Punch (71.1876)

November 11, 1876.] PUNCH, OE THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 207

THE YOUNG MEDIUM'S CATECHISM.

hat is your Name?—
That is, like the
Spirits, immaterial.

Where do you come
from ?—America ge-
nerally.

Where do you
practise ?—In Europe
especially.

What are your
Properties ? — A Ta-
ble, a Chair, and two
pair of Hands.

What do you most
confide in ? — Cheek,
Chatter, and Chance.

What are your three great Powers ?
—The Conjuror, the Carpenter, and
the Confederate.

What are your Spirits' names?—
Aplomb, Aptitude, and Adroitness.

How revealed?—In Taps, Raps,
and Slaps.

Where do the Spirits hatch their
plots ?—In a Mare's Nest.

What are your best, support ? —
The lies of Fools and the folly of
Liars.

Who are your best Supporters ?
—One-sided Scientists, no-sided
Religionists, and lop - sided Old
Women.

What Senses do you trust to ?—
A smooth Tongue, a quick Eye, and
a sharp Ear.

What Limbs ?—A small Hand and
a supple Leg.
Where do you expect to go to ?
—That depends on circumstances, which, not being Spirits, are
beyond my own control.
In Adversity ?—To Gaol.
In Prosperity ?—To St. Petersburg!!.

OUR REPRESENTATIVE MAN.

A Visit to the Prince of Wales's, ivith a Short Disquisition on
French and English Audiences, and a few words on the present
Peril.

orb,—Peril, at.the Prince of AVales's, has long since been suffi-
ciently discussed by,competent critics, and has undoubtedly made a
considerable impression on what is called the " play-going public."
Your Representative's esteemed, but somewhat harum-scarum
friend, Peggel Bet, being in an undecided state of mind as to
whether he shall return to Constantinople or not—an Eastern ques-
tion which will be decided for him affirmatively or negatively by a
peaceful or warlike solution—(and if there is peace I may sing of my
Oriental chum, " He will return, I know him well "—while if there
is war he will stay where he is at his house in Tyburnia, and
become the Bulbul of Bayswater)—my friend, I say, being in this
feverish condition, is no companion for Your Representative, on an
occasion when a cool head, calm judicial acumen, and a mind free
from bias or prejudice, are in requisition, as they are when anyone
interested in the well-being of the Drama visits the Prince of
Wales's Theatre, to witness the performance of any piece produced
under the management of Me. and Mrs. Bancroft. By this time
every one knows that Peril is " adapted for the English stage from
M. Yictoeien Saedotj's JVos Intones"—I quote the Playbill—but,
as the qualification "for the English stage" implies so much, I
would prefer to consider the Play on its own merits as a production
of the

" Eowe, Brothers, Kowe,"

written under a censorship far stricter than that of the official
Licenser of Plays. "Adapted for the English stage," is, in effect,
an apology for the adaptation; for when so "strong" a piece as
Nos _ Intimes is submitted to the process of adaptation, it must be
considerably weakened before it can be considered as food fit for
such babes as an English audience is supposed, by competent
authorities, to be ; that is, as compared with a French audience.

There is, I admit, a vast difference between an English and French
audience witnessing the same play. An English audience—as it
appears to me—looks on at the action of a play as at realities, while

a French audience regards it as representing probabilities—or, as
Puff says in The Critic, "Things just so strange that, though they
never did, they might happen "—which, if seasoned with sufficient
wit by the Author, and artistically rendered by the Actors, are
quite good enough for them pour passer le temps. As to anyone in
a French audience being either better or worse for assisting at far
"stronger" plays, I don't believe it for a moment. Are we,
pharisaically, to hold up our hands in horror, and thank Heaven that
an English audience is not as a French audience, because the latter
only consider as an artistic question what we will insist upon con-
fusing with one of morality ? Am I a poisoner, or an intriguer,
a plotter, and a man of mystery, because I prefer beguiling my
leisure with the works of Me. Wileie Collins and M. Gabobiae to
those of De. Cemming ? No; if highly flavoured bisque is too strong
for English stomachs, don't water it, and make it into a compara-
tively tasteless mess, but simply ignore it altogether,—have nothing
to do with it. I confess, for my part, I am for giving the English
dramatist a range as unlimited as is possessed by his French
confrere, because I feel sure that he would use, and not abuse, such
liberty.

