Hartley Withers - "War Time Financial Problems"

Frances Reynolds - "An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Taste, and of the Origin of"

T. Phelan - "The Siege of Kimberley"

Edward Streeter - "Dere Mable"

Review: Gritty debut novel 'Nowhere' follows a teen runaway to some very real places
Moreover Technologies - Premier purveyor of real-time news and RSS feeds from across the Web

Clenched fists and AK-47s
Ad - Free Shipping on purchases over $59.95 of products online at Tennis Express.

Decoding the Heavens: Solving the Mystery of the World's First Computer by Jo Marchant review
It may sound like faint praise to say that Nami Mun writes with strong verbs, but given the overwrought, undercooked prose of the 'literary' novels that all too often emerge from today's creative writing programs, a simple, inventive verb choice is a

A / B / C / D / E / F / G / H / I / J / K / L / M / N / O / P / R / S / T / U / V / W / Y / Z

Our Stage and Its Critics written by E.F.S. of The Westminster Gazette

E >> E.F.S. of The Westminster Gazette >> Our Stage and Its Critics



OUR STAGE AND ITS CRITICS


BY

"E.F.S."

OF "THE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE"



_1910_




PREFACE


Whilst reading the proof-sheets of these articles I have been oppressed
by the thought that they give a gloomy idea about the state of our
Stage. Yet I am naturally sanguine. Indeed, no one taking a deep
interest in our drama could have written for a score or so of years
about it unless of a naturally sanguine temperament. There has been
great progress during my time, yet we still are far from possessing a
modern national drama creditable to us. Some imagine that the British
have no inborn genius for writing drama, or acting it, and look upon
those dramatists and players whose greatness cannot be denied as mere
exceptions to a rule. Without alleging that at the moment we have a
Shakespeare, a Garrick or a Siddons, I assert confidently that we own
dramatists and players able, if rightly used, to make our theatre worthy
of our country and also that the misuse of them is appalling. For very
many years the history of the English stage has been chiefly a record of
waste, of gross commercialism and of honest efforts ruined by adherence
to mischievous traditions: the Scottish and Irish stage have been mere
reflections of our own.

At the moment Ireland is making a brave and remarkably successful
effort at emancipation, and during the last few years has laid the
foundations of a National Theatre and built a good deal upon them.
Scotland lags a little, yet the energy and enthusiasm of Mr Alfred
Wareing and the citizens of Glasgow have enabled them to create an
institution not unlikely to serve as the home of a real Scots drama.
They offer to the native playwright an opportunity of showing that a
national drama--not a drama merely echoing the drama of other
lands--lies inherent in the race. Who knows that they may not induce
that wayward man of genius, J.M. Barrie, to become the parent of Scots
drama by honestly and sincerely using his rare gifts as dramatist in an
effort to express the pathos and the humour, the courage and the
shyness, the shrewdness and the imagination, and also the less agreeable
qualities and characteristics of our brothers across the border.

And England? I have little first-hand knowledge of the provinces, but
with such as I possess, and the aid of the _Era Annual_ and the _Stage
Year Book_, can state unhesitatingly that the position is very
unsatisfactory. Admirable, valuable work is being done bravely by Miss
Horniman at Manchester; Mr F.R. Benson and his company devotedly carry
the banner of Shakespeare through the land; but in the main the
playhouses of the provinces and great cities of England offer little
more than echoes of the London theatres, and such original works as are
produced in them generally are mere experiments made on the dog before a
piece is presented in London. In this respect, the suburbs resemble the
provinces, although Mr J.B. Mulholland courageously makes efforts to
give Hammersmith something new and good. The Coronet has seen some
valuable ventures--perhaps Notting Hill is not a suburb--and at the
moment is devoted to the production of real novelties.

In the West End theatres of London the position at first sight seems
desperate. During the last twenty years, in consequence of the
intervention of middlemen, rents have risen 100 per cent.; owing to the
folly of managers the salaries of the company have increased to a
similar extent; whilst the cost of scenery, costumes and the like also
has grown enormously. Indeed, it is probably an under-statement to
allege that the money spent in running a theatre on the customary
commercial lines is twice as great as it was in 1890. Yet the price of
seats has not been raised. Consequently theatre management has become a
huge gamble, in which there are few prizes, and the amount of money lost
annually is great. Naturally, under such circumstances the principal,
almost the only, aim of the ordinary manager is to please the masses.
Many concessions are made to the wishes of the crowd, and by way of
excuse the phrase "the drama's laws the drama's patrons give" is
quoted. It is painful to think that people can quote Johnson's line
without a feeling of scorn, yet it necessarily contains an awful amount
of truth when theatres are managed under the present mad conditions.
What art has ever made progress under laws dictated by the great
half-washed?

