even have known. On the other hand, it was a sin
of commission to allow that Professor Henry Morley was responsible
for the stage management; Mr. Morley being a man of letters whom some
worthy people respect. But perhaps sins of omission and commission
counterbalance. The audience was put in a bad humor before the
performance began, owing to the curtain's rising fifteen minutes late.
However, once the curtain did rise, it was an unconscionable time in
falling. What is known as the "business" of the first act, including the
caterwauling of Sir Benjamin Backbite and Crabtree in their revolutions
round Joseph, was gone through with a deliberation that was cruelty
to the audience, and just when the act seemed over at last these
indefatigable amateurs began to dance a minuet. A sigh ran round the
theatre at this--a sigh as full of suffering as when a minister, having
finished his thirdly and lastly, starts off again, with, "I cannot allow
this opportunity to pass." Possibly the Critics' Dramatic Society are
congratulating themselves on the undeniable fact that the sighs and
hisses grew beautifully less as the performance proceeded. But that was
because the audience diminished too. One man cannot be expected to sigh
like twenty; though, indeed, some of the audience of Wednesday sighed
like at least half a dozen.

[Illustration]

If it be true that all men--even critics--have their redeeming points
and failings, then was there no Charles and no Joseph Surface at this
unique matinee. For the ungainly gentleman who essayed the part of
Charles made, or rather meant to make, him spotless; and Mr. Henley's
Joseph was twin-brother to Mr. Irving's Mephistopheles. Perhaps the idea
of Mr. Labouchere and his friend, Mr. Henley, was that they would make
one young man between them. They found it hard work. Mr. Labouchere
has yet to learn that buffoonery is not exactly wit, and that Charles
Surfaces who dig their uncle Olivers in the ribs, and then turn to the
audience for applause, are among the things that the nineteenth century
can do without. According to the programme, Mr. George Moore--the Sir
Harry Bumper--was to sing the song, "Here's to the Maiden of Bashful
Fifteen." Mr. Moore did not sing it, but Mr. Labouchere did. The
explanation of this, we understand, was not that Sir Harry's heart
failed him at the eleventh hour, but that Mr. Labouchere threatened to
fling up his part unless the song was given to him. However, Mr. Moore