THEATRE REVIEWS

7. The Shadow of the Sword (1881)

The Shadow of the Sword
by Robert Buchanan and John Coleman* (adapted from Buchanan’s novel, The Shadow of the Sword).
Brighton: Theatre Royal. 9 May, 1881. Followed by provincial tour.
London: Olympic Theatre. 8 April, 1882 to unknown date. (Final Times advert, 19 April, 1882. Next production at the Olympic, Moths, 27 April, 1882).

*There was an exchange of letters between Buchanan and Coleman in The Era following the London premiere at the Olympic Theatre, which does indicate that Coleman had a hand in the adaptation of Buchanan’s original draft.

The Stage (13 May, 1881 - p.5)

Shadow of the Sword.
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FIRST PRODUCED AT THEATRE ROYAL, BRIGHTON, MAY 9TH.

(FROM OUR OWN CORRESPONDENT.)

     Cynics who prophesied the decline of the drama were ignorant of the beautiful inspirations that the English stage possesses, and though the airing of Mr. Robert Buchanan’s romantic historical five act play, the Shadow of the Sword, occupied four hours on Monday evening, the audience, which filled every portion of the vast auditorium to excess, testified by their rapt attention and enthusiastic applause their admiration for a work that has more than histrionic claims on our sympathy, as it illustrates the horrors of war in a sensible and strong light and when a few judicious emendations are made Mr. Buchanan’s earliest contribution to the Gentleman’s Magazine will, as a play, add immensely to the popularity of the writer. The principal personages were vociferously called for at the close of each act, and hearty acknowledgements proclaimed the success of the drama when the curtain fell, close upon midnight, all present having remained till the climax.
     The events serve to display the best points in the story, which occupies the period between the evacuation of Moscow and the banishment of Buonaparte to Elba. The scenes are in the wild village of Kromlaix, in Bretagne, where the Russian campaign has obliged the Conservative Senate of Paris to embody the conscripts. Christmas-day dawns, and there the Widow Gwenfern, the relict of a soldier, put to death by the policy of the consul, is called on by her brother, Corporal Derval, a one-legged veteran of the Empire, to quaff the health of the “Little Corporal,” who, with all the ardour of a soldier, he worships. His wronged sister disdains to honour the tyrant, and Mickell Grallon, a wealthy smuggler, who has fallen in love with Marcelle Deval, the betrothed of Rohan Gwenfern ascertaining her principles determines to make use of his knowledge to wreck the happiness of the pair. Guinevere, the widow’s daughter, the affianced of Gildas, a foolish country lad, becomes jealous of the German girls attached to the army, and goes in search of her lover. Marcelle welcomes her uncle Derval, who insists on the supremacy of the Emperor, while Grallon inspired with selfishness, urges Marcelle to become his wife; rejected by her he learns that she is the promised bride of Rohan, who soon after arrives with the branch of amity to receive the paternal blessing, avowing his love of liberty and peace. The veteran picks a quarrel on the ground of his nephew’s folly. The discussion is disposed of by the arrival of the village Curé and the Schoolmaster, who pronounce the glad tidings. The villagers disperse, and on the resumption of the argument Rohan’s principals are shunned by the veteran, who excitedly absorbs his better feelings in the moodiness of passion. Marcelle, who has been Rohan’s playmate, recapitulates the legend of accepting a husband on condition that he bears her an egg stolen from the Black Eagle’s nest near St. Gilda’s cave; at the same time reciprocating her affection, Rohan takes part in the merrymaking. The schoolmaster, who has encountered the widow’s elder son, Philip, a deserter form the army at Marcellaise, breaks the news to the happy pair at the same moment that the outcast confronts Rohan, telling the motive of his escape. Philip craves concealment. The guards in pursuit, directed by Grallon and Sergeant Pipriac are advancing, when the Gwenferns lower Philip over the cliff, urging him to remain in the cavern. Rohan refuses to deliver up his brother, and curses the tyrant Emperor. The gendarmes overpower the brave fisherman, and he falls senseless to the ground by a blow from the unscrupulous Grallon. Perceiving his brother’s peril, Philip shows himself and surrenders, receiving the pastor’s blessing amid the deepest distress, Philip is torn from home to be shot as a spy and deserter. The approach of the General revives the veteran’s hope in the Emperor’s mercy, and he abjures Rohan to plead for his brother’s life. The Corsican on his grey charger, surrounded by guards, seems deaf to the lamentations of Rohan. He gives the signal to march as the noble fellow falls insensible. The incidents of the second section occur on May day, 1813. Guinevere, while diligent at the spinning wheel, recalls the pleasures of courting in the “morning time” in a graceful ballad. Grallon, decked in his best, discovers why Dame Gwenfern wishes the consummation of the nuptials. The drawing for the conscription takes place, and Grallon secretly influences the authorities. Confident of success, he vows to quell his