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In spite of the antipathy which is aroused, “The Cherry Orchard” is quite inoffensive.  For example, there is nothing in it to which the Censor could possibly object.  It does not deal specially with sex.  It presents an average picture of Russian society.  But it presents the picture with such exact, uncompromising truthfulness that the members of the Stage Society mistook nearly all the portraits for caricatures, and tedious caricatures.  In naturalism the play is assuredly an advance on any other play that I have seen or that has been seen in England.  Its naturalism is positively daring.  The author never hesitates to make his personages as ridiculous as in life they would be.  In this he differs from every other playwright that I know of.  Ibsen, for instance; and Henri Becque.  He has carried an artistic convention much nearer to reality, and achieved another step in the evolution of the drama.  The consequence is that he is accused of untruth and exaggeration, as Becque was, as Ibsen was.  His truthfulness frightens, and causes resentment.

* * * * *

People say:  “No such persons exist, or at any rate such persons are too exceptional to form proper material for a work of art.”  No such persons, I admit, exist in England; but then this play happens to be concerned with Russia, and even the men’s costumes in it are appalling.  Moreover, persons equally ridiculous and futile do exist in England, and by the hundred thousand; only they are ridiculous and futile in ways familiar to us.  I guarantee that if any ten average members of the august Stage Society itself were faithfully portrayed on the stage, with all their mannerisms, absurdities, and futilities, the resulting picture would be damned as a gross and offensive caricature.  People never look properly at people; people take people for granted; they remain blind to the facts; and when an artist comes along and discloses more of these facts than it is usual to disclose, of course there is a row.  This row is a fine thing; it means that something has been done.  And I hope that the directors of the Stage Society are proud of the reception of “The Cherry Orchard.”  They ought to be.

SEA AND SLAUGHTER

[6 July ’11]

Recent spectacular events at Court have been the cause of a considerable amount of verse, indifferent or offensive.  But it is to be noticed that the poets of this realm have not been inspired by the said events.  I mean such writers as W.B.  Yeats, Robert Bridges, Lord Alfred Douglas, W.H.  Davies.  And yet I see no reason why a Coronation, even in this day of figure-heads and revolting snobbery, should not be the subject of a good poem—­a poem which would not be afflicting to read, either for the lettered public or for the chief actor in the scene.  However, the time for such poems has apparently not yet arrived.