reach their destination upon pales or bricks, at the hand of the bill-poster. The wording, or "matter," comes direct from the managers' hand, with instructions as to size, color and number of sheets to be used for the "stands." The pictorial from sketches of the models, to be cut by manual labor on an enlarged scale, upon blocks of wood, printed and reprinted according to the number of colors decided upon. The lithographs we see of startling scenes, thrilling situations or smiling faces, go through as many different processes as probably do the faces of the originals of the latter, before they themselves appear. A copy, or an idea, of what is wanted is given to the artist of the lithographic establishment, who submits a perfect water-color sketch, the exact size of that to be produced; upon approval, this is transferred-reversed-upon the stone, and as carefully and faithfully copied as the original. From the stone, it is printed and reprinted, according to the number of tones required. No little amount of art is used, either, in the mixing of the colors-which can readily be imagined, if one stops to compare the artistic pictures of Mat. Morgan and others, to the glaring eye-sores of ten years ago.

Things thus under way for the advance work, the MSS. is turned over to some clever musician for the purpose of composing original and appropriate incidental music; the twittering notes that so assist the fair heroine in her remorse and grief, and lend such fire to the speeches of the hero, while making some passionate protestation or recounting some glorious feat. Even these have to be studied out and handsomely paid for. The team fairly started and reins well in hand, the manager's life becomes a lively one-now here, now there. Rushing from morning till night, superintending everything, his daily existence made wretched wherever he may be caught (even at his meals) by the countless applications of actors, who are anxious to find employment under so respectable a management, and are desirous of making the great enterprise a vehicle to their individual fame and fortune. These are selected with caution, and much care is taken to get one or two well-known names upon the bills likely to impress the public. The parts are then copied and handed out, rehearsals commenced and the labor split up, each actor devoting himself to his especial part and striving through many a weary hour to add his quota of perfection to the whole.

If the play is a costume or dress piece, the aid of an artist is again called in to make researches and submit faithful drawings of the costumes of the period the play is located in, from which costumers work as by a chart, transforming the angular or rotund figure of

the fortunate actor into the symmetrical beings which form the living and (upon first nights) most imperfect part of the performance. In many cases the actor is expected to dress himself-that is, supply his own wardrobe-the result of which is a heterogeneous mass of costumes of various periods introduced into one play. However, Art is advancing, and mistakes of that kind will soon be matters of history, though I doubt if the public, and, alas, the critics themselves, know the careful research and attention that is given to the cut of a boot or the wearing of a feather.

If a ballet or chorus is necessary, they are coached and drilled separately until efficient enough to enter the general rehearsals. The final rehearsals are simply interrupted performances, with music, scenery and properties. And the property man-what a life is his! badgered, abused and blamed for everything that goes wrong, receiving nothing but his pay and the consciousness of rectitude if it is all right.

Thus, for months the preparation goes on, and the night at last arrives. Does our gentle and voracious public ever give a thought to the number of nervous, anxious hearts behind that curtain of green baize, or see the longing wish for success in the eyes of the knot of whiteshirted, swallow-tail coated gentlemen in the front? Not a bit of it; they pay their dollar, and expect a dollar's worth. If they get it, the additional gray hairs in the managerial head have been well earned. If they don't, they express their opinion, and dismiss it from their minds with the impolite but laconically expressive word "Rot," little caring upon whom the ruin falls, or whose heart is broken.

A party by the name of Johnson.

CRITICS-LIBRETTOS.

It may be that critics are not indispensable; perhaps art could drag its lengthening chain without them.

44

It all depends," said Alphonse Daudet, as we looked through the window of his pretty apartment of the Rue Bellechasse into the wellkept garden of an old convent, upon the point of view."

Mourier was a manager who made a fortune by intriguing with critics to the end that they should say nothing of his playhouse though it shone brilliantly in the eyes of the Parisians.

Pier-Angelo Fiorentino was a critic who lived in luxury by levying tribute upon the subjects of his chronicles.

The American critics say that the London critics love good dinners, and that in Paris, the Figaro men are in a league to say nothing but good of one another.

What the critics of London and Paris think of their trans-oceanic brethren goes without saying.

I had been at the Scala, by the side of Ernest Reyer, at the first performance of Verdi's "Otello," and I had resolved to be as mute about it as faire se peut-because it is true that too many expressions of gratitude for one's good fortune are often considered as indirect petitions for felicitations.

In New York I have been made to think otherwise, or rather, I have thought objectively, that there was little reason for self-praise in having heard Otello and not Tristan and Isoldt. The world of fashion is with Wagner. At Bayreuth in the great festival days, the excursionists were men of the craft, musicians, students, learned literarians and critics; at Milan there were these and the world of fashion that was not at Bayreuth.

