QUEEN ANNE’S DEAD; OR, RALEIGH TOO
BAD OF HIM.
(Memoranda of a Harassing Ainsworth Night at the Haymarlcct.)
Two thing’s struck us while seeing Queen and Cardinal. What an unfortunate thing for an Actress to have inherited the name of Sid
dons without the Siddons genius, and what a pity it was that an Author, calling himself Walter 8. Raleigh, should have done little
more than string together some of the strongest dramatic situations from Harrison Ainsworth’s Windsor Castle, and should have produced his indifferent patchwork as a “new and original poetical
historical play,” without the slightest acknowledgment of the source whence he derived his materials. We trace the situations one by one,
even to the change of Norrys for Wyat in the scene where Henry threatens to enter by force if the door be not at once opened to him.
So much for where the idea came from; it is also rather hard on the Author that it should ever have entered into Shakspeare’s head to write Henry the Eighth.
ACT I.—Lord Surrey composing a Surrey-nade to Geraldine. A great poet, but, like all great poets, a very bad hand at reciting his own compositions. Two Jesters enter, both apparently imitating
the tones of the late Mr. Buck stone, and both dismally failing in playing the fool. There used to be certain dreadfully dull people called “Shakspearian clowns” in travelling circuses, and these two may have escaped from some such show. Enter Anne Boleyn (or Bullaine), who, judging from her make-up and accent,
seems to have been something between Miss Kate Santlet in an Alhambra opera and Mrs. John Wood in an eccentric character, only without the chic of the one or the fun of the other. Henry comes in, looking at first as bluff and jovial as possible, but, im
mediately he begins to talk, the consciousness of having before him five Acts of the blankest verse dialogue utterly prostrates the poor
man, and the bluffness and joviality of Mr. Luigi Lablache as
Henry the Eighth disappeared entirely under the heavy tragedy cloud which hangs over, him, and he smole no more that night. Someone comes in, and says they’ve “caught a butcher.” (For
details, see Harrison
Ainsworth’s first Chapters of Windsor Castle.) Whereupon Henry says, “ Hang tho butcher! ” and then goes off to see the
sentence carried into effect, or to string him up with his own hand, on the principle that, “if you want a thing well done, you must do it yourself.” The Act finishes with Ka
therine cursing Anne, which seems to affect her very slightly, though, to make up for this, it nearly sends Lord Surrey, the I’oet (represented by a very highly-coloured young contortionist), into violent convulsions.
ACT II.— Wolsey soliloquises about the betting on his chances of
the Papacy. More Ainsworth dramatised. Atme shows us what her favourite position is, with her knee on a chair, and generally looks as if slic were going to break out into a song with cancan dance, as Kate Santlet, or to say something droll, as Mrs. John Wood; but as she does neither one nor the other, her part, con
sequently, is a trifle disappointing. She might have had a dance with Wolsey, but even this Cardinal point was omitted.
ACT III., Scene 1.—Between two fools this scene rather comes to the ground, falling very flat.
Scene 2.—First appearance of Dr. Cranmer (Mr. Kemble), a middle-aged personinblack, look
ing like a comic countryman, who, having been converted, had taken to the serious line, and was doing a flourishing busi
ness as an undertaker of the period. The Act ends with the fall of Mr. Swinburne as Wolsey, which, as the Actor is a man of con
siderable weight in his profession, might have been attended with considerable danger to himself and the stage furniture.
ACT IY.—Chiefly remarkable for the idea of the Circus originally suggested by the “ Shakspearian Clown,” now being sustained by Anne, who enters in a wonderful riding-habit,
and carrying the usual fair equestrienne s switch-whip. General disappointment at no
horse being brought in.
Notable also for the sudden and startling
appearance of _ a man dressed as Grindoff in The Miller and his Men.
