212 The Dramatic Monopoly. [FEB. 



sion the least possible interference for themselves ; consequently for the 

 public and the artists, the least possible competition. The seasons of 

 the first two are by this contract limited to nine months each, that of 

 the Haymarket to four months, and that of the English Opera House to 

 six ; thus amounting in effect to two houses open for eleven months 

 each in the year, for the exclusive performance of tragedies and come- 

 dies, and another open for six months for the performance of opera and 

 melodrama. The actors of the larger houses are those, with very few 

 exceptions, employed at the two smaller ones ; so that hitherto, at least, 

 scarcely more than two companies have been lawfully exercising their 

 art in this vast area the only part of the British dominions capable of 

 affording an adequate remuneration to the highest attainments in the 

 art. 



But, lest this competition should allow too great latitude for the 

 demands of artists, another very natural combination has ever and anon 

 been resorted to ; to limit the salaries at each house by a fixed scale, 

 with a stipulation that the actor refusing the terms offered by one, 

 should not exercise his trade at the other for one whole year after such 

 refusal. This regulation, has, of course, sometimes been enforced and 

 sometimes broken through, as imagined temporary interests of the 

 ephemeral managements have prompted the one course or the other ; 

 but it has been frequently acted upon, and its spirit is a consequence of 

 monopoly far too natural to be long in abeyance. 



It is necessary too, that the physical endowments of actors should fit 

 the monstrous arenas in which they are to be exhibited. By virtue (or 

 by vice) of the patents, there is neither beauty, grace, nor expression, 

 in any delicate organization. A whisper must be given in the under- 

 tone of a speaking-trumpet. The silent anger of the eye and mouth 

 might be discerned by the first row of the pit, but the galleries would 

 infinitely prefer the dignified demonstration of a knock-down blow. 

 Passion must lose its very class and kind in the exaggeration with 

 which it must be notified and proclaimed. Tenderness must be voci- 

 ferous, and melancholy uproarious. If any one doubts, let him care- 

 fully read any of our stock-plays with a view to the discrimination of 

 their various feelings, and then take a peep at the stage -versions. It 

 is not the fault of the performers, or the audience ; it is the size of the 

 theatres. It would, however, be no dishonest or unfitting occupation 

 for a critic, to take a view of the most popular performances of the 

 English stage, with reference to their intrinsic merits as opposed to 

 these accidents. 



We put it to the performers of the greater houses, whether they con- 

 sider it worthy of their station, in their art, to suffer this question to be 

 exclusively agitated, and probably settled, by those minor actors, into 

 whose hands chance and oppression have at the moment thrown it. 

 Have they no interest in the honest settlement of this matter upon a 

 fair, liberal, and permanent basis ? We are far too deeply impressed 

 with the high merits of many of them, to imagine that any alteration 

 which can tend to the benefit of their profession at large, must not bear 

 them on still in the vanward to reap the advantages, though their own 

 inactivity may deny them the fame. Surely an entire body, esteemed 

 by the nation at large, and cherished by those who appreciate their art, 

 need not fear the unpopular authority of two corporations, whose every 

 act is but a step nearer to their own fall. If by one gracious and 



