Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 1, November 27, 1841 by Various
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Various >> Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 1, November 27, 1841
This nice adaptation of the dialogue to the various characters, therefore,
offers scope for good acting, and gets it. Mr. Farren, in _Sir Paladin
Scruple_, affords what tradition and social history assure us is a perfect
portraiture of an old gentleman of the last century;--more than that, of a
singular, peculiar old gentleman. And yet this excellent artist, in
portraying the peculiarities of the individual, still preserves the
general features of the class. The part itself is the most difficult in
nature to make tolerable on the stage, its leading characteristic being
wordiness. _Sir Paladin_, a gentleman (in the ultra strict sense of that
term) seventy years of age, is desirous of the character of _un homme de
bonnes fortunes_. Cold, precise, and pedantic, he tells the objects--not
of his flame--but of his declarations, that he is consumed with passion,
dying of despair, devoured with love--talking at the same time in
parenthetical apologies, nicely-balanced antitheses, and behaving himself
with the most frigid formality. His bow (that old-fashioned and elaborate
manual exercise called "making a leg") is in itself an epitome of the
manners and customs of the ancients.
Madame Vestris and Mr. C. Matthews played _Lady_ and _Lord Whiffle_--two
also exceedingly difficult characters, but by these performers most
delicately handled. They are a very young, inexperienced (almost
childish), and quarrelsome couple. Frivolity so extreme as they were
required to represent demands the utmost nicety of colouring to rescue it
from silliness and inanity. But the actors kept their portraits well up to
a pleasing standard, and made them both quite _spirituels_ (more
French--that _Morning Post_ will be the ruin of us), as well as in a high
degree natural.
All the rest of the players, being always and altogether actors, within
the most literal meaning of the word, were exactly the same in this comedy
as they are in any other. Mr. Diddear had in _Lord Dangerfield_ one of
those parts which is generally confided to gentlemen who deliver the
dialogue with one hand thrust into the bosom of the vest--the other
remaining at liberty, with which to saw the air, or to shake hands with a
friend. Mr. Harley played the part of Mr. Harley (called in the bills
_Humphrey Rumbush_) precisely in the same style as Mr. Harley ever did and
ever will, whatever dress he has worn or may wear. The rest of the people
we will not mention, not being anxious for a repetition of the unpleasant
fits of yawning which a too vivid recollection of their dulness might
re-produce. The only merit of "Court and City" being in the dialogue--the
only merit of that consisting of minute and subtle representations of
character, and these folks being utterly innocent of the smallest
perception of its meaning or intention--the draughts they drew upon the
patience of the audience were enormous, and but grudgingly met. But for
the acting of Farren and the managers, the whole thing would have been an
unendurable infliction. As it was, it afforded a capital illustration of
[Illustration: ATTRACTION AND REPULSION.]
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TEN THOUSAND A-YEAR!
The dramatic capabilities of "Ten Thousand a-Year," as manifested in the
vicissitudes that happen to the Yatton Borough (appropriately recorded by
Mr. Warren in _Blackwood's Magazine_), have been fairly put to the test by
a popular and _Peake_-ante play-wright. What a subject! With ten thousand
a-year a man may do anything. There is attraction in the very sound of the
words. It is well worth the penny one gives for a bill to con over those
rich, euphonious, delicious syllables--TEN THOUSAND A-YEAR! Why, the magic
letters express the concentrated essence of human felicity--the _summum
bonum_ of mortal bliss!
_Charles Aubrey_, of Yatton, in the county of York, Esquire, possesses ten
thousand a-year in landed property, a lovely sister in yellow satin, a
wife who can sing, and two charming children, who dance the mazourka as
well as they do it at Almack's, or at Mr. Baron Nathan's. As is generally
the case with gentlemen of large fortunes, he is the repository of all the
cardinal virtues, and of all the talents. Good husbands, good fathers,
good brothers, and idolised landlords, are plenty enough; but a man who,
like _Aubrey_, is all these put together, is indeed a scarce article; the
more so, as he is also a profound scholar, and an honest statesman. In
short, though pretty well versed in the paragons of virtue that belong to
the drama, we find this _Charles Aubrey_ to be the veriest angel that ever
wore black trousers and pumps.
