,,play-,,making ,a ,manual of ,craftsmanship by ,william ,archer #aiab ,,prefatory ,,note ,this book is1 to all intents and purposes1 entirely new4 ,no considerable portion of it has already appeared1 although here and there short passages and phrases from articles of bygone years are embedded --indistinguishably1 ,i hope--in the text4 ,i have tried1 wherever it was possible1 to select my examples from published plays1 which the student may read for himself1 and so check my observations4 ,one reason1 among others1 which led me to go to ,shakespeare and ,ibsen for so many of my illustrations1 was that they are the most generally accessible of playwrights4 ,if the reader should feel that ,i have been over lavish in the use of footnotes1 ,i have two excuses to allege4 ,the first is that more than half of the following chapters were written on shipboard and in places where ,i had scarcely any books to refer to2 so that a great deal had to be left to subsequent enquiry and revision4 ,the second is that several of my friends1 dramatists and others1 have been kind enough to read my manuscript1 and to suggest valuable afterthoughts4 ,,london ,january1 #aiab ,to ,brander ,matthews ,guide ,philosopher and ,friend ,,contents ,,book ,i ,,prologue ,,chapter ,i ,,introductory ,,chapter ,,ii ,,the ,,choice ,,of ,a ,,theme ,,chapter ,,iii ,,dramatic ,,and ,,undramatic ,,chapter ,,iv ,,the ,,routine ,,of ,,composition ,,chapter ,v ,,dramatis ,,personae ,,book ,,ii ,,the ,,beginning ,,chapter ,,vi ,,the ,,point ,,of ,,attack3 ,,shakespeare ,,and ,,ibsen ,,chapter ,,vii ,,exposition3 ,,its ,,end ,,and ,,its ,,means ,,chapter ,,viii ,,the ,,first ,,act ,,chapter ,,ix ,,curiosity ,,and ,,interest ,,chapter ,x ,,foreshadowing1 ,,not ,,forestalling ,,book ,,iii ,,the ,,middle ,,chapter ,,xi ,,tension ,,and ,,its ,,suspension ,,chapter ,,xii ,,preparation3 ,,the ,,finger-,,post ,,chapter ,,xiii ,,the ,,obligatory ,,scene ,,chapter ,,xiv ,,the ,,peripety ,,chapter ,,xv ,,probability1 ,,chance ,,and ,,coincidence ,,chapter ,,xvi ,,logic ,,chapter ,,xvii ,,keeping ,a ,,secret ,,book ,,iv ,,the ,,end ,,chapter ,,xviii ,,climax ,,and ,,anticlimax ,,chapter ,,xix ,,conversion ,,chapter ,,xx ,,blind-,,alley ,,themes--,,and ,,others ,,chapter ,,xxi ,,the ,,full ,,close ,,book ,v ,,epilogue ,,chapter ,,xxii ,,character ,,and ,,psychology ,,chapter ,,xxiii ,,dialogue ,,and ,,details ,,book ,i ,,prologue ,,chapter ,i ,,introductory ,there are no rules for writing a play4 ,it is easy1 indeed1 to lay down negative recommendations--to instruct the beginner how not to do it4 ,but most of these don'ts are rather obvious2 and those which are not obvious are apt to be questionable4 ,it is certain1 for instance1 that if you want your play to be acted1 anywhere else than in ,china1 you must not plan it in sixteen acts of an hour apiece2 but where is the tyro who needs a text-book to tell him that8 ,on the other hand1 most theorists of to-day would make it an axiom that you must not let your characters narrate their circumstances1 or expound their motives1 in speeches addressed1 either directly to the audience1 or ostensibly to their solitary selves4 ,but when we remember that1 of all dramatic openings1 there is none finer than that which shows ,richard ,plantagenet limping down the empty stage to say-- ,now is the winter of our discontent ,made glorious summer by this sun of ,york2 ,and all the clouds that lour'd upon our house ,in the deep bosom of the ocean buried-- we feel that the axiom requires large qualifications4 ,there are no absolute rules1 in fact1 except such as are dictated by the plainest common sense4 ,aristotle himself did not so much dogmatize as analyse1 classify1 and generalize from1 the practices of the ,attic dramatists4 ,he said1 you had better rather than you must4 ,it was ,horace1 in an age of deep dramatic decadence1 who re-stated the pseudo-,aristotelian formulas of the ,alexandrians as though they were unassailable dogmas of art4 ,how comes it1 then1 that there is a constant demand for text-books of the art and craft of drama8 ,how comes it that so many people--and ,i among the number--who could not write a play to save their lives1 are eager to tell others how to do so8 ,and1 stranger still1 how comes it that so many people are willing to sit at the feet of these instructors8 ,it is not so with the novel4 ,popular as is that form of literature1 guides to novel-writing1 if they exist at all1 are comparatively rare4 ,why are people possessed with the idea that the art of dramatic fiction differs from that of narrative fiction1 in that it can and must be taught8 ,the reason is clear1 and is so far valid as to excuse1 if not to justify1 such works as the present4 ,the novel1 as soon as it is legibly written1 exists1 for what it is worth4 ,the page of black and white is the sole intermediary between the creative and the perceptive brain4 ,even the act of printing merely widens the possible appeal3 it does not alter its nature4 ,but the drama1 before it can make its proper appeal at all1 must be run through a highly complex piece of mechanism--the theatre--the precise conditions of which are1 to most beginners1 a fascinating mystery4 ,while they feel a strong inward conviction of their ability to master it1 they are possessed with an idea1 often exaggerated and superstitious1 of its technical complexities4 ,having1 as a rule1 little or no opportunity of closely examining or experimenting with it1 they are eager to read it up1 as they might any other machine4 ,that is the case of the average aspirant1 who has neither the instinct of the theatre fully developed in his blood1 nor such a congenital lack of that instinct as to be wholly inapprehensive of any technical difficulties or problems4 ,the intelligent novice1 standing between these extremes1 tends1 as a rule1 to overrate the efficacy of theoretical instruction1 and to expect of analytic criticism more than it has to give4 ,there is thus a fine opening for pedantry on the one side1 and quackery on the other1 to rush in4 ,the pedant1 in this context1 is he who constructs a set of rules from metaphysical or psychological first principles1 and professes to bring down a dramatic decalogue from the ,sinai of some lecture-room in the ,university of ,weissnichtwo4 ,the quack1 on the other hand1 is he who generalizes from the worst practices of the most vulgar theatrical journeymen1 and has no higher ambition than to interpret the oracles of the box-office4 ,if he succeeded in so doing1 his function would not be wholly despicable2 but as he is generally devoid of insight1 and as1 moreover1 the oracles of the box-office vary from season to season1 if not from month to month1 his lucubrations are about as valuable as those of ,zadkiel or ,old ,moore4#a ,what1 then1 is the excuse for such a discussion as is here attempted8 ,having admitted that there are no rules for dramatic composition1 and that the quest of such rules is apt to result either in pedantry or quackery1 why should ,i myself set forth upon so fruitless and foolhardy an enterprise8 ,it is precisely because ,i am alive to its dangers that ,i have some hope of avoiding them4 ,rules there are none2 but it does not follow that some of the thousands who are fascinated by the art of the playwright may not profit by having their attention called1 in a plain and practical way1 to some of its problems and possibilities4 ,i have myself felt the need of some such handbook1 when would-be dramatists have come to me for advice and guidance4 ,it is easy to name excellent treatises on the drama2 but the aim of such books is to guide the judgment of the critic rather than the creative impulse of the playwright4 ,there are also valuable collections of dramatic criticisms2 but any practical hints that they may contain are scattered and unsystematic4 ,on the other hand1 the advice one is apt to give to beginners--,go to the theatre2 study its conditions and mechanism for yourself--is1 in fact1 of very doubtful value4 ,it might1 in many cases1 be wiser to warn the aspirant to keep himself unspotted from the playhouse4 ,to send him there is to imperil1 on the one hand1 his originality of vision1 on the other1 his individuality of method4 ,he may fall under the influence of some great master1 and see life only through his eyes2 or he may become so habituated to the current tricks of the theatrical trade as to lose all sense of their conventionality and falsity1 and find himself1 in the end1 better fitted to write what ,i have called a quack handbook than a living play4 ,it would be ridiculous1 of course1 to urge an aspirant positively to avoid the theatre2 but the common advice to steep himself in it is beset with dangers4 ,it may be asked why1 if ,i have any guidance and help to give1 ,i do not take it myself1 and write plays instead of instructing others in the art4 ,this is a variant of an ancient and fallacious jibe against criticism in general4 ,it is quite true that almost all critics who are worth their salt are stickit artists4 ,assuredly1 if ,i had the power1 ,i should write plays instead of writing about them2 but one may have a great love for an art1 and some insight into its principles and methods1 without the innate faculty required for actual production4 ,on the other hand1 there is nothing to show that1 if ,i were a creative artist1 ,i should be a good mentor for beginners4 ,an accomplished painter may be the best teacher of painters2 but an accomplished dramatist is scarcely the best guide for dramatists4 ,he cannot analyse his own practice1 and discriminate between that in it which is of universal validity1 and that which may be good for him1 but would be bad for any one else4 ,if he happened to be a great man1 he would inevitably1 even if unconsciously1 seek to impose upon his disciples his individual attitude towards life2 if he were a lesser man1 he would teach them only his tricks4 ,but dramatists do not1 as a matter of fact1 take pupils or write handbooks4#b ,when they expound their principles of art1 it is generally in answer to1 or in anticipation of1 criticism--with a view1 in short1 not to helping others1 but to defending themselves4 ,if beginners1 then1 are to find any systematic guidance1 they must turn to the critics1 not to the dramatists2 and no person of common sense holds it a reproach to a critic to tell him that he is a stickit playwright4 ,if questions are worth discussing at all1 they are worth discussing gravely4 ,when1 in the following pages1 ,i am found treating with all solemnity matters of apparently trivial detail1 ,i beg the reader to believe that very possibly ,i do not in my heart overrate their importance4 ,one thing is certain1 and must be emphasized from the outset3 namely1 that if any part of the dramatist's art can be taught1 it is only a comparatively mechanical and formal part--the art of structure4 ,one may learn how to tell a story in good dramatic form3 how to develop and marshal it in such a way as best to seize and retain the interest of a theatrical audience4 ,but no teaching or study can enable a man to choose or invent a good story1 and much less to do that which alone lends dignity to dramatic story-telling--to observe and portray human character4 ,this is the aim and end of all serious drama2 and it will be apt to appear as though1 in the following pages1 this aim and end were ignored4 ,in reality it is not so4 ,if ,i hold comparatively mechanical questions of pure craftsmanship to be worth discussing1 it is because ,i believe that only by aid of competent craftsmanship can the greatest genius enable his creations to live and breathe upon the stage4 ,the profoundest insight into human nature and destiny cannot find valid expression through the medium of the theatre without some understanding of the peculiar art of dramatic construction4 ,some people are born with such an instinct for this art1 that a very little practice renders them masters of it4 ,some people are born with a hollow in their cranium where the bump of drama ought to be4 ,but between these extremes1 as ,i said before1 there are many people with moderately developed and cultivable faculty2 and it is these who1 ,i trust1 may find some profit in the following discussions4#c ,let them not forget1 however1 that the topics treated of are merely the indispensable rudiments of the art1 and are not for a moment to be mistaken for its ultimate and incommunicable secrets4 ,beethoven could not have composed the ,ninth ,symphony without a mastery of harmony and counterpoint2 but there are thousands of masters of harmony and counterpoint who could not compose the ,ninth ,symphony4 ,the art of theatrical story-telling is necessarily relative to the audience to whom the story is to be told4 ,one must assume an audience of a certain status and characteristics before one can rationally discuss the best methods of appealing to its intelligence and its sympathies4 ,the audience ,i have throughout assumed is drawn from what may be called the ordinary educated public of ,london and ,new ,york4 ,it is not an ideal or a specially selected audience2 but it is somewhat above the average of the theatre-going public1 that average being sadly pulled down by the myriad frequenters of musical farce and absolutely worthless melodrama4 ,it is such an audience as assembles every night at1 say1 the half-dozen best theatres of each city4 ,a peculiarly intellectual audience it certainly is not4 ,i gladly admit that theatrical art owes much1 in both countries1 to voluntary organizations of intelligent or would-be intelligent#d playgoers1 who have combined to provide themselves with forms of drama which specially interest them1 and do not attract the great public4 ,but ,i am entirely convinced that the drama renounces its chief privilege and glory when it waives its claim to be a popular art1 and is content to address itself to coteries1 however high-browed4 ,shakespeare did not write for a coterie3 yet he produced some works of considerable subtlety and profundity4 ,molire was popular with the ordinary parterre of his day3 yet his plays have endured for over two centuries1 and the end of their vitality does not seem to be in sight4 ,ibsen did not write for a coterie1 though special and regrettable circumstances have made him1 in ,england1 something of a coterie-poet4 ,in ,scandinavia1 in ,germany1 even in ,america1 he casts his spell over great audiences1 if not through long runs 7which are a vice of the merely commercial theatre71 at any rate through frequently-repeated representations4 ,so far as ,i know1 history records no instance of a playwright failing to gain the ear of his contemporaries1 and then being recognized and appreciated by posterity4 ,alfred de ,musset might1 perhaps1 be cited as a case in point2 but he did not write with a view to the stage1 and made no bid for contemporary popularity4 ,as soon as it occurred to people to produce his plays1 they were found to be delightful4 ,let no playwright1 then1 make it his boast that he cannot disburden his soul within the three hours' limit1 and cannot produce plays intelligible or endurable to any audience but a band of adepts4 ,a popular audience1 however1 does not necessarily mean the mere riff-raff of the theatrical public4 ,there is a large class of playgoers1 both in ,england and ,america1 which is capable of appreciating work of a high intellectual order1 if only it does not ignore the fundamental conditions of theatrical presentation4 ,it is an audience of this class that ,i have in mind throughout the following pages2 and ,i believe that a playwright who despises such an audience will do so to the detriment1 not only of his popularity and profits1 but of the artistic quality of his work4 ,some people may exclaim3 ,why should the dramatist concern himself about his audience8 ,that may be all very well for the mere journeymen of the theatre1 the hacks who write to an actor-manager's order--not for the true artist6 ,he has a soul above all such petty considerations4 ,art1 to him1 is simply self-expression4 ,he writes to please himself1 and has no thought of currying favour with an audience1 whether intellectual or idiotic4 ,to this ,i reply simply that to an artist of this way of thinking ,i have nothing to say4 ,he has a perfect right to express himself in a whole literature of so-called plays1 which may possibly be studied1 and even acted1 by societies organized to that laudable end4 ,but the dramatist who declares his end to be mere self-expression stultifies himself in that very phrase4 ,the painter may paint1 the sculptor model1 the lyric poet sing1 simply to please himself1#e but the drama has no meaning except in relation to an audience4 ,it is a portrayal of life by means of a mechanism so devised as to bring it home to a considerable number of people assembled in a given place4 ,the public1 it has been well said1 constitutes the theatre4 ,the moment a playwright confines his work within the two or three hours' limit prescribed by ,western custom for a theatrical performance1 he is currying favour with an audience4 ,that limit is imposed simply by the physical endurance and power of sustained attention that can be demanded of ,western human beings assembled in a theatre4 ,doubtless an author could express himself more fully and more subtly if he ignored these limitations2 the moment he submits to them1 he renounces the pretence that mere self-expression is his aim4 ,i know that there are haughty-souls who make no such submission1 and express themselves in dramas which1 so far as their proportions are concerned1 might as well be epic poems or historical romances4#f ,to them1 ,i repeat1 ,i have nothing to say4 ,the one and only subject of the following discussions is the best method of fitting a dramatic theme for representation before an audience assembled in a theatre4 ,but this1 be it noted1 does not necessarily mean writing down to the audience in question4 ,it is by obeying1 not by ignoring1 the fundamental conditions of his craft that the dramatist may hope to lead his audience upward to the highest intellectual level which he himself can attain4 ,these pages1 in short1 are addressed to students of play-writing who sincerely desire to do sound1 artistic work under the conditions and limitations of the actual1 living playhouse4 ,this does not mean1 of course1 that they ought always to be studying what the public wants4 ,the dramatist should give the public what he himself wants--but in such form as to make it comprehensible and interesting in a theatre4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,it is against technic in this sense of the term that the hero of ,mr4 ,howells's admirable novel1 ,the ,story of a ,play1 protests in vigorous and memorable terms4 ,they talk1 says ,maxwell1 about a knowledge of the stage as if it were a difficult science1 instead of a very simple piece of mechanism whose limitations and possibilities anyone may see at a glance4 ,all that their knowledge of it comes to is claptrap1 pure and simple4444 ,they think that their exits and entrances are great matters and that they must come on with such a speech1 and go off with another2 but it is not of the least importance how they come or go1 if they have something interesting to say or do4 ,maxwell1 it must be remembered1 is speaking of technic as expounded by the star actor1 who is shilly-shallying--as star actors will--over the production of his play4 ,he would not1 in his calmer moments1 deny that it is of little use to have something interesting to say1 unless you know how to say it interestingly4 ,such a denial would simply be the negation of the very idea of art4 ,footnote #b3 ,a dramatist of my acquaintance adds this footnote3 ,but1 by the ,lord6 ,they have to give advice4 ,i believe ,i write more plays of other people's than ,i do of my own4 ,footnote #c3 ,it may be hoped1 too1 that even the accomplished dramatist may take some interest in considering the reasons for things which he does1 or does not do1 by instinct4 ,footnote #d3 ,this is not a phrase of contempt4 ,the would-be intelligent playgoer is vastly to be preferred to the playgoer who makes a boast of his unintelligence4 ,footnote #e3 ,in all the arts1 however1 the very idea of craftsmanship implies some sort of external percipient1 or1 in other words1 some sort of an audience4 ,in point of sheer self-expression1 a child's scrabblings with a box of crayons may deserve to rank with the most masterly canvas of ,velasquez or ,vermeer4 ,the real difference between the dramatist and other artists1 is that they can be their own audience1 in a sense in which he cannot4 ,footnote #f3 ,let me guard against the possibility that this might be interpreted as a sneer at ,the ,dynasts--a great work by a great poet4 ,,chapter ,,ii ,,the ,,choice ,,of ,a ,,theme ,the first step towards writing a play is manifestly to choose a theme4 ,even this simple statement1 however1 requires careful examination before we can grasp its full import4 ,what1 in the first place1 do we mean by a theme8 ,and1 secondly1 in what sense can we1 or ought we to1 choose one8 ,theme may mean either of two things3 either the subject of a play1 or its story4 ,the former is1 perhaps1 its proper or more convenient sense4 ,the theme of ,romeo and ,juliet is youthful love crossed by ancestral hate2 the theme of ,othello is jealousy2 the theme of ,le ,tartufe is hypocrisy2 the theme of ,caste is fond hearts and coronets2 the theme of ,getting ,married is getting married2 the theme of ,maternit is maternity4 ,to every play it is possible1 at a pinch1 to assign a theme2 but in many plays it is evident that no theme expressible in abstract terms was present to the author's mind4 ,nor are these always plays of a low class4 ,it is only by a somewhat artificial process of abstraction that we can formulate a theme for ,as ,you ,like ,it1 for ,the ,way of the ,world1 or for ,hedda ,gabler4 ,the question now arises3 ought a theme1 in its abstract form1 to be the first germ of a play8 ,ought the dramatist to say1 ,go to1 ,i will write a play on temperance1 or on woman's suffrage1 or on capital and labour1 and then cast about for a story to illustrate his theme8 ,this is a possible1 but not a promising1 method of procedure4 ,a story made to the order of a moral concept is always apt to advertise its origin1 to the detriment of its illusive quality4 ,if a play is to be a moral apologue at all1 it is well to say so frankly--probably in the title--and aim1 not at verisimilitude1 but at neatness and appositeness in the working out of the fable4 ,the ,french proverbe proceeds on this principle1 and is often very witty and charming4#a ,a good example in ,english is ,a ,pair of ,spectacles1 by ,mr4 ,sydney ,grundy1 founded on a play by ,labiche4 ,in this bright little comedy every incident and situation bears upon the general theme1 and pleases us1 not by its probability1 but by its ingenious appropriateness4 ,the dramatic fable1 in fact1 holds very much the same rank in drama as the narrative fable holds in literature at large4 ,we take pleasure in them on condition that they be witty1 and that they do not pretend to be what they are not4 ,a play manifestly suggested by a theme of temporary interest will often have a great but no less temporary success4 ,for instance1 though there was a good deal of clever character-drawing in ,an ,englishman's ,home1 by ,major du ,maurier1 the theme was so evidently the source and inspiration of the play that it will scarcely bear revival4 ,in ,america1 where the theme was of no interest1 the play failed4 ,it is possible1 no doubt1 to name excellent plays in which the theme1 in all probability1 preceded both the story and the characters in the author's mind4 ,such plays are most of ,m4 ,brieux's2 such plays are ,mr4 ,galsworthy's ,strife and ,justice4 ,the ,french plays1 in my judgment1 suffer artistically from the obtrusive predominance of the theme--that is to say1 the abstract element--over the human and concrete factors in the composition4 ,mr4 ,galsworthy's more delicate and unemphatic art eludes this danger1 at any rate in ,strife4 ,we do not remember until all is over that his characters represent classes1 and his action is1 one might almost say1 a sociological symbol4 ,if1 then1 the theme does1 as a matter of fact1 come first in the author's conception1 he will do well either to make it patently and confessedly dominant1 as in the proverbe1 or to take care that1 as in ,strife1 it be not suffered to make its domination felt1 except as an afterthought4#b ,no outside force should appear to control the free rhythm of the action4 ,the theme may sometimes be1 not an idea1 an abstraction or a principle1 but rather an environment1 a social phenomenon of one sort or another4 ,the author's primary object in such a case is1 not to portray any individual character or tell any definite story1 but to transfer to the stage an animated picture of some broad aspect or phase of life1 without concentrating the interest on any one figure or group4 ,there are theorists who would1 by definition1 exclude from the domain of drama any such cinematograph-play1 as they would probably call it2 but we shall see cause1 as we go on1 to distrust definitions1 especially when they seek to clothe themselves with the authority of laws4 ,tableau-plays of the type here in question may even claim classical precedent4 ,what else is ,ben ,jonson's ,bartholomew ,fair8 ,what else is ,schiller's ,wallensteins ,lager8 ,amongst more recent plays1 ,hauptmann's ,die ,weber and ,gorky's ,nachtasyl are perhaps the best examples of the type4 ,the drawback of such themes is1 not that they do not conform to this or that canon of art1 but that it needs an exceptional amount of knowledge and dramaturgic skill to handle them successfully4 ,it is far easier to tell a story on the stage than to paint a picture1 and few playwrights can resist the temptation to foist a story upon their picture1 thus marring it by an inharmonious intrusion of melodrama or farce4 ,this has often been done upon deliberate theory1 in the belief that no play can exist1 or can attract playgoers1 without a definite and more or less exciting plot4 ,thus the late ,james ,a4 ,herne inserted into a charming idyllic picture of rural life1 entitled ,shore ,acres1 a melodramatic scene in a lighthouse1 which was hopelessly out of key with the rest of the play4 ,the dramatist who knows any particular phase of life so thoroughly as to be able to transfer its characteristic incidents to the stage1 may be advised to defy both critical and managerial prejudice1 and give his tableau-play just so much of story as may naturally and inevitably fall within its limits4 ,one of the most admirable and enthralling scenes ,i ever saw on any stage was that of the ,trafalgar ,square suffrage meeting in ,miss ,elizabeth ,robins's ,votes for ,women4 ,throughout a whole act it held us spellbound1 while the story of the play stood still1 and we forgot its existence4 ,it was only within a few minutes of the end1 when the story was dragged in neck and crop1 that the reality of the thing vanished1 and the interest with it4 99 99 99 99 99 ,if an abstract theme be not an advisable starting-point1 what is8 ,a character8 ,a situation8 ,or a story8 ,on this point it would be absurd to lay down any rule2 the more so as1 in many cases1 a playwright is quite unable to say in what form the germ of a play first floated into his mind4 ,the suggestion may come from a newspaper paragraph1 from an incident seen in the street1 from an emotional adventure or a comic misadventure1 from a chance word dropped by an acquaintance1 or from some flotsam or jetsam of phrase or fable that has drifted from the other end of history4 ,often1 too1 the original germ1 whatever it may be1 is transformed beyond recognition before a play is done4#c ,in the mind of the playwright figs grow from thistles1 and a silk purse--perhaps a ,fortunatus' purse--may often be made from a sow's ear4 ,the whole delicate texture of ,ibsen's ,doll's ,house was woven from a commonplace story of a woman who forged a cheque in order to redecorate her drawing-room4 ,stevenson's romance of ,prince ,otto 7to take an example from fiction7 grew out of a tragedy on the subject of ,semiramis6 ,one thing1 however1 we may say with tolerable confidence3 whatever may be the germ of a play--whether it be an anecdote1 a situation1 or what not--the play will be of small account as a work of art unless character1 at a very early point1 enters into and conditions its development4 ,the story which is independent of character--which can be carried through by a given number of ready-made puppets--is essentially a trivial thing4 ,unless1 at an early stage of the organizing process1 character begins to take the upper hand--unless the playwright finds himself thinking1 ,oh1 yes1 ,george is just the man to do this1 or1 ,that is quite foreign to ,jane's temperament--he may be pretty sure that it is a piece of mechanism he is putting together1 not a drama with flesh and blood in it4 ,the difference between a live play and a dead one is that in the former the characters control the plot1 while in the latter the plot controls the characters4 ,which is not to say1 of course1 that there may not be clever and entertaining plays which are dead in this sense1 and dull and unattractive plays which are live4 ,a great deal of ink has been wasted in controversy over a remark of ,aristotle's that the action or muthos1 not the character or thos1 is the essential element in drama4 ,the statement is absolutely true and wholly unimportant4 ,a play can exist without anything that can be called character1 but not without some sort of action4 ,this is implied in the very word drama1 which means a doing1 not a mere saying or existing4 ,it would be possible1 no doubt1 to place ,don ,quixote1 or ,falstaff1 or ,peer ,gynt1 on the stage1 and let him develop his character in mere conversation1 or even monologue1 without ever moving from his chair4 ,but it is a truism that deeds1 not words1 are the demonstration and test of character2 wherefore1 from time immemorial1 it has been the recognized business of the theatre to exhibit character in action4 ,historically1 too1 we find that drama has everywhere originated in the portrayal of an action--some exploit or some calamity in the career of some demigod or hero4 ,thus story or plot is by definition1 tradition1 and practical reason1 the fundamental element in drama2 but does it therefore follow that it is the noblest element1 or that by which its value should be measured8 ,assuredly not4 ,the skeleton is1 in a sense1 the fundamental element in the human organism4 ,it can exist1 and1 with a little assistance1 retain its form1 when stripped of muscle and blood and nerve2 whereas a boneless man would be an amorphous heap1 more helpless than a jelly-fish4 ,but do we therefore account the skeleton man's noblest part8 ,scarcely4 ,it is by his blood and nerve that he lives1 not by his bones2 and it is because his bones are1 comparatively speaking1 dead matter that they continue to exist when the flesh has fallen away from them4 ,it is1 therefore1 if not a misreading of ,aristotle1#d at any rate a perversion of reason1 to maintain that the drama lives by action1 rather than by character4 ,action ought to exist for the sake of character3 when the relation is reversed1 the play may be an ingenious toy1 but scarcely a vital work of art4 99 99 99 99 99 ,it is time now to consider just what we mean when we say that the first step towards play-writing is the choice of a theme4 ,in many cases1 no doubt1 it is the plain and literal fact that the impulse to write some play--any play--exists1 so to speak1 in the abstract1 unassociated with any particular subject1 and that the would-be playwright proceeds1 as he thinks1 to set his imagination to work1 and invent a story4 ,but this frame of mind is to be regarded with suspicion4 ,few plays of much value1 one may guess1 have resulted from such an abstract impulse4 ,invention1 in these cases1 is apt to be nothing but recollection in disguise1 the shaking of a kaleidoscope formed of fragmentary reminiscences4 ,i remember once1 in some momentary access of ambition1 trying to invent a play4 ,i occupied several hours of a long country walk in1 as ,i believed1 creating out of nothing at all a dramatic story4 ,when at last ,i had modelled it into some sort of coherency1 ,i stepped back from it in my mind1 as it were1 and contemplated it as a whole4 ,no sooner had ,i done so than it began to seem vaguely familiar4 ,where have ,i seen this story before8 ,i asked myself2 and it was only after cudgelling my brains for several minutes that ,i found ,i had re-invented ,ibsen's ,hedda ,gabler4 ,thus1 when we think we are choosing a plot out of the void1 we are very apt to be1 in fact1 ransacking the store-house of memory4 ,the plot which chooses us is much more to be depended upon--the idea which comes when we least expect it1 perhaps from the most unlikely quarter1 clamours at the gates of birth1 and will not let us rest till it be clothed in dramatic flesh and blood4#e ,it may very well happen1 of course1 that it has to wait--that it has to be pigeon-holed for a time1 until its due turn comes4#f ,occasionally1 perhaps1 it may slip out of its pigeon-hole for an airing1 only to be put back again in a slightly more developed form4 ,then at last its convenient season will arrive1 and the play will be worked out1 written1 and launched into the struggle for life4 ,in the sense of selecting from among a number of embryonic themes stored in his mind1 the playwright has often to make a deliberate choice2 but when1 moved by a purely abstract impulse1 he goes out of set purpose to look for a theme1 it may be doubted whether he is likely to return with any very valuable treasure-trove4#g ,the same principle holds good in the case of the ready-made poetic or historical themes1 which are--rightly or wrongly--considered suitable for treatment in blank verse4 ,whether1 and how far1 the blank verse drama can nowadays be regarded as a vital and viable form is a question to be considered later4 ,in the meantime it is sufficient to say that whatever principles of conception and construction apply to the modern prose drama1 apply with equal cogency to the poetic drama4 ,the verse-poet may perhaps take one or two licenses denied to the prose-poet4 ,for instance1 we may find reason to think the soliloquy more excusable in verse than in prose4 ,but fundamentally1 the two forms are ruled by the same set of conditions1 which the verse-poet1 no less than the prose-poet1 can ignore only at his peril4 ,unless1 indeed1 he renounces from the outset all thought of the stage and chooses to produce that cumbrous nondescript1 a closet drama4 ,of such we do not speak1 but glance and pass on4 ,what laws1 indeed1 can apply to a form which has no proper element1 but1 like the amphibious animal described by the sailor1 cannot live on land and dies in the water8 ,to return to our immediate topic1 the poet who essays dramatic composition on mere abstract impulse1 because other poets have done so1 or because he is told that it pays1 is only too likely to produce willy-nilly a closet drama4 ,let him beware of saying to himself1 ,i will gird up my loins and write a play4 ,shall it be a ,phaedra1 or a ,semiramis1 or a ,sappho1 or a ,cleopatra8 ,a ,julian1 or an ,attila1 or a ,savanarola1 or a ,cromwell8 ,a drama conceived in this reach-me-down fashion will scarcely have the breath of life in it4 ,if1 on the other hand1 in the course of his legendary1 romantic1 or historical reading1 some character should take hold upon his imagination and demand to be interpreted1 or some episode should1 as it were1 startle him by putting on vivid dramatic form before his mind's eye1 then let him by all means yield to the inspiration1 and try to mould the theme into a drama4 ,the real labour of creation will still lie before him2 but he may face it with the hope of producing a live play1 not a long-drawn rhetorical anachronism1 whether of the rotund or of the spasmodic type4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,for instance1 ,il ne faut jurer de rien4 ,il faut qu'une porte soit ouverte ou ferme4 ,un bienfait n'est jamais perdu4 ,there is also a large class of pieces of which the title1 though not itself a proverb1 makes direct allusion to some fable or proverbial saying3 for example1 ,les ,brebis de ,panurge1 ,la ,chasse aux ,corbeaux1 ,la ,cigale chez les ,fourmis4 ,footnote #b3 ,i learn1 on the best authority1 that ,i am wrong1 in point of fact1 as to the origin of ,strife4 ,the play arose in ,mr4 ,galsworthy's mind from his actually having seen in conflict the two men who were the prototypes of ,anthony and ,roberts1 and thus noted the waste and inefficacy arising from the clash of strong characters unaccompanied by balance4 ,it was accident that led him to place the two men in an environment of capital and labour4 ,in reality1 both of them were1 if not capitalists1 at any rate on the side of capital4 ,this interesting correction of fact does not invalidate the theory above stated4 ,footnote #c3 ,mr4 ,henry ,arthur ,jones writes to me3 ,sometimes ,i start with a scene only1 sometimes with a complete idea4 ,sometimes a play splits into two plays1 sometimes two or three ideas combine into a concrete whole4 ,always the final play is altered out of all knowledge from its first idea4 ,an interesting account of the way in which two very different plays by ,m4 de ,curel3 ,l',envers d'une ,sainte and ,l',invite1--grew out of one and the same initial idea1 may be found in ,l',anne ,psychologique1 #ahid1 p4 #aba4 ,footnote #d3 ,in my discussion of this point1 ,i have rather simplified ,aristotle's position4 ,he appears to make action the essential element in tragedy and not merely the necessary vehicle of character4 ,in a play1 he says1 they do not act in order to portray the characters1 they include the characters for the sake of the action4 ,so that it is the action in it1 i4e4 its ,fable or ,plot1 that is the end and purpose of the tragedy1 and the end is everywhere the chief thing4 ,besides this1 a tragedy is impossible without action1 but there may be one without character4 7,bywater's ,translation47 ,the last sentence is1 in my view1 the gist of the matter2 the preceding sentences greatly overstate the case4 ,there was a lively controversy on the subject in the ,times ,literary ,supplement in ,may1 #aijb4 ,it arose from a review of ,mr4 ,phillips's ,paolo and ,francesco1 and ,mr4 ,andrew ,lang1 ,mr4 ,churton ,collins1 and ,mr4 ,a4,b4 ,walkley took part in it4 ,footnote #e3 ,are the first beginnings of imaginative conception directed by the will8 ,are they1 indeed1 conscious at all8 ,do they not rather emerge unbidden from the vague limbo of sub-consciousness8 ,a4,b4 ,walkley1 ,drama and ,life1 p4 #he4 ,footnote #f3 ,sardou kept a file of about fifty dossiers1 each bearing the name of an unwritten play1 and containing notes and sketches for it4 ,dumas1 on the other hand1 always finished one play before he began to think of another4 ,see ,l',anne ,psychologique1 #ahid1 pp4 #fg1 #gf4 ,footnote #g3 ,my experience is1 a dramatist writes to me1 that you never deliberately choose a theme4 ,you lie awake1 or you go walking1 and suddenly there flashes into your mind a contrast1 a piece of spiritual irony1 an old incident carrying some general significance4 ,round this your mind broods1 and there is the germ of your play4 ,again be writes3 ,it is not advisable for a playwright to start out at all unless he has so felt or seen something1 that he feels1 as it matures in his mind1 that he must express it1 and in dramatic form4 ,,chapter ,,iii ,,dramatic ,,and ,,undramatic ,it may be well1 at this point1 to consider for a little what we mean when we use the term dramatic4 ,we shall probably not arrive at any definition which can be applied as an infallible touchstone to distinguish the dramatic from the undramatic4 ,perhaps1 indeed1 the upshot may rather be to place the student on his guard against troubling too much about the formal definitions of critical theorists4 ,the orthodox opinion of the present time is that which is generally associated with the name of the late ,ferdinand ,brunetire4 ,the theatre in general1 said that critic1 is nothing but the place for the development of the human will1 attacking the obstacles opposed to it by destiny1 fortune1 or circumstances4 ,and again3 ,drama is a representation of the will of man in conflict with the mysterious powers or natural forces which limit and belittle us2 it is one of us thrown living upon the stage1 there to struggle against fatality1 against social law1 against one of his fellow-mortals1 against himself1 if need be1 against the ambitions1 the interests1 the prejudices1 the folly1 the malevolence of those who surround him4#a ,the difficulty about this definition is that1 while it describes the matter of a good many dramas1 it does not lay down any true differentia--any characteristic common to all drama1 and possessed by no other form of fiction4 ,many of the greatest plays in the world can with difficulty be brought under the formula1 while the majority of romances and other stories come under it with ease4 ,where1 for instance1 is the struggle in the ,agamemnon8 ,there is no more struggle between ,clytemnestra and ,agamemnon than there is between the spider and the fly who walks into his net4 ,there is not even a struggle in ,clytemnestra's mind4 ,agamemnon's doom is sealed from the outset1 and she merely carries out a pre-arranged plot4 ,there is contest indeed in the succeeding plays of the trilogy2 but it will scarcely be argued that the ,agamemnon1 taken alone1 is not a great drama4 ,even the ,oedipus of ,sophocles1 though it may at first sight seem a typical instance of a struggle against ,destiny1 does not really come under the definition4 ,oedipus1 in fact1 does not struggle at all4 ,his struggles1 in so far as that word can be applied to his misguided efforts to escape from the toils of fate1 are all things of the past2 in the actual course of the tragedy he simply writhes under one revelation after another of bygone error and unwitting crime4 ,it would be a mere play upon words to recognize as a dramatic struggle the writhing of a worm on a hook4 ,and does not this description apply very closely to the part played by another great protagonist--,othello to wit8 ,there is no struggle1 no conflict1 between him and ,iago4 ,it is ,iago alone who exerts any will2 neither ,othello nor ,desdemona makes the smallest fight4 ,from the moment when ,iago sets his machination to work1 they are like people sliding down an ice-slope to an inevitable abyss4 ,where is the conflict in ,as ,you ,like ,it8 ,no one1 surely1 will pretend that any part of the interest or charm of the play arises from the struggle between the banished ,duke and the ,usurper1 or between ,orlando and ,oliver4 ,there is not even the conflict1 if so it can be called1 which nominally brings so many hundreds of plays under the ,brunetire canon--the conflict between an eager lover and a more or less reluctant maid4 ,or take1 again1 ,ibsen's ,ghosts--in what valid sense can it be said that that tragedy shows us will struggling against obstacles8 ,oswald1 doubtless1 wishes to live1 and his mother desires that he should live2 but this mere will for life cannot be the differentia that makes of ,ghosts a drama4 ,if the reluctant descent of the downward path to death constituted drama1 then ,tolstoy's ,death of ,ivan ,ilytch would be one of the greatest dramas ever written--which it certainly is not4 ,yet again1 if we want to see will struggling against obstacles1 the classic to turn to is not ,hamlet1 not ,lear1 but ,robinson ,crusoe2 yet no one1 except a pantomime librettist1 ever saw a drama in ,defoe's narrative4 ,in a ,platonic dialogue1 in ,paradise ,lost1 in ,john ,gilpin1 there is a struggle of will against obstacles2 there is none in ,hannele1 which1 nevertheless1 is a deeply-moving drama4 ,such a struggle is characteristic of all great fiction1 from ,clarissa ,harlowe to ,the ,house with the ,green ,shutters2 whereas in many plays the struggle1 if there be any at all1 is the merest matter of form 7for instance1 a quite conventional love-story71 while the real interest resides in something quite different4 ,the plain truth seems to be that conflict is one of the most dramatic elements in life1 and that many dramas--perhaps most--do1 as a matter of fact1 turn upon strife of one sort or another4 ,but it is clearly an error to make conflict indispensable to drama1 and especially to insist--as do some of ,brunetire's followers--that the conflict must be between will and will4 ,a stand-up fight between will and will--such a fight as occurs in1 say1 the ,hippolytus of ,euripides1 or ,racine's ,andromaque1 or ,molire's ,tartufe1 or ,ibsen's ,pretenders1 or ,dumas's ,franillon1 or ,sudermann's ,heimat1 or ,sir ,arthur ,pinero's ,gay ,lord ,quex1 or ,mr4 ,shaw's ,candida1 or ,mr4 ,galsworthy's ,strife--such a stand-up fight1 ,i say1 is no doubt one of the intensest forms of drama4 ,but it is comparatively rare at any rate as the formula of a whole play4 ,in individual scenes a conflict of will is frequent enough2 but it is1 after all1 only one among a multitude of equally telling forms of drama4 ,no one can say that the ,balcony ,scene in ,romeo and ,juliet is undramatic1 or the ,galeoto f il libro scene in ,mr4 ,stephen ,phillips's ,paolo and ,francesca2 yet the point of these scenes is not a clash1 but an ecstatic concordance1 of wills4 ,is the death-scene of ,cleopatra undramatic8 ,or the ,banquet scene in ,macbeth8 ,or the pastoral act in ,the ,winter's ,tale8 ,yet in none of these is there any conflict of wills4 ,in the whole range of drama there is scarcely a passage which one would call more specifically dramatic than the ,screen ,scene in ,the ,school for ,scandal2 yet it would be the veriest quibbling to argue that any appreciable part of its effect arises from the clash of will against will4 ,this whole comedy1 indeed1 suffices to show the emptiness of the theory4 ,with a little strain it is possible to bring it within the letter of the formula2 but who can pretend that any considerable part of the attraction or interest of the play is due to that possibility8 ,the champions of the theory1 moreover1 place it on a metaphysical basis1 finding in the will the essence of human personality1 and therefore of the art which shows human personality raised to its highest power4 ,it seems unnecessary1 however1 to apply to ,schopenhauer for an explanation of whatever validity the theory may possess4 ,for a sufficient account of the matter1 we need go no further than the simple psychological observation that human nature loves a fight1 whether it be with clubs or with swords1 with tongues or with brains4 ,one of the earliest forms of mediaeval drama was the estrif or flyting--the scolding-match between husband and wife1 or between two rustic gossips4 ,this motive is glorified in the quarrel between ,brutus and ,cassius1 degraded in the patter of two knockabout comedians4 ,certainly there is nothing more telling in drama than a piece of cut-and-thrust dialogue after the fashion of the ancient stichomythia4 ,when a whole theme involving conflict1 or even a single scene of the nature described as a passage-at-arms1 comes naturally in the playwright's way1 by all means let him seize the opportunity4 ,but do not let him reject a theme or scene as undramatic merely because it has no room for a clash of warring wills4 ,there is a variant of the conflict theory which underlines the word obstacles in the above-quoted dictum of ,brunetire1 and lays down the rule3 ,no obstacle1 no drama4 ,though far from being universally valid1 this form of the theory has a certain practical usefulness1 and may well be borne in mind4 ,many a play would have remained unwritten if the author had asked himself1 ,is there a sufficient obstacle between my two lovers8 or1 in more general terms1 between my characters and the realization of their will8 ,there is nothing more futile than a play in which we feel that there is no real obstacle to the inevitable happy ending1 and that the curtain might just as well fall in the middle of the first act as at the end of the third4 ,comedies abound 7though they reach the stage only by accident7 in which the obstacle between ,corydon and ,phyllis1 between ,lord ,edwin and ,lady ,angelina1 is not even a defect or peculiarity of character1 but simply some trumpery misunderstanding#b which can be kept afoot only so long as every one concerned holds his or her common sense in studious abeyance4 ,pyramus and ,thisbe without the wall may be taken as the formula for the whole type of play4 ,but even in plays of a much higher type1 the author might often ask himself with advantage whether he could not strengthen his obstacle1 and so accentuate the struggle which forms the matter of his play4 ,though conflict may not be essential to drama1 yet1 when you set forth to portray a struggle1 you may as well make it as real and intense as possible4 ,it seems to me that in the late ,william ,vaughn ,moody's drama1 ,the ,great ,divide1 the body of the play1 after the stirring first act1 is weakened by our sense that the happy ending is only being postponed by a