rd the subject: it was whether Sothern's
Dundreary really represented an English type. To answer this is a matter
of some difficulty.

The fact remains that if Dundreary did not represent a type, at least it
created one. Dundrearys became quite numerous after Sothern's success;
and the observant have remarked that not infrequently a stage character
has verified itself by a species of ratification--a remark that has a
flavour of Ireland, or, if a famous essay by Miss Edgeworth is to be
accepted, a flavour of France--this is a reference to her essay on Irish
bulls, a title itself which happens to be unconsciously a bull.

The "mashers" and "crutch and toothpick brigade" of the stage were
rather the progenitors than imitators of the type, and the Gibson girls
were more numerous after the appearance of Miss Camille Clifford than
before she came to London. It might be indiscreet to go further into
details and cite more modern instances on the topic.

One can hardly call this, holding the mirror up to Nature, yet, in a
curious roundabout way, the stage seems to justify itself and become
true after the event. There was a rather bitter discussion some time ago
between an author and a critic; the latter had remarked that the
language of the dramatist's people did not sound true, that it seemed
composed of scraps from the stage, that he generally could guess from
the cue the words of the answering speech.

This, of course, is very often the case; probably to the simple-minded
playgoer when it happens there seems to be evidence that the dialogue is
true. The characters say what he expects them to say--therefore, that
which to him it seems natural for them to say. Perhaps the judgment of
the simple-minded playgoer is sounder on this point than that of the
critic, who is hoping that the characters will utter something that he
does not expect them to say. Probably a large number of the stereotyped
phrases of our actual speech come from the novel or stage, and although
when they were first spoken the truth was not in them, they have come to
be truly representative of the characters.

Novelists of standing are more nicely squeamish on the subject than
dramatists of similar rank; they endeavour to avoid--in dialogue--the
ready-made article; at the same time one notes that the important
dramatist is very anxious to keep clear of the stage-worn phrases.

We know that to some extent people do accept the judgments in plays as
judgment