Of course, to speak with theological accuracy, _The Tempter_, being
the "very devil incarnate," ought to be "damned." That this has
not been his fate at the Haymarket is owing to Mr. BEERBOHM TREE
primarily, to his company secondarily, and to the author remotely. To
treat in any fresh dramatic form the story of _Faust and Marguerite_,
a dramatist must be the subject of a special and peculiar inspiration.
Now what this play lacks is inspiration.
What in this piece ENRY HAUTHOR JONES mistook for the "divine
afflatus" is mere long-windedness. His _Tempter_ may be an entertainer
assuming various disguises, and more and more like himself on every
occasion, but a real devil he is not, except so far as Mr. TREE with
wonderful art makes him; and, even then, the question is forced
upon us, would any devil with any sort of self-respect, pick up a
cross-handled dagger just as if it were an ordinary walking-stick, and
politely return it to its owner? This is the first time that a
devil on the stage hasn't shuddered and grovelled at the sight of
a cross-handle. Again, how far more effective would some of the
supernatural movements of this irreclaimably wicked personage have
been had they been performed by means of some clever arrangement
of "wires," such as that with which Mlle. AENEA used to astonish the
public? Where are the stage mechanists who assisted GEORGE CONQUEST,
that unique representative of sprites and gnomes, who achieved success
by "leaps and bounds?"
Fortunately the piece does not depend for its success on mere
mechanism, but on the acting of Mr. TREE, which is in all respects
admirable in its diabolical variety; much depends, too, on Mrs.
TREE, who is charming and sympathetic in a small part. Mr. TERRY,
who occasionally, in tone and look, reminds me of HENRY IRVING,
contributes his share towards the general histrionic excellence, as
also does Miss JULIA NEILSON, who in tone and action frequently
makes me wish that once and for ever she would give up attempting
an imitation of ELLEN TERRY. But be it said that the acting of this
couple is remarkably good in the love scene, as it is also in the very
trying death scene, which could have been so easily and so utterly
ruined.
[Illustration: "Arbor in Arbore." A Wood Engraving.]
The author is at his best in his curt, cynical sentences. Epigrams are
few and far between in the play, but what there are go to the devil,
that is, are given to the "Old Gentleman," with the best possible
result. ENRY HAUTHOR is at his worst in the long speeches, not one
of which, no matter to whom it may fall, but would be the better for
cutting. Of course, suggestions for abbreviating the _Tempter_'s
part would not be favourably entertained by the principal actor,
as, naturally enough, any Tree objects to being cut down: and as his
personal success is too decided for him to be "cut up," the Tree will
have to remain, though lopping and pruning would be advantageous to
the growth and strength of this Tree now that it has assumed these
proportions. And the moral? Well, GOETHE, I think, in the poem was a
trifle hazy about the ultimate fate of his lovers; but in the opera
there is no doubt about it. With _Marguerite_ it was "Here we go up,
up, up," and with _Faust_ it was just the reverse: but the operatic
_Faust_ will always "go down" when sung and played as it was this
season at Covent Garden. I forget what BOITO does with his erring
couple, but where Mr. JONES'S demon resembles BOITO'S, and also
BYRON'S, Satan, is in his monologues addressed directly to the Supreme
Being. But those Satans were Fallen Archangels of Heaven; this of
'ENRY HAUTHOR'S is a Fallen Angel of Islington. This illogical demon
sneers at one of the characters for not using language sufficiently
strong to express his feelings; yet when his own turn comes his
blasphemy is vulgar, and so mild that not the sternest magistrate
would like to fine him for it. And strange to say, in one passage
(which most persons would have deemed objectionable, did it not
come to them on the authority of the Lord Chamberlain's Theatrical
Licensing office), the Prince of Darkness shows himself a gentleman
curiously ignorant of such elementary Christian theology as he could
have picked up from a penny catechism. How Mr. TREE was ever in-deuced
to attempt the _Tempter_ by ENRY HAUTHOR, will remain a mystery to the
end of the run, and if that should be in the far distant future,
the mystery will be Tree-mendous, and absolutely impenetrable. The
costumes are artistic and superb, the scenery effective, though the
majestic proportions of Canterbury Cathedral are rather dwarfed by the
imposing figure of the Very Deuce, who is "all over the place."
* * * * *
Morning Thought.
(_By a chilly Autumn Guest at a Country House._)
_GR-R-R-R!_ No fire in the grate--for our hostess is thrifty--
Although the thermometer stands below fifty!
Well, I wish to be courteous and sober;
But the _biggest_ of pests is that pig of a host--
In a climate like ours, too!--who makes it his boast
That "he _never_ starts fires till October!"
* * * * *
A GOOD KICK-OFF.--The "Rugby" decision against "professional"
football. Let us hope it will be followed by an equally energetic
"kick-out" of the growing "rowdy" element in this popular, if somewhat
over-praised, "National game." All good sportsmen long to see a
"penalty kick" administered to blackguardism in the football field.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE PERSONAL EQUATION.
_Ducal Butler_ (_showing Art Treasures of Stilton Castle_). "THE THREE
GRACES--AFTER CANOVA!"
_Mrs. Ramsbotham._ "HOW INTERESTING! AND PRAY, WHICH IS THE _PRESENT_
DUCHESS?"]
* * * * *