The production upon the stage of a tragedy "not intended for an acting
play," as a broad travestie, is a novel and dangerous experiment--one,
however, which the combined genius of the Dramatic Authors' Council has
made, with the utmost success. The "Hungarian Daughter" was, under the
title of "Martinuzzi," received, on its first appearance, with bursts of
applause and convulsions of laughter!
The plot of this piece our literary reviewer has expressed himself unable
to unravel. We are in the same condition; all we can promise is some
account of the scenes as they followed each other; of the characters, the
sentiments, the poetry, and the rest of the fun.
The play opens with an elderly gentleman, in a spangled dressing-gown, who
commences business by telling us the time of day, poetically clapping a
wig upon the sun, by saying, he
"Shakes day about, like perfume from his _hair_,"
which statement bears out the after sentence, that "the wisdom he endures
is terrible!" An Austrian gentleman--whose dress made us at first mistake
him for Richard III. on his travels--arrives to inform the gentleman _en
déshabille_--no other than _Cardinal Martinuzzi_ himself--that he has come
from King Ferdinand, to ask if he will be so good as to give up some
regency; which the Cardinal, however, respectfully declines doing. A
gentleman from Warsaw is next announced, and _Castaldo_ retires, having
incidentally declared a passion for the reigning queen of Hungary.
Mr. Selby, as _Rupert_ from Warsaw, then appears, in a dress most
correctly copied from the costume of the knave of clubs. Being a Pole, he
stirs up the Cardinal vigorously enough to provoke some exceedingly
intemperate language, chiefly by bringing to his memory a case of
child-stealing, to which _Martinuzzi_ was, before he had quite sown his
wild oats, _particeps criminis_. This case having got into the papers
(which _Rupert_ had preserved), the Cardinal wants to obtain them, but
offers a price not long enough for the Pole, who, declaring that
_Martinuzzi_ carries it "too high" to be trusted with them, vanishes. Mr.
Morley afterwards comes forward to sing a song according to Act of
Parliament, and the scene changes for Miss Collect to comply, a second
time, with the 25th of George II.
In the following scene, the Queen Dowager of Hungary, _Isabella_,
introduces herself to the audience, to inform them that the Austrian
gentleman, _Castaldo_, is
"the mild,
Pity-fraught object of her fondness."
He appears. She makes several inflammatory speeches, which he seems
determined not to understand, for he is in love with the virgin queen; and
maidens before dowagers is evidently his sensible motto.
The second act opens with the queen junior stating her assurance, that if
she lives much longer she will die, and that when she is quite dead, she
will hate _Martinuzzi_[3]. As, however, she means to hate when she is
deceased, she will make the most of her time while alive, by devoting
herself to courtship and _Castaldo_: for a very tender love-scene ensues,
at the end of which the lady elopes, to leave the lover a clear stage for
some half-dozen minutes' ecstatics, appropriately ended by his arrest,
ordered by _Martinuzzi_. Why, it is not stated, the officer not even
producing the copy of a writ.
[3] "_Czerina._ When I am dead--which will be soon--I feel,
If I much longer on my throne remain,
I shall abhor the name of Martinuzzi."
In the next scene, _Isabella_ is visited by _Rupert_, who disinterestedly
presents the dowager with the papers for nothing, which he was before
offered an odd castle and snug estate for, by _Martinuzzi_. This is
accounted for on no other supposition, than the proverbial gallantry of
gentlemen from Warsaw.
_Martinuzzi_, possessing a ward whom he is anxious should wed the queen,
opens the third act by declaring he will "precipitate the match," and so
the author considerately sends _Czerina_ to him, to talk the matter over.
But the young lady gets into a passion, and the Cardinal declares he can
make nothing of her, in the following passage:--
"Fool! I can make thee nothing but a laugh."
A sentiment to which the audience gave a most vociferous echo. The damsel
is angry that she may not have the man she has chosen, and threatens to
faint, but defers that operation till her lover's arms are near enough to
receive her; which they happen to be just in time, for _Martinuzzi_
retires and _Castaldo_ comes on. _Czerina_, to be quite sure, exclaims,
"_Are_ these thy arms?" (_sic_) and finally faints in the lover's embrace,
so as to exhibit a picturesque cuddle.
_Queen Isabella_ is discovered, in the second scene of this act, perusing
the much vaunted "papers" with intense interest. Unluckily _Castaldo_
chooses that moment to complain, that _Martinuzzi_ will not let him marry
her rival. The queen, being by no means a temperate person, and wondering
at his impudence in telling _her_ such a tale, raves thus:--
"My soul's on fire I'm choked, and seem to perish;
_But will suppress my scream_"
Probably for fear of compromising _Castaldo_, who is alone with her; and
she ends the act by requesting the Austrian to murder _Martinuzzi_; to
which he is so obliging as to consent, the more so, as an order comes from
the Secretary of State for foreign affairs, of his own government, to "cut
off" (_sic_) the Regent.
