Music and Drama.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIV, Issue 4, 26 January 1910, Page 14

Music and Drama.

By

BAYREUTH.

BOOKINGS.

1 (Dates Subject to Alteration.) AUCKLAND—HIS MAJESTY’S. Jan. 24 to Feb. 14 — J. C. Williamson, “The Cheat.” January 24— to Februaiy 19—J. C. Williamson (“Flag Lieutenant” Co. February 21 to March 12—Carter the Magician. “March 14 to 24 — Harry Rickards' Company. March 26 (Easter Sat unlay* to April 16Mar’ow Dramatic Company. lApril 18 to 23- Amy Castles. Apiil 28 to May 14—J. <’. Williamson. May 16 to 29—Allan Hamilton. ■May 30 to June 18 Meynell and Gunn, June 20 to July 6—J. C. Williamson. July 7 to 16—Meynell and Gunn. July 18 to 31 Hugh J. Ward. August 1 to 13 J. C. Williamson. September I to 8 — Auckland Boxing Association September 5 to 24 J. C. Williamson. 26 to October 19 —Allan Hamilton. October 20 to November 4—Fred Graham. THE OPERA HOUSEIn Season—Fuller’s Pictures. ROYAL ALBERT HALL. In Season—Hayward’s Pictures. WELLINGTON OPERA HOUSE. Jan. 17 to 26.—Carter the Magician. Jan. 29 to Feb. 19. J. C. Willi imson. Feb. 26 to March 25.—Allan Hamilton. March 26 to April 18.—J. C. Williamson. April 19 to 27. — Meynell and Gunn. April 28 to May 18.—J. C. Williamson. May 19 to June 3. —Fred. fl. Graham. June 4 to 25.—J. C. Williamson. THREATRE ROYAL. Vaudeville (permanent). TOWN HALL. March 17. 18, 19 Besses o’ th’ Barn Band. February 19 to 26—Fisk Jubilee Singers. Galsworthy's Industrial Play. "W OHN Galsworthy’s “Strife.” which I we are soon to see on this side I'-'l of the world according to the recent announcement by Mr. X C. Williamson, is one of the successes of the past year in America. It hits aroused a tremendous amount of interest in the States, more so in fact than it did when produced first in London. In both England and America the play created a profound impression on the audiences. Jt deals with the problem of strikes—a factor that ought to ensure for it more than passing interest on this Fide of the world. Here is an account of the plav. published bv the “New York Post”: — ‘‘As must be pretty generally known by this time, the original location of Mr. Galsworthy’s play was in England, and it is doubtful whether much has been gained—if something has not been lost—l»y the transference of the scene to southeastern Ohio. The original personalities do not always harmonise with the new environment to which they have been transplanted, This possibly is a somewhat fanciful objection. At all events it is not a matter of grave moment. The action is supposed to be confined to a period of six hours. When the curtain rises a strike of the hands of the Ohio River Tin Plate Mills has been going on for weeks and months, until the workers and their families have been reduced almost to the last extremity. When the curtain rises the president and directors of the company are holding a meeting in the manager’s house to discuss the crisis. In the progress of a singularly life-like and voraciously written scene, the exact situation is unfolded. Tt is evident that the whole energy of the strike is centred in old John Anthony, the founder and president of the company, on the one hand, ami David Roberts, the socialistic and fanatical leader of the men. on the Cd her. The former offers adamantine resistance to the feeble protests of his weaker kneed associates. He has had four labour battles on his hands, he says, and has won them.'all. The only true policy, he argues, is to settle your terms and stick to them. Every concession will l»e but the prelude to more extravagant 'demands. If dividends la* growing less now, they will vanish altogether when expense* are greater than receipts. To the remonstrance* of his son—who sympathises with the mon—the timid expostulations of his co-directors, the prayer* of his daughter, the warnings

