir Walter Scott's novel, but a very
funny and amusing production has been the result.
Miss Kate Vaughan was a beautiful Rebecca, most
exquisitely dressed, and bewitched everyone by her
graceful dancing and her naive manner. (Later
when, in consequence of her engagement at the
Globe, Miss Vaughan was compelled to relinquish
the part, a most excellent substitute was found in
Miss Madeleine Shirley.) Lieut. B. J. Livett looked
handsome and played well as Ivanhoe. Robin
Hood was the drollest of outlaws as represented by
sir Brian de Bois Gilbert, Lieut. George Nugent, whose agility in dancing and
Capt. F. c. Ricardo. natural sense of humour convulsed the audience.
Lieut. H. R. Compton Roberts, made up after the style of the modern
Lady Macbeth, was a very amusing Rowena, and Miss Jenny M'Nulty
was a fascinating Maid Marian. Colonel Ricardo played Cedric;
Captain F. C. Ricardo, Sir Brian de Bois Gilbert ; Lieut. Francis
Sandford, Isaac ; and Lieut s. Sir Herbert Miller and Sir Augustus
Webster, Wamba and Captain Little-John. A host of pretty young ladies
figured as Saracen captives. The scenery was excellent, and the music, by
Mr. Edward Solomon, so quaint, from the manner in which he had adapted
such favourites as " The Lost Chord " and " The Garden of Sleep," as to
MARCH i, 1889.]
OUR OMNIBUS-BOX.
181
still further establish his reputation as a musician, and as one possessing a
keen sense of humour. The burlesque was preceded by Sidney Grundy's
Rowena.
Lt. H. R. H. R. Compton Roberts.
Lieut. -Col. Robin Hood.
Lieut. Geo. Nugent.
play, " In Honour Bound," in which Captain F. C. Ricardo was excellent
as Sir George Carlyon, Q.C., M.P., and Miss St. Maur was an agreeable
Rose Dalrymple.
New plays produced, andjmportant revivals, in London from January 21
to February 18, 1889 : —
(Revivals are marked thus *)
Jan. 21. "Bachelor Quarters," comedy, in three acts, adapted from M.
Eugene Medina's " La Gar^onniere," by Fred Horner. For
copyright purposes only. Matinee. Prince of Wales's.
„ 22. " So Runs the World Away," play, in one act, by G. Phillipson.
St. George's Hall.
„ 22. "The Begum's Diamonds," comedy-drama, in three acts, by
J. P. Hurst. Matinee. Avenue.
„ 24. " April Showers," comedy, in three acts, by Messrs Bellamy and
Romer. Matine'e. Terry's.
„ 25. "Fleeting Clouds," domestic incident, in one act, by Percy F.
Marshall and Charles Dodsworth. Ladbroke Hall.
• „ 28. "John Smith," operetta, in one act, written by Alfred Law.
Music by Alfred J. Caldicott. Prince of Wales's.
,, 28. "A Day's Sport," musical sketch, by Corney Grain. St. George's
Hall.
„ 28. " The Play's the Thing," comedietta, by Edwin Drew. Athe-
naeum, Tottenham Court Road.
,. 28. "The Vicar's Daughter," drama, in one act. by Edwin Drew.
Atheneeum, Tottenham Court Road.
1 82 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
Jan. 28. " Les Demoiselles de St. Cyr," comedy, in four acts, by
Alexandre Dumas pere. Royalty. French Plays.
„ 29. " An Anxious Time," farce, by Ellis Reynolds. St. George's
Hall.
„ 30. " Faute de s'Entendre," comedy, in one act, by Charles
Duveyrier. Royalty. French Plays.
„ 31. "Le Bonhomme Jadis," comedy, in one act, by Henri Murger.
Royalty. French Plays.
„ 31. " Hypnotisee," fantaisie, in one act, by Grenet Dancourt.
Royalty. French Plays.
„ 31. " Le Capitaliste," monologue, by M. C. Cros. Royalty. French
Plays.
„ 31. " Rege'nere," monologue, by M. G. Mazim. Royalty. French
Plays.
„ 3r. " La Valse," duologue. Royalty. French Plays.
„ 31. "Le Cousin Edgard," comedy, in one act, by M. E. Cellier.
Royalty. French Plays.
Feb. i. " Le Depit Amoureux," two-act comedy, by Moliere. Royalty.
French Plays.
„ -i * " The Real Truth about Ivanhoe ; or, Scott Scotched," new and
original burlesque drama, by E. C. Nugent, music by Edward
Solomon. The Guards' Burlesque. Chelsea Barracks.
„ 4. "La Mort du Due d'Enghien," historical drama, by Leon
Hennique. Royalty. French Plays.
„ 4. "Jacques Damour," one-act play, by Leon Hennique. Royalty.
French Plays.
„ 4. " Pickwick," a new one-act " dramatic cantata." Words by
F. C. Burnand. Music by Edward Solomon. Matinee.
Comedy.
„ 4. " The Widow," comedietta, by Walter C. Rhodes. Park Town
Hall, Battersea.
„ 6. "The Balloon," farcical three-act comedy, by J. H. Darnley
and G, Manville Fenn. In evening bill. Strand.
„ 9.* " The Merry Wives of Windsor " was placed in the evening bill
at the Haymarket.
„ 9.* " The School for Scandal." Globe.
„ ii.* "The Broad Arrow." Elephant and Castle.
„ ii.* "Denise," play, in four acts, by JVI. Alexandre Dumas fils.
Royalty. French Plays.
„ ii. " Bitter Cold," drama, in two acts, by Alfred Coates. New Lyric
Hall, Hammersmith.
„ ii. "Shorthand," farce, by A. J. Barclay. New Lyric Hall, Ham-
mersmith.
„ 12. "The Good Old Times," drama, in four acts, by Hall Caine
and Wilson Barrett. Princess's.
„ 12. "A Fool's Paradise," new and original play, in three acts, by
Sydney Grundy. Gaiety.
MARCH i, 1889.]] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 183
Feb. 18.* "The Love Story," four-act play, by Pierre Leclercq. Matine'e.
Vaudeville.
" 1 8. " The Rose of Devon ; or, The Spanish Armada ;" founded by
John Jourdain on " Westward Ho." Elephant and Castle.
" 1 8. "La Doctoresse," comedy, in three acts, by MM. Ferrier and
Bocage. French Plays. Royalty,
In the Provinces from January 16 to February 14, 1889.
Feb. 2. " 'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay," operatic drama, in four acts, by John
Henderson. Royal Theatre, Cardiff.
„ 4.* "Hamlet." The Barry Sullivan Company commenced their
tour at the Opera House, Cork, with a production of Shake-
speare's tragedy.
„ 4. "Princess Diana," emotional drama, in four acts, by Wilton
Jones. T.R. Hull.
„ 5. "The Charlatan," comedy, in three acts, adapted from the
German by Mrs. John Aylmer. Torre Parish Rooms,
Torquay.
„ 8. "A White Lie," new play, in three acts, by Sydney Grundy.
Royal Theatre, Nottingham.
„ 9. " Cousin Charlie," one-act comedietta, by Miss K. M. Latimer.
Devonshire Park Theatre, Eastbourne.
„ n. "The Fancy Ball; or, Nubby the Q.C.," operatic farcical
comedy, in two acts, by Henry Wardroper. Music by William
T. Meadows. Opera House, Ipswich.
„ 14. " Lured to London," new play, in five acts, by W. J. Patmore
and A. B. Moss. Lyceum, Crewe.
„ 14. " Lelamine," serio-comic opera, in three acts, by Edward
Krusard, music by Alfred R. Moulton. Gaiety. Hastings.
In Paris from January 13 to February 15, 1889 : —
Jan. 15. "Le Baiser a Moliere," one act apropos, in verse, by M.
Gustav Zidler. Odeon.
„ 18. "L'Etudiant Pauvre," Millocker's comic opera, in three acts.
French adaptation by MM. Milher and Nume's. Menus-
Plaisirs.
„ 19. " La Marie'e Recalcitrante," farcical comedy, in three acts, by
M. Leon Gandillot. Dejazet.
„ 30. " La Venus d' Aries," three-act comic opera. Libretto by MM.
Ferrier and Liorat, music by M. Varney. Nouveaute's.
Feb. i. " Le Retour d'Ulysse," opera bouffe, in three acts, words by
M. Fabrice Carre, music by M. Raoul Pugno. Bouffes
Parisiens.
1 84 THE THEATRE. [MARCH i, 1889.
Feb. 6.* " Monsieur Alphonse," in three acts, by M. Alexandre Dumas
fils. Gymnase.
„ 12. "Marquise," comedy, in three acts, by M. Victorien Sardou.
Vaudeville.
" 14.* " Fanny Lear," comedy, in five acts, by MM. Henri Meilhac
and Ludovic Halevy. Odeon.
11 15. "La Cigale Madrilene," comic opera, in two acts, libretto by
M. Leon Bernoux, music by M. Joanni Perrouet. Opera
Comique.
THE THEATRE.
N
Famous FalstafFs.
Bv ROBERT W. LOWE.
II ETHER Original Sin has anything to do with it
or not there can be no doubt of the fact that one
of the most popular of Shakespeare's creations is
Sir John Falstaff, whose character is so bad that
it has been aptly summed up for us by Artemus
Ward as that of " a immoral old cuss, take him
how ye may !" But in spite of his popularity with the audience,
it is curious that the character is so seldom attempted by any
of our comedians ; and it is a proof of the wisdom of their
forbearance that the list of players who have made a name in
the part is so short — much shorter, in fact, than the list of those
who have attempted to win distinction in it. If one were to
ask the student of English stage history to name the famous
Falstaifs he would probably mention Quin and Henderson, and
finish by recalling Mark Lemon's excellent delivery of the part.
But there were Falstaifs before Quin, and we may justly
congratulate ourselves that there has been one since Mark
Lemon. Regarding the original representative of the merry
knight there is no certain information. Malone saw in some
pamphlet the statement that John Heminge, one of the editors
of the First Folio, was the original Falstaff; but, as Malone had
forgotten the name of the pamphlet, his information cannot be
tested, and must be taken for what such a vague statement is
worth. The second Falstaif seems to have been John Lowin,
whom Wright, in his " Historia Histrionica," mentions as
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. P
1 86 THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
having played the part before the Civil Wars with " mighty
applause." After the Restoration, William Cartwright was the
first representative of Sir John, and seems to have been
decidedly a failure in the part. It was probably taken from
him by command of Charles the Second, and given to the
King's favourite, John Lacy, for we read that Lacy played it,
and never failed of universal applause.
In the play of " King Henry the Fourth," Hotspur had been
the character belonging to Thomas Betterton, but in his old
age the veteran undertook the part of Falstaff, and played it so
well that the critics allowed that he had hit the humour of the
character better than any that had played it previously. He
was very near the allotted span of "man's life when he first
adventured on this difficult task, and it is a convincing proof of
his genius that he, the greatest of his day in Othello, Hamlet,
Macbeth, and Brutus, was also unapproachable in Falstaff.
Chetwood, the quaint historian of the Irish stage, tells a pleasing
anecdote of Betterton's modesty in connection with this character.
He says that there was in Dublin a master-pavior, Baker by
name, who was a distinguished actor of Falstaff, the Spanish
Friar, Sir Epicure Mammon, and many other characters. This
man was seen by the comedian, Benjamin Johnson, while he was
visiting Ireland, and his acting of Sir John so struck the
English player that, on his return to London, he elaborately
described it to Betterton. This great actor not only approved
of Baker's view of the character, but, declaring that it was
superior to his own, adopted it ever after. Barton Booth, the
legitimate successor of Betterton, made only one attempt at Sir
John Falstaff, and gave it up ; and John Mills, the serious and
steady, was not more successful. John Harper, a fat and jovial
•comedian, owed to his full voice, round face, and jolly laugh a
success which his ability as an actor would never have won him.
He was effectually overshadowed, however, by one of the greatest
of the Falstaffs, James .Quin, who, like our Falstaff of to-day,
made his first essay at the part in " The Merry Wives of Wind-
sor." Quin had every physical qualification for" fat Jack," and
was at once hailed as the only successor of Betterton •. He was
most suceessfuHn the satirical and sarcastic passages, and pro-
bably gave more prominence to the wit than the humour of the
part. He also preserved a certain amount of dignity which
I. i, jss9.) FAMOUS FALSTAFFS. 187
elevated the knight above his tap-room companions. So great
a -favourite was Quin's Sir John that the announcement of its
performance always attracted a full house, and after his retire-
ment he made two appearances in it for the benefit of his friend,
Lacy Ryan, hut the old actor's teeth had begun to go, and his
utterance was no longer perfect, so, when he was asked on a
third occasion to help his old comrade, he wrote : " My dear
Friend, — Thoi;e is no person on earth whom 1 wou'd sooner s<-r\<>
than Ryan — but, by G — d, I will whistle Falstaif for no man."
But he did not allow Ryan to suffer pecuniarily by his refusal,
for Quin was one of the most generous members of a profession
noted for generosity.
After Ouin came Berry, a pot-house Falstaff; Shuter, whose
extravagance we may be sure would mar the part ; Love,
Woodward, and Yates ; but none of these achieved distinction,
and it was not till the Bath Roscius, John Henderson, came
that the part again became famous. Henderson had none of
Quin's natural qualifications, and his make-up for Falstaff
must have been as great a tour dc force us Mr. Beerbohm
Tree's. The great merit of Henderson's Falstaff was its
rollicking humour and levity, and a comparison with, his great
predecessor pronounced Ouin the more weighty, but Henderson
the more pleasant. To his recollection of Henderson, George
Frederick Cooke was modest enough to attribute much of the
success which his own Falstaff achieved, and he no doubt was
Arery much applauded in the part ; but it is difficult to conceive
how the grimness which made his Shylock so grand could
soften into the jollity of the merry knight. Stephen Kemble,
the big, but not the great, Mr. Kemble, enjoyed the unique dis-
tinction of being able to play Falstaff without stuffing ; but here
Stephen's qualifications ended, for he was a very bad actor. \ I is
brother Charles tried the part, and among other representatives
of it at this time were Dowton and Bartley, both fairly success-
ful. Charles Mathews the elder burdened his slim body with the
stuffing of Falstaff, and played the character with considerable
success, but the lack of voice-power was a sad disadvantage to
him. In the time of Macready, John Fawcett was the best
Falstaff on the stage, but the part was not one in which he was
at his best. The American actor, J. H. Hackett, attained a
phenomenal success as Sir John, and our own Phelps played the
1 88 THE THEATRE. [AIRIL i, 1889.
part admirably, although his special excellence as a comedian
lay in the expression of dry, rather than unctuous, humour.
Since the death of Phelps the jovial knight has been practically
banished, until Mr. Beerbohm Tree had the happy thought to
recall him. Of this clever actor's impersonation this is scarcely
the place to speak, but I may be permitted to congratulate him
on a remarkable piece of true comedy acting, and to express the
hope that, as he has given us Falstaif the Vanquished, he will
soon give us Falstaff in all his Glory.
A Dog's Tale !- -The Story of Sting
[N.li. — -Bow-Wow ! Bow- Wow ! The Home fur Lost and Starving Dogs is in a
sony plight at Battersea.]
BY CLEMENT SCOTT.
Reprinted from ' ' Punch . "
H ! Sting ! my old friend, as you sit by the fire, and
gaze so contentedly into the coals,
Can I wonder, when men have no need of their
hearts, why it should not be true that some dog-
gies have souls ?
It is folly to say that you never have thought, when1
you turn from your retrospect into the past,
And, leaving the vision of what might have been, you turn your
dear eyes on your mistress at last !
Ah ! many's the mile in this weary old world we have jogged
on together in sun and in snow.
There was never a pain at my heart but you felt : there is never
a day of distress but you know.
When joy has been with me you've capered at heel, in days
less distressful, 'neath sunnier skies,
But the tears that in solitude wetted my cheeks were mirrored,
dear Sting, in your faithful old eyes !
Come, leave that old rug where you're scorching your nose, and
turn round and round in your home on my lap,
And see if we both can reflect and recall how I found out my
friend, and poor Sting a mishap.
i, 1889.] A DOrss TALE! 189
J?
I was strolling alone round old Lincoln's Inn Fields, when a
piteous cry touched each sensitive heart.
Ah ! it pierces me now, that sharp anguish of pain, " Run over,
* a poor little dog,' by a cart ! "
And the brute drove away with a laugh and a leer. There were
few who could help, but a hundred to see.
So I pushed through the crowd, and your eyes fell on mine, and
with ^oor damaged paw you came limping to me !
To the Hospital straight, with my friend in my arms, who
moaned, and then licked me in pain and despair ;
But at night, when I'd done all my work in the wards, my
patient I found in my Hospital Chair !
Ah ! Sting, you old scamp ! Shall I ever forget, when you took
to your food and were able to play,
That I found your chair empty ! A desolate hearth ! for the
friend I had found — well ! had bolted away.
Then I flung myself down in disconsolate mood — the ingrati-
tude yours, and the folly all mine,
But at last from my reverie woke when I heard at my door
most distinctly — a scratch ! then a whine !
I could scarcely believe my own eyes ! — bless your heart, never
tell me that dogs cannot think — when I saw
_My Sting, who was well — with a tear in his eye — was conduct-
ing a friend who had damaged his paw !
Alone he had hunted his playfellow out ! Alone he had helped
his lame friend up the stair,
And at night, curled together, a paw round each neck, my
Sting with his Snip were asleep in their chair!
And now, my old friend, as we doze by the fire, our wandering
done, we are lonely at last !
For Snip, who once gambolled around us in youth, has travelled
from both of us, into the past !
When I think of the years that have faded away, I look in your
face, and I surely see there
The eyes of a friend who has never proved false, and the sign
of the love that you meant me to share !
The dear ones who loved and caressed us are gone; we gave
them our hearts ; there was nothing to save,
190 THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
But a picture of parting that never is lost, and a rest on the
hill by a desolate grave !
Let us never forget just a shelter to give, and throw to your
faithful companions a crumb,
When the fate that denies us the voice of a friend, can comfort
our hearts with a Love that is Dumb !
Play
oers.
ft 1
EF the vast quantity of people who nightly visit our
theatres, it is always a question for contemplation
which section most thoroughly enjoys the play — the
experienced, or one might almost say "the pro-
fessional playgoer," or the inexperienced visitor to
whom an evening at the theatre is a very rare treat.
The great mass of London playgoers may be divided into
three classes.
The first and perhaps the smallest of the three consists of
those who love the theatre for art's sake, who appreciate the
talents of actors and actresses, knowing the time, thought, and
hard work they must have given to their profession to attain
their present perfection — playgoers who are \vell read in
dramatic literature, who are jealous for the good name of our
theatres, anxious that they shall hold their own against those of
other countries and become homes of learning and culture,
disseminators of all that is noble and praiseworthy. These
frequenters of the playhouses are not altogether strangers to
theatrical society ; they look upon the artists as clever men and
women, not as mysterious creatures who spend their days in
bed, their evenings on the stage, and their nights in revelry —
playg'oers, in short, who, in addition to loving the theatre for
itself, love it also for the sake of the noble men and women who
adorn its boards.
The second class comprises a very different set of people,
an unpleasant section, who have not intellect enough to
appreciate a good play, taste enough to value clever acting,
APRIL i, 1889.] /'A./ YGOERS. I'M
or sufficient discernment to separate the wheat from the
chaff; whose knowledge qf the drama and its exponents is
gathered from one of the many weekly penny papers which, •
while publishing marvellous accounts of the doings, sayings,
and even thoughts of society, think they add an attraction by
the addition of a column of theatrical news more or les*-
apocryphal, and sometimes wantonly cruel in its covert hints
and suggestions of things which exist only in the imagination
of the writer. These items are greedily seized upon by the play-
going vampires, and one overhears them enlightening a
favoured few during the intervals of the performance con-
cerning the private characters of the actors and actresses en-
gaged in the representation of the piece, and announcing, with
decision born of the sternest conviction, " that it is marvellous
how thoroughly ladylike Miss is on the stage, when only a
few years ago she was a ragged child selling matches in.
Leicester Square, and had not beauty," &c., &c., ad nauseam..
And thus it is that tales detrimental to the exponents of stage
art spread and grow — tales which are hurtful to a good and
honourable profession, and which owe their birth to an obscure
hint in a weekly journal, seized, carefully nourished, and widely
propagated by a portion of the theatre-going class who,.
imagining they know all about everybody, in reality know very
little about anything'.
The third section of playgoers is mainly composed of those
people to whom a theatre is an enchanted palace, and the play
an absorbing incident in real life. They do not wish to investi-
gate the moral character of actor or actress ; they only care for
the drama, the joys and sorrows of the hero and heroine, the
schemes of the villain, the geniality of the aged father, and the
pert sayings of the vivacious chambermaid. This class is
composed of people who, perhaps, have no theatre in their own
town, or who only get a glimpse inside a London playhouse
once in two or three years.
Now, is more enjoyment obtained by class one or three of
playgoers ? There is little doubt that, so far as thorough and
unalloyed enjoyment goes, the advantage lies with the latter.
The members of the first class probably witness the represen-
tation of a hundred and fifty or two hundred different pieces in
a year; they are connoisseurs of literary work, and constant
1 92 THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
practice has made them almost hypercritical over stage repre-
sentations ; their trained eye is quick to note any little elabora-
tion or trivial circumstance that demonstrates how much care
has been bestowed on the study of the part ; they see and
appreciate it, but the same cultivated sense which enables
them to fully value the artistic touches, also makes clear to
them minor discrepancies which, unnoticed by the ordinary
spectator, jar terribly on the critic. Some trifling inconsistency
of speech, manner, or dress destroys the beauty of the whole
scene for him, and should the play be long or wearisome, this
small fault looms larger and larger until it is positively painful to
him to witness the performance. Again, some, perhaps, of the
players are known to him personally, and he finds it difficult to
forget his friends and imagine them as the characters they
portray ; the scene becomes unreal and artificial, and though
good acting must ever be a genuine pleasure to the spectator,
the experienced playgoer often looks back with a sigh to the
time when, to his untrained mind, every play was perfect,
every actor all he ought to be.
On the other hand, the inexperienced theatre-goer retires from
the house happy in the conviction that all has been put straight
and that everyone concerned will henceforth lead a blissful
existence. The part that such ethereal creatures take in
ordinary life never enters his head, and the picture of the
heroine driving home in a "growler" to a quiet supper with
Tier family, or the gallant young hero proceeding towards the
suburbs dozing in the corner of an omnibus, is a consummation
without his mental ken. The happiness, the merriment, the
suffering have all been real ; he could appreciate the noble
sentiments and laugh over the comic business ; but his eye,
unaccustomed to stage display, could not pick out any little
faults or small oversights, and consequently he has had the
best of it, for to him it has been perfection, and will form a
subject for conversation for many months to come, while from
the mind of the professional playgoer the picture will fade, only
to be dimly remembered on account of the literary brilliancy of
the play, or the artistic acting of one or more members of the
company.
LITA SMITH.
APRIL i, 1889. A PERSIAN LEGEND. 193
A Persian Legend.
FOR RKCITATIOX.
HERE stands a tower in far off Iran,
Which marks the route to golden Ispahan.
Tis called the Shatir's Column to this day,
And the old legend runneth in this way.
A Princess journeying when the day grew cool,
Where orange trees are waving, and the pool
Reflects blue water-lilies, as the sky's
Reflected azure sparkles in some eyes.
The curtains of the litter where she lay
Were fanned by gentle zephyrs, and the day
Grew rosy 'neath the lazy setting sun,
Which, loth to leave, proclaimed the day was done.
A troop of horsemen through a cloud of sand
Was seen approaching. 'Twas a gallant band
Of Persia's bravest, who in reverence showed
The greatest honour to a youth who rode
Before the rest. 'Twas he the battle won ;
And Persian maidens, when the day is done,
Still sing, when all the living sounds are mute,
His lasting praises to the tender lute.
The Princess drew her curtains back, and said,
" Where rides this gallant band ? By whom is 't led r "
A slave girl whispers, tempting like some elf,
" Peep t' wards him, madam, for 'tis Hassan's self."
The Princess drew' her veil, and glanced amazed
To see great Persia's hero. As she gazed
His eyes met hers, she started, trembled, flushed,
Then dropped the veil before she knew she blushed,
Then paled and quickly drew the curtains round,
While distant horsehoofs rang upon the ground.
194 THE THEATRE. [AI-RIL i, 1889.
Decreed the mighty Shah, " The king commands,
Go bid my nobles hear it in all lands,
A prize to him who can outrun the course
To distant Ispahan, before my horse,
From Shiraz starting ; and I give for prize
My youngest daughter, " Light of many eyes."
The people murmured — for the road was long-
Deeming it cruel, and the trial wrong.
But the young nobles gathered to the place,
Girt round with bands they wait the coming race.
And one among them, darker than the rest,
Stands calmly, by a thousand voices blest,
And dreams of eyes which he dare strive to win,
And prays to Allah 'neath the people's din.
There comes the Shah, the mighty king of kings.
And loud and echoing to the air there rings
The growing roar of voices, as they bend
Before the "World's Regard." The roses lend
Sweet perfume to the air ; the butterflies,
Of glowing purple, soar toward the skies.
The race is started, and the people's prayer
Mounts high with praises on the scented air.
They start — they race, but carefully and slow,
The taller striding o'er the ground below,
The others bending as they keep the pace
And hopeless feel the issue of the race.
For well the nobles knew the setting sun
Would see that ended, which could not be won.
Hassan alone hoped on while others fell.
The monarch marvelled that he ran so well,
Feared he might win, and straight devised a plan
To seal his fate e'er reaching Ispahan.
The ligatures, he reasoned, bind him round,
So follows death if he should touch the ground
Or even stoop. He feigned to let it slip,
And by the side of Hassan dropped his whip.
" 'Tis death to bend/' the noble hopeless sighed—
" Help me, O Allah ! Succour me ! " he cried.
Then with his foot he raised the whip, and ran
Toward the heights that herald Ispahan.
APRIL i, 1889.] A MYSTKRV ()/' MANCIPLE'S INN. 195
.
The trick had failed, but flashing in the air
Rose diamonds and rubies, wondrous rare —
The king had dropped his ring, and fate revealed
His monarch's treachery, his own doom sealed.
One look toward the rosy sunset skies,
That blushed as cheeks o'ershadowed by dark eyes ;
One thought of her for whom the race was run,
One prayer to Allah, ere the deed was done.
" Great King, you break the sacred word you passed,
While I am true to Persia to the last."
He stooped, picked up the ring, to Allah cried,
And, sinking at the horse's feet, he died.
The}' say the Princess cried herself to sleep,
But who can tell what follies women \veep :
The Shatir's Column, so the legend ran,
Still marks his grave near golden Ispahan.
CLARA SAYILE CLARKE.
"A Mystery of Manciple's Inn."
BY WALTER PARK.E.
" Beware of jealousy ! '' — Sfmkapcan'.
.S. GREENIGH knew very little about the stage,
and cared less. Nowadays, it would seem that out
of every half-dozen persons we meet, three are
going, or want to go, on the stage, two are writing'
dramas, and only, one is quite indifferent to
histrionic affairs.- Mrs.. Greenigh was therefore exceptional.
She came of a dissenting family, who set their faces against
theatrical exhibitions of any kind, and regarded all those who
took part in them as black sheep, or children of perdition.
Without holding such extreme views herself, Mrs. Greenigh
still looked with disfavour upon "the profession:" on rare
196 THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
occasions, indeed, patronising the drama, but only in its most
serious and severe form.
Robert Greenigh, Esq., was a general correspondent to the
" Daily Calendar," whose circulation, as everybody knows,
reaches to six figures. Mr. Greenigh's duties were various : he
was an obedient slave of the lamp, ever ready to go anywhere
and do anything at the bidding of the editomil magician.
Naval' and military reviews, boat-races, prize-fights, Exeter
Hall meetings, theatrical first nights, or Riviera gaieties — all
came within his province to chronicle or describe. He was
therefore a great deal away from home, and when in London
frequently stayed at his chambers in Manciple's Inn, E.G.
When off duty he was to be^found at his suburban residence,
" Jalousie Villa," Finchley Vale, N., a house so named because
it had Venetian blinds to all the windows.
Of late Mr. Greenigh had become one of the dramatic critics
of the "Weekly Proscenium." His wife was by no means
gratified at this extended theatrical connection, nor did she
altogether approve of his living so much in chambers ; there
was a sort of irresponsible bachelorism in the very idea. In
reality he was a steady-going citizen, for whom the stage had
long ceased to have any illusions, and who was neither of an
age nor a temperament for reckless Bohemianism. But Mrs. G.
was not convinced of this ; she had her doubts and fears and
misgivings, although, up to the present time, she had wisely
kept them to herself. But one fatal morning Mrs. Greenigh
made a discovery. It happened in this wise. Mr. Greenigh,
having previously announced that he would probably not be
home that night, departed hurriedly to catch the 11.5 train to
town. Just before starting he lit a cigar, and after he had gone
Mrs. Greenigh happened to pick up the piece of paper he had
used as a " spill." It was the remnant of a letter received by
him that morning; the writer's name, like most of the contents,
had been " burnt and purged away," but on what remained
these startling words were plainly visible : " Lucy will come to
your chambers at Manciple's Inn to-morrow evening at seven."
Mrs. Greenigh, though rather a strong-minded lady, was for
the moment quite overcome. A whole vista of terrible possi-
bilities was at once unfolded to her view. Who was Lucy?
Mrs. Greenigh knew no one of that name. Evidently there was
, iSSy l A J/KVy/iAT OF MA\CiriJ-:'S L\'\. i,,7
a mystery here, and Mrs. Greenign, who was fond of mysteries at
all times, had naturally a vital interest in this one. She might
have solved it at once by rushing after her departed lord and
demanding an explanation, but by this time the 1 1.5 train was
well on its way ; so, after many deep cogitations on the mystery,
she resolved to investigate it secretly, and in person. " If Lucy
is going to be there at seven o'clock this evening, then so will
I !" said Mrs. ( in'enigh to herself.
This was tjjhe easier of accomplishment as she had intended to
go up to town that afternoon, on a shopping expedition. When
that business was over, then for the pleasure of dropping in
upon Mr. Robert unawares !
In due time she set out, and on this occasion got through her
shopping most expeditiously. In two hours and a half — includ-
ing an interval for refreshment at the confectioner's — she had
bought pretty nearly everything she wanted, and having filled
a hansom with her purchases, she ordered the cabman to drive
her to Man ici pie's Inn.
On arriving, a little after seven o'clock, she dismissed the cab at
the entrance, having previously had her parcels taken up to the
first landing. But she ascertained that Mr. Greenigh's rooms,
which she had never visited before, were on the next floor ; so,,
leaving her luggage, she mounted another flight, stealthily and
cautiously, " in the gloaming," like a detective or a conspirator.
Then she stopped suddenly and clutched at the balustrade for
support ; for the first sounds she heard, although just what she
had anticipated, came, upon her with a 'terrible shock. There
were two voices — one was that of Robert Greenigh, the other
unmistakably feminine ! Mrs. Greenigh approached the closed
door (the keyhole was unfortunately not vacant), and stood on
the mat to listen. Yes, they were talking and laughing in the
liveliest manner, little dreaming that the outraged avenger was
so near.
"This is how it goes," said the feminine voice.
There was a creaking as if someone had suddenly sat down
on a music-stool, and the next moment, after a melodious pre-
lude on the piano, a rich contralto pealed forth the following :
" Oh ! meet me, darling, meet me,
Or my longing heart will break,
At eve beneath the willows
Softly drooping o'er the lake ;
i()8 THE THEATRE [AI-RIL i,-i889.
When silver moonlight ripples,
And the gentle zephyrs wake,
AVill you meet me, will you meet me,
On the margin of the lake ?"
Then the refrain was repeated, and the baritones of Robert's
voice could be heard chiming in —
" I'll meet thee, yes, I'll meet thee."
They went through another verse, which was very much to
the same purpose.
This ditty would no doubt have pleased any impartial hearer,
but Mrs. Greenigh was in no mood to appreciate its beauties,
either as a composition or a performance. Already she had
heard enough, she believed, to confirm her worst suspicions ;
nevertheless, she waited breathlessly for what was coming next.
"There, don't you think that will fetch 'em, eh. Bob?" said
the lady vocalist.
Bob .' the familiar — too familiar — sound came to Mrs. Greenigh
like a box on the ear.
" Lovely ! Lucy," exclaimed Mr. Greenigh. We have
charitably punctuated his words in this way, but to Mrs.
Greenigh they seemed to form one exclamation, the " lovely "
applying to Lucy and not to the song.)
•"It isn't half bad," remarked the unseen contralto; "sure to
go well, especially as I shall sing it in a new and magnificent
dress I am having made for the part, with a peacock-blue satin
train six feet long. How's that for high, old man ? '"
"Why, you'll look splendid ! "answered Mr. Greenigh ; " but
there, you always do ! "
"Oh, sir, spare my blushes!" returned his companion, in a
demure and affected voice.
" Upon my word, Lucy, you're a marvel ! "
"\yarn! \ yam!" acquiesced the other, in burlesque tones.
" I'm going to have several photos taken in that dress, and you
shall have a whole copy, all to yourself."
-"Thanks, Lucy, and I'll have it set in an amber- plush frame,
ornamented with stuffed kittens ! "
"I say, I think I'd better get ready," said Lucy, audibly
rising from the piano: i" I shan't be long, and then we'll get
into a hansom and go. together."
AMUL i, iss9.] . / MYSTERY OF MANCIPLE'S INN. 199
" Of course we will," repliecf Mr. Greenigh.
" I'll just pop into your room and put on my evening
dress," (!) said Lucy; "and if you've no objection, Robert, I'll
take another cigarette ! "
The striking of a match and a "puff preliminary" could be
heard.
Mrs. Greenigh could endure this no longer. Here was a dis-
covery indeed ! She had played the spy to .some purpose. To
her the situation was perfectly clear. Lucy was evidently con-
nected with the stage ; not the severe and classical stage, which
alone Mrs. Greenigh could tolerate, but some fast and frivolous
variety of histrionic art. Probably, indeed, Lucy was one of
those dreadful persons who perform at the objectionable places
known as music-halls. Her cigarette-smoking and slangy style
of conversation, not always quite intelligible to Mrs. G., con-
firmed this conclusion.
To put all doubt at rest, Mrs. Greenigh at length made a
" sensational " entrance upon the scene of action. Violently
turning the handle of the door, she flung it open suddenly and
widely, and confronted her astonished spouse. He was alone,
the inner door was closed.
" Bless my soul ! " exclaimed Mr. Greenigh, who was stand-
ing with his back to the fireplace, " I little thought of seeing
you f"
;"I am quite sure of that" she replied. "I was neither ex-
pected nor desired, that's evident, but I have sworn to give you
a surprise, and so — I am here!"
"You seem agitated ?"
"Rather!"
" What's the matter ? "
•"You ask me what's the matter? — you actually have the
audacity to look me in the face and pretend to be unconscious !
Oh ! I can scarcely contain myself!"
" Is anything wrong r " he asked, quietly.
"Oh, no, of course not," she answered, with biting sarcasm.
"It's all quite right and proper, no doubt, and particularly
agreeable to mcy of course."
"Really, my dear, you're talking in riddles. Pray explain
yourself. Sit-down and have a cup of tea."
2oo THE THEATRE. [ VI-R... i, 1889,
"Tea!" She gave him a withering look, and then began
pacing the room like an encaged and enraged tigress.
The room was rather large and comfortably furnished. There
was a pianette in the corner, with some manuscript music above
its open keyboard ; several theatrical portraits adorned a
cabinet opposite, and on the central table were the remains of
" tea for two."
"Oh, Robert!" burst out Mrs. Greenigh, tragically, "to
think that all these years I have been cherishing a viper !"
" I do wish you'd tell me what you're driving at," he replied.
" Who — what has upset you r "
" Who? what? — you exasperate me beyond patience by as-
suming this idiotic ignorance ! As if you didn't know ! /know
all — and a pretty discovery I've made ! I've suspected some-
thing for some time, but I was a blind fool, and didn't expect
half enough, or soon enough. But my eyes are opened at last.
,Vmv I know the real reason of your being so much away from
home. Now I know why you want a piano, which 'you can no-
more play yourself than you can work a sewing machine !"
" I took it with the rest of the furniture from Blithers the
barrister," pleaded Mr. Greenigh, meekly.
" Nmv I know how your money goes," she proceeded. " It is
to buy peacock-blue satin dresses, with trains six feet long ! "
" Never bought such a thing in my life," he protested.
" "Tis false ! but 'tis useless to argue with you. I'm positive
she's here. I heard her voice. Produce her at once. I insist
upon seeing her ! "
" Who ? "
" Lucy ! "
"Lucy:" Mr. Greenigh's mouth and eyes both opened wide,,
and then, as if something had suddenly struck him as ex-
quisitely ridiculous, he flung himself into an armchair and went
off into a fit of laughter.
This inexplicable and ill-timed merriment only added fuel to-
the flame of his wife's wrath.
" So it's a laughing matter, is it ? " she asked. " Well, we
shall see, when this affair comes into court, for come it shall, as
sure as my name 's Maria Selina ! "
Mr. Greenigh only laughed louder, and exclaimed, in half-
choked accents, " Oh, this is too good ! "
MISS OLGA NETHERSOLE.
"Only iu llic world 1 till up a phicc, which nuiy be belter .supplied when I
have made it empty."
As Yor LIKR Ii, Act I., Sc, 2.
FROM A PHOTOGRAPH SPF.CIAU.Y I AKKN FOR "TFIF. IHKAIRK
BY WINDOW LV CrKOVE, 63A, BAKER STREET, W.
APRIL i, 1889.] A J/r.v/'AYxT QF MANCIPLE'S INN. 201
>
"Too good > Your conduct is too bad for anything! But it
shall be punished as it deserves. Robert (jreenigh, the world
shall know how I've been wronged, insulted, basely deceived,
and byjw/ .'"
" Nothing of the kind," he protested, trying to be serious.
" If I could only find words to express my opinion of your
^baseness !" she exclaimed. "And to think I have wasted my life
upon such a — hollow mockery. You are trying to break my
heart, but it shan't break — there ! I look upon you, not in
sorrow, but in anger. You want me to cry, but I won't — no —
•never!" and she flung her handkerchief on the floor and
stamped upon it.
Mr. Greenigh had by this time finished laughing.
"Maria," he said, "what a pity you don't go on the stage !
You'd make your fortune as a tragedy queen ! "
"Silence!" she answered, "and do not further insult me by
your levity. Luckily your very wickedness will lead to my
relief. Your staying away from home half your time amounts
to desertion, and as for the main charge, it's as clear as day-
light ! "
"Nothing's certain in this world," he replied, with provoking
•calmness.
" Certain enough for a court of law. After I get my decree,
I know what I'll do. My native land has become hateful to me.
.1 will leave it for ever ! "
tt " No, don't do that ! " he said, " think better of it ! "
" I can't think worse of it than it deserves," returned the irate
lady, somewhat vaguely.
There was a pause, and now could be heard the hated voice
of Lucy in the inner room blithely warbling—
" I love my love ! I love my love ! "
"There," cried Mrs. Greenigh. "Nora am I right? Nmv can
you deny that she's in that room ? Oh ! I'll teach her to sing !"
She snatched up her sunshade, a massive implement, almost
.as formidable as the official umbrella of a British commander-
in-chief. Armed with this weapon the avenger approached
the inner door ; but her husband interposed.
"Hush!" he said; "don't make a disturbance ; don't do
-anything rash ! "
" I tell you I will ! "
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIIT. Q
202 THE THEATRE. LA.-RIL i, 1889.
" At least wait till Lucy's dressed ! " said Mr. Greenigh.
Airs. Greenigh paused. The hardened depravity of this man
was something astounding. Or had he suddenly become un-
settled in his mind, and thus unconscious of the enormity of his
offence ?
Mrs. Greenigh grasped her sunshade, and was about to make
another rush towards the offending door, when she heard the
handle of it turn from within. She drew herself up rigidly, her
eyes gleaming, and her heart beating fast, as she prepared for
the encounter. Then the door opened, and there emerged —
A young man in evening dress, just finishing the tying of his
white cravat as he advanced into the room.
" I'm ready if you are, old man," said the individual to Mr.
Greenigh, and then stopped short at perceiving Mrs. G.
" My wife/' said Robert.
"Delighted, I'm sure," returned the stranger, politely.
Mrs. Greenigh did not know what to say ; she could do
nothing but stare at the mysterious visitor.
He was apparently a very young man of rather small and
dapper figure, with dark curly hair, piercing eyes, and features
so clearly cut and even delicately formed that for a moment the
idea flashed upon her that this might be a double deception,
and that the strange youth was really a disguised But no,
that was impossible !
"My dear Maria," said Mr. Greenigh, utterly ignoring the
stormy interview which had just taken place between them,,
and had fortunately not reached the ears of the new comer,
" allow me to present to you Mr. Edmund Lucy, the celebrated
mimic and entertainer."
" Actor, ventriloquist, and polyphonic vocalist," added the
person referred to, and then continued, with true professional
volubility, " quick-change artiste extraordinary, and inventor
of the new and startling effects of varying light, whereby the
most magical transformations in face, figure, costume, and
Character are produced in full view of the audience. 'We
challenge the world to produce his equal.' That, madam, is
what the papers say of me — not what I say of myself, of course ;
I'm too modest for that."
" Not at all ! " answered Mrs. Greenigh, scarcely knowing
, 1889.] A MYSTERY or MANCIPLE'S /A'.V. 203
what she was saying, farther "anger had melted into sheer
bewilderment.
"The * Weekly Blazer' says of my performance," continued
the artiste, "'The marvellous mimetic and vocal powers pos-
sessed by Mr. Hdmund Lucy are really phenomenal. He can
keep up the most realistic falsetto, not only for a few minutes,
but for the entire evening. He can perform any character, in
any language, of any nationality, of any age, young or old,
masculine or feminine. He can sing, speak, and recite in any
voice, whether basso profoncfo, ten ore robusto, alto, mezzo, or hij^h
SDpnuio.' Listen ; " and this remarkable individual carolled forth
some miscellaneous snatches of song, beginning with " The
Wolf," and so through "I fear no foe," "My Pretty Jane,"
" The Storm," £c., winding up with a flourish from the " Shadow
Air " in " Dinorah " !
" It's marvellous ! " exclaimed Mrs. Greenigh.
" It is — I admit it," returned this vocal Proteus, putting on/
his light overcoat.
" It's noteworthy, too, Maria," observed Mr. Greenigh, " that
our friend here is descended from the Sir Thomas Lucy who
prosecuted Shakespeare for deer-stealing."
" Indeed ! — how interesting ! " said Mrs. Greenigh.
" Several relics of my distinguished ancestor are still pre-
served in our family," added Mr. Lucy.
" My wife would like to go to your entertainment this
evening," said Robert.
" I shall be proud and happy," answered the performer ; " and
please note, Mrs. Greenigh, that it is my first appearance in the
character of Miss Flora Fleurette, the belle of New Orleans,,
with song, ' Meet me by the lake.' " Here he unrolled a litho-
graph of a young lady in a peacock-blue satin dress, with a
voluminous train.
*' And now, Robert," said Mr. Lucy, "we've no time to spare.
We must take a four-wheeler and drive post-haste to my show"
at the Babylonian Hall, Pall Mall North."
" And, dear me, Robert, I was forgetting all about my
parcels," said Mrs. Greenigh.
The entertainment that evening was a brilliant success, and
nobody enjoyed it more than Mr. and Mrs. Greenigh. In the
course of the evening "The World's Own and Only Entertainer"
204 THE THE A TRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
(as Mr. tLucy was unassumingly described in the bills) repre-
sented a dozen characters, three of them feminine, and among
these latter the peacock-blue satin heroine was first favourite.
Mr. Greenigh promised his wife never to breathe to a living
soul what had passed that evening at his chambers in Man-
ciple's Inn. But somehow the story got about, to the intense
amusement, especially, of the "polyphonic vocalist."
Mrs. Greenigh never unearthed any more " mysteries " afte r
the notable, but pardonable, blunder she had been led to
commit ; and as, since Robert has become chief contributor to the
" Social Thunderbolt/' he does most of his work at home, and
has given up his chambers and his theatrical connections, her
mind is much relieved on all points. But whenever she shows
any tendency to undue jealousy or unfounded suspicion, he can
always silence her with the talismanic word " Lucy ! "
MORAL. — " Seeing is not always believing " — nor hearing
either !
Womanly Help.
A STORY FOR RECITATION.
SCENE I.
^IIROUGH a scant skylight shone the summer sun
Into a narrow attic, neat but bare ;
Save for a palliasse of straw and one
Disabled chair.
The cupboard door was open, but no food
Lay there to stay the craving of the child
That, beautiful though wan and weary, stood
And sweetly smiled
Upon her mother, who was kneeling lowly ;
Trying, with trembling lips, to form a prayer
For bread — while bitter tears fell, marring slowly
Her face once fair.
Aye ! and still fair, though she had surely known
Little, save grief, since her young husband died,
Leaving her and their little one alone
To seem life's tide.
, 1889.] WOMANLY HELP. 205
^y
Six years ago to-day she knelt so gladly
In the old village church when she was wed ;
She thinks she hears the bells still, but they sadly
Toil for the dead.
She thinks, too, of the pretty home, the flowers,
The dear, dead hands that for her welfare wrought ;
She thinks till head and heart ache, and the hours
Are one sad thought.
