"FACTA NON VERBA"; OR, PIERROT IN LONDON.
"Of the best! of the very best!" as ZERO or CIRO is perpetually affirming of everything eatable and drinkable that is for his own benefit and his customers' refreshment at the little bar, not a hundred miles from the Monte Carlo tables, where he himself and his barristers practise day and night; and, as this famous cutter of sandwiches and confectioner of drinks says of his stock in trade, so say we of L'Enfant Prodigue, which, having been translated by HORATIUS COCLES SEDGER from Paris to London, has gone straight to the heart and intelligence of our Theatre-loving public.
It is a subject for curious reflection that, just when the comic scenes of our English Pantomime have been crushed out by overpowering weight of gorgeous spectacle, there should re-appear in our midst a revival of the ancient Pierrot who pantomimed himself into public favour with the Parisians towards the close of the seventeenth century. Red-hot poker, sausages, and filching Clown have had their day, and lo! when everyone said we were tired of the "comic business" of Pantomime, here in our midst re-appear almost in their habits as they lived, certainly with their white faces and black skull-caps "as they appeared," a pair of marvellously clever Pierrots. Mlle. JANE MAY as Pierrot Junior, "the Prodigy son," and M. COURTÈS as Pierrot Senior, are already drawing the town to Matinées at the Prince of Wales's, causing us to laugh at them and with them in their joys, and to weep with them in their mimic sorrows. Yes! Pierrot redivivus!
Mind you, it is not a piece for children; make no mistake about that; they will only laugh at the antics, be ignorant of the story, and be untouched by its truth and pathos. All are good. We like the naughty blanchisseuse the least of the characters, and wish she had been plus petite que ça. But is it not in nature that the prodigal infant (veritable boy is Mlle. JANE MAY) should fall in love with a young woman some years his senior, and far beyond him in experience of the world? Why certainly. Then the Baron, played with great humour by M. LOUIS GOUGET, who wins the Mistress with his diamonds, and the inimitable Black Servant, M. JEAN ARCUEIL, who laughs at poor little Pierrot, and cringes to his wealthy rival and successor,—are they not both admirable? As for the acting of Madame SCHMIDT as Madame Pierrot, loving wife and devoted mother, it is, as it should be, "too good for words." Her pantomimic action is so sympathetic throughout, so—well, in fact, perfect. Who wants to hear them speak? Facta non verba is their motto. Yet with what gusto the Black, heavily bribed, mouths out the titled Baron's name, though never a syllable does he utter! It is all most excellent make-believe.
Vive Pierrot à Londres! We see him much the same as he was when he delighted the Parisians in 1830,—"Avec sa grand casaque à gros boutons, son large pantalon flottant, ses souliers blancs comme le rests, son visage enfariné, sa tête couverte d'un serre-tête noir ... le véritable Pierrot avec sa bonhomie naïve ... ses joies d'enfant, et ses chagrins d'un effet si comique"—and also so pathetic.
If this entertainment could be given at night, the house would be crammed during a long run; but afternoon possibilities are limited. More than a word of praise must be given to M. ANDRÉ WORMSER's music, which, personally conducted by Mr. CROOK, goes hand in hand with the story written by MICHEL CARRÉ FILS, and illustrated by these clever pantomimists. No amateur of good acting should fail to see this performance. Verb. sap.
In the Salon this year, the Athenæum says, "a Grand Salon de Repos will be provided." For pictures of "still life" only, we suppose. Will Sir FREDERICK, P.R.A., act on the suggestion, and set aside one of the rooms in Burlington House as a Dormitory?