ti 64tairts.
Forty years ago, if any one asked which was the best pantomime in London, he intended to inquire in which piece of the class the effects of Harlequin's bat were most surprising, and the jokes of the Clown most provocative of mirth. At a more recent period, the question would have referred less to the " fun " of the harlequinade than to the quality of the so-called "introduction." The little simple story, comprised in a few short scenes, which had of yore preceded the feats of the comic masks, had swelled up into the all-important section of the piece, to which the harlequinade was but supplementary.
Within the last two or three years we have arrived at a new crisis in the history of pantomime. Now, when the experienced querist inquires respecting the comparative excellence of the Christmas fare, he alludes neither to the harlequinade nor to the introduction, but to the "transformation-scene,"—that is to say, to the one particular scene in which the personages of the " introduction " are changed into those of the harlequinade. It is in the elaboration of this one scene that rival managers now compete with each other, and he who accomplishes the brightest transition may be deemed victorious. This elevation of the "transformation scene" is certainly a very singular fact of the day. A termination of the old wars between Scotland and England by the enthronement of Johnny Armstrong as monarch of the two, would scarcely have surprised the aristocracy of either country more than the sublime position accorded to this scene—this border territory between " introduction " and harlequinade—would have astounded the late Joseph Grimaldi. In the mediteval chapter of pantomime history, Mr. Payne the hero of the preliminary drama was deemed the natural foe to the Clown; for, being first on the stage, and being moreover full of quaint imaginations, he usually killed the more conventional pleasantries by which his own antics were succeeded. Here was one histrionic genus pitted against another. But now both Clown and mime are cast into the shade by the one particular Beene in which dramatic action is altogether impossible.
Perhaps we shall hit on the right explanation of this curious state of things, if we attribute the rise of the "transformation scene" to the brilliant successes achieved at the Lyceum, under Mr. C. Mathews, by the pencil of Mr. W. Beverley. At the time when this distinguished artist came forward, the heyday of burlesque was over, and people were less ready to laugh at rhymed anachronisms than they had been a few years previously. Burlesque still forming the staple attraction of the Lyceum, it was thus necessary to afford it assistance in addition to its own humour. Under these circumstances, the whole weight of the painter's talent was thrown into two scenes; one a sunny landscape which formed the background to a regular divertissement; the other an expanding glittering picture, in which all that the mind could conceive of an arabesque mode of existence—of plants and clouds inhabited by lovely females, one habitation continually melting into another—was realized by the perfection of scenic art. Neither of these scenes, it should be 'observed, had anything whatever to do with the action of the piece. •
"Beverley's scene "—by which the second of the two was more particularly meant, was the lion of the day at each succeeding Christmas. But if burlesque was mainly attractive through such adventitious ornament, why should not pantomime be similarly equipped ; and where could a better place be found for the extraordinary decoration, than just that transition-point where the dens ex maehina of the story brings matters to an issue by the accustomed transformations. If the grand scene came at the beginning, it would kill all that followed it ; if it came at the end, it would find a weary audience, caring more about cloaks and greatcoats than about any specimen of decorative art ; for a lnuleqinnade plus an introduction is a harder matter to get through than a simple extravaganza. Expediency in more shapes than one pointed to the border territery, which likewise had the advantage of being free from action. Hence, we surmise, the phenomenon we have described.
This season, the sovereignty of the "transformation scene" is pro
claimed with great pomp. Mr. Fenton, the painter at the Lyceum has distinguished himself by a new principle in the design of his expanding glories. He first exhibits a number of kiosks, substantially magnificent, and these melt into more etherial beauties, among which female forms, subtilized as much as possible by appropriate management of light, are of course conspicuous. Thus, the solidity of Oneetal grandeur and the lightness of feerie are blended together in one moving picture. Mr. Cakott, the Haymarket artist, celebrates in a most elaborate manner the apotheosis of the Babes in the Wood." The little corpses are raised from the ground by means of curved bars, that make them recede as they rise, so that they remain over the surface of a lake,' attended by a profusion of swans and fairies. At the Adelphi, the fancy of the artist has been shown by an arrangement of all the pantomimic characters into a beautiful Dresden vase, of which they form the several parts. Mr. Beverley continues at Drury Lane the series of fairy wonders he commenced at the Lyceum. The Princess's may beregarded as the exception to the general rule ; for here we find a general attention bestowed on the harlequinade rather than a jealous devotion to one particular scene. As another feature of the day, in addition to the " transformation " triumph, we may mention the expansion of the " introductions " at the Adelphi and the Lyceum into regular burlesques, played by the dramatic performers of the establishment. At the Adelphi, Madame Celeste and Miss Wyndham, the Watteau Harlequin and Columbine, are assisted by Miss Mary Keeley and Mr. Paul Bedford, when they appear as the knight and lady of the rhymed preface : at the Lyceum, Conrad, Medora, and Birbanto, are represented not by ordinary mimes, but by Miss Woolgar, Mrs. Dillon, and Mr. Toole.
We have said that burlesque was no longer in its heyday when Mr. Beverley first distinguished himself at the Lyceum. It has lately received a new vitality from the genius of Mr. Robson, which in this class of drama has been most conspicuously displayed. The character which he represents this season in Mr. Planehe's new extravaganza, Young and Handsome, is not of that tragic complexion with which he is so much identified. He is a gallant Zephyr, placed in the midst of a Watteau atmosphere, (we are very Watteau-ish just now !) and his petty bursts of foppish love and jealousy excite infinite mirth. The extravaganza is the only one in London ; for with the single exception of the Olympic the theatres have all returned to pantomime, confining the burlesque dement to the introduction.
Previous page
