Z4r Orairtg.
Granted the very doubtful hypothesis that the London _public takes especial delight in five acts of blank verse, one would think that an author, before he began to prepare the intellectual treat according to the approved fashion, would select a material sufficient for the required dimensions. If we hear that a gentleman likes a whole bottle of wine
after his dinner, we at once suppose that it is a certain quantity of liquor that he loves to imbibe, and that this quantity is measured by the ordinary quart-bottle. That his wishes refer to the glass vessel only, with
out reference to the amount of its contents, would never occur to theMost literal brain. However, with those writers of five-act plays who imagine that they continue the Elizabethan tradition down to the present
day, the quantity of substance that is to occupy a given space is frequently the last thing taken into consideration. Five acts are to be hued; that is the first proposition. Such and such a subject must fill it, by some means or other ; that is the second. If the subject is sufficient, well and good, if not, then must its malleability or ductility be tested to the utmost, or something altogether heterogeneous must be tagged on.
Lord Bacon, when enumerating his so-called "Prerogative instances," puts in the twentieth place what he terms " Instantias persecantes," or Vellicantes" ; the latter name being given because, as it were, they twitch the understanding, and warn it of the admirable and exquisite
subtilty of nature. By way of example, he cites the remarkable fact that a small drop of ink is drawn out into many letters ; that a little saffron will imbue a whole tub of water with its colour, a little musk a large extent of air with its perfume, and so on. Ha I he lived now-adays, he would certainly have put the capability of a small theme to fill five acts among his vellicant instances. It is true that in Bacon's time long plays were written ; but then their length was mainly occasioned by their wealth of incident. The old Elizabethans thought they could not cram events enough within the space of three hours. The new Elizabethans are constantly employed in the task of making a very little go an exceedingly great way.
At the Lyceum Theatre, on Monday last, we had an instance of a very clever drama being damaged at its birth by a determination to make it fill five acts, instead of three, which are its natural number. The third, fourth, and fifth acts of A Life's Benson:, form a play of incident, which is almost complete in itself, and would be entirely so with a short scene of explanatory introduction. Lord Revesdale a proud young nobleman, has assisted in concealing the treason of Arthur Ringwood, a plebeian friend, who has taken part in the Monmouth rebellion. While he is absent from the home of his fathers, he hears from one Bancroft, a gentleman who seems to love mischief for its own sake, that his sister Felicia is receiving visits from Master Ringwood that compromise her reputation. In the first fever of rage he alludes to the political guilt of the offender, and Bancroft, quick to take hints, hastens to fetch the officers of justice. Having thus betrayed his friend in a passion the young lord instantly regrets what he has done ; thus forcibly illustrating the sound doctrine taught by Billie Nicol Jarvie's father the Deacon, that a man should not put his arm out further than he can draw it back again. The only thing to be done is to rush home as fast as possible and warn Ringwood of his danger. In his ancestral hall he finds a merry party celebrating his sister's wedding with the man he has so causelessly wronged. Her reputation is as pure as driven snow, and he has destroyed her happiness because he has chosen to place confidence in the first rascal who has crossed his path. 'When the soldiers, entering the house, seize Ringwood, and Felicia hears that her brother is the betrayer, no wonder that she calls down the imprecations of her ancestors upon a head so thick. However, Lord Revesdale, though his intellect is none of the brightest, has not a bad heart ; his leading vice is pride and that is a vice that may easily be allied with virtue. He persuades Bancroft to release Ringwood, promising as an equivalent for this good service that he will give up to him the name of a person deeply involved in the conspiracy in favour of the Prince of Orange. He himself is the person ; for although the Revesdeles have been faithful Stuartites, Charles the Second and his successor have not scrupulously fulfilled their pecuniary obligations to the loyal house, and therefore the present lord brings to the cause of William of Nassau the zeal of a patriot combined with the indignation of a creditor. This expedient does not work very well, for Bancroft contrives to get three victims into his trap in lieu of one. However, the Prince of Orange lands at Torbay just in time to prevent mischief, and to acquaint us with the fact that the last act of the drama occurs on the 5th of November 1688 old style. The story that we have told at more than usual length forms the matter of the last three acts of the new play; and a very good melodramatic story it is, admirably managed by the author, Mr. Westland Marston. That the mischief committed by Lord Revesdale is almost the result of accident, is scarcely to be considered a fault if the piece is to be judged by a melodramatic standard, though it would be a fatal blemish in a work of higher pretension. The humiliation of the proud lord and the righteous indignation of his sister are exhibited with great power ; and the catastrophe is an instance of a " deus ex machina" brought down with more than usual skill. Up to the last moment, the characters are persuaded that the noise without the prison-walls is occasioned by the arrival of the King's (i. e. James's) troops ; and the mystification extends to the audience. Hence when the gates arc thrown open, the s rise is universal and the day, moreover, is suddenly endowed with an historical interest,' which the manager has heightened by the very effective manner in which the concluding tableau is put upon the stage. Had no more been done than we have described above, there would have been small reason to find fault. But, unfortunately, the acts of the play were predestined to be five in number; and as five acts in London mean more than they do at the Porte St. Martin, (where they simply aiguify that a man has a long story to tell, capable of five essential divisions,) it was necessary to elevate the subject so as to fit it for its dignity. The play must not be one of mere incident, such as MM. Dunianoir and Dennery might have contrived, but it must be a psychological exhibition. Our readers, who have seen above the summary of three acts only, imagine that Lord Revesdale is a good-natured, good-tempered blunderer, whose idiosyncracy is useful in producing a series of exciting mishaps. But the author has an ideal of a far higher character floating before his mind. Lord Revesdale is a symbol of family pride; he uses much poetical metaphor on the subject of his ancestry ; the fiendish Bancroft influences him by assailing him on this one weak point, and the decline of the proud man from his unsullied position to the perpetration of a base action is designed to be as impressive as the fall of an (Edipus. To the audience, the grand climax of the work is the elaborate picture of William's landing, with which the whole concludes ; to the author, the story has obviously reached its culminating point when Lord Revesdale, banishing ancestral pride, drops on his knees before the villain Bancroft and implores him to save Ringwood. Now to the Revesdale pride the first two acts are mainly devoted; and as this pride is rather described than dramatically exhibited, we have a succession of scenes nicely written indeed, but totally devoid of interest. While Lead Revesdale retains his pride, no one cares about blip; it is only when he has thrown aside this original sin that he becomes an object of sympathy ; and then it is the sympathy attaching to a melodramatic hero, who attempts at any amount of self-sacrifice to get a friend out of a scrape. Thus, a strong melodrama is wedded to a feeble dramatic poem : and there is only one circumstance that prevents this inauspicious union from doing infinite mischief—the circumstance, namely, that the dramatic poem comes early instead of late; so that, in the bustle of the concluding portion, the audience are able to forget it. Had the non-melodramatic element prevailed longer, neither the energies of Mr. and Mrs. Dillon, (who in spite of indisposition exerted themselves on Monday with the best of heroism,) nor even the picture at the end, could have prevented the frequent yawn from taking the place of the hearty plaudit. "All's Well that Ends Well," if it had not been preoccupied by Shakspere, would be an appropriate title for Mr. Marston's play.