of his secretary, tlie representations of the union delegates, he turns a deaf ear. When a committee of the working men is introduced, with the fiery Roberts at their head, lie opposes to demands and threats the same rigid front of inexorable denial. Even when warned of the impending desertion of him by his board, he maintains an unmoved attitude of solitary defiance. The Horrors of the Strike. “Then the scene shifts to Roberts’ cottage, wherein are assembled a number of starving women, who lament the obstinacy of Roberts in fighting a losing battle, in which the women and the children are the greatest sufferers. It is intimated that the men themselves would yield if it were not for the inspiring zeal of Roberts, who pledges them to certain victory in return for endurance. Mrs. Roberts herself is plainly dying of want and heart disease, but she is loyal to her husband and refuses absolutely to profit

by the aid which Enid Underwood, the compassionate daughter of John Anthony, would be only too glad to supply. The charitable instincts of Enid, indeed, only expose her to the savage scorn of Roberts, who tells her' that he would not raise a finger to save her father from lingering death, and the denunciation of Madge Thomas, a fierce daughter of the people, who, in the depths of her despair, declares to her lover that she will sell herself rather than see her old mother want food longer. Mr. Galsworthy paints the squalid horrors of strike famines with an unhesitating brush. A Realistic Scene. “Another change of scene shows a meeting of the mill hands outside the mills, where various speakers harangue the strikers. It proved last evening to l>o a triumph of modern stage management. The union delegate—with visions •f defeat, and the engagement of ‘scab

labour’ before his eyes —does his best, in the face of growing hostility, to induce the men to yield, and an old Welsh workman and exhorter, Henry Thomas, implores them for the sake of their wives and babies to return to work, arguing that this is the plain course prescribed by duty and nature. The conflicting elements in the crowd are the cause of constantly increasing turbulences; but the majority are plainly wavering, when Rolarts, haggard but dauntless, takes the platform, and, in a passionate address, thrilling with scorn and invective, kindles them to yet stronger rebellion. At the moment of his triumph, just after he has asserted that life itself would be a small priee to pay for victory, Madge Thomas comes to him with the news that his wife is dead, an episode that brings the seene to a powerful climax. Stunned, but still unsubdued, Roberts staggers from the platform to regain the home that is now more desolate than ever, and the meeting resolves itself into a semiriot upon which the curtain falls. A Fight to a Finish. “In the concluding scene the directors are again assembled in the manager’s house. All except old John Anthony are wavering. He is staunch as ever, though he is conscious of impending defeat. The news of the death of Roberts’ wife is the chief cause of his overthrow. The

more susceptible directors dread the effect of it on public opinion, and shudder at the thought of possible action on the part of a coroner’s jury or the press. They propose a resolution that the union delegates be empowered to make a settlement with the men, but before it can be put to the vote old Anthony, in a sjieech of fine dramatic force, once more defines his position, declaring that the whole future of the company is at stake, that peace obtained now by concession must lead inevitably to future ruin, whereas firmnness would ensure speedy victory and permanent prosperity, and that the question involved is one not of sympathy, but vital business principle. “When the vote is recorded against him he resigns his position on the board, and then sinks into pathetic relapse. Presently the men’s committee are admitted to deliver their final decision. Hearing what has happened, Roberta—who has entered late, having been detained by his

wife's death—is at first disposed to exult over his fallen foe, but is quieted by the union delegates. By degrees the stage in cleared, the haggard Roberts, and the stricken Anthony retiring by opposite doors. Finally only the secretary of the board and the union delegate remain. Slowly the former realises that the compromise reached is the one which both sides had rejected before the fight, and that all the loss and suffering has been in vain. ‘That is where the fun comes in,’ says the delegate, and the curtain falls.” Maeterlinck's Wonderful Play— The Fairy Tale of a Philoso« pker. When Maurice Maeterlinck’s “Tita Blue Bird"’ was published in English in the spring its wonderful twilight beauty was at onee recognised, but the more the reader realised the beauty the more impossible did it seetn that so subtle and intangible a thing could resist the materialism of the stage. It will be recalled that the dramatic production of the -piece at the Haymarket Theatre, London, by Mr. Herbert Trench, was called out here as “The .most remarkable dramatic and pictorial success of the present generation.” The play, which Mr. Alexander Teixeira de Mattos has translated with strik-

