Music and Drama.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIX, Issue 22, 28 May 1913, Page 13

Music and Drama.

By

BAYREUTH.

BOOKINGS. (Dates subject to alteration.) H.M. THEATRE, AUCKLAND. June 9 to June 25—Geo. Marlow, Ltd. June 20 to July 5—J. C. Williamson, Ltd. July 7 to 19-—Allen Doone. August 4to 10—J. C. Williamson, Ltd. August 28 to September 27—Branscombe Co. October Ito 11—J. C. Williamson, Ltd, AUCKLAND PICTURE SHOWS. Globe Theatre, Queen Street —Continuous. Fascination of “ Crook ” Plays. THE “crook” plays seem to fascinate modern audiences. -The greatest successes this season of the American stage — “Within the Law” (now being played with equal success in Australia), “The Conspiracy, and "The Argyle Case” — borrow their action from the under-world. ‘ The Whip,” a hugely successful and sensational melodrama, with which New Zealand audiences are quite familiar, must also Ire placed in the same category. The fact remains, says a writer in “Current Opinion,” that at least four of the nine great hits of the season skilfully appeal to the same instinct in grown-ups that turns the pennies and the hearts of little boys to Nick Carter and Deadwood Dick. If "Within the Law” is the best “crook” play of the season, “The Argyle Case ’ is the best portraiture of the modern detective. Detective Burns, who appears on the programme ae the collaborator of Harriet Ford and Harvey O’Higgina, the authors, vouched in a curtain speech for the verisimilitude of the play during its opening run in New York. The art of securing impressions of finger-tips is elucidated, and the dictograph, the terror of conspiring labour leaders and unrighteous legislators, plays an integral part in the development of 'the plot, with considerable ingenuity and a fair amount of plausibility. The story revolves about the person of an extraordinarily astute detective who is called upon, to solve the mystery of the murder of a rich merchant who ha<s been found dead in his library. Public suspicion, fostered by the yellow newspapers, has fallen upon the disinherited son of the choleric old gentleman, Bruce Argyle, and upon Mary Masuret, his adopted daughter, the chief beneficiary under his will. Elucidating a Mystery. In the first act Never-Sleep Kayton, the famous detective, scours the house for a trace of the murderers. He discovers feminine finger prints on the table overturned by the dead man as he fell under the blo\v of the assassin. He also discovers that Bruee was with his father shortly before the murder. Mary likewise offers ground for suspicion by her strange behaviour on the night of the murder. There also seems to have been a mysterious telephone call near midnight. Incidentally Kayton finds a perfectly new 100-dollar bill in an envelope on the dead merchant’s desk which seems to have escaped the previous investigation of the police. James T. Hurley, a lawyer and promoter, officiously offers his assistance. “I am so glad,” he remarks, “that you have come in on the case. I don't doubt you’ll clear it up for us.” Hurley's behaviour arouses Kayton's suspicion, and he at once details a man to shadow his every movement. He then turns his attention to Bruee and Mary separately. It is evident that eaeh suspects and tries to shield the other. Kayton, as if by accident, leave.? them alone for a moment to exchange confidences. He closes the door, then opens it quickly, his hand only being seen by the audience. Mary: Bruce, I want to speak to you. Bruee (intensely): What is it, Mary ? Mary (breathless with fear): I tffid the detective. Bruce: What? Mary: Oh, Bruce! Can't you prove that you didn't come back here that night? Bruce: Mary, I don't know what you mean —— Mary: I was awake. I heard your father go to the door. Oh, I meant never to tell anyone; but he made me. I don't know how. Can't you prove that it ■wasn’t you 1

