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•••••••• •••*»•*«• 9 •»§»*»»»»*»»»*»»**«»» 9

THE THEATRE.

HUbteto

OF THE

DRAMA, MUSIC, AND THE FINE ARTS.

EDITED BY

BERNARD CAPES AND CHARLES EGLINGTON.

(NEW SERIES.

VOL. XVI.— JULY TO DECEMBER, 1890.

Uontton :

EGLINGTON & CO., 78 & 78A, GREAT QUEEN STREET, W.C.

1890.
[All rights reserved.']

3-OOI

, Lf.
V/.lfe

61R551

LIST OF PHOTOGRAPHS.

MISS BESSIE HATTON.
MISS ELEANOR LEYSHON.
MISS DECIMA MOORE.
MISS MAY WHITTY.
MISS MARY COLLETTE.
MISS ROSINA FILIPPI.
MR. SYDNEY GRUNDY.

GROUP FROM " JUDAH " :
Miss OLGA BRANDON AND MR.
E. S. WILLARD.

MR. COURTICE POUNDS.

MR. JOSEPH TAPLEY.

GROUP FROM " STILL
WATERS RUN DEEP " :
Miss MARY MOORE AND MR.
CHARLES WYNDHAM.

MR. FRED TERRY.

PRINTED AT THK OFFICE!* OF THE Pflil.lSHEKS.

INDEX.

•f-

" ADOPTION" 31

Adye, Oscar . . . .30. 287

Alexander, G 234 ^ 278

Amadi, Madame . . . .184
Ambruster, Miss Violet . . .31
" Antony and Cleopatra " : its stage

history 267

" Antony and Cleopatra " : Mrs Lang-
try's production at the Princess's, 287
" Art and Love " . . . .78

Art Notes 298

Ashley, H 184

" As You Like It " . . . .90
Aylward, Miss . . . .281

BANCROFT, MRS.
Basing, S. H. .
Barry, Shiel . .
Barton, Miss Adah .
Bath Stage, Annals of the

13,

Bayntum, H. .
"Beau Austin"
Bedford, Henry
Benefit to the widow of the

E. L. Blanchard, the .
Bennett, Mrs. .
Beringer, Miss Vera
"Best People, The"
Beveridge, J. D.
Bishop, A. ...
" Black Rover, The "
Blakeley, W. . . 82,
Boleyn, R. S. .
Bond, Frederick
" Bookmaker, The "
Bosworth, Mr.
Bourchier, Arthur .
Boucicault, A.
Boucicault, Dion, death of
Bowman, Miss Emmie
Boyne, Leonard
Brandon, Miss Olga
" Bride of Love, The " .
Brennan, Miss Maude
Brodie, Matthew
Brooke, Mrs. E. H. .
Brookfield, C. .
Brough, Lionel
Brough, Miss F.
Brough, Sydney
Broughton, Miss Phyllis .

232

72, 124. 175

. 89

. 279

. 30, 86

late

. 48
. 8-4
. 134
. 101
. 135
. 194
231

87, 191, 137
. 282

35, 80, 137
. 139
. 90
. 31, 80
. 191
. 204
. 29
31, 135
44, 13.~>
. 20
. 236
. 46
. 31
, 285

25,

241

189

184

Bruce, Edgar . . . . .132
Brydone, Alfred ....

Bucklaw, Mr

Buckstone's, Miss Lucy, benefit . »U

" Buried Talent, A " . . • r>°

Burleigh, C, 287

"By the Sea" 29

CARLETON, ROYCE .... 23

Calhaem, Miss E 136

•'Called Back" .... 233
" Captain Therese " . . .183

" Carmen Up to Data " . . . 237

Carter, John 84

" Casting the Boomerang "
Cavendish, Miss Ada ... 29
Champion, P. S, ... 255

Chapuy. Miss Effie .... 232
Cheatham, Miss Kitty . . 35,137
Chester. Miss Edith " . . 80,133

Chevalier, A 233, 283

Christopher Marlowe, biographical

sketch of .... 8

Claire, Miss Attalie . . .184
Clarke, George . . . 90, 137
Clay. Miss Lila . . . .241
Clements, Miss Effie . . .241
Cooper, F. Kemble . . . .287
Collette, Charles . . . 32, 232

Colnaghi, C. T 31

Coffin, Hayden . . . .184
Coghlan, Charles .... 287
Concerts, promenade, at Covent

Garden, HO

" Convict's Wife, A " . . • ">1
Cowell. Miss Lydia . . 34, 45,285
Craig, Gordon . . . .194

Crane, Miss Edith .... 80

Crauford,J. R 132

Critic's Gallicisms 216

Cross. Henrietta .... 84
Cross', Julian . . 84. S5. 235. 280
"Cyrene" 81

DAMON, C 18">

Daly, Miss Maria . . . .191

Dalziel. G 139

. 235
. 184
. 239
. 185
46

Dana, H.

Darley, Miss F.

Dawson, Miss Jenny

" Deacon, The "

t; Dear Departed, The "

INDEX. •

Bearing, Miss Rose . . .84
De Lara's,Jsadore, concert . . 92
" Delicate Ground " . . .87
Denza's, Signor, concert . . 38
Dene, Miss Dorothy . . . 133
D'Orsay, Lawrence . . . .85
Dramatic criticism : from a dra-
matic critic's point of view. . 55
Drew, John . . .35, 80, 90
Drummond, Miss D. 235
Dwyer, M 241

" ELAINE "
Ellison, Miss Clara .
" English Rose, The "
Erlynne, Roy den
Esmond, H. V.
Everill, Mr.
Eversfield, Harry

. 102

. 8(5

. 134

. 232

S'.l. 28(i

. 80

130

"FAILURE, A" .... 225
Fane, Lady Augusta . . .31
Farren, William . . . 130, 139

"Fazio" 83

Featherstone, Miss Vane . 30,131

Fenton, F. H 131

Fernandez, Mr 283

Ferrar, Miss Blanche ... 89

Fisher, C 90

Fitzroy.MissE. S. . . . .191

Forsyth, Miss E 138

Forsyth, Miss Helen . . 82. 191
Forsyth, Kate .... 130

Francis, A. B 86

Frances, Miss F. 88, 191

Freeman, Lewis . . . .132
Friedheim's, M. and Madame, recital 39

GARDINER, E. W 134

Giddens, G. 38, 87, 191

Gilbert, Mrs. G. H. . . . 35, 80
Gilmoie, Frank .... 32
Glenny, C. 130, 139, 189

Gadowsky's, Leopold, recital . . 39
"Gold Mine, A" . . . .129
Goodwin, Nat .... 130, 139

Gould, N 233, 278

Gourlay, Miss Louise ... 85

Graham, J. G 285

Grahame, Miss Cissy . .131, 282
" Grandsire, A " .51

" Great Unknown, The " . 136

" Gretna Green " . . . 38, 46
Grey, Miss Sylvia .... 82
Groves, Miss Laura .... 233
Grundy, Sydney . . . .46
Gurney, Edmund . . . 82. P 3
" Guy Fawkes, Esq.'' . . .' 155

HARDINGE, Miss M. . . . mi
Harris, Charles . . . .184
Hatton, Miss Bessie . . .47
Hawtrey, Charles . . . .'54, 285
" Head or Heart " .... 46
Hendrie, Ernest . . . 29, 89

Herbert, Wm 131, 236

Kingston, Miss Lilian . . .82
" His Last Chance " . . . . 256

Holies, Alfred 2711

Hope, Miss Ethel . . sit

Horlock, Miss Blanche
Hughes, Miss Annie

284
31

ILLINGTON, Miss MARIE . . 30

" Illusion " 84

ILLUSTRATIONS : —

" A Million of Money," . 187, 188
Bath in the time of Shake-
speare. . . . .13
Bernhardt, Sara, from a picture

by George Clairin . . . 298
'• Carmen Up to Data " . . 237
Cleopatra, by W. H. Margetson 296
Gainsborough, Thomas, por-
trait of .... 176
Humm, Miss Jenny as Cupidon

in " The Bride of Love." . 26
Jay, Miss Harriett as Psyche in

" The Bride of Love." . 27

Jecks, Miss Clara as Fridon in

" The Bride of Love." . 26

Lind, Miss Letty,as Euphrosyne

in " The Bride of Love." 28

Prior Park Theatre, Bath. . 126
Prynne, William, portrait of . 16
Title-page of Prynne's " Histrio

Mastix." . . . .17
Young Girl and Death, the,
from picture by Sara Bern-
hardt 299

" In a Day," 45

Irish, Miss Annie .... 80
Irving,-Henry .... 194

Irving, Miss Isabel . . 80, 90, 137
Ivanowa, Miss Claire . . .84
Ivor, Miss Frances . . 29, 89, 287

JAMES, Miss K 135

Jay, Miss Harriett . . .29, 89
" Jeanne D'Arc" . . . .102
Jecks, Clara . . . . 81, 135

"Jilted" 138

Jones, Miss Maria .... 239

Jones, Mr. H. A 303

"Judah" 24

" Judge, The " 130

KAYE, F 86, 283

Kellie's, Lawrence, second and

third recitals
Kemble, H
Kennedy, G
Kenney's, Miss Rosa, recital .

Kerr, F

Kinghorne, Mark ...
Kingsley, Miss Mary ..
Kirwan, P. J

Kleeberg's, Mdlle., concert .
Knight, F. Hamilton ..

" LA ClGALE " .
" La Lutte pour la Vie "
Lange, H. de .
Langtry, Mrs. .
Larkin, Miss Rhoda
Larkin, Miss Sophie
Lawford, Ernest
Lawson, W.
Lea, Miss Marion
Leclercq, Charles

. 38

. 34

. 235

. 51

233, 284

. 131

. 29

. 82

. 39

. 81

. 240
. 47

. 80

! 233

. 34, 286

. 80, 132

. 284

85, 236, 286
. 35, 90

Leclercq, Miss Carlo tta . . 130, 139
Leclercq, Miss Rose . 31, 85, 281

Le Hay, John 232

Leigh, Henry 32

Leigh, Miss Helen .... 134

Leigh, Mrs. C 283

Lestocq, W 131. 2*2

Le Thiere, Miss . . . . ' 11)4

Lewes, Marie 45

Lewis, Eric 241

Lewis, James . . 3.">, 80, 1)0,137
Leyshon, Miss E. . . 87, 235, 281
,, ,, biography of 100

Ley ton, Miss Helen . . . .131
Linden, Miss Laura . . .29
Linden, Miss Marie .... 23.">
Lind, Miss Letty .... 211
" Little Nobody " . . . .131

Lonnen, E. J 238

Loraine, H 287

Lovel, Miss Gertrude . . . 32

Ludwig, W 232

Lugg, W 4.".

Luna, Miss 21)

Lyceum season, end of . . . 48

MACAULEY, ME 00

"Macbeth," recitals of, by Mr. Irving

and Miss Terry 102

Mackenzie, Dr. A. C. . . 21), ] 1)4
Mackintosh, Burr . . . .80

Macklin, F. H 1 94

Macklin, Mrs 235

"Madcap" 255

Marius, M 236, 286

Marlowe, memorial benefit . . J 00
Marriott, Miss . . . .11)4

Marryat, Miss Florence . . .4(5
Matthews, Sant .... 25
Maurice, E. . . , .138

" May and December " . . . 284
McNulty, Miss Jennie . . 130. 131)
McNeil, Miss Amy . . . .287
M'Ewan, Walter . . 34

Miller, P 235

" Million of Money, A " . . . 180
Millett, Miss Maude . . 34,278
Millward, Miss Jessie . . . 189
Moore, Miss Adelaide . . . 52
Moore, Miss Decima, biography of 1 54
Moore, Miss Mary .... 87

Monkhouse, H 184

MUSICAL SILHOUETTES : —

The Infant Prodigy . . .241
The Al Fresco Minstrel . .11)5
The Amateur Composer . .140
The Drawing-room Tenor . 2ss
The Eminent Pianist . . 91
The Foreign Composer. . . 3(5
"My Luggage" . . .68. los

" My Mother " 21)

" My Friend Jarlet " . . .281

NAUCAZE, Madame de
" Nancy and Company "
Neilson, Miss Ada .
Neilson, Miss Julia .
Nelson, James .
" Nerves "

7!)

278

284

Neville, Henry . . .82. 89
Neville's Dramatic Studio, students'

examination. . . . .154
New productions in London and Pro-
vinces, lists of

52, 103, 155, 207, 259, 303
New productions in Paris, lists of

54, 104, 156, 208, 260, 304
" New Wing, The " . . . . 32
Nicholls, Harry . . . .189

Norman, E. B 89

Norreys, Miss .... 134, 285

OBEHAMMAGAU PASSION PLAY, THE 1
" Old Friends " .... 81
" Old Maid's Wooing, An " . . 89
Our Amateurs' Play-Box. 39, 94,143
198, 246, 288

Our Art Gallery . . . .297
Our Musical-Box.

36, 91, 140, 195, 243, 294
Our Omnibus-Box

44, 98, 147, 201, 252, 301
Outram, Leonard . . . 29, 32

PADEKEWSKI'S, M., CONGEST . 38
" Papa's Honeymoon " . . .82
" Paris Fin de Siecle "... 50

Parker, Harry 184

Penley, W. S 131

" Pharisee, The "... 285, 301

Phillips, G.B 132

Phillips; Miss K 233

Phillips, Stephens .... 46
Plays, the worship of bad . . 261

Playwriting 157

POETRY : —

" Curtain " 6

" Synariss " . . . .60
"Love Is It Well" . . .123
" A Player's Pride " . . 168
" Verses Suggested by the Love
Songs of the Seventeenth Cen-
tury" . . . . 174
" Not Anchored Yet " . .75
Ponsonby, Eustace .... 31
" Poor Yorick ! " . . . . 213
Pounds, Courtice, biography of . 153
Prince, Miss Adelaide . . 35, 90
" Punchinello " .... 79

" QUEEN'S COUNCIL " . . .45
Quinton, Mark .... 136
Quin's monument in Bath Abbey . 180

RAMSEY, C *• 5

" Ravenswood " . . . . 191
Rehan, Miss Ada . . 35, 80, 90
Richter soncert, the fifth . . 39
Righton, Edward .... 34
Rignold, Lionel . . .29, 135
Ritta, Miss Emma . . . .132
" Riverside Story, A " . . .30
Robins, Miss . . . . 79, 236

Robson, E. M 45

Roe, Bassett . . . 29, 79, 135
Rorke, Miss Kate .... 31
Rorke, Miss Mary . . . .135
Ross, Herbert . . . 32

INDEX.

Rowney, A 132

Russell, W 132

SARASATE'S, Signer, first concert .
Saxe, Templar ....
Schuberth, Miss Annie .
Scovel, Chevalier ....
Seaman, Miss Julia ....

Scare, B. P

" Seaside Mania "
Shakespeare, in and out of

Shepherd, F

Shine, J. L

Silvie, Miss May ....
" Sixth Commandment, The " .

Skinner. Otis

Slaughter, Walter ....
Smith, H. Reeves . . 134, 139,

"Smoke,"

" Solicitor, The " .

" Sowing and Reaping " .

Somerset, C. W

Stage realities ....
Stage, the amateur stage as a step-
ping-stone to the
Standing, Harry

St. Ange, Miss J

Stage superstitions, modern .
Stanley, Miss A. .
Stedman's, Mr., choir
Steinberg, Amy

246
46
46

241

283

257

113

189

135

136

235

136

235

281

134

218

Stephens, Yorke

" Still Waters Run Deep

Stirling, Arthur

St. John, Miss F. .

" Struggle For Life, The"

" Sunlight and Shadow ''

" Sugar and Cream "

" Swarry Dansong, A "

" Sweet Nancy "

" Sweet Lavender," revival of

" Sweet Will " .

. 189
. 236
. 272
. 233
. 29
. 30

30, 34, 277
. 258

79, 82, 287
. 238
. 232
. 277
. 31
. 50
. 88
234
132

" TAMING OF THE SHREW "
Tapley, Joseph

i) » biography of

Terriss, Miss E.
Terriss, William
Terry, Miss Ellen ....

Terry, F 28,

Terry, Miss Marion . . .82,

Terry, Miss Minnie .

" Time's Revenges " ...

Thalberg, T. B

" That Girl "

Theatrical advertising, curiosities of
The stalls, the pit. and the critic .
" This Woman and That "

138,

101
184
204
191
194
194
284
27S
286
30
29
133
221
20
135

Thorne, Miss E 131

Thorneycroft. Miss Violet . . 283

" Three and Fourpence " . . 170

" Throw of the Dice, A " . . 32

Tree, B 28, 283

Tree, Mrs 28 L

Tresahar, John .... 86

"Truth" 190

"Twelfth Night," Miss E. Bessie's

company in 57

" Two Recruits " 282

ULMAR, Miss GERALDINE . . 241
" Up Train, The " . . . .31

31,

79,

83,

83,
34,

86,

87,

84. 236,
78, 236,

VALENTINE, S.
Venne, Miss Lottie.
"Vera" .
Vernon. W. H.
Victor, Miss M. A. .
" Village Priest, A "
Vining, Miss E.
'; Wagner Society, The
Waller, Lewis .
Wallis, Miss .
" Wall of China, The "
"Wanted, A Wife"
Ward, Miss Genevieve

Waring, H 236,

Warren, T. G

Warner, C

Watson, Ivan .... 85,

Webster. Ben . . .79. 234.

Webster. Miss Davies

Webster. Sir Augustus

•' Welcome. Little Stranger" .

Wenman, Mr

Wentworth, Graham
Wheatleigh, Charles
Whitty, Miss May, biography of
Why are we playgoers .'
Willard, E. S. . . . 25. 44,
„ ,, a biographical and critical

sketch of

Williams, Arthur . . .34,
•' Witch's Haunt, The " . .
Wit, pit and gallery
" Woman's Wont, A "

Wood, Frank

Wood. F

Worcester Festival ....
Wyes. Mr.
Wyndham, Charles

285

235

138

280

286

234

286

191

189

236

279

137

194

204

105

185

YORK, Cecil M.
Yorke, Oswald
" Your Wife ".

161
239
152
117
137
130
139
198
285
S7

83
32

THE THEATRE.

The Oberammagau Passion Play,

BY JEROME K. JEROME.

0 those who can afford the time and the money, and
whose constitution can support a fifteen hundred mile
journey, and an eight hours sitting still upon a hard seat,
I would strongly recommend a visit, somtime during the
next two months, to the quaint, but now busy, little
village of Oberammagau, nestling high up among the
Bavarian highlands.
There is the sea passage to be faced, and, after that, some twenty-
five hours' steady railway run to Munich. From there, a further five
hours behind the slow-going, often-stopping steam horse of Germany,
brings the pilgrim by a winding, climbing line to Ober, a tiny hamlet
at the foot of the Alps, whence, up a steep mountain road, he is jolted
in a shaky thing on wheels (I do not know what it would be called!
in English) to Oberammagau, some four Saxon miles further on.

At Oberammagau, he or she must be prepared for plain living and
lodging, and for finding his or her best German of very little use ; and,
on the day, generally Sunday, of the play, he or she must rise early,
and sit quiet and well behaved for eight hours on a chair.

But it is well worth all this trouble. It is worth going far, in this
nineteenth century world, to reach a corner where people still be-
lieve in a faith, where people will work and make effort for love of
something else than £. s. d.

The peasant players of Oberammagau train and prepare them-
selves for years beforehand, labour for many months at study and
rehearsal, and give one or two whole day performances a week, during
four months, for a wage that just about supplies the place of what they
would have earned in the same time at wood carving or mountain
farming.

The profits on the series of performances, must, in spite of the
heavy preliminary expense, be very considerable ; but these are
divided upon a socialistic principle. One third is put aside for the
benefit of the community,"one third, or maybe a little more, goes to the
Mother Church (our socialist friends would hardly approve this

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI. A

2 THE THEATRE. [JULY l, 1890.

part of the arrangement, I fancy), and the remainder is divided
among the six or seven hundred performers,— more than half the
population of the village.

This gives a gross sum of about a little over fifty pounds to the
chief actors for the whole series of some thirty performances, and
about some ten or twelve to those of lesser importance, while the
crowd of children and " supers," -as we should term them, are content
to receive for their long and arduous labours during the sixteen weeks
that the play " runs," a total sum of a hundred marks.

But, if these unworldly minded enthusiasts do not grow much in
pocket by their work, they have their reward in honour. To play a
part, if only a " super's " part, in the great Passion Play is the hope
and aim of every well constituted inhabitant of Oberammagau — to
perform a leading part therein, his highest ambition. To him, his
performance is no mere piece of acting, no mere piece of business, it
is a sacred religious rite.

On the morning of the play while the thousands of curious
visitors from all quarters of the globe, and of devout worshippers
from the neighbouring hill-side villages and towns are taking up
their seats in the large wooden theatre that stands like some rude
temple in a mountain wilderness, he, behind the curtain, is kneeling
with his fellows, praying for a blessing on the holy task — as it seems
to- him — that has been allotted to him.

At eight o'clock (you have to be up early to see the Oberammagau
Passion Play) the little cannon, planted high above the village on the
guardian rock of the Kofel, booms twice, and the strange tragedy
begins.

Before giving an account of what follows, some description of the
stage and of the method of the play is necessary.

The main portion of the stage is a vast platform, open to the sky.
This is used for the chorus and other processions, and for so much of
the play proper as demands more space than is afforded by the smaller
central stage. This central stage stands at the back of the larger
stage, from which it is separated by a curtain, and is used for the
tableaux vivants, and for the usual dramatic scenes. On each side
of. this central stage are openings which are painted to represent
streets in Old Jerusalem, and along these streets, on to the greater
stage, pass the crowds and processions. It is up one of these streets
that we first see Christ advancing, followed by the joyous crowd,
welcoming Him to Jerusalem ; it is along the other street, that towai ds
the end, we see Him toiling slowly with His cross, while the same
crowd jeers and mocks upon His heels. Next to these openings stand —
the one on the left of the stage and the other on the right — the palaces
of Pilate and of Annas, the priest ; and again beyond these, at the
two extreme corners of the stage, the entrances through which the
Chorus pass to and fro.

The duty of the Chorus is to comment upon and explain the play
as it progresses. Before the commencement of each act, they enter
—the men from one side and the women from the other— and stand

JULY 1, 18CO.] THE OBEEAMMAGAU PASSION PLAY. 3

in a line across the stage. The chief of the Chorus, with melodramatic
tones and gestures, foreshadows the events of the coming act, and
makes clear its meaning. The Chorus then divide and retire to the
sides of the platform, leaving an uninterrupted view of the small,
central stage at the back, upon which, when the curtain is drawn
aside, is seen grouped a living picture.

One or more of these tableaux vivants precede each act of the
drama. They represent scenes from the Old Testament, bearing upon
the events which are about to be enacted : thus, the sixth act of the
play, which deals with the betrayal of Christ by Judas, is introduced
by a tableau representing Joseph being sold by his brethren for twenty
pieces of silver ; while the eleventh act," Christ accused before Pilate
by the High Priests," is ushered in by a picture of the prophet Daniel
being falsely accused before King Darius.

While the pictures stand — which they do with admirable stillness
for some two or three minutes, not even the most infantile of the two
and three hundred living models sometimes needed, seeming to move
so much as an'eyelid — the Chorus, to the accompaniment of weird
Haydnisque strains from an unseen orchestra, sing a kind of rude
poem, commenting upon the scene and pointing out its connection
with the drama.

When the tableaux are finished with, the Chorus liles off, and the
stage is left clear for the play.

The first act — there are eighteen in all — is preceded by a couple of
tableaux typical of the whole drama. The first represents the expul-
sion of Adam and Eve from Eden, symbolical of the Fall ; the
second, the Adoration of the Cross, symbolical of the Redemption.

These are followed by the act, dealing with the triumphal entry
of Christ into Jerusalem. We see Christ seated upon the ass, and
surrounded by His disciples, slowly wending His way along the
narrow streets of Jerusalem, while, thronging around them, the ever-
increasing crowd shout " Hosannas," and sing their songs of gladness.

The mimic scene wonderfully realises one's ideal of the great
event. The Christ is dignified, impressive and beautiful ; the dis-
ciples seem to have stepped out from the faded canvases of the old
masters, and the surging pressing crowd— marvellously stage
managed — is full of life and reality.

Christ then proceeds to drive the money changers from the
Temple, as described in Mark xi. This excites the anger of the
priests, and the act closes with the hatching of the conspiracy
between these men and the Pharisees and traders to work the
Saviour's death.

The second act, which is heralded by a tableau showing the sons
of Jacob conspiring against their brother Joseph, takes place in the
Sanhedrin, and explains the progress of the High Priests' plotting.

In Act iii. occurs the incident of the anointment of Christ's feet
by Magdalena, and Judas's remonstrance at the waste of money, and
generous thoughts about the poor, himself included. So far as mere
acting is concerned, the part of Judas affords by far the best oppor-

4 THE THEATRE. [JULY 1, 1890.

trinity of any in the play, but the performer who now essays the part
gives it no help, and the character does not in consequence attain its
full significance.

The best played part in the drama is this year undoubtedly that of the
Virgin Mary. The woman's soul looks out of her face, and her voice
is the voice of human love and suffering.

The parting at Bethany between Christ and His mother, which also
occurs in this act, is the most moving scene in the tragedy. Mary's
Son is going to face sorrow and death at Jerusalem. To others, He
is the Christ, the Saviour, and His way is ordained. But to Mary He
is something more. She is but a woman, and He is the baby that she
suckled — her boy, her son. She would wrap her mother's arms round
Him, and keep Him safe. Her cry is the cry of a mother parting
from her child, and it pierces very deep into the heart.

The fourth act is chiefly occupied with the temptation of Judas.
The fifth is introduced by a tableau depicting the rain of manna in
the wilderness. This is one of the most crowded, yet beautifully
arranged, tableaux in the play. Some four hundred men, women,
and children are employed in it, and the grouping is nearly perfect.
In the act itself we see the Last Supper, and the scene is a copy of
Leonardo da Vinci's well-known picture. Christ foretells His betrayal,
and, in answer to the importunities of the disciples, including those
of Judas himself, names the betrayer. The scene is dramatic, even
almost exciting.

The sixth act takes place in the Sanhedrin again. Judas and the
priests are bargaining as to the price of the betrayal. Thirty pieces
of silver are paid to Judas across the altar, and Judas counts them into
his purse. " This day He shall be in your hands," says the traitor
as he departs ; and the council breaks up crying, " Let Him die, let
Him die ! "

Act vi. shews us Christ's agony in the garden of Gethsemane ; and,
after that, it being noon, and the play already having lasted four
hours, players and audience — not before they need it — move out for
rest and refreshment.

Upon re-assembling at half-past one, we take up the story at the
point when Christ, now a captive in the hands of the Roman soldiery,
is dragged about, by order of the High Priests, through the streets of
Jerusalem, to be mocked and reviled. First to the house of the
priest, Annas, then before Caiaphas, He is led. By the Jewish
Council He is condemned to die, and it only remains to obtain the
authority of the Eoman governor for the execution to be carried out.

In Act x. a break is made in the history of Christ's sufferings in
order that we may follow the fate of Judas. The introductory
taUeau represents the murder of Abel by Cain. The Oberammergau
peasants are not so dirty-minded as we English Pecksniffs. They
see nothing evil in the form that God has created in His own image,
and the picture is natural and realistic.

The scene of the drama is a wild place, near Jerusalem, the burial
place of strangers. Judas has flung his blood-money, now that it is too

•JULY 1, 1890.] THE OBERAMMAGAU PASSION PLAY. 5

late, back in the faces of the priests ; and, torn by remorse, wanders
in despair. Into this desolate spot he conies, cursing himself, and,
after a scene of mental anguish and struggle, hangs himself from
the gaunt branches of the tree that stands there, and passes out of
the history he has done so much to make.

In the next two acts, Christ is brought first before Pilate, and then
before Herod. Neither will give ear to the bloody clamourings of
the priests. Taken, however, for a second time before Pilate, He is
ordered to be scourged. The scene of the scourging was at one time
painfully realistic, but this year the various brutalities the Saviour
undergoes are rather suggested than represented.

In Act xiv. Pilate gives way to the mob, which, like the mob of
every age, is ever on the side of injustice, folly and wrong.
" Crucify him, crucify him ! " shout the eager, delighted crowd.
" Let Barrabas go free ; " and the sentence is announced.

Act xv. is full of pathos. Up the narrow street toils Christ,
fainting under His cross, and, at His heels, yelp " the tiger people
with the tiger people's yell." Mary is there, and He passes by her.
Mother and Son look at each other as they pass, but neither speaks.
Words are not for feelings such as theirs.

And then there follows the Crucifixion. It is difficult to give
an idea of this scene that will do it justice. It is a marvel of
mechanism, skill, and stage management ; but you forget to
think of it as a thing being acted. A hushed awe pervades
the audience, and even the society woman sits still and thinks
— or tries to — for one moment in her life. The scene is enacted with
such strong simple earnestness that there can be no thought of
irreverance. The two thieves, bound upon their crosses, hang one
to the right side and one to the left ; while in the centre, twenty feet
from the ground, is nailed the Christ upon the cross.

Here, there is no shirking ol the details. The crown of thorns is
on His head, and the bloody sweat is on His brow. The great nails
go (to all seeming) through the hands and feet, and by the nails alone.
He seems supported. The soldier pierces him in the side, and the
blood spurts out. It is painful, but too impressive to be revoltiog.
One is moved, not disgusted.

Mary, and the little group and those that were near and dear to
Him, are gathered at the foot of the cross, and wait till the end comes.

The descent from the cross is copied from Rubens. The details
demand great care and patience on the part of the1 actors, for it is
clearly a difficult and slightly dangerous piece of stage business. It
is as lovingly undertaken, however, as though the labour were a reality,
and the task safely accomplished, and Christ is laid at the feet of
Mary, and the little company of loving ones bend over him, weeping.

Two brief scenes, more in the nature of tableaux than acts, complete
the drama. The first is the Resurrection, the second the Ascension.
And then the vast audience slowly, and with thoughtful faces, files
out into the open air.

THE THEATRE. [JULY 1, 1890.

" Tinsel Town."

(For Recitation.}
BY CLIFTON RINGHAM.

I.—" CURTAIN ! "

^ ALLO, my boy ! you're just in time ; the rag will soon be

down,
So while we're waiting you can tell us a tale of Tinsel

Town."

# * *

Ay, Tinsel Town is gay, indeed, its tales are many, too ;
Some are as false as its fairest scenes, some like its
tinsel, true.
So I chose me one of the true ones, and there in the parlour old

They sat and listened round me, and this was the tale I told —

* » »

Two things you'll find in Lancashire, in village as well as town,

If you don't play up well enough, they'll hiss and hoot you down ;

But if you do 'catch on,' well, there, they take a keen delight

In following you about all day, and shouting at you at night.

No half-and-half sort of measures ; although 'tis rather rough,

Whichever it is, you'll not complain they're not critical enough !

I then was playing ' useful,' in a third-rate touring crowd,

And putting my hand to anything — 'twas no good being proud ;

And business, too, was capital, full houses every night.

The Lancashire lads, they liked us— when they do, well, you're all

right.

For I had been out of collar a pretty long time, you see,
And there was a little maid at home thinking, I knew, of me.
Somehow, to see the house full, from floor to roof, of life,
It set me thinking always of home and my little wife.
However, that's not here nor there, so I'll get on with my tile —
I recollect that night whenever I hear the name 'Overdale.'
That was where we were then ; we'd played-there all the week ;
When Saturday night came round, the house — well, 'twas something

quite unique—

For such a crush I never saw, nor hope to see again,
A sea of faces, high and low ; we'd ' caught on ' there, 'twas plain.
We put up ' The Ticket o' Leave -Man-,'- and a farce that I forget,
And we'd a pretty ' May Edwards ' — I think I see her yet,

JULY 1, 1S90.J -"TINSELTOWN." 7

How she made that great house rise at her, and shout and whistle

and yell,

F.-om the moment she first entered until the curtain fell.
There was one man in the gallery, in the centre of the row.
Who never took his eyea off her for that couple of hours or so.
He sort of fascinated me, and many a glance I cast
At him, as he leant against the rail, from the first act to the last.
I never said a word to her. Though brave enough in her part,
A timid little thing she was, gentle and good o' heart.
A deal too good for our rowdy crowd, as half an eye could tell,
But ready enough to do anything, and all she did, done well.
But I watched that man until the rag went up for the farce again,
And then I saw he'd gone to sleep ; ' drunk,' thought I, ' that's

plain.'
And. those that had been crying were laughing themselves now

hoarse,'

I could see they never noticed him, "and thought the same, of course.
Almost the last thing under Heaven, they thought that night, I'll

swear,
Was that they sat and laughed at us, with a dead man next them

there !

Yes, dead ; with his face upon his arms — dead in the glare and glow,
Dead to the laughter and the light— dead to the play below.
Tragedy laid her mask down— Comedy stayed her tears-
Here was a play a man might sea not once in a thousand years.
The curtain dropped upon our farce, and then on his it fell ;
Somebody learnt the ghastly truth and proclaimed it in a yell.
They carried him out, and someone else for a doctor quickly fled ;
He came, and heard and felt his heart : " the curtain's down " he said.
Nobody saw her coming, no one could stop her then,
From seeing a sight that silenced and unmanned the strongest men ;
Before we could touch her, turn her, or even say a word,
A sudden cry rang out on our ears, a cry that all of us heard.
" My husband ! " then down she fell like a dead thing at our feet.
Fell with a baatless heart beside the heart that had ceased to beat !
There are plays in life that we seldom see, the curtain is mostly

down.

Comedy, Tragedy, Drama, Farce— Life is a Tinsel Town.
There was one there ; married at sixteen, not to a mortal man,
But to a devil black and basa, built on a human plan.
He wearied of his childish toy in less than a year, and so
Left her to finl Ii3r owa way through this world of wrong and woe.
No matter to him, then, what she did or where she went away —
But he went down in the world, while she went up in it, strange to

say ;
She toiled and climbed the hill ; he wasted money and health and

life-
Gentleman, betting man, swindler, rake — and she was this man's
!

S THE THEATRE. [JULY 1, 1890.

All this was what she told me long after that wretched day ;
Now she's playing the lead at a house not a hundred miles away.
But that's what her story told me — there's many a play we see
On the stage not half so strong as those that are close to you and me.
We all of us play our part, forsooth, upon the stage of life,
With an aching heart we don our mask, and jest amid the strife ;
We strut our little hour away — they call it seventy years-
Happiness, misery, love and hate, laughter and song and tears ;
Tragedy, Comedy, Drama, Farce— but Fame is a fading crown ;
Put out the lights, the play is done, they have rung the curtain down !

Christopher Marlowe,
BY HARRY PLOWMAN.

£ HE dawn of our dramatic literature was heralded by few
gleams in presage of the radiance that was to come ;
rather like a tropical sunrise it burst forth in a sudden
blaze of glory and effulgence, which outshone in its
splendour even the brilliancy of the golden age in which
it was born.

The evolution of a national drama out of the crude germ of the
religious miracle plays and moralities was very gradual. The Coven-
try and Towneley Plays, which began about the end of the thirteenth
century, were followed by a class of entertainment called interludes,
which were short plays of a humorous character, the principle of
which are by John Hey wood. They were of the rudest kind, and
some of the titles are curiously quaint, such as " Johan, Johan, the
^Husbandman, Tyb his wife, and Syr John ye Priest," also, "Ye
JVIerrie Adventures of ye Pardoner, ye Curate, ye Frere, and Neigh-
bour Pratte ; " these were succeeded by the first attempts at a regular
drama, the " Ralph Roister Doister " of Nicholas TJdall, the Master
of Eton, and the "Gammer Gurton's Needle" of Bishop Still, the
two earliest comedies. In the first mentioned the plot is very slight,
but the rhyme is clever ; the second is destitute of plot and of wit ;
it is very vulgar, and the only redeeming feature is a song in praise
of beer, which still lives in English ale-houses.

The first tragedy, " Ferrex and Porrex," was by Lord Buckhurst
and Norton ; it was presented about 1562, and is an attempt to form
a classical drama, but it is heavy, cumbrous, and undramatic in every
sense, and the rhyme is most monotonous and spiritless.

JULY l, 1890.] CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 9

The dramas of Robert Green claim a passing notice, not 011 account
of construction, but for their freshness and originality. In reading
them we seem to scent the perfume of the woods and hedgerows,
and to have a glimpse of the Merrie England of Elizabeth.

The year 1564 was destined to see the birth of the twin stars of
our dramatic firmament. On the 26th February, Christopher Mar-
lowe was born at Canterbury, and on the same day of April, William
Shakspere at Stratford-on-Avon. Little is known of their early lives ;
the mixture of fact and fiction regarding Shakespere is familiar to
every one, and as regards Marlowe there is little to tell.

He was the second son of the clerk of St. Mary's, at Canterbury,
'who, it is said, was also a shoemaker, but this is doubtful ; he was at
the King's School in his native town, and when he was sixteen years
of age was entered at Corpus Christi College, Oxford. It is a doubt-
ful matter how it was that being of humble parentage he could be
sent to the University ; one conjecture is that he gained one of the
two scholarships attached to his school, and the other that he was
sent on the bounty of one Sir Roger Manwood, who might have ob-
served signs of the rich genius which only required development ;
but neither of these hypotheses is supported by evidence.

Between the intervals of his degrees of B.A. and M.A. there is a
gap of some four years unaccounted for ; there is a suggestion that
this was passed in taking part in the wars in the Netherlands, but
most probably he was engaged in maturing the scheme of his first
drama, and in also translating his exquisite version of Ovid's
Elegies.

At length the first fruits of his genius were ripe, and in 1587 " Tam-
burlaine " was produced, and the great revolution in dramatic litera-
ture commenced, as this was the first play in blank verse acted on the
English stage.

The erudite, pedantic, and even transcendental Augustus Von
Schlegel, makes a curious mistake in remarking that he cannot con-
ceive how Ben Jonson could use the expression, " Marlowe's mighty
line ; " he appears to be quite ignorant of the fact that Marlowe first
used blank verse, but this might be expected of a German scholar
who, in the profundity of his wisdom, criticised English plays, some
of which he had never read.

The faults of " Tamburlaine " are glaring ; a great part of the dia-
logue is most bombastic and inflated, to our modern ideas of an
Oriental conquerer ; but we can see throughout the marks of the mighty
mind which had emancipated itself from the stilted and fantastic
examples of the literature of a period in which Lyly's Euphues were
considered to be the great model.

Here we have a vigorous conception, and a virile, flowing, and
accurate versification, with a spirit of true poetical inspiration. We
cannot, in the limits of this article, point out particular passages, but
must leave it to our readers to discover the most beautiful, and they
will find many which, although perhaps exaggerated, possess the
genuine poetic ring. " Tamburlaine " is to be regarded as a remark-

10 THE THEATRE. [J^v 1, 1890.

able work, as the first English poetic drama, but it is certainly Mar-
lowe's worst ; we must remember, however, that he was probably not
much more than twenty when it was written.

In the consideration of " Dr. Faustus," we come to one of the
mightiest conceptions in our language. We stand aghast at the vast-
nsss of the creation built up on the slight materials of the old ballad
from which Marlowe procured the story ; here we see the gigantic
pride and ambition of Faust, aspiring to be a demigod, the giant in-
tellect possessed of all earthly knowledge, yet craving for power and
dominion ; the restless spirit, chafing within its narrow limits, and
following its wild aspirations even to the gates of hell, undaunted by
the fearful power which it invokes.

With all respect for Goethe, we must consider the Faust of Marlowe
by far the grandest in conception. No humble village maiden will
content the vast desires of the proud intellect conceived by Marlowe,
and the spirit of Helen of Greece is summoned to be the companion
of its burning passions. Goethe's creation is more philosophical,
mystic, and perhaps more sympathetic and human ; but, except in
the first scene, and in the description of the weird night on the
Blocksberg, it does not reach to the height of the sublime grandeur
of Marlowe's incarnation, whose restless ambition demands

" to be great Emperor of the World,

And make a bridge thro' the moving air
To pass the ocean with a band of men ;
I'll join the hills that bind the Afric shore,
And make that country continent to Spain,
And both contributory to my crown."

There are certain scenes of vulgar jesting in this play which jar
with the rest of it, but the weight of evidence shows that these are
not Marlowe's, but were introduced as a concession to the unwashed
for the loss of their old friend the " Vice," a humorous and prominent
personage in the early drama.

Contrast these scenes with the incomparable beauty of the address
to Helen,

" Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars."

and we cannot believe that they are by the same hand.

The horror of the last scene is most intense, and the wild despair
of the doomed soul, now repentant, but entirely shut out from hope,
and contemplating an eternity of agony, is given in a speech of mar-
vellous power.

" The Jew of Malta " is marred to a great extent by the exaggera-
tion of the principal character ; but, as in our time, it has become a
necessity for dramatic purposes that a Jew should be depicted from a
comic point of view, BO in Marlowe's time, popular exigencies
demanded that he should be invested with all the attributes of revenge
and malignancy. Barabas is simply a demon of cruelty, and some of
his atrocities are quite purposeless, otherwise the character is wrought
with considerable skill, and the play is a massive and concrete pro-

JULY i, 1890.] CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 11

duction. The other characters are sketched with boldness and in
vivid colours, the servant of the Jew and a bullying swashbuckler
being particularly strong creations.

The versification is smooth and flowing, and the play is rich in
wealth of idea, so much so, indeed, that Shakspere has appropriated
from it for the " Merchant of Venice," to which play it is scarcely
inferior.

" The Massacre at Paris " is vigorously conceived ; it is full of situ-
ation, and the characters have a strongly-marked individuality, but
the poetry has not the swelling cadence and rhythm of the other
plays.

In " Dido, Queen of Carthage," we find passages of the rarest beauty,
but, as a whole, it is more poetical than dramatic.

We come now to the consideration of the first absolutely perfect
historical play in our language, " Edward the Second." This is un-
questionably the finest of Marlowe's works ; it is most evenly balanced,
there is an absence of exaggeration of any sort, and the general
S3heme of the play is well matured and developed.

The character of Edward is a study of great skill. We see the
weakness, and infatuation, almost amounting to imbecility ; but yet
there is ever present the regal dignity which reminds us that he is
still a king, an! in the dirk scene of despair and terror wherein he
meets his doom, he claims our respect as well as sympathy. Charles
Lamb remarked on this S3en9 that it moved pity and terror more than
any scene ancient or molern with which he was acquainted.

The vacillation of the king is in strong contrast to the bold
arrogance of Gaveston and the imperious strength of will of Isabella.
Mortimer is portrayed with much vigour and tone, and the slight
sketch of the young prince, afterwards Edward the Third, is full of
dignity and grace.

This play is singularly free from th3 faults of unevenness and ir-
regularity of construction so common among our early dramatists,
when everything was sacrificed to situation and to tumid bombastic
dialogue, and is such a distinct advance on Marlowe's earlier works,
beautiful as they are, that, had he not been cut off in the prime of
his manhood at twenty-nine, we have a right to expect that, with one
exception, he would have ranked the highest of our dramatic poets.

Had Shakspere died at twaoty-nine he would probably have
gone down to posterity as a poet of promise, and " Lucrece " and " A
Midsummer Night's Dream" wou-ld bs considered his misterpieces.

Marlowe's line for line translations of: "Ovid's Elegies," and the
first book of " Lucan," show the versatility of his genius. In them
he appears to have caught the spirit of the classical poets, but they
lack the freedom and melody of his divine fragment of " Hero and
Leander," which was afterwards completed by Chapman.

In the first three Sastiais, whera M irlowe's hand is chiefly dis-
cernible, are passages of the most exquisite loveliness, combined
with the richest imagery and grace of fancy ; the verse is one limpid
stream of the purest melody. It is one of the most supreme examples
of fervent love-poetry which our language possesses.

12 THE THEATRE. [JULY l, 1890.

" The Passionate Shepherd to his Love," .vhieh was appropriate 1
by a piratical printer, and given to the world as Shakspere's, will be
known to everyone for its sweet beauty of expression,

As regards the personal character of our poet, there is little known,
and that little is not, we regret to say, at all creditable. He led a
somewhat turbulent life, and, like another erratic genius, Richard
Savage, was slain in a tavern brawl; this took place on June 1st,
1593, soon after he was twenty -nine.

It is with pain that we have to deplore that at this time he was
threatened with a prosecution for infidel opinions. That he held such
opinions is by no means certain, for the accusation was brought on
the evidence of a man who was hanged shortly after, and whose
evidence could scarcely be trustworthy ; at the outside it does not
amount to more than deism.

Marlowe may have been unsettled in his religious views, and
possibly gave utterance to ideas similar to those occasionally ex-
pressed by would-be cynical young men in London club-rooms in
our own day. We, however, must take into consideration that this '
was an age of transition ; the Reformation had beeu annulled by
Mary, and been re-established by Elizabeth, and no doubt there must
have been great uncertainty of opinion generally, in all probability
begetting a condition of mind amongst cultivated men which we
should now call freethought.

Whatever were Marlowe's faults, and admitting even that some
passing clouds of religious unbelief may have obscured the lustre of
his brilliant genius, we can look upon them leniently as pre-
eminently the errors of a young man, which advancing years would
probably have redeemed, and we will try and condone them, as we
have already condoned the sins of that other wild heart, whose
tumultuous beatings were stilled for ever, and found rest at last
beneath the waters of the Gulf of Spezzia.*

*Percy Bysshs Slialley, obit Jaly 8th, 1822.

Annals of the Bath Stage.
BY WALTER CALVERT.

PART II.
THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY— 1600-1700.

. N the death of Spencer (1599), who has been styled laureate
to Queen Elizabeth, Samuel Daniel is said to have succeeded
to office. This poet and historian wrote two tragedies,
"Cleopatra" and "Philotas." They are constructed after
the Grecian model, but never obtained reputation, not-
withstanding the beauty and excellency of occasional
passages. " His elegant genius," says Campbell, " wanted
the strength for great dramatic efforts." His object in writing
" Philotas " was misunderstood, or wilfully misrepresented. He was
said to have had his eye, in writing this piece, on the fall of the Earl

BATH IN THE TIME OF SHAKESPEARE.

Z.— St. Michael's Church, Outwhlch, where the "Miracles" were formerly performed.

of Esssx. This evidently pained him, and induced him to write

14 THE THEATRE. [JULY i, 1890.

what he styles an " Apology," which is generally affixed to the
play. In this Apology he says : —

"Living in the country, about four years since, and near half a year
before the late tragedy of ours (whereunto this is now most ignorantly
resembled), unfortunately fell out here in England,! began the same, and wrote
three acts thereof, as many to whom I then showed it can witness ; purposing
to have it represented in Bath by certain gentlemen's sons, as a private recrea-
tion for the Christmas, before the Shrovetide of that unhappy disorder. But, by
reason of some occasion then falling out, and being called upon by my printer
for a new impression of my Works0, with some additions to the Civil Wars, I
intermitted this other subject. Which now lying by me, And driven by necessity
to make use of my pen, and the stage to be the mouth of my lines, which before
were never heard to speak but in silence ; I thought the representing so true a
history, in the ancient form of a tragedy, could not have had an unreprovable
passage with the time, and the better sort of men ; seeing with what idle fictions
and gross follies the stage, at this day, abused men's recreations. And withal,
taking a subject that lay, as I thought, so far from the time, and so remote a
stranger from the climate of our present courses, I could not imagine that envy
or ignorance could possibly have made it to take any particular acquaintance
with us, but as it hath a general alliance to the frailty of greatness, and the
usual workings of ambition, the perpetual subjects of books and tragedies."

Daniel prefixed to this play a Dedicatory Epistle " To the Prince,"
to whom, when King James I. he fulfilled the office of groom of the
bed-chamber. He was early in 1603-4 given charge in some way of
the Metropolitan Theatre, in connection with the licensing of plays,
when his tragedy of "Philotas"was first published in 1605. Weassume
from the above " Apology " that it was first performed in 1601. This
is confirmed in the Municipal Records, from which we continue the
extracts relating to things theatrical : —

1602 Oct. 15, 44 Elizabeth,
gave unto the Earle of Hertford's
players, xxs.
given unto the younge men of our
cyttie that played atj Christmas,
vjs. viijd.
given unto the children that played
att Candellmas, vs.
1004 Oct. 14, 1 James I.
item givin to a fensor that did plaie
before the Shott with the Sword att
the proclayminge of our Dreade and
Sovereign Kinge, ijs. vjd.
item givin to the musicins att the

item paid for two gallons of Beare
givin to the Shott uppon the
Kinge's holiidaie, viijd.
item paid for a glasse that was loste
att the same tyme, ijd.
paid more for cake givin to the Shott
att the same tyme, rs.
item givin to the Ld Admirall's
players, xs.
1000 Oct. 10, 4 Jas. I.
given to the players at Christmas, vs.
given to the Prince's players, xxiiis.
viiid.
given to the Queene's players, xx

same tyme, iijs. iiijd.
item paid for fyve gallons of clarrett
wyne given the Shote uppon the
Kinge's holiidaie, xiiijs. iiijd.
item paid for a pounde and halfe of
Suger at the same tyme, ijs. iijd.
item givin to the musicins att the
same tyme, TS.
item givin to the Kinge's players,
xxxs.f

1008 Oct. 16, 5 Jas. I.
given to the Queen's players, xs.
given more to the Queen's players, xxs.
given to the Prince players, xxs.
1009 Oct. 16, 7 Jas. I. "
Given to the Duke's players, xs.
Given to the King's trurcpiters, xs.
1612 Oct. 12, 9 Jas. I.
to the ladye Elizabeth, her players,
xxs. "

* The Complete Works of Samuel Daniel, with memorial Introduction, Portrait
and Autograph. Edited by Rev. Alex. B. Grosart, D.D., L.L.D. Published by the
Spencer Society, 3 vols. 4to, London, 1885. Only 100 copies printed.

f As Shakespeare was a member of the King's players it may be fairly inferred
that he visited Bath on this occasion, although it is unsupported by documentary or
direct evidence. Additional reasons for believing the poet was acquainted with Bath
are to be found in his works, the last two of his sonnets being considered to have a
direct allusion to the thermal waters. In sonnet 153 we read : —
Cupid lay by his brand and fell asleep ;

A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground ;

JULY 1, 1890.] ANNALS OF THE BATH STAGE. 15

After 1612 there comes a break in these entries, though, as during
the reign of James I., and the early portion of the reign of Charles
I., there was no great falling away in the love of the drama which
sprang into such vigorous life during the Elizabethan era. It was in
the year 1626, however, a new Guildhall was built, after the design
of the celebrated Inigo Jones, in which the players, who occasionally
visited the city, were permitted to perform their theatrical exhibi-
tions. Towards the middle of this century these amusements would
probably be discountenanced at Bath by the senseless Puritanism of
William Pryune.

PRYNNE'S "HISTRIO MASTIX."

This voluminous writer, so entertainingly criticised in Disraeli's
" Calamities and Quarrels of Authors," was born at the Manor House
of Swainswick, a village near Bath, in 1600, and was educated at the
Bath Grammar School, matriculated at Oriel College at the age of
sixteen, took bis degree of B.A. in 1620, and subsequently studied at
Lincoln's Inn. He became a zealous adherent to the Puritan party,
and was offended by the growing taste for the stage. The " number
of plays and playhouses increasing daily," " the 40,000 play books
vented within these two years," " the fact that Shakespeare's plays
were printed in better paper than Bibles," — these were the intolerable

Which borrow'd from this holy fire of love

A dateless lively heat, still to endure,
And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove,

Against strange maladies as sovereign cure.
But at my mistress's eje love's brand new-fired,

The boy for trial needs wouli touch my breast ;
I, sick withal, the help of Bath desired,

And hither hied, a sad dis-temper'd guest,
But found no cure : the bath for my help lies
Where Cupid got new fire ; my mistress' eyes.

These lines are so peculiarly applicable to Bath, that it is impossible not to infer
that the city must have been in the poet's mind when he penned them. As Dean
Plumtre says, though doubtless allegorical, it seems to be an allegory resting upon
fact, and it bears too close a resemblance to a description of something actually
within the poet's knowledge, to be considered a mere coincidence. Again, in the
following and last sonnet we read : —

The little love-god lying once asleep,

Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,
Whilst many nymphs that vowed chaste life to keep,

Came tripping by ; but in her maiden hand
The fairest votary took up that fire

Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd ;
And so the general of hot desire

Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd.
This brand she quenched in a cool well by,

Which from love's fire took heat perpetual,
Growing a bath and healthful remedy

For men diseased ; but I my mistress' thrall,
Came there for cure, and this by that I prove,
Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.

Dean Plumtre remarks that the sonnets " are more or less pervaded with medical
imagery such as would be natural in one who, with the poetic temperament which
finds parables in all things, has recently been passing through the experience of ill-
ness." Those verses give us strong reasons for believing the poet did visit Bath, but
whether as a player or patient it is impossible to say. In each sonnet we have the
statement that he tried the "healthful remedy" and found no cure." — Vide BATH
HERALD.

THE THEATRE.

[JULY 1, 1890.

evils which inspired him to write and publish in 1633 his famous
book against theatrical representations. The actual number of pages
in this book is 1,086, exclusive of the " Dedicatory Epistle," " Address
to the Christian Reader," and " The Table ; " including the whole it is
a quarto of 1,156 pages. The title page (see page 17), which is a
literary curiosity, contains a good epitome of what follows.

At the time this work was published, Prynne was a man of in-
fluence in Bath, § one of those miserable visionary theologists who,

A\.an'j aa^'Ci arc vainc . ana as ajlwcrthcy Jade,
Hccru otic preclamcj. whtrcon inatu life u j~ky
Hi, Juffznnoj. Chanou. Comforts m jlncl thrall
3kfn/j GOD alone. frcfnicj. anl (roue run all

as Warton remarks, attempted the business of national reformation
without any knowledge of the nature of society, and whose censures
proceeded not so much from principles of a purer morality, as from
the narrowness of mind, and from that ignorance of human affairs
which necessarily accompanies the operations of enthusiasm.

Instead of dividing his work into chapters, he divided it into what
he is pleased to call acts and scenes. He usually begins each scene

§ Prynne subsequently represented Bath in three successive parliaments from 1660.
On the Restoration, he was appointed Keeper of the Records in the Tower, which
office he continued to fill till his death in 1669. Many of his works, of which he
wrote nearly 200, are in the Library of the Bath Abbey — See Peach's " Historic Houses,"
Vol. II. p. 121.

JULY i, 1890.] ANNALS OF THE BATH STAGE. 17

PLAYERS JCOVRGE

ACTORS TRAGjEDIE,

jy'fvidtd inte Two Parts.

Wherein it is largely evidenced, by divers
Jrgiwcnts, by the concurring Authorities and Rcfo-

iutions ofjundry texts oj Scripture-^ of the whole flVlW-
tive Church, both under the Law AndGofycll^ of 5 5 SynoeUs 4nd
ls^ 0^71 Fathers &nd Chrtftian Writers, before the ycarc
ofjcur Lord i jocjof above 1 )o{9r4$fn*Mtid4eutJfi
and Topi fo /4*rW/,fmcC} of 40 tieAtkt*
funtns, Pi*//, of many Ht£ib

That popular Stage- f lay es (the Very fompgs of the J)iVeR
which we renounce in bapujmc, if we bciecvc the Far hers }&rsfin-
full, h.eathemfl), l(\vde, ungodly SpcflAcUs^ffd f^D/l ytvnHio&s Cor-
r»ptttf)S't condtmvediaalltgts, At intolerable Mifchiefes t9 Chwcbt/.,
if RefubUc^es ,19 the manner s}K*iftele s axdfo&tes ef men. sj$
7 rtffjjiaadf .Flty-potts, ef Stage flsysrs \ legttl:r with the penning &£l&gy
freq ;*v/i//£ ofSt*ge-pltyfs, crs EslfsfoH* hifataftis epj csis bt fef&itg C^°
fins* AH pretences to the eontrtrv zie h«»t ^kcvvtfc fullr anfwered; aat)
rhc woJswfvtlr.c- of aftitig of bfholaipg Acidcaiifal! EnrCT)udc>;
bh?fly d'(cu^cdjbcndn feodry other pcrtsularj con.
siBg 2> satisg, T>./«/ , HeAltS^&islrjai&t. of
will taforrac yoa.

t L i A M PR Y N N E ,*» Vtter-'B errefter^ */"Lincolncs Innc.

Cyprian.De SpcAacali* lib p-344-

irttf^fin Jtrix*ts», tosavosa, 'i* ftm/itfr, tjmfitriltgi
-

d Cultu

/•/»•> H <fi>iJ\Jitiorta» rfflfnbex taJ»Jt**.,4rt. fit! at titan enve
, etjBf & "D-trt* >»•« t?nilt*t ivcitct.

H»w.?l in McKh.Tons.a CoJ.jjji B.& Hota.3 DC P<zn:tcnt «.Tx»ia.5
»wij»j,»*» lt£f/, ftjautpttasta nmetst, tc tavern c
nu'** tattwia t£tiai,ftMi*um Ofosiisiemtj^^-paif^iaf, tttbedit ft3r*

falesiet ftt&>ts frc.
Augvft no* DC Civit Dei. 1.4 c i-

Piintcd by £.axf.and ff./.for <JMich&<l Sparkf,*nd *rc to be fold
it the Blue BiWc,is Greene Arbowr,in lUUc Q14 K^1/* f 69 1\

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI.

18 THE THEATRE. [JULY 1, 1890.

with a syllogism. " The essence of his own work," observes the Rev.
Genest, " may be comprised in one syllogism : — "

"Whatever has been condemned by the Fathers and Councils ought not to be
tolerated in a Christian country. But the stage has been condemned by the
Fathers and Councils. Therefore the stage ought not to be tolerated.

To this there is a short answer : 'True Protestants are bound by no authority
but that of reason and the scriptures.' "

In the index there is a strong phrase against " women actors," so
" impudent as to act, to speak publicly on a stage (perchance in man's
epparel and cut hair, here proved sinful and abominable) in the
presence of sundry men and women." Prynne's enemies determined
that it was a libel upon the Queen who acted, only a short time
before the book appeared, a part in a Masque at Somerset House.
Although the work had been seven years in preparation, this affair
got Prynne into sad disgrace. However, his check to the amusements
of Bath was only temporary, a mere passing cloud ; the merry reign
of Charles II. revived the passion for the drama. It is somewhat
extraordinary, and deserving of observation, that the regal restoration
of the King and the restoration of the stage were events of the same
period. Two patents were granted for the forming of two distinct
companies of comedians in the metropolis, and the representations
were attended with two critical advantages ; the first was, the
theatres immediately opening after so long a suspension of acting
during the civil war, and the anarchy that succeeded it : the
second, that no woman had ever before represented any part. The
female characters had heretofore been performed by the most effemi-
nate actors of the company. The heightening that actresses must
have at first given to theatrical representations when compared with
the heterogeneous appearance that the most smooth-faced comedian
could have made in petticoats, is almost inconceivable. At the time
that Shakespeare wrote he was not unapprized as to the disadvantage
under which his female characters must appear under the circum-
stances ; and to this consideration we may reasonably attribute the
scarcity with which they are strewed in most of his pieces.

Although the Civil War must have put dramatic representations
entirely out of the question for the time being, the City Fathers,
according to Wool, were not unmindful of the prosperity of Bath,
for in October of the year 1650 certain bye-laws were issued for the
removal of a great nuisance -"which then existed, after which " people
began to fiock to Bath for recreation, as well as for the benefit of the
waters."

FAMOUS VISITORS.

Amongst the famous visitors of this period was John Evelyn,
who gives us in his Diary a slight but characteristic glance of the
city as it then was : —

" June 27, 1654. We all went to see Bathe, when I bathed in the cross bathe.
Amongst the rest of the idle diversions of the towne, one musitian was famous
for acting a changeling, which indeed he personated strangely."

JULY i,:i890.] ANNALS OF THE BATH STAGE. 10

He continues to describe the tov/n, and his description would have
been equally true when King Charles II. took his Royal Consort
there in 1633. " From this period," writes Wood, " the drinking
of the hot waters of Bath may be very justly said to have been estab-
lished ; and from, the same period the trade of the city began to turn
from the woolen manufacture to that of entertaining the strangers
that came to it for the use of the hot waters."

It is much to be regretted that Pepys, in his gossipy chronicle, de-
scribing his sojourn at Bath in 1668, has not left us any record
respecting the condition of the Bath stage at this time.

It is more than probable that the dram .is were still enacted at the
Guildhall as well as the inn yards, for as late as the year 1673 we
have a record of a payment of Is. " to the players at the Towne Hall."
In 1692, Princess Anne, and her husband, Prince George of Denmark,
visited Bath, but having incurred the displeasure of the King and
Queen, the Corporation, much to their regret, were prevented from
paying Her Royal Highness any mark of distinction. In 1694, Mr.
Joseph Gilmore, of Bristol, published a map of Bath, and the chief
places of amusements depicted therein are the Bowling Green (after-
wards Harrison's Walks) and the Cock-pit. Upon the former, the
country dances were held, to the music of the fiddle and hautboy.
The latter was situated in what is now called the Saw-close ; the name
implies the class of entertainment exhibited within its walls. This
chartographer also published plans for proposed buildings ia the city,
somewhat after the manner of those subsequently drawn by Wood,
and in these "a stable by the Abbey gate was appropriated for a
theatre," but that was a proposal never carried out. It appears that
about this time, Bath was of no importance whatever, and merely the
residence of a small number of shopkeepers and mechanics, added
to occasionally by a few visitors of rank and quality, who visited
the city for the benefit of the waters ; and it is from the commence-
ment of the next century that it again assumes a new character, as
an asylum for wealthy invalids and a resort of some of the most
famous literati, as well as the nursery for the greatest actors of the
English stage.

(To be Continued.)

20 THE THEATRE. [JULY i, 1890.

The Stalls, the Pit, and the Critic.

BY EVELYN BALLANTYNB.

HE shortcomings of modern dramatic critics is a subject of
some interest to the playgoer, and would seem a
promising topic for controversy. It is, however, a sub-
ject which cannot be lightly dismissed in a philippic of
two or three pages.

" A. J. D.," in his powerful invective, in the May issue
of this magazine, against the tendencies of modern stage
criticism, states his case with no lack of vigour, and makes things
generally unpleasant for the unfortunate minor critic. The writer,
however, does little more than merely introduce the subject, and on
this account his article must be considered somewhat inconclusive
and unsatisfactory. He somehow fails to get to the root of the
matter, and does little more than indulge in more or less violent
denunciations of what he considers the faults of the methods of
criticism now in vogue. Such a sweeping attack on the existing
state of things will hardly serve the writer's, or, indeed, any useful
purpose, except so far as it may excite opposition and invite dis-
cussion. Assertion, as we are so often told, is not argument, though
it is certainly most effective when the other side has no right of
reply. His treatment of this interesting topic rather suggests the
opening remarks of the chairman at a public meeting, who is
careful to confine himself to introductory generalities, so as not to take
away from the speech of the chief speaker of the evening what, in
theatrical parlance, is called the "fat." One expects something more
than a declaration in good set terms that minor dramatic critics are
mostly offensively personal, superficial, and unintelligent, and the
tone of their critiques unhealthy and vicious. Not only are these
sweeping statements, even when ballasted with quotations from
Schlegel and other eminent authorities, to some extent capable of
refutation, but one naturally looks for some explanation of the
causes of this alleged decadence of criticism, and some suggestions
for a remedy for this parlous state of things.

If, however, we analyse carefully this vehement tirade, fulminated
by this uncompromising champion of the higher culture, and do not
allow our judgment to be carried away by this overwhelming flood
of invective, I think we shall find that it is little more than a clever
and well-sustained piece of special pleading, and the much tried
minor critic may breathe freely.
In this involved pctitio principii there is, it must be allowed, a

JULY l, 1890.] THE STALLS, THE PIT, AND THE CRITIC. 21

slight attempt to account for the degeneracy of criticism. It is
attributed to the absolute incompetence and indifference to the true
interests of the drama of the critic of the modern school of
journalism. This is rat'ier like arguing in a circle ; but still it
affords a peg on which the much maligned minor critic may hang
his defence.

As a humble member of the confraternity, I am tempted to rush
into the breach, and, at the risk of being called an aduocatus diaboli,
I may, perhaps, be allowed to hold a brief for this vituperated class.

Even if we grant, for the sake of argument, that there is a falling
off in the dramatic criticisms of to-day, it is, after all, the fault of
the public, for which the journalists cater ; and I confess it is with
great pleasure that I make the " many-headed " a scape-goat, and
shelter myself behind the broad shoulders of the crowd. It is all
very well to say that the critic should lead and direct public opinion.
This sentiment, no doubt, sounds well, and within certain limits
the maxim is good enough. How often, though, an exaggerated
view of the disciplinary duties of the critic proves a stumbling block
to its exponents, and paralyses their well-meant efforts. A critic
should, no doubt, place himself a little ahead of the crowd, and try
to head it, as it were, in the right direction ; but if he rashly attempt
to run directly counter to public opinion, his efforts are worse than
futile, and he might as well endeavour to stem a tidal river by
swimming against it. It must be admitted that the critics of the minor
journals rarely err in this direction, though it does not necessarily
follow that they fly to the other extreme, and degrade the drama.
The superior critic is rather too fond of talking about the theatre as
a "school of morals," a ''refining element of society," &s., and is apt
to lose sight of the fact that the play-going public visit the theatre
chiefly to be amused, interested, and "taken out of themselves,"
rather than to be instructed, and regard the play more as a pastime
thin a means of mental improvement. Too often his well-meant in-
tentions and high aims are frustrated, because he is altogether out of
touch with the public ; and he ends by alienating and disgusting his
readers.

Then, again, the cultured critic, who is so thoroughly imbued
with the notion of elevating the drama, is generally too much of an
idealist, and his enthusiasm for the best interests of the drama tends
to a certain want of catholicity of taste. He is rather given to a
cheap and narrow-minded method of criticism. He cannot refrain
from sneering superciliously at the honest fooling of a popular farce,
and the harmless conventionalism of domestic melodrama, merely
because it is farce and melodrama, altogether forgetting that honest
and sound workmanship is always worthy of praise, even if applied
to forms of dramatic art which do not appeal to his esoteric
sympathies. __

Then our severe critic, starting with the proposition that the
" great mass of the public is intelligent," declares that it demands
something better than the "literary garbage" — as he unkindly calls it—

22 THE THEATRE. [JULY 1, 1890.

provided for it by the new school of critics. The force of this
sweeping statement depends a good deal on the meaning he attaches
to the words " public " and " intelligent." If he mean the pit and
gallery, which represent approximately the masses as opposed
to the classes, I should be inclined to join issue with him on that
point. Speaking generally, the great body of playgoers who are to be
found on the benches of pit and gallery are no doubt intelligent in
the sense of being fairly well endowed with reasoning powers, and
what is called common-sense, but even in this age of school-boards
the average pittite (pace the Messieurs of the Playgoers' Club) can
hardly be called well-informed or well-educated. If proof is wanted
it is only necessary to listen to the observations of the worthy pittites
when an historical melodrama or classical play is being performed.
Just as in the outer world public intelligence is supposed to be repre-
sented by " the man on the top of a 'bus," so in the world of the theatre
the average intelligence of the playgoer can be gauged by the re-
marks of your neighbour in the pit. When " Junius " was played
at the Princess's some years ago the very names of the historical
characters were unknown to the great majority of the pit occupants,
and I was amused at hearing one highly intelligent playgoer, who was
evidently a "scholard," explaining the plot between the acts to an ad-
miring auditory, and informing them that " that 'ere Brutus was the
bloke who killed Caesar, who you've 'eard tell on " — a fact which if not
supported by the usually accepted historical authorities, profoundly
impressed his auditors. Then, again, observant playgoers cannot but
have noticed that the patrons of the pit at the popular theatres are
profoundly ignorant of the commonest French phrases which are
current in our vernacular. For instance in " Paul Kauvar " great
stress was laid in the last act on the fact that the hero is liberated on
parole. " On parole ; wot's that ? "I overheard playgoer No 1. say to play-
goer No 2. " Blest if I know " — whereupon the wag of the party sug-
gested that it was French for parasol.

"A. J. D.'s" attack is no doubt more especially directed against the
type of critics of the semi-society and semi-sporting journals which
are supposed to cater for that class of society called "smart," or, with
unconscious irony " best people," and certainly the objectionable per-
sonal element which is so characteristic a feature of the critique* in
these papers cannot be too strongly deprecated. But even here the
poor critic is not the most deserving of blame.

It would be more consistent for the writer to launch his invective
against the vicious tastes of that section of society which demands
these personalities. The minor critics have to consider the wants
of two classes. There is that small but influential class (from the
box office standpoint) who throng the stalls, and who regard the
theatre purely as a recreation and an after-dinner pastime. With
these must be included the playgoers who visit the theatre simply as
a social duty, and because it is the correct thing to say they have seen
such and such a play which happens to be the fashion, and whose
intellectual needs would be satisfied with the " leg pieces " of the
Gaiety or the variety performances of the music hall.

JULY i, 1830.J THE STALLS, THE PIT, AND THE CRITIC. 33

Then there is the large class of persistent playgoers, drawn mainly
from the lower middle class, who frequent the pit and gallery, but
whose intellect is not on a par wit'.i their enthusiasm. The first
class would be ineffably bored by critiques in the shape of scholarly
dramatic essays or profound analytical expositions of the leit-motif
of a play. Their requirements are fully met by the superficial and
" snappy " paragraphs of the so-called smart journals, which would
be harmless enough if only the obnoxious personal element were
eliminated. For the patrons of the pit, a simply written explanation
and summary of the plot is what is chiefly required. As for the
" superior playgoer," whether of the pit or the stalls, his wanta are
fairly well provided for by the high-class weekly reviews such as
the Academy or Athenceum.

The great blot in the minor criticism of to-day seems, however, to
have been lost sight of. It is the appalling' dearth of freshness
and originality in style and treatment in the notices of plays by the
modern school of dramatic critics. Even the advanced writers of the
"new journalism" are lamentably deficient in individuality. So
pronounced is the family likeness in the reviews of plays in most
of these journals that one would almost imagine that the dramatic
columns were written by a press syndicate. The conventional
smartness of the criticism in these journals is quite as tedious as the
time-honoured commonplaces and stereotyped phrases in the critical
notices of the old-fashioned type. Another regrettable feature of the
new school of criticism is the gradual growth of the bastard style of
writing which has been happily termed " journalese." This seems
to have firmly taken root, and the critic is not happy unless he can
conceal his banalities and crudities of thought under a meretricious
sprinkling of insidious Gallicisms. He delights to show his erudi-
tion by dragging in at every possible opportunity some such phrase
as mise-en-scene, coup de theatre, or tout ensemble. If he describes
a risky (which he will spell risque) French farce, it would be safe
to give long odds that he would lay particular stress on the doubles
entendres* (a phrase never used by the French, who invariably use
the expression, double entente), with which the piece is so freely
peppered. These two comparatively venial faults of my confreres
the minor critics — servile conventionality and pretentiousness of style
— I freely concede as a sop to this stern censor morum, but I submit,
with all deference, that the chief blame rests with the public for the
graver shortcomings he has so mercilessly censured, even supposing
that they exist.

On the wide question as to the general decadence of dramatic
criticism, "A. J. D." is, I think, somewhat unnecessarily exercised as
to its existence. It may, however, be some consolation to him to be
reminded that an eminent dramatic authority, who is not by any
means inclined to take an optimistic view of the question, unhesitat-
ingly gave it as his opinion a few years ago in the Fortnightly

*It ia curious that even the most scholarly critics persistently misquote this phrase.

24 THE THEATRE. LJULY l, 1890.

Review that the standard of dramatic criticism, had been enormously
raised within the last few years, and that, in short^the one element
wanting for the development of what he termed the^ Renaissance _ of
the Drama was not good critiques but good plays.

©ur

" JUDAH."

New and original Play of modern English life, In three acts, by HENRY ARTHUR JONES.
First produced at the Shaf tesbury Theatre, Wednesday evening, May 21, 1890.

The Earl of Asgarby . . Mr. C. FULTON
pr°fTes*or J°PP- 1"1-8- 1 Mr. SANT MATTHEWS

F.L.d., F.G.S., &c.
Mr. Prall . .
Juxon Prall . .
Mr. Dethic . .
Mr. Papworthy . .
Roper

Mr H. CANE

Mr. F. KERR

Mr. ROYCE CARLKTON

Mr. E. W. THOMAS

Mr. H. HARTING

Judah Llewellin (Min-)

Ister of the Welsh > Mr. WILLARD

Presbyterian Church )

Lady Eve Miss BESSIE HATTON

0 . . T ) Miss GERTRUDE

Sophie Jopp | WARDEN

Mrs. Prall Miss A. BO\VERING

Vashti Dethic .. .. Miss OLGA BRANDON

It would, at first sight, seem almost extravagance of praise to state
that never was a more complete artistic success achieved by author
and actors than attended the production of " Judah." And yet such
was the case. Various paragraphs had appeared, which led one to-
expect something quite out of the common. Hints had been dropped
as to a " risky " scene, and that Mr. Jones had written a play with a
purpose. The latter was nearest the truth, but not, perhaps, what
was intended to be conveyed, that some pet theory was to be venti-
lated. The purpose was evidently to write a good healthy play that
would interest and elevate, and with parts in it that would suit at
least two of the principals in the company, and in this Mr. Jones has
succeeded. Beyond this, Mr. Willard, by gathering around him those
who were most fitted for the remaining characters, has given us an
admirable cast. It was a new departure, bringing before us a woman
who, really an imposter, yet half believes in her own semi-miraculous
powers, and winning her back to uprightness through her great love
for a fellow creature whom she also reveres ; and that that same
fellow creature, an enthusiastic mystical dreamer, pure in mind and
soul, can be so influenced by his almost idolat^ for the woman,
as, although a minister of religion, to perjure himself to save her
good name. Besides these, we have such varied types in the other
characters ; in Professor Jopp, who believes in nothing that he cannot
mathematically prove, and in Mr. Prall, who is so weak and credulous
as t ) believe in anything and everything ; in his son, Juxon Prall,
who believes in himself and himself only, and treats with correspond-
ing contempt all those with whom he comes in contact ; in Mr. Dethic
who, a mean, pitiful scamp, makes " the world his oyster " and forces
his daughter to a life of deceit, and in Lady Eve, a dreaming, con-

JULY 1,1890.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 25

sumptive girl, who, knowing her life can be but a short one, does
her best to conceal ravages that disease is making on her, so as to
console the broken-hearted father whose one pet lamb she is. And
the fortunes of these characters are so cleverly woven together as to
appear naturally to influence each others' lives. Yet there is but
littJe so-called plot. Vashti Dethic has earned a reputation for almost
miraculous cures, brought about by supposed sanctity of life and
self-imposed long fasts. Hearing of these cures, as drowning men
catch at straws, the Earl of Asgarby invites her and her father to
take up their residence at his castle, for her to try her powers on his
daughter Eve, the last of his children left him, and who seems likely
to follow in their footsteps. His friend, Professor Jopp, being ap-
pealed to, will only sanction the proceeding on the condition that he
and his daughter, Sophie, are to be allowed the strictest surveillance
of Vashti Dethic during the 21 days' fast which she says she must
undergo prior to attempting a' cure. The girl is shut up in an old
portion of the castle. Needless to say, her fast is but a sham. Her
father supplies her with food, but, the Professor's suspicions being
aroused, is at length prevented doing so. He has obtained a duplicate
key and is endeavouring to convey her provisions ; he has liberated
his daughter for a time, when the fraud is on the eve of discovery.
Judah Llewellyn, who almost worships Vashti, as too pure for this
world, overhears the conversation between father and daughter, but
though he then learns what a fraud Vashti is, his overpowering love
for her compels him to 83reen her. When questioned on his oath by
the Professor, he solemnly states that Vashti has not left her room,
and that she has had no food whilst immured in it. A year passes.
He is true to her and they are to be married. The Earl of Asgarby,
grateful for the beneficial effects produced on Lady Eve's health by
her constant association with Vashti, and in recognition of the earnest
and good work that Llewellyn has done amongst the poor in the
neighbouring city, has provided for their future. A church is to be
built for the young minister and to be well endowed. Llewellyn's
conscience will give him no peace. The words "liar," "perjurer"
are ever ringing in his ears. And so he refuses the church and its
emolument. He supports and cheers the erring woman who is to be
his wife, so that she confesses herself to be the irnposter she is, and
then he, in his turn, exposes his own falsehood to those around him.
He is going to leave the scene of his former labours, and with Vashti,
to work out their redemption in a new world, but is persuaded by
his influential friends to remain amongst them and to toil on, to live
down the past and recommence his good work amid those who know
of his backsliding. Mr. Willard has, before this, been seen in power-
ful and varied characters, but in none has he shown such a depth of
passion, of intense love, and overwhelming remorse. Miss Olga
Brandon has to play the sad role of Vashti in its melancholy earnest-
ness. There is but little brightness in her life, for even her love for
Llewellyn and his return of her affection is shadowed by the sense
of her own unworthiness and the knowledge that she has caused him
to sin. But Miss Brandoa understood what she had undertaken, and
made of the performance a great and fascinating one. Mr. Sant
Matthews, with his cold, calculating outward manner, as Professor
Jopp, was an excellent study ; the more so that he revealed an innate
goodness of heart to those who did not try tof deceive him. His
scene with Mr. Dethic (admirably played by Mr. Royce Carleton)
where he speaks his mind to the smooth-spoken scoundrel, was one

THE THE A TEE.

[JULY 1, 1890.

of the best. Mr. Jones has never written such excellent comedy
scenes as those between Juxon Prall and Sophie Jopp, but it must be
admitted that in less clever hands than those to whom they were en-
trusted they would have missed much of their point. One other per-
formance must be noticed, that of Miss Bessie Hatton ; it was so
human and tender. There are but two scenes in the play, " The
Tapestry Room at Asgarby Castle," and " The Terrace and old Nor-
man Keep ; " but they are triumphs of stage production.

" THE BRIDE OF LOVE."

New poetical play la four aot», by ROBERT BUCHANAN.
First produced at the Adelphl Theatre, Wednesday afternoon, May 21, 1890.
IMMORTALS.

The Goddess Aphrodite

Erldon

Erotlon

Cupidon

Euphrosyne

Miss ADA CAVENDISH
Miss CLARA ./BCKS
Mi«s MARIE FRASER
Miss JENNY HUMM
Miss LET-rr LIND

Zephyros Mr. LIONEL RIGNOI.D

Miss SOMEHSET
Miss STEAD
Miss B. FEKRAR
Mr. T. B. THALBEUG

ilethonoi (King of Cy- ) Mr. ALFRED BRY-

prus) ) DONE

Lycas (King of Azalea). . Mr. BASSET ROE
A"talantos(King of Thes- ) Mr. LEONARD Our-

saly) ) RAM

Nassrad (King of Ethiopia )Mr. E. LENNOX

Phosphoroj
Two Young Z3phyra
The Gol ETOI .. ..
Chorus of Graces anl Elementary Spirits.
MORTALS.

The King of Circassla
The King of Thule ..
Glaucus (a Sea King)

Hyla
Creusa . .
Psyche

Mr. C. M. HALLABD
Mr. HENRY BAYNTUN
Mr. H. ARNCLIFFE
Miss FRANCES ITOR
Miss ADA FERRAR
Miss HARRIETT JAY

Attendants, Cupbearers, Soldiers, <tc.

Save in one character, Mr. Buchanan has turned to excellent
account the beautiful legend of Eros and Psyche. It was a hazardous
experiment, this endeavour to submit to playgoers, too prone now-a-
days to turn everything into ridicule, so ethereal a subject, but by

his poetic verse and dramatic treatment, the author commanded the
interest and respect of an unusually critical audience. The legenl

JULY 1, 1890.1

OUR PLAY-BOX.

has been frequently dramatized, notably in ballet form by Moliere,
and has been the foundation of burlesque and extravaganza, but Mr.
Buchanan's method is new and original. On the summit of a
mountain we behold Eridon and Cupidon, children of Aphrodite,
amusing themselves by shooting Love's arrows among the throng
of citizens below, and enjoying the effect their random shafts
produce. The Goddess, jealously incensed at the neglect shown
her altars in Cyprus and the almost worship bestowed on
Psyche, through her oracle proclaims that the daughter of
Methonos shall be chained to the Rock of Sacrifice to be
devoured by a sea monster. Eros, eldest born of Aphrodite, is be-
guiled by his henchman, Zephyros, into gazing down the mountain,

and beholds Psyche. The god who has implanted love in every
human breast, has never yet himself felt its power — his soul is at
once inflamed. He rescues Psyche from the rock, and bears her
away to the Garden of Love. Unalloyed happiness is theirs for a
time, but envy and jealousy destroy it. Psyche's sisters, Hyla and
Creusa, taunt her that she knows not who is her lord. Up to this
time she has refrained from asking, blissful in her ignorance, but now
she presses Eros to grant her a last request, and he swears by " Styx
and Acheron " to comply. She questions him as to who he is. In
an agony of grief he is compelled, by his oath, to answer, for by the
laws of Olympus it is written that —

28 THE THEATRE. [JULY 1, 1890.

<: Should a god reveal himself
In god-like guise, or name his heavenly name
To one mortal birth, of that mortal's eye
Never shall look upon the light again."

Psyche is stricken blind as Eros vanishes, and is lost to her for ever.
Aphrodite rejoices in the punishment of her rival, but her maternal
love is so great that it conquers her hatred, when she beholds the
agony of her son. Immortal, he cannot die, yet the endless future is
to be to him one of heart-broken misery ; sway as he will the destiny
of others, he cannot influence his own loveless life. Zephyros, feign-
ing the loved voice of Eros, entices Psyche to the mountain top
where dwell the deities. Sightless, she follows, until once more she

finds herself clasped in the embraces of her lover. But that embrace
to her is death. Eros prays the gods that she may be restored to
him, " Give me back the soul which ye have taken from me. — Say,
ye gods, that love shall conquer death." Aphrodite petitions Zeus
that Psyche may be made immortal. Their prayers are granted.
Psyche returns to life, this time immortal, with the words

" Eros, my love, where art thou ?
A cloud of brightness — Light — and thou within it
My Lord — My Master."

Tho discordant note that is struck in an otherwise exquisite allegory,
is in the drawing of Zephyros, servant to Eros. His character is so
specially modern and mundane. And exception may, perhaps, be
slightly taken to the mortal and spiteful attributes of the sisters in
the Garden of Love — a paradise — when Psyche, through Eros' power,

JULY l, 1890.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 29

has given to them Lycas and Atalantos, the men they had long loved,
but who had hitherto been insensible to passion for them. The
scene in which the several kings sue for Psyche's hand in Cyprus is
powerfully written, and affords scope for good delivery, of which ad-
vantage in most cases was taken. In the Garden of Love was
introduced a pas seul with cymbals, most gracefully danced by
Miss Letty Lind. In her long retirement from the boards, Miss
Ada Cavendish has lost none of her dramatic power, and her
return to her profession was cordially welcomed. Miss Harriett
Jay, for whom the part of Psyche has been written, after the first
few lines delivered the text with sympathetic grace and true poetic
feeling. Mr. T. B. Thalberg commenced weakly, hurrying his utter-
ance in a lamentable manner. This was evidently from extreme
nervousness, for he gradually improved, and in his last scenes left
little to be desired. Mr. Lionel Rignold is not altogether to blame
that he made of Zephyros a cockney attendant on his master. Mr.
Brydone, Mr. Outram, and Mr. Roe did thorough justice to the lines
entrusted to them.

The " Bride of Love " was placed in the evening bill at the Lyric
Theatre, June 9, 1890, with only the following changes in the cast :
Eridon (Miss Laura Linden), Cupidon (Miss Emmie Bowman),
Zephyros (Mr. Ernest Hendrie, who materially improved, the reading
of the character, and made it almost acceptable), Euphrosyne(Miss
Luna, who gave the dance, but some of her lines were transferred to
Aphrodite), and Creusa (Miss Mary Kingsley). The character of
Nassrad, King of Ethiopia, was eliminated. Taken altogether, the
later performance was an improved one, and Miss Harriett Jay spoke
the most appropriate and delicately-written prologue that was intro-
duced with graceful effect. As at the matinee, the music expressly
composed by Dr. A. C. Mackenzie was thoroughly appreciated, and
the beautiful Epithalamium in the second act was specially so well
rendered by Mr. Stedman's choir as to be enthusiastically re-
demanded. Mr. Walter Slaughter, who conducted the orchestra, had
also composed some very tuneful incidental music (dance and songs).
The costumes, designed by Karl, and executed by Messrs. Nathan,
were most tasteful. As a first piece, Alec Nelson's tender little
drama, " By the Sea " (founded on " Jean Marie "), was very well
acted by Mr. Leonard Outram (Jamie), Mr. A. Brydone (Robin Gray),
and Miss Frances Ivor (Jeanie).

"MY MOTHER."

A new and original farce in three acts, by Miss AMY STEINBERG.
First produce 1 at Toole's Theatre on Tuesday afternoon, May 21, 1890.

Miss VANE FEATHER-

STON
Miss

BILT

Tom Meredith ...... Mr. JAMES NELSON

Sir Dallas Dallas . . . . Mr. B. P. SEAHE

Josiah Sparkle ...... Mr. A. ELLIS

Waiter .......... Mr. E. CRANSTON

Job Turner ...... Mr. HENRY BEDFORD

Dennis McCarthy

BY M°NK"

Amy Darlington .

Florence

Mary Jane Miss EVA EDEN

Mrs. Compass Miss ELSIE CHESTER

Felicite Blobbs ^Miss AMY STEINBERG

Adonis Featherfield .. Mr. YOKKE STEPHENS

Miss Amy Steinberg's farce, " My Mother," started exceedingly
well, and the original idea is very droll ; but it is so difficult to keep
the fun up to fever heat through three acts, particularly when the
first is specially good. Adonis Featherfield, a jaunty young widower,
and Amy Darlington, a fascinating widow, are engaged ; but they
have each of them a skeleton in the cupboard which they wish to
keep hidden until after the nuptial knot is tied. Adonis has a

SO THE THEATRE. [JULY 1, 1890.

bouncing step-daughter, Felicite Blobbs, years older'than himself ;
Amy, a hulking step-son, Job Turner, old enough to be her father.
She passes him off as her guardian. Felicite, Adonis represents to
be his mother-in-law. She is a gushing creature, and has a fond re-
membrance of a Captain Compass who once paid her attentions. Tom
Meredith suggests to his friend Adonis that the best way to rid him-
self of Felicite is to get her married. She has not seen Compass for
years. Someone must be found to represent him. Dennis McCarthy,
a bibulous, jovial sailor, who somewhat resembles what Compass was
ia the flesh (for he is defunct) is engaged for a consideration to take
upon himself the character of the late Captain. To this there is a
drawback, for McCarthy has married Compass' widow, and when she
learns that he is paying attentions to Felicite, she creates a scene
(one of the best, and most admirably played by Miss Elsie Chester).
Then further complications arise from the fact that Adonis has also
engaged Job Turner to figure as Captain Compass, for Job being fond
of racing and skittles, and such like amusements, is always hard up.
We will not follow the piece further than by saying that eventually
Felicite accepts Job, who takes the pill on account of it being well
gilt, and that Adonis and Amy, after a very amusing resriminatory
attack on each other for their mutual deceit, look forward to jogging
along comfortably together, rid of their respective big children, whom
by-the-by, they have represented to each other as the most endear-
ing little cherubs. Of those in the cast, I must single out Mr. Yorke
Stephens and Miss Featherston, the authoress, Miss Amy Steinberg,
who played with a thorough sense of humour, and Mr. Henry Bed-
ford. The other parts were very well filled, and it is probable that if
the last act, more especially, is strengthened, " My Mother " will be
seen again.

The same afternoon saw the initial production of "Time's Re-
venges," a one act play by "W. Edwards Sprange. This was evi-
dently suggested by " Fedora," the lines of which it follows so closely
as to require no description. Miss Marie Illington thoroughly dis-
tinguished herself as Yera Yassaliski (the Fedora of this work). Mr.
Oscar Adye was good as Prince Alexis Neirska, and Mr. James Nelson
played Gerald Leigh, a young English attache and the good angel of
the piece, very naturally. It was a pity that the author had not
chosen an original idea on which to found his plot, for his work was
otherwise worthy of praise.

"A RIVERSIDE STORY."

An original little play, in two acts, written by Mrs. BANCROFT.
First produced at the Hayinarket Theatre, Thursday, May 22, 1890.

Lady Carlton
Mrs. Harrington
Susie Leyton .
Alice . . .
Sarah Greba .
Polly . . .
Kitty . . .

Miss ROSE LECLERCQ.
Mrs. E. H. BROOKE.
Miss KATE ROKKE.
Miss ANNIE HUCHES.
Miss MARIA DALY.
Miss KATK PHILLIPS.
Miss MARY COLLETTE.

Hetty . .
Jenny . .
Tilly . .
Mother Sibby
Harold Brandon
Tom Harrington
Joe Evans

Miss GEORCIKA KCHE.

Miss FOGKRTY.

Miss CLIVE.

MiSS ROBERTHA ERSK1NE.

Mr. SYDNEY lii:<>r.,n.
Mr. LEONARD BOYXE.
Mr. GEORGE GIDDE.VS.

Most lovers of the play-house have read " Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft on
and off the stage." In this work will be found a personal experience
of the authoress when staying at Broadstairs. Mrs. Bancroft came
across an old boatman who was breaking up a boat, on which was
painted the name of " Alice." He had built the craft in anticipation
of his marriage with a girl of that name, but she had listened to the
seductive voice of a betrayer and jilted the humble boatman, and
when deserted returned to her native village. Here, her old lover,

JULY 1, 1890.] OUR PLAY-BOX. SI

though he would not look on her face again, had her established in
the cottage that was to have been their home, and saw that she
wanted for nothing — noble conduct on his part, for she had driven
him to drink and ruined his future. This constitutes the main
feature of "A Riverside Story," (the scene and title are probably
suggested by " A Riverside Episode" which also appears in the work
quoted). But Mrs. Bancroft has introduced Lady Carl ton, the
mother of the betrayer, Harold Brandon ; Mrs. Harrington, the blind
mother of Tom, the unhappy boatman ; and Susie Ley ton, a true-
hearted girl, who, though she loves Tom with all her heart, un-
selfishly watches, though, alas ! to no purpose, over Alice and a
number of mischievous, flirting village girls. It was fortunate the
piece was as well acted as it was, for there is not sufficient fibre in it
for more than three quarters of an hour, and it played for n early two
hours, and became wearisome to a degree. This was partly owing to
the manner in which Mr. Leonard Boyne and Miss Annie Hughes
dragged their scenes — they prolonged the " agony " of the situation
to an undue extent — and we saw and heard too much of the frisky
village maidens and their idle chatter. Miss Kate Rorke and Mrs.
E. H. Brooke were both excellent. Mis 3 Rose Leclercq was a little
too cold for the kind-hearted lady she is supposed to represent. As
to Mr. Sydney Brough, good as he almost invariably is, he is not cut
out for a villain, and should not have attempted the part of the
deceitful Harold ' Brandon. " A Riverside Story " must be con-
siderably modified before it will suit an evening audience. The
matinee was arranged for the benefit of the Orphanage, Abelour,
Strathspey, by Mr. Arthur Bourchier, who appeared in J. P. Hurst's
comedietta " Sugar and Cream," together with Sir Augustus Webster,
Bart., Grenadier Guard?, Miss Violet Ambruster, and Lady Augusta
Fane ; and the concluding item in the programme was "The Up Train,"
adapted from "En Wagon," byC.T/Colnaghi,and played by the author,
Mr. Eustace Ponsonby, and by Miss Lottie Venne.

" ADOPTION."

"A New Matrimonial Mixture," in one act, by RICHARD HENRY.
First proJuce.l at Toole's Theatre, Whit- Monday, May 26, 1890.

Mr. Barnabas Blockle. . Mr. COMPTON POUTTS
Miss Barbara Blockle . . Miss CICELY RICIIARDS
Coastantia Miss MARIE ILLI.XGTOX

™. , . ) Mr. REGINALD

TheoJosms j STOCKTOX

G-lumber Mr. ALFRED BALFOUR

Whisker Miss MARY JOCELYN

This amusing curtain-raiser, " founded on a story by the same
author, published in Ally Sloper's Christmas story," has more than a
spice of Gilbertian humour in it. But clever as it is, if one of those
who appeared in it had been " out of the picture " the success would
scarcely have been so well assured. As it was, it went screamingly
from start to finish. Blockle, brother and sister, are wealthy philan-
thropists of a certain age. Having through the agency of a patent
pill amassed a fortune from an easily gulled public, duty and inclina-
tion point out that some of their wealth should be returned to the
public in charity. The opportunity offers itself. Constantia and
Theodosius, having been engaged for five years and seeing no pros-
pect of their marriage, advertise for some benevolent creature to
adopt them. The Blockles answer the advertisement — with the result
that Barnabas falls in love with Constantia and Barbara with Theo-
dosius ; and the two young things who are to the world so loving,
but who have really got heartily sick of their long engagement, and

32 THE THEATRE. [JULY 1, 1890.

nag at each other perpetually in private, are only too glad to seize the
chance of wealthy marriages. A great deal of fun is caused by the
bashful love of the two seniors, and quite as much by the maid and
manservant, who both, in their hearts, hope to win respectively their
master and mistress, but, finding they are unsuccessful, comfortably
pair off together. " Adoption " was so well acted all round, that it
would be unjust to single out any one of the cast. The piece was
very well received.

« THE NEW WING."

Original farcical comedy, in three acts, by H. ARTHUR KENNEDY.
First producal at the Strand Theatre, Tuesday afternoon, May 27, 1890.

Sir Edward Strangeways Mr. FRANK G-ILMORK.

General Singleside . . . . Mr. ATHOL, FORDE.

Jobbings Mr. EARDLEY TURNER.

Bobbie Button Mr. HERBERT Russ.

Geortre Slab .. .. Mr. CHARLES COLLHTTE.

Precilia Singlaside .. Mrs. HEX RY LEIGH.

Flossie Trivett .. .. Miss ADAH BARTON.

Hester Singleside .. Miss GERTRUDE LOVKL.

Should this be Mr. Kennedy's maiden attempt, he may certainly be
encouraged to persevere, for there is in his play considerable
originality in treatment ; his dialogue is brisk and well chosen and
free from vulgarity. In fact, had he possessed more insight into
dramatic construction, he might have made the " New Wing " a com-
plete success. As it was, it was well received, and caused much
laughter. Sir Edward Strangeways is supposed to be a rising young
architect, who unexpectedly inherits a title and wealth. General
Singleside is anxious to secure a good match for his ward, Flossie
Trivett, and so he invites Sir Edward, professedly that he may have
his advice on the " New Wing " the General is building. This falls
in with the architect's views, as he has been smitten with the pretty
face of Hester, and wishes to learn something of her temper and dis-
position, for she bears the reputation of being a strong-minded young
lady with " socialistic " views. Bobbie Button has for some time
been secretly engaged to Flossie, and arriving on the scene is mis-
taken by the General for Sir Edward, both of the young men being
unknown to him. Bobbie accepts the situation, as it will afford him
opportunities for frequent interviews with his sweetheart, and Sir
Edward, the better to carry out his plan, bribes a lazy, drinking
plumber, George Slab, to pass him off as his brother. In apron and
paper cap, the baronet does some very bad paperhanging, but whilst
he is at work Hester is always at his side, for she is thoroughly taken
with the handsome young workman. Bobbie is put to some ludicrous
shifts in his attempts to conceal his ignorance of matters architectural
and the flirtations between Hester and Sir Edward are amusing. The
fraud is exposed by Jobbings, a rival architect ; but things end
happily, for Bobbie is wealthy, and Hester has been rather taken out
of the conceit with the British workman through George Slab's
drinking and short-pipe smoking propensities. Mr. Frank Gilmore,
Mr. Herbert Ross and Mr. Charles Collette helped the author much.
Mrs. Henry Leigh was amusing as a would-be authoress, desirous of
reading to any listener she can entrap, her simple stories ; and Miss
Adah Barton was bright and winning as Flossie. Miss Gertrude
Lovel is very pretty, but is as yet quite an amateur ; in more capable
hands her part might have been made very effective.

" A Throw of the Dice," another piece, in one act, by the same
author, was also played. The events are supposed to occur when
Britain was occupied by the Romans. One of two slaves, Caradoc
and Mona (Mr. Oswald Yorke and Miss Gertrude Lovel), has been
lost at play to Lucius JSmilius (Mr. Leonard Outram). They are

JULY l, 1390.J OUR PL A Y-BOX. 33

attached to each other, but Mona, being a coquette, has not confessed
her love until they are likely to be parted, and then she shows her
noble nature. They are made happy, however, for their old master
sends a letter freeing them both and redeeming the one from
.^Emilius. There was some merit in the lines ; these were well
delivered by the gentlemen.

" WANTED, A WIFE."

Farcical comedy, in throe acts, by J. H. DARXLEY.
First perfonmil in London at Terry's Theatre, Wednesday afternoon, May 28, 1890.

Walter Boyne . . .
Edward Carlton . .
Frederick Mason
Young Harry Carlto
Gilman Gaunt . .
Silvester Down . .
Captain Bagshot
Dawes . .

. Mr. YOKKE STKPHKXS.
Mr. ARTHUR WILLIAMS.
Mr. JAMES XKLSOX.
Mr. H. EVERSFIELB.
Mr. WALTER M'E\VAX.
Mr. SUTTOX VANE.
Mr. LESLIE COHCORAN.
Mr. W. BRAME.

Dixon

Mr. ADOLPHVS ELLIS
Mr. F. GLOVKU.
Mr. G. BKI.MOHK.
Mks HELEN LKTTON.
Miss M. A. GIFFARD.
Miss ETHEL NORTON.
Miss ALICE BRUCE.
Miss KOSK DEARING.

Willir.m
Norman
Mr?. Boyne . .
Mrs. Carlton
Mrs. Mason . .
Young Mrs. Carl
Mary .

ton

Fertility of invention in bringing about complicated situations
may be unduly exercised, and I fear that this charge must be brought
against Mr. Darnley, for he has put so great a strain on the faculties
in unravelling the thread of his tangled skein, that the mind becomes
almost fatigued. This might be remedied to a great extent by the ex-
cision of Mr. and Mrs. Mason, Silvester Down, and the one detective
employed by Mrs. Boyne — there would still be left a strong cast of
twelve, ample enough surely for a farcical comedy. I shall not at-
tempt to follow out all the mistakes and mystifications that arise, but
will endeavour to give some idea of the plot. Walter Boyne, five
years before the scene opens, has married, but owing to some little
disagreement has parted from his wife, whom he has never seen or
heard of since. He suddenly learns that an uncle has left him an
enormous fortune, hampered with certain conditions. Boyne must,
within twelve months of his relative's decease, appear before the.
executors to the will with a wife and be able to state that he is living
happily with her. Failing this, the estate goes to Edward Carlton
and Frederick Mason, who must fulfil the like conditions. Should
these again fail, then the property is to go to benefit a charitable in-
stitution, of which Gaunt and Down are trustees. As these two are
thoroughly unscrupulous, and know that they would in the last case
have the handling of the money, and as nothing has been heard of
Boyne, who has been abroad, their aim is to part Carlton and Mason,
and their respective wives. Young Harry Carlton has run away with
Captain Bagshot's daughter. They stop at Osmond's Hotel. There
the waiter imagines, from th3 initials of .the name that Harry has
assumed, that he is the Walter Boyne for the discovery of whom a
£500 reward is offered, or else that he is a murderer flying from,
justice. Edward Carlton and Mason, under a plea that they are
going to a scientific lecture at Kew, run up to town and stay at the
same hotel. As old Carlton is going to a music-hall, he leaves his
watch for safety with William, the waiter. On his return, Bagshot.
finds the amorous old Carlton at the feet of the daughter of whom he-
is in pursuit, and so takes him for the husband. William takes the-
watch back in the morning and entrusts it to Mrs. Carlton, mistaking
her for a servant, and divulges all about her spouse's escapade. Mrs.
Mason is led to believe that her husband is acting the part of a
Lothario with Miss Bromley, the name under which Mrs. Walter
Boyne is passing. Bagshot is led to believe that old Carlton has
committed bigamy. Boyne, in pursuit of his wife, is brought to the

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI. C

34 THE THEATRE. [JULY 1, 1800.

belief that during his absence his wife has obtained a divorce and is
the wife of old Carlton. Of course, everything is explained away
satisfactorily at last. Boyne and his wife are re-united and get
the property ; but before this is accomplished, there is a great
amount of fun produced, and the pursuit of the missing Mrs. Boyne
by her husband, through the aid of a detective, and their constantly
just missing each other, is carried along at almost too high pressure.
Mr. Yorke Stephens' mercurial temperament in comedy just suited
him for the part of Boyne, to which he did the fullest justice. Mr.
Arthur Williams would have improved the elder Carlton had he
taken it a little quicker. Mr. Walter M'Ewan was specially good as
the deceitful Gilbert Gaunt ; and Miss Eose Bearing was decidedly
clever as the chambermaid, Mary. Mr. Darnley's pieces are always
amusing, and as much must be said for "Wanted, a Wife," which was
favourably received, though it is so complex.

" NERVES."

Farcical Comedy, in three acts, by J. COMYXS CARP.
First produced at the Comedy Theatre, Saturday, June 7, 1890.

Captain Anuitage . . . . Mr. C. H. HAWTREY
Mr. Buxom Brittle . . Mr. H. KKMBLK

Mu WABU ElGn-

Ilippolyte Caramel . . f

James Mr. (>. KENNEDY

Commissionaire .. .. Mr. W. WYES

Customer Mr. P. S. CHAMPION

Violet Armitage .. .. Miss MAUDE MILLETT

Mrs. Buxom Brittle .. Miss SOPHIE LAHKIN

Emma ........ Miss LYDIA COWELL

Iphigrine ........ MISSETHELMATHKW s

Clarisse ........ Miss ELEANOR MAY

T,,liot. ) Miss JENNIE COP-

Juhct ........ ) PINGER

Anna .......... Miss BLAYNEY

Madame Zephyr Elaise Miss LOTTIE VENXK

Les Femmes Nerve-uses, the three act comedy of Blum and Toche,
was seen at the Royalty in March last year. Mr. Comyns Carr has
freely adapted it, giving us a very amusing play, containing much
witty dialogue, with a total absence of anything objectionable, 'and
also characters that are English, not French people disguised as
English ones. In this harum-scarum present life of ours, ladies do
suffer, or fancy they do, which amounts to the same thing, from
nerves. Mrs. Armitage does so, and becomes furious at the phleg-
matic temperament of her husband, which takes everything so calmly.
As nothing will rouse him, she tries extreme measures. She deliber-
ately writes a letter that will compromise her to the bearer of a name
picked haphazard from the directory. The name is that of Hippolyte
Caramel, a little confectioner, who is already engaged to Madame
Zephyr Elaise, a well-to-do' and good-looking milliner, and hence
arise all the complications that ensue. Mrs. Buxom Brittle's nerves
produce in her a nagging, perpetually lecturing state ; she is every-
thing that is objectionable in a mother-in-law, but her husband,
inured to her attacks by long usage, philosophically smokes and takes
refuge in his club. In the development of the story, the usual absurd
complications and mistakes that are inseparable from farcical cornedy
irise and are cleared a~vay. Mr. Hawtrey and Miss Millett, Messrs.
Righton and Kemble, Miss Larkin and Miss Lottie Veune are admir-
able, and it is a pity that Miss Lydia Cowell has not more to do.
" Nerves," of which, by the way, the first act is pure comedy, was most
favourably received, and will in all probability have a long run.

JULY i, 1390. J OUR PLAY-BOX. 35

"CASTING THE BOOMERANG."

Eccentric comedy, in four acts, by AUIJUSTIX DALY.
Revived at the Lyceum Theatre, Tue 1.1.13' evening, June 10, 1S3D.

) Mr.

Mr. Launcelot Bargiss

Mr. JAMES LEWIS.

iToiessor uasieign .
Jobbiu^

Paul Hollyhock
Signor Palmiro Tamborinl
A Postman

i CLARKE.
| Mr. CHARLIE

Mrs. Hypatia Bargiss
Dora Hollyhock . .

Jessie

j WHEATLlilGH.

Floss

Mr. E. P. WILXS.
Mrs.O-. H.GiLBEUT.

Miss KITTY CHEAT-
HAM.
Miss ADA REHAX.

Mr. Daly elected to commence his fourth visit to London with the
production in which his company made their first appearance in this
country at Toole's Theatre, July 19, 18S4. The play is by no means
the best in their repertoire, and is taken from Franz Von Sehonthan's
" Schwabenstreich," and made a great reputation in America under
the primary title of " Seven-Twenty-Eight." Another version ot the
German by Herman Hendriks, entitled, " The Hurly-Burly ; or,
Number Seveu-Twenty-Eight," was produced at the Globe, June 21,
1884. and some little friction arose as to the two versions. Of the
one now under notice, I may explain that 728 is the number of a
picture of a lady and a dog which has been hung in a public gallery.
A real live English lord (for the scene is laid in America) is most
anxious to discover the original of the portrait, and employs Signor
Tamborini to do so. Floss, who is the coquettish original, plays off
the lord's anxiety against her true love, Courtney Corliss. Casting
the boomerang is an expression used to convey that at least one of
the great follies that we commit in our lives is like the Australian
weapon, sure to come back to us, sometimes causing considerable
mischief. Launcelot Bargiss's " boomerang " is the idea that he is a
poet and literary star, in which delusion he is encouraged by his wife
and Professor Gasleigh, an out-at-elbows publisher, who fattens on
his credulity. Under the pretext that it is necessary for his success
that he should stay in New York, Bargiss leaves his comfortable
country home with his family and- comes to the great city, where,
seduced by its pleasures, the old gentleman, under the pretence that
he is at work all night in his study, sallies forth with the professor,
and is at length discovered with his own son-in-law, Hollyhock,
behind the scenes of the opera, whence they are unearthed and
brought back in disgrace by Mrs. Bargiss and Dora, one of his
daughters. Mrs. Bargiss has thrown her "boomerang" in getting
all the sonnets, that her husband sent her in their courting days,
printed and bound up, under the impression that they are original
productions of Bargiss's muse, whereas the humbug has simply
culled the best specimens from well-known poets, and, to save him-
self from ridicule, has to buy up the whole edition. Instead of being
anxious about the lady, it turns out that the lord wishes to find the
owner of the dog, with a view to purchasing it. Mr. John Drew, Mr.
James Lewis, Mr. Charles Leclercq, Mrs. G. II. Gilbert, and Miss Ada
Rehan resumed their original parts, and all acted in the inimitable
manner these several clever actors possess. As old friends and
favourites, they were more than warmly greeted. Mr. Frederick
Bond is most clever and amusing ; Miss Adelaide Prince pretty and
engaging ; and Miss Kitty Cheatham is one of the merriest and
brightest little songstresses and dancers that I have seen for some
time. The season opened quite auspiciously; but the revivals of
"As You Like It" (with Miss Ada Rehan as Rosalind), and of " The
Country Girl," another of her most famous characters, will be
anxiously looked for.

CECIL HOWARD.

THE THEATRE LJDLY i, 1890.

©ur

Musical Silhouettes

No. Ill,— THE FOREIGN COMPOSER.

HE Foreign Composer is French, German, Italian, and
American ; and England being the happy hunting-ground
of all the world, naturally he comes to England, sets up
his oriflamme with a flourish of trumpets, and an adver-
tisement in the Daily Telegraph, and proceeds to — make
a name for himself.
Wheo he is respectable, he is acceptable ; when he is not, one is-
prone to wish his own country had seen fit to appreciate him, which
would have spared us the necessity of now and then pretending to-
do so.

The Foreign Composer does a good many different things, some
badly, some passably. He teaches, of course ; and in this particular
line he excels, because there never was yet a British Matron who did
not feel a kind of pride in being able to tell her friends and acquaint-
ance that her daughter is a pupil of Signor Vibrato, or Senor Castell-
ata, or Monsieur Legrand, as the case may be. So he getteth him
much advertisement and many pupils.

The Italian Composer is the most welcome, the American the least ;
because, as a rule, the Italian is a musician, and the American is not
a little bit of one. The Italian Composer can write, occasionally, ex-
cellent songs in his native language, and passable ones in English,
which sometimes attain to a degree of popularity only to be accounted
for by the recollection of the fickleness and uncertainty of the musi-
cal taste of the great British Public. The Italian has music in his
soul as well as at his finger ends.

But the American has no soul. His motto is dollars ; he will write
anything, do anything, for dollars. He contrives, sometimes, to make
a success, how, neither he nor anybody else knows, though of course
all his geese are swans, and black ones at that. Another reason why
the Italian Composer can write successfully is because nearly every
Italian sings, and he knows what is vocal and what is not. Now and
then an unvocal song succeeds, but it is only by chance.

As for the American Composer — but I have too much contempt
for him to say any more about him ; besides, there is nothing more
to say.

The German composer is different altogether. He is not conceited

JULY l, 1890.] OUR MUSICAL-BOX. 37

at all ; and he has his nation's musical reputation, not merely to
trade upon, but to uphold. He does both, when he can. When they
are not too weird, and are understandable, his compositions are ad-
mirable ; but he is too fond of depth, and such a depth as no English
plummet can fathom.

Very few French songs are sung in England, except on concert
platforms. It was the fashion formerly to sing them, or Italian can-
zonettas, in drawing-rooms. Bat since the Foreign Composer came
over to unmusical, perfidious Albion, the fashion has changed.
English composers write French chansons and German lieder ; and
foreigners in self-defence write English ballads. Who can blame
them ?

Certainly, did we not make him welcome, the Foreign Composer
would not come ; but one trembles to think what the rising gener-
ation would sing if an edict of banishment could be and were passed.
Because it is a plain truth that some of the best. English songs of the
day are written by the Foreign Composer.

And we do make him welcome, find him pupils, sing his songs, and
line his pockets — he even teaches at our Academies. We love and
admire him so much that we, sober-going English that we are, even
Italianise, Frenchify and Germanise our names in order to try and
persuade the public that we are a Foreign Composer !

Well, after all, what matters ? It does but prove that London is
the centre of the World of Music ; and since the musical public are
content, the Foreign Composer is pretty certain to be so. So we go
to his concerts, listen to and applaud his songs, buy and learn them,
help him on in the world. When Macaulay's historic New Zealander
stands on the ruins of London Bridge in the future, he will hear a
German band — the very last extant — playing a French polka or suite
of waltzes ; and a butcher boy, grown old and grey in long service,
whistling the last new American Christy-Minstrel, mawkish-senti-
mental, semi-religious ballad ! For, while we treat him so excellent
well, the Foreign Composer will take good care to stop with us, to
the very end of the last chapter.

SKMinilEVE.

I was going to say something about concerts, and leaves and Vallombrosa, but
I am afraid the quotation is hackneyed. Surely, with the present multiplicity
of concerts of all kinds, the critical musician's lot, even if he be only a little bit
earnest, is not an easy one. Every singer of note, and a great many who are
not (and have not) much note, gives his or her concert, and relies -on 'the
artistic good-fellowship of the musical world for assistance, and, let it be
whispered, upon friends for the purchase of tickets. One glance down the
fiont page of the great musical daily is quite enough ; every concert-hall is
engaged, afternoon and evening. The question is, where will it all end ?
Punch used to call us a nation of shop-keepers ; are we going to change all that,
and become a nation of musicians, singers, players, and concert givers ? Heaven
forbid !