This turns out to he Anne s lover, Percy, whose mania for “ dressing up ” must have entirely oblite
rated any slight sense of humour he may have possessed, or he never could have appeared out of a Richardson’s Show in such a pair of two
pence coloured boots,
which, in the palmy days of Melodrama,
would have been greeted with three distinct rounds of applause from the Gallery of the Wic
torier Theayter. When his beard is off, he turns out to be a very sheepish sort of person in wolf’s clothing; and we feel sure that had his boots been taken away from him, he would have boon reduced to the merest nonentity. As it was, his boots gave him, so to speak, a little local colouring, and consequently the audience
were so far—that is nearly up to the knee—satisfied. Could he only have stood on his head and talked with his boots, this Act might have drawn all London.
ACT V.—After a front scene in Greenwich Park, where somebody irritates Henry by singing a common-place hunting song, we come to------
Scene 2.—Boom in the Tower. Perkins (Where’s Barclay ?) Here Anne Bullaine enters, very much altered m appearance, no longer like Miss Kate Santi.ey and Mrs. JonN Wood, but bearing a strong resemblance to what Mr. Ldwin Boom or Mr. Hare
might be like if either of them took to fair hair and petticoats. She is a trifle off her head, in anticipation of her head haying to be very soon off her. She wanders in her mind—but, as Frank Talfourd said, “she hasn’t far to go”—and then she tells us she has been
dreaming of Hever—and might have sung, “Hever of thee I m sweetly dreaming ’’—but she wasn’t mad enough for that—and only talks just a little more nonsense than she has already done through the four previous Acts.
Reappearance of the Converted Comic Countryman, who, having given up undertaking, has dropped his respectable black and gone in for purple velvet, with fur collar and cuffs, as Archbishop of Canterbury. He improves the occasion by giving a short but tedious sermon, and then there being nothing left for him to say, he looks
State Apartments now Open to the Public. Please not to touch the Figures. Cardinal Cancan and Anna Boleno.
Heavy Fall of Moisey. Such a nice Dress to
Hide in! She’s got ’em on.
Percy Hotspur quite per se in his unique
im-percy-nation of Grindoff in the cele
brated old Millerdrama.
BAD OF HIM.
(Memoranda of a Harassing Ainsworth Night at the Haymarlcct.)
Two thing’s struck us while seeing Queen and Cardinal. What an unfortunate thing for an Actress to have inherited the name of Sid
dons without the Siddons genius, and what a pity it was that an Author, calling himself Walter 8. Raleigh, should have done little
more than string together some of the strongest dramatic situations from Harrison Ainsworth’s Windsor Castle, and should have produced his indifferent patchwork as a “new and original poetical
historical play,” without the slightest acknowledgment of the source whence he derived his materials. We trace the situations one by one,
even to the change of Norrys for Wyat in the scene where Henry threatens to enter by force if the door be not at once opened to him.
So much for where the idea came from; it is also rather hard on the Author that it should ever have entered into Shakspeare’s head to write Henry the Eighth.
ACT I.—Lord Surrey composing a Surrey-nade to Geraldine. A great poet, but, like all great poets, a very bad hand at reciting his own compositions. Two Jesters enter, both apparently imitating
the tones of the late Mr. Buck stone, and both dismally failing in playing the fool. There used to be certain dreadfully dull people called “Shakspearian clowns” in travelling circuses, and these two may have escaped from some such show. Enter Anne Boleyn (or Bullaine), who, judging from her make-up and accent,
seems to have been something between Miss Kate Santlet in an Alhambra opera and Mrs. John Wood in an eccentric character, only without the chic of the one or the fun of the other. Henry comes in, looking at first as bluff and jovial as possible, but, im
mediately he begins to talk, the consciousness of having before him five Acts of the blankest verse dialogue utterly prostrates the poor
man, and the bluffness and joviality of Mr. Luigi Lablache as
Henry the Eighth disappeared entirely under the heavy tragedy cloud which hangs over, him, and he smole no more that night. Someone comes in, and says they’ve “caught a butcher.” (For
details, see Harrison
Ainsworth’s first Chapters of Windsor Castle.) Whereupon Henry says, “ Hang tho butcher! ” and then goes off to see the
sentence carried into effect, or to string him up with his own hand, on the principle that, “if you want a thing well done, you must do it yourself.” The Act finishes with Ka
therine cursing Anne, which seems to affect her very slightly, though, to make up for this, it nearly sends Lord Surrey, the I’oet (represented by a very highly-coloured young contortionist), into violent convulsions.
