Behind the Footlights

y—A Real Tragedy and Comedy—Ibsen’s First Book—Winter in Norway—An Epilogue—Arthur Wing Pinero—Educated for t

on modern drama is Henrik Ibsen. Half the dramatic world of E

n unusually high forehead, and in true Norse fashion wears his plentiful hair brushed straight back, so that, being long, it forms a complete frame for the face. He has whiskers, which, meeting in the middle, beneath his chin, leave the chin and mouth bare. Under the upper

of the frozen mass. It can be very cold during winter in Christiania, and frost-bite is not unknown, for the thermometer runs down many degrees below zero. That is the time to see Norway. Then everything is at its best. The sky clear, the sun shining—all Nature bright, crisp, and beautiful. I

rooms; and yet Ibsen is a rich man. His books have been translated into every tongue, his plays performed on every stage. His work has undoubtedly revolutionised the drama. He started the idea of a[Pg 76] play without plot, a character-sketch in fact, a

is repellent and certainly has not added to the betterment of mankind. His

which was the great man’s study. He rose, warmly shook me by the hand, and finding I spoke German, at once became affable and communicative. He is of Teutonic descent, and in many ways has inherit

at Berchtesgaden in 1880,” he exclaimed. “But to

ENRIK

ecretary, it worries him to dictate, and consequently all communications requiring answers have to be written by the Doctor himself. His calligraphy is the neatest, smallest, roundest imaginable. It is representative of the man. The signature is almost like

dinary—some little wooden carved Swiss bears, a diminutive black devil, smal

nny little things?

me on the table. I could not write without them. It may seem strange—perhaps it is—but I cann

fascination, the origin of those much-discussed dolls in

sen be owing to age, for he was born in 1828 (although in manner and gait he appears at least ten years older), or it may be from shyness, for he is certainly shy. How men vary. Ibsen at seventy seemed an old man; General Diaz, the famous President of Mexico, young at the same age. The one drags his feet and totters along; the other walks briskly with head erect

are hospitable and friendly, but not as a rule costly, and although Ibsen is a rich man, the only hobby on which he appears t

ng weird verses. Only twenty-three copies of his first book were sold, the rest were disposed of as waste paper to buy him food. Those long years of struggle doubtless embittered his life,

ve them apart; they quarrelled, and never met for years and years. Strange fate brought the children of these two great writers toge

n into the lives of Scandinavia’s two

sits to Christiania tried hard to see some plays by Ibsen or Bj?rnson acted; but, strange as it may seem, plays

t all events one of his most poetic. The hero is supposed to represent the Norwegian character,[Pg 80] vacillating, amusing, weak, bound by superstition,

sely, objectively to paint human nature as he saw it, leaving deductions and dogmatism to others.” He declared he had never posed as a reformer or as a philosopher; all he had attempted was to try and work out

to arouse him in earlier years. His social and symbolical dramas done, his work in dramatic reform ended, he folded his hands to await the epilogue of life. It is a pathetic picture. He who had

has also paid him the compliment of echoing that verdict by translating and producing many of his plays: and if in spite of translation they

learnt his stage craft—and devoted himself to writing plays instead. Since that period he has steadily

ngth of purpose, which, coupled with genius make the man. Under that assumed air of self-possession there is a merry mind. His feelings are well under control—part of the actor’s art—but he is human to the core. Pinero is no ordinary person, his face with its somewhat heavy jaw is full of thought and strength. He has a vast fund of imagination, is a keen student of human natur

at so and so might

t, and no plays were ever mor

dual; individual in his style, and individual in the working out of his characters. During the whole of one August Mr. Pinero remained in his home near Hanover Square finishing a comedy of which he supe

r, that he did not like it, or he would not so quickly have turned his attention to other matters. Those who remember his stage life declare he showed great promise as a[Pg 83] young actor. But be this as it may, it is a good thing he turned his back upon that branch of the pr

le caricature of himself in a few moments. His is a strong and striking head which lends itself to carica

attributed his succe

tribute to small powers of observatio

date, for Mr. Pinero is m

ests, while beyond was a large dining-room, to which we afterwards adjourned. That amusing actor and charming man, John Hare, with whom Pinero has been associated for many years,[Pg 84] was present; Miss Irene Vanbrugh, his Sophy Fullgarney in the Gay Lord Quex, and

because just as a secretary sees the worst side of his employer’s character, the irritability, the moments of anxious thought and worry, so the actor generally finds out the angles and corners of a dramatist. Only those who

f friendship, which, like healt

, 23a, Old Bond S

HUR W.

hold of the chief situations as a nucleus, from which they work out the whole. Some writers let the play write itself, that is to say, they [Pg 85]start with some sort of idea which develops as they go on, but the mos

the room. He strolls round Regent’s Park, or bicycles further afield, but the dramas are al

ges, makes and remakes his plots, and never puts pen to paper until he has thoroughly realised, not

e, and so careful is he of the minutest details that he draws a little plan of the stage for each act, on which he notifies the position of every chair, and with this bef

on for the actor, every gesture, every movement, and thus is able to give[Pg 86] t

more critical of his own work, he spent fifteen months in completing The Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith, nine months over The Second Mrs. Tan

staking men alive, and ove

can finish a single speech right,” he rema

d arranges his business; takes a walk or a ride till luncheon, after which he enjo

good tea (is it a high tea?), shuts the baize doors of that delightful study overloo

antly, walks about continually, and rarely puts a line on paper until he f

d, Pinero’s is large, contains handsome furniture, interesting books, sumptuous éditions de luxe, charmin

ully copies it himself in a handwriting worthy of any clerk, and sends it off at once to the printers

kely to prove of use in his work. It is much the same sort of day-book as that kept by Mr. Fran

he laundress learned the wicked ways of society. The figures now

nd luxury, and his plays r

ce me in spite of myself to lift them up in the world. The lower classes do not analyse or meditate, do not give utterance eith

years. Life is his stage, men and women its characters, his surroundings the scenes. He does not wish a State theatre, and thinks Irving has done more for the stage than any man in any time. He has the greatest love for his old master, and considers Irving’s Hamlet the “most intelligent performance of the age.” He waxes warm on the subject of Irving’s “magnetic touch,” which i

al event, and rightly so. It was on a wet October eveni

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the Third in a private room at the Café Régence; and the Epilogue at a photographer’s in Baker Street. The events of the four acts of the drama, commencin

DER THE PERSONAL DIR

Painted by

SATURDAY, OCTO

(for Charles Frohm

g

nd Street swell. For once he left those high-class folk he finds so full of interest, moods, w

be, his nervousness overpowered him to the point of ashen paleness and unrestrained twitching of the fingers. His m

nager as the dominant person. He is so often the only figure on the canvas, his colleagues mere side-show puppets, that it is a real joy to see a play in England where every one is given a chance. Mr. Pinero does that. He not only creates living breathing studies of humanity, but he se

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W. L. Courtney and Malcolm Watson beyond, J. Knight, A. B. Walkley, and A. E. T. Watson near by. Actors and actresses, artists, writers, men and women of note in every walk of life were there, and the e

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