ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN (1841 - 1901)
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ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN (1841 - 1901) |
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LETTERS TO THE PRESS (22)
Two Novels
The Daily Chronicle (19 September, 1895 - p.3) “NEW NOVELS.” THE EDITOR OF THE DAILY CHRONICLE. SIR,—My attention has been called to The Daily Chronicle of this morning in which you announce a story called “Diana’s Hunting” as “a new novel” by me. A similar announcement, I observe, is made by Messrs. Chatto and Windus in issuing another story called “Lady Kilpatrick.” In justice to the public and to the author, it should be explained that neither of these works is “a novel” in the ordinary sense of the word—a hateful word in my opinion, but used ordinarily to describe long stories in three volumes. “Diana’s Hunting” and “Lady Kilpatrick” are merely short tales, three or four of which would be required to make up a story of the usual library length.—I am, &c., Sept. 17. ROBERT BUCHANAN. ___
The Star (6 November 1895 - p.1) JONATHAN PINCHBECK. TO THE EDITOR OF “THE STAR.” SIR,—lt is many a long day since I read anything so touching as your account of Jonathan Pinchbeck, in Saturday’s Star, and I think you are doing a real service to Humanity in giving publicity to the facts. In days when the god Jingo flourishes, and the flamboyant leaderwriter is never at rest, when the trial of latterday Christianity is found over the Empire on which the sun of Hypocrisy never sets, it is cheerful to hear of a man who, out of means so squalid and so miserable, shapes his life so bravely. Surely even those whose delight it is to supply the poor African with flannel waistcoats, and to succor the distressed and pugnacious Armenian, will admit that Jonathan Pinchbeck is a hero, though he never seems to have posed as a Christian or a martyr? For my part, I believe that it is men like this, and neither Cecil Rhodes nor Tommy Atkins, who have made England what it is, or (to put it more accurately) who are making it what it will some day be. Eastbourne, 5 Nov. ROBERT BUCHANAN. _____
The Star (22 November, 1895 - p.3) JONATHAN PINCHBECK. TO THE EDITOR OF “THE STAR.” SIR,—ln your issue of 6 Nov. you publish a letter from Mr. Robert Buchanan setting forth the brave way in which this man has fought with noble endurance against poverty. Now, he being a man who can neither read nor write, teetotaler, a non-smoker (though he has collected, we will say, 2cwt. or more of cigar-ends in his daily wanderings), he has asked me to thank Mr. Robert Buchanan through your columns for the donation he has kindly received from him of £l. And in thanking the said gentleman on his behalf, I may add that no other citizen has responded to Mr. Buchanan’s closing appeal in that letter—viz, “I am sending my friendly acknowledgments to Mr. Pinchbeck, and I hope others will do the same. I shall be proud to possess some souvenir of so brave and patient a soul.” 1, Redwald-rd., Clapton-park, N.E., 20 Nov. E. H. BRIGHTEN. [Note: The original article, published in The Star on 2nd. November, 1895 (p.2) is available below.] |
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[When Buchanan’s play, The New Don Quixote was refused a licence by the Lord Chamberlain he wrote a letter to The Observer, which was printed on 15th December, 1895. Extracts from this letter are available below.]
