Punch: Punch (101.1891)

December 5, 1891.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

269

Miss T. My!—but that's a serious symptom—isn't it? You
don't feel like you were going to have lock-jaw, do you, Mr.
Culchard ?

[Culchard falls back to the rear once more. Latei—Mr.
Van Boodelee has joined the party; Hypatia has con-
trived to detach her brother. Celchard has sought refuge

With podbery.

Miss T. {to Van B.). So that's what kept you ? Well, it sounds
just too enchanting. But I cann't answer for what Miss Prender-
gast will say to it. It mayn't suit her notions of propriety.

Mr. Van B. I expect she '11 be superior to Britannic prejudices of
that kind. I consider your friend a highly cultivated and charming
lady, Maud. She produces that impression upon me.

Miss T. I presume, from that, she has shown an intelligent
interest in the great Amurrcan novel ?

Mr. Van B. Why, yes ; it enlists her literary sympathies—she
sees all its possibilities.

3fiss T. And they're pretty numerous, too. But here she comes.
Tou 'd better tell her your plan right now.

Miss P. {in a?i earnest undertone to Bob, as they approach, fol-
lowed by Culch. and Bob). You must try and be sensible about it,
Bob ; if you are too blind to see that she is only-

Bob {sulkily). All right! Haven't I said I'd go? What's the
good of Jawing about it?

Mr. V. B. {to Miss p.) I've been telling my cousin I've been
organising a little water-party for this evening—moonlight, mando-
lins, Menaggio. If you find that alliteration has any attractions,
I hope you and your brother will do me the pleasure of-

Miss P. I'm afraid not, thanks. We have all our packing to do.
We find we shall have to leave early to-morrow.

[Van B.'s face falls ; Bob listens gloomily to Miss T.'s rather
perfunctory expressions of regret; Podbery looks anxious
and undecided ; Cuechaed does his best to control an
unseemly joy.

THE GOOD NEW "TIMES.

of the author who says, " Here's what I have written. See how they
act it: whether it be farce or comedy, judge for yourselves. You pav
your money, and you take your choice." Suffice it, then, to record
that, on the night of this deponent's visit, the piece played from
eight till past eleven, and that the audience from first to last was
generally amused, but, I should be inclined to say, particularly
disappointed at the collapse of Mr. Terry's
part in tbe last Act (the principal portion of
which he passes curled up on a sofa, with
the top of his forehead powdered white!
Why?), and mystified by the sudden and
apparently unnecessary revelation, made by
Miss Cazalet, to the effect that Lucy Tuck
(a mentally and physically short-sighted
girl) is her illegitimate daughter; and these
two last-named personages, though essential
to the plot, fail unfortunately in rousing
any sentiment of pity or of sympathy.

Mr. Elliot is excellent as the Hon.
Montague Trimble ; nothing better, apart
from Mr. Hare's eccentric characters, has
been seen on the stage for some considerable
time. I hope the author is of the same
opinion. Mr. Fred Thorxe is capital as
the Irish Member; and as 3frs. Hooley,
an obtrusively Irish eccentricity of Thack-
erayan extraction, Miss Alexes Leighton
is very good, for the character, as drawn by
the author, is obtrusive, and is so meant to
be. The Mrs. Egerton Bompas of Miss
Fanny Brough is the woman to the life,
and, in my humble judgment, MIssBroegh's
impersonation is well-nigh faultless.
Whether, if the part of Egerton Bompas js££^r iA—

were played as high comedy, this would still Que oi the Leaders in
improve Miss Brough's impersonation of The Times.

Mrs. Bompas or not, it is difficult to decide ;

but I am inclined to think this would be the result. What does the
author think ? Most likelv he will continue to " think " ; it is the

Nobody, after visiting Terry's Theatre, can apply to Mr. Pinero's
piece the hackneyed phrase,—used apologetically by an unconscion-j wiser course. Mr. Henry V. Esmond makes the lad, Howard
able reader after detaining the leading journal for three-quarters I Bompas, unnecessarily repulsive ; but if, in doing so, he is only

of an hour,—"Oh, there's nothing in The Times," for, in Mr.
Penero's piece there is plenty of amusement, if not of absorbing
interest.

