Dramatic
“KING CARROT” AT THE GRAND OPERA-HOUSE. The hour at which the representation of “King Carrot” at the Grand Opera-house terminated last night, or, more properly speaking, this morning, prevents so careful a review of the play as its qualities call for. The imperfections of a first performance would, in any case, have made a satisfying summary of the spectacular merits of the entertainment — its chief merits, it will be understood —almost impossible. A burried review of the story of the piece and of the points illustrated with most felicity is, for these reasons, all that can be attempted. A very numerous audience witnessed the representation, and its tendency to applaud — a very remarkable tendency when the intense heat of the auditorium and the length of the rehearsal are taken into account – found frequent opportunities for gratification. To the durable success of “King Carrot” we cannot, under the impression of yesterday’s incidents, point with certainty. But it may be said from the outset that at many stages of the evening great delight was manifested at the action of the piece, at its recital and at the special beauties of portions of its stage costume.
The story of “King Carrot” runs thus : Fridolin, Sovereign of Krokodyne, is so deeply involved in financial difficulties that he is determined to wed the Princess Cunegonde, whom he bas not even seen, with a view to retrieving his fortunes. The necessity for the marriage is, however, removed by the appearance of Robin-Luron, a genius who tempts him to part with the armor of hie ancestors — much as Charles Surface is induced to do with his pictures in “The School for Scandal” — in consideration of the money the Sovereign requires. Fridolin, though released from need, meets Cunegonde and becomes enamored [1] of her. The nuptials are to occur without delay. Now it happens that Fridolin bas incurred the hostility of Coloquinte, an aged sorceress, who, for some misdeed or other, has been in exile from fairy-land until the period now dealt with.
Though an enemy of Coloquinte, from whose spells he frees Rosee du Soir, a beautiful maiden whom the witch has stolen, and on the proceeds of whose labors [2] she has subsisted since the day of her banishment. Robin, desirous of teaching Fridolin the art of governing well, conspires with the sorceress to dethrone him. This is easily accomplished by the union of the two genii. Coloquinte, potent a new selects for her instrument King Carrot, a horrible gnome of the vegetable kingdom, and, while causing all the women at court to fall in love with her protégé, she transfers all his disagreeable traits to Fridolin, whom a revolution soon unseats. A subsequent act finds Fridolin wandering the world over. Happily, he is still under the protection of Robin, who only lent himself — and partially at that — to Coloquinte’s plans, with the intention of chastening the young ruler by misfortune. After consultation with an aged astrologer, who, alter being torn piecemeal in full view of the audience, proves to be a youthful magician of the first water, the fugitive learns that the single talisman by which King Carrot is to be annihilated is the ring of King
Salomon, last heard of in Pompeii previous to the eruption of Vesuvius. The astrologer’s gift of a magic lamp transports the party to the distant city, and restores at to the condition of splendor [3] and teeming activity in which it existed previous to the outbreak of the volcano. Fridolin secures the ring and return homeward to test its might. He and his companions, cleverly disguised, appear at court. King Carrot is discovered in the enjoyment of all Fridolin’s privileges, and in possession of the affection of Cunegonde. This perfidious creature is advised by Coloquinte that Fridolin has a talisman, the influence of which King Carrot cannot withstand. When Fridolin reveals himself to her, she feigns a passion she bas
never experienced, and, by stratagem, seizes the ring. The jewel is at once turned against Fridolin, and tbe legitimate Sovereign of Krokodyne is once more driven forth. Vice, there is scarcely any occasion to say, is not intended to triumph more frequently in fairy spectacles than in melo-drama. The royal wanderer seeks out the kingdom of insects and enters into an alliance against Coloquinte with the Queen of the Bees. The incidents following acquaint us with the fact that the sorceress has mysteriously disappeared and that King Carrot is, literally, rotting after the fashion of ordinary leguminous products. His subjects tire of him and a revolt is imminent. It occurs and King Carrot, terrified, surrenders without striking a blow. A few seconds before his overthrow, Coloquinte appears and warns him that he is still potent so long as a tuft on his bead ; which no human hand can remove is untouched. Unluckily, however, a monkey lights upon the tuft, and the rule of the vegetable ends. Fridolin regains the sceptre, and it may be foreseen that his Queen will be pretty Rosée du Soir, who, ever since Robin has released her from duress, has. followed the wandering monarch in the habit of a page.
