The Crown Prince. Of the many mysterious calamities visited upon the House of Habsburg, none was so overwhelming as the Mayerling tragedy. The crown prince of the Empire, only son of Franz Josef II, was in 1889, found dead at his hunting lodge in Kleyerdorf. With him lay his mistress, partner in death. The actual facts never have been revealed. But from what seems to be the court version, Ernest Vadja, Hungarian playwright, has constructed a great, engrossing play. When presented in Vienna, it was the most exciting topic of the day. Zoe Akins put into English; L. Lawrence Weber presents it at the Forrest Theatre.
The Crown Prince (Basil Sydney) loves a baroness, Anna (Mary Ellis). For her he is ready to give up his wife, the Crown Princess, would even rebel against the Emperor, his father (Henry Stephenson). The first move toward revolution, however, results in the death of his best friends, whereupon the Prince decides to relinquish his right to the royal succession, rather than precipitate further bloodshed or give up his beloved. At this point, Anna protests bitterly, leading to the suspicion that it is the crown she loves not the Prince. The suspicion is apparently confirmed when, in return for the Emperor's promise of high favor, she puts poison in the wine of his son and heir. But the Emperor made the offer only to reveal to the Prince his mistress's perfidy. The young man is warned to order a lackey to drink the wine. Anna prepared for him, then observe the effect and be convinced. Instead of putting her to the test, he drinks the poison, knowing well what the act implies, saying, "If you do not wish me to live, I want to die." Whether from fear, remorse or because only in the moment of crisis could she gauge accurately the love she bore the betrayed, Anna also drinks poisoned wine, dies with her hand clasped in her lover's.
Basil Sydney interprets the Prince not as an ardent, impetuous youth but as one of those equally, through less colorfully romantic figures whose grand passion is faith. Zoe Akins' dialogue, at times a little stuffy, nevertheless succeeds in conveying deftly the meaning of the play. The production is generous; the whole presentation one of the best of the season.
Her Cardboard Lover. After four years as hardy Sadie Thompson of Rain, Jeanne Eagels reappears in a long-awaited comedy, silky and finespun, from the French of Jacques Deval. Peculiarly herself, she glides from slouch to crouch as a tawny lioness playing with catnip. Yet so nimbly does she manage, especially in the second act bed-to-telephone scene, that the audience takes her at her kitten-face value, almost missing the sinister suggestion of claws, energy.