The Appointment of thf New Examiner of Plays. 43 



tion, the whole body of dramatists invariably represent adultery, 

 we do not say as a peccadillo, but as the calling of a fine 

 ijentleman, as a grace wilhuut which his character would be 

 imperfect. All the agreeable qualities are always given to 

 the gallant. .'\11 the contempt and aversion are the portion 

 of the unfoilunate husband. The dramatist does his best to 

 make the person who commits the injury graceful, sensible and 

 spirited, and the person who suffers it a fool or a tyrant 

 or Ixith. 



LORD macaui.ay's JUDGME.VT. 



Macaulay, be it stated in passing, is not describing 

 " Dear Old Charlie," but the abominations of 

 Wyclierley and Congreve. The description, however, 

 applies as' exactly to one as to the other. Nor would 

 it be possible to describe the world of Mr. Brookfield's 

 play more accurately than in Macaulay's words : — 



.Morality constantly enters into that world, a sound morality 

 and an unsound morality, the sound morality to be insulted, 

 derided, associated With everything mean and hateful ; the 

 unsound morality to be set off to every advantage and incul- 

 cated by all methods direct and indirect. 



It is the creator of this kind of Lupanar of a world 

 who is employed by the Lord Chamberlain, with 

 the blessing of the Home Secretary, to read and 

 report upon the morality of our modern plays ! It is 

 an old device of the devil to seek admission to the 

 priesthood the better to betray the Church. In 

 those old stories, however, the wolf was always dis- 

 guised in sheep's clothing. But to-day there is no 

 attempt at concealment. The Evil One, horns, hoofs 

 and tail all complete, with "Dear Old Charlie " pro- 

 iruiling from his breast pocket, is made the censor of 

 the morals of the British stage 1 



FOOLS WHO MAKE A MOCK AT SI.V. 



It is written in an old book which both the Lord 

 Chamberlain and the Home Secretary might read 

 with " great profit," that " fools make a mock at sin." 

 If to make a mock at sin be the mark of a fool, then 

 iiiall I-2ngland could there be found a more unmistak- 

 able fool than the author of " Dear Old Charlie," 

 whom the Lord Chamberlain delighteth to honour ? 



I am not pleading for the Censorship. Neither 

 have I any objection to plays that turn upon sex. 

 Sex is the divinest thing in the whole world, and 

 that is why I feel such unutterable loathing and 

 hatred for the obscene tribe of japing satyrs whose 

 foul imaginations revel in making jests at the abuse 

 of Sex. 



Thr modern adultery play, of which " Dear Old 

 (Jharlie " is a type, is like the sow which .Antiochus 

 lipiphanes oftired on the altar of the most High in 

 the Holy of Holies. But no one in these unenlightened 

 times seems to have proposed to reward the man 

 responsible for profaning the temple of the living 

 God with the abomination that maketh desolate by 

 making him High Priest. That supreme outrage 

 was reserved for these later days, when the sons of 

 the Puritans find "great profit and amusement" 

 in reading plays which glorify adultery and deride 

 morality. 



" MR. BROOKFItLD MUST GO ! 



Mr. Brookfield must go. Nothing else can atone 

 for this outrage on the conscience of the nation. It 

 is primarily a matter for the Nonconformist con- 

 science, which the Dean of St. Paul's described the 

 other day as "the greasy instrument of party politics," 

 but which, oddly enough, usually is most active in 

 assailing breaches of the moral law committed by 

 Liberal politicians and Liberal .Administrations. But 

 has the Archbishop of Canterbury nothing to say to 

 this matter? or the Bishop of London ? or even our 

 gloomy Dean himself ? whose conscience, if not 

 " greasy," ought over this outrage to be somewhat 

 queasy. The matter cannot rest where it is. Mr. 

 Brookfield must go, and, as I said before, if the Lord 

 Chamberlain goes with him so much the better. For 

 the man who is so colour-blind to morality as not to 

 see the special disqualifications of the author of 

 " Dear Old Charlie " for the post of Examiner of 

 Plays is no more fit for the post of Censor than a 

 colour-blind engine driver is fit to drive the Scotch 

 Express. 



III.— WH.Vr IS "DEAR OLD CHARLIE"? 

 It is obvious that the whole point of the foregoing 

 protest is directed not against Mr. Brookfield as a 

 man, of whose admirable qualities and transcendent 

 virtues the world may be unworthy, but sinii)ly and 

 solely against the author of a certain stage play 

 adajrted from the French for the English stage and 

 performed under the title of " Dear Old Charlie.'' 

 The justice of this protest, therefore, depends entirely 

 upon the character of the play in question. What 

 that play is may be seen from the following synop.sis 

 of its contents which has been drawn up by Mr. W 

 ,\rcher. 



"DEAR OLD C H A R L I E." 



{.\ SvNoi'Sis \Vithoi;t Commen r.) 



" Dear Old Charlie " is Mr. Charles Inglcton. It is his 

 marriage morning, and his valet is packing his travelling-bag. 

 " Now his brown Jaeger pyjamas," says the man. " No ; how 

 stupid of me ! They're to go after with the heavy luggage. 

 These are the ones he's taking with him " — and he holds up a 

 suit of bright pink silk pyjamas. " Rather bizarre I call them ; 

 but I suppose he knows the ciTect he wants to produce." 

 ■ iThcn " dear old Charlie " enters. Having ordered. his man to 

 light a fire, though it is June, he produces a casket of letters, 

 and, before burning theui, soliloquises over them. They are 

 the letters of two marrieil women, Mrs. Ilonora Pe|iloe and 

 .Mrs. Rhoda Dumphie, with whom he has lived in adulterous 

 intercourse. One of ihcm, .Mrs. Dumphie, is n<nv dead. "One 

 day the doctor called," says Charlie, "and told me thai I h.ad 

 lost my wife — I mean I had lost Dumphie's wife — I mean 

 Dumphie had lost his wife.". l"or two years and a half Charlie ■ 

 used to go every night to Dumphie's and play a game called 

 " .My bird sings." He used to pay every possible attention to 

 Dumphie's comfort, and "the husband was always grateful." 

 The Dther la<ly, Mrs. I'eploe, is still alive. "Uonora!" 

 sighs Chailie over her letters— "I shall aKvays miss I lonora I 

 .\nd her husband too — in a way." .She had an ingenious 

 method of communicating with him. She sent her husband to 

 call, and, as she dabbled in Westralian stocks, instructed hiin 

 to a.sk Charlie, "What is the price nf (lolden Hopes D.-- 

 fcrred?" This mess.age meant that there \v;is a letter for hiui 



