s assuredly an advance on any other
play that I have seen or that has been seen in England. Its naturalism is
positively daring. The author never hesitates to make his personages as
ridiculous as in life they would be. In this he differs from every other
playwright that I know of. Ibsen, for instance; and Henri Becque. He has
carried an artistic convention much nearer to reality, and achieved
another step in the evolution of the drama. The consequence is that he is
accused of untruth and exaggeration, as Becque was, as Ibsen was. His
truthfulness frightens, and causes resentment.

* * * * *

People say: "No such persons exist, or at any rate such persons are too
exceptional to form proper material for a work of art." No such persons, I
admit, exist in England; but then this play happens to be concerned with
Russia, and even the men's costumes in it are appalling. Moreover, persons
equally ridiculous and futile do exist in England, and by the hundred
thousand; only they are ridiculous and futile in ways familiar to us. I
guarantee that if any ten average members of the august Stage Society
itself were faithfully portrayed on the stage, with all their mannerisms,
absurdities, and futilities, the resulting picture would be damned as a
gross and offensive caricature. People never look properly at people;
people take people for granted; they remain blind to the facts; and when
an artist comes along and discloses more of these facts than it is usual
to disclose, of course there is a row. This row is a fine thing; it means
that something has been done. And I hope that the directors of the Stage
Society are proud of the reception of "The Cherry Orchard." They ought to
be.

SEA AND SLAUGHTER

[_6 July '11_]

Recent spectacular events at Court have been the cause of a considerable
amount of verse, indifferent or offensive. But it is to be noticed that
the poets of this realm have not been inspired by the said events. I mean
such writers as W.B. Yeats, Robert Bridges, Lord Alfred Douglas, W.H.
Davies. And yet I see no reason why a Coronation, even in this day of
figure-heads and revolting snobbery, should not be the subject of a good
poem--a poem which would not be afflicting to read, either for the
lettered public or for the chief actor in the scene. However, the time for
such poems has apparently not yet arrived. And meanwhile the
sea-and-slaughter school have been doing an excellent wor