No reader at all familiar wit M. Sardou’s dramatic compositions need be advised that his last work but one — “Rabagas” being his freshest
– is by no means his best. Apart from the lack of ingenuity shown in the creation and development of the plot ; the language of the original libretto — for there is much music in “King Carrot” — is of the commonest sort. Mr. Daly has made good use of the material at his disposal ; and, if we except some allusions to politics, provoking demonstrations which playgoers do not attend the theatres to witness, his dialogue is not a whit more trashy than that of the
original scenario. It is justice to M. Sardou to say that M. Offenbach has not outdone himself, either, in the tunes written, for the spectacle. The airs are vivacious enough, but of all the numbers there is none likely to cops in popularity with the sentimental songs of the ear-taking couplets and choruses of his earlier operas. A closer acquaintance with the score, resulting from attendance at after representations of “King Carrot,” may bring about a partial revision of
this opinion. But it is impossible at present to pronounce the words or the notes of “King Carrot” worthy of their author and composer.
As a vehicle for the display of fine scenery and elegant dresses, we can write, we are glad to say, with less reserve. Though much can
and will be done in the matter of making many of the scenic effects more impressive, by an increased rapidity in changes, by a batter
disposition of the masses, and by a more skillful [4] management of the lights, parts of “King Carrot” were gorgeous pictures, and fully deserved the evidences of admiration which marked their exhibition. The scenery throughout the four acts is exceedingly beautiful and elaborate, and the costumes are new, accurate and glittering. The first tableau in act the second ; the view of reanimated Pompeii — a
view of which we much fear local audiences are not quite fitted to appreciate the fidelity in the matter of the actors’ attire — and the Island of Monkeys, were most conspicuous among many sets. The presentation of the picture last cited afforded an opportunity for the introduction of a score of apes, whose antics produced more
merriment than any of the events of the night.
To the interpretation of “King Carrot” we must allude with even greater brevity than bas been observed in handling the foregoing subjects. Miss Rose Hersée embodies Rosee du Soir, and sings exquisitely the music allotted to her. Mrs. John Wood does wonders with the character of Robin Luron, whose lines and duties are
quite beneath her. Miss Emma Howson is more than equal to the songs settdown [5] to Cunegonde, but the mild Princess she portrays bears a very slight resemblance to the lady of the period,
whose characteristics are so clearly indicated by her language that we are, rather surprised the part should have been assigned to so accomplished a songstress and so quiet a comédienne [6]. The principal male performers are Mr. John Brougham, Mr. Stuart Robson, Mr. Robert Craig and Mr. J. F. Ketchtum. If Mr. Brougham where to make it a specialty [7] to insure bad plays against failure by figuring in them, there would be hope for the mostt mediocre of dramatic authors. His stage experience and his personal popularity are unfailing protection for this artist from the consequences of unworthy rôles.
We are secure in our belief that Mr. Brougham was never assigned to a more thankless duty than that involved in the personation [8] of King Carrot. The artist’s presence and spirit, it is pleasant to say, delighted the public. Mr. Robson’s acting afforded immense amusement. As Truck, Secretary of Magic to Fridolin, his practical sayings and doings provoked the heartiest laughter. Mr. Craig embodied Friolin, and Mr. Ketchum, almost unheeded, supplied some
neat bits of stage-business in the subsidiary character of Baron Koffre, the Minister of Finance. It only remains to add to this notice that the Mafiltons repeated in the second act the marvelous feats which have become familiar, but which never weary, so deftly are they executed. A reception of the most enthusiastic kind awaited, and
they were recalled time and again. “King Carrot” is to hold the bills, of course, until further advices.
