[Illustration]
Amongst entertainments of a pleasing character the performances of "Mr.
and Mrs. GERMAN REED" hold their own gallantly. At the present moment a
little play called _Tally Ho_ is occupying the boards, much to the
delight of those serious pleasure-seekers who consider a box at a
theatre wicked, but find no particular harm in the stalls of St.
George's Hall. Mr. ALFRED REED and Miss FANNY HOLLAND are as amusing as
ever, and the music is all that could be desired. The dialogue of the
piece, or entertainment, or whatever it is, is not too new. I fancy the
author must have seen _London Assurance_, and listened to _Lady Gay
Spanker's_ description of the fox chase. And having seen the piece and
heard the speech, possibly read the burlesque thereon by the late
GILBERT ABBOTT A BECKETT, in the _Scenes from Rejected Comedies_,
published as long ago as the forties. "How time flies!" as a lady behind
me observed, after expressing her opinion that Mr. CORNEY GRAIN was
better than his pupil--JOHN PARRY! "I remember him as far back as a
quarter of a century," continued the fair dame, "and didn't you hear him
say he was over fifty years old when he sang that song calling himself
an old fogey?" Mr. GRAIN fails to do himself justice when he assumes an
elderly air inconsistent with the number of his summers. Such an
assumption can but cause pain--to his contemporaries!
On Thursday last _The Woman Hater_ was produced for the first time in
London at Mr. TERRY'S Theatre (on the grounds that familiarity breeds
contempt, I prefer to allow the actor to retain his titular prefix),
with more or less success. On the whole I condole with our country
cousins if they have been allowed to see this strange play very
frequently. Personally I would not care to form a part of any audience
at Mr. TERRY'S Theatre during its run, which I am bound to add I am
afraid will not be a long one. The construction of the three-act farce
(as it is called) is feeble in the extreme, and suggests that the
author, from a literary point of view, has a great deal to learn. I do
not think (unless his future pieces are very unlike _The Woman Hater_)
that he will have much chance of gaining a permanent position in the
Temple of Fame. This is merely a matter of opinion, but, speaking for
myself, had I a theatre (which I should call of course Mr. Thingembob's
Theatre, or the Theatre Royal Dash Blank, Esq.), I believe I should
somehow or other instinctively avoid the works of Mr. DAVID LLOYD for
some time to come. That is to say if he confined his pen to farce and
comedy. It is quite possible he may be much more at home in tragedy. As
a fact, there is a sort of gloomy glamour about _The Woman Hater_ that
suggests the reflection that, after all, the play might have been more
exciting if a murder had been skilfully introduced into Act I., and it
had been written throughout in blank verse. I think the lover, _Tom
Ripley_, might thus have been murdered with or without (for preference,
with) his sweetheart. Early in Act II. the character very nicely played
by Mr. KEMBLE might have committed suicide, with one or two others; for
choice, others. Act III. might have been allowed (after the necessary
alterations had been made to fit it to the requirements of the novel
development of the original plot) to stand as it is. In its present form
the incidents connected with the spiriting away (after a desperate and
revolting fight with the keepers) of the hero to a Lunatic Asylum, are,
to say the least, unpleasant. Mr. BISHOP, as the psychological
specialist (the resident medical superintendent of the licensed house),
was excellent. It is a question, however, whether those well-intentioned
representatives of the LORD CHANCELLOR, the Commissioners in Lunacy,
would have been entirely satisfied with his action in connection with
the incarceration of one sane patient in the place of another patient
equally free from mental disease. But that is a matter affecting the
author rather than the player. Miss M. A. VICTOR, as a widow lady of
great wealth and superior position, was, of course, quite in her
element, and gave an admirable sketch of a British matron from Belgravia
or Mayfair. Mr. TERRY, too, deserves a word of praise for his own droll
performances, which caused more than once, on the first night, a burst
of hearty laughter. Pleasantry apart, in spite of the acting, good all
round, I fear _The Woman Hater_ will soon have to return to the
provinces, to make room for something just a little better suited to the
London requirements of Mr. TERRY and the audiences of Mr. TERRY'S
Theatre.
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NEW BOOK.--_The Green Ways of England._ By a Warwickshire Man.
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[Illustration: SO VERY LIKELY.
_Small Rustic (to Brown, whose Champion North-Caspian Bear-hound has
just gobbled up one of Farmer Rackstraw's Prize Rabbits, which had got
out of the hutch)._ "IF YER'LL GI' ME TUPPENCE, ZUR, I'LL SWEAR _IT WOS
THE RABBIT AS BEGUN IT_!"]
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