jealousy in drink. While the dancers are carousing, and bringing in Marcelle, crowned Queen of the May with garlands, the Widow, led by Guinevere, totters in pale and suffering. The morning meal prepared, Arfoll arrived and relates the end of Philip, which to him is like the new Rachel weeping for her children, uncomforted. Presently Marcelle, who has drawn her lover “King” of the conscripts, brings in the news and the badge of the Empire. To her astonishment he swears never to support the tyrant, and stamps on his token of authority. Stricken to the heart with grief, the alarmed widow, reviling the tyrant, falls dead in the arms of Rohan, who takes a terrible oath as he curses the crowned assassin, and prophesies his exile. Consequent on his refractory conduct, a reward of ten thousand francs, in the third act, urges Grallon to track Rohan, who, having overpowered the troopers, has fled to St. Gilda’s Cave, after attending the interment of the remains of his mother. Without aid and insensible, he is found by Marcelle, concealed in the cavern, and she and the Schoolmaster devise a scheme for escaping with him from Brest to Jersey, and thence to America. Grallon, overhearing their plans, informs the authorities. The fugitive, dreaming within the cave of the devastation of the destroyer, is awakened by Marcelle, who in her boat brings food and wine, and the plan of escape. They are surprised by the troopers through the treachery of Grallon, who accuses the woman of aiding in her lover’s getting away, he having withdrawn himself up the gully. Confident of acceptance, he offers to shelter Rohan, provided Marcelle becomes the smuggler’s wife. His infamous proposal she rejects, and, while he signals to the soldiers, escapes by the rope thrown to her by Rohan. Stung to the quick when Grallon denounces Rohan a coward, the outcast, forgetful of every object but honour, jumps from the parapet, and, but for his sense of shedding blood, would sacrifice the wretch to his fury. In the midst of the melee, Rohan defies his pursuers, and jumps from the cliff into the sea, having first secured the safety of Marcelle. Believing Rohan dead, Marcelle mourns his end; unknown to her he has been revived by Arfoll and Father Dolland near the village, where the masses for the dead are being celebrated in the Church of the Virgin. Grallon, on the watch, denounces the youth as a deserter, but just then the decadial tempest bursts forth and the mountain torrents threaten to sweep the island. The villain is in ecstacy, but Rohan, who has been arrested, gives his parole to the sergeant to surrender, if permitted to save Marcelle, who, alarmed by the rising of the angry waters, offers prayers for succour. Presently she hears her lover’s voice, who, climbing on to the balcony, lashes her to some spars and springs with her into the inundation, guiding the fragile structure over the troubled elements to safety. After the storm has subsided, prayers are offered in the cloister for the survivors. Gilda meets his uncle, returned gory but not glorious. Guinevere at length consents to their union. A stormy interview occurs between Marcelle and Grallon, whose perfidious character she has learnt. The sergeant’s arrival defeats the villain’s despicable scheme. Rohan, surrendering to his trust, prepares to die. However, the officer allows him a last interview with Marcelle, and when the priest appears to shrive him, she with her mother’s ring becomes the wife of the doomed deserter. Struck with his courage, the Sergeant despises the General’s orders and arrests the smuggler as a traitor. All being prepared, Rohan is led out to be shot, when, just as the signal to fire is about to be given, Arfoll, who has been to Paris, opportunely arrives with the pardon of the Bourbons for all political offences, the news of Buonaparte’s fall and exile to Elba, while Rohan and Marcelle united are allowed to live out of the fear of the shadow of the sword.
     Mr. John Coleman, with his manly face and stalwart figure, acted with all the true eloquence of his nature as Rohan; his clear and very beautiful voice was appropriate to the bold, careless, loving fellow, teeming with patriotic zeal and paternal affection. The success of this talented artiste was immense. Mr. Arthur Lyle made a remarkably trusty schoolmaster, while the sleek and unscrupulous smuggler, smarting beneath the pangs of despised passion and cowardice was well portrayed by Mr. A. Lucas as Grallon. Mr. F. Hope Meriscord was a sympathetic Cure. Mr. George Chaplin carefully personated the deserter Philip; Miss Helen May effectively represented the persecuted widow. Miss Clarissa Ash was the buoyant Guinevere, Mr. S. Artand the generous Sergeant. Mr. P. Gordon as the wooden legged veteran was realistic, and Mr. H. Dalton was a very comical countryman Gildas. There was no lack of interest in Miss Alice Finch, who impersonated the devoted orphan Marcelle Derval with earnestness and intelligence, and fairly startled the audience by her animated and resolute acting as the buxom villager. Mr. Kessler had composed sixty-four numbers for the piece and a characteristic overture, which received hearty welcomes.
     The scenes were well staged, and the costumes, &c. in keeping with the drama, which has been repeated through this week.