Is it that the world of fashion in New York is better educated? And if it is, is it that the critics of New York are more talented or influential than those of London and Paris?

Wagner is essentially German; the soul of the Teutons is in his work; it is patriotic and admirable indeed-but to Americans, why should the patriotism of Germany have more charm than the patriotism of Italy?

There are four leading daily newspapers in New York; therein are three musical critics who are Germans, and one who is an AngloSaxon, brought up in Germany.

They are the translators of the librettos. Those who know them know that it does not matter, and that they are platonic in the extreme; but those who do not, may think that the world of fashion would admire the lyrical drama less if those to whom they look for instruction were not patriots and translators of librettos.

I have not often had the courage to confess my lack of appreciation of Wagner, but with Daudet's "point of review," perhaps I might say that it is not a question of musical knowledge but of patriotism, and-and librettos. David Gamut.

much better piece of work! The correspondents of several leading New York dramatic papers, also, while not exactly comparing the two, soundly (to use a little slang), "went for " the different versions of "Faust and Margurite" and greatly favored the one in which Irving appears, yet none had seen it. The same can be said of several of New York's excellent (?) critics when Lillian Olcott appeared as Theodora. How well they could imagine Sarah Bernhardt in the rôle, how much better finish she could give, how much more realistic it would be, etc.; and from the manner in which they talked it is not strange but what they imagined they really had seen Bernhardt in the part, for a critic's imagination goes a great ways. Can a true critic do this with a clear conscience? If you once broached the subject of comparisons to them they would turn on you tooth and nail and inform you they knew their business; but many would (and do) doubt it. Why compare at all? But if you must, gentlemen, for the sake of the public, don't compare actors whom you have never beheld.

VERSES.

THE EMPTY HEART.

L. H. B.

Who has not seen on the crowded paves,
Of any large city or populous town,
Jostled by righteous, rogues and knaves,
Unnoticed by all, as they pass up and down,

The face of the lost-the man without soul,
Whose body, a shell, still hangs on to life;
Waiting with patience the sight of the goal-
That shall end his existence and finish the strife.

In each hollow eye, the blank vacant stare,
Confirmed by each cheek -sunk and pale,
You can read for yourself-the weight of despair,
And wonder the cause of his pitiful tale.

Is he drunkard or gambler, wrecked on life's strands?
Or slave to vile passions, that cautiously kill ?
Or has he a fellow-man's blood on his hands?
Does remorse and regret his heart and brain fill ?

Alas! there are causes as bitter as these,
Which society pardons, or looks at with sneer,
That sap out life's fount, leaving nothing but lees-
Or the husk and the stork after stealing the ear.

A woman's weak faith, a womanish lie-
A love promised for value received-

A love that should last until either should die-
But a love that in loving deceived.

Ah! woman so fair, so fickle, so frail

A helpmeet for man, as God planned;
What rendering to Him of the terrible trail,
Shall you give of the souls you have damned.

Or,

Ah! woman so frail, so fickle, so fair-
A helpmeet for man as God planned-
A bait of the devil-delusion and snare,
To be kissed, to be loved, and be damned.

Charles Kent.

MR. BOUCICAULT has swayed the week by his genius-first at Wallack's Theatre, where his Old Heads and Young Hearts" is being deliciously played, and at the Star Theatre, where he himself has been the central figure in his two pieces, "Kerry" and "Fin MacCool." At Wallack's the revival of the old comedy has attracted the attention of large audiences, many of whom have doubtless seen Mr. Gilbert as Jesse Rural a number of times, and never tired of it. Miss Robe has won new laurels by her Lady Alice, and Mr. Bellew has done nothing better than Littleton Coke. His is certainly the best I have seen for some years. It is not made out of common. material, neither is it the superficial idea of the part which is so often given it. Somehow or other Bellew reminds me of Pendennis in this character. Perhaps it is his charming boyishness and impetuosity mingled with the manliness that underlies it all. Mr. Edward's Col

onel Rocket is well known as the very best thing he does, and the contrast between this and the sad Bishop in "The Dominie's Daughter," is marked sufficiently to strike the friends who know him as something ludicrous.

There seems to be some grounds for belief that the statement made concerning a possible alliance between Mr. Wallack and Mr. Abbey in the management of the theatre is true. It is said that if this really transpires, Mr. Wallack will probably retire in a couple of years or so, the company will be abolished, and the place used for "Star" and "Combination" purposes. Oh, dear! I hope this is a fiendish invention of the enemy or the gout, and that it will be one more of those startling theatrical rumors that doesn't come to pass. I do know, however, that Mr. Bellew will be retained for next season, and that Osmond Tearle has also

been engaged. That will be a good pair. Kelcey, you know, goes to the Lyceum. I also understand that there is a strong probability, that Rose Coghlan will also belong to the next season's company.