The fourth act is enlivened by a masquerade and a murder. The gentleman
from Warsaw having abused the hospitality of his host by getting drunk, is
punished by one of _Martinuzzi's_ attendants with a mortal stab; and
having, in the agonies of death, made a careful survey of all the sofas in
the apartment, suits himself with the softest, and dies in great comfort.
After this, the masquerade proceeds with spirit. _Isabella_ mixes in the
festive scene, disguised in a domino, made of black sticking-plaster.
_Czerina_ overhears that she is a usurper and a changeling, and expresses
her surprise in a line most unblushingly stolen from Fitz-Ball and the
other poetico-melo-dramatists:--
"Merciful Heavens! do my ears deceive me?"
The festivities conclude with an altercation between _Martinuzzi_ and
_Isabella_, carried on with much vigour on both sides. The lady accuses
the gentleman of inebriation, and he owns the soft impeachment, fully
bearing it out by several incoherent speeches.
This was one of the most successful scenes in the comedy. The death of
_Rupert_, Mr. Morley's song about "The sea," the quarrel (which was about
the great pivot of the plot, "the papers," inscribed, says _Martinuzzi_,
"With ink that's _brew'd_ in the infernal Styx,")
were all received with uproarious bursts of laughter.
In the fifth act, we behold _Martinuzzi_ and the usurping young Queen
making matters up at a railway pace. She has it all her own way. If she
choose, she may marry _Castaldo_, retire into private life, be a
"farm-house thrall," and keep a "dairy;" for which estate she has
previously expressed a decided predilection[4].
[4] Acting play, published in the theatre, p. 32.
But it is the next scene that the author seems to have reserved for
putting forth his strongest powers of burlesque and broad humour.
_Isabella_ and _Castaldo_ are together; the latter feels a little afraid
to murder _Martinuzzi_, but is impelled to the deed by a thousand
imaginary torches, which he fears will hurry his "_moth_-like soul" into
their "blinding sun-beams," till it (the soul) is scorched "_into_
cinders."
_Castaldo_ appears, in truth, a very bad barber of murders; for, as he is
rushing out to
"Strike the tyrant down--in crimson streams
Rend every nerve,"
_Isabella_ has the shrewdness to discover that he is without a weapon.
Important omission! The incipient assassin exclaims--
"Oh! that I had my sword!"
but at that moment (clever, dramatic contrivance!)
[_Enter_ CZERINA, _with a drawn sword_.]
"CZERINA. There's one! Thine own!"
Far from being grateful for this opportune supply of ways and means for
murder. _Castaldo_ calls the bilbo a "fated aspic," upon the edge of which
his "eye-balls crack to look," and makes a raving exit from the stage, to
a roaring laugh from the audience.
It is quite clear to _Isabella_, from his extreme carelessness about his
tools, that _Castaldo_ is not safely to be trusted with a job which
requires so much tact and business-like exactitude as the capital offence.
She therefore "_shows a phial_," which she intends, "occasion suiting,"
for "_Martinuzzi's_ bane;" thereby hinting that, if _Castaldo_ fail with
his steel medicine, she is ready with a surer potion.
The next scene, being the last, was ushered in with acclamations. The
stage, as is always in that case made and provided, was full. There is a
young gentleman on a throne, and _Czerina_ beside it, having been somehow
ungallantly deposed. _Martinuzzi_ expresses a wish to drink somebody's
health, and this being the "fitting opportunity" mentioned by the author
in the scene preceeding, _Isabella_ empties the phial of her wrath into
the beverage, and the _Cardinal_ quenches his thirst with a most
intemperate draught. It is now duly announced, that _Castaldo_ is, "with
naked sword, approaching." That gentleman appears, and makes a speech long
enough for any man who has had such plain warning of what is to
happen--even a cardinal encumbered with a spangled dressing-gown--to get a
mile out of his way. The speech quite ended, he goes to work, and with
"this from King Ferdinand," thrusts at _Martinuzzi_. _Czerina_, however,
throws herself, with great skill, on the point of the sword, and dies.
Another long harangue from _Castaldo_--which, as he is evidently
broken-winded from exertion, is pronounced in tiny snatches--and he dies
with a "ha!" for want--like many greater men--of breath.
Meanwhile, the poison makes _Martinuzzi_ exceedingly uncomfortable in the
stomachic regions. He is quite sure
"That hath been done to me which sends me _star_-ward!"
but in his progress thither he evidently loses his way; for he ends the
play by inquiring--
"WHERE IS THE WORLD?"
The sublimity of which query is manifestly insisted on by the author, by
his having it printed in capitals.
When the curtain fell, there arose an uproarious shout for the author; but
instead of "the mantle of the Elizabethan poets," which, it has been said,
he commonly wears, the most attractive garment that met the view was an
expansive white waistcoat. This latter exhibition concluded the
entertainments, strictly so called; for though a farce followed, it turned
out a terrible bore.
* * * * *