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The New York Times (4 June, 1881)

..... “The Shadow of the Sword” has been produced at Brighton. It was a most complete failure. Mr. Buchanan himself wrote it upon the lines of his novel, which is, in its way, quite a modern classic.

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Reynolds’s Newspaper (9 April, 1882 - Issue 1652)

YESTERDAY’S THEATRICALS.

OLYMPIC THEATRE.

     When “The Shadow of the Sword” was first produced, last May, at the Theatre Royal, Brighton, it did not win a very favourable verdict. It was too diffuse, and the dialogue was found lacking in poetical idea. Last night’s performance, however, showed that the plot had been compressed within more reasonable limits, although the literary defects of the piece are still wearisomely apparent. The first act opens at a Brittany village on Christmas-day. Here Rohan Gwenfern (Mr. John Coleman) is found supporting his mother. Gwenfern is a fisherman, and in love with Marcelle Derral (Miss Margaret Young), a lowly beauty, boasting another lover in the person of Mickell Grallon (Mr. T. Balfour), who is as sumptuously blessed with this world’s stores as Rohan is ill-provided. Philip Gwenfern, Rohan’s brother, is in the army, deserts, and only comes home to be confronted with “Le Petit Caporal,” who summarily orders him to be shot, a sentence which brings the first act to a weak melodramatic conclusion. In the second act Rohan has the ill-luck to be drawn for a conscript, and in the third act wanders into a seaside cave, apparently for the purpose of enabling the stage-carpenter at the Olympic to unwind a panorama showing the downfall of Napoleon. Before the act closes, unlucky Mickell Grallon gets shot, a catastrophe which clears the way for Rohan’s union with Marcelle. In the fourth act Rohan bravely rescues his sweetheart by means of a raft, the country being flooded; but in the fifth act he is discovered guarded with soldiers, and on the eve of meeting the same fate as his brother. Just at this moment the prediction of the panorama comes true. Napoleon falls, and Rohan is liberated, to make, let us hope, a better husband for Marcelle than the author has succeeded in writing a piece. The cast was creditably filled. Mr. John Coleman, as at Brighton, made an effective Rohan, rather too stilted for an ideal lover, but full of careful acting and showing a good study of the part. Miss Margaret Young was hardly equal to the task of portraying the village beauty to whom Rohan plighted his troth. As the widowed mother, Miss Robertha Erskine played with skill and effect, and her impersonation was decidedly a good one. The rest of the characters hardly call for comment, though a word of praise is due to the horses on which Napoleon (why was not this actor’s name to be found in the bill?) and his staff rode on the stage in the first act, the Corsican being attired in the famous suit he used when he—pictorially—crossed the Alps. The “Shadow of the Sword” was well mounted, and the appointment, except a wobbling moon in the first act, left little to be desired, whatever opinion might be held about the large number of scriptural quotations which embellish the dialogue, or of the fine assortment of curses. The can-can ballet at the end of the second act is vivacious, and as the stage is crowded with people, it leads to regret that so poor an imitation of the Adelphi drama should have had such evident pains spent on staging it. At the end of the third act Mr. Coleman came forward and apologized for the prolonged “waits” between the scenes. This was owing, he alleged, to the freaks of some workmen, whom he had to discharge on Thursday, and to whose defection was due his consequent inability to produce the drama as perfectly as could be wished. Mr. Harris, however, had kindly come to his assistance with a body of men from Drury-lane Theatre, and by working the whole of Friday night everything had been done that was possible under the circumstances. His speech was noisily interrupted both by the pit and the gallery.

