THEATRICAL NOTES

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 483, 25 June 1890, Page 3

THEATRICAL NOTES

Two New Plays. (From our own Correspondent.) London, April 11. Of the two new play? produced at the Shaftesbury and Haymarket Theatres this week, the most generally popular will in all probability be “Dick Venables,” originally known by the far apter title of “ Jackman the Panthe.’.” The heroine of this piece is Mrs Lisle, otherwise Venables, a young married woman, whose husband has mys- - teriously disappeared, and who lives alone in a charming cottage on Dartmoor. The play commences with a love scene between the deserted wife and her old and faithful lover, Captain Lankester, governor of the adjacent prison. The young man en- 1 deavonrs to prove to Mrs Venables that her 1 husband, the rascally Dick, is certainly . dead, and has just succeeded in doing so 1 and induced her to promise . to i marry him, when a gun fired j from” the prison a mile away announces the escape of a convict. Lankester hurries ( off, and in a few minutes enter on hands ■ and knees the fugitive. It is, of course, ' Dick Venables (or Jackman the Panther), j whose terrified wife can for a few minutes ! scarcely believe her eyes. Bub time presses, the gaolers are already on the wretched man’s track and will be at the cottage in a moment. Mrs Venables has an inspiration. Her brother, Captain Kirby, a naval officer unknown to the district, is expected at the cottage that day on a visit. His luggage has already arrived. Whyshouldn’tVenables personate him ? In an instant Dick seizes the suggestion and slips from the room. Three minutes later when the excited gaolers come rushing into the cottage, vowing the prisoner must be thereabouts, they are confronted by aealm.smilinggentleman, who introduces himself as Captain Kirby and civilly offers to assist them in hunting the escaped rascal down. Although the soi-disant captain’s hair is docked like a convict’s, and scoundrel is written on every lineament of his speaking countenance, the ingenious Dartmoor folk promptly accept him for whathe pretends to be. Even the governor of the gaol believes in Mrs Lisle’s brother, and confides to. the grinning Panther’s astonished ears his love troubles. With all his cunning, however, it is evident that Venables cannot keep this game up for long, and it is surprising that such an uncommonly shrewd gentleman should have risked his safety upon such shallow personation. The play would have gained in probability, though it must have lost in excitement, in making Dick, say, another brother. There would have been the same opportunity of confronting him with Charles Kirby,when that naval officer turns up, to the surprise of everybody, on the stage at the close of the fourth act. In the second act, however, Dick is already recognised by the trusted valet of a farcical old German . gentleman who prides himself upon being a judge of character, and is, of course, mightily deceived, for the valet is no better than a common thief, and has taken service with the object of robbing the old fool of his valuable collection of precious stones. To accomplish thi3 purpose the valet and his friend, Dick Venables, plot together, and Dick carries off what they would call the “swag.” When this is hidden it is found by a clergyman of the low comedy denomination, who has kleptomania very badly, and when the property is restored to its owner, Peters, the valet, exposes his confederate, thinking he has been over- 1 reached. In a struggle with Peters the convict is mortally wounded with a dagger, and as the curtain falls Dick \ enables dies 1 in the arms of his wife. Mr Willard’s acting as the dashing convict, Venables, is throughout admirable, and would pull through a much worse day. The piece’s chief fault, indeed, is a slowness of movement, specially obvious towards the crises of the first and second acts. No doubt, however, this will be improved. The inoffensive old kleptomaniac, Archdeacon Jellicoe, is a hard part to play, and, in any but artistic hands, it might easilv have provoked the hostility of the pit. ' Mr Alfred Bishop, fortunately, has perfect taste. On the whole, I think “ Dick Venables” will draw, espeeially in your part of tho world. “ A Village Priest.’ Sydney Grundy’s powerful play, with the above title, was successfully produced, at the Haymarket on Thursday last. It is a much remoddled version of a French melodrama called “The Secret of La Terreuso.” This told the story of JeanTorqueriie, a man condemned to the galleys for a murder he did not commit. . When Torquenie has served his time, his first thought is to establish his innocence. Armaud D’Arcay, the lawyer to whom he applies, is the son of the judge who sentenced him. Reverence for his dead father's virtuous memory is with this young man a pu-sion. Scornfully indignant at first, Torquenie’s earnestness conquers him. The alleged motive for the murder was jealousy. The murdered man was said to be the lover of Torquenie’s wife. Bit by bit Armaud unravels the mystery. Mwas the Combesse Tremeillan who was the victim's paramour, and of course the Comte, her husband, must have killed him. The Comtesse is dead, bub the Comte still lives, and the awkward thing is that his daughter, Marguerite, is s promised bride. Asa matter of fact, it was not the Comte who slew the seducer. The avenger v/as La Ter reuse, an old mad woman, the Comte’s foster-mother,, who could nob brook to see “ her boy dishonoured. De Tremeillan confessed everything to the judge, and Torquenie was arrested the same day, and to oblige his friend the judge made haste to condemn and sentence an innocent man. Knowing all this, Armaud is on the horns of a dilemma. If justice is done he must lose his bride or dishonour his father’s memory, which will probably kill his mother. Still he. never falters. Happily, this Spartan heroism is not too highly tried. At the last moment Torquenie himself, out of pure gratitude to Madame D’Arcay for her kindness to his unprotected daughter, declares that he was really guilty, that his sentence was a just one. Touched by such sublime generosity, the Comte has a great moment also, and takes all the responsibility on himself. The Abbe Dubois, a genial Jesuit, who has pervaded the play declaring that he knows nothing, while his manner has convinced us that he knows everything, says that a miracle has come to pass—and down comes the curtain. Uow great a change Grundy has worked in this scheme will be seen when I say that he has cut out La Terreuse and the Comte do Tremeillan bodily, while he has brought tho Comtesse to life, and made the judge—Armaud’s father—her seducer and murderer of her husband. He has seen fit also to afflict the good Madame D’Arcay with blindness, and to import mujch pathetic interest into the character of the. simple parish priest, the Abbe Dubois. This good man and Madame D’Arcay were boy and girl together, and he loved her in secret always. It was when D’Arcay won her affection that Dubois renounced the world and entered the Church. The holy man’s pure affection and simple faith are beautifully expressed throughout. Ho knows the real murderer of course, and the climax

comes when, after terrible self-communings, the poor priest breaks the seal of confession and proclaims Torquenie’s innocence. Torquenie himself has also beon remodelled. He is not liberated, but escapes from prison, prompted by an overwhelming desire to see his little Jeanne, who at first repulses him with horror. Self-sacrifice is still, however, his strong suit, for he cheerfully goes, back to finish his sentence sooner than inflict pain on the woman who was so good to his motherless child.