The story is that of a parvenu, whose sole object in life, to be
recognised by "Society," is thwarted by the marriage of his good-
for-nothing son with the daughter of an Irish lodging-house keeper.

The struggles of Mr. and Mrs.
Bompas to conceal this ?nes-
alliance, and the assistance
given them in their difficulties
by the Hon. Montague Trimble,
constitute the motive of the
play. But the question that
must occur to the critical mind
is, "Did the author mean this
piece for high comedy, or far-
cical comedy ? " If the former,
then Mr. Terry is wrong in
his conception of the part; if
the latter, everybody else is
wrong in their conception of
their parts.

It seems to me as if, in the
course of rehearsal, the pecu-
liarities distinguishing the
character of Percy Egerton
Bompas, M.P., had gradually
become assimilated with the
individualities of the actor,
Mr. Edward Terry. If Mr.
Pinero so meant it, if he so wrote it for Mr. Terry and for
Mr. Terry only, then there is nothing more to be said; Mr. Pinero's
ideal is realised. But if the author did not intend Mr. Terry's
impersonation, then he must be content to sacrifice the ideal to the
real, shrug his shoulders, and pocket his profits. Yet, as if making
an appeal to the public to judge between the auctorial abstract and
the representational concrete, Mr. Pinero not only publishes his
playbook, but sells it in the theatre. Visitors to Terry's, who buy
the book, will judge the play by its stage interpretation that has
had the advantage of the author's personal supervision and direction.
The representation, therefore, is either more or less in accordance
with his teaching, or fiatly contradicts it.

The publication of the book of a comedy in a theatre may be
thankfully received as a present help to the audience, and an aid to
memory afterwards, or it may be considered as a protest on the part

exactly carrying out the author's idea, i.e., "Master's orders," then
he is no longer responsible for the overcharged colouring. The
probable fate of this unhappy pair, an impulsive uneducated kind
of Irish orange-girl married to a contemptible young sot, is not a
pleasant termination to the story, nor is the anticipatory sadness felt
for the future of this ill-assorted couple in any way dissipated by
the stereotyped and perfunctory offer of marriage made by the young
London Journal Nobleman to the daughter of the utterly crushed
snob just before the Curtain descends.

Why the piece is called The Times, "remains a mystery. To-day
would have been better ; that is, if by The Times is only meant
" The Present Day." And if it doesn't mean this, what meaning has
it? For alliterative advertisement it may be useful; e.g., "Times
at Terry's." The dialogue generally is easy, natural and telling.

Yours, Private Box.

FOLLOW THE BARON 1

[" Such characters as he should retire into fiction, they are too exaggerated for
real life."—"Times" on Mr. R. L. Stevenson s Bad Baron of Samoa.']

Oh, most excellent true! How I thank thee, great Times,

For teaching that phrase ! 'Tis delicious !
Fiction ! The haunt of mad follies, crass crimes,

Fads futile, and tastes meretricious.
Oh, joy, to transport to that Limbo of Fools,

Upon trial and honest conviction,
The plagues of our Parties, our Churches, our Schools,

Who ought to "retire into Fiction."

When Windywhame, M.P., goes spouting about,

His flatulent madness and malice;
When Sledge, after years of dogmatical doubt,

Finds Faith's Wonderland worthy of Alice ;
When Popinjay airs his effeminate Art,

And Dobbs sputters dirt in choice diction,
Ye gods, there'd be joy in Church, Forum, and Mart,

If the fools would "retire into Fiction."

Pragmatical pietists, sceptics obtuse

Who Progress impede with crude cackle,
Predestinate duffers of prattle profuse,

Who the biggest world-problems would tackle:
State-quacks, shouting Emperors, queer School-Board cranks,

We '11 give you our best benediction,
And speed you at parting with heartiest thanks,

If you '11 only—" retire into Fiction ! "