ing felicity, tells of the search made by, two children—Tyltyl and Mytyl—for the Blue Bird, the symbol of Happiness. They are accompanied by a dog and a cat, and the spirits of Bread, Sugar, and Light, to all of whom the fairies have given the gift of speech. They visit their dead grandmother and grandfather in the band of Memory. Tliey are attacked by the spirits of the trees . in the Forest. They meet Time and scores of unborn children in the Kingdom of the Future. They find many blue birds in the Palace of Night. But they all die in their hands. In every scene there is delight fail fantasy, in every episode some aspect of Maeterlinckian philosophy. But the play is always dramatic, always moving. The cat is Mr. Kipling’s “cat that walks by himself.” untamed, Intriguing, treacherous. The dog is man's faitlsful

lave, and the characters are individualised with coifsuinmate skill. It would be impossible tv enumerate all the delightful nionienjts of the play, but the scene in the Land of Memory perhaps moved one the ih-ost. The idea that the dead sleep bn until they are awakened by being thought of by the living is indeed exquisite. Remarkable Dressing. The designing of the dresses of the characters was closely in keeping with Maeterlinck’s instructions. Light was clad in a dress of pale gold, shot with silver, radiating a glowing radiance from her figure. Time wore his. scythe and hour-glass, and appeared as a bearded man in a dark cloak. Night appeared in a black, star-covered robe, the folds of which gave reddishbrown shadows, and Fire was dressed in scarlet, his cloak lined witli gold, and an aigrette of iridescent flames. Maeterlinck’s idea of Bread and Sugar is amusing. The former wore a ricli pasha’s dress, with an ample crimson s. .< or velvet gown. He had an enormous stomach, red, puffed-out cheeks, and a round head crowned with a turban. Sugar wore a silk gown, half white, half blue, to suggest the paper wrapping of a sugar loaf. And Water? Who could imagine that a dramatist could make water a speaking part? Yet Maeterlinck has. Few stage managers have had a more difficult task than to follow Maeterlinck’s stage instructions, for he writes, according to Mme. Maeterlinck, with an utter disregard for stage conventions. The secret of how the transformations have been done have not been disclosed, but they are remarkable none the less. In Act I. the children turn a magic diamond, and, according to Maeterlinck’s instructions, "the souls of the quartern loaves in the form of little men'in crustcoloured tights, flurried and all powdered with flour, scramble out of the bread-pan and frisk round the table, where they are eaught up by Fire, who, springing from the hearth in yellow and vermilion tights, writhes with laughter as he chases the loaves.” water, too, "the tap begins to sing in a very high voiee, and turning into a luminous fountain, floods the sink with sheets of pearls and emeralds, through ■which darts the soul of Water, like a young girl?- streaming, dishevelled, -and tearful, wllbj immediately begins to fight wir,n Fire.”,-. | I - After “thisyif seems a mere trifle’ to arrange for" the appearance of Milk, who rises from a broken milk-jug “a tall bashful figure, who seems to be afraid of everything.’’ y A - , ‘ All through the play wonderful things are made to happen in the search for the Blue Bird, which is the secret of happiness. A Chance Idea. “As for ’The Blue Bird,’” said Madame Maeterlinck to an interviewer at the time of the production, “the idea of it came to Maeterlinck quite, by chance. ‘I have an idea,’ he said one day, ‘of. something which will be amusing for,me to write.’ So he wrote it solely for his own amusement. The original manuscript contains many more beautiful scenes, but the play as he wrote it would be too long for production. It is a play for children —for children of all ages. To the young ones it is simply a beautiful fairy tale of the search after the Blue Bird; to the elder children it is the story of life, the search after happiness, for the Blue Bird is Happiness. It is the fairy tale of a philosopher.” London is the first capital of Western Europe to produce this remarkable play. L T ntil recently it had only been seen in Moscow and St. Petersburg, but fueh is its charm that now fifty-two companies are playing it in Russia. On its success in London depends its success in other European capitals and in America. M. Maeterlinck came to London in time to witness the rehearsals, and during his visit when the fog fell over London he expressed his wonderment at the .beauties of the city shrouded in shadows and gloom. For a poet whose scenes are set in mists and shadows London must hold strong attractions, and Maeterlinck prefers London in fog to London in sunshine; The Importance of Being Earnest. Oscar Wilde's “trivial comedy for serious people.” as he called it—“ The Importance of Being Earnest,” has been revived with some success at home by Mr. George Alexander at the St. Janies’ Theatre, London. It is remarkable how public opinion, or rather public prejudice

