Theatre
Time Out of Joint
j•‘ BEIUMLEY SQUARE." By JOIIN B. BALDERSTON.
. • ST. MARTIN'S.]
Tin: faithful chronicler will, one hopes, record to posterity that amongst the minor outstanding episodes of the Great War none was more amazing than the sudden cult, as it seemed, of the late Henry James: This cult of the most
difficult" novelist since Meredith was by no.means confined to literary circles, where all things arc possible at all times ; it spread even to the. Army at the front. Well do I remember a certain colonel of my acquaintance who was caught in the toils. " I suppose I ought to read some of this fellow James," he said to me one day, and read the fellow he did, with disastrous results. Let me be honest and admit that the worthy colonel's confusion at coming into contact for the first time with that involved and intricate and Pirandellish mind was no greater than my own bad been. .
Berkeley Square is founded on Henry James's unfinished novel, A Sense of the Past. The work of dramatizing the outline of the story has been brilliantly carried out by Mr. „John B. Balderston, a distinguished American journalist resident in London. It must have been primarily undertaken, I imagine, as a labour of love. There is little to attract the popular taste in Berkeley Square, but Mr. Balderston can at least have this satisfaction. He has written just the kind of polished, complicated play that Henry James (who, like many successful novelists, wanted to be a successful dramatist too but showed no signs of becoming one) would have loved :to . evolve, and he has produced a. pattern of singular beauty. A pattern, observe, rather than a coherent piece of drama. That well-known poet and critic, Mr. J. C. Squire,' appears to have had a hand in all this. How much or - how little the programme leaves obscure. Does this mean that Mr. Squire,' whose fancy it was -not long ago to speak lightly of the theatre as." mummery " is about to turn his energy in the direction of the stage ? Well, we can do with him, and here he is, for a start, called in, presumably, a, an eighteenth-century expert, perhaps on the assumption that being one of " the chivalry of Chiswick " (so Mr. Herbert mocks in Riverside Nights) he is one of those responsible for making Hammersmith what it is to-day, namely, the theatrical home of the -eighteenth century !
It were easy (but foolish) to describe this queer play quite crudely in the following terms. -A young American, with a taste for England and the English of the eighteenth century, takes a house in Berkeley Square in this year of grace 1926. His ancestor's portrait by Gainsborough hangs in the library. He dreams that he is back in the eighteenth century, and finds (of course, in the last act) that it is not so.- Thus, Cradely. " Barrie, my dear fellow, Barrie ! " You know, perhaps, how the wise men of the theatre talk ? But the thing cannot be left like that. For Peter Standish does go back to the eighteenth century, keeping his 1926 mind, which fits in uncomfortably with laces and ruffles. We are not dealing in dreams. I cannot explain the phenomenon. I only know that strange, terrible, lovely things happen in this house in Berkeley Square ; a coach and four rattles over the cobbles ; the curtains are alive with mystery ; ghosts of the quality walk the room ; everywhere there are men, and Women and girls with loads and loads of mischief. Mr. Balderston has filled his play with a real sense of " other- worldliness ". and the producer, Mr. Frank Birch, is to be congratulated on the extraordinary illusion he has created. I do not know or care whether the Jamesian theory about time is correct. Is the world timeless ? Is there such a thing as lime ? If there were, would it always be out of joint ? ('an one step back into another century between tea and dinner ? What do these riddles signify ? Only that the mystery of creation is beyond understanding, and if it were not so, that life would be intolerable. All these typical Jamesian complexes the authors have successfully amal- gamated in Berkeley Square. Everyone who cares for sensitive feeling in the theatre must see this beautiful play.
The main burden of the acting was sustained by Mr. Lawrence Anderson, who gave an admirable performance, and Miss Jean. Forbes-Robertson. I fancy that this young actress's range is limited. Properly cast, as she was on this occasion, she makes me feel that we are in the presence of a very great artist. Oddly enough, the fact that her talent is inherited from her parents gave subtle point to the historical qualities of the play. Others who did well were Miss Beatrice Wilson and Miss Valerie Taylor. I have only one grumble. Why do producers never give poor Mr. Fisher White a proper chance ? He is such a very good actor, but ambassadorial urbanity is not one of his more obvious qualities. " Mr. Ambassador " was too like " Mr. Sea Captain." He could never have represented Washington at the Court of St. James's, either in this century or in any other.
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