Press Clippings for the week ending
Saturday, 11 October 2003

A random selection of cuttings
from newspapers and magazines

Miss Hale, Pio Whatkins, Harriet Coveney et al at Deacon's music hall, London, November 1864

Harriet Coveney (1827-1892),
English burlesque actress and serio-comic singer

(photo: The London Stereoscopic & Photographic Co, London, circa 1865)

'Deacon's. – This Hall continues to prosper, and to be filled with quite as devout listeners as usual. Sentiment is properly cared for, and confided to the care of (among others) Miss Hale, who sings "How sweet 'tis to wander" with great applause. At this end of the town there is a J.G. Forde, who delights the public with plaintive songs, and, with Miss Hale, sings a duet from Il Trovatore, and an English version of "Parigi, O cara," from La Traviata. Pio Whatkins, the Indian juggler, performs some astonishing feats with brass rings, connecting and disconnecting them in a remarkable manner. His performance concludes with keeping three lighted torches in the air at the same time. Miss Harriet Coveney is a great favourite as a serio-comic singer. She gives the history of "Hikeypikeyhokypokychoo, who had a very large estate somewhere in Timbuctoo," and afterwards sings "The Dashing White Sergeant." A character personation called "Mrs. Gossip" is also one very successful effort of this vocalist. The remaining well-known and highly efficient members of this company still appear in their several turns, and help to swell the attractions of the evening.' (The Era, London, Sunday, 13 November 1864, p.11c) * * * * * * * * Henri de Vries in A Case of Arson, London, 1905

'By a clever move the examining magistrate extorts from John Arend an acknowledgement of his guilt.'

A scene from A Case of Arson with, left, Henry Vibart as the Magistrate
and Henri de Vries as John Arend the cigar manufacturer.

In A Case of Arson (Royalty Theatre, London, 11 February 1905),
Henri de Vries, a Dutch actor, played seven characters, including a police-sergeant,
a prisoner and the latter's aged father-in-law and idiot brother.

(photo: Bassano, London, 1905)

'Should an actor be versatile? Should he, in order to uphold his right to be called an actor, be able to adapt himself to any part, be able to succeed as well in tragedy as in farce, be as acceptable in Othello as in The Private Secretary? The ideal actor would be able to bring his skill to any rôle in such a manner as to sink his personality entirely in the character he is seeking to interpret. His tragic acting would no more reveal his own personality than his comedy playing. Each would be a separate and distinct piece of work, complete in itself, independent, and neither would be mutually reminiscent. 'But the ideal actor does not exist, and, considering the limitations of human ability, it is doubtful if he has ever been seen by any one. For it is the tendency in every advance towards perfection to specialize. In economics one calls it division of labour; in the sphere of acting we are accustomed to label an actor either a tragedian or comedian or a character-actor. If he is not one, he must be another, for he cannot be all three; so popular opinion allows. Not infrequently, however, the poor player is neither of the three when he comes to be proved, but merely a shrewd business man who happens to lease a West-End [of London] theatre [i.e. an actor-manager] and to occupy the centre of the stage and the chief attention of the limelight in all the most dramatic situations. But if he has shown any talent in one branch of acting, his popularity will rise or fall only according as he plays such parts in the future. It is not always the fault of the actor that he must for ever specialise. Personal talent counts for something, physical appearance counts for more; but it is public opinion which counts for nearly all. He who has paid to come in by the box-office has a right to select the playing. 'But to those who are not above learning something more of their art, the wonderful acting of Mr. Henri de Vries at the Royalty Theatre must come as a spray of water to a parched lawn. "I wish all our English actors, both great and small, were her to watch de Vries," I overheard a well-known playwright remark. The play A Case of Arson, in subject-matter and treatment similar to La Robe Rouge, which was given at the Garrick Theatre [London, 16 February 1904] as The Arm of the Law, and which was referred to in these columns a year ago. Before the examining magistrate is brought John Arend, a cigar manufacturer. There has been a fire at Arend's manufactory. There is something mysterious and difficult to explain in connection with the outbreak. Unfortunately, Arend's infant daughter happened to be in the factory at the time of the outbreak, and was burned to death. 'The legal procedure is impressive, the examining of the magistrate searching and irresistible. Seven witnesses are called, each distinct in character, appearance, manner, and voice. Mr. Henri de Vries played each in English without betraying either his own nationality or his personality. Here, as nearly as possible, is the ideal actor. He plays the sad, sorrow-stricken manufacturer, who has lots his child, and his money. He next appears as the idiot bother, one of the most wonderful examples of acting ever seen in England. The illustration on another page [see below] will indicate the make-up for this part. There is in the idiot's voice something of the melancholy and morose, in his eyes a vacant stare, in his hands a twitching and a restlessness. The cigar manufacturer's father-in-law comes next. Old, infirm, deaf, and a trifle garrulous, he undergoes his examination as the others. As a violent contrast, the police-sergeant follows with his heavy tread and military bearing. 'An affable and corpulent inn-keeper, a fussy and sycophant little grocer, and a none too respectful house-painter come before the magistrate in turn. Finally, the cigar manufacturer is brought in again. The magistrate's skill is too powerful for him, and he is finally compelled to admit that he is himself the cause of the fire. The acting of Mr. de Vries, like the construction of the play itself, has been growing gradually stronger and more powerful. There has been tragedy and comedy, and farce and sentiment. Now at last the cigar manufacturer breaks out into a fury. Quiet and subdued he becomes again at the awful thought of the death of his little daughter, mortified at the prospect of the prison cell. He is led away into custody. Last of all is introduced the miserable idiot, who vainly tries to shield his brother by taking the blame on himself. The play, by Mr. Herman Hyermans [adapted by Howard Peacey], would never become popular in this country. Its motif is too sand and heavy, but it is particularly suitable for this clever seven-part actor.' (E. Keble Chatterton, The Lady's Realm, London, April 1905, pp.666-673)

