_>m_fiVn-n n-Ji n- 
 
 ENGLISH LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 No. 
 
 
THEATRICAL NOTES. 
 
or THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 or 
 
THEATRICAL NOTE 
 
 
 
 JOSEPH KNJGHT 
 
 LONDON 
 LAWRENCE & BULLEN 
 
 16 HENRIETTA STREET, COVI : DEK 
 
 1893 
 
THEATRICAL NOTES 
 
 BY 
 
 JOSEPH KNIGHT 
 
 \ 
 
 LONDON 
 LAWRENCE & BULLEN 
 
 16 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN 
 1893 
 
-an 
 
 ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS. 
 

 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THE substance of the following work has appeared 
 in the Athenczum, from the pages of which periodical 
 it is with permission reprinted. It does not aim at 
 supplying a full chronicle of the London stage during 
 the period which it covers, notices of very many 
 pieces of ephemeral nature or interest having been 
 excised. Should this contribution to stage history 
 prove acceptable, materials are in hand for a second 
 volume, which will bring the matter up to date and 
 link the drama of Byron, Wills and Albery with 
 that of Mr. Pinero, Mr. Henry Arthur Jones and 
 Mr. Grundy. Notices of French performances in 
 London occupy a portion of the work larger than 
 may perhaps appear desirable. It must be remem- 
 bered, however, that the renascence of acting and of 
 interest in the stage which the present generation 
 has witnessed is to some extent due to the education 
 afforded the public by the visits of foreign companies 
 of world-wide renown, and the consequent demand 
 for acting, which, though common now, a generation 
 ago was not to be obtained. 
 
 1 24262 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THE average of a generation is held to be somewhat 
 over thirty years. During that period the writer of 
 these notes has watched with close interest the pro- 
 gress and development of the stage in England. 
 Thirty years constitute a long time as regards human 
 observation and artistic progress. The first thirty 
 years of the acted drama carry us from Ferrex and 
 Porrex or Gammer Gurton's " Needle " to Marlowe's 
 "Edward II."; another " generation " gives us the 
 first folio Shakspeare. As civilisation proceeds, 
 alteration is less evident. None the less, the last 
 thirty years of the English stage have witnessed 
 more than one change, amounting practically to 
 revolution. Public interest in things theatrical, at 
 the outset slumbering and apparently extinct, has 
 flamed out afresh. The dramatist, once the most 
 underpaid of literary craftsmen, has now the ball 
 at his feet, and new theatres in the parts of London 
 suited to their growth rise like exhalations. 
 
 Such menace as the prophets of evil see in the pre- 
 sent unprecedentedly prosperous state of affairs comes 
 from within rather than from without, from the 
 exacting vanity which the exercise of the most 
 dangerous of callings is apt to breed, and from the 
 intolerance of censure and discipline fostered by 
 continuous success. If any external peril seems to 
 
viii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 be dreaded it is that the public, in its emancipation 
 from restraint and its enjoyment of privilege, should 
 grow disposed to seek amusement at any cost, and 
 to balance the attractions of a well-managed music- 
 hall against those of some ill-managed theatres. 
 Of this before-mentioned "generation" the second 
 decade is, roughly speaking, that undertaken in the 
 present survey. It is, so far as regards the stage, a 
 period of new birth. The breach with the traditions 
 of an unambitious and irreverent past began with 
 the opening by Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft in 1865 of 
 the Prince of Wales's Theatre in Tottenham Street, 
 and the production of the early comedies of T. W. 
 Robertson. Fortune smiled from the first upon well- 
 directed effort, and a venture involving some elements 
 of extreme risk had a success beyond the dreams of 
 those by whom it was made. 
 
 From the moment it succeeded, a return to, or a 
 continuance of, what had before been seen became 
 impossible. Ruin speedily drove from the London 
 stage the manager who could not benefit by ex- 
 perience. Into the merits and defects of the 
 Robertsonian comedy, accepted from the outset by 
 the public, disputed step by step by critics of a 
 certain order, called by damaging nicknames not 
 yet wholly forgotten, there is no need to enter. 
 Nothing prettier or more healthful has replaced it, 
 and the most conspicuous of subsequent popular 
 successes have not seldom emanated from men who 
 have had the feeling or the courage to go back to 
 the Robertsonian style. 
 
 Still better days were in store. The Franco- 
 
INTRODUCTION. IX 
 
 German War, disastrous in its influence on France, 
 led to the visit to England of the Comedie 
 Fran^aise, a visit unremunerative at first but after 
 a while successful and potent in influence. Familiar 
 enough with foreign art was a section of playgoers. 
 Memories of Rachel, of Bouffe, of Lafont, of Ravel, 
 and of Ristori still linger. These and other great 
 artists had, however, appeared as "stars" and had 
 not seldom been supported by scratch companies of 
 the most unsatisfactory description. When it first 
 came to London the Comedie Franchise, which had 
 naturally fallen on evil days, and was driven to a 
 policy of retrenchment as well as to banishment, 
 brought with it a limited number of its best actors. 
 Men of highest position and of world-wide reputa- 
 tion were compelled accordingly to accept the 
 smallest roles, sometimes, indeed, those of mere super- 
 numeraries. M. Got himself, shortly afterwards 
 doyen of the company, took a part in which he had 
 not half-a-dozen lines to speak. From the moment 
 that the value of ensemble such as was then exhibited 
 was recognised the disgraceful exhibitions previously 
 tolerated could no longer exist. In a representation 
 of an aristocratic hall guests who could scarcely be 
 taken for the friends of the domestics could not be 
 tolerated, and the mimic spectators of a thrilling 
 action could not be permitted to yawn into the 
 gallery or to launch ceillades at the stalls. Again 
 and again the Comedie Franfaise visited London. 
 It was succeeded by the companies of the Gymnase- 
 Dramatique, the Vaudeville, the Palais Royal, and 
 half-a-dozen more Parisian theatres, by the Saxe- 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Meiningen Company and the Rotterdam Dramatic 
 Company, though "last not least" in this splendid 
 list. 
 
 By this time the question of ensemble was settled 
 and even the sleepiest of " personally directed " 
 companies was compelled to make some pretence to 
 adequacy of mounting and cast. So far as regards 
 mise en scene, meanwhile, the lesson had been learned 
 almost too well, and the only thing to be feared was 
 that decorations too artistic and luxurious should 
 detract from the vraisemblance of the scene as 
 when in the house of a country gentleman is pre- 
 sented a collection of treasures only to be expected in 
 a palace. That this difficulty has not had to be faced 
 seems due in part to the fact that the stage and 
 those enjoying it reflect on each other, and that the 
 fashionable world has made haste to overtake and 
 realise the pictures set before it. 
 
 One result that was hoped from the lessons 
 obtained has not been realised. The star system 
 has not been killed, it has not even been scotched. 
 Some consolation, nevertheless, is to be obtained. 
 It no longer pays in London and it has to bury its 
 head in the country. There, even, some modifica- 
 tion has been undergone. It is not the star who is 
 ordinarily acceptable in a country town, it is a piece 
 with the cachet of a London success. 
 
 The question whether we have better actors 
 than we had a generation ago is not easily answered. 
 The very oldest existing document consists of the 
 recorded conviction of a sage that youth in his time 
 had fallen off from its former hig-h estate. This 
 
INTRODUCTION. XI 
 
 complaint was uttered .earlier than the time of 
 Abraham. Since then, if the croakers are to be 
 trusted, one system of continuous decadence and 
 deterioration has prevailed. By this reckoning, 
 men should by this time be " less than smallest 
 dwarfs," and their manners should be lower than 
 those of the brutes. We have, on the contrary, 
 until within comparatively recent days when the 
 obligation of medical science to save the most 
 rickety life was recognised, improved physically, 
 mentally, and morally. Yet the old belief in the 
 decay of morals and manners prevails. It is the 
 same thing with actors. Betterton was supposed 
 to have had his business transmitted from Burbage ; 
 Colley Gibber and the old stagers would not hear 
 of Garrick after Betterton. The Kembles had to 
 establish themselves in the teeth of the ascendency 
 of Garrick, Kean had to fight the Kemble tradi- 
 tions, and other actors to Macready and Irving had 
 to triumph over the menacing spectres of their pre- 
 decessors. A generation ago Benjamin Webster 
 was in his full glory as a melodramatic actor, 
 Keeley and Wright had quitted the stage, and 
 Buckstone was the recognised humorist. Phelps 
 and Charles Kean were the principal tragedians, 
 and Miss Helen Faucit (Lady Martin) still gave 
 occasional revelations of her marvellous powers. Of 
 Webster it may at once be said that his position is 
 in the foremost rank of English actors and that no 
 superior in his line has been seen or is to be hoped. 
 No Juliet or Rosalind finer than that of Miss Faucit 
 has been known, and Buckstone, though his was 
 
xii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 scarcely acting, had the drollest and most cherubic 
 personality in the world ; Mr. David James is not 
 now more unctuous, or Mr. Toole more droll. 
 Wright, meanwhile, according to Macready, was in 
 his best days the greatest comedian he, Macready, 
 had ever seen. Single actors as good as any of 
 these may be mentioned, but superiors to them are 
 not to be found. None the less the acting of to-day 
 is as a whole a wonderful advance upon that pre- 
 viously seen. Charles Kean's conception of an ideal 
 company was, it used to be said, himself, " Ellen," 
 and a corps de ballet. Webster's surroundings were 
 not seldom contemptible, and the phrase "Adelphi 
 guests" remained with a slightly changing signi- 
 ficance a byword. At first applied to supernumer- 
 aries presenting ladies and gentlemen, it was in 
 time transferred to the "dead heads " in the stalls, 
 recognisable by scarlet opera cloaks or borrowed 
 and ill-fitting dress-coats, with whom acting- 
 managers, more careful concerning their own 
 benefits than the prosperity of their employers, 
 flooded the theatres. Such a thing as ensemble 
 was undreamed of and unknown. Performances 
 such as at the Lyceum, the Haymarket, the Garrick, 
 the Criterion, the St. James's, the Court, are the 
 delight of artistic London belong wholly to modern 
 days. Strangely different, moreover, is the consti- 
 tution of the programme. A single piece beginning 
 at eight o'clock and ending at eleven constitutes 
 now the entire evening's entertainment. An open- 
 ing and a closing farce were then indispensable. 
 The playgoer would dine early for the sake of 
 
INTRODUCTION. xiil 
 
 seeing Buckstone and Compton in " Box and Cox," 
 or at a little later period, Toole in the " Area 
 Belle". If there were no farces, two dramas or 
 comedies not seldom constituted the bill. Farce 
 now practically lives, thanks to the genius and 
 energy of one man. Mr. Toole has given the 
 " Spitalfields' Weaver" or " Ici on parle Francais " 
 more times than we are able to count, and is still as 
 acceptable in farce as ever he has been. Farcical 
 comedy, a no less diverting production, has sup- 
 planted farce. The establishment of this seems 
 to date from the success of the " Chapeau de Faille 
 d' Italic," known in England by many adaptations, 
 and notably by Mr. Gilbert's " Wedding March". 
 Vaudevilles on somewhat similar lines had been 
 previously exhibited, but it was this success that 
 applied the spur to the French dramatists who 
 have given us scores of delightful and saucy whim- 
 sicalities, " Les Dominos Roses," " Gavaut-Min- 
 ard et Cie.," and what not. Complaint has been 
 heard of the licence in which authors indulge in 
 pieces of this class. As a rule, on the English 
 stage at least, farcical comedy is skittish rather than 
 indecent, and frequenters of the modern theatre 
 have little of which to complain. The light operas 
 which are naturally associated with farcical comedy, 
 and to which in part the " Chapeau de Faille 
 d' Italic " may be said to have belonged, do not as a 
 rule come into my purview. 
 
 The French drama now as previously exercises 
 a strong influence over the stage. At the moment 
 when these lines are being written, the Comedie 
 
XIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Frangaise has concluded an engagement at Drury 
 Lane in the course of which it has played, in addition 
 to a few classic pieces, half its modern repertoire. 
 A bewitching Italian artist, Signora Duse, has 
 moreover stolen all hearts. Hers is indeed the 
 " sweet neglect " for which Ben Jonson sighed, the 
 
 Face 
 That makes simplicity a grace. 
 
 In exquisite fashion has she shown us how to play 
 Camille (Marguerite Gautier) and Cyprienne Des- 
 prunelles, and how not to play Cleopatra. Not a 
 few of the plays which London has during the last 
 season flocked to see have nevertheless been of 
 home production. At the Garrick, M. Sardou has 
 been represented by " Diplomacy," a version of his 
 " Dora," and at the Avenue M. Ohnet by his 
 " Ironmaster". Elsewhere, however, the outlook is 
 inspiriting. At the Lyceum has been " Becket," a 
 noble drama, by one of the greatest of Victorian 
 or otherwise of English poets. "Hypatia" at the 
 Haymarket is the ambitious production of an English 
 writer, as is "A Woman of no Importance" by 
 which it has been succeeded. "Liberty Hall" 
 and " The Second Mrs. Tanqueray " at the St. 
 James's, "The Bauble Shop" at the Criterion, the 
 " Amazons" at the Court, are all English, as are 
 such lighter pieces as " Walker, London," " Niobe," 
 and " Charley's Aunt". A few Ibsen experiments 
 have to be taken into account in attempting an 
 estimate of the influences to which at the present 
 moment the stage is subject. " The Master 
 
INTRODUCTION. XV 
 
 Builder " has been seen and received with a storm 
 of execration or derision; "The Doll's House." 
 after a fierce polemic, seems to have established 
 itself as an acting play ; " An Enemy of the People" 
 has won its way to the historic stage of the Hay- 
 market. 
 
 The influence of Ibsen upon the English stage 
 is not as yet far-reaching. It is now the less dis- 
 tinctly perceptible. Mr. Pinero's " Second Mrs. 
 Tanqueray " is a study in the Ibsen manner, and 
 more than one of Mr. H. A. Jones' finest dramas 
 has owed something to the teaching of the Nor- 
 wegian poet. In the outcry raised by the production 
 of Ibsen's quaint, absorbing, perverse, and I fear I 
 must add provincial pieces, the strongest and most 
 spontaneous if most unconscious tribute to his merit 
 is paid. The effect of a bad play is weariness. 
 The lover knows well that the hatred of his mistress 
 may be converted into love. It is otherwise with 
 her indifference. A man who inspires such admira- 
 tion and such passion as Ibsen, and who is the 
 subject of nightly discussion and recrimination in 
 literary circles, is not a nobody. My own admiration 
 for much of Ibsen's work is calm, but there are plays 
 of his which profoundly impress me. I have seen 
 " A Doll's House " three times, and " Hedda Gabler " 
 twice as often, and should be glad to see both again. 
 Little remains to be added. Most important 
 dramatic work of recent days is dealt with in the 
 pages that follow, or are in reserve, and there is 
 no temptation to anticipate the opinions expressed. 
 That the stage is in a more flourishing condition 
 
XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 now than any time in the last half of the cen- 
 tury few will deny who recognise that London 
 possesses half-a-dozen theatres able to challenge 
 comparisons with the subventioned houses of the 
 continent. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 Lyceum: "Hamlet". Prince of Wales': "Sweethearts," a 
 dramatic contrast in two acts, by W. S. Gilbert. Gaiety : 
 " Merry Wives of Windsor ". 
 
 MR. IKVING'S career bears some resemblance to that of Nov. 7, 1874. 
 Mr. Fechter, the most distinguished of his immediate pre- 
 decessors in the role he now assumes. Putting on one 
 side those preliminary years which the Frenchman occu- 
 pied in the study of sculpture and in dramatic performances 
 in Italy and Germany, and the Englishman in the pursuit 
 of his profession in the country, and dating the commence- 
 ment of the artist life of each from his appearance on a 
 theatre in Paris or London, w r e find that the two actors 
 commenced in comedy, passed through varying forms of 
 melodrama to the romantic and the poetic drama, and 
 attained the climax in Shakspeare. There is this differ- 
 ence, however, that while Mr. Fechter rose slowly, through 
 successive stages, looking carefully to his foothold, Mr. 
 Irving has gone lightly and easily over the ground, and has 
 reached the summit with but little exertion. 
 
 Since Mr. Irving, in Digby Grant, first won from the 
 public a recognition of his talents in comedy, he has 
 appeared in about half-a-dozen characters, of which two, 
 Mathias in " The Bells," and Eugene Aram, belong to 
 full-blooded melodrama ; three, Philip, Richelieu, and 
 Claude Melnotte, to the romantic ; and one, Charles the 
 First, to the poetic drama. These distinctions may be 
 arbitrary. There is no beating the bounds of the dramatic 
 parishes, and it is not at times easy to know to which 
 
2 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 category to assign a piece. It is, however, clear that most 
 forms of drama which the public taste accepts have been 
 tried by Mr. Irving with more or less success, and that in 
 the end the stage prize has fallen into his hands, and he 
 has played Hamlet before a London audience. 
 
 It would be unfair to assume that the reason why 
 Hamlet is a favourite role with actors is because it is the 
 longest in the acted drama. In spite of a recommenda- 
 tion so powerful, a more difficult and thankless part, so 
 far as the actor is concerned, does not exist. Of all 
 Shakspeare's great plays it belongs most distinctly to the 
 closet. Richard, Macbeth, Shylock, Othello, Julius 
 Caesar, Antony, Lear even, are men of action, whose deeds 
 can be counterfeited with some hope of success. Hamlet 
 is the scholar, and as all like to see the exaltation of their 
 own class, he is the scholar's special favourite. So medi- 
 tative and reflective is he, that Germans have taken him 
 for the type of their nationality, and German criticism has 
 left no aspect of his character unexamined. We might go 
 farther, and say it has investigated a good many phases 
 which have no existence except in Teutonic imagination. 
 So long, however, as every scholar throughout civilisation 
 retains an individual conception of Hamlet, the actor who 
 undertakes to present it will always encounter exceptional 
 risks. 
 
 It does not follow because the risk is great it is not to 
 be challenged. The words of the Marquis of Montrose are 
 true in more respects than one ; and in acting, as in love, 
 
 He either fears his fate too much, 
 
 Or his deserts are small, 
 That dares not put it to the touch 
 
 To gain or lose it all. 
 
 Mr. Irving has put his fate " to the touch," and has come 
 off, if not victorious, at least unshamed. 
 
 To pronounce an absolute and a comprehensive opinion 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 3 _ 
 
 upon the entire performance is a task of extreme difficulty ; 
 to dwell upon the merits and defects of single scenes or 
 passages is one that might prove endless. Our endeavour 
 is confined accordingly to mentioning a few prominent 
 points in the impersonation and drawing attention to its 
 broader features. Of the whole, we are justified in saying 
 that it is interesting and intellectual in an eminent degree. 
 From the efforts of would-be tragedians it is separated 
 by an abyss. The character has been studied with 
 care and intelligence, and the conception throughout is 
 elevated and sustained. If we judge it by its effects upon 
 the audience, its triumph is assured. As no event has 
 created more profound interest, no audience at any previ- 
 ous representation of modern days has been more capable 
 and more critical. Slowly and reluctantly it came under 
 the spell of the conception, and at the close of the third 
 act it \vas riveted in a way such as we read of in records 
 of past performances, but scarcely, so far as English act- 
 ing is concerned, can recall. To come thus under the 
 spell of a powerful representation, it is not necessary, be it 
 remembered, to agree with the interpretation so far as its 
 intellectual basis is concerned. Those even who dissent 
 most widely from the idea of the character embodied by 
 Mr. Irving will not deny having yielded, for a time at 
 least, to the empire at one or two points exercised. To 
 give our own estimate of Hamlet is but to add one more 
 to the many attempts to fix the impalpable which art and 
 criticism have essayed. Define and theorise as you will, 
 there is an expression in the face you cannot get upon 
 canvas an influence in the elixir you cannot separate or 
 detect. Mr. Irving has read, apparently, most that 
 German criticism has said, and has sought to embody 
 what is best in its opinions. He presents a prince melan- 
 choly in his mood, but capable of short fits of cheerfulness 
 and even of light-heartedness ; courteous in manner, 
 though familiar ; benign in disposition ; averse from 
 
4 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 action ; and anxious, as it seems, to divest himself of the 
 terrible responsibilities thrust upon him. His "antic" 
 fashions are all assumed, and his pulse beats "healthful 
 music ". So strongly is this conveyed, that the words he 
 addresses to Horatio seem extorted from his own inner 
 consciousness : 
 
 Blest are those 
 
 Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, 
 That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger 
 To sound what stop she please. 
 
 Without waiting to debate the question some writers 
 have tried of late to elevate into importance, whether any 
 real madness should be revealed underneath the "antic" 
 disposition of Hamlet, it may be said that most inspira- 
 tion and most fateful manifestations are accompanied by 
 some disturbance of mental balance. The "heat" of the 
 "pale-mouthed prophet dreaming" is, in itself, a species 
 of madness, and the actions of men under the direct sway 
 of supernatural influences can never be conformable to 
 ordinary standards. Mr. Irving fails to present that pos- 
 session which the circumstances warrant. He does not 
 even, as it seems, seek to depict it. His melancholy is 
 that of a man \vho is sorry for himself and who loathes the 
 incest and murder he is compelled to scourge. It is not 
 that, however, of one on whom the gods have stamped 
 their signet. No burden of destiny weighs upon him ; no 
 shuddering sense that between him and human sympathy 
 and human enjoyment stands a pale, menacing, and re- 
 bukeful phantom. The varied tempers and moods, indeed, 
 are intellectual, and the mystic and encompassing dread 
 that can never quit a man with so terrible a mission are 
 unseen. His action is abrupt, nervous, and almost 
 fidgety, and there is an absence of the repose which is so 
 powerful an influence in art. His step, short and fre- 
 quently jerky, shows want of the self-reliance which should 
 spring from perfect mastery. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 5 
 
 While pointing to these deficiencies of conception and 
 of execution, we are putting on one side many remarkable 
 beauties. The manner in which the Ghost's counsel is 
 heard is finely indicative of reverence and affection 
 struggling with terror ; the advice to the Players is given 
 with admirable art ; the rebuke of Rosencrantz and 
 Guildenstern is full of fire ; and the scene in the Queen's 
 chamber is presented with remarkable pathos. The best 
 scene of all in the interpretation is that in which Hamlet 
 utters his rhapsody after his stratagem to " catch the con- 
 science of the King " has proved successful, and ends by 
 throwing himself into the seat previously occupied by the 
 discomfited monarch. 
 
 These are but a few of many noteworthy features in 
 Mr. Irving's performance. In a case like the present it is 
 but fair to credit the principal actor with the invention of 
 many of the effects which prove most telling. The 
 admirable fencing scene, accordingly, between Hamlet 
 and Laertes (Mr. Leathes) must be attributed to Mr. 
 Irving. Both combatants looked admirably picturesque, 
 and by both the fight was finely managed. Not less good 
 was the manner in which the death of the King was com- 
 passed. Specially fine, moreover, was the awe-stricken 
 face of Miss Pauncefort, as Gertrude, when she heard her 
 son's arraignment. A countenance more charged with 
 tears has seldom been seen. Mr. Conway's bright and 
 refined picture of Osric, and Mr. George Neville's graceful 
 appearance and intelligent acting as Horatio, deserve 
 mention. Mr. Compton's Gravedigger is the best the stage 
 supplies ; and Mr. Chippendale's Polonius affords as good 
 a presentation as can be expected of a character the most 
 perplexing and irreconcilable in Shakspeare. We are 
 often disposed to ask if the gags of the first actor have not 
 got incorporated into the text of this part in a larger pro- 
 portion than usual. Miss Isabel Bateman as Ophelia, Mr. 
 T. Mead as the Ghost, and Mr. Swinbourne as the King, 
 
O DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 make up the remainder of the cast so far as the principal 
 characters are concerned. 
 
 Before quitting a performance which, noteworthy as 
 proving that artistic effect and purpose in tragedy still 
 survive, is yet more noteworthy as marking a stage in the 
 history of theatrical art, since it shows the final abandon- 
 ment of old traditions of acting and of conventions of de- 
 clamation, we may speculate as to whether, in presence of 
 the changes now in operation, our theories of art will 
 have to be reconsidered. After all, a drama is a mimic 
 presentation, and not a real one. So long as we do not 
 kill our actors, like Roman gladiators, we must have a 
 portion, at least, of the presentation conventional. If the 
 style Mr. Irving adopts of giving Shakspeare's soliloquies 
 is that of the future, we in England are as far ahead of 
 French art as we \vere in the days w r hen Talma learned in 
 England the lessons he transmitted to France, and on 
 which the French school is founded. Where, moreover, 
 may be asked, is the conventional to begin ? Leaving 
 these questions for the present unanswered, we may own, 
 in one respect, a special obligation to Mr. Irving. In a 
 performance that is revolutionary, and that \vould have 
 appeared more so but for the previous experiment of Mr. 
 Fechter, he makes no changes for the sake of change. 
 Occasionally, as when he breaks the pipe that he has used 
 for purpose of illustration, his new business is unimportant. 
 It is generally, however, significant, even when we think 
 it is wrong. 
 
 v. 14, 1874. FEW signs augur more hopefully for the future of our 
 stage, or indicate more distinctly the revival of a sound 
 judgment in theatrical matters, than the manner in which 
 the canons of recent management are disregarded. A few 
 years ago, no manager would have dreamed of putting 
 upon the stage a piece which could only be designated a 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 7 
 
 " dramatic contrast," or indeed, of reading at all a play in 
 two acts. Now the fear seems to be that innovation and 
 experiment will run riot, and that all past teaching and 
 experience will be disregarded. Mr. Gilbert's " Sweet- 
 hearts," which at present occupies the place of honour at 
 the Prince of Wales' Theatre, is one of those light produc- 
 tions of sentimental interest which, since the days when 
 the proverbes of Alfred de Musset were first acted in 
 Russia, have sprung into high favour in Paris, and are a 
 constant dish at the Comedie Fran9aise. Viands less 
 capable of staying appetite can scarcely be found. Not 
 seldom, however, they compensate in delicacy for what 
 they \vant in substance. From the point of art, we are 
 inclined to rank Mr. Gilbert's latest piece, without situa- 
 tion or plot as it is, as his highest accomplishment. Few 
 modern works have taken a stronger hold upon an audience, 
 or have elicited approval more open and more spontaneous. 
 The term " contrast " describes satisfactorily the play. 
 Two short interviews between a pair of lovers reveal the 
 entire shaping of their destiny. In the first, the youth 
 who has received an appointment in India strives vainly 
 before his departure to wring from his mistress such con- 
 fession of affection as shall satisfy his longings, and fails 
 to perceive how, as Sir Philip Sidney says, 
 
 such-wise she love denied 
 As yet love she signified. 
 
 In the second a man middle-aged no\v and staid in purpose, 
 not wanting in honours and distinctions, and oblivious of 
 the boyish love from which he is separated by thirty years 
 of active life, returns to find the woman still steadfast in 
 the affection she dared not avow. Many gracefully-con- 
 ceived and well-arranged devices give point to the lesson 
 that "men were deceivers ever," and heighten the contrast 
 between the two characters. The flower, his mistress's 
 
8 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 gift, which, with vows, "false as dicer's oaths," the youth 
 has pressed to his bosom, has been discarded and lost ; 
 that she received, with ill-worn assumption of indifference, 
 is still preserved and cherished ; the tree her lover has 
 aided her to plant is watched by her with tender care, and 
 it is he \vho suggests, upon his return, that it is an eye- 
 sore and a hindrance. Mr. Gilbert has, indeed, handled 
 his theme with singular delicacy and tenderness ; and his 
 piece, which is none the worse for a slight flavour of 
 cynicism, is fresh, graceful, and original. It is admirably 
 acted. Miss Wilton's presentation of love, thinly veiled 
 behind coyness and coquetry, is unsurpassed upon the 
 modern stage ; and the touches of pathos she intro- 
 duces, each a revelation to the audience, are thoroughly 
 artistic and beautiful. Her passion of tears when she finds 
 the parting is indeed for ever is profoundly touching, and 
 her reception of the wounds her returned lover with un- 
 conscious cruelty inflicts, shows with how slight apparent 
 expenditure of power the highest results can be obtained. 
 Mr. Coghlan's presentation of the staid and influential 
 Anglo-Indian is also excellent. Especially good is the 
 manner in which he is awed into something like fear by 
 the knowledge of how tried a constancy has waited upon 
 him. 
 
 Good as are both pieces and acting, neither is free 
 from defects. It is a mistake in art to introduce un- 
 necessarily the offensive costume of thirty years ago. 
 A piece so slight does not demand archaeological correct- 
 ness, and some idealisation of the dress is imperative. 
 Thirty years, again, convert the boy and girl into the 
 middle-aged man and woman, and not into old folk. 
 Both actors had, so far as appearance is concerned, added 
 forty years to their age, and the result was a defeat for 
 the authors obvious intention. Mr. Gilbert again adds 
 to masculine atrocity. He should not make a man forget 
 the name of the woman to whom he has proposed, nor 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. Q 
 
 insult her by telling her that a week later he was equally 
 in love with some one else. The first is false to nature, 
 seeing a man does not forget the girl with whom he has 
 grown from childhood on terms of intimacy and affection ; 
 and the second is false to the rules of politeness, which a 
 man so eminently respectable as his hero is sure to 
 observe. When he says the governess " was " a wife with 
 five children there is such a shock to the audience, we 
 cannot but hope the w r ord was given wTongly, and should 
 have been "is ". With these trifling drawbacks, the play 
 and the interpretation are alike to be commended. 
 
 IF ever the comedies of Shakspeare are to regain their Dec. 26 1874. 
 prestige as acting plays, and to prove a source of lasting 
 attraction to the public, it is under such conditions as 
 are now realised at the Gaiety. The first requisite to 
 their success speaks of a complete change in the taste of 
 the play-goer. It consists of a small, or, at any rate, a 
 moderately-sized theatre. Time has been when Shak- 
 spearian comedy found its only home in London, in 
 Covent Garden, and Drury Lane. Whether our art has 
 now lost its breadth, or the public has learned to like a 
 different style of entertainment, it is, at least, certain that 
 the stage of our large theatres, dangerous and trying 
 enough to the tragedian, proves fatal in the case of 
 comedy. Nothing can be much more depressing than the 
 sound of small jokes heard across a cavernous stage ; 
 and for one or two figures to fill the space, it is necessary 
 that they should have tragic amplitude and dignity. 
 Attention to dresses and decorations is important so far 
 as the public is concerned, and the addition of music is 
 often an advantage. Most important of all, however, is 
 the selection of a cast. The failure of Shakspeare at 
 Drury Lane is principally assignable to the fact that, while 
 competent actors were secured for the leading characters, 
 
10 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 subordinate parts were allotted to people fitted for little 
 more than to carry a flag in a procession. Mr. Rollings- 
 head has scrutinised carefully the various companies in 
 London, and has secured for his performances actors who 
 are, if not qualified in all cases, the best obtainable. 
 
 To do this in the case of the " Merry Wives of 
 Windsor" is no easy task. Though the most farcical, 
 probably, of Shakspeare's productions, destitute alike of 
 moral elevation and of poetical power, it contains a 
 remarkable number of distinct and well-developed charac- 
 ters. Not a few of them have done duty in previous plays, 
 and one or two of these are but colourless reflections of 
 their former selves. Sir Hugh Evans, Dr. Caius, Slender, 
 Ford, and the two wives, are, however, distinct and 
 new creations. A striking illustration of Shakspeare's 
 workmanship is afforded in the manner in which 
 one of the characters of this play, sweet Anne Page, is 
 installed for ever as an object of the world's worship, 
 Thrice only does she appear on the stage, she has few 
 words to say, and the only moral trait we discover in her 
 is a tendency, not uncommon in her sex, to prefer her 
 own way before that of her father and mother. What else 
 we learn of her, on the authority of Slender, amounts to 
 this, that " she has brown hair, and speaks small like a 
 woman ". She yet remains as distinct and gracious a 
 reality as any of the characters of history or fiction, and 
 the first idea apt to invade the mind when we think of 
 Windsor is that of " sweet Anne Page ". 
 
 Ford's suspicions are natural, and the means he takes 
 to obtain a knowledge of his own misery convey, in the 
 degradation they imply, a lesson upon the evils of jealousy. 
 His gossip, Page, is a more commonplace conception, but 
 is still a type of the bourgeois character, hospitable and 
 frank in social affairs, but keeping an eye on the main 
 chance. Sir Hugh Evans and Dr. Caius are whimsical. 
 One is at a loss to understand why Shakspeare should 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. II 
 
 have named the Frenchman after the famous founder of 
 Caius College, alive at the time when the play was 
 written. His fierce and turbulent resentment contrasts 
 finely with the Welshman's equally impetuous but more 
 varying disposition, " full of cholers and trempling of 
 mind," with his fervour and non-professional leaning to 
 music and poetry, and his " great dispositions to cry ". 
 Simple even is not without a character of his own ; and 
 the host, in his notions of life, would have made a boon 
 companion to Friar John of the Funnels. Slender, again, 
 is of the very pedigree of the Shallows, and Shallow him- 
 self, though a little crestfallen, is still mindful of his 
 dignities, and hardly unmindful of his valour. 
 
 Sir John Falstaff is, in fact, the one defect among the 
 characters of the play. He is not a shadow of his former 
 self. If the story is true that Queen Elizabeth, interested 
 in the adventures of the fat knight, ordered Shakspeare to 
 show him in love, the poet evaded cleverly the command 
 imposed upon him without escaping the penalty involved 
 in enforced \vork. There is not a shadow of pretence for 
 asserting Sir John to be in love with anything except the 
 money-bags of his neighbour, to which he has never been 
 inattentive. In the poor victim of tricks and plots, we 
 recognise nothing of the man who could twist Dame 
 Quickly round his finger ; and when Pistol and Nym refuse 
 to carry his messages, we wonder w r here is that power 
 over those around him which elicited, upon news being 
 received of his death, Bardolph's touching, if profane 
 exclamation " Would I were with him wheresoe'er he is, 
 whether in Heaven or Hell ". Nym is curiously cox- 
 combical with his "humours," but Pistol, too, has fallen 
 from his former glory. We cannot, indeed, avoid a fancy 
 that the task of humiliating Falstaff was reluctantly com- 
 menced, and half-heartedly continued. As regards the 
 dialogue, much of it is probably due to the actors. This 
 view is supported by the fact that in the first quarto edition 
 
12 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 the play has not half the dimensions it assumes in the 
 folio. 
 
 Mr. Phelps's Falstaff is wholly without unction or 
 geniality. It is affecting, however, and is a Falstaff, 
 though scarcely the Falstaff \ve imagine. In consequence 
 of the dryness of manner of the actor, Falstaff's references 
 to the results of his own obesity acquire an added coarse- 
 ness. Mr. Cecil's Dr. Cams is a well-studied and fine 
 performance. Mr. Righton's Sir Hugh is also careful 
 and effective. Mr. Vezin's Ford is powerful, and not 
 destitute of mirthfulness. The Air. Page of Mr. Belford, 
 the Slender of Mr. Taylor, the Pistol of Mr. Soutar, the 
 Simple of Mr. Leigh, and the Fenton of Mr. Forbes 
 Robertson, deserve mention. Mrs. Wood and Miss 
 Rose Leclercq present agreeably the two wives. Mrs. 
 Leigh is Mrs. Quickly, and Miss Furtado Anne Page. 
 Miss Furtado looks the character, but sang much out of 
 tune an original song by Mr. Swinburne, to which Mr. 
 Sullivan had contributed the music. The scenery and 
 decorations, we have said, are good. Little is gained, 
 however, in this play by archaeological correctness in the 
 matter of costume, seeing that, though the action is laid 
 in the time of Henry the Fourth, the dialogue and the 
 characters belong to that of Elizabeth. The reception 
 of the performance was favourable. It is difficult to 
 believe that the piece has strength for a long run. It is 
 regrettable, however, that such is required. If Mr. 
 Hollingshead employed the company he has now collected 
 in the presentation of different plays of Shakspeare and 
 other early dramatists, he would do a service to the stage, 
 and might, we fancy, prove that such experiments can be 
 made permanently remunerative. The long run of pieces 
 seems fatal to all serious effort in management in this 
 direction, and to all continued advance in art. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Vaudeville: "Our Boys" comedy in three acts, by H. J. 
 Byron. Gaiety: "As Yon Like It". Drury Lane: 
 " Othello ". 
 
 IN kk Our Boys" Mr. Byron has risen nearer excellence Jan. 23, 1875. 
 than in any previous piece. Evidence of careful work- 
 manship, of workmanship, that is, that in his case may be 
 considered careful, are abundant ; his worst faults are kept 
 in check ; and one or two of the blemishes that disfigured 
 his style have almost, if not entirely, disappeared. An 
 attempt is visible to give the dialogue the appropriateness 
 without which wit is dramatically ineffective, and the 
 rudeness of speech which, doing duty for repartee, com- 
 municated to previous compositions an indescribable arti- 
 ficiality, less frequently shocks the audience. Add to this 
 that the motive is more tender than in any previous work, 
 and sufficient proof of amendment is afforded. Distinct, 
 however, as is the progress that is made, there is room for 
 further advance. A gentleman should not be presented as 
 scolding angrily a lady he scarcely knows ; young women 
 should not, whatever their disappointment, tell their hosts 
 they are old and ugly; and people in general in plays 
 should conform to those habits of behaviour and speech 
 which society has found indispensable to its own existence. 
 A weakness Mr. Byron must learn to conquer is his affec- 
 tion for his own jokes. Professed wags are believed, at 
 times, to sacrifice their friends to their jokes. Mr. Byron 
 
 (13) 
 
14 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 goes further, and sacrifices his situation to his propensity 
 to verbal quibble. A notable instance of this is afforded 
 in the second act of this play, where pathos and strength 
 are forfeited in consequence of the introduction of a 
 farcical and preposterous pun. 
 
 Some satirical purpose is apparent in the plot, which 
 derides the efforts by system to change human nature. 
 For a while youth yields to the restraints under which it 
 is placed. When once love sets the pulses stirring, you 
 may as well seek to keep in a silken leash the tiger cub 
 which has tasted blood as hope to make boyhood sub- 
 missive to parental control. "Our Boys" are the sons 
 respectively of a baronet and an enriched tradesman. 
 While one has been brought up to habits of military 
 obedience, the other has known no curb, parental fondness 
 having anticipated his every wish. When love, wrongly 
 placed in each instance according to parental judgment, 
 asserts itself, neither system brings the fruits expected. 
 The same denial is accorded to the request, backed up by 
 a lifetime of indulgence, that awaits the command which 
 comes with the weight of accumulated years of authority. 
 The revolt is complete. Shaking the dust from their feet, 
 the youths start for London to earn their own livelihood. 
 In this attempt they naturally fail, and parental forgive- 
 ness and concession reach them only just in time to 
 prevent the issue of the experiment from proving disaster. 
 
 The conduct of the boys is manly, and that of the 
 fathers is not unnatural. A lesson deeper than those Mr. 
 Byron ordinarily teaches is enforced in the redeeming in- 
 fluences of the suffering to which his heroes are subject. 
 From the alembic of sorrow and hard work an empty- 
 headed " swell " issues a feeling, capable and sympathetic 
 being, while a "bumptious" young gentleman who goes 
 into ecstasies on every occasion grows, under the same 
 influence, a little manlier and more tolerable. It may, of 
 course, be urged that a man so vacuous as Talbot Champ- 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 15 
 
 neys appears in the first act, in which, unlike another 
 hero of Mr. Byron's, he is as great a fool as he looks, could 
 scarcely have proved himself the man he subsequently be- 
 comes. It is as well, however, candidly to own that Mr. 
 Byron's dramas will not stand this style of criticism. 
 Those who seek to enjoy these amusing productions must 
 be content to yield themselves into the author's hands. 
 Accepting unquestioningly his conclusions, and laughing 
 at the incongruities and whimsicalities of his dialogue, 
 they will find the task of listening to his plays agreeable 
 and entertaining. If they are squeamish upon points of 
 art or probability, their case is hopeless. It must be con- 
 fessed, moreover, the task Mr. Byron imposes upon him- 
 self is at times sufficiently arduous to render pardonable 
 the employment of shifts. Let us take, for instance, the 
 point he reaches towards the conclusion of this play. 
 After two fairly spirited acts, a third is wanted, and 
 materials are not forthcoming. Two young men who 
 have quarrelled with their fathers, and sought vainly to 
 earn a living, are in a garret ; two fathers are burning to 
 forgive them, and two sweethearts are dying to clasp them 
 in their arms. The dramatist's task, then, is to bring all 
 the dramatis persons into the attic in which the action is 
 placed, and to defer the termination long enough to make 
 the intrigue sufficiently strong to justify its extension over 
 an act. The first difficulty is got over by the process of 
 cutting a knot, instead of untying it. The characters 
 arrive by the simple process of coming. Except that the 
 week is that of the cattle-show, there is no reason for 
 them all reappearing on one special day. Once in the 
 room, the two fathers, who are first to arrive, hide in 
 closets, while the aunt of one youth, who comes second, 
 goes down into the kitchen to cook a fowl, leaving her 
 bonnet behind her. This bonnet supplies the act with its 
 interest. When the girls reach the room, they see in this 
 article of attire proof of feminine occupancy, and hear in 
 
l6 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 closets noises which betray the presence of some concealed 
 visitor. They depart accordingly in a huff. The fathers 
 meanwhile, who from their hiding-places have heard the 
 sound of female voices raised in rebukeful tones, judge 
 that their sons have formed dishonouring liaisons. While 
 this remarkable expansion of plot is afforded, the audience, 
 chafing over needless and vexatious procrastination of a 
 result seen to be inevitable, feels its enthusiasm, like the 
 valour of Bob Acres, oozing out at its fingers' ends, and 
 has to summon back memories of past amusement to 
 enable it to accord a favourable verdict. 
 
 The interpretation was competent. Mr. James showed, 
 as a retired tradesman, a mixture of vulgarity, bonhomie, 
 and good feeling, which was quite effective ; Mr. Farren 
 gave a good study of aristocratic pride ; Mr. Warner was 
 satisfactory as an impetuous, student ; and Mr. Thorne 
 presented a very amusing picture of the golden youth of 
 the period. Miss Kate Bishop and Miss Roselle enacted 
 gracefully the two heroines ; and Miss Cicely Richards 
 obtained a conspicuous triumph in a small part, that of 
 Belinda, a lodging-house servant. The colour of the 
 decorations in the first scene was unpleasant. As, however, 
 it presented the house of a retired cheesemonger, the 
 vulgarity was probably intentional. 
 
 sb. 27, 1875. ROSALIND, in " As You Like It," is less suited to Mrs. 
 Kendal than Miss Hardcastle, the part she was acting a 
 week or two ago, and Orlando is wholly outside Mr. 
 Kendal's range. In light comedy Mr. Kendal has made, 
 during late years, a decided advance. Few modern actors 
 can present better than he the joyous and debonnaire youth 
 of an artificial state of society. He has, however, nothing 
 about him of the Celadon. So soon as sentiment has to 
 be displayed, or the " clouded cane " exchanged for a 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 17 
 
 crook, the self-consciousness which seems ingrained in the 
 modern English actor develops itself, and he becomes 
 formal and ill at ease. One side of the character of 
 Rosalind is shown by Mrs. Kendal with admirable clear- 
 ness and point. So suited to her style are the bantering 
 speeches Shakspeare has put into the mouth of Rosalind, 
 they might almost have been written for her. A certain 
 undercurrent of irony is apparent in all Mrs. Randal's 
 acting. At times its effect is excellent. The most telling 
 pathos has a flavour of the kind. So strong is this in the 
 writings of Thackeray, it has caused one of the most 
 tender and sympathetic of English writers to be regarded 
 as a satirist. With Mrs. Kendal, however, the irony can 
 scarcely, perhaps, be said to add to the pathos. The 
 woman seems always a little inclined to deride her own 
 weaknesses, and to pity and laugh at herself for her yield- 
 ings. Such speeches as those addressed to Orlando by 
 the supposed Ganymede were delivered with marvellous 
 effect, and the short epilogue was delightful. What was 
 wanting was the underlying tenderness that more emotional 
 artists are able to present. One actress only in modern 
 times has shown the character as Shakspeare drew it. 
 This is Miss Faucit. To the last the rapture of tenderness 
 she displayed in asking, " In good sooth, are you he that 
 hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so 
 much admired ? " was maintained ; and the manner in 
 which the verses themselves were hugged to her heart, 
 then furtively pressed to her lips, was one of those 
 touches the memory of which never forsakes us. This is 
 the true Rosalind, who at first sight rewards Orlando 
 with a gold chain, and tells him with outspoken candour, 
 on their meeting 
 
 Sir, you have wrestled well, and overthrown 
 More than your enemies. 
 
 Mr. Vezin's y agues was admirable. It is difficult to 
 
 2 
 
1 8 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 imagine a presentation of this character according to 
 received theories more ample and more satisfactory. We 
 are not quite sure, however, whether Shakspeare did not 
 intend Jaques to be in part a comic character, a foil to 
 Touchstone. Much of his moralising is beautiful, no 
 doubt, but much also is of the sententious kind he puts into 
 the mouth of men such as Polonius. Had this character 
 been wholly sentimental and noble, Orlando would scarcely 
 have been allowed to get so much the better of him in 
 their wit-combats. Mr. Arthur Cecil, as Touchstone, 
 suffered from visible nervousness. His conception of the 
 character displayed much that is novel. Touchstone is 
 familiar with courts, and may, perhaps, be supposed to 
 bear himself with a fair amount of quietude and dignity. 
 On the whole, however, the impersonation would have 
 been better for a little more breadth and colour. Mr. 
 Maclean, as Adam, was less absurdly senile and lachry- 
 mose than some of his recent predecessors, and was 
 accordingly more satisfactory. Mrs. Leigh slightly cari- 
 catured the part of Audrey. Miss Nellie Harris was 
 Celia. The remaining parts were indifferently sustained, 
 the delivery of the lines in this, as in most cases of Shak- 
 spearian performances, being of a kind to add point to the 
 exclamation of Jaques : 
 
 Nay, then, God be wi' you, an' you talk in blank verse. 
 
 rilio, 1875. No slight censure of modern English art is involved in 
 the fact that the mention of the masterpieces of Shak- 
 spearian tragedy is apt to bring up recollections of foreign 
 actors. Hamlet is at the present moment associated in 
 public estimation with Mr. Irving. A year ago, however, 
 the names it first recalled were those of Emil Devrient, 
 Mr. Fechter, and M. Rouviere. Mdlle. Stella Colas has 
 not during recent years been surpassed in Juliet, and since 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 19 
 
 Mrs. Siddons, Signora Ristori is unapproached as Lady 
 Macbeth. Within the last few days another character has 
 been wrested from us, and Othello henceforward will be 
 associated in the memory of playgoers with Signer Salvini. 
 Othello has not been a favourite character with English 
 exponents, happier always in presenting the sombre rage 
 of Northern blood than the fierce and burning passion of 
 the South. Those who remember Edmund Kean are few, 
 and can speak only from distant recollections. Macready's 
 Othello was the weakest of his Shakspearian performances. 
 So weak was it, that men who, with the present writer, 
 contemplated in it the most intellectual of tragedians 
 for the first time, doubted whether his reputation was 
 merited, and were scarcely disposed to see him in a second 
 part. Neither Young nor Charles Kean has left many 
 recollections as Othello. Mr. Phelps has played the part 
 often, but it is far from the best of his tragic impersona- 
 tions. It is strange, indeed, that the only man in days 
 comparatively recent who has acquired any high reputa- 
 tion in Othello is one whose fame as an actor has since 
 suffered eclipse. Before large theatres or other influences 
 known to be prejudicial to English art had done their 
 work, Mr. G. V. Brooke was an actor of promise, and his 
 Othello still stands highest in the recollections of English 
 playgoers. 
 
 In coming before the public then as Othello, Signor 
 Salvini has to fear little competition, either actual or 
 retrospective. So unlike anything that the present gene- 
 ration has seen is, however, his impersonation of the Moor, 
 that opportunity is scarcely offered for comparison. It is 
 splendid alike in its qualities and its defects, in virtues 
 which raise it to something like supremacy in tragic art, 
 .and in defects powerful enough to mar its beauty, and 
 leave the prevalent impression on the mind one not far 
 from disappointment. Much as English actors may learn 
 from the distinguished stranger who now comes among us, 
 
2O DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 it will be an evil day for art when young actors begin to 
 train themselves in the school of which he is the most illus- 
 trious exponent. 
 
 Few physical advantages are wanting to Signor Salvini. 
 His frame is manly and robust, his stature tall, his face 
 handsome and expressive, and his voice powerful. These 
 gifts have, of course, been cultivated to the utmost : the 
 bearing is perfect in simplicity and nobility, the features 
 are singularly mobile, and the music of the voice is as re- 
 markable as its power. 
 
 Signor Salvini's conception of Othello is that we expect 
 from a thoughtful, perceptive, and cultivated man. Othello 
 with him is a barbarian, whose instincts, savage and 
 passionate, are concealed behind a veneer of civilisation 
 so thick that he is himself scarcely conscious he can be 
 other than he appears. Friendly, loving, and courteous,, 
 he can, as lago says : 
 
 As tenderly be led by the nose 
 As asses are. 
 
 When the poison of jealousy ferments in his blood, the 
 strife between the animal nature and the civilising 
 influences of custom is long and sharp. In the end the 
 barbarian triumphs, the concluding scene, if not wholly 
 savage, exhibiting mere glimpses of those restraints which 
 in the third act, though sorely tested, remain dominant. 
 The picture is exact of a noble animal turning piteously 
 in the toils in which it has been enmeshed, and finding its 
 efforts at escape serve only to render its position more 
 desperate. 
 
 In dwelling upon some salient features in the interpre- 
 tation, it is well to note the gradual conquest of the intel- 
 lectual nature and its disappearance before the rising 
 passion and fury. 
 
 To the counsel of the Duke, in the first act, Othello 
 listens with dignified attention. As Brabantio enters, 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 21 
 
 uttering exclamations concerning his daughter's loss, mixed 
 with charges against Othello, the face of the Moor exhibits 
 a variety of emotions, of which pity is the most conspicuous. 
 His address to the senators is delivered with calm and 
 sustained dignity, and with less aid of gesture than is 
 common. The first revelation of his true nature occurs 
 upon the appearance of Desdemona, whom he covers with 
 a glance of indescribable tenderness. As she claims from 
 the Duke permission to go with her husband to the wars 
 his gaze becomes burning. Forgetful of all restraints, he 
 approaches and almost folds her in his arms ; but awaking 
 in time to recollections of the august presence in which he 
 stands, he turns from her with a gesture of apology. The 
 start with which he receives Brabantio's caution 
 
 Look to her, Moor ; have a quick eye to see ; 
 She has deceived her father, and may thee 
 
 shows not only his quickness in receiving a hint which, 
 taken in conjunction with other matters, works afterwards 
 "like madness in the brain," but his fiery and impetuous 
 disposition. 
 
 His delivery of the speech in the second act, on re- 
 joining Desdemona at Cyprus, is steeped in Southern 
 voluptuousness, for which the words afford warrant, since 
 words can scarcely depict more profound contentment or 
 more burning love. The interruption of the brawl be- 
 gotten of Cassio's drunkenness is noticeable only inas- 
 much as it exhibits Othello as the commander of men, 
 and reveals the qualities which have raised a Moor to a 
 position of trust in a republic so intolerant of strangers 
 as that of Venice. A noteworthy touch of uxoriousness 
 is found in the manner in which Othello, after limiting 
 the punishment of Cassio to dismissal, grows more 
 angered upon Desdemona's appearance : 
 
 Look, if my gentle love be not raised up ! 
 (To CASS.) I'll make thee an example. 
 
22 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Supreme beatitude is evinced in the look which accompanies 
 the delivery in the next act of the well-known speech, 
 " Excellent wench," etc. The duel with lago commences, 
 and uneasiness is gradually communicated to the mind of 
 Othello by the "leprous distilment " which lago drops 
 in his ear. Sitting at the table, Othello, at the first word, 
 suspends his work, his attention becomes gradually close, 
 until at the words, " Thou dost mean something," he rises 
 from his chair, throwing down impatiently the pen he has 
 been using. Few gestures are subsequently employed 
 until the meaning of lago's accusation is made plain. The 
 slowness of his mind to drink in suspicion, and the manner 
 in which presentiment of evil is transfigured into horror 
 and rage, are the most striking and original characteristics 
 of the interpretation. lago's repetition of the charge 
 previously brought against Desdemona of deceiving her 
 father pains him, but communicates no downright mis- 
 trust, and the words " Not a jot, not a jot" (Punto, punto) 
 seem an attempt at self-encouragement. With uneasy steps 
 he now paces about the room, drinking in the words of 
 lago, until slowly the foul accusation takes shape in his 
 mind. Shortly and sharply, and with tones of authority, 
 he bids his antient farewell. He would fain be alone and 
 hide his struggles from all observation ; the injunction, 
 " Set on thy wife to observe," comes as an afterthought. 
 A brief episode of the loss by Desdemona of the handker- 
 chief and its transfer to lago separates the two portions of 
 the duel. When with mind almost distracted he re-enters, 
 he gazes gloomily back through the door which he holds 
 open. Then follows the most impressive scene of the play. 
 The famous farewell to his former occupation is delivered 
 with much pathos. It is virtually a farewell also to his 
 better self. When the voice of lago breaks the thread of 
 his reflections, the animal nature springs to assert itself. 
 Seizing fiercely lago by the throat, he crushes the 
 cowering miscreant to the ground, and in the whirlwind 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 23 
 
 of his passion lifts his foot to stamp the heel upon his 
 head, it might even be to stamp out his brains. Recalled, 
 however, to reason, he turns away, and with averted head 
 he stretches out his hand, and penitently, yet with a 
 species of loathing, raises the prostrate wretch from the 
 ground. In this scene, the one profoundly electrical effect 
 of the interpretation is reached. Quitting lago, he sits at 
 the very back of the stage, until as the tempter deals the 
 poison in stronger doses, and speaks of Cassio's sleeping 
 words, he comes again forward to kneel and swear a 
 terrible revenge. 
 
 Little opportunity is offered in the fourth act. His ill- 
 worn courtesy to Desdemona renders more marked the 
 menace of his eye, in which burns a lurid light of resolution- 
 The blow before the messengers from Venice is well given, 
 and the speech, "She can turn, and turn," is spoken 
 with suppressed passion and enforced politeness, strikingly 
 contrasted. The speech, " Had it pleased Heaven," etc., 
 is delivered at the back of the stage. It has pathos, though 
 scarcely in an eminent degree. When the interview with 
 Desdemona is over, Othello shakes savagely the money in 
 his purse in the ear of Emilia, and departs throwing it at 
 her feet with a fine expression of scorn and indignation. 
 
 Thus far, though there are points on which we have 
 doubts, the merits of the impersonation so completely 
 overpower its defects, we have not stayed to hint censure. 
 In the concluding scenes of the last act the conquest of 
 the civilised being by the barbarian is carried out at the 
 sacrifice of Shakspeare's intentions and at that of Art. 
 After delivering the speech, " It is the cause," slowly, the 
 first lines being spoken close to the door by which he 
 enters, Othello kisses his sleeping wife, then goes to the 
 window, and stands with the lightning playing upon his 
 face. Desdemona wakes, sees him, and approaches. His 
 recoil, expressive partly of unwillingness to embrace one 
 who has so foully wronged him, next of fear lest the sweet 
 
24 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 seductive influence of her caress might yet unman him, is 
 fine. After the short dialogue of supplication on the one 
 side, and refusal on the other, he seizes her by the hair of 
 the head, and, dragging her on to the bed, strangles her 
 with a ferocity that seems to take a delight in its office. 
 The murder committed, Othello walks agitatedly back- 
 wards and forwards, not answering the cry of Emilia. 
 When she tells him of the death of Roderigo by the hand 
 of Cassio he starts, then relapses into sullen fury of 
 discontent. He remains motionless for a while, with eye 
 glazing, as he learns how mightily he has been abused, 
 then staggers forward with open mouth and with a 
 countenance charged with tragic passion. The following- 
 words are delivered in a wild abandonment of grief, that 
 in the end becomes inarticulate in utterance, and with an 
 accompaniment of beating of his head with his hands 
 which, according to English canons of art, is excessive. 
 Suddenly the thought of the tempter comes to him. 
 Crouching low like a wild beast, he prepares for a spring. 
 A sword is in the girdle of one of the attendants. Upon 
 this he seizes, and passes it with one thrust through the 
 traitor's body. Staggering then to a seat, he commences, 
 sitting and weeping, the final speech. Nearing the end, 
 he rises, and at the supreme moment cuts his throat with 
 a short scimitar, hacking and hewing with savage energy, 
 and imitating the noise that escaping blood and air may 
 together make when the windpipe is severed. 
 
 Nothing in art so terribly realistic as this death-scene 
 has been attempted. It is directly opposed to Shakspeare, 
 who makes Othello say 
 
 I took by the throat the circumcised dog, 
 And smote him thus. 
 
 A man does not take by the neck one whose throat he is 
 going to cut, since he would cut his own fingers in so 
 doing. He seizes one, on the contrary, into whose heart 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 25 _____ 
 
 he is about to plunge a dagger. The word " smote " in 
 Shakspeare is, indeed, sufficiently clear to leave no room 
 for doubt or misconception. The effect on the audience 
 is repellent to the last degree. This kind of death-scene 
 needs only such slight and easily provided additions as the 
 rupture of a bladder of blood, which the actor might place 
 within reach, the exhibition of a bleeding throat, and a 
 stream of blood serpenting upon the floor, to reach the 
 limits of attainable realism. Tendencies in the direction 
 of this kind of so-called art were seen in Signora Ristori, 
 and marred her marvellously artistic impersonations. In 
 the present case their effect is singularly detrimental to 
 the artistic value of the performance. A movement in the 
 same direction is, moreover, noticeable in other arts. 
 When we instance the famous picture of Regnault, " An 
 Execution in a Moorish Palace," the reader will at once 
 see the parallel we draw. It is a different matter even to 
 give realistic effects in pictures and to introduce them into 
 Shakspearian tragedy. Aristotle's definition of Tragedy 
 has never been surpassed. Its aim is to give the pleasure 
 which arises from pity and terror through imitation 
 rrjv CITTO \eov KUI (f)6/3ov Sta /u',yu^crea)9 r)ovr)V Trapacr/cevd^eiv. 
 Terror is, indeed, the aim of all tragic art. When for this 
 is substituted horror, and even commonplace horror, the 
 degradation of art has commenced. Here is the one blot 
 upon an interpretation which otherwise would command 
 our warmest admiration. We have left ourselves no space 
 to dwell on the version presented, which differs, in some 
 respects, from that ordinarily adopted, upon the general 
 cast, or upon any other features of interest. It may be 
 mentioned that the get-up of Signor Salvini is always 
 admirable, the most striking appearance being that 
 assumed in the second act, when he is dressed in chain 
 armour, with a steel helmet and hauberk. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Prince of W 'ales' 's : " The Merchant of Venice ". St. James s : 
 " Tom Cobb" comedy in three acts, by W. S. Gilbert. 
 Drury Lane : " II Gladiator e" drama in five acts, 
 translated into Italian from the French of Alexandre 
 Soumet. Strand : " Weak Woman," a comedy in three 
 acts, by H. J. Byron. Charing Cross: "Jeanne Du- 
 barry" a drama in three acts, by H.Herman. Olympic: 
 " The Spendthrift," a comedy in five acts, by James 
 Albery. Drury Lane: "Amleto". Court: "A Nine 
 Days' Wonder," a comedy in three acts, by Hamilton 
 A'ide. Princess's: "Katharine and Petruchio," altered 
 from Shakspeare, by David Garrick. 
 
 April 24, 1875. IN passing from the domain of realistic comedy to that 
 of the comedy of manners, the management of the Prince 
 of Wales's Theatre attempted a march of no ordinary 
 difficulty and danger. Recognising the efforts that had 
 been made to give completeness in respect to external 
 details, sensible of the merits of portions of the per- 
 formance, and pleased with a series of bright and life-like 
 pictures, the public accepted a representation of the 
 " School for Scandal " which effected a rupture with 
 tradition, and a complete severance of modern art from 
 that of past days. Now, however, when a further step is 
 taken, and the " Merchant of Venice " is produced in the 
 same style as the " School for Scandal," a like display of 
 clemency or favour is not to be expected. What respect 
 for dramatic art still exists in England clings to Shak- 
 speare ; and an attempt to convert his plays into spectacular 
 
 (26) 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 27 
 
 entertainments, however it may suit the ignorant pleasure- 
 seekers who, flocking to Drury Lane, have turned what 
 should be a national theatre into something not widely 
 different from a circus, is not likely to find acceptance 
 from a more enlightened public. In spite, accordingly, of 
 a lavish, and in its way judicious, expenditure, the result 
 of the experiment^ appears in this case to be failure. 
 Superb views of Venice are presented. The gay, idle, 
 insouciante, and withal mysterious life of the Queen of the 
 Adriatic, is depicted with as much truth and colour as in 
 the pages of Consuelo. Cavaliers and rufflers, " witty 
 as youthful poets in their wine," play in the street jests 
 that may lead to " cracked crowns," or whisper beneath 
 half-opened lattices vows that may bring a dagger slit in 
 the doublet. Music of endless serenades rings through 
 streets ignorant of all noise of traffic. The idlers upon the 
 quays and banks rouse themselves from their slumbers to 
 hurl execrations at the passing Jews, and the busy masque 
 of mediaeval Venice defiles with marvellous fidelity before 
 our eyes. These things are good enough in themselves, 
 and form an agreeable and appropriate background to a 
 picture. Unfortunately, however, in the present case, 
 these arc the picture. To accept as a performance of 
 the " Merchant of Venice " such a representation as 
 took place in these surroundings would involve a com- 
 plete abandonment of all that has been held indispensable 
 to histrionic art. " The world is still deceived with 
 ornament," says Bassanio, before he chooses the leaden 
 casket. This view, apparently, has prevailed with the 
 management. In the present instance, however, the 
 later lines of the same speech will, we think, supply the 
 lesson 
 
 Thus ornament is but the guiled shore 
 To a most dangerous sea. 
 
 Mr. Coghlan, under whose direction the whole has, to 
 sgme extent, been produced, and who himself plays Shylock, 
 
28 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 has sought to divest the performance of rant. In itself the 
 endeavour is creditable. He has, however, sunk it to the 
 level of a recitation. Few plays require more careful 
 treatment than this. A central interest, which deepens 
 almost into tragedy, is framed in scenes of delicious 
 comedy. In the present performance the serious interest 
 of the piece disappeared, buried in spectacle, and that the 
 lighter scenes escaped the same fate was due to the genius 
 of one actress. A more remarkable instance of collapse 
 has seldom been witnessed. Mr. Coghlan is an intelligent 
 man, who can point to many successes in a short career. 
 So completely did he fail, however, to grasp the part, or 
 to render intelligible his conception, that during the trial 
 scene the audience scarcely seemed conscious of his 
 existence, and the proceedings might almost have con- 
 tinued without his presence. Against this regrettable 
 miscarriage must be placed the triumph of Miss Terry, 
 whose Portia revealed the gifts which are rarest on the 
 English stage. More adequate expression has seldom 
 been given to the light-heartedness of maidenhood, the 
 perplexities and hesitations of love, and the ineffable 
 content of gratified aspirations and ambitions. Not less 
 successful were the scenes of badinage. Portia's address 
 before the court was excellent, and the famous speech on 
 mercy assumed new beauties from a correct and an exquisite 
 delivery. A very noteworthy point in the performance 
 was the womanly interest in Shylock the endeavour to 
 win him, for his own sake, from the pursuit of his grim 
 resolve. The delivery of the lines 
 
 Shylock, there's thrice thy money offered thee, 
 
 and 
 
 Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, 
 To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death, 
 
 were dictated by sublime compassion. Beside Miss 
 Terry's performance most of the other impersonations 
 seemed weak. The most satisfactory were the Duke,oi 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 29 
 
 Mr. Collette and the Antonio of Mr. Acher ; Mr. Bancroft 
 contented himself with the small part of the Prince of 
 Morocco, of which he gave a picturesque representation ; 
 Mr. A. Wood was Launcelot Gobbo ; Miss C. Addison was 
 Nerissa, and Miss A. Wilton Jessica. 
 
 MR. GILBERT'S farcical comedy, produced at the St. May i, 1875. 
 James's Theatre, is less novel and original than most of 
 his recent works. Its author's happiest results have 
 generally been obtained when feminine wiles and lures 
 have been the subjects of satire. In his best and most 
 successful plays masculine selfishness Is arrayed against 
 extravagance of feminine impulse, and against that habit 
 of hero-worship in the softer sex on which rests no small 
 portion of male ascendancy. In this respect Mr. Gilbert's 
 work is like that of his illustrious predecessor, Thackeray. 
 The species of mock reverence and gallantry he displays 
 in the treatment of women appears, however, to be exactly 
 hit off by Chaucer, who, in " The Nonne Prest his Tale," 
 makes Chaunteclere address Pertilot : 
 
 For, al so siker as In principle, 
 Mulier est hominis confusio. 
 (Madame, the sentence of this Latyn is, 
 Woman is mannes joye and mannes blis) 
 
 words which, so far as the idea they convey is concerned, 
 would seem in place in the mouth of not a few of Mr. 
 Gilbert's characters. In " Tom Cobb " the principal 
 interest is masculine. The idea on which the action is 
 based is whimsical. It is thin and poor, however, 
 for the service it has to render, and it is elaborated 
 with more care than humour. A man who, in order to 
 escape from his creditors, shams death, and finds subse- 
 quently events are too strong for him, and prevent him 
 from resuming his rashly discarded individuality, is, 
 
30 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 in a situation of perplexity which it is easy to render 
 amusing. Mr. Gilbert has, however, cast on one side 
 the opportunities afforded him of showing the physical 
 difficulties and mental disquietudes such a situation is 
 likely to engender, and has made the assumption of a new 
 individuality the cause of comic complications. Those 
 evils, which spring from the abandonment of the old name 
 are of a kind that approach more nearly to melodrama 
 than comedy ; while those, on the contrary, he assumes 
 with his new personality belong to the most reckless farce. 
 As the work is avowedly farcical, this blending of incon- 
 gruities might be justified by success. It can plead, 
 however, no such vindication. Comic scenes, situations, 
 and characters are obtained, and much of the dialogue is 
 droll and stimulating. The whole, however, is wearisome 
 at times and not too intelligible, and wants the consistency 
 indispensable to a work of genuine art. An audience, 
 grateful to Mr. Gilbert for frequent amusement, and 
 sensible of what is meritorious in the present piece, had 
 yet discretion to perceive shortcomings ; and the favour- 
 able verdict pronounced upon the piece was modified by 
 brief but distinct expressions of disapproval. A more 
 comic effect might easily have been produced with the 
 means at hand, and the elaboration of the self-begotten 
 perplexities of the hero would have added to the proba- 
 bility of the play as much as to its interest. The 
 representation is adequate. Miss Litton, who has of 
 late presented some of the most effective pictures the 
 modern stage has witnessed, displays as a romantic 
 heroine a power of mock heroics which is almost 
 unrivalled. Her most extravagant efforts are obtained 
 without any sacrifice of grace or art. As her brother, 
 equally high-flown and sentimental with herself, Mr. Hill 
 exhibits the assumed stolidity and gravity which, in 
 connection with a full sense of drollery, make him one 
 of the most genuine of low comedians. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 31 
 
 IT needed the advent of an actor such as Signer Salvini May 15, 1875. 
 to introduce to the English public a play by a writer such 
 as Soumet. A man of note in his day, and an accepted 
 leader of the Romanticists, Soumet, even while he lived, 
 was regarded as jejune and old-fashioned, and now, thirty 
 years after his death, he has been the victim of the deep 
 oblivion that has often befallen his confreres of the Academy. 
 " Clytemnestre," "Saul," " Cleopatre," "Jeanne d'Arc " even, 
 which roused at one time transports of enthusiasm, sleep 
 peacefully on the shelves of the Theatre Francais or the 
 Odeon. " Norma " survives, but.it may be doubted whether 
 one in a hundred of those who listen to Bellini's music is 
 aware who is the inventor of the libretto. The cause for 
 this neglect may be guessed from the Italian version of 
 " Le Gladiateur " which now occupies the stage of Drury 
 Lane. In all his sympathies except one, Soumet was a 
 classicist. His regard for colour, to which he sacrifices 
 most of the requirements of dramatic art, threw him 
 into the school of the Romanticists ; but his work was 
 half-hearted, as must be all labour accomplished in defiance 
 of convictions. In " Le Gladiateur," produced at the 
 Theatre Fran9ais, in 1841, Soumet was aided by his 
 daughter, Madame Beuvain d'Altenheim. In the treat- 
 ment of the subject one can trace the influence of Klop- 
 stock, the object of Soumet's special admiration. Most of 
 the early scenes are didactic and prosaic, and three out of 
 five acts are over before the action is strengthened with 
 anything fit to be called situation or incident. The story 
 is that of a gladiator, who recognises in a girl he is ordered 
 to slay in the arena his own daughter. His prayers and 
 entreaties are vain, and he is compelled in the end to take 
 the life of his child in order to save her honour. In colour 
 the whole is remarkable. Contrasted before us are the 
 brutal indifference to the pain of others of the gladiator, 
 who supplies the public in the amphitheatre with the most 
 fiercely relished of all pleasures, and the triumphant self- 
 
32 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 immolation of the Christian. Roman citizens decked with 
 roses recline at voluptuous feasts, waited upon by slaves 
 who have neither claim nor right to anything, not even 
 the space they occupy, in whom human emotions cease to 
 be respectable, and to whom the sanctuary affords no 
 shelter. The fugitive Nazarene hides in the Catacombs, 
 the white-robed priest officiates in the temple, and the 
 empress, attended by her lictors, presides in the amphi- 
 theatre ! Behind all is heard the roar of wild beasts, 
 slowly starving in anticipation of the approaching combat. 
 The resemblance of this motive to that of " The Last Days 
 of Pompeii " cannot fail to strike the spectator. Lord 
 Lytton was, however, first in the field, and it is possible that 
 Soumet, who took his "Emilia" from the " Kenilworth " 
 of Sir Walter Scott, was indebted to the English romance, 
 then in the height of popularity. Guiraud's "Virginie," 
 produced on the 28th of April, 1827, shortly after the death 
 of Talma, who was to have played Virginius, has, however, 
 a strong resemblance to much of the action, and it is more 
 than probable that a search among the numerous classical 
 plays of the same epoch would reveal further indebtedness. 
 Corneille's " Polyeucte " and the " Caligula " of Alexandre 
 Dumas approach closely " Le Gladiateur" in conception 
 and in point of execution. What motive induced Signor 
 Salvini to select this play in preference to " Polyeucte," to 
 " The Gladiators of Ravenna " of Frederick Hulm, other- 
 wise the Count Munch von Bellinghausen, and other works 
 of more character and power, is at once apparent. In 
 the work of Soumet the interest centres in the gladiator, 
 other characters serving only as foils to its grandeur, while 
 in the plays which in story most closely approach it the 
 main interest is feminine. An interpretation such as that 
 of Signor Salvini affords " Le Gladiateur" a chance its 
 author could scarcely have anticipated, and forces, so to 
 speak, into evidence merits that otherwise might have 
 passed unseen. Ligier, his predecessor in the part, gave a 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 33 
 
 certain brutal splendour to the character which Signor 
 Salvini passes over, but failed to make it attractive or 
 sympathetic. 
 
 The beauty of Signor Salvini's acting is incontestable. 
 Each varying emotion is stirred as we see him, with head 
 erect, face successive and recurrent waves of calamity. A 
 slave in the presence of men without hearts and gods without 
 power, there remains only for him and those dearer to him 
 than life the slave's one refuge death. His first entry 
 discloses a rude and illiterate man, careless concerning the 
 new doctrines and theories he hears in the Catacombs, and 
 occupied only with the burning desire to find again his 
 child, stolen from him in infancy. His actions are equally 
 barbaric and picturesque. When he arraigns the impotent 
 gods, and threatens their altars, it is no Prometheus 
 defying the thunderbolts ; it is a fierce and turbulent 
 mind conscious of the strength of the frame it controls, 
 and seeking to enclose his enemies and rend them. The 
 movements of his arms are those of a man who tears at 
 the throat of a tiger. In the scenes with Faustina, the 
 empress mother, to whose unscrupulous cruelty he owes 
 his worst calamities, he comports himself as one accustomed 
 to render homage, but free to manifest rebuke and loathing, 
 by that indifference to death which raises the slave out of 
 reach of his master. A fine effect is obtained when, seek- 
 ing refuge in the Temple of Jupiter, and hearing that the 
 shrine extends no protection to slaves, he strikes the 
 statue and defies the deity, to whom the sight of chains 
 and suffering fails to appeal. In the fourth act the gladia- 
 tor appears in the circus, and essays with practised hand 
 the weapons to which he will shortly entrust his life. His 
 bearing is bold and jubilant, and he addresses with easy 
 irony "his dear Romans," who greet him with a shout of 
 recognition. In place of the famished lion or the Dacian 
 warrior he expects to encounter comes, however, a Christian 
 maiden. Disliking his task, he seeks to evade its accom- 
 
 3 
 
34 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 plishment. For the maiden, however, there is no choice 
 except death at his hands or from the maw of the lion. 
 He lifts accordingly the veil to strike strongly and merci- 
 fully, and on the bared shoulder recognises the birth-mark 
 of his child. From this moment to the time when, de- 
 spairing, he takes the life he is powerless to save, his act- 
 ing is supreme. There is more pain and agitation than 
 surprise at finding his daughter in the woman whom, from 
 some inward and mysterious impulse, he had felt bound to 
 protect. As he turns up his face, fear, anxiety, and 
 supplication chase each other across it. His eye sweeps 
 slowly round the circle, seeking one sign of human sym- 
 pathy, and finding none. A blank wall of stony-hearted 
 cruelty faces him, and the only effect of his appeals is to 
 rouse a yell of dissatisfaction when it appears that the 
 public may be cheated of its rights. All doubt on this ques- 
 tion is soon at rest. The priest speaks : " Lo schiavo non 
 ha figli " " A slave has no children ". In his fear for his 
 newly-found offspring he towers above her, absolutely 
 covering her with his love, then bears her across the arena 
 taking from her neck and brow the kisses he has hungered 
 for so long, and now has so little time to collect. So 
 superb is the bearing, indeed, and so strong the notion 
 of the miraculous strength of physical frame inspired by 
 love, that the device of overturning a wall in presence of 
 the audience to reach again his child, invented to give 
 semblance of strength to weaker actors, detracts from the 
 impression he has conveyed. 
 
 Fine, however, as is the impersonation, there is one 
 point on which we feel it is open to improvement. 
 The continued practice of butchery in the amphitheatre 
 communicates to the face and bearing a callous indifference 
 and brutality we fail to perceive. Nobility should reveal 
 itself behind this. So dignified and noble is the appearance 
 of Signer Salvini, it is difficult to believe in his practice of 
 a profession like that of gladiator. A stronger expression 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 35 
 
 of blood-lust is necessary to the full development of the 
 character. This, so far as we can trust past records, 
 Ligier seems to have supplied. The general performance 
 was higher than that of "Othello". Signora L. Papa 
 Giovagnoli as Faustina displayed flashes of genuine power. 
 