" Sing, mother ! sing ! I shan't feel hungry then ! "
The touching words arouse her. To her feet
She starts, and hastes, murm'ring a prayer again,
Into the street ;
Where ladies in gay equipages drive,
Where men walk by with purses full of gold,
Where children laugh, and run, and play, and thrive ;
She will be bold,
For her child's sake ! yes, she will stand and sing
Among the .crowds that loiter on their way ;
Perchance the voice lie loved may serve to bring
Food for the day.
SCENE II.
On a low couch, within a handsome room
Which art and wealth had joined to furnish forth,
There sat a woman graceful as a fawn.
Her stately form was draped in sheeny silk,
A star of brilliants shone upon her head,
And round her neck and wrists flashed the pure rays
Of many diamonds ; while in her eyes
Were tears, but not of sorrow, for her heart
O'erflowed with gratitude. Within an hour
Her glorious voice would thrill each ardent soul
In the huge crowded opera-house. The world
Of song would bow itself before her there ;
She was its queen. Earth's cities held her high
In honour, and with riches and with love
Bore tribute to the triumph of her art.
And yet, to-night, she thought of olden days,
When, as a child, her meals were poor and few,
2c6 . THE THEATRE. tAl>RIL
And her one joy was singing — when her voice,
A little later, led the village choir —
And wrhen a stranger, in the rector's pew,
Heard her rich notes and carried her away
To Italy and trained her there ; and when
There came a day that, on a stage, she stood,
In fear and hope, but paid him for his care
With such a flood of harmony that they
Who heard arose and thundered their applause.
Her carriage waited by the porch below,
Yet still she lingered, for the evening air
Stole through the open windows and bore in
The scent of blossoms from the balcony —
A scent that took her willing spirit back
To early childhood with its want and care.
There came, commingling with the perfume faint,
A soft, sad voice all tremulous, a voice
That sang sweet music fitted to sweet words —
A voice that hovered on the verge of tears.
The prima donna, standing, swept aside
The silken curtains. She beheld a crowd
Drawn from the noisy roadway, listening ;
Some half-contemptuous, half-derisive some ;
Yet all agape with interest, around
A thin, weak woman and a starving child.
The woman, singing there, looked far too frail
To bear the curious scrutiny of strange eyes.
Sudden, the voice ceased and there rose a cry
From those white lips, that pierced the lady through.
She saw the singer fall a-faint ; her heart
Beat fast ; her breath came quick ; she flew apace
Down her grand stairway, and, before the crowd
Could aid the sufferer, she bade her men
Bear that still figure to the house. She took
The infant in her tender arms, and stood
There in the street. She sang a song divine,
Such as her hearers never heard before.
Like folk entranced they listened. On she sang
Till the wide road was blocked from side to side.
APRIL i, 1889.] A NEW>COMPANY. 207
Then, in the bravery of silk attire
And priceless gems, she begged of them their alms-
Alms for the starving mother and her child.
Lavish the gifts they gave. Each strove to gi\ •<•
More than another, till the carriage seats
Glittered with heaped-up coin. Again glad tears
Fell, as she thanked the givers for their gifts,
And heard the ringing cheers that halted her deed.
ERIC HAM i!
A New Company.
HE following are the particulars of a new company
which is about to be placed before the public. The
details are taken from an advance copy of the
prospectus, but, for reasons which will be readily
understood, the names of the principal persons con-
cerned are in the meantime withheld.
The Company, which is still unchristened, has been formed
to undertake the exploitation of Mr. Y. Z., the well-known
dramatist. The capital is fixed at ^250,000, in 50,000 shares of
/~5 each, of which the vendor is to receive 20,000 fully paid up,
in exchange for the good- will, stock, fittings, <Scc , of his
business. It is almost unnecessary to point out, so the
prospectus continues, that the exceptionally favourable terms
upon which Mr. Y. Z. has been acquired give every guarantee
for the success of the enterprise. Indeed a valuation made on
the part of the promoters by Messrs. A. and B., the eminent
phrenologists, amply proves that the shareholders have secured
a most valuable property at a ridiculously low figure.
The stock actually in hand is represented by two farcical
comedies, of which the second act of the first and the third act
of the second are still wanting; the germ of an. emotional
(modern) drama in four acts, and a comic opera adapted from
the French. There is, however, in addition to these, a consider-
able, although latent, fund both of invention'and humour, and a
vein of pathos which, it is thought, will prove practically
2C8 THE THEATRE. [ • .-KH. i, 1889.
inexhaustible. It will thus be seen that the Company is in a
position to begin operations at once, and will be prepared to
execute orders with the least possible delay from whatever
quarter they come.
It is proposed to work the business upon the most compre-
hensive lines. Each new idea extracted from Mr. Y. Z. will be
placed in the hands of three distinct manipulators, who may be
relied on to use it to the best advantage. By one of these it will
be worked up into a three-volume novel, by a second into a
play, by a third it will be made to take the shape of a poem
for recitation. The cost] of such a staff will, it is calculated, be
comparatively small, it having been abundantly proved that
there are numbers of capable men, possessed of every facility
for the mere manual labour of writing, who, once provided with
the groundwork of a play, may be safely entrusted to erect a
presentable edifice thereon. Such individuals have hitherto-
given themselves over to the routine work of journalism — a
position from which, it is an open secret, they would eagerly
snatch at the first opportunity of freeing themselves.
The Company willjjplace itself in communication with the
managers of all the leading theatres, alike in this and other
countries. These^will be invited to make known their wants
from time to time, and as they will have the certainty of being
at once suited, it may be taken for granted that they will not
trouble to look elsewhere. A new feature will also be intro-
duced in the shape of travellers, who will be instructed to call
upon country managers and submit to them samples of the
Company's manufactures, such as the most recent novelty in
the way of effective (theatrical) murder, or a choice specimen.
of incisive dialogue. It is confidently believed that such a
system will help greatly to extend the scope of the Company's
transactions.
In proportion^as these increase, the directors propose to buy
up other successful writers for the stage, with a view ultimately
to secure to themselves a practical monopoly of the dramatic
business. In this way the amateur nuisance will be finally
abolished, a boon for which managers will doubtless be
properly grateful. In order, however, to provide for future con-
tingencies,^ Lis in contemplation to found a school for such as
may be desirous of becoming dramatists ; and as from these
Al'RIL I, 1889.]
OUR PLAY-BOX.
209
apprentices a heavy premium will be exacted, the directors are
sanguine of securing an important addition to the income of the
Company from that source alone.
That the profits arising from a successful play are enormous,
is a fact too well known to require confirmation here. It
is only needful to point to the present position of some whor
without any particular aptitude for dramatic writing, have
acquired princely fortunes by the manufacture of the article in
question. Moreover, the machinery required for its production
is peculiarlv inexpensive. In view therefore of the very ad-
vantageous conditions upon which .this Company is formed, the
directors believe that they will be able to place their produce
in the market at an exceptionally low cost price, although of
course they have no intention of allowing consumers to enjoy
the benefit of the fact. Indeed, it will be their aim, by means
of the monopoly already alluded to, to augment rather than
diminish the value of their wares.
For further particulars application is invited to the honorary
secretary, MALCOLM WATSOX.
©ur
"JULIUS C^SAR" AT OXFORD.
Julius Caesar . .
Octavius C;csar
Marcus Antonius .
M. JtaiiliuB Lepidus
Cicero
Pubiius
Popilius Lena
Marcus Brutus
Cassius
Casca
Tre boning
Decius Brutus
Metellus Ciml.cr
Cinua .. ..
Flavius . . • . .
Marullus . . . .
Artemidorus of
Cnidos
A Soothsaj er . .
Mr. A. H. E. GRAHAME,
Bal.
Mr. G. M. HARRIS, New.
Mr. W. j. MORRIS, M.A.,
Jesus.
Mr. <;. K. OLIVIER, Mer.
Mr. L. C. LlDDELL, Ch. Ch.
Mr. K. F. NUGENT, Ch.Cb.
Mr. L. D. G. LITTLE, Mer.
Mr. A. BOURCHIER, B.A.,
Ch. Ch.
Mr. E. II. CLARK, B.A.,
New.
M r. CLAUD NuGENT.Ch.Ch.
Mr.B.B LEiGHTON,«'h.Ch.
Mr. H. B. IRVING. New.
Mr. K. M. LAURIE, Ch. Ch.
Mr. IAN IfROBKLL, New.
Mr. <;. M. HARRIS, New.
Mr. W. T. FRANKS, B.A.,
I n v.
i Mr. A. M. BRADIIURST,
f ch. Ch.
Mr. .1. B. SEATON, Ch. Ch.
Cinua, a Poet
Lucilius
Titinius
Messala
Volumuius
1 ucius
Clitua
Strato
First CiMzmr .
Second Citiztu
Pindarus
Seivant to Caesar ..
Seivant to Antony .
Servant to Octavius
Calpuiuia .. ..
Ladies attendant on
Calpuruiu
Portia
Mr. E. F. NCGEST, Ch. Ch,
Mr. K. M.LAURIE, Ch.Ch.
Mr. J. B. SEATON, < h. Ch,
Mr. I. MITCHELL, New.
Mr. KOHEKT 1'KKL, BaL
Miss BRIGSTOCKE.
Mr. J. GOFTON, St. John's.
Mr. A. JKiCHARDS, St,
John's.
Mr. J. GOFTON. St. Jolin's.
Mr. A. KICHARDS, St-
JohuV.
Mr. H. H. WoRTHiN<;n»N.
Ch. Ch.
Mr. W. T. FRANKS, M.A.r
Iniv.
Mr. ROBERT PEEL. Bal.
Mr. L. C. Lnu-ELL, CD. Ch,
Mrs. I IIAKLES SIM.
Mrs. NUGENT JACKSON.
Miss WIGHAM, Miss E.
WIG it AM. and Miss
MILLS.
Mrs. W. L. Coi'RTNKY.
What was it that induced a few London students of the stage to go down
to Oxford on the evening of February 27 — a day by no means pleasant, so
far as atmosphere and temperature were concerned ? A sense of duty, of
210
THE THE A 7 RE.
[APRIL i, 1889.
course, in the first place ; for they represented certain metropolitan jour-
na's. Bat what, in their own minds, did they go out for to see ? what, for
rrl HI: If?) _rrl .
them, were the chief points of attraction ? I cannot presume to speak for
my friends, Mr. Nisbet, of the " Times," and Mr. Archer, of the " World ; "
but, for myself, many things drew me. First, I had
never seen the new Oxford Theatre; secondly, the
O.U.D.S. (otherwise the Oxford University Dramatic
Society) was unknown to me except by name ; I was
interested, in particular, in Mr. Arthur Bourchier, of
whom I had heard and read great things ; I was
curious to see what Mr. Henry Irving, jun., would
do with the part he had undertaken to play; and,
lastly, I was not less curious to note what a body of
amateurs, however earnest and clever, would be able
to make of "Julius Caesar," surely one of the most
difficult of Shakespearean plays for the non-pro-
fessional to attack. There was an element of interest
in .the announcement that Mr. Alma Tadema had
supplied designs for the most important scenes —
those of the Forum, of Caesar's Palace, and of a
street in Rome ; but the present writer is one of
those for whom the play's the thing, and for whom
the pictorial background is only of secondary value.
Clearly, however,"there were quite sufficient reasons for going down to
Al'RIL I, 1889.]
OUR PLAY-BOX.
2 1 I
Oxford on this occasion, even though the railway arrangements were of so
primitive an order that one could not get back to town immediately
•after the performance, but muse needs pass the night under the shadow
of the University, a
waste of time grievous
•to the soul of the o'er-
burdened journalist.
Nor did Oxford wel-
come us very cordially.
An hour or so before
the opening of the
theatre doors the snow
began to fall, and the
theatrical pilgrim found
the horhe of culture in
a state of slush. The
theatre itself struck me
as commodious"-" and
neat — much more so
than I had hoped for
or expected. It cannot
be said that the citizens
.appeared to be over-
excited by the event
of the evening, for there
was no thronging at
•the vestibules, and the auditorium, though largely occupied, was not exactly
•crowded. The big-wigs, it seems, were reserving themselves fot the
Saturday night performance (the 2yth was a Wednesday) ; but we met in
•the stalls that enthusiastic friend of the drama, Mr. W. L. Courtney, of
"New"; Mr. George Lewis, jun., of " Balliol," of
courteous father, courteous son ; young Mr. Morell
Mackenzie (late of Cambridge), representing for
this once the "Morning Post" and the "Pall
Mall Gazette" (delightful combination!); young
Mr. Lefanu, son of the admirable novelist, and
himself an artist — with the pencil ; and some
others, of not ignoble note.
But, what about the performance ? you will say.
Well, I am coming to it. And I will take it in the
order of interest I have mentioned. I had come,
more particularly, to see Mr. Bourchier, and I was
won immediately by his impressive presence arid
hi-s expressive voice. He looked Brutus to the life, and his tones
were always a pleasure to the ear. They seemed, however, not always
under his control. This was the "first iv'ght," and a large part of the
3^-1
2 12
THE THEATRE.
[APRIL i, 1889,
burden of the arrangements for the production had fallen upon his
shoulders. How, then, could we expect that his impersonation would be
marked by absolute finish in detail ? I have no doubt that, on subsequent
afternoons and evenings (they had two matinees), Mr.
Bourchier spoke all his lines at the proper pitch and
with the necessary emphasis ; and I have no doubt,
too, that his goings to and fro, his sittings-down, his
demeanour, and his gestures generally, were wholly in
accordance with the words and with the situation.
Even as it was, his Brutus had a breadth as well as
an ease, both of conception and of execution, which
gave me real pleasure, and at once took the repre-
sentation out of the ordinary amateur rut. Not that his performance
stood alone in excellence, whether achieved or suggested. The Cassius of
Mr. E. H. Clark, for example, was, as a whole, even more satisfying than
Mr. Bourchier's Brutus, -though, in the earlier scenes, rather too lago-
like in manner and in speech. The performer appeared really to have
entered into the character assumed, and to have formed an idea of it to
which he was giving full effect. Mr. W. J. Morris's Marc Antony, too —
nothing could well have been better, in the way of "business" and of
elocution ; a most intelligent effort, and marred only by the actor's failure
APRIL i, 1889.] OUR rLAV-HOX. 21 ,
to convey Marc Antony to the eye as happily as he conveyed hi.n to the
mind. But though everybody, I am sure, appreciated the praiseworthy
points of both the Cassius and the Antony, it was concerning the Decius
Brutus, I think, that most of us had the greatest curiosity, and certainly
we followed him with close attention. This was the part young Mr. Irving
was to play, and when he first came on he was saluted with a round of
applause, intended (we cannot say which) for himself or for his father's son.
No doubt he was well conscious of the feeling with which he was regarded,
and this may account for a certain restlessness of bearing, a certain
redundancy of gesture, noticeable in his opening passages. But afterwards
he warmed to his work and recited his lines with agreeable discretion,
displaying, meanwhile, in the timbre of his voice, in his walk, and in his
features, the unmistakable indications of his parentage.
Had all the smaller roles in the tragedy been equally well rendered, the
general result would have been more satisfactory. As it is, when one has
celebrated the sympathetic earnestness of Mrs. Courtney as -Portia, of Mrs.
Sim as Calpurnia, and of Miss Brigstocke as ^^
Lucius, one has mentioned all who need be
^particularly named, though Mr. A. H. E.
Grahame had done his best to give, externally
.at any rate, a counterfeit presentment of the
title character. We must remember, how-
ever, not only that it was a first night, but
that all engaged were non - professionals,
•called upon suddenly to plunge into the
garments, and imitate as closely as may be the bearing and manners,
of the Ancient Roman. I am constrained to say that I think there
was too lavish a display, on the part of the gentlemen, of the human leg
divine (or otherwise). There are legs, and legs ; and most of those I saw
on February 27 were of the corrugated and the hirsute sort : wherefore I
•conceive it would have been well if there had been less realism and more
" tights " in this historical production. On the other hand, what can we
have but praise for the singleness of soul with which these " young bar-
barians, all at play," set to work to put before us old Rome and the Romans
Avith as much verisimilitude as they could manage ? If they were not wholly
successful, if the "crowds" were not quite convincing, and if even Mr.
Tadema's designs did not quite create the illusion of reality, this at least is
certain — that the mere attempt to secure success was commendable, and
that, thanks to the hard work of Mr. Stewart Dawson, who "stage-
managed," a measure of vraiscmblance was actually arrived at. Mr.
" Leslie Mayne " had composed some very appropriate music, and it was
excellently played by an orchestra reinforced from town. At the represen-
tations which followed, the attendance, it is said, was very gratifying, while
the acting naturally improved with each successive performance. Altogether,
"Julius Crcsar" at Oxford was a tour dc force of which the O.U.D.S. mny
\veli be proud, and of which I am glad to have been a witness.
U'. DAVENPORT
2i4 THE THEATRE. [A.-RIL i, 1889.
"THE BOOKMAKER."
A ISew and Original Comedy in three acts, by J. W. Pir.oir.
l-'irst produced at Terry's Theatre on the afternoon of March 19th, 1880.
Sir Joseph Trent .. Mr. EmvARl> TKRKY.
The Earl of Har-
Bubbles ........ Mr. W. HAR<; HEAVES.
Janie* ........ Mr. GEORGE HELMORE.
bnrou.u-h ...... Mr. ALFRED BlSHOK i Lady Hurborouyh .. Miss ROUKRTHA En-
UeraldLordMaidment Mr. H. BEEVES SMITH. SKIM:.
The Hon. Jaek Care\v Mr. MATTHEW BROIUK. . Lady Jessie Har-
The Marquis of Bud- bormiiih ...... Miss MARIE LINDEV.
lt-i'4-li ........ Mr. GEORGE DAL/IEL. Sybil Hardwieke , .. HiuELEANORKLEYSHOX:
Mr. Mortmain .. .. Mr. SANT MATTHEWS. [ Polly .. ....... Miss WATT-TAN NEK.
This play -can hardly be called original. The scene takes place in
Harborough Castle, present day. The Earl and his wife have noticed a
change in their son Gerald since he left Oxford. He has been sad and.
preoccupied. His mother thinks the reason to be his love for Sybil, which
seems hopeless, as both are poor. She therefore thinks to bring him
welcome news in telling him that the late Sir Henry Trent, cousin to the,
Earl, who once loved Sybil's mother, and knew of the girl's love for Gerald,.
has left them some money jointly on condition that they should marry.
Lad>- Harborougli, leaves the young people together, and a sad explanation
ensues. Gerald has allowed himself to drifc into love for Sybil withou1:
realising that he had. gained her affection, and now he has to upbraid
himself and tell her in heart-broken tones that he is married already. This.
is not the only trouble in the house. Harborough is mortgaged up to the
hilt to Lord Budleigh, who is ready to forego all claims if Jessie, Lord
Harborough's daughter, consents to be his wife. But she is in love with
Jack Carew, who adores her, and is, therefore, very loth to consent;
especially as Lord Budleigh is only in love with himself and his position,
and considers he is doing her great honour. Now about "the Book-
maker," the chief character in the play. The nephew of Sir Henry Trent,.
lefc an orphan at the early age of five, in perfect ignorance of his belong-
ing to a great family, the poor boy had to shift for himself as best he
could. First a jockey, now a bookmaker, he comes to Harborough
Castle by appointment with the family lawyer, to be told he is heir to a
title and fortune. The new Sir. Joseph is uneducated and unpolished in
manner, and feels himself eminently out of place. Jessie's kindness and
courtesy entirely win his heart, which is that of a true gentleman, whatever
his manners may be. And he vows that she shall marry the man she loves
if money can do it. But he finds he is not free to dispose of his capital,
so he gets out of the difficulty by purchasing and presenting Jessie with
some wonderful racehorse which wins a fortune for her. So much for one
pair of lovers, the only objection to Jack being lack of money on either
side. It is almost needless to say that when the adventuress who has
entrapped Gerald into marriage appears on the scene to claim her rights,
she is recognised by the bookmaker as his wife, and Gerald is free, all
ending happily.
Most of the scenes are very good. There is a very pretty love scene
between Jessie and Jack, charmingly acted by Miss Marie Linden and
Mr. Matthew Brodie, both, the latter especially, being very good throughout..
The dialogue is smart and decidedly clever. "The Bookmaker" is a
Al'KIL I,
OUR PLAY BOX.
well drawn and natural character, admirably impersonated by Mr. Kdward
Terry. Mr. Alfred Bishop and Mr. Sant Matthews were decidedly good,
and Mr. Hargreaves, but for .his make up, excellent. Mr. Reeves Smith.
was spasmodic and unnatural in his delivery. Miss Leyshon was interesting,
and the dtfafafltrfrom Australia — Miss Watt-Tanner — had little to do as
the adventuress, but that little was well done. The author had an enthu-
siastic call. MAKII. m. MKNMU \.
•loli n Saxton .. . .
Tom Xaxtmi .. ..
Galuiel Harper
Dick Do \vlhm-.. ..
Hob l-'ressinuu-old . .
Siv Harry Cmydon. .
Downev Bleater
sindy Gough .. ..
Mr. '\\ II.-MIN MAKIIKTT.
Mr. LKWIS WAI.I.KK.
Mr. .hi. IAN CKOSS.
Mr. i;i:ol;,;|.; UARIIF.TT.
Mr. IlniiAci: HupGKS.
Mr. H. n»pi-i-:i: ci.n-Tr.
Mr. ATSTIN MKU-OKD.
Mr. W. A. F-U.lnTT.
.luniiier
l/irry Doubleduu
llMI'S
CoiiMialile ..
A my Harper ..
Kitty Saxton .. .
Peggy
Jenny Dowling
"NOWADAYS."
••A Tale of the Ti.rf." in four acts, l.y WII.SMN ]', \ i;i:r.TT.
First produced at a mating at the Princes--':; Theatre, Thursday, r'cliruary •>. 16»!».
.Mr. J. A. WKi.m.
Mr. s. M. CAKSON.
Mr. K. I'lTsrnxi:.
JMr. <;. A( i;i;in .
Mta WEBSTER.
Miss NI>KI;I:YS.
\ii" HARRIETTA I'm. INI..
MiSS <;i!A< I! 1I.\ \VTH<>KXK..
Since the days of "The Flying Scud" we have certainly had no sporting
drama that has taken greater hold of the public than Mr. Wilson Barretl's-
"Nowadajs." And this is not only or principally on account of the
stirring incidents, the abduction of a favourite racehorse, or the attempted
villany of an aristocrat towards a girl who loves him
well, but because the author has made his characters
human. Bookmakers do not generally bear the best
character?, but there are some good men among
them, and though a man may discard his son for a
time, ye*-, as a rule, a parent that does so, keenly
feels having driven his boy forth and longs to be
reconciled ; ar.d the vagaries of love are so strange
that we do not wonder at a bright, almost mis-
chievous, girl giving her heart to a jockey, who,
however good a rider he may be, does not certainly
impress one as being too brilliant a specimen of the
human race. Though our hero, John Saxton, ac'ed
rightly in a worldly point of view in refusing to fulfil
his promise to his old friend Harper, still, a man's
word should be his bond, and, having passed it to
assist him in his difficulty, he should have looked
upon the promise as sacred ; but then, perhaps, we
should have had no play, for out of this one act
springs all the motive. Saxton, we may suppose, is a
self-made man, with all the knowledge of the value of money that dis-
tinguishes the Yorkshireman. His son Tom is engaged to Amy Harper,
when suddenly her father is put to straits for money. Saxton promises to
lend him ^3,000, but hearing that he is, but for some stroke of luck, abso-
lutely insolvent, refuses to let him have the sum. Old Saxton has given
.216
THE THEATRE.
[Ai-uii. i, 1889.
Tom just ^"3,000 to pay into the bank. Harper tells him of his father's
refusal to aid him, and so the young fellow hands over to his future
father-in-law the notes, and is thus the means of re-establishing his
•credit. For this Tom is driven from, his home, but Harper adopts
him, in a manner, until such time as he discovers that his protege
has been clandestinely sending his father money— for the elder Saxton
:is now almost a pauper; his mines have been flooded, and he has
been compelled to sell off most of his belongings. His daughter Kitty
has decided she will marry a very promising jockey, Bob Fressing-
wold, but Saxton has determined she shall accept a blackleg baronet, Sir
Harry Croydon. This worthy is already privately married to Jenny, the
only child of Dick Dowling, a kind-hearted, honest bookmaker, and it is
of vital importance to Sir
Harry that " Thunderbolt," the
favourite for the Derby, shall
not win the race. The horse
belongs to Harper, and is in
the charge of Tom Saxton.
During the lattefs absence
(when he is reconciled to his
father, one of the most per-
fectly acted scenes ever wit-
jlfl 'A '
K'& nessed), the baronet, with the
% , aid of his confederates, Dow-
ney Bleater and Sandy Gough,
two " welshers," prevail upon
Juniper, the stable boy, to
allow them to steal the horse,
and the young scamp lets it be
understood that it was by Tom
Saxton's orders that the animal
was taken away, and thus Tom is likely to be arrested for the crime ; in
fact, the police are called in, but he manages to escape. Sir Harry
Croydon sends " Thunderbolt " to London, and persuades Jenny Dowling
to watch over it. Her father and Tom discover its hiding-place; and
when Jenny is told how her husband is engaged to Kitty Saxton, she
.allows it to be restored to its proper owner. Even then the race is any-
thing but a certainty, for the blacklegs "get at" Larry Doubledon, the
jockey who is to ride him, but fortunately their plot is overheard. At the
last moment he is stripped of his jacket, and Fressingwold gets the mount,
.and steers the favourite to victory. Dick Dowling saves the "welshers"
from being torn to pieces by an infuriated mob, and, for the sake of his
•daughter, prevents his son-in-law, the baronet, from being proclaimed a
defaulter," the latter promising amendment in the future. Saxton and
Harper forget and forgive, and the curtain fa1 Is on a scene of general
happiness.
ag^s. "^flr
A^A^^TA^^
MR. E. D. WARD.
" And unc man in his time plays many parts.''
As You LIKF. 1 1, Act II., Sc. 7.
A f'HO'l'M.KAt'H ^rr.ClALI^' TAKfcN TOR "THfc fHhAlKK
HV NARKAUD, LONDON AND LIVERPOOL.
APRIL i, 1889.]
OUR PLAY-BOX.
Mr. Wilson Barrett, clever as he is, has never done anything so goo;l
as John Saxton, the canny, obstinate Yorkshireman, hard and gruff and
determined to have his own way -outwardly, but with a world of kindliness
and worth under his rough exterior. There were little touches in the
performance that were absolutely perfection, and the whole was conceived
and carried out with a fidelity to nature that showed the highest art.
Mr. Lewis Waller exhibited marked nervous force and pathos as Tom
Saxton, and Mr. George Barrett's Dick Bowling, too, was quite a creation,
so homely and natural, and yet so shrewd. A special word of praise is
due to Mr. Austin Melford as Downey Bleater, a smooth, wily old rascal,
and Mr. W. A. Elliott as a more ruffianly scamp was nearly if not quite as
good. Mr. Julian Cross played with judgment, and Mr. Horace Hodges
displayed considerable tact and humour in a difficult part. Mr. H. Cooper
Cliffe was not only gentlemanly, but skilfully conveyed that his evil doings
were the outcome of bad associations. Mr. J. A. Welch's Juniper was a
capital sketch of character, and Mr. S. M. Carson made his one short
scene one of the strongest in the whole afternoon. Miss Webster and
Miss Norreys were happily contrasted, and missed no opportunities that
were afforded them. Miss Harrietta Polini was a smart soubrette as
Peggy ; and though last, certainly not least, Miss Grace Hawthorne was a
true and tender English girl as Jenny Dowling. The entire cast was
excellent, and one and all were frequently called ; a thoroughly deserved
double honour being bestowed on Mr. Wilson Barrett.
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. R
2i8 2 HE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
"THE WEAKER SEX."
Modern Play, in three acts, by A. W. PINERO.
Produced in London at the Court Theatre, March 1C, 1889.
Lord Gillingham . . Mr. A. M. DENISON.
Honble. George Lip- /Mr. E. ALLAN AYNES-
trott
Mr. Bargus, M.P.
Capt. Jessett
Dudley Silchester
Ira Lee
Mr. Hawley Hill
WORTH.
Mr. EDWARD KIGHTON.
Mr. A. B. FRANCIS.
Mr. W. H. VERNON.
Mr. KENDAL.
Mr. M. NEWALL.
Mr. Wade Green . . Mr. ERIC LEWIS.
Spencer Mr. H. DEANE.
Lady Gillingham .. Miss VIOLET VANBRUGH.
Lady Liptrott .. .. Miss PATTY CHAPMAN.
Lady Struddock . . . . Miss E. MATHEW*.
Lady Vivash
Sylvia .
Mrs. Hawley Hill
Mrs. Boyle-Chewton
Rhoda
Miss Cardelloe . .
Petch .
Mrs. KENDAL.
Miss ANNIE HUGHES.
Miss TREVOR BISHOP.
Miss FANNY COLEMTAN.
Miss OLGA BRANDON.
Miss BLANCHE ELLICE.
Miss c. LUCIE.
Mr. Pinero has had a difficulty to encounter in the winding up of his
latest, and certainly one of his best written plays, " The Weaker Sex."
On its original production at the Theatre Royal, Manchester, September 28
of last year, he succumbed to the general but often mistaken desire for
a happy ending by marrying both his heroines ; but now, with a truer
respect to art, he has let his curtain fall on a conclusion that will be very
unsatisfactory to many, for his three principal characters are left unhappy —
and this is the natural outcome. Whether it will affect the fortunes of the
play remains to be proved ; it should not do so, for it is full of interest,
the dialogue is sparkling, and it gives a problem the solution of which
cannot but enforce attention. Lady Vivash in her youth was impulsive
and perhaps coquettish, and has thrown away the love of Philip Lester,
who leaves her and goes to America. Piqued at this she marries Lord
Vivash, for whom she has not a spark of affection, and whose death is
looked upon as a relief from bondage. She treasures the memory of her
former lover, and is comforted in the society of her daughter Sylvia, a
charming girl of seventeen, whose sunny temperament brightens her existence.
To find some occupation and distraction during Sylvia's absence on a visit
abroad, Lady Vivash takes up with a society which has been formed for
enforcing the rights of "the weaker sex," but her interest in their doings
is but pretended, and she is far more stirred when she receives a telegram
announcing the return of Sylvia and her hostess, Lady Gillingham. The
latter, on arrival, tells her that, subject to her approval, Sylvia has accepted
one Ira Lee, a gentleman who is known from his writings as " the poet of
prairies." He is much older than his intended bride, but appears to be
in every other respect eligible. He is to be at Lady Gillingham's the next
day, so it is arranged that Lady Vivash shall meet him there. Ira Lee is
no other than Philip Lester ; perhaps disgusted with his first love, he has
made no inquiries about her, in any case he has no idea that she is Lady
Vivash, the mother of the girl he is now engaged to. No sooner does she
recognise Philip Lester than Lady Vivash, who has heard a rumour that he
had returned to England, and at the thought of which her love, never
extinct, has rekindled with all its first passion, lets him know that she is
free, that she wishes to atone for the past, and that her devotion to him in
the future shall make all amends. Lester is cold, and makes no response
to her avowal ; while she is pleading, Sylvia bounds toward them, and at
once lets her mother know that the man to whom she has just poured out
A.-KII. i, 1889.] OUR* PLAY-BOX. 219
her inmost heart is Ira Lee, her daughter's betrothed. Lady Yivash,
without a word, falls fainting to the ground. The identity of Lester and
Lee is for a time kept from the child, but an envious embittered rival of
hers betrays the secret, and so Lester, feeling that marriage with either
mother or daughter would be impossible, determines to efface himself.
Without any leavetaking he departs to struggle again with his disappointed
hopes, casting one last loving glance on the girl whom he had hoped would
cheer his lonely path — she stunned with the first great grief that had
shadowed her young life, and her mother kneeling crushed and broken at
her feet.
Although the play ends unhappily, and the main interest is centred in
the fortunes of Lady Vivash and her daughter, there is a fund of amuse-
ment and laughter in the proceedings of Mrs. Boyle- Chewton, a leader in
the association for enforcing woman's rights. There is some pungent
satire in the authors method of proving that a creature, who pretends to
be above the weaknesses of the sex and to scorn the idea of love, jumps at
the first offer of marriage made by Mr. Bargus, M.P., in reality for her
daughter Rhoda, but which she mistakenly appropriates to herself, and,
when she thinks herself likely to become a bride, throws committees,
reports, and all such matters to the winds. Mrs. Boyle-Chewton was most
excellently played by Miss Fanny Coleman, whose one little touch of
womanly and bitter disappointment at the frustration of her hopes was
sufficient to stamp the performance ; Mr. Edward Righton was very droll
.as the fussy, nervous little Adonis and M.P. ; and Miss Olga Brandon
played with great tact the poor soured girl Rhoda, all the goodness and
pleasure of whose existence is destroyed by being constantly kept at
uncongenial work. Miss -Violet Vanbrugh looked very handsome, and
was a dashing grande dame as Lady Gillingham, and the old lord to whom
she is married, and whose memory constantly fails him, was an excellent
sketch of character by Mr. A. M. Denison. Mr. Eric Lewis, Mr. E. Allan
Aynesworth, and Miss C. Lucie were also so good in -their several parts
that one wished more was seen of them. Mr. Kendal was of immense
•support to the piece -by his strength and manliness as Ira Lee, one of
those noble souls that can accept the greatest sorrows of this world in a
spirit of determination that they shall not drive them to anything that is base
or weak, but are rather strengthened in the path of duty and self-sacrifice.
Mr. W. H. Vernon, too, as a staunch friend and a faithful though unre-
warded lover, was excellent. Of Mrs. Kendal's acting it is impossible to
speak in too high terms, the nervous excitement when looking forward to
a meeting after so many years with the man whose memory she has
enshrined in her heart of hearts, her desperate pleadings, that if not so
exquisitely rendered would be unwomanly, her utter prostration, and then
the surrender of her own cherished desires to secure the happiness of the
child she so loves, were the perfection of art. Miss Annie Hughes was
very tender and graceful as Sylvia, and in the later scenes thoroughly
conveyed the idea of being crushed and overwhelmed by her terrible
220
THE THEATRE.
[APRIL i, 1889.
awakening from " love's young dream," and yet turned instinctively for
comfort, and to comfort that mother whose future seemed so dark from
the same miserable discovery. When played at Manchester this unhappy
ending was avoided in the reward of Dudley Silchester's lifelong devotion
to Lady Vivash by her acceptance of him and the supposed union of
Sylvia and Ira Lee. This part was then taken by Mr. Vernon, Mr. Kendal
appeared as Silchester. At the Court Theatre the piece is mounted in
the most perfect taste, and the ladies' dresses are exceptionally beautiful.
"KING RICHARD THE THIRD."
Tragedy, by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
Revived at the Globe Theatre, Saturday evening, March 1C, 1
King Henry VI. ..
Mr. ALLEN BEAUMONT. Tressel
Mr. ARTHUR GILMORE.
Prince of Wales . .
Miss BESSIE HATTON. Sir James Tyrell . .
Mr. C. STEUART.
Duke of York . .
Miss ISA BOWMAN. Sir Thomas Vaughan
Mr. EDGAR NORTON.
Duke of Gloster,
Sir Walter Herbert
Mr. C. SMILES.
afterwards King
Sir William Brandon
Mr. E. BROUGHTON.
Richard III.
Mr. RICHARD MANSFIELD. Earl of Pembroke . .
Mr. H. DRUCE.
Duke of Buckingham
Mr. JAMES FERNANDEZ.
Marquis of Dorset . .
Mr. M. BUIST.
Duke of Norfolk ..
Mr. W. R. STAVELEY.
Lord Lovell . .
Mr. L. Du BARRI.
Earl of Richmond . .
Mr. LUIGI LABLACHE.
Bishop of Ely .. ..
Mr. SYDNEY PRICE.
Lord Stanley . .
Mr. D. H. HARKINS.
Abbot
Mr. A. SIMS.
Sir Richard Ratcliffe
Mr. REGINALD STOCKTON.
Wyndham
Mr. F. VIVIAN.
Ear^ of Oxford.. ..
Mr. J. BURROWS.
Court Jester .. ..
Mr. F. W. KNIGHT.
Lord Mayor of Lon-
Oueen Elizabeth .
Miss MARY RORKE.
don
Mr. JOSEPH FRANKAU. Lady Attendants to tl
le Queen
Sir James Blount . .
Mr. LEONARD CALVERT. Miss BURTON, Mis
s LANGTON, Miss OLLIFFK
Sir William Catesby
Mr. NORMAN FORBES. Duchess of York . .
Miss CARLOTTA LECLERCQ.
Earl of Surrey
Mr. J. PARRY. Lady Attendant to
Sir Robert Braken-
the Duchess . .
Mrs. WHITHER CHANDOS.
bury
Mr. MERVYN DALLAS. Margaret Plantage-
Berkeley
Mr. J. G. SLEE. net
Miss E. ORFORD.
Lord Hastings . .
Mr. W. H. CROMPTON. Edward Plantagenet
Miss N. BOWMAN.
Captain of the Guard
Mr. H. WYATT. Lady Anne .. ..
Miss BEATRICE CAMERON.
Priests, Monks, Acolytes, Men-at-Arms, Citizens, Merchants, Pages, Archers, Aldermen.
Children, &c., &c.
PROLOGUE.
The Tower
Scene I.
Scene II.
KING RICHARD THE THIRD."
Act. I.— May, 1471.
The Tower
King Henry's Chamber in the Tower
Act II.— May, 1471.
Scene I. .. The Road to Chertsey
Scene II. . . A Room in Baynard Castle
Act III.— Twelve years elapse, the date of the events in Act III.
Scene I. .. The Hall in Crosby Palace
•Scene II. .. The Same
Bruce Smith.
Bruce Smith.
Bruce Smith.
William Tel bin.
William Telbin.
being A.D. 1483.
E. G. Banks.
E. G. Banks.
Act IV., Part 1.— A.D. 1483.
Scene I. .. Within the Tower E. G. Banks.
Scene II. .. The Presence Chamber (morning) .. E. G. Banks.
Scene III. .. The Presence Chamber (evening) .. .. E. G. Banks.
Act IV., Part 2.— A.D. 1485.
Scene I. „ The Sanctuary E. G. Banks.
Act V.— A.D. 1485.
Scene I. . Bosworth Field William Telbin.
Scene II. . The Country near Tamworth .. .. William Telbin.
Scene III. . The Camp on Bosworth Field .. .. William Telbin.
Scene IV. . A Glade William Telbiu.
Scene V. . The Battlefield William Telbin.
The Overture, Entr'actes, and all the Incidental Music to the Tragedy, composed by
Mr. EDWARD GERMAN.
The perfection to which stage pageant can now be brought was
certainly shown at the Globe Theatre on the first representation there of"
"Richard the Third," but the question arises whether, when in order to
i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 221
accomplish this, some hour and a quarter is consumed in the course of the
evening, the result is not almost too dearly bought. Nothing but praise
can be awarded to the whole of the scenery ; the costumes and armour are
rich and archneologically correct ; the " mimic warfare " a marvel of
realism, more particularly when the size of the stage is taken into con-
sideration; but the performance was not over till past midnight. The
play, as arranged for representation here, is mostly Gibber's version ; it
Commences with a prologue, in which are interpolated passages from
4t Henry VI.," where the order comes from Gloster for his close confinement
in the Tower. The first scene of Act I. shows us a procession with
Elizabeth and her train entering the fortress, and the second scene of this
act is the murder scene from " Henry VI." In Act II. we have most of the
original Shakespeare, and also in the first scene of Act III., though much
condensed. Again we have Gibber in the first part of Act IV., and the
sorrowful parting of the Prince of Wales and Duke of York from Queen
Elizabeth, an interpolation which has been almost universally accepted as
a valuable one ; the close of the act is altered, though not materially, from
Gibber, and the last act is mostly as he arranged it. Unfortunately on
the opening night the pittites had a real or fancied grievance, and there
was much uproar. Their complaint was that on their entering the theatre
they found four people already seated in the front row. The discontented
loudly cried for an " apology ; " the stage-manager came forward, and for
a long time he could not get a hearing ; there was much shouting, but
222 THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
eventually things quieted down, but not without the loss of the overture,
which was inaudible. This unhappy contretemps may have unhinged
Mr. Mansfield, for his opening soliloquy did not impress his audience too
favourably ; but in the second act his conception of the character could
be arrived at. The Duke of Gloster would accomplish his ends not so
much by craft as by sheer force of will ; instead of almost mocking at his
own deformity, it galled him ; and instead of trusting to the oiliness of his
tongue, the counterfeited violence of his passion should win him Lady
Anne. It is said that Mr. Mansfield has never seen the play of " Richard
the Third " acted ; if so, the greater credit is due to him for his, in many
respects, most original reading. His wooing of Lady Anne was almost
too real ; there appeared to be no guile in it, but to be inspired by genuine
admiration. The hypocrisy of his character was finely brought to light
in his interview with the Princes in the Tower, but was a little too
apparent when the Mayor and citizens press on him the crown, though his
exultation at the achievement of his ends after their departure made a
decided point. His scene with Buckingham, when his adherent claimed
his reward in the Earldom of Hereford, was a masterpiece, nor was he less
capable when goaded by the taunts of the Queen and Duchess of York.
The stings of conscience and the uncertainty of his future were most
powerfully conveyed when in the Presence Chamber, where, though just
assured of the murder of the Princes, he meditates on the troubles that
surround him. In the tent scene, where the ghosts of his victims appear
to him in his dream, Mr. Mansfield was raiher hysterical, though the
speech, " Give me another horse," was delivered in a frenzied spirit, and
his doubt whether Catesby was real flesh and blood or one of the visions
that had haunted him was the embodiment of superstitious dread. On
the battlefield of Bos worth the heroism of Richard's character was
eminently displayed beyond mere animal courage. There was the
desperation of the man who had set "life upon a cast," and the actual
fight between Richard and Richmond was no mere child's play or delicate
fence, but a hacking at each other that, should the shield of either by any
chance fail to receive the blow, would probably be very painful to the
unlucky recipient. Taken as a whole, Mr. Mansfield's Richard the
Third is worthy of very high praise ; it is scholarly, and more than
intelligent ; his delivery is excellent, and as his first essay in Shakespearean
character one that has decidedly made its mark. Of the other characters,
Miss Bessie Hatton was most sympathetic and natural as the Prince of
Wales. Miss Isa Bowman was also pleasingly ingenuous as the little
Duke of York. Mr. Allen Beaumont exhibited much kingly dignity and
melancholy pathos as Henry VI. Mr. James Fernandez, for so sareful an
actor, made one or two strange lapses in the text. Mr. Luigi Lablache
was a manly, heroic Richmond. Mr. Norman Forbes did not at all
realise the idea of Catesby, but played it in a jaunty mood. Mr. Arthur
Gilmore was excellent as Tressel. Miss Mary Rorke was most nobly
pathetic as Queen Elizabeth ; Miss Beatrice Cameron was weak as Lady
APRIL i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 223
Anne ; and Miss Carlotta LecTercq, good in every respect as the Duchess
of York, was specially worthy of praise for her admirable delivery of blank
verse.
Though the overture was ^unhappily not heard, there was ample oppor-
tunity of judging later of the incidental music composed by Mr. Edward
German. It was melodious and most appropriate, whether — as suggesting
the motive of the situation — dramatic, tender, religious or martial, and the
orchestration was that of a thorough musician.
Special mention should be made of the solidity of the appearance of the
Tower, and of the exquisite painting of the rest of the scenery, and also
of the admirable manner in which the processions are marshalled and the
battle scenes arranged, exhibiting a perfection of stage-management. The
apparitions, too, are most artistically managed by means of gauzes, and
do seem to be " visitants from the spirit land." Stormily as the evening
had commenced, long before its close the verdict had been pronounced on
the production. Mr. Mansfield had been called and recalled, and on the
final fall of the curtain the enthusiasm was immense, the house resounded
with cheers and applause, and the actor-manager was forced to return
thanks in a few but evidently heartfelt words of gratitude for the reception
accorded to a most effective and superbly mounted piece.
"THE DUKE'S BOAST.5'
A Play, iu three acts, adapted l»y H. OSBORNE BUCKLE, from ALEXAXDKK DOIA>- :- Mademoiselle
de Bellr Isle."
First produced at the Avenue Theatre, Thursday afternoon, 21st Man-li, L889.
Due de Richelieu .. .. Mr. JOHN TRESAHAR.
t'hfvalier D'Aubigny .. Mr. FRED TERRY.
Due D'Aumont .. .. Mr. IVAN WATSON.
Chevalier D'Auvray ..• Mr. E. A. DOUGLAS.
I'hamillac Mr. S. BARRACLOUGH.
Germain Mr. CECIL RAMSEY.
A Lacquais Mr. FRED KI-ITAUX.
The Marquise de Prie . . Miss VAXE.
.Marriette Miss MAY WHITTV.
(iabrielle de Belle Isle.. Miss MAIUOX LEA.
