has any touch of originality, or
even novelty, our pleasure is far keener than that of the
unsophisticated, and we often perceive originality or novelty where the
public notices none. A whole field of enjoyment is open to us in the
triumphs of technique which is almost untrodden by the general public.
Our poles of pain and pleasure are farther apart than those of the Man
in the Street. There have been pieces and performances concerning which
the praise of the critics, or some of them, has seemed mere raving to
the ordinary playgoer. Several actors and actresses whom we prefer to
some of the popular favourites have been banished from London by the
indifference of Londoners, and there are "stars" beloved in the theatres
who irritate the observant because they have never learnt their art, and
nevertheless triumph by mere force of personality.

No doubt the critics, so far as acting is concerned, often--very
often--fall into an error and censure acting which does not move them
yet impresses the audience, forgetting that it is the advantage and
disadvantage of the actor that he need only affect, and must affect,
those before him, and that to move only a minority of a normal audience
is to act badly. One may write but cannot act for posterity, and
therefore the actor, the pianist, the violinist, and the like should not
be grudged their noisy, obvious demonstrations of admiration.

Does the critic really get jaded? Is it unfair that the "jaded" critic
should deal with the average play? In answering the latter question one
should consider whether the notices of the younger critics, too fresh to
have become jaded, are more valuable than those of the veterans. Perhaps
the two questions should be treated together.

Most critics do get jaded. The critic is jaded when he is saturated with
theatrical impressions and cannot take up any more, when new pieces
merely recall memories of old pieces or are disliked and distrusted
because they do not. After a certain age, varying with the individual,
all, or almost all, of us gradually move towards a condition of
repugnance to new ideas--a repugnance that becomes hatred when they are
inconsistent with the old theories that have grown to be part of
ourselves as well as of our stock-in-trade; and when this movement has
gone far we are "jaded," are unfit to estimate the value of new ideas;
we are still competent to apply the old theories to plays and acting
based on them, but of course cumber