Brute (taking hold of her alines t roughly) : Mary! What are you saying? That you heard father let me in? Mary: Oh, Bruce, I thought I heard your voice. I thought I heard you quarrelling. Bruce: What have you been thinking? That X came back here and quarrelled ■with my father and—and How could you think such a thing? Mary: Oh. I didn’t think it was on purpose, Bruce. Indeed I didn’t. Bruee: What did you think? Mary: He was always so—so violent when he got angry at you. I thought he did something, made an attack on you, and you had to defend yourself. Of course, I knew it was an accident. Bruce —don't look like that! —Bruce! (He is looking at her with such intensity of indignation and sense of wrong that she breaks off, breathless.) • Bruce: Have you believed all this time that I killed my father? Mary: I tell you, Bruee, I thought it was an accident. 1 didn’t blame you, Bruee: An accident! Why, if such a thing had happened, wouldn’t I hare called yon—roused the house—got help? How could you think of such a thing? Mary—do you think so now? Mary: No. No. You couldn’t have. Bruce: You do —you do! (Enters Kayton. shutting door.) Just in time, Mr. Kayton. We've got hold of something at last to give out. She heard me come back. That ought to satisfy the public. That ought to clear her! I did not come back —but give it out. I can stand it. Give it—- — He leaves the room.) Mary (rushes to the door, calling): Bruee! Bruee! (To Kayton): Help us! Do help us! Don't say he came back here. 1 was wrong, I'm sure I was. He says he didn't come. Please don't tell anyone! What lUrve I done? What have I done? The detective, convinced of the innocence of both, pledges himself to discover the real culprit. He cleverly establishes a connection between Mary and one Nellie Marsh, implicated with a gang of counterfeiters, led by the notorious Frederick Kreisler. Mary believes her mother to be dead, but Kayton surmises that she is the daughter of Nellie Marsh, and that both Hurley and the dead millionaire are in some manner mixed up with the counterfeiters. He places a decoy advertisement in the newspapers, in connection with an illegal legacy left by Argyle to “N.M.” His prey promptly walks into his trap. A veiled lady appears, asserting that she is Nellie Marsh, the lost heiress. “Do you’ think,” he asks her, "that your signature might be found among Mr. Argyle's papers?” Into the Trap. Mrs. Martin: Why, yes, my endorsement of cheques, if he kept them. Kayton: Well, then, if you’ll leave your signature with me, I'll turn it over io the lawyers. Mrs. Martin: Thank you. (She removes her glove while Kayton, without speaking, places paper on a table for her, and dips a pen into the deep ink-well, then he abstractedly places the pen in her fingers. She takes it, then, realising that it is wet and has inked her hand, she drops it with a little exclamation of dismay, looking at her hand.) Kayton (quickly): Oh, I beg your pardon! Don’t get it on your glove. Let me ——. (He picks up blotter and carefully dries her hand.) I always forget about that ink-well. Try this pen. (Giving her another. He tosses the blotter into the waste basket. She dips pen gingerly and writes her name.) Thank you, that'll be all. Mrs. Martin (about to go): You have my address. (Kayton picks up Mrs Martin's card and reads it.) I’ll hear from you. Kayton: Yes. Just a moment, Mrs. Martin. (Mrs. Martin stops.) I’m in a very peculiar position, and it has just occurred to mo here you might help me. Mrs. Martin: I! . Kayton: I suppose you’ve followed the newspaper reports of Mr. Argyle's death and our investigation? Mrs. Martin: Oh, closely. Kayton: Then you have seen that suspicion has been directed against Ids adopted daughter?

Mre. Martin: Yes. It seemed to me very cruel. Kayton: Yes, and it seems to me very unjustified. It has become necessary that Miss Masuret should be protected from the annoyance of reporters and photographers. She's on the point of breaking down. (Mrs. Martin exclaims in sympathy.) And you know even an innocent woman will do things to implicate herself if she’s tried beyond the limit of her strength. Mrs. Martin (sitting in chair tensely) s Yes, yes, of course! Kayton: But she is so watched it is impossible for us to get her away anywhere without its being known. It is necessary for our purposes to make the. real criminal confident that we are off the trail. To be frank with you, we suspect a former member of the household. Mrs. Martin: Indeed! Kayton (after a. pause): We want Miss Masuret to disappear, and to disappear so completely that not even a member of her own household will suspect that we have anything to do with it. Any flight by train would be instantly found out. It must be secret and sensational. Her closest friends must be in a state of the greatest alarm. Do you follow me? Mi®. Martin: Yes, yes, but—• —■ Kayton: Well, then, you must see yourself, Mrs. Martin, that you are in just the right position to help us. Your relations witii the family are absolutely unknown. I am sure I could trust to your discretion. No one connected with her would ever connect her with you, and

you can receive her without explanation to anyone as a total stranger into one of your furnished rooms. The. Most Exciting Act. Mrs. Marsh finally consents to Kayton's plan. When she leaves the room a comparison of her finger-prints with those previously taken, reveals that they are identical. Kayton now summons Mary and tells her that she must totally disappear from view for a few days in order to confirm the -suspicion against her and to put the real criminals off their guard. He also tells her that the woman who calls herself Mrs. Martin, while possibly’ innocent herself, knows the secret of’Mr. Argyle’s murder. "She keeps a furnished lodging-house. There are reasons why she has consented to take you as a lodger, secretly. We must gain access to this house without arousing suspicion. I can visit you there myself, my men can come. You’ll have nothing to fear. You'll be protected every moment. 1 will send you one of these little dictographs.” A dictograph, he explains, is like a telephone, only much more sensitive. "Conceal it in your room. Drop the wire out of your window and my’ men will connect with it. I would never,” he goes on to say, “let you do this unless 1 were absolutely sure ■that you will bo safe and that T can clear you later.” Mary consents. Mrs. Martin is called into the room. Thins mother and daughter meet. The daughter, fortunately for herself, is unaware of the kinship. The third act is the most exciting of all. The stage is divided into two sections. To the loft is the counterfeiter's den where most of the action takes place. To the right is a room rented by Kayton, occupied by members of his detective agency. They are there for the purpoeo of taking notes from the dictographs connecting with KreWer’s and with

