Academy of Music.
The sensation drama of the Hidden Hand was well played last evening to a good house.
To-night a complimentary and farewell benefit will be given to Miss Sallie St. Clair and Mr. Charles Barras. The bill is one of extraordinary attraction, comprising the comedy of the Hypochondriac and the drama of Jessie Brown. The comedy is one of the richest pieces of humor every put on the stage, and contains in it more food for hearty laughter than we ever saw packed into one play. The personation of “Vertigo Morbid,” by Mr. Charles Barras is unique, and his every look and action convulses the audience. The Hypochondriac was played twice last week, and each time the audience made the building ring with laughter and applause. Such an opportunity for a genuine laugh seldom occurs, and to-night is the very last chance.
The drama of Jessie Brown, or the Siege of Lucknow is a very pretty and touching piece, partly military and partly domestic. It has always met with great success. This piece and the comedy make up a bill that has been rarely equalled in attraction. It will also be the last chance of seeing those talented artists, Miss Sallie St. Clair and Mr. Charles Barras, as they leave tomorrow for Buffalo.
The N.Y. Herald, in criticizing a recent performance of the play of Jessie Brown, says:
In the part of Jessie Brown, around which so much interest naturally circles, we confess that Miss Sallie St. Clair took us by surprise. Admirable as her delineations are in everything she undertakes, and versatile as she has proved herself, we were not prepared to hear the Scotch dialect spoken in such perfection as it is only to be met with in a thoroughly Scotch woman, nor to witness such variety and force in the rendition as the part imperatively demands for a faithful portraiture. It was to the life, the noble hearted, cheerful, brave and patriotic girl, around whose history clings the beautiful episode upon which the plot is founded. The applause throughout the piece was almost constant, but when dark despair had gathered its folds close around the little band of beleagared women and children and worn soldiers—all fainting for want of food—and the hellish hordes without the frail fort were watching like wolves for their prey—in that moment when the ear of Jessie, rendered delicate and sensitive through a wasting fever, caught the far off notes of succor—the drone of the bagpipes—and she arose and exclaimed, ‘Diana ye hear the Slogan’—the wildest applause we ever heard in a theatre broke spontaneously from the audience, and continued without intermission through the gallant charge and final tableaux. See it by all means.
Daily Cleveland Herald, May 2, 1862