has changed in England during the last few years in regard to a man whose name was once forbidden in the circle of all respectable families. It is the recognition that comes to a nun’s genius aft&T &e' is dead. Whatever Wilde’s private life 'was, or however much he was driven to despair 1 by stupid soiil stifling conventions and mediocrity, he was a brilliant'dramatist. Mirny of his droll epigrammatic utterances are cherished keenly to-day by his admirers, not the least heard of, which “The man who calls a spade a spade is only fit to use one.” His wit is diamond pointed. It plays like summer lightning upon the scene, illwininiating everything and everybody. “Wilde obviously caught the trick from Sir. W. S. Gilbert, although he brought to it no small measure of his own peculiar talent,” re-marks the London “Daily Telegraph,” with characteristic English complacency. It iis wonderful how patriotic and ridiculous the truly English person is when he comes to discuss the merits of genius. That Oscar Wilde, brilliant daring Irishman that he wais. would ever be guilty of imitating an Englishman and a rigid Conservative gentleman at that, is incred-

ible. The despair of the Irish is the average Britisher’s stupidity and slow thinking. One has only to read Mr. Shaw's preface to “-John Bull’s other Inland” to realise that Sir Wm. Gilbert has his own inimitable and delightful vein of satire it is true, but he is .much too British in wit and sentiment to ever inspire 'a. Celtic genius to imitation. The interest being taken in the Wilde reviva! has led to a complete edition of his works being published, together with several biographies. “ The House Opposite.” A somewhat melodramatic play, entitled "The House Opposite,” by Mr. Percival Landon, was produced at the Queen’s Theatre. London, recently. It has the elements leading up to a powerful situation. . Based on the .wellknown story of Couvoisier, in which. .a valet was seen from the house opposite killing his master, Mr. Landon's plot reveals how Richard Cardyne, in the boudoir of the Hon. Mrs. Rivers., was the horrified spectator of a similar crime. Richard Cardyne was the lover of Mrs. Rivers, the-wife of the Right Hon. Harry Rivers, ex-Home Secretary, and it was from the windows of her room that he saw old Mr. Chancellor done to death by a man. .But how can he make use.of the knowledge thus fortuitously acquired? Supposing that an innocent person —say, the house keeper, Anne Carey—is wrongfully accused of the murder, how can he tell the truth, when every word he reveals will fatally compromise - the character of Mrs. Rivers? This is the dilemma on which the play turns. A murder has been committed; . an innocent person ia

charged with the offence; there is one ■witness who k-nows that the charge is false, but his mouth is sealed, because the lady from whose house he saw the commission of the erime lays imperative commands on his honour and his loyalty not to reveal the dreadful and compromising secret of their relations. The wife of an ex-Home Secretary, with a reputation to preserve, cannot posibly allow her lover, Richard Cardyne, to give away the fact of their close intimacy. Drawing-room melodrama, indeed! And very good melodrama, too. based, in this instance, on an actual historic fact, and replete with consequences of tragic import to the social butterflies whose wrongdoing involves them in the imbroglio. Who is to Confess? What is to be done? Apparently very little, although there is a good deal of backward and forward movement, and at one time it looks as if a maid’s good name was to Im* sacrificed. Mrs. Rivers is in an agony of fear and apprehension; her lover is in the throes of remorse, and a fierce conflict of duties. Of course, one or other of them