Mary’s rooms. Kayton is with Mary in her room downstairs. Old Kreisler is bleaching notes. Cage, a young crook, upbraids him for the delay incurred by indulging in laborious photographic processes. “lliat is the way with you Americans,” Kreisler disgustedly exclaims. "No patience, no science, no artistry, half-baked, get-rieh-quiek!’’ Every word he utters is, of course, taken by Kayton’s stenographers listening through the wire. The Counterfeiters. Kreisler: Be patient. Gage, lie patient; you shall, and we shall be paying for counterfeit with counterfeit. Counterfeit stock certificates for counterfeit gold certificates. There is nothing in the treasury to back our gold certificates, and there is nothing in the companies to back their stock certificates, and the Government protects them and prosecutes us. (.Sits and puts glove on left hand.) Gage: Doctor, that's the difference between promotin’ and counterfeitin'! Bob (one of Kayton’s men in the attic) : Hold on, boys, my wire's working. It's Kay ton's voice, lie's telling the girl not to worry. (Enter Mrs. Martin. Kreisler smiles at her. Kreisler, glove on hand, goes hurriedly to work. Adds liquid from small bottle and stirs liquid. Takes up one-dollar bills. Sigh from Mrs. Martin.) Kreisler: My dear heart, you are very tired. (Continuing his work.) Tired, my dear? (Puis bill behind pan. takes up trick bill, exposes printed side, places it in pan, sponges it. Then lifts it out with gloved hand and places it on marble slab and begins to roll it. Mrs. Martin takes off hat and places it on mantel. Then goes to Kreisler, and lovingly places her cheek against his. Kreisler ceases work and tenderly pats her right cheek with his right hand.) Mrs. Martin: Frederick, 1 want you to give it all up. Let's go. Kreisler: Where is your courage, my dear? Where is your courage? Mrs. Martin: 1 don't know, Fredericks I’m terribly afraid. I'm panic-stricken. There's been too much. Too much. Are gyle's death Kreisler: Sli! Mrs. Martin: And yesterday with thel detectives. Oh, I shouldn't have gbiie there. Kreisler: That was Hurley. That was high-cash advice. Mrs. Martin: No. I risked it myself—f for the money. Honest money. I wanted to be able to say to you: "Here, now, we have enough. Let us ent loose from this life. All these people. Frederick, I want to be safe. - ’ Kreisler: These are foolish little fears. Think how we are already' safe, and! think of all the years that I've spent to make us safe. (Lifting bill front money box.) Look at it! It is perfect, t could pass that to the experts of thu Treasury. It will be the first time iri the history of the world and it is X who shall do it. In a few weeks the whole country will be flooded with them. Chicago, Denver, San Francisco, New Orleans, Philadelphia, Boston, and New York —ail on the same day. Then wu shall go out with the whole world for our playground. Mrs Martin: Yes! Yes! But we shall always be hunted, hunted wherever wo go. We can never get away from it. It’S too big, Frederick, it's too big. They'd never let u man who could make a bill like that escape. You know that if one of these men were caught. he'd betray you to save himself. (Kreisler puts bill away in box.) The government would pardon him, would pardon them all, to get you. safe. Every prison in the world would be waiting for you. Mutual Confidences. Kreisler: 1 shall never go to prisoit again! If I'm caught I'll kill myself. Mrs. Martin: Then 1 hope to God you'll kill me too, Frederick. I'd never have the courage to kill myself, mid it would be the end of everything for me. Kreisler.: Ah! You see, the great soul! You give up everything for mo. Y’oit leave everybody. You give up your little daughter. You share prison witfl me and I —l take —take—take. I ant the selfish one. And now, when I say I woukl take my life, you would share death with me. Al|! \ou see the great soul! (Kre.Mer returns to work.) Mrs. Martin: Oh, if I coukl only make you feel as I do! I'm so oppressed! Frederick, this is a great thing that you’ve intended, this process of colourphotogrnphy. Think what can be dona with it. It would bring fame to you and an honest fortune,