violent effort4 ,we have been assured from the very first--even before ,ruth ,jordan has set eyes on ,stephen ,ghent--that just such a rough diamond is the ideal of her dreams4 ,it is true that1 after their marriage1 the rough diamond seriously misconducts himself towards her2 and we have then to consider the rather unattractive question whether a single act of brutality on the part of a drunken husband ought to be held so unpardonable as to break up a union which otherwise promises to be quite satisfactory4 ,but the author has taken such pains to emphasize the fact that these two people are really made for each other1 that the answer to the question is not for a moment in doubt1 and we become rather impatient of the obstinate sulkiness of ,ruth's attitude4 ,if there had been a real disharmony of character to be overcome1 instead of1 or in addition to1 the sordid misadventure which is in fact the sole barrier between them1 the play would certainly have been stronger1 and perhaps more permanently popular4 ,in a play by ,mr4 ,james ,bernard ,fagan1 ,the ,prayer of the ,sword1 we have a much clearer example of an inadequate obstacle4 ,a youth named ,andrea has been brought up in a monastery1 and destined for the priesthood2 but his tastes and aptitudes are all for a military career4 ,he is1 however1 on the verge of taking his priestly vows1 when accident calls him forth into the world1 and he has the good fortune to quell a threatened revolution in a romantic ,duchy1 ruled over by a duchess of surpassing loveliness4 ,with her he naturally falls in love2 and the tragedy lies1 or ought to lie1 in the conflict between this earthly passion and his heavenly calling and election4 ,but the author has taken pains to make the obstacle between ,andrea and ,ilaria absolutely unreal4 ,the fact that ,andrea has as yet taken no irrevocable vow is not the essence of the matter4 ,vow or no vow1 there would have been a tragic conflict if ,andrea had felt absolutely certain of his calling to the priesthood1 and had defied ,heaven1 and imperilled his immortal soul1 because of his overwhelming passion4 ,that would have been a tragic situation2 but the author had carefully avoided it4 ,from the very first--before ,andrea had ever seen ,ilaria--it had been impressed upon us that he had no priestly vocation4 ,there was no struggle in his soul between passion and duty2 there was no struggle at all in his soul4 ,his struggles are all with external forces and influences2 wherefore the play1 which a real obstacle might have converted into a tragedy1 remained a sentimental romance--and is forgotten4 99 99 99 99 99 ,what1 then1 is the essence of drama1 if conflict be not it8 ,what is the common quality of themes1 scenes1 and incidents1 which we recognize as specifically dramatic8 ,perhaps we shall scarcely come nearer to a helpful definition than if we say that the essence of drama is crisis4 ,a play is a more or less rapidly-developing crisis in destiny or circumstance1 and a dramatic scene is a crisis within a crisis1 clearly furthering the ultimate event4 ,the drama may be called the art of crises1 as fiction is the art of gradual developments4 ,it is the slowness of its processes which differentiates the typical novel from the typical play4 ,if the novelist does not take advantage of the facilities offered by his form for portraying gradual change1 whether in the way of growth or of decay1 he renounces his own birthright1 in order to trespass on the domain of the dramatist4 ,most great novels embrace considerable segments of many lives2 whereas the drama gives us only the culminating points--or shall we say the intersecting culminations8--two or three destinies4 ,some novelists have excelled precisely in the art with which they have made the gradations of change in character or circumstance so delicate as to be imperceptible from page to page1 and measurable1 as in real life1 only when we look back over a considerable period4 ,the dramatist1 on the other hand1 deals in rapid and startling changes1 the peripeties1 as the ,greeks called them1 which may be the outcome of long1 slow processes1 but which actually occur in very brief spaces of time4 ,nor is this a merely mechanical consequence of the narrow limits of stage presentation4 ,the crisis is as real1 though not as inevitable1 a part of human experience as the gradual development4 ,even if the material conditions of the theatre permitted the presentation of a whole ,middlemarch or ,anna ,karnine--as the conditions of the ,chinese theatre actually do--some dramatists1 we cannot doubt1 would voluntarily renounce that license of prolixity1 in order to cultivate an art of concentration and crisis4 ,the ,greek drama subjected to the faithful eyes1 as ,horace phrases it1 the culminating points of the ,greek epic2 the modern drama places under the lens of theatrical presentment the culminating points of modern experience4 ,but1 manifestly1 it is not every crisis that is dramatic4 ,a serious illness1 a law-suit1 a bankruptcy1 even an ordinary prosaic marriage1 may be a crisis in a man's life1 without being necessarily1 or even probably1 material for drama4 ,how1 then1 do we distinguish a dramatic from a non-dramatic crisis8 ,generally1 ,i think1 by the fact that it develops1 or can be made naturally to develop1 through a series of minor crises1 involving more or less emotional excitement1 and1 if possible1 the vivid manifestation of character4 ,take1 for instance1 the case of a bankruptcy4 ,most people1 probably1 who figure in the ,gazette do not go through any one1 or two1 or three critical moments of special tension1 special humiliation1 special agony4 ,they gradually drift to leeward in their affairs1 undergoing a series of small discouragements1 small vicissitudes of hope and fear1 small unpleasantnesses1 which they take lightly or hardly according to their temperament1 or the momentary state of their liver4 ,in this average process of financial decline1 there may be--there has been--matter for many excellent novels1 but scarcely for a drama4 ,that admirable chapter in ,little ,dorrit1 wherein ,dickens describes the gradual degradation of the ,father of the ,marshalsea1 shows how a master of fiction deals with such a subject2 but it would be quite impossible to transfer this chapter to the stage4 ,so1 too1 with the bankruptcy of ,colonel ,newcome--certain emotional crises arising from it have1 indeed1 been placed on the stage1 but only after all ,thackeray's knowledge of the world and fine gradations of art had been eliminated4 ,mr4 ,hardy's ,mayor of ,casterbridge has1 ,i think1 been dramatized1 but not1 ,i think1 with success4 ,a somewhat similar story of financial ruin1 the grimly powerful ,house with the ,green ,shutters1 has not even tempted the dramatiser4 ,there are1 in this novel1 indeed1 many potentially dramatic crises2 the trouble is that they are too numerous and individually too small to be suitable for theatrical presentment4 ,moreover1 they are crises affecting a taciturn and inarticulate race1#c a fact which places further difficulties in the way of the playwright4 ,in all these cases1 in short1 the bankruptcy portrayed is a matter of slow development1 with no great outstanding moments1 and is consequently suited for treatment in fiction rather than in drama4 ,but bankruptcy sometimes occurs in the form of one or more sudden1 sharp crises1 and has1 therefore1 been utilized again and again as a dramatic motive4 ,in a hundred domestic dramas or melodramas1 we have seen the head of a happy household open a newspaper or a telegram announcing the failure of some enterprise in which all his fortune is embarked4 ,so obviously dramatic is this incident that it has become sadly hackneyed4 ,again1 we have bankruptcy following upon a course of gambling1 generally in stocks4 ,here there is evident opportunity1 which has been frequently utilized1 for a series of crises of somewhat violent and commonplace emotion4 ,in ,american drama especially1 the duels of ,wall ,street1 the combats of bull and bear1 form a very popular theme1 which clearly falls under the ,brunetire formula4 ,few ,american dramatists can resist the temptation of showing some masterful financier feverishly watching the ticker which proclaims him a millionaire or a beggar4 ,the ticker had not been invented in the days when ,ibsen wrote ,the ,league of ,youth1 otherwise he would doubtless have made use of it in the fourth act of that play4 ,the most popular of all ,bjrnson's plays is specifically entitled ,a ,bankruptcy4 ,here the poet has had the art to select a typical phase of business life1 which naturally presents itself in the form of an ascending curve1 so to speak1 of emotional crises4 ,we see the energetic1 active business man1 with a number of irons in the fire1 aware in his heart that he is insolvent1 but not absolutely clear as to his position1 and hoping against hope to retrieve it4 ,we see him give a great dinner-party1 in order to throw dust in the eyes of the world1 and to secure the support of a financial magnate1 who is the guest of honour4 ,the financial magnate is inclined to bite1 and goes off1 leaving the merchant under the impression that he is saved4 ,this is an interesting and natural1 but scarcely a thrilling1 crisis4 ,it does not1 therefore1 discount the supreme crisis of the play1 in which a cold1 clear-headed business man1 who has been deputed by the banks to look into the merchant's affairs1 proves to him1 point by point1 that it would be dishonest of him to flounder any longer in the swamp of insolvency1 into which he can only sink deeper and drag more people down with him4 ,then the bankrupt produces a pistol and threatens murder and suicide if the arbiter of his fate will not consent to give him one more chance2 but his frenzy breaks innocuous against the other's calm1 relentless reason4 ,here we have1 ,i repeat1 a typically dramatic theme3 a great crisis1 bringing out vivid manifestations of character1 not only in the bankrupt himself1 but in those around him1 and naturally unfolding itself through a series of those lesser crises1 which we call interesting and moving scenes4 ,the play is scarcely a great one1 partly because its ending is perfunctory1 partly because ,bjrnson1 poet though he was1 had not ,ibsen's art of throwing in a little poetry into his modern dramas4 ,i have summarized it up to its culminating point1 because it happened to illustrate the difference between a bankruptcy1 dramatic in its nature and treatment1 and those undramatic bankruptcies to which reference has been made4 ,in ,la ,douloureuse1 by ,maurice ,donnay1 bankruptcy is incidentally employed to bring about a crisis of a different order4 ,a ball is proceeding at the house of a ,parisian financier1 when the whisper spreads that the host is ruined1 and has committed suicide in a room above2 whereupon the guests1 after a moment of flustered consternation1 go on supping and dancing6#d ,we are not at all deeply interested in the host or his fortunes4 ,the author's purpose is to illustrate1 rather crudely1 the heartlessness of plutocratic ,bohemia2 and by means of the bankruptcy and suicide he brings about what may be called a crisis of collective character4#e 99 99 99 99 99 ,as regards individual incidents1 it may be said in general that the dramatic way of treating them is the crisp and staccato1 as opposed to the smooth or legato1 method4 ,it may be thought a point of inferiority in dramatic art that it should deal so largely in shocks to the nerves1 and should appeal by preference1 wherever it is reasonably possible1 to the cheap emotions of curiosity and surprise4 ,but this is a criticism1 not of dramatic art1 but of human nature4 ,we may wish that mankind took more pleasure in pure apprehension than in emotion2 but so long as the fact is otherwise1 that way of handling an incident by which the greatest variety of poignancy of emotion can be extracted from it will remain the specifically dramatic way4 ,we shall have to consider later the relation between what may be called primary and secondary suspense or surprise--that is to say between suspense or surprise actually experienced by the spectator to whom the drama is new1 and suspense or surprise experienced only sympathetically1 on behalf of the characters1 by a spectator who knows perfectly what is to follow4 ,the two forms of emotion are so far similar that we need not distinguish between them in considering the general content of the term dramatic4 ,it is plain that the latter or secondary form of emotion must be by far the commoner1 and the one to which the dramatist of any ambition must make his main appeal2 for the longer his play endures1 the larger will be the proportion of any given audience which knows it beforehand1 in outline1 if not in detail4 ,as a typical example of a dramatic way of handling an incident1 so as to make a supreme effect of what might else have been an anti-climax1 one may cite the death of ,othello4 ,shakespeare was faced by no easy problem4 ,desdemona was dead1 ,emilia dead1 ,iago wounded and doomed to the torture2 how was ,othello to die without merely satiating the audience with a glut of blood8 ,how was his death to be made1 not a foregone conclusion1 a mere conventional suicide1 but the culminating moment of the tragedy8 ,in no single detail1 perhaps1 did ,shakespeare ever show his dramatic genius more unmistakably than in his solution of this problem4 ,we all remember how1 as he is being led away1 ,othello stays his captors with a gesture1 and thus addresses them3 ,soft you2 a word or two1 before you go4 ,i have done the state some service1 and they know 't2 ,no more of that4 ,i pray you1 in your letters1 ,when you shall these unlucky deeds relate1 ,speak of me as ,i am2 nothing extenuate1 ,nor set down aught in malice1 then must you speak ,of one that loved not wisely but too well2 ,of one not easily jealous1 but1 being wrought1 ,perplex'd in the extreme2 of one whose hand1 ,like the base ,indian1 threw a pearl away ,richer than all his tribe2 of one whose subdued eyes1 ,albeit unused to the melting mood1 ,drop tears as fast as the ,arabian trees ,their medicinal gum4 ,set you down this2 ,and say besides1 that in ,aleppo once1 ,where a malignant and a turban'd ,turk ,beat a ,venetian and traduced the state1 ,i took by the throat the circumcised dog1 ,and smote him--thus6 ,what is the essence of ,shakespeare's achievement in this marvellous passage8 ,what is it that he has done8 ,he has thrown his audience1 just as ,othello has thrown his captors1 off their guard1 and substituted a sudden shock of surprise for a tedious fulfilment of expectation4 ,in other words1 he has handled the incident crisply instead of flaccidly1 and so given it what we may call the specific accent of drama4 ,another consummate example of the dramatic handling of detail may be found in the first act of ,ibsen's ,little ,eyolf4 ,the lame boy1 ,eyolf1 has followed the ,rat-wife down to the wharf1 has fallen into the water1 and been drowned4 ,this is the bare fact3 how is it to be conveyed to the child's parents and to the audience8 ,a ,greek dramatist would probably have had recourse to a long and elaborately worked-up messenger-speech1 a pathetic recitation4 ,that was the method best suited to the conditions1 and to what may be called the prevailing tempo1 of the ,greek theatre4 ,i am far from saying that it was a bad method3 no method is bad which holds and moves an audience4 ,but in this case it would have had the disadvantage of concentrating attention on the narrator instead of on the child's parents1 on the mere event instead of on the emotions it engendered4 ,in the modern theatre1 with greater facilities for reproducing the actual movement of life1 the dramatist naturally aims at conveying to the audience the growing anxiety1 the suspense and the final horror1 of the father and mother4 ,the most commonplace playwright would have seen this opportunity and tried to make the most of it4 ,every one can think of a dozen commonplace ways in which the scene could be arranged and written2 and some of them might be quite effective4 ,the great invention by which ,ibsen snatches the scene out of the domain of the commonplace1 and raises it to the height of dramatic poetry1 consists in leaving it doubtful to the father and mother what is the meaning of the excitement on the beach and the confused cries which reach their ears1 until one cry comes home to them with terrible distinctness1 ,the crutch is floating6 ,it would be hard to name any single phrase in literature in which more dramatic effect is concentrated than in these four words--they are only two words in the original4 ,however dissimilar in its nature and circumstances1 this incident is comparable with the death of ,othello1 inasmuch as in each case the poet1 by a supreme felicity of invention1 has succeeded in doing a given thing in absolutely the most dramatic method conceivable4 ,here we recognize in a consummate degree what has been called the fingering of the dramatist2 and ,i know not how better to express the common quality of the two incidents than in saying that each is touched with extraordinary crispness1 so as to give to what in both cases has for some time been expected and foreseen a sudden thrill of novelty and unexpectedness4 ,that is how to do a thing dramatically4#f ,and now1 after all this discussion of the dramatic in theme and incident1 it remains to be said that the tendency of recent theory1 and of some recent practice1 has been to widen the meaning of the word1 until it bursts the bonds of all definition4 ,plays have been written1 and have found some acceptance1 in which the endeavour of the dramatist has been to depict life1 not in moments of crisis1 but in its most level and humdrum phases1 and to avoid any crispness of touch in the presentation of individual incidents4 ,dramatic1 in the eyes of writers of this school1 has become a term of reproach1 synonymous with theatrical4 ,they take their cue from ,maeterlinck's famous essay on ,the ,tragic in ,daily ,life1 in which he lays it down that3 ,an old man1 seated in his armchair1 waiting patiently1 with his lamp beside him--submitting with bent head to the presence of his soul and his destiny--motionless as he is1 does yet live in reality a deeper1 more human1 and more universal life than the lover who strangles his mistress1 the captain who conquers in battle1 or the husband who 'avenges his honour4' ,they do not observe that ,maeterlinck1 in his own practice1 constantly deals with crises1 and often with violent and startling ones4 ,at the same time1 ,i am far from suggesting that the reaction against the traditional dramatic is a wholly mistaken movement4 ,it is a valuable corrective of conventional theatricalism2 and it has1 at some points1 positively enlarged the domain of dramatic art4 ,any movement is good which helps to free art from the tyranny of a code of rules and definitions4 ,the only really valid definition of the dramatic is3 ,any representation of imaginary personages which is capable of interesting an average audience assembled in a theatre4 ,we must say representation of imaginary personages in order to exclude a lecture or a prize-fight2 and we must say an average audience 7or something to that effect7 in order to exclude a dialogue of ,plato or of ,landor1 the recitation of which might interest a specially selected public4 ,any further attempt to limit the content of the term dramatic is simply the expression of an opinion that such-and-such forms of representation will not be found to interest an audience2 and this opinion may always be rebutted by experiment4 ,in all that ,i have said1 then1 as to the dramatic and the non-dramatic1 ,i must be taken as meaning3 ,such-and-such forms and methods have been found to please1 and will probably please again4 ,they are1 so to speak1 safer and easier than other forms and methods4 ,but it is the part of original genius to override the dictates of experience1 and nothing in these pages is designed to discourage original genius from making the attempt4 ,we have already seen1 indeed1 that in a certain type of play--the broad picture of a social phenomenon or environment--it is preferable that no attempt should be made to depict a marked crisis4 ,there should be just enough story to afford a plausible excuse for raising and for lowering the curtain4#g ,let us not1 however1 seem to grant too much to the innovators and the quietists4 ,to say that a drama should be1 or tends to be1 the presentation of a crisis in the life of certain characters1 is by no means to insist on a mere arbitrary convention4 ,it is to make at once an induction from the overwhelming majority of existing dramas1 and a deduction from the nature and inherent conditions of theatrical presentation4 ,the fact that theatrical conditions often encourage a violent exaggeration of the characteristically dramatic elements in life does not make these elements any the less real or any the less characteristically dramatic4 ,it is true that crispness of handling may easily degenerate into the pursuit of mere picture-poster situation2 but that is no reason why the artist should not seek to achieve crispness within the bounds prescribed by nature and common sense4 ,there is a drama--,i have myself seen it--in which the heroine1 fleeing from the villain1 is stopped by a yawning chasm4 ,the pursuer is at her heels1 and it seems as though she has no resource but to hurl herself into the abyss4 ,but she is accompanied by three ,indian servants1 who happen1 by the mercy of ,providence1 to be accomplished acrobats4 ,the second climbs on the shoulders of the first1 the third on the shoulders of the second2 and then the whole trio falls forward across the chasm1 the top one grasping some bush or creeper on the other side2 so that a living bridge is formed1 on which the heroine 7herself1 it would seem1 something of an acrobat7 can cross the dizzy gulf and bid defiance to the baffled villain4 ,this is clearly a dramatic crisis within our definition2 but1 no less clearly1 it is not a piece of rational or commendable drama4 ,to say that such-and-such a factor is necessary1 or highly desirable1 in a dramatic scene1 is by no means to imply that every scene which contains this factor is good drama4 ,let us take the case of another heroine--,nina in ,sir ,arthur ,pinero's ,his ,house in ,order4 ,the second wife of ,filmer ,jesson1 she is continually being offered up as a sacrifice on the altar dedicated to the memory of his adored first wife4 ,not only her husband1 but the relatives of the sainted ,annabel1 make her life a burden to her4 ,then it comes to her knowledge--she obtains absolute proof--that ,annabel was anything but the saint she was believed to be4 ,by a single word she can overturn the altar of her martyrdom1 and shatter the dearest illusion of her persecutors4 ,shall she speak that word1 or shall she not8 ,here is a crisis which comes within our definition just as clearly as the other2#h only it happens to be entirely natural and probable1 and eminently illustrative of character4 ,ought we1 then1 to despise it because of the element it has in common with the picture-poster situation of preposterous melodrama8 ,surely not4 ,let those who have the art--the extremely delicate and difficult art--of making drama without the characteristically dramatic ingredients1 do so by all means2 but let them not seek to lay an embargo on the judicious use of these ingredients as they present themselves in life4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,etudes ,critiques1 vol4 vii1 pp4 #aec and #bjg4 ,footnote #b3 ,in the most aggravated cases1 the misunderstanding is maintained by a persevering use of pronouns in place of proper names3 he and she being taken by the hearer to mean ,a4 and ,b41 when the speaker is in fact referring to ,x4 and ,y4 ,this ancient trick becomes the more irritating the longer the quiproquo is dragged out4 ,footnote #c3 ,the ,lowland ,scottish villager4 ,it is noteworthy that ,mr4 ,j4,m4 ,barrie1 who himself belongs to this race1 has an almost unique gift of extracting dramatic effect out of taciturnity1 and even out of silence4 ,footnote #d3 ,there is a somewhat similar incident in ,clyde ,fitch's play1 ,the ,moth and the ,flame4 ,footnote #e3 ,les ,corbeaux1 by ,henri ,becque1 might perhaps be classed as a bankruptcy play1 though the point of it is that the ,vigneron family is not really bankrupt at all1 but is unblushingly fleeced by the partner and the lawyer of the deceased ,vigneron1 who play into each other's hands4 ,footnote #f3 ,dramatic has recently become one of the most overworked words in the vocabulary of journalism4 ,it constantly appears1 not only in the text of the picturesque reporter1 but in head-lines and on bulletin-boards4 ,when1 on ,july #bj1 #aiaa1 ,mr4 ,asquith wrote to ,mr4 ,balfour to inform him that the ,king had guaranteed the creation of peers1 should it prove necessary for the passing of the ,parliament ,bill1 one paper published the news under this head-line3 ,,dramatic ,,announcement ,,by ,,the ,,prime ,,minister1 and the parliamentary correspondent of another paper wrote3 ,with dramatic suddenness and swiftness1 the ,prime ,minister hurled his thunderbolt at the wavering ,tory party yesterday4 ,as a matter of fact1 the letter was probably not hurled more suddenly or swiftly than the most ordinary invitation to dinner3 nor can its contents have been particularly surprising to any one4 ,it was probably the conclusiveness1 the finality1 of the announcement that struck these writers as dramatic4 ,the letter put an end to all dubiety with a short1 sharp shock4 ,it was1 in fact1 crisp4 ,as a rule1 however1 dramatic is employed by the modern journalist simply as a rather pretentious synonym for the still more hackneyed startling4 ,footnote #g3 ,as a specimen1 and a successful specimen1 of this new technic1 ,i may cite ,miss ,elizabeth ,baker's very interesting play1 ,chains4 ,there is absolutely no story in it1 no complication of incidents1 not even any emotional tension worth speaking of4 ,another recent play of something the same type1 ,the ,way the ,money ,goes1 by ,lady ,bell1 was quite thrilling by comparison4 ,there we saw a workman's wife bowed down by a terrible secret which threatened to wreck her whole life--the secret that she had actually run into debt to the amount of #cj4 ,her situation was dramatic in the ordinary sense of the word1 very much as ,nora's situation is dramatic when she knows that ,krogstad's letter is in ,helmer's hands4 ,but in ,chains there is not even this simple form of excitement and suspense4 ,a city clerk1 oppressed by the deadly monotony and narrowness of his life1 thinks of going to ,australia--and doesn't go3 that is the sum and substance of the action4 ,also1 by way of underplot1 a shopgirl1 oppressed by the deadly monotony and narrowness of her life1 thinks of escaping from it by marrying a middle-aged widower--and doesn't do it4 ,if any one had told the late ,francisque ,sarcey1 or the late ,clement ,scott1 that a play could be made out of this slender material1 which should hold an audience absorbed through four acts1 and stir them to real enthusiasm1 these eminent critics would have thought him a madman4 ,yet ,miss ,baker has achieved this feat1 by the simple process of supplementing competent observation with a fair share of dramatic instinct4 ,footnote #h3 ,if the essence of drama is crisis1 it follows that nothing can be more dramatic than a momentous choice which may make or mar both the character and the fortune of the chooser and of others4 ,there is an element of choice in all action which is1 or seems to be1 the product of free will2 but there is a peculiar crispness of effect when two alternatives are clearly formulated1 and the choice is made after a mental struggle1 accentuated1 perhaps1 by impassioned advocacy of the conflicting interests4 ,such scenes are ,coriolanus1 v4 #c1 the scene between ,ellida1 ,wangel1 and the ,stranger in the last act of ,the ,lady from the ,sea1 and the concluding scene of ,candida4 ,,chapter ,,iv ,,the ,,routine ,,of ,,composition ,as no two people1 probably1 ever did1 or ever will1 pursue the same routine in play-making1 it is manifestly impossible to lay down any general rules on the subject4 ,there are one or two considerations1 however1 which it may not be wholly superfluous to suggest to beginners4 ,an invaluable insight into the methods of a master is provided by the scenarios and drafts of plays published in ,henrik ,ibsen's ,efterladte ,skrifter4 ,the most important of these fore-works1 as he used to call them1 have now been translated under the title of ,from ,ibsen's ,workshop 7,scribner71 and may be studied with the greatest profit4 ,not that the student should mechanically imitate even ,ibsen's routine of composition1 which1 indeed1 varied considerably from play to play4 ,the great lesson to be learnt from ,ibsen's practice is that the play should be kept fluid or plastic as long as possible1 and not suffered to become immutably fixed1 either in the author's mind or on paper1 before it has had time to grow and ripen4 ,many1 if not most1 of ,ibsen's greatest individual inspirations came to him as afterthoughts1 after the play had reached a point of development at which many authors would have held the process of gestation ended1 and the work of art ripe for birth4 ,among these inspired afterthoughts may be reckoned ,nora's great line1 ,millions of women have done that--the most crushing repartee in literature--,hedvig's threatened blindness1 with all that ensues from it1 and ,little ,eyolf's crutch1 used to such purpose as we have already seen4 ,this is not to say that the drawing-up of a tentative scenario ought not to be one of the playwright's first proceedings4 ,indeed1 if he is able to dispense with a scenario on paper1 it can only be because his mind is so clear1 and so retentive of its own ideas1 as to enable him to carry in his head1 always ready for reference1 a more or less detailed scheme4 ,go-as-you-please composition may be possible for the novelist1 perhaps even for the writer of a one-act play1 a mere piece of dialogue2 but in a dramatic structure of any considerable extent1 proportion1 balance1 and the interconnection of parts are so essential that a scenario is almost as indispensable to a dramatist as a set of plans to an architect4 ,there is one dramatist of note whom one suspects of sometimes working without any definite scenario1 and inventing as he goes along4 ,that dramatist1 ,i need scarcely say1 is ,mr4 ,bernard ,shaw4 ,i have no absolute knowledge of his method2 but if he schemed out any scenario for ,getting ,married or ,misalliance1 he has sedulously concealed the fact--to the detriment of the plays4#a ,the scenario or skeleton is so manifestly the natural ground-work of a dramatic performance that the playwrights of the ,italian commedia dell' arte wrote nothing more than a scheme of scenes1 and left the actors to do the rest4 ,the same practice prevailed in early ,elizabethan days1 as one or two ,,ms4 ,plats1 designed to be hung up in the wings1 are extant to testify4 ,the transition from extempore acting regulated by a scenario to the formal learning of parts falls within the historical period of the ,german stage4 ,it seems probable that the romantic playwrights of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries1 both in ,england and in ,spain1 may have adopted a method not unlike that of the drama of improvisation1 that is to say1 they may have drawn out a scheme of entrances and exits1 and then let their characters discourse 7on paper7 as their fancy prompted4 ,so1 at least1 the copious fluency of their dialogue seems to suggest4 ,but the typical modern play is a much more close-knit organism1 in which every word has to be weighed far more carefully than it was by playwrights who stood near to the days of improvisation1 and could indulge in the large utterance of the early gods4 ,consequently it would seem that1 until a play has been thought out very clearly and in great detail1 any scheme of entrances and exits ought to be merely provisional and subject to indefinite modification4 ,a modern play is not a framework of story loosely draped in a more or less gorgeous robe of language4 ,there is1 or ought to be1 a close interdependence between action1 character and dialogue1 which forbids a playwright to tie his hands very far in advance4 ,as a rule1 then1 it would seem to be an unfavourable sign when a drama presents itself at an early stage with a fixed and unalterable outline4 ,the result may be a powerful1 logical1 well-knit piece of work2 but the breath of life will scarcely be in it4 ,room should be left as long as possible for unexpected developments of character4 ,if your characters are innocent of unexpected developments1 the less characters they4#b ,not that ,i1 personally1 have any faith in those writers of fiction1 be they playwrights or novelists1 who contend that they do not speak through the mouths of their personages1 but rather let their personages speak through them4 ,i do not invent or create ,i have heard an eminent novelist say3 ,i simply record2 my characters speak and act1 and ,i write down their sayings and doings4 ,this author may be a fine psychologist for purposes of fiction1 but ,i question his insight into his own mental processes4 ,the apparent spontaneity of a character's proceedings is a pure illusion4 ,it means no more than that the imagination1 once set in motion along a given line1 moves along that line with an ease and freedom which seems to its possessor preternatural and almost uncanny4#c ,most authors1 however1 who have any real gift for character-creation probably fall more or less under this illusion1 though they are sane enough and modest enough to realize that an illusion it is4#d ,a character will every now and then seem to take the bit between his teeth and say and do things for which his creator feels himself hardly responsible4 ,the playwright's scheme should not1 then1 until the latest possible moment1 become so hard and fast as to allow his characters no elbow room for such manifestations of spontaneity4 ,and this is only one of several forms of afterthought which may arise as the play develops4 ,the playwright may all of a sudden see that a certain character is superfluous1 or that a new character is needed1 or that a new relationship between two characters would simplify matters1 or that a scene that he has placed in the first act ought to be in the second1 or that he can dispense with it altogether1 or that it reveals too much to the audience and must be wholly recast4#e ,these are only a few of the re-adjustments which have constantly to be made if a play is shaping itself by a process of vital growth2 and that is why the playwright may be advised to keep his material fluid as long as he can4 ,ibsen had written large portions of the play now known to us as ,rosmersholm before he decided that ,rebecca should not be married to ,rosmer4 ,he also1 at a comparatively late stage1 did away with two daughters whom he had at first given to ,rosmer1 and decided to make her childlessness the main cause of ,beata's tragedy4 ,perhaps ,i insist too strongly on the advisability of treating a dramatic theme as clay to be modelled and remodelled1 rather than as wood or marble to be carved unalterably and once for all4 ,if so1 it is because of a personal reminiscence4 ,in my early youth1 ,i had1 like everybody else1 ambitions in the direction of play-writing2 and it was my inability to keep a theme plastic that convinced me of my lack of talent4 ,it pleased me greatly to draw out a detailed scenario1 working up duly to a situation at the end of each act2 and1 once made1 that scenario was like a cast-iron mould into which the dialogue had simply to be poured4 ,the result was that the play had all the merits of a logical1 well-ordered essay4 ,my situations worked out like the ,q4,e4,d4's of ,euclid4 ,my characters obstinately refused to come to life1 or to take the bit between their teeth4 ,they were simply cog-wheels in a pre-arranged mechanism4 ,in one respect1 my two or three plays were models--in respect of brevity and conciseness4 ,i was never troubled by the necessity of cutting down--so cruel a necessity to many playwrights4#f ,my difficulty was rather to find enough for my characters to say--for they never wanted to say anything that was not strictly germane to the plot4 ,it was this that made me despair of play-writing1 and realize that my mission was to teach other people how to write plays4 ,and1 similarly1 the aspirant who finds that his people never want to say more than he can allow them to say--that they never rush headlong into blind alleys1 or do things that upset the balance of the play and have to be resolutely undone--that aspirant will do well not to be over-confident of his dramatic calling and election4 ,there may be authors who can write vital plays1 as ,shakespeare is said 7on rather poor evidence7#g to have done1 without blotting a line2 but ,i believe them to be rare4 ,in our day1 the great playwright is more likely to be he who does not shrink1 on occasion1 from blotting an act or two4 ,there is a modern ,french dramatist who writes1 with success1 such plays as ,i might have written had ,i combined a strong philosophical faculty with great rhetorical force and fluency4 ,the dramas of ,m4 ,paul ,hervieu have all the neatness and cogency of a geometrical demonstration4 ,one imagines that1 for ,m4 ,hervieu1 the act of composition means merely the careful filling in of a scenario as neat and complete as a schedule4#h ,but for that very reason1 despite their undoubted intellectual power1 ,m4 ,hervieu's dramas command our respect rather than our enthusiasm4 ,the dramatist should aim at being logical without seeming so4#i ,it is sometimes said that a playwright ought to construct his play backwards1 and even to write his last act first4#aj ,this doctrine belongs to the period of the well-made play1 when climax was regarded as the one thing needful in dramatic art1 and anticlimax as the unforgivable sin4 ,nowadays1 we do not insist that every play should end with a tableau1 or with an emphatic mot de la fin4 ,we are more willing to accept a quiet1 even an indecisive1 ending4#aa ,nevertheless it is and must ever be true that1 at a very early period in the scheming of his play1 the playwright ought to assure himself that his theme is capable of a satisfactory ending4 ,of course this phrase does not imply a happy ending1 but one which satisfies the author as being artistic1 effective1 inevitable 7in the case of a serious play71 or1 in one word1 right4 ,an obviously makeshift ending can never be desirable1 either from the ideal or from the practical point of view4 ,many excellent plays have been wrecked on this rock4 ,the very frequent complaint that the last act is weak is not always or necessarily a just reproach2 but it is so when the author has clearly been at a loss for an ending1 and has simply huddled his play up in a conventional and perfunctory fashion4 ,it may even be said that some apparently promising themes are deceptive in their promise1 since they are inherently incapable of a satisfactory ending4 ,the playwright should by all means make sure that he has not run up against one of these blind-alley themes4#ab ,he should1 at an early point1 see clearly the end for which he is making1 and be sure that it is an end which he actively desires1 not merely one which satisfies convention1 or which will have to do4 ,some dramatists1 when a play is provisionally mapped out1 do not attempt to begin at the beginning and write it as a coherent whole1 but make a dash first at the more salient and critical scenes1 or those which specially attract their imagination4 ,on such a point every author must obviously be a law unto himself4 ,from the theoretical point of view1 one can only approve the practice1 since it certainly makes for plasticity4 ,it is evident that a detached scene1 written while those that lead up to it are as yet but vaguely conceived1 must be subject to indefinite modification4#ac ,in several of ,ibsen's very roughest drafts1 we find short passages of dialogue sketched out even before the names have been assigned to the characters1 showing that some of his earliest ideas came to him1 as it were1 ready dramatized4 ,one would be tempted to hope much of an author who habitually and unaffectedly thus lisped in dialogue for the dialogue came4 ,ought the playwright1 at an early stage in the process of each act1 to have the details of its scene clearly before him8 ,ought he to draw out a scene-plot1 and know1 from moment to moment1 just where each character is1 whether ,he is standing on the hearthrug and ,she sitting on the settee1 or vice versa8 ,there is no doubt that furniture1 properties1 accidents of environment1 play a much larger part in modern drama than they did on the ,elizabethan1 the eighteenth century1 or even the early-,victorian stage4 ,some of us1 who are not yet centenarians1 can remember to have seen rooms on the stage with no furniture at all except two or three chairs painted on the flat4 ,under such conditions1 it was clearly useless for the playwright to trouble his head about furniture1 and even positions might well be left for arrangement at rehearsal4 ,this carelessness of the environment1 however1 is no longer possible4 ,whether we like it or no 7and some theorists do not like it at all71 scenery has ceased to be a merely suggestive background against which the figures stand out in high relief4 ,the stage now aims at presenting a complete picture1 with the figures1 not a little out of the picture1 but completely in it4 ,this being so1 the playwright must evidently1 at some point in the working out of his theme1 visualize the stage-picture in considerable detail2 and we find that almost all modern dramatists do1 as a matter of fact1 pay great attention to what may be called the topography of their scenes1 and the shifting positions of their characters4 ,the question is3 at what stage of the process of composition ought this visualization to occur8 ,here1 again1 it would be absurd to lay down a general rule2 but ,i am inclined to think1 both theoretically and from what can be gathered of the practice of the best dramatists1 that it is wisest to reserve it for a comparatively late stage4 ,a playwright of my acquaintance1 and a very remarkable playwright too1 used to scribble the first drafts of his play in little notebooks1 which he produced from his pocket whenever he had a moment to spare--often on the top of an omnibus4 ,only when the first draft was complete did he proceed to set the scenes1 as it were1 and map out the stage-management4 ,on the other hand1 one has heard of playwrights whose first step in setting to work upon a particular act was to construct a complete model of the scene1 and people it with manikins to represent the characters4 ,as a general practice1 this is scarcely to be commended4 ,it is wiser1 one fancies1 to have the matter of the scene pretty fully roughed-out before details of furniture1 properties1 and position are arranged4#ad ,it may happen1 indeed1 that some natural phenomenon1 some property or piece of furniture1 is the very pivot of the scene2 in which case it must1 of course1 be posited from the first4 ,from the very moment of his conceiving the fourth act of ,le ,tartufe1 ,molire must have had clearly in view the table under which ,orgon hides2 and ,sheridan cannot have got very far with the ,screen ,scene before he had mentally placed the screen4 ,but even where a great deal turns on some individual object1 the detailed arrangements of the scene may in most cases be taken for granted until a late stage in its working out4 ,one proviso1 however1 must be made2 where any important effect depends upon a given object1 or a particular arrangement of the scene1 the playwright cannot too soon assure himself that the object comes well within the physical possibilities of the stage1 and that the arrangement is optically#ae possible and effective4 ,few things1 indeed1 are quite impossible to the modern stage2 but there are many that had much better not be attempted4 ,it need scarcely be added that the more serious a play is1 or aspires to be1 the more carefully should the author avoid any such effects as call for the active collaboration of the stage-carpenter1 machinist1 or electrician4 ,even when a mechanical effect can be produced to perfection1 the very fact that the audience cannot but admire the ingenuity displayed1 and wonder how it is done1 implies a failure of that single-minded attention to the essence of the matter in hand which the dramatist would strive to beget and maintain4 ,a small but instructive example of a difficult effect1 such as the prudent playwright will do well to avoid1 occurs in the third act of ,ibsen's ,little ,eyolf4 ,during the greater part of the act1 the flag in ,allmers's garden is hoisted to half-mast in token of mourning2 until at the end1 when he and ,rita attain a serener frame of mind1 he runs it up to the truck4 ,now1 from the poetic and symbolic point of view1 this flag is all that can be desired2 but from the practical point of view it presents grave difficulties4 ,nothing is so pitifully ineffective as a flag in a dead calm1 drooping nervelessly against the mast2 and though1 no doubt1 by an ingenious arrangement of electric fans1 it might be possible to make this flag flutter in the breeze1 the very fact of its doing so would tend to set the audience wondering by what mechanism the effect was produced1 instead of attending to the soul-struggles of ,rita and ,allmers4 ,it would be absurd to blame ,ibsen for overriding theatrical prudence in such a case2 ,i merely point out to beginners that it is wise1 before relying on an effect of this order1 to make sure that it is1 not only possible1 but convenient from the practical point of view4 ,in one or two other cases ,ibsen strained the resources of the stage4 ,the illumination in the last act of ,pillars of ,society cannot be carried out as he describes it2 or rather1 if it were carried out on some exceptionally large and well-equipped stage1 the feat of the mechanician would eclipse the invention of the poet4 ,on the other hand1 the abode of the ,wild ,duck in the play of that name is a conception entirely consonant with the optics of the theatre2 for no detail at all need be1 or ought to be1 visible1 and a vague effect of light is all that is required4 ,only in his last melancholy effort did ,ibsen1 in a play designed for representation1 demand scenic effects entirely beyond the resources of any theatre not specially fitted for spectacular drama1 and possible1 even in such a theatre1 only in some ridiculously makeshift form4 ,there are two points of routine on which ,i am compelled to speak in no uncertain voice--two practices which ,i hold to be almost equally condemnable4 ,in the first place1 no playwright who understands the evolution of the modern theatre can nowadays use in his stage-directions the abhorrent jargon of the early nineteenth century4 ,when one comes across a manuscript bespattered with such cabalistic signs as ,r4#b4;,e41 ,r4,c41 ,l4,c41 ,l4,u4,e41 and so forth1 one sees at a glance that the writer has neither studied dramatic literature nor thought out for himself the conditions of the modern theatre1 but has found his dramatic education between the buff covers of ,french's ,acting ,edition4 ,some beginners imagine that a plentiful use of such abbreviations will be taken as a proof of their familiarity with the stage2 whereas1 in fact1 it only shows their unfamiliarity with theatrical history4 ,they might as well set forth to describe a modern battleship in the nautical terminology of ,captain ,marryat4 ,right ,first ,entrance1 ,left ,upper ,entrance1 and so forth1 are terms belonging to the period when there were no box rooms or set exteriors on the stage1 when the sides of each scene were composed of wings shoved on in grooves1 and entrances could be made between each pair of wings4 ,thus1 ,r4 #a ,e4 meant the entrance between the proscenium and the first wing on the right1 ,r4 #b ,e4 meant the entrance between the first pair of wings1 and so forth4 ,l4,u4,e4 meant the entrance at the left between the last wing and the back cloth4 ,now grooves and wings have disappeared from the stage4 ,the box room is entered1 like any room in real life1 by doors or ,french windows2 and the only rational course is to state the position of your doors in your opening stage-direction1 and thereafter to say in plain language by which door an entrance or an exit is to be made4 ,in exterior scenes where1 for example1 trees or clumps of shrubbery answer in a measure to the old wings1 the old terminology may not be quite meaningless2 but it is far better eschewed4 ,it is a good general rule to avoid1 so far as possible1 expressions which show that the author has a stage scene1 and not an episode of real life1 before his eyes4 ,men of the theatre are the last to be impressed by theatrical jargon2 and when the play comes to be printed1 the general reader is merely bewildered and annoyed by technicalities1 which tend1 moreover1 to disturb his illusion4 ,a still more emphatic warning must be given against another and more recent abuse in the