Impressions of the Theatre

THE CONTRIBUTORS’ CLUB.

I WENT to see a play, the other night, which originated in New York, and which has been immensely popular not only there, but also in the “provinces,” as the New York critics say when they mean little towns like Boston, Philadelphia, and Chicago. It struck me as being exceedingly fin de siècle; as being, in fact, the very rag-and-tag end of theatrical endeavor ; as the sort of thing which would appeal to a community that had become — in the polite language of our English cousins—“rotten before they were ripe.” Its worst feature was that it showed a very considerable expenditure of pains, of money, and even of talent upon most unworthy objects. Many of the audience, perhaps most of them, must have been NewEnglaud-bred people, — people whose ancestors never went to the theatre, and who, if they had gone at all, would have sought out a tragedy, or if not that, then a good, roaring, wholesome farce. But this play seemed to be designed for an audience who had left their intellects and their hearts at home. What it should be called I do not know, but it consisted chiefly of practical jokes, of songs and dances, of spectacular scenes, and of evolutions by a chorus and a large body of “ supes.” But what struck me most in the affair was the recitations, half sung, half spoken, of a young woman dressed as a girl of twelve or fourteen. She wore a rather short gown, an apron bedecked with ribbons, a wig with a “bang” to it, and she carried in her hand a large flat hat trimmed with flowers. This hat she twirled and waved with great effect, and with no little grace. Her rôle was that of a kind of feminine gamin, and her songs were very knowing and cynical. Every attitude was full of art, — awkward like that of a half-grown girl, but still not ungracefully awkward. Her enunciation, whether she spoke or sang, was perfect, — clear and well defined. When she came to the word “ maiden,” for example, the two syllables “ mai-den ” must have dropped like pearls in the remotest corner of the upper gallery. In fact, her whole performance showed long and careful training, besides some real talent to start with, and a strong sense of humor. And from the money point of view, the pains bestowed upon this young, this feminine Mephistopheles had not been thrown away. The audience, a representative, tax-paying, respectable audience, laughed and applauded, and took her wickedest jokes with a relish. One of her songs was a distinctly modern version of that familiar pastoral, “ Where are you going, my pretty maid ? ” In this case the maid was a New York young person, thoroughly “ fly,” and the proposal addressed to her was one of marriage, or something remotely of that nature. Her answer to it, far from being an indignant rejection, took the form of an inquiry as to the financial status of her admirer, and was expressed as follows : —

The cynical frankness with which this line was delivered, and the wink by which it was accompanied, were portentous. That wink expressed all the accumulated wisdom and experience of the gutter. And this weird young person, half gamin, half girl, old beyond her years, shrewd, good humored, unprincipled, and mercenary, might stand as a type of that fin de siècle civilization which produced and applauded the play of which she formed a part.