 MR. BYRON'S " Weak Woman " is one of his happiest 
 efforts. It can scarcely be considered a comedy in the 
 common acceptation of the word, but it is more sym- 
 metrical than most of his works, as bright as any, and com- 
 paratively free from those verbal distortions and quibbles 
 which have often led Mr. Byron astray. It has some 
 -characterisation also. The chief defects appear to spring 
 from a course now common in the production of comedy, 
 that, viz., of writing with a view to the company by which 
 the piece has to be played. In dramas of small pretension 
 this course is defensible enough ; it is fatal to high-class 
 work. Let us have a good comedy, and let the company 
 that can act it then be sought. It will, we venture to say, 
 Le quickly forthcoming. " Weak Woman " turns upon a 
 will made by an eccentric bachelor, in which, in order 
 to defeat fortune-hunters, he leaves his property to one 
 of two nieces, who are to marry at the same time, and 
 only discover after marriage who is the heiress. There 
 is much mirth in the action, and the result is a success. 
 Mr. Terry, acting in a comic part, was far too farcical for 
 comedy, but proved greatly to the taste of the audience, 
 and was clever in his extravagance. Other parts were 
 fairly played, Miss Marion Terry marking a distinct 
 advance in a career that is full of promise. 
 
 A ROMANTIC drama, by Mr. H. Herman, produced at May 22, 1875. 
 the Charing Cross Theatre, with the title of " Jeanne 
 Dubarry," is a curious attempt to do for the mistress of 
 Louis the Fifteenth what M. Victor Hugo has done for 
 
36 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 the mistress of Richelieu. The characters of the two 
 heroines are, however, scarcely more alike than the 
 talents of the dramatists. Between her i.o w^hom the 
 Cardinal in the height of his power laid siege for years, 
 and for whose sake he altered the laws of France, and the 
 coarse-minded and foul-mouthed woman who sacrificed at 
 the foot of the scaffold a hundred innocent heads in a vain 
 attempt to save her own polluted existence, there is nothing 
 in common except the bald fact of want of chastity. No 
 possible treatment can lend dignity to Madame Dubarry, 
 or arouse the slightest sympathy with her career, or belief 
 in the possibility of her amendment. The mere attempt 
 to do so is apt to breed resentment in the mind. An effort 
 has been made to incorporate with " Marion Delorme " 
 portions of " La Fille de Madame Angot ". We have, 
 accordingly, in the play a curious complication. Madame 
 Dubarry, who at one time was known as Mdlle. Lange, 
 is represented as taking the name of Jeanne Delorme, in 
 order to pass through adventures, a portion of which is 
 ascribed in one play to another Delorme, \vhile the 
 remaining portion, in a second play, is attributed to 
 another Mdlle. Lange. The treatment is less confused, 
 and, indeed, less incapable than such an imbroglio might 
 lead one to expect. There is, in fact, a certain measure 
 of force and earnestness which, if the subject were less 
 repellent, and the arrangement more dexterous, might 
 have given the whole a chance of existence. A scene 
 with which the second act concludes might, with altera- 
 tions, be rendered really effective. The story shows 
 Dubarry under a false name winning the love of a young- 
 nobleman, whose only apparent recommendation is that 
 he is the most inveterate of her libellers. Bitter atone- 
 ment is made for the success with which her early efforts 
 are crowned, since the hero on discovering the truth uses 
 to herself and her royal lover language which brings upon 
 him condemnation to death. In his cell he is visited by 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 37 
 
 Jeanne, who vainly tempts him to escape by means of a 
 blank pardon she possesses. Like his prototype, Didier, 
 he sees only the shameful side of the proposal. It is use- 
 less to follow further the parallel between the two plays or 
 the story of the more modern. The acting was not of a 
 kind to give "Jeanne Dubarry" any special interest. Miss 
 Lynd, who charged herself with so ungrateful a role, had 
 not strength to render it sympathetic. Other parts were 
 played by actors unused to swords and hair-powder, and 
 the whole performance took but a slight hold upon the 
 public. 
 
 COMPARED with their French rivals, English dramatists May 29, 1875. 
 seem like guerillas beside regular troops. There is no 
 pretence of obedience to discipline. Each man makes 
 war on his own account, and the success or failure of an 
 individual undertaking does not in the slightest degree 
 influence the general campaign. Of the three writers 
 who supply the public with nine-tenths of what claim to 
 be modern comedies, Mr. Albery is the most independent 
 and undisciplined. Mr. Gilbert aims at shapeliness and 
 regularity of composition, and is eccentric only in the 
 choice of subject, his happiest efforts being those in which 
 his world is ideal and his characters are fantastic. Mr. 
 Byron burnishes conventional and old-fashioned characters 
 until they shine with all the gloss of novelty, and brightens 
 commonplace situations and action with dialogue not less 
 amusing than extravagant and out of place. Mr. Albery 
 lastly asserts an entire independence of law or control. 
 While out-doing Mr. Gilbert in fantasy, he leaves his 
 characters in what is supposed to be a real world, and he 
 introduces into the midst of a carnival of madness pro- 
 ceedings so stagey and commonplace that Mr. Byron in 
 his moment of utter need would shrink from their em- 
 ployment. 
 
3$ DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 His " Spendthrift ; or, the Scrivener's Daughter/ 7 " 
 given at the Olympic Theatre, is announced as a comedy 
 of adventure, in five acts. The title originally chosen r 
 " The Good Samaritan," was abandoned, as we under- 
 stand, in consequence of an objection to its scriptural 
 derivation. Had this name been retained, and had the 
 piece been further described as a whimsicality, or some- 
 thing of the kind, it \vould have come before the public with 
 a better chance of being comprehended and accepted. As it 
 stands, it is more like a perplexing dream than a rational 
 composition. Place the scene in fairyland, the incidents- 
 would find acceptance. There is a sort of sequence about 
 the events which, in a world where motive and custom are 
 quite different from what they now are, might render them 
 comprehensible. In commonplace and matter-of-fact 
 regions, however, we hesitate to believe in the possibility 
 of men being influenced by such motives or led to such 
 actions as are presented. A portion of the plot will serve 
 to speak for the remainder. A gentleman, going home 
 at night, sees a stranger in the hands of the constables. 
 Being a good Samaritan, he takes charge of him, and 
 offers to lead him home. In a pocket-book he finds a 
 name and address, which he, not unnaturally, but errone- 
 ously, assumes to be those of the bearer. The drunkard 
 is accordingly led to the house of a stranger, and, with 
 due solemnity, marshalled by his friend into the library or 
 drawing-room. No servant has been aroused. In the 
 room, asleep, is a lady, assumably the wife of the drunkard- 
 Without awaking her our good Samaritan officiates as the 
 valet to his helpless friend, taking off his wig, hat, boots, 
 and coat, and sending him to bed in what he assumes to- 
 be his room. Bridging over the events which follow, and 
 which would take some time to narrate, we pass at once 
 to the conclusion of this episode. The host, returning,, 
 furious with jealousy, from an exploration of the neigh- 
 bourhood, finds a coat not his in his drawing-room, a. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 39 
 
 stranger occupying the bedroom of his son, and a second 
 installed in that of his wife. 
 
 Absurd and improbable as all this seems baldly stated, 
 it appears yet more preposterous when the chain of events 
 which lead to the position is made apparent. The only 
 verdict, indeed, that can be passed upon the piece is that 
 it is lunatic. It abounds with fine touches, it is full of 
 cleverness of construction and wit of dialogue. Playful 
 and graceful allusions are not wanting, ingenuity is re- 
 dundant, and good and thoroughly dramatic situations are 
 obtained. Yet the result is a failure, which the cheers of 
 a good-natured and singularly appreciative audience cannot 
 conceal. Abundant proof is afforded by late experiments 
 that Mr. Albery is the most original, witty, and inventive 
 of English dramatists and that he is also the least capable 
 of giving a fitting shape to the quaint ideas with which his 
 brain teems. But one course appears open to him, if the 
 world is to benefit by his efforts. He must take an 
 experienced and prosaic collaborates, who will supply 
 him with ballast, and keep him generally in order. 
 
 The acting was adequate. Mr. G. W. Anson, who 
 bids fair to be one of the best low comedians our stage 
 has seen, w r as admirable as a tipsy baronet. Miss Fowler, 
 whose progress has been remarkable, and who, in not 
 more than two or three years, has succeeded in proving 
 herself an artist, played with much vivacity the part of a 
 gay and coquettish heroine. Mr. Neville gave a spirited 
 and intelligent rendering of the hero, and Mrs. Stephens, 
 Mrs. Viner, Messrs. Harcourt, Stephens, Vollaire, and 
 Forbes Robertson, acted with an ensemble now happily 
 more common upon the London stage than it was a few 
 years ago. 
 
 IN playing Hamlet before an English audience Signer June 5, 1875 
 Salvini claims the highest honours of art, and challenges 
 
~|O DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 the most outspoken and deliberate verdict of criticism. 
 English acquiescence in the pretensions of foreigners with 
 regard to Hamlet has been more apparent than real. 
 When Teutonic enthusiasm maintains that the character 
 belongs to Germany rather than England, and asserts that 
 German criticism first discovered its significance and in- 
 terpreted its aim, the boast is received with a silence which 
 is ascribable to amusement rather than apathy. Foreign 
 interpreters are received with courtesy and attention, and 
 their performances are studied with interest involving a 
 recognition of the compliment paid to our drama. Herr 
 Emil Devrient, however, and M. Rouviere have left little 
 abiding impression upon our stage, and the influence of 
 Mr. Fechter is valuable rather for what it has removed 
 than for what it has supplied. 
 
 Will the influence of Signer Salvini be more powerful 
 and more durable than that of his predecessors ? Here 
 is a question it would be rashness to answer. That his 
 first appearance was a triumph is established fact. In an 
 audience composed largely of actors, Signor Salvini 
 obtained a reception such as no previous Hamlet, we are 
 disposed to believe, has ever witnessed. Respectful and 
 earnest attention accompanied him throughout, every out- 
 burst elicited a sympathetic response, and the manifesta- 
 tions at the close of the acts had so much of southern 
 warmth that the actor might have been excused for believing 
 himself among his own countrymen. Enthusiastic as it 
 was, this reception was not excessive. No actor of our day 
 has brought to the part of Hamlet equal intelligence and 
 mastery of art, equal ripeness of judgment and perfection 
 of method. From beginning to end the conception was 
 sustained, while the illustrations by which it was made 
 apparent were subtle in suggestion and splendid in effect. 
 
 The triumph obtained is the more significant as the 
 version in which the actor appears is contemptible. While 
 losing, like all translations, the quaint, terse, and pro- 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 41 
 
 verbial style of utterance characteristic of Shakspeare, 
 it is more commonplace and conventional than that of 
 Ducis, and almost as daring in excision. Among the parts 
 which disappear are the scene with the recorders, that with 
 the players, Hamlet's wild banter of his friends upon the 
 disappearance of the ghost, and those portions of the play 
 generally which show Hamlet as the man of reflection. 
 One instance of the want of intelligence in alterations 
 which might solace the shade of Tate will suffice for all. 
 The third act closes with Hamlet's advice to his mother: 
 
 Vanne. II tuo re cerca ; 
 Ogni mia voce a lui ripeti, e narra 
 Che verace non e, ma simulata 
 Questa demenza mia, si vanne Oh madre Addio. 
 
 These words, delivered with mocking emphasis, are not 
 only at variance with the attitude of Hamlet as previously 
 exhibited, but derogatory from the character of the Queen, 
 whose love for her son, winning from him pardon and 
 re-awakening affection, constitutes her sole apology. To 
 the defects of the version may very probably be ascribed 
 some sense of shortcoming lurking behind the idea of 
 triumph conveyed overpoweringly by the nature of the 
 acting and that of its reception. 
 
 In all tragic acting criticism has necessarily to concern 
 itself with the conception and the execution. The actor 
 may, it is true, claim a measure of the right accorded the 
 author in his treatment of historical characters. As the 
 dramatist is judged by the strength of the character he has 
 depicted rather than by its historical accuracy, so the actor 
 may advance a right to take his ow T n conception and work 
 it out his own way. So long as no violation of the ex- 
 pressed intention of the poet is attempted, this may 
 be conceded. It is none the less true that the world has 
 seen Hamlets in which the execution w r as masterly while 
 the conception was so weak as to be dishonouring to 
 
42 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Shakspeare. Such was, in some respects, the Hamlet of 
 Mr. Fechter. No charge of this kind can be brought 
 against Signor Salvini. His Hamlet is fine in conception ; 
 the only room for doubt is whether it is the Hamlet 
 Shakspeare drew. The view is, at least, weaker than 
 the interpretation, and there are moments when we ask 
 whether Hamlet may not disappear and be lost behind 
 beauty of exposition. It may be conceded that a single 
 performance of Hamlet in a large theatre, by Signor 
 Salvini, is little upon which to form a decisive judg- 
 ment. So far as we can judge, Signor Salvini presents 
 Hamlet as a man full of generous and glowing impulses, 
 saddened by the proofs around him of falsehood and crime 
 in those to whom he has been wont to look with most 
 affection. He shows him vacillating and uncertain in 
 mood, timid in action, and shamming madness in order to 
 hide infirmity of purpose and prepare a deed he has not 
 heart to execute. This view is more than defensible, it is 
 wholly and absolutely true. It is not, however, all the 
 truth. Behind Hamlet is Orestes. A father's murder has 
 to be revenged. It is not, moreover, the blood unjustly 
 spilt that cries to Heaven ; it is a claim absolute and 
 direct, for vengeance, in which human authority is backed 
 by the supreme command of fate. The father demands 
 the son's arm and sword ; but that father, coming again as 
 he does from beyond the portal of the grave, is fate. 
 From the moment that this mission is upon him Hamlet 
 is under the spell of destiny ; he is a minister of divine 
 decrees, a sword in the hand of justice, certain itself to be 
 broken while it smites. Still more bitter appear to him now 
 the problems his surroundings as well as his nature had 
 been apt to beget. Before he knows the sum of his own 
 calamity he re-shapes the cry of the Preacher 
 
 How weary, flat, stale, and unprofitable 
 Seem to me all the uses of this world. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 43 
 
 The Ghost appears, and thenceforward the mind, eager 
 and questioning, strives to get rid of the unsought burden 
 thrust upon it. Shift as it will, however, the pressure be- 
 comes heavier ; fate itself interposes to check every attempt 
 at evasion ; and the final action, which seems ascribable 
 to a desire to revenge his own slaughter as much as that 
 of his father, is yet felt to be approaching and inevitable. 
 " If it be now, 'tis not to come ; if it be not to come, it will 
 be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come ; the readiness 
 is all," are words the downright fatalism of which contrasts 
 strikingly with the questioning in the first, and, indeed, all 
 the early soliloquies. Signor Salvini fails to convey this 
 sense of the empire of fate. He is too interested in what 
 proceeds around him too tender, too sympathetic, too 
 sorrowful even. 
 
 Leaving aside this one point of conception, with these 
 views on which many will not agree, and coming to the 
 interpretation, this is, indeed, superb. Hamlet's 'bearing 
 before the Ghost, his manner of watching the king during 
 the play-scene, his delirium as he throw's into the air the 
 loose leaves of the manuscript he has kept in his hand 
 during the performance ; his treatment of his mother; his 
 recoil upon the re-appearance of his father ; his duel with 
 Laertes ; and his dying-scene, with the keen craving of a 
 weak nature for those demonstrations of human sympathy 
 which stronger spirits would scorn, are splendid proofs of 
 the combination of intellectual capacity and physical 
 means. The humanising influence of the farewell to 
 Horatio is, indeed, an admirably characteristic trait, on 
 which a northern invention would not readily have hit. A 
 strong nature may say, like Vittoria Corrombona : 
 
 I shall welcome death, 
 As princes do some great ambassadors. 
 I'll meet thy weapon halfway ; 
 
 and may insist on precedence in slaughter : 
 
44 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 I will be waited on in death, my servant 
 Shall never go before me. 
 
 Hamlet demands, or at least welcomes, the " pious 
 drops," even while he feels that death is a release, and 
 conjures his friend : 
 
 Absent thee from felicity a while, 
 
 And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain 
 
 To tell my story. 
 
 Not less interesting than the Othello, and scarcely per- 
 haps, if keenly scrutinised, less illustrative, Signer Salvini's 
 Hamlet, while it is one of those performances which stand 
 out in art as landmarks, fails, perhaps, to afford any large 
 amount of suggestion to those who have made the charac- 
 ter of Hamlet their study. The light that breaks over 
 Hamlet can, indeed, scarcely be expected to come from 
 the south. 
 
 e ic,, 1875. THE influence of French schools of art upon the 
 English drama does not end with the speedy production 
 upon our stage of the freshest or most striking of Parisian 
 novelties. In cases where plot and characters are of 
 home growth a certain amount of indebtedness to French 
 models in method and in conception is still not seldom 
 traceable. No single French play or novel can be ad- 
 vanced as having supplied the " New Magdalen," a 
 character which is yet as direct an outcome of French 
 literature and French modes of thought as the latest 
 heroine of M. Dumas fils or M. Emile Augier. " A Nine 
 Days' Wonder," by Mr. Hamilton Ai'de, is, apparently, of 
 Parisian origin. It is advanced as original, and is, indeed, 
 a version of a novel by the same author, the publication 
 of which it anticipated, as a means of escaping the piracy 
 to which, in the present discreditable state of the laws 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 45 
 
 affecting literary property, the novelist is exposed. Of 
 the essentials to a drama, only one, the language, is 
 English, and this is the weakest portion of the play. 
 Intrigue, characters, sentiment, construction, all are 
 French more characteristically French, indeed, than 
 those of any recent adaptation, with, perhaps, one 
 exception. So completely masters of dramatic art are the 
 French that a man who has not daring for a self-borne 
 flight can scarcely do better than study their movements. 
 Mr. Gilbert alone, among English dramatists from whom 
 the public expects a constant supply of novelty, has 
 strength of wing, for Mr. Byron's bat-like flights can 
 scarcely be reckoned as soaring, and Mr. Albery's course 
 is so bold and so eccentric that it takes him mostly outside 
 the ken of ordinary gazers. 
 
 Maternal sacrifice is, broadly stated, the subject of Mr. 
 Aide's plot. His heroine, Mrs. Fitzroy, is a combination 
 of Clorinde in " L'Aventuriere," and Leonora in " Dalila," 
 with other characters in modern French comedy. Married 
 to a man who has used her beauty as a lure and a decoy, 
 and has repaid her assistance with cruelty and even with 
 violence, she has eloped from him. A duel between her 
 husband and the companion of her flight has ended in the 
 death of the former, and left her free to contract a second 
 marriage, which has proved not much more happy than 
 the first. Death, natural this time, has set her once more 
 free, but left her dependent upon her son by the first 
 marriage. Christian Douglas, who, to avoid the shame 
 attending his early associations, has changed his name, 
 allows his mother half his income, but abstains from 
 seeing her. The pair thus severed meet at length under 
 strange conditions. Undeterred from the contemplation 
 of a fresh marriage by the bitter experience of her previous 
 nuptials, Mrs. Fitzroy is seeking to obtain a hold over the 
 heart of Mr. Vavasour, a widower whose first offers, a 
 quarter of a century previously, she had refused. \Vhile 
 
46 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 residing under the shelter of his roof, weaving ingeniously 
 her toils around him, and shunning as much as possible 
 the persecution of the village gossips and scandal-mongers, 
 already too much disposed to speculate and form the worst 
 conclusions concerning her, Mrs. Fitzroy is startled by the 
 appearance of her son. Her delirious entreaties that he 
 will depart, and leave her in peace in the last shelter she 
 can find, prevail upon the youth, who retires from the 
 field. When, however, the mother finds that this son was 
 betrothed to the daughter of her host, and that in taking 
 his departure he has sacrificed his happiness for a mother 
 who had deserted his infancy, her better nature awakes. 
 A sacrifice such as this must not be accomplished. She it 
 is who will depart. For a moment Mr. Vavasour and his 
 daughter are under the impression that both have been 
 fooled. An explanation shows that Christian is true, and 
 that the motive to flight on the part of Mrs. Fitzroy is 
 noble. 
 
 The view of the relations between mother and son Mr. 
 Aide has taken is wholly French. English ideas impose 
 upon Christian no such necessity or duty of sacrifice as 
 that on which he acts, and English sentiment regards with 
 little favour such a struggle between parent and child as 
 is presented. Only in French art, moreover, is the presence 
 possible in a house such as that of Mr. Vavasour of a 
 woman whose antecedents are as those of Mrs. Fitzroy. As 
 a result, perhaps, of its essentially French character, the 
 play has a neatness of construction rare in English art. 
 Its action is easy and natural, and the situations obtained 
 are fairly dramatic. Some of the contrasts afforded are, 
 indeed, striking, and the scene in which father and 
 daughter, equally apprehensive, peruse jointly a letter 
 which to the one brings life and hope, and to the other 
 despair and death, is highly ingenious. Youth is, of 
 course, the victor in the strife, since literature, like life 
 itself and like fate, is youth's praiser and sycophant. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 47 
 
 Nine days serve for the action, which passes in two 
 scenes. The dialogue is commonplace. Some ingenuity 
 is shown in the treatment of the comic characters, most 
 of which are close sketches from life. In the lighter 
 scenes the acting is praiseworthy. Miss Robertson 
 fails, however, to render sympathetic the character of a 
 woman who, with the knowledge of a shameful secret in 
 her heart, ventures to present herself in a house into 
 which she should never have entered. Admirable control 
 of resources is shown in the scenes of passionate entreaty, 
 but emotional acting is not Miss Robertson's forte, and 
 her pathos was never moving. We venture to indicate to 
 Miss Robertson an oversight, remarkable in the case of an 
 artist so clever as herself. While her hair in front is 
 thickly streaked with white, to indicate the ravages of 
 time, a profusion of golden ringlets behind exhibit them- 
 selves in startling mockery. Mr. Hare's performance of 
 Mr. Vavasour has all the minute realism of his well-known 
 method, and is equally picturesque and effective. Mr. 
 Kendal is earnest and manly as the young soldier, and 
 Miss Hollingshead tender and sympathetic as Kate Vava- 
 sour. When a little evidence of effort is banished, Miss 
 Hollingshead will prove herself a valuable actress. Two 
 pictures, each excellent in its way, are presented by Miss 
 Hughes and Mr. R. Cathcart. The former gives a capital 
 delineation of an old maid, and the latter portrays to the 
 life a meek curate. Mr. Cathcart is a conscientious and 
 capable actor, whose merits should some day receive a 
 recognition hitherto denied them. 
 
 FOR her benefit, at the Princess's Theatre, Miss June 26, 1875 
 Helen Barry made her first appearance as Katharine in 
 " Katharine and Petruchio," Garrick's compressed version 
 of "The Taming of the Shrew ". Only on similar occasions 
 
48 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 is there a chance of seeing this most amusing, spirited, 
 and boisterous of Shakspeare's comedies. Those, how- 
 ever, who witness the performance of the piece as it is 
 now given are easily reconciled to the idea that it will not 
 soon be repeated. Times have changed since Garrick 
 was allowed to mutilate Shakspeare at his pleasure, and 
 the emendations which passed muster with a less critical 
 public are now 7 , or should be, wholly intolerable. Genest, 
 whose verdicts, as a rule, are in advance of his age, de- 
 clares that this play, as it is altered, is the best after-piece 
 on the stage. Its mirthfulness is, however, obtained by 
 the sacrifice of Shakspeare's intention. Those who know 
 Shakspeare only in the closet will not believe how com- 
 pletely he is travestied. A single instance will suffice to 
 show the nature of the alterations that were perpetrated 
 by a man who was considered in his day a Shakspearian 
 authority. One of the means adopted by Petruchio to 
 tame his fro ward spouse is extravagance of unreasonable 
 complaint, which shall cow her and disgust her with her 
 own violence. Thus, when the cook brings in well- 
 appointed meats he declares them burnt to a coal ; and 
 when the tailor supplies costly and fashionable attire he 
 pronounces it unwearable. Katharine stands thus a 
 chance of being sent to bed supperless, and conducted to 
 her father's house with no change of dress. In the 
 unreasonableness lies all the motive. " The meat were 
 well if you were so contented," says the disconsolate wife. 
 Of the head-gear she declares, " I like the cap " ; and of 
 the habit : 
 
 I never saw a better-fashioned gown, 
 
 More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable. 
 
 When, however, the meat is represented as in truth black 
 as a coal, w r hen hat and dress are caricatures, the wrath 
 of Petruchio becomes justifiable, and the only thing inex- 
 plicable is Katharine's readiness to accept such things. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 49 
 
 So filthy is the joint produced that the stage business 
 ordinarily practised, and now again repeated, is to make 
 Petruchio rub it on the face of the cook, who departs 
 looking like a negro. Every kind of absurdity is permitted. 
 The attendants waiting upon Petruchio are like the comic 
 servants of pantomime, and the tailor, when Grumio 
 menaces him, stands in the middle of the bonnet-box 
 he has brought, and asks, " Would you hit a man in his 
 own shop ? " That these things produce roars of laughter 
 may easily be conceived. If the name of Shakspeare is 
 removed from such fooling, moreover, it may be pardon- 
 able enough. When announced as his it is wholly 
 indefensible. It was on the i8th of March, 1754, Garrick 
 first produced this travesty. Yates as Grumio, Woodward 
 as Petruchio, and Mrs. Pritchard first, and subsequently 
 Mrs. Clive, as Katharine, shared the responsibility of the 
 invention of the comic business. 
 
 Miss Barry plays Katharine with some force, and looks 
 the part thoroughly. She is, however, apt to smile too 
 much on slight provocation, and her bad temper seems 
 only skin-deep. Mr. W. Rignold is the exact representa- 
 tive of the Petruchio whom Garrick, not Shakspeare, 
 conceived. Miss Carlisle plays the part of Bianca, now 
 reduced to a mere shadow, and Mr. Brittain Wright, as 
 Grumio, gives extravagant emphasis to all the absurdities 
 associated with the part. Such performances are dis- 
 graceful to our national art, and it is only by transferring 
 on to the shoulders of their predecessors the responsibility 
 that our actors can escape a serious charge. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Princess's: "The Lady of Lyons". Globe: "Love and 
 Honour" a comedy drama, by Campbell Clarke. 
 Drury Lane : " The Shaughraun," a drama in four 
 acts, by Dion Boucicault. Gaiety: "My Awful Dad" 
 a comedy in two acts, by Charles Mathews. Strand : 
 "Flamingo," a folie musicale, by F. Hay and F. W. 
 Green. 
 
 14, 1875. THE performance, at the Princess's, by Miss Ellen 
 Terry, of the character of Pauline, in the "Lady of 
 Lyons," gives to an entertainment intended for one night 
 only, and appealing to a very limited section of the public, 
 an interest a similar occasion has seldom claimed. Its 
 effect is to set the seal upon a growing reputation, and 
 to make evident the fact that an actress of a high, if not 
 the highest, order has arisen in our midst. One of the 
 pleasantest, inasmuch as it is one of the rarest tasks the 
 critic is called upon to discharge is that of heralding to 
 the world the advent of genius. So vast a space sepa- 
 rates, ordinarily, aspiration from accomplishment, the 
 critic's duty becomes merged in that of the censor, and the 
 public comes to regard him as one whose sole function is 
 to point out inequalities of workmanship and failure of 
 effort. In the case of things dramatic and histrionic, it is 
 rarely indeed the critic can do more than suggest some 
 promise of talent behind crude performance some glimpse 
 of meaning or intention in a commonplace rendering. 
 There is, accordingly, a pleasure of no ordinary kind in 
 
 (50) 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 51 
 
 announcing a fact Miss Terry's recent performances have 
 fully established, viz., that an actress has developed in 
 whom there is that perception of analogies, that insight into 
 mysteries, and that power of interpretation, on which the 
 world has bestowed the name of genius. Circumstances 
 took Miss Terry from the stage at a time when men dimly 
 perceived in her the promise which has since been realised. 
 It is probable that some delay in that maturity of style in- 
 dispensable to perfection in histrionic art has resulted from 
 this break in her career. The interval can scarcely have 
 been misspent, however, since Miss Terry re-appeared on 
 the stage with ripened powers and with improved method. 
 After one or two attractive performances in parts which 
 showed one side only of her talent, Miss Terry went to the 
 Prince of Wales's Theatre, and played Portia, in the 
 " Merchant of Venice," and Clara Douglas in " Money". 
 To these roles is now added a third, the result of the three 
 being to prove Miss Terry a subtle interpreter of poetic 
 character, and an admirable exponent of various phases of 
 passion. 
 
 Physical advantages are, of course, an all-important 
 portion of the stock-in-trade of an actress. The long, 
 tender lines of a singularly graceful figure add wonderful 
 picturesqueness to the illustrations Miss Terry affords. Her 
 presentation of Pauline comprised a series of pictures each 
 more graceful than the preceding, and all too good for the 
 lackadaisical play in which she appeared. They would 
 have been perfectly in place as illustrations to some Border 
 ballad or legend of the " Round Table ". More important, 
 however, than this gift of picturesqueness, magical as is its 
 effect in illustrating art, is the power of getting inside a 
 character and revealing it to the public. This, in the case 
 of Portia, Miss Terry does, showing one of the loveliest of 
 Shakspearian creations in colours in which few among 
 students even had dressed it, flooding it, so to speak, with 
 a light of illumination. As interpretation, her Pauline 
 
52 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 is less successful. Pride, which in the character of 
 Pauline divides the empire with Love, in the interpretation 
 makes scarcely a fight. Conceding, however, that the 
 conception is wrong to this extent, the impersonation is. 
 singularly fine. A score of natural and artistic touches 
 reveal the tenderness and longing of the woman's heart, 
 while the rendering of the fourth act, in which Pauline 
 seeks to force herself from the environing arms of her 
 parents and join her departing lover, whose words of fare- 
 well sting her to madness, is one of those pieces of 
 electrical acting that produce upon the mind an effect of 
 which art in other developments seems scarcely capable. 
 It is too early yet to gauge fully the talent which has re- 
 vealed itself. It seems probable that Miss Terry's powers 
 will be restrained to depicting the grace, tenderness, and 
 passion of love. In the short scene in the third act, in 
 which Pauline chides her lover for treachery, the actress, 
 scarcely rises to the requisite indignation. Limiting, how- 
 ever, what is to be hoped from her within the bounds 
 indicated, what chance is there not afforded ? Juliet in 
 the stronger scenes would be, we should fancy, outside the 
 physical resources of the artist. Beatrice, Rosalind, Viola, 
 Imogen, Miranda, and a score other characters of the 
 most delicate and fragrant beauty are, however, all within 
 what appears to be her range. In the present state of 
 public feeling respecting the Shakspearian drama, it will 
 be strange indeed if some manager does not take the oppor- 
 tunity of mounting some of those plays for which her 
 talent is so eminently adapted. The period during which 
 an actress can play such parts with effect is brief ; and a 
 portion of Miss Terry's career has already been lost so far 
 as the stage is concerned. There will be regrettable waste 
 if talent so specially suited to the Shakspearian drama is 
 confined to Lord Lytton's facile sentiment and sparkling 
 rhetoric. Mr. Coghlan lacks much of being able to play 
 the parts he assumes. His Claude Melnottc is weak and 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 53 
 
 unequal. He has, however, the "making of an actor," 
 and is at least the most competent of our jeunes premiers. 
 
 THE annual experiment made by Mdlle. Beatrice in Aug. 21, 1875 
 producing, one after another, in London, adaptations of 
 those pieces which have obtained most vogue in Paris, 
 would have more interest and value were the conditions 
 with which English art is environed less oppressive. The 
 change of aspect which social relations receive when a 
 play is transferred from the French stage to the English 
 is fatal to dramatic effect, and not one in ten of the 
 adaptations which constitute the most important portion 
 of each year's dramatic novelty does justice to the original, 
 or gives the English playgoer any insight into French 
 modes of thought or workmanship. In the case of " Love 
 and Honour," as Mr. Campbell Clarke has christened his 
 version of " Monsieur Alphonse," by M. Dumas fils, the 
 alteration that has been made is slight. It is none the 
 less destructive of value, and even of meaning. In 
 " Monsieur Alphonse," M. Dumas preaches boldly the 
 lesson of pardon for adultery which Kotzebue timidly 
 advanced in the " Stranger". His heroine, Raymonde de 
 Montaiglin, has been false to her marriage vows, under 
 circumstances which are supposed by the author to palliate 
 her offence, but, according to an average English verdict, 
 add to its culpability. Married happily to a man who has 
 enveloped her in love and trust, Raymonde has sacrificed 
 his honour and her own to one for whom she retains no 
 feeling except contempt. No excuse of passion can be 
 pleaded, nor can she even advance the unsatisfied longing 
 of the femme incomprise. The only plea to be urged in her 
 behalf is that which Watts has enshrined in two lines, 
 probably, whether for purpose of banter or serious counsel, 
 the most familiar in the language : 
 
54 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Satan finds some mischiei" still 
 For idle hands to do. 
 
 From this miserable intrigue of which the heroine, 
 so soon as she is able to take a view of her own conduct, 
 is poignantly and deservedly ashamed springs a daughter. 
 During years the girl, brought up in solitude by her father, 
 has received occasional visits from her mother. A con- 
 templated marriage between Octave, known only to his 
 child as Monsieur Alphonse, and Madame Guichard, a 
 vulgar woman, whom he seeks for the sake of her fortune, 
 necessitates the finding of a new home for the child. 
 Octave hits upon the plan of confiding it to M. de 
 Montaiglin. Unsuspectingly the husband accepts the 
 trust, and Adrienne becomes a resident in the same house 
 with her mother. It is needless to say what processes 
 lead to the discovery, by M. de Montaiglin, of the rela- 
 tions between his wife and the stranger he has adopted. 
 Under such conditions a mother could not be expected 
 to guard long her secret. It is, accordingly, revealed. 
 Accepting a life of subsequent fidelity and devotion as 
 proof sufficient of penitence, M. de Montaiglin forgives 
 ungrudgingly and unquestioningly his wife, and secures 
 her happiness by formally claiming the child as his 
 own. 
 
 Whatever value is possessed by the play lies in the 
 moral rather than the treatment. This is the exact point 
 the adapter has assailed. Representing the offence of 
 Raymonde as taking place before her acquaintance with 
 M. de Montaiglin, and attributing it to a sham marriage, 
 he takes from the heroine all culpability and from the hero 
 all opportunity of sacrifice. The foundation of the play 
 thus removed, the edifice crumbles with a breath. What 
 is presented to the spectator is a series of people telling 
 an overwhelming number of lies for the purpose of con- 
 cealing what needs no concealment. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 55 
 
 Some signs of the worth of a play which has been 
 regarded as the chef-d'oeuvre of its author survive this 
 murderous treatment. Nothing can impair the effect of 
 the really dramatic scene in which the wife's rhapsody 
 over the child forces upon her husband the conviction 
 that it is her own. The comic scenes, moreover, retain 
 their mirthfulness, and have, indeed, a drollery the author 
 was far from intending to communicate. Thanks to the 
 pronounced style into which, sooner or later, most English 
 comedians are forced, the scenes of love-making between 
 Octave and Madame Guichard degenerate into broad 
 farce. Against this style of interpretation it is useless to 
 protest. With an amount of ignorance and stupidity that 
 would seem incredible, were not fresh proof of its existence 
 constantly supplied, audiences remain insensible to fine 
 acting, and burst into applause the moment they perceive 
 extravagance. The serious portions of the play were 
 fairly presented. Mdlle. Beatrice acted in her grave and 
 not unimpressive style. Mr. Frank Harvey made the 
 most of the disagreeable character of Octave, and Mr. 
 Carter-Edwards gave an impersonation of M. deMontaiglin 
 that would have been praiseworthy were it not for a very 
 pedantic and affected pronunciation of the words. But 
 for the faults on which w r e have insisted the piece and 
 performance might pass muster. It is scarcely fair, 
 however, to a writer of the reputation of M. Dumas to 
 advance as his this invertebrate composition. Fortunately, 
 perhaps, for the reputation of English art, Frenchmen, as 
 a rule, know little of our language. Were matters other- 
 wise, and were French dramatists aware of the manner in 
 which their works are set before an English public, they 
 would probably, instead of discussing the bases of an 
 international copyright, seek for a total prohibition of the 
 right of adaptation. 
 
56 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 u, 1875. So prosaic and commonplace are the ordinary conditions 
 of existence in this country, that the constantly renewed 
 effort of Mr. Boucicault to dignify Irish rebellion is 
 probably as sensible a plan as is left to the dramatist who 
 seeks to extract romantic interest from our contemporary 
 politics. To the barrenness of the subject may, then, be 
 ascribed the monotony of the dramas Mr. Boucicault has 
 produced during recent years. No single deed of con- 
 spicuous heroism has come to light during successive 
 stages of Irish revolt. By the dramatist w r ho seeks to 
 adhere to the facts of Irish rebellion there is but one pic- 
 ture to be presented. An Irish leader may be exhibited 
 evading the pursuit of the police, hiding in caverns and 
 among rocks, and seeking a means of escape by sea. His 
 sole danger will be from traitors among his supposed ad- 
 herents, and the most stirring incident to be expected will 
 consist of the slaughter of some individual w 7 ho is discovered 
 to be a spy. Take a theme such as this, throw in a few speci- 
 mens of Irish humour, and exhibit a few phases of Irish life, 
 and a romantic drama is obtained. Such a piece Mr. Bouci- 
 cault has given to the stage half-a-dozen times, and such 
 he again produces in "The Shaughraun". Once only, 
 out of the materials at his disposal, did he create a 
 work of sustained interest. In " Arrah-na-Pogue " a 
 pretty story of affection was interwoven with the intrigue 
 of rebellion ; thoroughly idyllic scenes of love-making were 
 successfully introduced, and the whole production soared 
 into the regions of art. Contented with this success, Mr. 
 Boucicault has relaxed his efforts, and " The Shaughraun " 
 is simply " Arrah-na-Pogue " turned inside out. Robert 
 Ffolliott is Beamish M'Coul, Harvey Duff, the traitor, is 
 Michael Feeny, Moya Dolan is an undeveloped Arrah 
 Meelish, and Conn O'Kelly is Shaun the Post minus his 
 official dignity. To the minor characters the similarity 
 extends, and the jokes, the pictures exhibited, the scene of 
 the action, and the character of the incidents, all share in 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 57 
 
 the resemblance. The one omission that has been made 
 during the process of conversion is detrimental to the 
 value. The love interest, if not entirely excised, is reduced 
 to a minimum. In the development of the play, love 
 passages are wholly subsidiary. This fact appears to have 
 struck Mr. Boucicault, who at the last moment has 
 arranged an abduction of two girls, which shall give an 
 appearance of sentiment to the closing scenes. This effort 
 is naturally a failure. After hunting on one track, and 
 running to earth the prey, we resist the attempt to lure us 
 on to another scent. Before the concluding scene is 
 reached the plot is over, the hero has been pardoned, and 
 has heard of the amnesty that has been pronounced, and 
 all concern for him is at an end. No purpose is served by 
 the abduction of Moya and ArteO'Neale, Mr. Boucicault's 
 two heroines, and the spectator refuses to believe in the 
 reality of their danger. What interest there is in the play 
 centres in Conn, the Shaughraun, whatever that word ma)' 
 mean. A reckless scamp and vagabond, having no means 
 of livelihood but fiddling at wake or fair, Conn compounds 
 for all shortcomings by the possession of 
 
 That household virtue, most uncommon, 
 Of constancy. 
 
 As is often the case, no special merit can be found in 
 the object of worship. Robert Ffolliott is a commonplace 
 young gentleman, whose luck must have been especially 
 bad to attract to him such an amount of attention from 
 Government as shall secure him transportation. Trans- 
 ported, however, in defiance of law and custom, he is. 
 To Australia Conn follows him, and as no gaols ever 
 invented are able to keep the Shaughraun in or out an 
 escape is arranged, and successfully conducted. To Ire- 
 land Ffolliott returns. As his arrival is at the opportune 
 moment in which an amnesty is published, no especial 
 risk would seem to be run. Two individuals have, 
 
58 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 however, an interest in his ruin : Harvey Duff, a police 
 spy, to whom his previous misfortunes are due, and Corry 
 Kinchela, a false steward, who during his master's absence 
 has taken possession of his estates. By the wiles of these 
 men, Ffolliott is again embroiled with the police. He 
 runs, accordingly, some wholly unnecessary dangers. 
 After an opportunity has been offered for the presenta- 
 tion of scenes of Milesian revelry, including that most 
 stimulating of all indulgences, a w r ake, the returned rebel 
 is saved, chiefly through the heroism of his humble fol- 
 lower. Of his two enemies, one is shot by Conn, while 
 the police spy jumps from a cliff to avoid the fury of a 
 mob by which he is tracked. 
 
 Exactly to regulation is, accordingly, the drama. Its 
 dialogue introduces Mr. Boucicault's best stage sentiment, 
 so good that for most purposes it is better than real. 
 Only now and then, w r here there has been carelessness, is 
 the fact that it is gilding, and not gold, to be detected. In 
 one case, when Ffolliott supposes Conn to be dead, he 
 observes, " I should not like anything to befall Conn, for 
 my own sake," a sufficiently temperate expression con- 
 cerning one who had gone to the antipodes to deliver him 
 from imprisonment. Blame can scarcely be imputed to 
 Mr. Boucicault that the end, with its arrangement for a 
 triple wedding, made in a den of smugglers, turns the 
 whole into farce. An English public, it appears, will not 
 be contented with the prospect of a wedding unless the 
 preliminaries are settled in its presence. The introduc- 
 tion, by sheer force, of the wake of Conn is, however, a 
 deliberate sacrifice of possibility to stage effect. On the 
 whole, the garment Mr. Boucicault has turned is good 
 enough for ordinary wear. It \vill serve its purpose, 
 of filling Drury Lane Theatre and the pockets of author 
 and manager. Against such a result little can be said, 
 since the violation of art is not greater than in productions 
 which are less successful. Much of the scenery is pic- 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 59 
 
 turesque. A scene of a revolving tower, which shows, 
 from the inside first, and then from the outside, the escape 
 of the hero, is more ingenious than commendable. The 
 acting in two or three characters is admirable. Mr. 
 Boucicault is probably the best stage Irishman that has 
 been seen. It is impossible to make drollery more 
 unctuous, and blarney more attractive, than they appear 
 in his rendering. To the vitality he imparts to the charac- 
 ter of Conn the success of the piece is largely attributable. 
 Mrs. Boucicault, as Moya, also acts admirably, and Mr. 
 Shiel Barry, as the Police Spy, gives a remarkable exhibi- 
 tion of fear almost tragic in its excess. A picture of abject 
 degradation more true to life and more remarkable has 
 seldom been seen. His leaps and bounds from one closed 
 avenue of escape to another are absolutely startling in 
 their grotesque terror. The " Shaughraun " was first 
 produced at Wallack's Theatre, New York, on the I4th 
 of November in last year. 
 
 ROCHEFOUCAULD, the most epigrammatic of French Sept. 18, 1875. 
 moralists, has said, " Les vieillards aiment a donner de 
 bons pre'ceptes, pour se consoler de n'etre plus en etat de 
 donner de mauvais exemples," and Vauvenargues, one of 
 the most thoughtful of the same fraternity, has declared 
 that " Les conseils de la vieillesse eclairent sans echauffer, 
 comme le soleil d'hiver". Modern French writers, with 
 M. Dumas fils at their head, have changed the direction 
 of the satire, and have commenced to depict youth as 
 severe and occupied with worldly interests, and age as 
 volatile and addicted to frivolous pleasures. This idea, 
 first presented with frank gaiety to the world in the 
 "Monsieur Jules" of MM. Lurine and Deslandes, a 
 whimsicality produced at the Varietes, and a few days 
 later more elaborately developed in " Un Pere Prodigue," 
 
60 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 by M. Alexandra Dumas, has found its way on to the 
 English stage in the " My Awful Dad " of Mr. Charles 
 Mathews. From the famous comedy of M. Dumas Mr. 
 Mathews has taken little except suggestions, the incidents 
 he presents approaching more nearly those of " Monsieur 
 Jules ". No attempt is there to enforce the moral for 
 which M. Dumas strenuously labours ; no effort to do 
 more than place in a ludicrous light the tribulations 
 which a disreputable father brings upon the head of a 
 cold-blooded and puritanical son. Coarse as is the work- 
 manship and unpleasant as is the company to which the 
 audience is introduced, the adaptation has some power 
 to interest and amuse. Its situations, from a farcical 
 standpoint, are ingenious, and the whole, with a large 
 amount of indulgence, which, happily for the trans- 
 lator, the audience is disposed to accord, may be found 
 diverting. 
 
 Adonis Evergreen lives in the chambers of his son 
 Richard, a hardworking and formal barrister. His store 
 of wild oats is inexhaustible, and at an age when most 
 men are contemplating the garnered harvest of their follies, 
 he is still engaged in sowing a new crop. Every variety 
 of suffering is brought upon Richard, whose character is 
 gravely compromised by his father's frivolities. In the 
 end, after a not too edifying tableau of modern manners 
 has been exhibited, the son finds a good character is less 
 valuable than he thought. His father is able to cany off 
 a young and rich widow, who loves him for his extrava- 
 gancies rather than in spite of them, and from the reflected 
 lustre of paternal excesses he is himself able to gain the 
 hand of a maiden who has hitherto regarded him as spirit- 
 less. Without wishing to open any question of morality 
 such as the production of " Un Pere Prodigue " begot in 
 Paris, we may ask whether a lesson of this kind is wholly 
 satisfactory. It is, to say the least, a rather dangerous 
 example to youth to point out that the cultivation of the 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 6 1 
 
 society of loose women is the best recommendation to the 
 good graces of women of virtue. This, however, is the 
 plain English of the teaching. Mr. Mathews will probably 
 answer that the whole is farce. This is the true defence. 
 The action passes in a world which is purely imaginary. 
 All very w r ell is it to speak of existing regions and to 
 present characters as living in well-known localities. A 
 world in which barristers receive lady clients, elderly 
 gentlemen dress themselves up as Punch in order to go to 
 masked balls, and sons make formal demands of marriage 
 on behalf of their fathers, is, for English spectators at 
 least, a domain of farce, and the actions of its denizens 
 are not to be tried by any standard of sanity. It is not 
 likely, indeed, that the follies of Adonis Evergreen will 
 move much admiration or much inclination to copy 
 them among the more staid of his admirers, and youth 
 is not likely to find reproaches levelled against its over 
 wisdom much more worthy of attention than the more 
 commonplace censure to which it is in the habit of 
 listening. 
 
 There is not much difficulty in playing a part of this 
 description, and Mr. Mathews renders the character of 
 the aged libertine with his well-known airiness of style. 
 The highest praise and the strongest condemnation of the 
 performance are, however, involved in the impression it 
 generally conveyed. It is undoubtedly a remarkable feat 
 for an actor of Mr. Mathews's age to perform. Art is, 
 however, cruel as nature, and the moment a performance 
 is remarkable rather than attractive her concern with it is 
 over. 
 
 Golden lads and girls all must 
 
 As chimney-sweepers come to dust, 
 
 says Shakspeare. This is true of art as of nature, and 
 when a performance reminds one only of past triumphs, 
 art, whether the actor is called Mathews or Lemaitre or 
 
62 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Dejazet. erects a tombstone over the living man 
 can only say piously with Wordsworth : 
 
 Let no rude hand deface it, 
 And its forlorn hie jacet. 
 
 Sept. 25, 1875. A NEW burlesque produced at the Strand Theatre is only 
 interesting or worthy of comment for the illustration it 
 affords of English methods of workmanship. " Gavaut, 
 Minard et C ie " is a whimsical French piece of M. Gondinet, 
 the idea of which is farcical, while its incidents are 
 extravagant and impossible. The whole is, however, kept 
 by the treatment within the limits of broad comedy. 
 In this piece English ingenuity has seen a subject for 
 burlesque. The two bourgeois, accordingly, whose doubts 
 concerning the possible result of early indiscretions furnish 
 the basis of the plot, are turned into two characters be- 
 longing to the impossible world of burlesque. One is 
 dressed as a species of bird, his frills, the cut of his coat, 
 and the general make up of his garments giving him some 
 resemblance to a large rook, while the second is padded 
 to an appearance of preposterous size. The action mean- 
 while proceeds as in the French piece, receiving what 
 added comicality can be conveyed by the absurd gestures 
 and ridiculous speech of the actors thus travestied. To 
 other characters this method of treatment is extended. 
 Three girls, the daughters of Gavaut, now re-christened 
 Rumbo the Renowned, are dressed in short petticoats and 
 silk tights and the ordinary appurtenances of actresses in 
 burlesque, and a waiting-maid is supplied with a head- 
 dress representing a coffee-pot, and a gown figured all over 
 with emblems of domestic service. A clever and enter- 
 taining comedy is thus converted into a farce of the lowest 
 and most degraded kind. Meanwhile the actions of the 
 characters are consistent with the dress, and are wholly 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 63 
 
 meaningless and trivial. A lady, whose only characteris- 
 tic is a strong taste for the romantic, joins in the break- 
 down with which an act concludes, and is supplied with a 
 sweeping-brush, the possession of which is supposed to 
 invest her with some species of humour. Inconceivably 
 trivial and childish is the entire exhibition. So much to 
 the taste of the public is it, however, that it was received 
 at the first performance with positive rapture of applause. 
 No single voice was raised in defence of common-sense or 
 in resentment of the outrage upon stage art. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 \ 
 
 Lyceum: "Macbeth". Mirror: "Self" a drama in four 
 acts, by John Oxenford and Horace Wigan. Hay- 
 market : " Married in Haste" a comedy in four acts, by 
 H. J. Byron. Prince of W ales' s : Revival of "Masks 
 and Faces," by Charles Reade and Tom Taylor. 
 Gaiety : " Henry VIII." played in three acts. 
 Olympic: "Buckingham" a drama in four acts, by 
 W. G. Wills. Court: "Broken Hearts," a fairy 
 comedy in three acts, by W. S. Gilbert. 
 
 Oct. 2, 1875. THE revival of " Macbeth " at the Lyceum Theatre is 
 interesting in many respects. Never, since the Restora- 
 tion, has the tragedy been presented with more regard to 
 the intention of the author, and never have more exact 
 study and more cultivated taste been applied to its ade- 
 quate illustration. In place of the curious mosaic to which 
 the stage is used, we have the words of Shakspeare ; the 
 music which Lock or some one else wrote for Davenant's 
 verses is thrust into its proper place, in the entr'actes ; and 
 readings which are authoritative are given in place of those 
 which are popular or effective. A vindication of this 
 method of treatment, the only treatment defensible in the 
 case of Shakspeare, could scarcely be desired more com- 
 plete than was in the present instance afforded. Not only 
 was no sense of loss begotten by the absence of the familiar 
 appanages, but the scenes, now first divested of extraneous 
 matter, produced for the first time their full effect. From 
 the moment when, in the opening scene, the witches were 
 
 (64) 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 65 
 
 revealed by flashes of lightning to that wherein they exe- 
 cuted, in their final appearance, that "antic round" to 
 cheer the " sprites " of Macbeth which all editions concur 
 in giving, the scenes remained impressive. A less liberal 
 employment of fireworks in the brewing of the magic 
 " gruel " is the only improvement that can be suggested. 
 The scenery illustrated the action without overpowering 
 it, and the costumes, from the highest to the lowest, were 
 at once artistic and full of character. One or two innova- 
 tions in the text, that are ventured upon, are defensible 
 enough. The most important is, we believe, American in 
 origin. In the case of the opening lines of the well-known 
 soliloquy of Macbeth, Mr. Irving placed a period at the 
 end of the first line, and removed the colon after the word 
 "quickly "in the second. The lines run, accordingly, 
 thus : 
 
 If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well. 
 It were done quickly if the assassination 
 Could trammel up the consequence, and catch 
 With his surcease success. 
 
 This reading, against which nothing can be advanced ex- 
 cept that it is scarcely required, was warmly urged by the 
 anonymous author of an able essay on this soliloquy of 
 Macbeth, which saw the light in the Boston Courier. It is, 
 however, we are told, not unfamiliar on the English stage. 
 In the same soliloquy occurs the one noteworthy instance 
 in which the text of recognised editions is forsaken. After 
 the words, 
 
 I have no spur 
 
 To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
 Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself 
 And falls on the other, 
 
 Mr. Irving pardonably introduces, according to the sug- 
 gestion of Hanmer, the word " side ". This addition has 
 at least the merit of rendering the image intelligible to the 
 
 5 
 
66 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 general public without departing very widely from any 
 possible intention of the author. The substitution of the 
 word "would" for "should " in the line spoken by Mac- 
 beth on hearing of the death of his wife, 
 
 She should have died hereafter, 
 
 we assume to be due to a trip of the tongue. 
 
 In the case of the general interpretation there is less to 
 admire. Single figures stand forth with some distinctness, 
 and more than one presentation has character as well as 
 clearness of outline. The central figure is not, however, Mac- 
 beth, at least not the Macbeth to which we are accustomed. 
 Criticism, \vith its usual acumen, has succeeded in fram- 
 ing various and contradictory theories as to the character 
 of Macbeth. Enough, however, remains evident, in spite 
 of literary pother, to declare that Shakspeare, in Macbeth, 
 intended to depict villainy splendid and martial, not 
 cowardly and abject. How far Shakspeare was acquainted 
 with existing models of tragedy it is, of course, impossible 
 to say. It is difficult to believe him remaining, during a 
 lifetime devoted to the drama, ignorant of the supreme 
 development his art had received. This much, at least, is 
 certain, " the most sublime and impressive drama which 
 the world has ever beheld," as Hallam describes " Mac- 
 beth," approaches most closely of all the works of its 
 epoch the spirit of Greek tragedy. From the moment 
 when Macbeth meets the w r itches and listens to their evil 
 augurings he passes under the hand of fate. Such ques- 
 tioning as to the limits of fate and free-will may, of course, 
 be once more evoked, as Milton has denounced, as 
 
 Vain wisdom all and false philosophy. 
 
 Not forthwith does Macbeth act upon the words of the 
 weird sisters. As a guarantee of their truth comes the 
 first promised addition to his honours. He is greeted as 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 67 
 
 Thane of Cawdor. As though to tempt him to further 
 steps, Duncan places himself in his power. Here, when 
 his moral nature, disturbed as yet, and not defiled, would 
 probably shrink, his wife comes forward and takes on her- 
 self the deed. After yielding to her counsels, and purchas- 
 ing, at the cost of all joy, the promised distinction, Macbeth 
 treads out alone the remainder of his career. She is by 
 him to cheer him and to save him from the result of his 
 indiscretions, but she no longer supplies the inducement 
 to crime, and is not even made directly acquainted with 
 his purposes. Sooner than he, she finds the weariness of 
 their lot, and she dies of heart-break, while he is still fight- 
 ing as a man. From the moment when Duncan's assas- 
 sination is accomplished, the spirit of murder reigns in the 
 heart of Macbeth" Guilt is his grim chamberlain ". 
 Powerless to resist the swelling influences, he abandons 
 himself wearily to the inevitable, declaring 
 
 I am in blood 
 
 Stepp'd in so far that should I wade no more, 
 Returning were as tedious as go o'er. 
 
 "So subjugated is he, that he finds in his very regrets an 
 .argument for the commission of further crimes. His 
 pathetic speech, " Duncan is in his grave," is delivered 
 while he is comforting himself with the thought of the pre- 
 arranged murder of Banquo, and the ghost of Banquo has 
 barely disappeared before he has shaped in his mind the 
 death of Macduff. Dismissing all thought of the ethical 
 lesson enforced, we see in the play a marvellous study of 
 the growth and development of evil, and watch in the man 
 the poor fight which moral restraints and " compunctuous 
 visitings " can make against the dominancy of evil. When 
 support is wanting, Macbeth finds it by having fresh re- 
 course to the witches, whose fateful presence or influence 
 directs his every movement and dominates the entire 
 .action. Neither this nor any accepted view of the charac- 
 
68 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 ter of Macbeth does Mr. Irving present. In its place, he 
 shows us an abject and unheroical being, in whom we find 
 no trace of the soldier. His mourning and complaining 
 are less than manly, and his mental struggles are those of 
 a commonplace nature. There is no warrant in the text 
 for the excess of cowardice Mr. Irving displays. Macbeth's 
 language in presence of the ghost of Banquo exhibits 
 as much anger as fear. It is throughout that of a 
 soldier ashamed of the tremors which he cannot com- 
 mand. In the very whirlwind of his fear he couples 
 with \vords of defiance his protests against the un- 
 expected species of torture to which he is exposed. To 
 abandon this view is to lose sight of the character. Quite 
 useless is it to show the instances in which Mr. Irving 
 over-accentuates the cowardice of Macbeth. From the 
 moment when he commences the soliloquy to which 
 previous reference has been made (act i. sc. 7), pressing 
 his hands to his head, after a manner indicative of mental 
 perplexity, to that when he abandons all hope and fights 
 recklessly for life, his sole remaining stake, there is not a 
 point at which the character is adequately masculine. 
 Certain passages were effective, notably the exit speech,, 
 " Wake Duncan with thy knocking," etc. Not, however, 
 until the scenes of fighting was any durable effect produced 
 upon the audience. In the last act Mr. Irving presented 
 striking pictures, and the reckless bravery with which he 
 fought against the united powers of earth and hell was 
 impressive. His concluding fight with Macduff was 
 absolute desperation. 
 
 In Mr. Irving's conception there is intention, but it 
 is wrong ; and there are individual merits which will 
 not compound for systematic error. This objection 
 might, however, be vanquished in another part might 
 even be removed by further study and practice. Miv 
 Irving must learn, however, that his mannerisms have 
 developed into evils so formidable they will, if not checked,. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 69 
 
 end by impeding his career. His slow pronunciation and 
 his indescribable elongation of syllables bring the whole 
 occasionally near burlesque. Mr. Irving has youth, 
 intelligence, ambition, zeal, and resolution. These things 
 are sacrificed to vices of style, which have strengthened 
 with the actor's success, and, like all weeds of ill 
 growth, have obtained excessive development. It is 
 impossible to preserve the music of Shakspeare if words 
 of one syllable are to be stretched out to the length of 
 rive or six. Mr. Irving's future depends greatly on his 
 mastery of this defect. 
 
 Miss Bateman's Lady Macbeth, although monotonous, 
 was powerful. Due prominence was given to the weari- 
 ness of defeat, which in her case follows closely on the 
 murder. Other roles were rendered with tolerable spirit, 
 though no character calls for especial comment. 
 
 In a representation so intelligent as that of " Macbeth " 
 it is regrettable to see one error maintained. When Mac- 
 beth is questioned by Macduff and others why he killed 
 the sleeping grooms, the demand should be made simply 
 and without the violent menace now accompanying it, 
 upon w r hich none, under such circumstances, would have 
 ventured. " Wherefore did you so ? " asks Macduff, with 
 some interest, but without the thought of a menace, for 
 which the season was most inopportune. The following 
 speech of Macbeth shows clearly that no such anger as is 
 evinced in the representation had been perceived by him. 
 
 How servile is the dependence of the English stage 
 upon the foreign drama is shown in the fact that when 
 French successes are not to be obtained our managers 
 fall back upon failures in preference to seeking a source of 
 home supply. " Les Diables Noirs," of M. Sardou, the 
 most universally condemned of modern dramatic produc- 
 
70 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 tions, a piece concerning which the " censure," the critics r 
 and the public were of a mind, and for which all the 
 genius of Berton and Madame Fargueil could not win 
 acceptance, has thus been twice set before an English 
 public. Each time the result has been failure. " Passion,"" 
 a version by Mr. Roberts, played by Mdlle. Beatrice in 
 this country, was speedily withdrawn, and " Self," by 
 Messrs. Oxenford and Horace Wigan, produced on Mon- 
 day at the Mirror, was received with derision. A more 
 hopeless piece has, indeed, seldom taxed the ingenuity of 
 the adaptor. A lachrymose and w r ildly improbable love 
 story, with a tragic termination, is blended with some 
 scenes of extravagant farce. The whole composition 
 resembles thus nothing so much as an attempt to bur- 
 lesque the worst eccentricities of the romantic school of 
 drama. A man without one spark of honour or nobility, 
 like the infamous hero of the scarce-mentionable novel of 
 Choderlos de Laclos, seeks the love of the purest women 
 for the mere purpose of exposing, betraying, and insulting 
 them. After passing through various stages of degrada- 
 tion, down to the commission of absolute theft, he is. 
 locked in her chamber by his wife, who loves him, and 
 who, having closed all means of exit, has set fire to the 
 house. From this peril he is delivered only to die of some 
 strange species of remorse wrought in him by the death of 
 his wife. Our readers may perhaps view w r ith amusement 
 a few criticisms provoked by this piece in the year (1863) 
 of its production : " Jamais drame plus dangereux n'a 
 effronte le public. II a tout contre lui, la convenance, 
 la vraisemblance, une intrigue chimerique, des caracteres- 
 outres, des passions qui tiennent du delire. Son principal 
 personnage est antipathique de la tete aux pieds : il fait 
 un metier plus honteux que la honte." So speaks one 
 authority. A second declares : " Je ne crois pas qu'on 
 ait jamais pousse plus loin que dans ces quatre actes 
 1'horreur de 1'ideal et le gout de 1'odieux, le mepris de Tart 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. Jl 
 
 et 1'amour du mecanisme, le dedain du public, et la con- 
 fiance en soi-meme ". A third declares it " Indigne d'etre 
 montre au public," and a fourth pronounces it " Tour a 
 tour ennuyeux, infernal et lugubre ". Miss Rose Coghlan 
 played with force, and was supported with more or less 
 energy by Miss Caroline Hill, Mr. Clayton, and Mr. 
 Wigan. The principal character, however, was allotted 
 to Mr. Allerton, an actor who succeeded speedily in 
 moving the derision of the audience, the result being 
 disaster, scarcely short of collapse. 
 
 MR. BYRON'S comedies are like fruit trees growing on Oct. 9, 1875. 
 espaliers. The slightest possible amount of fabric serves 
 to support the utmost obtainable quantity of product. Not 
 very valuable is perhaps the crop, concerning which 1 Mr. 
 Bryon is anxious ; its abundance is, however, beyond 
 question. A thick foliage of speech hides the branches 
 and their frail support, and red-cheeked apples of wit 
 gleam through the leafy screen. Dismissing an illustra- 
 tion which is capable of being carried further, we may say 
 of Mr. Byron's latest production that, while it displays 
 every fault and weakness to which its author is prone, 
 it is in advance of some work he has recently produced. 
 When first heard, indeed, it leaves the impression of being 
 a clever and almost a good play. Reflection is required 
 before we perceive that the story is artificial and impro- 
 bable as well as flimsy, that the dialogue when most 
 amusing, is forced, and that the characters, though 
 sketched with intention, are incomplete and inconsistent. 
 
 Plot is a matter with which Mr. Byron rarely concerns 
 himself. What he has supplied in " Married in Haste " has 
 at least the merit of shapeliness. If it is urged against it 
 that a single word might at any moment upset it, the same 
 may be said concerning the most ingenious comedies of 
 
72 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Scribe and M. Sardou, and might, indeed, be advanced 
 against " Othello ". 
 
 A young man, depending wholly upon an allowance from 
 his uncle, marries without consulting that relative, and 
 rinds himself shortly afterwards reduced to penury. Hav- 
 ing a slight knowledge of art, he tries vainly to earn as a 
 painter a. livelihood for himself and his w r ife. Poverty 
 exercises a baneful influence upon his character. He 
 becomes neglectful of his wife, and succeeds in arousing 
 her jealousy to such an extent that she quits his roof and 
 returns to her father. A general reconciliation is reserved 
 for a last act. 
 
 Within the lines of so familiar and commonplace a plot 
 a good deal of originality is included. The padding is, 
 indeed, more important than the figure. A scene, in which 
 the husband learns of his wife's flight from overhearing a 
 letter that has been written to tell him of it, and that the 
 writer, believing himself alone, reads aloud, is novel and 
 ingenious. Other scenes are telling, and the story in its 
 progress obtains a firm hold upon the audience. The dia- 
 logue, meanwhile, bristles with jokes, many of which are 
 admirably effective. It is doubtful, indeed, whether the 
 sternest critic could condemn Mr. Byron, after watching 
 the effect of his play upon the spectators. A smile of 
 amusement remains during the progress of the piece upon 
 every face, and is only discarded in favour of the broad 
 grin of extravagant hilarity produced by some joke fired 
 off in or out of season. So telling proved these verbal 
 pleasantries of Mr. Byron that a second and even a third 
 peal of laughter attested the delight of the public ; 
 while those in remote parts of the house, unable always 
 to catch the point that provoked such demonstrations, 
 grew impatient and even angry, demanding vociferously 
 not to be shut out from the feast for which they had paid. 
 
 Of these jokes many, the majority even, were forced ; 
 Avhile others came both naturally and spontaneously. To 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 73 
 
 Mr. Byron, however, the manner in which a joke is intro- 
 duced is a matter of indifference. Thus, in the piece 
 before us, one of the characters, for no purpose except to 
 introduce some sketches of sailor life, gives an account of 
 a visit to the Three Mariners, the principal public-house 
 of a fishing village. Nothing whatever had this visit to 
 do with the play, yet who that heard the description of 
 the potations of the men able to imbibe, as the speaker 
 explained, any given quantity, and their difficulties with 
 the police earning them the sobriquets of the leaky boats, 
 they had to be so constantly bailed out, could quarrel with 
 the interpolation ? 
 
 The characters introducing such familiar types as the 
 retired manufacturer and his wife, seeking vainly to be 
 received into society, were not true to themselves, and 
 changed to suit the varying action. With all these faults 
 on its head, " Married in Haste " is a clever and amusing 
 play. 
 
 It introduced some good acting. Mr. Vezin rendered 
 admirably the character of a rich old virtuoso, and, in one 
 or two earnest scenes, displayed much force and passion. 
 Miss Carlotta Addison as the heroine made a stride in her 
 profession. So concentrated and intense was the manner 
 irt which she displayed feeling without going outside 
 the bounds of social custom, a high position may be pre- 
 dicted for her as an exponent of realistic drama. Mr. 
 Byron supported easily the part of a cynical man about 
 town, whose specialty it is on all occasions to couple the 
 crabbedest spirit with the most generous actions. Mr. 
 Howe enacted the retired manufacturer. 
 
 AMONG the plays dealing with theatrical life and charac- 
 ters, of which the present century has seen abundance both 
 in France and England, the "Masks and Faces" of Messrs. 
 
74 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Tom Taylor and Charles Reade stands prominent. It 
 has an interesting and a sympathetic plot, progressive 
 action, and distinct characterisation. Its dialogue is 
 scholarly and effective, and its reproductions of past scenes 
 and characters have more truth than is customary in 
 similar efforts. At its first performance it obtained a fair 
 but not excessive amount of popularity, to which the act- 
 ing, in the principal parts, of Mrs. Stirling, Miss Reynolds, 
 Mr. B. Webster, and Mr. Leigh Murray contributed. This 
 work, in part re-shapen by the authors, has now been 
 produced at the Prince of Wales's Theatre, the manage- 
 ment of w r hich, since the death of Mr. Robertson, has cast 
 about in all directions for pieces as well suited to the 
 capacity of its company and the tastes of its patrons as 
 the realistic comedies in which its fortunes were estab- 
 lished. The alterations that have been made have refer- 
 ence principally to the time in which the action is supposed 
 to pass, and in nowise affect the motive of the plot. As 
 now arranged, the story is evolved in three scenes, each 
 extending over an entire act. 
 
 The performance now given has a respectable amount 
 of ensemble. Its chief recommendation lies, however, in 
 the merit of single characters, two or three of which are 
 excellently acted. Since her abandonment of her former 
 walk of burlesque, and her assumption of rules belonging 
 to genuine comedy, Mrs. Bancroft has never failed to cast 
 new light on a character in which she has appeared. Her 
 Peg Woffington differs from that of Mrs. Stirling in more 
 than one important respect. With Mrs. Stirling the 
 triumph of goodness, which raised the actress to the capa- 
 city for complete self-abnegation, seemed due to a rich 
 and ripe nature, and to an overflow of animal spirits. 
 With the latter exponent, it springs from a succession of 
 impulses. To accomplish the sacrifice costs more in the 
 later interpretation than in the earlier. Something in the 
 bright being Mrs. Stirling presented seemed antagonistic 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 75 
 
 to sorrow. With Mrs. Bancroft, impulses bad and good 
 follow each other in wave-like succession. Luckily, the 
 seventh is always a wave of mercy, and goodness triumphs. 
 Very noteworthy is Mrs. Bancroft's petulance. More than 
 once she seems on the point of flinging up in disgust a role 
 of good angel, which she is surprised to find thus thrust 
 upon her. Mr. Coghlan wears the dress of the past cen- 
 tury with distinction of manner, and is admirable in Sir 
 Charles Pomander. Mr. Coghlan seems of late to have 
 mistaken his vocation. Something stronger than mere 
 sentimental interest is required to force his talents into 
 play. The duty of Miss Terry as Mabel Vane scarcely 
 extends beyond wearing tastefully the artistic dresses pro- 
 vided. She goes farther, however, and, by an admirable 
 display of tenderness and trust, assigns the part an import- 
 ance it has not previously received. This innovation was 
 highly palatable to the audience, which greeted the im- 
 personation with such cheers as the role has not previously 
 elicited. Mr. Bancroft was scarcely well fitted in the role 
 of Triplet. The notion of the decayed gentleman was 
 adequately conveyed, and some of the scenes, notably that 
 in which his fingers were seen itching to pocket for his 
 starving little ones the dainties set before him at the house 
 of Vane, were new r and touching. His attitudes were 
 stiff, however, and the realisation of the character was not 
 sustained nor equal to the conception revealed everywhere 
 through it. In the remainder of the characters there was 
 nothing to call for notice, except the subordination of 
 individuals to the general weal. Mr. A. Wood failed to 
 give Colley Gibber the requisite amount of breeding, Mr. 
 Archer as Ernest Vane was heavy, and Mr. Teesdale's 
 Quin deprived the famous actor of the claims to intelli- 
 gence and breeding which Quin, in spite of his want of 
 popularity, undoubtedly possessed. Snarl and Soaper, the 
 two critics, who play into each other's hands, after the 
 fashion of Cordatus and Mitis, their two predecessors, in 
 
76 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Ben Jonson's " Every Man out of his Humour," were fairly 
 interpreted, though the snarling of Mr. Dewar might, 
 with no great difficulty, have been taken for chuckling. 
 
 Nov. 27, 1875. IN more than one respect the system of morning 
 performances at the theatre, now springing into vogue, 
 seems like a return to former traditions of the stage. The 
 hours are not far different from those at the Bankside or 
 the Globe, when the only means of lighting the auditorium 
 was through the open roof, and when the audiences con- 
 sisted of those to whom choice or necessity had given a 
 holiday. The company with which a piece is performed 
 may be indefinitely strengthened, since a manager is able 
 to recruit from the troupes of most of his rivals. It is not 
 surprising, accordingly, that these representations are 
 followed w r ith growing interest, and are rapidly rising in 
 public estimation. Such occasions seem especially suited 
 to the production of our early drama. No manager has a 
 company adequate to the performance of Shakspeare. At 
 morning entertainments, however, he may hope to present 
 any tragic or comic masterpiece with a cast which, if not 
 adequate, is, at least, as good as the resources of the 
 modern stage can afford. Morning representations may 
 thus, with care and intelligence in the direction, become 
 a substitute for that educational theatre lovers of the stage 
 are constantly seeking to obtain. 
 
 No special interest attaches to the performance of 
 " Henry VIII." at the Gaiety. The company is hastily 
 fitted' to the parts, and the entire representation is wanting, 
 not only in that rare gift of ensemble, but in the more easily 
 obtainable quality of picturesqueness. With the exception 
 of one part superbly played, and one or two others which 
 are respectably supported, the performance is unintelligent 
 and of small account. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 77 
 
 It is now no longer heresy to say that "Henry VIII." 
 from most points of view is a poor play. The theory 
 recently advanced, that Fletcher had a hand in it, is easily 
 defensible, and it would not be difficult to sustain the 
 thesis that his was the lion's share. Few who know the 
 versification of Shakspeare will admit that he could have 
 written, towards the close of his career, such lines as 
 
 What though I know her virtuous 
 And well-deserving ? yet I know her for 
 A spleeny Lutheran ; and not wholesome to 
 Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of 
 Our hard-ruled King. Again, there is sprung up 
 An heretic, an arch-one, etc. 
 
 Every speech of Queen Katharine and most speeches of 
 Wolsey show such signs of Fletcher's special style of 
 versification that it is only possible to deny that dramatist 
 a hand in the play on the supposition that Shakspeare 
 for once imitated the method of his associate. A close 
 study of Shakspeare will, we think, leave in the minds of 
 competent judges no more doubt that he is not wholly 
 responsible for " Henry VIII." than that he is partially 
 responsible for the " Two Noble Kinsmen ". 
 
 By reducing the play into three acts, and closing it 
 with the defeat of Wolsey, the Gaiety management has 
 got rid of the spectacular element, which in past times 
 has been its chief recommendation to the multitude. A 
 more important sacrifice is that of the heroine. Queen 
 Katharine, who in the original forms the central figure, 
 new shrinks into insignificance, her place bein;^ taken by 
 Wolsey. A monopoly of interest attends the " great 
 Lord Cardinal," neither the irascible outbreaks of Henry, 
 the insolence of the courtier nobles, nor the complaints of 
 Buckingham being sufficiently long to distract attention 
 from him. Never fortunate or successful in the presenta- 
 tion of passion or heroic resolve, Mr. Phelps shows himself 
 
78 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 an admirable actor the moment the internal workings of a 
 nature compounded of qualities noble and sordid have to 
 be depicted. His presentation of Wolsey is perfect. \Ye 
 see the proud and scheming statesman more than a match 
 for the turbulent nobles around him, consumed with an 
 intolerable and a restless ambition, and watch the cynical 
 courtesy with which he half covers his daring hopes and 
 designs. The manner in which the different phases of 
 character are expressed is admirable alike in breadth of 
 effect and moderation of style, and affords an absolute 
 lesson in art to those who will study it. When, in answer 
 to Surrey's brutal threat : 
 
 I'll startle you 
 
 Worse than the sacring bell when the brown wench 
 Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal, 
 
 he responds 
 
 How much, methinks, I could despise this man, 
 But that I am bound in charity against it, 
 
 Mr. Phelps' delivery of these lines was admirable in its 
 expression of superb scorn, and its combination of courtesy 
 with contempt. The whole performance is excellent, and 
 shows that the range of Mr. Phelps extends beyond those 
 comic characters by which it has been supposed to be 
 limited. None of the other characters calls for notice. 
 Mr. Clayton could not satisfactorily evolve a conception 
 he had formed of Henry. Mr. Harcourt obtained a 
 round of applause for the dying speech of Buckingham. 
 This was, however, only a piece of studied declamation. 
 It is but just to the actor to say that there is room for 
 little more. 
 
 As proofs how unintelligent is the arrangement, it is 
 sufficient to say that when the court nobles should be 
 confabulating in a corner about the expected fall of the 
 Cardinal they stand and declaim ; and that when Henry 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 79 
 
 is to be recognised by Wolsey among the maskers he 
 alone wears a mask, and the remaining members of the 
 dance are represented by women. We shall never get 
 respectable performances of Shakspeare until absurd 
 traditions regarding such points are wholly dismissed. 
 Much of the stage business is execrable. Mr. Phelps 
 even sins in this respect. Quite unpardonable is the 
 manner in which Cardinal Wolsey drives back the papal 
 legate, and takes precedence of him. 
 