matter of stage-directions4 ,the ,l4,u4,e4's1 indeed1 are bound very soon to die a natural death4 ,the people who require to be warned against them are1 as a rule1 scarcely worth warning4 ,but it is precisely the cleverest people 7to use clever in a somewhat narrow sense7 who are apt to be led astray by ,mr4 ,bernard ,shaw's practice of expanding his stage-directions into essays1 disquisitions1 monologues1 pamphlets4 ,this is a practice which goes far to justify the belief of some foreign critics that the ,english1 or1 since ,mr4 ,shaw is in question1 let us say the inhabitants of the ,british ,islands1 are congenitally incapable of producing a work of pure art4 ,our novelists--,fielding1 ,thackeray1 ,george ,eliot--have been sufficiently1 though perhaps not unjustly1 called over the coals for their habit of coming in front of their canvas1 and either gossiping with the reader or preaching at him4 ,but1 if it be a sound maxim that the novelist should not obtrude his personality on his reader1 how much more is this true of the dramatist6 ,when the dramatist steps to the footlights and begins to lecture1 all illusion is gone4 ,it may be said that1 as a matter of fact1 this does not occur3 that on the stage we hear no more of the disquisitions of ,mr4 ,shaw and his imitators than we do of the curt1 and often non-existent1 stage-directions of ,shakespeare and his contemporaries4 ,to this the reply is twofold4 ,first1 the very fact that these disquisitions are written proves that the play is designed to be printed and read1 and that we are1 therefore1 justified in applying to it the standard of what may be called literary illusion4 ,second1 when a playwright gets into the habit of talking around his characters1 he inevitably1 even if unconsciously1 slackens his endeavour to make them express themselves as completely as may be in their own proper medium of dramatic action and dialogue4 ,you cannot with impunity mix up two distinct forms of art--the drama and the sociological essay or lecture4 ,to ,mr4 ,shaw1 of course1 much may1 and must1 be forgiven4 ,his stage-directions are so brilliant that some one1 some day1 will assuredly have them spoken by a lecturer in the orchestra while the action stands still on the stage4 ,thus1 he will have begotten a bastard1 but highly entertaining1 form of art4 ,my protest has no practical application to him1 for he is a standing exception to all rules4 ,it is to the younger generation that ,i appeal not to be misled by his seductive example4 ,they have little chance of rivalling him as sociological essayists2 but if they treat their art seriously1 and as a pure art1 they may easily surpass him as dramatists4 ,by adopting his practice they will tend to produce1 not fine works of art1 but inferior sociological documents4 ,they will impair their originality and spoil their plays in order to do comparatively badly what ,mr4 ,shaw has done incomparably well4 ,the common-sense rule as to stage directions is absolutely plain2 be they short1 or be they long1 they ought always to be impersonal4 ,the playwright who cracks jokes in his stage-directions1 or indulges in graces of style1 is intruding himself between the spectator and the work of art1 to the inevitable detriment of the illusion4 ,in preparing a play for the press1 the author should make his stage-directions as brief as is consistent with clearness4 ,few readers will burden their memory with long and detailed descriptions4 ,when a new character of importance appears1 a short description of his or her personal appearance and dress may be helpful to the reader2 but even this should be kept impersonal4 ,moreover1 as a play has always to be read before it can be rehearsed or acted1 it is no bad plan to make the stage-directions1 from the first1 such as tend to bring the play home clearly to the reader's mental vision4 ,and here ,i may mention a principle1 based on more than mere convenience1 which some playwrights observe with excellent results4 ,not merely in writing stage-directions1 but in visualizing a scene1 the idea of the stage should1 as far as possible1 be banished from the author's mind4 ,he should see and describe the room1 the garden1 the sea-shore1 or whatever the place of his action may be1 not as a stage-scene1 but as a room1 garden1 or sea-shore in the real world4 ,the cultivation of this habit ought to be1 and ,i believe is in some cases1 a safeguard against theatricality4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,sardou wrote careful and detailed scenarios1 ,dumas fils held it a waste of time to do so4 ,pailleron wrote enormous scenarios1 ,meilhac very brief ones1 or none at all4 ,mr4 ,galsworthy1 rather to my surprise1 disdains1 and even condemns1 the scenario1 holding that a theme becomes lifeless when you put down its skeleton on paper4 ,sir ,arthur ,pinero says3 ,before beginning to write a play1 ,i always make sure1 by means of a definite scheme1 that there is a way of doing it2 but whether ,i ultimately follow that way is a totally different matter4 ,mr4 ,alfred ,sutro practically confesses to a scenario4 ,he says3 ,before ,i start writing the dialogue of a play1 ,i make sure that ,i shall have an absolutely free hand over the entrances and exits3 in other words1 that there is ample and legitimate reason for each character appearing in any particular scene1 and ample motive for his leaving it4 ,mr4 ,granville ,barker does not put on paper a detailed scenario4 ,he says3 ,i plan the general scheme1 and particularly the balance of the play1 in my head2 but this1 of course1 does not depend entirely on entrances and exits4 ,mr4 ,henry ,arthur ,jones says3 ,i know the leading scenes1 and the general course of action in each act1 before ,i write a line4 ,when ,i have got the whole story clear1 and divided into acts1 ,i very carefully construct the first act1 as a series of scenes between such and such of the characters4 ,when the first act is written ,i carefully construct the second act in the same way--and so on4 ,i sometimes draw up twenty scenarios for an act before ,i can get it to go straight4 ,footnote #b3 ,a friend of the late ,clyde ,fitch writes to me3 ,fitch was often astonished at the way in which his characters developed4 ,he tried to make them do certain things3 they did others4 ,footnote #c3 ,this account of the matter seems to find support in a statement1 by ,m4 ,franois de ,curel1 an accomplished psychologist1 to the effect that during the first few days of work at a play he is clearly conscious of creating1 but that gradually he gets into the skin of his characters1 and appears to work by instinct4 ,no doubt some artists are actually subject to a sort of hallucination1 during which they seem rather to record than to invent the doings of their characters4 ,but this somewhat morbid condition should scarcely be cultivated by the dramatist1 whose intelligence should always keep a light rein on his more instinctive mental processes4 ,see ,l',anne ,psychologique1 #ahid4 p4 #abj4 ,footnote #d3 ,sir ,arthur ,pinero says3 ,the beginning of a play to me is a little world of people4 ,i live with them1 get familiar with them1 and they tell me the story4 ,this may sound not unlike the remark of the novelist above quoted2 but the intention was quite different4 ,sir ,arthur simply meant that the story came to him as the characters took on life in his imagination4 ,mr4 ,h4,a4 ,jones writes3 ,when you have a character or several characters you haven't a play4 ,you may keep these in your mind and nurse them till they combine in a piece of action2 but you haven't got your play till you have theme1 characters1 and action all fused4 ,the process with me is as purely automatic and spontaneous as dreaming2 in fact it is really dreaming while you are awake4 ,footnote #e3 ,here1 says a well-known playwright1 is a common experience4 ,you are struck by an idea with which you fall in love4 ',ha6' you say4 ',what a superb scene where the man shall find the missing will under the sofa6 ,if that doesn't make them sit up1 what will8' ,you begin the play4 ,the first act goes all right1 and the second act goes all right4 ,you come to the third act1 and somehow it won't go at all4 ,you battle with it for weeks in vain2 and then it suddenly occurs to you1 ',why1 ,i see what's wrong6 ,it's that confounded scene where the man finds the will under the sofa6 ,out it must come6' ,you cut it out1 and at once all goes smooth again4 ,but you have thrown overboard the great effect that first tempted you4 ,footnote #f3 ,the manuscripts of ,dumas fils are said to contain1 as a rule1 about four times as much matter as the printed play6 7,parigot3 ,gnie et ,mtier1 p4 #bdc74 ,this probably means1 however1 that he preserved tentative and ultimately rejected scenes1 which most playwrights destroy as they go along4 ,footnote #g3 ,lowell points out that this assertion of ,heminge and ,condell merely shows them to have been unfamiliar with the simple phenomenon known as a fair copy4 ,footnote #h3 ,since writing this ,i have learnt that my conjecture is correct1 at any rate as regards some of ,m4 ,hervieu's plays4 ,footnote #i3 ,see ,chapters ,,xiii and ,,xvi4 ,footnote #aj3 ,this view is expressed with great emphasis by ,dumas fils in the preface to ,la ,princesse ,georges4 ,you should not begin your work1 he says1 until you have your concluding scene1 movement and speech clear in your mind4 ,how can you tell what road you ought to take until you know where you are going8 ,it is perhaps a more apparent than real contradiction of this rule that1 until ,iris was three parts finished1 ,sir ,arthur ,pinero intended the play to end with the throttling of ,iris by ,maldonado4 ,the actual end is tantamount to a murder1 though ,iris is not actually killed4 ,footnote #aa3 ,see ,chapter ,,xviii4 ,footnote #ab3 ,see ,chapter ,,xx4 ,footnote #ac3 ,most of the dramatists whom ,i have consulted are opposed to the principle of roughing out the big scenes first1 and then imbedding them1 as it were1 in their context4 ,sir ,arthur ,pinero goes the length of saying3 ,i can never go on to page #b until ,i am sure that page #a is as right as ,i can make it4 ,indeed1 when an act is finished1 ,i send it at once to the printers1 confident that ,i shall not have to go back upon it4 ,mr4 ,alfred ,sutro says3 ,i write a play straight ahead from beginning to end1 taking practically as long over the first act as over the last three4 ,and ,mr4 ,granville ,barker3 ,i always write the beginning of a play first and the end last3 but as to writing 'straight ahead'--it sounds like what one may be able to do in ,heaven4 ,but almost all dramatists1 ,i take it1 jot down brief passages of dialogue which they may or may not eventually work into the texture of their play4 ,footnote #ad3 ,one is not surprised to learn that ,sardou did his stage-management as he went along1 and always knew exactly the position of his characters from moment to moment4 ,footnote #ae3 ,and aurally1 it may be added4 ,sarcey comments on the impossibility of a scene in ,zola's ,pot ,bouille in which the so-called lovers1 ,octave ,mouret and ,blanche1 throw open the window of the garret in which they are quarrelling1 and hear the servants in the courtyard outside discussing their intrigue4 ,in order that the comments of the servants might reach the ears of the audience1 they had to be shouted in a way 7says ,m4 ,sarcey7 that was fatal to the desired illusion4 ,,chapter ,v ,,dramatis ,,personae ,the theme being chosen1 the next step will probably be to determine what characters shall be employed in developing it4 ,most playwrights1 ,i take it1 draw up a provisional ,dramatis ,personae before beginning the serious work of construction4 ,ibsen seems always to have done so2 but1 in some of his plays1 the list of persons was at first considerably larger than it ultimately became4 ,the frugal poet sometimes saved up the characters rejected from one play1 and used them in another4 ,thus ,boletta and ,hilda ,wangel were originally intended to have been the daughters of ,rosmer and ,beata2 and the delightful ,foldal of ,john ,gabriel ,borkman was a character left over from ,the ,lady from the ,sea4 ,the playwright cannot proceed far in planning out his work without determining1 roughly at any rate1 what auxiliary characters he means to employ4 ,there are in every play essential characters1 without whom the theme is unthinkable1 and auxiliary characters1 not indispensable to the theme1 but simply convenient for filling in the canvas and carrying on the action4 ,it is not always possible to decide whether a character is essential or auxiliary--it depends upon how we define the theme4 ,in ,hamlet1 for example1 ,hamlet1 ,claudius1 and ,gertrude are manifestly essential3 for the theme is the hesitancy of a young man of a certain temperament in taking vengeance upon the seducer of his mother and murderer of his father4 ,but is ,ophelia essential1 or merely auxiliary8 ,essential1 if we consider ,hamlet's pessimistic feeling as to woman and the breeding of sinners a necessary part of his character2 auxiliary1 if we take the view that without this feeling he would still have been ,hamlet1 and the action1 to all intents and purposes1 the same4 ,the remaining characters1 on the other hand1 are clearly auxiliary4 ,this is true even of the ,ghost3 for ,hamlet might have learnt of his father's murder in fifty other ways4 ,polonius1 ,laertes1 ,horatio1 and the rest might all have been utterly different1 or might never have existed at all1 and yet the essence of the play might have remained intact4 ,it would be perfectly possible to write a ,hamlet after the manner of ,racine1 in which there should be only six personages instead of ,shakespeare's six-and-twenty3 and in this estimate ,i assume ,ophelia to be an essential character4 ,the dramatis personae would be3 ,hamlet1 his confidant2 ,ophelia1 her confidant2 and the ,king and ,queen1 who would serve as confidants to each other4 ,indeed1 an economy of one person might be affected by making the ,queen 7as she naturally might7 play the part of confidant to ,ophelia4 ,shakespeare1 to be sure1 did not deliberately choose between his own method and that of ,racine4 ,classic concentration was wholly unsuited to the physical conditions of the ,elizabethan stage1 on which external movement and bustle were imperatively demanded4 ,but the modern playwright has a wide latitude of choice in this purely technical matter4 ,he may work out his plot with the smallest possible number of characters1 or he may introduce a crowd of auxiliary personages4 ,the good craftsman will be guided by the nature of his theme4 ,in a broad social study or a picturesque romance1 you may have as many auxiliary figures as you please4 ,in a subtle comedy1 or a psychological tragedy1 the essential characters should have the stage as much as possible to themselves4 ,in ,becque's ,la ,parisienne there are only four characters and a servant2 in ,rostand's ,cyrano de ,bergerac there are fifty-four personages named in the playbill1 to say nothing of supernumeraries4 ,in ,peer ,gynt1 a satiric phantasmagory1 ,ibsen introduces some fifty individual characters1 with numberless supernumeraries2 in ,an ,enemy of the ,people1 a social comedy1 he has eleven characters and a crowd2 for ,ghosts and ,rosmersholm1 psychological tragedies1 six persons apiece are sufficient4 ,it can scarcely be necessary1 at this time of day1 to say much on the subject of nomenclature4 ,one does occasionally1 in manuscripts of a quite hopeless type1 find the millionaire's daughter figuring as ,miss ,aurea ,golden1 and her poor but sprightly cousin as ,miss ,lalage ,gay2 but the veriest tyro realizes1 as a rule1 that this sort of punning characterization went out with the eighteenth century1 or survived into the nineteenth century only as a flagrant anachronism1 like knee-breeches and hair-powder4 ,a curious essay might be written on the reasons why such names as ,sir ,john ,brute1 ,sir ,tunbelly ,clumsy1 ,sir ,peter ,teazle1 ,sir ,anthony ,absolute1 ,sir ,lucius ,o',trigger1 ,lord ,foppington1 ,lord ,rake1 ,colonel ,bully1 ,lovewell1 ,heartfree1 ,gripe1 ,shark and the rest were regarded as a matter of course in the comedy of manners1 but have become offensive to-day1 except in deliberate imitations of the eighteenth-century style4 ,the explanation does not lie merely in the contrast between conventional comedy and realistic drama4 ,our forefathers 7whatever ,lamb may say7 did not consciously place their comedy in a realm of convention1 but generally considered themselves1 and sometimes were1 realists4 ,the fashion of label-names1 if we may call them so1 came down from the ,elizabethans1 who1 again1 borrowed it from the ,mediaeval ,moralities4#a ,shakespeare himself gave us ,master ,slender and ,justice ,shallow2 but it was in the ,jonsonian comedy of types that the practice of advertising a humour or passion in a name 7,english or ,italian7 established itself most firmly4 ,hence such strange appellatives as ,sir ,epicure ,mammon1 ,sir ,amorous ,la ,foole1 ,morose1 ,wellbred1 ,downright1 ,fastidius ,brisk1 ,volpone1 ,corbaccio1 ,sordido1 and ,fallace4 ,after the ,restoration1 ,jonson1 ,beaumont and ,fletcher1 and ,massinger were1 for a time1 more popular than ,shakespeare2 so that the label-names seemed to have the sanction of the giants that were before the ,flood4 ,even when comedy began to deal with individuals rather than mere incarnations of a single humour1 the practice of giving them obvious pseudonyms held its ground4 ,probably it was reinforced by the analogous practice which obtained in journalism1 in which real persons were constantly alluded to 7and libelled7 under fictitious designations1 more or less transparent to the initiated4 ,thus a label-name did not carry with it a sense of unreality1 but rather1 perhaps1 a vague suggestion of covert reference to a real person4 ,i must not here attempt to trace the stages by which the fashion went out4 ,it could doubtless be shown that the process of change ran parallel to the shrinkage of the apron and the transformation of the platform-stage into the picture-stage4 ,that transformation was completed about the middle of the nineteenth century2 and it was about that time that label-names made their latest appearances in works of any artistic pretension--witness the ,lady ,gay ,spanker of ,london ,assurance1 and the ,captain ,dudley 7or ,deadly7 ,smooth of ,money4 ,faint traces of the practice survive in ,t4,w4 ,robertson1 as in his master1 ,thackeray4 ,but it was in his earliest play of any note that he called a journalist ,stylus4 ,in his later comedies the names are admirably chosen3 they are characteristic without eccentricity or punning4 ,one feels that ,eccles in ,caste could not possibly have borne any other name4 ,how much less living would he be had he been called ,mr4 ,soaker or ,mr4 ,tosspot6 ,characteristic without eccentricity--that is what a name ought to be4 ,as the characteristic quality depends upon a hundred indefinable1 subconscious associations1 it is clearly impossible to suggest any principle of choice4 ,the only general rule that can be laid down is that the key of the nomenclature1 so to speak1 may rightly vary with the key of the play--that farcical names are1 within limits1 admissible in farce1 eccentric names in eccentric comedy1 while soberly appropriate names are alone in place in serious plays4 ,some dramatists are habitually happy in their nomenclature1 others much less so4 ,ibsen would often change a name three or four times in the course of writing a play1 until at last he arrived at one which seemed absolutely to fit the character2 but the appropriateness of his names is naturally lost upon foreign audiences4 ,one word may perhaps be said on the recent fashion--not to say fad--of suppressing in the printed play the traditional list of ,dramatis ,personae4 ,bjrnson1 in some of his later plays1 was1 so far as ,i am aware1 the first of the moderns to adopt this plan4 ,i do not know whether his example has influenced certain ,english playwrights1 or whether they arrived independently at the same austere principle1 by sheer force of individual genius4 ,the matter is a trifling one--so trifling that the departure from established practice has something of the air of a pedantry4 ,it is not1 on the whole1 to be approved4 ,it adds perceptibly to the difficulty which some readers experience in picking up the threads of a play2 and it deprives other readers of a real and appreciable pleasure of anticipation4 ,there is a peculiar and not irrational charm in looking down a list of quite unknown names1 and thinking3 ,in the course of three hours1 ,i shall know these people3 ,i shall have read their hearts3 ,i shall have lived with them through a great crisis in their lives3 some of them may be my friends for ever4 ,it is one of the glories and privileges of the dramatist's calling that he can arouse in us this eager and poignant expectation2 and ,i cannot commend his wisdom in deliberately taking the edge off it1 and making us feel as though we were not sitting down to a play1 but to a sort of conversational novel4 ,a list of characters1 it is true1 may also affect one with acute anticipations of boredom2 but ,i have never yet found a play less tedious by reason of the suppression of the ,dramatis ,personae4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,partially1 too1 they were under the influence of antiquity2 but the ancients were very discreet in their use of significant names4 ,only in satyr-plays1 in the comic epics1 and for a few extravagant characters in comedy 7such as the boastful soldier7 were grotesque appellations employed4 ,for the rest1 the ,greek habit of nomenclature made it possible to use significant names which were at the same time probable enough in daily life4 ,for example1 a slave might be called ,onesimus1 useful1 or a soldier ,polemon1 to imply his warlike function2 but both names would be familiar to the audience in actual use4 ,,book ,,ii ,,the ,,beginning ,,chapter ,,vi ,,the ,,point ,,of ,,attack3 ,,shakespeare ,,and ,,ibsen ,though1 as we have already noted1 the writing of plays does not always follow the chronological sequence of events1 in discussing the process of their evolution we are bound to assume that the playwright begins at the beginning1 and proceeds in orderly fashion1 by way of the middle1 to the end4 ,it was one of ,aristotle's requirements that a play should have a beginning1 middle and end2 and though it may seem that it scarcely needed an ,aristotle to lay down so self-evident a proposition1 the fact is that playwrights are more than sufficiently apt to ignore or despise the rule4#a ,especially is there a tendency to rebel against the requirement that a play should have an end4 ,we have seen a good many plays of late which do not end1 but simply leave off3 at their head we might perhaps place ,ibsen's ,ghosts4 ,but let us not anticipate4 ,for the moment1 what we have to inquire is where1 and how1 a play ought to begin4 ,in life there are no such things as beginnings4 ,even a man's birth is a quite arbitrary point at which to launch his biography2 for the determining factors in his career are to be found in persons1 events1 and conditions that existed before he was ever thought of4 ,for the biographer1 however1 and for the novelist as a writer of fictitious biography1 birth forms a good conventional starting-point4 ,he can give a chapter or so to ,ancestry1 and then relate the adventures of his hero from the cradle onwards4 ,but the dramatist1 as we have seen1 deals1 not with protracted sequences of events1 but with short1 sharp crises4 ,the question for him1 therefore1 is3 at what moment of the crisis1 or of its antecedents1 he had better ring up his curtain8 ,at this point he is like the photographer studying his finder in order to determine how much of a given prospect he can get in4 ,the answer to the question depends on many things1 but chiefly on the nature of the crisis and the nature of the impression which the playwright desires to make upon his audience4 ,if his play be a comedy1 and if his object be gently and quietly to interest and entertain1 the chances are that he begins by showing us his personages in their normal state1 concisely indicates their characters1 circumstances and relations1 and then lets the crisis develop from the outset before our eyes4 ,if1 on the other hand1 his play be of a more stirring description1 and he wants to seize the spectator's attention firmly from the start1 he will probably go straight at his crisis1 plunging1 perhaps1 into the very middle of it1 even at the cost of having afterwards to go back in order to put the audience in possession of the antecedent circumstances4 ,in a third type of play1 common of late years1 and especially affected by ,ibsen1 the curtain rises on a surface aspect of profound peace1 which is presently found to be but a thin crust over an absolutely volcanic condition of affairs1 the origin of which has to be traced backwards1 it may be for many years4 ,let us glance at a few of ,shakespeare's openings1 and consider at what points he attacks his various themes4 ,of his comedies1 all except one begin with a simple conversation1 showing a state of affairs from which the crisis develops with more or less rapidity1 but in which it is as yet imperceptibly latent4 ,in no case does he plunge into the middle of his subject1 leaving its antecedents to be stated in what is technically called an exposition4 ,neither in tragedy nor in comedy1 indeed1 was this ,shakespeare's method4 ,in his historical plays he relied to some extent on his hearers' knowledge of history1 whether gathered from books or from previous plays of the historical series2 and where such knowledge was not to be looked for1 he would expound the situation in good set terms1 like those of a ,euripidean ,prologue4 ,but the chronicle-play is a species apart1 and practically an extinct species3 we need not pause to study its methods4 ,in his fictitious plays1 with two notable exceptions1 it was ,shakespeare's constant practice to bring the whole action within the frame of the picture1 opening at such a point that no retrospect should be necessary1 beyond what could be conveyed in a few casual words4 ,the exceptions are ,the ,tempest and ,hamlet1 to which we shall return in due course4 ,how does ,the ,merchant of ,venice open8 ,with a long conversation exhibiting the character of ,antonio1 the friendship between him and ,bassanio1 the latter's financial straits1 and his purpose of wooing ,portia4 ,the second scene displays the character of ,portia1 and informs us of her father's device with regard to her marriage2 but this information is conveyed in three or four lines4 ,not till the third scene do we see or hear of ,shylock1 and not until very near the end of the act is there any foreshadowing of what is to be the main crisis of the play4 ,not a single antecedent event has to be narrated to us2 for the mere fact that ,antonio has been uncivil to ,shylock1 and shown disapproval of his business methods1 can scarcely be regarded as a preliminary outside the frame of the picture4 ,in ,as ,you ,like ,it there are no preliminaries to be stated beyond the facts that ,orlando is at enmity with his elder brother1 and that ,duke ,frederick has usurped the coronet and dukedom of ,rosalind's father4 ,these facts being made apparent without any sort of formal exposition1 the crisis of the play rapidly announces itself in the wrestling-match and its sequels4 ,in ,much ,ado ,about ,nothing there is even less of antecedent circumstance to be imparted4 ,we learn in the first scene1 indeed1 that ,beatrice and ,benedick have already met and crossed swords2 but this is not in the least essential to the action2 the play might have been to all intents and purposes the same had they never heard of each other until after the rise of the curtain4 ,in ,twelfth ,night there is a semblance of a retrospective exposition in the scene between ,viola and the ,captain2 but it is of the simplest nature1 and conveys no information beyond what1 at a later period1 would have been imparted on the playbill1 thus-- ,orsino1 ,duke of ,illyria1 in love with ,olivia4 ,olivia1 an heiress1 in mourning for her brother1 and so forth4 ,in ,the ,taming of the ,shrew there are no antecedents whatever to be stated4 ,it is true that ,lucentio1 in the opening speech1 is good enough to inform ,tranio who he is and what he is doing there--facts with which ,tranio is already perfectly acquainted4 ,but this was merely a conventional opening1 excused by the fashion of the time2 it was in no sense a necessary exposition4 ,for the rest1 the crisis of the play--the battle between ,katherine and ,petruchio--begins1 develops1 and ends before our very eyes4 ,in ,the ,winter's ,tale1 a brief conversation between ,camillo and ,archidamus informs us that the ,king of ,bohemia is paying a visit to the ,king of ,sicilia2 and that is absolutely all we need to know4 ,it was not even necessary that it should be conveyed to us in this way4 ,the situation would be entirely comprehensible if the scene between ,camillo and ,archidamus were omitted4 ,it is needless to go through the whole list of comedies4 ,the broad fact is that in all the plays commonly so described1 excepting only ,the ,tempest1 the whole action comes within the frame of the picture4 ,in ,the ,tempest the poet employs a form of opening which otherwise he reserves for tragedies4 ,the first scene is simply an animated tableau1 calculated to arrest the spectator's attention1 without conveying to him any knowledge either of situation or character4 ,such gleams of character as do1 in fact1 appear in the dialogue1 are scarcely perceived in the hurly-burly of the storm4 ,then1 in the calm which ensues1 ,prospero expounds to ,miranda in great detail the antecedents of the crisis now developing4 ,it might almost seem1 indeed1 that the poet1 in this1 his poetic last-will-and-testament1 intended to warn his successors against the dangers of a long narrative exposition2 for ,prospero's story sends ,miranda to sleep4 ,be this as it may1 we have here a case in which ,shakespeare deliberately adopted the plan of placing on the stage1 not the whole crisis1 but only its culmination1 leaving its earlier stages to be conveyed in narrative4#b ,it would have been very easy for him to have begun at the beginning and shown us in action the events narrated by ,prospero4 ,this course would have involved no greater leap1 either in time or space1 than he had perpetrated in the almost contemporary ,winter's ,tale2 and it cannot be said that there would have been any difficulty in compressing into three acts1 or even two1 the essentials of the action of the play as we know it4 ,his reasons for departing from his usual practice were probably connected with the particular occasion for which the play was written4 ,he wanted to produce a masque rather than a drama4 ,we must not1 therefore1 attach too much significance to the fact that in almost the only play in which ,shakespeare seems to have built entirely out of his own head1 with no previous play or novel to influence him1 he adopted the plan of going straight to the catastrophe1 in which he had been anticipated by ,sophocles 7,oedipus ,rex71 and was to be followed by ,ibsen 7,ghosts1 ,rosmersholm1 etc474 ,coming now to the five great tragedies1 we find that in four of them ,shakespeare began1 as in ,the ,tempest1 with a picturesque and stirring episode calculated to arrest the spectator's attention and awaken his interest1 while conveying to him little or no information4 ,the opening scene of ,romeo and ,juliet is simply a brawl1 bringing home to us vividly the family feud which is the root of the tragedy1 but informing us of nothing beyond the fact that such a feud exists4 ,this is1 indeed1 absolutely all that we require to know4 ,there is not a single preliminary circumstance1 outside the limits of the play1 that has to be explained to us4 ,the whole tragedy germinates and culminates within what the prologue calls the two hours' traffick of the stage4 ,the opening colloquy of the ,witches in ,macbeth1 strikes the eerie keynote1 but does nothing more4 ,then1 in the second scene1 we learn that there has been a great battle and that a nobleman named ,macbeth has won a victory which covers him with laurels4 ,this can in no sense be called an exposition4 ,it is the account of a single event1 not of a sequence2 and that event is contemporary1 not antecedent4 ,in the third scene1 the meeting of ,macbeth and ,banquo with the ,witches1 we have what may be called an exposition reversed2 not a narrative of the past1 but a foreshadowing of the future4 ,here we touch on one of the subtlest of the playwright's problems--the art of arousing anticipation in just the right measure4 ,but that is not the matter at present in hand4#c ,in the opening scene of ,othello it is true that some talk passes between ,iago and ,roderigo before they raise the alarm and awaken ,brabantio2 but it is carefully non-expository talk2 it expounds nothing but ,iago's character4 ,far from being a real exception to the rule that ,shakespeare liked to open his tragedies with a very crisply dramatic episode1 ,othello may rather be called its most conspicuous example4 ,the rousing of ,brabantio is immediately followed by the encounter between his men and ,othello's1 which so finely brings out the lofty character of the ,moor2 and only in the third scene1 that of the ,doge's ,council1 do we pass from shouts and swords to quiet discussion and1 in a sense1 exposition4 ,othello's great speech1 while a vital portion of the drama1 is in so far an exposition that it refers to events which do not come absolutely within the frame of the picture4 ,but they are very recent1 very simple1 events4 ,if ,othello's speech were omitted1 or cut down to half a dozen lines1 we should know much less of his character and ,desdemona's1 but the mere action of the play would remain perfectly comprehensible4 ,king ,lear necessarily opens with a great act of state1 the partition of the kingdom4 ,a few words between ,kent and ,gloucester show us what is afoot1 and then1 at one plunge1 we are in the thick of the drama4 ,there was no opportunity here for one of those picturesque tableaux1 exciting rather than informative1 which initiate the other tragedies4 ,it would have had to be artificially dragged in2 and it was the less necessary1 as the partition scene took on1 in a very few lines1 just that arresting1 stimulating quality which the poet seems to have desired in the opening of a play of this class4 ,finally1 when we turn to ,hamlet1 we find a consummate example of the crisply-touched opening tableau1 making a nervous rather than an intellectual appeal1 informing us of nothing1 but exciting a vivid1 though quite vague1 anticipation4 ,the silent transit of the ,ghost1 desiring to speak1 yet tongue-tied1 is certainly one of ,shakespeare's unrivalled masterpieces of dramatic craftsmanship4 ,one could pretty safely wager that if the ,ur-,hamlet1 on which ,shakespeare worked1 were to come to light to-morrow1 this particular trait would not be found in it4 ,but1 oddly enough1 into the middle of this admirable opening tableau1 ,shakespeare inserts a formal exposition1 introduced in the most conventional way4 ,marcellus1 for some unexplained reason1 is ignorant of what is evidently common knowledge as to the affairs of the realm1 and asks to be informed2 whereupon ,horatio1 in a speech of some twenty-five lines1 sets forth the past relations between ,norway and ,denmark1 and prepares us for the appearance of ,fortinbras in the fourth act4 ,in modern stage versions all this falls away1 and nobody who has not studied the printed text is conscious of its absence4 ,the commentators1 indeed1 have proved that ,fortinbras is an immensely valuable element in the moral scheme of the play2 but from the point of view of pure drama1 there is not the slightest necessity for this ,norwegian-,danish embroilment or its consequences4#d ,the real exposition--for ,hamlet differs from the other tragedies in requiring an exposition--comes in the great speech of the ,ghost in ,scene ,v4 ,the contrast between this speech and ,horatio's lecture in the first scene1 exemplifies the difference between a dramatized and an undramatized exposition4 ,the crisis1 as we now learn1 began months or years before the rise of the curtain4 ,it began when ,claudius inveigled the affections of ,gertrude2 and it would have been possible for the poet to have started from this point1 and shown us in action all that he in fact conveys to us by way of narration4 ,his reason for choosing the latter course is abundantly obvious4#e ,hamlet the ,younger was to be the protagonist3 the interest of the play was to centre in his mental processes4 ,to have awakened our interest in ,hamlet the ,elder would1 therefore1 have been a superfluity and an irrelevance4 ,moreover 7to say nothing of the fact that the ,ghost was doubtless a popular figure in the old play1 and demanded by the public7 it was highly desirable that ,hamlet's knowledge of the usurper's crime should come to him from a supernatural witness1 who could not be cross-questioned or called upon to give material proof4 ,this was the readiest as well as the most picturesque method of begetting in him that condition of doubt1 real or affected1 which was necessary to account for his behaviour4 ,but to have shown us in action the matter of the ,ghost's revelation would have been hopelessly to ruin its effect4 ,a repetition in narrative of matters already seen in action is the grossest of technical blunders4#f ,hamlet senior1 in other words1 being indispensable in the spirit1 was superfluous in the flesh4 ,but there was another and equally cogent reason for beginning the play after the commission of the initial crime or crimes4 ,to have done otherwise would have been to discount1 not only the ,ghost1 but the play-scene4 ,by a piece of consummate ingenuity1 which may1 of course1 have been conceived by the earlier playwright1 the initial incidents of the story are in fact presented to us1 in the guise of a play within the play1 and as a means to the achievement of one of the greatest dramatic effects in all literature4 ,the moment the idea of the play-scene presented itself to the author's mind1 it became absolutely unthinkable that he should1 to put it vulgarly1 queer the pitch for the ,players by showing us the real facts of which their performance was to be the counterfeit presentment4 ,the dramatic effect of the incidents was incalculably heightened when they were presented1 as in a looking-glass1 before the guilty pair1 with the eye of the avenger boring into their souls4 ,and have we not here1 perhaps1 a clue to one of the most frequent and essential meanings of the word dramatic8 ,may we not say that the dramatic quality of an incident is proportionate to the variety#g and intensity of the emotions involved in it8 ,all this may appear too obvious to be worth setting forth at such length4 ,very likely it never occurred to ,shakespeare that it was possible to open the play at an earlier point2 so that he can hardly be said to have exercised a deliberate choice in the matter4 ,nevertheless1 the very obviousness of the considerations involved makes this a good example of the importance of discovering just the right point at which to raise the curtain4 ,in the case of ,the ,tempest1 ,shakespeare plunged into the middle of the crisis because his object was to produce a philosophico-dramatic entertainment rather than a play in the strict sense of the word4 ,he wanted room for the enchantments of ,ariel1 the brutishnesses of ,caliban1 the humours of ,stephano and ,trinculo--all elements extrinsic to the actual story4 ,but in ,hamlet he adopted a similar course for purely dramatic reasons--in order to concentrate his effects and present the dramatic elements of his theme at their highest potency4 ,in sum1 then1 it was ,shakespeare's usual practice1 histories apart1 to bring the whole action of his plays within the frame of the picture1 leaving little or nothing to narrative exposition4 ,the two notable exceptions to this rule are those we have just examined--,hamlet and ,the ,tempest4 ,furthermore1 he usually opened his comedies with quiet conversational passages1 presenting the antecedents of the crisis with great deliberation4 ,in his tragedies1 on the other hand1 he was apt to lead off with a crisp1 somewhat startling passage of more or less vehement action1 appealing rather to the nerves than to the intelligence--such a passage as ,gustav ,freytag1 in his ,technik des ,dramas1 happily entitles an einleitende ,akkord1 an introductory chord4 ,it may be added that this rule holds good both for ,coriolanus and for ,julius ,caesar1 in which the keynote is briskly struck in highly animated scenes of commotion among the ,roman populace4 ,let us now look at the practice of ,ibsen1 which offers a sharp contrast to that of ,shakespeare4 ,to put it briefly1 the plays in which ,ibsen gets his whole action within the frame of the picture are as exceptional as those in which ,shakespeare does not do so4 ,ibsen's practice in this matter has been compared with that of the ,greek dramatists1 who also were apt to attack their crisis in the middle1 or even towards the end1 rather than at the beginning4 ,it must not be forgotten1 however1 that there is one great difference between his position and theirs4 ,they could almost always rely upon a general knowledge1 on the part of the audience1 of the theme with which they were dealing4 ,the purpose even of the ,euripidean prologue is not so much to state unknown facts1 as to recall facts vaguely remembered1 to state the particular version of a legend which the poet proposes to adopt1 and to define the point in the development of the legend at which he is about to set his figures in motion4 ,ibsen1 on the other hand1 drew upon no storehouse of tradition4 ,he had to convey to his audience everything that he wanted them to know2 and this was often a long and complex series of facts4 ,the earliest play in which ,ibsen can be said to show maturity of craftsmanship is ,the ,vikings at ,helgeland4 ,it is curious to note that both in ,the ,vikings and in ,the ,pretenders1 two plays which are in some measure comparable with ,shakespearean tragedies1 he opens with a firmly-touched einleitende ,akkord4 ,in ,the ,vikings1 ,ornulf and his sons encounter and fight with ,sigurd and his men1 very much after the fashion of the ,montagues and ,capulets in ,romeo and ,juliet4 ,in ,the ,pretenders the rival factions of ,haakon and ,skule stand outside the cathedral of ,bergen1 intently awaiting the result of the ordeal which is proceeding within2 and though they do not there and then come to blows1 the air is electrical with their conflicting ambitions and passions4 ,his modern plays1 on the other hand1 ,ibsen opens quietly enough1 though usually with some more or less arresting little incident1 calculated to arouse immediate curiosity4 ,one may cite as characteristic examples the hurried colloquy between ,engstrand and ,regina in ,ghosts2 ,rebecca and ,madam ,helseth in ,rosmersholm1 watching to see whether ,rosmer will cross the mill-race2 and in ,the ,master ,builder1 old ,brovik's querulous outburst1 immediately followed by the entrance of ,solness and his mysterious behaviour towards ,kaia4 ,the opening of ,hedda ,gabler1 with its long conversation between ,miss ,tesman and the servant ,bertha1 comes as near as ,ibsen ever did to the conventional exposition of the ,french stage1 conducted by a footman and a parlour-maid engaged in dusting the furniture4 ,on the other hand1 there never was a more masterly opening1 in its sheer simplicity1 than ,nora's entrance in ,a ,doll's ,house1 and the little silent scene that precedes the appearance of ,helmer4 ,regarding ,the ,vikings as ,ibsen's first mature production1 and surveying the whole series of his subsequent works in which he had stage presentation directly in view1#h we find that in only two out of the fifteen plays does the whole action come within the frame of the picture4 ,these two are ,the ,league of ,youth and ,an ,enemy of the ,people4 ,in neither of these have any antecedents to be stated2 neither turns upon any disclosure of bygone events or emotions4 ,we are1 indeed1 afforded brief glimpses into the past both of ,stensgaard and of ,stockmann2 but the glimpses are incidental and inessential4 ,it is certainly no mere coincidence that if one were asked to pick out the pieces of thinnest texture in all ,ibsen's mature work1 one would certainly select these two plays4 ,far be it from me to disparage ,an ,enemy of the ,people2 as a work of art it is incomparably greater than such a piece as ,pillars of ,society2 but it is not so richly woven1 not1 as it were1 so deep in pile4 ,written in half the time ,ibsen usually devoted to a play1 it is an outburst of humorous indignation1 a jeu d'esprit1 one might almost say1 though the jeu of a giant esprit4 ,observing the effect of comparative tenuity in these two plays1 we cannot but surmise that the secret of the depth and richness of texture so characteristic of ,ibsen's work1 lay in his art of closely interweaving a drama of the present with a drama of the past4 ,an ,enemy of the ,people is a straightforward1 spirited melody2 ,the ,wild ,duck and ,rosmersholm are subtly and intricately harmonized4 ,going a little more into detail1 we find in ,ibsen's work an extraordinary progress in the art of so unfolding the drama of the past as to make the gradual revelation no mere preface or prologue to the drama of the present1 but an integral part of its action4 ,it is true that in ,the ,vikings he already showed himself a master in this art4 ,the great revelation--the disclosure of the fact that ,sigurd1 not ,gunnar1 did the deed of prowess which ,hirdis demanded of the man who should be her mate--this crucial revelation is brought about in a scene of the utmost dramatic intensity4 ,the whole drama of the past1 indeed--both its facts and its emotions--may be said to be dragged to light in the very stress and pressure of the drama of the present4 ,not a single detail of it is narrated in cold blood1 as1 for example1 ,prospero relates to ,miranda the story of their marooning1 or ,horatio expounds the ,norwegian-,danish political situation4 ,i am not holding up ,the ,vikings as a great masterpiece2 it has many weaknesses both of substance and of method2 but in this particular art of indistinguishably blending the drama of the present with the drama of the past1 it is already consummate4 ,the ,pretenders scarcely comes into the comparison4 ,it is ,ibsen's one chronicle-play2 and1 like ,shakespeare1 he did not shrink from employing a good deal of narrative1 though his narratives1 it must be said1 are always introduced under such circumstances as to make them a vital part of the drama4 ,it is when we come to the modern plays that we find the poet falling back upon conventional and somewhat clumsy methods of exposition1 which he only by degrees1 though by rapid degrees1 unlearns4 ,the ,league of ,youth1 as we have seen1 requires no exposition4 ,all we have to learn is the existing relations of the characters1 which appear quite naturally as the action proceeds4 ,but let us look at ,pillars of ,society4 ,here we have to be placed in possession of a whole antecedent drama3 the intrigue of ,karsten ,bernick with ,dina ,dorf's mother1 the threatened scandal1 ,johan ,tnnesen's vicarious acceptance of ,bernick's responsibility1 the subsidiary scandal of ,lona ,hessel's outburst on learning of ,bernick's engagement to her half-sister1 the report of an embezzlement committed by ,johan before his departure for ,america4 ,all this has to be conveyed to us in retrospect2 or1 rather1 in the first place1 we have to be informed of the false version of these incidents which is current in the little town1 and on which ,bernick's moral and commercial prestige is built up4 ,what device1 then1 does ,ibsen adopt to this end8 ,he introduces a sewing-bee of tattling women1 one of whom happens to be a stranger to the town1 and unfamiliar with its gossip4 ,into her willing ear the others pour the popular version of the ,bernick story2 and1 this impartment effected1 the group of gossips disappears1 to be heard of no more4 ,these ladies perform the function1 in fact1 of the ,first1 ,second1 and ,third ,gentlemen1 so common in ,elizabethan and pseudo-,elizabethan plays4#i ,they are not quite so artless in their conventionality1 for they bring with them the social atmosphere of the tattling little town1 which is an essential factor in the drama4 ,moreover1 their exposition is not a simple narrative of facts4 ,it is to some extent subtilized by the circumstance that the facts are not facts1 and that the gist of the drama is to lie in the gradual triumph of the truth over this tissue of falsehoods4 ,still1 explain it as we may1 the fact remains that in no later play does ,ibsen initiate us into the preliminaries of his action by so hackneyed and unwieldy a device4 ,it is no conventional canon1 but a maxim of mere common sense1 that the dramatist should be chary of introducing characters who have no personal share in the drama1 and are mere mouthpieces for the conveyance of information4 ,nowhere