The following communications have found their way into the Editor's
box at 85, Fleet Street, and are published that their writers may
claim them. As most of the signatures were more or less illegible,
it has been considered advisable to suppress them, to prevent the
possibility of mistakes. The only exception that has been made to this
rule is in the case of the last letter, wherein seemingly is summed up
the moral of the controversy.
_Communication No. 1, dated Tuesday._
Is it not time, considering that there is nothing of particular
interest attracting public attention, that a protest should be raised
against the "Society" plays which occupy the stages of some of
our best theatres? You see I pave the way to my gentle reproof by
buttering up vested interests. To do this the better, I will say
something nice about "our most capable actors," and write "I remember
BUCKSTONE, and SOTHERN, the BANCROFTS, and, aye, Mr. TREE himself."
This will prove that there is no malice in my suggestions.
Let me describe the piece to which, in the dead season of the year,
I object. The plot is centred in the love for each other of a
partially-reclaimed lady and an opium-drinking gentleman; I might use
stronger expressions, but I know your paper is intended for the family
rather than the dress-circle, and my language is therefore modulated
to meet the modest requirements of the case. Take it from me, Sir,
that the story of these two individuals is nauseous and degrading.
I say that its unravelling should not be foisted on the public in a
modern play. But that you may not consider my impressions libellous,
I add that the piece is finely staged, and in parts well written. For
all that, I cannot imagine why the manager, with his lofty ideas of
the function of a theatre as a medium of education, has permitted
himself to produce it. And if that observation does not draw the
manager in question, my name is not X. Y. Z.
_Communication No. 2, dated Wednesday._
Your anonymous contributor "of London" (mark the sarcasm!) was right
in imagining that I would be drawn. I consider it my duty to Mr.
HENRY ARTHUR JONES to say something about his "accustomed combative
geniality," and to Mr. HADDON CHAMBERS to refer to his "cheery
stoicism." I will also allude to Mr. PINERO, but as he is not writing
for my theatre just now, merely record my conviction that he will be
able to survive the sneers against _The Second Mrs. Tanqueray_--"a
play which has made a deep and lasting impression on the thinking
public." And when I write "lasting," I am the more obliging, as I
assume the _rôle_ of a prophet. It will be "lasting," I am sure. The
"thinking public," of course, are those admirable and intellectual
persons who fill the stalls and boxes of my theatre, and the stalls
and boxes of kindred establishments.
And, while I am talking of "thinking," let me insist that the
criticism of the piece by the anonymous one "of London" (mark the
irony!) is not a personal matter, but a question that affects the
freedom of the thinking community. This is a generation that has
outgrown "the skirts of the young lady of fifteen"; and it behoves all
to understand the meaning of that apt sentence, and to regard with a
jealous eye any attempt to crib, cabin, and confine the development
of contemporary thought. "Crib, cabin, and confine" is also good,
and entirely worthy of your serious consideration. At a time when the
stalls are 10_s._ 6_d._, and the family-circle available to those who
will not run to gold, is a literary dandy (in whose stained forefinger
I seem to detect the sign of an old journalistic hand) to pass a
vote of censure on SHAKSPEARE because, forsooth, _Hamlet_ was
not forgotten? I trust not. And shall the public (mark you the
intellectual, the praiseworthy--in a word, the "thinking public") be
debarred from taking their piece in their favourite theatre because,
forsooth, there is an interesting correspondence in newspapers in the
dullest season of the decrepit old year? Again--I trust not.
_Communication No. 3--once more dated Wednesday._
I beg to ask your permission, as an old playgoer, to see myself in
print. I do not pretend to be able to write myself, but an eminent
_littérateur_, in a recent number of a popular monthly magazine,
has done good service by enforcing the untruthful character of the
"problem" pieces recently presented to the public audiences. I have
not the ability to comment on this unpleasant phase of the histrionic
profession, so merely observe (with a recollection of an old-world
story) "them's my sentiments."
_Communication No. 4, dated Thursday._
No doubt this letter will reach you with many others, with signatures
anonymous and otherwise. Being a bit spiteful I will confine myself
to five lines in the hope of gaining insertion. Are not pieces with
"girls with a past" played out? Then why slay the slain? I am sure
healthier work will now be submitted to the public. And when that
happy time arrives there will be found on my bookshelves certain
brown-paper-covered tomes that are waiting the inspection of every
actor-manager in London. Need I say more? You yourself, Sir, will
practically answer the question.
_Communication No. 5, dated Friday._
Permit me to keep the ball a rolling. Why is the "young lady of
fifteen" to be alone protected? Are not the boys and girls of an older
growth to be also preserved from contamination? What is to be done for
that large class of playgoers who have entered their second childhood?
_Communication No. 6, dated Saturday._
Now that a piece at present being played at a West-End theatre has
been well advertised for a whole week in the more largely-read columns
of a most influential daily paper, it is to be sincerely hoped that
_Box_ and _Cox_ are satisfied.
(SIGNED)