Edinburgh Evening News (16 December, 1895 - p.3) MR ROBERT BUCHANAN AND THE The Observer publishes from Mr Robert Buchanan an indignant remonstrance against the action of the Lord Chamberlain in refusing to license one of his dramas—“New Don Quixote,” a four-act play. He says: “I have no intention of resting quiescent under the imputations of the Lord Chamberlain, and I shall join issue with that functionary in the manner best fitted to justify me in the eyes of the public. Having been chosen as the scapegoat of my class, I accept the position, not altogether without satisfaction; for the time has come, I believe, when one man’s martyrdom may become the salvation of the English drama.” ___
The Glasgow Herald (16 December, 1895 - p.4) MUSIC AND THE DRAMA. (FROM OUR OWN CORRESPONDENT.) London, Sunday Night. Mr Robert Buchanan has to-day issued a lengthy protest against the new Examiner of Stage Plays. Mr Buchanan states “The New Don Quixote,” a four-act play, “written by myself and another author,” and accepted by Mr Bouchier for production at the Royalty Theatre, has just been returned to the manager with the intimation that it will not be licensed for representation. Mr Buchanan goes on to say that the Lord Chamberlain will take no official knowledge of authors as such, having, of course, to deal solely with theatrical managers, and that the public know his own views on the subject of censorship. He continues:—“The play in question is, I contend, pure and wholesome, though it deals boldly and seriously with some of the great issues of modern life. Its offence, I presume, consists in this, that it is neither trivial nor indecent in the ordinary sense, but that it is fundamentally and not superficially unconventional.” In accordance with custom in such cases, Mr Buchanan, it is understood, proposes to publish his play, when the public will be able to determine for themselves whether the reader of stage-plays or the author is in the right. ___
The Freeman’s Journal (Dublin) (16 December, 1895 - p.5) That stormy petrel of the drama, Mr. Robert Buchanan, has a new grievance against the Lord Chamberlain. He writes an indignant letter to the papers saying—“May I call your attention to the fact that the ‘New Don Quixote’ a four act play written by myself and another author, and accepted by Mr. Bourchier for production at the Royalty Theatre, has just been returned to the manager with the intimation that it will not be licensed for representation. No reason is assigned for this high-handed measure, and the licenser of plays on being appealed to by me to state the nature of the objections refers me to a clause in the Lord Chamberlain’s circular to the effect that the Lord Chamberlain has no official knowledge of ‘authors as such!’ Thus I am not only left under the stigma of having written a play which is unfit to see the light, but I am unable to ascertain in what respect I and my fellow author have offended!” As may be expected, Mr. Robert Buchanan is not going to lie quietly under the slur cast upon him by the Lord Chamberlain. At the same time it is impossible to see what effectual protest he can make, as there is absolutely no appeal from the decision of that functionary. Judging by his letter, the Lord Chamberlain does not merely take exception to any particular passages or scenes in the play, but refuses to license it on general grounds. Mr. Buchanan can, without the licence of the Lord Chamberlain, get the play produced privately at his own expense, but such a proceeding would be costly, and as far as one can see useless. ___
The Sporting Life (18 December, 1895 - p.6) Mr. Redford, the present “Examiner of Plays,” is on his trial—in the Court of Criticism and (to quote from Mr. William Mackay’s brilliant “popular Idol”) the Court of Common Sense. So far, we only know one side of the question, and Mr. Robert Buchanan puts it as follows:— “May I call your attention to the fact that ‘The New Don Quixote,’ a four-act play written by myself and another author, and accepted by Mr. Bourchier for production at the Royalty Theatre, has just been returned to the manager, with the intimation that it will not be licensed for representation. No reason is assigned for this high-handed measure, and the Licenser of Plays on being appealed to by me to state the nature of his objections, refers me to a clause in the Lord Chamberlain’s circular to the effect that the Lord Chamberlain has no official knowledge of ‘authors as such!’ Thus I am not only under the stigma of having written a play which is unfit to see the light, but I am unable to ascertain in what respect I and my fellow-author have offended! My opinions on the subject of the Censorship are well known, and need not be recapitulated here. I know the tyranny under which the English drama struggles to exist, and I know also how indifferent the English public is to all questions which involve the independence of art and artists; but I really did not know that the Lord Chamberlain possessed the power to suppress a play and insult an author without assigning any definite reason. The play in question is, I contend, pure and wholesome, though it deals boldly and seriously with some of the great issues of modern life. Its offence, I presume, consists in this—that it is neither trivial nor indecent in the ordinary sense; but that it is fundamentally, and not superficially, unconventional. I need hardly say that I have no intention of resting quiescent under the imputations of the Lord Chamberlain, and that I shall join issue with that functionary in the manner best fitted to justify me in the eyes of the public. Having been chosen as the scapegoat of my class, I shall accept the position, not altogether without satisfaction; for the time has come, I believe, when one man’s martyrdom may become the salvation of the English drama.” My own opinion of the function which Mr. Redford fulfils is that it is an impertinent and intolerable nuisance, and ought to be swept away. The best Examiner of Plays is the British public. Mr. Buchanan pursues his present crusade against the accident who holds the office, supported by the sympathy of every friend of healthy free trade in dramatic literature. Most of us know no more of Mr. Redford than we do of the wire worker in a puppet show. So far as his performances have gone he has shown, at any rate, than an experience of banking is calculated to make an Examiner of Plays an excessively indulgent censor. Compared with “The Novel Reader,” which was vetoes years ago, there have been plays performed which reduce that production to the level of “Old Mother Hubbard” and “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” Has Mr. Buchanan in “The New Don Quixote” gone one better—or worse—than the authors of the works which bear the Redford stamp of approval? One is reluctant to think so, and yet to what inference is one reduced by Mr. Redford’s autocratic “No?” But there is another point concerning which everybody is agreed. Who is the Lord Chamberlain, and who is his man Friday, that they should decline to give their reasons for refusing to licence “The New Don Quixote.” They are public servants, and paid out of the public purse for what they do. The gentleman in the gallery at the Victoria Theatre was forgiving on the subject of grammar—he did not expect it—but, said he, with a pardonable conviction that he was at least entitled to that for his money—“You might jine your flats.” The Lord Chamberlain and his literary and dramatic adviser might at least be courteous. ___
[After Buchanan had made changes to the play, a licence was granted on 28th December. On 2nd January, 1896, the Pall Mall Gazette published this letter from Robert Buchanan concerning these changes.] Pall Mall Gazette (2 January, 1896 - p.3) “MR. BUCHANAN AND THE CENSOR.” To the EDITOR of the PALL MALL GAZETTE. ___
[Buchanan gave his account of the problems with The New Don Quixote in ‘The Ethics of Play-Licensing’, published in The Theatre on 1st May, 1896.] __________
Glasgow Herald (10 January, 1896 - p.7) OUR LONDON CORRESPONDENCE. 65 FLEET STREET, . . . I UNDERSTAND that two pieces, both by Mr Robert Buchanan, are before Mr Weedon Grossmith, and that one of them will be the next production at the Vaudeville. The comedies are respectively entitled “Good Old Times” and “The Shop Walker.” They are said to be the survivors of nearly 800 plays by various stage aspirants which this unfortunate manager has had to peruse. ___