else does ,ibsen so flagrantly disregard so obvious a principle of dramatic economy4#aj ,when we turn to his next play1 ,a ,doll's ,house1 we find that he has already made a great step in advance4 ,he has progressed from the ,first1 ,second1 and ,third ,gentlemen of the ,elizabethans to the confidant#aa of the ,french classic drama4 ,he even attempts1 not very successfully1 to disguise the confidant by giving her a personal interest1 an effective share1 in the drama4 ,nothing can really dissemble the fact that the long scene between ,nora and ,mrs4 ,linden1 which occupies almost one-third of the first act1 is simply a formal exposition1 outside the action of the play4 ,just as it was providential that one of the house-wives of the sewing-bee in ,pillars of ,society should have been a stranger to the town1 so it was the luckiest of chances 7for the dramatist's convenience7 that an old school-friend should have dropped in from the clouds precisely half-an-hour before the entrance of ,krogstad brings to a sudden head the great crisis of ,nora's life4 ,this happy conjuncture of events is manifestly artificial3 a trick of the dramatist's trade3 a point at which his art does not conceal his art4 ,mrs4 ,linden does not1 like the dames of the sewing-bee1 fade out of the saga2 she even1 through her influence on ,krogstad1 plays a determining part in the development of the action4 ,but to all intents and purposes she remains a mere confidant1 a pretext for ,nora's review of the history of her married life4 ,there are two other specimens of the genus confidant in ,ibsen's later plays4 ,arnholm1 in ,the ,lady from the ,sea1 is little more2 ,dr4 ,herdal1 in ,the ,master ,builder1 is that and nothing else4 ,it may be alleged in his defence that the family physician is the professional confidant of real life4 ,in ,ghosts1 ,ibsen makes a sudden leap to the extreme of his retrospective method4 ,i am not one of those who consider this play ,ibsen's masterpiece3 ,i do not even place it1 technically1 in the first rank among his works4 ,and why8 ,because there is here no reasonable equilibrium between the drama of the past and the drama of the present4 ,the drama of the past is almost everything1 the drama of the present next to nothing4 ,as soon as we have probed to the depths the ,alving marriage and its consequences1 the play is over1 and there is nothing left but for ,regina to set off in pursuit of the joy of life1 and for ,oswald to collapse into imbecility4 ,it is scarcely an exaggeration to call the play all exposition and no drama4 ,here for the first time1 however1 ,ibsen perfected his peculiar gift of imparting tense dramatic interest to the unveiling of the past4 ,while in one sense the play is all exposition1 in another sense it may quite as truly be said to contain no exposition2 for it contains no narrative delivered in cold blood1 in mere calm retrospection1 as a necessary preliminary to the drama which is in the meantime waiting at the door4 ,in other words1 the exposition is all drama1 it is the drama4 ,the persons who are tearing the veils from the past1 and for whom the veils are being torn1 are intensely concerned in the process1 which actually constitutes the dramatic crisis4 ,the discovery of this method1 or its rediscovery in modern drama1#ab was ,ibsen's great technical achievement4 ,in his best work1 the progress of the unveiling occasions a marked development1 or series of changes1 in the actual and present relations of the characters4 ,the drama of the past and the drama of the present proceed1 so to speak1 in interlacing rhythms1 or1 as ,i said before1 in a rich1 complex harmony4 ,in ,ghosts this harmony is not so rich as in some later plays1 because the drama of the present is disproportionately meagre4 ,none the less1 or all the more1 is it a conspicuous example of ,ibsen's method of raising his curtain1 not at the beginning of the crisis1 but rather at the beginning of the catastrophe4 ,in ,an ,enemy of the ,people1 as already stated1 he momentarily deserted that method1 and gave us an action which begins1 develops1 and ends entirely within the frame of the picture4 ,but in the two following plays1 ,the ,wild ,duck and ,rosmersholm1 he touched the highest point of technical mastery in his interweaving of the past with the present4 ,i shall not attempt any analysis of the fabric of these plays4 ,the process would be long1 tedious1 and unhelpful2 for no one could hope to employ a method of such complexity without something of ,ibsen's genius2 and genius will evolve its methods for itself4 ,let me only ask the reader to compare the scene between old ,werle and ,gregers in the first act of ,the ,wild ,duck with the scene between ,nora and ,mrs4 ,linden in the first act of ,a ,doll's ,house1 and mark the technical advance4 ,both scenes are1 in a sense1 scenes of exposition4 ,both are mainly designed to place us in possession of a sequence of bygone facts4 ,but while the ,doll's ,house scene is a piece of quiet gossip1 brought about 7as we have noted7 by rather artificial means1 and with no dramatic tension in it1 the ,wild ,duck scene is a piece of tense1 one might almost say fierce1 drama1 fulfilling the ,brunetire definition in that it shows us two characters1 a father and son1 at open war with each other4 ,the one scene is outside the real action1 the other is an integral part of it4 ,the one belongs to ,ibsen's tentative period1 the other ushers in1 one might almost say1 his period of consummate mastery4#ac ,rosmersholm is so obviously nothing but the catastrophe of an antecedent drama that an attempt has actually been made to rectify ,ibsen's supposed mistake1 and to write the tragedy of the deceased ,beata4 ,it was made by an unskilful hand2 but even a skilful hand would scarcely have done more than prove how rightly ,ibsen judged that the recoil of ,rebecca's crime upon herself and ,rosmer would prove more interesting1 and in a very real sense more dramatic1 than the somewhat vulgar process of the crime itself4 ,the play is not so profound in its humanity as ,the ,wild ,duck1 but it is ,ibsen's masterpiece in the art of withdrawing veil after veil4 ,from the technical point of view1 it will repay the closest study4 ,we need not look closely at the remaining plays4 ,hedda ,gabler is perhaps that in which a sound proportion between the past and the present is most successfully preserved4 ,the interest of the present action is throughout very vivid2 but it is all rooted in facts and relations of the past1 which are elicited under circumstances of high dramatic tension4 ,here again it is instructive to compare the scene between ,hedda and ,thea1 in the first act1 with the scene between ,nora and ,mrs4 ,linden4 ,both are scenes of exposition3 and each is1 in its way1 character-revealing2 but the earlier scene is a passage of quite unemotional narrative2 the later is a passage of palpitating drama4 ,in the plays subsequent to ,hedda ,gabler1 it cannot be denied that the past took the upper hand of the present to a degree which could only be justified by the genius of an ,ibsen4 ,three-fourths of the action of ,the ,master ,builder1 ,little ,eyolf1 ,john ,gabriel ,borkman1 and ,when ,we ,dead ,awaken1 consists of what may be called a passionate analysis of the past4 ,ibsen had the art of making such an analysis absorbingly interesting2 but it is not a formula to be commended for the practical purposes of the everyday stage4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,writing of ,le ,supplice d'une ,femme1 ,alexandre ,dumas fils said3 ,this situation ,i declare to be one of the most dramatic and interesting in all drama4 ,but a situation is not an idea4 ,an idea1 has a beginning1 a middle and an end3 an exposition1 a development1 a conclusion4 ,any one can relate a dramatic situation3 the art lies in preparing it1 getting it accepted1 rendering it possible1 especially in untying the knot4 ,footnote #b3 ,this is what we regard as peculiarly the method of ,ibsen4 ,there is1 however1 this essential difference1 that1 instead of narrating his preliminaries in cold blood1 ,ibsen1 in his best work1 dramatizes the narration4 ,footnote #c3 ,see ,chapter ,,xii4 ,footnote #d3 ,this must not be taken to imply that1 in a good stage-version of the play1 ,fortinbras should be altogether omitted4 ,mr4 ,forbes ,robertson1 in his ,lyceum revival of #ahig1 found several advantages in his retention4 ,among the rest1 it permitted the retention of one of ,hamlet's most characteristic soliloquies4 ,footnote #e3 ,i omit all speculation as to the form which the story assumed in the ,ur-,hamlet4 ,we have no evidence on the point2 and1 as the poet was no doubt free to remodel the material as he thought fit1 even in following his original he was making a deliberate artistic choice4 ,footnote #f3 ,shakespeare committed it in ,romeo and ,juliet1 where he made ,friar ,laurence1 in the concluding scene1 retell the whole story of the tragedy4 ,even in so early a play1 such a manifest redundancy seems unaccountable4 ,a narrative of things already seen may1 of course1 be a trait of character in the person delivering it2 but1 in that case1 it will generally be mendacious 7for instance1 ,falstaff and the men in buckram74 ,or it may be introduced for the sake of its effect upon the characters to whom the narration is addressed4 ,but in these cases its purpose is no longer to convey information to the audience--it belongs1 not to the intelligence department1 but to the department of analysis4 ,footnote #g3 ,i say variety rather than complexity because ,i take it that the emotions of all concerned are here too intense to be very complex4 ,the effect of the scene would appear to lie in the rapidly increasing intensity of comparatively simple emotions in ,hamlet1 in the ,king1 in the ,queen1 and in the amazed and bewildered courtiers4 ,footnote #h3 ,this excludes ,love's ,comedy1 ,brand1 ,peer ,gynt1 and ,emperor and ,galilean4 ,footnote #i3 ,see1 for example1 ,king ,henry ,,viii1 ,act ,,iv1 and the opening scene of ,tennyson's ,queen ,mary4 ,footnote #aj3 ,this rule of economy does not necessarily exclude a group of characters performing something like the function of the antique ,chorus2 that is to say1 commenting upon the action from a more or less disinterested point of view4 ,the function of ,kaffee-,klatsch in ,pillars of ,society is not at all that of the ,chorus1 but rather that of the ,euripidean ,prologue1 somewhat thinly disguised4 ,footnote #aa3 ,it is perhaps worth nothing that ,gabriele d',annunzio in ,la ,gioconda1 reverts to1 and outdoes1 the ,french classic convention1 by giving us three actors and four confidants4 ,the play consists of a crisis in three lives1 passively1 though sympathetically1 contemplated by what is in effect a ,chorus of two men and two women4 ,it would be interesting to inquire why1 in this particular play1 such an abuse of the confidant seems quite admissible1 if not conspicuously right4 ,footnote #ab3 ,dryden1 in his ,essay of ,dramatic ,poesy1 represents this method as being characteristic of ,greek tragedy as a whole4 ,the tragic poet1 he says1 set the audience1 as it were1 at the post where the race is to be concluded2 and1 saving them the tedious expectation of seeing the poet set out and ride the beginning of the course1 they suffer you not to behold him1 till he is in sight of the goal and just upon you4 ,dryden seems to think that the method was forced upon them by the rule of time4 ,footnote #ac3 ,it is a rash enterprise to reconstruct ,ibsen1 but one cannot help wondering how he would have planned ,a ,doll's ,house had he written it in the 'eighties instead of the 'seventies4 ,one can imagine a long opening scene between ,helmer and ,nora in which a great deal of the necessary information might have been conveyed2 while it would have heightened by contrast the effect of the great final duologue as we now possess it4 ,such information as could not possibly have been conveyed in dialogue with ,helmer might1 one would think1 have been left for ,nora's first scene with ,krogstad1 the effect of which it would have enhanced4 ,perhaps ,mrs4 ,linden might with advantage have been retained1 though not in her present character of confidant1 in order to show ,nora in relation to another woman4 ,,chapter ,,vii ,,exposition3 ,,its ,,end ,,and ,,its ,,means ,we have passed in rapid survey the practices of ,shakespeare and ,ibsen in respect of their point and method of attack upon their themes4 ,what practical lessons can we now deduce from this examination8 ,one thing is clear3 namely1 that there is no inherent superiority in one method over another4 ,there are masterpieces in which the whole crisis falls within the frame of the picture1 and masterpieces in which the greater part of the crisis has to be conveyed to us in retrospect1 only the catastrophe being transacted before our eyes4 ,genius can manifest itself equally in either form4 ,but each form has its peculiar advantages4 ,you cannot1 in a retrospective play like ,rosmersholm1 attain anything like the magnificent onward rush of ,othello1 which moves-- ,like to the ,pontick sea ,whose icy current and compulsive course ,ne'er feels retiring ebb1 but keeps due on ,to the ,propontick and the ,hellespont4 ,the movement of ,rosmersholm is rather like that of a winding river1 which flows with a full and steady current1 but seems sometimes to be almost retracing its course4 ,if1 then1 you aim at rapidity of movement1 you will choose a theme which leaves little or nothing to retrospect2 and conversely1 if you have a theme the whole of which falls easily and conveniently within the frame of the picture1 you will probably take advantage of the fact to give your play animated and rapid movement4 ,there is an undeniable attraction in a play which constitutes1 so to speak1 one brisk and continuous adventure1 begun1 developed1 and ended before our eyes4 ,for light comedy in particular is this a desirable form1 and for romantic plays in which no very searching character-study is attempted4 ,the ,taming of the ,shrew no doubt passed for a light comedy in ,shakespeare's day1 though we describe it by a briefer name4 ,its rapid1 bustling action is possible because we are always ready to take the character of a shrew for granted4 ,it would have been a very different play had the poet required to account for ,katharine's peculiarities of temper by a retrospective study of her heredity and upbringing4 ,many eighteenth-century comedies are single-adventure plays1 or dual-adventure plays1 in the sense that the main action sometimes stands aside to let an underplot take the stage4 ,both ,she ,stoops to ,conquer and ,the ,rivals are good examples of the rapid working-out of an intrigue1 engendered1 developed1 and resolved all within the frame of the picture4 ,single-adventure plays of a more modern type are the elder ,dumas's ,mademoiselle de ,belle-,isle1 the younger ,dumas's ,francillon1 ,sardou's ,divorons1 ,sir ,arthur ,pinero's ,gay ,lord ,quex1 ,mr4 ,shaw's ,devil's ,disciple1 ,oscar ,wilde's ,importance of ,being ,earnest1 ,mr4 ,galsworthy's ,silver ,box4 ,widely as these plays differ in type and tone1 they are alike in this1 that they do not attempt to present very complex character-studies1 or to probe the deeps of human experience4 ,the last play cited1 ,the ,silver ,box1 may perhaps be thought an exception to this rule2 but1 though the experience of the hapless charwoman is pitiful enough1 hers is a simple soul1 so inured to suffering that a little more or less is no such great matter4 ,the play is an admirable genre-picture rather than a searching tragedy4 ,the point to be observed is that1 under modern conditions1 it is difficult to produce a play of very complex psychological1 moral1 or emotional substance1 in which the whole crisis comes within the frame of the picture4 ,the method of attacking the crisis in the middle or towards the end is really a device for relaxing1 in some measure1 the narrow bounds of theatrical representation1 and enabling the playwright to deal with a larger segment of human experience4 ,it may be asked why modern conditions should in this respect differ from ,elizabethan conditions1 and why1 if ,shakespeare could produce such profound and complex tragedies as ,othello and ,king ,lear without a word of exposition or retrospect1 the modern dramatist should not go and do likewise8 ,the answer to this question is not simply that the modern dramatist is seldom a ,shakespeare4 ,that is true1 but we must look deeper than that4 ,there are1 in fact1 several points to be taken into consideration4 ,for one thing--this is a minor point--,shakespeare had really far more elbow-room than the playwright of to-day4 ,othello and ,king ,lear1 to say nothing of ,hamlet1 are exceedingly long plays4 ,something like a third of them is omitted in modern representation2 and when we speak of their richness and complexity of characterization1 we do not think simply of the plays as we see them compressed into acting limits1 but of the plays as we know them in the study4 ,it is possible1 no doubt1 for modern playwrights to let themselves go in the matter of length1 and then print their plays with brackets or other marks to show the passages omitted in representation4 ,this is1 however1 essentially an inartistic practice1 and one cannot regret that it has gone out of fashion4 ,another point to be considered is this3 are ,othello and ,lear really very complex character-studies8 ,they are extremely vivid3 they are projected with enormous energy1 in actions whose violence affords scope for the most vehement self-expression2 but are they not1 in reality1 colossally simple rather than complex8 ,it is true that in ,lear the phenomena of insanity are reproduced with astonishing minuteness and truth2 but this does not imply any elaborate analysis or demand any great space4 ,hamlet is complex2 and were ,i talking for victory1 ,i should point out that ,hamlet is1 of all the tragedies1 precisely the one which does not come within the frame of the picture4 ,but the true secret of the matter does not lie here3 it lies in the fact that ,hamlet unpacks his heart to us in a series of soliloquies--a device employed scarcely at all in the portrayal of ,othello and ,lear1 and denied to the modern dramatist4#a ,yet again1 the social position and environment of the great ,shakespearean characters is taken for granted4 ,no time is spent in placing them in a given stratum of society1 or in establishing their heredity1 traditions1 education1 and so forth4 ,and1 finally1 the very copiousness of expression permitted by the rhetorical ,elizabethan form came to ,shakespeare's aid4 ,the modern dramatist is hampered by all sorts of reticences4 ,he has often to work rather in indirect suggestion than in direct expression4 ,he has1 in short1 to submit to a hundred hampering conditions from which ,shakespeare was exempt2 wherefore1 even if he had ,shakespeare's genius1 he would find it difficult to produce a very profound effect in a crisis worked out from first to last before the eyes of the audience4 ,nevertheless1 as before stated1 such a crisis has a charm of its own4 ,there is a peculiar interest in watching the rise and development out of nothing1 as it were1 of a dramatic complication4 ,for this class of play 7despite the ,shakespearean precedents7 a quiet opening is often advisable1 rather than a strong einleitende ,akkord4 ,from calm1 through storm1 to calm1 is its characteristic formula2 whether the concluding calm be one of life and serenity or of despair and death4 ,to my personal taste1 one of the keenest forms of theatrical enjoyment is that of seeing the curtain go up on a picture of perfect tranquillity1 wondering from what quarter the drama is going to arise1 and then watching it gather on the horizon like a cloud no bigger than a man's hand4 ,of this type of opening1 ,an ,enemy of the ,people provides us with a classic example2 and among ,english plays we may cite ,mr4 ,shaw's ,candida1 ,mr4 ,barker's ,waste1 and ,mr4 ,besier's ,don1 in which so sudden and unlooked-for a cyclone swoops down upon the calm of an ,english vicarage4 ,an admirable instance of a fantastic type may be found in ,prunella1 by ,messrs4 ,barker and ,housman4#b ,there is much to be said1 however1 in favour of the opening which does not present an aspect of delusive calm1 but shows the atmosphere already charged with electricity4 ,compare1 for instance1 the opening of ,the ,case of ,rebellious ,susan1 by ,mr4 ,henry ,arthur ,jones1 with that of a ,french play of very similar theme--,dumas's ,francillon4 ,in the latter1 we see the storm-cloud slowly gathering up on the horizon2 in the former1 it is already on the point of breaking1 right overhead4 ,mr4 ,jones places us at the beginning1 where ,dumas leaves us at the end1 of his first act4 ,it is true that at the end of ,mr4 ,jones's act he has not advanced any further than ,dumas4 ,the ,french author shows his heroine gradually working up to a nervous crisis1 the ,english author introduces his heroine already at the height of her paroxysm1 and the act consists of the unavailing efforts of her friends to smooth her down4 ,the upshot is the same2 but in ,mr4 ,jones's act we are1 as the ,french say1 in full drama all the time1 while in ,dumas's we await the coming of the drama1 and only by exerting all his wit1 not to say over-exerting it1 does he prevent our feeling impatient4 ,i am not claiming superiority for either method2 ,i merely point to a good example of two different ways of attacking the same problem4 ,in ,the ,benefit of the ,doubt1 by ,sir ,arthur ,pinero1 we have a crisply dramatic opening of the very best type4 ,a few words from a contemporary criticism may serve to indicate the effect it produced on a first-night audience-- ,we are in the thick of the action at once1 or at least in the thick of the interest1 so that the exposition1 instead of being1 so to speak1 a mere platform from which the train is presently to start1 becomes an inseparable part of the movement4 ,the sense of dramatic irony is strongly and yet delicately suggested4 ,we foresee a peripety1 apparent prosperity suddenly crumbling into disaster1 within the act itself2 and1 when it comes1 it awakens our sympathy and redoubles our interest4 ,almost the same words might be applied to the opening of ,the ,climbers1 by the late ,clyde ,fitch1 one of the many individual scenes which make one deeply regret that ,mr4 ,fitch did not live to do full justice to his remarkable talent4 ,one of the ablest of recent openings is that of ,mr4 ,galsworthy's ,silver ,box4 ,the curtain rises upon a solid1 dull1 upper-middle-class dining-room1 empty and silent1 the electric lights burning1 the tray with whiskey1 siphon and cigarette-box marking the midnight hour4 ,then we have the stumbling1 fumbling entrance of ,jack ,barthwick1 beatifically drunk1 his maudlin babble1 and his ill-omened hospitality to the haggard loafer who follows at his heels4 ,another example of a high-pitched opening scene may be found in ,mr4 ,perceval ,landon's ,the ,house ,opposite4 ,here we have a midnight parting between a married woman and her lover1 in the middle of which the man1 glancing at the lighted window of the house opposite1 sees a figure moving in such a way as to suggest that a crime is being perpetrated4 ,as a matter of fact1 an old man is murdered1 and his housekeeper is accused of the crime4 ,the hero1 if so he can be called1 knows that it was a man1 not a woman1 who was in the victim's room that night2 and the problem is3 how can he give his evidence without betraying a woman's secret by admitting his presence in her house at midnight8 ,i neither praise nor blame this class of story2 ,i merely cite the play as one in which we plunge straight into the crisis1 without any introductory period of tranquillity4 ,the interest of ,mr4 ,landon's play lay almost wholly in the story4 ,there was just enough character in it to keep the story going1 so to speak4 ,the author might1 on the other hand1 have concentrated our attention on character1 and made his play a soul-tragedy2 but in that case it would doubtless have been necessary to take us some way backward in the heroine's antecedents and the history of her marriage4 ,in other words1 if the play had gone deeper into human nature1 the preliminaries of the crisis would have had to be traced in some detail1 possibly in a first act1 introductory to the actual opening1 but more probably1 and better1 in an exposition following the crisply touched einleitende ,akkord4 ,this brings us to the question how an exposition may best be managed4 ,it may not unreasonably be contended1 ,i think1 that1 when an exposition cannot be thoroughly dramatized--that is1 wrung out1 in the stress of the action1 from the characters primarily concerned--it may best be dismissed1 rapidly and even conventionally1 by any not too improbable device4 ,that is the principle on which ,sir ,arthur ,pinero has always proceeded1 and for which he has been unduly censured1 by critics who make no allowances for the narrow limits imposed by custom and the constitution of the modern audience upon the playwrights of to-day4 ,in ,his ,house in ,order 7one of his greatest plays7 ,sir ,arthur effects part of his exposition by the simple device of making ,hilary ,jesson a candidate for ,parliament1 and bringing on a reporter to interview his private secretary4 ,the incident is perfectly natural and probable2 all one can say of it is that it is perhaps an over-simplification of the dramatist's task4#c ,the ,second ,mrs4 ,tanqueray requires an unusual amount of preliminary retrospect4 ,we have to learn the history of ,aubrey ,tanqueray's first marriage1 with the mother of ,ellean1 as well as the history of ,paula ,ray's past life4 ,the mechanism employed to this end has been much criticized1 but seems to me admirable4 ,aubrey gives a farewell dinner-party to his intimate friends1 ,misquith and ,jayne4 ,cayley ,drummle1 too1 is expected1 but has not arrived when the play opens4 ,without naming the lady1 ,aubrey announces to his guests his approaching marriage4 ,he proposes to go out with them1 and has one or two notes to write before doing so4 ,moreover1 he is not sorry to give them an opportunity to talk over the announcement he has made2 so he retires to a side-table in the same room1 to do his writing4 ,misquith and ,jayne exchange a few speeches in an undertone1 and then ,cayley ,drummle comes in1 bringing the story of ,george ,orreyd's marriage to the unmentionable ,miss ,hervey4 ,this story is so unpleasant to ,tanqueray that1 to get out of the conversation1 he returns to his writing2 but still he cannot help listening to ,cayley's comments on ,george ,orreyd's disappearance2 and at last the situation becomes so intolerable to him that he purposely leaves the room1 bidding the other two ,tell ,cayley the news4 ,the technical manipulation of all this seems to me above reproach --dramatically effective and yet life-like in every detail4 ,if one were bound to raise an objection1 it would be to the coincidence which brings to ,cayley's knowledge1 on one and the same evening1 two such exactly similar misalliances in his own circle of acquaintance4 ,but these are just the coincidences that do constantly happen4 ,every one knows that life is full of them4 ,the exposition might1 no doubt1 have been more economically effected4 ,cayley ,drummle might have figured as sole confidant and chorus2 or even he might have been dispensed with1 and all that was necessary might have appeared in colloquies between ,aubrey and ,paula on the one hand1 ,aubrey and ,ellean on the other4 ,but ,cayley as sole confidant--the ,charles1 his friend1 of eighteenth-century comedy--would have been more plainly conventional than ,cayley as one of a trio of ,aubrey's old cronies1 representing the society he is sacrificing in entering upon this experimental marriage2 and to have conveyed the necessary information without any confidant or chorus at all would 7one fancies7 have strained probability1 or1 still worse1 impaired consistency of character4 ,aubrey could not naturally discuss his late wife either with her successor or with her daughter2 while1 as for ,paula's past1 all he wanted was to avert his eyes from it4 ,i do not say that these difficulties might not have been overcome2 for1 in the vocabulary of the truly ingenious dramatist there is no such word as impossible4 ,but ,i do suggest that the result would scarcely have been worth the trouble1 and that it is hyper-criticism which objects to an exposition so natural and probable as that of ,the ,second ,mrs4 ,tanqueray1 simply on the ground that certain characters are introduced for the purpose of conveying certain information4 ,it would be foolish to expect of every work of art an absolutely austere economy of means4 ,sometimes1 however1 ,sir ,arthur ,pinero injudiciously emphasizes the artifices employed to bring about an exposition4 ,in ,the ,thunderbolt1 for instance1 in order that the ,mortimores' family solicitor may without reproach ask for information on matters with which a family solicitor ought to be fully conversant1 it has to be explained that the senior partner of the firm1 who had the ,mortimore business specially in hand1 has been called away to ,london1 and that a junior partner has taken his place4 ,such a rubbing-in1 as it were1 of an obvious device ought at all hazards to be avoided4 ,if the information cannot be otherwise imparted 7as in this case it surely could71 the solicitor had better be allowed to ask one or two improbable questions--it is the lesser evil of the two4 ,when the whole of a given subject cannot be got within the limits of presentation1 is there any means of determining how much should be left for retrospect1 and at what point the curtain ought to be raised8 ,the principle would seem to be that slow and gradual processes1 and especially separate lines of causation1 should be left outside the frame of the picture1 and that the curtain should be raised at the point where separate lines have converged1 and where the crisis begins to move towards its solution with more or less rapidity and continuity4 ,the ideas of rapidity and continuity may be conveniently summed up in the hackneyed and often misapplied term1 unity of action4 ,though the unities of time and place are long ago exploded as binding principles--indeed1 they never had any authority in ,english drama--yet it is true that a broken-backed action1 whether in time or space1 ought1 so far as possible1 to be avoided4 ,an action with a gap of twenty years in it may be all very well in melodrama or romance1 but scarcely in higher and more serious types of drama4#d ,especially is it to be desired that interest should be concentrated on one set of characters1 and should not be frittered away on subsidiary or preliminary personages4 ,take1 for instance1 the case of ,the ,second ,mrs4 ,tanqueray4 ,it would have been theoretically possible for ,sir ,arthur ,pinero to have given us either 7or both7 of two preliminary scenes3 he might have shown us the first ,mrs4 ,tanqueray at home1 and at the same time have introduced us more at large to the characters of ,aubrey and ,ellean2 or he might have depicted for us one of the previous associations of ,paula ,ray--might perhaps have let us see her keeping house with ,hugh ,ardale4 ,but either of these openings would have been disproportionate and superfluous4 ,it would have excited1 or tried to excite1 our interest in something that was not the real theme of the play1 and in characters which were to drop out before the real theme--the ,aubrey-,paula marriage--was reached4 ,therefore the author1 in all probability1 never thought of beginning at either of these points4 ,he passed instinctively to the point at which the two lines of causation converged1 and from which the action could be carried continuously forward by one set of characters4 ,he knew that we could learn in retrospect all that it was necessary for us to know of the first ,mrs4 ,tanqueray1 and that to introduce her in the flesh would be merely to lead the interest of the audience into a blind alley1 and to break the back of his action4 ,again1 in ,his ,house in ,order it may seem that the intrigue between ,maurewarde and the immaculate ,annabel1 with its tragic conclusion1 would have made a stirring introductory act4 ,but to have presented such an act would have been to destroy the unity of the play1 which centres in the character of ,nina4 ,annabel is another story2 and to have told1 or rather shown us1 more of it than was absolutely necessary1 would have been to distract our attention from the real theme of the play1 while at the same time fatally curtailing the all-too-brief time available for the working-out of that theme4 ,there are cases1 no doubt1 when verbal exposition may advantageously be avoided by means of a dramatized ,prologue--a single act1 constituting a little drama in itself1 and generally separated by a considerable space of time from the action proper4 ,but this method is scarcely to be commended1 except1 as aforesaid1 for purposes of melodrama and romance4 ,a ,prologue is for such plays as ,the ,prisoner of ,zenda and ,the ,only ,way1 not for such plays as ,his ,house in ,order4 ,the question whether a legato or a staccato opening be the more desirable must be decided in accordance with the nature and opportunities of each theme4 ,the only rule that can be stated is that1 when the attention of the audience is required for an exposition of any length1 some attempt ought to be made to awaken in advance their general interest in the theme and characters4 ,it is dangerous to plunge straight into narrative1 or unemotional discussion1 without having first made the audience actively desire the information to be conveyed to them4 ,especially is it essential that the audience should know clearly who are the subjects of the discussion or narrative--that they should not be mere names to them4 ,it is a grave flaw in the construction of ,mr4 ,granville ,barker's otherwise admirable play ,waste1 that it should open with a long discussion1 by people whom we scarcely know1 of other people whom we do not know at all1 whose names we may or may not have noted on the playbill4 ,trebell1 ,lord ,charles ,cantelupe1 and ,blackborough ought certainly to have been presented to us in the flesh1 however briefly and summarily1 before we were asked to interest ourselves in their characters and the political situation arising from them4 ,there is1 however1 one limitation to this principle4 ,a great effect is sometimes attained by retarding the entrance of a single leading figure for a whole act1 or even two1 while he is so constantly talked about as to beget in the audience a vivid desire to make his personal acquaintance4 ,thus ,molire's ,tartufe does not come on the stage until the third act of the comedy which bears his name4 ,ibsen's ,john ,gabriel ,borkman is unseen until the second act1 though 7through his wife's ears7 we have already heard him pacing up and down his room like a wolf in his cage4 ,dubedat1 in ,the ,doctor's ,dilemma1 is not revealed to us in the flesh until the second act4 ,but for this device to be successful1 it is essential that only one leading character#e should remain unseen1 on whom the attention of the audience may1 by that very fact1 be riveted4 ,in ,waste1 for instance1 all would have been well had it suited ,mr4 ,barker's purpose to leave ,trebell invisible till the second act1 while all the characters in the first act1 clearly presented to us1 canvassed him from their various points of view4 ,keen expectancy1 in short1 is the most desirable frame of mind in which an audience can be placed1 so long as the expectancy be not ultimately disappointed4 ,but there is no less desirable mental attitude than that of straining after gleams of guidance in an expository twilight4 ,the advantage of a staccato opening--or1 to vary the metaphor1 a brisk1 highly aerated introductory passage--is clearly exemplified in ,a ,doll's ,house4 ,it would have been quite possible for ,ibsen to have sent up his curtain upon ,nora and ,mrs4 ,linden seated comfortably before the stove1 and exchanging confidences as to their respective careers4 ,nothing indispensable would have been omitted2 but how languid would have been the interest of the audience6 ,as it is1 a brief1 bright scene has already introduced us1 not only to ,nora1 but to ,helmer1 and aroused an eager desire for further insight into the affairs of this--to all appearance--radiantly happy household4 ,therefore1 we settle down without impatience to listen to the fireside gossip of the two old school-fellows4 ,the problem of how to open a play is complicated in the ,english theatre by considerations wholly foreign to art4 ,until quite recently1 it used to be held impossible for a playwright to raise his curtain upon his leading character or characters1 because the actor-manager would thus be baulked of his carefully arranged entrance and reception1 and1 furthermore1 because twenty-five per cent of the audience would probably arrive about a quarter of an hour late1 and would thus miss the opening scene or scenes4 ,it used at one time to be the fashion to add to the advertisement of a play an entreaty that the audience should be punctually in their seats1 as the interest began with the rise of the curtain4 ,one has seen this assertion made with regard to plays in which1 as a matter of fact1 the interest had not begun at the fall of the curtain4 ,nowadays1 managers1 and even leading ladies1 are a good deal less insistent on their reception than they used to be4 ,they realize that it may be a distinct advantage to hold the stage from the very outset4 ,there are few more effective openings than that of ,the ,second ,mrs4 ,tanqueray1 where we find ,aubrey ,tanqueray seated squarely at his bachelor dinner-table with ,misquith on his right and ,jayne on his left4 ,it may even be taken as a principle that1 where it is desired to give to one character a special prominence and predominance1 it ought1 if possible1 to be the first figure on which the eye of the audience falls4 ,in a ,sherlock ,holmes play1 for example1 the curtain ought assuredly to rise on the great ,sherlock enthroned in ,baker ,street1 with ,dr4 ,watson sitting at his feet4 ,the solitary entrance of ,richard ,,iii throws his figure into a relief which could by no other means have been attained4 ,so1 too1 it would have been a mistake on ,sophocles' part to let any one but the protagonist open the ,oedipus ,rex4 ,so long as the fashion of late dinners continues1 however1 it must remain a measure of prudence to let nothing absolutely essential to the comprehension of a play be said or done during the first ten minutes after the rise of the curtain4 ,here1 again1 ,a ,doll's ,house may be cited as a model1 though ,ibsen1 certainly1 had no thought of the ,british dinner-hour in planning the play4 ,the opening scene is just what the ideal opening scene ought to be--invaluable1 yet not indispensable4 ,the late-comer who misses it deprives himself of a preliminary glimpse into the characters of ,nora and ,helmer and the relation between them2 but he misses nothing that is absolutely essential to his comprehension of the play as a whole4 ,this1 then1 would appear to be a sound maxim both of art and prudence3 let your first ten minutes by all means be crisp1 arresting1 stimulating1 but do not let them embody any absolutely vital matter1 ignorance of which would leave the spectator in the dark as to the general design and purport of the play4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,see ,chapter ,,xxiii4 ,footnote #b3 ,henri ,becque's two best-known plays aptly exemplify the two types of opening4 ,in ,les ,corbeaux we have almost an entire act of calm domesticity in which the only hint of coming trouble is an allusion to ,vigneron's attacks of vertigo4 ,in ,la ,parisienne ,clotilde and ,lafont are in the thick of a vehement quarrel over a letter4 ,it proceeds for ten minutes or so1 at the end of which ,clotilde says1 ,prenez garde1 voil mon mari6--and we find that the two are not husband and wife1 but wife and lover4 ,footnote #c3 ,mrs4 ,craigie 7,john ,oliver ,hobbes7 opened her very successful play1 ,the ,ambassador1 with a scene between ,juliet ,desborough and her sister ,alice1 a nun1 who apparently left her convent specially to hear her sister's confession1 and then returned to it for ever4 ,this was certainly not an economical form of exposition1 but it was not unsuited to the type of play4 ,footnote #d3 ,in that charming comedy1 ,rosemary1 by ,messrs4 ,parker and ,carson1 there is a gap of fifty years between the last act and its predecessor2 but the so-called last act is only an epi-monologue4 ,footnote #e3 ,or at most two closely connected characters3 for instance1 a husband and wife4 ,,chapter ,,viii ,,the ,,first ,,act ,both in the theory and in practice1 of late years1 war has been declared in certain quarters against the division of a play into acts4 ,students of the ,elizabethan stage have persuaded themselves1 by what ,i believe to be a complete misreading of the evidence1 that ,shakespeare did not1 as it were1 think in acts1 but conceived his plays as continuous series of events1 without any pause or intermission in their flow4 ,it can1 ,i think1 be proved beyond any shadow of doubt that they are wrong in this2 that the act division was perfectly familiar to ,shakespeare1 and was used by him to give to the action of his plays a rhythm which ought not1 in representation1 to be obscured or falsified4 ,it is true that in the ,elizabethan theatre there was no need of long interacts for the change of scenes1 and that such interacts are an abuse that calls for remedy4 ,but we have abundant evidence that the act division was sometimes marked on the ,elizabethan stage1 and have no reason to doubt that it was always more or less recognized1 and was present to ,shakespeare's mind no less than to ,ibsen's or ,pinero's4 ,influenced in part1 perhaps1 by the ,elizabethan theorists1 but mainly by the freakishness of his own genius1 ,mr4 ,bernard ,shaw has taken to writing plays in one continuous gush of dialogue1 and has put forward1 more or less seriously1 the claim that he is thereby reviving the practice of the ,greeks4 ,in a prefatory note to ,getting ,married1 he says-- ,there is a point of some technical interest to be noted in this play4 ,the customary division into acts and scenes has been disused1 and a return made to unity of time and place1 as observed in the ancient ,greek drama4 ,in the foregoing tragedy1 ,the ,doctor's ,dilemma1 there are five acts2 the place is altered five times2 and the time is spread over an undetermined period of more than a year4 ,no doubt the strain on the attention of the audience and on the ingenuity of the playwright is much less2 but ,i find in practice that the ,greek form is inevitable when the drama reaches a certain point in poetic and intellectual evolution4 ,its adoption was not1 on my part1 a deliberate display of virtuosity in form1 but simply the spontaneous falling of a play of ideas into the form most suitable to it1 which turned out to be the classical form4 ,it is hard to say whether ,mr4 ,shaw is here writing seriously or in a mood of solemn facetiousness4 ,perhaps he himself is not quite clear on the point4 ,there can be no harm1 at any rate1 in assuming that he genuinely believes the unity of ,getting ,married to be a return to the unity observed in1 say1 the ,oedipus ,rex1 and examining a little into so pleasant an illusion4 ,it is1 if ,i may so phrase it1 a double-barrelled illusion4 ,getting ,married has not the unity of the ,greek drama1 and the ,greek drama has not the unity of ,getting ,married4 ,whatever unity is predicable of either form of art is a wholly different thing from whatever unity is predicable of the other4 ,mr4 ,shaw1 in fact1 is1 consciously or unconsciously1 playing with words1 very much as ,lamb did when he said to the sportsman1 ,is that your own hare or a wig8 ,there are1 roughly speaking1 three sorts of unity3 the unity of a plum-pudding1 the unity of a string or chain1 and1 the unity of the ,parthenon4 ,let us call them1 respectively1 unity of concoction1 unity of concatenation1 and structural or organic unity4 ,the second form of unity is that of most novels and some plays4 ,they present a series of events1 more or less closely intertwined or interlinked with one another1 but not built up into any symmetrical interdependence4 ,this unity of longitudinal extension does not here concern us1 for it is not that of either ,shaw or ,sophocles4 ,plum-pudding unity1 on the other hand--the unity of a number of ingredients stirred up together1 put in a cloth1 boiled to a certain consistency1 and then served up in a blue flame of lambent humour--that is precisely the unity of ,getting ,married4 ,a jumble of ideas1 prejudices1 points of view1 and whimsicalities on the subject of marriage is tied up in a cloth and boiled into a sort of glutinous fusion or confusion1 so that when the cloth is taken off they do not at once lose the coherent rotundity conferred upon them by pressure from without4 ,in a quite real sense1 the comparison does more than justice to the technical qualities of the play2 for in a good plum-pudding the due proportions of the ingredients are carefully studied1 whereas ,mr4 ,shaw flings in recklessly whatever comes into his head4 ,at the same time it is undeniably true that he shows us a number of people in one room1 talking continuously and without a single pause1 on different aspects of a given theme4 ,if this be unity1 then he has achieved it4 ,in the theatre1 as a matter of fact1 the plum-pudding was served up in three chunks instead of one2 but this was a mere concession to human weakness4 ,the play had all the globular unity of a pill1 though it happened to be too big a pill to be swallowed at one gulp4 ,turning now to the ,oedipus--,i choose that play as a typical example of ,greek tragedy--what sort of unity do we find8 ,it is the unity1 not of a continuous mass or mash1 but of carefully calculated proportion1 order1 interrelation of parts--the unity of a fine piece of architecture1 or even of a living organism4 ,the inorganic continuity of ,getting ,married it does not possess4 ,if that be what we understand by unity1 then ,shaw has it and ,sophocles has not4 ,the ,oedipus is as clearly divided into acts as is ,hamlet or ,hedda ,gabler4 ,in modern parlance1 we should probably call it a play in five acts and an epilogue4 ,it so happened that the ,greek theatre did not possess a curtain1 and did possess a ,chorus2 consequently1 the ,greek dramatist employed the ,chorus1 as we employ the curtain1 to emphasize the successive stages of his action1 to mark the rhythm of its progress1 and1 incidentally1 to provide resting-places for the mind of the audience--intervals during which the strain upon their attention was relaxed1 or at any rate varied4 ,it is not even true that the ,greeks habitually aimed at such continuity of time as we find in ,getting ,married4 ,they treated time ideally1 the imaginary duration of the story being1 as a rule1 widely different from the actual time of representation4 ,in this respect the ,oedipus is something of an exception1 since the events might1 at a pinch1 be conceived as passing within the two hours' traffick of the stage2 but in many cases a whole day1 or even more1 must be understood to be compressed within these two hours4 ,it is true that the continuous presence of the ,chorus made it impossible for the ,greeks to overleap months and years1 as we do on the modern stage2 but they did not aim at that strict coincidence of imaginary with actual time which ,mr4 ,shaw believes himself to have achieved4#a ,even he1 however1 subjects the events which take place behind the scenes to a good deal of ideal compression4 ,of course1 when ,mr4 ,shaw protests that1 in ,getting ,married1 he did not indulge in a deliberate display of virtuosity of form1 that is only his fun4 ,you cannot well have virtuosity of form where there is no form4 ,what he did was to rely upon his virtuosity of dialogue to enable him to dispense with form4 ,whether he succeeded or not is a matter of opinion which does not at present concern us4 ,the point to be noted is the essential difference between the formless continuity of ,getting ,married1 and the sedulous ordering and balancing of clearly differentiated parts1 which went to the structure of a ,greek tragedy4 ,a dramatist who can so develop his story as to bring it within the quasi-,aristotelean unities performs a curious but not particularly difficult or valuable feat2 but this does not1 or ought not to1 imply the abandonment of the act-division1 which is no mere convention1 but a valuable means of marking the rhythm of the story4 ,when1 on the other hand1 you have no story to tell1 the act-division is manifestly superfluous2 but it needs no virtuosity to dispense with it4 ,it is a grave error1 then1 to suppose that the act is a mere division of convenience1 imposed by the limited power of attention of the human mind1 or by the need of the human body for occasional refreshment4 ,a play with a well-marked1 well-balanced act-structure is a higher artistic organism than a play with no act-structure1 just as a vertebrate animal is higher