A VISIT TO THE STRAND THEATRE.
WE had the comfort of witnessing an exhibition of the "legitimate drama" at one of the Minors a few nights ago. It was a pleasant thing to hear the dialogue, when spoken in the level tone of con- versation; and to discern the varying play of the features, even when expression was not exaggerated into grimace. It was in the pretty
little Strand Theatre that we saw A New Way to Pay Old Debts, —one of the powerful creations of the fantastic and uncurbed
imagination of the old English dramatists. It is like all the plays of that age, excepting only those of SHAKSPEARE, wild, extrava- gant, and unnatural. It is like one of FUSELI'S conceptions after
a supper of raw pork. Sir Giles Overreach is a" chimera dire," a
monster divested of every lineament of humanity. Human nature, God knows, is bad enough ; but the most wicked, in communing with himself, tries to call his wickedness,by a softer name, and, at
all events, pays to virtue the homage of hypocrisy. But Sir Giles Overreach glories in his atrocity ; and even draws a full-
length portrait of himself, to the man on whose favour he bases his designs, in colours which no mortal ever applied to his own character. He is represented, too, as of consummate sagacity and shrewdness; and yet he is overreached by a series of the most shallow contrivances that ever gulled an idiot. Unnatural, how- ever, as the picture is, there is an intensity of purpose, and a dis- play of fearful passion, that makes the character very striking. Its representative, Mr. ELTON, exhibited very considerable powers. His appearance and deportment were commanding, and his fea- tures full of dark and baleful expression. His voice was powerful,
but.harsh ; though the harshness was probably assumed. During the whirlwind of passion, of which the last act is made up, he sus- taMed himself nobly; reminding us of KEAN, but more, appa- rently, from similarity of conception than from imitation. Wellborn was very well played by Mr. REDE, a handsome young man. The other characters were mediocre, yet their mediocrity was sufficient to make the play pass off very pleasantly.
The little burletta, the Loves of the Angels, is very attractive, and consequently continues to attract. There is a good deal of
elegance about it, and a wit and point in the dialogue that remind
us of Midas, and other productions of the old school. There is, too, a great deal of pretty music in it—many choice bits of the
best masters, very happily adapted and introduced. The singing was unpretending, perfectly free from screaming and bawling, and without the Cockney airs and graces so much the fashion at present. But the voices were sweet and tunable; and there were both taste and delicacy in the performance.
Altogether, we have not for a long time enjoyed ourselves more than in this bandbox of a theatre (we did not wait for the Loves of the Devils); and we got home without the headache so often oc- casioned by unavailing efforts to catch more than one word in ten of what is uttered upon the stage.
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