Olympic Theatre

     “To see her [Mrs. John Wood] in the best possible light our readers have only to witness the farce produced last evening called ‘Who Killed Cock Robin.’  That momentous question of the nursery has not been set at rest, any more than that graver theme of who inflicted an outrage on the late Mr. William Patterson.  Still the author of this excellent piece has gained his end—which was laughter; and more than his end in supplying Mrs. John Wood with a part in which she is absolutely perfect.  The name of Satanella Tinkle barely suggests the tropics.  Her father was a muffin baker; a profession, trade or business which surely relieves the mind from all thoughts of romance.  Yet the fair Satanella was nursed beneath the shadows of the halls of Montezumas.  The consequences are dreadful to tell.  She inherits not merely the merits of the father whose business was muffins, but of the Mexican mother whose business we take it was jumping down people’s throats.  She is wild as a lioness at one moment, and trivial as a muffin bell at another.  When the piece opens she is in raptures with a lover named Robin.  The latter, however, has tasted the qualities of his sweetheart and prefers a milder article elsewhere—at 10 ½ Great Jones-street, to be exact.  He therefore sends a hardy friend to take his place.  Jack Raggett, the individual in question, invents a fib appropriate to the occasion.  He says that Robin has been killed in a duel, in which he was his second.  Subsequently, the matter becomes involved in the miraculous way known only to farce-writers, and the lady believes that Jack is the man who killed Robin.  Thereupon she resolves to marry him, in order that she may work out her revenge, according to the rites officially established by Mr. Alfred Tennyson.  When married, she puts in operation all sorts of little annoyances, very amusing to the audience and irritating to the sufferer.  In the end, and when matters are becoming serious, an explanation is made, and the parties become jollily satisfied with each other.

     The author of this piece is not named, but unless he be old as Methusaleh, he deserves to be encouraged.  He is, we take it, English, but he has had an American editor, whose knowledge of geography extends even to Hoboken.  Together, they have produced a farce of unusual merit—a farce in which, amid the greatest merriment, there is not a suggestion of coarseness.  The “business” is, to a great extent, new, and in every way good; the complications are rapid and not forced.  Finally, the character played by Mrs. John Wood is strongly limned, and would fill worthily a much more imposing frame.

     There is nothing to be said of Mrs. Wood, except that she was admirable.  Mr. E. L. Davenport did not know his part, which is enough of him.  It is proper, however, to record a mot—evidently original and the result of a powerful mental effort.  His stage name, it will be remembered, is Jack, and Jack leaving his wife in anger appears suddenly at the door, saying: “Mrs. John—Mrs. John Wood, &c., (which being interpreted means Mrs. Jack—Mrs. Jack would you, &c.)  We consider it very fine, and hope that other eminent artists will follow Mr. Davenport’s example of not knowing their parts and gagging their way out of the difficulty.

     Notwithstanding, the piece was acted with spirit.  Mr. Stoddart was excellent, as he always is, and Miss Eliza Newton did the little that is allotted to her very well.”

     Music not mentioned.  Plot summary included.  The opening performance was postponed from Monday due to Davenport’s illness.  “We never saw a piece go off so smoothly on a first night, and meet with such demonstrations of genuine applause as did this same ‘Cock Robin.’ It is one of the best written farces witnessed in New York for many a day.”