The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1895-10-02
THE NEW CRITICISM.

Bolton-II's All true, then. How ter
rible, waking up TO life again with such a
dead weight on brain and heart was 8
coward not to take a header off Westmin-
ster bridge. I can't face Rose again--my
Rose of the world! (Sees a half finished
letter, which lies near brandy bottle on
the table close beside him. Cad, L must
have dreamed 1 finished that and posted
1t. She has been grieving about me, l
know. I wonder where those cartridges
are. Gle goes into the next room. A
knock at his door and a sweet voice
"Kenneth, may I come imp (Another
knock, and, after pause, Rosamund Find
lay tilnidly erters.)
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT, met Hawkins
just going out to buy your breakfast. and
he let me in. Oh, Kenneth's rot here, aft
or all, but he has been here. There are the
newspapers. How my heart aches for him !
What wretches those critics are! I should
like to see them killed with my own eyes!
Hes begun a letter. 1 wonder if it is to
me. (Reads.) my own precious girl,
have not courage to see you again. For
give me for what am about to- On,
has he killed himself? (She means and
falls on her knees, with her face upon the
letter. Bolton comes to the doorway, the
revolver still in his hand, which he con-
ceals when he sees Rosamund.)
Bolton-My darlingl
Rosamund-Oh, you are alivel
Bolton (taking both her hands)-You
ought not to have come here, Rose.
Rosamund-You wouldn't come to me.
You left me sitting in the box at the thea
ter without a word. 1t nearly broke my
heart.
Bolton--I could not face you and your
mother after that wretched fiasco. 1
knew then that the play was a hopeless
failure. l went out alone and walked the
streets until could get the morning pa
pers. Those were terrible hours, but per-
haps I felt spark of hope until l read
what the critics had to say. You know
that they all agreed my play was the work
of a nadman; that it isn't even original:
that it's immoral that it's absurd; that
it's the worst bit of work put on the Lon
den stage for a dozen years. You know
how our hopes were built upon it. And
what is left but debt, disgrace and disap
pointlnent? Who will take any of my
work after this? What is life to me with
out hope of you? I will not accept it'll
Rosamund-Oh, Kenneth, if you kill
yourself, you kill me too. (The voices Of
men laughing together boisterously are
heard in the hall.) How terrible! I must
have forgotten to close the outside door
What shall Go?
(Bolton hastily puts her into the next
room, and, drawing the portiere, stands
before the door, as though at bay Alex
ander Orlne and Eve or six other men,
more or less young, enter, following their
own knock.)
| A Journalist-We1l, old chap here we
are, you see, to congratulate you.
Another Man-Luekiest fellow I know
| Still Another MAXWELL. we don't
grudge it you, or we shouldn't be here.
! Bolton CONFUSED and angry)-I don t
I-roxx- hot low n
here to laugh at me?
The Journalist-Laugh? Don t talk rot
| We've cone to pat you on the back.
Bolton-In heavens name, fer what?
The Journalist-Because you're in such
deuced good luck. Haven't you seen the
papers?
Bolton (grimly)-Yes; I've seen them.
Another MAXWELL, then, what do you
/ want? What could be better? Does any
body say a good word for you? Do they
leave you leg to stand on?
Bolton-Not they! And I can't help
saying it's not exactly friendly in you all
| to come spying about here, gloating over
my misfortune.
(They all close hilariously around him,
Elapping him on the back and poking him
in the ribs)
a Playwright-Don't be an ass, dear
boy! We all know you re green, only born
/ ENO ears dSO--MIGA Gu CdIllC 10 1Ou0OI
and this is your first play. But you
can't get US to believe that you re donkey
enough not to see that the critics have
simply combined to make your fortune.
BoIton-For Gods sake, take your sar-
casm somewhere elsel They've ruined me,
that 5 all.
A Playwright-Well old man, you are
behind the times! Haven't you learned
yet that nowadays the public goes by con
/ the critics damn you, the people run after
you. They're filed at once with morbid
curiosity. They want to see for themselves
what's wrong-w.sether it's private spite,
or whether you got anything to say that
it would be better for them not to hear
JoYe, what luck you're I'M Not one CT
two of the papers, but all, come down on
| you, and, as though they hadn't done
enough for you already, they attack youl
morality. The parsons will be preaching
! against you in church You'll have tC
| take larger theqter. None of US, has
| ever contrived to fall on our feet like this
| at the first jump.
| The ,Tournalist-See, here's Orme. Read
the papers and wouldn't rest till heC
/ flashed over here to engage you to write
| the next play for the Frivolity, lest hi
should be too late.
Another Man-Clever beggarl Knew
some other manager would have bagged
you before night.
Bolton-You're not all lying to chez
me up. Is it really true?
Alexander Orme-It is, my boy. I've
come to talk business.
The Playwright-You must stand u!
some wine all round.
Bolton-I will 1 will I'll drown you
in champagne. But go over to the club
and III join you there presently DOM
think me inhospitable or ungrateful, buf
/ II must have ten minutes alone. By
JOve fellows, you've saved my life!
(They all go out laughing. The dooi
slams behind them.)
Bolton-Rosamund
(Rosamund runs in, between tears ant
laughter. They fall into each other
arms. )-Sketch.