Another version of Alexandre Dumas' famous and most ingeniously
constructed play has been given us by Mr. Buckle, which can hardly be
said to have improved on former adaptations ; indeed, the strength of the
second act has been considerably lost through a desire not to wound the
susceptibilities of the British matron ; the profligate Due de Richelieu,
instead of entering the chamber of Gabrielle, remains in the outer apart-
ment, from the window of which he throws the compromising letter. The
first English version by J. W. Hammond, entitled " A Night in the
Bastille," was played at Drury Lane in 1839, and under the title of "The
Duke's Wager," written by A. R. Slous, it was again seen under the Kean
management at the Princess's in 1851, and three years later at the Hay-
market Mdlle. Beatrice played Gabrielle in Miss Fanny Kemble's adaptation,
known as "Mdlle. de Belle Isle." Mrs. Stirling and Mdlle. Beatrice
made the greatest successes in the character in England, and Mdlles. •
Brohan and Sarah Bernhardt in France, while none have ever approached
Delaunay as the Due de Richelieu. The plot turns on a wager made by
the nobleman that at midnight of the day on which he sees a young
224 THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
lady, he will throw a letter from the window of her chamber. The lady
happens to be Gabrielle de Belle Isle, who is engaged to the Chevalier
D'Aubigny. She has come to Paris to intercede for her father, who is a
prisoner, and has obtained the countenance of the Marquise de Prie, a
favourite of the Due de Bourbon. The great lady, a former flame of
Richelieu, piqued at his infidelity, persuades Gabrielle to write a
letter requesting the Duke to visit her, knowing his strong interest
at Court ; for this the Marquise substitutes one in^. her own handwriting,
which is unknown to the Duke. He comes and throws out the letter which
is to be the proof of his success. It is picked up by D'Aubigny, who
challenges his fancied rival, but the duel being prevented, the Chevalier
makes the Duke throw the dice three times with him, the thrower of the
lowest casts to kill himself. D'Aubigny loses, and is allowed six hours
before committing suicide. He has a final interview with Gabrielle, who,
on the night when the event that incriminates her has taken place, was
actually visiting her father in the Bastille by the aid of the Marquise, who
has bound her to secrecy under certain conditions. Gabrielle cannot,
therefore, clear herself for a time, but at length satisfies her lover of her
innocence, which is further confirmed by Richelieu, who has discovered
the trick that has been played him by the Marquise.
As the Due de Richelieu Mr. John Tresahar lacked that height ot
polish essential to the proper rendering of the character, and which
would redeem the grossness of the roue. Mr. Fred Terry was earnest,
impassioned, and manly as the Chevalier D'Aubigny, and Mr. E. A.
Douglas was firm and consistent as Chevalier D'Auvray. Miss Vane
was eminently the grande dame as the Marquise de Prie, suave and
fascinating, yet clever in wordy fence and finesse, and Miss May Whitty
was a bright and attractive soiibrette. Miss Marion Lea has, by her
representation of Gabrielle de Belle Isle, at once taken her position as,
perhaps, the most promising of our coming emotional actresses. Her
conception of the character was all that could be desired; but, until
the fifth act, it appeared doubtful whether her physical strength was great
enough to adequately convey her ideas — then, however, excellent and
tender as had been her previous performance, the young actress rose to a
grandeur and height of power that electrified her audience. In addition to
other good gifts, Miss Lea is graceful and winning in manner, has an
altogether good method, which, like her accent, gives one the idea that she
has studied in the best French school. The matinee, so far as she was
concerned, was a most decided success.
CECIL HOWARD.
APRIL
1889.]
DAFFODIL
225
Daffodil !
A SPRING SONG.
AVE you forgotten where we met ?
The primrose path, the ruined mill ?
Our trysting-place when sun had set,
And daylight done, my Daffodil !
No fate or time would dare combine
To rob our Springtime of its gold
If I were yours and you were mine,
And both were lovers as of old.
If yestereve could be to-day,
And Life once more a morn in May,
Ah ! then my heart would fill, and thrill
With love awakened, Daffodil !
I call you — and no voice replies.
I wait you, love ! and wait in vain.
The snowdrop fades, the primrose dies,
And, nothing buried, lives again.
A mist enfolds the silent stream,
The leaves fall sadly one by one.
We pass as shadows in a dream,
For we are parted — who were one !
If yestereve could be to-day,
And bring me back one morn in May,
But daylight died behind life's hill,
And closed love's petals ! Daffodil !
March, 1889.
C. S.
225 THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
Herr Meyer Lutz had a bumper house at the " special complimentary
matinee'1 which had been arranged to celebrate the completion of the
twentieth year of his musical directorship of the Gaiety Theatre. Held
in the building which had witnessed so many of the successes which he
had materially helped to achieve, the lengthy programme was gone
through without a hitch. It would take up too much space to enumerate
all the numbers ; suffice it to say that from almost every London theatre
there was some assistance. Mr. Robert Martin wrote and delivered an
address for the occasion, which, as it will doubtless prove interesting, is
given /// extenso : —
" Of all the days that memory brings back
To cheer our way along life's weary track,
Give me the day that friends and comrades meet
A trusted friend and comrade all to greet ;
When side by side we loyally can stand
To take that faithful comrade by the hand ;
When hearts go out, and all along the line
We hear " Good luck for days of auld lang syne."
But when the man for whom the crowd appears
Has served us faithfully for twenty years,
For twenty years has kept Burlesque alive,
When it was down has helped it to revive,
Has given it a life which will be long :
By sparkling melody and charming song —
With such a record has he not a claim ?
To honour him should be our common aim.
Some mark of thanks, however small the token,
Some words, however feeble, should be spoken,
Acknowledging a debt we can't repay,
And that is why we all are here to-day.
For Meyer Lutz that score of years has closed,
But in that time what scores he has composed !
What sparkling music set to sparkling rhymes !
We've heard and cheered his scores some scores of times.
Scoring the music, as we all confess,
Whene'er he plays it, then he scores success.
With all our smartest writers hand-in-hand —
Byron, and Reece, and Gilbert, and Burnand,
Yardley and Stephens, Henry, too, of late,
And Sinls and Pettitt, who are " Up to Date."
This I may add, that all who can, I know,
Who've worked with him both now and long ago
Al'RIL I, 1889.]
OUR OMNIBUS-BOX.
221
(And those who have, a friend have always found him),
Are proud to-day to come and stand around him.
Of those who are unable to appear,
There's one I know would, if she could, be lu-iv.
As in the days long past, 'twould be her pride,
To stami to-day by Meyer Lutz's side.
Yes, Nellie Farren, take the fact from me,
Stretches to Lutz her " Hands Across the Sea."
Time beats us all at last, a fact unpleasant,
But Meyer Lutz, we know, beats time at present.
Long may he do so, long may he live to tell
That friends in front, and on the stage 3s well,
They all are proud and happy to be here,
And wish him luck for many and many a year.
Come, join with me, let none of us be mutes,
All up ! three cheers for dear old Meyer Lut/ ! "
The whole concluded with the trial scene from " Pickwick "— " Bardell v.
Pickwick." The cast was such an extraordinary one that, as a matter of
record, it should be preserved : —
Mr. Justice Stareleigh Mr. ARTHUR EGBERTS.
Sergeant Buzfuz. . Mr. JAMES FERN AMU:/..
Mr. Pickwick . . Mr. EDWARD RIGHTON.
Mr. Tnpnian . . Mr. GEORGE BARRETT.
Mr. Snodgrass . . Mr. HARRY MONKHousE.
M i . \Vinkle Mr. ROBERT SOUTAR.
Sam Weller Mr. ARTHUR WILLIAMS.
( tld Weller Mr. W. LESTOCQ.
Mr. Perker Mr. J. J. DALLAS.
Lowten . Mr. CHARLES OOLLETTE.
Mr. Dodson Mr. E. HASLEM.
Jurors :— Messrs. G. Jacobi, Herve, Ivan Can 11, W.
Ball, Sydney Naylor, E. Solomon, H.
Barrett, J. Bayliss, A. Gwyllam Crowe,
Mr. Fogg . .
Usher . .
Mr. skimpin
Mr. Snubbins
Master Bardell
Associate
Associate's Clerk
Mrs. Bardell
Mrs. Sanders
Mrs. Cluppins
Foreman
Mr. C. WAT.KER.
Mr. ALFRED MALTBV.
Mi. K. J. ODELL.
Ml. T..M SnUIRK.
Mr. CHARLES Ross.
Mr. FRANK \\YATT.
Mr. E. W. GAUDIXKI:.
MissSALLlE Ti'RNEi:.
MifS L. DELl'HINE.
Mrs. H. LKHiH.
Herr MEYER LUT/.
Slaughter, Andrew Levey, F. Stanislaus, Meredith
Con-i, jun., .1. Fitzgerald, John Cro"U
E. C. Gallico.
Herr Lutz made the neatest of speeches — modest and grateful; and though
he mentioned Lord Londesborough and Mr. Alfred de Rothschild, who
had kindly acted as president and vice-president of the committee, he did
not fcrget his old friends and associates John Hollingshead, Robert
Soutar, Robert Barker, Charles Harris, Talbot Smith, and F. J. Potter, and
his many professional brothers and sisters who had given such willing
help. The afternoon was a most enjoyable one, and the pecuniary result
was no doubt most satisfactory, though the amount was on one little
slip of paper contained in the pocket-book handed to Herr Lutz as a
soiiTenir of the occasion.
"A Platonic Attachment/' Mr. Eden Philpotts' "modern comedy,"
showed considerable novelty and ingenuity, and contained some very
smart dialogue, but it is not quite strong enough for three acts. Much
of the fun is deduced from a gentleman who uses shorthand freely, but not
being a proficient in the science misreads his notes and turns up at a
wedding attired for a funeral, and at a dinner party costumed for a
fancy ball. The new wonder, the phonograph, is also introduced. Messrs.
Walter and Arthur Helmore, Bartley Meadows, and Misses Hepworth
Hay don and Edith Meadows acted remarkably well.
228 THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
On March 7 the first of several matinees of " Two Roses" was given at the
Criterion Theatre, when Mr. Charles Wyndham appeared as Jack Wyatt,
and save that he made him rather too staid, and showed less of the
impulsiveness of youth than we generally associate with the character, the
performance was a good one. The " Roses " were represented by Miss
Fanny and Miss Mary Moore ; the former was excellent as Ida, but the
latter as Lottie played in rather too low a key, though she was very sweet
and lovable. Mr. Edward Righton was suffering from a severe eold on
the first occasion, but despite of that was full of genial humour as Our
Mr. Jenkins. The rest of the cast was the same as when the piece was
lately revived for a run at this theatre. The matinees were played to
crowded houses.
During the past month the Grand Theatre, Islington, has thoroughly
maintained its character for always providing good entertainment. " The
Armada," which was reproduced here for a fortnight, was nearly as
possible as effectively staged as at Drury Lane, allowing for the difference
in the size of the houses. Miss Maud Milton, who appeared as Sybil
Tilney (the original of " Fame," now represented by Miss Florence
Marryatt), fairly brought down the house, and Miss Alexes Leighton was
very bright and pleasing as Cicely. "The Armada" was followed by
Henry Petti tt's "Hands Across the Sea," which, in its turn, gave place to
"The Bells of Haslemere," and all three pieces were played to crowded
and enthusiastic audiences.
A very brightly-written little "ball-room sketch," by Neville Doone,
entitled " During the Dance," was tried at the St. Andrew's Hall, and will
prove most useful to amateurs or for drawing-room representation. A
young lady is taken by her partner to the conservatory, where, overcome
by the heat, she faints ; as she comes to, thanks to the attentions of her
cavalier, she lets slip how she loves him ; he seizes the occasion and is at
once accepted. But as their engagement may not be at present quite
agreeable to her mamma, who is seen approaching, the young people have
to resume a very formal and nonchalant air to each other and resume the
interrupted dance. The trifle was excellently played by Mrs. C. L. Carson
and Mr. Bassett Roe ; this gentleman also appearing to advantage as Guy
Charlton in Ernest Warren's very clever little comedietta "The Nettle," in
which Miss Violet Vanbrugh looked very pretty and played charmingly as
Dulcie Meredith. The programme was arranged and the entertainment
given by Mrs. Charles Warner, in aid of St. Patrick's Schools, Soho.
In the first of the two March numbers of the " Revue d'Art Dramatique "
M. J. T. Grein has an article, in which he gives his opinion that melo-
drama is in a moribund state in England. In support of his assertion he
APR.L i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 229
H»
states that, though such pieces as " The Silver Falls " and " Good Old
Times " are playing to crowded houses, the large audiences are really made
up of the unthinking masses, but that the intelligent regret with him the
manner in which clever authors, like Sims, Pettitt, Wilson Barrett, and
Hall Caine, are compelled to sacrifice good work to the exigencies of the
costumier, the scene painter, scenic display, and " situation." M. Grein
pays high tribute to Mr. Pinero, whom he calls " the English Labiche," and
looks on Mr. Jerome and Mr. Haddon Chambers as the coming authors.
In the same number there is an interesting account of an interview with
Mme. Segond-Weber, and the methods adopted by her to enable her to fill
with such success the role of Lady Macbeth at the Odeon Theatre. In the
number of March 15 there is a clever comparison as to the relative merits
of French and English actors ; the article illustrates the various points
in which the one or the other is the more successful, and the reasons there-
for ; also that except in Shakespeare few of our countrymen can properly
deliver blank verse. A review by M. Jacques Ballien -of M. Alphonse
Cilliere's work on the Turkish Theatre is worthy of notice, and an account
of the great Talma's appearances in London will be found interesting.
Mr. C. H. Fox, the well-known — it might almost be said famous — wig
maker, of Russell Street, Covent Garden, has just published his " Dramatic
and Musical Directory of the United Kingdom" for 1889. It will be
found to be wonderfully complete, giving full information as to some 2,500
theatres and 3,000. public halls, in which the wearers of the sock and
buskin can pitch their tents, and also gives the addresses of 3,000 lodgings
and 2,000 hotels, where they can rest them after their labours. Besides
this, there will be found all sorts of intelligence as to newspapers, bill
posters, printers ; lists of authors and composers, actors and actresses, scene
painters, &c., in fact of almost every class directly and indirectly connected
with the stage or the music halls. It also contains a most useful " fare-table,
arranged on the square system, showing at a glance the amount of the
fare between any two of the principal theatrical towns." How Mr. Fox
has found time to superintend the issue of such a work is rather a mystery,
for his hands are always full, and his head must be well worked to keep in
mind the calls of the Macbeth wigs at the Lyceum, the fresh demands
from Miss Anderson from America, the wants of his numerous "private
theatrical " clients, and his countless professional ones.
Accounts from New York have come to hand, which, I am sorry to
say, give very bad news of Miss Mary Anderson ; this talented actress
has overtaxed her powers to such an extent that complete rest has been
peremptorily insisted on by her medical advisers, and all her engagements
have been cancelled for the remainder of the season. I sincerely trust
that this enforced abstinence from work will quickly bring about complete
recovery of both mind and body. Miss Anderson's company, it is said,
is to return to England.
23o THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
A new "fortnightly review of art," to be known as "Comedy," has just
appeared. It notices the principal London productions, and pays particular
attention to Parisian and Dutch pieces. It has an article on " Saturday
Night Audiences," by W. Moy Thomas, and " A Glimpse of the English
Stage by a Foreigner," from the pen of Felix Remo, besides touching on
other matters of interest. M. J. T. Greiri is the editor. His programme
is a promising one, and " Comedy " is published at one penny by Messrs,
dee and Co., 34, Moorgate Street.
An explanation should have appeared in the March number of THE
THEATRE as to the "Betsy" group which was shown in February. It
certainly did not do justice to the original photograph by Barraud, which was
a most admirable and artistic one, and the reproduction was not intended
to appear at all, but by an unlucky error was bound in the number.
Fortunately the high quality of Mr. Barraud's work is too well known to be
affected by such a mistake. While on the subject, I may call attention to
the excellent photographs of Mr. Charles Wyndham and Miss Mary Moore
in "Still Waters Run Deep;" and to the first volume of "Men and
Women of the Day," which should be on every drawing-room table. The
March number of this publication contains fine pictures and useful
biographies of the Duke of Devonshire, Madame Norman-Neruda and Sir
Charles Halle. All these, emanating from Mr. Barraud's studio, are perfect
examples of photographic art.
" Musical Notes," by Hermann Klein (Novello, Ewer, and Co., London
and New York). The third issue of this most useful work will be found
to contain a record of important musical events of the past year. The
author displays sound critical ability, and treats his subject in a most
readable manner, peculiarly free from that pedantry too often met with in
works of this class. The book is very neatly got up, and will prove
invaluable as one of reference.
"Dramatic Notes," by Cecil Howard (Strand Publishing Company).
This, the tenth issue, comprises all the London theatrical productions,
with full plot and cast of the more important plays and revivals, and has
also a list of plays first produced in the provinces, Paris, and New York
during the year 1888. The index, carefully compiled, makes reference to
any event or person particularly easy.
Mr. Charles Salaman, the well-known and able musician, completed his
75th year on March 3, 1889, and has just composed a very charming song,
" Heart to Heart," for tenor or baritone. It is dedicated to his " dear
friend Jessie Bond," and the words, by Malcolm C. Salaman, are worthy of
the music. It is published by Novello, Ewer, and Co.
A.RII i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 231
*•£
Miss Olga Nethersole made her professional debut at the Theatre Royal,
Brighton, March 5, 1887, as Lettice Venne, in "Harvest," with Mr. Charles
Hawtrey's company; and, after touring for some time with it, joined Mr.
and Mrs. Arthur Dacre in the following August, playing Alice Pengelly in
" Our Joan," Blanche Maitland in " 'Twixt Kith and Kin," and Claire in
"The Double Marriage." Miss Nethersole next entered Mr. Willie
Edouin's provincial company to play Agatha in " Modern Wives," and was
then engaged by the Messrs. Gatti for the character of Ruth in Messrs.
Pettitt and Grundy's drama, " Union Jack," at the Adelphi, a part the
talented young actress was compelled to relinquish to fulfil her engagement
with Mr. Rutland Barrington at the St. James's, and there create the part
of Miriam St. Aubyn in " The Dean's Daughter." On the withdrawal of
this piece, Miss Nethersole returned to the Adelphi for a fresh creation,
that of Lola in "The Silver Falls," by Messrs. Sims and Pettitt, and
remains at this theatre till September, by permission of Mr. John Hare,
whose company she will then join at the new Garrick under an engagement
for two seasons. These, with the exception of appearing at two matinees, as
Nelly Busby in " The Paper Chase " at the Strand, and as Elaine in " Only
a Dream" at the Criterion, comprise the whole of Miss Nethersole's
theatrical record, and yet, in the short space of two years, she has risen to
a near approach to taking the very front rank in her profession.
Mr. E. D. Ward was born February n, 1856, and was intended for com-
mercial pursuits, but, having taken a liking to the stage, he determined to
adopt it, and made his first appearance on the boards at the Theatre
Royal, Glasgow, June 26, 1876, as the Hon. Charles Ewart in "False
Shame," under the management of Messrs. Pitt and Hamilton, and whilst
belonging to their company gained considerable experience by filling such
parts as Charles Courtly in " London Assurance," Joseph Surface in " The
School for Scandal," Young Marlow in " She Stoops to Conquer," and was
the original provincial Vladimir in " The Danischeffs." Mr. Ward's next
engagement was with Craven Robertson's " Caste " company, and he then
played the round of Robertsonian characters, D'Alroy in " Caste," Lord
Beaufoy in " School," Angus MacAllister in " Ours," and on Mr. Craven
Robertson's death took up all his parts. Mr. Ward next toured for forty-
two weeks with " Diplomacy," playing Count OrlorT, and subsequently re-
joined the "Caste" company under Mr. Tom Robertson's management. An
engagement with Mr. J. L. Toole followed, and the subject of our photograph
made his first appearance in London, December 26, 1879, as Augustus
Vere in "Married in Haste," and during the many years he was a
member of Mr. Toole's company acted in almost every piece produced at
the little house in King William Street. Mr. Ward left this company in
June, 1887, to fulfil an engagement at Wallack's Theatre, New York, and
returned to London in June of last year, and reappeared at Toole's
Theatre as Captain Kirby in "The Paper Chase," under Mr. Lionel
232 THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
Brough's management. From thence Mr. Ward went to the Gaiety, and
played Count Danella in " Marina," and subsequently migrated to the Opera
Comique, where he made a most decided hit as Cadrillo in " Carina." tie
is now engaged at the Avenue to fill the role of the Margrave in "Nadgy,"
a performance full of humour and point.
The Philo-Thespian Club is well known as one of our best amateur
dramatic institutions. It has given to the stage such artists as Mr. and
Mrs. Beerbohm Tree, Mr. Hayden Coffin, and many another well known
to fame. It now continues its good work by giving some of the best
amateur dramatic performances which can be seen. At St. George's
Hall, on Tuesday, March 19, was given the io6th performance of the
Philo-Thespian Club. The programme was an ambitious one, but it was
thoroughly well carried out, and the acting far superior to what one
generally sees at institutions of this nature. The performance commenced
with a representation of the touching drama from the French by old
Benjamin Webster, called "One Touch of Nature." Mr. H. A. Stacke,
one of the prominent members of the club, took the arduous character of
Mr. William Penholder, created, as most old playgoers know, by Benjamin
Webster. It was a most touching and faithful representation of the
pathetic old man, and had Miss Ethel Williams entered into the spirit of the
play as well as Mr. Stacke, the result would have been even better than
it was. The piece of the evening was Mr. Gilbert's comedy, " Engaged,"
a very difficult task for amateurs to undertake ; but, on the whole,
it was very brilliantly performed. We have never in our experience
seen the part of Cheviot Hill so well read and understood as
it was by Mr. Frederick Upton, President of the Philo-Thespian
Club. This gentleman has a keen sense of humour, a dry and
decisive manner; and not even by George Honey, who originally
created the part, has the character been so well, read, it evidently,
as far as one can judge, being in accordance with the intention of the
author. When Mr. Upton is more ready with his words, and can take the
whole play along with him at lightning pace, he will be able to play Cheviot
Hill so that it may be very favourably compared with any previous perform-
ance of the kind. It must be remembered that unless the words of this difficult
part are glibly given, and unless the main character be made the pivot of the
whole play on which the other characters stand or fall, there must be a
certain slowness in the general performance. With a little more practice
and studious endeavour to commit the words faithfully to memory, Mr.
Upton will be able to lead his clever companions even to a still greater
success. The character of Bellvawnay was very cleverly taken by Mr.
Gordon Taylor, who, though a romantic actor, has a keen sense of humour,
and the little Scotch lassie Maggie was delightfully rendered by Miss
Eleanor Rothsay, who is a charming comedian, and quite fit to take her
place on the regular stage. One of the most brilliant performances in the
APRIL i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 233
play, however, was the Belinda Treherne of Miss Margaret Brandon, one
of the very best actresses now on the amateur stage. This clever lady has
a splendid method of elocution, a handsome presence, and not even by
Miss Marion Terry has the difficult part of Belinda been so well understood
or so effectively rendered. We have also to mention in terms of sincere
praise the Minnie of Miss Inez Roe, a lady with a quaint sense of fun ; the
Simpson of Mr. F. Sherbrooke, and the Angus McAllister of Mr. W. E.
Montgommery. In fact, the whole play was very ably rendered, and if it
could only have been taken at a quicker pace, no fault could have been
possibly found with it.
After the dramatic performance of the Philo-Thespian Club, a supper
was given at St. George's Hall, to which several distinguished guests were
invited. Amongst these were found Mr. George Grossmith, Miss Lucile
Saunders, Miss Adele Myers, Mr. Hayden Coffin, and several gentlemen
well known in the literary and artistic world. The occasion was a
memorable one, for a presentation of a gold watch and chain was made to
the popular president, Mr. Frederick Upton, after a touching speech
detailing his merits, by Mr. Canning, the late president of the Society.
Mr. Upton's presidential address, written by him in very clever rhymed
couplets, caused a great deal of honest amusement. After Mr. Stacke had
proposed the health of the visitors, to which Mr. George Grossmith replied
in courteous and proper terms, there was a very charming concert given, in
which many of the guests and visitors assisted. On this occasion a new
and very charming song, written by Miss Margaret Brandon, called " The
Willow Leaf," was sung sweetly and sympathetically by Miss Adele Myers,
and was loudly applauded. It is a gem of a ballad, with a lovely refrain,
and is likely to be very popular in musical society. Miss Lucile Saunders
sang De Lara's " Garden of Sleep," and also Miss Hope Temple's " Sweet
September," while Mr. Hayden Coffin, who was in excellent voice, sang
song after song to the delight of every one assembled. In fact, it was a
very charming and delightful evening, and one long to be remembered by
those who had the privilege of receiving an invitation.
On March 4 there passed away one on whom had fallen the mantle of
his preceptor, Joe Grimaldi, and who for some thirty-six years was looked
upon as the best of our clowns. Mr. Tom Matthews was born October 1 7,
1805, and was consequently in his eighty-fourth year when he died, and,
though he had been bedridden for some months, he retained his faculties to
the time of his decease at Brighton, where he was affectionately cared for by
his daughter, Madame Clara Lawrence. Mr. Tom Matthews was early in
life connected with the " Independent Whig," a newspaper that, after
various changes of nomenclature, was and is now known as the " Sunday
Times." After a short engagement at the Olympic he made his first
appearance as a clown in 1829 in "The Hag of the Forest Raven," and
left the stage in 1865, his last character being that of Daddy Thumb in
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. S
234 THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
" Hop o' my Thumb, or Harlequin and the Ogre of the Seven-League
Boots." Mr. Tom Matthews was buried in Brighton Cemetery on March 9-
The account of the sad end of Mr. Charles Du Val, which reached
London on March 5, was a great shock to his many friends in England,
who, knowing that he was on his return, were preparing to give him the
heartiest reception. It appears that Mr. Du Val was suffering from the
effects of a sunstroke, which had made him very despondent. On the
morning of February 23, at about two o'clock, he suddenly rushed from
his cabin up on to the deck and disappeared. There is no doubt that he
sprang overboard, but the ship was going at a high rate of speed, and there
was a heavy sea on, so that it was impossible to make a search for the
body. It is strange that this should have occurred in the "Red Sea,''
which, it will be remembered, he used to make the subject of one of his
jokes in his entertainment. Mr. Du. Val possessed high gifts, both as a
journalist and an entertainer, but will live longest in the memories of those
who knew him from his kindliness of heart, his upright character, and his
many estimable qualities.
The Hermits Dramatic Club gave a performance at the Royal Park
Hall, Regent's Park, on Thursday, February 21, 1889. The programme
was made up of "The Porter's Knot," "My Wife's Dentist," and a "new
and original romantic play " in one act, by A. Houghton Townley (the son
of the well-known journalist), who appears likely to outstrip his father,
if the younger dramatist continue to improve as he has since his pro-
duction of "Tootsie." Though possessing but a simple plot — for "Love
Conquers ; or, No Spy " only tells of the unjust suspicion brought upon
Flora Osborne of being courted by another admirer, she at the time having
given her promise to Prince Rupert, the suspected admirer proving to
be no other than her Roundhead brother Osborne — the little play is
interesting, and the lines — for it is in blank verse — are very smooth and
breathe a spirit of poetry. Miss Lily Mitchell, as Flora, delivered them
fairly well, and there was some chivalry in Mr. Alfred Stalman as Prince
Rupert ; but he, Mr. S. Mackaness, and Mr. Tom Blacklock respectively
distinguished themselves more in the late John Oxenford's piece as
Augustus Burr, Captain Oakham, and Samson Burr.
The Italian Hospital being much in want of funds, a dramatic entertain-
ment was arranged for and given at the Queen's Gate Hall, on Feb. 27.
Miss Heloise Durant produced on the occasion two new pieces of
her own writing. The first, a comedietta entitled " Our Family Motto ; or,
Noblesse Oblige," may be dismissed in a few words. The heartlessness of
the heroine, Mrs. Newton, who encourages the attention of a couple of
admirers, she the while being in doubt whether her husband is alive or
A.RM. i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 235
*5«
dead, robs the play of all sympathy, though it must be admitted that some
of the dialogue was clever, and that the part was well filled by Miss
Grace Arnold. There was, however, real merit in " Un Heros de la
Vende'e," in which the authoress played Henriette de Bressant remarkably
well. She has to pass herself off as her brother, a Royalist, who is actively
pursued by the Republicans, and by her clever ruse and assumption of
the male character gives him the opportunity to escape; in the mean-
while her lover, Isidore Delaunay, exercising his influence to obtain his
pardon. Miss Durant must possess a thorough knowledge of French
idiom; the language was good and the repartee crisp and sparkling.
Valuable assistance was rendered by Mr. C. Leveson Lane and M. Eugene
Mayeur. During the interlude Mrs. Godfrey Pearse and Madame Edith
Wynne sang very charmingly. Mr. Reginald Thornhill played the banjo
capitally, and Mr. Walter Helmore gave some very humorous recitations.
"The Policeman," "a three-act farcical rally," by Walter Helmore and
Eden Philpotts, played at a matinee at Terry's Theatre, November i of
last year, was reproduced at the same theatre on the afternoon of Tuesday,
March 5. The piece was commented on in the December number of
THE THEATRE, and it must with regret be admitted that, on seeing it a
second time, only the same conclusion is to be arrived at — though laugh-
able, it is too thin for three acts. Messrs. Forbes Dawson, Arthur
Williams, Sam Whitaker, Compton Coutts, and H. Halley were as
excellent as on the previous representation, and Miss Gabrielle Goldney
and Miss Lilian Millward were even better than before, but the other
changes in the cast were not advantageous. The piece might go well in the
provinces. To make up the programme there was a very clever "Lecture
on Music," entitled " How to Please the Musical Ear, and How not to do
so," which was most humorously delivered by Messrs. Walter and Arthur
Helmore and Mr. Randolph Coward. With an assumption of the most
profound gravity, they indulged the audience with some most ridiculous
nonsense that caused roars of laughter, and in the course of which they
sang the alphabet, impersonated society singers, imitated the bagpipes and
the itinerant street vocalist, produced strange but amusing music from the
nursery instrument, a comb with paper stretched over it, and finished
with a burlesque tragic operatic scene. This whimsical musical melange
will no doubt be heard of again, and, as it lasts about half an hour, is just
suited for entertainments given in the houses of the "upper ten."
" See-Saw," a domestic comedy, by George Capel and J. Ragland
Phillips, was produced at a matinee at Terry's Theatre on February 22,
1 889, and though from the cleverness of the acting it caused a good deal
of laughter, the play itself is really little better than a farce in three acts
which could have better been done in one. The heroine, Ethel Bartlett,
236 THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
is the daughter of a " purveyor of baked potatoes," but is fortunate in
possessing an exquisite singing voice, which has been thoroughly trained
by an old German musician, Herr Stegmeyer. Through his influence she
obtains an engagement and rapidly becomes a prima donna. She attracts
the honourable attentions of Gerald Clayton, a rich young fellow, who
proposes marriage, and things seem to be going all fairly, when she is led
to believe that her brother Dick, who has got into bad company, has
stolen from her lover's house a locket that Dick has sold her. She will
not allow Gerald to marry intc a family that has such a stain upon it, and
therefore releases him from his engagement. Her father, a hasty and
obstinate old fellow who has quarrelled with his son, thinks that Gerald
has trifled with his girl's affections, and uses some strong language on the
subject. In the third act Ethel has lost her voice, and the family are
back in their old quarters in Drury Lane. Through the kindly instru
mentality of a good-natured journalist, Jack Graham, Dick has obtained a
situation and has turned a steady young fellow, and the real purloiner of
the locket is discovered ; the lovers are brought together again, and Dick
looks forward to marrying Fanny, an outspoken, honest-hearted girl, who
has believed in him and loved him through good and evil report. Mr.
W. F. Hawtrey played very naturally the character part of Sam Bartlett, and
his rackety son Dick found a good exponent in Mr. A. G. Andrews. Mr.
Julian was a genial, simple creature as the enthusiastic old violinist, Herr
Stegmeyer, who confides all his joys and sorrows to his beloved instru-
ment, and Mr. W. Har greaves made much of the small part of Crupper, a
butler who has lived in aristocratic families, and whose supercilious airs
the plebeian pere Bartlett so much resents. Mr. E. Smedley Yates conveyed
well the kindly cynicism of the journalist Graham; but Mr. Fred Terry
was rather stiff and precise as the lover Gerald Clayton. Miss Eleanore
Leyshon (whose debut in " Midnight ; or, the Wood-carver of Bruges," at
the Princess's, on May 24 of last year, was so favourably noticed at the
time, and who has since played at the St. James's) was most unaffected and
sympathetic as Ethel Bartlett, and won golden opinions both for her
appearance and acting, while Miss Hermon, whose rendering of Lilian
Trevor in " A Patron Saint " exhibited such delicacy and tact, surprised
everyone by her breadth of humour as Fanny Smith.
We have become so accustomed to look for something light and
humorous at the German Reed's Entertainment at St. George's Hall, that
it seems quite like changing the order of things when a vaudeville that has
in it much of pathos and even melodrama is produced. " Brittany Folk,"
written by Mr. Walter Frith, has quite a stirring plot, if not a very original
one. The scene takes place in the interior of a snug farmhouse, belonging
to Ninorch, the happy possessor of the land surrounding it, which is known
a? L'Epine Blanche, at Perros, Finisterre, Brittany. With Ninorch lives
Margaridd, her foster sister, and preparations are being made for the
APRIL i, 1889.]
OUR Q.MNIB US-BOX.
237
latter's betrothal with Riwal. A lover of the angle, and one who likes to
saunter through life, the Hon. Tom Kingsbench, a well-to-do but non-
practising barrister, is also an inmate, he making a practice of visiting the
place every year. Ninorch is much disturbed by an anonymous letter,
which she has received, telling her that the possessions she has inherited
on her brother's death are to be taken from her. Presently arrives Tonyk,
a sailor, the writer of the letter, who sets up his claim, which he says he
can substantiate, by certain documents that go to prove that the farm was
sold to him by the late proprietor. He consents, however, not to press
his rights if Margaridd will marry him. To Kingsbench, as an old friend,
Ninorch flies for counsel, and he advises that she should temporise
with Tonyk, who is presently made much of by all, even Riwal pre-
tending to become quite friendly, and taking him out to join in
the dancing and cider drinking going on in the square. When
they return Tonyk has taken more than is good for him, and is
drowsy. He has a nap before the fire, and during his sleep the papers are
abstracted from his cap, wherein he has placed them for safety, and Kings-
bench, on examination, discovers them to be clumsy forgeries. Though
Tonyk might be punished, the women whom he has tried to wrong plead
for him, and he is allowed to go scot free, it being even promised that
something shall be found wherewith to start him in life. Miss Fanny
Holland, as the charming Ninorch ; Miss Kate Tully, as the bewitching,
true-hearted Margaridd ; and Mr. Ernest Laris, as a stalwart, long-haired
Breton, played their parts excellently, while Mr. Walter Browne showed
well as the truculent Tonyk, and Mr. Alfred German Reed was the per-
fection of a shrewd, lazy, good-humoured man as the barrister. Mr. Alfred
J. Caldicott has composed for them some exquisite music, which is
characteristic of the supposed surroundings. Of the numbers there are two
quintets, a delightful duet, " Then hey for the soup," for Ninorch and
Kingsbench, and a lovely ballad, " Mothers and Wives of Croisie town," for
Margaridd, which were specially encored. The orchestration too is worthy
of great praise. Mr. Corney Grain's sketch, " A Day's Sport," is as provo-
cative of laughter as his sketches usually are, so racy and amusing is the
description of his troubles and misadventures, but there is one song which
is so pathetic, both in sentiment and in the perfect rendering, as to draw
tears from many, a power which would hardly have been credited to this
favourite humourist.
" The Silver Falls " continues to bring in so much gold that there is no
occasion to think of change at the Adelphi. The Alhambra promises us
shortly a wonderful ballet, which, if possible, is to surpass anything we
have yet seen. " Nadgy " continues to draw at the Avenue (which theatre,
by-the-by, Mr. H. Watkin has not the slightest intention of relinquishing, as
has been reported), but the next comic opera, at or about Easter, will be
written by Richard-Henry—title, " Launcelot the Lovely," taken from the
238 THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
' Idylls of the King." " Merry Margate," Mr. Sydney Grundy's new play,
to be produced March 27, too late for notice this month, it is said has a
capital part for Mr. W. S. Penley. "Still Waters Run Deep" and Wed-
nesday matinees of "Two Roses" fill Mr. Wyndham's coffers at the
Criterion. Old Drury is still daily and nightly crammed with enthusiastic
admirers of the " Babes in the Wood." The cast of " The Merry Wives of
Windsor," at the Haymarket, has been even strengthened by the return of Miss
Lingard, and draws crowded houses, as does " Macbeth " at the Lyceum.
" Dorothy " is at last nearing to its close at the Lyric, and we are looking
forward to Messrs. Stephenson and Cellier's new opera. "The Panel
Picture," at the Opera Comique, must be treated on next month. The
matinees here of "Little Lord Fauntleroy" have proved great successes.
"Paul Jones" continues to fascinate at the Prince of Wales's. The
Vaudeville fills nightly with " That Doctor Cupid," in which Miss Annie
Irish is now playing most charmingly Miss Winifred Emery's late part; and
at Terry's "Sweet Lavender" reached its 37ist representation on
March 22, in honour of which Mr. Terry presented each of the audience
with a delicate sachet of lavender silk containing "sweet lavender."
Of music, Mr. Joseph Williams, of Berners Street, has forwarded songs,
"Silver Lilies," words by F. E. Weatherby, music by T. L. Roeckel;
"Little People," written by Walter .Parke, composed by L. Barone; sets
of valses, "Midnight Dreams," and the "British Army Polka," by Henry
Klussmann ; a Schottische " Don't Tease," by Ezra Read ; " The Royal
Standard Bearer," grand march by Michael Watson; four sonatinas for
piano by Henri Roubier, and Benjamin Godard's Etudes four piano^
" Des Ailes" all of which are worthy of attention. Whilst on the subject
of music it may be mentioned how Miss Margaret Brandon has in a few
short months rapidly come to the front ; her melodious songs are now in
great request. Since the successful valse song, " Could but the World
Stand Still," encored nightly at the Gaiety, Miss Brandon has written
"The Willow Leaf" for Miss Adele Myers, and "Kiss me Good Night"
for Mr. Courtice Pounds, the Savoy tenor.
Notices of "Young Mrs. Winthrop" at Terry's on March 26, in which
Miss Kinharvie makes her appearance, and of George Danville Fenn's
"Her Ladyship," at the Strand, March 27, both matinees, must be held
over till the next number. We are to have John Strange Winter's three
act play at the Vaudeville on the afternoon of April 2 ; and I am delighted
to hear that Mr. J. L. Toole will reopen his theatre at Easter. Mr. Toole
is at present in the Riviera in good health, and gradually recovering from
the severe domestic affliction from which he has suffered, and under which
:he has had the earnest sympathy of every one.
APRIL i, 1889.1 OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 230
^
The Beaufort Club gave one of its delightful smoking concerts on
Saturday evening, March 23, which was honoured by the presence of
Prince Albert Victor. The Duke of Beaufort took the chair at ten o'clock,
and from that time till an early hour next morning the entertainment was
kept up in a most spirited manner. Mr. Cunningham Bridgman had
secured the kindly assistance of Mr. Nachez, Herr Schonberger, Mr. A.
Brousil, and of Messrs. Maybrick, Bantock Pierpoint, Ben Davies, Rut-
land Barrington, Courtice Pounds, George Grossmith, Alec Marsh, Arthur
Roberts, Lionel Brough, Charles Coborn, &c., who one and all contributed
to the enjoyment of the numerous guests. The supper was, as usual,
perfect, and a universal theme of praise.
New plays produced, and important revivals, in London from February 18
to March 21, 1889 :—
(Revivals are marked thus *)
Feb. 21. "Love Conquers; or, No Spy," play, in one act, by A.
Houghton Townley. Park Hall, Camden Town.
„ 22. "See-Saw," domestic comedy, in three acts, by George Capel
'and J. Ragland Phillips. Matinee. Terry's.
„ 22. " During the Dance," "ball-room sketch," by Neville Doone.
St. Andrew's Hall, Newman Street.
„ 27. "Our Family Motto; or, Noblesse Oblige," comedietta, by
Heloise Durant. Queen's Gate Hall.
„ 27. "Un Heros de la Vendee," un acte, par Heloise Durant.
Queen's Gate Hall.
„ 28. "Nowadays," "a tale of the turf," in four acts, by Wilson
Barrett. Matine'e. Princess's.
Mar. i. "Les Femmes Nerveuses," comedy, in three acts, by MM.
Ernest Blum and Raoul Toche'. French plays. Royalty.
„ 5.* "The Policeman," farcical rally, in three acts, by Walter
Helmore and Eden Philpotts. Matine'e. Terry's.
„ 9.* " Never Despair," romantic drama, in a prologue and four acts,
by George Comer. (First produced, Gaiety, Halifax, May 5,
1887.) Sadler's Wells.
„ 12. "The Water Babes," burlesque, by Edward W. Bowles (Folly
Dramatic Club). St. George's Hall.
„ 1 6.* " King Richard the Third," Shakespeare's tragedy. Globe
Theatre.
„ 16.* " The Weaker Sex," comedy, in three acts, by A. W. Pinero.
(First produced, T.R. Manchester, September 28, 1888.)
Court Theatre.
„ 1 6. " Plucky Nancy," one act play, by C. Thompson and K. Sinclair,
Kilburn Town Hall.
„ 19. "The Bookmaker," comedy, in three acts, by J. W. Pfgott.
Matinee. Terry's.
240 THE THEATRE. [APRIL i, 1889.
Mar. 20. " Brittany Folk," operetta ; libretto by Walter Frith, music by
Alfred J. Caldicott. St. George's Hall.
„ 21. "The Duke's Boast," play, in three acts, new adaptation, by
Osborne Buckle, of " Mile, de Belle Isle." Matinee. Avenue.
In the Provinces from February 14 to March 18, 1889 : —
Feb. 1 6.* " Barren Land," play, in four acts, by Henry Byatt and William
Magnay. (Originally produced at a matine'e at the Olympic,
April u, 1888, in three acts.) T.R. Wolverhampton.
„ 20. "A Platonic Attachment," a new three-act modern comedy,
by Eden Philpotts. Lyric Hall, Ealing.
„ 21. "A People's Hero," play, in three acts, by W. Howell Poole.
Grand, Glasgow.
„ 25. "Nora," comedy-opera, in three acts (author unannounced).
Albert Hall, Edinburgh.
„ 25. "The Conscript," drama, in four acts, by Wybert Clive. T.R.
Workington.
Mar. 5.* "Julius Caesar," tragedy (arranged in six acts). Oxford U.D.S.
„ ii. "Delia," new romantic military comic opera; libretto by
"F. Soulbien," music by P. Bucalossi. Prince's Theatre,
Bristol.
„ 16. "A Soldier of Fortune," comedy-drama, in two acts, by F. W.
Broughton. T.R. Jarrow.
„ 1 6. "The Land of the Living," five act play, by Frank Harvey.
Prince of Wales's, Great Grimsby.
1 8. " Master and Man," play, in four acts, by G. R. Sims and Henry
Pettitt. Birmingham.
1 8. " Chispa," romantic play, prologue and four acts, by Clay M.
Greene. Shakespeare Theatre, Liverpool.
In Paris, from February 15 to March 18, 1889 : —
Feb. 23.* "Les Filles de Marbre," drama, prologue and five acts, by
Theodore Barriere and Lambert Thiboust. Menus Plaisirs.
„ 28.* "Le Royaume des Femmes," play, in three acts, by MM
Blum and Toche (being a new version of the play by MM.
Cogniard and Desnoyers). Nouveautds.
Mar. 9. " La Bande Jaune," vaudeville, in three acts, by MM. Gaston
Maroc and Frangois Oswald. The'atre Cluny.
„ 15. " Belle-Maman," three-act comedy, by MM. Sardou and
Deslandes. Gymnase.
„ 1 6.* " Les Erinnyes," tragedy in verse by M. Leconte de Lisle, music
by M. Masseuet. Ode'on.
„ 1 8. "Mes Aieux," comedy, in three acts, by MM. Clairville and
Dupre. Palais Royal.
THE THEATRE.
The Good Librettist.
A GROWL BY A BAD ONE.
II, for a good librettist!" sighs the musician, with
the jottings before him of the opera which he is
always prepared to write, and the phantom morceaux
of that wonderful work running through his head.
" Oh for a decent librettist ! " pleads the manager
to the skies, after glancing through the first page of
the last scenario submitted to him, and tossing.it into the waste-
paper basket. "Where are the librettists?" ask pathetically
the gentlemen who undertake, in monthly reviews and superior
articles, the oversight of the fortunes of the stage. " The old
tale ; a bad book/' winds up the ordinary critic when noticing
the latest opera ; " the good librettist is still conspicuous by his
absence/' There appears never to have been a really good
librettist. In these sad circumstances it may be of interest, in
a melancholy way, just to note down some of the ideal features
of this rnra avis. The picture may also incidentally serve, as,
a guide to scribes who fancy that they have the stuff in them of
which librettists are made, and be of use to them both as an.
example and a warning.
In the first place, then, it is a well-understood thing that if
an opera makes a hit, the success is entirely due to the music.