Kreisler: Yea. my love, in an honest world. But they would cheat me. They would steal it. Ami sec! 1 must have money to finance it. to protect it. When all this blows over, in Germany, perhaps-. Who knows* These mutual confidences are interrupted by the entrance of Hurley. Hurley: What’s this about- you’re bringing a strange woman here? (Putting hat on table and coat on chair.) Airs. A'urtin: That’s right. You needn’t worry about that. I know what I'm doing. Hurley: What are you doing? Kreisler: Don’t be so rough. »She can explain to you. (He puts bills in money box and locks it.) Hurley: Who is it? Airs. Martin: Miss Masuret. Hurley: What? Here! Airs. Martin: Kayton asked me to take charge of her. Hurley: Aly God! Are you crazy? Airs. Alartin: It would have been crazy to refuse. Hurley: This is a plant. Alih. Alartin : But listen! Hurley: The one person in the world that you should have kept farthest away •from! Kreisler: Do not talk. Hurley! Listen! Listen! Airs. Marlin: When I went in yesterday, about the legacy, he was planning to have the girl disappear. He wanted to protect her from reporters. And, besides, he suspected some one in the Argyle House, and he wanted to throw all suspicion on her, and put them off their guard. I Kreisler slowly and in deep thought walks, towards door.) It was my telling him 1 had furnished Yooms that put the idea in his head. Tie thought, of course, that I must be under obligations to Mr. Argyle, and I couldn’t refuse to take her without arousing his suspicions. How could 1? What excuse could 1 give? I couldn’ttell him why we didn’t want her in the house. Kreisler: It would have been Letter to let that legacy go. Hurley: Hold on! Wait a minute! What was that? Do you mean to tell me that he’s using us to throw the real criminals oil' their guard? Airs. Martin: Because he wanted her to disappear, don’t you understand? He put the whole plan right in my hands. Tie was puzzling about it when I came in. Sin* was there, and lie was trying ■to make some arrangement. (During the boisterous laughter on Hurley’s part in the .rest of the scene, at each burst of laughter. Kreisler hushes him in great anxiety for fear he should be heard by Kayton and Mary.) Hurley: (Springing up and going.) Well, by God! Never-Sleep Kayton! Isn’t he wonderful, this great detective? Never-Sleep Kayton. (Laughs.) Oh, it\s all advertising. He's a pin-head. The Final Act. Hurley goes away. Hardly is he gone when, from various indications, the criminals begin to realise that everything is not as it should be. Kreisler puts away the tools of his trade and leaves the room momentarily. When Airs. Martin i* alone, Kay (on (suddenly enters with Alary. “Mrs. Martin.” he remarks, my men are watching this house. The ‘personal’ you answered was a plant. There was no sm-h legacy.” Mrs. Martin is dumbfounded. He promises her mercy, if not immunity, in return for a full confession. Airs. Martin refuses to linden to his proposal. Kreisler reappears and threatens to kill him. Kayton’s men rush to his rescue. Kreisler shoots himself. The final act takes place in Kayton’s ofliee. He vainly attempts to wrest Frederick's secret processes or the tsecrei of the murder from All's. Martin. He nevertheless • frames up” a confession to which he appends •Airs. Martin** signature. This document •he holds in readiness when Hurley, somewhat distraught but still unsuspecting, (•liters his ofiice in response to a cleverlyworded telephone call. “ I’m very busy this morning, Mr. Kayton,” the remarkfl, ” hut I waul to oblige you. What is the clue?”

Kayton: (Still busy with papers.) li’m ii little better than n clue. I think we’ve got the man who killed Argyle. Hurley: (Stands, staring at him, very white.) Well, well! Xayton: Have a cigar. Sit down. tHurley: Who is it? Who is it? Kayton: I’ll tell you alioul .that -ait down. (Hurley «i(*.’ There .is a flight paiMe, Kayton swinging round in chair

towards him.) Mr Hurley, when did it first occur to you that Mr Argyle’s mind was affected’ Hurley (after a pause): I don’t get you. Kayton: You will. You don’t think you could interest a man in his position, a millionaire, in a scheme for counterfeiting, if he were in his right mind’ Hurley (deliberately): What do you mean ? Kayton: Mr Hurley, did you ever try a case? Hurley (off guard) : You forget that I’m a lawyer. Kayton: 1 don’t forget it. I don't believe it. Hurley: What are you driving at? Kayton: Mr Hurley, did you ever see a dictograph? lliirley: A what? Kayton: A dictograph (showing dictograph). 'Don’t be afraid. It won't b'te you. It doesn’t do anything but listen, and its got the longest ears. It makes a sucker look like a jackass. So you saw it in the morning papers before you packed your bag. We arrested a gang of counterfeiters last night. After we had been listening to them for some time with our little dictograph. Interesting conversation, too. Hurley. They ■say listeners never hear any good of themselves. Let me read you what you said about me (reads Hurley’s lines). “Never-Sieep Kayton. Isn’t he wonderful, this great detective? Oh, it’s all advertising.” I’m sore on you for that. “Eli, Kreister? He’s a pin-head. Sh! Hurley, not so loud.” Hurley (rising): You think you can bluff me with a frame up thing like that? Kayton: Let me finish. We pinched

the whole bunch, and I advised Mrs Martin to do what she could for' 'herself by making n complete statement of the facts, as she knew them; and in her confession here, she not only implicates you with these counterfeiters, but she also charges you with the murder of Argyle. Hurley: It’s a d -fl lie! That’s all a fake. Kayton: Do you know that signature? Hurley: I tell you it’s a fake. To protect herself. Kayton: Do you mean to say that Airs Martin is responsible for the death of Argyle? (Kayton touches button. Exit Leischmann. Enter Mrs Martin.) Mrs Martin, Hurley just stated that you killed John Argyle. •Mrs Martin: What! You you -you! It’s a lie. He killed him! ■Mary and Bruce are/ cleared. Mis Alartin is merely detained as a witness. And Mary wins not only her rehabilitation, but a husband —in Never-Sleep Kav--1 on. "Dramatising the Bible, Biblical themes are, as a rule, tabooed on the stage. The public or, as has usually been the case, the censor, resents the adaptation of sacred lore to the usages of the theatre. Yet. every playwright, ns Mr L. N. Parker remarks in an interview, must look with longing at the great dramatic stories in the Bible and yearn to bring them to visible life on the stage. “Certainly, he. adds, “every .playwright who, l>ehind. and under...the veneer of iiersitiage with which a moderately modest man conceals his respect

