Author's Apology - Page 2

vast Guignol Theatre open for nearly half a century,
not as a Russian, but as a highly domesticated German lady whose
household routine was not at all so unlike that of Queen Victoria
as might be expected from the difference in their notions of
propriety in sexual relations.

In short, if Byron leaves you with an impression that he said
very little about Catherine, and that little not what was best
worth saying, I beg to correct your impression by assuring you
that what Byron said was all there really is to say that is worth
saying. His Catherine is my Catherine and everybody's Catherine.
The young man who gains her favor is a Spanish nobleman in his
version. I have made him an English country gentleman, who gets
out of his rather dangerous scrape, by simplicity, sincerity, and
the courage of these qualities. By this I have given some offence
to the many Britons who see themselves as heroes: what they mean
by heroes being theatrical snobs of superhuman pretensions which,
though quite groundless, are admitted with awe by the rest of the
human race. They say I think an Englishman a fool. When I do,
they have themselves to thank.

I must not, however, pretend that historical portraiture was the
motive of a play that will leave the reader as ignorant of
Russian history as he may be now before he has turned the page.
Nor is the sketch of Catherine complete even idiosyncratically,
leaving her politics out of the question. For example, she wrote
bushels of plays. I confess I have not yet read any of them. The
truth is, this play grew out of the relations which inevitably
exist in the theatre between authors and actors. If the actors
have sometimes to use their skill as the author's puppets rather
than in full self-expression, the author has sometimes to use his
skill as the actors' tailor, fitting them with parts written to
display the virtuosity of the performer rather than to solve
problems of life, character, or history. Feats of this kind may
tickle an author's technical vanity; but he is bound on such
occasions to admit that the performer for whom he writes is "the
onlie begetter" of his work, which must be regarded critically as
an addition to the debt dramatic literature owes to the art of
acting and its exponents. Those who have seen Miss Gertrude
Kingston play the part of Catherine will have no difficulty in
believing that it was her talent rather than mine that brought
the play into existence. I once recommended Miss Kingston
professionally to play queens. Now in the modern drama there were
no queens for her to play; and as to the older literature of our
stage: did it not provoke the veteran actress in Sir Arthur
Pinero's Trelawny of the Wells to declare that, as parts,