Puck — September 19, 1877 — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“UNDERTHE WILLOWS"—THE OLD SCHOOL. New York, Sept. rgth, '77. * Dear Puck: In this sensational age of imnovations, when each dramatist vies with the other in stringin, together new and startling effects never heard of before, it is a relief to be taken back to the drama of years ago, witha good. old-fashioned villain, practicing the best old-fashioned _vil- lainy on an old-fashioned heroine of old-fash- ioned purity, and to see this villainy flaunting its might through six acts, until it’ is finally crushed by old-fashioned virtue, exceedingly triumphant, at the fall of the curtain. ‘There isn’t much of contemporaneous human interest about this sort of thing, but it worms itself into our good graces before we knowit, anc for the sake of our ancestors, whose memories we love, and’ whose opinions we respect, we look upon the resuscitated drama with some- thing like affection. “Under the Willows” was the name of the play of the old school, performed by Mr. and Mrs. Waller of the old school, at the Lyceum Theatre, last week. It is in six acts. This is the one fact that is confusing. Why should the dramatist have limited himself to six acts—save for the pur- pose of permitting his auditors to get to bed before the next day? The story of the drama doesn’t call for an end in act six. The villain, without much strain on his executive faculties, could easily pile on enough agony for two or three additional acts. = As a lover of the old school, but strictly im- partial withal, Ihave a right to demand a few more acts, if I feel that my appetite for the drama of my fathers has not been appeased. It may be interesting to the young genera- tion of theatre-goers to be initiated into the mysteries of ‘ Under the Willows.” ” The first act is all happiness. No modern flippant happiness, that might grow out of the: victory of the American Rifle Team, but that radiant, lasting joy that blooms in the heart, while all around is sweet tranquility. There is-the heroine and mother. She is happy. Her son and her daughter are both bethrothed. ‘That surely is enough to make any mother of the old school happy. Her hus- band is temporarily absent. ‘That might be additional cause for happiness were she a hero- ine of the modern school. The son is certainly happy. He is going to get married to a good-looking girl. The daughter, likewise to be married, is equally delighted—though in her case, the ob- ject of her choice being a lanky young gentle- man, one would not think-him calculated to thrill the feminine bosom with ecstasy—to any great extent. There is, furthermore, the father of the other family, who rejoices at the coming nuptials. On this scene of general satisfaction, enters, to weird music, the villain of the old school. We know he is a villain from the way he rolls his eyes and his teeth. He has been secretly married to the heroine, which makes it un- pleasant for her. She, believing him dead, has married her present lord, now absent. The curtain falls on the installment of the villain as secretary in the house of the husband “Hreturned, and there’ a} prospect of lively times. The dramatist loses no time. “He evidently’! means to make good use of his six'acts,_ The T husband, in the next act, interrupts a lovescene between the villain and the heroine, and the curtain falls on a blow! A blow. from the hus- band to the'villain! >t" °-- y There is very warm work now. in Pfospect. The effect of the last climax would have n more thrilling, perhaps, if the indignant, hus- band hadn’t looked like a young man whom the wife of the old school had adopted on acz,, count of his tender_and uncultured years; a} young man, in fact, with a juvenile black wig, and ofsuch slight physical proportions that the powerful villain seemed all the more powerful in contrast. But even as it was, there was enough terror, in the old school, to answer all Purposes without adventitious aids. jow we all know that no good old-fashioned villain is going to allow himself to be hit in the face by anybody under his size without vowing eternal vengeance, more eternal than ever. On the other hand, the mild-eyed husband, | with a magnanimity only to be found in the ol:! school, forgives his wife without asking any impertinent questions, and travels to Paris with the villain, to have the latter sign a paper which shall relinquish his claim. Nothing could be simpler or more natural, The meek and too-confiding husband is pitched over a foot-bridge into a swamp under the willows,and when he tries to rise is shot at. | Curtain falls, and there is a measure of relief to the audience in the knowledge that, for some | time at least, there will be one character less to | take care of. ‘The machinations of the villain now be- come simply terrible. He