Part 3
As _Manon_, the querulous termagant that _Tony_ had taken for mistress, Miss HILDA MOORE was not very kindly served by her part--so rudimentary that its highest flight was achieved when, with a Parthian shot, she referred to _Tony_ as a geni-ass.
I will not forecast a limited success for this play, for who would dare to say that there is not always room in the broad British bosom for yet another triumph of sentiment over ideas--I speak of the play itself and not of the performance? If only for Miss LÖHR'S sake I could wish that the best of fortune may attend it; for to have worn her hair as she did in the Second Act, out of regard for the period, was a sacrifice as fine as any that women have shown in the course of Armageddon (if I may judge of them by their portraits in the Photographic Press), and she ought to have her reward, bless her heart! O.S.
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"GENERAL POST."
It would be easy to make fun of the exaggerations and ultra-simplifications of Mr. TERRY'S new comedy. It is much pleasanter (and juster) to dwell on its wholesomeness, its easy humour and its effect of honest entertainment. Not a highbrow adventure, it is not to be judged by highbrow standards. It is decently in key, and an exceptionally clever cast carried it adroitly over any rough places. Remarkable, too, as almost the first popular testimonial since the War began to the too-much-taken-for-granted Territorials, who worked in the old days while we scoffed and golfed. That's all to the good.
[Illustration: THE TAILOR WHO DID NOT NEED TO PRESS HIS SUIT.
_Sir Dennys Broughton_ ... MR. NORMAN MCKINNEL.
_Lady Broughton_ ... MISS LILIAN BRAITHWAITE.
_Edward Smith (tailor)_ ... MR. GEORGE TULLY.]
Our author's hero is an excellent provincial tailor, who is also keen _Captain Smith_ in the Sheffingham Terriers. As tailor his chief customer, as soldier his contemptuous scandalised critic, is _Sir Dennys Broughton_, whose wayward flapper daughter _Betty_ is in the early fierce stages of revolt against the stuffiness of life at Grange Court, meets _Smith_ over some boys' club work, and, finding brains and dreams in him (a formidable contrast to her loafing brother), falls into passionate first-love. _Smith_ is just as badly if more soberly hit, and recognising the impossibility of the situation (quite apart from demonstrations by the alarmed _Broughtons_) decides to take his tape and shears to his London house of business. The date of all this being about the time of the misguided _Panther's_ fateful leap on Agadir.
## Act II. brings us to the second year of the War. Young _Broughton_, puppy
no longer, is gloriously in it, and has just been gazetted to a Territorial regiment whose Colonel bears the not uncommon name of Smith. Our tailor, of course, and a rattling fine soldier too. Having discovered this latter fact and also formed a remarkably cordial relationship apparently in a single day, the enthusiastic cub subaltern (distemper and snobbishness over and done with) motors up his C.O., who is visiting his brother and partner, and brings him in to Grange Court on the way. _Sir Dennys_, now a brassarded private and otherwise a converted man, is still confoundedly embarrassed, and stands anything but easy in the presence of his youngster's Colonel. _Lady Broughton_, least malleable of the group, is frankly appalled by this new _mésalliance_. Perhaps Mr. TERRY'S version of blue-blooded insolence and fatuity is for his stage purpose rather crudely coloured, but who shall say that the doctrine that a man in khaki who has been an elementary schoolmaster or a tailor is a man for a' that, is quite universally accepted in the best circles even in this year of grace? _Betty_, now a grown girl in the cynical stage, revenges herself with feline savagery on the knight of the shears for the imagined slight of his defection.
## Act III. is dated 19? just after peace is declared. The tailor is not (as I
half expected) back in his shop, but a _Brigadier-General Smith, V.C._, is being invested with the freedom of Sheffingham and is making a spirited attack on the defences of _Betty_. She puts up enough of a fight to ensure a good Third Act, and capitulates charmingly to the delight, now, of all the _Broughton_ household--butler included. I hope Mr. TERRY is right and that the places taken in this great war game of _General Post_ and the values registered will have permanence.
I won't deny that the excellent moral of the play goes far to disarm one's critical faculty. Why not confess that one lost one's heart to the nicest tailor since _Evan Harrington_? Indeed, Mr. TULLY (always, I find, quite admirable in characterisation, and that no mere matter of outward trick, but duly charged with feeling) made just such a decent, lovable, sideless officer as it has been the pride of the nation of shopkeepers to produce in the day of challenge. Whoever was it dared cast Mr. MCKINNEL for the part of a weak kindly old ass of a baronet, without any ruggedness or violence in his composition? Congratulations to the unknown perspicacious hero and to Mr. MCKINNEL! Miss MADGE TITHERADGE flapped prettily as a flapper; bit cleanly and cruelly in her biting mood; surrendered most engagingly. This is less than justice. She used her queer caressing voice and her reserves of emotional power to fine effect. Miss LILIAN BRAITHWAITE made her _Lady Broughton_ nearly credible and less "unsympathetic" than was just. Mr. DANIELL is new to me. He played one of those difficult foil parts with a really nice discretion.
