The other evening, the public were put in possession, at Covent Garden
Theatre, of a new branch of art in play concoction, which may be called
"dramatic distillation." By this process the essence of two or more old
comedies is extracted; their characters and plots amalgamated; and the
whole "rectified" by the careful expunction of equivocal passages.
Finally, the _drame_ is offered to the public in _act_ive potions; five of
which are a dose.
The forgotten plays put into the still on this occasion were "The
Discovery," by Mrs. Frances Sheridan, and "The Tender Husband," by Sir
Richard Steele. From one, that portion which relates to the "City," is
taken; the "Court" end of the piece belonging to the other. In fact, even
in their modern dress, they are two distinct dramas, only both are played
at once--a wholesome economy being thus exercised over time, actors,
scenery, and decorations: the only profusion required is in the article of
patience, of which the audience must be very liberal.
The courtiers consist of _Lord Dangerfield_, who although, or--to speak in
a sense more strictly domestic--because, he has got a wife of his own,
falls in love with the young spouse of young _Lord Whiffle_; then there is
_Sir Paladin Scruple_, who, having owned to eighteen separate tender
declarations during fourteen years, dangles after _Mrs. Charmington_, an
enchanting widow, and _Louisa Dangerfield_, an insipid spinster, the
latter being in love with his son.
The citizens consist of the _famille Bearbinder_, parents and daughter,
together with _Sir Hector Rumbush_ and a clownish son, who the former
insists shall marry the sentimental _Barbara Bearbinder_, but who,
accordingly, does no such thing.
The dialogues of these two "sets" go on quite independent of each other,
action there is none, nor plot, nor, indeed, any progression of incident
whatever. _Lord Dangerfield_ tells you, in the first scene, he is trying
to seduce _Lady Whiffle_, and you know he won't get her. Directly you hear
that _Sir Paladin Scruple_ has declared in favour of _Miss Dangerfield_,
you are quite sure she will marry the son; in short, there is not the
glimmer of an incident throughout either department of the play which you
are not scrupulously prepared for--so that the least approach to
expectation is nipped in the bud. The whole fable is carefully developed
after all the characters have once made their introduction; hence, at
least three of the acts consist entirely of events you have been told are
going to happen, and of the fulfilment of intentions already expressed.
One character our enumeration has omitted--that of _Mr. Winnington_, who
being a lawyer, stock and marriage broker, is the bosom friend and
confident of every character in the piece, and, consequently, is the only
person who has intercourse with the two sets of characters. This is a part
patched up to be the sticking plaster which holds the two plots
together---the flux that joins the _mettle_some _Captain Dangerfield_ (son
of the Lord) to the sentimental _citoyenne_ _Barbara Bearbinder_. In fact,
_Winnington_ is the author's go-between, by which he maketh the twain
comedies one--the Temple Bar of the play--for he joineth the "Court" with
the "City."
So much for construction: now for detail. The legitimate object of comedy
is the truthful delineation of manners. In life, manners are displayed by
what people do, and by what they say. Comedy, therefore, ought to consist
of action and dialogue. ("Thank you," exclaims our reader, "for this
wonderful discovery!") Now we have seen that in "Court and City" there is
little action: hence it may be supposed that the brilliancy of the
dialogue it was that tempted the author to brush away the well-deserved
dust under which the "Discovery" and the "Tender Husband" have been
half-a-century imbedded. But this supposition would be entirely erroneous.
The courtiers and citizens themselves were but dull company: it was
chiefly the acting that kept the audience on the benches and out of their
beds.
Without action or wit, what then renders the comedy endurable? It is this:
all the parts are individualities--they speak, each and every of them,
exactly such words, by which they give utterance to such thoughts, as are
characteristic of him or herself, each after his kind. In this respect the
"Court and City" presents as pure a delineation of manners as a play
without incident can do--a truer one, perhaps, than if it were studded
with brilliancies; for in private life neither the denizens of St.
James's, nor those of St. Botolph's, were ever celebrated for the
brilliancy of their wit. Nor are they at present; if we may judge from the
fact of Colonel Sibthorp being the representative of the one class, and
Sir Peter Laurie the oracle of the other.
This nice adaptation of the dialogue to the various characters, therefore,
offers scope for good acting, and gets it. Mr. Farren, in _Sir Paladin
Scruple_, affords what tradition and social history assure us is a perfect
portraiture of an old gentleman of the last century;--more than that, of a
singular, peculiar old gentleman. And yet this excellent artist, in
portraying the peculiarities of the individual, still preserves the
general features of the class. The part itself is the most difficult in
nature to make tolerable on the stage, its leading characteristic being
wordiness. _Sir Paladin_, a gentleman (in the ultra strict sense of that
term) seventy years of age, is desirous of the character of _un homme de
bonnes fortunes_. Cold, precise, and pedantic, he tells the objects--not
of his flame--but of his declarations, that he is consumed with passion,
dying of despair, devoured with love--talking at the same time in
parenthetical apologies, nicely-balanced antitheses, and behaving himself
with the most frigid formality. His bow (that old-fashioned and elaborate
manual exercise called "making a leg") is in itself an epitome of the
manners and customs of the ancients.
Madame Vestris and Mr. C. Matthews played _Lady_ and _Lord Whiffle_--two
also exceedingly difficult characters, but by these performers most
delicately handled. They are a very young, inexperienced (almost
childish), and quarrelsome couple. Frivolity so extreme as they were
required to represent demands the utmost nicety of colouring to rescue it
from silliness and inanity. But the actors kept their portraits well up to
a pleasing standard, and made them both quite _spirituels_ (more
French--that _Morning Post_ will be the ruin of us), as well as in a high
degree natural.
All the rest of the players, being always and altogether actors, within
the most literal meaning of the word, were exactly the same in this comedy
as they are in any other. Mr. Diddear had in _Lord Dangerfield_ one of
those parts which is generally confided to gentlemen who deliver the
dialogue with one hand thrust into the bosom of the vest--the other
remaining at liberty, with which to saw the air, or to shake hands with a
friend. Mr. Harley played the part of Mr. Harley (called in the bills
_Humphrey Rumbush_) precisely in the same style as Mr. Harley ever did and
ever will, whatever dress he has worn or may wear. The rest of the people
we will not mention, not being anxious for a repetition of the unpleasant
fits of yawning which a too vivid recollection of their dulness might
re-produce. The only merit of "Court and City" being in the dialogue--the
only merit of that consisting of minute and subtle representations of
character, and these folks being utterly innocent of the smallest
perception of its meaning or intention--the draughts they drew upon the
patience of the audience were enormous, and but grudgingly met. But for
the acting of Farren and the managers, the whole thing would have been an
unendurable infliction. As it was, it afforded a capital illustration of
[Illustration: ATTRACTION AND REPULSION.]
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