had never seen any other first night. He was shocked, as well
as chilled. And for this reason: for weeks past all the newspapers, in
their dramatic gossip, had contained highly sympathetic references to
his enterprise. According to the paragraphs, he was a wondrous
man, and the theatre was a wondrous house, the best of all possible
theatres, and Carlo Trent was a great writer, and Rose Euclid exactly
as marvellous as she had been a quarter of a century before, and the
prospects of the intellectual-poetic drama in London so favourable
as to amount to a certainty of success. In those columns of dramatic
gossip there was no flaw in the theatrical world. In those columns
of dramatic gossip no piece ever failed, though sometimes a piece was
withdrawn, regretfully and against the wishes of the public, to make
room for another piece. In those columns of dramatic gossip theatrical
managers, actors, and especially actresses, and even authors, were
benefactors of society, and therefore they were treated with the
deference, the gentleness, the heartfelt sympathy which benefactors of
society merit and ought to receive.

The tone of the criticism of the first night was different--it was
subtly, not crudely, different. But different it was.

The next newspaper said the play was bad and the audience indulgent.
It was very severe on Carlo Trent, and very kind to the players,
whom it regarded as good men and women in adversity--with particular
laudations for Miss Rose Euclid and the Messenger. The next newspaper
said the play was a masterpiece--and would be so hailed in any country
but England. England, however--! Unfortunately this was a newspaper
whose political opinions Edward Henry despised. The next newspaper
praised everything and everybody, and called the reception
tumultuously enthusiastic. And Edward Henry felt as though somebody,
mistaking his face for a slice of toast, had spread butter all over
it. Even the paper's parting assurance that the future of the higher
drama in London was now safe beyond question did not remove this
delusion of butter.

The two following newspapers were more sketchy or descriptive, and
referred at some length to Edward Henry's own speech, with a kind of
sub-hint that Edward Henry had better mind what he was about. Three
illustrated papers and photographs of scenes and figures, but nothing
important in the matter of criticism. The rest were "neither one
thing nor the other," as they say in the Fi