Carriages at eleven; the story of the Edwardian theatre

by Walter James Macqueen-Pope

232 pages, Hardcover

First published December 31, 1970

About the author

Walter James MacQueen-Pope was an English theatre historian and publicist. From a theatrical family which could be traced back to contemporaries of Shakespeare, he was in management for the first part of his career, but switched to publicity, in which field he became well-known. He was a prolific writer of books about the theatre, and in particular its more glamorous aspects. He also described himself as an "authority on pantomime".

Reviews

[Ian B. · Rating 2 out of 5]

I bought this title for a couple of quid from Oxfam; I thought it might be interesting, and it was, fairly (although repetitious). It is a volume of reminiscences, rather than a history, of the Edwardian theatre (here, 1897 to 1914). MacQueen-Pope takes the position that these years represent the high point of the British stage: everything before was building up to it, everything afterwards marks a falling away. He never misses an opportunity to denigrate the contemporary world (the book was published in 1947), and this quickly becomes tedious. It is also self-defeating: he is really only writing for people who lived through and remember the period, i.e.: those then in their fifties and above, a dwindling audience, rather than trying to appeal to the general reader.

There is a lot of rhapsodizing over Edwardian society and taste, but little reflection or analysis. We get strings of outlandish and mostly forgotten names: occasionally I recognized one or two who popped up in Hollywood character roles later on – Constance Collier, C. Aubrey Smith, Gladys Cooper – or who worked in British films – Donald Calthrop. There are forty or so photographs of performers and a few impresarios, and I liked these: the faces, costumes and attitudes are fascinatingly alien. For me, the two best chapters were those in which ‘Popie,’ as he was apparently known on British television, recreates the excitement of a child going to the Drury Lane pantomime; and gives a rundown of other forms of entertainment for the Edwardian man about town: the Empire (a variety palace) and Alhambra (the home of ballet) in Leicester Square both featured ‘promenades’ of high-class prostitutes parading up and down to catch the eyes of potential clients (‘the most amazing procession of glorified Vice’).

As with any despatch from a lost world, some of the details are pleasurably bizarre. There is a popular pianist and singer called Barclay Gammon; the hit song from 1899’s hit musical comedy San Toy is ‘Rhoda and Her Pagoda’ (‘Who will forget…?’ muses the author at this point; well, pretty much everyone I’m afraid); and a certain Colonel Newnham-Davis, author of the book for Lady Madcap, who is described as ‘the Pink ’Un’s “Dwarf of Blood”’ – this goes unexplained. Overall, the book was a bit of a trial to read, but would probably be good secondary material for anyone researching Edwardian theatreland, or who wanted to write a novel set there.