(_A SKETCH FROM A NUMBERED STALL AT OLYMPIA._)
On the Stage, the Scene represents "A Public Place before the
Arsenal," where a number of artisans are apparently busily engaged
in making horse-shoes on cold anvils in preparation for the launch
of "_The Adriatica_." On extreme R. enter _Antonio_, who expresses
commercial embarrassment by going through a sort of dumb-bell exercise
on a bridge. On extreme L. enter _Bassanio_, _Lorenzo_, and _Antonio_,
who observe, with mild surprise, that there are several other persons
present, and proceed to point out objects of local interest to one
another with the officious amiability of persons in the foreground
of hotel advertisements. (_Here a Small Boy in a box, who has an
impression he is going to see a Pantomime, inquires audibly "when
the Clown Part will begin?" and has to be answered and consoled._)
_Bassanio_ perceives _Antonio_ afar off, and advances towards him with
stately deliberation, throwing out signals with one arm at intervals;
_Antonio_ goes to meet him; they shake each other by both hands with
affectionate cordiality, and then turn their backs on one another,
as though, on reflection, they found they had less to say than they
had imagined. Presently _Bassanio_ recollects why he wanted to see
_Antonio_ so particularly, and, by describing a circle in the air,
and pointing from the electric lights above to the balcony stalls in
front, and tapping his belt, puts _Antonio_ at once in possession of
his chronic impecuniosity, his passion for _Portia_, and his need for
a small temporary loan. _Antonio_ curls up his fists, raises them to
the level of his ears, and then pretends to take his heart out of
his doublet and throw it at _Bassanio_, who fields it with graceful
dexterity, instantly comprehending with Italian intuition that his
friend is, like himself, rather pressed for ready money, but is
prepared to back a bill for any amount. _Shylock_ passes that way,
and is introduced by _Antonio_ as a gentleman in the city who is in
the habit of making advances on personal security without inquiry.
_Shylock_ extracts imaginary ink from his chest, and writes with
one hand on the palm of the other, and cringingly produces a
paper-knife--whereupon the transaction is complete, and the parties,
becoming aware that a Grand Triumphal Procession is waiting to come
in, and that they are likely to be in the way, tactfully suggest
to one another the propriety of retiring. After the Procession,
_Valentina_, "the lovely daughter of the proud _Visconti_" embarks
on a barge with her maidens to meet her betrothed.
(_In the Stalls, a Lady with a Catalogue, who hasn't been here before,
mistakes this proceeding for "The Launch of the Adriatica," but is
set right by a friend who has, and is consequently able to inform her
that_ Valentina _is_ Portia _on her way to plead against_ Shylock.)
[Illustration: "Signals to Portia that it is not such an amusing game
as he thought."]
A mimic battle takes place on a bridge--i.e., rival factions shake
their fists with prudent defiance over one another's shoulders.
(_An Old Lady in the Balcony, who has been watching this desperate
encounter, finds that she has missed a very important Scene between_
Shylock _and_ Jessica _at the other end of the stage, and remorsefully
resolves to be more observant in future, as the Scene changes to
"Portia's Palatial Home."_) _Portia_ enters (_the Lady in the Stalls,
who has been here before, tells her companion that_ Portia's _dress
was "lovely when it was clean_"), and greets her guests by extending
both arms and inviting them to inspect the palms of her hands, thereby
intimating that the abundance of canopied recesses, and the absence of
any furniture to sit down upon, is due to the fact that the apartment
has been recently cleared for a parlour game. The company express a
well-bred gratification by bowing. Enter the _Prince of Morocco (who
is of course identified by various Spectators in the Stalls without
Catalogues as_ "Othello," _or "the Duke of Thingumbob_--you _know the
chap I mean_"), followed by his retinue; he kisses _Portia's_ hand,
as she explains to him, the _Prince of Arragon_, and _Bassanio_, the
rules of the game in three simple gestures. They reply, by flourishes,
that they have frequently played it at home, and promise faithfully
not to cheat. The three caskets are brought in and placed on a table;
the _Prince of Morocco_ is the first player, and walks towards them
very slowly, stopping at every ten paces and signalling to _Portia_
that he is all right so far, and that she is not to be at all uneasy
on his account. On coming in sight of the caskets, he pauses and turns
to the audience, as if it had only just occurred to him that the
odds were two to one against him, and he must be careful. Presently
he jerks his right arm above his head and strikes his forehead, to
indicate a happy thought, rushes at the golden casket, opens it, and
slams the lid disgustedly. After which he signals to _Portia_ that
it is not such an amusing game as he thought, and he doesn't mean
to play any more, beckons to his retinue and goes off, throwing his
cloak over his shoulder with a gesture of manly and not unnatural
annoyance. The _Prince of Arragon_ tries the silver casket next, with
similar unsuccess. Then _Bassanio_--with an elaborate pretence of
uncertainty, considering he can hardly have helped witnessing the
proceedings--advances to the caskets, in front of which he performs
a little mental calculation, finally arriving at the conclusion that,
as the portrait is not in the gold and silver boxes, it may not
improbably be in the leaden one. He actually _does_ find it there, and
exhibits it to _Portia_ with extreme astonishment, as if it was quite
the _last_ thing he expected. Then he advances to meet her, comparing
her frequently with the picture, and expressing his approval of it
as a likeness, and his determination to be taken by the same artist.