But I have rambled off and might go on talking until doomsday in this sort of style. You will miss it indeed unless you see that exquisite bit of acting by Mr. Boucicault in his one act piece of "Kerry" at the Star Theatre. There is no one else on our stage who could do this old Irish servant so well. His hysterical joy on discovering his young master who was supposed to be drowned at sea, and the subsequent conveyance of the news to the wife who mourns him, is the Meissonier-like effect in detail which is characteristic of the great author's acting, and is carried to such positive reality as to wring tears from a gridiron. I don't see why you smile at my comparison! Don't you remember what Mrs. Siddons said one night as she watched the acting of Garrick ? Why "Damn him!" said she, "he could act a gridiron !"

I was disappointed in "Fin Mac Cool." As a play it seemed rather tawdry and clap-trap in its construction, but it had some very strong situations and some exceedingly bright moments. Boucicault's appearance as Fin was in astonishing contrast to Kerry, and it was difficult to realize as being the same flesh and blood. I think I am willing to see the play over again in order to enjoy Boucicault's original roguishness. As a matter of record, here is the cast:

Isabel Bligh, a Virginia lady.. Miss Georgia Cayvan
Cuba, an octoroon girl, her half-sister.
Miss Bancroft
Philip Bligh, an officer in the Union army,
Mr. H. J. Lethcourt
Little Phil..
Miss Lulu Pendleton
Chauncy Lamar, a Southern gentleman... Mr. W. Ferguson
Dr. Merryweather, M.D., retired from practice,
Mr. J. C. Padgett
Uncle Dan, an old negro servant attached to Isabel,
Mr. Dan Maguinnis

Outside of Mr. Boucicault there is no particular elaboration of character on the part of any of these people-excepting possibly in the case of Mr. Ferguson, who plays Lamar with admirable discretion. Mr. Lethcourt acts well, and his presence is most agreeable. Fritz Williams is also very good-and so is Miss Elmore. Miss Cayvan always acts well. Miss Bancroft and Miss Thorndyke do what they can sometimes agreeably and other times disagreeably.

I wish right here to say, and before I forget it, that on next Wednesday evening a young composer will be heard at Chickering Hall for the first time in New York. Mr. Van der Stücken will on this occasion direct a large orchestra and chorus in the performance of the music of Macbeth," by Edgar S. Kelley. If the readers of THE THEATRE will refer back to page No. 14 of Vol. II., they will find a lengthy article about young Kelley, in which I said a new master has been born. I also wrote that in regard to the wonderful effect of this Macbeth music, a man whom I think is to be depended on as an intelligent judge, and who heard its first performance in San Francisco, told me that he and a party of friends entered Platt's Hall with a sneer upon their faces at this then unknown composer's audacity in attempting to portray the grand passions of Shakespeare's play by music; but the very first bars of the overture did away with any such idea, and scorn and levity were changed to wonder and delight; and when, at the close of the performance the audience rose at the young composer, he joined their cries of "bravo,' and could no more have refrained from doing so, than he could have helped cheering Patti and Scalchi in " Semeramide."

I had a talk with Mr. Will Palmer of the Madison Square Theatre, just after his return with the company from Washington, where it appeared on Monday night last before the President and for the benefit of the Actors' Fund. He had every reason to show his elation over the brilliant success of the affair. Never was a more distinguished audience assembled in the capital, and never was there a more notable company of players entertaining. "Jim, the Penman" will be withdrawn from the Madison Square, April 30, and will then be presented in Boston for a season of four weeks and afterwards in Chicago for eight weeks. The company will return to Boston early in

APRIL 19.-The end of the season is approaching, and return engagements are now being played at most of the theatres here. The largest share of last night's patronage was given to J. B. Polk and "Mixed Pickles," at the Walnut Street Theatre. The character assumed by Mr. Polk in his popular play is a congenial one, and he has developed it into one of the most striking comedy creations of the day. It is not so much acting as it is nature, for J. B. Polk off the boards is imbued with the same love for practical joking and possesses the same conversational charm as his favorite character, Joseph Pickle. He tells a good one on the late M. W. Leffingwell, which will be appreciated by those of the conspirators and there are some-who are, at present, in New York. Sothern was that night to play "The Crushed Tragedian," and Leffingwell in an unguarded moment expressed the opinion that the part would fit him. That was enough for the boys who heard the remark, and the next morning Leffingwell met his fate. He was on Union Square, when Polk approached him:

Morning, Leff. By George, you ought to have that part of Sothern's. Fits you like a glove. Why, man, it must have been written for you."

Leffingwell was thinking hard and fast, when, one by one, the other conspirators appeared on the scene and backed Polk up in his opinion. That settled it. From that hour poor Leffingwell stalked the Rialto thoroughly convinced that he was the man for the part, and that Sothern was stealing his bread-and-butter.