than a mollusc4 ,in every crisis of real life 7unless it be so short as to be a mere incident7 there is a rhythm of rise1 progress1 culmination and solution4 ,we are not always1 perhaps not often1 conscious of these stages2 but that is only because we do not reflect upon our experiences while they are passing1 or map them out in memory when they are past4 ,we do1 however1 constantly apply to real-life crises expressions borrowed more or less directly from the terminology of the drama4 ,we say1 somewhat incorrectly1 ,things have come to a climax1 meaning thereby a culmination2 or we say1 ,the catastrophe is at hand1 or1 again1 ,what a fortunate dnouement6 ,be this as it may1 it is the business of the dramatist to analyse the crises with which he deals1 and to present them to us in their rhythm of growth1 culmination1 solution4 ,to this end the act-division is--not1 perhaps1 essential1 since the rhythm may be marked even in a one-act play--but certainly of enormous and invaluable convenience4 ,si l'acte n'existait pas1 il faudrait l'inventer2 but as a matter of fact it has existed wherever1 in the ,western world1 the drama has developed beyond its rudest beginnings4 ,it was doubtless the necessity for marking this rhythm that ,aristotle had in mind when he said that a dramatic action must have a beginning1 a middle and an end4 ,taken in its simplicity1 this principle would indicate the three-act division as the ideal scheme for a play4 ,as a matter of fact1 many of the best modern plays in all languages fall into three acts2 one has only to note ,monsieur ,alphonse1 ,franillon1 ,la ,parisienne1 ,amoureuse1 ,a ,doll's ,house1 ,ghosts1 ,the ,master ,builder1 ,little ,eyolf1 ,johannisfeuer1 ,caste1 ,candida1 ,the ,benefit of the ,doubt1 ,the ,importance of ,being ,earnest1 ,the ,silver ,box2 and1 furthermore1 many old plays which are nominally in five acts really fall into a triple rhythm1 and might better have been divided into three4 ,alexandrian precept1 handed on by ,horace1 gave to the five act division a purely arbitrary sanction1 which induced playwrights to mask the natural rhythm of their themes beneath this artificial one4#b ,but in truth the three-act division ought no more to be elevated into an absolute rule than the five-act division4 ,we have seen that a play consists1 or ought to consist1 of a great crisis1 worked out through a series of minor crises4 ,an act1 then1 ought to consist either of a minor crisis1 carried to its temporary solution1 or of a well-marked group of such crises2 and there can be no rule as to the number of such crises which ought to present themselves in the development of a given theme4 ,on the modern stage1 five acts may be regarded as the maximum1 simply by reason of the time-limit imposed by social custom on a performance4 ,but one frequently sees a melodrama divided into five acts and eight tableaux1 or even more2 which practically means that the play is in eight1 or nine1 or ten acts1 but that there will be only the four conventional interacts in the course of the evening4 ,the playwright should not let himself be constrained by custom to force his theme into the arbitrary mould of a stated number of acts4 ,three acts is a good number1 four acts is a good number1#c there is no positive objection to five acts4 ,should he find himself hankering after more acts1 he will do well to consider whether he be not1 at one point or another1 failing in the art of condensation and trespassing on the domain of the novelist4 ,there is undoubted convenience in the rule of the modern stage3 ,one act1 one scene4 ,a change of scene in the middle of an act is not only materially difficult1 but tends to impair the particular order of illusion at which the modern drama aims4#d ,roughly1 indeed1 an act may be defined as any part of a given crisis which works itself out at one time and in one place2 but more fundamentally it is a segment of the action during which the author desires to hold the attention of his audience unbroken and unrelaxed4 ,it is no mere convention1 however1 which decrees that the flight of time is best indicated by an interact4 ,when the curtain is down1 the action on the stage remains1 as it were1 in suspense4 ,the audience lets its attention revert to the affairs of real life2 and it is quite willing1 when the mimic world is once more revealed1 to suppose that any reasonable space of time has elapsed while its thoughts were occupied with other matters4 ,it is much more difficult for it to accept a wholly imaginary lapse of time while its attention is centred on the mimic world4 ,some playwrights have of late years adopted the device of dropping their curtain once1 or even twice1 in the middle of an act1 to indicate an interval of a few minutes1 or even of an hour--for instance1 of the time between going in to dinner and the return of the ladies to the drawing-room4 ,sir ,arthur ,pinero employs this device with good effect in ,iris2 so does ,mr4 ,granville ,barker in ,waste1 and ,mr4 ,galsworthy in ,the ,silver ,box4 ,it is certainly far preferable to that ideal treatment of time which was common in the ,french drama of the nineteenth century1 and survives to this day in plays adapted or imitated from the ,french4 ,i remember seeing in ,london1 not very long ago1 a one-act play on the subject of ,rouget de l',isle4 ,in the space of about half-an-hour1 he handed the manuscript of the ,marseillaise to an opera-singer whom he adored1 she took it away and sang it at the ,opera1 it caught the popular ear from that one performance1 and the dying ,rouget heard it sung by the passing multitude in the streets within about fifteen minutes of the moment when it first left his hands4 7,the whole piece1 ,i repeat1 occupied about half-an-hour2 but as a good deal of that time was devoted to preliminaries1 not more than fifteen minutes can have elapsed between the time when the cantatrice left ,rouget's garret and the time when all ,paris was singing the ,marseillaise47 ,this is perhaps an extreme instance of the ideal treatment of time2 but one could find numberless cases in the works of ,scribe1 ,labiche1 and others1 in which the transactions of many hours are represented as occurring within the limits of a single act4 ,our modern practice eschews such licenses4 ,it will often compress into an act of half-an-hour more events than would probably happen in real life in a similar space of time1 but not such a train of occurrences as to transcend the limits of possibility4 ,it must be remembered1 however1 that the standard of verisimilitude naturally and properly varies with the seriousness of the theme under treatment4 ,improbabilities are admissible in light comedy1 and still more in farce1 which would wreck the fortunes of a drama purporting to present a sober and faithful picture of real life4 ,acts1 then1 mark the time-stages in the development of a given crisis2 and each act ought to embody a minor crisis of its own1 with a culmination and a temporary solution4 ,it would be no gain1 but a loss1 if a whole two hours' or three hours' action could be carried through in one continuous movement1 with no relaxation of the strain upon the attention of the audience1 and without a single point at which the spectator might review what was past and anticipate what was to come4 ,the act-division positively enhances the amount of pleasurable emotion through which the audience passes4 ,each act ought to stimulate and temporarily satisfy an interest of its own1 while definitely advancing the main action4 ,the psychological principle is evident enough2 namely1 that there is more sensation to be got out of three or four comparatively brief experiences1 suited to our powers of perception1 than out of one protracted experience1 forced on us without relief1 without contrast1 in such a way as to fatigue and deaden our faculties4 ,who would not rather drink three1 four1 or five glasses of wine than put the bottle to his lips and let its contents pour down his throat in one long draught8 ,who would not rather see a stained-glass window broken into three1 four1 or five cunningly-proportioned lights1 than a great flat sheet of coloured glass1 be its design never so effective8 ,it used to be the fashion in mid ,victorian melodramas to give each act a more or less alluring title of its own4 ,i am far from recommending the revival of this practice2 but it might be no bad plan for a beginner1 in sketching out a play1 to have in his mind1 or in his private notes1 a descriptive head-line for each act1 thereby assuring himself that each had a character of its own1 and at the same time contributed its due share to the advancement of the whole design4 ,let us apply this principle to a ,shakespearean play--for example1 to ,macbeth4 ,the act headings might run somewhat as follows-- ,,act ,i4--,,temptation4 ,,act ,,ii4--,,murder ,,and ,,usurpation4 ,,act ,,iii4--,,the ,,frenzy ,,of ,,crime ,,and ,,the ,,haunting ,,of ,,remorse4 ,,act ,,iv4--,,gathering ,,retribution4 ,,act ,v4--,,retribution ,,consummated4 ,can it be doubted that ,shakespeare had in his mind the rhythm marked by this act-division8 ,i do not mean1 of course1 that these phrases1 or anything like them1 were present to his consciousness1 but merely that he thought in acts1 and mentally assigned to each act its definite share in the development of the crisis4 ,turning now to ,ibsen1 let us draw up an act-scheme for the simplest and most straightforward of his plays1 ,an ,enemy of the ,people4 ,it might run as follows3 ,,act ,i4--,,the ,,incurable ,,optimist4--,dr4 ,stockmann announces his discovery of the insanitary condition of the ,baths4 ,,act ,,ii4--,,the ,,compact ,,majority4--,dr4 ,stockmann finds that he will have to fight vested interests before the evils he has discovered can be remedied1 but is assured that the ,compact ,majority is at his back4 ,,act ,,iii4--,,the ,,turn ,,of ,,fortune4--,the ,doctor falls from the pinnacle of his optimistic confidence1 and learns that he will have the ,compact ,majority1 not at1 but on his back4 ,,act ,,iv4--,,the ,,compact ,,majority ,,on ,,the ,,warpath4--,the crowd1 finding that its immediate interests are identical with those of the privileged few1 joins with the bureaucracy in shouting down the truth1 and organizing a conspiracy of silence4 ,,act ,v4--,,optimism ,,disillusioned ,,but ,,indomitable4--,dr4 ,stockmann1 gagged and thrown back into poverty1 is tempted to take flight1 but determines to remain in his native place and fight for its moral1 if not for its physical1 sanitation4 ,each of these acts is a little drama in itself1 while each leads forward to the next1 and marks a distinct phase in the development of the crisis4 ,when the younger ,dumas asked his father1 that master of dramatic movement1 to initiate him into the secret of dramatic craftsmanship1 the great ,alexandre replied in this concise formula3 ,let your first act be clear1 your last act brief1 and the whole interesting4 ,of the wisdom of the first clause there can be no manner of doubt4 ,whether incidentally or by way of formal exposition1 the first act ought to show us clearly who the characters are1 what are their relations and relationships1 and what is the nature of the gathering crisis4 ,it is very important that the attention of the audience should not be overstrained in following out needlessly complex genealogies and kinships4 ,how often1 at the end of a first act1 does one turn to one's neighbour and say1 ,are ,edith and ,adela sisters or only half-sisters8 or1 ,did you gather what was the villain's claim to the title8 ,if a story cannot be made clear without an elaborate study of one or more family trees1 beware of it4 ,in all probability1 it is of very little use for dramatic purposes4 ,but before giving it up1 see whether the relationships1 and other relations1 cannot be simplified4 ,complexities which at first seemed indispensable will often prove to be mere useless encumbrances4 ,in ,pillars of ,society ,ibsen goes as far as any playwright ought to go in postulating fine degrees of kinship--and perhaps a little further4 ,karsten ,bernick has married into a family whose gradations put something of a strain on the apprehension and memory of an audience4 ,we have to bear in mind that ,mrs4 ,bernick has 7a7 a half-sister1 ,lona ,hessel2 7b7 a full brother1 ,johan ,tnnesen2 7c7 a cousin1 ,hilmar ,tnnesen4 ,then ,bernick has an unmarried sister1 ,martha2 another relationship1 however simple1 to be borne in mind4 ,and1 finally1 when we see ,dina ,dorf living in ,bernick's house1 and know that ,bernick has had an intrigue with her mother1 we are apt to fall into the error of supposing her to be ,bernick's daughter4 ,there is only one line which proves that this is not so--a remark to the effect that1 when ,madam ,dorf came to the town4 ,dina was already old enough to run about and play angels in the theatre4 ,any one who does not happen to hear or notice this remark1 is almost certain to misapprehend ,dina's parentage4 ,taking one thing with another1 then1 the ,bernick family group is rather more complex than is strictly desirable4 ,ibsen's reasons for making ,lona ,hessel a half-sister instead of a full sister of ,mrs4 ,bernick are evident enough4 ,he wanted her to be a considerably older woman1 of a very different type of character2 and it was necessary1 in order to explain ,karsten's desertion of ,lona for ,betty1 that the latter should be an heiress1 while the former was penniless4 ,these reasons are clear and apparently adequate2 yet it may be doubted whether the dramatist did not lose more than he gained by introducing even this small degree of complexity4 ,it was certainly not necessary to explain the difference of age and character between ,lona and ,betty2 while as for the money1 there would have been nothing improbable in supposing that a wealthy uncle had marked his disapproval of ,lona's strong-mindedness by bequeathing all his property to her younger sister4 ,again1 there is no reason why ,hilmar should not have been a brother of ,johan and ,betty2#e in which case we should have had the simple family group of two brothers and two sisters1 instead of the comparatively complex relationship of a brother and sister1 a half-sister and a cousin4 ,these may seem very trivial considerations3 but nothing is really trivial when it comes to be placed under the powerful lens of theatrical presentation4 ,any given audience has only a certain measure of attention at command1 and to claim attention for inessentials is to diminish the stock available for essentials4 ,in only one other play does ,ibsen introduce any complexity of relationship1 and in that case it does not appear in the exposition1 but is revealed at a critical moment towards the close4 ,in ,little ,eyolf1 ,asta and ,allmers are introduced to us at first as half-sister and half-brother2 and only at the end of the second act does it appear that ,asta's mother 7,allmers' stepmother7 was unfaithful to her husband1 and that1 ,asta being the fruit of this infidelity1 there is no blood kinship between her and ,allmers4 ,the danger of relying upon such complexities is shown by the fact that so acute a critic as ,m4 ,jules ,lematre1 in writing of ,little ,eyolf1 mistook the situation1 and thought that ,asta fled from ,allmers because he was her brother1 whereas in fact she fled because he was not4 ,i had the honour of calling ,m4 ,lematre's attention to this error1 which he handsomely acknowledged4 ,complexities of kinship are1 of course1 not the only complexities which should1 so far as possible1 be avoided4 ,every complexity of relation or of antecedent circumstance is in itself a weakness1 which1 if it cannot be eliminated1 must1 so to speak1 be lived down4 ,no dramatic critic1 ,i think1 can have failed to notice that the good plays are those of which the story can be clearly indicated in ten lines2 while it very often takes a column to give even a confused idea of the plot of a bad play4 ,here1 then1 is a preliminary test which may be commended to the would-be playwright1 in order to ascertain whether the subject he is contemplating is or is not a good one3 can he state the gist of it in a hundred words or so1 like the argument of a ,boccaccian novella8 ,the test1 of course1 is far from being infallible2 for a theme may err on the side of over-simplicity or emptiness1 no less than on the side of over-complexity4 ,but it is1 at any rate1 negatively useful3 if the playwright finds that he cannot make his story comprehensible without a long explanation of an intricate network of facts1 he may be pretty sure that he has got hold of a bad theme1 or of one that stands sorely in need of simplification4#f ,it is not sufficient1 however1 that a first act should fulfil ,dumas's requirement by placing the situation clearly before us3 it ought also to carry us some way towards the heart of the drama1 or1 at the very least1 to point distinctly towards that quarter of the horizon where the clouds are gathering up4 ,in a three-act play this is evidently demanded by the most elementary principles of proportion4 ,it would be absurd to make one-third of the play merely introductory1 and to compress the whole action into the remaining two-thirds4 ,but even in a four- or five-act play1 the interest of the audience ought to be strongly enlisted1 and its anticipation headed in a definite direction1 before the curtain falls for the first time4 ,when we find a dramatist of repute neglecting this principle1 we may suspect some reason with which art has no concern4 ,several of ,sardou's social dramas begin with two acts of more or less smart and entertaining satire or caricature1 and only at the end of the second or beginning of the third act 7out of five7 does the drama proper set in4 ,what was the reason of this8 ,simply that under the system of royalties prevalent in ,france1 it was greatly to the author's interest that his play should fill the whole evening4 ,sardou needed no more than three acts for the development of his drama2 to have spread it out thinner would have been to weaken and injure it2 wherefore he preferred to occupy an hour or so with clever dramatic journalism1 rather than share the evening1 and the fees1 with another dramatist4 ,so1 at least1 ,i have heard his practice explained2 perhaps his own account of the matter may have been that he wanted to paint a broad social picture to serve as a background for his action4 ,the question how far an audience ought to be carried towards the heart of a dramatic action in the course of the first act is always and inevitably one of proportion4 ,it is clear that too much ought not to be told1 so as to leave the remaining acts meagre and spun-out2 nor should any one scene be so intense in its interest as to outshine all subsequent scenes1 and give to the rest of the play an effect of anti-climax4 ,if the strange and fascinating creations of ,ibsen's last years were to be judged by ordinary dramaturgic canons1 we should have to admit that in ,little ,eyolf he was guilty of the latter fault1 since in point of sheer strength1 in the common acceptation of the word1 the situation at the end of the first act could scarcely be outdone1 in that play or any other4 ,the beginner1 however1 is far more likely to put too little than too much into his first act3 he is more likely to leave our interest insufficiently stimulated than to carry us too far in the development of his theme4 ,my own feeling is that1 as a general rule1 what ,freytag calls the erregende ,moment ought by all means to fall within the first act4 ,what is the erregende ,moment8 ,one is inclined to render it the firing of the fuse4 ,in legal parlance1 it might be interpreted as the joining of issue4 ,it means the point at which the drama1 hitherto latent1 plainly declares itself4 ,it means the germination of the crisis1 the appearance on the horizon of the cloud no bigger than a man's hand4 ,i suggest1 then1 that this erregende ,moment ought always to come within the first act--if it is to come at all ,there are plays1 as we have seen1 which depict life on so even a plane that it is impossible to say at any given point1 ,here the drama sets in1 or ,the interest is heightened there4 ,pillars of ,society is1 in a sense1 ,ibsen's prentice-work in the form of drama which he afterwards perfected2 wherefore it affords us numerous illustrations of the problems we have to consider4 ,does he1 or does he not1 give us in the first act sufficient insight into his story8 ,i am inclined to answer the question in the negative4 ,the first act puts us in possession of the current version of the ,bernick-,tnnesen family history1 but it gives us no clear indication that this version is an elaborate tissue of falsehoods4 ,it is true that ,bernick's evident uneasiness and embarrassment at the mere idea of the reappearance of ,lona and ,johan may lead us to suspect that all is not as it seems2 but simple annoyance at the inopportune arrival of the black sheep of the family might be sufficient to account for this4 ,to all intents and purposes1 we are completely in the dark as to the course the drama is about to take2 and when1 at the end of the first act1 ,lona ,hessel marches in and flutters the social dovecote1 we do not know in what light to regard her1 or why we are supposed to sympathize with her4 ,the fact that she is eccentric1 and that she talks of letting in fresh air1 combines with our previous knowledge of the author's idiosyncrasy to assure us that she is his heroine2 but so far as the evidence actually before us goes1 we have no means of forming even the vaguest provisional judgment as to her true character4 ,this is almost certainly a mistake in art4 ,it is useless to urge that sympathy and antipathy are primitive emotions1 and that we ought to be able to regard a character objectively1 rating it as true or false1 not as attractive or repellent4 ,the answer to this is twofold4 ,firstly1 the theatre has never been1 and never will be1 a moral dissecting room1 nor has the theatrical audience anything in common with a class of students dispassionately following a professor's demonstration of cold scientific facts4 ,secondly1 in the particular case in point1 the dramatist makes a manifest appeal to our sympathies4 ,there can be no doubt that we are intended to take ,lona's part1 as against the representatives of propriety and convention assembled at the sewing-bee2 but we have been vouchsafed no rational reason for so doing4 ,in other words1 the author has not taken us far enough into his action to enable us to grasp the true import and significance of the situation4 ,he relies for his effect either on the general principle that an eccentric character must be sympathetic1 or on the knowledge possessed by those who have already seen or read the rest of the play4 ,either form of reliance is clearly inartistic4 ,the former appeals to irrational prejudice2 the latter ignores what we shall presently find to be a fundamental principle of the playwright's art--namely1 that1 with certain doubtful exceptions in the case of historical themes1 he must never assume previous knowledge either of plot or character on the part of his public1 but must always have in his mind's eye a first-night audience1 which knows nothing but what he chooses to tell it4 ,my criticism of the first act of ,pillars of ,society may be summed up in saying that the author has omitted to place in it the erregende ,moment4 ,the issue is not joined1 the true substance of the drama is not clear to us1 until1 in the second act1 ,bernick makes sure there are no listeners1 and then holds out both hands to ,johan1 saying3 ,johan1 now we are alone2 now you must give me leave to thank you1 and so forth4 ,why should not this scene have occurred in the first act8 ,materially1 there is no reason whatever4 ,it would need only the change of a few words to lift the scene bodily out of the second act and transfer it to the first4 ,why did ,ibsen not do so8 ,his reason is not hard to divine2 he wished to concentrate into two great scenes1 with scarcely a moment's interval between them1 the revelation of ,bernick's treachery1 first to ,johan1 second to ,lona4 ,he gained his point3 the sledge-hammer effect of these two scenes is undeniable4 ,but it remains a question whether he did not make a disproportionate sacrifice2 whether he did not empty his first act in order to overfill his second4 ,i do not say he did3 ,i merely propound the question for the student's consideration4 ,one thing we must recognize in dramatic art as in all other human affairs2 namely1 that perfection1 if not unattainable1 is extremely rare4 ,we have often to make a deliberate sacrifice at one point in order to gain some greater advantage at another2 to incur imperfection here that we may achieve perfection there4 ,it is no disparagement to the great masters to admit that they frequently show us rather what to avoid than what to do4 ,negative instruction1 indeed1 is in its essence more desirable than positive4 ,the latter tends to make us mere imitators1 whereas the former1 in saving us from dangers1 leaves our originality unimpaired4 ,it is curious to note that1 in another play1 ,ibsen did actually transfer the erregende ,moment1 the joining of issue1 from the second act to the first4 ,in his early draft of ,rosmersholm1 the great scene in which ,rosmer confesses to ,kroll his change of views did not occur until the second act4 ,there can be no doubt that the balance and proportion of the play gained enormously by the transference4 ,after all1 however1 the essential question is not how much or how little is conveyed to us in the first act1 but whether our interest is thoroughly aroused1 and1 what is of equal importance1 skilfully carried forward4 ,before going more at large into this very important detail of the playwright's craft1 it may be well to say something of the nature of dramatic interest in general4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,there are several cases in ,greek drama in which a hero leaves the stage to fight a battle and returns victorious in a few minutes4 ,see1 for example1 the ,supplices of ,euripides4 ,footnote #b3 ,so far was ,shakespeare from ignoring the act-division that it is a question whether his art did not sometimes suffer from the supposed necessity of letting a fourth act intervene between the culmination in the third act and the catastrophe in the fifth4 ,footnote #c3 ,i think it may be said that the majority of modern serious plays are in four acts4 ,it is a favourite number with ,sir ,arthur ,pinero1 ,mr4 ,henry ,arthur ,jones1 ,mr4 ,clyde ,fitch1 and ,mr4 ,alfred ,sutro4 ,footnote #d3 ,this must not be taken to mean that in no case is a change of scene within the act advisable4 ,the point to be considered is whether the author does or does not want to give the audience time for reflection--time to return to the real world--between two episodes4 ,if it is of great importance that they should not do so1 then a rapid change of scene may be the less of two evils4 ,in this case the lights should be kept lowered in order to show that no interact is intended2 but the fashion of changing the scene on a pitch-dark stage1 without dropping the curtain1 is much to be deprecated4 ,if the revolving stage should ever become a common institution in ,english-speaking countries1 dramatists would doubtless be more tempted than they are at present to change their scenes within the act2 but ,i doubt whether the tendency would be wholly advantageous4 ,no absolute rule1 however1 can be laid down1 and it may well be maintained that a true dramatic artist could only profit by the greater flexibility of his medium4 ,footnote #e3 ,he was1 in the first draft2 and ,lona ,hessel was only a distant relative of ,bernick's4 ,footnote #f3 ,the ,greeks1 who knew most things1 knew the value of manageable dimensions and simple structure in a work of art1 and had a word to express that combination of qualities--the word eusynopton4 ,,chapter ,,ix ,,curiosity ,,and ,,interest ,the paradox of dramatic theory is this3 while our aim is1 of course1 to write plays which shall achieve immortality1 or shall at any rate become highly popular1 and consequently familiar in advance to a considerable proportion of any given audience1 we are all the time studying how to awaken and to sustain that interest1 or1 more precisely1 that curiosity1 which can be felt only by those who see the play for the first time1 without any previous knowledge of its action4 ,under modern conditions especially1 the spectators who come to the theatre with their minds an absolute blank as to what is awaiting them1 are comparatively few2 for newspaper criticism and society gossip very soon bruit abroad a general idea of the plot of any play which attains a reasonable measure of success4 ,why1 then1 should we assume1 in the ideal spectator to whom we address ourselves1 a state of mind which1 we hope and trust1 will not be the state of mind of the majority of actual spectators8 ,to this question there are several answers4 ,the first and most obvious is that to one audience1 at any rate1 every play must be absolutely new1 and that it is this first-night audience which in great measure determines its success or failure4 ,many plays have survived a first-night failure1 and still more have gone off in a rapid decline after a first-night success4 ,but these caprices of fortune are not to be counted on4 ,the only prudent course is for the dramatist to direct all his thought and care towards conciliating or dominating an audience to which his theme is entirely unknown1#a and so coming triumphant through his first-night ordeal4 ,this principle is subject to a certain qualification in the case of historic and legendary themes4 ,in treating such subjects1 the dramatist is not relieved of the necessity of developing his story clearly and interestingly1 but has1 on the contrary1 an additional charge imposed upon him--that of not flagrantly defying or disappointing popular knowledge or prejudice4 ,charles ,i must not die in a green old age1 ,oliver ,cromwell must not display the manners and graces of ,sir ,charles ,grandison1 ,charles ,,ii must not be represented as a model of domestic virtue4 ,historians may indict a hero or whitewash a villain at their leisure2 but to the dramatist a hero must be 7more or less7 a hero1 a villain 7more or less7 a villain1 if accepted tradition so decrees it4#b ,thus popular knowledge can scarcely be said to lighten a dramatist's task1 but rather to impose a new limitation upon him4 ,in some cases1 however1 he can rely on a general knowledge of the historic background of a given period1 which may save him some exposition4 ,an ,english audience1 for instance1 does not require to be told what was the difference between ,cavaliers and ,roundheads2 nor does any audience1 ,i imagine1 look for a historical disquisition on the ,reign of ,terror4 ,the dramatist has only to bring on some ruffianly characters in ,phrygian caps1 who address each other as ,citizen and ,citizeness1 and at once the imagination of the audience will supply the roll of the tumbrels and the silhouette of the guillotine in the background4 ,to return to the general question3 not only must the dramatist reckon with one all-important audience which is totally ignorant of the story he has to tell2 he must also bear in mind that it is very easy to exaggerate the proportion of any given audience which will know his plot in advance1 even when his play has been performed a thousand times4 ,there are inexhaustible possibilities of ignorance in the theatrical public4 ,a story is told1 on pretty good authority1 of a late eminent statesman who visited the ,lyceum one night when ,sir ,henry ,irving was appearing as ,hamlet4 ,after the third act he went to the actor's dressing-room1 expressed great regret that duty called him back to ,westminster1 and begged ,sir ,henry to tell him how the play ended1 as it had interested him greatly4#c ,one of our most eminent novelists has assured me that he never saw or read ,macbeth until he was present at 7,i think7 ,mr4 ,forbes ,robertson's revival of the play1 he being then nearer fifty than forty4 ,these1 no doubt1 are freak instances2 but in any given audience1 even at the most hackneyed classical plays1 there will be a certain percentage of children 7who contribute as much as their elders to the general temper of an audience71 and also a percentage of adult ignoramuses4 ,and if this be so in the case of plays which have held the stage for generations1 are studied in schools1 and are every day cited as matters of common knowledge1 how much more certain may we be that even the most popular modern play will have to appeal night after night to a considerable number of people who have no previous acquaintance with either its story or its characters6 ,the playwright may absolutely count on having to make such an appeal2 but he must remember at the same time that he can by no means count on keeping any individual effect1 more especially any notable trick or device1 a secret from the generality of his audience4 ,mr4 ,j4,m4 ,barrie 7to take a recent instance7 sedulously concealed1 throughout the greater part of ,little ,mary1 what was meant by that ever-recurring expression1 and probably relied to some extent on an effect of amused surprise when the disclosure was made4 ,on the first night1 the effect came off happily enough2 but on subsequent nights1 there would rarely be a score of people in the house who did not know the secret4 ,the great majority might know nothing else about the play1 but that they knew4 ,similarly1 in the case of any mechanical truc1 as the ,french call it1 or feat of theatrical sleight-of-hand1 it is futile to trust to its taking unawares any audience after the first4 ,nine-tenths of all subsequent audiences are sure to be on the look-out for it1 and to know1 or think they know1 how it's done4#d ,these are the things which theatrical gossip1 printed and oral1 most industriously disseminates4 ,the fine details of a plot are much less easily conveyed and less likely to be remembered4 ,to sum up this branch of the argument3 however oft-repeated and much-discussed a play may be1 the playwright must assume that in every audience there will be an appreciable number of persons who know practically nothing about it1 and whose enjoyment will depend1 like that of the first-night audience1 on the skill with which he develops his story4 ,on the other hand1 he can never rely on taking an audience by surprise at any particular point4 ,the class of effect which depends on surprise is precisely the class of effect which is certain to be discounted4#e ,we come now to a third reason why a playwright is bound to assume that the audience to which he addresses himself has no previous knowledge of his fable4 ,it is simply that no other assumption has1 or can have1 any logical basis4 ,if the audience is not to be conceived as ignorant1 how much is it to be assumed to know8 ,there is clearly no possible answer to this question1 except a purely arbitrary one1 having no relation to the facts4 ,in any audience after the first1 there will doubtless be a hundred degrees of knowledge and of ignorance4 ,many people will know nothing at all about the play2 some people will have seen or read it yesterday1 and will thus know all there is to know2 while between these extremes there will be every variety of clearness or vagueness of knowledge4 ,some people will have read and remembered a detailed newspaper notice2 others will have read the same notice and forgotten almost all of it4 ,some will have heard a correct and vivid account of the play1 others a vague and misleading summary4 ,it would be absolutely impossible to enumerate all the degrees of previous knowledge which are pretty certain to be represented in an average audience2 and to which degree of knowledge is the playwright to address himself8 ,if he is to have any firm ground under his feet1 he must clearly adopt the only logical course1 and address himself to a spectator assumed to have no previous knowledge whatever4 ,to proceed on any other assumption would not only be to ignore the all-powerful first-night audience1 but to plunge into a veritable morass of inconsistencies1 dubieties and slovenlinesses4 ,these considerations1 however1 have not yet taken us to the heart of the matter4 ,we have seen that the dramatist has no rational course open to him but to assume complete ignorance in his audience2 but we have also seen that1 as a matter of fact1 only one audience will be entirely in this condition1 and that1 the more successful the play is1 the more widely will subsequent audiences tend to depart from it4 ,does it not follow that interest of plot1 interest of curiosity as to coming events1 is at best an evanescent factor in a play's attractiveness--of a certain importance1 no doubt1 on the first night1 but less and less efficient the longer the play holds the stage8 ,in a sense1 this is undoubtedly true4 ,we see every day that a mere story-play--a play which appeals to us solely by reason of the adroit stimulation and satisfaction of curiosity--very rapidly exhausts its success4 ,no one cares to see it a second time2 and spectators who happen to have read the plot in advance1 find its attraction discounted even on a first hearing4 ,but if we jump to the conclusion that the skilful marshalling and development of the story is an unimportant detail1 which matters little when once the first-night ordeal is past1 we shall go very far astray4 ,experience shows us that dramatic interest is entirely distinct from mere curiosity1 and survives when curiosity is dead4 ,though a skilfully-told story is not of itself enough to secure long life for a play1 it materially and permanently enhances the attractions of a play which has other and higher claims to longevity4 ,character1 poetry1 philosophy1 atmosphere1 are all very good in their way2 but they all show to greater advantage by aid of a well-ordered fable4 ,in a picture1 ,i take it1 drawing is not everything2 but drawing will always count for much4 ,this separation of interest from curiosity is partly explicable by one very simple reflection4 ,however well we may know a play beforehand1 we seldom know it by heart or nearly by heart2 so that1 though we may anticipate a development in general outline1 we do not clearly foresee the ordering of its details1 which1 therefore1 may give us almost the same sort of pleasure that it gave us when the story was new to us4 ,most playgoers will1 ,i think1 bear me out in saying that we constantly find a great scene or act to be in reality richer in invention and more ingenious in arrangement than we remembered it to be4 ,we come1 now1 to another point that must not be overlooked4 ,it needs no subtle introspection to assure us that we1 the audience1 do our own little bit of acting1 and instinctively place ourselves at the point of view of a spectator before whose eyes the drama is unrolling itself for the first time4 ,if the play has any richness of texture1 we have many sensations that he cannot have4 ,we are conscious of ironies and subtleties which necessarily escape him1 or which he can but dimly divine4 ,but in regard to the actual development of the story1 we imagine ourselves back into his condition of ignorance1 with this difference1 that we can more fully appreciate the dramatist's skill1 and more clearly resent his clumsiness or slovenliness4 ,our sensations1 in short1 are not simply conditioned by our knowledge or ignorance of what is to come4 ,the mood of dramatic receptivity is a complex one4 ,we instinctively and without any effort remember that the dramatist is bound by the rules of the game1 or1 in other words1 by the inherent conditions of his craft1 to unfold his tale before an audience to which it is unknown2 and it is with implicit reference to these conditions that we enjoy and appreciate his skill4 ,even the most unsophisticated audience realizes in some measure that the playwright is an artist presenting a picture of life under such-and-such assumptions and limitations1 and appraises his skill by its own vague and instinctive standards4 ,as our culture increases1 we more and more consistently adopt this attitude1 and take pleasure in a playwright's marshalling of material in proportion to its absolute skill1 even if that skill no longer produces its direct and pristine effect upon us4 ,in many cases1 indeed1 our pleasure consists of a delicate blending of surprise with realized anticipation4 ,we foresaw1 and are pleased to recognize1 the art of the whole achievement1 while details which had grown dim to us give us each its little thrill of fresh admiration4 ,regarded in this aspect1 a great play is like a great piece of music3 we can hear it again and again with ever-new realization of its subtle beauties1 its complex harmonies1 and with unfailing interest in the merits and demerits of each particular rendering4 ,but we must look deeper than this if we would fully understand the true nature of dramatic interest4 ,the last paragraph has brought us to the verge of the inmost secret1 but we have yet to take the final step4 ,we have yet to realize that1 in truly great drama1 the foreknowledge possessed by the audience is not a disadvantage with certain incidental mitigations and compensations1 but is the source of the highest pleasure which the theatre is capable of affording us4 ,in order to illustrate my meaning1 ,i propose to analyse a particular scene1 not1 certainly1 among the loftiest in dramatic literature1 but particularly suited to my purpose1 inasmuch as it is familiar to every one1 and at the same time full of the essential qualities of drama4 ,i mean the ,screen ,scene in ,the ,school for ,scandal4 ,in her ,english ,men of ,letters volume on ,sheridan1 ,mrs4 ,oliphant discusses this scene4 ,speaking in particular of the moment at which the screen is overturned1 revealing ,lady ,teazle behind it1 she says-- ,it would no doubt have been higher art could the dramatist have deceived his audience as well as the personages of the play1 and made us also parties in the surprise of the discovery4 ,there could scarcely be a completer reversal of the truth than this hopeless comment1 as ,professor ,brander ,matthews has justly called it4 ,the whole effect of the long and highly-elaborated scene depends upon our knowledge that ,lady ,teazle is behind the screen4 ,had the audience either not known that there was anybody there1 or supposed it to be the little ,french milliner1 where would have been the breathless interest which has held us through a whole series of preceding scenes8 ,when ,sir ,peter reveals to ,joseph his generous intentions towards his wife1 the point lies in the fact that ,lady ,teazle overhears2 and this is doubly the case when he alludes to ,joseph as a suitor for the hand of ,maria4 ,so1 too1 with the following scene between ,joseph and ,charles2 in itself it would be flat enough2 the fact that ,sir ,peter is listening lends it a certain piquancy2 but this is ten times multiplied by the fact that ,lady ,teazle1 too1 hears all that passes4 ,when ,joseph is called from the room by the arrival of the pretended ,old ,stanley1 there would be no interest in his embarrassment if we believed the person behind the screen to be the ,french milliner4 ,and when ,sir ,peter yields to the temptation to let ,charles into the secret of his brother's frailty1 and we feel every moment more certain that the screen will be overthrown1 where would be the excitement1 the tension1 if we did not know who was behind it8 ,the real drama1 in fact1 passes behind the screen4 ,it lies in the terror1 humiliation1 and disillusionment which we know to be coursing each other through ,lady ,teazle's soul4 ,and all this ,mrs4 ,oliphant would have sacrificed for a single moment of crude surprise6 ,now let us hear ,professor ,matthews's analysis of the effect of the scene4 ,he says3 ,the playgoer's interest is really not so much as to what is to happen as the way in which this event is going to affect the characters involved4 ,he thinks it likely enough that ,sir ,peter will discover that ,lady ,teazle is paying a visit to ,joseph ,surface2 but what he is really anxious to learn is the way the husband will take it4 ,what will ,lady ,teazle have to say when she is discovered where she has no business to be8 ,how will ,sir ,peter receive her excuses8 ,what will the effect be on the future conduct of both husband and wife8 ,these are the questions which the spectators are eager to have answered4 ,this is an admirable exposition of the frame of mind of the ,drury ,lane audience of ,may #h1 #aggg4 who first saw the screen overturned4 ,but in the thousands of audiences who have since witnessed the play1 how many individuals1 on an average1 had any doubt as to what ,lady ,teazle would have to say1 and how ,sir ,peter would receive her excuses8 ,it would probably be safe to guess that1 for a century past1 two-thirds of every audience have clearly foreknown the outcome of the situation4 ,professor ,matthews himself has edited ,sheridan's plays1 and probably knows ,the ,school for ,scandal almost by heart2 yet we may be pretty sure that any reasonably good performance of the ,screen ,scene will to-day give him pleasure not so very much inferior to that which he felt the first time he saw it4 ,in this pleasure1 it is manifest that mere curiosity as to the immediate and subsequent conduct of ,sir ,peter and ,lady ,teazle can have no part4 ,there is absolutely no question which ,professor ,matthews1 or any playgoer who shares his point of view1 is eager to have answered4 ,assuming1 then1 that we are all familiar with the ,screen ,scene1 and assuming that we1 nevertheless1 take pleasure in seeing it reasonably well acted1#f let us try to discover of what elements that pleasure is composed4 ,it is1 no doubt1 somewhat complex4 ,for one thing1 we have pleasure in meeting old friends4 ,sir ,peter1 ,lady ,teazle1 ,charles1 even ,joseph1 are agreeable creatures who have all sorts of pleasant associations for us4 ,again1 we love to encounter not only familiar characters but familiar jokes4 ,like ,goldsmith's ,diggory1 we can never help laughing at the story of ould ,grouse in the gunroom4 ,the best order of dramatic wit does not become stale1 but rather grows upon us4 ,we relish it at least as much at the tenth repetition as at the first4 ,but while these considerations may partly account for the pleasure we take in seeing the play as a whole1 they do not explain why the ,screen ,scene in particular should interest and excite us4 ,another source of pleasure1 as before indicated1 may be renewed recognition of the ingenuity with which the scene is pieced together4 ,however familiar we may be with it1 short of actually knowing it by heart1 we do not recall the details of its dovetailing1 and it is a delight to realize afresh the neatness of the manipulation by which the tension is heightened from speech to speech and from incident to incident4 ,if it be objected that this is a pleasure which the critic alone is capable of experiencing1 ,i venture to disagree4 ,the most unsophisticated playgoer feels the effect of neat workmanship1 though he may not be able to put his satisfaction into words4 ,it is evident1 however1 that the mere intellectual recognition of fine workmanship is not sufficient to account for the emotions with which we witness the ,screen ,scene4 ,a similar1 though1 of course1 not quite identical1 effect is produced by scenes of the utmost simplicity1 in which there is no room for delicacy of dovetailing or neatness of manipulation4 ,where1 then1 are we to seek for the fundamental constituent in dramatic interest1 as distinct from mere curiosity8 ,perhaps ,mrs4 ,oliphant's glaring error may put us on the track of the truth4 ,mrs4 ,oliphant thought that ,sheridan would have shown higher art had he kept the audience1 as well as ,sir ,peter and ,charles1 ignorant of ,lady ,teazle's presence behind the screen4 ,but this1 as we saw1 is precisely the reverse of the truth3 the whole interest of the scene arises from our knowledge of ,lady ,teazle's presence4 ,had ,sheridan fallen into ,mrs4 ,oliphant's mistake1 the little shock of surprise which the first-night audience would have felt when the screen was thrown down would have been no compensation at all for the comparative tameness and pointlessness of the preceding passages4 ,thus we see that the greater part of our pleasure arises precisely from the fact that we know what ,sir ,peter and ,charles do not know1 or1 in other words1 that we have a clear vision of all the circumstances1 relations1 and implications of a certain conjuncture of affairs1 in which two1 at least1 of the persons concerned are ignorantly and blindly moving towards issues of which they do not dream4 ,we are1 in fact1 in the position of superior intelligences contemplating1 with miraculous clairvoyance1 the stumblings and tumblings of poor blind mortals straying through the labyrinth of life4 ,our seat in the theatre is like a throne on the ,epicurean ,olympus1 whence we can view with perfect intelligence1 but without participation or responsibility1 the intricate reactions of human destiny4 ,and this sense of superiority does not pall upon us4 ,when ,othello comes on the scene1 radiant and confident in ,desdemona's love1 our knowledge of the fate awaiting him