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Lloyd’s Weekly Newspaper (9 April, 1882 - Issue 2055)

OLYMPIC
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     The production last night of Mr. Robert Buchanan’s Shadow of the Sword was not attended with any great enthusiasm on the part of the audience. To begin with, the curtain rose half-an-hour after the appointed time, and the development of the piece revealed a decidedly romantic, but weakly-written melodrama—the period, the First Empire, and the purpose, a protest against war. The “Shadow of the Sword” is the shadow that Napoleon’s ambition cast over France. In its gloom is gathered the family of a widow whose husband first and sons next fall victims to “glory.” The last son, Rohan, is an apostle of peace, but he, too, is torn from his home on conscription, but with lion courage against great odds and the war fever of the time he asserts in his person a protest against the man he regards as the murderer of his kindred. He deserts and becomes a fugitive, and of his perils and escapes the piece is made up. There are some sensation scenes—which last night took so long to set as to entail tedious “waits,” but this was explained by Mr. Coleman, who in a speech said that owing to a difficulty with his carpenters he had been compelled to rely upon the assistance of the employés of a neighbouring house, rendered at the last moment. In the development of the story there was much that is sensational, and applause, not always judicious, greeted the stronger situations, but the promise of the play was poor. Mr. Coleman sustained the part of Rohan with some vigour and energy, and Mr. Henry George was Master Arfrell, the schoolmaster, who inspires Rohan with his anti-war doctrines. Miss Robertha Erskine and Miss Margaret Young sustained the leading female parts. The play which is new to London, was originally brought out at Brighton on the 9th of May last year.

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The Times (10 April, 1882 - p.8)

OLYMPIC.

     Mr. Robert Buchanan’s “Shadow of the Sword” was a powerful novel. Its scene was laid on the iron-bound coast of Brittany, among the cromlechs and mouldering memorials of the Druidic age; white-capped girls and hardy fishermen moved through its pages, industrious, tuneful, and cheery, but having always impending over their heads the dread of the conscription, the shadow of the sword of the First Napoleon. We should have said that such a novel would form an excellent basis for a melodrama. In fact, the conscription scene which Mr. Boucicault successfully added at the Adelphi a year and a half ago to The Maid of Croissey forcibly reminded us, as we wrote at the time, of Mr. Buchanan’s Breton novel. But surmises must give way to actual experience; and if the experience of Saturday night at the Olympic Theatre is any guide, it must be confessed that “The Shadow of the Sword” in its dramatic form is a failure. It was produced under disheartening circumstances. Scenic effects were Intended to form an important feature in the representation. The management had a disagreement with the workmen, and new hands from Drury Lane came at the last moment. In the result, although the performance was advertised to begin at the comparatively late hour of 7 45, it was commenced, in a thin house, half an hour later. With depressing intervals between the acts, it went on for four hours, and when, half an hour after midnight, a few enthusiasts who remained in the gallery shouted for the author, Mr. Buchanan was well advised not to make his appearance. The play deals with a popular theme. It is a protest against ambitious war. The hero, a Herculean peasant of Brittany, whose father has been poisoned, as he believes, in hospital by Bonaparte, and whose brother has been shot because he refused to join in fusillading a Vendean seigneur, declines to join the Grand Army, although drawn by the fatal lot of the conscription. Strengthened in his resolve by the exhortations of a wandering pastor to concern himself in no deeds of blood, he lies hid in crevices of the rock, and climbs as a consummate cragsman to otherwise inaccessible recesses among the dripping stalactites and stalagmites of an ocean cave. At night he steals forth, and, lurking among the ruins of Carnac, seems to the astonished wayfarer a being of the elder world re-visiting the emblems of a worship which is extinct. To relieve the grandeur and mystery of this sombre figure a woman’s love is entwined with his fate; her and many others he saves from the great flood which on All Soul’s Eve desolates the Breton coast; and then, having emerged from his hiding-place for this work of humanity, he gives himself up to the guard and is about to be shot. But while still hiding in his lonely cavern underneath St. Michael’s Mount he has seen in a vision the coming fate of the Emperor, who has blasted his happiness and that of his family. He has seen in sleep the skies reddened with the flames of the Kremlin, the Grand Army straggling homewards through the snow, and that resistless uprising of the peoples which Professor Seeley has christened the Anti-Napoleonic Revolution. The prophecy of his dreams is fulfilled. The King returns in time to save the rebel against the Emperor. The materials to which we have now referred would seem ample for a melodrama, if skilfully combined. But that is a large “if.” Supposing even the work of the playwright to have been efficiently performed, that of the stage machinist was so backward at the Olympic that justice could not be done to the larger effort of invention, which needs carpenters as well as actors and painters for its due manifestation. To criticize a production so unfinished is labour in vain; had the first night been postponed, the representation might have been very different and much more satisfactory. The work has been played in the country with, we believe, more success. The company were at a disadvantage between scenes which descended when they should have risen, and a curtain which oscillated for two or three minutes betwixt falling and not falling whenever a point was made. The grouping was well studied, and the pathetic interest of the comparatively well-prepared first act found a response in the tears of one or two, at least, in the audience. Mr. John Coleman played the hero, Rohan; Miss Margaret Young the heroine, Marcelle Derval; Mr. John Collier represented a veteran who has retired from the army with a wooden leg and a store of tedious oaths and anecdotes; Mr. Brittain Booth impersonated an honest sergeant of gendarmerie. Miss Clarissa Ash played a peasant lass with a song; and one or two local chants were skilfully introduced from Mrs. Tom Taylor’s musical arrangement of the ballads of Brittany.

