LONDON DRAMATIC LETTER.

Lyttelton Times, Volume XCVII, Issue 11226, 25 March 1897, Page 2

LONDON DRAMATIC LETTER.

[Correspondent “ Canterbury Times.”] LONDON, Jan. 23. The Sorrows of Satan, a four-act play adapted by Mr Herbert Woodgate and Mr Paul Bertiion from Marie Corelli’s muchdiscussed novel of that name, was produced on Saturday night at the unlucky Shaftesbury Theatre. How the piece will fare at thehands of the general public I should not like to say, but the first-nigld audience received it with rapture, the critics next morning were not unfavourable, ancl, for myself,' I may say I thought it a curiosity in plays—interesting, sometimes absorbing, and certainly worth seeing. In thehands of a more capable company, indeed, the play might have won the style and title “ great,” but in the Shaftesbury company only Lewis Waller triumphed entirely over tho difficulties of his part. He is an admirable Satan right through the piece. He makes his first appearance on the stage as Prince Lucio Rimanez, who takes in hand Geoffrey Tempest, an unappreciated literary genius, up to his ears in debt to the landlady in whose house we discover him when the curtain rises, and makes him a quintuple millionaire. But it will he easiest to the story of the play in acts, and here goes :

Act I.—Scene 1; Lodgings in Bloomsbury. Comic landladv of the usual stage variety holding forth in the usual stage manner of her class. EntoGeoffrey Tempest, autaor. His financial condition is shown in hfs clothes and in the fact that he is contemplating felo de se. Before making himself a case for tho coroner, however, Geoff, decides to open his letters. One is an introduction to a inys’evions stranger, and wh-lst Tempest is assimilating the contents thereof the noise of a carnage is heard wrliout. Tim lamp suddenly goes out, and in walks the Devil in dress clothes. He introduces himself as Prince Lucio Kimanez, and Tempest clasps his hand to the accompaniment of thunder and lightning without. Geoff, then opens another letter, and discovers that by the death of an unsuspected relative he has come into a fortune of some five millions. Another knock at the door. The Devil hides in the curtains as enter IGrabbis, the publisher of a- sweet young authoress with tow-colom-ed hair. This is Mavis Clare. She is aggressively virtuous, which does not prevent her, although a perfect stranger, from grasping Geoffrey’s two hands in hers about six times and condoling with him for being so rich.

Scene 2 : The millionaire’s reception room at the Grand Hotel the same evening. Geoffrey receives visit from a pair of comic lawyers. Changes coat, and is introduced by the Devil to bald-headed but vicious Earl, who brings his 2000-guinea boarder, Diana Chesney, daughter of an American railway boss, hunting round for a coronet. To him also is introduced the beautiful Lady Sybil, daughter of the Earl, a contaminated creature trained to perfection in the lax morals and loathy literature of the day. She, being for sale -n the marriage market, gives him a flower, and they go to supper. Then comes a party of brainless sprigs of the aristocracy to play cards. Tho, Devil’s valet, Amiel, a journeyman devil himself, acts asm aitre d’hotel. They gamble, and Vicount Lynton, an impossible little “bounder,” gets “ cleaned out.” Geoffrey then wins of him a few more thousands, and the Devil inilu'-es Lynton to stake his soul. He tries a final coup and loses, swallows a “long drink,” and blows his brains out somewhere in the wings. The devil moralises upon the wickedness of society, and the curtain falls to thunders of applause. Act ll.—Scene : The grounds of the millionaire’s country-house, en fete. Lords, ladies and a considerable domestic retinue. Mavis Clave and the Devil, after a little exercise iu temptation, agree that they will never meet again in this world. Geoffrey strikes his matrimonial bargain with the Lady Sybil, but allows the Devil the best man’s privilege of the first kiss.

Act lll.—Twelve months later. The end of tho millionaire’s honeymoon. The Yankee boarder has hooked the Earl and driven him to drink. Lady Sybil, having been rebuked by her bridegroom for reading naughty books, tells him plainly that she hates him, and that she is what is vulgarly called “ a bad lot.’’ Bedtime comes, and the Devil in the dimly-lighted hall plays tho organ. To him enters the Lady Sybil in her robe de nuit, with her bright red hair hanging down her back. The organ ceases. She throws all shame to tho winds and hurls herself and her wanton love upon the unprotected Devil. But he is “ not talcing any,” and, standing up iu his righteous wrath, rebukes sin and Sybil. Geoffrey has been an unsuspected spec la tor of the terrible scene. Whilst the naughty lady retires to her chamber to take a dose of lingering poison, he and the Devil chat tho matter over quietly, and he accepts the invitation of Satan for a little cruise to the end of the world. Then the Lady Sybil returns for another attack upon the Devil’s virtue, and in her death throes knows him for what he really is. Act IY.—On board the Devil’s yacht on the boundary of nowhere in particular. Geoffrey awakes from a horrible dream, and finds himself a prisoner, with Amiel for his warder. The Devil proclaims himself his friend’s enemy, and throws off all disguise. The winds howl, and the air is filled with a devilish chorus as the yacht, with Amiel at the helm, dashes among the icebergs. There is a crash as Geoffrey elects to be punished by God rather than saved by the Devil. By that election he does the Devil a good turn, for, according to the rules of the game, for every soul that rejects him Lucifer is granted one hour iu heaven. As Geoffrey, iu the thinnest of shirts, floats away on a friendly iceberg, tho Devil is seen at the back making for “ the carmine glories of his brief respite from sorrow,” as one critic nobly puts it.

