The performance was not quite over; but before Archie had paid the hansomeer, the audience was streaming out from every door.
“Stand here and listen to what the people are saying.” whispered Archie. “I often do it. It is only in this way that you can learn how much appreciation for Shakespeare still remains in England.”
He took up his position with Harold at the foot of the splendid staircase of the theatre, where the people chatted together while waiting for their carriages.
With scarcely an exception, the remarks had a hearing upon the performance of “Cymbeline.” Only two ladies confined their criticisms to their respective medical advisers.
Of the others, one man said that Mrs. Mowbray bore a striking resemblance to her photographs.
A second said that she was the most beautiful woman in England.
A third said that she knocked sparks out of Polly Floss in the same line of business. (Polly Floss was the leading exponent of burlesque).
One woman said that Mrs. Mowbray was most picturesquely dressed.
A second said that she was most picturesquely undressed.
A third wondered if Liberty had got the exact tint of the robe that Mrs. Mowbray had worn in the second act.
“And yet some people say that there’s no appreciation of Shakespeare in England!” said Archie, as he led Harold round the stalls, over which the attendants were spreading covers, and on to Mrs. Mowbray’s private rooms.
“From the crowds that went out by every door, I judge that the theatre is making money, at any rate; and I suppose that’s the most practical test of appreciation,” said Harold.
“Oh, they don’t all pay,” said Archie. “That’s a feature of theatrical management that it takes an outsider some time to understand. Mrs. Mowbray should understand it pretty well by this time, so should her business manager. I’m just getting to understand it.”
“You mean to say that the people are allowed to come in without paying?”
“It amounts to that in the long run--literally the long run--of the piece, I believe. Upon my soul, there are some people who fancy that a chap runs a show as a sort of free entertainment for the public. The dramatic critics seem to fancy that a chap produces a play, simply in order to give them an opportunity of showing off their own cleverness in slating it. It seems that a writer-chap can’t show his cleverness in praising a piece, but only in slanging it.”