Half empty, what a cold miserable place Prince's Hall is ! Surely, something
a little more comfortable might be provided than the present stalls, which are
only a trifle better than a third-class carriage on the Metropolitan railway.

38 THE THEATRE. [Jro* 1, 1B9&

London wants a comfortable concert-hall. "Why should one get an excellent
half-guinea stall at a theatre, and one even better still at a music-hall at half
the price, while a guinea stall at a fashionable concert is not only abominably
uncomfortable, but bare, cold and wretchedly furnished ?

Signer Denza's "grand" evening concert on May 31st impels me to these
remarks. Not that the concert was half-empty ; it was well filled, but with a
more unbeautiful audience than was ever my lot to see. The success of the
evening was Signor Carpi's singing, which was most artistic. The absolute
reverse can be said of that of Mr. Charles Loder, who sang most wearisomely
without the slightest expression or feeling. By way of contrast, Mr. Franklin
Clive sang " The Monk " finely ; and Mr. Harry Williams' rendering of Rotoli's
canzone could not have been better. The Fraser quintette, amongst others,
assisted, Miss Ethel Fraser being recalled for Albanesi's " Serenade," a most
graceful trifle, charmingly played. Other artists were there galore, but space
forbids the mention of more. I will confess I prefer the Signor's French and
Italian songs to his English ones. I must not omit to speak of Tosti's
"Serenata/' excellently sung by Mdlle. Dufour to the genial composer's own
accompaniment, and heartily encored.

At a Patti concert (without Patti !) on May 31bt, Mr. Sims Reeves and
Madame Albani, to say nothing of Mr. Stavenhagen and Madame Trebelli, sang
to empty benches ! What a power is the magic of a name. And what on earth
will Patti's public do when Patti (whisper it) sings no more ?

Mr. Lawrence Kellie's second and third recitals took place on May 22
and June 10. At the former Miss Lucille Saunders, Miss Clara Samuell,
Miss Hope Temple, Mr. Hayden Coffin, Mr Leo Stern, and Mr. Brandon
Thomas were the artists. At the latter, an excerpt from an opera by Mr. J. M.
Coward " The Golden Legend " was given by Mr. Kellie and Miss Alice Whit-
acre ; nothing I could say in praise of Miss Whitacre's voice would be too great,
so fresh, clear and free from all tnicks of affectation is her singing — a contrast
to others that might be named. Miss Amy Roselle, Mr. Arthur Dacre,
Madame Patey (who sang "Sleeping Tide,") M. Johannes Wolff and Senor
Albeniz, assisted in the rendering of a most attractive programme.

Comedy-opera, forsooth ! If an antiquated plot, pointless dialogue, stereo-
typed situations, and music-hall "gag '' make a " comedy-opera," then certainly
" Gretna Green," at the Opera Comique, is such. The first regret is that capable
artists like Miss Leonora Braham and Mr. Charles Collette should waste their
energies on such a farrago of absurdity. The second regret is that the common-
place music of Dr. John Storer blocks the progress of infinitely better stuff.
For my part, I could see nothing in it worth ten minutes' concentration of one's
listening powers ; and Mr. Glover's orchestra did its best to spoil what wa»
bearable. I should like Miss Villa Knox better if she refrained from opening
her mouth so much ; she has a capable voice, certainly. The " lyrics " are bad,
and the dialogue, with the interpolations of Mr. Collette eliminated, might raise
one laugh in each act — certainly not more. (Since writing the above, " Gretna.
Green " has died a natural death. I'm not surprised. It deserved it.)

Certainly the lion of the season so far as matters musical are concerned i»
the Byronic pianist, Paderewski, who is as near being a genius as any man of
the day in his line. He seems to have a command of all manners and styles,,
and to make use of them indiscriminately. Not being satisfied with being
pianist only, he must needs be a composer too. His Concerto in A Minor, per-
formed on June 10th at St. James's Hall, is by no means a commonplace-
work. I preferred the third movement to the others. His performance of
Saint Saens' No. 4 Concerto was a tour de, force. I must confess I have heard
nothing quite so weird and eccentric as Le Borne's Suite No. 2 for orchestra.
It is Berlioz exaggerated, and when it did not awaken wonder it evoked laugh-
ter. Yet somehow it is unmistakably clever, and I should like to hear it again.
The orchestra was not particularly good.

JULY 1, 1890.] OUR AMATEURS' PLAY-BOA'. 39

Mr. and Madame Friedheim gave a pianoforte recital, at Steinway Hall, on
June llth. While Mr. Friedheim's technique is unassailable, I still do
not care for his playing, which is somewhat too automatic. The Saint-Saens
" Variations on a theme of Beethoven," proved rather wearisome ; the remain-
der of the programme consisted of selections from Liszt — of whom Mr. Fried-
heim was pupil — Schumann, and Chopin ; all executed perfectly, but with a
chilly precision that depressed one. The ear is reached easily enough, but the
heart is another matter.

In some respects I prefer, to Mr. Friedheim, Mr. Leopold Godowsky, whose
recital took place at Steinway Hall on June 12th. He was certainly happier
with both Chopin and Schumann, the Ballade in G- Minor being especially bear-
able. But why select such an uninteresting — to most — item as Beethoven's
•' Thirty-two Variations." Four morceaux of his own were included in the
programme. The audience was sparse, but what could be expected with the
present plethora of pianists ?

At the fifth Richter concert, on June 16, Brahm's No. 1 concerto was per-
formed for the first time, under the genial conductor's baicn, Mr. Leonard
Berwick being the pianist. The programme also included the No. 7 symphony
of Beethoven, two excerpts from Wagner, and the Ruy Bias overture. There
was a very crowded house ; and I have to thank Mr. Vert for his courtesy
to me.

Two pianoforte recitals were also given at Prince's Hall on June 7 and 14
by Mdlle. Clotilde Kleeberg, a talented pianist, whose name is well known.
The audience was larger on the second occasion, but upon neither was it very
numerous, probably on account of its clashing with the date and hour of
Sarasate's concert at St. James' Hall.

CLIFTON BINGHAM.

©uv Bmateuve'

I don't know why it should be so, but it is, that affliction on the stage is a.
sign of virtue. We don't recognise it in this light in our household, or out in
the world. We see, for instance, a blind man in the street ; do we at once
regard him as a deeply loving father, whose children must crouch in pretty
attitudes at his feet, and talk in baby language of their sympathy and affection ? '
No. We wonder if he has the right placard on, and whether he ought not to be
labelled " Deaf and Dumb." And, if he happens to tap our new patent leather
shoe, specially donned in order to confound our amateur friends with a sense of
the power, the grace, the elegance, and the boundless wealth of the Press, we
address him in words from which our rich uncle, from whom we have expecta-
tions, would, in similar circumstances, be exempt. But introduce him into a
play and you at once flood the stage with tears. The audience gets to work
a-weeping like the Crystal Palace fountains, and their expressions of compassion
and admiration will scarce be louder or more florid at the wedding of a popular
actress or an Anglo-German princess. " I came, I pretended that I could not
see, and I conquered," might well be the motto of all Colonel Challices that
ever ventured forth to conquer modern Britons. Expressive eyes turned
heavenward and a military chest will do the entire business. Now I think all
this comes of the actor's weakness. He flings all the emphasis on the accidental
colouring — the blindness — and neglects the nature beneath. He takes, in short,.

40 THE THEATRE. [JULY l, 1890.

the nearest road he can to popular favour, being quite aware that the low
comedian in slop-shop clothes and a monstrous hat wins readier laughter than
an Alfred Bishop or a John Hare. Therefore am I disposed to award Mr. Varty
warm praise for his Colonel, in that he disdained the posturing and tried to
show us the man's heart. There was nothing great in the performance, but it
was intelligent, thoughtful, and could boast a few true notes of deep feeling.
Mr. Frank Leslie went for a new reading of Stratton Strawless, and any such
attempt is to be encouraged. Mr. Chisman, who had the temerity to galvanise
that deadly monologue " Nearly Seven " into a semblance of life, played the
Doctor with breadth and humour. And Mr. Dicketts, though flying in the face
of nature, yet deserved no cruel shrug for his buoyant Bertie Cameron. Miss
Amy Chisman was strong and touching as Mrs. Thornton ; and Miss Symons
will be an acquisition for the BaLadn.ongtrs ere long.

Ought one to bs angry or only intensely superior at such a performance as that
the Studt nts' A.D.G. gave at the end of May ! " Grimaldi ' (" or a Eelic of the
Past," should be its second title) is no longer possible. In the days when
T. P. Cooke, as the Flying Dutchman, fired the imagination, rising through a
trap in a belching fiery flame, with skulls and cioss bones for a settee and his
own heraldic device, we could put up with it. But we have advanced a step or
two since then. Our Romeos do not make passionate love in single-buttoned
lavender kid gloves, though I have seen it done not twenty years ago by an
actor now a mighty favourite in the colonies. We are all posted, more or less
incorrectly, on points of law, on the proper conduct of a thunderstorm, and on
the fitting accent for a sprig of the nobility. If we see more than two moons
illumining the heroine and hero in their big scene, we ask awkward questions.
And when there's a bulge on the friend of the family's left breast, and a
pocket-book gorged with bank notes appears, many of us ungenerously sneer.
The fact is the drama is growing, and slowly — very, very slowly — but also very
steadily ; its childish days of forty years ago are being left behind as memories
we can only smile at with indulgent kindliness. In this dawn of Ibsen and
Pinero, Jones and Grundy, even the careful work of the master craftsman,
Boucicault, seems only shoddy ; and " Grimaldi " is but an instructive and
amusing fossil. The Students played it with energy, and half of them quite
believed in its preposterous scenes and characters. Bursts of stagey sentiment
delivered with rugged power vitalised several of the situations. Mr. Cleveland,
rough and spasmodic as he was, interested his audience in the trials of the good
old guardian. Mr. Kowlestone bore his title and virtue, as Lord Arthur, with
becoming modesty and ingratiating earnestness. Maltravers, a twopence
coloured villain if ever there was one, received a delightful and ingenuous in-
terpretation at the hands of Mr. Kitts. And Messrs. Mayer and Hoffman were
liberal in their allowance of humour. Miss Turner very properly reproduced
the Siddons' style of actress as the jealous Julia ; and Miss Amy Miller, as the
virginal and victimised Violet, had just the right tone of innocent simplicity,
and almost reconciled one to the play.

How much nicer it would be if amateurs would cut down that abominable
second act of " David Garrick." Even when our Wyndhams and Blakeleysand
Jameses are concerned in it, there is always something that jars, something to
fret the artistic nerve. And when this is the case with the cutest and most
sensitive farce actors of the day, how should it be with amateurs. For they
cannot have the sensibility, born of experience alone, to feel where lies the
danger in clowning of this kind. To them it is a romp, and they go through
with it regardless of its influence on previous and succeeding scenes. They
hail it as the one certainty in the play. " It will knock 'em," they assure one
another — "Em" being their educated and discerning patrons. "It'll just make
'em sit up " — if only Garrick will remember to revolve the plumes in Miss
Araminta's hair, and Jones's stutter will work equal to sample, as at rehearsal ;
and so on through the company of monkey performers the gifted author turned
his creatures into. All which, of course, is profoundly and utterly wrong. It's
all very well to contrast the heroic actor's dignity and refinement, in his sober
moments, with the ignorant money worshipping shopkeepers' coarse, blatant
vulgarity. But to get over the line and represent them as gross caricatures of
humanity, goes far towards destroying all interest in Garrick himself. Owing

JULY l, 1890.] OUR AMATEURS' PLAY-BOX. 41

no doubt to Mr. Trollope's discretion, this scene was not as outrageous as usual,
when the play was given on May 20 at St. George's Hall, but the noise
and' bluster were still too much. Mr. Stephen Townsend, surely not an
amateur, distinguished himself by a manly reading of the hero. He was
restrained, yet forcible, and in the last act showed a command of emotional
power most welcome in a budding actor. Mr. Evill got a good deal of humour
out of Ingot, chiefly by legitimate means. Mr. Valerie was awkward, but
perhaps with intention, as Chivey, and was best when he was most like Mr.
Giddens. Mrs. Clayton played with decided firmness and finesse the thankless
part of Mrs. Smith. Miss Madge Irving showed eccentric humour as Miss
Brown. And the fair Ada was prettily acted by Miss Hingley, whose voice and
manner made amends for any want of power.

Every amateur in the kingdom ought to know how to play " Caste " now.
It makes me shudder to think how many evenings of my life have been spent
looking on at the Marquizzy and the rest of the tribe. How it is audiences
don't tire of it I don't know. Not a church to be restored, not a choir to be
put into abbreviated nightshirts, not a soup kitchen to be replenished, but
Robertson's comedy has been trotted down to the footlights to extract the
needful. It must be quite time that charitable weak-minded people who
allow ;themselves to be coerced into supporting these entertainments, should
demonstrate against any further use of " Caste " for a period of ten years.
Bat no, they will endure to the end, for all the world like the wretched critic
who lets " I dare not " wait upon " i would." There was not much to grumble
at, however, in the last revival at Victoria Hall on May 19. For the sake of
the D'Alroy, the^Hawtree, and the Esther, much, that is very much more than
we were called on to forgive, could have been pardoned and forgotten.
Blemishes there were, of course. These comedies want a heap of rehearsing,
But even when you have a nasty spiteful little piece of lead pencil and have
scored down on your raspberry and vanilla-coloured programme quite a
solicitor's list of charges against all and sundry, you are put to rout the moment
a tear begins to trickle down your blase nose. That was my condition here. I
suddenly awoke, as it were, to find myself as hard gripped by the sweet pathos
of the beautiful old story as though I had never seen all the Esthers and
D'Alroys from Lydia Foote and poor Fred Young to Olga Brandon and Leonard
Boyne. Bravo, Mr. Sansbury, and bravo, Miss Meredith — you played with art
and, better still, you played with heart. And mine were not the only eyes that
grew red and swollen at your pretty love scenes and heart-breaking sorrows.
Captain Hawtree, too, in the person of Mr. H. R. Robinson, was excellent, and
followed the best model with tact and humour. Mr. Johnstone and Mr. Mayer
were conscientious exponents of Eccles and Gerridge. And the special engage-
ment of Mrs. Cecil Lamb as Polly was fraught with advantage to her com-
panions.

The amateurs have beaten the record this season. A whole week at a
London theatre, in a specially written play, is enough to band the profession
together to seek redress and urge their claim to compensation. And not to be
behind the fashion, a professional matinee into the bargain ! Half the proudest
aristocracy of the world in the stalls, all the dead-heads of art and letters in the
circle, and a dainty slice of the chaffiest democracy in the gallery ! Could any-
thing be more representative ! It really didn't matter much whether you
understood the plot, so long as you could pick out from among the chorus this,
that, and the other, "scion of a noble house, in tights and a golden wig. " Joan
and the Brigands of Bluegoria " was merely a peg for smart names, fine clothes,
pretty dances, catchy music ; in short, it was precisely the kind of thing the
public will pay to see, under protest and the plea of charity. Who cared if the
majority could act no better than the old Adelphi guests. Who blinked if the
brigands' blouses were cut rather too low, and the stockings were carried
remarkably high. This was not a play, but a toney romp in the sacred cause
of charity. The Hon. Chappie Douall Baddeley came on and frisked like a
playful and self-conscious lamb, and the Lady Flirtina, under the lynx eye of
her maternal auctioneer, exhibited points she would be unable to display to
advantage in the customary social arena. Nobody grumbled that the Fred
Leslie and the Nellie Farren of the show were absent. They had their Letty

42 THE THEATRE. |JULY l, 1890.

Lind and their Sylvia Grey, an:l with these and the high-born chorus they were
moie than satisfied. There were not many smiles, for the writing was not up
to Mr. Robert Martin's form. But Mrs. Godfrey Pearse's sweet voice won
several encores for bits of Mr. Ernest Ford's music, and enthusiasm was
rampant when the pretty and graceful Misses Savile Clarke went through a
pas de deux, all accordion-pleated skirts, flexile willowy bendings, arch glances,
and delicious pliancy, after the method of their Gaiety models. Another dance
that brought down the house -\\as one by Mr. Colnaghi and Lady Augusta Fane,
who are sunshine itself in an obscure piece of this nature. Of acting, worthy
of the name, there was next to none, Mr. Charles Lamb standing out head and
shoulders above the rest as a Yankee correspondent ; and the Inseparables —
Mr. Eustace Ponsonby and Mr. Colnaghi — playing " the quality" in with one of
their cheery and clever duologues.

The Gem A.D.C. have been the first to introduce ons of Mr. Daly's farcical
comedies to the amateur boards. Why was it not done before ? They are the
very plays for these curiously compounded audiences. Perfectly innocent,
devoid of the least suggestion in dialogue, with clearly drawn characters, funny
incidents, and plots as easy to master as " Little Arthur's History of England ; "
nowhere could lighter, brighter, and simpler farces be found. It is a pity they
ire not comedies, of course, but we must be thankful for small mercies. They
are, at any rate, a long way ahead of those Palais Royal mazes, all doors and
dubious characters and loose morality, and the better they are known the
happier for amateurs and their friends. Mr. Daly should not be allowed to
leave England in September without depositing copies of all his German-
American novelties with Mr. French for hire at a moderate fee to the hundreds
of clubs who are thirsting for something fresh, exhilarating, and innocuous. Of
all their productions in this country, none I think aroused heartier laughter
than " A Night Off," and the Gem did wisely to start with this. They would
have made far more of it with half a dozen rehearsals under Mr. Daly himself,
but the general effect was very creditable. Scenes hung fire now and then, and
the company had not learnt how to play up to one another, but the funniest
situations made their mark in spite of this. Quite half the cast was notably
excellent, and Mr. J. G. Meade, as the Professor, supplied a most natural
and whimsical study of a henpecked husband. The ludicrous quarrel scene,
in which tempers are lest " to order," to secure the retreat of the three con-
spirators who are sworn to get their night off or die, was played with delightful
verve and conviction by Mr. Meade, Mr. Rooth, and Miss Lovell ; their acting
being well out of the regions of farce, and a long way on the road towards
high comedy. Mr. Guildford Dudley was amusing as the broken-down
tragedian, but he adopted so many styles that the result was rather confusing.
Miss Burley and Miss Charlotte Morland were of great service, and a pert
maid was cleverly acted by Miss Maude. Mr. Gerald Phillips will be a
valuable juvenile with a little study, and if he will impart his ease, repose,,
and pleasant manner, to Mr. Morgan, there will be no reason to grumble at
that gentleman's method.

Ninety-nine out of every hundred of the great British Public know such a lot
about acting, that if a man looks his character they are content, and if his part
is a good one, then he is a great actor. Amateurs are a little prone to forget
this. They all go for the good parts, of course. They would not be human if
they didn't. And they go for them, knowing that if they score a fair artistic
success, they will be lauded to the skies as a coming Irvinsr, a Willard, or a Tree.
But they rarely take the trouble to stand in front of their glass — their mirror.
I mean — and say " Can I, even with the aid of the cunning Mr Fox, look it ?
No, it is enough that they have a neat leg, a pretty voice, and a shrewd eye for
the centre of the stage, and with a light heart they go at it. This is preamble
to a doubt upon the fitness of "The Balladmonger " for a company that can
boast no Beerbohm Tree a member. There is no occasion for head wagging-
and lofty sneers ! I remember quite distinctly how Coquelin played the hero. I
recall how his podgy, bourgeois figure was lost to vie^, hidden by the magic-
power of genius. He did not, could not, look the starveling poet, but then,
with an actor of his superb resource, no such aid is wanted. When we come to-
amateurs, however, it is another pair of shoes. Fitness is half, no, nine-tenth*

1,1889.}* OUR AMATEURS' PLAY-BOX. 43

of the battle, when genius gives place to talent. And at the Honor Oak Hall
on June 16, when " Pity," another version of the same charming story, was
produced, physical unfitness was the harshest criticism its players deserved. They
spoke with feeling. They wore their costumes as though these had not come
by special messenger from Mr. Nathan, with a guide to point the Avay in and
also the way out, to avoid rents and ridicule. They were thoroughly in earnest.
And many a suburban mother sensitively shrank from the fervour of Gringoire's
love-making, in a virtuously Philistine, " Well, I'm glad our Alice Jane ain't on
the stage " frame of mind. But, intelligent and careful as the acting was, it
could not Le called convincing, for the majority were by nature barred from
suggesting their characters. Miss Maud Oldham was gentle and pretty and
touching as the heroine, and she must be exempt from this judgment. Mr.
Howard, Mr. Hedly, and Mr. Barber, may, however, take comfort from this,
that if honest endeavour could have succeeded beyond giving a capable prose
rendering of a remarkable poem, theirs must have done so.

Another " Alone ! " this time revived by the Camden Comedy A.D.C. who
gave Miss Eastlake and several other less distinguished players to the stage.
That is as good as saying that there is sure to be talent found in their ranks.
And it is true. Nobody talks of them as being among the first clubs of London .
When they announce a performance, there is no particular rush of duchesses
and philanthropic parvenus to offer them a guinea and beg to be mentioned as
a patron. They do not even come down to the headquarters at St. George's
Hall. They seem to enjoy being unmolested by fashion, left to blossom in
their own little Park Hail with none but their friends around them. But their
work, though so modestly done, is worthy of high praise. And if they chose,
they could flaunt it as bravely as any of their rivals, in the very forefront of
the friendly strife. Everything that can be, has been done with the sightless
Colonel. He has been a massive jeune premier with a prematurely whitened
head. He has been a -character aotor who has dwelled lovingly upon every
word he could twist into any kind of comic relief. I have never seen him
treated as he would be, if his sorrows had to be worked into a Drury Lane
pantomime by Mr. Nicholls and Mr. Campbell. But I have little doubt that a
provincial production will supply me with the necessary experience. Mr.
William Baker, a versatile actor, with scarcely enough dignity for my idea of
the Colonel, is the latest exponent. He was very quiet, natural, and impressive.
He fought shy of attempting big effects. Perhaps he knew his own limitations.
If so, he is to be applauded for his prudence. But there was something want-
ing, as a consequence of this timidity. The doubt would obtrude itself "Did
he really care so very much," and in the face of Mr. Baker's finished little
sketch, this was to be deplored. Mr. Weber Brown gave a rattling, flashy
reading of Stratton Strawless, much to the taste of his audience, who loved him
as the old Princess's people used to love their Spider and their Clifford Armytage.
Mr. Monkley is hardly at home in a character part. Moments in his Mickle-
thwaite were good, but on the whole it was inconsistent and therefore not sym-
pathetic. Mr. Alexander on the contrary was exactly suited to Bertie Cameron,
of whom he made a buoyant young hero. Miss Ellen and Miss Annie Whelan
were winning heroines, playing with strongly contrasted styles, and providing
nearly all the charm and spirit of the piece.

44 THE THEATRE. [JULY I, 1890

©uv ©mmbus^Boy.

Not a little significance attaches to a leading peculiarity in two of the most
successful plays now running in London. Having regard to the strong prejudice
that has always existed in this country against the introduction of the Church
and its officers into serious drama, the mere toleration of two such pieces as
11 Judah " and " A Village Priest," where the main motive is the struggle on
the part of a priest against temptation, must be looked upon as marking a dis-
tinct change in public taste. The novelty here is not so much the presentment
of the two clerics, for that has been done frequently without raising any great
storm of objection ; but the fact that they are shown each fighting against a
strong desire to commit a breach of duty, and each, though in immensely
different degrees, failing. We have had parsons enough on the stage in various
capacities, from hero of melodrama to the peccant curate of Criterion farce, to
say nothing of the Reverend Mr. Spalding ; while the appearance of the monk
of comic opera has not been half so serious a thing as his humour. In the
present instances, no doubt, the earnestness of the treatment and the sympa-
thetic humanity of the Abbe Dubois anl Llewellyn, differing widely though the
two rnen do, i^ the s^crat of their popularity. There are also other strong points
of absorbing intersst that tend to take the public attention from the ticklish
nature of the subject. For instance, who would have supposed that Mr. Willard
had kept to himself so long the secret that he could make love in such manly,
natura1, and, in fact, loverly fashion. If there was one thing his best friends
and keenest admirers would say that Mr. Willard could not do, it was to make
love. His versatility was admitted. It could not be otherwise ; his perfor-
mances in "Claudian," " The Silver King," " Jim the Penman," " The Middle-
man," and "Filippo," all help to silence contradiction ; and in "Dick Venables,"
bad though the play was, he displayed distinctly humourous powers. But make
love, never !

Then, too, Miss Olga Brandon. What rapid progress she has made. She has
been among us for some time, and we have only just begun to discover that she
has the material of a great actress in her. Her Esther Eccles was a performance
full of gentle womanliness and sweet dignity ; but it was not to be compared
with her Vashti, which came as an absolute revelation of her powers. Full of
subtlety is her suggestion of the struggle between what she conceives to be due
to her contemptible father and the conscience of infamy awakened by her love for
Judah, which impels her to confide entirely in him, and the fear of his hatred
and contempt is equally well indicated. Again, in the faltering step, the faint,
hesitating voice and the almost hysterical affection for the Earl's daughter, we
are allowed a glimpse of the girl's terrible agony that is racking body and soul
alike, without the jarring shock that generally accompanies moral and physical
convulsions on the stage. That she should respond eloquently to Mr. Willard's
wooing is not so wonderful, for it would have inspired a Dutch doll. Where
again would you find such perfect subsidiary sketches as the Professor of Mr.
Sant Matthews, the eccentric lovers of Mr. Kerr and Miss Gertrude Warden, or
the bright, hysterical impulsive little maiden as played by Miss Bessie Hatton ;
to say nothing of the admirable comedy love-making (if anything so scientifically
cold can be so called) — comedy, it is true, not growing naturally out of the
play, but comedy we would not willingly lose for all that. Small wonder then
that in the virile strength and deep earnestness of the writing as a whole, in the
sympathetic treatment of the leading motive, the objections usually raised
against that class of subject should disappear and be forgotten.

With " A Village Priest " it is very different, inasmuch as there are grave in-
accuracies, without the introduction of which the pliy must fall to the ground.
In fact, not only the priest's sacrifice, but that of the convict is unnecessary and

JULY 1, 1890.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOA'. 45

indeed unreasonable, for it must be remembered that Torquenie does not go
back merely to serve out the few remaining months of his sentence, as no less
acute a critic than Mr. Moy Thomas assumes. He has broken gaol, and his
sentence of penal servitude for life, commuted from the death penalty, has been
further diminished to twenty years' penal servitude. Consequently, on being
captured, he would be subjected to several years' further imprisonment, if not
detained for life. This is no mere detail, since it makes the sacrifice the more im-
probable. " And the nobler," someone will add. Certainly, if it were necessary,
but it is not. His object is to save Madame D'Argay from the cruel knowledge
of her idolised husband's baseness. Why should she know ? The poor old lady
is blind ; she could not therefore read about the affair in the papers. Her life
is one round of benevolence and charity. She leads a quiet, secluded life, and
meets no one upon whose existence she has not shed some sweetness, and who
does not love and reverence her. It is an essential part of the character as Mr.
Grundy has portrayed it. Who, then, is going to wound her gentle spirit by idle
or malicious tittle-tattle. Even her unnaturally inexorable son relents for her sake.

To the indictment of the priestly resignation, we have to add another and a pre-
liminary count, which will render the others unnecessary. The Abbe distinctly
states that he has given the late Judge absolution. A moment's considera-
tion of the terms on which absolution would have been granted, sweeps away at
once all need for sacerdotal secrecy. Mere penitence, as Mr. Grundy probably
knows as well as anybody, is no sufficient ground for absolution. It must be
testified, when possible, in some practical way. In this case, there was one very
effectual means of minimising the consequence of one crime, and any priest who
understood his business would have insisted upon its adoption. This would no1;
necessarily have been a public declaration of the Judge's guilt and Torquenie's
innocence, but it would have involved such a disclosure of the facts as would
have released the latter and cleared his character before the world. With
nothing less would the Abbe have been satisfied, and it is not at all certain that
the dying man's final gasp, " Cleanse my soul from blood," was not a sufficient-
authority for the purpose. The necessity for the resignation has been demolished
over and over again on other grounds, but this one seems to have hitherto been
overlooked, though it is the initial and cardinal objection. Nevertheless, it
speaks with irresistible eloquence for the skill and power of Mr. Grundy in
writing his play, that not only are these things passed over in the absorbing in- *
terest of the drama, but so risky — had we not known the result, we should have
said fatal — an incident as the decision by the chance falling of a ray of moon-
light on the open Bible, has failed to raise more than the faintest protest. It is
a terrible pity that a work written in Mr. Grundy's best and most forcible style
should be disfigured by these blemishes in the way of motive ; but we are not
sure that it would not have been a greater misfortune if he had allowed a too
serious consideration of them to withhold from us a drama displaying such excellent
character drawing, such skilful construction, and so much deep philosophic
thought as "A Village Priest." By the way, it is noticeable that although Mr.
Tree will visit Ireland in the course of his approaching provincial tour, he
will not play " A Village Priest " there, out of deference, no doubt, to the
religious susceptibilities of the Roman Catholic populat'on.

"Queen's Council " proved to be anything but a happy adaptation of Sardou's
" Les Pommes du Voisin." Mr. James Mortimer has made of it a three-act
" farce," so-called ; but farces are supposed to make one laugh — this was tedious
and made one weary. Joseph Twitterton (Mr. E. M. Robson), after many
years of exemplary conduct, suddenly, and for the haziest of reasons, deter-
mines to pose as a gay Lothario, and with this view persistently follows Katarina
(Miss Marie Lewes), who for some equally incomprehensible reason is mas-
querading in male attire, a fact which Twitterton has ascertained. In the
course of his pursuit Twitterton is led to believe that he has committed 'murderr
and finally baked Katarina in an oven ! Mr. Robson was at times very droll,
and Miss Lewes managed to get through a very risky part in a manner worthy
of a far better one. She looked and acted well. Mr. W. Lugg as an Irish
landlord was clever and humorous. Miss Lydia Co well was excellent as Sally
Smart in "The Clockmaker's Hat," which was played as a first piece.

" In a Day," Mrs. Augusta Webber's poetic drama, has not sufficient fibre for
representation. It is more than gracefully written, and will be ever enjoyed in

40 THE THEATRE. [JuLYi,iS90.

tli3 study. In the production at Terry's on May 30th, Miss Davies Webster
made a promising London debut as the slave Klydone. Mr. Matthew Brodie,
one of the few young actors who understands the delivery of blank verse, was a
more than competent 'Myron ; and Mr. Stephens Phillips (who will ba remem-
bered as a member of Mr. Benson's Globe company) was acceptable as Olymnios.

Two very bright little operettas were produced at the Comedy on Thursday
afternoon, May 29th. The music of both was composed by Mr. Martyn Van
Lennep, and proved tuneful and graceful. In the former the orchestration was
scholarly, but the composer would have done better to allow someone else to
conduct. The libretto of " Head or Heart," by Arthur Chapman, was in every
way acceptable, though simply telling of a young Royalist in the time of the
French Revolution, who finds that he is mistaken as to the identity of the young
woman w'th whom he is to be forced into a marriage to save his head, and that
she is in fact a very charming young person. These two parts were excellently
filled by Mr. Templer Saxe (who is becoming a really good actor), and Miss
Annie Schuberth, both singing with great charm. Mr. B. P. Ssare was drily
humorous as Francois. Mr. Walter Parke's libretto of " The Dear Departed "
was quaint and droll. The story is very slight, though founded on " Le Clou
aux Maris." Mr. Saxe and Miss Schuberth sang with taste and expression
some very pretty numbers set down for them, and Miss Florence Marryat was
a clever Cassandra Doolittle.

"Gretna Green," by Mr. T. Murray Wood and Dr. Storer, reproduced at the
Opera Comique, Thursday, May 22nd, was noticed when first tried at the Comedy
Theatre. The changes in the cast were that Mr. William Hogarth played
Robin Bates, but only fairly. Miss Villa Knox, a young singer new to England,
made a favourable impression as Phyllis Ferns. A new character, that of Peter
Pong, a wandering singer, had been introduced, and thougli a little out of place
Mr. C. Collette got much fun out of it. The opera was handsomely staged, and
the orchestra a good one.

Mr. Sydney Grundy (whose portrait appears in this issue), the fortunate
author who has, at the time of writing this, a work of his running at
each of three of the principal theatres in London — the St. James's, the
Garrick, and the Haymarket— was born in Manchester, March 23, 1848,
and was called to the bar November 19, 18G9. He practised in his native
city for six years, and was, during the same period, leader writer and
dramatic critic on several Io3al papers. His future success as a dramatist was
foretold on the production of his maiden effort, a comedietta, entitled " A
Little Change," on the occasion of Mr. Buckstone's benefit at the Haymarket,
July 13, 1872, in which Mr. and Mrs. Kendal (then Miss Madge Robertson),
Mr. E. Arnott, and Miss Caroline Hill appeared. Mr. Grundy established him-
self in London in 1876, and, devoting himself entirely to dramatic writing, soon
gave us the fruits of his labours. On April 7, 1877, " Mammon," comedy, was
produced at the Strand. At the same theatre " The Snowball," farcical comedy,
February2, 1879. The Prince of Wales's, under Miss Marie Wilton's management,
saw the first production of " In Honour Bound," comedy, September 25, issn.
" The Vicar of Bray," comic opera, music by E. Solomon, Globe, July 22, 1882. In
1883 the author produced one original play " The Glass of Fashion," comedy,
Grand Theatre, Glasgow, March 2(3, Globe, London, September 8, and two adapta-
tions, " Rachel," drama, partly taken from " La Voleuse d'Enfants," April 14,
and " The Queen's Favourite," comedy, from " Le Verre d'Eau," June 2, both
at the Olympic. " The Silver Shield," comedy, was first played at the Strand,
May 19, 1885. May 1, 188G, " Clito," tragedy, was played at the Princess's ;
and Mr. Grundy then collaborated with Mr. Sutherland Edwards in " A Wife's
Sacrifice," a play adapted from " Martyre." In collaboration with Mr. Joseph
Mackay " May and December," comedy, from " La Petite Marquise," Criterion,
April 25, and with Mr. Henry Pettitt "The Bells of Haslemere," drama,
Adelphi, July 28, and his own adaptation from " Harun Alraschid,'1 " The
Arabian Nights," farcical comedy, Globe, November 5, were all produced in
1887. In the year 1888, we had on March 31, at the Haymarket, "The
Pompadour," partly founded on " Le Neveu de Ramenu" (Grundy and W. C.
Wills) ; July 19, Adelphi, " The Union Jack" (Pettitt and Grundy) ; and on

"THE THEATRE," JULY, 1890.

Photographed by Barraud, Oxford Street W.

MR, SYDNEY GRUNDY,

"And what's a cynic? A poor devil who's fool enough to put into words the
harshness wise men put into their deeds, and fool enough to put into deeds the kindness
wise men put into their words."— THE SILVER SHIELD (Sydney Gnmdy).

EGLINGTON & Co., PUBLISHERS,
LONDON.

"THE THEATRE," JULY, 1890,

Photographed by Barraud. Oxford Street, W.

MISS BESSIE MUTTON.

" I will chide no breather in the world, but myself ; against whom 1 know most
faults."-AS YOU LIKE IT, Act III, Sc. 2.

EQLINQTON A Co., PUBLISHERS,
LONDON.

JULY l, 1890.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 47

September 24, Court, " Mamma." adapted from " Les Surprises-du Divorce." Last
year "A Fool's Paradise," comedy, originally entitled "The Mousetrap,"\vas played
at a matinee at the Gaiety on February 12 ; " A. White Lie," play, at the Court,
May 25 ; and "Esther Sandraz," adapted from " La Femme de Glace," was first tried
at the Prince of Wales's on the afternoon of June 11, and has since been revived
by Mrs. Langtry at the St. Jamas's. Two of Mr. Grundy's most successful and
scholarly plays are now running, " A Pair of Spectacles," adapted from " Les
Petits Oiseaux," produced at the Garrick, February 22, 18DO ; and "A Village
Priest," suggested by " Le Secret de la Terreuse," first played at the Hay-
market, April 3, 1890. If all of these, Mr. Grundy's principal efforts, have not
achieved complete success, they have at least been distinguished by their
spirited, epigrammatic and clever dialogue ; some of them are in the very best
vein of humour, and most of them will live.

Miss Bessie Hatton (the subject of our first photograph) is the youngest
daughter of Mr. Joseph Hatton, the well-known and esteemed novelist and
journalist. She was educated at the Convent of the Visitation, in the Arderines,
and at Bedford College, London. That, when quite young — in fact only a child —
Miss Hatton showed a capacity for the stage was proved by her excellent ren-
dering of the character of Sir Peter Teazle in " The School for Scandal." Mr.
Chippendale not only kindly coached her in the part, but lent her his wig and
shoe buckles with the remark, " One day, when you are a great actress, you can
say you rehearsed Sir Peter in my wig, and wore my buckles in the part." Miss
Hatton, besides receiving several valuable hints from Mr. Walter Lacy and Mrs.
Arthur Stirling, was a pupil of the late Mrs. Chippendale. The young lady
profited well by her training, for, during two seasons, when with Mr. Benson's
company in the provinces, Miss Hatton filled with more than credit the roles of
Jessica, Marie, Duke of York, LTrsnla, Phoebe, Bianca, and the Queen in
" Hamlet." In Mrs. Dawes' " Nancy and Co." company, Miss Hatton was very
successful as Daisy Griffing. Prior to this, she had made her mark at the
Adelphi on the afternoon of June 24, 1886, by her intelligent and fervent reci-
tation of Lowell's "Relief of Lucknow," quite a remarkable performance for so
young a lady, having already made a reputation as a reciter at several semi-
private assemblies in New York during Mr. Henry Irving's first American tour.
Her interpretation of the character of Prince Arthur in " King John," at the
Memorial performances at Stratford-on-Avon, was most pathetic, and the ex-
cellence of her Prince of Wales, in Mr. Mansfield's revival of " Richard III.,"
was acknowledged on all sides. Miss Bessie Hatton has lately achieved a
marked success as Lady Eve in " Judah," now playing at the Shaf tesbury. The
character is a most difficult one, and would tax the powers of an actress of ex-
perience; the greater triumph, therefore, to Miss Hatton that she acquits herself
so admirably.

Mr. L. M. Mayer inaugurated his season of French plays at Her Majesty's
Theatre on June 2 with the production of "La Lutte pour La Vie," Alphonse
Daudet's five-act drama, first done at the Gymnase, October 30 of last year. The
piece was such a success in Paris that perhaps we expected too much, and were
led to believe we should have some deep and interesting study of the Darwinian
theory. Admirably as the play was acted here by the Gymnase company, it fell
comparatively dead. The only thing Darwinian about it is " the survival of the
fittest," in fulfilment of which theory Paul Astier (Marais) is destroyed by
Vaillant (Devaux) as being unfit to live, he having ruined Vaillant's daughter,
Lydie (Mdme. Darland). Astier is a man who lives but for himself ; he has
married Maria Antonia, Duchess of Padovani (Mdme. Pasca), a woman con-
siderably older than himself. Through her he has risen to a high position, and
through his excesses he has nearly ruined her. He therefore wishes her to
obtain a divorce from him. This she persistently refusing, he endeavours to
poison her ; but, as she is about to drink, his courage fails him and he prevents
her doing so. She has been aware of his designs, and, loving him despite all his
wickedness, in an exquisite scene, forgives him, and, to deter him from further
crime, consents to the divorce. He is anxious to marry a rich Jewess, Esther
de Seleny (Mdme. Demarsy), and preparations are being made for the espousals
when Astier is shot down. Simply told, this is the whole plot. Some good
come:!y scenes between the Marechale de Seleny (Mdme. Desclauzas), a

48 THE THEATRE. JULY 1, 1890.

lacrymose widow,' and Comte Adrian! (Paul Plan), a not-too-brave Italian
officer, were the cause of much laughter. Lortigue (Hirch), a man without
scruples, and Henetebize (Lagrange), an old servitor, are the only other
characters of much importance. The stage at Her Majesty's is too large for a
comedy of this sort. We shall see how the English version is accepted if Mr.
Alexander produces it at the Avenue.

The Lyceum season was brought to a close on Saturday evening, May 31,
before a crowded audience, which had assembled for the occasion of Miss Ellen
Terry's annual benefit. Mr. W. G-. Wills's four act play, " Olivia " was rendered with
that perfection which distinguishes Mr. Irving's company, he himself appearing
in one of his most endearing characters, that of Doctor Primrose, the Vicar of
Wakefield ; the fair benefiniaire was as usual a charming Olivia. Mr. W.
Terriss resumed his character of Squire Thornhill ; Mr. F. H. Macklin was
excellent as Mr. Burchell ; Mrs. Pauncefort, a loveable Mrs. Primrose ; Miss
Annie Irish, an engaging Sophia ; and Mr. Gordon Craig, a satisfactory Moses.
On^bhe fall of the curtain, after the numerous calls, Mr. Irving delivered the
following address : —

" LADIES AND GENTLEMEN : — It is, I believe, quite contrary to all the principles
of dramatic propriety to address an audience in front of the curtain, but I have
committed that crime so often that it is almost impossible to reform — in fact. I'm a
hardened offender — and I am here on behalf of Miss Ellen Terry to return her
grateful thanks for your presence on this occasion. Although our season has been a
longer one than usual, it seems a little odd to be addressing you in this fashion so
early as the month of May ; but long ago I promised my friend, Mr. Augustiu Daly,
that he should occupy this theatre from the month of June, when he brings with him
that famous company of comedians you know so well and to whom you are sure to
give a most cordial and delighted welcome. You probably know that Miss Terry and
I purpose giving some recitals of " Macbeth," beginning next Tuesday in Liverpool,
and should any of you be in our neighbourhood we should, of course, be much honoured
to see you ; but should you not be able to follow us upon any of our expeditions —
should Liverpool, or Manchester, or Edinburgh, or Glasgow be too far — perhaps you will
come and see us, upon our return, at the St. James's Hall, or at the Grand Theatre at
Islington, where we are looking forward to the pleasure of playing a fortnight's
engagement. Our next season will begin in September, when we shall present to
you a new play by Herman Merivale (if what was written ten years ago can be
called new) ; and judged from a literary standpoint I think you will find the play
to be a genuine addition to the English drama. Its theme is the immortal romance,
of the (i Bride of Lammermoor," and the play will be embellished by the music of
Dr. Mackenzie, to whom and to Mr. Seymour Lucas we are indebted for most valu-
able aid. As for the actors, their names are familiar to you, and I think you may
reckon on their well tried efforts to win your approval. And now, ladies and gen-
tlemen, I have only to thank you again and again for your constant kindness and
goodwill, to assure you that it is everything to know that your good wishes are
with us, and that we shall anticipate with the keenest pleas-are our next meeting
here (if all be well) in September.

Soon after the close of this little spssch, which was as well spoken as it was
heartily received, Mr. Irving welcomed his friends on the stage, and a very
pleasant time was passed by them.

The complimentary benefit to the widow of the late E. L. Blanchard took
place at Drury Lane Theatre (kindly lent by Mr. Augustus Harris) on Monday
afternoon, June 2, 1890, under the patronage of H.R.H. The Duchess of Teck,
His Grace the Duke of Fife, &c. The hard-working committee had arranged
a capital programme, to which Mr. Hermann Vezin, Mr. Charles Coborn, Miss
Kate James, Miss Minnie Mario, and Mr. Herbert Campbell contributed songs
and recitations. Mr. Harry Monkhouse and Miss Phyllis Broughton appeared
in " Waiting," and Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Dacre in " A Lost Thread," both very
amusing sketches. Two scenes from "King John " were given by Mr. Tree
and his Haymarket company. The second act of "Miss Tomboy" was capitally
done by the Vaudeville actors. Mr. William Terriss, Miss Mill ward, and those
who support them, appeared in the first act of " Paul Kauvar," and Mr. AVynd-
ham came from the Criterion as Mr. Walsingham Potts in '' Trying It On."
These were all good items, but curiosity was centred on the revival of " The
Artful Dodge," written many years ago by E. L. Blanchard. In this very

JULY 1, 1300.]

OUR OMNIBUS-BOX.

laughable farca, Mr. Arthur Williams was particularly droll and amusing as
Demosthenes Dodge. The following poetic and feeling address was specially
written for the occasion by Mr. Clement Scott, an old and valued friend of
the late Mr. Blanchard, and was admirably delivered by Miss Wallis (Mrs. Lan-
caster) and the ladies whose names appear (with the exception of Miss Harriett
Coveney, who was unfortunately too ill to be present, her lines being spoken
by Miss Victor) : —

MISS WALLIS (looking at album).
"How goo, I and kind, and he is gone I "

Be this the limit of our woe.
Our cry should rather be " Well done,"

We who h ive known and loved him so.
Well done, iiileed ! the kindly soul,

The first to 001113 at friendship's call,
Who mixed for us our " Wassail B3Wl,"

Good Father Christmas to us all '

Well done ! the honest gentle man !

With silvered head, whise golden pen
Enlivened life's allotted span

And earned the love of fellow-man.
He knew tli3 migic of the arts

A poet pure, a critic mild,
Graving his epitaph on hearts—

A man in strength, in heart a child !

B-.it, sisters ! know to us Is left

A gift more dear than tears or sighs—
A woman of her love bereft,

The be t of human legacies 1
The tried companion, widowed wife,

Sharer of sorrows, soul of truth,
Who cheered the evening hours of life

Of one who loved her in his youth.

We plead for one disconsolate,

Who, year by year, without applause
Has toiled to open Freedom's gate

For wom3ii and for women's cause !
For one who's taken by thu hand

And lilted orphans from their knees,
And led chem to Che Promised Land

Where women work beyond the seas.

We humbly plead that God may bless,

Our sister, scorning social ban,
Who's proved that women do possess

The noble energy of man !
We, one and all, are proud to tell,

And on this mimic stage proclaim,
That those who knew not '• dear B. L."

Love ! honour ! Mrs. Blanchard's name !

For woman, wife, and frlenl we ask

That you will dry her widow's tears,
'Will aid her in her life-long task

And comfort her declining years 1
Like him grim poverty she's faced,

For her, like him, let Love bestir,
For surely " somewhere in the waste

His shadow sits and waits for her ! "

ALMA MURRAY.

Have you not hear.l how, years ago,

When toiling at th' Antipodes,
She humbly prayed to God to know

How fared it with him, on her knees V
And gaze 1 upon the humble wall,

Paperel with scraps of news from home,
And seemed to hear her lover call

" Come back to me ! long lost ! oh, c Jtne !

CARLOTTA ADDISON.

Ah ! mystery of mysteries !

Close to h3r touch upon tho wall
She saw and read with eager eyes

The words that she had heard him call !

Some verses from his lone soul torn
Written to her, his Love ! his life !

And thus the night became the morn,
And so God made them Man and Wife !

CABLOTTA LKCLERCQ.

Before we part and say Good-bye,

Unless sweet recollections fail,
Have we not each seme memory

Of Christmas Time, or Winter's Tale ?

HOSE LEC'LERCQ.

Good sister mine ! why not recall
Princess's days, Shakespearean scenes

Sweet Perdita ! the best of all
In days of youngest of the Keans.

MISS HUDSPKTH.

Princess's days ! tradition helps
To gild the tales that history tells :

I bear the honoured name of Phelps,
Anl link his love with Sadler's Wells.

HARRIETT COVENEY.

That's right, I love th3 dsarold times,

So let us all bj youtiar again,
And d:incj in glorious pantoraimss,

In this old jolly Drury Lane !

MISS VICTOR.

For thirty-seven years at lease
He gave the Lane some fairy plan ;

I was at many a Caristmis feast
Provided by our " grand old m.va."

KATE PHILLIPS.

Good gracious ! how your tongues do run,
Enough of "good old times " for me !

Th3 brightest spark of modern fun
Flashed from the pen of E.L.B.!

MARY ROHKE.

HJ'.V Ii3 loved children i years and years
Ho toiled for them ere work was done ;

He made them dance away their tears,
And filled their little hjarts with fun.

KATE RORKE (listening).
Hash! someone knocks ! a voice I hsar,
A baby voice above this din :

(Goes to the dour)

Oil! such a pretty little dear,

A fairy ! may I let her in V

(k'n't'r MINNIE TERRY dressed as a Fairy, with
a Wreath off\otosrs and a bouquet in her hand).

MIXNIK TERRY.

I am a child from Fairyland,
A gift of (lowers my sisters send,

They bid 1113 kneel and kUs the hand

Of all who loved the Children's Friend !

Oh ! give her these ! and place this wreath
Above his face! (psintinj to picture) but let
her know

She must not weep, bat write beneath,
" The Children's gift wha love 1 him so."

Mr. Oscar Barrett, Mr. Claude Jaquinot, and Miss Eleanor Clausen, with her
•" Pompadour Band," were responsible for the music. Mr. Alfred Gibbons and
Mr. Harrington Baily kindly took upon themselves the duties of Hon.
Treasurer and Hon. Business Manager. In fact, all concerned gave their ser-
vices, and so the benefit resulted in some £250 being handed to Mrs. Blanchard,

50 THE THEATRE. [JULY 1, 1300

whose most deserving labours in the cause of emigration were thus once more
recognised.

At the Criterion Theatre on the afternoon of Thursday, June 5, 1890, a
matinee was given in aid of the funds of the parish of Holy Cross in St. Pancras.
The house was crowded by a most distinguished assemblage. H.R.H. the
Princess of Wales and the Princesses Victoria and Maud, the Duke of Clarence
and Avondale, H.R.H. Princess Louise, Marchioness of Lome, and H.R.H.
Princess Frederica honouring the performance with their presence. A proverb
in two acts, "Sowing and Reaping," was played for the first time. As it will
certainly be seen again, we reserve any further notice of it till it be put in a
public bill, for this occasion was a semi-private one. " Waiting," and Mr.
Rutland Barrington's '• A Swarry Dansong," with Mr. E. Solomon's music,
which the author with Miss Jessie Bond so cleverly interpret, made up an ex-
cellent programme.

A Soiree Dramatique was given at Queen's Gate Hall, oil Friday, June 6.
Mr. Henry V. Esmond was excellent as Fillippo in Mr. Jerome K. Jerome's
poetic little play. " Fennel," and also showed himself a good comedian as
Mr. Paddingtou Green in Maddison Morton's comedy, "If I Had a Thousand
a Year." He was well supported by Mr. Royston Keith, Miss Annie Hill,
Miss Helen Groeme, and Mr. Cecil Thornbury, the latter gentleman also dis-
tinguishing himself in an amusing parody song on the " Garden of Sleep." Mr.
Henry Bedford recited most humorously " The Tale of the Stork."

"Paris Fin de Siecle " must hive baan as caviare to the great proportion of
the audiences attracted to Her Majesty's, for good French scholars as they may
have been, none but French men and women, and even those resident in Paris,
or people who live altogether in Paris, would understand or appreciate the work
of M.M. Blum and Toche. Clever it undoubtedly is, but we think M. Mayer
would readily have found a play more worthy of his company, for " Paris Fin
de Siecle " is but a reflex of the doings of a certain section of Parisian society,
the humour of which can only be thoroughly relished by those who are actually
members of that section, and who, whilst seeing themselves perhaps caricatured,
are yet afforded amusement by beholding their friends in the pillory.

Miss Lucy Buckstone, an actress whom we should be glad to see in a regular
engagement in London, took a benefit at the Vaudeville on May 29th, when
" Married Life " was played with a remarkably good cast, Miss Ellen Terry ap-
pearing as a waiting-maid. A feature of the afternoon was the appearance of
Mr. Creston Clarke (son of Mr. J. S. Clarke) as Hamlet. In the closet scene
he showed great promise. An address, written by Mr. R. Reece, was charmingly
delivered by Miss Eleanor Buf ton.

"A Buried Talent," first seen by Londoners at the Vaudeville Theatre on
Thursday afternoon, June 5, is a charming little play, and will bring its author,
Mr. Louis N. Parker, at once into notice. It tells a simple but most sympathetic
story. Maris (Mr. Ben Greet) is an old composer who has done some excellent
work, but who will not allow it to be heard in public. The director of the
theatre endeavours to induce him to part with one of his operas, but Maris will
not be persuaded. One of his pupils, Pietro (Mr. Bassett Roe), purloins the
score, and passes it off as his own. It is to be played, when the primu donna
throws up her part, and Pietro, driven into a corner, is obliged to confess his
theft to Maris's young wife Stella (Mrs. Patrick Campbell), that she may con-
sent to fill the principal role. Maris is led to believe that his wife is faithless,
and is in an agony of despair, when she returns, tells him of the magnificent
success of his opera, and how she has from the stage told the audience whose
work it really was. " A Buried Talent " was most excellently played.

The £100 Prize of the Art Union of London, has been selected from the
19th Century Art Society's Exhibition in Conduit Street. The work is by
Hamilton Marr, A.R.C.A.

JULY 1, 1390.1 OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 51

"A Convict's Wife ; or, The Romance of Marriage," the four-act drama, by
W. Sapte, junr., produced at the Grand Theatre, on Monday, May 19 (not 20th
as stated in error) was originally tried at the Prince of Wales' Theatre, London,
on Friday afternoon May 31st of last year. The plot was given in the July, 1889,
number of THE THEATRE. The play was then entitled " Marah," and has since
that date been strengthened and was certainly well received by the Islington
audiences, and should do well in the provinces. In the revival Mrs. B. M. De
Solla (Mrs. Grey) Miss M. Schubert (Marguerite Cordaix), and Mr. Ivan Watson
(Bougerou) most satisfactorily resumed their original characters. The re-
mainder of the cast was as follows: — Miss Florence West (Lilian Grey), Mrs.
C. L. Carson (Winifred, a bright performance), Mr. J. H. Barnes (Geoffrey
Blount, R.N.) Mr. Lewis Waller (Paul Garnant, powerfully played), Mr. Scott
Buist (Harvey Holmes, good). Mr. Willie Drew (Jack Brande, cleverly
acted), Mr. C. H.Thornbury (Mr. Hunt), and Mr. Milton Buist (Waiter).

" The Grandsire," adapted by Mr. Archer Woolhouse from M. Richepin's Le
Flibuhtler was originally produced at Terry's Theatre, May 15, 1889. An
account of it well be found in the July Omnibus Box of THE THEATRE. Mr.
George Alexander revived the play at the Avenue Theatre, on Wednesday
afternoon, May 21, himself appearing as the old sailor, Francois Legoez, and
though the assumption of such a character was naturally most difficult, Mr.
Alexander triumphed and displayed great feeling and truth to nature in the
agonized craving of the old man once more to behold his idolized grandson. Mr.
Nutcombe Gould was excellent as Jacquemin. Mr. Benjamin Webster suited
well the part of Pierre, and Miss Cailr>tta Leclercq was effective as Marie Anne.
Miss Maria Linden was a charming Janik. On the same day a very brightly
written duologue, entitled " The Will and the Way," by Justin Huntly M'Carthy,
was tried for the first time, and proved so amusing and was so well played by Miss
Elizabeth Robins as Sybil Wisdom, and by Mr. Benjamin Webster as Stanley-
Grant that it was at once put in the evening bill. It only tells of a young lady
who, determined to prevent her love from keeping as she fancies an appointment
with a rival, puts back the clock. She need have had no fears, however, for he
was but anxious to get a way and return with a Japanese fan, on which is painted
a love scene that he hopci might enable him to declare his passion with greater
ease.

The -Wagner Society gives notice through its hon. sec., Mr. Charles-
Dowdeswell, that the Richter concert of June 30 will be held, as last year, 'in
conjunction with the Wagner Society. Subject to alterations which may ulti-
mately be found to be inevitable, the programme will consist of the following
Wagnerian selections : — 1. Overture — " Die Feen " (first performance at the-
Richter Concerts). 2. Elizabeth's air from " Tannbauser," Miss Pauline Cramer,
3. Siegfried- Idyll. 4. S;ene iii, Act iii, from "Die Walkiire," Miss Pauline
Cramer and Mr. Henschel. 5. Symphony in C (M S.) (first performance at the
Richter Concerts).

Miss Rosa Kenney gave a recital at the Steinway Hall on June 10, and
proved herself a good elocutionist in " The Passing of Arthur," and a bright
comedienne in Campbell Rie-Brown's " A Pair of Stars," and exhibited much
intelligence in " The Garden of Paradise." Mr. Mowbray Marras very
efficiently supported Miss Kenney.

It would not be fair to criticise the open-air performance that partly took
place on Thursday, June 12, of " Twelfth-Night," as arranged by Miss E.
Bessie for her company. Only the first act had been given when there was a
downpour of rain. Actors and audience hurried away for shelter, and owing to
want of arrangement, which was due neither to Miss Bessie nor Mr. Ivan Berlin,
the play was not resumed. A concert was substituted, in which the only per-
formance worthy of notice was that of the clever Field-Fisher family. Miss
Bessie announces that the tickets taken for the day in question will be available
at a future date, which will shortly be fixed. From what little we did see of
" Twelfth Night " we came to the conclusion that Miss Bessie's company was
an excellent one, and we shall look forward to noticing the play in its
entirety.

$2 THE THEATRE. [JULY 1, is 90.

Mr. Wilson Barrett concludes his American tour at Sacremento, California,
on July G, and journeys with his company direct to New York, sailing thence
per " City of New York " He has arranged a short provincial tour of five
weeks, prior to the opening of his new London theatre, commencing at Liver-
pool, on August 25, and concluding at his own (Grand) theatre, Leeds, on
September 27. The name of the new theatre has not yet been decided upon,
but remains in abeyance until Mr. Barrett's return ; the subject of his opening
production also awaits his final decision, on his arrival in England.

Miss Adelaide Moore commenced her season at the Globe as Juliet, but as we
understand that the lady was suffering on her first performance in London we will
make every allowance, and hope to see her in some other character under more
favourable circumstances. The Romeo of Mr. Otis Skinner was excellent, the
Mercutio of Mr. Mark Quinton had much in it to commend, and the Nurse of
Mrs. Charles Calvert was played on conventional lines. Mr. Edwin Wilde was a
promising Tybalt. The mounting of the piece was handsome.

We omitted to mention in our biography of Miss Sylvia Grey last month,
that we were indebted to the courtesy of Messrs. Downey for the very excellent
photograph of this charming actress.

For the illustrations to " The Bride of Love '' we are indebted to the courtesy
of the proprietor of the Lady's Pictorial.

New plays produced and important revivals in London, from May 19, 1890,
to June 20, 1890.

(Revivals are marked thus0).
May 19 " A Convict's Wife ; or, the Romance of Marriage," comedy-drama in

four acts, by W. Sapte, jun., originally produced under the title of

" Marah " at the Prince of YVales's matinee, May 31st, 1889 (omitted

in " Productions " in June number). Grand, Islington.
„ 21 " The Will and the Way," duolojue by Justin Huntly McCarthy.

Matinee. Avenue.
„ 21 " The Bride of Love," poetical play, in four acts, by Robert Buchanan.

Matinee. Adelphi. Placed in the evening bill at the Lyric on its

re-opening. June 9, 1890.

„ 21 " Judah," play, in three acts, by Henry Arthur Jones. Shaftesbury.
„ 22 "A Riverside Story," original play, in two acts, by Mrs. Bancroft.

Matinee. Haymarket.
„ 22 "The Up Train," adaptation from the French "En Wagon," by

C. P. Colnaghi. Matinee. Haymarket.
„ 22° " Uretna Green," comedy opera, in three acts, written by T. Murray

Ford, composed by John Storer, Mus. Doc. Opera Comique.
„ 22 " Mesmerism," farce, by Carrol Clyde. Opera Comique.
„ 24 " Queen's Counsel," three act farce, by James Mortimer. Comedy.
,, 24* " The Clockmaker's Hat," comedietta, by T. \V. Robertson. Comedy.
„ 20 " Adoption/' a "new matrimonial mixture," in one act, by Richard

Henry. Toole's.
„ 27 "The New Wing," original farcical comedy, by H. Arthur Kennedy.

Matinee. Strand.
„ 27 " A Throw of the Dice," one-act piece, by H. Arthur Kennedy.

Matinef. Strand.
„ 28 " Wanted a Wife," three-act farcical comedy, by J. H. Darnley (first

time in London). Matinee. Terry's.
„ 29 " Head or Heart," original operetta, libretto by Arthur Chapman,

music by Martyn Van Lennep. Matinee. Comedy.
„ 29 " The Dear Departed," comedy operetta, libretto by Walter Parke,

music by H. Martyn Van Lennep. Matines. Comedy.
,, 30 " In a Day," poetic drama, in three acts, by Augusta Webster.

Matinee. Terry's.
June 2 " La Lutte pour la Vie," drama in five acts and six tableaux, by

Alphonse Daudet. French plays, Her Majesty's.
„ 2° "The Artful Dodge," farce by the late E. L. Blanchard. Ma'inet.

Drury Lane.

i'.-)! OUR OMNIBUS-BOA'. 53

June 3 " Eulalie," original serious operetta, in one act, written by " Austin

Fryers," composed by Charles J. Lacock. Forester's Hall, Clerken-

well.
,, 5 " A Baried Talent," play, in one act and three tableaux, by Louis N.

Parker. Matinee. Vaudeville.
„ 5 "In Olden Days," a "cavalier incident," in one act, by Agatha and

Archibald Hodgson. Matinee. Vaudeville.
„ 5s " Picking Up the Pieces," sketch, by Julian Sturgis. Matinee.

Vaudeville.
,, 5 " Sowing and Reaping," proverb, in two acts (author unannounced).

Matinee. Criterion.
,, 5 "A Swarry Dansong," written by Rutland Birrington, music by

E. Solomon. Matinee. Criterion.
,, 6 " The Two Recruits," farcical comedy, in three acts, by Frank Wyatt

(for copyright purposes). Royalty.
,, 7 " Nerves," three-act farcical comedy, by J. Comyns Carr, adapted

from the French, " Les Femme JNerveuses." Comedy.
,, 9 "Joan; or, the Brigands of Bluegoria," comic opera, by Robert

Martin. Music by Ernest Ford. Opera Comique.
-''„ , 9 " Paris Fin de Siecle," five-act play, by Ernest Blum and Raoul

Toche. French plays, Her Majesty's.
,, 10- " Casting the Boomerang," comedy, ir. four acts, by Augustin Daly.

Lyceum.
,, 12 :' A People's Hero," drama, in four acts, founded on Ouida's

" Tricotrin." Matinee. Vaudeville.

,, 14 " The Society Peepshow,'' by Corney Grain. St. George's Hall.
„ 17s " Romeo and Juliet," by William Shakespeare. Comedy.
,, 17 " Duskie," one-act comedy, by Mrs. G. Thompson and Miss Kate

Sinclair. Ladbroke Hall.
,, 17 "Men and Women," one-act comedy, by Frank Lindo. Ladbroke

Hall.
„ 19 '* An Enemy of the People," Henrik Ibsen's play, read by Mrs.

Erving Winlow. Haymarket.
,, 20 "Outwitted," comedietta by Nita Praeger. Meistersingers' Club.

In the Provinces from May 12th, 1890, to June 16, 1890.

May s]2 " The Irish Priest," drama, in tour acts, by Brandon Ellis. Grand,

Glasgow.
,, 23 "A Baried Talent," play, in three scenes, by Louis N. Parker.

Royalty, Glasgow.
„ 24 " Bred in the Bone : a Story of Circus Life," play, written by F.

Teale Lingham, in a prologue and four acts. Matinee (for copyright

purposes). Ro)al, Edmonton.
„ 2G '• Flying from Justice," original melodrama, in five acts, by Mark

Melford. Prince of Wales's. Southampton.
„ 26 " A Golden Harvest,1' drama, in four acts, by F. Jarman. New

Theatre Royal, Liverpool.
,, 29 " Held in Harness," original comedy drama, in four acts, by C. A.

Clarke. Queen's Theatre, Keighley.
June 2 "Missing," romantic anl semi-musical drama, in a prologue and four

acts, by Mark Melford. T.R., Huddersfield.
,, 4 " A Peer of the Realm," romantic drama, in four acts, by Fred W.

Broughton (for copjright purposes). T.R., Bolton.
,, 5 " Arianween," operj, in three acts, written and composed by Joseph

Parry. T.R., Cardiif.
,, 9 "Music at Home," comedy, by Miss Rose Seaton. Opera House,

Chatham.
„ 9 " Mrs. Donnithorne's Rent," comedy, by Miss Rose Seaton. Opera

House, Chatham.
,, 9 " Dangers of London" drama in three acts, by F. A. Scudamore. T.R.

Cardiff.
,, 12 " Taunton Vale," three-act drama, by Louis N. Parker. T.R.,

Manchester.
" 1C "The Forty Thieves down to Date," burlesque by G. V. Keast.

Grand Theatre, Storehouse, Plymouth.

54 THE THEATRE. [JULY i, 1890.

la Paris, from May 13, 1830, to June 18, 1890.

May 16 "Devant I'Ennemi," five-ait pliy, by Paul Clurfcon. Arnbigu.
„ 17 " Une Famille," four-act comady, by Henri Lavedan. Frangais.
„ 20 "Li Revanche du Miri," three-act comedy, by Felix Cohen and

Grenet-Dancourt. Dejazet.
„ 24 "Le Hanneton d'Heloisa," four-act vaudeville, by George Duval.

Folies-Dramatiques.
„ 27° " La Jeunesse de Louis XIV.," five-act play, by Alexander Dumas.

Porte St. Martin.
„ 23 " Zaire," two-act opera, libretto by E Jouird Blau and Louis Bssson.

composed by Verouge de la Xux. Opera.
„ 30 "La Basoche," comic opera, in three acts, book by Albert Carre",

composed by Andre Messager. Opera Comique.
June 1° " L3S Provinciales a Paris," four-act comady vaudeville, byfea Emile

de Najac and Pol Moreau. Palais Royal.
„ 9 " Le Rave," ballet, in two acts and three scanes, by Edouard Blaa.

Music by Leon Gastinel. Opera.
„ 10 " Cinq Mille Quatre," three-act farcical comedy, by Albert Guinon

and Ambroise Janvier. Dejazet.
„ 11 "Tout Feu, Tout Flamms," three-act vauleville, by Richard

O'Monroy. Vari^tt33.
„ 18s "La Fille de Roland," four act drama in verse, by Henri de Bornier.

[Notices of" Jeanne D'Arc" the opening of the St. James s Theatre under Mr.
Bourchiers manajement, and several other plays, are unavoidably held over till
next issue"].

THE THEATRE.

Dramatic Criticism : from a Dramatic Critic's
Point of View.

BY WILLIAM DAVENPORT ADAMS.

HE subject of dramatic criticism as it is to-day has lately
been dealt with by two writers in this Magazine. First in-
the field was " A. J. D.," who sought to prove that the
theatrical censors of this generation are vastly inferior
to those who lived in the " palmy days " of the art ; that
whereas the latter took the theatre seriously, and wrote
about it earnestly and carefully, their degenerate successors
regard it as a mere laughing place for the languid, and discourse of it
either with dulness or with flippancy. In too many cases, we are
told, the critics are at once ignorant of all but the most superficial
surroundings of the stage, and indifferent as to its welfare. We have
no real criticism, says " A. J. D." in effect ; we have only mere
" notices," which, when they are not commonplace, are either spiteful
or over-eulogistic. What we want, it seems, is a combination of the
"careful thought" of the past with the "vivid descriptive style"
which the modern reader looks for. Mr. Evelyn Ballantyne, who
came last month to the assistance of his brethren, was constrained to
allow that there are two great blots on the " minor criticism " of our
time : — (1) " The appalling dearth of freshness, and originality in
style and treatment ; " and (2) " the gradual growth of the bastard
style of writing termed ' journalese.' " Incidentally, too, he admitted
that "the cultured critic is generally too much of an idealist, his en-
thusiasm for the best interests of the drama tending to a certain want
of catholicity of taste."

These, I think, are the chief points in the latest indictment against
present-day dramatic criticism. Let us concede, for the sake of
argument, that the degeneracy complained of has been proved — that
the dramatic critics of the period are not all Hazlitcs and Leigh
Hunts and Lambs, and that the literary and critical quality of their
lucubrations is not always unimpeachable. If this be so, there may
be excellent reasons for it. The older critics wrought under circum-

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI. D

•56 THE THEATRE. [AUG. i, 1890.

stances very different from those that now obtain. They had, to
begin with, much less to do ; there were considerably fewer theatres
to attend, and therefore considerably fewer performances to "notice."
"There was time, in those days, to elaborate and polish critical work.
Professional censors were not then called upon, as they are now, to
fee present, many times during the season, at two representations per
<iay, and to deal with those representations in next morning's paper.
Their work was at once lighter and more leisurely, smaller in quan-
tity, and much less hurried in production. Moreover, they wrote
for a very much smaller, and much more interested, public. They
addressed themselves mainly to the community of enthusiastic play-
goers— playgoers who might be expected to appreciate and value such
•care as the critics bestowed upon their judgments. There is such
-another community in existence at the present time, but it is only
<one among many sections of the public, and by no means remarkable
numerically. The theatre-goers of to-dajT combine a large variety of
classes. There are those who " patronize " the theatre because they
love it ; would there were more of them ! There are those who do
so because it diverts and amuses them ; those who go to the play
^because there is nothing else to occupy their time ; those who go to
it because it is the fashion to go ; and so on, and so on. All these
sections have to be written for, and the fact has tended to revolu-
tionize the methods of dramatic criticism. There are now almost as
mmy theatrical critics as there are newspapers ; and newspapers —
their name is legion ! Is it at all wonderful if, among so many
•writers about the stage, there should be occasion for the strictures of
"A. J. D." and Mr. Ballantyne ?

" A. J. D.," in particular, expects too much. He does not make
allowance for the conditions under which dramatic criticism is pro-
duced. Mr. Ballantyne is in one respect quite right : the critics must
adapt themselves to those for whom they cater. What will suit the
serious or cultured will not suit the frivolous or uncultured. The
•critic of a monthly magazine, or high-class weekly periodical, can do
what the critic of the daily paper cannot do. Not only is he
addressing an educated and thoughtful clientele : he has more space
accorded to him than the daily paper in most instances can spare,
4ind has opportunity, therefore, for a full consideration of his subject.
In appraising theatrical comment, these facts should always be kept
in mind. The critic labours under certain limitations, and by these
limitations he should be judged. He often pens a "notice " rather
than a " criticism," because it is only for a " notice " that he has
room. Only on specially important occasions will the editor of a
•" daily" readily grant the space necessary to the writer who desires to
•do entire justice to his theme. And on such occasions, I venture to say,
the first-class journals invariably supply their readers with criticism
on which much pains, knowledge, and acumen have been bestowed.
Another point to be recollected is that criticism necessarily varies
according to the theatre and the class of piece discussed. A different
(test must be applied to different locales and different bills of fare.

AUG. i, 1890.] DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 57

Incompetent, I think, would be that journalist who upheld at the
homes of farcical comedy the standard of taste which he upheld at
the homes of serious drama. There is force in what Mr. Ballantyne
says about the " cultured critic : " he is too apt to be narrow and in-
tolerant— to disparage Adelphi melodrama because the sestheticism of
the Lyceum is more to his own liking. The Adelphi supplies the
article which its patrons ask for ; the Lyceum does the same. We
may think the one article essentially superior to the other ; but we ,
have also to recognise and respect the idiosyncrasies of audiences,
who have a right to indulge in their particular predilections.

We have here an explanation of some, afc least, of th.3 " dulness "
and "commonplace" — the "dearth of freshness ani originality" —
in modern criticism, of which " A. J. D." and Mr. Ballantyne com-
plain. The critic is very much the slave of his subject-matter. A
big revival of Shakespeare, for example, may supply him with
pabulum for a colunmful of such " freshness and originality " as ho
may be possessed of ; but what is he to do in face of a new melo-
drama, composed of old characters and situations, or a new farcical
comedy, constructed on lines so familiar as to be nauseous ? The
chances are that both the comedy or the melodrama delight the
people for whom they have been concocted ; and what is there for
the critic to do except to ignore his own weariness, and record the
fact of a triumph with which, personally, he has no sympathy at all ?
After all, the melodrama or the comedy were not put together for
him, or for those like him ; they wera prepared for a certain sort of
palate, which they gratify. He might fulminate against them as
being trite and jejune, and, in so doing, produce a bright and lively
" criticism ; " but I should say that he was doing his duty better
when he merely accepted them as " popular successes," and sadly
went his way. His "notice" might be "commonplace," perhaps,
and even " dull," but it would be tolerant of tastes other than his
own. Probably the first lesson that a critic has to learn is that
of estimating plays according to the genre to which they belong
and the public to which they appeal. The superfine censor will
condemn all melodrama as sheer twaddle ; the judicious will say oC
a melodrama whether it is good or bad of its kind. If it is good,
then it has a right to exist, whether it does or does not give .enjoy-
ment to the individual critic. Unhappily, the majority of the plays
produced nowadays are poor stuff, and that is one powerful and
important reason why so little of the criticism of to-day is worth
reading for itself. If we were in the presence of a true and living
drama, such as that of the Elizabethan era, contemporary censors
might be found producing commentaries of which even " A. J. D."
could heartily approve.

" A. J. D.," it will be noted, accuses the critics — or certain of them
— of ignorance and indifference, of spite and over-eulogy. .Well,
the seare charges which it is difficult to repel, because they are. so
vague. Critics are human, like their fellows ; and now and again, it
may be, personal feeling creeps into " notices "from which, obviously,

68 THE THEATRE. [AUG. i, 1890.

it ought always to be absent. It is quite possible that criticism
frequently is biassad by friendship or the reverse, by personal
sympathy or antipathy. For that reason and for others, I should,
for my own part, ba glal if every theitrical " notice " were signed
with the name or the initials of its author. It is purely the expres-
sion of individual opinion, and is in no sense editorial. It might,,
therefore, be signed both with propriety and with advantage. The
public would then be able to judge of the qualifications and tenden-
cies of a writer, and would form its conclusions accordingly. The-
editorial " we " may well be used in reference to political and social
matters, in regard to which the paper using it may be said to
represent a large body of opinion. But a criticism must necessarily
ba the ipse dixit of one parson, and, as such, is not entitled to the
weight carried by the aforesaid " we." Moreover, the disuse of that
" we," and the adoption of a signature, would exhibit the extent to-
which, nowadays, criticism is manifolded ; one writer, say, recording
his opinion in a morning, an evening, and a weekly paper. The-
public, I think, ought not to be allowed to remain under the
impression that, in reading the dramitic criticisms of those three
papers, it is getting at the views of three separate authorities. If we
all signed our work, no such mistakes could be made. I do not
believe, however, that, even as things are, much harm is done either
by anonymous detraction or by anonymous " log-rolling." The-
playgoing class has learned to take dramatic criticism in the lump,,
and to subject it, moreover, to a weighing and analytic process.
The prejudices of the critics become known in time, and the
judicious reader makes due allowance for the weaknesses revealed
by them.

Then there is the ascription to the press of " ignorance " and " in-
difference." As regards the first, I am disposed to believe that, in that
case also, little practical injury is done either to individuals or
to the public. If a critic is incompetent, the fact is sure to be obvious,
on the face of his pronouncement. His speech will bewray him.
There will be something in what he says, or in the mode in which he
says it, which will excite sufpicion and distrust. The public is a
keen-sighted judge, and takes the measure of those who write for it.
We have all of us, no doubt, our conception of an ideal dramatic critic.
To entire honesty he would add the amplest power of sympathy, and
to both of these a full knowledge at least of the history of the stage
and of the drama in all countries from the earliest times ; a sound ac-
quaintance with all the principal plays, at any rate, produced by the
ancients or the modern foreigner; an intimate knowledge of the
dramatic literature and stage history of his own country ; a long ex-
perience as a playgoer, sufficiently long to give him a high standard,
of appraisement ; and, above all, a clear conception, obtained from all
this study, of the limits and characteristics of the dramatic and his-
trionic arts. Assessed on such a basis, who should stand ? Assuredly,,
but few. The remainder would have to confess to but a distant ap-
proach to such an ideal. What, indeed, is to be expected ? How can

AUG. I, isco.] DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 59

the multitudinous newspaper critics all be monsters of erudition and
experience? Complaint is often made of the inadequacy of the
theatrical criticism in the minor London journals, and in most of the
provincial newspapers. How can the former afford to employ the
best available " talent," and how can the latter be supposed to have
on their staffs a sufficient number of competent judges to cope with
all the performances given simultaneously on the Monday evenings ?
In some of our great towns there are at least three theatres, each pre-
senting, as a rule, a fresh programme at the beginning of each week ;
can we be surprised, therefore, if, in the case of one or two of those
theatres, the duty of writing the "notice " devolves upon a contributor
who falls conspicuously short of the ideal above named ?

The last charge of which ona need take cognizance is that of
" indifference " to the " welfare " of the drama — of not taking the
stage seriously, and not writing seriously, about it. The accusation
strikes me as ungrateful and unfounded. Theatrical performances
are treated nowadays with abundant solemnity. There may be
some flippant young gentlemen who scoff both at plays and at players,
dismissing them with a familiarity which implies contempt. But
in general the theatre has a large measure of attention — and of
respectful attention — paid to it. Some people think it has an undue
share of notice. But that is not the case. It is the chief entertain-
ment of the people, and, as such, is entitled to the most careful con-
sideration. No doubt there are much more important things in the
world ; but the amusements of a nation are always worth studying
and controlling. Now and then the critics are less sympathetic than
they might be ; it is probably by way of reaction against extreme
devotion to the stage and its votaries. There are those who cannot
rise to the very lofty level from which the author of "Judah,"for
instance, "regards the dramatic art. Incidentally the drama can do
great good, by dealing finely with the finest elements of human nature.
But there is no reason why it should always aim so high. One
regards with enthusiasm plays of fresh motive and literary merit
like " Judah," but one may be able nevertheless to enjoy all that is
clever and bright in a Gaiety burlesque or a comic opera. The author
of " Judah " seems inclined to bar all things dramatic that do not
treat men and manners earnestly. To do that would be to restrict very
greatly the sphere of the drama, or to make the stage merely an ally
of the pulpit, instead of a means of giving innocent diversion to the
jaded and the weary.

60 THE THEATRE. [AUG. l. 1890.

Synariss.:

AN INCIDENT IN THE MARRIAGE-MARKET OF BABYLON.

(For Recitation.)
BY HARRIET KENDALL.

'ER Babylonia shone the reddened glow

Of noon's refulgent splendour. Near and far
The drowsy heaviness of sultry heat
Lay like a hush upon the thirsty plains.

'Twas Babylonia's marriage-market-daj7,

The market-place was thronged with rich and poor,

Eager to buy, and eager to be sold.

Beauty that dreamed of some new happiness

From gilded wealth put on its fairest front,

While even ugliness assumed a leer

Of hideous coquetry, for 'twas disgrace

To be unpurchased ; and the accustomed wont

Of sellers was to dowry those less fair

From the high tributes paid for lovely maids.

But ihere was one of chaste and perfect mould,

Whom all the villagers had grown to call

" The Queen of Babylon." Imperial grace

Was in her mien ; a passionate eloquence

Kindled her dusky eyes. From year to year,

In the rich promise of her sunny youth,

Her father had withheld her jealously,

With greedy hope of some rich purchaser ;

And every year expectance had been rife,

For through the neighbouring towns and villages

The fame of her exceeding loveliness

Had spread, and many a youth stored gold and gems

For future claim, and said " She shall be mine ! "

But Synariss with queenly scorn laughed at

Those feverish words that reached her ear betimes.

None knew her eyes were dark with a great love,

Which ripened in her heart like summer fruit,

Untold — yet felt by one whose passionate gaze

Had spoken all the passionate agony

Of hopeless hope. For what avails poor love

To weigh the scale 'gainst glittering gold and gems ?

AUG. 1, 1890. J "SYWABISB." 61

And when 'twas whispered far through Babylon
That beauteous Synariss would soon be sold,
With eager eyes gloating upon her face,
And counting up each smile as 'twere a thing
For merchandise, thus did her father speak : —

" The time is coming, nay ! has come, when thou
Must realise tha price of which I've dreamed,
When thy rips charms shall startle every eye
To long for thee, till the rich glow of all
Thy queenly beauty shall inflame, make mad
With throbs of fiercest passion every soul !
This time I've waited for — nay ! loathe me not
With those dark eyes — thou can'st not turn me back
From my fixed purpose now. Wsep not ! No tears
Of thine can hinder me ! I hated her
Who bore thee, for her soul was false to me,
As falss as hell ! Her love was pledged to one
Who was my foe ! I killed her for the hate
I bore him who had cursed her life and mine !
I killed her — and I swore to be avenged !

" Hast thou not seen how I have hated thee

Through all the years I've cherished thy fair form,

And treasured up thy queenly loveliness,

That I might one day list with rapture to thy cry

Of mortal anguish. Do not kneel to me !

In the great waste of life 'twere almost mirth

To see a misery as great as mine.

I joy to know thy spotless soul is built

Of such high stature ; joy to feel that thy

Few years of youth shall now grow old in pain:.

Silence ! the scornful curve of thy proud lips

Is vain ! I have but lived for this, to wring

From thy pure soul the price of my wronged youth,

And my lost manhood. Go ! all Babylon

Will bring its gold and baubles to thy feet.

Laugh loud, ye Furies, till the price be mine 1

Hate needs a heavy purse to pay its debt ! "

Forth to the market-place was Synariss led,
With veiled face, and with a brand of shame
Upon her soul. The bright rich glow of youth
Had faded from her brow. Fierce anger burned
In every vein. The buzz and hum around
Smote on her heart with a great sense of wrong-
The market rang with joy ; the purchasers
Shouted aloud, " To-day comes Synariss !
The Queen of Babylon ! Fair Synariss ! "
And the walls echoed back, " Fair Synariss 1 '*

62 THE THEATRE. [Arc. l, 1390.

The bell rings suddenly ; the crier calls

Each lovely maid — but his loud voice is drowned

By the excited crowd, " Bring Synariss !

Queen Synariss ! " And he who loves her well —

Leone, who can bring no gold or gems,

Waits with hushed voice and breathless eagerness

For her approach. " She comes ! Ah, yes ! She conies ! "

Stately as Eastern Queen ; of perfect mien.

In form a Juno ! Burning eyes that seem

To scorch the snowy veil that covers her.

The cry goes up, "' Unveil, fair Synariss ! "

But she ne'er moves. The clamorous crowd pour forth

Their wild appeals. Yet all unheeding still

She stands unmoved before them like a Fate.

An agony of hope that makes him dumb

Beams in Leone's face. See ! near the form

Of Synariss, in dark, tempestuous wrath,

Her father bends and hisses in her ear,

•" Unveil ! or I will kill thee where thou standst ! "

An instant moie, and all the glittering gems

Of Babylon are raining at her feet.

The scales are heavy with the bullion

From eager hands. An instant more and gems

Priceless are hers ; the richest purchaser

Has seized her in his arms, crying with joy,

•" Fair Synariss ! the Queen of Babylon

Is mine ! all mine ! " Quick as a flash she flings

Her veil aside. Quick from her raven hair

She wrests a glittering poniard. " Take this !

Thou craven cur ! " she cries ; " Take this, and know

Thy gems shall never buy one woman's soul."

"God!" 'tis her father's voice. "Heaven, can it be ?

My foe ! my foe ! avenged ! avenged at last !

O, Synariss ! who hast avenged my wrong,

Forgive me ! see ! I kneel now at thy feet.

Thou dost not speak ? Then weep, that thy hot tears

.May purge my very soul. Before high heaven

1 vow to dedicate my life to thee.

Before these men of Babylon, I swear

No hand shall touch the hand of Synariss

If her own heart be mute. Leone ! speak

To her, she stretches out her hands to llicc,

She calls to thee, Leone ! speak to her ! "

Hushed into awe, the multitude
Fell down in that great market-place— and prayed.

AUG. i, HOO.] AMATEURCLUBASA STEPPING-STONE. 63

The Amateur Club as a Stepping-Stone to

the Stage.

BY B. W. FINDON.

* HE mere mention of the word "amateur" has, as a rule,
much the same effect on the delicate dramatic sensibilities
of the old playgoer that the sharpening of a saw has on his
teeth. He instantly calls to mind — but not to memory
dear — a performance he attended at the pressing request
of some particular friend. He has never forgotten it ; he
never will in this world. His one and only prayer is, that he
may in the next. He remembers, as though 'twere yesterday, how
he sat in silent sorrow watching the mutilation of a favourite play ;
heard his pet speeches spoken by the prompter ; saw his pet scenes
disfigured beyond recognition ; and endured, in short, the agonies of
" La Tosca " in the torture scene, with this difference, that he could
raise no despairing, heartrending cry to save the object of Ins love
from utter destruction and damnation. And after the curtain fell
he congratulated his friend on a good all-round show. It was the
last straw, but it had to be done. Everyone does it. The actors ex-
pect it of you. They feel hurt if you forget it, and very likely half
decide not to ask you to their next performance.

And yet it is this much abused, and oftentimes, I think, wrongly
abused personage — the amateur actor — whose cause I am about to ad-
vocate. Not that I am blind to his faults. On the contrary, I see
them only too plainly, and will deal with them with that frankness,
consideration, and care which a candid and faithful friend usually
bestows on the object of his friendship and esteem.

The typical amateur, in his more unfavourable aspect, is a gentle-
man who commonly combines a profound ignorance of stage craft
with an intense belief in his own histrionic ability. He despises a
coacli, and ignores the stage manager. He would, like Bottom,
undertake to play, without the slightest hesitation, any, or for the
matter of that, all the parts in a piece at a moment's notice. He is
ready to roar you as terribly as the lion, as gently as a sucking dove,
or as sweetly as a nightingale. Most people have seen him in one
guise or another; and assuredly he, with his overweening vanity and
self-conceit, his incapacity and total ineptitude for dramatic work,
deserves neither sympathy nor encouragement. But there are
amateurs and amateurs. There are those who are painstaking and
earnest, who can bear being told of their faults and honestly strive
to mend them; who study hard to give an intelligent reading of

64 THE THEATRE. [AUG. 1, 1890

their part ; who never shirk rehearsals ; who work well together, and
whose end is accomplished if they succeed in giving a satisfactory
and well-balanced performance. This class is fairly entitled to the
good opinion and support of every true lover of the drama, and of
every playgoer.

Why should the amateurs be treated and spoken of with con-
tempt ? If, as it has been said, " imitation is the truest form of
flattery," the professional certainly ought not to despise them; he
ought rather to admire them. It may be, however, that the pro-
fessional actor dislikes flattery ; and it may be, on the other hand, his
feelings are of a less lofty nature, and he is jealous of their
well-meant and oftentimes creditable efforts. The regular patrons
of the drama should not ^despise them because they are both
worshippers at the same shrine, the only difference being that the one
has more enthusiasm and tries to put in practice what the other only
talks about.

It cannot, I venture to say, be denied that among the amateurs
there are to be found men who possess the true dramatic instinct,
and who only want practice and experience to prove themselves
superior to three-fourths of the modern so-called actors. They have,
in. many cases, the opportunity of obtaining the necessary practice,
and that they do not always make the most of their opportunities is
much to be regretted. There is no reason why the amateurs should
not be as capable as the professionals. If we turn to some of our
national sports we find they excel in them, and if the actor would but
give to the study of his favourite purs ait the time, patience, and per-
severance which the cricketer, oarsman, or athlete gives to his, we
should see an equally favourable result.

Then, again, consider the unfair treatment they so frequently ex-
perience at the hands of some of the professional critics, unless they
happen to be titled nonentities, with a part in the Guards' Burlesque,
in which case all the flowery adjectives in the English language
are barely equal to the occasion. The critics, at regular first nights,
judging by their notices, seldom or never hear the voice of the
prompter, although heard plainly enough by the back row in the
gallery, and hitches and waits they submit to with angelic sweetness;
but, let the same thing happen at an amateur performance, and then
read their scathing criticisms ! No extenuating circumstances are
taken into consideration, although the amateurs' performances are all
first nights. In short, their praise is oftentimes as false and insincere
towards the one, as their strictures are excessive and severe on the
other.

The amateurs, it should not be forgotten, render great service to
the stage. Not only are they ardent supporters of it themselves, but
they also create a love for it among many who otherwise would pro-
bably never see a theatrical performance. There are thousands who,
under the cloak of charity, have made their first practical acquaint-
ance with stage plays at some amateur entertainment. They have,
somewhat to their surprise, found the devil is not so black as he is

AUG. 1, 1890.] AMATEUR CLUB AS A STEPPING-STONE. 65

painted, and in time they are led to pay a visit to a high-class theatre,
to witness a high-class production — " The Dead Heart," at the Lyceum,
for instance ! Later on you may find them chuckling over a farcical
comedy — adapted from the French. By-and-bye, their tastes become
more catholic, and they are tempted to enter the glittering portals of
the Gaiety ; to gaze with sparkling eyes upon the " sacred lamp of
burlesque," to watch, in ecstatic pleasure, the bewitching evolutions
of the vestal virgins who so gracefully pirouette upon the altar of
that Terpsichorean Temple. Small beginnings have sometimes
great ends.

But there is another and more important means by which the
amateurs can be of service to both playgoers and play-actors. Mr.
Irving has said " that he does not know where the actors of the
future are to learn their business ; that he is utterly at a loss to
know how anyone who desires to bacome an actor can get the
necessary training." These words, coming from such an authority,
are surely sufficiently gloomy and depressing ; for, to those who take
more than a passing interest in the drama, and whose dearest wish
it is to see on the stage artists capable of adequately and faithfully
representing the creations of our great dramatists, the education and
training of our young actors and actresses is a subject of paramount
importance.

Perhaps I may be excused if I digress a little, and, leaving the
amateurs, dwell for a few moments upon a state of affairs which so
dismays and disheartens our leading tragedian ; and after a brief and,
I trust, discrimating description of the disease, I will state what I
consider to be a practical remedy.

The actor of to-day starts his professional career under conditions
totally different to the actor of a generation ago, and naturally we
ask ourselves whether these altered conditions are favourable or
otherwise. The answer must, without doubt, be in the negative.
One has only to see our modern young man actor in a classical play
to be convinced of the truth of this assertion. True, we have some
good — I may even say great — actors and actresses ; but how many
rungs down the artistic ladder have we to descend ere we reach the
level of what may be called our second rank. The explanation of
this is neither difficult nor far to seek. Those who now are at the
head of their profession have won their position by diut of hard
work, incessant study, years of patient toil, and in the face of
difficulties and trials, the bare suggestion of which would be
sufficient to dishearten and dismay the majority of the ladies and
gentlemen who now honour the public by occasionally appearing
before them, and who rank luxurious clubs and fashionable " at
homes " among the necessaries of life.

As a member of one of the old stock companies, the young
aspirant for histrionic honours had to adapt himself to every con-
ceivable class of character. He had, comparatively speaking, little
or no spare time, for there was always a rehearsal to attend, or a new
part to study, and, in short, to use a sporting phrase, he was " always

00 THE THEATRE. [ALM. i, 1890.

in training." But how does our modern young man actor pass his
time ? He rises late ; saunters down to his club, and devotes the most
precious moments of his life to the consumption of mild cigarettes
and seltzers and whiskies. He sneers at the ideal, and scoffs at honest
toil. Lazy and listless, aimless and purposeless, he is tossed from
wave to wave on the ocean of life like a water-logged vessel in mid-
Atlantic, and, like the useless derelict, the sooner he sinks to the
bottom the better for the stage and all connected with it.

To a young actor desirous of attaining proficiency in his art the
matinee S3Tstem offers golden opportunities ; but it does not appear to
strike him that it may be made a valuable means of education. Should
he have a matinee engagement, he pockets his fee with an assumed
air of indifference, and plays his part with an indifference that is not
assumed. It has, to him, no artistic value whatever, for unfortunately
he lacks the true artistic spirit. The painter, musician, and singer
spend years in endeavouring to acquire a perfect knowledge of their
art ere they venture to appear in public ; but our young actor prefers
to learn his at the playgoers' expense, and like an ignorant and un-
skilful dentist, he tortures and maddens his helpless victims.

That these assertions are founded on fact is proved by the doleful
utterances we occasionally hear from a few of the more earnest
among them. There are those who clamour for a State-aided school ;
there arc others who say we must revert to the stock company
system. But one would as surely fail in an artistic sense as
the other would in a commercial. Provincial stock companies are
things of the past, and cannot be revived. A State-aided school
would quickly become fossilized, and produce nothing but dramatic
dummies. Whatever is done must be done by the actors themselves,
and it must be both self-contained and self-supporting. A step in the
right direction was tak«n a few years ago when the Dramatic Students'
Society was formed ; but that collapsed through sheer inanition and
bad management.

What, then, can be suggested that shall not only take the place of
the old provincial training* and remedy the evils of long runs, but
shall also combine efficiency with independence. For our answer
we need not look far. The means lie ready to hand only awaiting
development. The future School of Dramatic Art is the amateur
dramatic club. Possibly the young gentleman who has been six
months in the profession will smile with disdain at the bare sugges-
tion of associating with amateurs ; but if he will, for a few moments,
put aside his pride and superciliousness ; substitute for it a little
common sense ; thoughtfully consider the following brief sug-
gestions, he may probably come to the conclusion that the scheme —
the outlines of which I will now give — is neither utterly ridiculous
nor altogether beneath his notice : —

(1) The formation of a Grand Central Club, to which all amateur clubs shall
have the right to be affiliated on payment of an annual subscription.

(2) A council to be elected annually, to which each amateur club in union
with the Central Club shall send a duly appointed delegate.

(3) Managers of London theatres to be ey-officio members of the council.

AUG. l, 1890. j AMATEUR CLUB ASA STEPPING-STONE. 67

(4) Representatives from the council to attend performances of affiliated
clubs to judge of the talents and qualifications of their members and to report
thereon.

(5) The formation of elocutionary, fencing and other classes under competent
instructors.

(G) Four performances to be given annually at a West-end theatre, under the
direction of an experienced stage manager.

The scheme, however, to succeed, must be initiated by pro-
fessionals. It is for them to seek the co-operation of the amateurs.
tThey need not fear the result. The leading clubs would, without
doubt, give a generous and hearty response to their invitation, and
the problem of how we shall train our actors of the future would
soon receive a practical solution. The many advantages of such a
club must be obvious to all. Anyone desirous of entering the pro-
fession would, in the first place, become a member of an amateur
club ; then, if he has talent, he will, in time, attract the attention of
the central council ; this will be followed by an invitation to appear
in one of the big shows, which, in its turn, will in all probability
lead to an engagement by a manager who has witnessed his efforts.
If, on the contrary, the would-be actor has no qualifications for the-
stage, he would never get beyond the amateur ranks; the profession
would be spared an incompetent member, and he, probably, a life of
disappointment and despair. Thus the wheat would be separated
from the chaff.

Again, in these days of long runs, the Club would offer to an actor-
engaged in some small part in a successful piece, opportunities for
showing he was worthy of something better, of something worth the
doing ; and it would also counteract, in a measure, the deadening
mental effect which a long run, like six months on the tread-
mill, must inevitably produce. Among the amateurs he would find
men who devote themselves to the drama simply because they love-
it. Their enthusiasm and zeal would excite and stimulate his ambi-
tion, arouse his energies, and inspire him with a determination to
excel and surpass his non-professional associates, and by this friendly
rivalry, not only the actor, but also the public and the drama would
benefit considerably.

But the club must, above all things, have the active support
of the theatrical manager. It must be clearly and distinctly under-
stood that he will regard it as his recruiting ground, and that it shall
be to the stage what our great military schools are to the army.
Immediately the young aspirant for histrionic honours realises this,
and that it is a safe, sure, and inexpensive means of attaining the
object of his ambition, he will eagerly avail himself of the advantages
it offers. We shall then hear no more of State-aided schools, for a.
sound, healthy, and independent system will exist, whereby the actor
of the future can be trained and educated ; a system which will enable
him to honourably enter a noble profession, instead of creeping in
by stealth at the back door.

68 THE THEATRE. [Ac:., i, 1390.

<My Luggage."

BY HARRIETT JAY.
Author of" The Queen of Connaught" etc., &c.

WO minutes later and I should have missed the train. In-
deed, as it was, it would most certainly have steamed off
without me if I had not been particularly nimble upon my
feet, for even as I was taking my ticket I heard the guard
blowing his whistle ; I rushed out on to the platform,
clinging on to the man who had possession of my luggage,
and imagining in some vague sort of way that my appear-
ance would cause the train to wait. Whether or not it had that effect
I do not know ; I was only conscious of being seized and hurried
along the platform, of being thrust into a carriage, and of having my
luggage thrust in after me, of hearing the door shut with a bang, and
of listening again to the shrill whistle of the guard as the train began
to glide slowly out of the station.

For a minute or so I sat perfectly still upon the seat on which I
had fallen, utterly unable to speak or look or move ; the window
near which I sat was open, a refreshing breeze blew upon my face,
and by degrees it revived me. The loud thumping of my heart
ceased, the spinning and whirling which had been going on in
my head passed away, and I looked around me to ascertain if I
was alone.

I was not alone. My sole companion, a gentleman, sat in a remote
corner of the carriage, his legs stretched out and crossed, his head
and face completely hidden by a newspaper, in which he was
apparently so engrossed as to be quite unaware of my existence. My
gaze rested upon him for a moment only, then it wandered to my
luggage, which had been thrust so unceremoniously into the carriage
after me, as the train had steamed away. There it was, scattered
about everywhere, on the seats, and on the floor ; rugs and umbrellas,
travelling bags, and even a moderately-sized portmanteau, which, in
the ordinary course of things, would have been placed in- the luggage
van, but which, in answer to my cry, the dazed porter had shot into
the compartment with the rest. It was certainly a goodly array, and
it seemed to be incommoding my fellow passenger, who now shrank
into a corner and put his feet on the opposite seat in order to avoid
treading on it, so I commenced at once to move some of it out of his
way. This I did very quietly in order to avoid disturbing him, but
my caution was quite unnecessary, for during the whole of the
time that I was so occupied, he never once moved, nor did he show

AUG. 1,1890.] "MYLU&&AGE." 69

his face. When I had finished I settled myself in a corner as remote
from him as possible, and took from my bag a novel, which I began
to read. I was to descend at the next station, but as an hour must
elapse before that next station could be reached, I arranged myself
comfortably. I wrapped a great skin rug about my feet, and, resting
my head comfortably on the cushions of the carriage, prepared- to
enjoy my book.

I had been reading for some little time when suddenly something
compelled me to look up, and I turned my eyes to the place occupied
by my companion. He had dropped his paper, and was now stead-
fastly regarding me. He was a middle-aged man, and tolerably hand-
some. He was tall, square-shouldered, broad-chested, with powerful
arms and legs ; his eyes were dark, his skin an olive brown, and his
hair iron grey.

We regarded each other for a minute or so in silence, then, seeing
that he made no attempt to speak, I looked at my portmanteau, which
was lying on its side quite near to his feet, and remarked that I hoped
it did not incommode him.

" Not in the least," he replied, never once taking his eyes from
my face.

His steady and fixed gaze abashed me. I moved uneasily on my
seat, turned half round, and instead of returning to the perusal of my
book, I looked out of the carriage window, letting my eyes wander
carelessly over the fields, hedges, and ditches, which seemed to be
shooting rapidly past, but all the time I felt that the eyes of my
companion were fixed upon me.

At last they forced me to turn round and look at him again. This
time it was he who spoke.

"You nearly missed the train," he said. I assented, and was
turning again towards the window, when he continued :

" Tell me, how did it happen ? "

" How did what happen ? " I asked, facing him again.

" How did this happen ? " he said. "Why didn't you start in time ? "

" I did start in time," I replied, " but our cab collided with a van
and was disabled ; we were compelled to get another. All this took
up some time, and nearly caused us to miss the train."

" Us ? " queried my mysterious companion. " You are alone ! "

" I hope not," I replied. " My maid was with me on the platform,
and I trust she is in the train somewhere ; but really it was such a
scramble to get in that I should not be the least surprised if "

I stopped very suddenly, for my companion had evidently had
enough of my explanation, and had returned, without the slightest
ceremony, to the study of his paper. " An ill-bred boor," I remarked
inwardly. " I will not open my lips to him again."

For some time there was silence. I read until my eyes ached, then
I looked at the landscape, then I rested my head on the cushions and
closed my eyes. I was fast falling into a slight dose when I was
rudely awakened.

The train, the speed of which had been momentarily increasing,

70 THE THEATRE. [AUG. i, 1890.

was going along at express pace, and the carriage in which I sat
rocked like a ship at sea. My companion, who had deserted his
corner, was busily employed in examining my luggage, in scrutinizing
my portmanteau, and feeling the weight of my various bags, a pro-
ceeding which astonished me not a little. Utterly at a loss what to
say, I sat and silently watched his movements.
Presently he turned to me.

" Do you notice how the carriage is rocking ? " he said, raising his
voice so as to make himself heard, and holding 011 to the rack in
order to prevent himself from being unceremoniously shot into
my lap.

I replied that I did notice it, but that it was easily accounted for,
as we wore travelling at a great speed.

" It's not that at all," he replied. " It's the impedimenta."
" The impedimenta ? "

" Yes, your luggage ! " he replied in a still shriller tone. " There
is too much of it ; the carriage is over- weighted, and will very likely
run off the line ! "

I looked at my companion more carefully now, to discover, if
possible, whether he was given to practical joking. The expression
of his face was perfectly serious, but I observed now for the first
time that there was an odd look in his eyes. What was it ? I had
never seen a look like it in any eyes before. I was still looking at
him, still wondering in what spirit I should reply to his curious
remark, when he spoke again.

"The luggage is much too heavy," he said in an injured tone.
" It will cause an accident."
This was going a little too far.

"Excuse me, sir," I said stiffly, "but I think you are talking
nonsense."

With this I turned away again as if to close the conversation, but
my companion was not to be so easily put down. Finding that talking
was of no avail, he resorted to action. He let down the window
nearest to him, lifted my dressing bag from the rack, and deliberately
threw it out on to the line.

This proceeding so astonished me that for a moment I could
neither move nor speak. Then I saw him make for my Gladstone
bag. In a moment I was up, and had laid a detaining hand upon
his arm.

" What are you doing ? " I cried.

But in a moment, and without a word, he had shaken me off, and
had seized my luckless bag. I flew to the window and shut it, then,
placing my back against the door of the carriage, I faced him, and
angrily repeated my question.

" What am I doing ? " replied he in a perfectly unruffled tone. " I
am going to throw out this bag."

" You are going to do nothing of the kind," I replied, hotly. " I
object to having my property disposed of in this way. If your
motive is to rob me, all I can say is that you go about your work in.

AUG. i, 1890. j " MY LUGGAGE:' n

a, very clumsy fashion. Pat down my bag, if you please, or I will
pull the check string, have the train stopped, and give you into the
custody of the guard."

" 0, you will, will you ? "

" Yes, sir, I will. I suppose you think, since we are alone, I ain
defenceless and bound to submit to any indignity you may put upon
me, but let me tell you, sir, that though I am only a woman, I can
defend myself ! "

I spoke very bravely, but I was gradually growing hysterical ; in-
deed, at the moment, I would gladly have given the half of all my
worldly possessions to have found myself standing in safety on
mother earth. I still stood blocking the window, and I kept my
eyes fixed upon my companion, expecting to see him produce some
deadly weapon. All he did, however, was to stand grasping my bag,
and request me, in the most polite manner possible, to move aside in
order that he might have the pleasure of casting it out.

This I refused to do, whereupon he calmly walked to the opposita
window and let it down. Before he could cast out the bag, however,
I had seized his arm.

"Are you intoxicated," I cried, "or mad ?"

Scarcely had the words passed my lips when the bag was cast upon
the floor of the carriage, and I felt the grip of a tiger upon both my
arms. The face of the man, which was now close to mine, had sud-
danly become livid ; the eyes, which had grown wild and bloodshot,
glared into mine as he hissed at me.

" Mad ? Yes, they all say I'm mad, and now you echo it. They
have tried to kill me, and now you are trying to kill me by overloading
the carriage. But I will cast all the things out ; nothing shall
remain, for I don't mean to be sacrificed."

So saying he released me, and seizing up my bag, cast it out upon
the line without my being able to put out a hand to save it.

I don't think I am a coward, but the situation was one calculated
to appal a braver woman than me. For a moment I felt as if my senses
were deserting me, then by an effort I pulled myself together and
set about thinking what I must do. I was afraid to look at my watch,
but I calculated that it would be fully half-an-hour before my desti-
nation was reached. Should I pull the check string and stop the
train ? No ; that was now an impossibility. My companion, having
recovered his composure, had quietly returned to his corner, but I
•could see that he was watching me as a cat watches a mouse, and any
attempt on my part to summon assistance, would, I felt sure, be dan-
gerous. The only course open to me was to exhibit a composure
•equal to that of my companion, to fall in with his eccentricities, in
fact, to ward off any further paroxysms of madness until our desti-
nation should be reached.

Having arrived at this conclusion, I quietly sat down to await the
course of events. The train having slackened its speed, was now
running along smoothly enough. My companion, who had now the
appearance of being the most amiable, the most sane of men, had

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI B

72 THE THE A TEE. [AUG. i, 1890.

re-settled himself in his corner, returned to his paper, and was deeply
engrossed in the news.

I opened my book again, but not one word could I read, for my
eyes, instead of remaining fixed upon the letterpress, wandered rest-
lessly over the landscape ; then I took cursory glances at my com-
panion's face. I found myself counting the minutes as they dragged
wearily along, looking despairingly at the stations as we shot rapidly
through them, and praying devoutly that my destination might soon
be reached.

Had the train continued, as it then was, to go along smoothly and
evenly, I doubt not but I should have reached my destination without
further unpleasantness, for now that the rocking of the carriage had
ceased, the mind of my companion seemed to be quite at rest. Un-
fortunately, however, we shot rapidly round a curve, the carriage
was violently shaken, my companion dropped his paper, I dropped
my book, and we stared at each other. This time he said nothing.

(To be continued.)

Annals of the Bath Stage,

BY WALTER CALVERT.

PART III.
THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY — 1700-1750.

,N the opening of this century, Bath could not boast of any
place of amusement, not even a ball-room. The Duke of
Beaufort, however, became the patron of the city, and was
looked upon as the first Master of the Ceremonies, in collect-
ing the company together in a temporary booth on the Bowl-
ing Green, and on special occasions in the Town Hall. His
Grace introduced a Captain Webster to preside over the assemblies ;
but gaming became so much the rage among all ranks that it took
the lead over every other species of amusement. Public attention
was, no doubt, called to the city by the production of a
play at Drury Lane in 1701, entitled, " The Bath ; or, The Western

AUG. i, 1890.] ANNALS OF THE BATH STAGE.

Lass," written by D'Urfrey. The comedy itself was of no
value. It justified Dryden's remark to a friend some years before,
who had said, "Mr. D'Urfrey cannot write a worse piece." "If you
knew my friend Tom as I do, you would know that he'll write many
a worse piece." The first scene of the play is said to be in the
Kind's Bath — that is, in a room adjoining to the Bath. The Sergeant
of the Bath complains to Col. Hairbrain. The Colonel replies, " His
bathing naked is very nauseous, 'tis true, but then he has guides for
his example." To explain this, John Wood, the elder, tells us that
at that period there were " sergeants to preside over the bath, who
bear the rank of gentlemen," cloth-women, and bath guides, the
rewards being honorary. The former attended and assisted the
bathers ; the latter supplying linen and accompanying them into
the hot waters.

BEAU NASH.

According to the play-bills of Old Drury, we find in the season of

1703, as Queen Anne was at Bath,
the company of that theatre per-
forming in the western city until
October. Her Majesty's sojourn
naturally drew with it an influx of
those persons who cannot exist
without the excitement of the metro-
polis, and it is from this point the
celebrity of fashionable Bath takes
its start. At this juncture, the
afterwards celebrated Richard Nash
first visited the city, and was ap-
pointed successor to Captain Web-
ster (who was killed in a duel in
1701) as M.C., an office for which he
was admirably qualified by an
elegant taste and uncommon vi-
vacity.*

BEAU XASH.

From a painting by T. Hudson, 1740.

* Douglas Jerrold, in his three-act comedy entitled i( Beau Nash " (produced at the
Haymarket Theatre in 1834) graphically describes the old Beau's character in the
following dialogue, taken from the opening scene of the first act : —

WILTON : Is King Nash really the magnifico that rumour trumpets him 1

DERBY : He is in Bath the despot of the mode ; the Nero of the realm of skirts ;
the Tiberius of a silk stocking.

WIL. : And what may be his kingship's origin and history ?

DEE. : Tis said his father was a blower of glass ; and they who best know Nash
see in the son confirmation of the legend. TTis certain our monarch started in life
in a red coat ; changed it for a templar's suit of black ; played and elbowed his way
up the backstairs of lashion ; came to our city — championed the virtue of the wells
against the malice of a physician ; drove the doctor from his post ; founded the
pump-room and assembly-house ; mounted the throne of etiquette ; put on her crown
of peacock -plumes ; and here he sits, Richard Nash, by the grace of impudence,
King of Bath !

WlL. : And what is the creature's character ?

DER. : 'Tis made up of equal patches of black and white ; a moral chess-board ;
the moves once known, readily played upon.

74 THE THEATRE. [AUG. i, 1890.

THE FIRST BATH THEATRE.

The heroes of the Sock and Buskin soon became a permanent body,
and performed in a playhouse which was built in 1705 on the site
now occupied by the Royal Mineral Water Hospital, at the corner of
Parsonage Lane. It was erected by a Mr. George Trim at a cost of
£1,300, which sum, Wood tells us, was subscribed by persons of the
highest rank, who permitted their coats of arms to be engraven on
the inside of the house as a public testimony of their liberality
towards it. Mainwaring, in his "Annals of Bath," tells us that this play-
house (sic 1730) was " the property of Widow Poore, and under the
management of Hornby, a comedian. But as gaming was the pre-
vailing rage at the time, the theatre met with very indifferent
encouragement, and the performers were hardly able to support
themselves. Lady Hawley afterwards became the purchaser of the
property, but that did not mend the condition of the actors. The
theatre was under her ladyship's ball-room, and the seats were
placed one above the other, until they reached within four feet of
the ceiling ; there was only one box, placed above the door, which
held four persons, and the price of admittance was half-a-crown to
every part of the house. Thirty pounds was the receipt of the
fullest house, and her ladyship was entitled to a third share of the
profits, and one-fourth for the use of the scenes and dresses. The
landing expense was £2 10s. per night, which included music,
attendants, bills, and tallow candles ; the remainder was divided
-among twelve performers." Under these circumstances it is not
.surprising that there is but little to record with regard to the plays
presented on these boards, or the actors that represented the various
characters in them. There are but few chronicles of the companies
that visited Bath at this period. His Grace the Duke of Grafton's
;sprvants were acting in a play entitled, " Love at a Venture," in
1706, at " the new Theatre, Bath," and in the same year
Steele's friend, Dick Escourt, of Beefsteak Club fame, was perform-
ing at this house. Every evening he entertained the audience
with a variety of little catches and nights of humour that
pleased all but his critics. When he impersonated his original
character of Sergeant Kite in the " Recruiting Officer " at the above
theatre, 16th September, the news of the victory gained by the Duke
of Savoy and Prince Eugene reached Bath the same day, so he added
to his song in the second act : —

" The noble Captain Prince Eugene
Has beaten French, Orleans, and Marsin,
And march'd up and relieved Turin

Over the hills and far away."

It is recorded that several persons of quality were present on this
occasion. It was at this theatre that Garrick's first manager, Henry
Giffard, made his first appearance in public in 171'.), and here also
that William Mynitt, according to Chetwood, " was solicited to add a
promising member to the company of Bath, where there is a regular
theatre and an audience as difficult to b'e pleased as that in London,

AUG. i, 1890.] ANNALS OF THE BATH STAGE. 75

being generally persons of the highest rank that frequent those
diversions in the capital."