Half-a-dozen of the West End theatres are devoted to musico-dramatic
works which, whatever their merits in other respects, have none as
drama, and certainly have done little for the development of English
music. As a rule several houses are under the management of American
managers and they, putting Mr Frohman aside, rarely prove anything but
the sterility of America drama or their contempt for the taste of our
playgoers who, however, as a rule prefer native to imported
rubbish--hence grumbles in the United States about prejudice and unfair
play. Mr Frohman, as part of his repertory scheme, and otherwise as
well, has done something to help the modern English dramatist. Putting
Shakespeare out of the question, for of course he has nothing to do with
English modern drama, we have little in the ordinary London theatre that
is not the natural result of bad traditions, and the only progress made
is in the direction of increased dexterity in playwriting--unfortunately
increased dexterity as a rule in handling old subjects according to the
old traditions, which leave the stage curiously outside the world of
literature and also of ordinary human life.

On the other hand, thanks to the efforts of many enthusiasts working by
means of societies and clubs, such as the Independent Theatre--the first
of all--the Century Theatre, the (Incorporated) Stage Society, the
Pioneers, the Play Actors and others, and the Play-goers' Club, the O.P.
Club and the Gallery First Nighters, and also thanks to the efforts of
Messrs Vedrenne and Barker, at the Court Theatre, real progress has been
made in London towards the creation of an English modern theatre, and we
now possess a valuable body of dramatists, some to a great extent,
others altogether, neglected by the ordinary theatre. Speaking of these
dramatists collectively, it may fairly be said that their gifts are
greater, their ambitions higher and their theories of drama sounder than
those of their rivals who work for the ordinary theatre; and I should
add that the ordinary theatre is far richer in dramatists of quality
than it was twenty years ago. So we have the playwrights.

Also we have the plays. The publication in book form of the best native
pieces presented by the enthusiasts of whom I have spoken, but not
offered to the general public for a run, would satisfy any critic that
the English modern drama exists although we are still waiting for the
English modern theatre.

Moreover, we have the players. Some, though not many, of the
fashionable stars would serve, whilst there are numbers of really able
actresses and actors who have proved their ability to represent modern
comedy, but owing to the strange policy of managers are rarely employed
by the ordinary theatre--in London. In several cases the policy may be
sound, since the regular fare of the fashionable houses as a rule
demands a showy, but insincere, style out of the range, or at least the
demonstrated range, of the neglected players.

Does the public for such a theatre exist? I think so. The number of
playgoers is very large, and although only a comparatively small
proportion goes out of its way to patronise the non-commercial drama a
very large proportion has grown weary of the ordinary drama--a fact
shown by the recent failure of plays which not many years ago would have
been successful.

Do the critics exist? They are an important element in the matter. The
question is a delicate one for me to answer. Certainly some of our
dramatic critics are men of culture and courage, able to appreciate new
ideas. The difficulty is more with the newspapers than their
representatives. For a sad aspect of the present state of affairs lies
in the fact that the desire to obtain tittle-tattle and gossip
concerning the players often outweighs the desire to obtain sincere,
intelligent criticism, and the result is obvious. There is ten times
more "copy" published about the persons and personal affairs of the
author of a play and of its players than concerning its merits and
faults.

However, after taking all the elements into account, it may confidently
be asserted that within the lifetime of the present generation of
playgoers radical changes will have taken place, and even if we may not
possess tragedy of the highest quality we shall have a theatre of modern
English drama--serious comedy and also light comedy and farce--really
expressive of current life and thought and fine enough in style to
render the most critical Englishman proud of his country's drama.

E.F.S.

_October 1910_

The thanks of the author are due to the Proprietors and the Editor of
_The Westminster Gazette_ for kindly consenting to the republication of
articles which have already appeared in that journal.