Henri de Vries as the idiot brother, Ansing Arend in
A Case of Arson, Royalty Theatre, London, 11 February 1905.

(photo: Bassano, London, 1905)

* * * * * * * * The Theatre Guild's production of Eugene O'Neill's Strange Interlude, Lyric Theatre, Shaftesbury Avenue, London, 3 February 1931

'Mary Ellis as Nina Leeds and Claudia Morgan as Madeline Arnold in the third act of
Eugene O'Neill's remarkable nine act play, in which the characters speak not only their
ordinary lines but also their real innermost thoughts.'

(photo: Vandamm, New York, circa 1930)

Eugene O'Neill's Strange Interlude, produced by Phillip Moeller at the Lyric Theatre, London, 3 February 1931. The play was first produced at the John Golden Theatre, New York, on 30 January 1928, with Lynne Fontanne as Nina Leeds. 'Eugene O'Neill has always been a sensationalist in the theatre, and now he manages, good journalist that he is, to extract his sensations from an ordinary dull and dowdy household. Not that Strange Interlude is one of the good old problem plays or domestic dramas. It is a play that gives you glimpses down the uncertain corridors of thought and feeling, from which the wild swirling of impulse and fantasy is echoes back in half-uttered cries – the much-discussed "asides" of the play – which can be heartrending, alarming and strangely beautiful. 'The play is a study of a woman whose lover is killed in the war and whose emotional life in consequence goes to pieces. In an orgy of self-abasement she lives cynically with any cripples soldiers who want her and marries a simple-minded fellow merely because he admired Gordon, her dead lover. 'Model husband as he is, he nevertheless cannot satisfy her. Nina must have a paternal friend, "dear old Charlie," and she must have a child by a doctor whose one determination, sensible man, is to avoid marrying her. Husband and lover and fatherly friend Nina must possess if she is to lay the ghost of her first lover. 'At last, as an old woman, Nina is able to project the "Gordon myth" into the person of her son, an ill-bred hooligan, who turns out as skilful an athlete and aviator as the dead hero. The ghost of Gordon is laid, the strange interlude is over. Nina has atoned for her youthful timidity, can forgive herself and can now marry the faithful Charlie who has waited so long for her. 'There are moments of real beauty and drama in this feverish sage. The scene where Nina learns from her dour mother-in-law of her husband's inherited insanity is particularly moving: equally so is Nina's selection of Doctor Darrell as the sanest and healthiest man to be the father of her child. There are also uninspired passages where the dialogue and the lengthy soliloquies reek of psychology text-books. 'But O'Neill's failure is the New York Theatre Guild's triumph. This distinguished company of actors had taken and mastered the huge bulk of dialogue and digression. Phillip Moeller's production moves without a jarring note and one can only appreciate his skill by considering the difficulties he has had to surmount. It is no easy task to stage four hours' solid drama of which the "entertainment value" is admittedly nil. 'Mary Ellis played the part of Nina with great vitality. It was a workmanlike performance rather than an inspiring one: one hardly got the impression of the romantic imagination and the mental agony to which Nina was a prey. But could such a tremendous rôle be perfectly played by any actress? Nina's "three men" were portrayed by Basil Sydney, Ralph Morgan and Donald Macdonald, and their combined performance could not in any way have been bettered. So far as particular praise is due, it should be given to Ralph Morgan for his delicate handling of the unenviable part of the self-tortured literary dilettante. 'Strange Interlude may not commend itself to the public taste for so long a run as "London's funniest farce," but it should be seen by everybody who has any self-respect as a playgoer.' (V.H.F., Theatre World, London, March 1931, pp.103c-104a) * * * * * * * *

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© John Culme, 2003