LONDON DRAMATIC LETTER.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6136, 24 March 1898, Page 2

LONDON DRAMATIC LETTER.

[CORBEBPONDENT " CANTEBBURY TIMES."] LONDON, Jan. 14. " PETER THE GREAT " AT THE LYCEUM. The event of the week has been the production at the Lyceum by Sir Henry Irving of Peter the Great, the play of his son, Mr Lawrence Irving. The latter was well qualified for the task, for he is a cultured scholar, and has spent several yearß of his life in Eussia. The result was looked forward to with great expectations. The play was artistically a gloomy failure. Had it been written by anyone but an Irving, and played by anyone but Sir Henry, the critics would have cut it up to mincemeat. As it is, they let both father and son down as lightly as possible. It takes five dreary acts to unfold what is a comparatively simple story, the endeavour of Peter to get his son Alexis to take up the work he has begun for Russia, the son's weak vacillation and flight in terror to Naples to avoid the " blood and torture " upon which his father's domination of Eussia is based, his apprehension, trial and violent death after a farewell interview with Peter. The first three acts drag their weary length along in depressing dualogues between Peter and his son, in which Alexis takes scarcely any part. The fourth and fifth are the vulgarest melodrama. The play opens in the Kremlin, where a section of the nobles opposed to Peter's rough rule and headed by Jacob Ignatieff, the confessor of Alexis, are discussing the elevation of Alexis to the throne of Eussia, should Peter, who is away fighting the Turks, be defeated. News arrives of Peter's defeat and capture, and Jacob proclaims Alexis as king to the people assembled in the streets without the palace. But Alexis wavers between his desire to be Czar and his fear of his father, and never shows himself to the people who are clamouring for a sight of him. Nor will he take the responsibility of signing the order for the release of his mother Eudoxia, who has been divorced by Peter and immured in prison to enable the latter to marry his mistress the boisterous Catherine. In the midst of the confusion Peter comes swaggering in noisy and violent, bemoans his. defeat. j drag3 the unhappy Eudoxia from the midst i of the band of conspirators who have j released her from prison and are sheltering ] her, sentences them to death, and brags and blusters like a bully until his fury is appeased by Catherine's arrival in man's attire, who beg6 for pardon. Peter relents, I and declares that the conspirators shall work at the building of St Petersburg, his new city which is to rise out of the waters. I When the men at arms and courtiers who have been crowding the apartment, and , who have been standing round idly watching Peter's tantrums, have left, and Peter is alone with his son, the great monarch tries in his rough way to win the affection of the youth, who had fled at his approach, and to discover what profession Alexis wishes to adopt. But the shy boy shrinks from his. father and only answers "Yes, father," and "No, father," to the latter's questions. The only wish he has is to marry Euphrosine, j a miserable courtesan, who breaks in upon : the interview, but he has not even the pluck to ask his father's permission to that. Peter determines to make a soldier of the unpromising lad whom he has destined for his successor, arid who he hopes will carry on his plans for^the.buijdin£:up' ; ■of ftussia. ."•:'•. :::.-,.■■*.■'': >-'ri'<\~''? : r . '' ■I' But \ the : wretched yputhy «ven- ; afr&'fc Petersburg, where -be sees iiir;f ather's infc Qonrita ble eiiergy ftn'dvTSrayeryr, '"maunders ' alternately over v Thomas:a;Keinpi.s and his despicable mistress, and lies to his father when the latter examines him on his military studies. Alexis meekly expresses his wish to abdicate, which so enrages Peter that, with the words ■" A monastery or my work " thrice repeated, he stalks angrily out of the room. But, with the aid of a iriend, Alexis and Euphrosine escape to Naples, only to be pursued by the crafty Tolstoi, who all along has been working for Alexis' death in the hope of his own advancement. Euphrosine betrays her lover, who,is taken back to St Petersburg to stand his trial on a charge of plotting against his father's life. The soldiers, nobles and ecclesiastics, headed by torch-bearers, assemble in the circular hail of the Senate, each quaking lest the trial should be his own. Tolstoi presides, over the deliberations. Peter takes his seat at the table, attired in top boots and a gorgeous geranium-pink gown, and bußies himself in callously whittling at a model of a ship, correcting proofs of a history, and prodding a sleeping soldier with his stick while bis son is accused. Alexis is brought in to face his accusers, and shrinks with horror when he finds that he is accused. Shrieks and groans are heard outside,, and from the torture chamber come to bear witness against him miserable wretches wilh white faces and bloodshot eyes, haggard and writhing with the horrible tortures to 'which they have been subjected to extract evidence, each greeted with a shriek by the despairing Alexis, who becomes frantic when he sees Euphrosine, untortured and willingly betraying her plover. , Even worm will turn, and for the first and last time Alexis shows a little spirit, and abuses his accusers and his father, telling the latter that it is he who is ojh his trial for his bloody