ought to confess, and thus secure the ends of justice. But who is to make the needful .confession? No one knows better- than Cardyne that if he holds his tongue, he is putting the assured position of a , leader of society above the most primitive demands of ethical responsibility. In the long run, the woman herself confesses, confesses in an indirect fashion, by mentioning an analogous case to a listless husband, who is apparently too deeply engrossed in his newspaper to listen to the meaning of her words. She never knows whether he really understands the significance of her speech. After all, however, the confession itself is unnecessary. Mr. Rivers himself reveals the fact that th.e real murderer has confessed the crime, and that, therefore, the innocent will be allowed- to go free. But Mrs. Rivers has had a lesson which she is not likely to forget during the rest of her life, ami Richard Cardyne, too, has discovered how the pursuit of light loves may lead him into a terrible impasse, in which the conventional and the real sense of the word “honour” are tossed to and fro. Thus, viewing from the theatrical standpoint, the play contains a very strong situation, worked out in a series of scenes which end up in a very obvious moral. The Vampire Dance. Another dance of sensation and realism has been added to London's existing examples of this particular form ot artistic expression. At the Hippodrome recently a Vampire Dance, performed by Miss Alice Eis ami Mr. Bert French, who have previously met with a good reception in New York. Inspiration for

the dance has been found in Burna Jones' picture of "The Vampire,” and the thought that was the basis of the picture affords ideas that suggest the movements of the dancers. The curtain was rung up to show a heavily-draped stage in which stood a man bending over a red rose in his hand. Slowly a brilliant red light broke in the centre of the stage, to make discernible the fecn *f » woman lying in a graceful attitude, from which she gradually raised herself to step, with a scarlet gauzy scarf in he» hand, towards her victim. Nearer and nearer the man is drawn, until he forgets everything, and is lured into the hands of the Vampire, who, after biting him in the throat, leaves him to his death. At the Tivoli Musical Hall the same night Miss Mildred Deverez also presented the weird “Vampire Dance,” assisted by Mr. Tom Terriss, for which Mr Frank Tours has written the music. On the rise of the curtain a tall form is displayed on a dim lit stage, which by degrees asserts itself as that of a woman wrapt mysteriously in a transparent scarlet drapery, over a black jewelled robe. In the distance a voice is heard singing “A fool there was. and ho mad* bis prayer,” ami as the melody continues the figure, in lithe, sinuous movements, passes to the centre of the stage and dances. Her partner shortly appear? in the form of a painter, engrossed in his work, and the climax is the same as in the other version. A Splendid Programme. A splendid programme: Overture. “Dir Meistersinger” (Wagner): symphonic poem, "Til! Eulenspiegel” (Strauss); Brandenburg Concerto for string orchestra (Bach); Variations on an Original Theme (Elgar); Symphony No. 5, in Q minor (Beethoven). The above programme was played at a recent concert of the London Symphony Orchestra at Covent Garden Theatre. Dr. Richter, who conducted, can doubtless be credited with the selection of pieces—a selection as eclectic as it Was interesting and enjoyable. Bach as the master of absolute music and Richard Strauss, the daring modernist whose tone-poems have excited, the ire of reactionary critics, are separated by a wide .gulf; between them is Wagner, represented by one of the finest! creations of his genius. English orchestral music was worthily represented by Elgar’s Variations, and Beethoven, in one of h-is magnificent masterpieces, set the seal upon a programme which reflected credit upon all who look part in its superb interpretation.'- How long, O good people, how- long, before we shall have such a programme in New Zealand? " Dream of Gerantins in Adelaide. Says the London “Musical Tinies”: — From time to time the enterprise manifested by musical societies in the colonies calls for hearty recognition, and in this connection it is gratifying to record th* spirit and enthusiasm displayed by th* Bach Society of Adelaide in the production of Elgar’s "Dream of Gerontius” ot> October (>. The interest taken in th* work and its performance was so great that the Town Hall was packed to overflowing. and hundreds were refused admission. Immense pains had been taken with the production, the choir having been specially, selected ami no less thart 1550 rehearsals in all of the various departments having been held. The result was that the ehoir was admitted to be the finest ever heard in Adelaide, while th* services of an exceptionally good orchestra were secured. The choral portion* revealed excellent attack, volume of tone, and enunciation, and warm praise may also be accorded to the orchestral work. The solo parts were ably interpreted by Miss Grace Spafford, Mr. Wanborough Fisher and Mr. Fred Hyett. The performance, as a whole, may be said to have been worthy of tliq work, and hearty congratulations should be offered to tho conductor. Dr. E. Harold Davies, for th* highly artistic- interpretation by tho forces under his control. The announcement that the oratorio was to be repeated on the following Saturday afternoon indicated the faith that the promoter* had in the attractive power of the work, and the important advantage of a second hearing was thus afforded to many of th< audience. Vocal Instruction n« an Art. The “Musical Courier” is responsible for the admirable and illuminating extract given below. “You have temperament.’* said Signor, the singing teacher, to tho female icicle who was having her voice tried.