As the bellows blower is to the organist, so is the librettist
to the composer of a successful opera. His name is rarely
mentioned by the public, who cannot be expected to read
microscopic print on play bills ; and half a dozen ikies 'on a
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. J
:4- THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
" notice " is quite as much as the musical critic of a paper can
be expected to waste on any mere scribbler. Let but the opera
be a failure, however, and behold the change ! Then, as if by
the wave of a magician's wand, the librettist is at once raised to
imperial power. Then, and then only, it appears that it is
really he, and not the musician, who makes success or failure :
in this case, failure. Whoever heard of an opera failing through
poor music r The contingency is out of the range of practical
criticism. It is always the libretto which is at fault. The
first thing, therefore, that the good librettist must thoroughly
digest and acquiesce in is, that if the piece is a success, he has
had only a derisively small share in it, and that if it is a failure,
the failure is all due to him. It will be perceived that none but
a good, in the sense of a Christian librettist, can fulfil this
preliminary condition.
To proceed. The librettist is presumed to write the book,
and the musician to set music to it when written ; though this
arrangement is occasionally departed from, as will be noticed
presently. When this simple arrangement is adhered to, the
librettist may not find his task easy, but it is nevertheless plain.
He has only to construct a thoroughly good acting play which
shall flower into musical situations at all its joints. He must
remember, in the first place, that at all sacrifices he must have
•a well-constructed piece in which the interest shall not flag for
a moment ; and he must remember in the first place also, that
at all sacrifices he must provide a suitable vehicle for music.
He must, therefore, be something more than an ordinary play-
wright, who has no music to trouble about, and something more
than a mere musician who has no play to think of. How is he
to do this ? There is only one way. He must soar upwards
into that Empyrean, which the grand critics assure us exists, in
which all the arts are one. There is, of course, such a happy
land, or these writers could not describe it so eloquently and
voluminously as they are able to do. Once arrived there, he is
all right, because where all is one, there are no opposing
interests to reconcile. He can then harmonise, not only the
dramatic and the musical interests, but also the scenic and the
sartorial, and, if need be, even the advertisements and the
booking. Before getting to this higher plane, however, he has
a pretty rough time of it. He would like perhaps to develop
MAY i, 1889. J THE GOOD LIBRETTIST. 243
his characters easily and naturally; but he finds six lines of
dialogue rather short measure in which to bring about, say, a
revulsion of feeling, or for the working of remorse, or the
uprooting of a strong passion. For the heroine to come on
and say, " But one minute ago I was all girl, with pretty
childish ways ; but now, since I have seen that one moustache,
I am a woman in thought and feeling," which is all the
librettist has space for, sounds a trifle abrupt. Even the
accomplished Shakespeare requires a little more space than
this, as we see with Juliet. Then he would like a little elbow
room in whi ch to bring about his situations, of which he must
have an allotted number at even distances, like lamp-posts ;
and he finds it rather cramping to wait at each lamp-post
while his characters sing, and then to scamper off with them
like wildfire to the next lamp-post. These and other kindred
little difficulties puzzle him at first ; but the good librettist, of
course, conquers them all, and arrives high and dry on the
Empyrean above mentioned.
There is, however, a pleasant little arrangement sometimes
made between composer and librettist, which is that they should
" work together." This idea is to the tyro an extremely
seductive one. It seems so thoroughly artistic, and what
ladies call nice, for the two brains to go hand-in-hand, if the
Liffeyism be allowed, step by step, each transfusing itself into
the other, like a sherry and bitter, and so producing a work
which is indivisibly one. Now here it must be remembered
that musicians are a much-tried race. They tell you that when
they are composing, at their desks, they can hear all the sounds
which they are writing down. This must be something awful,
especially when they are scoring. To hear horns blowing,
drums banging, fiddles squeaking, cornets tooting, and bas-
soons groaning all at once and anyhow, as they must do till
the composer has reduced them to order on his paper, is as
severe an ordeal as the mind can stand. Now when it comes
to "working together," the musician is only what might be
expected after such experiences. You say to him, for instance,
" Here, my dear fellow, where we have just got the crowd off,
is the place I have fixed on for the soprano's sentimental
ballad." "Ah," he replies, raising his eyes to the ceiling.
What sounds pass into his ears, whether cymbals, major fifths,
2-44.
THE THE A TRE. [MAY i, 1889.
Herr Grieg fugues, the surf on the shore, or the rain running
into the waterbutt, it is impossible for a layman to say ; but he
comes down to earth again with an emphatic " No ; the only
possible thing for that situation is a light duet for soprano and
tenor." You may argue, but you will only make him ill. You
point out that the tenor has gone off to lead his troops to battle,
or to make his fortune by piracy, only ten minutes before, and
that it is rather early to bring him back ; but he tells you that
point is of no importance whatever. Back he must come ; and
how, is your business. Or he has told you that he must have
a quintette in the middle of the second act, or, musically
speaking, die, and with infinite pains and dexterity you have
lugged the characters together for that purpose ; but when he
is brought face to face with them, he throws his head into the
air again, and hears something which is just the thing for an
alto solo. You look aghast when he begs you to put all your
other characters back again to where they came from ; and
then he asks you in a severe tone if you call that " working
together ! " Such, and a good deal more, is " working together,
hand-in-hand," and this the good librettist takes his share
in cheerfully and thankfully.
Further, the good librettist will be all the better a librettist
if he possesses, among his other modest qualifications, the
power of "working in." The composer and you are, for
instance, going to do a comic opera on the subject of Dick
Turpin. Now it so happens that he, a few years before, wrote
a cantata, say, on the " Pilgrim's Progress," which has unfor-
tunately never yet been performed ; and he thinks that, with a
little ingenuity on your part, and a few alterations on his, the
music thereof will " work in " nicely for the comic opera. He
goes through his cantata with you carefully, and points out how
this can easily be done. He tells you with an air of conviction
that his "Vanity Fair" chorus will be just the thing for the
finable of the first act ; that his duet for Christian and Apollyon,
with a few semi-quavers thrown in, will suit admirably for Dick
and his friend Tom King ; that his descriptive music of
Christian's first sight of the Delectable Mountains will make a
splendid scen#. for the heroine, and so forth. He hopes you will
oblige him, and " work in " all you can. When the cantata is
through, he remembers the four-part song which he did for a
MAY r, 1889.] THE GOOD LIBRETTIST. 245
^2 —
musical examination in his youth. If you will just bring the
four voices together on the stage, in some situation or other
where the waves are dashing mountains high, he can make use
of that too. Cannot you manage to take Dick and Tom and
two female admirers out to sea, or at least down to Margate,
and so bring it on naturally ? Then there is his march, which
was a wonderful success in the pantomime for which he wrote
it. It was for a procession of gnomes, dwarfs, genii, and
fairies, with comic episodes for toads and lizards ; surely it will
make a splendid opening for the third act, which takes place
at the Old Bailey Sessions, to bring on the judge, jury, counsel,
prisoners, and populace ! And then, if you have the chance,
while constructing the plot, do not forget his anthem, which has
already delighted thousands of worshippers at St. Barabbas the
Less, when he was organist there. It has a soprano lead, then
a duet with the tenor, then a trio, and finally a sestett ; and if
you will find a place for it, and bring the characters on the
stage in that order, to join in, he will be much obliged. All
these extraneous trifles the good librettist "works in" without
a murmur. He can cheerfully take the sweepings of his friend's
desk, and turn them into a connected, well-balanced, pleasing
and exciting opera.
The good librettist is of course a poet, with the power ot
Milton, the flight of Shelley, the finish of Tennyson, and the
humour of Hood; and he always writes his very best. Has he
not everything to encourage him to write real poetry \ One of
the distinguishing characteristics of opera singers is the great
pains they take to bring home to their hearers, clearly and
distinctly, every word of what they are singing. It is true
that appearances are against them. It is true that the average
auditor of the average song hears nothing but "ah's" and
" oh's," varied by an occasional " e." But that is not the fault
of the singer. It is due to the personal equation of the auditor.
His mind is not nimble enough to realise the fleeting con-
sonants as they pass, and he consequently thinks he hears
nothing but vowels. All the sounds really visit his ear, but the
consonants stop, as it were, on the door-mat, and as he fails to
seize them by the hand, they are off again. When this is
properly understood, it removes all blame from the singer, and
all cause of complaint from the librettist. Even were things
246 THE THEA7RE. [MAY i, 1889.
different; even supposing the musician looked on words only
as vehicles for sound, and that vocalists thought them a bore
to learn and a nuisance to pronounce, still that would make no
difference to the good and perfect librettist. He would write
real poetry all the same, knowing that even if it is slurred over
by the singers, and not heard by the audience, it is yet always
to be found in the " book of the words," which the latter take
home afterwards, and read to their delighted families. The
good librettist is also, needless to say, a Sheridan as well.
A final word may be said on another trifling matter. The
good librettist occasionally, though rarely, of course, exercises
his powers of assimilation and adaptation in still another way.
He now and then has "pumps and tubs " dropped on his head
by the management This power has, for instance, engaged
Miss Ducky de Diamonds for the principal part in the proposed
opera. Now Miss Ducky sings fairly well, has a magnificent
figure, and cannot say a word. So she must have a prominent
part ; her magnificent figure must be " on " as much as possible ;
she may trill all you like, but she must not say more than
" Yes " or " No." The really good librettist arranges all that.
It is a trifle to him to have a dumb heroine, if required. Or
the powers that be have just signed with a variety man, who
can give farmyard and Irving imitations, play angelically on
the bones, leap six feet in the air, whistle through his nose, and
scratch his head with his heel. So it is indispensable to have a
rattling good part for him, one in which each of his great
powers shall have a full show. This the good librettist also
manages without a flaw in his perfect workmanship.
All these little difficulties are conquered by the good librettist.
Let us hope that we shall see him soon. We shall then stand a
chance of getting to know how he does it. R. T. G.
MAY i, 1889.] «• ENCORE ! " 247
Encore !
W \CORE ! encore !
Though the danger's past,
And the woman is safe
On her feet at last —
Though the ropes are swinging"
High over the net,
Are swinging and clinging
And trembling yet,
So near to the gas
And its dazzling light,
Right over the mass
At a terrible height !
The people are calling
Their sickly refrain ;
The leap was appalling —
They'll have it again !
When once they see danger
They're bound to want more !
" Encore ! encore !
Encore f encore ! "
" Encore ! encore ! "
Though the flesh may creep,
And the eyes be drooping
For want of sleep,
And the heart be aching
For home and rest,
There's no forsaking
The business, lest
The manager, eager
To lessen the pay —
Ever so meagre !
Should fine her "a day."
248 7 HE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
And what would that mean
When the rent is due,
And dear Life's machine
Wants attending to ?
And what would it cost
When the times are bad,
And money is lost
On a drunken dad r
The labour is killing,
But Life must be earn'd ;
The peril is thrilling,
But Death must be spurned !
She can do it again —
As she did it before !
" Encore ! encore !
Encore ! encore ! "
" Encore ! encore ! "
She has heard the cry,
And she's climbing once more
To the platform high,
So near to the gas
And its dazzling light,
Right over the mass,
At a terrible height !
From bar to rope,
And from rope to bar,
With many a hope
That the end's not far,
She's swinging and clinging,
Not daring to pause,
While the people are singing
Their song of applause !
* * *
There's a gasping for breath
In the poisonous air,
A warning of death,
And a look of despair !
There's a cry near the roof,
Then a thud on the floor !
.MAY i, 1889.]
CAJOLING A CRITIC.
249
And the people go silently
Out at: the door —
Go silently shrinking
Away from the hall,
Not speaking, but thinking
Of somebody's fall ! —
Of a woman who died
In response to the roar,
" Encore. ! encore !
Encore ! encore ! "
LEOPOLD TURNER.
Cajoling a Critic.
A PROVINCIAL SKETCH.
BY KATHERINE M. LATIMER.
GROUP of actors belonging to the "Cupid's Cruelty"
company, then on tour, were seated on the esplanade
at B — - one fine morning in August last, chatting
among themselves. The promenade, half an hour
ago crowded with a brilliant throng, was now well-
nigh deserted ; the butterflies of society, intent upon
luncheon, had vanished with the band, and only a thin sprinkling
of less fashionable folk, who owned to a midday dinner, were
left to occupy the sheltered seats for a little while longer.
Sitting within earshot of the actors were two ladies, one of
them elderly, and probably the mother of the younger, who was
engrossed in the — to male eyes — hopelessly intricate task of
" turning" the heel of a sock she was knitting, and upon which,
to all appearances, her undivided attention was bestowed.
Of the actors there were four. Malcolm Rogers, the leading
man — a trifle older and stouter than his companions — had
established himself comfortably in the shade a little apart ;
daily paper in hand, he was deeply immersed in studying the
momentous question, " Is Marriage a Failure ?" — for the leading
man was a Benedick. The three other members of the com-
250 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
pany were more sociably, if less profitably, employed in
animated conversation. Edward Roseby, engaged for the
juvenile lead, was a painstaking young actor making steady
headway in the profession, having the good sense not only to
criticise himself, but with discretion to heed the criticisms ot
those competent to judge. At his right sat Richard Arnold,
familiarly known as " Old Dick," possibly on account of his
faithful adherence to old men's parts, which he assumed so well
that the elderly attributes had somewhat permeated his private
character. His success, be it stated, was solely due to a diligent
study of one model, from which he never ventured to deviate
into originality ; consequently his old men, aristocratic as they
might be and excellent individually, bore so strong a family
likeness to each other that it was difficult mentally to know
t'other from which.
The last of the party, Ralph Fitzroy, was lounging indolently
on a couple of chairs, which he had appropriated to his own
use. His careless attitude betokened a disregard for the con-
ventionalities of life which was not exhibited until he had
assured himself that the fashionable element had finally
departed, and that the few remaining specimens of humanity
were of that stamp immeasurably inferior to himself, and
therefore not to be taken into consideration. He was a new,
though not an unknown, addition to the company, as a substitute
for a short time to play the role of the gentlemanly villain.
Privately he was of opinion that his performance gave a
remarkable impetus to the play ; that it was far superior to
anything in a similar line ever attempted by Tree, and was
infinitely more subtle and artistic than Irving' s Mephisto-
pheles.
Between Roseby and Fitzroy a wordy war was constantly
raging, and it cannot be said that the latter ever came off the
victor, though at the inevitable crisis Old Dick would throw
himself into the breach and arrange a truce, like the born peace-
maker that he was ! On this glorious August morning they had
been enjoying a rather hot discussion in tones sufficiently ani-
mated to enable near neighbours to appreciate their argumenta-
tive powers. ^As usual, Old Dick discreetly directed the conver-
sation into smoother waters as soon as he had the opportunity,
MAY i, 1889.] CAJOLING A CRITIC. 251
^
launching- into the by no means original subject of the condition
of matters theatrical at B .
/
" This place has always had the reputation of badly support-
ing the theatre," he observed, mildly, " but we had a better
house last night than I ever remember seeing at the Royalty,
and I've been here a good many times."
"Ah," replied Fitzroy, bumptiously, as was his wont, "it
only wants the public taste to be hit ; and there is nothing, in my
opinion, better calculated to draw than a really cleverly worked -
out villain, and I flatter myself I am the man to do that for
you."
Old Dick knew that a speech of that type was to Roseby what
a red flag is to a bull, and he sighed resignedly.
"Yes," answered Roseby, with covert sarcasm; " we think
ourselves fortunate in possessing such a powerful magnet as
you, old boy, to attract the British public. Only do take care ot
yourself, old fellow, and don't overtax your brain, or your absence
for a night from indisposition would cause such a frost that we
poor beggars should never get through."
Fitzroy wisely refrained from accepting this equivocal compli-
ment.
" I expect Ellis will secure me to create the villain's role in his
new drama," he observed, with lofty contempt for Roseby's
remark. " He almost said as much when I saw him last, and if
I send him up good notices from here it will probably clinch the
matter, though he always professes to rely solely on his own
judgment."
" He pays badly," said Roseby, contemptuously.
" And your notices here may not be so satisfactory as he and
you would like," put in Old Dick, sagely.
" Oh, yes, they will," laughed Fitzroy, confidently. " I'm not
going to let a good thing slip through my fingers when it may
be secured by a little diplomatic manoeuvring, my boy ! "
" What game have you been up to then ? " questioned Old
Dick, curiously.
" Working the papers, of course ! "
; " Won't do — won't do," asserted Old Dick, emphatically.
" You'll gain nothing in the end by manoeuvring in that direc-
tion. Never tamper with the Press, is my motto."
" Besides, where is the necessity, considering Fitzroy's
252 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
talents?" asked Roseby, cynically. "The critics ought to do
the trick without being inspired."
" Bosh ! " exclaimed Fitzroy, impatiently. " What are the
critics in small towns like this ? Mere reporters ; most of them
as ignorant about dramatic criticisms as babies. They jump at
a hint or two ; and where' s the harm ? "
"Then your brilliant ability doesn't even dawn on these
obliging reporters without a 'hint or two ' ?" observed Roseby,
inquiringly.
" Don't be so confoundedly cynical," growled Fitzroy,
moodily.
"Never mind Roseby," interposed Old Dick, cheerfully.
" He doesn't mean anything ; it's only his way. Go ahead,
old fellow, and let us know who you've ' worked,' and how
you did it."
Fitzroy's ruffled plumes smoothed down on receiving this
welcome intimation. Like most " clever fellows " he objected
to hide his light under a bushel.
" Oh, it's simplicity itself," he informed his listeners, with a
great assumption of nonchalance. " I was lucky enough this
morning to meet the editor of the ' Independent ' with Stanley,
the lessee, and he introduced me. Let me see — what was his
name ? Keith, I think."
"Yes," broke in Old Dick. " I know both the paper and its
editor by repute. You won't get round Keith in a hurry, old
boy, I can tell you ! The ' Independent ' acts up to its name,
and gives the best and most outspoken criticisms of any
provincial paper I know, barring perhaps those in the big
northern towns. If you get a good notice in its columns it
will not only be genuine but of real value to you. Keith
writes the dramatic criticisms himself."
" Yes, I know. He is not a believer in the ubiquity of the
reporter, who isn't usually cut out for the role of dramatic critic.
Keith seems a jolly sort of fellow, getting well into the fifties,
and evidently quite open to unlimited soft-soap. In fact, my
dear boy, I turned your clever critic completely round my little
finger. Personally I must say I rather like Keith, but he is a
regular old fool all the same."
Old Dick looked unconvinced, and Roseby sarcastically in-
.MAY i, 1889.] CAJOLING A CRITIC. 253
J*
quired what value Fitzroy placed upon the opinion of a man
whom he could so very flatteringly describe.
" The value of his opinion will be its influence on Ellis/
replied Fitzroy, with lordly disdain.
" Poor Ellis ! " murmured Roseby, sympathetically.
" If you want my opinion," remarked Old Dick, with emphasis-
on the personal pronoun, " I think you are the fool, and unless I
am greatly out of my reckoning you will endorse that assertion
before you have done with the * Independent.' '
11 Not I, old boy! "
" Nous verrons" observed old Dick, sententiously.
"When does the paper come out?" asked Roseby, who was
paying his first visit to B .
" To-morrow morning," replied Fitzroy. " It is the first ol
the local papers, and the others are sure to take their tone
rom it."
" Don't get nervous to-night, old boy, thinking of the morrow
which is to dawn and find you famous," said Roseby.
Fitzroy muttered an uncomplimentary allusion to sour grapes,
but as Roseby failed to catch the sense of the remark he let it
pass in silence, reflectively puffing away at his cigarette.
Benedick broke the stillness by a great rustling of his paper as
he folded it to a more convenient size in his ardent pursuit after
matrimonial experiences, and the rippling waves played a gentle
obbligato to the unmusical sound.
"What seest thou in yon fair maiden to so entrance thy
thoughts ! " suddenly exclaimed Fitzroy, theatrically, addressing
his flowery observation to Old Dick, who was absently gazing
at the industrious knitter, and was somewhat startled by his
companion's unexpected remark.
"Nothing particular," he said, in a lower key than Fitzroy
thought proper to employ. " I've been wondering where I have
seen her before, that's all ; her face seems familiar to me."
As a matter of course they all glanced towards the object of
their remarks. The girl too looked up, eyed them swiftly, and
then turned her attention unconcernedly to her work again.
" Why can't you speak in lower tones ? " whispered Old Dick,
looking vexed. " I believe she heard your nonsense."
"Shall I politely inquire the maiden's name for you ?" asked
Fitzroy, half rising, and bestowing what he fondly imagined to
254 THE THEATRE. LMAY i, 1889.
be an irresistible glance upon the unconscious girl, who was
fortunately not looking.
" Don't be a fool, Fitzroy," spoke up Roseby, an indignant
flush rising to his face. " Haven't you sense enough to see that
the girl, whoever she is, is not one to appreciate advances from
a stranger?"
" Mind your own business," retorted Fitzroy, hotly. " I'm not
responsible to you for my actions."
"I should have all my time occupied if you were," returned
Roseby, with an angry laugh. " I'm not going to see a lady
insulted before my very eyes, and by one of our company,
without protesting."
" There, shut up, you two," interrupted peace-loving Arnold.
" Fitzroy isn't going to be such an idiot, especially as it isn't
of the slightest importance who the lady is. Probably I've
seen her at the theatre — hush ! here she comes ! "
The two ladies walked slowly past the group as Old Dick
whispered his concluding sentence. Just for an instant the
girl's bright eyes rested on each individual, and, as Roseby
caught the suspiciously quizzical expression of her face, the
thought struck him that she had overheard their conversation ;
but he dismissed the idea as improbable. He was wrong, all
the same.
" Well, you fellows, I'm off to dinner," announced Benedick,
aroused by the footsteps, and stretching himself energetically.
He had finished " Is Marriage a Failure r" and was inclined to
agree that, under certain circumstances, it was. He now
bethought himself of refreshment for the inner man.
Four abreast they strolled into the town together, when,
rounding a corner, they came face to face with the ladies who
had passed them on the parade. The younger of the two was
laughing gaily, and the quartette of actors, as they broke their
line to allow the ladies to pass, caught the words — " the most
delicious piece of comedy in real life I ever knew " — though the
instant the speaker was aware of their presence she became
discreetly silent. The guilty trio eyed one another inquiringly,
but, as no one ventured to dissect the " delicious piece of
comedy," they, said nothing and thought the more.
Next morning the " Independent " was published, and, in-
vesting in a copy, Roseby and Old Dick wandered up to the
MAY i, 1889.] CAJOLING A CRITIC. 255
Js»
parade. Finding- a quiet corner they sat down and perused the
— to them — all-important notice of " Cupid's Cruelty." Only
one extract need be given nere, and that is as follows : —
" Unfortunately for the success of the play the role of the
villain, Uriah Creepling, was but feebly filled by Mr. Ralph
Fitzroy. He was effete where he should have been forcible,
ranting where he should have been dramatic, and vulgar where
gentlemanliness should have concealed his true character.
Some ability he undoubtedly possesses, but he can only hope
to rise above mediocrity by hard study and forgetfulness of
self, not by attempting important roles like that of Creepling,
which is capable of powerful acting, and "quite beyond Mr.
Fitzroy's immature experience. It would be cruel kindness to
this too confident young actor to write less plainly."
" Phew ! " whistled Roseby.
And then he and Old Dick indulged in a quiet laugh. It was
all so irresistibly comic.
" Have you seen Fitzroy this morning ? " asked Roseby.
"No ; have you r "
Roseby shook his head and stared at the " Independent."
He was sound at heart with all his cynicism, and he was
prepared to sympathise with Fitzroy, if that gentleman accepted
his defeat bravely.
" I wonder what he'll say," speculated Old Dick.
" That the editor is a bigger fool than he even gave him
credit for ! "
" He has proved one too many for Fitzroy, at all events.
And, after all, the criticism is not unjust, with all its sharpness.
From what I've heard, Keith is rarely so severe as that. He
cuts you up gently but firmly, as a rule, and I can only imagine
that poor Fitzroy has been treated to the proverbial exception,
which means an extra amount of firmness, minus the alleviating
quality."
" Perhaps Keith saw through the ' diplomatic manoeuvring/
and resolved to teach Fitzroy a lesson r "
"It is quite possible, but — hullo! here's Stanley," broke off
Old Dick, unceremoniously. He knew the lessee intimately.
"And, by Jove, Fitzroy is with him ! Well, old man, have you
seen the * Independent ' ? "
" Of course I've seen it," returned Fitzroy, shortly, and his
256 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 188*.
manner sent Roseby's newly-awakened sympathy into the
regions of the departed.
" If you want an extra copy to send to Ellis you can have
mine," he remarked, politely.
" It's jolly strong against you," went on Arnold, good-
naturedly.
" What else can one expect but coarse ignorance from a set
of provincial quill-drivers ? " said Fitzroy, gloomily.
" Come now, don't allege ignorance without being able to
prove it," said Stanley, cheerily. " Mr. Keith is a man who
has seen the world, and most of the first actors and actresses of
the day, as well as those of a past generation, whose names
are household words. He hasn't lived all his life in a small
provincial town."
"He's a confounded ass, whatever he's seen or wherever he's
been," grumbled Fitzroy, unreconciled to his whipping.
"Not he!" laughed Stanley, who was inclined to treat the
matter as a good joke. It always is a "good joke" with some
people, till they experience the fun themselves. "By-the-by,
there's his daughter."
" Where ? " asked Roseby, carelessly.
" There," responded the lessee, laconically, indicating a lady
whom the three actors had no difficulty in recognising as the
object of their attention the previous day ! " She is very clever
with her pen — takes after her father, I suppose — and between
ourselves I may as well tell you that she writes the dramatic
criticisms for the ' Independent/ though her father, who, ot
course, gives her the benefit of his experience, is generally
supposed to do so. This harmless fiction is Miss Keith's
particular wish, and I'm not acting quite straight in letting
it out, so don't say anything about it, or you'll get me into
trouble."
Simultaneously Roseby and Old Dick looked at one another,
as if a ray of light had dawned on their obscured faculties.
Then of one accord they turned to Fitzroy, who, very red in
the face, was glaring after Miss Keith as if he had been sud-
denly seized with an unaccountable frenzy.
" What the deuce is the matter with you all ! " exclaimed
Stanley, impatiently.
" Ha-ha-ha ! " roared Old Dick, in a spontaneous outburst
^^w^w^ft^fty^^
MISS ELLALINE TERRISS.
In maiden meditation fancy free."
MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, Act II., Sc. 2.
FROM A PHOTOGRAPH SPECIALLY TAKEN FOR "THE THEATR*"
BY BARRAUD, LONDON AND LIVERPOOL..
MAY i, 1889.] FALSTAFFS JgNK \O\\\V TO FAME. 257
of uncontrollable merriment. Then he composed his features
with alarming suddenness, /and looked preternaturally solemn.
" ' A delicious piece of comedy,' " quoth Roseby, absently
gazing at the girlish figure of the " Independent's " dramatic
critic, as she wended her way along the parade.
" Oh, go to the devil for a set of confounded idiots," snapped
Fitzroy, as he strode off in a towering passion.
And then Stanley was initiated into the mysteries of cajoling
a critic !
Falstaffs Unknown to Fame.
his piquant paper on "Famous Falstaffs," in the
April number of THE THEATRE, Mr. Robert W. Lowe
has included more than one impersonator of the fat
knight whose attainment to fame, or even to notoriety,
in that inspiring — I had nearly written perspiring —
part may be questioned. In this, I conceive, an
opening has been invitingly left for an incursive note or two.
Old playgoers appear to have forgotten an escapade of the great
Mrs. Glover, who, on some benefit occasion, essayed the part,
laudably failing through sheer feminine incapacity for gross -
ness. Nevertheless she was not more un-Falstaffian than it
behoved the cleverest actress to be. A merrier woman than
Mrs. Glover, within the limits of becoming mirth, I never knew,
unless it were Mrs. Orger ; and in saying this I am not unmind-
ful of Mrs. Frank Matthews or the incomparable Mrs. Keeley,
neither of whom in her maddest waggery would have dreamt of
figuring as plump Jack. There was indeed an unction in Mrs.
Glover which stamped her as the female Dowton of the stage
in her time. From all that is known to " us youth " concerning
Dowton, he was an actor to tumble into a billowy tide of
character like a whale. I can well imagine his Falstaff to have
been but little inferior to his Sir Anthony Absolute ; whereas
all the wind that ever blew and all the horsehair that ever
grew could not have plumped out the poorest Sir John from a
Mrs. Malaprop. There is an ingenious theory — which I
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. U
258 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
remember to have read in " The Confessions of a Bashful
Irishman" — to the effect that Shakespeare, not being so
scrupulous as to the source of his plots and per so me. as, in
these copyright days, would be insisted on, had somehow fallen
on a garbled translation of Rabelais, the one great man of that
time on the continent of Europe, and, seeing at once the
dramatic capabilities of Panurge, had dressed and padded the
lean rogue into a marvel of obesity, a tun of man, and renamed
him Falstaif. The two characters have an infinity of outrageous
qualities in common ; the same peculiar ingenuity in lying ; the
same exhaustless fertility of jokes on their own physical
disadvantages ; the same endowment of rich, quaint, ever-
swelling humour, glossing over, and even lending grace to
their preposterous cowardice ; the same amusing profligacy, the
same readiness of contrivance, the same genius of buffoonery.
Falstaif is Panurge padded ; Panurge is Falstaff fallen away :
a full malt-sack dwindled to a thread-paper. Panurge in the
storm is the counterpart of Falstaff at Shrewsbury fight. Each,
moreover, has his Doll Tearsheet. What does Mr. Beerbohm
Tree — who certes has been moulded by nature less for Falstaff
than Panurge, and who has yet contrived to maintain the
succession of famous Falstaifs — say to this daring parallel of
opposites? Since the elder Mathews, justly accredited by
Mr. Lowe with considerable success in Falstaff, there has
been no actor so voluminous as Mr. Tree, a complete cyclo-
psedia of character. Dowton, though he lived long into my
time, dying at the age of eighty-seven in 1851, I never saw.
He was. renowned for a full, rich oiliness of manner, and was
deemed by Leigh Hunt a better Sir Anthony on that account
than old Farren, whose Periwinkle, Lord Ogleby, and Sir Peter
Teazle were choice pieces of Dresden china. He was far too
fragile for Sir Anthony, and looked, as Hunt said, as if a rage
would kill him. Dowton, who flourished, or rather floundered,
somewhat earlier than Farren, would have been, I should think,
a more than respectable FalstaiF. I must demur to the praise
accorded Bartley in Sir John. To my taste he was a rather
cartilaginous and savourless dish wanting in the salt which was
afterwards infused by Phelps ; and yet Phelps, in this part, was
only half to my liking. On the whole, I think the best Falstaff I
ever saw was presented by an obscure actor, whose name I think
MAY i, 1889.]
A
SONNET.
259
was Campbell, and whom I last saw, in his old age, at Maybury
College. He played the^art at the Grecian Saloon, when
Robson was the Justice Shallow, and I have looked in vain
for any such thoroughly Falstaffian quality in actors of higher
rank. A certain Captain Harvey Phipps Tuckett, who fought
a duel with the Earl of Cardigan over the black-bottle aifair
<it Brighton, was to have played Falstaif, and I suppose did as
much, after a fashion, during a run of amateur performances,
many years ago, at the Lyceum. He had some good moments
as Mercutio, being a tall man and somewhat personable, in
spite of a pronounced stoop, but on the whole his Mercutio fell
short of success, as I should think his Falstaif must have fallen,
if it be authentic history that he ever appeared in the part.
GODFREY TURNER.
A Broken Sonnet.
OU loved me once, I know !
I had the first, the best ; let others reap
The after-fruits, although it cost me pain ;
Although I sometimes turn aside and weep
To see Love's golden grainage scattered so ; —
Borne where each errant wind may chance to
blow, —
The gift you gave you cannot take again !
You love me still, I know !
It is not possible you should forget
All I have been in good glad days gone by ;
For Time is strong, but Memory stronger yet
On his grey fortress-walls doth greenly grow ;
You could not hate me if you \vould, and — O !
I loved and I shall love you till I die!
CLO GRAVES.
26o 2 HE THEATRE. [MAY i, i8£9.
"A Few Words from the Unseen/'
Produced under the direction of .
'HESE few words, which have appeared lately on the
bills of many a London theatre, are generally passed
over unobserved by the playgoing public, and often
by the critics. It is a great mistake to think that
the man who looks after the production of a new
play is merely a stage manager. Stage managing is
a business ; producing a new play is a gift which can neither
be taught nor acquired.
The stage manager stands (if I may be allowed the com-
parison) in the same light as a medical student does to a
physician, with this difference, that the physician may be a
specialist only, but the play-producer, or metteztr en scene, must
be proficient in every branch of the dramatic art. Not only
must he be capable of arranging for the production of a new
play with the scenic artist, costumier, master carpenter,,
property master, gasman, limelight man, musical director, the
manager or manageress (as the case may be) — and now of late
one more trouble is added to his work, viz., the electrician — but
he has also to study the actors and actresses engaged for the
play, to harmonise the colour of the scene and furniture with
that of the dresses worn ; he must know the rudiments of
music, dancing, and elocution, for it may fall to his lot to have
to produce a farce, a comic opera, burlesque, domestic drama,,
comedy or farcical comedy, a melodrama, tragedy, or what not.
In all the branches that I have already enumerated he must
command the respect and acknowledgment of superiority over
every one under his supervision ; but his greatest quality must,
be that of a diplomatist to be able to cope with the many
antagonistic interests unavoidable in the production of a new
play, not being obstinate if a good suggestion is offered, and at
the same time by appearing to give way to every one still to
hold his own. Another point which must not be lost sight of
MAY i, 1889.] THE BROKEN VOW. 261
^ _
is, that he should never attempt to commence the rehearsals of
a new play unless he has read and re-read the manuscript, and,
as it were, made himself conversant with every act, situation,
and scene; his work may also be to suggest to the author
certain alterations which may be beneficial to the play. He
must also be a man of many years' experience, and should have
commenced from the very lowest rung of the ladder.
My object in sending this is to plead the favour of a few
words of recognition, not only from the public, but also from the
critics, for the unseen play producer. No one in front of the
house on a first performance knows of his anxiety, nervousness,
and heart-beating — he is, as it were, the masterhand which pulls
the strings. In conclusion let me point out that it is time that
the fact should be recorded of his existence. M.
The Broken Vow.
POEM FOR RECITATION.
Dedicated to, and recited by, Miss Florence Marry at.
BY ROBERT S. HICHENS.
HEY'D just left school, three maidens young,
They drove towards the railway station ;
Before them — life ; the death knell rung
Of rules, and schools, and "preparation."
Bright Maud, a blonde, dark Jane, a queen,
With piercing eyes and manners haughty,
And Kate — well, something just between,
A wayward minx, now good, now naughty.
Their boxes on the carriage roof
Weighed heavily, a goodly cluster ;
The horse was slow, though giving proof
Of strength few fly horses could muster.
" Now, girls," said Maud, " before we part
Let's make a vow, and keep it duly,
That each will guard for each her heart,
The men are wretched creatures truly.
262 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
" Their manners are uncouth and rough ;
Their tempers bad when they are seedy ;
Their voices ugly, harsh, and gruff ;
Their appetites are sadly greedy ;
They smoke until they grow as pale
As curl papers or wedding dresses ;
They drink great draughts of bitter ale ;
Untrue the love their tongue professes.
" Miss Simpson says they often flirt
(Poor thing, she has good cause* to know it).
They trample hearts like so much dirt ;
They swear strange oaths like * Hang,' and ' Blow it; '
They play at pool, love ' penny gaff' —
Though what that means I have no notion —
In fact male beings are riff-raff,
Not worth a pretty maid's emotion.
" Let's vow to meet in three years' time,
Once more in sweet commune to mingle,
And promise — " (youthful faith's sublime ! )
" That each will still be free and single."
" We vow it ! " Here the carriage stopped.
The girls got out, kissed broken-hearted,
With handkerchiefs their faces mopped,
And to their diff 'rent homes departed.
A year rolled by — and pretty Maud
Was reigning as the belle of Surrey,
By half a dozen youths adored,
All fain to wed her in a hurry.
Proud Jane had won the stolid love
Of Mr. Jones, an Oxford Proctor,
And Kate was sitting in a grove
With Robinson, the handsome doctor.
Another year — the Surrey belle
Could not withstand the love eternal
Of Mr. Brown, who wrote so well
Those verses in the " Dorking Journal ; "
MAY i, 1889.] THE BROKEN VOW. 263
>
Indited sonnets to her nose
(For which they paid him half a guinea),
Called her his " Venus," " Pearl," and " Rose,"
His queen of girls from Joan to Jenny.
While Jane had yielded to the tones,
Like organ pipes emphatic, prosy,
Of learned little Mr. Jones,
Who'd wealth enough to make her cosy ;
And Kate, of whom so much was hoped, —
Poor Mrs. Grundy, how it shocked her ! —
Had positively — well — eloped
With Robinson, the handsome doctor.
Each girl, remembering her vow,
Concealed her marriage from the others —
" I'll wait, no need to tell it now — "
Ah ! shame the truth so often smothers.
" Next year, when we've arranged to meet,
I'll take my husband to our trysting ;
And when I introduce my sweet
They'll see such charms there's no resisting."
Another year — the time had passed —
Each girl, with guilty heart a-beating,
Set forth, bound to confess at last
Her secret at the place of meeting.
Brown, Jones, and Robinson went too,
Half-laughing, yet a trifle shyly.
" They'll understand when they see you,"
Said to her spouse each maiden wily.
The place of meeting was a wood.
First Maud arrived, leading her poet,
" I'll tell them ; till they've understood
Hide here, and mind ! don't let them know it."
She hid the poor man in a bush—
A bush close by, both thick and prickly.
With warning frown she whispered " Hush ! "
For footsteps were approaching quickly.
264 THE THE A 2 RE. [MAY i, 1889.
'Twas Kate — the naughty, wilful Kate ;
She'd left her spouse, the handsome doctor,
Behind a lofty tree to wait,
Near which proud Jane had hid her proctor.
With smiles they met, those maidens three —
"Darling!" "At last!" " You haven't altered !"
But no one said, " Still fancy free r "
Their six eyes met, and each one faltered.
" Well, girls," at last said pretty Maud,
" The years bring changes in their flying.
Strong-minded females I applaud —
They're grand examples, no denying.
Your vows of course you've nobly kept ;
Most men are brutes, too well we know it ;
There's but one man that I except —
I mean, of course, dear girls, a poet."
" A poet, Maud ? I can't agree,"
Said Jane, her cheek with blushes burning.
" Something more solid pleases me —
A man of weight, a man of learning.
One who can make a pun in Greek,
Reads Hebrew for his recreation,
Works sixty hours in the week,
And loves a stiff examination."
" Dear me ! " cried Kate, " I never heard
In all my life of two such creatures :
Verses and classics — how absurd !
Give me a man with handsome features :
A large blue eye, a Roman nose ;
No poet, parson, prig, or proctor.
He must be something, I suppose ;
Then most of all I like a doctor."
" A doctor ! " shrieked out Maud and Jane ;
" A man of pills and draughts and blisters ;
Who'd probe a tender father's brain,
Dissect a loving wife or sisters."
MAY i, 1889.] THE BROKEN VOW. 265
Js»
" Never ! " cried Kate, and turned quite pale ;
" My Robinson would never do it."
"Your Robinson ! XVhat ? — then " (words fail).
" I'm married, though you never knew it."
" Married r " " Yes ; here's my wedding-ring.
Why, Maud, you've got just such another.
And Jane, too." " What a funny thing ! "
Each girl said, looking at the other.
" I couldn't help it — you will see "
(All spoke at once). " He looked so sad too.
No other man could conquer me
But Brown — Jones — Robinson. I had to."
Hark ! hark ! Three sudden sounds near by,
Three rustlings in the trees and bushes,
Three manly steps — a stifled cry-
To each fond maid a husband rushes.
For learning, poetry, and pills
May fight, agree, unite, or sever,
But Cupid governs hearts and wills,
In past years, future ones, for ever."
266 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889,
©ur
"MERRY MARGATE."
A Farce, in three acts, by SYDNEY GRUNDY.
Produced at the Comedy Theatre, March 27, 1889.
Ptolemy Tubbs .. .. Mr. W. S. PENLEY. Fritz Mr. A. J. ANDREWS.
Lieut -Col Cadlmrv filr- RUTLAND BAR- Narcissus Jones .. .. Mr. E. W. GARDINER.
uuiy •' I RINGTON. Mrs. Culpepper .. .. Miss SOPHIE LARKIN.
Captain Montague .. Mr. C. W. GARTHORNE. ,, T,,™«, (Miss VANE FEATHER-
Tompkinson Mr. W. WYES. Mrs. Tubbs | STQNE
Jenkinson Mr. J. W. KENNEDY. Selina Culpepper.. .. Miss SUSIE VAUGHAN.
A Stranger Mr. W. J. HAWTREY. Kate Cadbury .. .. Miss LOTTIE VENNE.
Nowadays we have ceased to look for originality in the plot of a farce,
and indeed it matters little what be the foundation if the author gives
us good work in the building of his play. Truly we looked for this in a
man of Mr. Grundy's ability ; in a dramatist whose style, if sometimes
blunt, is generally witty, But, alas ! what a falling-off is here. Much that
is almost silly, and sometimes dull, forms a great proportion of "Merry
Margate/' which is anything but merry. You may sometimes laugh at a
bad drama, but a dull farce is depressing and wearisome to a degree.
Narcissus Jones, a poet, arrives at Margate to see the girl he loves.
Objected to by her father, but known to him by name only, he changes
name with his friend Tubbs, a soap-boiler. This of course involves them
in all manner of scrapes. These mistakes are the essence of modern farce,
but all depends on how it is done. Tubbs, who has come to Margate for
a few days' amusement, is followed hither by his mother-in-law, wife, and
sister-in-law, who do not believe his statement that he went away on
business. They have traced him easily from his zeal in advertising his
soap, which makes him stick small round labels in praise of it on ev.ery
place or thing he comes across. Now this was amusing enough in " The
Duchess of Bayswater and Co.," a one-act piece. But here not only it has
lost the merit of novelty, but at the end of three long acts these little round
labels become excessively irritating. Mrs. Tubbs has been persuaded by
her mother to pass herself off as a widow ; why is not at all clear. But it
brings about the funniest situation in the play. When Tubbs, who at first
hides from his family, wishes to be recognised by them, they insist on
calling him Mr. Jones, and calling Jones their dear Ptolemy. But why
should I go into the details of a play whose wit consists in making one man,
for no purpose whatever, wear the clothes and padded stockings of his
friend, and making him say that "Turin is the place where they make
the soup." When a man of Mr. Grundy's high literary merit condescends
to write such rubbi-h, one can only say, with Ruy Bias—" Pour un homme-
d"1 esprit, Traiment, — vous m'etonnez!"
MAY i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 267
w*
"Merry Margate" may perhaps be worked up into a success, but this
will be thanks to the acting. All do their very best to enliven the piece,
and make the most of the pafrts entrusted to them ; but it is up-hill and
discouraging work. I do not mention any particular performer, for all
deserve equal praise, and one is sorry to see so good a company wasted
on so poor a play.
"THE LADY OF LYONS."
• iraiul Theatre, April 10, 1889, Miss Amy Roselle's Benefit Matinee.
Pauline Deschapelles has proved one of Miss Amy Roselle's greatest
successes during her recent provincial tours. To London playgoers it is
not so well known. Miss Roselle's Pauline is undoubtedly the very best
readi ngand rendering of the part that we have seen for many years.
There are many lights and shades in this character, and here we have an
actress who brings them out with equal delicacy and power. At first we have
the haughty girl, conscious of the supremacy of her great beauty (how truly
handsome Miss Roselle looks), full of tender archness to the Prince who
flatters her vanity, but not as yet loving the man, though she believes she
does. Then the awakening — " I'll not wrong him by a harsh word," what
a yearning in her tones ! — to find it all a mistake. Then the bitter sarcasm
of her reproaches. This is not the scold we too often see, but an injured
woman crying out under her wrong. As she sank on her knees she thrilled
every heart with her " Save thy wife from madness ! " In the fourth act,
when she forgives Claude, here, at last, do I find a Pauline who in one
grand impulse gives her whole soul to the man she has not really loved
until then. Altogether it is a fine impersonation, blending the finish of
comedy with the greatest dramatic power — a rendering true and human
without a trace of staginess. Mr. Arthur Dacre's Claude is unequal, but
he should be .commended for two things : he does not rant, and he does not
speak at the audience like the Claudes of the old style. In the first act he
was very good in the scene with Caspar. The second act did not show him
at his best, except in the Palace speech, spoken very simply and tenderly.
But in the cottage scene he showed great fire and depth of feeling and
earnestness, and there is much to praise in his acting of the part.
"THE SILVER KING."
The revival of " The Silver King ", on April 15 at the Princess's again
proved welcome, as it ever does. Good plays gain in favour by repetition ;
the audience may become more critical, but so much the better when the
acting is so excellent. Without altering a reading which was good and
true from the first, the Wilfrid Denver of Mr. Wilson Barrett gains each
time in finish, and, strange though it may seem, in freshness. There is,
if possible, more spontaneity in the pathos ; and never has the dream, an
admirable piece of elocution, been more naturally delivered. Throughout
268 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
the play Mr. Wilson Barrett gives us additional cause to regret that he no
longer has a theatre of his own in London. Mr. George Barrett's Jaikes
remains as ever a finished and touching piece of pathetic comedy — more
pathetic, I think, than Regnier's celebrated impersonation in " La Joie fait
Peur." Miss Eastlake, earnest throughout, has gained power in some of
her scenes, and certainly the one in which she learns her husband is alive
has never been better rendered by her. Mr. W. A. Elliott deserves sincere
commendation for the care he bestows on each character he undertakes.
