,
that he has read in the papers and understood imperfectly; and he
certainly would talk far less about plays if he had not the aid of the
critic's views.

Of course he would be able to call a piece "awfully good," "simply
ripping," "sweetly pretty," "beastly rot," "awfully dull," and to use
ill-assorted adjectives concerning the players; but beyond this he
would hardly venture for fear of uttering absurdities. A curious humour
is that people who have read the opinions which he is misrepresenting,
in the papers from which he got them, will listen without patent signs
of boredom, and in their turn utter second-hand opinions on similar
subjects.

Clearly, then, talk on the topic would languish but for our promptings;
and if the theatres were less talked of there would be fewer visitors to
them. Furthermore, if there were to be no newspaper criticisms of plays
or players, the gossip about them would be diminished even in the
papers, for the thrilling personal paragraphs would lose their point if
given without adjectives, and adjectives involve criticism of one kind
or another.

Would the pieces and performances be affected by the suppression of
criticism? Certainly, to some extent. For even if the professional
critics tell little more than the amateurs who offer friendly advice,
their remarks have a greater weight--partly, indeed, because in a sense
they are not gratuitous. All observers have noticed the fact that we
rarely act on the opinion of mere friends, however sound. Moreover, no
one can deny that when the critics, belonging as they do to many schools
of thought and thoughtlessness, agree, they are likely to be correct.

Even putting them on a humbler level, and assuming that some merely
express the views of the public, they are serviceable, since the
opinions of the world at large are almost wordless, and the author or
player unguided save by those immediately around him, and unable to
learn more of the public ideas concerning a play or performance than is
shown by inarticulate noises and by good or bad houses, would remain
curiously ignorant of errors against art and mistakes as to the desires
of playgoers.

No doubt, to voice the public's thoughts is not our loftiest task, but
it is useful to do so, and there can be no denial of the fact that we
know very well what the public likes. It has often been said that we
make remarkably bad prophecies as to the fate of plays, but some of the
instances quoted are n