[Illustration: 'S']
Solemn and severe German tragedy reigns in the Fourteenth Street
theatre. Once it was called the French theatre, and was devoted to the
witty comedies of SCRIBE, and the luxurious legs of OFFENBACH. But a woe
has been denounced against the SCRIBES and OFFENBACHS--(there is
considerable difference between the latter and the Pharisees)--of that
once gay theatre. Like many other French frivolities, it has lately
yielded to Teutonic tragedy. The cold and calculating German
"MEPHISTOPHELES" treads the stage where once tripped the light feet of
Parisian beauty. The burlesque Germans of the Grand Duchy of Gerolstein
have vanished before the grim and earnest countrymen of grand and simple
old King WILLIAM. It will be long before the French players find heart
to burlesque anew the German soldiery. It will be some time, let us
hope, before the German players at the Fourteenth Street theatre give
way to the shameless antics of French Opera-Bouffe buffoons.
PUNCHINELLO gives a glad farewell--with no thought of saying _au
revoir_--to the French follies that have given the French theatre so
unenviable a reputation; and he waves his pointed hat in joyful welcome
to SEEBACH and her German friends who have made the Fourteenth Street
theatre a temple of the classic drama. Like other places which can
properly be called dramatic temples, the theatre now partakes of the
solemnity of a religious temple. One goes to see SEEBACH, not to laugh,
but to test one's ability to suppress the desire to weep over the woes
of MARGARET, and to mourn with MARY STUART. Fortify yourself, O reader,
with a substantial dinner and much previous sleep, and come with me for
a night of German tragedy. Come to the Fourteenth Street theatre, not to
look back regretfully at departed opera-bouffe, but to SEEBACH. It is
with such reckless puns as the foregoing, that I endeavor to brace your
spirits for the exhausting struggle with six hours of tragedy played in
the most tragic and awful of modern languages. You are to hear _Faust_
in German. No man who has accomplished this feat can wonder at the
stolid bravery of the German infantry. It is said that the new recruit
is forced to hear _Faust_ once a week during his first year of service.
This terrible discipline has the natural effect of giving him that
steadiness under fire, at which the world marvels. He will stand with
his regiment for hours under the merciless fire of the mitrailleuse with
no thought of flight. What terrors can shot or shell have for him who
has been taught to listen unmoved to the dialogue of "FAUST" and
"MEPHISTOPHELES" in the first thirty-two acts of _Faust_?
We find the theatre full of Germans, wearing that grave and earnest
expression of countenance wherewith the German takes his legitimate
tragedy. Sprinkled among the Germans are several Americans, more grave
and more in earnest than even their Teutonic neighbors, for they are
straining their attention to detect a familiar German word--such as
"Mein Herr," or "Ach." When once they have heard the expected syllables,
they smile a placid smile of contentment, and remark, one to another, "I
can understand pretty nearly everything that is said,--with the
exception, of course, of an occasional word."
We take our seats and wait for the entrance of SEEBACH. The curtain
rises upon "FAUST" pursuing his studies in middle-age, respectability,
and a dressing-gown. To him, after hours of soliloquy, enters
"MEPHISTOPHELES." We observe, with surprise, that those estimable
gentlemen, Col. THOMAS W. KNOX and Hon. ERASTUS BROOKS, have been
engaged to play "FAUST" and "MEPHISTOPHELES" respectively, To be sure
the programme informs us that these parts are taken by two newly
imported German actors, but we prefer the evidence of our senses to the
assertions of the programme. Have KNOX and BROOKS been copied in German?
If not, they are now playing in Fourteenth Street. Don't tell me that it
is merely an accidental resemblance. Haven't I played billiards with the
gallant COLONEL, and gone to sleep when the Honorable EDITOR was
speaking in Congress? And shall I now be told that I don't know them
when I see them? But this is irrelevant.
Hours of dialogue succeed to the previous hours of soliloquy. At
intervals of fifteen minutes the curtain is dropped to enable the actors
to discuss mugs of beer and the audience to discuss the actors. During
these intervals we hear such remarks as these:
1ST GERMAN. "Subjectively considered, _Faust_ is a tragedy. Objectively,
we might regard it as a comedy. To the subjective-objective view, it is
certainly a ballet pantomime. Ach! he was many-sided, our GOETHE. Here
in this drama he has accomplished everything. There is food for our
laughter and our tears. It excites us and calms us."
1ST AMERICAN. "I should think it did calm us. That's why the old fellow
went to sleep and snored all through the last twelve acts. I think it's
the heaviest and stupidest play that was ever put on the stage. Of
course it's the greatest thing ever written, but then I prefer DALY'S
_Gaslight_, myself."
2ND GERMAN. "Ah, my friend, how this sublime creation stirs the inner
depths of our spiritual natures. Ach, Himmel! it is the poem of
Humanity. Let us go out for beer."