for his own art, must wisii that he had an opportunity of dignifying the stage by transferring one of their epics to its boards. In England we have until now been denied this privilege. The ban of the censor was laid on Bible subjects. Now, however, that we have had Salomes innumerable, now that Mendelssohn’s Elijah has been performed aa an opera, and that Delilah has cut Samson’s hair to Saint-Saen<s’ tunes, I hope that the ban will be lifted.” Mr Parker’s own dramatisation of the story of Joseph and his- brethren will, perhaps, be most effective in finally lifting the ban. For in this pageant, play, as the “New York Times” remarks, we find not only the reverential embodiment of a lovely story, but an entertainment, exceptionally impressive in its appeal. “It may be doubted indeed,” the writer goes on to say, “whether our stage has ever seen a more completely satisfying play made from a Bible story.” The writer continues: “In the material aids of scenery, costume, colour and music, the various co-operating forces have been singularly successful. From first to last the story is quickly, vividly and fascinatingly unfolded, and there-are splendid effects of chiaroscuro, not only in the pictures, but in the contrasts of the fi,gures and their actions. So a real history seems to be unfolding itself with the rounded completeness of life itself, rather than a mere story in the flat. Captious critics will urge, perhaps, that the story of Joseph is in itself so beautiful and varied that it needed no additions from modern hands. And that in a sense is true. But it is apparent that Mr Parker has realised that in presenting such a pageant in the theatre the needs of the lesser, as well as the greater, intelligence must be considered. And so there are scenes to stir the blood of the unimaginative spectator as he may not be stirred by those subtler, deeper notes of retribution and redemption which are natural to the narrative.”

The Best Story Ever Told. The “Bulletin" of the Play-going Committee of the New York Drama League is equally unqualified in its praise. Hall Caine once remarked that the story of Joseph and his brethren was the best story ever told, in or out of the Old Testament. In many of its incidents, and in its spiritual message, the tale of Joseph may be regarded as the forerunner of the story of Christ. In Mr Parker’s version, says “Current Opinion," the similarity of these two wonderful narratives is subtly but perceptibly emphasised. Mr Parker, of course, was not the first to realise the dramatic value of ■the incidents in Joseph’s career as told in the Bible. Several poetic versions of the story- may be found both in the old and in the more recent English drama. Two Joseph plays have held the Yiddish stage for many decades. All these versions follow the original story with great fidelity. Mr Parker, without altering the story as a whole, has taken numerous liberties. In this expansion lay the difficulty and the danger. The critic of the “Evening Post,” for instance, objects to Mr Parker having tried io intensify the dramatic action which “needed no such buttressing by a recourse to cheap melodramatic expedients, which, instead of embellishing the original story, tend to vulgarise and belittle it.” The same writer especially objects to the introduc-

tion of one Zuleika, Potiphar’s wife, whese blood and fancy is fired at the first sight of Joseph, when, having been cast into a pit by his unfeeling brethren, he is dragged from the midst of slime and serpents. She takes him as a slave into Egypt. How this unhappy lady, wife of Potiphar, the captain of Pharaoh’s army, seeks to tempt Joseph to forget his duty, and 'how, in jealous anger, she has him thrown into’a dungeon vile, are parts of a twice, and many more times, told melodramatic tale, bitt it is effectively employed. And it serves very well to bring contrast and variety to the general proceedings. There is, moreover, “true love’s story,” worked ■out very charmingly with As.enath, daughter of the High Priest, «s the loyal object of Joseph’s devotion. The critic of “The Times,” in 'his laudatory notice, says: “The action proceeds from the tents of Shehem, where Jacob rejoices in the majority of his last-born child, Joseph, son of Rachel, and where he presents him with the coat of many colours, while the brethren stand by, bitter and disconsolate, at the favours accorded to ‘the dreamer.’ And the scene of the betrayal at the wells of Dothan is promptly followed by a return to Jacob’s tent, where all make merry in preparation for a fete in Joseph’s honour. But the brothers return without ‘the dreamer,' falsifying the facts in accordance with Simeon’s instructions, and leaving to the friendly Reuben the difficult task of telling the old man of Joseph’s death. Comes presently Reuben, weeping and bearing the coat of many colours, upon 'which, unbeknown to him, the blood of the ewe lamb has been spread. And there is weeping and wailing in Israel. The second act is de-

voted largely to the etory of Zuleika’e plot against Potiphar, ami her unsuccessful quest for Joseph’s love, and tho varied action is carried on in four scenes. Potiphar is obliged to go out to fight the, invading hordes,. and leaves Joseph to oversee his household.” The rest of the story and its finale are history. JI G.B.'s Introduction. Baron Palli Rosenkrantz, a prominent Danish author, quotes in a Copenhagen journal an amusing letter of introduction to Mr Borup, another Danish author, which lie received from Mr George Bernard Shaw in 1907. Mr Borup had translated "Man and Superman” into Scandinavian with indifferent success, and the Baron was anxious to re-translate the play.