The Era (11 January, 1896 - p.10) ROBERT BUCHANAN’S PLAYS. TO THE EDITOR OF THE ERA. Sir,—It is an old adage which says that the world knows more of one’s private business than one does oneself, and the truth is illustrated daily by the extraordinary statements of the theatrical gossip-monger. I see it stated in print to-day that Mr Weedon Grossmith will shortly produce one of two plays, the names of which are incorrectly given, “by Mr Buchanan.” May I ask you to state that, up to the time of writing, I have made no arrangement with Mr Grossmith to produce any work whatever, and that, in any case, I am only the part-author of any work which he may have had under consideration. I strongly object to have my business arrangements anticipated by the writers of newspaper paragraphs, and I also strongly object to have my unborn plays christened for me at the font of the Printer’s Devil. ___
The Era (15 February, 1896 - p.13) MR. BUCHANAN PROTESTS. TO THE EDITOR OF THE ERA. Sir,—I had occasion, some weeks ago, to protest in your columns against the conduct of a contemporary, which presumed to label and christen certain works of mine on the eve of production. This week my anonymous assailant returns to the attack, and, in revenge for the rebuke I thought it my duty to administer, prints two statements which are written merely to do me injury. While announcing, in the first place, that a new play by myself and Mr Marlowe will shortly be produced at the Vaudeville, he is careful to add that in April next Messrs Gatti will resume possession of their theatre—in other words, that the new play, however successful it may be, will be dispossessed and compelled to seek another home. I do not know if the writer is authorised by Messrs Gatti to make this announcement, but, in any case, it is premature and in the worst of taste. ___
The Era (14 March, 1896) MR. BUCHANAN AND MR. MURRAY. TO THE EDITOR OF THE ERA. Sir,—The critics have been almost unanimous in the opinion that Mr Robert Buchanan’s “new and original comedy,” now playing at the Vaudeville under the title The Romance of the Shopwalker, is founded on the late Samuel Warren’s “Ten Thousand a-Year.” As a matter of fact Mr Buchanan is indebted to Warren for a solitary episode. The rest of his plot he has lifted bodily from a book of mine called “The Way of the World,” which was published something like a dozen years ago. _____
TO THE EDITOR OF THE ERA. Sir,—Mr David Christie Murray avers that the play The Romance of the Shopwalker, of which I am part-author, and which is now running at the Vaudeville Theatre, is a dramatic version of his novel, “The Way of the World.” Now, suggestions for The Shopwalker were certainly found in the late Samuel Warren’s famous novel, “Ten Thousand a- Year.” I have never read “The Way of the World,” and am therefore unable to discuss it; but if it at all resembles our play it is pretty obvious to what source Mr Murray must have gone for his inspiration. Surely that source was open to all of us, and if Mr Murray could go to it for the theme of his novel, why should we not go to it for the theme of our play? ___
The Era (21 March, 1896) MR. MURRAY AND MR. BUCHANAN. TO THE EDITOR OF THE ERA. Sir,—Mr Robert Buchanan is silent as to the very plain and serious charges I have brought against him. Mr Charles Marlowe’s contention that he has not read my book has no more to do with my accusation than if he were the man in the street. Mr Buchanan has read my book, and years ago suggested to me, through a third person, that he should dramatise it. Mr Marlowe’s pretence that The Romance of the Shopwalker is taken from Warren’s “Ten Thousand a-Year” proves merely that he has not even read the book from which he professes that he and his colleague borrowed their new and original comedy. Their story is not to be found in Warren’s pages. It is, as I have shown already, to be found in mine. _____
TO THE EDITOR OF THE ERA. Sir,—Inasmuch as this matter has become one of a public nature by the publication in The Era of letters from the parties concerned, one of the public may perhaps be allowed to join in the fray. Soon after the production of The Romance of the Shopwalker, I remarked to a friend that the plot was exactly like that of a novel by Mr Murray. Others to whom I have spoken have seen the great likeness between the novel and the play. Mr Charles Marlowe’s weak arguments do not clear the matter up. I agree with him that “suggestions for The Shopwalker were certainly found” in Warren’s novel “Ten Thousand a-Year;” but I do not admit the conclusion implied—that these suggestions were made use of by the authors of the play. The said suggestions are merely indirect and contrary, whereas those offered by Mr Murray’s novel “The Way of the World” are direct. On first reading Mr Murray’s book, I saw a certain likeness between his novel and Warren’s, but that likeness was an artistic and not an actual one. It seemed that whereas Warren showed from an aristocratical point of view a type of man in humble life being raised to a higher position, and put him in a ridiculous light, Murray, urged by a sense of justice, took upon himself the task of showing another side of the picture—how that, though of lowly origin and education, the hero has the instincts of a gentleman. ___