 MR. WILLS'S drama of " Buckingham," produced at Dec. 4, 1875. 
 the Olympic, is a finer and more vigorous work than 
 his " Charles the First," to which it is intended as a 
 sequel. That it is less effective upon the stage is 
 ascribable in part to the fact that the pruning-knife has 
 been less sparingly applied. A more serious drawback 
 from its chance of permanent popularity is, however, 
 afforded by a representation inadequate throughout. Of 
 the half-dozen important characters supplied by the 
 dramatist, not one meets with satisfactory interpretation. 
 It is possible that a portion of the blame of failure 
 rests upon the author. An actor so painstaking and com- 
 petent as Mr. Neville is not likely entirely to misread a 
 role put into his hand. Mr. Wills has sought, however, in 
 the character of Buckingham, to reconcile qualities that 
 do not easily amalgamate. He has made him at once the 
 type of the most careless and foolhardy of Cavaliers, and 
 the model of a patriotic and high-souled gentleman. It is 
 needless to dwell upon the true character of this most dis- 
 sipated of noblemen, the lover of " wanton Shrewsbury," 
 the slayer of her husband, the head of " the Cabal/' and 
 the man at whom Pepys levels an accusation of dishonest 
 dealing at cards. Such a character is capable of rehabili- 
 tation, and the dramatist has a full right to place it in 
 
SO DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 what light he chooses. While showing Buckingham as 
 " that life of pleasure and that soul of whim," he has given 
 him a firmness of purpose and a steadfastness of effort 
 irreconcilable with such qualities. On this graver side 
 Mr. Neville has leaned, the result being that the Duke's 
 madcap actions are incomprehensible, and one of them at 
 least is dramatically unacceptable and incredible. A senti- 
 mental interest is obtained by presenting Buckingham as 
 constant in his love for the daughter of Fairfax, whom he 
 espoused. It is dearly purchased, however, when the true 
 lover and the devoted adherent, the type of cavalier 
 honour, and the framer of a tremendous indictment against 
 Cromwell, is shown throwing away his life in pure wanton- 
 ness, and in the very presence of the woman he adores. 
 If the play is to hold a permanent place upon the stage, 
 one of two things must be done the sentimental side of 
 Buckingham must be thrown into the shade ; or the second 
 act, in which he sports with all he ought to hold sacred, 
 must be modified. As acted, Buckingham is more like 
 Clancarty than the Zimri of Dryden's inimitable satire. 
 
 Of the four acts of the play, the first shows Bucking- 
 ham surprised by Cromwell in his house in Yorkshire 
 the same, it may be supposed, from which subsequently he 
 rode to his death. On the watch for a more important 
 capture, Cromwell compels the servants of the house to 
 hide from their master, who has but now reached it, that 
 his Ironsides are quartered in every unoccupied room and 
 lobby, and even behind the arras of the room in which the 
 action passes. In a cleve r ly arranged scene between him- 
 self and Mary Fairfax, Buckingham learns the truth, and 
 he succeeds, in spite of all obstacles, in giving a warning 
 to Charles the Second, who is already in sight of the 
 house. The sentence of immediate death at first pro- 
 nounced is commuted for one of exile, when Fairfax claims 
 the life of the Duke as that of his accepted son-in-law. 
 In the second act Buckingham braves all perils, and in 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 8 1 
 
 defiance of the price set upon his head, returns to London 
 travestied as a mountebank. In pure bravado he throws 
 off his disguise, and drinks in the market-place a health to 
 King Charles. In the third act, to save his life, he con- 
 sents to marry forthwith Elizabeth, the favourite daughter 
 of Cromwell. By an arrangement to which Elizabeth, in 
 spite of her love for him, or perhaps even moved by it, 
 since no other means will keep his head from the scaffold, 
 consents, the place of the bride is taken by Mary Fair- 
 fax. Foiled once more, Cromwell determines on a slower 
 revenge than that he previously meditated. Seeing his 
 daughter after her self-sacrifice swooning, and knowing 
 how deeply her affections must be injured, he pronounces 
 the doom : 
 
 So may God do to me if I requite not 
 
 This business in full measure to thy bosom. 
 
 This is thy sentence : while she pines and withers, 
 
 Thou, too, shalt pine and rot in deepest dungeon ; 
 
 Those golden locks shall grizzle ; that straight back 
 
 Shall bend with care ; be it for months or years, 
 
 As she shall droop so shalt thou droop and wither ! 
 
 If she should die that day she dies for love 
 
 Thou diest for treason ! (To guards) Seize him to the Tower ! 
 
 Buckingham's answer is a burst of impassioned eloquence, 
 which connects the play with its predecessor : 
 
 I do not plead with thee against this sentence ; 
 But, tyrant, trust me, thou shalt share it too 
 I do condemn thee also to a dungeon 
 Tremble by day thy palace is a dungeon 
 Whose gaoler, Fear, shall keep the golden key, 
 And people every shadow with assassins ! 
 Tremble by night thy chamber is a dungeon ; 
 The winds shall hiss at thee their shrill indictment ; 
 The rain shall seem to thee a nation's tears ; 
 The household fire, which cheers the innocent, 
 
 6 
 
82 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Shall take the semblance of red autographs, 
 
 Signing the hideous death-warrant again ! 
 
 Thy murdered master's melancholy eye 
 
 Shall open on thy dreams with mute reproach ; 
 
 Bitter remorse shall ravin on thy heart, 
 
 And mocking fiends say amen to thy prayers ! 
 
 Waste thou and pine until we meet again. 
 
 To this sufficiently masculine and vigorous curse, Crom- 
 well answers impetuously : 
 
 Gag him, or strike him dead away with him ! 
 
 In the last act Elizabeth Cromwell is dead, and Crom- 
 well, moved by her dying intercession, delays to sign the 
 death-warrant. He does so at last, but expires before it 
 is carried into effect. The pardon of Richard Cromwell 
 has already been secured, and Buckingham is restored to 
 freedom and honours. 
 
 Whatever opinion may be held concerning the liberties 
 taken with history, a powerful if unequal play has un- 
 doubtedly been produced. Neither Buckingham nor 
 Cromwell was sympathetic to the house, and as the 
 two heroines were weakly sustained, scenes that had in- 
 trinsic strength failed in their effect. A play thus which 
 has capacity to stir an audience obtained that unsatisfac- 
 tory award, a succes d'estime. The force of some scenes 
 triumphed over all difficulties, and at more than one point 
 warm outbursts were provoked. The intervals between 
 these seemed long, however, and the gathered heat was 
 allowed to disperse. A more competent interpretation, 
 especially of the female characters, would have done some- 
 thing to obviate this result. If the play fail to make its 
 mark, it will afford proof how good dramatic workmanship 
 may miscarry, and how strange combination of gifts and 
 chances go to a dramatic triumph. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 83 
 
 THAT Mr. Gilbert should have found fairy stories a Dec. 18, 1875. 
 convenient vehicle for satire is easily conceived. One of 
 the simplest and most customary means of ridiculing 
 human institutions is to test their effect upon unsophis- 
 ticated natures. Fairy machinery lends itself readily to 
 such a purpose. In a world in which nothing can be pro- 
 nounced impossible or illogical, since the law of sequence 
 is abrogated, the wildest experiments are permissible. 
 In his fairy dramas, accordingly, Mr. Gilbert has done 
 elaborately what, with machinery much less complicated, 
 was accomplished by Voltaire in more than one of his tales, 
 and notably in his " L'Ingenu ". Galatea who from a 
 statue is converted into a woman, and who, in a candid 
 and ingenuous search after truth, finds nothing around her 
 but deceit, insincerity, and sham is a feminine counter- 
 part to the Huron of Voltaire. Gradually, however, in his 
 employment of these means, Mr. Gilbert has laid upon 
 them a heavier duty. At first the satirical purpose was 
 sufficient. The comic complications of " The Wicked 
 World " sought only to provoke laughter. In " Pygmalion 
 and Galatea" the author blended sadness with mirth, and, 
 by a humanising touch, presented his heroine as sickened 
 with the follies and frivolities around her, and seeking 
 again the repose of marble, from which she had been 
 roused. From this position to that he now assumes is a 
 short and easy step. After presenting a being weary of 
 the torments of love, and invoking oblivion, it is natural 
 to depict one to whom the torments themselves shall 
 prove fatal. In three pieces, however, Mr. Gilbert has 
 presented himself in as many different lights. In "The 
 Wicked World " he is a satirist, in " Pygmalion and Gala- 
 tea " he is a humorist, and in " Broken Hearts," given at 
 the Court Theatre, he is a poet. The three plays together 
 form the most important contribution to fairy literature that 
 has been supplied by any dramatist, or, indeed, any writer, 
 since the commencement of the seventeenth century. 
 
84 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Allusions to fairies in the two shapes in which they are 
 most commonly presented, as beings akin to the nymphs of 
 classic legends and the fate of Italian romance, or as the 
 
 demi-puppets that 
 
 By moonshine do the green-sour ringlets make, 
 Whereof the ewe not bites 
 
 are common in early literature, and such are contained 
 in more than one of our early plays. It was reserved, 
 however, for the time of Queen Elizabeth and her Stuart 
 successors to see an epic poem, half-a-dozen plays, and 
 lyrics innumerable written in their honour. A curious 
 and interesting branch of study is offered by the part the 
 elves play in literature. In the poems of Jonson, Browne, 
 Herrick, Mennis, the Duchess of Newcastle, and Drayton 
 we see diminutive creatures whose interference in human 
 affairs is capricious, often benevolent, and at worst mis- 
 chievous. In Spenser's great poem, and in the allusions 
 to fairy damsels in " Paradise Regained," these beings are 
 the nymphs of romance. Shakspeare, in the " Midsummer 
 Night's Dream," presents the fairies as diminutive, but 
 makes Titania fall in love with Bottom, which she could 
 scarcely have done had she been like Queen Mab, a rival 
 potentate, 
 
 In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 
 On the forefinger of an alderman. 
 
 A possible supposition, if such matters are to be dis- 
 cussed, is that fairies were capable of changing their size, 
 an idea that seems suggested by Shakspeare himself. 
 In ''The Goblins" of Sir John Suckling, and in the 
 " Amyntas " of Thomas Randolph, as in "The Merry 
 Wives of Windsor," the supposed fairies are only human 
 beings masquerading. Fairy influences prevail in many 
 plays of the Elizabethan epoch, as in " The Tempest," 
 " The Faithful Shepherdess " of Beaumont and Fletcher, 
 and, in a slight degree, in " The Sad Shepherd " of Ben 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 85 
 
 Jonson. " Oberon's Triumph," by Ben Jonson, blends 
 curiously Gothic and classical mythologies. In dealing 
 with a subject on which little is known, and to which it is 
 scarcely probable we shall revert, it is worth while to refer 
 to one or two subsequent works belonging to this category. 
 Of more recent plays of this class, " Edgar and Emme- 
 line," attributed to Dr. Hawkesworth, and produced at 
 Drury Lane, is the most noteworthy, since it was more 
 than once revived, and on one occasion Mrs. Siddons 
 played the heroine. Its plot is agreeable, and some of 
 the fairy verses are not without music. " Fairy Favour," 
 by Thomas Hull, " The Fairy Prince," by George Colman, 
 and other pieces of the kind, are adaptations from Shak- 
 speare or Ben Jonson. A play called " The Fairy Queen " 
 was among those destroyed by Warburton's cook. Since 
 then fairies have rarely appeared, except in burlesque and 
 pantomime. Mr. Albery's " Oriana," an ingenious and 
 not too successful work, catching something of the spirit 
 of Beaumont and Fletcher, deserves mention. 
 
 Mr. Gilbert's plays are only so far concerned with the 
 fairies that his scene is Fairy Land. Thoroughly human 
 are, with few exceptions, all his characters ; and it is only 
 by being subject to the operations of charms and talismans 
 they are distinguishable from ordinary mortals. In his 
 " Pygmalion and Galatea," his heroine seemed to ask, in 
 the words of the chorus in " Atalanta in Calydon " : 
 
 Was there not evil enough, 
 Mother, and anguish on earth 
 Born with a man at his birth, 
 
 **-:(# -* 
 
 That thou must lay on him love ? 
 
 The lesson in " Broken Hearts " is in part the same, since 
 Love is the destroyer. It shows, however, the vanity of 
 resistance against his might, and so recalls the lovely song 
 in " Valentinian " : 
 
86 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Hear ye ladies that despise 
 
 What the mighty love has done ; 
 Fear examples and be wise 
 
 Fair Calisto was a nun ; 
 Leda, sailing on a stream 
 
 To deceive the hopes of man, 
 Love accounting but a dream, 
 
 Doted on a silver swan ; 
 Danae, in a brazen tower, 
 Where no love was, loved a shower. 
 
 Having, as she believes, lost her lover, Prince Florian of 
 Spain, who is supposed to have been drowned, the Lady 
 Hilda, with four maidens, victims of similar calamity, and 
 with a young sister, the Lady Vavir, a stranger yet to 
 love, seeks a summer island which is a portion of the out- 
 lying domains of Fairy Land. Here, even, though no 
 mortal except Mousta, a deformed dwarf, approaches 
 them, they are not quite safe. As man there is none 
 to cherish, one takes for lover a sun-dial, a second a foun- 
 tain, and a third, moved by an instinct more appreciably 
 feminine, her glass. To this bower comes Prince Florian 
 the Knight, whose rumoured death has driven Hilda into 
 seclusion. Possessor of a magic scarf, of a virtue like that 
 assigned by Madame de Girardin to the famous Canne de 
 M. de Balzac, of rendering its wearer invisible, Florian 
 amuses himself by answering the loving words addressed 
 by the maidens to the objects of their preference. With 
 one of these, Hilda, he is much impressed. Being happy 
 enough to overhear her confession of affection for him, 
 admiration at once ripens into love. While waiting an 
 opportunity to avow himself, he is deprived of the talisman 
 by Mousta, who, having long loved Hilda, employs it as a 
 means to woo her unseen. Personating a fountain, Mousta 
 speeds so well in his courtship, he induces the maiden to 
 go through a form of betrothal. Her horror at discovering 
 in the man to whom she is affianced her own misshapen 
 servant is, of course, intense. By stratagem she gains 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 87 
 
 from him the scarf, and then, with bitter derision, bids him 
 profit by a bride he shall never see again. The difficulty 
 thus raised is in the end conquered. Before the lovers are 
 made happy Vavir has to die " On ne badine pas avec 
 V amour !" From the words carelessly addressed to her by 
 Florian, Vavir has drawn a passionate love, the defeat of 
 which means death. Mainly by gentle stratagems Hilda 
 and Florian strive to comfort her. She is like the little 
 western flower on which the bolt of Cupid fell 
 
 Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound. 
 
 Her death is painless, however, and her last adieux to the 
 lovers are coupled with words of affection. 
 
 So ends a play which, though weak in parts, is tender, 
 touching, and poetical. Many of the speeches are happy 
 in language as well as dramatic, and the entire action is 
 supremely moving. Faults of detail are observable in 
 minor matters. Mousta's surrender of his schemes of 
 vengeance, upon the delivery by Florian of some words 
 not too noteworthy for kindness, is an instance of the 
 species of gratitude that Shylock repudiated in his dealing 
 with Antonio : 
 
 Fair sir, you spat on me on Wednesday last, 
 You spurn'd me such a day ; another time 
 You call'd me dog, and for these courtesies 
 I'll lend you thus much moneys. 
 
 The character of Vavir needs very delicate treatment, and 
 with a less admirable interpretation would probably have 
 proved mawkish. Miss Hollingshead imparted to it, how- 
 ever, a purity and delicacy such as have seldom been seen 
 on the stage. To this supreme purity, indeed, the success 
 of the whole was principally ascribable. Mrs. Kendal, as 
 Hilda, was once or twice declamatory, and at the 
 close, by a scream as out of place as would be a clang of 
 cymbals at the termination of Mendelssohn's overture to 
 
88 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 the " Midsummer Night's Dream," almost ruined the 
 play. The piece does not call for realistic interpretation. 
 It is probable enough a woman would scream on finding her 
 sister dead. The motive, however, in this case is different, 
 the piece being intended to end in a pianissimo. After 
 implanting two kisses on the pallid lips, th2 sound of which 
 was quite audible in the breathless silence of the house, 
 Mrs. Kendal should have thrown herself into her lover's 
 arms. In her general rendering Mrs. Kendal was excel- 
 lent. Mr. Kendal was gallant as the Prince, and Mr. 
 Anson effective as the dwarf. It is creditable to English 
 audiences that a piece of this character should obtain a 
 warmly favourable verdict. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Haymarket : "Romeo and Juliet". Duke's: "Too True" 
 a drama in three acts, by H. T. Craven. Haymarket : 
 "As You Like It". Haymarket: "Anne Boleyn" a 
 drama in five acts, by Tom Taylor. Lyceum : 
 "Othello". Olympic : " The Gascon ," a drama in five 
 acts, by W. Muskerry. Globe: "Jo" a drama in three 
 acts, by J. P. Burnett. 
 
 Miss NEILSON'S Juliet has undergone little modifica- Jan. 22, 1876. 
 tion. In the early scenes it is still noteworthy for girlish 
 gaiety and light-heartedness, through which a passionate 
 temperament is revealed ; at the close, it rises to tragic 
 intensity in late years not often rivalled. But for a slight 
 suspicion of over-sweetness in one or two passages, 
 especially in the cajolery of the Nurse, always overdone 
 on the modern stage, the character of Juliet, as she stands 
 in the flush of amorous maidenhood, is fully realised. It 
 should be remembered that Juliet belongs to the noblest 
 blood of Italy, and her youthful tenderness to her Nurse 
 should show some measure of such reserve as the know- 
 ledge of rank seldom fails to breed. In the scene in which 
 the Friar suggests to Juliet the means of escape from the 
 dreaded marriage with Paris, the face of the actress is a 
 study. Doubt, misgiving, and affright chase each other 
 across it, until the mention of Romeo and the glad thought 
 that he will be ready to clasp her to his bosom overcome 
 all shadow of scruple, and bring back to her face and heart 
 some of the glad light of early days. In the scenes im- 
 
 (89) 
 
90 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 mediately preceding this, when the girl listens hopelessly 
 to the stern commands and cruel threats of her father, the 
 actress is seen at her best. Her look is dazed with sorrow. 
 She takes in imperfectly what is said to her, and as one 
 avenue after another, to which, like some hunted animal, 
 she turns, is seen to bristle with spears, a smile of heroic 
 resolve breaks forth when she remembers that death at 
 least remains to enable her to escape the menaced cala- 
 mity. Especially excellent is her delivery of the lines to 
 her Nurse, after receiving from her lips the iniquitous 
 counsel to " marry with the county : " 
 
 Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. 
 
 The potion-scene is profoundly impressive, the look 
 of horror and recoil as her imagination conjures up the 
 thought of what may happen to her in the grim vault, of 
 which she is to be the only living inmate, being appalling. 
 We can conceive of this scene being enacted with more 
 reserve of force. No living English exponent has, how- 
 ever, rendered it equally thrilling, and it is possible that, 
 with less expenditure of effort, a less powerful result might 
 be obtained. There are passages before this in which a 
 higher effect might be obtained by rendering the feeling 
 more remote. Juliet'.s observation upon asking the name 
 of Romeo 
 
 If he be married, 
 My grave is like to be my wedding bed 
 
 might with advantage be delivered with less significance. 
 Juliet's vision of coming sorrow is dim, and her words are 
 scarcely intended to do more than hint at the calamity to 
 which, in youthful defiance of omen, she refers. It is 
 difficult to explain here clearly what is meant. Juliet, 
 however, though, obedient to some inward impulse, she 
 speaks words the melancholy portent of which is obvious 
 to the audience, does not herself believe in the reality of 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. QI 
 
 the danger foreshadowed. Her look, then, should be 
 fateful rather than tragic, if the things can be separated. 
 She should look what in old English and in Scotch is 
 called " fey " fated to die, rather than impressed with an 
 absolute prevision of her own destiny. In tragic power 
 and in beauty the impersonation is alike remarkable ; and 
 the suggestions we make affect only the rendering of in- 
 dividual passages, and do not detract from the general 
 merits of a performance which is one of the highest on the 
 modern stage. Serious alterations have been made in the 
 version, the play being now performed in six acts. As 
 these scarcely interfere with the order of the scenes, and 
 not at all with the spoken dialogue, and as the result is to 
 secure what in modern days is called a dramatic termina- 
 tion to each act, it is difficult to censure them. Innova- 
 tions of this kind are dangerous, however, as they pave 
 the way to further alterations. In Shakspeare's days it 
 was not sought, as now, to terminate an act with a tab- 
 leau. Modern practices in this respect do not seem to 
 have done much for the stage. There is a growing danger 
 that, in our regard for the dramatic grouping of figures, 
 we may lose sight of that more important province of the 
 dramatist, the subordination of incident to character. 
 
 AT the outset of his new drama, " Too True," Mr. Jan. 29, 1876. 
 Craven has sought, apparently, to quit the track along 
 which he is in the habit of journeying. Habit, however, 
 or something of the kind, has proved too strong for him, 
 and he has ended, in his own despite, by bowling along 
 the familiar road to the customary terminus. The histori- 
 cal background he has provided is of small effect : the 
 armed troopers, the laced retainers, all the historical 
 frippery he has brought together, are of no account with 
 his audience, or, when they move it at all, move it only to 
 
92 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 derision. Stripped of superfluous and irrelevant matter, 
 "Too True," which has been given at the Duke's Theatre, 
 is as completely domestic in interest as "The Post Boy " 
 or "The Chimney Corner". Mr. Craven will, we 
 think, do well to learn the lesson that his line does not 
 extend beyond those well-defined limits within which 
 his triumphs have been accomplished, and that the 
 endeavour to add historical dignity to the characters he 
 draws is about as serviceable as would be the plan of 
 dressing himself in greaves and hauberk to face the 
 customary perils of the streets. 
 
 It has. from time to time, been the fashion among 
 painters to meet on given days at each other's houses, 
 and devote a couple of hours to a water-colour sketch of 
 some subject suggested by the host of the evening. How 
 powerless are men to get out of familiar grooves has been 
 shown again and again on these occasions. The choice 
 of a subject would not enable a painter to depart from 
 his customary line. Whether the theme were war or 
 physic, Landseer would still furnish a study of animal 
 life, Stanfield would draw his illustration from marine 
 affairs, and Roberts would furnish an interior. So it is 
 with Mr. Craven. His new historical drama is but his 
 domestic drama " writ large ". His added finery serves 
 no purpose except to get in the way of his feet and make 
 him stumble. 
 
 The main interest of his drama is derived from the 
 sufferings of a husband who sees his wife condemned to 
 death and is powerless to save her. In order further to 
 complicate the matter he is supplied with apparent cause 
 for jealousy, his wife's sentence having been incurred in 
 an attempt to rescue a young gallant who has seemed for 
 a short period his rival in her affections. To bring about 
 this situation Mr. Craven has placed once more upon the 
 stage the famous doings of the Bloody Assize, and has 
 presented the man whose life has to be saved as com- 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 93 
 
 promised with the authorities in consequence of afford- 
 ing shelter to Monmouth. This historical background 
 proves wholly inappropriate so inappropriate, indeed, 
 that the audience is absolutely startled at finding the 
 heroine condemned to be burned at the stake for the 
 offence of sheltering a suspected traitor. Mr. Craven 
 quotes from Macaulay a passage to the effect that James 
 the Second regarded as the worst of traitors those 
 who harboured rebels. Such a statement does not 
 reconcile us to the idea of a woman being burned for a 
 political offence. Theological heresy, such as a charge of 
 witchcraft, has generally been necessary to induce men to 
 treat women with such deplorable cruelty. Another result 
 of the treatment is that Government is represented as 
 attaching to the grant of a pardon to the condemned 
 woman a condition so extravagant that it would, if true, 
 deserve to be classed with jocular tenures and other such 
 whimsicalities. That a striking situation is thus obtained 
 does not vindicate the employment of such a deus ex 
 inachind as a Government condescending in its punitive 
 measures to attach absurd conditions to the arrest of a 
 criminal. To the treachery of a jealous woman is ascrib- 
 able the peril of the heroine. After the supposed traitor 
 has escaped, his mistress, jealous of his relations to the 
 woman who has aided him, contrives by a forgery to 
 incriminate her, and to make the apparent responsibility 
 of the deed fall upon the fugitive. That a man who hears 
 of such infamy being coupled with his name should return 
 to yield himself in place of the victim of her own humanity 
 is conceivable ; that the authorities should insist, as the 
 sole condition on which pardon could be accorded to the 
 woman imprisoned and condemned, that the returned 
 rebel must be yielded up by his mistress, and none other, 
 shows a species of squeamishness with regard to the cap- 
 ture of enemies with which the Government of James has 
 not been credited. Thus though the tortures of Janet 
 
94 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Coventry are intense, we refuse to believe in them. A 
 struggle keener than that she undergoes can scarcely be 
 exhibited. She watches with despairing eyes the progress 
 to the stake of one whom she has sent to his death, as she 
 now knows, with no shadow of cause ; she hears from 
 agonising lips the charge of murder brought against her ; 
 and she listens to the conjurations of her lover himself, 
 who urges her to comply with the cruel demand, 
 and yield him up, assuring her that on this condition alone 
 will he forgive the wrong she has done his honour. Too 
 much for human force, or at least for her force, is the 
 sacrifice. She can die herself in place of her victim ; but 
 her lover she cannot, and will not, surrender. This is fine 
 in itself, and is true to feminine nature. So true is it we 
 cannot repress our regret that it springs out of an impossi- 
 bility, and so fails to commend itself to the intelligence. 
 The play has interest. Its comic characters are so weak 
 and tiresome, it would be unjust to lay upon the exponents, 
 poor as these showed themselves, the reproach of the 
 ironical demonstrations with which they were hailed. 
 The leading characters are sympathetic, and one or two 
 of them are well supported. Mr. Craven's own acting in 
 the husband of the condemned woman has pathos. Miss 
 Louisa Moore shows feeling as the heroine, and Mr. 
 Macklin presents conscientiously the young fugitive. 
 The general interpretation, however, is weak. In spite 
 of the warm reception awarded the play at its close, it 
 may be doubted whether it has a chance of lasting 
 popularity. Its claims to rank as art are dependent upon 
 one or two strong situations. The dialogue is in prose, 
 which is so cadenced as to convey at times the impression 
 we are listening to blank verse. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 95 
 
 IT is strange that "As You Like It," which has Feb. 57 1876. 
 been revived at the Haymarket, should not, during late 
 years, have been given with a strong cast, and under 
 conditions that might obtain for it a prolonged run. 
 In days when the "School for Scandal," "Money," 
 " London Assurance," and other pieces of established 
 reputation, have been played for scores and hundreds of 
 nights, there seems to be a chance for a piece which is at 
 once a work of the highest imagination and the most 
 effective of acting comedies. It may be said of this play 
 that, under the most pitiful conditions, with the sorriest 
 company, and with no more effective scenery than the 
 stock resources of a fourth-rate theatre can always sup- 
 ply, its hold upon an audience, once attracted, is stronger 
 than that of any other dramatic work. There is probably 
 no instance of a man of taste having once entered a theatre 
 while it was in course of performance, and resisting its in- 
 fluence, or leaving before the close. Nowhere else in 
 literature are the real and the Arcadian so harmoniously 
 united. That enchanted ground of Arden is at once fairy- 
 land and home. Its denizens are influenced by passions such 
 as our own. They yield to joys and sorrows with which 
 we sympathise, and are, in all respects, our counterparts. 
 Yet the world is one in which the baser part of our nature 
 falls off or is purified. The murderer who enters its pre- 
 cincts confesses his crime, and makes tardy atonement. 
 The usurper, at the head of banded troops, forsakes his 
 schemes of vengeance, and relinquishes his ill-gotten pos- 
 sessions. Nothing remains to tell of human error, except 
 a little gentle and gracious banter of folly. The world is 
 Love's world, and Love is lord of all. In presence of that 
 great potentate, prince and peasant are equal, and the 
 noble, with frank avowal, responds to the confidences of the 
 clown. What Silvius professes for Phebe, Orlando echoes 
 for Rosalind. Over the play this magic broods, and the 
 first words the princess finds to say to the man who, in her 
 
96 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 presence, wrestles with and overthrows his enemy, show 
 how paramount is the sway of Love : 
 
 Sir, you have well deserved ; 
 If you do keep your promises in love 
 But justly, as you have exceeded promise, 
 Your mistress shall be happy. 
 
 Ignorance supplies the only reason why the public are 
 not attracted to "As You Like It" as they are to other 
 plays. Once let the playgoing world know what is pro- 
 vided for them, and the result cannot be doubtful. Now, 
 however, when the most popular of English actresses plays 
 Rosalind, in a theatre that claims to be the special home 
 of comedy, " As You Like It " is employed as a mere stop- 
 gap, and is put up for no more than four nights. 
 
 The company cannot be regarded as strong, though 
 some parts are fairly sustained. Miss Neilson is irre- 
 sistible in the forest scenes, and gives the banter of 
 Orlando and the inveighal against Phebe with marvellous 
 brightness. Her madcap spirits, natural enough in one 
 capable of disguising herself in hose and doublet, fairly 
 run away with her, and carry with them the spectator; 
 and the archness and sauciness of the whole, dashed as 
 they are at times with sadness and with passion, are elec- 
 trical. The lighter scenes in this play are better than 
 those in " Juliet/' more impulsive and freer from artifice. 
 Mr. Conway's Orlando is manly in the early scenes, and is 
 capable throughout. Especially good is the manner in 
 which, yielding to the irresistible fascination of his dis- 
 guised mistress, he yet conveys a sense of the ludicrous 
 side of the mock wooing in which he is called to indulge. 
 Mr. Harcourt's Jacques has points of merit, but is decidedly 
 inferior to his Mercutio. 
 
UNIVERSITY 
 
 or 
 
 - 
 
 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 97 
 
 AFTER the attempt of the Laureate to give dramatic Feh.-ra, 1876. 
 expression to the hysterical ecstasies of Mary Tudor comes 
 Mr. Taylor's effort to dignify and idealise the love fancies 
 of Anne Boleyn. The one experiment is about as hope- 
 less as the other. Mary's cruel zeal and fanatical intoler- 
 ance, which coupled eternally with her name the most 
 odious epithet, by means of which a nation has resented 
 and revenged its wrongs, are scarcely more distasteful to 
 English thought or more repellent to English sympathies 
 than Anne's sly cajolery of her royal master. Both cha- 
 racters are, indeed, the product of foreign influences. 
 Mary's religion was born beneath Spanish skies in the 
 dark heart of Isabella, and Anne's arts were learned of 
 French and Italian intriguers at the Court of the first 
 Francis. It is difficult to conceive how a dramatist so 
 skilful as Mr. Taylor, and so quick to feel the public pulse, 
 can have fallen into an error so grave as is involved in the 
 choice of a heroine. Something might, perhaps, have been 
 hoped from Anne's connection with the movement out of 
 which sprang the Reformation. Without, however, wholly 
 ignoring this, Mr. Taylor has reduced it to the position of 
 an episode, one of many in which the public is not greatly 
 interested. As such even it failed in its effect, and a long 
 passage about no home being without an English Bible 
 did not win any strong manifestation of approval. 
 Leaning but slightly upon such supports, the drama- 
 tist has presented Anne as in love with her bluff wooer, 
 has endeavoured to palliate her treachery and elevate her 
 whimsies to the dignity of passion. The treatment wants 
 the only justification that could be advanced in its behalf 
 success. Not for a moment does the heroine touch our 
 sympathies or get near our hearts ; and the only feeling 
 aroused when Jane Seymour revenges the wrongs of 
 Katharine is that poetic justice has been awarded. It is, 
 of course, impossible not to detest the treachery, cruelty, 
 and servility which led Anne to the block, in order to leave 
 
 7 
 
98 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 her royal paramour free to contract fresh nuptials as brief 
 and as dishonouring as those from which he is loosed. 
 Pity is, however, tardy in declaring itself, and never ap- 
 proaches the point at which it grows tragic. Anne's 
 character is, indeed, deficient, not only in everything that 
 prepares the way for tragic terror, but in such minor, if 
 still important, qualifications as dignity and womanliness. 
 Her position beside her mistress, whom she betrays, will 
 not readily in England win forgiveness, while her intrigue 
 with her royal lover develops no single quality that can 
 obtain for illicit passion either pardon or sympathy. It is 
 essentially pitiful and unromantic, and such, in the 
 dramatic action Mr. Taylor has shaped, it remains. 
 
 In his treatment of his subject, Mr. Taylor has not 
 been much happier than in its choice. He has over- 
 crowded his canvas with characters w 7 hich serve no im- 
 portant, or, at least, no adequate purpose. He has sought, 
 apparently, to give a picture of the life of an epoch, rather 
 than to evolve carefully a dramatic conception. As a 
 consequence, the slight thread of fable is lost sight of in 
 the complication of details ; no strong sympathy is 
 enlisted, and no feeling is provoked strong enough to 
 conquer the sense of weariness begotten of long and un- 
 necessary dialogue. Very pretty are the scenes of wooing 
 in the pleasance at Hever Court ; songs and dances are 
 edifyingly correct in archaeological respects, and the pageant 
 of history is carefully unfolded. Something more than this 
 is required to make a play, and this something is wanting. 
 It is useless to go seriatim through the scenes of Anne's 
 life which Mr. Taylor has selected for stage presentation, 
 since they fail to supply us with a distinct idea of her 
 character. ' 
 
 We see her passionately enamoured of Percy, whom, 
 however, she dismisses so soon as she finds he is timid 
 enough to fear paternal indignation, and take counsel of 
 prudence in his dealings with love. To avoid a hated 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 99 
 
 match with the Butlers, she defies her father, Wolsey, 
 Northumberland, and Henry himself ; preparing, if needs 
 be, to fly from the Court rather than yield her liberty. 
 Under the smiles of her royal lover she warms, until her 
 conscience, mistrustful ever, is quieted, and she throws 
 herself into his arms before her predecessor's divorce has 
 been pronounced. Once married, her knowledge of her 
 own frailty does not render her lenient in her treatment 
 of those butterfly proceedings in her Court in which she 
 has once been an ardent participator. Jane Seymour's 
 behaviour to the King, closely resembling her own, 
 rouses her to madness of jealousy, in which she seems 
 ready to take her rival's life. In presence of defeat, dis- 
 honour, and imminent death, she grows pious and heroical, 
 going in the end to the block \vith fortitude and com- 
 posure. It is possible enough for a woman to go through 
 these states of feeling. There is, however, no dominant 
 or informing quality which enables us to single Anne from 
 other heroines, or to speculate as to how she will behave 
 under anticipated conditions. She is not even " constant 
 in inconstancy ". A certain frankness of manner and a 
 girlish sincerity of bearing seem rather a gift of the 
 actress than the dramatist. Miss Neilson succeeded, 
 indeed, in giving the character a virginal charm, which at 
 one period went near rendering it sympathetic. In pre- 
 sence of Anne's rapture at recovering an early gift of 
 Henry of which Wyatt had deprived her, the most suspici- 
 ous of husbands \vould retain no spark of jealousy. Her 
 pride and delight in her imperious master recall the child- 
 like gratification of Amy Robsart with the splendour of 
 Leicester. The defiance of Jane Seymour rose to dramatic 
 intensity, and the prosaic scenes of separation from her 
 maidens received impressiveness from the bearing of the 
 actress. These scenes are, however, clogged with un- 
 necessary business -; her triumph over her rival leads to a 
 defeat more humiliating than that she has inflicted, and 
 
IOO DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 her presentation of souvenirs to her friends at the moment 
 of departure is trivial. It is natural that a queen should 
 give her attendants at such supreme moment some gage 
 of affection. It should be personal, however; some jewel 
 hastily unclasped, the scarf that enfolds her, something of 
 which she can hurriedly divest herself not books brought 
 by an attendant, and recalling school-prizes bestowed on 
 pupils at the moment of breaking-up for the holidays. 
 Some of the subordinate characters received satisfactory 
 interpretation. Miss Carlisle's Jane Seymour was feline, 
 and Miss Henri's Lady Rochford subtle and venomous. 
 Both presentations were satisfactory, and the former 
 showed dramatic insight. Mr. Arthur Cecil's Chapuis had 
 a breadth which nothing in the previous performances of 
 the actor had shown. Mr. Howe, Mr. Kyrle, Mr. Conway, 
 and Mr. Robertson acquitted themselves satisfactorily in 
 other parts. 
 
 Feb. 19, 1876. THE reflection forced upon the mind by the kind of 
 audience assembled upon a first night at the Lyceum, and 
 by the reception awarded Mr. Irving when he essays a new 
 character, is that the modern English actor has stumbled 
 upon fortunate times. Kean, in the height of his triumphs, 
 awoke no greater enthusiasm than is now displayed ; and 
 Macready, during his best days, inspired no equal interest. 
 It is necessary to turn, indeed, to France, and the career 
 of Rachel, when she stood forth the confessed queen of 
 tragedy, if we would find instances of parallel excitement. 
 With the sound of frantic and reiterated applause still 
 ringing in the ears, it is impossible to doubt the sincerity 
 of public conviction. Rightly or wrongly, a considerable 
 portion of the playgoing public sees in Mr. Irving the 
 actor of the day, or of the future, and regards the Lyceum 
 management as possessing the strongest claim upon its 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. IOI 
 
 consideration. Each opinion is defensible. Not only in 
 points of detail, but in the manner generally in which 
 pieces are produced under its care, the Lyceum manage- 
 ment is worthy of praise, while of Mr. Irving it may be said 
 that no living English actor takes greater pains -to justify 
 the opinions his friends express, and none unites more 
 physical advantages to energy more untiring. Successive 
 experiments, however, do as much to strengthen the 
 opinion, already finding utterance, that Mr. Irving's 
 highest reputation will not be achieved in Shakspearian 
 parts, as to harden his admirers in their conviction that in 
 him is continued the long roll of great tragedians. At the 
 present moment Mr. Irving's art is not tragic. That it 
 may grow such under the influence of time is probable 
 enough. The roughest and strongest wines are those 
 on which time exercises most beneficial effects. Mr. 
 Irving, however, has to be judged as he now is. His 
 Othello is as far as his Macbeth, and farther thanhis Hamlet, 
 from conveying the idea of one capable of forming and ex- 
 pressing a great conception of a heroic character. Such 
 light as there is falls upon Othello from without, and is 
 not generated within. Parts are intelligent, others rise into 
 impressiveness and power, and in one or two cases there 
 is some of the electricity of passion. The whole is, how- 
 ever, unequal, and wanting in sustained force. No great 
 conception animates and intensifies the impersonation. It 
 is not too much to say that Othello is scarcely indi- 
 vidualised. There are moments when we might fancy the 
 character was Macbeth or Julius Caesar with a brown 
 face ; there is a complete, and, as it appears, a studied 
 absence of Oriental colour, and there is more of European 
 culture and refinement than of African imagination and 
 heat of temperament. Add to this that the performance is 
 disturbed by mannerism and disfigured by excess of 
 grimace, and adequate reasons are adduced against its 
 standing in the first rank of art. 
 
102 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 To show cause for a defect is not to remove or justify 
 it. The too plaintive and lachrymose side of Mr. Irving's 
 Othello is probably ascribable to a desire on the part of 
 the actor to avoid any appearance of following in the foot- 
 steps of Signor Salvini. An artist, however, has nothing 
 to do with previous performance. He has to get as near 
 as possible to the character he assumes, and if others be- 
 fore him have realised a phase of it, he is not, therefore, 
 to misread that phase, or leave it altogether unnoticed. 
 Between the undraped animalism of the Othello of Signor 
 Salvini and the moral and intellectual stays and starch of 
 that of Mr. Irving there is a wide field. Somewhere in 
 this the true conception of Othello lies. It is far nearer 
 the idea of the Italian, however, than that of the English- 
 man. 
 
 Turning from the conception of Othello, the chief fault 
 in \vhich seems to be the absence of anything on which to 
 seize, the deficiency of colour and of individuality before 
 noted, we come to the points in the performance worthy of 
 praise. The best portion is the commencement of the 
 third act. In this Othello's slowness to attach any import 
 to the words of his tempter, the vague uneasiness grow- 
 ing to horror of he knows not what, were finely thought 
 out and well expressed. Mr. Irving appeared to us to 
 accept the hints of lago as applying to Cassio alone, 
 and resolutely to banish from his mind the thought they 
 might strike nearer home until absolute direction was 
 given them by the words "Beware, my lord, of jealousy". 
 This is a defensible view, probably the most defensible 
 view. Every word in the text seems to convey that 
 Othello up to this point suspects lago of possessing some 
 knowledge of designs upon Desdemona on the part of 
 Cassio. No thought, however, of the possible complicity 
 of Desdemona has as yet presented itself. It is suggested 
 remotely when the words " Oh, misery " are spoken in 
 answer to lago's picture of the torments of jealousy. This 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 103 
 
 view has not before found so clear and intelligible expres- 
 sion. Individual passages in this part of the play were as 
 conspicuously good as the general conception. Almost the 
 only drawback from the scene was the pronunciation of 
 the word "echoes" in the line " By heaven, he echoes 
 me," as though it were spelt "echo-o-oes me," an instance 
 of Mr. Irving's worst and most besetting mannerism. An 
 earlier instance of this went near ruining the entire per- 
 formance. When, after the brawl begotten of Cassio's 
 drunkenness, Othello entered upon the scene, Mr. Irving's 
 painful elaboration of the words 
 
 Hold, for your lives ! 
 
 produced an outburst of laughter, by which the actor was 
 apparently so disturbed as to be unable for some time to 
 regain the requisite presence of mind. To this may be 
 ascribed the fact that Othello during the whole of this 
 scene appeared calm and deliberate, instead of being 
 under the influence of the scarcely repressible excitement 
 which his words over and over again indicate. The 
 delivery of the phrase " I'll not believe it" was excellent, 
 and the utterance of the words " Oh, blood, blood, 
 blood!" was electrical. Fine acting in these. scenes was 
 marred, however, by excessive grimace. Mr. Irving's 
 features are apparently too mobile, and it is not until 
 the fifth act, when, after the death of Desdemona, he 
 assumes a stare of desperation, that he allows any one 
 emotion to hold possession of his face long enough to.be 
 quite intelligible. The scene in which Othello falls into 
 what lago calls an epilepsy, usually omitted in representa- 
 tion, is now restored, and is useful in showing the inward 
 disturbance which prompts the Moor to his terrible action. 
 The signs of swooning had obviously been closely studied, 
 and w r ere faithfully conveyed. Mr. Irving's bearing before 
 the envoys from Venice was good, and his exit upon the 
 words " Goats and monkeys ! " was effective. A sense of 
 
104 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 defeat and weariness was expressed at the commencement 
 of the last act, and the blank desolation of the concluding 
 scene was impressive. 
 
 We have dwelt upon what seemed worthy of praise 
 rather than upon defects of style, so far as regards indi- 
 vidual passages, since the task would be long to mention 
 in detail the scenes in which a different bearing or tone 
 seemed desirable. Of the more passionate scenes gene- 
 rally, it is enough to say that, while they disclosed thought 
 and intention, they were uneasily and inadequately 
 rendered, and more frequently violent than intense. 
 
 Of Mr. Forrester's lago it is difficult to speak too highly. 
 For the first time for many years, we have seen an lago 
 by whom Othello without extreme folly could be deceived. 
 The acting was honest and plausible throughout, and had a 
 wheedling and cajoling tenderness in the scenes of Othello's 
 trial that intensified the villainy of the part, while it ex- 
 plained the credulity of the Moor. In the fifth act the 
 look of cynical contempt mixed with pain from his wound, 
 and somewhat of interest with which lago contemplated 
 the results of his machinations, was excellent. 
 
 Mr. Brooke, as Cassio., might, with advantage, assume 
 more importance of bearing, when in the flush of his new 
 dignity he enters to Othello. His drunkenness, moreover, 
 was too good-natured. Cassio's is a morose and splenetic 
 drunkenness ; a man who is hilariously excited by liquor 
 is not likely to draw upon his companion without any 
 apparent cause. Mr. Mead's Brabantio was excellent in 
 action, but too rotund in speech. Miss Bateman's Emilia 
 was spirited, and her delivery of the harangue against the 
 Moor proved profoundly stirring and impressive. Miss 
 Isabel Bateman's Desdemona was graceful ; her attitudes 
 were at times expressive. Her voice, however, in the 
 emotional scenes, was metallic and unsympathetic. Her 
 singing of the Willow Song, an injudicious introduction 
 under the circumstances, with a less friendly majority 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 105 
 
 would have stopped the performance. The mounting of the 
 piece, and the general arrangements, showed intelligence. 
 Some unjustifiable liberties are, however, taken. Why has 
 Roderigo no sword ? It is impossible to conceive a young 
 Venetian accompanying, weaponless, an armed expedition 
 of his countrymen, and entering into the fray with Cassio. 
 In lago's description to Othello of the riot at Cyprus, he 
 speaks of " Cassio following him with determined sword ". 
 Cassio does no such thing, nor could he well, seeing that 
 Roderigo has no means of resistance. There is room for 
 amendment in the opening business, moreover, as regards 
 the disposition of the followers of the Duke, and those of 
 Brabantio. 
 
 The entire performance has interest and value. It 
 belongs, however, to an epoch which future days will 
 probably regard as transitional. 
 
 To Mr. Neville's growing inclination to play such roles, Feb. 26, 1876. 
 partly chivalrous, partly comic, in the romantic drama as 
 have been associated with the feme of M. Melingue, may 
 be ascribed his production at the Olympic of a version of 
 " Le Gascon " of M. Barriere. The original piece was given 
 at the Gaite in the autumn of 1873, when that theatre 
 first passed under the management of M. Offenbach. Its 
 nine tableaux have been reduced to six, a considerable 
 number of excisions have been made, and something more 
 of a Scottish air has been given to the whole by the sub- 
 stitution of familiar Scotch patronymics for the norns de 
 fantaisie of the author. Not easy, however, is it to render 
 tolerable to English notions French treatment of British 
 themes. Two causes are operative in producing this 
 result : the first, the complete ignorance of Frenchmen in 
 general of any aspect of English thought or feeling ; the 
 second, their unconquerable disposition to sentimentalise 
 
106 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 all subjects with which they deal. Never, perhaps, was 
 the national tendency more fully illustrated than when 
 Mr. Fechter presented Hamlet as a typical jeune premier. 
 M. Barriere follows in the same track, and exhibits Mary 
 Stuart as indulging with Chastelard in a love intrigue as 
 rapid in growth as it is vulgar in development. According 
 to Puff, in the " Critic," this treatment is always permis- 
 sible. " It is a received point among poets that where 
 history gives you a good heroic outline for a play you may 
 fill up with love at your own discretion ; in doing which 
 nine times out of ten you only make up a deficiency in 
 the private history of the times." We have now had 
 more than enough " scandal," however, if not about 
 " Queen Elizabeth," at least about her rival and victim. 
 
 There is no need to enter upon the question of Mary's 
 relations with the French poet, whom M. Barriere, like 
 Mr. Swinburne, has made the hero of his drama. It is 
 repellent, however, to find Queen Mary in her amours 
 recalling a servant-girl who has but one Sunday in a 
 fortnight in which to complete her task of conquest. In 
 saying this we are not laying the entire blame upon Mrs. 
 Rousby. The fault is, in some measure, that of the 
 dramatist, who, besides depicting the courts of Paris and 
 Edinburgh as the scene of perpetual intrigue, which doubt- 
 less they were, has, moreover, presented the Queen and 
 her maids-of-honour as whispering in corners with men 
 they scarcely know, and running off at every moment 
 when a chance is afforded of leaving together, we will not 
 say a pair of lovers, but a couple of beings of opposite 
 sexes. This primary vulgarity of conception is inten- 
 sified by the actress, who, in yielding, goes beyond the 
 apparent intention of the dramatist. No very shocking 
 or unfamiliar picture is presented when a young lover is 
 seen singing beneath the balcony of his mistress, nor is 
 the guerdon judged excessive if the lady, queen though she 
 be, drops from the opened lattice to her gallant a flower or 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 107 
 
 a billet. Far beyond this goes, however, Mary Stuart. 
 She realises to the utmost the dream that Keats framed 
 for Psyche, who, be it remembered, is the bride of Cupid 
 a dream of 
 
 all soft delight 
 
 That shadowy thought can win ; 
 A bright torch, and a casement ope at night 
 To let the warm Love in. 
 
 Long before the musician is heard Mary is " craning " 
 forth from the lattice to watch for his arrival, Her 
 passion finds voluble utterance, and when Chastelard 
 ascends to her chamber her arms enfold his neck, and her 
 warm kisses are showered upon him with such rapture 
 that her subsequent avowal that she loves him, instead of 
 coming to him as a surprise, is startling for its tardiness 
 rather than for its vehemence. 
 
 The Gascon meanwhile, in the English version entitled 
 Le Chevalier Artaban de Puycadere, is a compound of 
 D'Artagnan and Don Caesar de Bazan, with a slight 
 suggestion of Le Capitaine Fracasse, and even, in his 
 surroundings, of Edgar of Ravenswood. He is the sworn 
 friend of Chastelard and of Mary, and to his watchfulness, 
 bravery, power of recovery from wounds, and capacity for 
 lying, it is due, first, that Mary finds her way into Holy- 
 rood ; next, that she escapes the machinations of a certain 
 Lord Maxwell and other turbulent nobles ; and, lastly, 
 that the life of her lover is preserved to a period beyond 
 the close of the drama. His own reward comes in the 
 shape of a princedom and the hand of Mary Carmichael. 
 The drama has spirit, but the extravagance of which it is 
 full is unsuited to English tastes. That comedy of cape 
 and sword which began in Spain, and has kept a hold upon 
 the public of France and Southern Italy, has never main- 
 tained long a place among nations with a trace of Teutonic 
 blood. Fond as Englishmen have shown themselves of 
 the novels of Dumas, once the master of this class of 
 
I08 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 literature, his plays have met with no permanent favour, 
 and "The Corsican Brothers " is the only work from his 
 pen which can still, so far as London is concerned, be 
 called an acting piece. 
 
 Mr. Neville played the Gascon, first supported by M. 
 Lafontaine, with spirit and gallantry, and Mrs. Rousby 
 looked admirably the part of Mary. The remaining 
 characters were sustained by Miss Josephs, Mrs. Stephens, 
 Mr. G. Neville, Mr. W. H. Fisher, and other members of 
 the company. In plays of this kind, however, English 
 acting realises too fully, presenting what should be 
 suggested, and shocking by a naked sincerity of detail. 
 
 A DRAMATIC version of an episode in the " Bleak 
 House " of Dickens is the latest novelty at the Globe. 
 If" Jo " survives a charge of being too gloomy, to which 
 it must be pronounced open, since there is not an act 
 without a death, natural or violent, and the whole interest 
 seems to spring and end in a burial-ground, it may claim 
 a favourable verdict. It traces to its end the career of 
 Jo, the typical street vagabond, in whose favour Dickens 
 sought to enlist English sympathies. Its sad lesson 
 needs, indeed, to be taken to heart. In a sense this story 
 of Jo's sufferings is an idyll of our streets. As the sound 
 of Consuelo's kisses still clings to the walls of Venice Jo's 
 hoarse and plaintive murmurs, as he is driven forth along 
 his restless path, may yet be supposed to echo through 
 our courts and byways. To this story the whole action of 
 the play is subordinated. There is no pretence of a love 
 interest, for Guppy's impertinent advances to Esther can 
 no more claim the title than the freely accorded kiss 
 bestowed by " Guster " upon the hero when the end is at 
 hand. The melodramatic portions of the novel, the dis- 
 appearance and death of Lady Dedlock, the death of Sir 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 109 
 
 Leicester, the murder of Mr. Tulkinghorn, the arrest of 
 Hortense, and the inquest upon Jo's mysterious benefactor, 
 are only introduced for the apparent purpose of showing 
 how they affect this waif of society. Some ingenuity is 
 displayed in the way in which these not too homogeneous 
 interests are welded and shaped into three acts. The 
 dramatist has, however, been fortunate in the exponent 
 he has obtained for the principal part. Miss Jenny Lee, 
 a young lady known principally in burlesque, played the 
 part of Jo with a realism and a pathos difficult to surpass. 
 In get up and in acting the character was thoroughly 
 realised ; and the hoarse voice, the slouching dejected 
 gait, and the movements as of some hunted animal, were 
 admirably exhibited. Mr. Burnett, the author, played 
 Buckett, the detective; Miss Dolores Drummond showed 
 power as Hortense; Mr. Wilmot gave a picture of 
 unctuous sanctimony as Mr. Chadband ; and. Miss Kate 
 Lee exhibited some promise as Glister. The play was 
 received with favour, in spite of the sepulchral element in 
 it so largely developed that the idea of a dramatisation 
 of " Blair's Grave " appears now scarcely extravagant. 
 The comic scenes, as a rule, were failures, and Mrs. 
 Snagsby's jealousies and Mr. Guppy's impertinencies 
 might with advantage be excised. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 H ay market : "Measure for Measure'' 1 . Lyceum: "Queen 
 Mary," a drama in five acts, by Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 -April 8, 1876, "MEASURE FOR MEASURE" has never been a favourite 
 acting play. After the production in 1604 no record 
 exists of any representation until, in 1700, at the 
 Lincoln's Inn Fields Theatre, Betterton played Angelo, 
 and Mrs. Bracegirdle Isabella, in a version altered by 
 Gildon after Davenant. In 1720 " Measure for Measure" 
 was again given at the same theatre, with Quin as 
 the Duke, a part he was still playing a quarter of a 
 century later. In 1738 it was performed at Drury Lane ; 
 in 1742 at Covent Garden; and in 1746 at both houses, 
 Peg Woffington making this year her first appearance 
 as the heroine. In 1755 and 1775 it was again given 
 at Drury Lane, and at Covent Garden in 1770 and 
 1780. On November 3, 1783, Mrs. Siddons made her first 
 appearance as Isabella. In 1794 she repeated her perfor- 
 mance, Kemble playing the Duke ; Charles Kemble, 
 Claudio ; Blanchard, Elbow ; Knight, Lucio ; and Emery 
 the Clown. In 1816 Young appeared as the Duke and 
 Miss O'Neil as Isabella. In 1824 the Duke was assumed 
 by Macready, Listen was an abominable Lucio, and Mrs. 
 Bunn was the heroine. After another long lapse of years, 
 "Measure for Measure" was revived by Mr. Phelps at 
 Sadler's Wells, with himself as the Duke, and Miss Glyn 
 as Isabella. It has since slept, so far as the English stage 
 is concerned, until, on Saturday last, it was produced at 
 
 the Haymarket. 
 
 (no) 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. Ill 
 
 The reason for this comparative failure seems to be 
 that --none of the characters is thoroughly sympathetic. 
 Coleridge pronounces Isabella unamiable, and Claudio de- 
 testable. Not less detestable surely is Angelo, whose 
 passion might, perhaps, be pardoned, but whose subse- 
 quent treachery is pitiful and abominable. Lucio is a con- 
 firmed liar ; Mariana is ready to purchase, by means not 
 too satisfactory, a union with Angelo, who does not love 
 her, and who, morally, is no great catch. XheJDuke him- 
 serf4s~-SLaccupie.d with plots and mysteries, so tortuous in 
 his proceedings, and so self-satisfied, it is difficult to feel 
 any great admiration for him. Pompey and his disrepu- 
 table surroundings are amusing, but not too edifying ; and 
 Barnardine is scarcely higher in the moral scale than 
 Caliban. Contrary to Shakspeare's wont, accordingly, he 
 leaves nothing in which the spectator can feel strong in- 
 . terest, except the story and the poetical grace of the^ 
 language. In order to understand the indignation into 
 which Isabella is provoked by her brother's cowardice, it 
 is necessary to remember not only that she is a pure- 
 minded woman, but that she is a nun, or, at least, one 
 who has elected to embrace conventual vows and dis- 
 cipline. Each line that she speaks discloses that she is 
 adopting this vocation through no persuasion of others, 
 but on account of her own disposition to a religious life. 
 She may fairly, then, be assumed to have so familiarised- 
 her mind with death as to regard with absolute contempt 
 one who, at the price of dishonour, would purchase a pro- 
 longation of that "death called life, which us from life 
 doth sever ". It is necessary to bear this in mind, not to 
 find extravagant as well as cruel her outbreak when she 
 bids the faint-hearted criminal 
 
 Die ! perish! Might but my bending down 
 Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed : 
 I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death, 
 No word to save thee. 
 
112 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 It is passages such as this which make Coleridge declare the 
 play " the most painful say, rather, the only painful part 
 of Shakspeare's works " ; which cause Hazlitt to declare 
 "that our sympathies are repulsed and defeated in all direc- 
 tions"; and drive the temperate Hallam to ask concerning 
 Isabella u whether, if Claudio had been really executed, 
 the spectator would not have gone away with no great 
 affection for her ". Isabella in some respects stands, in- 
 deed, alone in fiction. As a rule, the heroines of drama 
 extort our admiration by the readiness with which they 
 make sacrifices for the sake of those they love. Isabella 
 claims it on different ground. She refuses to save her 
 brother at the price of her honour. She could, it is true, 
 adopt no other course. Still, while admitting that some 
 credit is to be claimed by one who will not yield up the 
 grace of feminine existence for the sake of a brother, we 
 have a feeling it is possible to question whether a more 
 powerful motive, such as the same danger to herself, might 
 not have driven her to different conduct. No one, of course, 
 believes that Isabella would have saved her own life at 
 the cost of her honour. Virtue, however, exercised at the 
 expense of others can only be regarded as partially tested. 
 While dealing with the play, it is curious to notice an in- 
 stance, the only one we recall in Shakspeare, of that yield- 
 ing to the demands of an audience, which goes some way 
 towards ruining modern comedy. At the close the Duke 
 asks Isabella to lay aside her vows and marry him. 
 Nothing that has gone before justifies this proposal, 
 which is creditable neither to the woman nor her 
 suitor. 
 
 In all essentials Miss Neilson's interpretation was ad- 
 mirable. Our stage has supplied us during late years with 
 few instances of exposition more ample and more satisfac- 
 tory. There is, of course, less variety of emotion in Isabella 
 than in Rosalind, to say nothing of Juliet. So far as the 
 character extends it was, however, perfectly expressed. In 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 113 
 
 iter. convent dress and devoid of all ornaments, Miss Neil- 
 son looked the character to the life, and she gave the 
 speeches allotted to her in a manner that brought to light 
 their remotest beauties. The conception, indeed, seems 
 incapable of improvement. In matters of detail somei 
 modifications might be adopted. Isabella might thus,) 
 with advantage, wait on her knees for the Duke to raise', 
 her, and not stretch her hands as though anticipating an 
 inevitable action. More important still, when the Duke 
 says to her unexpectedly: 
 
 Give me your hand, and say you will be mine, 
 
 it would be better, instead of smiling a gratified response, 
 to assume a sweet and timid doubt and dismay. This is. 
 true to the character Miss Neilson has all along presented. 
 One who has banished all idea of earthly bliss, who has. 
 already in heart put off the hope of earthly spousals, 
 will receive with surprise and misgiving the words that 
 first suggest a resumption of human ties. Should she] 
 even have learned to love the Duke, of which there is no- 
 sign, she will still retain her maiden gentleness and fears., 
 The reception of the performance was so warm as to indi- 
 cate that, whatever may be said against the character of 
 Isabella, its power to move an audience is not to be 
 doubted. In the third act the calls were enthusiastic and 
 repeated. At this stage, however, the acting of the heroine, 
 good throughout, attained its climax, and was admirably 
 fine and impressive. Mr. Conway's Lucio was a good 
 study. Mr. Howe played carefully the Duke, a character 
 concerning which Macready has left on record an opinion 
 that " dignity of demeanour and lofty declamation are the 
 chief requisites ". Mr. Harcourt was Angela, Mr. Warner 
 Claudio, and Mr. Buckstone Pompey. Nothing in the cast 
 calls for special comment. It is useless to draw attention 
 to the changes which experience has recommended. The 
 omission of the song in Mariana's house, " Take, O take 
 
114 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 those lips away," etc., is regrettable, while that of the 
 character of Juliet deprives Claudio of what little sympathy 
 might be accorded him. 
 
 April 22, 1876. THE alterations that have been made in " Queen Mary " 
 amount to something like reconstruction. More than half 
 the characters and nearly half the written dialogue dis- 
 appear from the acted version. Among the personages 
 omitted are not a few of highest importance. Cranmer, 
 indeed, of whom sight is lost, and to whom scarcely more 
 than a passing reference is made, is the most dramatic and 
 imposing figure in the original. Pole and Bonner on the 
 one hand, and Wyatt on the other, with Bagenhall and the 
 more sturdy and independent of the nobles, withdraw, in 
 the book, attention from the sufferings of Mary, and give 
 an English complexion to the story. They do more, in- 
 deed, than this, since Bonner's burning hatred of the 
 Reformers and the tergiversations of Pole, contrasting 
 with Philip's politic and wily courtesy, point a lesson con- 
 cerning the evils of sacerdotal rule which is the apparent 
 moral of the piece. Mary herself is not, from the psycho- 
 logical standpoint, more interesting than Pole, and Bagen- 
 hall is the sturdiest, most interesting, and most truly 
 English character in a work which, as is but natural, is 
 largely occupied with foreign schemers and compounded of 
 foreign intrigues. 
 
 With these characters disappears much that is best and 
 most striking in the poetry. Those descriptions of the 
 fate of Jane Grey, of the appearance of the pyres in Smith- 
 field, and of the reception of Mary by the citizens, which 
 are put into the mouth of Bagenhall, and constitute him a 
 species of chorus, are all withdrawn. Mary's address to 
 the child, which she is sanguine enough to believe has 
 stirred within her, is omitted for another reason. In place 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 115 
 
 of these scenes we have some that are new. The addi- 
 tions, with one exception ,are not too readily apparent. 
 The change in the last act is important, since its effect is 
 to retain the Queen upon the stage, and to present before 
 the audience the death which previously was learned from 
 Elizabeth. It is but natural, in the interests of dramatic 
 art, as it has been always understood in England, that 
 those sufferings which the Greek kept in the background 
 should be brought into prominence. It may be doubted, 
 however, whether the play gains much from the altera- 
 tion, and whether there is not more that is truly dramatic 
 in the manner in which, in the printed book, the life of 
 Mary is encompassed, and, as it were, framed in that of 
 Elizabeth. On the whole, the play, which has been hewn 
 out of the book, is shapely and interesting. It is im- 
 pressive, however, rather than dramatic, and it has scarcely 
 more claim to retain possession of the stage than the 
 chronicle plays of Shakspeare or than Marlowe's " Edward 
 the Second". 
 
 The entire frame of this new work is filled by Mary. 
 Philip, on the one side, serves to stimulate her passion 
 and feed her jealousy, and Elizabeth, on the other, by her 
 serenity, acts as a foil. No strong or genuine interest, 
 however, is inspired by any one except the Queen. A 
 measure of the responsibility of this rests upon the inter- 
 pretation, which, in the case of Mary, is decidedly strong. 
 The character of Philip offers but few opportunities, and 
 of these some are missed, while that of Elizabeth is lost in 
 the hands of the young actress to whom it is confided. 
 Mary, however, stands forth, in every respect except one, 
 as she is drawn by the Laureate. The hysterical exalta- 
 tion which is the keynote to her character is kept in the 
 background. Her strength and weakness are more heroic 
 than they previously appeared. A true daughter of Henry, 
 Mary is imperious in her treatment of those around her, 
 and brave to impetuosity in presence of danger. Her zeal 
 
Il6 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 in behalf of her religion is genuine, and is increased by her 
 sufferings. In the blank silence that meets her prayers 
 she finds rebuke for slackness of service, and her fanata- 
 cism feeds upon her tears. In this respect alone is the 
 hysterical temperament denoted. The appearance of 
 Philip changes her entire being. Mary might, indeed, ad- 
 dress him in the words of one of the old dramatists : 
 
 Thou art the powerful moon to my blood's sea, 
 To make it ebb and flow into my face 
 As thy looks change. 
 
 In his presence her whole nature is subverted. Like a 
 flower in the sunshine she opens her breast to him and 
 closes it so soon as he departs. But little, however, of 
 the pale sunshine of his presence does Philip afford, and 
 in the end Mary's defeat and desolation are complete. 
 The closing scenes are imaginative rather than dramatic. 
 There is some previous weakness in repetition of motive. 
 In the third and fourth acts the business is almost 
 identical. Mary vainly supplicates her husband to defer 
 his departure, and a few words from Simon Renard obtain 
 for her the boon she covets. The one dramatic action in 
 the closing scene is when Mary stabs, with nervous hands, 
 the picture of Philip, that it may not look upon her old, 
 worn, and graceless. Her walk outside her chamber is 
 natural and finely conceived from the poetical standpoint, 
 rather than the dramatic, though the hushed voices of the 
 women, who cluster together for protection, give it as much 
 strength as is attainable in the absence of the principal 
 figure. While Mary is before the audience, the emotions 
 appear too various and quick-coming. 
 
 One woe doth tread upon another's heels. 
 
 High dramatic effect is scarcely to be obtained under such 
 conditions. The burning intensity of sorrow is more 
 happily illustrated in Constance, when the Queen and the 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 117 
 
 woman are alike forgotten in the mother. Mary's dying 
 pangs would have been more impressive had her sorrows 
 been less fluctuant, and had she been bold in passion, and 
 so "forgotten " herself into the "-marble " of death. Miss 
 Bateman's acting in these scenes had remarkable intensity, 
 and was higher than anything she has previously exhibited. 
 Other characters were creditably supported. Mr. Brooke 
 played Simon Renard with much care and discretion, 
 avoiding the temptation to render it too vulpine, into which 
 a less intelligent actor might have fallen. Mr. Irving 
 looked splendidly princely as Philip, but had scarcely 
 divested himself of what is grotesque in his method. It 
 is doubtful, indeed, whether what is known as the 
 tragedian's walk and voice are necessary in the case of 
 Philip. No roundness of rhetorical delivery is called for. 
 A stern, impassive, and rather wearied look and bearing 
 are all that is needed. The few speeches to be delivered 
 are of small importance. 
 
 It is but natural that extreme interest should be in- 
 spired by an occasion like the present. Enough success 
 attended the experiment to encourage a* repetition. It 
 must always be remembered that complete success in 
 dramatic ventures waits upon experience. No special 
 triumph appears to have attended the first efforts of such 
 dramatists even as Shakspeare and Corneille. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Drury Lane : " Amleto ". Haymarket : " Medea,'' a tragedy 
 in four acts from the German of Grillparzer. Drury 
 Lane : " II Re Lear ". Haymarket : " Mary Stuart ". 
 Drury Lane : " Macbeth ". Queen's : " Othello ". Drury 
 Lane : " Romeo e Giulietta ". Haymarket : " LEtran- 
 gere," from the French of Alexandre Dumas. Lyceum: 
 "The Belle's Stratagem". 
 
 April 29, 1876. WHATEVER light foreign criticism may have cast upon 
 the character of Hamlet, foreign interpreters have done 
 little to change the opinions of Englishmen concerning it. 
 Whether the view of Hamlet which, in course of succeed- 
 ing generations, has come to be accepted and presented 
 by English actors is correct, is a point that is, of course, 
 open to question. It is at any rate superior in the esti- 
 mation of the English playgoer to everything that other 
 countries have shown him. Not few in number are the 
 foreign artists who have played Hamlet in England. 
 Within the last quarter of a century we have seen in 
 the part Devrient, Rouviere, Fechter, Mr. Bandmann, 
 Signor Salvini, and Signor Rossi. Of these one only ex- 
 cited much comment in England. Mr. Fechter's Hamlet 
 stirred to the depths public interest, and proved, indeed, 
 the first important step that was taken in this country in 
 the direction of that realism which since has laid siege to 
 our stage. It is not now the time to debate upon the 
 merits of actors whose claims have already been discussed. 
 Apropos, however, of the appearance of Signor Rossi, it 
 seems fitting to observe that southern actors have been 
 less successful than their northern rivals in presenting 
 
 (118) 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. Iig 
 
 the character of Hamlet. So essentially northern in con- 
 ception is " Hamlet," it may be doubted whether a true 
 notion of it can win its way into Spanish or Italian brains. 
 The meditative being, the dreamer, the man averse from 
 action, whose thought is ever miles in advance of his deed, 
 and not seldom so far in advance that " the flighty pur- 
 pose never is o'ertook," is remote from southern concep- 
 tion. Something more, then, than a dissimilarity between 
 two styles of acting is felt to exist when the Italian actor, 
 Signer Salvini first, and Signor Rossi afterwards, exhibits 
 Hamlet as indulging in vivacious and spirited, or even 
 violent action. Doubts and hesitancies concerning the 
 " finer issues" to which Hamlet is touched meet us at 
 every turn. With them, however, does not come any 
 doubt as to the gravity and staidness of his manners, and 
 his incapacity for such outbursts as Italian artists love to 
 exhibit. It is difficult from the strange representation of 
 Signor Rossi, heaped with extravagances of gesture and 
 speech, to extract a recognisable theory of the character 
 of Hamlet. We are thus compelled to deal with externals 
 in the same manner as we can only judge of the appear- 
 ance of those with whom we have no intimacy. 
 
 Signor Rossi's performance shows him to be a trained 
 and accomplished actor, with a wide range of powers. It 
 shows him also to have a theory of Hamlet which to Eng- 
 lishmen is wholly unintelligible. When Hamlet is seen in 
 one act to clap his hands in ecstasy over the success of his 
 scheme to entrap the King, when, seated on the throne, 
 he spins about with arms and legs all in the air at the 
 same time, or when, in the interview with his mother, he 
 snatches from her with rough hands the portrait of her 
 husband, and, with cries and gesticulations of rage, throws 
 it upon the ground and stamps and dances upon it, the 
 whole is, to northern feeling, undignified, excessive, and 
 almost unmanly. No amount of talent in the exponent 
 will ever reconcile an English or, we fancy, a German 
 
I2O DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 audience to extravagances of this kind. It has been sug- 
 gested that these are the results of the madness which, 
 according to one view of Hamlet, seizes upon him at the 
 time of the ghostly appearance. In order to render more 
 tenable this view, those passages in which Hamlet ad- 
 dresses with apparent irreverence the Ghost 
 
 Well said, old mole, canst work i' the earth so fast ? 
 A worthy pioneer ! etc. 
 
 need to be restored to the acting text, since they seem to 
 contain the first working of that "antic disposition" 
 which, moved by some feeling of mental perturbation, or 
 by some vague foreshadowing of the future, Hamlet de- 
 clares his intention to don. 
 
 Madness, however, in northern natures, supposing 
 Hamlet to be realty mad, would scarcely take such forms 
 as are now assigned it. It requires the sanguine current 
 in southern veins to beget this species of frenzy. Every 
 word Hamlet speaks shows how grave is his natural 
 temperament, and a very slight ebullition will serve to in- 
 dicate mental aberration. In the scene after the de- 
 parture, in confusion, of the King, whom the sight of the 
 acted murder has discomfited, Hamlet reaches the highest 
 point of exaltation of which his nature is capable. This, 
 however, is not very extravagant, as a reference to his 
 words will prove. From the standpoint of general inter- 
 pretation, there is little, then, to be learned from a per- 
 formance which throughout is excessive, and to English 
 feelings not far from grotesque. Readings of single pas- 
 sages are more frequently curious than commendable. 
 Hamlet thus, in speaking to Guildenstern, says : " There 
 is much music, excellent voice in this little organ, yet 
 cannot you make it speak". Instead of representing, 
 as is customary, the recorder as the little organ, Signer 
 Rossi slaps his chest, as though it were his own voice to 
 which reference was made. A more defensible innovation 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 121 
 
 occurs earlier, when, at the close of the long speech of the 
 player King, Polonius utters the remark : " Look, whether 
 he has not turned his colour, and has tears in 's eyes," of 
 Hamlet, and not of the actor. This, however, though in- 
 genious, is incorrect. The words of Polonius are intended 
 to prepare the mind of the spectator for the speech 
 
 O what a rogue and peasant slave am I, 
 
 in which Hamlet contrasts his own stolid endurance of 
 unheard-of wrongs with the actor's passion over the 
 fictitious sorrows of Hecuba. The rendering of this 
 speech is the best portion of Signer Rossi's performance. 
 
 THE piece in which Madame Janauschek makes her first May 6, 1876. 
 appearance in London is a version of Grillparzer's " Das 
 Goldene Fliess". So incompetent is, however, the trans- 
 lation, the English spectator is likely to be unjust to a 
 play which has won a firm hold upon the German public. 
 Produced in Vienna in 1822, before many Englishmen 
 had heard that " unpronounceable name " of Grillparzer, 
 with which Byron declared they would one day or 
 other have to grow familiar, the " Golden Fleece," ob- 
 tained a triumph due rather to the reputation of its 
 author's previous plays, "Sappho" and "Die Ahnfrau," 
 than to its intrinsic merits. It was then a species of 
 trilogy, and made free use of the personages of Greek 
 mythology. Subsequently it underwent numerous muta- 
 tions, becoming, in the end, a stock piece upon the 
 German stage. In its present shape it gives a clear and 
 comprehensible view of the life of Medea in Corinth. 
 The action commences with the divorce between Jason 
 and Medea, and the betrothal of the former to Creusa, 
 the daughter of Creon, his host. A special mandate from 
 Delphi commands the banishment of Medea and Jason 
 on account of the iniquities and sorceries perpetrated 
 
122 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 during the quest and capture of the Golden Fleece. Half 
 this injunction is obeyed, and half disregarded. Medea 
 is banished, and Jason is retained. Vainly Medea appeals 
 to Creon against the manifest injustice of this sentence 
 vainly urges upon Jason his past love and her former 
 services. Finding hopeless the attempt to rekindle burnt- 
 out fires, and determined that no woman shall enjoy the 
 love she has tasted and lost, Medea feigns acquiescence 
 in the arrangements that are made. She then sends 
 Creusa the poisoned robe, which, when worn, shall break 
 into flames and consume her, and slays the children who 
 are deaf to her pleading and prefer openly comfort and 
 repose with strangers to a life of wandering and peril with 
 their sad and terrible mother. At the close, Medea is 
 seen sublime in triumph, invulnerable to human effort, 
 and on the point of taking an unopposed departure for 
 Athens. 
 
 A condemnation of the play involves the condemnation 
 of the subject, since it is scarcely possible to present more 
 intelligibly the events connected with Medea's stay in 
 Corinth. The principal points in which the piece differs 
 from that of Euripides consist in the decree of banish- 
 ment issuing from Delphi, instead of from Creon himself, 
 in the omission of the character of yEgeus, and in the 
 loss and recovery by Medea of a casket containing her 
 enchanted treasures, including the Golden Fleece. While, 
 however, the main action is clear and simple, the lan- 
 guage in the English version is trivial and commonplace 
 to such an extent that it is difficult at times to resist an 
 inclination to laughter. A company unused to pieces of 
 this class supported feebly the principal characters, and 
 the entire representation challenged the ridicule it not 
 seldom elicited. Over all these difficulties the genius of 
 Madame Janauschek triumphed. Putting altogether on 
 one side the more tender aspects of Medea's character 
 presented by Euripides, Madame Janauschek showed her 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 123 
 
 a passionate barbarian, whose nature could receive no 
 polish from intercourse with the Greeks. But one idea 
 could she entertain : Jason was hers, and rather than 
 another should possess his love and enjoy his companion- 
 ship she would upset the framework of the world. There 
 was little need to emphasise her grief by the desertion of 
 her children. Her jealousy needed no stimulus beyond 
 the knowledge that Creusa was in Jason's arms. In this 
 respect she came near the character of Othello. This 
 conception of Medea, against which nothing of impor- 
 tance can be urged, received powerful portrayal. Madame 
 Janauschek's acting is stagey in the sense that it aims at 
 the picturesque as much as the dramatic. It is, however, 
 superb in energy of defiance and in the uncontrolled 
 freedom of movement that seems to belong to a wild 
 animal. Her look has "the roused bull's glare," and 
 fierce hunger for the love denied her burns in her eye. 
 It remains to be seen whether the actress can present 
 more subtle moods of pathos and suffering. Her forte 
 appears, so far, to be the passionate rather than the 
 pathetic. The lurid splendour of her performance was 
 recognised by the public, and her representation was a 
 conspicuous success. 
 
