THE LAW COURTS THEATRE.
"ROMNEY'S RUM 'UN."
London was probably never richer in comic actors than at the present moment, for not only is W.H. Berry at the Adelphi, Leslie Henson at the Gaiety, Arthur Roberts at the Oxford singing his old songs, and Robert Hale and George Robey twice daily elsewhere, but in the Law Courts Playhouse Charles Darling has been lately at his very best. Dropping in there last week, during the performance of a new farce, entitled Romney's Rum 'Un, I was again fascinated by the inexhaustible wit and allusive badinage of this great little comedian, beside whose ready gagging George Graves himself is inarticulate. Had not George Robey invented for application to himself the descriptive phrase, "The Prime Minister of Mirth," it should be at once affixed to the Law Courts' fun-maker; but, since it is too late to use that, let us think of him as "The Chancellor of the Exchequer of Mirth."
Charles Darling's success is the more remarkable because he keeps so still. He sits in his chair as steadily as another of his outdistanced rivals, Sam Mayo ("The Immobile Comedian," as he is called), remains standing. He has few gestures; he rarely, if ever, sings, and I have never seen him dance; and yet the way in which he "gets over" is astonishing. "Laughter holding both his sides" is the most constant attendant of this theatre.
What is the secret? Well, first and foremost it is of course to be sought in the genius of the actor himself; but contributory causes are the acceptivity of the audience, which is more noticeable in the Law Courts than in any other London theatre, and the willingness of his fellow-performers to "feed" him, as stage-folk have it; that is to say, provide him with materials upon which (again resorting to stage language) he may "crack his wheezes." The other day, for example, that excellent comedian, John Simon, was his principal ally in this way, and nothing could have been better than the sympathy between the two funny men. To Charles Darling naturally fell the fat of the dialogue, but no one enjoyed the treat more than John Simon, in whose dictionary the word jealousy does not exist. Leslie Scott also did his best to "feed" his principal, and the results were a scream.
If the jokes were now and then a little legal, what did it matter? Many of the audience were legal too, and that there is no better audience the reports of the farces played here day after day abundantly prove. They are out for fun, and therefore in an appreciative and complaisant mood.
To prove a comedian's genius to the mere reader is a difficult matter, and one can never hope to re-embody him in all his humorous idiosyncracies; but quotation comes to one's aid, and in the case of such a wit as Charles Darling it is invaluable. Thus John Simon, referring to Mrs. Siddons' unwieldiness in her old age, said that in a certain part she had to be helped from her knees by two attendants. Quick as lightning came the comment, "When she was younger she was able to rise on her own merits." Was ever so exquisitely funny and unexpected a turn given to the dull word "merits"? Another perfect thing from this diverting piece, followed also by Homeric cachinnations, was the mock-serious apophthegm: "If a cloud is going to support a lady of substantial proportions, you must make it fairly solid."
I came away with reluctance, filled with wonder at the want of enterprise shown by our revue-managers in not having, long ere now, secured Charles Darling's services. If only he continues to take his art seriously he has a great future. Meanwhile I am applying embrocation to my sore sides.