| 182A WORD WITH THE WOMEN
(By Ella W. Peattie)
For six weeks or more Mr. Paul Potters dramatization of "Trilby" has been running at Hooley's theater at Chicago, and has at every performance filled every seat in the house, and often crowded the standing room as well. No play put on the boards in the last decade has so won its way into the hearts of the people, just as no book within the same length of time has so fixed itself in the affections of the people as George Du Maurlers tale of the Latin Quartier. It is somewhat amusing to observe the class of people who throng the theater to witness this excellent performance of
a clever dramatization. They are of all classes in a way, to be sure, but the pre-
dominating element is of the sturdy, moral and punctilious middle class, who
have not the disregard for moral looseness which the richer in their ennul often possess, nor yet the indifference to social laws which the lower class sometimes adobts. Decidedly the audience at "Trilby" are composed of strictly moral
persons- persons who would, if asked, place the sanctity of the family above every other moral law, and who naturally, and by education, stand for respectability.
It is very evident that the pleadings of
the preachers, the objections of the
stupid, and the animadversions of the
envious have all alike failed to impress
the people with the idea that there
can be anything vicious in a redeemed soul,
or that it is social offense to climb on
[?] stones of one's dead self to bet-
ter things. Love which purifies, love
which sacrifices, love which uplifts the
spirit, though the sacrifice crushes the
body, cannot but appeal to the human
heart with eloquence. There is no gain-
saying its appeal. The preachers, the
dul and the envious may as well sub-
mit.
And, moreover, in the dramatization
referred to, the moral is, as it properly
should be, kept in its proper place, and
not allowed to dominate and hide the
mere charming narrative of the play. The
dramatization is one of the best ever
put on stage. It was done by a man
who has had a good deal of experience
in that line- by a man who knows the
value of a period- a man who has stud-
ied many stles of literary work, and
who understands as few do the strenght
of brevity. But in all his work he has
never done anything that approaches
"Trilby" for its power and beauty. It is
a masterpiece of condensation. It hum-
bly follows after Du Maurier, in only one
or two instances taking any liberty
whatever with the author, and in one of
these cases committing an offense
against art. This is in the manner in
which Svengli's portrait is conveyed to
Trilby. It will be remembered that in
the book it came by mail, "somewhere
out of the mysterious east," no one knew
from whom or from where. This was
impressive. potter has perceived taht
it was impressive, but as the need for
hastening the action of the play pre-
vented him from using the incident just
as it was, he has the letter brought by
one of the young Frenchmen, to whom
it was given in person by what appeared
to be the ghost of Svengali. Now, a ghost
will not down. It sticks in the throat,
Only Andrew Lang believes in ghosts.
We can believe in a mysterious thing for
which there is absolutely no attempt
at visibility. We can believe that a por-
trait may come from somewhere to
somewhere without or knowing the ex-
act means, and are fascinated by the
hint of mystery. But when it comes to
the ghost- well, ghosts, if you handle
'em are always made of your mothers
linen sheets.
However, that's an incident on the
whole, the dramatization of "Trilby" is
above criticism Svengali is the char-
acter of the play, of course, and Lack-
aye is tremendous in it. The whole caste
is good, well balanced, perfectly selected
physically speaking, and trained to a
high degree. The play has moved har-
moniously, and the people looked like
the artist-authors own representations.
Some day there will, perhaps, be a
greater and more magnetic "Trilby"-
one, maybe, who can sing the "Im-
promptu' for her swan song, and keep
the eyes of the audience off Svengali.
Now, that great hungry spider domin-
ates the stage as the baron de Cheveral
dominated "The Parisian Romance,"
with this difference, that Mansfield made
le baron, whereas Svengali made Lack-
aye. The latter actor talks of starting
next season, wherein he shows himself
foolish. But that's his own affair, of
course.
The public has tried in vain to vul-
garize "Trilby." It has named almost
every article of wearing apparel after
that beautiful wash woman, it has
called cold drinks after her, and even a
yeast powder, not to mention articles
of jewelry and canes. But it cannot suc-
ceed in making it cheap. And, indeed,
after most persons have forgotten all
about the book and the play, and the
sweet ideal fo purity won out of a stain,
the book, for purely artistic reasons, will
hold its place of honor on the shelves of
those who choose their books with dis-
crimination. In short, the artists will re-
member "Trilby" after the common herd
has forgotten it, and after the persons
who cannot read that or any other book
understandingly have ceased their
weary and ignorant chatter. | 182A WORD
WITH THE WOMEN
(By Ella W. Peattie)
For six weeks or more Mr. Paul Pot-
ters dramatization of "Trilby" has been
running at Hooley's theater at Chicago,
and has at every performance filled
every seat in the house, and often
crowded the standing room as well. No
play put on the boards in the last de-
cade has so won its way into the hearts
of the people, just as no book within the
same length of time has so fixed itself in
the affections of the people as George
Du Maurlers tale of the Latin Quartier.
