Many people object altogether to children appearing on the stage; it is said to be bad for their morals as well as for their health.  A letter which Mr. Dodgson once wrote in the St. James’s Gazette contains a sufficient refutation of the latter fancy:—­

I spent yesterday afternoon at Brighton, where for five hours I enjoyed the society of three exceedingly happy and healthy little girls, aged twelve, ten, and seven.  I think that any one who could have seen the vigour of life in those three children—­the intensity with which they enjoyed everything, great or small, that came in their way—­who could have watched the younger two running races on the Pier, or have heard the fervent exclamation of the eldest at the end of the afternoon, “We have enjoyed ourselves!” would have agreed with me that here, at least, there was no excessive “physical strain,” nor any imminent danger of “fatal results”!  A drama, written by Mr. Savile Clarke, is now being played at Brighton, and in this (it is called “Alice in Wonderland”) all three children have been engaged.  They had been acting every night this week, and twice on the day before I met them, the second performance lasting till half-past ten at night, after which they got up at seven next morning to bathe!  That such (apparently) severe work should co-exist with blooming health and buoyant spirits seems at first sight a paradox; but I appeal to any one who has ever worked con amore at any subject whatever to support me in the assertion that, when you really love the subject you are working at, the “physical strain” is absolutely nil; it is only when working “against the grain” that any strain is felt, and I believe the apparent paradox is to be explained by the fact that a taste for acting is one of the strongest passions of human nature, that stage-children show it nearly from infancy, and that, instead of being miserable drudges who ought to be celebrated in a new “Cry of the Children,” they simply rejoice in their work “even as a giant rejoiceth to run his course.”

Mr. Dodgson’s general views on the mission of the drama are well shown by an extract from a circular which he sent to many of his friends in 1882:—­

    The stage (as every playgoer can testify) is an engine of
    incalculable power for influencing society; and every effort
    to purify and ennoble its aims seems to me to deserve all
    the countenance that the great, and all the material help
    that the wealthy, can give it; while even those who are
    neither great nor wealthy may yet do their part, and help
    to—­
      “Ring out the darkness of the land,
       Ring in the Christ that is to be.”

[Illustration:  Ellen Terry. From a photograph by Lewis Carroll.]

I do not know if Mr. Dodgson’s suggested amendment of some lines in the “Merchant of Venice” was ever carried out, but it further illustrates the serious view he took of this subject.  The hint occurs in a letter to Miss Ellen Terry, which runs as follows:—­