The Decadence of the Stage.

Auckland Star, Volume XX, Issue 7, 9 January 1889, Page 7

The Decadence of the Stage.

An Interview with Mivfiement Scott

n m X _/ R Clement Scotx ■'" _?IWmI c -"aV _5» nas 3 usfc celebrated _._rf!l___r^_a_f_ _■ i _• <•_! f f i c com Pl e tion of the I iwts'ii£~' I i twenty - fifth year ViP____Bffi_' 1. wn^cn ne nas spent J? a in dramatic criticism. a__ar g e ._ un( i on _f- e( j|y one of the first of living authorities upon fche modern stage, and we have tharefore much satisfaction in printing the folio k in o report of an Interview with so eminent a critic upon the present position and moral tendency of the stage in London. Anything that Mr Clement Scott says on the subject will naturally attract universal attention throughout the profession, and we venture to hope that his candid outspoken confession may lead to a free and vigorous expression of the views of other authorities -manacrerial, critical, etc.—on this important subject. In the course of an interview, the report of which we append, Mr Clement bcott was asked the following question :— ' ' Has the stage grown more or less useful from a moral and educational point of view m 25 years ?' Mr Scobb made this notable reply: 'I believe that the advance cf education and the cheapening of literature have done immense harm bo the literary aud poetical stage. In-old days people Went to bhe sbage to lcurn ; now they come to be amused. The) learned Shakspeare at Sadler's Wells (Phelps) and the Princess's [Charles Kean): they read it at home now for sixpence. The taste for elevated and Elevating sbage work was never so low as 'now. Its censurers were never before so pitiless, so scathing, or so irreverent. The most conscientious manager must tremble when he puts the honest labour of months of toil and study before the stalls who sneer and bhe pit that howls at an instant's error. I wish I could see audiences more devoted to bhe art, more earnest, more tolerant, and less obstructive.'

Mr Clernenb Scobb is no Puritan. He is a man of the world, with a high conception of the functions of a theatrical critic. In reply to a question as to the dramatic criticism of an which has witnessed euch a depravation of the public taste, he said :—

' I believe it to be an honestly genuine expression of individual opinion, and tliat the reviews of stage plays are in the hands of men absolutely incapable of an ungenerous thought or a discreditable action. They may be right and they may be wrong, but their hearts are open and their hands are clean.'

Vie asked Mr Scott a searching question as to whether he considered the stage n place where women could remain moral and respectable, and what advice he would give young ladies who wished to go upon the stage. This was his reply :-

'My advice would be, "For heaven's sake pause !" There 13 always an opening on the stage for real talent, true genius; but the talent and genius of sbage aspirants must not be taken at their own estimate, -nere are hundreds and thousands of pure, moral, and respectable women on the but the atmosphere of the theatre is trying to the healthy moral constitution. A woman not born and bred in the profession, avowedly of a theatrical stock, must, in a certain sense, lose her self-respect and encounter familiarities, temptations, and outlets for the disp'ay of natural vanity troin which good women should be safeguarded. A woman may take a header into a whirlpool and be miraculously saved --but then she may be drowned. If a girl knows how to take care of herself she can go anywhere; but I should be sorry to expose godesty to the shock of that worst kind of temptation—a frivolous disregard of woman*y purity. One out of a hundred may be 'Me, bub even she must hear things that she had . better not listen bo and wibness things that she had better not see. In jj v ery class of life women are exposed to dangers and bemptabions ; but far more in «ne theatre than elsewhere. All honour Jjjd Praise to tliem when they brave them

