The Story of the Play by H. V. M.
Up in the boughs of an old oak tree Lady Patricia Cosway had a platform built for her. At one end of this stood a little thatched summer-house. Cushions of delicate hues, easy chairs, and a table spoke of languor, coolness, and ease. All around could be seen the tree-tops, the blue sky peeping through the branches, while the incessant twitter of the birds carried the mind above the earth to their own domains. The retreat was alone with nature.
Here in the warm summer afternoons Lady Patricia was wont to sit, robed in a dress of shimmering gold, reading poetry, sighing to the clouds, communing with Nature. In the evenings she would recline in her chair, listen to the nightingales, and quote Swinburne to the stars, while the Chinese lanterns hanging from the branches went out as regularly as Chinese lanterns do. It was late in the afternoon of a beautiful day in May, a warm, bright, sunny day such as the octogenarians speak of, when Lady Patricia discovered that life for her was still more beautiful than ever. The scent of the flowers was sweeter, the stars twinkled more brightly at night, and the nightingales nightingaled with a softer trill.
Lady Patricia was in love. Her husband was one of the best fellows in the world. He, too, lived with the stars, and the brightest of them all was Lady Patricia. But he was not the cause of Lady Patricia's newly-found happiness. She liked him well enough, but he didn't make the stars twinkle more brightly for her. Oh, no! She loved another. And the other was her young cousin, William O'Farrel. The O'Farrels - Mrs. O'Farrel and her son - had taken a house adjoining the country seat of the Cosways, and she had grown to love William because he was so young and strong. He had nothing in common with her. Poetry really bored him because he didn't understand it, but he had a three-cornered idea that Patricia wrote ripping verses. He told her that it Was corking to hear her recite them.
Their love was platonic. She was married, he was to be engaged to Clare, the daughter of Dean Lesley. She thought their love was beautiful - too beautiful, indeed, to let her husband know of it. He was attracted, like the time-honoured moth, but her flame did not singe his wings. She kept him fluttering. As for the husband, Michael Cosway, he suddenly discovered that Clare Lesley had brightened his world. Clare enjoyed his worship. They regarded it as a kindness to Lady Patricia to keep their secret to themselves.
So things went on, each couple happy in their secret love. But it must not be supposed that they were unhappy apart. Lady Patricia and her husband were deeply in love with one another. For the one to have confessed otherwise would have meant death from a broken heart to the listener. william and Clare were in the same position. This romantic state of affairs might have gone on indefinitely had not a touch of the realistic, the sordid materialism of practicability put in an appearance in the person of Mrs. O'Farrel.
There were no flies on william's mother! Once her suspicions had been aroused by a few hints from the Dean as to her son's attentions to Lady Patricia, the platonic love of the parties came to an abrupt end. It happened like this. The Cosways had invited the Dean and his daughter and Mrs. O'Farrel and william to spend the evening with them. The lanterns in the oak tree were lighted, and Baldwin, the old gardener, was told off to look after them. The endeavours of the husband to evade the wife and find the young engaged girl, and the efforts of the wife to evade the husband and find the young engaged man, led poor old Baldwin to think they were all playing hide-and-seek. The constant meetings and disappearances on the platform in the oak tree aroused other suspicions, and Mrs. O'Farrel and the Dean retired to the summer-house to watch and listen unobserved. What they saw and what they heard opened two pairs of eyes very wide.
It was undoubtedly the duty of the Dean to make a few remarks when the company at last assembled, and he did not shrink from his duty. Making himself perfectly clear on the subject, he and his daughter left for the Deanery. He expressed the hope that they would attend at the cathedral for morning service on the morrow when he had to say a few words of importance.
Lady Patricia felt her position acutely, as also did her husband, but neither knew of the other's indiscretions. Next morning, when the Dean was having his breakfast in the garden - one of those delightful breakfasts we never get - Clare came out and demanded an apology from her father for spying upon her. He forbade her ever to see William O'Farrel again. Being a natural daughter, she went off immediately to see him, which was just what the Dean wanted. He knew well that the surest way to make a woman do a certain thing was to forbid her to do it.
Then Mrs. O'Farrel called. Her suggestion was to persuade Patricia to confess to her husband. Lady Patricia was announced, and she, too, came into the garden. Mrs. O'Farrel told her that if she did not confess to her husband she would tell him herself, and, rather than that, Patricia promised to do so. She confessed to the Dean that she had done wrong. She drank a cup of milk and felt stronger for it. She could see that her future life would be still more beautiful than ever, her soul would be ------.
