The Dial, Mar. 16, 1896. Electronic edition published: Feb. 21, 2001">
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REVIEW OF J. COMYNS CARR'S KING ARTHUR
by
ANNA BENNESON McMAHAN
"The New 'King Arthur.'" (Reviewed Mar. 16, 1896 in The Dial by Anna Benneson
McMahan.)
In selecting the old story of King Arthur and his
Knights of the Round Table as a good subject for stage treatment, Sir Henry Irving
has followed in the footsteps of many previous stage managers, including Garrick,
Kemble, and Macready; and Mr. J. Comyns Carr, in writing the play, has had as
predecessors William Rowley, John Dryden, and many less-known dramatists. How
far back we should have to go in dramatic history to find the first play founded
on this popular theme is something only to be conjectured. That there was an exhibition
of mingled archery and pageantry called "Arthur's Show" in the time of Henry VIII.
is known, and that it continued until Shakespeare's time and was seen by him is
probable from his allusion to it in the Second Part of King Henry IV., where Justice
Shallow says to Falstaff, "I remember at Mile End Green (when I lay at Clement's
Inn) I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's Show." Mile End Green was a training-ground
near London, and the troupe consisted of an association of archers who personated
characters taken from the old romance of "Morte d'Arthur," a magnificent prose
poem written by Sir Thomas Mallory in 1461. But neither was Mallory himself the
originator of these knightly tales. He wrought his narrative from old Welsh and
Breton ballads and from the "Chansons de Geste,"--as Homer wrought his "Iliad"
from the preceding warlike ballads, or as the unknown compiler of the "Niebelungenlied"
wrought his poem from similar ancient sources. Living when men still wore armor,
and so near to the actual age of chivalry as to be in full sympathy with the spirit
of its fiction, the good knight gave to these stories an epic completeness which
they lacked before, and created a group of real men and women, and not a series
of lay figures on a background of romance, as were his originals. The characteristics
with which he endowed these individualities have persisted throughout all the
centuries since. Kay is still the man of satirical tongue, Lancelot is bold and
chivalrous, Elaine tender and trusting, Arthur kingly but adventurous, Guinevere
jealous but queenly, when they step upon the stage to-day as when they first received
the breath of life from Mallory.
To speak of Mr. Carr's new play as a dramatization
of Tennyson's "Idylls of the King," or to judge it, as many seem inclined to
do, according as it follows or departs from that delightful poem, is to show
a very inadequate understanding of the situation. The fact is that the mystical
figures of Arthur and his knights have quite stepped out of the historic page
and are recognized as the common property of all imaginative writers. It is
no exaggeration when it is said of Mallory's "Morte d'Arthur" that "it is as
truly the epic of the English mind as the 'Iliad' is the epic of the Greek mind."
Whether there ever was an actual Arthur, King of Britain, or not is nothing
to the purpose; but the truth remains that he has appealed to the imagination
of English writers oftener, probably, than any other figure, real or fictitious.
Milton long had in mind an epic with King Arthur as hero, but abandoned it for
"Paradise Lost"; Spenser took his machinery for the "Faerie Queene" from the
popular legends about King Arthur; Dryden wrote a drama and projected an epic
on the theme; Bulwer wrote a heavy "King Arthur" which nobody reads; Tennyson
wrote a series of splendid poems which everybody reads,--and thus to most people
King Arthur is the Arthur of the "Idylls of the King."
Mr. Carr, like his predecessors, has allowed his
imagination to have its way with the old material, and has felt at liberty to
use such portions as seemed to him best suited to his own purposes. This purpose
being to make a good stage play, the proper test to apply to his work is his
success or failure in this respect. At least this must be said of it, that it
is much more satisfactory than the effort of any previous playwright, as may
be seen by passing the others hastily in review.
It is interesting to note that it is exactly
309 years ago--namely, on the 28th of February, 1587--that the earliest instance
of which we have any record, a play called "The Misfortunes of Arthur (Uther Pendragon's
Son)" was presented before Queen Elizabeth at the court in Greenwich. Then, as
now, the cast included Arthur, Guinevere, Mordred, and the train of valiant knights.
The play was preceded by a prologue, and each act has an argument, a dumb show,
and a chorus. A curious circumstance in connection therewith is that Francis Bacon's
name occurs in the list of writers by whom the dumb shows and additional speeches
were "partly devised." So, whatever may be assumed concerning the Baconian authorship
of the Shakespeare plays, it is reasonably certain that Sir Francis had something
to do with the production and composition of at least one Elizabethan play. During
the same year, it was "reduced into tragicall notes" by Thomas Hughes, one of
the Society of Gray's Inn by whom the play had been presented, and afterwards
printed. Copies of this book are now extremely rare; a more accessible reprint
may be found in the little volume edited by John Payne Collier, under the title
"Five Old Plays." There is no indication that the play ever became popular; nor
was Richard Hathaway's play, "The Life of Arthur, King of England," two years
later, more successful.