She entered the class! “You display artistic reserve,** Signor •aid to the bursting basso who rattled the roof with his bawling. He entered the class! “You have rare vocal equipment,” Signor said to the attenuated alto, who sang with hep evebrews and shoulders. She entered the class! “You sing with unusual intelligence.’’ •aid Signor to the tiny tenor, who did not understand a word of the texts he uttered. He entered the class! “You have wide range,” Signor said to the capacious contralto, who sang three tones and talked the rest. She entered the class! “Your top tones have tenor quality,” •aid Signor to the burly baritone, who almost dliocke when he ventured above middle D. He entered the class! “You are a born dramatic soprano,” •aid Signor to the shrinking young thing who bleated “Violets” in tremulously, piping tonelets. She entered the class! “Your eyes look beautiful when yon •ing ‘For All Eternity,’” said Signor to the poor, plain person who had neither voice, diction, intelligence, nor musical feeling. She entered the class! “I must place you inopera,” said Signor to the bow-legged, cross-eyed clerk who sold ribbon on weekdays and sang in the choir on Sundays. He entered the class! “You would make an ideal Mimi or Madam Butterfly,” said Signor to the middle-aged lady with the 58 bust. She entered the class! . . . In fact. Signor’s class is full to overOther vocal teachers are complaining this season. * The Cheat ” —A Drama with MeloJ dramatic Interludes. “The Cheat,” described as “a stirring spectacular Anglo-Afghanistan military drama,” was tlve chosen piece by which the J. C. Williamson New’ Dramatic Company inaugurated their three weeks’ season at His Majesty's. Auckland. The play lives up to the description. It is popular drama with melodramatic interludes, lake all representative military dramas, it compresses into its four acts a liberal Vein of excitement and sensation. The story is woven round a somewhat conventional set of characters, in which Stephen Blanchard, a world-travelled millionaire, and Isra Mahomet Khan, chief ©f the “Tongiris,” stand out as studies of original and more human interest. Captain James Blanchard, the son of a distinguished General, is compelled to resign his commission on the eve of trouble amongst the hill tribes of Afghanistan. He is falsely accused by hia cousin, Captain Rivers, of cheating at Cards. His fiancee, Ethel Hardy, who previously rejected a proposal of marriage from Rivera, declines to desert her lover. She and Joan Fleming, a girl whom Captain Blanchard's accuser has deceived, go to the front as nurses. Stephen Blanchard, uncle of the cousins, returns from abroad to find that Joan, whom he has loved for years, has fled, leaving only for his eyes a written confession of her unhappiness. Blanchard resolves to follow her and bring her , unknown deceiver bo justice. James enlists as private in the Gordons, and distinguishes himself by conspicuous bravery at the front. In the meantime. Rivers ds in charge of a small garrison at a native port at Ghizeh. By his cruelty and injustice he has brought upon him the •threat of assassination by the rebellious hill tribesmen, under the leadership of Isra Mahomet Khan, a courageous and chivalrous chief. Rivers’ determination to send Abdul Hamid (the chief’s brother) south under arrest, despite the urgent advice of his brother officers, excites