Michael Cosway was announced! He was very surprised to find, Lady Patricia so early in the Deanery garden. He asked the Dean in a whisper whether he had told Patricia anything, but the Dean merely waved him on one side. Taking no notice of Mrs. O'Farrel, Michael moved towards his wife. "You look so white and strange, dearest," he said. "Are you ill?" This was the tone Patricia wanted him to adopt. It was so much easier to confess to one who already had forgiven in his heart. She played the part of the injured innocent, pleading thirst and a cup of milk. Michael was greatly perturbed. He went to the table and poured out a cupful. Patricia winced; it was boiled. Falling to his knees, Michael took the cup from her shaking hands, but she compelled him to rise. He was not to kneel to her. She was unworthy, a broken woman.
Then Michael let the cat out of the bag. He promised to devote the rest of his life to her, every hour, every moment, should be given to making up for his sin. "Your sin?" queried Lady Patricia. Then Michael, thinking that the Dean and Mrs. O'Farrel had told Patricia what they had overheard in the summer-house the night before, poured forth his explanations. He confessed that he had loved elsewhere, or thought he had, but that he had concealed that fact from her because he knew it would kill her if she knew, and ---"
"What are you talking ,about?" broke in Patricia. It was then her turn to be offended. After all she had gone through! How she had fought to keep down the one great passion of her life - her love for Bill 0'Farrel! Michael was more astonished than ever. His wife - in love with Bill - Bill O'Farrel-oh! impossible! He knew where to find love. He would go to Clare.
There they stood. She would go to Bill; he to Clare! But something happened. Bill and Clare came into the garden. They had something important to say. They were engaged! Neither Michael nor Patricia wished to hear anything more. Bill and Clare went off to tell the Dean. Michael and his wife were left staring into vacancy.
Mrs, O'Farrel and the Dean came out of the house. They congratulated themselves upon what they had done. The Dean suggested that Lady Patricia and her husband should join them in the church. "Under the great rose-window," said Lady Patricia. "Our pew is now full of purple and amber lights and shafts of chrysoprase. Shall we not sit there again together? Repentance is very exquisite, and how beautiful is forgiveness!" Michael Cosway looked into her half-closed eyes. and acquiesced. Nothing else was to be done. They both saw the foolishness of it and followed the others out of the garden into the cathedral, happy once again.
By John Wightman
MR. RUDOLF BESIER - Born in Java thirty-three years ago; was educated in Guernsey and Germany. On leaving Heidelberg University he came to London, and at the age of nineteen found himself in the whirl of modern journalism. Five years ago, Mr. C. Arthur Pearson, on whose journals he was working, sent him to America. When in New. York and Buffalo the young author occupied his spare time by starting, and more than half completing, his first play, "The Virgin Goddess," which he finished soon after returning to England. Mr. Otho Stuart's cultured management was then in full swing at the Adelphi, and as such a work naturally appealed to him it was accepted. I well remember the sensation its production caused. Everyone wished to know who the author was of a play which breathed forth high ideals, lofty thoughts, and pulsated with dramatic power. The flow of language, the sure, firm, literary touch, proved conclusively that in Rudolf Besier the army of playwrights had found a scholarly and thoughtful recruit. Two years later his second play, "Olive Latimer's Husband," was produced at the Vaudeville, and although, like his first, it had not a particularly long run, "Don," which followed in the autumn of 1909, was an unqualified success. Notwithstanding it occupied three different theatres, it ran for six months, in spite of an extremely frigid Press reception.
During our last chat Mr. Besier gave me a slight idea as to how he evolves his plays. "It is," he remarked, "on their construction that I spend an immense amount of time and labour. The actual writing does not trouble me much. My idea when composing my first three plays was to make their action as simple as possible, to make one episode, and only one, the whole theme of the play, eliminating everything not bearing directly on the story. To gain this simplicity I took the Greek dramatists as my models in construction, and as strictly as was possible observed these methods. This naturally entailed a vast amount of casting and recasting before I was able to put my pen to paper. In "Lady Patricia," however, I have deliberately departed from my earlier methods. In this play I am satirising the artificialities of life, and it seemed to me that the naturalness, directness and restraint of classic construction with such a theme would be artistically incorrect. So I went to work and built the play on old French comedy lines, making its construction as humourously artificial as its characters. To my great joy and surprise some of the leading critics grasped my idea, while others blamed me for what they designated a machine-made play, little knowing the difficulty I had to get this very mechanical quality into it."
Such is the modest statement of the writer of "Lady Patricia," a light comedy which, on account of its sparkling wit, marvellous characterisation and rippling dialogue, may easily become a classic with the next generation of playgoers.
