The Ageing Abbey. II

Irish Jesuit Province

The Ageing Abbey. IIReview by: Gabriel FallonThe Irish Monthly, Vol. 66, No. 779 (May, 1938), pp. 339-344Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20514332 .

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389

Sitting at the Play.

The Ageing Abbey--lI

By GABRIEI FALLON.

K have seen how, with the going out of the Fays, the " dramatic venture " that was to have been the Abbey Theatre, became merely or mostly an "interest

in plays that are literature ". We know, too, that in spite of some fine individual actors and actresses who have since sprung up on the stage of the Abbey, no company, as a company, has equalled that first company of the Fays. What is more, the players who followed, worked under the direct influence of the first company; Michael Dolan was actually a member and went

with it on at least one of its American tours: Barry Flitzgerald had played small parts in Sinclair's time; muel of his technique can be traced to Sinclair's influence. The main point is, how ever, that all these players were influenced by the work of the Fays. There is hardly a member of the present No. 1 Company who has not at some time or another watched and admired the work of the early players, and although it does not follow that these watchers became imitative of what they saw, something remained-the influence is inescapable. From the audience of to-day come the actors (and the authors) of to-morrow.

Before leaving the Fays, there is an aspect of Synge which should be spoken of here. Both of the Fays had an intense admiration for Synge. Willie makes no secret of the fact that he considered Synge to be a genius, though he thinks that The Well of the Saints is Synge's best play. The first produc tion of this play was badly received. Synge resented it. He



840 THE IRISH MONTHLY

yielded to the temptation to hit back. " Very well, then," he said to Fay one night, " the next play I write I will make sure to annoy thenii." He did. The next play was The Playboy of the Western World! " As soon as I cast eyes over the script I knew we were in for serious trouble unless he would consent to alter it drastically. Many and many a time I strove with him, using all the arguments I could muster, to get him to see that

if you attack your audience you must expect them to retaliate." (The italics are mine.)

Synge was obdurate. No doubt he had supporting friends who upheld him in this obduracy. The Fays pleaded with him, but " it was no use referring him to all the approved rules of the theatrical game. . . . The things that we wanted him to alter did not amount to five per cent. of the whole play. The Well of the Saints had suffered from too much anger. The Playboy of the Western World was anger in excelsis." (The italics are Fay's.) And so the play was produced; the provoked audience responded with a roar; the directors refused to be dictated to by the pit; The Playboy quarrel was on.

Is it not strange that this aspect of the quarrel is so little known? The author attacks and the audience retaliates. The wrath disguised in a grin is quickly seen, more quickly perhaps by reason of the grin. Was this very natural resentment of the audience " the Irish town mind beginning to press its vulgarity ' upon the directors of the Abbey, a calamity which is so frequently referred to by Mr. Yeats? The Playboy quarrel taught the public one thing-that it could not dictate the policy of the

Abbey Theatre. That is a fact which has never been disputed. How is it then that Mr. Yeats, in The Bounty of Sweden, com plains: " We were to find ourselves in a quarrel Wvith public opinion that compelled us against our own will and the will of our players to become always more realistic, substituting dialect



THE AGEING ABBEY-II 341

for verse, common speech for dialect?" Is this quite true? Would it not be more correct to say that from the time of the

exit of the Fays the art of teaching the speaking of verse and dialect was lost? Again, was the will of the players, as Mr.

Yeats suggests, so very strongly braced against this influence of public opinion? In his preface to A Full Moon in March Mr. Yeats confesses: " I came to the conclusion that prose dialogue is as unpopular among my studious friends as dialogtue in verse among actors and playgoers." So dialogue in verse became un popular among players who were compelled against their will and by their audiences to relinquish it for common speech? The truth of the matter is that verse and dialect are only unpopular

with players who cannot speak them, and are only unpopular with audiences before whom they are badly spoken. Besides, the speaking of verse and dialect is a business which is very proper to a " theatrical venture ". At least it was so in the Fays' time. If the art has become of little consequence in the Abbey (as Mr.

Yeats confesses) it is mainly because a " literary theatre " is

seemingly preoccupied with more important matters. Whatever the reason, "a quarrel with public opinion " can have nothing to do with it.

