DIMINUTIVE DRAMAS.•
ADMIRERS of Mr. F. Anstey will remember two of his early stories in which he treated respectable classical legends with an irreverent realism. In, for example, The Educe of Agamemnon, just at the point when the Chorus of Argives are about to sing an ode of welcome to their Sovereign, the harmony of the pro- ceedings is interrupted by an awkward dispute between the hero and his chariot-driver over the exact amount of the legal fare. To these stories Mr. Baring's dialogues bear a greater resemblance in method than to any other humorous fiction we can remember. He takes an Athenian supper party after the first performance of Electra and shows us the guests discussing it in the incoherent, misunderstanding way all mixed audiences discuss first per- formances; he shows us Caligula giving a State picnic and meritorious officials proposing the regulation toasts in the traditional style adopted by all public personages when they attempt to say something suitable to the occasion ; he shows us a rehearsal of Macbeth with a quarter of the caste absent, the " star " dissatisfied with his part, and the author snubbed into a proper appreciation of his own insignificance until' he is momentarily in request to write a few lines for the more effective exit of the leading lady. So, and no otherwise, must all these things have been done ; the substance of social life is eternal ; it is only the adventitious that alters ; if Portia and Brutus did not break their engagement with Caesar and Calpurnia in order to get a better dinner from Lucullus, we have no doubt some other equally celebrated Romans did ; and told as Mr. Baring tells it, with dismaying naturalism, it is irresistibly funny. His humour is based on incongruities of character and action, not on mere verbalisms ; it is essentially translatable ; it would be just as good in any other language as in English. But what distinguishes him most markedly from inferior artists is his tact. We all remember the Comic Histories of Rome which used to relieve the tedium of our schooldays, and which we found so inexpressibly unnecessary in later years ; the author determined to be comic on every page, and his illustrator was ready with grotesque helmets, exaggerated noses, and ludicrous sandals to prove to us that he had succeeded. But even apart from the fact that there is nothing quite so tiresome as per- sistent literary buffoonery, we all feel that certain subjects should be preserved from caricature; no one wants Thermopylae treated in the spirit of " Ally Sloper," any more than he wants a comic "Dead March." In this respect Mr. Baring's taste is infallible ; he never irritates us by making us conscious that we are laughing unworthily.
Two or three of the dialogues are written in a more serious vein. Of these, " The Greek Vase " is a well-nigh perfect example of the art of telling a story without the aid of narrative or de- scription ; and " The Death of Alexander " is so good an imita- tion of the Elizabethan style that the average critic might easily be led to take a casual sample as genuine. One of the " dramas " does not come within either of our categories : " The Member for Literature." A plebiscite having been taken among the members of all the literary clubs and societies in London to elect a Member for Literature to the House of Commons, four authors receive exactly the same number of votes. In order to settle which shall be chosen, it is decided that each shall address the same
Drama. Hy Maurice Baring. London Martla Becker.
public meeting, after which the election is to be by ballot. Mr. Max Beerbohm has made so many exquisite parodies of other writers that it is only fair that he should see himself in turn in the critical mirror ; and we are sure that nobody will enjoy the reproduction of his methods better than the author of "A Christmas Garland." We quote a brief passage from the opening paragraphs of his speech ; he begins by informing
his audience that he has not come to talk polities:— " That, gentle public, is what I wish carefully to avoid doing. You can lead me to the hustings, but you cannot make me think—politically. . . . Candidature has been thrust upon me. I am forced to speak to you, I am indeed anxious to speak to you so that you may be able to choose one of the three distinguished literary men, whom you see before you on this platform, to be your Literary Member, and I wish to prevent your choice falling upon me. I will put before you in chosen sentences, which I have carefully arranged beforehand, the reasons why I think you should not elect me. I do not want to be elected. To elect me would indeed be an unfriendly act. Such a choice would not only cause me inconvenience, but it would bring to yourselves neither profit nor pleasure. Be sure I should never think of your interests, be surer still I should never attend the tedious sittings at St. Stephen's. I have listened to eloquence et the Oxford Union and to the gentle rhetoric of Cambridge. Not for me are the efforts of the half-witted and the wholly inarticulate at Westminster, who stammer where old Gladstone used to sing. If you have views I am not privy to them, and from your sympathies I am aloof. I know well enough that you —no more than I—care a red farthing whether the label of your Member be Liberal or Conservative. What you do care for, and what leaves me frigid, is the figure whom you can encourage by chaff or vex by sarcasm."
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