STORIES OF THE STAGE.

Otago Witness, Issue 1950, 4 April 1889, Page 32

STORIES OF THE STAGE.

AN UNINTENTIONAL HISSEB.

During the performance of the comedy of "Muddles" at the theatre in the Winter Gardens, Southport, it was noticed that no matter how hearty was the laughter, some one individual was persistently hissing. Mr F. W. Sidney, who was playing the part of Mr Paul Plowter in this amusing piece, sent his acting manager, Mr Kennedy Miller, to find out the person who was hissing, and request him to leave the theatre, offering to return him his admission money. Mr Miller soon discovered that the noise proceeded from an old gentleman, who appeared to be highly delighted with the comedy ; and after the second act Mr Miller induced him to come out into the hall, where the gentleman explained that he had greatly enjoyed the piece, but having undergone an operation in his throat, in the course of which a silver tube had been introduced into his windpipe, 'every time he laughed heartily a sibilant sound was the result of his cachinnation. THE " DEAMA OF THE DEAD." The Eoman newspapers protested last year, not without cause, against the extraordinary revival of the so-called "Drama of the Dead," which was celebrated last year upon the Campo Santo, on All-Souls' Day. This horrible custom, more honoured in the breach than the observance, had been discontinued for 15 years— that i 3 to say, ever since the nationalisation of the capital of Italy. Some pious persons, however, seem to have thought that it would be a pious deed to " restore" this hideous spectacle, and it was carried out with considerable expense of money, labour, and perverted ingenuity. Skulls, bones, and entire skeletons were collected from rifled graves, and a piece called " The Vision of Ezekiel in the Valley of Dry Bones" was exhibited to the faithful and the scornful. The real impiety of this odd union of Religion and Stage was made the more manifest by the loudly-expressed snspicion of some naturally indignant persons that the remains of their kinsfolk had been employed, among others, for the hideous theatrical representation. Whether their suspicions were or were not well founded it seems impossible to decide. But such an abuse and insult, both of the departed and the living, is quite practicable with Italian burial customs. HELEN FAUCIT. Miss Helen Faucit, the daughter of a Margate manager, made her first appearance in London as Julia in " The Hunchback." Her triumph on this occasion was followed by her success as Oleanthe, in Serjeant Talfourd's " Ion." After Mr Hammond's bankruptcy, Mr Macready, in 1841, became lessee of Drury Lane, and Miss Helen Faucit leadiag lady. She played in Mr Browning's undramatic poem, "The ßlot in the Scutcheon," and as Mabel in Mr Westland Marsfcon's "Patrician's Daughter," a very high-toned and admirable play. The critics of that period praised the young actress for following nature, and carrying the spectators with her, whether she was gay or grave, artless or sublime. They said her form was graceful, and that her eyes had a "beaming softness." They liked her best in tender and pathetic scenes, but in Constance considered her artificial, and too evidently a disciple of Macready. In 1864 the accomplished lady reappeared at Drury Lane as Lady Macbet b, Kosalind, and Imogen. It was then thought by Mr Henry Morley and other leading critics that her voice failed when trying to express very violent emotion. She was delightful, however, as the tender, devoted Imogen, though not physically strong enough for Lady Macbeth. If Miss Faucit had not left the stage when she married Sir Theodore Martin, she would have become, not the most powerful and majestic of English actresses, certainly the most graceful and refined. As that most beautiful of Shakespearian 1 women, Imogen, Miss Faucit has never been surpassed in this or perhaps any other country. A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. When Heinrich Lambe was manager at the Stadt Theatre in Vienna, a low comedian once applied to him for . an engagement, and introduced himself as follows :—" My name is Warr." " War, eh ? " exclaimed Lambe in his abrupt [manner; "how old?" "Thirty years ." " Ah ! lam glad to make the acquaintance of the Thirty Years' War 1 " "GOOD NIGHT, SWEET PEINCE." When Macready, the great tragedian, had played Hamlet for the last time, and was removing his velvet mantle, he muttered to himself Horatio's words, " Good-night, sweet Prinoe," and then, turning to a friend, said, " Ah I was just beginning to realise thesweetness, the tenderness, the gentleness, of this dear Hamlet." AN UNEEHEARSED EFFECT. The theatre was a suburban one near London, and the play was " Romeo and Juliet." The lady had played Juliet frequently, but it was the gentlemen's first appearance as the love sick Montague, and consequently he was very nervous. However, all went fairly well till the last scene, when his nervousness was the cause of an unrehearsed effect. The tomb was a very rickety and fragile affair, and the scene was unusually dark. Paris had entered, scattered his tribute of flowers, and departed, when on came Romeo with a stumble which caused a titter. Enraged at this, and forgetting that he had to bring on Paris again and kill him, Romeo commenced battering at the doors of the tomb, which at once flew open, and discovered the fair Juliet in her shroud in a sitting posture, with a candle in one hand and a small book- in the other. The effect was electrical, and the lady, with a startled look at the audience, let fall her candle and book, and fell back on the bier. One of the most deafening roars of laughter was the result. The fact was that Juliet had never played the last scene from the book, and, depending upon the interview between Romeo and Paris, was hurriedly looking over the lines when her stage lover so unexpectedly broke in upon her privacy. A SHAKESPEABIAN DEFINITION OF THE DEAMA. To hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to Nature, to show virtue her own features, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. ■ Herr Blumentbil, the German dramatist, has a keen wit. "What is your opinion of

Martin Griefs tragedy of * Nero * r a. theatregoer asked shim, while that sanguinary play was on the bill at one of the Berlin theatres. " Well," answered Blumenthal, " the play has only one point in common with the character of the Emperor, as handed down by history —that is, bloodtbirstines3. Why, my dear fellow, it is impossible to calculate how many persons are killed off in the course of the evening. I noticed that after the third act even a part of the audience was missing."