“He (the Baron) tells me,” wrote Mr Shaw, “that you are not a poet; that you don’t know English nor a syllable .of Danish; that without his help and influence you will never get anything accepted for the stage, and that he will gladly leave you the entire profit and all the fame if you will only allow him to give the translation the proper dramatic form....

“(He is a very charming, enthusiastic, well-meaning, imaginative, dramatically gifted idiot. Be kind enough to chat with him, but don’t get impatient, and let him do all the talking. He loves to hear himself talk, and will readily fork out everything he knows about the Danish drama....

“I rather like the beggar, but just study the back of his head and his ears, and then go and look at yourself in the, mirror. After that you will confidently lay your own translation against his (although I admit his ears remind me a good deal of my own).” “Shaw is a witty dog,” remarks the Baron (who eventually got permission to translate the piece and sold it), “and I only wish I resembled him in other directions than the ears!” J* JS Stray Notes. Miss Helen Sandow, daughter of the famous Mr Eugen Sandow, played the title role of “Veronique,” which was produced by Lloyd's Operatic Society at the Royal Court Theatre in London last month. Though only 16 years of age, and with no experience of the stage whatever, Miss Sandow was invited at the shortest notice to play the principal part owing to the illness of the leading lady. Within ‘24 hours she was both word perfect arid music perfect and took her part in a full rehearsal to the complete satisfaction of the producer. Mr W. S. Penley, the famous comedian and creator of “Charley’s Aunt,” left estate of the gross value of £15,642, of which the net personalty has been sworn at £10,959. Mr Penley was generally credited with having made a largo fortune from “Charley's Aunt,” and his estate proved to be not so large as was commonly believed. The amounts left by other notable actons of Penley's time are as follows:—• Sir Henry Irving £20,527 Wilson Barrett 30,862 William Terriss 18,257 J. L. Toole 79,984 Edwin Booth 24,000 David James 41,594 Corney Grain 18,950 Fred Leslie 16,113 Dan Leno 10,994 Herbert Campbell 4,477 Edward Terry 44,056 George Grossmith 19,628 “I get many amusing letters,” says Mr. Oscar : Asehe, “but I think I can accord the palm to Mr. Smith.” The veteran actor was alluding to a unique missive which reached him by post bearing the signature, “F. Smith, Abbotsford, Sydney.” I have not space for the whole letter, but the conclusion is worth quoting:—“Admittedly your name is something of a boom, but why I can’t tell. You can stage a Shakespearean play magnificently, and you can also act the same outrageously. Presumably, fame goes with name nowadays. Your name Asehe is rather original. I take it that the publie, for some reason or other, would rather see Mr. Asehe act than they would Mr. Smith, even if the latter gentleman gave a more artistic and true to life performance than Mr. Asehe. But that’s a side issue. I want to impress upon you the all-important fact that, if you will only conscientiously study a lot more the great art of Shakespeare, and give a little less to the public of the haw-haw swagger and a

little more of the real thing, if it’s possible, then, indeed, and not till then, you may consider yourself a rather moderate actor.” ... , ~

Realising that the kernel of this outbreak was that Mr Asehe would not be such a success under the name of Smith, a number of popular favourites were approached for their views. Mr. Fred Niblo admitted that his stage name was the same as was given to him by his godfathers and godmothers when he. was baptised. Mr. Robert Greig, of the same company, said Greig was his own name. His brother, in the same company, goes by the name of Lawrence Hardinge, for fear of disgracing the family. Mr. Hardingesaid it was the other way about, and that his is the family name. Miss Beatrice Holloway stated that she chose her stage name largely on account of the wide publicity it had been given by the pill people. Mr. Jack Cannot wrote that his name was originally “Cann,” like the New South Wales Treasurer. Out of a sense of humility he altered it to Cannot. Miso Violet Lorraing, said she chose her Christian’ name because of the violet being a symbol of modesty’ and sweetness. Miss Josephine Cohan hastened to explain that just as some Smiths change their name to Smythe, hers was altered from Cohen to Cohan. “Only," she remarked, “it was done by my ancestors in Ireland.” Miss Blanche Browne and Miss Irene Browne both said that they have gone as near to Smith as they dared. The following all wished Mr. Smith to understand, confidentially, that Smith is their maiden name:— Miss Daisy Cheyne, Miss Alice Russon, Miss Ritußenas, and Miss Ivy’ Schilling (of “Puss in Boots” pantomime), Mr. Julius Knight, Mr. lan Penny, Miss Or-ton-Dring, Mr. Herbert Grimwood, Mr. Frederick Worlock, Mr. Alexander Ons-" low’, Mr. Caleb Porter, Mr. Penderell Price.

