some of the French actresses in London
sent their cards to the representatives of the leading English
newspapers. The most charitable would guess that these visits to the
dramatic critic sometimes influence his notice to an undesirable extent.

It has been said, no doubt untruly, that the rate of pay of the critics
of Paris is based in part upon the supposition that their post gives
them collateral advantages. In England the popular idea is that the
critics are paid vast sums by their editors and also enjoy these little
extras.

This idea is possibly the explanation of the fact that editors sometimes
get letters from people offering to act as dramatic critics without any
salary at all. Apparently the writers of such letters think that the
work would be well enough paid for otherwise. Of course they may be
merely sufferers from the curious first-night mania which induces a
great many people to go to what, as a rule, is the worst but one of the
performances of a play. The second, we know, is absolutely the worst,
since the performers are suffering from a reaction and fatigue, and
there has been no time for improvements to be made in consequence of
criticism, amateur and professional. Undoubtedly, in the case of many
people, the desire to be present on the first night is merely a snobbish
wish to take part in what journalists call "a function," and a large
number of first-nighters would attend certain _premieres_ even if
absolutely sure that the performance would be tedious to them. They are
present to be seen, and not to see, although nine out of ten of them are
of no importance.

The topic is one of delicacy, since everyone is anxious, naturally, not
to write anything which could enable his friends to suggest that he is
vexed because nobody has attempted to bribe him. The supreme humiliation
is for the person who is willing to sin and never gets tempted. It is a
little curious, seeing what large sums are at stake, that the new
Bribery Act may be regarded as needless so far as we are concerned. In
the past there may have been dishonesty; indeed, there was in the case
of one or two very well-known critics. The best story in connection with
this attempted briber relates to one of the most esteemed of our craft,
a writer who has lately retired from the active service of life. A
manager sent to him a present of game, and the critic, feeling
embarrassed, applied to his editor, Sir John Robinson, for advice. Sir
John, who wa