The audience was genuinely pleased. It dragged from the author a becomingly modest acknowledgment. He _did_ owe a great deal to his players, but a writer of stage plays need not be ashamed of that. T.
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[Illustration: _Ethel (playing at grown-ups)._ "IS YOUR HUSBAND IN THE WAR, MRS. BROWN?" _Mabel._ "OH YES, OF COURSE, MRS. SMITH."
_Ethel._ "IS HE IN FRANCE?" _Mabel._ "NO, HE'S IN THE WAR LOAN."]
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THE PLOT PRECAUTIONARY.
(_The KAISER addresses his Transatlantic Faithful._)
Ye stalwart Huns and strident, Who can't come home again, Because base Albion's trident, Though largely on the wane, Still occupies successfully the surface of the main;
Give ear, my gallant fellows, While I the truth declare; Britain's expiring bellows Will shortly rend the air; Wiping the earth up then will be a simplified affair.
But, while at home our Hunnish Valour obtains the day, It must be yours to punish The craven U.S.A., Debouching on them unawares from Sinaloa way.
I make the rough suggestion, And it shall be your care To solve the minor question Of how and when and where, Aided by Gen. CARRANZA, the party with the hair.
Some pesos and centavos He will of course demand Before he leads his bravos Across the Rio Grande; Offer the fellow all he wants--in German notes of hand.
Meanwhile the Hyphenated, Busy with bomb and knife, Will likewise hand the hated Gringos a taste of strife, Starting with Colonel ROOSEVELT and the Editor of _Life_.
These are, in brief, the vistas That swim before my ken; So tell the Carranzistas To up and act like men; And say the money's coming on, but do not mention when.
Bid them with sword and fire wreck The pale Pacific West; And tell SYLVESTER VIERECK And BARTHOLDT and the rest To call the Lagerbund to arms and jump on WILSON'S chest.
There'll be some opposition-- That I can quite foresee; But bear in mind your mission Must primarily be To keep the swine-dog Yankees from jumping on to _me_! ALGOL.
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Our Commercial Stylists.
"--, SONS & CO., LTD.,
ARE SHOWING A DELIGHTFUL RANGE OF CORSETS, EMBRACING THE MOST APPROVED MODELS."--_Glasgow Herald._
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"Dover: Gas up 5d. a 1,000. Tunbridge Wells: Gas up 2d. a 1,000. Lord Selborne is up again, after a chill."--_Evening News._
Good, but how much?
* * * * *
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerics._)
_The Snare_ (SECKER) impressed me as a tale emphatically prededicate to the footlights. Actually, by the way, Mr. RAFAEL SABATINI has dedicated it "to LEON M. LEON, who told me this story"--which, of course, only strengthens my belief. Anyhow, it has every mark of the romantic drama--a picturesque setting, that of the Peninsular War, rich in possibilities for the scenic and sartorial arts; and a strongly emotional plot, leading up to a situation that could be relied upon to bring down the house. I shall, of course, not tell you the plot. It contains a jealous husband, an injudicious wife, a hero and heroine, a villain (of foreign extraction) and a god in the machine, who is none other than our IRON DUKE himself. And the situation in the last Act offers as pretty a piece of table-turning as any audience need desire. I wish I could explain how the DUKE plays with his enemies, and finally--but no, I said I wouldn't, and I will keep my word. Two little carpings, however. Surely it is wrong to speak of "catch half-penny" journalism in the time of WELLINGTON. My impression is that the journalists of those days caught at least fourpence by their wares. And I confess to an emotion of disappointment when the heroine bounced up at the court-martial and said that the hero couldn't have committed the murder because he was "in her arms" at the time. Of course he hadn't been; and I very much doubt whether any Court would have believed her for two minutes. But leading ladies love saying it, so I suppose the very out-worn device will have to be retained in the stage version. I look forward to this with much pleasure.
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That clever lady, ELINOR MORDAUNT, has collected into the volume that she calls _Before Midnight_ (CASSELL) a series of short stories of a psychic (though not always ghostly) character, which, while not very eerie, or on the same high level, are at their best both original and impressive. The first of them, which affords excuse for a highly-intriguing cover-picture, is at once the most spooksome and the least satisfactory. That is to say that, though it opens with a genuine and quite horrible thrill, the "explanation" is obscure and tame. Far more successful, to my mind, is "The Vision," a delicate little idyll of a Midland schoolmarm, to whom is shown the death of Adonis and the lamenting of his goddess-lover. The writing of this touches real beauty (the high-fantastic, instead of the merely high-falutin', which in such connection would have been so fatally easy). To sum up, though one at least of these "dreams before midnight" may quite possibly become a nightmare after it, I fancy that, to all lovers of the occult, the game will be found well worth the bed-room candle.
