THEA TRE Irish Voices

Press, Volume XCVI, Issue 28436, 16 November 1957, Page 3

THEA TRE Irish Voices

[Reviewed by C.E.S.] A Touch of The Poet, A Play in Four Acts, by Eugene O’Neill ; Jonathan Cape, London. 138 PPHow wonderful these Irish' voices can be. That is the reader’s] first response to Eugene O’Neill's last play “A Touch of The Poet." for here, indeed, is a strife of Irish voices. All the fire of the dramatist’s genius is evident, but none of the grandeur. Yet despite the pettiness of the theme and the vulgarly of the characters. O’Neill's brilliance and the sharpness of his vision are as exciting as ever. Once started, the angry; debate whirls on with irresistible] force. Incidentally “A Touch of The, Poet” is an odd name for thej play. O'Neill was not always successful with titles. This one! seems hardly appropriate, if it is sincerely meant; and if it is to be| interpreted ironically it is quite inadequate. Here, then, in what must be one' of the noisiest plays ever to come : to the stage, is a babble of Irish voices, male voices, primed with \yhisky, wrangling. boasting, vapouring; and women’s voices.! slackly sentimental or suddenly! venomous. No-one will deny thatthere is life in “A Touch of Thei Poet;’’ indeed there is too much. It shatters the discipline of four acts; the playwright might as well try to impose order on ! Donnybrook Fair. It is, of course, the central figure' of the drama, Major Cornelius Melody, who is the trouble: He is out of hand throughout thei play, and for O'Neill’s purpose ; fatally incorrigible. Is is only fair to mention that) “A Touch of The Poet” was to be; the first part of a trilogy. No hint! of the theme is given, although,] doubtless, this would have been 1 apparent when the work was com-1 plete. To puzzle out the grand! design will be another task for O’Neill’s compatriot Kenneth' Burke, who has also been his. most discerning critic and com , mentator. Major Melody is a prince' among men, but none the less he has come down in the world j Once an Irish landlord, (nouveau riche, it is true), a dashing cavalry, leader in the Peninsula War, an irresistible Don Juan, he has sunk to keeping a rowdy tavern in a* village a few miles outside Boston. The year in 1829, and the major is still celebrating, in full regimentals, the glorious anniversary of the battle of Talavera, in which he was commended for his bravery by Sir Arthur Wellesley himself. From time to tirrie he lords it over his humbler fellow-countrymen and customers, with intervals for reciting Byron to himself in a mirror. He finds an opportunity to address a lady. “One so beautiful must understand the hearts of men full well, since so many must have given their hearts to you. (A coarse passion comes into his voice). Yes, I’ll wager my all against a penny that even among the fish-blooded Yankees there’s not a man whose heart doesn’t catch flame from your beauty. As mine does now! No! I take my oath by the living God, I would charge a square -of Napoleon’s Old Guard single-handed for one kiss of your lips.” I But, unfortunately. Major . Melody is not content to live in the past. He has far too much ; vitality, and whatever else may be wrong with the tavern, the liquor has always been excellent. So he must assert himself, and in . the most picturesque manner possible. The result is disaster for himself and for everyone connected with him. Finally, after an unsuccessful battle with the police—he had planned to fight a duel in the grand old gentlemanly style instead—he knows he is beaten, completely dishonoured, and he goes out to shoot h'mself. However at the last minute, he shoots instead the thoroughbred mare , that is all that remains to him of his romantic past. He comes back to his family, a gentleman no longer, but simply an Irish peasant, brogue and all, having ' reverted to the rock whence he ' was hewn. Quite candidly, the change is hardly an improvement. He is only a different kind of embarrassment to his miserable < wife and daughter. Mr O’Neill doubtless felt that this sudden collapse of personality was moving, and indeed it :s. even to read. In a well-acted performance its impact could- be , even greater, for O'Neill was a < master of this art. But all the i same, having regard to the way ' in which the character of the major has been built up. this sudden change does not necessarily support the interpretation the playwright has put upon it. On closer examination it is more likely that Melody has merely 1 assumed another mask. As his - daughter says: “He's play-acting ' to amuse himself.” | Here is part of the explanation , he himself gives. "Sure, it’d take ' more than a few clubs on the head ’ to darken my wits long. Me brains, if I have any, is clear u s a ] bell. And I'm not puttin’ on brogue to tormint you. me dar- ! lint. Nor play-actin’. Sara. That was the Major’s game. It’s quare. surely, for the two av ye to object when 1 talk in me natural tongue. ' and yours, and don’t put on airs : loike the late lamented auld liar and lunatic, Major Cornelius ( Melody, av His Majesty's Seventh Dragoons, used to do.” And so on. ' It is hard to believe that tragedy can touch one whose life for forty years has been a sham. As i O’Neill has drawn the character. : it seems more probable that hp would nimbly avoid the unpleasantness of reality and change his disguise. In which case "A Touch of The Poet" is a study in futility, and anything but tragic. If perhaps the playright has expected too much from Cornelius > Melody, the same cannot be jaid of anyone else in the play. O’NeJl 1 has brought them all to vigorous life; they contend one against another. Yet in the event the.v are all proved weak or malevolent. It is not an exhilarating picture; but what makes it remarkable is the deep concern of the play- < wright. which is manifest on every I page. affair shows signs of being sen-i’ ous. and she formally accepts him]' ]as her “novio" he can be invited (and even welcomed to her home. [This pleasant formality has been ; dispensed with since the Civil ; I War. and young people now meet freely. This book displays much know’- ■ ledge, and is never dull, but a 1 glossary of Spanish words, and an ' index would be a help to the ’ reader. i