Punch: Punch (87.1884)

28

PUNCH, OP THE LONDON CHAP1VAPL

[July 19, 1884.

LETTERS TO SOME PEOPLE

[About Other Peoples Business. “ Twelfth Night ” at the Lyceum.)

My leak Claudian Wilson Chatterton Barrett, take my
advice, stick to your Lights of London, and such like, nay, if you
are so bent on it, try your hand at Hamlet,—a play which Shae-
speare, whose inspiration was not for an age but for all time, must
have written with you in his prophetic eye, when he penned the
description of the Prince of Denmark, as “the glass of fashion and
the mould of form,” and when he wrote for him those long soliloquies,
including the famous instructions to the Players, over which the
great Actor-Dramatist must have chuckled heartily,—appear, if you
will, as Hamlet, I say, but don’t let any Pattering clique gammon
you into playing Malvolio. Leave this to Henry Irving—and I don’t
think it will be of much use to him in America, except for an occa-
sional Benefit.

First, as to the Play. When I was about fifteen I saw it per-
formed on the Stage which you now tread with so much classic
grace, and was so impressed by the comic portion of it as given by
Kelley as Sir Andrew, the prototype of Boh Acres, and Mrs. Kerley
'as Maria. — the two inimitables ! — with Addison as Sir Toby,
Alfred Wigan light, airy, and gay as the Fool, with snatches of
melody, for which he had a charming voice, and Meadows dry and
quaint as Malvolio,—that I have never forgotten it. How the real
humour of the play was brought out, and how its true fun was kept
; up ! Every line told. Malvolio seemed to be fair game for the Low
! Comedians, but even then the scene with Sir Topas was a dull one.

But now, at the Lyceum, my dear Clvcdian, all this is changed ;
the funny quartette are weak, and more or less bores. The Sir
1 Andrew Aguecheek, as rexmesented. by Mr. Wyatt, is simjTp Master


Twelfth Night Characters on the Lyceum Cake.

Slender out of place. He may have been selected for this part,
because, once in the puece, Sir Andrew has to cut capers, and Mr.
Wyatt’s Girard-like legs, and Gaiety antecedents, naturally suggest
certain caper-bilities, which, however, were not of much use when he
had a sudden attack of “ the jumps.” Mr. David Fisher was fussily
drunk as Sir Toby, and his reading of the part was sufficiently un-
intelligible to satisfy all the requirements of inebriation. Miss Payne
began her Maria as a sort of comedy lady, but a light dawned on her
in the later scenes, and by introducing a little of the First Chamber-
maid element, she improved the performance. I p^itied Mr. Calhaem
as that stuxiendous nuisance “ The Shakespearian Clown! ”
Wouldn’t you, my dear Claudian, have chosen for the part some one
who could sing ? Of course. But, in truth, all the comic characters
suffered from the importance given to Malvolio. With this x>eculiar
reading of Malvolio (which, 1 am afraid, will strongly recommend
itself to you), the fun of these comic xiersonages vanishes, and, but
for the duel with Ccesario,—which could have been just as well
managed without them,—they are of no assistance to the plot, such
as it is.

And here, my dear Wilson Barrett, let me boldly say that, if
this Comedy had been the work of any modern playright, say your
Mr. Jones^ for example, you would pirobably have refused it, as,
though well-written in parts, and containing some lovely lines, it is
ill-constructed and deficient in interest. Left to itself,'it is not a
model. But had you seen this imaginary Jones’s Twelfth Night
produced for the first time at the Lyceum with all that Henry
Irving and Ellen Terry, assisted by scene-painters and costumiers,
could do for it, you would have granted the excellence of the per-
tormance of the leading Actors, and have wondered how any judicious

Manager could possibly have selected such a piece. You wouldn’t
have had such dull comic stuff, not even with Brother George
Barrett to enliven it. Oh dear no ! Not on any account. Perhaps
had one of your talented Authors brought it to vou, you might have

A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Ghost of Shakspcare. Will you play Malvolio in A-merry-key ?

ordered Malvolio to be cut down, and the Duke written up for your-
self, with a few metaphysical soliloquies chucked in. and perhaps a
death-scene at the end, when, in a fit of disappointed love and morbid
jealousy, he might stab himself with his own dagger. Of course you
would have him at once tended by Viola, who should declare her
extraordinary passion for this second-class Illyrian potentate, and the
wound not proving mortal, all might end happily.

The only chance for this play is for the comic personages to he
played by the most popular low comedians, at whom the Public are I
prepared to laugh directly they appear. Now. as Manager Toole
could not be obtained, Paulton as Sir Andreiv, W. Hill as Sir Toby.
and Mrs. Bancroft as-Maria, might have made it what it ought to
have been. “ But that’s all one, the Play is done ; ” and so now I
must tell you what you are dying to know—something about Malvolio
and Viola.

Place aux Dames! Miss Ellen Terry is simply charming as
Viola, and in a few nights—he., by the time this letter to you sees
the light—she will have got over her first nervousness, and will play
that first scene less seriously, remembering that ’tis all a Twelfth
Night Masque, nothing more, and that the dramatist never meant us
to examine too curiously into the motives of action in this Comedy.
Not that the apology would save the unfortunate Jones from
severe condemnation had he written such a play nowadays. The
spice of burlesque strut, which I have seen the other Ellen, over
the way, Miss Nellie Farren, do to perfection as a Masher Prince
(with a song of the “ I’m all there ! ” kind), and which Miss Ellen
I Terry threw into her best scene, when, on arriving at the fact that
| Olivia is in love with her, she exclaims, “ I am the man ! ” was one
1 of the few big hits of the evening. It took immediately and
immensely. Then her little bit of fun in the duel scene, when she
hits Sir Andreiv on the back and runs away, evoked from a highly-
cultivated first-night audience such a roar of laughter, as showed
that, with all its taste for Art (with a capital A), they were ready
to gratefully recognise and thoroughly appreciate the introduction
of an ancient xjiece of comic business wuth which all playgoers have
been familiar since they saw their first pantomime.

But, you will say, impatiently, how about Henry Irving’s Mal-
volio ? Well now. my dear Wilson Barrett, do you honestly think
it a good part ? No, you don’t;—and you ’re right.

Good enough in its proper place in the piece, no doubt, hut when,
emphasised, developed, and elevated by an eminent tragedian hold-
ing such a position as does the Manager of the Lyceum, to a height
of tragic melodrama, then Malvolio is no longer the middle-aged,
conceited, puritanical donkey who is a fair butt for the malicious
waiting-maid, two stupid sots, and a professional Fool, but he
becomes at ouce a grave and reverend signior, a Grand Duchess’s
trusted Major Domo, faithfully discharging the duties of which he
has an exaggerated opinion, and the very last person to be the subject
of an idiotic practical joke, the stupidity of which is intensified by
its wanton cruelty. And in the end he gains the public sympathy
for his sufferings, just as Shylock does.

That you will think his performance admirable, I am sure ; so do
I, hut ci quoi bon ? Everyone will flock to see Irving as Malvolio,
and Ellen Terry as Viola, and to marvel at the wonderful likeness
of Master Territ, as Sebastian, to his sister. They will he repaid by
the acting of these three characters,—for Master Terry is really very
good, considering how difficult it must be for him to he brought into
comparison with his own sister,—and by the gorgeous mounting and
the mise-en-scene of the piece.

Poor Mr. Terriss as the Dummy Duke ! What a Duke! I saw