A part is never bad, however small, if it is well acted. Mr. Elliott under-
stands this, and succeeds accordingly. Mr. S. M. Carson repeats his
excellent sketch of Corkett, one of the very best things he has ever done.
When Mr. Cooper-Cliffe first undertook The Spider some time back his
reading was good, but there was a lack of power about the interpretation.
I am now glad to see a marked improvement. The Spider of Mr. Cooper-
Cliffe is now polished and resolute in manner, and his cool and incisive
delivery gives tone to the whole rendering. I sincerely congratulate him.
But all do well. Mr. Wilson Barrett, like a true artist, has always under-
stood that by surrounding himself with a good company his own splendid
acting only shines all the brighter. MARIE DE MENSIAUX.
"YOUNG MRS. WINTHROP."
Play, in three acts, by BRONSON HOWARD.
Revived at a Matinee at Terry's Theatre, March 26, 1839.
Douglas Winthrop . . Mr. J. G. GRAHAME.
Herbert Mr. H. REEVES SMITH.
DickChetwyn Mr. F. KERR.
Buxi on Scott Mr. ALFRED BISHOP.
M rs. Douglas Winthrop Miss KINHARVIE.
Mrs. Winthrop .. .. Miss MORELAND.
Edith Miss CUDMORE.
Mrs. Dick Chetwyn . . Misa MARIE LINDEN.
John Mr. GILBERT.
Even when produced at the Court Theatre on November 6, 1884, with
Messrs. H. B. Conway, H. Reeves Smith, F. Kerr, Arthur Cecil, and Misses
Marion Terry, Lydia Foote, Norreys, and Mrs. John Wood in the cast,
" Young Mrs. Winthrop " did not prove a very inspiriting play. One could
but feel annoyed that the estrangement which had arisen between man and
wife had not some deeper motive, rather than one that a word of explana-
tion on the part of the husband could have cleared away, and which there was
no earthly reason why he should not utter. Miss Kinharvie, the American
lady who made her first appearance in London in the character of young
Mrs. Winthrop, evidently considered it one well within her powers, and,
though she did not afford proofs of being a great actress, gave a pleasing
and intelligent reading of the part, and showed herself possessed of some
emotional power. Miss Kinharvie is handsome, ladylike, and of good
presence, and her next appearance will be looked forward to with interest.
Of the rest of the cast Mr. Reeves Smith and Mr. F. Kerr, it will be seen,
resumed their original characters. Mr. J. G. Grahame was a manly, agree-
able Douglas Winthrop, and Mr. Alfred Bishop gave one of his finished
sketches of character as Buxton Scott, the friendly lawyer who fights the
demon of misconception, and brings the young couple together again.
MAY i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 269
-..
Miss Moreland was most refined and tender as the elder Mrs. Winthrop,
and Miss Cudmore was a gentle and lovable girl as the blind Edith. Miss
Marie Linden was bright, but almost too worldly as the several times
married Mrs. Dick Chetwyn, and was really too young for the part. The
matinee was under the direction of Mr. F. H. Macklin.
" HER LADYSHIP."
New and Original Play, in three acts, by GEORGE MANVILLE FEXN.
First produce! at a Matinee at the Strand Theatre, March 27, 1889.
Stuart Gerard .. .. .Mr. LI;K;I LAUI.AIIU:.
Frederick Gerard .. Mr. BDMtTND GURNET.
John Linnell .. .. Mr. REGINALD STOCKTON.
Krjiiik Burnett .. Mr. GEORGE llAIEMONl).
Major Maine.. .. Mr. TOM F. NY E.
Lord Carboro' . . . . Mr. JOHN BEAUCHAMP.
Josiah Barclay .. Mr. W. HARQREAVKS.
Will Barclay . . . . Air. F. H. FRANCE.
Isaac Mr. PERCEVAL CLARKE.
Fisherman Dick .. Mr. SAM WHITAKER.
Inspector . .
Claire Gerard . .
May Burnett ..
Letty Gerard . .
Mrs. Barclay . .
Lady Teigne . .
Mr. WILTON HEIUOT.
Miss AMY MCN'EILL.
Miss GRACE HAKIUXGK.
Miss ELLALINE TEKI:I->.
Miss ROBERTIIA EKSKIXE.
Miss JULIA BRUTONE.
From the fact that "The Barrister" and "The Balloon," two pieces in
which Mr. Fenn had the assistance of Mr. Darnley as a collaborator, have
both proved successes, it seems a pity that the material which the author
of " Her Ladyship " had at his command was not utilised in the same way.
For it must be admitted that Mr. Fenn rendered his plot involved, and at
times difficult to follow, whilst he was constantly shifting the interest that
should have been centred on the principal characters, to side issues*
Lady Teigne, from whom we suppose the play takes its name, is not a very
important, though sketched as a most disagreeable, character ; but it is her
diamonds that bring about the trouble. She is a sort of boarder in the
house of Stuart Gerard, a gentleman very much out at elbows, who has a
money-lending friend, Josiah Barclay, that takes the opportunity of being
present at a party to sell Lady Teigne some very valuable brilliants. A Major
Maine, who is, it need scarcely be said, a disgrace to the army, sees the
jewels, and being in the direst straits for money determines to enter the
house at night and steal them. Frederick Gerard is a wild young fellow,
has enlisted in Maine's regiment, and been forbidden the house by his father.
When Maine makes the attempt to rob, and in so doing strangles Lady
Teigne, her shrieks arouse Stuart Gerard, who rushes and struggles to seize
the burglar, and rinding it is a soldier, from the uniform, imagines it is his
son. 1 he daughter Claire entering immediately after and discovering
her father with the jewels in his possession, he having taken them from
the thief, looks upon him as the criminal ; she herself, from a noc-
turnal visit paid by Maine to her sister, May Burnett, a thoughtless,
flighty young wife, lies under the imputation of carrying on an intrigue
with him, and thereby very nearly loses her own lover, John Linnell.
Through the evidence of Fisherman Dick and Will Barclay, a boy lover
of Letty Gerard's, the crime is brought home to Major Maine. May
Burnett confesses her foolish flirtation with him, and so reunites Claire
and her sweetheart.
Lady Teigne, very cleverly played by Miss Julia Brutone, soon dis-
270
THE THEATRE.
[MAY i, 1889.
appears from the seen?, in fact just as we are becoming interested in a
personage that is originally drawn. Mr. Luigi Lablache showed con-
siderable power, and Frederick Gerard was played in a manly way by
Mr. Edmund Gurney. Two of the most telling characters were those of
Josiah and Mrs. Barclay, so well were they filled by Mr. Hargreaves and
Miss Robertha Erskine. Miss Ellaline Terriss was very bright as Letty
Gerard. Mr. John Beauchamp was a dignified and kindly old nobleman
as Lord Carboro', who offers himself to Claire Gerard, sympathetically
played by Miss Amy McNeill, and Mr. Sam Whitaker drew a good picture
of an old salt as Fisherman Dick.
I think the motive is strong enough to induce Mr. Fenn to recon-
struct his play, when it might result in a success.
"THE PANEL PICTURE."
A Play, in four acts, by OUTRAM TRISTRAM.
First produced at the Opera Comique, March 28,
•Count Sinbert . . .
Lord Saltash . . .
Father Ingram, S.J
Julian Dunnresq
Jack Best, R.N". .
M. de Cavignac
Marasca
Adrian Fiore . . .
Mr. LAURENCE GREY.
Mr. NUTCOMBE GOULD.
Mr. JOHN BEAUCHAMP.
Mr. LAURENCE CAUTLEY.
Mr. J. G. GRAHAM E.
Mr. ETIENNE GIRARDOT.
Mr. HENRY BEDFORD.
Mr. HENRY V. ESMOND.
Charles . . .
Mahmoud . .
Stephen . .
Countess Sinbert
Mrs. Dashwood
Blanche Sinbert
Rose . ,
Mr. FRANK ATHERLEY.
Mr. J. HASTINGS BATSON.
Mr. W. L. BRANSCOMHE.
LADY MONCKTON.
Miss LUCY ROCHE.
Miss ANGELA CUDMORE.
Miss VIOLET CROFT.
By some strange coincidence, it almost invariably happens that when
the fate of a play is just on the balance, and it only needs the weight of a
hair to tip the beam, some unlucky line presents itself which turns the scale
and sets the audience tittering. Once this happens in a serious play,
good-bye to the chance of success; and two unfortunate sentences in "The
Panel Picture," — "What's going on in this house?" and this is "simply
and briefly— mysterious " — started the audience, for they conveyed the
incomprehensibility of the plot or of the motives which actuated the
characters.
I will try to give some idea of the story, but must confess I shall find it
difficult to make it intelligible. Countess Sinbert is married to one who
has a hatred of all Communists, and who in consequence is the more
determined to hunt down one Adrian Fiore, a son of the countess by a
previous union with an Italian. Adrian comes to the Chateau Tenebreux
to see his mother, and she takes advantage of the superstition that the
•"veiled lady," the subject of the "Panel Picture," walks at night, to dress
herself up as the ghostly visitant, and to leave the house at midnight to
give her son rendezvous in the snow. To the strange household, in which
Father Ingram does such things as surely no priest ever did before, Julian
Dumaresq, one of a band of robbers, has obtained admission as a
guest with the view of stealing the valuable Sinbert sapphires, which he
learns are hidden in a vault, the entrance to which is concealed by the
panel picture. He is anxious to learn the secret of opening this, and sets
another of his accomplices, Mrs. Dashwood, apparently a fashionable lady,
to aid him ; but eventually learns it through the countess, by threatening
.MAY i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 271
to betray the fact that Marasca,~yet another of the band, is no other ilun
her former husband, whom she supposed to be dead. Lord Saltash is a
visitor who, having his suspicions of Dumaresq, sets his native servant
Mahmoud to watch him and follow him like his shadow, and with
instructions that when the proper moment arrives, the Indian is to turn
Thug and strangle him. M. de Cavignac is a commissaire de police, whose
principal anxiety appears to be as to his personal appearance, and whose
frequent announcement that he held all the robbers (for Charles
Dumaresq's valet is also un des treize) in the hollow of his hands was
drowned in shouts of derisive laughter. Marasca has at length obtaimd
admission to the corridor leading to the vault, when Countess Sinbert is
horrified at the return of Adrian, whom she fancied had escaped on board
ship. Father Ingram takes upon himself all consequences : he places a
pistol in Adrian's hand and tells him to enter the corridor; he does so,
and we presume is molested by Marasca, for he shoots him down, and
thus gets rid of his very objectionable father. Dumaresq has been, in the
meantime, disposed of by the wily Asiatic, and Adrian gets off to the
boat waiting for him, and there is the end. But all this was not accom-
plished without the most extraordinary goings on. The various personages
ran in and out like rabbits in a warren : they went upstairs, and appeared
next moment coming in at the front door ; walking about out of doors with
four feet of snow on the ground seemed to be their favourite occupation,
though in evening dress ; resounding knocks were heard at the window,
the sounds being explained away as only the ivy tapping against the
casement. Dumaresq, who is supposed to be a man of iron nerve, shrinks
and trembles when any one suddenly enters ; Count Sinbert treats his wife
with the brutality of a ruffian ; and Blanche Sinbert, the daughter of the
house, talks alternately with a strong French accent and in the purest
English. Lady Monckton did all she could to save the piece, and if
anything could have retrieved its fortunes her magnificent telling of
the legend of the veiled lady would have done so. Miss Lucy Roche
was a very weak and colourless Mrs. Dashwood; Mr. Nutcombe Gould
was excellent as Lord Saltash, a cool, unimaginative man of the world ;
and Mr. John Beauchamp rendered impressive a character that I trust, for
the credit of human nature, is an impossible one. Mr. Laurence Cautley
was a very melodramatic villain, and attitudinised too much, besides
being a contradiction. Mr. Henry V. Esmond displayed considerable
power and feeling as Adrian Fiore, and Mr. J. G. Grahame was manly and
hearty as Jack Best.
The set of the Chateau Tenebieux, designed by Mr. Herbert Railton,
and painted by Mr. E. G. Banks, was one of the most beautiful on record,
and the piece was produced under the direction of M. Marius. "The
Panel Picture " only ran eight nights.
THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
"RUMOUR."
New Original Play, in three acts, by "JOHN STRANGE WINTER" (Mrs. STANNARD).
First produced at a Matinee at the Vaudeville Theatre, April 2, 1889.
Colonel Coles . . Mr. GILBERT FARQUHAR.
C tptain Graham . Mr. ARTHUR DACRE.
Capt. the Hon.
Marcus Oxford Mr. HERBERT SPARLING.
Captain Forrester Mr. EILLE NORWOOD.
HerrickBrentham Mr. H. H. MORRELL.
Mrs. Forrester .. Miss MARION TERRY.
Mrs. Jervis . . .. Miss GERTRUDE KINGSTON..
Mrs. Antrobus . . Miss ROSE EVELYN.
Mrs. Tratt'ord . . Miss CONSTANCE ABBOTT.
To-To Antmbus . . Miss FLORENCE WOOD.
Madge Trafford .. Miss MARY BURTON.
Barnes Mr. STEWART DAW'SON.
"John Strange Winter's" latest play, "Rumour," appears to have been
written with the motive of showing how mean and small garrison life must
be, and what a thoroughpaced scoundrel may exist under the garb of a
British officer. For surely there was never a more contemptible cur than
Captain Graham, more utterly vicious a creature than Mrs. Jervis, or a
more spiteful, backbiting old womin than Mrs. Antrobus. It is hardly to
be credited either that a colonel in Her Majesty's service can find no
better occupation than to listen to and retail all the scandalous tittle-tattle
that is poured into his ears. Against all this it must be confessed that
the first act showed elements of strength, and almost led one to hope that
a fairly good play would follow. Captain Graham is a heartless lady-
killer that has marked down for his prey Mrs. Jervis, who, like her friend
Mrs. Forrester, is a " grass widow," both their husbands being absent on
duty in Egypt. He has persuaded his victim to elope with him, and she
is on the point of leaving for the rendezvous when Mrs. Forrester lays
bare before her the consequences of her folly, not only to herself, but U>
her children, and for their sake persuades her to give up her rash deter-
mination. But in doing this the pure woman has raised up against herself
two deadly enemies. Graham, enraged at his failure, sets about the
rumour that Mrs. Forrester intended to elope with him, and Mrs. Jervis,
furious at having been baulked in her desire, now that her lover will no
longer notice her, confirms the scandal. As a consequence, Mrs. Forrester
is cut by her acquaintances ; but one true friend telegraphs to her husband to
come home at once, and on his arrival he taxes Captain Graham with spreading
the evil report, which is refuted through the clumsy artifice of a cabman's
evidence. All this takes place in public at a bazaar, where Graham, to
revenge himself on the woman who has been the cause of his baseness
being exposed, tries to shoot Mrs. Forrester, but failing this, then and
there kills himself, and Mrs. Jervis is so lost to all sense of self-respect as
to throw herself upon his corpse, crying out, " Oh, Jack ! I love you — you
only ! " We all know how good women can be, but it is difficult to
imagine that one so true and pure could consort with such an evil nature
as that of Mrs. Jervis, a character that Miss Gertrude Kingston portrayed
with great power and firmness. Miss Marion Terry, too, was thoroughly
womanly and artistic as Mrs. Forrester, but it was impossible for any
actress to render such an overdrawn part sympathetic to an audience.
Mr. Arthur Dacre was certainly as uncompromising a scoundrel as could be
conceived, and Mr. Gilbert Farquhar was to the life a kind-hearted,
meddlesome old colonel. Mr. H. H. Morrell and Miss Florence Wood
A!^A^A^A^A^^^
MR. H. SAVILE CLARKE.
" Do you know that person ?
Be not amaz'd, but let him show his dreadfullest."
" THE PROPHE'iEbS " — Beatanont & Fletcher.
FROM A PHOTOGRAPH SPECIALLY TAKEN FOR " THE THEATRE "
BV U1SUEK1 & CO., 1JKOOK STREET, HANOVER SQUARE.
MAY i, 1889.] OUR PLAY BOX. 273.
and Mr. Sparling with Miss Mary^Jurton played well as two couples of
young lovers, and Miss Constance Abbott displayed some humour as an
intriguing, scandal-loving wido*-. Much of the dialogue was weak, though
evidently intended to be smarf, and the dinoiicnieiit was quite out of
keeping with the rest of the play. Despite the applause of a very
friendly audience, in which were included H.R.H. the Pri?.ce of Wales and
Prince Albert Victor, the verdict was an unfavourable one.
"CALUMNY.'
Play, in tbm- act.-. \, i ittcn by MALCOLM \v A.TSOJT, founded on the Spanish ol Jos6 Echegaray.
First proiliu-t.i at a .Matinee at the Hhaftesbury Theatre, April 4, 1889.
Edward Fairfax .. . Mr. Kuvo«>i>. I Lord Rivington . Mr. AYLMER.
Sir Henry Fairfax
Eustace Errol
Larry
Archie Muuroi- . .
. .Mr. \\. FAISKKX.
. Mi. I-'KKI> TKHKY.
. Mr. MATTHEW Bum UK.
. Mr. Fr.ANK FAKRKN.
Servant
Lilian
Lady Fairfax
Kahette ..
Mr. C. RFMBAULT.
Miss WALLIS.
Miss ROBEKTHA EUSKINE.
Miss DAIHOLLKS.
" Calumny," written by Mr. Malcolm ^Watson, and founded on the
Spanish of Jose Echegaray, a favourite dramatist, is a most tantalising play.
We are supposed to believe that Lilian and Eustace are as pure as snow,
and yet their conduct is such as to thoroughly justify the suspicions aroused,
not only in the minds of onlookers, but in a most honourable and confiding
husband. For what can be said of a young and lovely wife, married to a
man considerably her senior, when she is having constant interviews with
his handsome adopted son ; of her visit to his studio to endeavour to pre-
vent his fighting a duel, and her concealing herself in his private room
when she hears her husband's voice, and, lastly, when that husband is at
death's door, indirectly through the young fellow, allowing the latter to
address her in terms that have all the passion of love ? This misconception
as to the purity of the two may be attributable to the original author ; how-
ever it may arise, there is no doubt that the verdict passed upon their
behaviour would be justly censorious, and the husband would be looked
upon as a wronged and injured individual. Eustace Errol is the adopted
son of Edward Fairfax, a middle-aged man that has married Lilian, who is
quite a girl. Sir Henry and Lady Fairfax have come to the conclusion that
the young people are too much together, and therefore consider it their
duty, as the world is beginning to talk, to warn their brother. Though he
cannot believe what he looks upon as " calumny," the report sows the first
seeds of jealousy in his heart. Eustace, we can only imagine, has found the
society of his benefactor's wife becoming dangerous, and so, very properly,
decides to leave the house and follow up his career as an artist. He has
been gone some time, when from an unexplained motive Fairfax determines
to have him back under his rooftree, and with his wife goes to Paris to
induce him to return. Immediately on their arrival Lilian learns that
Eustace is going to fight a duel in defence of her good name ; she goes to
his studio and entreats him to forego the encounter. In the meantime,
from the babbling of Larry, Fairfax is made aware of the coming duel,
takes it upon himself, and, being desperately wounded in it, is borne back
to Eustace's studio. At his approach Lilian conceals herself in Eustace's
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. X
274 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
inner room, and, hearing her husband's voice, she comes forth, and is, I
must think, very naturally branded by her husband as a " wanton." In the
third act Fairfax is lying at death's door, at Sir Henry's house. Eustace
forces himself into the presence of Lady Fairfax, and, though it is pointed
out to him how unseemly his presence is, he persists in remaining and will
see Lilian, to whom he pleads in lover-like fashion for forgiveness, and that
he may not be driven from her presence. She — for no other term can be
used — dallies with him, and in the midst of their almost, if not quite, lover-
like interview, Fairfax enters, and can come to but one conclusion — that
the wife whom he adored is faithless, and so dies ; Lilian uttering over his
corpse the words of cold comfort, that now at least he knows that she is
innocent.
Mr. Watson has done his work gracefully, and his writing is at times
powerful, while the lighter scenes are in a happy vein. These last were
capitally rendered by Mr. Matthew Brodie, as Larry, and by Miss Dairolles,
who was most excellent as Babette. Mr. Frank Farren was uneven, but
showed humour as Archie Munroe. Nothing could have been better than
the acting of Miss Wallis as Lilian, and of Mr. Elwood as Edward Fairfax,
who brought out to the full the attributes of the two characters. Mr. Fred
Terry, too, must be highly commended for the manner in which he por-
trayed the very difficulc character of Eustace Errol, and Mr. William Farren
and Miss Robertha Erskine rendered valuable aid. Mr. Watson's play was
preceded by " The Landlady," a new comedietta by Alec Nelson. There
is nothing very novel or striking in the story, but it is prettily told. It is
only the history of a couple of young lovers, whose future appears likely to
be jeopardised through the drunkenness of Uncle Leonidas, who, however,
having some good left in him, takes himself off to Australia. The character
is indeed only that of another but more virtuous Eccles, and was well
played by Mr. Charles Collette. Miss Mary Collette was bright and clever
as Nell, and Mr. Sydney Brough as Bob Bateman was, as usual, natural
and easy. '• Calumny " was produced under the direction of Mons. Marius,
whose stage management was excellent, and the piece was beautifully
mounted. The performance was given by Mr. W. H. Griffiths as his annual
matinee.
"MY QUEENIE."
Comedy-drama, in four acts, by H. W. WILLIAMSON.
First produced at the Vaudeville Theatre, Tuesday afternoon, April 9, 1889.
Sir William Leyton
Willie Leyton ..
€aptain Dashington
Ben Seamore . .
John Sinclair . .
Richard Dunbar
The Professor . .
Mr. ARTHUR MARCEL.
Mr. FRANK GILLMORE.
Mr. C. W. GARTHORNE.
Mr. W. HARGREAVES.
Mr. LAWRANCE D'ORSAY.
Mr. ALBERT BERNARD.
Mr. MARK KINGHORNE.
Lady Foresight .. Miss SUSIE VAUGHAN.
Miss Sutherland . ., Miss ISABEL ELLISSEN.
Queenie Miss ELEANORE LEYSHON.
Madame Dubois . . Miss DOLORES DRUMMOND.
Grannie Seamore . . Miss FANNY ROBERTSON.
Alice Miss M. BROUGH.
Mr. Williamson chose for his plot the story that has been oft told of a
young girl who, saved from a wreck and brought up as the child of a poor
man, turned out to be an heiress ; but, in the development of his play, has
introduced such novel treatment as to make his story quite fresh and
MAY if 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 275
T _
enjoyable. Queenie has been picked up at sea by Ben Seam ore, who just
at the time had lost his wife and children through some epidemic, and so
clings to the little one thus given to him as though it were his own. His
old mother, Grannie Seamore, knowing this, has concealed from him the
fact that the child had round its neck a locket by which its relations might
have been traced, and who might have claimed her. Queenie has grown
up a lovely girl, universally esteemed, and has won the heart of Willie
Leyton, but she has another admirer in John Sinclair, a worthless fellow,
who has in some way obtained such an influence over old Grannie that
she shows him the locket, and he recognises it, and knows that Queenie is
the girl that has long been sought for, and is an heiress. He determines
to marry her, and to attain his ends he brings forward a tool of his, whom
he represents to be her uncle, Richard Dunbar, and she is taken from the
•custody of those who brought her up, and has to reside with her supposed
relative. Here she has as a companion a Madame Dubois, who takes a
deep interest in the motherless girl, and, having her suspicions of Sinclair
.and his associate, keeps a watch on them and discovers their plots, and is
the means of restoring Queenie to her lover, from whom she has been
estranged through the misrepresentations of Sinclair. He is handed over to
justice for attempting the. life of his accomplice Dunbar, who he fancies has
betrayed him. This is the main plot, but there is much comic element
introduced (in the third act it must be reduced, as it becomes farcical and
absurd) through the attempts of Lady Foresight to draw Sir William Leyton
into a declaration, in which she eventually succeeds. The two middle-aged
wooers were well represented. The Professor, too, is an amusing seaside
photographer ; and there was great humour and skill shown by Mr. Albert
Bernard as Richard Dunbar, a bibulous good-for-nothing, who still retains
the outward manners of a gentleman. The more credit is due to
Mr. Bernard as, owing to the illness of Mr. Caffrey, he played the part at
thirty-six hours' notice without rehearsal. Mr. Garthorne as the typical
St. James's army man was excellent, and Miss Ellissen showed promise.
Mr. Frank Gillmore was a little stiff as Willie Leyton. Miss Leyshon was
very charming as Queenie, depicting the character with a gentle pathos
and strength that completely won her audience. Mr. Lawrance D'Orsay
\vas a fierce and uncompromising villain. Miss Dolores Drummond was
of the greatest assistance as Madame Dubois, and Miss Fanny Robertson
was excellent as the old seaside crone, Grannie Seamore. With a very
jitile alteration " My Queenie " should prove acceptable to any manager.
276 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
"DORIS."
New Comedy-Opera, in three acts, by B. C. STEPHEN-ION and ALKI:KI> C ELLIER.
First produced at the Lyric Theatre, Saturday, April 20, 1SS9.
Doris Shelton . . . . Miss ANNIE ALBU.
Lady Anne Jcrning-
hani
Mistress Sheltoii
Dolly Spigot . .
Tabitha . .
Martin Bolder. .
Miss AMY F. ACGAEDE.
Miss ALICE BARNETT.
Miss EEFIE CHAPUY.
Miss HARRIETT COVENEY.
Mr. BEN DAVIES.
Sir Philip Carey .
Alderman Shelton .
Crook . . . . . . .
Dormer
Burnaby Spigot
Serving Man .. .
Diniver
Mr. C. HAYDEN COFFIN.
Mr. J. FURNEAUX COOK.
Mr. JOHN LE HAY.
Mr. W. T. HEMSLEY.
Mr. PERCY COMPTON.
Mr. B. P. SEARE.
Mr. ARTHUR WILLIAMS, j
There will be no question raised as to the fact that in Mr. Alfred Cellier's
latest opera he has still further increased his reputation as a composer,
and that his music will be listened to with the greatest delight by amateurs
of really good composition, but whether the general and playgoing public
will be equally satisfied remains another question. So far as the first
night's verdict was concerned, it was doubtful as to the opera taken as a
whole, but the signs of disapproval were elicited, I feel sure, principally by
the poorness of the libretto furnished by Mr. Stephenson. There was an
infinite lack of humour in the telling of the story, which in itself was very
meagre, and, so far as the last act was concerned, I should think incom-
prehensible to many. Sir Philip Carey, a young cavalier, is in hiding in
the neighbourhood of Highgate Hill, he having taken part in some
conspiracy. Thither come Alderman Shelton and his wife and daughter
Doris, the latter being in love with Martin Bolder, her father's apprentice.
Sir Philip comes forth from his concealment, and, explaining his situation
to Doris, ventures to kiss her hand ; this, witnessed by Martin, makes him
jealous, but he soon becomes a staunch friend of the young cavalier when
he learns that he is engaged to Lady Anne Jerningham, a foster-sister to
Doris, and goes off to summon the assistance of his fellow-apprentices
Crook and Dormer. On their return they find that their conversation has
been overheard by Diniver, a sneaking poet and scrivener, who has sent
Tabitha to the Alderman to announce the presence of a traitor, and so
they compel him to change clothes with Sir Philip, with the result that
Diniver is taken prisoner by the guards whom the Alderman has sum-
moned. In the second act Sir Philip has for some time, unknown to the
Alderman, been acting as his journeyman, but has determined to seek his
fortunes on the Spanish main. Lady Anne has one last interview with
him, and her persuasions and those of Doris induce him to remain. Lady
Anne learns, however, that he is in danger, and the note of warning she
sends him, and in which she expresses her love, is unfortunately mistaken
by Martin for one from Doris. In his rage he gives notice to the
authorities of Sir Philip's whereabouts, but when he knows that Doris is
true to himself, he repairs the evil by dressing in Sir Philip's clothes, and
is taken prisoner for the conspirator, who in the meantime escapes along
the housetops. In the third act, a masque has been arranged in Shelton's
house, to be witnessed by Queen Elizabeth as she passes to Westminster
Abbey. Martin at all risks has returned to take part in it, and Sir Philip's
real character being discovered by the Alderman, he is giving them both
MAY i, 1889 ]
OUR PLAY-BOX.
277
•—
up to justice as conspirators, when, as the Queen advances, Doris and
Lady Anne throw themselves at her feet and sue for pardon for their lovers,
which being granted, they are^happily reunited.
Miss Annie Albu was heard to most advantage in the florid passages,
but was not quite engaging 'enough for comedy-opera. Miss Amy F.
Augarde was charming and sympathetic, and has an exquisite duet with
Sir Philip, "Tis hird that I should bid thee go," and a solo, "The Queen's
Pardon/' which gained an encore. Mr. Ben Davies's best numbers were
"I've sought the brake and bracken" and "Alt the Wealth," which were
magnificently sung, and he acted throughout splendidly. Mr. Hayden
Coffin, toD, was enthusiastically applauded for "Honour bids me speed
away," and Mr. Furaeaux Cook's " The Alderman's Song " gained a treble
encore, and is one of the most taking numbers in the opera. Mr. Arthur
Williams was good, and will no doubt work up his part, and Messrs.
Le Hay, Hemsley, and Percy Compton rendered valuable aid. Want of
space prevents my saying more of the choruses and part-songs than that
some are really gems.
The opera is splendidly mounted, the scene " Highgate Hill" being
one of the most beautiful on recDrd ; and thj masque, for its brilliancy of
colour and costume, stands unrivalled, its arrangement reflecting the
greatest credit on Mr. Charles Harris. Mr. Ivan Caryll's orchestra was
perfection.
"LANCELOT THE LOVELY; OR/THE IDOL OF THE KING."
Buries iue, in two acts, by RICHARD HENRY. Music by JOHN CROOK.
First produce 1 at the Avenue Theatre, Monday, April 22, 1889.
Arthur Pendragon
Tristram . .
Leodograunce
<iareth
Kaye .. ..
Merlin . .
Lancelot the Lovely.
Guinevere .
Lynette
Mr. ALEC MARSH.
Mr. JOSEPH TAPLEY.
Mr. A. COLLINI.
Mr. H. GRATTAN.
Mr. G. CAPEL.
Mr. E. D. WARD.
Mr. ARTHUR ROBERTS.
Miss ANNIE HALFORD.
Miss CARRIE COOTE.
Iscult
Morgan-le-Fay .
Vivien
Gawaine - . .
Bedivere . . .
Geraint
Elaine ..
Enid
Miss NELLY WOOM--ORD.
Miss SALUK TURNER.
Mdlle. VANONI.
MissHKTTiK BKNXKT.
Miss MILDRED MILDRKN.
MissF. W.K.LH.
Miss GARTHO!, \K.
Miss LLOYD.
Lovers of Tennyson need not be alarmed. "Richard Henry" has so
whimsically twisted and turned the loves of Arthur, Guinevere, and
Lancelot as scarcely to touch the Poet Laureate's beautiful legend. In
the Avenue version Lancelot is the son of Morgan-le-Fay, who has been
brought up by the naiads at the bottom of the lake, and appears as a semi-
modern masher boating-man, with an eye that no fair one can resist. The
Britons want a king, and he who draws the sword Excalibur from a rock is
at once to be proclaimed. Arthur Pendragon succeeds, while Lancelot fails,
but his mother manufactures for him an exact counterpart, and with the
aid of this he declares himself Guinevere's champion, and, defeating his
opponent, carries his love off to Castle Dolorous, from whence she is
eventually rescued by the Knights of the Round Table, who take the
castle by storm in a mock combat. Merlin is a modern prophet and
tipster, and Vivien a fascinating little enchantress, who makes love to
278
THE THEATRE.
[MAY I, 1889'.
every man in general, but Merlin in particular, though she eventually give>
her hand to Lancelo^. "Richard Henry" has written the piece for Mr,
Arthur Roberts and for that section of the
jeuncsse dorce who are his particular admirers,
and the end is certainly achieved in giving
him a part which may be elaborated to almost
any extent by h<s inventive genius. Mr.
Roberts has a very funny duet with Mdlle.
Vanoni, in which he parodies a well-known-
music-hall singer, and has some other business,
such as paying on a burlesque xylophone,
imitating the swimming man in the water
tank, &c., that produced much laughter.
Mdlle. Vanoni sings one of her special French
songs, and dances her eccentric dances. Miss
Halford has, amon* others, one very pretty
ballad, which she sang very sweetly. Mr.
Alec Marsh, who is a nob'e-looking Arthur,
joins in a charming duet with Mr. Joseph
Tapley, who has al*o a love song in which
he was encored.
Mr. E. D. Ward
showed his usual
comic power, and
Miss Carrie Coote
gained a double
encore for a very
graceful dance.
Mr. Crook's music
is unusually bright,
lively, and c itch-
ing, and some of the choruses are very
effective. Miss Sallie Turner showed plenty of
humour as the vixenish Morgan-le-Fay, and
Mr. G. Capel got a considerable amount of fun
out of the character of Kaye, " the chief con-
stable of Camelot." There is some very funny
business in the opening scene, the rock from
which the sword has to be drawn reprecenting
a " try - your - strength " machine Merlin's
sudden appearance up a trap too is quaint, as
it is also when later his double is shut up in a
rock, which is transformed into a Punch and
Judy Show. Some clever and amusing changes are also produced in the
rocks, which become automatic machines for the supply of cigarettes and
lights, &c.
The piece is very handsomely mounted, the scenery excelled, and the
MAY i, 1889.] GLANCE ROUND THE GALLERIES. 279
"--
dresses, worn by a number of fine handsome young ladies, rich and in the
most perfect taste ; they are by Alias, from designs by W. J. Houghton, an
artist of whose work I shall fcope to see more. The whole is produced
under the direction of Mr. H. Watkin, who has Mr. R. Soutar as his
stage manager. In reply to a call for "author," it was announced that
Richard Henry could not be found. CECIL HOWARD.
A Glance Round the Galleries.
MESSRS. DOWDESWELI/S GALLERIES. — Never perhaps in the annals of
Bond Street has such a deeply interesting exhibition been offered to the
public as that of the French and Dutch Romanticists now on view at these
galleries. By Romanticists are meant those men of the famous Barbizon
School who were to the classic school of that period what Wordsworth and
Shelley were to Pope and Johnson. In other words, as Mr. Henley in his
admirable preface to the catalogue says, their work " was a revolt from the.
dictates of a hide-bound, superannuated convention, and in that way an
•effort to realise new ideals, experiment with new methods, and discover and
collect a set of new materials " — in fact, an awakening to the beauty of
Nature in all her natural grace. Such is the irony of fate that these pictures,
which now, for the most part, easily fetch their thousands and tens of
thousands, scarcely brought bread and cheese to the painters when alive,
so dead was the world then to the appreciation of their genius.
To describe fully an exhibition where every picture is a priceless gem is
280 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
impossible in these columns, but the mere mention of such a galaxy of
names as those of Josef Israels, Millet, Rousseau, Troyon, Diaz, Jules
Breton, the two Maris, and Corot should be sufficient to give a notion of
what a treasure house of art is here. Never before has Josef Israels been
seen in this country in all his strength and grandeur, in all the poetic
solemnity of his genius. As we look at his pictures of peasant lite — a sad
side of that life — we seem ti be standing in the sinctuary of holy sorrow,
in the presence of bitter poverty, but poverty idealised and raised in its
spirituality to a sublimity above the state of thrones. From Israels to Corot
is like sweet music after grief, sunshine after shadows, a Shakespeare song
after King Lear. There are an ethereal grace and delicacy in his land-
scapes that justify the remark of Jules Dupre, that he painted "pour ainsi
dire avec des ailes dans le dos." Corot is Corot alone, and there is no one
with whom to compare him. The fine " Glaneuse,'" by Jules Breton, is
here in all its classic dignity and richness of tone, while of the exquisite
landscapes and figures of Millet it is impossible to speak too highly. I
would fain linger over the works of Rousseau, Troyon, and Mattys, but
space forbids
THE FRENCH GALLERY, PALL MALL — In addition to the attraction of
Meissonier and Josef Israels, Mr. Wallis has enriched his charming little
gallery with many excellent works. " Needlework," by Walter Firle, is a
happy subject beautifully painted, and the work girls seem imbued with the
genial influence of the sunlight. Mr. James Bertrand's " Lesbia " is a
welcome replica of an exquisite figure, while for excellence of minute finish
and artistic skill " Musicians at Fault," by Professor Aug. Holmberg, and
"The Pen is mightier than the Sword," by J. Weiser, are remarkable
examples. M. de Munkacsy's " Pharisee " is the finest work contributed
by this artist for some time, and "The Descent from the Cross," by J V.
Kramer, is powerful in its daring, realistic treatment. Professor K. Heffner
is represented by an interesting series of studies from Nature.
MR. THOMAS MCLEAN'S GALLERY. — In the centre of the gallery, as
befits such a work, hangs Sir John Millais' " Ducklings," simply a fair-
haired child standing somewhat stiffly up, but with a face like that of a
young angel with an aureole of golden hair, and painted with all the
master's consummate genius and power. " Retribution," by Briton Riviere,
R.A , is one of the gems here, the expression on the dog's face being inimit-
able in its humorous fear. Messrs. Edwin Elli*, John Pettie, R.A., and John
McWhirter, A.R.A., are powerful contributors to an interesting collection.
MESSRS. TOOTH AND SON'S exhibition this year is noticeable for the
excellence of its foreign pictures, which include two masterpieces by M.
Meissonier; "A Tunisian Wedding," by G. Richter, a dream of voluptuous
beauty ; " A Siesta," by Conrad Kiesel, highly decorative in treatment and
harmonious in colour; and an admirable landscape by V. Binet. An
exquisite work by Millet enhances the value of the exhibition, while " Le
Jardin du Poete," by M. de Fortuny, is alone worth going to see, it being
the finest perhaps ever seen in London. HERBERT LEE COLLINSON.
MAY i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 281
©ur.
Philothespian poem written and delivered by Frederick Upton, president,
at the Club supper, March 19, 1889 : —
Brothers and sisters of the sock and buskin !
I thought, at first, of emulating Ruskin,
And issuing to the public, part by part,
A work on " Twelve Years' Philothespian Art ! "
I told my publisher that I should try it ;
He bowed, and asked me " Who I thought would buy it ? '
I said that ''All the members of the Club wish'd it ;"
He said " 'T would ruin any one who published it ! "
Well, this presented a deterrent feature —
I could not ruin any fellow-creature :
Crush'd, I return'd to sob over my serial,
And wallow'd, weeping in the unused material ;
Sobbing I slept, and in my sleep — I dream'd,
And thro' my grief a ray of sunshine gleam'd,
Beat on my brain and woke me — wondering whether
I could nor, after all, collect together
My mass of facts, then make the Club get up a
Performance to be follow'd by a supper —
Collect the members, lull them to security
By draughts of wine — then drag from its obscurity
A loaded /<?£/;/ — then and there present it
And fire it off before they could prevent it !
And here it is. If you will stay to listen,
And seize the scintillations as they glisten,
I trust you will not chafe at your remaining,
Nor charge me with unlawfully detaining.
The origin of Philothespian Art !
Prologue B.C. 536 — Don't start !
While I admit the date is early — rather,
I promise you to take you back no farther ;
While at this end I strictly draw the line,
And mean to stop at 1889.
B.C. 536 — this side the Flood,
High on a cart our rude forefather stood,
Our good old THESPIS, happy in the fact
That on his cart he had carte blanche to act.
His plays, in settings not beyond reproach,
At least were mounted on the first stage couch.
The Play has made some progress since its start
By good old THESPIS on his travelling cart.
Through evil days and good the Drama grew,
Condemn'd by most and foster 'd but by few ;
282 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889
Actors by kings supported, then suppress'd,
At times imprisoned, and at times caress'd.
And so the Drama grew, until in time
What was ridiculous became sublime,
Until the actor, " vagabond and rogue,"
Now is our honour'd gutst, and most in vogue.
Well for the actors have their fortunes grown
Since days when mummer worship was unknown.
In course of time arose another feature
Born of the Drama, a most trying creature —
The Amateur. Why "trying "? From the fact
That he was always trying how to act !
He seized at firsr, in slavish imitation,
Actors' creations for his re-creation.
Laugh'd at, and written down, he persever'd
Till from the mass of bad some good appear'd ;
Until you find it sometimes occurs
That in the first-class club of amateurs
A piece is play'd, and play'd extremely well.
Of such a club I have a tale to tell.
While many clubs of praise are all-deserving,
The " Strolling Players," " Romany," the " Irving,"
The " Momus," " Kendal," and the " Busy Bees/'
All these are good, but far above all these
The Philothespians your affections claim
As standing foremost with a twofold claim.
Playing and feasting ! name the club can beat them,
All nnder-act, while none can over-eat them !
Therefore I give you as this evening's toast,
" The Club of all the clubs we love the most—
The Philothespians /" May it prosper long
In acting, and in appetite keep strong.
To-night may a-1 the members' dreams be good,
And may old THESPIS, in his merriest mood,
Chant sofc about each feaster's pillow — yes, paeans
In celebration of the PHILOTHESPIANS !
And now I feel I owe one word to those
Who are our guests, and so before I close,
I tell them how each year we wish to dub
All who are strangers — members of the Club ;
To see, before the last day of December,
Each single one and married one — a member !
Hunting over some old papers, I discovered an old letter from Ada
Isaacs Menken, addressed to a friend. What an excraordinary woman
she was!— "Cataldi's, 42, Dover Street, Friday a.m. To-day, Robeno,
I should like to see you if you are good-tempered, and think you
could be bored with me and my ghosts. They will be harmless to you,
these ghosts of mine ; they are sad, soft-footed things that wear my brain,
and live on my heart — that is, the fragment I have left to be called heart
Apropos of that, I hear you are married — I am glad of that ; I believe all
good men should be married. Yet I don't believe in women being
MAY ,, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 283
*~* _
married. Somehow they all sink into nonentities after this epoch in their
existences. That is the fault of female education. They are taught from
their cradles to look upon marriage as the one event of their lives. That
accomplished, nothing remains. However, Byron m'ght have been right
after all : ' Man's love is of his life a thing apart- -it is a woman's whole
existence.' If this is true we do not wonder to find so many stupid wives
— they are simply doing the ' whole existence ' sort of thing. Good
women are rarely clever, and clever women are rarely good. I am
digressing into mere twaddle from what I started out to say to you.
Come when you can get time, and tell me of our friends, the gentle
souls of air ; mine fly from me, only to fill my being with the painful
remembrance of their lost love for me — even me! once the blest and
chosen. Now a royal tigress waits, in her lonely jungle, the coming of
the King of forests. Brown gaiters not excluded. Yours through all s ages
of local degradation, INFELIX MENKEN." And to think that such a woman
could have delighted to p'ay Mazeppain cultivated undress, and was the
wife of a Prize Fighter ! John C. Heenan, who fought Tom Sayers.
The " Panel Picture " has been succeeded in the evening bill at the
Ope'ra Comique by " The Real Little Lord Fauntleroy," which, to judge
from the reception given to it on April 13 by a crowded house, has a long
and prosperous career before it. The cast is the same as seen at the
afiernoon performances, with the exception that Miss Marion Terry takes
the place of Miss Mary Rorke as Mrs. Errol. Her rendering of the part
is admirable ; indeed, she has never done herself greater justice. " Little
Lord Faunderoy" is preceded by a first piece entitled " Her Own Rival, ""
by Messrs. F. Brougtnon and Boyle Lawrence, which was very well received,
and caused much laughter, though the plot was highly improbable, and the
dialogue, too much interlarded with good thing-, tires par les cJieveux.
Ernest Arundale (Mr. J. G. Grabame) falls in love, in his native village,
with a young girl, Grace Milton (Miss Cissy Grahame), and becomes
engaged to her. He then leaves for London, where he becomes a
celebrated and fashionable painter, and forgets all about his attachment to
his youthful We-, though there is still sufficient sentiment about him to
induce him to paint her picture from memory and keep it in his studio.
Some half dozen or so of years elapse, and Grace Milton inherits a large
fortune and changes her name. She comes to London and induces Lady
Carraway (Miss Fanny Brough), with whom she is staying, to give a fancy
dress ball, to which Arundale is invited. He comes, and — having apparently
no memory either for faces or voices — fails to recognise Grace under her
disguise of Lady Teazle. He falls desperately in love with her at sight,
and persuades her to come the next day to his studio to have her portrait
painted. She comes, and though the lady and her portrait are before him
at one and the same time, he still fails to detect even a resemblance
between them. Grace worms out of him an admission that there had been.
284 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
some s'ight love passages between himself and the original of the portrait,
and a rather s idden and vehement declaration of love on his part is met
by a statement by Grace that, though she lov^s him, she insists upon his
keeping his prjmise to his village love. He agrees, with a rather bad
grace, and then he meets with his reward — which he certainly did not
-deserve — by the lady's revealing her identity. The part of Ernest
Arundale was played with only moderate success by Mr. Grabame, but
Miss Cissy Grahame was excellent as Grace Milton, playing with great
delicacy and finesse. Miss Brought, as Lady Carraway, was perfect, as
Miss Brough always is, and Mr. Nutcombe Gould, as a penniless baronet
in search of an heiress, did very well what little he had to do. The
dialogue abounded with those brilliant things which are never heard in
conversation except upon the stage, and which, if they were de rigueur in
everyday life, would reduce nine hundred and ninety-nine persons out of a
thousand to silence for the rest of their days.
