As the hero of a romantic play is obliged to possess all the cardinal
virtues and all the intellectual accomplishments, so the hero of a farce
is bound to be a fool. One of the greatest, and at the same time one of
the best fools it has been our pleasure to be introduced to for some time
is _Mr. Titus Livingstone_, in the new farce of "Love Extempore."
_Mr. Titus Livingstone_ possesses an excellent heart, a good fortune, and
an uncommon stock of modesty. His intellects are, however, far from
brilliant; indeed, but for one trait in his character he would pass for an
idiot,--he has had the good sense never as yet to fall in love! In fact,
the farce is founded upon that identical incident of his life which
occasioned him to suppose that he had taken the tender passion extempore.
Some sort of villany seems absolutely necessary to every species of play.
To continue the parallel we commenced with between tragedy and farce, we
observe that in the former he is usually such a person as _Spinola_, in
"Nina Sforza," whilst a farce-villain turns out to be in most instances an
intriguing widow, a lawyer, or a mischievous young lady. The rogue in
"Love Extempore" is _Mrs. Courtnay_, a widow, who, with the assistance of
_Sir Harry Nugent_, contrives a plot by which the hitherto insensible
_Livingstone_ shall fall a victim to love and her friend _Prudence
Oldstock_; with whose mother and sister the widow and her co-intriguant
are staying on a visit.
The moment fatal to Livingstone's virgin heart and unrestrained liberty
arrives. He calls to pay a morning visit, and instantly the deep design is
put into execution. _Sir Harry_ begins by a most extravagant puff
preliminary of the talents, accomplishments, virtues, beauty, disposition,
endowments, and graces belonging to the enchanting _Prudence_. He and the
widow exhibit her drawings,--_Livingstone_ is in raptures, or pretends to
be (for he is not an ill-bred man). What a piercing expression flashes
from those studies of eyes (in chalk)! what an artistical grouping of
legs! what a Saracen's-head-upon-Snow-hill-like ferocity frowns from that
Indian chief!
At this juncture the captivating artist is herself introduced. _Mr.
Livingstone's_ modesty strikes him into a heap of confusion. "He sighs and
looks, and looks and sighs again,"--he does not know "what to say, or how
to say it; so that the trembling bachelor may become a wise and good
lover." He stutters and hems in the utmost distress; to increase which,
all his tormentors turn up the stage, leaving him to entertain the lady
alone. The sketches naturally suggest a topic, and, plunging _in medias
res_ at once, he vehemently praises her legs! The lady is astonished, and
the mamma alarmed; but having explained that the allusion was to the
drawings, he is afterwards punished for the blunder by being threatened
with a song. Though at a loss to find out what he has done to deserve such
an infliction, he submits; for he is very sleepy, and sinks into a chair
in an attitude of supposed attention, but really in a posture best adapted
for a nap. When the song is ended the applause of course comes in; this
awakens _Livingstone_ in a fright; he starts, and throws down a harp in
his fall.
After this _contretemps_, the villany of the widow and her ally takes a
different turn. In a love affair there are generally two parties; and
_Miss Prudence_ has got to be persuaded that _she_ is in love. This it is
not difficult to accomplish, she being no more overburdened with
penetration than the gentleman they are so kind as to say she is in love
with. So far all goes on well: for she is soon convinced that she is
enamoured to the last extremity.
_Livingstone_ having a sort of glimmering that the danger so long averted
at length impends over him--that he is falling into the trap of love, with
every chance of the fall continuing down to the bottomless pit of
matrimony, determines to avert the catastrophe by flight. The pair of
villains, however, set up a cry of "Stop thief," and he is brought back.
_Sir Harry_ appeals to his feelings. Good gracious! is he so base, so
dishonourable, so heartless, to rob an innocent, unsuspecting, and
accomplished girl of her heart, and then wickedly desert her! Oh, no! In
short, having already persuaded the poor man that he is in love, _Sir
Harry_ convinces him that he would also be a deceiver; and _Livingstone_
would have returned like a lamb to the slaughter but for a new incident.
He has an uncle who is engaged in a law-suit with some of _Mrs.
Courtnay's_ family. To bring this litigation to an amicable end it has
been proposed that _Livingstone_ should marry the widow's sister. Here is
a discovery! So, the deep widow has been unwittingly plotting against her
own sister! Things must be altered; and so they are, in no time, for she
persuades the easy hero that _Nugent_ is in love with _Prudence_ himself;
but, finding she adores her new lover, has magnanimously given up his
claims in his favour. This has the desired effect, for _Livingstone_ will
have no such noble sacrifice made on his account. He seeks _Sir Harry_;
who, discovering the double design of the profound widow, talks as
immensely magnanimous as they do in classic dramas. In short, both play at
Romans till the end of the piece; the hero and heroine being at last fully
persuaded that they have each really fallen in "Love Extempore!"
This idea of persuading two persons into the bonds of love--of having all
the courting done at second-hand, is admirably worked out. _Livingstone_
is a well-drawn character; so well, so naturally painted, that he hardly
deserves to be the hero of a farce. Although exceedingly soft, he is a
well-bred fool--though somewhat fat (for the actor is Mr. David Rees); he
is not altogether inelegant. The gentleman who does the theatrical
metaphysics in the _Morning Herald_ has described him as a capital
specimen of "physical obesity and moral teunity,"[3]--which we quote to
save ourselves trouble, for the force of description can no further go.
_Prudence_ is also inimitable--a march-of-intellect young lady without
brains, who knows the names of the five large rivers in America, and how
many bones there are in the gills of a turbot. In Miss P. Horton's hands
her mechanical acquirements were done ample justice to. The cold unmeaning
love scene was rendered mainly by her acting
[Illustration: A N-ICE SITUATION.]
[3] _Sic_, actually, in the dramatic article of that paper,
Wednesday, 24th ult.
In fine, the farce is altogether a leaven of the best material most
cleverly worked up.
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