THE THEATRE.
"THE SKIN GAME," BY JOHN GALSWORTHY, ST. MARTIN'S THEATRE.
Rusum called the human race a heap of agonising maggots, and it is upon this tart that Mr. Galsworthy has preached in The Skin Game. The story concerns a struggle which begins with a question of rural amenities and the building of factories on fine, well-timbered meadowland, of which there is a view from the manor-house windows. It ends with the attempted suicide of a young woman whose past the Squire's wife rakes up in defence of her own acres. Before the curtain falls every member of both the Squire's and the manufacturer's families has been made. completely and diversely miserable, and the memory of the worth of the game has long been lost in the horrible expendi- ture of candle.
Mr. Galsworthy's work is always interesting, but there is often In his plays a certain metallic quality. It is not that we hear the clank of dramatic machinery, for he is far too accomplished a writer for that. It is not that the characters themselves are exactly hard. Hillcrist, the Squire, and Jill, his daughter, in the present play are both charming, as is poor Chloe, the woman with the disreputable past. The metallicism is much more elusive than that. Perhaps the effect in this play is produced to a certain extent by the very strict preservation of one of the unities—the unity of theme. Apart from their quarrel, we do not feel that either the manufacturing family or the landed family exists. They are, as it were, literary manikins, who show off the cloak of hypocrisy or the eye-bandage of justice with extraordinary efficiency. For there is no doubt about that; the play is efficient. Further, there is no doubt about its being an admirable tract for the times. It is so easy to be in the right, so difficult to suppress the natural combativeness of man ; but so rarely is this combativeness justified. When we wrestle well we nearly always, in the words of Rosalind, "over- throw more than our enemies," but not in the pretty sense in which she used the words.
As to the production of the play at St. Martin's, it trans- formed what might have been a rather gloomy, earnest tract into a most exciting if melodramatic play. The extremely competent and vigorous cast "took hold of" the play from the very first moment and brought out every point of dramatic interest. The most successful scene was the auction of the meadowlands which overlooked the Squire's windows. It was intensely and delightfully exciting. Mr. Basil Dean, or whoever is responsible, must be strongly congratulated on his feat of doing without a " stage crowd "of bidders. These are imaginary, and the auctioneer talks directly to the audience without the tiresome interposition of an elaborate bustle of conscientiously gesticulating supers. (I trust that the next producer of Julius Caesar will take notice.) Miss Helen Hoye gave a faultless rendering of Mrs. Hillcrist, the hard, unpleasant wife of the Squire. Her admirable economy of gesture and the great precision with which she " conceives " her parts make her one of the most finished of actresses, though they probably do not help to give her immediate success with individual audiences. Only less good, because less fully realized, are Mr. Stewart as Hillcrist and Miss Albanesi as Jill. In easier, because broader, parts Mr. Edmund Gwenn as the old manufacturer, . and Miss Mary Clare as the "wild woman," his daughter-in-law, are both most efficient. The rest of the cast does excellent team work in their support.
But some day I shall found a Society for the Abolition of Stage Butlers and Ladies' Maids, and those who have seen The Skin Game will know why. I imply no criticism of Mr. Marston Corals and Miss Mary Byron, who have to play these particularly unfortunate parts.
The final curtain leaves one talking hard about the characters, and that, to my mind, is the very best recommendation for a
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