"Fishpingle."
_Sir Geoffrey Pomfret_, "that almighty man, the county god," claimed to
exercise the same divine right over the souls of his village that he
exercised, in the matter of breeding, over the bodies of his cattle and
pigs. Nothing, I think, has brought the present War more closely home to
my bosom than the humours of this feudal relic--taken in all seriousness
by everyone, including the author. It seems almost inconceivable that
Mr. VACHELL's play deals with conditions that still survived only a few
years ago. Yet the Squire's devotion to the science of eugenics
establishes its date as quite recent. It was his sole taint of
modernity; and indeed where his own son's marriage was concerned he
omitted to apply his scientific principles, and made a choice for him in
which no regard was paid to eugenics, but only to established social
traditions.
At first the play opened up prospects of a pleasant gaiety. A love
scene, conducted in a rich Western brogue, between the _Squire_'s
footman and his still-room maid, and the embarrassment caused by her
eagerness to learn the philosophy of "eujanics," were full of promise.
It was confirmed by the appearance of Mr. AINLEY, whose manner reminded
us of his many triumphs in the art of eccentric detachment. His
part--the title-rôle--was that of _Sir Geoffrey's_ faithful butler, on
such familiar, though respectful, terms with his master that the two
sipped port together in the former's room in broad daylight while
discussing family matters. They took an unconscionable time about it,
but, as I said, it promised well. However, Mr. VACHELL had other designs
than our mere amusement. We were not to have our comedy without paying
for it with our heart's blood. Very soon the shadow of melodramatic
pathos and mystery crept over the sunny scene. _Fishpingle_ takes a box
from a cupboard and glances at a miniature and a bundle of letters.
There is illegitimacy in the air, and a lady near me in the stalls
confides to her neighbour that "he's the _Squire's_ half-brother." I
can't think where she got her information, for the rest of us never
learned the facts of the mystery till the very end of the evening, and
even then the details of _Fishpingle's_ origin only transpired (as they
say) under extreme pressure arising out of his dismissal by his master
on the strength of a violent disagreement about fundamentals.
_Sir Geoffrey's_ father, it seems, had before his marriage run away with
a girl not of his own rank, who had generously refused to spoil the
family tree by marrying him; and _Fishpingle_ was the result. You might
judge from the peculiarity of his surname that the matter was taken
lightly by his parents. But you would be wrong. His mother died when he
was born, and his first name (for I cannot call it a Christian name) was
_Benoni_, which, being interpreted, means "the child of sorrow." _Sir
Geoffrey's_ grandmother, who had discouraged the legal adjustment of the
relationship between the lovers, had tried to repair matters by
educating _Fishpingle_ above the obscurity of his irregular birth; hence
his comparative erudition, rare in a butler.
[Illustration: THE BREED OF THE POMFRETS.
_Fishpingle_ (_to himself_). "How anybody can fail to see the
extraordinary family likeness between us I cannot imagine."
_Fishpingle_.... Mr. Henry Ainley.
_Sir Geoffrey Pomfret_. Mr. Allan Aynesworth.]
Now the opening of the play had put me into a mood which was not the
right one for the reception of this extract from a deplorable past. Some
comedies would be all the better for a little tragic relief; but this
was too much. Mr. VACHELL had no business to give his play a title like
_Fishpingle_. He should have called it "Nature's Nobleman, or The
Tragical Romance of a Faithful Butler's Birth," and then I might have
known what to expect. As it was I felt aggrieved. It was not, of course,
a question of asking for my money back at the doors (critics, to be just
to them, never do this in the case of a complimentary seat), but I felt
I had a right to protest against this attempt to harrow my
heart-strings, attuned as they were to the key of comedy, with a painful
drama dating back to more than half a century before the rise of the
curtain, and with its chief actors all dead. And the irritating mystery
in which it was wrapped only made things worse. Further, I suffered a
considerable strain on both my head and my heart in consequence of
obscure hints (vaguely involving a photograph on his mantelpiece) as to
the reason why _Fishpingle_ remained a bachelor to the bitter end.
But I am ashamed to appear flippant, for Mr. AINLEY played with
exquisite feeling and a fine sincerity. And I have to thank Mr. VACHELL
for giving us some excellent studies of character--not character
developed before our eyes by circumstance (except perhaps a little at
the last), but admirably observed as a kind of fixture to be taken with
the house.
And if the play is not quite on the high level of Mr. GALSWORTHY'S _The
Eldest Son_, which it faintly recalls, it is much more worthy of Mr.
VACHELL'S gifts than the poor thing, _Penn_, which died so young. Also
he is very much more fortunate this time in his cast. Miss MARION TERRY,
as _Lady Pomfret_, was a pattern of sweet graciousness; and Mr. ALLAN
AYNESWORTH was at his happiest as _Sir Geoffrey_. And the two pairs of
lovers, Mr. CYRIL RAYMOND and Miss MAUD BELL above stairs, and Mr.
REGINALD BACH and Miss DORIS LYTTON below (they were really all of them
on the ground floor, the butler's room being the common trysting-place),
served as delightful examples of natural selection--both on their own
part and that of the management--and were as fresh and healthy as the
most eugenical could desire.