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THE LATE MR. DOUGLAS JERROLD.

Never, probably, in any age did private theatrical performances attain such a high degree of celebrity as those that took place last winter at Tavistock-house, the residence of Mr. Charles Dickens. None were admitted to witness them, save the friends of the amateur manager, but so wide is his circle of acquaintance, and so great is the social influence held by many of the persons of whom it is composed, that the merits of the “Tavistock-house Theatricals” soon became celebrated throughout the whole literary and artistic world of London. The number who actually saw the performances did not, most likely, exceed 500, but most of them were not only talking men, but men whose talk is sure to find listeners, and hence the fact that Mr. Charles Dickens was an actor of a far higher kind than had been demonstrated by his earlier amateur performances was one of the best affirmed facts of the day. Under these circumstances it was but natural that when, on Saturday night, the “Tavistock” performances took place before such of the public as chose to visit the “Gallery of Illustration” for the benefit of the fund “in remembrance of the late Mr. Douglas Jerrold,” the long room was crowded to repletion. The Gallery, it will be remembered, is not in the shape of a theatre, but is an oblong room, the length of which far exceeds its breadth and hence the interminable series of heads presented a curious aspect to a spectator in the vicinity of the stage.

An audience which is select as well as numerous, and the humblest constituents of which pay 5s. for their places, is not apt to indulge in those noisy demonstrations of delight that are so freely given by the mixed assemblage of an ordinary theatre. But never was there a feeling of deeper and more genuine admiration than was left by Mr. Charles Dickens in the minds of his auditors at the conclusion of Mr. Wilkie Collin's drama the Frozen Deep. There was literally a gasp of applause when the curtain descended, and the conversation that ensued during the interval that preceded the farce was composed of a laudatory criticism of details. To gain the cool, deliberate approbation of such an audience was no small triumph. The ringleaders of conversation on such occasions are men who, to use a common phrase, are “up to everything,” especially in matters connected with public amusement, and whose organ of veneration is by no means largely developed. They would rather grasp an opportunity for quizzing the ridiculous than seize an occasion for admiring the sublime. When such as these not only murmur forth their admiration, but discuss the causes of it, who among an audience could raise a dissentient voice?

The performance of Mr. Dickens as the vindictive and (afterwards) penitent Richard Wardour is, in the truest sense of the word, a creation. Nay, we may go further and say that it is the creation of a literary man—that it is doubtful whether any mere actor, unless under the influence of some extraordinary sympathy with the part assumed, would attempt to fill up an outline with that elaborate detail that is introduced by Mr. Dickens into Mr. Collins's sketch. We feel that if Mr. Dickens had had to describe in narrative form the situations of the Frozen Deep, instead of acting them, he would have covered whole pages in recording those manifestations of emotion, which, not having his pen in his hand, he now makes by the minutest variations of voice and gesture. Where an ordinary artist would look for “points” of effect he looks for “points” of truth. A specimen of humanity in which every twitch of every muscle can be accounted for is to be presented with all the elaboration of actual nature, no matter whether it be admired or not. When Richard Wardour tells the story of his disappointment in love there is ample opportunity for much noisy grief and many a stride to the footlights, but Mr. Dickens dares to keep down his voice through the whole of the narrative. The effect may be monotonous,—but what of that? He who talks not for the sake of display, but simply that he may relieve his mind from an oppressive and almost humiliating burden, will necessarily be monotonous. A man louder under the sense of wrong would have excited less uneasiness in his confidant. But such a man as Mr. Dickens presents—a man strong in the command of his voice, but weak in suppressing the language of his eyes and facial muscles—a man whose constant attempts to hide the internal storm by slight simulations of good fellowship only renders more conspicuous the vastness of that which he would conceal—a man who has a habit of losing his temper in a manner that mere external circumstances do not warrant—such a man is a just object of terror. Richard Wardour, as depicted by Mr. Dickens in the second act of the Frozen Deep, is the most perfect representation of dogged vindictiveness that the imagination could conceive.

In the third act so intricate is the web of emotions that he unfolds that in a verbal description no more than an Indication of the various threads that compose it can be attempted. Richard Wardour and the object of his hate have departed together on an excursion during their sojourn in the Arctic Regions, and when the “expedition” has arrived, on its return, at Newfoundland, both have disappeared together, and it is supposed that one has murdered the other.

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Suddenly a wild figure, arrayed in tatters makes its appearance. This is Richard himself who has not only spared the life of his rival, when it was completely within his clutch, but has laboured magnanimously to preserve him, for the sake of the lady whom they both love, when he might easily have let him die off without incurring blood-guiltiness. When the magnanimity of Richard is fully established he dies in the arms of his friend and his beloved. Now, throughout the whole of this situation Richard, by dint of moral and physical suffering, is in a state of downright insanity, and he is compelled to reveal the generosity of his soul through all the impediment of a mental fog. All sorts of emotions are to be portrayed under a stratum of madness, and at last this is to be flung aside. By the most accurate attention in fitting every articulation and gesture to the circumstances of this complicated position Mr. Dickens solves the intricate problem, and presents a solution which taxes the attention to the utmost, so high is the value of every one of his details. Such a deliberate creation on the part of the actor can only be appreciated by the most careful study on the part of the spectator.

Of the company generally, with the exception of Mr. Dickens and two others, it may be fairly said that they are clever amateurs, though there is much genuine pathos in the acting of the ladies. The two who besides Mr. Dickens are worthy of comparison with any members of the theatrical profession, are Mr. Mark Lemon, whose representation of a bluff naval officer is a good sound unaffected “bit” of nature, and Mr. Augustus Egg, whose humour, as the grumbling ship's cook, John Want, is at once unexaggerated and characteristic.

The scenic effects, which, under the superintendence of Messrs. Stanfield and Telbin, were deemed perfect at Tavistock-house, were transferred to the “Gallery of Illustration” on the occasion of the performance, and as a proof of the zeal by which the management was actuated we have only to record the fact that the preparation of the stage did not commence till Mr. and Mrs. T. G. Reed had completed their ordinary entertainment in the afternoon, and left the coast clear for amateur operations.

We subjoin the cast of the Frozen Deep and the farce that followed it, with the information that the performance will be repeated, still for the benefit of the “Jerrold Fund,” on Saturday, the 25th inst.:—

THE FROZEN DEEP. Captain Ebsworth, of the Sea Mew Mr. Edward Pigott. Captain Helding, of the Wanderer Mr. Alfred Dickens. Lieutenant Crayford Mr. Mark Lemon. Frank Aldersley Mr. Wilkie Collins. Richard Wardour Mr. Charles Dickens. Lieutenant Steventon Mr. Young Charles. John Want, Ship' Cook Mr. Augustus Egg. Bateson Mr. Shirley Brooks. Darker Two of the Sea Mew' People Mr. Frederick Evans. (Officers and Crews of the Sea Mew and Wanderer.) Mrs. Steventon Miss Helen. Rose Ebsworth Miss Kate. Lucy Crayford Miss Hogarth. Clara Burnham Miss Mary. Nurse Esther Mrs. Francis. Maid Miss Marley. UNCLE JOHN. Nephew Hawk Mr. Wilkie Collins. Edward Easel Mr. Frederick Evans. Uncle John Mr. Charles Dickens. Friend Thomas Mr. Mark Lemon. Andrew Mr. Young Charles. Niece Hawk Miss Hogarth. Eliza Miss Kate. Mrs. Comfort Miss Mary.