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Updated: June 10, 2025
Dorriforth. Certainly not, nor are they in that case bound to insist on one's not being a little vague about them. They are perfectly free to withhold them; they may have very good reasons for it, and I can imagine some that would be excellent and worthy of all respect. But their withholding them is one of the signs. Auberon. What signs? Dorriforth.
Charles misses you sadly, and so do I. Prepare to find him in a bad mood to-day. But just now he distressed Mr. Dorriforth by his unreasonableness touching the railroad." She smiled and went on lightly, "He said that you were a false friend to him a traitor!" And then Catherine Nagle stopped and caught her breath. God! Why had she said that?
Good scenery and poor acting are better than poor scenery with the same sauce. Only it becomes then another matter: we are no longer talking about the drama. Auberon. Very likely that's the future of the drama, in London an immense elaboration of the picture. Dorriforth. My dear fellow, you take the words out of my mouth.
It has an idea that fine scenery is an appeal to its nobler part, and that it shows a nice critical sense in preferring it to poor. That's a real intellectual flight, for the public. Auberon. Very well, its preference is right, and why isn't that a perfectly legitimate state of things? Dorriforth. Why isn't it? It distinctly is!
Dorriforth. Auberon hates generalizations. Nevertheless I make bold to say that we go to the theatre in the same spirit in which we read a novel, some of us to find one thing and some to find another; and according as we look for the particular thing we find it. Auberon. That's a profound remark. Florentia. We go to find amusement: that, surely, is what we all go for. Amicia.
"James," she said, and then she stopped for a moment a moment that seemed to contain æons of mingled rapture and pain "one word about Mr. Dorriforth." The commonplace words dropped them back to earth. "Did you wish him to stay with you till to-morrow? That will scarcely be possible, for to-morrow is St. Catherine's Day." "Why, no," he said quickly. "I will not take him home with me to-night.
"Silence!" cried Miss Woodley, struck with horror. Yet, amidst all her grief and abhorrence, pity was still predominant, and, seeing her friend's misery, she did all she could to comfort her. But she was resolved that she should leave home, and, on pain of revealing her secret to Mr. Dorriforth, induced her to pay a visit of indefinite length to her friends at Bath.
It was all extremely quiet and comfortable, and I don't in the least recognize Dorriforth's lurid picture of the dreadful conditions. There was no scenery at least not too much; there was just enough, and it was very pretty, and it was in its place. Dorriforth. And what else was there? Florentia. There was very good acting. Amicia.
Dorriforth. I'm too ambitious, you mean? I shall presently show you that I'm not ambitious at all. Everything makes against that I am only reading the signs. Auberon. The plays are arranged to be as English as possible: they are altered, they are fitted. Dorriforth. Fitted? Indeed they are, and to the capacity of infants. They are in too many cases made vulgar, puerile, barbarous.
What was my word? Auberon. You are sovereignly unjust to native talent among the actors I leave the dramatists alone. There are many who do excellent, independent work; strive for perfection, completeness in short, the things we want. Dorriforth. I am not in the least unjust to them I only pity them: they have so little to put sous la dent.
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