The city, however, did not rely solely on the drama and gaming
for its amusement, as Addison describes in an entertaining contribu-
tion to the Spectator (No. 179, Sept. 25th, 1711), a whistling match,
which he, no doubt, witnessed when visiting his friend Tickell, in
1708, during the latter's residence in Bath.

"BATH UNMASKED" AND OTHER PLAYS.

In the spring season of 1725 the comedy of "Bath Unmasked"
was produced at the theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields. It described
Bath as made up of very unprincipled people, with a good lord to
about a score of knaves and hussies. John Hippisley, who origi-
nated the character of Sir Captious Whiffle, took a conspicuous part
in the Bath drama in after years. This play was the first, and not
lucky essay of miserable Gabriel Odingsell, who, nine years later, in
a fit of madness, hanged himself in his house at Westminster.

The same year Defoe visited Bath, and makes the following refer-
ence to the theatre in his " Tour Through Great Britain " : — " In the
afternoon there is generally a play — though the decorations are mean ,
and the performance accordingly — but it answers, for the company (pre-
sumably the audience) here make the play to say no more." A few
years later, however, saw a change. Under Nash's influence the
attractions of the city increased, and the drama, playing a secondary
part to gambling, which took the foremost place in the amusement,
of Bath, soon began to bud.

In the spring season of 1728 Gay produced his most successful
Beggar's Opera at the theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and it was-
received with greater applause than was ever known. This play,
written in ridicule of the Italian Opera, was first offered to Gibber
at Drury Lane, and rejected ; it being then carried to John Rich, had
the effect, as was ludicrously said, of making Gay rich and Rich gay.
Besides being acted in London sixty-three days without interrup-
tion, and renewed the next season with equal applause, it spread to
all the great towns of England, was played in many places to the
thirtieth and fortieth time, and at Bath and Bristol fifty. Gay visited
Bath in 1721 .

At the time of its production in the former city, William Con-
greve was sojourning there for the benefit of the waters. He was
much afflicted with gout, and in making a tour to Bath was unfor-
tunately overturned in his chariot, by which it is supposed he sus-
tained some inward bruise, which ultimately caused his death. §
THE SECOND BATH PLAYHOUSE.

The Act of Parliament inhibiting unlicensed playhouses was
passed in the year 1737, and the Bath Theatre was closed and

§ In 1713 Gay brought a comedy, called " The Wife of Bath," upon the stage, but it
received no applause. He printed it, however, and seventeen years after, having
altered it, and, as he thought, adapted it more to the public taste, he offered it again to
the town ; but although he was flushed with the success of the Beggar's Opera, had
the mortification to see it again rejected. — Johnson's Lives of the Poets.

76 THE THEATRE. [AUG. 1, 1890.

demolished and gave place to the Mineral Water Hospital, the build-
ing of which was commenced in 1738. Dramatic representations
were transferred to a large apartment, fitted up for the purpose,
under the Lower Assembly Rooms on the Terrace Walk (where the
Literary and Scientific Institution now stands), and were con-
ducted by one Mr. Simpson. Here Beau Nash presided, and the
eccentric Mrs. Charke, disguised as a man and known as Mr. Brown,
acted, according to her biography,f for some time as prompter.
Performances were also given in a theatre in Kingsmead Street,
which, in the playbills of that time, was termed " The New Theatre."
As a matter of fact, it was nothing more than a room about twenty-
five feet wide and fifty feet long, with a gallery at the end, opposite
the stage. It was probably built about the year 1723. Notwith-
standing the stricture of the law, the former of these houses,
patronised by the poet Pope, continued unmolested for ten years
after that period, though it had not received the sanction of the
legislature.

QUEST'S RETIREMENT.

About this time James Quin was the greatest actor on the London
stage, and continued to be so until David Garrick burst upon the
town. Then began the battle between the old school and the new
which ultimately terminated in the defeat of the former.
But the old actor came well out of the fray, for in one year Rich
paid him £1,000, the largest sum which had, until then, ever been
given to any performer. The theatres at Bath could not have been
in a very flourishing condition during the excitement in town, for
we read of performances being held at the public inns in opposition
to them. However, at the end of the year 1748 Quin took umbrage
at Rich's behaviour, and retired in a fit of spleen and resentment to
Bath, in disgust at Garrick's success, notwithstanding his being
under engagements to that manager. Though Rich ought to have
known that Quin never put up with any insult, and though he too
late repented of what he had done, yet he thought by treating him
with silent contempt, to make him submit to his own terms. On
the other hand, Quin, whose generous heart began now to relent,
having used his old acquaintance so cavalierly, resolved to sacrifice
his resentment to his friendship, and wrote early the next season,
hoping for a recall, a laconic epistle to Rich in these words —
" I am at Bath.— QUIN."

Rich thought this by no means a sufficient apology for his
behaviour, and returned an answer, in almost as laconic though not
quite so civil a manner —

"Stay there and be damned. — Rtcu."

This reply was the cause of Quin quitting the stage, for as he and
Garrick did not agree well together whilst they continued rival
actors, he could not brook submitting to his competitor in dramatic

t See "Queen of Trumps" (with portrait), THE THEATRE, July and August, 1880.

AUG. 1, 1890.] ANNALS OF THE BATH STAGE.

fame ; and as he now took a firm resolution of never engaging again
with so insolent a blockhead, as he stj^led Rich for this answer, there
was no theatrical door open for him, without he had turned opera
singer.

Having thus been vanquished after arriving at the summit of his
profession, he prudently retired from the stage, and settled at Bath,|
remarking that he did not know a better place for an old cock to

MfQuiN.

roost in. Here, if he did not add to his reputation as an actor, he
avoided diminishing it as such, and never sullied it as a man. Being

|| Quin occasionally went to London to perform at special benefits. We find him
playing the part of Othello at Covent Garden Theatre in 1749 for the benefit of
the unhappy sufferers by the fire in Cornhill, which happened on the 26th March,
1748 ; but his last appearance as a regular actor was on the 20th of May, 1751, as
Horatio in " The Fair Penitent." From his retirement to 1733 he annually went to
town to play Sir John Falstaff , for the benefit of his old friend and companion, Lacy
Ryan. On the last occasion the gentry and nobility of Bath gave him one hundred
guineas, and desired him to send them down tickets to that amount. In the succeed-
ing year (1754) Ryan again requested him to repeat the performance. The veteran
actor, having lost two of his front teeth, was compelled to decline the task, and
wrote the following comic epistle upon the occasion : — " My dear Friend, — There is
no person on earth whom I would sooner serve than Ryan ; but, by God, I will
whistle Falstaff for no man. I have willed you a thousand poiflids. If you want
money you may have it at once and save my executors trouble. — JAMES QUIN."

78 THE THEATRE. [AUG. 1, 1890.

ironically complimented by a nobleman upon his happy retreat,.
Quin replied, " Look ye, my lord, perhaps 'tis a sinecure your
lordship would not accept of, but I can assure you I gave up £1,400
a year for it."

When he first settled in Bath he was charged exorbitantly for
everything, and at the end of the week complained to Beau Nash,,
who had invited him thither as the cheapest place in England for a
man of taste and a bon-viuant. Beau Nash replied, "They have
acted by you on truly Christian principles." " How so ? " said Quin.
"Why," resumed Nash, "you were a stranger, and they took you in.'"
"Aye," rejoined Quin, "but they have fleeced me instead of clothing;
me."

It is alleged that, as Nash grew old, Quin wrote a letter to a certain
nobleman in which he expressed a wish to supplant the old Beau as.
M.C., a subject to which the author of Blaydon's " Life of Quin '*
devotes a whole chapter.

(To be continued.)

©ur

"ART AND LOVE."

Comedy, in one act, by A. W. DUBOUKG.
First produced at the Avenue Theatre, Tuesday afternoon, June 24th, 1890.

Harry Mr. SIDNEY H. BASING. | Mr. Jackson Mr. ARTHUR STIRLING

Lucy Miss WALLIS. j Servant Mr. H. A. SAIXTSBUHY. *

The exception almost proves the rule that once a woman has tasted
of the fruits or even the bitters of the stage, though circumstances-
may compel her to leave it, she always looks back upon her desertion
of the mimic art with regret, and finds it difficult to settle down in
the new life she has chosen ; even marriage makes no difference in
this. This is the theme Mr. Dubourg has chosen in "Art and Love,"
which he calls "a sketch of artist life," and for which he takes as a
motto a line written by Pauline Viardot, Je suisfemme,etjesuis artiste.
Lucy appears much attached to her husband, a man in comfortable
circumstances, her only unhappinessbeingthatherformercalling as an
actress is a tabooed subject with him and his family, and that she
must not recognize any of her old friends who were kind to her when
she was a struggling girl. Among these is Mr. Jackson, an old actor,
who by his care and teaching made of her a talented artist. Meeting
her by accident, the old man promptly upbraids her with her coldness
and neglect ; she explains away her apparent ingratitude. A sudden

AUG. 1,1890.J

OUR PL AY -BOX.

reverse of fortune comes to her husband, and she is able by the ex-
ercise of her talent, not only to support him, but his parents, who-
had scarcely forgiven their son's union with a " mummer." Mr.
Dubourg treated us to some of those high-flown sentiments and-
grandiloquent words which are more frequently heard on the stage-
than off, but Miss Wallis made them almost acceptable by the
womanly charm she threw into them. Mr. Arthur Stirling was fitly
a comedian of the old school, and Mr. Herberte-Basing did a good
deal with a thankless part. Miss Wallis received an enthusiastic.
call. On the same afternoon was produced for the first time

"PUNCHINELLO."

A new one act play, by DR. DABRS.

Oliver Retherdon
Lord Reverie

Mr. W. H. VERNON.
Mr. BAS.SKTT ROE.

Roly Reverie
Nina

Mr. WEBSTER.
Miss ROBINS.

In vigorous and smoothly flowing blank verse Dr. Dabbs has told a.
plaintive story. A fair girl, a poor columbine, gives her heart to a
young gallant of the court of Charles II, only to find that he meant
to dishonour her. Nina is consumptive, and she sinks under the dis-
covery, dying in the arms of Oliver Retherton, a clown, who has
secretly loved and watched over her, and done his best to guard her
from all temptation. Miss Robins played most sympathetically as
Nina ; she appeared so pure and trusting a woman, and gently faded
away when her heart was broken. Mr. Vernon, too, was excellent in
the character of a man of high degree, who has donned the motley to,
escape political persecution. Mr. Bassett Roe was earnest and spoke-
his lines admirably, and Mr. Webster's serenade showed him possessed
of much taste and feeling in singing. Dr. Dabbs's play was thoroughly
appreciated.

" NANCY AND COMPANY."

Comedy, in four acts (based upon a German piece), by AUGUSTIN DALY.
Revived at the Lyceum Theatre, Tuesday, June 24th, 1890.

Mr Ebenezer Griffing

Mr. JAMES LEWIS.

Julius

Kiefe O'Kiefe . .
Capt. Paul Renseller,
U.S.A.
Young Mr. Sikes
Stockslow
TIDDV Brasher .

M-. JOHN DREW.
| Mr. EUGENE ORMOND.

| Mr. FREDERICK; BOND.
Mr. BURR MACKINTOSH.

MM. Huldah Danger}
Oriana
Daisy Gritting
Betsy
Nancy Brasher . .

Mr. WILL SAMPSOV.
Mrs. G. H. GILBERT.
Miss EDITH CRANE.
MUa ISABEL IRVING.
MUs KITTY CHEATHAM.
MUs ADA REHAN.

Mr. Daly's version of Julius Rosen's " Halbe Dichter " was first
seen in London at the Strand, July 7, 1886. It was then, as now,,
not considered one of the best pieces in this talented company's
repertoire. For all that, thanks to the way in which they play into-
each other's hands, and the clever drawing of at least two of the
characters, the skit, though thin, is very amusing. Ebenezer-
Griffing is an old gentleman, who, though very partial to a pretty
face (as exemplified by his accepting photographs of the " new girl '*
Betsy, the fascinating help in his household, brilliantly played by
Miss Cheatham), poses as a strict moralist. He is watching over the-
doings of Kiefe O'Kiefe to see whether he is worthy to mate with
Oriana. Judge of old Griffing's confirmation of his own dogma that
"no men reform" when O'Kiefe is carried off by Nancy Brasher to-
her hotel, where she has given herself out as Mrs. O'Kiefe. The-
fact is she has written a play, and O'Kiefe haa collaborated with her,,
and she is seized with a desire to be present at its first perform ince.
Naturally she should go under the protection of her good-naturedt

THE THEATRE.

[Airo. 1, 1890.

husband Tippy (very naturally played by Mr. Burr Mackintosh), but
she has told him nothing of her writing and insists that O'Kiefe shall
keep the secret until after the opening representation, when, if a
success, he may tell all. Complications of every sort arise, which
are cleared away by the fortunate reception of the joint work. Miss
Ada Rehan, who had been the life and soul throughout, when the
announcement came gave us one of those exquisite touches that so
mark her capabilities. The success assured, it flashes upon Nancy
how badly she has behaved to her devoted; honest, and blundering
husband, and the agony she must have caused his loving heart when
he thought she had run away from him, and her burst of grief and
self-condemnation was so heartfelt as to deeply touch her audience.
Mr. James Lewis, Mr. John Drew, and Mrs. Gilbert were excellent in
their original parts. Mr. Frederick Bond was very amusing as the
" dude " Stockslow, with an inane chuckle. Two new recruits (at
least as far as their appearance in London is concerned) were Miss
Edith Crane and Miss Isabel Irving, both very pretty and engaging
actresses. " Nancy and Co." had a fortnight's run out of the short
period the Daly Company is to be with ITS.

"YOUR WIFE."

Farcical comply, In three acts, a lap to 1 from the French by JUSTIN HUXTLY McC.VRTnv.
First produced at the St. James's Theatre, Thursday, June 26th, 1890.

Jack Daryl .. ..... Mr. A. BOURCHIER.

Tom Verity Mr. ERNEST LAWFORD.

AppletonCrabbe.. .. Mr. EVERILL.

Arralnius Pappenberg Mr. H. DK LAXGE.

Amy
Lucy
Josephine

Miss EDITH CHK>TKR.
Miss AXXIE IKISH
Miss A. DAIROLLES.

If not the actual play of " Prete Moi tu Femme," by Maurice Des-
vallieres, the idea has been often used for production in English,
sometimes for better sometimes for worse. Mr. Justin McCarthy
was only able to accomplish the latter, for he exhausted himself in
the first act, and gave us nothing fresh or particularly enlivening in
the last two. We have only the old story of a scapegrace, Jack
Daryl, who, in order that he may obtain the necessary supplies from
a suspicious uncle, Appleton Crabbe, passes himself off, by letter, as
a husband and father. Uncle Crabbe, unexpectedly returning from
Africa with the reputation of an explorer (cheaply earned, by-the-
way, for he is a bit of a humbug), insists on seeing Mrs. Daryl and
her offspring. In his dilemma, Jack borrows Amy, the wife of his
friend Tom Verity, who, rather simple and very good-natured, lends
himself to the deception until his sluggish temperament is roused to
jealousy by the attentions which, as every married man should do,
Jack pays to Amy. Jack, being really but secretly engaged to Lucy,
Crabbe's daughter, the old gentleman is much scandalised by
noticing that their heads are often a great deal too close together.
Josephine, Mrs. Verity's bonne, who has charge of the suppositions
baby, finds in Arminius Pappenberg (Mr. H. de Lange) a former
lover, who had deserted her, and who is also supposed to be a second
Stanley, equally without foundation. These two did all that was
possible to redeem the shortcomings of the play itself, and were
very successful. Mr. Arthur Bourchier will improve, no doub% but
to my mind he did not shine in what may be called a "Wyndham"
part. Miss Chester and Miss Irish were neither o€ them light
enough. Mr. Everill was thoroughly amusing, and Mr. Ernest
Lawford was not only droll, but humorous ; a little more experience,

AUG. 1, 1890. OUR PLAY-BOX. 81

and he will do great things in this line. " Your Wife " was pre-
ceded on the same evening by

"OLD FRIENDS."

Play, in one act, by Lady VIOLET GREVILLK.

Dick Fitzroy .. .. Mr. L. CACTLEY. | Alice Miss ANNIE IRISH.

Captain Mowbray, R.N. Mr. G. FARQUHAR. | Dolly Miss MARIE ILLINGTON.

In one sense Lady Greville's very pretty, but rather sad, play
reminds one of " Barbara " and other productions in which an elder
sister sacrifices herself to secure the happiness of a younger. For
ten long years Alice has waited for Dick Fitzroy. When he returns
he sees in Dolly the reproduction of the picture of the love he has
carried in his breast, whilst the original has from waiting and
anxiety somewhat faded. She is the sweeter and the better woman,
but with love's blindness he does not see this, and so transfers his
affections, and his suit is accepted by the madcap Dolljr, and cer-
tainly too easily by the peppery father (Captain Mowbray). All
the characters were excellently played, and materially helped to
secure the call awarded to the authoress. Mr. Arthur Bourchier,
who commenced his managerial career with these two plays, has
certainly engaged a good company, but the question arises whether
he has utilised their talents to the best advantage in his first pi^ce.

" GYRENE."

" Dramatic Fancy," In three acts, by ALFRED C. CALMOUR.
First produced at the Avenue Theatre, Friday afternoon, June 27th, 1890.

Fantea Mr. HENRY NEVILLE.

Moretus Mr. ARTHUR STIRLING.

Brancho Mr. EDMUND GUHNEY.

Zembra Mr. JOHN CARTER.

Drega Mr. P. J. KIRWAN.

Cyrene Miss MARION TERRY.

Ciprissa Miss LILIAN KINGSTON.

Nina . . . Miss CLARA JECKS.

f, t ,, ( Mr. F. HAMILTON

611 I KNIGHT.

Mr. Calmour has certainly enhanced his reputation as a poet and
a dramatist by his latest work. One could not but feel interested in
the development of his story, or refrain from admiring the strength
and beauty of most of his lines. The weakness of the whole lay
principally in the characters of Zembra, Gustrell, and Nina, which
had little or scarce any bearing on the play itself, and to make them
of real consequence they require to be considerably strengthened. Due
credit, however, must be given to Mr. Carter, the alchymist Zembra,
who lauds the potentiality of the gold he worships and to the dis-
covery of which he devotes his life, and to Gustrell his pupil (Mr. F.
Hamilton Knight), who wearied of the fruitless search after wealth,
turns his attention to the more congenial occupation of making love
in a bright and airy way to the equally coquettish Nina (Miss Clara
Jecks). Mr. Calmour, it was understood, wished to portray in
" Cyrene " the conflict between the angels of good and evil that is
ever raging in a man's breast. His heroine has nursed back to moral
and physical health the barbarian prince Fantea ; he has been stricken
with blindness, but longs for a description of the woman he has
learnt to love. She in a sportive mood, draws a picture of her de-
signing foster sister Ciprissa. Moretus the physician restores to
Fantea his sight, and the prince believing Ciprissa to be his love,
weds her, coldly repulsing Cyrene. Learning of the wickedness of
Ciprissa, who has taken Brancho for her paramour, Cyrene allows
herself to be reported dead, and returns in the garb of her brother Sebas-
tian to be near to comfort Fantea. Her gentleness wins him back
again to nobler thoughts, for he has almost relapsed into his former
state of savagery. The anxiety and furious passion have, however,
once more rendered him sightless. His troubles are not increased by

82 THE THEATRE. [Aus. 1, 1890.

this, but lessened, for he will have Cyreiie to guide him in the future,
who reveals herself in her own character when Ciprissa is struck dead
by Branc'io, through revenge for a slight put upon him. The author
was fortunate in securing Miss Marion Terry and Mr. Henry Neville,
the one for her tender womanliness, the other for his impassioned
and true delivery. Mr. Arthur Stirling, too, though a little ponderous,
understood the value of his lines. Mr. Edmund Gurney did good
service as the vengeful gipsy, and that Mr. Kirwan should acquit
himself well was only to be expected, esteemed as he is as an
elocutionist. The surprise of the afternoon, however, was the ren-
dering of the character of Ciprissa by Miss Lilian Kingston, a young
and unknown actress, who took up the part at the very shortest notice
(owing to Miss Vane's illness), and who exhibited a power and
subtlety that were greatly to be admired, and which promised great
things in the future. The incidental music composed by Mr. Crook,
and a dance arranged by Miss Sylvia Grey (the latter encored) were
characteristic and graceful. " Karl's " designs for the dresses were
tastefully carried out by Messrs. Nathan. Mr. Neville announced
in reply to repeated calls that Mr. Calmour was too nervous to appear.

"PAPA'S HONEYMOON."

Comedy, in three acts, by SILVAIN MAYER and W. B. TARPKV.
First produced at the Criterion Theatre, Saturday afternoon, June 28th, 1890.

Benjamin Bush .. .. Mr. W.BLAKELEY.

Annette Miss H. Fous YTH.

Ida Misg ANGELA CfDMORE.

Agnes MiSsELLALINK'fEKHISS.

Lucy M'SSMABKL HAKDINGE.

Arthur Ha>l Mr. GEORGE GIDDKSS.

Joseph Sniffle .. .. Mr. J. T. GKAIIAM.

Walter Eniuen .. .. Mr. L. HBWSON.

Martin Mr. S. VALKNTIXB.

Caroline Miss E. VISING.

Amelia Clutterbuck .. Miss M. A. Viei'OK.

We have, on more than one occassion, seen considerable fun ex-
tracted from the predicament in which an elderly and uxorious widower
is placed, when he marries again and keeps the secret of his second
nuptials from his family. This is what happens to Mr. Benjamin
Bush. He marries Annette, and she insists on the union being kept
secret lest she should jeopardise a certain legacy that may come to
her. She is therefore introduced by her husband as a governess and
companion that he has engaged for his three daughters Ida, 4gnes,
and Lucy. They treat her in a very de-haut-en-bas fashion ; hi&
deceased wife's sister, Amelia Clutterbuck in an even more cavalier
manner. Arthur Hale, a former lover of her's, who fancies that he
is still engaged to her, to keep her in good humour flirts with her,,
clandestinely, for he is afraid that she will betray their connection
which would militate against his success with Ida to whom he is now
engaged. Miss Clutterbuck is much incensed at his attentions to
Annette, but not so much as at the frequent meetings she comes
across between her brother-in-law and the fascinating newcomer.
Played briskly all this would have been very amusing and if done in
one act ; but spun out to[three, it was only a repetition of the same in-
cidents relieved occasionally by the humours of Mr. Joseph Sniffle (a
character that was well played), who is a very simple and unsophis-
ticated gentleman who has come into a little property and therefore
thinks it incumbent on himself to find a wife at once. His desire is
gratified at last by Lucy, who accepts him, Agnes pairing off with
Walter Emden, and the opportune death of Annette's guardian per-
mitting her to announce her marriage. Mr. Blakeley can scarcely
help being funny, and as on him fell the burden of the play, he caused
considerable laughter. - Miss Forsyth and the other young ladies in
the cast had really little more to do than to look pretty; in this they

AUG. 1, 1890.]

OUR PLAY-BOX.

\vere bound to acquit themselves well, and so far as they could
strengthen the characters they did so. Miss Victor played very drolly
one of those gushing ladies of a certain age for which she is so often
cast. Mr. Valentine and Miss Vining did well as a pair of highly
moral servants whose sensibilities are shocked at the goings on of
their elderlj* master. The comedy may be original, but it has a sus-
piciously French flavor, particularly in one incident which might
easily have been left out.

"VERA."

" A Russian Story " (told in four acts), by Mr. ELI-IS SMITH.
First produced at the Globe Theatre, Tuesday afternoon, July 1, 1830.

Mr. EDMUND GURNEY.
Mr. CECIL M. YORK.
Mr. ALFKED B. CROSS.
Mr. ROYDON ERLYNNE.
Mr. J. A. BENTHA.M.
Mr. A. NEWARK.
Mr. F. SHELLEY.
Mr. L. SHELDON.

Aloski ........ Mr. E. D. SHALLARD.

Isadora ........ Miss V. THORNYCROFT.

Madame Petrolsky .. Miss THERESE MAYER.
Narska ...... ' .. Miss EDITH DIXEY.

Messenger Jrom the j

Vera de Saviloff.. . MME. DE NAUCAZE.

r p LARE<

ion of this play caused some little sensation, as it had

Baron Alexis
heon D'Arblay . .
Feodor Shapiroff
General Vladimir
Count Olgoff. . ..
Capt. Burlmitz . .
Petrovitch .. ..
Orloff

The product

been rumoured that it was the work of Mr. Oscar Wylde under a
num-de-plume, though this proved to be but a rumour. Whoever
the author may have been he could not be complimented, for a more
crude, sketchy piece had not been seen for some time. Its greatest
merit was its brevity, for it only played one and three quarter hours.
The author shows us " Russian life " under its most debased aspect.
Vera we can infer to have been a favourite of the Czar, and though the
mother of a grown up sen is still an intriguante. She has deserted
her son Feodor when he was a baby ; he returns to Russia on his at-
taining manhood to assert his claims to his estates. His papers are
stolen by Leon D'Arblay, who endeavours to pass himself off as the
rightful Shapiroff. To further his ends he makes love to Vera, who
accepts his pretended affection and is eventually horrified to find, as
she imagines for a time, that she has permitted the addresses of her
own son, an unpleasant feature in any play, and too much dwelt on
in this. An intriguing minister of police, Baron Alexis, who to
revenge a slight put upon him by Vera, tries to get everybody sent to
Siberia, and some rather good love scenes between Isadora and Feodor
(well played by the representatives) make up a disagreeable story.
Madame de Naucaze should have chosen a better play for her re-
appearance in London; the actress did more than justice to her
character, a repulsive one in itself, and should be capable of great
things, her handsome stage presence fitting her well for many parts .
Mr. Edmund Gurney and Mr. Cecil M. York helped the play to some
•extent.

" FAZIO."

Tragedy, in five acts, by the Rev. HENRY HART MFLMAN.
Revived at the Strand Theatre, Tuesday afternoon, July 1, 1H90.

Duke of Florence
tronsalvo

Aurio

Fazio

Bartoldo . .
Philario .. ..
Falsetto

Mr. JULIAN CROSS.
Mr. T. BLACK LOCK.
Mr. HAROLD EDEN.
Mr. IjKwis WALLER.
Mr. JOHN CARTER.

Mr. A. COURTKNAY.

Mr. O. BARN BUT.

Piero . .
Theodore
Antonio
Bianca ..
Aldabella
Clara .

Mr. 0. MILTON.

Mr. K. GRAN.

Mr. F. JACQUKS.

Miss CLAIRE IVANOWA.

Mrs. BENNETT.

Miss HENRIETTA CROSS.

As it is some thirteen years since Miss Bateman revived Dean
Milman's interesting though sombre tragedy, it is well to
give the full cast. On the occasion mentioned Mr. E. H. Brooke was
the Fazio, Miss Pauncefort Aldabella, Mr. T. Mead Bartoldo, Mr.
Beaumont Duke of Florence, and Mr. Pinero Gonsalvo. Without

84 THE THEATRE. [AUG. l, 1890.

obtaining the author's permission, he having printed and published
the work in 1815, "Fazio " was first produced at the Bath Theatre in
January, 1818. Miss Somerville (Mrs. Bunn) was the heroine, and
Conway Fazio. It was played at the Surrey Theatre, and on
February 5 of the same year Miss O'Neil appeared in it as
Bianca at Covent Garden to Charles Kemble's Fazio and Mrs.
Faucit's Aldabella. Miss Charlotte Cushman made her first appear-
ance in England as Bianca in 1845. The tragedy was revived at
Sadler's Wells in 1847, with Laura Addison as Bianca, and in 1853
with Miss Glynn, and Marston as Fazio. Madame Ristori, one of the
most famous representatives of the hapless wife, appeared at the
Lyceum in 1857. With Miss Wallis Bianca is a very favourite character,
and Miss Anderson also included it in her provincial repertoire. It
is a part that requires very considerable power. Bianca is neglected
by her husband for the proud and vicious Aldabella ; to drag him
from the arms of her rival, Bianca gives him up to justice as the
murderer of Bartoldo. Too late she discovers that she has compassed
his death, and in an agony of love and remorse dies. It is seldom
that an actress with the comparatively little experience possessed by
Miss Claire Ivanowa has come so triumphantly through such an
ordeal as this young lady did. Her London debut promises well,
but though her performance was undoubtedly a great one under
the circumstances, she has much to learn in the control of her
voice, in graduating the expression of her emotions, and also to convey
a reality into her assumed feelings. I shall look forward to her next
appearance with great interest, for with the abilities she possesses,
and great natural advantages Miss Ivanowa should prove a valuable
recruit to the stage. Mrs. Bennett was not the Aldabella that the
author intended ; she was cold in her passion for Fazio, and un-
dignified for her high position, Mr. Lewis Waller will be quoted in the
future as one of the best young actors of his time for his earnest and
correct delivery. Mr. Julian Cross was dignified as the Duke, and
Mr. John Carter good as Bartoldo. Miss Henrietta Cross pleased as
Clara.

"ILLUSION."

Original play, in three acts, by PIERRE LK CLKRCQ.
First produced at the Strand Theatre, Thursday afternoon, July 3rd, 1890.

The Earl of Bramber Mr. L. D'ORSAT. Mr. Atterberry . . . Mr. F. GROVE.

Hon. Fred Slawson . . Mr. FULLER MELLISH.

Count deBuci .. .. Mr. IVAN WATSON.

Mr. Eyres Higginson Mr. G. Foss.

Mr. Lullworth . . . . Mr. W. H. VKRNON.

John Revellin . . . . Mr. IJKWIS WALLKH.

Joseph Revellin.. .. Mr. H. ARNCLIKFK.

Bob..
Page

Madame Blanche Fan

euse— " La Faneuse '

Matilda.. ..

Una Revellin

Mr. C. HAM SKY.

Master BROOKE.

• Miss ROSE LKCLERCQ.

Miss LOUISE GOURLAY.
Mi-- MARION LEA.

There was so much to interest one in Mr. Le Clercq's first play,
"A Love Story," that it -was generally hoped that this, his later
production, would exceed the former in beauty and power. We
were doomed to disappointment, for " Illusion " is infinitely more
artificial, and has only real strength in its last act. We have that
frequent weakness of concealment, whereby a man wrecks his own
life and that of his wife for no adequate motive. We have a
husband, after an absence of only seven days, not being recognised
by his wife, and we go over and over the same ground of a woman
first believing and then distrusting her husband, though she vows
she will not credit anything to his disparagement. Una has eloped
with John Revellin to escape a marriage with Mr. Eyres Higginson,
a rich and elderly suitor, that her father, Mr. Lullworth, a selfish,
brutal scamp, wishes to force upon her. Finding that she has foiled

AUG. 1, 1890.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 85

his designs, and is married, Lullworth revenges himself by plainly
telling his daughter that all the time her husband is pretending
such devotion to her, he is still enthralled by a notorious courtesan,
" La Faneuse," with the result that he separates the Revellins. John
has to sail for America, but induces his brother Joseph to take his
place. A collision occurs, and John is supposed to have been
drowned. He remains in hiding for a week, and then visits his
wife in the character of Joseph, and she actually does not recognise
him, though he assumes no disguise whatever ! Presently he
reveals himself, and she believes his protestations of innocence, and
promises to be patient until he can explain. Her father, however,
is anxious to induce her to obtain a divorce, and presently informs
her that John Revellin is actually at the house of her fancied rival.
Una follows him there, and in the grounds she poses as one of the
statutes, and then overhears the interview between her husband and
La Faneuse. From it she learns that La Faneuse is the wife of
Lullworth, and her own mother, who when she left her home
deserted, her child ; that Revellin has been trying to reform her,
and persuade her to leave the life of infamy she has been leading.
La Faneuse has always retained a love for the memory of Una — has
constantly kept herself informed of her doings, and when she hears
that she is to be married to Revellin, puts herself in communication
with him. In a really exquisite scene she confesses the horrors of
her past misspent existence, and vows to amend it. She parts with
all her wealth, and determines to enter a religious house, and live a
life of expiation. In this scene Miss Rose Leclercq completely
held the house by her pathetic rendering of the shame and remorse
of the repentant woman, and gave a most perfect touch of nature in
lowering the veil before she ventured to kiss the pure lips of her
child, lest her own sullied ones should bring contamination by their
actual touch. Miss Marion Lea was spasmodic and hysterical ; allow-
ances, however, must be made for her nervousness, for she gave the
matinee, and the character was a difficult one, but it was only
occasionally we had a glimpse of that of which the young actress is
capable. Mr. Lewis Waller did his best with a very thankless part,
and redeemed much that was weak in it. Mr. W. H. Vernon was to
the life an unprincipled selfish creature, whose only object in existence
is his own pleasure and gratification. Mr. Ivan Watson was excel-
lent as a fire-eating madly-jealous Frenchman. Miss Louise Gourlay
very clever as a waiting- maid ; Mr. C. Ramsay amusing as a cockney
serving lad ; and Mr. Lawrence D'Orsay -well represented an old
roue. The other parts were capably filled. The dialogue was often
very good, and the moments of interest induced the audience to call
for the author, but he did not appear. The play was excellently
staged.

"THE SOLICITOR."

Original farce, in three acts, by J. H. DARXLBY.
First produced in London at Toole's Theatre, Thursday, July 3, 1890.

Pfc/l^" WI" 1 Mr. HENRY BEDFORD.

Gilbert Brandon .. .. Mr. JOHN TRESAOAR,

Colonel Sterndale .. Mr. F. KAYE.
n *„• «!,«, ,. ( Mr. GRAHAM WKNT-

Captam Midnurst . . j AVORTII.

Lieutenant Arlington Mr. A. B. FRANCIS.

PrivatoManners.. .. J

Hobson ........ Mr. HENKY W. BUAME.

Percy Fiteger
Baxter . . . .
Mr?. Brandon

Mrs. Sterndale

Mrs. Midhurst

Mary Kingston
Bella .. ..

ald)

Mr. FRED BURTON.

Miss SU.SIB VAUGHAN.

Miss RUTH RUTLAND.
( Miss BLANCHE
) WOLSKLEY.

Miss CLARA ELLISON.

Miss DELIA CARLYLK

Improbable beyond the dream of possibility, but intensely amusing,
is this piece — onethatsetsyoulaughing from start to finish, and strange

86 THE THEATRE. [AUG. i, 1890.

to say, that has a third act which is very nearly as strong and funny as its
two preceding ones. Mr. Darnley is consistent ; he scarcely attempts
the development of any plot. He sets certain characters before you,
gets them into all sorts of ridiculous situations, and lets you laugh at
them, and keeps you laughing so persistently that you do not stop to
consider that such things could scarcely happen, and all the fun is
harmless. The Solicitor, Gilbert Brandon, evidently mixes in the
best society, and so he dines with a crack regiment. After mess he
•accepts a bet that he will not drive a hansom; he mounts the cab,
and is hailed by a lady — his own wife. He drives her to her destina-
tion, and has the satisfaction of seeing her kissed there by a soldier.
His next fare is a pair of burglars, who make him take them with
their " swag " to Shepherd's Bush. There he leaves the cab, which
he has driven off without the owner's knowledge, to take care of
itself. He is engaged by Mary Kingston, the daughter of the real
•cabman, to defend her father, who has been arrested on a charge of
being in complicity with the burglars. She is lodging at the house
to which he drove ,his wife, and there he witnesses an interview
between his wife and the soldier again, and also with Peter Flagan, a
swell mobsman, with whom Mrs. Brandon is endeavouring to negotiate
for the recovery of her diamonds, stolen from her when she was on
her way to pawn them and raise money to pay her milliner's bills, &c.
•Colonel Sterndale and Captain Midhurst, the one an old and the other
a younger Lothario, have been smitten by Mary Kingston's good
looks, and both come to the house on the excuse of helping her in her
trouble, and are followed and discovered by their wives. And so the
•cleverly contrived whimsicalities go on, brought to a climax in the
third act, when everybody determines to get divorced, the only com-
fortable ones being Private Manners, who turns out to be Mrs.
Brandon's brother, and who carries off pretty Mary Kingston, and
Lieutenant Arlington, a cheery young sub,who laughsat them all round,
commanding officer included. The piece was excellently cast. Mr.
Tresahar entered completely into the spirit of his part, and gave a
very clever rendering of the unhappy lawyer, driven almost crazy by
the result of his foolish escapade, the discovery of which would ruin
him ; and also by his suspicions of his better half's conduct. Miss
Susie Vaughan, too, is a thorough comedy actress, and considerably
helped the play. Mr. F. Kaye was droll, but I should have
thought more of him had he been a little less like Gregory Bell
in the " Bungalow." Mr. Henry Bedford's sketch of Peter Flagan, the
burglar, alias Percy Fitzgerald, was original and highly diverting, so
naturally was it played. Miss Clara Ellison was bright and unaffected,
and Messrs. Graham Wentworth and Francis (the latter more par-
ticularly) smart in their respective characters. Mr. Darnley has
scored another success, and Miss Violet Melnotte has opened her
campaign here most auspiciously. Mr. Fred. W. Broughton's
comedietta " The Bailiff " was played as a first piece, and went un-
commonly well, thanks to Mr. Henry Bedford's very genial yet racy
-acting as Benjamin Grattan.

AUG. 1,1890.] OUR PLAT-BOX. 87

"SOWING AND REAPING."

Comedy, in two acts, by C. VKHNON.
First placed in the evening bill at the Criterion, Saturday, July 5, 1890.

Harry Grahame . .
Joseph Shenston . .
Mr. Sampson Paley
Dick Hobbs . .
Robert

Mr. c. WYKDHAH.

Mr. GEO. GIDDKNS.
Mr. W. BLAKKLKY.
Mr. S. VALENTINE.
Mr. C. EDMONDS.

John

Mrs. Sampson Paley .
Mrs. Charity Smith .
Mrs. Watkins . . .
Julia .

Mr. F. EMERY.
Miss. E. LEYSHON.
Miss M. A. VICTOR.
Miss EMILY VININQ.
Miss MARY MOORE.

Although " Sowing and Reaping " was first produced on June 5 at
a matinee, and has since been played tor another charity, the presence
of the critic was not invited on either occasion, and we must therefore
look on July 5 as its first public performance. We must take the
author's announcement that it is a " new " comedy (it was called
a " proverb " on its initial production), though something very like it
was seen at the Lyceum a good many years ago, otherwise I should
say that its main interest had been suggested by the " Profligate " and
•"A Pair of Spectacles," which rolled together and treated in a lighter
vein, have resulted in, for the most part, pure comedy with a good dash
of farce in the second act. Harry Grahame has devoted his life to
amorous intrigue ; he is at the opening laying siege to Mrs. Sampson
Paley, the virtuous wife of a kind-hearted trusting husband, whose
motto in life is " love and confidence." Joseph Shenston, who is in
love with Julia, is made Grahame's innocent tool. He believes that
his friend is no more than a braggart, but is at heart really a sound
right-thinking fellow, and when Grahame, to'throw him off the scent,
declares that he is in love with Julia, Shenston takes him at his word,
unselfishly gives Julia up and brings about a public declaration and
Grahame's acceptance. True love revenges itself on Grahame in the
second act. He has become devoted to his wife, but is devoured by
the pangs of jealousy. From his own former experiences he con-
stantly dreads that Julia is unfaithful to him. He conjures up love
messages in a bouquet and billet-doux concealed in the present of a
brace of birds ; suspects his old friend Shenston, and brings matters
to a climax by feeling persuaded that a signal given by a humble
follower to his own cook is for a rendezvous between his wife and an
admirer. As he constantly says " I understand all that ; I've done it
myself." Finding himself altogether in the wrong and that he is
blessed with one of the purest and loveliest wives possible, let us
hope that he learns and teaches a lesson to all reformed rakes and
suspicious husbands. Mr. Charles Wyndham has just that light and
airy touch that carries off the baseness of an intriguer and makes his
conduct amusing, and in the later portion his belief that he was being
deceived was so really and earnestly conveyed as to constitute
thoroughly good acting, at the same time being highly relished by the
audience who are in the secret of his mistake. On Mr. Wyndham
falls the burden of the play. Mr. Geo. Giddens acts capitally as the
simple hearted genuine bookworm. Mr. Blakeley is droll as usual,
but is not quite cut out for the cheery middle-aged husband whose
honest, truthful nature would disarm any attacks upon his household
honour. Mr. Valentine was comic as the servant's sweetheart, who is
looked upon by Grahame as love's messenger. Miss Victor is a
kindly creature with a woman's love for the last word, and Miss
Mary Moore as the new made and suspected wife, and Miss Leyshon
as the elder wife who has to guard herself against the- rake's advances,
were both pleasing. The play was a success and would be a greater
one if the second act were curtailed. " Delicate Ground," with Mr.
Wyndham as Citizen Sangfroid, Mr. George Giddens as Alphonse de
Grandier, and Miss Mary Moore as Pauline, was given on the same

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI. P

88 THE THEATRE. [AUG. 1, 1890,

evening in a thoroughly capable manner, and Miss F. Frances played
brightly as Rose Petal in Arthur Mathison's farce "The Wall of
China."

"SWEET NANCY."

Comedy In three acts, founded by ROBERT BUCHANAN, by express arrangement with the novelist and

her publishers, on Miss RHODA BROUGHTON'S famous story "Nancy."

First performed at the Lyric Theatre, Saturday, July 12, 1890.

Sir Roger Tempest .. .. Mr.HENRYNEViLLE.
Frank Musgrave .. .. Mr. BUCKLATV.

Mr. BRNEST HEN-

Mrs. Grey ........ Miss ETHEL HOPE.

Barbara Grey (aged 25) . . Miss HARRIETT JAY.

Algernon Grer (aged 20)

Nancy Grey (aged 19) . . Miss ANNIE HUGHES.

Robert Grey (called Bobby, j M c M HALLARD,
aged 17) )

James Grey (called the ) Master WALTER
Brat, aged 14) . . ..} HIGHLAND.

Teresa Grey (called Tow- ) v, R FKRRAR
Tow, aged 12) . . . . ] Mlss B< * KRRAB-

Mrs. Huntley Miss FRANCES IVOR.

Pendleton Mr. SMITHSON.

Footman Mr. A. R. BENNETT.

Not having read Miss Broughton's novel, I cannot say how much
Mr. Buchanan is indebted to her book, nor how far he has varied the
incidents, but can only treat on his work as a comedy, and am sorry
to have to say that he has just missed writing a very good one. His
first act was delightful in its freshness ; the second was interesting
but wanted cutting down ; the third became tiresome, for we all
knew what was coming, but were kept going round and round the
catastrophe and explanation without advancing on our way. At least
a third of the last act could be spared ; the play could then be made
to wind up crisply. The events come about quite naturally, and the
conduct of all the characters is explicable but that of our heroine,
Nancy, who sits mumchance under a dreadful accusation, and allows
herself to be thought guilty by a husband to whom she is really
attached, merely from an overstrained sense of honour towards her
sister. And the plague of it is that were she to explain at once, her
sister would suffer in no one's estimation, for it is only that she has
perhaps too readily given her heart to a contemptible scoundrel.
Nancy, as will be seen by the programme, is one of a large family,
of all of whom she is very fond, except, perhaps, of her father, who is a
tyrannous old humbug. He has made up his mind that one of his
daughters shall marry his rich middle-aged friend, Sir Roger
Tempest, a noble fellow, whose thoughts turn to Nancy. In a
charming scene he proposes and is accepted, for the girl likes him
and thinks of the benefits she will be able to confer on her brothers
and sisters. Three months after, we find her married, very happy,
for she has everything she can desire and has become really attached
to Sir Roger — the only cloud on their domestic bliss is her husband's
familiarity with Mrs. Huntley, "a grass widow." They call each
other by their Christian names, and are certainly on the best of
terms ; but this is explained by the fact that she is the wife' of one
of Sir Roger's oldest friends and brother officers, who has entrusted
her to his comrade whilst he is abroad. Sir Roger is ordered on
foreign service, and has to leave to take up a command. Nancy feels
the separation deeply, and is delighted when, after a year's absence,
a telegram arrives announcing Sir Roger's immediate return. Frank
Musgrave has been constantly about the house on the assumable
pretext that he is attached to Barbara. This is, however, only a
cloak to hide his designs on Nancy, for whom he feels a mad passion.
When he learns of Sir Roger's approaching coming, Musgrave
declares his love for Nancy. She at first takes his words as con-
veying a proposal for Barbara, but when she understands them as
addressed to herself, she bursts into a fit of hysterical weeping, for

Aua. 1, 1890. J OUR PLAY-BOX. 89

she knows how her sister loves him, and as he is leaning over her
still pleading his cause, they are discovered by Mrs. Huntley and
Algernon, who is over head and ears in love with the heartless
coquette who has led him into even more than a flirtation. Sir
Roger returns and almost immediately hears from Mrs. Huntley, who
hates Nancy, the very worst account of her conduct during his
absence. He will scarcely believe evil of the woman he loves, but
naturally asks for an explanation. This Nancy will not give, but
retaliates on Mrs. Huntley's character for her open encouragement of
Algernon, and insists on being brought face to face with her. Mrs.
Huntley justifies her statements and there seems but little hope of a
reconciliation, when Barbara, who becomes aware of the sufferings
Nancy is undergoing for her sake, fetches Musgrave, who actually
before Sir Roger and Barbara admits his base conduct and acquits
Nancy of ever having looked on him otherwise than as her husband's
friend, and acknowledges how badly he has treated Barbara. And
so the curtain falls on the reconciliation. Mr, Henry Neville repre-
sented completely the noble loving nature of a man who cannot but
see the danger of having married a girl so much his junior, but who
is determined to win her entire love by his devotion. Miss Annie
Hughes surprised every one by the strength she displayed. She was
known to possess great pathos, but to mingle with it the brightness
of a thoroughly ingenuous girl, full of life and spirits, and later to
exhibit the woman's nature so truthfully, was a great triumph for a
young actress, who really carries the play almost entirely on her
shoulders. Miss Harriett Jay was a very sweet brave girl as Barbara ;
but I am inclined to think that the love of the sisters would have
been sufficiently apparent without quite so much embracing and
twining of arms about each other. Mr. Buckland did well in a very
repulsive part ; and Mr. Henry V. Esmond deserves the greatest
praise for his acting of a youth, just at that age when he fancies he
thoroughly understands the world and is made a victim to " calf
love." Mr. Ernest Hendrie was quaint and amusing. Miss Frances
Ivor was a little too supercilious in her manner. Miss Blanche
Ferrar was delightful as the tomboy, Tow-Tow. On the fall of the
curtain, there were some expressions of disapproval of the piece, but all
in the " cast " were enthusiastically called at the end of each act. " An
Old Maid's Wooing," which preceded, is by Arnold Goldsworthy and
E. B. Norman, and is a pretty idea, but one that has been used several
times before. Hester Grayson (Miss Ethel Hope) is placidly drifting
into becoming " an old maid," when the even current of her life is
disturbed by proposals from the rich squire, Henry Higgins (Mr. E.
Hendrie), and the poor clergyman, the Rev. Jas. Braithwaite (Mr.
E. B. Norman) — the latter offering himself and being accepted, when
he learns that his lady-love has dismissed his wealthy rival. A
lighter vein of comedy is introduced into the more poetic vein in the
loves of Naomi Wild (a little serving maid, remarkably well played
by Miss Blanche Ferrar) and George Gammon, a young poacher,
effectively rendered by Mr. Henry Bayntun. Mr. Hendrie threw
much kindly feeling into the part of the disappointed squire.

THE THEATRE.

[AUG. 1, 1890.

"AS YOU LIKE IT."

SHAKESPEARE'S comedy, in five acts.
Performed by AUGUSTIN DALY'S COMPANY OP COMEDIANS, at the Lyceum Theatre, Tuesday evening

July 15, 1890.
The Duke, living in ) Mr. CHARLES WHEAT-

Banishment .. . . } LEIGH.
Frederick, his brother)
and Usurper of his > Mr. BOND.

Dominions
Amiens . .
Jacques
A Lord . .
Le Beau

Denis Mr R. 'NTSRKTT.

Touchstone
Corin

Mr. JAMES LEWIS.
Mr. CHARLES LECLERCQ.
Mr. FREDERICK BOND.
Mr. EDWARD WILKS.
( Miss FLORENCE CONRON.
( Miss LOUISE SMITH.

| Miss KITTY CHEATHAM.

Miss ADELAIDE PRINCE.
Miss EDITH CRANE.
Miss ISABEL IRVING.
Miss ADA BEHAN.

Silvius

William
Two Pages
Duke, who
A person rep
Hymen
Celia . .
Phcebe ..
Audrey . .
Rosalind

of
sin
•esc

th
? .

itin

Mr. MACAULEY.

Mr. GEORGE CLARKE.

Mr. HOBART.

Mr. SIDNEY HERBERT.

Charles Mr. BOSWORTH.

Oliver Mr. EUGENE ORMOND.

Jacques Mr. W. SAMPSON.

Orlando Mr. JOHN D,JE\V.

Adam Mr. CHARLES FISHER.

The very effective representation given by the above talented corn-
pang of " The Taming of the Shrew," and Miss Ada Rehan's striking
impersonation of Katherine, could but arouse the greatest interest as
to the manner in which this favoured actress would acquit herself as
Rosalind in '.' As You Like It." Miss Rehan simply took the house
by storm. There was a royal dignity in the opening scenes, to be
followed by a poetic, scholarly, and most womanly assumption in the
forest scenes. It was, perhaps, exuberant in the flow of high spirits,
but then the exuberance was so graceful, so eminently feminine, that
if Miss Rehan was not always the Rosalind we had pictured to our-
selves that Shakespeare drew, we forgave the actress's novel concep-
tion of the character in our delight at the confidence and boldness
with which it was carried out. Miss Rehan looked admirable in her
drab-coloured male attire, with a ruby-coloured cloak and her brown
hose. Her Rosalind will never be forgotten by those who witnessed
it, and they will always remember with pleasure the exquisite
delivery of Shakespeare's lines. Mr. John Drew was a gallant
Orlando, but entered, perhaps, a little too gaily and lightly into the
wayward humour of Ganymede to woo him. The Celia of Miss
Adelaide Prince was very charming, but Miss Isabel Irving was a
commonplace Audrey. Mr. Charles Wheatleigh most worthily repre-
sented the banished Duke ; and had Mr. George Clarke not taken his
speeches quite so slowly his Jacques would have been admirable.
Mr. James Lewis, though quaint, was not the Touchstone of Shakes-
peare. In Mr. Bosworth, as Charles, the wrestler, we had one who
not only looked and acted the character well, but who could speak
the lines set down for him — an essential that is too often lost sight
of in casting the play. The only other unsatisfactory performances
were those of Mr. Charles Fisher as Adam, who was indistinct in his
utterance, and too feeble to fulfil the requirement of the text
" Though I look old, yet am I strong and lusty ; " and the Corin of
Mr. Charles Leclercq, of whom we expected better things. Though
admissible, the speaking the name of Rosalind throughout with the
final syllable long, as in " wynd," rather jarred upon the ear, as did
an occasional American intonation. Mr. Daly has given us a very
pure version of the play (restoring to the first Lord his rightful
lines). He has also retained the charming song sung by the two
pages, " In the Spring-time," as charmingly rendered ; and we have
also the masque of Hymen, as done lately (but infinitely better in
this case) at the St. James's. Mr. Macauley sang delightfully as
Amiens, and was supported by a thoroughly efficient chorus. The
orchestra, too, embellished the whole by its valuable aid. Of the
scenery and general arrangement it is impossible to speak too highly,
and Mr. Augustin Daly had his reward in the enthusiastic reception
accorded him when he came before the curtain.

CECIL HOWARD.

AUG. i, 1890.] OUR MUSICAL-BOX. 91

©uv fl&usfcaMBoy.

Musical Silhouettes.

No. 4.— THE EMINENT PIANIST.

HERE are two things that the Eminent Pianist, to be
counted as anything at all, should not fail to cultivate.
They are eccentricity and his hair. The more extravagant
he is in both of these respects the more popularity and
admiration will he command. Why the former should
stand him in good stead, those who know anything of the
world will at once realise ; as for the second, it is beyond
the power of any ordinary human to explain.

To succeed in society, the Eminent Pianist should first of all lay
in his stock in trade. This ought to consist of some affectation, a
certain amount of apparent nervous sensibility, a large quantity of
impertinence (only to be used when absolutely necessary), and a
clean-shaven physiognomy, combined with a delicate constitution, as
exemplified by a couple of white effeminate hands, with very long
fingers, and an unquenchable conceit ; this will enable him to start
anywhere and anyhow as an Eminent Pianist.

If he can proclaim himself a pupil of So-and-So, it will be of
enormous advantage to him. His hearers will then be able to trace
the influence of the maestro on his style and technique, which will
give them satisfaction in their own eyes and him importance. It
will not be necessary to state publicly when and where the lessons
from the maestro were administered, of how many they consisted.
nor allude to their most immediate result. The result that is of the
greatest concern to the Eminent Pianist is that they will probably,
aided by other adjuncts, give him the entree to musical society, and
bring down upon him the envy, hatred, malice and uncharitableness
of all other Eminent Pianists.

Having built his reputation, the Eminent Pianist will take unto
himself pupils, and settling down in a London suburb, marry and be
forgotten. Or else, which is more probable, he will, by the aid
of some enterprising entrepreneur, appear before the public, and
cover himself with glory and distinction by giving a pianoforte
recital. If he chooses this, he takes care to come out with a sudden
blare of paragraphic trumpets, and to come out, moreover, with a secret
romance tacked on to his name — a love story, or a tragic one, which-
ever best suits his complexion and his features. He is, of course, the

92 THE THEATfiE. [AUG. l, 1890.

idol of the hour, ladies adore him, vie with each other in luring him
to their social "at-homes," and profess an admiration for his personal
beauty much more sincere than their delight in his performance.

Thus he will attain eminence ; and having made himself a name
and a reputation, he will take the earliest opportunity of going, with
both, to America to earn that which he, being a sensible man, much
prefers — dollars.

Those who have enjoyed the favour of society and are fully aware
of the value to be attached to it, look on, and haply are amused at
the Eminent Pianist's success. Time was when they, too, were
eminent ; but it was long ago. They now are married, or grey, or
old, or staid, or wise. This one is a perfect player, but seldom is
heard in public ; that one is too much occupied with teaching. A
new social epoch has arisen and demands new hypocrisies to charm
it, even as a new disease calls for new remedies.

In due course, the Eminent Pianist comes home with dollars and
experience, of both of which he makes good use. But time has
flown ; a new Eminent Pianist, unheard of last year, is on his music-
stool, performing his feats, and playing his sonatas and symphonies.
For him, alack, there are deaf ears .and scant welcome. There is
nothing for him to do but join the band of onlookers, which, sooner
or later he does, and probably, in course of time, turns amateur
musical critic.

His criticisms are always bitter, but they are bitterest when a new-
comer essays to tread in the path he once trod ; and in which he has
left no footprints, however faint, to remind the world he, too, was
once an Eminent Pianist.

SEMIBBEVE.

The last Philharmonic Society's concert took place on June 28, when
Mr. F. H. Cowen received an enthusiastic farewell for the season, which has
proved, according to report, a most satisfactorily successful one. Supposing
the Society were to set, next season, one night apart for the performance of
works of English composers only. As an experiment, it is worth thinking of,
Mr. Cowen.

Mr. Bond Andrews' benefit concert took place on June 25, at 18, Peny-
wern Eoad, Earl's Court, by the kind permission of Mrs. M. B. Lucas.

Mr. Isidore De Lara gave a concert at Princes Hall on July 3 ; but as I
did not happen to lie present, I don't know anything about it. I understand
that Mr. De Lara is now going in for something higher than ballad-writing and
ballad-singing. Whatever this gains him, I am afraid it will lose him many of
his devoted lady adherents, to whose rapturous delight he has so long con-
tributed. Yet, stay ! Can it be that he intends to become missionary, and
work for their conversion also, to Art ?

As yet the concert " tide " shows only a slight sign of ebbing ; but by the
time this is in print, it will have fairly turned, and there will be plenty wno will
say " for this relief, much thanks." The last Richter on July 14. Madame
Patti's farewell (for the season) on July 16, in a measure set the word finis to
the long chapter.

Next year let the R.I.O. be rechristened the Royal Polyglot Opera, by all
means. It seems quite reasonable, when one hears almost as much of French

AUG. l, 1890.] OUR MUSICAL-BOX. 93

Opera as of Italian. Certes, whether Italian Opera be dead or not, it ia no
longer a craze ; its worshippers are beginning to allow a certain modicum of
merit in works that have not " borne the battle and the breeze " of a generation
or two.

Of recent years there certainly has been a revival of interest in English
Opera, to which the " Carl Rosa '' have contributed considerable weight. At the
same time, it cannot be ignored that much has also been done by numerous
lesser companies, who, by touring the provinces, familiarise the public with
much that once was held to be caviare to the general indeed. Of these, may at
once be cited Mr. J. W. Turner's company, and that of Mr. Arthur Rousbey,
himself a scion of the " Carl Rosa " house. I saw a performance of " The Rose
of Castille " by the latter artist's company at Brighton recently, and was very
pleased with the excellent care and judgment shown. Granted that the opera
is worn out, though it was among those to have been revived at Drury Lane
this season ; but Mr. Rousbey's company was small and distinctly good,
and almost made one forget the well-nigh impossible plot, and the somewhat
commonplace simplicity of the music. Still, there was a certain charm about
the performance. I like Mr. Rousbey's voice very much indeed, and he uses it
artistically. I should like to have seen " Figaro," which was put on the night
before.

I went to the French Exhibition to hear the " French " band. The first
thing I heard was a trashy gavotte by an English composer ; the next was a
•selection from a " Gaiety" burlesque. Why is there not a small French orchestra
there, playing the music of France, opera light and serious, of which there is
surely enough '{ But I suppose these things must be as they are. The comic
side of the question comes in when one recollects that our own Grenadiers' and
Coldstreams' Bands so seldom play English music. After all, it is a proof of our
splendid international reciprocity !

Farewell to " Ruy Bias," at the Gaiety. I most fervently hope and trust
that the next Farren and Leslie burlesque may be less American. A theatre
possessing Herr Meyer Lutz for conductor of orchestra need not cross the
Atlantic for its music, if it occasionally has to for its jokes and business. When
I think of "Ruy Bias," I recollect, with regret, Stephens and Yardley's "Little
.Jack Sheppard," with Nellie Farren an inimitable Jack, Leslie as Wild, and
David James as Blueskin ; and some delightful music from the pens of still
living and waiting English composers.

Some of these composers have operas that have long waited the chance of
production. But I see none of them announced for the coming season.
France, principally, blocks their way. The little sudden impulse given to
English music by the extraordinary success of "Dorothy" has, I very much
fear, died out. I cannot but think that there are English musicians capable of
writing comic opera if they had any prospect held out to them of their works
•ever appearing before the British public. I don't mean Anglicised foreigners,
but native Englishmen, who do not soar too high, and do not try to write sym-
phonies before they are out of Academical leading-strings.

Farewell also, I believe, to " Marjorie," which has enjoyed more popularity
than anyone at first gave it credit for being strong enough to gain. As for
reasons for this being so, I have some of my own, but intend to keep them to
myself. Musically speaking, Mr. Slaughter's next opera ought to be a much
better work.

CLIFTON BINGHAM.

NEW MUSIC RECEIVED.

From METZLER & Co. : " The Fishers," a cantata, written by Henry Rose,
composed by J. M. Coward. There is nothing absolutely novel in the " book "
of Mr. Coward's cantata, the three scenes to which it is written being laid
respectively on land, at sea, and on the beach, to where the fishermen return
safe home at last. Neither, perhaps, is there any great novelty in Mr. Coward's
music. But as an entirety " The Fishers" is a work of much charm and merit

94 THE THEATRE. [AUG. 1, 1890.

from beginning to end. Mr. Coward does not attempt too lofty a musical flight
— not so lofty a one as his qualities would permit him to attain, for which he is
much to be praised. From the bold and well-marked opening prelude to the
bright finale, every line speaks the musician in well-chosen phrases and
scholarly manner. Sometimes the " book," we must confess, descends to
bathos, but the music is admirable for its simplicity and appropriateness
throughout the work.

From EICORDI & Co. : " Lovelight " (G. H. Newcombe and Thos. Hutchin-
son), a somewhat commonplace song, passable but of a most ordinary type,
words and music. " Back to the Old Love " (Clifton Bingham and F. Paolo-
Tosti). Mournful but expressive, though not one of the Signor's best songs.

©ur Hmateurs'

With the growth of civilization and the higher culture of women, there has
been a gradual diminution in the virulence of that essentially feminine plague,
the Confession Book ! It is necessary to revert to this social scourge of former
days, however, to point a moral and adorn a tale ! In those blottesque pages,
as Mr. Ruskin would call them, there was this question invariably put: — " If not
yourself, who would you be ? " The answer generally told a good deal. The
school-boy, dreaming of the army, chose Lord Wolseley or General Gordon. In
the names of Adelaide Proctor or Sister Dora one read the young girl just con-
firmed, with her pretty head full of unworldly aspirations and high ideals. But
the favourite reply would be, according to the sex of the victim, the Prince or
Princess of Wales. Snobbery no doubt had much to do with it ; but over and
above all that, the desire most probably was for a life of ease and elegance, free
from any sordid cares or exhausting duties. And that brings us to the tale.
On the 23rd of June, at Esher, under the patronage of the Duchess of Albany,
who had kindly consented to be present, a performance was given of " Still
Waters Run Deep." Let every envious democrat who cons these notes think
of that and shudder. Not to sit in critical judgment, with a view to appearing
in print ! Not to sell time and experience and one's command of English ! But'
for pleasure, a verbal cloak for charitable duty, to sit through " Still Waters '
once again ! Who would be a " Royalty " ! What the Duchess thought and said,
the 'umble commoner, who writes, does not pretend to know. But he soothes
himself with the reflection that the credit of the amateur stage was nobly
sustained, and that in the judgment even of so practised a playgoer as Her
Royal Highness must be, recollections of the Criterion and St. James's were not
bound to assert themselves. Mr. Sansbury is always virile, solid, and in love
with his work. The amateur Lewis Waller he should be called. His Mildmay
is full of honest colour and quiet force, and would be called good in any
company. Mr. Bonault fits Hawkesley like a glove. He understands that very
raffish individual and carries out his views with much incisiveness and dramatic
effect. Mrs. J. L. Shine makes a youthful and a pretty Mrs. Mildmay, im
pulsive enough to account for a great deal, yet sincere enough to leave us free
from misgivings about her future — a clever piece of acting. Mrs. Newton
Phillips gives a fresh and wholesome reading of Mrs. Sternhold, womanly and
sympathetic before everything ; and the antiquated humours of good old Mr.
Potter are safe in the hands of Mr. Williams, an actor who is wasted on such a
thankless part as this.

Mr. Royston Keith drew a large house at Kilburn on the 26th June, but his
programme was so full of professional items that to extract the amateur
element is almost as difficult as getting a periwinkle out with a pin. Mr.

AUG. i, 1890.] OUR AMATEURS' PLAY-BOX. 95

Herbert Harraden must be mentioned as one who not so very long ago was an
amateur, but when he has been complimented on the remarkable humour and
clever satire of his Corney Grain sketch, nothing shall delay the review of the
bona-fide amateurs who took part in the entertainment. " Elaine," a new play
by the giver of the feast, was, so to speak, new wine in an old bottle. The
flavour was quite palatable, however, and the guests evidently considered it a
most satisfactory beverage. Whether Mr. Keith has read or seen "Society,"
" Sunset,1' " By the Sea," and half-a-dozen other more or less popular plays,
does not very much matter. " Elaine " resembles them all, here a little and
there a little, as the nursery books have it ; but then all pieces now-a-days re-
semble each other to a considerable extent, so that is not to be accounted much
of a fault. Mr, Keith might have chosen a less hackneyed subject though, even
if like so many of our original dramatic thinkers, he had been forced to take a
trip to Paris for a histrionic germ. His language is so appropriate, occasionally
even pointed and of some wisdom, and his characters are drawn with so much
feeling for stage presentation, that regret becomes almost sorrow at the play's
want of something in motive or treatment to distinguish it from its innumerable
predecessors A traveller and his long deserted lassie, with a mysterious child in
all innocence adopted by the sweet Elaine, are the" prominent figures in this half
hour exposition of misunderstanding, recrimination, and reconcilement. Not in
themselves different from a hundred such, they were handled with tact and
thought by Mrs. Thompson and Mr. Keith, who interested everyone in their
fortunes and made pretty well all that could be made out of their scenes of
affection and of doubt. Miss Sinclair, whose talent is not quite fairly employed
in playing mammas, even of youthful marriageable daughters, was clever as
usual ; and a promising stage child was discovered in Miss Bessie Thompson.
Mr. Keith must try again and avoid if he can snaring us with the pitfall of mis-
understanding. We know that pitfall so well !

The last month has been a rare one for Mr. Gilbert, in the matter of patron-
age by the amateurs. It has been one continuous bout of " Pygmalion and
Galatea." There might indeed be a Grecian revival booming from the dead set
every club and coterie has made at this pseudo-classic, modern-antique comedy.
Had June been baking hot, the reason would have suggested itself to what the
evening papers, in criticising their political opponents, haughtily term " the
meanest capacity." But the skies having throughout the month adopted their
November garb, it is not easy to suggest an explanation for this epidemic of
chiton-mania. Even a tailor or a dressmaker, anxious to dispose of a stock of
ivory and brickdust cashmere, would hesitate in such weather to recommend it
as " excellent seasonable wear." Reason or no reason, though, there the fact is ;
and as a fact it must be faced. First in the field were a scratch cast at the
LadbrokeHall,onthe 1st and 2nd July. The play was reverently treated by these
actors, who seemed to have their heart in their work and more respect for their
author than is usually found among amateurs, or for the matter of that pro-
fessionals either. We were not perhaps hypnotised into a condition of belief in
the surroundings being those of ancient Athens or the people being genuine
Greeks ; but then Mr. Gilbert has done his best to dissipate any such delusion,
and even the cleverest actors are sorely put to it to lend an air of possibility to
the play. Miss Mary Campbell looked very sweet as Galatea, wore her
draperies with grace, and reproduced some of the prettiest of Flaxman's "Iliad "
attitudes. Her comedy scenes were played with charmingly delicate humour,
womanliness was the chief virtue (an inestimable one) of her rendering, and,
if the sombre side was shirked, it was not owing to want of sincerity but only
to lack of courage. Stone walls do not a prison make, nor loud, high notes
appalling passion ! Mrs. Frank Campbell erred in not studying jealous fury from
life, but with the exception of the curse episode, her treatment of Cynisca was
impressive, classical, and natural. Mr. Hainsworth looked Pygmalion admir-
ably ; had he spoken with as much variety and feeling as Mr. Graves (a most
artistic Leucippe) the result would have been surprising. Mr. Homan and Miss
Syers-Jones had an easy task as Chrysos and Daphne. The make-up and the
words are always enough to play these parts. And a line must be given for the
winning manner of Myrine.

Another and a better world, of Greece, was launched into the limited space
behind the footlights, at the same temple of Thespis, within a week. Mr.

96 THE THEATRE. [AUG. 1, 1890.

Trollope had the guidance of these actors, and his experience in direction and
suggestion was noticeable everywhere. The mounting was, on the whole,
more appropriate, the stage business was accomplished without dragging and
drawling, and the general arrangement of the scene bore testimony to a practised
eye for the useful if conventional " stage effect." The raw material, if one may
use the term without incurring displeasure, to be moulded into artistic shape
under the skilful fingers of the stage manager, was also of better quality ; so
there was little to wonder at in the comparatively satisfactory level attained
by Mr. Trollope's painstaking flock. Mrs. Ernest Renton has not the physique
for Gala tea, who must either be the massive statuesque wo man of the Mrs. Kendal,
Miss Anderson, and Mrs. Langtry type, or a willowy slender girl such as Miss
Fortescue or Miss Marion Terry makes her. But height and flexibility are in-
dispensable. Mrs. Renton, too, is more at home in the domestic pathos of a
Lucy Chetwynd than in the declamatory weeping and wailing of a classical
heroine. Still, she fought gallantly against these defects of nature and of tem-
perament ; utilised her valuable method, simple as a Beichemberg's, with great
effect in the comedy scenes, and gave such a careful and intelligent reading of the
character as to a large extent disarmed criticism. There was nothing inspired
about her work, nothing specially poetical ; but it was womanly and delightfully
human, with a true ring of feeling in it. Miss Kathleen Tellek has not yet
learned how to let herself go ; and a restrained Cynisca is an anomaly. There
is marked promise in all she does, and this study was no exception ; but Cynisca
is a trying part and needs great experience. Mr. Montgomerie has much to
commend him as a hero. He is fearless, frank, and bold. If he would put
more variety not only into his tones, but also into his method of speaking, he
would take rank among the few good Pygmalions. Mr. Colley Salter and Mrs.
Lennox Browne are in their element as the burlesque art patron and his vulgar
wife. Not a point is neglected, and the full force of knowledge and talent is
applied to drive each point home. Miss Dredge and Mr. Gordon Young have
but little chance of acting as Leucippe and the maiden of the Athenian Mayfair,
but they speak verse prettily, and that is a virtue not to be despised.

Tried at Bedford Park some week or two earlier, Dr. John Todhunter's
" Sicilian Idyll " attained the dignity of a London performance on the 1st July.
Guinea stalls and well-known faces, delay in beginning, and indiscriminative
applause, all bespoke the solemnity and the fashionableness of the occasion.
In some measure these honours were not undeserved. The play itself, slight
and wanting in dramatic force and cohesion as it is, has such grace and elegance
in thought and language to commend it, that the production for this one reason
only must have been worthy of attention. The labours of Mr. Baldry, Mr.
Paget, and Mr. Selby who were responsible for the beautiful scene, tasteful
costumes, and appropriate music, also deserve mention ; and the care bestowed
upon the work, though much of it was misdirected, and some was conceived in
an utterly wrong spirit, set an example in thoughtfulness few clubs could
afford to despise. With more spirit, more distinction, more knowledge, among
the actors, there would indeed have been little to find fault with ; and the
author's somewhat dangerous step, in entrusting a poetical novelty to amateurs,
might well have won approval. As it was, the setting was sumptuous ; there
was a feast for the eye wherever one looked (and, apropos, the primitive
dresses of the shepherds might be so fashioned as to restrict our acquaintance
with their anatomy within the customary bounds), dances and songs were
prettily rendered, the smooth melodious lines were very welcome, and it was
only in the assumption of character that the effort was unsatisfactory. Mr.
Marras spoke a prologue with refreshing vigour, if with too great a tendency
to hurry it ; but he was the only male player to throw energy and dramatic
intention into his part. Mr. Paget and Mr. Cecil Crofton looked the love-lorn
heroes admirably ; but looking is not acting. There was a venerable old gen-
tleman who sold Echoes in the Strand some years since (a French refugee
nobleman by repute), who could have looked the prophet Moses to perfection,
but I much doubt if he could have realised the character in a stage play. Miss
Lily Linfield, resembling Miss Letty Lind in more than her initials, danced
with fairy grace and bewitching abandon, and within narrow limits acted with
befitting vivacity. And Miss Florence Farr, with handsome presence and
genuine intensity, made the most trying scenes the greatest success. But a
reconsideration of the cast must precede any intended revival.

AUG. i, 1890.] OUR AMATEURS' PLAY-BOX. 97

Nothing could be more suitable for a ladies' college than Tennyson's
" Princess," and the pupils of the famous Cheltenham institution acquitted
themselves well of a difficult task, despite the awful obstacles of impetuous
romantic youths and stalwart Amazons, all of necessity to be supplied by cul-
tured members of the weaker sex, who are not usually associated with massive
frames or impulsive temperaments. The opportunity for a pretty display was
too good to be lost, and regarded as a spectacle, the production was a huge
success. Dainty gowns of every hue made the " sweet girl graduates " of the
Princess Ida's University a captivating crowd. And what the acting wanted
in conviction and in emotional power was largely atoned for by the personal
grace and charm of the players. Mr. Gilbert's treatment of the story suggested
too many improvements to escape imitation ; so with special music composed
by Mr. Arthur Somerville, the introduction of several of the lyrics, a delight-
ful minuet, and such-like additions, a very effective play was built up.
Miss Hart had sufficient stage instinct to desire to be herself, idealised.
Her Princess was above all things a woman, and though the verse
was hurried, and ignorance of stagecraft flung away numberless delicate
effects, the outlines of the character were true and sympathetic, and
even tinged with poetry. Miss Hartley, as the Prince, wore her unaccus-
tomed dress with ease, and, so far as her girl's nature would permit her,
threw herself heartily into the spirit of the character. The lover was, of
course, a little epicene, but in London we are used to this style of jeune
premier, so there was really nothing to jar upon one's feelings, and Miss
Hartley might also have been a popular young actor for all the traces of
her sex observable. Miss Dawson was the prim and prudish Lady Blanche, and
played the stern dame cleverly. The merriest of foils was Miss Herbert, a
Melissa of whom Miss Millett or Miss Hughes might almost have been envious,
so girlish, natural, and tender was she. Miss Chute was hardly less success-
ful as the Lady Psyche, and with the Misses M. and C. Evans lightly trip-
ping through the parts of Cyril and Florian, and the King's lines spoken with
firmness and force, the play may be said to have had justice done to it. Mana-
gers and agents might do worse than seek recruits among the comedians and
romancists in the classic groves of the Old Wells Theatre, Cheltenham.

How fast the world moves. Only a do/en years ago and " New Men and
Old Acres" was still a play so nearly up to date as to be worthy of a re-
vival under Mr. Hare at the Court, with the strongest cast that could be
got together. And now ! oh, the flatness and weariness of it ! what fossils
the jokes seem, how crude the construction, and how old-fashioned the
characters. Even Lilian's slang, once one of the chief attractions of the
" comedy," sounds antediluvian, and in these days of " booms " and "corners,"
what abject idiots are the rascally millionaire financiers of Tom Taylor's
imagination. Perhaps it was the air of survival, perhaps it was the nervous-
ness of the several debutantes, or perhaps it was the reaction caused by Taylor
and Dubourg after a spell of Ibsen, but the charity boom in " New Men " at
St. George's Hall on July 5 was not exhilarating. Two actors there were who
kept on pulling the chestnuts — jokes and all 1 — out of the fire ; but it was a
tedious business when these excellent comedians were not busy. For once,
I think, I would have approved Mr. Arthur Roberts' method, and if Mr.
Quintin and Mr. Trollope had gagged the whole play, to the complete exclu-
sion of several of the leading characters, I should have smiled forgivingly.
Mr. Fladgate is the best Brown the amateurs have. He looks it and plays it
capitally, but Brown cannot lighten a scene against the will of everyone else ;
and with a monotonous heroine and a humourless mamma-in-law, the hero is
badly handicapped. Miss Hylda Gorst had not the experience and confidence
for Lilian, a very difficult part ; but her acting was that of a clever girl, if
not a clever actress. Mrs. Macauley, with a few lessons from a dramatic Mr.
Turveydrop, in one act, and a dozen from Mr. Hermann Vezin in another, would
have been capital as Lady Vavasour, and when Mr. Spence has subdued his
jerkiness in movement, there will be no fault to find with his very naturally
spoken county magnate. Miss Henderson a little overdid the vulgarity of
Mrs. Bunter, but that no doubt was owing to a feeling that the play was flat
and wanted lifting. Without her, and Mr. Quintin and Mr. Trollope, what
should we have done for amusement? Kindly amusement, I mean !

98 THE THEATRE. ;AUG. l, 18&0

©ur

On Saturday evening, the 19th of July, the final performance of "The
Village Priest," prior to the closing of the house and Mr. Tree's provincial tour,
took place at the Haymarket Theatre. Mr. Tree's announcement that he will
reserve Monday evenings for productions of plays other than the one which is
running, and that where possible the plays shall be new works by English
authors, is fraught with even greater importance than at first meets the eye. In
fact, the variety of interests affected makes a consideration of the results of this
bold stroke of policy anything but a simple task. The first question that
obviously arises is, "How is the enterprising manager going to make it pay?"
Mr. Tree has acquired a reputation for elaborate and costly mounting whichhe
is hardly likely to imperil by slovenly or cheap work now. No doubt, if the
new essays strike the public fancy, he will add them to the repertory of which
he speaks, but the expense of a new production carried out with Mr. Tree's
usual thoroughness is no joke. One failure would involve an outlay from which,
to say nothing of a repetition of it, a manager might well shrink without any
exaggerated sense of prudence. And then, we all know how difficult it is, even
with the ripest, most artistic, and most practical judgment, to select a piece that
shall hit the public taste, especially where a young and untried author or a new
and unconventional subject is concerned. But the matter of expense does not
by any means end here. To give up to what may prove a failure a single night
in each week which would otherwise be devoted to a running play drawing large
sums night after night, materially swells the possible total of loss, even if we ex-
clude the superstitious notion so often and so disastrously exemplified in practice,
that a break in the run involves a fatal break in the luck. However, in this
case, the break will be so short and so regular that the continual announcement
of a new programme will further advertise the theatre and keep the public
regularly on the qui vive ; and to this consideration Mr. Tree, who is a shrewd
man of business as well as a highly versatile actor, is probably fully alive.

In fact, there is no reason to suppose that in the new departure the Hay-
market inanagar is going to be less successful than he has hitherto been during
a short management which has certainly not been marked by timidity. No
step that he could have taken would be better calculated to confirm his
authority in the position he has assumed in the recent revival of the old actoi-
manager controversy. Whether the scheme result in loss or profit to himself
the public must be the gainers, and not the public alone. Mr. Tree will have
shown that, without disregarding the business side of his profession, he has a
genuine regard for the artistic welfare of his audiences, whose gratitude he will
have earned by putting so broadly conceived a plan for their benefit into prac-
tical shape. He will have done much if he only determines the question
whether we really have young vigorous dramatic blood among us ; and he will
have done no little to remove that abounding curse of long runs, the wooden
monotony bred in actors by month after month's repetition of the same part.
And then, think what hitherto unknown gifts and graces may be revealed in
yoang actors and actresses where they are allowed to try their powers in, say,
twenty-five or thirty new parts a year, instead of one or two. In short, \ve
believe, as we hope, that Mr. Tree's very boldness may be the highest assur-
ance of its true prudence. He has now a strong and enthusiastic following ;
but there is no reason why by the exercise of an enterprising and intelligent
policy such as he is just entering upon, his connection should not be doubled
or trebled. This thing is certain, that if the Haymarket manager again brings
to bear the same amount -.if the skill, foresight, liberality, and judgment that have
hitherto characterised his rule, the public will be culpably negligent if it
fails to respond in such a way as to make the new venture a triumphant success.

AUG. i, 1890.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 99

When will audiences begin to understand the relative positions they hold
with managers and actors ? The unfortunate misconception in the public mind
was forcibly exemplified on the occasion of the Marlowe Memorial Fund
matinee at the Shaftesbury Theatre, when the name of Mrs. John Wood, a
manageress usually very popular, was assailed with a storm of hisses. Momen-
tary irritation was no doubt excusable, since through what might at first
have appeared an arbitrary intervention, Mr. Herbert Waring was prevented
from undertaking a part in Mr. Justin Huntly McCarthy's new monologue,
Mr. Willard at the last moment being called upon to read it. Perhaps we may
say, without the least intention of disparaging Mr. Waring's undoubted powers,
that an accident that gave the public on such an occasion rather more of Mr.
Willard's always acceptable presence on the stage than they had been led to
anticipate, was not such a terrible misfortune after all, but the fact remains
that a particular actor had promised to fill a particular part and failed to do so,
because his manager, availing herself of a right Mr. Waring did not call in
question, refused him permission to appear. Whose fault was it ? The
audience, by their hisses, seemed to favour the idea that Mrs. John Wood was
to blame, but is this really so ? Certain London managers, on certain more or
less sufficient grounds, have thought proper to do a thing they have an unques-
tionable right to do, i.e., to insist that the members of their respective com-
panies shall not have the privilege of appearingat matinees without the managerial
permission first obtained. The engagement of an actor is a matter of pure
business, and an actor having given an undertaking, should be called upon to
fulfil it like any other party to a contract. It is no business of his or the
public's what his employer's grounds for making the rule may be, though in
the case of this particular regulation, it is by no means certain that it is not
directly in the public interest. The matinee system has been hailed with de-
light as a means of relieving actors of the monotony of long runs, and giving
them opportunities of extending their narrowly limited repertoires, and
generally widening their artistic and educational experience. But there is
another side to the question. If an actor has a trying part to play in the even-
ing, and is engaged until five or half -past five, or even six, in a morning per-
formance that may be not less exacting, can he be said to so do his duty to his
regular manager if he turns up after a rapidly-gulped meal and a hasty change,
probably fagged and harassed and still excited, from his previous work ? The
chances are that in the evening his freshness will be gone, his attention will be
distracted, so that the second performance, for which the manager should have
the first call on his best energies, will be but a perfunctory thing. Who then
can blame the manager if, either on his own behalf or in the interest of the public
(and in this case the causes are common to both manager and public), he
puts his foot down and insists upon having what both he and his patrons have
paid for ? How it was that Mr. Waring did not apply earlier for the permis-
sion that was not accorded does not concern us now. The audience knew no
more than we do, and their hasty condemnation of Mrs. John Wood must have
arisen, as we suggested before, from a complete misappreciation of the relative
rights and interests of public, managers, and actors.

M. Got, the doyen of the French stage, has been at particular pains to prove
that the art in which he excelled is not one that requires any particular in-
tellectual ability in its professors. We hope that no one will be rude enough to
point out to so venerable a representative of the actor's calling, the logical result
of the statement as applied to himself. He might be tempted to answer that
he is the exception proving the existence of the rule. But we cannot think
for a moment that the veteran French actor seriously believes what he says.
What he probably means is that over-sensibility may mar an actor's effects, and
insensibility prove a sort of negative advantage ; in fact, his use of the word
"confidence," in that connection, is almost conclusive ; but that is a very old
and much debated point, and quite a different thing from saying that intellect
is a drawback rather than a help to histrionic success. His statement that he
knows many sculptors and painters of real talent who, outside their own line,
are as foolish as geese, has nothing to do with it. The most it proves is that
they have a faculty of concentrating all their powers on their one pursuit. This
may bespeak a narrow but decidedly not a weak intellect.

100 THE THEATRE. [Atro. l, 1890.

Mr. Irving was not less happy than usual in his remarks on the influence of
art at the meeting in support of a Fine Art G-allery for South ^London on the
18th of July. His plea for something to " take people out of the joyless
humdrum of their daily existence " was conceived in a broad spirit of apprecia-
tion of the arts he does not profess, and of sympathy with those whom " a hard
lot surrounds with very unlovely things and denies them a glimpse of treasures
which are enjoyed by their more fortunate fellows." His references to " the
human race, which consists entirely of ratepayers," in their opposition to state-
aided art, were also refreshingly humorous, and the whole speech is well worth
reading for its own sake.

Miss Eleanor Leyshon, the subject of our first photograph, was for a consider-
able time a member of one of the best amateur dramatic clubs, " The Strolling
Players." It was whilst with them that the young lady gained that experience
which taught her to act sufficiently well to attract the attention of the late Mr.
John Clayton. He at once engaged Miss Leyshon, who may be said to have
commenced her professional career under his auspices, August 5, 1887, and played
on tour with him or his companies most successfully such parts as Charlotte,
Salome, &c., in his farcical comedies. Mr. Clayton's lamented death brought
the engagement to a close, and Miss Leyshon then played ingenue parts at matinees
and made her London debut at the Princess's, as Rebecca, in "Midnight, or the
Wood Carver of Bruges," May 24, 1888, and then graduated during the
summer in a good school on tour with the Conway Comedy Company, play-
ing in most of the old English comedies. As merit is not invariably and at
once recognized by managers, the young actress was for some time out of a
regular engagement, but was not idle, for she " created " the roles of Ethel
Bartlett in " See-Saw " (Terry's, Feb, 22, 1889) ; Sybil Hardwicke in " The
Bookmaker " (Terry's, March, 19, 1889) ; the title role, or rather Queenie, in
H. W. Williamson's " My Queenie " (Vaudeville, April 9, 1889) ; Henriette in
" Esther Sandraz " (Prince of Wales's, June 11, 1889). During Miss Leyshon's
engagement at the St. James's under Mr. Rutland Barrington's management, she
appeared as Mrs. Helmsley in " A Patron Saint " (October 17, 1888) ; and played
the title role, so well in " Sweet Lavender " with Mr. Terry at Brighton (March
21, 1889) that it would have secured her the engagement to continue to play the
part in London but for Miss Blanche Horlock's recovery. In October, 1889,
Miss Leyshon became a member of Mr. Charles Wyndham's company, and
accompanied it to America, where she appeared as Mrs. Torrington in " The
Headless Man," Mrs. G-raythorne in " Pink Dominoes," Blanche in " Ours," and
since her return has played at the Criterion as Fanny in " Trying It On," and as
Constance Neville in " She Stoops to Conquer," and is now appearing in " Sowing
and Reaping " as Mrs. Sampson Paley, a part in which she is highly commended
for her grace and ingenuousness. Miss Leyshon has just declined the renewal
of her engagement with Mr. Wyndham. Unaided by any theatrical interest,
Miss Leyshon has steadily made her way in her profession, and has in it every
prospect of a bright career.

Miss Edith Woodworth has several times been seen as Gilberte in "Frou-
Frou," a performance of which was given at the St. James's Theatre on
Thursday afternoon, July 10, in aid of "The Buttercup and Daisy Fund."
Miss Woodworth had not improved by her absence from the stage, and we
should scarcely mention the performance but that Mr. Arthur Bourchier,
evidently determined to try a round of characters, appeared very capably as the
old rone Brigard ; and Miss Gertrude Kingston was very womanly and pure as
Louise, Mr. Henry Neville excellent* as the weak but adoring Henry Sartorys,
and Miss Fanny Brough clever as the Baronne de Cambri. It has been remarked
of late that Mr. Fred Terry is getting rather " stagey," and inclined to pose ;
this was very noticeable in his Comte de Valreas. Miss Edith Chester was the
Pauline ; Mr. Forbes Dawson was a fair Piton, a little too much inclined to low
comedy ; and Mr. Gilbert Farquhar was Mr. Gilbert Farquhar as, the Baron de
Cambri.

Messrs. Willard and Lart kindly gave the use of the Shaf tesbury Theatre on
the afternoon of Friday, July 4, for a performance in aid of the Marlowe
Memorial, which is to be erected at Canterbury, his native place, and where he wa&

'THE THEATRE," AUGUST, 1890.

Photographed by Barraud. Oxford Street, W.

MISS ELESNOR LEYSHON.

" Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say— good night, till it be morrow."

—ROMEO & JULIET, Act II, Sc 2.

N & Co., PUBLISHERS,
LONDON.

ATO. 1,1890.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 101

educated. The matinee was an interesting one, as there were three novelties, in
addition to recitations by Miss Maude Millett and Mr. George Giddens, a song
by Mr. Ben Davies, a violincello solo by Mr. Van Biene, and a dance by Miss
Letty Lind. Besides these, Mr. Willard gave, with the greatest success, a
costume recital of " A Last Confession," a powerful and intensely pathetic
poem by Dante Gabrielle Rossetti ; and the Avenue Company kept the house
in a roar with the second act of " Dr. Bill." Mr. W. L. Courtney's one-act play
on the hero of the afternoon, entitled " Kit Marlowe," is not without literary
merit, but is devoid of incident until the dramatist is stabbed to death by
Francis Archer, landlord of the Red Lion, Deptford, one of Marlowe's favourite
haunts. Archer resents Nan's love for Marlowe, and kills him out of jealousy,
poor Kit regretting in his dying moments that he will not live to see the
fruition of his hopes to become one of the mighty writers of the age. Mr.
Arthur Bourchier had evidently studied the character of the roystering,
thoughtless, yet poetic, Marlowe, and his death scene was worthy of praise.
Miss Annie Irish made much of the part of Nan. There was also played, for
the first time in England, " Miss Hoyden's Husband," Augustin Daly's version
of Sheridan's " Trip to Scarborough." Though ingeniously embodying in one
act the principal features of the wooing of Miss Hoyden, the piece is much
weakened by all the other characters being made so much subservient to hers.
Nor is there anything very brilliant in the manner in which the dialogue was
fitted together. Miss Rehan has been seen to much greater advantage than as
Miss Hoyden. Her continuing to nurse her doll after her suitor had arrived
was certainly out of place. As to the other parts they could reflect but little
credit on the very best exponents. The concluding piece was a new duologue
by Justin Huntly McCarthy, entitled " Vanity of Vanities," and contained in-
finitely more plot than is generally bestowed on such short pieces. The Princess
Nicholas is an English woman who has allowed ambition to stifle her love for
Morris Hastings. So she marries a prince and wrecks her lover's life. Her
husband dies, but all that wealth and station can give her do not make her
happy. The two meet after five years, she, blase and so weary of the world
that she has determined on committing suicide. He, on his part, is quite willing
to give up an existence that has no value for him, so he says he will die with
her, but, before doing so, he once more pours out his love for her. This gives
her her one desire, and so they come together again, determined to lead better
and purer lives, and not to live for themselves alone. " Vanity of Vanities " is
well written, but gives one the idea of an adaptation, from the French sentiment
that pervades it. Unfortunately, Mr. Herbert Waring was unable to appear as
Morris Hastings, but Mr. Willard read his part admirably, and, notwithstanding
this disadvantage, Miss May Whitty gave a most expressive rendering of the
outwardly worldly Princess Nicholas.

" The Best People," described as a new original comedy, was produced at the
Globe Theatre on Monday afternoon, July 14, when Mrs. Fairfax, an actress of
some reputation in the past, made her last appearance in public. As to the play
itself (the author of which was unannounced), there is no occasion to speak, for it
will certainly not be seen again. One of its many absurdities was a young married
woman disguising herself, singing before and being accepted by the public as a
noted prima donna, and being made love to by her own husband for days
together in that character without his recognising her as his own wife ! Miss
Essex Dane was good as the supposed singer, and Miss Adrienne Dairolles as the
real one. Mr. John Le Hay proved himself as usual an excellent comedian,
possessing dry humour, as Pat, a faithful and inventive Irish page boy.

Mr. Augustin Daly's company appeared at the Lyceum this season six times
in " The Taming of the Shrew," commencing Tuesday evening, July 8. Miss
Ada Rehan once more established her claim to be the best Katharine that we
have seen for years, and Mr. Drew, great as was his former success as Petruchio,
has improved his interpretation of the character, for he has toned down certain
effects that were a little too demonstrative. (It will be remembered that
Shakespeare's comedy was given by the Daly Company in May, 1888, at the
Lyceum, and a full notice of their performance appeared in the July number of
THE THEATRE of that year.) There are not very many important changes in
the cast, excepting that Mr. Charles Wheatleigh now played Christopher Sly

102 THE THEATRE. [AUG. i, 1890.

with much unction, that Mr. George Ormond was most acceptable as Vincentio,
Mr. Will Sampson amusing as the page, and that Miss Edith Crane was a
charming and very sweet Bianca. Sir Henry Bishop's song, " Should he up-
braid," was exquisitely sung by Miss Kitty Cheatham. The very favorable
comments passed on the scenery on the original production of the play by Mr.
Daly, may be emphatically confirmed — nothing could have been more beautiful
than the various stage pictures.

Mdme. Sarah Bernhardt has once more been amongst us, and appeared at Her
Majesty's on Monday evening, June 23, as Jeanne D'Arc in M. Jules Barbier's
" Drame Le'gende " of that name. It was only in the first act, however, that the
great actress had a complete opportunity of holding her audience — the rest is,
for the most part, pageant, and the characters that support the Maid of Orleans
are but insignificant. M. Barbier's work is not dramatic, it is poetic, for his close
adherence to historical truth has cramped his endeavours. M. Gounod's music
adds great charm to the performance. During her stay in London, Mdme.
Bernhardt appeared in " La Dame aux Camelias," " Adrienne Lecouvreur," and
"La Tosca," and had lost none of her attraction in the various characters.

The recitals of " Macbeth" by Mr. Henry Irving and Miss Ellen Terry, at the
St. James's Hall, on the afternoons of June 25 and July 16, were well attended,
and were thoroughly appreciated. The time occupied was just two hours
on each occasion. The murder and the witches' scenes created the greatest
enthusiasm, and considerable surprise was expressed at the lasting power
of Mr. Irving, who, after the arduous task of representing almost all the
characters but one, and keeping them so marvellously distinct, could throw such
vigour into the closing scene with Macduff. From June 30 to July 5, Mr.
Irving and his company appeared before crowded and enthusiastic audiences at
the Grand, Islington, in " The Bells," and during the succeeding week in
" Louis XL," at the same theatre. The only regret was that Miss Terry was
not included in either of the casts.

"Elaine," a daintily written and pretty one-act play, by Mr. Royston Keith,
was produced for the first time at Kilburn Town Hall on June 26. The author,
who himself took the part of his hero, Jack Steele, tells of the young fellow
being engaged to Elaine Gwyn. He has to go abroad, and is supposed to be
lost in shipwreck. Nothing is heard about him for eight years, when a letter,
announcing his return, arrives. Elaine has gone blind, and has adopted a little
girl, Muriel (cleverly played by Miss Bessie Thompson), and teaches her to call
her mother. Muriel thinks that on account of her blindness she should release
Jack from his engagement, and he, knowing that she is not married, yet thinks
that Muriel is her child. The misconceptions are cleared away through the little
girl. The part of Elaine was sympathetically filled by Mrs. Thompson.

The Alhambra is crowded nightly to witness the new ballet " Salandra," in-
vented by Signor Casati, and set to Mons. Jacobi's most tuneful music. Signora
Legnani is the Premiere Danseuse Assoluta, supported by Mile. Marie, Signor
De Vincent and the corps-de-ballet, for which this theatre is now so famous.
The dresses by M. and Mdme. Alias are in perfect taste, and are from designs
by H. Gray. The scenery, too, is very beautiful. The variety entertainment is
well selected and free from anything like vulgarity ; and there is another very
bright ballet, " Zanetta," to wind up with, so that Mr. Charles Morton may be
congratulated on the excellent programme he provides.

Mr. Fred Horner's tenancy of Toole's Theatre came to an end on Thursday,
June 26, and " The Bungalow " was played for the last time in a scene of much
enthusiasm, the popular manager being heartily greeted on his appearing at the
end of the evening. — The Adelphi closed its doors on July 12 witli the " Green
Bushes," and will re-open on August 2 with the new Irish drama by Messrs.
G. B. Sims and Robert Buchanan, which, as at present intended, is to be entitled
"The English Rose." — "A Village Priest" was played for the 103rd time on
Saturday, July 12. Mr. Beerbohm Tree was compelled to close his theatre in
consequence of touring engagements already made, but will re-open it on

" THE THEATRE," AUGUST, 1890.

Photographed by Barruud, Oxtord Street, W-

GROUP FROM "JUDAH."

Miss OLGfl BRKNDON & MR. WILLSRD.

" I love you ! I love you ! "

—JUDAH, Act II.

EOLINQTON A Co., PUBLISHERS,
LONDON.

AUG. 1, 1890.1 OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 103

October 2, and renew the hitherto prosperous run of Mr. Sydney Grundy's play. —
Mr. Augustus Harris has engaged a very strong cast for his autumn production,
which, it is said, is to be entitled " A Million of Money," and which he has
written in collaboration with Mr. Henry Pettitt. Mr. Charles Warner returns
from Australia to take part in it.

Saturday, July 19, saw the last performance at the Gaiety by the Farren-
Leslie Company of " Ruy Bias and the Blase Roue," which has been running
for ten months with great success. Mr. Leslie, in a speech, stated that on the
termination of his engagement with Mr. Edwards, he would swell the list of
actor- managers.

Portraits of Miss Olga Brandon and of Mr. Willard have so recently appeared
in THE THEATRE that in referring to our character portrait of them from
" Judah " that appears in this issue, it is unnecessary for us to do more than record
briefly the powerful impersonation of the hero that has added one more artistic
triumph to the rcle of Mr. Willard's successes, and the touching performance of
Miss Brandon in the part of Vashti Dethic, a performance which has revealed to
us new capacities of the highest possible value and promise in this young actress.

Mr. F. Ramson Buckley draws our attentien to a misstatement in the June
issue of THE THEATRE (Omnibus Box), wherein Mr. Leigh, M.A., is reported
to have appeared to great advantage as Edward III., in an abstract from a
play of that name, given under the title of "The King and the Countess."
Mr. Buckley was himself the clever exponent of the character.

Want of space will prevent our being able to do more than to announce
the production of " A Gold Mine " at the Gaiety, and the qualified success
achieved by Mr. Nat Goodwin, who made his first appearance in England,
Monday, July 21. The piece itself is of the poorest ; but Messrs. William
Farren, Charles Glenny, Harry Eversfield, Frank Wood, Eric Thorne, with
Misses Kate Forsyth, Carlotta Leclercq, and Jennie McNulty, give the best
interpretation possible of it.

New plays produced and important revivals in London, from June 20, 1890,
to July 17, 1890.

(Revivals are marked thus'-"}.
June 23 " Jeanne d'Arc," drame-legende in three parts and six tableaux, by

Jules Barbier. Music by Ch. Gounod.

„ 23 " Salandra," ballet, by Signer Casati. Music by Jacobi. Alhambra,
„ 23 " Dangers of London," melodrama, by F. A. Scudamore. Surrey.

(first time in London).
,, 23 " Work and Wages," drama in five acts, by William Bourne (first

time in London). Pavilion.
„ 24 " Art and Love," comedy in one act, by A. W. Dubourg. Matinee.

Avenue.

„ 24 " Punchinello," one-act play, by Dr. Dabbs. Matinee. Avenue.
„ 24* " Nancy and Co.," comedy in four acts, adapted by Augustin Daly,

from the German " Halbdichter " of Julius Rosen. Lyceum.
„ 26 " Your Wife/' farcical comedy in three acts, adapted by Justin

McCarthy, from Maurice Desvallieres " Prete Moi ta Femme." St.

James's.

„ 26 " Old Friends," comedietta, by Lady Violet Greville. St. James's.
„ 26 " Elaine," one-act play, by Royston Keith. Kilburn Town Hall.
„ 27 " Gyrene," dramatic fancy in three acts, by Alfred C. Calmour.

Matinee. Avenue.
„ 28 " Papa's Honeymoon," three-act farcical comedy, by Sylvani Mayer

and W. B. Tarpey. Matinee. Criterion.
„ 30 " The Cloven Foot," play, dramatized by Jeanette Steer and F.

Mouillot from E. Braddon's novel (first time in London). Pavilion.
July 1 " Vera," drama in four acts, by Mr. Ellis Smith. Matinee. Globe.
,, 1s " Fazio," five-act tragedy, by the Rev. Henry Hart Milman. Matinee.

Strand.

104 THE THEATRE. [AUG. l, 1890.

July 1* "A Sicilian Idyll," play, in two acts, by Professor John Todhunter.

St. George's Hall.
,, 3 "Illusion," original play, in three acts, by Pierre Le Clercq.

Matinee. Strand.
,, 3 " The Solicitor," original farce, in three acts, by J. H. Darnley (first

time in London). Toole's.
,, 4 " Kit Marlowe," play, in one act, by W. L. Courtney. Matinee.

Shaftesbury.
,, 4 "Miss Hoyder's Husband," play, in one act, founded by Augustin

Daly on Sheridan's " Trip to Scarborough " (first time in England).

Matinee. Shaftesbury.
„ 4 " Vanity of Vanities," duologue, by Justin Huntly McCarthy.

Matinee. Shaftesbury.
„ 4° "Adrienne Lecouvreur," five act drama, by Scribe and Legouve.

(French plays. Mdme. Bernhardt.) Her Majesty's.
,, 5 " Sowing and Reaping," comedy, in two acts, by C. Vernon (placed

in the evening bill). Criterion.
„ 5'' " La Dame aux Camelias," five-act drama, by Alexandre Dumas, fils.

(French plays. Mdme. Bernhardt.) Her Majesty's.
„ 8 " Taming of the Shrew," Shakespeare's comedy, represented by the

Daly Company. Lyceum.
,, 9° " La Tosca," five-act drama, by Victorian Sardou. (French plays.

Mdme. Berdhardt.) Her Majesty's.

„ 12 " Sweet Nancy," three act comedy, by Robert Buchanan. Lyric.
„ 12 " An Old Maid's Wooing," one act play, by Arnold Goldsworthy and

A. B. Norman. Lyric.

,, 12 " His Little Mania," farce (author unannounced). AthenaBum Hall.
,, 15 " As You Like It," Shakespeare's comedy, in five acts, represented by

the Daly Company. Lyceum.
„ 16 " Cosi Fan Tutte," comic opera by Mozart (performed by Pupils of

the Royal College of Music. Matinee. Savoy.
,, 17 "How Dreams Come True," sketch by Dr. John Todhunter.

Grosvenor Gallery.

In the Provinces from June 16, 1890, to July 14, 1890.
June 30 "Daughters," comedy in three acts, by T. G. Warren and Willie

Edouin. T.R., Portsmouth.
July 3 "A Young Pretender," farcical comedy, by Barton White. Sanger's

Amphitheatre, Ramsgate.

„ 10 " The Working Man," drama, by H. Hardy. Colosseum, Oldham.
„ 14 " Round the Ring," " dramatic romance of circus life," in four acts,

by Paul Merritt. The Royal, Hull.
In Paris, from June 18, 1890, to July 12, 1890.

June 20° " La Fille de TAir,'1 operetta, in three acts, by Cogniard and Ray-
mond. New couplets by Armand Liorat. New music by M.

Laconee. Folies-Dramatiques.
July 12 " Orient-Express," spectacular play, in four acts, by Paul Burain.

Chatelet.

THE THEATRE.

Why Are We Playgoers ?

BY MARIE CORBETT KILBURN.

do we go to the play ? We do go. Day by day the
theatres multiply and the playgoing public increases.
The stage is a staple topic of conversation at our dinner
and tea tables ; it fills columns of our newspapers ; it is-
one of the most prominent features of the life of the
day.

Of course, it is denounced by an ever diminishing
section of society as a hotbed of unwholesome excitement and social
corruption, while a scarcely larger contingent asserts its claim to be
considered as a lofty ethical and moral influence.

Perhaps most of us are content to defend it from the lower stand-
point of the necessity for recreation ; more especially in these
degenerate dramatic days, when farce and burlesque count the
larger following, and comedy and tragedy are somewhat at a dis-
count. They have a strong minority ; they can afford to wait. The
higher forms of drama will always triumph in the end, but there are
wide lacunae now and then, when a blank of ennui lies over the
stage, when the " sotie," the farce, and the ballet reign supreme, and
audiences have reached that last dismal deep when social tradition,
compels them where they are neither stirred nor amused, where
laughter is almost as socially inadmissible as tears. They are bored
because they come to be bored, to pass an evening with the least
possible amount of mental strain. The houses which cater for such
a public may be vicious or purely vacuous ; they are in any ease not
entitled to be considered seriously as the abode of the Drama, — with
a big D, — but may be classed with music-halls and variety shows.

Otherwise, be it the better kind of farce or tragedy, Burnand or
Shakespeare, they are not so dissimilar in their raison d'etre, in their
grip on the public.

And often as the use of the stage is understated, or overstated, she
does still serve some better cause than merely to amuse. In her
youth she did the Church some useful service, for in the Middle

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI. G

106 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. l, 1890.

Ages it was the Church who waged war with nature and tried to
crush out the natural emotions of mankind, till, finding them too
strong for her, she called in the Drama's aid to appease the cravings
which she could not preach down, preferring to supply the need
rather than to lose the clientele.

Now it is society which represses all show of passion or feeling under
her velvet mask. The nineteenth century is an age at once cynical
and prosaic ; an age which discounts all nobleness of motive, and is
apt to discredit any act of heroism which breaks the even tenor of its
calm respectability. It is quite as fearful of rising above, as of falling
below, the level of average public opinion — rather afraid of the un-
usual than of the vicious, and, in what it considers subversive of all
moral order, rather concerned after all with the order than the
morality.

An age " frigid, decorous, alarmed," as Lord Beaconsfield termed
it, and yet an age which, stripped of its modern trappings, is merely
human after all ; not devoid of the elements of tragedy and comedy,
not incapable of hearty laughter, not insensible to the common bond
of suffering and sorrow which binds its units4ogether. But it is an
age of repression, whose highest heroism is not apparent, consisting,
as it most frequently does, in suffering behind a smile, crushing
down all appearance of agony, and playing an unruffled part before
the world. Society insists on, yet wearies of, this conventionality.
To satisfy the emotional and imaginative side of our natures becomes
a craving which music and the theatre best satisfy in all over-civilized
communities, whether of modern England or ancient Greece. They
lift the veil and, by showing the throbbing of the great human heart
beneath, ease the sense of unreality which oppresses our civilization.
The Spartan boy is too often held up for our admiration and imita-
tion. A whole generation of Spartan boys has a depressing influence
on the world, and, on the whole, it is perhaps more wholesome to
hunt the fox and kill him in the open. In an age of license, the
.«tage may be the ringleader of the roysterers ; in an age of arti-
ficial repression it is the touchstone of feeling and emotion.

Schiller, in his " Aesthetische Erziehung," urges the need of cul-
tivating the capacity for feeling. "Ausbildung des Enpfindungs
•vermogen ist also das dringenderest bediirfniss der Zeit." Nowa-
days, the want is probably still more pressing, and we must own the
;stage as a most potent instrument to this end. For since every
faculty may become atrophied and drop off by constant disuse if we
concentrate our attention on the material aspects of life, our imagina-
tive and reflective powers must suffer.

Nor, while urging the necessity that the drama must be a power of
•" light and leading," must we lose sight of the fact that what public
opinion makes it, that it will be. It is the public after all that
creates the laws of tastes, though it has not the knowledge to formu-
late its code, and the public just now worships respectability — an
excellent servant, but a bad master. For we should be respectable
because we are good, and not good because we are respectable. And

SEPT. i, 1S90.J WHY ARE WE PLAYGOERS? 107

I own to having a lurking feeling of satisfaction sometimes in seeing
our smug society shaken into sympathy with a storm of passion
which outrages all etiquettes and drives Mrs. Grundy behind her fan.
For society is selfish and very often outraged because a thing is in-
convenient, and unusual, and disturbing, though it may be heroic and
chivalrous, and noble (words which are growing to have a strangely
archaic ring about them, which are almost "bad form," and yet
which, in this connection, I cannot do without). No doubt such
•episodes are common enough in the world round us, but we ignore
them. We touch the other lives with which we come in contact at
one point only. We receive an impression from them, but cannot
realise them as a whole. The charm of the stage is that it completes
the picture and lays bare the hidden springs. The present social
tone engenders uniformity. A transatlantic phrase best expresses
our modern ideal, " our level best." That is what we are coming to.
We are smoothing out all the inequalities, and filling up the deficien-
cies ; but we do not see that we are pulling down all the heights — we
are losing some of the miserable deeps il is true, but we are paying
for them with the loss of lofty heroism and sublime genius.

Nor does the new realistic school tend at all — or, if at all, very
little — to satisfy the real needs of the time. Its professed aim is to
show us life as it is ; but its tendency at the moment is certainly to
show only the worst side of our modern civilization. No doubt it is
wholesome for us all to have our vices and our follies held up to us
from time to time in all their unadorned ugliness ; but, nevertheless,
it is in the main the true mission of all art to seek for beauty. True
realism, which dwells only on the nasty, is spurious ; yet that is dis-
tinctly the failing of the naturalists of to-day. In their reaction from
the tendency of a finikin school, which suppressed all that might jar on
an emasculated taste, and which made the " cheek of the young per-
son " the touchstone of excellence in art, they have gone clean over
to the other swing of the pendulum.

Setting aside the larger issues of the question, the microscopical
delineation of every detail of oar lives cannot be defended as either
entertaining or wholesome. There is much in every life history
which would be petty, sordid, and cramping, were our minds to
dwell on it ; but, happily, we are able to develop a large degree of
automatic facility in the mere routine of existence, and the mind is
left free to occupy itself in other ways. Even where this trivial
scrupulosity has the element of prettiness, it is poor art ; it is like a
pretty room — it pleases your taste, but you see how it is all arranged
and the effect produced. It is less healthful than a free landscape,
where your soul may roam more freely in the larger air, where every
day you may discover new beauties, and where even defects seem
more tolerable, because there is more room for them. In a wide
champaign the eye seldom takes in squalid details.

That is what we want on the stage — a school which shall give us a
wide, breezy, healthful view of life, seeing it as a whole, yet with
the true artist's power of selection of what is suitable for his purpose,
and nice sense of proportion and artistic composition.

108 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. 1, 1890.

But above all things let us beware of monstrosities. Some modern
specimens of attenuated wit and overgrown vice can be said to appeal
to no loftier instincts than do the living skeleton and the fat woman
at a country fair.

" My Luggage."

BY HARRIETT JAY.

(Authoi'tss of *The Queen of Connaught" <t-c.)

PART II.

FTER gazing at me for a moment he turned away, andjl
saw his eyes wander to my luckless portmanteau.
Guessing the thought that was passing through his brain,
I rose, left my corner, and sat down opposite to him.

"I am very sorry I spoke as I did just now," I said in
as calm a voice as I could, " but I was so concerned ab
losing my bags — and I — I really thought you were a
robber ! I see my mistake now, and apologise."

I paused trembling, not knowing how my speech would be
received. To my intense relief he replied :

" Ladies have strange fancies ; but you see now, don't you, that by
casting out those bags, I probably saved your life ? "

"Probably," I repeated, for want of something better to say.
" You agree with me, don't you, that it's much better to lose a
little luggage than to lose one's life."
" Certainly I do."

"Then permit me," he continued, taking hold of my portmanteau,
" to be of some slight service to you again."
" Why what are you going to do now ? "
'• I am going to throw out this portmanteau ! "
" But why ? "

" Because the carriage is still too heavily laden ; don't you feel the
oscillation ? "

I replied that I did, but that I attributed it to the increased speed
at which we were travelling.

" That is what you said before," he continued gravely, " but you
know nothing of the laws of gravitation."

SEPT. 1, 1890.] " MY LUG&A&E." 109

Again he made a movement towards my portmanteau, and again I
stopped him.

" Must this go ? " I said.

He replied that it must.

li But wouldn't anything else do as well — there is your luggage for
instance ? "

He replied that he had none, and on glancing round the carriage I
perceived that he was right. It was all mine ; he had not even a
hand-bag that would hold a clean collar.

" Well," I continued, " there are plenty of other things without
this portmanteau. There are my other two bags, there are my rugs,
there are the carriage cushions ; take them all if you like — take any-
thing but this ! "

" But why ? " he asked.

" Because this is of the utmost value to me."

" Madam," he replied gravely, " it is the heaviest."

" Decidedly it is the heaviest," I said, " but if all these other things
were disposed of, perhaps the weight of this .one would not matter so
much after all."

This argument seemed to carry conviction with it ; at any rate, he
was appeased for a time. Abandoning my portmanteau, he turned
his attention to my two remaining bags, which had been safely
tucked away in the rack. First one, then the other, was lifted down
and thrown out of the window ; the cushions of the carriage followed,
then my rugs, until the carriage became a positive wreck, and nothing
was left but my portmanteau, which still lay upon the floor. This
work had not been accomplished without considerable difficulty, for
so rapid was the pace at which we were travelling, and so violent
were the vibrations of the carriage, that my companion could scarcely
keep his feet. However, his work of destruction was completed at
last, and when all was over he sat down to gaze at the result. Every
available light article had been thrown out, but the carriage shook as
violently as before. Again he turned his eyes upon my portmanteau.