 SIGNOR Rossi's successive performances reveal two May 13, 1876. 
 facts : the first, that he is one of the most accomplished 
 actors that have of late years appeared before the public ; 
 the second, that it is useless to expect from him any fresh 
 light upon the creations of Shakspeare. So far, indeed, 
 foreign art has done as little as foreign criticism to furnish 
 the student with new views concerning the masterpieces 
 of Shakspearian tragedy. Signer Salvini's Othello proved 
 that southern theories concerning acting might, in the 
 case of a character essentially southern, bring to light 
 aspects which had previously been unobserved or unex- 
 
124 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 pressed. Here ends the gain our stage has seen. The 
 Hamlet of Signor Salvini, and the Hamlet and the Lear 
 of Signor Rossi, so far from possessing any gift of illumi- 
 nation, scarcely reveal the germ of what can be called an 
 idea of the characters. Such intellectual subtleties as 
 have exercised the wits of English critics have not even 
 presented themselves, and the artist who has come over to 
 enact these parts is surprised to hear of their existence. 
 Taking up the theory that Lear is a study of madness 
 commencing to declare itself when the King yields his 
 dominions to his children, attaining its height at the 
 moment when he stands upon the heath, amid the ele- 
 mental confusion, and passing away with passing life, 
 Signor Rossi has presented this view again and again 
 before admiring audiences in Italy and France. Quite 
 dumbfoundered is he to learn that something more is ex- 
 pected in England. We who have accustomed ourselves 
 to find in every word of Lear some touching revelation of 
 character and suffering, are not prepared to accept a re- 
 presentation in which breadth of view alone is aimed at, 
 and all subtle gradations of shade are swallowed up in 
 masses of colour. Like Signor Salvini, Signor Rossi has 
 not only never seen those patient analyses of character 
 which English criticism has framed ; he has never, it is 
 obvious, studied in Shakspeare the personages he presents. 
 A slovenly, feeble, inaccurate, and misleading version of a 
 portion of a play has supplied him with the outlines of an 
 individuality which he presents, but which is as unlike the 
 creation of Shakspeare as the yEneas of Cotton or of 
 Scarron is to that of Virgil. 
 
 Thus, though the powers of the actor are remarkable, 
 and are such as especially commend themselves to the 
 more highly-trained portion of his audience, the result to 
 the student, at least, is blank disappointment. In place of 
 the hearty, impetuous, rash, and choleric King, impatient 
 of contradiction, pitiless in his revenge upon slight wrong, 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 12$ 
 
 and yet burning with a desire to be loved by all around 
 him, we find at the outset a capricious and half-irre- 
 sponsible being, whose uncertain walk and impatient 
 movements tell of fading intellect. This misapprehension 
 continues, and is accentuated until, at the end, when we 
 wait to see the bowed and whitened head sink to the 
 ground in desolation and heart-break, we find in its place 
 a study of the physical agonies of dissolution. There is. 
 scarcely a glimpse of that dignity which is a principal 
 characteristic of Lear, and which makes him even in the 
 very whirlwind of his madness recollect his state, and 
 enjoy the consternation of those who dare not face his, 
 frown. 
 
 Ay, every inch a King : 
 When I do stare, see how the subject quakes. 
 
 It has, with some show of reason, been doubted whether 
 Lear is a fit subject for histrionic illustration. Shak- 
 speare, however, who intended the character for the stage,, 
 was a tolerable judge in such matters, and the avowal 
 that no actor can greatly impress us in Lear involves only 
 a condemnation of the state of our stage. There is much 
 of Lear that is easier to present than corresponding por- 
 tions of Othello, Hamlet, or Macbeth, though it may be 
 admitted that the talent which would give adequate expo- 
 sition to the entire character is not easy to find. 
 
 A single instance of the kind of errors which constantly 
 occur in the Italian version will serve to show how dif- 
 ficult it is to deduce from it a rational conception of Lear. 
 Small as appears the change, which consists only in the 
 omission of a preposition, its effect is completely mislead- 
 ing. From the moment Lear sees Edgar on the heath 
 disguised as Tom, he conceives a remarkable regard for 
 him. Vainly Gloucester seeks to lure the King to shelter.. 
 He says : 
 
 First let me talk with this philosopher. 
 What is the cause of thunder ? 
 
126 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 And again : 
 
 I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban. 
 
 When, accordingly, Gloucester bids Edgar go into the 
 hovel : 
 
 In, fellow, there, into the hovel : keep thee warm 
 
 Lear follows him, saying : 
 
 Come, let's in all. 
 
 These last words are translated into Italian, " Zitti 
 andiamo tutti " " Let us all go ". Acting on this, Signor 
 Rossi, instead of attempting feebly to follow Edgar, turns 
 in the very direction in which Gloucester strives vainly to 
 entice him. Quite useless is it to multiply instances of 
 faults of omission and commission. From the Shak- 
 spearian standpoint, Signor Rossi's Lear is an admirable 
 piece of acting, informed by no soul. 
 
 MADAME JANAUSCHEK'S performance of Mary Stuart 
 exhibits the extent and the limits of her powers. She is 
 an actress of highest mark. In the supreme and seldom- 
 scaled heights of her art, she stands above all living rivals. 
 Her acting is, however, intense rather than sympathetic, 
 and it impresses where it seeks to win. She has little 
 pathos and some mannerism. Most of the highest gifts 
 of the actress are, however, hers, including the power of 
 animating with human passion the merest outline of a 
 character that is supplied her. This faculty is exhibited 
 in a slight after-piece, in which she has appeared, the ob- 
 ject of which is to show how many varieties of expression 
 the actress can force into the two words " Come here ". 
 The "Mary Stuart" in which Madame Janauschek ap- 
 peared is an American rendering of the French version of 
 Schiller, in which Rachel made, in Liege, her first appear- 
 ance in the character. It preserves the scene of the 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 127 
 
 meeting of the Queens, probably the most dramatic situa- 
 tion in Schiller. Madame Janauschek's demonstration of 
 concealed envy and reserved force in this scene are beyond 
 praise : the final outbreak is magnificent. It is a dis- 
 couraging reflection that acting so unrivalled as this has 
 been exhibited in London with so conspicuous a want of 
 success, that the actress has not even been able to play 
 for the short period of twelve nights originally assigned 
 her. Yet, if ever redemption from the vulgarities of 
 modern taste is to reach us, it should be by means of some 
 such artist as we now send away with the reputation of 
 failure. Not large is the supply of such, however, and so 
 costly a luxury as rejecting a Janauschek cannot be ob- 
 tained every year. 
 
 SIGNOR Rossi's Macbeth is a broader as well as a more May 20, 1876. 
 elaborate performance than his Lear. In all respects 
 except one it conveys the conception of the character 
 now prevalent. Macbeth is the sport of supernatural 
 agencies. To the support and encouragement afforded 
 him by the witches he is indebted for his capacity to 
 shape and carry out the schemes which end in his exalta- 
 tion. The price demanded for the service rendered is his 
 soul the customary fee for similar aid. None the less 
 clear and evident is the transaction that the terms are 
 not stated, and no formal compact is made. When Mac- 
 beth seeks a second time the witches, he is as completely 
 the slave of the infernal powers as Faustus, who by solemn 
 ceremonies has conjured the fiend into his presence, and 
 demanded of him the gifts man ordinarily covets. There 
 seems, however, to be a pre-existent knowledge on the 
 part of the supernatural beings in whose behalf it avails to 
 
 raise such artificial sprites 
 As by the strength of their illusion 
 Shall draw him on to his confusion. 
 
128 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 These "supernatural solicitings " are not intended for 
 Banquo, in whom they raise no mad ambitions. They 
 are thus, in one respect, a creation of the mind of Mac- 
 beth. Given, -as existent somewhere in the world, the 
 witches, their appearance and their active discharge of 
 their functions are contingent upon the discovery of 
 human baseness sufficient to set them in motion. They 
 are, in fact, the machine to which human passion supplies 
 the motive force. Unless an actor were capable of 
 charging a nod with all the significance supposed to be 
 possessed by that of Lord Burleigh, it would be too- 
 much to expect of him that he should exhibit such growth 
 of ambition in the mind of Macbeth as revealed to the 
 weird sisters his fitness for the purposes they had con- 
 tinually in view. Signer Rossi, however, indicates more 
 clearly than any previous actor that absorption of mind 
 which comes of the conviction that you are under demo- 
 niac influences. His look is that of one under a spell: 
 of glamour which weighs upon him, and can only be 
 momentarily dispelled by violent action, ordinarily of a. 
 kind likely to produce a return of the fit under aggra- 
 vated conditions. This, so far as it goes, is excellent.. 
 Instead of leading, however, to the defeat and desolation 
 which come of the conviction that, at a sacrifice of highest 
 interests, a purchase has been made of a mere show of 
 empire, it serves as a stimulus to Macbeth in the later 
 scenes. His fight with Macduff has the recklessness and 
 desperation that come of mental hopelessness and physical 
 defeat. During the early scenes, however, the bearing of 
 Macbeth is haughty and defiant, and there are few traces 
 of such moral and intellectual collapse as are exhibited in 
 the lines commencing 
 
 Out, out, brief candle ! 
 
 and in other passages. The performance is, however, the 
 most interesting and suggestive Signor Rossi has yet 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. I2Q 
 
 The Lady Macbeth of Signora Pareti was commendable in 
 the early acts, but disappointing in the sleep-walking 
 scene. 
 
 SIGNOR SALVINI has reappeared in London in the cha- June 3, 1876. 
 racter in which he first obtained the suffrages of the 
 English public. His Othello retains its old virtues and 
 defects. It still borders upon extravagance in the details 
 of certain scenes, and remains in the last act daringly 
 defiant of Shakspeare's avowed intention. Its old empire 
 over the emotions is also maintained, and it rests one of 
 the broadest, most finished, and most powerful impersona- 
 tions the stage has ever seen. The reason, we are told, 
 why Signor Salvini presents Othello as cutting his throat 
 in the last act, instead of stabbing himself, as the text 
 directs, is because Moors wear none except curved weapons, 
 and are more given to cut than to smite. In a modern 
 piece, in which local colour is all important, attention to 
 detail would be laudable. In the case of Shakspeare, 
 however, such improvements are worse than needless 
 they are annoying. Shakspeare's Moor, it should be 
 observed, is a renegade, fighting against the armies of 
 the Believers. If strict attention were paid to accuracy 
 of detail, he should wear the dress of a Venetian general, 
 and should carry no trace of Moorish appearance. For 
 the sake of picturesqueness, and also to single out the 
 Moor from his surroundings, he is presented as wearing 
 Eastern dress. In Venetian garments he would only 
 look like a swarthy Italian. The attempt to improve 
 upon Shakspeare's intention is one which, under what- 
 ever guise it may present itself, or from whatever source 
 it may come, Englishmen must resent. The innovation 
 made in the scene by Signor Salvini constitutes a blot 
 upon an otherwise magnificent performance. 
 
 9 
 
130 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 SIGNOR Rossi's successive performances reveal no new 
 phase of talent, and strengthen the impression at first 
 produced, that he is great as an executant rather than 
 as an interpreter. It is not easy by any single word or 
 short phrase even to indicate the chief defect in his 
 acting. Just, however, as a brilliant vocalist, with mag- 
 nificent voice and powers of execution that laugh at 
 difficulties, may sing a well-known air without conveying 
 the sentiment of the composer, so an actor may give us 
 a specimen, fine in itself, of a certain order of histrionic 
 abilities, without realising the characters he essays. This 
 is precisely what Signor Rossi does. His Romeo is a 
 marvellously fine piece of acting ; and some of its touches 
 are absolutely superb. It is, however, pervaded and 
 animated by no great conception that the audience is 
 able to grasp. When Romeo first sees Juliet, and is 
 conquered and spell-bound by her beauty ; when, to use 
 a hackneyed comparison, like the needle turning to the 
 pole, his gaze 
 
 Trembles and trembles into certainty ; 
 
 when, so absorbed as to be practically irresponsible for 
 his actions, he receives her low obeisance without rea- 
 lising that he is called upon to acknowledge it ; and when, 
 watching her departure, he stands like one in whom 
 sudden shock has arrested the springs of life, conception, 
 and execution, are alike perfect, and Romeo stands 
 before us. When, however, obedient to stage directions, 
 he kisses her fully on the mouth, he has gained assurance, 
 and is no longer the timid and reverential, if passionate 
 lover, but a gay and venturesome gallant. When leaving 
 Juliet's presence the true Romeo again presents himself, 
 not, however, to reappear. Not Romeo was that ardent 
 cavalier who, beneath his mistress's balcony, and in the 
 liquid moonlight, kissed the scarf she let down to him, 
 as though, like the hair of Rapunzel, its flimsy folds could 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 131 
 
 prove a ladder for his feet. Why not ? it may be asked. 
 The action is natural, as it may be. His mistress's scarf, 
 her glove, the flower from her bosom, the ribbon from her 
 hair, the very stone her foot has pressed, a lover will 
 fondle and caress. Romeo in Signer Rossi's hands is, 
 however, too self-possessedly certain. He is not under 
 the spell of that rapture of new life which comes to youth 
 with the first knowledge that it is loved. He kisses with 
 assurance, he is rhetorical in speech, and his passion only 
 manifests its excess by discounting, as it were, in imagi- 
 nation, the happiness in store. Lacking these qualities 
 of juvenility and timorousness which conflict with passion, 
 the balcony scenes lose their poetry. From this moment 
 until the closing action Romeo remained rhetorical. There 
 was no despairing self-communion upon his receipt of the 
 news of Juliet's death. The description of the apothecary 
 was spoken to an audience supposed to be interested in 
 particulars which were confided to it. The one fine point 
 obtained resulted from a violation, not to be too harshly 
 judged, of Shakspeare's text. Garrick's version of " Romeo 
 and Juliet " which would have held longer its position 
 as the acting version, but for the fact that the play has 
 always, during late years, been produced by women, to- 
 whom the alterations it makes bring no advantage, and 
 who, consequently, earn cheaply the reputation of re- 
 storing an original text was performed. In this, Juliet 
 awakes before Romeo is dead. While, accordingly, Romeo 
 is yielding to the effect of the poison, Juliet, half uncon- 
 sciously, steps from the tomb, and, calling faintly on 
 Father Laurence and her husband, walks into the church- 
 yard. Slowly Romeo then pulls himself to the tomb, 
 intending to die beside his love. He finds it empty. 
 Dazed and bewildered he turns his head and sees Juliet, 
 in her grave-clothes, stealing through the grounds. His 
 consternation is appalling. Mastering by one supreme 
 effort the tortures that rend him, he approaches with awe 
 
132 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 what he believes the wraith of his mistress, until sight, 
 hearing, and other senses are convinced it is she herself, 
 when he strains her in a rapturous embrace, from which 
 he drops back dead. The manner in which the stage is 
 rilled by this picture of Romeo's dismay and consterna- 
 tion shows how profound a mastery of art Signer Rossi 
 possesses. In case of an effect so tremendous it seems 
 almost unworthy to point out that this one supreme effect 
 is obtained by the presentation of a character that is not 
 Romeo, in a scene that is not Shakspeare. 
 
 me 17, 1876. THE failure of " L'Etrangere " at the Haymarket 
 seems to dispose of the question whether the kind of 
 comedy which meets with warmest acceptance in France 
 is suited to English tastes. As the latest and most char- 
 acteristic work of the leader of the new school of French 
 dramatic fiction, " L'Etrangere " is a representative play. 
 It exhibits, moreover, in a high degree those qualities 
 which distinguish the school of to-day from that of yester- 
 day. The social problem it illustrates is treated with a 
 frankness and sincerity almost brutal ; the vices, real or 
 supposed, of society are laid bare with a scientific com- 
 posure worthy of Balzac ; and the strange moral it en- 
 forces is urged with a relentlessness and an energy which 
 recall John Knox, fulminating against Court follies and 
 Court intrigues. No attempt is made to preserve the 
 brilliancy of dialogue which has been an aim of dramatists 
 since the days of Moliere in France and of Congreve in 
 England. Dramatic incisiveness is sought rather than 
 dramatic sparkle, and a. finesse in speech is cultivated such 
 as can only succeed when delivered by actors capable of 
 seizing upon every hint of the author, to a public on the 
 watch for obscure allusion and remote illustration. 
 Against work of this class, every form of English con- 
 viction and prejudice stands arrayed. The world 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 133 
 
 / 
 
 " L'Etrangere " depicts is, to the English playgoer, as 
 imaginary as any Arcadia or Utopia poet or statesman 
 has feigned ; the motives to action seem less inadequate 
 than unreal, the dramatic situations are inconceivable, 
 and the moral teaching is strained and perverse. Add to 
 this that our actors are accustomed to broad effects, and 
 know little of the nuances upon which the success of French 
 comedy depends, and that our audiences prefer in dialogue 
 the broad-sword, or even the quarter-staff, to the rapier, 
 and it will be seen that an adaptation like that of 
 " L'Etrangere " is heavily handicapped. The progress 
 of the piece accordingly elicited constant signs of dis- 
 satisfaction, and the close brought with it a weight of 
 condemnation rarely witnessed in late years. 
 
 As an element in the significance of this verdict, it 
 must be remembered that the play is mounted with the 
 taste that has placed the Haymarket under the present 
 management in the front rank of London theatres, and 
 is acted by a company which is second to none. 
 
 The apparent aim of " L'Etrangere " is to show the 
 evil of those manages de convenance which prevail in 
 France and are not unknown in this country. This well- 
 worn moral is, however, enforced by means of a story 
 which repels at every step. That English society might 
 furnish scandals as grave as those M. Dumas depicts is 
 probable enough. The mistake M. Dumas makes is to 
 present the exceptional as the common. No social 
 lesson can possibly be taught by a single instance of a 
 crime not likely to be repeated. A story such as that of 
 Beatrice Cenci is available for the dramatist who en- 
 deavours to depict tragic situation, and may be of some 
 value to the moralist who strives to show the possible 
 developments of human wickedness. It is valueless, 
 however, for the purpose of social lessons, and he who 
 seeks to warn men against a repetition of the offence is 
 about as wise as the man who strives to vend in London 
 
134 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 streets medicines against the plague, or remedies against 
 snake-bites. 
 
 We see in " L'Etrangere " a husband compelling his 
 wife to receive a stranger whom he seeks to make his 
 mistress ; a woman of unknown antecedents winning her 
 way by payment into the salons of one of the leaders of 
 French aristocracy; a duchess returning the visit of a 
 stranger whose acquaintance is gravely compromising, 
 and then accepting from her a challenge to fight a outrance 
 for the possession of a youth who is a pretendant to one 
 and an object of envy to the other. In its course a wife 
 avows to her husband her hatred for him and her love 
 for another ; the husband retorts by endeavouring to fix 
 upon the wife the responsibility of an offence of which he 
 knows her to be innocent. He then, while plotting the 
 death of his rival in a duel, seeks to be provided with 
 double chances of vengeance, and make his possible 
 death as certain a source of danger and trouble to his 
 wife as his victory. Not one spark of honesty or decency 
 is there to be found in the play, not one respectable emo- 
 tion or natural instinct is aroused. A father sells his 
 daughter, the price being a title. So soon, however, as 
 the transaction is accomplished, he turns upon his son-in- 
 law, and becomes the second of his adversary in a duel to 
 the death. 
 
 A scientific physician advocates views upon marriage 
 that may some day find acceptance, but for which the 
 world is as yet unprepared ; the Duke behaves to his wife 
 like a scoundrel, the Duchess preserves her honour at the 
 sacrifice of her modesty. Wherever we turn all is arid. 
 The very springs of nature are dried up, and the world is 
 a desert without a single oasis. These faults might be 
 pardoned if the result obtained were in any strong sense 
 dramatic. There is, however, no such lesson upon the 
 results of unbridled power as gives intensity to " Le Roi 
 s'Amuse," no such conflict of passion as purifies and ele- 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 135 
 
 vates " Marion Delorme ". Explanations are prolonged 
 until they become wearisome, action is frittered away 
 until, as in the case of a river flowing to the sea through 
 various channels, all sense of grandeur or dignity, or even 
 of size, is lost. When at length, after many delays, some 
 dramatic heat is engendered, it is at once dissipated. The 
 revenge of the American, who, in a fit of virtuous indigna- 
 tion, insists upon fighting himself a man who seeks him 
 as a second, provides a denoument which is at once ex- 
 travagant and conventional, extravagant in the particulars 
 but conventional au fond. The effect upon the audience 
 of the famous speech to the Duchess, telling her the 
 issue of the encounter with her husband " You are a 
 widow" (Vous etes veuve), was to produce a shock uncom- 
 fortable or ridiculous, according to the feelings of the 
 individual. 
 
 Grave as are the defects of the piece, it is none the 
 less a fair specimen of the class to which it belongs. Its 
 dialogue in the original has a crispness and subtlety which 
 English words fail to convey, and which go far towards 
 redeeming the unpleasantness of the story. Its extrava- 
 gances, moreover, are generic rather than individual. Its 
 fate in England even might have been different, had the 
 public been more familiar with the kind of investigation it 
 pursues, and had the actors been more capable of giving 
 effect to the language. Unfortunately for its chances, the 
 kind of acting it demands in the female characters is exactly 
 that Englishwomen cannot supply. Miss Hodson, as the 
 Duchess, and Miss Barry, as the American, did their best, 
 but failed to present that mixture of refinement and inso- 
 lence which both characters exact. Miss Hodson, moreover, 
 miscalculated the powers of her voice, and strained it to 
 a point at which it passed altogether out of her control. 
 It is cruel, indeed, to call upon actresses who are 
 admirable in one line to take up another which is wholly 
 outside their powers. Mr. Vezin gave an excellent 
 
136 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 interpretation of the Duke. It had none of the sliminess 
 which a less competent artist might import, as typical of low 
 moral sense, but was dignified throughout. Accustomed 
 to subserviency quand meme, and satiated with homage, 
 the Duke avows frankly the delinquencies he has ceased 
 to regard as such, and does not for one moment conceive 
 himself open to the charges which the American brings 
 against him. Mr. Vezin's disguise was admirable, his 
 conception was the highest that could be taken, and his 
 rendering of it was faultless. Mr. Conway sustained 
 thoroughly the small part of the lover. Mr. Harcourt 
 was the American. Other parts were so antipathetic to 
 the audience, that it is doubtful if any acting could have 
 rendered them acceptable. 
 
 AMONG the comedies of a past age which, occasionally 
 revived, serve to remind us how far we have fallen from 
 the times of Gentleman Lewis or of Charles Kemble, is 
 the "Belle's Stratagem" of Mrs. Cowley. It is a clever, 
 busy, and entertaining play, and reflects no small credit 
 upon the bright little Devonshire lady, who in middle life 
 developed an unsuspected and unmistakable capacity for 
 dramatic work. While laughing at the raptures of con- 
 temporary criticism, which declared the heroine so mar- 
 vellous a character that "were Venus and Minerva to 
 make a descent to the earth, their united powers would be 
 requisite to its perfect exhibition," we must admit that 
 Letitia is a thoroughly natural and attractive personage, 
 who maintains a strong hold on our sympathies through 
 a series of amusing if not too probable adventures. There 
 is genuine spirit in the conduct of the intrigue, and more 
 than one of the male characters, Doricourt especially, is 
 lifelike and natural. 
 
 A performance of the comedy can accordingly be wit- 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 137 
 
 nessed with pleasure. During recent days the " Belle's Strata- 
 gem" has been rarely seen in London, the revival at the 
 St. James's, by Miss Herbert, nine years ago, when Mr. 
 Irving made his debut in the part of Doricourt, being the 
 only representation a playgoer of moderate experience can 
 recall. It has now, in an abridged version, with the 
 excision of the intrigue of Courtall and Kitty Willis, the 
 latter of whom entirely disappears, and the omission of 
 other characters, including the French valet, originally 
 played by Wewitzer, been produced at the Lyceum. The 
 experiment can scarcely be called successful. Miss Isabel 
 Bateman's Letitia Hardy has some gaiety and archness, 
 but the performance wants distinction. It is told of Miss 
 Younge, the original Letitia, in the Preface to the printed 
 play, that she was always too much agitated to repress 
 her tears in the last scene, in which she takes off her 
 mask, and discovers herself to the husband she has plotted 
 so ingeniously to secure. The situation thus obtained is, 
 indeed, so striking, it seldom fails to elicit a warm burst 
 of applause from the audience. This was not wanting on 
 the present occasion. Throughout, indeed, the perform- 
 ance proved sympathetic to an audience which has lost 
 all remembrance of acting in high comedy. Miss Isabel 
 Bateman's impersonation was the only thing in the per- 
 formance calling for notice. Miss Lucy Buckstone gave 
 a pleasant picture of Lady Frances, reduced in the present 
 version to a nonentity. Miss Virginia Francis, as Mrs. 
 Racket, and Mr. Carton, as Villiers, steered clear of vul- 
 garity or extravagance. The other characters, from the 
 leading personages downwards, were caricatures. Mr. 
 Irving has gone grievously astray since he first appeared 
 as Doricourt, and won the unanimous approval of the 
 press and the public. Gradually, as he has played parts 
 such as Mathias, in the " Bells," the intensity of which 
 prevails through its extravagance, he has acquired 
 mannerisms which now eat him up. So far from 
 
138 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 resembling a beau of the last century, his Doricourt 
 scarcely remains within the framework of comedy. In 
 appearance and walk it is less Doricourt than Pangloss. 
 The walk is stiff, strained, and impossible. Two or three 
 steps, a halt, and a run, succeed each other, the whole 
 effect being that of a man who, so to speak, stammers in 
 his gait. 
 
 In the conception of the character of Letitia Hardy, 
 Mrs. Cowley appears to have been indebted to the "Fausse 
 Agnes " of Destouches, who, in order to avoid a marriage 
 with a country pedant, adopts a stratagem similar to that 
 which furnishes its name to the English comedy. The 
 " Fausse Agnes " contains also a scene of counterfeit 
 insanity akin to that of Doricourt. In the French, how- 
 ever, it is the heroine and not the hero who shams mad- 
 ness. It is scarcely likely that Mrs. Cowley was ac- 
 quainted with Destouches, and it is more probable she 
 took the idea of her heroine from the "Citizen" of Arthur 
 Murphy, a dull and vulgar imitation of an excellent 
 comedy. It is curious, as showing how few genuinely 
 original characters serve for dramatic purposes, and how 
 small is the stock-in-trade of the dramatist, that Angelique, 
 the "Fausse Agnes" of Destouches, is herself an imitation 
 of Agathe in the " Folies Amoureuses" of Regnard. From 
 what Spanish or Italian source Regnard drew the concep- 
 tion remains to be discovered. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 St. James's: " Les Danicheff par Pierre Newski". Hay- 
 market : " Dan' I Druce, Blacksmith," by W. Gilbert. 
 Queen's: "King Henry the Fifth". Drury Lane: 
 King Richard the Third" altered from Shakspeare by 
 Colley Cubber. 
 
 THE success of "Les Danicheff," in France first, and June 24, 1876. 
 now in England, shows that what prejudice exists in both 
 countries against pieces in which the plot is hampered by 
 details of life and customs in remote or half-civilised regions 
 is due rather to the clumsy workmanship of those who have 
 dealt with such subjects than to the subjects themselves. 
 Unlike those dramas illustrative of Russian life, which, 
 since the success of " Elizabeth; or, the Exiles of Siberia," 
 have appeared upon the stage, " Les Danicheff" is sincere 
 in workmanship, free from over-sentimentality, and free 
 also from that exhibition of one-sided sympathy to be 
 expected in plays in which class is arrayed against class. 
 Its plot describes the difficulties of a Russian nobleman, 
 seeking to marry one of his serfs, and finding in his mother 
 an unscrupulous adversary, who, during his absence, does 
 not hesitate by the power the law assigns her to compel 
 the girl on whom his choice has fallen to wed a man in 
 her own station. That the lovers are in the end united 
 is due to the self-abnegation of the serf thus uncere- 
 moniously married. Though loving the girl with all his 
 soul, the husband respects her sorrow, abandons all claim 
 to her possession, consents to a divorce, and, when such 
 relief is shown to be impossible by ordinary means, takes 
 upon himself monastic vows, accepting thus a distasteful 
 
 (139) 
 
140 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 profession and a life of celibacy in order that the woman 
 he loves and has espoused may become the wife of another. 
 Such devotion, it may be urged, is impossible. It is at 
 least certain that the pleasure of the spectator is marred 
 by the fact that the one thoroughly noble and disinterested 
 being in the play is condemned to defeat and despair. A 
 powerful and, in the main, sympathetic story is, however,, 
 obtained with due regard to the relation of noble and serf, 
 and no such avoidance of the difficulty is encountered as 
 disfigures Mr. Taylor's drama, " The Serf," in which the 
 supposed victim of aristocratic cruelty and aggression is in 
 the end shown to be no slave, but a young nobleman, 
 stolen in infancy, and brought up in ignorance of his 
 origin. The picture of Russian life the piece affords adds 
 greatly to its interest ; and the view of the interior of a 
 chateau, with the Countess surrounded by her dependants 
 and parasites, is as faithful as a Teniers, and as finished 
 as a Meissonier. 
 
 There is dramatic power in the play, and some of the 
 situations are both novel and impressive. It is, however, 
 an element of weakness that the first act is the best, that 
 some of the business which follows is conventional, and 
 that the delay in the divorce, which adds a fourth act, 
 though it augments the interest felt in the serf-husband, 
 and, by revealing an operation of Russian law unknown to 
 most inhabitants of Western Europe, furnishes an unex- 
 pected denoument, is really an unnecessary prolongation of 
 the story and postponement of an end seen to be inevitable. 
 To these observations upon the play, which do not pretend 
 to amount to a full estimate of its merits and its defects, 
 may be added that portions of the dialogue, which has 
 been polished by M. Dumas, are in the best style of that 
 master of dramatic epigram, and that there is an absence 
 of baseness of motive, as of " unblest " speculation, which, 
 in the case of a piece with the hall-mark of French manu- 
 facture still warm, is sufficiently noteworthy. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 141 
 
 Whatever may be the opinion concerning the piece now 
 transferred from the boards of the Odeon to those of the 
 St. James's, there can scarcely be two opinions as to the 
 acting of the company which, for the first time, in something 
 like its integrity, visits England. No man like the one or 
 two leading artists of the Comedie Francaise may be found 
 in the company at the second Theatre Franais. Scarcely 
 inferior to that of the Comedie is, however, the standard 
 of the Odeon, and the representations it gives are worthy 
 of the highest consideration of lovers of art. In Mdlle. 
 Helene Petit it has an artist whose one fault a slight 
 inaccuracy or imperfection in the delivery of French, 
 which care and study have almost removed is scarcely 
 perceptible to English ears ; and in M. Marais, a youth 
 who carried off the prizes of comedy and tragedy at a late 
 concours of the Conservatoire, it possesses a jeune premier 
 full of fougue and passion. The scenes between these 
 artists were admirably played, and the outburst by Mdlle. 
 Petit, upon receiving the order to marry her fellow-servant, 
 was one of the most harrowing expressions of grief ever 
 heard upon the stage. Madame Fargueil, who enacted the 
 Dowager Countess for the first time, is an incomparable 
 artist, and her presentation of aristocratic reserve and her 
 repression of feeling were perfect. MM. Porel, Masset, 
 and Montbars, and Mdlle. Antonine showed themselves 
 up to the level of their reputations, and acted with 
 admirable conscientiousness and success. Each picture, 
 indeed, was alike fine. More noticeable, however, than 
 the beauty of separate impersonations was the ensemble. 
 The entire action had unsurpassable ease. The effect 
 upon the spectator unaccustomed to such exhibitions even 
 in those London theatres in which a conscientious effort 
 is made after this form of excellence is to leave an impres- 
 sion that it is necessary to witness from time to time 
 some representation of the kind, not only to keep up the 
 standard of acting in the mind, but to vindicate the claim 
 of acting to rank as art. 
 
142 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 n. 16,1874. IT scarcely detracts from Mr. Gilbert's claim to 
 originality, to assert that his drama of " Dan'l Druce, 
 Blacksmith, "recalls many previous works. If originality is 
 only to be accorded those who are altogether independent 
 of their predecessors, it must be denied a host of writers, 
 commencing with Boccaccio, and including Shakspeare, 
 Moliere, and Goethe. It has been maintained that 
 a story belongs rather to the man who turns it to best 
 account, than to him who first employs it ; and it is cer- 
 tainly a defensible assertion that those dramatists who 
 have taken most from other sources have done the best 
 work. Invention itself is as rare a gift as dramatic per- 
 ception, and the two are seldom found in conjunction. 
 The dramatist, then, with whom invention is not super- 
 abundant, may do well to draw upon accumulated stores 
 of intrigue and incident, instead of cudgelling his brains to 
 produce new combinations. A rather strange medley of 
 works is suggested by the new drama. The leading idea, 
 that of masculine hard-heartedness subjugated by infantine 
 innocence or virginal purity, animates a score of works 
 between the "Ursule Mirouet" of Balzac and Bret Harte's 
 "Luck of Roaring Camp". "Timon of Athens" suggests 
 the opening situation ; that which follows is taken from 
 "Silas Marner"; while the antagonism of classes, the 
 seduction by a man of position and fashion of the wife of 
 a blacksmith, have been anticipated in " Used Up ". 
 Besides these resemblances, and others which are more 
 remote, there is a certain measure of that form of plagiarism 
 most pardonable in an author imitation of his own 
 previous works. Dorothy, Mr. Gilbert's youthful and very 
 attractive heroine, has some likeness to those types of 
 superhuman innocence and purity he has drawn from fairy 
 legend. 
 
 So purely domestic is the interest of the play, there is 
 no obvious reason for giving it the historical background 
 Mr. Gilbert has assigned it. A certain appearance of in- 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 143 
 
 sincerity must always attend effort to reproduce the life of 
 past ages. Mr. Gilbert is too thorough an artist to fall 
 into the mistake of attempting to restore the exact phrase- 
 ology of our ancestors. A certain kind of instinct appears, 
 to guide all writers who have obtained success in the 
 attempt to deal with the life of past epochs. Influenced 
 by this, they give a conventional tone of antiquity rather 
 than a reproduction. This is altogether in accordance 
 with the precedent of the stage, whereon all things have 
 to be judged from a standard impossible in real life ; and 
 calculations have to be based upon the supposition that an 
 action will be seen framed as in a picture. The characters 
 accordingly talk so as to be completely intelligible to 
 modern ears, while an antiquated air is still communicated 
 to their speech. In one case only does Mr. Gilbert attempt 
 an absolute imitation of the language of the seventeenth 
 century. In Reuben Haines, a Cavalier sergeant, it is 
 sought to exhibit a type of the swash-buckler, roistering, 
 licentious, pragmatical, full of airs, and ever ready with a 
 quip. The language used by this character has thus a. 
 stamp of antiquity not elsewhere to be found. 
 
 The story leans to situations which, in spite of art 
 appearance of strength, cannot be said to possess any 
 true dramatic grip. The chief grace of the play is in one 
 or two very tender and idyllic passages of love-making 
 introduced into the second act. What interest attends, 
 the later scenes makes strong demands upon the readiness, 
 of the spectator to be deceived^ seeing that a misunder- 
 standing between the lovers, which forms the basis, could 
 not in the world of absolute fact have remained a moment 
 without explanation. The same charge may be advanced 
 against some of the greatest plays the world has seen. By 
 the exercise of a very small amount of common-sense^ 
 Othello would have broken through the flimsy, if fatal, 
 web in which lago had wrapped him. In " Dan'l Druce" 
 Mr. Gilbert has attempted a more elaborate study of 
 
144 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 human nature than he has previously essayed. Soured 
 by the loss of his wife and child, the former of whom has 
 eloped with an aristocratic lover, the blacksmith, under 
 an assumed name, has gone to reside in a lonely and wind- 
 rocked cabin on the Norfolk coast. Here he has hardened 
 into a species of miser. Not wholly debased is his nature. 
 He loves his gold as though it were the work of his hands, 
 and, like a second Pygmalion, wishes that his statue would 
 start into life. His desire, absurd as it seems, is answered. 
 A Cavalier officer, hard pressed in his attempt to escape 
 from the result of Worcester's fight, takes his gold, and 
 leaves him a child three years of age. Accepting a boon 
 which he rightly judges heaven-sent, Druce rears the little 
 stranger, and loves her as his own flesh and blood. He 
 is of course tortured by the fear that she may be reclaimed. 
 She is faithful to him, however, and is in the end proved 
 to be his own child, the offspring of the wife who had 
 quitted his roof. With the development of this character- 
 Mr. Gilbert has taken much pains. The change of nature 
 produced by the presence of the girl is carefully depicted, 
 until we see the hard heart completely subjugated by the 
 gentle hand. Some such ascendency of childhood over 
 the manhood which prepares its way is indicated in " Mac- 
 beth," where the appearance of the armed head is followed 
 by that of the child an apparition which the first witch 
 pronounces " more potent than the first". Full justice 
 was done to this conception by Mr. Vezin, who acted with 
 much earnestness and passion, and in the scenes in which 
 he defended his treasure produced a powerful effect 
 upon the audience. The love-scenes of the second act 
 were finely presented by Miss Marion Terry and Mr. 
 Forbes Robertson. Miss Terry's quietude of manner, 
 and her apparent insensibility to the significance of 
 the rough wooing of the Cavalier soldier, Haines, were 
 excellent. Mr. Odell has a strong sense of burlesque 
 humour, but carries his impersonations into caricature. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 145 
 
 His acting in Reuben Haines was equally droll and ex- 
 travagant. 
 
 " Dan'l Druce" obtained a favourable reception. It 
 adds nothing to Mr. Gilbert's intellectual stature ; but it is 
 different from anything he has done, and it is not unworthy 
 of his reputation. 
 
 FEW of the historical plays of Shakspeare have been so Sept. 23, 1876. 
 seldom seen on the stage as " Henry the Fifth ". To its 
 failure to secure a hold upon the public may be attributed 
 the facts that it has been the subject of more experiments 
 than any other Shakspearian drama, and has a history so 
 curious as to be worth recalling. Betterton produced, in 
 1664, at Lincoln's Inn Fields the " Henry the Fifth " of 
 the Earl of Orrery, a piece differing in many respects 
 from that of Shakspeare, and played in it Owen Glen- 
 dower. Garrick, in 1747, gave Shakspeare's play, and, 
 resigning to Barry the part of Henry, contented himself 
 with that of the Chorus. Kemble, in 1789, enacted 
 Henry, and was succeeded in it, in 1819, by Macready. 
 In 1830, " Henry the Fifth" was chosen for what proved to 
 be the last attempt of Edmund Kean to present a Shak- 
 spearian character. He failed utterly, broke down, and 
 apologised to the audience for his inadequacy. Mr. Phelps 
 included " Henry the Fifth " in the noteworthy series of 
 revivals which distinguished his management of Sadler's 
 Wells. Treading in his father's footsteps, Charles Kean gave, 
 in 1859, at tne Princess's, " Henry the Fifth" as his last 
 Shakspearian production. The chief novelty consisted in 
 converting the Chorus into a woman, and assigning the 
 character to Mrs. Kean. Now at last, when the piece is again 
 revived, a fresh experiment is made, and Mr. Phelps, instead 
 of playing Henry the Fifth, appears as Henry the Fourth 
 in a portion of the " Second Part of Henry the Fourth," 
 which, in the shape of a Prologue, is united to the play. 
 
 10 
 
146 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 It is hopeless to fight the battle of fidelity to the text 
 of Shakspeare. Colley Gibber's " Richard the Third " has 
 driven the original play out of the field. Managers will 
 tell you, in answer to remonstrance, that, while a fair 
 chance of success attends a production of Gibber's version, 
 the play as Shakspeare wrote it has never, since the 
 Restoration, proved other than a failure. At present, 
 accordingly, those who wish to see Shakspeare on the 
 stage must resign themselves to take what they can get, 
 a lesson the less difficult as there are no actors fit to 
 speak the words of Shakspeare were they in every case 
 restored. Against the proceeding adopted by Mr. Cole- 
 man, however, a protest may be lodged upon the ground 
 of expediency as well as that of justice to an author. 
 From the latter point of view, it is treating a dramatist 
 but scurvily to assume that what he intended for the 
 climax of one play can be converted into the opening 
 scenes of another ; from the former, a mistake is made in 
 commencing with elaborate scenes of decay and death a 
 drama the whole spirit of which is action. It is doubtful 
 even whether the advantage of including Mr. Phelps in 
 the cast will compensate for the feeling of weariness and 
 depression that is stirred by the funereal gloom of the 
 opening situations. 
 
 Against the pageantry introduced, little can be urged 
 under existing conditions. In the historical plays it is easy 
 and pardonable to assist the spectator by presenting him 
 with a species of panorama of the events which furnish a 
 background to the action. That Shakspeare would have 
 accepted a certain measure of scenic display as an aid ap- 
 pears from his Prologue, wherein he asks the spectators to 
 
 Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts ; 
 
 Into a thousand parts divide one man, 
 
 And make imaginary puissance : 
 
 Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them 
 
 Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 147 
 
 So far, then, as it is good and some of it is good the 
 pageantry introduced into the play is pardonable. The 
 ballets even, which provoked a storm of disapproval, 
 might be justified from the standpoint now accepted with 
 regard to Shakspearian representations. To receive with 
 a masque Henry the Fifth returning with his French bride 
 from his marriage in Troyes is a notion that Shakspeare 
 himself would not have scouted, and to give an emble- 
 matical ballet in the presence of Charles the Sixth is an 
 idea not so especially ridiculous as to merit the stern and 
 almost savage condemnation it received. These views 
 must be taken as applicable only to the existing condition 
 of affairs. If we had actors capable of giving with perfect 
 delivery and fitting accompaniment of action the speeches 
 Shakspeare has written, and a public willing to accept an 
 entertainment of the class thus formed, we should be 
 sticklers for it. In the absence of both we take what we 
 can get, so long as it is moderately good in its class. The 
 outcry about burying Shakspeare beneath upholstery has 
 not much meaning. If we had actors who could render 
 the great Shakspearian creations, they would not be 
 buried. It is the dimensions of the men, not those of the 
 ornamentation, that are responsible for the feeling evoked. 
 In France the Government accords certain theatres a 
 subvention, on the express condition that it shall play a 
 certain number of pieces belonging to the classic drama. 
 Without such aid, the French public would see little of 
 Moliere, and less of Racine and Corneille. In place of 
 such assistance, English managers have turned to spec- 
 tacular effects, and out of the taste of the public for 
 display have gained money that enables them to keep 
 Shakspeare, in a fashion, on the stage. The question, 
 whether it is worth while to present him at all in the 
 manner in which he is now seen, remains in abeyance. 
 No purpose is answered by describing at length the 
 manner in which the play has beeri broken to pieces and 
 
148 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 reshaped. Some of the alterations are absurd enough ; 
 in favour of others something might perhaps be advanced. 
 To the majority of the audience the play is wholly 
 spectacle, and Shakspeare's words might almost be 
 regarded as a species of incidental music. Much of the 
 spectacle is good, though the brightness of the dresses 
 and the armour destroys the vraisemblance, and leaves 
 the impression that we are contemplating a waxwork 
 exhibition arranged so as to present an imitation of action. 
 In very few of the characters was there anything to call 
 for favourable comment. In the part of the boy who 
 waits upon Bardolph and his associates, Miss Kate Phil- 
 lips was excellent. Miss Fowler exhibited, as Katharine 
 of Valois, a mixture of coquetry and timidity, which was 
 thoroughly natural and appropriate. Mr. Phelps gave the 
 dying speeches of Henry the Fourth in his usual manner. 
 It is a difficult task for an artist, however competent, to 
 obtain strong effects when he is perpetually recumbent, 
 and has always to speak with the voice of a moribund. 
 It is different when the decline is gradual, and weakness 
 in the last scenes can be contrasted with comparative 
 strength in those which precede. Mr. Coleman, who 
 played Henry the Fifth, was wrong in his method. His 
 lightness was too debonair, and his changes of voice and 
 action were too frequent and too marked. Mr. Ryder 
 doubled the part of Sir William Gascoyne in the Prologue, 
 and Williams in the play, and spoke with a clearness of 
 utterance the younger actors might do well to copy. In 
 the subordinate parts, the incapacity to deliver a line of 
 blank verse, usually displayed on similar occasions, was 
 painfully obvious. Miss Leighton, as the Prologue, spoke 
 with clearness and effect, but was unnecessarily vehement. 
 A lighter and less tragic tone would have been more 
 effective. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 149 
 
 OF the numerous alterations or imitations of Shak- Sept. 30, 1876. 
 speare by Davenant, Dryden, Gibber, Garrick, and meaner 
 writers, one alone has retained possession of the stage. 
 This, however, has enjoyed a fortune so exceptional, it 
 has all but driven from the field the work on which it is 
 founded. When, at Covent Garden in 1821, Macready 
 produced the "Richard the Third" of Shakspeare, that 
 play was for the first time since the Restoration set before 
 the public. Betterton, after his wont, ignored Shakspeare, 
 and when he appeared as Richard did so in a rhymed 
 play called " The English Princess," the author of which, 
 Caryl, was secretary to Mary, wife of James the Second, 
 during her residence abroad, and was better known in 
 letters in consequence of having furnished Pope with the 
 idea of " The Rape of the Lock ". Garrick, not too cor- 
 rectly announced as " A Gentleman whenever appeared 
 on any Stage," made, in 1741, at the theatre in Good- 
 man's Fields, his first essay in London in the part of 
 Richard the Third. The play in which he appeared was 
 Colley Gibber's adaptation. Half-a-century later another 
 actor of reputation, G. F. Cooke, made his debut in the 
 same character. In this part, first played by Gibber 
 himself, Ryan, Quin, Barry, Smith, Henderson, Kemble, 
 and Pope were seen in turns, and in it Kean electrified 
 the public. So firm was its hold and so strong the belief 
 in its superiority to Shakspeare, that Charles Kean, with 
 many apologies, selected it, in 1854, for production at the 
 Princess's. Fortune or popular favour was, indeed, on 
 its side. Macready's revival at Covent Garden of Shak- 
 speare was a failure, the piece being withdrawn after two 
 representations. The success obtained by Mr. Phelps at 
 Sadler's Wells was not able to turn the tide of public 
 opinion, and w^hen, in the present year, " Richard the 
 Third " is revived as the opening attraction of Drury 
 Lane, the version given is that of Gibber. 
 
 Quite time is it this state of affairs should come to an 
 
150 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 end. Neither in dramatic value, in appropriateness, in 
 sequence, nor in any dramatic or poetical quality what- 
 ever, can Gibber's play compete with Shakspeare's. It 
 is, indeed, a species of dramatic hodge-podge, containing 
 scenes and passages from " Richard the Second," " Henry 
 the Fourth," Part II., " Henry the Fifth," and all three 
 parts of " Henry the Sixth," arranged with little regard 
 to character, and supplemented by verses of Gibber's 
 own. Its popularity is chiefly ascribable to the familiarity 
 of the public with certain lines, such as " Off with his 
 head. So much for Buckingham ! " and " Conscience, 
 avaunt ! Richard's himself again," with the value of 
 which actors are profoundly impressed. Until recent 
 years brought with them a study of Shakspeare closer 
 and more reverential than had previously been attempted, 
 these and other lines passed with ninety-nine readers out 
 of a hundred for Shakspeare's. Against the credit, what- 
 ever that may be, to which Gibber is entitled for their 
 authorship, may be placed the fact that he disfigured 
 Shakspeare's text with such passages as Gloucester's 
 address to Buckingham a propos to the contemplated 
 murder of the children : 
 
 I tell thee, Cuz, I've lately had two spiders 
 
 Crawling upon my startled hopes 
 
 Now, tho' thy friendly hand has brushed 'em from me. 
 
 Yet still they crawl offensive to my eyes ; 
 
 I wou'd have some kind friend to tread upon 'em. 
 
 Or his instructions to Tyrrel after the murder is accom- 
 plished : 
 
 I have it I'll have 'em sure get me a coffin 
 
 Full of holes ; let 'em both be crammed into it ; 
 
 And, hark thee, in the night tide throw 'em down 
 
 The Thames once in, they'll find their way to the bottom. 
 
 It may, perhaps, be urged that, so long as the present 
 condition of affairs exists, so long as the resources of our 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 151 
 
 stage remain what they now are, and so long as the his- 
 torical plays are mere backgrounds for pageantry, Gibber's 
 version may as well be employed as Shakspeare's. In 
 this there is some show of reason. While, however, no 
 attempt is made to give Shakspeare, no improvement can 
 be hoped either from the spread of intelligence among 
 actors or the zeal of those whom the maltreatment of 
 Shakspeare offends. From any tragic standpoint Gibber's 
 " Richard " is absurd, if not absolutely contemptible. The 
 manner in which the murders are crowded into so brief 
 a space of time ends by creating amusement. Richard is 
 a monster of villainy, whose actions illustrate no conceiv- 
 able state of mind. It may be advanced by the defenders 
 of Gibber, if such exist, that the introduction of the 
 murder of Henry the Sixth is more than compensated for 
 by the omission of those of Clarence, Hastings, and other 
 victims of Richard's policy. This, however, is not quite 
 true. Henry is murdered by Richard with his own hands, 
 and the spectacle of the violent action causes a far 
 stronger effect than that of the results of his sanguinary 
 policy when others are the agents. At the close of 
 " Henry the Sixth," Richard's deed furnishes a termina- 
 tion to the play, and supplies a lurid portent of the coming 
 horrors of his own reign. Where now placed, its effect is 
 little short of fatal. It is, at least, certain that the audi- 
 ence grew at last to treat the play as a burlesque, and 
 greeted each successive atrocity of Richard with a laugh. 
 An actor such as Kean might, by his power, conquer all 
 feeling of this kind. Such actors, however, are not now 
 to be had. Those to whom the principal parts are now 
 assigned are painstaking and earnest. Here praise must 
 stop. Mrs. Vezin displays genuine power as Queen Eliza- 
 beth, and Mr. Cathcart, who plays Henry the Sixth, shows 
 that he has studied in a good school. In the other char- 
 acters we find a style of acting which has nothing in 
 common with the views of art now commencing to prevail. 
 
152 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Mr. Sullivan has formed a conception of the character 
 very like that of Cooke as we read of it in Leigh Hunt, 
 and accentuates the banter of Richard until we fancy the 
 man gloating in the enjoyment of his own hypocrisy. 
 Here is a view of the character, and, as Gibber has 
 depicted it, as defensible a view as another. Points that 
 display thought and reading, moreover, are not wanting. 
 The execution, however, has a violence that can never 
 be intense, and the performance throughout of all the 
 characters misses the true tragic note. 
 
 The spectacular portion of the entertainment is ex- 
 cellent. In addition to the clever pictures Mr. Beverly 
 has painted of Bosworth Field, the Tower, Old St. Paul's, 
 and other spots, we are presented with heraldic devices 
 and emblazonments, armour, primitive weapons, and other 
 like details, all of which have obviously been produced 
 under careful supervision. No drama of the class has 
 recently been mounted at Drury Lane with so much taste 
 and correctness. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Princess's: " Jane Shore," a drama in five acts, by W. G. 
 Wills. Prince of W ales' s: "Peril,'" a comedy, by Bolton 
 Rowe and Saville Rowe. Court: "Brothers,'" a 
 comedy in three acts, by Charles Coghlan. Drury Lane : 
 " Macbeth". Court: Revival of "New Men and Old 
 Acres," by Tom Taylor and A. W. Dubourg. Lyceum : 
 Revival of "Macbeth". Lyceum: "King Richard the 
 Third". Olympic: Revival of Lovell's "A Wife's 
 Secret". Prince of W ales' s " The Vicarage," a fireside 
 story, by Saville Rowe. Olympic : " The Scuttled Ship" 
 a drama in a prologue and five acts, by Charles Reade. 
 Criterion : " The Pink Dominos," a comedy in three acts, 
 by James Albery. St. James s : "A New Way to Pay 
 Old Debts," by Massinger. Aquarium; "The Incon- 
 stant," altered from Farquhar by F. A. Marshall. 
 
 As presented to the public in Rowe's famous tragedy, Oct. 7, 1876. 
 the sorrows of Jane Shore have drawn tears from suc- 
 cessive generations of playgoers. Garrick, both the 
 Kembles, Young, and Kean have played Hastings, to 
 whose unbridled passion Rowe has chosen to attribute 
 Jane's sufferings, while a score of actresses, at the head 
 of whom stand Mrs. Oldfield, Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Glover, 
 and Miss O'Neill, have in turns presented the victim of 
 royal favour. Before Rowe had treated the subject, 
 Chettle had written a play, entitled " Jane Shore," now 
 lost, which was acted in 1602, and to which some allusions 
 are still found in our older drama, and Heywood had 
 constituted Jane the heroine of the First and Second 
 Parts of " King Edward the Fourth," which is described 
 
 (153) 
 
154 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 in the title-page as containing : " His merie pastime with 
 the Tanner of Tamworth, as also his loue to faire Mis- 
 tresse Shore, her great promotion, fall, and miserie ; and, 
 lastly, the lamentable death of both her and her husband". 
 Rowe's play is fairly touching, the action being arranged 
 so as to avoid the wearisomeness begotten of Jane's 
 prolonged sufferings, and the meek and patient character 
 of the heroine being well contrasted with the passion and 
 jealousy of Alicia, whose treachery to Jane, formerly her 
 friend, brings about the catastrophe. In the Preface, 
 Rowe speaks of Shakspeare's " rough majestic art," and 
 asserts that in the composition of his own play he had 
 
 the mighty bard in view ; 
 
 And in these scenes has made it more his care 
 To rouse the passions than to charm the ear. 
 
 Rowe's success in this praiseworthy, if ambitious, 
 effort has been mediocre. His play owed some of the 
 fame with w r hich it was accredited to its moral, which is 
 sternly enforced. The last words spoken by Bellmour, 
 one of the characters, are : 
 
 Let those, who viewed this sad example, know, 
 That Fate attends the broken Marriage- Vow, 
 And teach their children in succeeding Times, 
 No common Vengeance waits upon these Crimes ; 
 When such severe Repentance could not save 
 From Want, from Shame, and an untimely Grave. 
 
 Mr. Wills's play has a higher aim, and exhibits a more 
 dramatic conception, than that of either of his predeces- 
 sors. Seeking to present a picture analogous in its way 
 to that of " Charles the First," and to illustrate the muta- 
 bility of fortune, Mr. Wills has presented Jane at the 
 pinnacle of greatness, with a haughty nobility on the one 
 hand, supplicating her smiles and assistance, and a crowd 
 of poor pensioners on the other, craving and receiving her 
 bounty. He has then shown her defeat and downfall. In 
 the hour of her triumph the signs of the future are legible. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 155 
 
 Over Jane's shoulder grimaces the ill-omened visage of 
 Gloster, and the young sons of Edward, prompted by him, 
 ask her questions which make her blood curdle beneath her 
 gay vestments. After the death of the King, all, down to the 
 very beggars who have lived upon her alms, desert her, 
 and she seeks vainly a shelter in her husband's house. 
 Driven thence she has an interview with Gloster, who 
 strives to make her his agent in his designs upon the 
 royal princes then in the Tower. Upon her refusal, he 
 taxes her with sorcery in having withered his arm, and 
 causes her to be driven forth to starve. In these scenes 
 Rowe's tragedy, which adhered, it may be supposed, to 
 tradition, runs parallel with the new play. In her despair, 
 Jane is aided by one Grist, a baker, and a neighbour of 
 her husband, who gives her food in spite of royal procla- 
 mations. In a fight which ensues between the citizens 
 and the troops of Richard, Shore, whom Jane's penitence 
 has subdued, carries her off to his own house, to recom- 
 mence the peaceful life the violent passion of Edward had 
 rudely and tyrannically interrupted. 
 
 This story is told in language much of which is nervous 
 and poetical. What is dramatic in Mr. Wills's play per- 
 tains, however, to conception rather than execution. The 
 peaceful termination is a regrettable concession to public 
 taste. What is most prejudicial to the worth of the whole 
 is that the action throughout is too perpetually gloomy. 
 From the moment when, in the first act, Jane sinks before 
 the wrath of the Queen, she is always prone or on her 
 knees. Mr. Wills's predecessors steered clear of this 
 difficulty by introducing a larger measure of extraneous 
 action, historical or fictitious. One powerful and finely 
 conceived scene, in Mr. Wilis's third act, shows Jane 
 returning the curses of Queen Elizabeth with sympathy 
 and pity. In the midst of her own anguish she can find 
 room for sorrow over the mother as yet in ignorance her 
 children are slain. This fine scene is very imperfectly 
 
156 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 rendered. Mr. Wills, indeed, has been unfortunate in the 
 exponents of his play. Miss Heath, who plays the heroine, 
 is affected and stagey to a degree fatal to any possibility 
 of interest. Her expression of grief, monotonous at first, 
 grew irritating before the close, and moved a portion of 
 the audience to frequent outbursts of derision. None of 
 the players can be said to have grasped the characters 
 they personate, and more than one turned the part he 
 played into absolute caricature. That a favourable ver- 
 dict was loudly recorded is principally attributable to the 
 strength of one or two situations, and notably to that of 
 the scene in Cheapside, in which Jane's wants are relieved 
 by the charitable baker. 
 
 IT is difficult to avoid a feeling of regret at seeing the 
 Prince of Wales's Theatre, the last home of English 
 comedy, following the example of other houses, and 
 turning for its novelty to the French stage. Regret in 
 this case involves no suspicion of censure. 
 
 Quand on n'a pas ce qu'on aime 
 II faut aimer ce qu'on a 
 
 is a maxim mankind is forced to accept. Since the death 
 of T. W. Robertson, what successes the management of 
 the Prince of Wales's has known have been obtained by 
 revivals of standard plays, or by a departure from what 
 has been considered the special province of the theatre. 
 Another Robertson does not arise, and the hope of obtain- 
 ing comedies of home growth, suited to the requirements 
 of the theatre, is constantly baulked. Under such circum- 
 stances, to have refrained from gathering the dramatic 
 fruit within reach would have been less virtue than 
 Quixotism. The piece with which the first plunge is- 
 made is one of the most familiar of modern French 
 comedies. Three successive companies have given it in 
 French, and three English versions have in turns appealed 
 to the public. At first sight, " Nos Intimes " would seem 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 157 
 
 one of the most intractable of Parisian plays. The 
 characters it develops are thoroughly French ; the in- 
 trigue, in its nature and in its surroundings, is of a kind 
 which has never been acceptable upon the English stage, 
 and the principal situation is one of the most audacious 
 that has ever been depicted, and has the added dis- 
 advantage of forming so distinct an anti-climax that all 
 that comes after it is meaningless and excessive. In spite 
 of these faults, the play in all three versions has been 
 successful, a fact that speaks for its possession of some 
 powerful and sympathetic qualities. 
 
 The latest adaptation is fairly skilful and happy. The 
 best feature in it is the manner in which English equiva- 
 lents have been found for the French eccentrics who form 
 a background to the play, and the happiness of some of 
 the new dialogue. It cannot be said that the crucial 
 difficulty of the story is overcome. In its English dress, 
 this portion of the play seems more difficult of acceptance 
 than in the original. French dramatists treat adultery 
 with a light hand. So long as a woman is saved from 
 immersion it matters little how thin is the ice across 
 which she skates. In England it is different. A more 
 serious tone is necessarily taken in treating it, and the 
 offence becomes, in fact, graver as we grow increasingly 
 conscious of its gravity. A thoughtless and indiscreet 
 woman might say without a blush and without marked 
 offence things which, delivered by a more discreet 
 character and accompanied by signs of self-consciousness, 
 would move strong condemnation. The enhanced effect 
 of which we speak is expressed, moreover, by the manner 
 of the actress as well as by the words of the author. 
 Melting with love and all but yielding to temptation, 
 Mdlle. Caussade, in the hands of Madame Fargueil, 
 the first and incomparably the greatest exponent of the 
 part, bends over her young lover until her cheek brushes 
 his sleeve, and his warm breath is felt upon her. Then, 
 
158 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 with impetuous recoil, she springs back, aware of the 
 precipice on the brink of which she stands, and bids 
 him leave her in accents in which command still wars 
 with entreaty. There is danger in every movement, 
 and every change of aspect brings a new phase of peril. 
 She loves him, as she too well knows, and she has 
 no safeguard except honour, the frailty of which, when 
 unsupported, she feels. In the English play, and with 
 the English action, the case is different. Lady Ormond 
 loves her husband and has an Englishwoman's horror 
 of doing anything that shall compromise her fair fame. 
 No influence of passion can deaden her to the call of 
 duty or of respectability. Unthinkingly she lets go her 
 hold upon the safeguards which surround her virtue and 
 her reputation, until, horrified, she finds she is gravely 
 compromised, and is in absolute danger. She has, how- 
 ever, fear of violence alone. No traitorous impulse from 
 within moves her to listen to her lover's appeals. She 
 does not love him the more for the violence he attempts. 
 Her dream, on the contrary, is over, and she experiences 
 for him a repulsion and a hatred she is at no pains to 
 conceal. Such a woman in such a situation is, accord- 
 ingly, far more culpable than the Frenchwoman, and our 
 sympathy with her is proportionately decreased. Miss 
 Robertson, who shows in the part an amount of feeling 
 she has not previously evinced, marked cleverly the 
 various aspects of the character. Not insensible was she, 
 and there was a longing tenderness, a desire to press to 
 her the bright young head of her lover that was very 
 effective. The scene between her and Mr. Sugden was 
 well given, the young actor contriving, while preserving 
 the demeanour of an Englishman, to reveal some genuine 
 heat. Mr. Bancroft as Sir George Onnond, the husband 
 of the heroine, still further accentuated the impression 
 to which reference has been made. He delivered the 
 speeches concerning unfaithfulness with an amount of 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 159 
 
 pathos that rendered them impressive, and that showed 
 how serious is, in his estimation, an offence such as, 
 unknown to him, his wife has committed. In other parts 
 less connected with the main plot, the acting was good. 
 Mr. Cecil's Sir Woodbine Grafton was a wonderfully minute 
 study of eccentricity. It is one of the disadvantages of 
 adaptations, that they influence acting. The verdict, for 
 instance, upon a performance like that of Miss Robertson 
 is different from what it would have been had she had no 
 predecessor in the part she played. 
 
 THE two experiments Mr. Coghlan has made in Nov. 11,1876. 
 dramatic fiction display that fatal facility which seems all 
 but destructive of good work. " Brothers," with which 
 the Court has now reopened, is a stronger, and in that 
 sense maturer, play than its predecessor upon the same 
 stage. Like " Lady Flora," it is built upon the lines first 
 laid down by T. W. Robertson ; it has, like it, a smart- 
 ness of dialogue not seldom purchased at the sacrifice of 
 dramatic propriety, and, like it also, it introduces a variety 
 of characters, no one of whom is wholly sympathetic 
 or altogether natural. Still it is a bright, clever, and 
 ingenious piece, which, but for an absurdly tangled and 
 impossible last act, would probably win a lasting hold 
 upon the public. Recollections of previous writers are 
 impressed upon us during its performance. These are not 
 strong enough to suggest absolute indebtedness, and the 
 play, but for the distinct intention to copy the Robertsonian 
 method, might rank as original. Its theme, the rivalry 
 between two brothers, has furnished the motive of 
 numerous plays, in addition to Young's tragedy and 
 Cumberland's comedy, both with the same name, the most 
 noteworthy of them being " The Elder Brother " of Beau- 
 mont and Fletcher, and the " Inconstant Lady " of Arthur 
 Wilson, a drama supposed to have perished in the con- 
 
l6o DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 flagration caused by Warburton's cook, but subsequently 
 presented to the Bodleian. The treatment is, however, 
 altogether new and striking. Of the characters, one, 
 Capt. Davenport, seems to owe something to Thackeray's 
 Dobbin, while a mysterious personage, constantly heard of 
 and never seen, acts a part in the play analogous to that 
 of Madame Benoiton in M. Sardou's well-known comedy. 
 The same kind of half-imitation hangs about the dialogue. 
 Thus, " A woman without love is a plant without a 
 flower," a sentence spoken by one of the characters, is 
 not unlike Heine's " A woman without religion is a flower 
 without perfume ". On the strength of resemblances 
 which may be, and probably are, accidental, we do not 
 seek to impugn Mr. Coghlan's originality. Unfortunately 
 there is too much to condemn in the treatment to drive 
 the critic most bent upon censure to such charges as 
 plagiarism. The prime defect in " Brothers " is, that the 
 characters, almost without exception, are unsympathetic ; 
 a second defect is that the last act of the play is 
 wearisome and preposterous. Two brothers, one of 
 whom is ungrateful, vindictive, and unprincipled, and the 
 second haughty and cold-blooded ; a girl who has been 
 brought up in garrison, and has flirted with and jilted 
 a respectable contingent of the Indian army ; a father who 
 .seeks, with shameless effrontery, to sell his daughter for 
 money, and who breaks off in an instant, upon a suspicion 
 of mistake as to the amount of money in question, a match 
 he has diligently prosecuted ; an old officer, who persecutes 
 the heroine with his attentions, and contrives by innuendo 
 to drive away her lovers when there is too immediate a 
 prospect of their developing into husbands ; and a woman 
 who, while a visitor in her nephew's house, speaks no 
 word that is not intended as an insult to that nephew's 
 guests these are the personages in whose proceedings 
 Mr. Coghlan seeks to interest. Not unsuccessful, more- 
 over, is his attempt. So ingeniously constructed is the 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. l6l 
 
 problem he places before us, we are compelled to busy our- 
 selves with its solution. If, in the end, we give it up, it 
 is because the author has been beforehand with us, and 
 has himself left it practically incomplete. 
 
 It is useless to develop at length the treatment Mr. 
 Coghlan has accorded the dramatic fable he has selected. 
 In a conflict between two brothers, one of whom is cold- 
 blooded and selfish, and the other hot-blooded and selfish, 
 the former wins, for the apparent reason that he is a 
 gentleman, while his rival is not. The prize for which 
 both contend is, however, of little value. A young lady, 
 who has been betrothed to each officer in turn in a march- 
 ing regiment, who accepts the advances of a man not 
 known to her even by name, and who again and again 
 visits him in his studio, is, as the gentleman thus favoured 
 unkindly and ungallantly reminds her, of no special value 
 in the matrimonial market. Some strange spell of fascina- 
 tion seems, however, to cling to her, since she receives, in 
 the house of her future husband, two consecutive proposals 
 of marriage from those who have come as guests at her 
 bridal. Since the wooing of Lochinvar we have heard of 
 no proceedings so extraordinary and unconventional. 
 
 If Mr. Hare will cut out two-thirds of the last act the 
 piece may yet establish itself in public favour. In addi- 
 tion to that cynicism of which the present generation 
 does not readily weary, the dialogue has freshness and 
 point. One or two passages elicited that second burst of 
 laughter which, coming after the first, ratifies the verdict 
 of approval. The plot opens well, introducing one or two 
 dramatic situations. There are good touches in what 
 follows, though the concluding scenes sink beneath the 
 burden of extraneous matter. A broadly comic effect with 
 which the first act concludes is likely to incur some 
 censure. From the author's point of view, however, it is 
 defensible, and it is so droll and so natural that he would 
 be a churlish critic who would condemn it. The acting has 
 
 ii 
 
1 62 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 the ensemble Mr. Hare has striven hard and successfully 
 to impart, and many of the impersonations, taken sepa- 
 rately, will bear close criticism. The parts played by Miss 
 Ellen Terry, Miss Hollingshead, Mr. Hare-, Mr. Conway, 
 and Mr. Kelly could not easily have been better. Mr. 
 Anson started equally well, but degenerated a little as the 
 piece progressed, and accentuated his acting until it ceased 
 to form part of the picture. Two small parts, by Mr. 
 Cathcart and Mr. Leigh, were excellent in their way. On 
 the whole, the acting was of a kind which, a' few years ago, 
 it seemed hopeless to expect in England. 
 
 Dec. 2, 1876. THE revival of " Macbeth," at Drury Lane, is wholly 
 unimportant so far as theatrical art is concerned. Con- 
 ventional readings are presented after approved methods, 
 and there is nothing to inspire interest or invite analysis. 
 One point of Shakspearian criticism is, however, sug- 
 gested. Following the example of Kemble, at the opening 
 of the Drury Lane season on the 2ist of May, 1794, Mr. 
 Sullivan leaves the^Ghost of Banquo to the imagination 
 of the spectators. This is wrong. That the presence 
 which occupies his seat is visible to Macbeth alone, and 
 is as much a creation of his disordered mind as the air- 
 drawn dagger, is true, though Mrs. Siddons erroneously 
 used to pretend to see the Ghost as well as her husband, 
 and, by exercise of a power of self-control Macbeth did 
 not possess, used to conquer the manifestations of terror 
 its presence was calculated to invoke. The stage direc- 
 tion is, however, plain in the first folio, " Ghost of Ban- 
 quo enters, and sits in Macbeth's place," and an actor is 
 called upon to abide by directions so express. It would 
 be easy to show that the omission of the Ghost is wrong 
 in every respect. It has again and again been urged by 
 those over-ingenious spirits, the commentators, that the 
 Ghost who enters on the second occasion during the feast is 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 163 
 
 not the same as the first, but is the spirit of Duncan. Those 
 who argue for and against this notion lose sight of a fact, 
 sufficiently obvious in representation, which quite disposes 
 of the matter. It is when Macbeth speaks of Banquo his 
 Ghost appears. On the first occasion he says : 
 
 Here had we now our country's honour roof d 
 Were the graced person of our Banquo present ; 
 Who may I rather challenge for unkindness 
 Than pity for mischance ! 
 
 Recovering his courage after the Ghost disappears, and 
 with the sort of desperation that makes a man challenge 
 what he most fears, he says again : 
 
 I drink to the general joy o' the whole table, 
 And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss ; 
 Would he were here ! to all, and him, we thirst, 
 And all to all. 
 
 At which words the Ghost re-enters. A moment's medi- 
 tation on these paragraphs will, we think, dissuade the 
 most confirmed believer in the appearance of Duncan. 
 
 THE revival of " New Men and Old Acres," at the Dec. 9, 1876. 
 Court, is noteworthy as offering what must be pronounced, 
 upon the whole, the most competent performance of 
 modern English comedy that recent years have witnessed. 
 Mr. Hare has accumulated around him a company which, 
 from the standpoint of realistic art, is admirable. A late 
 endeavour to -galvanise into life a piece which was weak 
 in dramatic interest, and wholly void of sympathy, was 
 unsuccessful. A different result is, however, obtained now 
 that a play containing genuine dramatic fibre is supplied. 
 Of " New Men and Old Acres " we can write nothing 
 different from what we wrote when it was first produced : 
 " It has a simple and very interesting plot and much fresh- 
 ness of characterisation ". Now, as before, we find the 
 comic characters a little unnatural and unreal beside the 
 serious characters to whom they serve as foil, and we have 
 
164 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 to repeat that, " slight as is the amount of caricature that 
 has been employed, its presence is felt and is distasteful ". 
 The acting, however, deserves the highest praise that can 
 be bestowed upon it. More than one of the actors, notably 
 Mr. Kelly and Mr. Ersser Jones, have been supplied with 
 parts that seem made for them, and others, like Miss 
 Ellen Terry and Mr. Hare, enter so into the spirit of the 
 roles assigned them, that they leave no portion of them 
 unfilled. Without going to the best Parisian theatres, it 
 is not easy to rival the performance now given, and there 
 even the majority of the impersonations would call for 
 notice. This result is highly gratifying to the public, 
 unused to spectacles such as are now presented to it, and is 
 most honourable to the management. Our thankfulness, 
 however, and our congratulations, great as they are, have a 
 limit. When we have actors who can present a comedy of 
 past times in the manner in which this comedy of to-day is 
 interpreted by those Mr. Hare has assembled, acting will 
 again be a living art. Faithfully to reproduce the manners 
 around him is after all but a small portion of a comedian's 
 duty. When, however, there is so much occasion for cen- 
 sure, it would be churlish to refuse praise honestly earned. 
 We may congratulate, accordingly, Mr. Hare and his 
 company upon a performance that lifts off a portion of the 
 reproach under which we have lain, and that is the more 
 noteworthy inasmuch as, of the dozen actors concerned in 
 the performance, there is no one that does not deserve praise. 
 
 23, 1876. AFTER a successful tour through the country, Mr. 
 Irving has reappeared at the Lyceum. There are few 
 noteworthy alterations in his performance. Some attempt 
 seems to have been made to keep in check the mannerisms 
 which, in an increasing degree, have marred successive 
 impersonations, but in all important respects the Macbeth 
 remains what it was. The best feature in it is the 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 165 
 
 manner in which physical fatigue seems conquered by 
 energy. In the last act this is especially noticeable. The 
 frame is languid with want of sleep, and rent with con- 
 flicting emotions. An unquenchable light of fever burns 
 in the eye, and the resolution to dare all to the last is 
 strikingly conveyed. This is fine, so far as it goes, but it 
 is not sufficient. There is this in Macbeth, but there is 
 much more we have always failed to see in Mr. Irving. 
 Actor and piece were received with an enthusiasm that 
 may best be described as passionate. A sight such 
 as is now presented is quite unprecedented in stage 
 history, and is worth taking into account by those who 
 study the age in its various manifestations. We have 
 here a man whom a large portion of the public, and by 
 no means the least cultivated section, receives as a great 
 actor. The manifestations are, moreover, such as we 
 read of in the case of the greatest of his predecessors, and 
 contain that mixture of admiration and personal regard 
 which men like Kean or Kemble were able to inspire in 
 their admirers. Yet criticism holds itself aloof, discon- 
 tented and unsympathetic, and the actor's own profession, 
 though it is, of course, sensible of merit, fails to partake 
 the enthusiasm of the public. It seems almost as if the 
 kind of critical analysis which the characters of Shak- 
 speare have received had so raised the standard of excel- 
 lence that it is impossible for an actor, however clever or 
 sympathetic, to fulfil all requirements. The success of 
 Signor Salvini does not, as at first sight it seems, militate 
 against this theory. As a startling novelty and a triumph of 
 realistic method, Signor Salvini's acting in "Othello" took 
 a strong hold upon the public. Yet in this case even the cor- 
 rectness of the view taken was fiercely contested. It must 
 be remembered also that the succeeding attempts of Signor 
 Salvini and Signor Rossi to grapple with Shakspearian 
 characters were attended by no very remarkable success. 
 We see with regret that a misreading we at first attri- 
 
l66 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 buted to oversight is maintained. In this case it is our 
 duty to proclaim it at once offensive and contemptible. 
 Mr. Irving presents Macbeth as saying, when news is 
 brought him of his wife's death: "She would have died 
 hereafter," instead of: " She should have died hereafter". 
 Now there is no one of the manifold editions of Shak- 
 speare, numerous as these are, and slovenly as is the text of 
 many, to justify a departure from the text which fixes upon 
 a fine passage the stamp of triviality and commonplace. 
 Shakspeare is not a writer whose text should be altered 
 at the caprice of presumption. For another alteration 
 Mr. Irving is not directly, and we hope not indirectly, 
 responsible. The first two lines in the play are: 
 
 When shall we three meet again, 
 In thunder, lightning, or in rain ? 
 
 For the word " or" is substituted in delivery "and," the 
 consequence being that the significance of the query is 
 lost. This reading is adopted in the editions of Hanmer, 
 Capell, and Jennens, but appears in no edition with the 
 slightest pretence to accuracy. 
 
