appearance； but the stage peasant seems to spend all his wages on soap
and hair…oil。
They are always round the corneror rather round the two corners
and they come on in a couple of streams and meet in the center； and when
they are in their proper position they smile。
There is nothing like the stage peasants' smile in this worldnothing
so perfectly inane； so calmly imbecile。
They are so happy。 They don't look it； but we know they are because
they say so。 If you don't believe them； they dance three steps to the right
and three steps to the left back again。 They can't help it。 It is because
they are so happy。
When they are more than usually rollicking they stand in a semicircle；
with their hands on each other's shoulders； and sway from side to side；
trying to make themselves sick。 But this is only when they are simply
bursting with joy。
Stage peasants never have any work to do。
Sometimes we see them going to work； sometimes coming home from
work； but nobody has ever seen them actually at work。 They could not
afford to workit would spoil their clothes。
They are very sympathetic； are stage peasants。 They never seem to
have any affairs of their own to think about； but they make up for this by
taking a three…hundred…horse…power interest in things in which they have
no earthly concern。
What particularly rouses them is the heroine's love affairs。 They
could listen to them all day。
They yearn to hear what she said to him and to be told what he replied
to her； and they repeat it to each other。
In our own love…sick days we often used to go and relate to various
people all the touching conversations that took place between our lady…
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love and ourselves； but our friends never seemed to get excited over it。
On the contrary； a casual observer might even have been led to the idea
that they were bored by our recital。 And they had trains to catch and men
to meet before we had got a quarter through the job。
Ah； how often in those days have we yearned for the sympathy of a
stage peasantry； who would have crowded round us； eager not to miss one
word of the thrilling narrative； who would have rejoiced with us with an
encouraging laugh； and have condoled with us with a grieved 〃Oh；〃 and
who would have gone off； when we had had enough of them； singing
about it。
By the way； this is a very beautiful trait in the character of the stage
peasantry； their prompt and unquestioning compliance with the slightest
wish of any of the principals。
〃Leave me； friends；〃 says the heroine； beginning to make preparations
for weeping； and before she can turn round they are clean goneone lot to
the right； evidently making for the back entrance of the public…house； and
the other half to the left； where they visibly hide themselves behind the
pump and wait till somebody else wants them。
The stage peasantry do not talk much； their strong point being to listen。
When they cannot get any more information about the state of the
heroine's heart； they like to be told long and complicated stories about
wrongs done years ago to people that they never heard of。 They seem to
be able to grasp and understand these stories with ease。 This makes the
audience envious of them。
When the stage peasantry do talk； however； they soon make up for lost
time。 They start off all together with a suddenness that nearly knocks
you over。
They all talk。 Nobody listens。 Watch any two of them。 They are
both talking as hard as they can go。 They have been listening quite
enough to other people： you can't expect them to listen to each other。
But the conversation under such conditions must be very trying。
And then they flirt so sweetly！ so idyllicly！
It has been our privilege to see real peasantry flirt； and it has always
struck us as a singularly solid and substantial affairmakes one think；
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STAGE…LAND。
somehow； of a steam…roller flirting with a cowbut on the stage it is so
sylph…like。 She has short skirts； and her stockings are so much tidier and
better fitting than these things are in real peasant life； and she is arch and
coy。 She turns away from him and laughssuch a silvery laugh。 And
he is ruddy and curly haired and has on such a beautiful waistcoat！ how
can she help but love him？ And he is so tender and devoted and holds
her by the waist； and she slips round and comes up the other side。 Oh； it
is so bewitching！
The stage peasantry like to do their love…making as much in public as
possible。 Some people fancy a place all to themselves for this sort of
thingwhere nobody else is about。 We ourselves do。 But the stage
peasant is more sociably inclined。 Give him the village green； just
outside the public…house； or the square on market…day to do his spooning
in。
They are very faithful； are stage peasants。 No jilting； no fickleness；
no breach of promise。 If the gentleman in pink walks out with the lady in
blue in the first act； pink and blue will be married in the end。 He sticks to
her all through and she sticks to him。
Girls in yellow may come and go； girls in green may laugh and dance…
…the gentleman in pink heeds them not。 Blue is his color； and he never
leaves it。 He stands beside it； he sits beside it。 He drinks with her； he
smiles with her； he laughs with her； he dances with her； he comes on with
her； he goes off with her。
When the time comes for talking he talks to her and only her； and she
talks to him and only him。 Thus there is no jealousy； no quarreling。 But
we should prefer an occasional change ourselves。
There are no married people in stage villages and no children
（consequently； of course…happy village！ oh； to discover it and spend a
month there！）。 There are just the same number of men as there are
women in all stage villages； and they are all about the same age and each
young man loves some young woman。 But they never marry。
They talk a lot about it； but they never do it。 The artful beggars！
They see too much what it's like among the principals。
The stage peasant is fond of drinking； and when he drinks he likes to
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STAGE…LAND。
let you know he is drinking。 None of your quiet half…pint inside the bar
for him。 He likes to come out in the street and sing about it and do tricks
with it； such as turning it topsy…turvy over his head。
Notwithstanding all this he is moderate； mind you。 You can't say he
takes too much。 One small jug of ale among forty is his usual allowance。
He has a keen sense of humor and is easily amused。 There is
something almost pathetic about the way he goes into convulsions of
laughter over such very small jokes。 How a man like that would enjoy a
real joke！ One day he will perhaps hear a real joke。 Who knows？ It
will； however； probably kill him。 One grows to love the stage peasant
after awhile。 He is so good； so child…like； so unworldly。 He realizes
one's ideal of Christianity。
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STAGE…LAND。
THE GOOD OLD MAN。
He has lost his wife。 But he knows where she isamong the angels！
She isn't all gone； because the heroine has her hair。 〃Ah； you've got
your mother's hair；〃 says the good old man； feeling the girl's head all over
as she kneels beside him。 Then they all wipe away a tear。
The people on the stage think very highly of the good old man； but
they don't encourage him much after the first act。 He generally dies in
the first act。
If he does not seem likely to die they murder him。
He is a most unfortunate old gentleman。 Anything he is mixed up in
seems bound to go wrong。 If he is manager or director of a bank； smash
it goes before even one act is over。 His particular firm is always on the
verge of bankruptcy。 We have only to be told that he has put all his
savings into a companyno matter how sound and promising an affair it
may always have been and may still seemto know that that company is a
〃goner。〃
No power on earth can save it after once the good old man has become
a shareholder。
If we lived in stage…land and were asked to join any financial scheme；
our first question would be：
〃Is the good old man in it？〃 If so； that would decide us。
When the good old man is a trustee for any one he can battle against
adversity much longer。
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