" You see I was right," he said, " that portmanteau will certainly
have to go."

I was growing desperate. Determined not to lose this last remnant
of my property without a struggle, I used every persuasive means in
my power ; to no purpose, however. When once my companion had
got an idea, he stuck to it with pertinacity. He had resolved to cast
the portmanteau out, and nothing I could say or do would alter his
determination. At last a brilliant idea struck me.

" Why," I said, " it is much too big. You couldn't possibly get
that through the window ! "

This idea had evidently not occurred to him. He saw in a
moment that I was right ; but his fertile imagination was not
without resource.

"We will open it," he said, "and throw out the things singly."

This at first I positively refused to agree to ; but at length, seeing
that my persistence was beginning to re-arouse his fury, I reluctantly

110 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. i, 1890.

handed him my keys and sat down with a sigh of resignation to
watch his final task of destruction.

He took the keys, unlocked the portmanteau, and lifted the lid ;
then he paused, and gazed with a curious expression at the various
articles of apparel which met his gaze.

First there was a wig — a closely-cropped boy's wig, which was
neatly folded and lay flat from the pressure of the portmanteau lid ;
next came a dress coat, then a waistcoat, then a pair of black trousers.
Each of these articles my companion carefully lifted out ; then he
turned to me with a very puzzled expression on his face.
"Do these things belong to you, madam ? " he asked.
" They do," I replied ; " but before this evening, I suppose they
will belong to some person or persons unknown."

" I mean," he continued in a hesitating kind of way, " do you wear
them ? "

" Of course I have worn them ; but if you carry out your present
intention, I shall probably wear them no more."

Then it was that brilliant idea number two came into my head, and
once more I experienced a kind of relief. After all, my sole object
now was to gain time. If I could only manage to keep my com-
panion in conversation until the train reached its destination, all
further evil might be avoided ; if not — I trembled to think what
further wild idea might enter the man's brain.

The speed of the train seemed to increase with every mile we
travelled, and the vibration of the carriage was by this time really
alarming. Sitting upon the uncushioned seat, I was rocked violently
from side to side ; while my companion, who was kneeling upon the
floor before my open portmanteau, and gazing abstractedly at the
curious mixture of garments which it contained, had some difficulty
in keeping himself from sprawling on the floor. Suddenly he began
to collect some of the things together, a proceeding which I hastened
to stop.

" Will you listen to me for one moment ? " I said, stretching out
my hand and laying it lightly on his shoulder.

He turned towards me at once, and I continued :

" I told you the contents of that portmanteau were of great value
to me, that was why I asked you to leave it till the last. Now you
understand the reason, don't you ? "

He shook his head.

" I certainly do not. They seem to be an extraordinary collection
of articles to belong to a lady."

I laughed rather hysterically, I am afraid, as I replied :

"Yes, to a stranger they must look odd, but the fact is, I am an
actress."

" An actress ? "

"Yes. I am to appear to-night at Mumford, and," I added falter-
ingly, " I am to wear those clothes."

" Indeed ! "

He seemed to be becoming interested ; my spirits rose a little, and
I said :

SEPT. l, 1890. J "MY LUGGAGE." Ill

" It is not a regular engagement — in fact, it is not an engagement
at all ; I am simply to appear to-night in a part I have played a good
deal in London. The piece is to ba done at the Theatre Royal, with
all the original London cast, and as I am one of them, and since it is
to ba for the benefit of a very old f riend of mine, I have come down.
I believe it will be a very great affair. If you throw these things out
of the window, I don't know what will happen, as I shall not be able
to appear at all."

I paused, and my companion, without one word of comment, com-
menced to collect my wardrobe together and roll it into a bundle.

" What are you going to do ? " I asked.

" I am going to cast these things out."

" What, after all I hive told you ? You will bring a terrible
calamity upon my friend ! "

" I cannot help that," he said.

As he spoke I looked at him in wonder. What terrible change had
come over him ? He rose to his feet for a moment and faced me,
fixing his eyes upon my face. As he did so, a horrible feeling of
fear came over me, for I felt that the look in his face meant murder.
To this day I can never understand how it was that I managed to
keep my senses, but I did. I glanced instinstively towards the
check string, and he saw the look.

" If you touch that," he said, " I will kill you."

He cast out of the window every article which the portmanteau
had contained ; then he turned to me.

"Now, madam," he said, "it is your turn."

" My turn ? " I cried.

"Yes," he continued. " I am going to cast you out now."

" Good heavens ! " I cried, making a brave effort to choke down
my fear. " Do you still think the carriage is overloaded ? "

« I do."

" In that casa it is you who should go out," I continued desperately
" You are very much taller than I am, and twice as heavy."

This view of the case seemed by no means pleasing to my travelling,
companion. He himself had evidently no wish to join the majority,
though he had made up his mind to send me there. Nevertheless, I
continued to argue the matter in order to gain time. How long the
argument lasted I don't know ; I only dimly remember saying the
wildest things. I have a recollection of the horror which overcame
me as I saw the face of my companion becoming once more disturbed
by mad fury. I saw him come towards me with outstretched hands,
as if about to grapple with me ; then suddenly the train slackened
its speed, the engine whistled shrilly, and I knew that we were
nearing the station. I fell back on to the seat, and for the first time
in my life I fainted.

When I recovered my senses, I found myself in the waiting-room
of the station, surrounded by an eager and interested crowd. My
first feeling was one of astonishment at finding myself alive, then I
thought of my companion, and asked quickly :

112 THE THEATRE. \ SEPT. l, 1890.

" Where is he ? "

" Oh, he's taken," was the reply.

" Taken ? "

" Yes miss, and he'll be sent back to the asylum by the next train.
He only escaped this morning, and they telegraphed his description at
once. And now, miss, what has he done to you, and what can we do
for you ? "

I gave a brief account of what had occurred, and asked them to
recover for me, if possible, my lost luggage ; then, having ascertained
that my maid had been left behind in London, and feeling sure that
she would follow by the next train, I got into a cab and drove at once
to the hotel, where rooms had been ordered for me. The rooms were
ready, and dinner was awaiting me. Before sitting down to it, how-
ever, I despatched a message to my old friend, the manager of the
Theatre Royal, asking him to come to me at once. I had got half
through my dinner when he walked into the room.

" Anything the matter ? " he asked, looking anxiously into my face.

" Yes, I am sorry to say there is a good deal the matter," I replied.
" I shan't be able to play to-night."

" Not play to-night ? In heaven's name why ? "

" For the best of reasons, I have no wardrobe." Whereupon I gave
Mm a description of what had occurred in the train.

" The madman," I said, " is by this time on his way back to the
asylum, but my clothes are scattered in various places down the line.
What am I to do ? If I were going to play any ordinary part, I
might manage ; but to wear boy's clothes which have not been
specially made for me, is quite out of the question."

Without another word, my friend rose and left me. Half-an-hour
later, I received a little note.

" Dear Kitty," he wrote, " It's all right. I've postponed the benefit. Dormez
Jsicn, and don't dream of the madman. I'll look round in the morning.

— " CIIAKLES MAYLAND."

In the morning I was awakened by my maid bringing in my tea and
the papers. I sipped my tea, opened the paper, and turned to the
advertisement of the Theatre Royal. I found that the benefit had
been postponed "in consequence of an alarming accident to Miss
Katherine Fane ; " while in another part of the paper, I found a long
and very flowery description of my adventure with the lunatic, an
account winding up with the announcement " that I was at present
suffering from nervous prostration, but that I hoped to be able to
appear in a few days."

On going down to breakfast, I found my old friend awaiting me.

" I've fixed the benefit for this day week," he said, " and you don't
move out of Mumford till it's over. This first adventure has done us
good ; a second one might have a contrary effect, so, as you are here,
you will remain here till it's all over."

And I did stay, and a very pleasant week I had on the whole,
though before it came to an end, I was a good deal worried by being

SEPT. 1, 1890.] IN AND OUT OF SHAKESPEARE. in

stared at wherever I went by an excited and eager crowd, for, thanks
to the marvellous advertising powers of Mr. Mayland, my adventure
was soon pretty well known, and I became as great an object of in-
terest as Marwood was when he came down to execute his labours
in the gaol. At length the night of the benefit arrived. As I was
making my way to my dressing-room, I met Mr. Mayland, who in-
formed me, with a beaming smile, that the house was magnificent.
He was in particularly good spirits, so also was I, for my missing
luggage had been recovered, very little, if any, the worse for its ad-
venture. The evening passed off splendidly ; the house was packed
from floor to ceiling, and the piece never went better. When all was
over, Mr. Mayland invited the members of the company to his room,
where we found some champagne. Someone proposed the manager's
health, but Mayland laughingly said :

" I propose the health of a much more important person. Here is
to our friend and benefactor, THE MADMAX."

In and Out of Shakespeare,

By the Author of "Shakespeare Dicerxions."

III. — ORLANDO ix ARDEN.

HAT which Coleridge terms the "mournful alienation of
brotherly love," occasioned by the law of primogeni-
ture in noble families — or rather by the unnecessary
distinctions grafted on it, and this in children of the
same stock — is almost a commonplace in our early
plays. The Orlando and Oliver of " As You Like It,"
have their analogues in " The Scornful Lady " of Beaumont and
Fletcher, and in "The Brothers" of James Shirely (1626), where Fran-
cisco tells Fernando, resenting his claims as senior, that, there being
no inequality in their blood, the law of nature meant they should be
equal :

114 THE THEATRE. SEPT. 1, 1890.

It was first tyranny, then partial custom,

Made you more capable of land. Would you

Be lord of us because you are first-born,

And make our souls your tenants too ? When I've

Named you my elder brother, I exclude

All servitude.

Orlando, in the first scene of " As You Like It," begins to " mutiny
against this servitude." Oliver keeps him " rustically " at home,
"without advantage of education or society. Oliver's horses are bred
better. Oliver feeds Orlando in common with his hinds ; system-
atically, and of malice aforethought, snubs, degrades, and humiliates
him. Is it not time Orlando vel Rolando should play the Roland to
this Oliver ?

At any rate, it is time that the younger brother should quit the old
roof -tree, and se^k a sheltering retreat under the shade of melancholy
boughs, and in what he calls, on first acquaintance, the " desert inac-
cessible " of Arden.

His first experiences in the forest are of a forbidding sort. Old
Adam, his faithful fellow traveller, has fallen by the wayside, fainting
for food ; and Orlando rushes in upon the feasting foresters, with
his sword drawn, and the rude cry, from his impetuous young heart,
doubtful how it may be taken, " Forbear, and eat no more ! " Adam
shall be fed before any more of those viands be consumed. His ne-
cessity shall know no law. But he has lighted on gentlemen, on
gentle men. No need of force to move them to gentleness. Speak
they so gently ? What can the hot youth do, himself of gentle birth,
but blush and hide his sword ?

There is a flavour, but only a rough one, of this scene in the men-
acing questioners and defiant answerers in Scott's " Lord of the
Isles :"—

" How say you if, to wreak the scorn

That pays our kindness harsh return,

We should refuse to share our meal ? "
" Then say we that our swords are steel,

And our vows bind us not to fast

Where gold or force may buy repast ! "

So again, in Sir Walter's " Monastery," young Glendinning plays
Orlando's part of peremptory demand, forgetting the suaviter of ap-
peal in the fortiter of exigent need. " There is no time to expound
anything," said Halbert ; " I tell thee a man's life is at stake, and thou
must come to aid him, or I will carry thee by force." Frederick, in
" Lovers' Vows," translated from Kotzebueby Mrs. Inchbald— which,
if not remembered for any merit of its own, or for Mrs. Inchbald's
sake, is yet safe from absolute oblivion so long as there are readers
of incomparable Jane Austen's " Mansfield Park," — the soldier son
in that translated piece all but opens it by his clamour for relief at
the ale-house door — relief, not for Frederick himself, but for his
fainting mother, sunk famishing along the roadside, like octogenarian
Adam. The landlord is disposed to demur and delay, and indisposed
to deal with so strange a customer ; but a bottle of wine Frederick

SEPT. l, 1890.] IN AND OUT OF SHAKESPEARE. 115

will have— enforcing the order, literally an order, with the monitory
menace, " And be quick about it, or I'll smash every window in your
house ! "

Crabbe's " Hall of Justice " opens with the vagrant's avowal before
the magistrate, that a criminal she is, if crime it be to seize tempting
food for her starving child :

"My crime ! — this sick'ning child to feed,

I seized the food, your witness saw ;
I know your laws forbade the deed,
But yielded to a stronger law."

The atmosphere of Arden, and Elizabethan accents, will be partially
regained, if we turn from Crabbe's unadorned realism to " The Sea
Voyage " of Beaumont and Fletcher, and note how like in tone ta
Orlando's plea ad misericordiam is that pathetically enforced by Se-
bastian : " If ever you have look'd on better days, if ever," etc., for
thus the noble Portuguese delivers himself : —

" If ever pity dwelt in noble hearts, . . .
If ever ye have heard the name of friendship,
Or suffer'd in yourselves the least afflictions,
Have gentle fathers that have bred ye tenderly,
And mothers that have wept for your misfortunes,
Have mercy on our miseries."

And his pleadings, like Orlando's, strike home ; nor is either Se-
bastian in the first act, or Albert in the second, sent empty away,
Albert's entreaty to the Countess is couched in terms to assure her
that, Orlando like, 'tis not for himself he begs thus beseechingly ;
and to others he afterwards appeals in the same strain : —

" Though 'twill appear a wonder, one near starved
Should refuse rest and meat, I must not take
Your noble offer — I left in yonder desert
A virgin almost pined ... I deeply vow'd
Not to taste food or rest, if Fortune brought it me,
Till I blessed her with my return."

Not long has Orlando been in Arden, a welcome guest, ere he be-
gins to carve the name of his mistress on its tree trunks, and to
festoon them with copies of verses by her fair image inspired. Anon
he has to listen to banter from her saucy lips about a man that haunta
the forest, and abuses the young plants with carving Rosalind on
their barks — a man that hangs odes upon hawthorns, and elegies on
brambles ; " all, forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind." So rallies
him his " unexpressive she," in the guise of Ganymede. Yet are th$
carvings dear to her as to himself were those of Mopsus or of Gallua
in Virgil.

The rind of every plant her name shall know,
And as the rind extends, the love shall grow.

Thomson's Damon is for fancying a proud Lycoris (such as tho
Virgilian eclogue assigns to Gallus) in his Musidora. But nothing
of the kind. Musidora not only reads his verses, but approvingly

11G THE THEATRE. [SEPT. 1, 1390.

and assentingly answers them. Tasso's Erminia used often, while
her flock lay under the greenwood shade, to make songs and sonnets
to her knight, " And them engraved in bark of beech and bays," as
Fairfax alliteratively Englished it. The story of the shepherdess,
Marcela, related to Don Quixote by the goat-herd Pedro, includes
mention of some two dozen of tall beeches near her dwelling, not one
of which but has her name engraven on its smooth bark. The Don
himself, in his moody self-questionings anent Dulcinea, half repents
molesting trees that never did him harm, but goes on barking and
carving on them all the same. And even in the penultimate chapter
of his strange eventful history, and on the eve of his fatal sickness,
we find the emaciated knight heartily assenting to his companions'
plan of severally cutting on the bark of every tree they come near
the name of the shepherdess beloved by each.

Prior's Henry — a Henry that at once suggests Emma — sets to work
with a will (and a knife) at a spreading beech in a verdant glade,
and joys to see the " tender mark " grow with the year and widen
with the bark. Justice Woodcock (" Love in a Village ") desires to
know if Rosina has a hankering after some lover in dowlas, who
spoils his worship's trees by engraving true-lovers' knots upon them,
with your horn and buck-handled knives. The action of time on
the carving, the course of bark, is a theme after " Ingoldsby's " own
heart : —

Ay, here stands the Poplar, so tall and so stately,
On whose tender rind — 'twas a little one then —

We carved our initials, though not very lately,
We think in the great eighteen hundred and ten.

Yes, lost is the G which proclaim'd Georgiana,

Our heart's empress then ; see, 'tis grown all askew ;

And it's not without grief we perforce entertain a
Conviction, it now looks much more like a Q.

No doubt there might be deciphered other such Q's from all quar-
ters. But the Ingoldsby carver is confessedly given to change, and
is no more proof against time than initial G's are, in wood-carving.
He is not " Faithful for Ever," like the hero of the poem so entitled,
who can refer back a whole decade with a clear conscience, and
invite his mistress to share in that retrospectivere view : ecce signum !

Upon a beech he bids her mark where, ten years since, he carved her name ;
It grows there with the growing bark, and in his heart it grows the same.

It is ill analogy rather with Mr. Barham's strain than with Mr.
Coventry Patmore's, that an American bard records the result of
revisiting in middle life the gray old birch whereon he had whittled
his schoolboy name, remembering how small his shadow fell, as he
painfully reached and wrote a sign for futurity ; and now, stooping
a little, he discovered but a half-healed, curious wound — an ancient
scar in the bark, but no initial of his. Hood is more " punny " than
pathetic — he could be both in one — when he details the unavailing
cuttings and carvings, the " love's labours lost " of hapless John in
" Bianca's Dream : " —

SEPT. l, 1890., PIT AND GALLERY WIT. 117

In vain he labour'd thro' the sylvan park,

Bianca haunted in — that where she came,
Her learned eyes in wandering might mark

The twisted cypher of her maiden name.
Wholesomely going thro' a course of bark :

No one was touch'd or troubled by his flame,
Except the Dryads, those old maids that grow
In trees, like wooden dolls in embryo.

The late Dr. George Wilson was fond of stopping to gaze, in the
Museum of Kew Gardens, at what he called a " strange and touching
memorial " of the fidelity with which a living tree will preserve, and
perpetuate by reproduction, the record confided to it. On the inner
liber, or book-bark, someone a century or more ago had carved two
letters of the alphabet, with the date attached. Long since the carver
has died into dust, but the tree, faithful to its charge, has not only
preserved the letters unharmed, but, as if they were dear to the
Hamadryad who dwelt in its branches, has slowly drawn a veil of
bark over the inscription, and made a copy of the letters in relief on
this cover. There are tree trunks as well as airy voices that mys-
teriously syllable men's names.

Pit and Gallery Wit.

HE patrons of the drama are pre-eminent for their humour,
a humour which is frequently remarkable for its originality,
its spontaneousness, and often for its severity. Although,
as a rule, it will not bear transcribing, there is much that
has been recorded. Many a dull paragraph and unin-
teresting chapter relating to stage history has been en-
livened by the saying of a gallery god or a wag in the

pit, which oftentimes, nevertheless, loses in print half of its racy

flavour.

It is said that,

" Care to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt,
Then every grin so merry draws it out."

If this be the case, the play-going public, in these times of long
faces and melancholy sorrowings, are undoubtedly indebted to those
wits who by their harmless squibs help us to while away a long in-
terval, maybe ; who reprimand the actor when in error ; who relieve
the anxiety of the manager when a scene does not work right, or a

118 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. l, 1890.

spectator misbehaves himself. An impromptu often restores order,
and produces a broad grin of satisfaction on the general countenance.

During the performance of the opera of "Africa," in 1697, an
impudent fellow kept singing in the pit, and so loudly that he
annoyed all his neighbours. One of them, a Gascon, less patient
than the rest, stood up and exclaimed, " Turn out the fool — the
wretched singer — the noisy block-head ! " and so on. " Is it to me,
sir," said the singer, turning to him, " that you speak " ? " Oh, not
at all," said the Gascon, " it is to these rascally singers on the stage,
who won't let us hear you."

When Thomson's tragedy of " Sophonisba " was brought out at
Drury Lane, there was only one weak line in it, which a wag in the
pit caused the poet to correct immediately. The hero pathetically
exclaims :

" Oh ! Sophonisba, Sophonisba, oh ! "

The pittite immediately, in the same tone of voice as the actor's
echoed :

" Oh ! Jemmy Thomson, Jemmy Thomson, oh ! "

Sophocles' tragedy of " Antigone " was produced at the Theatre
Royal, Dublin, once, with Mendelssohn's music, and the "gods"
were greatly pleased, and, according to their custom, called for the
author. " Bring out Sapherclaze ! " they yelled. The manager ex-
plained that Sophocles had been dead two thousand years and more,
and could not well come. Thereat a voice shouted from the gallery,
*" Then chuck us out his mummy ! "

On one of the first nights of the opera of " Cymon," at Drury Lane,
a dissatisfied critic, when Mr. Vernon began the last air in the fourth
act,

" Torn from me ! torn from me ! Which way did they take her ? "

immediately sang, in the exact time of the air, to the astonishment
of the audience,

" Why, towards Long Acre, towards Long Acre ! "

Vernon was for the moment stunned ; but, recovering himself, he
Sang in rejoinder,

" Ho ! ho ! did they so ? Then I'll overtake her ! I'll soon overtake her ! "

and precipitately ran off amid the plaudits of the whole house.

The celebrated Baron, in the part of Agamemnon, pronouncing the
opening verse in a very low voice, the pit began to call out " Louder,
louder I " The actor, with great coolness, replied, " If I spoke it
louder I should speak it worse," and continued his part.

In " Sancho Panza," a comedy in three acts, by Dufreni, the Duke
•fiays, at the beginning of the third act, "I begin to get tired of
Sancho." "So do I," said a wag in the pit, taking his hat and
walking out. This sealed the fate of the piece.

The actor Beaubourg, who was extremely ugly, was playing the part
Of Mithridates, in Racine's play, when Madame Lecouvreur, who played

SEPT. i, 1890.] PIT AND GALLERY WIT. 119

that of Monime, said, "Ah, sire, you change countenance." A wag
in the pit exclaimed, " Let him do so ; don't stop him."

When John Reeve was playing Bombastes at Bristol, upon being
stabbed by Artixommus, he denied the fairness of the thrust, and,
appealing to the pit, said, " It is not fair, is it ? " A bald-headed
gentleman, who, probably, took the whole representation to be
serious, and to whom Reeve directed his glance, replied, "Really
sir, I cannot say, for I don't fence."

Davies, in his history of the stage, gives an illustration of Quin's
acting. When Lothario gave Horatio the challenge, instead of
accepting it instantly, with the determined and unembarrassed bow
of superior bravery, Quin made a long pause, and dragged out the
words :

" I'll meet thee there ! "

in such a manner as to make it appear absolutely ludicrous. He
paused so long before he spoke, that somebody, it was said, called
out from the gallery, "Why don't you tell the little gentleman
whether you'll meet him or not ? "

In the early display of Garrick's powers at Drury Lane, a tragedy
was brought forth, in which he sustained the character of an aged
king. Though there was nothing remarkably brilliant in the play,
it proceeded without opposition till the fifth act, in which the dying
monarch bequeaths his kingdom to his two sons, in this line —

"And now between you I bequeath my crown."
When a wicked wit in the pit exclaimed :

"Ye Gods ! he's given them half-a-crown a-piece !"

This threw the house into such a comic convulsion, that not another
word of the piece could be uttered.

An amusing incident, illustrative of the force of stage illusion, is
reported from Leicester, where, at the Opera House, a female pittite
so thoroughly realised the scene in "The Lights o' London," in
which Armytage charges his son with having attemped to murder
him, as to be induced to put the mistaken parent right by the public
statement, " It was them two at the b9ck who did it."

During a performance of "Othello," at the Prince of Wales
Theatre, Birmingham, recently, in the bed-chamber scene in the last
act, where Othello, in his wild dispair, is in the act of taking the life
of his wife, an old lady in the pit broke the stillnes of the tragic
scene, and caused a good deal of amusement at an inopportune
moment by making a dash towards the stage, exclaiming, " Oh, you
wretch ! "

Barry Sullivan, the Irish tragedian, was playing in " Richard III."
some years ago at Shrewsbury. When he came to the line, —

" A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! "

someone in the pit called out, "Wouldn't a donkey suit you, Mr.
Sullivan ? " "Yes," responded the tragedian, turning quickly on the
interrupter, " please come round to the stage door."

THE THEATRE. [SEPT. 1, 1890.

A novel unrehearsed incident was introduced into the play of
" Sophia," at the Theatre Royal, Oldhain, some time ago. Tom
Jones, in the person of Mr. M. Brodie, as usual said to Sophia
Weston (Miss Maude Millett), "I have nothing left to offer you — not
even the hope of better days to come ; " but, in saying so, he
reckoned without his landlady. That very realistic and emotional
person was in the circle, and her lodger's pathos was too much for her.
" Never heed, lad," she sang out at the top of a very shrill voice.
" Thee has gotten a real good sooper waiting at home ; thee bring
t'wench wi'thee."

The following cause for thankfulness is given in Harper's
Magazine : " In the Theatre Royal, Dublin, when the Italian Com-
pany came to play "Faust," the actor who took the part of
Mephistopheles, neglected to try the size of the trap-door by which
he was supposed to descend into the infernal regions. His figure,
which 'he had not lost, but which had gone before,' was too large for
the opening, and at the supreme moment, he discovered that he could
not get down above his waist. To heighten the awkwardness of the
situation, and to relieve the strained feelings of the audience, one of
the gods in the gallery, in a rich Irish brogue, exclaimed, " Begorra !
hell's full."

The old Coburg Theatre, under the management of Glossop and
others, enjoyed an unenviable celebrity for attention to anything but
"words, phrases, and grammar." On one occasion the scenes stuck
in the grooves, and the gods were much offended at beholding the
halves of a^house with an interstice of a yard or so between them;
at length a sweep called out, "We don't expect no good grammar
here, but hang it, you might close the scenes."

A tall man stood up in the middle of the pit of a London theatre.
There was a general cry of " Sit down ! turn him out ! " But it was all
in vain; he retained his position. "Leave him alone, poor fellow,"
said a man in a strong voice ; " he is a tailor resting himself."

When there was great distress in Staffordshire, Henry Russell gave
a performance in aid of the sufferers. He took his seat at the piano
— a local musician named Simpson being at his side — and struck up
the chorus of his song :

" There's a good time coming, boys ;
Wait a little longer ! "

At the words, "Wait a little longer," an emaciated man rose in the
centre of the pit, and called out, /'Master 'Ursall, can yer fix th'
toime?" " Shoot oop!" bawled Simpson from the platform ; "he'll
wroite to yer."

The same singer was once warbling: the "Gambler's Wife," when
having come to the part descriptive of the dying wife listening with
strained hearing for the footfall of her husband, a woman jumped up
in the pit, and shaking her^fist at Mr. Russell,' shouted, "Wouldn't I
have fetched him home ! "

Braham's father's name was Abraham ; by his odd figure and face
he had gained the nickname of "Abe Punch." One night Braharn

KEPT. 1, isco.] PIT AND GALLERY WIT. 121

acted in the "Siege of Belgrade," a piece in which, as the hero, he is
supposed to be inquiring for his father. The scene represented an
inn. The great tenor entered, with a bundle slung to a stick on his
shoulder: "I have been traversing this desolate country for days
with no friend to cheer me. (Sits). I am weary — yet no rest, no
food, scarcely life — oh ! heaven, pity me. Shall I ever realise my
hopes? (Knocks on the table). What ho, there, house! (Knocks
••again). Will no one come ?" (Enter Landlord). " I beg pardon, sir,
tmt — (starts) — I know that face (aside), What can I do for you, sir?
Shall it be supper." Braham : " Gracious heaven ! 'tis he— the voice
— the look — the (with calmness) — yes, I want food." Landlord:
<{ Tell me what brings one so young as thou appearest to be through
this dangerous forest ? " Braham : " I will. For days, for months,
•oh ! for years, I have been in search of my father." Landlord :
•"Your father!" Braham: "Yes! my father. 'Tis strange — but
that voice — that look — that figure — tell me — that you are my father."
Landlord: "No, I tell thee no; I am not thy father." Braham:
"Heaven protect me! Who, tell me, wlio is my father?" Scarcely
had Braham put this question when a little Jew stood up in an ex-
cited manner in the midst of a densely crowded pit and exclaimed,
"I knowed yer farder veil. His name vas Abey Punch !" The per-
formance was suspended for some minutes in the roars of laughter
that followed this revelation.

In a provincial theatre, where '' Macbeth " was being recently played
by a clever man, who was also a very great favourite with his
audience, in the banquet scene he had delivered his words to the
ghost of Banquo, " Hence, hence, hence ! " when he dropped on his
knee, covering his face with his robe, and shuddering convulsively.
Just as the applause was over, a youth in the gallery, carried away
by the intensity of the acting, cried out, " It's all right now, Wilkins,
he's gone ! "

Grimaldi was once hissed at Sadler's Wells after singing his
celebrated comic song of "Tippitywitchet,'' and he appealed to the
audience. He had nodded, he said, frowned, sneezed, choked, gaped,
cried, grinned, grimaced, and hiccoughed ; he had done all that could
be done by brow, chin, cheeks, eyes, nose, and mouth — and what
more did they want ? "Why," yawned a languid voice from the pit,
"we want a new feature ! "

Somewhere about the year 1847 Charles Webb was playing an en-
gagement at the old Chatham Theatre, New York. He had at that
time become quite a favourite in the larger cities of the Union, and
to the ordinary playgoer he was equal to the very best in histrionic
ability. Duiing the New York engagement he became quite intimate
with a great-hearted young fish-dealer doing business in Washington
Market. Charley had gone out in Shapleigh's boat several times on
fishing and ducking excursions, and in other ways their friendship
had become, cemented. The fish-dealer was a genius in more ways
than one. In his younger days he had belonged to a juvenile
dramatic company ; and now, in his manhood, since making Webb's

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI. H

122 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. l, 1890.

acquaintance, he had been behind the curtain during rehearsal, and
had really fancied that he would "dearly love to appear just once.'r
Webb became satisfied that Shapleigh could act, and was willing to
please him ; and it so happened that an oportunity presented itself
which had not been anticipated. The night of Charley's benefit had
been fixed, on which occasion he was to enact the character of
Hamlet. The actor who had been set apart for the character of
Polonius was unexpectedly called away, in which emergency Webb
sought his friend at Washington Market, and asked him if he would
help him. Shapleigh was only too glad to do it. The eventful night
came, and a front box had been reserved for Shapleigh's wife and
little daughter, and other relatives and friends. The house was filled
— packed from pit-railing to gallery bulkhead, with every bit of
standing-room occupied. The play commenced, and all went well,
the beneficiary receiving round after round of cheering applause on
his entrance ; and it was the same with the kind friend who had "so
magnanimously volunteered his valuable services." The first act
went off smoothly. In the second act, scene second, Polonius is on
the stage, with king and queen, when to them enters Hamlet, reading
from a book. King and queen are unceremoniously hustled out of
the way. Then Polonius to Hamlet : " How does my good lord
Hamlet ? " Hamlet : " Well, God-a-mercy." Polonius : " Do you
know me, my lord ? " Hamlet : " Excellent well. You are a fish-
monger." Hearing this, the indignation of Shapleigh's wife was
aroused ; and, forgetting all else but the direct insult offered to her
husband, she exclaimed, loud enough to be heard in every part of the
house. " Well, it ain't very pretty of you, Mr. Webb, after Tom has-
been so good to you, to go showimg him up in public in that fashion.
I'd have you know that a fishmonger, as you call 'em, is as good as an
actor any day ! " It had all been uttered at a breath, and had
increased in feeling and vigour as she went on. For a moment after
she had ceased, a wondering silence fell upon the house. That
moment was caught by Shapleigh, whose wits had not forsaken him,
and, looking up towards his wife's box, he said, with an assuring
nod, " It's all right, Bessie. It's so in the book." And then, the
secret out, the house " came down."

On the last occasion Kean played Louis XI. in Edinburgh, at the
Theatre Royal, after the attendants had proclaimed, " The King is
dead," a devout Irishman exclaimed, " And may the Lord have mercy
on his guilty sowl ! " as for the .moment he thought that the scene
was real. Equally trying to the actor's serenity must have been the
gallery commentary upon a Dunedin Cassio's lamentation : "0, that
men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their
brains ! " coming in the significant shape of : " All right, old man ;
drink away ; you're safe."

SEPT. 1, 181*0.

PIT AND GALLERY WIT.

123

Love, Is It Well With Thee ?

BY W. S. SMITH-TYLER.

OVE, is it well with thee these many years,
Since from my life you passed away in tears,
For sake of those lost days, dear, answer me,
Love, is it well with thee ?

See through the earth the flowers begin to start.,
v*» - Spring in the world, but winter in the heart I
Deaf are mine ears to all Spring's melody,
Listening, love, for thee.

Lo, like a sinking ship, the sun goes down,
In waves of light above the meadows brown.
Flooding with crimson glow the restless sea,
That flows 'twixt you and me.

What have we gained or lost since last we met ?
Only the sadness of divine regret,
The longing for the days that may not be,
Again, for you and me.

But when, at last, each storm-rent sail is furled,
In that still harbour of the unseen world,
We two will meet and I will say to thee
"'TYs, well, for you and me."

THE THEATRE. LSEPT. 1, 1390.

Annals of the Bath Stage,

BY WALTER CALYERT.

PART IV.
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY (continued).

HE inconvenience of " Mr. Simpson's theatre " under the
old Assembly Rooms as time grew apace, was great, both
in point of situation and dimensions ; and it suggested to
the manager of the rooms, John Hippisley, the idea of
attempting a new one upon a larger scale and in a better
place. Accordingly in November, 1747, he digested his
plan and submitted his proposals to the public, which, owing to his
death at this time, met with little encouragement, till the owner of
the existing inconvenient play-room engaged never again to let it for
-dramatic purposes, on condition that a new and commodious theatre
•were built.

One John Palmer, an eminent brewer and tallow chandler of the
•city, conceiving that an edifice of this nature would be much to its
advantage, prevailed on nine other of the citizens to unite with him
in a subscription for that purpose, and issued in March, 1748, an
elaborate advertisement, embodying a scheme which was ultimately
carried into execution, but not in accordance with the promise given,
which was that the building should be begun when fifteen out of
twenty shares of £50 apiece had been subscribed, for the theatre was
not built for some time afterwards. It was, however, ultimately
•erected in Orchard Street, and opened about the commencement of
the season of 1750, and subsequently became the nursery for the
metropolitan theatres and the scene of some of the greatest triumphs
of the English stage.

FOOTE'S FIRST PLAY.

After Foote had opened the Haymarket Theatre in 1747 with some
very humorous imitations of well-known individuals, thereby
discovering where his strength lay, he wrote several two-act
farces. The satire of his first published piece, "The Knights," was
the result of a visit to Bath. He had, some years previously, in one
of the Oxford vacations, visited the city, whose gaieties and theatrical
tastes must have consorted with his humour, and in writing his first
piece he must have drawn the characters from persons with whom
lie met during his sojourn in Bath. One of the two leading characters

SEPT. i, 1890.] ANNALS OF THE BATH STAGE. 125

in the above play is a country politician and nows-hunter, Sir Gregory
Gazette, who is hoaxed with the information that there are in London
150 newspapers published in a week ! A more striking oddity is
Sir Penurious Trifle, — Foote, like all spendthrifts, was ever hardest
upon misers — who is shaved by his barber once a fortnight for the
year's growth of his own hair and his daughter's ; his shoes are made
with the leather of a coach of his grandfather's ; his male servant is- •
footman, groom, carter, coachman, and tailor ; and his maid takes in,
needlework from the neighbours, the proceeds being paid to Sir
Penurious, who, to give her more time with his daughter, scours the
rooms and makes the beds. He is fond of a story, which he has no
sooner heard than he repeats. He continues to lead up to the follow-
ing story, on replying to a remark that he looks well, " hearty as an
oak " — when follows a rigmarole which " will make you die with
laughing" ; he heard it in a coffee-house at Bath. It is very long, this,
being only its close — an admirable specimen of the sort of story-
telling in which Foote excelled, though its effect must be happier
upon an audience than a reader : — ;

" Lord Tom told us the story ; made us die with laughing ; it cost me
eightpence, though I had breakfast at home : so, you Knight, when Noll diedv
Monk there, you, afterwards Albemarle, in the north, brought him back : you,,
the Cavaliers, you have heard of them ; they were friends to the Stewarts, what did
they do ? 'Gad, you Dick, but they put up Charles in a sign, the royal oak; you
have seen such signs at country ale-houses : so, 'Gad, you, what does a puritan
do, the puritans were friends to Noll, but he puts up the sign of an owl in the
ivy bush, land underneath he writes, ' This is not the royal oak :' [you have seen
writings under signs, you Knight ; upon this, says the royalists, 'Gad this must
not be ; so, you, what do they do, but, 'Gad, they prosecuted the poor puritan ;
but they made him change his sign, though ; and, you Dick, how do you think
he changed ? 'Gad, he puts up the royal oak, and underneath he writes, ' This,
is not the owl in the ivy-bush.' It made us all die with laughing."

Sir Penurious was played by Foote himself, who, his biographer
Cooke tells us, dressed it after a certain gentleman in the West of
England, whose peculiarities Foote closely took off with indescribable
humour ; and he owned to having copied both the miser and the
newsmonger from persons he had met with in his summer expedi-
tion.*

* Foote was a constant visitor to Bath, and many are the anecdotes which refer to
his sojourns. With the £4,000 he made of the " Devil upon Two Sticks," he visited
Bath and lost it all at play to a company of blacklegs, so that the " Devil" was well
revenged for the liberties which had been taken with his individuality. On one
occasion Foote met the celebrated gambler Baron B — , well-known by the name of
" The left-handed baron," who a short time before had been detected in secreting a
card, the company in the warmth of their resentment throwing him out of a one-pair-
of-stairs room, where they had been playing. The Baron loudly complained of this
usage, and asked Foote what he should do. "Do," says the wit, "why it is a plain
case : never play so high again as long as you live." — A Bath physician confided to
the actor that he had a mind to publish a volume of poems, " but," he added, "I have
so many irons in the fire I don't know what to do." " Then take my advice," re-
joined Foote, " and let your poems keep company with the rest of your irons." — The
first female historian, Mrs. Macauley, who wrote a sensible History of England at
her residence in Bath, was less fortunate in the title of a pamphlet which she also-
published, entitled " Loose Thoughts." The infelicitous choice was objected to in
the presence of Foote, who drily observed that he did not see any objection to it. for
the sooner Mrs. Macauley got rid of her loose thoughts the better. — Anecdotes of
BatTi.

125

THE THEATRE.

[SEPT. 1, 1890.

MRS. SHERIDAN'S "JOURNEY TO BATH."

In 1749, Francis Sheridan, the mother of Richard Brinsley, wrote
the lively comedy of the " Journey to Bath," which was neither pub-
lished nor acted. The holograph original of this play was presented
to the British Museum in 1864, where it is now to be seen by referring
to No. 25,975. It is said in Moore's " Life of Sheridan " that this play
was the source of her son's " Rivals." On comparing the two, the
only likeness to be found is in the characters of Mrs. Surface and Mrs.
Tryfoot. The former is one who keeps a lodging-house at Bath, who
is a scandal-monger, but hates scandal ; Sheridan used both name and
the character in his later and more brilliant comedy. The character
of Mrs. Tryfoot, a citizen's widow, seems to have been the forerunner
of Mrs. Malaprop. The scene of both pieces is laid at Bath, and here
the similarity ends. Mrs. Sheridan was as blind as her husband to
the cleverness of her younger son ; dying when he was fifteen, she
had not the pleasure of being undeceived, as her husband was, when
the boy, who had been dubbed an impenetrable dunce, became the
most admired dramatist of his time.

PRIOR PARK AND ITS ASSOCIATIONS.

If Dante and the great divines and painters " made " Florence, so
the single-minded, noble-hearted Ralph Allen may be said to have

rmoR PAHK.

" made " Bath. He was a man who did more for the permanent
prosperity of the city than any other of the worthies of the last cen-

SEPT. 1, 1890.] ANNALS OF THE BATH STAGE. 127

frury. Possessed of a most benevolent disposition, Allen's celebrity
in a great measure rests upon the fact of his intimacy with and un-
ostentatious acts of kindness towards men, who, at the outset of their
career, needed a friend, and who, by their talents and exertions, sub-
sequently became both good and great. Having accumulated a vast
fortune from the invention of a system of cross-posts, by which the
government ultimately gained £20,000 per annum, he erected, in
1743, in the neighbourhood of Bath, the stately mansion of Prior
Park, and here he entertained the wits and literati of the age, among
whom may be mentioned G-arrick, Graves, Fielding, Pitt, Pope, Quin,
Smollett, Sterne, Walpole, Wood, Warburton*, and the eccentric
Princess Amelia.

Amidst this constellation of friends, Pope shone the distinguished
star ; he had become intimate with Allen from the personal advances
of the latter, in consequence of an esteem he had conceived for him
on reading the surreptitious edition of his letters in 1734. In the
"Epilogue to the Satires," published in 1738, Pope thus spoke of his
friend :

" Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame
Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame."

Allen had for a neighbour Sarah Fielding, f the authoress of " David
Simple," "Lives of Cleopatra and Octavia," " History of Ophelia " (2
vols.), and other works. Whenever her brother Henry Fielding visited
Bath they were constant visitors at Prior Park. Henry wrote the
greater part of his novel " Tom Jones " during his residence in Bath,
and the principal scenes in the book are described as occurring at
Claverton, and his patron Allen was the prototype of Squire Allworthy
of the tale. The novelist dedicated "Amelia " to this worthy man.
Bishop Hurd, in a letter to Balguy, describes meeting Fielding at
Allen's residence, whom he calls "a poor, emaciated, worn-out rake,
whose gout and infirmities have got the better even of his buffoonery."
The dramatist, or rather novelist, for on the whole his genius was
much better suited to the writing of novels than plays, of which he
wrote twenty-six, had vitality enough, however, to last four years-
after this opinion was passed upon him.

* Being one day at dinner with Allen, Pope had a letter put into his hand by one
of the footmen. The poet on reading it shook hisihead. " What occasions your per-
plexity?" said Allen. "A Lincolnshire Clergyman," said he, " to whom I am much
obliged, writes me a word that he will be with me in a few days at Twickenham."
"If that be all, Mr. Pope, request him to come to us; my carriage shall meet him at
Chippenham, and bring him hither." The plan was approved by Pope, and the in-
vitation accepted by Warburton. The clergyman had defended Pope's fine poem
"The Essay of Man," from the attacks of a French critic, and this- led to an
acquaintance with the poet. It is curious to notify on what a trifling accident hia
destiny depended. In consequence of his visit to Allen's residence, he became
Bishop of Gloucester, the husband of Allen's niece, in whose right he succeeded
to the bulk of Allen's property. At Prior Park he produced some of those
profound literary labours, which will be an ornament to the English language as
long as they exist. His voluminous correspondence with the English Roscius. dated
from Bath, is given in Boaden's " Life and Correspondence of DavidGrarrick." (2 vols.)

f Sarah Fielding died in Bath wick Street, 1763, and was buried in Charcombe
Churchyard. There is a tablet to her memory in the Abbey with an inaccurately
dated epitaph written by Bishop John Hoadloy.

12$ THE THEATRE. ;SKPT. l, 1890-,

When Warburton projected his edition of Shakespeare, the matter
was mentioned in the green-room. " He had better," growled Quin,,
" stick to his own Bible, and leave ours to us ! "

Quin occasionally visited Prior Park, where he met Bishop War-
burton, whom he scorched by the fire of his wit. The prelate, in his-
talk with Quin before the company, always addressed him in such a
way as to remind him that he was but a player ; and as some accounts*
say, took opportunities of admonishing him on his luxury and loose-
ness of life.

One evening, however, with much apparent civility, he requested
Quin, whom he should never see on the stage, to give him a specimen
of his acting, in presence of a large number of guests, in Ralph Allen's
drawing room. Quin replied carelessly that plays were then almost
out of his head, but that he believed he could repeat a few verses of
" Venice Preserved," and standing up declaimed, ore rotundo, the
passage in which occur the lines

" Honest men

Are the soft easy cushions on which knaves
Repose and fatten."

As he pronounced the words u honest men " and " knaves," he directed
his looks so pointedly towards Allen and Warburton, that none of the
hearers could mistake the intended application. Warburton never
afterwards asked the actor for a specimen of his skill.

The dignity of the profession by which he worked such magic was
dear to him. On a similar occasion at Bath, a nobleman who enjoyed
his wit said to him, " What a pity it is, Mr. Quin, that you are an
actor ! " " An actor I " exclaimed James, " why what would you
have me be— a Lord ? "

The following occurrence between the prelate and the player, also
took place at Prior Park, as told by Walpole. " The saucy priest,"
says he, " was haranguing at Bath in behalf of prerogative. Quin said,
' Pray, my lord, spare me ; you are not acquainted with my principles,
I am a Republican and perhaps I even think that the execution of
Charles I* might be justified.' ' Aye,' said Warburton, * by what
law ? ' Quin replied, ' By all the laws that he had left them.' The
Bishop would have got off upon judgments, and bade the player re-
member that all regicides came to violent ends — a lie, but no matter,
' I would not advise your lordship,' said Quin, ' to make use of that
inference ; for, if I am not mistaken, that was the case of the twelve
apostles.' There was great wit ad hominem in the latter reply, but I
think the former equal to anything I ever heard."

Allen was a patron of the Bath drama, and frequently went to the.
play with his distinguished guests, and even visited the miserable
little theatre in Kingsinead Street, which was honoured on one
occasion by the presence of Royalty.

* Quin used to say that every king in Europe would rise with a crick in his neck
on the 30th of January. (King Charles's Martyrdom, 1730.)

SJIPT. i, 1890.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 129

" July 16, 1750. — Thursday in the evening their Royal Highnesses (the prince
and princess of Wales) drank Tea at Ralph Allen's Esq. ; and afterwards went
to the play, and saw the Tragedy of Tamerlane performed by Mr. Sinnett's-
Company, at the command of Lady Augusta."

The new theatre, no doubt, proved the death blow of the above
play-room, and we lose sight of the latter after about August,.
1751, in which month we read that "a company of comedians"
was at the theatre ; and they were announced on a particular date to-
appear in " Richard the Third," when the part of the King was " to be
attempted by Mr. Cartwright."

(To be continued).

©uv

"A GOLD MINE."

Original comedy, in three acts, by BRANDER MATTHEWS and GEORGE H. JESSOP.
Produced for the first time in England at the Gaiety Theatre, Monday evening, July 21, 1890.
Silas K. Woolcott .. Mr. NAT C. GOODWIN. Julius Krebs .. .. Mr. FRANK WOOD.

Wilson Mr. ERIO THORNE.

TheHon.Mrs.Meredith Miss KATE FOHSYTH.

Sir Everard Foxwood, ) , ,„ Wrr T T , „ „ . __„„

T>O_» 5 Mr. WILLIAM jpARKlA.

Bart.
Gerald Riordan, M.P. Mr. CHARLES GLENNY.

George Foxwood . . [ Mr" *A*RY E VKRS'

(

Mrs. Vandervas . . . . | ^O^XIOVSA.

Miss Una Foxwood . . Miss JENNIE McNULTY.

Once more we find that plays which are so successful in America
fail to give satisfaction here, and vice-versa. " A Gold Mine " was-
specially written for Mr. Goodwin, who made his debut in it in this
country. It was a great favourite with the New York playgoers, and
yet to us it seemed to be very far from being an average play. There
is really no plot, the characters are extravagantly drawn, and most of
the j okes are as old as the hills ; some are incomprehensible to Londoners.
Silas K. Woolcott may be very good-hearted, but he cannot be quite
as " spry " as those gentlemen who have knocked around the world,
and been everything by turn, generally are supposed to be. After
various ups and downs, he discovers a gold mine, and comes to Eng-
land to dispose of it. He has an introduction to Sir Everard Fox-
wood, a company promoter. Woolcott asks £20,000 ; the city man
will only bid £15,000. At Sir Everard's house he meets an old
friend, Gerald Riordan, who is courting Una. He also meets young
George Foxwood, to whom he takes a great fancy, and, most impor-
tant of all, he loses his heart to the Hon. Mrs. Meredith, a very
charming woman certainly, but one who appears to take a delight in
snubbing him. However, his love for her is so great that when
young George Foxwood is likely to be branded as a defaulter, in con-
sequence of having speculated and lost £10,000, Woolcott actually

130 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. i, 1890.

parts with his mine for this sum (Sir Everard taking care to beat him
down when he finds the money is wanted at once), and hands it over
to George's creditor to free him, leaving himself penniless. He has
sworn the youth to secrecy, bat his good deed leaks out, and the fair
Mrs. Meredith is so grateful to him for his generosity, that she not
only by a clever ruse manages to overreach her generally astute
brother and get back the mine for Woolcott, but actually bestows on
him her hand. Mr. Goodwin is very neat in his acting, his humour
is unforced, and he can express pathos. His love scene with Mrs.
Meredith was a very charming little bit of acting, for Miss Kate Forsyth
was also excellent in her character. Mr. Glenny was good as an Irish
M.P., Home Ruler, of course, and made love to Una very naturally,
Miss Jennie McNulty playing up to him well. Mr. William Farren
was to the life the hard pompous city magnate, and Miss Carlotta
Leclercq, in an utterly ridiculous and far-fetched character, by her
tact and judgment saved it from being too wearisome. Mr. Frank
Wood cleverly represented an old city clerk. Mr. Harry Eversfield
had an unpleasant character to play, and could not :shoTV to much
advantage.

"THE JUDGE."

Farcical Play In three acts, by ARTHUR LAW.
First produced at Terry's Theatre, Thursday Evening, July 24, 1890.

•Sir John Pye
Herbert Stry ver. .
Algernon Prlngle

•Mowle

Mr. Shuttleworth

Mr. W. S. PENLEY.
Mr. WAI. HERBERT.
Mr. FRANK H. FENTON.
Mr. MARK KINGHORNK.
Mr. W. LESTOCQ.

Jacob Ricketts ..
Mrs. Shuttleworth
Mrs. Ricketts
Chloe Pye . .
Daphne Pye . .

Mr. G. BKLMORE.
Mr. EMILY THORN E.
Miss ELSIE CHESTER.
Miss HELEN LBYTOJT.
Miss CISSY GRAHAME.

But scant courtesy has of late been shown to the majesty of the
law ; we have had the barrister and the solicitor placed in the most
equivocal positions, and now even the bench is made a subject for
good-natured ridicule. Mr. Law taxes our credulity to an alarming
extent, but he gives us some really witty lines and has drawn a
character which Mr. Penley can and does make most amusing. Sir
John Pye is an estimable little gentleman, but he unfortunately is
very nervous about himself ; he takes with him, wherever he goes,
besides his two daughters, Chloe and Daphne, a cargo of disinfectants
and a well stocked chest of globules, to which.he has recourse on the
very slightest pretence. Arrived in the assize town with his marshall,
Herbert Stryver, and a young barrister, Algernon Pringle, who are
dangling after the two girls, Sir John guards himself against an in-
cipient cold by putting his feet in hot water and taking gruel. His
comforts having been duly attended to, his servant Mo wle ret ires, the
Misses Pye having gone to a party. Sir John is toasting himself
with his feet in his bath before the fire, when his quietude is dis-
turbed by the sudden entry of Mrs. Matilda Shuttleworth. This
buxom lady is under a charge of bigamy, has contrived to escape
from the lock-up and entered the first house to which she could gain
admittance. Fortunately for her it is a friendly shelter, for in Sir
John she recognises a youthful lover. For the sake of old times he
sets aside his judicial duty, impelled thereto, perhaps, in some sort by
the strong-minded Matilda, and consents to her remaining the night.
She hands him over her baby and its bottle, with which Sir John
retires to his bedroom, and Matilda establishes herself on the sofa.
The barristers and their sweethearts return from the ball, they open
a bottle of champagne, the popping of the cork awakes Mrs. Shuttle-
worth, and she knowing no other way to account for her presence,

SEPT. 1, 1890. J OUR PLAY-BOX. 131

announces herself as Lady Pye. The girls are not a bit astonished,
and when Sir John, roused from his slumbers, appears at the door of
his chamber with the baby in his arms, they devour their supposed
newly-found brother with kisses. Mr. Shuttleworth, who has been
away for a considerable time in America, on his return learns that
his wife is charged with bigamy ; he has an intense admiration and
indeed almost reverence for his grandly-proportioned consort, and so
he comes to plead on her behalf with Sir John, for the Judge is an old
schoolfellow of his ; but when he sees Mrs. Shuttleworth and hears
her announced as Lady Pye, he comes to the conclusion that believing
him, Shuttleworth, to be dead, she has married a^ain. Mrs. Ricketts,
the wife of the police inspector, is a sharp woman and often does a
little detective duty. She has taken this bigamy case in hand, has
traced the prisoner to the house and sets her foolish son Jacob, also
a policeman, to prevent anyone leaving the premises. Shuttleworth
and his wife have explained matters to each other and determined to
escape together. Jacob can only overhear part of their arrangement,
but determines to be on the safe side. When the judge appears in his
scarlet and ermine robes preparatory to taking his seat on the bench
(for this takes place on the morning of the following day), the stupid
policeman, believing him to be an accomplice of Mrs. Shuttleworth's
in disguise, handcuffs them together. Mrs. Ricketts is after all the
means of clearing the bigamist's character. She discovers that the
man Mowle (who has not throughout the play been brought in con-
tact with Lady Pye) to whom Mrs. Shuttleworth was first married,
had a wife living at the time. Mr. Penley was excessively droll
throughout, and his make-up was excellent. He has not been seen in
a part that suits him better, and Miss Emily Thome is happily cast
as Mrs. Shuttleworth. As good, perhaps, as either of these are Mr.
Mark Kinghorne, who though now a judge's valet, has been connected
with the stage and treats everything from a theatrical point of view,
and Miss Elsie Chester, who represented the female detective with
surprising force and effect. Miss Cissy Grahame and Miss Helen
Leyton played the twin sisters well, their assumed innocence as to
worldly doings being very comic, and Mr. William Herbert was natural
and easy as a gentleman who is constantly changing his mind as to
which of the girls he likes best ; he was well backed up by Mr.
Fenton. Mr. Lestocq aided materially in the success by his quaint
reading of the loving but mystified Mr. Shuttleworth. Since the
first night, alterations have been made in the third act which have
considerably strengthened it. The company play well together, the
whole piece goes more quickly, and appears likely to have a good run.

"LITTLE NOBODY."

Play in three act*, by MARY RIGHTOS.
First produced in London at the Vaudeville Theatre, Thursday afternoon, July 24, 1890.

Capt. Tray ton Kenward Mr. LEWIS FREEMAN.

Sir Dennis Hargraves.
Colonel Forbes
Dolly Bruce . .

Dennison.. ..
Smith..

Mr. J. R. CHAUFORD.

Mr. WALTER RUSSELL.

Mr. A. KOWNEY.
( Mr. ORLANDO
) BARNETT.

Mr. G. B. PHILLIPS.

Lori Tryon ...... Mr. DYER WILLIAMS.

Hon. Will Saunders . . Mr. CLIFFORD LEIGH.
Mrs. Forbes ...... Miss ISA JOHXSON.

Georgie Grahame . .

. . j

Fay, "Little Nobody". . Miss MARY RIGHTON.

This is the history of a very young girl ? bout whose birth there is
a mystery. She has been brought up by Captain Kenward's mother
and still lives in the house after her decease, and is known as Fay or
" Little Nobody." Though she is a mere child Kenward loves her,
and when he is called away on active service he entrusts her to the

132 TEE THEATRE. [SEPT. i, 1890-

care of his old friend Colonel Forbes, in whose household she suffers-
much misery on account of the causeless jealousy of Mrs. Forbes.
Though Fay cares for her old playmate Ken ward, she is too young as-
yet quite to know her own mind, and, therefore, when Sir Dennis
Hargraves, a roue, pays her attentions she is inclined to accede to his-
proposals to elope with him, under the promise of marriage. She is
actually supposed to have run away, the rumour having been
diligently spread by the vindictive Mrs. Forbes, — when Kenward re-
turns. He taxes Hargraves with his evil designs on Fay, and as she
has in the meantime come back from what was after all only paying
a visit, she learns her admirer's real character and turns again to her
true lover, her happiness being made the more complete by the dis-
covery that she is the long lost child of Colonel Forbes by a former
marriage. There is not very much originality in all this, but the
dialogue was good, and one or two of the characters were well drawn ,
especially that of Fay, which was sympathetically rendered by the
authoress, better known as Miss Emma Ritta. The piece suffered
much from inadequate representation, the principal character, Captain
Kenward, being completely spoilt by Mr. Freeman. Mr. Crauford was
good. Mr. Walter Russell, Mr. Rowney, and Mr. G. B. Phillips were
acceptable in their several parts. I can say but little in favour
of the remainder of the cast. On the same afternoon was played " Dear
Friends," also from the pen of Miss Righton. It is a duologue ia
which two girls, former schoolmates, are each anxious to be the first
to impart to the other the pleasing intelligence of her coming
marriage. When they compare notes they at first believe that they
are both engaged to the same man, but happily discover that their
admirers are distinct, but bearing the same name and initials and
strangely like each other. The sketch might be acceptable in the
drawing-room.

" SWEET WILL."

Comedy, in one act, by HENRY ARTHVK JON i-:s.
First performed at the Shaftesbury Theatre, on Friday afternoon, July 25, 1890.

Mrs. Darbyshlre .. Miss FAXN\ COLEMAN.
Mary Darbyshire .. Miss ANXIK HILL.

Betty Miss EMMA RIVERS.

Will Darbyshlre .. Mr. LEWIS WALLKK.

Judith Loveless .. Miss XOKHKVS.

" Sweet Will " was one of Mr. Jones's earlier productions of about
the same date as "A Clerical Error," but had not hitherto been
acted. It almost foretells the success the author has since gained,
for it is daintily written, and is human and sympathetic. Judith
loves Will Darbyshire, but has not let him see it, for he is invariably
cold in hit manner to her. His reason for this is that he knows
himself to be very poor. By his mother's advice, Judith, to bring
about a declaration on his part, tells him of an offer of marriage she
has had, and he so far steels his heart as to dictate the letter which
she is to write accepting the offer. His approaching departure to
take up an appointment abroad of considerable duration, brings about,
an avowal on his part, and the cloud that obscured their mutual
happiness is dispelled. The little piece was very well acted by all
concerned in it, and as it is likely to be seen again, the original cast
is given. The occasion of the production was Mr. Griffith's annual
matinee, when, among sundry other items in a good programme,
Mr. Willard appeared as Filippo in " The Violin Makers," and Mr.
Edgar Bruce made his r entree as Sir George Carlyon, his original
character, in Sydney Gruudy's charming play "In Honour Bound,"
supported by Mr. Ernest Lawford (who was not up in his words) as

SEPT. l, 1890. J OUR PLAY-BOX. US

Philip Graham, Miss Edith Chester as Rose Dalrymple, and Miss
Dorothy Dene as an excellent Lady Carlyon.

"THAT GIRL."

Comedy in three acts (founded by permission on a story by Miss Clementina Black), by HENRY

HAMILTON and Mrs. OSCAR BERINGER.
First produced at the Hayin \rket Theatre, Wednesday afternoon, July 30, 1890.

•Captain Wentworth .
Philip Challoner.. .
Lumley Brereton
Alexander McNab
Frank Hillyard . . .
Harold Leigh . . .

Mr. C. W. SOMERSET.
Mr. H. KEBVKS SMITH.
Mr. E. W. GARDIXKH.
Mr. EARLE DOUGLAS.
Mr. RUDGE HARDING.
Mr. G. KiNGSLANi).

Iris Wentworth . .
Mrs. Cyrus P. Dodge. .
Caroline Murthwaite
Fraulein Schwabe . .
Aphrodite Dodge

Miss NORREYS.
Miss HELEN LEIGH.
Miss HOUSTON.
Mrs. B. H. BROOKE.
Miss VERA BERINGER.

The joint authoress of " That Girl " must in all probability bear
the blame of having materially weakened a play that possessed some
strength and freshness, by writing up the part of a most objectionable
character— the child Aphrodite Dodge — who has not one redeeming
point but is simply obtrusive, disagreeable, and wearying. In a
measure resembling Digby Grant in " Two Roses," Captain Went-
worth is a selfish gentleman out of elbows, who does not care very
much how he gets money so long as he does get it. He has been
floating about the Continent, and has used his daughter Iris as a decoy
for the young men he rooks at cards and billiards. As a rule she
meets with the treatment such girls generally receive ; this renders
her miserable, for the poor creature is pure and modest, and she is
therefore the more grateful for the kind attention and respectful con-
sideration bestowed on her by Philip Challoner, a none too rich
gentleman who has the sense to read her true character. Her father
has encouraged Lumley Brereton in the belief that Iris shall be his,
but when the young fellow is cleaned out he shows him the door.
Lumley urges his suit almost insultingly and is knocked down for
his pains by Challoner. As he rises he vows to be revenged. Challoner
xmexpectedly inherits a large property and is recalled to England to
claim it (the scene is laid in Switzerland). In a few days a letter
comes from him apparently proposing for the hand of Iris ; she is
only too happy for she has given him her heart, and her father is
delighted for he will have a rich son-in-law. On the strength of the
coming alliance he orders new clothes, gets an extended credit from
Fraulein Schwabe, his landlady, calls together his acquaintances, and
in a grandiloquent speech toasts the future bride and bridegroom
in bumpers of champagne. Wentworth is of good family, and in
consequence of this and his daughter's approaching marriage, Mrs.
Cyrus P. Dodge, a " shoddy " widow, very rich and with a reverence
for high birth, has overlooked the fact of his having had to retire
from the army for cheating at cards, and has accepted him as her
future husband. Judge, then, of the consternation of those immediately
concerned, and the delight of the acquaintances who have looked
down upon the father and daughter, when Challoner does not arrive
by the boat as expected. The reason is soon found. Challoner has
never written a line ; the proposal and subsequent letters are all for-
geries written by Brereton to bring ruin and disgrace on the Went-
worths. Iris is utterly broken down with shame and self -contempt ;
she has poured out her whole heart of love in reply to Ghalloner's
supposed letters. Things end happily, however. Challoner does come
and actually offers his hand to Iris ; he has loved her but would not
declare himself so long as he was. poor, but he learns from the eaves-
dropping Aphrodite how Iris loves him for himself, and what Brere-
ton has done. He gets back Iris' letters from the scoundrel, and Mrs.

234 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. l, 1S90.

Dodge, who, despite her vulgarity, is a loyal-hearted though silly
woman, consents to marry Wentworth, and one is led to hope from
his manner that her kindness and generosity may make of him a
better man in the future. Alexander McNab is a Scotch tutor to
Harold Leigh, a youngster that Aphrodite is determined to " mash,"
as she calls it. The part of the Scotchman was very well played.
Mr. C. W. Somerset again distinguished himself ; his study of the
broken down roue and gambler — plausible, polished and hypocritical —
was excellent. Miss Norreys was rather uneven in her performance,
but generally it was tender and womanly. Mr. H. Reeves Smith
played with manly sincerity and decision. Mr. E. W. Gardiner
gained second honours for his finished impersonation of the scampish
Lumley Brereton. The part of Mrs. Dodge could not have been
better played than it was by Miss Helen Leigh. As to Miss Vera
Beringer's Aphrodito, I suppose she carried out her instructions, but
the young lady certainly did not attempt to soften any of the re-
pulsiveness of the character. The matinee was given for the benefit
of Mrs. Beverly, widow of the late scenic artist of Drury Lane, &c.
Mr. Beerbohm Tree lent the theatre, the artists acted gratuitously, and
the entire proceeds were handed to the beneficiaire.

"THE ENGLISH ROSE."

New original drama, in tour acts, by GEO. R. SIMS and ROBERT BUCHAXAX.
First produced at the Adelphi Theatre, Saturday, August 2, 1890.

Sir Philip Kingston .
The Knight of Ballj

. Mr. BASSETT ROE.

Larry MacNulty . .
Cassldy

Mr. JAMES EAST.

Mr. J. NORTHCOTE

veeney
Harry O'Mailley (*-;
Father Michael \ « \
O'Mailley Lwd
Captain Macdonell .
Nicodemug Dlckenson
Randal O'Mara . . .
Sergeant O'Reilly

Mr. J. D. BEVEHIDGK.
;O Mr. LEONARD BOYXE.
i j Mr. T. B. THALBERO.

Mr. W. L. ABIXGDOX.
Mr. LIOXKL RIGXOLO.
Mr. CHARLES DALTOX.
Mr. J. L. SIIIXE.

O'Brien
Farmer Flannigan .
O'Shea
Ethel Kingston . . .
Bridget O'Mara .. .
Louisa Ann Ferguso
Judv
Biddy

Mr. E. BAXTOCK.
Mr. H. Cooi'Eu.
Mr. J. HOWE.
Miss OL<;A BRAXDOS.
Miss MARY ROUKK.
Miss CLARA JECKS.
Miss ESSEX DANE.
Miss MAIMJE MILDREX.

Patsie Blake
Shaun

Miss KATK JAMES.
Mr. W. NOUTHCOTK.

Norah
Mary

Miss JAXKTTE KEKVK.
Miss NELLIE CARTER.

There is a picturesque aspect in Irish life that lends itself readily
to the production of an interesting play, and though the work by
Messrs. Sims and Buchanan bears an English title, the scene and all
the incidents are Irish. We have threats of eviction, an Irish steeple-
chase, an assassination by moonlighters, and a rescue of a prisoner by
an Irish mob from the Irish constabulary. Add to these, the hated
English landlord and his agent, a real Irish jaunting car, and the
typical " gossoon," so that we have a fair picture of Irish life as
known to readers of Lever's works. The collaborators have made
use of all these to weave around a persecuted hero, and of a murder,
without which an Adelphi drama would be incomplete, have thrown
in a song or two for their comic characters, and have given us far
brighter dialogue than we have hitherto had in this class of play.
All this combined has resulted in a most successful whole. The en-
thusiasm was very great on the first night, and crowded houses since
then have proved that the applause was genuine. Sir Philip Kings-
ton, an Englishman, has foreclosed on the Knight of Ballyveeney's
estates. Though but a poor gentleman, his son Harry has found
favour in the eyes of Ethel Kingston, but her uncle forbids her to see
him. Heroines, however, are not so submissive, and her meeting
with her lover brings on him a blow from Sir Philip, which Harry
for her sake does not return, but uses some threatening words.
These are quoted against 4*im as showing a motive for the murder of
Sir Philip, who is shot down as he is driving home, and of which

SEPT. 1,1890.] OUR PLAY-BOX. TSS

murder Harry is accused. The real assassin is one O'Mara, a moon-
lighter, who, fearing eviction, commits the deed at the instigation of
the agent, Captain Macdonell, who is anxious that Sir Philip should
be disposed of before his (the agent's) accounts are gone into.
O'Mara confesses his crime to Father Michael O'Mailley, whose lips
are sealed by his priestly office, and he the while knowing the real
culprit, dares not speak and so clear his own brother Harry. The
hero is found guilty, mostly on the evidence of Ethel, who at first
looked upon him as the murderer, but now convinced of his
innocence, establishes it by collateral evidence, confirmed by the
tardy death-bed confession of O'Mara. In unfolding the story, there-
are some exciting scenes and some strong situations. The steeple-
chase, in which Harry defeats his rival Macdonell, followed by
Harry's furious ride in his endeavour to save Sir Philip's life, the
murder at the Devil's Bridge, the rescue of Harry by the mob af ter-
his conviction, and the search for him by the soldiers when he has.
taken refuge in his brother's chapel, are all worked up with great
spirit. The acting is excellent. Mr. Leonard Boyne is a gallant
fellow, a bold rider, and artistic in expressing his affection and his
agony when accused. Miss Olga Brandon, though still. W.eak and
hoarse, became a favourite at once by her truth to nature. Mr. Lionel
Rignold has a part that just suits him, and in which he is very droJl
as a particularly sharp but thoroughly dishonest horsey individual^
Mr. Shine, as a merry, good-hearted sergeant of police, makes love
to Miss Clara Jecks, a London lady's maid, who finds herself much
out of her element in the wilds of the Emerald Isle. Miss Kate
James is the liveliest of " gossoons," and sings a pretty song. Mr.
Abingdon is a thorough-faced villain, and is most properly hand-
cuffed at last. Mr. Bassett Roe fitly represents a well-meaning but
irascible English gentleman ; and Mr. J. D. Beveridge is cheery and
warm-hearted as the good old Knight of Ballyveeney. Mr. Charles
Dalton displays great power as the half-mad O'Mara ; and Miss Mary
Rorke is tender and sweet as the true-hearted Bridget O'Mara, a vic~
tim to unrequited love. The scenery is beautifully painted, and the*
stage management of the very best.

"THIS WOMAN AND THAT."

Play in three acts, by PIERRE LECLKRCQ.
First pro.lucc-1 at the Globe Theatre, Saturday afternoon, Aagust 2, 1890.

Sir George Ingleside . . Mr. MARK QUINTOX.

Percy Gauntlett . . . . Mr. OTIS SKINNER.

Charles Tettertoa . . Mr. J. H. MAXLEY.

Funge Mr. J. F. GRAHAM.

Blight Mr. F. BON DV.

Lady Ingleside .. .. Miss EMILIE C

Paskins Miss M. BAKER.

EveFleurier Miss ADELAIDE MOORED

When an author has written one really good play like " The Love
Story," and another which though far-fetched still possessed con-
siderable merit as did " Illusion," curiosity is naturally excited as ta
his next production. Such was the case in reference to Mr.
Leclercq's " This Woman and That." The result was most disappoint-
ing ; there was no originality, and but little point in the dialogue.
The one excuse that may be made for the result is that Miss.
Adelaide Moore, who played the heroine, brought to the proper-
rendering of the character neither that brightness nor pathos that it
required. Mr. Leclercq, I imagine, wished to show us how we may
be mistaken in a woman's nature from her outward manners. He
scarcely succeeded. Lady Ingleside, a seeming prude, with a loving
husband, elopes with a good-for-nothing roue, Percy Gauntlett, who.
pleads in palliation of his wasted life that he has been refused by

136 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. 1, 1890.

Eve Fleurier, a gay, light-hearted girl. Although Eve knows of his
utter baseness, for he has betrayed his best friend, she resolves to
save him and the faithless wife despite themselves. This she ac-
complishes, returning Lady Ingleside to the arms of her forgiving
husband and promising to give herself to Gauntlett if he is a
redeemed character at the end of the year. Miss Emilie Calhaem's
performance was the best in the cast. Mr. Otis Skinner could do
nothing with his most thankless part, and Mr. Mark Quinton availed
himself of his one opportunity. As I yet hope that we shall see good
work from Mr. Leclercq, I have noticed the play and recorded the
names of those who appeared in it.

"THE GREAT UNKNOWN."

Eccentric comedy, in three acts, adapted by AUGUSTIN DALY from a German play.
First produced in London at the Lyceum Theatre, Tuesday, August 5th, 1890."

Mr. Jeremiah Jarraway

Mr. JAMES LEWIS.

Pansv

Miss ISABEL IRVING.

Ked Dreemer, "Cousin
Ned"
The O'Donnell Don . .
Tom Prowde
Patrick

Mr. JOHN DREW.

Mr. FREDERICK BOND.
Mr. EUGENE ORMOND.
Mr. WILL SAMPSON.

Mrs. Arabella Jarraway
Aunt Penelope . .
Shirley Munkittrick ..
Miss Twitters

Miss MAY SYLVIE.
Mrs. G. H. GILBERT.
Miss EDITH CRANE.
Miss F. CONRON.
) Miss ADELAIDE

Etna

Miss ADA REHAN.

Mdlle. Agathe

) PRINCE.

Mr. Augustin Daly has generally been happy in his adaptations of
German pieces, but he has not been so fortunate with " The Great
Unknown," taken from a play by Franz von Schonthan and Gustav
Kadelburg, and entitled in the original, " Die Beriihmte Frau." There
is generally some sort of plot, brightened by felicitous dialogue. In
the latest new production at the Lyceum there is no real plot, and,
instead of bright crisp lines, we have a mass of American slang,
rather aptly described as " the picturesque we meet with at street
corners." The introduction of slang in very small doses will some-
times give piquancy, but, even from the lips of a pretty girl, when
her conversation is interlarded with it, it becomes wearisome and
objectionable. The very poor story on which the " eccentric
comedy " is founded is that of Mrs. Arabella Jarraway, who imagines
herself a Longfellow or a Tennyson, without the slightest claim to
their merits, signs her effusions Alpha, and poses to herself as " The
Great Unknown." Until she was consumed by the divine fire, she
was all that a wife should be, but once the madness has set in, she
starts off for Italy for inspiration, and remains there for three years.
The consequence is that her daughters, though they remain good
girls, run very wild in the way of deportment and language, the
elder, Etna, flirts, and the younger, Pansy, in her school frocks,
varies the monotony of her music lesson by accentuating every few
bars with kisses given to her music master. Old Jarraway runs
after a pretty widow, and makes himself a laughing-stock. The
good genius is Cousin Ned. Luckily for Etna he falls in love with
her, and she with him. He weans her from her tomboy propen-
sities, keeps a sharp eye upon Pansy, and telegraphs for Mrs. Jarra-
way. When she returns to her household, by various devices he
brings jhome to her her folly in neglecting ithose who should be
dearest to her, and so once more establishes a right state of things in
the whole family. None of the part£ were worthy of the clever
company who had to fill them. By sheer ability they managed to
conceal some of the dulness of the play. Knowing, as everyone
does who has seen them, their capabilities, there i? no occasion to
single out anyone specially, excepting Miss May Silvie, who, I think,
has not been seen before during this visit of the Daly company. She

SEPT. 1, 1890.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 137

is an acquisition, for she played very cleverly the role of Mrs.
Jarraway, a silly affected woman, whose brain has been turned by
adulation. " The Great Unknown " was only played for a few
nights, after which " Casting the Boomerang " was revived.

On the same evening the opening piece was "A SVoman's Won't,"
which was seen some four years ago at the Strand, and also on the
occasion of Mrs. Jeune's holiday fund benefit matinee. It is a clever
skit, showing how a tiff may arise from a most ridiculous cause.
James and Lucy, the man servant and maid (Mr. Frederick Bond
and Miss Kitty Cheatham) have just finished laying the cloth. James
says, " Thank goodness, the table is spread," and wishes Lucy to repeat
it after him. She refuses, and they quarrel. Their master (Mr.
George Clarke) overhears their dispute, recounts it to his newly-
married wife (Miss Isabel Irving), and says he feels sure that if he
were to ask her to say anything after him she would do so, but she
rebels, and they have thereon their first angry words. The parents
of the bride come to lunch, the whole story is told to them, and the
old gentleman (James Lewis) says that he has trained his wife (Mrs.
Gilbert) so well that she would not hesitate for a moment to repeat,
" Thank goodness, the table is spread." He is, however, much taken
aback when she flatly refuses. By the present of a shawl the young
wife is cajoled into proving that " a woman's won't " is not always
like the laws of the Medes and Persians, the old lady unintentionally
repeats the words that have caused all the trouble, and Lucy rather
than lose her James utters them, and makes them an excuse to
pretend to faint in her lover's arms. It was admirably acted, and
was thoroughly enjoyed.

"WELCOME, LITTLE STRANGER."

Comedy, in three acts, by JAMES ALBERY.
Produced at the Criterion Theatre, Wednesday, August 6, 1890.

Cranberry Buck
Darrtell Roe . .
James Paragon . .
Mrs. Amelia Buck

Mr. W. BL.VKELEY.
Mr. EDMUND MAURICE.

Mr. CrKORGE GlDDENS.

Miss M. A. VICTOR.

Mrs. Cecilia Roe .. Miss HELEN FORSYTII.

Mrs. Llorencourt .. MissYANEFEATHKKSTON.

Fanny Miss EMILY VININU.

Ann Miss F. FRANCIS.

The new piece at the Criterion was announced in the programme
as though it were an original production of the author's, whereas it
was really an adaptation by him of " Le petit Ludovic," written by
Henry Crissafulli and Victor Bernard, and produced with very great
success at the Theatre des Arts (Menus Plaisirs), March 17, 1879. It
was also looked upon as an initial performance, but I understand
that the piece was tried at the Shakespeare Theatre, Liverpool, about
the middle of last year under a different title, and no great opinion
was formed, of it. The provincial audience, which was a small one,
was correct in its judgment, for though the original idea of the un-
expected arrival of a baby was droll, the humour of the piece ended
with that, and the harping on one string became monotonous. For-
tunately the cast was a good one, or the play would have been dull
indeed, for in it there is scarce any of that brightness of dialogue
which distinguished Mr. Albery's usual work. One motive of the
play is certainly not agreeable. Mrs. Amelia Buck, some twenty years
before the play opens, has presented her husband with one only child,
a daughter, Cecilia, who has grown up and has been married to
Darrtell Roe some six weeks. Mr. Buck is delighted with the
marriage, for he has made up his mind that there will be a boy born
of it, for whom he is building all sorts of Spanish castles. A pretty
widow calls to congratulate the Bucks on the anniversary of their

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI. I

138 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. l, isao.

silver wedding. She had been out of health, but is now quite
restored ; she attributes this and the fact of her looking so young
entirely to a visit to the Engadine. Mr. Buck determines to take his
wife there, " perhaps it will make them both young again ; " so it
does. They are away a year, and when they return they are not
alone, for they are the proud and happy parents of a little son. Mr.
and Mrs. Roe have been kept in the dark as to the auspicious event,
so that when they come on a visit, there is some little hesitation in
announcing the fact, as they also have a six-weeks'-old boy, who will
naturally suffer in prospects from the birth of the other baby, who
in their case will scarcely be looked upon as a "welcome little
stranger." Fathers always consider a son and heir as the most won-
derful creature in the world. Mr. Buck and Mr. Roe are no excep-
tions to the rule ; in fact, they are so jealous of each other through
their boys that at last they quarrel desperately. Roe determines to
leave the house ; his wife and mother-in-law are aghast at the feud,
but James Paragon, a friend of the family, comes to the rescue.
After very persistent wooing, Mrs. Llorencourt has promised him
her hand on one condition, that he shall bring about a reconciliation
between father and son-in-law, and he does it in this way. "When
Mr. Roe announces his immediate departure, the maid Ann asks
whether he intends to take the baby ; of course he replies " yes,"
when in tears, in which she is joined by Fanny, the Bucks' servant,
they announce that the children have got " mixed ; " they really
cannot say which is Buck and which is Roe. The mothers join in
the plot, the fathers are easily taken in, and are compelled to submit,
not perhaps with the best of grace, to share the children on the un-
derstanding that to make matters straight they shall exercise parental
authority over each child in alternate months. The quaint fussy
style of Mr. Blakeley's acting exactly suited him for his part, and he
was very amusing. Miss Victor seconded him well. Mr. Maurice
was tragio-comic as the father in defence of his offspring. Pretty
Miss Helen Forsyth acted attractively. Miss Vane Featherston
played with considerable humour, her scenes being principally with
Mr. Giddens, who, bashful with most ladies, is most amusingly per-
sistent in his pursuit of the one who has bewitched him.

"Welcome, Little Stranger" was preceded by "Jilted," a comic
drama, in two acts, by Alfred Maltby, which was quite worth seeing,
for it is a pleasant little piece and was well acted. Samuel Potts,
junior (Mr. G. Giddens) has been entangled in the meshes of the net
that Mrs. Daulton (Miss Emily Miller) has spread for him. She has
a daughter Margaret (Miss F. Francis), who, without caring one atom
for Samuel, has allowed herself to be engaged to him on account of
his wealth. She really cares for the Honourable Henry St. Cloud
(Mr. F. Atherley). Carrie Dalrypple, Samuel's cousin, a clever good
girl, who loves him, sees through the Daultons' scheme, and causes a
letter to be sent announcing the failure of a bank, by which Samuel
is supposed to have lost all his money. On hearing this, Mrs.
Daulton at once breaks off the match, and Samuel turns from his in-
fatuation for Margaret to the true love of his cousin Carrie, remarka-
bly well played by Miss Ellaline Terriss.

SEPT. i, 1890.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 139

"THE BOOKMAKER."

Original comedy, In three acts, by J. W. PIGOTT.
Placed In the evening bill at the Gaiety, Saturday, August 9, 1890.
Sir Joseph Trent. . . . Mr. NAT C. GOODWIN.
TheBarl of Harborough Mr. WILLIAM FARHEN.

Gerald,Lord Maidment Mr. H. REEVES SMITH.
The Hon. Jack Carew Mr. CHARLES GLKXNY.

T^ei ^arquls °f Bud' I Mr. GEORGE DALZIEL.
Mr. Mortmain . Mr. ERIC THORNE.

James ........ Mr. 0. WALKER.

Lady Harborough . .

Sybil Hardwtcke .. Miss ADELAIDE GVNN.
Pollv ........ Miss JEXXIK McNui/ET.

Bubbles Mr. FRANK WOOD.

The initial performance of Mr. Pigott's play was given on the
afternoon of March 19, 1889, at Terry's Theatre, with Mr. Edward
Terry in the title role. Mr. H. Reeves Smith and Mr. George Dalziel
were the originals of the characters they now fill. The plot was
given in the April number of THE THEATRE, and the play was then
well spoken of. Though, perhaps, going over the same ground, I
think I must shortly recapitulate the story. Sir Joseph Trent, after
having passed his early life as a mere waif, becomes a jockey, and
ultimately develops into a bookmaker. Through it all he remains an
honest, good-hearted fellow. Most unexpectedly he learns that he
is a baronet and wealthy. From the impovished family of the Earl
of Harborough, he meets with courtesy at least, and absolute kindness
from Lady Jessie, his daughter, a young girl, who, though horsey in
her conversation and likings, is still a true woman, and whose
favourite pursuits assimilate with those of the bookmaker. Her
sweetheart, Jack Carew, is an "objectionable" on account of his
poverty, so Sir Joseph (whose inherited money, by-the-bye, is tied up)
buys Lady Jessie a race-horse, backs it for a very considerable sum,
and thus provides her with a marriage portion. Lord Maidment, the
Earl's son, has, when at college, contracted a foolish marriage with
Polly, an adventuress, therefore he cannot marry Sybil Hardwicke,
an heiress, though they are attached to each other. Polly tries to
assert her rights, which the bookmaker quietly sets on one side by
proving that she had married and deserted him previously to her
second union. Lord Maidment is thus at liberty, and can, with
Sybil's money, extricate his father from his difficulties, and free him
from the tyranny of the Marquis of Budleigh, a detestable fellow, who
holds a mortgage over the Harborough estates, and threatens to fore-
close unless Lady Jessie will accept him as a husband. Mr. Nat
Goodwin's style is quite different from that of Mr. Edward Terry, the
original representative, but is equally effective from its quaint and
unforced humour and its sincerity. Though plebeian in manner, the
nobility of the true gentleman is apparent to all. He may not wear kid
gloves, but his hands are always clean. Mr. Goodwin made as dis-
tinct a success as he has in America in the character. Mr. Reeves
Smith and Mr. Dalziel were as excellent as before. Mr. Charles
Glenny was a frank, hearty young officer as the Hon. Carew. Mr.
Farren and Miss Carlotta Leclercq have not parts in which they can
particularly shine. Mr. Frank Wood gave us a capital bit of low
comedy, without exaggerating it, as the butler Bubbles. Lady Jessie
and Sybil are both sympathetic characters, the first affording scope
for good acting, but neither of them were done justice. As good a
performance as one could wish was that of Miss Jennie McNulty as
Polly, her bravado, her insolent vulgarity, were only equalled by the
little exquisite touch of pathos towards the close, when her callous
heart is touched by the generosity of Sir Joseph, who, remembering
he once loved her, provides liberally for her future, notwithstanding
her cruel conduct to him. " The Bookmaker," is a healthy play,
well written, and should achieve success wherever acted.

CECIL HOWARD.

140 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. 1, 1890.

©ut

Musical Silhouettes.

No. 5.— THE AMATEUR COMPOSER.

HE Amateur Composer is both male and female ; but the
former is comparatively harmless, while the latter is a
species to be avoided by all who can do so without being
rude to a member of the favoured sex.

The male species is quite harmless indeed. He is
sometimes a mild and meek-mannered curate, who has
written a song that Miss Selina Jorkins, the soprano of
our village, has sung at several penny-readings with much applause,
and which he is certain would sell, and which he publishes (at his
own expense). It generally costs him a considerable sum for revision,
though his reviser does not go so far as to point out such facts as the
abnormal compass — usually about two octaves — or its similarity to
somebody's popular song. It returns to him ruthlessly mangled in
proof ; and a certain bitterness hereat is mingled with the Amateur
Composer's pride. His only congratulation can be that he has
written a song only a trifle worse than the perpetrations of some of
the popular professional writers. About forty-seven copies are sold,
chiefly in the curate's vicinity, and through his personal popularity
in the parish. Then he gets married to the very prim and elderly
daughter of a neighbouring rector, and his wife either sings classical
songs in a thin] mezzo, or has a serious objection to all music
whatsoever. His career as an Amateur Composer thereupon ends
abruptly.

Or else he is a budding student, at the Royal Academy or the Con-
servatoire, in which case his composition is too elaborate for anyone
but himself to play, much less understand. But it is the Amateur
Composer of the other sex that is the most trying. She is in-
defatigable ; so much so that she generally writes at least two songs
a week, and, as she has been writing ever since she was eighteen, her
piles of music are prodigious. She publishes them, half-a-dozen in
a batch, but rarely two series are published by the same firm, because
she is always on bad terms with her publishers. If a young firm,
not versed in the ways of the Amateur Composer, gives her a couple
of guineas for a ballad, she is in raptures, and worries the life out
of partners and clerks, to say nothing of the printer, who has to alter
and re-alter his plates daily, because she thinks this chord an im-
provement, or that note too low, or that phrase much prettier.

SEPT. i, 1890.] OUR MUSICAL-BOX. 141

When her songs appear, she bores her friends by asking if they
have heard them, and if they have not, drives them to the brink of
madness by playing them and singing them all, with an interpolated
commentary on their hidden beauties of musical construction. She
annoys the singers by writing familiar letters to them, worrying
them to sing her songs, to such an extent that they are fain to do so
in sheer self-defence. Her house is neglected, her husband and
children forgotten — she is re-writing this in a tenor key for
Smith, or that in contralto for Miss Jones. Men may come and men
may go, but the Amateur Composer of this description still goes on
writing songs, all wonderfully mediocre, and beautifully similar !

Another Amateur Composer is in Society, and, having inked her
fingers at Literature, soiled them with Art, and pricked them with the
last fad in fancywork for a church fancy fair, thinks she can write
songs, and does so. They are sung by eminent singers at her "at
homes," and are puffed by certain newspapers in which such func-
tions are belauded. A firm of publishers offers to circulate them, all
expenses being defrayed by the composer. This really does not do
much harm to anybody, as no one is bound to buy the songs, and if
they do, they need not sing them. They keep the market full,
perhaps, and leave no room for the musician's wares ; but what of
that ?

The Amateur Composer that calls for most respect, is that one
who, having written something fairly good, is bold enough to avow
his or her intention of seeking the favour of the public without any
claptrap or influence whatever, just like an ordinary professional,
though still as an amateur. But these are rare indeed — very black
swans ! Such throwing away, such despisal of one's advantages, is-
really very like folly.

The Amateur Composer, however, who poses as a professional, and
apes the knowledge and the experience of such, is neither deserving,
of respect nor consideration. He or she is only a shade preferable to that
despicable thing, the professional who poses as an amateur. Of course,
so long as there are composers, there will be the Amateur, prating
of Work, and watching for a chance of slipping into the ranks of those
who serve in the army of art, a chance of following their footsteps
without wearing their uniform, or fighting their stern battles.

SEMIBKKVE.

The customary season of promenade concerts at Co vent Garden commenced,
this year under the conductorship of Mr. Gwyllym Crowe, on August 9. The
quasi-classical nature of the programme cannot, I fear, be laid to the credit of
the tastes of the audience, who would be much more likely to appreciate the
last new commonplace ballad, or the most popular easy set of waltzes. What
the shilling promenaders think of Dvorak and his probable influence on musical
art this end of the century, Pan, the god of music, only knows ! Of course, the
usual quartette from Rigoletto was included ; there are no other quartettes in
existence. I am told it was very badly given ; but this, I_don't suppose for one
moment, affected the audience present.

I conclude concert-goers next season will still have to endure the discomforts
of St. James's and Princes' Hall, since I hear nothing of any changes, A good

142 TEE THEATRE. [SEPT. i, 1890.

many folks would be less bored by a concert if they sat in a decently comfort-
able seat, I fancy. I should rather like to know something about the exits to
the former, though, perhaps, that has but little to do with music. The County
Council are going to do a great deal with the poor music-halls ; the Steinway
Hall is the only concert hall at which I have noticed any extra exit in case of
requirement.

In fact, the superiority of a stall at a music-hall to that at six times the price
at a concert hall is a crying shame. Why should it be so ?

"While speaking of music-halls, I cannot refrain from mentioning the Brighton
Alhambra, one of the most comfortable, and, at the same time, artistic, and
acoustically built halls in town or country. Added to this, I have heard, there,
an orchestra infinitely better than that boasted by many a West End theatre ,
(though its conductor is irrepressibly fond of Suppe's " Poet and Peasant " over-
ture). In this connection some London orchestras are unnameably bad. It is
frequently a choice of escaping from the Scylla of discordant sounds, to fall
into the Charybdis of the refreshment bar.

Of course, of music this month there is none. Of " Captain Therese," at the
Prince of Wales', I shall speak later on. It seems probable that there is going
to be a boom in comic opera, for rumours of those forthcoming, and those to be
forthcoming, are flying about one's ears already. The Lyric will re-open with
Audran's " La Cigale." If it is half as good as Solomon's " Red Hussar," it
ought to be a success. What made that fail, goodness knows ; one can only
conclude that Mr. Henry J. Leslie's tide of luck had turned. It has been a
great success in America, says one paper ; and another avers it is a frost. I
don't think America appreciates our music any more than we do her plays, of
which the less said the better.

Thanks, Mr. Vert ; we should have been desolate indeed this season had it
not been for you. Only fancy having no " infant prodigy " to rave over ! How-
ever, London is now happy. Max Hambourg has arrived, has been heard, and
talked about. He came rather late in the season, it is true ; but better late
than never. Next year he can re-appear and create the usual furore, unless
it be true that Mons. Paderewski is going to play the mentor to this promising
youth, and keep him in retirement for ten years.

It is pleasant to be able to think, with good reason, that Italian Opera is not
so dead as it might be ; in sooth, it shows signs of being considerably alive. Mr.
Augustus Harris has shown us that it was not to die fromi the inordinate depth
of the pockets of any cantatrice in existence, and for this only, if for nothing
«lse, he deserves thanks. There are, it is a satisfaction to think, gifted artists
who do not expect to receive extravagant and preposterous fees ; to hear whom
sensible opera-lovers, not quite fanatically obtuse to their best interests, are
ready to flock night after night ; and who do not take into their heads the some-
what high-falutin notion that without them the days of Italian opera would be
numbered. The more plainly it is shown to " stars " that they are not, after all,
so absolutely necessary to the operatic creation, the better both for them and
the lovers of opera of all kinds.

CLIFTON BINGIIAM.

SEPT. i, 1890.] OUR AMATEURS' PLAY-BOX. 143

The Guards of the amateurs, the crack regiment, are the Canterbury Stagers y
and it is their evolutions in the field that excite the warmest interest each
dramatic year. They alone are up to their full strength. No need for them,
to send recruiting sergeants over town and country The young and old
"gentlemen of birth and breeding" who are said to pester our leading
managers for engagements, as extra courtiers and conspirators, knock also at
their gates. The portals of the club's headquarters are metaphorically
thronged with scions of our old nobility, the nobility of amateur histrionism ;
and for one vacancy there are as many applicants as though the office were a
prize in the Indian Civil Service. Nearly fifty summers have flown since the
historic premiere in 1842, but the Stagers are young and lively as ever. Silver
threads among the gold have shone upon the heads of individual members ; but
the crest of the club still rears itself loftily with the dauntless pride of youth.
Therefore on every ground do the actors claim the first place of all, by reason
of their lengthy scroll of fame, their record of great names, their age, and the
undimmed lustre of their doings during the whole period of their existence.
Greater honour than ever is theirs this year ; for, when in the course of nature
•we might reasonably look for the first signs of " the ashes of a feudel and
decrepit" institution, the aspiring spirit of the time "on her luminous wings
soars Phcenix-like to Jove," who in this relation bears a strong resemblance to
Grundy and Pinero. That is, to drop Bulmer and talk to the point, these half-
a-century-old actors, burdened with a past career and the Conservative spirit of
their Nestors and presbyters, overshadowed by the walls and memories of a
cathedral that saw the birth of civilization, and hemmed in on every side by
associations, influences, and the predilections of their chiefs, have burst the
bonds of custom, flung aside the fetters of tradition, and in racing along abreast
•of the most enterprising of their rivals, have taken, as it were, a new lease of
life.

There was from the beginning a special distinction attaching to the Stagers and
their work. But from this season that distinction will be far more notable.
For to succeed in the current plays of our subtlest writers, with such an
audience as they draw, is to transcend the success of merely keeping alive and
vigorous a fine old institution, and this latter was about the utmost of their
achievements during recent years. "The Silver Shield" and "The Money
Spinner," to say nothing of " The Milliner's Bill," are plays long enough and
strong enough to try the artistic endurance and power of any actors. Such a
part as Sir Humphry Chetwynd, which admits of no caricature — that haven of
the amateur — would tax a Hare or a Tree. Dodson Dick, the typical manager
of the cheesmonger school, although an exaggeration, still needs a delicate
touch and a fine perception of consistency in character to prevent his becoming
thy stereotyped low comedian. So, too, with Alma, a striking study of a woman
of complex nature and countless moods ; and her husband lover, with his some-
what feminine and pettish mind. The barriers in Mr. Pinero's first important
play are equally manifold, but it is better within the memory of playgoers, to
whom it is only necessary to recall the efforts of the St. James's company, to
•discover in them the imposing obstacles the author has presented to any but
highly trained intelligences.

It was in this respect, the dramatic presentation of men and women
recognisable as beings of flesh and blood, as opposed to the creatures of sawdust
and sticks whom we generally find in amateur stageland, that the Canterbury
pilgrims were unusally good. A piece of work more carefully thought out ,

144 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. l, 1890.

more elaborately finished in detail, than Mr. Oliver Twist's (Mr. Quinton
Twiss) diverting picture of a theatrical manager, scarcely anyone on the stage
could realise. His study also of the Baron Croodle, broken down gambler and
croupier, though conceived in a more extravagant spirit, in accordance with Mr.
Hare's example, was filled to overflowing with exuberant and spontaneous
humour, which, however, was always subordinated to the dramatic requirements
of the play. Mr. Colnaghi had as fine a chance of proving his versatility as any
actor could have chosen for himself. He has over and over again shone with a
brilliance that no amount of critical cold water could dim, as a flirty, flighty
touch-and-go comedian. But here he was to be tried with the arduous
character of the weak-minded, strongly prejudiced baronet of Mr. Grundy's
creation, and the incisive close-reasoning detective who Mr. Pinero unwittingly
made the hero of his coterie of swindlers and cardsharpers. From the courtly-
manners and dignified pathos of the head of the Chetwynds to the alert
insistence and assertive personality of Faubert is a long and dangerous step r
but Mr. Colnaghi took it with ease. His kindly old aristocrat was worthy of
the sentiments his author had put into his mouth, and what more could be said.
Faubert would have been the better for greater force and more passionate
emphasis, in action and in speech ; but it was at the worst a very able study and
at the best a piece of polished acting not unfit to rank beside the original. Mr.
Fladgate made a most successful first appearance with the Stagers as Tom
Potter, for which his expressive face, quiet style, and rich voice are specially-
suited ; but as Harold Boycott greater animation and self-abandonment were
necessary. Mr. Ponsonby fought bravely against a heavy voice and manner i»
a careful reading of the boy-husband, Ned Chetwynd, and the grossly over-
coloured humour of Dr. and Mrs. Dozey was thoroughly to the taste of Mr..
Drummond and Mrs. Canninge.

Alma and Millicent, who might be re-christened Comedy and Tragedy, were
in the hands of Miss Annie Irish, one of the most accomplished of our younger
actresses. So charming and many-sided a picture of the actress heroine has.
never yet been given, and in this it -was plain why she has been found a place
in the Lyceum company. The gloom and weight of Mr. Pinero's heroine were,,
however, not so completely within her grasp, and though the boldness and
earnestness of her emotional acting carried the play along, there was still some-
thing to be desired. Miss Norton played prettily, and with some moments of
touching pathetic expression, as Lucy Preston ; and Miss Laura Linden and
Mr. Alan Mackinnon were quite faultless as Dorinda and Lord Kingussie in
the second piece. Mr. Eustace Ponsonby and Miss Linden opened the bill
merrily with Mr. Godfrey's popular duologue, acting and sineing (with imita-
tions of Mrs. John Wood and Mr. Cecil) with immense spirit and vivacity, and
a neatly written version of a French monologue called " At Last," further
engaged Mr. Ponsonby and Miss Norton. " An Amateur Pantomime Rehearsal ""
gave Mr. Mackinnon, Mr. Colnaghi, and Mr. Ponsonby opportunity for some
amusing spontaneous acting, and Friday night brought the time-honoured
epilogue, this year by Mr. "Whitmore, and dealing chaffingly with Stanley and
Emin, and the famous " quest." Altogether a more varied and interesting pro-
gramme has never been forthcoming at Canterbury, and the general stir of
enterprise and infusion of new blood should result in as notable a success next
season ; a greater they could not have.

It is felt, though no one but a critic would dare to say it, that with the swel-
tering sun of July and August, the patience of the scribe gets short and his
temper grows quick, and as a result the nmtinee giver ceases from troubling,,
and the amateur author is at rest. It is the exception, however, which proves-
the rule, if our childhood's instructors may be credited, so there was nothing
to marvel at in the production of "His Lordship " on the 6th ult., at Warling-
ham, a beautiful little place on the Surrey hills, with the rich green of the
Caterham valley lying at its feet. The majority of those devoted ones who
journeyed down from London to see "His Lordship " make his first bow behind
the footlights would perhaps have preferred lazily lounging beneath one of
those wide-spreading elms, reading the novel upon which this play had been
based ; but Mr. Armigtr Barczinski did not draw down the anathemas thfr

SEPT. i, 1890.] OUR AMATEURS' FL AY-BOX.

afternoon playwright usually receives, for there was interest to be had in the
consideration of his work. Mr. Speight's story, ;' A Barren Title," evidently
has good material in it. The plot is conventional, but not unnatural, and cer-
tainly not undramatic. When the ruthless blue pencil has traversed the bulky
manuscript and scored through many a line on many a page, the piece will shape
far better. And when the threads have been more closely interwoven, the
audience will indulge in fewer politely expressed yawns. The fortunes of the
well-born scamp and the son who knows nothing of his ragamuffin father's
accession to rank would be all the more engrossing if the construction of the
play were less rudimentary. And better and more reasonable motives should be
found for the eccentric behaviour of several of the less important characters.
But when all is said, there still remains a good foundation of human interest
upon which it should not be difficult to raise a superstructure to withstand the
killing blasts of searching criticism. Some of the acting was promising in a
very marked degree, but of whom it will be charitable to say nothing. Mrs.
Harry Winter and Mrs. Barczinski were the heroines — bright, cheery girls — well
realised by the actresses. Mr. Van Wyhe had an excellent notion of the elderly
rascal who must surely have been a descendant of Digby Grant, and played
with point and grip ; his son, none too easy a part, being very naturally
rendered by Mr. Frank Lewis ; and the broad comedy being supplied by Mr.
David Baum. But a more experienced body of actors should be engaged for
the production of a new piece — always a harassing experiment.

The Claimant is said to have remarked with profound wisdom, " Some people,
has money but no brains, and some people has brains but no money ; and them
as has the one is made for them as has the other." So, too, and with equal
truth, we may observe that some actors " has " brains but no dress and scenery,
and other actors " has " all the luxury their hearts can desire in this latter
respect, but having the barest necessities of existence in the former. But
under neither of these heads could the Leytonstone actors be classed when they
came to the Wood-house Club to play tit-bits from Shakespeare in the pastoral
grounds of that Kensingtonian retreat. Alternately the actors and their
natural theatre seemed wanting. First it was the rank grass and desolate-
looking trees that aroused the sleeping wrath of the professional carper. Then
it was a feeling that had the actors been capable, the stunted bush and tangled
undergrowth and air of neglected garden and weedy pasture land would have
availed nothing. Anon there came a violent reaction when sober reasoning had
assured us that these were players of some little calibre ; for had we not seen,
many of them before, and admired them not inconsiderably ? Finally, our
settled opinion was this : that the acting was passable enough, and the costumes,
were capital, but that the pastoral setting was hideous, and until that pavilion-
of shelter is moved to command a finer prospect, there can be no woodland
playing without artistic disaster. Music and production were alike admirable,
and with a more Elizabethan get-up, Mr. Sparks would have been quite a
notable feature as the warbling Amiens. But no romantic outlaw could have
worn such hair and carried his arms thus. An Orlando, modelled upon the
poetical reading of Mr. Kyrle Bellew, was found in Mr. Musgrove, an actor of
much promise and some performance. Touchstone, being in the hands of Mr.
W. C. Clark, who is versed in broad comedy of every kind, was of necessity a
figure of breadth and modern manner. Amusing, it must be granted, but hardly
in a spirit of a student of sixteenth century jesters. Mr. Ralph Thompson
spoke Jaques' lines with good expression, the satiric vein being worked with
effect ; and the banished duke was a presentable personage as viewed through
the medium of Mr. Conning. Miss Mathews showed us a comely and winsome
Rosalind, who needed more dash and vigour to pass scathless through the perils
of Arden ; and her sisters were pretty and pleasing as Audrey and Celia.

Some day in the dim and distant future, in the early days of the millennium
perhaps, there will arise an editor who will deal with our Mr. Gilbert as Garrick
and Gibber and many another has dealt witn our Mr. Shakespeare. He will be
clarified and perfected in spite of himself. His Grecian comedy will be con-
densed and trimmed ; its irrelevancies and inconsistencies will be lopped off or
pruned down as closely as the constitution of the piece will permit, and the fire

140 THE THEATRE. [SFPT. 1, 1890.

of realism will be applied to refine the scenes and incidents that mar the -work.
But till that consummation devoutly to be wished can be effected, we must sit
as still as may be over the drama as it stands, and bottle up and cork down the
righteous anger surging to the lips at every mention of "Pygmalion and Galatea."
To see good actors vainly struggling against the tide of farce and Gilbertism is
a sorry sight. For every stroke of poetry that bears them onward for one
moment, there is a wave of most unclassic humour to beat them back again, and
at the coming of Daphne and Chrysos, poetry and sympathy, delicate thought
and feeling, are submerged for minutes together ; only to reappear soused and
drenched and sodden. Since it must be, though, it must be ; and at the worst
this, as work for actors, is infinitely better than the absurdity of French farce,
or the inanity of melodrama. In several respects there could scarcely be im-
provement upon the acting seen at St. Luke's Hall in this comedy, under the
direction of Mr. Merridew, an ingenious and unctuous Chrysos. Mr. Sansbury,
though deficient in grace of bearing, has all the manly fervour for the ideal
Pygmalion, and throws great strength into every scene that permits this treat-
ment. Mr. Stanton's fine delivery rescues Leucippe from his insignificant
position in the cast ; and with Miss Ada Ricketts to look and play Myrine
charmingly, there is little left to be desired in their brief quarrels and reconcile-
ments. Miss St. Lawrence has perhaps not all the daintiness of touch one could
desire in Galatea, but her simplicity is unaffected and often rises without effort
to tha level of ingenuous pathos. Compared with this, Cynisca is a straight-
forward character to play ; and Miss Vincent, abandoning herself to a strong
flood of violent emotion, keeps the stage alive at more than one important
point. Miss Spires has natural humour as Daphne ; but in the presence of
actors of force, the comedians are thrown, as they should be, rather into the
background.

The Edward Alleyn Dramatic Society is one of the last to establish itself in
the neighbourhood of London, and its youth may be held to condone in some
measure the rashness of inexperience. " The Hunchback '' is not generally con-
sidered a play deserving of reproduction under any circumstances. But if, for
our sins, as our forefathers applied the scourge or underwent a process of mor-
tification of the flesh, we feel compelled to sit it through occasionally, then we
should in self defence stipulate for well grounded actors to pour out its endless
periods. The modern school of culture, subtlety, and by deduction indecision,
has its merits, but it cannot cope with the solidity of Sheridan Knowles. No-
thing in the shape of stratagem can hope to capture this stronghold. The old-
fashioned shoulder to shoulder and pike in hand attack is the only method, and
the later arts of warfare are worse than useless. To expect young amateurs to
succeed by a series of Indian file forlorn hope assaults should therefore be no
less than looking for the achievements of veterans at the hands of raw recruits.
One of the first requisites in the production of such a play is that the art of act-
ing together, of playing into one another's hands, shall have been mastered ; and
this is hardly understood in theory by beginners, much less in practice. Still
in spite of all these disadvantages, the Edward Alleyns displayed talent, of a
rough and rude kind, no doubt, but unquestionably talent. The very despera-
tion of their case, perhaps, drew from them such heroic efforts as a drama more
in their grasp could not have done. But whatever the cause, they certainly
came through the ordeal with credit. Mr. Bowyer was a forcible Master Walter,
wanting in finish and in meaning, but effective in conventional ways and equal to
the task of lifting the dead weight of a heavy play. Mr. Hippisley as Clifford
and Mr. Pope as Modus had excellent ideas of passion and picturesqueness ;
when their means of expression are under control, they will be valuable come-
dians. Mr. Minchin has humour, and Mr. Oldham a sense of eccentric individ-
uality that should find their proper place in a comedy of manners. Miss Maud
Oldham and Miss Edith Jordan are at present the stars of the clubs Julia and
Helen suiting their clearly marked styles exceptionally well and giving each
good opportunity of using a carefully acquired method, as natural as it is broad,
fearless, and firm.

With such beauties of nature as those in Ashurst Park, Tunbridge Wells, the
dreariest of Elizabethan dramas might become" interesting, and whoever was
responsible for the choice of these exquisite grounds for a pastoral setting of

SEPT. l, isro.l OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 147

" Love's Labour Lost " has the eye of a true manager. Wagner himself would
have hailed with enthusiasm such a stage and such a stock of scenery. Druid
oaks and mossy glades, arching avenues, smooth grassy swards, and in the back-
ground a silvery lake and wooded islet, for all manner of surprises in stage man-
agement. The King of Navarre never had a lovelier park when he reigned over
a material kingdom ; and as for his sham majesty of the footlights, not all the
painters' and gasmen's and property masters' genius in the world could fashion
such a wondrous house for him as this. The actors felt the inspiration, no less
than the audience, and played with an ease and spirit rarely found among ama-
teurs. Mr. Alan Mackinnon, who by common consent was credited with the
whole production, share the honours with Mr. Henry Irving, junior, their read-
ings of Borin and Boget having in them a strange dignity and reserve of power
never expected and hardly ever within the range of any but the most practised
actors. Mr. E. H. Clark, who is best in the melodramatic vein, shaped well as
the fantastical Armado, and Mr. Morris gave just emphasis to the lines of the
King. Considering the difficulties that appear to dog the footsteps of all
Shakesperean clowns but the First Gravedigger and Master Dogberry, the
comedians may fairly be called strong, Mr. Spencer, Mr. Stuart, Mr. Eichards,
and Mr. Thomas, getting a liberal amount of humour from the antics of the
comic relief party. Mrs. Charles Sim's romantic style and heroic manner are
quite in keeping with the charming Rosaline, of whom she gives by far the
prettiest picture seen since the halcyon days of the Dramatic Students. Mrs.
St. John Raikes is hardly less at home, too, as the sprightly Jacquenetta ; and
Lady Young plays with discretion and distinction the Princess of Franca.
Dances, songs, and the enlivening charm of children pages and girl attendants
from fairyland, were lavishly used to heighten the spectacular effects ; and if
the play suffered to some extent from the wealth of adornment in this respect,
few would be found to deny the beauty of the stage pictures, or to bewail the
loss of any acting which would have needed their reduction to secure for it the
prominence it would demand.

®ur

Once more a charge of plagiarism is raised against the author of a successful
play, and the consequent battle still rages, with the result that " The English
Rose "has received a considerable amount of gratuitous advertisement. We say the
accusation is brought against the author because, although Mr. Buchanan in his
letter to the Era speaks of it as " equally astonishing to Mr. Sims and myself,"
it does not seem to be Mr. Cole man's intention to impute any complicity to Mr.
Buchanan's collaborator. Here it is noticeable that Mr. Buchanan treats the
allegation as one of simple plagiarism, and loftily ranges himself in the dis-
tinguished society of Shakespeare, Milton, Tennyson, Moliere, and Boucicault.
A moment's examination of Mr. Coleman's letter shows that there is something
more involved than can be set on one side with the jaunty declaration of
" entire indifference to such charges," and thafjeprends mes biens ouje Us trouve"
and " care not one feather whether people think me original or not." Had Mr.
Buchanan dug up for himself what he calls this familiar French melodrama,
although it seems to have been necessary for Mr. Coleman to recall it to Mr.
Clement Scott's memory, no one would have had a right to do more than com-
ment on the dramatist's want of originality ; but here Mr. Buchanan admits

148 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. l, 1890.

that a translation of " La Vendetta," called " The Priest's Oath," was handed to
him with a request to found a play upon it, and the fact that it was " cast aside
with other lumber," is no excuse for the use of the materials for a purpose
foreign to and inconsistent with the one for which they were entrusted to him.
That the translation was " incontinently forgotten " is a remarkable fact since
the original has been so usefully remembered. " Priority of theft '' may be a
poor title to the stolen goods, but Mr. Coleman at least derived them from a
source in which their function had been fulfilled, and where they were of no
further use, while Mr. Buchanan took them from one whom he admittedly
regarded as a friend, and who had confided them to him for a specific
purpose.

Truth to tell, the clerical business has been somawhat overdone of late, and,
though Mr. Buchanan bases his claim to the priestly incident in " The English
Rose," on the artistic principle that " treatment is everything," it is manipulated
in the Adelphi melodrama with no very startling force or skill, in spite of the
added intensity of interest in the fact of the blood bond between the priest and
the unjustly accused man. Mr. Buchanan must be credited with having in-
vested this portion of the play with a greater proportion of the graces of literary
style than is apparent elsewhere in the same work, and this surprises us the
more when we find how feeble in its effect on the drama is the operation of the
incident in dispute. Had the revelation of the confession been made the sole
chance of escape for the prisoner, the situation would have been extremely
powerful, although, as a matter of fact, the circumstances would have warranted
a dispensation from head-quarters, authorising the disclosure of so much as
would have prevented the miscarriage of justice. But from a desire to
lengthen the play, or an unwillingness to rest wholly upon an incident, a
little too gloomily earnest for an Adelphi audience, the authors have dissipated
the intensity of effect by indicating or allowing to be indicated several
tolerably obvious means of extricating the hero. In fairness it must be said
that this portion of the melodrama suffers from insufficient interpretation,
Ihe result being an unconvincing episode altogether overshadowed by the
general and more robust interest, and that, though Mr. Coleman may have
lost something of uncertain value, Mr. Buchanan has gained nothing.