makes him a hundred times more interesting than could any mere curiosity as to what was about to happen4 ,it is our prevision of ,nora's exit at the end of the last act that lends its dramatic poignancy to her entrance at the beginning of the first4 ,there is nothing absolutely new in this theory4#g ,the irony of fate has long been recognized as one of the main elements of dramatic effect4 ,it has been especially dwelt upon in relation to ,greek tragedy1 of which the themes were all known in advance even to first-day audiences4 ,we should take but little interest in seeing the purple carpet spread for ,agamemnon's triumphal entry into his ancestral halls1 if it were not for our foreknowledge of the net and the axe prepared for him4 ,but1 familiar as is this principle1 ,i am not aware that it has hitherto been extended1 as ,i suggest that it should be1 to cover the whole field of dramatic interest4 ,i suggest that the theorists have hitherto dwelt far too much on curiosity#h--which may be defined as the interest of ignorance--and far too little on the feeling of superiority1 of clairvoyance1 with which we contemplate a foreknown action1 whether of a comic or of a tragic cast4 ,of course the action must be1 essentially if not in every detail1 true to nature4 ,we can derive no sense of superiority from our foreknowledge of an arbitrary or preposterous action2 and that1 ,i take it1 is the reason why a good many plays have an initial success of curiosity1 but cease to attract when their plot becomes familiar4 ,again1 we take no pleasure in foreknowing the fate of wholly uninteresting people2 which is as much as to say that character is indispensable to enduring interest in drama4 ,with these provisos1 ,i suggest a reconstruction of our theories of dramatic interest1 in which mere first-night curiosity shall be relegated to the subordinate place which by right belongs to it4 ,nevertheless1 we must come back to the point that there is always the ordeal of the first night to be faced1 and that the plays are comparatively few which have lived-down a bad first-night4 ,it is true that specifically first-night merit is a trivial matter compared with what may be called thousandth-performance merit2 but it is equally true that there is no inconsistency between the two orders of merit1 and that a play will never be less esteemed on its thousandth performance for having achieved a conspicuous first-night success4 ,the practical lesson which seems to emerge from these considerations is that a wise theatrical policy would seek to diminish the all-importance of the first-night1 and to give a play a greater chance of recovery than it has under present conditions1 from the depressing effect of an inauspicious production4 ,this is the more desirable as its initial misadventure may very likely be due to external and fortuitous circumstances1 wholly unconnected with its inherent qualities4 ,at the same time1 we are bound to recognize that1 from the very nature of the case1 our present inquiry must be far more concerned with first-night than with thousandth-performance merit4 ,craftsmanship can1 within limits1 be acquired1 genius cannot2 and it is craftsmanship that pilots us through the perils of the first performance1 genius that carries us on to the apotheosis of the thousandth4 ,therefore1 our primary concern must be with the arousing and sustaining of curiosity1 though we should never forget that it is only a means to the ultimate enlistment of the higher and more abiding forms of interest4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,the view that the dramatist has only to think of pleasing himself is elsewhere dealt with4 ,footnote #b3 ,two dramatists who have read these pages in proof1 exclaim at this passage4 ,the one says1 ,no1 no6 the other asks1 ,why8 ,i can only reiterate that1 where there exists a strong and generally accepted tradition1 the dramatist not only runs counter to it at his peril1 but goes outside the true domain of his art in so doing4 ,new truth1 in history1 must be established either by new documents1 or by a careful and detailed re-interpretation of old documents2 but the stage is not the place either for the production of documents or for historical exegesis4 ,it is needless to say that where the popular mind is unbiased1 the dramatist's hands are free4 ,for instance1 ,i presume that one might1 in ,england1 take any view one pleased of the character of ,mary4 ,queen of ,scots2 but a highly unfavourable view would scarcely be accepted by ,scottish audiences4 ,similarly1 it would be both dangerous and unprofitable to present on the ,english stage any very damaging scandal about ,queen ,elizabeth4 ,historical criticism1 ,i understand1 does not accept the view that ,robespierre was mainly responsible for the ,reign of ,terror1 and that his death betokened a general revolt against his sanguinary tyranny2 but it would be very hard for any dramatist to secure general acceptance for a more accurate reading of his character and function4 ,some further remarks on this subject will be found in ,chapter ,,xiii4 ,footnote #c3 ,a malicious anecdote to a similar effect was current in the early days of ,sir ,henry ,irving's career4 ,it was said that at ,bristol one night1 when ,mr4 ,irving1 as ,hamlet1 took his call after the first act1 a man turned to his neighbour in the pit and said1 ,can you tell me1 sir1 does that young man appear much in this play8 ,his neighbour informed him that ,hamlet was rather largely concerned in the action1 whereupon the inquirer remarked1 ,oh6 ,then ,i'm off6 ,footnote #d3 ,if it be well done1 it may remain highly effective in spite of being discounted by previous knowledge4 ,for instance1 the clock-trick in ,raffles was none the less amusing because every one was on the look-out for it4 ,footnote #e3 ,the question whether it is ever politic for a playwright to keep a secret from his audience is discussed elsewhere4 ,what ,i have here in mind is not an ordinary secret1 but a more or less tricky effect of surprise4 ,footnote #f3 ,the pleasure received from exceptionally good acting is1 of course1 a different matter4 ,i assume that the acting is merely competent enough to pass muster without irritating us1 and so distracting our attention4 ,footnote #g3 ,i myself expressed it in slightly different terms nearly ten years ago4 ,curiosity1 ,i said1 is the accidental relish of a single night2 whereas the essential and abiding pleasure of the theatre lies in foreknowledge4 ,in relation to the characters in the drama1 the audience are as gods looking before and after4 ,sitting in the theatre1 we taste1 for a moment1 the glory of omniscience4 ,with vision unsealed1 we watch the gropings of purblind mortals after happiness1 and smile at their stumblings1 their blunders1 their futile quests1 their misplaced exultations1 their groundless panics4 ,to keep a secret from us is to reduce us to their level1 and deprive us of our clairvoyant aloofness4 ,there may be a pleasure in that too2 we may join with zest in the game of blind-man's-buff2 but the theatre is in its essence a place where we are privileged to take off the bandage we wear in daily life1 and to contemplate1 with laughter or with tears1 the blindfold gambols of our neighbours4 ,footnote #h3 ,here an acute critic writes3 ,on the whole ,i agree2 but ,i do think there is dramatic interest to be had out of curiosity1 through the identification1 so to speak1 of the audience with the discovering persons on the stage4 ,it is an interest of sympathy1 not to be despised1 rather than an interest of actual curiosity4 ,,chapter ,x ,,foreshadowing1 ,,not ,,forestalling ,we return now to the point at which the foregoing disquisition--it is not a digression--became necessary4 ,we had arrived at the general principle that the playwright's chief aim in his first act ought to be to arouse and carry forward the interest of the audience4 ,this may seem a tolerably obvious statement2 but it is worth while to examine a little more closely into its implications4 ,as to arousing the interest of the audience1 it is clear that very little specific advice can be given4 ,one can only say1 ,find an interesting theme1 state its preliminaries clearly and crisply1 and let issue be joined without too much delay4 ,there can be no rules for finding an interesting theme1 any more than for catching the ,blue ,bird4 ,at a later stage we may perhaps attempt a summary enumeration of themes which are not interesting1 which have exhausted any interest they ever possessed1 and repay careful avoidance4 ,but such an enumeration would be out of place here1 where we are studying principles of form apart from details of matter4 ,the arousing of interest1 however1 is one thing1 the carrying-forward of interest is another2 and on the latter point there are one or two things that may profitably be said4 ,each act1 as we have seen1 should consist of1 or at all events contain1 a subordinate crisis1 contributory to the main crisis of the play3 and the art of act-construction lies in giving to each act an individuality and interest of its own1 without so rounding it off as to obscure even for a moment its subsidiary1 and1 in the case of the first act1 its introductory1 relation to the whole4 ,this is a point which many dramatists ignore or undervalue4 ,very often1 when the curtain falls on a first or a second act1 one says1 ,this is a fairly good act in itself2 but whither does it lead8 what is to come of it all8 ,it awakens no definite anticipation1 and for two pins one would take up one's hat and go home4 ,the author has neglected the art of carrying-forward the interest4 ,it is curious to note that in the most unsophisticated forms of melodrama this art is deliberately ignored4 ,in plays of the type of ,the ,worst ,woman in ,london1 it appears to be an absolute canon of art that every act must have a happy ending--that the curtain must always fall on the hero1 or1 preferably1 the comic man1 in an attitude of triumph1 while the villain and villainess cower before him in baffled impotence4 ,we have perfect faith1 of course1 that the villain will come up smiling in the next act1 and proceed with his nefarious practices2 but1 for the moment1 virtue has it all its own way4 ,this1 however1 is a very artless formula which has somehow developed of recent years2 and it is doubtful whether even the audiences to which these plays appeal would not in reality prefer something a little less inept in the matter of construction4 ,as soon as we get above this level1 at all events1 the fostering of anticipation becomes a matter of the first importance4 ,the problem is1 not to cut short the spectator's interest1 or to leave it fluttering at a loose end1 but to provide it either with a clearly-foreseen point in the next act towards which it can reach onwards1 or with a definite enigma1 the solution of which is impatiently awaited4 ,in general terms1 a bridge should be provided between one act and another1 along which the spectator's mind cannot but travel with eager anticipation4 ,and this is particularly important1 or particularly apt to be neglected1 at the end of the first act4 ,at a later point1 if the interest does not naturally and inevitably carry itself forward1 the case is hopeless indeed4 ,to illustrate what is meant by the carrying-forward of interest1 let me cite one or two instances in which it is achieved with conspicuous success4 ,in ,oscar ,wilde's first modern comedy1 ,lady ,windermere's ,fan1 the heroine1 ,lady ,windermere1 has learnt that her husband has of late been seen to call very frequently at the house of a certain ,mrs4 ,erlynne1 whom nobody knows4 ,her suspicions thus aroused1 she searches her husband's desk1 discovers a private and locked bank-book1 cuts it open1 and finds that one large cheque after another has been drawn in favour of the lady in question4 ,at this inopportune moment1 ,lord ,windermere appears with a request that ,mrs4 ,erlynne shall be invited to their reception that evening4 ,lady ,windermere indignantly refuses1 her husband insists1 and1 finally1 with his own hand1 fills in an invitation-card and sends it by messenger to ,mrs4 ,erlynne4 ,here some playwrights might have been content to finish the act4 ,it is sufficiently evident that ,lady ,windermere will not submit to the apparent insult1 and that something exciting may be looked for at the reception in the following act4 ,but ,oscar ,wilde was not content with this vague expectancy4 ,he first defined it1 and then he underlined the definition1 in a perfectly natural and yet ingenious and skilful way4 ,the day happens to be ,lady ,windermere's birthday1 and at the beginning of the act her husband has given her a beautiful ostrich-feather fan4 ,when he sends off the invitation1 she turns upon him and says1 ,if that woman crosses my threshold1 ,i shall strike her across the face with this fan4 ,here1 again1 many a dramatist might be content to bring down his curtain4 ,the announcement of ,lady ,windermere's resolve carries forward the interest quite clearly enough for all practical purposes4 ,but even this did not satisfy ,wilde4 ,he imagined a refinement1 simple1 probable1 and yet immensely effective1 which put an extraordinarily keen edge upon the expectancy of the audience4 ,he made ,lady ,windermere ring for her butler1 and say3 ,parker1 be sure you pronounce the names of the guests very distinctly to-night4 ,sometimes you speak so fast that ,i miss them4 ,i am particularly anxious to hear the names quite clearly1 so as to make no mistake4 ,i well remember the effect which this little touch produced on the first night4 ,the situation was1 in itself1 open to grave objections4 ,there is no plausible excuse for ,lord ,windermere's obstinacy in forcing ,mrs4 ,erlynne upon his wife1 and risking a violent scandal in order to postpone an explanation which he must know to be ultimately inevitable4 ,though one had not as yet learnt the precise facts of the case1 one felt pretty confident that his lordship's conduct would scarcely justify itself4 ,but interest is largely independent of critical judgment1 and1 for my own part1 ,i can aver that1 when the curtain fell on the first act1 a five-pound note would not have bribed me to leave the theatre without assisting at ,lady ,windermere's reception in the second act4 ,that is the frame of mind which the author should try to beget in his audience2 and ,oscar ,wilde1 then almost a novice1 had1 in this one little passage between ,lady ,windermere and the butler1 shown himself a master of the art of dramatic story-telling4 ,the dramatist has higher functions than mere story-telling2 but this is fundamental1 and the true artist is the last to despise it4#a ,for another example of a first act brought to what one may call a judiciously tantalizing conclusion1 ,i turn to ,mr4 ,r4,c4 ,carton's comedy ,wheels within ,wheels4 ,lord ,eric ,chantrell has just returned from abroad after many years' absence4 ,he drives straight to the bachelor flat of his old chum1 ,egerton ,vartrey4 ,at the flat he finds only his friend's valet1 ,vartrey himself has been summoned to ,scotland that very evening1 and the valet is on the point of following him4 ,he knows1 however1 that his master would wish his old friend to make himself at home in the flat2 so he presently goes off1 leaving the newcomer installed for the night4 ,lord ,eric goes to the bedroom to change his clothes2 and1 the stage being thus left vacant1 we hear a latch-key turning in the outer door4 ,a lady in evening dress enters1 goes up to the bureau at the back of the stage1 and calmly proceeds to break it open and ransack it4 ,while she is thus burglariously employed1 ,lord ,eric enters1 and cannot refrain from a slight expression of surprise4 ,the lady takes the situation with humorous calmness1 they fall into conversation1 and it is manifest that at every word ,lord ,eric is more and more fascinated by the fair house-breaker4 ,she learns who he is1 and evidently knows all about him2 but she is careful to give him no inkling of her own identity4 ,at last she takes her leave1 and he expresses such an eager hope of being allowed to renew their acquaintance1 that it amounts to a declaration of a peculiar interest in her4 ,thereupon she addresses him to this effect3 ,has it occurred to you to wonder how ,i got into your friend's rooms8 ,i will show you how--and1 producing a latch-key1 she holds it up1 with all its questionable implications1 before his eyes4 ,then she lays it on the table1 says3 ,i leave you to draw your own conclusions and departs4 ,a better opening for a light social comedy could scarcely be devised4 ,we have no difficulty in guessing that the lady1 who is not quite young1 and has clearly a strong sense of humour1 is freakishly turning appearances against herself1 by way of throwing a dash of cold water on ,lord ,eric's sudden flame of devotion4 ,but we long for a clear explanation of the whole quaint little episode2 and here1 again1 no reasonable offer would tempt us to leave the theatre before our curiosity is satisfied4 ,the remainder of the play1 though amusing1 is unfortunately not up to the level of the first act2 else ,wheels within ,wheels would be a little classic of light comedy4 ,for a third example of interest carefully carried forward1 ,i turn to a recent ,norwegian play1 ,the ,idyll1 by ,peter ,egge4 ,at the very rise of the curtain1 we find ,inga ,gar1 wife of an author and journalist1 ,dr4 ,gar1 reading1 with evident tokens of annoyance and distaste1 a new book of poems by one ,rolfe ,ringve4 ,before her marriage1 ,inga was an actress of no great talent2 ,ringve made himself conspicuous by praising her far beyond her merits2 and when1 at last1 an engagement between them was announced1 people shrugged their shoulders and said3 ,they are going to regularize the situation4 ,as a matter of fact 7of this we have early assurance71 though ,ringve has been her ardent lover1 ,inga has neither loved him nor been his mistress4 ,ringve being called abroad1 she has1 during his absence1 broken off her engagement to him1 and has then1 about a year before the play opens1 married ,dr4 ,gar1 to whom she is devoted4 ,while ,gar is away on a short lecture tour1 ,ringve has published the book of love-poems which we find her reading4 ,they are very remarkable poems2 they have already made a great stir in the literary world2 and interest is all the keener for the fact that they are evidently inspired by his passion for ,inga1 and are couched in such a tone of intimacy as to create a highly injurious impression of the relations between them4 ,gar1 having just come home1 has no suspicion of the nature of the book2 and when an editor1 who cherishes a grudge against him1 conceives the malicious idea of asking him to review ,ringve's masterpiece1 he consents with alacrity4 ,one or two small incidents have in the meantime shown us that there is a little rift in the idyllic happiness of ,inga and ,gar1 arising from her inveterate habit of telling trifling fibs to avoid facing the petty annoyances of life4 ,for instance1 when ,gar asks her casually whether she has read ,ringve's poems1 a foolish denial slips out1 though she knows that the cut pages of the book will give her the lie4 ,these incidents point to a state of unstable equilibrium in the relations between husband and wife2 wherefore1 when we see ,gar1 at the end of the act1 preparing to read ,ringve's poems1 our curiosity is very keen as to how he will take them4 ,we feel the next hour to be big with fate for these two people2 and we long for the curtain to rise again upon the threatened household4 ,the fuse has been fired2 we are all agog for the explosion4 ,in ,herr ,egge's place1 ,i should have been inclined to have dropped my curtain upon ,gar1 with the light of the reading-lamp full upon him1 in the act of opening the book1 and then to have shown him1 at the beginning of the second act1 in exactly the same position4 ,with more delicate art1 perhaps1 the author interposes a little domestic incident at the end of the first act1 while leaving it clearly impressed on our minds that the reading of the poems is only postponed by a few minutes4 ,that is the essential point3 the actual moment upon which the curtain falls is of minor importance4 ,what is of vast importance1 on the other hand1 is that the expectation of the audience should not be baffled1 and that the curtain should rise upon the immediate sequel to the reading of the poems4 ,this is1 in the exact sense of the words1 a scne faire--an obligatory scene4 ,the author has aroused in us a reasonable expectation of it1 and should he choose to balk us--to raise his curtain1 say1 a week1 or a month1 later--we should feel that we had been trifled with4 ,the general theory of the scne faire will presently come up for discussion4 ,in the meantime1 ,i merely make the obvious remark that it is worse than useless to awaken a definite expectation in the breast of the audience1 and then to disappoint it4#b ,the works of ,sir ,arthur ,pinero afford many examples of interest very skilfully carried forward4 ,in his farces--let no one despise the technical lessons to be learnt from a good farce--there is always an adventure afoot1 whose development we eagerly anticipate4 ,when the curtain falls on the first act of ,the ,magistrate1 we foresee the meeting of all the characters at the ,htel des ,princes1 and are impatient to assist at it4 ,in ,the ,schoolmistress1 we would not for worlds miss ,peggy ,hesseltine's party1 which we know awaits us in ,act ,,ii4 ,an excellent example1 of a more serious order1 is to be found in ,the ,benefit of the ,doubt4 ,when poor ,theo1 rebuffed by her husband's chilly scepticism1 goes off on some manifestly harebrained errand1 we divine1 as do her relatives1 that she is about to commit social suicide by seeking out ,john ,allingham2 and we feel more than curiosity as to the event--we feel active concern1 almost anxiety1 as though our own personal interests were involved4 ,our anticipation is heightened1 too1 when we see ,sir ,fletcher ,portwood and ,mrs4 ,cloys set off upon her track4 ,this gives us a definite point to which to look forward1 while leaving the actual course of events entirely undefined4 ,it fulfils one of the great ends of craftsmanship1 in foreshadowing without forestalling an intensely interesting conjuncture of affairs4 ,i have laid stress on the importance of carrying forward the interest of the audience because it is a detail that is often overlooked4 ,there is1 as a rule1 no difficulty in the matter1 always assuming that the theme be not inherently devoid of interest4 ,one could mention many plays in which the author has1 from sheer inadvertence1 failed to carry forward the interest of the first act1 though a very little readjustment1 or a trifling exercise of invention1 would have enabled him to do so4 ,pillars of ,society1 indeed1 may be taken as an instance1 though not a very flagrant one4 ,such interest as we feel at the end of the first act is vague and unfocused4 ,we are sure that something is to come of the return of ,lona and ,johan1 but we have no inkling as to what that something may be4 ,if we guess that the so-called black sheep of the family will prove to be the white sheep1 it is only because we know that it is ,ibsen's habit to attack respectability and criticize accepted moral values--it is not because of anything that he has told us1 or hinted to us1 in the play itself4 ,in no other case does he leave our interest at such a loose end as in this1 his prentice-work in modern drama4 ,in ,the ,league of ,youth1 an earlier play1 but of an altogether lighter type1 the interest is much more definitely carried forward at the end of the first act4 ,stensgaard has attacked ,chamberlain ,bratsberg in a rousing speech1 and the ,chamberlain has been induced to believe that the attack was directed not against himself1 but against his enemy ,monsen4 ,consequently he invites ,stensgaard to his great dinner-party1 and this invitation ,stensgaard regards as a cowardly attempt at conciliation4 ,we clearly see a crisis looming ahead1 when this misunderstanding shall be cleared up2 and we consequently look forward with lively interest to the dinner-party of the second act--which ends1 as a matter of fact1 in a brilliant scene of comedy4 ,the principle1 to recapitulate1 is simply this3 a good first act should never end in a blank wall4 ,there should always be a window in it1 with at least a glimpse of something attractive beyond4 ,in ,pillars of ,society there is a window1 indeed2 but it is of ground glass4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,that great story-teller1 ,alexandra ,dumas pere1 those a straightforward way of carrying forward the interest at the end of the first act of ,henri ,,iii et sa ,cour4 ,the ,due de ,guise1 insulted by ,saint-,mgrin1 beckons to his henchman and says1 as the curtain falls1 ,qu'on me cherche les mmes hommes qui ont assassin ,dugast6 ,footnote #b3 ,there are limits to the validity of this rule1 as applied to minor incidents4 ,for example1 it may sometimes be a point of art to lead the audience to expect the appearance of one person1 when in fact another is about to enter4 ,but it is exceedingly dangerous to baffle the carefully fostered anticipation of an important scene4 ,see ,chapters ,,xvii and ,,xxi4 ,,book ,,iii ,,the ,,middle ,,chapter ,,xi ,,tension ,,and ,,its ,,suspension ,in the days of the five-act dogma1 each act was supposed to have its special and pre-ordained function4 ,freytag assigns to the second act1 as a rule1 the ,steigerung or heightening--the working-up1 one might call it--of the interest4 ,but the second act1 in modern plays1 has often to do all the work of the three middle acts under the older dispensation2 wherefore the theory of their special functions has more of a historical than of a practical interest4 ,for our present purposes1 we may treat the interior section of a play as a unit1 whether it consist of one1 two1 or three acts4 ,the first act may be regarded as the porch or vestibule through which we pass into the main fabric--solemn or joyous1 fantastic or austere--of the actual drama4 ,sometimes1 indeed1 the vestibule is reduced to a mere threshold which can be crossed in two strides2 but normally the first act1 or at any rate the greater part of it1 is of an introductory character4 ,let us conceive1 then1 that we have passed the vestibule1 and are now to study the principles on which the body of the structure is reared4 ,in the first place1 is the architectural metaphor a just one8 ,is there1 or ought there to be1 any analogy between a drama and a finely-proportioned building8 ,the question has already been touched on in the opening paragraphs of ,chapter ,,viii2 but we may now look into it a little more closely4 ,what is the characteristic of a fine piece of architecture8 ,manifestly an organic relation1 a carefully-planned interdependence1 between all its parts4 ,a great building is a complete and rounded whole1 just like a living organism4 ,it is informed by an inner law of harmony and proportion1 and cannot be run up at haphazard1 with no definite and pre-determined design4 ,can we say the same of a great play8 ,i think we can4 ,even in those plays which present a picture rather than an action1 we ought to recognize a principle of selection1 proportion1 composition1 which1 if not absolutely organic1 is at any rate the reverse of haphazard4 ,we may not always be able to define the principle1 to put it clearly in words2 but if we feel that the author has been guided by no principle1 that he has proceeded on mere hand-to-mouth caprice1 that there is no inner law of harmony and proportion in his work1 then we instinctively relegate it to a low place in our esteem4 ,hauptmann's ,weavers certainly cannot be called a piece of dramatic architecture1 like ,rosmersholm or ,iris2 but that does not mean that it is a mere rambling series of tableaux4 ,it is not easy to define the principle of unity in that brilliant comedy ,the ,madras ,house2 but we nevertheless feel that a principle of unity exists2 or1 if we do not1 so much the worse for the play and its author4 ,there is1 indeed1 a large class of plays1 often popular1 and sometimes meritorious1 in relation to which the architectural metaphor entirely breaks down4 ,they are what may be called running fire plays4 ,we have all seen children setting a number of wooden blocks on end1 at equal intervals1 and then tilting over the first so that it falls against the second1 which in turn falls against the third1 and so on1 till the whole row1 with a rapid clack-clack-clack1 lies flat upon the table4 ,this is called a running fire2 and this is the structural principle of a good many plays4 ,we feel that the playwright is1 so to speak1 inventing as he goes along--that the action1 like the child's fantastic serpentine of blocks1 might at any moment take a turn in any possible direction without falsifying its antecedents or our expectations4 ,no part of it is necessarily involved in any other part4 ,if the play were found too long or too short1 an act might be cut out or written in without necessitating any considerable readjustments in the other acts4 ,the play is really a series of episodes1 ,which might1 odd bobs1 sir6 in judicious hands1 ,extend from here to ,mesopotamy4 ,the episodes may grow out of each other plausibly enough1 but by no pre-ordained necessity1 and with no far-reaching interdependence4 ,we live1 in such plays1 from moment to moment1 foreseeing nothing1 desiring nothing2 and though this frame of mind may be mildly agreeable1 it involves none of that complexity of sensation with which we contemplate a great piece of architecture1 or follow the development of a finely-constructed drama4 ,to this order belong many cape-and-sword plays and detective dramas--plays like ,the ,adventure of ,lady ,ursula1 ,the ,red ,robe1 the ,musketeer romances that were at one time so popular1 and most plays of the ,sherlock ,holmes and ,raffles type4 ,but pieces of a more ambitious order have been known to follow the same formula--some of the works1 for instance1 of ,mr4 ,charles ,mc,evoy1 to say nothing of ,mr4 ,bernard ,shaw4 ,we may take it1 ,i think1 that the architectural analogy holds good of every play which can properly be said to be constructed4 ,construction means dramatic architecture1 or in other words1 a careful pre-arrangement of proportions and interdependencies4 ,but to carry beyond this point the analogy between the two arts would be fantastic and unhelpful4 ,the one exists in space1 the other in time4 ,the one seeks to beget in the spectator a state of placid1 though it may be of aspiring1 contemplation2 the other1 a state of more or less acute tension4 ,the resemblances between music and architecture are1 as is well known1 much more extensive and illuminating4 ,it might not be wholly fanciful to call music a sort of middle term between the two other arts4 ,a great part of the secret of dramatic architecture lies in the one word tension4 ,to engender1 maintain1 suspend1 heighten and resolve a state of tension--that is the main object of the dramatist's craft4 ,what do we mean by tension8 ,clearly a stretching out1 a stretching forward1 of the mind4 ,that is the characteristic mental attitude of the theatrical audience4 ,if the mind is not stretching forward1 the body will soon weary of its immobility and constraint4 ,attention may be called the momentary correlative of tension4 ,when we are intent on what is to come1 we are attentive to what is there and then happening4 ,the term tension is sometimes applied1 not to the mental state of the audience1 but to the relation of the characters on the stage4 ,a scene of high tension is primarily one in which the actors undergo a great emotional strain4 ,but this is1 after all1 only a means towards heightening of the mental tension of the audience4 ,in such a scene the mind stretches forward1 no longer to something vague and distant1 but to something instant and imminent4 ,in discussing what ,freytag calls the erregende ,moment1 we might have defined it as the starting-point of the tension4 ,a reasonable audience will1 if necessary1 endure a certain amount of exposition1 a certain positing of character and circumstance1 before the tension sets in2 but when it once has set in1 the playwright must on no account suffer it to relax until he deliberately resolves it just before the fall of the curtain4 ,there are1 of course1 minor rhythms of tension and resolution1 like the harmonic vibrations of a violin-string4 ,that is implied when we say that a play consists of a great crisis worked out through a series of minor crises4 ,but the main tension1 once initiated1 must never be relaxed4 ,if it is1 the play is over1 though the author may have omitted to note the fact4 ,not infrequently1 he begins a new play under the impression that he is finishing the old one4 ,that is what ,shakespeare did in ,the ,merchant of ,venice4 ,the fifth act is an independent afterpiece1 though its independence is slightly disguised by the fact that the erregende ,moment of the new play follows close upon the end of the old one1 with no interact between4 ,a very exacting technical criticism might accuse ,ibsen of verging towards the same fault in ,an ,enemy of the ,people4 ,there the tension is practically resolved with ,dr4 ,stockmann's ostracism at the end of the fourth act4 ,at that point1 if it did not know that there was another act to come1 an audience might go home in perfect content4 ,the fifth act is a sort of epilogue or sequel1 built out of the materials of the preceding drama1 but not forming an integral part of it4 ,with a brief exposition to set forth the antecedent circumstances1 it would be quite possible to present the fifth act as an independent comedietta4 ,but here a point of great importance calls for our notice4 ,though the tension1 once started1 must never be relaxed3 though it ought1 on the contrary1 to be heightened or tightened 7as you choose to put it7 from act to act2 yet there are times when it may without disadvantage1 or even with marked advantage1 be temporarily suspended4 ,in other words1 the stretching-forward1 without in any way slackening1 may fall into the background of our consciousness1 while other matters1 the relevance of which may not be instantly apparent1 are suffered to occupy the foreground4 ,we know all too well1 in everyday experience1 that tension is not really relaxed by a temporary distraction4 ,the dread of a coming ordeal in the witness-box or on the operating-table may be forcibly crushed down like a child's jack-in-the-box2 but we are always conscious of the effort to compress it1 and we know that it will spring up again the moment that effort ceases4 ,sir ,arthur ,pinero's play1 ,the ,profligate1 was written at a time when it was the fashion to give each act a sub-title2 and one of its acts is headed ,the ,sword of ,damocles4 ,that is1 indeed1 the inevitable symbol of dramatic tension3 we see a sword of ,damocles 7even though it be only a farcical blade of painted lathe7 impending over someone's head3 and when once we are confident that it will fall at the fated moment1 we do not mind having our attention momentarily diverted to other matters4 ,a rather flagrant example of suspended attention is afforded by ,hamlet's advice to the ,players4 ,we know that ,hamlet has hung a sword of ,damocles over the ,king's head in the shape of the mimic murder-scene2 and1 while it is preparing1 we are quite willing to have our attention switched off to certain abstract questions of dramatic criticism4 ,the scene might have been employed to heighten the tension4 ,instead of giving the ,players 7in true princely fashion7 a lesson in the general principles of their art1 ,hamlet might have specially coached them in the business of the scene to be enacted1 and thus doubly impressed on the audience his resolve to tent the ,king to the quick4 ,i am far from suggesting that this would have been desirable2 but it would obviously have been possible4#a ,shakespeare1 as the experience of three centuries has shown1 did right in judging that the audience was already sufficiently intent on the coming ordeal1 and would welcome an interlude of aesthetic theory4 ,there are times1 moreover1 when it is not only permissible to suspend the tension1 but when1 by so doing1 a great artist can produce a peculiar and admirable effect4 ,a sudden interruption1 on the very brink of a crisis1 may1 as it were1 whet the appetite of the audience for what is to come4 ,we see in the ,porter scene in ,macbeth a suspension of this nature2 but ,shakespeare used it sparingly1 unless1 indeed1 we are to consider as a deliberate point of art the retardation of movement commonly observable in the fourth acts of his tragedies4 ,ibsen1 on the other hand1 deliberately employed this device on three conspicuous occasions4 ,the entrance of ,dr4 ,rank in the last act of ,a ,doll's ,house is a wholly unnecessary interruption to the development of the crisis between ,nora and ,helmer4 ,the scene might be entirely omitted without leaving a perceptible hiatus in the action2 yet who does not feel that this brief respite lends gathered impetus to the main action when it is resumed8 ,the other instances are offered by the two apparitions of ,ulric ,brendel in ,rosmersholm4 ,the first occurs when ,rosmer is on the very verge of his momentous confession to ,kroll1 the second when ,rosmer and ,rebecca are on the very verge of their last great resolve2 and in each case we feel a distinct value 7apart from the inherent quality of the ,brendel scenes7 in the very fact that the tension has been momentarily suspended4 ,such a rallentando effect is like the apparent pause in the rush of a river before it thunders over a precipice4 ,the possibility of suspending tension is of wider import than may at first sight appear4 ,but for it1 our dramas would have to be all bone and muscle1 like the figures in an anatomical textbook4 ,as it is1 we are able1 without relaxing tension1 to shift it to various planes of consciousness1 and thus find leisure to reproduce the surface aspects of life1 with some of its accidents and irrelevances4 ,for example1 when the playwright has1 at the end of his first act1 succeeded in carrying onward the spectator's interest1 and giving him something definite to look forward to1 it does not at all follow that the expected scene1 situation1 revelation1 or what not1 should come at the beginning of the second act4 ,in some cases it must do so2 when1 as in ,the ,idyll above cited1 the spectator has been carefully induced to expect some imminent conjuncture which cannot be postponed4 ,but this can scarcely be called a typical case4 ,more commonly1 when an author has enlisted the curiosity of his audience of some definite point1 he will be in no great hurry to satisfy and dissipate it4 ,he may devote the early part of the second act to working-up the same line of interest to a higher pitch2 or he may hold it in suspense while he prepares some further development of the action4 ,the closeness with which a line of interest1 once started1 ought to be followed up1 must depend in some measure on the nature and tone of the play4 ,if it be a serious play1 in which character and action are very closely intertwined1 any pause or break in the conjoint development is to be avoided4 ,if1 on the other hand1 it is a play of light and graceful dialogue1 in which the action is a pretext for setting the characters in motion rather than the chief means towards their manifestation1 then the playwright can afford to relax the rate of his progress1 and even to wander a little from the straight line of advance4 ,in such a play1 even the old institution of the underplot is not inadmissible2 though the underplot ought scarcely to be a plot1 but only some very slight thread of interest1 involving no strain on the attention4#b ,it may almost be called an established practice1 on the ,english stage1 to let the dalliance of a pair of boy-and-girl lovers relieve the main interest of a more or less serious comedy2 and there is no particular harm in such a convention1 if it be not out of keeping with the general character of the play4 ,in some plays the substance--the character-action1 if one may so call it--is the main1 and indeed the only1 thing4 ,in others the substance1 though never unimportant1 is in some degree subordinate to the embroideries2 and it is for the playwright to judge how far this subordination may safely be carried4 ,one principle1 however1 may be emphasized as almost universally valid1 and that is that the end of an act should never leave the action just where it stood at the beginning4 ,an audience has an instinctive sense of1 and desire for1 progress4 ,it does not like to realize that things have been merely marking time4 ,even if it has been thoroughly entertained1 from moment to moment1 during the progress of an act1 it does not like to feel at the end that nothing has really happened4 ,the fall of the curtain gives time for reflection1 and for the ordering of impressions which1 while the action was afoot1 were more or less vague and confused4 ,it is therefore of great importance that each act should1 to put it briefly1 bear looking back upon--that it should appear to stand in due proportion to the general design of the play1 and should not be felt to have been empty1 or irrelevant1 or disappointing4 ,this is1 indeed1 a plain corollary from the principle of tension4 ,suspended it may be1 sometimes with positive advantage2 but it must not be suspended too long2 and suspension for a whole act is equivalent to relaxation4 ,to sum up3 when once a play has begun to move1 its movement ought to proceed continuously1 and with gathering momentum2 or1 if it stands still for a space1 the stoppage ought to be deliberate and purposeful4 ,it is fatal when the author thinks it is moving1 while in fact it is only revolving on its own axis4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,this method of heightening the tension would have been somewhat analogous to that employed by ,oscar ,wilde in ,lady ,windermere's instructions to her butler1 cited on p4 #aae4 ,footnote #b3 ,dryden 7,of ,dramatic ,poesy1 p4 #ef1 ed4 ,arnold1 #aijc7 says3 ,our plays1 besides the main design1 have underplots or by-concernments1 of less considerable persons and intrigues1 which are carried on with the motion of the main plot2 as they say the orb of the fixed stars1 and those of the planets1 though they have motions of their own1 are whirled about by the motion of the primum mobile1 in which they are contained4 ,this is an admirable description of the ideal underplot1 as conceived by our forefathers2 but we find that two lines of tension jar with and weaken each other4 ,,chapter ,,xii ,,preparation3 ,,the ,,finger-,,post ,we shall find1 on looking into it1 that most of the technical maxims that have any validity may be traced back1 directly or indirectly1 to the great principle of tension4 ,the art of construction is summed up1 first1 in giving the mind of an audience something to which to stretch forward1 and1 secondly1 in not letting it feel that it has stretched forward in vain4 ,you will find it infinitely pleasing1 says ,dryden1#a to be led in a labyrinth of design1 where you see some of your way before you1 yet discern not the end till you arrive at it4 ,or1 he might have added1 if you foresee the end1 but not the means by which it is to be reached4 ,in drama1 as in all art1 the how is often more important than the what4 ,no technical maxim is more frequently cited than the remark of the younger ,dumas3 ,the art of the theatre is the art of preparations4 ,this is true in a larger sense than he intended2 but at the same time there are limits to its truth1 which we must not fail to observe4 ,dumas1 as we know1 was an inveterate preacher1 using the stage as a pulpit for the promulgation of moral and social ideas which were1 in their day1 considered very advanced and daring4 ,the primary meaning of his maxim1 then1 was that a startling idea1 or a scene wherein such an idea was implied1 ought not to be sprung upon an audience wholly unprepared to accept it4 ,for instance1 in ,monsieur ,alphonse1 a husband1 on discovering that his wife has had an intrigue before their marriage1 and that a little girl whom she wishes to adopt is really her daughter1 instantly raises her from the ground where she lies grovelling at his feet1 and says3 ,crature de ,dieu1 toi qui as failli et te repens1 relve toi1 je te pardonne4 ,this evangelical attitude on the part of ,admiral de ,montaiglin was in itself very surprising1 and perhaps not wholly admirable1 to the ,parisian public of #ahgc2 but ,dumas had so prepared the coup de thtre that it passed with very slight difficulty on the first night1 and with none at all at subsequent performances and revivals4 ,how had he prepared it8 ,why1 by playing1 in a score of subtle ways1 upon the sympathies and antipathies of the audience4 ,for instance1 as ,sarcey points out1 he had made ,m4 de ,montaiglin a sailor1 accustomed1 during his distant voyages1 to long reveries in view of the boundless ocean1 whence he had acquired a mystical habit of mind4444 ,dumas certainly would never have placed this pardon in the mouth of a stockbroker4 ,so far so good2 but preparation1 in the sense of the word1 is a device of rhetoric or of propaganda rather than of dramatic craftsmanship4 ,it is a method of astutely undermining or outflanking prejudice4 ,desiring to enforce a general principle1 you invent a case which is specially favourable to your argument1 and insinuate it into the acceptance of the audience by every possible subtlety of adjustment4 ,you trust1 it would seem1 that people who have applauded an act of pardon in an extreme case will be so much the readier to exercise that high prerogative in the less carefully prepared cases which present themselves in real life4 ,this may or may not be a sound principle of persuasion2 as we are not here considering the drama as an art of persuasion1 we have not to decide between this and the opposite1 or ,shawesque1 principle of shocking and startling an audience by the utmost violence of paradox4 ,there is something to be said for both methods--for conversion by pill-and-jelly and for conversion by nitroglycerine4 ,reverting1 now1 to the domain of pure craftsmanship1 can it be said that the art of the theatre is the art of preparation8 ,yes1 it is very largely the art of delicate and unobtrusive preparation1 of helping an audience to divine whither it is going1 while leaving it to wonder how it is to get there4 ,on the other hand1 it is also the art of avoiding laborious1 artificial and obvious preparations which lead to little or nothing4 ,a due proportion must always be observed between the preparation and the result4 ,to illustrate the meaning of preparation1 as the word is here employed1 ,i may perhaps be allowed to reprint a passage from a review of ,mr4 ,israel ,zangwill's play ,children of the ,ghetto4#b 444 ,to those who have not read the novel1 it must seem as though the mere illustrations of ,jewish life entirely overlaid and overwhelmed the action4 ,it is not so in reality4 ,one who knows the story beforehand can often see that it is progressing even in scenes which seem purely episodic and unconnected either with each other or with the general scheme4 ,but ,mr4 ,zangwill has omitted to provide finger-posts1 if ,i may so express it1 to show those who do not know the story beforehand whither he is leading them4 ,he has neglected the great art of forecasting1 of keeping anticipation on the alert1 which is half the secret of dramatic construction4 ,to forecast1 without discounting1 your effects--that is all the ,law and the ,prophets4 ,in the first act of ,children of the ,ghetto1 for instance1 we see the marriage in jest of ,hannah to ,sam ,levine1 followed by the instant divorce with all its curious ceremonies4 ,this is amusing so far as it goes2 but when the divorce is completed1 the whole thing seems to be over and done with4 ,we have seen some people1 in whom as yet we take no particular interest1 enmeshed in a difficulty arising from a strange and primitive formalism in the interpretation of law2 and we have seen the meshes cut to the satisfaction of all parties1 and the incident to all appearance closed4 ,there is no finger-post to direct our anticipation on the way it should go2 and those who have not read the book cannot possibly guess that this mock marriage1 instantly and ceremoniously dissolved1 can have any ulterior effect upon the fortunes of any one concerned4 ,thus1 the whole scene1 however curious in itself1 seems motiveless and resultless4 ,how the requisite finger-post was to be provided ,i cannot tell4 ,that is not my business2 but a skilful dramatist would have made it his4 ,then1 in the second act1 amid illustrations of social life in the ,ghetto1 we have the meeting of ,hannah with ,david ,brandon1 a prettily-written scene of love-at-first-sight4 ,but1 so far as any one can see1 there is every prospect that the course of true love will run absolutely smooth4 ,again we lack a finger-post to direct our interest forward2 nor do we see anything that seems to bring this act into vital relation with its predecessor4 ,those who have read the book know that ,david ,brandon is a ',cohen1' a priest1 a