heaper. Let this
precedent be a warning. Let us have patrons by all means, a legion of
titles and lions, for they may prompt munificence. But let the reins be
in competent hands: one director and three guardians (selected from the
patrons), who should keep a watchful eye on the management of the
school. As for the _raison d'etre_, the working, the subject of a
national Dramatic Academy, I have no more to say at this juncture. My
plan will be found summed up by Miss Brough. I hold that it is
practical.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Jerome wishes to educate the Playgoer.]
I think the establishment of a Dramatic Academy would be of immense
benefit to the stage. Whether such an institution would be of
practicable service in teaching actors and actresses the rudiments of
their art--whether it is advisable that they should be taught--whether
it is possible to teach them--are debatable questions that I will not
here enter upon. But such an institution would achieve a much more
important and lasting result. It would educate the British Playgoer. At
present this individual is most lamentably ignorant concerning all
things connected with the theatre. He understands neither drama nor
acting. To him the play is not an art, but an entertainment. He does not
yet know enough about the matter to dissociate the player from the
part. He speaks not of _Hamlet_ as portrayed by Mr. H. Irving, but of
Mr. Irving as _Hamlet_, which sounds the same thing, but isn't. The
following conversation is not invented, but recollected. I heard it in
an omnibus. Said the lady next to me to the lady opposite: "How did you
like Hare?" "Oh, not at all," replied the other, "I thought him a horrid
man--so nasty to his mother." "Oh, yes," said the first speaker, "you
saw him in _Robin Goodfellow_, didn't you? Oh, it isn't fair to judge
him by that. You go and see him in _The Spectacles_. He's a _dear_ old
gentleman." No doubt the second lady will take the next opportunity of
seeing Mr. Hare in _The Spectacles_, and will be delighted to notice how
greatly he has improved. That this is the general attitude taken up by
the public towards its stage servants is proved by the fact that no
favourite actor can play an unsympathetic part with impunity. To "name"
would be dangerous, but reflect for a moment upon the many plays--good
plays--that have failed in recent years simply because the beloved
actor-manager has been cast for the part of a
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