Since playwrights have left off plotting and under-plotting on their own
account, and depend almost entirely upon the "French," managers have added
a new member to their establishments, and, like the morning papers, employ
a Paris correspondent, that French plays, as well as French eggs, may be
brought over quite fresh; though from the slovenly manner in which they
(the pieces, not the eggs) are too often prepared for the English market,
they are seldom _neat_ as imported.
The gentleman who "does" the Parisian correspondence for the Adelphi
Theatre, has supplied it with a vaudeville bearing the above title; the
fable, of which, like some of Æsop's, principally concerns a hen, that,
however, does not speak, and a smart cockscomb who does--an innocent
little fair who has charge of the fowl--a sort of _Justice Woodcock_, and
a bombardier who, because he is in the uniform of a drum or bugle-major,
calls himself a serjeant. To these may be added, Mr. Yates in his own
private character, and a few sibilants in the pit, who completed the
poultry-nature of the piece by playing the part of geese.
The plot would have been without interest, but for the accidental
introduction of the last two characters,--or the geese and the
cock-of-the-walk. The pittites, affronted at the extreme puerility of some
of the incidents, and the inanity of all the dialogue, hissed. This
raffled the feathers of the cock-of-the-walk, who was already on, or
rather at, the wing; and he flew upon the stage in a tantrum, to silence
the geese. Mr. Yates spoke--we need not say how or what. Everybody knows
how he of the Adelphi shrugs his shoulders, and squeezes his hat, and
smiles, and frowns, and "appeals" and "declares upon his honour" while
agitating the buttons on the left side of his coat, and "entreats" and
"throws himself upon the candour of a British public," and puts the stamp
upon all he has said by an impressive thump of the foot, a final flourish
of the arms, and a triumphal exit to poean-sounding "bravoes!" and to the
utter confusion of all dis--or to be more correct, hiss--sentients.
In the end, however, the latter triumphed; and _Cocorico_ deserved its
fate in spite of the actors. Mrs. Grattan played the chief character with
much tact and cleverness, singing the vaudevilles charmingly--a most
difficult task, we should say, on account of the adapter, in putting
English words to French music, having ignorantly mis-accentuated a large
majority of them. Miss Terrey infused into a simple country girl a degree
of character which shews that she has not yet fallen into the vampire-trap
of too many young performers--stage conventionalism, and that she copies
from Nature. It is unfortunate for both these clever actresses that they
have been thrust into a piece, which not even their talents could save
from partial ----, but it is a naughty word, and Mrs. Judy has grown very
strict. The piece wants _cur_-tailment; which, if previously applied, will
increase the interest, and make it, perhaps, an endurable dramatic
[Illustration: FRENCH "TAIL"--WITH CUTS.]
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