Liebelei
5. Adennenennen
box 11/4
Ih besm 6
EN LIdHT O° LOVB“ AT HIS IMAJESTV'S THEATRE.
It has usually been leftto France and Germany to show us the
Poetry and the stragedy of the relations leading not to marriage
between the young man of wealth and the voung girl of poverty.
Generalisations are dangerous, but there comes to mind no
English play on this subject of the rank of“ Les Hannetons,?
Alt Heidelberg,?’ to take two very dissimilar instances, or of
or
Schnitzler’s“ Libelei, the value of which in an English transia¬
tion was discovered yesterday afternoon. When the subject
attnacts the attention of dhe British or Manx dramatist, only
& The Dancing Girl'' or (with apologies to Mr. Jones)“ The
„Christian?' results; and no doubt such works do say all there is
—b be said on the question from the British point of view. We
Ekopt ühe safe and steady rule that if a thing is too shocking for
A play, turn it into a melodrama or a musical comedy.
But shere fhis rule does not run, wonderful are the pictures
which may be drawn of this side of life by the man who has eyes
to see andsthe gift of drawing. Brieux saw and drew the tragedy
of ühe man and the woman unable to part, and was cynical;
Schnitzler saw the tragedy of the parting and mourned; and the#
moralist may pick crumbs of comfort from the reflection that it is
tragedy both ways. But Schnitzler does not state the problem in
its most acute form. In countries where wild oats are a com¬
paratively respectable vegetable, the girl who has given herself
body and soul finds sooner or later that the man must marry in
his own set; and if her soul is really given, she probably ends, if
French, in the Seine, and if German in the—no, not in the Spree;
if Genman she will adopt some method other than drowning. Thät
is thie tragedy with the sensc of thie inevitable; but it is less in¬
evitable that the man, really loving her all the time, should be
shot bv the husband of another woman, whom he also really loves.
That tlie voung man is in this position is a curious and remarkable
kind of accident, making him rather worthy to be kicked; and
this is the only noticeable weakness in an otherwise fine and, at
times, strikingly beautiful play.
Nor does this weakness in anv way touch Christine, the central
figurc of the story. She is the daughter of a simple old nuisician,
and Fritz is her first and only love. She is no inhabitant of thef
half-world, but of that world where there is no immorality, hut
only absolute trust; a distinstion which may secm subtle to inter¬
fering neighbours like Frau Biäder, but is obvious at once as soon
as you see Christine. She revels at Fritz’s supper with Theodor
and Mizi, who take dife lightly, and to wihom wild oats are wild g
oats and motlung more; but her revelling is ladylike and touched
with sadness, for Eritz, theugh professig love, is worried, and
has a secret which he makes very clumsy efforts to conccal. The#
secret is that the husband has paid a short call, and tlie duel is to
take place to-morrow. He gives hints about love being not ##
eternal, which frighten her; and parts from her with an air of
distraction which leaves her full of foreboding. Mizi maddens her
by speaking of men as Mizi knows them, and of loves which pass
and are forgotten. Frau Binder hints unpleasant things, and can¬
not be expected to understand. Finally she confesses all to her
father. Then she finds that Fritz is dead. He was shot in a duel,
sighting for another woman. She will go to him. But she can't,
for he is buried; they buried him that morning. She will go to
his grave. But the othel woman, they remind her awkwardly,
may be praying there. She is not going to pray; and in a burst
of passion, half bitterness, half uncontrollable grief, she rushes
out to an end we do not know, but an end which can only be death.
The old father knows; and he says she will never come back.
And so is the moralist justified; but in his triumph will pay a
tribute to a scene of wonderful beauty and power. Clearly
very much depended upon the actress. A chance like this. had
never yet come to Miss Margaret Halstan, at any rate in any play
in which she had appeared in London; and she rose to the occa¬
sion magnificently. Sincerity and intelligence she had always
shown; but this was a revelation of a new capacity for che perfect
expression of the keenest emotion which was beyond anything
which she has hitherto given reason to expect. It was a really fine
performance, and will go far towards establishing her in the very
front rank. But the whole of the acting would have done credit
I. W.
even to a German company acting its native plays.
enn e e
TIE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE will be sent post free for 9d, per week
to any part of the British Isles; or for 1s. to any place abroad within the
Postal Union.
