"Stand and Deliver."
The Merry Monarch's world is too much with us. I can't imagine what it
is in that period that our actor-managers find so peculiarly appropriate
to present conditions, when we need all the inspiration we can get out
of our country's annals. It seems only the other day that in the same
theatre, His Majesty's--the play was _Mavourneen_--I was assisting at a
rout (is that the word?) of Restoration society. And here we have it all
over again with the same scheme of a pretty _débutante_ near to being
compromised by the Royal favour; with the old galaxy of Court ladies
inexplicably gay; the same old Duke of BUCKINGHAM; the old dull sport of
improvisations; the old pathetic lack of wit; a _réchauffé_ only
tempered by slight variations, such as the substitution of LELY for
PEPYS, and the failure of the Monarch himself to put in an appearance.
For the rest, a generous allowance of swashbuckling, of kidnapping, of
standing and delivering, of interludes for dancing and gallantry--in a
word all the approved features of the High Toby. Nothing, you will
guess, that threatened to overstrain our intelligence, but enough for
the moderate excitation of those sympathies which we always concede to
heroic villainy.
The _clou_ of the evening was the scene of the waylaying of his lover's
coach by _Claude Duval_ on the Newmarket road. Animals on the stage (as
distinct from the circus-ring) always make me nervous. Mr. BOURCHIER
seemed to have anticipated my apprehension. On the approach of the
travellers, having hitherto, with his horse's consent, sat motionless at
the cross-roads, he retired with it into the wings and there dismounted
and continued the scene on foot. But the memory of those few moments of
superb equitation remained with the audience, and when, at the fall of
the curtain, he led his steed forward by the bridle (a just tribute to
its connivance) the pair of them brought down the house--and not the
scenery, as I had feared.
I am no pedant that I should cavil at Mr. JUSTIN HUNTLY MCCARTHY'S
re-adjustment of history. It was all for our delight that _Claude
Duval_, instead of perishing on the scaffold, should escape from prison,
have his freedom confirmed by the KING'S pardon, confound everybody
else's knavish tricks and marry the lady of his heart. Nor do I complain
that the historic highwayman (as I am credibly informed--for I got the
facts from another critic) was only twenty-nine when they hanged him,
and that Mr. BOURCHIER is--well, let me say, past the military age, or
he wouldn't have been there at all. At the same time he will not mind my
saying that, though he brought a very gallant spirit to his work, he
lacked something of that resilience which is so desirable a quality in a
Chevalier of the Road. Perhaps I liked best in him the quiet restraint
with which he met the assaults of _Orange Moll_ upon his loyalty to his
lady. He was not given very many good things to say, but he made up for
this defect by dropping his aspirates and talking in what I took to be a
Serbian accent.
[Illustration: RIVER SCENE NEAR WESTMINSTER.
_Claude Duval_ (Mr. Bourchier) disposes of his rival, _de Pontac_ (Mr.
Murray Carrington) in a riparian duel.]
Not much subtlety was asked of Miss KYRLE BELLEW as _Duval's_ lover,
_Berinthia_; but she seemed to have learned a little more sincerity and
to depend less upon the prettiness of her face and her frocks. Of Miss
MIRIAM LEWES as _Orange Moll_ something more was demanded, and I should
have enjoyed without reservation her very picturesque performance but
for a certain stage-quality in her voice which was out of all consonance
with the part she had to play. Mr. JERROLD ROBERTSHAW as _Justice
Hogben_ was a most attractive old reprobate; Mr. CHARLES ROCK as a
strolling mummer played like the sound actor he is; and indeed the whole
cast--and not least in the smallest parts, such as Mr. HARTFORD'S
drunken _Gaoler_ and Mr. PEASE'S _Dognose_, with his delightfully
unemotional "Ay! ay!"--did very well indeed.
If the play opens rather deliberately there is no lack of action when
once it gets moving; but it was an exercise of bodies rather than of
minds. Swords flashed; barkers were flourished (though they never went
off); feet twinkled in the dance, and Mr. MURRAY CARRINGTON took several
astounding falls; but wits remained stationary. I do not wish to appear
exigent, but as one who likes to be amused as well as entertained I
could easily have done with a little more scintillation.