THEATRICAL ECONOMY.
We learn that at a recent matinée performance of a play by Mr. W. B. Yeats, "instead of scenery a Chorus of singers was introduced, who described the scene as well as commenting upon the action." In these times that call for frugality other managements would do well to copy. One might mount an entire West-End Society comedy, and bring as it were the scent of Hay Hill across the footlights, at no greater expense than the cost of a back-curtain and a Chorus. The latter might go something as follows:—
This is the morning-room of the heroine's house in Half Moon Street;
Noble and large is the room, with three windows, two doors and a fireplace
(Goodness knows how many more in the wall through which we are looking).
Nobly and well is it furnished, with chairs and with tables and couches,
Couches beyond computation, and all of them soon to be sat on;
So may you see that the play will be dialogue rather than action.
Pleasant and fresh in the footlights the chintzes with which they are covered,
Giving a summer effect, helped out by the plants in the fireplace.
Curtains at each of the windows are flooded with limelight of amber,
Whence you may learn that the time is a fine afternoon in the season.
Centre of back a piano, whose makers are told on the programme,
Promises snatches of song, or it may be a heartbroken solo.
Carpets and rugs and the like you can fill in without any prompting;
Pictures and china and books, and photographs circled in silver.
Yes, you may take it from us that the piece has been mounted regardless.
[Enter the leading lady. She just pushes the back-curtains apart and emerges on to the stage, dressed in any old thing (what a saving!). The Chorus continues ecstatically.]
See where the heroine comes, flinging open the door from the staircase
(Marked you the head of the stairs and the artist-proof on the landing?
That's what I call realistic). She's threaded her way through the couches,
Sinks upon one for an instant, then rises and walks to the window,
Showing the back of her gown to be fully as chic as the front part.
So to the door (in the curtain) and slams it with signs of emotion,
Slams it so hard and so fierce that the walls of the room are a-quiver;
Even the opposite side of the roadway, as seen through the windows,
Shares in the general movement, as though it were struck by an earthquake.
And so on. You catch the idea? Bare boards, a passion and a Chorus; and the management would save enough to make the amusement-tax a matter of indifference.
NURSERY RHYMES OF LONDON TOWN.
V.—Swiss Cottage.