The Era (28 March, 1896) “THE ROMANCE OF THE SHOPWALKER.” TO THE EDITOR OF THE ERA. Sir,—I had not intended to reply at all to Mr David Christie Murray, but to leave the question which he opens to public opinion. Mr Murray’s belligerent attitude, however, leaves me no option. _____
TO THE EDITOR OF THE ERA. Sir,—The letter of Mr David Christie Murray, which appeared in your issue of last week, is really too disingenuous for words, and were I to follow my own inclination I should treat it with the silence that such an effusion deserves. In adopting such a policy, however, I should be accused by that hot-headed gentleman of being unable to answer certain accusations which he has thought fit to make against me, and which, to any unprejudiced person, must appear as discourteous as they are unfounded. _____
THE DEVIL AND THE DRAMATIST. There have been so many spiteful things written about our dramatists and their literature that when a celebrated playwright brings out a serious poem the event should not be allowed to pass without comment as a publication of no importance. Almost simultaneous with the success of The Shopwalker at the Vaudeville has happened the issue from the New Temple Press of a black book called “The Devil’s Case,” by Mr ROBERT BUCHANAN. We must be allowed to disregard the plea which he makes against being judged “line by line,” and we cannot deny ourselves the luxury of a few quotations from so startling a poem. Mr BUCHANAN starts with the assertion that he has interviewed the real Devil. “I, the Interviewer, hated “I, the Interviewer, banished In spite of all tribulations, however, Mr BUCHANAN assures us that he keeps in his possession “Power to stand erect, while cravens Mr BUCHANAN’S interview with the Devil takes place on Hampstead Heath on the evening of August Bank Holiday:— “All that afternoon I’d wandered, “Sad my soul had been among them, “Since my name and fame were lying “Far down westward, over Harrow, Before we come to the interview with the Devil, we are incidentally informed of several facts interesting to all who admire Mr BUCHANAN’S talent and industry as a writer of plays. We learn that, spite of all his slips, he has ever loathed the foul materialistic serpent that surrounds the world; that, from the hour he first remembers, he was gazing at the stars, wondering, dreaming, speculating, and aspiring, and “reaching hands and feeling backward,” to the secret founts of Being. Those happy days soon passed over, and Mr BUCHANAN, so he says, became an eyeless Samson, doing his daily task-work, blind and sad, yet not despairing. Bitterly on that Bank Holiday evening—the “wolf-like creditors” thronging behind him in imagination—with all his load of woes upon him, Mr BUCHANAN bare witness against the Serpent who had made him see and know. “While the moonlight’s tremulous fingers Then, boldly announcing himself as Satan, the old gentleman—it is the “old gentleman”—clutches up Mr BUCHANAN, who clings wildly to the fringe of the Devil’s dark raiment, and is wafted swiftly away. This scene, we are sorry to say, has not been one of those selected by the artist whose exquisitely comic illustrations are the most remarkable things in this very remarkable book. “Though to other generations The “great original” in this case seems to have been SAMUEL WARREN. As regards the MURRAY - BUCHANAN - JAY controversy we must leave opinions to be formed by each of our readers according to his lights and data. Let us hope that in the end all may be satisfactorily explained, and that each of the three laurel-wearers may wander “stainless” and “innocent”—though certainly not “nude.” ___
The Era (4 April, 1896) “THE ROMANCE OF THE SHOPWALKER.” TO THE EDITOR OF THE ERA. Sir,—At last Mr Robert Buchanan has entered the ring. I could ask for nothing better.
