For a cool, calm, calculating villain, recommend me to Mr. Charles Cartwright, the very best of gentlemanly scoundrels of modern melodrama. He is admirable: but directly the honest, outspoken Adelphi audience nose his villainy he has a bad time of it, as no matter what he may say or do, no matter whether he speaks slowly or quickly, runs off, saunters off, lounges in or hurries in, he is at once met, and so to speak "countered," by a storm of fiercely indignant hisses. Surely an actor whose rôle is sheer villainy of the deepest dye must be able to command enormous terms, seeing what a long training it must require to arrive at taking cursing for compliments! An Adelphi audience personally hate and detest the stage villain, but for all that, they couldn't do without him, any more than can the melodramatic author or the Messrs. Gatti.
After the villain, who certainly holds the first place in popular unpopularity, comes the Heroic Boy, Charles Warner, all heartiness and simplicity, a very "bounding Achilles;" and next to him, the suffering heroine who defends herself with a revolver, who is finally charged with murder, and gallantly defended by the Heroic Boy, who, attired in wig, gown, and bands, appears in the last scene of all that ends this eventful his'tory as Counsel for the Defence, pleading for his wife before a full court, much less crowded than is the Old Bailey generally, and apparently far loftier, and much better ventilated. The case does not attract considerable public attention, as there is only a sparse attendance of nobodies in the gallery. Throughout the drama Mr. Gardiner and Miss Fanny Brough capitally represent the comic interest, which is brightly written, and "goes" uncommonly well.
The other scoundrel is only young in his villainy—a mere amateur as compared with Mr. Charles Cartwright, and were it not for the things he does and says, he might at any moment be taken for a comedian neither light nor eccentric, but a fairly all-round and superior sort of "Charles his friend," whose lines fall in pleasant places as feeders. Poor Junior Scoundrel! from the first he has no chance of appearing either gay or light-hearted, as he is invariably at the mercy of the Senior Rascal, and is finally shot by his own revolver which, after being used against him on several occasions, for the poor Junior Rascal never has a chance with it himself, falls into the hands of aforementioned Senior Rascal, and so he goes to his dramatic grave without having had one solitary opportunity of making a light and airy speech, or doing anything to bring down the house. He comes in for his share of the hissing, poor fellow! as does also Miss Alma Stanley, in the costume of a kind of Madame Mephistopheles—a female villain of the deepest scarlet and black dye. She, too, is one of the trio only created to be hooted at by an enthusiastically virtuous public. This monster of female depravity, however, is not a bad sort, and shows some signs of repentance—a repentance not too late, though it is deferred till 10.50, when it just comes in time to assist the plot and unite two loving hearts.
There is a clever child in the story; far and away the best child I remember to have seen, since the child in A Man's Shadow at the Haymarket, who also figured in a trial and gave evidence against a father (or mother, I forget which). There was another wise child who did much the same sort of thing and got its own father convicted in Proof, also at the Adelphi. As to the trial scene (which seems to lack Sullivan's setting of Gilbert's words), it seemed to me that Mr. Warner was counsel, witnesses, prosecutor, and defender, all in one, and, even considering the peculiar circumstances of the case, anyone, from a purely professional point of view, would be inclined to blame the presiding judge, Mr. Howard Russell, for such an exhibition of Job-like patience, and for his quite unexampled toleration of an advocate's irregularities. However, his summing up was a model of conciseness and brevity, as it took for granted the jury's perfect knowledge of facts and law, and its delivery occupied just about a couple of minutes. Had Mr. Warner been the judge, and Mr. Howard Russell the counsel, the above-mentioned allotment of time would, probably, have been reversed. The jury, an intelligent-looking set of men, utterly belied their appearance by acquitting the prisoner in face of the most damning circumstantial evidence. But as it was close on ten minutes past eleven, and as the author had provided no sensational incident to follow, and had given no Fifth Act to finish with, the decision of the Jury was much applauded by the crowded audience in the auditorium, which then began to clear out, highly satisfied with the excellent bill of fare provided for them by Messieurs Gatti, the worthy restaurateurs of the old Adelphi Drama.
An M. P-erruquier.—M. Chauvin, the theatrical perruquier, the Clarkson of the Théâtre Français, has been recently elected Deputy for St. Denis. He will not neglect his business, but will get up all the heads of his parliamentary discourses in the afternoon, and be ready to "get up" the heads of the house of Molière in the evening. To those who oppose him in political matters he is prepared, without any hair-splitting, to give a regular good wigging all round. Should "our Mr. Clarkson" stand for some constituency and be elected, he would of course appear in the House as the representative of the old Whigs.
His Two Religions.—Though "Mr. G." is a sound Church-of-England man, yet has he recently shown himself an uncommonly strict Muzzle-man.