THE THEATRE.
"THE YOUNG VISITERS " AT THE COURT THEATRE. I HAVE little sympathy for the critic who went to see The Young Visiters and complained that ho (being among those who had
not read the book) felt as though in the presence of an unex- plained family joke. He did not complain that it was not funny, only that it was a family joke. Now this is a very dan- gerous theory; in fact, as "Mr. Salteena" would say, it is "the thin end of the partition." Sympathize with that critic and
you will soon find that you are admitting that Twelfth Night and The Master Builder are worthless because these plays were not quite understood by the Ambassador Extraordinary
from the Hairy Ainus and a well-known merchant from Bangkok
at present on a visit to these shores. This is a broad and a pleasant road, but it leads to dumb-show. The critic should
have read the book ; it was the sacrifice that his high calling demanded. He could even have bought it at the box-office and read it between the acts. And here the auditor has perhaps a legitimate grievance against Miss Edyth Goodall's production.
The entr'actes afford too much time for reading. The play consequently suffers from seeming spun out. There should
surely have been, not perhaps a triple bill, but at any rate a one-act play first and no waits. The thread of the play is too slender to bear stretching.
But when this is said the auditor will probably have done with blame. Nothing of the delightful pretentious solemnity of the book has been lost, and the scenery more than compensates for the spelling. The two thrilling cab-drives and the exhilarating railway journey, in which (as in Parsifal) it is the scenery that moves, are revelations. The most surprising thing about them is perhaps that cabs and train—in spite of their careful grotesque- ness—succeed in producing a real sense of " the open road," and are quite convincing enough for " straight " comedy.
The actors were all perfectly, divinely grave, and the three exquisites, Bernard Clark," Procurio," and " The Earl of Clincham," were inimitably funny. " Bernard Clark," the romantic, indeed outstripped my fondest expectations. " Ethel Monticue " would have shone in a less brilliant company, but- compared, for example, with the consistency of " Mr. Salteena's " nervous flurry, or the impassivity of " Minnit " the butler, her acting seemed to lack spontaneity and resource.
The whole play serves to illustrate the charm of the fantastic.
There is no doubt that in The Young Visiters we have got a very fine brand of Vintage Nonsense. But there is no need for this
sort of nonsense to be written by chance in a dumpy note-book by a cynical little girl of nine. We can imagine such a play touched by the much more innocent and not less imaginative
band of, say, Mr. De La Mare. The Young Visiters opens up a vista of theatrical possibilities. If a school of fantastic plays arises, I wish them just such producers and just such a cast as are to be seen in the present production at the Court.
TARN.
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