 Feb. 3, 1877. IN dealing with the chronicle plays of Shakspeare, and 
 in estimating their fitness for the stage, it is well to take 
 into account the circumstances under which they were 
 first produced, and the aim of the dramatist in their con- 
 struction. It is almost always difficult to speak with 
 decision as to the object of an author in composing a 
 work, since, even when he is himself communicative on 
 the subject, his reminiscences are apt to be coloured by 
 the reception it has encountered. Prefaces and autobio- 
 graphical revelations may not unfrequently be classed 
 among the most ingenuous and misleading of things. In 
 Shakspeare's case we know, however, that the chronicle 
 plays were written for a given purpose, and that, with 
 a view to the achievement of the author's object, 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 167 
 
 previous plays on the subject were laid under contribu- 
 tion. No anxiety seems to have disturbed the mind of 
 Shakspeare as to the verdict future ages were likely to 
 pass upon them. They were intended to interest the 
 public for a brief period, and to be dismissed. " Richard " 
 came late in the order of chronicle plays, and Shakspeare, 
 in its composition, benefited by the experience he had 
 obtained in its predecessors. He found that the public 
 concerned itself little in the case of such works with 
 questions of central interest of balance or of contrast, and 
 he knew that its desire to see the most of strongly marked 
 characters prevailed over all notions of system or arrange- 
 ment. In " Richard the Third," accordingly, he dis- 
 misses all thought of symmetry and of dramatic coherency, 
 beyond that of mere chronological sequence, or that con- 
 ferred by the grouping of incidents around the principal 
 figure. It is easy to imagine even that the mirth a modern 
 audience seldom fails to manifest at the development of 
 the character of Richard might have fallen gratefully 
 upon his ears, had a sixteenth-century audience, to whom 
 political animosities had a strong significance, and who 
 were taught to regard with hatred the memory of Richard, 
 been able to conquer their prejudices and display any 
 feeling other than horror. 
 
 In days when the influence of the. Wars of the Roses 
 was still felt, and when such questions as the legitimacy 
 of sovereigns had led but yesterday to every form of inter- 
 necine broil, the struggles of Richard, which won him two 
 short years of power, had interest not easy now to esti- 
 mate. It is comprehensible that, with the gradual reces- 
 sion of time, the historic element in the play dwindled in 
 importance, until the idea presented itself to Gibber of 
 strengthening the interest and the construction of a work 
 in which so much that was powerful was, to all practical 
 intents, buried. Gibber's alterations, from his own point 
 of view, were ingenious and defensible. Their highest 
 
l68 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 praise, it might almost be said their justification, is found 
 in the fact that they have since maintained their place, 
 and that the solitary instance of the production of 
 Shakspeare's play in Genest, the chronicler of things 
 histrionic, is afforded when, in 1821, Macready produced 
 it at Covent Garden, and withdrew it after two representa- 
 tions. In subsequent days, a like experiment at Sadler's 
 Wells, by Mr. Phelps, was not much more successful. 
 
 Mr. Irving is then entitled to the full measure of the 
 credit, whatever that may be, involved in bringing, for the 
 first time, the " Richard the Third " of Shakspeare upon 
 the stage, under conditions which secure it an immediate 
 triumph, and will probably gain it a long run. That the 
 popularity of the actor had some effect in bringing about 
 this result is probable. Little credit can certainly be 
 assigned the remainder of the cast, and the intrinsic 
 merits of the play are not high from the dramatic stand- 
 point. In the whole range of the Shakspearian drama, it 
 is probable, no part of serious interest could be found so 
 suited to Mr. 'Irving as Richard. He will some day, we 
 think, be of more artistic service in a part like Malvolio 
 than he has ever been in more heroic roles. His man- 
 nerisms are, however, suited to the character of Richard, 
 and the extravagancies he cannot conquer, though he 
 holds them in check, are less vexatious and distressing in 
 this character than in others he has essayed. At the 
 outset, Mr. Irving presents to perfection the soured, 
 malignant, and ambitious man, to whom men are of no 
 account, who plays with them as though they were dice 
 or counters, and sweeps them away when they have 
 served his purpose. He has a cat-like tread and a readi- 
 ness to catch information, recalling Louis the Eleventh, 
 whose style of dress he also adopts. Of hatred, in the 
 ordinary sense of the word, he seems incapable. He 
 dislikes and despises all mankind, but he is almost sincere 
 in his assertion : 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 169 
 
 I do not know that Englishmen alive, 
 With whom my soul is any jot at odds, 
 More than the infant that is born to-night ; 
 
 and it is as a satirical afterthought he observes, 
 
 I thank my God for my humility. 
 
 His chief pleasure seems to be derived from observing the 
 ease with which he can play upon men. In this he is like 
 lago, who says, " Thus do I ever make my fool my 
 purse ". When he orders a man to execution it is with 
 a " pish " or a " pshaw," rather than with a feeling of 
 anger. The very incarnation of treachery and malice, he 
 scarcely keeps from the ears of his victims the sneers he 
 utters as asides, and has to repeat, with alterations that 
 change their significance, the words he has spoken. So 
 successful is Mr. Irving in displaying this side of the 
 nature of Richard, or rather this view of his nature, he 
 omits the point ordinarily made by actors in bidding 
 Buckingham stand aside. The words 
 
 Thou troublest me : I am not in the vein-, 
 
 are spoken with the species of irony which is common 
 with Richard, and not with the angry snarl that usually 
 accompanies them. This is right. It is difficult, indeed, 
 to find any fault with the conception of the character or 
 its presentation in the earlier scenes. When, however, 
 the desertion of friends and the approach of danger rouses 
 the more heroical temper of Richard, Mr. Irving falls into 
 the old extravagance. In the last act he lengthened out 
 the syllables of words until they seemed interminable, and 
 his utterance grew inarticulate he marred the presenta- 
 tion by grimace and by extravagance of gesture, and went 
 far towards destroying the impression he had made. The 
 experience afforded Mr. Irving in the character should 
 stand him in stead. Exactly in the measure he can 
 repress his tendency to mannerism and rant is the success 
 of his performance. That he has power has been shown 
 
170 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 in a dozen consecutive presentations ; that he can subdue 
 it within artistic limits, and so turn it to profitable 
 account, he now proves. What remains to be shown is 
 that he will continue to use. the power of self-restraint he 
 possesses, and will be content to forego the enthusiasm 
 extravagance begets in the less educated portion of an 
 audience. How completely misleading this is Mr. Irving 
 may ascertain when he reflects on the fact that the acting 
 of other characters, in which a pitch of farcical extrava- 
 gance was reached, was received with applause scarcely 
 less loud than was awarded himself. 
 
 There are few alterations in the text. Such as are 
 made are wholly valueless. There is a pedantic affecta- 
 tion of correctness in altering the word " her " to " his " 
 in the line concerning Anne 
 
 What though I killed her husband and her father, 
 
 seeing that Richard uses again in the same scene the word 
 " her " a few lines further on, and subsequently, when he 
 has another purpose to serve, substitutes " his ". It is 
 impossible to say why " promise " is substituted for " pre- 
 sent " in the third of the following lines : 
 
 Simple, plain Clarence ! I do love thee so 
 That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, 
 If heaven will take the present at our hands. 
 
 Of the alterations in general, it may be said that they 
 are unimportant, and are only objectionable because all 
 unnecessary alteration must be objectionable. In a few 
 cases some changes in delivery might, with advantage, be 
 adopted. One instance is all we shall quote. When, 
 after Queen Margaret's fierce imprecation, Gloster, with 
 customary scorn, says to Dorset, 
 
 Good counsel, marry ; learn it, learn it, Marquis. 
 
 and is answered 
 
 It touches you, my lord, as much as me. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 171 
 
 Gloster continues 
 
 Ay, and much more : But I was born so high, 
 
 Our aiery buildeth in the cedar's top, 
 
 And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun. 
 
 Here there should be an emphasis on "dallies" and on 
 "scorns," seeing that the intention is to convey that the 
 blasts and other influences before spoken of as dangerous 
 to others are innocuous or pleasurable to him and his 
 lineage. 
 
 The general mounting of the play is admirable. The 
 remainder of the cast affords little opportunity for favour- 
 able comment. 
 
 "THE WIFE'S SECRET" of Lovell is in some respects Mar. 24, 1877. 
 a typical drama. Produced by Charles Kean at a time 
 when the stage first commenced to shake off what was 
 most dishonouring in its associations, and aspired to 
 become a means of social education and reform, it stands 
 forth a model of the kind of work to be hoped when art 
 and literature are subjected to puritanical limitations. As 
 much strength as can well be imparted to a piece in which 
 everything is sacrificed to propriety and respectability is 
 possessed by it, and its interest is as keen as can be hoped 
 in the case of a play in which rage speaks with its finger 
 upon its lips, and passion in its wildest outbreak keeps its 
 eye fixed upon the lines of its draperies. Respect for the 
 decencies of life is not inconsistent with tragic suffering. 
 Polyxena, who, according to Talthybius, when the Greeks 
 are about to offer her as a sacrifice, rends herself her 
 garments : 
 
 Xa/3oi(ra 7TfiT\ovs e a/cpas* eVeoju.t'Sos 1 , 
 epprjtf \ayovos fls peaov, "rap 1 o/j.(paX6v 
 paaTovs r e'Sft^f, (TTfpva $', a>s ayaX/xaros 
 KoXA terra 
 
 is the same who in dying thinks only of what is maidenly 
 and becoming : 
 
172 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 ) 6, KCt vr)(TKOV(T, OfJ.b)S, 
 
 Trpovoiav fl\ f v evcr^fiois TTftT 
 Kpinrrovcr' a KpvTTTfiv o/i/>iar' dpaevav 
 
 Passions are, however, difficult things to run in double 
 harness, and despair will not always be controlled by out- 
 side notions of what is seemly. When, after listening 
 with incredulity to the explanations of Emilia, Othello 
 says to her with irrepressible scorn : 
 
 Some of your function, mistress ; 
 Leave procreants alone, and shut the door : 
 Cough or cry " hem," if anybody come ; 
 Your mystery, your mystery nay, despatch 
 
 burning indignation and supreme loathing are traceable 
 in every word. Under circumstances precisely analogous, 
 the hero of " The Wife's Secret " orders out of his way 
 the girl he supposes to have ushered in his wife's gallant, 
 and calls her a "useful go-between". The selection of 
 terms speaks highly for the moderation of Sir Walter 
 Amyott, and shows how 7 well ordered was the muse of 
 Lovell. Passion, however, would not be likely to employ 
 such a euphemism, but would be apt to call a spade a 
 spade. 
 
 It must not be supposed that we seek to bring back to 
 our stage such excess of licence as was accorded it in its 
 palmy days. Still, if life is to be presented, it must be 
 real life. Very well in their way are goody-goody novels 
 and edifying poems. The drama, however, and the tragic 
 drama especially, which aims at purging the soul through 
 pity and fear, must present men as they are, or must lose 
 all claim to the position it holds. It is in the very nature 
 of things that the popular drama shall be a fair reflection 
 of the age before which it is set. From a drama more 
 decorous or more indecorous than the time the public will 
 recoil, in the one case through weariness, in the other 
 through dislike. 
 
 It is scarcely just, perhaps, to " The Wife's Secret," 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 173 
 
 which has genuine merit, to make it the text of a sermon 
 of this class. Charles Kean rather than Lovell is the 
 person to whom Philistinism is to be imputed, if any 
 charge of Philistinism can be maintained. "The Wife's 
 Secret " is, however, aggressive not only on account of its 
 sustained propriety, but because it is, in fact, a modernised 
 " Othello ". Convert Othello into a Christian gentleman, 
 Desdemona into a British matron, and lago into a 
 puritanical impostor, and provide the story with a happy 
 denoument, and Lovell's play is the result. It is a work 
 such as a bishop might commend to a management he 
 had taken under his special protection. Perfect men and 
 women are, however, in this world moral monsters. A 
 man who can check the course of passion, and can turn 
 upon the woman who has introduced a lover into his wife's 
 apartment and call her a " useful go-between," is far too 
 decorous a gentleman to form the subject of any suffering 
 except that special form of calamity which is intended 
 to serve the purpose of a moral lesson. On the stage a 
 different kind of man is required. It is our vices that turn 
 upon us and rend us ; it is our crimes that bring upon us 
 the Fates and the Furies. 
 
 Accepting " The Wife's Secret " for what it is worth, 
 and taking up the standpoint of the author, the only serious 
 charge that can be brought against it is its excessive 
 length. A simple story, which Scribe or Bayard would 
 have converted into an admirable two-act play, is spread 
 over five acts. One act the third includes the action ; 
 two previous acts are devoted to preparing for it, and the 
 two subsequent acts are occupied with delaying a termina- 
 tion known to be inevitable. It is written with earnest- 
 ness, however, and some of the concluding scenes, though 
 impossible, are touching and dramatic. Mr. Neville has 
 done well in bringing again before the public this piece, 
 the first production of which, in America, dates back to 
 1845. It was not until three years later that Mr. Charles 
 
174 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Kean, who had found it a piece de resistance in a tour 
 through the United States, gave it at the Haymarket. 
 Mr. Neville's own style is manly and broad. He played 
 the part of Sir Walter Amy oil as well as any living English 
 actor could present it. As Lady Eveline, Miss Pateman 
 reached a point of great pathos ; she is still, however, 
 terribly artificial, and the wheels and springs of her art are 
 always open to the observer. She recalls, indeed, one of 
 those modern clocks in which the dial-plate, all but the 
 band containing the figures, is removed, and the action of 
 the works is disclosed to the spectator. Mr. Pateman's 
 presentation of a puritanical steward was not without 
 force. Miss Camille Dubois gave a very agreeable picture 
 of a maiden 
 
 Passing praise, 
 
 Strait-laced, but all-to-full, in bud 
 For puritanic stays. 
 
 Other parts, with the exception of a small character taken 
 by Mr. Vollaire, were played badly. It is due to art to 
 say, painful as is the statement where a lady is concerned, 
 that Miss Chapman's voice constitutes a complete dis- 
 qualification, and'that the young lady should serve art or 
 society in some other function than as an actress. 
 
 April 7, 1877. THE version of " Le Village " of M. Octave Feuillet, 
 produced at the Prince of Wales's under the title of " The 
 Vicarage," differs widely from the original, and wholly 
 from the previous adaptation, known as the " Cosy 
 Couple ". In " Le Village " M. Feuillet has no aim 
 beyond contrasting a life of adventure with the quiet and 
 rather humdrum existence of a country town, and assign- 
 ing to the latter the preference. In "The Vicarage" a 
 more didactic purpose is evident. For a country notary, 
 not without some points of resemblance to the comic 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 175 
 
 bourgeois who is the constant hero of French farce, is now 
 substituted an English clergyman, and the question argued 
 is whether it is fitting that a man in such a station shall 
 live a home life or shall indulge in the luxury of foreign 
 travel. 
 
 Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits, 
 
 says Valentine to Proteus. The truth of this proposition 
 is shown in the Rev. Noel Haygarth, who, after thirty 
 years' repose in a country vicarage, is startled by the 
 appearance of George Clarke, a friend of college days. 
 As he listens to the lively portraiture of foreign scenes 
 and foreign manners given by his impetuous visitor, a 
 desire to shake off the sloth into which he has fallen, and 
 to see the world of which he has dreamed, comes upon 
 him. A few glasses of sherry and a cigar make of him a 
 complete convert to the opinions of his friend, and his 
 wife accordingly, on her return from the discharge of some 
 charitable duty, finds him packing up his clothes for 
 immediate departure. A duel follows between the woman 
 upon whose "secure hour" the spoiler has thus stolen, 
 and the stranger who has dared to 
 
 Creep and intrude and climb into the fold. 
 
 In the end tears, the unfailing armour of weakness, prove 
 again triumphant, and the man who has come for the 
 purpose of deriding his friend's commonplace existence 
 remains to share it. It would be easy to show that this 
 teaching is futile. A priest who quits for awhile his duties 
 to see the world is guilty of no offence, and a traveller 
 who is hardened in a life of selfishness is not likely to 
 become an instantaneous convert to stay-at-home doc- 
 trines, or to bring much comfort to those whose existence 
 he proposes to share. It is, however, hypercritical to 
 investigate too closely the motive of a piece so unpre- 
 tending and so graceful. " The Vicarage " has a delicious 
 atmosphere, and it is interpreted with a completeness 
 
176 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 which cannot easily be rivalled on the English stage. 
 The four characters by whom its action is presented are 
 fully realised. Mrs. Bancroft as Mrs. Haygarth presents 
 admirably the bright, cheerful, and devout spouse of a 
 country vicar, whose mind is filled with the dignity of her 
 position, and whose ambition is satisfied with the dis- 
 charge of routine duties. There is a tendency to laugh a 
 little too much in the cheerier part. This, however, is 
 all that needs alteration. The emotional aspects of the 
 character are given with supreme skill, and the entire 
 performance is admirably finished and effective. 
 
 Equally fine, delicate, and studied is the Rev. Noel 
 Haygarth of Mr. Arthur Cecil, who presents to the life a 
 meek, peaceful, and benign clergyman of an old-fashioned 
 type. Mr. Kendal at the commencement is excellent as 
 the traveller whose irruption gives rise to the plot, but 
 fails to present very satisfactorily the more serious interest 
 which, it must be owned, is to English tastes rather un- 
 necessarily and clumsily introduced. Mr. Newton gives 
 a very clever presentation of a faithful and privileged 
 old servant. There is about the whole something tender 
 and idyllic, and eminently devotional. To keep up this 
 feeling, which is altogether appropriate to the scene, the 
 last words of the play, spoken by Mrs. Haygarth, should 
 be: 
 
 It has been our first sadness, and, by God's help, it shall be our last, 
 my husband. 
 
 When spoken as it now is, without the words " by God's 
 help," there is a species of presumption on which a woman 
 such as the heroine would not venture. The adaptation 
 is on the whole cleverly executed, and the interpretation 
 is a credit to English art. 
 
 MR. READE'S adaptation of his story of "Foul Play" 
 attains a high point of interest and dramatic strength. It 
 is, however, clumsy in shape, and weakened by the intro- 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 177 
 
 duction of matter irrelevant to the plot. In the scenes 
 on the island, during which the heroine learns the true 
 state of her feelings with regard to the man who has 
 shared her captivity, a keen sympathy for the lovers is 
 aroused. From this point the interest does not flag, and 
 the end of the play comes almost too soon, since a desire 
 is stirred to follow closely the process of unravelling a 
 mystery so complicated and so ingenious. The comic 
 scenes are, however, unsatisfactory, and the revels on 
 shipboard are insignificant. Mr. Reade would, indeed, 
 have done well in presenting a portion of the action in 
 pantomime. After the dramatic, but not too necessary 
 prologue, and the scene in Hobart Town in which the 
 departure of the doomed ship is witnessed, and the full 
 infamy of the transaction which brings about its destruc- 
 tion is unveiled, a panorama of the fate of the vessel would 
 have been more effective than the scenes on shipboard 
 which are presented. There is some force in the dispute 
 between the hero and Wylie, to whom the task of destruc- 
 tion is committed, but the scene leads to nothing. The 
 hero does not keep his promise of bringing Wylie to the 
 gallows, nor is Wylie himself the kind of man to do the 
 deed assigned him. A curious sort of moral is, moreover, 
 inculcated in the treatment of Wylie, who, after he has 
 given up the money he received for scuttling the ship, 
 seems to think himself re-established in the world's 
 esteem, and able to look honest men in the face 
 without flinching. The performance of the principal 
 characters was adequate. Mr. Neville has seldom acted 
 with more power than he displayed as the clergyman 
 hero. Mr. Forbes Robertson gave an altogether novel 
 presentation of villainy. Miss Pateman played the 
 heroine in fairly effective style, and Mr. Pateman and 
 Mr. Ashford, the latter an actor new to London, were 
 satisfactory as sailors. The escapades of a Mr. Artaud, 
 who had to present a drunken captain, were extra- 
 
 12 
 
178 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 vagant enough to threaten at one time the success of 
 the piece. 
 
 THE well-known defence which, according to Scott, 
 Sterne adopted when a Yorkshire lady told him that his 
 book was not proper for female perusal, would probably 
 be employed with more propriety by Mr. Albery to vin- 
 dicate his version of " Les Dominos Roses " of MM. 
 Hennequin and Delacour. If not exactly childlike in 
 innocence, the intrigue in " The Pink Dominos " has, at 
 least, no absolute wickedness. What is worst in it is of 
 that kind which Coleridge characterised when he said : 
 " We have only to suppose society innocent, and then 
 nine-tenths of this sort of wit would be like a stone that 
 falls in snow, making no sound because exciting no resis- 
 tance ". The English version is a capital instance of 
 successful adaptation. In some respects, indeed, it is 
 better than the original. The dialogue is wholly English, 
 and brims over with that kind of oddity of association in 
 which Mr. Albery is unequalled. The last act is a model 
 of construction. The plot of this piece was briefly men- 
 tioned and characterised when the original was given, in 
 May of last year, at the Vaudeville. A fairly competent 
 exposition was provided, Mr. Standing, Mr. Wyndham, 
 Mr. J. Clarke, Miss Fanny Josephs, Miss Eastlake, and 
 Miss Camille Clermont taking the principal parts. Mr. 
 Ashley assumed the character of an old bourgeois, origi- 
 nally assumed by M. Parade, and enacted it with a 
 quietude for which we were thankful, since the slightest 
 excess would have rendered it wholly detestable. 
 
 Apr. 21, 1877. Two plays of Massinger still maintain a sort of hold 
 upon the stage. Once at least within the memory of a 
 middle-aged playgoer, " The Fatal Dowry " has been 
 produced in London, while "A New Way to Pay Old 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 179 
 
 Debts" has been given half-a-dozen times since the middle 
 of the century. The latest revival of the play last named 
 took place at the Haymarket, in October, 1861, during 
 the short engagement of Edwin Booth, and is remembered 
 less on account of the impersonation of Sir Giles Over- 
 reach by that rather tumid tragedian, than because of Mr. 
 Compton's masterly performance of Marrall. On the 
 strength of the single character of Sir Giles Overreach it 
 has been the fashion to rank Massinger above his fellow- 
 dramatists. Such pre-eminence is, however, undeserved. 
 In that marvellous combination of poetry, passion, and 
 imagination, which seems the special attribute of the 
 Shakspearian drama, Massinger is inferior not only to 
 master-spirits like Beaumont and Fletcher, Marlowe and 
 Webster, but to such men as Heywood, Decker, or Ford. 
 His works have, however, some special merits which 
 commend them to the stage. Though rough and un- 
 finished, his characters are largely drawn, his stories are 
 interesting and sympathetic, and are educed with some 
 knowledge of what is likely to please an audience, and his 
 style is suited to the modern actor from the absence of 
 those more delicate graces and subtler harmonies which 
 distinguish the verse of poets of ampler inspiration and 
 puzzle, actors into whose training, if they ever had any, 
 knowledge of the requirements of verse has never entered. 
 The fact that Massinger occupies a second-rate posi- 
 tion among dramatists does not prevent him from having 
 produced, in Sir Giles Overreach, a character almost 
 unequalled in the opportunities it offers an actor. Except 
 Garrick and Macready, every actor of note since the 
 beginning of the last century has essayed it, and 
 Henderson, Cooke, Pope, both the Keans, Kemble, Van- 
 denhoff, Elton, Brooke, Booth, and Mr. Phelps have in 
 turns appeared in it. Kean's success in it was the most 
 conspicuous he ever obtained. The picture of the house, 
 with Byron fainting in the auditorium, Mrs. Glover faint- 
 
l8o DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 ing on the stage, Mrs. Horn weeping on a chair into which 
 she had fallen, and Munden, so transfixed that he had to 
 be dragged off the boards by the arms, absolutely power- 
 less to help himself, is the most striking that has ever 
 been presented in a theatre. On the return from the 
 theatre, Kean was questioned by his wife as to what Lord 
 Essex had said concerning his performance. " Damn 
 Lord Essex ! " answered the excited tragedian ; " the pit 
 rose at me." In the conception of this character Mas- 
 singer seems to have caught a breath of inspiration from 
 Marlowe. Sir Giles Overreach is as implacable as Bara- 
 bas and as daring as Faustus. He pursues his way to his 
 end with a calm serenity of villainy perfectly diabolic. It 
 is a mistake from the highest standpoint that the end is 
 insignificant. The lust of Faustus for knowledge is in 
 itself noble, though the means he takes to gratify it are 
 unblest, and the crimes of Barabas, like the revenge of 
 Shylock, find a certain element of mitigation in the fact 
 that each in his feelings represents the result of centuries 
 of wrong and oppression. Overreach, however, is bad 
 from a species of innate love of tyrannising over his 
 fellows. Such men exist. They are seldom, however, 
 content with an aim so modest as marrying their daughters 
 to lords. Such an ambition is wholly unworthy of the 
 man who walks on his way unperturbed by railing and 
 outcry, and when asked if he is not frighted with the 
 curses and imprecations of those he has ruined, answers- 
 Yes, as rocks are 
 
 When foamy billows split themselves against 
 Their flinty ribs ; or, as the moon is moved, 
 When wolves, with hunger pined, howl at her brightness. 
 
 This defect, however, is felt only in reading the play or 
 reflecting upon it, and does not detract seriously from the 
 value of the character for the purposes of the actor. For 
 the rest, Sir Giles Overreach is best painted in the descrip- 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. l8l 
 
 tion given of him by Furnace, who contrasts with the 
 common practices of usurers his haughty carriage : 
 
 To have a usurer that starves himself, 
 
 And wears a cloak of one-and-twenty years, 
 
 On a suit of fourteen groats, bought of the hangman, 
 
 To grow rich, and then purchase, is too common. 
 
 But this Sir Giles feeds high, keeps many servants, 
 
 Who must at his command do any outrage ; 
 
 Rich in his habit, vast in his expenses ; 
 
 Yet he to admiration still increases 
 
 In wealth and lordships. 
 
 A man of this calibre, who keeps in his pay, by minister- 
 ing to his vices, a justice of the peace, to sanction all his 
 deeds of rapine and to afford him opportunity for instant 
 action, a man whom weapons cannot affright, who is 
 ignorant of fear to the extent of not caring to hide his 
 villainies, and who has the strength and courage of the 
 trained warrior to back up the aggression of the petti- 
 fogger who is, in fact, as the play says, a combination of 
 the lion and the fox will soon get so used to triumph 
 over men of less energy and resolution that victory will 
 seem to fight on his side. To such a one defeat appears 
 an impossibility. When, accordingly, he finds, at the 
 crowning instant of his life, the whole edifice of his gran- 
 deur melt away, and sees himself duped and befooled, 
 there is small cause for marvel if the shock produces 
 madness. At the moment when, regardless how many 
 swords may pierce his own breast, he is ready to rush 
 through all obstacles to glut his vengeance, the brain 
 yields and the heart-strings crack, the arm, paralysed, lets 
 fall the innocuous sword, and a sudden qualm of consci- 
 ence, the first he has felt, comes upon him. He feels that 
 orphans' tears glue the sword to the scabbard, and that 
 widows undone by him arrest his arm. All this is finely 
 conceived, and is susceptible of magnificent exposition. 
 
 Mr. Vezin's performance of Sir Giles is thoughtful and 
 capable. It does not reach grandeur, but it abounds in 
 
1 82 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 intellectual touches. We fail to see the splendid vitality 
 that triumphs over all obstacles and revels in the sense of 
 power, but we see the resolute bad man, implacable in 
 animosity and defiant in wrong-doing. The finest point is 
 that in which the actor seeks to approach his daughter, 
 whom he purposes to slay for her disobedience. This was 
 finely conceived and finely executed. The whole perform- 
 ance is worthy of Mr. Vezin's reputation. Mr. Clayton acted 
 with much force and dignity as Wellborn, and realised fully 
 the character of the dissipated but loyal and manly gentle- 
 man. Mr. Flockton was powerful as Marrall, and Miss 
 Kate Pattison made a favourable debut as Margaret. The 
 whole fun of the character of Justice Greedy is lost in 
 consequence of the actor assuming a portly appearance. 
 He should, in fact, as the text directs, be a thin and 
 lanky personage. The plot of " A New Way to Pay Old 
 Debts" was, in part, suggested by Middleton's "A Trick 
 to Catch the Old One". 
 
 June 2, 1877. UNTIL London is provided with some form of sub- 
 ventioned theatre, and with something in the shape of a 
 school of histrionic art, we may as well dismiss the hope 
 of seeing the comedies of the Restoration acted as they 
 ought to be acted, if any serious end is to be served by 
 their revival. Once and again a solitary piece is drawn 
 forth and exhibited in the light much in the same fashion 
 as we might take from a closet some long-preserved relic 
 of past finery, and shake out of it the dust and the moths. 
 A performance, however, such as that of "The Incon- 
 stant," now to be witnessed at the Aquarium, at which it 
 comes forth as the first of a series of representations of a 
 'similar class, is no more serious approach to a genuine 
 revival of our older drama than the gathering together at 
 a fancy ball of a number of worthy and commonplace 
 people, in bizarre and incongruous dresses of past epochs, 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 183 
 
 is an effort to return to the costume of our forefathers. A 
 certain measure of interest attends the reproduction of 
 " The Inconstant". Mr. Marshall has edited the dialogue 
 with remarkable care and success, and has rendered it 
 conformable to modern tastes with slight excisions, and 
 with less sacrifice of flavour than was anticipated by those 
 who know how like old art is to old wine, and how 
 dangerous in each case is the process of rebottling. The 
 entire number of words of his own he has found cause to 
 insert amounts, according to his own assertion, to fewer 
 than fifty. A statement of this kind will be readily 
 accepted by those who have witnessed the performance, 
 and noticed how thoroughly the language of the Restora- 
 tion comedy is preserved. No less conspicuous than the 
 triumph of Mr. Marshall is that of Mr. Planche, who has 
 supplied dresses which, in point of picturesqueness and 
 accuracy, leave nothing to be desired, and views which are 
 worth studying for the sake of the light they throw upon 
 the Paris of the closing years of Louis XIV. Of the 
 acting it may be said that it is surprisingly good, con- 
 sidering the difficulties that had to be combated. Mr. 
 Warner's Young Mirabel had gaiety and animal spirits, 
 which compensated for the absence of distinction. It is 
 high praise to say of an actor, trained under such condi- 
 tions as now exist in England, that he gave a presentation 
 of a gallant of the Restoration which was free from offence, 
 and might claim, in some respects at least, to be lifelike 
 and conceivable. Against Mr. Stephens as Old Mirabel it 
 might be urged that the personality of the actor over- 
 mastered that of the character ; while of Mr. Fawn 
 (Duretete), Mr. Macklin (Dugard), Miss Meyrick (Bisarre), 
 and Miss Brennan (Oriana), it can only be said that they 
 acted w r ith moderation, and failed only in those respects 
 in which success was scarcely to be hoped. The presence 
 of one animating spirit behind the representation was felt 
 by the audience, and the play interested and amused. 
 
1 84 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 These concessions made, there remains the fact that a 
 reproduction of this kind is mere trifling. If we are ever 
 again to have a school of acting we must have a serious 
 revival of old plays so far as they are reconcilable to 
 modern tastes, and if we are to have a serious revival of 
 old plays we must have a school of acting. After that 
 period, lamentable from the histrionic standpoint, of civil 
 war which broke us altogether off from the traditions of 
 Shakspeare, and left Betterton the practical father of our 
 stage, an unbroken succession of representations of old 
 comedy was given until the early portion of this century. 
 Traditions concerning Duretete were transmitted from 
 Garrick (Bullock was the first representative of the part 
 and Miller the second) through Lewis and Dodd to 
 Listen, Vining, and Harley. Charles Kemble inherited, 
 as Young Mirabel, the teaching of Wilks and Palmer ; 
 and Elliston, Munden, and Dowton might learn, as Old 
 Mirabel, from such predecessors as Pinkethman, Yates, 
 Shuter, Edwin, Parsons, and Quick. 
 
 Since this period, however, it has been shown that if 
 
 Peace has her victories 
 Not less renowned than war, 
 
 she likewise has her defeats, which are not less renowned 
 also. Quite as fatal as that period of internecine struggle 
 in which the actors, proving their right to the title they 
 had borne of the King's servants, died fighting the King's 
 battles, and left at the Restoration not enough of all sorts 
 to constitute a couple of meagre companies has been the 
 period of peace in which men have allowed all knowledge 
 of past art to expire. Since 1828 there have been, so far 
 as we are aware, two revivals of "The Inconstant," 
 which was included in that fine series of performances 
 rendering illustrious Mr. Phelp's management of Sadler's 
 Wells, and was played for a short time at the Gaiety. It 
 is difficult to speak authoritatively on the subject, since, 
 for half-a-century, the drama has sunk into such neglect 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 185 
 
 that no one has had courage to write its history or even 
 to preserve a mere record of events of note. There are, 
 accordingly, few actors on the stage who have ever seen 
 this piece. It is time, then, that if we are to make an 
 attempt at founding a school of acting it should be done, 
 for shortly there will be no teachers left, and we shall 
 have to borrow our professors from the schools of foreign 
 countries, where, luckily, more liberal views concerning 
 art prevail. 
 
 Is it, then, expedient, it may be asked, to form schools 
 of art for the purpose of reviving a class of work that, on 
 account of its immorality, has already 
 
 Fallen into disgrace and in the nostrils 
 Smells horrible ? 
 
 Perhaps not, though Mr. Marshall's experiment proves 
 that works of this class may be purged of offence without 
 losing their quality, and though the fact remains that 
 excessive squeamishness is not characteristic of the Eng- 
 lish race, but of a puritanical minority that plays its 
 " fantastic tricks " because men of information and taste 
 are indolent in matters in which no great principle seems 
 to be involved. If ever, however, we are to have a 
 comedy, other than that so-called realistic comedy which 
 is now in vogue, and if men are to be able to play well in 
 pieces, the scenes of which are laid in ages before indivi- 
 duality of manner and costume was abandoned, it will be 
 necessary to train young actors to play such parts as the 
 Mirabels. 
 
 Reflections of this class are forced upon us by a revival 
 such as that of " The Inconstant". In propounding again 
 and again the view that it is the duty of an enlightened 
 government to found a school of acting, and maintaining 
 that no government that refuses its aid in a scheme of the 
 kind has a right to be considered enlightened, we are but 
 beating the empty air. Still the duty of speaking truths 
 of this kind remains. Needful reforms are not obtained 
 
l86 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 without considerable repetition, and the persistence of 
 those who maintain erect a standard around which men 
 will some day rally is not the less honourable, because no 
 knowledge of them may survive to the generation which 
 benefits by their endurance. 
 
 Of the play itself, it is sufficient to say that it comes 
 apparently through France from a Spanish or Italian 
 source, but that it has not hitherto been traced further 
 back than the " Wild Goose Chase " of Beaumont and 
 Fletcher, from which the first four acts are taken. The 
 termination is said by Farquhar to be founded on an 
 adventure of Le Chevalier de Chatillon. In some respects 
 the play is primitive, the subordinate characters being 
 purely conventional. Mirabel is, however, entertaining, 
 and Oriana sympathetic. Some of the dialogue is witty, 
 and more than one speech might easily be ascribed to 
 Sheridan, who seems to have had an admiration for Far- 
 quhar leading him to the borders of direct imitation. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 Gaiety: " Le Wagon des Dames". Lyceum: "The Dead 
 Secret," drama in a prologue and three acts. Olympic : 
 " The Moonstone" drama in four acts by Wilkie Collins. 
 H ay market : "Engaged," comedy in three acts by W. 
 S. Gilbert. Court : " The House of Darnley," comedy in 
 five acts by Edward, Lord Lytton. Prince of Wales' s : 
 "Diplomacy," comedy in five acts by Bolton Rowe and 
 Saville Rowe. Globe: "A Fool and His Money," 
 comedy in three acts by Henry J-. Byron. Hay market : 
 " Twelfth Night ".Olympic : " The Ne'er-do-Weel," 
 comedy in three acts by W. S. Gilbert. Lyceum : "Louis 
 XI ".Olympic : " The Vagabond," by W. S. Gilbert, 
 being the "Ne'er-do-Weel" rewritten. Court: "Olivia" 
 drama in four acts by W. G. Wills. Aquarium : " The 
 Vicar of Wakefield," by Tom Taylor. Hay market : 
 "Romeo and Juliet". 
 
 "LE WAGON DES DAMES," in which the latest appear- June 30, 1877. 
 ance of Madame Chaumont has been made before a Lon- 
 don public, provides the actress with a part altogether 
 unlike any in which she has been previously seen in this 
 country. As the heroine of " Madame attend Monsieur," 
 she exhibits the anger of a bourgeoise whose husband, while 
 urging upon her the necessity of a rigid economy, has set 
 up unknown to her a second establishment, over which a 
 rival presides. As Toto, in " Toto chez Tata," she depicts 
 the humours and extravagancies of French youth, and 
 lets us into the very heart of a French schoolboy. 
 " L' Autographic " shows us the soubrette, young, pretty, 
 
 (187) 
 
188 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 intriguing, and full of talent and vivacity, the direct 
 descendant of the suivante of Moliere, Elise or Lisette, as 
 the case may be. In Berthe, in " Le Wagon des Dames," 
 a part she created eleven years ago at the Gymnase, 
 Madame Chaumont now depicts the French girl. The 
 impersonation is, accordingly, a species of companion 
 picture to that of Toto, So accustomed are we to see the 
 French young lady a type of all that is gentlest and most 
 innocent, or at least most unsophisticated in life, we 
 scarcely dare pronounce an opinion as to the truthfulness 
 of this new presentation. A young lady who, brought up 
 with all the protections accorded to French maidenhood, 
 talks of such articles of attire as a " suivez moi, jeune 
 homme," or a " permission de dix heures," retails before 
 the family circle the latest adventure that is recorded 
 concerning " ces dames" and their admirers, and imitates 
 the style and walk of the lorette with a fidelity that leaves 
 nothing to be desired, strikes those familiar with the 
 French stage of to-day as a species of monster. Pains 
 are, however, taken to prove that the knowledge of the 
 world of this precocious young heroine is only skin-deep, 
 and that behind her tolerably free and easy manners lurks 
 the innocence of the ingenue. That Madame Chaumont 
 can render amusing a part like this is a truth that will 
 readily find credence. That any young woman answering 
 absolutely to the type the actress presents can be found in 
 France is doubtful. Her enjoyment of the droll situations 
 she brings about is incompatible with ignorance of the 
 nature of the confusion she creates. In farce, however, 
 audiences are not exacting with regard to absolute truth 
 to nature, and, from any other standpoint, the performance 
 is delightful. 
 
 Sept. i, 1877. IT must not be supposed that the "Dead Secret "suc- 
 cessfully produced on Wednesday represents, with any 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. l8o/ 
 
 approach to fulness and variety, the novel on which it is 
 founded. The Lyceum drama resolves itself into a good 
 orthodox ghost-story, which, quite setting aside the subtle 
 refinements of modern glamour, luminous hands, bouquets 
 fresh from the Elysian Fields, and melodies condescend- 
 ingly played by spiritual fingers upon material guitars, 
 boldly relies upon the most primitive and venerable 
 machinery of supernaturalism, and darts back at a bound 
 from the days of Mr. Home to those of Mrs. Radcliffe. 
 
 Sarah Leeson, whose illegitimate child is brought up 
 as that of her wealthy mistress, is imperatively com- 
 manded by the latter on her deathbed to write and 
 witness a full confession of the fraud that has been 
 practised. Instead of doing so, the afflicted mother, 
 desirous to preserve her name from disgrace and her child 
 from penury, hides the evidence in the house of her de- 
 funct mistress, a want of good faith which the ghost of the 
 latter avenges by appearing to the delinquent so often and 
 so menacingly that her reason and even her life are 
 threatened. Eventually Sarah Leeson's daughter, then 
 grown up, discovers the confession, and reveals it to her 
 husband, who, though the humility of his wife's origin is 
 thus brought to light, loves her all the better for the 
 frankness of her conduct. Ultimately the mother is 
 tenderly forgiven by the child, upon which the avenging 
 ghost ceases to pursue her, and leaves her with a reason- 
 able prospect of happiness. 
 
 Such is the story, which, if it at no time greatly excited 
 the audience, yet managed fairly to engage its interest. 
 The wailings of dismal winds, the oaken bedroom with its 
 four-post bedstead, the occasional apparition of the vin- 
 dictive ghost through the gauzes, did not exactly produce 
 awe, but awoke in the spectators that sort of sociable 
 recognition which is due to very ancient acquaintances. 
 Miss Bateman, as the heart-stricken and nervous mother, 
 was thoroughly in earnest, and succeeded more than once 
 
1 90 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 in producing a marked impression upon the house. If in 
 the earlier scenes her acting was too much in one key, the 
 fault should rather be ascribed to the sameness of the 
 positions she has to fill than to herself. 
 
 Sept. 22, 1877. MR. WILKIE COLLINS cannot be congratulated on the 
 manner in which he has dramatised his novel of " The 
 Moonstone". That a work so ambitious in aim, and so 
 composite in nature, could not without some sacrifice of 
 character and of story be brought within the compass of 
 a play, was obvious from the first. There must surely, 
 however, have been some means of obtaining the desired 
 result at a sacrifice less damaging than that of the whole 
 character and conception of the novel. The extravagance 
 and impossibility of portions of " The Moonstone" are for- 
 gotten by the reader who finds himself steeped in a rich 
 glow of Oriental colour. In its way, "The Moonstone " 
 is a species of " Monte Christo," a work in which you are 
 content to admit what you know to be inconceivable, and 
 allow full scope to an invention \vhich supplies so fully 
 every detail of the life it creates ; you accept as true what 
 might have been, even though it is not. There is some- 
 thing impressive in the conception of the circumstances 
 under which the jewel is stolen from an Indian idol ; the 
 magic power with which it is supposed to be invested and 
 the sort of curse attached to its possession flatter that love 
 of the supernatural which lurks within our nature ; and 
 the figures of the three Indians dogging the possessors of 
 the sacred emblem, though they lend themselves easily to 
 ludicrous associations, are not without an element of 
 absolute terror. In the dramatic version this is entirely 
 lost. Some slight attempt is made to attach to the pos- 
 session of the stone a species of curse. The panic, how- 
 ever, of an imbecile old servant, which is unshared by any 
 other character, forms but a poor substitute for the weird 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. IQI 
 
 qualities with which in the original the gem is invested ; 
 and the declaration of the heroine at the end, that she 
 will sell the stone and build with the money thus obtained 
 an hospital, strikes us only as unreasonable. In degrad- 
 ing the moonstone, Mr. Collins degrades his story. Thus, 
 though he has framed an interesting and successful play, 
 we cannot help wishing he had called it something else. 
 
 The entire story consists in the theft of the moonstone 
 by Franklin Blake while he is in a state of somnambulism, 
 and the solution of the mystery thus begotten by means of 
 a surgeon, who, placing Blake in conditions exactly the 
 same as those in which he has formerly been, causes him 
 to repeat his previous action. There is, in addition, a 
 rivalry for the hand of Rachel Verinder between the un- 
 conscious perpetrator of the theft and Godfrey Ablewhite, 
 the pseudo-philanthropist, who endeavours to turn the 
 action to his own profit. Now, putting on one side the 
 question of the inadequacy of the cause which brings 
 about the tendency to sleep-walking though this, which 
 is in the play merely the effect of supper and a glass of 
 hot brandy-and-water upon a man who is in a nervous 
 condition and is unused to such indulgence, does, in fact, 
 by its frivolity, shock the spectator it is obvious there is 
 no need, in the case of so simple a plot, to call in the 
 agency of the moonstone. Any article of value enough to 
 tempt a man who is needy would do as well as this for the 
 purpose, and the play would be to the full as effective. It 
 would, indeed, be in all respects more satisfactory to sub- 
 stitute bank-notes for the diamond, seeing that Ablewhite 
 might, under such circumstances, be more easily tempted 
 to the crime he commits, inasmuch as he could scarcely 
 hope, without encountering extreme risk, to dispose of 
 a gem of the splendour and size of the moonstone. If 
 it is urged against this that the play would thus be 
 reduced to the level of an ordinary drama suggested by 
 the opera of " La Somnambula," the answer is that this 
 
IQ2 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 is already done, and that the substitution we recommend 
 would do nothing to lower the tone of the work. 
 
 Thus, though the play is interesting and successful, 
 and needs only slight alterations to obtain a success equal 
 to that of its author's former dramas, it is disappointing 
 from the standpoint of Mr. Collins's previous accomplish- 
 ment. The only other fault we are inclined to find is, that 
 some of the characters undergo a distinct process of de- 
 terioration. Rachel Verinder, Betteredge, and Penelope 
 remain pretty much the same as they appear in the book, 
 though Betteredge has lost his habit of referring every- 
 thing to " Robinson Crusoe," after the fashion formerly 
 adopted in the Sortes Homericae or Virgilianae. Rosanna 
 Spearman, like the three Indians, has entirely disappeared. 
 Franklin Blake seems at first a heartless adventurer, his 
 anxiety to espouse the heiress at a time when he is 
 absolutely penniless exposing him to the worst suspicion. 
 Godfrey Ablewhite becomes a species of transparent hypo- 
 crite, and Miss Clack's sanctimony and meddlesomeness, 
 seen from without and not from within, are far less telling. 
 Some strong situations are obtained, the ablest being 
 that when the hero is openly taxed with theft by the 
 woman he loves. The play is curiously conformable to 
 old ideas, the unities of time and place being rigorously 
 observed. The action thus passes in one scene, the break- 
 fast-room in the house of Miss Verinder, and the entire 
 time it occupies is little more than twenty-four hours. A 
 respectable interpretation was afforded. Mr. Neville 
 marked with distinctness the different phases of shame 
 and indignation through which the hero passed, and was, 
 as he always is, manly and effective. Miss Pateman 
 showed much force and breadth of style as Rachel. It is to 
 be regretted that her costume suggested burlesque rather 
 than serious drama. A lady appearing at breakfast time in 
 her own house in a dress with a train extending half way 
 across the stage is an almost unpardonable absurdity. Mr. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Hill was Betteredgc, a part thoroughly fitted to him ; Mr. 
 Pateman Mr. Candy, Mr. Harcourt Able-white, and Mr. 
 Swinbourn Sergeant Cuff. The interpretation of these 
 characters was competent, without being in any respect 
 remarkable. 
 
 IN his new comedy of " Engaged," Mr. Gilbert is on Oct. 13, 1877. 
 familiar ground. Though no fairy influence or agency 
 surrounds his characters or prompts their actions, the 
 world in which they move is a region of pure fantasy. 
 The idea on which the superstructure rests is kindred to 
 that which forms the basis of " The Palace of Truth ". 
 Each of the various personages he presents is compelled 
 by some mysterious agency to reveal whatever is base in 
 his nature. That species of mental reserve which under- 
 lies and qualifies our actions is here brought forward, and 
 our deeds are read by the light of our unconscious avowals. 
 As no one is shocked by the display of folly or meanness 
 on the part of others, and as all seem to pride themselves 
 on their candour, and to anticipate a favourable construc- 
 tion for their actions, the world, though nominally the 
 Scottish border in the first act, and London in the two 
 acts which follow, is, in fact, fairyland. Mr. Gilbert's 
 satire is strong and trenchant. Its obvious butt is less 
 the intrinsic baseness of human nature than the falsehood 
 of our social pretences. The one, in truth, includes the 
 other. None except beings influenced by poor and pitiful 
 motives would seek to present themselves to the world as 
 other than they are, and the prolonged existence of social 
 shams affords proof how weak is the society in which they 
 pass current. It is principally by implication, however, 
 that Mr. Gilbert attacks human nature in general. What 
 he seeks to do is to supply the kind of reservation we uncon- 
 sciously place upon our gifts. A man offers a distressed 
 and defenceless woman his assistance. He does not, 
 however, mean in so doing to be out of pocket by his 
 
 13 
 
194 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 chivalry. Mr. Gilbert makes him speak his full thought. 
 " Count upon an}/ assistance, madam, short of pecuniary 
 aid, that I am able to offer." The woman proclaims the 
 passion she feels for her lover, and will be his through time 
 and eternity, if he will give her the home and the comforts 
 she regards as indispensable to her position. With equal 
 frankness every character unburdens his mind, the result 
 being to afford a picture of humanity more cynical than 
 has perhaps been painted since the days of Swift. 
 
 It might almost be said, borrowing an illustration from 
 Coleridge, that Mr. Gilbert is the soul of Aristophanes 
 habitans in sicco. He is as remorseless as the Greek 
 satirist in the application to our sham virtues of the tests 
 which separate the component parts and precipitate the 
 hidden vice. He has, however, no purpose beyond pro- 
 voking our laughter. That there is no such political 
 significance in the satire as animates the defender of the 
 Athenian republic may be attributed, in part, to changed 
 conditions. There appears, however, to be in Mr. Gilbert 
 no moral aim whatever. The lesson, if any, to be ex- 
 tracted from his plays is, that our nature is too pitiful to 
 be redeemed, and that it is mere waste of time to sow the 
 seed of virtue or improvement in a soil unfitted to receive 
 it. In this respect he is less like Aristophanes than Swift. 
 These things are not mentioned in condemnation of Mr. 
 Gilbert or of his method, but in simple explanation. It 
 is, of course, impossible, in dealing with characters every 
 one of whom is despicable, to count on the slightest mani- 
 festation of sympathy from the audience. The experiment 
 has rarely, if ever before, been made of supplying a drama 
 in three acts in which there is not a single human being 
 who does not proclaim himself absolutely detestable. In 
 the present instance it has been made, and it is a success. 
 So witty is the treatment that the piece, to those who are 
 prepared to accept the author's standpoint, is one of the 
 most mirthful and original that has, during late years, 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 1 95 
 
 been seen on the stage. In using the term " original " we 
 may make a slight exception : Mr. Gilbert has stolen from 
 no one except himself. In the character of Azema in 
 " The Palace of Truth " he has worked to a certain extent 
 the vein he now again explores. 
 
 In his exponents he has been fairly happy. Mr. 
 Honey, who plays the hero, is unsuited to the part. Miss 
 Marion Terry's acting is, however, in its unconsciousness, 
 the perfection of burlesque, and Miss Buckstone, Miss 
 Julia Stewart, Mr. Howe, Mr. Dewar, and Mr. Kyrle 
 realise fully the characters assigned them. 
 
 ACCORDING to a rumour, the source of which we are 
 unable to trace, the new play of Lord Lytton, which was 
 produced on Saturday last, belongs, in the order of its 
 composition, to a period between the production of 
 " Money " and that of " Not so Bad as We Seem ". Four 
 acts were finished, and then the author, unable, we may 
 assume, to extricate his characters satisfactorily from the 
 position in which they were placed, or not quite satisfied 
 with the progress of the work so far as it had proceeded, 
 laid it on one side, never to recommence it. A fifth act 
 has now been supplied by Mr. Charles Coghlan, and the 
 play has been produced with success at the Court. It is 
 worthy of its author's reputation, and bears strong traces 
 of his facile style of workmanship. The characters are 
 familiar types, with that slight infusion of caricature which 
 in comedy seems an advantage. They are thoroughly 
 conventional, and yet highly effective. The dialogue is 
 cynical and clever, but artificial, and the story is ingenious 
 in construction without being original. As its faults are 
 of a class that only interfere with its literary value, " The 
 House of Darnley " is a distinct success. The story is that 
 of a wife whose husband, wholly occupied in the task of 
 making a fortune of most bubble-like brilliancy and 
 
196 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 frailty, leaves her to herself, and so exposes her to the 
 wooing of a too gallant and amorous cousin. Though 
 innocent enough to compromise herself without knowing 
 what she is doing, Lady Juliet Darnley is fond of her 
 husband and child, and proof against the specious argu- 
 ments of the would-be Lothario. It needs, accordingly, 
 the intrusion of jealousy to bring matters to a crisis. 
 Mortified at the contempt with which he has been treated 
 by Darnley, who has been content by means of an apologue 
 to show his wife the true character of her cousin, and has 
 then left them together, Sir Francis Marsden tells Lady 
 Juliet that the secret of her husband's aplomb is indiffer- 
 ence, and gives her an address at which he tells her she 
 will find his mistress. Her inquiries convince her that 
 the accusation is well founded, and, after quitting her 
 husband's roof for that of her father, the heroine seems 
 rather disposed to avail herself of the form of revenge 
 suggested to her by her cousin. Her lover is seen by 
 Darnley at her feet, and the reconciliation, which has, of 
 course, been inevitable from the first, is delayed. It 
 comes when the wife finds that Darnley has been occupied 
 in a task of mercy instead of an intrigue. An underplot, 
 with even less originality than the main story, is connected 
 with it. In this a young lady, compelled by her father's 
 will to marry a man she dislikes or, by her refusal, to 
 forfeit her fortune, tries through five acts to disgust him 
 and make him accept a responsibility of breaking the 
 engagement from which she shrinks. In pursuit of this 
 object she appears in turn as a precisian and a hoyden. 
 
 Rather roughly fitted to the original is the head or 
 the tail Mr. Coghlan has supplied. How careless is the 
 workmanship, and how the action is arrested rather than 
 completed, is clearly shown in the conduct of this under- 
 plot. Mr. Coghlan found to his hand a too persevering 
 suitor, whose reluctance to wed a girl wholly unsuited 
 to his tastes, manifested through four acts, has always 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 197 
 
 yielded to his interest and his indisposition to sacrifice a 
 large sum of money dependent on his marriage. The way 
 he has treated him has been to make him change his 
 mind. Nothing, surely, could be more simple. He has, 
 moreover, brought him nearer to the lady by putting into 
 his mouth slang expressions, of which the man as con- 
 ceived by Lord Lytton was wholly incapable. The 
 manner of declining the honour of an alliance with Miss 
 Placid consists in the utterance of the phrase, " Not if I 
 know it ". Here is a complete shirking of the responsi- 
 bility of the work Mr. Coghlan has undertaken and an 
 abandonment of the author's conception. Not much 
 more successfully is the main action finished. The task 
 undertaken, however, by Mr. Coghlan is, it must be con- 
 fessed, of some difficulty. 
 
 To deal with the play as a whole, its chief fault is want 
 of originality. When she tries to disgust her suitor, Miss 
 Placid indulges in a rhapsody upon hunting which has 
 been twice anticipated, first in the " Love Chase " and 
 again in " London Assurance ". The scene in which the 
 husband holds up the lover to scorn and then leaves him 
 with his wife has been given in " Love in a Maze," and 
 the whole situation between le mari, la femme, et Vamant 
 is as familiar as it can be. 
 
 Some of the characters are well-known stage types. 
 The rich and energetic banker who is always on the verge 
 of bankruptcy, and who, by writing a few letters, gets 
 money enough to uphold the fortunes of a sinking house, 
 puts in a constant appearance on the stage. Sir Francis 
 is a commonplace seducer, and the woman to whom is 
 due complete revelation of his baseness is an equally 
 commonplace victim. Fyshe, a cold-blooded character ; 
 does not differ greatly from Dudley Smooth ; and Main- 
 waring, a species of chorus to the action, is an English 
 equivalent to Desgenais, in " Les Filles de Marbre ". 
 With all its faults on its head, " The House of Darnley " 
 
198 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 is an effective comedy, and is a good specimen of Lord 
 Lytton's powers. It is well mounted and is acted in 
 capital style, so far as the chief characters are concerned, 
 and with much ensemble. Miss Ellen Terry presented 
 gracefully the heroine, and was supremely touching in 
 the stronger scenes. Mr. Kelly displayed as the hero 
 more power than he has previously exhibited. Mr. 
 Hare and Mr. Bishop, with other members of the 
 company, were good in various types of eccentricity, 
 and the performance and the mounting were creditable 
 to all concerned. 
 
 Jan. 19, 1878. IF in his drama of " Patrie " M. Sardou shows how 
 valuable accessories to the playwright are the life and 
 colour of past ages, the bustle of war, and the splendour of 
 gmm-mediaeval pageantry, he proves in " Dora " that 
 modern existence, in spite of its placid exterior, is at 
 bottom as stirring as that of more picturesque epochs. In 
 the earlier and, on the whole, the greater work, he adds 
 one more to the long list of romantic plays the present 
 century has witnessed since the outbreak of literary 
 fervour in France which established that country in the 
 position of dramatic supremacy she at present enjoys. In 
 the later, he gives to the stage the most powerful comedy 
 of modern life that has yet been seen, and vindicates the 
 fitness of existing society for the highest purposes of the 
 dramatist. Though the most skilful as well as the most 
 fervid and prolific of modern playwrights, M. Sardou has 
 not yet passed out of the stage in which the influence of 
 previous models asserts itself. As clearly as we can trace 
 the source of inspiration in " Patrie " to M. Victor Hugo 
 and the elder Dumas, or follow 7 out what " Nos Intimes " 
 or " Nos Bons Villageois " owes to 'the comedy of Barriere, 
 can we trace the influence of Scribe in " Dora ". This is, 
 in some respects, a recurrence to an early style of its 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 1 99 
 
 author, some of whose youthful productions belong to the 
 same school. In saying this we do not wish to detract 
 from the merit of M. Sardou, who has outbraved much 
 opposition, and has set his foot resolutely on the ladder 
 leading to Olympus. While admitting, however, that 
 " Dora " is a work of which, in its class, any dramatist 
 might be proud, we cannot shut our eyes to the fact that 
 the framework of its story is such exactly as Scribe was 
 accustomed to construct, and the means that lead to 
 the discovery that brings about the denotement, viz., the 
 traces of a peculiar scent which a lady carries about with 
 her, have just that element of artifice with which the 
 comedy of Scribe was commonly and justly reproached. 
 
 In its English dress of " Diplomacy," M. Sardou's 
 work moves easily enough. The adaptors have discharged 
 their task competently, and have produced a play which, 
 while it is suited to English requirements, is not less 
 dramatic, less sympathetic, nor less powerful than the 
 original. It might be maintained, indeed, that one at least 
 of the alterations that have been made is an improvement. 
 The success of the performance was complete ; the hold 
 of the drama upon the audience was never relaxed, and 
 the stronger situations provoked loud outbursts, of applause. 
 It is satisfactory to add that the interpretation was worthy 
 of the play. With a strangely novel sensation, and with 
 a doubt whether we shall be believed to be speaking 
 seriously, we yet affirm that the representation is as good 
 as that which was seen a year ago at the Vaudeville, 
 though the cast on the occasion last named included such 
 artists as Mdlle. Blanche Pierson, Madame Alexis, MM. 
 Parade, Pierre Berton, Dieudonne, and Train. So much 
 may be accomplished with artists of no special gifts when 
 a stage representation is treated seriously as art, and when 
 the public is invited to a performance and not to a re- 
 hearsal. The story of " Diplomacy " deals with the ad- 
 ventures of a young Englishman who marries for love a 
 
200 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 woman of dubious origin, and finds thrust upon him the 
 conviction that she is a police spy in the pay of a foreign 
 country. On the very day when he, by espousing her, 
 raises her from a position of poverty, and almost dishonour, 
 to one of affluence, she apparently robs him of a govern- 
 ment despatch of which he is the bearer. He taxes her 
 with guilt, and moves her to indignation instead of confes- 
 sion. In the end, by the aid of his brother, who is Secre- 
 tary to the British Embassy at Paris, the mystery is cleared 
 up, and the crime is traced to a rival of the heroine. 
 
 The first act of the English version, which includes 
 two acts of the original, does little more than show the 
 relations of the characters to each other, and prove to the 
 audience how unpromising is the position from which the 
 heroine is withdrawn. This act was found tedious by the 
 audience. It would scarcely be so, however, where know- 
 ledge of the exigencies of art prevails and fair scope is 
 accorded the dramatist to marshal his forces. Act the 
 second contains the scene the strongest in the play in 
 which the hero is first startled by the production of what 
 seem to be proofs of his wife's guilt. That which follows 
 is occupied with the interview between husband and wife 
 which ends in their separation ; and the concluding act 
 shows the clearing up of what has been mysterious, and 
 the reunion of the couple. 
 
 Three changes of importance are made. The first is 
 an omission. A scene in which the heroine receives dis- 
 honouring proposals from a certain Stramir is described in 
 narrative instead of in action. The man to whom the dis- 
 covery of the true criminal is ascribable is the brother of 
 the hero, instead of being a friend. He is also presented 
 as a much more serious character. In the concluding 
 scenes some sympathy is elicited for the woman whose 
 disloyal and nefarious action is the cause of the catastrophe. 
 These alterations are but a portion of those that are made. 
 They are, however, typical. The first is regrettable, but is 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 2OI 
 
 indispensable if the play is to be reduced into four acts ; 
 the second strengthens the morale of the piece as well as 
 its interest ; the third is wrong, and is a concession to 
 English weakness. Remarkable tact has been shown in 
 the general task of adaptation, and the central figures are 
 thoroughly and characteristically English. 
 
 Mr. Kendal revealed as Capt. Beauclerc, the hero, an 
 amount of force that he has not previously displayed, and 
 carried off the honours of the evening. Mrs. Kendal 
 played Dora in her best manner, and realised fully the 
 mingled humiliation and indignation beneath which the 
 wTonged wife is crushed. Mr. Clayton as Mr. Beauclerc 
 was excellent, conveying always the idea of restrained 
 force, and never for a moment forgetting his attitude of 
 guardian of his brother's interests. Such instances of 
 abnegation are rare on our stage. It is, however, in the 
 series of smaller pictures that are presented the chief 
 excellence of the play is found. None of these characters 
 has, perhaps, any distinctly marked originality, yet all are 
 good in their way. These were in every case fully realised. 
 Mrs. Bancroft's Comtesse Zicka, the abstractor of the 
 missing papers, was a capital picture in a line altogether 
 unlike any in which the actress has previously been seen. 
 Mr. Arthur Cecil's Baron Stein, a Russo-Teutonic spy and 
 police-agent, was a capital picture. Not less good were 
 the Count Orloff of Mr. Bancroft, the Algie Fairfax of Mr. 
 Sugden, Miss Lethiere's Marquise de Rio-Zares, Miss 
 Lamartine's Lady Henry Fairfax, and Miss Ida Hertz's 
 Mion, a French maid. Each part was good in itself, and 
 the whole was admirable in ensemble. The success that 
 has been obtained is creditable in the highest degree to 
 all concerned. 
 
 MR. BYRON'S pieces are the delight of the public, and Jan. 26, 1878. 
 the despair of the critic. They cannot be said to be 
 
202 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 wholly without merit, while they answer the end for 
 which they were written, and are all but invariably suc- 
 cessful and remunerative. It is difficult, however, to see 
 in what respect they approach art, or what single quality in 
 them gives them a claim to serious attention. What has 
 been said with comparatively little show of reason of Mr. 
 Gilbert's " Engaged " holds true of Mr. Byron's comedies 
 and comic dramas. They are burlesques in modern dress. 
 The same jokes that are employed to season a travesty of 
 some romantic legend constitute the comic dialogue of a 
 drama of real life, and reason and probability are as com- 
 pletely scouted by a gentleman of the day in irreproachable 
 costume as they are by a sham Hamlet or a mock Julius 
 Caesar. Not a pretence is made of assigning to a cha- 
 racter any individuality. A hero of Mr. Byron's may be 
 a baronet, a barrister, an officer, or whatever Mr. Byron 
 may choose to dub him. It is the same individual, what- 
 ever he may be called. What, then, is the reason, since 
 some reason must exist, why Mr. Byron's pieces have 
 been the most successful of recent days ? Their principal 
 recommendation to the public consists in the fact that 
 they overflow with animal spirits. They have a certain 
 measure of domestic interest. The situations in which 
 Mr. Byron places his heroes are natural and conceivable, 
 though the actions he represents them as committing are 
 extravagant and farcical. Add to this that the public has 
 got into a way of listening for Mr. Byron's puns and ap- 
 plauding them, whether they are good, bad, or indifferent, 
 and the only assignable causes of popularity are revealed. 
 " A Fool and his Money," as the new play is not too appro- 
 priately entitled, differs in no important respect from a 
 score of previous works from the same source. Its hero 
 is a confidential servant who finds himself, through the 
 will of a deceased master, the owner of a large property. 
 Here is a natural and conceivable opening, and those who 
 know the use Mr. Toole will make of such opportunities 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 203 
 
 as are afforded him can see how much diversion may be 
 afforded in the course of the piece. There is, however, 
 an effort after a species of serious interest. Percival 
 Ransome, the youth whom an absurd will of his uncle 
 has deprived of estates now in the possession of the 
 ex-butler, when he finds himself penniless, becomes in 
 turn the servant to the man who has supplanted him, 
 runs his errands, puts coal on the fire at his bidding, and 
 performs other menial tasks. Not wholly for the sake of 
 the income attached to the post does the youth undertake 
 these unworthy functions. A girl he loves is coming to 
 stay in the house, and sooner than miss seeing her he will 
 present himself to her as a servant. Now love has made 
 a man do more foolish things than disguise himself as a 
 footman. It was while personating a waiter at an hotel 
 that Christopher North won his bride. There is a differ- 
 ence, however, between pretending to be a servant and 
 becoming one in reality. No man educated as a gentle- 
 man will place himself in a position of the kind. The 
 moment, accordingly, a man is presented as doing this, the 
 piece becomes farce. Farce accordingly "A Fool and his 
 Money " must be pronounced. A way out of the position 
 into which Mr. Byron has got his characters is found by 
 upsetting the will on account of the mental incapacity of 
 the testator. This arrangement seems to please rather than 
 otherwise the man it dispossesses, \vhose negligence con- 
 cerning his own affairs has been such he does not appear 
 aw^re that the action by which he is denuded of his pro- 
 perty has even commenced. Mr. Toole acted the hero of 
 the piece with his usual drollery, and Mr. Righton pre- 
 sented well a pompous and not too scrupulous old gentle- 
 man. 
 
 REPRESENTATIONS of Shakspearian comedy have not Feb. 9, 1878. 
 seldom erred on the side of being broadly farcical. There 
 are certain plays, indeed, such as " The Taming of the 
 
204 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Shrew," "The Comedy of Errors," and "Twelfth Night," 
 in which grace and beauty are ordinarily subordinated to 
 excessive and preposterous fooling. All that can be said 
 in defence of this system is that it is probably as old as 
 Shakspeare. It is easy to imagine with what contempt 
 for the " barren spectators " Shakspeare saw the very 
 motive of " The Taming of the Shrew " destroyed by the 
 absurd and preposterous business which had to be intro- 
 duced to secure their approval. Once indeed, in Hamlet's 
 advice to the players, he speaks his mind concerning the 
 clowns who speak more than is set down for them : 
 " That's villainous, and shows a most pitiful ambition in 
 the fool that uses it ". It is almost certain that the fool- 
 ing still in use in the " Twelfth Night " dates back to the 
 time of the Restoration. So many of the actors had died 
 during the period of civil war, some of wounds received in 
 fighting for the king, the rest from other causes, and so 
 many had entirely withdrawn from the stage, that when, 
 in 1660, the remains of the former companies reassembled 
 at the Red Bull, under the management of Thomas Killi- 
 grew, they were scarcely enough in number to impose 
 laws upon their new associates. It is easy to believe, 
 however, that the anachronisms in the representation of 
 " Twelfth Night " on which critics have often dwelt are 
 as ancient as the play itself. The dramatist who peopled 
 Illyria with characters so thoroughly English as Sir 
 Andrew Aguecheek and Sir Toby Belch is not likely to 
 have been disturbed concerning the kind of tobacco pipes 
 which were placed in their hands. 
 
 The fact that an abuse may be as old as Shakspeare 
 affords no reason why it should be tolerated. That a 
 certain thing in a presentation of Shakspearian comedy is 
 an anachronism will not, however, move the wrath of any 
 critic who takes a common-sense view of the question of 
 theatrical representations. The real objection to the kind 
 of business preserved in the " Twelfth Night," in the 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 205 
 
 scenes between the two drunken knights, is that it is 
 preposterous, unnatural, inartistic, and wholly out of 
 keeping with the general scope of the play. In the repre- 
 sentation with which we are now occupied the characters 
 of the two knights were not, indeed, presented, Sir Toby 
 Belch being replaced by Sir John Falstaff, and Sir Andrew 
 Aguecheek appearing as Slender. In the part of the 
 Clown the traditions of Tarlton or of Green are probably 
 preserved. We have lost, however, the music, and the 
 catch that was to " waken the night-owl " is now likely 
 to conduce to sleep rather than wakefulness on the part 
 of any creature less nocturnal in its habits. The farcical 
 business customary in " Twelfth Night " is, indeed, 
 thoroughly contemptible. 
 
 The more serious and imaginative portions of the play 
 are fairly presented at the Haymarket. There are two 
 conceptions of the character of Viola, either of which is 
 defensible. There is the sentimental view, which links 
 the character with Bellario or Euphrasia in the " Phi- 
 laster " of Beaumont and Fletcher and other similar 
 personages of the early drama, and there is the more 
 realistic view, which makes her assumption of masculine 
 attire something of a madcap freak. The latter view is 
 that taken by Miss Neilson. It is fully borne out by the 
 text. Viola falls in love with the Duke in the three 
 months during which she is his confidante and messenger. 
 It is absurd to suppose that love for a man she has never 
 seen could have led her to the first assumption of mascu- 
 line attire. The words, moreover, spoken to her by Olivia 
 show that she put on with Rosalind " a swashing and a 
 martial outside ". Olivia charges her with having been 
 saucy, and tells her she "began rudely". Viola's address 
 to Maria, " No, good swabber, I am to hull here a little 
 longer," affords no especial proof of timidity of demeanour. 
 It is only, then, in her graver moments, and when in pre- 
 sence of her lord, that Viola shows the sentimental aspect 
 
206 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 of her character. Like the Di Vernon of Scott, she can 
 melt into tenderness, but her general mood is one of 
 almost saucy defiance. Miss Neilson presents this cha- 
 racter to the life. She has every physical qualification 
 for the part, and looks surprisingly attractive in her Greek 
 costume. She enjoys thoroughly the confusion her 
 assumption of manly dress creates, and her delight when 
 she finds herself taken for a man by Olivia is infectious. 
 Not less happy is she in the more serious passages, the 
 grace and delicacy of the play being, so far as the scenes 
 in which she appears are concerned, fully preserved. 
 Thus, though the impersonation may not compare with 
 the Juliet or even with the Rosalind of the same actress, 
 it is distinctly worthy of her reputation, both as regards 
 insight and expository ability. Mr. Conway was excellent 
 as Sebastian, and Mr. Kyrle scarcely less good as the 
 Duke. The Maria of Miss Kate Phillips was also satis- 
 factory. Miss Ernstone as Olivia, and Mr. Howe as Mal- 
 volio, are two good actors wholly out of place. 
 
 Mar. 2, 1878. THE success of Mr. Gilbert's plays has kept alive the 
 faith of those who "against hope" have hoped in the 
 future of the English drama. That one of them should 
 collapse in representation would, a week ago, have seemed 
 scarcely conceivable. A barren success has before now 
 been their fate, for the public to which the best appeal is 
 limited, since no small section of the world, and even of 
 the educated world, has no comprehension of humour. It 
 is, indeed, amusing to hear the kind of comment provoked 
 from matter-of-fact people by the success of such pieces as 
 " Pygmalion and Galatea" or "Engaged". Until Mon- 
 day last, however, Mr. Gilbert could console himself with 
 the thought that the public he sought to please had de- 
 rived a gratification from his work all the more acute on 
 account of the conditions under which it was won, and 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 2OJ 
 
 the clamour from certain quarters with which it was ac- 
 companied. " The Ne'er-do-Weel " failed to please the 
 strongest admirers of Mr. Gilbert's art, and roused to a 
 display of absolute animosity that first-night public which 
 has hitherto regarded him with favour. Mr. Gilbert 
 may find consolation in the fact that the causes of his 
 non-success are easily seen, and once seen are easily 
 avoided. 
 
 Mr. Gilbert's previous good fortune has done much to 
 mislead him in the present instance. He has seen works 
 which resemble " The Ne'er-do-Weel " in important re- 
 spects obtain a hold upon the public, and he has failed to 
 perceive that two styles which are satisfactory when apart 
 may be unsatisfactory when blended. The serious interest 
 in "The Ne'er-do-Weel" is as strong as that in "En- 
 gaged," and its comic scenes are not more extravagant 
 than those in " Trial by Jury". Fun, however, which is 
 suited to a burlesque opera is of small account in a serious 
 play, and thinness of plot, while it passes unnoticed in a 
 satire, may yet prove fatal in a more ambitious work. 
 This is the plain lesson of " The Ne'er-do-Weel ". As 
 regards language and character-painting it may compare 
 with any previous work of Mr. Gilbert's. We are not 
 sure, indeed, that one of the characters it introduces, 
 Major O'Hara, is not the most genuinely comic character 
 he has yet invented. Still the story is far too wire-draw- 
 ing for a three-act play, in which the lighter scenes are 
 not self-supporting, and these, instead of being a prop to 
 the piece, proved a weight sufficient to drag it down. 
 
 In more than one instance Mr. Gilbert seems to have 
 fallen under his own spells, and to have become the slave 
 of his own work. Charming as are the love-scenes in 
 "The Ne'er-do-Weel," and they would have been suffi- 
 cient to have floated a vessel less badly freighted, they are 
 too strongly coloured with the influence of " The Palace of 
 Truth ". There are in the play three female characters, 
 
208 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 all of whom make unsolicited avowal of love. Circum- 
 stances diminish in each case the importance of this 
 action, still, there it is. Miss Parminter, an old maid, 
 makes direct love to two, if not three, characters. Jessie 
 O'Hara, a timid little maiden, tells her love to Gerard 
 Seton, who had never done more than make himself her 
 confidant ; and Maud Callender, the heroine, avows her 
 enduring affection for a man who has, indeed, previously 
 been affianced to her, but who is, at that very moment, 
 pleading warmly the cause of another. Now none will 
 contest the fact that circumstances arise which make a 
 woman proclaim her love, and justify her in so doing. 
 Conditions of this kind are, moreover, exactly suited to the 
 dramatist. Still the device must not be vulgarised. Mr. 
 Gilbert has employed it with signal effect. We can recall 
 two or three delicious scenes in his plays in which, by a 
 power of which they are unconscious, women find their 
 native modesty overcome, and make frank and free exposi- 
 tion of virginal longings and scarcely formed aspirations. 
 When the force is extra-human that produces this effect 
 the most squeamish delicacy is satisfied. We do not, how- 
 ever, seek a gallery of these demonstrative heroines, and 
 feel inclined to exclaim : 
 
 The apple that melts without squeezing 
 Is rather too mellow for me. 
 
 It is doubtful whether any amount of alteration will 
 greatly benefit " The Ne'er-do-Weel". Mr. Gilbert and 
 Mr. Neville will probably do well to accept the first night's 
 verdict. The former will have no difficulty in obtaining 
 with another play an ample revenge ; the latter has pieces 
 in his repertoire that will be more remunerative than this. 
 The acting and mounting left little to desire. Mr. Neville 
 has never been seen to greater advantage than as Jeffrey 
 Rollestone, the Ne'er-do-Weel. Miss Marion Terry, Mr. 
 Anson, Mr. Forbes Robertson, and other members of the 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 209 
 
 company acquitted themselves well, and the piece would 
 have been saved if acting of any kind could have rendered 
 it attractive. 
 
 THE conclusion established by Mr. Irving's success in Mar. 16, 1878. 
 " Louis XL " is the same to which all recent experience 
 has pointed, namely, that what is known as character 
 acting has definitely established its supremacy in England 
 upon the ruins of tragic art. Putting on one side Mac- 
 ready, whose triumphs in such parts as Werner and 
 Virginius are already remote and scarcely remembered, 
 and dealing with the most successful actors the present 
 generation has known, we have witnessed the highest 
 honours bidden for and all but conquered by Charles 
 Kean, Mr. Phelps, and Mr. Irving. Not one of these 
 has left behind him any memories or inspired any strong 
 interest in those tragic parts in which it is the natural 
 and legitimate ambition of an actor to shine. Who speaks 
 of the Othello, or the Macbeth, or the Richard, even, of 
 any actor subsequent to Edmund Kean ? Hamlet may 
 almost be considered a character part. It is because it is 
 such that no actor, according to a stage assertion, ever 
 fails in it. Turning to the actors mentioned, we ask : In 
 what roles have their reputations been most firmly esta- 
 blished ? The answer is prompt. Charles Kean is best 
 remembered as Louis XL and Mephistophiles ; Mr. Phelps 
 as Shallow and Bottom, with, perhaps, Cardinal Wolsey ; 
 while Mr. Irving, if we shut out his early career, will be 
 found to have acquired his highest triumph as Matthias 
 in "The Bells," Eugene Aram, and Louis XL 
 
 We would not discourage dramatic aspirants from 
 aiming at the most exalted success. Still the facts we 
 give are established on conclusive evidence. In Germany 
 the same thing is taking place. If German actors would 
 come here and play Shakspearian comedy they would 
 
 14 
 
2IO DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 interest the public. They bring over tragedy, and they 
 fail just as our own tragedians fail. In France, even, the 
 very home of acting, tragedy, since the appearance of 
 romantic drama, has decayed ; while in Italy such success 
 as is obtained in tragedy comes as a result of removing 
 from it the customary accessories and putting entirely on 
 one side both mask and buskin and all conventional 
 apparel. 
 