the hill tribesmen to rebellion. Vengeance is vowed. A eamp is raided in the pass, and the two nurses, Ethel and Joan, are borne away to the stronghold of the enemy among the hills. Stephen Blanchard, in liis search for the missing Joan, had penterated the pass a month before, whilst the war is in progress, and was captured by the hill tribesmen. Enraged by Rivers’ injustice, the natives wreak their ferocious vengeance on the helpless Blanchard by blinding and torturing him with fire until he is almost driven mad. In this state he is found by the captured nurses. Maimed and crippled as lie is, he learns from Joan's lips lae story of her desertion and the treachery of Rivers, both to her and his innocent cousin Janies. Isra Mahomet Khan dispatches Blanchard to the fort with a message that unless Rivers gives himself up to the tribe by dawn of the morning following, the women will lie tortured as Blanchard was and subject to the brutality of the tribesmen. In the third act a powerful scene is reached —the climax of the whole play, in fact—when Blanchard, in full cognisance of Rivers' despicable conduct, conies in to deliver the hill tribesmen’s message. Rivers is brought to confession after a thrilling scene. He is horrified by the demands of the enemy, and in agony of fear blurts out the whole story of his miserable conduct and shoots himself in full view of the audience. The opening of the fourth act sees the situation intense with the peril of the women and the desperation of the garrison. The play, however, after a series of thrilling scenes, comes to a highly melodramatic close which must be left for future audiences to experience. As a play “The Cheat” derives its action and force from apparently the inexhaustible springs of melodrama. The merit of such a production lies in the scope and virility of its conception and the interpretation it receives, at the hands of the company. The author’s conception lives more in the conventional aspects of the stage than downright originality. Much of the dialogue is commonplace, whilst occasionally leading characters are made to appear or given a clear stage with a looseness of construction that is apt to defeat the plausibility of the story. Much of its mediocrity is relieved by the splendid acting of Mr Harold Plimmer (Stephen), Mr Cyril Mackay (Rivers), Mr Boyd Irwin (Isra Mahomet Khan), and Miss Ethel Warwick (Ethel). The latter is pretty and graceful, and acts up to the part of the faithful girl lover and heroine the public dearly love to see. Mr George Titheradge as General Sir Christopher Blanchard (the father of James) invests the character with his accustomed penetration and skill. He makes the most of a strong scene between father and son, when the latter tells him he has resigned his command, but unfortunately the author gives the actor few 7 chances for his art. The impersonations of Mr Eardley Turner (Hr. Vorland) and Colonel Paget (Mr A. E. Greenaway) were also well rendered. The piece was received with evident delight. and applause by the audience, its more exciting and melodramatic climaxes ■taking a rigorous hold of those emotions of the typical audience that delights in popular drama. The stagipg and effects, needless to add, were capitally arranged. Stray Notes. The London Stage Society recently produced to a packed audience the censored play of Mr. Bernard Shaw entitled, “The Showing Up of Blanco Posnet.” The play, which was fully 7 outlined in these columns some time ago, is described by the author as “A crude sermon in melodrama.” It is one of the anomalies of the censorship at Home that any banned play can be produced, provided the audience support it by subscriptions instead of through the box office. There has been an interesting contro-

