The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1906-07-08
TWO PLAYS BY OSCAR WILDE.
"A FIorentine Tragedy" n "6alorhe"
Given Privately In London.

LONDON, June 30.-THR SUN had some-
thing to say recently about an American
play produced In London with every ex-
ternal sign Of success at Its first perform
anoe and shortly afterward withdrawn.
The fact Is, Of course, that although the
London ~playgoing public Is q large one the
portion which considers the drama seri-
ously as an art Is relatively very small.
1t sufioes to All q playhouse a few times
only, and of the regular London productions,
especially tho popular successes, there are
not many which such ~playgoers care to see.
To see q poor play or q poor performance
once or twice matters little, except for the
boredom; but to see poor, plays frequently
debases ones standard Of taste. :
In the endsavor to avoid bad plays fas-
tidious playgoers sometimes miss q good
one. In general, however, these critical
folk, whose standard Of taste has been
formed largely in Paris and Berlin, are safe
In assuming that II will not pay a London
manager to produce the things they care to
see.
Once, therefore, they just stood aloof
and shifted haughtily, but Of late years they
have done something more intelligent.
They have formed themselves into assocla-
lions and produced the desirable plays.
just ono or two performances, for their own
e~diacation.
The newest OF these associations lis the
Literary Theatre Club, and it's latest pro-
auctions are two tragedies by Oscar Wilde,
"A Florentine Tragedy and 1Salome."
II Ia difficult to say which Is the more harrow
ing, but both are calculated to make your
soul turn gray.
Several people, presumably those having
souls, could not bear the stress Of this
| double performance. They made unseemly
exits at impressive moments. George
Bernard Shaw was one OF those who endured
to the end.
"A Forentine Tragedy" given for the
| first time, was in the nature Of a hora dhf urre.
Simone, a Florentine merchant, comes home
and surprises his young wife in the company
OF a young nobleman. You know that m
body is going to be killed, but you have to
| wait a long time while Simone fools both the
young man and his wife; plays upon their
feelings, and on yours; treasures them, but
not you
Finally Simone challenges the gallant and
kills him. stabs him horribly; and then he
turns to his wife.
-Now for the other"
The girl, who has hitherto seen In her
husband only a prosaio and elderly mer-
chant to whom she had been married for the
sake Of, his money, is filed with admiration
Of his prowess.
"Why,' she cries. as the dagger is about
to crash down upon her, why did you not
tell me you were 80 strong?"
He, realizing for the first time what
At $500 l. III l.. - Ii 1xA- Ii
dagger fall to the ground, exolaiming:
why did you not tell ne you were 30
beautiful?'
The curtain rattles down and the audi
ence simply gasps. The paradox involved
is being much discussed.
In "Salome' you know more or less what
to expect in the way Of violent death, the
head Of John the Baptist, at least; but the
play has the immense attraction Of being
in Great Britain a forbidden n e In CONT
mental Europe it has a great vogue, espe-
cially in Berlin, hut when some years ago
Sarah Bernhard, for whom it wa originally
written. wanted to produce it in London,
the censor Of plays, the Lord High Cham
berlain, refused on religious grounds to
grant a license.
II you like to produce it privately that is
your own affair, but you may not take
money at the doors from the general public.
Invite as many as you like, or elect people
on payment Of some small sum to be tenn
porary members of your association and
then charge them for their seats. This Is
legal. In America it may seem absurd,
but here 1t is a most useful law, preserving
to the nation an dor Of sanctity, providing
the Lord High Chamberlain with an excuse
for his existence, and safeguarding you
against his conceivahly excessive zeal.
1t must now be admitted alphabetically
that "Salome" Is not 40 very dreadful.
1t is, however, the most intensely dramatic
play that Wilde ever wrote, and it contains
incidentally some of the finest and most
imaginative. writing of this master Of the
English language.
The phrasing is sumptuous, often con-
| veying as II were a rich exotic atmosphere,
affecting all the senses. YOU seem to be
aware of luscious Oriental perfumes and OF
gorgeous orchids.
Last year. when the play was produced
for the first time in England by the New
Stage Club, so many of the actors were
amateurish and the accessories and space
~ inadequate that the piece failed Of much
Of it's effect. Now, at the Kings Hall,
Covent Garden, the stage was big enough,
and the acting, notably the performances
of Robert Farquharson rs Hsrod and Miss
| Darragh as Salome, in the main very good
indeed.
Beautiful costumes, falling into, con-
trasting with and enhancing a general
color scheme Of blue, were specially de-
signed by Charles Ricketts,. the we'll known
artist, and a rather dim lighting gave the
requisite air Of mystery.
The scene. lit by the moon, is a great
terrace in the palace Of Herod, act above
the banqueting hall, At the left is the
prison Of Iokdnddn tJohn the Baptist,
an old we'll or ~cistern, surrounded by a
wall OF green bronze His guards, some
soldiers, are leaning over the balcony and
talking.
The evening banquet, al which an envoy
from Cesar Is being entertained, is just over
and to the terrace presently Comes Saiome.
seeking to escape the eyes Of Herod, Tetrarch
OF Judea.
81 will not stay. l cannot stay. Why
H., the Totrar ch look at ma all tho whilo