Leaving aside the personal question between the two gentlemen, which they
may very well be left to fight out by themselves, it is matter for regret that
Mr. Buchanan should avow himself in so frankly cynical a manner in favour of
an indiscriminate system of annexation whose sole justification is success.
Surely he would not seriously urge that the possession of the artistic tempera-
ment should serve as an exemption from the obligations of common honesty.
" What does it matter ? " he says ; " If stealing is so easy, why don't these gen-
tlemen steal too, and so produce successful plays ? " Why should he be so eager
to pronounce the marriage between Art and Honour a failure, and advocate
their divorce ? That a great genius may endow filched goods with his own
originality is a familiar truth amply testified to by the great names Mr.
Buchanan has invoked, and but for these thefts, the world would have been in-
calculably poorer ; but they did not rob the living owners of goods that were still
in their possessor's use, and their misappropriations do not justify an appeal by a
successful playwright who has not, even by an Adelphi success, won his right
to a pedestal among them, in inciting mediocrities barren of original ideas to
wholesale and systematic literary theft. The cribber and conveyer of more or
less unconsidered trifles is quite busy enough without any encouragement from
successful playwrights.

In furtherance of our recent observations on the change in popular opinion
with regard to the introduction of ecclesiastical matters on the stage, the
invitation recently issued by Mr. Willard to the clergy is a remarkable con-
firmation of the truth of our remarks and of the broadening of the spirit of
the age in connection with such matters. It must be remembered that in
inviting the clergy to s?e " Judah," Mr. Willard is not only presenting one
of their cloth, arrayed in the appropriate costume, as the principal character
in the play, a thing which would of itself have been considered grossly offensive

SEPT. 1, 1890.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOA'. 149

twenty years ago ; but he further exhibits the reverend gentleman as yield-
ing suddenly to a great temptation, telling a lie with deliberate purpose and
intention, and giving to it the added sanction of an oath. That the church -
going public should not only tolerate this, but become sympathetically ab-
sorbed in the play, is in itself a wonderful fact, but that the officers of the
Church themselves should attend and give respectful hearing to it, speaks
volumes alike for the catholic spirit of the clergy, and the earnest tendency of
the higher forms of drama. It is hard to tell which phenomenon is the
more gratifying.

The wail raised from time to time against the inexorable infliction of the
stage child, old and familiar though it has become, acquires fresh force as the
thing itself grows in frequency and terror. Perhaps the " wickedest and the
worst," as was once sung of the Colorado beetle, is that fiendish specimen which
is supposed to emanate from the States. The past month has given us two of
exceptional horror. In " Aphrodite Dodge," old playgoers were driven to be-
lieve that the climax of infamy in things juvenile on the stage had come at last.
" That Girl " was taken by Mrs. Oscar Beringer and Mr. Henry Hamilton from
a story by Miss Clementina Black, and the part of Aphrodite, an important one,
was given to Miss Vera Beringer, who played it with fatal intelligence and
skill. American children, we are told, are very different from our own, or per-
haps it would be more correct to say, there are no American children ; they are
only immature little men and women. Consider that theory pushed to its utmost
extreme ; make the child, rude, conceited, inquisitive, forward ; deprive it of
all reverence and respect for its parents, elders, and superiors ; endow it with
preternatural sharpness, with a tongue and voice of deafening volubility ; and a
rich vocabulary furnished strictly up to date with all the hideous attractions of
American slang, and you may possibly form some faint idea of the charms of
the character who was made the dea ex machina of the play. Such persons — it is
impossible to call them children — there may be, but their existence would prove
an irresistible argument in favour of systematic infanticide ; whilst the dreariest
solitude would be preferable to their obnoxious presence. A character possess-
ing many of these points of objection was recently given us in " The Great
Unknown " at the Lyceum, and was impersonated by no less charming an
actress than Miss Ada Rehan. This is the case of an older girl, of marriageable
age, and yet young enough to wear pinafores and carry a slate suspended round
her neck by a string. The really witless character of this part, the humour of
which consisted of profuse .recourse to American slang, was mitigated by a love
scene delightfully played by Miss Rehan, but the amplitude of the vocabulary
was nothing less than amazing. " Great sakes ! " " There are no flies on me,"
" I should smile," " On my sacred say so," " That's just lollypops," " Suits you
down to the ground," " Give him the bounce," " Who are you, anyway ? " " Oh,
cut all that," " I've got the Bard down fine," are a few of the colloquial gems
with which Miss Rehan favoured us.

Not that Americans are the only offenders in this respect. In " Sweet
Nancy " we are introduced to a very fine specimen of that kind of family whose
uncomfortable sayings contribute so liberally to the repertory of the comic
journalist. We know that children, even amiable ones, do say grossly un-
pleasant things, sometimes with and sometimes without intention, and some-
times we may prefer frank outspokenness, even if it hurts us a little, to deceit-
ful reserve in children. But that is no reason why the flippant rudeness of
youngsters should be crystallised into stage dialogue more than is necessary for
the purposes of illustration. No doubt it was desirable, in following out the
design of Miss Broughton's novel, that emphasis should be given to the bad
bringing up of these children ; this was amply done, and a little more, in the
first act ; but it was a mistake to continue hammering on the same note all
through the second. The result was that, whereas the pert utterances and
spoilt-child -like behaviour might have been amusing in moderation, people began
to think what terribly unpleasant young people these must be to have always
about you, and how great was the need for a little stiff corporal punishment. In
fact, the audience might have laughed as guests laugh at the antics of their
friends' children when they have only to submit to them occasionally for a few
minutes at a time, but who would savagely resent the same conduct if they were
constantly exposed to it.

150 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. i, 1890.

Why is the part of Jaques such a histrionic "monkey-puzzle" to the many
actors who have essayed to mount it ? To the moderate student of Shakespeare
the difficulty appears chimerical. Yet to no actor in our recollection has the
light of correct interpretation been vouchsafed. One and all they go too far
afield for original conceptions of the part, which really he who runs may read.
And herein, we think, lies their error. For it is the wont of him who may be
cast for the character to burrow at too great a depth for the jewels of thought
supposed to be underlying the melancholy fellow's musings. A palpable mis-
conception. Jaques's reflections are the reflections of a libertine old before
his time, who, having sucked the sweets of artificial life to the shell, turns to
nature as the only real good. Xothmg very profound in that, one might say.
Indeed it is something a trick with a certain class of persons to hold mankind
in general responsible for the vacuum in life its own excesses have created.
With the intelligent of this class, a meditative manner of pondering the fruits
of experience excites an interest which they take great secret satisfaction from.
They like to wear their arms in slings, as it were, for all the world to pity. But
for the most part, curiosity as to the outer significations of existence is no more
dead in them than in a polled sheep with five years' experience of pasture-land.
So with Jaques. The inquisitive boy is inherent in him yet, and for all his tall
talk, it is greatly probable that after a month's lonely self-communing in the
woods, he will tighten his girdle and walk briskly back into the city after his
restored master.

Of all remembered exponents of the character, Hermann Vezin walked
nearest the truth. Yet even he represented the cynical rogue as a somewhat
weary man of middle age, speaking his profounder thoughts aloud. Jaques
proper has no profound thoughts, and he is not weary of the world. He has
transferred his interest for the moment from people to things, that is all. And
he sucks vast content from his melancholy. His gloom is the luminous gloom of
solitary woods ; but it is gloom for all that, and not suppressed hilarity as Mr.
Bourchier represented it lately at the St. James's. Crux Criticorum! Why will
Jack Pudding Roscius study his Shakespeare through clouded lenses ? Surely
his text is plain to the naked eye. Mr. Clarke, of the Daly Company, gave us
the usual conventional reading of the character. He added more than the
conventional prolixity, however, to the famous " stage " speech. Great Gods !
as if the unfettered foresters would listen and laugh through that wearisome
monologue. They would yawn the pedagogue into silence after the fourth line.
But Jaques proper would blush to prose.

Then, too, no actor to our mind has ever " dressed " to the part. Jaques
should walk lean and ungartered — a dry-tongued philosopher — a species of
amiable Louis XI., with all the latter's cynical observance and none of his
bowelless cunning. We have met him nowadays, pointing the moral of the sins
of his youth, careless of appearances, conscious of deep experience, but capable of
strong, silent feeling — filled with what Drake calls " the humourous sadness of
an amiable misanthropy." But of whatever capacity his exponents may be, the
established practice of cutting down his part wholesale, together with the
customary elision of other valuable speeches and characters, to secure an ill-
balanced share of hearing for Rosalind, is reprehensible in the last degree. "As
You Like It," than which no play affords better opportunities for a score of
actors, has come to be considered a single-star piece.

To witness nowadays the performance of a comedy of the school of play-
rights of twenty or thirty years ago, is to congratulate ourselves on the immense
strides made by our younger corps of dramatists since then. Compare Bouci-
cault with Jones, Tom Taylor with Grundy, Robertson with Pinero. Wanting
in constructive ability that older school was not, and it possessed genuine
humour of a rather bones-and-bang's type. But in the keen sparkle of wit it
was lamentably deficient. It knew how to knock a telling story into dramatic
shape (situations may be left out of account ; they are the first formulas of the
syntax of the drama, and, as such, are generally rather shaped by the actor than
the author) ; it knew how to appeal to its audiences on a somewhat artificial
grade of feeling, and it fell into (studied is not the word) a simple direct-
ness of language that was not unattractive. But, when all is said, the

SEPT. l, isyo.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 151

school's popularity was due mainly to its exponents, and not to its intrinsic
merits. How do the proportions lie between the successful gag of talk
and of gesture, and the written value of such plays as " Green Bushes,"
" David Garrick," and that much-discussed melodrama " London Assurance.''
None of them is a reading play. On the other hand, there are lines in
" The Profligate," in the " Cabinet Minister," in " Judah," that would illuminate
any one of these from end to end, and leave it dark withdrawn. But then,
after all, the world swims deeper than was its wont, and comes up seldomer
for air. We used to have tails to wag once upon a time wherewith to express
our joy. But when we found we could clap our paws together the tails dropped
off. Then came gloves for tender palms, and the refinement of broad humour
to delicate wit. Some day, perhaps, we shall applaud with our eyelids. It is
simple evolution.

Referring to Mr. Findon's article on the amateur stage, appearing in the
August issue of THE THEATRE, " O. P. Pit " writes, in a letter too long to print
in its entirety : — " Mr. Findon says the future school of dramatic art is the
Amateur Dramatic Club, but if the profession is to be recruited from London
only, how are provincial amateurs, who play for their own amusement, and
rehearse, &c., in their spare time, to attend the necessary rehearsals for even
one of the four annual performances at a West End theatre ? All the
profession are not Londoners ; and as Mr. Findon says provincial stock
companies are things of the past, and cannot be revived (an opinion
which I very much question), how is a possible future actor from a provincial
amateur club to get a chance. Mr. Findon's scheme for recruiting the pro-
fession from the amateur stage is good in theory, but at the present time
amateur clubs are formed mostly by men in business, who, having a love and a
taste for acting, have banded themselves together and devote their spare time
to that object, and for no ulterior purpose beyond charity."

Apropos of the allusions to Foote in Part IV. of the "Bath Stage Annals,"
appearing in the August issue of THE THEATRE, the following resuscitated
specimens of that favourite wit's humour may not be considered out of place : —
Once, on a masquerade night, " Jockey, of Norfolk," the notorious tippler, asked
Foote, who was his intimate, " What new character he should go in ? " " Go
sober," said Foote. The following anecdote is also told : —

Foote, travelling in the West of England, dined one day at an inn. When
the cloth was removed, the landlord asked him how he liked his fare.

' I have dined as well as any man in England," said Foote.

' Except Mr. Mayor," answed the landlord.

' I do not except anybody whatever," said Foote.

' But you must ! " bawled the landlord.

' I won't ! "

' You must ! "

At length the strife ended by the landlord (who was a petty magistrate)
taking Foote before the mayor, who observed it had been customary in that
town for many years to always except the mayor, and accordingly fined him a
shilling for not conforming t» this ancient custom. Upon this decision, Foote
paid the shilling, at the same time observing that he thought the landlord wa&
the greatest fool in Christendom — except Mr. Mayor.

During the past month, several of the theatres have closed. "Sweet
Nancy " after a short but prosperous run, was compelled to be withdrawn from
the Lyric Theatre in consequence of Mr. Horace Sedger requiring the house to-
be placed at his disposal. Mr. Buchanan has taken the Royalty Theatre and
will revive " Sweet Nancy " there about the middle of this month. The Globe
Theatre has been closed since the 9th, when Miss Adelaide Moore's season came
to an end, and will be re-opened by Mr. George Paget with Mr. Luscombe
Searelle's opera "Isidora." There is no immediate tenant for the Opera
Comique, but when Mr. Terry returns to his own theatre, Miss Cissy Grahame
will transfer " The Judge " to the Opera Comique. Mr. Thomas Thome,
having acquired some adjacent property, will be enabled to enlarge and improve
the Vaudeville Theatre, which is consequently closed on account of the
alterations which are proceeding. The Lyceum up to the date occupied by the

152 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. i, 1890.

Augustin Daly Company closed on Saturday the 19th ult. and will re-open
when Mr. Irving resumes management with his new play by Herman Merivale,
founded on " The Bride of Lammermoor." The Princess's, which has now
been shut some time, will, if all goes well, have Mrs. Langtry for a manageress,
who will revive there " Antony and Cleopatra." The new building now being
rapidly pushed on in Wych Street for Mr. Wilson Barrett's occupation, is to be
called the " New Olympic," and will probably open somewhere about the
middle of October ; the programme at the time of writing is not decided upon.
At the Avenue there have been several changes in the cast of " Dr. Bill." Mr.
J. G. Grahame has filled the title role, Mr. Wilfred Shine has succeeded Mr.
Chevalier as Mr. Firman, Miss Alma Stanley has replaced Miss Fanny Brough
(who, after a short holiday, returned to Drury Lane for the rehearsals in " A
Million of Money," in which Mr. Charles Warner, just returned from Australia,
also takes a leading part), Miss Lilian Kingston plays Louisa Brown, Miss E.
Robins' original part, and Mrs. Leston that of Mrs. Firman, in which Miss
Carlotta Leclercq appeared. Mr. G-rahame succeeds very well as Dr. Bill, and
Miss Alma Stanley takes a broader view of the character of Mrs. Horton,
rendering it perhaps more of a low comedy one, but still acceptable and highly
amusing. The piece has run so well that there is no probability of " The
Struggle for Life " being seen for some time here. It may be mentioned at
the same time that Mr. Alexander has leased the St. James Theatre, which ne
will occupy early in January. when some alterations and improvements have been
made in the house, one of the most satisfactory of which will be the introduction of
the electric light. Mr. Hare thought it advisable for health's sake to take
holiday, and therefore on the llth of August entrusted the character of Mi
Benjamin Goldfinch to Mr. George Raiemond, who had played the character in
the provinces with much success. The new representative (who was associated
with Mrs. Langtry for a considerable time in America in high-class parts) has
given every satisfaction. The very nature of the part requires that it should be
played something on the lines adopted by Mr. Hare, but Mr. Raiemond has a
characterisation of his own, which he introduces with much effect, and also
some happy little bits of business. Miss Webster has succeeded Miss Blanche
Horlock in the characters of Lucy in " Dream Faces " and Lucy Lorrimer in
Mr. Grundy's play.

A very pretty open-air ballet was produced at the Crystal Palace on July 23,
invented by Mr. Oscar Barrett, and composed and arranged by Madame Katti
Lanner. It is entitled the " Witches' Haunt," and naturally contains a super-
natural element. The hero, Gabriel, befriends a gipsy-boy, and an old fortune-
teller prophesies that his love for Dora will be returned if he is only faithful to
her. He goes to sleep in the forest, and there appears to him Sybil, the Spirit
of the Wood, who endeavours to win him over by her fascination, and would
probably succeed, but that he produces a cross which Dora has given him as a
safeguard. The sketch is made the vehicle for some very beautiful scenery
and some clever effects in animated trees, and the sudden transformation of a
number of apparent hags into most lovely women, whose dresses are exquisitely
beautiful. There is a comic element in the squirrels, pixies, and gnomes, who
play their pranks on Gabriel whilst asleep. The characters are well filled, and
special praise must be awarded to Miss Louise Loveday for her graceful
dancing as Sybil. The ballet is one of the prettiest that the Crystal Palace
has given us.

An American journal, referring to the fact that Mr. Joseph Hatton is about
to take a vacation in America, says the author's novels invariably bear trace of
his latest holiday — the Venetian scenes in" By Order of the Czar," to wit. Mr.
Hatton is not, however, going to the States this time in the interest of fiction
only, but more particularly to see the Palmer season in November next opened
by his friend Mr. Willard, and with his daughter, Bessie Hatton, as Nancy in
" The Middleman," and Lady Eve in " Judah." There is another, among other
reasons, for Mr. Hatton' s trip. He is collaborating with Mr. Augustin Daly in
the most important work of the coming Daly season in New York. It is also
probable that Mr. Willard during his American engagement will produce a play
by Mr. Joseph Hatton, which he accepted more than a year ago. Mr. Hatton
has for many years had journalistic and theatrical interests on both sides of the

"THE THEATRE," SEPTEMBER, 1890.

Photographed by Barraud, Oxford Street, W.

MR. COURTICE POUNDS.

" O I believe me, sir, my lot is not so much amiss."—

" THE YEOMEN OF THE GUARD.1

EQLINQTON A Co.. PUBLISHERS.
LONDON.

SEPT. i, 1890.] OUR OMMIBUS-BOX. 1-53

Atlantic. He was for six or seven years the special correspondent in Europe
of the New York Times. Just as Sarcey travelled with the Francaise company
on their first trip to England as their historiographer, so did Mr. Hatton travel
with the Irving company on their first visit to America, with pleasant and im-
portant literary results. It cannot fail to be of advantage to Mr. Willard to
have the advice of so experienced a friend as Mr. Hatton, who will have a
double interest in the Palmer season with his daughter as a specially engaged
member of the company. Mr. Hatton's " By Order of the Czar," which is to be
dramatised in due course, has had an enormous sale in the United States and
Canada. For the past twelve months Mr. Hatton has held an important posi-
tion on the European staff of the New York Herald, and has been largely re-
sponsible for the editorial work of the Sunday edition of that famous journal
in London. He is expected to return to town at Christmas. Mr. Willard's
season will last until May in next year.

"The Great Unknown" was withlrawn on Saturdaj', August llth, and
" Casting the Boomerang " revived in its place at the Lyceum Theatre by the
Augustin Daly Company, who took their farewell in it on Saturday, August
16. The season, though a short one, has been successful, and Mr. Augustin
Daly, who said a few words on the fall of the curtain, announced that he should
return to the same theatre next autumn. He expressed the thanks of himself
and company for the kindness with which the audiences had welcomed them,
and specially acknowledged how much they were all indebted to the Press for
the courtesy and friendly feeling exhibited to them.

The Augustin Daly Company very generously gave their services (as did Mr.
Daly, the manager of the Lyceum Theatre) for a matinee on July 23, in aid of
Mrs. Jeune's holiday fund. The third and fourth acts of " As You Like It, '
and " A Woman's Won't," were contributed by tne Daly Company. Miss Claire
Ivanova gave two of the speeches from " Pygmalion and Galatea," commencing
respectively, " And this is life," and '; I went with Irene into the house," and
though a little wanting in fervour, her elocution was otherwise to be admired.
Miss Genevieve Ward admirably rendered Queen Constance in the last scene
from " King John," Madame Antoinette Sterling gained an enthusiastic encore
for her singing of '• The Better Land," and Miss Belle Botford, a young lady from
Boston, made her first public appearance in London, and proved herself an
accomplished violinist by her execution of Leonard's " Souvenir de Bade."
Miss Ada Rehan delivered with great taste the occasional epilogue, written for
the charity by Mr. Thomas Hardy.

Mr. Courtice Pounds (whose photograph appears in this month's issue) is
the son of Miss Mary Curtice, a well-known concert-singer. At as early an
age as eight years he was a chorister, and when only eleven was promoted to be
soloist at St. Stephen's Church, South Kensington. From thence he joined, as
a member of the choir, the -Italian Church, Hatton Garden, and used to sing at
City feasts and the Aquanum. When an adult he went back to St. Stephen's,
and was appointed tenor and soloist. He then applied to Mr. D'Oyly Carte,
who engaged him for the Savoy chorus, during which engagement he was
understudy to Mr. Rutland Barrington and to Mr. Durward Lely in " Patience,"
and sang both parts on different occasions during 1881. He also sang in " Mock
Turtles." In 1882 he had a small part in "lolanthe," in which piece when on
tour he played Lord Tolloller. In 1884 he toured in the " Princess Ida," play-
ing Hilarion. He visited America in 1885 as Nanki-Pooh in the "Mikado,"
was lent for three months' opera to the Fifth Avenue Theatre, and also went to
Berlin with the Savoy Company. In 1887 he returned to America, where he
appeared as Richard Dauntless in "Ruddigore," and also sang in the same
character at a matinee, in London. He subsequently had a nine months' engage-
ment at the Casino, New York, returned to England, and in May, 1888, played
Colonel Fairfax in the " Yeomen of the Guard." In 188i) he appeared as
Colonel Cavendish in " Tobacco Jars," and is now engaged at the Savoy Theatre
as Marco Palmieri in '• The Gondoliers."

154 THE THEATRE. [SHPT 1, 1890.

The annual examination, if it may be so called, of the students attending
Neville's Dramatic Studio, was held last month at 41, Fitzroy Square, when a
performance of " Married Life " was given, and showed at least that good \vort
is being done there, and that no pains are spared to render the students efficient,
If we did not see any proofs of positive genius, all concerned evinced an artistic
desire, and the faults that are inevitable in amateurs who lack professional1
training, were almost entirely absent. We noticed specially that the student?
had been taught to speak clearly and distinctly ; to gesticulate appropriately •
to " pose " with effect ; to express the emotions facially ; had learnt the
value of " bye-play," and to characterise tolerably well. The profession must
be recruited, and it is better that the young soldiers of our " professional
army '' should have to start with such a knowledge of their art as Messrs. H.
Neville and Fred Gartside — two actors of great experience — can impart to
them, than to commence their career with all the crudities that are so percep-
tible in those who have had no training. We are glad to encourage any in-
stitution that tends to raise the profession artistically. Those who particularly
deserved mention were Miss Alice Mackness as Mrs. Lynx ; Miss Sarah Brook
as Mrs. Coddle ; Mr. S. Prince Lloyd as Mr. Lynx ; and Mr. F. G. Brandon as
Mr. Dove. The attendance was large, Mr. Henry Neville's discourse upon the
dramatic art, which followed the performance, being looked forward to with
much interest. He prefaced his discourse by complimenting the students who
had taken part in the practise rehearsal on their admirable exemplification of
the rules and principles laid down for their guidance. Mr. Neville then pro-
ceeded with his lecture on dramatic art, the purport of which was to " impress
the necessity for certain efforts, and the importance of certain requirements"
closely associated with the practice of dramatic art, which he described as
" imperishable," founded on the most irrepressible instincts of humanity, which
could only perish with humanity itself. The speaker maintained that the per-
fection of art in all countries is the faithful realisation and representation of
the passions, and to attain that desired result, diligent study was required not
necessarily with a master, but " study from the great models Nature has pio-
vided, then the beauties of psychology, the value of temperament in the
development of character are revealed to you. Nothing must be left to chance
on the stage. Study to give a faithful representation." The different branches
of study were then described at some length with amusing examples. " Respect
the art you follow, cultivate a due sense of the responsibility and importance of
your calling. You have a great study before you, in every way worthy your
best efforts. Remember earnestness is the soul of art ; use the art according
to your own style, manner, individuality. Learn to feel for yourselves, and act
with heart and soul and enthusiasm." The afternoon was altogether an
agreeable one, meeting as we did so many who are interested in the profession.
Messrs. H. Neville and Fred Gartside have our best wishes for the success they
certainly merit.

Miss Decima Moore (the subject of our photograph) has been but a short
time in the dramatic profession, but has already acquitted herself so well as to
encourage her in the hope of a most successful career in the future. On
leaving school in 1887, the young lady won the Victoria scholarship for singing
at the Blackheath Conservatoire of Music, and studied there with Madame Rose
Hersee for nearly two years, when Miss Decima Moore was fortunate enough to
obtain an engagement with Mr. D'Oyly Carte, and made her debilt as Casilda in
" The Gondoliers," December 7, 1889. Miss Decima Moore is sister to Misses Eva
and Bertha Moore, the reputation of both of whom is known to our readers.

From the last day of July Miss Calhoun was announced in the programme to
appear as Vashti Dethic in Mr. H. A. Jones's play, " Judah," Miss Olga Brandon
having from prior engagements been compelled to relinquish the character. It
is always difficult for either actor or actress to give complete satisfaction when
they succeed another in a character which his or her predecessor has
triumphantly filled. Miss Calhoun would have made, no doubt, a far greater
success if no comparison could have been instituted. As it is, hers is a very
excellent performance, exhibiting much intensity and some power, but it is
wanting in that weird, almost mystio, aspect which Miss Olga Brandon imparted
to it.

"THE THEATRE," SEPTEMBER, 1890.

Photographed by Barraud, Oxford Street, W.

MISS DECIMH MOORE.

'Life's a pleasant institution, let us take it as it comes."—

"THE GONDOLIERS.

EQLINQTON A Co.. PUBLISHERS,
LONDON.

SEPT. i, 1890.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 155

Sadler's Wells was re-opened at popular prices on August 4th by Messrs.
Wilmot and Freeman. The house had been re-decorated and much improved.
" Shadows of a Great City," which had a successful run at the Princess's, was
the piece chosen for representation.

Mr. Arthur Roberts, wishing to appear once more before Londoners previous
to his entering on a lengthy provincial tour, gave a special farewell matinee of
" Guy Fawkes, Esq.," on July 26, at the Gaiety. The burlesque was written
by Messrs. A. C. Torr and Herbert F. Clark, who, if their work was given in its
integrity, cannot be complimented on it. There was really nothing of a story,
but the whole piece was an enlarged variety entertainment, evidently written
for the display of Mr. Roberts' drollery and eccentric humour. That he was
amusing goes without saying, and he was well supported by Mr. W. H. Rawlins
as James I., by Miss Fanny Marriott as Robert Catesby, by Mr. G. B. Prior as
Grovel, and by Miss Amelia Gruhn as Viviana Radcliffe. Miss Minnie Thur-
gate was good as Angelica, and introduced a very pretty dance in that
character. Mr. Sam Wilkinson was very amusing as Badcorn, a Friar Tuck
sort of creature.

Miss Olga Brandon was unfortunately obliged to rest her voice on August 11.
She had for some time overstrained it in the arduous character of Vashti
Dethic, and should really not have taxed it for the opening night of " The
English Rose," at the Adelphi. She was naturally anxious not to disappoint
the public, and therefore struggled as long as she could, but was at length com-
pelled to relinquish the part of Ethel Kingston to her understudy, Miss Ada
Ferrar, who played it for some nights, and, we must say, acquitted herself
admirably.

New plays produced and important revivals in London, from July 17, 1890 ,
to August 9, 1890.

(Revivals are marked thus0).
July 21 " A Gold Mine," play in three acts, by Brander Matthews and G. H.

Jessop. Gaiety.
,, 21 " Nap ; or, a Midsummer Night's Scream, "fairy burlesque, by Stanley

Rogers (first time in London). Elephant and Castle.
„ 24 " The Witches' Haunt," open-air ballet, invented by Oscar Barrett

and arranged by Mdme. Katti Lanner. Crystal Palace.
„ 24 " Dear Friends," comedietta, by Miss Mary Righton (first time in

London). Matinee. Vaudeville.
„ 24 " Little Nobody," comedy, in three acts, by Miss Mary Righton (first

time in London). Matinee. Vaudeville.

„ 24 " The Judge," farcical play, in three acts, by Arthur Law. Terry's.
,, 25 "Sweet Will," one-act comedy, by Henry Arthur Jones. Matinee.

Shaftesbury.
,, 20 " Guy Fawkes, Esq.," burlesque, in three acts, by A. C. Torr and

Herbert F. Clark. Matinee. Gaiety.
„ 30 "That Girl," three-act comedy, by Henry Hamilton and Mrs. Oscar

Beringer. Matinee. Haymarket.
Aug. 1 "Jimmy Watt," drama, in three acts (author not announced), for

Matinee. Globe.
,, 2 " The English Rose," original four-act drama, by George R. Sims

and Robert Buchanan. Adelphi.

,, 4° " The Corsican Brothers," opening of the New Queen's, late Novelty.
,, 4s " Shadows of a Great City," re-opening of Sadler's Wells Theatre.
„ 4 " The Earl's Daughter," one-act comedy-drama, by E. Haslingden

Russell. Parkhurst Theatre, Holloway.
,, 5 '' The Great Unknown," three-act eccentric comedy, adapted by

Augustin Daly from the German. Daly's Company. Lyceum.
„ 6 " Welcome, Little Stranger," comedy, in three acts, by James Albery .

Criterion.
„ 9° " The Bookmaker," comedy in three acts, by J. W. Piggott (placed in

evening bill). Gaiety.

156 THE THEATRE. [SEPT. i, isoo.

In the Provinces, from July 14, 18DO, to August 11, 1890.
July 18 •' The Muddler," three-act farcical comedy, by Hilton Hill. Grand,

Nottingham.

„ 21 "Shelter," comedietta,iby W. H. Goldsmith. T.R., Stockton-on-Tees.
„ 23 " A Noble Lie," romantic plav, in four acts, by Fred Jarman.

T. R., Jersey.
,, 28 " Light at Last," five-act comedy-drama, by W. J. Patmore. T. R.,

Manchester.
28 " Fortune's Fool," five-act drama, adapted from the French by

Charles Harbury. T. R., Stratford, E.
,, 28 " Brought to Light," domestic drama, in three acts, by Edward

Darbey. Morton's Theatre, Greenwich.
,, 31 " Darry, the Dauntless," burlesque, in two acts, by Hal Gatward and

W. T. Thompson. Royal County Theatre, Reading.

Aug. 2 " The Wheel of Fortune," three-act domestic drama (author un-
announced). Royal, Workington.
„ 4 " The Slave of Drink," four-act drama, by Walter Reynolds. Queen's

Opera House, Workington.
„ 4 "Marishka," sensational drama, in five acts, by Madame Wanda

Zalenska. T. R., Great Grimsby.
„ 10 " His Lordship," three-act comedy, adapted by Armiger Barczinski

from T. W. Speight's novel, " A Barren Title." Warlingham

School.
4t 11 "A Man in a Thousand," drama, in five acts, by Clarence Burnette.

T.R., North Shields.

In Paris, from July 12, 1890, to August 15, 1890.
July 18° " Les Noces d'un Reserviste," four-act vaudeville, by Chirot and

Duru. Cluny.
„ 21s "Les Petits Oiseaux," comedy, by Labiche and Delacour. Fran^ais.

THE THEATRE.

Play-writing.

BY C. E. MEETKERKE.

LETTER, addressed to the Editor of the Figaro, by
Alexandre Dumas, Jils, contains very valuable advice,
well worth learning by heart by every would-be dramatist
— by all, as he describes it, ' qui ont la pretention defaire
du theatre?

No better authority on the subject could be found than
the author of the most popular of modern plays, who has
his own and his still more illustrious father's experience of more
than half a century to guide him ; and one may safely take it for
granted that the convictions he puts before us are a part of his own
personal knowledge.

In the first place, he explains that the art of play-writing is
altogether a distinctive art ; and he even goes so far as to assert that
a man may be a great historian, a great romancist, a great poet, and
have no aptitude whatever for the theatre ; on the other hand, he
may be unable to write correctly — a wretched poet, and incapable of
every other literary form, but still be a first-rate dramatist, that is ta
say, endowed with the rare faculty of putting into action his own
and other people's ideas.

It appears that in Paris there are two subsidized theatres — the-
Theatre FranQais and the Odeon. It is only to these that the un-
known writer can apply, for the rest, being private enterprises just
able to keep afloat, are highly disinclined to run risks. It is, on the
face of it, unlikely that the director of a theatre, who experiences the
eternal difficulty of making two ends meet, should chance a probable
loss in favor of a beginner. "To do this," says Dumas, "there must
either be a great paucity of plays, or he must believe in the work
itself ; and the second hypothesis is not more tenable than the first.
Directors of theatres, as a rule, have no other opinion than that of the
public, and only care to provide what the public is known to desire.
The question of art.is indifferent to them, or should they be accessible
to any such considerations, these have to be sacrificed to the taste
of the crowd."

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI.

158 THE THEATRE. [OCT. l, 1890.

The only way in which a beginner can approach these close-shut
doors is to address himself to one of those who have already effected
an entrance, and this is usually done with two rather contradictory
sentiments : a strong desire to utilize, for his own proper benefit, the
peculiar faculty by which the known author has achieved success,
and an immense contempt for this faculty, which appears to him a
very secondary one. The self-confident novice, convinced of the
possession of observation, originality, style, feels to a certain degree,
humiliated at finding himself compelled.to submit to the implacable
exigencies of a calling to which he believes the privileged dramatist
owes all his success. "When the privileged author," continues
Dumas, "is genial, kind-hearted, fertile of resource, as was my
father — endowed at once with the critical faculty and the power of
combination and assimilation, he. receives the visitor encouragingly.
He makes him read his piece aloud, which, if he have any intelligence
and good faith, prepares him to be, in some degree, his own judge ;
for in hearing the work, he is not only the author — that is, partial —
he becomes actor and auditor, and he is in a position to see his
failings, contradictions, and obscurities."

As to the critic, at the end of one or two scenes, he knows if the
reader is born or not for scenic form, and he only listens to the rest
out of interest or complaisance. If the young author is talented,
they understand each other at once ; the master tells him all he
needs to know, and the debutant corrects himself. He enters the
ranks a little sooner or a little later — but he enters ; he becomes a
colleague, a rival, but as he is intelligent, he remains a friend. The
ingratitude of Racine to Moliere is exceptional ; as exceptional as the
genius of both.

But suppose the piece is radically bad in conception and execution,
the author has to be told so with courtesy, but still with unmistakeable
candour, and an enemy is made then and there. If across faulty execu
tion something original and hopeful appears, the benevolent critic
encourages the novice and says, " take your play and bring it back to
me corrected on the lines which I have indicated."

The author retires quite elated, and instead of becoming an enemy
on the spot — he only does so a little later.

In this way.

He finds it no easy matter to carry out the rapid suggestions what
to add and what to leave ; he cannot improve the piece because he
does not possess the especial faculty which alone could enable him to
do it. He takes it back worse than it was before, and then the master,
touched with the hopeless efforts of the novice, and with all the good
reasons which poverty and emptiness describe so well, is apt to say,
"Leave me your manuscript, I will set it to rights."

Nine times out of ten the work is incapable of arrangement ; to
adapt, to transform, is clearly hopeless ; at the first touch the whole
thing tumbles to pieces. A drama turns into a farce, or vice reran ;
there is nothing left of the original, but still the first right belongs
to another. He becomes your collaborated}', and, until the piece is

OCT. l, 1890.] PLAY-WRITING. 159

represented, he thinks his own the best ; if it succeeds, he declares he
has written every word. Self-love takes umbrage, imputations,
recriminations, ending in a ridiculous rupture, sometimes in a still
more ridiculous duel. C'est charm-ant!

Not so many years ago it was written in France, " Our century has
been destined to behold one of the most curious phenomena which
has ever risen on the horizon of letters. We speak of the strange
crochet, which has latterly entered into the heads of authors, to join
themselves together in twos or threes to make a genius ! "

Eugene Scribe was one of the first play-writers to adopt this
system, and it was said of him that, not content only to do his own
work, he undertook that of other people, and so transformed their
scenes that the original author failed to recognise them. He thought
it a point of honour to re-model all the plots that were offered to him,
substituting a dialogue of his own, finding new incidents, inventing
new situations. A well-known story, good enough to bear repetition,
is told of him. Dupin, having brought him a very poor composition,
he set to work to alter it completely, and in about three weeks1 time
invited the author to dinner, and to accompany him to the "Gymnase."
The play began, and Dupin whispered " Very good ! excellent ! a
capital plot ! capital characters ; " and then, when it was over,
" Diable ! the worst of it is that one of the situations reminds me of
a scene in our play."

The curtain fell, and the piece was announced for repetition by
the authors, Messieurs Scribe and Dupin.

" Bah ! " said Scribe, " it is a bad father who doesn't know his own
children."

There was a bon mot went the round of the Academy when Scribe
took a vacant chair, to the effect that it was not a chair should be
offered to the dramatist, but a bench to accommodate his forty-
eight " collaborateurs."

But to return to Dumas.

Although he quotes La Bruyere's saying, that " il rty a pas de chef
(Tmuvre a deux," and La Rochef oucault's " il y a de bons marriages
— il n'y a pas de delicieux" he still maintains that the only way for a
known author to assist a rising one is to enter into collaboration
with him ; and it is certainly not every known author who is dis-
posed to risk his reputation — to alter his line of work and lessen
himself by collaboration.

There is a pitfall, against which a recent critic thinks fit to warn
the rising dramatist, a fault which he thinks belongs especially to the
theatre of our own day, and to Alexandre Dumas in particular. He
asserts that a practical aim, a social mission, has taken the place of a
simple analyse of the passions which until now has been deemed the
proper province of the stage. For his own part he asks nothing more
than the excitement " of the more agreeable emotions and the liveliest
of mental pleasures." Anything further seems to M. Felix Moreau
to trench impertinently on professional business.

We should not certainly take a stall at the Lyceum or the Theatre

160 THE THEATRE. [OCT. 1, 1890.

Francais to enlighten our minds on certain social or legal questions,
but in play-writing, as much as in any other kind of fiction, there
must be a serious conception of life and society, and a literary man
has as perfect a right to make a phase of jurisdiction his theme, as a
Judge in Chancery would have to write an every-day novel, if such
should be his fancy.

Moreover, a lengthened study of the enigmatical dictum of "art
for art " is not likely to be of much benefit to the young writer who
may reasonably claim to make use of whatever subject seems to him
good and interesting. It will be found a far more profitable use of
time to come to the advice of Dumas in the matter, for it is eminently
clear and practical.

" What advice shall I give to beginners ? I shall advise them to
begin at the beginning : that is to say, instead of attacking the
theatre by a great piece in five acts, which requires too great self-
confidence, and may involve too great a sacrifice on the part of the
manager, to attack it by a work of more modest proportions, in one
act or two acts. It is thus that Scribe, Augier, Sardou, Meilhac, and
others have begun. In these latter days Meilhac and Halevy have
shewn what importance and what charm can be given to a piece in
one act. The secret is to have an original idea, and to smother it
with wit and fancy.

That done, the debutant should address himself to any of the
above-named authors, or to him wlio writes this letter. There is not
one of us who would not be happy, if the piece is good, to introduce
it, and the manager for whom a piece in one act may sometimes prove
a good thing without ever being a bad one, will be more accessible
and more indulgent.

The piece once represented, criticism, which has a hundred voices
now-a-days, and is more ready to discover new talent than to welcome
the old, will give its sanction to the debutant. He will have entered
into the arena modestly by the little door without disturbing anyone
— but he will have entered. He will owe nothing, or next to nothing,
to his great precursors ; he will be self-made — amour propre will not
suffer — disputes will be avoided — swords sheathed ! — and the possessor
of an unpublished piece in five acts will not come forward, twenty
years after it has been written and submitted to five competent
judges who have all condemned it, to give public vent to a suspiciou
that one of the authors, to whom it has been communicated, and who
has an accoutrement of three hundred volumes and sixty-five pieces
in five acts, has confiscated this particular one !

As a final direction, I will here set down the simple recipe for
play-writing, which I hold from the very author thus calumniated —
who was my father and my master.

If you want to write a play, remember this rule :
The first act clear ;
The second short ;
And interest everywhere."

OCT. l, 1880.] EDWARD S. WILLAKD. 161

Edward S. Willard :

A Biographical and Critical Sketch,
BY WILLIAM DAVENPORT ADAMS.

OOD Americans, when they die, go to Paris." Good
English actors, before they die, must go to America.
That appears to be the inevitable thing in these later
times. It has always been so, more or less. The
foundations of the American Theatre were laid by
English emigrants ; and from the days of William and
Lewis Hallam there has been a constant flow of English histrionic
talent in the direction of the United States, where, alas ! too many
of our ablest actors have elected to take up their abode in perma-
nence. Of recent years the flood America-wards has been fuller and
more regular than ever. Formerly an English cachet was thought
necessary to the American "star" ; now the English "star" crosses
the Atlantic, not only to gratify a justifiable ambition, but to make
money, if he can. Why should he not ? Absence makes the heart
grow fonder — " of someone else," says the cynic ; but the English
public never forgets its favourites, and does not feel offended so long
as they do not stay away too long or run away too often.

Mr. Willard is going to America earlier in his career than is usual
with English candidates for American suffrages, but that is to his
advantage rather than otherwise. He is in the first flush of his
maturity as an artist. He is only thirty-seven years of age, having
been born in 1853 ; but he has been twenty-one years on1 the stage,
and during that time has done a large amount of varied work. He
has been a popular actor in London for the last nine years, and in
that period may be said to have made several successive and con-
current reputations— among others as the " polished villain " par
excellence, as a strong character-actor, and as a " leading man " of
vigour and charm. Latterly he has had a theatre of his own, and
his future is of interest to all genuine lovers of the stage. He is
one of the " rising hopes " of the theatrical world, and, as he is about
to challenge the verdict of playgoers across the sea, the present
seems a convenient moment for sketching his career in the past,
and thus supplying material for a forecast of his possible career in
the future.

Mr. Willard made his first appearance on the boards at the Theatre
Royal, Weymouth, in the role of the second officer in " The Lady of
Lyons," on Boxing Day, 1860. He had had, it seems, no ex-
perience as an amateur, but came straight to the stage from the com-

162 THE THEATRE. [OCT. i, 1890.

mercial pursuits in which he had been engaged. As a playgoer,
however, he had carefully studied the " business " of the stage, and
that, doubtless, was of service to him in his first attempts. Concerning
his doings as a novice, I may be brief. For a time, we are told, he
" went " the western "circuit," afterwards going as " responsible utility ' '
to Glasgow, where he happened to meet the late E. A. Sothern.
By that popular actor he was engaged for a tour, during which he
was seen as Captain De Boots in " Dundreary Married and Settled."
Mr. Smith in " David Garrick " (a small comic part), and Asa
Trenchard in " Our American Cousin." After that, he played
during several " stock " seasons — at Plymouth, Scarborough, Belfast,
Dublin (where he got his first " chance " as John Feme in " Pro-
gress"), Birkenhead, Newcastle (where he played William in
" Black Eye'd Susan "), Scarborough again (where he was seen as
Blenkinsop in " An Unequal Match "), Sunderland (where Messrs.
Harry Monkhouse and William Mackintosh were the low comedians),
Newcastle again (where he first essayed Romeo, Macduff, and lago),
and Bradford (where he represented such characters as Falconbridge
in " King John," Wellborn in "A New Way to Pay Old Debts,"
Hardress Cregan, and the O'Grady in " Arrah na Pogue "). At Brad-
ford he made a special mark as Edmund in " King Lear," which, I
believe, he is inclined to look upon as the beginning of the long line
of "villains" as whose representative he was destined to come first
into prominence. Between the two last-named engagements he went
on tour with Mr. Sefton's company, playing Leucippe in " Pygmalion
and Galatea " and Chrysal in " The Palace of Truth."

Marrying in 1875— his wife being the young and clever actress,
Miss Emily Waters— Mr. Willard, on Boxing Day, made his first
appearance before London audiences. The locale was Covent Garden
Theatre, and the play " A Roland for an Oliver," in which he sus-
tained the role of Alfred Highflyer. The little piece was
played before the pantomime ; as was also a very much more notable
work — no less an one than " The Merchant of Venice," in which Mr.
Willard was the Antonio to the Shy lock of Charles Rice, the Bassanio
of Mr. Herbert Standing, the Jessica of Mrs. Willard, and Miss
Brennan's Portia. About this time, likewise, Mr. Willard appeared at
the Alexandra Palace, where he interpreted Charles Courtley in
"London Assurance," with the late Charles Harcourt as his com-
panion, Dazzle.

After this, Mr. Willard had a long spell of work in the provinces-
work of the most miscellaneous, but most valuable, kind — valuable
in disciplining and developing the capacity of the player. Mr.
Willard is no mushroom actor, springing to the front at one leap,
and lacking stamina to keep his footing. His reputation is based upon
a long and thorough training for the sucoess and distinction that he
now enjoys. " Stock " seasons once more absorbed his energies —
seasons at such places as Sheffield, Newcastle, Scarborough and
Bradford. To this period belong his Edgar in " King Lear," his
Eugene Aram, his Orlando Middlemark in " A Lesson in Love,"

OCT. 1, 1890.] EDWARD S. WILLARD. 163

his Sydney Daryl in " Society," his Horace Holmcroffc in " The New
Magdalen," and his Robert Folliott in " The Shaughraun " — very
good examples of the omnium gatherum of roles by the aid of
which he was building up a histrionic method of his own.

At the close of 187G Mr. Willard was once more invited to take
part in the performances at Covent Garden, but he preferred to re-
main in the country, going first to Liverpool and Birmingham,
" specially engaged " for Hector Placide in " Led Astray." Later in
the spring he joined the Joseph Eldred troupe, and it was while on
tour with it that he played (at Glasgow in July, ]877) Dubosc and
Lesurques in " The Lyons Mail " — impersonations which were very
highly praised. In September he began an engagement, extending
over nearly seven months, as " leading man " in support of Miss Helen
Barry. This was a turning-point in his career, in more respects than
one. Among the parts he now undertook were those of Macbeth,
Claude Melnotte, Lord Clancarty, Sir Peter Teazle, Sir Harcourt
Courtley, and Arkwright in " Arkwright's Wife " — thereby once
more illustrating his versatility. A long time was destined to elapse
before he should play Macbeth in London. Meanwhile, he seems
to hive been omnivorous in his tastes and sympathies. He received
many special engagements. He was seen at Liverpool as Benedick,
and at Sunderlaud as Charles Surface. On tour with Edward Saker
and Lionel Brough, he played Young Marlow, as well as Frank
Annesley in "The Favourite of Fortune," and he appeared succes-
sivelyasHamandPeggottyin "Little Em'ly." At length, in July, 1878,
Mr. Willard (with his wife) began a three-years' connection with the
travelling company of Mr. William Duck. This also was an interest-
ing event in his history ; though not much was to be gained, in the
way of fame, by playing such parts as Charles Middtewick in " Our
Boys," Augustus Vere in " Married in Haste," Lionel Leveret in "Old
Soldiers," and Jack Dudley in " Ruth's Romance." On the other
hand, the young artist had the opportunity of creating the part of
Fletcher in Byron's " Uncle " (brought out originally at Dublin) ; and
it was at this juncture that he first appeared in a piece by Mr. Henry
Arthur Jones — that writer's " Elopement," one of the earliest of his
efforts.

In 1881 Mr. Willard was acting in London again. During
the last fortnight of his term with Mr. Duck, whose company
was then at Brighton, he was engaged to play in the afternoons at
the Imperial (Aquarium) Theatre, where he repeated his Sir Har-
court Courtley, and appeared for the first time as De Lesparre in " Led
Astray " and Hayes in " Arkwright's Wife." This was a rather ex-
hausting fortnight for him : • to play in the afternoon in London,
and in the evening at Brighton, was no mean strain upon his physical
strength. For the next six months he remained in London, partly
resting, partly working. Under the latter head came his appearances
at the Alexandra Palace as Frank Hawthorne in " Extremes," Cyril
in " Cyril's Success," Sir Thomas Clifford in "The Hunchback," and
Charles Surface— the last-named part being played under exceptional

164 THE THE A TEE. [OCT. l, 1890.

circumstances. Mr. Willard had had no rehearsals for the perform-
ance, and went on to the stage as Charles without having previously
met any of his colleagues in the representation. Mr. Fred Leslie, by
the way, was the Sir Peter Teazle of the occasion.

"We now come to another and very decisive turning-point in Mr.
"Willard's career — his engagement at the Princess's Theatre. In 1881
Mr. Wilson Barrett was at the head of that establishment, where he
had just produced " Frou Frou " with Madame Modjeska, and " The
Old Love and the New " with Miss Eistlake as Lilian and himself
as John Stratton. Mr. Willard, present at a performance of the latter
play, met Mr. Henry Herman, who had formerly been acting man-
ager for Miss Barry, and was now connected with the Princess's.
Remembering what he had seen Mr. Willard do on tour, he suggested
him for the role of Clifford Armytage in " The Lights o' London,"
which was to be Mr. Barrett's next production ; and Mr. Barrett, who
had seen Mr. Willard play a " villain " role at Hull, concluded the
-engagement, which was destined to last for close upon five years,
with benefit to both parties concerned.

Mr. Willard's Clifford Armytage was at once recognised as an
intense and vigorous piece of acting, and the considerable
effect produced by it was enhanced by his next assumption—
that of Philip Royston in " The Romany Rye." It was not,
however, till " The Silver King " was produced that he made his
first great London success. It was his " Spider " (Captain Skinner)
which marked him out decisively as a coming man. It was long
.since anything so easy, polished, and daemonic had been witnessed
in a metropolitan theatre. The personality as well as the art of the
.actor profoundly stirred the public, and, from that day to this, each
of his successive impersonations has been awaited with keen curiosity.
His next part at the Princess's was that of the Holy Clement in
" Claudian," in which he had little opportunity for the display of his
best qualities. As an elocutionary feat, it was, however, remarkable ;
and more chances were given to him in the role which followed
— that of the King in " Hamlet " — a character to which, it will be
remembered, he assigned a naturalness and a vraisemblance such as
had not been imparted to it within the memory of living playgoers.
It was delightfully convincing, and had much to do with making Mr.
Barrett's interesting revival acceptable to "the judicious." After
this came Sextus Tarquin in " The Household Gods " of Bulwer
Lytton. I thought more highly of that play than most of my
confreres did, and I still feel that it ought to have succeeded, if
only by virtue of the good "literature" in it, and the boldness
with which the central situation was handled. Junius, however,
was not a " star " part ; and when one recalls the play, it is the
figure of the sensual and profligate Tarquin that is most clear!}1-
brought before the intellectual eye. This, I venture to think, was
one of the most finished of Mr. Willard's impersonations at the
Princess's — rivalled only by his admirably cynical Glaucias in
that powerful but depressing drama, " Clito." Glaucias was a

OCT. 1, 1890.] EDWARD S. WILLARD. 165

triumph, not only of acting, but of " make-up " ; it was a genuine
dramatic picture, boldly drawn and highly coloured. With Ezra
Promise in " The Lord Harry " Mr. Willard did all that was
possible. How inferior it was, however, as a role, to that which im-
mediately preceded it — Mark Lezzard in " Hoodman Blind " ! In
this Mr. Willard gave a wholly fresh interpretation of villainy excited
and sustained by lawless and ungovernable passion. It is notable,
indeed, that, numerous as are the stage " villains " that Mr. Willard
has been called upon to portray, they can all be readily differentiated
the one from the other. They have never been monotonously simi-
lar. They have always had a separate individuality.

During his stay at the Princess's, Mr. Willard took part in several
interesting afternoon performances outside of that theatre. Thus, at
the Crystal Palace, in February and March, 1882, he played Duns-
combe Dunscombe in " M.P.," and Lord Ptarmigant in " Society " —
excellent studies of character. Later in the same year came his
notable assumption, at the Gaiety, of King William in " Lady Clan-
carty," an impersonation which secured for him very many admirers.
At another matinee, he created the part of De Vasseur in Miss Brun-
ton's " Won by Honours ; " and at yet another, he was seen as Rawdon
Scudamore in " Hunted Down," in which Mr. Irving made one of his
earliest successes. At the Crystal Palace one afternoon, Mr. Willard
played for the first time Master Walter in " The Hunchback," a very
thoughtful effort, which he repeated six years later at the Prince of
Wales's Theatre, the Julias of the two occasions being Miss Pateman
and Miss Fortescue. Admirable and effective, however, as was Master
Walter, it was excelled, perhaps, in both qualities by Mr. Willard's
Tom Pinch, played at the Crystal Palace in February, 1883. This
was the first role of the purely emotional kind that the actor had
attempted, and the praises it evoked must have been very gratifying
to him. The vein then struck was one in which Mr. Willard has since
wrought with conspicuous effect. On the day after making this
"hit," he made another as Wildrake in "The Love Chase "at the
Adelphi, and, as he was then appearing nightly at the Princess's, we
have here an instance of an actor playing three varied parts within
forty-eight hours. A month later came a matinee of " Cymbeline,"
with Miss Wallis as the Imogen, and Mr. Willard as the lachimo,
the latter being one more successful effort in a genre of which the
player was past-master. Thirty-nine appearances at the Princess's,
as the hero of "The Romany Rye," during the absence of Mr.
Barrett, complete the list of Mr. Willard's impersonations during
this eventful period.

In 1886 Mr. Willard parted company with Mr. Barrett, not caring
to go with him to America. Possibly our typical " villain," as he had
by that time become, desired fresh histrionic worlds to conquer.
Certain it is that, from this date onwards, he appears to have
welcomed all available opportunities for showing that his powers ran
by no means in one groove. At the Haymarket he played James
Ralston in "Jim the Penman," Tony Saxon in "Hard Hit," and

166 THE THEATRE. [OCT. i, 1890.

Geoffrey Delamayn in " Man and Wife." Delamayn, as drawn by the
dramatist, is an irredeemable brute, and Mr. "Willard attacked him
boldly ; but the " penman " had some sympathetic points, which his
new interpreter was careful to bring out. In Tony Saxon Mr.Willard
took, so far as the majority of London playgoers were concerned,
a wholly new departure, for Saxon was, to begin with, an old man, and
moreover, he was a genial one withal. The playgoers and critics who
had not seen Mr. Willard's Tom Pinch at the Crystal Palace,
opened their eyes wide when they found the whilom " Spider," Tar-
quin, and Glaucias, giving form and colour to a benevolent veteran.

During this engagement Mr. Willard had played, at a charity
matinee at the Criterion, Captain Hawkesley in " Still Waters Run
Deep " — a role of which he had had experience, and for which he had
been commended, in the country. This Hawkesley had not the
" swagger " usually bestowed upon him by his representatives ; but
he had just that insinuating devilry which might be expected to
fascinate " weak women " like Mrs. Sternhold and Mrs. Mildmay.
At another matinee — this time at the Lyceum — Mr. Willard confirmed
and deepened the impression made by his Tony Saxon. He " created "
Coranto, the kindly, wise physician in Mr. Calmour's "Amber
Heart," and made it clear for all time that he could portray with
delightful effect the good as well as the bad elements in human nature.
It was in this play, I think, that the charm of Mr. Willard's
voice and the soundness of his elocution caused themselves to be
specially remarked. They had been notable in one or two parts, such
as Claudius and Glaucias ; but they had never made themselves so
powerfully felt as in the impressive speeches given to Coranto.

However, Mr. Willard was doomed not to dally long with the
poetic muse. After appearing for a brief period at the Gaiety as
the villain (Gonzales) in Miss Harwood's " Loyal Love " — a character
which he contrived to render human— he entered upon an engage-
ment at the Olympic which was destined to be characterized by yet
more studies in theatrical " villainy." It was at this theatre that he
represented successively Dick Dugdale in "The Pointsman," The
Tiger in " The Ticket of-Leave Man," Count Freund in " Christina,"
and Danella in " To the Death "—all of them very happily individual-
ized, after the manner which constitutes one of the secrets of Mr.
Willard's success. " The Tiger " was remarkable for the consummate
skill of its make-up — a skill so great that, in one of the scenes, the
audience was for some little while in doubt as to the actor's identity.
Fortunately, these excursions into the fields of dramatic vice were
mitigated by occasional rambles in other directions. Thus, for a
short period, Mr. Willard represented at the Olympic the chivalrous
hero in " Held by the Enemy," playing with dignity and force, and
showing, for the first time since he became popular in London, that
he could make honourable love with all the persuasiveness, and more
than the manliness, of the professional jcitne premier. Hen\ again,
was a new revelation of his capacity. Later, at a Prince of Walrs's
matinee, he re-appeared as Hayes, in " Ark wright's Wife " — a sort of
avant courier of Cyrus Blenkarn in "The Middleman."

OCT. l, 1890.] EDWARD S. WILLARD. 167

At a matinee at the Olympic in May, 1888, Mr. Willard
played Macbeth, to the Lady Macbeth of Mrs. Bandmann. It was an
unwise thing to do, for such a representation must needs be more
or less of the " scratch " sort, and could not be a satisfactory medium
for bringing before the London public a thoughtful Shakespearean
conception. Mr. Willard had no opportunity of showing how he
would put "Macbeth" upon the stage, or of submitting amellowaud
individual impersonation of the title part. Still, the occasion was
interesting, and at least suggested the belief that, some day, Mr.
Willard would give a memorable rendering of this tragic character.

But my story is drawing to a close. It is not necessary to insist
upon the more recent incidents in Mr. Willard's professional career,
for they have a place in the memory of all playgoers. As Sir Darrell
Erne in " The Monk's Room," Mr. Willard had the opportunity of
playing a sympathetic role, and his association with Mr. Lart, in
connection with this piece, led up naturally to the joint Willard -
Lart regime at the Shafcesbury Theatre, which lasted until a month
or two ago. With the Shaftesbury, indeed, there will always be
allied the greatest triumph of Mr. Willard's life, so far — his creation
of the roles of Cyrus Bleukarn in " The Middleman " and Judah
Llewellyn in " Judah." The former impersonation represents at this
moment the high-water mark of his histrionic achievement. Judah
Llewellyn has quiet intensity, elevation, dignity, and eloquence ;
but Cyrus Blenkarn comes nearer to our hearts— sways not only our
intellect but our feelings, carrying us away in the whirlwind of his
alternate agony and joy. Mr. Willard has appeared at the Shaftes-
bury as Captain Leslie in " My Aunt's Advice " (a matinee study in
light comedy), as Dick Venables in Mr. Law's play of that name (a
combination of light comedy and "villainy"), as the earnest and
picturesque Filippo in " The Violin Makers," and as Abraham
Boothroyd in " The Deacon " (a " character " part, which the author
has made by no means consistent in detail). But these, while ex-
hibiting once more the versatility of the actor, have paled their in-
effectual fires before his Judah and his Cyrus — the roles in which
he has secured, once for all, the definite allegiance of the London
playgoer.

We have now taken a tolerably close and exhaustive survey of Mr.
Willard's past career as an actor. His future in that capacity will be
keenly and sympathetically followed. It remains to be seen in
what directions he will turn his energies — whether he will attempt
success in one or two great paths, or whether he will endeavour to
triumph in the most varied fields. He has on his side comparative
youth, a wide experience, a distinguished reputation, unquestionable
popularity, an engaging personality, a striking physique, a really
beautiful voice, a sound histrionic method, keen intellectual
power, and broad sympathies. What will he do with them ? Will
he be content to interpret the drama of to-day as illustrated in " The
Middleman" and "Judah " ? or will he seek to shine in Shakespeare
and the classic drama generally ? or will he continue to attempt the

168 THE THEATRE. [OCT. 1, 1890.

most miscellaneous kinds of character and production ? All this is
hidden in the womb of time. What Mr. Willard's ambitions may
be, we none of us know ; we do know, though, that he has worked
hard, essayed everything, succeeded in most things, and been very
modest withal. A career which has included so many varied suc-
cesses can hardly do otherwise than progress with advantage both to
the player himself, and to those who have faith in his capacity.

Tinsel Town.

(For Recitation).

BY CLIFTON BINGHAM.

No. 2.— A PLAYER'S PRIDE.

-HEN I think of what those say who never have lived

in Tinsel Town,
How they blacken all its fairness and cry its dwellers

down,

How nothing is too vile to say, too evil to repeat,
There is not one true life, proud heart, pure thought or

memory sweet —
It makes me long to stand me up in the open market-place,
With a thousand tongues, and throw the lie in each canting, sneering
face !

* * * * * *

'Tis then that I think of a story, a story of long ago ;

I see a player upon the stage, and the lights are burning low,

She plays to a crowded theatre, she hears the ringing applause,

The hardest heart is softened, the keenest critic thaws.

They watch her in deep silence, that breaks out now and then

Into strange uncertain laughter, from women and from men ;

She watches that sea of faces, before, beyond, above,

But she looks at one face only — his face — who was once her love !

The man she loved and pitied, she can say that always now,

Without a t6uch of heartache, not a flush on cheek or brow ;

Though time was, when to think of him meant bitter rushing tears,

And misery and madness, and a dream of buried years.

But though she loved him deeply, there was something else beside,

For even a woman on the stage — an actress — may have pride !

For he, you know, was married — was married when they met,

To a woman like a picture, in a gilded framing set ;

OCT. 1, 1890. J TINSEL TOWN. 169

The cold white face, the haughty eyes, chill-hearted, callous-souled,

A woman like a statue : as beautiful — and as cold !

He had married her for her money, she had married him for rank,

And she who loved him smiled at this — only himself to thank.

But then she grew to pity him, and then to love as well,

Till twenty years of misery in each day seemed to dwell.

In something like the same strange way they grew from chance-met

friends

To lovers, without knowing it — 'twas the path that folly wends ;
Till one day something woke them from the dream that seemed so

good —
They saw how deep and black the pit on the brink of which they

stood.

They parted, though he prayed her, as a man would who cares,
To give up all and follow him, and make a new life theirs.
" We will wander where you will together, you and I, sweetheart ;
Nothing but Death's pale angel shall ever bid us part."
There rose a picture before her, a vision dimly seen,
Of two lives drifting through the years, linked, with a world

between.

" No — No ! " it was all she said : such a dream was better o'er,
And if she had said it a thousand times she would not have meant

it more.
They parted ; "Remember" whispered he, "I shall love you to the

end,

If ever you are in need of me, send for me — only send ! "
That very night his mother came, to beg with haughty face
That she would do the best she could to save him from disgrace ;
That touched her pride and woke it — but she answered not a word,
She stood in utter silence, as if she had not heard.
Then the woman went on further, she spoke of honour and shamey
And demanded of her his freedom, for sake of their ancient name !
Bitter the quarrel that followed, a fever of fierce replies,
Words that flashed upon angry lips, and hate in scornful eyes.
The woman who loved, forgot her pride, and wrote a letter that

night,

" I will come with you tomorrow ! " there was no need more to write.
To-morrow she went. She can hear to-day the hurrying of the train,
The ceaseless flash of the telegraph poles is burnt into her brain ;
That dreadful rush ever on and on, she knew not, cared not where,
'Twas the journey of a woman to the country called Despair !
Thank God, she never got there ; thank Him, she came back again
In time to play her part that night, in time and not in vain !
In the desolate junction waiting-room, he had left her there alone,
To take their London tickets — her heart was cold as stone ;
As she sat, half done the journey that seemed to have taken years,
The laugh of a little child rang upon her straining ears.
It seemed to her like a voice from God, sent down to call her back ;
She slipped through the open door, and out, and across the iron

track.

170

THE THEATRE.

[OCT. 1, 1390.

The train stood waiting for her, so it seemed to her that hour,

To carry her faster, faster, out of the tempter's power.

And as it flew on homeward, under the paling skies,

The pride came back to her heart again, the tears to her empty eyes.

Last night he sat before her, as she played upon the stage,

There was the stoi-y of her life, with one old turned-down page ;

He had his name and honour, rank and a stately bride,

And she, her work and its reward, and something else — her pride !

• *•*..••

I wonder oft, are all lives fair, hearts true, and memories kind,
Or are the eyes that see so much, to much about them blind ?
Oh, you who boast your Godliness, who no good virtue lack,
Shall all the flock be ostracised, because some sheep are black ?
Self-righteous ! pass upon thy way ; there's One who looketh down,
'Tis He shall judge, not we on earth, the sins of Tinsel Town !

Three-and-Fourpence.!

By F. GROVE PALMER.

'OW, what is the meaning of that? " said I, pointing to a
small mound, about two feet in length, at the foot of an
old elm tree at the bottom of a garden surrounded by a
high wall upon which was painted a series of scenes,
like those that used to bound the prospect in the
Surrey Gardens, and later in Buffalo Bill's "Wild
West" Show.

Above the mound to which I alluded, was a board cut like a
tombstone and inscribed thus: —

ERECTED

To the Memory of

THREE- AND -FOUR PENCE,

A True and Faithful Friend,

Who died August 3, 18SG.

Aged 12 Years.

Wo weeping witnessed his sad end,
We live and mourn a niithful friend.

" Well, Mr. Hector, I daresay
buried there my old dog."
" But the name ? "

you'll laugh when I tell you— I

OCT. i, 1390.] « T&REE-AND-FOURPENCE." 171

" The name was given to him in this way."

And my friend struck a match on the sole of his shoe, lighted his
churchwarden, and after a few contemplative puffs broke cover as
follows : —

" It's now, as near as possible, sixteen years ago, when my Polly
was a little trot about three-and-half, that I was driving along that
road that leads from Slough to Windsor — for I had a horse and trap
of my own in them days and I had little Poll with me — ah ! she ivas
a winsome little wench then, too, matey— and just by where that
little bridge over the brook, close to Eton, is, we saw an old fellow,
almost as old as I am now, with a long smock frock on, cord trowsis
turned up and showing his half boots, a little bowler hat, and a
hickory stick in his hand, limping along, throwing his right foot
about half a yard away every time, where it settled at right angles with
his left, and by his side a white curly bitch with the loveliest little
pup playing by her, snapping at her tail an' ceterer, as ever you see.
Well, as soon as ever little Poll sees that pup. she clapped her little
hands an' said, ' Oh ! dad, buy me dat per' 'il doggie ; do, dere's a
dood dad, den I'll love you ! ' And she put her arms round my neck
and kissed me, and "

Here my good old friend paused to blow his nose and surrep-
titiously mop away a speck of distilled emotion that trickled down
his wrinkled old cheek.

"Well, I was always an indulgent father, too indulgent, I've
thought since I got older, a good deal too much so. So the end of it
was, when we got up beside the old feller, I hailed him with : — 'Hoy,
mister, care to sell the pup ? ' ' Well,' says he, ' I arn't thowt o't
yit ; may be Fool, but I arn't give it a thowt, yit ! '

" So I says, ' Well, think it over ; you're going on this road, ain't
you ? '

" ' Yes,' says he. ' So am I,' says I, ' and I'm going to stop a bit at the
* Feathers ' beyond, to give the mare a drink, so think it over till you
come up there ! ' 4 Very well ! ' says he, so I drove on, and when the
mare had had her drink and little Poll was dancing with delight at
the thought of having ' the little ball of wool ' as she called it, up
comes my friend the countryman and he pulls off his hat to me — ah !
you may smile, but he did — and says he, ' Here you be, measter, I've
a' thowt it over, an' yew shall ha' the purp.' ' What do you want
for it ? ' says I, ' Well, I doant think as a matter o' fi' bob 'ud be
too much vor'n ! ' ' Well I do,' says I. « What'll 'ee gi', then,
measter ? ' says Smocky. ' I'll give you three shillings for it ! ' ' You
shall ha' it, if you'll drow in a quart o' ale ! '

" So I didn't haggle any more, but I give the three bob and the
drink, and Polly had the pup ; and when I got home, the old woman
see Polly following me up the garden in the front of our little place.
I was in the corn and coal line then and a good business I had, too,
and we lived in as nice a little place as ever you see, with a bit of
flower garden in front as the missus ivas proud on I can tell you,
and a kitchen-garden at the back, that grew all the vegetables we
could use, and more. When the old woman -saw_Poll with the pup in

172 THE THEATRE. [OCT. i, 1890.

her arms I thought she'd have had a fit, she screamed so. She swore
the little brute should never come into her place, she'd thang it, or
drown it, anything rather than keep it. So she went on, till poor
little Poll cried fit to break her heart, and I got the old woman
pacified a bit, and at last persuaded her to let it in. And when she
had calmed down enough to ask a few questions about it, I told her
its hist'ry, just as I've been telling you, and she finished up by say-
ing, ' I should think you might have found something better to do
with three shillings than buy a parcel of dogs ! ' I was proceeding
to point out that one puppy could hardly be fairly called a parcel of
dogs, when Polly broke in with: 'Dad, don't fo'git the beer you
gived the man for doggie ! ' ' What ? ' said the old girl. ' Yes,' I says,
• fourpence more ! ' ' Three and fourpence for such a dog as that,? why
whenever I set eyes on it, I shall think of that three-and-fourpence.'
And so she did. For he got called that till he died. Ah ! she was
a careful old girl, was my old woman ; I should ha' been a rich
man now if she hadn't a' died. And that's how he got his name,
which was occasionally shortened to ' Fourpence,' and sometimes on
rare occasions ' Joe ' or * Joey ' ; and Poll grew up that fond on him,
and even Harriet herself got to like him, and, yes, I own it, I liked
it too, just as if it was a child, for it was such a comical little thing,
full of its tricks and pranks and it grew up so pretty, like a lady's
white muff ; and when he was combed and washed he was as pretty
a dog as you'd see anywheres. But 'Three-and-fourpence' he was
called to the end of the chapter, so there was never no fear of our
forgetting what he cost, and 'pon my soul, matey, I believe that dog
was a bit hurt at our constantly mentioning his price that he felt he
ought to pay us off, and he did too.

" Once in the middle of the night, about three years after we had
him— we'd moved up to London then, worse luck— he barked and
woke us all up— for the place was afire. The gas in the passage
melted the pipe, and a few minutes more would have settled it, and
he saved it by the warning he give. As things turned out, it made
us think afterwards that he meant that to clear off one of the shillings.
"It wasn't more than about a fortnit after, there was fippun note
lying on the table when we was a havin' tea, and the missus swep' it
off with the crumbs — bein' a bit dark she didn't see it and she shias
it into the fire. Fippun notes wasn't so plentiful with us either, as
we could afford to burn 'em. Well that dog was on it like a adder,
an' he saved it when it was just afire at the corner. He evidently
knowed as it was valuable. That was the second bob wiped out.

"The third time, I fell out of the cart, crossing the river Lea down
East Ham way — I'd been drinking heavily — no, I don't touch a
drop, now— I've been a tote ever since— and he barked till some
passers-by came and pulled me out. That cleared off the remaining
shilling, and I suppose he thought we couldn't grumble if we were
a ' joey ' out of pocket by him ; but I always say that poor old
' Three-arid-f ourpence,' what with the fire and the note saved me
scores of pounds, to say nothing of my life, which, perhaps, he
estimated at the other onomd-fourpence.

OCT. 1,1390.] "THREE-AND-FOURPENGE. 173

" Well, time went on and we went down the hill, after my old
woman died, — till Polly was fifteen and she went on the stage. She
was at the Alhambra when it was burnt down, I mean engaged there
you know. Well, I'm sorry to say she warn't the gal she should ha'
been, and one night she — she — come home with a diment ring on her
finger, and I said ' I don't believe as diment rings can be got fair, out
of two and twenty shillings a week,' And she tried to make me
believe as it 'ad been sent to her in a little box with a letter ; but I
knew what that meant. Swells don't go a'giving diment rings to
ballet girls for nothink. So I told her to send it back. But I'd
spilte her, bringing her up, and she flounced out of the house, and the
next time she come into it was about a year after, with a little baby
in her arms, and — and — of course I let her in ; I couldn't shut the
door agin her ; whatever her faults was she was my own child. The
scoundrel — the old story, matey — forsook her and she came back to
die in my arms. I took her down in the back kitchen, and would
have put the baby on the sofa, but she wouldn't part with it a minute.
She had been walking about almost starving, near on a f ortnit, afore
her pride came down enough for her to come to me. I tried to make
her eat something, but she wouldn't touch a mossel. Her poor white
face was leaning on my shoulder, when she looked up, and says she
in a weakish kind o' voice, ' Dad, dear, what's become o' poor old
Joe ? ' Three-and-fourpence ' as mother used to call him.'

"With that, the cupboard door, by the side of the fire-place, was
slowly shoved open, and out struggled the poor old dog. He was as
feeble and wheezy as an old man of ninety, and we put his box with
an old rug in it in that cupboard to keep the poor old chap comfort-
able like. He hadn't ate his bread and milk that day, and I knew he
was sinking fast. Out he crawled and put his poor old head up
against Poll's knee, and she, poor gal, put down her thin, wasted,
white hand and patted him, and he turned and licked her hand just
like he used to when a pup, and she cried and I cried, and I see big
tears a'standing in the poor old dog's eyes, too, and all of a sudden his
legs give way under him and he rolled over on his side, and Polly
hugged her baby closer to her and said, ' Dad, dear,' so quiet like, I
could only hear her by bending down my ear close to her — 'Dad, dear,
1 Three-and-Fourpence ' is going home and — so am I — kiss me, dad,
and — and take care of my Karl.' Karl was the name of the villain
who took my little Poll away from me, and she called the child after
him. < Take care of him, dad — good-bye — good — ' but she never said
no more, her head fell back and the dog give a long, low whine and
•crawled back to his cupboard, and when I looked at him the same
night he sort of whined at me again, and then his poor old eyes glazed
over as they looked up at me, and his tail give one feeble little wag
and then was stiff for ever ; and when I come to look at the child
that I'd put on the sofer an' covered over with a shawl, I see as it
was cold and still, too, had been t dead hours. So there lay my poor
Poll dead ; her baby dead ; and her old friend the dog, dead at the
feet of her as he loved so much.

"Polly and her boy is buried at Witlesden, and there's the grave of
* Three-and-Fourpence.' "

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVJ K

174 THE THEATRE. [OCT. i, 1890.

Verses Suggested by the Love-Songs of the
Seventeenth Century.

THE PICTURE.

AY, would'st thou know

What ray dear Chloris most resembles ? Go
At balmy evening to some wooded dell,
And listen to the chant of Philomel,
Whereat all things rejoice ;
That is her voice.

Then look on high,

Where sparkling jewels gem the placid sky,
More bright by far than flashing diamond set
By cunning hand in royal coronet — :

Such gauds as women prize ;
Those are her eyes.

If thou would'st trace
The blushing beauty of her angel face,
The milk-white petal of the bindweed take,
Mingled with wild rose in some tangled brake,

In close and sweet connexion ;
Such her complexion.

And in some pool,

Where arching willows cast their shadows cool,
And sheets of spreading water-lilies grow,
The swan with graceful motion bending slow,

Doth figure, when afloat,

Her neck and throat.

Then patient, wait

Until stern winter comes in solemn state,
And in the holy quietness of night
Transmutes all colours to pure dazzling white,
In one unsullied whole —
That is her soul.

F. C.

ODT. I, 1800.] AXNALS OF THE BATH STAGE. 175

Annals of the Bath Stage.

BY WALTER CALVERT.

GAINSBOROUGH AXD HIS THEATRICAL PORTRAITS.

HOUGH Gainsborough was neither born nor buried in
Bath, yet here it was he rose to that eminence which led
Sir Joshua Reynolds to say that " if his nation should
produce genius sufficient to acquire to us the honourable
distinction of the English school, the name of Gains-
borough will be transmitted to posterity in the history of
the art, among the very first of that rising name."

Gainsborough was born at Sudbury, Suffolk, in 1727, and removed,
in his thirty-first year, from Ipswich to Bath, where he was appre-
ciated as he deserved, and was enabled by his pencil to live respect-
ably. During his residence in this city he painted, besides many
exquisite landscapes, the following celebrated theatrical portraits :
Quin, Garrick, Foote, Linley family* (in the Dulwich College
Picture Gallery), Sarah Siddons (in the National Gallery), Sheridan,
and a host of others. Mrs. Garrick said that his portrait of her
husband was the best ever painted of her Davy, and he presented
it to the Corporation of Stratford-on-Avon, where it hangs in the
Town-hall. The actor is leaning against a pedestal, surmounted with
a bust of Shakespeare, which he encircles with one arm ; the back-
ground a favourite haunt in Garrick's retreat at Hampton. Gains-
borough told the writer of Garrick's memoir, in the obituary of the
Gentleman's Magazine, that he never found any portrait so difficult
to hit as that of Garrick's ; for, when he was sketching the eye-
brows, and thought he had hit upon the precise situation, and
looked a second time at his sitter, he found the eyebrows lifted up
to the middle of his forehead, and when he looked a third time,
they were dropped, like a curtain, close over his eyes, — so flexible
was the countenance of the great actor. This portrait was not by

* Gainsborough's Bath patron, Thicknesse, relates the following story of the artist : —
After returning from a concert where he had been charmed by Miss Linley's voice. I
went home to supper with my friend, who sent his servant for a bit of clay from the
small beer barrel, with which he first modelled, and then coloured her head, and
that, too, in a quarter of an hour, in such a manner that I protest it appeared to me
even superior to his paintings ! The next day I took a friend or two to his house to
see it, but it was not to be seen — The servant had thrown it down from the mantel
piece and broken it.

176 THE THEATRE. [OCT. l, 1890.

many considered a good likeness, and the same may be said of
Gainsborough's portrait of Foote ; but, as he said in apology, " they
have everybody's faces but their own."

Although he left a name immortalised in his works, Gainsborough
added nothing to the literature of his art, but the few published
letters, relating to his professional life and experience, are very
characteristic, and bear a true estimate of the artist's generous and
kindly disposition, while they exhibit a shrewd and keen percep-
tion of art and other kindred subjects.

One evening, when this great genius was going to the Orchard
Street Theatre, he was shown, by a gentleman who accompanied him,
a letter received from a female, a stranger to them both, whose sole
stay in the world had suddenly died without leaving her any sort of
pension. She depicted her misfortune and misery in moving terms.
Gainsborough appeared agitated, and instead of going to the play,
went home, and sent his friend the following letter, enclosing a bank
note :

" My dear sir, — I could not go to the play till I had relieved my mind by
sending the enclosed note, and beg you will transmit it to the afflicted woman
.by to-morrow's post.— Yours sincerely, T.G."

THOMAS GAIXSBC

Music was his passion, or rather, noxt to his profession, the business
•of his life, yet, though possessed of ear, taste, and genius, he never had
sufficient application to learn even the notes of music. He has In-rn
known to give ten guineas for an old lute, and ten more for a music
book of no value, and then throw them both aside for the first ne\v
instrument he heard. "When I first knew him," says Mr. Jackson,
"he lived at Bath, wher^ Giardini had been exhibiting his then un-
rivalled powers on the violin. His excellent performance m;uie

OCT. 1, 1890.] ANNALS OF THE BATH STAGE. 17?

Gainsborough enamoured of the instrument, and conceiving, like the
servant-maid in. the ' Spectator,' that the music lay in the fiddle, he
was frantic until he possessed the instrument which had given him
so much pleasure, but seemed much surprised that the music of it
remained behind with Giardini.

" He had scarcely recovered this shock, for it was a great one to
him, when he heard Abel on the viol-da-gamba. The violin was then
hung on the willow, Abel's viol-da-gamba was purchased, and the
house resounded with melodious thirds and fifths from morn till
eve. Many an adagio and many a minuet were begun, but none
completed.

" The next time I saw Gainsborough," continued Mr. Jackson, " he
was in the character of King David. He had heard a harper at Bath ;
the player was soon left harpless, and he really stuck longer to this
instrument than any other, when a new visit from Abel brought him
back to the viol-da-gamba."

SUSANNA MARIA CIBBER.*

The annals of scoundrelism exhibit no worse illustration than the
behaviour of Theopbilus Gibber to his wife, the famous tragic actress.
His extravagance had plunged him into difficulties, and in order to
raise money he introduced a Mr. Sloper, for whom he professed the
greatest regard, to the embraces of his wife, and then commenced
proceedings against them, laying the damages at £5000. The Court
saw through his infamous business, and awarded him ten guineas,
while his wife accepted the protection of the man to whom she had
been betrayed, and passed with him the remainder of her life, un-
blamed by a sympathising public. Her misfortune brought some
affront upon her. Thus, in October, 17GO, she was at Bath with her
" protector " and their daughter, " Miss Gibber." The whole party
went to the Rooms, where the young lady was led out to dance. She
was followed by another couple, of whom the lady protested against
Miss Gibber being allowed to dance there at all. There would have
been more modesty in this second young lady if she had been silent.
There ensued a fracas, of course. Mrs. Delaney, in a letter to Mrs.
Dewes, says " that Mr. Gibber collared M. Collett, abused him, and
asked if he had caused this insult to be put on his daughter ? " Mr.
Sloper must be meant, for Theophilus was then dead, having been
drowned in the Irish Sea. The affront was the result of directions
given by that very virtuous personage Beau Nash, then being wheeled
about the room. Some discourse was held with the shattered beau,
but nothing came of it ; and pretty Miss Gibber never danced, or was
asked to dance, at Bath again. This brings us back to the mother,
from whom we are pleased to part with a pleasanter incident. Dr.
Delaney once sat enraptured as he listened to her in Dublin singing
in the " Messiah," and, as she ceased, he could not help murmuring,
"Woman, thy sins be forgiven thee ! " Amen! And so, says Dr.

See Chap. XXXI. " Their Majesties' Servant*," by Dr. Doran.

17 S THE THEATRE. [OCT. l, 1890.

Doran, passes away ''the fair Ophelia," in that character, at least,
never to be equalled. When Garrick heard of her death, he said,
" Mrs. Gibber dead ! then tragedy has died with her." But when he
uttered this, on the 31st of January, 1766, a young girl, named Sarah
Kemble, then in her twelfth year, was a strolling actress, playing
juvenile tragedy and light opera, reciting or singing between the
acts, and preparing herself for greatness.

MRS. HAMILTON.— 1730-1788.

, This famous actress was in her person rather fat, but tall ; she had
a good set of features, but was far from elegant ; she had black hair,
and seldom or never wore powder, a circumstance at that time un-
usual, but which delighted her manager, John Rich, to the last
degree. On her return to Covent Garden in 1752-53, she acted in
many parts of importance, both in tragedy and comedy ; some of
these parts she was afterwards obliged to resign to Peg Woffington ;
but she went on -with Rich on an increasing salary for a length of
time. At his death in 1761, his son-in-law, Beard, continued the
management of Covent Garden Theatre in conjunction with one
Bencroft. Mrs. Hamilton, having quarrelled with her new masters
with regard to a part allotted to her in "Lady's Last Stake," was
dismissed ; but was impressed with the notion that the managers
would be obliged to recall her. So that she might not be too far out
of the way, she engaged herself at Bath. One evening the " Provoked
Husband " was announced in the bills, with Mrs. Lee as Lady ToicHlij.
Mrs. Hamilton, as the superior actress, claimed the part, and when
Lord Townly had finished his soliloquy, Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Hamilton
both entered as Lady Townly. Mrs. Hamilton entreated the audience
in the most earnest manner that she might have the preference, but
tradition does not record how the scene ended. We next lind Mrs.
Hamilton performing in Dublin, where she was ill-received, and not
tolerated in any part but Mrs. Pechum. In the summer she im-
prudently married a person of the name of Sweeney (she had before
lost £2000 by her husband Hamilton). She became distressed, and
Tate Wilkinson met with her in a little company at Malton, in York-
shire, where she was acting the Nurse in "Romeo and Juliet." At
her earnest request he engaged her for the York Theatre. In January,
1772, she made her first appearance in her established character of
Queen Elisabeth, and was well received ; but unfortunately as she
was playing Lady /!r//n/j>fo/i, her false teeth, being worn out with
long service, gave way ; she retired in confusion, and was obliged to
mumble through the remainder of the part as well as she could. She
returned to London, and was well treated with peculiar kindness by
her old friends, and was assisted by the charitable contributions of
the performers. The distress in which she was involved was the
immediate occasion of the institution of the theatrical fund, which
had been in contemplation for some years. This once-talented
actress died wardrobe keeper and dresser of the Richmond Theatre,
where, of course, her stipend must have been small.

OCT. 1, 1890. j ANNALS OF THE BATH STAGE. 17)

QUIN'S LATTER DAYS.

Qum's social position, after leaving the stage, was one congenial to
a man of his merits, taste, and acquirements. In his latest days, his
power of retort never failed him. When one day, lamenting his
growing old, a pert young fellow asked him what he would give to
be as young as he ? "I would be content," said the wit, " to be as
foolish."

Almost as good was his remark to a dirty-fingered clergyman, who
boasted of what he got out of his living. " I see, you keep the glebe
in your own hands," remarked Quin. Nobody bore with his sharp
sayings more cheerfully than Peg Woffington. We all know his
remark, when Margaret, coming off the stage as Sir Harry Wildair,
declared that she believed that one-half the house thought she was a
man. Less known is his comment when, on asking her why she. had
been to Bath ? she answered saucily, " Oh, for mere wantonness," and
Quin retorted with, " Have you been cured ? " It was the Master of
the Mint, who had said, " If 'twere not for your patent, you'd be im-
prisoned ! " Quin replied, "Aye, and if 't\vere not for your patent,
you'd be hanged ! "

He was extremely unwilling to allow his portrait to be painted,
and it was only at Gainsborough's appeal, " If you will let me take
your likeness, I shall live for ever," that he consented. This por-
traitf became the property of John Wiltshire, the great carrier of
that day, who gratuitously conveyed all Gainsborough's pictures to
London.

From the time that Quin retired from the stage, a good harmony
subsisted, and a regular correspondence was carried on, between

f " In the summer of 1860, a great treat was in store for me ; I had been promised
a view of no less than seven of Gainsborough's grand pictures, two of them perhaps
the finest he ever painted, namely, " The Return from the Harvest Field," and " The
Bradford Parish Clerk." They were at Shockerwick, where Mr. John Wiltshire, the
owner of these treasures, kindly acted as showman on the occasion. We were standing
together, looking at the famous portrait of Quin, the comedian, when Mr. Wiltshire
turned to me and said, ' A very remarkable incident occurred to me once when, as a
boy and in the absence of my father, I Avas showing that picture to a gentleman, who,
as I soon discovered, was no less a man than Mr. Pitt, the distinguished statesman,
and at that time Prime Minister of England. He was looking intently at the picture
through the hollow of his two hands, when suddenly a sound caught his ear — it was
that of a horse galloping furiously up the gravel road leading to the house ! " That
must be a courier," he said, eagerly, " with news for me ! " and almost immediately
a man, bobbed and spurred, and splashed from head to foot, entered the room and
handed his despatches to the Minister, still standing before the picture. Tearing
them open, he became intensely agitated, and exclaimed, "Heavy news, indeed ! do
get me some brandy ! " ' On which,' said Mr. Wiltshire, ' I rushed out and brought
in the brandy myself ; and can, at this moment, well remember the little water he
added to the spirit as he tossed off a tumbler-full at a gulp ; he then took another,
and I believe if he had not done so, he would have fainted ion the spot. The
Battle of Austerlitz had been fought and won by Buonaparte. The Emperors of
Russia and Austria had command of it, and the coalition had been mainly due to a
brilliant effort of Pitt's genius, by which he hoped to crush the hydra-headed power
of Napoleon. The disappointment overwhelmed him ; it was more than he could
bear, and in less than, two months from that date, he sank under the weight of it.
Austerlitz was fought on the 2nd of December, 1805, and the great Statesman died
on the 23rd of January, 1800.' " This note, contributed by the Rev. E. W. L. Davies
to Peach's " Historic Houses in Bath," refers to William Pitt in 1805, when he visited
the Earl of Harrowby, who was living at that time in the Duke of Northumberland's
mansion, 11, Laura Place. — Her. Davies.

180

THE THEATRE.

[Ocx. 1,1890.

Garrick and him ; and when he paid a visit to his friends in town
once a year, he constantly passed a week or two at Garrick's villa at
Hampton. While guest at this residence in 1765, he was stricken
with the illness which ultimately proved fatal. His wit, however,
did not forsake him to the last. The doctors were discussing how

'"'.• f l.'y*

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QUIN'S MONUMENT IN THE BATH AUDKY.

From a photograph taken specially for TUB THEATRE by Frlese Green, Simpson & Co., Ltd., Bath.'

they could raise a sweat upon him as the only means of saving his
life. " Only send in your bills, and it's done," was the wit's reply.

The day before he died he drank a bottle of claret, and being sen-
sible of his approaching end, he said he could wish that the last
tragic scene was over, though he was in hopes he should be able to

OCT. i, 1890.J ANNALS OF THE BATH STAGE. 1S1

go through it with becoming dignity. He was not mistaken, and
departed this life on the 21st of January, 1766, about four o'clock in
the morning, in the seventy-third year of his age.

In the " Bath Journal " of January 27th, 1766, appears the follow-
ing obituary notice: — "Tuesday morning, died at his lodgings in
this city, Mr. Quin, the celebrated comedian, who had retired from
the stage some years." His death, judging from this notice, excited
little or no interest ; the house in which he died not even being
mentioned, though there is little doubt it occurred in the same house
which long before had been occupied by Lord Chesterfield in Pierre-
pont Street (now known as Chesterfield House).

He was buried in the Bath Abbey. Upon the gravestone, in the
centre aisle of the nave, is inscribed —

" Here lies the body of Mr. James Quin.
The scene is chang'd — I am no more,
Death's the last act — now all is o'er."

In the north aisle of the church is a marble tablet which has a
striking likeness of this once famous comedian. It has also under
it a mask and a dagger, representing comedy and tragedy, and a
characteristic epitaph from the pen of Garrick, which is truly
epigrammatic. The first lines having pointed out his mental and per-
sonal qualifications, the last end with this moral :—

" Here lies James Quin, deign, reader, to be taught,
Whate'er thy strength of body, force of thought,
In nature's happiest mould however cast,
To th-'j complexion thou must come at last"

Quin's will is not uninstructive as an illustration of the actor's
character. There is, perhaps, not a friend he had possessed, or ser-
vant who had been faithful to him, who is forgotten in it. Various
are the bequests, from £50 " to Mr. Thomas Gainsborough, limner,"
or to a cousin practising medicine in Dublin, to £500 and a share of
the residue to a kind-hearted oilman in the Strand. To one in-
dividual he bequeaths his watch, in accordance with an " imprudent
promise" to that effect ! James Quin did not like the man, but he-
would not break his word. Requiescat in pace ! His death gave
satisfaction to none but the John Dorys ; and Walpole wrote no bad
epistle on him when he said, " Pray who is to give an idea of
Falstaff now Quin is dead ? "

THE FIRST PROVINCIAL THEATRE ROYAL.

In progress of time, from the great increase of the city, the
Orchard Street Theatre was enlarged to double its former dimen-
sions, and had grown into a valuable property, but it was still un-
protected by the law, and. of course, liable to opposition from any
adventurers that might choose to erect another, a scheme at that time
in serious contemplation of the owners of property in the new part
of the town. It is well known that a very severe Act of Parliament
then existed against the public exhibition of dramatic performances,
limiting the prerogative of the crown to the granting any future

•183 THE THEATRE. [OCT. l, 1390.

patents or licenses beyond those already in existence for Covent
Garden and Drury Lane ; and this limitation was to the place of the
King's residence, and only during such residence. His Majesty*
•therefore, had not the power of extending his protection to a theatre
at Bath, consequently the security of the property in question, and
the personal safety of the performers from the rigour of the law,
would be both at hazard, unless an Act of Parliament could be first
obtained to grant such liberty.

Accordingly, a petition was presented to Parliament from Mr.
Palmer for this purpose, which was warmly and generously sup-
ported by the Corporation of Bath. The conduct of this important
application was entrusted to Palmer's son, John Palmer. After
considerable opposition, this energetic young man succeeded in
obtaining the Act solicited, which was passed in the eighth year
of His Majesty King George III., who under that authority imme-
diately granted a patent for the Bath Theatre, whereby it obtained
the rank and title of a Theatre Royal, being the first out of the
metropolis. It is recorded in the " Annual Register " as follows : —

"January 29th, 17G8. — His Majesty went to the house of peers, and gave the
royal assent to the following bills. . . . The bill to enable his Majesty to
licence a play-house in the city of Bath."

This was the first Act of Parliament of this kind ever passed for
an English theatre. The talents displayed by the younger Palmer
on this occasion procured him the esteem of several distinguished
political and theatrical characters, whose warmest friendship and
zeal to his interest continued during their lives.

(To be cunt i mi f<L)

OCT. 1,1890.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 183

©ur

"CAPTAIN THERESE."

Comic opera, in three acts, written by MM. ALEXANDRA; BISSON and F. C. BURNAND ; composed by

R. PLAXQUETTE.

First produced at the Prince of Wales's Theatre, Monday evening, August 25, 1890.

Vicomte Tancrede de 1

Timchc

Philip de Bellegarde .

Coiipecourt

Marquis de Yardeuil .

' MI-.C.HAYDEN COFFIN.

Mr. JOSEPH TAPLEY.
Mr. J. ETTIXSOX.
Mr. HARRY PARKKU.

Captain Boulignac . . Mr. T. A. SHALE.
Lieutenant Campastro Mr. A. T. HKNDON.
Major de la Gonfriere Mr. GEORGE MARLEH.

( Mr. HARRY MONK-
M.DuT6t \ UOL.SK_

Colonel Sombrero . . Mr. HEXRY ASHLEY.
Sergeant Vadeboncoeur Mr. T. ARTHUR.
Sergeant La Tulipe . . Mr. A. TUOJIAS.

Marceline

( Miss PHYLLIS BROUGH-
TOX.

Mdmo. la Chanoinesse j Madame AMADI.
llernimie ...... )

( Miss FLORENCE
Claudino ........ | DARLEY.

Mile. Therese . . . . Miss ATTALIE CLAIRE.

Unlike most of the comic operas that we have given us in England'
which are the work of foreign authors and composers, " Captain
Therese" was written especially for a London audience, and had not
been tried abroad before it was first produced at the Prince of Wales's.
The plot is a good deal involved and somewhat inconsequential, but
there is in the original idea sufficient drollery for a groundwork, on
.which the respective representatives of the characters have built up
some laughable situations, the humour of which has b^en considerably
increased since the opening night, whilst, on the other hand, the en-
tire performance, which then occupied nearly four hours, has been
most judiciously curtailed to three. The Marquis de Vardeuil has
arranged fora marriage de covenance between the Vicomte Tancrede
de la Touche and his daughter, Mile. Therese. The Vicomte, a gay
young rake, without caring particularly about the union, accepts the
situation, but Therese strongly objects. She has been educated in a
convent, and has never set eyes upon her future husband, but has,
from her childhood, had a lover in her cousin Philip de Bellegarde.
He is equally fond of her, so this family arrangement is anything
but to their liking. The Vicomte, in his amorous escapades, has been
smitten with Mercedes (who is only spoken of, but not seen), the
young wife of Colonel Sombrero, and to forward his views, as she
has never seen either himself or Philip, assumes the latter's name, as
the coquettish Mercedes has been heard to express a wish to be in-
troduced to him. The Vicomte's visit is discovered, and poor Philip
gets the blame, and, in consequence, is ordered off to his uncle's
chateau. There he is soundly rated by his uncle and his aunt, Mdme.
la Chanoinesse Herminie, who look upon him as a Lothario ; but he
meets his lady-love, and they vow constancy, for she will not believe
in the stories that are told of him. Philip is ordered close confine-
ment in his chamber, but being determined to get back to camp to
clear his character, he lets himself down from his window in private
clothes, leaving his uniform. He is no sooner gone .than an order
comes for him to take a batch of recruits to the front. Therese fore-
seeing the disgrace that will be brought upon him by his absence
from duty, assumes his uniform and name, and prevails on her aunt
La Chanoinesse and M. Duvet, the notary (who has been -summoned
to draw up the marriage contract), to accompany her in the disguise

184 THE THEATRE. [OCT. 1, 1890.

of the two sergeants who were in charge of the raw levies, but whom
her maid, Marceline, has made tipsy. The maid also joins the party
in the character of a vivandiere. Arrived at the camp, their troubles
begin at once, for instead of the Marquis, whom they reckoned on
finding in command of the troops, Colonel Sombrero is temporarily
in office, and as he is a very martinet, he puts them to considerable
inconvenience from their lack of military knowledge. Worse than
this, however, is his desire to punish the Philip de Bellegarde, who he
learns has been flirting with his wife. Here he is in a fix, for he has
Therese as one Philip, Tancrede, who still assumes the character, as
another, and the real Philip as a third. The Colonel puts them all
under arrest, and tries them all by an amusing travesty of a court
martial. Happily, the Marquis returns to resume his command, and
identifies the several parties, who stood a good chance of all being shot.
Tancrede owns to his misdemeanours, refuses the hand of Therese,
which is bestowed on Philip, and Marceline pairs off with M. Duvet.
My province is only to deal with the acting and the book ; M. Plan-
quette'rf share in the opera I leave to my musical confrere. As to the
book, it contains some "happy thoughts" from Mr. Burnand, such as
Tancrede's bold assertion that " a soldier has no business with a wife
of his own," and the old Chanoinesse's explanation that "to love is
an irregular verb, which does not require a third person present," but
as a rule the libretto is none too lively a specimen of English adapta-
tion. The lyrics, some of which Mr. Gilbert a Becket has contributed,
are above the average. Mr. Hayden Coffin has never before acted
with such spirit ; he was quite gay and jaunty. Mr. Joseph Tapley,
too, was more animated and natural in his manner, though occasionally,
from excess of zeal, he was a trifle too melodramatic. Mr. Monkhouse
was very amusing as the notary, a superstitious gentleman, who, having
been told by a gipsy that he will not be safe under a roof until a cer-
tain date is passed, ludicrously expresses his fear at ever sleeping in a
house. He was well seconded by Miss Phyllis Broughton, with whom
his scenes principally lie, and who has a charming and graceful
mazurka to dance. Mr. Henry Ashley burlesqued the jealous husband
and strict disciplinarian capitally in Colonel Sombrero ; and Mr.
Harry Parker was quietly droll as the old Marquis. Madame Amadi
was a valuable aid in her character ; and Miss Florence Darley played
her small part very well. Miss Attalie Claire, an American lady, is
quite new to England, but made a favourable impression. She was
very nervous on the opening night, and did not do herself justice.
The remainder of the characters were well-played, and the chorus
excellently drilled. As " the date of the action of the play is between
1585 and 1590, when the Duke of Mayenne was assisted in his struggle
for the throne of France by the troops of Philip of Spain," there is
ample scope for handsome armour and gorgeous uniforms, of which
the management has lavishly availed itself, the designs of the dresses
being most literally and tastefully carried out by Messrs. Nathan and
Mons. and Mdme. Alias. The scenery, which is very beautiful, is
supposed to represent the country about Dijon ; and the opera was
produced in the most effective manner by Mr. Charles Harris. The
principals and the composer were called at the end of the performance,
but no great anxiety was expressed for the appearance of the authors.
On witnessing the " Therese " a second time, I found that several of
the characters had worked up their parts themselrcs to their very
great improvement, and that the whole went much more gaily.

OCT. 1.1890.J OH E PLAY-BOX. 185

"THE DEACON."

Comedy Sketch in two acts, by HENRY ARTHUR JONES. -
Produce,! for the first time", at the Shaftesbury Tneatre, Wednesday Afternoon, August 27, 1890.

Abraham Boothroycl .. .. Mr. WILLARD.
Tom Dempster Mr. C. FULTON.

Rosa Jervoise Miss ANNIE HILL.

Mrs. Bolingbroka .. .. Mrs.F.H. MACKLIN.

Tibbetts Mr.Huun HAKTING.

It is generally Understood that Mr. Jones wrote this piece some
years ago, in fact about the same time as he did " A Clerical Error."
This might almost be gathered from the construction, which truly
exposes the prentice hand. The dialogue, however, is good, and there
is the same keen perception as usual of the weaknesses of human nature.
Even all those years ago, the author must have had the same con-
viction that plays should be written with a purpose, for " The Deacon "
is evidently intended to hold up to ridicule the narrow-mindedness
and bigotry of those in high places, who never having entered the
doors of a theatre, rail at it as everything that is bad, and not content
with satisfying their own scruples of conscience, do their utmost to
persuade others to their way of thinking. Of such is Abraham Booth -
royd, '' Wholesale Bacon Factor, Mayor, and Senior Deacon of
Ebenezer Chapel, Chipping Padbury-on-the-Wold." He is a shining
light among his fellows ; he looks upon a playhouse as all that is
wicked, and stage players as utterly beyond redemption, though he
has never been to a theatre or spoken to a " mummer." It can be
imagined then that his adopted son, Tom Dempster, is in a fright
when he hears that the " deacon " is coming to town, for Tom is en-
gaged to Rosa Jervoise, a young actress, and he wants to go and see
her play that night. Mrs. Bolingbroke, an actress, " the Juliet of 15
years ago," is herbelf half in love with Tom, and so she lays a wager
with him that she will persuade old Boothroyd to go to a play with
her. When he arrives, she proves herself a wonderful actress and a
clever woman. She natters the bacon factor and coquets with him
till he is almost at her feet, and he confides to her that one reason he
has for his dislike to stage players is that his only daughter ran away
with a strolling actor, and that he never saw her again before she
died. He is going to an indignation meeting convened to prevent
Exeter Hall being sold and converted into a theatre of varieties. Mrs.
Bolingbroke keeps him in talk till it is too late to attend the meeting,
and then she carries him off nolens volens to the play, and he goes
out saying that he is determined not to be amused — a little weak, one
would say, in a man who has risen to such a position, to give up his
life-long convictions so readily. However, there it is, and later he ex-
hibits even greater weakness. He returns perfectly crazy with the
enjoyment he has experienced ; he will go to the play every night, he
will build a theatre in his native town and make all the people he
employs go to it, and as to the Juliet he saw, why she is an angel,
and he would like to be introduced to her. Need I say that she is in
attendance, and that in her the deacon finds the only child of his
dead daughter ! — a child of ten could not but have foreseen this. Mr.
Jones's work is very properly called a sketch ; it is not a play, but it
just fitted Mr. Willard with a character which he made thoroughly
human in its little foibles, so readily succumbing to the fascination
of the pretty face of a woman of the world. His make-up was per-
fection, and his acting could not have been improved upon. Mrs.
Macklin payed remarkably cleverly, and did not the least overdo the
•coquetry of the character, but I could not quite understand why the
author robbed it of some sympathy by leading one to suppose that
had Mrs. Bolingbroke been able, she would have taken the man she

186

THE THEATRE.

[OCT. 1, 18'JO.

loved from the girl she had befriended and, indeed, almost held the
place of a mother to. Tom Dempster and Rosa Jervoise were very
neatly played, and the piece was received with every mark of satis-
faction— indeed, it has been repeated, and Mr. Willard takes it with
him to America as part of his programme there. I may mention that
on the same afternoon, Mrs. Willard appeared as Giannina in " The
Violin Makers " and embodied the character in a sweet and
sympathetic manner.

"A MILLION OF MONEY."

A new military, sporting and spectacular drama, in five acts, by HE.VIIY TETTITT and AUGUSTUS

HARRIS.
First produced at Drury Lane Theatre, Saturday, September 6, 1890.

Elsie Drummond
Lady Sand son
Mrs. Mario w
Daniel Whctsto
Jim Boulter..
John Pawter
Madame Ribob
Ada Brooks ,
Francois

Harry Dunstable
Major Belgrave . .
Tom Cricklewood
Geoffrey St. Clair
Dick Bounder . .
Kev. Gabriel.. ..
Maythorne . .
Prank Hastings..
Lord Heatherdown
Mary M»ythr>rne
Hetty Nestledown
Stella St. Clair ..
Xance Lee . .

Mr. CHARLES WARNER.
Mr.HERBKRT STANDING
Mr. HARRY NICHOLLS.
Mr. CHARLES GLEXNY.
Mr. FRED SHEPHERD.

Mr. ALLEN* BEAUMONT.

Mr. MARK QUINTON.
Mr. Guv STAN TON.

MisgjESSIK MlLLWARD.

Miss FANNY BRon.n.
Miss ALICE LINCAKD.

MUs Ll/./IBCLAREMONT.

Reginald Beaum
Sir Herbert . .
Beech wood..

>nt

Miss HELENA D.VCRE,
Miss LILIAN AUJHUK.
MUs OLLIFFE.
Mr. A. P. PHILLIPS.
Mr. S. CALHAKM.
Mr. F. DUUKLL.
Miss MAY PALKREY.
Miss LILY MAKTIN.
Mr. RONALD POWER.
Mr. F. STONKR.

•Mr. FRANK HARRISON.

Messrs. Pettitt and Harris's drama scored a thorough success on
the opening night, for it contained all those moving incidents and
struggles between vice and virtue so dear to the Drury Lane
audiences. There is a certain amount of novelty about the authors'
construction, for the villain of the play is checkmated from the
first in each of his attempts on the honor and prosperity of his in-
tended victim. As a rule writers of melodrama allow the wicked to
prosper until the final act, when he is generally discovered in his
nefarious proceedings, mostly through the instrumentality of a
comic man with a good heart, and is led off handcuffed or commits
suicide. Some of the audience, I dare say, will be almost dis-
satisfied that punishment is not dealt out in some shape or form on
the wicked major who tries so hard to possess himself of the greater
portion of a " Million of Money." But perhaps the authors have
been right in this, for I fancy in this world the dishonest very
frequently contrive to keep their ill-gotten gains, and are often
accepted by the world generally in consequence of their success,
on nearly an equal footing with the most respectable of the com-
munity. The hero, Harry Dunstable, is the ward of the Rev.
Gabriel Maythorne. He has been brought up from childhood in his
household, and an affection has sprung up between him and Mary
Maythorne the parson's daughter. The clergyman has evidently
some doubts as to the steadiness of Harry, who is in the army, and hav-
ing but a small allowance from a rich uncle, has rather over-run the
constable. From a betting transaction he is very short of money, and
borrows £300 from Dick Bounder, a low bookmaker and creature of
Major Belgrave, the villain of the play. The Major has re;ill\
found the money, and, foreseeing that Harry will have some diiliculty
in repaying it, has advanced it in order that he may put pressure on
the debtor, so that the knowledge of his liabilities may come to Mr.
Maythorne's ears, which will probably lead to a separation between
Harry and Mary, for whom the Major has, strange to say for a man
of his sort, conceived a violent affection. That which he foresees
comes to pass ; Harry is served with a writ in the presence of Mary
and tha clergyman, who at once says that all communication betwivn

OCT. 1. 1890.]

OUR PLAY-BOX.

187

the young fellow and his daughter must cease, and that a marriage is
quite out of the question ; when Harry considerably astonishes every-
one by announcing that he and Mary are already married. Just
at this moment a lawyer — Daniel Whetstone — informs him that
the rich uncle is dead, and that Harry has come into a million of
money ; the Major having, only the instant before this, offered to
lend Harry the £300, for which the young soldier is intensely grate-
ful, although he little thinks that Belgrave has done this
merely with a view of obtaining an ascendancy over him.
In the next act we find that Harry is spending his money
right royally. Amongst his other tastes, he has developed a
liking for the turf. Major Belgrave who is now his greatest

friend, has, through Harry's valet, obtained possession of his private
cipher and uses it to telegraph to his trainer, John Pawter, telling
him not to run a horse called White Stockings for the Derby, and
makes a very big book accordingly on the event. He also intro-
duces him to a notorious but beautiful woman, Stella St. Clair.
Harry, only too readily, falls under her influence, and offers her a seat
on his drag for the races. Fortunately, however, he discovers in
time that his cipher has been used. White Stockings duly runs and
wins, and so upsets the plans of the conspirators. Stella is the wife

188

THE THEATRE.

[OCT. 1, 1890.

of Geoffrey St. Glair, a man who has been brought to ruin and penury
through her and her friend, Major Belgrave. The husband is des-
perately incensed against her, and is almost insane from drink and
the unsettled life which he leads. He is seeking the means to expose
her and her accomplice, on both of whom he is determined to be
revenged, and with this view he allows himself to be made the tool
of the Major, and apparently enters into their plot. The connection
between Stella and Harry is to be allowed to go on until it is
patent to the world that Geoffrey St. Glair shall be able to sue for a
divorce and obtain heavy damages, of which he is to have his share
with his wife and the Major. By these means also, Belgrave hopes
to separate Mary from her husband, and that she will legally free
herself and be in a position to accept Belgrave. The third act takes
place in the exhibition grounds. The Major so arranges that Stella

$TELiA 9>r

and Harry shall meet. The beautiful fiend tells her lover that it
must be for the last time, that her reputation is suffering, and that
she can no longer trust herself ; that she loves him, and therefore,
for her own sake, must go away. Harry, in a weak moment, yields
to the ascendancy she has obtained over him and entreats of her to
stay with him. His wife overhears this, and tells him that for the
future they must be strangers. Geoffrey St. Glair now has his re-
venge. He exposes the plot that has been hatched against Harry,
and the villainy of Major Belgrave. He lays open the whole life of
the woman who bears his name, but in doing this, the excitement it
causes in him is so great that he is seized with a fit and dies. In the
following act Harry appears to be going headlong to destruction. He

OCT. i, 1890.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 189

has invested large sums in a bubble company, of which Belgrave was
the promoter, and rum stares him in the face. Stella, who has been
living under his protection, now comes out in her true character. As
she imagines he can no longer support her extravagance she dismisses
him, telling him that she has never cared for him, and that she has
had her revenge for the scorn with which his wife has treated her.
The scales fall from his eyes, and Harry determines to try and
redeem the past. His regiment is ordered on immediate active ser-
vice, and we see the troops prepared to march. Mary, in the hopes
that her husband has repented, comes to Wellington Barracks pre-
pared to grant him a last interview, but there she sees Stella, who in
the meantime has entrapped Frank Hastings, a mere beardless youth,
but very wealthy, into a marriage with her ; and as Mary is not aware of
this, she is led to suppose that Stella means to accompany Harry
Dunstable, and, therefore, when he pleads for pardon, Mary is
obdurate and unforgiving. The last act takes place in Dunstable
Hall, which is liable to be sold under a mortgage, of which Belgrave
has managed to obtain possession. Here Mary has a dream, which is
realised to the audience. As she sits in an old tapestried chamber,
the scene is rendered quite dark, and then, in an instant, we are
transported to a " reef on the Indian Ocean." The vessel in which
Harry and the troops have sailed has evidently been wrecked, and
the only survivors are himself, Stella, and her husband, Frank
Hastings. The latter, who has discovered what a notorious creature
his wife has been in the past, is only seeking for an opportunity to
revenge himself by killing her. She throws herself on the protec-
tion of Harry, and when her husband sleeps from exhaustion, she
confesses to the man she so much injured the last wrong she has,
done him in allowing his wife to believe that she was still his mis-
tress, and, almost as she makes the only reparation she can, she falls
dead. The scene then is rapidly changed back to the room in Dun-
stable Hall. Hetty Nestledown is kneeling at Mary's side, and is
gently breaking to her the news that intelligence has been received
of Harry, and when she has been gradually prepared for the joyful
shock, he appears, and husband and wife are reconciled. The utter
discomfiture of Major Belgrave is brought about by the fact that
the shares which Harry had held in the supposed bubble company
prove to be of immense value. The humourous characters in the
play are those of Hetty Nestledown, a good-hearted, outspoken,
pretty, but coquettish girl, who pairs off with Tom Cricklewood, a
young gentleman who cannot quite make up his mind whether he
will go into the church or turn comic singer. His fate is decided by
his being plucked. In the hands of such clever artists as Miss
Fanny Brough and Mr. Harry Nicholls, these parts were bound to be
amusing. Dick Bounder, too, is a droll character in the hands of Mr..
Fred Shepherd, though I think he might have made it a little more
refined, as such a cad as he makes him would scarcely be tolerated
by even a fast set. Mr. Herbert Standing is always good as a polished
villain, and his present character fits him exactly ; it could not be
better played. Mr. Charles Warner, who made his re-appearance in
England, was very warmly welcomed, and appeared to be as acceptable
to a Drury Lane audience as he had been in the same line of character
at the Adelphi. The same may be said of Miss Jessie Millward. Mr.
Charles Glenney fairly brought down the house by his powerful
representation of the half-crazed Geoffrey St. Clair. His frenzied
bursts of passion, his semi-idiotic laughs, and exhibition of low

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI. L

190 THE THEATRE. [OCT. 1, 1890.

cunning, were triumphs, and obtained for him a special call. Miss
Alice Lingard, by her fascination of manner, cleverly concealed the
depravity of the woman who had lured so many to their ruin. Her
death scene, too, was impressive and touching, and she added much
to the success of the piece. Mr. Mark Quinton was very good as
Frank Hastings ; and Mr. Guy Sfcanton played the small part of Lord
Heatherdown neatly. The other representatives in the cast were
efficient. Mr. Agustus Harris, who produced the play, almost surpassed
himself in the various tableaux that he had arranged. The scene at
the races, with its real drags and horses, the fotir-in-hand actually
being driven off by Mr. Charles "Warner — in fact all the details that
we see on Epsom Downs were correctly copied, and faithfully repro-
duced, and created quite a furore ; so did the march out from
Wellington Barracks of the troops, preceded by their band — a wonder-
fully well-managed stage effect ; and the reef on the Indian Ocean is a
triumph of scenic display. Another remarkably pretty scene, too,
was the parsonage, with sportsmen going to a meet in the back-
ground. The interior of Belgrave's chambers in Piccadilly, of
Squander Mansion, and Dunstable Hall, were perfect in their
Issigns, and rich in the extreme. The " illuminated fete " in the
exhibition grounds was also wonderfully true to the original. On
the first night the play occupied four hours and a quarter, but this
was not to be wondered at, considering the heavy change of scenery
which naturally took some time to get into perfect working order,
but the performance has now been got within reasonable limits, and
will take rank as one of the most successful productions ever seen at
Drury Lane.