Mr Clement Scott, it will bo seen, is quite as candid as Mr Hollingshead in admitting the worst thab the Puritans allege againsb the theatre. ' One out of a hundred may oe safe;' ' the atmosphere of bhe theatre is crying to the healthy moral constitution.' This is the verdict of bhe edibor of the ' Theatre,'and the dramatic critic who for 25 years has made it his professional j business to watch the development of bhe j modern drama. Of the stage itself Mr Clement Scott is an enthusiast. He says :— ' I believe thoroughly in its humanising, possibilities. I am of the opinion that half ihe wretchedness and sorrow that we see around us could be soothed by the touch of nature, by music-, by sweetness, and light. No audience that I have ever come across is incapable of fine feeling. Deep in the lirtiesb heart is some pure corner. If I jpold have my way I would try the effect ff taming our savages with beautiful music, j .omely language, and gentle thoughts.' Supposing you had tho supreme control >ver the English theatres, would you stop inch shows as bhe Gaiety gives ibs customers? )r, to pir that question in another form, ioyou think thedisplayof woman's eharmsafc burlesque theatres likely to have a healthy inihieuee on public morals ? ' Surely it is unfair to select the Gaiety as the arch type of a reprehensible theatre. The Gaiety entertainment of to-day is in no sense worse than the Lyceum extravaganzas of the days of Planche and Madame Vestris in 1848, The music and words, at any rate, are pure. I believe excitable, sensuous music that fires the brain and warms the blood to be infinitely more demoralising then tbe senseless rows of undraped girls with their silly faces and eternal goose step. If I wanted to disgust a boy with all that is unennobling and uninteresting in woman, I would take him behind the scenes. It would soon cure him. When husbands and fathersinduce their wivesand daughters bo dress decently in the stalls, we shall have no tasbe for nakedness on the stage. A decenb audience results in a decent enbertainm en t.' Considering what Mr Scott had just bold us concerning the degradation of the public taste which has gone on side by side with the spread of education and the increased love of literature, this dictum seems to imply that there is very little hope for improvement. We append the report of the rest of the interview without further comment. ' And not killed yet ?' remarked one ol our representatives to Mr Scott a3 he entered his charming little ' den.' overlooking Lincoln's-inn-Fields. 'No; nob dead yet, nob even aweary,' replied bhe well-known critic, emerging from behind the escritoire at which he was writing. Indeed, Mr Scott looked as fresh as an athlete in tip-top training,, a comparison suggested by the startling blue and blacK blazer which he was wearing. ■ I say startling (writes our contributor) because one is accustomed at first nights to see Mr Scott, enveloped in the mystic folds ol a sombre cape. He disenvelops himself, adjusts his stall, allows himself a hasty glance round the auditorium, then fronts the footlights, and holds himself aloof from human intercour.se until the curtain ciro; ; s. 'I am called morose,' mused the critic, ' because I decline to join in the chatter ol bhe flcmuers. I assure you I am the least morose of men, bub when I go to a theatre x go to work, and I do not care to have my attention distracted by irresponsible jabber.' , , ' 'It is always said that actors and actresses are nervous on a lirst night. Does a veteran critic suffer from the same emotion, Mr Scott ?' T . , 'They are not more nervous than 1, let me assure you. Remember that when l leave the theatre at half-past 11 o clock i. have to go straight to my office and write a column 'or a column and a half—that is, from two thousand to three thousand words—in an hour and a half or two hours, knowing full well that what I write will be read by a million people. I am nervous rlest my judgment .should fail me, and anxious that my verdict should be a just one. Of course ib is human bo err, but i try to err as seldom and as slightly as possible. Rome people think thab 1 am supplied with plots and details, or that l write half of what appears beforehand ; but that is quite a mistake. I decline aU otters for dress rehearsals, and prefer to write my i articles from the first impression. I ______

walk from tiie theatre, and frame what I intend to say in my mind, and, it possible, I always construct the first sentence, which is often a stumbling block.' ' Do you find the strain very heavy ?' ' During the last few years the number of theatres has increased enormously, and tho strain has become heavier. A few weeks ago I sat through 14 performances in .six days. Nub bad, I think you will admit ?' ' That includes matinees ?' 'Of course. The matinee is the critic's curse and the manager's good genius. That astute gentleman invites you te matinee after matinee. In a year you may find a dozen pieces that are worth putting in the evening bill. They are manager's gains. The trial costs him nothing, and he may turn up a trump. The critic is the sufferer. His paper is competing with other papers ; the piece may be good, therefore he cannot afford to neglect it. Only a general boycott by the papers could stop the evil.' ' If it is not too personal a matter, I should like to ask how an actor bears with you if you have elated him—"slated," I believe, is the right term. He, of course, is perfectly aware bhab you are bhe writer oi the article.' *

