The House of Temperley at the Adelphi (review 5 january 1910)
"The House of Temperley" at the Adelphi is an article published in The Bystander on 30 june 1909.
The House of Temperley with Ben Webster as Charles Temperley, was performed from 28 december 1909 to 30 may 1910 et the Adelphi Theatre (London, UK).
"The House of Temperley" at the Adelphi
This is quite a clever production. It is not exactly a play as we understand the term in these fastidious days, although Sir Arthur Conan Doyle has done his best to give it coherence by introducing the familiar points of stock melodrama. As is usual in these cases, the hero has the fortunes of his house staked on the result of a sporting event; but, as is quite unusual, the event is not a horse-race, but a prize-fight. The rest of the normal features are there, however, in their right order. Instead of nobbling the favourite they abduct the best fighter, and where under normal circumstances an outsider steps forward at the eleventh hour and rides the horse to victory, a member of the hero's house steps into the ring and knocks the opposition out in fourteen rounds. It is right that I should add at once for the benefit of those to whom a prize-fight is not an elevating spectacle that at the Adelphi the whole business is conducted with an agreeable delicacy, while at the same time there is a fidelity to detail that makes the illusion of brutality most complete. Anyone desiring to acquire information about the "Ring" in a picturesque manner may be safely recommended to see this play.
One of the cleverest scenes is that of "Tom Cribb's Saloon." A number of fistic celebrities, past and present, gather round the tables for a friendly "free-and-easy," the harmony of which is only broken occasionally by the yearning of a member here and there to punch another member in the eye. These little manifestations of hostility are, however, promptly suppressed by the chairman, Tom Cribb himself, who as the "Champion of England" may reasonably feel that his ruling will not be very often disputed. After the members have made speeches and sung songs we are told that there is a young man outside who is spoiling for a fight, and as one of the company has endeavoured to get up at least ten fights on his own account during the harmonious evening, it is agreed by the company that both sides can now be agreeably accommodated. The tables are accordingly pushed back to allow room for the pleasing little display that follows, and a pretty little two-round bout, with gloves, is supplied for the edification of the assembled guests. During this period the action of the play practically ceases; but we do not miss so very much on that account, as the reconstitution of the old Parlour quite absorbs our attention. It may be decided that the management have paid too much attention to what after all can only be an attraction for the élite of the sporting world; but that is a question that at present lies in what Goethe calls the loom of time. The scene is quite remarkable for its truth to life, its rich humour, and its unalloyed worship of physical supremacy. It was played throughout with a fine spirit, and aroused the tremendous enthusiasm of a crowded house.
The great scene is in the Ring at Crawley Down. To begin with, the scenic artist, Mr. F. L. Schmitz, has been most successful in its conception, and then there is a return to the plot in one of its most exciting phases. One of the champions having been kidnapped, it is anticipated that the fight will have to go by default, and that all the lovely money that has been laid on the absent man will also be lost — and everybody knows how reckless authors are with their money when they are making bets on the stage. At the eleventh hour — or, to be more precise, as there is a referee with a stop-watch present, 11 hr. 59 min. 59 sec. — a new champion appears and takes up the challenge on behalf of the House of Temperley. This time there is no nonsense about the fighting so far as appearance goes. No gloves are used. The fighters are stripped to the waist, and as one of them is a real boxer with a very fine muscular development, the fullest possible value for the money is given. The distasteful element usually common to such proceedings is adroitly avoided by the lowering of the curtain between the first and the fourteenth rounds, and while the distress of the beaten man is very cleverly suggested at the finish, it is done with a nice restraint that must make it, I think, quite inoffensive to any except those who have made up their minds to protest beforehand. It is frankly a play of the primitive instincts of poor, mortal man, and it conveyed the impression to me of having been written with a purpose by way of protest against the prevalent love of ease. I should not like to commit myself to the opinion that there is a very large market for merchandise of this sort, but I can personally testify to its value in engendering the bellicose instinct. I am a most peace-loving creature myself, but as I came out of the theatre I could not help going and standing by a large and somewhat obese policeman on the other side of the road in the hope that he would push me just once. I was confident that that would have been quite enough — for him.
JINGLE.