CONTENTS


PAGE
CHAPTER I

THE DRAMATIC CRITIC

His Qualifications--His Knowledge of Fashionable Society--His
Duties and Difficulties--His Stock Phrases--The
Circumstances under which he writes--His Fear of Libel
Actions 1


CHAPTER II

THE DRAMATIC CRITIC

His Duty to be tolerant--His Sympathies when young--The
Jaded Critic--His Unpaid Labours and his Letter
Bag 28


CHAPTER III

THE DRAMATIC CRITIC

An Attack upon him--Why he is disliked--His Honesty--His
Abolition--The Threatened Theatrical Trust 49


CHAPTER IV

PLAYS OF PARTICULAR TYPES

The Pseudo-Historical--The Horrible in Drama--The
Immorality Play--Scripture Plays--Anecdotal Plays--The
Supernatural 72


CHAPTER V

PLAYS OF PARTICULAR TYPES

Unsentimental Drama--The Second-hand Drama--Plays
with a Purpose--Drama and Social Reform 99


CHAPTER VI

THE PHENOMENA OF THE STAGE

The Optics--Make-up--Gesture--Scenery at the French
Plays--Stage Costumes--Colour--Stage Meals 118


CHAPTER VII

THE MORALITY OF OUR DRAMA

Mr Harry Lauder on the Morals of Our Drama--Double
Entente--Moral Effect on Audience--An Advantage of
French Dramatists 149


CHAPTER VIII

CASUAL NOTES ON ACTING

Mr H.B. Irving on his Art--Mr Bourchier and "Max"
on English Acting--The Sicilian Players--Alleged Dearth
of Great Actresses--Character Actresses--Stage Misfits--Stars 167


CHAPTER IX

STAGE DANCING

The Skirts of the Drama--Isadora Duncan 195


CHAPTER X

THINGS IN THE THEATRE

A Defence of the Matinee Hat--A Justification of certain
Deadheads--Theatrical Advertisements--Music 205


CHAPTER XI

IN THE PLAYHOUSE

Laughter--Smoking in the Auditorium--Conduct of the
Audience--Concerning the Pit--Why do we go to the
Theatre? 229


CHAPTER XII

MISCELLANEOUS

Signor Borsa on the English Theatre--G.B.S. and the
Amateurs--Cant about Shakespeare--Yvette Guilbert
on Dramatists 252


CHAPTER XIII

MISCELLANEOUS

Finance in Plays--Some Unsuccessful Dramatists--The
Ending of the Play--Preposterous Stage Types--The
Professions of the Dramatis Personae 271




CHAPTER I

THE DRAMATIC CRITIC


His Qualifications

The production of a play in the Russian tongue renders topical a phrase
once used, not unhappily, by Mr Cecil Raleigh concerning the
qualifications of the dramatic critic. After listening to a somewhat
extravagant speech about the duties of the critic, he said that the
dramatic critic ought, apparently, to be a "polyglot archangel." During
the last few years we have had plays in Russian, Japanese, Bavarian
_patois_, Dutch, German, French and Italian, to say nothing of East End
performances in Hebrew and Yiddish, which we neglect. Latin drama we
hear at Westminster; a Greek company came to the Court but did not act.
A Chinese has been promised, and a Turkish drama threatened; Danish has
been given; there are awful hopes of Gaelic and Erse; and goodness knows
why we have escaped Echegaray, Lope di Vega and Calderon in the
original. A Mezzofanti would be at a premium in the craft if knowledge
of languages alone were sufficient; but one may know many tongues and
possess no judgment.

We have to accept great responsibilities. Some people measure the
greatness of the responsibilities by the amount of money involved in
theatrical enterprises; it is hardly necessary to discuss seriously this
point of view. Nevertheless the fact remains that the voice of the
critics has some effect upon the fortunes of ventures involving large
sums of money and the employment of many people. It is rather curious to
see how lightly as a rule the influence of the critics is regarded; for
instance, from some remarks uttered by Sir John Hare it appears that he
thinks they are not influential. Here are his words taken from an
interview published in a newspaper.

_The Interviewer_: "How is public taste formed? Do newspaper criticisms
affect it?"

_Mr Hare_: "Very little."

This view is rarely pressed upon a jury by the plaintiff in a libel
action, and it may be remarked that although, when a play is running
well, some managers almost ignore us, as soon as business drops they
become delightfully amiable and long for our presence. Moreover, at
considerable expense, they quote our opinions if favourable--even with
judicious modifications when unfavourable.

Perhaps the matter of languages is not of very great importance, seeing
that most of the critic's work concerns English Drama, or drama in what
is supposed to be English, which, too often, is quite a different thing.
What, then, are the necessary qualifications of the critic who takes his
work and himself seriously?