Very many will hear with regret of the death of Mr. John Vollaire, who,
after treading the boards for some fifty-seven years (for he began his
theatrical career when he was but twelve years of age), died at the London
Hospital on April u, aged 69. Mr. Vollaire was born in London on
December 4, 1820, and made his first appearance in the metropolis
October 3, 1854, at the old Surrey Theatre. He had been acting in the
provinces for some twenty years, and the parts in which he achieved the
most reputation were perhaps Polonius in " Hamlet," Mo Davis in " The
Flying Scud," Peter Grice in " Nobody's Child," and he was a good Sir
John FalstafT. He was always a sound reliable actor, and though fortune
had not been kind to him he would not accept of charity, but fought the
struggle of life bravely and uncomplainedly. He experienced much kind-
ness at the hands of the manager of the Haymarket Theatre, from whom
he held his last engagement.
" Jack-in-the-Box " has met with very great success in the provinces,
and its revival at the Marylebone Theatre on April 8 proved that it was
.again most acceptable to London audiences. Great credit was due to
Miss Nellie Bouverie, who, as the ubiquitous Jack Merryweather, kept the
house in a roar with her quaint songs, sayings and doings ; her cheery
bright manner, and her banjo playing and dancing. Mr. T. H. Volt too
was excellent as Professor O'Sullivan, and Mr. Henry Dundas brought out
the cruelty and rascality of Carlo Toroni, the padrone, in a very effective
manner.
Mr. Beerbohm Tree has during the past month given us a proof of how
readily and artistically he can assume two thoroughly opposite characters.
To be able to appear and give satisfaction as the burly roystering Sir John
MAY i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 285
Falstaff in "The Merry Wives of Windsor," and as the lean starveling
romantic poet Gringoire in " The Ballad Monger " on the same evening,
constitute a feat of which any a^tor may well be proud.
Saturday, April 27, is set down for the production of Mr. Jones's new
play, " Wealth," at the Hay market, in which the author will deal with the
effects that the acquisition of money has on a certain class of character.
Mr. Beerbohm Tree plays Matthew Ruddock, and Mrs. Tree his daughter
Edith, and the strong cast includes Messrs. Macklin, Brookfield, Kemble,
Allan, Harrison, Weedon Grossmith, Hargreaves, Maurice, Percival Clarke,
Robert Harwood, and Misses Norreys, Ayrton, and Rose Leclercq. The
scene is laid partly in London and partly at a seaside village, and the
entire action is supposed to occupy about a year.
" Lena," the French adaptation by M. M. Pierre Berton and Madame
Van de Velde of Mr. F. C. Grove's dramatic version of F. C. Phillips's
novel, " As in a Looking Glass," was produced at the Variete's, on April r6,
and proved a success, especially for Mdme. Sarah Bernhardt, for whom, in-
deed, the French version was written. The other characters have bten
completely subordinated to hers, and it may be looked upon as almost a
one-part play. The novel is closely followed, though, as might be looked
for, for French audiences, the love episodes are more sensuous. Mdme.
Bernhardt's greatest scene is where she implores the forgiveness of the man
whom she has so deceived, and her subsequent death from chloral. In
this — as may be expected from the nature of the drug — -there is no struggle,
the unfortunate woman feels its power gradually creeping over her, and,
though in perfect silence, expresses, by the most eloquent and expressive
dumb show, how the end approaches, and, at length, falls dead as her hus-
band breaks into the room. With the superstition that so often attaches
to things dramatic, the name of Balfour was changed to that of Ramsay,
four signifying in French failure. M. Valbel played this part ; M. Pierre
Berton, Fortinbras ; M. Montigny, Comte Dromiroff ; and Mdlle Saryta,
Beatrice Vyse. We in England are so accustomed to be twitted with our
adaptation of foreign plays that it is pleasant to hear that other nations are
coming to us for English pieces to be produced in their languages.
" Harbour Lights " will always be looked upon as one of the best joint
efforts of Messrs. Sims and Pettitt, and bearing in mind the success it
achieved when it was produced at the Adelphi some three years ago,
Messrs. Gatti determined to revive the piece on Saturday, April 20, as their
Easter attraction. Every scene was hailed with enthusiasm, and there is
no doubt that the play will again have a long run. Mr. William Terriss
has not, for some time, done anything so well as David Kingsley, the good-
286 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
looking chivalrous sailor. Miss Millward is once more the tender loving
Dora Vane, and Miss Gertrude Kingston now assumes, with considerable
pathos and effect, the role of the unhappy Lina Nelson, originally played
by Miss Mary Rorke. Mr. W. L. Shine is the ideal of the sunny, jovial,
good-hearted British tar, Tom Dossiter (Mr. Garden's part), and has a
merry sweetheart in clever Miss Clara Jecks. A strongly contrasted but
powerful pair of villains are found in Mr. J. D. Beveridge and Mr. W. L.
Abingdon, and Mr. Charles Cartwright gives a splendid study of the jealous
Mark Helstone. H.M.S. " Britannic " and the lighthouse scenes are as well
brought out and beautiful as before, and the entire piece is splendidly
mounted and arranged.
Mr. John Coleman reopened the Olympic Theatre at " popular prices"
(pit is., gallery 6d., &c.), with Mr. Chute's version of " East Lynne," a
revival that appears always to take a hold on the public. For his heroine he
has, as Lady Isabel, Miss Rose Meller, a young actress who will make her
mark. In addition to possessing good looks and voice, there is evident
intelligence combined with earnestness and capability of expressing the
deepest feeling. Mr. Edward O'Neill, another promising actor, is good as
Levison. Miss Clarissa Ashe played very well as Afy Halijohn. Mr.
F. M. Paget was a dignified Archibald Carlyle, and Master Lionel Calhaem
was a clever Little Willie. Mr. Philip Darwin and Miss Margaret Earle
rendered valuable assistance.
A new drama, adapted (by permission) from LAs de Trefle by Mr.
Arthur Shirley, was produced at the Theatre Royal, Darlington, in March
last, and achieved a success. The characters are happily drawn, the dialogue
good, and the situations strong. The piece will probably be very shortly
seen in London. Miss Patti Rosa has been delighting the Islingtonians at
the Grand with her performance in " Bob " during a portion of the past /
month ; the part she sustains, however, in this does not do her justice. In
" Myrtle," a new three-act comedy-drama, written specially for her by Mr.
Philip Havard, and produced at the Theatre Royal, Birmingham, on
April 8, Miss Rosa has, in the title-r^, a character in which this clever
actress can give full scope to her versatility in acting, and, though the
author has laboured under the disadvantage of having to keep his principal
character constantly en evidence, he has overcome the difficulty and accom-
plished a well-balanced, interesting play, both in dialogue and situations.
The Crystal Palace afternoon and Saturday evening dramatic performances
are much appreciated, and the theatre is always well filled, thanks to Mr.
Oscar Barrett's excellent judgment in selecting the pieces that shall be played.
On Saturday evening, April 13, "The Merchant of Venice" was performed.
Mr. Hermann Vezin was theShylock, and emphasised the malignant hatred
MAY i
OUR OMNIBUS-BOX.
28
the Jew feels towards all Christians, but more particularly towards Antonio,
but does not bring into prominence the dignity of the Hebrew. It was a
fine performance. The Portia of Miss Janet Achurch was marred by
occasional indistinctness in delivery, but was otherwise interesting and
artistic. Mr. Charles Charrington was really good as Bassanio ; he looked
the character, and played with much fervour. Mr. Fred Terry, as (iratiano,
was at his best in the trial scene. Mr. Julian Cross was a rather too
sombre Antonio. Mr. John Stone spoke his lines admirably and with much
dignity as the Duke of Venice, and Mr. Arthur Lyle was excellent as the
Prince of Morocco. Mr. Arthur Wood's Lancelot Gobbo was an intellec-
tual treat, and Mr. Matthew Brodie did fair justice to the character of
Lorenzo. Miss Irene Vanbrugh was pleasing, if not very strong, as Jessica,
and has at least a good knowledge of how to deliver blank verse. The
general performance was so much approved of by the public as to be re-
peated on Tuesday, the 23rd April. Credit should be given to Mr. Julian
Cross for his good stage management and the general production of the
play. The dresses were remarkably rich and handsome.
Three years ago " Le Bivouac " was' received with such favour at the
Alhambra that the management, wisely, as events have proved, determined
to revive it on a more extended and grander scale. The naval and
military display is now called " Our Army and Navy," and the ballets have
been arranged by Signor E. Casati with some very fine tableaux, for which
M. Jacobi has composed some very bright and tuneful music, as well as
being responsible for the original conception and construction of the entire
production. The scene, which is most beautifully painted by Mr. T. E.
Ryan, represents Portsmouth, a large ironclad filling*one entire side of the
288
THE THEATRE.
[MAY i, \\
stage. Almost every branch of our services is represented. Royal Horse
Guards and Horse Artillery, Grenadier Guards and the Black Watch, the
Devil's Own (Volunteers) and Irish Fusiliers, Sailors and Naval Volunteers,
Bengal Lancers and the Royal Naval School, march past, form square, and
go through various manoeuvres, and. take part in characteristic ballets, such
as a Highland Fling, Sailor's Hornpipe, Irish jigs, English dance?, &c.
There are also sham fights and attacks, which are carried out with great
spirit. A most brilliant spectacle is afforded in the "Reception of
Nations." The different representatives of various foreign regiments appear
carrying their flags to the playing of their respective national airs, " Rule
Britannia" bringing the curtain down on a most effective and brilliant
spectacle. The uniforms of all who file before the audience are absolutely
correct, no pains or expense having been spared by Mons. Alias (who has
carried out the designs of M. Besche) to obtain the utmost accuracy of
detail, and in this he has achieved a complete success. A very elegant
little book of the principal costumes has been published by M. Alias,
and is a welcome souvenir. Miss M. Thurgate, Miss Phillips, and Mdme.
Roffey, the principal danseuses, acquitted themselves beyond reproach ; and
the Alhambra corps-de-ballet, which has for a long time rivalled the best
continental dancers, was as usual perfect. The beautiful ballet of " Irene "
still continues to be most attractive, and the rest of the entertainment at
the Alhambra is as amusing as is ever the case at this favourite place of
amusement.
Miss Muriel Wylford, who has gained an excellent reputation in the pro-
vinces as Mfs. Errol in " The Real Little Lord Fauntleroy," gave a perfor-
mance at the St. George's Hall, on Thursday, April 4, in aid of the funds
MAY i, ,SS9.] OUR OMXI/H'S-BOX. 289
^ _
of the University College Hospital, and appeared as Dora, in the late
Charles Reade's pastoral play of that name. Her performance was notice-
able for its grace and womanliness, it was sympathetic and tender, and
combined with it a strength of character that was very praiseworthy. Miss
Wyltbrd was ably supported by Mr. George Capel as the obstinate, rugged
Farmer Allen, and by Mr. Charles Vane, who was remarkably good as Luke
Bloomfield. On the same evening Mr. Alfred Capper appeared, for the
first time, in the original monologue, written for him by E. F. Turner, en-
titled "Chopper's Wedding Morn." The unfortunate Chopper, who is
discovered preparing for his bridal, is suddenly disconcerted by the appear-
ance, at the opposite window, of a man who has threatened him with
condign punishment for jilting a former flame. Chopper is not brave and
so determines to escape, and that he may avoid detection he proceeds to
shave off his lovely moustache, and has just sacrificed one long, " windy :>
whisker, when a note is handed to him from his first lady-love, saying that
she is going to wed the man of her choice and has rto thought of uniting
herself with a chimpanzee. However, as a man cannot appear at the altar
with only one whisker, he is compelled to divest himself of the other, and
the curtain falls on his bewailing the loss of his cherished " hirsute appen-
dages." Mr. Capper rattled through the sketch in a manner that caused a
very great deal of laughter, and showed no mean talent as an actor.
Mr. E. J. Lonnen has become such a favourite with the public that it
was no wonder that every seat in the house was filled on the occasion of
his matinee at the Gaiety Theatre on April i. There is no need to go
into the programme, a very long one, further than to say that Mr.
Lonnen resumed his character 01 Claude Frollo in the first act of
" Esmeralda," and appeared as the " Dougal " cratur (E. W. Royce] in
F. C. Burnand's burlesque of " Robbing Roy ; or, Scotched and Kilt."
Mr. Edward Terry once more filled the title-rd/e, originally played by
him November IT, 1879, and was supported by E. W. Warde, Rashleiga
Osbaldistone (W. Elton} ; Sir Frederick Vernon, Sant Mathews (T.
Squire} ; Frances Osbaldistone, Miss Fanny Robina (Miss E. Farreii);
Helen Macgregor, Miss Maria Jones (Miss Edith Bruce) • Diana Vernon,
Miss Emma Broughton (Miss Kate Vaughan) : Captain Thornton, Miss
Maud Hobson (Miss Wadman} ; Major Galbraith, Miss L. Delphine (Miss
Connie Gilchrist] ; Martha, Miss Minnie Ross (Miss R. St. George] •
McStewart, Miss R. Robina (Miss Louis] ; Hamish, Miss Brickwell (Miss
Jenny Rogers] ; Robert, Miss Lonnen (Master Griffin], The names
printed in italics arerthose of the original cast. Miss Brickwell and Miss
Lonnen, two very small children come of a dramatic stock, made their
first appearance on any stage. Mr. Terry was as amusing as ever as a
burlesque actor, and showed that his now long absence from such parts
had not in the least affected his eccentric dancing or his capacity for broad
humour.
NEW SERIES.— VOL. XIII. Y
2 QO THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
Mr. Leo Thomas, the president of the " Bons Freres " Club, which is
composed of a number of gentlemen well-known for their hospitality and
for the excellence of their dinners, gave a "Dramatic Sapper" on April n,
at the Cafe Royal, to which were invited a host of theatrical celebrities, as
a very small return for their kindness in enteitaining the club at all times.
Mr. Thomas made some capital speeches, and proposed the toast of "The
Drama," to which Mr. Wilson Barrett most humorously responded. Mr.
Lai Brough replied for the honorary members equally happily, and Mr.
H. B. Reed, M.P., for "The Visitors."
" Woodbarrow Farm," Mr. Jerome K. Jerome's clever play, produced at
a matinee at the Comedy last year, is to be translated into Dutch by Mr.
Jack T. Grein, and performed in Amsterdam; and "Bachelor's Quarters,"
Mr. Fred Homer's English adaptation oi "La Gargonniere," is to be done
in German in Berlin.
Mr. H. Savile Clarke, who had seen a] good deal of medical practice
before he took to journalism, wrote first for the " Edinburgh Courant,"
during Mr. James Hannay's editorship. He^has written many hundreds
of leaders and other articles for§ London, country, and American papers,
and been a contributor to the "Standard, "Globe," "St. James's Gazette,"
the "World," "Truth," "Illustrated London News," "Graphic,"
" Punch," and many other journals, and innumerable magazines. He is
editor of the "Court Circular," and L London dramatic critic of the
"Scotsman." Mr. Savile Clarke's fplays are "Love Wins" and "A Fight
for Life," written in collaboration with^Mr. Du Terreau, "Pendarvon" with
Mr. Watson, and "Another Drink" with Mr. Lyne. His independent
productions are "That Beautiful Biceps," "A Tale of a Telephone,''
"The New Rip Van Winkle," "JA Lyrical Lover/' "An Adamless Eden,"
"Gillette," "The Inventories," and "Alice in Wonderland," the stage
version of Mr. Lewis Carroll's stories.
I think it better to give an exact copy of Miss Ellaline Terriss's letter
sent to me in reply to inquiries as tocher theatrical experience: — "You
set me a difficult task to give you any particulars of my theatrical career,
for" it is so short at present. But^if it prove interesting and worthy of jour
acceptance, I will try and send; | you an 'account of how I went upon the
stage. My father was always', indifferent as to whether I became an
actress or not, for he was always^saying, ' Why do you want to work ?
I have enough and more than enough for all your wants. Enjoy your
life. I'll give you whatever you wa.it.' But somehow I was net satisfied
— I was for ever craving} to act— and I was barely sixteen when Mr.
Calmour, who. wrote the 'Amber Heart' and named the title-ro/<? after me,
proposed that we should surprisejny father one day and play in our little
drawing-room his play, 'Cupid's Messenger,' and that I should Lustain
MAY i, 1889.] OUR OM\inUS-BOX. 20,1
**"•?
the leading part. So we had a brass rod fixed up in the room, and made
a stage, and on the preceding night informed a few friends of the morrow's
performance. I need scarcely (say that it greatly surprised my father, who
laughed, and I daresay secretly was pleased, though he pretended not to
be. We obtained all the dresses ; and the performance, with the aid of
impromptu footlights, viz , oil lamps, and the piano outside for the
orchestra, was a great success. However, a couple of months passed,
and I heard that Miss Freake was engaged at the Haymarket to play the
part I had sustained. Oh ! how I wished it was me, and little did I think
my wishes so near fulfilment. I was sitting alone over the fire (it was last
January, 1888), when a telegram was handed to me. It ran thus : '6.30.
Haymarket Theatre. Come up at once; play "Cupid's Messenger" to-
night at 8.' First I was struck with astonishment. However, nothing
daunted, I snatched an old book of the piece up from the escritoire,
rushed to catch the train, and found myself at the stage-door of the theatre
at 7.15. All was hurry and excitement. I didn't know ho\v_to make up,
who I was going to play with, where the curtains were, and Miss Freake's
dress was too big for me. It all seemed like a dream. I heard the
orchestra strike up, the curtain rose; but all things have an end, and so
had my first appearance. The actors and actresses were scarcely aware
even that Miss F. was not playing, for not a minute had we for rehearsal.
However, I am happy to say Mr. Tree stood by and saw me p^ay, and I
secured the honour of a call. I played it for a week, and Mr. Tree gave
me a five-pound note, and, what was appreciated much more, a sweet
letter of thanks, which I shall ever hold .with feelings of the happiest. My
father then said, ' Ellaline, if it will make you happy, go on the stage ; I
will get you an engagement.' My wish was fulfilled, and Mr. Charles
Wyndham engaged me for three years ; so you see where there's a will
there's a way. That's how I went on the stage, and I have since played
Ada Ingot in ' David Garrick ' at matinees during Miss Mary Moore's
indisposition, and also Lotty, one of the ' Two Roses,' &c., and I never
wish to be with a kinder manager than Mr. Wyndham, whom I have been
with a year. I am now appearing in 'The Balloon,' and return to the
Criterion in the autumn."
The following particulars of the Garrick Theatre, built for Mr. John
Hare, cannot fail to be of interest : — The style of this theatre is classic.
The whole of the Charing Cross Road front, to the extent of about
140 feet, is executed in Portland and Bath stone. The theatre is
entered on the dress circle level, which is reached after passing through
the outer vestibule by a large inner vestibule, which will afford accom-
modation for lounging and as a promenade between the acts. Fiom
this, by a staircase on either side, the stalls are entered, and from it,
by a staircase, the foyer level, with its refreshment saloon and smoke room,
is approached. The saloon on the foyer opens on to a broad balcony
292 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
facing on to Charing Cross Road, the balcony being covered with an arcade.
The floor of the outer vestibule is laid in mosaic, and that of the entrance
hall and saloons in parquetry, and they are surrounded by dados of
polished walnut, in panels, the upper part of the walls being divided by
marble pilasters, the panels thus formed being filled with mirrors and
decorations in relief. The ceilings are of a highly ornamental character,
the who'e of these decorations being in the Italian Reraissance style. To
every part of the house there are two separate means of exit, ten in all.
The construction of the theatre is fireproof, and is arranged on the same
system as that adopted by Mr. Emden, the architect, in Terry's and the
Court theatres, by which the columns, always a great source of annoyance
to the sight-seeing public, are entirely avoided. The Prince's room is
entered, from the Charing Cross Road front, by a separate entrance, after
passing through a small lobby. His retiring room is in similar colours to
those of the auditorium, the walls being covered with Chinese papers, and
hangings with decorations in the Chinese style. The house consists of
four tiers, pit and stalls, dress circle, upper circle, and gallery, and will
hold about 1,500 persons. The auditorium is decorated in Italian Renais-
sance, the ornamental work being in high, bold relief; the proscenium
opening is formed by groups ot columns on either side of the first pros-
cenium box, the general form of the theatre being after that of the Covent
Garden, with four openings forming a square, supporting, in their centre,
a circular dome. The box front of the dress circle tier is divided by
groups of cupids, supporting shields crowned with laurels, each shield bear-
ing the name of a celebrated author. The lighting is by electricity, supple-
mented by gas in case of accident ; there being no sun-light, all the lighting
in the ceiling is round the dome itself. The whole of the auditorium is
heated with hot water, on the Canadian system, introduced into England
by Mr. Cowan. The ventilation is carried out by self-acting exhausts.
The decoration of the house is white with gold ground, by which the orna-
mental woik is well thrown into strong relief, the ground colour being a
cherry red. The walls round dreis circle and stalls are hung with cherry
coloured red silk, the pit walls being covered with Japanese paper of
cherry coloured red and gold, and the upper circle and the rest of the
house being decorated in the same colour. The box rests are in cheny
coloured red satin. The pit seats are of a new kind, to lift up and with
arm rests to each seat, and arranged so as to take the hat, coat, umbrella
and programme. They have been manufactured by Messrs. Lazarus and
Son, of Curtain Road, the patentees with Mr. Farini. The stalls are seated
with lounge chairs, with padded backs, circular on plan, covered in the
same cherry coloured red silk as are the dress circle, the other seats in
the house being covered in material of a similar colour. There is no fire-
proof curtain in the theatre, Mr. Hare having decided to omit it. The
theatre is well -provided with fire appliances. The stage is ventilated with
large exhausts in the fireproof roof over it, which also provide for drawing
off the smoke and fumes in the event cf a fiie. There is accommodation for
MAY i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-IK >X. 293
~J? _
both ladies and gentlemen to every part of the house, with cloak rooms and
lavatories, and every convenience. The stage, also, is fitted with two sepa-
rate exits, the proscenium opening is 30 feet, and the stage about 40 feet
in depth. The dressing rooms are in a separate block, and are provided
with every convenience, hot and cold water, and baths for the use of the
artists. The theatre is large enough to accommodate drama as well as
comedy, it stands almost isolated and can be approached from three sides.
It has been erected from the designs of Mr. Walter Emden, and the work
has been carried out by Messrs. Peto, the decorat'ions by Messrs. Highway
Kusel and Depree, and the furnishing by Messrs. Gregory.
Saturday, April 6th, saw the last London performance of " Dorothy," it
having been played 931 times consecutively. Miss Erne Chapuy appeared
as the heroine. The house was crowded, the opera was enthusiastically
received, and author, composer, conductor, and principals were honoured
with repeated calls.
The opening of the Garrick Theatre on Wednesday, April 24, 1889, was
a stupendous success. So perfect were all Mr. Hare's arrangements that
everything before and behind the curtain went as smoothly as if the whole
machinery had been running for weeks. A brilliant gathering attended the
premi^re^ and all admired the rich, yet chaste, appearance of the house,
and was loud in praise of the civility and courtesy of the attendants.
Unfortunately, it is impossible in this number of THE THEATRE to afford
that space to the notice of Mr. A. W. Pinero's new play, "The Profligate,"
which such a truly powerful and most interesting piece demands. It will
therefore be treated at length next month. The following lines, which
appear on the programmes, give the keynote to the author's plot : —
" It is a good and soothfast saw ;
Half-roasted never will be raw ;
No dough is dried once more to meal,
No crock new-shapen by the wheel ;
You can't turn curds to milk again,
Nor Now, by wishing, back to Then ;
And having tasted stolen honey,
You can't buy innocence for money."
The redemption of a man who has wofully sinned is worked out by the
purity of a woman's love, and perhaps never has a more human play been
written to illustrate it. The cast included Mr. John Hare, Messrs. Lewis
Waller, S. Brough, Dodsworth, R. Cathcart, Hamilton Knight, Mesdames
Gaston Murray, Beatrice Lamb, Olga Nethersole, Caldwell, and Mr. Forbes
Robertson and Miss Kate Rorke. The two latter fairly electrified and held
the audience by the perfection of their acting, nor could anything but praise
be awarded to the rest of the performers in their several roles.
294 1HE THEATRE. LMAY i, 1889.
Mr. J. L. Toole reopened his theatre in King William Street on Easter
Monday with "The Don" and " Ici on Parle Frangais." It need scarcely
be said that the reception of the favourite comedian was most cordial ;
indeed, it was almost affectionate. Mr. Toole has some novelties in pre-
paration, but his present programme is so thoroughly enjoyed that it appears
very doubtful whether there will be any occasion to change it for weeks to
come.
This evening, Wednesday, May i, will see the premiere of "Tenter
Hooks," new farcical comedy, in three acts, by H. M. Paull. Messrs.
Marius, C. H. Hawtrey, W. F. Hawtrey, T. G. Warren, A. G. Andrews,
and Harry Nicholls, and Mesdames Vane Featherstone, Susie Vaughan,
and Lottie Venne will be included in the cast.
New plays produced, and important revivals, in London from March 21
to April 24, 1889 : —
(Revivals are marked thus *)
Mar. 22.* "L?s Surprises du Divorce," three-act comedy, by MM.
A. Bisson and A. Mars. French Plays. Royalty.
„ 26.* " Young Mrs. Winthrop," play in three acts, by Bronson
Howard. Matine'e. Terry's.
,, 27. " Her Ladyship," new three-act play, by George Manville Fenn.
Matine'e. Strand.
„ 27. "Merry Margate," farce in three acts, by Sydney Grundy.
Comedy.
„ 28. "The Panel Picture," play in four acts, by Outram Tristram.
Opera Comique.
„ 28. " Love and Art ; or, the Artist's Ghost," one-act play, by Alfred
A. Wilmot. New Lyric Hall, Hammersmith.
April i.* " Robbing Roy ; or, Scotched and Kilt," burlesque, by F. C.
Burnand. Matine'e. Gaiety.
„ i. " Pepa," three-act comedy, by MM. Meilhac and Ganderau.
French Plays. Royalty.
„ i. "A Real Lady Macbeth," farce, by Edward Copping. Park
Hall, Camden Town.
„ 2. "Rumour," new play in three acts, by John Strange Winter
(Mrs. Stannard). Matinee. Vaudeville.
„ 2. " Romany Lore," operetta ; music by George F. Vincent. St.
George's Hall.
„ 4. " The Landlady," new comedietta, by Alec Nelson. Matine'e.
Shaftesbury.
„ 4. " Calumny," play in three acts, written by Malcolm Watson, and
founded on the Spanish of Jose Echegaray. Matinee
Shaftesbury.
MAY i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 295
April 4.* " Dora," pastoral plapin three acts, by Charles Reade. St.
George's Hall.
„ 5.* "Tartuffe," comedy in five acts, by Moliere. French Plays.
Royalty.
„ 8.* " Jack-in-the-Box," melodrama in four acts, by Geo. R. Sims
and Clement Scott. Marylebone.
„ 8.* " Mdlle. de Belle-Isle," five-act drama, by Alexandre J )umas,
pe're. French Plays. Royalty.
„ 9. " My Queenie," new comedy- drama in four acts, by H. VV.
Williamson. Matinee. Vaudeville.
„ ii. "A Broken Sixpence," play, by Mrs. Thompson and Miss
K. Sinclair. Ladbroke Hall.
„ ii. "A Laughing Philosopher," one-act play, by "Re Henry."
Ladbroke Hall.
„ 13. " Her Own Rival," one-act comedietta, by Fred Broughton and
Boyle Laurence. Opera Comique.
„ 15."* "The Silver King," five-act drama, by H. A. Jones and
H. Herman. Princess's.
,, 20.* "Le Monde ou Ton s'ennuie, by M. Pailleron. French Plays.
Royalty.
„ 20.* " Les Femmes Nerveuses," by MM. Ernest Blum and Raoul
Toche. French Plays. Royalty.
„ 20.* "The Harbour Lights," by G. R. Sims and Henry Pettitt.
Adelphi.
„ 20. " Doris," new comedy-opera in three acts, written by B. C.
Stephenson, and music by Alfred Cellier. Lyric.
,, 22. "Lancelot the Lovely; or the Idol of the King," new and
original burlesque, written by Richard Henry, music composed
by John Crook. Avenue.
„ 24. "The Profligate," new and original play in four acts, by A. W.
Pinero. Garrick.
In the Provinces, from March 18 to April 10, 1889 : —
Mar. 20. " The Captain of the Vulture," five-act drama, by Joseph Lewis
and the late Henry Falconer. (Produced for copyright pur-
poses at Swindon, November 6, 1888.) Royal, Warrington.
„ 22. "Ace of Clubs," four-act melodrama, by Arthur Shirley.
Royal, Darlington.
„ 25. " Girouette," comic opera in three acts, music by M. Casdes,
libretto by MM. Hennery and Bocage, English adaptation by
Robert Reece. T.R., Portsmouth.
„ 30. "Cupid's Frolic," dramatic incident, by Wilford F. Field.
Vestry Hall, Ealing.
April i. " Chickabiddies," burlesque extravaganza. Opera House,
Datwen.
296 THE THEATRE. [MAY i, 1889.
April i. " Bright Days ; or, the Bride of Two Isles," mus;cal comedy-
drama in four acts, written by Horace Wheatley and C. A.
Aldin. Rotunda, Liverpool.
„ i. " The Fenian," new romantic four-act drama, by Hubert
O'Grady. Princess's, Glasgow.
„ 8. " Myrtle," three-act comedy-drama, by Philip Havard. T.R.,
Birmingham.
„ 10. " Our Flat," comedy in three acts, by Mrs. Musgrave. Winter
Gardens Theatre, Southport.
In Paris, from March 18 to April 16, 1889 : —
Mar. 22. "Mes Anciennes," " folie-vaudeville " in three acts, by MM.
Hippolyte Raymond and Jules de Gastyne. Varietes.
„ 24. "Le Chateau Yquem," comedy in one act, by M. William
Busnach. Gymnase.
April 3.* " Les Pommes du Voisin," farcical comedy in three acts, by
M. Victorien Sardou. Theatre Cluny.
„ 8. " Les Maris sans Femmes," comedy-vaudeville in three acts, by
M. Antony Mars. Menus-Plaisirs.
,, 9. " Revoltee," four-act comedy, by M. Jules Lemaitre. Odeon.
,, 13. "Monsieur ma Femme," farcical comedy in three acts, by
M. Adrien Barbusse. Palais Royal.
„ 15.* "Maitre Guerin," five-act comedy, by M. Emile Augier.
Theatre Fran^ais.
.„ 1 6. "Lena," play in four acts, dramatised in French by M. Pierre
Berton and Mdme. Van de Velde from " As in a Looking
Glass." Varietes.
THE THEATRE.
A Critic on the Criticised.
$ HE other day I came across, in a small and somewhat
bumptious newspaper called " The Playgoer," a
pregnant passage that in a short space contains a
vast amount of truth, and by accident gives me a
text on which to discuss a subject that is interesting
to all of us, now that the stage is said to be sa
interesting, and the profession of acting claims so much of our
attention. It is this : —
"The recent theatrical libel cases and their results have
naturally caused a nutter in the critical dovecots. Even as
it is, social and advertising influence makes it very difficult
indeed for the public to obtain a really truthful and out-
spoken press opinion upon theatrical matters ; but if judges
and juries are going to fine a paper £1,000 or so (for £200
damages means quite £1,000 before costs are paid and the
matter ended) every time the criticism is not sufficiently soapy
to suit the ideas of the actor, then newspapers had better give
their dramatic critics the sack, and leave the acting managers
to write their own notices, and charge for their insertion as per
advertisement scale.
" In the case of Mr. Walter Bentley, described in the reports
of his case against the * Belfast News Letter ' as an actor, the
writer, Mr. F. Moore, seems to have been convicted, to the
satisfaction of the jury, of malice ; and, if malice was the cause
of Mr. Moore's adverse notice, then his punishment was well
deserved. For a critic to allow personal malice against an
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIIT. Z
298 THE THEATRE. JUNE i, 1889.
actor or an author to influence, in the slightest, his pen would
"be a shameful abuse of his position, and should entitle the
victim to the heaviest damages. But, speaking generally, we
do not believe malice does often influence a notice. It is an
accepted theory among actors and actresses that every adverse
notice of themselves is prompted by personal malice against
them on the part of the writer. When an actor or actress
reads a criticism in which they are not excessively praised,
their first thoughts always are : * Who wrote that ? And what
nave I done to oifend him r ' As a matter of fact, whatever
unjust criticism personal feeling may be responsible for, is of
the unjust praise rather than of the unjust blame order. Often
and often does friendship for the artist make a critic say kind
things when he ought to say severe ones ; but it is very rare
indeed that enmity will cause him to say severe things when
truth should compel him to write kindly."
Now, except for the purpose of arriving at the truth, I have
no special object in quoting, or advertising, the opinions of this
always clever but frequently mistaken little print. Mr. Sydney
Grundy, Avho is a comical cynic, has got it into his head
that "The Playgoer" was instituted for the sole purpose ot
endorsing my objectionable and heretical opinions. "In that
-anxiety to agree with Mr. Clement Scott which so amusingly
pervades every issue of your independent paper," writes
Mr. Sydney Grundy, smarting under the withdrawal of
" Merry Margate," which he never dreams of attributing to its
failure to attract public attention, or to the fact that the public,
by whom he is universally admired, did not take kindly to this
particular farce. The public voice, according to Mr. Grundy, has
nothing to do with the matter; the first-nighters are wholly
free from blame. " To them I owe the satisfaction of having
.survived the most protracted crusade (sic) — extending now over
seventeen years — which the most influential critic of the day
has felt it his duty to wage against any playwright." There lies
the root of the whole grievance. The play was all right ; it
might have succeeded, but that wretched critic and his
" crusade " were too much for " Merry Margate." Fancy the
position taken up by a hard-headed, sensible man like Mr.
Grundy. One critic, according to his wholly untenable theory,
is able to sway, bias, and influence the millions of playgoers
i, 1889.] A CRITIC~jON THE CRITICISED. 209
-who have admired and applauded many a time and oft the
brilliant work of Mr. Sydney Grundy. The play was good
enough; how could it fail to be otherwise? It was all that
detestable " critic " and his " motive." How easily these head-
strong authors forget ! There was nothing said about a
"•crusade" when the "Arabian Nights" was conscientiously
recommended to public attention, and .was duly endorsed by
the public voice. Though " protracted for seventeen years," it
was, if the truth be told, suddenly arrested whenever Mr. Grundy
wrote a successful as well as a clever play. Authors speedily
forget all the kind things said about them ; they remember only
too bitterly the unpalatable truth that a conscientious critic is
bound to put on record. All Mr. Grundy' s brilliant comedies,
all his excellent adaptations, all his Adelphi melodramas,
cordially and enthusiastically recommended to the public atten-
tion, are speedily forgotten. One of his obvious " pot boilers"
has not turned up trumps ; so he is henceforth the victim of a
•"protracted crusade that has lasted seventeen years." Well
may "The Playgoer" in its editorial notes say, "As for our
.anxiety to agree with Mr. Clement Scott in every issue, that is
indeed funny." Did Mr. Sydney Grundy ever take the trouble
to buy or read No. i of " The Playgoer," wherein, from the con-
stant repetition of my detested name, I fondly believed that
yet another journal had been started for the sole purpose
•of amusing itself and its readers at my expense. How often
liave I felt like the philosophic coalheaver whose wife was
belabouring his brawny shoulders : " Let 'er bide ! It pleases
she, and doan't hurt I." At least half a dozen apparently
-earnest and enthusiastic little prints, and many more scurrilous
sheets, have, in the course of my experience, started a " crusade"
—not against poor Mr. Sydney Grundy — but against the critic
who is so obnoxious to him. But they are all dead and buried,
•or they kept on harping on the same string with such " damnable
iteration " that their readers got sick of the stale old tune and
protested against what seemed like public spirit, but looked to
them suspiciously like malice. Most of their editors or more
violent contributors departed to more congenial climes, for the
benefit of their health or because old England became too hot
to hold them, or went into exile, or generously held out the
•" olive branch," and the hardened old crusader lives on the
300 THE THEATRE. QONE i, 1889, '
object of the adulation of actors, actresses, and authors, provided-
their work is good and successful, the object of their hate, their
malice, their execration, and their anonymous letters whenever
their work happens to fail, as occasionally it must do. As to
" The Playgoer," I always thought it was started in the interests
of certain misguided and hot-headed young gentlemen who
desired to show their " independence," or their " liberality,"
or their " fair play," or whatever it may be called, by publicly
hissing in a place of public entertainment a writer for printing
comments of which he was absolutely innocent ; for assuming,
without any evidence whatever, that a journalist had held views
utterly detrimental to his opinions and artistic policy, and
would even consent to be the slave of a clique ; and for following
an unarmed man in a compact mass with sticks and threats-
for assuming that very independent and critical and earnest
tone which, so far as I can see, is the raison d'etre of " The
Playgoer."
But, on that score, let bygones be bygones. When the
accused, who was judged and condemned without trial, was
allowed by these generous young gentlemen — who do not
hesitate to threaten with violence an unarmed man — to defend
himself, he was honourably acquitted of doing more than he con-
scientiously believed to be his duty. But " The Playgoer " has
hit the right nail on the head as to " motive." My experience is
this — that in the dramatic profession no article, good or bad, was
ever written to which " motive " of some kind was not ascribed
by the fretful and ungenerous. Is the notice good and lauda-
tory: How much chicken and champagne has the sycophant
swallowed ? How many favours has he received ? How many
plays has he got accepted r How many diamond rings has he
taken to the pawnbrokers ? Is the notice bad : How much
chicken and champagne has he asked for and been refused ?
How many favours has he sought and been shown the door ?
How many bribes has he demanded and been denied, to his
personal chagrin and mortification r
Mr. William Winter's remarks on this subject of " motive," in
reply to Mr. Dion Boucicault's public execration of the press
that originally applauded his maiden work and subsequently
assisted his great public reputation, are well worth quoting :—
" Critics may differ in feeling and in taste, but they finally
JUNE i, i889.] -4 CRITIC ON THE CRITICISED. 301
•concur as to the essential fact ; and when they do agree, as
remarked by Mr. Puff, their unanimity is wonderful. With
reference to the charge of dishonesty on the part of the press, those
who make the charge should take care to prove it. This they
never do. Mr. Boucicault himself, for example, has been giving
forth dark intimation any time within the last ten or twelve
years as to his dexterity in having captured * a conspicuous
critic ' on the New York press, with a .' bait ' which, to use his
own elegant expression, * had a hook in it.' But this mysterious
censor deals almost always in vague generality and innuendo.
The ' conspicuous critic ' is never named. Perhaps his name is
Mrs. Harris. Against Mr. Boucicault' s weapon of shameful
insinuation, however, I place Mr. Boucicault's own words, written
in one of those rare moments when he has chosen to be explicit.
On Saturday, March 8, 1873, at the Clarendon Hotel, New York,
Mr. Boucicault wrote and signed the following statement,
which was duly published : — * 1 r never paid a farthing for a favour
from the press, and I never ivilly and in candour I am bound to say
that if I offered it I am sure it woitld be regarded as a gross insult.' "
One of the strangest arguments in favour of "motive" is
based on the prevalent and most erroneous idea that a critic who
sees innumerable plays and acting of various and varied excel-
lence is bound to " take up " author, actor, or actress, and to go
in for that favourite thick and thin, good or bad, whatever the
play, whatever the performance. At the public school at which
I was educated this system of " taking up " was prevalent. A
small boy knew a big boy at home, he was recommended to his
care, he walked out with him, and visited his study, and as a
proof of this superior patronage the big boy constituted himselt
the champion of the younger one, thrashed his enemies, fought
his battles, established himself as his protector, and in nine cases
out of ten made him hated by his companions, and as a rule
intolerably conceited. By some unwritten law this same rule 01
protection is supposed to apply to the critics and the criticised.
A successful and clever play is produced. " How can I ever
thank you for what you have done for me ? " A failure follows.
•" You are leading a crusade against me ! " A young actress
comes to the front, and is cordially encouraged. u Words cannot
express my thanks to you/' She does not profit by the praise,
becomes careless, puffed up, conceited, affected, what not. So
302 THE THEATRE. UUNE i, 1889-
she bitterly exclaims, " You liked my acting once ; what on.
earth have I done to offend you ? " An actor distinguishes him-
self in a part that suits him, and he is warmly praised for a
remarkable performance. He is supposed to be the personal idol
of the critic. He plays another part which he does not seem
even faintly to understand, whereupon his friends execrate the
very name of the abominable retrograde who has " turned round"
on the unfortunate fellow, and fill his letter-box with filthy and
scurrilous anonymous letters. Although the critic gives his
reasons for every word he utters, which are intelligible enough to
the outside world, there is some " motive " in what he has done,
and he is forthwith the victim of spiteful suggestion and wholesale
misrepresentation. It is never conceived possible, for instance,
that any one mind can delight in the Louis XI., and Matthias, and
Eugene Aram, and Vanderdecken of Mr. Henry Irving, and not
be so cordial over his Romeo and Othello ; that the same pen can
praise without stint the Susan and the countless brilliant comedy
characters of Mrs. Kendal, and conscientiously object to her
Rosalind ; that Mr. John Hare can possibly be superlatively
good as Sam Gerridge or Beau Farintosh, and open to fair criti-
cism as Touchstone ; that Mr. Wilson Barrett can be a Mercutio
of surpassing" interest, and a Hamlet in whom there is very slight
interest at all ; that, to come down to minor instances, the Lewis
Wallers, and Olga Nethersoles, and Janet Achurches of to-day
can be very reasonably and justly applauded for one perform-
ance, but as conveniently and fairly objected to in another.
This is evidently not the opinion of " The Playgoer," or its
young superficial friends, if I may judge by the following
passage : — "Many of our contemporaries are apparently surprised
at the rather sudden change of attitude adopted by the * Daily
Telegraph' towards Mr. Lewis Waller. We are not. The
systematic gush which < our largest circulation ' had spent over
this * rising young actor ' had gained for Mr. Waller the un-
enviable title of the ' Daily Telegraph ' favourite, and it was
more than time, if- the notices were to be of any value, that the
soap was rinsed off. It hardly required a Niagara though."
Civil and elegant, is it not r
And on this last point one word more ; for it will show where,
we stand in these days when we are supposed to have shaken
off the old " Adam," and when actors and actresses are such
JUNE i, 1889.] A CRITIC ON THE CRITICISED. 303
patterns of courtesy, goocftaste, and high breeding. A young
actor comes to the front by his own personal energy and intelli-
gence. He is well looking, well educated, and has studied the
art of elocution. It is a sincere pleasure to encourage him.
Step by step he improves. Each part he takes he gets further
and further up the ladder. Neither he nor his friends object to
see him praised; they are delighted to find that he is en-
couraged. In fact no praise can be too excessive, for, as Tom
Robertson — who knew something about his fellow-actors — used
to say, no actor or actress thinks that " a notice " is really a
good one unless they, solely and individually, are selected for
praise, and every one of their companions in the play is severely
blamed! They want it all to themselves. It is decidedly a
" bad notice " for Harry when Tom or Dick get a word. Miss
Portia throws down the paper in a pet, when it is assumed that
Nerissa could possibly have played her part even fairly. But
then comes the crux. A time comes when, for some cause or
other, the part does not suit the actor, or he does not appear to
grasp its complete meaning. The task may be an extremely
difficult one and a trying test of power. Failure, even com-
parative failure, in such a case is no disgrace ; it is no personal
discredit. But there it is, and the truth has to be courteously
told. Such truth is unquestionably unpalatable, but no success
in this world is ever gained without comparative failure.
Dramatic authors before now have written unsuccessful plays ;
musicians have composed unsaleable music ; authors have put
their names to books that have been badly reviewed ; painters
have exhibited pictures that have been ridiculed. But, in most
other arts, there the matter drops. It is not considered neces-
sary by the immediate friends of the disappointed to pen
loathsome anonymous letters containing the foulest charges, or
to propagate scandalous falsehoods through clubs and coteries
of cowards, as is done in the much-vaunted dramatic profession
for which our social suffrages are asked.
The impudence of some of these people surpasses belief. I
was interrupted in my work one afternoon by a crashing knock
at the door, and when it was opened in stalked a flashily-dressed
lady, covered with paint, pearl-powder, and jewels. I did not
know her by sight, nor had I ever heard her name. She came
without any introduction whatever, and it transpired that,
304 THE THEATRE. [JUNE i, 1889.
having a little money of her own or the capital of someone else
to fling away, she had elected, having no experience whatever,
to go on the stage, having been flattered in that desire by those
who ought to have known better than to encourage her. This
gorgeous creature, whose face was apparently her fortune, came
to the point at once.
" You are Mr. "
" I am."
" They tell me that you have influence."
I dissented.
" They say so, and moreover that you can make or mar
me — Well ! What are you going to do ? "
" First ask you politely to leave my room."
"And next?"
" When do you appear r "
" Wednes4ay."
" Then on Thursday morning I should advise you to buy the
newspaper I represent ! Cost one penny, permit me ! "
"What?"
" A postage stamp ! Good morning ? "
Exit powder and paint in a huff.
But actors and actresses are surely singular in their desire
to visit the sins of their failures on the heads of those whose
critical opinion they seek. A manufacturer of wine, when he
calls in an experienced taster, does not as a rule emphasise a
conflicting opinion by throwing a bottle at his head. A corn
dealer, when he offers a sample which is not satisfactory, is not
immediately called a thief, a rogue, and a scoundrel. The mere
commercial business of sampling is conducted on some decent
and courteous footing in all trades save that surrounding the
public playhouse.