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The Scotsman (10 April, 1882 - p.5)

“The Shadow of the Sword,” by Mr Buchanan, which has already been taken round the provinces, was produced at the Olympic to-night, but in a somewhat perfunctory fashion, and with but little success.

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The Era (15 April, 1882 - Issue 2273)

THE OLYMPIC.
On Saturday, April 8th,
“THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD.”

Pipriac     . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .     Mr BRITTAIN BOOTH
Corporal Derval     . . . . . . . . . .     Mr JOHN COLLIER
Gildas Derval     . . . . . . . . . . . .     Mr H. DALTON
Master Arfoll     . . . . . . . . . . . .     Mr HENRY GEORGE
Mickell Grallon  . . . . . . . . . . . .     Mr THEO BALFOUR
Philip Gwenfern    . . . . . . . . . . .     Mr HARRY DUNDAS
Rohan      . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .     Mr JOHN COLEMAN
The Widow Gwenfern  . . . . . . .     Miss ROBERTHA ERSKINE
Guinevere       . . . . . . . . . . . . . .     Miss CLARISSA ASH
Marcelle Derval    . . . . . . . . . . .     Miss MARGARET YOUNG

     Mr Robert Buchanan, more fortunate than most dramatic authors, was represented at two theatres on Saturday last, but the circumstances under which The Shadow of the Sword was presented at the Olympic were not calculated to impress the playgoer favourably. No doubt want of preparation was the principal cause of the lamentable results witnessed at the Olympic on Saturday night, and if it be true that there was only one rehearsal we can understand, in some measure, why the scenic and mechanical effects so often disappointed the audience and caused exclamations of impatience. A weary half-hour passed away after the time announced for the commencement of the piece, and, upon an average, half-an-hour elapsed between each act, so that the audience became smaller and smaller until half-past twelve, when at last the long-suffering playgoers departed from the theatre with, we fear, a very confused notion as to The Shadow of the Sword and the personages who appeared in it; for, with the best intentions, the performers could do but little under such circumstances t make the rambling and long-winded story intelligible. After the sensation scene in the third act Mr Coleman came forward and stated that the cause of the defects was due to the conduct of the workpeople, and had it not been for the kindness of Mr Augustus Harris, who sent him assistance from Drury-lane Theatre, the performance could not have taken place at all. Comments more emphatic than polite followed, but generally the audience accepted the explanation with good humour and appeared disposed to grant every indulgence. We have since visited the theatre, and it is only fair to state that the difficulties respecting the scenic effects are now overcome, and some striking, if not very novel, scenes are represented with smoothness, and in all probability they would if thus given on the first night have secured the entire approval of the audience. The Shadow of the Sword was originally produced at Brighton on the 9th of May last. The locale is fixed at Kromlax, a village on the coast of Brittany, which, at the rise of the curtain, is presented in a garb of snow, the time being Christmas Day. The widow Gwenfern, whose husband has been killed, and whose younger son Philip is still serving in the army, depends for support on her remaining son, Rohan, a fisherman, who, for family reasons, is inveterate in his hatred of the “Little Corporal” and his continual warfare; Corporal Derval, a retired veteran, his uncle, being loud in his praise of Napoleon and his policy; Master Arfoll, schoolmaster, and Father Rolland, the village curé, preaching the doctrines of the Peace Society. An additional inducement to Rohan’s following a peaceful calling is his love for Marcelle Derval, and their love-making fills the greater portion of act one. A rival is found in Mickell Grallon, a wealthy fisherman, who perseveres in his pursuit throughout the piece. The closing incidents of act one are the return of Philip, wounded whilst deserting, his re-arrest, and the resistance offered by his brother Rohan to his capture. The Emperor and escort appear upon the scene, pardon for Philip is prayed, but refused, and the curtain falls to he sound of the shot that announces the deserter’s death. The scene in which Napoleon appears is fairly effective and three real horses are introduced. But the drawback is that the mimic Napoleon has not a word to say for himself. The most frantic appeals of the wretched maiden only win from him a movement of the left hand while with the right he signals for the advance of the troops. The second act opens with a little mild comic business between Guinevere, who is afterwards made love to by Gildas Derval, a yokel who is perpetually drunk, and altogether unsuited to so fair a maid. A rustic dance of Breton peasants in this scene was encored. The Spring Festival, which was also to have brought the nuptial day of Rohan and Marcelle, then commences; but is brought to an abrupt conclusion by the announcement that a new conscription takes place that day. Marcelle, confiding in her good fortune, draws for her lover; but her luck is evidently out, as she draws him No. 1, and he is installed King of the Conscripts. He tramples on the tricoloured badge, and denounces the Emperor in a curse of great length and malignity, his mother meanwhile appearing upon the scene and expiring from the shock of losing her only son. Now, respecting this curse we have something to say. The use of Scriptural sentences upon the stage must under any circumstances be objectionable, but when they are employed to call down the most appalling vengeance upon a human being that can well be imagined we must emphatically protest. The hero, first demanding that the Supreme Being shall awaken to punish the French Emperor, continues his speech still in Bible language until it becomes shockingly repulsive; as, for example, when, after