1 Ifc passes over,' replied the critic, 'if he is v, sensible man. I have only done my luty to the public, and to them alone am responsible for my opinion. Of course the relations between an acbor and a cribic must necessarily be sometimes strained if both happen to belong to the same club ; bub surely ib is no worse than the case of the barristers who light in court and are friendly liter. I should like, by the way, to say .hat I do not style myself a critic in the pedantic sense of the word. I approach a new play as a correspondent would who is ;enb bo give a description of a great unction. I certainly endeavour to apportion praise and blame, bufc I also :ry to give a vivid description of the play, is photographic as I can make it.' ' You are also a playwright, Mr Seotfc ? ' ' Yes ; bub I have determined to give up ny efforts in that direction. lam misunderstood, and it is almost impossible tocom-nn-i the critic and the playwright without roe's motives beingopen to misconstruction.' Then Mr Scott opened a heavy oaken ■abinet which stood between the windows, ..i>:l produced from its dark interior a charming little silver casket, which was presented to him as a small tribute by th€ London managers on attaining the silvei wedding of Mr Scott and the English stage. Before continuing the conversation he took me into a second little den which contained tons of theatrical literature, including many dusty volumes of the ' Era, ; which Mr Scott said wibh a sigh consbibubed the only history of the modern stage that we possessed. ' Some day I may write one myself, but it is a difficult task. Here, you see, are some of the materials,' and lie opened a glass case and showed me little wood boxes full of the correspondence of years with the most prominent theatrical lights of the stage.

' 1 began to work for the theatre 25 years ago,' continued Mr Scott, as we returned to his sanctum, ' and here,' showing me a sheet of blue paper stating that he was the representative of the ' Sunday Times,' are my credentials. In those days there was a free list, on which we were all placed. Now such lists do not exist, tickets fo admission being sent as occasion calls. In those days no one cared for the theatre, and the notices were kept very short. I joined the staff of bhe ' Telegraph ' in 1869. It is Mr Levy who leally ought bo be thanked for the exhaustive manner in which the drama is now treated by the press. He introduced the idea into the ' Telegraph, : and the other dailies were compelled tc follow. Then came bhe Bancrofts, who raised the prices, mounted their plays sumptuously and wibh taste. The theatrebecame fashionable, and was taken up by society, and now it nourishes.' 'By bhab am I bo understand tliat the drama depends upon the patronage oi society ?'

'By no means. Society gave the stage a hand when it wanted it, bub now the stageis well able to help itself.' ' As a critic of 25 years' standing, with a great knowledge of the managerial aspect of the theatre, perhaps you could tell mi why good plays are so difficuifc to get. One often hears that the cruel manager nevei opens the manuscripts which are submitted to him. Can this be true V

' Good plays are so difficult to get because liyy a;o .--i • iuicult to write. 'iimy i - c_Uiii ( very strange combination of talent and sxperience. I don't think managers aro too _, and managers would be fools if they refused to exercise the ordinary tests foi the discovery _f gold *;__f>e. The amateui who Las written Of"'/"-p_jpis the vainest and most egotistical of / n ilais. He is the worry of my life. l*-j_ould fill a volume with anecdotes of t..ese coxcombs who grovel to get ;i '! notice," and then insinuate " motive" when the truth is told. The*, are mere apprentices, and they how! because they aro nob master masons.' ' May I ask you tc answer a much disrwsed question ? Is ifc possible fcr a powerful difcic, representing a powerful organ with '' the largest circulation in bin world," to damn a good play or save a bad one ?' 4 Absolutely impossible. The public decides the fortunes of a play, not the critic. The critic has the first word, and if he knows his business anticipates bhe publio verdict, that is all. An enthusiastic notice often adds to the fortune of a play if ib be cordially endorsed by the public, but often a scathing and indignant protest against what i* unworthy in art and disgusting in taste secures a success by curiosity.' ' Do you never receive threatening letters, or are. you bored by tlie thunder of anonymity ?' ' I receive scurrilous, signed letters, and filthy anonymous letters by the hundred. I have been accused of every known form of crime in the exercise of a most arduous and disagreeable duby. But I console myself with the reflection thab if bhere were one word ot brubh in these spiteful and envious utterances I should nob have earned the valuable confidence of my employer, or retained my post for 25 hours. I have withstood the storm for 25 year.--'.'