He should have some knowledge of music--enough, at least, to know
whether incidental or "melodrama" music is congruous with the time,
place and occasion of the play, and to be able to identify well-known
works. At a time when money is spent very lavishly upon scenery and
costumes, he ought to possess some theories, or at least ideas,
concerning pictorial art, the history of modern painting and the like,
and be capable of guessing what a daring experimentalist like Mr Gordon
Craig is aiming at and what relation his scene-pictures bear to the
current cant of the art critic. It is deplorable when one finds serious
critics gushing about the beauty of costly stage effects belonging to
the standard of taste exhibited by wedding-cakes, Christmas crackers,
old-fashioned valentines and Royal Academicians. Dancing must mean
something more to him than a whirling and twirling of human beings--he
should at the least know the distinctive styles and figures of different
countries, and not confuse an _entrechat_ with a _pirouette_, should be
aware of the meaning of the terms _arabesque_ and _rond de jambe_, and
understand to some extent the conventional language and history of grand
ballet. No one will deny that his study of history must be substantial
and, to put the matter compendiously, he must have a good general
education, which, however, will not carry him very far, since he must
own a special knowledge of the history of drama and of literature and
modern literary movements.

Then comes the question of theories of criticism--can he do with less
than, say, an acquaintance with Aristotle, and Lessing's "Laocoon," or
even with so little? With Shakespeare and some of his commentators he
ought to be at home; the "Paradoxe sur le Comedien" he can hardly
escape, and the works of some of the modern English and latest French
critics may not be overlooked. Of course he must have read and
considered a large number of plays, and the theories on which they are
based. Politics he may almost neglect unless there be successors to
_John Bull's Other Island_, though he will have to keep abreast of the
facts and fancies of modern life, including, to some extent, political
matters. How he is to study the customs, usage and manners of polite
society among the upper ten thousand it is hard to say. Not a few of us
are weak on this point, and feel ill at ease when dealing with the
_nuances_ of the customs of Mayfair. The study of books on _Savoir
Faire_ and the Manners of Polite Society certainly will give very little
assistance.

Lastly, in this catalogue, which is far from exhaustive, he must study
the art of writing, so that he may at least be able to keep clear of the
vulgar faults. No one expects him to show any absolute merit in
style--space and circumstances of time and place are against him, and to
accomplish the negative is quite a positive triumph. Correct grammar,
avoidance of hackneyed _cliches_, clearness of phrase, reasonably
scholar-like use of words, abstinence from alliteration unless there be
due cause, and escape from uncouthness of expression and monotony of
sound are all he can hope to exhibit in the way of virtue. Of course a
little wit or humour does no harm, provided that no sacrifice of truth
is made for the sake of it. Of the moral qualities nothing need be said;
he will be exposed to a few great temptations and many little ones: to
some of the latter he is certain to yield.

If and when he has acquired all this knowledge, it will be his duty
almost to conceal it. It is to be employed as apparatus for the
formation of judgments rather than the embellishment of them, though, of
course, it may be used reticently by way of illustration, explanation
and the like. Yet it may be useful and not illegitimate for him
sometimes to try to convince the reader that his criticism is from the
pen of one who knows more about the subject than lies within the range
of the Man in the Street.

The critic is not superior to the amateur judge by reason of a greater
natural aptitude for judging, but because he has a larger stock of
knowledge on which to base his judgments, possesses a wider basis for
comparison--the foundation of all opinion--and has trained his natural
aptitudes; consequently, whilst his criticism necessarily, like that of
the Man in the Street, is relative, not absolute, is after all merely an
_ipse dixit_, it is the personal view of the better-trained person.

The pessimist may suggest that it is hardly worth while to endeavour to
become such an Admirable Crichton, that the labour will not be
sufficiently remunerated, that the existing British Drama does not
demand or deserve criticism by such cultured experts.

There are few of us fully qualified, according to the standard put
forward in these lines, and it may be added, without anything in the
nature of mock-modesty, that the author is well aware of the fact that
he cannot be reckoned among the few.


His Knowledge of Fashionable Society

A passage in _Lady Huntworth's Experiment_ did not earn the laugh
deserved by it. Captain Dorvaston was supposed to read a passage from
_The Special Monthly Journal_, to this effect: "The shield bore for
device a bar sinister, with _fleur-de-lys rampant_"; then he said, "That
ain't heraldry." Lady Huntworth replied, "Yes, it is; Family Heraldry,"
and he laughed. The passage in the play brought forward vividly the
thought that those who really live in the aristocratic world may smile
at our high-life dramas just as they do at the stories that appear
concerning the nobility in obscure "family" papers. There is, and during
a long time has been, a mania among playwrights for putting aristocratic
characters upon the stage. It may be that this is due to the
snobbishness of players, who, in comedy, love to represent a lord: they
can be kings and queens only in tragedies; or to that of the audience,
which likes to see the representation of the nobility; or, again, it may
be caused by the snobbishness of the dramatist and his wish to suggest
that he knows all about the "upper succles."