"TRUTH."

Comedy in three acts, by Buoxsox HOWARD.
Revived at the Criterion Theatre, Thursday evening, September 11, 1890.

Mr. Alfred Sterrv. . . . Mr. T. G. WARKKX.

Sir Partridge Compton Mr. W. BLA.KKLKY.

Mr. John Penrvn . . .. Mr. G. GIDUKXS.

.Mr. Frederick Pry .. .. Mr. A. BOUCICAILT.

Mrs. Dorothy Ste'rry . . Miss H. FOKSYTII.

Prudence MUs B. TCR&ias.

Patience Miss M. HAHDIXCI:.

Mrs. M'X.imaru .. .. Miss K. S. KIT/.UOY.

Mr-. T uttle Miss MAUI.V DAI.V.

Jumps Miss K. VIM.NI..

Lady Compton .. .. Miss F. FUAX( K-.

After a lapse of eleven years (for this farcical comedy was originally
produced here February 8, 1879, after having been done in America
under the title of " Hurricanes ") " Truth," announced several times,
has actually seen the light again. Its weakness lies in the fact that
so much of the second act is a repetition of the first, and that it
closely resembles several other farcical comedies that have given
satisfaction ; but its dialogue is clever, and there is nothing in any
way objectionable in the fun. On its first production in London,
Mr. Alfred Sterry was played by Mr. Charles Wyndham, Sir Partridge
Compton by the late W. J. Hill, Mrs. Tuttle by Mrs. Stevens, John
Penryn by Herbert Standing, and Mrs. Alfred Sterry by Miss Mary
Rorke ; only one of the original cast remains, Miss E. Vining, who
then, as now, was a most amusing Jumps, the waiting-maid. The
situations turn on Sterry, who has married a sedate, loving little
Quakeress, being seduced by his jovial old roue friend, Sir Partridge
Compton, to attend, with his two friends, Penryn and Fry, engaged
to Prudence and Patience, a masked ball in London, they giving out
that they have been obliged to remain all night at the meeting "to
consolidate the vested interests of the working man." Of course, they
return home very sleepy and yawny, and Mrs. Tuttle, the strong-
minded mother-in-law, having very shrewd suspicions on the subject

OCT. 1,1890.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 191

of their absence, turns eavesdropper and overhears their conversation
as to the various charming partners they have danced with the night
before. She imparts her ill-gotten knowledge to the rest of the
women folk, who are melted to tears by the duplicity of the gay
deceivers. These in their turn make peace for a time by saying that
they were preparing a pleasant little surprise for the anniversary of
Mrs. Sterry's wedding day, in taking part in a charade that was
rehearsed at the house of Mrs. McNamara. They have reckoned
without their hostess, however, for she suddenly appears on the
scene and announces that she has been in Bath for the preceding
three weeks. So there is nothing for it but that the gentlemen
should tell the plain unvarnished " truth," which they accordingly
do. They are once again taken to the arms of their respective wives
and sweethearts ; they have acquired a lesson, that it is better to
learn that a woman should be trusted, and the mischief-making Mrs.
Tuttle takes her departure in high dudgeon at the weakness of her
sex. I should have preferred to have seen Mr. Wyndham as Alfred
Sterry again ; he is so at home in this sort of character. Mr. T. G.
Warren is not quite light enough for this one in particular. (Mr.
Cyril Maude was to have played the part, but is only just recovering
from an accident that injured his knee). Mr. W. Blakeley, as a
middle-aged gay gentleman, who makes a Chancery suit his constant
excuse for his pleasure visits to town, was excellent ; and so was
Mr. George Giddens, the veriest of humbugs, who pretends that
veracity is his forte, and yet is the cleverest story-teller of them all.
Mr. Aubrey Boucicault was amusing as the young gentleman who
has to father Penryn's perversions of the truth. Miss Maria Daly
took her character too much an seri-eiix ; there must be a fund of
grim humour in a woman who admits that she has prevented her
late husband from gadding about by invariably locking up his
wooden leg when the clock struck ten. Miss Helen Forsyth showed
herself possessed of a very pretty vein of comedy as the confiding
young wife. Miss F. Frances, rather more strong-minded, was
amusing in calling her truant husband over the coals ; and Miss E.
Terrissand Miss Hardinge looked pretty and shed the necessary amount
of tears with a due sense for the humours of the situation. We had
an actress, new to London, I believe, in Miss Emily S. Fitzroy, an
Australian lady of handsome presence and good clear delivery, who
should prove very useful in certain lines of character. The revival
caused a good deal of healthy laughter, and was, taken altogether, a
success.

" RAVENSWOOD."

Play in four acts by HERMAN MERIVALE, from the story of " The Bride of Lammermoor,"

Music specially composed by Dr. A. C. MACKENZIE.
First produced at the Lyceum Theatre, Saturday, September 20, 1890.

Kil^ar U:ivcn^\vi)(i ! . .
Haystou of Bucklaw. .
Caleb Balderstone ..
Craiirensfelt

Mr. IRVINT;.
Mr. TERRISS.
Mr. MACKINTOSH.
Mr. WEN.WAX.

Moncricff . .
Thornton
A Priest
Lockhanl

Mr. F. TYARS.
Mr. HAVILAND
Mr. LACY.
Mr. DAVIS

Sir William Ashum . .
The Man (His of A thole
Bide-the-Berit . .

Mr. ALFRED BISHOP.
Mr. P. H. MACKLIN.
Mr. H. HOWE.

Lady Ashton
Ailsie Gourlay
Annie Winnie

Miss LE TIII HUB.
Miss MARRIOTT.
Mrs. PAUNCEFORT.

Henry Ashton . .

Mr. GORDON CRAIG.

Lucy Ashton

. Miss ELLKN TERRY.

Sir Walter Scott's novel. "The Bride of Lammermoor," having
already been dramatised at least four times, as well as having been
used for the libretto of Donizetti's famous opera, a keen interest was
aroused in the theatrical world as to the treatment Mr. Herman
Merivale would bestow upon the subject. Much was expected, for

192 THE THEATRE. [OCT. i, 1890.

the adapter had previously given us some excellent work, and expec-
tation was not disappointed, for the dramatisation has been accom-
plished in a more than satisfactory manner, the original having been
only so far departed from as was necessary in order to fit it for stage
representation, and to produce situations that would prove effective.
Mr. Merivale has retained the poetic spirit of this most tragic novel ;
he has used both blank verse and prose, and has made all his
characters interesting. The play opens with a most picturesque scene
of " The Chapel Bounds ; " on the left, the porch of the semi-ruined
chapel, on the right the steep and rugged pathways leading from
" The Wolf's Crag," the remains of the old building standing forth
prominently, perched on high. Here meet the two old cronies,
Ailsie Gourlay and Annie Winnie, the former answering to the seer,
to •whom even to this day Highlanders, in particular, ascribe such
miraculous powers of foresight ; and here Ailsie utters the portentous
rhyme that tells the fate of Edgar, the last of his race, and also marks
out to Hayston, of BuckJaw, the choice that he will make between
honour and worldly advantage. Presently a procession enters,
bearing the mortal remains of Edgar's father, which are to be buried
within the sacred edifice. Edgar requests to be left for a while to
commune with the dead, and in a soliloquy lets us know the hatred
he bears to Sir William Ashion, and hear his oath of vengeance.
When the retainers return, prepared once more to raise the corpse,
and the priests are in attendance, the officer and soldiers of the
Presbitary appear with a warrant forbidding the sepulture, and almost
immediately Sir William Ashton and his daughter Lucy arrive.
Edgar taxes Sir William with the wrongs he has done him, and for
which he is about to take summary revenge, when his eye falls upon
the beautiful girl as she rushes between the combatants. Edgar
sheaths his sword, his friends and clan hold the soldiers at bay for
the funeral to proceed, and with the words full of meaning the first
act ends— with Edgar's utterance of the motto of his race, "I bide my
time." The second act opens in the library of Ravenswood, a fine
old wainscotted apartment with stained glass windows, now inhabited
by the Ashtons. Lucy has heard so much good of Edgar that she is
evidently interested in him, and with a woman's sweet pity success-
fully pleads with her father that he will not send off some despatches
to the government which will bring trouble on the young man. Her
brother Henry calls her forth to witness his prowess with a crossbow,
and then Edgar comes to force a duel on Sir William ; the sight of
Lucy's portrait brings him to a softer mood, and he again stays his hand.
A shriek is heard without, Lucy is in imminent danger from a wild
bull, Edgar seizes a gun that is hanging against the wall (most oppor-
tunely loaded, by the way) and firing through the window, saves
Lucy's life. It must be confessed that this incident fell fiat and
tame ; there is but little chivalry in a man aiming in safety at even an
infuriated animal. In the next scene, " Tod's Den," Bucklaw and
the blustering Craigengelt are awaiting Edgar, who is to sail with
them to join the Pretender. He is known to have gone with the in-
tention of challenging his enemy, and when he enters and refuses to
give his reasons for having changed his mind, Bucklaw taxes him
with cowardice, they draw upon each other, Bucklaw is disarmed,
and exits, breathing bitter words of hatred against Edgar. The third
scene is a dilapidated chamber in " The Wolfs Crag," an exquisite
piece of painting with high pitched arches and crumbling ornamenta-
tion. Lucy, however, constantly occupies Edgar's thoughts, his heart

OCT. i, 1890.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 193

is softened towards her and hers, and when she and her father seek
refuge in his dwelling from a storm, she gradually wins him from
his vengeful mood to one of forgiveness, and he promises that next
day he will become their guest. In the third act, his intercourse
with Lucy has developed into mutual affection ; at " The Mermaiden's
Well," a lovely woodland, they plight their troth in a charming love
scene, most charmingly and naturally rendered. But here again the
legend of the well points to the unhappy ending of their wooing. Sir
William is a consenting party to their future union, but the imperious
Lady Ashton utterly forbids it. Won over by Bucklaw, who wishes
to marry Lucy himself, and at the same time avenge himself on his
rival, Lady Ashton declares Lucy to be intended to be Bucklaw's
bride. The Marquis of Athole has obtained for Edgar an important
appointment abroad, and promises to interest himself in recovering
possession of Ravenswood for him ; and so with a very strong situa-
tion, in which Lucy vows to be true to Edgar during his one year's
absence, the curtain again descends. The last act is the most power-
ful. It again opens in Lucy Ashton's home. She is beset on all sides
to sign the deed of betrothal to Bucklaw ; her mother urges it as her
duty. Though still constant to Edgar, she cannot understand his
silence ; no line has she had from him, and her letters have remained
unanswered. This is easily accounted for ; the tender missives from
both sides have been suppressed by Lady Ashton. Lucy's weak
nature yields to the imperious one of her mother, and she consents to
accede to her wishes, but in doing so you can see that she is signing
her own death warrant. The yearning look in her eyes for escape,
her half -dazed expression, her deadly pallor, too, plainly show the
agony she suffers. At length she musters courage, and with
a burst of almost maniacal laughter, she puts pen to paper and
decides her future. The ink is not yet dry when Edgar's voice
is heard without. He has risen from a bed of sickness, and has
travelled night and day to answer in person the last and only letter
from her which has reached him. Haggard, worn and weary
he at once learns his fate. In an interview with Lucy he
upbraids her with her faithlessness. She is too broken to reply or
plead much excuse. He demands from her her half of the ring
which they had broken in gage of their betrothal. Lady Ashton
takes it from her swooning daughter's neck. Edgar grinds it into
the ashes with his heel, he mourns his lost love, and after arranging
for a deadly meeting with Bucklaw the next day, rushes forth.
Lucy recovers from her faint, calls widely for Edgar, and drops dead,
a fatal ending of her young life which does not seem improbable to
the audience from one or two apt references as to her heart which
Lucy has previously made. On the sands of the " sea-coast " Edgar
and Bucklaw meet and fight, and Bucklaw is killed, but as he dies
he reveals to Edgar the treachery that has been practised upon him,
and tells him of Lucy's death. Caleb Balderstone and Edgar's old
and faithful servant and Aislie Gourlay have come to meet Edgar,
and to once more impress on him their warning about the quick-
sands. Edgar, mad with grief, mounts his horse to ride back to
Ravenswood, and look once more on his lost love. Caleb watches
his progress as he rides furiously to meet his doom and fulfil the
prophecy. The distracted old man vividly and most powerfully
describes his progress, how nobly his master's horse struggles to free
himself from the engulphing quicksands, and at last with a heart-
rending cry proclaims how man and steed have disappeared beneath

194 THE THEATRE. [OCT. i, IBM.

the waters. In the last scene, " The Kelpied Flow," not a word is
spoken. You see but a sandy border to a wild waste of water, on
which the sun shines with a lurid glow, and poor heart-broken Caleb
gazing at one small dark patch that marks the spot beneath which
his ill-fated master lies. It was wondrously touching, and effective
far beyond any attempt that might have been made to actually
represent the catastrophe. Although Edgar and Lucy are not by any
means the strongest parts in which Mr. Irving and Miss Terry have
been seen, they will certainly be classed with their best impersona-
tions— the one from its tragic and gloomy intensity, changed for a
time to bright and joyous happiness, and the other from its girlish
charm and pathetic grief. Everyone remarked on the surprising
youthfulness in their appearance. Mr. Terriss acted with remark-
able dash and fire as the dissolute handsome Bucklaw. Mr. Mackin-
tosh richly deserved the special marks of approbation bestowed on
his acting of Caleb Balderstone ; it certainly was some of the finest
that had been witnessed ; and Miss Marriott was deeply impressive
as the fateful Ailsie Gourlay. Mr. Wenman was quaint and
amusing as the cowardly swashbuckler, Craigengelt ; and Mr. Alfred
Bishop showed considerable subtlety in his reading of Sir William
Ashton's character. Mr. Macklin, strange to say of him, did not
quite impart the necessary dignity to the powerful Marquis of
Athole. The youthful Harry Ashton was neatly played by Mr.
Gordon Craig, but not so marvellously well as to entitle him to
appear with the principals in the scene when they were called for.
Miss Le Thiere, one of our best representatives of stern unbending
women of rank, was excellent as Lady Ashton. It is impossible to
speak too highly of the mounting of the piece. The scenery for the
most part by Hawes Craven, was some of the best that has been seen
even at the Lyceum. The costumes, designed by Mr. Seymour
Lucas, A.R.A., and Mrs. Comyns Carr, were in the most perfect taste,
Miss Terry's dresses and Mr. Terriss's wedding suit deserving special
mention. The overture, preludes, and incidental music, composed
expressly by Dr. A. C. Mackenzie, were most appropriate, and the
funeral chant and the bridal song, both melodious, were artistically
sung. In fact, nothing was wanting to make " Ravenswood " a
success. Admitted that it is a sombre play, yet it keeps the interest
enthralled. It is only in the first two scenes of the second act
that it appeared to require a little more strength. Mr. Irving has
commenced his thirteenth season well, and was able truly to say
at the close of the performance that he would convey to Mr.
Herman Merivale the cheering news of the success of his play.

CECIL HOWARD.

OCT. i, 1890.] OUR MUSICAL-BOX. 195

©ur

Musical Silhouettes.

No. 6.— THE AL FRESCO MINSTREL.

OMETIMES he blacks his face, sometimes he does not.
Sometimes he is a comic-opera tenor down on his luck,
and at others a child of Christy, who has never come to
any front but that facing the sea ! Sometimes he is alone,
at others, the reverse, being addicted to choral renderings
°f popular ballads and .serio-comic songs, accompanied
principally on the banjo. Yet again, sometimes he is
passably good, and at others most insufferably bad — the former when
he does what he can, the latter when he attempts that which he
cannot, a distinction which may be applied to many other walks in
life besides that of the alfresco minstrel. The tenor down on his
luck can generally be recognised. He looks somewhat abashed, as if
he were a trifle ashamed of earning an honest penny, and he sings
with a nil admirari air that seems like conceit, but isn't. At the
same time he is not so much to be pitied as others. He is smiled
upon by the fair sex, envied by their swains, and is, at one and the
same time a theme of their admiration and romance.

Yet he is to be pitied, because he does not like an al fresco life, be
he ever so Bohemian. He pines in his heart for the nightly part, and
the tenor love-song, the footlights and the weekly treasury, the con-
stant charm of changing towns, and the praise in the local press !

He consorts but little with the other members of the tiny alfresco
company, the humorous man who sings comic songs and accompanies
everyone, and the gentleman who plays upon the mandolin. The
comic man has a very jolly round face, and most probably played in
the same " crowd " as the tenor. His countenance wears a smile,
even when it rains hard and no business is to be done. Nothing
dampens his spirits, not even a sea-fog.

One cannot but pity him a little, the tenor, and hope that the
luck will change. He sings well, and there are so many on the
stage who cannot ! But it is all such a matter of chance, that one is
apt to fancy at times that it is Fortune who should be blind, not
Justice.

There is one sort of al fresco minstrel who sits at the seat of cus-
tom, and looks on. His wife plays the piano, and his children in
theatrical garb sing, in very high voices, very badly, with gasps that

196 THE THEATRE. [OCT. l, 1890.

make one shudder, and shrieks that make one wince. It delights
the people, though ; so it pays.

The al fresco minstrel who is black, affects a costume that, to say
the least of it, is loud. What he does in the winter time is a deep
and terrible mystery. The summer is his season, and the seaside his
happy hunting ground. Nothing more appropriately emblematic of
Melancholy could be found than a Christy Minstrel by the sea on a
wet day, especially if he has got caught in a sharp shower. His
lugubrious countenance obtains him as much pecuniary kudos as his
art. But, under any circumstances, a black minstrel, when alone,
looks as though he had come out with his troupe and had somehow
lost them.

Although al fresco entertaining must bp a paying game, to use a
colloquial expression, it is astonishing how few voices are met with.
Weak tenors and strident baritones, soul-piercing sopranos and
nondescript coin-persuaders of all kinds there are in shoals. Not one
in a hundred has ever been trained to sing ; not one in a score knows
how to phrase ; not one in a dozen can speak the Queen's English
-without murdering it.

It seems to me it is a profession much neglected. It requires very
little capiral, and asks no credit ; and there are always opportunities
to be found. Perhaps our English climate is to blame for the neglect ;
truly, it is as uncertain as a tenor's throat, and as variable as a melody
on the bagpipes. And the life has its drawbacks ; it is Bohemian in
its freedom from the trammels and fetters of Society, yet is it uncer-
tain in its pecuniary results. An audience that can get its entertain-
ment first, and is expected to pay afterwards, is not prone to be
generous. It is as likely as not to get up and walk away with an air
-of dignity strange to it before, and an expression on its face that is a
mean subterfuge, a visible pretence of not having heard or listened
-to anything. Now, this is unfair ; because no one buying a dozen of
wine, drinks it, calls it poison, and therefore expects to be presented
with it, free and welcome.

No. The lot of the alfresco minstrel is not a happy one. He may
smile as he please, but he cannot deceive. And there, perchance, is
a moral, which he who runs may read ; that there be those who play
parts otherwhere than on the platform and the stage. Pity is a lovely
thing, and a cheap gift ; but it is much sweeter when Pence go with
it. You, who give your guinea for your stall to hear a wealthy singer
carol, remember this, when, cap in hand, expectancy writ large in
his face, and, maybe, hunger in his heart, the al fresco minstrel
comes to you, petitioning your Pity — and your Pence.

SEMIBRKVK.

Music is still a dead letter, but there are rumours innumerable floating in the
late summer air. The prospectus, just issued, for the coming season of the
Crystal Palace Concerts, shows that out of seventeen promised novelties, seven
are by home composers. This is as it should be. Whether all the seventeen
promises will be or can be kept, time alone will show.

OCT.I, 1390.J OUR MUSICAL-BOX. 197

All hopes of the Gilbert and Sullivan disagreement being amicably settled'
appear to have been dispersed by the intervention, on the instance of the
librettist, of the law, so far as between Mr. Carte and himself, Sir Arthur being
made a party in the matter. Musically speaking, it is a regrettable thing,
though it is an open question whether the extraordinary run of luck that has
attended the Savoy Theatre trio would continue indefinitely. Extraordinary
runs of luck have awkward tendencies to bring themselves to a standstill
suddenly. There is to be a Gilbert-cw»i-Cellier opera next year. I have my
own idea as to the probability of its success, but one thing is certain, Mr.
Gilbert, with all his faults, will find the composer of " Dorothy " a considerably
more original and poetic libretto than any he has yet worked upon.

I was very much amused by the posters that announced " Marjorie " at
Brighton Theatre, where Mr. Slaughter's opera commenced its provincial tour
on the 8th. Mr. Horace Sedger's name, and that of Mr. Augustus Harris,
appear in bold type ; but that of ths unfortunate composer is almost invisible.
This, doubtless, is all right fram an advertising point of view, but it doesn't
seem quite fair.

A correspondent writes me : " Some time ago an attempt was made to form,
for Great Britain, a society similar to the French " Societe des Auteurs," which
should retain, for the benefit of those most immediately concerned, the rights
of performance in a composer's works. In spite of the support accorded it at
first, the scheme ultimately fell to the ground. Why, I think I can say. It
was too daring ; it attempted too much, and it made too plain the object of its
formation. I venture to think that, had the Society been inaugurated on lines
less obtrusive and radical, it might have become the nucleus of a Protective and
Defensive Association of Authors, Composers and Publishers, which should
have had for its raison d'etre not only the one object which was avowed by
the prospectus issued, but, primarily, many projects which are equally desirable
and equally in need of united effort that they may be brought about. As it is,
the chance of co-operation is lost. No one denies that the movement had cer-
tain rights for which it asked fair recognition. But it began too near to the top
of the tree. From small beginnings often ensue great endings.'1

To a certain extent the views of my correspondent are my own. There are
plenty of desirable objects that such a society as might have been formed could
take in hand, plenty of questions that by it might be led to a happy and
amicable settlement. I am not without hope I may yet live to see such an
association.

From what I hear of " Captain Therese," it is tune. Well, the public like
tune. It was partly that that made Offenbach a name to conjure with, and
Lecocq a memory of pleasant moments. But as I have not yet heard the opera
with my own ears, it will have to wait till next month.

At the end of her American season, Miss Marie Tempest is going to run a
company of her own.

Miss Agnes Huntington says (and I daresay New York believes it) she is
taking the entire London company thither to play " Paul Jones." Her " entire
London company " is, so far as I can see, one member — Mr. Albert James.
However, America will be just as well pleased.

The children's opera, " The Belles of the Village," is going on tour, under the
management of Mr. Watkin. It ought to succeed, for it was, at the Avenue,
bright, fresh, and well played. The introduction of the old English airs was a
happy idea, happily carried out.

"Marjorie" commenced its provincial tour at Brighton on the 8th, the com-
poser himself being present to give his work a good send-off. In spite of the
laudatory paragraphs everywhere to be seen, I do not think the Marjorie — Miss
Herbert — wonderful. Her words are not audible : and it takes more than

198 THE THEATRE. [OCT. 1, 1890.

three high notes and a stereotyped smile to make even a comic-opera heroine.
Charles Conyers, barring throatiness, and Templer Saxe both excellent ; chorus
also worthy of all praise. Orchestra rather too much in evidence, a failing
which time will cure. It may be bad taste on my part, but I decidedly prefer
Jennie Rogers as Cicely to Phyllis Broughton. She is quite as pretty, and
does not sing any worse ; and she acts much better. The pretty opening
chorus of the third act wants a very delicate treatment ; and why spoil the
minuet by taking it thrice too fast ? Everything is well put on by Messrs.
Horace Sedger and Harris, and well looked after by Mr. Fred Sutcliffe, who has
had experience — some ! Good luck to you, Walter Slaughter.

Worcester Festival, which commenced on the 9th, was more than anticipatedly
a success. The most important new production was Dr. Bridge's " dramatic
oratorio," " The Repentance of Nineveh/' Critical opinions on the work were
somewhat divided. Bristol Musical Festival commences on the 22nd of
October.

CLIFTON BINGHAM.

©ur Hmateurs'

What should we do without our actors ! Oh, yes, I know. Here's a blazing
sun, and flannels have had to be sorted out again, and instinctively our feet
wander towards the Serpentine to look and to long and to dream of the river
that can be no more — till next spring — and still I can say what I have said.
" Abstracts and brief chronicles ! " Nonsense. The man who wrote that knew
nothing of human nature. Shakespeare ! Shakespeare wrote that ? Oh, well,
then, the quotation is wrong. Abstract ; T never knew an actor yet who was
not one of the most concrete beings on the face of this worn out old spheroid.
Brief chronicles, too ! As for that, just try one on the only 'subject he really
has mastered — his own art. What eloquence, what romance, and, oh, what lan-
guage ! You could listen for hours. You have to, generally. It is all so
strange, so new, so unlike the matter-of-fact, dry-as-dust experience of the
humble toiler at the humble pen. (I hope that won't be printed " pie ; " com-
positors have such a keen sense of humour.) Why, not my fairest dreams, after
a ride on Pegasus, and a beatific Jar of Honey from Mount Hybla, can hold the pro-
verbial candle toone day'ssober reality in an actor's life, lellmeof hardships and
struggles, of sordid surroundings, of disillusionising fact&, and I won't believe you.
An actor is a king! — or a beggar — but what of that — he is always picturesque. In
his hand is the key of theonly Gar 'ea of Eden, within whose frowning walls we
are lost to the heat and the dnst of the streets, the din of the strife, and the
need for daily bread. The actor ! I love him, and so do you. He is the only
man among them all who "always would be missed." Tramping up and down,
in Kensington and Clerkenwell, trying to push and fight your way to a front
seat in the show of Vanity Fair, you are nothing and nobody, just an atom of
humanity, unloved and unloving, unknowing and unknown. Your eyes fall
upon an actor and everything is changed. Here is a friend. You are drawn to
him, although you never spoke a dozen words and never met him, and if you
are a wise man, you never will, for his people are not your people, nor are your
ways his ways ; seek not to peer into the unknown. But your loneliness has
vanished. You know this man, or you think you do, which is all you can be
sure of, even about yourself. If he is a hero, you have seen him lose his wife
and children. "What, all my pretty chickens and their dam?" Ay, it is a

OCT. i, 1890.] OUR AMATEURS' PLAY-BOX. 199

hero's fate, the awful price of greatness. You have seen his handsome swarthy
face distorted with deep grief. The agony of his tense heartstrings has in some
magic way reached you. You have read his thoughts, such as he wished you to.
They have been noble. And you have said, " Here is a man, picked out of ten
thousand." And the sight of him, in the temple or the mart or the exchange,
on the mountains or the river or the sea, and even in the underground, cheers
you, and braces you to bear those ills you have, and perhaps reconciles you
to the thought of those you know not of ! Let me see. Whither have I jour-
neyed ? and what went 1 out for to say ? Ah, here's the thread again. That I
cannot do without my actors ; could not though some Colonel North or modern
Melnotte were to present me with "A deep vale, shutinby Alpine hills from the
rude world, near a clear lake margined by fruits of gold and whispering myrtles,
made musical with birds whose songs should syllable A-;rname," with the marble
palace, the eternal summer, and etceteras, thrown in. But even I, with all this
wild hunger for the histrionic race, must own that stuffy stalls and orange-and-
sawdust perfume are trying to the nerves when the air is heavy with an Indian
summer's heat. And I could extend the hand of fellowship to any syndicate
willing to run a company alfresco during the months when umbrellas cease from
troubling and goloshes take a rest. If they are in doubt as to what I mean, let
them run down to Wargrave Hill when Mr. Walters Bond has given up his
slopes and terraces and gardens to a Pastoral Charade. There they will see
something to turn any manager but Mr. Irving or the proud director of our
National Theatre green with envy. On every tree a hundred twinkling fairy
bulbs, like glow-worms shedding lustre on a leaf or two and shining in the
darkness like a mass of gems. A stretch of turf belted with trees and silvered
by a shaft of pearl-coloured light. And acting on this ideal outdoor stage, a
company intelligent enough and inventive enough to hold their own against
surroundings as fair as these. Charades are like songs and singers, " out of
date," but put through the pastoral process and developed to embrace acts from
" The Tempest " and some of Planche's fanciful pieces, they are not to be despised.
i( Witchcraft " at Wargrave was at any rate pretty and novel, and a happy change
from the ceaseless round of amateur farce and amateur drama, of which the con-
spicuous feature is always the memory evoked thereby of precisely the same
thing infinitely better done by " somebody we saw when we were in London
last year, you know, at the Strand, or the Lyceum, or Savoy, or one of those
theatres near Exeter Hall." Emphatically there is a vein to be worked in
pastoral charades.

Natural scenery and a flood of limelight and costly dresses are not of course
everything. Besides these, are wanted a good eye for a choice of pays and a
good head for making the most of them when got. Lady Fortunle and Sir
Chance Nought went hand in hand at Wargrave, and the figure they cut was
uncommonly pleasing. Scenes from " A Romantic Idea " and " The Discreet
Princess," the latter " adapted >: in a reverential spirit, formed a fresh and
amusing contrast for the more familiar " Tempest." Several of the actors had
distinct aptitude, and in one or two instances the word " talent" would be not
inapplicable. Miss Olga Morell Mackenzie sang sweetly and with rare com-
mand of simple dramatic expression, and gave as unaffected and girlish a read-
ing of Miranda as any budding Reichemberg might have done. Mr. Bowles
looked an imposing conjuror as Prospero, and would have filled the hearts of
certain critics with thankfulness could they have listened to his sonorous
delivery of the magician's noble lines. Miss Mallett flitted gracefully about
the stage as Ariel, more like a fairy in the weird half-lights and shadows than
all the tricks of mechanical aerial dives and soarings of the fin de siecle elfin
could have made her. Mr. C. E. Hannen was a handsome and princely
Ferdinand, and played with a firmness and a taste for elaboration quite un-
accountable in an amateur. The same actors took part in the selections from
Planche", with the addition of Mr. B. Hannen, whose sketch of Hans was a
capital piece of character acting, and Mrs. Theo McKenna, a prominent figure
and one of well-deserved distinction in Hans's dream. Miss Morell Mackenzie
too, did yeoman's service, filling the role of a Letty Lind or a Sylvia Grey in the
company. Her dance was bewitching, and as an individual effort proved the
most popular, as might have been expected. The English are said to have no
gaiety. To" take their pleasures sadly. To be given over body and soul to

200 . THE THEATRE. [Ocx. i, 1890.

raking in sovereigns and minding the shop. And so on, "up to the infinite."
But really when one considers how our entire English population will rally
round a military band and march for miles to its inspiring strains, or a street-
ful will foot it to the soulless strumming of a piano-organ, and how a dance (or
a fight !) on the stage will carry any play, one feels there must be fun about us
somewhere. Fun there was to wind up the pastoral charade with, and fun ot
English make, although the author's name was Planche. For King Gander,
Mother Goose, Baron Wand-in-Hand, and the fair Princesses Idtefonza,
Babillards, and the rest, were played with a spirit worthy of Terry, Brough,
and Royce, and it was not for want of trying that the actors were not as
good.

Lady George Gordon Lennox got together a capital company for her
theatricals at East Peckham, and the audience would have encored everything
if a strong hand had not been laid on their enthusiasm. " Poor Pillicoddy "
has been done to a turn, and yet it is always amusing when a true comedian
comes along to play the tortured husbind. I have more than once travelled a
good way to see Mr. Eustace Ponsonby — Pytnias to the Damon of Mr. Charles
Colnaghi, and Coquelin cadet of Belgravian routs and fetes and crushes, to the
ami- of his still cleverer friend — and, unlike the hermit who was lured from his
cave, firm in his faith that famishing lions would leave him unchewed, I have
not been disappointed. He is a comedian by temperament and by instinct.
His style is broad, his method robust, and his train of thought always
genuinely humourous. Well supported by Mr. C. P. Little, another actor with
a cheery sense of humour, and an ample store of comic ideas, Mr. Ponsonby
made the old mummy live again. Its swathings of tradition, goodness knows
how many years thick, were discarded, the galvanic battery of high spirits and
up-to-date invention applied, and in a second the corpse was alive and kicking.
Miss Milner, Miss Stapleton, and Miss Gwendolen Cook all helped to keep it on
the move, and a merrier hour could not have been spent. Miss IVIilner gave
some excellent recitations to prove thai her talents were not bounded by Mrs.
Pillicoddy, Mr. Sims' waif and stray piece called " Billy's Kose " being charged
with real and infectious pathos, and Mr. Ponsonby and Mr. Little, not content
with their hard work in the farce, also shared in this part of the evening's pro-
gramme, indulging in a " musical duologue " that at once suggested their
appearance in " Blind Beggars.'' Verb. sap.

Since we first heard with a shudder of " Mr. Toole in three pieces," pro-
grammes of tit-bits have slowly but surely been coming into general use. It is
no longer considered infra diy. for actors of the highest standing to appear in a
selection of what are contemptuously termed " curtain raisers." Amateurs are
rarely distinguished for enterprise, but their worst enemies cannot accuse them
of any backwardness in adopting good ideas originated elsewhere. Their
annexation of the " triple bill " notion was therefore to be expected ; and a very
good example of the virtues of that institution was in evidence at Billing Hall
on the 30th August. "Breaking the Ice," "A Husband in Clover," and the
evergreen " Cox and Box," kept everyone amused for the best part of two hours,
and the entire company numbered six ! Nobody seemed to regret that there
was no three-act comedy, and nobody seemed puzzled at the variety of plots to
be mastered, and the variety of personages played by each actor. Now if the
intelligence of a cultured audience will hold out against such a strain as this, the
woes of amateurs will be ended. Their chief lament is that they never can get
their companies to rehearsal. Anything, even a vestry election, is allowed to
stand in the way of the stage manager's fixtures, and I have heard it said of the
first London clubs that a " full rehearsal " is a synonym for the actual produc-
tion ! Billing Hall may therefore have a page in the Amateurs' Genest, if
that classic ever gets beyond its embryonic stage. Lady Winifride Cary-Elwes
played prettily and with a clever comedy manner in the second piece ; Miss
Cary-Elwes and Mr. Townshend Ward starting the ball merrily with the smart
little trifle first named. But the best wine had been kept till the last, in
defiance of old-world injunction, and Mr. Burnand's setting of the curious
antique easily took the honours ; Mr. Gervase, Mr. Dudley, and Capt. Windsor
Cary-Elwes rattling through the farce like a three-headed Wyndham.

OCT. i, 1890.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 201

Faircrouch under the ret) tine of Lieut. Colonel Dashwood and the Hon. Philip
Petre might be mistaken for a fashionable theatre in the heart of London. No
laxity, no confusion. A seat for everyone and everyone in his seat. And
across the footlights the orderliness of a barrack and the discipline of the
household brigade. If their programme were as novel as their methods, or as
perfect, there would be nothing to do but to make a string of names and
bracket them together, with •' Immaculate " written beyond. But in every
Eden there is a serpent. At least so I have been told by a friend, who had the
information direct from a daughter of Eve ; so I cannot doubt it. And at
Faircrouch the evil one takes the form of a fatal taste for inversion. Given
a bill of the play consisting of '• Sunset ' and " Poor Pillicoddy," the demon
turns all their energies into the farcical groove and maliciously lures them to
neglect the batter work. A roaring farce — it being rightly considered impolite
to scream in districts west of Whitechapel — will always make its way. Like
the sea there is always a movement about it. You have only to abandon your-
self to that and you will become as welcome an object of mirth as though it
was the sea itself you were embarked on. But a dainty little play like
" Sunset " has to be built up by the actors, with thought and fancy, and with-
out these it becomes nothing more than a tenderly written prose poem. Mr.
Jerome's humour can make its way in the face of the dullest acting : but
pathos has always to be acted down. The audience will help the manufacture
of the one. They will only look on and critically regard the progress of the
other. Mrs. Dashwood and Miss Mary Bretherton were a pretty pair of
heroines and acted in both plays with sincerity and point. Mr. Basil Ready
was a real country bumpkin as Young Stodd, and Mr. . Maberly and Miss
Symonds gave character to the old people. The farce was admirably acted
throughout, and the stage management of this was notably good. Faircrouch
has only to scotc/h that snake and fling it over the garden wall, and there will
be no Amateur Eden to compare with it.

©ur

"Whatever may be the broad merits of the controversy once again raised
between managers and critics, it is pretty clear that Mr. Charles Wyndham
has been far from happy either in the time or the manner of reviving it. The
storm provoked by his refusal to submit the performance of " Papa's Honey-
moon " to critical judgment in the usual way may be said to have subsided
though it is now abundantly obvious that it has not been forgotten. With
regard to that occasion, it never seems to have been fully understood that the
performance was for one occasion only, and that a matinee, and, therefore, that
the general issue between critic and manager was not directly raised, ;Or, if so,
not in a way favourable to the demonstration of the critic's views. At all
events, Mr. Wyndham might very well have allowed the matter to rest. Other
productions have appeared at his theatre, and the press have been invited and
have responded in the usual way, so that we might fairly have supposed that
the quarrels of lovers had brought about the traditional renewing of love, and
that the high combating powers had kissed and made it up. But, stirred to
wrath by some biting remarks in the New York Spirit of the limes, Mr. Wynd-
ham, diabolo suadente, must needs deliver his soul by means of a letter to the

202 THE THEATRE. [OCT. 1, 1890.

editor of that journal, and it is with this document that Mr. Clement Scott
deals in his trenchant letter to the Era.

It is no part of our duty to do more than express regret that Mr. Wyndham
should have so far forgotten what was due both to himself and to Mr. Scott as to
indulge in a puerile pun on the latter gentleman's Christian name. A much more
serious thing is his imputation of motive in ascribing an hysterical attitude on
the part of a certain critic. It would be the merest affectation to feign
ignorance of the identity of the critic referred to, or that the whole letter is
aimed directly at Mr. Scott. Mr. Wyndham is the last man in the world who
should raise the scarified dramatist's parrot cry about " motive." No man owes
more of his good fortune to the press than does Mr. Wyndham, and until he
left off trying to please the public because he thought he was big enough and
could afford to cater for himself alone, no one was more ready, by constant
courtesy, to acknowledge it. But a change has come over all that. Not con-
tent with holding unique rank as an exponent of the lightest of modern light
comedy, he must seek to extend his range by taking the most astounding
liberties with old English comedy, and treating it as though it were Bronson
Howard or Burnand. Up to that time the press were as welcome as the day, as
well they might be, since his histrionic abilities would have been of little worth
but for the prolonged and continuous chorus of praise that went throughout the
country, until it was considered scarcely the right thing to visit town without
" seeing Wyndham." Directly, however, his irreverent vagaries receive a
mild but well-deserved castigation at the hands of the critical press — and
punishment was surely never administered more judiciously or tenderly — than
he gives himself all the petulant airs of a spoilt child robbed of some portion
of its expected admiration, writes a letter that enables his judges to shut him
up like a concertina, in half-a-dozen quiet and caustic lines, and then takes the
ill-advised step of practically excluding critics from his next production by
granting them admission only on the unworthy and impossible condition that
they should write nothing about the play or the performance. Where is the
hysteria now? In the critics who gravely and impassively followed the even
course of their duty to the public ; or in the manager who will not acknow-
ledge the obvious mistake in judgment he has made, but " rounds " on those
who have told him of it with ill-concealed temper, screams about " motive,"
and finally says he won't play any more ? His former toutbreak might have
been forgiven him, or even the latter, but for his declaration that he means to
repeat the experiment at no distant date.

Without going as far as Mr. Scott, and bidding the manager wait upon his
patrons hat in hand, it is perfectly obvious that managers get far greater
benefit from the press than the press from the managers. The advertisement
received by a newspaper from a criticism, even from an unfavourable one.
which is sometimes the best advertisement of all, far outweighs the value of the
half guinea seat which some managers regard as an overwhelming favour. It
is not to be supposed for a moment that any reputable paper would object to
paying for its critic's stall. That is not the question, or at least, it is only the
most insignificant part of it. The prudent manager knows full well that the
important fact of all is, not the price of the seat, but its convenience for the
purpose of seeing and hearing what goes on upon the stage so as to be able to
form the clearest possible impression. Hitherto the courtesy and goodwill
existing in all but a few isolated, but notorious cases, between managers and
the press have made it a pleasant thing to submit to the simulacrum of a favour
involved in the acceptance of a commodious stall. Suppose for a moment, that
the condition of affairs were changed, and that the critics paid for their seats
and took their chance with the ordinary public. Such a state of things would
preclude the existence of the present friendly relations, and it cinnot, there-
fore, be assumed that the seats would be reserved by the management as ;i
matter of course, or by any mutually arranged system. Just imagine what a
scramble there would be. In some theatres where crowded audiences are not
the rule, it might not matter so much. But, take the Lyceum, Drury Lane, or
the Haymarket ; though, that of course, involves the incredible supposition
that Mr. Irving, Mr. Augustus Harris, or Mr. Beerbohm Tree had lost his
senses for the time being. What a hurry and a scramble there would be and

OCT. 1, 1890.1 OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 203

what endless difficulties would arise ! The person who would suffer most
would be the manager, because the system by which the success of his efforts
is recorded for the benefit of the public and therefore of himself, is out of
order and works imperfectly.

As to the right of an editor to determine what is news ready for the public,
that is unquestionable. So also, if he is foolish enough to insist upon it, is
that of the manager to refuse or withhold free seats and invitations to a first
or any other representation however important. But, when he offers seats to
the representatives of the press on condition that they shall omit to do their
obvious duty, he is guilty of a simple impertinence. Of course, that is,
assuming they ask for seats in their professional capacity. There can be no
harm in inviting them as private friends, and intimating courteously that they
are not expected to make use of the occasion for professional purposes.

After all, let us hope that Mr. Wyndham's little fit of spleen will soon pass
over, and that in a calmer and more reasonable mood, he may reconsider and
forget his determination to quarrel with his bread and butter in the way he
threatens. He is too old a favourite, he has afforded us all too many delightful
hours to allow us to dwell very harshly on these ebullitions of temper. Perhaps
the best way is to treat him off the stage as we have treated him throughout
the great part of his career — refuse to take him seriously. We like to think of
his mercurial gaiety, his bright irresponsible frivolity that refuses to be bound
by the shackles of sober-sided conventionality. Why complain of his behaving
like a spoilt child ? He ii one — the critics spoiled him first and the public
followed suit. The first corrupters are reaping the reward of their indulgence.
Possibly if anyone could be found to spoil him further, the public might suffer
too. Perhaps they will — indeed, it is not by any means certain that they have
not already done so. At any rate, his truest friends are those who tell him of
his mistakes, and the best amends he can make is to acknowledge it, and so
take one step towards the old pleasant and cordial relationship.

In any case, every credit must be given to Mr. Scott for his spirited and
eloquent defence of the rights of journalists. Not his ability alone, but the
weight of his authority enable him to speak with an unequalled right to be
heard with respect on this subject. He has done more than any man living to
raise the tone of the stage, the status of the actor, and the privileges of the
critic. His pen has done unwearied service in the cause for many years, and
although he may now speak nominally only as a journalist, his services to the
public and the profession, to say nothing of his ripe experience and mature
judgment, give his words a larger audience and a deeper significance than any
that could attend the utterance of one who spoke as journalist alone.

Not often does a popular play enjoy the advantage of having a leading char-
acter played within a few weeks of each other by two such actresses as Miss
Olga Brandon and Miss Winifred Emery. That, however, is the pleasant fate
of " Judah," in which the latter lady is now playing Vashti Dethic for some
remaining nights. To put Miss Emery in such a part after the class of work
she has been doing of late would seem rather like risky experiment, had she
not recently proved her extraordinary versatility by playing in such diamet-
rically opposite leading parts as those in " Clarissa" and " Miss Tomboy." It is
not too much to say that it would be impossible to find another actress on the
English stage — unless we except Miss Ellen Terry, to whom Miss Emery was
understudy and upon whom she has largely formed her style — who could have
created those parts, not only so gratefully but even without offence. Her
Vashti, as might be expectad, differs largely from that of Miss Brandon. There
is less of the mystic about her and, in proportion, more of the human. Her affec-
tion for Judah is that of a loving woman, and not the yearning of one scarcely
yet awakened from a trance-like sleep. Miss Brandon's devotion partook of the
mysterious, weird nature of the woman herself. Miss Emery throws off the
mystic when she puts on the passionate creature, not too bright and good for
human nature's daily food. In other words, Miss Brandon does not seem to
touch the earth at all, and possesses a charm of her own in consequence, while

204 THE THEATRE. "OCT. ], 1890.

Miss Emery's intense humanity in the horror and self -scorn with which she realise
(which Miss B randon never does fully) the loathsome nature of her sin, compels
sympathy of an entirely different kind. Both of them are magnificent imper-
sonations, but each gives a different reading of the same character, and it is
impossible to put a finger on one or the other and say, " this is the best." At
all events, Miss Emery, who is among the very brightest of our young actresses,
has given a further proof both of power and versatility.

Intelligence has been received from New York of the death of Mr. Dion
Boucicault in that city, on Thursday, Sept. 18th, in his 70th year. He was
born in Dublin, Dec. 26th, 1820, and his first and most brilliant comedy,
"London Assurance," was produced at Covent Garden in 1841. with a very
brilliant cast. Its success caused him to adopt his own name in future (for his
first work he used the non-de-plumv of Lee Morton). He wrote many plays,
amongst his best being '• Old Heads and Young Hearts " (1844), •' Janet Pride''
(1855), " The Colleen Bawn " (1860), " The Octoroon" (1861), " Dot " (1862).
"Streets of London" (1863), "After Dark" (1868), "The Shaughraun "'
(1875). Other famous plays from his pen were " The Flying Scud :> (1866), and
" Formosa '' (18G9). He first appeared in London as an actor in " The Vampire,''
apiece of his own, at the Princess's in June 1852. His best character was that of
Myles-na-Coppaleen. He married Miss Agnes Robertson, a very charming
actress, and leaves two of his sons, Dion and Aubrey, on the stage. For some
years Mr. Boucicault's health had been failing, and he sank from pneumonia
and weak action of the heart.

Miss May Whitty (the subject of one of our photographs) made her first appear-
ance at the Court Theatre, Liverpool, during the autumn stock season of 1881T
and played minor characters in pieces produced by Captain Bainbridge. In the
spring of 1882 she joined the Comedy Theatre company to appear in the first
pieces, and occasionally in the other plays. Miss Whitty migrated to the Hare
and Kendal company at the St. James's in November, 1883, for minor riles and
for understudy, during which engagement she appeared as Graham in " A Scrap
of Paper," Suzanne in "The Ironmaster" (April 17, 1884), and Mary in "A
Case for Eviction " (Sept. 22, 1885). Feeling that she ^required to gain more
experience in her profession Miss Whitty left the St. James's in January, 1886r
and joined a company touring in the smaller towns, to play leading business in
such characters as Lady Teazle, Lady Gay Spanker, Miss Hardcastle, Lydia
Languish, Anne Chute/ Claire Ffolliott, &c., and in the March following, was
engaged by Mr. Charles Wyndham for a tour of " The Candidate " and '' Naval
Engagements." In August of the same year (1886), Miss Whitty joined
Messrs. Gatti's company to play Dora Vane in " Harbour Lights '' on tour, and
filled the character at the Adelphi during Miss Millward's absence, and also
played Ruth in " In the Ranks." The young actress also appeared as Xance
and Jess in " Hoodman Blind " at Mr. Eliot Galer's Theatre, Leicester, and at
Christmas, 1887, filled the title-rc<7<? in " The Lady of the Lake " in Messrs.
Howard and Wyndham's Theatre, the Lyceum. Edinburgh. An engagement
with Mr. Lart at the Globe Theatre followed, and Miss Whitty next joined Mr.
Richard Mansfield's Company to appear as Alicia in " Prince Karl," and subse-
quently went with it to the Globe, where she also played Miss Neville, Miss
Hardcastle, and Lady Sneerweli. On the production of " Our Flat " by Mr.
Willie Edouin at the Opera Comique (June, 1889), Miss Whitty played Lucy,
but when the play was transferred to the Strand Theatre ( September,
1889), she assumed the leading part of Margery, which she has played re-
markably well up to the present time. Miss Whitty is a bright, clever actress,
possessing considerable charm and versatility of character in her profession.

Mr. Joseph Tapley (whose portrait appears this month) at quite an early age
sang at the festivals and before the City companies. At the commencement of
1880 some friends of his, considering that he possessed a good tenor voice, in-
troduced him to Sir Arthur (then Dr.) Sullivan, who was at that time the

"THE THEATRE," OCTOBER, 1890

Photoyraphcd by Downey, London

MISS MM WMITTY.

1 One who meant well, tried a little, failed much."

"CHRISTMAS SERMON," ROLEKT LOUIS STEVENSON.

EQLINQTON & Co.. PUBLISHLRS,
LONDON.

" THE THEATRE," OCTOBER, 1890.

Photographed by Burraud. London and Liuerpool.

MR. JOSEPH THPLEY.

(.'fait'ii. — "Would you have a love song, or a song of good life?"

,\'tr Tel')'. - -" A love song, a love MHII; !

Sir- Andrew.— " Ay, ay; I care not for good life."

"TWELFTH NIGHT," ALT II, SCENB 111.

EGLINQTON & Co.. PUBLISHERS.
LONDON.

OCT. i, 1890.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 205

Principal of the National Training School for Music. Sir Arthur approved of
the lad's quality of voice, and as Mr. Tapley's friends were not in a position to
pay for his tuition, Sir Arthur very kindly arranged for a scholarship for him,
which the young singer retained till the close of the school two years later.
Whilst there he studied singing under the late J. B. Welch, and obtained a
knowledge of harmony, pianoforte, Italian musical history, etc., under various
masters. In 1884 Mr. Tapley made his lyrical debut as Amiens in "As You
Like It" at the Coombe Wood open-air performances, given under the direction
of Lady Archibald Campbell and the late E. W. Godwin. Mr. Tapley's maiden
efforts were so satisfactory, that he was engaged to fill the same part in Messrs.
Hare and Kendal's revival of the play at St. James's (January 24, 1885), and
subsequently toured with an operetta company, and sang at most of the large
halls in London and the provinces. Mr. Tapley first appeared in comic opera
at the Comedy Theatre to create the part of Francis in Paulton and
Jakobowski's "Mynheer Jan " (Feb. 14th, 1887), but the opera did not prove a
success, so he joined the Avenue Company, and appeared in the revival of
"Madame Favart" (April 18th 1887). as Hector de Boispreau. This even-
tuated in a long engagement, as Mr. Tapley remained at the Avenue till Feb-
ruary, 1890. During this period he created the tenor parts of GaMon de la
Roche Noire in " The Old Guard " (Oct. 26, 1887), Count Maximilien de
Rosen in "Nadgy" (Nov. 7, 1888), Tristram in " Launcelot the Lovely"
(April 22, 1889), I'lorival in " La Prima Donna " (Oct. 16, 1889), and also
appeared as Alphonse in the revival of " La Rrse d'Auvergne " (Dec. 24,
1889). Mr. Tapley tranf erred his valuable services to the Prince of Wales's
Theatre to resume his original part of Wilfrid in "Marjorie" (originally pro-
duced at a matinee there) July 18, 1889. and placed in the evening bill,
Jan. 18, 1890), and is now playing Philip de Bellegarde in " Captain Therese"
(produced Aug. 25, 1890). Mr. Joseph Tapley possesses a sweet and sympathetic
tenor voice, has steadily improved in his style of singing and expression and
in his acting, and has become a great favourite with the public.

Mr. Davenport Adams writes : — " The announcement that Mr. and Mrs.
Kendal would appear for the first time in Merivale and Simpson's ' All for Her '
at the Theatre Royal, Manchester, on Friday, September 5, drew me, as by a
magnet, to Cottonopolis on the day I have named. The occasion promised to be
eminently interesting, and it proved to be so. I found the big theatre crowded
in every part by an audience evidently prepared to be delighted. Manchester
is one of the Kendals' strongholds ; this, too, was Mrs. Kendal's l benefit ' night,
and ; All for Her,' doubtless, had for many local play-goers the attraction of
comparative novelty. It was played in the country by John Clayton in 1876,
with a company which included Miss Annie Baldwin, Miss Lilian Cavalier,
Mr. Arthur Elwood, and Mr. Henry Moxon. In the following year, Clayton
took it out again, with Miss Louise Moodie as the Lady Marsden ; and during
that tour the role of Radford was performed at Glasgow by Mr. Macintosh,
now a member of the Lyceum company. Still more recently ' All for Her '
has been seen in the provinces with Mr. Fred Gould as the Hugh Trevor and
Miss Stembridge in the leading female part.

" The cast of the piece as revived by the Kendals, and as played by them not
only at Manchester, but at Liverpool and Birmingham, previous to taking it to
America for their forthcoming tour, presented Mr. Kendal as Trevor, Mr. J. E,
Dodson as Radr'ord, Mr. Joseph Carne as Lord Edendale, Mr. A. M. Denison as
Colonel Darner, Mr. Seymour Hicks as Crake (the innkeeper), Miss Nellie
Campbell as Mary Rivers, and Mrs. Kendal as Lady Marsden. I was rather
disappointed with the efforts of Mr. Dodson and Mr. Carne, the former of whom
seemed to me to lack subtlety, while the latter wanted more distinction of
bearing. Probably, however, both have since improved. Mr. Denison's Colonel
and Mr. Hicks' innkeeper were excellent, and Miss Campbell's performance, if
a little immature, was very bright and engaging. The chief part in the piece is,
of course, that of Trevor, to whom Mr. Kendal assigned an agreeable manliness,
humour, and pathos, being equally successful in the semi-drunken scenes, the
serious scenes with Lady Marsden, and the closing passages previous to Trevor's
fine act of self-sacrifice. The role is both long and difficult to play, and Mr.
Kendal came out of the ordeal with much effect and very great credit.

206 THE THEATRE. [OCT. l, 1890.

" By comparison, Mrs. Kendal had little to do. Lady Marsden makes only two
brief appearances in act i, and she is not much more prominent in the third.
In the second, however, she more than once ' fills the .stage.' On the first
occasion she has to be bright and winning, on the second earnest and tender, on
the third burningly indignant. In all these phases she was admirable, looking,
the while, charming in her white wig and her gowns ' of the period.' The
costumes, by the way, had all been designed by Mr. Lewis Wingfield, and great
pains had been taken with the general mise-en-scens. The popular verdict was
unanimously favourable, and a new career seems open to the interesting and
effective play, despite its occasional old-fashioned turns of speech and action/'

Apropos of the allusion to Gainsborough's portrait of Garrick, in Part V. of
the " Bath Stage Annals," in which the actor is depicted leaning against a
pedestal surmounted with a bust of Shakespeare, the artist, in a letter to his
friend, described his ideas on painting the bard's features, and, in speaking of
the well-known statuette, says " Shakespeare's bust is a silly smiling thing, and I
have not sense enough to make him more sensible in the picture." Gains-
borough, in this matter, was a perfect judge. What was said of the heroes
before Agamemmon — "they had no poet, and they died" — is applicable to the
features of the Poet himself —

" They had no painter, and they died."

It is undoubtedly true, that a rude likeness may be drawn by a dauber, and
we can rely so far upon the dismal resemblance ; but what can be done with it
in a period where art is required to render pictures endurable ? If we correct
the drawing, we perhaps expunge some absolute peculiarity in the features. If
we allow imagination to infer the Poet's personal character from his mental
power, we are calling upon fancy to regulate fact, and every man will draw a
Shakespeare for himself.

Too late for notice this month, we have " The Struggle for Life," the English
version of La Lutte pour la Vie, by Robert Buchanan and Fred Hornar, at the
Avenue on the 24th September ; and as coming events, " Carmen up to Data,"
at the Gaiety on October 4 ; " The Sixth Commandment," by Robert Buchanan,
at the Shaf tesbury, once more under Miss Wallis's own management, on October
8; and the Lyric will open, under Mr. Horace Sedger's management, with " La
Cigale," on October 9. With the commencement of October, too, Mr. Beerbohm
Tree returns to the Haymarket with his company to play "A Village Priest"
again, and Mrs. John Wood to th3 Court with " The Prime Minister." '• Nerves "
is still the attraction at the Comedy, and " The Solicitor " appears to be in for a
long run at Toole's Theatre. Mr. Edward Terry will re-open his own theatre
almost immediately with Mr. Law's comedy, " Culprits," which has been approved
by provincial audiences ; and Mr. Pinero is also writing a fresh play for Mr.
Terry. The Vaudeville is being improved and enlarged, and when the altera-
tions are completed Mr. Thomas Thorne will return to it and re-open probably
with a revival. The Globe is also to re-open some tims during October, this
time under Mr. George Paget's management, and with an opera, " The Black
Rover," by Mr. Searelle, of the music of which report speaks highly. The
opera is to be lavishly put on the stage. On Monday, September 15, Miss
Cissy Grahame took possession of the Opera Comique as lessee and manageress,
and transferred to it " The Judge," which was so successful at Terry's, and
which has been considerably improved by a re-adjustment of the third act. Mr.
Penley has " developed " his comic business and made it even more laughable
than it was originally. Before opening at her new home, Miss Grahame had the
theatre cleaned and renovated, fresh upholstery introduced, and the place made
generally more pleasing to the eye. Miss Grahame must also be congratulated
on the perfect taste displayed in the mounting of her pieces. " Little Jack
Sheppard," the burlesque written by H. P. Stephens and W. Yardley, was
revived at the Standard on August 18. Miss Fanny Robina was bright and
clever in the title role, and Mr. J. J. Dallas excellent as Blueskin.

The Novelty Theatre re-opened under its old name on August 30, under the
direction of Mrs. J. F. Brian, and with a play by Brian McCullough, entitled,

OCT. i, 1890.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 207

" Light o' Day," of which there is no occasion further to speak, as it was
reminiscent of several melodramas, and could lay claim to little originality or
brilliancy of dialogue. The author acted with some skill and humour as
Bartholomew Brown, and Miss Nelly Nelson was clever as Tiddy Dunn.
" Cheap prices " and complimentary orders entailing the purchase of a 6d. pro-
gramme were the ruling of the management.

In the revival of " The Middleman " at the Shaftesbury on September 6, Mr.
E. W. Gardiner should not be forgotten for his genuine comedy as Jesse Pegg ;
Mrs. Willard was Mary, Miss Bessie Hatton, Nancy, Mr. C. Harbury, Joseph
Chandler, Mr. C. Fulton, Captain Julian Chandler.

For the illustrations to " A Million of Money " we are indebted to the
courtesy of the proprietor of the " Lady's Pictorial."

New plays produced and important revivals in London, from August 9, 1890
to September 20, 1890.

(Revivals are marked thus0).

Aug. 25 " Captain Therese," comic opera in three acts, written by MM.

Alexandre Bissou and.F. C. Burnand, composed by R. Planquette.

Prince of Wales's.
„ 27 " The Deacon," original comedy sketch in two acts, by Henry Arthur

Jones. Matinee. Shaftesbury.
,, 30 " Light o' Day," sensational comedy-drama, by Brian McCullough.

Novelty.
Sept. 1 "A Legend of Vandale," original comedietta, by A. E. Drinkwater

Grand.
„ 6 " A Million o£ Money," military, sporting and spectacular drama, in

five acts, by Henry Pettitt and Augustus Harris. T.R. Drury

Lane.
„ 6° " The Middleman," play in three acts, by Henry Arthur Jones.

Shaftesbury.

,, 11* " Truth," comedy, in three acts, by Bronson Howard. Criterion.
„ 15 " The Village Forge," drama in five acts, by George Conquest and

Tom Craven. Surrey.
„ 15 " Joan of Arc," historical drama, in four acts, by G. W. Innes (first

time in London). Sadler's Wells.

„ 20 " Ravenswood," play in four acts, by Herman Merivale. Lyceum.
In the Provinces, from August 11, 1890, to September 18, 1890.
Aug. 18 " Capital and Labour," drama, in four acts. Victoria Opera House,

Burnley.
,, 25 " Liberty," original sensational melodrama, in a prologue and four

acts, bv C. A. Clarke. Morton's Grand Hall, Bromley.

„ 28 "New York Politics," farcical comedy, by James Aikin (for copy-
right purposes). T.R. Brentford.
„ 29 " Culprits," farcical play, in three acts, by Arthur Law. Prince

of Wales's Theatre, Liverpool.
„ 29 " An Engagement," original duologue, by B. C. Stephenson. T.R.

Newcastle-on-Tyne.
Sep. 1 " Niobe," original farcical comedy, in three acts, by Harry and Edward

A. Paulton. Prince of Wales's, Liverpool.
„ 5 " Time is Money," one act comedietta, by Mrs. Hugh Bell. Royal,

Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
„ 6 "For Batter for Worse," original society melodrama, in four acts, by

Miss M. E. Braddon. (For copyright purposes). West Cliff Saloon

Theatre, Whitby.
„ 8 " The Unionist," one act piece, by E. R. Cleaton. Prince of Wales's,

Liverpool.
„ 12 " His Son-in-Law," farcical sketch, by W. G. Watson and Alfred

Rodman. Herne Bay.

208 THE THEATRE. [OCT. i, 1890

„ 13 " Modern Ireland," Irish drama in five acts, by R. F. Sager. Public

Hall, Bacup.
„ 17 " What Women Will Do," comedy-drama, in a prologue and three

acts, by Jerome K. Jerome. T.R., Birmingham.
„ 18 "It Was A Dreara," one act comedy-drama, by X. L. Prince of

Wales's, Birmingham.

In Paris from August 15, 1890, to September 1C, 1890.

Sep. 1 " Le Pompier de Justine," farcical comedy, in three acts, by MM.

Valabregue and Davril. Folies Dramatiques.
„ 10 " Le Secret de Gilberte," play in five acts, by Theodore Massiac.

Odeon.
„ 16" " Le Due Job," four act comedy by Leon Laya Frangais.

THE THEATRE,

Critics' Gallicisms,

BY G. W. DAXCY.

!*B. E. A. Morton has recently revived an old difficulty by
writing pathetically to the Daily Neil's protesting
against the use of the detestable word " curtain-raiser,"
which has passed into the currency of late, and is now
written, without even the saving grace of inverted
commas, as a translation of the French term lever de
ridcan. Mr. Morton's cry is one appealing to the heart
of every critic who conscientiously does his best to preserve the
;purity of the language he writes. At first sight, it looks like a stand-
ing reproach to English journalists that they should have to fall
back so frequently on French terms to express ideas perfectly
familiar to English minds, but a careful consideration of the compar-
atively small number of such phrases will show that this is not the
•<;ase to any humiliating extent.

Of course, the first excuse is that French is the language of the
stage (Mr. Morton makes use of the plea) just as English is the language
•of sport, especially the turf, and Italian the language of opera and of
nausic generally. That is only partially true, for while English turf
talk is borrowed bodily, slang and all, by the French, and Italian is
••still almost exclusively the language of music and the ballet, French
theatrical terms are far fewer in number and far less universally used
'by us than either English sporting jargon in France or Italian
(musical words in England. In addition to this, we have a large
^vocabulary of words to represent the common objects and mechan-
ism of the stage wherein no foreign element is apparent, save, of
•course, in the derivative sense which affects the whole of the
English tongue. The French words left are principally those which
•do not present any easily discovered or tolerably elegant equivalents in
English, and it may be as well to run through some of them again
with a view of considering how far they are now capable of naturali-
sation in their present form, and whether some of them cannot be
fairly translated so as to retain their full meaning without a too
hideous result.

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI. M

210 THE THEATRE. [Nov. 1, 1890.

I will start with three phrases, indicated by Mr. Morton. Mise-
en-scene, as he truly says, is more than scenery, and e?i£r'«cfcisless.
indefinite than interval, while for ensemble "linguistic jugglery can
devise no synonym." With regard to mise-en-scene, Mr. William
Archer, in an able article on the same subject written some years ago,
raises the difficulty thdt if you represent the Gallicism by an American-
ism and speak of " staging," you are still in the difficulty that you can-
not substitute a cognaty word for metteur-en-scene. " Putting on " is,
perhaps, the nearest possible translation. But neither " staging " nor
" mounting " is quite so comprehensive, and as it is the shortest and
neatest way at present known of expressing the idea, I am afraid we-
must make the best of a bad job and retain it. So with entr'acte-
and ensemble. To Anglicise either of them directly would be a barbar-
ism, and no English equivalent has yet been found for them from the
time Theodore Hook made fun of the latter to the present day.

Then comes succes (Testime. Mr. Archer considers that it should
be simply rendered " success of esteem " ; succes de scandal e, a
phrase not frequently used, though unfortunately the thing is still
existent, being represented by " success of scandal." This not only
sounds to me exceedingly uncouth ; but moreover fails to convey a
sufficiently accurate meaning, even though I am not prepared to ac-
cept Mr. John Coleman's definition, " a success which enables the
artist to air his reputation at the expense of the manager's pocket."
Piece de cir Constance is another absolutely untranslatable phrase.
In three easily intelligible words it conveys a definite idea which, if
done into English, would render it necessary to walk round and
round the mulberry bush, after which we should probably find that
the precise shade of meaning had vanished. I was nearly using
then an abomination, nuance, absolutely unjustifiable, inasmuch as
"shade" represents it — well, to a shade. Opera-bouffe, again, is.
opera-bo it ffe and not comic opera, and there is no English term that will
represent the French article. Claque is also a French commodity
and may well be left to retain its French name. Coup de theatre, on
the other hand, is as well known here as on the other side of the
Channel, but the ordinary means of translation utterly fail us here.
" Stage stroke " has far too ludicrous a resemblance to "stage struck"
to allow of such an alteration. Coup de theatre must, then, stand..
Coulisses, a term which has lately become familiar to English
readers, in a political sense, may pretty generally be rendered
" behind the scenes," but many occasions will arise when such a
phrase must become awkward, if not impossible, and it will be
necessary to use the shorter and neater Gallicism.

Ficelle, I should certainly object to, as translatable into " stage-
trick " or "dodge." Abandon, rcrr>\ and clnn, all three words used
elsewhere than in connection with the theatre, and therefore in no
wise to be considered technical terms, are yet not to be rendered
with a satisfactory amount of exactitude by "dash," "go," or "energy,"
but care should be observed not to use either of these without real
necessity. Repertoire becomes a miserable affectation with a whole-

Nov. i, 1890.] CRITICS &ALEKHSM3. 211

some word like repertory to fall back on ; tragedienne, comedienne,
artiste are surely unnecessary when we can write tragedian,
comedian, and artist. Queue was naturalised amongst us generations
ago as an article of head-gear. In its theatrical meaning, it is
thoroughly well understood and takes the place of no native word.
Why, therefore, should it not stand ? Soubrette also has been so long
with us as to have a claim on our permanent hospitality. Abigail
however, an old-fashioned word, may be considered a fairly efficient
substitute. Another word occurs to me, not French, this time, but
Italian — scenario. A translation of this might be attempted. " Sketch "
or " sketch plan " might cover it, but then some word would have to be
added to give it a theatrical character, and the result becomes
clumsy at once. What English word can we find to take the place
of ingenue ? There is the creature herself upon the stage. She
occupies a well recognised position. Her parts are frequently of the
highest importance and sometimes whole plays are written round
her. What will you call her and her congeners ? Ingenue is an
awkward word both to English ears and English lips, but at present
it seems the best we can do. Then there is that charming creature
the jeune premier. " Juvenile lead " may be. as Mr. Archer objects,
too technical to suit some tastes, but after all jeune premier is every
whit as technical, the only difference being that the inelegance is
draped! in a foreign tongue, the very evil we are trying to avoid.
Premiere again can always be rendered by "first night" or first
representation.

Denouement is another word of doubtful propriety. " Un-
ravelling " and " untying " form excellent synonyms, and the<
writer's meaning can generally be conveyed by some such word as
" end " or " conclusion." " Catastrophe," a word rather diffidently
suggested by Mr. Archer would, I am afraid in the majority of cases
convey a false, though absolutely unwarrantable, impression. Of
role it may be said, that "part" and "character" fill its place to
admiration ; but then we have to deal with the hybrid thing " title-
role." Nom-role is sometimes used, but whether from prejudice or
custom I do not know, " title part " and " name part " grate harshly
on my ear. I will wind up with entrepreneur and impresario^
words for which I must confess I have a preference over "manager''
and " agent," though the foreign terms are generally used rather in
connection with opera than the drama.

But stay ; I must not forget our venerable friends matinee and
soiree, though I fancy that they will both be generally recognised
and adopted on the ground of long and faithful service. " Morning
performance" will, of course, cover matinee, but what will take the
place of soiree ? It is seldom used, too, with regard to theatrical
matters, pertaining rather to music and society. The gravest objec-
tion to it in my eyes is that now, as in the days of Mr. John
Smauker, it is so generally pronounced " swarry " boldly and shame-
lessly by people who ought to know better.

This brings me to the matter of pronunciation. This is and

212 THE THEATRE. |Xov. 1,1390.

always must be, as in the case of foreign words in general use,
largely, if not entirely, a matter of fashionable caprice. The spread
of education will operate, I am inclined to think, against any danger
of savage mutilation in that way, aud, in the long run, the all-
conquering spirit of compromise will rule. Still, although I do not
for a moment advocate that the mere acceptance of a word into
general use should suffice to justify its disguise, possibly a caco-
phonous and unrecognisable one under our own pronunciation, there
are one or two words that will present difficulties to our stubborn
English tongues. Soiree I absolutely despair of ; " swarry " it has
been and is, " swarry " I am convinced it will be to the end of the
chapter. Ingenue, with all words requiring the French nasal intona-
tion, proves awkward to many now, but probably will not for long,
and at the worst its bold anglicisation would not be very dreadful.
But as I have said, fashion and compromise will work their will, and
it is quite impossible to prophesy what the result will be.

After all, the number of foreign terms which have crept into dra-
matic criticism and nestled there is creditably small. Compared
with the systematically alien technology of the sciences and the
learned professions, the foreign phrases which are technical terms in
fact form an absolutely diminutive element in the language of the
drama. I think I have said enough to show that most of them
produce something like a title to permanent retention. At the
same time, there is an irritating and unworthy tendency on
the part of some writers to give way to the temptation besetting
the slovenly and poor of expression to drag in French
phrases obviously capable of easy transmutation into the native
vernacular ; but this, I am happy to notice, is less frequent
than it used to be. With regard to the instances I have given, there
is another thing to be said. Now-a-days a smattering of French is
so common, that the moderate and discreet use of these terms is not
likely to puzzle anyone with the most modest education, and may,
therefore, be free from the detestable affectation which too often
formed the motive for interlarding sentences with intrusive and
offensive Gallicisms. This I say, of course, absolutely without
prejudice to the necessity of keeping our extremely composite
language as free from corruption and foreign invasion as possible,
though it may be usefully remembered in this connection that the
pedantry of purity may become not less obnoxious than polyglot
priggishness, and that the earnest writer, like Moliere, will take his
goods where he finds them, and justify his theft by the use he makes
of it. His duty is to express his thought, and if his own language
will not provide him with an apt instrument, let him go to another
for it, and so enrich his own ; but let him be sure of the povert}r of
is native tongue before disgracing it bj~ going a-begging for it.

One reform I would earnestly advocate, in common, I think, with
most men possessing a practical knowledge of the subject. It is the
abolition of the absurd law which puts all foreign words into italics.
In the old days when sporting writers found it necessary to

Nov. i, 1890.] POOR YORICK! 213

emphasise their puns in the same way, there may have been a reason
for it. There is none to-day. If anyone thinks it an unimportant
matter with regard to the appearance of p.'inted matter, let him take
a page of this article and place it side by side with any other page in
the migazine and mark tb.3 difference — how broken and irregular
is tha one and how smooth and comply the other. Quotation marks,
too, if not quite so unsightly, are equally unnecessary to indicate
imported words. A consideration of some practical weight is the
deeply rooted hatred in which italics are held by compositors on
account of the awkwardness of setting them, and also it must be
added, for your good compositor is also a bit of an artist, because of
their untidy appearance when printed.

Indeed, I am sometimes inclined to believe that the conspicuous
nature of their foreign garb sometimes leads to an exaggerated idea
of the numerical strength of these friendly aliens. Those which
are well known to us have done their work well on the whole.
There is little danger that their really insignificant numbers will be
increased. Admit them as they stand to our philological family
circle and arrange them in native fashion. Protect them from
abuse, and I do not fear that our language will be seriously injured
thereby.

Poor Yorick !

By ARTHUR A. WOOD.

jF the many episodes that Shakespeare introduced in his
plays, to elucidate the nicer shades of character in his
personages, there is not one, perhaps, more subtle and
pregnant than the incident of the jester's skull in the
churchyard scene in Hamlet. That strong dramatic in-
stinct of contrast, which no writer has in so marked a
degree, that brings together, quite naturally and in due sequence,
the real and the assumed madness of Lear and Edgar, or the
passionate daring of Cassias and the steady bravery of Brutus, is
never more forcibly indicated than in the colloquy between the
speculative and visionary Prince of Denmark, and the matter-of-fact

•214 THE THEATRE. [Nov. 1, 1890.

and unsentimental Gravedigger, when the solemn mystery of death
is illustrated and emphasised by the mouldering skull of the dead
buffoon. Perhaps to most observant readers and spectators one or
two pertinent questions in connection with this scene have presented
themselves, as, How did the poor jester die, that at the end of
twenty years, the period named by the Gravedigger, his skull was
found with only a few bonss, and which bones, as there were two
skulls unearthed, might have belonged to the other ? And by what
marks could the Gravedigger know the difference between these two
skulls ? And was it the ordinary end of the jester's miserable
vocation, for his body after death, or at least his bones, to be tumbled
along with others equally disregarded into a hole, without any out-
ward signs to mark their last resting-place, and liable to be disturbed
by the first uncouth fellow, who, having " no soul for his business,"
•selected a spot, the most convenient to himself, for the interment of
a more important personage. It may be " considering too closely "
to go into such matters, but it would be interesting to know how
these poor mummers were treated when age or infirmity overtook
them, and they could no longer set the table in a roar. There are
instances on record of Royalty having left those, whose brilliancy
illumined the grossness of their patrons' lives, to suffer in poverty
and die in obscurity ; or of priestly intolerance, that denied the
simple dignity of Christian burial to the satirist, whose genius it was
powerless to fetter or destroy. Perhaps the jester was treated in a
somewhat similar way, and poor Yorick was thrown un coffined into
his rude grave, as other lumber or rubbish is stowed away out of
sight. It is not very difficult to believe such to have been the case,
when bearing in mind that in so little regard were these jesters held
while living, that any excess of buffoonery, or too great a freedom
of speech, was occasionally corrected by a whipping. With the
experience of such a life, and the probability of such an end to it,
we may comprehend the wit and wisdom of Touchstone, a man of
the world and a philosopher, when he elected to become the husband
of a simple country wench, and to settle down into respectable
dulness in the vicinity of Arden.

These jesters or " clowns " as they are sometimes, and not always
properly, called, seem to have been of two kinds ; the intentionally
witty fellow and humourist, who could sing a good song, and divert
by his mimicry — the Jester, in point of fact— and the half-witted
Droll, whose amusing blunders and whimsical nonsense were
encouraged by his patron, or restrained within due bounds by a
stroke of the rod or a cuff on the ear. This was, more properly
speaking, the Fool. Shakespeare has given us this character in hie
" King Lear." He utters bitter things, but they seem to be blurted out
at random, and as if he himself were not quite conscious of their
ull meaning, recalling the story, which I daresay most of us remember,
of a minister of the Kirk, who having on one occasion preached all
his congregation to sleep, excepting an imbecile, whom he recog-
nised as a resident of the place, indignantly exclaimed, " An' ye're

Nov. l, 1890.J POOE YORICK ! 215

a' asleep but daft Jamie the idiot ! " when the other replied, " Eeh
meenister ! an' gin daft Jamie had no been an idiot he'd ha' been
asleep tae ! "

Other of our older dramatists have introduced the professional
jester and the fool into their plays ; but Shakespeare appears to be
the only one who has given much prominence to the character.
In all probability he had a personal acquaintance with some of them,
and may have taken a hint from what he heard or saw. Tarleton,
who was famous in his day, was the court jester o£ Elizabeth ; and of
Will Sorners, her royal father's favourite, Shakespeare might have
heard much, though he might never have sesn him. Very likely
much of their drollery was traditional rather thau original. Certain
antics or witticisms which Will Somerj found irresistible, would be
considered indispensable by his successors ; and, perhaps, as a rule,
it is safer f 01 recognised buffoons to rely on the " gags " and the
humours of their forefathers, than to venture on the quicksands of
professional originality.

We are apt to consider the jester as one of the members of a royal
or noble household, as the huntsman or falconer would be, and
probably further back in our history such would be the case, as
suggested by the " Wamba " in Sir Walter Scott's " Ivanhoe ; " but
it is also probable when the drama in England began to take a
definite form, that the " merry-man," or, as he is still called in some
remote part of our provinces, the " pickle," attached to one of the
very primitive strolling companies (those unfortunate dramatic
artists, who were occasionally haled up before a justice of the
peace and set in the stocks as rogues and vagabonds), would be
retained for some special occasion such as a wedding-festival, or
the visit of some great or royal personage, who might look for
more entertainment than the ordinary resources of his host could
supply. In still more recent days, recognised wags and ad-
mitted jesters have occasionally found their way to the tables of
the titled or wealthy, in order that they may make a little mirth.

The last court jester of whom we have any account1 was one
Muckle-John. His predecessor was Archie Armstrong in the time
of Charles I. This Archie fell into disgrace by a sarcasm on Arch-
bishop Laud, and was condemned to have " his coat pulled over his
ears," a punishment as degrading, I suppose, as unfrocking a clergy-
man. It seems the Archbishop, who was a person of short stature,
was dining with the King, and Archie was desired by his Majesty
to say grace, which he did in this fashion : " Great praise be given
to God, but little laud to the devil."

In the days of the Commonwealth that followed, the jester and his
first cousin, the player, must have had hard times. Naturally
enough, the Puritanical party would have been averse to anything
like mimetic sport or jesting, for a generous sympathy with mirth
in even its most simple form, seems strangely incompatible with the
profession of exceptional piety ; and the Trinculos and Festes of the
period might have got much comic capital out of its tones and

216 THE THEATRE. [Nov. i, 1 890

phrases. It is just possible that a somewhat keener sense of the'
ridiculous would be of advantage to certain of our most notable
exemplars of religious fervour, who love to pray standing at the
corners of the streets where they may be seen of men.

Though the restoration of the Stuarts was also that of the drama
in England, and that too in the grossest form our country has-
known — only a natural re-acting, probably, of the severe Puritan
dynasty — we do not hear of any recognised court jester. In
the court of His Majesty King Charles the Second (" Dei gr :
Def : Fid : &c.") a professed joker or buffoon might have been con-
sidered a superfluity ; and though as late as 1728 the Earl of Suffolk'b-
establishment included one, as we learn from Dean Swift's epitaph
on Dicky Pearce (not a very great effort, by the way, when we
consider the writer and his materials to work on), the race became
virtually extinct with Muckle-John.

Though Douce in his dissertation on the clowns and jesters of
Shakespeare asserts that the private or court jester sprung from the-
"Vice" of the old miracle plays of a previous age, the character had
existed ages before that time. An indiscreet jester in the reign of
Tiberius, who had not learnt how to time his jokes or against whom
to make them, met, as we are told, some persons in the streets of
Rome carrying a dead body, and placing his ear to the lips of the
corpse, pretended he had received a message from the other world
rebuking the Emperor for his delay in the performance of certain
promises he had made ; but the unfortunate wag paid dearly for-
his grim joke, as he was put to death by the Imperial order. We
may be thankful we live in easier times, or the ranks of our
paragraph writers and caricaturists might be thinned somewhat.

Josephus in his History also mentions one Trypho, a king's-
jester, about 180 B.C., who was " appointed for jokes and laughter
at festivals." But Douce, who would no doubt be well acquainted
with these and many other instances of the antiquity of the office,
refers probably to the English jester only. It may be, then, that
one of these proving a diverting fellow in his 'performance, was
selected by a royal or noble personage to promote the hilarity of,-
what was very likely, rather a dull assemblage at home.

It was the duty of this character, called in the miracle plays the-
"Vice," to contend with and put to flight the Prince of Darkness :
and for this purpose he was armed with a light bat, or sword of
lath, and not uncommonly was represented as a clown or rustic
fellow. This wooden sword is clearly the forerunner of Harlequin's
magic bat, by means of which he belabours or mystifies the clown :
for the latter grotesque character, in spite of the changes intro-
duced by Grimaldi in the representation, is the lineal descendant
of the Evil Spirit of the old Moralities. When the jester's became
a recognised vocation, we have the " Vice's " sword transformed
into the " Fool's " stick with the inflated bladder, and more recently
into the jester's bauble. Shakespeare makes frequent allusion in
his plays to this character of " Vice." Hamlet, when indignantly

Xov. l, 18'JO.] POOR YORICK. S17

describing his uncle the usurper, calls him "a, vice o£ kings;''
and Falstaff threatens to beat Prince Hal out of his kingdom " with
a dagger of lath." No doubt the jester of those days was sometimes
an awkward or simple kind of fellow, or found it convenient to
assume that character ; and thus the term " clown " was used in-
differently in Shakespeare's day either in its original meaning of
an uncouth and clumsy rustic, or to signify a professed buffoon who
probably assumed the manners and speech of such. We find in
Shakespeare's " Twelfth Night " the character spoken of by Curio as
" Feste the Jester," is set down in the dramatis itcrsonw simply as
" Clown," and is so ordinarily distinguished throughout the play.
Yet he is anything but what that title would imply ; while in some
of the earlier editions of Hamlet, the stage-direction for the Grave-
diggei s is " Enter two clowns." The term was a convenient one,
and was used indiscriminately for the actual character or the
assumption of it. Even Touchstone, who is still less a clown than
his affinity, the " corruptor of words " in Twelfth Night, is so
described in the dramatis persons of " As You Like It," although in
his brief scene with the rustic William (the low comedy or "clown"
proper of the play), he gives his opinion of the class pretty finely.
Shakespeare seems to have been content to include several 01 his
broad comedy characters under that comprehensive title, and did
not, apparently, give himself much trouble to find appropriate
names.

Thus, we have so designated the " satirical rogue " and boon com-
panion of the two roystering knights in Twelfth Night, and the-
simple gull, who falls an easy victim to Autolycus in " A Winter's
Tale," though no two comic personages could be more distinct. I
shall continue this subject in the next issue of THE THEATRE if the-
Editors will permit me.

318 THE THE A TEE. [Nov. i, 1890.

Stage Realities.

By W. H. HUDSON.

,N his Nodes Atticce Aulus Gillius tells a singular story of a
famous Greek actor named Polus. Playing on one
occasion the title-rofe in Sophocles' tragedy, " Electra," he
was seen to burst into broken sobs over the urn which
was supposed to enshrine the remains of Orestes, whom
Electra believes to be dead. The vast Athenian assembly
was moved to a man by the actor's tears, but few present guessed
their terrible significance. The urn, in fact, contained the ashes of
the tragedian's only son.

The incident has been not without its counterparts in the history
of the modern stage. Mrs. Siddons, as Lady Constance, wept
motherly tears over her own boy, and Macready has described how
the recent loss of his daughter gave poignancy to his emotion as
Virginius. These stories, and others that might be added, show us
indeed how, Diderot and his followers notwithstanding, the world
of reality will sometimes invade the world of fiction, and the actor's
feelings be heightened and coloured by the feelings of the man.
Perhaps it is impossible for an outsider ever to realize how often
genuine tears have been shed upon the stage — not the tears of Quin
in "Coriolanus," or Mrs. Porter as Isabella, or Talma in " Simais, fils
de Tamerlane," in which cases the performers were admittedly in-
fluenced only by the dramatic force of the situation, but the tears
of those who have seen in the parts entrusted to them the faint
reflections of individual griefs.

Not in this way alone, however, have fact and fiction been seen to
overlap. The old Roman love of unrelieved realism (which, it may
be suggested, was probably a main cause of the inability of that
people to succeed in the higher regions of dramatic art), prompted
them occasionally to introduce into their stage performances the
actual exhibition of an occurrence in place of the mere imitation
thereof. Thus we read that once, at least, the death of Hercules in
" Hercules Fureus," was represented by the burning upon the stage
of a criminal who had been lying under sentence of death, and who
was thus made at once to satisfy the requirements of the outraged
law, and to minister to the inhuman pleasure of the Roman
populace. The revolting brutality of such an incident of course
very properly blinds us to its artistic implications ; but it may be
pointed out that, viewed on its aesthetic side alone, it reveals no

Nov. l, 1890.] STAGE REALITIES. 219

greater misconception of the first principals of dramatic effect than
is to be found in many modern developments of the realistic craze.

But apart altogether from such designed occurrences, stage history
furnishes us with many cases in which death, with a strange and
striking appropriateness, has stepped in to close the mimic scene.
In France, the performer of the part of Judas in an old mystery-
play, getting his neck entangled in a rope, was actually hanged
before the spectators. Similarly, in a Passion Play performed in
Sweden in 1513, one of the actors was so carried away by religious
or dramatic excitement that he actually plunged his spear into the
side of the person representing the Saviour, killing him on the spot.
Every reader of Moliere will recollect how, playing the part of the
pretended invalid in his own Maladelniaginaire, the great dramatist
was struck down by the real illness which so soon proved fatal.
Coincidences even more singular than this are upon record. An
actor of the name of Patterson, for example, was once appearing as
the Duke in " Measure for Measure " — a role in which, it will be
remembered, occurs the following lines : —

" Reason thus with life : —
If I do lose thee, 1 do lose a thing
That none but fools would keep."

and scarcely had he uttered the words before he fell back into the
arms of a brother-actor, dead. Another performer, named Palmer,
expired during the representation of "The Stranger," with the sig-
nificant words —

" O God, O God !
There is another and a better world,"

still upon his lips.

Perhaps among all recorded cases of designed stage realism none
is more singular in its way than that mentioned in connection with
a benefit performance which was given on behalf of Dr. Clancy. No
one knows anything about Dr. Clancy now-a-days, but in his own
times he enjoyed a certain reputation as the author of one or two
plays. His benefit took place at Drury Lane, on April 2, 1744, and
the play chosen for the occasion was " OEdipus," Dr. Clancy, who
was himself blind, performing the part of Tiresias, the blind prophet.
The bill of the play, headed with the pathetic line from Milton,
" The day returns, but not to me returns." expressed the hope that
the " novelty " of the performance, as well as the " unhappiness " of
the doctor's case, would " engage the favour and protection of the
British audience " ; and it is certain that, from one cause or the
other, the house was well filled. But it nevertheless seems to us that
the representation must have been of a particularly painful and dis-
tressing character.

But though we have hitherto only referred to their pathetic or
tragic aspects, stage realities have also their humourous side. It is
said, for instance, that when a piece called the " Battle of Waterloo "

220 THE THEATRE. [Xov. i, 1890.

was first produced upon the English stage, the violence of national
prejudices suddenly broke out in a somewhat curious way. As the
play originally stood, a number of French soldiers had. in a particular
battle scene, to drive their English enemies in confusion across the
stage. This was wrell enough for a performance or two, but patience
and endurance have their limits, and the English supers at length
grew weary. of having, night after night, to suffer ignominious defeat
amid the cat-calls of the gallery and pit. One evening their
patriotism proved too much for them. Instead of retreating at the
proper cue, as dutiful "supers" ought to have done, they turned
upon the " Johnny Crapauds " with all the hearty pugnacity of
genuine Englishmen, and, much to the amusement of the house, and
equally to the dismay of the management, drove them triumphantly
from the scene.

It must have struck most spectators that the exigencies of dramatic-
performance often present extremely tempting opportunities for the
exhibition of personal prejudices or spite. A dangerously suggestive
situation in Lee's " Rival Queens " has been thus twice turned by
distinguished actresses to meanly personal account. It happens that
in a famous scene between the two heroines, Roxana and Statira, the
former has to stab the latter with a dagger. Once in the hands of
Mrs. Bany, and later in those of Pe^ Woffington, the dagger was
aimed at the breast of the fair rival with a vigour which originated,
not in the anger .of the queen, but in the irritation of the actress.
In much the same manner an incident in a play was once used by
some " supers " for the punishment of a leading actor by whom they
considered that they had been treated with scant respect. The actor,
as an honest sailor, had to rescue a fair lady from the clutches of a
band of pirates — in other words, from the offended " supers." But
instead of accepting the rescue after a brief and heartless resistance,
as the exigencies of the play required, the pirates fell in earnest upon
the unfortunate sailor, and after bearing him by main force from
the stage, returned, and, to the unspeakable ;astonishment of the
audience, made the damsel secure in their own secluded cave.

It is notorious enough that when an actor gets welljwarmed up to
his work, the faint line between jest and earnest is apt to be over-
stepped. Edwin Forrest, the great American tragedian, was, in
particular, noted for his " powerful " acting, and was somewhat in-
clined, when the opportunity served, to perform with a vigour
which made it rather unpleasently hot for those who had to play to
him. On one occasion, while rehearsing a Roman play, he up-
braided the "supers" — with whom he had to engage in a hand-to-
hand struggle — for the lukewarmness of their attack. One of the
band forthwith enquired if Forrest wished to make " a bully-fight
of it," and Forrest said " Yes." And a " bully-fight " of it they cer-
tainly made. That night the mimic battle was indeed turned for
once into a thorough-going game of fisticuffs. The Roman miniona
struck out like men who meant business ; the hero answered with
•well-timed blow on blow. At length one super was knocked head

Nov. i, 1890.] CURIOSITIES OF ADVERTISING. 221

over heels, four retired to have their wounds dressed, and the others
took to flight ; and thus the Roman warrior was left breathless in-
deed from his exertions, but still the undisputed master of the field.
It may fairly be supposed that for once Forrest had as much
realism as he desired, unless, indeed, he belonged to that class of
men who never have enough of anything ; like the manager, who,
having fined a "super " for not making up black enough as a negro,
afterwards discovered that it was upon a real negro that he had ex-
pended the vials of his* wrath.

Curiosities of Theatrical Advertising.

Dedicated to Stage Managers.

COMEDY," said H. J. Byron, " is like a cigar. If it's
good, everyone wants a box ; if it's bad, no amount of
puffing will make it draw." This aphorism contains
a deal of truth, and the principle of it is, no doubt, the
reason why some managers omit to keep their plays well
advertised ; and it must have been these self-sufficient
men that gave existence to the proverb flatteringly cherished among
themselves — " Good wine needs no bush." However, in spite of
this axiom, there are numerous instances where a play, formerly a
failure, has been turned into a success by adroit advertising ; there-
fore, we cite the valuable advice contained in the following verses : —

" Go forth in haste
With bills and paste.

Proclaim to all creation
That men are wise
Who advertise

In this our generation."

The three main modes of attracting the public eye are journalistic,
pictorial, and hand-bill advertisements, and the latter are often
paraded and distributed in the west-end of London by means of

222 THE THEATRE. [Nov. 1, 1890.

the humble sandwich-man, who was the subject of an amusing
sketch in Punch some time ago. He was boarded between an adver-
tisement of J. L. Toole, in the farce of "Ici on Parle Frangaise."
" Ha ! Un interprete ambulant. Quelle bonne idee ! " exclaims a
stranger from Paris who meets him in the street, and who wishes to
know the way to the South Kensington Museum. " Pardon, Mon-
sieur Tble" this gentleman says, "mais par ou-faut il prendre, s'il
vous plait, pour arriver au Musee de Soutte Qitinzingqueton ?"

" The world," says a contemporary writer, <k knows little of the
wounds it inflicts on the peripatetic sandwich-man ; and he conceals
his embitterment under a placid condition of mental reservation,
unrippled by the faintest indication of any disturbance. He is silent
and cogitative, like a philosopher. Nothing is left to his discretion.""
The one thing required of him when between the boards is constant
motion, and if he keeps on the move he fulfils his unenviable duty
to his employer's satisfaction. A famous comedian was walking
down the Strand a few years ago with a friend, when he came upon
a long string of melancholy-looking sandwich-men with ridiculous
caps, such as acting-managers very .unkindly oblige these serfs to
carry nowadays, though when thus arrayed they are paid threepence
per dayextra. " I pity those poor beggars," the friend said, " dressed
up like that, and condemned to trudge the street for eighteen-pence.1'
;' Eighteen-pence and their board ! " the actor retorted, with a sad
smile.

A good deal might be said about pictorial advertisements, one of
the largest of which was produced for the Adelphi drama, " The
Harbour Lights." It measured twenty feet by fourteen, and repre-
sented fifty-six double -crown sheets. It was printed in twenty-eight
parts, and in five colours. One hundred and forty stones were used,
one for each colour, twenty-eight times. Each stone cost £5, and
weighed seven hundredweight. This huge poster cost something
like £600 a thousand. Threepence a sheet was the charge for post-
ing the bill, so that each time it was displayed it cost fourteen
shillings, and if fifty copies were posted, which is about the number
used in a town like Manchester, Birmingham, or Glasgow, the outlay
was £35. This is the cost of one bill, and only intended to last a
week or two, so our readers can conceive the amount of capital re-
quired to take a well-billed play on tour. Nearly £20,000 was spent
on pictorial advertisements for "The Silver King," and almost as
much for " The Lights o' London." The most amusing, and often-
times the most striking of the sandwich-man's bills, are placed before
the public by Willie Edouin, to advertise his successful Strand farces.

In America, when a manager wishes to make what he would call
a " splurge," he supercedes the sandwich man or compliments him
by a waggon with various devices erected upon it. When " Pinafore "
was being played at New York, a full-rigged frigate, at least eight
feet long, was carted through the principle avenues of traffic as a
counterfeit presentment of that famous vessel ; when " Uncle Tom'a
Cabin " was revived at the Grand Opera House in the same city, a.

Nov. i, 1890. j CURIOSITIES OF ADVERTISING. 22$

large truck was seen in the streets with a little log hut built upon it,,
and out of the window an old iiegro with white hair was peering ;
when the Madoc war was dramatized at the Old Bowery Theatre,
a detachment of real Indians, with the genuine brogue of Killarney,
were displayed in Broadway on fine afternoons. It does not say
much for American theatrical combinations that the managers of
one of them ostentatiously proclaim : " We pay our salaries regularly
every Tuesday ; by so doing, we avoid lawsuits, are not compelled to
constantly change our people, and always carry our watches in our
pockets."

Many actors have provided amusing advertisements for their own
benefit nights which have been the means of obtaining a full house,
owing, probably, more to the wit and ingenuity displayed in the
wording of them than to their abilities and talents as players.

The following letter from John Listen appeared in the newspapers
in June, 1817, on the approach of his benefit : —

" Mr. Liston to the Editor. — SIR, — My benefit takes place this evening at
Covent Garden Theatre, and I doubt not will be splendidly attended. Several
parties in the first circle of fashion were made the moment it was announced.
I shall perform Forjran in " The Slave," and Leporello in " The Libertine ;"
and in the delineation of those arduous characters I shall display much feeling
and discrimation, together with great taste in my dresses and elegance in my
manners. The audience will be delighted with my exertions, and testify by
rapturous applause their most decided approbation. When we con&ider, in ad-
dition to my professional merits, the loveliness of my person and fascination of my
face, which are- only equalled by the amiability of my professional character,
having never pinched my children, nor kicked my wife out of bed, there is no
doubt but this Puff will not be inserted in vain. — I am, sir, your obedient
servant, J LISTON."

Kemble and Lewis chancing to be at Dublin at the same time, were
both engaged by the manager for one night's performance in " Leon "
and " The Copper Captain." Their announcement was coupled with
the following delectable passage, which is a good sample of Irish
puffing : — " They never performed together in the same piece, and in
all human probability, they never will again ; this evening is the
summit of the manager's climax. He has constantly gone higher
and higher in his endeavours to delight the public ; beyond this, it
is not in nature to go."

A member of the Company at Callenbach's Theatre, Berlin, was to
have a benefit night, and the question was how to get together a large
audience. Accordingly, some days before there appeared in the
papers an advertisement to the following effect : —

A GENTLEMAN, who has a niece and ward possessing a disposable
-£*• property of 15,000 thalers, together with a mercantile establishment,
desires to find a young man who would be able to manage the business and
become the husband of the young lady. Apply to.

Hundreds of letters poured in, in reply to the advertisement. On
the morning of the benefit day, each person who had sent a reply
received the following note : — " The most important point is, of
course, that you should like one another. I and my niece are going;

224 THE THEATRE. [Nov. 1, 1890.

to Callenbach's Theatre this evening, and you can just drop in upon
us in Box No. I." Of course the theatre was crammed. AH the best
paying places in the house were filled early in the evening by a
motley male public, got up in a style which is seldom seen at the
Royal Opera itself. Glasses were levelled on all sides in the direc-
tion of Box No. I, and eyes were strained to catch the first glimpse
of the niece when she should appear in company with her uncle.
But uncles are proverbially " wicked old men," and in the present
•case neither uncle nor niece was to be found, and the disconsolate
lovers — of a fortune — were left to clear up the mystery as best they
could. The theatre has not had such an audience for years.

A well-known provincial actor in Russia, wishing to fill the theatre
on his benefit night at Smolensk, a town where the people are too
stingy to take any other tickets but free passes, hit upon a dodge
of his own for gaining a crowded audience. Obtaining the sanction
of the police, he scattered a large number of red tickets — the usual
oolour of free passes — about the streets, at the same time arranging
with the officials at the theatre that the free colour that night should
be blue. In the evening the entrance to the theatre was crowded as it
had never been before, and, when the inner door was opened, the
public, most of whom had placed their fur cloaks and warm boots in
the cloak-room, surged along the passage towards the seats. " These
tickets are of no. use," politely exclaimed the inspector, handing them
back to the crowd on its arrival. " How so ? " demanded the people in
a chorus, " they are red ones." " We see that," replied the ticket in-
spector ; " but they ought to be blue. You probably picked them up
in the streets." The public turned red with confusion, and retired
to get proper tickets at the cashier's office. The theatre was crammed
with spectators, and M. Petroff was applauded by hundi eds who would
have torn him to pieces had they been aware at the time of the trick
he had played upon them.

Thirty years ago the famous impresario, Mario Somigli, of the
Niccolini Theatre in Florence, got up a dramatic performance in
which three eminent artists were to appear, namely, Adelaide Ristori,
Tommasso Salvini, and Ernesto Rossi. When he sat down to compose
the announcement, he was assailed by a terrible doubt. In arranging
the names for the large posters, to which of the two actors of equal
celebrity, Rossi and Salvini, was he to give the precedence, without
offending the susceptibilities of the other ? The wily impresario
soon found a way out of the dilemma. Adelaide Ristori, being a lady,
naturally stood first. As for the other two, he devised, in consultation
with his printer, the following arrangement : —

Nov. 1,1890.] A FAILURE! 225

Thus everybody was satisfied, and both actors afterwards applauded
Mario Somigli as a man of genius.

An ingenious advertising agent, by arranging ordinary printers'
types thus : —

presents us with the portraits of the manager who does not and the
manager who does advertise, and says : " Try it and see how you will
look yourself."

A Failure !

By G. CANNINGE,

LOME years ago I went to the pit of a London theatre to see
the premiere of a play written by an unknown author.
The piece proved an undeniable failure. Tho first act
was well received ; the second fairly so ; but in the third
an unfortunate remark from the hero caused the storm —
which I felt had been gathering — to break out in real
earnest. Howls greeted sentiments, and the actors who spoke them,
alike ; nay, even if a door would not open or shut properly, the
public resented the accident as though it had been done on purpose
to annoy them, and yelled in unison. The drama — which I will here
call " Restitution " — was, no doubt, not a good one taken as a whole,
though I could see that it contained plenty of what is called " good
stuff," but it was badly stage-managed, was heavily charged with a
superabundance of dialogue often bombastical and out of place,
and worse than all, it had been suffered to retain some unfortunate ex-
pressions calculated to raise popular ridicule. For all that, some of
the scenes struck me as singularly pretty and poetical, evidently
the work of a man of a cultured intelligence, while some of the more
stirring incidents were by no means devoid of an ingenuity in their
contrivance.

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI. N

226 THE THEATRE. [Nov. l, 1890.

Near me sat a group of young men who were unsparing in their
denunciations, and, while allowing nothing good in the piece,
unnerved the actors by a succession of would-be witty remarks.

At the close of the performance an ironical call was raised for the
author, whom I will christen Alfred Fitzroy. It was his first
attempt at stage literature, I afterwards learned, and he possibly
imagined there might be a spark of genuineness in their demand for
his appearance. Anyhow, Mr. " Fitzroy " stepped before the foot-
lights, only, of course, to be greeted with a chorus of hootings and
cries of " Get off," " Go home," and such-like pleasantries. I shall
never forget the young man's face as he heard these shouts of
derision.

I had never set eyes on him before, but I felt so truly sorry for
him that instinctively I began applauding, and a few others, perhaps
actuated by the same feelings as myself, followed my example. I
sincerely trust poor Fitzroy heard our well-meant efforts.

As I came out I mixed with the stream that was pouring from
the gallery ; and turned in, with a small knot that had attracted my
attention, at the door of a little tavern up a side street close to the
theatre. I was anxious to hear what the " first-nighters " had to say
about the play.

There were not more than three or four people ab the bar when we
entered. One of these turned to the new-comers and asked, "Well,
what's the new piece like next door ? " " Rot," answered one of the
young men, more concisely than elegantly, then went on, " We 'ave
ad a lark, I can tell ye." Turning to one of his pals, he added, " I
say, Jim, did you 'ear me 'ollow out when the gal wouldn't give the
bloke a kiss, ' Don't be shy, lady, you'll be sorry by-and-by ? ' '»
" Didn't I ! " replied an admiring satellite, " I thought I'd a busted.
And when t'other cove talked about the star a-sheddin' something or
other," joined in a third, " Bill calls out, ' Shut it, ole man, never
mind wat they're a-sheddin' of ! ' lor 'ow I larf'd." " Xo, but the best
war when the hauthor kem out," cried a fourth, " I kicked up a row
even till 'e did, but the moment 'e showed his 'ead we "

This was too much for me. I remembered the young man's face ;
and my blood, which had been boiling during the foregoing remarks,
here boiled over.

"Yes, by G— d," I burst out, I daresay stupidly enough, for why
was I championing the cause of a perfect stranger, " it's you, and
such as you, that make a first night hideous ! Do you suppose you
could write one line of the dialogue you've just been ridiculing ? "
I asked, looking at the narrow brow and receding chin of the man.
who had objected to the " star-shedding " image. " Do you suppose
that the author, the actors, actresse?, down even to the very sci'iu1-
shifters, were not doing all they knew to please you ? Applaud if
you please, hiss if you please, but have patience before you do the
atter. And above all, don't call out an unoffending author for the mere
pastime of baiting him when he comes in answer to your summons."

There was a dead silence in the room when I had finished. This

1, iseo.] A FAILURE! 227

outbreak on my part was RO evidently unexpected as to leave my
hearers dumb with surprise. No doubt the whole scene must have
appeared very ludicrous to a dispassionate observer ; but let me hope
the young men I had addressed carried some of my hints away with
them and profited by them.

Before the interesting group was able to recover their astonish-
ment, I had drunk up the liquor I had ordered, and left the house.

Now comes a strange circumstance.

Less than a week after the production of " Restitution " I became
acquainted with young Fitzroy through the intermediary of a mutual
friend. I found him a gentle, quiet, studiously-inclined fellow, and,
although I was some years his senior, we became fast friends. I
had not known him many hours when I judged that he was in a
consumption. I questioned our joint friend, who told me that
Alfred had long been in a 'decline, but that the hard work and the
irregular meals preceding the production, and the dismal failure of
his play had rapidly accelerated the progress of the disease.

Why lengthen o'ut in the telling what must be related. Eight
months after I made his acquaintance poor Fitzroy died in my arms

Previous to his death he had told me I could, do what I pleased with
his papers. On examining them, what interested me more than any-
thing else was that portion of a carefully kept diary which had reference
to his play. I may say that during his life-time I had never more than
distantly alluded to " Restitution," for I saw at once that mention of
it seemed to pain him. Here, however, in the pages of his journal,
I found his inmost thoughts on the subject laid bare. As the several
entries redound only to his credit, I shall venture to transcribe some
of them. Their perusal may possibly give food for thought : may
help us to realise the pains, sorrows, labours, and anxieties that are
suffered by those who strive to minister to the public's pleasure.
And I could not help thinking when I had come to the end of them
that could those of my " young friends in front " who were so free
in their denunciations and personalities but have had access to
Fitzroy's diary, they would perhaps have been a little more merciful
in their treatment of him on the first night of his first play.

" August 15, 18 — . Finished the last line to-night. Thank God.

* Restitution,' you jade, what an infinity of trouble you have caused
me ; anxious days in plenty, sleepless nights in abundance. Yet all
is repaid by the satisfaction of reaching the ' finis ' that at last crowns
the work.

'•'•Sept. 1. Read play to S yesterday. Can, I think, always

rely on S 's judgment — a capable, sound man. He liked the

piece as a whole, but thought explanations too voluminous. ' My
dear boy,' he said, ' the public don't want things explained. So long
a,s an end is arrived at — and that end effective — they don't care a
button as to means employed.' I feel that there is much common-
eense in what he says, and shall cut explanation as to how

* Cyril ' escaped from Newgate. Merely show audience that he has
escaped ; and when ' Rose ' says : ' If my husband where only here

228 THE THEATRE. [Xov. i, 1890.

he would ' Cyril (entering) : ' He is here ! ' Rose : ' Free ! '

Cyril -. ' Free— to save your honour and mine ! ' That seems to me-
to save an anti-climax.

" Sept. 14. Having made the excision, read piece to R . Very-
complimentary, till he came to third act, then he said, ' Fitzroy, my
boy, this won't do.' ' What won't do ? ' ' End of act altogether too
abrupt ; you don't vouchsafe one word of explanation of how, or by

what means, your hero escaped from prison.' ' But 1 thought y

* Never mind, my dear old fellow, what you thought ; I've been a
journalist thirty years, and I think I know what I'm talking about.
Your plan would have served thirty or forty years ago right enough,,
but now an audience is much more exigent. It wants things ex-
plained, aye, and minutely explained, too. They want what they
call their ' reason ' satisfied, as well as their ' senses.' On considering

the matter carefully am not at all sure that R is not right. Will

think it out further.

" Sept. 15. Spent sleepless night, cough worrying all the time ;.
thinking which of the two courses to pursue. At last resolved to
restore original explanations.

"Sept. 20. Read piece to F , of the Buskin Theatre. Said

there were some good speeches — ' cackle ' I think he called them —
but said he didn't think any man would have acted as the villain
did under the circumstances. To use his own words, 'My dear
boy, he wouldn't have done it.' Seemed provokingly cocksure
about this ; but as I am just as likely to be right on a question of
human conduct as he, shall not alter motive. As an actor of
experience, he may be right in saying that act ii. should be art
exterior, though this will necessitate a re-writing of greater part of

act. F added, that if I will write up the villain in act iv., he will

try and introduce piece to H , his manager.

" Oct. 2. Just got back piece from H , tells me frankly he doesn't

fancy it, but says it might suit M .

" Oct. 10. Sent piece to M , he won't let me read it to him..

Hope he'll read it to himself.

(The next entry is two months later.)

"Dec. 12. Most polite note from M . Has only had time to read'

first act ; fears to retain MS. longer ; reluctantly returns. In a P.S,
he adds : ' Why not have it translated into Norwegian ? From what
I've read of act i. think it just the piece for the Norwegians. Ibsen,
you know, was there last summer ; charming place.' Can't afford to do-
this.

(There occurs anotherentry, four months later than the last, during
which time Fitzroy seems to have tried nearly all the remaining
London managers with his play.)

"April 1. Can it be possible ! ' Restitution' as good as accepted.

X , the manager of the 'Parnassus' let me read it to him

yesterday. Thought part would suit his wife ; but said I must
make radical changes lirst. Fancied that some of the leading mau's
speeches would be ineffective as coming from a man's lips, but

?fov. 1, 1890. J A FAILURE! 229

•spoken by a woman would have stirring effect on audience. Urged
me to transfer them from C3*ril's part to Rose's. Would not allow
.-second act to be an exterior on account of expense — set pieces, &c. — 33
must alter it back to interior. In coaclusion he said : ' Then you
must bring it up to date : from 1797 to to-day. Your idea picturesque,
I daresay ; but costumes, my dear sir ' — and he shook his head
wearily. ' In that case,' he went on, ' your prison will have to be
Portsmouth and not Newgate. When these alterations, and a few
others that will suggest themselves at rehearsal, have been carried
•out, I have no doubt the piece will come out well enough.' Just aa
I reached the hall door he called m9 back and said, ' I forgot to say
all those explanations at the end of act must come out — -can't be too
iterse nowadays ; must chance whether audience will want to know
how he got out of prison.'

" May 1. After month's incessant work, practically re-writing

•piece, brought it back to X •. Received me extremely civilly, but

after ' hemming ' and ' hawing ' for some time, he at length said
-that, to his overwhelming regret, since the last time he had seen me
,he had been forced to accept a comedy from a well known author.
This would, of course, preclude the possibility of doing my play, at
•least for a very long time to come. Deeply sorry for all the trouble
<he had given me ; some future time, &c., &c. A crushing blow —
almost mentally stunned me. Must try to bear up against it.

" May 4. Charming letter from Miss Q •, asking me to call with

piece. Received me most cordially ; had heard of play and would
like to hear it. I read it. Expressed herself delighted ; cried over
act iv. ' Only one drawback.' ' What was that ? ' ' Not in blank
verse. You know, I always play in blank verse. I can scarcely
dissever myself from the classical drama — so grand — so lofty.'
Would I put my beautiful thoughts into blank verse and put the
period back, say, to the Monmouth rebellion ? — always a romantic
period in history. After a long conversation at last agreed to do this ;
• eight weeks' work in store for me.

"Ji(/ir f). Wonder if galley slaves work as hard as I do ? Hope not
for their sakes, but then presumably they havn't got coughs, so in any
case they score one over me. However, have done the new version
at last. Will call on Miss Q to-morrow.

"June G. Called on Miss Q . Read piece ; enchanted with it ;

cried again, at act iii. this time. At close dried her eyes and said, after
some litile hesitation, that she feared she had something rather un-
. pleasant to communicate to me — in fact a little disappointment.
Waited breathless. She then explained that her manager, whom she
had counted on to produce the play, had point blank refused to have
anything tb do with a blank-verse piece at his establishment ; had, in
-fact, accepted a comic-opera and proposed to put it in rehearsal at once.
Further, that ' the brute,' as she called him, had offered her a part
and — she had accepted it.

