FITzBALL'S dramatic version of Mr. BeawEit's Paul Clitr,rd was produced
at Covent Garden on Wednesday ; and the applauses of a
crowded house testified its success. It is a musical melodrama, in which such of the persons and incidents of the novel as are best adapted for stage purposes are effectively introduced. It gives a tolerably correct outline of the story, allowing for the accustomed licence of dramatists ; though the promotion of the hero from a captain of highwaymen to a captain of infantry, is rather a supererogatory mode of saving him from the gallows. The dialogue conveys no idea of the eloquent and satiric humour of the original; matter-of- fact almost to commonplace, and but sparingly enivened with those
little equivoques that the incidents give rise to. The situations are not so striking in a dramatic as they are in a picturesque point of view.
The scene of the audience coming out of the theatre, with the rob- bery of Brandon and the Sloppertons, the apprehension of Clifford, and the consequent confusion, has a very real effect. The clamour of the crowd and the shouts of the link-boys is made to form a very effective chorus. The escape of the prisoners from Bridewell, the robbery of Lord Mauleverer, (who is riding in the Bath coach instead of his own carriage,) and the ball-room scene, are also very effective. The robbery of the coach is capitally managed : the lumbering vehicle, groaning under the heap of boxes on the roof, is drawn on by four horses ; and the work of plunder is accomplished in a masterly manner. The highwaymen were converted into footpads for the occasion, however ; which, as the coach had " real horses,"
should not have been ; and the gang, moreover, was abundantly nume- rous. The ball-scene was very gaily represented ; and the company, in the costume of the time, dancing cotillons, carried the audience back into the last century. Mr. COLLINS played Paul Clifford, and looked a smart and gallant highwayman ; though be strutted -a little too much. He sang the airs allotted to him with considerable taste and spirit. Mr. -Maxi-Ens, from Liverpool, made his debut as Scarlet Jack. He has a pleasing tenor voice ; and had he relied more upon it and less upon the flourishes which he indulged in too profusely, he would have been still more suc- cessful. Miss TURPIN, as Lucy Brandon, sang with too much effort and elaboration. Miss TAYLOR made the most of her character—that of a silly, romantic girl, ready to run away with the first pretty fellow she meets ; and who, becoming the wife of Scarlet Jack, is soon made a widow by the hangman. The characters, so graphically described in the novel, are but faintly shadowed out in the drama. Lord Mauleverer is converted into a mere superannuated dandy; and the only point made by W. H. WIL- LIAMS was the absurd one of pronouncing the r like a w on all occasions. Long Ned drew his fingers through his hair now and then, but this was the only sign of his coxcombry; and Augustus Tomlinson, the mora- lizing rogue, was almost mute. VALE, as Dummie Dunnaker, was quaint, without being too vulgar. Mrs. BATTERSBY, from Dublin—a capital representative of old dowagers and maiden aunts—looked Mrs. Slop- perton to the life. The other parts, too were well filled ; in short, the piece is very effectively cast,- notwithstanding H. 1VAELacs and G. BENNETT, two of the best melodramatic actors, are not included in it.
The music, by Messrs. RonwEra. and BLEWITT, contains some pleasing melodies and one or two effective choruses ; but there is too much of the BELLINI stuff—noisy accompaniments and roulading cadences.
One scenic picture of London Bridge by moonlight, by MARSHALL, deserves particular mention : it is admirable as a work of art. Tak- ing this as a sample of what the new management can do in the sort of dramas most available to the company; we should think that the public will be satisfied. Grand opera and the classical drama not being within their power adequately to represent, novelties of this sort, well got up, is their best resource. We are sorry to see Jonathan Bradford announced for revival. Macaire was all very well : but to revive a worn-out melodrama of the Old Bailey class at Covent Garden, is "too bad." BUNN, to be sure, set the example.
POWER has come back to us again, with his arch and frolicsome humour as fresh as ever : the roguish twinkle of his eye is as bright as before, and he is as much at home as if he had never been away,— though we've missed him many a time and oft. It is almost super- fluous to say that he was cordially welcomed. We saw him for the first time as Paddy Carey, in a little piece of that name, written by himself, for himself. Paddy is an epitome of the Irish character,—" a broth of a boy," overflowing with animal spirits, fighting and drinking with the "boys," making love to the young girls and wheedling the "ould ones," and kissing them all in turns : his fun and gusto are irresistible. Paddy finds the girl of his heart has taken up with another sweetheart ; and, after reproaching her, with a subdued tender- ness that strikes deeper than the bitterest anger—pleading his cause with genuine fervour—on hearing that his rival has inlisted in order to save the girl's father from prison with the bounty-money, he becomes his substitute, and follows the drum with pleasure sparkling through the tear in his eye ; not, however, without first taking pity on a lass that had been sighing for him, and making her his wife. There is nothing in the piece itself; it is the way in which it is acted that gives it value and reality. The face of young WEBSTER, who played the rival of Paddy, actually beamed with pleasure and admiration at Carey's gene- rosity a better testimony to the truth of POWER'S personation could not lie given. Powsat is either no actor at all, or one of the most genuine in his way that ever trod the boards. There is no art apparent ; all is free and easy, natural and spontaneous : lie seems the very creature of his impulses, and they are lively and kindly : his bursts of merriment and indignation are alike irrepressible. He is friends with the audi- ence at once, though he never seems to think of them ; and he not only puts them in a good humour, but makes them forget they are in a theatre. This magical effect is produced simply by being in earnest and
trusting to nature. We wonder it is not more catching : but the actors are for the most part such mere machines, that they seem to think "nature would put them out."
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