An author writes a series of brilliant plays that become part
of our dramatic literature. He is highly and deservedly
praised. But even his modesty is supposed to be shocked by
the enthusiasm of his critic, who delightedly, to the best of his
poor ability, explains to the intelligent playgoer what a treat
is in store for him.
" Oh ! don't praise me so much ! " murmurs the blushing
author, with his tongue in his cheek, delighted beyond measure
all the time. "It is like reading the epitaph on one's tomb-
JUNE i, 1889.] A CRITIC ON THE CRITICISED. 305
stone before death has prevented that enviable privilege. What
should I have done without your cordial and disinterested help r "
Behold the reverse of the medal.
\
"In what way I have incurred your enmity I don't know.
When was produced you fell down in hysterical
adulation at my feet, &c., &c. Now ! &c., &c."
Another example.
" I do not think it will be possible for me ever to forget your
Itindness, and I shan't try. God made us and made none of
us perfect, and I think I was even less perfect, or rather more
imperfect, than usual on Saturday night. It was a nervous
liour, and there were many hitches, many shortcomings. In
the kindness of your heart, and your sympathy with the
struggling artist, you have veneered it all, and found all the
good you could, and said it nobly and generously. A man
and a friend. God bless you ! "
Alas for human nature that it should be so ; but in a very
few weeks the tune is changed to the minor key. A new play,
a new character, a fresh criticism.
And this is the wail that follows the rhapsody :
" I am sorry you do not like me or the play. I know very
well what I wrote, and I meant every word of it. Had you
proved a man and a friend, I should have had no reason to
complain of you, but your views suddenly changed (I am told on
good authority, because, &c., &c.). You not only expressed your
adverse opinion in print, but did your best to ruin a young actor !
I do not care one jot for your rudeness. You may jump upon
me, smash me, crush me ; I shall live. Your criticism would be
superb if it did not constantly contradict itself, and I complain
of that — not its directness ! "
Poor sensitive fellow, it is the contradictory criticism that is
at fault, not the contradictory talent of the actor. How can an
actor succeed in one part and fail in another ? The thing is pal-
pably absurd. Hang the critic. ' 'Eave 'arf a brick at 'im."
But the peculiarity does not alone belong to English or
American art. If an Englishman is criticised adversely, it is
because he is not a Frenchman. If any objection is raised to
an American, it is because he is not an Englishman. There is
some "motive" somewhere. But even M. Coquelin has a
grievance, as the following extract will show : —
" M. Coquelin is reported to have opened his heart, or rather
306 THE THE A TRE. QUNE i, 1889.
unloosed his tongue, to a London interviewer. Some of the
famous comedian's remarks are entertaining. Speaking of his
reception by the New York critics last year, he said : — c Yes.
The "Tribune" critic, one Mr. Winter, was very severe. In
this he acted from mistaken zeal in the cause of Irving.
He is a great friend of Irving' s, and, I believe, his frequent guest.
On account of his loyalty towards the English actor he thought
it necessary to attack me, whom, doubtless, he considers the un-
kindly critic of his friend. You may remember I had some
controversy with Irving in a magazine, and spoke with reserve
of his genius — genius which, however, I fully admit. I consider
Irving a perfect artist and a great actor, but perhaps a little too-
much idolised in England. Yet, I don't know ; is one ever
idolised enough ? '
" It is gratifying to learn that M. Coquelin at least admits that
Mr. Irving is a great actor. As for Mr. Winter, he, like another
eminent critic who dwells nearer home, is given to spleen, and
at times allows his judgment to be warped by prejudice. He
did undoubtedly attack M. Coquelin with extreme virulence and
gross injustice, but he only got laughed at for his pains."
The " spleen " exhibited in the case of M. Coquelin, \vho is
one of the very first artists in hts own line in the world, was to
hint that a man with such a face and figure and such a voice
could with difficulty play romantic lovers, and to argue that
there might be and has been a far more effective reading ot
"Le Juif Polonais" than his. That was all. Some day,
perhaps, I may find time to extract a few more memoranda
from my note-book. The best of it is, these little differences soon
disappear into thin air. A change of the wind, and the sky
becomes blue again. A critic's unpopularity lasts exactly as
long as the play or the performance he cannot conscientiously
praise. When a theatre or manager has met with a reverse I
have to avoid its locality in my daily walks for fear of the
tragedian's scowl or the author's sneer. I am involved in the
personal injury. Even the commissionaire at the door looks
disposed to make for me and trample me in the dust. But I
wait, and the clouds roll by. A new play is pronounced a
brilliant success : the actor or actress is honestly and cordially
praised ; and when I return weary at night, I find — instead of
death's head and cross-bones, and a dirty anonymous letter
scribbled in red ink — a basket of blush roses. C. S.
JUNK i, 1889.] "MENU" OF MDLLE. R AC I [EL. 307
— -
The "Menu" of Mademoiselle
Rachel.
A REMINISCENCE.
NE evening, many years ago,
But in what year I scarcely know
(Dates plague me sadly),
In '46, perhaps, before
King Louis Philippe's reign was o'err
Ending so badly,
In the old " house of Moliere "
I sat, and marked the presence there
Of authors famous ;
Whom not to know, at least by sight,
Would in those days have stamped me quite
An ignoramus.
Balzac I saw, Dumas, and Slie,
And portly Janin full in view,
Names that well we know ;
With here and there some lesser star,
Gozlan and Guinot, Merle and Karr,
And Fiorentino.
What brought them thither, one and all :
How came it that in box or stall
(A fact surprising)
These literary dons were seen
Awaiting, each with anxious mien,
The curtain's rising :
'Twas no new piece, no premiere
That caused them to assemble there,
Alike attracted ;
'Twas neither Scribe nor Delavigne,
But Hermione * of Jean Racine,
By Rachel acted.
* In " Andromaque."
THE THEATRE. [JUNE ,, l889.
By RACHEL ! — was not that a spell
To tempt a hermit from his cell,
Much more a critic ?
Unless — as sometimes is the case —
He happened to be "out of place "
Or paralytic.
No wonder then if, on that night,
Those who, by favour or by right,
Had seats assigned them,
Mustered in force and took the best,
While others battled for the rest
Where they could find them.
The curtain rose, the play began,
And through the house a murmur ran
Of expectation,
As she, of tragic queens the first,
Came forward, greeted by a burst
Of acclamation.
The evening's triumph to relate
At such a very distant date
I've no pretension ;
But, at the close of act the third,
A little circumstance occurred
Which I may mention.
My neighbour in the stalls I knew —
A handsome youth, one of the few
Whose chic was quoted
In club and on the boulevard,
Both places where such matters are
Discussed and noted.
'Twas whispered — possibly in sport — -
To Rachel he was paying court,
As many then did ;
But false reports are often spread,
And when one isn't sure, " least said
Is soonest mended."
JUNE i, 1889.] "MENU" OF MDLLE. RACHEL. 309-
_
However, be that as it may,
He never missed a single play
When she was in it ;
And, though all scandal I mistrust,
The prize was fair, and he was just
The man to win it.
The stage was empty, and a pause '
The dying echoes of applause
At length succeeded ;
Her voice still seemed each heart to thrill -r
All felt its magic influence still —
I'm certain he did.
When suddenly arose a stir
Behind us, and a messenger,
Not without labour,
Pushed through the crowd, a note in hand,.
And, with a smile discreet and bland,
Gave it my neighbour.
He read it with a puzzled air
(His curiosity to share —
I must confess it —
I felt inclined), then turned to me.
" What do you think she wants r " said he^
" You'll never guess it.
" A strange caprice ! " pursued my friendr
She's hungry — that I comprehend.
Ca crause, such acting
As all of us have seen to-night !
But surely in her choice she might
Be more exacting.
" A perdreau truffey or a quail,
Or woodcock served on toast with trail
Would be perfection.
But see — I can't believe it yet —
What she's commissioned me to get
For her refection ! "
3HX
THE THEATRE.
[JUNE ,, l889,
He handed me the pencilled scrawl,
Three hurried lines, and that was all — •
What could be shorter ?
" Go straight to Chevet's, if you please,
Bid them send home some Cheshire cheese
And London porter ! "
CHARLES HERVEY.
An Angel Unawares.
BY ROWLAND GREY.
lOTHER, must I do it?" The sweet voice that
spoke these words was very pathetic, and the
lovely child-face was clouded with an expres-
sion of fear. Her listener sighed sorrowfully.
" My darling, you know why I ask you to be
brave."
The little girl cast an expressive glance at a closed door
adjoining the shabbily furnished sitting-room in which this
conversation took place, and said, with evident effort,
" Yes, I know why, and I will try to be good and not to mind
so much for father's sake."
Perhaps a few of the playgoers who frequented the pretty
little " Sothern " theatre missed the handsome jeune premier,
who for a few weeks had been lucky enough to be engaged
there in a popular comedy, but probably they would have been
little affected ^by the news that, owing to an accident, he was
now unable to act, by an irony of fate, just when, after years of
patient work in the provinces, he seemed likely to obtain the
share of recognition and success his undoubted talents deserved.
Jack Hesseltine had always had an irrepressible love for the
stage. He was a gentleman by birth and education, and when
his spendthrift father died, leaving him alone in the world with
very slender means, it was natural enough that he should
follow his own bent. It must be owned he was imprudent, for
he married very young, and married a girl who had lost her
JUNE i, 1889.] AN ANGEL UNAWARES. 311
heart to him at a country theatre, and who was disowned by
her family in consequence. She had neither talent nor inclina-
tion for her husband's vocation, which was fortunate, as he had
no desire for his wife to act ; but she was a charming woman,
able to make their poor home a very happy one, and he never
gave her cause to regret the union for which she had sacrificed
so much.
Their only child Sybil was now six years old, and of a beauty
so rare and delicate as to cause the sternest landladies to melt,
and the most obdurate creditors to soften when they saw her.
She was literally the idol of both parents ; and when the first
welcome gleams of success came, their first thought was that
they would be able to give their one treasure a good education
and a permanent home. For a few months things had looked
very bright, and then, just at the end of the season, Jack had
had a fall and dislocated his knee. It proved to be a long,
troublesome business, and it was of course impossible for him
to obtain an engagement. As bad luck would have it, the
•" Sothern '' was changing hands, and the manager, to whom he
owed much kindness, had gone to America.
It had been a hot summer, but the Hesseltines had been
obliged to give up their pretty little house in St. John's Wood
and go into inexpensive lodgings. They would have been
better off in the country ; but Jack was so sanguine of speedy
recovery, and so fearful of having to return to the old drudgery
if he once left London, that he insisted upon remaining there.
Nothing seemed to hurt Sybil, who for all her fairness was very
healthy. She made friends everywhere, and attracted a good
deal of kindly attention.
One day, as Mrs. Hesseltine sat sewing and thinking sadly of
unpaid bills and a cloudy future, she was interrupted by the
•entrance of an untidy servant, who announced with manifest
awe : " Miss Desanges and Mr. Melton." Everybody knows
beautiful Viola Desanges with her stormy life-history, and her
brilliant artistic gifts. Amy Hesseltine had often admired her
upon the stage, and rose to receive her magnificently-arrayed
visitor, a little conscious of her own poor dress and of the shabby
room.
Miss Desanges saw in a moment that she had to deal with a
lady, and said with her own special winning sweetness of
312 THE THEATRE. QUNE i, 1889..
manner, " I hope you will forgive what seems like an intrusion
when I explain its cause. But before I do this, may I introduce-
you to Mr. Melton, the author of ' Passion Flowers,' the forth-
coming new play at the ' Parthenon ' ? It was to have been
brought out in three weeks, but a very serious obstacle has
occurred, likely to delay its production. A most important part
was to have been taken by a small niece of mine, who is well
known for her cleverness, but unfortunately she has caught
scarlet 'fever. I was really in despair until quite by chance I saw
your lovely little Sybil, and felt immediately that here was my
very ideal. I saw Mr. Hesseltine in * Fate/ and feel sure that,
his daughter is sure to have talent. If she prove as satisfactory
as I imagine, I would gladly pay her well, for I am my own.
manager at present."
Amy turned very pale. " Neither my husband nor I ever-
intended Sybil for the stage, Miss Desanges. I am not ani
actress, but I know quite enough of the life behind the scenes to-
wish to keep my little girl away from the footlights. If you can
spare a few minutes I will go to my husband, but I am almost,
sure his opinion will coincide with my own strong feeling in the-
matter. I hope he will be able to come in and see you himself."
Whilst they sat waiting, the young author, who had thin'
marked features and melancholy eyes, took up a framed photo-
graph from the table. Viola Desanges leant over his chair, and
looked at it intently, with a soft expression stealing over her
beautiful weary face. " It is like a dream to me to think that
my play will soon be brought out with you as its heroine," said
Horace Melton, after a pause. " Like all poets, I have my queer
fancies, and I cannot help thinking that such a child as this
must bring good fortune with her. She is like one of the visions
of the old masters of the angels watching round the Holy Child."
Miss Desanges sighed. There was something odd and un-
worldly about this young man. He had a strange way of speak-
ing his thoughts aloud that fascinated her by its simplicity. She
felt that he at least believed her to be a good woman, and his
faith in her was more precious than the incense poured at her
feet by a crowd of adorers, to all of whom she was equally cold.
But deep in her heart there was one overmastering love burn-
ing like a fierce flame, and she felt that, bound in honour as
she was to a man whom she had learnt to despise, if he who
MISS LOTTIE VKNNE.
t to-day, Uakcr. A\\ay ! avwiy 1
PICKWICK.'
FROM A PHOTOGRAPH SPECIALLY TAKF.N FOR "THE THEATRE
)!Y BARRAI'D. I.ONPON AM) LIVERPOOL.
JUNE i, 1889.] AN ANGEL UNA WARES. 313
•-•
had inspired this strong passion pleaded he would not plead in
vain. All these thoughts flitted through her brain as she sat
there. Simple and poor, as were all her surroundings, she knew
intuitively that she- /was in a happy home, contrasting Amy
Hesseltine's lot curiously with her own splendid misery.
Meanwhile, in the next room, Amy was hurriedly explaining
to her husband what had happened. At first his negative was
as emphatic as her own, but she could see that his fatherly
pride was much gratified by the visit of the great actress. " If
you will give me my crutches I will go in and see Miss
Desanges myself/' and in spite of crutches Jack looked so hand-
some when he made his appearance, that he inspired both
visitors with very sincere pity. Miss Desanges plunged into
business at once, exercising all her potent powers of persuasion,,
until, at last, the parents yielded.
It was not any love of art that made them consent, poor
things. Even Jack had no wish to see Sybil on the stage, but
there was the haunting consciousness of debts they were too
honest not to desire to pay, and the fear of still more grinding
poverty in the near future. Miss Desanges was simply delighted
when she had gained her point ; she was so rich that she could
well afford to be generous, but the terms she offered were far
higher than she had at first intended.
" Perhaps, Mrs. Hesseltine, you would kindly bring her down
to me at the theatre, to-morrow, at about twelve o'clock, just to
try her. I am not afraid. Good-bye, Mr. Hesseltine, get well
and we must see if we cannot find you a place in our company.
They say Mr. Vaufield is to be married to an heiress soon, and
if this is true, he will retire and leave a vacancy. You have
done me a real service, and I shall not soon forget it."
It took Mrs. Hesseltine a long while to explain all this to
Sybil, although, like most only children, she was older than her
years. Sybil was quite familiar with theatres, and had often
seen her father act, but she had her own quaint ideas upon the
subject, and sometimes talked about the cruel people who
clapped and laughed at papa when he was well, and forgot him
when he wras ill and suffering. She adored her father, and when
once she had grasped the idea that if she were a good girl and
did what she was told she would have money enough to buy him
all sorts of nice things, she consented to try. Her little heart
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. A A
314 THE THEATRE. [JUNE i, 1889.
almost failed her when she was taken to the theatre, but she
was quick and clever, and learnt the few words of her part so
rapidly that Miss Desanges was more than satisfied.
It gave Amy Hesseltine a thrill to hear the clear little voice
as she stood half hidden in the wings. She let her veil fall over
her face, as she silently prayed for her darling — prayers that
.she might be kept pure and spotless and learn no evil in this
strange new atmosphere. Neither Sybil nor her mother ever
guessed how strange an influence was exercised by the new
child-member of the company. Men and women alike felt
better for her innocent presence ; the very scene-shifters loved
her, and Viola Desanges, who had never known the magic
touch of baby fingers, acted the scene with Sybil as she had
never acted before.
It was pathetic enough in all truth. A beautiful imaginative
-woman, with a silent reserved husband she fancies indifferent,
has in a weak moment consented to leave her home with a rich
.artist. His specious arguments convince her, and at last at a
ball at her own house she gives her promise. She goes upstairs
to put on a cloak, and then cannot resist going to the room
where her child is lying asleep. All is dark save for the lamp
held in the hand of the mother, who kneels by the cot weeping
passionately and half regretting her rash impulse. The child
sleeps calmly, as she pours out a pitiful prayer for forgiveness,
but wakes when the hot tears fall upon her cheeks.
" Why are you crying so, darling mamma r and are you going
.away, that you have your cloak on : "
" Hush, baby, it is still night, but I have got to go away on
.a long journey."
Nothing prettier than Sybil was surely ever seen on any stage
when she sat up in her crib with her golden curls all ruffled.
" Mamma, darling mamma, don't go away and leave papa
and me. Oh ! take us with you ; we cannot be left alone, we
love you so dearly."
As she said this she clung round the neck of the mother
who was going to forsake her, and the victory was won. The
curtain fell as Viola Desanges threw off her heavy travelling
cloak and sat down, holding the tiny hand in her own.
" Go to sleep, my baby ; I will stay and take care of you
always."
JUNE i, 1889.] AN ANGR& LWAll'.lKKS. 315
Then the husband, who has been an unseen witness, comes
forward writh his full forgiveness, and all ends happily.
Wiseacres expressed doubts as to the success of " Passion
Flowers." It was too simple, too poetical, too sombre ; in fact,
there was no end to the charges brought against it, and Horace
Melton sometimes desponded. Not so Miss Desanges.
" I tell you I am sure of the verdict," she said to him again
and again. " I have never had a part I like so well. As to
Sybil, she is unique ; that utter simplicity and that face must
take the audience by storm. I know audiences so well."
* * * * *
It was a grey, chilly October evening, and a tall distinguished-
looking man was sitting alone in a luxurious room in. Piccadilly
writing rapidly. He was pale and agitated, and his hand
trembled as he wrote. Hugh Errington was rich, free, and
gifted, yet he was most unhappy. The only son of good
parents, he had been a good man in spite of all temptations.
But then he had never known the real force of temptation until
he discovered that the passion against which he had silently
battled for years was returned. He could scarcely remember
the time when he had not loved Viola Desanges, but he was a
man of honour, and he knew that she was married. Latterly
she had been more miserable than usual, and then one memor-
able night, each had guessed the secret of the other, and the
knowledge had brought a bitter-sweet rapture that was more
like pain than gladness. Viola was the stronger now, since a
little golden-haired teacher had taught her sweet lessons of
patience and forgiveness. She was learning to be brave in her
resignation. But Hugh Errington had grown harder and more
reckless since he knew the truth, and, now, on this the first night
of "Passion Flowers" — ominous name — he was forgetting
honour, forgetting pride, and forsaking the right path. In his
hand he now held the sealed letter that implored Viola Desanges
to leave London, to leave the world with him. A bouquet lay
beside him, and he carefully fastened the note among the roses
which concealed it. Half-an-hour later he was with two or
three other men in a small high box at the Parthenon. It all
seemed like a confused, evil dream. He bowed and smiled to
his acquaintances, and talked abstractedly to those who were
with him. This time to-morrow his place wrould be vacant, his
316 THE THEATRE. [JUNE i, 1889.
story the talk of the town, and honest men would have no part
or lot with him. The play proceeded, and, as Viola Desanges
had foreseen, it was received with growing favour. The critics
agreed that she had surpassed herself, and even Hugh Errington
was conscious of an inexplicable change in her.
Little Sybil's entrance roused him from a reverie, and he fol-
lowed her every movement with fixed attention. She brought
back to his remembrance a picture that had hung over his bed
in the old hall when he was a boy — the picture of a child angel
with a white lily in its hand. He remembered how he liked to
fancy it a guardian spirit when he fell asleep at night. What
had such thoughts as these to do with the present r He had
chosen, it was too late. No, not yet too late. The flowers lay
beside him, Viola was on the stage, they were still apart — the
barrier was not broken, as it should be broken before another
day dawned. He did not follow the action of the play very
closely, but its construction was simple. Was it merely a
coincidence that it seemed to have been written especially for
him r " You say you will give me everything heart can desire ;
but Geoffrey, if I go away with you, you can never give me back
a woman's greatest treasure, my good name." With what thrill-
ing expression Viola Desanges spoke those words, and what a
depth of meaning lay in her great wistful eyes !
There was not a sound in the theatre. The great actress had
risen to an unimagined height of power, and the audience was
riveted. And the child ! When the flushed face on the white
pillows was revealed by the lamp there was moisture in the
eyes of many but little used to feel emotions such as these,,
and real tears fell on Sybil's cheeks as Viola Desanges leant
over her forgetting even the artist in the woman.
And Hugh Errington ? Surely the guardian spirit of his
boyish dreams stood before him in the guise of little Sybil.
Silently, earnestly, the great battle between good and evil was
being waged. His friends had left him, and he had no witness
when he took the bouquet and tore to fragments the note that
had lain like a serpent among the blossoms.
He would leave England, but he would leave it alone., He
would not tempt a loving woman to sin fcr his sake ; he would
begin a new life that should be higher and purer ;han the old.
The curtain fell amid frantic applauss. The actors were coming,.
JUNE i, 1889.] THE NEW DRAMATIC SCHOOL. 317
~~? _
and for a moment Viola Desanges stood before them with Sybil
beside her. The smile of triumph on her face made it more
beautiful than ever, but to the man who watched her for the last
time it had an ad[ded sweetness, as he looked at her and flung
the bouquet of roses at the feet of the child who had saved him
and come to them both like an angel unawares.
The New Dramatic School.
I" HE " Times " says :— " ' Wealth/ by Mr. H. A. Jones,
which was produced recently at the Haymarket
Theatre, is a well intentioned play, redounding to the
credit of both author and manager. More directly,
more uncompromisingly than any contemporary work
of its kind, it grapples with a social problem of vital
interest, and seeks to solve it in accordance with philosophical
principles. . . . The methods of the stage have a tendency
to run in certain well-worn grooves, out of which it is desirable
from time to time that they should be lifted. . . . Author
and manager have intentionally turned aside from the ruts of
convention to seek a new and untrodden path, and if the
drama is to be revivified — if we are to have a new dramatic
formula in place of the present well-worn one — if the drama is
to cease to be &joujou curieux et amusant — if, in short, the play-
wright is in any measure to usurp the function of the moralist,
or even of the genre painter, it is by such a spirit of enterprise
as that displayed by Mr. H. A. Jones and Mr. Beerbohm Tree
that the change will be effected."
Mr. William Archer thus discusses "The Profligate" :—
" The next few weeks at the Garrick Theatre will be full of
significance for the future of the English drama. If ' The
Profligate ' succeeds — really and solidly succeeds — we shall
know that there exists in England a public of men and women
ready and even eager to accept the serious treatment of serious
themes. I have very little doubt as to the issue. First nights
3i8 THE THEATRE. [JuNE i, 1889
are apt to be deceptive, but there was a ring in the enthusiasm
of Wednesday last which must surely echo a thousandfold
through London and through England. It rejoiced but did not
surprise me. I have long maintained that the supposed neces-
sity for comic relief, happy endings, and so forth was a mere
delusion. The public wants to be interested and moved, no
matter how ; it is we critics who have hitherto insisted that all
plays must be concocted according to a given recipe. We have
conjured up a stupid eidolon, a sort of a vacantly-grinning
bogie, which we have called the British Public, and have taken
upon ourselves to formulate its prejudices and deliver its judg-
ments in advance. As a matter of fact, there is no such thing
as the British Public, no such homogeneous, impervious, immu-
table mass of blockheadism as we have been pleased to imagine.
But by diligently flaunting our bogie in the eyes of dramatists
we have frightened them off the most fruitful tracts of their
natural domain — that is, of human life. It is no secret that
when Mr. Pinero wrote ' The Profligate ' he intended to print,
not to produce it. The fear of the bogie was upon him ; and
had it not been for Mr. Hare's insight and courage, the
triumph of Wednesday night might have been (at least) indefi-
nitely postponed. I find it difficult to express with measure
my gratitude to Mr. Pinero ; for, by a curious reaction, his
achievement ministers to my self-esteem. Dramatic criticism
in England is apt to seem the most solemnly puerile of human
occupations. Fancy a man making it his business in life to go
three times a week to the Lowther Arcade, and gravely report
upon the latest novelties from Paris or Niirnberg ! But here,
at last, we had got out of the toy-shop, and were in touch
with adult art. I felt, as we all felt, no doubt, that this was a
play worth the serious consideration of grown men. Ten years
hence we may look back upon it as a tentative, immature,
adolescent work, Mr. Pinero' s ' Dame aux Camelias.' But
even when he shall have given us his ' Monsieur Alphonse '
and his ' Denise/ I shall still have a sneaking fondness for
* The Profligate,' in memory of the novel emotion of one ex-
hilarating evening."
I have been asked to reprint a few remarks I have made
elsewhere on' -the subject of these remarkable plays, which are
supposed to inaugurate a new school of dramatic thought.
JUNE i, 1889.] THE NEW DRAMATIC SCHOOL. 319
-•
" If I were suddenly to be told that I had never in my life seen
the sun rise or set ; that the moon was really made of green
cheese ; that the trees and fields at early springtime were bright
blue ; or that ' nothing is that has been,' I could not be more
astonished than when I am gravely informed that the ' old
hunks' of the drama is a new feature, and that his introduction
to the scene is the inauguration of a regenerated stage and a new
dramatic formula ! If tnere be one character more stereotyped
and stale than another in drama, old and new, surely it is the
irascible and unreasoning old gentleman who, puffed up with
pride or wealth or conceit, turns his daughter or his son out of
the house because he or she will not marry the man or woman
he has destined for them. Why, this irascible old curmudgeon
is the very stock-in-trade of the old dramatists. He occurs in
almost every play that was ever written before and after the
beginning of the present century. He was as indispensable to
the dramatists beloved of our forefathers as is the modern
mother-in-law in the conventional three-act farce of to-day.
When one Philip Massinger wrote a play called ' A New Way
to Pay Old Debts/ and created Sir Giles Overreach, was any-
thing said about philosophy, or psychology, or an important
social problem, or a regenerated style of drama ? He was a
bit of human nature, and so he was accepted, in spite of the
play being dull ; for a genius created Sir Giles Overreach, and
carried a heavy play on his shoulders to partial success. When
George Colman wrote ' The Iron Chest,' Sir Edward Mortimer
was not hailed as a regenerating influence or the pioneer of a
new formula. He had his origin in a novel called ' Caleb
Williams,' and neither the talent of the Keans nor the music
of Storace could shake off the depression of the gloomy play,
which not only contained a Sir Edward Mortimer, but an
Adam Winterton into the bargain — a character that, as acted
by Dodd, nearly shut up the old * Iron Chest ' altogether.
" All who take an interest in modern stage-work and in the
future of the literary drama must rejoice and be exceeding glad
when Mr. Henry Arthur Jones writes a play, for he is a
thoughtful student and a man with reverence. There is nothing
haphazard or flippant about him at all. Most of us also, who
would preserve the vitality of the stage, its life, its mission, its
purity, and its influence, would encourage to the utmost any
320 THE THEATRE. [JUNE i, 1889.
new departure that would tend to ennobling it, and to bring
back to the consideration of the drama men of culture and
intellect. But, for the life of me, I cannot see the use of raising
these * cuckoo cries ' about philosophy and new formulas, and
so on, when there is nothing whatever to justify them. The
boy who went on calling ' Wolf! ' was in the end disbelieved,
and disaster was the result. Has not some one been crying
'Wolf!' pretty loudly over the new Haymarket play of
* Wealth ' r Where on earth can any one discover the root
or basis, or even the faintest foreshadowing of a grave social
problem in the story, the idea, or in any of the characters
introduced into the play ? What is there new in its conception,
or original in its treatment ? How does Matthew Ruddock
differ from the thousand and one selfish, egotistical, unrea-
sonable old rapscallions who have preceded him ? Sprung
from nothing, by dint of industry he made a fortune. So did
our fathers, our grandfathers, and great-grandfathers. There is
nothing new in that. Bloated with wealth, his social success
turned his head. Is this a new feature in the scheme of our
common humanity ? Cantankerous and capricious, he turns
against those he loves best, and cuts off his idolised daughter
with less than the conventional shilling. Why, the curmud-
geons of old comedy have been doing this for centuries ! The
love of money turns his brain, and when he is most wealthy he
dreams that he is a pauper. Is this a case that has never been
recorded in old Bethlehem Hospital or St. Luke's r Why, it
dates from the time that lunatics were chained to the walls and
slept on straw ! Such dramatic madmen invariably recover
their reason by the same kind of shock that upset it, and die
' babbling of green fields ' in the arms of those they love best.
Xo one would pretend for a moment to say that such characters
or such motives are unsuited to the drama, be it new or old, be
the old curmudgeon armed with a sword or an office ruler,
whether such a hero is attired in velvet and lace or in frock-
coat and trousers ; but to placard him as a new product is just
a little preposterous, and unquestionably misleading.
" I always thought in my innocence that the fine old plays
beloved by pur forefathers were discarded simply because they
were dull, dispiriting, and out of tune with the go-ahead,
exciting spirit of the age. I always conceived that Mr. Irving,
JUNE i, 1889.] THE NEW DRAMATIC SCHOOL. 321
v^?
Mr. Tree, and others had been devoting their artistic lifetime
to the application of Shakespeare, amongst other old drama-
tists, to the tendency of the times. I have seen revivals of
Massinger's old play, of Colman's lugubrious drama, and even
of the modern ' Werner ; ' but they all carried too much
weight, and they sank the acting that they called into play.
But if the new departure, and the social problems, and the
psychology, and all the fine new terms, and phrases are to
bring back dulness sublimated — well, then, for goodness' sake
let us see a fine and intelligent young actor like Mr. Beerbohm
Tree as Sir Giles Overreach or Sir Edward Mortimer or Count
Werner ! For assuredly neither Massinger nor Colman nor
Lord Byron wrote quite so monotonous a study of an old gentle-
man as Mr. Henry Arthur Jones has done. To applaud, or
encourage as an example, such a play as * Wealth ' is to revive
the depressing effects of the elder dramatists without recognising
their literary merits. We are told by the quidnuncs that we are
for the future to discard love interest and comic relief, and what
they are pleased to call the conventionality and the commonplace
formulas of dramatic art ; but, if we do, for goodness' sake let us
have something new or wonderful to put in their place. So far
as I can see, if this be an example of the new tradition, we have
retained the commonplace and conventional, the dotard, his
delirium and his death, and have not even given him a new frame
to brighten him up and make him look smart. It may be that the
new school is all right and the old school is all wrong. Possibly
there are playgoers who desire to see such capable performers
as Mrs. Beerbohm Tree, Mr. Brookfield, Mr. Kemble, Mr.
Macklin, Miss Rose Leclercq, and Miss Rose Xorreys, and many
others comparatively effaced and their artistic efforts rendered
nugatory because it has been decided to give Mr. Beerbohm
Tree a 'one part' play. But this does not seem the tendency
of the dramatic times so far as one can see. Everyone present
in the theatre admired and applauded the heroic endeavour of
Mr. Beerbohm Tree, ever an artist, and who will one day startle
us with a great dramatic creation. Everyone thanked Miss
Rose 'Norreys and Mr. Weedon Grossmith for the relief of their
delightful humour. But the audience seemed to sigh for interest
—which must, after all, be the backbone of any form of drama,
conventional or reformed.
322 THE THE A7 RE. [JUNE i, 18X9.
" To my mind the sudden discovery that the public and the
critics in combination have driven * human nature ' off the
stage, or at any rate discouraged it, is one of the most astound-
ing instances of modern critical affectation that I have ever met
with. My friend Mr. William Archer, who is not very often
enthusiastic, throws his cap in the air, claps his hands, and
shrieks with delight because Mr. Pinero has dared to write such
a play as ' The Profligate.' He thinks that now the barrier
has been broken down, and that we shall worship dolls and
dummies no more. He looks upon the public as a huge bogey,
created by silly critics. Well, we are all rejoiced that Mr.
Pinero has written < The Profligate ; ' it is a charming and
delightful work, a play that would have succeeded any time
these twenty years ; a play that would succeed no doubt twenty
years to Come ; but is there anything so very strange and
wonderful in the ethics of the new play ? When, a few years
ago, Mr. Wilson Barrett constructed, invented, and arranged
' Sister Mary,' no one shrieked with delight at his daring in
shaking . off the dust of stage conventionality ; and * Sister
Mary ' was, in essence, invented and put aside at least twenty-
live years ago ! I grant that ' The Profligate ' is a vastly better
play than ' Sister Mary,' but there is scarcely an idea in Mr.
Pinero's play that was not anticipated in Mr. Barrett's story.
Walter Leigh has, in his wild-oat days, seduced Rose Read, a
farmer's daughter, promised to marry her, and abandoned her.
Dunstan Renshaw seduces, deceives, and abandons Janet when
he is a wild and reckless young man. Walter Leigh is arrested
in his downward and degraded course by a good, pure woman.
Renshaw is saved from ruin by an innocent girl. Walter
Leigh forgets all about Rose Read. Renshaw forgets his
obligations to Janet. Leigh's secret is discovered by his
intended bride on their wedding morning. Renshaw's secret
is discovered in the rapture of his honeymoon. Sister Mary
leaves her adored Walter when the wedding-bells are ringing".
The bride leaves her Dunstan when they are married. Sister
Mary consents to take Walter back when the woman he has
seduced is dead. Rose Read dies on the battle-field ; and the
two who love are united. Dunstan and Leslie are supposed to
marry when the victim of the man is still living, uncared for
and destitute, and after Dunstan has tried to commit suicide.
JUNE i, 1889.] THE NEW DRAMATIC SCHOOL. 323
Walter Leigh, with more bravery, has sought death when
leading a ' forlorn hope ' to nescue the woman he has seduced*
and who has wrecked his life. And yet the story of 'Sister
Mary' was voted / sentimental and immoral, and the story of
1 The Profligate ' is the one that is to rescue the wretched stage
from bondage !
" Surely Mr. William Archer is familiar with the works of
Mr. Thomas W. Robertson when he implies that human nature
on the stage is a new discovery of the modern critic. Was
there no human nature in 'Caste'? no human nature in
' Ours ' ? Did Robertson ever write a play that was not a
protest against conventionality and stage cant and irritating
formulas r I have had some little experience of stage-plays,
and have never known one properly impregnated with 'human
nature ' to fail ; but Heaven help us from the false human
nature of such unwholesome, meretricious stuff as 'As in a
Looking-Glass,' 'Ariane,' and the gilt trumpery that passes
itself off for gold ! Heaven help the stage from advertising
the false instead of the true ; and peace be to the sleepy
audiences that find repose and rest in so somnolent a produc-
tion as 'Wealth.'
" Mr. Pinero suffers as much as he profits by the acting of his
delightful play. Had he sought London all over he could not
have found a better hero than Mr. Forbes Robertson, a better
heroine than Miss Kate Rorke, a better Lord Dangars than Mr.
Hare, a better Mrs. Stonehay than Mrs. Gaston Murray. They
were, one and all, as good as good can be. All these artists
have brains. We may want a little more distinction here and
there, but with these the true note of the play was touched ; but
that was only half the play. The best character — Mr. Murray,
the solicitor — was not touched or apparently understood. Mr.
Lewis Waller is a clever and, at times, an interesting young
actor. His acting was the best thing in ' Brantinghame Hall ; '
but he did not .get near the Scotch solicitor. He spouted his
speeches, he did not soliloquise or declaim from the heart. All
the sentiment of the character which Mr. Archer detests so much
evaporated. For what possible reason could Mr. Willard have
refused so noble a character, as true to the best kind of human
nature as character can be ? — and why was not Mr. Bancroft
recalled to the stage to play a part that he would have acted as
324 THE THEAIRE. [JUNE i, 1889.
well as he would have looked it ? For Hugh Murray is a serious
man — not a disagreeable boy. Miss Olga Nethersole was spoiled
as an actress when an undiscriminating audience applauded her
excess, in The Dean's Daughter.' She has been extravagant,
excessive, and stagy ever since. No doubt she will improve her
style altogether if she has the good fortune to remain at the
Garrick Theatre, where she will be taught what to forget. The
same training and experience will be of value to Miss Lamb,
who had a great chance in Mr. Pinero's play — and missed it.
' The Profligate ' is capital as it stands ; had it been better
acted, it would have stood out as the best and most interesting
play of its class since ' Caste,' as it certainly is. " C. S."
P.S. — It may be interesting to add to this Mr. Pinero's own
explanation of the termination of "The Profligate." Every one
who has seen the play will agree with Mr. Pinero that the
healthy influence of the story is as strong as ever, and the value
of each character remains unimpaired notwithstanding the
change of plan from the original conception and design.
" I feel that Mr. Hare, in his friendly anxiety to spare my shoulders, has
laid a burden upon his own which I am not justified in allowing him to
bear. The alteration in the ending of ' The Profligate ' was made by me
very willingly, and I am unfortunate if I conveyed to Mr. Hare the im-
pression that I was making any sacrifice of my convictions. Indeed, I
c mid never allow the consideration of mere expediency to influence me in
dealing with subjects upon which I feel deeply and write with all the
earnestness of which I am capable.
" I had long settled the form of my play when a friend for whose judg-
ment I have great respect raised through Mr. Hare a question for my
consideration. Could not the moral I had set myself to illustrate be
enforced without distressing the audience by sacrificing the life of a
character whose sufferings were intended to win sympathy? Reflection
convinced me that such a course was not only possible but was one which
in no way tended to weaken the termination of my story, whilst it promised
to extend that story's influence over the larger body of the public.
"This sparing of the life of Renshaw has in no way distorted my original
scheme as it affected the other characters of the play. Murray's love
remains unrewarded; Janet suffers for her partnership in Renshaw's sin,
and passes away ; Wilfrid's boyish passion shares the fate of most boyish
passions, and is left to become a memory ; Renshaw pronounces his own
doom — than which not even the death penalty could be heavier — in the
speech which has for its burden 'She knows you ! ' — all these things are as
I always intended they should be. The forgiveness of Renshaw by Leslie
was from the first part of my scheme, and this softening of the wife towards
her husband arises now, as it did originally, through the good offices of
Murray.
" I am aware that in dealing with the destinies of many of the characters
JUNE i, I889-] FATIIKR DAM I EN. 325
_
in ' The Profligate ' I have not been guided by the usual and often valuable
mechanism of btagecraft ; but it has been my purpose to yield uniesistingly
to the higher impress of truth, and from the truths of life as thc-y appear to
my eyes I have never wavered in any degree.
" I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
"ARTHUR \V. PlNERO.
"Weymouth, yth May, 1889."
Father Damien.
"THE LEPER APOSTLE." 1841—1889.
OFT breezes chant thy requiem, saint victorious,
In that fair island of the southern sea ;
Rest after toil is thine ! How blest and glorious
On God's great Day shall thine awakening be !
O grand and noble heart that ne'er did languish,
Crushing all Self beneath the feet of Love ;
Content through lonely years to soothe the anguish
Of God's sore-stricken ones, and point above ;
To comfort those in loathsome sickness lying ;
To raise the fallen near to God again ;
To bear thy Master's message to the dying,
And sink at last beneath the leper's pain.
Thy life doth shine, a glorious answer giving,
In these dark days when Faith grows weak and cold,
And men ask sadly, " Is this life worth living ? "
Then shall thy name pierce the grey mists with gold.
Faithful to death ! A fadeless wreath of glory
Upon thy far-off grave mankind doth lay,
Throughout all lands shall ring thy noble story —
The whole world claims thee as its own to-day !
EFFIE M. AYLING.
326 THE THEATRE. GONE i, 1889.
©ur
"WEALTH."
An Original Play of modern English life, in four acts, by HENRY ARTHUR JONES.
First produced at the Haymarket Theatre, April 27, 1889.
Matthew Ruddock.. Mr. BEERBOHM TREE. Percy Palfreyman .. Mr. WEEDON G-ROSSMITH.
Paul Davoren . . .. Mr. MACKLIN. Mr. Palfreyman .. Mr. STEWARD DAWSON.
John Ruddock .. Mr. BROOKFIELD. Wakeley vir. PERCEVAL-CLARK.
Dr. Driscoll .. .. Mr. KEJIBLE. Gaskin Mr. ROBB HAKAVOOD.
Hon. Clive Bash- Servant Mr. LEITH.
wood Mr. EDMUND MAURICE. Mrs. Palfreyman . . Miss ROSE LECLERCQ.
Rev. Joseph Cheese- Mrs. C iceseley .. Miss AYRTOUN.
ley Mr. C. ALLAN. Madge Davoren . . Miss NORREYS.
Roger Buckmaster.. Mr. HARQREAVES. Eclitti Ruddock .. Mrs. BEERBOHJI TREE.
The very brilliant and representative audience that filled the Haymarket
Theatre to overflowing on this occasion seemed much divided in opinion
as to what verdict should be passed on the new play ; and the conclusion
was not one of unqualified approval. One cannot congratulate Mr. Jones
in having strayed from the path of domestic drama to launch out into
study of character, given in a one-part play, when the work is so
unequally done. The piece starts wrell with an interesting and strong fir^t
act, which unfortunately proves an anti-climax to a very weak ending. In
the second act there is also some good work, but the closing scene is
almost a replica of the situation in the first act ; surely this is a mistake.
In the last two acts the play dwindles into an uninteresting monologue.
But here is the story :
Matthew Ruddock is a Yorkshire ironfounder, a self-made man who by
hard incessant work has become immensely wealthy. This wealth he
has made his idol. To keep it, he is as hard to r;imself as he is to his
workmen. To increase it, he has ventured health and brain, and he will
not believe his doctor's warning that they arc tottering under the strain of
overwork. This stern, unflinching old man has one tender spot in his
nature — the love he bears to his motherless daughter. Nothing is too good
or too beautiful for his Edith ; he would turn every stone from her path,
load her "with riches. But — and, inconsistent though it may seem, ic is but
too true to some human natures — he expects her to be happy according to
his plan, not to any of her own. This wealch that he has given up his
life for must not go to strangers ; it mast cling to his name even after he
is gone. Therefore Edith must marry her cousin John Ruddock, the
orphan nephew, whom Matthew has always looked upon as his son. But
Edith has seen through John's villainous nature; secret love for another
man who knows not his happiness has given her clear eyesight, where
her father has been blind. Betrothed without being comulied, the
JUNE i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 327
~~? _
marriage hurried on without giving her pause, at the last moment she
plucks up courage to ihro\v off the fear that mingles with her love for her
fither. After a first tender and useless appeal, she resolutely declares she
will not marry the pan she cannot love. Thunderstruck that his child
should not obey him implicitly in realising the one dream of his life, he
gives her until the morrow to change her mind, or he will never see her face
again. And as he staggers and seems about to fall he repulses the Doctor's
proffered arm, and, recovering himself by sheer force of will, exclaims,
'• Leave me alone, I'm quite well." Thus ends the first act, and so far the
audience is interested and impressed. In this act cnly does the part of
Edith give any opportunity to Mrs. Beerbohm Tree, and she is very sweet,
charming and natural. Her scream and shudder, when John Ruddock
comes stealthily to her side and touches her unexpectedly, were very good,
because so very true. After the first few phrases Mr. Beerbohm Tree
dropped the Yorkshire dialect altogether ; but for this detail the assumption
of the character was perfect. His make up, his every look, tone, gestures,
showed the great artist at every turn ; he was the man he represented ; it
was an excellent and finished performance. The second act is faulty in
construe) ion, still we have good scenes in it. A fortnight has elapsed, and
Edith has been receiving the hospitality of Madge Davoren, the sister of
the man she loves. Matthew Ruddock has not relented, he will not call
her back until she consents to marry John. All messages or embassies
from her are received with testy irritability and cold jesolution, admirably
depicted by Mr. Beerbohm Tree. At one time, however, he is very nearly
breaking down : it is the one touching scene in the play, the one bit of true
pathos and poetry which must appeal to airhearts. Matthew Ruddock has
made a new will in favour^of his nephew, and in searching for the old one to
destroy it, comes across letters of his daughter written to him when she was
a child. His first impulse is to throw them into the fire, but he reads one
before doing so. Written from school in anticipation of her father's next
visrt, the letter is full of longing to see him, of hunger for his presence and
love, and in words so appropriate to thef present situation that the strong
man breaks down into tears, calls for his darling, and yearns to forgive.