5. Adennenennen
box 11/4
Ih besm 6
EN LIdHT O° LOVB“ AT HIS IMAJESTV'S THEATRE.
It has usually been leftto France and Germany to show us the
Poetry and the stragedy of the relations leading not to marriage
between the young man of wealth and the voung girl of poverty.
Generalisations are dangerous, but there comes to mind no
English play on this subject of the rank of“ Les Hannetons,?
Alt Heidelberg,?’ to take two very dissimilar instances, or of
or
Schnitzler’s“ Libelei, the value of which in an English transia¬
tion was discovered yesterday afternoon. When the subject
attnacts the attention of dhe British or Manx dramatist, only
& The Dancing Girl'' or (with apologies to Mr. Jones)“ The
„Christian?' results; and no doubt such works do say all there is
—b be said on the question from the British point of view. We
Ekopt ühe safe and steady rule that if a thing is too shocking for
A play, turn it into a melodrama or a musical comedy.
But shere fhis rule does not run, wonderful are the pictures
which may be drawn of this side of life by the man who has eyes
to see andsthe gift of drawing. Brieux saw and drew the tragedy
of ühe man and the woman unable to part, and was cynical;
Schnitzler saw the tragedy of the parting and mourned; and the#
moralist may pick crumbs of comfort from the reflection that it is
tragedy both ways. But Schnitzler does not state the problem in
its most acute form. In countries where wild oats are a com¬
paratively respectable vegetable, the girl who has given herself
body and soul finds sooner or later that the man must marry in
his own set; and if her soul is really given, she probably ends, if
French, in the Seine, and if German in the—no, not in the Spree;
if Genman she will adopt some method other than drowning. Thät
is thie tragedy with the sensc of thie inevitable; but it is less in¬
evitable that the man, really loving her all the time, should be
shot bv the husband of another woman, whom he also really loves.
That tlie voung man is in this position is a curious and remarkable
kind of accident, making him rather worthy to be kicked; and
this is the only noticeable weakness in an otherwise fine and, at
times, strikingly beautiful play.
Nor does this weakness in anv way touch Christine, the central
figurc of the story. She is the daughter of a simple old nuisician,
and Fritz is her first and only love. She is no inhabitant of thef
half-world, but of that world where there is no immorality, hut
only absolute trust; a distinstion which may secm subtle to inter¬
fering neighbours like Frau Biäder, but is obvious at once as soon
as you see Christine. She revels at Fritz’s supper with Theodor
and Mizi, who take dife lightly, and to wihom wild oats are wild g
oats and motlung more; but her revelling is ladylike and touched
with sadness, for Eritz, theugh professig love, is worried, and
has a secret which he makes very clumsy efforts to conccal. The#
secret is that the husband has paid a short call, and tlie duel is to
take place to-morrow. He gives hints about love being not ##
eternal, which frighten her; and parts from her with an air of
distraction which leaves her full of foreboding. Mizi maddens her
by speaking of men as Mizi knows them, and of loves which pass
and are forgotten. Frau Binder hints unpleasant things, and can¬
not be expected to understand. Finally she confesses all to her
father. Then she finds that Fritz is dead. He was shot in a duel,
sighting for another woman. She will go to him. But she can't,
for he is buried; they buried him that morning. She will go to
his grave. But the othel woman, they remind her awkwardly,
may be praying there. She is not going to pray; and in a burst
of passion, half bitterness, half uncontrollable grief, she rushes
out to an end we do not know, but an end which can only be death.
The old father knows; and he says she will never come back.
And so is the moralist justified; but in his triumph will pay a
tribute to a scene of wonderful beauty and power. Clearly
very much depended upon the actress. A chance like this. had
never yet come to Miss Margaret Halstan, at any rate in any play
in which she had appeared in London; and she rose to the occa¬
sion magnificently. Sincerity and intelligence she had always
shown; but this was a revelation of a new capacity for che perfect
expression of the keenest emotion which was beyond anything
which she has hitherto given reason to expect. It was a really fine
performance, and will go far towards establishing her in the very
front rank. But the whole of the acting would have done credit
I. W.
even to a German company acting its native plays.
enn e e
TIE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE will be sent post free for 9d, per week
to any part of the British Isles; or for 1s. to any place abroad within the
Postal Union.