He Couldn’t Even Do a Good Job as the Chorus or a Fake Trumpet Player
“the victim of a doom of charm he apparently could not escape”
“Brooke’s friend Sybil Pye wrote of his stage presence: In spite of his expressive quality of voice and rare power of employing it, he had not, I think, any marked talent for acting. For this reason he was chosen to declaim only the chorus parts in the performances of Marlowe’s Faustus … Even this was not wholly a success. We missed at the performance all the charm of those rehearsals of his part with lovely gestures, which took place daily in the vicarage garden, when he would choose as audience the fat bull-terrier that belonged to the house … he would appeal with passion to the dog, giving chance observers the joy the audience was to miss. {377-378)”
“From this description, a critic might conclude that the “poses” of Brooke’s poetry are not false, but a talent underdeveloped and a fear or abhorrence of an audience that might pass judgement, driving the poet to make too many concessions or evasions for his censors.”
Imagine, if you can, his sins were crimes
Of charm and beauty. Mostly he could not
Slough off his loveliness. His eyes were chimes
Of blue perfection and his face was fraught
With orchestrated gorgeousness. His arms
And body made up male airs for the stage.
These failed. But never mind. He managed harms
To almost all his friends and lovers. Rage
Against them wasn’t acting. He’d gone mad
With sexual rejection. No applause
Resulted when he lost his charm. His scad
Of gorgeousnesses weren’t enough to cause
Commitment other than in bulldog hearts.
He made a mess of theatrical parts.
~ Phillip Whidden