imploring for every curse that can fall upon a man in this life, he craves that the tortures of the damned, “where the worm dieth not and the eternal fires are never extinguished,” shall visit Napoleon hereafter. Admitting all the horrors of war and the crimes of the famous conqueror, we still think that this language is not fitted for the stage. The schoolmaster also, who wanders about for no earthly purpose but to tell bad news and make fearfully long and prosy speeches, is constantly introducing Scriptural passages having not the slightest bearing upon the plot. For instance, when at Christmas time he comes to the village and says “Peace on earth and goodwill towards men,” and the rustics applaud him, his comment is “Ah, my friends, those words were sung by the angels of Heaven eighteen hundred years ago, when our Saviour was born.” If such passages aided the progress of the drama they might be tolerated, but as they do not they simply show the bad taste of the author. To continue the plot, we find in the third act Rohan in a seaside cave, where he has a dream (illustrated by a panorama cleverly painted by M. Gompertz) in which the downfall of Napoleon is foreshadowed. This panoramic effect is reduced to one scene, in which we see Napoleon on the battle field. Then the towers of Moscow, with the Destroying Angel wielding a bloody sword as the Conqueror sinks to his doom. The hero is pursued by soldiers under the guidance of Mickell Grallon, who is accidentally shot in place of Rohan. There is little that is dramatic in the fourth act, as it gives only an opportunity for Rohan to air his woes until the announcement that the floods are rising, placing Marcelle in danger. Then, in spite of being almost dead, he makes a raft and proceeds to her rescue. Act five shows us the Church of Notres Dames des Seccours, with soldiers sleeping. Rohan is about to be executed when the downfall of the Emperor is announced, and all ends happily. Taking the chief situations in this piece, and compressing them into three acts, a drama might have been written possessing certain attractions for lovers of sensational effects. But the stir, the animation, the rapid movement such a piece demands, we nowhere find in The Shadow of the Sword. Even now that there are no hitches in the scenery the play drags, and could hardly do otherwise, overloaded as it is with extracts from Holy Writ. The acting was not wholly wanting in merit. The author has given very curious descriptions of his characters. Of the heroine he says:—“She might be the daughter of some gipsy tribe, but such features as hers are common among the Celtic women of the Breton coast; and her large eyes are not gipsy black, but ethereal grey, that mystic colour which can be soft as heaven with joy and love, but dark as death with jealousy and wrath. The girl is tall and shapely, somewhat slight of figure, small handed, small footed; so that, were her cheek a little less rosy, her hands a little whiter, and her step a little less elastic, she might be a lady born.” The young lady, Miss Margaret Young, who represented the heroine, did her best to realise this picture. In a better drama she would have succeeded better, but she was certainly entitled to praise. Miss Young acted with feeling and frequently with skill. Miss Clarissa Ash was sprightly as Guinevere, and Miss Roberta Erskine gave the requisite force to the dismal scenes of the bereaved mother. Mr John Coleman had our sympathies under trying circumstances, for besides the worries behind the scenes he had a somewhat trying part. That he did not in all respects reach the author’s ideal was not his own fault, as the reader will easily imagine who peruses the author’s descriptions of his hero:—“His hair of perfect golden hue, floats to his shoulders. His head is that of a lion; the throat, the chin, leonine; and the eyes, even when they sparkle as now, have the strange, far away visionary look of the king of animals. His figure, agile as it is, is Herculean, for is he not a Gwenfern? and when since the memory of man, did a Gwenfern ever stand less than six feet in his sabots? Stripped of his raiment and turned to stone, he might stand for Hercules, so large of mould is he, so mighty of limb.” In Dickens’s “Christmas Carol,” the Miser Scrooge entreats the ghost of his old partner Marley, “Don’t be flowery Jacob,” and most earnestly do we suggest to Mr Buchanan “not to be flowery” in his descriptions of heroes and heroines. Where is the actor who could become such a stage hero as this? We must give Mr Coleman the credit he deserves for hard work and intelligence under adverse circumstances, and we hope we shall have a better account yet to give of The Shadow of the Sword. Mr Brittain Booth played with spirit as the Sergeant; and as the wooden-legged old Corporal, who is everlastingly extolling the virtues of Napoleon, Mr John Collier may be cordially praised. Mr H. Dalton has a very stupid part, but he exerted himself greatly to make it effective. Mr Balfour acted earnestly and with creditable results as Mickell; and Mr Dundas spoke the few lines given to Philip with feeling. Mr Henry George has a capital voice, and delivers his lines with clearness and decision, but he is hampered with the effort of representing a personage one always wishes away. Here is the author’s account of this prosy person:—“He was an itinerant schoolmaster, teaching from farm to farm, from field to field. An outcast, his bed the earth, his roof heaven; but the holiness of nature was upon him, and he crept from place to place like a spirit sanctifying and sanctified.” What could any actor make of such rigmarole? The greatest praise we can give the representative of the schoolmaster is that he did not bore the audience so much as might have been expected. It is hardly necessary to dwell at greater length upon the peculiarities of The Shadow of the Sword. Mr Coleman was unquestionably much to be pitied on the opening night, but under any circumstances we fear the drama would not be exhilarating.

