STRANGE PLAYERS.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 2652, 20 September 1881, Page 2

STRANGE PLAYERS.

In an interesting article by Mr Dutton Cook, in the current number of “ Belgravia,” anecdotes are given of actors who were either mad, blind, or otherwise altogether unfitted, as one would suppose, for the stage. The following case he takes from the records of the Theatre Francais:—

The actor Monrose, famous at one time for his admirable personation of the character of Figaro, had been for some months in confinement because of the disordered condition of his mind. His success in Beaumarchais’ comedy had in truth turned his brain. He had so identified himself with the part of the Spanish barber that he could not lay it down cr be rid of it. On the stage or off, sleeping or waking, he was always Figaro. He had forgotten his own name, but he answered to that of Figaro. In conversation he was absent, appeared not to hear or not to understand what was said to him; but a quotation from the “ Barbier ” produced an immediate reply, a merry laugh, a droll gesture. It was resolved that a performance should be given for his benefit, and that he should appear as Figaro on the occasion. The house was crowded to excess. Mdlle. Rachel and all the leading players of the Francais lent their services. The representation produced a profit of 18,000 francs. Dr Blanche, the leading physician of the asylum in which the actor had been confined, was present throughout the evening, in close attendance upon his patient, soothing and encouraging him in the intervals of the performance. The anxiety both of spectators and artists was very great. The scene was described as “ exciting in the highest degree.” It was dreaded lest the actor’s malady should suddenly disclose itself. The audience hesitated to applaud lest they should dangerously excite the poor man. Mdlle Rachel was so affected that she twice lost recollection of the words she should speak, although she was appearing in one of her most favourite and familiar characters. The representatives of Rosina and Almaviva could not disguise their terror ; at each word, at each gesture, of Figaro’s they looked for betrayal of his insanity. It was said, however, that the actor had never played better than on this his last night upon the stage, when he was released but for a few hours from the madhouse. He sought to reassure his friends by his ease of manner, his smiling glances, his air of complete self-posses-sion. At one time only did he seem thoroughly conscious of the painful position in which he was placed. Towards the close of the third act of the comedy Figaro is required to exclaim three times, u I lest foul" (He is mad) and here, and here only, did Monrose himself seem to betray that he was aware of the truth ; he spoke with increasing vehemence and with an expression of the most poignant grief.”