But Mr. JULES DELACRE,
who played his own part, _Pierrot_, with a fine sincerity and a sense of
the great tradition in this _genre_, got his effect across to us with an
admirable directness. Miss PHYLLIS PINSON looking charming in a
mid-Victorian Latin-Quarterly sort of way (which is a very nice way),
danced seriously, fantastically, delightfully, and with quite
astonishing command of her technique--the sort of thing that nine
infallible managers out of ten who know what the public wants would
condemn out of hand as impossible. The intelligent tenth must have been
consoled by the enthusiastic applause which greeted the little piece. I
have a fancy that mime would go far to restore sanity and tradition to
the English stage, and every creditable essay in a delightful art
deserves the fullest support.
It is amusing to see our solemn Mr. JOHN GALSWORTHY in labour for three
Acts over a rude joke. I frankly confess I enjoyed the joke. Cisterns
(its theme) have no terrors for me even in mixed company. But the joke
was not the really serious thing about _The Foundations_, a play that
starts (some years hence) with a mob of starving people yelling outside
the house--dear, stupid, kindly _Lord William Dromondy's_ house. _Lord
William_ was a god of an infantry captain in the great War, and his four
footmen--particularly _James_, the first of them--though revolutionaries
at heart, are ready to stand between their master and any other
revolutionaries in London town.
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