 Mr. Irving's triumph in Louis XI., the most decisive 
 he has yet won, is established most firmly in those por- 
 tions of the performance in which he recedes furthest 
 from the tragic method. The play in which he appeared 
 is but a second-class work ; but it has the strong recom- 
 mendation to an actor that it contains but one part. In 
 the days of Charles Kean it used to be said, jocosely of 
 course, that that actor wished to see his company reduced 
 to himself and a ballet. This object is nearly attained in 
 "Louis XL," where, after the principal personage has 
 once appeared, he retains possession of the stage and 
 stands in front of accessories who serve no purpose but 
 to put his figure into bolder relief. The one misfortune 
 in the play is that the character is monotonous. There 
 is nothing splendid or soldierly about Louis XL as there 
 is about Richard III. Casimir Delavigne who, as well 
 as being hide-bound in the writing of verse, was destitute 
 of invention, imitating in turns Byron in " Marino Faliero," 
 Scott in " Louis XL," Shakspeare in " Les Enfants 
 d'Edouard " and the conclusion of " Louis XL," Piron in 
 " Les Comediens," Kotzebue in "L'Ecole des Vieillards," 
 Bernardin de Saint-Pierre in " Le Paria," and Victor 
 Hugo in " La Fille du Cid " adhered too closely in the 
 play to the character of Louis as extracted by Scott from 
 Commines. Despicable as he was in many respects, 
 Louis was not the coward he is depicted. In his early 
 life he commanded armies and fought victoriously, and 
 in his later years the eagerness for life he displayed was 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 211 
 
 less a result of poltroonery than a superstitious dread of 
 what would follow death. No such agonies of remorse as 
 beset his deathbed in the play, and no such horrors as, 
 according to Webster, " wait on princes," attended in 
 fact his departure. According to Commines 
 
 Apres tant de peur, de suspicion, de douleur, Notre Seigneur fit 
 miracle sur lui, et le guerit tant de 1'ame que du corps, comme toujours a 
 accoutume en faisant ses miracles ; car il 1'osta de ce miserable monde en 
 grande sante de sens et d'entendement, et en bonne memoire, ayant re9u 
 tous ses sacrements sans souffrir douleur que 1'on connut, mais toujours 
 parlant jusqu'a une Patre Nostrc avant sa mort. . . . Et disoit que il 
 n'esperoit a mourir qu'au samedy et que Notre-Dame lui procureroit ceste 
 grace, en qui toujours avoit eu fiance et grande devotion et priere, et tout 
 ainsi, il advint ; car il deceda le samedy penultieme jour d'aout ; a huit 
 heures au soir, en repetant ces paroles : " Notre-Dame d'Embrun, ma bonne 
 maitresse, aidez moi ". 
 
 The right of the dramatist to take what view he 
 chooses of an historical character is not disputed. It 
 may, however, be doubted whether Delavigne has done 
 well in darkening further the picture already sufficiently 
 dark of Scott. It is possible, indeed, that Mr. Boucicault 
 might with advantage have taken for the basis of his play 
 not the " Louis XL" of Delavigne, which was given at the 
 Theatre Frangais on the nth February, 1832, but the 
 11 Louis XL" of M. Mely-Janin, played at the same house, 
 with not less success, five years previously, viz., the i5th 
 February, 1827. The last-named piece was extracted from 
 the novel of Scott, and dealt wholly with the captivity of 
 Louis at Peronne. Be this as it may, the fact remains 
 that the representation of " Louis XL" grows wearisome 
 towards the end, in spite of the brilliant exhibition of 
 talent made by the principal actor. 
 
 In the early acts Mr. Irving is seen to highest advan- 
 tage. The representation of the cowardly, ferocious, and 
 bigoted monarch, alternately menacing with his fierce and 
 wolfish wrath those who offend him, and coaxing and 
 cajoling those from whom he has anything to gain, is one 
 of the most carefully thought-out conceptions the modern 
 
212 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 stage has seen. If towards the close it does not inspire 
 the same interest, it is, as we have said, because the cha- 
 racter itself lacks variety, and is too constantly ignoble, 
 and because the actor in the stronger scenes relapses into 
 old and intolerable faults. The points at which he does 
 this are few. The whole death-scene is, however, ultra- 
 realistic, and belongs to that false school in art which 
 assumes that the physical agonies of dissolution are to be 
 portrayed in their naked reality. It is not to justify this 
 school to say that the highest genius of the day belongs 
 to it, and that Signora Ristori and Signer Salvini are its 
 most illustrious pupils. There are those who remember 
 actors still greater than these who could produce results 
 more powerful as well as more artistic, with no such 
 expenditure of means. There was a tremendous display of 
 power in the closing scenes of the fourth and the fifth acts. 
 These acts, however, were comparatively ineffective. In 
 earlier scenes there were no signs whatever of effort, and 
 in these the greatest and most undisputed triumph was 
 obtained. There is no need to dwell upon single blemishes 
 or shortcomings in the case of a performance like this. 
 It is pleasanter to admit frankly that, so far as concerns 
 the conception of the character, especially on its comic 
 side, it is worthy of warm praise. The laugh at once 
 senile and ferocious, the movements indicative of medita- 
 tion, and the employment of Louis's manifold resources of 
 cajolery were excellent in all respects. Very striking, 
 too, were the dramatic contrasts afforded. The pre- 
 sentation may be considered Mr. Irving's highest 
 accomplishment. 
 
 Capital support was afforded as regards the scenic 
 accessories, and the tragic and sinister surroundings of 
 the life of Louis were well shown. Much of the acting 
 was wretched, however, so deficient in spirit and life 
 that, had the chief person been less powerfully presented, 
 the success of the venture would have been compromised. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 213 
 
 IT may be doubted whether the amount of success that Mar. 30, 1878. 
 has attended Mr. Gilbert's effort to reconstruct and rewrite 
 a drama which at its first appearance failed to please the 
 public is sufficiently great to recommend the proceeding 
 to general imitation. By dexterous steering the rocks 
 that arrested former progress have been avoided, an 
 intricate channel has been threaded, and the vessel has 
 been guided into port. What is questionable is, however, 
 the worth of the salvage. For a playw r right of Mr. 
 Gilbert's fertility, a more remunerative plan would have 
 been to abandon " The Ne'er-do- Weel " as a derelict, and 
 to charter a new vessel with a fresh cargo. " The Vaga- 
 bond," as the new version is called, is a success so far as 
 the verdict of the public is concerned. It may even hope 
 to hold its place in the bills of the theatre until the 
 management is reimbursed for the outlay. It can never 
 hope, however, to occupy a place with its author's best 
 work, having neither the strength nor the shapeliness of 
 the plays by which Mr. Gilbert is known and judged. 
 
 In removing two or three comic scenes and one objec- 
 tionable character Mr. Gilbert has scarcely touched the 
 main action. So episodical were these, he has been able 
 to lop them off. He has, however, for independent reasons, 
 changed the relations of the more serious characters, and 
 has presented his hero in a more satisfactory light. In- 
 stead of yielding up to a mistaken sense of obligation the 
 woman he loves, his "vagabond " now holds to her quand 
 meme, and those who in the former piece strove to sponge 
 upon his weakness or his good nature have now to reconcile 
 themselves as best they may to his triumph. What is 
 felt, however, is that the motive thus obtained is too 
 slight for three acts. In place of the comic scenes which 
 disappear, there is now an augmented quantity of love- 
 making, which, in spite of the talent of the exponents, is 
 not quite sympathetic. The reason for this is probably 
 supplied in the fact that the fault we pointed out in " The 
 
214 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Ne'er-do-Weel," of too much of the love-making being 
 assigned the female characters, is even more apparent in 
 " The Vagabond ". So thoroughly are the ordinary 
 relations of the sexes reversed, we feel at the close of the 
 piece as if Mr, Gilbert's ironical vein had asserted itself 
 in his own despite, and a satire upon the advocates of 
 "woman's rights " had intruded into scenes the obvious 
 intention of which was sentimental. Of the love-making, 
 moreover, which does not proceed from \vomen, a consider- 
 able portion is vicarious, the result being that an impres- 
 sion of general want of manliness and healthiness is con- 
 veyed. ''The Vagabond " may accordingly be pronounced 
 an elaborate and artificial idyl of love, with a story more 
 fitted to form the basis of a masque, or some entertain- 
 ment of the class, than a comedy of real life. Such comic 
 characters as remain are improved. Captain O'Hara, 
 who, on the strength of thirty-two years spent in voyaging 
 in Arctic seas, arrogates to himself an exhaustive know- 
 ledge of human nature, and especially of feminine nature, 
 is cleverly sketched, and his efforts to deal with the 
 problems that perplex feminine bosoms are diverting. It 
 might, however, be said, without any undue amount of 
 cynicism, that the consideration for his niece's feelings 
 which underlies his clumsy attempts at diplomacy is 
 wholly uncalled for, the lady herself being burdened with 
 no superfluous delicacy in such matters. Miss Parminter 
 is also more accentuated, and correspondingly more comic. 
 Miss Brennan, the new exponent of this personage, gives 
 a rendering which is more effective, if more conventional, 
 than that previously seen. So far as regards the remaining 
 characters, the performance differs but little from that 
 formerly described. Mr. Neville appeared uncertain at 
 one or two points, and it also seemed as if some aspects 
 of the character she presented were perplexing to Miss 
 Marion Terry. Both, however, acted with sincerity and 
 capacity, that contributed largely to the success of the 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 215 
 
 entertainment. Mr. Forbes Robertson was not less satis- 
 factory than before, and Mr. Anson was more successful. 
 Miss Gerard, in a little outburst of tenderness in the first 
 act, fairly carried away the sympathies of the audience. 
 It is pardonable in so young an actress to return on the 
 stage in the middle of a scene to acknowledge the plaudits 
 bestowed upon her, but the practice is objectionable to the 
 last degree. A public with any knowledge of art would 
 not thus interfere with its own enjoyment, and an artist 
 with a due regard to her own fame would refuse obedience 
 to such a summons. This is a commonplace of criticism, 
 but frequent repetition of commonplaces does not, as ex- 
 perience shows, suffice to establish their importance. 
 
 CURIOUS proof how strong a hold upon the public has April 6, 1878. 
 been taken by Goldsmith's " Vicar of Wakefield " is 
 afforded by the fact that no less than five separate ver- 
 sions of one of the least dramatic of stories have at diffe- 
 rent times been put upon the stage. Thomas Dibdin first 
 produced, during his management of the Surrey, a burletta 
 founded upon the tale and named after it. The date of 
 this is assumably about 1820. Three years later a version 
 was given at the Haymarket, with Terry as Dr. Primrose., 
 Listen as Moses, and Mrs. Orger as Carolina Wilhelmina 
 Amelia Skeggs. In 1850 an adaptation, ascribed in the 
 acting copy to Sterling Coyne, was played at the same 
 theatre, with Mr. Webster as Dr. Primrose, Mr. Buckstone 
 as Moses, Vandenhoff as Squire Thornhill, Mr. Howe as 
 Ephraim Jenkinson, Mrs. Keeley as Mrs. Primrose, Miss 
 Reynolds as Olivia, and Miss P. Horton as Lady Blarney. _ 
 Immediately after its production, another version, by Mr. 
 Tom Taylor, was given at the Strand, the elder Farren 
 playing the Vicar, and Mrs. Stirling, if we remember 
 rightly, Olivia. This last-named piece is the same which, 
 with some alterations, has been revived at the Aquarium. 
 
2l6 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Lastly comes Mr. Wills's version of " Olivia," produced 
 at the Court. 
 
 In dealing with a work that has been so frequently 
 adapted, Mr. Wills has departed widely from his prede- 
 cessors, with the result of producing a play which, while 
 it has no pretension to be a faithful version of the original, 
 is in all dramatic and artistic respects a great advance 
 upon its predecessors. Casting on one side, with a curi- 
 ous disregard of popular associations, the adventures of 
 Moses at the fair, omitting all mention of Ephraim Jen- 
 kinson, the forerunner of a host of clever vagabonds, and 
 dealing only with the temptation, fall, and recovery of 
 Olivia, Mr. Wills has produced a touching and effective 
 play, which, in spite of its idyllic character and its mono- 
 tony of treatment, has genuine dramatic merit. Two 
 previous works run, to some extent, parallel with it : the 
 first, " L'Ami Fritz " of MM. Erckmann-Chatrian ; and 
 the second, Mr. Wills's own play of " Charles the First ". 
 The play first named it recalls in the simplicity and beauty 
 of its pictures of rustic life and homely virtues; the second 
 it resembles in the method of treatment, in which the eye 
 is called to the aid of the ear, and the story is told almost 
 as much by pictures as by dialogue. 
 
 It is at once obvious that a story such as " The Vicar 
 of Wakefield " lends itself easily to the method of treatment 
 indicated. So successful has been in this instance the 
 employment of it, a play which claims only to be founded 
 on an incident in " The Vicar of Wakefield," and is, 
 except at a few points, wholly original in dialogue, retains 
 more of the atmosphere of the story than pieces which 
 are avowedly built upon it, and reproduce textually its 
 language. 
 
 An opening act shows the vicarage, where the rustics 
 assemble, with vocal and instrumental music, to con- 
 gratulate the Primroses upon their silver wedding. 
 Everything tells of comfort and ease. Ripe apples weigh 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 2~LJ 
 
 down the overladen boughs, and are, in an exquisite scene, 
 shaken by Sophia into the lap of her admirer, Burchell. 
 The young urchins clamber furtively up the ladder, and 
 pluck the tempting fruit. A cask of beer is broached in 
 the adjoining yard, Moses superintending its distribution, 
 while Olivia, half-longingly, half-petulantly, looks down 
 the lane for her lover, who comes not. In his place come 
 tidings of ruin, brought by Farmer Flamborough, which 
 the Vicar strives vainly to keep from his family. In the 
 second act a scene more exquisite still shows Dr. Prim- 
 rose and his wife sitting over the fire, while Sophia, 
 Moses, and Mr. Burchell sing a delightful part-song to 
 the accompaniment of a spinet. Through the window we 
 catch a glimpse of the face, white, scared, and tearful, of 
 Olivia, hastening to an assignation with her lover, and 
 looking upon a scene she fears she never again may con- 
 template. A third act shows the revelation to Olivia of 
 the trick to which she has fallen victim, and her meeting 
 with her father, while a short fourth act brings the fugitive 
 home, and conducts her husband penitent to her feet. 
 How little of the original there is in this is at once obvi- 
 ous. Scarcely one of the characters is such as Goldsmith 
 conceived him. This, however, is wholly unimportant. 
 What is important is that we have a charmingly idyllic 
 play, thoroughly fresh in motive and sympathetic in treat- 
 ment. The scenes indicated, those in which Olivia takes 
 leave of her mother and her family, in which she defies 
 and repels her treacherous lover, and in which she meets 
 her father, are touching and poetical in a. high degree. 
 The language is in Mr. Wills's happiest vein, and the 
 piece is harmonious throughout. That the second act is 
 stronger than the third, which in turn is stronger than the 
 fourth, shows that "Olivia " is rather a poetical play than a 
 well-constructed drama. It is possible to improve greatly 
 the second act by concluding it with the picture, previously 
 described, of Olivia gazing through the window. An 
 
2l8 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 audience such as can enjoy the piece will experience no 
 difficulty in imagining the scene which follows the detec- 
 tion of Olivia's flight. By some acceleration of the action 
 this, indeed, might come upon the picture. 
 
 So much pains have been bestowed upon the mounting 
 and interpretation, that both stand out conspicuous in 
 modern art. The scenery and dresses, the latter designed 
 by Mr. Marcus Stone, are admirable in every respect, 
 while the ensemble is so good that, for the first time in our 
 recollection upon an English stage, we see actors and 
 supernumeraries taking intelligent cognisance of what is 
 going on before them or showing in their actions the 
 individuality belonging to the characters they play. 
 In the principal characters the performance was emi-. 
 nently satisfactory. Miss Terry was altogether lifelike 
 as Olivia, and much of her business was extremely 
 natural and touching. It was full of suggestion, and 
 in one point at least, when she repelled the further 
 advances of the man who had wronged her, it touched 
 absolute greatness. Mr. Vezin's Vicar of Wakefield had 
 none of the unction of the character as seen in Goldsmith, 
 but was a full realisation of that imagined by Mr. Wills. 
 In intelligence the rendering was up to Mr. Vezin's level ; 
 in intensity it surpassed anything he has exhibited. A 
 scene in the third act, in which the father, commencing 
 to reprimand, bursts into tears and embraces his daughter, 
 was quite admirable. The Moses of Mr. Norman Forbes, 
 the Squire Thornhill of Mr. Terriss, and the Leigh of Mr. 
 Denison were deserving of high praise. 
 
 THE version of " The Vicar of Wakefield " given at the 
 Aquarium seems coarse beside Mr. Wills's workmanship. 
 It gives, however, a good idea of the original, and is fairly 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 2 19 
 
 entertaining. Mr. Farren's Vicar is strong in parts, 
 though it is not the Vicar of Oliver Goldsmith. On the 
 other hand, the Mrs. Primrose of Mrs. Sterling is to the 
 life the fussy, vain, managing woman described. Miss 
 M. Litton plays with much feeling as Olivia, and Mr. 
 Emery as Jenkinson, Mr. Day as Moses, Mr. Edgar as 
 Burchell, and Mr. Conway as the Squire make up a cast of 
 great interest. 
 
 Miss NEILSON'S performance of Juliet has altered in 
 some important respects. The early scenes are less 
 accentuated than before, the whole dialogue of the balcony 
 scene being delivered with the bated breath natural under 
 the circumstances, when detection means the death of her 
 lover. This is something more than a concession to 
 realism, since there is a distinct gain to the entire per- 
 formance from the heightened contrast thus obtained 
 between separate portions of the representation. It has 
 long been an assumption on the part of actors that they 
 are allowed, at the time they are most anxious to escape 
 observation, to express passion in tones that could not 
 fail to arouse it. Without entering on the question how 
 far this conventional treatment is to be defended, it may 
 be said that a more natural method is in the present case 
 of highest advantage. The poetry and fragrance of the 
 balcony scene are greatly enhanced. The general render- 
 ing of Juliet retains its former characteristics of intensity 
 and passion to a degree that leaves it unapproached on 
 the modern English stage. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Royalty: "Nell Gwynne," comedy in four acts by W. G. 
 Wills. Princess's: " Elfinella" comedy in four acts by 
 Ross Neil ; " Vanderdeckun" drama in four acts by W. 
 S. Wills and Percy Fitzgerald. Olympic: "Love or 
 Life" drama in three acts by Tom Taylor and Paul 
 Mezitt. Haymarket: "The Hornet's Nest" comedy in 
 four acts by Henry J. Byron ; " Conscience Money," 
 play in three acts by Henry J-. Byron. Folly : " The 
 Idol," comedy in three acts by Charles Wyndham. 
 Drury Lane : " The Winter's Tale ".Aquarium : 
 " The Liar " ; " Grandfather Whitehead ".Lyceum : 
 " Hamlet ". Olympic : " Gretchen," drama in four 
 acts by W. S. Gilbert. 
 
 May 4, 1878. AMONG those pictures drawn by Pepys in his Diary 
 which, better almost than the paintings of Sir Peter Lely, 
 convey to us an idea of the court of Charles the Second, 
 none is more lifelike than that of Nell Gwynne. Whether 
 he sees her " standing at her lodgings' door in Drury Lane 
 in her smock sleeves and bodice looking upon one," or 
 with another equally " bold merry slut " sitting in the box 
 at the " King's playhouse" and ''laughing there upon 
 people," Pepys remains enamoured of Nell Gwynne, and 
 finds her always a " mighty pretty creature ". Recollec- 
 tions of the kiss she bestowed upon him in the green-room 
 of the theatre, in the presence, be it remembered, of his 
 wife, seem to have coloured all his thoughts concerning 
 
 (220) 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 221 
 
 her. From Pepys Mr. Wills has apparently taken his 
 play. He has given the madcap heroine a certain mea- 
 sure of sympathy, by making her urge on the King measures 
 calculated to augment his own dignity or afford his subjects 
 relief. In other respects he has left Nell as Pepys has de- 
 scribed her, and he has kept the diarist close at her elbow 
 to chronicle her doings. 
 
 The plot of "Nell Gwynne " is, of course, fictitious. 
 In Pepys, however, may be found the separate incidents 
 which Mr. Wills has welded together the influence of 
 Nelly over the King, Buckingham's treachery and confes- 
 sion, and the anger of Nell's actor lover when Lord Buck- 
 hurst, as the forerunner of royalty, deprives him of her 
 favours. For this actor, Hart, Mr. Wills has substituted 
 an imaginary character, one George Selwyn, whose at- 
 tachment to Nell is supposed long to survive her accept- 
 ance of royal bounty. Lord Buckhurst of course dis- 
 appears. By combining with Buckingham's conspiracy 
 an attempt on his part to bring shame on Nell, and with 
 it her banishment from court, wherein she keeps a sharp- 
 witted and intelligent watch over the King's safety, Mr. 
 Wills has fabricated a fairly effective plot. His means 
 are commonplace enough, turning, as in the early comedy 
 of Scribe, upon people putting letters into wrong en- 
 velopes, and the like. The result is, however, a success, 
 a bright and taking comedy of intrigue being obtained. 
 In this is much witty and highly effective dialogue. 
 There are redundancies to be lopped, and other faults to- 
 be remedied. As a whole, however, " Nell Gwynne " is 
 worthy of Mr. Wills's reputation, and may rank as high 
 accomplishment. Miss Fowler grasped thoroughly the 
 character of Nell Gwynne, and gave it with remarkable 
 archness of manner and artistic feeling. In appearance 
 and in the way in which she depicted each changing 
 mood of one who might have been a goddess of caprice, 
 Miss Fowler was equally excellent. Mr. Leathes was. 
 
222 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 King Charles the Second ; Mr. Vaughan, Buckingham ; Mr. 
 Vollaire, Pepys ; Mr. Brooke, Seluyn ; and Mr. Carne, Sir 
 Peter Lely. 
 
 June 15, 1878. IN language which is fairly vigorous and appropriate, 
 but has no special claim to poetical beauty, Mr. Ross Neil 
 tells in " Elfinella " a tender and not undramatic story. 
 The lesson he teaches is that sorrow and death, which 
 men regard as the curses of life, are blessings in disguise, 
 and that a joyous immortality, such as is attributed to 
 fairies, may be profitably exchanged for the brief life of 
 mortals, glorified as this is by love, and crowned by 
 death, the commencement of new and more vigorous 
 life. Rarely before has it occurred to any poet to regard 
 human and fairy natures from this standpoint. According 
 to previous assumption the fairies sought before all things 
 to free the changelings from traces of earth, dipping them, 
 according to Beaumont and Fletcher, "in virtuous wells," 
 for the purpose of setting them 
 
 Free 
 
 From dying flesh and dull mortality. 
 
 Gay makes a fairy protest against the very theory of 
 changelings, and asks : 
 
 Whence sprang the vain conceited lie 
 That we the world with fools supply ? 
 What ! give our sprightly race away 
 For the dull helpless sons of clay ! 
 Besides, by partial fondness shown, 
 Like you we dote upon our own. 
 Wherever yet was found a mother 
 Would give her booby for another ? 
 And should we change with human breed, 
 Well might we pass for fools indeed. 
 
 An experiment not wholly unlike that Mr. Ross Neil 
 has conducted to a successful termination has also been 
 undertaken by George Sand, in " Le Drac," a dramatic 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 223 
 
 story founded on a Proven9al belief, and included in the 
 " Theatre de Nohant ". The " Drac " is a species of sea 
 deity, a marine Puck. Smitten with love for a peasant 
 girl, he quits his home and takes the shape of a lad who 
 has been drowned. Under this disguise he makes love to 
 the heroine, and is rejected by her in favour of another 
 lover. At first he punishes her. Gradually, however, he 
 is won to the knowledge that the triumph of love consists 
 in self-abnegation. Through the agency of love he is so 
 purified as to win back his fairy virtue, which the associa- 
 tion with humanity involved in assuming a mortal shape 
 had clouded. 
 
 It is paying Mr. Ross Neil high praise to say that his 
 story is as delicate and fragrant as that of George Sand. 
 It is, moreover, even more dramatic. There is something 
 very attractive in the contemplation of a creature such as 
 the heroine, who, like the Galatea of Mr. Gilbert's fairy 
 comedy, comes upon earth a woman, with everything con- 
 cerning earth to learn. Seldom, too, has the devotion of 
 love been shown more convincingly than when Elfinella, 
 to whom the very name of death suggests unutterable 
 horror, at last chooses and embraces the destiny from 
 which she shrinks, that so doing she may share the fate of 
 the man she has learned to love. Every phase of her sub- 
 jugation is shown with dramatic force, and the entire 
 work is made up of material which, judiciously used, 
 would stimulate an audience. That the first production 
 was not a success was mainly attributable to illness on 
 the part of the principal exponent. Miss Heath, who 
 played Elfinella, had long been ill. Her convalescence 
 was far from assured at the time she undertook the 
 task of playing the part. As a consequence she broke 
 down completely, and the slowness of the interpreta- 
 tion was dangerous, if not fatal, to the chance of 
 the piece. This is the more to be regretted as Miss 
 Heath's conception of the character was attractive and 
 
224 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 poetical, and the wonderment of the creature thus 
 strangely placed was exhibited with remarkable skill. 
 When the whole acting is quickened and the piece is 
 shortened, a performance such as she will be able to 
 give should attract all lovers of art. Mr. Warner and 
 Miss Dolores Drummond played important characters. 
 
 IN supplying a new version of the legend of the Flying 
 Dutchman and the 
 
 Phantom ship whose form 
 Shoots like a meteor through the storm 
 
 When the dark scud comes driving hard, 
 * * * * * 
 
 The harbinger of wreck and woe, 
 
 Messrs. Wills and Percy Fitzgerald have adhered more 
 closely to the idealised fable of " Der Fliegende Hollander " 
 than to the older story which underlies the musical bur- 
 letta of Fitzball, produced at the Adelphi. Mr. Fitzgerald 
 is, we understand, responsible for the construction of the 
 play, which bears a strong likeness to the libretto of " Le 
 Vaisseau Fantome," and Mr. Wills for the poetical adorn- 
 ment it receives. A grim, mysterious, and impressive play 
 has been produced. Some powerful scenes, to which full 
 justice has been done, are set in the framework of the 
 story ; and some language which is at once nervous and 
 poetical is supplied. Like all preceding versions, how- 
 ever, this adaptation loses what is most impressive in the 
 original. There is something about the restlessness of 
 these doomed sailors, hailing constantly the passing vessel, 
 and requesting the crew to take home letters to a world 
 which has forgotten them, that is strangely weird and 
 poetical. The lesson is that of self-devotion, it might, 
 indeed, be said of self-immolation. From her youth 
 Thekla, the heroine, has felt herself prompted by mys- 
 terious solicitation or warning to await some call of fate or 
 duty in connection with a portrait that has been discovered 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 22$ 
 
 in her father's house. Weary at length of delay she con- 
 sents to a betrothal to a handsome young sailor, which is 
 pressed upon her by her father. Before the ceremony is 
 concluded Vanderdecken appears. With no expression 
 of wonderment or of coyness, but, indeed, with a com- 
 plete possession which conquers every maidenly instinct, 
 Thekla surrenders to the man she has so long expected. 
 Disregarding all human ties, she goes with him on board 
 the 
 
 Fatal and perfidious bark, 
 Built i' the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark, 
 
 and accepts at once the task allotted her of dying in order 
 to remove from her companion the curse of sailing on to 
 the Judgment Day, a punishment for blasphemy which 
 nothing but a sacrifice such as she makes can avert. 
 
 Here is the essential portion of the story, a scene of a 
 duel between Vanderdecken and Olof, the betrothed of 
 Thekla, in which the young sailor worsts his ghostly rival 
 and precipitates him into the sea, being inserted for the 
 mere purpose of supplying a dramatic situation, and afford- 
 ing room for a " sensation " effect, in which the Flying 
 Dutchman, under a curse like that of Kehama, 
 
 And water shall hear me, 
 And know thee, and fly thee, 
 
 is rejected by the ocean, and recommences his courtship 
 of Thekla. 
 
 It would be easy to show that the treatment of the 
 fable is inferior to the fable itself. Grotesque as it ap- 
 pears, " Vanderdecken" has genuine power and character. 
 It is, however, humiliating to see a man who bears a 
 charmed life, and is a victim foredoomed of eternal ven- 
 geance, defeated and thrown from a cliff by a purely human 
 antagonist, and then sent back wringing wet to recom- 
 mence his ghostly but abominably selfish mission. All 
 attempts hitherto made to connect a quasi- domestic 
 interest with the story have been, from the poetical 
 
 15 
 
226 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 standpoint, failures ; and the only part of the play that 
 approaches the terror of the original is the ballad of Mr. 
 Wills, in which the story of Vanderdecken is told. Mr. 
 Irving's appearance was splendidly picturesque and im- 
 pressive, his aspect in the stronger scenes being absolutely 
 lurid. His performance is, however, wanting in variety, 
 and is marred by the peculiarities which in " Louis XI." 
 he appeared to have shaken off. If the play succeeds it 
 must be on the strength of its weirdness and the admir- 
 able scenery supplied it. Mr. Irving's performance will 
 certainly not rank with his best efforts. 
 
 AT so much length has Crabbe told the tale of Rachel 
 and her lovers, that Messrs. Taylor and Meritt, in fitting 
 it to the stage, have had little to do but adhere to the 
 incidents they found to their hands. Crabbe's very words 
 are more than once employed, and the sequence of events 
 is the same he supplies. In its outlines the story of the 
 two brothers who loved the same woman, and died 
 assumably by each other's hands, in a combat between 
 gamekeepers and poachers, is true, having been supplied 
 to Crabbe by Sir Samuel Romilly. The curious compact 
 by which the heroine, as the price of saving her lover's 
 life, agrees to marry his brother, whose evidence, which 
 no less price will purchase, can exonerate the poacher 
 from a charge he has previously incurred, is also founded 
 on the original. Beyond fixing the scene of the drama on 
 a portion of the coast between Sussex and Dorset, and 
 introducing a few subordinate characters, there has been 
 little for the adaptors to do. They have, however, for the 
 sake of convenience, presented the heroine whom they 
 have re-christened Hester Midhurst as the daughter of 
 an innkeeper instead of a cotter ; they have lengthened 
 the period between the escape of the poacher from gaol 
 and that in which the rivals again meet ; and they have, 
 lastly, killed one of the brothers only at the end ; have 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 22? 
 
 brought the poacher home, a reformed character, from sea, 
 to which he is supposed to have been shipped by means of a 
 press-gang ; have sent him to the scene of combat to pro- 
 tect his brother's life, and not to raise his hand against it ; 
 and have made the dying man express penitence for hav- 
 ing separated the lovers, and join their hands before he 
 expires. These changes are justifiable enough, the result 
 being a drama which has some strong and thrilling scenes, 
 and an action fairly interesting throughout. The whole 
 is, however, gloomy and monotonous, and the termination 
 is weak, unsatisfactory, and unsympathetic. 
 
 Much care has been bestowed upon the new characters 
 introduced. One of these, a cripple, with an absolutely 
 demoniac delight in mischief, is forcibly conceived by 
 the authors, and not less forcibly played by Mr. Pateman. 
 Launce Midhurst, the publican, with his irrepressible 
 sympathy with poachers and smugglers, and Peter 
 Foxcote, a travelling pedlar, are clever and lifelike. Mr. 
 Neville as the poacher, and Mr. Billington as the game- 
 keeper, presented forcibly the two brothers ; Mrs. Billing- 
 ton playing the heroine, and Miss Kate Phillips an 
 attendant. The interpretation by these artists, by Mr. 
 Forbes Robertson and Mr. Flockton, was satisfactory. 
 The chief drawback from the success of the piece is the 
 total absence of that lighter element the public affects in 
 melodrama ; its chief merit consists in the manner in 
 which the life of a hundred years ago is reproduced. 
 
 IN estimating the value of a piece such as "The Hornet's June 22, 1878. 
 Nest " of Mr. Byron, produced on Monday at the Hay- 
 market Theatre, it is but just to the author to take into 
 account the aim with which it was written. In this, and 
 in previous pieces of the same description, Mr. Byron 
 seems to have intended to supply a class of work that, so 
 far as regards its power of creating mirth, may vie with 
 
228 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 the latest comedies of M. Hennequin or MM. Meilhac and 
 Halevy. In all that concerns art, whether in respect to 
 construction or situation, the Englishman comes as far 
 behind his French rivals as a British manufacturer of 
 nicknacks lags behind a Chinese or a Japanese workman. 
 He is, however, entitled to the praise of having produced 
 a play which, while it excites peals of inextinguishable 
 laughter, is a very model of propriety and decorum. This 
 merit may not be high. It is, however, genuine in its 
 class, and is not so common as it may be supposed. 
 Those who can keep us laughing are few, and those 
 among them still fewer whose satire or whose humour is 
 wholly playful and harmless. A piece that needs an 
 apology is, of course, weak. " The Hornet's Nest " is 
 weak for Mr. Byron, which is saying a good deal, since of 
 his numerous plays there are not more than three or four 
 that have any claim to serious consideration. 
 
 In "The Hornet's Nest," then, first produced with 
 indifferent success in New York, and now given for the 
 first time in England, Mr. Byron has supplied a play that 
 from one point of view is invertebrate and from another 
 incoherent. Still, he has furnished Mr. Sothern with a 
 comical character, and in so doing has obtained a success. 
 In chronicling this fact all is said that is really necessary. 
 Criticism is impertinence and mistake. There is no plot 
 to describe ; there are no characters to analyse. The 
 hero himself is a cross between the Favourite of Fortune 
 and Sir Simon Simple ; the subordinate characters are so 
 many lay figures, with whom Mr. Sothern deals as he 
 pleases. More than once, in the course of a performance 
 which no sense of the exigencies of art could make us 
 dislike or find wearisome, we were reminded of an enter- 
 tainment that has been seen at the Aquarium and else- 
 where, entitled, if our memory serve us rightly, " Lieut. 
 Cole and his Merry Men ". Neither Mr. Byron nor Mr. 
 Sothern needs to despise the association, seeing that this 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 22Q 
 
 entertainment, which is ventriloquial, abounds in genuine 
 humour, and approaches, if it does not reach, comic crea- 
 tion. Quite glad are we indeed to have this opportunity 
 of speaking incidentally this word of praise for a perform- 
 ance which, except for some purpose of illustration, can 
 scarcely receive notice at our hands. Mr. Byron's 
 characters are, however, like those in the entertainment 
 in question, and they burst into speech or song, indulge 
 in protest or guffaw, at the bidding of Mr. Sothern. He 
 meantime shows himself the most foolish of his sex 
 through three acts to prove himself the wisest in the 
 fourth act. It may be objected that such results as are 
 presented would not spring from the agencies set in 
 motion, that cause stands aloof from effect, and conclu- 
 sion is dissociated from premiss. This is true. The play 
 is simple, sheer absurdity. It is, however, pervaded with 
 abundance of jokes, good, bad, and indifferent ; it enlists 
 the sympathies of those who will allow themselves to be 
 interested, and it piques the sense of drollery of those to 
 whom the incongruous is a vindication of the impossible. 
 Mr. Sothern meanwhile shows himself in the piece at his 
 best, delivers his jokes with a manner so careless, easy, 
 and unconscious it trebles their value, and moves up and 
 down the play a being wholly preposterous and irresistibly 
 comic. The visitor to the Haymarket should, indeed, fall 
 into an old child's game, and open his mouth and shut his 
 eyes, intellectually speaking, to receive what is sent 
 him. 
 
 AMONG the results of realism in matters dramatic few Sept. 21, 1878. 
 are more constantly manifested than the added difficulty 
 of belief which attends any violation of probability, whether 
 as regards the motives of the characters or their actions. 
 It may be accepted as a rule in dramatic art that the first 
 demand on the faith of an audience meets with the most 
 
230 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 ready acceptance. So long as perfect consistency is 
 maintained, an audience will believe whatever it is told to 
 believe. It sees no difficulty in the way of accepting any 
 condition of affairs set before it. Whether the scene of 
 the story be fairyland, the region of burlesque, or the 
 actual world, is wholly unimportant. Caliban and Ariel 
 are as real as Capt. Cuttle and Little Nell ; the love of 
 Ruy Bias for his Queen is as natural and sympathetic as 
 that of Dobbin for Amelia. In proportion, however, as 
 the characters presented approach more nearly those with 
 whom we are familiar, the standard of probability we 
 apply to their actions is more exact. An exercise of 
 imagination is necessary to enter into the feelings of 
 Undine, when she sees transferred to another the love 
 that was hers, and knows that a revenge adequate to the 
 offence is in her power. We can all, however, at a 
 moment's notice, conceive what is likely to be the con- 
 duct of one who, living in the world we inhabit, dressed 
 in our own garb, and placed amidst our own surroundings, 
 finds himself the victim of one of those vicissitudes to 
 which we are constantly exposed. From such a person 
 we exact behaviour conformable to a standard of common- 
 sense and worldly experience. 
 
 The more closely, then, the dramatist adheres to the 
 actual and the realistic in exterior matters, the more 
 careful should he be not to overpass the boundaries of 
 probability in motive and in action. So far as regards 
 scenery, a green curtain, such as we hear of in Shak- 
 speare's days, was all that a playgoer with imagination 
 required to enable him to realise forest, temple, or market- 
 place in which the action was supposed to pass. The 
 moment scenery was commenced accuracy became im- 
 perative. You could not present a cottage as a temple, 
 or a forest as a street. It would lead too far to show how 
 difficulties of this kind were met on the Greek stage, and 
 how, by a system of purely conventional arrangements, 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 DRAMA TIC~CRTrCISM. 231 
 
 the nature of which was understood by the spectator 
 beforehand, it was known that, when a man arrived by a 
 certain door, he came from the neighbouring city, and not 
 from the adjacent temple or the remote port. A system 
 like this was so far unobjectionable that the difficulty met 
 the playgoer at the outset, and did not front him in the 
 middle of the action. Our own system leads constantly 
 to far graver inconveniences, as when a man falls into 
 what is obviously real water, and comes forward a moment 
 after with dry clothes, or when a soldier, who has borne 
 the brunt of sustained action, appears with his armour 
 fresh, and his accoutrements burnished. Mr. Byron's 
 drama of " Conscience Money " illustrates the kind of 
 difficulty in question. With the skill that comes of long 
 practice Mr. Byron disposes his characters upon the stage 
 so that they look like real beings engaged in a real action. 
 So lifelike are they that we exact from them a behaviour 
 consistent with what is known of human conduct. As we 
 progress and our interest commences to grow we find our 
 faith disturbed. The fact that our sympathy has for a 
 moment gone out to what appear to be real personages 
 makes us resentful when we find them dummies. At 
 the close of " Conscience Money " our feeling towards 
 Frederick Darner, Mr. Byron's hero, is that of one who 
 has apologised to a well-made wax figure for rubbing 
 against it, and has then discovered that the set smile 
 which deceived him could not be dismissed. At the outset 
 of the story Fred Darner loves a girl, and is uncertain 
 whether his attentions are agreeable. He determines 
 to put all doubts to rest, proposes in a manly fashion, and 
 is accepted. While still in the seventh heaven he finds 
 that a compensatory misfortune brings him to earth. So 
 far all is human, natural, sympathetic. He marries the 
 girl without telling her that his fortune rests on an unstable 
 basis, or rather on no basis at all. Here, again, though 
 weak and reprehensible, his conduct is human. When, 
 
232 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 however, having wronged his wife by his reticence, he 
 attempts to atone for it by neglect amounting to desertion, 
 we fail to see the logic of such a process ; and when he 
 accepts as his close friend and the constant associate of 
 his wife a man he knows to have been her lover and 
 believes to be a scoundrel, our surprise is dashed with 
 contempt. Still men are illogical, and something may be 
 allowed the writer who has to frame a story. A return of 
 interest comes again when the hero detects the false friend 
 and tears the mask from his face, and it develops into 
 sympathy when the outbreak brings upon him a revelation 
 of his own miserable secret, of which his enemy has 
 traitorously obtained possession. When, however, after 
 the second exposure we find the hero again accepting in a 
 moment a suggestion of the same transparent villain, to 
 the effect that he shall at once quit his home without 
 bidding farewell to his wife, common-sense rises in 
 mutiny. Such a thing cannot be believed, unless we 
 choose to assume the hero to be absolutely demented. 
 So strong is this feeling, the whole audience experiences 
 it, and a play which has succeeded fairly up to this point 
 drops and becomes a failure. A full lesson on the require- 
 ments of the drama is afforded in these things. A study 
 of the fate of this piece should prevent Mr. Byron from 
 ever incurring a similar fate with any succeeding work. 
 It is scarcely worth while in the case of a piece that has 
 collapsed to deal with matters of detail. As a new 
 termination may yet be provided, it is perhaps right 
 to point out that the minor characters, while cleverly 
 sketched, are hurriedly filled in. Sir Archibald Crane, 
 for instance, shows himself pompous in the opening scene, 
 and selfish and mercenary in the concluding. Between 
 times, however, he remains colourless. Much ol the 
 dialogue is good, though some is very weak. There is 
 enough, however, of drollery to give the piece a hold 
 upon the public, when another termination is provided. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 233 
 
 Mr. Byron plays satisfactorily in his own play a 
 character such as he has frequently presented. Mr. 
 Terriss is excellent as the rather lago-like villain of the 
 piece, and Mr. Kelly, Mr. Howe, and Mr. and Miss Pate- 
 man are seen to more cr less advantage. We do not 
 know whether Mr. Byron or Miss Pateman is responsible 
 for the following phrase : " He much prefers her company 
 to that of mine or that of ours ". Such a gem of language 
 was, however, set before the public on the first perform- 
 ance. 
 
 MOST threadbare among subjects of satire is the theme Sept. 28, 1878. 
 MM. Meilhac and Halevy chose for their comedy of " La 
 Veuve," produced four years ago with indifferent success 
 at the Gymnase. From the earliest days feminine incon- 
 stancy has been ridiculed by every scribe who has striven 
 to win reputation as a narrator or a wit. A story corre- 
 sponding to the famous legend of the matron of Ephesus 
 is said to form a portion of the literary heritage of every 
 civilised race, and some races that are not civilised. The 
 world meanwhile had to wait the arrival of Shakspeare 
 before it heard a statement not less accurate concerning 
 man, that 
 
 The fraud of men was ever so, 
 Since summer first was leafy. 
 
 So much of the success of a work depends upon what 'the 
 mind of the workman brings to it, society has rightly 
 ceased to occupy itself much with questions of originality. 
 If, then, we draw attention to the singularly old-fashioned 
 nature of the satire in " La Veuve," it is with no idea of 
 challenging the wisdom of the authors. The reception, 
 however, accorded in England to " The Idol," which is 
 an almost literal version of the French piece, justifies a 
 doubt whether the subject is, for dramatic purposes, all 
 that could be desired. In the case of satire, as of other 
 
234 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 things, the strong application that is forced home by a 
 dramatic representation tells with an effect that may well, 
 in some cases, prove damaging. By common accord 
 governments, from the most despotic to the most ad- 
 vanced, have seen that the expression of political views 
 upon the stage was too dangerous to be permitted. In 
 the wildest throes of Revolutionary France absolute free- 
 dom of speech was only accorded to be withdrawn. From 
 the added vivacity of interpretation it comes that the 
 oldest and most conventional satire in the world proved 
 too much for an English audience, and provoked mani- 
 festations of discontent. 
 
 The story of " The Idol " shows a woman mourning 
 for her husband and refusing to be comforted. Her 
 friends strive to win her back to the world, and an ardent 
 and impassioned lover waits to take advantage of any 
 moment of relenting and supplant an old love with a new. 
 That he succeeds is due less to his own persistency than 
 to the discovery by the wife that her husband, during the 
 last year of his life, had been wasting his substance upon 
 a mistress. This story, ridiculously slight to form the 
 basis of a three-act comedy, is treated in wittiest and most 
 cynical style by the French authors, and is supplied with 
 a comic embroidery that almost succeeds in covering up 
 its threadbare fabric. Each separate scene elicits a 
 laugh, while the whole incurs condemnation. It is absurd 
 to suppose that the question of morality could have any- 
 thing to do with the verdict passed, seeing that, compared 
 with the pieces that now form the staple of English 
 comedy, " The Idol " is innocence itself. It could not be 
 dulness, for the play was never dull. The grievance 
 consisted in the way in which conventional assumptions 
 were satirised. Heartless derision was lavished on con- 
 jugal fidelity, and the direction " bury your dead out of 
 my sight " was counselled with emphasis and haste felt to 
 be indecent. In saying this we are taking the standpoint 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 235 
 
 of the public, not our own. In our judgment, the piece, 
 though possibly a little unfeeling, is pardonable, and might 
 well pass muster in times like the present. A comedy of 
 Mr. W. S. Gilbert supplies ten times the amount of satire 
 against what is most respectable in our nature. As 
 regards the subject itself, it has, of course, a serious as 
 well as a comic side. There are few who, feeling the 
 sense of loss departing from them, and the enjoyment of 
 life reasserting its empire, have not felt inclined to cry- 
 Let Love clasp Grief, lest both be drowned. 
 
 It is yet known that were it not, as Mr. Swinburne com- 
 plains, that 
 
 We are not sure of sorrow, 
 
 life would grow impossible, and the races of men would 
 subside. Still grief over losses by death and discontent 
 with its want of endurance have no such special sanctity 
 as should put them outside the province of the humorist. 
 
 The piece, we have said, met with an unfavourable 
 reception. We cannot, nevertheless, resist the belief that 
 with some slight modification of the dialogue it will become 
 a success. It is adequately acted, one character, that of 
 the heroine, being presented with something more than 
 intelligence by Miss Eastlake. Mr. H. Paulton, in a 
 small part, displayed some genuine comedy acting, which 
 contrasted pleasantly with the exaggeration into which 
 he has sometimes been betrayed. Mr. Brough and Mr. 
 Bishop gave distinct physiognomies to two eccentric 
 characters. 
 
 In announcing as " new and original " a piece which 
 in the same breath he declares to be adapted from the 
 French, Mr. Wyndham goes a step beyond Mr. Tom 
 Taylor, who would assign to a production of this class the 
 first adjective only. It is difficult to conjecture what 
 meaning will be left to words when " original " and 
 " adapted " are allowed to be applied in the same sentence 
 to the same work. 
 
236 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 THE evils long anticipated by those who watch with 
 intelligent interest the progress of our stage are upon us, 
 and it seems no longer possible to present a Shakspearian 
 play at Drury Lane without moving an audience to open 
 derision. Year by year the number of actors capable of 
 speaking six consecutive lines of Shakspeare diminishes, 
 and whatever traditions concerning poetic art still linger 
 among actors are the property of those whom managers 
 are beginning to regard as superannuated. Mr. Phelps, 
 on whom, as the last representative of a school of acting 
 the age is ceasing to understand, the waves of criticism 
 have beaten most fiercely, remains erect, but is rarely seen. 
 Mrs. Dallas-Glyn, in whom is summed all that is best in 
 the art we once considered national, stands, or is held, 
 aloof, though we might fairly expect to see her when a 
 play like " The Winter's Tale " is put forward. Mrs. 
 Hermann Vezin, one of the few actresses that can give 
 adequate utterance to the music of Shakspeare 's lines, is 
 relegated to secondary roles, which her genius elevates into 
 primary importance. The principal parts in a Shak- 
 spearian revival are assigned to those who, so far as 
 Shakspeare is concerned, may be pronounced, in the words 
 of Jaques's celebrated description 
 
 sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. 
 
 There is no longer any pretence about the matter. A 
 Shakspearian play is a vehicle for scenery and decoration, 
 and nothing else. A score of years ago, even though the 
 cry of decadence was continually heard, we had at 
 Sadler's Wells performances which, so far as regards some 
 parts at least, had beauty of suggestion, if not of illustra- 
 tion, and at the Princess's we had a faithful, if conven- 
 tional, reflection of that which previous ages had held 
 concerning the manner in which Shakspeare was to be 
 rendered, encumbered, it might be, with spectacle, but not 
 wholly buried beneath it. Now the mise en scene is every- 
 thing, and the acting, except in one or two parts, is not to 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 237 
 
 be found. It is useless to chide individuals for the ab- 
 sence of gifts which they could only have obtained by 
 processes altogether outside what is regarded as the func- 
 tion of the actor by the study, that is, of the language 
 they may have to speak until a sense of its beauty and 
 w r orth breaks upon them. It is the system that is in 
 fault rather than the individual, whose crime is that of 
 omission only. Still it is a lamentable thing to see a 
 performance of "The Winter's Tale" in which the Her- 
 mione displays no poetry, the Leontes no passion, and the 
 Autolycus no fun. Such was, however, the Lenten fare 
 provided the visitor to Drury Lane on Saturday last. By 
 the manner in which she played Paulina Mrs. Vezin re- 
 deemejd the entire performance from intellectual sterility. 
 The effect of her acting, and especially of her delivery, 
 was, so to speak, to change the centre of the action and 
 make the play revolve lopsidedly round the character she 
 performed. Like a dispossessed monarch she held apart 
 a court to which all that was noble flocked, until the 
 splendour of the nominal court was outshone. Mr. Ryder, 
 too, as Antigonus, showed what a knowledge of his busi- 
 ness and a full amount of training can do for a man who 
 always seems to discharge perfunctorily the task allotted 
 him. In one or two minor characters there was a respect- 
 able amount of intention. It was, however, in the prin- 
 cipal roles the shortcoming was most conspicuous. The 
 public meanwhile applauded frequently and derided at 
 times. It is a fact worth chronicling that a line of Shak- 
 speare provoked a distinct outburst of discontent. It was 
 that in which Leontes bids Antigonus take the female off- 
 spring of his queen, " And see it instantly consumed with 
 fire". Such a counsel is of course a little shocking to 
 those who are not completely au fait with all that follows 
 and precedes. It is accordingly difficult to lay on an 
 actor the blame of the result. Still, if the audience had 
 entered into the heart of Leontes as we conceive it 
 
238 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 with Kean playing the character, there would not have 
 been time to deal with an extravagance of speech. It 
 is only an uninterested audience that could stop to be 
 thus critical. 
 
 Except the performance of Paulina by Mrs. Vezin, 
 there is nothing in the representation on which we need 
 to dwell. The scenery had the marvellous touch Mr. 
 Beverley never fails to impart. In the management of 
 the play, and in the dances, etc., introduced, the arrange- 
 ments of Charles Kean are closely followed. He it was 
 who first introduced the Pyrrhic dance, as it is called, 
 which prefaces the action in the first scene, and he is 
 responsible for the substitution of what claims to be a 
 species of Dionysiac revels in place of the dance^by the 
 " three carters, three shepherds, three neat-herds, three 
 swine-herds, that have made themselves all men of hair," 
 which Shakspeare introduces. Without having any claim 
 to the rank it assumes, the dance of the satyrs gives a fair 
 idea of the 
 
 Riot and ill-manag'd merriment 
 Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe 
 Stirs up among the loose unlettered hinds 
 When for their teeming flocks and granges full, 
 In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan 
 And thank the Gods amiss. 
 
 It may not, of course, be assumed that this representa- 
 tion is the best our stage can supply. By collecting from 
 different houses our best actors we might get a representa- 
 tion of " The Winter's Tale " which, though it might not 
 satisfy the critic, could not fail greatly to interest him. 
 It is much to be feared, however, that the cast of " The 
 Winter's Tale " is as strong as any Shakspearian play is 
 likely to receive, and this means that until a new state of 
 affairs is brought about, interest in such representations is 
 .at an end. Still it must be remembered that there is 'no 
 performance of a play of Shakspeare from which a student 
 may not learn something. Shakspeare wrote for the 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 239 
 
 stage, and it is difficult to judge of the full significance of 
 his work until it is seen in the perspective with a view to 
 which it was done. Those who recall Mrs. Siddons in the 
 statue scene of Hermione they are now very few can 
 still tell how marvellously effective is a scene the full merit 
 of which can never be guessed from the mere perusal of 
 the play. A fine impression dwells with those whose 
 memories go no farther back than Mrs. Charles Kean and 
 Mrs. Warner. It is, however, a pity that no actress is 
 willing to follow out quite the indications of Shakspeare 
 with regard to Hermione. It would, perhaps, be too much 
 to ask of any woman to remember that Leontes expressly 
 says of the statue : 
 
 Her natural posture ! 
 
 *#*### 
 
 But yet, Paulina, 
 
 Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing 
 So aged as this seems. 
 
 That, too, is but a clumsy arrangement of the play which, 
 as in the present instance, brings on Time to deliver his 
 soliloquy in the middle of an act. 
 
 THE attempt to establish at the Aquarium Theatre a Nov. 9 , 1878. 
 series of performances of old comedy resolves itself into 
 an effort to exploiter Mr. William Farren. Against this, 
 under existing conditions of art, there is nothing to be 
 urged. Mr. Farren is a conscientious and a competent 
 actor, wanting little that experience and nothing that 
 diligence can supply. W 7 e have now, since the death of 
 Mr. Phelps, not more than one man as capable of giving 
 effect to an equal number of comedies concerning which 
 traditions and memories still survive. It is pleasant to 
 witness then an experiment such as is commenced at the 
 Aquarium, even though the conditions may not be the 
 most propitious. Weak as is, on the whole, the company 
 by which the principal actor is supported, it can, it must 
 
240 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 be remembered, be strengthened at any moment, since for 
 morning performances the entire personnel of every London 
 theatre is practically available. 
 
 Mr. Farren being, then, the " head and front " of the 
 undertaking, it is necessary to ascertain what are his 
 qualifications for the role he assumes. Like many, it may 
 almost be said most, of those artists concerning whom the 
 public is most interested, Mr. Farren has passed through 
 every phase of condemnation or indifference, to find appre- 
 ciation slowly settle upon and around him. When first 
 as W. Farren, jun., or, indeed, earlier still, under the 
 stage name of Forrester, behind which his modesty at the 
 outset concealed itself, he claimed the suffrages of the 
 public, no great indulgence was accorded him. During 
 many years he was spoken of by his friends as a hard, and 
 his enemies as a wooden, actor. It was only when middle 
 age had been reached, and the character of the jeune pre- 
 mier had been abandoned, he began to establish himself 
 in general favour. Since that time he has advanced to 
 the front in public esteem. Some encouragement in the 
 prosecution of an arduous career must have been afforded 
 him by the fact, for which necessarily we are indebted to 
 hearsay, that his career is identical with that of his father, 
 whose repertoire he has of late commenced to play. 
 
 It is characteristic of the best vintages that they are 
 the longest in maturing. Judged by this standard, Mr. 
 Farren must be an exceedingly fine wine, since now, after 
 a quarter of a century's incessant practice, he is still far 
 from ripe. His method is formed, and he shows a know- 
 ledge of the springs of pathos. Still, the entire command 
 of them is not yet his, and his art must still be pronounced 
 crude. It is much to be feared that it will be the same 
 with him as we have known it with other artists, and that 
 the finishing grace to his style will only be given by 
 infirmity. 
 
 Mr. Farren's Grandfather Whitchcad is an excellent 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 241 
 
 performance. It is only when we compare it with the 
 very best efforts in the same direction that we detect its 
 shortcomings. The character has only on three nights 
 been seen in London since the death of the elder Farren, 
 and it is necessary accordingly to say that Grandfather 
 Whitehead is a cheery old man, who dwells in the house 
 of his son, and believes things in general to be as 
 prosperous as he in the exercise of a thoroughly benign 
 disposition would have them. Assuming, not altogether 
 unnaturally, that some money he finds "lying about" 
 is his own, he spends it in toys for his grandchild on 
 whom he dotes and in other like trifles. In so doing he 
 accomplishes the ruin of his son-in-law. Ultimately he is 
 able to make amends for the evil he has wrought. In the 
 display of cheerfulness and content succeeded by suffering 
 and defeat is the opportunity an actor seeks. This part 
 is of all others the most closely associated with Mr. 
 Farren's father. Of the manner in which the elder Farren 
 acted the younger preserves a faithful copy, and those 
 who see the bowed figure and the drooping venerable head 
 might almost believe that the elder Farren still survived. 
 There is, however, something wanting. The resemblance 
 is that of photography, the accuracy of which from one 
 standpoint is as unquestionable as from another it is 
 meaningless. What is not there is the divine touch that 
 makes pathos harrowing. Pathetic Mr. Farren's inter- 
 pretation is. It has not, however, the gift we can recall 
 in performances such as those of Mr. Alfred Wigan in the 
 " First Night," of M. Regnier in " La Joie fait Peur," or of 
 Mr. Boucicault in " Night and Morning," his own version 
 of the piece last named. It does not necessarily follow that 
 Mr. Farren is an inferior artist to the actors mentioned, 
 since wideness of range is an indispensable factor in the sum 
 of artistic claim. Still, in the matter of pathos he comes 
 behind them, and pathos is the point in which his father's 
 reputation stood highest. The method of the elder Farren, 
 
 16 
 
242 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 which the son transmits, is said to have been that of 
 Bouffe, the French comedian. " Grandfather Whitehead " 
 is an adaptation by Mark Lemon of some piece of the 
 Scribe school, the identity of which we are unable to fix. 
 
 IN " The Liar " Mr. Farren played a part so distinct 
 from Grandfather Whitehead as to bear testimony to 
 the versatility of an actor who could in the same morning 
 assume characters so different. His performance is able 
 but ponderous, and has this effect that the levity of dis- 
 position, to use no stronger word, which characterises the 
 younger Wilding, seems altogether unpardonable in the 
 case of a man of so staid demeanour and respectable 
 carriage. The version is that in two acts in which Mr. 
 Charles Mathews appeared at the Olympic and elsewhere. 
 Concerning Mr. Farren's surroundings few words need be 
 said. Miss Litton, always bright and attractive in comedy, 
 gave with much spirit and appreciation the part of Miss 
 Granthain ; Mr. Collette, who appeared in both pieces, 
 acted with animal spirits that once or twice bordered on 
 the obstreperous, but contributed to the success of the 
 whole. Mr. Norman Forbes looked well under powder, 
 and acted agreeably. In the first piece Mr. Fawn, in a 
 ridiculous costume, acted in a manner for which the only 
 palliation is that it has long been supposed to be charac- 
 teristic of low comedy. If we cannot get rid of such dress 
 as the padded haunches and the short lappets of the coat 
 at any less price, it is to be hoped we shall throw low 
 comedy over altogether. A piece such as " Grandfather 
 Whitehead " is murdered by the introduction of those 
 devices without which our comedians dare not pretend to 
 be funny. 
 
 Jan. 4, 1879. How firm a faith in Mr. Irving inspires a large section 
 
 of the public was testified on Monday night, when that 
 actor made his first appearance in a theatre under his own 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 243 
 
 management. The occasion is not to be forgotten by 
 those who were present. In a house which may now 
 claim to be one of the handsomest in London, and in pre- 
 sence of a thoroughly representative audience, Mr. Irving 
 received such manifestations of delight and approval as 
 recall the most brilliant triumphs of the tragedians of past 
 time. It is impossible to doubt the sincerity of the con- 
 victions that found expression in ringing cheers and shouts 
 of affectionate welcome. No amount of care or expense 
 could have organised a demonstration of the kind ; nothing 
 short of spontaneous and overmastering enthusiasm could 
 have produced it. The most severely critical estimate of 
 Mr. Irving's powers does not involve any scepticism as to 
 the value of a demonstration like this. While successive 
 governments, with a timidity and mistrust of the people 
 whkh speak little for their intelligence, leave all questions 
 of literature and art to look after themselves, the public 
 recognises a debt of gratitude to those who endeavour by 
 private action to make up for national shortcoming. To 
 present a Shakspearian masterpiece under favourable con- 
 ditions, with an adequate cast and artistic surroundings, 
 is a work of no small difficulty or importance. In saying, 
 as he did in a short address to the public after the per- 
 formance, that the dream of his life had been to do this, 
 Mr. Irving obtained implicit credence. It has, indeed, 
 required years of preparation to bring about the result. 
 As some motive of personal ambition is sure to colour 
 most private effort, it was necessary for the actor to win 
 acceptance for his own conception of Hamlet or some 
 other leading Shakspearian character. This in itself means 
 delaying an experiment until the top of an arduous pro- 
 fession is reached. A theatre has then to be obtained, 
 and actors, seldom too amenable to discipline, have to 
 be drilled until they become parts of one harmonious 
 whole. This triumph Mr. Irving has obtained. The 
 representation of " Hamlet " supplied on Monday night is 
 
244 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 the best the stage during the last quarter of a century has 
 seen, and it is the best also that is likely under existing 
 conditions to be seen for some time to come. Scenic 
 accessories are explanatory without being cumbersome, the 
 costumes are picturesque and striking and show no need- 
 less affectation of archaeological accuracy, and the inter- 
 pretation has an ensemble rarely found in any performance, 
 and never during recent years in a representation of 
 tragedy. Here is much for which to be grateful. The 
 points raised call for a few further words. As regards 
 scenery, successful attempt is made to add to the impres- 
 siveness and intelligibility of the action. The " more 
 remote part of the platform," to which the Ghost draws 
 Hamlet, presents that "dreadful summit of the cliff" 
 which Horatio shrinkingly describes. Very impressive is 
 the effect of the ghostly figure, erect, with a background of 
 sea, and with an unearthly light falling upon his helmet. 
 The play scene is well arranged, though there is nothing 
 in it calling for special notice ; the scene of Ophelia's 
 interment gives an imposing representation of Catholic 
 ceremonial, and furnishes Hamlet and Horatio with satis- 
 factory means of escaping observation. Perhaps, how- 
 ever, the best arrangement of all is that in the closing 
 scene, in which the King's death is brought about. This, 
 if not perfect, is a great improvement on anything pre- 
 viously seen. To avoid the extreme improbability of a 
 man standing, like Claudius, to hear himself defied and 
 outraged, and to wait for his death-blow, the King should 
 be so absorbed in the death of the Queen as to be scarcely 
 conscious of the surrounding circumstances ; and the 
 accusation of Laertes, made with failing breath, should only 
 reach him when the final words are uttered : " The King 
 knows all ". In the present case the action becomes, 
 however, intelligible on the exercise of slight powers of 
 imagination on the part of the audience. 
 
 It is, of course, an anomaly to show early Danish 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 245 
 
 soldiers wearing chain armour. All, however, that is 
 necessary in the case of a play like this is to give a species 
 of picturesque antiquity to the attire. Shakspeare has, as 
 Mr. Marshall says in his preface to the acting version now 
 employed, been hampered by "no formal respect for geo- 
 graphical or historical accuracy," and has introduced, in a 
 period which is almost fabulous, references to " partisans," 
 "cannons," "rapiers," and "hangers". One or two 
 things may, indeed, be mentioned at which no stickler for 
 accuracy has ever arrived. When the players came on 
 the stage the player queen should, in fact, be a boy. Up 
 to Shakspeare's time women had taken no part in dramatic 
 representation, and Hamlet, when he says : " What, my 
 young lady and mistress ! By'r lady, your ladyship is 
 nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the altitude 
 of a chopine," may be supposed to indicate that he 
 recognises the player of women under his female disguise. 
 A second alteration that regard for historical accuracy 
 would suggest is that, according to early custom, the play 
 before the King should be presented in the afternoon by 
 daylight. Plays were thus given in early days, and in the 
 century in which the action is supposed to pass the means 
 of lighting would not be adequate to an evening enter- 
 tainment of the class. Hamlet, shortly afterwards, says : 
 " 'Tis now the very witching time of night ". This, how- 
 ever, does not, as might easily be shown, disprove our 
 assertion. These suggestions are not intended for accept- 
 ance. They aim only at showing how hopeless a matter 
 is the struggle after absolute accuracy. 
 
 Of Mr. Irving's Hamlet we have already spoken. It 
 is not greatly changed. The outline is distinctly the same 
 as before, though much pains have been bestowed on the 
 filling up. We do not accept as new readings the delivery 
 while sitting of speeches formerly spoken standing, or 
 other like alterations in arrangement. Nor do we feel 
 that changes of method as regards matters of detail call 
 
246 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 for special comment. The one vital alteration of concep- 
 tion appears to consist in presenting Hamlet as under the 
 influence of an overmastering love for Ophelia. A know- 
 ledge of his own weakness seems to inspire him when, 
 subsequently addressing Horatio, he says : 
 
 Give me that man 
 
 That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him 
 In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart. 
 
 The chief grace in the new representation consisted in 
 the delivery of the speeches to Ophelia in the third act. 
 In this the mocking tone did not for a moment hide the 
 profound emotion under which Hamlet laboured, and the 
 hands which repulsed her petitioning hands trembled with 
 passionate longing. That this view of Hamlet is correct 
 will scarcely be disputed. That he loved Ophelia he 
 declares over her grave ; that he felt it his duty, under the 
 influences of a task such as that enjoined him, to erase from 
 the table of his memory all " trivial fond records," he also 
 states. The indications of the pain it costs a nature such as 
 this, quick in resolution and shrinking and incapable in 
 action, to inflict on the woman he loves the grief it is yet 
 necessary she should sustain, are well conceived. That 
 they were effective in action was ascribable to a great 
 extent to the admirable acting of Miss Terry. Picturesque, 
 tender, and womanly throughout, Miss Terry on one or 
 two occasions gave an inspired rendering of Ophelia. 
 The support she afforded Mr. Irving was of the utmost 
 importance, and the scene before the play has probably 
 never been so well rendered. An attempt to dignify the 
 character of Polonius, to which most are prompted who 
 see how wise midst his sententiousness he appears in the 
 early scenes, is made in the interest of Mr. Chippendale, 
 who plays the character. In order to bear out this por- 
 tions of the speech to Claudius and Gertrude, which elicit 
 from the latter the rebuke : " More matter, with less art," 
 are omitted. Mr. Forrester's King and Miss Pauncefort's 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 247 
 
 Queen are worthy of notice, as is also the Ghost of Mr. T. 
 Mead. 
 
 It is impossible to regard this performance with dis- 
 favour, and it would be ungracious, as well as tedious, to 
 expatiate upon defects. As regards interpretation, it is 
 possible to point out many passages in which a different 
 reading might with advantage be adopted. The most 
 noteworthy defect on the part of the principal actor con- 
 sists in a tendency to deprive vowels of their value, and 
 pronounce, for instance, ghost as though it rhymed to lost 
 instead of host. 
 
 NEVER, perhaps, in the history of letters has an Mar. 29, 1879. 
 experiment been tried bolder or more startling than that 
 of Mr. Gilbert in the production of " Gretchen ". When 
 Dryden and Davenant and their successors undertook to 
 remove the crude work of Shakspeare to suit their own 
 more cultivated tastes, there was nothing especially 
 courageous in the action. The fame of Shakspeare did 
 not then stand on the pinnacle in the sight of all men it 
 has subsequently occupied. From its first appearance, 
 however, the " Faust " of Goethe took intellectual Europe 
 by storm. So sensible is Mr. Gilbert of the worth of the 
 work with which he deals, he justifies his own effort on 
 the one ground that the play he alters is not suited to 
 dramatic exposition, and he fortifies his opinion on this 
 point by quoting the assertion of Schlegel, in his lecture 
 on " German Drama," that " Faust " " runs out in all 
 directions beyond the limits of the theatre ". It is a poor 
 theory of art and a curb upon subsequent work to forbid 
 a man treating a subject which another has developed 
 with results however satisfactory. If a coming dramatist 
 has for us in his quiver another " Orestead," a new 
 " Hamlet," or a new " Macbeth," we will accept it gladly, 
 and will not indulge too much in comparisons. Mr. Gilbert 
 
248 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 has, however, departed so widely from the story of Goethe 
 he might with advantage have quitted it altogether. The 
 legend of Faustus is common property. It has been 
 treated at more or less length by Marlowe, Lessing, and 
 Goethe, by Mr. Bailey and the Member for Stoke. It has 
 been chosen by Coleridge for dramatic treatment ; has 
 been modernised, rearranged, set to music, burlesqued 
 subjected, in fact, to every form of dignity and indignity. 
 If Mr. Gilbert then had left Goethe entirely out of the 
 question, he would have challenged less dangerous com- 
 parisons, and allowed himself fuller scope. So little of 
 Goethe is there in what remains it would have been better 
 in all respects to leave that great name unmentioned. 
 One scene that between Martha and Mephistopheles is 
 but slightly altered from " Faust ". In the rest of the play 
 the language is entirely Mr. Gilbert's, though the incidents 
 run parallel with some of those in Goethe. Five-sixths of 
 the characters of that which we must call the original 
 disappear. Among those thus disposed of Valentine alone 
 belongs to the central action. His disappearance removes 
 necessarily what is most tragic in the story. What 
 remains is indeed so void of tragic depth, there is scarcely 
 occasion to link it with the life of Faust. A priest may 
 well grow weary of his vows, escape from them, and woo 
 a maiden who, on finding out his true character, quits 
 resolutely his embraces and dies of mingled shame, peni- 
 tence, and sorrow, without demanding the interference of 
 any supernatural power and without recalling very strongly 
 any past treatment of " Faust ". This is practically the 
 whole of Mr. Gilbert's play. While, then, taken as inde- 
 pendent work, " Gretchen " is entitled to rank as a power- 
 ful satire and a poetical and emotional play, it arouses, 
 when considered as a version of " Faust," a sense of 
 shortcoming that cannot be suppressed, and that no cheers 
 of a delighted audience will drive from the memory. 
 Faust in Goethe is not a very powerfully conceived 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 249 
 
 character. While refusing to accept in full the verdict 
 of Coleridge that he is dull and meaningless, we cannot 
 accept Goethe's own self-laudation concerning it when he 
 says : " It would have been a fine thing, indeed, if I had 
 strung so rich, varied, and highly diversified a life as that 
 I have brought to view in Faust upon the slender string 
 of one pervading idea ". Still, Faust is a man in whose 
 longings the emotional and the intellectual are so blended 
 that no gratification can probably satisfy him, and cer- 
 tainly not the intellectual life he leads previous to his 
 rejuvenescence. Faustus in Marlowe meantime has a 
 burning and almost Satanic desire to know and to rule, 
 and his appetite for the unseen and the unattainable is 
 impressive and grand in its extravagance. Mr. Gilbert, 
 however, has lowered the character almost to the level 
 of modern life. There is in his play no psychology what- 
 ever. A priest wearied of his vows and pining to renew 
 the joys he has too hastily forsworn, a maiden young, 
 loving, tender, and innocent, and a rather conventional 
 soldier, carry on the main action, and the devil pipes to 
 the audience in some lines of strong and frequently happy 
 satire. There are dramatic situations in the play, and 
 much of the dialogue has a charm which is quite Mr. 
 Gilbert's own. We do not, however, while admitting all 
 that is poetical in conception and excellent in satire, know 
 why Gretchen should not be a Breton maiden, and Faust 
 Pere Hyacinthe, or, for the matter of that, Martin Luther. 
 For Mephisto, though we should be sorry to miss some of 
 his speeches, there is no need whatever. It is easy to cut 
 out of Goethe's " Faust " much that is apparently extra- 
 neous to the central story. Goethe himself knew, how- 
 ever, that in what is apparently extraneous lies much that 
 is really vital. He would not have written " Faust " to 
 depict the loves of the hero and heroine. When Gret- 
 chen's shame is but indicated, when no crime beyond that 
 of loving too well burdens the conscience of the maiden, 
 
250 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 and when the denoumcnt is reached in saving from the 
 menacing sword of Gottfried, his rival, the life of her 
 lover, there is surely nothing to link the modern play with 
 the great dramatic legend which has been to Northern 
 Europe what the story of " Don Juan " has been to the 
 more fervid imaginations of the South. It is difficult, 
 then, to say of Mr. Gilbert's play all that from the literary 
 standpoint it deserves, inasmuch as it is not what it claims 
 to be. 
 
 Little in the acting calls for comment. Mr. Archer's 
 Mephisto surprised those who had seen in his previous 
 assumptions nothing to promise a performance of the 
 kind. It can scarcely be the fault of the actor that the 
 evil one has to fall down in a dead faint, the result of his 
 indignation at the untrustworthiness of his latest pupil. 
 Mediaeval chroniclers have depicted the devil baffled and 
 astonished, but did not dream of exhibiting him as faint- 
 ing. The modern author of the " Legend of St. Medard " 
 has, it is true, shown the arch-fiend weary and faint and 
 even footsore : it has been reserved for times absolutely 
 modern to show him in a swoon. Miss Marion Terry's 
 gentle and maidenly style and her quiet earnestness were 
 of use as Gretchen, and Mr. Conway's bearing was scarcely 
 less advantageous to Faust. It cannot be said, however, 
 that either the Faust or the Gretchen, or, indeed, any 
 character of the play, except Mephisto, was realised. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Vaudeville : " The Girls," comedy in three acts, by H. J. 
 Byron. Court: " The Queen's Shilling," comedy in three 
 acts, by G. W . Godfrey. Gaiety : Representations of the 
 Comedie Francaise, " Le Misanthrope," " Les Precieuses 
 Ridicules," " Hernani," " Le Marquis de Villemer," 
 " Le Menteur," "Mdlle. de Belle hie," " Phedre," 
 "Zaire," " Le Sphinx" (( Le Gendre de M. Poirier," 
 "L'Ami Fritz," "Les Caprices de Marianne," " On ne 
 Badine pas avec I' Amour," " Le Jeu de V Amour et du 
 Hasard," "Mdlle. de la Seigliere," "Les Fourcham- 
 bault," " Le Manage de Figaro," " L'Avare," " Andro- 
 maque" " Ruy Bias" " Mercadet le Faiseur," " Le 
 Mariage de Victorine," "Les Fourberies de Scapin," 
 etc. Princess s : "Drink," a drama in five acts, from the 
 French of M. Zola, by Charles Reade. 
 