The establishment of a vaudeville Theatre in London ie part of the “extension” scheme of Mr. Ben .1. Fuller, governing director of the Brennan-1' uller Australasian circuit. Mr. Fuller informs us that the London theatre, apart from being a place of amusement, will be used to test new English acts before those acts are sent to Australia. It is also the intention of the management to make the theatre a starting-point for Australian acts in England.

Mr. Pinero does not appear to possess the art of writing one-act plays. His “ Widow of Wasdale Head,” for instance, was a failure the other day, and now he has written another, “The Playgoers, wtiich has received rough handling from some of the London critics. The scaffolding of the piece, one reads, promised a good deal of fun, but this promise was not fulfilled. The story is that of a young master and mistress, who, desirous of keeping their servants, hit on the plan of sending them to the theatre every week. The five servants practically reject the offer for one reason or another. The superior parlourmaid is “ willing ” if a seat is engaged for her fiance. The cook, not to be outdone, demands a second ticket for her favourite nephew, and so on. Not much fun is built round this fabric, and the young master and mistress are singularly tactless and overbearing, although they are not intended to be. The “ Daily Telegraph” writes of the play in very severe terms, saying that it betrayed itself as nothing better than a vulgar and trashy attempt to “guy” an imaginary set of domestic servants, without any apparent purpose beyond a snobbish ami patronising parade of so-called class distinction. Mrs. Harry Thaw, who became notorious as the result of the shooting of Stanford White by her husband, who is now in durance, has, according to a recent cablegram, signed a contract to appear in the revue, "Hullo, Ragtime!” at the London Hippodrome. Her salary is to be £6OO per week. “Hullo, Ragtime!” is the curiously named revpe which has been running to great business at the London Hippodrome since Christmas. It was written by Max Peiuberton and Albert de Courville, while the music is by Louis Kirsch. This is one of the most lavishly mounted revues yet produced in London, and is written of as “a procession of splendours,” with plenty of humour of the most irresponsible description. New people join the company from time to time, and all sorts of novel ideas are added to the entertainment. Amongst the features ia a burlesque, in which Mr. O. P. Heggie (well-known here) appeal's, and, according to the London critics, with great success. Minnie Tittell Brune, who went to England with a modest programme, and who

is apparently carrying it out, had some nice things recently said about her Nell Gwynne. in the play of that name, at the Lyceum Theatre, London. One critic wrote: —“Were Samuel Pepys alive today and indulging his weakness for the theatre, what a lot of nice things he would write down in his diary about Miss Tittel Brune’s ‘Little Nelly’ at the Lyceum! More complimentary’ he would be to the Lyceum Nell than ever he was to the original, for he could not endure the latter’s tragedy, and Miss Tittel Brune’s tragic moments are among the best of the points she makes.” The next important dramatic company to visit New Zealand shortly will be the Hamilton-Plimmer Company, at present appearing in “A Woman of Impulse,” at the Princess Theatre, Melbourne. The Dominion tour begins at Invercargill on June 16th and 17th. Auckland dates are August 4th to 16th. Petite, bright, and vivacious—a typical, jolly, American girl—Mary Worth, who has been brought from America by J. C. Williamson, Ltd., for "Within the Law,” is physically and temperamentally suited to the role of Agnes Lynch, an artistic confidence woman. The character is one of the most interesting that has yet been seen in a drama of this kind. Agnes Lynch, even to her associates, has the veneer and affectations of the young society girl. Fascinating, persuasive, and chic, it is not surprising that she is able to coil rich men into her net, and bleed them by blackmailing or threats of breach-of-promise suits. But, externally, she is able to successfully' assume the good breeding and manners of the daughter of a rich banker, whose identity she carries. In a striking scene —one of the best in the piece—she even deceives Police-Inspector Burke, who is on the track of her associates, and he is just on the point of apologising to her for having taken her to be a “crook,” when in walks Detec-tive-Sergeant Cassidy. “Why, hello, Aggie!”, he exclaims, in surprise, “what are you doing here?” “Gee, if that isn’t the damnedest luck,” says Aggie, whose assumed identity falls to the ground, and Police-Inspector Burke, the ’cutest man in the force-, sinks back amazed. “That’s the very first time it’s been put over me by a crook! ’’ is - his expressive comment to indicate his disgust. ' . . Successful new prays are not coming forward in London rapidly enough, but the comedy “The Great Adventure, by Mr. Arnold Bennett (part author of “Milestones”)’ seems to have warn public appreciation at the Kingsway. The great adventure is that of Ham Carve, a famous painter, who lets his dying valet be taken for himself, and later, be buried in Westminster Abbey as Liam Carve amid the grief of a sorrowing nation. The best line among many’ clever ones is near the end of the play, when someone at last asks: “ But why did you let him be buried in your name?” Carve replies: “Oh, well, he always did everything for me!” Carve really let it happen because he was such an excessively shy’ and nervous person that he was never able to pluck up the courage necessary to stop an error which had once started rolling. Being a celebrity held many terrors for him. which he tried to escape by hiding on the Continent. If people think him dead, he imagines, there will be peace on earth. But he has foreseen none of the inevitable consequences, the first of which is that an unsympathetic cousin, the only relative, comes in immediately aftei‘ the death, of the real valet, and orders the supposed valet out of the house with a month's wages and other indignities. Mr Henry Ainley, Miss Wish Wynne, Messrs. Claude King, Guy Rathbone, and Dawson Milward are in tho east.