[Samuel Warren’s Ten Thousand a-Year and David Christie Murray’s The Way of the World (Vol. 1 and Vol. 3 only) are available at the Internet Archive. The Romance of the Shopwalker was never published. Personally, when first reading the reviews of The Romance of the Shopwalker the first thing I thought of was Kipps by H. G. Wells (to tell the truth it was actually Half a Sixpence with Tommy Steele) but, on checking the dates, that was published in 1905. One wonders where Wells got his idea from. David Christie Murray (1847-1907) was the elder brother of Henry Murray, who had lived for a time in the Buchanan household (and whose suggestion that people would pay good money to see Lily Langtry dance led to their collaboration on A Society Butterfly which was the immediate cause of Buchanan’s bankruptcy in 1894) so he would obviously have been at least a casual acquaintance of both Buchanan and Harriett Jay. He makes no mention of Buchanan in his books, The Making of a Novelist: An Experiment in Autobiography (1894), My Contemporaries in Fiction (1897) or Recollections (1908), but the latter does contain transcripts of two letters from Buchanan, one of which is dated 17th June, 1897 and appears quite friendly in tone, suggesting that whatever animosity was caused by the Shopwalker incident had been forgotten. I came across two items in The Boston Globe from October 1894, concerning David Christie Murray, who was visiting America at the time, which contain brief mentions of Buchanan. The first of these is on the subject of palmistry (!), the second, a review of a public performance by Murray - both are available below.] |
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The Star (13 February, 1896 - p.1) A RHYME FOR THE TIME. [BY ROBERT BUCHANAN.] There was a little Dutchman, and he had a little gun, But to the little Dutchman came flying through the air “For there the great god Jingo has built his proud abodes, “And in the name of Jingo, that god of prayers and shares, “And far away as London there echoes to his call “Beware! lest in the nighttime you find yourself undone!” By nighttime rode the robbers the Dutchman’s land to raid, But round the little Dutchman there rose an armed flock, They whipt the Jingo raiders and they threw them into quod, Cried loudly, as the tempest gather’d over land and sea, The little Dutchman answer’d, with a chuckle and a nod, “Your Bibles and your Charters and your bullion I despise; So, merely to remind you to be careful what you touch, “I’ll put my mark upon you, for the eyes of men to see!” Just a little leaden bullet, from the Dutchman’s little gun, It hurt him very little, but it left him, after all,
[Note: Buchanan’s resopnse to the Jameson Raid and to Afred Austin’s first poem as Poet Laureate, ‘Jameson’s Ride’, which was published in The Times on 11th. January, 1896, and is reproduced below: by Alfred Austin
Wrong! Is it wrong? well, may be; Let lawyers and statesmen addle There are girls in the gold-reef city, So we forded and galloped forward Right sweet is the marksman's rattle, Then we made for the gold-reef city, Not a soul had supped or slumbered I suppose we were wrong, were madmen, —Swinford Old Manor, January 9.] ___
The Star (2 March, 1896 - p.1) “MARCHING TO ITS DOOM.” TO THE EDITOR OF “THE STAR.” SIR,—A very pretty quarrel is just now raging between Mr. Sydney Grundy, who avers that the drama is “marching to its doom” through its respect for first-night quidnuncs and its contempt for the great playgoing public, and Mr. William Archer, who brings statistics to prove that critical opinion as expressed in first-night criticism is not always so mistaken as we may fancy. As a poor, bewildered dramatist of the period, I desire to say a few words on this quæstio vexata. It seems to me, then, that both the dramatist and his critic are right, while both are wrong. It is quite true, as Mr. Grundy says, that dramatists think too much of what individual quidnuncs and critics may say of them; but it is quite untrue to contend that popular opinion is the final criterion of works of art. It is true, as Mr, Archer says, that playgoers have not been altogether indifferent to the standards set up by himself and other lovers of the so-called problem-drama; but it is untrue to suggest that his standards are necessarily those of all intelligent lovers of the stage. The truth of the matter lies between the two opposing statements, or perhaps outside of them. There is just as certain a doom for the dramatist who confides in the good sense of the average playgoer as for the dramatist who dances to the piping of Mr. Archer, or any other self-constituted authority on dramatic productions. Plays do not now succeed, perhaps they never did succeed, on their merits. It is generally some peculiarity in a picce, some curious and extraneous attraction, some fascinating bit of acting, some appeal to popular fancy or prejudice, which