The Irish Theatre, founded near the beginning of the century and represented primarily by the Abbey Players new in their last week in Boston, has long been the subject of culogy among people interested in the drama. Much of this praise is legitimate, although such grandiose heralding as "magic players in magic plays," and "brilliant repertoire," approaches the kissing of the Blarney Stone. It is doubtful whether Synge, perhaps the greatest of the Irish playwrights, as he listened through a chink in the floor of his upstairs room in a little peasant house where he lived to learn and understand the Irish, would appreciate this box-office phrasing. Since O'Casey and Yeats take it with a grain of salt, it must be necessary. The plays are simple and forthright in action. What has made them works of art and at the same time given them market value is the conviction with which their creators seize upon Irish life, portraying it on the stage with truth and sympathy. As important as the plays are the players who fill the roles with a happy naturalness.

The fiery temperament of the Irish, their quick forgiveness, their petty scheming, their simple life, all are taken into account in the swiftly moving "Playboy of the Western World." While he shows the romantic, exuberant nature of the girls, who immediately find charms in the sturdy young run-away who is claimed to have murdered his father, and the way of release from reality for the men, who depend heavily on periodic benders, Synge also shows the deep, unconscious yearning for the rare and the unknown in their earthy world. In the end the play becomes almost tragic as "Pegeen Mike," the shrewish heroine, realizes that she has lost her erstwhile wooer, "the only playboy of the western world."

But there are lighter touches. When the Widow Quinn bargains with lily-livered Shawn to get the playboy out of the way, when the drunken Flaherty endeavors to maintain a fatherly dignity, when the playboy discovers his good looks, when "Pegeen" upbraids him as a pretender, then does Synge bring to the foreground his intimacy with the Irish humors.

Aside from a little difficulty in catching on to the rhythmic lilt and the brogue of the dialogue, easily anticipated by reading the play in question, the factor which may evoke difficulty is the seeming lack of patriotism, shown by their absence, of Boston's political corps. Incidentally, seeing a performance or so of the Abbey players is a fine way of attaining atmosphere for that examination in Comparative Literature 19.