descendant of ,aaron1 and that a priest may not marry a divorced woman4 ,knowing this1 we have a sense of irony1 of impending disaster1 which renders the love-scene of the second act dramatic4 ,but to those1 and they must always be a majority in any given audience1 who do not know this1 the scene has no more dramatic quality than lies in its actual substance1 which1 although pretty enough1 is entirely commonplace4 ,not till the middle of the third act 7out of four7 is the obstacle revealed1 and we see that the mighty maze was not without a plan4 ,here1 then1 the drama begins1 after two acts and a half of preparation1 during which we were vouchsafed no inkling of what was preparing4 ,it is capital drama when we come to it1 really human1 really tragic4 ,the arbitrary prohibitions of the ,mosaic law have no religious or moral force either for ,david or for ,hannah4 ,they feel it to be their right1 almost their duty1 to cast off their shackles4 ,in any community1 save that of strict ,judaism1 they are perfectly free to marry4 ,but in thus flouting the letter of the law1 ,hannah well knows that she will break her father's heart4 ,even as she struggles to shake them off1 the traditions of her race take firmer hold on her2 and in the highly dramatic last act 7a not unskilful adaptation to the stage of the crucial scene of the book7 she bows her neck beneath the yoke1 and renounces love that the ,law may be fulfilled4 ,to state the matter in other terms1 we are conscious of no tension in the earlier acts of this play1 because we have not been permitted to see the sword of ,damocles hanging over the heads of ,hannah and ,david ,brandon4 ,for lack of preparation1 of pointing-forward1 we feel none of that god-like superiority to the people of the mimic world which we have recognized as the characteristic privilege of the spectator4 ,we know no more than they do of the implications of their acts1 and the network of embarrassments in which they are involving themselves4 ,indeed1 we know less than they do3 for ,hannah1 as a well brought-up ,jewess1 is no doubt vaguely aware of the disabilities attaching to a divorced woman4 ,a gentile audience1 on the other hand1 cannot possibly foresee how-- ,some consequence yet hanging in the stars ,shall bitterly begin his fearful date ,with this night's revels4 and1 lacking that foreknowledge1 it misses the specifically dramatic effect of the scenes4 ,the author invites it to play at blind-man's-buff with the characters1 instead of unsealing its eyes and enabling it to watch the game from its ,olympian coign of vantage4 ,let the dramatist1 then1 never neglect to place the requisite finger-posts on the road he would have us follow4 ,it is not1 of course1 necessary that we should be conscious of all the implications of any given scene or incident1 but we must know enough of them not only to create the requisite tension1 but to direct it towards the right quarter of the compass4 ,retrospective elucidations are valueless and sometimes irritating4 ,it is in nowise to the author's interest that we should say1 ,ah1 if we had only known this1 or foreseen that1 in time1 the effect of such-and-such a scene would have been entirely different6 ,we have no use for finger-posts that point backwards4#c ,in the works of ,sir ,arthur ,pinero ,i recall two cases in which the lack of a finger-post impairs the desired effect3 slightly1 in the one instance1 in the other1 very considerably4 ,the third act of that delightful comedy ,the ,princess and the ,butterfly contains no sufficient indication of ,fay ,zuliani's jealousy of the friendship between ,sir ,george ,lamorant and the ,princess ,pannonia4 ,we are rather at a loss to account for the coldness of her attitude to the ,princess1 and her perverse naughtiness in going off to the ,opera ,ball4 ,this renders the end of the act practically ineffective4 ,we so little foresee what is to come of ,fay's midnight escapade1 that we take no particular interest in it1 and are rather disconcerted by the care with which it is led up to1 and the prominence assigned to it4 ,this1 however1 is a trifling fault4 ,far different is the case in the last act of ,the ,benefit of the ,doubt1 which goes near to ruining what is otherwise a very fine play4 ,the defect1 indeed1 is not purely technical3 on looking into it we find that the author is not in fact working towards an ending which can be called either inevitable or conspicuously desirable4 ,his failure to point forward is no doubt partly due to his having nothing very satisfactory to point forward to4 ,but it is only in retrospect that this becomes apparent4 ,what we feel while the act is in progress is simply the lack of any finger-post to afford us an inkling of the end towards which we are proceeding4 ,through scene after scene we appear to be making no progress1 but going round and round in a depressing circle4 ,the tension1 in a word1 is fatally relaxed4 ,it may perhaps be suggested as a maxim that when an author finds a difficulty in placing the requisite finger-posts1 as he nears the end of his play1 he will do well to suspect that the end he has in view is defective1 and to try if he cannot amend it4 ,in the ancient1 and in the modern romantic1 drama1 oracles1 portents1 prophecies1 horoscopes and such-like intromissions of the supernatural afforded a very convenient aid to the placing of the requisite finger-posts--foreshadowing without forestalling4 ,it has often been said that ,macbeth approaches the nearest of all ,shakespeare's tragedies to the antique model3 and in nothing is the resemblance clearer than in the employment of the ,witches to point their skinny fingers into the fated future4 ,in ,romeo and ,juliet1 inward foreboding takes the place of outward prophecy4 ,i have quoted above ,romeo's prevision of ,some consequence yet hanging in the stars2 and beside it may be placed ,juliet's-- ,i have no joy of this contract to-night2 ,it is too rash1 too unadvised1 too sudden1 ,too like the lightning which doth cease to be ,ere one can say it lightens4 ,in ,othello1 on the other hand1 the most modern of all his plays1 ,shakespeare had recourse neither to outward boding1 nor to inward foreboding1 but planted a plain finger-post in the soil of human nature1 when he made ,brabantio say-- ,look to her1 ,moor1 if thou hast eyes to see3 ,she has deceived her father1 and may thee4 ,mr4 ,stephen ,phillips1 in the first act of ,paolo and ,francesca1 outdoes all his predecessors1 ancient or modern1 in his daring use of sibylline prophecy4 ,he makes ,giovanni's blind foster-mother1 ,angela1 foretell the tragedy in almost every detail1 save that1 in her vision1 she cannot see the face of ,francesca's lover4 ,mr4 ,phillips1 ,i take it1 is here reinforcing ancient tradition by a reference to modern psychical research4 ,he trusts to our conceiving such clairvoyance to be not wholly impossible1 and giving it what may be called provisional credence4 ,whether the device be artistic or not we need not here consider4 ,i merely point to it as a conspicuous example of the use of the finger-post4#d ,it need scarcely be said that a misleading finger-post is carefully to be avoided1 except in the rare cases where it may be advisable to beget a momentary misapprehension on the part of the audience1 which shall be almost instantly corrected in some pleasant or otherwise effective fashion4#e ,it is naturally difficult to think of striking instances of the misleading finger-posts2 for plays which contain such a blunder are not apt to survive1 even in the memory4 ,a small example occurs in a clever play named ,a ,modern ,aspasia by ,mr4 ,hamilton ,fyfe4 ,edward ,meredith has two households3 a ,london house over which his lawful wife1 ,muriel1 presides2 and a country cottage where dwells his mistress1 ,margaret1 with her two children4 ,one day ,muriel's automobile breaks down near ,margaret's cottage1 and1 while the tyre is being repaired1 ,margaret gives her visitor tea1 neither of them knowing the other4 ,throughout the scene we are naturally wondering whether a revelation is to occur2 and when1 towards the close1 ,muriel goes to ,margaret's room1 to put her hat straight1 we have no longer any doubt on the subject4 ,it is practically inevitable that she should find in the room her husband's photograph1 or some object which she should instantly recognize as his1 and should return to the stage in full possession of the secret4 ,this is so probable that nothing but a miracle can prevent it3 we mentally give the author credit for bringing about his revelation in a very simple and natural way2 and we are proportionately disappointed when we find that the miracle has occurred1 and that ,muriel returns to the sitting-room no wiser than she left it4 ,very possibly the general economy of the play demanded that the revelation should not take place at this juncture4 ,that question does not here concern us4 ,the point is that1 having determined to reserve the revelation for his next act1 the author ought not1 by sending ,muriel into ,margaret's bedroom1 to have awakened in us a confident anticipation of its occurring there and then4 ,a romantic play by ,mr4 ,j4 ,b4 ,fagan1 entitled ,under ,which ,king8 offers another small instance of the same nature4 ,the date is #agdf2 certain despatches of vast importance have to be carried by a ,hanoverian officer from ,moidart to ,fort ,william4 ,the ,jacobites arrange to drug the officer2 and1 to make assurance doubly sure1 in case the drug should fail to act1 they post a ,highland marksman in a narrow glen to pick him off as he passes4 ,the drug does act2 but his lady-love1 to save his military honour1 assumes male attire and rides off with the despatches4 ,we hear her horse's hoofs go clattering down the road2 and then1 as the curtain falls1 we hear a shot ring out into the night4 ,this shot is a misleading finger-post4 ,nothing comes of it3 we find in the next act that the marksman has missed6 ,but marksmen1 under such circumstances1 have no business to miss4 ,it is a breach of the dramatic proprieties4 ,we feel that the author has been trifling with us in inflicting on us this purely mechanical and momentary scare4 ,the case would be different if the young lady knew that the marksman was lying in ambush1 and determined to run the gantlet4 ,in that case the incident would be a trait of character2 but1 unless my memory deceives me1 that is not the case4 ,on the stage1 every bullet should have its billet--not necessarily in the person aimed at1 but in the emotions or anticipations of the audience4 ,this bullet may1 indeed1 give us a momentary thrill of alarm2 but it is dearly bought at the expense of subsequent disillusionment4 ,we have now to consider the subject of over-preparation1 too obtrusive preparation1 mountainous preparation leading only to a mouse-like effect4 ,this is the characteristic error of the so-called well-made play1 the play of elaborate and ingenious intrigue4 ,the trouble with the well-made play is that it is almost always1 and of necessity1 ill-made4 ,very rarely does the playwright succeed in weaving a web which is at once intricate1 consistent1 and clear4 ,in nineteen cases out of twenty there are glaring flaws that have to be overlooked2 or else the pattern is so involved that the mind's eye cannot follow it1 and becomes bewildered and fatigued4 ,a classical example of both faults may be found in ,congreve's so-called comedy ,the ,double-,dealer4 ,this is1 in fact1 a powerful drama1 somewhat in the ,sardou manner2 but ,congreve had none of ,sardou's deftness in manipulating an intrigue4 ,maskwell is not only a double-dealer1 but a triple--or quadruple-dealer2 so that the brain soon grows dizzy in the vortex of his villainies4 ,the play1 it may be noted1 was a failure4 ,there is a quite legitimate pleasure to be found1 no doubt1 in a complex intrigue which is also perspicuous4 ,plays such as ,alexandre ,dumas's ,mademoiselle de ,belle-,isle1 or the pseudo-historical dramas of ,scribe-,adrienne ,lecouvreur1 ,bertrand et ,raton1 ,un ,verre d',eau1 ,les ,trois ,maupin1 etc4--are amusing toys1 like those social or military tableaux1 the figures of which you can set in motion by dropping a penny in the slot4 ,but the trick of this sort of preparation has long been found out1 and even unsophisticated audiences are scarcely to be thrilled by it4 ,we may accept it as a sound principle1 based on common sense and justified by experience1 that an audience should never be tempted to exclaim1 ,what a marvellously clever fellow is this playwright6 ,how infinitely cleverer than the dramatist who constructs the tragi-comedy of life4 ,this is what we inevitably exclaim as we watch ,victorien ,sardou1 in whom ,french ingenuity culminated and caricatured itself1 laying the foundations of one of his labyrinthine intrigues4 ,the absurdities of preparation in this sense could scarcely be better satirized than in the following page from ,francisque ,sarcey's criticism of ,nos ,intimes 7known in ,english as ,peril7--a page which is intended1 not as satire1 but as eulogy-- ,at the sixth performance1 ,i met1 during the first interact1 a man of infinite taste who 444 complained of the lengthiness of this first act3 ,what a lot of details1 he said1 which serve no purpose1 and had better have been omitted6 ,what is the use of that long story about the cactus with a flower that is unique in all the world8 ,why trouble us with that dahlia-root1 which ,m4 ,caussade's neighbour has thrown over the garden wall8 ,was it necessary to inflict on us all that talk about the fox that plays havoc in the garden8 ,what have we to do with that mischievous beast8 ,and that ,tolozan1 with his endless digressions6 ,what do we care about his ideas on love1 on metempsychosis1 on friendship1 etc48 ,all this stuff only retards the action4 ,on the contrary1 ,i replied1 all this is just what is going to interest you4 ,you are impatient of these details1 because you are looking out for the scenes of passion which have been promised you4 ,but reflect that1 without these preparations1 the scenes of passion would not touch you4 ,that cactus-flower will play its part1 you may be sure2 that dahlia-root is not there for nothing2 that fox to which you object1 and of which you will hear more talk during two more acts1 will bring about the solution of one of the most entertaining situations in all drama4 ,m4 ,sarcey does not tell us what his interlocutor replied2 but he might have said1 like the hero of ,le ,rveillon3 ,are you sure there is no mistake8 ,are you defending ,sardou1 or attacking him8 ,for another example of ultra-complex preparation let me turn to a play by ,mr4 ,sydney ,grundy1 entitled ,the ,degenerates4 ,mr4 ,grundy1 though an adept of the ,scribe school1 has done so much strong and original work that ,i apologize for exhuming a play in which he almost burlesqued his own method2 but for that very reason it is difficult to find a more convincing or more deterrent example of misdirected ingenuity4 ,the details of the plot need not be recited4 ,it is sufficient to say that the curtain has not been raised ten minutes before our attention has been drawn to the fact that a certain ,lady ,saumarez has her monogram on everything she wears1 even to her gloves3 whence we at once foresee that she is destined to get into a compromising situation1 to escape from it1 but to leave a glove behind her4 ,in due time the compromising situation arrives1 and we find that it not only requires a room with three doors1#f but that a locksmith has to be specially called in to provide two of these doors with peculiar locks1 so that1 when once shut1 they cannot be opened from inside except with a key6 ,what interest can we take in a situation turning on such contrivances8 ,sane technic laughs at locksmiths4 ,and after all this preparation1 the situation proves to be a familiar trick of theatrical thimble-rigging3 you lift the thimble1 and instead of ,pea ,a1 behold ,pea ,b6--instead of ,lady ,saumarez it is ,mrs4 ,trevelyan who is concealed in ,isidore de ,lorano's bedroom4 ,sir ,william ,saumarez must be an exceedingly simple-minded person to accept the substitution1 and exceedingly unfamiliar with the ,french drama of the 'seventies and 'eighties4 ,if he had his wits about him he would say3 ,i know this dodge3 it comes from ,sardou4 ,lady ,saumarez has just slipped out by that door1 up ,r41 and if ,i look about ,i shall certainly find her fan1 or her glove1 or her handkerchief somewhere on the premises4 ,the author may object that such criticism would end in paralysing the playwright1 and that1 if men always profited by the lessons of the stage1 the world would long ago have become so wise that there would be no more room in it for drama1 which lives on human folly4 ,you will tell me next1 he may say1 that ,i must not make groundless jealousy the theme of a play1 because every one who has seen ,othello would at once detect the machinations of an ,iago6 ,the retort is logically specious1 but it mistakes the point4 ,it would certainly be rash to put any limit to human gullibility1 or to deny that ,sir ,william ,saumarez1 in the given situation1 might conceivably be hoodwinked4 ,the question is not one of psychology but of theatrical expediency3 and the point is that when a situation is at once highly improbable in real life and exceedingly familiar on the stage1 we cannot help mentally caricaturing it as it proceeds1 and are thus prevented from lending it the provisional credence on which interest and emotion depend4 ,an instructive contrast to ,the ,degenerates may be found in a nearly contemporary play1 ,mrs4 ,dane's ,defence1 by ,mr4 ,henry ,arthur ,jones4 ,the first three acts of this play may be cited as an excellent example of dexterous preparation and development4 ,our interest in the sequence of events is aroused1 sustained1 and worked up to a high tension with consummate skill4 ,there is no feverish overcrowding of incident1 as is so often the case in the great ,french story-plays--,adrienne ,lecouvreur1 for example1 or ,fdora4 ,the action moves onwards1 unhasting1 unresting1 and the finger-posts are placed just where they are wanted4 ,the observance of a due proportion between preparation and result is a matter of great moment4 ,even when the result achieved is in itself very remarkable1 it may be dearly purchased by a too long and too elaborate process of preparation4 ,a famous play which is justly chargeable with this fault is ,the ,gay ,lord ,quex4 ,the third act is certainly one of the most breathlessly absorbing scenes in modern drama2 but by what long1 and serpentine1 and gritty paths do we not approach it6 ,the elaborate series of trifling incidents by means of which ,sophy ,fullgarney is first brought from ,new ,bond ,street to ,fauncey ,court1 and then substituted for the ,duchess's maid1 is at no point actually improbable2 and yet we feel that a vast effort has been made to attain an end which1 owing to the very length of the sequence of chances1 at last assumes an air of improbability4 ,there is little doubt that the substructure of the great scene might have been very much simpler4 ,i imagine that ,sir ,arthur ,pinero was betrayed into complexity and over-elaboration by his desire to use1 as a background for his action1 a study of that curious phase of modern life1 the manicurist's parlour4 ,to those who find this study interesting1 the disproportion between preliminaries and result may be less apparent4 ,it certainly did not interfere with the success of the play in its novelty2 but it may very probably curtail its lease of life4 ,what should we know of ,the ,school for ,scandal to-day1 if it consisted of nothing but the ,screen ,scene and two laborious acts of preparation8 ,a too obvious preparation is very apt to defeat its end by begetting a perversely quizzical frame of mind in the audience4 ,the desired effect is discounted1 like a conjuring trick in which the mechanism is too transparent4 ,let me recall a trivial but instructive instance of this error4 ,the occasion was the first performance of ,pillars of ,society at the ,gaiety ,theatre1 ,london--the first ,ibsen performance ever given in ,england4 ,at the end of the third act1 ,krap1 ,consul ,bernick's clerk1 knocks at the door of his master's office and says1 ,it is blowing up to a stiff gale4 ,is the ,indian ,girl to sail in spite of it8 ,whereupon ,bernick1 though he knows that the ,indian ,girl is hopelessly unseaworthy1 replies1 ,the ,indian ,girl is to sail in spite of it4 ,it had occurred to someone that the effect of this incident would be heightened if ,krap1 before knocking at the ,consul's door1 were to consult the barometer1 and show by his demeanour that it was falling rapidly4 ,a barometer had accordingly been hung1 up stage1 near the veranda entrance2 and1 as the scenic apparatus of a ,gaiety matine was in those days always of the scantiest1 it was practically the one decoration of a room otherwise bare almost to indecency4 ,it had stared the audience full in the face through three long acts2 and when1 at the end of the third1 ,krap went up to it and tapped it1 a sigh of relief ran through the house1 as much as to say1 ,at last6 so that was what it was for6--to the no small detriment of the situation4 ,here the fault lay in the obtrusiveness of the preparation4 ,had the barometer passed practically unnoticed among the other details of a well-furnished hall1 it would at any rate have been innocent1 and perhaps helpful4 ,as it was1 it seemed to challenge the curiosity of the audience1 saying1 ,i am evidently here with some intention2 guess1 now1 what the intention can be6 ,the producer had failed in the art which conceals art4 ,another little trait from a play of those far-past days illustrates the same point4 ,it was a drawing-room drama of the ,scribe school4 ,near the beginning of an act1 some one spilt a bottle of red ink1 and mopped it up with his 7or her7 handkerchief1 leaving the handkerchief on the escritoire4 ,the act proceeded from scene to scene1 and the handkerchief remained unnoticed2 but every one in the audience who knew the rules of the game1 kept his eye on the escritoire1 and was certain that that ink had not been spilt for nothing4 ,in due course a situation of great intensity was reached1 wherein the villain produced a pistol and fired at the heroine1 who fainted4 ,as a matter of fact he had missed her2 but her quick-witted friend seized the gory handkerchief1 and1 waving it in the air1 persuaded the villain that the shot had taken deadly effect1 and that he must flee for his life4 ,even in those days1 such an unblushing piece of trickery was found more comic than impressive4 ,it was a case of preparation giving itself away4 ,a somewhat later play1 ,the ,mummy and the ,humming ,bird1 by ,mr4 ,isaac ,henderson1 contains a good example of over-elaborate preparation4 ,the ,earl of ,lumley1 lost in his chemical studies with a more than ,newtonian absorption1 suffers his young wife to form a sentimental friendship with a scoundrel of an ,italian novelist1 ,signor ,d',orelli4 ,remaining at home one evening1 when ,lady ,lumley and a party of friends1 including ,d',orelli1 have gone off to dine at a restaurant1 the ,earl chances to look out of the window1 and observes an organ-grinder making doleful music in the snow4 ,his heart is touched1 and he invites the music-monger to join him in his study and share his informal dinner4 ,the conversation between them is carried on by means of signs1 for the organ-grinder knows no ,english1 and the ,earl is painfully and improbably ignorant of ,italian4 ,he does not even know that ,roma means ,rome1 and ,londra1 ,london4 ,this ignorance1 however1 is part of the author's ingenuity4 ,it leads to the establishment of a sort of object-speech1 by aid of which the ,earl learns that his guest has come to ,england to prosecute a vendetta against the man who ruined his happy ,sicilian home4 ,i need scarcely say that this villain is none other than ,d',orelli2 and when at last he and the ,countess elope to ,paris1 the object-speech enables ,giuseppe to convey to the ,earl1 by aid of a brandy-bottle1 a siphon1 a broken plate1 and half-a-crown1 not only the place of their destination1 but the very hotel to which they are going4 ,this is a fair example of that ingenuity for ingenuity's sake which was once thought the very essence of the playwright's craft1 but has long ago lost all attraction for intelligent audiences4 ,we may take it as a rule that any scene which requires an obviously purposeful scenic arrangement is thereby discounted4 ,it may be strong enough to live down the disadvantage2 but a disadvantage it is none the less4 ,in a play of ,mr4 ,carton's1 ,the ,home ,secretary1 a paper of great importance was known to be contained in an official despatch-box4 ,when the curtain rose on the last act1 it revealed this despatch-box on a table right opposite a ,french window1 while at the other side of the room a high-backed arm-chair discreetly averted its face4 ,every one could see at a glance that the romantic ,anarchist was going to sneak in at the window and attempt to abstract the despatch-box1 while the heroine was to lie perdue in the high-backed chair2 and when1 at the fated moment1 all this punctually occurred1 one could scarcely repress an ,ah6 of sarcastic satisfaction4 ,similarly1 in an able play named ,mr4 and ,mrs4 ,daventry1 ,mr4 ,frank ,harris had conceived a situation which required that the scene should be specially built for eavesdropping4#g ,as soon as the curtain rose1 and revealed a screen drawn halfway down the stage1 with a sofa ensconced behind it1 we knew what to expect4 ,of course ,mrs4 ,daventry was to lie on the sofa and overhear a duologue between her husband and his mistress3 the only puzzle was to understand why the guilty pair should neglect the precaution of looking behind the screen4 ,as a matter of fact1 ,mrs4 ,daventry1 before she lay down1 switched off the lights1 and ,daventry and ,lady ,langham1 finding the room dark1 assumed it to be empty4 ,with astounding foolhardiness1 considering that the house was full of guests1 and this a much frequented public room1 ,daventry proceeded to lock the door1 and continue his conversation with ,lady ,langham in the firelight4 ,thus1 when the lady's husband came knocking at the door1 ,mrs4 ,daventry was able to rescue the guilty pair from an apparently hopeless predicament1 by calmly switching on the lights and opening the door to ,sir ,john ,langham4 ,the situation was undoubtedly a strong one2 but the tendency of modern technic is to hold strength too dearly purchased at such reckless expense of preparation4 ,there are1 then1 very clear limits to the validity of the ,dumas maxim that ,the art of the theatre is the art of preparations4 ,certain it is that over-preparation is the most fatal of errors4 ,the clumsiest thing a dramatist can possibly do is to lay a long and elaborate train for the ignition of a squib4 ,we take pleasure in an event which has been prepared in the sense that we have been led to desire it1 and have wondered how it was to be brought about4 ,but we scoff at an occurrence which nothing but our knowledge of the tricks of the stage could possibly lead us to expect1 yet which1 knowing these tricks1 we have foreseen from afar1 and resented in advance4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,of ,dramatic ,poesy1 ed4 ,arnold1 #aijc1 p4 #fj4 ,footnote #b3 ,the ,world1 ,december #bj1 #ahii4 ,footnote #c3 ,at the end of the first act of ,lady ,inger of ,ostraat1 ,ibsen evidently intends to produce a startling effect through the sudden appearance of ,olaf ,skaktavl in ,lady ,inger's hall4 ,but as he has totally omitted to tell us who the strange man is1 the incident has no meaning for us4 ,in #ahee ,ibsen had all his technical lessons yet to learn4 ,footnote #d3 ,the fact that ,mr4 ,phillips should have deemed such a foreshadowing necessary shows how instinctively a dramatist feels that the logic of his art requires him to assume that his audience is ignorant of his fable4 ,in reality1 very few members of the first-night audience1 or of any other1 can have depended on old ,angela's vaticination for the requisite foresight of events4 ,but this does not prove ,angela to be artistically superfluous4 ,footnote #e3 ,see pp4 #aah1 #bdj4 ,footnote #f3 ,there is no special harm in this3 the question of exits and entrances and their mechanism is discussed in ,chapter ,,xxiii4 ,footnote #g3 ,this might be said of the scene of the second act of ,the ,benefit of the ,doubt2 but here the actual stage-topography is natural enough4 ,the author1 however1 is rather over-anxious to emphasize the acoustic relations of the two rooms4 ,,chapter ,,xiii ,,the ,,obligatory ,,scene ,i do not know whether it was ,francisque ,sarcey who invented the phrase scne faire2 but it certainly owes its currency to that valiant champion of the theatrical theatre1 if ,i may so express it4 ,note that in this term ,i intend no disrespect4 ,my conception of the theatrical theatre may not be exactly the same as ,m4 ,sarcey's2 but at all events ,i share his abhorrence of the untheatrical theatre4 ,what is the scne faire8 ,sarcey has used the phrase so often1 and in so many contexts1 that it is impossible to tie him down to any strict definition4 ,instead of trying to do so1 ,i will give a typical example of the way in which he usually employs the term4 ,in ,les ,fourchambault1 by ,emile ,augier1 the first act introduces us to the household of a merchant1 of ,havre1 who has married a wealthy1 but extravagant woman1 and has a son and daughter who are being gradually corrupted by their mother's worldliness4 ,we learn that ,fourchambault1 senior1 has1 in his youth1 betrayed a young woman who was a governess in his family4 ,he wanted to marry her1 but his relations maligned her character1 and he cast her off2 nor does he know what has become of her and her child4 ,in the second act we pass to the house of an energetic and successful young shipowner named ,bernard1 who lives alone with his mother4 ,bernard1 as we divine1 is secretly devoted to a young lady named ,marie ,letellier1 a guest in the ,fourchambault house1 to whom young ,leopold ,fourchambault is paying undesirable attentions4 ,one day ,bernard casually mentions to his mother that the house of ,fourchambault is on the verge of bankruptcy2 nothing less than a quarter of a million francs will enable it to tide over the crisis4 ,mme4 ,bernard1 to her son's astonishment1 begs him to lend the tottering firm the sum required4 ,he objects that1 unless the business is better managed1 the loan will only postpone the inevitable disaster4 ,well1 then1 my son1 she replied1 you must go into partnership with ,m4 ,fourchambault4 ,i6 with that imbecile6 he exclaims4 ,my son1 she says gravely1 and emphatically1 you must--it is your duty--,i demand it of you6 ,ah6 cries ,bernard4 ,i understand--he is my father6 ,after ecstatically lauding this situation and the scenes which have led up to it1 ,m4 ,sarcey continues-- ,when the curtain falls upon the words ,he is my father1 ,i at once see two scnes faire1 and ,i know that they will be faites3 the scene between the son and the father whom he is to save1 the scene between ,bernard and his half-brother ,leopold1 who are in love with the same woman1 the one dishonourably and the other secretly and nobly4 ,what will they say to each other8 ,i have no idea4 ,but it is precisely this expectation mingled with uncertainly that is one of the charms of the theatre4 ,i say to myself1 ,ah1 they will have an encounter6 ,what will come of it8 ,and that this is the state of mind of the whole audience is proved by the fact that when the two characters of the scnes faire stand face to face1 a thrill of anticipation runs round the whole theatre4 ,this1 then1 is the obligatory scene as ,sarcey generally understands it--a scene which1 for one reason or another1 an audience expects and ardently desires4 ,i have italicized the phrase expectation mingled with uncertainty because it expresses in other terms the idea which ,i have sought to convey in the formula foreshadowing without forestalling4 ,but before we can judge of the merits of ,m4 ,sarcey's theory1 we must look into it a little more closely4 ,i shall try1 then1 to state it in my own words1 in what ,i believe to be its most rational and defensible form4 ,an obligatory scene is one which the audience 7more or less clearly and consciously7 foresees and desires1 and the absence of which it may with reason resent4 ,on a rough analysis1 it will appear1 ,i think1 that there are five ways in which a scene may become1 in this sense1 obligatory3 7#a7 ,it may be necessitated by the inherent logic of the theme4 7#b7 ,it may be demanded by the manifest exigencies of specifically dramatic effect4 7#c7 ,the author himself may have rendered it obligatory by seeming unmistakably to lead up to it4 7#d7 ,it may be required in order to justify some modification of character or alteration of will1 too important to be taken for granted4 7#e7 ,it may be imposed by history or legend4 ,these five classes of obligatory scenes may be docketed1 respectively1 as the ,logical1 the ,dramatic1 the ,structural1 the ,psychological1 and the ,historic4 ,m4 ,sarcey generally employed the term in one of the first three senses1 without clearly distinguishing between them4 ,it is1 indeed1 not always easy to determine whether the compulsion 7assuming it to exist at all7 lies in the very essence of the theme or situation1 or only in the author's manipulation of it4 ,was ,sarcey right in assuming such a compulsion to be a constant and dominant factor in the playwright's craft8 ,i think we shall see reason to believe him right in holding that it frequently arises1 but wrong if he went the length of maintaining that there can be no good play without a definite scne faire--as eighteenth-century landscape painters are said to have held that no one could be a master of his art till he knew where to place the brown tree4 ,i remember no passage in which ,sarcey explicitly lays down so hard and fast a rule1 but several in which he seems to take it for granted4#a ,it may be asked whether--and if so1 why--the theory of the obligatory scene holds good for the dramatist and not for the novelist8 ,perhaps it has more application to the novel than is commonly supposed2 but in so far as it applies peculiarly to the drama1 the reason is pretty clear4 ,it lies in the strict concentration imposed on the dramatist1 and the high mental tension which is1 or ought to be1 characteristic of the theatrical audience4 ,the leisurely and comparatively passive novel-reader may never miss a scene which an audience1 with its instincts of logic and of economy keenly alert1 may feel to be inevitable4 ,the dramatist is bound to extract from his material the last particle of that particular order of effect which the stage1 and the stage alone1 can give us4 ,if he fails to do so1 we feel that there has been no adequate justification for setting in motion all the complex mechanism of the theatre4 ,his play is like a badly-designed engine in which a large part of the potential energy is dissipated to no purpose4 ,the novelist1 with a far wider range of effects at his command1 and employing no special mechanism to bring them home to us1 is much more free to select and to reject4 ,he is exempt from the law of rigid economy to which the dramatist must submit4 ,far from being bound to do things in the most dramatic way1 he often does wisely in rejecting that course1 as unsuited to his medium4 ,fundamentally1 no doubt1 the same principle applies to both arts1 but with a wholly different stringency in the case of the drama4 ,advisable in the novelist's vocabulary is translated by imperative in the dramatist's4 ,the one is playing a long-drawn game1 in which the loss of a trick or two need not prove fatal2 the other has staked his all on a single rubber4 99 99 99 99 99 ,obligatory scenes of the first type--those necessitated by the inherent logic of the theme--can naturally arise only in plays to which a definite theme can be assigned4 ,if we say that woman's claim to possess a soul of her own1 even in marriage1 is the theme of ,a ,doll's ,house1 then evidently the last great balancing of accounts between ,nora and ,helmer is an obligatory scene4 ,it would have been quite possible for ,ibsen to have completed the play without any such scene3 he might1 for instance1 have let ,nora fulfil her intention of drowning herself2 but in that case his play would have been merely a tragic anecdote with the point omitted4 ,we should have felt vague intimations of a general idea hovering in the air1 but it would have remained undefined and undeveloped4 ,as we review1 however1 the series of ,ibsen's plays1 and notice how difficult it is to point to any individual scene and say1 ,this was clearly the scne faire1 we feel that1 though the phrase may express a useful idea in a conveniently brief form1 there is no possibility of making the presence or absence of a scne faire a general test of dramatic merit4 ,in ,the ,wild ,duck1 who would not say that1 theoretically1 the scene in which ,gregers opens ,hialmar's eyes to the true history of his marriage was obligatory in the highest degree8 ,yet ,ibsen1 as a matter of fact1 does not present it to us3 he sends the two men off for a long walk together3 and who does not feel that this is a stroke of consummate art8 ,in ,rosmersholm1 as we know1 he has been accused of neglecting1 not merely the scene1 but the play1 faire2 but who will now maintain that accusation8 ,in ,john ,gabriel ,borhman1 if we define the theme as the clash of two devouring egoisms1 ,ibsen has1 in the third act1 given us the obligatory scene2 but he has done it1 unfortunately1 with an enfeebled hand2 whereas the first and second acts1 though largely expository1 and even 7in the ,foldal scene7 episodic1 rank with his greatest achievements4 ,for abundant examples of scenes rendered obligatory by the logic of the theme1 we have only to turn to the works of those remorseless dialecticians1 ,,mm4 ,hervieu and ,brieux4 ,in such a play as ,la ,course du ,flambeau1 there is scarcely a scene that may not be called an obligatory deduction from the thesis duly enunciated1 with no small parade of erudition1 in the first ten minutes of the play4 ,it is that1 in handing on the vital lampada1 as ,plato and le bon pote ,lucrce express it1 the love of the parent for the child becomes a devouring mania1 to which everything else is sacrificed1 while the love of the child for the parent is a tame and essentially selfish emotion1 absolutely powerless when it comes into competition with the passions which are concerned with the transmission of the vital flame4 ,this theorem having been stated1 what is the first obligatory scene8 ,evidently one in which a mother shall refuse a second marriage1 with a man whom she loves1 because it would injure the prospects and wound the feelings of her adored daughter4 ,then1 when the adored daughter herself marries1 the mother must make every possible sacrifice for her1 and the daughter must accept them all with indifference1 as mere matters of course4 ,but what is the final1 triumphant proof of the theorem8 ,why1 of course1 the mother must kill her mother to save the daughter's life6 ,and this ultra-obligatory scene ,m4 ,hervieu duly serves up to us4 ,marie-,jeanne 7the daughter7 is ordered to the ,engadine2 ,sabine 7the mother7 is warned that ,madame ,fontenais 7the grandmother7 must not go to that altitude on pain of death2 but1 by a series of violently artificial devices1 things are so arranged that ,marie-,jeanne cannot go unless ,madame ,fontenais goes too2 and ,sabine1 rather than endanger her daughter's recovery1 does not hesitate to let her mother set forth1 unwittingly1 to her doom4 ,in the last scene of all1 ,marie-,jeanne light-heartedly prepares to leave her mother and go off with her husband to the ends of the earth2 ,sabine learns that the man she loved and rejected for ,marie-,jeanne's sake is for ever lost to her2 and1 to complete the demonstration1 ,madame ,fontenais falls dead at her feet4 ,these scenes are unmistakably scnes faire1 dictated by the logic of the theme2 but they belong to a conception of art in which the free rhythms of life are ruthlessly sacrificed to the needs of a demonstration4 ,obligatory scenes of this order are mere diagrams drawn with ruler and compass--the obligatory illustrations of an extravagantly over-systematic lecture4 ,m4 ,brieux in some of his plays 7not in all7 is no less logic-ridden than ,m4 ,hervieu4 ,take1 for instance1 ,les ,trois ,filles de ,m4 ,dupont3 every character is a term in a syllogism1 every scene is dictated by an imperious craving for symmetry4 ,the main theorem may be stated in some such terms as these3 ,the ,french marriage system is immoral and abominable2 yet the married woman is1 on the whole1 less pitiable than her unmarried sisters4 ,in order to prove this thesis in due form1 we begin at the beginning1 and show how the marriage of ,antonin ,mairaut and ,julie ,dupont is brought about by the dishonest cupidity of the parents on both sides4 ,the ,duponts flatter themselves that they have cheated the ,mairauts1 the ,mairauts that they have swindled the ,duponts2 while ,antonin deliberately simulates artistic tastes to deceive ,julie1 and ,julie as deliberately makes a show of business capacity in order to take in ,antonin4 ,every scene between father and daughter is balanced by a corresponding scene between mother and son4 ,every touch of hypocrisy on the one side is scrupulously set off against a trait of dishonesty on the other4 ,julie's passion for children is emphasized1 ,antonin's aversion from them is underlined4 ,but lest he should be accused of seeing everything in black1 ,m4 ,brieux will not make the parents altogether detestable4 ,still holding the balance true1 he lets ,m4 ,mairaut on the one side1 and ,madame ,dupont on the other1 develop amiable impulses1 and protest1 at a given moment1 against the infamies committed and countenanced by their respective spouses4 ,and in the second and third acts1 the edifice of deception symmetrically built up in the first act is no less symmetrically demolished4 ,the parents expose and denounce each other's villainies2 ,julie and ,antonin1 in a great scene of conjugal recrimination1 lay bare the hypocrisies of allurement that have brought them together4 ,julie then determines to escape from the loathsome prison-house of her marriage2 and this brings us to the second part of the theorem4 ,the title shows that ,julie has two sisters2 but hitherto they have remained in the background4 ,why do they exist at all8 ,why has ,providence blessed ,m4 ,dupont with three fair daughters and no more8 ,because ,providence foresaw exactly the number ,m4 ,brieux would require for his demonstration4 ,are there not three courses open to a penniless woman in our social system--marriage1 wage-earning industry1 and wage-earning profligacy8 ,well1 ,m4 ,dupont must have one daughter to represent each of these contingencies4 ,julie has illustrated the miseries of marriage2 ,caroline and ,angle shall illustrate respectively the still greater miseries of unmarried virtue and unmarried vice4 ,when ,julie declares her intention of breaking away from the house of bondage1 her sisters rise up symmetrically1 one on either hand1 and implore her rather to bear the ills she has than to fly to others that she knows not of4 ,symmetry of symmetries1 all is symmetry in the poetics of ,m4 ,brieux4 ,but life does not fall into such obvious patterns4 ,the obligatory scene which is imposed upon us1 not by the logic of life1 but by the logic of demonstration1 is not a scne faire1 but a scne fuir4 ,mr4 ,bernard ,shaw1 in some sense the ,brieux of the ,english theatre1 is not a man to be dominated by logic1 or by anything else under the sun4 ,he has1 however1 given us one or two excellent examples of the obligatory scene in the true and really artistic sense of the term4 ,the scene of ,candida's choice between ,eugene and ,morell crowns the edifice of ,candida as nothing else could4 ,given the characters and their respective attitudes towards life1 this sententious thrashing-out of the situation was inevitable4 ,so1 too1 in ,mrs4 ,warren's ,profession1 the great scene of the second act between ,vivie and her mother is a superb example of a scene imposed by the logic of the theme4 ,on the other hand1 in ,mr4 ,henry ,arthur ,jones's finely conceived1 though unequal1 play1 ,michael and his ,lost ,angel1 we miss what was surely an obligatory scene4 ,the play is in fact a contest between the paganism of ,audrie ,lesden and the ascetic1 sacerdotal idealism of ,michael ,feversham4 ,in the second act1 paganism snatches a momentary victory2 and we confidently expect1 in the third act1 a set and strenuous effort on ,audrie's part to break down in theory the ascetic ideal which has collapsed in practice4 ,it is probable enough that she might not succeed in dragging her lover forth from what she regards as the prison-house of a superstition2 but the logic of the theme absolutely demands that she should make the attempt4 ,mr4 ,jones has preferred to go astray after some comparatively irrelevant and commonplace matter1 and has thus left his play incomplete4 ,so1 too1 in ,the ,triumph of the ,philistines1 ,mr4 ,jones makes the mistake of expecting us to take a tender interest in a pair of lovers who have had never a love-scene to set our interest agoing4 ,they are introduced to each other in the first act1 and we shrewdly suspect 7for in the theatre we are all inveterate match-makers7 that they are going to fall in love2 but we have not the smallest positive evidence of the fact before we find1 in the second act1 that misunderstandings have arisen1 and the lady declines to look at the gentleman4 ,the actress who played the part at the ,st4 ,james's ,theatre was blamed for failing to enlist our sympathies in this romance2 but what actress can make much of a love part which1 up to the very last moment1 is all suspicion and jealousy8 ,fancy ,romeo and ,juliet with the love-scenes omitted1 by special request6 99 99 99 99 99 ,in a second class1 according to our analysis1 we place the obligatory scene which is imposed by the manifest exigencies of specifically dramatic effect4 ,here it must of course be noted that the conception of specifically dramatic effect varies in some degree1 from age to age1 from generation to generation1 and even1 one may almost say1 from theatre to theatre4 ,scenes of violence and slaughter were banished from the ,greek theatre1 mainly1 no doubt1 because rapid movement was rendered difficult by the hieratic trappings of the actors1 and was altogether foreign to the spirit of tragedy2 but it can scarcely be doubted that the tragic poets were the less inclined to rebel against this convention1 because they extracted specifically dramatic effects of a very high order out of their messenger-scenes4 ,even in the modern theatre we are thrilled by the description of ,hippolytus dragged at his own chariot wheel1 or ,creusa and ,creon devoured by ,medea's veil of fire4#b ,on the ,elizabethan stage1 the murder of ,agamemnon would no doubt have been subjected to our faithful eyes like the blinding of ,gloucester or the suffocation of ,edward ,,ii2 but who shall say that there is less specifically dramatic effect in ,aeschylus's method of mirroring the scene in the clairvoyant ecstasy of ,cassandra8 ,i am much inclined to think that the dramatic effect of highly emotional narrative is underrated in the modern theatre4 ,again1 at one class of theatre1 the author of a sporting play--is bound to exhibit a horse-race on the stage1 or he is held to have shirked his obligatory scene4 ,at another class of theatre1 we shall have a scene1 perhaps1 in a box in the ,grand ,stand1 where some ,lady ,gay ,spanker shall breathlessly depict1 from start to finish1 the race which is visible to her1 but invisible to the audience4 ,at a third class of the theatre1 the specifically dramatic effect to be extracted from a horse-race is found in a scene in a ,black-,country slum1 where a group of working-men and women are feverishly awaiting the evening paper which shall bring them the result of the ,st4 ,leger1 involving for some of them opulence--to the extent1 perhaps1 of a #e note--and for others ruin4#c ,the difficulty of deciding that any one form of scene is predestined by the laws of dramatic effect is illustrated in ,tolstoy's grisly drama1 ,the ,power of ,darkness4 ,the scene in which ,nikita kills ,akoulina's child was felt to be too horrible for representation2 whereupon the author wrote an alternative scene between ,mitritch and ,anna1 which passes simultaneously with the murder scene1 in an adjoining room4 ,the two scenes fulfil exactly the same function in the economy of the play2 it can be acted with either of them1 it might be acted with both2 and it is impossible to say which produces the intenser or more specifically dramatic effect4 ,the fact remains1 however1 that there is almost always a dramatic and undramatic1 a more dramatic and a less dramatic1 way of doing a thing2 and an author who allows us to foresee and expect a dramatic way of attaining a given end1 and then chooses an undramatic or less dramatic way1 is guilty of having missed the obligatory