Going to the Play—by Bus.
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HALP the pleasure of playgoing is in the going and in the journey home again. This is especially so in London, where travelling facilities are so lavish. One gets on the bus in happy anticipation of seeing a good play, and—hopes in this direction usually being fulfilled—one returns home in a state of happy recollection.
Really bad plays do not often manage to get themselves produced, so the playgoer can usually be sure of seeing something good. In the theatre, too, his peace of mind need not be disturbed about the getting home. He can see the play through, and even then have supper and take his ease.
But were he suddenly transported to the provinces it would not do for him to behave in this easy-going fashion. The last train is often quite impossible except at the expense of some part of the last act. The last tram (if that is any help) might be caught if one can run and not be easily tired.
But, as a matter of fact, it is the bus which has made It possible for provincial theatre audiences to remain undisturbed during the final scenes; and, even when there is some doubt about catching the last bus, a party may hire a special and so be relieved a the anxiety which would otherwise hang over the evening.
These things were impressed on the writer's mind when, a few weeks ago, a Shakespearean company of B30 the first quality came to a certain Yorkshire city. The plays of Shakespeare not having the wide popular appeal of some modern productions, this company had to depend upon a large area for support, and the buses drawn up in a side street showed where some of the support was coming from. One could imagine a few enthusiasts, determined not to miss the rare opportunity of seeing Shakespeare well and truly presented, getting a party of village dwellers together so that a bus could be chartered.
Coming out of the theatre and walking through the town, one could see buses waiting at their accustomed places to take the happy playgoers home. Specials were also used to bring children from the schools in outlying villages. Fresh from the love-making of Orlando, romantic schoolgirls could sit in the bus and dream dreams, whilst the boys could laugh at the mimicry of Touchstone by one of their fellows.
Of course, there are Shakespeareans (and others) who take their pleasures better for. a little hardship. To walk miles in fierce winter weather in order to see a good play is a thing deserving of praise, but if it were ever enjoyable it is no longer necessary. There is scarcely a village in this part of the country which is not served by the bus, and none surely which would confess its failure to provide at least one busload for a good play. W.P.