 THE work with which it is sought to replace " Our April 26,1879. 
 Boys " at the Vaudeville Theatre resembles in some 
 respects its predecessor. Like it the new 7 play has a 
 story of purely domestic interest, and puts in fairly effec- 
 tive contrast vulgarity and culture ; like it, too, " The 
 Girls " appeals to a class of emotions which are the pos- 
 session of most playgoers, and are at once the most 
 responsive and the easiest to reach. It is, however, in all 
 respects except one, an inferior work. The characters in 
 " The Girls " are through two acts as distinct and painted 
 with as much sincerity as those in " Our Boys ". That 
 their actions interest us less is attributable to defects in 
 the plot. Mr. Byron's comedies give us the feeling that 
 he starts w 7 ith a purpose and throws it overboard when he 
 
 (251) 
 
252 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 is well on his way. In " The Girls " he appears to have 
 proposed to himself to show the relative advantages of 
 marriages contracted for love and for money. He pre- 
 sents us accordingly to two heroines who have a quasi- 
 sisterly relation, and who marry respectively a poor 
 sculptor and a wealthy parvenu. One act is spent in 
 showing the characters of the suitors and a second in 
 bringing them, after marriage, to loggerheads. Having 
 reached this point Mr. Byron dismisses his purpose as 
 easily as a practised writer drops a metaphor that has 
 served its end, and finishes his play in a fashion that is at 
 once commonplace and improbable. To a desire to render 
 his characters sympathetic he sacrifices their consistency. 
 What is clumsier still in art, he strives, by means of dia- 
 logue, to show them other than they are. An instance 
 absolutely crucial of a kind of defect which is only to be 
 expected in juvenile work is afforded in a character called 
 Plantagenet G. Potter. In all his actions this individual 
 proves himself a vulgar, illiterate, pretentious hound, 
 without a redeeming feature. Insolent in his prosperity, 
 he is in his defeat cowardly and abject, and he treats with 
 absolute brutality the wife who has sunk herself low 
 enough to share his fate. Inasmuch, however, as this 
 character has to be played by Mr. James, who presents it 
 with artistic truth and sincerity, it is sought to give it 
 some claim on sympathy. This is done by the simple 
 process of making the characters say of Potter that he is 
 not so bad as he seems, he has a good heart, and the like. 
 An artist who, being his brother-in-law, is turned in the 
 most offensive manner conceivable from his house, yet 
 finds at the moment of humiliation some redeeming trait 
 in him, and a peer, who must regard him with ineffable 
 contempt, declares that he sees something in him. This 
 is not the way to write drama. It would scarcely, indeed, 
 be accepted in the mildest kind of prose fiction. Mr. 
 Byron will never do himself justice until he pays less heed 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 253 
 
 to his exponents and more heed to the requirements of 
 the art he follows. A play is a microcosm, and the 
 characters introduced in it should be bound by its laws. 
 There is no room except in farce for inconsistency, and 
 the actions of each character should be as much links in a 
 chain as are those of a human being in real life. The 
 best dramatic work is done when man is shown, as in the 
 Greek drama, the slave of circumstance, or, as in the 
 romantic drama, at war with it. Man the shuttlecock of 
 an author can interest none. It may be mentioned inci- 
 dentally that Mr. Byron deprives himself of a familiar and 
 trustworthy staff of the dramatist by closing his love 
 interest at the end of the first act. In spite of some 
 admirably powerful acting by Mr. James in the repulsive 
 part to which reference has been made, and the careful 
 and successful performances of Mr. Thorne, Mr. Farren, 
 and Miss Bishop, and in spite also of the prestige of the 
 house, " The Girls " barely escaped shipwreck on its 
 opening voyage. If it is to run long very important 
 alterations must be made in the last act. 
 
 IT is a curious circumstance that a vaudeville so slight 
 as " Un Fils de Famille " of Bayard should have appeared 
 in three separate versions on the English stage. " The 
 Queen's Shilling " is, however, the third adaptation, the 
 two previous renderings being " The Lancers ; or, the 
 Gentleman's Son," given in 1853 at the Princess's by 
 Charles Kean, and " The Discarded Son," translated and 
 produced at the Adelphi in the same year by Mr. B. 
 Webster. Eighteen years later the French play was 
 given at the St. James's by M. Lafontaine, who took in 
 it his original part of the Colonel. That a comedy like 
 this, by a pupil and collaborator of Scribe, should be 
 chosen for a morning performance at a house in which 
 " Bataille de Dames " constitutes the evening enter- 
 tainment, and should win favourable acceptance, is a 
 
 
254 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 significant fact. It might at first be supposed that the 
 kind of taste that is shown in the mounting of pieces was 
 extending to the choice of them, and that we were going 
 to adopt the plays of our grandfathers as well as their 
 furniture. A more exact explanation is, however, supplied 
 by the manner in which pieces are acted at the Court 
 Theatre. It is not too much to say that a whole range 
 of drama which has obtained a very moderate amount of 
 popularity in England is open to a management like that 
 of the Court. Until recently a vaudeville was, so to speak, 
 pitch-forked on to the English stage. A play like the 
 present would then have had for its comic character a low 
 comedian with padded breeches and a reddened nose, while 
 the sister of the Colonel would have been a corresponding 
 "monster" of an opposite sex, the Sycorax to this familiar 
 Caliban. A new system is now introduced. The inter- 
 preters of a play like this may not be great actors, they 
 are at least actors who do not greatly overstep the 
 modesty of nature. The utmost care is taken with every 
 detail, and the result is a performance which is a reflec- 
 tion of real life. Mr. Hare does not suggest M. Lafon- 
 taine in playing the Colonel. He is marvellously got up, 
 however, and acts with extreme care and finish of style. 
 Mrs. Kendal is not a Rose Cheri, and Mr. Kendal is still 
 further from being a M. Bressant. Both actors, however, 
 realise well the characters they play, though Mrs. Kendal 
 can scarcely be said to keep herself quite within the limits 
 of the society in which the scene is laid. In some of the 
 minor characters the acting is perfect, and the entire 
 performance may be seen with interest and pleasure. It 
 does not stir, for there is no strong dramatic fibre in the 
 play, but it pleases. The decorations are in admirable 
 taste. 
 
 June 7, 1879. A CURIOUS change of feeling, attributable doubtless to 
 increased knowledge on the part of the public, is mani- 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 255 
 
 fested by the reception awarded the Comedie Francaise on 
 its second visit to England. When, in the evil day of 
 Paris, the more prominent members of the company gave 
 a series of performances in London, in which, owing to 
 the paucity of their numbers, actors of highest mark sus- 
 tained all roles down to the most subordinate, a mere 
 fraction of the public assembled to witness performances 
 absolutely unequalled. It was not, indeed, until a move- 
 ment for a complimentary banquet, the inception and exe- 
 cution of which belong to the Athenaum, had been set on 
 foot that the playgoing world understood the opportunities 
 of artistic enjoyment and education placed within its 
 reach. Since the period of scarcely controllable excite- 
 ment begotten of that movement most important facts 
 connected with the Comedie Francaise have been dealt 
 with in the English press, until the nature, construction, 
 and value of the corporation are now understood as clearly 
 as those of any alien institution are ever understood in 
 England. As a consequence fashion has taken the 
 Comedie Fran9aise under its wing, and the eagerness and 
 enthusiasm which are manifested are in excess of the 
 occasion and have a false ring. Not a place was obtain- 
 able for the opening night, the entrance of those duly pro- 
 vided with seats was impeded by the exit of disappointed 
 applicants, and those whose interest in art is most keen 
 found themselves thrust into positions in which it was all 
 but impossible for them to frame an accurate judgment. 
 
 The opening performance consisted of two pieces of 
 Moliere and an act from Racine. A prologue by M. Jean 
 Aicard, entitled " Moliere a Shakspeare," was, however, 
 first recited by M. Got, in presence of the entire company. 
 This is a little rhetorical, as such addresses ordinarily 
 are, and has less epigram than we are accustomed to find. 
 It is, however, ingenious and well written, and was finely 
 delivered. 
 
 Though the masterpiece of the comedy of Moliere, the 
 
256 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 one play in which the dramatist puts into burning words 
 his sense of his own wrongs and his weariness under the 
 share allotted him of the burden of humanity his 
 "Hamlet," in fact " Le Misanthrope" is a difficult 
 play wherewith to please an English audience. Without 
 either action or situation, it seeks to interest by purely 
 psychological processes, and exposes to vulgar gaze a 
 nature which vulgar perceptions can never penetrate. It 
 is painful accordingly, if edifying, to watch the efforts to 
 force into drollery the biting phrases of Alceste, of a public 
 which, hearing of Moliere as a comic writer, waits for 
 comic scenes. Still, thanks to the brilliant and tasteful 
 dresses, which make the whole a faithful reproduction of 
 seventeenth century life, and to the exquisite delivery of 
 the verse and thanks also to the careful elaboration of 
 character by actors such as MM. Delaunay and Coquelin 
 and Madame Favart the whole, if a little long, was 
 pleasant to contemplate. M. Delaunay imparts to Alceste 
 more fierceness and disdain than we are accustomed to asso- 
 ciate with the character, and less feeling of defeat and 
 sorrow. The title chosen by Moliere justifies, and indeed 
 may seem to necessitate, this view. It is possible, how- 
 ever, to conceive of Alceste as one who is like the poet 
 
 Dowered with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, 
 The love of love. 
 
 His cynicism is but skin-deep, and that the mood which 
 counsels his retreat into obscurity is ultimately to be 
 changed seems apparent from the concluding lines of the 
 play, addressed by Philinte, his one friend, to Eliante, 
 whom, in a fashion not quite easy to reconcile with his 
 passion for Celimene, Alceste regards as her possible 
 successor : 
 
 Aliens, madame, aliens employer toute chose, 
 Pour rompre le dessein que son cceur se propose. 
 
 No such aspect is indicated by M. Delaunay, though it 
 was suggested by his predecessor, M. Bressant. M. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 257 
 
 Coquelin was excellent as Oronte, and was the very mar- 
 quis Moliere loved to draw the combination of aristocratic 
 and ridiculous qualities at whom it was easy and unsafe to 
 laugh. Madame Favart gave with purest diction and with 
 admirable acerbity the speeches of Arsinoe, and Mdlle. 
 Broisat was natural and agreeable as Eliante. MM. 
 Prudhon, Baillet, and Boucher presented with a fidelity 
 worthy of the predecessor and namesake of the artist last 
 named the young butterflies of the court men whose 
 duties did not extend beyond attending the petit lever of 
 their monarch. Mdlle. Croizette alone, whose style leans 
 towards the realistic, seemed scarcely suited to the part 
 she played. 
 
 The second act of " Phedre " is that in which, with 
 writhings and convulsions of shame and passion, Phedre 
 owns to Hippolyte her fierce and incestuous love. No 
 better part could be found for showing the intensity of 
 which Mdlle. Sarah Bernhardt is possessor. Such 
 experiments can seldom be satisfactory, since an artist 
 ought, in fact, to rise by the slow and requisite 
 gradations of the drama to the point at which her 
 passion is evinced. In the present case no difficulty 
 of the kind was encountered. From the moment she 
 entered on the stage, carefully guarded and supported by 
 CEnone, Mdlle. Bernhardt realised fully the passionate, 
 febrile, and tortured woman. Her supple frame writhed 
 beneath the influence of mental agony and restless desire, 
 and her postures seemed chosen with admirable art for 
 the purpose of blending the greatest possible amount of 
 seduction with the utmost possible parade of penitence. 
 This is, of course, the true reading, and the whole shame 
 of Phedre is due to her ill success. The key-note to her 
 character is struck in a later act, the third, wherein she 
 says : 
 
 II n'est plus temps : il sait mes ardeurs insensees, 
 De 1'austere pudeur les homes sont passees. 
 
 17 
 
258 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 J'ai declare ma honte aux yeux de mon vainqueur, 
 Et 1'espoir malgre moi s'est glisse dans mon cceur. 
 
 While, accordingly, she exhausts herself in invective 
 against herself for her crime, she is, in fact, in the very 
 whirlwind of her passion studying, like a second Delilah, 
 
 His virtue or weakness which way to assail. 
 
 Obvious as is this view, it is not always presented, the 
 cause of absence being, perhaps, the weakness of the 
 actress. In the present case it was fully revealed, and the 
 picture of abject and lascivious appeal was terrible in its 
 intensity. The performance proves that Mdlle. Bernhardt 
 deserves her high reputation. M. Mounet-Sully was excel- 
 lent, his acting being wholly free from the extravagance 
 with which it. is sometimes charged. Full advantage was 
 taken of the one or two opportunities for the display of 
 power which the act affords. 
 
 " LES PRECIEUSES RIDICULES," which concluded the 
 first day's entertainment, was noteworthy for the admirable 
 comic acting of the brothers Coquelin as Mascarille and 
 Jodelet, the two lackeys disguised as noblemen. These 
 scenes could not be better presented. Mdlle. Samary and 
 Mdlle. Dinah-Felix were the two Precieuses, and M. Thiron 
 was G or gibus. 
 
 In the second and third days' entertainment the classic 
 repertoire yielded to the modern, both plays being by the 
 chosen victim of the English censure, M. Dumas fils. 
 " L'Etrangere " is familiar to the London playgoer by a 
 version given at the Haymarket. Those who remember 
 the play only by this performance will have but a faint 
 idea of its merits. With these there is little occasion at 
 present to deal. As regards the interpretation, the ren- 
 dering of the principal characters deserves all that has 
 been said of it in P.aris. Mdlle. Bernhardt is indescribable 
 as Mrs. Clarkson, the Marquise of Madame Madeleine 
 Brohan is unsurpassable, and M. Febvre's Clarkson is a 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 wonderful conquest over difficulties. Too high praise can 
 scarcely be bestowed on the Duke of M. Coquelin, the 
 Mauriceau of M. Thiron, and the Remonin of M. Garraud. 
 As a presentation of modern life, indeed, the whole is 
 faultless. 
 
 " LE FILS NATUREL " was the means of introducing to 
 the public M. Worms, who acted carefully and well, but 
 scarcely rose to the level of his high reputation. Madame 
 Jouassain, an admirable actress in the roles of dowagers 
 and old women in general, also made a first appearance. 
 This argumentative but brilliant comedy of M. Dumas 
 attracted a less numerous audience, but pleased more than 
 might have been expected. If portions of its dialogue are 
 long, the major portion is incisive, and the whole is telling 
 and fairly sympathetic. Three characters taken respec- 
 tively by MM. Coquelin, Febvre, and Thiron the Notaire, 
 the father of the fils naturel, and the Marquis were played 
 to perfection. There was indeed no shortcoming, unless 
 the hoarseness of Mdlle. Barrjetta in an ingenue part could 
 be counted as such. 
 
 M. EMILE ZOLA'S " L'Assommoir" may be said to 
 represent a crisis in the long struggle between Idealists 
 and Naturalists. Great, therefore, was the excitement pro- 
 duced in Paris when a dramatic version of the novel was 
 announced, a presentation of its most daring and salient 
 features under "the fierce light that beats upon a stage" 
 being confidently expected. It can hardly be said, how- 
 ever, that this expectation was fulfilled in the work given 
 at the Ambigu. The protracted fight between the rival 
 washerwomen was reduced to the discharge of one or 
 two pailfuls of water by each combatant, and to a single 
 encounter with the battoirs, the more gross details of the 
 engagement being necessarily suppressed. The disgust- 
 ing effects of intoxication, though presented even too 
 
260 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 vividly, were curtailed and softened, and much besides 
 that produced revulsion in the reader was most properly 
 withheld from the spectator. " Drink," the version of 
 " L'Assommoir," by Mr. Charles Reade, produced on Mon- 
 day, avoids still more completely the scenes that were 
 most objected to in the book; so that neither in Paris nor 
 in London has the question been clearly raised in a dra- 
 matic shape whether the facts of real life carry with them 
 an inherent right to reproduction in art. Of " Drink" it 
 may be said that it contains no scene that has not its fair 
 vindication in the motives of the piece. The baneful 
 effects of drunkenness cannot, of course, be set forth 
 without some painful and offensive details, but these 
 are no further exhibited than the necessary connection 
 between cause and consequence makes inevitable. Mr. 
 Reade's drama resolves itself into a picture of domestic 
 happiness invaded and ruined by a fatal propensity. 
 
 Its success was due to a combination of causes. 
 " Drink " is not a strongly built play. It consists rather 
 of a succession of tableaux than of a well-knit story. 
 The persons who figure in it do not greatly engage 
 interest either by their worth or by their individuality, 
 nor is the interest which they do excite either of a high or 
 subtle kind. The positions in which they appear, how- 
 ever, are novel and lifelike. As much may be said of the 
 scenery, which includes some striking and characteristic 
 views of Paris. Finally, Mr. Charles Warner's rendering 
 oiCoupeau the central figure of the group was of marked 
 excellence. The actor's genial tenderness and bonhomie as 
 the husband and father, in the scene which ends with his 
 fall from the scaffold one of the chief effects of the piece 
 were delightfully easy and natural, and his picture in 
 the closing scene of the drunkard alternately repelled and 
 magnetised by the fatal bottle, then a prey to the terrible 
 spectres which crowd upon his delirium, merits no com- 
 mon praise. Much of his acting here was as subdued and 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 261 
 
 varied as it was truthful and impressive, while the climax 
 of his terror, though appalling and necessarily repellent, 
 was not overcharged. To Mr. William Rignold fell the 
 part of the model artisan Gouget, who rises to be a master 
 in his craft. The Gouget of " Drink" has nothing of the 
 shy taciturnity which in the novel half conceals his vein 
 of tenderness. On the contrary, he is bluff and outspoken. 
 Mr. Rignold was not deficient in vigour. He delivered 
 his temperance homilies with an energy that denoted con- 
 viction. His fault is that in his impersonation he has 
 only one manner. Sturdy honesty of style will not cover 
 all the requirements of a character even so much on the 
 surface as the Gouget of " Drink". Mr. Redmund had 
 few opportunities as the insidious rascal Lantier ; he did 
 not turn these few to the best account. A word of com- 
 mendation is due to Mr. T. P. Haynes, who infused into 
 the inebriety of Mcs Bottes a touch of that sly enjoyment 
 with which M. Dailly invests the same personage in Paris. 
 Miss Amy Roselle, capable of strong indignation, but 
 frank, winning, and devoted, was quite equal to the general 
 claims of Gervaise ; in the crisis of pathos and suffering 
 she left, however, something to be desired. Miss Ada 
 Murray gave such open warning of her evil dispositions by 
 the fixed sinister look that it was marvellous Gervaise 
 could have been deceived by her professions of forgiveness 
 and friendship. The gay, good-hearted Phcebe Sage an 
 interpolation of the dramatist was agreeably sketched by 
 Miss Fanny Leslie. A little lady named Katie Barry 
 represented simply and effectively the character of Nana, 
 Coupeau's daughter. It is a relief to find that in " Drink " 
 Nana remains a child throughout, and does not develop 
 to the precocious vice of the grown-up girl. 
 
 AMONG the representations of the Comedie Fran9aise June 14, 1870. 
 those of the plays of Alfred de Musset and Victor Hugo 
 
262 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 have highest interest. The popularity of " Hernani " is 
 attributable in a great measure to the attractions of Mdlle. 
 Bernhardt, and in a less degree to the kind of prejudice 
 which successive governments have displayed with regard 
 to the dramas of its author. No such causes operate 
 with regard to " Les Caprices de Marianne " ; no special 
 excellence of cast arrests attention, and no significance, 
 political or social, attaches to the representation. The 
 works of Musset, however, stand by themselves, and have 
 a charm which is wholly their own. Written in a spirit 
 of cynicism which recalls Heine, they have a sadness 
 deeper, because more human, than the gloom of the great 
 German lyrist, while in imagination they stand before all 
 contemporary work. " Les Caprices de Marianne " is a 
 combination of qualities one might almost believe irrecon- 
 cilable. In vividness of description and in colour it is like 
 a tale of Boccaccio ; in the way it blends what is real with 
 what is fantastic it shows the influence of Shakspeare. 
 Its action passes in Naples, and the life of mediaeval Italy 
 is depicted with a fidelity that brings each detail before 
 the eyes, yet the scene is in other respects as imaginary 
 as the forest of Arden. It is possible to fancy that the 
 whole is inspired by " Romeo and Juliet ". Celio is a 
 French Romeo, and Marianne, the heroine, is of course 
 a married Juliet. Octave, with his graceful mirth and 
 polished banter, is Mercutio. It is true things go wrong. 
 Juliet loves Mercutio and not Romeo, and Romeo, slain 
 in the moment of anticipated happiness, leaves Mercutio 
 the hopeless task of avenging him. This resemblance 
 may be fanciful. What is not fanciful is that a piece 
 written in prose is yet the most exquisite poetry, and that 
 a termination grim, tender, and tragic awaits scenes which 
 are humorous or cynical, and sometimes almost playful in 
 treatment. 
 
 A piece of this description is available for the stage 
 under no other conditions than those now realised. The 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 263 
 
 conventional style of acting and the conventional style 
 of speech employed in classic or quasi-classic work are 
 indispensable, and the slightest approach to a realistic 
 exposition would be fatal. When M. Delaunay praises 
 the vintage that has grown on the slopes of Vesuvius or 
 bids an eternal farewell to the happy sports beneath the 
 burning summer twilights ; when M. Got, as Claudio, 
 rebukes his grim valet Tibia for wishing him to address 
 Hermia, " Y penses-tu ? La mere d'un jeune homme 
 que je serai peut-etre oblige de faire poignarder ce soir 
 meme ! Sa propre mere, Tibia ! Fi done ! je ne recon- 
 nais la ton habitude des convenances " ; and when M. 
 Worms, as Celio, rushes despairing to meet that death for 
 love's sake which he regards as a blessing rather than a 
 misfortune, the spirit of the play and its fragrance are 
 perfectly expressed. 
 
 That the performance of " Hernani " proved the 
 greatest success of the season, so far as this has yet 
 extended, is attributable to Mdlle. Bernhardt. The 
 general representation had conspicuous merits. It is a 
 treat of a high order to see the youth of Spain presented 
 by those who wear the cloak and sword as though their 
 shoulders and loins had been always familiar with them. 
 It is a delight to find preserved an atmosphere of passion, 
 voluptuousness, and romance, into which enters no ele- 
 ment or suggestion of every-day life. Excellent as are 
 these things, something more is required to elevate the 
 performance into grandeur. From the admirable to the 
 sublime is a wide step. That the interval between the 
 two was bridged is wholly attributable to Mdlle. Bern- 
 hardt. During the early acts there was nothing to sug- 
 gest what was to follow. Looking admirably picturesque 
 in a mediaeval dress, with slashed sleeves, and frills round 
 the neck which set off the lovely carriage of the head, 
 Mdlle. Bernhardt took, as it seemed, but a moderate 
 interest in the scenes before her. Hypercriticism might 
 
264 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 almost have suggested that her attitudes, supremely 
 graceful as they seemed, were not quite unstudied, and 
 that more fitful and uncertain moods should be shown by 
 one who was the subject of accidents so strange and 
 surprises so startling. Amends for all were made, how- 
 ever, in the fifth act. In this the languor and the ripe 
 and passionate contentment of the woman when her long- 
 deferred nuptials were at length brought about proved the 
 prelude to one of those electrical displays of passion 
 which, since the disappearance of Rachel, have been 
 unknown upon the stage. It is impossible after once 
 seeing them to recall the various changes by which the 
 quick succeeding emotions were indicated. The bursts 
 of wild, savage energy, the convulsive clasp in which 
 she locks the living man whom she may not hold in 
 life, the abject despair of her supplications, the sublime 
 and desperate resolution with which she shares or anti- 
 cipates her lover's fate, and the sweet, sad melody of her 
 farewell and death, succeed each other with such swiftness 
 they are blended one with another, and the memory finds 
 it difficult to disentangle them. Acting like this has, 
 however, the impress of absolute genius, and the world 
 needs have no doubt that it has the opportunity of con- 
 templating such art as by its appearance marks an epoch. 
 M. Worms, as Don Carlos, acts with remarkable dignity 
 and force, and maintains a truly regal presence. M. 
 Maubant gives due impressiveness to the character of Ruy 
 Gomez, though he looks almost too stalwart for one whose 
 weakness is a subject of constant allusion. M. Mounet- 
 Sully has burning intensity, and his expression is charged 
 with the strongest emotion. He is not free, however, 
 from rodomontade. Other parts were well sustained, but 
 no other character has sufficient importance to call for 
 comment. 
 
 Some of the most brilliant writing and some of the 
 finest characterisation we owe to M. Alexandre Dumas 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 265 
 
 fils are exhibited in his play " Le Demi-Monde, " which 
 has at length sailed through the rocks of the censure into 
 the haven of representation. Its termination is not too 
 manly, according to English ideas, and would certainly 
 be rejected in an English play. What else there is in the 
 work beyond its title to wound English susceptibilities is 
 not easily to be seen. The character of the hero, Olivier 
 de Jalin, is drawn with much spirit, and is presented in 
 delightful fashion by M. Delaunay, whose gaiety is 
 thoroughly natural and unforced. The other characters 
 are presented satisfactorily by MM. Febvre and Thiron, 
 Mesdames Jouassain, Croizette, and Bianca. In Suzanne 
 d'Ange, a part first played by Rose Cheri, Mdlle. Croizette 
 is seen at her best. She does not, however, interfere in 
 any respect with memories of her predecessor. Mdlle. 
 Broisat is again charming as an ingenue. 
 
 The principal charm in " Le Marquis de Villemer " 
 consists in the extreme refinement and distinction of 
 character of those by whom a simple action is conducted. 
 In the case of this piece also the slightest shade of exag- 
 geration would be fatal to the effect. M. Delaunay as 
 the Due, M. Worms as the Marquis, Mdlle. Broisat as 
 Caroline de St. Geneix, and Mdlle. Madeleine Brohan as 
 the Marquise preserve the aroma of the whole, and invest 
 with extreme tenderness the simplest and most common- 
 place of stories, that of a mother submitting to her son's 
 union with a girl who has lived in her house in the receipt 
 of wages. 
 
 " La Joie fait Peur " of Madame de Girardin reveals 
 M. Got in the familiar part of Noel, and Madame Favart 
 in that of Madame Desaubicrs, of which she gives a very 
 powerful representation. M. Delaunay is not too well 
 suited to the role of Adrien. 
 
 The classic representations must be quickly dismissed. 
 " Le Menteur " shows M. Delaunay at his very best, 
 investing the character of Dor ante with a seductiveness 
 
266 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 which is quite irresistible. With this the character 
 remains in the domain of comedy ; without it and no 
 English actor of the present generation has shown it it 
 drops into that of farce. M. Got is superb as Cliton, the 
 sympathetic and bewildered valet of the hero, and M. 
 Maubant, who makes his first appearance in England, is 
 impressive as G ironic. In " Le Medecin malgre Lui," M. 
 Got gave a more forcible, if not more finished, piece of 
 acting as Sganarelle and M. Coquelin cadet was droll as 
 Lucas. " Tartuffe " is noteworthy on account of the 
 extreme plausibility with which M. Febvre invested the 
 hero. Neither the oiliness which we are accustomed to 
 associate with the character nor the ferocity sometimes 
 displayed after detection and exposure was there. It was 
 by instinct rather than observation that Valere, Damis, 
 Cleante, and Elmire detected his intentions. In the 
 classic as in the modern repertoire the minor parts were 
 almost invariably well sustained. 
 
 " Mdlle. de Belle Isle " was, in some respects, the 
 greatest success yet obtained. In spite of its admiration 
 for the comedy of M. Dumas j^/s, the audience grows a little 
 weary of the long disquisitions by which the author enforces 
 his favourite theories. It received accordingly with de- 
 light a play of his father's, in which all is brisk, sparkling, 
 intelligible, and amusing, if a trifle free. It is conceivable, 
 indeed, that a long familiarity with the didactic drama 
 may lead to a reaction in favour of more stimulating fare. 
 The performance is chiefly noteworthy for the triumph of 
 M. Delaunay as Richelieu. Mdlle. Broisat is tender as 
 Mdlle. de Belle Isle, and in the stronger scenes shows 
 power, without, however, rising fully to their require- 
 ments. M. Febvre wants lightness as the Chevalier 
 d'Aubigny. In the stage management of this play there 
 is much to be desired. " II faut qu'une Porte soit ouverte 
 ou fermee " was adequately presented by M. Prudhon and 
 Mdlle. Lloyd. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 267 
 
 THE value of the triumph obtained by the Comedie June 21, 1879. 
 Fran9aise on its visit to London is, so far as the general 
 body is concerned, diminished by the extreme popularity 
 of one of the company. While a respectable amount of 
 enthusiasm attends ordinary performances, those occasions 
 on which Mdlle. Bernhardt appears create what is cur- 
 rently called a furore. It is easy to imagine a circum- 
 stance like this exercising a depressing influence upon a 
 body of artists whose special aim is to supply an interpre- 
 tation of dramatic work in which everything is subordi- 
 nated to general effect, and no individual prominence, 
 beyond what is incidental to the character of the piece 
 performed, is sought for or allowed. This feeling is likely 
 to be intensified when, on the strength of personal popu- 
 larity and the need there is for her services, backed up, it 
 may well be supposed, by feminine wilfulness and insub- 
 ordination, the actress who thus stands forth from her 
 fellows takes means still further to separate herself from 
 them by giving outside performances at which they do not 
 assist. That such feelings should assert themselves in the 
 Comedie Frangaise is natural and pardonable, if, indeed, 
 it is not inevitable. None the less it is foolish. What in 
 most members of the company is fine and highly culti- 
 vated talent is in Mdlle. Bernhardt genius. We are not 
 disposed to plunge into the sea of troubles that awaits 
 those who attempt a definition of the quality thus named. 
 We content ourselves with a bare assertion that the 
 powers of dramatic exposition possessed by this lady 
 reach this point. The present generation, which pos- 
 sesses few and distant recollections of Rachel, the last 
 actress of the highest order who belonged to the Comedie 
 Frangaise, attests, it may be too warmly, certainly with 
 something of fanaticism, its delight in a class of acting 
 which seemed to have been lost to the stage, and in so 
 doing contributes to spoil what it so profoundly admires 
 and enjoys. Prudential considerations are not likely to 
 
268 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 weigh with the public, nor can they be expected to do 
 so. What the Comedie Franaise, if it consults its own 
 interests, will do, and indeed does, is to take the gifts the 
 gods provide, and maintain as long as it can a connection 
 that may in time become impossible. Genius is an 
 uncomfortable and unmanageable thing, and in its asso- 
 ciation with mediocrity or even with excellence it brings 
 endless confusion and discord. The world seldom knows 
 how to treat it, and still more seldom does it know how to 
 treat itself. None the less it must be left to itself. It is 
 impossible to chain it as a watch-dog to a kennel, or to 
 shut it like domestic cattle in a pen. It is often incon- 
 venient and ridiculous, resembling, as Baudelaire says of 
 the poet, the albatross, the 
 
 Prince des nuees 
 
 Qui hante la tempete et se rit de 1'archer ; 
 Exile sur le sol au milieu des huees, 
 Ses ailes de geant 1'empechent de marcher. 
 
 These counsels are given with no intention to lecture the 
 Comedie Fran9aise, which has shown full capacity to 
 manage its own affairs, but because the matters dealt with 
 have provoked complaints in English newspapers which 
 have been copied into French journals, and there seems a 
 chance that the visit to London, which financially and 
 artistically is a conspicuous success, may prove the con- 
 trary as regards the harmony and even the well-being of 
 the institution. 
 
 Of the pieces in which Mdlle. Bernhardt has yet ap- 
 peared, " Phedre " has produced the most profound effect. 
 The admirable limpidity of diction of the actress gives to 
 the verse of Racine its full value, and her electrical bursts 
 of passion render the stronger scenes profoundly impres- 
 sive. In the course of the five years during which Mdlle. 
 Bernhardt has held possession of this role at the Theatre 
 Fran9ais, she has converted what at first was a fine and 
 original conception into a finished and magnificent piece 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 269 
 
 of acting. On the mingled elements of seduction and 
 humiliation she exhibits in the second act we have dwelt. 
 In contrast absolutely marvellous with these are the 
 almost lurid gaze with which she contemplates the crime 
 that puts the seal on her baseness, the shuddering horror 
 with which she speaks of her appearance to answer 
 in hell at the tribunal of her father for crimes before 
 unheard of, and the remarkable self-conquest indicated 
 in the closing scene, when the spirit seems by its 
 energy to triumph over dissolution, and compel death 
 itself to wait till the latest word of her dismal confession 
 is made. In this character the interest of the play centres. 
 It is pleasant to be able to speak highly of the Hippolyte of 
 M. Mounet-Sully, the Aricie of Mdlle. Martin, which was 
 excellent, and the CEnone of Madame Provost-Ponsin. 
 The general interpretation is, indeed, highly to be com- 
 mended. 
 
 Voltaire's tragedy of " Zaire " is better than its repu- 
 tation. Its plot is interesting, the conflict in the bosom of 
 the heroine, who, while loving passionately her Moham- 
 medan captor, discovers she is a Lusignan, and is bound 
 by creed, by family ties, and by family entreaties to reject 
 him, leading to some very strong and original situations. 
 In his " Lettre a M. de la Roque " Voltaire says : 
 " ' Zaire ' est la premiere piece de theatre dans laquelle 
 j'aie ose m'abandonner a toute la sensibilite de mon coeur ; 
 c'est la seule tragedie tendre que j'aie faite. Je croyais, 
 dans 1'age meme des passions les plus vives, que 1'amour 
 n'etait point fait pour le theatre tragique. Je ne regardais 
 cette faiblesse que comme un defaut charmant qui avilis- 
 sait 1'art des Sophocle." In this case departure from 
 rules led to results that were never obtained by their 
 observance, and " Zaire " may dispute with any of Voltaire's 
 dramas the right to rank as his masterpiece. The cha- 
 racter of the heroine offers few opportunities for the 
 display of tragic passion, and it is accordingly the more 
 
270 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 tender side of Mdlle. Bernhardt's art which is revealed. 
 One or two magnificent outbursts showed the nervous 
 power the actress possesses. The whole performance con- 
 veyed, however, a notion of fatigue and lassitude. M. 
 Mounet-Sully as Orosmane presented an admirable picture. 
 He is, according to English theories of art, wanting in the 
 art of repose. M. Maubant as Lusignan looked well fitted 
 to lead the Christian hosts to combat with the Pagans, but 
 forgot apparently that his voice as well as his frame have 
 been injured by long confinement, and that when he 
 appears he is practically moribund. The Slave of M. 
 Davrigny was magnificently made up ; a more sinister- 
 looking figure never kept watch in a seraglio. Garrick 
 played Lusignan in Aaron Hill's version of " Zaire," which, 
 under the title of " Zara," takes rank as the best of Hill's 
 dramatic works. Mrs. Siddons subsequently appeared as 
 the heroine. Bond, the first Lusignan at the production 
 of " Zara " at Drury Lane, I2th January, 1736, fainted on 
 the stage, was carried home, and died next morning. It 
 is curious to find Reed taxing Hill with plagiarism from a 
 playwright named Hudson, while Voltaire's share in the 
 work passes unacknowledged or unknown. 
 
 In " Le Sphinx" Mdlle. Bernhardt shared the honours 
 of the performance with Mdlle. Croizette. The actress 
 last named displayed remarkable passion in her original 
 role of Blanche, and the scene of her death by the poison 
 contained in the bezel of her ring was a marvellous piece 
 of stage realism. Mdlle. Bernhardt meantime had little 
 to do until the fourth act, when a burst of frenzy startled 
 those who had before admired the perfection of her ordi- 
 nary method. M. Worms as Savigny had a difficult part, 
 in which he acquitted himself well. M. Maubant was the 
 Amiral ; M. Febvre was well got up, and displayed his 
 customary stolidity as Lord Astley ; and M. Coquelin 
 cadet went dangerously near extravagance as Ulric the 
 musician. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 271 
 
 " Le Gendre de M. Poirier" gave opportunity for a 
 display of masterly acting by M. Got as Poirier and M. 
 Delaunay as the Marquis. So finely contrasted were these 
 two performances, the play proved the most exhilarating 
 that has yet been given. Mdlle. Croizette as Antoinette 
 was also excellent, and MM. Thiron, Barre, and Garraud 
 supplied three pictures each in its way unsurpassable. 
 
 " L'Ami Fritz " is so familiar in England it is needless 
 to dwell upon it further than to say that M. Febvre plays 
 once more in admirable style the part of Fritz Kobus the 
 young Alsatian farmer, the best in his repertoire, in which 
 he has already appeared in London. M. Got gives a 
 thoughtful and conscientious performance of the Rabbi 
 David. M. Coquelin cadet is droll as Frederic, and Mdlle. 
 Reichemberg sympathetic as Suzel. 
 
 Amongless important works, "LeLuthierde Cremone" 
 deserves notice for the admirable acting of M. Coquelin as 
 Filippo, and " Le Petit Hotel " for the extreme drollery of 
 the same actor as Boismartin. There remains only to be 
 mentioned " Les Plaideurs " of Racine, which, with " Le 
 Misanthrope," was given at the morning performance of 
 last Saturday, and introduced M. Got in the part of 
 L'Intime, in which, so far as the stage of to-day is 
 concerned, he is quite unapproachable. 
 
 IF the most popular portion of the repertoire of the June 28, 1879. 
 Comedie Franaise is found in the drama of M. Victor 
 Hugo, that of Alfred de Musset comes in general estima- 
 tion immediately behind it. More interest indeed, of a 
 kind, attaches to the performance of " Les Caprices de 
 Marianne " or " On ne Badine pas avec 1'Amour " than 
 to that of " Hernani " or " Ruy Bias ". Translations of 
 the plays of M. Hugo are not unknown, and one or two 
 of them have attained considerable popularity upon the 
 stage. The comedies or the proverbs of Musset mean- 
 
272 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 while defy the translator, and their representation calls 
 for a class of acting of which our stage knows nothing. 
 Not easy is it, indeed, to see, after the retirement of M. 
 Delaunay, whenever that event may take place, how these 
 works are to remain on the stage. M. Delaunay is the 
 ideal of Valentin and Perdican, parts in which no other 
 actor has shown a capacity to approach him. It will be 
 a great misfortune if the works of Musset, which have 
 a cachet as distinct as that of M. Hugo, or indeed of 
 Shakspeare, are driven from the stage for the want of 
 interpreters. The representation of " II ne faut jurer de 
 Rien " is noteworthy for the excellent performances of M. 
 Delaunay as Valentin and Mdlle. Madeleine Brohan as 
 La Baronne, and for the complete failure of M. Got as 
 L'Abbe. When, eight years ago, M. Got played L'Abbe, 
 it was one of the best parts in his repertoire. It was dim- 
 cult to estimate too highly the powers of an actor who 
 filled up with art so consummate a character the mere 
 outline of which was presented. Unfortunately the great 
 actor is sometimes as vain as the small. Because he 
 made much of a part M. Got seeks to make more, the 
 result being that he completely overbalances himself, and 
 that the performance is poor, and as an attempted inter- 
 pretation contemptible. A village cure is often, doubtless, 
 ridiculous enough. An abbe, however, who plays piquet 
 with la baronne, even though he may undertake parish 
 work and have appointments with the sacristan and the 
 beadle, is not in the habit of wearing a preposterous hat 
 and running about like a madman. Strange indeed is it 
 to see a man such as M. Got, whose place is at the very top 
 of his profession, fall into an error which springs ordi- 
 narily from the ill-regulated vanity and ambition of youth. 
 M. Got's very eminence is, however, a reason why an 
 exhibition like this should incur gravest condemnation. 
 As La Baronne Mdlle. Madeleine Brohan is perfect. Her 
 dignity and repose of style are wholly suited to the part 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 273 
 
 M. Delaunay meanwhile, as Valentin, displays to highest 
 advantage the animal spirits and conceit which are the 
 foundation of the character, and steers entirely clear of 
 the vulgarity to which a less delicate interpretation would 
 lead. M. Thiron is a good Vanbuck and Mdlle. Reichem- 
 berg an agreeable Cecile. 
 
 As " Barberine " is not in the actual repertoire of the 
 Comedie Francaise, and as " Le Chandelier " is, for obvi- 
 ous reasons, not likely to be given in England, the more 
 dramatic works of Musset are exhausted, so far as the 
 English stage is concerned, with the production of " On 
 ne Badine pas avec I'Amour ". 
 
 This favourite play is perhaps the most characteristic 
 of Musset's dramas. In none other are tenderness and 
 passion so strangely blended with mockery, in none other 
 is the full value shown of a method which unites an 
 intensity almost Shakspearian to a heat of imaginative 
 expression suggestive of Byron, and a serious and cynical 
 humour the direct bequest of Heine. In the outset the 
 play is as much a pastoral as the " Aminta," the " Fi- 
 dalma," the " Pastor Fido," or any of the dramatic idyls 
 of the Italians. The end of all is death, however, and the 
 motto of the play might be taken from Shakspeare : 
 
 Golden lads and girls all must 
 
 As chimney-sweepers come to dust. 
 
 A difficult task is accomplished in presenting a piece of 
 this kind in a manner that shall produce no feeling of 
 disenchantment. More than this is done in the present 
 instance. M. Delaunay is the Perdican of the play, and 
 his petulant wooing of Rosette is perfect ; Mdlle. Croizette 
 is a conceivable Camille ; and Mdlle. Reichemberg is an 
 agreeable Rosette. It is, however, strange to say, in the 
 minor characters that the triumph over difficulties is most 
 remarkable. Nothing can well be better than the presen- 
 tation by M. Truffier of the Chceur des Jeunes Gens, or that 
 
 18 
 
 
274 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 by M. Richard of the Chceur des Vieillards. The two 
 pedants and gourmands, Bridaine and Blasius, were fairly 
 depicted, and the Baron of M. Thiron and the Dame 
 Pluche of Madame Jouassain were excellent. A more 
 attractive performance is not often seen on the stage. 
 
 " Le Jeu de 1'Amour et du Hasard " of Marivaux 
 proved one of the brightest and most attractive perform- 
 ances yet given. The Pasquin (Arlequin in the original) 
 of M. Coquelin is an absolutely unsurpassable perform- 
 ance, and the Lisette of Mdlle. Samary is full of brightness 
 and animation. M. Barre as Orgon, M. Prudhon as 
 Dor ante, M. Boucher as Mario, and Mdlle. Broisat as 
 Silvia made up a cast which left nothing to desire. The 
 action of this piece is more interesting than that of " She 
 Stoops to Conquer," with which it is natural to compare 
 it, since the episode of the stolen casket, taken by Gold- 
 smith from Albumazar, distracts the attention, which in 
 " Le Jeu de 1'Amour et du Hasard " is entirely fixed on 
 the romantic portion of the story. Marivaux's comedy 
 was produced at the Theatre des Italians in 1730, while 
 that of Goldsmith did not appear at Covent Garden till 
 forty-three years later. 
 
 In the " Gringoire " of M. Theodore de Banville, a 
 graceful dramatic sketch, which was given on the same 
 night as " On ne Badine pas avec 1'Amour," and had no 
 need to blush at the association, M. Coquelin showed as 
 Gringoire, the balladin whom, by an anachronism, M. 
 Hugo introduced into " Notre Dame de Paris," the tender 
 and emotional side of his genius. M. Maubant makes up 
 as a rather substantial Louis XL, and M. Sylvain is a 
 sinister Olivier le Daim. The trifle obtained an enthu- 
 siastic reception, the recitation of the " Ballade des 
 Pendus " and that of the " Ballade des Pauvres Gens " 
 eliciting loud and well-deserved applause. 
 
 " Mdlle. de la Seigliere " is an excellent and a 
 thoroughly characteristic work of M. Jules Sandeau. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 With this version of one of his own novels M. Sandeau 
 made his debut as a dramatist, and it has now for close 
 on thirty years retained its place as a masterpiece. Its 
 success is attributable in part to the thoroughly sym- 
 pathetic nature of the plot, in part to the admirable 
 picture it supplies of an old aristocrat " fallen on evil 
 times ". The Marquis de la Seigliere is one of the finest 
 types of modern fiction. The revolution has passed over 
 France with no other result than sending him to spend a 
 quarter of a century in exile in Germany. The Emperor 
 is M. de Buonaparte, and a huissier of the Court, or even 
 an avocat, is a being who is to be frightened out of his 
 house by the threat of having his ears cut off. He is, 
 indeed, a grand seigneur of the time of Louis XVI., and 
 has yielded no single right that has belonged to his 
 ancestors. The spectacle of a man such as this in open 
 conflict with Napoleonic ideas has extreme interest, and 
 as the psychology of the play is backed up by a genuine 
 love interest, the result is good. M. Thiron is scarcely 
 strong enough for a character such as the Marquis, and pre- 
 sents the comic aspect of his physiognomy rather than 
 the more dignified. M. Coquelin gives a capital picture 
 of the avocat Destournelles, Mdlle. Madeleine Brohan is 
 admirable in all respects as La Baronne, and Mdlle. 
 Broisat as the heroine displays grace and emotional 
 power. 
 
 In spite of the excellent performance by Madame 
 Favart of the part of Madame Bernard and M. Coquelin's 
 humour as Leopold, the performance of " Les Fourcham- 
 bault " is not specially noteworthy. M. Got's get-up 
 as Bernard is fine, and M. Barre as Fourchambault and 
 Madame Provost- Ponsin as Madame Fourchambault are 
 satisfactory. The interpretation of "The Crisis," Mr. 
 Albery's version of the play, had points which would 
 compare favourably with that now given. 
 
 
276 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 THOUGH inferior in every respect to " Le Mariage de 
 Figaro," " Le Barbier de Seville" of Beaumarchais is 
 interesting, both for its characterisation and for the merits 
 of its dialogue. Taking the accepted types of the drama 
 of Moliere and of Regnard, Beaumarchais elevated 
 Leandre and Eraste into Almaviva, and Mascarille and 
 Crispin into Figaro. That he showed the commence- 
 ment of that rebellion of the valet against the ill-treat- 
 ment and blows to which he had been accustomed, which 
 was one of the many indications to the coming revolution, 
 while his predecessors are silent concerning it, must of 
 course be attributed to the later period at which he 
 w r rote. The hundred years which elapsed betw r een the 
 production of " L'Avare " and that of " Le Barbier de 
 Seville " had witnessed little absolute change, but much 
 preparation for change. The forces which were to result 
 in upheaval had accumulated. What difference had 
 arisen in the relation between master and servant is shown 
 by comparing the language of Maitre Jacques in "L'Avare" 
 with that of Figaro in " Le Barbier de Seville ". " Passe 
 encore pour mon maitre," says the former, when he has 
 been beaten by Harpagon, " il a quelque droit de me 
 battre " ; while Figaro, acknowledging the existence of a 
 similar state of things, but rebelling against it, avoids 
 notice of his superiors: "Je me crus trop heureux d'en 
 etre oublie, persuade qu'un grand nous fait assez de bien 
 quand il ne nous fait pas de mal". For the rest the story 
 is a pleasant if farcical imbroglio, with theatrical and 
 original situations, which lost their freshness in sub- 
 sequent days, but belong, so far as invention is concerned, 
 to Beaumarchais ; the dialogue is admirably bright, and 
 its animal spirits are irresistible. M. Coquelin's Figaro 
 is unsurpassable. By physical gifts as by training, M. 
 Coquelin is specially qualified for this class of parts, of 
 which he is the best living representative, and, indeed, 
 the best representative the present generation has seen. 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 2JJ 
 
 M. Febvre's Le Comte was moderately satisfactory, and 
 M. Coquelin cadet's Bazile had a thoroughly comic phy- 
 siognomy. Mdlle. Barretta was Rosine, and M. Thiron 
 Bartholo. 
 
 In " L'Avare " M. Got gave a representation of Har- 
 pagon altogether masterly. In the treatment of the passion 
 of avarice Moliere seems for once to have gone outside his 
 usual bounds, and the scene in which Harpagon, when 
 robbed, seizes upon himself as the imagined robber, and 
 declares his wish to hang all mankind, is conceived 
 and executed in a spirit not unlike that which influenced 
 Marlowe when he wrote the " Jew of Malta ". Of the 
 opportunities afforded him M. Got took full advantage, 
 and the tragical side of the character, for such it may 
 almost be called, received fine and most powerful inter- 
 pretation. With M. Delaunay as Cleante, M. Worms as 
 Valere, M. Thiron as Maitre Jacques, M. Coquelin cadet as 
 Lafleche, and Mdlle. Dinah-Felix as Frosine, this play 
 received a brilliant interpretation. The voice of Mdlle. 
 Barretta, who played Elise, is still so affected by cold 
 that its state amounts to a disqualification for the stage. 
 In " Le Depit Amoureux," which is played in two acts, 
 Mdlle. Samary is a piquant Marinette, M. Coquelin cadet 
 an amusing Gros-Rene, and M. Truffier a satisfactory 
 Mascarille. 
 
 Leaving on one side the character of Hermione, in 
 which Rachel obtained a brilliant success, Mdlle. Bern- 
 hardt took, in the revival of " Andromaque," the subor- 
 dinate and comparatively colourless character of And- 
 romaque. In this she has little to do except to display 
 the grief and desolation of a faithful consort mourning 
 over her dead lord. At one point, however, when Pyrrhus 
 makes the death of her son the penalty for the rejection 
 of his suit, an opportunity is afforded of which the actress 
 took instant advantage. Her recoil of horror, and the 
 manner in which she flung herself at the feet of her-- 
 
278 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 conqueror, had the charm and power which characterise 
 her acting at its best. That the entire performance had 
 infinite grace and delicacy need scarcely be said. M. 
 Mounet-Sully acted very finely as Oreste. He has 
 excellent gifts, but yields to a temptation to abuse his 
 magnificent voice. Mdlle. Dudlay played with passion 
 as Hermione, but allowed her method to be seen. She 
 is a clever and thoughtful student, but has shown as 
 yet no power to go out of herself. M. Sylvain's Pyrrhus 
 merits a word of praise. " L'Etincelle " of M. Pailleron, 
 a piece of no special merit, deserves attention on account 
 of the display of archness of Mdlle. Samary in a character 
 half ingenue, half romp. M. Delaunay and Mdlle. Croizette 
 play well the two lovers in whose breast Vetincelle is 
 lighted. 
 
 The performance of " Ruy Bias," on which many 
 expectations had been built, resulted in disappointment. 
 At one or two points Mdlle. Bernhardt showed her full 
 power, but her entire presentation is best described as 
 graceful and picturesque. There is little for the actress 
 to do except to express ennui at court life, and a strong 
 yearning for love to break the monotony of an existence 
 which is, in fact, imprisonment. When in the gallant 
 courtier the queen finds the unknown worshipper whose 
 silent homage has long been her one interest in life, 
 she displays some of that languorous charm which is a 
 valuable portion of her means in art ; when subsequently, 
 on his revealing himself as the patriot whose chief aim is 
 the salvation of his country, she yields to the impulses 
 that beset and besiege her, and stoops and kisses him on 
 the forehead, the contact, slight as it is, almost over- 
 masters her, and supreme longing and utter incapacity to 
 resist are shown with magic skill. At last, when the 
 climax is reached, and she finds her lover at her feet, 
 dying at what he takes to be her bidding, there is one 
 burst of supreme passion, in which she clasps his head to 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 279 
 
 her bosom, fondles it, and recoils shuddering from the 
 lips already stiffening with death which she presses against 
 her own. In these situations the acting was fine, and at 
 the point last named it was magnificent. M. Mounet- 
 Sully's Ruy Bias was a failure so complete it does not 
 even call for criticism. While disapproving always of M. 
 Mounet-Sully's method, we have seen in his acting proof 
 of conception, and have found some of his outbursts im- 
 pressive. In " Ruy Bias," until the last act was reached, 
 he was simply wearisome. His acting had not even the 
 picturesqueness in which generally it has never failed. 
 Ruy Bias among the grandees of the Spanish Court 
 looked the lackey he was, and his rodomontades could 
 never have secured him anything beyond personal chas- 
 tisement. It is melancholy to contemplate a failure so 
 complete. In the last act one or two powerful bursts 
 elicited from the audience warm recognition, and proved 
 the actor capable of an interpretation altogether different 
 from that he gave. M. Coquelin's Don Cesar was a 
 singularly bright and virile performance, full of colour 
 and displaying admirably the more imaginative side of 
 M. Coquelin's talents. M. Febvre was an admirable Don 
 Salluste. Most of the subordinate characters were well 
 played, and many of the figures about the Spanish Court 
 had striking individuality. 
 
 The performance of " Mercadet le Faiseur " left little 
 to desire. M. Got, whose masterpiece it is, played the 
 hero in a style quite unsurpassable, from a French stand- 
 point. That the kind of alternate rebuke and cajolery he 
 employed would prove effective with English creditors 
 may be doubted. It is not, however, with English credi- 
 tors he has to deal. It is, meanwhile, difficult to praise 
 too highly the perfection of detail in his acting and the 
 breadth of the general result. Excellent support was 
 afforded him by M. Febvre, whose De la Brive was 
 equally excellent in make-up and in acting, by M. Barre 
 
280 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 as Verdelin, M. Coquelin cadet as Violette, the lachrymose 
 creditor, and M. Truffier as Justin. The claim of 
 " Mercadet " to rank as a comic masterpiece becomes 
 more evident with each successive representation. With 
 it was given " L'Ete de la Saint-Martin," a clever little 
 one-act piece of MM. Meilhac and Halevy, which has 
 been previously seen in England, and was on this occasion 
 very naturally and pleasantly played by MM. Thiron 
 and Prudhon, and Mesdames Jouassain and Barretta. 
 
 July 21, 1879. " LE MARIAGE DE VICTORINE" is announced by George 
 Sand as having been written " pour faire suite au ' Philo- 
 sophe sans le savoir ' de Sedaine ". Like most continua- 
 tions it is weaker than the original. To say this will 
 appear to most English readers, to whom the name of 
 Sedaine conveys nothing whatever, a condemnation of 
 the modern writer. Those, however, who, like George 
 Sand herself, know the value of that French Ben Jonson, 
 who commenced life as a mason to end it as a member of 
 the Academic Fran9aise, and in the course of his career, 
 besides writing one comedy that may almost count as a 
 dramatic masterpiece, assigned to comic opera the shape 
 it has since maintained, will not under-estimate the 
 difficulty of carrying out in a second play the few gracious 
 hints of an affection between young Vanderk and Victorine 
 which Sedaine conveys. Vanderk fils has entrusted to 
 Victorine the montre a repetition which his sister has 
 given him, and has instructed her to surrender it in the 
 morning to him alone. At the time when she should 
 yield it up he is fighting a duel, which constitutes the 
 principal motive of the play. A report that he is dead 
 reaches the family and plunges it in despair, when 
 Vanderk fils again appears alive and well. Two asides 
 between Vanderk fils and Victorine and a word of rebuke 
 from Vanderk pere supply the basis of " Le Manage de 
 Victorine ". The conversation is as follows : 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 28 1 
 
 VICTORINE (a M. Vandcrk fits}. Qu'a moi, qu'a moi, oh cruel ! 
 M. VANDERK fits (a Victorine}. Que je suis aise de te revoir ! 
 M. VANDERK pi-re. Victorine, taisez-vous. 
 
 There is, it must be confessed, in these words sufficient 
 hint of a secret attachment between Victorine and the 
 young Vanderk on which to build a new play, and if the 
 last speech had been delivered by Antoine, the father of 
 Victorine, the lines of the story taken by George Sand 
 would have been laid down. " Le Mariage de Victorine" 
 shows the heroine, at her father's bidding, about to marry 
 Fulgence, a clerk in the " Maison Vanderke" (sic). Her 
 heart is, however, given to Alexis Vanderke. At the 
 moment when an act of self-sacrifice of which her father 
 knows and approves is about to be carried out, Victorine 
 sees again her lover, who has compromised her somewhat, 
 but who demands and ultimately obtains her hand. That 
 the closing scenes of this piece are supremely tender and 
 touching no one who knows the workmanship of George 
 Sand will doubt. The whole, however, lacks that strange 
 pastoral delicacy and charm w 7 hich Sedaine was able to 
 communicate to his work, assigning in so doing to every 
 scene some special and particular grace. There is, 
 indeed, in Sedaine something of Gcldsmith. At the 
 first production of " Le Mariage de Victorine " at the 
 Gymnase (26th Nov., 1851), it had a cast such as the 
 Comedie Franchise itself cannot rival, Mdlle. Rose Cheri 
 being Victorine; M. Dupuis, Vanderke per e ; M. Bressant, 
 Vanderke fits; M. Geoffrey, Antoine; and M. Lafontaine, 
 Fulgence. Nothing in the present cast was, indeed, 
 strong enough to suggest a comparison. Mdlle. Barretta 
 displayed much tenderness as Victorine, a part in which, 
 if we remember rightly, she made an early, if not a 
 first, appearance at the Theatre Fran9ais. In the other 
 characters MM. Maubant, Barre, Davrigny, and Baillet, 
 and Mesdames Provost-Ponsin and Martin were satisfac- 
 tory, and no more. 
 
282 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 " Les Fourberies de Scapin," which followed, was note- 
 worthy for the magnificent performance of Scapin by M. 
 Coquelin. A finer representation cannot well be con- 
 ceived, the waggery of a character in which so much that 
 is Greek is preserved being as effective as it could well 
 be rendered. M. Coquelin cadet as Sylvestre and Mdlle. 
 Samary as Zerbinette were also excellent. 
 
 The performance of " Les Femmes Savantes " may be 
 accepted as showing to highest advantage the powers of 
 the company in the comedy of Moliere. A cast which 
 included as the two pedants Trissotin and Vadius MM. 
 Got and Coquelin ; as the comic bourgeois, so loud-spoken 
 in the absence of his wife and so meek in her presence, 
 M. Thiron ; as the lover, M. Delaunay ; as the three 
 femmes savantes, Mesdames Madeleine Brohan, Favart, 
 and Jouassain ; as the heroine, Mdlle. Barretta ; and as 
 the soubrette, Mdlle. Samary, is quite unsurpassable, and 
 may, indeed, be held to be almost exhaustive of the comic 
 talent of the company. Not surprising is it, accordingly, 
 that the theatre was crowded to suffocation by those 
 anxious to witness this performance. The only case in 
 which we could fancy an improvement is in the Trissotin 
 of M. Got, which, as readers of Moliere know, is a 
 character designed for 1'Abbe Cotin. M. Got played 
 admirably and gave the part a distinct individuality. We 
 should like to see more of the smug self-satisfaction of 
 authorship, however. The famous sonnet should be 
 dropped gently from the lips, as if every word conveyed 
 a species of aroma to the brain of the reader. Still the 
 entire performance of this comedy may be pronounced 
 supreme. A just conception of the power of the company 
 might more easily be obtained from it than from any 
 other representation that has been given. If any vindi- 
 cation of the Comedie Franchise is necessary, or if any 
 justification of English raptures concerning it is required, 
 this performance might supply it. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Gaiety : Representations of the Comedie Fran$aise, "Philiberte," 
 " L'Etourdi," " Gringoire," " Davenant," etc. Hay- 
 market: "Romeo and Juliet" "As You Like It". 
 Lyceum : " Zillah," drama in five acts, by Palgrave 
 Simpson and Claude Templar. Criterion : " Betsy," 
 comedy in three acts, by F. C. Burnand. Imperial 
 Theatre : " The Beaux' Stratagem ". Court : Revival of 
 "Fernande". Lyceum: "Daisy's Escape," comedietta 
 by A . W. Pinero. Prince of Waless : " Duty," a comedy 
 in four acts, by James Albery. Lyceum: Revival of 
 "The Iron Chest". St. James's: " Monsieur le Due," 
 a play in one act, by Vol. Prinsep. Lyceum : " The 
 Merchant of Venice ". 
 
 THE idea of reviving the " Philiberte " of M. Emile July 19, 1879. 
 Augier seems to have been as sudden and unexpected as 
 it was curious. Clever as is the versification of this 
 comedy, and bright and animated as is its dialogue, its 
 action is nugatory, and its principal character inconceiv- 
 able outside the domain of fairyland, wherein it has already 
 been turned to profitable account. Philiberte is, indeed, 
 Cinderella. In spite of all evidence to the contrary, she 
 believes herself plain and stupid, and she refuses with insult 
 the advances of a young and ardent lover, because she con- 
 ceives it impossible his desires should extend beyond her 
 fortune to herself. From her errors she is at last won by 
 a device altogether worthy of the period about 1775 in 
 which the action passes. A young nobleman, who, as she 
 
 (283) ' 
 
284 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 subsequently states, is no more than her equal in rank, 
 proposes calmly to make her his mistress. This proof 
 that she is able to inspire passion so gratifies her she for- 
 gets for a while to snub the cavalier young gentleman, and 
 runs off to make up matters with her early lover, who, 
 though a little intractable, is bound in the end to yield 
 to her very openly expressed preference. It is singular 
 how good a play, from the literary standpoint, this fable, 
 so weak and preposterous, supplies. The heroine, the 
 Chevalier de Talmay, and his uncle, the Due de Chama- 
 raule, indulge, however, in thoroughly delightful badinage, 
 and the charm of the dialogue atones for the feebleness of 
 the plot and the triviality of the incidents. Two or three 
 things concerning this play appear worthy of mention. 
 First produced at the Gymnase on the igth of March, 
 1853, it elicited such unfavourable criticisms from a por- 
 tion of the press that M. Augier, "pour encourager les 
 autres," judged it expedient to challenge one of his critics. 
 His choice fell upon M. Monselet. The duel which ensued 
 was without results, but the sting of the criticism was 
 of service to the dramatist, whose next work, " Le Gendre 
 de M. Poirier" (written in conjunction with M. Jules 
 Sandeau), was a masterpiece. Four years later " Phili- 
 berte " was seized by the Comedie Fran9aise, by whom it 
 was produced on the ist of August, 1857. How poor is 
 the representation now supplied may be seen by contrast- 
 ing the cast assigned the play on three separate occasions 
 on which it has been produced or revived. The role of the 
 heroine, it may be stated, was originally intended for 
 Rachel : 
 
 Gymnase. -Franca is. Gaiety. 
 
 Due de Chamaraule Dupuis Samson Thiron 
 
 Chev. de Talmay Bressant Bressant Boucher 
 
 Comte d'Ollivon Landrol Leroux Prudhon 
 
 Raymond Lafontaine Maillart Baillet 
 
 Mme. de Grandchamps.. Melanie Lambquin Jouassain 
 
 Julie Figeac Figeac Barretta 
 
 Philiberte Rose-Cheri Judith Broisat 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 285 
 
 On the latest occasion Madame Jouassain and M. Thiron 
 showed themselves admirable actors. The part of the 
 Chevalier was quite out of the reach of M. Boucher, and 
 should have been played by M. Delaunay, while Mdlle. 
 Broisat, though gracious and tender as she always is, 
 was also unable to make anything of the character of 
 Philiberte. 
 
 In " L'Etourdi " M.Delaunay was Lelie; M. Coquelm, 
 Mascarille; M. Barre, Anselm ; M. Coquelin cadet, Tru- 
 faldin; M. Martel, Pandolphe ; Madame Lloyd, Hippolyte ; 
 and Mdlle. Bianca, Celie. The interpretation was ade- 
 quate, M. Coquelin's performance being especially ad- 
 mirable. 
 
 The programme at the closing representation consisted 
 of "Gringoire" and " L'Etincelle," with the fifth act of 
 " Hernani," a recitation of " La Benediction " of M. 
 Coppee by M. Febvre, and a first representation of a new 
 comedy by M. Jean Aicard, entitled " Davenant ". The 
 assumed relationship between Shakspeare and Davenant,, 
 begotten of Anthony a Wood's assertion that Shakspeare 
 was in the habit, when passing through Oxford, of resting 
 at the Crown Tavern, kept by the elder Davenant, supplies 
 the fable of a piece originally intended for Mdlle. Sarah 
 Bernhardt, and called " Shakspeare et Fils ". William 
 Davenant serves in the same house in Oxford which Shak- 
 speare previously visited, and is from some prompting of 
 affinity a perpetual student and lover of the works of his father. 
 Some disparaging remarks concerning Shakspeare which 
 drop from the lips of Lord Pembroke, who, with other 
 noblemen, is drinking at the Crown, provoke an indignant 
 rejoinder from the lad. Encouraged by the aristocratic 
 guests, William Davenant commences an eloquent de- 
 fence of Shakspeare, and quotes approved passages from 
 his plays, with the effect of convincing Lord Pembroke of 
 "rash judgment," and of winning for the reciter the pro- 
 tection of Lord Southampton, the son of the well-known 
 
286 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 friend of Shakspeare. This is as much of the plot of 
 an ingenious piece, which is, of course, characteristically 
 French in conception and execution, as needs to be told. 
 Davenant the elder is, it may be stated, aware of the 
 relationship between the youth he has nourished as his 
 own and Shakspeare, his wife having on her deathbed con- 
 fessed the truth. After testing the loyalty of the youth, 
 he admits in a lachrymose fashion, worthy of the lugu- 
 brious innkeeper whom A Wood describes, that it is the voice 
 of blood which speaks in the desire of the lad for the stage, 
 and sends him with Lord Southampton to London, to win 
 the notable advantages which befell him a reputation 
 wholly beyond his merits, the friendship of Suckling, the 
 protection of the Duke of Newcastle and that of Milton, a 
 knighthood gained on the field of battle, the laureateship, 
 and one or two other qualifications and disqualifications, 
 which rendered him for ever afterwards the butt of such 
 wags as Suckling, Rochester, and Sir John Mennis. M. 
 Got plays superbly as the innkeeper, and Mdlle. Dudlay, 
 as William Davenant, speaks with admirable elocution and 
 dramatic power the passages from Shakspeare put into 
 the mouth of the hero. MM. Prudhon, Boucher, Truffier, 
 etc., look very gallant as the Court rufflers who invade 
 the Oxford inn. It is, however, distinctly wrong on the 
 part of one or two of these actors to present noblemen at 
 their meals eating with a comic diligence copied from the 
 starving hero of " Gririgoire ". 
 
 The reception of the Comedie Frangaise on the closing 
 night of the performances had warmth which shows how 
 genuine admiration has been inspired by its perform- 
 ances. There was, indeed, about the demonstration a 
 ring of sincerity which, on the part of audiences such as 
 assembled at the Gaiety, might well inspire pride and 
 gratitude in its objects. It is not a propos of the Comedie 
 Frangaise, but rather as a reflection upon humanity in 
 general and actors in particular, we add that the diet upon 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 287 
 
 which gratitude soonest starves is benefits, and that vanity 
 is an absolute antidote against pride. 
 
 A COMPARISON between the performances of Moliere July 26, 1879. 
 by the Comedie Franchise and those of Shakspeare by any 
 existing English company is not likely to prove gratifying 
 to national vanity. Out of such resources as our stage at 
 present possesses a management anxious to do its best for 
 the public may select a company capable of giving, with 
 a respectable amount of ensemble, not only pieces of the 
 modern repertoire, but works which require for their ade- 
 quate interpretation genuine delicacy and cultivated taste. 
 Actors are naturally quick to learn, and the influence of 
 capable stage management, such as has obtained at houses 
 like the Prince of Wales's or the Court, is immediately 
 apparent. To teach a company, however, to speak blank 
 verse is a vastly different matter, seeing that there are 
 no teachers and no material on which to work. Each 
 successive representation witnesses, therefore, a further 
 declension, and the very meaning of a blank verse play 
 seems, so far as the majority of actors is concerned, to be 
 lost. In the revivals at the Haymarket accordingly the 
 interest is simply monopolised by the performance of Miss 
 Neilson. For the rest, we find an actress capable of 
 interpolating in the part of the Nurse a phrase like " You 
 are not going to leave your poor old nurse behind you ? " 
 while the affectations of manner or the mincing ways with 
 which certain characters are presented rouse that most 
 tolerant of things, an average British audience, to open 
 derision. Miss Neilson's Juliet has, however, its old 
 charm, and is still, in the poetry and beauty of the early 
 scenes and the intensity and passion of the later, a per- 
 formance which may be put beside the highest accom- 
 plishment of the Comedie Fran9aise. In presenting the 
 delicate and fragrant aspect of Juliet's character, that 
 
288 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 combination of girlish tenderness and overmastering pas- 
 sion which constitutes its chief charm, Miss Neilson has 
 scarcely a rival, while in showing the blank desolation 
 and appalling terror of the later scenes she is quite un- 
 equalled. Over the whole, moreover, she drops the veil 
 of doom. From the first the shadow of fate is on the 
 young front, and presage of the grim end of her sad 
 nuptials darkens their commencement, the laugh is 
 arrested on the lip, and the hope which rises into the air 
 droops and folds its wings before its first flight is accom- 
 plished. How essential a part of the character of Juliet 
 this is, is seen at once by those who mark her own utter- 
 ances and those of others concerning her, who see how on 
 the first aspect of Romeo, and the growth of what she 
 calls the " prodigious birth of love," the thought is forced 
 home that her grave is like to be her wedding bed ; how 
 when the first breathings of love are poured into her ear 
 she avows, with sad prevision : 
 
 I have no joy of this contract to-night, 
 It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden, 
 Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be 
 Ere one can say it lightens ; 
 
 how at the close of nuptial caresses she sees her husband 
 
 As one dead in the bottom of a tomb ; 
 
 and how her mother anticipates by a few hours only 
 the actual event when, with terrible outspokenness, she 
 expresses her wish 
 
 The fool were married to her grave. 
 
 So fine a presentation as Miss Neilson supplies, how- 
 ever, needs such support on the part of other actors as it 
 does not receive, since the Friar of Mr. Howe and the 
 Mercutio of Mr. Harcourt, the latter a clever and very 
 animated performance, alone call for notice. It may be 
 mentioned, a propos to revivals of " Romeo and Juliet," 
 that when a change, necessary enough, is made in the 
 text, and the age of the heroine is altered from " not 
 

 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 289 
 
 fourteen " to " not eighteen " years, other passages should 
 be altered to correspond. After saying of Juliet that 
 
 Come Lammas eve at night shall she be fourteen, 
 
 the Nurse proceeds to add 
 
 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years, 
 And she was weaned, 
 
 which of course, when eighteen is put in the place of 
 fourteen, gives an age of seven as that of weaning. The 
 substitution of " some fifteen years " for " eleven years " 
 is to be recommended. 
 
 In " As You Like It," Miss Neilson is coquettish, 
 bright, and charming. In no other hands has the per- 
 formance of this character proved equally attractive or 
 amusing. Some sacrifice of poetry is made, however, in 
 obtaining this result, and a moderating of the animal 
 spirits is to be recommended as a means of preserving the 
 aroma. In adding to the business of Rosalind Miss Neilson 
 has not improved it. The support she received was most 
 inadequate. Quite pitiable was it to hear the music of 
 Shakspeare marred by the omission or interpolation of 
 syllables. Two actors alone, Mr. Howe, excellent as 
 Adam, and Mr. Grisdale, as the banished Duke, were free 
 from this defect. So deliberate and pedantic is, however, 
 Mr. Grisdale's style, that the public owes him less thanks 
 than otherwise it would for his correctness. 
 
 AMONG causes of the decline of romantic drama may Aug. 9, 1879. 
 be counted the fact that audiences are growing too 
 sophisticated to believe in the old agencies to which its 
 effects, mysterious or "sensational," are due. Genius no 
 less powerful and exceptional than that of M. Victor 
 Hugo is necessary to reconcile the public to the machinery 
 of secret doors, mysterious passages, and the like, and 
 the most successful plays the author of " Hernani " even 
 has written are those in which such resources are least 
 
2QO DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 frequently employed. The public has still some regard 
 for a " sensation leap," or anything in which real or 
 assumed activity is shown. It is now, however, sus- 
 picious of effects which used at one time to move its 
 admiration, and if it can trace a concealed agency is 
 likely to treat it with derision. Miss Genevieve Ward 
 has lost sight of this truth, and has commenced her short 
 season at the Lyceum Theatre with a piece the main 
 interest of which rests on devices such as move a modern 
 audience to irreverent hilarity. 
 
 That it rests upon tricks with which the playgoer is 
 familiar is not the only or the chief fault in "Zillah". 
 It is that nevertheless which contributes most to its 
 failure. The piece is structurally weak, is nebulous in 
 story and overcrowded with incident. It is, moreover, in 
 the main badly acted. Out of the conditions, then, which 
 surround its birth most are unfavourable, and success 
 could scarcely have been hoped. The best work in the 
 meantime which it contains is not of a kind to appeal to 
 a general public. An interesting glimpse is afforded into 
 the state of Toulouse at the time when the Counts of 
 Toulouse, though nominally vassals of France, were in 
 fact more powerful than their suzerains, and when the 
 streets of the capital of Languedoc saw the fiercest 
 portion of that carnage which, commencing with Saracen 
 invasions, lasted almost to the present century, and which, 
 indeed, renders the city to this moment the saddest and 
 most haunted of all abodes of civilisation. One may, 
 with little exercise of imagination, fix the action in the 
 reign (for such it practically was) of Raymond VI. or VII. 
 The Papal emissaries are there to urge the Count to fresh 
 persecutions ; the Papal army, assumably under Simon 
 de Montfort, is on the banks of the Garonne ; and 
 Raymond himself, timid, vacillating, and aghast, sees 
 proofs of treason in every action of those around him. 
 An English audience is not likely to attach much 
 

 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 29 1 
 
 importance to points of this kind, and the heroic action 
 is meanwhile complicated by the private feuds of gipsies, 
 the escapades of travelling tinkers, and the comic per- 
 plexities of money-hunting Jews. These things interested 
 but slightly, and as the main intrigue, the resemblance 
 between two sisters, did not interest at all, the result was 
 failure. It may, indeed, be doubted whether any play 
 that turns upon a child stolen by gipsies will again be 
 tolerated by the public. Such individuality as was pos- 
 sessed by the characters was for the most part lost in 
 the representation. Raymond of Toulouse was obviously 
 intended to stand forth a distinct and recognisable, if not 
 exactly an historical, figure. Mr. Mead, however, had 
 apparently formed no other conception of him than that 
 of an old gentleman who, for want of anything better, 
 takes refuge in noise, and shouts forth injunctions more 
 noteworthy for violence than coherency. Mr. Calhaem 
 as a Jew showed comic terror in a manner that might 
 have been effective had he not given the man a physiog- 
 nomy which was simply ridiculous. Mr. M'Intyre had 
 apparently forgotten all the teaching of burlesque, and 
 presented a gipsy in a style so melodramatic it moved 
 the audience to absolute laughter. One or two characters 
 escape censure. Miss Ward played the two heroines, 
 one a supposed gipsy, the other her sister, a daughter of 
 the Count of Toulouse ; and besides presenting distinctly 
 the identity of each not a difficult task showed in the 
 closing scenes some real power. Mr. Forbes-Robertson, 
 who makes long strides forward in his profession, was 
 excellent as a travelling tinker whose conversation is 
 interlarded with proverbs, some of them sufficiently 
 amusing. Mr. Barnes and Mr. Herbert were respectable, 
 the latter as the hero of the piece, the former as the arch 
 villain ; and Miss Roland Phillips, a daughter of the late 
 Watts Phillips, lightened up the whole by some natural 
 and gracious acting as a youth. One unpleasant feature 
 
2Q2 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 in the play is that it presents a woman getting drunk. 
 Now, if any purpose were answered by this, it might, 
 perhaps, be defended. As the piece is now constructed, 
 however, the device is wholly without value. Half- 
 asleep the heroine hears the villain tell a story about 
 the abduction of a daughter of the Comte de Toulouse. 
 She makes neither head nor tail of this, and nothing 
 whatever comes of it. 
 
 MR. BURNAND'S " Betsy," a version of the " Bebe " of 
 MM. Hennequin and de Najac, is an instance of successful 
 adaptation. All that is unsuited to English tastes is 
 expunged without the sacrifice of the mirth-producing 
 power of the original such a process ordinarily involves. 
 Among the three-act farces which have grown during 
 recent years into public favour "Betsy" is entitled to a 
 high place. Its action is ingenious and comic, its charac- 
 ters are clearly defined, and its dialogue is mirthful. The 
 interpretation also is satisfactory, Messrs. W. J. Hill, 
 Lytton Sothern, Standing, Giddens, and Maltby, Mrs. 
 Stephens, and Miss Lottie Venne playing with admirable 
 spirit and equal ensemble. It is long since a piece of this 
 class has had equally strong claims upon the public or 
 obtained a more genuine and uncontested triumph. 
 
