Watkin (faintly). "It won't wash!"
[Collapses.]
It is a canon of comedy-construction that from the first, the audience should be let into the secret of the dénouement, but that they should be puzzled as to the means by which that end is to be achieved. This play is an excellent example of the rule. Everybody knows who the heroine is from the moment of her appearance; but as to how she, the illegitimate daughter, is to be recognised and acknowledged by her father, this is the problem that no one except the dramatist, in the course of four acts, can solve. It is a very clever piece of workmanship. In these modern matter-of-fact realistic days, fancy the awful danger to any play in which a father has to discover his long-lost child! The strawberry mark on the left arm, the amulet, the duplicate miniature of the mother—these ways and means, and many others, must occur to the playgoer, and must have presented themselves at the outset to the author, flattering himself on his originality, as difficulties almost insuperable because so stagey, so worn threadbare, so out of date.
Over these difficulties Mr. Grundy has triumphed, and with him triumph the actors and the stage-manager; as, for the most part, except when there is a needless conventional "taking the centre" for supposed effect, the stage management is as admirable as the acting and the dialogue, which is saying a great deal, but not a bit too much.
Portrait of the Great Duke of Wellington, when Marquis of Douro, by Mr. Ian Robertson.
Mr. Brandon Thomas and Miss Emery have never done anything better. The former with his peculiar north-country "burr," and with his collars and general make up reminding many of the G. O. M., whilst Mr. Ian Robertson as the wicked old Lord is not unlike the pictures of the Iron Duke when Lord Douro. Mr. Edmund Maurice, as representing the slangy, sporting, about-town Baronet of the Tom-and-Jerry day, is a kind of Goldfinch in The Road to Ruin, with a similar kind of catchword, which I suppose, on Mr. Grundy's authority [though I do not remember the expression nor the use of the word "chuck" in Tom and Jerry—the authority for Georgian era slang] was one of the slang phrases of that period. For my part (a very small part), I am inclined to credit Mr. Grundy with the invention of "smash my topper," and of the introduction of "chuck it" into eighteenth century London slang.
Admirable are the quaint sketches of character given by Miss Rose Leclercq and Miss Annie Hughes. Manly and lover-like is Mr. Sydney Brough. In the dramatic unfolding of the plot, faultlessly acted as it is, the audience from first to last are thoroughly interested. Here and there, speeches and scenes would be all the better for some judicious excision. When you are convinced, further argument weakens the case, and I confess I should like to hear that ten minutes' worth of dialogue had been taken out of the parts played by Mr. Brandon Thomas and Miss Winifred Emery. But this is a small matter—a very small matter. To sum up, it is good work and good play, and so the new manager and lessee is at this present moment a Triumphal Carr.
Q. Why was there at one time a chance of the Times, which has always been up to date, ever being behind time?
—A. Because formerly there was so much Delayin!!