ACT II.— Wolsey soliloquises about the betting on his chances of
the Papacy. More Ainsworth dramatised. Atme shows us what her favourite position is, with her knee on a chair, and generally looks as if slic were going to break out into a song with cancan dance, as Kate Santlet, or to say something droll, as Mrs. John Wood; but as she does neither one nor the other, her part, con
sequently, is a trifle disappointing. She might have had a dance with Wolsey, but even this Cardinal point was omitted.
ACT III., Scene 1.—Between two fools this scene rather comes to the ground, falling very flat.
Scene 2.—First appearance of Dr. Cranmer (Mr. Kemble), a middle-aged personinblack, look
ing like a comic countryman, who, having been converted, had taken to the serious line, and was doing a flourishing busi
ness as an undertaker of the period. The Act ends with the fall of Mr. Swinburne as Wolsey, which, as the Actor is a man of con
siderable weight in his profession, might have been attended with considerable danger to himself and the stage furniture.
ACT IY.—Chiefly remarkable for the idea of the Circus originally suggested by the “ Shakspearian Clown,” now being sustained by Anne, who enters in a wonderful riding-habit,
and carrying the usual fair equestrienne s switch-whip. General disappointment at no
horse being brought in.
Notable also for the sudden and startling
appearance of _ a man dressed as Grindoff in The Miller and his Men.
This turns out to he Anne s lover, Percy, whose mania for “ dressing up ” must have entirely oblite
rated any slight sense of humour he may have possessed, or he never could have appeared out of a Richardson’s Show in such a pair of two
pence coloured boots,
which, in the palmy days of Melodrama,
would have been greeted with three distinct rounds of applause from the Gallery of the Wic
torier Theayter. When his beard is off, he turns out to be a very sheepish sort of person in wolf’s clothing; and we feel sure that had his boots been taken away from him, he would have boon reduced to the merest nonentity. As it was, his boots gave him, so to speak, a little local colouring, and consequently the audience
were so far—that is nearly up to the knee—satisfied. Could he only have stood on his head and talked with his boots, this Act might have drawn all London.
ACT V.—After a front scene in Greenwich Park, where somebody irritates Henry by singing a common-place hunting song, we come to------
Scene 2.—Boom in the Tower. Perkins (Where’s Barclay ?) Here Anne Bullaine enters, very much altered m appearance, no longer like Miss Kate Santi.ey and Mrs. JonN Wood, but bearing a strong resemblance to what Mr. Ldwin Boom or Mr. Hare
might be like if either of them took to fair hair and petticoats. She is a trifle off her head, in anticipation of her head haying to be very soon off her. She wanders in her mind—but, as Frank Talfourd said, “she hasn’t far to go”—and then she tells us she has been
dreaming of Hever—and might have sung, “Hever of thee I m sweetly dreaming ’’—but she wasn’t mad enough for that—and only talks just a little more nonsense than she has already done through the four previous Acts.
Reappearance of the Converted Comic Countryman, who, having given up undertaking, has dropped his respectable black and gone in for purple velvet, with fur collar and cuffs, as Archbishop of Canterbury. He improves the occasion by giving a short but tedious sermon, and then there being nothing left for him to say, he looks
State Apartments now Open to the Public. Please not to touch the Figures. Cardinal Cancan and Anna Boleno.
Heavy Fall of Moisey. Such a nice Dress to
Hide in! She’s got ’em on.
Percy Hotspur quite per se in his unique
im-percy-nation of Grindoff in the cele
brated old Millerdrama.