comedies have reduced unconventionality in morals to a
kind of spurious conventionality; in some of them the idea of marriage
as a preliminary to connubial relations is regarded as rather shocking.
Some day Madame Granier will hide her face in her hands, shameful at the
insult of "married woman" hurled at her; and our youthful critic will
admire the audacity. Caution requires the statement that it was not
Madame Granier who gave the semi-demi-private performances: honesty
compels one to admit that these remarks constitute a moan about lost
youth, and are full of envy, hatred and malice towards those blessed
with splendidly indiscreet enthusiasm for flaunting audacity in artistic
matters.

The Jaded Critic

At this, the season of the country cousin, the gift and sometimes
receipt of game, the abandonment of autumn underclothing and the
overhauling of pike tackle, a question is often put to the critic. It
comes from the country cousin, and is generally in these words or
thereabouts: "What piece ought we to take tickets for?" which generally
has an under-surface suggestion, and might be translated into: "For what
theatre are you going to get us seats?" Of course we are dense enough
not to notice that the inquiry is more than skin-deep; the question of
"paper" for the critics is not one concerning which it is necessary or
desirable to write. The answer to the surface inquiry generally provokes
a discussion. In a guarded way the critic makes a reply containing the
formula "I think you would like ----" which does not altogether please
the inquirer. For the country cousin suspects the existence of a lurking
insult to him upon the point of taste or intelligence.

The end of it is always, or nearly, the same, and to the effect that of
course we "jaded critics" do not really care about any pieces at all,
and only visit the theatre because we are paid to go, and that it is
awfully unfair that such "jaded"--one cannot help insisting upon the
word "jaded"--people should be allowed to act as critics. It has been
suggested bluntly that we ought to be dismissed after fifteen years'
labour, and of course, if there were a pension--but then we are no
better off in that respect than county-court judges.

Yet even the cleverest country cousin cannot suggest any useful
employment for superannuated, middle-aged dramatic critics.

No doubt we have been advising our cousins quite wisely as to what is
likely to please them, for if we lea