MRS. PATRICK CAMPBELL - This celebrated actress, with her alluring personality and fine dramatic gifts, is more or less of a mystery to the theatre-going public apart from the stage. Born in London, her parentage on one side at least - for her mother was Italian - possesscd that touch of foreign blood which usually means dramatic temperament. As a girl she was educated at Brighton and London, gaining a scholarship at the Guildhall School of Music which entitled her to three years tuition in Leipsic. But the gods willed otherwise, for her romantic marriage when only seventeen stepped in the way. A few years later she commenced playing in amateur theatricals at Norwood, and soon discovered her metier was the stage. In November, 188B, at Liverpool, she made her professional debut as Sophia in "Bachelors," tours with Ben Greet followed, and after several minor London engagements she came into prominence by creating the title role in Pinero's remarkable play, "The Second Mrs. Tanqueray." The impassioned subtlety of her acting, combined with her exquisite charm, called forth unstinted praise from the public and the Press. As a Manageress she took over the Prince of Wales Theatre, where, with Forbes-Robertson, she staged "The Moonlight Blossom" and "The Sacrament of Judas." Neither was a success financially, but little daunted she secured a lease of the Royalty, where her regime was marked by high artistic distinction. One of her most notable achievements was in 1904 when she appeared with Sarah Bernhardt in a series of matinees in French of "Pelleas and Melisande," which were repeated a year later, not only in town but throughout England, Ireland and Scotland. When Sir Herbert Tree gave us that poetic spectacle, "False Gods," he chose Mrs. Patrick Camphell to play the part of blind Meiris. It was a beautiful study, full of pathos as she cried, "Oh! give me some other lie in place of the one they have taken from me." As Lady Patricia she is superb. With irresistible gaiety she imparts just the right touch to a character which in the future will, with "The Second Mrs. Tanqueray," always be associated with the name of Mrs. Patrick Campbell.
MISS ROSINA FILIPPI - The British stage owes a deep debt of gratitude to Miss Rosina Filippi, for, apart from the high artistic value of her own work, she has for years given of her best to the training and encouragement of the young dramatic student. Born in Venice when her father was a musical critic, she eventually came to London. Here she studied for two years with the late Hermann Vezin. Her first professional engagement was with F. R. Benson, afterwards joining Sir Herbert Tree at the Haymarket for his production of "The Red Lamp." Several newspapcr paragraphs have recently appeared with regard to Miss Filippi's proposed scheme for what I would term a School Theatre. "My idea," she says, "requires capital, and until that is forthcoming I do not feel justified in sacrificing my time and jeopardising the scheme by any half-and-half attempt. Roughly speaking, the scheme involves the taking of a theatre, for which I already have a thoroughly sound company of thirty-five, all young, all intensely enthusiastic, many of them at the present time playing small parts in London and the provinces. In connection with this theatre would be run a dramatic class. The pieces produced would mostly be revivals of Shakespearean drama, old English comedies, etc., and my prices would be exactly half now charged, the gallery being reserved for the students. All the work in the theatre would be tackled by the students, from selling programmes to scene-shifting, the only exception being extra heavy or rough stage carpentry work. However, my dream is still a dream, although quite likely to become real in the near future. When it does I will require a theatre of my own, so kindly contradict the recent rumour that I intended using the Little Theatre for this purpose."
MR. CHARLES MAUDE - Had Mr. Charles Maude not settled on the stage as a profession he might have made quite a name for himself as a musician. There is nothing surprising in this, for he comes of a musical stock, his grandparents being Otto Goldschmidt, the pianist, and Jenny Lind, the famous singer. Educated at Oxford, he appeared with the O.V.D.S. as Orlando in "As You Like It" and Duke Orsino in "Twelfth Night." Then he started with Arthur Bourchier at the Garrick by walking on in "The Walls of Jericho," A notable performance of his lately was in "The Fires of Fate," and he has enhanced his reputation considerably by his natural boyish acting as Bill O'Farrel in this piece. His favourite composer is Tschaikovsky, and, given plenty of cigarettes and a sympathetic piano, he will keep you entertained for hours, provided he has not a golf match on hand.
MR. ARTHUR WONTNER - Mr. Arthur Wontner as the stolid husband, Michael Cosway, gives a rich study of massive stolidity. This rising young actor went through the usual grind of touring until the production of "An Englishman's Home" brought him right to the front. Mr. Wontner's acting in this was full of passion and fire, so it was not surprising when "Idols" was produced at the Garrick to find him engaged by Miss Evelyn Millard. Of a quiet, retiring disposition, his favourite hobby, apart from his work, is the reflective occupation of gardening.
MR. C. V. FRANCE - Commencing business in the north of England as an electrical engineer, it was at Rochdale he first made his bow to the public as a character actor. He soon made a reputation for versatility, and splendid character studies followed in pieces like "The Dovecot," "The Wild Rabbit," etc. During 1913 he toured with his own company, afterwards joining Arthur Bourchier at the Garrick. A masterly impersonation as Pierre in "Les Hannetons" aroused universal approbation. This character, he admits, is his favourite. His old gardener, Baldwin, in the present production, is full of pawky humour.
SCENES FROM THE PLAY