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There are qualities in _The Bird of Life_, by GERTRUDE VAUGHAN (CHAPMAN AND HALL), which cause me to look forward to this lady's future work with very considerable interest. In the present novel she sets out the life story of _Rachel_ up to a point boldly given as being beyond the conclusion of the War, in which, by the way, both her husband and the man whom she ought to have married are killed on the same day. The first eighty-four pages of the book raised my hopes very high. They describe with great simplicity and sympathy the thoughts and feelings, the romances and difficulties, of an affectionate and lonely little girl living with her _Uncle Matthew_ and her _Aunt Elizabeth_, and loving them both with a childlike fervour. There is no exaggeration; the writing goes true to its mark, and the effect designed by the writer is admirably well made. Then _Uncle Matthew_ dies and _Rachel_ finds a new home in the Vicarage of _Mr. Venning_, a family man if ever there was one, for he has fifteen children. From this point the interest is slightly diluted, and the excellence of the book diminishes. One does not recognise in the more mature _Rachel_ the girl one had expected to find after one's initiation into the secrets of her baby mind. She marries _Edward Venning_, and finds too late that he is, like his father, made up of convention and narrowness. She plans a disappearance, and leaves some of her belongings on the edge of a bottomless tarn. Then, being hypothetically dead, she begins to live her life in her own way. Later on she returns to _Edward_, "on approval for six months"; but this period was apparently not sufficient to break the chain that bound her to Another, and, the War intervening, she is left almost doubly widowed. I feel that I have not quite done justice to Miss VAUGHAN'S book, but, on the other hand, I am sure that she has not quite done justice to her unquestionable talent.
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A volume entitled _Friends of France: The Field Service of the American Ambulance_ (SMITH, ELDER) has appeared in a happy hour to remind one, if that were necessary, that in the great nation that awaits Mr. WILSON'S call there have always been found some eager to give their services and, if need be, life itself to prove their love for the other great Republic. I don't think either you or I will grudge such an affection at this date, founded historically though it may be on a mutual dislike of ourselves, and consequently it is a very pleasant impression that is produced by this record of American efficiency and courage in Red Cross work on the French front. This being clearly remembered one need not be afraid to admit that in detail the book will be of interest mainly to the friends of those concerned, since the method of multiple authorship adopted necessarily involves overlapping, and a good deal of the volume is given up to monotonous, though undoubtedly well-earned, "tributes and citations" from the French authorities. Neither is the bulk of the matter, most generously illustrated though it is, particularly intriguing, for by now one is sufficiently familiar with accounts of the removal of wounded under fire and the sort of work at which these four hundred American University men proved themselves so adept at half-a-dozen points between Flanders and Alsace. Americans, long at odds with "ruthlessness" (and at last forced to the inevitable logical conclusion in regard to it), may well be glad to be able to point, amongst other creditable things, to this history of service given without hesitation in acknowledgment of their debt to the civilisation of the Old World; and we also shall be no less glad to remember it.
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It is perhaps natural that in _Winnowed Memories_ (CASSELL), by Field-Marshal Sir EVELYN WOOD, V.C., one should look at first to see what references they contain to modern events. On these matters, as on all others covered by this volume, we are told nothing that is not invigorating and to the point, and the tributes here paid to the fighting qualities of our armies of to-day form a fitting conclusion to a book that is full of sound sense and good cheer. Sir EVELYN has had a vast experience and enjoys an evergreen vigour. What is rarer still, he has a kindly nature that admits no trace of the disappointments he must from time to time have suffered. As everyone knows, he was always an advocate of Compulsory Universal Service for Home Defence, but he casts no stone at those who so long and parlously delayed to learn their lesson. Like the true soldier that he is, he seems to have no time or taste for those recriminations which are best left to small political fry. And I rejoice that in a book of such authority the note is largely one of happiness and hope.
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"Owing to congestion on the railways there is a food shortage in Petrograd, which has led some of the less irresponsible citizens to demonstrate during the session of the Council of the Empire and the Duma."--_Daily Sketch._
Subsequent news shows that "less irresponsible" was not a misprint but a prophecy.
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[Illustration: _Sympathetic Newsboy (to proprietor of Coffee Stall.)_ "WOT YER TRYIN' TO DO WIV THE OLD 'OTEL, GUVNER? TAKIN' IT 'OME FOR FEAR OF 'AVIN' IT COMMANDEERED?"]
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"It is claimed that about thirty Merman firms construct the Diesel motors originally used for submarines."--_Daily Telegraph._
We wish these motors a speedy return to the fishy scenes of their origin.
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"Several eligible sires for workmen's dwellings, of which some 300 are needed, have been selected by the Southport Town Planning Committee."--_Daily Paper._
They must not be confused with "the rude forefathers of the hamlet" mentioned by GRAY.