The most exalted virtue of the stage is, in the long run, seen in good
circumstances, and _vice versa_; for, in this country, one of the chief
elements of crime is poverty. Hence the picture is reversed; we behold a
striking contrast--a scene antithetical. We are shown into a miserable
garret, and introduced to a vulgar, illiterate, cockneyfied, dirty,
dandified linendraper's shopman, in the person of _Tittlebat Titmouse_. In
the midst of his distresses his attention is directed to a "Next of Kin"
advertisement. It relates to him and to the Yatton property; and if you be
the least conversant with stage effect, you know what is coming: though
the author thinks he is leaving you in a state of agonising suspense by
closing the act.
The next scene is the robing-room of the York Court-house; and the
curtains at the back are afterwards drawn aside to disclose a large
cupboard, meant to represent an assize-court. On one shelf of it is seated
a supposititious Judge, surrounded by some half-dozen pseudo female
spectators; the bottom shelf being occupied by counsel, attorney, crier of
the court, and plaintiff. The special jury are severally called in to
occupy the right-hand shelf; and when the cupboard is quite full, all the
forms of returning a verdict are gone through. This is for the plaintiff!
Mr. Aubrey is ruined; and _Mr. Titmouse_ jumps about, at the imminent risk
of breaking the cupboard to pieces, having already knocked down a counsel
or two, and rolled over his own attorney.
This idea of dramatising proceedings at _nisi prius_ only shows the state
of destitution into which the promoters of stage excitement have fallen.
The Baileys, Old and New, have, from constant use, lost their charms; the
police officers were completely worn out by Tom and Jerry, Oliver Twist,
&c.; so that now, all the courts left to be "done" for the drama are the
Exchequer and Ecclesiastical, Secondaries and Summonsing, Petty Sessions
and Prerogative. But what is to happen when these are exhausted? The
answer is obvious:--Mr. Yates will turn his attention to the Church!
Depend upon it, we shall soon have the potent Paul Bedford, or the grave
and reverend Mr. John Saunders, in solemn sables, _converting_ the stage
into a Baptist meeting, and repentant supernumeraries with the real water!
Hoping to be forgiven for this, perhaps misplaced, levity, we proceed to
Act III., in which we find that, fortune having shuffled the cards, and
the judge and jury cut them, _Mr. Titmouse_ turns up possessor of Yatton
and ten thousand a-year; while _Aubrey_, quite at the bottom of the pack,
is in a state of destitution. To show the depth of distress into which he
has fallen, a happy expedient is hit upon: he is described as turning his
attention and attainments to literature; and that the unfathomable straits
he is put to may be fully understood, he is made a reviewer! Thus the
highest degree of sympathy is excited towards him; for everybody knows
that no person would willingly resort to criticism (literary or dramatic)
as a means of livelihood, if he could command a broom and a crossing to
earn a penny by, or while there exists a Mendicity Society to get soup
from.
We have yet to mention one character; and considering that he is the
main-spring of the whole matter, we cannot put it off any longer. _Mr.
Gammon_ is a lawyer--that is quite enough; we need not say more. You all
know that stage solicitors are more outrageous villains than even their
originals. _Mr. Gammon_ is, of course, a "fine speciment of the specious,"
as Mr. Hood's Mr. Higgings says. It is he who, finding out a flaw in
_Aubrey's_ title, angled per advertisement for the heir, and caught a
_Tittlebat--Titmouse_. It is he who has so disinterestedly made that
gentleman's fortune.--"Only just merely for the sake of the costs?" one
naturally asks. Oh no; there is a stronger reason (with which, however,
reason has nothing to do)--love! _Mr. Gammon_ became desperately enamoured
of _Miss Aubrey_; but she was silly enough to prefer the heir to a
peerage, _Mr. Delamere. Mr. Gammon_ never forgave her, and so ruins her
brother.