 Sept. 27, 1879. VERY little less than a quarter of a century can have 
 elapsed since the " Beaux' Stratagem " of Farquhar was 
 last presented in London, the scene of the latest perform- 
 ance being that of the first production, the Haymarket. 
 During that period the taste for our elder comedy and the 
 capacity to act it have both declined, until the chance of 
 a piece of this description finding its way, in anything like 
 its integrity, to the stage seemed hopelessly remote. In 
 life, however, a place has always to be left for the unfore- 
 seen, and Farquhar's masterpiece has once more pushed 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 293 
 
 its way on to the boards. What is most remarkable, 
 moreover, is that it is not revived as a makeshift, but is 
 produced with a luxury and costliness of mise en scene that 
 prove a long run to be expected. In pronouncing a ver- 
 dict upon a performance of this kind there is every temp- 
 tation to leniency. That we have lost the grand style of 
 acting is conceded. The power adequately to present the 
 wits and beaux of the comedy of the Restoration has by 
 universal consent disappeared for a couple of generations. 
 In the management of a dress rapier and "the nice con- 
 duct of a clouded cane " our actors have lost all chance of 
 practice, and the traditions of consecutive centuries seem 
 likely to perish for want of opportunity for their trans- 
 mission. The question then arises, Are we to leave the 
 comedy of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to 
 rank only as literature, or are we still to give it such 
 interpretation as can be hoped under the present condi- 
 tions of the stage ? Of the alternatives the latter is pre- 
 ferable. So dependent is the drama for its full force and 
 value upon the illustration it receives from action, almost 
 any form of representation is better than none at 'all. As 
 it is, the period during which the " Beaux' Stratagem " 
 has been lost sight of as an acting play is so long that 
 much which it is desirable to preserve in tradition is 
 neglected, and stands a chance of being altogether for- 
 gotten. The performance that is given at the Imperial 
 has something more than the mere interest attaching to 
 a curious revival. It may be true that few of the male 
 characters are thoroughly realised. Nevertheless there is 
 much in separate impersonations that can be seen with 
 pleasure, and the performance all round is creditable. 
 Besides dressing so as to be quite out of the general 
 picture, Mr. Farren, who played Archer, was too heavy in 
 style. Mr. Ryder's Sullen was, on the other hand, far too 
 light, and Mr. Edgar's Aimwell, though painstaking and, 
 in a sense, satisfactory, was wanting in distinction. Mr. 
 
294 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Lionel Brough, however, as Scrub, realised thoroughly the 
 old style of comic acting ; and two young actors, Mr. 
 Kyrle Bellew and Mr. Bannister, the latter a debutant, 
 contrived to give much distinctness of outline to the parts, 
 Gibbet and Foigard, they respectively played. Miss Litton 
 has caught much of the spirit of old comedy, and in her 
 delightfully quaint and picturesque dress looked the very 
 image of a lady of fashion of a time a little subsequent 
 to the action of the play. Miss Carlotta Addison realised 
 thoroughly the part of Cherry, the " Maid of the Inn," 
 and Mrs. Stirling as Lady Bountiful and Miss Meyrick as 
 Dorinda were also satisfactory. The entire interpretation 
 may be seen with satisfaction by those who are prepared 
 to make allowance for altered conditions, and do not apply 
 too vigorously to modern performances the standard of 
 acting of \vhich they know only by hearsay. Meanwhile 
 the mounting of the " Beaux' Stratagem," in spite of one 
 or two pardonable anachronisms, is better than the play 
 has previously received. Much of the wit and the slyness 
 disappear with the removal of the indecency, but enough 
 of both remains to render the performance attractive from 
 a literary standpoint. It must be remembered, however, 
 by those who know Farquhar only in the closet and 
 these, of course, include the vast majority of playgoers 
 that the play they have is an acting version, modified at 
 the caprice of successive actors, and is not the " Beaux' 
 Stratagem " they find in the collected works of Farquhar. 
 Much is omitted, as inconsistent with the taste of to-day, 
 but a little, too, is added which would probably have been 
 not less inconsistent with the taste of yesterday. 
 
 AFTER narrating, in " Jacques le Fataliste," the cruel 
 revenge of Madame de la Pommeraye upon her false 
 lover, the Marquis des Arcis, whom she induces to marry 
 a prostitute, believing her a woman of unblemished virtue, 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 295 
 
 Diderot puts into the mouth of one of the characters some 
 reflections upon the event. " Notre hotesse," says le 
 maitre, addressing the gossip by whom the story has been 
 told, " vous narrez assez bien ; mais vous n'etes pas encore 
 profonde dans Part dramatique. Si vous vouliez que cette 
 jeune fille interessat, il fallait lui donner de la franchise et 
 nous la montrer victime innocente et forcee de sa mere et 
 de la Pommeraye ; il fallait que les traitements les plus 
 cruels 1'entrainassent, malgre qu'elle en eut, a concourir 
 a une suite de forfaits continus pendant une annee ; il 
 fallait preparer ainsi le raccommodement de cette femme 
 avec son mari. Quand on introduit un personage sur la 
 scene, il faut que son role soit un ; or, je vous demanderai, 
 notre charmante hotesse, si la fille qui complotte avec 
 deux scelerates est bien la femme suppliante que nous 
 avons vue aux pieds de son mari ? Vous avez peche 
 contre les regies d'Aristote, d'Horace, de Vida, et de Le 
 Bossu." 
 
 Justification is accordingly afforded Mr. Sutherland 
 Edwards for idealising and exalting the character of the 
 heroine of the story, which he took from M. Sardou, who 
 took it from Ancelot, who took it from Diderot. The 
 result is not, however, favourable to the views of the 
 maitre, since the proposed change has been made by 
 Mr. Edwards, and the character of the heroine remains 
 unsympathetic. A great loss to the interest of the story is, 
 moreover, involved in transferring the action into modern 
 times. A French marquis of the times of the Regency, 
 in spite of the ridicule Moliere had cast upon his prede- 
 cessors, was somebody, and a mesalliance was a matter of 
 importance. A French marquis of to-day may marry a 
 kitchen-maid without causing a ripple on the waters of 
 Parisian life. " Fernande " accordingly, in the English 
 version, does not take now a firmer hold upon the public 
 than it did nine years ago, when, six months after the 
 play of M. Sardou was given in Paris, it was presented by 
 
296 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Mrs. John Wood at the St. James's. Ingenuity has been 
 displayed in the treatment and the dialogue is not with- 
 out merit. The whole is, however, unsympathetic and 
 unsuited to English tastes. Its reception was accordingly 
 stormy. 
 
 The role of Clotilde the Madame de la Pommeraye of 
 Diderot first taken in England by Mrs. Hermann Vezin, 
 was given by Miss Heath, whose control of pathos and 
 tenderness is of little account to balance her artificial and 
 affected style. Miss Rosa Kenney played with tenderness 
 and feeling the role of Fernande, assumed at the St. 
 James's by Miss Fanny Brough, who made in it her d&but. 
 Mr. Wilson Barrett gave a popular impersonation of 
 Pomerol, and Miss Amy Roselle obtained an enthusiastic 
 reception as Georgette his wife. Mr. Coghlan, reappearing 
 after an absence in America, w r as natural and manly as 
 the Marquis des Arcis, and made the most of a poor part. 
 
 A SLIGHT and amusing comedietta by Mr. A. W. Pinero, 
 entitled " Daisy's Escape," has been produced at the 
 Lyceum. Its plot deals with the substitution of one lover 
 for another by a young lady who is eloping from a rigor- 
 ous guardian. In this trifle a thin vein of genuine comedy 
 is shown. The author, as the rejected lover, gives a fresh 
 and effective picture of selfishness and vulgarity. Miss 
 Alma Murray shows distinct appreciation of the character 
 she is called upon to play, and acts agreeably and well. 
 The chief portion of the past week's entertainment has 
 consisted of "The Bells," with Mr. Irving in his strangely 
 powerful impersonation of Mathias. Bayle Bernard's farce 
 of " The Boarding School " has also been given, with 
 Miss Florence Terry, Miss Pauncefort, and Mr. Barnes 
 in leading characters. 
 
 1879. IN " Les Bourgeois de Pont-Arcy " M. Sardou seems 
 to have aimed at giving a companion picture to his " Nos 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 297 
 
 Bons Villageois ". That he has been less successful in 
 dealing with middle-class pretension than with peasant 
 greed may perhaps be attributed to the fact that he has 
 followed less closely in the steps of Balzac. If, however, 
 the eccentrics of Pont-Arcy are less animated than those 
 of Bouzy-le-Tetu, the action to which the latter con- 
 tribute is neither less interesting nor less dramatic than 
 that for which the former are responsible. It may be 
 urged that the incidents of the " Bourgeois de Pont-Arcy" 
 are unnatural and strained. A like defect interferes, how- 
 ever, with the claim to consideration of nine-tenths of the 
 modern drama. A close application of the laws regarding 
 probability would in the end since human passions are, 
 after all, limited, and the combinations to which, in 
 connection even with circumstance, they can lead are not 
 inexhaustible put a stop to the greater portion of dramatic 
 production. It is conceded accordingly that a certain 
 measure of stupidity or carelessness shall be permitted in 
 human action ; that Othello shall not give Desdemona 
 opportunity to bethink her how she lost her handkerchief; 
 that Romeo shall not, before proceeding to the tomb of 
 the Capulets, call and ask for explanations of the Friar. 
 
 Another and a conspicuous weakness of the dramatic 
 work of M. Sardou, as of M. Scribe, is illustrated in the 
 fact that the whole story that of a son, to save his 
 mother pain, assuming the responsibility of a liaison of 
 his father, and through filial piety shipwrecking his own 
 happiness depends upon a thing that might at any 
 moment be set right. Just as a scrap of paper supplies 
 the basis of " Les Pattes de Mouche," a bag which, in 
 the ordinary course of things, the owner would have held 
 in a clutch almost convulsive, furnishes the groundwork 
 of " Les Bourgeois de Pont-Arcy". 
 
 Granting, however, M. Sardou what he claims, that 
 inadequate motive shall be accepted as adequate both as 
 regards incident and moral obligation, it is easy to be 
 
2QO DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 enthusiastic over the manner in which difficulties are 
 faced and conquered and the utmost dramatic value of 
 the materials is expressed. 
 
 Mr. Albery has been moderately successful in treating 
 the play. The full value of the stronger scenes, and a 
 measure of the charm belonging to the whole, are pre- 
 served, and the pleasant atmosphere M. Sardou has 
 assigned the piece is retained. Equivalents for some of 
 the comic characters are obtained, and much witty dia- 
 logue is supplied. On the other hand, the attempt to roll 
 into one two of the bourgeoises of Pont-Arcy is a failure, 
 and some of the dialogue is wholly unworthy. When Mr. 
 Albery talks of a clock through shame hiding its face 
 with its hands, he employs a joke so venerable nothing 
 short of absolute poverty would, one might think, have 
 induced a dramatist to take it ; when, again, he makes 
 his hero, in answer to a question from a lady as to the 
 name of a flower, reply it is a tussis convuhiva, he is not 
 more original, and he detracts terribly from the character 
 of the speaker, since a man thus impolite to a visitor in 
 his house forfeits his right to the character of a gentle- 
 man. 
 
 Of the four acts constituting the play the first is 
 explanatory and amusing ; the second is preposterous, 
 unnecessary, and wearisome ; and the third and fourth are 
 dramatic and moving. A complete sacrifice of vraisem- 
 blance is accomplished by the negotiations for the purchase 
 of a country newspaper, and the characters concerned in 
 it are outside the framework of the picture. Not until 
 the third act does the story commence to unfold itself. 
 From that point to the end the action is progressive and 
 stimulating. 
 
 An admirably competent interpretation is afforded. 
 Mr. David Fisher, jun., plays a part that is unnecessary; 
 Mrs. John Wood a second that is farcical ; and Miss 
 Augusta Wilton a third that is repulsive. All three act 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 299 
 
 satisfactorily, and Mrs. John Wood is so highly comic, it 
 is with regret we declare that dramatic fitness demands 
 she should disappear from the play or be reduced to a 
 nonentity. Mr. Conway, who made a startling revelation 
 of earnestness and passion, carried off the honours of the 
 representation with his performance of Sir Geoffrey 
 Deene, the Fabrice de Saint-Andre of the original. Miss 
 Marion Terry was a sympathetic and attractive heroine, 
 and Mrs. Vezin, as the mother in whose interest the son 
 accomplishes his sacrifice, showed her known power. A 
 small character part by Mr. Arthur Cecil was a fine piece 
 of acting. Mr. Forbes-Robertson and Miss Linda Dietz 
 also rendered valuable assistance. 
 
 MR. IRVING'S performance of Sir Edward Mortimer in 
 "The Iron Chest" is an instance of absolute realisation. 
 Never, probably, since the days when, according to 
 Colman's noted preface to the printed version, Kemble 
 came on to the boards, "habited from the wig to the 
 shoe-string with the most studied exactness," has the 
 play been seen to equal advantage, or the character 
 received such precise embodiment. As a picture of 
 despair and desolation, sombre and funereal, illumined 
 by bursts of passion which rend and convulse the frame, 
 and are yet as evanescent as they are powerful, the per- 
 formance is marvellous. The grimmer aspect of Mr. 
 Irving's powers has never been seen to equal advantage, 
 and if the performance is not so fine as the Louis XL 
 it is only because the comic element is wanting. Mr. 
 Irving's face is capable of being charged with any amount 
 of tragic expression, and it is not easy to conceive a 
 picture of remorse burning fiercely behind the closed 
 shutters of a resolute will more powerful than that he 
 presents in the scene in which he sets himself to work a 
 cruel and deliberate vengeance on the boy whose curiosity 
 has stirred his fears. As Mr. Irving's acting shows in 
 
300 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 this instance little trace of the mannerisms to which we 
 have been used, and as the arrangements of scenery have 
 been studied intelligently with a view to producing the 
 strongest effect, the performance has remarkable interest. 
 
 A question arises, Is this thing worth doing at all ? 
 Colman's " Iron Chest " is one of the worst plays of the 
 worst epoch in our dramatic annals. The great central 
 figure which Godwin in his "Caleb Williams" supplied 
 is there, and in this is found the attraction which has 
 commended the character to every tragedian except 
 Macready. It is sadly dwarfed, however, from the 
 original. For this Colman may not be greatly to blame, 
 since the elaborate psychology which is the chief feature 
 in the novel is not to be preserved in a play. Such 
 operatic surroundings as Colman supplied are con- 
 temptible to the last degree. The blank verse would do 
 discredit to Tate or Brady and the whole workmanship 
 is pitiful. Still the fact remains that the central figure is 
 strong. 
 
 Mr. Irving has altered the play in some respects, and 
 has carried the action from the period about 1635 m 
 which Colman placed it to the close of the last century. 
 Any liberties whatever are permissible in the case of a 
 pasticcio like this. The dialogue, it should, however, be 
 observed, is no longer suitable to the characters. There 
 is in much of the play a seventeenth century lacquer, 
 which is inconsistent with the time to which the action 
 is now transferred. References to "Canary" have no 
 appropriateness at that time, and a butler who swears by 
 our Lady, talks of dancing a galliard, and uses such 
 expressions as " a pestilence on't," " a perilous good aim," 
 and the like, is an anachronism. Supervision should, 
 indeed, have been bestowed upon the whole dialogue. 
 
 If, however, Mr. Irving wished to do the best with a 
 character quite within his reach, he should have dis- 
 missed altogether Colman's absurd setting, and have 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 30 1 
 
 employed some living dramatist to extract from " Caleb 
 Williams" another and an altogether different play. 
 The character of Sir Edward Mortimer is finely con- 
 ceived. Where it comes short of greatness is only in 
 the fact that the psychological analysis is not ample, and 
 that the workings of mind which lead to the result are 
 not shown with sufficient clearness. There is strange 
 power in the idea of this great and generous man, whom 
 dread forces into tyranny ; and whatever is subtlest and 
 most remote in the mental workings that operate this 
 transformation, Mr. Irving is qualified to express. Some 
 of the minor characters are well played. 
 
 ONE novelty was produced on the opening night of the Oct. n, 1879. 
 St. James's. " Monsieur le Due " belongs to a class with 
 which the French stage is familiar, but which as yet has 
 scarcely won its way into favour this side of the Channel. 
 In the midst of his customary environings the Due de 
 Richelieu receives a visit from a young lady, who comes 
 bringing him a recommendation written on her deathbed 
 by her mother. After his wont as he is seen in fiction 
 Richelieu bets lightly on the immediate dishonour of his 
 visitor. The bet is lost. In the subject of his gallantry 
 he discovers his own daughter, the legitimate offspring of 
 a marriage he had contracted in boyhood. Immediately 
 after its accomplishment he had been imprisoned by his 
 father's influence, and his wife, who was no fit mate for 
 his fortunes, had been spirited away. Here is a thoroughly 
 French intrigue, full of suggestion of " Mademoiselle de 
 Belle Isle " and other plays. The treatment is, however, 
 robust rather than delicate, and the whole comes short of 
 that distinction which is to a work of this class what 
 bouquet is to a wine of Medoc, or, to use a still more 
 gastronomic illustration, what the flavour of truffles is 
 to a pate. 
 
302 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 Whether the fault is in the piece or the acting is not 
 easy to tell. The actors look well in an interior exactly 
 recalling those provided at the Theatre Fran9ais for 
 similar pieces, and wear their costumes with more ease 
 than is ordinarily displayed under similar conditions. Mr. 
 Hare is, indeed, a perfect picture of the Duke. The 
 whole, however, has not the cachet indispensable to this 
 class of work. Quite otherwise is it with the second 
 piece "The Queen's Shilling". In this everything is 
 good. Mr. Hare's Colonel Daunt is a thoroughly fine per- 
 formance, Mrs. Kendal is delightfully saucy as the heroine, 
 and Mr. Kendal and the other officers of the regiment of 
 lancers are as natural as they can be. No very high order 
 of talent is required to give an adequate representation of 
 this version of " Le Fils de Famille ". Such demands as 
 it makes are, however, met, and the picture that is supplied 
 of modern life has all conceivable vraisemblance. A large 
 audience, including a good many individuals known in 
 literature and art, accorded a warm welcome to the 
 opening performance. 
 
 Nov. 8, 1879. THE performance of " The Merchant of Venice " at 
 the Lyceum is remarkable in many respects. Considered 
 as interpretation it is superior to anything of its class 
 that has been seen on the English stage by the present 
 generation, while as a sample of the manner in which 
 Shakspeare is hereafter to be mounted it is of highest 
 interest. In thus speaking we do not confine our praise 
 to what may be called the upholstery portion of the 
 accessories. An immense stride has been made in the 
 direction of a thoroughly satisfactory presentation of the 
 early drama, and the foundation is established of a 
 system of performances which will restore Shakspeare 
 to fashion as an acting dramatist, and will render 
 attractive to the student, whatever his culture, that 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 303 
 
 observation of the acted drama of Shakspeare which is 
 indispensable to a full estimate of his powers. A back- 
 ground which is at once striking, natural, and unob- 
 trusive is supplied, and from this the action receives 
 added intelligibility. Constant attention has been paid 
 to the trial scene, and one actor of eminence after 
 another has contributed something to the fidelity or the 
 dramatic value of the representation. Mr. Irving has, 
 however, found something new and striking to add to 
 this scene, and the presence, in the crowd of spectators 
 of the trial, of a knot of eager and interested Jews, among 
 whom the sentence condemning Shylock to deny his 
 religion falls like a thunderbolt, and the explosion of 
 popular wrath against this body which the result of the 
 trial produces, are instances of ingenious and intelligent 
 explanation and comment in the shape of action. 
 
 There are those doubtless who will regard such addi- 
 tions as futile or worse. Their effect upon the vivacity 
 of the interpretation and upon the interest of the public 
 is, however, great, and there is nothing whatever in the 
 play itself to render such things impertinent. It has been 
 the fashion of late to close the performances of " The 
 Merchant of Venice " at the end of the trial scene, and 
 to bring down the curtain upon the defeat and despair 
 of the Jew. A natural result of this course has been to 
 foster the delusion that the play is a tragedy. It is in 
 truth a romantic drama ; it might even be called a tragi- 
 comedy set in a fantastic framework which is indispen- 
 sable to the plot. That a very serious interest is inspired 
 in Shylock is true. It is, however, highly improbable 
 that an audience of Shakspeare's time, when prejudice 
 against Jews still existed, felt the tragedy of the story 
 as it has since been felt. In the very dislike to the 
 Hebrews which animated those whose fathers or grand- 
 fathers might have seen them burned at the stake 
 was found the cause why the notion of tragedy never 
 
304 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 suggested itself to early audiences. That Shylock to the 
 time of Macklin was presented as a comic character is 
 known, and the description by Macklin of the difficulties 
 he encountered in trying to substitute the Jew of 
 Shakspeare for that of Granville, Lord Lansdowne, is 
 one of the most familiar of theatrical anecdotes. When 
 the last act is put on the stage, the extreme sadness of 
 the central interest ceases to be felt. Lord Lansdowne 
 in his last act presents Lorenzo and Jessica rejoicing over 
 Shylock's enforced apostasy. Shakspeare, with infinitely 
 higher taste, makes no mention of the Jew except when 
 Nerissa instructs Lorenzo and Jessica that they are 
 chosen his heirs. To an audience, indeed, of the time 
 of Shakspeare the penalty undergone by Shylock can 
 scarcely have presented itself as very serious. Taking, 
 then, "The Merchant of Venice" to be what it is, a 
 play founded on one of the stories of the " Pecorone " of 
 Ser Giovanni Fiorentino, with the substitution of the 
 story of the three caskets, which comes from the " Gesta 
 Romanorum," for that of a species of Circe who in the 
 Italian story sends her lovers to sleep by means of a 
 potion and by a not too modest expedient robs them of 
 their treasures, it must be classed with the romantic 
 comedies. As such it lends itself readily to the kind of 
 additions now made, and the revels in the Venetian 
 streets and the pictures of a gay and frolic life are 
 altogether in keeping. It may be incidentally mentioned, 
 as it is a fact on which little if any stress has been laid, 
 that Shakspeare's indebtedness to the Italian novel does 
 not end with the character of Shylock and the attempted 
 exaction of the forfeit. The scene of the framework or 
 underplot, which in the story is more closely welded into 
 the main action than in the play, is Belmonte, and the 
 court of the lady, who is a widow, is not unlike that of 
 Portia. Her waiting-woman, moreover, is wedded by 
 Giannetto, the hero, to his friend Ansaldo, who may 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 305 
 
 answer to Gratiano. Of none of these things is there 
 any trace in the story from the " Gesta Romanorum," 
 which is supposed to have supplied the idea of the 
 caskets. 
 
 Mr. Irving's presentation of Shylock is in his later and 
 happier vein. It is too restless in the scene with Tubal, 
 the violent shaking of the head and one or two similar 
 things suggesting snappishness rather than passion. In 
 some respects, however, it has singular merits. The final 
 exit of the Jew is one of the most impressive things we 
 can recall ; the comedy passages are introduced with 
 full effect, and much melancholy dignity is assigned 
 Shylock. The entire performance is thoughtful and 
 scholarly, and likely to raise Mr. Irving's reputation. 
 Whether in one belonging to a persecuted race there 
 should be so open valiancy of hate, or whether more 
 servility is to be expected, is a matter on which keen 
 controversy may be waged. The beauty of Miss Terry's 
 Portia is incontestable. An instance of perfect exposition 
 is presented, and the business introduced is always subtle, 
 poetical, and significant. Got up in exact imitation of 
 those stately Venetian dames who still gaze down from 
 the pictures of Paolo Veronese, Miss Terry looks in every 
 respect the Lady of Belmont of the story or the play. 
 Her delivery is just and pure, and her performance is a 
 remarkable instance of interpretation. In other respects 
 the representation is noteworthy for general excellency 
 of bearing and for ensemble rather than for the merit 
 of single performances. Mr. Johnson's Launcelot Gobbo 
 deserves, however, praise for its moderation, and the 
 Jessica of Miss Alma Murray, the Bassanio of Mr. Barnes, 
 the gallants (Salanio, Salarino, Gratiano, and Lorenzo) of 
 Messrs. Elwood, Pinero, Cooper, and Norman Forbes 
 form portions of a representation that may be pronounced 
 satisfactory. There were shortcomings in the delivery 
 of the verse, and there were other respects in which 
 
 20 
 
306 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 improvement might be effected. So considerable an 
 advance is, however, this representation upon anything 
 previously seen, censure seems churlish. The reception 
 of the performance was enthusiastic. 
 
 IN striking contrast with the performance of " The 
 Merchant of Venice" at the Lyceum is that of "King 
 Henry V." with which Drury Lane reopened. In this 
 general effect is aimed at and obtained, and little pains 
 are taken with individual characters. Mr. Rignold, who 
 plays the king, has a fine presence, a manly bearing, 
 and a good delivery. His subordinates are, however, 
 for the most part unused to niceties of rhythm, and a 
 knowledge of the fact that the play was in blank verse, 
 unless it rested on previous information, was scarcely to 
 be obtained by observation. There was, however, plenty 
 of bustle and action, and the whole was a pageant of 
 a kind which at Drury Lane has long been accepted as 
 a Shakspearian performance. Once more the assumption 
 was renewed, and the spectacle, albeit one act passed in 
 dumb show, was received with favour. 
 
 Dec. 27, 1879. WHEN the essentially undramatic character of the story 
 of Boccaccio on which Mr. Tennyson has founded his play 
 of " The Falcon " is taken into account, there is cause for 
 surprise at the fact that it has been several times adapted 
 for the stage. In England, so far as can be ascertained 
 from existing records, no version earlier than that of the 
 Laureate has found its way to the boards. In France, 
 however, in which country the best-known stories of the 
 " Decamerone" are those popularised by La Fontaine, no 
 fewer than four versions were given in the course of the 
 last century. The earliest in date was a one-act piece, 
 entitled " Le Faucon," produced in 1719 at the Theatre 
 Fran9ais. The authorship of this belongs to Marie-Anne 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. . 307 
 
 Barbier, a poetess of Orleans, a portion of whose dramatic 
 fame, including that resting on the authorship of this 
 piece, has been assigned to 1'Abbe Pellegrin. Six years 
 later " Le Faucon ; ou, les Oyes de Bocace," by Louis 
 Fran9ois Delisle de la Drevetiere, was given at the 
 Italiens. This is extended into three acts, an old fabliau 
 concerning a youth who mistook women for geese being 
 blended with the novel of Boccaccio and the customary 
 characters of Italian comedy in Paris, Arlequin, Pierrot, 
 and Colombine being introduced. Sedaine also gave to 
 the Italiens a new version in one act of the story of the 
 Falcon, to which Monsigny supplied the music. This is 
 an agreeable piece, with one or two especially dainty lyrics 
 and ariettes in Sedaine' s best manner. The hero of " Le 
 Faucon " of Sedaine was played by Clairval. Lastly, just 
 before his imprisonment on account of the political allu- 
 sions in his comedy " La Chaste Suzanne," Radet gave 
 to the Vaudeville a one-act piece, also entitled " Le 
 Faucon ". A play entitled " Le Faucon " is assigned in 
 the Catalogue des Comedies of the Nouveau Theatre 
 Italien to Fuselier or Fuzelier, the well-known collaborator 
 of Lesage in the pieces intended for the Theatres de la 
 Foire. This piece is, however, obviously the same we 
 have ascribed to the Demoiselle Barbier. 
 
 No special interest or importance attaches to the in- 
 formation, since Mr. Tennyson has made no use of the 
 works of his predecessors, and is assumably unfamiliar 
 with them. Still the works out of which such informa- 
 tion can be dug are, in England, at least, difficult of access, 
 and, as there is always some measure of curiosity concern- 
 ing the use to which well-known fables have here been 
 put, these facts, which can be found in no single autho- 
 rity, may be acceptable. The names and the more marked 
 attributes assigned by Boccaccio to the two principal 
 characters, Federigo degli Alberighi and Monna Giovanna, 
 are preserved ; the peasant's wife, who in the novel acts 
 
308 DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 
 
 as companion to the lady, is replaced by an old woman, 
 the foster-mother of the hero, and a species of squire and 
 domestic is supplied in the person of her son. There is 
 little departure from the Italian story. Federigo pays his 
 court to his mistress, and shows her a chaplet she has 
 worn and discarded, which has since been his companion 
 in danger and almost in death. He sings to her a love- 
 song of his own composition, and accompanies himself 
 upon the " gittern," and in many ways lays siege to her 
 heart. The sacrifice of the falcon completes her conquest, 
 and in the very words Boccaccio puts in the mouth of the 
 heroine she accepts his love, declaring that she "would 
 rather have a man that stands in need of riches, than 
 riches without the man " (" lo uoglio auanti huomo, che 
 habbia bisogno di richezza, che richezza, che habbia 
 bisogno d'huomo "). It is, of course, necessary for dra- 
 matic effect to make the surrender immediate instead of 
 postponing it, as does Boccaccio, until after the death of 
 the son in whose behalf Monna Giovanna has come to ask 
 for the bird. The verse in which the story is told is good, 
 nervous, and free from superfluous ornament, the best lines 
 being those addressed at the outset by Federigo to his 
 falcon. It is natural, and not very important, that the 
 scene of the ruined cottage in which the action passes and 
 the difficulties of Filippo in providing the required deli- 
 cacies should suggest the kindred perplexities of Caleb 
 Balderstone : it is regrettable that the pleadings of Elisa- 
 betta, the foster-mother of the hero, in favour of Federigo 
 should at one point recall those of the widow Melnotte in 
 the " Lady of Lyons ". The reception of the piece was 
 exactly what might have been expected, amounting to a 
 succes d'estime. The setting is very attractive, and the 
 whole representation has remarkable colour. There is 
 little opportunity for the display of acting. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Kendal look exceedingly well. It is perhaps hyper- 
 critical to say that an Italian lady, such as is Monna 
 
DRAMATIC CRITICISM. 309 
 
 Giovanna, who, besides being one of the richest dames of 
 Florence, is also delle piu belle and delle piu leggiadre, might 
 receive homage as a matter with which she was so familiar 
 that it begot in her not the slightest feeling of a necessity 
 for rebuke. 
 
INDEX. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Addison, Miss Carlotta, 73. 
 
 - as Cherry, 294. 
 
 - as Nerissa, 29. 
 
 "A Fool and His Money," Globe, 201- 
 
 203. 
 Ai'dd, Mr. Hamilton, "A Nine Days' 
 
 Wonder," Court, 1876, 44-47. 
 Albery, Mr. James, 45. 
 
 - " Duty," Prince of Wales's, 1879, 
 
 298, 299. 
 
 "The Spendthrift," Olympic, 
 
 l8 7S' 37-39- 
 
 "The Pink Dominos," Criterion, 
 
 1876, 178. 
 " Amleto,' 1 Drury Lane, 39-44. 
 
 118-121. 
 
 "A Nine Days' Wonder," Court, 44-47. 
 "Anne Boleyn," Haymarket, 97-100. 
 Anson, Mr. G. W., 39, 162. 
 
 as Mousta, 88. 
 
 in " The Ne'er-do- Weel, " 208. 
 Archer, Mr., as Ernest Vane, 75. 
 
 - as Mephisto, 250. 
 Ashley, Mr., 178. 
 
 " As you Like it," Gaiety, 1875, 16-18. 
 
 - Haymarket, 95-96. 
 
 289. 
 
 Aquarium, "Grandfather Whitehead," 
 1878, 240, 241. 
 
 " The Inconstant," 182-186. 
 
 "The Liar," 1878, 239, 240. 
 
 - "The Vicar of Wakefield," 
 
 2l8, 2IQ. 
 
 Augier, Mons. Emile, 44. 
 
 B. 
 
 Baillet, Mons., 257, 281. 
 
 Bancroft, Mr., as Count Orloff, 201. 
 
 - as Prince of Morocco, 29. 
 
 as Sir George Ormond, 158, 159. 
 
 - as Triplet, 75. 
 
 Bancroft, Mrs., as Countess Zicka, 201. 
 
 - as Mrs. Haygarth, 176. 
 
 - as Peg Woffington, 74, 75. 
 Bannister, Mr., as Foigard, 294. 
 Barnes, Mr., as Bassanio, 305. 
 
 - in " Zillah," 291. 
 
 Barre", Mons., 271, 274, 275, 279, 281, 
 
 285. 
 
 Barrett, Mr. Wilson, as Pomerol, 296. 
 Barretta, Mdlle., 252, 277, 280, 281, 282. 
 Barry, Miss Helen, as the American, 
 
 135- 
 
 as Katherine, 47, 49. 
 Barry, Miss Katie, as Nana, 261. 
 Bateman, Miss, as Emilia, 104. 
 
 - as Lady Macbeth, 69. 
 
 as Queen Mary, 117. 
 
 - as Sarah Leeson, 189, 190. 
 Bateman, Miss Isabel, as Desdemona, 
 
 104. 
 
 as Letitia Hardy, 137. 
 
 as Ophelia, 5. 
 Beatrice, Mdlle., 53-55. 
 
 "Beaux' Stratagem," Imperial Theatre, 
 
 1879, 292-294. 
 
 Beavain d'Altenheim, Madame, 31. 
 " BebeV' by MM. Hennequin and de 
 
 Najac, 292. 
 
 Belford, Mr., as Mr. Page, 12. 
 Bellew, Mr. Kyrle, as Gibbet, 294. 
 Bellingshausen, Count Munch von, 32. 
 Bellini, 31. 
 Bernhardt, Sarah, 257, 258, 262, 263, 
 
 267, 268, 270, 277, 278, 285. 
 " Betsy," Criterion, 292. 
 Bianca, Mdlle., 265, 285. 
 Billington, Mr., in " Love or Life," 227. 
 Bishop, Miss Kate, 16. 
 Bishop, Miss, in " The Girls," 253. 
 Bishop, Mr., in "The Idol," 235. 
 Booth, Edwin, as Sir Giles Overreach, 
 
 179. 
 Boucicault, Mr. Dion, "The Shaugh- 
 
 raun," Drury Lane, 1875, 56-59. 
 Boucicault, Mrs., as Moya, 59. 
 Boucher, Mons., 257, 274, 285, 286. 
 Brennan, Miss, as Oriana, 183, 
 
 as Miss Parminter, 214. 
 Brooke, Mr. G. V., 19. 
 Brooke, Mr., as Cassio, 104. 
 
 as Selwyn, 222. 
 
 as Simon Renard, 117. 
 Brohan, Madame Madeleine, 259, 265, 
 
 272, 275, 282. 
 Broisat, Mdlle., 257, 265, 266, 274, 275, 
 
 285. 
 
 " Broken Hearts," Court, 83-88. 
 " Brothers," Court, 159-162. 
 
 Brough, Lionel, as Scrub, 294. 
 20* 
 
314 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Brough, Lionel, in "The Idol," 235. 
 Buckstone, Miss, 195. 
 
 as Lady Frances, 137. 
 Buckstone, Mr., as Pompey, 113. 
 "Buckingham," Olympic, 79-82. 
 Burnand, F, C., " Betsy " Criterion, 1879, 
 
 292. 
 
 Burnett, Mr. J. P., "Jo" (adaptation), 
 Globe, 1876, 108, 109. 
 
 as Buckett, 109. 
 Byron, Mr. H. J., 37, 45. 
 
 "A Fool andHis^Money," Globe, 
 
 1877, 201-203. 
 
 "Conscience Money," 1878, 229- 
 
 233. 
 
 in "Conscience Money,' 1 233. 
 
 " Married in Haste," Haymarket, 
 
 1875, 71-73. 
 
 "Weak Woman," Strand, 1875, 
 
 "The Girls," Vaudeville, 1879, 
 
 251-253- 
 
 "The Hornet's Nest," Haymarket, 
 
 1878, 227-229. 
 
 "Our Boys," Vaudeville, 1875, 
 
 13, 16. 
 
 C. 
 
 Calhaem, Mr., in "Zillah," 291. 
 Carlisle, Miss, as Bianca, 49. 
 
 as Jane Seymour, 100. 
 Came, Mr., as Sir Peter Lely, 222. 
 Carter-Edwards, Mr., 55. 
 Carton, Mr. , as Villiers, 137. 
 Cathcart, Mr., 47, 162. 
 
 - as Henry VI., 151. 
 
 Cecil, Mr. Arthur, as Baron Stein, 201. 
 
 - as Dr. Caius, 12. 
 
 as Chapuis, 100. 
 
 in " Duty," 299. 
 
 as Rev. Noel Haygarth, 176. 
 
 as Sir Woodbine Grafton, 159. 
 
 as Touchstone, 18. 
 
 Charing Cross, Jeanne Dubarry, 35-37. 
 Chaumont, Madame, as Berthe, 187-188. 
 Chippendale, Mr., as Polonius, 5, 246. 
 Clarke, Mr. J., 178. 
 Clarke, Mr. Campbell, " Love and 
 
 Honour," Globe, 1875, 53-55. 
 Clayton, Mr., 71. 
 
 as Mr. Beauclerc, 201. 
 
 as Henry VIII., 78. 
 
 as Wellborn, 182. 
 Clermont, Miss Camille, 178. 
 Clive, Mrs. , as Katherine, 49. 
 
 - as Clorinde, 45. 
 Coghlan, Miss Rose, 71. 
 
 Coghlan, Mr. Charles, " Brothers," 
 Court, 1876, 159-162. 
 
 - as Claude Melnotte, 52, 53. 
 
 as the Marquis des Arcis, 296. 
 
 as Shylock, 27, 28. 
 
 Coghlan, Mr. Charles, as Sir Charles 
 Pomander, 75. 
 
 in " Sweethearts," 8. 
 Colas, Mdlle. Stella, 18. 
 Coleman, Mr., as Henry V., 148. 
 
 - as the Duke, 28, 29. 
 Collette, Mr. C., in "The Liar" and 
 
 " Grandfather Whitehead," 242. 
 Collins, Wilkie, " The Moonstone," 
 
 Olympic, 1877, 190-193. 
 Comedie Franfaise, Gaiety, 1879, 256- 
 
 259, 261-287. 
 Compton, Mr., as the Gravedigger, 5. 
 
 as Marrall, 179. 
 Conway, Mr., 162. 
 
 as Faust, 250. 
 
 as Lucio, 113. 
 
 as Orlando, 96. 
 
 as Osric, 5. 
 
 as Sebastian, 206. 
 
 as Sir Geoffrey Deene, 299. 
 
 as Squire Thornhill, 219. 
 Cooper, Mr. , as Gratiano, 305. 
 Coquelin, Mons., 256, 257, 258, 259,274, 
 
 275, 276, 279, 282, 285. 
 Coquelin (Cadet), Mons., 266, 270, 271, 
 
 277, 280, 285. 
 Corneille's Polyeucte, 32. 
 Corrombona, Vittoria, 43. 
 Court, " A Nine Days' Wonder," 44-47. 
 
 " Broken Hearts," 83-88. 
 
 " Brothers," 159-162. 
 
 " Fernande" (revival), 1879, 294- 
 
 296. 
 
 " New Men and Old Acres," 
 
 163, 164. 
 
 " Olivia," 215-218. 
 
 " The House of Darnley," 195- 
 
 198. 
 
 " The Queen's Shilling," 253- 
 
 254- 
 Craven, Mr. H. T., "Too True," Duke's, 
 
 1876, 91-94. 
 Criterion, " Betsy," 292. 
 
 " The Pink Dominos," 178. 
 Croizette, Mdlle., 257, 265, 270, 271, 
 
 273- 278. 
 
 D. 
 
 " Daisy's Escape," Lyceum, 96. 
 
 Dalila, 45. 
 
 1 ' Dan'l Druce, Blacksmith," Haymarket, 
 
 142-145. 
 
 Davrigny, Mons., 270, 281. 
 Day, Mr. , as Moses, 219. 
 Delaunay, Mons., 256, 263, 265, 266, 
 
 271, 272, 273, 277, 278, 282, 
 
 285. 
 
 Denison, Mr., as Leigh, 218. 
 Devrient, Emile, 18, 40. 
 Dewar, Mr., 195. 
 Didier, 37. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 315 
 
 Dietz, Miss Linda, in " Duty," 299. 
 
 Dinah-Felix, Mdlle., 258, 277. 
 
 " Diplomacy," Prince of Wales's, 198- 
 
 201. 
 Drummond, Miss Dolores, in " Elfin- 
 
 ella," 224. 
 
 as Hortense, 109. 
 Drury Lane, " Amleto," 39-44. 
 
 118-121. 
 
 " Henry V.," 306. 
 
 " II Re Lear," 123-126. 
 
 ' Le Gladiateur," Italian version, 
 
 31-35- 
 
 "Macbeth," 162, 163. 
 
 "Macbeth," Italian, 127-129. 
 
 "Othello" (revival), 129. 
 
 "Richard III.," Colley Gibber, 
 
 149-152. 
 
 " The Shaughraun, 56-59. 
 
 " The Winter's Tale," 236-239. 
 Dubois, Miss Camille, 174. 
 
 Ducis, Version of " Hamlet," 41. 
 
 Dudlay, Mdlle., 278, 286. 
 
 Duke's, " Too True," 91-94. 
 
 Dumas, Alexandre, 32. 
 
 Dumasyf/j, Mons., 44, 53. 
 
 " Duty," Prince of Wales's, 298, 299. 
 
 E. 
 
 Eastlake, Miss, 178. 
 
 - in "The Idol," 235. 
 Edgar, Mr., as Aimwell, 293. 
 
 as Burchell, 219. 
 
 - " Elfinella," Princess's, 222-224. 
 Elwood, Mr. , as Salanio, 305. 
 Emery, Mr., as Jenkinson, 219. 
 
 " Engaged," Haymarket, 193-195. 
 Ernstone, Miss, as Olivia, 206. 
 Evans, Sir Hugh, 10. 
 Evergreen, Adonis, 60, 61. 
 
 F. 
 
 Falstaff, Sir John, u, 12. 
 
 Fargueil, Madame, as the Dowager 
 
 Countess, 141. 
 Farren, Mr., 16. 
 
 - as Archer, 293. 
 
 in " Grandfather Whitehead," 
 
 240-241. 
 
 - in "The Girls," 253. 
 
 - in " The Liar," 239, 240. 
 
 - as the Vicar, 219. 
 
 " Fatal Dowry," The, 178. 
 
 Faucit, Miss, 17. 
 
 " Fausse Agnes," by Destouches, 138. 
 
 Favart, Madame, 256, 257, 265, 275, 
 
 282. 
 
 Fawn, Mr., as Duretete, 183. 
 Febvre, Mons., 258, 259, 265, 266, 270, 
 
 277, 279. 
 
 Fechter, Mr., 18, 40, 42. 
 "Fernande," Court, 294-296. 
 
 Feuillet, Octave, " Le Village," 174. 
 Fisher, Mr. David, jun., in "Duty," 
 
 298. 
 
 " Flamingo," Strand, 62, 63. 
 Flockton, Mr., in "Love or Life," 227. 
 
 as Marrall, 182. 
 Folly, "The Idol," 233, 235. 
 Forbes- Robertson, Mr., 39, 177. 
 
 in " Dan'l Druce," 144. 
 
 in " Duty," 299. 
 
 as Fenton, 12. 
 
 in " Love or Life," 227. 
 
 in "The Ne'er-do- Weel," 208. 
 
 in "Zillah," 291. 
 
 Forbes, Mr. Norman, as Moses, 218. 
 
 as Lorenzo, 305. 
 Forrester, Mr., as the King, 246. 
 
 as lago, 104. 
 
 Francis, Miss Virginia, as Mrs. Racket, 
 
 137- 
 
 " Frederick Hulm," 32. 
 Fowler, Miss, 39. 
 
 as Katherine of Valois, 148. 
 - as Nell Gwynne, 221. 
 
 G. 
 
 Gaiety, "As You Like It, 1 ' 1875, 16-18. 
 
 Come"die Franpaise, 1879, 251-259, 
 
 261-287. 
 
 " Andromaque/' 277, 278. 
 
 - "Gringoire," 274. 
 " Hernani," 262, 263, 264, 
 271. 
 
 "II faut qu'une Porte soit 
 
 ouverte ou ferme'e," 266. 
 
 " II ne faut jurer de Rien, 1 ' 
 
 272. 
 
 " La Joie fait Peur," 265. 
 
 " L'Ami Fritz," 271. 
 
 " L'Avare," 277. 
 
 " Le Demi-Monde," 265. 
 
 " Le De"pit Amoureux," 277. 
 
 "L'tincelle," 278. " 
 
 " L'Etourdi," 285. 
 
 " L'Etrangere," 258. 
 
 " Le Fils Naturel," 259. 
 
 " Le Gendre de M. Poirier," 
 
 271. 
 
 "Le Jeu de 1' Amour et du 
 
 Hazard," 274. 
 
 " Le Luthier de Cre'mone," 
 
 271. 
 
 " Le Mariage de Figaro," 
 
 276. 
 
 " Le Mariage de Victorine," 
 
 280, 281. 
 
 " Le Marquis de Villemer," 
 
 265. 
 
 " Le MeMecin Malgre* Lui," 
 
 266. 
 
 " Le Menteur," 265, 266. 
 
 " Le Misanthrope," 255, 256. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Gaiety, Come'die Francaise, " Le Petit 
 Hotel," 271. 
 
 " Le Sphinx," 270. 
 
 ' ' Les Caprices de Marianne," 
 
 261-263, 2? 1 ' 
 
 " LesFemmesSavantes,"282. 
 
 " Les Fourberies de Scapin," 
 
 282. 
 
 " Les Fourchambault," 275. 
 
 " Les Plaideurs," 271. 
 
 "Les Pre'cieuses Ridicules," 
 
 258, 259. 
 
 " Mdlle. de Belle Isle," 266. 
 
 " Mdlle. de la Seigliere , " 274, 
 
 275- 
 
 " Mercadet le Faiseur," 279- 
 
 280. 
 
 "On ne Badine pas avec 
 
 1'Amour," 271. 
 
 " Phedre," 257, 258, 268. 
 
 " Philiberte," 283-285. 
 
 " Ruy Bias," 271, 278, 279. 
 
 " Tartuffe," 266. 
 
 "Zaire," 269-270. 
 
 Henry VIII. (adaptation), 76-79. 
 
 " Le Wagon des Dames," 187, 
 
 188. 
 
 " Merry Wives of Windsor, 1874, 
 
 9-12. 
 
 Garraud, Mons., 259, 271. 
 " Gavaut, Minard et Cie.," by M. Gon- 
 
 dinet, 62. 
 
 Giddens, Mr., in " Betsy," 292. 
 Gilbert, Mr. W. S., 37, 45. 
 
 " Broken Hearts," Court, 1875, 
 
 83-88. 
 
 " Dan'l Druce, Blacksmith," Hay- 
 
 market, 1876, 142-145. 
 r " Engaged," Haymarket, 1877, 
 
 *93-*95> 
 
 " Gretchen," Olympic, 1879, 247- 
 
 250. 
 
 " Ne'er-do- Weel," Olympic, 1878, 
 
 206-209. 
 
 " Sweethearts," Prince of Wales 's 
 
 Theatre, 1874, 6-9. 
 
 as Tom Cobb, St. James's, 1875, 
 
 29-30. 
 
 "The Vagabond" (Revision), 
 
 Olympic, 1877, 213-215. 
 Giovagnoli, Signora L. Papa, 35. 
 Globe, " A Fool and His Money," 201- 
 
 203. 
 
 " Jo," 108, 109. 
 
 " Love and Honour," 53-55. 
 Godfrey, G. W., "The Queen's Shil- 
 ling, "Court, 1879, 253-254. 
 
 Got, Mons., 263, 265, 266, 271, 272, 275, 
 
 277, 279, 282, 286. 
 " Grandfather Whitehead," Aquarium, 
 
 240, 241.- 
 Green, Mr. F. W., " Flamingo, "Strand, 
 
 1875, 62-63. 
 
 " Gretchen," Olympic, 247-250. 
 Grillparzer's " Das Goldene Fliess," 121. 
 Grisdale, Mr., as the Banished Duke, 
 
 289. 
 Guiraud's " Virginie," 32. 
 
 H. 
 
 Hare, Mr., 47, 161, 162, 164. 
 
 as Colonel Daunt, 302. 
 
 in " Monsieur le Due," 302. 
 
 in " The Queen's Shilling," 254. 
 "Hamlet," Lyceum, 1874, 1-6. 
 
 Lyceum, 242-247. 
 Harcourt, Mr., 39. 
 
 as Ablewhite, 193. 
 
 as Angelo, 113, 
 
 as Buckingham, 78. 
 
 as Jacques, 96. 
 
 as Mercutio, 288. 
 Harris, Miss Nellie, as Celia, 18. 
 Harvey, Mr. Frank, 55. 
 
 Hay, Mr. F., and Green, Mr. F. W., 
 " Flamingo," Strand, 1875, 62- 
 
 6 3- 
 Haymarket, " Anne Boleyn," 97-100. 
 
 "As you Like It," 289. 
 
 - 95-96. 
 
 " Dan'l Druce, Blacksmith," 142- 
 
 ,< 45> 
 
 " Engaged,' 193-195. 
 
 " Love or Life," 226, 227. 
 
 " L'Etrangere" (adaptation), 132- 
 
 136. 
 
 " Married in Haste," 71-73. 
 " Mary Stuart," 126-127. 
 
 " Medea," 121-123. 
 
 " Measure for Measure," 110-114. 
 
 " Romeo and Juliet," 287-289. 
 
 88-91. 
 
 219. 
 
 " The Hornet's Nest," 227-229. 
 
 "Twelfth Night," 203-206. 
 
 " Zillah," 289-292. 
 
 Haynes, Mr, T. P., as Mes Bottes, 261. 
 Heath, Miss, as Clotilde, 296. 
 
 as Elfinella, 223, 224. 
 
 as Jane Shore, 156. 
 Hennequm and Delacour, " Les Do- 
 
 minos Roses," 178. 
 Henri, Miss, as Lady Rochford, 100. 
 " Henry V." (adaptation), Queen's, 145- 
 
 148. 
 
 " Henry V.," Drury Lane, 306. 
 " Henry the Fifth," by the Earl of 
 
 Orrery, 145. 
 " Henry VIII.," Gaiety (adaptation), 
 
 76-79. 
 
 Herbert, Mr., in " Zillah," 291. 
 Herman, Mr. H., "Jeanne Dubarry," 
 
 Charing Cross, 1875, 35-37. 
 Hertz, Miss Ida, as Mion, 201. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 3*7 
 
 Hill, Mr., 29. 
 
 - in " Betsy," 292. 
 
 as Betteredge, 193. 
 Hill, Miss Caroline, 71. 
 Hodson, Miss, as the Duchess, 135. 
 Hollingshead, Miss, 47, 162. 
 
 as Vavir, 87. 
 Honey, Mr., 195. 
 Howe, Mr., 73, 195. 
 
 as Adam, 289. 
 
 in " Conscience Money," 233. 
 
 as the Friar, 288. 
 
 as Malvolio, 206. 
 
 - as the Duke, 113. 
 Hughes, Miss, 47. 
 Hugo, Victor, 35. 
 
 I. 
 
 " II Re Lear, 1 ' Drury Lane, 123-126. 
 Imperial Theatre, " Beaux' Stratagem," 
 
 1879, 292-294. 
 Irving, Mr. Henry, as Doricourt, 137, 
 
 138- 
 
 as Hamlet, 1-6, 242-247. 
 
 - as Louis XL, 209-212. 
 
 as Macbeth, 1875, 65-69. 
 
 as Macbeth, 164-166. 
 
 - as Sir Edward Mortimer, 299- 
 
 301. 
 
 as Othello, 100-104. 
 
 - as Philip (Queen Mary), 117. 
 
 - as Richard 1 1 1., 168-70. 
 
 - as Shy lock, 305. 
 
 - as Vanderdecken, 226. 
 
 J. 
 
 James, Mr. David, 16. 
 
 - as Plantagenet Potter, 252-253. 
 Janauschek, Madame, 121-123. 
 
 as Mary Stuart, 126, 127. 
 
 " Jane Shore," Princess's, 151-156. 
 
 " Jeanne d'Arc," 31. 
 
 "Jeanne Dubarry," Charing Cross, 35- 
 
 37- 
 
 "Jo," Globe, 108, 109. 
 Johnson, Mr., as Launcelot Gobbo, 305. 
 Jones, Mr. Ersser, 164. 
 Josephs, Miss Fanny, 178. 
 Jouassairi, Madame, 259, 265, 274, 280, 
 
 282, 285. 
 
 K. 
 
 " Katharine and Petruchio," Princess's, 
 
 47-49- 
 Kean, Mr. Charles, 19. 
 
 as Henry V., 145. 
 Kean, Edmund, 19. 
 
 as Sir Giles Overreach, 179. 
 
 - as Henry V., 145. 
 Kelly, Mr., 162, 164. 
 
 in "Conscience Money," 233. 
 
 Kelly, Mr., as Darnley, 198. 
 Kendal, Mr., as Capt. Beauclerc, 201, 
 
 as Orlando, 16-18. 
 
 as Prince Florian, 88. 
 
 in "The Queen's Shilling, "254, 302. 
 Kendal, Mrs., as Dora, 201. 
 
 as Hilda, 87, 88. 
 
 in "The Queen's Shilling," 254. 
 
 as Rosalind, 16, 17. 
 " Kenilworth," 32. 
 
 Kenney, Miss Rose, as Fernande, 296. 
 Klopstock, 31. 
 Kotzebue, 53. 
 Kyrle, Mr., 195. 
 
 as The Duke, 206. 
 
 L. 
 
 " La Fille de Madame Angot," 36. 
 
 Lamartine, Miss, as Lady Henry Fair- 
 fax, 201. . 
 
 " L'Assommoir," by M. Emile Zola, 259, 
 260. 
 
 " L'Autographe," 187, 188. 
 
 " L'Aventuriere," 45. 
 
 "La Veuve," by MM. Meilhac and 
 HaleVy, 233. 
 
 Leathes, Mr., as King Charles II., 222. 
 
 as Laertes, 5. 
 Leclercq, Miss Rose, 12. 
 Lee, Miss Jenny, as Jo, 109. 
 Lee, Miss Kate, as Guster, 109. 
 
 " Le Gascon," of Mons. Barriere, 105. 
 " Le Gladiateur," Italian version, Drury 
 
 Lane, 1875, 31-35. 
 Leigh, Mr., 162. 
 
 as Simple, 12. 
 
 Leigh, Mrs., as Mrs. Quickly, 12. 
 
 - as Audrey, 18. 
 Leighton, Miss, as The Prologue, 
 
 148. 
 
 Leonora, 45. 
 
 " Les Danicheff," St. James's, 139-141. 
 " Les Diables Noirs," of M. Sardou, 69. 
 " Les Folies Amoureuses," by Regnard, 
 
 138. 
 
 Leslie, Miss Fanny, as Phcebe Sage, 261. 
 Lethiere, Miss, as Marquise de Rio-Zares, 
 
 201. 
 "L'Etrangere," Haymarket (adaptation), 
 
 132-136. 
 " Le Wagon des Dames," Gaiety, 187, 
 
 188. 
 Litton, Miss, 30. 
 
 in " Beaux' Stratagem," 294. 
 
 as Miss Grantham, 242. 
 
 as Olivia, 219. 
 Lloyd, Mdlle., 266, 285. 
 
 " Louis XL," Lyceum, 1878, 209-212. 
 " Love and Honour," Globe, 53-55. 
 " Love or Life," Haymarket, 226, 227. 
 Lovell, "The Wife's Secret" (revival), 
 Olympic, 1877, 171-174. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Lyceum, " Bells," 1879, 2 9&- 
 
 " Belle's Stratagem," 1876, 136, 
 
 138. 
 
 Boarding School," 1879, 296. 
 Daisy's Escape," 296. 
 Hamlet," 1874, I- 6. 
 Louis XL," 1878, 209-212. 
 Merchant of Venice," 302-306. 
 Othello," 100-105. 
 Queen Mary," 114-117. 
 Richard III.," 166-171. 
 The Dead Secret," 188-190. 
 The Iron Chest " (revival), 
 1879, 299-301. 
 
 " Vanderdecken," 224-226. 
 Lynd, Miss, 37. 
 
 Lytton, Lord, 32. 
 
 " The House of Darnley," Court, 
 
 1877, 195-198. 
 
 M. 
 
 " Macbeth," Drury Lane, 162, 163. 
 
 Drury Lane (Italian), 127-129. 
 Macklin, Mr., 94. 
 
 as Dugard, 183. 
 Maclean, Mr., as Adam, t8. 
 Macready, Mr., 19. 
 
 " Madame attend Monsieur," 187. 
 
 Maltby, Mr., in " Betsy," 292. 
 
 Marais, Mons., in " Les Danicheff," 141. 
 
 " Marion Delorme," 36. 
 
 " Married in Haste," Haymarket, 71-73. 
 
 Marshall, F. A. , " The Inconstant" (al- 
 tered from Farquhar),Aquarium, 
 1876, 182-186. 
 
 Martel, Mons., 285. 
 
 Martin, Mdlle., 269. 281. 
 
 " Mary Stuart,' 1 Haymarket, 126, 127. 
 
 " Masks and Faces," Prince of Wales's, 
 73-76. 
 
 Massinger, " New Way to Pay Old 
 Debts," St. James's, 1876, 178- 
 182. 
 
 Mathews, Charles, "My Awful Dad," 
 Strand, 1875, 59-62. 
 
 Maubant, Mons., 264, 266, 270, 274,281. 
 
 Mead, Mr., as Brabantio, 104. 
 - as the Ghost, 5, 247. 
 
 as " Zillah," 291. 
 
 " Measure for Measure," Haymarket, 
 
 110-114. 
 
 " Medea," Haymarket, 121-123. 
 " Merchant of Venice," Lyceum, 302- 
 
 306. 
 "Merry Wives of Windsor," Gaiety, 
 
 1874, 9-12. 
 Meyrick, Miss, as Bisarre, 183. 
 
 as Dorinda, 294. 
 
 Middleton, " A Trick to Catch the Old 
 
 One," 182. 
 
 M'Intyre, Mr., in " Zillah," 291. 
 "Mirror," Self, 69-71. 
 
 " Moliere & Shakspeare," by M. Jean 
 
 Aicard, 255. 
 " Monsieur Jules," '59. 
 "Monsieur le Due," St. James's, 301, 
 
 302. 
 
 Moore, Miss Louisa, 94. 
 Mounet-Sully, Mons., 258, 264, 269, 270, 
 
 278, 279. 
 
 Murray, Mr. Leigh, 74. 
 Murray, Miss Ada, 261. 
 Murray, Miss Alma, in "Daisy's Escape," 
 
 296. 
 
 as Jessica, 305. 
 
 Muskerry, Mr. W., "The Gascon," 
 
 Olympic, 1876, 105-108. 
 " My Awful Dad," Strand, 59-62. 
 
 N. 
 
 Neil, Ross, " Elfinella," Princess's, 1878, 
 
 222-224. 
 Neilson, Miss, as Anne Boleyn, 99, 100. 
 
 as Juliet, 89-91, 219, 287-289. 
 
 as Isabella, 112, 113. 
 : as Rosalind, 96, 289. 
 
 as Viola, 205, 206. 
 
 " Nell Gwynne," Royalty, 220-222. 
 Neville, Mr., 39, 177. 
 
 as Buckingham, 79-80. 
 
 as Franklin Blake, 192. 
 
 as the Gascon, 108. 
 
 as Jeffrey Rollestone, 208. 
 
 in " Love or Life," 227. 
 
 - as Sir Walter Amyot, 174. 
 " New Magdalen," 44. 
 " New Men and Old Acres," Court, 163, 
 
 164. 
 
 Newski, Pierre, "Les Danicheff," St. 
 James's, 1876, 139-141. 
 
 o. 
 
 Odell, Mr., as Reuben Haines, 144, 145. 
 " Olivia," Court, 215-218. 
 Olympic, " Buckingham," 79-82. 
 
 ' The Gascon," 105-108. 
 
 ' Gretchen," 247-250. 
 
 ' The Ne'er-do- Weel, " 206-209. 
 
 'The Moonstone," 190-193. 
 
 ' The Scuttled Ship," 176-178. 
 
 The Spendthrift," 37-39. 
 
 ' The Vagabond," 213-215. 
 
 ' The Wife's Secret," 171-174. 
 "Othello," Drury Lane (revival), 129. 
 
 Lyceum, 100-105. 
 
 "Our Boys," Vaudeville, 1875, ZS' 16 - 
 Oxenford, Mr. John, and Wigan Horace, 
 " Mirror," Self, 1875, 69-71. 
 
 P. 
 
 Page, Anne, 10. 
 
 Pareti, Signora, as Lady Macbeth, 
 129. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 319 
 
 " Passion," by Mr. Roberts, 70. 
 Pateman, Miss, in " Conscience Money," 
 
 2 33- 
 
 - as Lady Eveline, 174. 
 
 - as Rachael, 192. 
 
 Paternan, Mr. in " Conscience Money," 
 
 233- 
 
 - in " Love or Life," 227. 
 
 - as Mr. Candy, 193. 
 
 Pattison, Miss Kate, as Margaret, 182. 
 Paulton, Mr. H., in "The Idol," 235. 
 Pauncefort, Miss, as Gertrude, 5. 
 
 as The Queen, 246, 247. 
 
 " Peril," Prince of Wales's, 156-159. 
 Petit, Mldle. Helene, in " Les Dnni- 
 
 cheff," 141. 
 Phelps, Mr., 19. 
 
 - as Falstaff, 12. 
 
 - as Henry IV., 145, 148. 
 
 - as Wolsey, 77-79. 
 
 Phillips, Miss Kate, as the Boy, 148. 
 
 - in " Love or Life," 227. 
 
 - as Maria, 206. 
 
 Phillips, Miss Roland, as Zillah, 291. 
 Pinero, Mr. A. W., "Daisy's Escape," 
 Lyceum, 1879, 296. 
 
 - as Salarino, 305. 
 
 " Pink Dominos, The," Criterion, 178. 
 " Pompeii, The Last Days of," 32. 
 Prince of Wales's, "Diplomacy," 198- 
 201. 
 
 " Duty," 298, 299. 
 
 " Masks and Faces," 73-76. 
 
 "Merchant of Venice," 1875, 26- 
 
 29. 
 
 " Peril," 156-159. 
 
 - "Sweethearts," 1874, 6-9. 
 
 - "The Vicarage," 174-176. 
 Princess's, " Elfinella," 222-224. 
 
 " Jane Shore," 151-156. 
 
 " Katherine and Petruchio," 47- 
 
 49- 
 
 " The Lady of Lyons," 1875, 50- 
 
 Princeps, Mr. Val, "Monsieur le Due," 
 
 St. James's, 1879, 301, 302. 
 Pritchard, Mrs., as Katherine, 49. 
 Provost- Ponsin, Madame, 269, 275, 281. 
 Prudhon, Mons., 257, 266, 274, 280, 286. 
 
 Q. 
 
 " Queen Mary,'' Lyceum, 114-117. 
 Queen's, " Henry V." (adaptation), 145- 
 
 148. 
 
 " Queen's Shilling.The," St. James's, 302. 
 Quickly, Dame, n. 
 
 R. 
 
 Reade, Charles, "Drink" (from the 
 French), Princess's, 1879, 259- 
 261. 
 
 Reade, Charles, "Foul Play," 176. 
 
 and Tom Taylor, "Masks and 
 
 Faces" (revival), Prince of 
 
 Wales's, 1875, 73-76. 
 - "The Scuttled Ship," Olympic, 
 
 1876, 176-178. 
 
 Redmund, Mr., as Lantier, 261. 
 Regnault, Mons., painter, 25. 
 Reichemberg, Mdlle., 271, 273. 
 Reynolds, Miss, 74. 
 "Richard III.," Colley Gibber, Drury 
 
 Lane, 149-152. 
 Richard, Mons., 274. 
 " Richard III.," Lyceum, 166-171. 
 Richards, Miss Cicely, as Belinda, 16. 
 Righton, Mr., in "A Fool and His 
 
 Money," 203. 
 
 as Sir Hugh, 12. 
 
 as Henry V. , 306. 
 
 Rignold, Mr. William, as Gouget, 261. 
 
 - as Petruchio, 49. 
 Ristori, Signora, 19, 25. 
 Robertson, Miss, 47. 
 Romanticists, The, 31. 
 " Romeo and Juliet," Haymarket, 89, 
 
 91, 219, 287-289. 
 Roselle, Miss, 16. 
 
 as Georgette, 296. 
 
 as Gervaise, 261. 
 
 Rossi, Signer, as Amleto, 118-121. 
 
 as Lear, 123-126. 
 
 as Macbeth, 127-129. 
 
 as Romeo, 130-132. 
 Rousby, Mrs., as Mary, 108. 
 Rouviere, Mons., 18, 40. 
 
 Rowe, Bolton and Saville, "Diplo- 
 macy," Prince of Wales's, 1877, 
 198-201. 
 
 "Peril," Prince of Wales's, 1876, 
 
 156-159. 
 Rowe, Saville, " The Vicarage, " Prince 
 
 of Wales's, 1876, 174-176. 
 Royalty, " Nell Gwynne," 220-222. 
 Ryder, Mr., as Antigonus, 237. 
 
 as Sir William Gascoyne, and 
 
 Williams, 148. 
 
 as Sullen, 293. 
 
 s. 
 
 Salvini, Signer, 123-126. 
 
 - as Amleto, 1875, 39-44. 
 
 as Othello, 18-25, I2 9- 
 Samary, Mdlle., 258, 274, 277, 278, 
 
 282. 
 Sardoa, Mons., " Dora," 198, 199. 
 
 "Les Bourgeois de Pont Arcy," 
 
 296, 297. 
 
 " Patrie," 198. 
 Scott, Sir Walter, 32. 
 " Self," Mirror, 69-71. 
 Shallow, n. 
 
320 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Shakspeare, "Amleto" (version of), 
 Drury Lane, 1876, 118-121. 
 
 " Amleto," Drury Lane, 1875, 39- 
 
 44. 
 
 "As You Like It," Haymarket, 
 
 1879, 289. 
 
 1876, 95, 96. 
 
 Gaiety, 1875, 16-18. 
 
 "Hamlet," Lyceum, 1874, 1-6. 
 
 1879, 242-247. 
 
 ' ' Henry V." (adaptation), Queen's, 
 
 1876, 145-148. 
 
 - " Henry V.," Drury Lane, 1879, 
 
 " Henry VIII." (played in three 
 
 acts), Gaiety, 1875, 7 6 '79- 
 / "II Re Lear" (Italian version), 
 
 Drury Lane, 1876, 123-126. 
 " Katherine and Petruchio " 
 (David Garrick's version), 
 Princess's, 1875, 47-49. 
 
 - " Macbeth," Lyceum, 1875, 64-69. 
 
 - Drury Lane, 1876, 162, 163. 
 
 - (Italian version), Drury Lane, 
 
 1876, 127-129. 
 
 (Revival), Prof. W. Newman, 
 
 Lyceum, 1876, 164-166. 
 
 - " Measure for Measure," Hay- 
 
 market, 1876, 110-114. 
 
 " Merchant of Venice," Lyceum, 
 
 1879, 302-306. 
 
 Prince of Wales's, 1875, 26- 
 
 29. 
 
 " Merry Wives of Windsor," 
 
 Gaiety, 1874, 9-12. 
 
 " Othello," Lyceum, 1876, 100- 
 
 105. 
 
 (Italian version, revival), 
 
 Queen's, 1876, 129. 
 
 Translation of "Othello," 1875, 
 
 18-25. 
 
 " Richard III.," Lyceum, 1876, 
 
 166-171. 
 
 (Version by Colley Gibber), 
 
 Drury Lane, 1876, 149-152. 
 
 " Romeo and Juliet," Haymarket, 
 
 1878, 219. 
 
 - 1879, 287-289. 
 
 1876, 89-91. 
 
 " Romeo e Giulietta " (Italian ver- 
 
 sion), Drury Lane, 1876, 130- 
 132. 
 
 ' ' TheWinter's Tale," Drury Lane, 
 
 1878, 236-239. 
 
 - "Twelfth Night," Haymarket, 
 
 1877, 203-206. 
 
 11 Shaughraun," Drury Lane, 56-59. 
 
 Shiel Barry, Mr., as Harvey Duff, 59. 
 
 Siddons, Mrs., 19. 
 
 Simple, ii. 
 
 Simpson, Palgrave, and Claude Templar, 
 
 " Zillah," Haymarket, 1879, 289- 
 
 292. 
 
 Slender, 10, n, 12. 
 
 Sothern, Mr., in "The Hornet's Nest," 
 
 228, 229. 
 
 Sothern, Mr. Lytton, in " Betsy," 292. 
 Soumet, Mons., 31. 
 Soutar, Mr., as Pistol, 12. 
 Standing, Mr., 178. 
 
 in " Betsy," 292. 
 Stephens, Mr., 39. 
 
 as Old Mirabel, 183. 
 Stephens, Mrs., 39. 
 
 in " Betsy," 292. 
 Stewart, Miss Julia, 195. 
 Stirling, Mrs., 74. 
 
 - as Lady Bountiful, 294. 
 
 as Mrs. Primrose, 219. 
 
 St. James's, " Les Danicheff," 139-141. 
 
 " Monsieur le Due," 301, 302. 
 
 " The Queen's Shilling," 302. 
 Strand, " Flamingo, 1 ' 62, 63. 
 
 - " My Awful Dad," 59-62. 
 
 " Weak Woman," 35. 
 Sugden, Mr., as Algie Fairfax, 201. 
 Sullivan, Barry, 162. 
 
 as Richard III., 152. 
 Sullivan, Mr. A., composer, 12. 
 
 " Sweethearts," Prince of Wales's, 6-9. 
 Swinburne, Mr. A. C., poet, 12. 
 Swinbourn, Mr., as Sergeant Cuff, 193. 
 
 as the King, 5. 
 Sylvain, Mons., 274, 278. 
 
 T. 
 
 Talma, 32. 
 
 Taylor, Tom, "Anne Boleyn," Haymar- 
 ket, 1876, 97-100. 
 
 Taylor, Tom, " The Vicar of Wakefield," 
 Aquarium, 1878, 218, 219. 
 
 Taylor, Tom, and Paul Meritt, " Love 
 or Life," Haymarket, 1878, 226, 
 227. 
 
 Taylor, Tom, and A. W. Dubourg, 
 " New Men and Old Acres" 
 (revival), Court, 1876, 163, 164. 
 
 Taylor, Mr., as Slender, 12. 
 
 Teesdale, Mr., as Quin, 75. 
 
 Tennyson, Lord, "Queen Mary," Ly- 
 ceum, 1876, 114-117. 
 
 "The Falcon," 1879, 306-309. 
 Terriss, Mr., in "Conscience Money," 
 
 233- 
 
 as Squire Thornhill, 218. 
 Terry, Mr., 35. 
 
 Terry, Miss Ellen, 162, 164. 
 
 as Clara Douglas, 51. 
 
 as Lady Juliet Darnley, 198. 
 
 as Mabel Vane, 75. 
 
 as Olivia, 218. 
 
 as Ophelia, 246. 
 
 as Pauline, 50-52. 
 
 as Portia, 28, 305. 
 Terry, Miss Marion, 35, 195. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 321 
 
 Terry, Miss Marion, in " Dan'l Druce," 
 144. 
 
 in " Duty," 299. 
 
 as Gretchen, 250. 
 
 in " The Ne'er-do- Weel," 208. 
 Thackeray, W. M., novelist, 29. 
 
 " The Belle's Stratagem," Lyceum, 136- 
 
 138. 
 
 "The Bells," Lyceum, 1879, 2 9&- 
 "The Boarding' School," Lyceum, 296. 
 "The Citizen," by Arthur Murphy, 138. 
 " The Dead Secret," Lyceum, 1877, 188- 
 
 190. 
 
 " The Gascon," Olympic, 105-108. 
 "The Girls," Vaudeville, 251-253. 
 " The Gladiators of Ravenna," 32. 
 " The Good Samaritan," 38. 
 " The Hornet's Nest," Haymarket, 227- 
 
 229. 
 "The House of Darnley," Court, 195- 
 
 198. 
 
 " The Idol," Folly, 233-235. 
 " The Inconstant," Aquarium, 182-186. 
 " The Iron Chest," Lyceum, 299-301. 
 "The Lady of Lyons," Princess's, 50- 
 
 53- 
 
 The Liar," Aquarium, 239, 240. 
 "The Moonstone," Olympic, 190-193. 
 "The Ne'er-do- Weel," Olympic, 206- 
 
 209. 
 
 "The Queen's Shilling," Court, 253, 254. 
 "The Scuttled Ship,'' Olympic, 176-178. 
 "The Serf," by Tom Taylor, 140. 
 "The Spendthrift," Olympic, 33-39. 
 "The Stranger," 53. 
 " The Vagabond," Olympic, 213-215. 
 "The Vicar of Wakefield," Aquarium, 
 
 218, 219. 
 "The Vicarage," Prince of Wales's, 174- 
 
 176. 
 
 " The Wife's Secret," Olympic, 171-174. 
 " The Winter's Tale," Drury Lane, 236- 
 
 239- 
 Thiron, Mons. , 259, 265, 271, 273, 274, 
 
 275, 277, 280, 282, 285. 
 Thome, Mr. Thomas, 16. 
 
 in "The Girls," 253. 
 
 Toole, Mr. J. L., in " A Fool and His 
 
 Money," 202, 203. 
 "Too True," Duke's, 91-94. 
 "Toto chez Tata," 187, 188. 
 Truffier, Mons., 273, 280, 286. 
 "Twelfth Night," Haymarket, 203-206. 
 
 U. 
 
 " Un Pere Prodigue," 59. 
 
 V. 
 
 " Vanderdecken," Lyceum, 224-226. 
 Vaudeville, " The Girls," 251-253. 
 
 " Our Boys," 1875, 13-16. 
 Vaughan, Mr., as Buckingham, 222. 
 
 Venne, Miss Lottie, in " Betsy," 292. 
 Vezin, Mr., 73. 
 
 as Dan'l Druce, 144. 
 
 as the Duke, 135, 136. 
 
 as Ford, 12. 
 
 as Jaques, 17, 18. 
 
 as Sir Giles Overreach, 181, 182. 
 
 as the Vicar of Wakefield, 218. 
 Vezin, Mrs., in " Duty," 299. 
 
 as Paulina, 236-238. 
 
 as Queen Elizabeth, 151. 
 Viner, Mrs., 39. 
 
 Vollaire, Mr., 39, 174. 
 
 as Pepys, 222. 
 
 W. 
 
 Ward, Miss Genevieve, in " Zillah," 290,. 
 
 291. 
 Warner, Mr., 16. 
 
 as Claudio, 113. 
 
 - as Coupeau, 260, 261. 
 
 - in " Elfinella," 224. 
 
 - as Young Mirabel, 183. 
 
 " Weak Woman, 1 ' Strand, 35. 
 
 Webster, Benjamin, 74. 
 
 Wigan, Alfred, in the " First Night," 
 
 241. 
 
 Wigan, Horace, 71. 
 Wills, Mr. W. G., "Jane Shore," 
 
 Princess's, 1876, 151-156. 
 
 " Nell Gwynne," Royalty, 1878, 
 
 220-222. 
 
 " Olivia," Court, 1878, 215-218. 
 
 - " Buckingham," Olympic, 1875, 
 
 79-82. 
 
 and Percy Fitzgerald, "Vander- 
 
 decken," Lyceum, 1878, 224- 
 
 226. 
 
 Wilmot, Mr., as Mr. Chadband, 109. 
 Worms, Mons., 263, 264, 265, 270, 277. 
 Wilton, Miss Augusta, in " Duty," 298, 
 
 299. 
 
 as Jessica, 29. 
 
 Wilton, Miss, in "Sweethearts," 8. 
 
 Wood, Mrs., 12. 
 
 Wood, Mr. A., as Colley Cibber, 75. 
 
 - as Launcelot Gobbo, 29. 
 Wood, Mrs. John, in " Duty," 298, 299. 
 Woodward, as Petruchio, 49. 
 Wright, Mr. Brittain, as Grumio, 49. 
 Wyndham, Charles, 178. 
 
 in " The Idol," Folly, 1878, 233- 
 
 235- 
 
 Y. 
 
 Yates, as Grumio, 49. 
 
 Younge, Miss, as Letitia Hardy, 137. 
 
 Young, Mr., 19. 
 
 z. 
 
 " Zillah," Haymarket, 289-292. 
 
 21 
 
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