" Oct. 3. Piece has lain in my drawer four months ; havn't had the
heart to push it since last blow.

230 THE THEATRE. [Nov. 1. 1890.

" Oct 5. Wire from K , of the ' Felicity,' to send play. Have

done so — both versions.

" Oct 7. Can scarcely believe what I am writing. K has ac-
cepted ' Restitution,' but can't do it till next year, when his new
theatre opens. Better then than never. Wish I could have gone to-
Yentnor, though ; can't now, too expensive ; will if piece is success.

" Oct 8. Went to see K , most encouraging. Believes in play.

Intends to make big production of it.

"Jan. 3, 18 — . At last. Rehearsals of ' Restitution ' have actually
begun. Had our first one to-day ; what a lot there is to do, seems as if
hard work were only just beginning.

" Jan. 5. Very long rehearsal, awfully tired. Sorry to say U—
has thrown up his part ; don't know where we can get so good a man ;
had counted on him.

" Jan. 7. Got a man in place of U . ; not nearly so good. Miss

W says she can't act with him ; if this is really the case don't

know what we shall do.

" Jan. 17. Find I haven't written diary for ten days. Well, one
entry will about do for all : ' Long rehearsal, hard work, worry, and
anxiety.'

" Jan. 18. Tired out. Hardly able to hold pen. Ran down to
Portsmouth for accurate information about prison discipline. Got
back five. Then to ' London Library" to look up Parliamentary
papers dealing with Prison Act of 18 — . Hurried dinner ; and off to a
night rehears?! at 7. Rehearsed till 12.30 ; shouldn't mind fatigue if

cough did not worry. Signed agreement with K , not very good

for me — 5 p.c. on profits. Still, lucky to get piece done.

" Jan. 19. Rehearsed again. One or two of the company interest

me. Miss B seems a nice, quiet girl ; tells me she has been out

of engagement eight months, but if piece ' catches on ' she will be all
right, in spite of the dresses she has to find— three handsome ones ;

if it's not a success does not know u-hat will happen. L , the

little man who plays Ephraim, seems a decent chap, too ; says this
is his first London appearance ; left a provincial engagement to come
up, but believes greatly in his part, and expects it will do him good,
if the piece is a success. How devoutly I trust it may be, for all
our sakes. How much seems to depend on it !

" Jan. 23. Find I am wrong about length of warders' tunics. One
must be so particular nowadays. Ran down to Portsmouth again.
While there made enquiries in harbour about one or two details for
the ship's rigging in act i. Expensive work these journeys, and
so many tips.

"Jan. 25. Dress rehearsal, began 0.30, over at 2. a.m. : anxious
beyond expression. All went fairly well ; success predicted. But

we haveu't faced first night audience yet. . C spoke apostrophe to

stars beautifully ; if nothing else goes with the audience, I think this
•will. Heaven, how often I've written and re-written that speech.
Next time I open this diary may it be to record a success ! If it is, 1
believe I shall go mad !

Nov. 1,1890. J

OUR PL A Y-EOX.

23 r

"Jan. 2(>. la.m. All over. A failure! How can I write the

word. Poor Miss B ; poor L , and so many more. God help

them, I can't bear "

Here the record abruptly ends. After this my poor friend eems.
to have lost all heart. This is the last entry he ever wrote.

©ur

" THE BLACK ROVER."

Mclo Iramatic opera, in three acts, written and composed by LUSO>.MIJK SK.VSKLLE.
First produced iu London at the Cflobu riio.iti'e, Tirtjjday, Sept. 23, 1890.

Patron io
Jacob . . . .
Cedro Giunian
l'hick:inac|iie
Felix . . . .

Mr. WIT. HOGARTH.

Mr. JOHX LK HAY.
Mr. CHAS. COLLKTTK.
Mr. SHIUL, BARUV.
Mr. M.VUHICK MANCIXI.

Moro

The Black Rover

Annetia

Sabina

Isidoi a . .

Mr. ROYDON EULYXNIO.

Mr. W.M. LUDWIG.
Miss F. LLOYD.
Miss EFFIK CHAPUY.
Miss BLANCHE FENTON.

It is certainly a novelt}* for the libretto and the music of an opera
to be the work of one man ; and judging from the lyrics of "The
Black Rover," Mr. Searelle would perhaps have acted more wisely
had he called in the aid of another. The opera is justly qualified as
" melodramatic." It is founded on the legend, so universal through-
out the world almost, of a phantom vessel doomed to sail the ocean,
until intercession or expiation shall release it from its ban. In this
case the pirate king has thrown overboard the mother of the heroine
Isidora, and he and his crew will only find release from their mortal
torments when they shall once more hear the lullaby that the mother
sang to her child. Isidora is intended by her reputed father
Patronio for the bride of a Count Montalba, but she is in love with a
poor fisherman, one Felix. They have heard of a treasure buried by
the pirates, and they go in search of this. It is specially guarded by
the " Black Rover," who suddenly appears and carries them off to his
ship. There they are to walk the plank, and so Isidora asks per-
mission to utter the prayer she learnt at her mother's knee. She
sings the lullaby, which releases the pirates from their thraldom,,
the vessel falls to pieces and sinks, but Isidora and her lover and
companions (for Chickanaque, Jacob and Patronio have also been
made prisoners), are all washed ashore on the Island of Cuba, where
the scene is laid. They find the negroes in revolt, and are likely to-
be burned by them at the stake, but are saved by Chickanaque, who
being a half-crazed creature, is looked upon with reverence by the
blacks, and is allowed to go at large. The underplot consists in the
fact that Pedro Guzman, the valet to the Count Montalba, assumes.

232 THE THEATRE. [Xov. i, 1890-

his master's name, and that Sabina changes with Isidora and passes
as the rich heiress. Whatever success the piece achieved was due to
the excellence of the scenery, for the "Black Rover" is mag-
nificently put on the stage, and to the very fine impersonation of
the title-role by Mr. Ludwig. Neither Felix nor Isidora, the hero and
heroine, found good exponents. Mr. John Le Hay was very clever
and droll. Mr. Shiel Barry's Chickanaque was almost a repetition of
his Gaspard in the " Cloches de Corneville." Mr. Charles Collette
did all that was possible with a thankless part. Miss Effie Chapuy
should have had more to do ; the little she had, she did well, and
sang very charmingly. Mr. Hoyden Erlynne gave a vivid colouring
to the part of the bloodthirsty Moro.

" THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE."

A modern drama, in four acts, adaptPd from Alphonse Baudot's " La Lutte pour la Vic," by ROBERT

BUCIIANAN and FHKD HORNKR.
First produced at the Avenue Theatre, Thursday, September 25, 1890.

Mr. BKX WhJJSTKK.

Paul Astier Mr. GKO. ALEXANDER.

t'heniineau, his friend Mr. A. CHKVALIKH.

C>unt Adrian! ..

Valllant . .

Antonin Causs-ade

Vedrine . . . .

Heurtebri? e

Due do Brentigny

Monsieur Kobiet

Stenne

Paskowitch .. ..

Belenj

Mr. NUTOOHBl GOULD. Lydie

Mr. FREDERICK KEKU. i Ooonteu Fodore

Mr. BUCKLAAV. Madame de Quincan

Mr. GHOH<;K CAPEL. poix

Esther de Seleny .. -Miss ALMA STANLEY.
La ^.:?,ref .hale db ! M iss KATE PHILLIPS.

MissLAi'HA GHAVKS.

Miss LILIAN Hixuf'ro

Miss GHANVILLE.

Mr. BATSON. La Marquise deRocai ereMiss STUART.

Mr. ALFRED HOLLES.
Mr. K. H. KKLLY.

Marie

Madame Paul Astier

Mr. A. ROYiTOH. Duchess Padnvani

Miss MELITTA.

Miss GESEVIEVE WARD

When " La Lutte pour la Tie " was produced at Her Majesty's, in
June last by M. Meyer, it was not appreciated by the English public
even in its original, and with the powerful and sympathetic acting
of Mme. Pasca and of M. Marais. One reason of this may have been
that the author evidently mistook the teaching of the Darwinian
theory as to the survival of the fittest, and chose to impute to him
the doctrine that a man, sans foi/, sans lot/, may to gain his own
ends sweep every obstacle from his path, reckless of the consequences
to others ; the other reason may have been that, as a rule, English
people look with some contempt and even ridicule on a middle-aged
woman's foolish love for a young husband. Such a character as the
Duchess Padovani, who really shares the main interest of the play
with Paul Astier, is therefore out of sympathy with her audience.
The English adaptation is announced to have been made by Robert
Buchanan and Fred Horner. Mr. Buchanan is stated in an interview
recorded in a London newspaper to have laid claim to the entire
adaptation. If so, whatever merits or shortcomings there may be in
the work are attributable to him. The drama has been curtailed to
four acts with some advantage, but there is a want of lightness and
relief in it. It will be remembered that Paul Astier, having dissi-
pated the fortune of the Duchess, seeks to gain her consent to a
divorce. As she strenuoxisly opposes this, he determines to rid him-
self of her by poison ; but just as she is about to drink, his courage
fails him, and he stays her hand. A wealthy Jewess, Esther de
Seleny, is willing to accept him for her husband, and the Duchess
having at length freed him to save him from the crime of further
attempts upon her life, he is about to many Esther, when he is shot
down by the father of the girl Lydie whom he has seduced, in
refutation of Astier's theory that the strong always destroy the weak,
the latter sometimes in their turn rising in self-defence and
destroying the strong. In the English version, Antonin Caussade,

Nov. l , 1890.] OUR PL A Y-BOX. 233

the lover of Lydie, is made the instrument to avenge the wrongs
inflicted on her and her father, who both die from the consequences
of Astier's misdeeds. This I am inclined to think is an improvement
on the original. The young fellow has a double motive for taking
the law into his own hands. He has borne, almost with submission,
the loss of the girl he loved, but when he finds her father, the man
who has been also as a father to him, dead of a broken heart on her
grave, an implacable hatred for the man who has wrought the double
mischief fills his breast, he looks upon him as a monster that should
no longer cumber the earth, and finding Astier in the arms of
Esther, gloating over the present success of his schemes, and looking
forward to even greater preferment before men in the future,
Antonin unhesitatingly puts an end to his career. There is a fatal
want of sympathy for all the characters in " The Struggle for Life."
Even to poor Lydie — almost a weak confiding child, very sweetly
played by Miss Laura Graves — our hearts cannot go out, for we know
that she reckons on the divorce of the Duchess, and that she will
then become Mme. Astier. Perhaps we feel most for Antonin
Caussade, the struggling, honest, retiring young chemist, but it must
be admitted that average audiences do not look beneath the sur-
face ; that a stuttering, hesitating man is not generally looked upon
as a hero. All the more credit to Mr. Frederick Kerr, who through
almost the entire second act could not only uphold the interest, and
not cause the titter which his supposed infirmity is prone to raise,
but could actually draw tears from many, and in the last act could
rise to manly dignity, cold and stern, the instrument of justice
though the slayer of his fellow man. Mr. Kerr's performance was a
great one, and has not received the praise which in my opinion it
deserves. Vaillant is made a cherry grateful old man by Mr.
Nutcombe Gould in accordance with his text. The character was
well played, but we see but too little of him in his sorrow to feel
any great pity for him. And what are we to say of Chemineau ?
He is a thoughtless little Boulevardier. He, like Astier, has risen from
nothing, but is4different from Astier who, with readier wit and tact,
can accommodate himself to his improved position. Chemineau
remains but little better than a gamin de Paris, with an intense
admiration, almost worship, for the patron whose dirty work he does
without thinking of the results. He wears good clothes, but
he cannot look a gentleman in them ; he wears a good hat, but it is
of the pattern to which he has been accustomed. He is almost
intended for a Ion diable, and this is the only fault I find with Mr.
Chevalier's acting ; we should have had at least a suspicion of the
cloven foot in him. But he was almost too genial. His broken
French was excellent (as it should be, for M. Chevalier is a French-
man), and he contrived to light up the scenes in which he figured by
his quaint manner. Still it would have been better had a light,
instead of an eccentric, comedian been cast for the character. Miss
Alma Stanley did well as Esther de Seleny — who is only a fictitious
Countess. In reality she is a wealthy Jewess, ambitious, believing
that Astier is the man who, through her fortune, can raise her to the
position she aspires to, and what little of heart there is in her she
gives to him. She is not an estimable character, but handsome and
striking. Miss Kate Phillips's talents are thrown away on the part of
the foolish tearful Marechale de Seleny, who after all is an arrant
humbug, for while she weeps over the memory of her warrior
husband, she accepts time-serving, fortune-hunting little Chemineau^

2S4 THE THEATRE. [Nov. i, isao.

Mr. Bucklaw is earnest as Vedrine, a character that is superfluous ;
and Mr. Ben Webster shines most in the latter portion of his acting
as the foppish Count Adriani, another foolish character that could
well le spared. Those who filled the remaining minor parts were
equal to the occasion. It now comes to speaking of the two prin-
cipals. Miss Genevieve Ward fully embodied the nobler attributes
of the miserable wife of Paul Astier, and her scene with him where
ho intended poisoning her was highly wrought out ; where the
strength was wanting, was that she gave almost a maternal tone to her
affection for her sinful partner — it was chastened, enduring love
with scarcely one touch of that passion which one would imagine
should have inspired her persistent forgiveness of the insults heaped
upon her. Miss Ward's reading may have been a correct one, but it
did not tell so much with the audience as a more vivid rendering
would have done. Only praise could be bestowed on Mr. Alexan-
der's Paul Astier. Cold and heartless in the means to gain his end.
he could warm into the semblance of the most passionate lover or
cajole his humble victim with his honeyed words ; he could be stern
and relentless and yet tremble and turn coward at the thought of
the consequences his crime might bring upon him. In his death
scene he could endeavour to defy that fate which he had su per-
sistently through his life ignored, and in his last moments could
prove there was one soft spot in his black heart as he uttered his only
true words of love to Esther as he died in her arms. If good acting
can make a play a success, " The Struggle for Life " should succeed.
The mounting of the piece was superb, and yet in the very best
taste, the dresses of the ladies who figure as guests were made by
the most fashionable modistes, and as they were Indies who wore
them, and not the ordinary supers, they looked at home in them ;
and the male guests consisted of young gentlemen who wish to adopt
the stage as a profession, and are gaining confidence by " standing
on." Though personally I was much interested during the entire
evening, I could not but feel that the existence of " The Struggle
for Life" on the boards might not be a very prolonged one.

" SWEET LAVENDER."

Play in three acts, by A. \V. PINKKO.
Revived at Terry's Theatre, Monday, September 29, 1800.

ih'i'iinal Production. Itcrirn!.

Mr. Geoffrey Wedderbtun .. .. Mr. BRAXDON THOMAS Mr. W. H. VKKSDX.

Clemuiit Hale Mr. BKHXAKD GOULD. . .. Mr. II. KKKVKS SMITH.

Doctor Dclaney Mr. ALFRKD Bisnor.

Dick Phcnyl ' Mr. EDWARD TKRHY.. .

Horace Bream Mr. FREDERICK K KKI:.

Mr. Maw Mr. SANT MA TTHI;V, -.

Mr. Eulger Mr. T. C. VAT.KNTIXK.

Mr.? Gilliilian Miss M. A. VICTOR. . .

Minnie Miss MAUDE MILLKTT.

Ruth Kolt Miss CARLOTTA ADD-ON

Lavender Miss HOSE XORKI:\S.

Mr. JULIAN CROSS.
Mr. KD\VARD TKKUV.
Mr. HKXR\ DANA.
Mr. FRKD. W. IRISH.
Mr. Piuxci: MILLKK.

MiSS DOLORKS ])Hl MMOX1).

Mi>s MAJMK LINDKN.
Mrs. F. H. MACKI.IN.
.\li-~ Ki.iM'Ki: l.l^-llON.

" Sweet Lavender," one of the freshest and most enjoyable plays
ever written, proved such a success with the original ca"st that ap-
peared in it oa its first production (March 21, 1888), that I have
thought the names of those who then played would be welcome.
Of the story there is no occasion to speak ; "it was told in the May
number of THE THEATRE, 1888. Sad it is to record that the scent
in the revival is but faint compared with its original perfume. This
is not owing to any loss of attraction in Mr. Terry's rendering of
Dick Phenyl ; he is as genuine, as winning, and as droll as he has-

Nov. 1, 1890.J

OUR PLAY-BOX.

235

ever been, and Mr. W. H. Yerncm's masterly performance has strength-
ened the character he undertakes. Miss Elinore Leyshon is pleasant
as Lavender, but she is not the guileless, child-like creature that the
author pictures for us, and though Mrs. Macklin is womanly and at-
tractive as Ruth Rolt, there is a want of tenderness in her represen-
tation ; the actress gives one more the conception of a strong-minded
rather than a long-suffering, betrayed woman. Miss Marie Linden
has been seen to much greater advantage. She is too much of a
coquette, instead of a brave-hearted English girl, and her lover, Mr.
Dana, though he conscientiously portrays the typical American, is
not interesting. Mr. Reeves Smith can do good things, but he is too
phlegmatic and matter of fact. He throws no ardour into his love,
does not convey the idea of a young fellow who would risk all his
prospects in life for the sake of his sweetheart. Mr. Julian Cross
gives one the impression of being good-hearted, but not of being
a fashionable doctor. Miss Dolores Drummond, clever as she
generally is, does not touch Mrs. Gilfillian with a light enough hand,
and Bulger becomes but a common-place individual instead of an
amusing one with Mr. Prince Miller. And yet with all this, " Sweet
Lavender" is bound to afford some pleasure; but its delicacy of per-
fume is gone — it is as the pot-pourri of rose leaves to the rich sweet
fragrance of the fresh cut flower.

"THE SIXTH COMMANDMENT."

Romantic play, in five acts, written by ROBERT BUCHANAN.
First produced at the Shaftesbnry Theatre, Wednesday, October 8, 1890.

Prince Zositnoff
Arcadius Snaminski..
General Skobeloff
Fedor Ivanovitch
Alexis Alcxandrovitch
General Wolenski
Arthur Merrion . .

Moustoff

Kriloff Kriloffski . .
Petrovitch

Mr. HEIIBKHT WARIXC.

M. HARM'S.

Mr. IVAN WATSON.

Mr. LEWIS WALTER.

Mr. R. STOCKTON.

Mr. W. RUSSELL.

Mr. WILLIAM HERBERT.

Mr. M. BYRNKS.

Mr. (rEORGK SELDON.

Mr. G-. FAXK.

Landlord of Lodging
House
The Princess Orenbur
Sophia
Pulcheria Ivanovna .

Anna

| Mr. HERBERTS BASING.

^ Mrs. RICIIARDSON.
Miss MARION LKA.
Miss CO\VKN.
( Mrs. LANCASTKR-
) "WALLIS (Miss Wall is)
Miss MAUDE BJIENNAN.
Miss K. ROHIXS.
Mi«s 0. BKRNAND.
Miss J. ST. ANGK.

Catherine Petroska .
Liza
Katel
Marfa

In an " Author's Note " appearing on the programme, Mr.
Buchanan states that he has taken certain suggestions from
Dostoievsky's novel " Crime and Chastisement," but that he disclaims
any endeavour to dramatise the work. And this statement may be
thoroughly accepted, for though the main incidents, but slightly
altered, take place both in the novel and the play, yet under Mr.
Buchanan's treatment they are but such as have been used in many
a melodrama. In the novel Fedor commits a murder on two women,
partly to work out a theory of his own, and partly for the sake of
plunder ; in the play he strangles an old Jew, for having been
accessory to the ruin of the girl he loves. In the novel Sonia gives
herself to a life on the streets that she may save from starvation her
worthless father and hungry family ; in the play she is made the
unwilling victim of the lust of a Prince. The novel is a study —
curiously minute and searching — of the workings of the human
heart and brain, and sets forth that a woman may be but a very out-
cast in the eyes of the world and yet be as pure as snow in her
innermost self. The play makes almost an idol of a man who has
no ruler but his own strong will, which he enforces under the light
definition of caprice, and in the culprit all that is in any way
interesting is that, like the young minister in " Judah," from the

23G THE THEATRE. [Nov. l, 1890.

moment he commits the crime, although an unbeliever, he has no
rest, but hears for ever the voice of conscience ringing in his ears,
•and only obtains peace when he confesses and makes atonement
through the punishment meted out to him. This last character is
Fedor Ivanovitch. His sweetheart Liza is beguiled to Prince
ZosimofFs palace by Abramoff, who delivers to her a letter which he
knows will bring about her ruin. Fedor discovers this and in his
rage seizes the Jew by the throat and, without perhaps intending to
do so, strangles him. A prey to remorse, Fedor unwittingly gives
.Zosimoff the clue by which he can hunt out the murderer — he uses
the knowledge gained, to force Anna into a marriage with him ; he
brings her to an adjoining room to that which Liza occupies that Anna
may overhear her brother Fedor's confession to the young girl that
he wants to make his wife. Liza insists that, fallen as she is, she is
unfit for him ; he tries to prove that he is no better than she is by
confessing that he is a murderer. When Fedor learns that Anna
will sacrifice herself to a man that she abhors, to prevent him from
giving her brother up to justice, he publicly owns to the crime and
accepts the consequence in exile to Siberia. In a most improbable
manner the author brings all his principal characters to that remote
and inhospitable spot (even a young couple on their honeymoon
trip). Retributive justice overtakes the Prince. He has followed
Anna (to carry out his now shameful designs upon her) but finds
that by an '" order of the Czar " he is to be stripped of rank and
riches and be sent to the mines ; whilst Fedor is pardoned and
restored to society for having saved the governor Snaminski's life.
Liza is made happy in Fedor's repentance, for it is she who has first
pointed out to him that it was only by confession that he could
make his peace with Heaven ; and Anna is supposed to marry her
lover Alexis. Passing over such a glaring mistake as the rites
of the Greek Church being performed in Russia, of all places, over a
Jew, there was a fearful waste of words throughout the play, which
was prolonged to an inordinate length (later it took nearly one hour
less in performance through judicious excision), and the interest was
in a great measure lost. It is pleasant to pass from the short-
comings of the play to the excellence of the acting. Miss Wallis,
with rare self-denial in a manageress, did not take to herself the
best part, but as Anna increased her reputation by her power in
•depicting agony of mind, and tenderness and affection towards her
lover and brother. Miss E. Robins (who is more the heroine) was
very sympathetic as the betrayed Liza. The confession of outrage
inflicted on her was most delicately conveyed. Mr. Lewis Waller,
had a very trying part, as Fedor, and made a distinct advance by his
exhibition of remorse, and the workings of a troubled conscience.
Mr. Herbert Waring was almost grand in his villainy ; it was so
thoroughly consistent throughout, and was shown with such quiet
force. Miss MarionLea played the hoyden well, and brightened up
•the play a little, as did Mr. William Herbert as her lover, and M.
Marius as a police official. A good little bit of character acting was
that of Mr. Ivan Watson, as a deaf and decrepit general. Miss Maud
Brennan and Miss J. St. Ange, were also pleasant in their respective
characters. The play was splendidly mounted, and it was not Miss
Wallis's fault, or that of her company, that it was not accepted as a
.success.

Nov. 1, 1890.]

OUR PLAY-BOX.

23?

« CARMEN UP TO DATA."

Burlesque, in two act*, by GKO R. Sr.\is an 1 HKNUY PETTITT. Music by MKYKH LU'iv,.
First produced in London at the Gaiety Theatre, Saturday, October 4, 1890.

Miss GRACK Wr.xox.

Miss LKTTY Lixi>.

Miss FLO. HKXDKKSOX.

Miss K. RoiUXA.

Miss MIXXIK Ross,
f Miss MAIKJK MiLiuiKX.

Mr. 10. J. LOXXKX.

Mr. E. II. H.VSLKM.

Mr. HOKACK MILLS.

Mr. G. T. MiNsiri'LL.
Mr. ARTIIUH WILLIAMS.

Merimee's story in Bi/et's famous opera had already been made the
subject for burlesque three times before Messrs. Sims and Pettitfc took
it in hand, but in no case has the plot been more closely followed than
by these, the latest, collaborators. Taken altogether they have produced
an amusing work, but I am a little surprised that with such a bright

Carmen ..
Escamillo

Miss F. ST. .lonsr.
Miss JENNY D vwsov

Larranaga 3

Frasquita

Miss FLORKXCK LKVEV

Michaila

Mtea MARIA Jo JTBS.

Alphon/e
Juanita . .
Inez..

Mtu KATIE BABBY.

Miss MAI'DI-: WII,.MOT.

Hilalgos •'£

'»

Jo«e M

Xorah

Morales . .
Inttmidado
Purtngas

Miss liLANCHK MASSKY

Miss M.Vl'DK HllliSOX.

. Miss HIOTTV HAMEU.

Remendndo 3i
hlllius Pastia .. .. M
Cant. Znnisra . M

and genuinely comic actress in the title-n5Z<?, they did not afford her
greater opportunities for travestie. This said, there is but little other

238

THE THEATRE.

[Nov. 1, 1890.

fault to be found, for the book has many witty sayings, graceful lyrics,
and some positively awful puns. And after all, as a rule in modern
burlesque, but scant courtesy is paid to what the authors write. Those
who play the parts introduce what they like in working up the
characters, and often what originally consisted of but a few lines, de-
velops into quite a long role. If the beautiful dresses, an eccentric
if not elegant pas-de-quatre, a " Sequidellade Cuatro," a pas seul
supposed to represent the action of a bull fight, some very charming
ballads, and exquisite scenery had not sufficed to accomplish a success,
the song of the " Bogie Man," which is not Spanish at all, but

American-Irish, would draw all the town to the Gaiety. Mr. Lonnen
sings it with weird effect ; it is not in any way comic, it is almost pa-
thetic, and the effect of it is heightened by the " muted" chorus, the
half-lights thrown on the scene, and the effective grouping. Mr.
Lonnen follows the song by a peculiarly graceful sort of shadow
dance and fills the character of Jose comically though without striking
out into any thing very original. Miss Florence St. John does all that
the authors require of her. She is as sprightly as she is allowed to be

Nov. 1, 1890.J

OUR PLAY-BOX.

239

in accordance with the text, is an arrant little flirt, but then the
ballads which she has to sing are sentimental — and she sings them
with perfect taste and expression. Miss Jenny Dawson did not
improve on what was set down for her as Escamillo. Miss Violet
Cameron would have been better suited to the part. Mr. Arthur
Williams makes up as an elderly and rather obese Capt. Zuniga ; he is
droll in hismanner, which is always favourably received by the public,
and has no doubt by this time treated the character as he did that of
Lurcher, and considerably improved it. Miss Maria Jones's talents are
almost wasted, and Miss Letty Lind sings her own song, into which

she introduces some " farmyard " imitations, with much sweetness,
and dances very bewitchingly. Of course a crowd of handsome girls,
representing Spanish soldiers, smugglers, cigarette makers, and
gipsies, fill in the picture with bright contrasts and telling choruses.
Herr Meyer Lutz has done his share of the work well, his music is
decidedly Spanish in character, original and yet suggestive of and fre-
quently leading up to snatches of Bizet's melodies without plagiarising
them. The burlesque was stage managed by Mr. Thomas W. Charles,
who is an adept at his work. The St. John-Lonnen Company,
as they may now be distinguished, were enthusiastically welcomed
back to London after their travels, and they, the authors, the com-
poser, and Mr. George Edwardes, were all called before the curtain at
the close of the performance, so most of the audience was satisfied, I
presume.

240

THE THEATRE.

[Nov. 1, 1890.

"LA CIGALE."

Original Opera Comique, In three acts, written by MM. Cntvor an I Duiur, compose 1 by AUDRAX.

The English version written and composed by P. c. RURXAXO and IVAX CABTLIt.
Produced for the lir.-it time in England at the Lyric Theatre, Thursday, October 9, 1890.

Tamburina Miss BRAXARD.

Cecilia de Monti. . . . Miss .1. DEsnoRounn.
Fransoise Miss MAISKL Lo\ K.

Roslna

Mane eta

Leila

La Frivolini .. ..
Cimille Dubnrri
Gervaise Trulleboom
Catherine .

Miss F. liELVTLLK.

Mi-is Er,Lis JKKFRKYS.
Miss CII.VKLOTTE HOPE.
Miss M. ST. CYR.
Miss MAY Sixi I,.UR.

Miss .TCI, IK COL'TKCU.

Miss A. \K\VTOX.

Marton..

MissGKRAi.mxic UI,MAR.

Chevalier Franz de . . \
Bernheiiri j

William Mr. E. W. G.VRDKX.

Vincent Knapps. . . . Mr. MICHAEL. D\v VEIL
The Duke of Fayens- J Mr Enic L,nra.
uerg )

Cavalier Mr. FttAN'ois BAKXARD.

Curfew Watch .. .. Mr.Jonx PKACHEY.

Mendicant Mr. GEOIKIE MUDIK.

Mathew Vanderkoopen Mr. LIONEL Biiormi.

Charlotte ]tflM KXFIH CLRltSXT£.

Juliette Grisenach .. Ml« E. CAHUXGTOX.

Ali/.ia MNsfrU'vxxK.

Zitanella Miss LILLIK COM YXS.

Mr. Horace Sedger must be congratulated on the complete success
of the " opera comique " with which he inaugurated his management
of the most beautiful theatre in London. His productions at the
Prince of Wales's have ever been distinguished by their elegance
and the good taste displayed. " La Cigala " surpasses any of them
in the beauty of the dresses and the perfection of the scenery, and
the action of the play taking place in the environs of Bruges, the
picturesque Flemish costumes, and the gay doings at a " Kermesse,"
are most effectively introduced. The pretty fable of " La Cigale et
la Fourmi " has been followed and turned to good account by the
English librettist, only that he gives to it the required happy ending
for the heroine. Marton is one of two nieces of Matthew Vander-
koopen, gay, thoughtless, and longing to go on the stage ; her cousin
Charlotte, married to Williana, finds all her pleasure in rural
domesticity. The festivities at the farm attending the wedding of
the last two are at their height when the Chevalier Franz de Bern-
heim arrives with the Duchess of Fayensberg, with whom he is
carrying on a strong flirtation. They hear the voice of the Duke,
who has brought out La Frivolini and a number of the Bruges opera,
company to a pic-nic. The Duchess hides herself in a summer-house,
and insists, in order that the Duke's suspicions may be disarmed,
that her cavalier shall make love to the first girl he meets. This is
Marton, who presently expresses her desire to become an opera-
singer. The Duke says that this may be managed through his.
influence if her capabilities are sufficiently good, and so she sings the
song, " One among Three," which, though not the most musicianly,
is the most taking number in the entire score, and gained a treble
encore. Marton, a year later, is the pnma donna, spending freely
all she earns, her rustic lover Vincent is her secretary, and her uncle
her manager. She has become deeply attached to the Chevalier, but.
as he is forced through the jealously of the Duchess to pay the latter
considerable attention, Marton is led to believe that he is faithless,
and so at a grand ball given at the Ducal Palace, where she is to-
entertain the guests, she, after the manner of Adrienne Lecouvreur,
sings, exposing in her song the supposed intrigue of the Duchess,,
and, exhausted by the emotion, faints away. Whilst unconscious, a.
transparency shows to her her old home, and she herself ragged and
forsaken after dissipating all her wealth, sinking at the portals of
the home in which she was once so happy. But when she recovers,
and the ball-room is seen again, her peace is restored, for the Duchess
assures Marton that she is truly loved by the Chevalier, who throws,
himself at her feet, the Duchess silencing anything that the Duke-

Nov. i, 1890.] MUSICAL SILHOUETTES. 241

may have to say about his wife's indiscretion by reminding him of
his own peccadilloes with La Frivolini. Audran's music pleased
•every one, it was so bright and melodious, and the considerable
portion of the opera, for which Mr. Ivan Caryll is responsible,
gave equal satisfaction. Mr. Burnand's book is witty and poetic,
.and the lyrics contributed by Mr. Gilbert a Becket are graceful.
Miss Geraldine Ulmar sang charmingly throughout, and surprised
•everyone by her talents as an actress. Miss Effie Clements' very
sweet voice delighted all, the only regre't being that she had not
more numbers allotted to her. Chevalier Scovel was very nervous
in his opening, but after his first song he much improved, and
.before the end of the evening had established himself as a
'-favourite. Mr. Eric Lewis was admirable as the foppish, finicking
Duke. Mr. Michael Dwyer sang with great taste and expression ;
and Mr. Lionel Brough, though last not by any means least, was
droll and very amusing. Miss Lila Clay and her ladies' orchestra,
which performed a very charming gavotte written by their con-
ductress, must not be forgotten. " La Cigale " was a complete
success, and Mr. Charles Harris, under whose stage direction it was
.produced, was with the principals, authors, composers, and Mr.
ledger, applauded to the echo for the result.

CECIL HOWARD.

Musical Silhouettes.

No. 7.— THE INFANT PRODIGY.

HE Infant Prodigy is one of those mixed blessings for
which we are indebted to America, more or less. Juve-
nility from time immemorial, of course, has stood up,
in the presence of its adoring parents and friends and
relations, to " speak a piece " or " sing that charming
little ballad about Twinkle, twinkle, little star." But
'Until quite recent years we were not irritated by the infant vocalist,
•pestered by the youthful pianist, and enraged by the child reciter on
the public platform.

When the Prodigy is confined to its own most immediate circle of
.admiring acquaintance, no one is the worse or the better for it. It
is when it is pushed upon us in every programme, and thrust on our
endurance at every entertainment, that it begins to get something of
an annoyance. When little Tottie, the infant prima donna, stands
oip, a child of ten, with a forced and unnatural voice, and sings, in a

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI. o

42 THE THEATRE. [Nov. 1, 1890.,

very squeaky falsetto, its one and only song — the acme of many
weary hours1 training — it is a delight to the audience, naturally.
Not a woman in it but thinks of her own Polly, and whispers her
neighbour of her certainty that that precocious and unpleasant child
could " do it " much better. Indeed, Polly is accustomed to " doing
it" at home, and gets lavish adulation from her relations, who, it is
to be presumed, prefer that pert, forward, and conceited child to the
real thing : than which, when it is real, nothing is sweeter under
Heaven.

From "speaking a piece "—detestable phraseology !— in private, it-
is but a step to reciting in public. The Infant Prodigy's relations-
are delighted at the prospect, being one and all assured there never
was so clever a child. So sooner or later those who are not wor-
shippers of the family idol are compelled to sit out the ghastly
infliction as well as they can, devoutly praying, probably, all the
time for the days when children were children, and not undersized,
men and women.

Perhaps it may be intellectual progress— it is an age of progress,.
we are told — that develops thus earh' the talent or the genius of the
Infant Prodigy. But even granting this, a forced plant is a sickly
one, and many a home nursery is now a hotbed of juvenile pre-
cocity, most of which is waiting its opportunity to become known
to the world, be it the world around it or that outside.

The artistic merits of such a ballad as " Twinkle, twinkle, little
star" are, at first sight, not particularly perceptible. If a sane
person got up and sang it, it would sound ridiculous. But let any
infant from five to twelve, with a weak, quavering voice, proceeding
from somewhere between the teeth and the epigastrium, stand up,
either at home or on a platform, and sing the effusion, accompanied
by a maternal prompter every other line, it will be received with
a chorus of acclamation, as if it were a poem of highest merit set
to divine melody.

As for the Pianist, we all know what he is. Is there — can there
be — any true artistic feeling in the child of ten, who sits down and
reels off classical music by the yard, music that would task the
memory and capability of a grown man ? If there be art in it at
all, it is false art, a sham and an hypocrisy. The child may be a
genius, but it is all too unnatural a genius for common sense to fall
down and worship, let fools and fanatics do as they may.

Because, the younger the Infant the more do gaping men and
silly women run after it. If a pianist four years of age could be
brought out by some superhuman agency, would not the British
public rush in crowds to hear him ? There is not a pennyworth of
art in it : nothing but idolatry, and the idol is the Glorified Infant.

Those who ought to see and understand the folly of precocity are
often those who foster it. The schoolmistress, who at the end of
every term brings forward her pet pupil at her " vacation concert."
for instance. The pet pupil of ten years old steps on the plat form.
to the envy of all the others' parents and the intense satisfaction of

Nov. 1, 1890.] OUR MUSICAL-BOX. 243

her own, with the conceit and self-consciousness of a woman of
thirty; she speaks her piece with a lovely monotony of voice and
gesture, or sings her song in an expressionless voice and with an
expressionless face, or she rattles off her fireworks — oh, how that
piece has been strummed at all the term through ! — without a
shadow of musical feeling or a ghost of intelligent expression. Oh !
worshippers of the Glorified Infant, do you ever think, and wonder,
where the pretty children, with their quaint ways and their inno-
cence, have vanished ? They have nearly all departed from among
us, and have left us nothing but that hateful apology for annoyance,
that intensely uninteresting and most irritating nuisance to sensible
men and women, the Infant Prodigy. The world is robbed of her
little ones, and it is the reign and the era of the Glorified Infant.

SKMIBUEVE.

©uv

Some little while ago the inclusion of the piano in the curriculum of the
School Board was lengthily discussed, and is still being discussed. Sensi-
ble people protest and not without reason. They realise, perhaps, the
horrors to come. But so great is the craze for training the children of the
people to be ladies and gentlemen, whether the clay -material take kindly to the
process or not, that the mentors of the coming generation listen to nothing
but the desires of their souls to spend money. It seems to me that the piano-
forte is very well in its place, which is certainly not in the Board School. How
about the many — qualified or unqualified is not for me to say — who earn a
straightened living by teaching at a remuneration in proportion to the pocket
of the poor ? They are closely concerned in this question ; yet they are not
thought of — have not, to my knowledge, been spoken of. Another point of view
is this, Are there not enough musicians in our suburbs and towns ? It is the
fashion for Jane and Tommy to learn to play ; consequently they practise and
strum all day long, until their unlucky neighbours' ears are deafened, and their
minds are distracted. They have to learn, because it is " the thing ; " whether
they have the talent for music is quite out of the question. Day is already
made horrible and night hideous by the eternal pianoforte, beside, around
and opposite. Ten-guinea "schoolroom models" utter their tin-kettle tones
wherever you go ; our " warranted " at fifteen pounds cash, has apparently a
warrant for the disturbance of the peace wherever and whenever its possessor
pleases. Half-a-guinea a month purchases a " fine-toned instrument, with all
the latest impro\ements, check action," &c., &c., and spreads around it for the
term of its natural life discord and annoyance enough to make one wish the
pianoforte had never been invented. Doleful hymns all day Sunday ; scales,
exercises, and school pieces, arrangements of " Home, Sweet Home " — that surely
are played in a satirical spirit — every week-day. The present is bad enough ; if
the School Board teach its gutterbrats music for nothing, what will it be in the
future ? Seriously, the greatest good to the greatest number is an excellent
axiom ; but does it apply in this case ? Is the piano a necessity to a boy or girl

244 THE THEATRE. [Nov. i, 1890.

who is to be taught to make his or her way in the world ? Plainly, the Educa-
tion Act was not meant to go so far, and nothing has occurred, since its passing,
to justify the folly of such a proceeding. The iclass it was meant to reach
was that ignorant of the three R's — and its intention was to teach them those
primary requirements. As for anything further, if the pupil had the voice and
the aptitude to learn more, ae or she will find out soon enough a way to do so —
even if it be music, lessons in which can be obtained on low enough terms,
goodness knows. But of Music, we have enough to spare, thanks to the cheap
foreign piano. Some peace from this everlasting jangle would be welcome.
A pianoforte should be a luxury, or if not that, at least, not looked upon as a
necessity. Many an English girl can squall a ballad who cannot cook or sew.
Music is an art ; and not all the School Boards in the world can alter it, or make
it an educational requirement.

How many "teachers of music," at five shillings a quarters' lessons, are there
in London now starving? Too many to think of with an equable conscience.
The School Board will only add to the number, because the girls or boys taught
by them will, in time to come, turn professional teachers — ladies and gentlemen,
God help them ! — and — starve too.

When is the composer of " Les Cloches " going to give us something as
good ? It is an unpleasant truth, but nothing that has come from his gifted
pen since has been worthy of comparison with that work, though, perhaps,
" Rip Van Winkle " was a long way superior to either of its followers.
" Captain Therese " is only a string of reminiscences ; a collection of ancient
musical bricks set up on a foundation which has been that of more operas than
one can remember. Even this could be forgiven were only there something to
recollect. There is not ; the orchestration is graceful — that is all ; the whole
opera is one to cause sorrow, regret, wonder. Granted that the composer is
hampered with a plot that does not exist and a fundamental idea that is as aged
as the gamut itself. But this does not destroy the charm of other works that
shall be nameless. Plot on the opera-stage is about the last thing but one that
is thought about, probability being the absolute last. The regret comes in
when sympathetic artists like Mr. Hayden Coffin, Mr. Tapley, comical Mr.
Monkhouse, and dry Mr. Ashley are compelled to play unsympathetic parts and
sing uninteresting music. The part of the heroine is in the hands of Miss
Attalie Claire, who is the owner of an excellent voice which would be more
acceptable if one could hear what she sings. But this is, perhaps, not thought
necessary. I was not stricken with wonderment at her acting. Miss Broughton
was absent (for the first time for three years) the night I saw the opera ; but
her place was filled by Miss Florence Darley, who certainly played the part un-
commonly well. As a whole, " Captain Therese " is nothing like so good as
" Marjorie," which was not itself, in my opinion, a very great work either. I
am afraid " Captain Therese " will not live in the memory like the inimitable
" Cloches " did, has done, and will. The dresses and staging are
superb, thanks to Mr. Charles Harris and Mr. Horace Sedger. But not all the
staging in the world can take the place of the wanting charm : the music that
might be there and isn't.

Since, however, Miss Attalie Claire has decided to return to grand opera,
in consequence of which Miss Violet Cameron is going to play her part in " Cap-
tain Therese." If anything can make the opera a success, Miss Cameron might ;
but this remains to be seen. A change even more desirable still is that of 5liss
Guilia Warwick for Miss Fenton in " The Black Rover," as Isidora. I fear
Miss Warwick will have a thankless task, speaking musically. " The Black
Rover " is now preceded by an operetta entitled " The Crusader and the Craven,"
music by that caustic critic and clever musician, Mr. Percy Reeve, in which
Miss Chapuy, Mr. Le Hay, and Mr. Hogarth are concerned.

In making an opera of " The Black Rover," Mr. Luscombe Searelle has com-
pletely spoilt a magnificent melodrama ! Who wants music with such a story ?
It is a drag upon it ; it is like harnessing a cart-horse and a racer to the same
vehicle. Were it not for Mr. Ludwig, whose voice is a revelation, this feeling

Nov. l, 1S90.J OUR MUSICAL-BOX. 245

would be stronger still. Comic opera it is not. There is nothing funny in the
story ; what there is ha« been dragged in, neck and crop, and is based as an idea
old as opera itself. Say, then, it is dramatic opera ; where is the dramatic
music, and what do Mr. Le Hay and Mr. Charles Collette in this gallery?
The first interrogation is simply answered : Nowhere. There is plenty of
music ; but the dramatic force is conspicuous by its absence. Did Mr.
Luscombe Searelle think he was going to head an operatic revolution, upset the
old order, and bring about a new one, with the music of " The Black Rover " ?
I hope he did not. As for the artists, Hike Miss Effie Chapuy, rather ; though
the songs she sang had no more to do with the story than the man in the moon.
Miss Blanche Fenton is, without question, the most self-conscious actress I
ever saw ; she never once forgot herself in her part, which had some splendid
melodramic opportunities ; added to this, her vocalisation was most faulty. Mr.
Hogarth had nothing to do or sing, which was to be regretted ; Mr. Shiel Barry
was a Gaspardian old man ; and the tenor and hero — was painfully bad. I see
that Mr. Philips-Tomes now plays the part. But Mr. Le Hay and Mr.
Collette were fish out of water, and I felt very sorry for them. Mr.
Roydon Erlynne was dramatic as the rebellious slave. Chorus, stage-effects,
scenery, and accessories could not be better. But whether the public will like
their melodramas set to commonplace music is open to doubt.1 Even Mr. Searelle
must himself have had a doubt on the point or he would not have introduced
the low-comedy comic-opera element into " The Black Rover."

It is a long while since London has seen a comic opera so deserving the name
and so magnificently staged as " La Cigale " at the Lyric. To begin with the
music, it is music ; not commonplace tune or imitation melodrama. The hand
of M. Audran is audible all through it ; and the composer of " Olivette " and
" La Mascotte " has excelled himself in grace of melody and felicity of orches-
tration. There is not a bar in the entire score that is not bearable over and
over again. Where Mr. Ivan Caryll's co-operation comes in, is not easily
detected (though most of the first-night critics seemed to be very cognoscenti"),
but it is no disrespect to that admirable chorus-master and conductor that the
work of the French writer is at once recognisable. If some of our English and
other composers want to know how and what to write, let them go and hear " La
Cigale." I am not easy to please with opera comique ; but the music charmed
and delighted me, as it will everyone who hears it. As for the staging, how
Mr. Charles Harris must have re veiled in such a chance ! Each " set "is superb ;
the dresses and scenery are perfection. The title-part gives Miss Geraldine
Ulmar opportunities that show how clever an artiste she is, and I question if any
other could better interpret so arduous a rcle — made more arduous still by the
ridiculous clamour of well-dressed fanatics for preposterous encores. Of course
Chevalier Scovel looks his part, and sings it magnificently. But for the rest of
the characters — voila tout. No one else has anything to do, which is perhaps the
one blot on the performance, all in all as near perfection as the most carping
critic could desire, or the most exacting playgoer look for. I shall have more
to say about " La Cigale " later on ; but there is little doubt about its success.
London has put up with a good deal of rubbish styled " comic opera" ; but now,
thanks to Mr. Horace Sedger, it has the real thing to show.

I advise Miss Ulmar, if she wishes to keep her voice, to decline all encore^
that is, decline to repeat her songs. "We do not expect Mr. Willard or Mr.
Beerbohm Tree to repeat a strong scene, however greatly we admire it. The
principle is not only a nuisance, but an unreasonable nuisance, and one which
firm and decided action would soon put down. Some ignorami seem to look
upon the human voice as a machine.

The musical world has been recruiting in the comic-opera stage of late. Mr.
Ben Davies, formerly at the Lyric, sung at the first "Monday Pop.," and Mr.
Alec March, of the Avenue and Lyric, &c., created a somewhat mixed impression
at Norwich Festival.

The first "Monday Pop." took place on October 20, Sir Charles and Lady Halle"
receiving an enthusiastic welcome home.

246 THE THEATRE. [Nov. 1, 1890.

Madame Patey has met with the greatest success in Australia at her com-
mencing concert at Sydney.

Signer Lago's autumn season of Italian Opera at Covent Garden commenced
on October 18 with Verdi's " AYda."

The music of the new Gaiety burlesque in "Carmen" is by M. Meyer
Lutz, thank goodness ! Don't let us have any more " little peaches " and
" Razzle-Dazzles," please, Mr. George Edwardes. Keep those for the music-
halls, or send them back to their native land, declined with thanks.

Senor Sarasate's first concert took place on October 18, when the customary
enthusiasm prevailed, St. James's Hall being crowded. Ihe wonderful
violinist was assisted by Mr. W. G. Cusin's orchestra. A second " Sarasater)
concert takes place on November 3.

Mr. George Grossmith's first recital on October 20 drew a large and fashion-
able audience to St. James's Hall.

CLTFTOX BINGHAM.

©uv amateurs'

You, my gentle and considerate readers, are men and women of the world —
healthy, wealthy, and wise. Ajid therefore you know all about babies. No
one who is not " virtuous, &c.," can possibly take an interest in these diminu-
tive sharers (with cats, dogs, and other pets) of our nursery language and
patronising affection. And, per contra, no one to whom their charms appeal
can possibly, help being all the good things named. Since, therefore, it is
necessary you should rise from the perusal of this column as from a gum-chew-
ing soiree or a feast off the sweet caramel, G. and C. R., here is to the tickling
of your palate with an assurance that you are virtuous, &c., and by unavoidable
inference learned on the subject of babies. With me you have often stood on
holy ground, and been inducted into the mysteries of baby- worship. You know
that there comes a time when the nurse or the mother (I prefer the nurse, the
responsibility seems less) entrusts you with the wee but priceless uninsured
cargo of humanity. Your left hand is seized as though a professor of palmistry
were hungering for his fee. It is plumped half-way down the infant's back.
Your right is guided beneath the pulpy shapeless masses by compliment termed
legs — and "you're happy now you've got it." Every eye in the room, and
there are generally a good many, is fixed upon you ; and in awful tones you
are warned that if you move a muscle, it — the baby, not the muscle — will fall
to pieces. I remind you of the experiences, because some amateurs are like
babies. They must be handled, oh so gingerly, or the blood will fly to their
little heads, and, dear, dear, how they will cry. Pat them, and what a hullaba-
loo. They, perhaps like the rest of us — always excepting you, G. and C. R. —
must be hourly soothed with the warm syrup of flattery, and dandled and
coaxed and cooed to, unless we want to see them in a naughty ickle tantums.
And this the modern reviewer, saving only the modernest of the clique — Robert

-N'ov. 1, 1890.] OUR AMATEURS' PLAY-BOX 247

Buchanan, to wit — least of all desires. Anything for peace ; that is, peace with
honour. We have no wish to mop Great Queen Street or Lincoln's Inn Fields,
wielded by the itching palm of a blue-blooded " juvenile " or a " legitimate
heavy." On the contrary, we want to be thought kindly and charitable. So
we put on our rose-coloured spectacles as often as we can, without endangering
our eyesight, and, in the very torrent and tempest of our critical wrath, ac-
quire and beget a temperance that gives it the unruffled smoothness of a seem-
ing indulgent admiration.

But really, you ladies and gentlemen who enrol yourselves under the banner
•of Garrick, the spectacles must be laid aside. To borrow the language of our
friend Captain Beresford, " you are, you know you are, don't you know." The
art world is shaken to its foundations, and chaos is almost come again, because
a tenor refused to shave his upper lip for a powder-and-patch comic opera. It
is a crime, a heinous crime, a highly-ridiculous yet mortal sin, no doubt ; but
•can it weigh against yours ? No. That was the vanity of the body, but yours
is the vanity of the mind. He, poor fellow, for all we know, might be another
•Samson. Cut his hair, and he was cooked, dished, done for. His face might
be that of a heaven-kissed Mercury, when bearded like the pard. Treat it to
the edge of an oyster-shell (raise him to the dignity of a second Hypatia, in
fact) or apply the new-fangled steel, and he might stand revealed a Silenus or
-a Vulcan. His first plea might be loss of beauty, his second loss of charm —
either would serve ; and together they form an impregnable barrier. In addi-
tion, he could do little hurt to the piece he was cast for. No one but the
authors and the manager care what happens to a comic opera. But you, you
have laid violent hands upon a masterpiece, and that's quite another thing.
You might have done what you liked with the giants of these days. They know
how to look after themselves. Besides, we have them — and the poor — always
with us, and of course they don't interest us. But Sheridan, whom from child-
hood we have been taught to reverence, whose name we lisped at our mother's
knee! an outrage upon him is an outrage upon history! Think of that. It
ought to curdle your blood to read of it, even if you don't believe it. If only
you had known your words, or learned your positions. But perhaps you did
not know positions were expected of you. Amateurs employ such curious
methods. But if only you had come prepared in some way. Accustomed to
your clothes and your wigs, and above playing with your swords as though you
were so many witches on so many broomsticks. But there, of what use is
scolding. Everything must have a beginning, the Garrick A.D.C. among the
newest comers. To give them good advice will be better than cursing. They
should put someone at their head who does know something. No company, in
war or in acting, is of much use without a leader. Even the Lyceum would
fall like a pack of cards if the master hand were withdrawn. Then, with a good
•chief, if they work hard, and obey his orders, and put away all little tempta-
tions to think themselves cleverer than Irving and Willard, and Hare and Tree,
they need not be afraid to invite me again. But not to Sheridan. No, let them
try Sims. It's the same initial, but there's a difference inside.

From blame and judgment to pity ! Like the judges of whom descriptive
reporters — not, let us hope, drawing upon their imagination for their facts — tell
us that they sum up in strong sentences, each one of which carries the
wretched prisoner's heart an inch nearer the bottom of the ocean of despair.
That the black cap is fitted with unfaltering hand and sentence pronounced
with firm voice. And that then, when the duty that is demanded of them is done,
"his lordship gave evidence of being under the influence of uncontrollable
emotion." It is just so with his highness who sits down below and keeps watch
o'er the life of poor Punch. He, too, has — to put the case in a nutshell — more
often than not to condense his opinions under the stress of emotion ; but he is
more consistent than his brother of the bench. For if he be moved he lets it
count one to the prisoner, and he has the courage, moreover, to let everyone
know as much. And here is a case in point. Nothing like having an apt illus-
tration to avoid misconception. Three weeks ago there was what our American
cousins would call a " two nights' stand " at Stafford. A compact little party of
well-known amateurs raided from London and stuck-up the town. Oh, for charity,
you bet. All schemed out beforehand, just lovely. Top families mad to help

248 THE THEATRE. [Nov. l, 1390^

them, and everything right as rain, fit for them to ride in and paint the place
red. And did they ? Not much. Why ? Well, that's the legend ; and if
you'll do as the Romans did and lend me your ears, I'll expound ; for it's here
that the pity comes in and spoils my wrath at their failing. They were good
enough to do the trick. A better little troop never started out. But whether-
it's a bank or the county families at theatricals in a concert hall, you can't handle
the plunder unless your pals work it all properly for you. Now there's some-
thing that ought to be quoted here about good intentions, only somebody might
object to the strength of the language. The intentions were excellent, of course,
in getting them a big town hall ; but intentions are apt to run away with people
who organise this sort of thing without technical knowledge to serve as a bridle.
To put " Caste " and " The Parvenu," little plays wanting a little theatre and
little effects, into a huge barn of a place, was suicidal. Half the fine dialogue
was lost to those sitting beyond the first few rows, and what the plot of either
play could have seemed to any who came fresh to the comedies, passes specula-
tion. The audience were to be pitied, for they had room to feel their own
atmosphere about them: always a fatal thing. They should be packed like
herrings. Then each spark of interest or amusement will circulate through the
whole crowd, and not fizzle out through coming into contact with the cold dignity
of a self-conscious individual. But more to be pitied were the actors. They
worked like Trojans, but they were doomed by Fate (i.e., the cheerless hall and'
the cheerless audience) and nothing could save them.

There has not been showier work, or more thorough, done in the provinces
this vacation ; and London ought to have the benefit of this preliminary run.
When Sam and Polly are matched, " Caste " is about complete. The stronger
the Esther and George, the stronger the play ; but they may be as bad as barn-
stormers (and this precious hall nearly compelled them to be) and the " putty 'f
lovers and dear old Eccles will pull them through. Mrs. Walkes and Mr. Lavies
are among the best low comedy lovers amateurs can produce. They are actors
of many moods, and luckily were in good spirits and not afraid to give way to
them, and they let the parts carry them whithersoever they listed. That is a
fairly safe plan to adopt when the work is straightforward, and there was little
to find fault with from the tea in act i, to the tea in act iii. The "serious
spoons " are never all your fancy pictures them, unless an Amy Roselle or a
Florence Gerard is sharing those natural scenes with a Forbes-Robertson or a
Conway. But Mrs. Charles Sim does nothing that has not merit of some kind,
and in Esther she gets so near the note that brings a lump in the throat and
dims the eye, that want of fervour may be forgiven. Mr. Ashby-Darby is young
for D'Alroy. It is not that he does not look old enough for a husband, or that
he cannot make love prettily, or that he is not the preux chevalier in look and
bearing. All this he manages well, but the last act depends entirely on George's
dignity, and it must be the dignity of a self-reliant man, and that Mr. Darby
has not mastered. Mr. Walkes repeats with great effect the impersonation of
Mr. S. B. Bancroft without which no gentleman's Hawtree is complete. He
does for the part all that can be done, which is not saying much, for the good
scenes are nil and the incidents few. Mr. Trollope's Eccles was the biggest
success of the visit. It was studied, it was natural, it satisfied the critic, and it
satisfied the boy in the gallery : and that is the paradox of acting. It is not
wise to be subtle at Drury Lane, and elaborate bits of business were hardly
noticeable in the Stafford wilderness ; but plenty of broad effects were there,
too, and Eccles ought to be first in Mr. Trollope's repertory of character parts.
" The Parvenu " came off with better luck but worse effect. There was less to
miss, but then less was got over the footlights. Mrs. Leston, from the Avenue
Theatre, and Mr. Walkes were capital as Lady Pettigrew and Sir Fulke, both
performances being vigorous and pointed to an unusual degree. Mr. Trollope
was good but not alert enough for Ledger, and Mr. Lavies walked through
Charlie with ease ; Mrs. Walkes was bright and pert as Peggy, and Mrs. Sim
and Mr. Darby surprised everybody as Gwendolen and Claud. They are thank-
less parts to act, honeyed and cloying, but the make-believe was worthy of pro-
fessionals, and their earnestness would not be denied. For about the first time
on record, most likely, these were the heroes of the play.

"Why don't you write your own criticisms ; Davy always did," said Mrs. Gar-
rick to Kean ; and there was good sense in the remark. Nobody can possibly

Nov. 1, 1890.] OUR AMATEURS' PLAY-BOX. 249-

fathom your intentions like yourself, and therefore nobody but yourself can da
you justice. But if it's well to arrange for your criticisms, how infinitely better
to look after the play as well. Write your own pieces, and you are sure to-
please one person at any rate. Adopt somebody else's, and you are pretty safe
to satisfy none. You know exactly what you can do, or rather what you think
you can do — the same thing in your eyes — what you look best in, what senti-
ments sound true, and which light is the more becoming, the gas of the evening
or the limelight of noon. It was a fine stroke of policy, then, on the part of the
Hon. Mrs. Alistair Hay and the Hon. Marie Hay, to rummage out the pieces in
which they were to be principals in Dupplin Castle. Odd little bits of other
plays cropped up now and again. Curious memories were brought to light by
a turn of the key in the lock at the unwhitting command of these disciples of
Mrs. Holford, who, for the instruction of those not posted in matters theatrical
I say it, is the only lady aristocrat of the time who has written a play worthy
to be remembered. But, taken as the work of novices, The Prince of Colonna
and The Lady Grizel were full of promise and showed a liberal hand for the
bestowal of plums in situation and dialogue. The first is a story of Venice.
Mr. Hadow, a burgher of that city, has wealth, ambition, and one fair daughter,
and no more, the which he loved passing well. She, Lucia by name, is not
above looking in the glass and translating into words its dumb confessions of her
beauty. And as, like Beatrice, she sits and sighs " Heigho" for a lover, a gallant
appears, in very squalid garb. He is a prince who has dissembled ; anyone can
tell that, for his manners have the repose which stamps the caste of the Colonna,
and in his flashing eye the pride of race is seated. Lucia loves him ; but her
papa, when he comes in, does not. He has the soul of a shop keeper, and
values the book of mankind by its binding. He sees only an artisan, and, not
being a Socialist or an advanced thinker of any school, he objects to the peasant-
born for a son-in-law. Very like the Deschappelles and the horticultural Claude.
The Prince stands in danger of being kicked out by the guard, but after making
sure that Lucia loves him, for himself alone, it is a case of " further disguise
is useless, I am Don Ca3sar de Bazan." " And a gentle consort made he, And
her gentle mind was such, That she grew a noble lady, And the people loved
her much : " from the Lord of Burleigh. But Lucia did not long that he should
turn a village painter, at least we are not told so, and was overjoyed to become
a Princess. A very sweet and pretty little tala, acted with grace and delicate
feeling by the authoresses (Mrs. Hay playing the Prince) who looked the usual
" pictures by an old master," and wore their beautiful costumes with an ease and
elegance many an actress might have envied.

The Lady Grizel has no such comedy element. It is deep, dark, gruesome
tragedy. A Caledonian version of Romeo and Juliet! What Helen's babies would
term "bluggy." Earl Malcolm of Inverness, making good his escape after a
rout during the troubles of 1745, meets Lord Ralph Nevill, the brother of his
lady-love. Romeo and Tybalt, being on different sides, have a short set to, and
the fiery Tybalt falls. Romeo pursues his flight to Juliet's chamber, where he
hides behind the arras. She, poor fluttered dove, knows of the battle and is
wildly anxious for her Montague, who forthwith steps out and is clasped to her
tender bosom. She would kill him with too much cherishing, but he has
sterner business in hand, and is about to start on his confession when a page
brings her tidings that her brother Tybalt's sonl has fled, and at the bidding of
her Romeo's sword. Then Shakespeare and these clever daughters of Scotia
part company. He of Stratford thought a woman's passion set at nought the
ties of kindred, faith, and country. If she gave her heart, she gave it all.
Father, mother, friends, comfort, duty, pride, everything, went into the opposite
scale, and one hour of real love outweighed all and made it kick the beam. They
of Dupplin think otherwise. A sister's affection they fancy will for the moment
put to flight the bride's. It is a false notion, and spoils the artistic value of their
work. But it brings on their catastrophe, and the means they will argue are
justified by the end. Poor Romeo is exiled from that loving heart, and the lips
which cried his virtues heap scorn and hatred on his head. The tramp of armed
men is heard in the corridors. He thinks he is beset by Capulets. " He
cannot meet his ladye's unforgiving eyes, and cannot live without her love . . .

£50 THE THEATRE. [Xov. 1, 1890-

so dies." A dagger in his heart, and he crawls to her feet to kiss out his love
with the last faint breath. At that the Lady Grizel's love revives. From what
seemed ashes, in a moment a consuming flame leaps up, and nothing but death
can satiate it. So Juliet the wavering, Juliet the faithless, Juliet who cared so
little for her lord that she could stab his heart with words, is sorry when she
sees what she's done, and makes the fatal dagger do double service now that
remorse and regret are useless. And on her suicide the curtain falls. Tragedy
is generally out of place on the amateur s*age. but if there were many actors as
full of fire as these, it need not be banished with such rigour. As the young
Earl, Mrs. Hay was quite impressive, and her fellow-author made an earnest
•Grizel. Mr. Hadow was Lord Ralph, removed from the scene quite early in
the action ; and as a boy page, Miss Gladys Hadow looked very pretty and
acted with becoming spirit. There is a wide field for slight and sketchy, yet
ambitious, plays like these, giving actors scope for costume, a thing dear to the
amateur ; and if the authors would publish them, they would .soon be heard of
again.

Nobody reads Leigh Hunt nowadays, so I shall be safe in giving my readers
a few lines of his. Not with the intent of borrowing the trick played off by
Launcelot Bargiss on his Hypatia and pretending they are my own, for who that
is sane dare challenge the detective genius of the P.Jf.tr. Plagiarist Commis-
sioner. But " safe" in the sense that there will be freshness and entertainment
in them, almost as much indeed as there would be in an equal quantity of my
own prose, and without the labour io me of composition ! Thus then they run.
"I never think of poor Leander's fate, And how he swam, and how his bride
sat late, And watched the dreadful dawning of the light, But as I would of two
that died last night. So might they row have lived, and so have died ; The
story's heart, to me, still beats against its side." I never see Tom Robertson's
masterpiece without thinking of this scrap of simple verse. Let Caste be acted
only decently, and the story's heart, to all, still beats against its side. We have
seen it a hundred times, maybe. Speaking for myself, I vow I could play
prompter from the stalls without a book. We have informed ourselves, with
emphasis, that the so-and-so'd thing is played out. But once we are settled
down to it again, and George and Esther have to part, and Sam and Polly are
bravely keeping that little house in Stangate above water, that lump in the
throat will come. And when the curtain falls we inaudibly consign the gasman
to other regions for turning up the lights before we have had time to wipe our
eyes and assume an air of well bred indifference. Sir Kenneth Kemp could not
have chosen a more human play for his Norwich week, or one more certain to
please everybody. The country favourites he gathers around him lend their
work a personal interest, and with a theme so true there is nothing wanting to
the success of his annual experiment. The acting of Caste- has now become a
very relative affair. It is either better than such a revival or worse than the
other. You can say nothing very positive, for in every mind there is a standard,
and your words will be understood as applying to that. The Norwich amateurs
were not on a level with the Criterion actors of a year ago, but they were more
than a match for several country companies I have seen. On the one hand they
could not show the clear depths of pathos nor let themselves be carried whither-
soever the spirit of comedy listeth. On the other, there was no possibility of
mistaking the heroes for any thing but military men, and the heroines for women
whom " society" would out of necessity refuse to recognise. What was lost in
stage effectiveness was gained in natural manner and appearance. Mr. Leo
Trevor, a comedian of marked versatility, was perhaps the most finished of all
as Eccles, whose chronic drunkenness had served as a fine basis for an
original study of great merit. Mr. Brandram threw energy and spirit into
his reading of Sam, which belonged to the perky, quick-witted Hare school
rather than the sullen and moody Brookfield. Mr. Bourke and Miss Muriel
Wylford played with startling earnestness as the hardly used lovers, the
chief defect being a tendency to drawing room naturalism. With more
breadth and less realistic colouring, they would be excellent. Captain
Horton was a dignified Hawtree, with a sly undercurrent of caustic
humour ; Mrs. Washington spoke the Marquizzy's tiresome lines better than
anyone I ever heard, Mrs. Stirling and Miss Le Thii're excepted ; and

.2fov. 1, 1890.] OUR AMATEURS' PLAY-BOX. 251

Kathleen Heury, • forgetful of the laws of class and that repose which
stamps the caste of Vere de Vere, identified herself with Polly the light-
hearted "extra-lady," and with pretty looks and merry laughs and teasing
ways flooded the stage with sunshine. Caste was played to crowded houses
•on September lii and 14, and on the loth an adaptation by Mr. Arthur
Waugh from Oliver Twist, set to Music by Mr. Claud Nugent, and called
Corney Courted ; or, the Beadle's Bride, was produced with great success, the
•melodious numbers being frequently encored.

What with parsons at the play in town, and Noncon Boanerges pounding the pul-
pit in denunciation of them, their creed, and their charity, the Church is in a fail-
way to shake hands with the Stage. Those whom the former will not lead the
latter will drive towards tolerance ; and once bigotry's knocked on the head, logic
arid common sense come uppermost in life, ana the first thing seen to be an
.absurd inconsistency is war between any two great powers. Just to give Mr.
Jones, Mr. Willard, and Mr. Spurgeon a little help, Owlesbury Church last
month accepted the aid of the Longwood amateurs for some bells it wanted,
and .1 Happy Pair and Creatures of Impulse, were played to an overflowing
.audience. The effects were a little cloudy perhaps. Many of the
characters looked like old friends seen through a blurring mist. You
know how a haze will confuse you. This nose is surely more pro-
nounced than when i we used to sit together chatting and smoking far into
the night. And that walk ! can that be dear old So-and-so's ? The mist will
•serve the purpose of a magnifying glass and throw into unnatural relief the
most peculiar features of your object. So with these Longwood actors. But
despite innumerable faults, and sins against their authors no dramatist would
ever forgive, they managed to hold the mirror up to nature so that their
audience could see the reflection, and seeing it declare their hearty approbation.
I shall therefore refuse to publish their iniquities, since crime we are told is
purely a matter of longitude and latitude, and what we in London think
artistic suicide or murder may, for aught I know, be counted virtue within
the sound of Owlesbury bells. Miss Cowper Coles and the Hon. Douglas Car-
negie got happily through the bickerings of that wondrously witty young
married couple, Edwin and Angelina Honeyton. The Earl of Northesk entered
with democratic fervour into the humours of Sergeant Kloogue, of whom he
gave a really diverting picture. Mr. Carnegie was a burly farmer. Lady
Helen Lacey made a winsome niece to the eccentric and lively old lady of Miss
Coles. Mr. Lionel Bethel flung down the glove to Mr. Adonis Dixey and gave
us an amusing burlesque of Mr. Irving ; and Mrs. Butler played the landlady
with the unfailing severity of the race.

252 THE THEATRE. jSov. I, 1890.

WE have been shouting too soon. In sympathy with Mr. Willard, we rejoiced
in the cordial reception given to his experimental clerical matinee of " Judah."
But, like Mr. Willard, we had reckoned without our host. We had assumed
that the infinitesimal proportion of ecclesiastical objections to the enterprising
manager's play represented substantially the opposition to it. Like him, we
had rashly failed to take into account the possibilities of sulky silence, which
would bide its time to make an attack upon the new departure. The first to
fulminate upon the novel abomination was Mr. Spurgeon, who waxed abusively
eloquent on the subject. The irreverent scoff at Mr. Spurgeon and recall a
time when, as they assert, he celebrated the birth of twin Spurgeons by taking a
party to a theatre or a circus, or some other " workshop of the devil." It is
very easy to say, as we are strongly tempted to do, " Oh, it doesn't matter, it is
only Mr. Spurgeon." It is not only Mr. Spurgeon. The Newington Causeway
prelate has a following, and that not a small one. Many, no doubt, go to hear
him largely, if not entirely, out of curiosity, but many also follow him week
after week and hang upon his lips for utterances that are invested with a
spurious dignity of inspiration. The occasion is an odd one. He is advising an
obscure theological school in the ethics of preaching. But before going into
that, [let us hear what the teacher of preachers has to say about the stage-
" The Christian Church of the present day," he says, " has played the harlot
beyond the Church in any age. There are no amusements," he adds, " too
vile for her. Her pastors have filled a theatre of late, and have set their mark
by their clamours on the labours of play actors. To this we had come at last
to which we never came before — no, not in Home's darkest hour. And, if you
do not love Christ enough to be indignant about it, the Lord have mercy upon
you."

We will discuss neither Mr. Spurgeon's opinion of the modern stage nor his
comparison with Rome (does he mean the Empire, by-the-way, or his old
bugbear, the Church ?), for his knowledge of both is about on a par. Indeed,.
on other occasions he might boastfully confess that both might be represented
by a negative quantity. Perhaps we ought to assume that he knows what he
is talking about, but if he were tackled, he would probably consider hiia»elf in-
sulted (it is an old joke) if anyone dared suppose that he ever entered a theatre,
or had any knowledge " of the labours of play-actors." Mr. Spurgeon does not,
however, stand alone, and perhaps one of the aptist illustrations of the weak-
nesses of his position is to be found in a curious article in the Baptist Freeman,
a journal which, in our ignorance, we believe not to have the pontifical sanction
of the great Dissenting Cardinal. Speaking of the " Judah " matinee it says : —
" A somewhat ingenious advertisement, as it appeared to us, was lately devised
by the manager of a London theatre. A number of parsons were invited to
attend the performance of a certain play. Its moral was, according to report,
that it does not pay to tell a lie. Whether or not there was a slight tap for
those who have been misled by Tract No. 90 we cannot say."

We will leave on one side, as we can afford to do, the sneer at the " some-
what ingenious advertisement," "a number of parsons," and the spite of which the
late Miss Miggs, of Barnaby Rudge fame, might have been proud ; but we will
come to " its moral, according to report," that " it does not pay to tell a lie."
We assume that the Baptist Freeman, being run as a religious paper, pours its
profits, whatever they may be, into religious laps and is edited by religious
persons. Might we go further and hope that the report that brought that
moral to the religious editorial ears was one duly certified from religious
sources ? The question is pertinent and important, because none but the editor

Nov. l, 1390.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 253

of a religious paper, relying on the report of a thing he had not seen, would ever
draw such a conclusion as is here set forth. That " it does not pay to tell a
lie " is a shamelessly polemical way of putting it, to say the least ; and if one
studies "Judah" with any but a jaundiced Baptist eye, it is clear that the
moral is rather that if Judah Llewellyn and Vashti Dethic had lowered them-
selves to the standard of Baptist journalists their joint lie would have paid
them remarkably well.

Perhaps we may best measure the Baptist journalist by what follows. " None
of our staff had an invitation," he says. If this is so, there was clearly ait error
on Mr. Willard's part, and in a measure he may be held remotely responsible
for the curious mental wanderings of the Baptist journalist. The next we may
believe, if we like — "or would have accapted it had one come." Why refuse
it ? He wanted the information. If that was only to be obtained at the risk of
damnation, why expose the inaccurate one to the peril ? Or perhaps the mis-
informer was considered the most likely subject for sacrifice. It is clear that
there was a dearth of information. " Nor can we learn, after making some
inquiries, that any minister connected with the Baptist Union was present.
We should certainly have passed the matter by without notice, but we have
received several inquiries, and learn that it has been made the occasion of more
unproven and uncharitable scandal. Brethren who did not go surely need not
advertise their superior unwordliness until they have proof positive that others
did. It is not the holiest spirit to enter the pulpit with the profession, ' God, I
thank Thee I am not as other men are,' until there be some clear evidence as to
what ' other men are.' "

So far the motive of the criticism is pretty clear, without the added evidence
of the following passage : — " We must not forget that clergymen of a certain
section of the Established Church make no secret of their interest in the
theatre. In London there are those Avho openly accompany their choirs in
attending a play. We expect that, were the truth known, it was gentlemen of
this class who were invited and were present. There is a Church and State
Guild. The fact is, theatrical people altogether mistake our abstinence from
the theatre. It is not through sourness of spirit, nor is it because of ignorance
of the character of the modern drama. And certainly it is not from any
unwillingness to enjoy innocent pleasure. It is because we believe the tendency
of the stage is unhealthy. It is antagonistic to true religion. Its moral influ-
ence is sometimes very bad."

But how do these gentlemen know ? How do they get over their " ignorance
of the ch-iracter of the modern drama " ? Not, surely, from personal attend-
ance. Report, whence gained is not disclosed, is the only authority, and how
poor a source it is may be best judged from what follows. The Baptist
Freeman then proceeds to deal with " The Deacon." After getting the plot in
a more or less distorted fashion from " a theatrical paper," the writer premises
that " we know something of the deacons of particular Baptist churches. They
are, as a rule, large-hearted, broad-thoughted men, and would never act in a
fashion like this," i.e., as in the play, and goes on to draw the following extra-
ordinary inferences : — " What can be the lesson of such a play ? The noble
thing in life is to court an actress, the ignoble to live an unworldly Christian
life. A singularly worthy class of men are held up to scorn. The theatre is
all that is glorious, and the chapel all that is contemptible. Our young people
are not likely to be encouraged to live noble lives by attending a play like
this."

Can any greater perversity be conceived than this ? Not one word is said in
the play about the nobility of courting an actress, nor, it is scarcely necessary
to say, about the ignoble thing being to lead an unworldly Christian life. In
somewhat crude and sketchy fashion the ignorant prejudice against actors and
actresses is satirised with a completely good-humoured hand. There is no trace
of contemptuous feeling shown or evoked against the deacon himself, for
whom, in ifact, our sympathies are asked, since his hatred of all connected with
the stage is accounted for by the pathetic story of his daughter's disappearance.

254 THE THEATRE. [Nov. i, 1890.

It is absolutely untrue that a singularly worthy class of men are held up to
scorn. The laughter is without a sting in it for the most sensitive hide. The
sudden conversion of the worthy sausage-maker is far too sudden and too-
unconvincing to be taken seriously, and if anyone is laughed at it is the-
sausage-maker and local magnate, the man who will compel his hands in
future to attend the theatre as he has previously forced them to abstain fromc
it, and not an earnestly religious man of any denomination.

These misrepresentations are so absurd and conceived in so petty a spirit.,
that the evil they are capable of would be insignificant if they were read by
people who had the means of comparing them with the facts as shown by the actual
performances. But that is not the case. The people who read the Freeman
are already predisposed to regard the theatre with horror, and who can wonder
if [statements, such as we have quoted, are accepted as Gospel, and operate
to confirm the already too bitter, unreasoning hatred ? It may be that there are
people so constituted that the theatre will work moral evil in them, if they do-
not avoid its temptations ; but that is no justification for a libellous distortion
of known facts for the purpose, more or less honestly undertaken, of rousing-
religious and often fanatical prejudice.

In the same article there is a further illustration of this unfairly hostile
spirit. Here the writer pays THE THEATRE the honour of quoting it. u Then
we open THE THEATRE and extract the story of another play (' The Book-
maker.') Xow, in seeking the welfare of the people at the present hour, we
find that gambling is a terrible curse, and that we are called upon to make the
most resolute efforts to check it. What is the theatre doing to help to stop the
abomination ? The magazine article thus concludes : ' The Bookmaker ' is
a healthy play, well written, and should achieve success wherever acted.' But
we do not hesitate to express our opinion that it is calculated to give young
men an admiration for gambling and the ' bookmaker.' Here, again, the
theatre is in clear opposition to the Church. We are not professing to state all
our grounds for abstention from the modern theatre. We content ourselves
by stating that these two plays, which have just appeared, and have been
picked out almost at random, are in definite, vigorous antagonism to the spirit
of the gospel of Jesus Christ."

Poor "Bookmaker" ! What has he done to deserve this? What will Mr.
Piggott think of this savage assault upon the morality of his harmless little
play ? But what, above all, are we to think of the moral fibre of the young men
in whom the spectacle of a successful bookmaker by his advice enabling a young
lady to win some money excites such an " admiration for gambling and the
bookmaker " as to lead them into temptation ? If there are such young people
then the theatre is no place for them, nor is there any place for them among
men and women fairly responsible for their actions. Anyone whom " The
Bookmaker " would lure from the path of rectitude should be early placed
under the kindly but strict supervision of friends lest he fare worse in the less
sympathetic but highly necessary confinement of one of Her Majesty's gaols
or lunatic asylums. We do not propose to follow the writer into its assertion
as to the definite, vigorous antagonism to the spirit of the gospel of Jesus
Christ. We should probably differ too Avidely as to what constitutes the neces-
sary elements of that spirit, and so drift into a religious controversy quite
beyond the scope of this magazine. We will content ourselves with asking the
Freeman if it thinks that the moral tone of " The Bookmaker >: would have
been elevated if, instead of representing the principal character as a fairly good
and absolutely human creature, the author had invested him with the orthodox
infernal attributes of horns, hoofs, pitchfork, and tail, and if he believes that in
such a case a single young person, whether of the weakest or the strongest
moral constitution, would have been in the slightest degree turned against the
evils of gambling if he had the gambling spirit in him.

Miss Mary Collette (whose portrait appears in this month's issued, has already
given evidence that she will support the reputation of the dramatic family from
which she springs. The young actress's grandparents were Mr. and Mrs.

"THE THEATRE," NOVEMBER, 1890.

Photographed by Barraurt, London.

MISS MHRY COLLETTE.

" Hang sorrow I Care will kill a cat,
And therefore let's be merry."

—THOMAS CAREW.

EQLINQTON & Co., PUBLISHERS,
LONDON.

THE THEATRE," NOVEMBER, 1890.

Photographed by Barraud, London.

MR. CMS. WYNDMRM-& MISS MffRY MOORE,

IN "STILL WATERS RUN DEEP."

" shall we wear these glories for a day ?

Or shall they last and we rejoice in them ? "

"R1CH4RD III," ACT IV., SCENE II.

EQLINQTON & Co.. PUBLISHERS,
LONDON.

.Nov. 1, isoo.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 255

Wilton, of Mr. Chute's Bristol stock company ; her aunt, the celebrated Marie-
Wilton (Mrs. Bancroft) ; her mother, Blanche, was associated with all the
successes of the little theatre in Tottenham Street, and her father is Charles
Collette, the well-known actor. Miss Collette's "absolute first appearance"
was as Wilkins Micawber, junior, at the Theatre Royal, Southampton, January
20, 1883, when she was of course quite a child. In 1888, Mr. and Mrs. Kendal
engaged the young aspirant as an understudy at the St. James's, and she
travelled with them during their autumn tour, and made her really first
appearance as an actress at the Theatre Royal, Hull, September 10, 1888, as.
Suzanne in " The Ironmaster," during her first week played Lucy Franklin
in " A Scrap of Paper," and Felicity Gunnion in " The Squire," and remained
with the Kendals till December 1, having gained favourable notice in all the
principal towns they visited. From January '21 to March 2.3, 1889, Miss Collette
was a member of Mrs. Oscar Beringer's Opera Comique Company, creating the
part of Rosie in " Tares," and playing Matilda Jane in " A Regular Fix." On
February 12 she created Mildred Selwyn in Sydney Grundy's play "A Fool's
Paradise," at the Gaiety, and achieved a success, which was repeated on April 4,
as Nell in Alec Nelson's "The Landlady." On May 31, Miss Collette was the
original Winifred, at the Prince of Wales's, in Mr. Sapte's " Marah," re-named
" The Convict's Wife." October 10 saw her playing Nellie in " The Colonel,''
at the Comedy Theatre, under Miss Henrietta Lindley's management, and after
touring with the play reappeared in London as Maria in " The School for
Scandal," December 12, on the occasion of Miss Annie Rose's matinee at the
Vaudeville. This performance induced Mr. Thomas Thome to engage her for
a long term, commencing January 11, 1890, when she again played Maria. On Feb-
ruary 9, Miss Collette made a most decided hit as Jenny in the first production
of "Clarissa," and filled the part throughout the run, as she did also of Dolly
Primrose in " Miss Tomboy " ApriP25, 1890, she createdEthelEvergreen (a great
success) in John Aylmer's comedy " Changes," and May 22, 1890, Kitty in Mrs.
Bancroft's play, " A Riverside Story." Besides this record of two years' good work,
Miss Collette has appeared in numerous entertainments in the cause of charity,
and as a tour deforce recited "Oh, Monsieur ! " in French at one of her father's
matinees given at the Prince of Wales', May 30, 1889, and did so with as pure
an accent as a Frenchwoman's. Miss Collette was a favourite pupil of the late
John Maclean, learned music and the piano under Miss Fanny Davies and
Matilde Wurm, and is still studying singing under Signer Fiari, of the R.A.M.,
who expresses the highest opinion of her capabilities. The young actress has
an intense love for her profession, and in it she is certain to make her mark.

" Still Waters Run Deep," in which Miss Mary Moore and Mr. Charles
Wyndham are now appearing, gives us most acceptable subjects for one of our
photographs. There is no necessity at present to again give a record of either
actor or actress ; the versatile powers of .the one and the beauty and sympathetic
acting of the other have made for them a world-wide reputation.

Mr. Alec Nelson's comedietta " Madcap," produced for the first time at the
Comedy on the evening of Friday, October 17, was. if a little wanting in
originality, pleasing, and touched the right chord ; save that-he made his heroine
transform herself into a street arab, and climb down by the ivy from an up-
stairs window, which turned her into a little too much of a tomboy, the
story is very simple. It is merely that Daphne has been brought up by Mrs.
Barton whose son Jack has for a tutor one John Read. Though ^participating
in all Jack's games, and with a strong partiality for racing, cricket, lawn tennis,
&c., Daphne has a true heart in her little bosom, and prefers the more staid
tutor to the volatile Jack, who proposes, but is refused in a very pretty little
scene. The tutor says that he must leave, but Daphne is sufficiently clever to
lead him on to an avowal whilst he is announcing his intention. This would
have been very charming had it not been spoilt to a certain extent by Daphne's
having only a moment before appeared as a poor boy, she having put on this
dress which was intended to be worn in some coming private theatricals. Miss
Rhoda Larkin played Daphne naively and with very great charm. She con-
trived to give one the idea of a madcap, but yet of a gentlewoman at the same
time. Mr. P. S. Champion was fresh and natural as the youthful Jack Barton,
but Mr. G. Kennedy was too staid as the tutor Jonh Read Miss Helen Lambert

256 THE THEATRE. [Nov. i, 1890.

was a pleasant Mrs. Barton. The audience appeared pleased with the little
piece, gave it a good reception, and called for the author. " Madcap " preceded
-'Nerves" which continues to attract, thanks to the excellence of the acting of
Messrs. Hawtrey and Edward Righton and Mesdames Sophie Larkin, Lottie
Venne, and Lydia Cowell. Owing to the illness of Mr. Gilbert Farquhar, Mr.
H. Kemble has resumed the part of Buxom Brittle, and Miss Vane Featherston
strengthens the cast by her most capable rendering of Violet Armytage,
originally played by Miss Maud Millett.

" His Last Chance," played on Monday, October 13. at the Gaiety, is the
work of Herbert Harraden, to which Ethel Harraden has contributed some
pretty music The little musical comedietta was well interpreted by Miss Loie
Fuller who sang nicely, and by Mr. Minshull, the lady having to entice a very
bashful lover into making a proposal.

The "Playgoers' Club " had a treat on Tuesday evening, October 7, when W.
Davenport Adams, one of our most observant critics, chatted with them — for
we will not call it lectured to the members — on the drama of his recollection
since the year 1868. Wisely, perhaps, he did not tell them so much of what
has been going on in London — for it is easy now-a-days for those who take an
interest in the stage, and the doings thereon, to obtain information as to every-
thing that has happened during the past twenty-six years — but picked out the
plums in the same way that in his two pleasant little works " Byways " and
" Rambles in Bookland," he takes us off the beaten track of London into the
pleasant sidepaths of the provinces (for we suppose we can look upon Edin-
burgh and Glasgow in dramatic doings as merely byways compared with the
great Roman road of London). And so he gave us little bits of information as
to Phelps, Amy Sedgwick, Julia Matthews, Adelaide Neilson, Kate Saville, and
Miss Glyn in their early days, and of the parts in which they appeared in the
modern Athens. Told us something of Celeste, Helen Faucit, and of the Hay-
market company ; touched upon Buckstone and his nattmess of attire ; recorded
the parts in which Wilson Barrett and Miss Heath shone, made a passing refer-
ence to Schneider ; paid a well-deserved tribute to Maplesou, and the admirable
combination of vocalists who gave such excellent performances at cheap prices ;
told us how great Mackintosh and Charles Groves used to be in pantomine ; and
reminded us how H. J. Loveday, now Mr. Irving's right hand, once led the
orchestra at the Royal. He referred to Florence St. John, then known as
Florence Leslie, and the naivete of her histrionic efforts when she first appeared
as a member of the pantomine company at the Gaiety in Edinburgh ; and then
going on to Glasgow he gave us some interesting casts of plays there, and what
Fanny Brough, Laura Linden, and E. W. Garden did, and how Rose Leclercq
and Florence Terry were the heroines in " Broken Hearts," and what a loss to
comedy was the death of Frederick Marshall. He touched on Henry Hamilton
as Caleb Deecie in " Two Roses," long before he had become a dramatic author,
praised Craven Robertson and his two sisters, and paid a well deserved tribute
to Richard Younge's capabilities as a comedian ; and so he referred to George
Alexander and the excellent comic songs he used to sing as quite a boy, and
how he used to make up so well ; and spoke of Salvini and Irving's charming
performance of Charles I, and how he ( W. D. A's) eloge was kindly set down to
his having partaken of a chicken and champagne supper. He also reminded us of
Phyllis Glover, and of how Rutland Barrington supported Mrs. Howard Paul in
her entertainment, and of interviews with Charles Mathews ; and of Mrs.
Stirling's performance of Lady Teazle when she was sixty years of age ; and
how that when Mrs. Bernard Beere went to Glasgow to play juvenile lead in old
comedy, under the fegis of Mrs. Chippendale, she was so amateurish that no one
would have imagined that she would ever have played " La Tosca," and he was
even able to record almost a failure of Ellen Terry in the part of "Frou-Frou,"
and hinted that Richard Mansfield, the now character actor and tragedian, once
played one of Gros?mith's parts in Gilbert and Sullivan opera, and expressed
his wish that Mrs. Kendal in " All for Her," Miss Wallis as Isabella in " Measure
for Measure/' and Mrs. Langtry as Galatea could now be seen in London.

We have been able to give but the merest outline of the many interesting
little memories that were recalled. We must only add that which Davenport

Nov. l, 1890.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 257

Adams said as to himself and the work of the critic and the mission of the
•drama. He owned himself to be an enthusiast, that he loved the play, and that
he considered the first " mission " of the drama was to entertain. If with that
could be combined instruction and moral elevation, so much the better, though
.he of course does not for a moment support anything that is course, low, or im-
pure, and he also gave us the spirit in which to record " first nights " ; and it
would be well if all critics were animated by the same spirit — that of kindliness
towards manager, author, and actor, bearing in mind that a few words written by
a man whose liver, perhaps, is out of order, or whose work is distasteful to him,
,may exercise a life long evil influence over the career of those whom he passes
under survey — his recorded words may mean to them either obscurity and
poverty, or good repute and competence. Mr. B. W. Findon was in the chair.
The Playgoers mustered in great force, and held an animated debate after-
wards, winding up with a cordial and well-deserved vote of thanks to their
• entertainer for the absorbing facts he had set before them. For those who
are interested in the matter, it may be well to mention that a verbatim report
will be found in the Stage newspaper of October 10, 1890.

The American rights of that charming little comedy of Mr. Fred Romer's,
"April Showers," has been purchased by Mr. Palmer, for Madison Square
Theatre, New York, where it will be shortly produced.

Saturday evening, September 19, saw the 200th performance of " A Pair of
.Spectacles," which was celebrated by the return of Mr. John Hare after his
holiday, to take up the part of Benjamin Goldfinch. The piece went with re-
newed zest and appears likely to continue its prosperous run. During the short
absence of Miss Kate Horke in October, her part was played by Miss Laura
Hanson.

The fresh attraction during the past month at St. George's Hall has been Mr.
•Corney Grain's new sketch called " Seaside Mania." It is one of the brightest
that this popular entertainer has given us, passing in review and cleverly satir-
ising everyday characters. The songs " I Took a Holiday in the Bosom of my
.Family," a very droll effusion on " Sky Signs," and a Scotch song were amongst
>the best numbers. Misses Fanny Holland and Kate Tully, Messrs. Alfred
Reed, Avalon Collard, and J. L. Mackay are very amusing in " Carnival Time,"
by Malcolm Watson and Corney Grain, which continues to be an attraction.

*• " The Black Rover " has been considerably improved since its first perf orm-

.ance. Mr. Charles Collette's part has been written up by himself ; and the
clever comedian has considerably brightened the third act. Mr. Sinclair Dunn

.replaced Mr. Mancini for a time, and Miss Giulia Warwick on the evening of
the 18th appeared as Isidora with manifest advantage. " The Crusader and
the Craven," with an amusing libretto by Mr. W. Allison, and some bright and
taking music by Mr. Percy Reeve has strengthened the programme, effectively

• rendered as it has been by Miss Effie Chapuy as Dame Alice, Mr. William
Hogarth as the Crusader iSir Rupert, and Mr. John Le Hay as the Minstrel

.Blondel.

Mr. Beerbohm Tree and his company re-appeared at the Haymarket on
•October 5th after a most successful, tour in the provinces. The interrupted
• run of "A Village Priest" was resumed, and Mr. Grundy's play was again most
favourably received. Miss Julia Neilson for a few nights appeared as Margaret,
and played the part with great tenderness. She was also seen to much advan-
•tage in W. S. Gilbert's " Comedy and Tragedy," as Clarice, with Mr. Nutcombe
Gould as the Due D'Orleans, Mr. F. Terry as D'Aulnay, Mr. Charles Allan as
Doctor Choquart, and Mr. Leith as the Abbe Dubois. Mr. Carl Ambrusler's
selection of new pieces with which he returned from abroad afforded a great
-treat to musical amateurs.

" Sweet Nancy " was revived at the Royalty Theatre under the management
• of Miss Harriett Jay on October G. The changes in the cast consisted in
Mr. Yorke Stephens as Sir Roger Tempest, which he played very well, his only

258 THE THEATRE. [Nov. i, ism.

fault being that he was a little too juvenile. Mr. G-arthorne was but a stolid
conventional Frank Musgrave, Miss McNulty was a very fascinating Mrs^
Huntly. The third act has been considerably amended. " Pepper's Diary" by
Mr. Arthur Morris, which was the lever de r/denn was an amusing trifle, taken
from the French, and excellently played by Messrs. Hendrie and H. V.
Esmond and Miss McNulty.

The Court Theatre re-opened on October 11 with Mr. Pinero's four act
farce the ''Cabinet Minister," with but two important changes in the cast*
Miss Carlotta Leclercq appearing as the Dowager Countess of Drumdurris, and
Mr. Frank Rodney as Valentine White : both were thoroughly efficient. The
play went with a laugh from start to finish.

Mr. E. S. Willard took leave of London audiences on the evening of Sep-
tember 27, appearing as Cyrus Blenkarn in the second act of " The Middleman ''
and the Welsh Minister in " Judah," with Miss Winifred Emery as Vashti
Dethic and Mr. E. W. Gardiner as Juxon Prall. Mr. Willard was greeted
almost with affection. The little speech he made was graceful and grateful,
and at its close the audience expressed their wishes for his speedy return.

" Still Waters Run Deep," which was such a success in the early part of the
year 1888, was revived at the Criterion on October 13. Mrs. Bernard Beere,
happily recovered from her serious illness, was once more able to appear as Mrs.
Sternhold, a character which she has considerably altered from the original
reading, and which she may certainly be considered to have improved. Mr.
Wyndham \yas again excellent as John Mildmay, and Miss Mary Moore a very
sweet Mrs. Mildmay. Mr. Blakeley resumed with much unction the character of
Potter, Mr. S. Valentine was Dunbilk, and Mr. F. Atherley clever as Langford.
The new Captain Hawksley was Mr. Arthur Elwood, who adopted an excellent
reading, making of the adventurer a thorough gentleman in outward appearance
and manner. He was cool and incisive, but could be tigerish enough when
occasion arose. " Dearest Mamma " was also played, in which Mr. W. Blakeley
was a very amusing Browser, E. Maurice a thoroughly cynical Neltle Croker.
Miss M. A. Victor genuinely comic as the meddling Mrs. Breezley Fizzle, and
Miss E. Terriss delightful as Edith Clinton.

A special dramatic performance of " The School for Scandal," ' under the
direction of Mr. Edward Hastings, was given at the Crystal Palace on Thursday
afternoon, October 16. Should Mr. Beerbohm Tree contemplate producing
the play at the Hayrnarket he will have to alter very considerably his reading
of Sir Peter Teazle to make it acceptable to the London public, for he makes
the old beau a man of seventy at least, querulous, senile, and lacking that dis-
tinction which would persuade a young woman to marry him. Mrs. Tree's
Lady Teazle was a graceful performance. The Charles Surface of Mr. Terry
was a little too foppish, and scarcely robust enough, and Mr. Lewis Waller was
too genial as Joseph. The Sir Benjamin Backbite of Mr. Eric Lewis, the Sir
Oliver Surface of Mr. H. Kemble, the Moses of Mr. Edward Righton, and the
Trip of Mr. Charles Brookfield were all excellent. Miss Ettie Williams played
Maria very sweetly.

Mr. Clement Scott has very kindly consented to act as Chairman to »
committee which is organising a benefit for the widow of the late Charles Du
Val, on November 19, at the Shaftesbury Theatre, the use of which has very
generously been given by Mr . Lancaster, the proprietor. The case is a most
deserving one, and already many liberal offers of assistance have been made, so
that the programme should prove an attractive one.

Mr. Edward Compton informs us that at the termination of the Compton
Comedy Company's present tour (during which they complete ten years' work
with the old comedies), it is his intention to play in London for a time, com-
mencing operations about a year hence, i.e., in November, 181H. Mr. Compton
will not depend on the old plays, as heretofore, when he comes to town, but will
rely entirely upon new ones, one of which, by a celebrated author, he will pro-
duce in the provinces about January next.

Nov. 1, 1890.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOA'. 259

It has transpired that Mr. Arthur Goddard intends calling the work that he
has for some time been engaged upon respecting the contemporary stage,
and which is about to be published by Messrs. Dean and Son, "Players of
the Period." It will include anecdotal, biographical, and critical monographs,
of Messrs. Irving, Wilson Barrett, Beerbohm Tree, Bancroft, Willard, and
fifteen otheractors of the day. The work will contain photographs of the sub-
jects, and numerous character portraits by Messrs. F. Barnard, J. Bernard
Partridge, Town-tend, Pilotel, and other well-known artists.

The autumn Exhibition of the 19th Century Art Society opened to the
public on Monday, the 2(3th October, at the Conduit Street Galleries.

In our October issue, in Mr. W. Davenport Adams' article on "E. S.
Willard/' at page 1(32, line 1), for Asa Trenchard read Sir E:ln:ard Trenchard.

New plays produced anl important revivals in London, from September 20,
1890, to October 16, 1890:— '

(Reci-oul* (ire marked thus'- ).

Sept. 22° <; Venus," burlesque, in three acts, by William Yardley. Edward

Rose and Augustus Harris, music by John Crook. Grand.
„ 22 " The Follies of the Day," realistic drama, in four acts, by H. P.

Grattan and J. Eldi-ed. Standard.
„ 23 " The Black Rover," melodramatic opera, in three acts, written and

composed by Luscombe Searelle. Globe.
,, 25 " The Struggle for Life," four act drama, adapted from Alphonse-

Daudet's La Lutts pom- In Vie, by Robert Buchanan and Fred

Horner. Avenue.
„ 27 " The Whirlwind," four act comedy, by Sydney Rosenfeld (for

Grand.
Oct. 4 " Carmen up to Data," two act burlesque, written by G. R. Sims and

Henry Pettitt, music by Meyer Lutz (first time in London).

Gaiety.
„ 6° " Sweet Nancy," comedy, in three acts, by Robert Buchanan,

Royalty.

,, 6 "Pepper's Diary," comedietta, by Arthur Morris. Royalty.
,, 6° " A Village Priest," by Sydney Grundy. Haymarket.
„ 7 " The Crusader and the Craven," mediaeval operetta, words by W.

Allison, music by Percy Reeve. Globe.
,, 8 " The Sixth Commandment," romantic play, in five acts, by Robert

Buchanan. Shaftesbury.
,, 9 " La Cigale," original opera comique, in three acts, written by MM.

Chivot and Duru, composed by Audran. English version written

and composed by F. C. Burnand and Ivan Caryll. Lyric.
„ 11° " The Cabinet Minister," farce, in four acts, by A. W.Pinero. Court.
„ 13* " Still Waters Run Deep," comedy, in three acts, by Tom Taylor.

Criterion.
,, 13 " His Last Chance," comedietta, in one act, by Herbert Harraden,

music by Ethel Harraden. Gaiety.
17 " Madcap," comedietta, in one act, by Alec Nelson. Comedy.

In the Provinces, from September 18, 1890, to October 16, 1890.

Sept. 22 " The Gamekeeper's Wife," one act " fore piece," by Mrs. Hodgson

and Archibald Hodgson. Prince of Wales's, Southampton.
„ 22 " Carmen up to Data," burlesque, in two acts, by George R. Sims

and Henry Pettitt, music by Meyer Lutz. Shakespeare, Liverpool.
,, 22 "Unreal Riches," original play, in one act, by Cecil Raleigh.

Theatre Royal, Reading.
,, 22 " The Junior Partner," three-act farcical comedy, by Thomas

Naden. T.R., Windsor.
„ 2;) " The Accuser," drama, in three acts, by Richard Lee. T.R.,

Margate.

260 THE THEATRE. [Nov. l, 1890.

Sept. 29 •' Acting the Law,'' melodrama, in five acts, by Don Glover. T.R.,

Brentford.
„ 30 " Black Diamonds ; or, Lights and Shadows of Pit Life," realistic

drama, in five acts, by K. Fenlori Mackay and Louis S. Denbigh,

(for copyright purposes). Alexandra, Southend.

Oct. 2 " May and December,' one-act play, by Wynn Miller. Amphi-
theatre, Ramsgate.
„ 3 ''Surprises ; or, A Day at Coney Island," musical comedy, in throe

acts, by Clarence Burnette. T.ll , Workington.
,. 3 " Men of Metal," original drama, in four acts, by C. A. Clarke and

Hugh R. Silver. T.R., Barnsley.
„ 6 ''Blanche Farreau,'' military drama, in four acts, adapted by

William Calvert from Charles Gibbon's novel " For the King."

New Royal, Liverpool.
„ 9 "Jesmond Dene." drama, in four acts (authors unannounced)

T.R., Ipswich.
< „ 10 " The Night Express," play written in a prologue and three acts, by

Gerald Holcroft. T.R., Edmonton.
„ 16° " School for Scandal," Sheridan's comedy. Crystal Palace.

In Paris, from September 16, 1890, to October 14, 1890.
Sept. 20 " Madame Othello," three-act vaudeville, by Maxime Boucheron

and Ernest Morel. Cluny.

„ 24° " La Maitresse Legitime," four-act comedy, by Louis Daryl. Odi'on.
,, 27 " L'Ogre," five-act drama, by Jules de Marthold. Ambigu.
Oct. 7 " L'Art de Tromper les I* emmes," three-act comedy, by Paul Ferrier

and Emile de Najac. Gymnase.
„ 8 " Marie Stuart, Reine d'Ecosse," five-act drama, by L. Cressonois

and C. Samson, incidental. Theatre Historique (Chateau d'Eau).
,, 10 " Ces Monstres d'Hommes," farcical comedy, in three acts, by M.M.

Rene' Lafon and Darsay. Di'jazet.
„ 14 " Les Femmes des Amis," comedy, in three .acts, by M.M. Blum and

Toche. Palais Royal.

THE THEATRE.

DECEMBER,

The Worship of Bad Plays,

BY CLEMENT SCOTT.

LL, who take a sincere interest in the drama, must have
observed, with something like alarm, a tendency in recent
years to make the stage a pulpit and a platform instead
of a place of legitimite and general amusement. It is
assumed on very insufficient evidence that literature is
divorced from the drama. This is the common cant of
the superior young person. It is argued that the Philistines hold
possession of the stalls. The superfine young gentlemen of to-day
try to din into our ears that our dramatic system is all wrong, that
conventionality is throttling the poor old drama, that all our plays
are constructed, and arranged, on a false system, and that the day of
a dramatic revolution is at hand. We are told that the people who
go to the play don't want to be amused or interested — they want to
be instructed. In the future they are not to be stimulated, but talked
at. The theatre is not to be a reaction and a relief from the worries
of the day, but an aggravation of its argumentative horrors.
Unquestionably the experiment announced by Mr. Beerbohm Tree
of a series of " Unpopular Mondays " at the Haymarket delighted the
active, earnest, and energetic revolutionists. Here was a chance of
seeing all the plays that had been buried for years at the dictation of
the vain and muddle-headed managers of the old school. The light
would dawn at last ; the new era would begin.

With characteristic energy and independence the Haymarket
manager started the series with a play that was supposed to be the
bete-nuire of managers. At last " Beau Austin," by Robert Louis
Stevenson and W. E. Henley, was to smell the footlights. It had
been offered to many managers, including Mr. Henry Irving, and
apparently rejected by all. Doubtless they all admired its litera-
ture, but doubted its staying power. Among the enthusiastic
admirers of "Beau Austin " were Mr. George Moore and Mr. William
Archer. On them had been conferred the privilege of reading this
masterpiece. Mr. George Moore rushed into print and asked with tears
in his voice when " Beau Austin " was to be produced ; Mr. William

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI. P

262 THE THEATRE. [DEC. l, 1890.

Archer, loyal and true to the Editor of the Scots Observer — a con-
verted Irvingite, who thinks that no one but a born idiot could praise
" Ravenswood " at the Lyceum — read " Beau Austin," delighted in it,
and very generously, according to his own showing, tried to get it
acted. He had a strong opinion, and in that opinion he was sincere.

But I question if many playgoers who saw " Beau Austin " on the
occasion of its first production could have conceived it possible that
a critic and authority usually so temperate, so judicial, and so un-
emotional, could have been led away — obviously with sincerity — to
place " Beau Austin " on such a pinnacle of fame. Mr. Archer very
candidly tells us that he was prejudiced in favour of " Beau Austin."
He admits having read the play cursorily five years ago, and it is
obvious that the perusal of the play must have created a stronger
impression than he imagined, for ho seemed in the case of " Beau
Austin " to be sounding the war-hoop, and to be raising the cry of
Stevenson and Henley to the rescue as recently he laised the cry of
Ibsen to the front.

Did anyone ever hear such praise as this from William Archer : —

" I was prepared for, I had braced myself up to accept the said starting point.
While on the other hand tha classic simplicity and symmetry of the action, the
poignancy of the emotional process, the incomparable grace and subtlety of the
style, all came upon me with the vividness of ne\v sensations. Believe me or not
asyou please the play gripped me so that I felt the entr'actes a positive nuisance.
They invited me to exchange greetings with an old friend returned only a few
hours before, from three years' voyaging east of the sun and west of the moon.
But I would much rather have remained in my seat and kept the illusion
unbroken ; not that I loved — less, but that I loved 'Beau Austin' more."

Or again—

" What a keen and unaccustomed joy it was to hear such finely chased prose
spoken on the English stage. I should not be surprised if this scene were to
make ' Beau Austin ' a stage classic. No actor or actress of any literary
intelligence but will long for an opportunity to give his or her reading of this
noble passage."

Or again—

"I shall always reckon that Monday evening among the most remarkable of
my theatrical experiences."

Or again—

"It was a play of incontestable literary interest by two of the finest craftsmen
of our time both in prose and verse."

Or again —

" A better made play (in the best sense of the phrase) it would be difficult to

cite."

And finally —

" In short Mr. Tree could not have launched his new enterprise more
judiciously. People who care only for the violent delights of melodrama will
probably condemn ' Beau Austin,' as they would ' Le Chandelier,' or ' On no
Badine pas avec L' Amour.' Those on the other hand who are athirst for more
delicate and complex sensations than the English stage is wont to afford, will

DEC. l, 18CO.] THE WORSHIP OF BAD PLAYS. 263

make a point of waiting on the ' Beau ' at their earliest opportunity. And they
are to be numbered I believe by thousands."

Whew ! whew ! Mr. Archer, you positively take my breath away.
I don't quite know whether I am on my head or my heels. Why
they used to accuse me of gush, as they politely called it, and ex-
aggeration, but you have fairly beaten me at my own game of
lawful enthusiasm, without which the stage and players must die.
What do you say ? Robert Louis Stevenson and W. E. Henley are
two of the finest craftsmen in their line in prose or verse ? The
author of the prologue to "Beau Austin" with its unscannable
lines the finest craftsmen in verse ! Which of the two is it, Mr.
Archer, I beg you to tell me, who reminds you of Alfred de Musset ?
What is the passage in the new play that can hold a candle to
" Le Chandelier " or " On ne Badine pas." A stage classic is to be
the future triumph for " Beau Austin " is it ? A better made play
it would be difficult to cite ! Ye Gods ! and Mr. William Archer
has read nearly every play ever written since the days of Shakes-
peare and long before he was born. In all the range of Mr. Archer's
wide experience, he cannot quote a better made play than " Beau
Austin." Well, 1 have heard of the clannishness of Scotsmen, but
this beats cock-fighting.

But why not, dear friend Archer, with all your love of literature
and the modern Athens, why not praise this unexampled masterpiece
without " contemning " the " violent delights of melodrama." Why
imagine, as the superfine school continually does, that melodrama is
the only fare that the British public loves ; nay, the only fare that is
placed upon the dramatic dinner table. Only the other day, dear Mr.
Archer, you praised Mr. Carton's " Sunlight and Shadow," and I do
not think you would endorse the opinion of one of your friends who
called it " sentimental cat lap." I don't think yon wholly objected
to the "Middleman," or " Judah," or "The Profligate," and you
and I don't think that one of these plays could be classed among
the " violent delights of melodrama." There are no violent melo-
dramatic delights in "A Pair of Spectacles," a charmingly written
play that is drawing crowded houses to the Garrick. Is it just to
assume that the whole playgoing world is to be branded with
Philistinism because it cannot accept " Beau Austin " as a stage
classic, or will not compare its authors with Alfred de Musset ? Is it
honest, is it straightforward to imply, as the superfine and superior
person does constantly imply, that hundreds of excellent dramatists
who have worked successfully for the stage since the Robertson
revival are necessarily devoid of literary taste and faculty because
they have not written books or poems ?

Luckily, Mr. Archer, you have given me one loop-hole for escape.
Although you indirectly institute a comparison between " Beau
Austin " and the masterpieces of Alfred de Musset ; although you
think it will become a stage classic ; although you cannot with all
your learning quote a better made play, not even among the store of
your beloved Ibsen ; although you think the author of " Dr. Jekyll

264 THE THEATRE. [DEC. l, 1890.

and Mr. Hyde " and the editor of the Scots Observer two of the
finest craftsmen of our time in prose and verse, still you candidly
own, by a side wind, that "the play has its faults of construction,
of development, perhaps even of style," which is a pretty strong
reservation for a masterpiece and a future stage classic.

I am sometimes told, Mr. Archer, that you and I are exact op-
posites ; that I am impressionable, whilst you are reserved, that I am
the advocate, whereas you are the judge. It is quite true that I had
not the advantage of reading the play beforehand — a privilege reserved
for yourself, Mr. George Moore, and a few others — I did not take my
seat with my brain charged with the wit and humour and epigram of
the " two finest craftsmen of our time." I had to pick up the literary
excellence of the play — as the general public was compelled to do —
through the glasses of the spectators, and as you well know actors
and actresses are not always very distinct or perfect on a first night.
But I tell you candidly. I thought that the whole of the opening
dialogue at the tea-table, admirable as it may be in literature, was far
too protracted and prosyforthe stage. It worried me, whilst it evidently
stimulated you. I was not stimulated or exhilarated, I was depresed,
and so were dozens — and they were not fools — who sat around me.
Now, of course, though Sheridan cannot be mentioned in the same
breath as the author of " Beau Austin," still he was a literary man as
well as a dramatist. He never bored his audiences. His dialogue
sparkles in our ears to-day, although we know it all by heart. You
cannot cite a better made play than " Beau Austin " ? Well, everyone
to his tastes. I can cite a far better made play, one out of ten
thousand better made plays. I shall be content with the " School
for Scandal," until I find a better modern play.

How strange it is that our opinions should be BO diametrically
opposed on a mere technical matter alone. I wonder if " wine
tasters " differ so absolutely as we do. Fancy, if I cracked up a
bottle of fine claret, as '74 port, and you judged old champagne as
Madeira. They would call one or other of us an ignoramus, would
they not ? When I remember that never-ending dialogue at the
starting of the play, which told me nothing that I wanted to know ;
when I recall Dorothy's spontaneous confession and her lover's
reception of it ; when I ponder over the main motive which you
yourself condemn ; when I picture to myself the soiling of Dorothy,
the sudden conversion of the Beau and the triviality of the last scene
with the dumb Duke, I honestly should not be far wrong if I called
" Beau Austin " a very badly made play as plays go. I think I am
pretty quick and alert to sympathetic and human interest, but I
seldom remember to have been interested less over what you call an
ambitious work that has a decided literary flavour in it. Now was it
possible to have collected, in all London, a more sympathetic and in-
telligent audience, but do you honestly think, dear Mr. Archer, that
one-third of these would have cared to sit the play out again ? I
very much doubt it myself.

I turn from the earnest enthusiasm of Mr. William Archer, and

DEC. l, 1890.] THE WORSHIP OF BAD PL A YS. 265

find in The Hawk an anonymous article that goes even further still
in its desire to induce the public to patronise bad plays. The writer
says : —

" ' Beau Austin,' whether it is interesting or dull, whether it is well-written
or ill-written, whether it draws or loses money, is, thank Heaven, a play which
two men havs tried to write well. I don't care if it is only a series of scenes,
a sequence of unconsequential incidents, disconnected and crude judged as a
dramatic work. To my mind there is a freshness and originality in every line
that is spoken which is invigorating, and reminds one of coming out of the
mental fog of melodrama into the breezy heights of literature. ' Beau Austin '
is a play to read : a play to be read over and over again."

