Cymro a'r Celt Llundain

LITERARY AND OTHER NOTES. BY NORICK. The Irish Literary Theatre is paying London another visit, and strange to say, the literary world of our great city regards it as an artistic event. I know of no finer in- stance of absolute conquest than this. Here is a group of, on the whole young men, avowedly inspired by a nationalist ideal, writing of moods and passions which in a certain sense are detached and foreign, and in a literary form strange to us, yet receiving homage from the greatest critics of the English nation. It is a strange phen- omenon that the greatest dramatist of Europe in the nineteenth century should be a citizen of a small nation in revolt, writing in a tongue spoken only by some two or three million people. I refer to Ibsen. It is almost as strange that the greatest English dramatists of the beginning of the twentieth century should also be citizens of another small nation in revolt. I mean Shaw, Yeats, Synge, and a number of others, who almost alone have saved the reputation of the modern English drama. I wish to draw no conclusions, but simply to state the bare fact. With a small crowd of admirers, I went along to the Court Theatre, Sloane Square, to see the last play penned by that wonderful dramatic creator, J. M. Synge, and which he left unfinished at his death. I left the theatre sad and sorrowful at the thought what a loss Ireland had sustained by the death of Synge in the day of his promise. Death is always just a little cruel, but this seemed to me to be one of its most grinning and callous spites. And yet, though he died before he was forty, Synge lived long enough to create a great tradition, and to preach in his own creations a new gospel of literary art, as every one who has seen or read The Play Boy of the Western World or The Riders to the Sea will know. The grim, elemental power of these earlier, more complete, and more perfected marvels is always present in this unfinished play, but it is also clear that the hand of the creator became still in death before the perfect beauty of the gem was worked out of the rough stone. There are some lines of sheer, entrancing beauty here and there in the play. That wonderful threat of the old Druidess, when she warns the King from his sin, is beautiful as the cliffs of some lonely icebound northern shore are beautiful. She speaks of a time when, even in the high chambers of the royal palace, goats will be scratching, and sheep coughing in the night when there will be a great wind blowing from the north." Similar in its nature is the address of Deirdre, in her madness, to the moon Little moon, little moon, tis lone- some you will be yourself to-night and to- morrow night, and for many a long night after wandering over the pale woods looking for the great lovers." These are only two instances from a score. As I was placed in the theatre where I could but imperfectly catch the words, and as the actors did not always speak the words quite distinctly, I lost the full detail of many a perfect phrase. The play, however, was not as satisfactory as, say, The Riders to the Sea." It is true that every fresh dramatist must consecrate his gifts to Deirdre, at some time or other, yet, it is very doubtful whether justice will ever be done in the drama to this wonderfully lovely legend. The story is the work of long ages; its words and thought-forms were fixed by men whose soul experiences were very different from ours. They were men who had lived in holy communion with sea and air, with hearth and woods, in a way in which none of us ever can. Men do not only pay the penalty of the sin of convention and materialism individually, but ages and periods also pay the same penalty, and though Synge lived as near the elemental forces of the great world as most men do to-day, he, also, was the victim of his age to some extent, and it is only at times that he has caught the soul of the legend of Deirdre. At isolated moments Synge, in this play, has shown us what a terrible thing the love of old men for young and beautiful women may be, and how the love of young men and young women may be a still more terrible thing. Yet the vision is not a permanent and a brooding thing as it is in the legend itself. But all this is hardly just. Let it suffice now to say that Deirdre of the Sorrows is a thing of marvellous loveliness. A few days after my visit to the Court Theatre, that insolent American showman, Theodore Roosevelt, in a speech delivered before a number of overfed City Aldermen, advised the repression of small nationalities moved into protests and demands by a con- sciousness of their own powers and their own rights. He did it in the name of righteousness, the name in which negroes are lynched in his democratic and radical country. Behold the answer to his barbaric twaddle. For almost two centuries a policy of repression has diverted the powers of one of the most artistic nations in the world into an utterly unsuitable field of activity. Why were justice done to Ireland, were it given a measure of political and economic independ- ence, it might yet save the soul of the world. This is true not of Ireland only, but also of other repressed nationalities.

