The Sun.
London, England, 1848-06-22 00:00:00

ST. JAMES'S THEATRE.
THEATRE HISTORIQUE.
Last night, at the above house, the members of M.
Dumas's " Theatre Historique" fairly had their revenge
on the British public who had so boisterously interrupted
their intended exhibition at Drury-lane last week. They'
sent them all to sleep, except those (no inconsiderable
number), whom they had previously ,sent out of the
house. We had a shrewd suspicion, having read the
play, that this would have Seen the result at Old Drury,
if the British lion had allowed fur once the Gallic cock
uponbtooucrreodwuudera
the
strong
"legitimate" dunghill. We la-
boured
impressionto work se
outthe i
much-
dreaded evil evil were
usual way, uninterrupted, it would have carried with
it its own antidote, and left " native talent" nothing
that
itlf if
to dread in this line at any rate, however it
may have to compete with our vivacious neigh-
bours in the lighter species of dramatic performance.
Monte Cristo is a very dull drama, quite as common-
place as anything ever produced at the Surrey or Co-
burg Theatres, and extending over more than twice the
ordinary space of time. The performance commenced
at eight, and did not terminate till a quarter to one, and
contains less of " striking" incident, less of " strongly
marked " character, less of the " tableau" matter than
any melo-drama we ever sat out. For the language (we
have read it through with dogged industry), we way say
that a greater amount of pointless small talk, only re-
lieved occasionally by very heavy fustian, was never before
submitted to the perusal of the Lord Chamberlain of her
Majesty's household. But the great point upon which w 6
complain of M. Dumas is, that although he states in his
play-bill that each part of his ten-act drama is complete
in itself—we can discover no completed idea in the first
which we last night sat out. There are certain require•
ments to completeness in a story; one of which is, that it
should have a beginning and an end, to
say nothing
of a middle. Now M. Dumas's story has a be-
ginning, but it has no end, and no middle. It is,
as far as the part is concerned, a beginning
" run mad." The second part, perhaps, will bring all
those who assisted at the first to their senses, including
the author, should he be so fortunate as to be present.
But let us try and give an idea of the tedious vicissitudes
in the story, as far as it goes. The first act opens with
the deck of the Pharaon, a merchant vessel, which has
just arrived at Marseilles, the captain having died on
the voyage home. On comes the owner, who is very
sorry for the loss of the captain, and appoints Edmond
(afterwards Monte Cristo), second in command, to the
berth. Edmond is very grateful; but, having a father
and a sweetheart on shore, takes leave to go ashore to
see them—father first, sweetheart afterwards—not very
gallant, but doubtless very proper and moral. Mean-
time, it appears that Edmond has an enemy on board,
a mesamate, Danglars, who is jealous of his advance-
ment, and also an enemy on shore, Fernand, a Catalan,
who is jealous of the favour he receives from the
sweetheart. These two gentlemen meet together
just before the ropes des fiangailles, and resolve to
put Edmond between four stone walls. So they
concoct a letter to the Procureur du Roi, partly
founded on fact, stating that Edmond en the way home
has stopped at the Isle of Elbe, and brought a letter
from the mareschal of the usurper (Napoleon) to
his agent in Paris; and so prompt is, or was, the execu-
tion of justice upon suspicion in France, that in the
midst of the feast poor Edmond is marched off to prison,
where he languishes three years and nine months; the
lair sweetheart, Mercedes—dear, ingenious, devoted
creature!—iu the mean time marrying the aforesaid Fer-
nand, the rival and deadly enemy of the man she was so
very fond of. We could willingly pause to contemplate
this domestic picture; but unhappily, we have only one
glimpse at Madame de Moncart's salons (her husband
has been ennobled for his exploits in Greece), before we
are immured, a perpetuiti, in the dungeon of the forlorn
Edmond in the Chateau d'lf. We will skim over this
painful period as hastily as possible, not dwelling upon
poor Edmond's long and vociferous descriptions of the
horrors of solitary imprisonment, delivered by M. Me-
lingue, by the way, in much too passionate a tone fur
one who had felt the slow-killing effect of such a
course of treatment. We come to the denouement,
which consists in the escape of the hero from prison
under the following circumstances:—An old gentleman,
long a prisoner in the next cell, dies suddenly, having
previously revealed the existence of certain treasures of
much value in Monte Christo; he dies, and his body is
put into a sack, in order to being thrown into the sea,
by way of burial. Edmond seizes the opportunity_
takes the body out of the sack, which he appropriates to
himself; and so concealed is carried to a high point out-
side the battlements of the chateau, and thrown into the
sea. An agitato movement in the orchestra follows; and
Edmond having got out of the sack, mounts upon an in-
hospitable rock, in the midst of the roaring ocean, ex-
claiming "Je suis sauve!" and then the curtain falls.
It would be unjust to deny that the actors
engaged in this tedious performance showed con
siderable merit, in a certain way—the pure me-
lodramatic ; but it would be untrue to say that
in this line of business they displayed anything
to eclipse that which has been done, and is
done every day over the water, by our vehement native
melodramatists at the Surrey and Victoria theatres. M.
Melingue is an energetic man of considerable stature.
In the earlier scenes he is a sorry counterpart of our
Long Tom Coffins, whilst in the latter he rants and gri-
maces after a fashion which would only provoke laughter
at either of the classic houses we have lately named.
The most amusing part of the performance was a little
bit by M. B 'utin, in the second act, who, half mali-
ciously and half friendly inclined towards the hero, who
is an old friend of his, gave a good specimen of the
growth and progress of drunkenness in weak vessels.
Thu play was applauded eccasionally with vehemence
in the earlier scenes; but towards the end the interest
gradually dec:ined, and by the time the curtain fell, the
house, which was but poorly filled at the commence-
ment, was nearly empty.