There they are at it again ! The mental fog of melodrama. The
"Beau Austinites" will not believe that comedy is ever played in
England. They will not recognise the fact that a dramatist lives
who has been educated beyond the School Board standard. They
forget that even Mr. Tree, the apostle of the new superfine religion,
the rock to which the young superior person clings, does not disdain
melodrama, and is actually desecrating the sacred stage of the Hay-
market with " Called Back," and having coquetted with " Beau
Austin," does not disdain the commercial aspect of affairs. But the
recommendation that we should all go and admire " Beau Austin "
because two men have tried to write well is too delicious for words.
A burden is taken off my own soul, and I feel as if someone had
given me absolution for my sins — it must have been " The Village
Priest," Mr. Beerbohm Tree — for I know that most of the
plays that I myself tried to write well turned out the most
disastrous failures. Oh ! how often I have tried to write well for the
stage, and how I have been laughed at for my pains. They told me
that my plays might be all very well to read, but they bored everyone
to listen to them. I did not think my critics were right at the time,
but I honestly do so now. So I took a mighty resolve, and left off
writing for the stage altogether. I found out it was not my trade.
I had justified myself as a critic by being a failure in art, so I stuck
to the old calling.

There is a natural tendency to think that a popular writer in other
departments of literature must succeed as a dramatist. But it is not
so. Browning and Tennyson, amongst poets, have failed as dramatists.
It does not follow that Swinburne, who can write dramatic poems,
would write a stage play. Thackeray and Dickens were dramatic
enough, but they were not dramatists. Mr. Walter Besant sticks to
his novels, and does extremely well. It is almost impossible for the
most brilliant writer to write well for the stage who does not under-
stand the stage. Why, then, should it be considered impossible for
Mr. Robert Louis Stevenson or Mr. W. E. Henley to fail at the outset
as dramatists because they are said to be " two of the finest craftsmen
of our time in prose and verse." I don't say that in time they will
not write a very admirable play, but I don't think that time has come
yet. They do not as yet understand the stage. They have not
studied audiences. They are new to the dramatic business. They
are clever amateurs !

266 THE THEATRE. [DEC. 1, 1890.

But, seriously, is not a little nonsense occasionally spoken about
the divorce of literature and the drama ?

Can it be maintained on any trustworthy evidence that literature
and the drama are divorced when the Garrick Theatre was dedicated
to literature, at the time that Mr. Pinero gave us his literary play,
" The Profligate " ? Will the superior person deny to Mr. Henry
Arthur Jones the quality of literature when he reads, as he may
read to advantage, the dialogue contained in "The Middleman"
and " Judah " ? No. Literature and the drama are lovers, and
cannot be separated ; they may have their tiffs, their misunder-
standings, and their unhappy hours, but the course of their true
love ever must run smooth. Amanthim irae amoris integratio est.
The quarrels of lovers are the renewal of love. I can imagine the
drama saying to its lover literature, in the words of Judah Llewel-
lyn, the hero recently despised by the superior person, the hero put
on a lower scale than Master Walter, and the pinchbeck heroes of
Sheridan Knowles :—

" Not for every blessing in the world will I part with you ; heap
them all up — fame, riches, health, peace of mind, length of days,
honour, friendship, every joy of body, mind, and soul that the heart
of man can desire, put them in one scale and your love in the other,
I will not have them, I don't want them, I want your love, I will not
barter you away for all the world contains."

And then the despised literature might answer, " Oh ! but think
what I am."

" You are yourself " would be the drama's quick reply.

" You are myself ; whatever you are I will make myself, that I
may be like you, I will deserve you, be sure. If you are evil, I will
be evil too, so that at the last I may taste every drop of suffering
that you taste, feel every pang, and keep your soul side by side with
mine for ever !

DEC. 1, 1390.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 267

" Antony and Cleopatra :

Its Stage History.
By WM. DAVENPORT ADAMS.

HE revival of Shakespeare's "Antony' and Cleopatra " at
the Princess's, under the auspices of Mrs. Langtry, has
once more drawn public attention to that which Coleridge
characterized as " by far the most powerful " of the
Master's historical plays. After an interval of seventeen
years, the tragedy is once more attracting London,
audiences, and " old stagers " are, as usual, boring the younger
playgoers— this time by dwelling upon the Antonys and the
Cleopatras whom they have seen in the course of their career.

The list cannot, in any case, be a long one. Nor, in truth, is the
whole stage history of the work at all full or lengthy. " Antony
and Cleopatra " has never been one of the most popular of the
Shakespearean series. It cannot have been performed frequently
before the Restoration, for there is not a single record of any
representation ; and after the Restoration, though Shakespeare's
drama was interpreted from time to time, its vogue was, for a long
period, considerably inferior to that of " All for Love, or the World
Well Lost," the tragedy which Dryden wrote on the same subject,
and in direct imitation of the Shakespearean manner.

A play called " Antony and Cleopatra " was entered on the
Stationers' Register, on November 20th, 1G08, and it is assumed
that this must have been the work by Shakespeare. Previous to
this date there had been, as everybody knows, a drama called
" Cleopatra," founded by Samuel Daniel upon Plutarch and a French
history of the triumvirate, and another called " Antony," translated
by the Countess of Pembroke from the French of Gamier. To
neither of these plays, however, was Shakespeare indebted : he
went straight to Plutarch (in Nort'i's version), and built upon the
Life of Marcus Antonius the magnificent structure, that we see.

"Antony and Cleopatra" was first printed in the folio of 1623.
After that we do not hear of it again until January, 1759, when it
was brought out at Drury Lane under the auspices of Garrick. " It
had long lain dormant," says Davies, in his " Miscellanies," — " I
believe ever since it was first exhibited " (whenever that may have
been). It was revived by Garrick, according to the chronicler,
"from his passionate desire to give the public as much of their
admired poet as possible." The poet was not, indeed, given in his

268 THE THEATRE. [DEC. 1, 1890.

entirety, Tout as " altered " by Edward Capell — with certain
characters omitted and various passages transposed. The play, we
read, had " all the advantages of new scenes, habits, and other
decorations," and it was undeniably well cast, according to the
standard of the time. Garrick, of course, was Antony ; Mrs. Yates,
Cleopatra ; Holland, Thyreus (to whom was allotted the description
of Cleopatra in her barge, which is set down in the text for
Enobarbus) ; Berry, Enobarbus ; Fleetwood, Ca3sar ; Wilkinson,
Canidius ; Mrs. Glen, Octavia ; aad so on. Nevertheless, the pro-
duction, Davies says, "did not answer" either Garrick's or the
public's expectation — perhaps because the great actor was himself
a comparative failure in the piece. "It must be confessed," we
are told,]" that, in Antony, he wanted one necessary accomplishment :
his person was not sufficiently important or commanding to represent
the part." On the other hand, Mrs. Yates's " fine figure and pleas-
ing manner of speaking were well adapted to the enchanting
Cleopatra." Practical result — a " run " of six nights only, and complete
silence about the affair on the part of jGarrick's early biographers.
Mr. Percy Fitzgerald gives only a few lines to the revival, which
evidently made but little impression, save upon Davies, who devotes
an interesting section of his " Miscellanies " to comments upon the
play.

From 1759 we have to leap to 1813 — so far as the recorded
representations of the tragedy are concerned. After 1759, as well
as before it, " All for Love " was frequently performed, but its
prototype, for some not very intelligible reason, was neglected.
At length, in 1813, "Antony and Cleopatra " was "put on" at
Covent Garden, in a version attributed to John Philip Kemble. In
this " acting edition " " All for Love " was largely drawn upon.
The fourth act, Genest tells us, was nearly all Dryden, whose work
was also prominent in act ii. The whole concluded with a funeral
procession. Charles Mayne Young was the Antony, Mrs. Faucit
the Cleopatra, Abbott the Cassar, Egerton the Enobarbus, Terry the
Ventidius, Murray the Thyreus, and Barrymore.the Lepidus. The
staging of the composite tragedy appears to have been well done ;
t>ut the revival, as a whole, did not secure the popular favour, and
it lasted for only nine nights.

Twenty years were destined to pass before London witnessed
another resuscitation of Shakespeare's work. Then, again, it
was " crossed " with Dryden. The locale was Drury Lane ; the time,
November, 1833 ; the manager, Alfred Bunn ; the leading actor,
Macready. Bunn says nothing about the production in his u Remi-
niscences of the Stage." Macready, however, has several references to
it in his " Diary." He was not on good terms with Bunn, and,
moreover, was in bad health : some of his allusions, therefore, are
rather querulous. On November IGth, he went to the theatre
about his dress for Antony, which he "persisted, after evasion
and delay, in seeing." On the same day he " read Plutarch's
Life of Antony, and then gave a very careful reading to the

DEC. 1, 1890.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 269

part itself, which is long, and I fear not effective." Two days
later he mentions that he has " settled dresses for Antony, of which
nothing was allowed to be new but a cloak " (generous manager !).
November 19th : "Went to rehearsal of Antony, which was in a
very backward state, and mounted with very inappropriate scenery,
though beautifully painted by Stanfield." November 20th : "Read
Antony through the whole evening, and discovering many things to
improve and bring out the effect of the part." Next day the perform-
ance took place ; and Mac?eady apparently was not satisfied with
his share in it, for on November 22nd he says he acted Antony
better that night than on the previous one. Even then, however, the
impersonation was, in his own opinion, " hasty, unprepared, un-
finished." It was submitted to the public only thrice— the shortest
of all the " runs," so far ! The Cleopatra on each occasion was Miss
Phillips, and the Enobarbus was Cooper. The cast, taken altogether,
appears to have been mediocre, and the upshot proportionately de-
pressing.

The tragedy, it is clear, never had so much justice done to it as
when, in October, 1849,* it was produced at Sadlers' Wells, under the
direction, able and enthusiastic, of Phelps. Here, for the first time,
it was presented in its integrity, as well as (to quote Phelps's biogra-
pher) " with great splendour." " George Daniel " — the veteran
"D. G." of the Cumberland edition of plays—" said it was the most
magnificent revival that had appeared since the palmy days of the
great and classical John Kemble." Frederick Guest Tomlins, writ-
ing in one of the daily papers, observed that the piece was " in all
respects very interestingly and impressively represented and placed
upon the stage." The cast was "admirable," he declared. Miss
Glyn, the Cleopatra, " imparted singular grace, animation, warmth,
and earnestness " to her impersonation. Phelp's Antony was " care-
ful and effective" ; Henry Marston's Pompeius, " admirable." Georgo
Bennett was the Enobarbus, whom he endowed with a " rugged honesty
of manner." After this, Miss Glyn starred at the Standard in 1855, with
Henry Marston as her Antony, and the production was pronounced
to be " one of the greatest triumphs' ever known at that end of the
town." Twelve years later— in 1867— the play was brought out at the
Princess's \\ ith Miss Glyn again as the heroine, Mr. Henry Loraine
(now playing Proculeius in Mrs. Langtry's revival at the Princess's),
as the Antony, and Henry Forrester as the Caesar. I never had the
pleasure of seeing Miss Glyn's Cleopatra, but I can imagine that,
though lacking in charm of face and figure and deportment, it would
be eminently intellectual and forcible.

I need not dwell upon the Drury Lane revival in 1873, which is
eo well within the memory of most playgoers. Here the old policy
of "adaptation " was resorted to, the executioner being Mr. Andrew
Halliday — an excellent play-wright, but not quite a Shakespeare.
He Compressed the five acts into four, and also " edited " the text.

* Xot 1850, as so frequently stated.

270 THE THEATRE. [DEC. 1, 1890.

The scenery was by William Beverly. The Cleopatra was Miss
"Wallis, the present ruler of the Shaf tesbury Theatre, who, very young
as she then was, displayed much intelligence and some skill in her
treatment of her difficult and arduous role. The veteran James
Anderson was the Antony, Caspar being played by H. Sinclair and
Enobarbus by Jack Ryder. Miss Wallis afterwards appeared in the
provinces in her own abbreviated version of the tragedy, with a vigor-
ous if somewhat rugged Antony in the'person.of the late F. Clemments.
Country audiences had previously had the privilege of witnessing
the revivals of " Antony and Cleopatra," promoted by the late
Charles Calvert — revivals in which Walter Montgomery and Miss
Reinhardt played the leading roles.

An accomplished writer of our time has said of " Antony and
Cleopatra " that, in the United State ;, it has " failed to find favour
with histrionic stars, and its stage history is, so far as English records
of American undertakings are concerned, a blank." That may be,
but American records are a little more fruitful. From them we
learn that the tragedy was brought out in New York in 1846, with
George Vandenhoff and Mrs. Bland in the title parts. There is also
a trace of it in 1859, when it was seen again in New York, with
Eddy and Madame Ponisi in the chief characters, Mr. J. W. Howe
as Caesar, and Mrs.G. C. Germonin the role of Charmian. Quite lately
the play has been produced in the theatrical metropolis of America
with an Antony and a Cleopatra in the persons of Mr. Kyrle Bellew
and Mrs. Brown-Potter — a handsome couple, and a picturesque, if
little more.

That Shakespeare's remarkable success in the delineation of
Cleopatra and her surroundings should have roused his successors to
emulation is not to be wondered at. The subject, always fascinating,
was made by Shakespeare more fascinating still. Hence, no doubt,
the " Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt," of Thomas May, acted in 1020 and
printed a few years later. Of Dryden's " All for Love " (January,
1677-8) I have already spoken. Davies said of it, quite truly, that its
author, " in endeavouring to imitate his master, has excelled him-
self." Other writers have had the temerity to take, not only
Shakespeare's subject, but his title. So small a man as Sir Charles
Sedley had the assurance so to do, producing his "Antony and
Cleopatra" at the Duke's Theatre in 1077. In this he had the
valuable help of Betterton as Antony, the Cleopatra being Mrs. Mary
Lee. Crosby, Medbourne, Sandford, Harris, Mrs. Hughes, and Mrs-
Betterton were also in the cast. Sedley " borrowed very little " from
Shakespeare, but "spoiled what he took." He made Thyreus in
love with Cleopatra, and Antony jealous of him. The two rivals
fight for the lady, and Thyreus is killed. For the rest, the main
lines of the tale are followed.

The same may be said of the " Antony and Cleopatra " written in
prose and verse by Henry Brooke (author of " The Fool of Quality ")
and published with other "literary remains" in 1778. This, like
its predecessors, is a five-act tragedy ; nor is it by any means without

DEC. 1, 1890.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 271

poetic and dramatic merit. The style has sincerity and vigour : had
Shakespeare not written, this play might have held the stage, at any
rate, for'a time ; but, after Shakespeare, why need anyone write ? A
notable feature of Brooke's effort is the inclusion in the personce of
Cleopatra's two children, Alexander and Cleopatra. The short scenes
in which these youngsters appear are not ineffective; but, alas! why
are they allowed to call each other " Ally " and " Patty " ? Mr.
Henry Brooke can hardly have rejoiced in the possession of the
sense of humour.

Yet another "Antony and Cleopatra" remains to be mentioned.
Not a tragedy this time — a farce, and a farce which smells strongly
of a Gallic origin. The author was that prolific dramatist, Charles
Selby ; the place of first performance, the Adelphi Theatre ; the date
November, 1842. The scene is laid several stairs up in a lodging in
Paris. The characters, Antony and Cleopatra — "a gentleman in
town " and a grisette — live in adjoining rooms, and are separated
only by a locked door. They discover — talking to each other, one on
each side of the door — that they have just met at a masked ball.
Antony is much enamoured of the unknown fair, and would fain
penetrate into her apartment. She asks his name : —

He : Antony.

She : La, how very odd ! I'm Cleopatra.

He : Indeed ! Extraordinary genealogical coincidence ! We are bound to
imitate our great prototypes. They had no wall between them. Let us be his-
torically correct . . .

She : No, no, no ! Historians differ.

But there the classical allusions end. Though entitled " Antony and
Cleopatra," the farce has next to nothing to do with Shakespeare. I
will only add, for the sake of completeness, that Wright and Miss
Woolgar (following Miss Murray) played in the piece, as they did in
the sequel which Selby wrote for them under the title of " Antony
and Cleopatra Married and Settled."

Finally : " Antony and Cleopatra " has not escaped travestie. The
parodist was that most forgivable of sinners, Mr. Burnand, who
called his work" Antony and Cleopitra ; or, History and Her-Story " —
a characteristic title.

Of Shakespeare's tragedy as drami and as poetry I say nothing
in this place, preferring to confine myself strictly to its stage
history. The published criticisms on the play are legion — not the
least interesting, I may say, being that which was contributed to this
magazine in February and March, 1887, by Mr. H. Schiitz- Wilson.
To that excellent essay I have much pleasure in drawing the
attention of my readers.

272 THE THEATRE. [DEC. 1, 1890.

Modern Stage Superstitions.

BY A. J. D.

;E hear a great deal nowadays about the close relationship
existing between Church and Stage, and the conclusion
popularly deduced from the union of those dissimilar
institutions is that the clerical friendship recently
extended towards the denizens of stage-land has exer-
cised a distinctly beneficial effect upon the theatre in
many ways. Let this, regarded from a moral and a theo-
logical standpoint, be as it may : on such delicate and debatable ground it
would be dangerous to trespass. It is very clear, however, that in
the matter of superstition the stage is still very far behind the times.
The spread of education has swept away most of the ancient super-
stitions which owed their origin to the ignorance and mysticism of
the Dark Ages, and which held until comparatively recently a
prominent place in the minds of the community at large. Yet,
although this same educational influence has made itself felt to an
equal degree in the dramatic world, it certainly appears to have
failed to exercise the same effect. This is in itself surprising ;
but when, in addition, it is remembered that the Church has
bestowed special attention upon the extensive and daily increasing
community of actors and actresses, and that in spite of its teachings
the faith in good luck, bad luck, omens, charms, and all the para-
phenalia of superstitious belief, still prevails behind the scenes as
extensively as of yore, the subject of this article is invested with a
certain amount of serious interest, which deserves more than passing
notice.

Into the origin of the many curious superstitions which sway the
minds and guide the actions of nine actors and actresses out of ten I
have no intention to enter. It is sufficient for my purpose that they
exist, and though in numerous cases it would be possible to trace
them back to a condition closely akin to that of Pooh-Bah's " proto-
plasmal primordial atomic globule," there are one or two theatrical
superstitions still extant so eccentric and ludicrous, that the conclu-
sion is irresistibly forced upon one that they owe their existence to
the exuberant jocularity of some irrepressible humourist.

Take, for instance, the curious notion of exorcising the evil spirit
of bad luck by hurling fragments of coal from the stage to the
gallery of a theatre. This curious performance was at one time also
considered absolutely necessary before playing in a new theatre ; the
popular idea being that a curse hung over the building — a curse of
so peculiar a nature that nothing but the projection of a lump of
Silkstone or Wallsend through space would dissipate it.

DEC. l, 13UO.J MODERN STAGE SUPERSTITIONS. 273

Much importance is attached to black cats. la some theatres a.
black cat is considered the embodimant of good luck ; in others the
appearance on the stage of a feline pet of sable hua is calculated to
create a veritable panic.

To a black cat is attributed the successful run of " The Private
Secretary." As is generally known, that play, on its original pro-
duction, proved anything but a success, and the wiseacres viewed
its removal from the Prince of Wales's Theatre to the Globe with
disapproval. The Globe, they said, is an unlusky theatre, and
failure is certain to stare Mr. Hawtrey in the face in the course of
a week or two at the utmost. Their gloomy predictions were not
realised, however, for the play in its new quarters became an
instantaneous success. Amongst the company this change was attri,
buted to the appearance of a black cat on the stage.

Miss Fannie Leslie some time since informed an interviewer that
she regards black cats as very lucky when they cross the stage at
rehearsal.

To open an umbrella or parasol on the stage is usually looked upon
as a proceeding calculated to result in the most terrible consequences,
involving not only the perso n who performs the operation but his or
her associates as well. The umbrella seems indeed to have a very
bad name on the stage, for it bodes ill for all concerned if one of
these useful articles is placed on the prompter's table.

Perhaps the most popular superstition — if one may use the adjec-
tive— is that it is unlucky to speak the " tag" of a play at rehearsal.
Any nonsense may be spoken save the author's final words, and ter-
rible nonsense indeed is usually uttered, nonsense thoroughly cal-
culated to frighten half-a-dozen evil sprites bent upon " wrecking " a
piece.

To stumble on entering a theatre or on going on the stage is-
another omen of dreadful import, though its effects are not always
disastrous. Mr. Toole relates an instance to this effect in his "Remi-
niscences ": — " On the 9th July, 1853," the famous comedian tells us,
" I made my first appearance on the Edinburgh stage as Hector
Timid in the play of ' The Dead Shot.' I had travelled from Dub-
lin, and arrived in Edinburgh in the afternoon, very tired and weary.
I put up at Milne's Hotel in Leigh Street, and after a rehearsal went
to bed fairly worn out. I left instructions with the landlady to call
me and bring me a cup of tea at a certain hour which would give me
plenty of time to get to the theatre ; but she forgot her instructions,,
and I was still sleeping soundly when a messenger arrived from the
theatre to enquire for me. The curtain was up. I was in a terrible
fright. I sprang out of bed, dressed, rushed to the theatre, and was
just in time to scramble upon the stage and take up my cue. In en-
tering, I stumbled over a mat and almost fell, and this so worried and
upset me that throughout the whole piece I was nervous and
wretched. Next day, however, I was agreeably surprised to find the
critics unanimous in their praise of my acting, specially pointing out
how ' appropriate to the character of Hector Timid was the uneasy,

274 THE THEATRE. [DEC. 1, 1890.

manner and faltering gait of the young comedian.' " In Mr. Toole's
case the accident proved anything but of ill-omen.

Virtues respectively good and bad are supposed to be associated
with the possession of a crooked back and what are vulgarly termed
cross-eyes. Madame Patti entertains a peculiar objection to persons
who are afflicted in the latter way — thBjettore,or "evil eye" as Italians
term it — and Madame Sarah Bernhardt always takes good care that
there is no cross-eyed person on the stage when entering upou her
nightly labours. A hunchback, on the other hand, is regarded, for
some unknown and mysterious reason, with anything but aversion.
Indeed to meet a hunchback is looked upon as an omen of singu-
larly favourable import, and to touch the hunch is to insure a run
of good luck.

The actor who thoughtlessly whistles in his dressing-room or in the
dressing-rooms of any of his colleagues does a terrible thing, for the
general supposition is that the person standing neai'est the door of the
apartment is destined to be stricken with illness. That the whistling
of Locke's music to " Macbeth " is also calculated to bring the run of
a play to an abrupt termination is also a very old superstition which
carries much weight in the theatrical profession.

Among minor superstitions is the fear of a yellow clarionet in the
orchestra, and the belief in the ill-luck of peacock's feathers, and the
colour lavender. Cobwebs behind the scenes are regarded with an
amount of respect closely bordering on reverence.

Many actors and actresses have implicit faith in the lucky pro-
perties of certain garments or special portions of their wardrobes,
such as wigs, gloves, shoes, and other minor details, believing that the
wearing of them will ensure a favourable reception at the hands of
their audience, and — who knows — perhaps glowing criticisms in the
papers. I am afraid, however, that the average dramitic critic is
rather a matter-of-fact sort of individual, whose soul is not likely
to be swayed by any mystic influence of this sort.

Friday is so universally regarded as an unlucky day, that it is not
surprising to find that the fifth day of the week should be looked
upon in the romantic world of the drama as one to be carefully
avoided when setting forth on a theatrical campaign. Still there are
exceptions even to this very general rule. Friday is, I believe, Mr.
Edward Terry's favourite day, and he invariably selects that day for
the production of his new plays in the provinces. Mr. Augustin
Daly's luck, too, has been frequently associated with Friday.

The number 13 is considered by some to possess talismanic pro-
perties. A dinner party of thirteen in ordinary society is a fatality
fraught with the most direful results, but the ill-luck attaching to
the number is carried still farther in stageland. Madame Jane
Hading has a horror of anything with 13 in it ; Mr. Fred Leslie, on
the other hand, has dressed in room No. 13 at the Gaiety Theatre,
and so has Miss Letty Lind, and the latter popular lady attributes the
enthusiastic reception accorded her on her first appearance to the fact
that she attired herself under the shadow of the so-called unlucky
number.

DEC. 1, 1890.] NOT ANCHORED YET. 275

Many other superstitious equally curious might be named, but
generally speaking, they are either of minor importance, or else
prevail only among certain sections of the theatrical community.

Not Anchored Yet !

NOTHER year is numbered with the dead,

Once more, our island-home, of lonely bliss !
My breast again shelters your pillowed head,

And lips, unstained, can give your birthday kiss !
At rest, yet restless, we are wandering
T o promised land of perfect unity,
Where we shall dream at last, and closer cling

For sorrow never stirs that waveless sea.
Beloved ! bear with me life's storm and fret
We see the Harbour Lights ! Not Anchored Yet !

II.

Not Anchored Yet ! But how could I have born

A year's fierce storm without your loving hand,
How dark it seemed ! and yet we saw the morn,

Faint not ! Bad tire ! there's still our promised Land !
Dear love ! What you have lost I can't restore.

No prayer can make this year as other years,
But for your loss, I'll love you more and more

And give you faithfulness to dry your tears !
Somewhere the lost are living, nor forget
To pray for us— who wait— Not Anchored Yet !

C. S.

2 76 THE THE A THE. rose . i . i s 90.

Our Portraits.

No. CCLIIL—MISS EOSINA FILIPPI.

Miss Rosiaa Filippi, the fair subject of our first photograph, is an Italian by
birth, though brought up"and educated in England, and is proud in the know-
ledge that her mother is the only woman who has ever attained the position of
professor in the Milan Conservatoire. At an early age, Miss Filippi made her
debut as Mary Moleseye at a matinee of " Doctor Davey," given by Miss Le
Thiere. The debutante showed such promise that she was almost immediately
engaged by Mr. Benson for a five weeks' tour, during which bhe appeared as
Juliet, Ophelia, Lady Teazle, Pauline Deschapelles, &c. This was followed
by a short engagement with Miss Genevieve Ward. Miss Filippi then returned
i;o Mr. Benson's company to resume her former characters, and after this the
young actress played for some time with Mrs. Langtry as Rosalie in " Princess
George" (Jan. 20, 1885). In July of the same year, Miss Filippi appeared as
Millicent Pickering Peck (" On 'Change ") at Toole's Theatre, under Miss
Eweretta Lawrence's management. Her next engagement of importance was
with Mr. Tree to play Felise in " The Red Lamp " (April 20, 1887). A tour,
commencing March 5, 1888, as Rosa C'olombier, " the gutta-percha girl," in
"The Arabian Nights," next succeeded, and then came a long engagement at
the Court Theatre. Under Mrs. John Wood's management, Miss Filippi
appeared as Diana, in " Mamma " (Sept. 24, 1888), Mrs. Ephraim B. Vanstreek,
in " Aunt Jack " (July 13, 1889), and is now playing with extraordinary success
the Hon. Mrs. Gaylustre, in " The Cabinet Minister " (April 23, 1890). Miss
Filippi has also appeared at matinees with Mr. Hermann Vezin, as Portia, in
" The Merchant of Venice," and as Helen, in " The Hunchback," and in every
part she has undertaken has received great commendation. It is not only as
an actress, however, that Miss Filippi has been successful, for she is the
authoress of that pretty pantomime for children entitled, "Little Goody
Two Shoee," produced at the Court Theatre, December 26, 1888 ; and
also of a gracefully constructed Masque of Months, entitled, " An Idyl of New
Year's Eve," which was given at Chelsea Town Hall, January 31st of this year,
and in which Miss Norreys, Miss Annie Hughes, Miss Florence Wood, Mrs.
Phelps, and others appeared.

No. CCLIV. ME. FRED TERRY.

Mr. Fred Terry, the subject of our second portrait, is a member of the
clever Terry family, and is worthily upholding their dramatic reputation. His
first appearance was not in a speaking part — he walked on in the club scene in
" Money," the play with which Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft opened the Haymarket
Theatre, January 31, 1880. Mr. Terry's first part was that of Bertie Fitzuree,
in " New Men and Old Acres," when the play was given at the Crystal Palace,
in May, 1880, and he toured in the autumn of that year with Mr. and Mrs.
Chippendale's comedy company. The provinces engaged his attention for a
considerable time, until he joined Mr. Charles Kelley's company, which was
touring with the comedy, "Pair o' Wings," " Othello," " Merchant of Venice."
The year 1883 was passed in Miss Marie de Grey's provincial company, during
which time Mr. Terry played Joseph Surface, Mercutio, Beauseant, Gratiano,
and such characters, and at the close of the year, and during part of 1884, he
appeared on tour as Captain Holcrof t (" In the Ranks.") On July 8, 1884, the
subject of our photograph came to London to play Sebastian, in "Twelfth
Night," at the Lyceum Theatre. Mr. Terry's next character of importance

"THE THEATRE," DECEMBER, 1890.

Photographed bv Barraud, Oxford Street, W.

MISS ROSINfl FILIPPI,

' Ah ! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar?"

— JAMES BEATTIE,

"THE MINSTREL. '

EQLINQTON & Co.. PUBLISHERS,
LONDON.

"THE THEATRE," DECEMBER, 1890.

Photographed by Barraud. Oxford Street, W.

MR. FRED. TERRY.

•' Ay, now comes my turn, those d d family pictures

will ruin me."

— CHARLES SURFACE, in

"SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL.

EQLINUTON & Co.. PUBLISHERS,
LONDON.

DEC. 1 , 1890.] OUR PLA Y-BOX. 277

was that of Gilbert Vaughan in " Called Back," this was in 188-4-5, and he sub-
sequently went to America for a year, and returned to England in the
spring of 1887. The autumn of that year, and the early spring of 1888 were
again spent in America as a member of Miss Fortescue's company. Mr. Terry
has since remained in London. Among the parts which he has played, since

August 4, 1888), Chevalier D'Aubigny ("The Duke's Boast," Avenue, March
21,1880)', Eustace Errol ("Calumny," Shaftesbury, April 4, 1889), Olivier
Deschamps (" Esther Sandraz," Prince of Wales's, June 11, 1889), The Dauphin
("King John," Crystal Palace, Sept. 19, 1889), Jack Hall ("The Jackal,"
Strand, Nov. 28, 1889), Dr. Bill, in the play of that name (Avenue, Feb. 1,
1890), Armand D'Arcey ("The Village Priest," Haymarket, April 3, 1890),
D'Aulnay (" Comedy and Tragedy," Haymarket, May 7, 1890), John Fenwick
(" Beau Austin," Haymarket, Nov. 3, 1890), and has now resumed the character
of Gilbert Vaughan in " Called Back," revived at the Haymarket, Nov. 10, 1890.
Mr. Fred Terry was born Nov. 9th, 1863.

Our Play-Box.

"SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW."

Original Play, in three acts, by R. C. CARTON.
First produced at the Avenue Theatre, Saturday evening, November 1, 1890.

Dr. Latimer . . . . Mr. NUTCOMBK GOULD.

Mark Den zil .. .. Mr. YORKE STEPHENS.

George Addis .. .. Mr. G-KO. ALEXANDER.

Mr. Bamfleld . . . . Mr. BEN WEBSTER.

Scollick Mr. ALFRED HOLLES.

Helen Miss MARION TERRY.

Maud Miss MAUDE MILLETT.

Janet Feltou . . . . Miss ADA NEILSON.

This is one of the most delightful plays that has been seen for a
considerable time. There was sufficient incident to keep the interest
thoroughly alive, the dialogue was crisp, epigrammatic, and infinitely
above the average, and in it were two types of English womanhood
in the sisters that were specially true to life. Granted many of the
audience said the writing reminded them of that of Robertson and
Albery, it might have done so ; but it was no mere imitation — the
memory was revived in the sparkle and the humanitj'. " Sunlight
and Shadow " does not contain very much of a story. Helen Latimer
is the daughter of a hard-working country doctor, and though from
his position she has not too many pleasures, she finds her happiness
in ministering to the comforts and wants of those around her. Like
many an unselfish woman, she is rather tyrannised over by her
younger sister, Maud, a bright, saucy English girl — a little spoilt,
perhaps, on account of her beauty — and so Helen is her willing
slave, and makes her pretty gowns and dresses her nut-brown hair.
Maud in the meantime enjoys her love-making with good-natured
but empty-headed young Bamfield. Helen's glimpse of life-long
happiness is revealed to her. Mark Denzil, an old friend of her
father's, proposes marriage to her ; it is not the ardent, impulsive
love of a younger man, but it is deep-felt. Denzil's youth has been
stormy ; he married beneath him, and his wife turned out all that

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVI. Q

278

THE THEATRE.

[DEC. 1, 1890-

was bad. He believes her to be dead, and so he looks forward to a
new life with Helen. Just as she has accepted him, Janet Felton,
his wife, breaks in upon them, and so their dream is ended. Four
months elapse, and Helen has become almost resigned, when she
learns that George Addis, the poor, plain, crippled choir-master has
loved her all his life. By a turn of fortune he is now in a position
to offer her his hand. She cannot marry the man she loves ; but she
has been as a sister to Addis, and he thinks that in time she may give
him her heart. Whilst she is weighing the momentous question of
her future, Addis opens a letter that has been handed to him, which
assures him of Janet Felton's death. Shall he keep this knowledge

to himself and profit by his silence to obtain the one hope of his
existence ? He is tempted almost beyond human strength ; but he
is honourable, and he loves with an unselfish love, and so when
Denzil returns, only for one last interview with Helen, Addis tells
them that the obstacle to their union is now removed. I cannot
say which played better — Miss Marion Terry, in her pure, unselfish,
graceful womanhood, or Mr. George Alexander in his noble long-
suffering, and self-denial — both afforded an artistic treat. Miss Maude
Millett was very sunny and natural ; and Mr. Yorke Stephens manly
and sympathetic. Mr. Nutcombe Gould was the essence of cheeriness
and bonhomie. Miss Ada Neilson's part was a little melodramatic,
therefore once or twice the actress was out of the picture, but

DEC. 1, 1890.]

OUR PLAY-BOX.

279

scarcely through her own fault. Mr. Ben Webster was good as one
of those vacuous, good-tempered young men that " smart " young
ladies so often on the stage appear to fall in love with — I suppose that

they may rule them the easier ; and Mr. Alfred Holies, in the small
part of a bibulous gardener, gave a capital character sketch. The
piece was a decided success.

"BEAU AUSTIN."

Original Cornady, In (our acts, by W. E. HENLEY and ROBERT Louis STEVENSON.
First produce! at the Haymarket Theatre, Monday evening, November 3, 1890.

George Frederick

Austin (The Deau) .
John Penwick . . .
Anthony Musgrave .
Mcnteith

Mr.

Mr. FRED TERRY.

Mr. EDMUND MAURICE.

Mr. BROOKFIELD.

Time, 1820.

A Ro3-al Duke .. .
Dorothy Musgrave ,
Miss Evelina Foster
Barbara Ridley . . ,

Mr. ROBB HABWOOD.

Mrs. TRBE.

Mi« RO?E LECLERCQ

Miss AYL\VARD.

PROLOGUE TO "BEAU AUSTIN."
" To all and singular," as Dryden says,
We bring a fancy of those Georgian days,
Whose style still breathed a faint and fine perfume
Of old-world courtliness and old-world bloom :
When speech was elegant and talk was fit,
For slang had not been canonised as wit ;
When manners reigned, when breeding had the wall,
And Women — yes ! — were ladies first of all ;
When Grace was conscious of its graceliness,
And man — though Man ! — was not ashamed to dress.
A brave formality, a measured ease,
Were his — and her's — whose effort was to please.
And to excel in pleasing was to reign
And, if you sighed, never to sigh in vain.

280 THE THEATRE. [DEC. 1, 1890.

But then, as now — it may be, something more —

Woman and man were human to the core.

The hearts that throbbed behind that quaint attire

Burned with a plenitude of essential fire.

They too could risk, they also could rebel,

They could love wisely — they could love too well.

In that great duel of Sex, that ancient strife

Which is the very central fact of life,

They could — and did — engage it breath for breath,

They could — and did — get wounded unto death,

As at all times since time for us began,

Woman was truly woman, Man was man ;

And joy and sorrow were as much at home

In trifling Tunbridge as in mighty Rome.

Dead — dead and done with ! Swift from shine to shade

The roaring generations flit and fade.

To this one, fading, flitting , like the rest,

We come to proffer — be it worst or best —

A sketch, a shadow, of the brave old time ;

A hint of what it might have held sublime ;

A «lream, an idyll, call it what you will,

Of man, still Man, and Woman — Woman still !

W. E. HENLEY.
Hay-market Theatre,

November 3rd, 1S90.

In the above prologue, which was distributed to the audience, but
which might with advantage have been spoken, the part author gives
us a foretaste of that which he and his collaborator desired to set
before us. Save that they rather post-dated their period in their
dialogue and sentiment, the picture was an excellent sketch ; but as a
play — it was a sketch — the canvas was not sufficiently covered, the
motives of the principal characters were too abruptly explained. A
few lines added to the dialogue, which was for the most part graceful
and scholarly, would have made the drama infinitely more effective.
As it now stands, it appears as though there had been excision, or
that the authors had not sufficiently elaborated their work. Some
six months before the story opens, Dorothy Musgrave has met and been
captivated by Beau Austin. He has taken every advantage of her
passion, and then left her. She has been for a considerable time
engaged to John Fenwick, a worthy country squire. He claims
her hand, and she tells him how she has fallen, and she entreats of
him not to take vengeance on her betrayer. Fenwick does what he
considers is the next best thing he can, and goes straight to Austin,
and so works upon his feelings that the hitherto heartless roue at
once promises that he will ask Dorothy to be his wife. The all-con-
quering Beau humbly, almost piteously, sues to her for her hand,
acknowledging how basely he has acted, but though she still loves
him, she will not marry him — he is not to her what she pictured to
herself, and she is unfit now to be any man's wife. Indeed, she is
indignant that Austin should imagine she would accept his tardy
reparation. Her brother, Anthony Musgrave, a hot-headed youth,
" cornet in the Prince's Own," learns from the talking of Barbara
Ridley, her maid, of his sister's fall, and calls her seducer to account.
In the presence of a " Royal Duke " and the fashionable world
assembled on the Pantiles, Tunbridge Wells, Anthouyinsults Austin,
and then strikes him. The Beau, determined to prove how sincere
is his repentance, accepts the insult, pleads in extenuation of the
young fellow's anger that he had misconceived his (the Beau's)
conduct, inasmuch as he had offered himself to Dorothy, but that

DEC. i, 1890. J OUR PL A Y-BOX. 281

she, rightly considering him unworth}-, had refused him. Dorothy,
convinced now that she is truly loved, kneels at her lover's feet, and
accepts him. The repentance of Austin, and the change in Dorothy's
feelings, are too sudden. As a work of literary merit, and as a
faithful reproduction of the dress and manners of nearly a century
ago, " Beau Austin " should be seen by all. No better example of the
" Beau " of the period could be found than in Mr. Tree, whether as
to dress, courtliness, or deportment. Mr. Edmund Maurice is good
as the young military blood of the day, and Mr. Brookfield is
excellent as the old valet. Mr. Fred Terry is a fine manly young
fellow. Mrs. Tree is tender, but wants power. Miss Rose Leclercq has
a comparatively thankless part as a lady who lives in the recollection
of her former conquests, and not without hope that she may achieve
more, but makes it amusing. Miss Aylward was not only a pleasing
little waiting-maid, but showed considerable strength. For such
occasions as Mr. Tree's "Monday nights" "Beau Austin" would
probably prove acceptable a few times, but it would have to be much
strengthened to become a lasting attraction.

"MY FRIEND JARLET."

Original Play, in one act, by ARNOLD GOLDSWORTH\ and E. B. NORMAN.
First proluced in Lon Ion ac Terry's Theatre, Wednesday evening, November 5, 1890.

Paul Latour Mr. HKXRY DANA. I Prussian Officer .. .. Mr. A. WKLLKSLEY.

Emilie Jarlet .. .. Mr. JULIAN CROSS. I Marie Leroux .. .. MissELixoRELEYsnoN..

This little piece was done by the "Old Stagers" during the
Canterbury Week of 1887, and Mr. Terry soon after purchased the
rights of it. It is rather strong for a one-act drama. Jarlet is a
scamp who has been living on Latour, a rich young fellow of good
family. The two are shut up in a village near Paris by the Prussians,
the action of the play occurring during the Franco-German war,
1870. In the house where they are staying is Marie Leroux, an
humble girl, with whom Latour falls in love and proposes to marry.
As his settling down will not suit Jarlet, he points out to him that
ill-assorted marriages seldom turn out happily, and quotes his own,
showing how he wedded beneath him, soon got tired of his wife, and
left her and her child. Presently he questions Marie as to her
antecedents, and discovers that she is his own daughter. He is so
shocked at his conduct in trying to destroy his child's happiness that,
to make amends, he goes as a substitute for Latour, who has drawn a
lot which sentences him to be shot with others for taking part in a
sortie. Julian Cross acted with rugged force in the principal
character, and Miss Leyshon was sympathetic.

" SMOKE."

Comedietta, by B. WEBSTER, 3 vs.
Revived at the Opera Comique, Thursday evening, November 6, 1800.

Rueben Armstrong . . Mr. R. S. BOLEYN.
James Brown .. .. Mr. COMPTOH COCTTTB.

Ellen Armstrong . . Miss CISSY GRAHAME.
Abigail Armstrong . . Miss M. A. GIFFARD.

Mr. Richard Burton . . Mr. W. LESTOCQ.

This is scarcely of sufficient importance to appear in THE THEATRE
Play-Box, but that the play is interesting from the fact that it was
first produced at the Adelphi, December 26th, 1870 ; with John
Billington as Armstrong, Mrs. Billington as Abigail, Miss Furtado as
Ellen, C. H. Stephenson as Richard Burton, and Ashley as James
Brown. It is an adaptation from the French, and depicts forcibly the
change that may be produced in a man by suspicion and jealousy.

282 THE THEATRE. [DEC. 1,1890.

Reuben Armstrong had been a hard-working mechanic, a total
abstainer, and fond of his wife and home. Gradually he becomes
dissipated, loses his situation, and is rapidly going to the bad alto-
gether. His old master, Richard Burton, just returned from the Cape,
discovers the reason. Reuben believes that Ellen, whom he looked
upon as all that was good and pure, has had a child before her
marriage to him, and that her constant absences from home, and
the disappearance of her various little trinkets for the support of the
child, are accounted for by this. He does not let his wife know his
suspicions and therefore she cannot understand the change in him,
but remains gentle and kind, trying to win him back. The mystery
is explained. The child that Ellen visits is an illegitimate one of
her dead sister's, who had made her promise that the secret of her
fall should not be made known. Abigail Armstrong is a cheery,
hard-headed creature who sees her brother's faults and who lords it
over her lowly admirer James Brown, on whom she fathers many of
Reuben's misdeeds, but whom she eventually rewards for his good-
natured compliance by marrying. These two parts were inimitably
played. Mr. Boleyn acted powerfully. Miss Grahame was all ten-
derness, and Mr. Lestocq bluff and kindly. " Smoke " was well
received.

Mr. Eldrcd
Frank Selwyti . .
Jack Sclwyn
Colonel Gunning
Thomas Gurgles..
Joe Gurgles . . . .

"TWO RECRUITS/'

Farcical play, In three acts, by FRANK WY.VTT.
First proJuced at Toole's Theatre, Saturday evening, November 8, 1890.

Mr. A. CUEVALIKR.
Mr. H. EYERSFIKLD.
Mr. \V. (in<K.

Mr. \V. ClIKKSMAX.

Mr. HKXIIV W. BRAMK.
Mr. F. KAVK.

Mrs. Eld red . .
Violet Fane ..
Tricksey
Martha .. ..
Sally Flapper

Miss RUTH RUTLAND.

MiSS V.TllOKXKYi HOI-T.

Miss DELIA CARLYI.K.
Mrs. n. LEIGH.
Miss JULIA SEAM AX.

A more extraordinary piece of work than Mr. Frank Wyatt's "Tsvo
Recruits," was perhaps never seen on any stage. Very laughable at
times, and with a surprise in it, of which the author gives one no
inkling until it comes, and then, like some of the dialogue, not quite
in the best taste. The father of Frank and Jack Selwyn has made
an extraordinary will by which they are left almost completely in
the power of a despicable creature, Mr. Eldred. He has sole
control over their education, pocket-money, &c.; in only one thing is
his authority divided — they may marry if they can obtain his mother,
Mrs. Eldred's, consent, or his. Frank is so disgusted with his treat-
ment and Eldred's endeavour to force on him his shrewish, spiteful
daughter Tricksey, that having to escort Mrs. Eldred (a lady old
enough to be his grandmother) to town, he carries her off to a
registrar's office and marries her. When he returns he has become
Eldred's stepfather, aud reminding one of " Vice-Versa," he lords it
over his quondam tyrant, sends him to bed early, makes him write
impositions, and generally bullies him. Jack Selwyn is engaged to a
romantic young lady who thinks he should do something heroic, and
so he determines to enlist, but from some unexplained cause instead
of doing so he goes into retirement at Highgate for some months,
during which time Thomas Gurgles, who has enlisted under his
name, covers himself with military glory but at the same time takes
unto himself Sally Flapper. This comes to the ears of Violet through
Colonel Gunning, and she is prepared to discard her supposed hero,
when he appears in military uniform — why we know not as he has no
right to wear it — but he explains matters. Violet overlooks his not
having gone to the wars and been thoroughly deceitful and at once

DEC. 1, 1890.] OUR PLAY-BOX. 283

forgives him. Some of the most amusing bits of the play are those in.
which Joe Gurgles and Martha, two old servants, take part. These two
were most excellently played by Mr. F. Kaye and Mrs. H. Leigh.
Mr. Chevalier, who has to represent a Pecksniff in Ids most odious
form, added another clever performance to his eccentric role of
characters. Miss Julia Seaman, too, was very good. Miss Violet
Thorneycrof t played charmingly, and is very pretty. The other parts
were done full justice to.

"CALLED BACK."

Play, in four acts, by HUGH CONWAY and J. COMYNS CARR.
Revived at the Haymarket Theatre, Monday evening, November 10, 1890.

Gilbert Vaughan
Arthur Ken von

The Prince's, 1881.
Mr. KYRLI BKLLKW
Mr. H J LETHCOURT

Hay market, 1S90.
Mr. FHKD TERRY.
Mr. F. KERR.

Anthony March
Dr. Ceneri
Paoli Macari
PetroS

Mr. FRANK RODNEV
Mr. O. W. ANSON
Mr. H. BEERBOII.W TRKE .. .
Mr. S CAFFREY'

Mr. WEBSTER LAWSON.
Mr. FERNANDEZ.
Mr. TREE.
Mr. CHARLES HUDSON*.

Bolski
Russian Chief of (Secret) Police (

Mr. H. CAMERON
Mr. R. DE CORDOVA

Mr. MARK PATOX.
Mr. TAPPING.

Major Markeloff
Captain Varlamoff
Sergeant of Cossacks
Warder Kedric
Nicholas
Woodford
Wolynski
Pauline
Mary Vaughan

Mr. L. S. DEWAR
Mr. ASHMAN
Mr. HENKY PARRY

Mr. SlMMOND.i

Mr. HARCRAVK
Mr. HILTON
Master G. HODGSON

MiSS LlXGARD

Miss TILBURV

Mr. ALLAN.
Mr. ROBB HARWOOD.
Mr. LEITH.
Mr. MONTAGU.
Mr. MARTIN.
Mr. W. ARDEN.
Mr. WIGLEY.
Miss JULIA NEILSON.
Miss BLANCHE HORLOCK.

Mrs. Wilkins
Susan..

Miss C. PARTIES
Miss AYLNVARD

Mrs. E. H. BROOKE.
Miss AYLNVARD.

In the June, 1884, number of THE THEATRE there appeared a
rather exhaustive notice of the first production of " Called Back " at
the Prince's Theatre on May the 20th of that year. The play was a
success then, and brought into prominent notice Mr. Beerbohm Tree.
The revival appears as though it will be as fortunate pecuniarily, and
as establishing his reputation, to the now actor-manager. There is
but little occasion to enter into the plot of a drama which follows so
closely the story that most of us have read. The main incident is in
the first act — (as it is now played ; when first produced it was in
" a prologue and three acts and seven tableaux ") — from where Gilbert
Vaughan, temporarily blind, having followed Pauline to her guardian's
lodgings, comes upon what he imagines to be her dead body, to the
murder of her brother, Anthony March, which has just been com-
mitted by Macari. Later, when Gilbert recovers his sight, he mourns
Pauline as dead, and determines to track down her murderer.
Eventually, finding her still alive but bereft of her senses, he is
led to suppose, through the lies of Macari, that it was her lover who
fell, and that she was dishonoured. Dr. Ceneri, through the betrayal
of Macari, is sent to Siberia, and Gilbert follows him there, ascertains
from him in his dying moments that Pauline is worthy of his love,
and Macari is hunted down and slain by Petroff , another conspirator,
for his perfidy. It will be remembered that in the novel it is an old
nurse who looks after Gilbert in his blindness — in the play, for this
character is substituted a winsome sister, Mary, who marries his
friend, Arthur Kenyon. Granted that Macari's is a showy part, it
would become but a commonplace ruffian in less skilful hands than
those of Mr. Tree, whose every look and action are of relative value
to the situation. Mr. Anson did not play Dr. Ceneri very long, and
was succeeded by Mr. Fernandez, who now once more shows us a
naturally kind and good man becoming almost a plague-spot on

284 THE THEATRE. [DEC. l, 1890.

society through his revolutionary principles, to the furtherance of
which he sacrifices honour, humanity — all. Mr. Fernandez illustrates
this skilfully and with considerable power — his death-scene, a little
prolonged perhaps, being impressive. Tue part of Gilbert Vaughani&
not a new one to Mr. Fred Terry, as he had acted it on tour ; it was
a fine impersonation — thoroughly human and. sympathetic. Mr. F.
Kerr and Miss Blanche Horlock are excellent. Mr. Webster Lawson,
quite a young actor, makes his mark ; and Mrs. E. H. Brooke shows
what can be done when even only a few lines have to be spoken.
Miss Julia Neilson promises to be one of our finest actresses if she
will only guard against a tendency to throw too much force into
strong situations. Up to the last act Miss Neilson's acting was almost
perfection ; then there was a little exaggeration. Experience should
modify this. I am the more inclined to call attention to this, as I
noticed the same tendency to exaggeration when I saw this clever
young actress a second and a third time in " Comedy and Tragedy.'*
" Called Back " as a revival was an undoubted success.

" MAY AND DECEMBER."

Farcical Comedy. In three acts, by SVDNKY GRUNDY.
Produced at the Comedy Theatre, Saturday evening, November 15, 1830.
Sir Archibald Ffolliott Mr. CHAS.BROOKKIE'LD. Lady Ffolllott .. .. MlssXORRKYS.

Jane Miss LYDIA COWKLL.

Dolly MissEnihi, M\

Judy Belsize .. .. Mitt LOTTIB

Captain L'Estrange . . Mr. C. H. HAWTREY

Babblngton Jones .. Mr. J. F. GRAHAM.

Simpson Mr. W. \VVKS.

Telegraph Messenger Mr. A. W. AYSOM.

There is a little history connected with this play. It is taken from
" La Petite Marquise" of Meilhac and Halevy, and was originally tried
at a private performance at the Globe Theatre, September 28th, 1882,
the Licenser of stage plays having refused his permission that it
should be given in public. The adaptation was then made by Sydney
Grundy and Joseph Mackay, and Miss Lydia Cowell played Kathleen
Lady Ffolliott, and asked the audience at the close of the performance
" if they considered it so very awful ? " and though there were some
objectionable features no doubt, still, more risky plays had been
licensed. Under its present title and by the same adaptors, the
piece was done at a matinee at the Criterion on April 20th, 1887.
Mr. Gilbert Farquhar was the old bookworm,the December of the play ;
and Miss Kate Rorke, Kathleen Lady Ffolliott — the May ; E. W.
Gardiner the Captain L'Estrange; W. Blakeley the Babbington Jones ;
Miss Ffolliott Paget the Madeline Fenton (now Judy Belsize), and
Miss Lydia Cowell, as now, Jane. Mr. Farquhar and Miss K. Rorke
were most deservedly highly complimented, but they played the
piece in the vein of pure comedy in which it was then written.
Mr. Grundy has now founded, alone, on the play in which he
collaborated, his present version, which he has endeavoured (I
imagine to suit the requirements of the comedy company) to make
farcical, and I much fear unsuccessfully. Some of his writing is as
bright and clever as any he has furnished us with, but there are some
lines which are not at all in good taste. And then the action is so
uncertain ; at one moment you have an almost pathetic touch in the
strained relation of husband and wife, and then, presto ! — you are
presented with the wildest of farce. Sir Charles Ffolliott is an old
bookworm married to a mere girl, Kathleen, romantic and with a
devotion to sensuous poetry and Ouida's novels. She cannot take an
interest in her husband's antiquarian "researches, and so he, wishing
for her happiness, determines to give her good cause for a separation

DEC. 1, 1890. J OUR PLAY-BOX. 285

by amicably turning her out of doors, at the same time expressing-
the tenderest interest in her well being and telling her to wrap up
well as the night is cold. Kathleen starts with the intention of join-
ing her friend Judy Belsize who has just told her she has a cottage
in Hampshire, and that she is in search of a certain Captain wha
has courted her by the sad sea waves and then run away. This
proves eventually to be Captain L'Estrange, who has also played upon
Katherine's romance and induced her to believe that he cares for her.
When he hears she has gone to Hampshire, he follows her. She-
quite artlessly tells him that she shall soon be free and that then he
can marry her. But he, of course, only wants her as a mistress — and
soon lets her know this. Kathleen comes to her senses— returns home,
and is at first, forgetting her own conduct, quite indignant when she-
hears from the tattle of eavesdropping servants that Sir Archibald
has been " carrying on." However, when it turns out that there is no-
foundation for this, but that it was only her friend Judy who had
been in his company, she prays her husband's forgiveness and he
takes her to him again and burns his magnum opus. The Captain
goes off humming a tune, but Nemesis will overtake him in the shape-
of an action for breach of promise brought against him by the
gushing Judy. This last character has been specially written up for
Miss Lottie Venne, who as an attractive little widow with an eye
to the main chance makes it an amusing one. Miss Norreys had an
almost impossible character to attempt to do justice to ; allowance
must be made if she was not quite successful in it. Mr. Charles
Brookfield was essentially a gentleman, though rather an unworldly
and silly oneas Sir Archibald. Mr. Hawtrey does his best in one of those
light feather-brain parts which he now appears to look upon as his
own. Mr. Graham is humorous as a barrister with one case that is ever
upon the point of being heard. Mr. Wyes and Miss Lydia Cowell
were excellent. " May and December " was but coolly received.

"THE PHARISEE."

Original Play, In three acts, by MALCOLM WATSON" and Mrs. LANCASTEK-WALLIS.
First produced at the Shaf tesbury Theatre, Monday evening, November 17, 1890.

Lord Helmore . . . . Mr. LEWIS WALLER.

Geoffrey Landon . . Mr. HERBERT WAIUNG.

Captain James Darell M. MARIUS.

Mr. Pettifer Mr. JOHN BEAUCUAMP.

Graham Maxwell .. Mr. HENRY V. ESMONO.

Brooke Mr. HERBEHTE-BASING.

Kate Landon . . . . Mrs. LANCASTER-

WALLIS (Miss \Vallis),
Miss Maxwell .. .. Miss SOPHIE LARKIN.

Maud Miss MARION LEA.

Katie Miss MINNIE TERRY.

Martin MissWiNiFREnDENNis-

It is quite possible that considerable discussion will arise as to the-
conduct of the heroine of: the new play at the Shaftesbury. We are
led to suppose that in her youth she fell, not viciously, but from an
imperfect understanding of good and evil. She repented and became-
a good woman. All chance of the discovery of her sin disappears,
yet she feels compelled by the stings of conscience to confess the
misdeed of her past life to the husband who worships her. Would
any woman so jeopardise, in one sense, her future happiness ? My
opinion is that a really good woman, loving her husband, would
confess, as she would know that her secret would be a torture to her
— that she would be unable to endure her life, knowing that while
all the time her husband considered she had been ever pure as snow,,
she was living a lie. In whatever light her conduct may be viewed,
there is no doubt that the authors have maintained the interest in
their heroine (and her husband) to the very last. The audience
watches with intense curiosity the denouement of the plot, and

286 THE THEATRE. [DEC. 1, 1890.

appear to be satisfied with its ending; at least, such was tha apparent
verdict on the opening night. Kate Landon has been brought up by
a bad father, Captain James Darell, amid scenes of vice. Anxious to
$?et away from them, loving him in a sense, and dazzled by Lord
Helmore's specious arguments in favour of " free love," she lives
under his protection for some three months. Then her eyes are
opened to the wickedness of her life. She leaves him and completely
reforms. Geoffrey Landou asks her to be his wife. She commissions
her father to tell Geoffrey of her antecedents. The Captain, to serve
his own ends, divulges nothing, but brings back a message as though
from Geoffrey, that he forgives the past on the condition that it is
never to be mentioned between them. They have been m.irried
eight years, and love each other devotedly, when Lord Helinore,
knowing that he may at any moment die of heart disease, is pricked
by conscience. He determines to provide for the woman he betrayed
in his youth, and that his resolutions may certainly be carried out,
entrusts a packet of her letters and her portrait to his old friend,
Geoffrey Landon, who is to dis3over her whereabouts. Through a
photograph shown him by Mrs. Landon's little girl, Katie, Lord
Helmore learns that the woman he wronged and Kate Landon are
one and the same. Just as Geoffrey is on the point of breaking the
seals of the packet, the contents of which will inform him of his wife's
shame, Lord Helmore steps in and takes them from his hands. The
near approach to discovery is too much for Kate ; she has learnt from
her father how he has deceived her in not telling her husband, and
she feels that she can never accept Geoffrey's affection and trust in
her till he knows all, and so, in an agony of shame, she confesses.
Geoffrey, who has hitherto esteemed her the most peerless of
women, is horrified, and cannot forgive ; for the sake of their child
she shall still live under his roof, but be to him a wife only in name.
Then comes a letter from the, now dead, Lord Helmore, in which he
pleads to Geoffrey for the woman that was betrayed, should Geoffrey
ever meet with her. The heart of the husband is softened ; he looks
into his inner self, sees the hardness and self-righteousness of his
nature, and that he is wanting in " charity." He goes forth for a
time to find it, but before doing so sends by the pure lips of their
little child a message of peace and forgiveness to his unhappy wife
— a message that bears the hope of a reunion of hearts at no distant
date. Mrs. Lancaster- Wallis was very tender, and rose to a great
height of passion in the agonizing scenes she has to pass through,
first where the packet is in her husband's hands, and she tries to
persuade him not to open it, but to entrust it to her to discover the
woman that was to be found ; and afterwards, when she has to
make the humiliating confession at the feet of her husband. Lord
Helmore's character, which has to be played in a most suldued
manner, as the man is supposed to be almost dying before one's very
eyes, was most earnestly and pathetically pourtrayed by Mr. Lewis
Waller. Geoffrey Landon has comparatively little opportunity till
the last act, but then Mr. Waring brought out its characteristics
admirably. M. Marius was a typical roue and scoundrel, but made
love most amusingly to the silly old maid, Miss Maxwell, excellently
played by Miss Sophie Larkin, and Mr. Henry Esmond and Miss
Marion Lea brightened up the play as a pair of young lovers. Miss
Minnie Terry again proved herself the most natural child actress
we have on the stage. It should be added that, in point of literary
merit, "The Pharisee " is much above the average.

DEC. 1, 1890.]

OUR PLAY-BOX.

S87

Mark An
Octavius
M. JEmtt
Sextus P
Domitius
Ventidiu
Eros
Scarus
Meccenas
Proculei
Thyreus
Menas
Varrius
Alexas

tony . . .
Cii?sar .. .
Lepidus
ompeius
Enobarbus.
s

Mr. COG o LAN.
Mr. F. KEMBLE COOPER.
Mr. P. C. BKVEKLEY.
Mr. KENNETH BLACK.
Mr. ARTHUR STIRLING.
Mr. II. DRIICK.

Mardian

Seleucua
A Messenger
A Soothsayer
A Clown
First Soldier
Socond Soldier

Mr. CIIAS. BURLEIGH.
Mr. A. T. HILTON.
Mr. W. S. PARKES.
Mr. HENRY LORAINE.
Mr. WALTER GAY.

Cha'iuian
Iras
D.iy 1 Characte
Night ) the Ince

Cleopatra

•'.•i iii
•lude

Mr. H. YARDLKY.

Mr. STANLEY PRINGLE.
Mr. MAC VICKARS.

"ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA."

Shakespeare's Play, revived, In live acts, at the Princess's Theatre, Tuesday evening, November 18, 1890.

Mr. HARRY FENWICKE.
Mr. H. J. CARVILL.
Mr. OSCAR ADYK.
Mr. ARTHUR MUNRO.
Mr. EVERILL.
Mr. W. CLIFTON.
Mr. A. WATSON.
Miss FRANCES IVOR.
Miss AMY MCNEIL.
Miss F. HAS WOOD.
Miss EMMA D'AuuAX.
Miss MADGE GREET.
and
Mrs. LANGTRY.

Cleopatra, we are told, has been made the leading character in
the drama in " two Latin, sixteen French, six English, and, at least,
four I talian tragedies," and yet Shakespeare's play of " Antony and
Cleopatra" has not been a favourite with managers. There appears
to be some doubt as to when it was first produced. Garrick played,
in 1759, Antony to the Cleopatra of Mrs. Yates, then a young actress,
and neither of them shone ; nor was the play a success, for its with-
drawal took place in a few nights. In Dryden's " All for Love,"
drawn from this source, Booth and Mrs. Oldfield played the princi-
pal characters. In 1813 John Kemble made a hash up almost of the
two plays. Mrs. Faucit was then the Cleopatra. How little Macready
thought of his part, when the play was revived in 1833, was proved
by his almost passing it over in his diary ; Miss Phillips was then
the Cleopatra. Shakespeare's play, in its integrity, was produced at
Sadler's Wells in 1849, and we had the best Cleopatra, perhaps, that
has been seen, in Miss Glyn, who frequently reappeared in the
character. The work was revived by Charles Calvert, of Manchester,
and by Chatterton, at Drury Lane, both with splendour. The latter
was in 1873, and the production so crippled the manager's resources,
that he never recovered from it ; James Anderson and Miss Wallis
(Mrs. Lancaster) were in this the principals. The Drury Lane
revival was the latest until Mrs. Langtry's production. I can under-
stand that the character of Cleopatra should be an attractive one to
such a beautiful woman as Mrs. Langtry, but unfortunately she has
miscalculated her dramatic strength, and neither as she who could
conquer all hearts or as the powerful queen did the actress fulfil the
requirements of the character. Where Mrs. Langtry was not languid
or pettish, she played with undisciplined force, and it was here that
the value of an early and life-long training is so apparent. Mrs.
Langtry wore her own beautiful hair, did not alter her complexion,
and was exquisitely apparelled. The Antony of Mr. Charles Coghlan
will be recorded as one of his greatest successes, from the energy
and passion which he threw into the portraiture of the enamoured
king. Mr. F; Kemble Cooper's appearance and grand delivery of
the text entrusted to Octavius Caesar were the theme of universal
praise. The Enobarbus of Mr. Arthur Stirling was of the old school
and of great elocutionary merit. Of the younger school of actors
who acquitted themselves well must be mentioned Mr. Oscar Adye
as " A Messenger " ; Mr. Charles Burleigh, as Eros ; and Mr. Henry
Loraine as Proculeius. Miss Amy McNeil was an attractive Char-
main, and Miss Frances Ivor a dignified Octavia. It will not be for
the acting, however, that the Princess's production will be specially
remembered, but for the gorgeousness of its pageants. On these,
the expenditure must have been enormous, and the Hon. Lewis

rHE THEATRE. [DEC. l, 1890-

Wingfiald, if he h.vvo erre.l, has done so oa the score of liberality.
The pictures he presents to us in the "Alexandrian Festival" and
the " Triumphal Reception of Antony by Cleopatra " are magnifi-
cent and faithful reproductions of the Eastern displays of the period.
Whilst retaining Shakespeare's text, and only transposing a scene or
two, Mr. Wingfield has given us processions of Egyptian soldiery
and Roman legions, and Egyptian dances in the form of ballet which
feast the eye, but detract from the attention that should be devoted
to the play, which, on the first night, occupied over four hours in
representation. Such pictures as " The Exterior," and " A Hall in
Cleopatra's Palace," " The Banks of the Nile," and the " Interior of
an Egyptian Monument," are in the very best style of scene- painting,
and, with the general accessories, will certainly attract the public
for a time, independently of the merits of the performance.

CECIL HOWAED.

Our Amateurs' Play-Box.

Wellington said that a good leader could take an army anywhere. And
Wellington knew something of fighting, they say. He could have manufactured
a Buonaparte legion or an Old Guard out of a multitude of sandwich men. And,
according to him, so could anyone possessing the stuff a born leader is made of.
Such is the magic of generalship. The Brighton Green Boom Club believe in
the Grand Old Man of Waterloo, and like good disciples they act up to his advice.
First they catch their general and then they cook the goose ha puts them at.
This OP the 22nd of October was " The Guv' nor," their veteran campaigner
being Mr. Tapping. It was not done quite to a turn, but all partook of the dish
with relish and smacked their lips jubilantly. So what more need be said ?
Their "dainty dish" was set before the people, not the people's critical King,
and as they thought it rich and rare, there's an end to the matter. Mr. Leigh
Bennett was the favourite. Old Macclesfield is always a safe draw. The man
who could not be funny in this part could not be funny as Pickwick. But Mr.
Bennett makes more of him than a mere low comedy merchant, and is the more
worthy of praise in consequence, Mr. C. A. Smith, a Thespian and an A.D.C.,
was an excellent chip of the old Butterscotch, playing with ease and naturalness.
Mr. Allen did wonders with Jellicoe, a wretched part ; Captain Toms amused
everyone as Gregory ; and Mr. Mackay and Mr. Bond were happy in their
sketches of the McToddy and a throaty cabman. Mr. Compton and Miss M. B.
Smith,an actress of real humour and talent, were in great favour as the confectioner
and his wife, the mock romance being treated with the earnestness of conviction.
Miss Burnand and Miss Peyton romped through the tiny parts of Kate and
Carrie ; and Miss Forbes brought out all the broad humour of Mr. Macclesfield
with readiness and emphasis. The club's second season without question opens
well.

"In the dear old days of long ago," we were taught that it was a silly thing-
to do, to put new wine into old bottles. And so with plays, uld fashioned
pieces must be played in an old world spirit. Try to be comic and sentimental
in powder and patches, and according to our modern notions, and there will be
the dickens to pay. Look at the object lesson recently stuck before our eyes,
like highwaymen in chains, to scare us from the path of evil. Sure, " As You

DEC. 1, 1890.] OUR AMATEURS' PLAY-BOX. 289

Like It " and " She Stoops To Conquer " in one season were enough to point a
moral and adorn the old old tale of kindly warning and of shrewd advice. But
no ! not enough for the Jackdaws ! who, like lovely woman, stoop to folly and
find too late that they are betrayed. They thrust aside the guiding hand,
11 Don't Know, Don't Care " being the gist of their creed, and they come to as
ignominious an end as "Don't Care "came to. They choose "The Heir-at-Law."
Good. A fine old English comedy, one of the olden time. And they proceed
to play it as modern comedy. Bad, criminal, nearly on all fours with poverty in
being worse than wicked — foolish. For they have good actors among them
" who could an if they would " give point and tone, if not distinction, to some
of Colman's quaint old characters. Whereas, in modern guise, they are as tame
and meek and mild as a crowd of Dolly Spankers. Accepting their reading,
though, Mr. Beveridge can be praised for his more or less gallant Dick Dowlas ;
Mr. Herbert Smith may rest assured that Zekiel was an effective rustic, with
more dash in his little finger than any one of the rest had in his whole body ;
and Mr. McCord may be commended for a funny if subdued sketch of Dr.
Pangloss. He should, however, see Mr. John S. Clarke and learn how the part
should be, not acted, but approached. Mr. Wright had a few good moments ;
so had Mr. Wyatt. Miss Algar has the making of an actress in her. She is
quiet, dignified, and touching. Her Caroline was the best performance in the
piece. And Miss Conroy and Miss Brocklesby conscientiously did their duty
in longer and stronger parts.

Mr. Anstey tells an excellent story of a very good little girl who is magically
dowered by a fairy godmother. Whenever she utters a wholesome moral truth,
a pearl or a ruby is to drop from her lips. And she sets busily to work to
improve the occasion. But unfortunately, when the stones are appraised by a
jeweller, they are found to be bits of coloured glass. The priceless truths she
thought she spoke were shams. The Comedy Club are not unlike that little
girl. They look for a fairy godmother and Mr. Godfrey presents himself. Not
content with that he presents them with " The Parvenu," the fairy gift. And
they proceed to scatter the gems of wit contained in it. feeling pretty sure that
such virtue cannot but be worthy of reward. Well, the play is pretty, and it
flashes and sparkles brilliantly, but it won't stand the critical chemical test. Its
gems are paste, and it's a pity the club should devote itself to wearing sham
jewels, when there are real ones to be had for much the same money. In acting,
the Comedy is always neat and appropriate. Mr. Colley Salter would carry a
far weaker play. He is so alive and magnetic. And his " Parvenu," comic and
serious by turns, is among the best things he has done. Miss Lillian Stone is
not afraid of salt and vinegar, and rubs them in with her manner after using
Lady Pettygrew's tongue for the lash. Mr. Cahill is aicapital Sir Fulke, incisive
and quiet ; Mr. Sharpe gets over those wordy fences of Claud's with no little
dexterity ; and Miss St. Lawrence throws romance enough for two — and it's all
wanted — into her charming picture of romantic Gwendolen. The comedy lovers
are of course a feature, since they are in the care of Mrs. Ernest Renton and
Mr. Bourne. The actress is more expert in the game than the actor, but any-
way they make a happy pair. Mrs. Renton's voice and style are just suited to
Molly, and with a little more colour this would ba a bracing study of the
modern girl.

Falconer wrote a strong, rugged, sturdy melodrama in " Peep o' Day," and it
does amateurs good to try such a thing once and again. Sensation is what we
all hanker after, were we honest enough to admit it. And we are not a bit
more civilised in these diys of prize fighting and African exploration than were
our Roman progenitors who upheld the gladiatorial ring and the human torches
of Nero. A leap from a cliff and a rowdy tussle are to the taste of all, and to
get to them we can wade through a largish quantity of dramatic marshland,
just as we bear with the flotsam and jetsam of civic dignity because of the
gingerbread coach, on Lord Mayor's Day. The Vaudeville Club were, therefore,
sure of giving enjoyment of soma kind when they revived the old play at St.
George's Hall on 'October 30th. Much of their acting was meritorious, and
had they played with greater weight — an! worked the scenic surprises with a
view to sensation — their venture would have been an unqualified success.

290 THE THEATRE. [DEC. l, 1890.

Black Mullins — there's a thrill in the name — was well handled by Mr. Chapman.
He has a voice and uses it : and his gestures come from the shoulders. Mr.
Head and Mr. Wallace were too timid. Doubly forcible and twice the breadth,
they would be very effective. Mr. Hole had collared the accent and that was
half the battle with him ; and Barney O'Toole became a rattling racy fellow.
Mr. King was a priest but not an Irish one ; and Mr. Moore was an officer but
not the English one Falconer drew, as Captain Howard. Mr. Fenton was well
placed as Red Murtough. He knows what melodrama wants and he sees his
part well through. Miss Edith Jordon too is not afraid of work bolder than
comedy and farca. She rises to a scene with r«3al spirit, and ddiuit or
submissive, loving or hating, makes a lovoable heroine and keeps the play
moving.

The ideal is always at variance with the practical. You cannot combine
them. And seeing that the former is outside the domains of the average man,
it was perhaps the wisest course to desert it and cleave to the common sense,
prosaic side of the picture in "Pygmalion and Galatea," privately played at the
Lambeth Polytechnic on the 1st ult. The comely body of that confusing work
can be grasped, the spirit alone is difficult of access. And songs and singers are
out of date. So why waste time in spending pains to strew pearls before the
heathen, to whom glass beads are just as precious, and just as bright. The
Tabard Pilgrims may therefore be excused for turning their backs on poetry,
and sticking like limpets to the — may it be confessed — rather cheap fun. Miss
Tellek has not rested on her oars since last she played Galatea. The perform-
ance is more finished and has more substance in it. The head speaks less and
the heart speaks more. With a dozen repetitions it would be a very interesting
and at times a very charming piece of acting. Mr. Gordelier as Pygmalion is
less the Kendal than the Barnes. He is right, for he wins applause, and the
proof of the pudding is in the eating, whatever our theories may be. But there
is another point of view, that of Art as Art, and here the actor can find room to
reconsider his decisions. Mr. Gordon Young is not bluff and bold enough for
Leucippe, though commendably full of dash and go ; nor is Miss Millie
Duncan, pretty arid sweet, quite the ingenue Myrine is. Mr. Colley Salter is
supremely comical in Chrysos, the easiest part ever written ; and Mrs. Jennes is
a Daphne of sufficient vigour to hold her own against her lord. Miss Dredge,
the Cynisca, has good elocutionary powers and an instinct for acting. With
practice she should succeed in emotional parts.

We all know that there is nothing new under the sun. But that is no reason
why an "original" drama shall be composed of all the odds and ends, the scraps
and tit-bits, of motive, incident, and situation that have done duty in melodrama
any time these forty years. " Foiled," in three acts, by Warwick Buckland, at
St. George's Hall, on October 25th, turned out, of course, the friend of our
childhood, the constant companion of our later years. There is the 'aughty
baronite, mortgaged up to his shirt-collar ; his lovely child, enamoured of a
penniless performer on the tight-rope — Fortune ; and the adventurer, who
demands the daughter's hand in payment of monies advanced, and burgles the
baronet's safe to smother his rival in suspicion. All goes well with the evil one
till the last act is half-way through, when the good young man returns from
Australia with his pockets full of gold and a detective up his sleeve. Then the
adventurer's game is up, he is adorned with bracelets, and led away — Foiled.
Mr. Buckland may do better in years to come, if this is his first attempt, but he
must begin by unlearning all he has learnt, or he never can rise above the
amateur level of play-writing. The Waverley A.D.C., in fact, did not shine
in any department, the playing being, as a rule, crude, timid, and dull. Mr.
Wightwick was creditable as a groom, the second villain, and the author, his
hideous make-up being forgiven and forgotten, was a " heavy man " of weight
and power. Mr. Clark, Mr. Thorpe, and Mr. Wood were also worthy of a little
praise, for they acted conscientiously, and, like the pot-shotted pianist in
Colorado, did their level best. Miss Marie Montague and Miss Shaw, though
amateurish, played briskly, and enlivened to some extent a deplorably dull
evening.

DEC. l, 1800.1 OUR AMATEUR? PL A Y-BOX. 291

The Hampstead A.D.C. have been reading up the life of Mrs. Siddons, and
have, alas, added to their treasury of wisdom the one remark of that estimable lady
that all biographers should have conspired to suppress. " And pray, madam, do
you study those enchanting looks and attitudes before a glass ? " asked one of
her admirers. " I never study anything but my author," was the answer.
" Then you practise them at rehearsals ? " And in tones of muttered thunder
came the fatal reply, " I seldom rehearse at all!" Perhaps a Siddons can manage
without rehearsal (though be it noted an Edmund Kean could not), but it is
quite certain that amateurs can't. And the Hampstead actors should erase that
entry from their book of " Tips from Tragedians," and ascribe it to a gossip's
slanderous tongue. With more rehearsal their " London Assurance " at St.
George's Hall on the 1st ult. would have been capital. But it was all taken in
slow time, the halts and hesitations were often painful, and not until the play was
well forward did they warm to their work and do themselves justice. Then the
clever acting of Mr. Preston and Mrs. Bartrum made itself instantly felt, and
the general impression left was, owing chiefly to their efforts, a good one. Mr.
Preston could not be matched among amateurs as Sir Harcourt, save by Mr.
Colnaghi, who was born to play the part — his very youth and force aiding him
greatly in his sketch of the chirpy old boy. More rehearsal would have rubbed
off a few nasty corners and made it what it aimed at bein£, a consistent and
polished study. Mrs. Bartrum read Lady Gay straightforwardly and down-
rightly. She filled it full of power, and let the part carry her along. It was the
best way, and proved immensely effective. Mr. Teversham, a good actor, did
the same with Max, and reaped the same reward. Mr. Somerville, too, went
with great energy at Charles, a difficult part, and rushed along at a fine pace.
This was a piece of acting to be remembered. The remaining actors may be
bracketed together as badly and sadly in want of more rehearsal, though Miss
Churchill, Mr. Capper, and Mr. Biggs deserved but little blame. All will do
well to read Mrs. Siddons's life again, and note hsr advice to young Ned Kean.

Old friends are the best friends all the world over. And Mr. Biker could
have chosen nothing more popular than " Carmen," unless it were " Faust," to
start his second season of opera and comedy at Kilburn. A thing of beauty
is a joy for ever, and we should as soon grow tired of Bizet's haunting music
as of "Home, Sweet Home" or "The Wearin' of the Green." And so,
judging from its reception, thought all of us. Wonders had been worked with
limited resources in the matter oE space anl scenery. Beautiful costumes
abounded. A full chorus of fifty or so sang and acted — acted, mind ; no shirking
and dawdling — with vigour and dramatic meaning. Lastly, most of the
principals were a long way above the average. Miss Blanche Murray played
. Carmen with fire and fine intelligence, and Miss Kate Johnstone was very
gentle and winning as Micaela. Mr. James Bayne made quite a hit in the
tavern scene, his Escamillo having just the dash and colour required. Mr. Body
sang very prettily, but his acting abilities were scarcely equal to the task of
grappling with Jose's violent moods. Mr. Stalman and Mr. Stratton also won
much favour, the latter by some highly grotesque comedy. Mr. Baker deserves
every success in his spirited enterprise.

" The Antigone " was played in state at the Crystal Palace on the 6th ult.
Mr. Macklin stage-managed, the Guildhall School supplied a chorus, and Mr.
Manns sat at the head of his grand orchestra, to interpret Mendelssohn's
exquisite music. With these advantages the actors and the drama proved more
interesting than they did last season, but still the tragedy is too heavy a
burden. Viscountess Maidstone is very graceful, womanly, and sweet ; Miss
Jenkinson and Mr. Hainsworth are natural ; Mr. Jenner, Mr. Davies, and Mr.
Babington Smith throw spirit into their work, but they do not render Sophocles
intelligibly human. To do this needs trained and gifted actors. The will in
such a case is not the deed. Gentle voices, timid manners, a shy and narrow
style, do not suit the sombre tyrants and their vengeance-breathing victims of
ancient Thebes. Still there is such beauty of face and form and bearing in the
present production, that it would be a pity to sacrifice it. Perhaps the happiest
course would be to retain the present company, confining their efforts to a
tableau vivant representation, and putting the description of their action on the

292 THE THEATRE. [DEC. 1, 1890.

shoulders of the chorus. The performance would then be artistic, and not
wanting in dignity and force.

Statesmen have their relaxations, men whose shoulders bear a load as hea\y
as that on Atlas ; so why not the Crystal Palace A.D.C. Bismarck takes to
Gaboriau as a duck to water when he needs a mental change ; Gladstone feasts
on Stevenson ; and John Morley devours Kipling, Haggard, Collins, anyone
racy and romantic. And these are serious workers, it must be conceded. The
club, then, must not be censured for ceasing, occasionally, to feed on the fair
mountain of Pinero, Gilbert, Grundy, Jones, and Howard comedy, to batten on
this Derrick moor of farce. Men have been driven to Margate from Hyde
Park. The love of change will do even that. And it has made them look
happy over it, too ; as happy as these Athenians over their four nights of
" Confusion," from the 5th to the Hth ult. Little to wonder at, seeing they
play farce so well. For a continuous roar of laughter will keep any actor in
high spirits through the operation. Mr. John Bathurst had most of the work
and did it nobly. Blizzard became a possible old man, of very infectious
humour. And the force behind that humour kept the play going without a
check. Mr. Frankish played cleverly and with dash as the hero, but he saw a
little too much of the joke. A very useful foil for him was the elegant lounger
of Mr. Butler, too promising an actor, though, for such slight work. Mr. Grout
had a character after his own heart in James, which demands exactly the breadth
and stolidity he can give it. Mr. Lacey Bathurst made a mountain out of the
molehill Muzzle by a little naturalness and more experience ; and Mr. Dorman
got great applause for his clever scene as the mad doctor. The actresses were
not, as usual, abreast of the actors. Mrs. Prankish, of course, was good. She
always is. But Rose wants very little playing. So sound an actress is almost
thrown away on such a part. Miss Knewstub can appreciate humour, but is
less at home in giving expression to it. Lucretia, as she plays her, is, neverthe-
less, funny, and with expansion — by practice and coaching — would soon become
a formidable rival to Mr. Bathurst's Blizzard. Miss Condy and Miss Cock were
little more than pleasant make-weights, though the former tried, not without
some success, to give characteristic form to the agonised partner of Jeames
Sans I a Pluche.

Musical Silhouettes.

No. 8.— THE DRAWING-ROOM TEXOR.

HE Drawing-room Tenor is a very pleasant fellow, when he
is not a tenor, in a drawing-room. Get him anywhere
else, you will find him exceedingly harmless and fre-
quently unobtrusively mild. It is only when he is a
tenor that he is almost unendurable.

It seems to be the particular foible of tenors in any
place to find no beauty in any vocal organ but their own.
This, I am sure, does not arise from an overplus of that very desirable
commodity known as self-belief so much as from sheer inability to

DEC. i, 1890.] MUSICAL SILHOUETTES. 293

eee and hear any other voice. Similarly, no method of training, in
the opinion of a pupil of Signor Blank's, is equal to that of Signer
Blank.

After all, this is a very excellent fault. If one is so unfortunate
as to have no believers, it is a great source of consolation to believe
in oneself.

The Drawing-room Tenor is invariably a favourite with the fair
sex, more especially if he can sing those charming little French songs
which mean so very little and imply so much. These he carols forth
in his best style, accompanying himself — the Drawing-room Tenor
likes to do this — and invests with much mystery and meaning.
Occasionally he condescends to sing an Anglicised version of a
French serenade by a comparatively unknown composer, in which
case the words are even more meaningless than they were in their
original language, having been rendered so by the art of the
translator.

He does not care to sing at concerts ; he has a soul above them.
At an "at home" in a drawing-room, surrounded by his lady
devotees, he is at his best ; and the class of song that the concert
givers prefer to place on their programmes, and the concert audiences
to hear, is so vulgar, so extremely commonplace and vulgar : nothing
of the artistic in its composition, you know.

He is usually very spare of build, the Drawing-room Tenor, with
hair arranged in an artistic fashion over his brow. He cultivates the
poetic aspect of some decades since. When London goes out of
town, he goes to Italy, and talks of studying when he returns. He
is also frequently semi-attached to two or three society papers, in
the columns of which his own name appears with considerable
regularity.

He has been known to take part in Amateur Theatricals, lending
his presence, his voice, and his aid to some more or less deserving
charity, and appearing in elegant attire to play the tenor part in a
new operetta by a fashionable lady amateur, in which real ladies of
society form the chorus and the orchestra, and which other numerous
friends and admirers of the F.L.A. sit through amiably at the time,
and criticise freely afterwards.

We must not be too severe on the Drawing-room Tenor ; he is but
a social butterfly after all— one of those products of modern civilisa-
tion which have had their prototypes in all ages. He is not more
artificial than the society of which he is an ornament, and to which
he contributes his outpourings of soul. He does not advertise him-
self more than many much more celebrated men and women who
do, or have done, different things. His metier is modesty, and for
this alone he deserves thanks as well as praise.

But it is certainly indicative of the times that such an atom of
artificiality should be accepted as a paragon of artistic eminence by
well-educated men and women. Veneer has always been fashion-
able ; but it is not usual to lay it on so thinly as to be almost
transparent.

NEW SERIES.— VOL. XVT. n

294 THE THEATRE. [DKC. l, 1890.

However, the Drawing-room Tenor will doubtless serve a purpose
one of these days. The world is less artificial than it was ; men and
manners change rapidly, and it cannot be said for the worse. There
was a time when we were quite content to sing about the bees and
the trees, the flowers and the bowers, and the birds. We have
changed all that, it is true, but we haven't finished changing, nor
have we yet reached ultima thulc,, even aided by the Drawing-room
Tenor and his thin vapourings in a falsetto.

SKMIBKEVK.

Our Musical-Box.

To keep an audience interested, amused, and at home with itself for two
hours, single-handed, is not a light task even for a Society Entertainer. As a
rule, the higher the society, the harder it is to entertain it. I dare say Mr.
George Grossmith found his country audiences much more ready to laugh than
his London one at St. James' Hall recently. A society audience smiles
good-humouredly, but it is not given to laughing. It is all the more a compli-
ment to Mr. Grossmith that so frequently hearty and unaffected — even to
vulgar — laughter was. heard at his first recital. In a manner, though he does
not in the least invite it, Mr. Grossmith brings himself into contrast and com-
parison with Mr. Corney Grain ; and the pair are the north and south poles of
Society Entertaining. Mr. Grossmith is the better actor of the two, while he
has not that delightful way of taking you into his confidence that is Mr.
Corney Grain's happiest manner. From another point of view, Mr. Grain is
satirical where Mr. Grossmith is sarcastic ; as witness his remarks upon the
" Guards " burlesque, which came in for a terribly severe castigation. Yet
again, some of Mr. Grossmith's songs are inferior in quality, " The .Lords and
Commons are Getting Mixed " being quite the best given by him. " The
Noisy Johnnie " struck me as being particularly pointless. " See me Dance
the Polka," apres Tosti and Gounod, was perfect, every trick and mannerism
of the originals being caught and mimicked. But what pleased most of all
was, perhaps, his burlesque of Mr. Irving, who seems so easy and is so
difficult to caricature. In fine, there are not many men who could perform
the feat mentioned, keep an audience amused for two hours, and send them
away without a bored moment or a strangled desire to yawn ; and, after all, if
the sarcasm is sharp-pointed, it is good-humouredly delivered. Mr. Grossmith
is humorous without being funny (in the vulgar sense), sarcastic without being
unkind, and his characterisation, suggestive and imitative, is comic without
ever descending to farcical extravagance ; and these three attributes combine
to make him a Society Entertainer of whom the title is not a misnomer.

Mr. Grossmith asks, " What is the world a-coming to ? " In the adver-
tisements of a small suburban tradesman appear the intimation that the
pianofortes of his customers are repaired and tuned by practical a/rtutnl
suppose the British workman will shortly be superseded by the British artiste.

DEC. 1, 1890/ OUR MUSICAL-BOX. 295

A statue to Bizet has been suggested. It is the way of the world. Ever
since the composer of " Carmen " died fifteen years ago, his fame has been
growing. Had he lived, the world would have waited for him to die before
dreaming of erecting his statue. A man who has given delight to millions
deserves even such ordinary recognition as a statue far more than a monarch,
an explorer, or a politician.

Madame Berfche Marx, whose name is favourably known in the musical world,
gave a pianoforte recital at St. James' Hall, on October 23rd, before an ap -
preciative audience.

On October 27th I occupied one of the third-class-railway-carriage stalls at
Prince's Hall, and heard the " young Belgian pianist," Brahm Tan den Berg.
He certainly plays with fluency and expression, and is unassuming. In age, he
may be anything from ten to eighteen ; his costume savoured somewhat of an
affectation of the youthful. There was nothing very original in his own
compositions, two of which were included in the programme. Only time can
show whether he, or any one of these juvenile performers, will grow into a
great genius.

On November 3rd, another "crowded house'' greeted Senor Sarasate, at St.
James' Hall. The programme included a Saint-Saens concerto, a Mendelssohn
concerto, and a composition of the violinist's own ; and Mr. W. G. Cusins'
orchestra played the " Tannhauser " overture and Grieg's "Peer Gynt" suite.
Sarasate's last concert this season will take place on December 5th.

On November 3rd, at the Albert Hall, Madame Adelina Patti sang two or
three of those things she knows by heart, and was of course encored, her
audience being of that class which loves to get five-shillingsworth for its florin.
The compliment of an encore, under these circumstances, loses all its meaning
by becoming perverted into a clamorous expression of vulgar greed.

Senor Albeniz gave his first orchestral concert at St. James' Hall on November
7th. The audience was small, a fact probably to be accounted for by the weather •
which was not of the most agreeable. An excellent orchestra was that con-
ducted by Senor Breton, but the programme was, if anything, a little too long.
The delicacy of the pianist's touch and his grace of expression are inimitable..
The third movement of iChapi's Moorish Fantasia was encored, and was most
graceful ; but the remainder of the work is anything but original.

CLIFTON BIJTGHAM,

MUSIC RECEIVED FOR REVIEW.

From Forsyth Bros. : " Queen Bess " (danse antique), " Bella Maria" (valse
brillante), " Rays of Love " (poesie), " La Duchesse " (gavotte), and " Danse
des Eperons " (Caprice Hongroise), are five excellent teaching pieces, com-
posed by F. Boscovitz, the formerly well-known pianist. They are fairly easy
and pleasantly written, though somewhat in the American style ; and are at
least, far preferable to the "arrangements" and "fantasias" not long ago so
much in vogue.

CLEOPATRA.

"Methinks I hear

Antony call ; I see him rouse himself
To praise my noble act."

" ANTONY AND CLEOPATHA," Act v. Sc. 2.

From a picture by W. H. ilaryctnon, exhibited in the Royal Academy, 1890.

DEC. 1.1890.J OUR ART GALLERY. 297

Our Art Gallery.

HE importance of the influence of Cleopatra, the beautiful
and voluptuous, upon drama and the fine arts, is ex-
emplified this present year to a more than usual extent.
Three of the few dramatic pictures exhibited in the Royal
Academy symbolized after a manner the Queen of Egypt.
The first, from the studio of W. H. Margetson, represented
the living woman, whilst the second, by the Hon. John
Collier, depicted her death, which occurred in her nine-and-thirtieth
year. Both these pictures were most emphatically distinguished by
treatment and colouring, and powerfully arrested the imagination. The
third portrait was included in Henry Holiday's " Six Fair Women."
As to her dramatic exponents, Mrs. Langtry is at present acting the role
at the Princess's Theatre, whilst her abler sister in the art is essaying
the character in a broad translation of Shakespeare's historical play by
M. Victorien Sardou and M. Emile Moreau_at the Porte St. Martin in
Paris. The biography of this latter great actress appeared in THE
THEATRE, June, 1879, and in speaking of her portrait, by Georges
Clairin, the author says, "It represents her sitting on a couch, in a cloud,
as it were,of drapery. How symmetrical the face, how bright the eyes,
how graceful the sum of all ! " This striking picture now decorates the
wall of the great actress's studio in the hotel of the Boulevard Pereire,
where a delicious atmosphere of art and refined splendour pervades
the whole place.

Sarah Bernhardt has always been the associate of painters and
sculptors. In 1869 M. Mathieu-Meumier induced her to sit to him
for a bust. She attentively watched the process, and criticised the
result with so much taste that the sculptor recommended her to
make an essay in his art. That very night, on her return from the
theatre, she adopted his suggestion, a relative, Madame Bruck, being
awakened from a sweet sleep to pose as a model. In the result, to
quote the above authority, the young actress became an enthusiastic
votary of sculpture, and her first serious work in this direction, a
marble bust of a girl, was exhibited in the Salon of 1873. From this
date it is a matter of common knowledge that she quickly won her-
self a way to considerable fame in the art of plastic modelling, no
less than in those of painting and etching.

We give a reproduction of one of the artist's works, which,
as a specimen of ingenious and poetical grouping, will speak for
itself.

298

': rm-:.\TRE.

[DEC. 1, 1*1)0.

ART NOTES.

By arrangement with the Sunday Society, we understand that the Arts and
Crafts exhibition will be open on Sunday, December 7, from 2.30 to G p.m. to
all holders of those Craftsmen's tickets which have been issued for Monday
evenings. Any of our readers who hold these Monday tickets, and who will pre-
sent them on the Sunday named, will be admitted free. •

SAKA1I BEKNHARDT.

From a picture ly O'eorgcs Clairin.

The Hanover Gallery has two excellent works by Corot — " La Famille aux
Champs,'' and a landscape. Rosa Bonheur's study of a lioness, " The King's
Mate," is not one of her finest efforts. Courbet is represented by " A Ravine,"
and a " Lake Scene in Switzerland ; " Munkacsy by a very strong picture, " A

DEC. 1, 1890.]

OUR ART GALLERY.

299

Waif," and Diaz by a " Wood Nymph." There is a very large and interesting
canvas, " Toilet of a Russian Bride," by Constantine Makowsky, and works by
Isabey, Brandeis, Campotosto, and Munger are good examples of their art.

At Messrs. Tooth & Son's Gallery the most noticeable pictures in an ex-
cellent collection of 120 are Lhermite's " The Blaze of Noon," Bastien Lepage's
" The Thames at Blackfriars," Girardet's " A Difficult Passage," B. W. Leader's

THE YOUXG GIRL AND DEATH.

From a painting by Sarah Bernhardt, exhibited in the Paris
Salon, 1S80.

" At Whittington, Worcester," Alma Tadema's " The Promise of Spring,'
James Webb's " An Easterly Wind, Broadstairs," Sir John Millais' " Pomona,'
and a " Venetian Water Carrier," by De Blaas.

The St. James' Gallery is occupied by the collection of pictures in black and
white which Mr. Mendoza has got together with much judgment. Prominent
among them is Arthur Wardle's "Jezebel, She is a King's Daughter "; a
wonderfully small drawing of " The Ashmoolean Museum, Oxford," and E.
Caldwell's etching, " Hard Times."

The Grosvenor closes its career for the present as an exhibition Gallery, with
a collection of pastels, which is deserving a visit, although the French artists

200 THE THEATRE. LDEC. l, 1890.

are not so much in evidence. J. E. Blanche has a striking portrait of " Madame
Bordes Pi-ne at her Piano," and Fernand Khnopff a well-grouped picture of
•"Lawn Tennis"; Miss Florence Small is best represented by "My Lady's
Garden," and H. Muhrman by " A Bosquet," George Clansenby by " A
Sheepfold, evening," William Stotts by '• A Freshet." J. F. Raffaeli, H. S.
Tuke, Ernest Sichel, Mrs. Jopling, T. B. Kennington, Henry Fanner, J. M.
Swan, and Mdlle. Anna Billinska are well represented.

The Dord Gallery which has so long attracted lovers of the beautiful in art,
with Gustave Dore's marvellous pictures of " Christ Leaving the Pnetorium,"
" Christ's Entry into Jerusalem," the " Ecce Homo," " The Night of the
•Crucifixion,'' &c., has been strengthened by the addition of Mr. Edwin Long's
new pictuie, " The Market Place at Nazareth," a large canvas, depicting truth-
fully and in vivid yet harmonious colouring the phase of Eastern life which it
represents.

Strange to say the greater proportion of the walls of the French Gallery is
covered by some of the best work of one of our most celebrated artists, B. W.
Leader, A.R.A., no less than forty-five out of the lOOpictures being the produce of
his brush. Among them are ten which have kindly been lent by their happy
possessors. It is impossible to enter into detail of their artistic excellence;
every lover of painting should judge of them for himself. In the gallery are
also to be found some excellent examples by Professor K. Heffner of our
" Thames Scenery," a strong picture " Awakened Jealousy,'' by Professor C.
Kiesel ; " A Street in Cairo," by J. W. Waterhouse, R.A., and " A Village
Smith," by Ed. Allan Schmidt, a highly-finished painting.

Mr. McLean's Gallery has but fifty-six pictures on view, but they are all of
very great merit. Among them may be singled out Ch. Wilda's " The
Fete of the First Born," a Cairene scene ; Rosa Bonheur's horse picture, " A
Bright Day on the Prairie ;" B. W. Leader's "Mount St. Michael ;" a very
luminous picture, "Gate of the Great Mosque of Damascus," by G. Bauern-
feind ; a gem by N. Diaz, " A Glade, Fontainebleau ;" two pictures by Wim-
peris (33) and (49) : Groeguert's " An Interesting Story," and some of J. W.
•Godward's Roman subjects, in which he is following closely on Alma-Tadema.

The Royal Society of British Artists has a very interesting exhibition. It is
only possible to mention a very few of tte canvasses, which number 580.
Poetry is represented in a portrait of " Lord Tennyson," by G. F. Watts, R.A. ;
the drama in " Desdemona," by G. Sheridan Knowles, who has also a picture of
"Enid," and in "Play up, Surrey," by Geo. Roller, in which will be found a
portrait of Mr. Reeves-Smith, the clever young actor. A picture which
displays considerable character is that named "Old Chums," by Theodore Cook,
though the execution is wanting in finish. " An Old Bachelor," an owl perched
solitary on a tree, bears a striking resemblance to a crabbed human being.
" Held by a Thread," is somewhat conventional by Charles E. Marshall, but
attracts notice. The sea paintings are remarkably numerous and good ; among
them may be mentioned " L'Epave," by S. M. Laurence, Ayerst Ingram's
"Entrance to Falmouth Harbour," and F. Brangywn's, "We Therefore Commit
His Body to the Deep." One of the cleverest works is " The Subscription Ball,"
by Theodore Cook.

There are not so many pictures this season as are usually shown at the
Institute, nor are even these above the average. The President, Sir James
Linton, exhibits two pictures, >" Gathering Apples " and " The Empty Nest."
Mr. Solomon J. Solomon has an excellent portrait of his mother. " The
Arrest of Charles Darnay," by Joseph Skelton, from Dickens " Tale of Two
Cities," is dramatic in treatment. " The End of the Game," a duel to the
death between two gamesters, by John C. Lomax, is effective. Walter Good-
man has not given a very flattering likeness of Mr. Lionel Brough (145). T.
B. Kennington sends three pictures, (223), (557), (653), all excellent, -the second
" The Red Fan," is charming. " Sweet Silence," by J. Haynes Williams (257)
is pleasing. R. Beavis has a well drawn picture of " The 15th Light Dragoons."

DEC. 1, 1890.] OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. sol

Henry ;j. Stock's " The Release," a disembodied spirit, a tall nude figure, is well
modelled. Edwin Haye's '• Tantallon Vast," is in his best style. J. Yates
Carrington has a characteristic picture in his old favourite " Teufel's First
Taste of the Fine Arts." Keeley Halswelle's " Early Moonrise, Venice,1'
Herman G. Herkomer's '; The Bookworm," and M. Wimperis' " A Cottage on
the Common," are all worthy of attention. " Love's Language," an Eastern
subject, by James Clark, " Whispers," by Ethel Wright, J. J. Shannon's rather
extraordinary portrait of the little boy, " Hugh Christopher Tower," and
Arthur Hacker's " His Daughter's Bairn," are all possessed of interest.

Our Omnibus-Box.

The THEATRR ANNUAL will again this year be incorporated with the January
1891, issue. It will contain contributions from a considerable number of the
leading actors and actresses of the day, and will be profusely illustrated.
Amongst other attractive pictorial features will be included some groups from the
successful plays now performing in London. The attention of our readers
is invited to the fact that they cannot order too early of their booksellers, as
much disappointment was caused last year to many would-be purchasers by
the running out of print two days after publication of this popular Annual ;
and it is not the intention of the publishers to issue a second edition this year.

We have no desire to hold up " The Pharisee " as a model play, for it is
nothing of the kind, but there is room for protest against the standard of criti-
cism adopted in various quarters. It is distinctly unfair to invite comparison
not only with what Sardou has done, but with what a critic, enthusiastic in his
belief in Sardou's infallibility, believes that his hero might do. The critic
may. and does, assert a great deal ; but he would meet with a greater measure
of credit if he would reveal the methods of compression that command his
rather indefinitely grounded admiration.

It is easy enough to say that Sardou would have done this, that, and the
other ; but who is the critic, however enterprising, who would go beyond the
declaration that the French dramatist would do so-and-so, and say how he
would do it ? That man would be critic no longer. Journalism would lose a
shining light, and dramatic art would gain a neophyte of exceeding promise.
Who could have imagined that Sydney Grundy, then an unknown writer, could
have boiled Scribe's three acts down into " In Honour Bound," a work which
will go down to posterity as a surpassing example of an English dramatist^
power of compression — a play that deserves to rank as a classic, because it is
perfect in itself, telling a strong dramatic story without an unnecessary
character, and without a line or a word that could be omitted, except at the
expense of the symmetry and completeness of the whole.

Perhaps, then, judged by what Sardou, in the opinion of a distinguished
critic, might do, and Sydney Grundy, in his happiest moment, has done, " The
Pharisee " has to sing exceeding small. There are many reasons why the play
Miss Wallis and Mr. Malcolm Watson have written together should not be ex-
posed to so severe a test. There is no need to contrast it, on the one hand,
with the overwhelming success of " Judah" and " The Middleman," nor, on the

302 THE THEATRE. [DEC. l, 1S1K).

other, with that nauseous abortion, "The Sixth Commandment." Indeed, there
are many reasons why "The Pharisee" should appeal to us for more than
common praise. Admitted, that the last act is unnecessary, judged by any
lower standard than that of Sardou, an acknowledged mister of his craft, the
final situation in the second act is worked up with remarkable skill and a
great deal of power. True, that to the practised mind, at least, the opportune
return of Helmore, and his demand for the re-delivery of the packet, present
themselves as a rather obvious way out of the difficulty. It cannot be too often
or too forcibly repeated that it is in the occurrence of the possible and the
easily foreseen that the dramatist may win his most legitimate triumphs, rather
than in the unnatural and improbable creation of convenient, if ingeniously
contrived, coincidence ; and the greater is the credit in the present case to the
authors for having produced so absorbingly powerful an effect without any
straining of their privileges.

The best possible ending, we conceive, should have taken place a few lines
before the curtain in the second act. When Helmore, who, we know perfectly
well is going away to die, turns to the woman he has wronged, and, as though
speaking of an absent person with the details of whose case she is acquainted,
gets an affirmative answer to his question whether the injured one could
forgive him, the play is over, and the curtain might well fall on the timid part-
ing clasp of her hand on his, her husband standing by still and, for ever, happily
unconscious of the heart tragedy just ending. For ordinary dramatic purposes,
there is no reason-why he should know. Her share in the deception, as in the
original sin, has been so small and so innocent as to be almost inappreciable ;
indeed, the most serious fault is her perfectly natural reluctance to lay bare her
heart when she finds out that she has been the guiltless partner in her father's
deception of her husband, and that the terrible truth must come out with the
added suspicion that she had wilfully entrapped the man she loves, and who
has trusted her without reserve. Surely a consciousness of her early sin should
be punishment enough, even without the days and nights of the agony of dread,
of detection, and shame in the eyes of her husband and child. The cause of the
evil fades away from sight and life, and it is cruel to the husband to destroy his
faith by opening his eyes to the bitter truth, and. in his suffering, there is
further punishment for the unhappy woman, already overwhelmed with woe.

But the stern morality of the dramatist infected with the Ibsen virus requires
a higher and less comfortable standard, from which commonplace audiences
suffer in common with the characters. No form of deception can be innocent,
and the playwright demands to the last ounce his pound of flesh in tho way of
relentless retribution for sin. It is nothing to him that even people of the
highest, or all but the highest morality, would shrink from a self-crucifixion
involving others in an equally poignant and shameful penalty. This woman
has been brought up amongst the vilest of the vile, but love, wifehood, and
maternity have so purified and ennobled her that all are forgotten, or far too
conscientiously remembered, when the shadow of a lie falls upon her from which
she can only cleanse herself by embittering, if not shattering, the lives of those
she loves most dearly. A lofty morality, no doubt, but just a little above the
level of the ethical understanding vouchsafed to the " plain man." The erst-
while soiled dove has become a little

" Too brlpht and good
For human nature'n daily food."

At the eame time, this is ten thousand times better than the tinsel London
Journal cant of virtue to be found in the melodrama which has just preceded
"The Pharisee " at the Shaftesbury. The fault tends in the higher and better
direction, while in developing that idea, as, indeed, throughout the play a
strenuous and successful effort has been made to preserve an excellent literary
tone, which must have been to some extent sacrificed in anj serious attempt to
reduce the play to a single act. We do not get so many plays of respectable
literary and dramatic calibre from comparatively untried dramatists that we can
affect to disparage their productions by applying an unduly severe standard of
criticism, although the application of such a standard must in some sort be
regarded as a compliment to the authors.

DEC. i, 1890.1 OUR OMNIBUS-BOX. 303

If one may judge from the printed reports of Mr. Henry Arthur Jones's lec-
tures on " The Art of Being Rightly Amused at the Play," that gentleman
incurs a strong suspicion of being in the same boat with many another craftsman
who has attempted to make clear to others the secret that has come so easily to
him. The gentleman who during the practice of his art glibly tells his audience
" how it is done," is rarely as clear in exposition as he is expert in execution,
and generally winds up by leaving his hearers more muddled than before.
Something very like this seems to be the case with Mr. Jones. The one portion
of his subject (which, of course, includes a considerable disquisition on play-
writing) on which the lecturer is most emphatically earnest is that on which he
is most hopelessly obscure. The pity is the greater since this relates to a secret
which has puzzled dramatists in all ages. To what extent is the playwright
bound to draw upon the realities of life ? Any person of average intelligence
might very well be defied to gather from Mr. Jones's utterances what Mr.
Jones's opinions are upon this all-important subject, since if the sp*eaker intends
his words to bear the meaning ordinarily assigned to them by ordinary people,
he flatly contradicts himself. If one might presume to the extent of trying to
read between the lines of these enigmatical deliverances, we fancy that Mr. .
Jones is simply telling us over again what we knew before, that it is the spirit of
realism we want to get, and that the mere externals are nothing. But how to
procure the one and assign due prominence only to the other ? That is the
question Mr. Jones can answer far better in his admirable plays than he can, or
•does, on the public platform. But then there are such things as valuable trade
secrets, so that if he could perhaps he would not. But we will forgive him any
reticence on that score if he will continue to illustrate his principles in action.

" In Chancery," Mr. A. W. Pinero's eccentric comedy, was revived at Terry's
Theatre on Saturday, November 22, with Mr. Edward Terry in his original
-character of Montague Joliffe, and supported by what should prove a very
capable cast. The piece is a very laughable one, and should draw good houses.
It will be fully noticed next month.

New plays produced, and important revivals in London, from October 16,
1890, to November 19, 1890.

(Revivals are marked thus'').
•Oct. 25 " Gipsies," operetta, in one act, libretto by Basil Hood, music by

Wilfred Bendall. Prince of Wales'.
25 " Foiled," three act drama, by Warwick Buckland. St. George's

Hall.
„ 27 " Mystery of The Seven Sisters," four act drama, by F. A Scud-

amore. Surrey.
„ 27° " Divor^ons," three act comedy, by Sardou and De Najac ; French,

plays. St. James's.
„ 28 '' Monsieur Moulon ; or, The Shadow of Death," four act play

adapted from the French by Charles Hannan.
Nov. 1 " Sunlight and Shadow," original three act play, by 11. C. Carton.

Avenue.
„ 1 " Falsa Witness " (same as produced at New Cross Hall, October

28). Parkhurst Theatre, Holloway.
f, 3 " Beau Austin," four act comedy, by W. E. Henley and Robert

Louis Stevenson. Haymarket.

„ 3 to 8s " Les Revoltees," one ac*;, comedy, by Edmond Gondinet.
" °L'Autographe," oneact coiuedy, by Henri Mielhac. "°Lolotte,"
one act comedy, by Meilhac and Halevy ; French plays. St.
James's.

5 " Returning the Compliment," comic operetta, in one act, written
by Otto Waldau and F. Grove Palmer, music by Henry J.Wood.
Park Hall, Camden Towo.
}} 6° " Smoke," comedietta, by Benjamin Webster, Junr. Opera

Comique.

8 " Two Recruits," original play, in three acts, by Frank Wyatt*
Toole's.

S04 THE THEATRE. [DEC. l,

. Nov. 10 " L'Ami des Femmes," five act comedy, by Alexandre Dunns ;
French plays. St. James's.

„ 10° " Called Back," play, in four acts, by Hugh Conway and J. Comyns-
Carr. Haymarket.

„ 15 " May and December," farcical comedy, in three acts, founded by
Sydney Grundy on his joint adaptation with Joseph Mackay of
" La Petite Marquise, " of Moilhac and Halevy. Comedy.

„ 16 " Puck," fairy extravaganza " after dinner " version of a " Mid-
summer Night's Dream." Lyric Opera House, Hammersmith.

„ 17 " The Pharisee," original play, in three acts, by Malcolm Watson
and Mrs. Lancaster- Wallis. Shaf tesbury.

„ 19 " Antony and Cleopatra," Shakespeare's five act tragedy. Princess's.

In the Provinces, from October 1G, 1890, to November 18, 1890.

Oct. 23 " The Dark Past," four act melodrama, by Frank Price. T.R.,

Barnsley.
„ 25 " Our Tutor," farce in one act, by Abbey Wood. Assembly Rooms,

Leytonstone.
„ 27 " Dolly," comic opera, in two acts, book by John Bannister, music

by Herr Pelzer. H. M. Theatre, Carlisle.
„ 28 " False Witness," four-act drama, adapted by Arthur Shirley and

Maurice Gaily from the French. New Cross Public Hall.
„ 31 " The Workbox," one-act play by Tom Craven. T. R. Worcester.
„ 31 " Baby " ; A warning to mesmerists, one act play, by Lady Violet

Greville. T.R., Brighton.
Nov. 7 " Her First Appearance," monologue, by Haslingdeu Russell.

Royal Court, Liverpool.
„ 8 " Matrimony," four act comedy-drama, dramatisation by Charles

Cameron of Wilkie Collins's " Man and Wife." New Cross Hall.
„ 13 " My General," original comedy, in three acts, by Stephanie

Forrester (Mrs. Colonel Thompson). The Royal, Ryde, I.W.
„ 17 " Hymen Wins," whimsical absurdity, in one act, by Wilford F.

Field. Public Rooms, Southall.
„ 18 " The Widow," three act farcical comedy, by A. G. Bagot. Windsor

Theatre.

In Paris from October 14, 1890, to November 18, 1890

Oct. 16 " Le Depute Leveau,'' four-act comedy, by Jules Lemaitre.

Vaudeville.
„ 20 "Le iMaitre ; a study of peasants," in three scenes, by Jean

Jullien. Nouveautes.
„ 23 " Cleopatre," five act drama, by Victorien Sardou and Emile

Moreau, music by Xavier Leroux. Porte St. Martin.

„ 27 " Ma Cousine," comedy, in three acts, by Henri Meilhac. Variety's.
„ 30 " Romeo et Juliette," drama in five acts and in verse, adapted from

Shakespeare by Georges Lef evre, music by Francis Thome. Odeon.
Nov. 5 " L'Age Critique," five act play, by Arthur Byl. Menus Plaisirs.
• „ 8 "L'Egyptienne," spectacular comic opera, in three acts, book by

M.M. Chivot, Nuitter and Beaumont, music by Charles Lecocq.

Folies-Dramatiques.

,, 11° " La Parisienne," three act comedy, by Henri Bocque. Franeaia.
„ 12 " Miss Helyett," operetta, in three acts, book by Maximo

Boucheron, music by Audran. Bouffes-Parisiens.
„ 18 " Dernier Amour," play in four acts by Georges Ohnet. Gymnaa'e.

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