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The New York Times (7 May, 1882)

..... Indeed, the United States has become quite a factor in theatrical business. Mr. Coleman’s chief desire was to make such an impression upon the London public with “The Shadow of the Sword” as would justify him in making a tour with it on the other side of the Atlantic. Mr. Buchanan’s dramatic reputation was never of much account, but it has been shaken to rags by his latest failures. He is certainly entitled to commiseration, for, without doubt, there is good material for the playwright in his remarkable novel of “The Shadow of the Sword.”

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The New York Times (10 June, 1882)

..... The famous Shakespearean season which Ristori is to open will also see Mr. John Coleman as Macbeth. Mr. Coleman has had a long, bitter, personal correspondence with Mr. Buchanan over the failure of “The Shadow of the Sword.” Author and actor have mutually blamed each other in the strongest of “elegant Billingsgate.” Whether “The Shadow of the Sword” was a good play or not, it seems pretty clear that Mr. Coleman had more to do with the authorship of it than Mr. Buchanan.

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[Since the first performance of The Shadow of the Sword in London coincided with the opening of  another Buchanan play, Lucy Brandon, some papers linked the two in their reviews. The reviews of The Shadow of the Sword from The Pall Mall Gazette, The Graphic and The New York Times are available on the Lucy Brandon page.]

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