Several theatres are vying with each other in the production of Une _Femme qui _Bowie son Atari, the posthumous work by Madame Emile de Girardin, which we noticed in chronicling the Parisian events of last October. The subject is the expedient of a devoted wife, who, to save a Girondin husband during the dictatorship of Robespierre, feigns to live apart from him and to detest him, merely that she may conceal him in her own house without suspicion. At the Haymarket, a literal version of this piece, entitled A Wicked Wife, was produced on Monday ; at the Olympic, an "adaptation," called A sheep in Wolf's Clothing, was brought out on Thursday. Mr. Tom Taylor, who is the author of the latter, has modified the original to a considerable extent, changing the scene of action from Paris to the West of England, in the days immediately following the battle of Sedgemore, and effecting this tranformation not by a mere alteration of proper names, but by a reconstruction of the plot and dialogue, that gives the work a local colouring proper to the period of Monmouth and of Jeffreys. Both versions are perfectly successful; Miss Reynolds at the Haymarket, and Mrs. Stirling at the Olympic gaining abundant applause in the character played at Paris by Madame Rose Cheri. Next Monday we may expect a third version at the Lyceum.
This week may be celebrated in theatrical annals as the week of " dii ex machina." At the Lyceum, the Prince of Orange lands at Torbay to save Lord Revesdale ; in the literal version of Madame Girardin's piece played at the Haymarket, the Therinidorians upset Robespierre on purpose to help a virtuous wife and husband out of their perplexity; and in Mr. Taylor's freer adaptation, the same worthy purpose is served by young John Churchill, who brings the recall of Colonel Kirke when the latter seems to be safely established as despot of Western England. Who shall say there is no use in history ?
The genial humour of Mr. Barney Williams is displayed to its full extent in a farce produced at the Adelphi. He represents an Hibernian of low life, who by one of those German land-lotteries that are from time to time advertised, becomes possessor of a baronial castle. He enters upon his dignity with a full resolution to enjoy himself ; but he is as ill suited to the new position as Christopher Sly under circumstances of equally sudden elevation. His fastidiousness is of that intensely vulgar sort that cannot accommodate itself to any convention whatever : he detests sauerkraut, he adores potatoes ; and a heterodox manner of boiling the latter is to him the deadliest of offences. It is only a wonder that he likes German wine ; and his taste in this respect is most fortunate, for it affords Mr. Barney Willisma an opportunity of exhibiting the pantomime of drunkenness, with an exuberance of practical detail that is really marvellous. A thorough delineation of character is by no means a common thing at the present day, and therefore an acquaintance with Barney the Baron may be strongly recommended.
PARISIAN THEATRICALS.
A two-act comedy by the veteran dramatist M. de Melesville, entitled Un Vera do Virgile, has been brought out at the Theatre Francais. The idea is far from novel. An Austrian noble, who perished at Vienna during the troubles of 1848, had bequeathed to his old tutor the charge of a young daughter, an Elzevir edition of Virgil, and a letter that vaguely hints at the existence of a treasure. After several years have passed, the treasure is discovered. The preceptor while giving a Latin lesson is struck by the well-known line,
" Tiqre to patulte recubans sub tegmine fagi."
" Fagi" ?—" Beech" ?—The foot of a beech-tree marks the place of concealment. The character of the tutor is played by M. Regnier. At the Aneien Cirque there is a new feeme in thirty (!) tableaux, called Le _Diable d'Argeni. The fiend referred to in the title is bound to execute every order given by the owner of a certain bell, which resembles in its nature the lamp of Aladdin, and grows so thin in the service of his taskmaster, that to recover metallic flesh he plunges into a silver lake. Another magical gift that plays an important part in the same piece, is a pearl necklace bestowed upon the hero by the goddess Fortune, which loses a bead every time its powers are put into requisition. The authors are MM. A. Bourgeois, Brisebarre, and Laurent. The aggregate receipts of the places of public amusement during the month of January amounted to 1,540,5811. 90c. ; being an increase of 238,106f. 55e. on the receipts of December last, and an increase of 325,448f. 65c. on those of January 1856.
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