It need not be assumed that we are much worse in this respect than our
neighbours across that Channel which some desire to have destroyed and
so nullify the famous John of Gaunt speech. In books and plays the
Gallic writers are almost as fond of presenting the French aristocracy
as are our dramatists and novelists of writing works concerning the
British Peerage. Even putting the actual peerage aside, the question is
important, whether the pictures in fiction--particularly in drama--of
what one may call Belgravia or Mayfair are correct. We critics hardly
know; and it may be a solecism to suggest that the same applies to the
studies of the Faubourg St Germain. Perhaps that famous faubourg has
lost its distinction.

The question may seem a little difficult yet must be asked: How do our
dramatists and the French manage to get a first-hand study of the real
aristocracy? Of course, nowadays, there are a large number of houses
owned by people with titles, and sometimes very noble titles, which can
easily be penetrated. Speaking quite apart from politics, one may say
that the British aristocracy year by year makes itself cheaper and
cheaper, losing thereby its title to existence. The city clerk can do
better than Dick Swiveller, and decorate his bed-sitting room with a
photographic gallery of _decolletees_ duchesses, and bare-legged ladies
of noble family, and he is able to obtain a vast amount of information,
part of it quite accurate, concerning their doings.

Yet, even when we get far higher than the city clerk, and reach the
fashionable playwright, to say nothing of the dramatic critic, there are
mysteries unexplorable. There is a Lhassa in Mayfair, our efforts to
attain which are Burked.

A big Bohemian, sporting "smart-set," Anglo-American, South African
millionaire society exists which has in it a good many people
acknowledged by Debrett, and this it is quite easy to enter. There are a
score or so of peers, and twice the number of peeresses, as well as
smaller fry, possessing titles by birth or marriage, with whom it is not
difficult, and not always desirable, to become acquainted. The real
aristocracy looks askance at them. When we see pictures of these, or
studies on the French stage of the titled _faiseurs_, or
_rastaquoueres_, we know that they may be correct, and indeed the
figures in them have become to such an extent despecialised that we can
judge of the truthfulness of the study by the simple process of assuming
that they do not possess any titles at all.

Still, there remains a world beyond, where, to some extent at least,
manners and ideas are different from those of the upper-middle-class, or
the middle-middle-class, to whichever it may be that our craft belongs.
People will recollect Thackeray's remarks concerning the impossibility
of getting to know the real domestic life of your French friends;
whether his words are well founded or not, they illustrate the essential
unknowability to the outsider of some of the great noble and even
untitled county families of the land. It is said that there still exist
some great ladies who have not cheapened themselves by allowing their
photographs to be published in the sixpenny papers. Yet our dramatists,
or some at least, seem to think that a play is vulgar unless amongst the
_dramatis personae_ one can find a lord or two.

Perhaps indolence is their excuse. You call a character the Duke of
Smithfield, and thereby save yourself much trouble; you need not explain
that he is rich, or how he came to be rich, or why he has no work to do.
You have ready-made for you the supposition of a mass of details as to
manner and prejudices. If the heroine's father is an earl and the hero a
commoner, such as a barrister or a doctor, the mere statement of these
facts is useful matter for your story. If the dramatist writes about the
kind of earl who belongs to that inner set of the aristocracy, in the
existence of which some of us innocently believe, how does he set about
his task?

Even when the ordinary playwright handles the ruck-and-run of the
"nobs," his acquaintance with them can hardly justify him in regarding
his studies as founded upon observation. To see people in the stalls and
meet them at public "functions," or the large entertainments of a
semi-private character which it is easy to penetrate, gives poor
opportunity for close scrutiny. Is there amongst the dramatists--and
novelists too--something akin to the system of the islanders who earned
a living by taking in one another's washing? Is there a vicious circle,
in which each and all accept as true what others have written? Do they
merely help themselves out of the common fund of ignorance?

Possibly this is based upon a delusion. The whole aristocracy may have
become so democratic that it is quite easy to study the most exclusive
at first hand, if you happen to be a successful dramatist, but very few
of the dramatic critics are successful dramatists.