* * * * *

[Sidenote: J. T. Grein goes into figures.]

I have expressed my opinion on a Dramatic Academy in the Daily Chronicle some time ago, and have been promptly abused for it. Consequently, I am most firmly convinced that the reasons which I brought forward are sound. Nowadays, abuse is the highest form of approbation. There are just two little points on which I wish to touch just now, not in defence, but to explain. I mean that famous L50,000. It has been repeated that I want L50,000. I want them very much indeed, privately, but for the academy—c'est autre chose. All that I really want is that someone (the inevitable "someone," who plays such a star-part in our theatrical world) should lend a sum of L50,000 for five years, which should be placed in a bank under trustees, and the usufruct of which should serve to maintain the establishment during its period of dentition, if I may call it so. After five years the capital would return to its owner, who would be none the poorer, while art would have been a great deal the richer for it. It is also insinuated that, because I opined that one man—not an actor—should stand at the head of affairs, I had clearly indicated who should be that man. I—of course! Such accusations of self-nepotism are a sign of the times. No one can speak disinterestedly about a subject now; we all must have a motive. We are all mercenary, we are automatic advertising machines of our own selves, we are always insincere. Charming! But for my own part, I wish to state it very plainly that I never have thought, or could think, of putting my own candidature forward if ever the academy should become a fact. I have no desire to fill such a post, an Englishman born should do it: it is a national affair. One thing should not deter us from advocating the academy. I refer to the failure of the former school. All I know about it is from hearsay, but it must have been a most miserable business, and if half the tales which are in circulation about the management are true, it was fit for anything except education. The radical and principal fault of the old school was that it had too many heads and not one competent ruler. Big names alone will not accomplish the work, and large committees are the most troublesome spoke in the wheel-work of any machinery. The former draw the money and the latter spend it. When the funds had dried up the whole thing collapsed. And what had it done? Nothing, absolutely nothing of any importance, nothing which could not have been done better and cheaper. Let this precedent be a warning. Let us have patrons by all means, a legion of titles and lions, for they may prompt munificence. But let the reins be in competent hands: one director and three guardians (selected from the patrons), who should keep a watchful eye on the management of the school. As for the raison d'etre, the working, the subject of a national Dramatic Academy, I have no more to say at this juncture. My plan will be found summed up by Miss Brough. I hold that it is practical.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Jerome wishes to educate the Playgoer.]

I think the establishment of a Dramatic Academy would be of immense benefit to the stage. Whether such an institution would be of practicable service in teaching actors and actresses the rudiments of their art—whether it is advisable that they should be taught—whether it is possible to teach them—are debatable questions that I will not here enter upon. But such an institution would achieve a much more important and lasting result. It would educate the British Playgoer. At present this individual is most lamentably ignorant concerning all things connected with the theatre. He understands neither drama nor acting. To him the play is not an art, but an entertainment. He does not yet know enough about the matter to dissociate the player from the part. He speaks not of Hamlet as portrayed by Mr. H. Irving, but of Mr. Irving as Hamlet, which sounds the same thing, but isn't. The following conversation is not invented, but recollected. I heard it in an omnibus. Said the lady next to me to the lady opposite: "How did you like Hare?" "Oh, not at all," replied the other, "I thought him a horrid man—so nasty to his mother." "Oh, yes," said the first speaker, "you saw him in Robin Goodfellow, didn't you? Oh, it isn't fair to judge him by that. You go and see him in The Spectacles. He's a dear old gentleman." No doubt the second lady will take the next opportunity of seeing Mr. Hare in The Spectacles, and will be delighted to notice how greatly he has improved. That this is the general attitude taken up by the public towards its stage servants is proved by the fact that no favourite actor can play an unsympathetic part with impunity. To "name" would be dangerous, but reflect for a moment upon the many plays—good plays—that have failed in recent years simply because the beloved actor-manager has been cast for the part of an objectionable person.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Thinks it can be done.]

In the interests of playwriters and play-actors, I wish to see the playgoer—our dramatic lawgiver—be educated; and I think this might be done by means of a "Royal Dramatic Academy." Our Royal Academy of Art has been the means of bringing into existence an artistic public, which, if small, is at all events growing and enthusiastic; and a man can paint a picture with the certainty that some, at all events, of the people who come to look at it will be capable of comprehending his meaning. Without our Royal Academy of Music it is probable that Ta-ra-boom-de-ay would represent the high-water mark of our national taste. With the advent of a "Royal Dramatic Academy" (the "Royal" printed fairly large) people would begin to grasp the idea that acting was an art. A public would grow up able to appreciate a play as a play, and not merely as a digester or a pick-me-up; playwriting would not be the lottery it is; and the actor, no longer a mere public pet, would receive more dignified recognition as an artist. In France, in Germany, in Austria, in Holland, there are dramatic schools, and acting is regarded as an art. In England, keeping a theatre is supposed to be on all fours with keeping a shop. I should be sorry to add to the dustheap of rubbishy talk about Art, but thought and emotion, though it is legitimate to live by them, are not on all fours with other merchandise. An artist has a right to sell what he may possess of them, but he has no right to adulterate them to suit the taste of his customers. Something is needed to come between the drama and the entertainment-seeking public—something that shall, on the one hand, foster a purer taste, and, on the other, support and encourage a higher aim. I think a Dramatic Academy might accomplish this. If not, I know of nothing that would.

THE END