To an inquiry as to which of the watering places was to see him a guest this coming summer, Mr. Polk replied:

"No Saratoga, Newport or Long Branch for me, that is, as long as 10 Union Square exists. The summer resorts of the country all combined into one would not present the comforts and good-fellowship of that spot." He must be nearly right, when Ben Maginley, "just drops in for five minutes," and remains as many hours.

During the past week the audiences that visited the Walnut Street Theatre passed be

neath a large portrait of John T. Raymond, that hung over the inner entrance to the theatre. There was no need of the black draping to tell of his death, for the faces of the throng as they caught sight of the familiar features, took on an expression of sadness that alone would have told the story. The dead actor was in a few weeks to have brought on his new play, "A Gold Mine," at this theatre, and the same audiences that last week paid a silent tribute to his memory, would have been there to give him a warm and cordial reception. Poor Raymond's proclivity for matching can now have full sway, for he is in the land where matches are made.

The future of McCaull's Opera House is still a matter of uncertainty. No responsible offers have been made for the lease, and nothing definite can be ascertained as to what class of entertainment will be conducted there. Col. McCaull is filling out the unexpired term of his lease with combinations, Agnes Herndon this week, Barry and Fay next. The owner of the property, John Sleeper Clarke (Toodles), is expected to sail for America shortly, and after his arrival some conclusion may be reached. Subscriptions should be started to raise a sufficient sum to induce some enterprising villains to kidnap Mr. Clarke on his arrival here and chain him to the American stage.

Jefferies.

SHORT SKETCHES ABOUT THE AMATEURS.

II.-MRS. BLOODGOOD.

MRS. WILBER A. BLOODGOOD, whose portrait adorns the front page of THE THEATRE this week, in a little more than a year has gained for herself a most prominent position among our society amateurs. Mrs. Bloodgood made her first appearance before the public on January 7, of last winter, in the part of Adrienne in "L'été de la St. Martin," originally performed by Croizette at the Theatre Français. At the University Club Theatre again on the evenings of Tuesday and Wednesday, April 27 and 28, 1886, Mrs. Bloodgood acted the part of Mary Rivers in the one-act comedy Withered Leaves," by Fred. W. Broughton, with the "Amateur Comedy Club." The cast of the play was :

the public until the performance given at Chickering Hall, Monday evening, January 31, 1887, when under very short notice she acted the part of Penelope in "The Snowball." This really showed what Mrs. Bloodgood could do, and people also realized that although she had not appeared in everything that offered itself, that at the same time she had not been idle; for in the part of Penelope she rivaled many professionals who are on the stage to-day.

Mrs. Bloodgood's next appearance was in "Coals of Fire," an original drama in four acts, by Miss Lucy Edwalyn Coffey; this was given at the Madison Square Theatre on Monday afternoon, February 14, 1887. In the role of Vivian Thornton, Mrs. Bloodgood did charming work, filling the part with life and snap which kept the audience in constant peals of laughter.

Mrs. Bloodgood as yet had not tried anything in the dramatic line, and was longing as every amateur does, to try the drama. At last a chance

afforded itself, and with the aid of Mr. Coward, Mr. Nicholas, Mr. Paine and Miss Ada Webster Ward, she took the part of Elsie Godet, in an original play by Miss A. W. Ward and Mr. His, entitled, Elsie; or, Love's Warfare." This was given at the Madison Square Theatre on Wednesday afternoon, the 13th of this month. I had the pleasure of being present on this occasion, and watched with great care Mrs. Bloodgood's acting. Although this was hardly a fair trial on account of the play chosen, yet I could trace certain points which were very pleasing, and I have no doubt that with training and experience, Mrs. Bloodgood could act emotional rôles as well as comedy. But how any one possessed with talent for comedy like Mrs. Bloodgood, can wish to act in serious parts, is a mystery to me.

Mrs. Bloodgood besides being a good actress, rides, sings, plays and fences, and in fact, she "doeth all things well." Mrs. Bloodgood has a mast charming future before her in the amateur world, and I wish her every success.

Valentine G. Hall.

OLD LONDON AND PARIS CRITICS. I.

IT is ten o'clock in the morning.

Mademoiselle Belles jambes, first ballerina at the opera, is lying wide awake in the satin covered bed of her boudoir.

The curtains are half drawn and reveal a fine form, a dishevelled head and alabaster neck, an arm that poets would have been delighted to kiss.

The clock on the mantel strikes half-past

ten.

Lisette, the maid, in a white cap, white apron, grey dress, enters with the breakfast and the morning papers.

Mademoiselle Belles jambes, who last night made her first appearance in a new ballet, is anxious to see what the critics have to say about her.