Had Edith come in at this juncture to be folded in her father's arms and
taken back into his heart for ever, and this been the ending of the play, I
do not believe that the loud dissent that came at the end of the act \vould
have been heard. While we were still under the impression of this scene,
beautifully rendered by Mr. Beerbohm Tree, the villain comes on the scene
and destroys all the good effect of the letter by showing Matthew a para-
graph in a society paper (evidently inserted by himself), to the effect that
Edith has compromised herself by leaving her father's house for that of
Paul Davoren. The Utter and Edith now come on the scene. She again
refuses to marry John, and is again disowned. From her father's angry words
Davoren learns, for the first time, that he is loved, and this emboldens him
to abk her to te his wife. Refusing the consent his daughter asks of him,
in a moment of blasphemous frenzy Matthew Ruddock dares heaven to
328 THE THEATRE. [JUNE i, 1889.
beggar him. From this moment the play falls to pieces. Shattered in
health and mind, Matthew labours under the delusion that he is ruined ; in
a fit of absolute madness he scatters his gold and securities about his draw-
ing-room, tears down the draperies, and makes salad of the furniture ; and
this occupies the whole of the third act, for the string of relations so feebly
tacked on to the main plot do not in any way advance or help the story by
their scene in this act. The mad scene was, no doubt, intended to be
powerful, but it was only overstrained and far-fetched. Mr. Beerbohm Tree
struggled through it bravely, working with desperate energy ; it was not his
fault if he failed to be impressive in the wearisome and monotonous mono-
logue, his artistic and nervous temperament could not help being weighed
down by such ponderous materials, handle them as he would. Restored
to reason by the loving care of his daughter, who is about to marry the
man of her choice, the emotion at learning that he is still a wealthy man
kills him, afcer he has destroyed the will disinheriting his daughter. This is
the ending of a weak fourth act. Miss Rose Leclercq, Miss Norreys, and
Mr. Weedon Grossmith were very good in small parts that are outriders to
the story. Mr. Macklin did his best as an uninteresting lover, and so did
Mr. Brookfield as the meanest of villains. The play is emphatically a one-
part play, and if Mr. Beerbohm Tree was by no means at his best in the
two concluding acts, which reflect no credit on the author, in the early
scenes he showed himself a true artist. Since writing the above I under-
stand the play has been considerably altered, and consequently improved.
" CLAUDIAN."
Princess's Theatre, April 29. 1889.
Despite its faults, Claudian is a play which grows upon you. The
prologue is so perfect that one feels as if after entering through a magnificent
portico, with beautiful architectural outlines and carvings, one suddenly
found oneself in a large empty hall full of shadows, with one solitary, grand,
and noble figure standing in the midst. After the prologue the play really
becomes a three-act monologue, then what an admirable monologue it i> !
How beautifully this character is drawn, how our attention is riveted, and
our sympathy enlisted ; what a splendid part ! But woe betide the average
actor who would undertake such a task ; it requires the talent and genius
of an inspired artist to hold an audience in his grasp throughout the
performance single-handed, so to speak. Mr. Wilson Barrett has made
this part especially his own, and I know of no actor who could equal him
in it. He looks, nay he is Claudian in every particular of dramatic pow< r
or subtle shade of expression, and his beautilul voice gives full meaning to
the poetry of the words. His present rendering is as admirable as ever,
and his hold on the audience in no way lessened by repetition. The death
scene remains t)ne of those beautiful poetical and impressive dramatic-
histrionic achievements that haunt one for many a day after each new time
of witnessing it.
MR JACK ROBERTSON.
" Sigh no inure, ladies ! si^h no inure !
Men were deceivers ever."
MUCH ADO AKOUI
1-kOM A I'HOlOukAl'H SPECIALLY TAKKN Kuk "llll-: THEATRE
BY KARRAUD, LONDON" AND LlViM'ooL.
JUNE i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX.
—•
. Miss Eastlake is a sweet Almida, and Miss Alice Belmore a handsome
Serena. Mr. Austin Melford makes an effective Holy Clement, and Mr.
W. A. Elliott is by far the best Agazil we have had since the death of the
rnuch-regretted Walter Speakman. Play and players received the hearty
welcome one always gives to old friends. On this evening Mr. Hall Cnine
reaped a success, which had nothing to do with his literary fame. Just
before the last act a piece of scenery crashed through the drop scene, and
would probably have caused some ugly accident had not Mr. Hall Caine,
from his stage box, disentangled the curtain in time ; his presence of mind
being greeted with a round of applause.
" FORGET-ME-NOT."
" Forget-Me-Not." Who ever could ? And often as one has seen the
play, one cannot help regretting that after the present series of matinees,
commenced at the Opera Comique, May 8, 1889, Miss Genevieve Ward's
rights in the piece came to an end. As I said last month, good plays
cannot be revived too often, and is it not the supreme degree of
artistic skill, when, after thousands of nights of impersonation, the picture
is not faded, but has gained some additional and vivid touches of fresh-
ness from the gifted interpreter. On each renewed acquaintance with
Stephanie de Mohrivart, fairness and justice have compelled me to say,
"Never has Miss Genevieve Ward acted better, never has she acted as
well ; " and this Wednesday afternoon, the very same words enforced them-
selves upon me more emphatically than ever. She, in turn, charmed her
audience with her esprit, interested them by her subtleness, awed them
with her masterly power, and moved them to tears by the earnestness and
truth of the bitter pathos which underlies the cold cruelty of Stephanie.
" You should be called Evergreen," says Sir Horace ; truly this applies to
the woman and artist whose personal charms and perfect talent command
the admiration of all. If it be possible, Mr. W. H. Vernon shows more
finish and natural ease in his ever-excellent rendering of Sir Horace. Mrs.
Canninge is again a capital Mrs. Foley ; and Mr. Nutcombe Gould and
Mr. T. Bindloss render good service as Prince Malleotti and Barrato.
Miss Robins, a new-comer, is a young actress of great promise ; her Alice
Verney was tender, sympathetic, and natural.
" ANGELINA ! "
. A new three-act Comedy, adapted by W. COOPER from M. Bisson's " Une Mission Delicate."
First produced at the Vaudeville Theatre on the afternoon of May 9, 1889.
Mr. Alfred Gadabout. Mr. THOMAS THORNE. I John . . Mr. E. F. SAXON.
Mr. Harkaway Spangle Mr. GILBERT FAR^UHAR. Mrs. Gadabout ..
Charles Spangle . . Mr. CYRIL MAUDE. I Cicely Gadabout
Major O'Gallagher .. Mr. FRED THUKNE.
Hector O'Gallagher . . Mr. FRANK GILLMORE.
Nancy ..
Angelina
Miss GLADYS HOMFREYS.
Miss ELLA BANISTER.
Miss FLORENCE BRIGHT.
Miss LILLIE HANDBURY.
Batt Mr. F. GROVE.
Received with considerable applause from an undoubtedly pleased
audience, " Angelina " is only a sketch at present. A good one, but
too thin for an evening bill. The outline is there, but wants filling in.
NEW SERIES. — VOL. XIII. B B
530 THE THEATRE. [JUNE i, 1889,
In evident fear that the piece might prove too naughty for an English
public, in its French form, the adapter has taken out much without
substituting anything instead. The plot is amusing, the characters are
well drawn, there are some capital scenes, but there is a lack of substance ;
it is a play of possibilities, and I think the general verdict was, how good
this will be when written up. Written up it must, and no doubt will be
before it starts on a prolonged career. Major O'Gallagher, married to
Angelina secretly for fear of being disinherited by a wealthy relation, leaves
England for active service. His two old friends Spangle and Gadabout
have each promised that during his absence they will look after Angelina,
be a father to her in fact. And when he is reported dead they likewise
consider it their duty to console her — Spangle with an offer of marriage
politely declined, Gadabout with balls, followed by lobster and champagne
suppers. It is while partaking of this light . refreshment at two o'clock in
the morning that they are startled by the return of the Major, very much
alive indeed. Angelina screams and faints; Gadabout, losing his head
and hat, runs away; and the Major concludes his friend has played him
false. It is the working out of his revenge which makes up the intrigue
of the play. He compels his nephew Hector to make love to Gadabout's
wife, a lady who prides herself in having more of the soldier than the
woman about her, and keeps her husband under strict discipline. Hector,
who is in love with Gadabout's daughter, on'y consents because he feels
certain his impertinence will receive an immediate check. To his dismay,
his advances are favourably received by Mrs. Gadabout, who, having
heard something about Angelina, wishes to make her husband jealous.
This and the arrest of Gadabout, the Major having given his hat
to the police as that of a burglar, bring about many complications,
everything being explained in the end, by the Major being able to openly
declare his marriage to Angelina. Space precludes my saying more. The
acting was good all round, as far as the reading of the parts went ; but
uncertainly as to words let down several of the scenes.
Miss Gladys Homfreys is very good as Mrs. Gadabout, looking both
handsome and soldierlike, and Miss Ella Banister is a very pleasing Cicely.
Mr. Farquhar and Mr. Fred Thorne will do excellently when memory no
longer fails them. Mr. Gillmore is bright as Hector. Mr. Thomas Thorne,
also a little shaky as to words, gives a capital and very amusing rendering
of the perplexed Gadabout — in the last act he is especially good. But the
chef cT oeuvre of the production is 'the smallest character, one that has no
fellow in the French play. This pedantic young man, who has made dee'p
study of Herbert Spencer, and considers himself a philosopher, is an
original and clever sketch, which does honour to the author and reflects
the greatest credit on the impersonater, Mr. Cyril Maude. Dress, gait,
make-up, voice, every detail in short, denoted careful observation and true
artistic finish. This clever young actor has never done anything better.
The smallest of parts can show the actor to be great, when he dev tes
such artistic excellence to his work. MARIE DE MENSIAUX.
JUNE
1889.]
OUR PLAY BOX.
33'
"THE PROFLIGATE."
New and Original Play, in four acts, by A. W. PINERO.
First produced at the Oarrick Theatre, Wednesday evening, April 24, 1889.
Lord I i.i IILMI s
Dunstan Kenshaw
II ii-'h Murray
Wilfred lirudi-m-11
Mr. ('heal .. ..
Ephgraves . .
Mr. .IOHN HARK.
Mr. Foi:m> EtOBXKTSOlT.
Mr. LKWIS WALLER.
Mr. s. HKOUOH.
Mr. DODSWORTH.
Mr. K. CATHCART.
\\<;IV.T .. ..
Mrs. Stonehay
Leslie Brudenell
Irene .. ..
Janet
Priscilla .
Mr. F. HAMILTON KM'; HI.
MlH. <J ASTO.N MlkRAY.
Miss KATK KUKKK.
Miss I'.KATIIU'K I. AMI:.
Miss OL«A NKTHKRSOLB.
Miss CALUWELL.
Never was a more deserved compliment paid to an author than that of
calling for Mr. Pinero to express to him the admiration the audience felt
for his work. " The Profligate " is a sad play, after the opening scene, but
its interest is so absorbing, its characters so human, and its language so
polished that one listens as though enthralled; and what a lesson it teaches
to the most thoughtless man of the world : it shows him how the con-
sequences of his self-gratification will one day rise up again as spectres to
haunt and destroy him should he not have, as in this case, a pure loving
woman, who, at the same time that she condemns, can pity him, and, with
the aid of that pity, hold forth a hand to lead him into a better path, and
guide and support him as he stumbles on his upward way. Yet the story
is but an oft-told one. Dunstan Renshaw is one of those men who has
lived for self alone, and, without
perhaps giving a thought to the
consequences, has, in the past, been
the ruin of a young girl, Janet
Preece by name. He tires of and
leaves her, and Leslie Brudenell,
one of the sweetest and most trust-
ing maidens, just emerging from
childhood, is thrown in his path. i|
Her purity and freshness captivate
his senses, and he courts her with
the result that she gives to him her
virgin heart and looks up to him
as the soul of honour and perfec-
tion. Hugh Murray, a middle-aged lawyer, outwardly cold and unimpres-
sionable, loves her perhaps the more deeply that he is compelled to hide his
feelings. He knows of Renshaw's past life, and warns him that the evil seed
he has sown shall one day yield him a bitter crop. His words soon prove
true, for almost as soon as Renshaw and his wife have left his presence, a
young woman is announced who has come to consult him as to the best
means of discovering her betrayer. She is no other than Janet ; she does
not know the real name of the man she seeks, nor can she give a good
description of him, but she sketches his likeness, and in it Murray recognises
Renshaw. The lawyer for the sake of the young wife temporises with
Janet, and so gets rid of her for the present. Speedy retribution follows
on Renshaw for his evil doings. He and his wife are spending their
honeymoon in Florence. Short as has been his communication with
Leslie, the husband has already learnt to love almost to adoration, her
332
THE THEATRE.
[JUNE I, 1889.
purity and goodness are a constant reproach to him, and he feels that
should she know him in his true character her esteem for him will at once
be destroyed, her love annihilated. Janet Preece has become a
dependent in the household of Mrs. Stonehay, a vulgar, pushing
woman, whose one end and aim is to wed her daughter Irene to Lord
Dangars, a dissolute peer, who has figured in divorce suits in every
capacity except that of petitioner. Irene confides to Leslie that she
loathes the idea of the marriage. Janet, exhausted with a long walk, asks
to be allowed to rest at the Renshaws' villa, and Leslie, having known
her previously, and hearing how unhappy she is in her present situation,
persuades her to stay with them. The result is that Wilfred Brudenell
a noble, manly
young fellow, be-
comes much at-
tached to Janet,
but when he pro-
poses is refused.
Leslie pleads his
cause, and Janet in
explanation of her
refusal has, with the
deepest humiliation,
to confess that she
is a fallen woman.
Renshaw has been
away to prepare a
home for the young
wife w"ho is so look-
ing forward to his
return. His servant
Weaver announces
that his master is
close at hand and
is bringing with him
Lord Dangars.
Leslie is determined that this man, who, though one of title, she looks
upon as all that is base .and to be shunned, shall not be accepted as
a visitor. She expresses herself freely as to his character, of which she has
formed the very worst opinion. This opinion is confirmed when she hears
the ejaculation uttered by Janet Preece when she sees the two men
approaching, for Leslie directly believes that in Lord Dangars she looks on
the girl's betrayer. To raise an insurmountable obstacle to his marriage
with Irene, in no measured terms Leslie charges the nobleman with his
wickedness. He at once says that until that moment he has never set
eyes on Janet Preece. Then the horrible truth reveals itself to this
pare and loving wife, it is against her own husband she should have
JUNE i, 1889.]
OUR PLAY-BOX.
333
launched forth her scorn and contempt. He can only stand and,
broken and ashamed, beseech her forgiveness. Her only answer to his
prayers is " Deny it ! " " Deny it ! " and so at length, when he can but
urge his deep repentance but cannot refute the accusation, she sends him
from her presence, and then, dazed, crushed, and broken, for one moment
she sways to and fro, and then falls with a crash, stricken down senseless-
But a few weeks are supposed to elapse. Leslie and her brother have
returned for a time to London. Wilfred has sought far and near for Janet
who had disappeared. Worn out, he sleeps in an arm-chair, and the poor
334 THE THEATRE. QUNE i, 1889.
lost girl comes to announce that she is leaving England for ever, and she
places one last kiss on the brow of the unconscious lad, who has given her
his first love, and so she fades from our sight, and brother and sister leave
the room to find comfort and support in each other. They are under the
same roof with Hugh Murray, their staunch, unselfish friend. As he sits
pondering on his own and their fates, Renshaw enters ; haggard from sleep-
less nights, worn down with the bitter thoughts that haunt him night and
day, he comes to implore some news of his wife. Murray, assured of his
deep repentance, pities him, but without telling him so determines to bring
man and wife together again, and leaves the room in search of Leslie. Left
alone, Renshaw's future appears so dark, what hope has he or can he have
that the woman who once so believed in him can ever look on him again ;
why should he struggle ? No, let him end it all ! And he is on the point of
putting a close to his miserable existence when his guardian angel whispers
to him that to do this is the act of a coward. If he would show true
repentance, let him bear the burden that Providence in its mercy has decreed
that he shall bear, and so he casts himself down in a humble sense of just
chastisement. The door opens, and he hears the tones of that voice so dear
to him uttering words of forgiveness and support, words which he dared
not hope to hear again • and so, as the blessed sound of " Husband " falls
upon his ears, he throws himself at Leslie's feet, and once more calls her
" wife." Miss Kate Rorke displayed in the one great scene a tragic power
and intensity that were the more noticeable from the contrast with the
happy, girlish temperament so charmingly portrayed in the opening. Her
acting throughout was, as I have already said, perfect, nor was Mr. Forbes
Robertson's less so. These two alone would be seen again and again with
renewed delight. Mr. Hare contented himself with the small part of Lord
Dangars, which he made a great one. Mr. Lewis Waller had a most diffi-
cult rtle to fill, but went through the ordeal more than satisfactorily. Miss
Olga Nethersole was very sweet and tender, and Miss Beatrice Lamb
showed a distinct advance in her profession, though scarcely strong enough
yet for Irene. Mrs. Gaston Murray gave a life-like rendering of a tuft-
hunting, scheming woman. Mr. Sidney Brough was natural and easy,
yet full of manly pathos, and even to the part of Weaver, so well filled by
Mr. Hamilton Knight, the characters were all ably represented. "The
Profligate " is one of the best plays, if not the best, that has been seen for
years, and its success with the public is proportionate.
UNE i, 1889.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 335
"v
"FADDIMIR; OR, THE TRIUMPH OF ORTHODOXY."
N.-w two-act Comic Opera by A KTII i i: KKI:I> ami «isr.\n NKVIU.K.
lii>t produced at the Vaudeville Theatre, Monday afternoon, April 29, 1889.
Faddimir the First . .
Prince Alexis •
Baron Kra/.inski . .
Tarakanoff
Popoff
Sergeant of the (Juan Is
A Courier
Mr. EiucTiiiiK.NK.
(Mr. JIKKBKKT SIMS
( RKKVKS.
K<:K TKMI'LK.
Mr. .losKi'ii Wii.-nN.
Mr. MALCOLM BKLL.
Mr. 11 I-:M><>\.
Mr. MKTCALF.
The Rev Nitro <;iit/.-i-
in-ki
Maii.-
Kiith.-rina
Christina
A Court Lady . .
Anna
) Mr.Wn.KKKJ. I
MtsaFLOKK.M'K I'KKUY.
MiB8 ADA DOKKK.
Mi«s HKATKICK I'KHKV.
M«M Ai.K'i: VMM
Miss LILY LI.NKIKI.H
It lias often been suggested that in case of an assembly of riotous people,
instead of their being charged by the military or police, the fire engines
should be called out and the mob should be well sluiced. The great un-
washed of any nation detest water as a rule, either for outward or inward
application, and have an abhorrence of soap, and it is this rooted aversion
to cleanliness that Mr. Neville has made the motive of his libretto. Alexis,
the next heir to the throne of some country where anarchy and the Greek
Church appear to fight for mastery, should by rights marry Katherina, the
daughter of the reigning monarch, his uncle, Faddimir, but. the young fellow
has set his heart upon Marie, a village beauty, and gets out of the proposed
marriageby pleading that theunion would beunorthodox. Faddimir, toavenge
this insult, at the suggestion of his prime minister Krazinski, issues an edict
that every one of the populace must buy a cake of soap, and lets it become
known that the edict has emanated from Alexis. The people, naturally
indignant at such an interference with their personal liberty, as inflicting
on them cleanliness, rise in rebellion and vow the assassination of their
persecutor. Fortunately he has a friend in the priest Nitro, who persuades
him to join the ranks of the anarchists, which he accordingly does in the dis-
guise of an Irish patriot, and is himself told off to do Alexis to death. As
this is rather difficult and the conspirators become impatient, Marie, who is
to be his colleague in the murder, makes up a dummy of her lover, which is
duly stabbed, and then the Irishman is put on his trial, and of course
reappears in his own proper person as Alexis, and discomfits his uncle, who is
at once deposed by the populace for the obnoxious soap decree. The start-
ing idea is certainly a droll one, and there are some very telling pieces, but
much of the material is rather coarse, and though it produced a good deal
of laughter the work is anything but high class and is really only burlesque.
The music, composed by Mr. Arthur Reed, is, however, without being
strikingly original, bright and tuneful — the overture being specially
worthy of notice.
Miss Florence Perry should scarcely have attempted such an arduous
role as that of Marie, for, admirably as she sang, both with charm and
expression, the strain was too great on a voice whose owner has only
reached her seventeenth summer. Mr. Herbert Sims Reeves was not up
in his words, and neither sang nor acted in such a manner as to aid the
opera, but Mr. Eric Thorne and Mr. Wilfred E. Shine — the latter par-
icularly — were decidedly humorous and carried the piece along. Miss
Lily Linfield danced with exquisite grace and acted with considerable
spirit. "Faddimir" would probably be received with much favour in some
provincial towns.
336 THE THEATRE. [JUNE i, 1889.
"TENTERHOOKS."
Farcical Comedy in three acts, by H. M. Paull.
First produced at the Comedy Theatre, Wednesday evening, May 1, 1889.
Colonel Dubois .. Mr. MAEIUS. i Richards .. .. Mr. A. G. ANDREWS.
Captain Pinniger . Mr. HARRY NiCHOLLS. | Beatrice Dubois .. Miss LOTTIE VENNE.
Jasper Quayle .. Mr. C. H. HAWTREY. Constance Dubois Miss VANE FEATHERSTONE.
Dr. Spencer .. .. Mr. T. G. WARREN. Jane Miss MAUDE RAINES.
Henry Hobbs . . Mr. W. F. HAWTREY. ' Miss Quayle . . . . Miss SUSIE VAUGHAN.
" The Great Felicidad," which was played at a matinee at the Gaiety
Theatre on March 24, 1887, first brought Mr. Paull into prominent notice,
and though his play was undoubtedly clever, it did not prove acceptable,
on account of its only showing us the very worst side of human nature.
In " Tenterhooks " he has given us everyday men and women, with their
faults and failings and with their good and bad points, some remarkably
clever dialogue, some really excellent comedy scenes between the two
principal characters, and some amusing, if rather improbable, situations.
Colonel Dubois, an apoplectic, irritable, and rather hypochondriacal
vieux militaire, has two very pretty daughters. The younger, Con-
stance, has chosen for herself (without letting her father know), Dr.
Spencer ; the elder, Beatrice, is intended for a rather stout and melancholy
but good-hearted retired captain. Pinniger by name. But as the fair
Beatrice does not by any means approve of her elderly lover, and has a
sneaking affection for Jasper Quayle, she coolly proposes to the latter that
they shall pretend to be engaged, hoping that this will lead to a regular
proposal — so it would, no doubt, but that, unfortunately, Quayle is already
married, and, though separated from his wife, a not very estimable
character, he dare not avow his union. Affairs go on in this way, poor
Pinniger's hopes being alternately raised and dashed down again by the
support of the old Colonel, until Jasper determines to tell Beatrice every-
thing, and so takes her for a row at Brighton. Mishaps occur ; they are
driven out to sea, and only return the next morning, when Beatrice tells him
that after the scandal that will arise he cannot do less than marry her.
Miss Quayle, Jasper's maiden aunt, who has hitherto believed her nephew
to be the frankest and most guileless of individuals, has discovered during
his absence that he has long been a Benedict. She insists on Dr. Spencer
going to fetch Mrs. Quayle, who is supposed to be resident at Hove, but
instead of the doctor returning with her he brings her brother-in-law,
Henry Hobbs, a carneying, worthless scamp, who has for some two years
kept up the fiction that she was still alive by producing receipts for her
allowance duly signed by her, she having, with amiable and admirable
foresight, left behind her some two dozen blank receipts to enable the
worthy Hobbs to successfully blackmail his unsuspecting victim, Jasper.
So Jasper marries Beatrice, the Colonel gives Constance to Dr. Spencer,
and poor Captain Pinniger we must admit is very hardly treated, and
remains a bachelor.
Mr. Harry Nicholls deserves great praise for the vein of pathetic
humour that he skilfully exhibits in the character of the well-meaning,
good-hearted, stout, and unromantic Captain Pinniger ; Mons. Marius is
JUNE i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 337
^ _
excellent as peppery, impulsive Colonel Dubois, and Mr. W. F. Hawtrey
makes the comparatively small part of Henry Hobbs a salient point by
his originality and quaintness. Miss Susie Vaughan loses no opportunity
as the kindly old aunt, Miss Quayle. Miss Vane Featherstone is delight-
fully fresh and girlish as Constance, and has a pleasant lover in Mr.
T. G. Wirren, and no more charming little waiting-maid than Miss Maude
Raines has been seen for some time. Of the two principals, Miss Lottie
Venne and Mr. Charles Hawtrey, it is impossible to speak too highly ;
though so intensely laughable and amusing, their parts were played in
the very truest spirit of comedy, and the gentleman's in particular will be
remembered as certainly his cleverest assumption up to this time.
CECIL HOWARD.
©ur ©mmbus^Boy*
The theatrical profession will no doubt fully appreciate the well-deserved
compliment paid to its recognised head, Mr. Henry Irving, and to Miss
Ellen Terry, in receiving the royal command to appear at Sandringham.
For the occasion the ball-room had been converted into a miniature
Lyceum, the proscenium and act -drop of the theatre having been
reproduced on a smaller scale. The following was the programme : —
V.R.— THEATRE ROYAL, SANDRINGHAM.
Royal Entertainment. — By command of their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales,
before Her Majesty the Queen.
On Friday Evening, April 26, 1889.
"THE BELLS."
A drama in three acts, from the " Juif Polonais" of MM. Erckmann-Chatrian.
Mathias ... .. .. Mri HENRY IRVING. : President of the Court .. Mr. TYARS.
Walter Mr. HOWE. Mesmerist Mr. ARCHER.
Hans.. Mr. JOHNSON. Catherine Mrs. PAUNCEFORT.
Christian Mr. ALEXANDER. Sozel Miss LINDKN.
Dr. Zimmer Mr. HAVILAND. Annette Miss COLERIDGE.
Notary . . . . . . Mr. CoVENEY. . Alsace, 1833.
After which the Trial Scene from
"THE MERCHANT OF VENICE."
Shylock Mr. HENRY IRVING.
Duke of Venice . . . . Mr. HOWE.
Antonio Mr. WENMAN,
Bassanio . Mr. ALEXANDER.
Gratiano .. .. .. Mr. TYARS.
Clerk of the Court . . . . Mr. COVENKY.
Nerissa Miss LINDEN.
Portia.. . Miss ELLEN TERRY.
Salarino Mr. HARVEY.
Director, Mr. Irving ; Assistant Director, Mr. Loveday ; Musical Director, Mr. Ball. The scenery
painted by Mr. Hawes Craven ; the act-drop painted by Mr. Hann.
God Save the Queen.
Mr. Irving and Miss Terry had the honour of being presented to Her
Majesty, who graciously congratulated them on their respective impersona-
tions and the excellence of the tout entemblc, and subsequently, through the
Prince of Wales, presented Mr. Irving with a pair of double gold and
diamond sleeve links, and Miss Terry with a brooch, two birds in
diamonds. The whole company (consisting in all of some sixty persons}
after supper returned to town by special train.
338 I HE THEATRE. QUNE ,, ,889:
Mr. Cecil Raleigh's play of " The Inheritance," produced at the Comedy
on the afternoon of Thursday, May 16, contains several powerful situations,
and has the merit of increasing in interest as it goes on ; but it is rather
verbose, and in the two first acts so spun out as to be wearisome. The story
is as follows. Sir Ambrose Mandeville comes of a family the members
of which have, for many generations, ruined themselves by gambling,
and he therefore hates gambling in every form. Having an only
nephew, Jasper Mandeville, he sends him into the Guards,
allowing him only ^150 a year. Naturally the young man finds this
insufficient, so takes to horse-racing, and loses heavily. Sir Ambrose
discovers the fact through the treachery of his brother, Dr. Dennis
Mandeville, who is anxious to secure his brother's fortune for himself, and
immediately executes a new will disinheriting Jasper and leaving every-
thing to his niece, Muriel Hesseltine, who is in love with Jasper. The
doctor has reason to believe that the will will be destroyed, but not that
another will be made so soon. He has, for some time past, been dosing
his brother with chloral diluted with water, of which mixture he gives
him eighty drops. He now leaves for Devonshire, having previously
ordered a fresh bottle to be sent in. This is, of course, undiluted, so that
when Sir Ambrose tells Muriel to give him eighty drops, which she does,
he dies. The doctor returns, finds that the money has been left to Muriel
instead of himself, and insinuates that she has murdered Sir Ambrose,
he having threatened to alter his will in favour of the Doctor if she
persisted in the determination she had expressed of marrying Jasper.
When, however, owing to the intervention of Admiral Brabazon, the
good genius of the play, he finds that he is not likely to succeed in
establishing Muriel's guilt, he pours poison into a cup of tea intended
for her. The Admiral, who has a trick of arranging his hair in public,
sees the proceeding in a pocket mirror which he has in his hand, and
succeeds in drawing off the Doctor's attention and changing the cups. He
then tells the Doctor that he has drunk the tea intended for Muriel. The
Doctor, in an agony of terror, betrays his guilt, and wishes to rush from the
room to obtain an antidote, but the Admiral will not allow him to go till
he has signed a paper explaining the error in the administration of the
undiluted chloral. The Admiral then informs him that he has never drunk
the poisoned tea at all, and the baffled schemer leaves for foreign climes.
Mr. John Beauchamp was excellent as the nervous, irritable Sir Ambrose.
Mr. Royce Carleton as Dennis gave one of those finished impersonations of
villainy in which he excels, and that without the slightest touch of exaggera-
tion or overacting. Mr. Rutland Barrington as Admiral Brabazon played
with admirable bonhomie the part of the good-natured, honourable Admiral.
Miss Vane Featherstone showed both power and feeling as Muriel. The pare
of the Hon. Charlotte Fitzgerald, a lady attached to homoeopathy and the
Admiral, enabled Miss Susie Vaughan to show how sterling an actress she
is, and Mr. Frank Rodney was a very capable Jasper. The other characters
were well filled, particularly that of a young French lady, Adele Desandre,
JUNE i, 1889. OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 339
by Miss Dairolles, but several of them were quite unnecessary to the action
of the piece. The play was very favourably received, and the author was
called and applauded.
Of "Some Day," a new and original play by Mrs. Newton Phillips and
John Tresahar, produced at a matinee at St. George's Hall on May 13, it is
rather difficult to give an account, as the relations between the different
parties were of a very complicated character, everyone being at some time
or another married to every one else, and every one at some time or
another imagining every one else to be dead. It, however, served very
well to show that Miss Adrienne Dairolles, who played the villainous
adventuress of the piece, possesses both power and tact and is capable
of doing work very superior to any in which she has hitherto been
seen, and doing it very well. Miss Dairolles was only moderately
supported, but Mr. Seymour Hicks and Miss May Woolgar Mellon, as the
inevitable pair of youthful lover?, played with great freshness and charm.
" Some Day" was preceded by "Second Thoughts," in which Miss
Evelyn Viron showed considerable ability as Helen Clieveden.
It were waste of time to point out the many improbabilities and
absurdities that abound in Mr. Coleman's new drama ; suffice it that "The
Silent Witness " is ill-adapted to meet the requirements of a West-end
audience, and that it will need much careful revision before it can prove
successful before even the most unsophisticated of transpontine playgoers.
Leonard Denzil, the impecunious heir to an earldom, and Alrick Holt,
the nephew of a wealthy mill-owner, Roger Greythorpe, are rivals for the
hand of Ruth Greythorpe. Leonard, to forward his own suit, attempts—
by inducing Alick to bet heavily and indulge too freely in drink — to debase
him in the eyes of Ruth. In an intoxicated condition Alick finds his way
to Greythorpe's house, where he tries to sleep off the effects of his
debauch. Leonard also enters Greythorpe's abode, and when there is
tempted by the sight of an open safe containing a cash-box full of bank-
notes ; he is in the act of securing to himself the money when be is
confronted by Reuben Holt, Greythorpe's cashier. It is too late to draw
back, a brief struggle takes place, a shot is fired, and Leonard escapes
with the notes in his hand, leaving the cashier dead upon the ground.
The inmates of the house find Alick — still half-dazed with drink — leaning,
horror-stricken, over the dead body; suspicion points to him as the
murderer and the young fellow is arrested. In the meantime Major
O'Boglan, who witnessed the struggle and robbery, has found Leonard's
hat and the stolen money, which, together with a note explaining how they
came into his possession, he immediately secretes. Alick is lodged in jail,
where, curiously enough, he meets most of his old companions — who,
according to the author, are permitted almost unlimited freedom — chief
among them being his foster-brother, Bunny Wolds, who is imprisoned for
340 THE THEATRE. [JUNE i, 1889.
the supposed murder of a gamekeeper. The incarcerated manage to over-
come the warders, and Alick and Bunny contrive to escape. Leonard,
now wealthy, for the last time urges his suit, backed up by Ruth's father,
whose affairs are in a state of bankruptcy, when Alick appears upon the
scene, the missing notes, long hidden between the pages of Gibbon's
" Decline and Fall," are found, and the guilt of the robbery is fastened
upon Leonard. It being an unsettled question whether Reuben's death
was due to accident or design, Leonard is permitted to escape, though it
is indicated that he afterwards ends his miserable life by means of
poisonous pilules which he has carried about with him. Alick and Ruth
are once more happy in their love, and the play ends.
Mr. Frank Cooper, as the unfortunate hero, acted with much skill, and
in one act, where he had opportunity, roused his audience into something
like enthusiasm with a finely-delivered outburst of passion. Considerable
praise is due to Mr. F. M. Paget, who contrived to make Leonard an
interesting being, and whose one love scene was admirably gone through,
and Mr. Gerald Maxwell was fairly good as Reuben, but Mr. John Chute
was, as Roger, too slow and indistinct in his utterance. Mr. W. P.
Dempsey, as Bunny, proved himself a capable comedian, and Mr. S.
Calhaem was capital as Michael, Mr. Harold Maxwell as Major Anson
was praiseworthy, and Mr. T. A. Palmer was sufficiently brutal in voice
and manner as Colonel Bolter. Mr. Lingham, as David, gave his few
lines with considerable effect, and Mr. Claud Llewellyn, as an old Jew, was
characteristic in speech and action. Miss Rose Meller, a young lady
whose personal attractions and evident experience should enable her to
soon secure a position in her profession, contributed, as the heroine, a
highly attractive performance, in which pathos and power were equally well
displayed, and Miss Alice Finch brought her ripened method to bear upon
her impersonation of Joan with excellent results, while Miss Marie Stuart
was fascinating and natural as a wee Scotch lassie.
The burlesque by Mr. " Geoffrey Thorn," ready ever since "Dandy
Dick " became a success at the Court Theatre, was played for copyright
purposes at the Grand Theatre on the afternoon of Saturday, April 27,
under the title " Dandy Dick Turpin," and as an assurance, if one were
needed, that the " Dick Turpin the Second " of " another place " had not
been plagiarised. The audience was small and the company amateurish,
but the result was by no means unsatisfactory. The puns were good and
numerous, the songs were catchy, the topical allusions in good taste, and
the story of the bold highwayman kept well in hand. Miss Lily Mitchell
in the title-ro/e, Miss Louie Wilmot as Tom King, and Mr. Fitzgibbon as
Lady Rookwood, all scored, Mise Wilmot proving herself a graceful dancer.
The burlesque on the same subject by Mr. W. F. Goldberg (known to
fame as " The Shifter ") was brought out at Mr. Charles Harris's benefit
JUNE i, 1889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 341
matinee at the Gaiety on Monday, May 6, and greatly disappointed those
who had expected great things from the author. His story was exceedingly
thin, the puns were daring and not always brilliant, and there were but
few attractive numbers in the score by Herr Meyer Lutz. Neither Miss
Violet Cameron as the Highwayman and Miss St. John as Alice Grey nor
the Messrs. Lonnen (Tom King), Stone, and Harry Parker, with, indeed,
the full strength of the Gaiety, could save the piece from loudly expressed
disapprobation by an indulgent audience.
May opened with quite an avalanche rush of matinees and benefit per-
formances, Mr. James Mortimer setting the ball rolling at Terry's Theatre
on May Day afternoon with a re-adaptation in one act of his translation of
that exquisite petite comedy " La Joie Fait Peur," which he now calls
" Clouds with Silver Linings." He originally called it " Joy is Dangerous."
It served to pleasantly re-introduce Miss Lydia Cowell, who has been
regrettably absent from the stage for two long years, this clever young lady
appearing with her usual brightness, and being supported by Mrs. Phelps,
Miss Amy McNeill, and Messrs. Cautley and Maclean. Mr. Mortimer also
presented a neat adaptation from the French of MM. Michel et Labiche,
which he calls " Oh ! these Widows," a farcical comedy in three acts, with
a somewhat conventional set of characters engaged in ravelling and
unravelling a series of not too ingeniously invented complications. The
dialogue was witty, and, being well interpreted by, among others, Miss
Sophie Larkin and Miss Lydia Cowell and Messrs. Eric Lewis and King-
home, the result was successful. Before the piece is again staged, it
should be furnished with additional action, and then it might make its
mark.
The special attraction at the benefit organised at the Olympic on
Wednesday, May 8, for the children of the late John Vollaire was a very
clever, and, withal, modest adaptation by Elizabeth Bessie, from Pailleron,
entitled "The Electric Spark," which won, as it deserved, warm favour.
The three characters — a young widow, Lady Treherne ; her goddaughter,
Geraldine ; and Captain Norreys were all capitally played by Miss Amy
McNeill, Miss Mary Bessie, and Mr. S. Herberte Basing, the plot turning
upon the young girl finding out and unselfishly giving up her lover, the
gallant captain, to his truer love the widow lady. This merry trifle is sure
to be heard of again, but it is not likely to be better played than it was on
its initial production.
Another unpretentious triologue comedietta is "Well Matched," by
Mr. Philip Havard, produced at the St. James's Theatre on Tuesday
afternoon, May 14, with other attractions, for the benefit of Mr. John
Huy. The writing is smart and the plot interesting and well constructed,
if rather improbable. A very rich American widow (Miss Kate Phillips)
342 THE THEATRE. UUNE i, 1889.
applies to her solicitor concerning the matrimonial prospects of her
daughter with the impecunious Earl of Banford (Mr. Lionel Brough), and,
mistaking the Earl for the lawyer's clerk, becomes enamoured of him with
the titular result. Young Mr. Sydney Brough, as the lawyer who is con-
tent to accept the daughter whom we hear of only, materially helped by
his clever acting towards the pronounced success. The scenes between
Mr. " Lai " Brough and Miss Phillips were highly amusing.
Miss Lottie Venne commenced her theatrical career at the age of
sixteen, and after two years' provincial experience obtained her first
London engagement with Mrs. Swanborough at the Strand Theatre,
where she remained three years playing soubrette parts in comedy and
burlesque. She next created the part of Amy Jones in "Crutch and
Toothpick" at the Royalty, and then accomplished a pronounced
success as Betsy in the play of that name which ran for sixteen
months. Engagements at the Gaiety and Comedy followed ; from
thence Miss Venne migrated to the Court and played Molly Ledger
in " Parvenu," another great success both in London and the provinces.
Amongst Miss Venne's most noted impersonations may be quoted Mrs.
Dick Chetwyn in " Young Mrs. Winthrop," Mrs. Poskett in " The
Magistrate," Mistress Honour in " Sophia," Rosa Colombier in " The
Arabian Nights," Mrs. Bardell in the musical cantata " Pickwick,"
Beatrice Dubois in "Tenterhooks." Of few actresses can it be said,
as of Miss Lottie Venne, that in no part has she ever made a failure,
and now reigns as one of the best appreciated and favourite actresses
on the stage.
A very successful concert was given at the Steinway Hall on Monday,
May 13, by Miss Louise Borowski, a lady who possesses remarkable
talent as a pianoforte player. Miss Borowski was assisted by several well-
known and very able performers, the most notable of whom were Signer
Mhanes, Mrs. Alymer-Gowing, Mr. Gilbert Trent, and Miss Adele Myers,
whose artistic rendering of a new and charming ballad called " The Willow
Leaf," by Margaret Brandon, roused the audience to enthusiasm, the
singer being three times recalled and encored. The concert was most ably
conducted by Messrs. Edwin Shute and Claude Trevor.
Notices of " Mignonette," " Penelope," " The Grandsire," " Dregs,"
** Her Father," end Italian Opera are perforce held over for want of space.
UNE i, ,889.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 343,
^f~r£
New plays produced, and important revivals, in London from April 25,
1889, to May 1 6, 1889.
Revivals are marked thus *
April 27. " Wealth," original play of modern life, in four acts, by Henry
Arthur Jones. Haymarket.
„ 27. " Dandy Dick Turpin," new burlesque, in two acts by Geoffrey
Thorn. Matinee. Grand.
„ 27. "The Fatal Wager," romantic drama, in two acts (author not
stated). Sadler's Wells.
„ 29. " Faddimir ; or, the Triumph of Orthodoxy," two-act comic
opera, by Arthur Reed and Oscar Neville. Matinee.
Vaudeville.
„ 29.* " Claudian," by Henry Herman and W. G. Wil;s. Princess's.
May i. "Oh! These Widows," farcical comedy, in three acts, by
James Mortimer, on the French of Michel and Labiche.
Matinee. Terry's.
„ i. "Tenterhooks," farcical comedy, in three acts, by H. M. Paull.
Comedy.
„ 4. " Mignonette," new romantic comic opera, in three acts ; words
by Oswald Brand, music by Henry Parker. Royalty.
„ 6. "Dick Turpin the Second," new burlesque, in two acts, by
W. F. Goldberg. Matinee. Gaiety.
„ 6. " For a Life," drama, in four acts, by J. McClosky. Surrey.
,, 6. " Lucky Star," drama, in four acts, by George Comer. Elephant
and Castle.
„ 7. " Whips of Steel," comedy-drama, in four acts, by Jcseph J.
Dilley and Mary C. Rowsell. St. George's Hall.
,, 8.* " Forget-me-Not," drama, by Herman Merivale and Florence
Grove. Matinee. Opera Comique.
,, 8. "The Electric Spark," comedy, adapted from the French of
Pailleron, by Elizabeth Bessie. Matinee. Olympic.
„ 9. "Penelope," musical version of Brough and Halliday's fane,.
"The Area Belle ;" words of the songs by George P. Hawtrey,
music by Edward Solomon. Matinee. Comedy.
,, 9. "Angelina," new three-act comedy, adapted by W. Cooper
from M. Bisson's " Une Mission Delicate." Matinee.
Vaudeville.
,, 13. "Some Day," new play, in three acts, by Mrs. Newton Phillips
and John Tresahar. Matine'e. St. George's Hall.
„ 14. "Well Matched," comedietta, in one act, by Philip Havard.
Matine'e. St. James's.
., 15 "The Grandsire," three-act play, adapted by W. Archer Wood-
house from M. Richepiri's " Le Flibustier." Matinee. Terry's,
,, 15. "The Queen's Shilling," comedy, in three acts, by W. Godlr \.
Matine'e. Court.
544 1HE THEATRE. [JUNE i, 1889.
May 1 6. "The Inheritance," original play, in four acts, by Cecil Raleigh.
Matinee. Comedy.
, 1 6. " Her Father," drama, in three acts, by Edward Rose and John
Douglass. Matinee. Vaudeville,
,, 1 6. " Dregs," dramatic sketch, by Alec Nelson. Matinee. Vaude
ville.
In the Provinces, from April 10 to May 9, 1889 : —
April 20. " The Dream of Hazeldene," drama, in four acts, by J. P.
Dryden. Grand Nelson.
,, 22. "Shane-na-Lawn," comedy-drama, in three acts, by James C.
Roach and J. Armory King. Alexandra Theatre, Liverpool.
,, 22. "Proscribed," comedy-operetta, in one act; libretto by Gilbert
Stanford, music by Cedric Hardie. Victoria Hall, Bayswater.
„ 24. " The Village Post Office," play, in one act, by Dr. G. H. R.
Dabbs. Shanklin Institute, Isle of Wight.
„ 24. " Oar Pal," one-act play, by Dr. G. H. R. Dabbs. Shanklin
Institute, Isle of Wight.
,, 26 "Outwitted," original comedietta, in two acts, by Mrs. Walter
Serle. Aquarium, Scarborough.
May 3. " Love at First Sight," comedietta, by Major Jocelyn, R.A.
R. A. Theatre, Woolwich.
„ 6. " Fair Flay," melodrama, in five acts, by Charles Crozier and
Percy Milton. Prince's, Bradford.
„ 6. " A Wife's Devotion," new play, in a prologue and three acts,
by J. H. Darnley and G. M. Fenn. Shakespeare Theatre,
Liverpool.
„ 9. "Tricks," farcical comedy, in three acts, by Wilford E. Field.
T.R., Barnsley.
In Paris, from April 16 to May 15, 1889 : —
April 1 8. " Vfensonges," play, in five acts, by MM. Leopold Lacour and
Pierre Decourcelle, suggested by the novel of M. Paul
Bourget. Vaudeville.
„ 20. ' Riquet a la Houppe," fairy comic opera, in three acts ; libretto
by MM. PauLFerrier and Charles Clairville, music by M.
Louis Varney. Folies-Dramatiques.
May i.* " Durand et Durand," three-act comedy-vaudeville, by MM.
Maurice Ordonneau and Valabregue. Palais Royal.
,, 15. " Esclarmonde," romantic opera, in four acts ; libretto by MM.
Alfred Blau and Louis de Gramont, music by M. Massenet.
Opera Comique.
.-..
PN Thf
T4.
.4
v.13
PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET
UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY
Live Music Archive
Librivox Free Audio
Metropolitan Museum
Cleveland Museum of Art
Internet Arcade
Console Living Room
Books to Borrow
Open Library
TV News
Understanding 9/11