Mutual satisfaction, interrupted by the arrival of a gondola with
a letter from _Antonio_. To read it and impart its contents and the
entire history of the bond to _Portia_, by a semicircular sweep of the
arm and sounding his chest, takes _Bassanio_ exactly two seconds and
a half, after which he departs in the gondola, and the scene changes
to the Piazzetta, where a variety of exciting events--including the
Trial, a Musical Ballet, and a Call to Arms--take place, culminating
in the embarkation of Venetian soldiers to recapture Chioggia, in
three highly ornamental but slightly unseaworthy barges, as the
Curtain falls on Act I.
Interval of Fifteen Minutes, spent by some of the lady spectators in
speculation whether the dark and light patches on the blue curtains
are due to design or the action of damp. After which the Fortress
of Chioggia is disclosed, with a bivouac of the Genoese garrison.
A bevy of well-meaning maidens enter with fruit and vegetables for
the military, but, on the discovery that their wares are properties,
and too firmly glued to the baskets to be detached, they retire in
confusion. A small sail is seen behind the battlements; the soldiers
poke at it with halberds until it retreats, whereupon, soldier-like,
they dance. The sail returns with a still smaller one; red fire is
burnt under the walls, which so demoralises the Genoese soldiery that
they all tumble down with precaution, and the Venetians burst in and
stand over them in attitudes as the scene changes to an Island near
Venice and a Grand Aquatic Procession. (_Here intelligent Spectators
in the Stalls identify the first four pairs of gondolas,--which
are draped respectively in icicles, pale green, rose-colour, and
saffron,--as typifying the Seasons; another pair come in draped in
violet, which they find some difficulty in satisfactorily accounting
for. When two more appear hung with white and gold with a harp and
palette at the prows, they grow doubtful, and the entrance of the two
last couples, which carry shrines and images, reduces them to hopeless
mystification. The Small Boy wishes to know whether anybody will be
upset in the water, and being told that this is not a fixture in the
entertainment, conceives a poor opinion of the capacity of Mediæval
Venice for lighthearted revelry._)
Terrace near Portia's Palace, _Portia_, _Bassanio_ and the _Doge_
discovered enjoying a pasteboard banquet.
(_A Lady in the Stalls "wonders whether it is correct to represent_
Portia _as knowing a Doge so intimately as all that," and doubts
whether it is in Shakspeare._)
The supper-table is removed, and the proceedings terminate by a Grand
Al Fresco Carnival. Ladies of the ballet dance bewitchingly, while
soldiers play at Bo-Peep behind enormous red hoops. Finally the
entire strength of the ballet link arms in one immense line, and
simultaneously execute a wonderful chromatic kick, upon which the
blue draperies descend amidst prolonged and thoroughly well-deserved
applause from a delighted audience.
* * * * *
[Illustration: GRACE-LESS!
_Nursery Governess._ "NOW, ETHEL, SAY YOUR GRACE, LIKE A GOOD LITTLE
GIRL!"
_Ethel._ "SHAN'T!"
_Nursery Governess._ "OH, ETHEL! DON'T YOU KNOW IT'S VERY NAUGHTY NOT
TO BE THANKFUL, AND FOR SUCH A NICE PUDDING TOO?"
_Ethel._ "I WOULD BE THANKFUL, BUT"--(_much distressed_)--"I CAN'T
FINISH IT!"]
* * * * *