Although Mr. Daly has expended much labor and money upon his elaborate revival of Shakespeare's delightful comedy of Twelfth Night, and is entitled on that account to credit and gratitude, it must be confessed that the result is disappointing, inasmuch as the general richness of the setting excites expectations with regard to the acting which, unfortunately, are not always realized. The eye of the spectator is pleased continually by a series of glittering and attractive stage pictures, and by many evidences of artistic taste and profuse liberality in the matter of scenery, accessories and costume, but the intelligence is unsatisfied and the lover of the poet is forced to the conviction that more thought has been taken of the spectacle than of the play. If this representation had been offered at a minor theatre by a manager of smaller experience, capacity and accomplishment, it would have been worthy of hearty commendation as an effort in the right direction, but Mr. Daly has earned the right to be judged by the highest standards, and his best friends will scarcely be bold enough to assert that he has approached that of Mr. Henry Irving, not to speak of others that have been set in this city.

It may be admitted at once, and readily, that in mere sumptuousness of decoration he has done all that could be expected reasonably of any manager. There can be no question of the costliness of his preparation or of the skill with which he availed himself, as a rule, of modern theatrical resources. It is true that his system of lighting is deficient, that he has turned night into day and day into night, that the sky illumination in the opening set is an impossible phenomenon, that his costumes belong to no one place or period and that his architecture is curious in more respects than one; but it would be unfair to insist too strongly upon such lesser points of detail as these, considering the fanciful nature of the work—which affords plausible excuse for license—and the fact remains that such sets as the interior of Orsino's palace, with its array of courtiers and musicians, the hall of Olivia's house and the garden scene are beautiful and striking, while the costumes are extremely brilliant and picturesqu'e—sometimes, indeed, a little too brilliant as in the case, for instance, of Viola just fresh from shipwreck. In all these spectacular features of the entertainment there is much to praise and little to complain of, while the incidental music, all of which by the way does not belong to Twelfth Night, is very sweetly and tastefully rendered, although occasionally in too slow time. But in the most vital part of the representation, the acting, this high level of excellence is not maintained. Correct as most of it is in form and detail it is sadly devoid of spirit or imagination. Miss Ada Rehan, when in her proper element, which is one of archness, or frolic or pretty petulance, is a most charming actress who need fear no rival; but in characters whose very essence is romantic, poetic and sentimental she is misplaced. Her defects are those of temperament, not of intelligence. Her delivery of verse is monotonous and unsympathetic, and her style of acting lacks the delicacy, refinement and grace necessarily associated with the heroines of poetry and imagination. In interpreting them she is compelled to restrain her own natural vivacity, which is her most potent weapon, and to substitute for it a colorless demeanor which is necessarily ineffective, and often dull. Her Viola, compared with the performances of such artists as 'Modjeska, Ellen Terry or Adelaide Neilson, was curiously insincere and unimaginative, except in those passages which gave something like free play to the merry mood in which she excels. She did not fall absolutely, of course—her experience as an actress and her natural charm as a woman prevented such a catastrophe as that—but most assuredly she fell very far short of success.

The most satisfactory performance was the Malvolio of Mr. George Clarke, which, although without the inspiration and distinction of Mr. Irving's masterful impersonation, was a humorous, consistent and exceedingly well-executed sketch. Mr. Lewis's Sir Toby was quaint and funny, but lacked breadth, vigor and unction, and the carousal scenes passed very tamely. The Olivia of Miss Prince was an uncommonly meritorious bit of work, admirable in dignity and grace, and especially notable for good elocution. Of Maria's spontaneous and infectious humor Miss Catharine Lewis suggested little. The only other part deserving a word of special mention was the Orsino of Creston Clarke. Doubtless the general representation will improve with rehearsal, but the future of it will depend chiefly upon the scenery and the music.