tortures. Eudoxia, who is listening in the gallery, shrieks, Catherine utters occasional blunt expostulations, Peter behaves with levity aud brutality. The Court pronounces sentence of death on Alexis, and breaks up in disorder, for the father of one of Peter's victims makes a rush forward to assassinate the Czar, and is dragged out foaming at the mouth and shrieking, "He cut my son's tongue out." Peter is left alone with his eon's death warrant before him. He hesitates Jong, .Mr feelings as a father conflicting with those as a great ruler in a long ranting soliloquy. Finally he decides that for Eussia's welfare Alexis must die and, the curtain, falls on . the unhappy father huddled oh the ground in the dim hall, moaning "my Absalom, my ! Absalom." A last interview between father and son in the casemate of the prison leads to a sort of reconciliation between them in these farewell but somewhat inexplicable words : — Peter : The waste of all your life will be repaired. We have been hardly dealt with. Alexis : Father, we have. (Eushes into his arms). Your life has been more nobly spent than mine. And I will lay mine down for you. Peter : For Eussia ! In this last moment I have known you for nyy son. For this last moment I.have lived in you. Alexis : For the duty I have failed in father, forgive me ! Peter : And if I have failed in love, forgive me, son ! Alexis : Yet it is better that I should die. For I should fail in duty to you again. Peter: And I might fail again in love to y° u - o The cup or poison is carried across the stage. Alexis is led away by his executioners. A loud shriek and a gasp tell of his violent death, for which his father is seen listening. It is the anniversary of Poltava, and as the lifeless body of Alexis is dragged in Peter cries :—" Let Poltava have her glory. And let it mingle with his requiem. He made fullest atonement at the last. I honour him. Let Eussia honour him. He was my son, my own*, my very son." (Curtain falls amidst chanting of choir, tolling of bell, and blare of approaching military bands). Mr Lawrence Irving's idea seems to have been to contrast Peter, the blunt determined man of action who intends to make his country united and glorious bv a policy of vigorous force, with Alexis the dreamer, a Eussian Hamlet who would gain the affection of -his peoDlo by giving them love and u e U One must give way, an d Peter like Lucius Jumus Brutus sacrifices his son fn the Avelfare of his country The conception is a good one, but it is mostinadequatelvcar riedout. Alexis is a contemptible whini^" snivelling poltroon, without one IS of manliness in him. '• Mute, mute ,3™ amte," is Peter's angry description of him"

"He never thinks, declares the crafty Tolstoi planning his downfall. . ■ He hasn't even enough " gumption " to see that his mistress Euphrosine is a brazen faithless baggage. He is always turning his eyes up and hanging his head, wringing hit) hands, shrieking at the sight of blood, and behaving like a love-sick molly-coddle. After he has been on the stage for five minutes he is more monotonously depressing than a mute at a funeral. It ib impossible to feel the slightest sympathy for him or his fate, and one fails to understand how a man of penetration like Peter the Great could ever have imagined that such a ninny could have followed in his own footsteps or could have attempted to make a soldier out of such a cringing liar. The real Peter would have wrung the neckß of Alexis and Euphrosine, and the world would have said that Eussia was well rid of both. The struggle that is supposed to rage in Peter's breast between duty and affection, and is the pivot on which the play turns, is pointless, for no father could have felt any love at all for the drivelling idiot depicted by the drama* tist, or have thought that the interests of Russia could be in any way served by his destruction. Peter too, shows no Bigns of " Great "-ness in the play. He makes a great bustle, puts his feet on tables, shies things about, pulla his courtiers by the ear, and generally behaves ct 2a Petruchio when he is surrounded by his subjects, who have never a word to say for themselves. The real Peter would doubtless have done all this, but to see the Czar storming in his palace like a potman in a passion, while the supers hang about in a circle and the action of the play drags, is not drama. " Cut the cackle and come to the 'oases " | is the sentiment that the audience would express — if it dared. With the reality of ! this side of Peter's character, however, there is little fault to find, but the real Peter would never, when left to himself, have indulged in the long-winded philosophical, psychological and nineteenthcentury introspective soliloquies which Mr Irving has put into his mouth, and which only bore. the audience. One feels that P^eer has given up hon as a hopis selesß job, and is only splitting straws and endeavouring to justify the course he has determined on, and that no real, poignant conflict is going on within him. Hesitation | was not ft frftft. Of F9tyv% H°lL wHS i mental dialysis. Instead of Peter the Great we have Peter the Termagant and Peter the Philosopher. The result is not satisfactory either as a psychological, study or a display of acting. The role shows Irving at his worst. All his j most objectionable mannerisms are accen- , tuated, the nasal twang, the faulty elocuI tion, which even a most favourable critic ! admtts renders a quarter of his remarks inaudible, the melodramatio drag of the \ legs, the plucking at the collar, the j " spread-eagleism " of the limbs, with all | five fingers stretched wide to display in- | tense emotion, the gasp in the throat, the I old familiar " ah-ha-ha-ha's " ; they are all there. Now and again there is "an outburst of eloquent silence," and then the ranting ib renewed. The "knock-about" business and the " horrors" are piled on thickly aud inartistically in the play. Peter is always I tweaking someone by the ear, punching a : courtier or terrifying a woman. Alexiß is dragged to the balcony to Bee a child run over, and recoils shrieking, while the barbarities of the trial scene and the ostentatious display of the "cup of cold poison," the " hishings "j-and - " ahrha-ha-ijjjjs "^ are"Btrofigiy.