by H G Wells

--you shall hear immediately why not now--Egbert Craddock Cummins The name remains still (Heaven help me ! ) Dramatic Critic Fiery Cross What in little while know I write in great trouble and confusion of mind do what myself clear face of terrible difficulties bear with me little When man is rapidly losing his own identity, he naturally finds difficulty in expressing himself make it perfectly plain in minute, when once I get my grip story Let me see--where _am I ? Ah, it ! Dead self ! Egbert Craddock Cummins !

disliked writing anything quite so full of "I" story full of "I's" before and behind, like the beast in Revelation--the one with head like calf, afraid But my tastes have changed since I became Dramatic Critic and studied the masters--G . S , G B S , G R S , others Everything has changed since then the story is about myself--so some excuse And really not egotism, because, as , since those days my identity has undergone an entire alteration

That past ! . --in those days--rather nice fellow, rather shy-- taste for grey in my clothes, weedy little moustache, face "interesting," slight stutter which I had caught in my early life from schoolfellow Engaged to very nice girl, named Delia Fairly new, she was-- cigarettes--liked me because human and original Considered like Lamb-- strength stutter, I believe Father, an eminent authority on postage stamps She read great deal British Museum (A perfect pairing ground for literary people, that British Museum-- read George Egerton and Justin Huntly M'Carthy and Gissing rest ) We loved intellectual way, and shared the brightest hopes (All gone now ) And her father liked me because I seemed honestly eager to hear about stamps She had no mother Indeed, I had the happiest prospects young man I never went to theatres in those days My Aunt Charlotte before she died had told me not to

Then Barnaby, the editor Fiery Cross_, made me-- spasmodic efforts to escape--Dramatic Critic fine, healthy man, Barnaby, with an enormous head of frizzy black hair and convincing manner, and he caught me staircase going Wembly He dining, and was more than usually buoyant "Hullo, Cummins ! " "The very man ! " He caught me shoulder or the collar or something, ran me up the little passage, and flung me over the waste-paper basket arm-chair office "Pray be seated," , as so Then he ran across the room and came back with some pink and yellow tickets and pushed them into my hand "Opera Comique," , "Thursday; Friday, the Surrey; Saturday, the Frivolity That's all, "

"But--" I began

"Glad you're free," , snatching some proofs off the desk and beginning to read

"I don't quite understand,"

"_Eigh ? " , top voice, he thought I had gone and was startled at my remark

" me to criticise these plays ? "

"Do something with 'em . Did treat ? "

"But 't "

"Did you call me fool ? "

"Well, I've never been to theatre in my life "

"Virgin soil "

"But I don't know anything , "

"That's just it New view No habits No clichs in stock Ours is live paper, not bag of tricks None of your clockwork professional journalism office And rely integrity----"

"But I've conscientious scruples----"

He caught me up suddenly and put me outside his door "Go and talk to Wembly ," "He'll explain "

As I stood perplexed, he opened the door again, said, "I forgot this," thrust fourth ticket into my hand ( night--in twenty minutes' time) and slammed the door upon me His expression was quite calm, but I caught his eye

I hate arguments I decided that take his hint and become (to my own destruction) Dramatic Critic I walked slowly down the passage to Wembly That Barnaby has remarkable persuasive way He few suggestions during our very pleasant intercourse of four years that he ultimately won me round to adopting It , , that of yielding disposition; certainly too apt my colour from my circumstances , indeed, to my unfortunate susceptibility to vivid impressions that all my misfortunes are due already alluded slight stammer I had acquired from schoolfellow in my youth However, digression . I went home in cab to dress

trouble the reader with my thoughts first-night audience, strange assembly ,--those I reserve Memoirs,--nor the humiliating story of how I got lost during the entr'acte in lot of red plush passages, and saw the third act gallery The only point to lay stress remarkable effect acting upon me remember I had lived quiet and retired life, and had never been theatre before, extremely sensitive to vivid impressions risk of repetition insist upon these points

The first effect was profound amazement, not untinctured by alarm The phenomenal unnaturalness of acting is thing discounted minds of most people by early visits theatre They get used fantastic gestures, the flamboyant emotions, the weird mouthings, melodious snortings, agonising yelps, lip-gnawings, glaring horrors, and other emotional symbolism stage It becomes at last mere deaf-and-dumb language , which they read intelligently pari passu hearing dialogue But all new The thing was called modern comedy, the people were supposed English and were dressed like fashionable Americans current epoch, and I fell natural error of supposing actors were trying to represent human beings I looked round on my first-night audience with kind of wonder, discovered--as all new Dramatic Critics do-- rested with me to reform the Drama, and, after supper choked with emotion, went off office to write column, piebald with "new paragraphs" (as all my stuff is--it fills out so) and purple with indignation Barnaby was delighted

But sleep that night I dreamt of actors--actors glaring, actors smiting their chests, actors flinging out handful of extended fingers, actors smiling bitterly, laughing despairingly, falling hopelessly, dying idiotically I got up at eleven with slight headache, read my notice Fiery Cross_, breakfasted, and went back to my room to shave, (It's my habit ) Then an odd thing happened find my razor Suddenly it occurred that I unpacked it the day before

"Ah ! " said I, in front looking-glass Then "Hullo ! "

Quite involuntarily, when I had thought portmanteau, I had flung up the left arm (fingers fully extended) and clutched at my diaphragm with my right hand an acutely self-conscious man at all times The gesture struck me as absolutely novel I repeated it, own satisfaction "Odd ! " Then (rather puzzled) I turned to my portmanteau

After shaving, my mind reverted acting I had seen, and I entertained myself cheval glass with some imitations of Jafferay's more exaggerated gestures "Really, one might think it disease," --"Stage-Walkitis ! " (There's many truth spoken in jest ) Then, if I remember rightly, I went off Wembly, and afterwards lunched British Museum with Delia We actually spoke about our prospects, light new appointment