A peculiar and painful accident occurred to Mr. Maurice ( henow.eth, a tenor. When singing at the National Amphitheatre, Sydney, Mr. Chenoweth was standing in the wings during the sharp-shooting act of Carl Prinz ami his monkeys, when the wad from a .22 bullet from a Winchester rifle struck him on an eye, causing it to become inflamed. There was no time then for Mr. Chenoweth to leave the stage, although he was asked to do so by the management. He insisted on singing his two songs, one of which appropriately enough was “Let Me Like a Soldier Fail.”

Mrs. Henry Bracy, wile of the veteran producer, connected with J. C. Williamson, Ltd., is now on the active list ot motion picture mummers in America. Mrs. Bracy tried the work in motion pictures because it is easier and more remunerative, and she says in a recent letter to her husband that she is perfectly

delighted with her position and prospects. Numbers of big actors, she adds, are leaving the legitimate for the photo, play stage, and are enhancing their reputations at the game. Mrs. Bracv, ot course, says "Melbourne Punch,” "wilt be remembered by the past generation of playgoers. As long ago as 1875 she created the dual roles of Girofle-Girofla in thio eity, and was the first in Australia to play Clairette in that old-time favourite—“Madame Angot.”'

It is stated that £4,(MH) was sub scribed in Birmingham for the performances of the Wagner “Ring” by the Quinlan Opera Company. In addition to the four music-dramas which comprise the famous “Ring,” Wagner's “The Meistersingers” will be given by the Quinlan Company during the Australian tour, which is to start at Melbourne in August. Last year there were only two opera seasons —one in Melbourne, the other in Sydney. This year there is to be a season in Adelaide, and New Zealand will also be visited. The company will open the Melbourne season with “The Meistersingers.” The new “star singer” of the company is Miss Felice Lyne, who had a brilliant sueeess as Gilda in “Rigoletto” when she was introduced to London by Mr. Oscar Ham merstein. The young pritna donna will be heard hero in Charpentier's “Louise,” Gounod’s “Romeo and Juliet,” Puccini’s “La Boheme,” Verdi’s "Rigoletto,’’ Offenbach’s “Tales of Hoffman,” and other operas. Mention is made in a musical journal of the rumours concerning Puccini’s next opera. While one London daily announces Puccini’s rejection of D’Annunzio’s poem entitled "The Daughter of the Sea,” the Rome correspondent of “L’Eclair” says that the poet has just finished a new lyrical drama, “The Massacre of the Innocents” (dealing with the earliest Christian epoch), and that the drama “will be set to music by Puccini." Jean de Reszkc does not admire the ultra-modern composers. “I wonder what they are all attempting to accomplish,” he said recently. “Unless music is ugly and bizarre, and tuneless, the modern world doos not seem to want it. Tschaikowsky, Verdi, Weber, the great symphonists, none of them are considered anything to-day. Even Wagner is getting to be looked upon as old-fashioned, especially his early works.” It may be of interest to pianists who have been told that in playing music such as Chopin’s, they were cold and lacking in expression and emotion, that they may be trained in tho qualities In which they are deficient. A writer in the “ Musical Opinion ” has discussed tho question of emotion in music, and <)pneludes the subject in a practical manner, asking the question, “ How does the performer ptoduca these emotional effects by means of his instrument or voice?” “ One good book,” he goes on to say, “describes emotion in these words: ’ Emotionalism implies variation in ions power and variation in length of pulsation.’ How simply expressed, and yet what a world of meaning is Involved in the definition of these two musical essentials. The pianist who fortunately possesses a small amount of brain matter at the finger tips—and why not?—cAf) impart emotional feeling to the most ordinary of compositions and can as it result make it produce to the listeners most pleasurable sensations and feelings; while the singer has the same power with that most perfect of all emotional instruments, the voice. It must be a source of comfort to those individuals, who, being aware of their emotional deficiencies and desirous of training this faculty’, to know that it is quite possible for them to do so, provided that they arc prepared to apply the hundred-and-one rilles which have been discovered for their guidance and aid —for be it remembered, expression and emotion can be trained, and as a result of their labours they too, will have the power of stirring within their hearers those wonderful, undefined feelings which music, tho highest of all forms of art, is capable of produo ing—viz., musical emotion.”