^eiSi^eM^f some blboa"-; curdling Richardson's-show. '■":■■{. v ■■:.,■ :••«■;.,».' -So much i blood and : thunder requires illuminating^ by ;;,a , .few vivid, ;of hSimd'ur.'- : T'he humour, however^ wafe that of the wash-tub. The conv.ersation<>f Catherine the Courtesan -Empress and Euphrosine the would be ditto opens with much " dear "-ing, and terminates with a box on the ears and tu qnoque references to " bad women." Catherine, a replica of her Madame Sans-Gene, is capitally played by Ellen Terry, who does her best to bring into prominence the womanly side of the character, and to keep in the background that which leads Peter to ask "What was she before I married herP" She has only about forty lines, and has to eke out her business by putting her feet on the table, tucking up her skirts and pulling on her high, boots. Boots are the most important " props " in the play. All the chief players wear top boots, and take care to let you know it. Peter displays his boots on the furniture, throws them off to swim the Neva, and Catherine drags hers on ostentatiously. Every minute one expects to shear >Petex exclaim, as he throws his boots down, "Who dares this pair of boots displace, must meet Bombactes face to face/' for " that's the humour of it." In spite of the barbaric splendour witb which the drama is dressed and mounted, there is no Muscovite last-century flavour about it (the date is 1717-1818). The language is nineteenth century — conversational—and colloquial at that. "What d'you mean by love ?" asks Peter of his son, "pottering round and giving birthday presents ?" In places it savours of "journalese." Effect is sought to be produced by " damnable iteration," the same phrase being repeated ad nauseam. . '.■■■ The main, feature ojE theperfoflpancß [b the successful debut of Mr Robert Taber, a clever young American actor, as J^lexis. The part is a thankless, monotonous one, but the actor, who is singularly free from staginess, quite merged his individuality m the character he presented, and made, not Peter, but Alexis the centre figure of the play. His performance was the more remarkable, since Alexis for the greater part of long scenes it absolutely mute. When the worm turns in the trial scene and the actor has his only chance of showing passion, Mr Taber displayed such fire and vigour that I look forward to seeing him in a role where he can give full play to . his talent. Another young American, Miss Barrymore, was quite unsuited "to the part of Euphrosin&; and Miss Eock man V. showed feeling as the divorced wife; Eudoxia, although the pathos of her embraces with Alexis savoured ; somewhat too much of " the mother and her che-ild were there." . The minor partß were— as they always are at the Lyceum — well filled, and the supers admirable, the variety of their demeanour during the trial scene producing one of the happiest effects that I have yet seen at the Lyceum. Failure as the play is, it still shows a great deal of crude strength, Mr Irving's has been the "ambition that o'er leap3 itself and falls on the other side." The theme requires a Shakspere to handle it. Mr Irving is not a Shakspere, but he is none the less a promising playwright, who has original ideas and who requires only a little more experience and a modern theme to produce a good drama. Whatever he is, he is not mediocre, and if we cannot praise his play, we can, at least, admire his pluck. MR CHARLES CARTWEIOHT. Mr Charles Cartwright is taking a good stock of plays with him to Australia. He will present to the public in your part of the world three works by Mr H. A. Jones, The Middleman, The Rogue's Comedy and The Physician (all played by Mr Willard in the States), one play of Dumas 2>«'^ A Marriage, of Convenience (Mr Grundy's translation of "Un Mariage sous Louis Quinze"), one play of Dumas fits, The Squire of Dames, (Mr Garton's adaptation^ of " L'Ami des Feinmes,") an original play of Mr Garton's,, The Tree of Knowledge (now being played at the St James's), and a drama founded by Mr Arthur Shirley upon Mr Tom Gallon's popular novel " Tatterley." Mr Cartwright will thus play two parts associated with the name of Mr Wyndhnm— Dr Carey in The Physician and Mr Kilroy in The Squire of Dames, and two characters assumed here by Mr Willard, Cyrus Blenkarn in The Middleman and Mr Bailoy Prothero in The Rogue's Comedy. He will also appear in Australia in his original part of the lovesick barrister in Mr Walter Frith's drama, l'hc Advocate, a piece which marked the actor's excursion into management in London at the Duke of York's Theatre two or three years ago.

Timaru Ram Faih.— The entries for the rain fair at Timaru to-morrow numbSr 842, a slight reduction on last year'» total.