Mr. George Moore and His New Play

The Observer, 1 June 1930, page 19, 1,328 words

A Conversation in Ebury-Street.

“The Brook Kerith.”

Views on a National Theatre.

Laissez-Faire and the Artist.

(By G.W. Bishop.)

Maid: “Mr. George Bishop, of The Observer, to see you, sir.”

Mr. George Moore: “Come in, Mr. Bishop, and tell me what I can do for you.”

Everybody who has read “Conversations in Ebury-street” will know that is how an interview with Mr. George Moore should begin, and if followed the rule exactly. I knocked at the door of his house, and while waiting for an answer saw Mr. Moore peep through the curtains to see who had called. “So far, so good,” I thought. “Mr. Moore is at home. He is probably alone, for he would not leave a guest to come to the window. I wonder if he will see me.”

I had carefully chosen the time. It was as I thought. Mr. Moore was about to have tea, and he asked me to join him in a cup. While we ate toasted buns I asked him if he would tell me something about the new play he had written. It is to be published shortly by Heinemann.

“With pleasure,” Mr. Moore replied, “for I think the interviews in The Observer are very well written. Would you like my secretary to take a shorthand note of our conversation, or would you prefer to rely on your memory?”

I said that with his permission I would take a few notes myself, and try to give an impression of his conversation.

“The Passing of the Essenes.”

“Very well. The play is called ‘The Passing of the Essenes,” and is founded upon an incident in ‘The Brook Kerith,’ but nine-tenths of it is new material. It is in three acts, and the whole takes place in twelve hours. Paul has been hunted out of Jericho for preaching his doctrines, and he and Timothy have been pursued through the hills and have escaped across the Jordan. During the night they miss each other, and Paul takes shelter in the valley through which the brook Kerith runs. The Essenes take him in, provide him with rest and food, and Jesus and a shepherd go in search of Timothy. After he has eaten Paul tells the extraordinary story of the man who was raised from the dead, and when Jesus returns he finds the Essenes are divided against each other. The dramatic point of the play is when they tell Paul that the Jesus who was on the cross is there in the cavern. I will tell you the rest of the story if you like, but perhaps it would be better to wait until the play is published or produced.”

I thanked Mr. Moore for telling me so much.

“I have introduced an argument into the last act when the Essenes discuss whether the Messiah is a single incarnation or many incarnations. Were not Moses, Elijah, Pythagoras, Socrates, and the other great teachers incarnations of the Messiah?”

“Does Jesus come into the play?” I asked.

“Yes, into every act,” he replied.

The Question of Censorship.

I asked Mr. Moore if it was true that “The Passing of the Essenes” was likely to be produced at the Arts Theatre Club.

“The Arts Theatre produced my play, ‘The Making of an Immortal,’ and it was acted so finely , with all the histrionic talent of London in the cast, that any other manager is afraid to do it again. It was played so magnificently before, is what they say…. The Arts Theatre will also produce ‘The Passing of the Essenes,’ and I shall leave it to them. I have written the play, and it is not for me to say whether it is good or not. It is Hebrew material in Greek form, and deals with a great religious subject. I have my own ideas of the actors who should take the parts of Jesus and Paul, but I shall not say anything nor do I propose to attend any rehearsals.”

Do you think the Lord Chamberlain will license the play for public performance?” I asked Mr. Moore.

“The play will be produced privately at the Arts Theatre Club, and will not have to be submitted to him. If it is successful, and there is public desire for it to be presented at an ordinary theatre, the Lord Chamberlain can see it and decide whether it is an edifying spectacle. But doubtless it will be acted in France and Germany and America and other countries.”

The Next Book.

“You have another book besides ‘The Passing of the Essenes’ ready for publication, I understand.”

“Yes, ‘Aphrodite in Aulis,’ which is a story of the time of Pericles. It is about some ordinary people with two wonderful sons, and is entirely original, or as original as any new story can be. I may have read something once that suggested it.”

“Were the tales in ‘The Storyteller’s Holiday’ based on legends?”

“No, they were my own, but there again, I probably heard something that suggested them to me. It is strange how a writer gets ideas. Would you like to hear how I came to write ‘Esther Waters’?”

“Very much,” I replied.

“I was walking through the Strand one day and I bought a newspaper from a boy. In the paper there was an article about servants. I wish I knew who wrote it, but he pointed out that, while it was true that servants were often very annoying, was it realized how much we annoy servants by ringing bells unnecessarily and so on? Dear me, dear me, I thought, what a good story it would make to write about a servant, to go underground for material instead of upstairs. Then I tried to think of a theme. How about a lackey running away with his mistress? No, that has been done often. First I thought of writing about a cook, and finally I decided to tell the story of an ordinary housemaid. She is seduced, of course, and has a child — but there, you know the rest, for you told me you had read the book.”

The National Theatre.

I cannot remember why the question of a National Theatre was raised.

“Why does Mr. Granville Barker want the Government to spend two millions on a National Theatre?” Mr. Moore said. “There are two millions of people unemployed and the country is in a dreadful state, yet he is asking for four walls and a stage in which to produce masterpieces. There are no masterpieces being written.”

“Do you not think that a National Theatre would encourage dramatists to produce great works?” I asked.

“You cannot assist art, and you cannot repress art. If you look into history you will find that is true. If a man has it in him to write a play or paint a picture, to put up four walls will not help him. National galleries did not produce great pictures. They were painted because the artists wanted to paint them. Wagner did not compose great operas because there was a building in which they could be performed. The whole world was against him, and he probably did better work for that reason. You cannot help art. The whole thing is ridiculous. If people want to see Shakespeare he is performed. Shaw does not need a National Theatre. Why, they perform his plays in the King’s-road and in Birmingham and Manchester.”

I had been with him over an hour, and I thanked Mr. Moore for seeing me. “Are you sure there is nothing else you want to ask me?” he said. “There are a thousand things upon which I should like to hear you talk,” I replied, “and perhaps you will let me call upon you another time.” He said I might, and I went out into the pouring rain after an extremely pleasant Conversation in Ebury-street.