It is somewhat amusing to observe the
class of people who throng the theater
to witness this excellent performance of
a clever dramatization. They are of all
classes in a way, to be sure, but the pre-
dominating element is of the sturdy,
moral and punctilious middle class, who
have not the disregard for moral loose-
ness which the richer in their ennul often
possess, nor yet the indifference to social
laws which the lower class sometimes
adobts. Decidedly the audience at
"Trilby" are composed of strictly moral
persons- persons who would, if asked,
place the sanctity of the family above
every other moral law, and who nat-
urally, and by education, stand for re-
spectability.
It is very evident that the pleadings of
the preachers, the objections of the
stupid, and the animadversions of the
envious have all alike failed to impress
the people with the idea that there
can be anything vicious in a redeemed soul,
or that it is social offense to climb on
[?] stones of one's dead self to bet-
ter things. Love which purifies, love
which sacrifices, love which uplifts the
spirit, though the sacrifice crushes the
body, cannot but appeal to the human
heart with eloquence. There is no gain-
saying its appeal. The preachers, the
dul and the envious may as well sub-
mit.
And, moreover, in the dramatization
referred to, the moral is, as it properly
should be, kept in its proper place, and
not allowed to dominate and hide the
mere charming narrative of the play. The
dramatization is one of the best ever
put on stage. It was done by a man
who has had a good deal of experience
in that line- by a man who knows the
value of a period- a man who has stud-
ied many stles of literary work, and
who understands as few do the strenght
of brevity. But in all his work he has
never done anything that approaches
"Trilby" for its power and beauty. It is
a masterpiece of condensation. It hum-
bly follows after Du Maurier, in only one
or two instances taking any liberty
whatever with the author, and in one of
these cases committing an offense
against art. This is in the manner in
which Svengli's portrait is conveyed to
Trilby. It will be remembered that in
the book it came by mail, "somewhere
out of the mysterious east," no one knew
from whom or from where. This was
impressive. potter has perceived taht
it was impressive, but as the need for
hastening the action of the play pre-
vented him from using the incident just
as it was, he has the letter brought by
one of the young Frenchmen, to whom
it was given in person by what appeared
to be the ghost of Svengali. Now, a ghost
will not down. It sticks in the throat,
Only Andrew Lang believes in ghosts.
We can believe in a mysterious thing for
which there is absolutely no attempt
at visibility. We can believe that a por-
trait may come from somewhere to
somewhere without or knowing the ex-
act means, and are fascinated by the
hint of mystery. But when it comes to
the ghost- well, ghosts, if you handle
'em are always made of your mothers
linen sheets.
However, that's an incident on the
whole, the dramatization of "Trilby" is
above criticism Svengali is the char-
acter of the play, of course, and Lack-
aye is tremendous in it. The whole caste
is good, well balanced, perfectly selected
physically speaking, and trained to a
high degree. The play has moved har-
moniously, and the people looked like
the artist-authors own representations.
Some day there will, perhaps, be a
greater and more magnetic "Trilby"-
one, maybe, who can sing the "Im-
promptu' for her swan song, and keep
the eyes of the audience off Svengali.
Now, that great hungry spider domin-
ates the stage as the baron de Cheveral
dominated "The Parisian Romance,"
with this difference, that Mansfield made
le baron, whereas Svengali made Lack-
aye. The latter actor talks of starting
next season, wherein he shows himself
foolish. But that's his own affair, of
course.
The public has tried in vain to vul-
garize "Trilby." It has named almost
every article of wearing apparel after
that beautiful wash woman, it has
called cold drinks after her, and even a
yeast powder, not to mention articles
of jewelry and canes. But it cannot suc-
ceed in making it cheap. And, indeed,
after most persons have forgotten all
about the book and the play, and the
sweet ideal fo purity won out of a stain,
the book, for purely artistic reasons, will
hold its place of honor on the shelves of
those who choose their books with dis-
crimination. In short, the artists will re-
member "Trilby" after the common herd
has forgotten it, and after the persons
who cannot read that or any other book
understandingly have ceased their
weary and ignorant chatter. |
