Our Stage and Its Critics / By "E.F.S." of "The Westminster Gazette"

by Edward Fordham Spence

Signor Borsa has something to say on most of the topics of the times. For instance, he deals with the Censor! "And here we touch the root of the evil—the Censor! It is the Censor who is the real enemy—the ruthless, insatiable Cerberus." He writes upon the question of speeches in the theatres. "In Italy a new play is sometimes so heartily hissed after one or two acts that the manager is forced to cut short the performance and proceed forthwith to the farce. This never happens in England, partly because every 'first night' is attended by a claque, judiciously posted and naturally well disposed. Not that these 'first-nighters' are paid to applaud, as in Paris or Vienna. Neither are they labelled as claqueurs. They are simply enthusiasts, and their name is Legion.... It is they who salute the actor-manager after the curtain has fallen with persistent demands of 'Speech! Speech!' And it is to the request of these good and faithful friends that he accedes at last, in a voice broken by emotion, due to their spontaneous and generous reception."

Of late some people have been suggesting gleefully that the vogue of "G.B.S." is on the wane. His popularity has been the cause of great annoyance to the mass of the public and those critics who stand up for a theatre of "old scenic tricks which were long familiar to me—sensational intrigues, impossible situations, men and women who could have been neither English nor French nor Italian." They will be glad to learn that Signor Borsa says: "Shaw's dramatic work is pure journalism, destined to enjoy a certain vogue, and then to be swallowed up in the deep pit of oblivion. Nor should I be surprised if this vogue of his were already on the decline.... Shaw, with all his wit and all his go, already shows signs of becoming terribly monotonous." According to him, in "Shaw there were the makings of a writer of talent."

Let us add that no evidence exists to show the decline of the author's popularity; it may also be said that much of "G.B.S." is quite incomprehensible to a foreigner. What Signor Borsa calls the "restaurateurs-proprietors," and also the actor-managers—with a few exceptions—may hold aloof, but Mr Shaw has brought to the theatres a new public, and taken a good many of the old as well. Apparently Signor Borsa's hostility to "G.B.S." is founded on the fact that the dramatist is a revolutionary and refuses to accept the theatrical formulae which satisfy the Italian. One must, however, point out that whilst Signor Borsa's general conclusions concerning the most remarkable person of the English theatre are unsound, his remarks in detail are acute and luminous, and some of them well deserve the consideration of the victim.

The curiosity of the book is the treatment of the acting. According to Signor Borsa, "the acting has little to boast of. A century, or even half-a-century, ago the case was different. But the glories of Kean, Macready, Kemble, and Siddons now belong to history and but yesterday Sir Henry Irving stood alone—the unique representative in England of the great tragic art.... In conveying irony, the English actor is in his element; in comic parts, he is simply grotesque. The buffoon may occasionally be found upon the English stage—the brilliant comedian never. In tragic parts he easily assumes an exaggerated gravity and solemnity; in sentimental rôles he is frankly ridiculous."

Frankly is a mistranslation, or else the adjective is ridiculous, if not "frankly" ridiculous. Signor Borsa falls into a very common error. He thinks that because English actors do not gesticulate a great deal they act badly. This might be true if they represented on the stage a gesticulative race. The author points out carefully that we are not a gesticulative race, and fails to see that it would be bad acting for the player to represent an Englishman as being naturally gesticulative. The English Jew is more gesticulative than the ordinary Englishman; the Anglo-Jewish players—and there are many—curb themselves when they are playing British characters, and of course they act artistically in so doing.

The function of the actor is to impress the audience before him, nine-tenths of which consist of people who would regard him as ridiculous and unnatural if, when acting an ordinary English part, he were to gesticulate very much. We have seen Italian players of ability representing English characters, and, putting aside Duse, the obvious and correct criticism was that they were very funny and quite incorrect in their exuberance of gesture.

Irving is the only actor whom he discusses; Ellen Terry the one English actress. This, of course, is absurd. It indicates, however, very usefully the attitude of the foreign critic towards our stage. Also, perhaps, it is a little chastening to our players. The foreigner is able to understand and appreciate to some extent the best of our plays; the acting says nothing to him, or at least nothing flattering. Our comedians are "buffoons," our lovers are "frankly ridiculous," and the Italian actors are superior in "temperament"—whatever that may mean. Ours, it appears, are better than the Italians in some humble ways: "They dress their parts better and wear their clothes better," and they even know their parts—a vulgar quality which apparently is rare on the Italian stage—also they are more cultured, and "possess to a greater degree the dramatic literary sense."

One may accept, sadly, Signor Borsa's view, which is shared by most Continental and many British critics, that the ordinary English drama is utterly unworthy of the English people; but we certainly have abundance of competent players, and a fair number of dramatists anxious and able to give the public far better drama than they get, as soon as managers are willing to produce it; the great trouble is that the managers are afraid of the public, and although they might wisely be more venturesome, they have, in the present mass of playgoers, a terrible public to cater for. The facts and figures offered by Signor Borsa show too eloquently that the managers attempt to deal with the difficulty by a very short-sighted policy. Still, the position is less desperate than the Italian critic supposes, and much of what has happened since Auguste Filon wrote the line already quoted shows that he was too hasty in his judgment.

["G.B.S." and the Amateurs ]

There is a story—its untruth is indisputable—to the effect that on a death of a man of unconventional character his mournful family, after much trouble, hit upon the happy thought of satisfying their desire to leave an amiable and incontestable record concerning him by having inscribed upon his tombstone the following epitaph:—"He never acted in private theatricals."