To sum up. For the first time in the history of our stage the theatre is put under the management of a literary director, presumably with a view to bringing scholarly intelligence to bear upon the exponents of drama; but the result to the public, in so far as "King Lear" is concerned, is that it gets quite the most chaotic interpretation of the poet's work that it has ever been my misfortune to see represented on the stage. What is the reason? Has the director, like the fly, walked into the spider's parlour, or, in other words, into the network of theatrical commercialism, to find his artistic soul silenced and himself bound? Time perhaps will show us! IV THE NATIONAL THEATRE THE REPERTORY THEATRE. THE ELIZABETHAN STAGE SOCIETY. SHAKESPEARE AT EARL'S COURT. THE STUDENTS' THEATRE. THE MEMORIAL SCHEME. IV A NATIONAL THEATRE THE REPERTORY THEATRE.[14] The anxiety of dramatic critics to explain "the scant success" of Mr. Frohman's Repertory Theatre has created a large amount of paper argument, of more or less doubtful value, and now Mr. William Archer has added his view to that of others, and concludes his remarks with some practical advice to those who, in his opinion, are entitled to be regarded as "some of our ablest dramatists." The nature of this advice, however, is not only curious, but startling, when we recall the reception that was given to Ibsen's plays on their first appearance in this country, and remember that Mr. Archer was their warmest defender. Regardless of this defence, he now contends that "it is a grave misfortune for any writer, but it is a disaster for the dramatist, to get into the habit of despising popular taste and thinking that he has only himself to please in his writings."[15] But those who take their dramatic art seriously, and who wish their plays to have more than an ephemeral existence, cannot possibly accept this advice. They will recognize that the highest aim of a dramatist is to create a work valuable for all time, and that the most intimate knowledge of the moods and vagaries of playgoers cannot outweigh the smallest fault in the art of dramatic construction or character drawing. The conscientious artist repudiates the interference of public opinion with the expression of his art; he does not try to follow popular taste, but seeks to control and direct it. "The public," says George Sand, "is no artist; I will not tell you that we must please it, but we must win it. It winces, but gets over it." This is the advice Mr. Archer should have tendered to English playwrights, and let us hope it is the advice he meant to tender them. Nature has nowhere resigned her prerogative to the demands of popular taste, nor should the artist abandon his privileges. There is no record of a poet or musician having created a masterpiece through pandering to the "groundlings." Mozart, on completing an opera, would say: "I shall gain but little by this, but I have pleased myself,