that we understood Welsh. Her dialogue and her song were most pleasing
bits of artistic realism which fully accounted for the Celtic chair at
Oxford.

But though I have mentioned particular actors, the real value of the
whole representation was to be found in its absolute unity, in its
delicate sense of proportion, and in that breadth of effect which is to
be got only by the most careful elaboration of detail. I have rarely
seen a production better stage-managed. Indeed, I hope that the
University will take some official notice of this delightful work of art.
Why should not degrees be granted for good acting? Are they not given to
those who misunderstand Plato and who mistranslate Aristotle? And should
the artist be passed over? No. To Prince Hal, Hotspur and Falstaff,
D.C.L.'s should be gracefully offered. I feel sure they would be
gracefully accepted. To the rest of the company the crimson or the sheep-
skin hood might be assigned honoris causa to the eternal confusion of the
Philistine, and the rage of the industrious and the dull. Thus would
Oxford confer honour on herself, and the artist be placed in his proper
position. However, whether or not Convocation recognises the claims of
culture, I hope that the Oxford Dramatic Society will produce every
summer for us some noble play like Henry IV. For, in plays of this kind,
plays which deal with bygone times, there is always this peculiar charm,
that they combine in one exquisite presentation the passions that are
living with the picturesqueness that is dead. And when we have the
modern spirit given to us in an antique form, the very remoteness of that
form can be made a method of increased realism. This was Shakespeare's
own attitude towards the ancient world, this is the attitude we in this
century should adopt towards his plays, and with a feeling akin to this
it seemed to me that these brilliant young Oxonians were working. If it
was so, their aim is the right one. For while we look to the dramatist