(_An Apology accompanying a Purse._)
Do you like it? I wonder! Or think you it's stupid
To send such a commonplace gift as a Purse?
Do you sigh for the tinsel, and gauze, and the Cupid,
And the wonderful sentiments written in verse?
Well, suppose I had sent them. You'd murmur, "How pretty!"
Then not see them again as you put them away.
Shall I candidly tell you I thought 'twere a pity
Just to send you a gift that would last for a day?
But consider the times and the seasons--how many!
When a purse--something in it--will save you from fuss.
When you're posting a letter (to me), or a penny
You may want for a paper, a tram, or a 'bus.
When you've done with the purse, as you carefully lock it,
And look with all proper precaution to see
That the gold is still there, as it goes in your pocket,
Let a thought or two, sweetheart, come straying to me.
I've explained as I could. Do you still go on sighing
For the commoner Valentine--tinsel and gauze,
With the pictures of wonderful cherubim flying
In a reckless defiance of natural laws?
If you do--well, forgive me. Don't think me unkind. You
Know I'd not treat yourself in so heartless a style,
And so let this gift, as you use it, remind you
Of one whom you won, my dear, outright, with your smile.
* * * * *
SIR WILLIAM HARCOURT suggests that "Parish Councils will do everything for
the distressed Agriculturists." Sir WILLIAM should advertise the remedy out
of his Farmercopoeia--"Try Parish's Food for Agricultural Infants in
distress."
* * * * *
A MEERY JEST.--Said the AMEER to an English friend, "Yes, I am uncertain of
my position. I _Am 'eer_ to-day and gone to-morrow."
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG.
"DOG, DOG, BITE PIG,
PIG WON'T GET OVER STILE,
AND I SHAN'T GET HOME (-RULE) TO-NIGHT."]
* * * * *
_THE_ BECKET, NOT _A_ BECKET.
_BECKET_ has beaten the record. By the way, how the real original THOMAS À
BECKET would have beaten _The Record_, if the latter ecclesiastical journal
had existed in his time, and had given his Grace of Canterbury some nasty
ones in a leading article! But "that is another story." It is some time
since HENRY IRVING,--than whom no actor takes more thought, whether as to
his author's lines, or to his own lines when "making up,"--has achieved so
great and so genuine a success, and a success that will last in the memory
of playgoers for many years to come, as he has in placing TENNYSON'S
_Becket_ on the stage, and himself playing the part of the great
Archbishop. By the side of this ecclesiastic, his _Wolsley_ is, so to
speak, nowhere.
[Illustration: "Bene! Ego sum benedicta!"]
In SHAKSPEARE'S time _Becket_ would have been a difficult subject to
tackle; as indeed did KING HENRY find him,--an uncommonly difficult subject
to tackle. But fortunately for English history in dramatic form, it was
left for TENNYSON to treat the incidents of the story with a free hand,
poetic touch, and a liberal mind. Once, towards the close of the tragedy,
HENRY IRVING, austere, yet pitiful, going "to meet his King," brought to my
thoughts _Savonarola_. Grander far than _Savonarola_ was _Thomas Becket_,
soldier, priest, and martyr.
Then his tender compassion for the unfortunate _Rosamond_, a most difficult
character--nay, a characterless character--for any actress to play!
_Becket_ as archbishop and actor, seems to pity her for being so
colourless. TENNYSON couldn't do without her, yet he could do very little
with her.
Our ELLEN TERRY is a sweet loving gentle figure, clinging to her royal
lover with a sort of fond hope that one of these days things in general
would turn out all right; but in the meantime she is living always "in a
maze." The love-scene (taking place in a marvellously effective stage set)
between her and _Henry_ is charming. Poor _Henry_! With _Eleanor_ the Dark
and _Rosamond_ the Fair,--whom he was obliged to keep dark,--the life of
the monarch, like that of the policeman, was "not a happy one." _Eleanor_
the Queen, as a _divorcée_, was not _Henry's_ wife; but _Rosamond_, if, as
is supposed, the King had married her, was his wife and not his mistress.
It is just this point that ought to be emphasised, in order to give the
right clue to _Eleanor's_ character and conduct in regard to her treatment
of _Rosamond_. _Rosamond_ must be right and virtuous; _Eleanor_ wrong and
vicious; the King fond, weak, and capricious. To regard the whole story as
one of a mere _amour_ is to entirely miss the beauty of the gentle
_Rosamond's_ nature. She is at once "gentle and simple."
And herein seems to me to have been the puzzlement in the poet's mind; he
was in doubt whether to regard _Henry's_ attachment to _Rosamond_ as only a
_liaison_--to represent _Becket_ as so treating it, or to place _Eleanor_
manifestly in the wrong, as being herself _not_ the wife she pretends to
be. "Go to a nunnery, go!" is the end of it all. But at that nunnery, it
seems, _Fair Rosamond_ remained for some time _permissu superiorum_ as, I
suppose, a lady-boarder, not assuming the habit of even a postulant, much
less compelled, as a novice, to be shorn of her hair, and so to appear in
the final Transformation Scene as "The Fair One _without_ the golden
locks." This freedom of action on the part of _Rosamond_ shows what it is
to be a postulant in a convent of a Poetically Licensed Order.
[Illustration]
The Scene of the Martyrdom, "Becket's crown," is thrillingly impressive.
The faithful Monks are well played by Messrs. HAVILAND and BISHOP--a real
Bishop on the Stage, among all these representatives of various sees--while
Mr. FRANK COOPER is a rough-and-ready _Fitzurse_ leader of the four
"King's-men," who, of course, are all Fellows of King's, Cambridge, and
probably, therefore, under the ancient statutes, Old Etonians. Master LEO
BYRNE, aged eleven or thereabouts, makes quite a big part of little
_Geoffrey_, whose affections are divided between Ma, Pa, and his nurse
_Margery_ ("with a song"), the latter capitally played and sung by Miss
KATE PHILLIPS.
Where all the scenery is good, it is difficult, perhaps to single out one
set for especial praise; but my advice is, on no account miss the Second
Scene of the Prologue, "on the Battlements of a Castle in Normandy,"
painted by W. TELBIN. "Rosamond's Bower," by HAWES CRAVEN, is equally
perfect in another and of course totally distinct line. To pronounce upon
Professor STANFORD'S music when "the play's the thing" is impossible. The
_entr'actes_ deserve such special attention as they are not likely to
command when the audience is relaxing and refreshing itself.
On the whole, I should be inclined to say that the Lyceum has not had so
big a success since _Faust_: a success due to the popularity of the subject
represented, and the perfection of its representation. At least so thinks.