attracts the public. The play as a play is usually a minor matter, and though it be as good as gold, it will fail if it does not tickle the humor of a mass of spectators nightly. No matter how absurd or how banal a play may be, it will find audiences, if it is sufficiently vigorous and unintelligent. Cases of huge success may be cited in “The Sign of the Cross,” and “One of the Best,” both so radically absurd and worthless, yet both so in harmony with popular superstition and uninstruction. The dramatist has to cater for the mob, and the mob—Mr, Grundy’s Public—does not want to think. A drama with “Dr. Jim” for its hero, or a Salvationist rendering of the Passion-Play, would fill any theatre nightly for months to come. The question, then, for the dramatist to decide is whether he will shout with the public and cater for the million, or whether he will accept martyrdom by going his own way. So far the truth is with Mr. Archer, but when Mr. Archer informs me that the plays dear to his heart would be also dear to the public, if they got a fair chance, I join issue with him at once. To begin with, I think his estimate of dramatic works is frequently to be taken cum grano salis. I cordially agree with him when he contends that Ibsen’s “Little Eyolf” is full of profound human insight, despite its manifold literary imperfections; but I shrug my shoulders when he tells me that there is either insight or beauty, dramatic or literary power, in such pieces as “The Benefit of the Doubt” and “Michael and his Lost Angel.” Neither of these plays failed because it was above the popular taste; both were moribund because they tried to reconcile a blundering attempt at psychology with a coarse appeal to the mob. “The Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith,” again, gained such vogue as it had by one scene of the sublimest clap-trap, as ridiculous in its way as the “Salvationist orgies,” as Mr. Archer calls them, of Mr. Wilson Barrett. In short, Mr. Archer’s swans are too frequently geese. He is far too easily persuaded that a work which is superficially unconventional is not fundamentally unsound and insincere. The real and absolute truth is, however, that the Doomsman of the Drama is neither the Critic, who is generally over-kind, nor the Public, which is always childlike and uninstructed, but the man who stands timidly between both and the Dramatist—i.e., the modern Manager, so eager to rush to conclusions, so incapable of acting on his own opinion. Just now, the Manager is being assured on every hand, and by Mr. Grundy among others, that the public don’t want “problems,” don’t want thoughtful plays, don’t want literature, and that the true artificer and popular success is not the dramatist who thinks for himself, but the playwright who shouts with the crowd. He does not pause to reflect that the failure of certain plays was due less to their merits than to their absurdities. He sees Mr. Jones’s last piece summarily ejected from the Lyceum. It never occurs to him that the cause may have been the Manager’s timidity, or the weakness of the play itself; he at once rushes to the conclusion—“this is a problem-play, and the public won’t have problem-plays.” Just in the same way, when a bad poem is done on the stage, and fails, there is a conclusion in the managerial mind that people detest stage-poems. The sum of the whole matter, so far as it concerns playwriting, is very simple. The Dramatist must go on his own way, and listen to neither the clamors of the Public nor the promptings of the Critic. His real foes are the Lacquey who licenses dramatic works and the Entrepreneur who produces them. He will find, as I have done, that he is not his own master, and that the work in which he most believes will scarcely find a market, while the work he does to “boil the pot” is eagerly in demand. Then the sapient Critics will tell him, as they have told me, that he panders to popular taste and is old-fashioned, the real truth being that it is almost impossible to get works of real originality produced at all. During the past year my record in the theatre has consisted of two pieces of harmless tomfoolery, while the one serious work which has been accepted by a manager has been condemned by the Lacquey in Absolution as immoral, and is even now struggling in the strangler’s coils. The ways of the modern Dramatist are not easy, but they would be infinitely more difficult if the world were to listen to Mr. Grundy. Much as I disagree on particular points with Mr. Archer, I am quite sure he is right in one respect—that the English Drama, under the present conditions of providential supervision and empirical management, does not get a fair chance, and that it will “march to its doom” indeed if mob suffrage and not intellectual sympathy is to decide its future.—Yours, &c., 1 March. ROBERT BUCHANAN. __________
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