And so the play ended, amid tumultuous applause. There was no doubt of two things : First, that The Sorrows of Satan was a striking- play, and that the work found favour with the audience, who applauded the big situations rapturously, “took on” tho points in the dialogue

readily, and called the leading artists at tho close of each act again and again. And besides being a, playmakers’and a producers’ success, it proved a triumph lor Mr Lewis Weller, who as Prince Lucio Rimanez not only satisfied every requirement made by tho character—such, for instance, as looking an uncommon personage, with a suggestion of diablerie in facial expression, pose, and gesture — but, qua acting, reached a high standard of histrionic excellence.

On Friday afternoon the patrons of the Prince of Wales’s Theatre were introduced to the latest Parisian success, a throe-act play without words, entitled, lor English purposes, A Pierrot’s Life. Few people who saw Mdlle. Jane May’s fascinating performance in L’Enfant Prodiyuc can imagine a more perfect artist in pantomime, hut in the Px-ince of Wales’s play there is in my opinion an actor even move skilled than Mdlle. May. This is Signor Egidio Rossi, of Milan, who in A Pierrot’s Life scores all the honours as Pochinet, the tavern-keeper. On tho strength of his work alone the piece should run. It is a performance which will live in the memories of all who see it. Apart from Pochinet, the new piece is a worthy successor to L’Enfant Prodigue, though the music of M. Mario Costa has not the distinction of M. Wormser’s in that well-remembered play. Of the story it is not necessary to say much. By the exigencies of his being, Pierrot is a scamp, a harum-scarum, light-hearted, ungrateful, young vagabond. Therefore we love him, and are sorry when his sins bring down upon his head a punishment which we ought to say he richly deserved. Here we have a timid youth, desperately loving his little milliner, Louisette, but not daring to say so until taught by Pochinet, tho rugged kin dly old wine merchant with a model foxillustration. It is the strongest piece of comedy in the piece. We know that Pierrot will win his suite, iu spite of the seductions of Julot, a French bounder wjiose clothes would startle a blind man. But unrelieved happiness proves too much for Pierrot, and ho soon tires of his pretty little wife and longs for freedom and excitement, just as a new interest is about to enter the family circle. The story of temptation is soon told. Julot reappears and lures him to cards and dishonour, and with the disappearance of Pierrot in tho company of a “ brazen baggage ” 'from a factory, attempts Madame’s honour. He is foiled by the timely interference of Pochinet. The third act is the occasion of the retribution, the return of a disconsolate, ragged, sick and sorry prodigal, whose very mandoline deserts him in the hour of deepest adversity. He has chanced upon the wine shop of his old friend, and in the child who trots across the road to give the poor starving vagrant a cake ho recognises his own child. Soon Pochinet comes out, and before recognising him bids him begone, but on the recognition comes a bit of magnificent acting. Pochinet, in the friendliest way in the world, gives his dejected young friend a bit of his mind. In a few brief, eloquent gestures he re-, capitulates the incidents of the preceding act—the cards, the cheating by Julot, Pierrot’s robbery of the unborn child’s money box, the flight of Pierrot, and the defeat of Julot’s base design are alj given in the most wonderful manner. So far it is the amazing cleverness of the pantomime alone which takes one’s breath away, but it is crowned by a passage of exquisite pathos. Turning to the cage of doves, the old man illustrates the glad flight of a freed dove, its vigorous course under the influence of its newly found liberty, and then there is a sudden change ; his whole figure droops, the radiant features become sombre and haggard, as the wearied creature limps sadly totbe cage and, with feeble tapping at the wickerwork, begs for admission. The idea of a man playing a dove in this fashiongnay seem absurd, but I have seen it done, and am nob ashamed to own that it brought tears to my eyes. Of course, happiness comes to the repentant Pierrot in tlic end, but not before he has had a lesson which should last a lifetime. Mdlle. Litine, iu this r6le, is admirably expressive, but her performance is dwarfed by that of Signor Rossi, over whom, unless my taste and judgment are wofully at fault, all London will soon be raving. Hilda Spong- does not cry for the moon, but both she and Mrs Spong would dearly like to see rather more of the sun. Our climate is, indeed, the one serious drawback to the brilliant success of the young Australian actress in London. Under the supervision of Sir Richard Qnain, Miss Spong has recovered from the nervous prostration which followed her illness at the close of tho Drury Lane autumn season, but she catches cold after cold, aud cannot get rid of them unless she confines herself strictly within doors. At present, too, Miss Spong is very hard worked. Nine performances a week are given of Two Little Vagabonds, and the business is increasing,so that there seems small prospect of the discontinuance of matinees. Miss Spong begged to be let off the Monday morning show at least, hut the audience expressed such discontent when they found an understudy playing Mrs Thornton, that the management recalled their permission. On matinee days Miss Spong leaves home at one and does not get back till half-past eleven at night. The morning performance seldom ends before a quarter to six, so that the actress has only time to snatch a hurried meal in her dressing-room before it is necessary to make up again. According to present appearances, Two Little Vagabonds will he going strong this time next year, and Miss Spong rather rashly signed for the run of the piece.

At the 150th performance of the melodrama on Saturday week a souvenir, consisting of portraits of Miss Spong and les deux gasses in their great scenes, will be given away. Alfred Ellis has taken a number of photos of the fair Australian as Mrs Thornton, hut none of them do her justice. I hear, by the way, that Miss Ada Perrar, who will play the part during the Australian tour, visited the Princess’s before sailing to pick up what wrinkles she could.

Mr Robert Buchanan, who was greatly struck by Miss Spong’s performance in the Robespierre play at the Drury Lane wanted her to create the heroine of his new comedy A Wanderer from Venus, and she had also an offer of the lead in The Sorrows of Satan. But even had she been free neither of these proposals would have suited her.