THEATRE ROYAL

Gisborne Times, Volume IX, Issue 836, 10 March 1903, Page 2

THEATRE ROYAL

“ SHERLOCK HOLMES,”

The Theatre Royal was crowded in every part fast evening, and every available foot of standing room was taken up, on the occasion of the first apjicarance in Gisborne of Mr J. C. Williamson’s celebrated dramatic "company. Hitherto Mr Williamson has not ine.uded Gisborne in the towns of his New Zealand tours, hut we trust that after the great reception that his Company received last, evening he will in future he induced to visit us regularly. The Company opened their season with the famous play, “ Sherlock Holmes,” and the manner in which the piece was pul, on was ;L revelation to local theatre-goers. The very best advantage was made of the ‘inadequate staging accommodation, every detail being considered. In the title role, Mr Cuyler Hastings has established himself a warm favorite with the colonial public, and from the moment, he appeared on the stage last, evening until he left it his every word and action was followed with the keenest interest and admiration. lie was eminently suited to the part, and played it with an ease and natural ness that was pleasing to behold Mr J. B. Atholwood created a most favorable impression as Professor Moriarty, and Mr Hamilton .Stewart made a great, success of the part of James Larrabees. The character of Dr. Watson, the bosom friend of the famous detective, was admirably taken by Mr L. Lumsden Hare, and the interview between the pair 'in the third act was a very fine piece of acting. Miss May Chevalier won the hearts of all present by her impersonation of the part of Alice Faulkner, which she played with great effect. Miss Mabel Lane, as Madge Larrabee, had a most trying part, hut played it in a most successful manner. The minor characters were ably sustained, and the piece went off without the slightest hitch, the audience being most enthusiastic in their appreciation. Without doubt, the, Company is the strongest thathas visited Gisborne, and the manner in which the management has laid itself out to present the pieces to the Gisborne public is worthy of the highest commendation. The scenery was put on in an admirable way. The music was greatly appreciated, and added much lo the evening’s pleasurej

“IF I WERE KING.”

The pronounced taste just at present for semi-historical plays—a tasto doubtless fostered by the wide appreciation of the historical romances which have flooded our fiction libraries of late years—has.sot modern playwrights scouring high and low for picturesque and likely seeming personages round whom they can weave a romantic story. A play to be produced in Gisborne this evening, entitled 11 If 1 Were King,” introduces Francois Villon, a somewhat extraordinary figure in literature, whose disreputable career is mainly known to those who eare to read of it through his books of and poems. Student, beggar, poet, thief, and, it is- to be feared, murderer, Villon, as revealed by himself in his own works, is one of the most amazing and baffling human documents to be found in history. His utter shamelessness on occasion is only equalled at others by the passionate bitterness of his regrets, and the changes were, as far as one can judge, kaleidoscopic'in their rapidity. No doubt for purposes of romantic, drama, the playwright will keep the finer side of Villon’s character at the surface, but it is to be doubted if it , was ever there long. The man was a thoroughpaced blackguard, that is evident, but he had the saving grace of picturesqueness to redeem him in the eyes of those who did not suffer by his rascality, and, further more, one feels pity for him because he'was cursed with a vivid imagination which, for a man with the gallows ever before him as his probable end, must be a tolerable,pun ■ ishment for many sins, As no doubt many readers are aware, his most famous ballad is the ono he wro;e while absolutely under sentence of death. And a marvellous bit of work it is. As Stevenson says* “ it. is sharp as an etching, written with a shuddering soul. It is the quintessence of many a doleful nightmare, when ho’-felt himself swing helpless in the wind* and saw the birds menacing his eyes.” It jg a pity R.L.S. himself did not attempt a translation, for it would probably, have l '“«n better than that of Payne, who has translated oi Villon’s works. The poem draws a grim pietuf? ■ *l*9o self and his companions hanging in. thetr chains till they drop. The following is one of the.verses : We are whiles scoured and sodden of the rain, And whiles burned up and blacked of the sun.

Corbies and pyets have our eyes out to’en, And plucked our beard and hair out pno by one. •” Whether by night or day we rest have none, Now here, now there, as the wind shifts ;.ts stead, We swing and creak and rattle over, head. No thimble’s dinted like our bird-pecked face, . v* Brothers have heed, and shun the life we led, We rather pray, God grant us of His grace.

The man who could write with such shuddering horror as that, and so clearly forasee every terrible detail of his shameful end, must have suffered terribly, and the fits of penitence and of love for his mother and longing for better things were probably sincere enough while they lasted, A curious character, at all events, and many, no doubt, will find an interest in discovering how the dramatist has chosen to treat him. To-morrow evening, the farewell night of this excellent company, will ba set apart for a presentation of tlis great military spectacle," Sestet Service,”