versy in the Melbourne “Argus” with regard to Mr. Oscar Asche’s representation of Shylock in the "Merchant of Venice” at the Theatre Royal, Melbourne. The disculfeion assumed a rather piquant aspect when Mr. Aselie replied in straight-out terms to his critics, whose principal objection was that Mr. Asche as Shylock did not wear the yellow badge compulsory to be worn by Jews in those days. Mr. Asche pointed out that he did wear the yellow, in the form of a turban around the head, customary 7 for the Eastern Jews to wear. Mr. Walter Bentley also took part in the controversy after Mr. Asche had pointed out that he did wear the yellow. The “Argus” published a leading article referring to the fact that the publie must take a keen interest in the Asche-Brayton Shakespearean productions when numerous letters are sent to the Press commenting upon the details of the productions. Messrs. J. and N. Tait, who are directing the forthcoming Australasian tour of the Besses o’ the Barn Band, now announce that the band’s first appearance in Christchurch, New Zealand, has been unavoidably postponed from Ist to Sth February. The band has been delayed en route from South Africa by the fact that the Suevic was forced to go onto Durban for coal, owing to the shortage in the Commonwealth. The “Besses” will leave Melbourne for New Zealand on 2nd February. Their further itinerary through the Dominion of New Zealand will not, however, be altered by this unfortunate disturbance in their travelling engagements. After leaving Christchurch they go to Invercargill and Dunedin, and then proceed to Wellington and Auckland. In the revival of “The Corsican Brothers” at the Sydney Theatre Royal, the big scene is the fight. When Fabien dei Franchi and Chateau Renaud meet in the last act, the points of broken swords are used in the fashion of Corsica. The duel thus becomes a fight with knives. We are promised another sensation ot the same kind when Mr. Oscar Asche produces “Count Hannibal.” The Count fights with a sword in one h'and and a dagger in the other. In November Signor Giovanni Grasso, the Sicilian actor, did more than was set down for him while appearing in Florence. The latterday Salvini was playing one of his fiercest parts, in which he has to stab his enemy with a dagger. In the heat of his passion, Grasso let the weapon slip out of his hand. The dagger alighted in th* pit on a man’s head, cutting it slightly. An indignant member of the audience flung the knife back to the stage, where it was dexterously caught by Grasso. Raising it aloft in his hand, and, as though it were accursed, Grasso smashed it in two, and then stamped upon it. Then, with a swift bound, Grasso was in the pit beside the injured man. The next minute he. had climbed back to the boards with the victim in his arms. After settling the injured man in a chair, Grasso threw himself on his knees and began a long entreaty for forgiveness. This was freely granted by the muchembarrassed playgoer, who on his side ■begged to be allowed to return to his seat. But this was not to be until Grasso, weeping copiously, had bestowed no fewer than -10 resounding kisses on the man s blushing cheeks. The action was greeted with loud cheers, and after Grasso had gracefully bowed his thanks the play wa» resumed. A galaxy of star melodists will arrive in Australia in a few months’ time. Calve, Dolores and Carreno are due in April. Melba, now busy settling her son on a fine farm at Lilydale, and entertaining Gov. Carmichael thereon, says she surely will return from foreign parts with a grand opera company within eighteen months. Charles “Spats” Harris will bring his Sheffield

choir, known as the “Yorkshire Dumplings” along next year. Miss Viola Tree, daughter of the famous Sir Herbert, made her debut as a vocalist last month in the Queen's Hall (London) at the third concert of the new Symphony Orchestra. Her rendering of Charpentier’s “Dupuie le Jour” was characterised by brilliant vocalisation and fine charm. All success to one w!ho, frankly admitting her inability to take a leading position in the world of drama, courageously challenges the verdict of the musical public. Critics tell us that in Miss Tree grand opera will find a valuable recruit. Puccini’s “Madame Butterfly,” which the J. C. Williamson Grand Opera Company will produce here (in English) next Easter, is to be performed for the first time in Dresden next September.

“ Say, darling, say, when I’m far away, Sometimes you may think of me, dear; Bright sunny days will soon fade away, Remember what I say, and be true, d a r.”