RICHARD WILSON AND KILGERRAN. Ap N. writes :—In my communication in the CELT recently I stated that in the lists which I had seen of Wilson's pictures there was nothing indicative of his having used Kilgerran as a subject. I have been fortu- nate since in falling upon a book the title of which was only known to me before (alas for the loss of the title-page, and imprecations fyrdd upon the head of him who, with villainous hands, tore out the full-page frontispiece—an engraved portrait of Wil- son !)—" Some Account of the Life of Richard Wilson, Esq., by T. Wright, of Norwood." London, 1824-in which the doubt as to the connection in question is cleared up. Wright's book is a quarto volume of 276+viii. pages, to which are attached five useful appendices, among which are a list of Wilson's pupils; a long list (covering over three pages) of "many of Wilson's principal pictures with the names of the possessors of them and a list giving the principal engravings from the paintings of Wilson, with names of engravers." In the last-named, one of the items reads: Kilgarron Castle W. Elliott." So here we have unequivocal evidence of Wil- son's intimacy with Kilgerran, substanti- ating the interesting fact given by Newell in his Scenery of the painters' partiality for the vicinity. W. Elliott was, of course, the engraver. I have mentioned above casually that the frontispiece is missing from my book. This is truly a misfortune, for it was a portrait' of Wilson engraved by W. Bond from the original picture for which Wilson sat to Mengs, the latter presenting the Welsh painter with the work out of admiration for his genius. The portraits of the two young princes by Wilson, which I mentioned in my former communication, may be seen in the National Portrait Gallery. The picture hangs in the basement, and the description on the frame is as follows :—" George Frederick, Prince of Wales, afterwards George III., and George Augustus Duke of Albany, with their Tutor, Francis Ayscough, D.D." Taking my cue from Allan Cunniingham's Lives of the Painters," I had mentioned Dr. Hayter, Bishop of Norwich, as the tutor of the young princes. The fact seems to be that the picture of the princes and their tutor was painted for Dr. Hayter. Wilson was perhaps too disingenuous and blunt to make but an indifferent Courtier. It is related of him that when Lord Bute approached him for the purpose of pur- chasing for the King A View of Sion House from Richmond Gardens the painter named 60 guineas as the price. His lord- ship demurred, saying it was too much, and Wilson retorted that if the King had not the money to pay at once he would take the amount by instalments. This, adds the account, lost him Court patronage.

Mr. Gwynne Da vies, who gives a recital at Bechstein Hall next Thursday, is one of our promising young tenors, and has had the advantages of superior education in his early days. He has always been an ardent student of music, and his tutors prophecy a very successful career for him on the public platform. We trust that his many friends in London will encourage him on his first appearance with a patronage worthy of a music-loving people. MEDICAL SUCCESS.-We are glad to find that Mr. Goronwy Meredith Davies, son of Mr. Hugh Davies, Chemist, Machynlleth, and brother of Dr. Delia Macdonald, Hampstead, has obtained the degree of M.B.,B.S of the London University. Dr. Davies studied at St. Thomas's Hospital. We have received a copy of the new Festival Anthem for S.A.T.B. It is entitled Surely Goodness and Mercy," and was composed by Morella C. James. The music is very impressive, and the anthem ought to become very popular. The publisher is Mr. Stanley Jones, South Wales Eisteddfod Music Warehouse, New Arcade, Newport (Mon). One of the newest and brightest magazines issued from London is the Baby's World. It was started by Messrs. W. and E. Berry, J.P., Merthyr, in which town they were born. Mr. W. Berry commenced his literary and commercial career on the Merthyr Times office. Proceeding to London he started the Advertising World, which was very successful The Baby's World also promises well.