The decline of the Abbey Theatre in things of the theatre this speaking of verse and dialect, for instance, and the all-impor tant quality of team-work-began with the going out of the Fays and their players, and the quality which is vaguely referred to as " the Abbey tradition " in acting, declined accordingly. It fluttered occasionally after their departure, most noticeably, I

think,, under the producership of Mr. Lennox Robinson. " Their

technique, such as it was at the time, was the result of the tuition Frank and I had given them," writes William Fay. And again: " From Glasgow we went to Aberdeen, and thence to Newcastle

on-Tyne, where, at the Tyne Theatre, we found the largest stage



342 THE IRISH MONTHLY

in England outside Drury Lane... Of course, a stage of that size has always an auditorium to match, and I was more than anxious about how our young actors would get their voices heard in every part. . . . I was proud as well as relieved, to find that

Frank's training proved effective. The voices were as beauti fully audible as ever they were at home in the tiny Abbey

Theatre." It is true, of course, as Mr. Nathan says, that " the Abbey,

even in its heyday, was never noted for the splendour of its scenic investiture or the virtuosity of its stage lighting." But that was because it possessed something which was greater than these things, something which rendered these things unnecessary. " Greek acting," wrote Mr. Yeats, " was great because it did almost everything with the voice, and modern acting may be great when it does everything with voice and movement. But an art which smothers these things with bad painting, with innumerable garish colours, with continual restless mimicries of the surface of life is an art of fading humanity, a decaying art."

How is it then that the Abbey's tendency to-day is, as the Irish Times put it, " an effort to emulate more showy productions elsewhere "?

Naturally this tendency to be imitative is doomed to failure. The " showy productions " are, no doubt, quite in place " else where ". In fairness to the Abbey, it should be pointed out that this sad feature of its work has crept in in a rather despairing fashion only during the last year or so. The rivalry, real or

imagined, of another theatre may have been responsible for it. Whatever the reason, it is not an Abbey thing. Good d4cor

and good lighting are as essential in the Abbey as elsewhere, but neither are good unless they are subservient to the actor and the

play. The Abbey has suffered recently from a surfeit of bad

lighting and impossible de'cor to an extent which quite justifies



THE AGEING ABBEY-II 343

the Irish Timnes' complaint. In some of its more recent produc tions this " showiness " reached a point at which it might justi fiably be described as " sheer theatrical bluff ", an attempt to cover up palpable deficiencies in player and play.

While it would not be quite correct to give the impression that in the theatre good acting is everything, it is no exaggeration to say that it matters a great deal. William Fay was a producer no less than the latest young expert in " two-levels " and light ing, but in Fay's time it was not fashionable to talk about " production ". As a producer Fay concentrated on the task of interpreting his author's play through the meditum of- lhis players. To this end he trained his players in an art of acting which he believed was most suited to his purpose, an art which suppressed individuality and employed team-work to an extent which made it unique in the theatre of its time. The effect on his players

may be registered by the reputations which they won, reputa tions which they have subsequently upheld. Aided by his brother Frank (to whose beautiful speaking Mr. Yeats dedicated The King's Threshold), he taught his players to do much with the voice. Under Frank's tuition they became great speakers of verse. He gave their acting a depth which has kept it through the long years between from becoming a restless mimicry of the surface of life.

This was the " Abbey tradition "in acting, this the birthright of its players. During the last decade the Abbey has had many sessions of its Schools of Acting. It has had many, many pupils.

But how many of its pupils have graduated to its stage? And how many of these pupils can be said to be working in " the Abbey tradition "? The Irish Times has observed that there has been a great departure from the team-work of the past, " quiet naturalism has given place to a nervous fussiness in which indi viduals seem to strive for themselves rather than for their part in



344 T"HE IRISH MONTHLY

the play ". This, which would be detrimental to the work of any theatre, is bound to play havoc with the Abbey. Indi vidualism of this type spreads; everyone wishes to be as good as if not better than, his neighbour ; restraint is thrown to the winds, and the telling effect of team-work is lost.

Whatever the Abbey may have gained as an institution interested " in plays that are literature " it has lost much as a "

dramatic venture ". No doubt it never considered that the Fays were important people; that their work was an integral part of the theatre's movement, that it called for continuation. Schools of Acting that are merely productive of school-fees are very unproductive schools of acting. Experimental Theatres that experiment for a week or two and then stop experimenting are very dubious experiments. Tours that call forth the dangerously truthful criticism of the Nathans are dangerous tours. Promises of productions in the native language (an& a

whole season has elapsed since the promises were made) cannot compensate for inadequate productions in the English tongue.

Let the Abbey examine its history. It was William Fay who gave it its acting tradition-something which it has come perilously near to losing. It was Lady Gregory who, on the night of its coming of age, first preached the doctrine of the three A's, a doctrine which the theatre has always attempted to ignore. And it was W. B. Yeats himself who, in going back to the Greeks, so well defined that acting which the Fays left to their followers as heritage, a heritage which has been bartered for the garish colours and the restless mimicries of life, for that art of fading humanity, that decaying art.



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The Ageing Abbey. II