One other Elizabethan dramatist--William Rowley--was
attracted by the Arthurian legends. He called his play "The Birth of Merlin."
For many years this play was attributed to Shakespeare. Translated into German,
it may be found in the Newberry Library, Chicago, included in the first volume
of the complete works of Shakespeare in German.
The first of the King Arthur plays to become really
popular was the "dramatic opera" of John Dryden in 1691, called "King Arthur,
or the British Worthy." It was received with great applause at its first appearance,
was often repeated, and held its place on the stage longer than any other of
Dryden's numerous plays. Doubtless a considerable part of its success on its
first presentation was due to the fact that its cast included such actors as
Betterton, Kynaston, and Mrs. Bracegirdle, and that the music was written by
the foremost composer of his time. Henry Purcell. Dr. Burney in his "History
of Music" says of this work of Purcell's, "A century has not injured it, and
especially the duet of Sirens in the enchanted forest, 'Two Daughters of this
Aged Stream,' and the 'Fairest Isle all Isles Excelling,' contain not a single
passage that the best composers of the present times, if it presented itself
to their imaginations, would reject."
Strange as it seems, although the text of the
play was published in 1691, this delightful music, with the exception of a few
songs, remained unpublished until 1843, when all that could be collected was
issued by the Musical Antiquarian Society. A copy of this volume, which includes
text, music, and history of the play, is in the Newberry Library.
The most important revivals of the play have been,
in 1770, under Garrick, with Bannister, Mrs. Baddeley, and Thomas Jefferson
(ancestor of our much-loved actor) in the cast, and with additional music by
another eminent composer, Dr. Arne; in 1784, under Kemble, with Mr. Kemble as
King Arthur and Miss Farren as leading lady; in 1842, under Macready, when it
had a run of thirty-three successive nights at Drury Lane Theatre.
As for the play itself, it has little to do with
the king and his knights. The scene is laid in Kent, and the story resembles
a fairy extravaganza; there is an enchanted wood with a Saxon magician and a
British enchanter, an "airy" spirit and an "earthly" spirit, and many dances.
In 1776, William Hilton, a poet of little merit,
wrote a tragedy called "Arthur, Monarch of the Britens," which he never succeeded
in getting accepted at any theatre, and there is a record of a tragedy by E. J.
Riethmuller, published in London in 1841, which seems to have been equally unfortunate.
Thus the "King Arthur" of Mr. Carr, first presented
at the Lyceum Theatre in London on Jan. 15, 1895, and with the cast much the
same as now playing in America, is easily chief among the stage King Arthurs.
He is a flesh-and-blood hero, surrounded by knights and ladies clearly individualized,
who, while moving in a world whose manners are remote from our own, yet appeal
to our modern taste and serve to make us realize why this chivalric romance
was the favorite fictitious literature of Europe during the three or four mediæval
centuries, and why it has been such a favorite theme from those days until now.
The action is conceived on true dramatic principles. There are no anti-climaxes,
no superfluous lines, but all the incidents bear upon the development of the
story and push it towards a conclusion which is both unexpected and thoroughly
effective. It sweeps through a wide range of passions; love, jealousy, falsehood,
revenge, a manly and heroic forgiveness, are deftly woven together and compel
the interest from start to finish. Less satisfactory poetically than dramatically,
it yet contains many fine passages, and the last scene between Arthur and Guinevere
will even bear comparison with Tennyson's treatment of their parting. Guinevere
having called for a champion to do battle against Mordred, her accuser, Arthur,
who is supposed to have been killed, enters with lowered helm. Disclosing himself
to Mordred, they fight, and Arthur falls wounded to the earth. Guinevere re-enters,
sees the face of Arthur, and falls at his feet, crying, "My lord! my lord!"
Arth. Whose
face was there? I pray you some one say,
For all grows
dark: I know not where I am.
Guin. Her
name was Guinevere.
Arth. What
sirs? why then,
This should
be Cameliard.
(Rousing
himself with sudden energy.)
See,
'tis the spring!
Down in the
vale the blossoms of the May
Are swinging
in the sun! and there she stands
That shall
be England's Queen!
Far
up I hear
The ceaseless
beating of Death's restless wing,
And round
mine eyes the circling veil of night
Grows deeper
as it falls. Henceforth my sword
Rests in
its scabbard. What remains is peace.
(He
falls back dead.)
Guin. He's
gone, the light of all the world lies dead.
ANNA
BENNESON McMAHAN.