THE GOOD NEW "TIMES."
Nobody, after visiting Terry's Theatre, can apply to Mr. PINERO's piece the hackneyed phrase,—used apologetically by an unconscionable reader after detaining the leading journal for three-quarters of an hour,—"Oh, there's nothing in The Times," for, in Mr. PINERO'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 mésalliance, 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 farcical 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 peculiarities 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 flatly 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 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 pay 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 the 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 THORNE is capital as the Irish Member; and as Mrs. Hooley, an obtrusively Irish eccentricity of Thackerayan 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, Miss BROUGH's impersonation is well-nigh faultless. Whether, if the part of Egerton Bompas were played as high comedy, this would still improve Miss BROUGH's impersonation of 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 likely he will continue to "think"; it is the wiser course. Mr. HENRY V. ESMOND makes the lad, Howard Bompas, unnecessarily repulsive; but if, in doing so, he is only 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.