Peril, however, has not been " freely adapted," it has been "drawn
mild." The "peril" is very slight; I was scarcely "rippled" by it.
I did not see that Mes. Kendal was at any moment in great danger
from the advances of that audacious little Don Juan, Me. Segden.
In fact, the perilous situation was on the whole, just the one on
which the success of the piece seemed least of all to depend.

But, on the other hand, how admirably the piece has been put on
the Stage! Fortunate is the Author of a Comedy who can find it
produced with such attention to even the very slightest detail.

That the Management is to be congratulated on the cast, one
glance at the playbill is sufficient to show. Given the Piece as it
is, and the acting is, on the whole, excellent all round. But I cannot
help asking what is the character Mes. Kendal is expected to
portray! Does Lady Ormond love her husband ? Yes or no ? If the
First Act means anything—no, decidedly. Does she love Charley
Bradford ? Well—I should say no. But she is supposed to like him
considerably, or else, at all events, she wouldn't go such lengths of
flirting—or more than flirting—with him. Yet, after all these
glances, and sighings, and hand-pressings, when the natural conse-
quence follows, and he declares his love, is she "only pretending"
when she refuses to understand him ? This Scene is to me inexpli-
cable. Or are we supposed to be witnessing the result of the growth
of a gradually overpowering, mastering passion, carrying them both
onward with such irresistible force, that, to quote Mr. 3Iildmay in
Still Waters, "A Welsh river after a flood is a fool to it"? No.
Does she herself give the explanation of the whole difficulty when,
pressing her hands to her forehead, she exclaims that " she doesn't
know what to'think, and wishes she could stop thinking " ? Is she
a mild sort of Frou Frou f The character seems to me, as somebody
says in Hard Times, "All a muddle," and Mes. Kendal herself
does not appear to be quite satisfied as to " what they (the adapters)
meant by it."

The others of the dramatis personce are all distinct characters.
Me. Banceoft is, down to the ground, the middle-aged English
Baronet, honourable and loyal, preferring country to town life,
thoroughly hearty and consistently phlegmatic. The only fault I c ould
find with Dr. Thorn ton (Me. Kendal) was that he seemed to me to be
a trifle too old for the lover of so young a girl as Lucy Ormond (Miss
Becestone). The Crossley Becks (Me. Kemble and Mes. Leigh
Mueeay) are—granting the hypothesis that such people would have
been Sir George Ormond''s guests—undeniably well played. The boy
Percy (" Me."—it surely should be " Mastee "—W. Yoenge—and
he looks what his name implies) is the best boy I've seen for some
time, quite " a model boy." To omit "Kemp, the Butler," would
be an injustice to Me. Gloves—and to the Management. The Chief
Butler in Phaeaoh's household couldn't have been more perfect—
and he must have had a very good character from his last place.
(By the way, which was hung, the Butler or the Baker ?—however,
it is of no importance noiv.) And last, but far from least, is the Sir
Woodbine Grafton of Me. Abthee Cecil, which is in nearly all
respects admirable. But if there is one touch of nature in his per-
formance more than another which makes the whole audience kin,
it is his " business" (to speak technically) in the commencement of
the Second Act,—so characteristic of an utterly selfish man in a
country house, when he has a chance of 'disappearing with the
morning newspapers. If it is a very little overdone, if it has just a
touch of the Palais Royal hand in it, it must be remembered that
some exaggeration is absolutely necessary on the stage, and it really
is not until Sir Woodbine has surreptitiously collared his fourth or
fifth newspaper that the audience begin to enjoy the humour of the
scene.

There are. few theatres where so enjoyable an evening can be
passed as at the Prince of Wales's. The piece is mis-named Peril,
it should have been The Hare and Many Friends—but perhaps
there were professional reasons against this. Yet surely if this were
so, then for the Rowe Beothees to make Me. Banceoft at the end