assumes the dead husband's name, tries to delude the son of the heroine withthe adage that it’s a wise child that knows its own father, and heaps an ineffa- ble amount of agony upon the poor heroine’s head, by alienating the affections of her off- spring. There are numerous outbursts of ‘‘ What, you my father! Never!” on the part of. the | virtuous young hero; but, in spite of these dra- | matic protestations, he has to accept the situa- tion, in obedience to the playwright of the old school. He makes several rash attempts to choke off the double-dyed villain in fits of moral indignation; but each time something intervenes to prevent the proper execution of the task. When the wildness of the deeds, now in progress, reaches its climax, the dead hus- band walks in with a delightful nonchalance, in sweet contrast to the surrounding turbulence, and buries his black wig among the auburn curls of his own true wife, to the general amaze- ment of the minor characters, the intensest flashing of the villain’s eyes and teeth, and ap- propriate music. When the curtain finally falls on the sixth act, the villain, whose death hag been delayed so long, is laid -low at last, and contentment reigns supreme under the willows. There are a few minor incidents that help to fill out these sixacts, but they are all subservient to the main plot, which urges on its career with a fixedness of purpose, and a surmountableness, as it were, of all obstacles, which does credit to the old school. “Under the Willows” was rendered by Mr. and Mrs. Emma Waller with a full appreciation of its requirements. “ Mrs. Waller had the re- quisite age completely. - She never for an instant forgot that she was a wife and a mother. Nor did ‘the audience. She was strenuously earnest and conscientious to the utmost in the portrayal of her earnestness. Mr. D, W. Waller was well fitted with the part of the villain. He was flexible beyond all measure of flexibility—especially about the lips*=He was'a villaiijso deeply dyed that he etame.a pleastire to,avanalytical mind. When he™ a look of terror there was no mis- ‘taking it for anything else, and no Delsartian system could have.made his purpose’ clearer. When he*triumphed; an elated Bashi-Bazouk sitting on the carcasggof a conquered Cossack, was amere puppet, for looks, in comparison to him, In tact, he was a worthy, a very worthy representative of the old school in every thrilling detail. 438 But there were those in the cast who felf Short of.the standard. f The juvenile husbarid and father, aforesaid, ‘was one of them. The proud French*Duke de Senville, with a Tipperary accent, was another. The-lover of the heroine’s daughter, of ‘the beautiful young girl to whom he gave hisfirst, his fondest love,” was of that dyspeptic exterior which does not accord with Cupid’s sketch- book. He looked as though the oldschool had been too much for him and the fond dreams of his early youth had been shattered by very stern realities. These three artistic embodiments were by Messrs. Crossen, Metkaff, and Fuller. It was a pleasure, on the other hand, to see the fiery animation of Mr. Ed. ‘Thorne, endea- voring to grapple with the old-school demands of Albert de Favrolles, and doing: justice to them. ‘There was the healthy robustness of youth about him that was really enjoyable. Miss Jennie Murdock, as his charming sister, was a sweet contrast, and made all the sacrifices of the heroine-mother for her child that seem justifiable. I have a sort of affection, mild-affection, for the old school, but, with the best of intentions, I can’t venerate it. I have grown up with it, but I have become reconstructed. I .don’t want my villains labeled so plainly, and the stamp of virtue so painfully visible on my heroes and heroines. But, independent of all personal considera- tion, I sincerely recommend all those who still love the plays made glorious by the idols of their youth, to witness ‘¢ Under the Willows,” for it is tinged with the gaudiest colors of fiction, steeped in the deepest depths of in- tensity, and made palatable by the most expe- rienced caterers. Rejuvenatedly yours, Stras Drirt. P.S.—I shall go to see ‘‘ Struck Oil.” That’s of a school that out-modernizes even the modern, S. D. A VIGIL. HE lingers alone at the portal; The night-wind, spice-laden, caresses ‘The crimson rose tied in her tresses; She looks up and down and she sighs. From ‘hind the lace curtains I notice, Mote fair than the breast of the lotus, Her-caini facej I envy the mortal For whom she ow strains her bright eyes. ‘She scems, there jo.tremble and worry ‘And languish serene. For Love’s blisses Tween she fs eager; what kisses Must dwell oni those labials dear. Those delicate, smile-haloed glances Awaken bewildering romances; ‘When steps up the stoop in a hurry Her lord with a pitcher of beer. R. K. MUNKITTRICK.