Having brought the whole family to a state in which he supposes they will
refuse nothing, _Gammon_ visits _Miss Aubrey_, and, in the most handsome
manner, offers her--notwithstanding the disparity in their
circumstances--his hand, heart, and fortune. More than that, he promises
to restore the estate of Yatton to its late possessor. To his astonishment
the lady rejects him; and, he showing what the bills call the "cloven
foot," _Miss Aubrey_ orders him to be shown out. Meantime, _Mr. Tittlebat
Titmouse_, having been returned M.P. for Yatton, has made a great noise in
house, not by his oratorical powers, but by his proficient imitations of
cock-crowing and donkey-braying.
This being Act IV., it is quite clear that _Gammon's_ villany and
_Tittlebat's_ prosperity cannot last much longer. Both are ended in an
original manner. True to the principle with which the Adelphi commenced
its season--that of putting stage villany into comedy--Mr. Gammon
concludes the _facetiae_ with which his part abounds by a comic suicide!
All the details of this revolting operation are gone through amidst the
most ponderous levity; insomuch, that the audience had virtue enough to
hiss most lustily[3].
[3] While this page was passing through the press, we witnessed a
representation of "Ten Thousand a-Year" a second time, and
observed that the offensiveness of this scene was considerably
abated. Mr. Lyon deserves a word of praise for his acting in
that passage of the piece as it now stands.
Thus the string of rascality by which the piece is held together being
cut, it naturally finishes by the reinstatement of Aubrey--together with a
view of Yatton in sunshine, a procession of charity children, mutual
embraces by all the characters, and a song by Mrs. Grattan. What becomes
of _Titmouse_ is not known, and did not seem to be much cared about.
This piece is interesting, not because it is cleverly constructed (for it
is not), nor because _Mr. Titmouse_ dyes his hair green with a barber's
nostrum, nor on account of the cupboard court of _Nisi Prius_, nor of the
charity children, nor because Mr. Wieland, instead of playing the devil
himself, played _Mr. Snap_, one of his limbs--but because many of the
scenes are well-drawn pictures of life. The children's ball in the first
"epoch," for instance, was altogether excellently managed and _true_; and
though many of the characters are overcharged, yet we have seen people
like them in Chancery-lane, at Messrs. Swan and Edgar's, in country
houses, and elsewhere. The suicide incident is, however, a disgusting
drawback.
The acting was also good, but too extravagantly so. Mr. Wright, as
_Titmouse_, thought perhaps that a Cockney dandy could not be caricatured,
and he consequently went desperate lengths, but threw in here and there a
touch of nature. Mr. Lyon was as energetic as ever in _Gammon_; Mrs. Yates
as lugubrious as is her wont in _Miss Aubrey_; Mrs. Grattan acted and
looked as if she were quite deserving of a man with ten thousand a year.
As to her singing, if her husband were in possession of twenty thousand
per annum, (would to the gods he were!) it could not have been more
charmingly tasteful. The pathetics of Wilkinson (as _Quirk_) in the
suicide scene, and just before the event, deserve the attention and
imitation of Macready. We hope the former comedian's next character will
be Ion, or, at least, Othello. He has now proved that smaller parts are
beneath his purely histrionic talents.
Mr. Yates did not make a speech! This extraordinary omission set the house
in a buzz of conjectural wonderment till "The Maid of Honour" put a stop
to it.
NOTE.--A critique on this piece would have appeared last week, if it had
pleased some of the people at the post-office (through which the MS. was
sent to the Editors) not to steal it. Perhaps they took it for something
valuable; and, perhaps, they were not mistaken. Thanks be to Mercury, we
have plenty of wit to spare, and can afford some of it to be stolen now
and then. Still we entreat Colonel Maberly (Editor of the "Post" in St.
Martin's-le-Grand) to supply his clerks with jokes enough to keep them
alive, that they may not be driven to steal other people's. The most
effectual way to preserve them in a state of jocular honesty would be for
him to present every person on the establishment with a copy of "Punch"
from week to week.
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