scene4 ,for a general discussion of what we mean by the terms dramatic and undramatic the reader may refer back to ,chapter ,,iii4 ,here ,i need only give one or two particular illustrations4 ,it will be remembered that one of the scnes faire which ,m4 ,sarcey foresaw in ,les ,fourchambault was the encounter between the two brothers2 the illegitimate ,bernard and the legitimate ,leopold4 ,it would have been quite possible1 and quite natural1 to let the action of the play work itself out without any such encounter2 or to let the encounter take place behind the scenes2 but this would have been a patent ignoring of dramatic possibilities1 and ,m4 ,sarcey would have had ample reason to pour the vials of his wrath on ,augier's head4 ,he was right1 however1 in his confidence that ,augier would not fail to make the scene4 ,and how did he make it8 ,the one thing inevitable about it was that the truth should be revealed to ,leopold2 but there were a dozen different ways in which that might have been effected4 ,perhaps1 in real life1 ,bernard would have said something to this effect3 ,young man1 you are making questionable advances to a lady in whom ,i am interested4 ,i beg that you will cease to persecute her2 and if you ask by what right ,i do so1 ,i reply that ,i am in fact your elder brother1 that ,i have saved our father from ruin1 that ,i am henceforth the predominant partner in his business1 and that1 if you do not behave yourself1 ,i shall see that your allowance is withdrawn1 and that you have no longer the means to lead an idle and dissolute life4 ,this would have been an ungracious but not unnatural way of going about the business4 ,had ,augier chosen it1 we should have had no right to complain on the score of probability2 but it would have been evident to the least imaginative that he had left the specifically dramatic opportunities of the scene entirely undeveloped4 ,let us now see what he actually did4 ,marie ,letellier1 compromised by ,leopold's conduct1 has left the ,fourchambault house and taken refuge with ,mme4 ,bernard4 ,bernard loves her devotedly1 but does not dream that she can see anything in his uncouth personality1 and imagines that she loves ,leopold4 ,accordingly1 he determines that ,leopold shall marry her1 and tells him so4 ,leopold scoffs at the idea2 ,bernard insists2 and little by little the conflict rises to a tone of personal altercation4 ,at last ,leopold says something slighting of ,mile4 ,letellier1 and ,bernard--who1 be it noted1 has begun with no intention of revealing the kinship between them--loses his self-control and cries1 ,ah1 there speaks the blood of the man who slandered a woman in order to prevent his son from keeping his word to her4 ,i recognize in you your grandfather1 who was a miserable calumniator4 ,repeat that word6 says ,leopold4 ,bernard does so1 and the other strikes him across the face with his glove4 ,for a perceptible interval ,bernard struggles with his rage in silence1 and then3 ,it is well for you1 he cries1 that you are my brother6 ,we need not follow the scene in the sentimental turning which it then takes1 whereby it comes about1 of course1 that ,bernard1 not ,leopold1 marries ,mile4 ,letellier4 ,the point is that ,augier has justified ,sarcey's confidence by making the scene thoroughly and specifically dramatic2 in other words1 by charging it with emotion1 and working up the tension to a very high pitch4 ,and ,sarcey was no doubt right in holding that this was what the whole audience instinctively expected1 and that they would have been more or less consciously disappointed had the author baulked their expectation4 ,an instructive example of the failure to make a dramatically obligatory scene may be found in ,agatha by ,mrs4 ,humphry ,ward and ,mr4 ,louis ,parker4 ,agatha is believed to be the child of ,sir ,richard and ,lady ,fancourt2 but at a given point she learns that a gentleman whom she has known all her life as ,cousin ,ralph is in reality her father4 ,she has a middle-aged suitor1 ,colonel ,ford1 whom she is very willing to marry2 but at the end of the second act she refuses him1 because she shrinks from the idea1 on the one hand1 of concealing the truth from him1 on the other hand1 of revealing her mother's trespass4 ,this is not1 in itself1 a very strong situation1 for we feel the barrier between the lovers to be unreal4 ,colonel ,ford is a man of sense4 ,the secret of ,agatha's parentage can make no real difference to him4 ,nothing material--no point of law or of honour--depends on it4 ,he will learn the truth1 and all will come right between them4 ,the only point on which our interest can centre is the question how he is to learn the truth2 and here the authors go very far astray4 ,there are two1 and only two1 really dramatic ways in which ,colonel ,ford can be enlightened4 ,lady ,fancourt must realize that ,agatha is wrecking her life to keep her mother's secret1 and must either herself reveal it to ,colonel ,ford1 or must encourage and enjoin ,agatha to do so4 ,now1 the authors choose neither of these ways3 the secret slips out1 through a chance misunderstanding in a conversation between ,sir ,richard ,fancourt and the ,colonel4 ,this is a typical instance of an error of construction2 and why8--because it leaves to chance what should be an act of will4 ,drama means a thing done1 not merely a thing that happens2 and the playwright who lets accident effect what might naturally and probably be a result of volition1 or1 in other words1 of character1 sins against the fundamental law of his craft4 ,in the case before us1 ,lady ,fancourt and ,agatha--the two characters on whom our interest is centred--are deprived of all share in one of the crucial moments of the action4 ,whether the actual disclosure was made by the mother or by the daughter1 there ought to have been a great scene between the two1 in which the mother should have insisted that1 by one or other1 the truth must be told4 ,it would have been a painful1 a delicate1 a difficult scene1 but it was the obligatory scene of the play2 and had we been allowed clearly to foresee it at the end of the second act1 our interest would have been decisively carried forward4 ,the scene1 too1 might have given the play a moral relevance which in fact it lacks4 ,the readjustment of ,agatha's scheme of things1 so as to make room for her mother's history1 might have been made explicit and partly intellectual1 instead of implicit1 inarticulate and wholly emotional4 ,this case1 then1 clearly falls under our second heading4 ,we cannot say that it is the logic of the theme which demands the scene1 for no thesis or abstract idea is enunciated4 ,nor can we say that the course of events is unnatural or improbable2 our complaint is that1 without being at all less natural1 they might have been highly dramatic1 and that in fact they are not so4 ,in a very different type of play1 we find another example of the ignoring of a dramatically obligatory scene4 ,the author of that charming fantasy1 ,the ,passing of the ,third ,floor ,back1 was long ago guilty of a play named ,the ,rise of ,dick ,halward1 chiefly memorable for having elicited from ,mr4 ,bernard ,shaw one of the most brilliant pages in ,english dramatic criticism4 ,the hero of this play1 after an adventurous youth in ,mexico1 has gone to the bar1 but gets no briefs1 and is therefore unable to marry a lady who announces that no suitor need apply who has less than #ejjj a year4 ,one fine day ,dick receives from ,mexico the will of an old comrade1 which purports to leave to him1 absolutely1 half a million dollars1 gold2 but the will is accompanied by a letter1 in which the old comrade states that the property is really left to him only in trust for the testator's long-lost son1 whom ,dick is enjoined to search out and endow with a capital which1 at #e per cent1 represents accurately the desiderated #ejjj a year4 ,as a matter of fact 7but this is not to our present purpose71 the long-lost son is actually1 at that moment1 sharing ,dick's chambers in the ,temple4 ,dick1 however1 does not know this1 and cannot resist the temptation to destroy the old miner's letter1 and grab the property4 ,we know1 of course1 that retribution is bound to descend upon him2 but does not dramatic effect imperatively require that1 for a brief space at any rate1 he should be seen--with whatever qualms of conscience his nature might dictate--enjoying his ill-gotten wealth8 ,mr4 ,jerome1 however1 baulks us of this just expectation4 ,in the very first scene of the second act we find that the game is up4 ,the deceased miner wrote his letter to ,dick seated in the doorway of a hut2 a chance photographer took a snap-shot at him2 and on returning to ,england1 the chance photographer has nothing more pressing to do than to chance upon the one man who knows the long-lost son1 and to show him the photograph of the dying miner1 whom he at once recognizes4 ,by aid of a microscope1 the letter he is writing can be deciphered1 and thus ,dick's fraud is brought home to him4 ,now one would suppose that an author who had invented this monstrous and staggering concatenation of chances1 must hope to justify it by some highly dramatic situation1 in the obvious and commonplace sense of the word4 ,it is not difficult1 indeed1 to foresee such a situation1 in which ,dick ,halward should be confronted1 as if by magic1 with the very words of the letter he has so carefully destroyed4 ,i am far from saying that this scene would1 in fact1 have justified its amazing antecedents2 but it would have shown a realization on the author's part that he must at any rate attempt some effect proportionate to the strain he had placed upon our credulity4 ,mr4 ,jerome showed no such realization4 ,he made the man who handed ,dick the copy of the letter explain beforehand how it had been obtained2 so that ,dick1 though doubtless surprised and disgusted1 was not in the least thunderstruck1 and manifested no emotion4 ,here1 then1 ,mr4 ,jerome evidently missed a scene rendered obligatory by the law of the maximum of specifically dramatic effect4 99 99 99 99 99 ,the third1 or structural1 class of obligatory scenes may be more briefly dealt with1 seeing that we have already1 in the last chapter1 discussed the principle involved4 ,in this class we have placed1 by definition1 scenes which the author himself has rendered obligatory by seeming unmistakably to lead up to them--or1 in other words1 scenes indicated1 or seeming to be indicated1 by deliberately-planted finger-posts4 ,it may appear as though the case of ,dick ,halward1 which we have just been examining1 in reality came under this heading4 ,but it cannot actually be said that ,mr4 ,jerome either did1 or seemed to1 point by finger-posts towards the obligatory scene4 ,he rather appears to have been blankly unconscious of its possibility4 ,we have noted in the foregoing chapter the unwisdom of planting misleading finger-posts2 here we have only to deal with the particular case in which they seem to point to a definite and crucial scene4 ,an example given by ,m4 ,sarcey himself will1 ,i think1 make the matter quite clear4 ,m4 ,jules ,lematre's play1 ,rvolte1 tells the story of a would-be intellectual1 ill-conditioned young woman1 married to a plain and ungainly professor of mathematics1 whom she despises4 ,we know that she is in danger of yielding to the fascinations of a seductive man-about-town2 and having shown us this danger1 the author proceeds to emphasize the manly and sterling character of the husband4 ,he has the gentleness that goes with strength2 but where his affections or his honour is concerned1 he is not a man to be trifled with4 ,this having been several times impressed upon us1 we naturally expect that the wife is to be rescued by some striking manifestation of the husband's masterful virility4 ,but no such matter6 ,rescued she is1 indeed2 but it is by the intervention of her half-brother1 who fights a duel on her behalf1 and is brought back wounded to restore peace to the mathematician's household3 that man of science having been quite passive throughout1 save for some ineffectual remonstrances4 ,it happens that in this case we know just where the author went astray4 ,hlne 7the wife7 is the unacknowledged daughter of a great lady1 ,mme4 de ,voves2 and the subject of the play1 as the author first conceived it1 was the relation between the mother1 the illegitimate daughter1 and the legitimate son2 the daughter's husband taking only a subordinate place4 ,but ,lematre chose as a model for the husband a man whom he had known and admired2 and he allowed himself to depict in vivid colours his strong and sympathetic character1 without noticing that he was thereby upsetting the economy of his play1 and giving his audience reason to anticipate a line of development quite different from that which he had in mind4 ,inadvertently1 in fact1 he planted1 not one1 but two or three1 misleading finger-posts4 99 99 99 99 99 ,we come now to the fourth1 or psychological1 class of obligatory scenes--those which are required in order to justify some modification of character or alteration of will1 too important to be taken for granted4 ,an obvious example of an obligatory scene of this class may be found in the third act of ,othello4 ,the poet is bound to show us the process by which ,iago instils his poison into ,othello's mind4 ,he has backed himself1 so to speak1 to make this process credible to us2 and1 by a masterpiece of dexterity and daring1 he wins his wager4 ,had he omitted this scene--had he shown us ,othello at one moment full of serene confidence1 and at his next appearance already convinced of ,desdemona's guilt--he would have omitted the pivot and turning--point of the whole structure4 ,it may seem fantastic to conceive that any dramatist could blunder so grossly2 but there are not a few plays in which we observe a scarcely less glaring hiatus4 ,a case in point may be found in ,lord ,tennyson's ,becket4 ,i am not one of those who hold ,tennyson merely contemptible as a dramatist4 ,i believe that1 had he taken to playwriting nearly half-a-century earlier1 and studied the root principles of craftsmanship1 instead of blindly accepting the ,elizabethan conventions1 he might have done work as fine in the mass as are the best moments of ,queen ,mary and ,harold4 ,as a whole1 ,becket is one of his weakest productions2 but the ,prologue and the first act would have formed an excellent first and third act for a play of wholly different sequel1 had he interposed1 in a second act1 the obligatory scene required to elucidate ,becket's character4 ,the historic and psychological problem of ,thomas ,becket is his startling transformation from an easy-going1 luxurious1 worldly statesman into a gaunt ecclesiastic1 fanatically fighting for the rights of his see1 of his order1 and of ,rome4 ,in any drama which professes to deal 7as this does7 with his whole career1 the intellectual interest cannot but centre in an analysis of the forces that brought about this seeming new-birth of his soul4 ,it would have been open to the poet1 no doubt1 to take up his history at a later point1 when he was already the full-fledged clerical and ultramontane4 ,but this ,tennyson does not do4 ,he is at pains to present to us the magnificent ,chancellor1 the bosom friend of the ,king1 and mild reprover of his vices2 and then1 without the smallest transition1 hey presto6 he is the intransigent priest1 bitterly combating the ,constitutions of ,clarendon4 ,it is true that in the ,prologue the poet places one or two finger-posts--small1 conventional foreshadowings of coming trouble4 ,for instance1 the game of chess between ,king and ,chancellor ends with a victory for ,becket1 who says-- ,you see my bishop ,hath brought your king to a standstill4 ,you are beaten4 ,the symbolical game of chess is a well-worn dramatic device4 ,becket1 moreover1 seems to feel some vague disquietude as to what may happen if he accepts the archbishopric2 but there is nothing to show that he is conscious of any bias towards the intransigent clericalism of the later act4 ,the character-problem1 in fact1 is not only not solved1 but is ignored4 ,the obligatory scene is skipped over1 in the interval between the ,prologue and the first act4 ,one of the finest plays of our time--,sir ,arthur ,pinero's ,iris--lacks1 in my judgment1 an obligatory scene4 ,the character of ,iris is admirably true1 so far as it goes2 but it is incomplete4 ,the author seems to have evaded the crucial point of his play--the scene of her installation in ,maldonado's flat4 ,to perfect his psychological study1 he was bound to bridge the chasm between the ,iris of the third act and the ,iris of the fourth4 ,he builds two ends of the bridge1 in the incident of the cheque-book at the close of the one act1 and in the state of hebetude in which we find her at the opening of the other2 but there remains a great gap at which the imagination boggles4 ,the author has tried to throw a retrospective footway across it in ,iris's confession to ,trenwith in the fifth act2 but ,i do not find that it quite meets the case4 ,it would no doubt have been very difficult to keep the action within reasonable limits had a new act taken the place of the existing fourth2 but ,sir ,arthur ,pinero would probably have produced a completer work of art had he faced this difficulty1 and contrived to compress into a single last act something like the matter of the existing fourth and fifth4 ,it may be that he deliberately preferred that ,iris should give in narrative the history of her decline2 but ,i do not consider this a case in support of that slight plea for impassioned narrative which ,i ventured to put forth a few pages back4 ,her confession to ,trenwith would have been far more dramatic and moving had it been about one-fourth part as long and one-fourth part as articulate4 99 99 99 99 99 ,of the scene imposed by history or legend it is unnecessary to say very much4 ,we saw in ,chapter ,,ix that the theatre is not the place for expounding the results of original research1 which cast a new light on historic character4 ,it is not the place for whitewashing ,richard ,,iii1 or representing him as a man of erect and graceful figure4 ,it is not the place for proving that ,guy ,fawkes was an earnest ,presbyterian1 that ,nell ,gwynn was a lady of the strictest morals1 or that ,george ,washington was incapable of telling the truth4 ,the playwright who deals with ,henry ,,viii is bound to present him1 in the schoolboy's phrase1 as a great widower4 ,william the ,silent must not be a chatterbox1 ,torquemada a humanitarian1 ,ivan the ,terrible a conscientious opponent of capital punishment4 ,and legend has its fixed points no less than history4 ,in the theatre1 indeed1 there is little distinction between them3 history is legend1 and legend history4 ,a dramatist may1 if he pleases 7though it is a difficult task71 break wholly unfamiliar ground in the past2 but where a historic legend exists he must respect it at his peril4 ,from all this it is a simple deduction that where legend 7historic or otherwise7 associates a particular character with a particular scene that is by any means presentable on the stage1 that scene becomes obligatory in a drama of which he is the leading figure4 ,the fact that ,shakespeare could write a play about ,king ,john1 and say nothing about ,runnymede and ,magna ,charta1 shows that that incident in constitutional history had not yet passed into popular legend4 ,when ,sir ,herbert ,tree revived the play1 he repaired the poet's omission by means of an inserted tableau4 ,even ,shakespeare had not the hardihood to let ,caesar fall without saying1 ,the ,ides of ,march are come and ,et tu1 ,brute6 ,nero is bound to fiddle while ,rome burns1 or the audience will know the reason why4#d ,historic criticism will not hear of the ,thou hast conquered1 ,galilean6 which legend attributes to ,julian the ,apostate2 yet ,ibsen not only makes him say it1 but may almost be said to find in the phrase the keynote of his world-historic drama4 ,tristram and ,iseult must drink a love-philtre or they are not ,tristram and ,iseult4 ,it would be the extreme of paradox to write a ,paolo-and-,francesca play and omit the scene of ,quel giorno pi non vi leggemmo avante4 ,the cases are not very frequent1 however1 in which an individual incident is thus imposed by history or legend4 ,the practical point to be noted is rather that1 when an author introduces a strongly-marked historical character1 he must be prepared to give him at least one good opportunity of acting up to the character which legend--the best of evidence in the theatre--assigns to him4 ,when such a personage is presented to us1 it ought to be at his highest potency4 ,we do not want to see-- ,from ,marlborough's eyes the tears of dotage flow1 ,and ,swift expire1 a driveller and a show4 ,if you deal with ,napoleon1 for instance1 it is perfectly clear that he must dominate the stage4 ,as soon as you bring in the name1 the idea1 of ,napoleon ,bonaparte1 men have eyes and ears for nothing else2 and they demand to see him1 in a general way1 acting up to their general conception of him4 ,that was what ,messrs4 ,lloyd ,osbourne and ,austin ,strong forgot in their otherwise clever play1 ,the ,exile4 ,it is useless to prove1 historically1 that at a given moment he was passive1 supine1 unconscious1 while people around him were eagerly plotting his escape and restoration4 ,that may have been so2 but it is not what an audience wants to see4 ,it wants to see ,napoleon ,napoleonizing4 ,for anomalies and uncharacteristic episodes in ,napoleon's career we must go to books2 the playhouse is not the place for them4 ,it is true that a dramatist like ,mr4 ,bernard ,shaw may1 at his own risk and peril1 set forth to give us a new reading of ,caesar or of ,napoleon1 which may or may not be dramatically acceptable4#e ,but this is not what ,messrs4 ,osbourne and ,strong tried to do4 ,their ,napoleon was the ,napoleon of tradition--only he failed to act in a concatenation according4 ,there are a few figures in history--and ,napoleon is one of them--which so thrill the imagination that their mere name can dominate the stage1 better1 perhaps1 than their bodily presence4 ,in ,l',aiglon1 by ,m4 ,rostand1 ,napoleon is in fact the hero1 though he lies dead in his far-off island1 under the ,southern ,cross4 ,another such figure is ,abraham ,lincoln4 ,in ,james ,herne's sadly underrated play1 ,griffith ,davenport1 we were always conscious of ,mr4 ,lincoln in the background2 and the act in which ,governor ,morton of ,indiana brought the ,president's instructions to ,davenport might fairly be called an obligatory scene1 inasmuch as it gave us the requisite sense of personal nearness to the master-spirit1 without involving any risk of belittlement through imperfections of representation4 ,there is a popular melodrama1 passing in ,palestine under the ,romans1 throughout the course of which we constantly feel the influence of a strange new prophet1 unseen but wonder-working1 who1 if ,i remember rightly1 is personally presented to us only in a final tableau1 wherein he appears riding into ,jerusalem amid the hosannas of the multitude4 ,the execution of ,ben ,hur is crude and commonplace1 but the conception is by no means inartistic4 ,historical figures of the highest rank may perhaps be best adumbrated in this fashion1 with or without one personal appearance1 so brief that there shall be no danger of anti-climax4 ,the last paragraph reminds us that the accomplished playwright shows his accomplishment quite as much in his recognition and avoidance of the scne ne pas faire as in his divination of the obligatory scene4 ,there is always the chance that no one may miss a scene demanded by logic or psychology2 but an audience knows too well when it has been bored or distressed by a superfluous1 or inconsequent1 or wantonly painful scene4 ,some twenty years ago1 in criticizing a play named ,le ,matre d',armes1 ,m4 ,sarcey took the authors gravely to task1 in the name of ,aristotle and common sense1 for following the modern and reprehensible tendency to present slices of life rather than constructed and developed dramas4 ,especially he reproached them with deliberately omitting the scne faire4 ,a young lady is seduced1 he says1 and1 for the sake of her child1 implores her betrayer to keep his promise of marriage4 ,he renews the promise1 without the slightest intention of fulfilling it1 and goes on board his yacht in order to make his escape4 ,she discovers his purpose and follows him on board the yacht4 ,what is the scene1 asks ,m4 ,sarcey--here ,i translate literally--which you expect1 you1 the public8 ,it is the scene between the abandoned fair one and her seducer4 ,the author may make it in a hundred ways1 but make it he must6 ,instead of which1 the critic proceeds1 we are fobbed off with a storm-scene1 a rescue1 and other sensational incidents1 and hear no word of what passes between the villain and his victim4 ,here1 ,i think1 ,m4 ,sarcey is mistaken in his application of his pet principle4 ,words cannot express our unconcern as to what passes between the heroine and the villain on board the yacht--nay1 more1 our gratitude for being spared that painful and threadbare scene of recrimination4 ,the plot demands1 observe1 that the villain shall not relent4 ,we know quite well that he cannot1 for if he did the play would fall to pieces4 ,why1 then1 should we expect or demand a sordid squabble which can lead to nothing8 ,we--and by we ,i mean the public which relishes such plays--cannot possibly have any keen appetite for copious re-hashes of such very cold mutton as the appeals of the penitent heroine to the recalcitrant villain4 ,and the moral seems to be that in this class of play--the drama1 if one may call it so1 of foregone character--the scne faire is precisely the scene to be omitted4 ,in plays of a more ambitious class1 skill is often shown by the indication1 in place of the formal presentment1 even of an important scene which the audience may1 or might1 have expected to witness in full4 ,we have already noted such a case in ,the ,wild ,duck3 ,ibsen knew that what we really required to witness was not the actual process of ,gregers's disclosure to ,hialmar1 but its effects4 ,a small1 but quite noticeable1 example of a scene thus rightly left to the imagination occurred in ,mr4 ,somerset ,maugham's first play1 ,a ,man of ,honour4 ,in the first act1 ,jack ,halliwell1 his wife1 and his sister-in-law call upon his friend ,basil ,kent4 ,the sister-in-law1 ,hilda ,murray1 is a rich widow2 and she and ,kent presently go out on the balcony together and are lost to view4 ,then it appears1 in a scene between the ,halliwells1 that they fully believe that ,kent is in love with ,mrs4 ,murray and is now proposing to her4 ,but when the two re-enter from the balcony1 it is evident from their mien that1 whatever may have passed between them1 they are not affianced lovers2 and we presently learn that though ,kent is in fact strongly attracted to ,mrs4 ,murray1 he considers himself bound in honour to marry a certain ,jenny ,bush1 a ,fleet ,street barmaid1 with whom he has become entangled4 ,many playwrights would1 so to speak1 have dotted the i's of the situation by giving us the scene between ,kent and ,mrs4 ,murray2 but ,mr4 ,maugham has done exactly right in leaving us to divine it4 ,we know all that1 at this point1 we require to know of the relation between them2 to have told us more would have been to anticipate and discount the course of events4 ,a more striking instance of a scene rightly placed behind the scenes occurs in ,m4 de ,curel's terrible drama ,les ,fossiles4 ,i need not go into the singularly unpleasing details of the plot4 ,suffice it to say that a very peculiar condition of things exists in the family of the ,duc de ,chantemelle4 ,it has been fully discussed in the second act between the ,duke and his daughter ,claire1 who has been induced to accept it for the sake of the family name4 ,but a person more immediately concerned is ,robert de ,chantemelle1 the only son of the house--will he also accept it quietly8 ,a nurse1 who is acquainted with the black secret1 misbehaves herself1 and is to be packed off4 ,as she is a violent woman1 ,robert insists on dismissing her himself1 and leaves the room to do so4 ,the rest of the family are sure that1 in her rage1 she will blurt out the whole story2 and they wait1 in breathless anxiety1 for ,robert's return4 ,what follows need not be told3 the point is that this scene--the scene of tense expectancy as to the result of a crisis which is taking place in another room of the same house--is really far more dramatic than the crisis itself would be4 ,the audience already knows all that the angry virago can say to her master2 and of course no discussion of the merits of the case is possible between these two4 ,therefore ,m4 de ,curel is conspicuously right in sparing us the scene of vulgar violence1 and giving us the scene of far higher tension in which ,robert's father1 wife and sister expect his return1 their apprehension deepening with every moment that he delays4 ,we see1 then1 that there is such a thing as a false scne faire--a scene which at first sight seems obligatory1 but is in fact much better taken for granted4 ,it may be absolutely indispensable that it should be suggested to the mind of the audience1 but neither indispensable nor advisable that it should be presented to their eyes4 ,the judicious playwright will often ask himself1 ,is it the actual substance of this scene that ,i require1 or only its repercussion8 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,for example1 in his criticism of ,becque's ,la ,parisienne 7,quarante ,ans de ,thtre1 ,,vi1 p4 #cfd71 he tells how1 at the end of the second act1 one of his neighbours said to him1 ,eh6 bien1 vous voil bien attrap6 ,o est la scne faire8 ,i freely admit1 he continues1 that there is no scne faire2 if there had been no third act ,i should not have been greatly astonished4 ,when you make it your business to recite on the stage articles from the ,vie ,parisienne1 it makes no difference whether you stop at the end of the second article or at the end of the third4 ,this clearly implies that a play in which there is no scne faire is nothing but a series of newspaper sketches4 ,becque1 one fancies1 might have replied that the scene between ,clotilde and ,monsieur ,simpson at the beginning of ,act ,,iii was precisely the scne faire demanded by the logic of his cynicism4 ,footnote #b3 ,i need scarcely direct the reader's attention to ,mr4 ,gilbert ,murray's noble renderings of these speeches4 ,footnote #c3 ,such a scene occurs in that very able play1 ,the ,way the ,money ,goes1 by ,lady ,bell4 ,footnote #d3 ,in ,mr4 ,stephen ,phillips's play he does not actually play on the lyre1 but he improvises and recites an ode to the conflagration4 ,footnote #e3 ,and1 after all1 ,mr4 ,shaw does not run counter to the legend4 ,he exhibits ,caesar and ,napoleon in their well-known attitudes3 only1 by an odd metempsychosis1 the soul of ,mr4 ,shaw has somehow entered into them4 ,,chapter ,,xiv ,,the ,,peripety ,in the ,greek theatre1 as every one knows1 the peripeteia or reversal of fortune--the turning of the tables1 as we might say--was a clearly-defined and recognized portion of the dramatic organism4 ,it was often associated with the anagnorisis or recognition4 ,mr4 ,gilbert ,murray has recently shown cause for believing that both these dramatic forms descended from the ritual in which ,greek drama took its origin--the ritual celebrating the death and resurrection of the season of mellow fruitfulness4 ,if this theory be true1 the peripeteia was at first a change from sorrow to joy--joy in the rebirth of the beneficent powers of nature4 ,and to this day a sudden change from gloom to exhilaration is a popular and effective incident--as when1 at the end of a melodrama1 the handcuffs are transferred from the wrists of the virtuous naval lieutenant to those of the wicked baronet1 and1 through the disclosure of a strawberry-mark on his left arm1 the lieutenant is recognized as the long-lost heir to a dukedom and #ej1jjj a year4 ,but when1 as soon happened in ,greece1 the forms appropriate to a celebration of the death and resurrection of ,dionysus came to be blent with the tomb-ritual of a hero1 the term peripeteia acquired a special association with a sudden decline from prosperity into adversity4 ,in the ,middle ,ages1 this was thought to be the very essence and meaning of tragedy1 as we may see from ,chaucer's lines3 ,tragedie is to seyn a certeyn storie1 ,as old boks maken us memorie1 ,of him that stood in gret prosperitee1 ,and is y-fallen out of heigh degree ,into miserie1 and endeth wrecchedly4 ,aristotle cites a good instance of a peripety--to ,anglicize the word--where1 in the ,lynceus1 the hero is led away to execution1 followed by ,danaus as executioner2 but1 as the effect of the antecedents1 ,danaus is executed and ,lynceus escapes4 ,but here1 as in so many other contexts1 we must turn for the classic example to the ,oedipus ,rex4 ,jocasta1 hearing from the ,corinthian stranger that ,polybus1 ,king of ,corinth1 the reputed father of ,oedipus1 is dead1 sends for her husband to tell him that the oracle which doomed him to parricide is defeated1 since ,polybus has died a natural death4 ,oedipus exults in the news and triumphs over the oracles2 but1 as the scene proceeds1 the further revelations made by the same stranger lead ,jocasta to recognize in ,oedipus her own child1 who was exposed on ,mount ,kithairon2 and1 in the subsequent scene1 the evidence of the old ,shepherd brings ,oedipus himself to the same crushing realization4 ,no completer case of anagnorisis and peripeteia could well be conceived--whatever we may have to say of the means by which it is led up to4#a ,has the conception of the peripety1 as an almost obligatory element in drama1 any significance for the modern playwright8 ,obligatory1 of course1 it cannot be3 it is easy to cite a hundred admirable plays in which it is impossible to discover anything that can reasonably be called a peripety4 ,but this1 ,i think1 we may safely say3 the dramatist is fortunate who finds in the development of his theme1 without unnatural strain or too much preparation1 opportunity for a great scene1 highly-wrought1 arresting1 absorbing1 wherein one or more of his characters shall experience a marked reversal either of inward soul-state or of outward fortune4 ,the theory of the peripety1 in short1 practically resolves itself for us into the theory of the great scene1 ,plays there are1 many and excellent plays1 in which some one scene stands out from all the rest1 impressing itself with peculiar vividness on the spectator's mind2 and1 nine times out of ten1 this scene will be found to involve a peripety4 ,it can do no harm1 then1 if the playwright should ask himself3 ,can ,i1 without any undue sacrifice1 so develop my theme as to entail upon my leading characters1 naturally and probably1 an experience of this order8 ,the peripeties of real life are frequent1 though they are apt to be too small in scale1 or else too fatally conclusive1 to provide material for drama4 ,one of the commonest1 perhaps1 is that of the man who enters a physician's consulting-room to seek advice in some trifling ailment1 and comes out again1 half an hour later1 doomed either to death or to some calamity worse than death4 ,this situation has been employed1 not ineffectively1 by ,sir ,arthur ,conan ,doyle1 in the first act of a romantic drama1 ,the ,fires of ,fate2 but it is very difficult to find any dramatic sequel to a peripety involving mere physical disaster4#b ,the moral peripety--the sudden dissipation of some illusion1 or defeat of some imposture1 or crumbling of some castle in the air--is a no less characteristic incident of real life1 and much more amenable to the playwright's uses4 ,certainly there are few things more impressive in drama than to see a man or woman--or a man and woman--come upon the stage1 radiant1 confident1 assured that ,god's in his heaven1 ,all's right with the world1 and leave it crushed and desperate1 after a gradual and yet swift descent into ,avernus4 ,such a scene is of the very marrow of drama4 ,it is a play within a play2 a concentrated1 quintessentiated crisis4 ,in the third act of ,othello we have a peripety handled with consummate theatrical skill4 ,to me--,i confess it with bated breath--the craftsmanship seems greatly superior to the psychology4 ,othello1 when we look into it1 succumbs with incredible facility to ,iago's poisoned pin-pricks2 but no audience dreams of looking into it2 and there lies the proof of ,shakespeare's technical mastery4 ,in the ,trial ,scene in ,the ,merchant of ,venice we have another great peripety4 ,it illustrates the obvious principle that1 where the drama consists in a conflict between two persons or parties1 the peripety is generally a double one--the sudden collapse of ,shylock's case implying an equally sudden restoration of ,antonio's fortunes4 ,perhaps the most striking peripety in ,ibsen is ,stockmann's fall from jubilant self-confidence to defiant impotence in the third act of ,an ,enemy of the ,people4 ,thinking that he has the compact majority at his back1 he assumes the ,burgomaster's insignia of office1 and lords it over his incensed brother1 only to learn1 by blow on blow of disillusionment1 that the compact majority has ratted1 that he is to be deprived of his position and income1 and that the commonest freedom of speech is to be denied him4 ,in ,a ,doll's ,house there are two peripeties3 ,nora's fall from elation to despair in the first scene with ,krogstad1 and the collapse of ,helmer's illusions in the last scene of all4 ,a good instance of the great scene which involves a marked peripety occurs in ,sardou's ,dora1 once famous in ,england under the title of ,diplomacy4 ,the scene of the three men shows how ,tkli1 a ,hungarian exile1 calls upon his old friend ,andr de ,maurillac1 on the day of ,andr's marriage1 and congratulates him on having eluded the wiles of a dangerous adventuress1 ,dora de ,rio-,zars1 by whom he had once seemed to be attracted4 ,but it is precisely ,dora whom ,andr has married2 and1 learning this1 ,tkli tries to withdraw1 or minimize1 his imputation4 ,for a moment a duel seems imminent2 but ,andr's friend1 ,favrolles1 adjures him to keep his head2 and the three men proceed to thrash the matter out as calmly as possible1 with the result that1 in the course of half-an-hour or so1 it seems to be proved beyond all doubt that the woman ,andr adores1 and whom he has just married1 is a treacherous spy1 who sells to tyrannical foreign governments the lives of political exiles and the honour of the men who fall into her toils4 ,the crushing suspicion is ultimately disproved1 by one of the tricks in which ,sardou delighted2 but that does not here concern us4 ,artificial as are its causes and its consequences1 the scene of the three men1 while it lasts1 holds us breathless and absorbed2 and ,andr's fall from the pinnacle of happiness to the depth of misery1 is a typical peripety4 ,equally typical and infinitely more tragic is another postnuptial peripety--the scene of the mutual confession of ,angel ,clare and ,tess in ,mr4 ,hardy's great novel4 ,as it stands on the printed page1 this scene is a superb piece of drama4 ,its greatness has been obscured in the ,english theatre by the general unskilfulness of the dramatic version presented4 ,one magnificent scene does not make a play4 ,in ,america1 on the other hand1 the fine acting of ,mrs4 ,fiske secured popularity for a version which was1 perhaps1 rather better than that which we saw in ,england4 ,i have said that dramatic peripeties are not infrequent in real life2 and their scene1 as is natural1 is often laid in the law courts4 ,it is unnecessary to recall the awful reversal of fortune that overtook one of the most brilliant of modern dramatists4 ,about the same period1 another drama of the ,english courts ended in a startling and terrible peripety4 ,a young lady was staying as a guest with a half-pay officer and his wife4 ,a valuable pearl belonging to the hostess disappeared2 and the hostess accused her guest of having stolen it4 ,the young lady1 who had meanwhile married1 brought an action for slander against her quondam friend4 ,for several days the case continued1 and everything seemed to be going in the plaintiff's favour4 ,major ,blank1 the defendant's husband1 was ruthlessly cross-examined by ,sir ,charles ,russell1 afterwards ,lord ,chief ,justice of ,england1 with a view to showing that he was the real thief4 ,he made a very bad witness1 and things looked black against him4 ,the end was nearing1 and every one anticipated a verdict in the plaintiff's favour1 when there came a sudden change of scene4 ,the stolen pearl had been sold to a firm of jewellers1 who had recorded the numbers of the ,bank of ,england notes with which they paid for it4 ,one of these notes was produced in court1 and lo6 it was endorsed with the name of the plaintiff4#c ,in a moment1 in the twinkling of an eye1 the whole edifice of mendacity and perjury fell to pieces4 ,the thief was arrested and imprisoned2 but the peripety for her was less terrible than for her husband1 who had married her in chivalrous faith in her innocence4 ,would it have been--or may it some day prove to be--possible to transfer this well-made drama of real life bodily to the stage8 ,i am inclined to think not4 ,it looks to me very much like one of those blind alley themes of which mention has been made4 ,there is matter1 indeed1 for most painful drama in the relations of the husband and wife1 both before and after the trial2 but1 from the psychological point of view1 one can see nothing in the case but a distressing and inexplicable anomaly4#d ,at the same time1 the bare fact of the sudden and tremendous peripety is irresistibly dramatic2 and ,mr4 ,henry ,arthur ,jones has admitted that it suggested to him the great scene of the unmasking of ,felicia ,hindemarsh in ,mrs4 ,dane's ,defence4 ,it is instructive to note the delicate adjustment which ,mr4 ,jones found necessary in order to adapt the theme to dramatic uses4 ,in the first place1 not wishing to plunge into the depths of tragedy1 he left the heroine unmarried1 though on the point of marriage4 ,in the second place1 he made the blot on her past1 not a theft followed by an attempt to shift the guilt on to other shoulders1 but an error of conduct1 due to youth and inexperience1 serious in itself1 but rendered disastrous by tragic consequences over which she1 ,felicia1 had no control4 ,thus ,mr4 ,jones raised a real and fairly sufficient obstacle between his lovers1 without rendering his heroine entirely unsympathetic1 or presenting her in the guise of a bewildering moral anomaly4 ,thirdly1 he transferred the scene of the peripety from a court of justice1 with its difficult adjuncts and tedious procedure1 to the private study of a great lawyer4 ,at the opening of the scene between ,mrs4 ,dane and ,sir ,daniel ,carteret1 she is1 no doubt1 still anxious and ill-at-ease1 but reasonably confident of having averted all danger of exposure4 ,sir ,daniel1 too 7like ,sir ,charles ,russell in the pearl suit71 is practically convinced of her innocence4 ,he merely wants to get the case absolutely clear1 for the final confounding of her accusers4 ,at first1 all goes smoothly4 ,mrs4 ,dane's answers to his questions are pat and plausible4 ,then she makes a single1 almost imperceptible1 slip of the tongue3 she says1 ,we had governesses1 instead of ,i had governesses4 ,sir ,daniel pricks up his ears3 ,we8 ,you say you were an only child4 ,who's we8 ,my cousin and ,i1 she answers4 ,sir ,daniel thinks it odd that he has not heard of this cousin before2 but he continues his interrogatory without serious suspicion4 ,then it occurs to him to look up1 in a topographical dictionary1 the little town of ,tawhampton1 where ,mrs4 ,dane spent her youth4 ,he reads the bald account of it1 ending thus1 ,the living is a ,vicarage1 net yearly value #cgf1 and has been held since #ahge by--and he turns round upon her--by the ,rev4 ,francis ,hindemarsh6 ,hindemarsh8 ,mrs4 ,dane3 ,he was my uncle4 ,sir ,daniel3 ,your uncle8 ,mrs4 ,dane3 ,sir ,daniel1 ,i've done wrong to hide from you that ,felicia ,hindemarsh was my cousin4 ,sir ,daniel3 ,felicia ,hindemarsh was your cousin6 ,mrs4 ,dane3 ,can't you understand why ,i have hidden it8 ,the whole affair was so terrible4 ,and so she stumbles on1 from one inevitable admission to another1 until the damning truth is clear that she herself is ,felicia ,hindemarsh1 the central1 though not the most guilty1 figure in a horrible scandal4 ,this scene is worthy of study as an excellent type of what may be called the judicial peripety1 the crushing cross-examination1 in which it is possible to combine the tension of the detective story with no small psychological subtlety4 ,in ,mr4 ,jones's scene1 the psychology is obvious enough2 but it is an admirable example of nice adjustment without any obtrusive ingenuity4 ,the whole drama1 in short1 up to the last act is1 in the exact sense of the word1 a well-made play--complex yet clear1 ingenious yet natural4 ,in the comparative weakness of the last act we have a common characteristic of latter-day drama1 which will have to be discussed in due course4 ,in this case we have a peripety of external fortune4 ,for a clearly-marked moral peripety we may turn to the great scene between ,vivie and her mother in the second act of ,mrs4 ,warren's ,profession4 ,whatever may be thought of the matter of this scene1 its movement is excellent4 ,after a short1 sharp opening1 which reveals to ,mrs4 ,warren the unfilial dispositions of her daughter1 and reduces her to whimpering dismay1 the following little passage occurs3 ,mrs4 ,warren3 ,you're very rough with me1 ,vivie4 ,vivie3 ,nonsense4 ,what about bed8 ,it's past ten4 ,mrs4 ,warren 7passionately73 ,what's the use of my going to bed8 ,do you think ,i could sleep8 ,vivie3 ,why not8 ,i shall4 ,then the mother turns upon the daughter's stony self-righteousness1 and pours forth her sordid history in such a way as to throw a searchlight on the conditions which make such histories possible2 until1 exhausted by her outburst1 she says1 ,oh1 dear6 ,i do believe ,i am getting sleepy after all1 and ,vivie replies1 ,i believe it is ,i who will not be able to sleep now4 ,mr4 ,shaw1 we see1 is at pains to emphasize his peripety4 ,some great scenes consist1 not of one decisive turning of the tables1 but of a whole series of minor vicissitudes of fortune4 ,such a scene is the third act of ,the ,gay ,lord ,quex1 a prolonged and thrilling duel1 in which ,sophy ,fullgarney passes by degrees from impertinent exultation to abject surrender and then springs up again to a mood of reckless defiance4 ,in the great scene of ,the ,thunderbolt1 on the other hand--the scene of ,thaddeus's false confession of having destroyed his brother's will--though there is1 in fact1 a great peripety1 it is not that which attracts and absorbs our interest4 ,all the greedy ,mortimore family fall from the height of jubilant confidence in their new-found wealth to the depth of disappointment and exasperation4 ,but this is not the aspect of the scene which grips and moves us4 ,our attention is centred on ,thaddeus's struggle to take his wife's misdeed upon himself2 and his failure cannot be described as a peripety1 seeing that it sinks him only one degree lower in the slough of despair4 ,like the scene in ,mrs4 ,dane's ,defence1 this is practically a piece of judicial drama--a hard-fought cross-examination4 ,but as there is no reversal of fortune for the character in whom we are chiefly interested1 it scarcely ranks as a scene of peripety4#e ,before leaving this subject1 we may note that a favourite effect of romantic drama is an upward reversal of fortune through the recognition--the anagnorisis--of some great personage in disguise4 ,victor ,hugo excelled in the superb gestures appropriate to such a scene3 witness the passage in ,hernani1 before the tomb of ,charlemagne1 where the obscure bandit claims the right to take his place at the head of the princes and nobles whom the newly-elected ,emperor has ordered off to execution3 ,hernani3 ,dieu qui donne le sceptre et qui te le donna ,m'a fait duc de ,segorbe et duc de ,cardona1 ,marquis de ,monroy1 comte ,albatra1 vicomte ,de ,gor1 seigneur de lieux dont j'ignore le compte4 ,je suis ,jean d',aragon1 grand matre d',avis1 n ,dans l'exil1 fils proscrit d'un pre assassin ,par sentence du tien1 roi ,carlos de ,castille4 99 99 99 99 99 7,aux autres conjurs7 ,couvrons nous1 grands d',espagnol 7,tous les ,espagnols se couvrent7 ,oui1 nos ttes1 roi6 ,ont le droit de tomber couvertes devant toi6 ,an effective scene of this type occurs in ,monsieur ,beaucaire1 where the supposed hairdresser is on the point of being ejected with contumely from the pump-room at ,bath1 when the ,french ,ambassador enters1 drops on his knee1 kisses the young man's hand1 and presents him to the astounded company as the ,duc d',orlans1 ,comte de ,valois1 and ,i know not what besides--a personage who immeasurably outshines the noblest of his insulters4 ,quieter1 but not less telling1 is the peripety in ,the ,little ,father of the ,wilderness1 by ,messrs4 ,lloyd ,osbourne and ,austin ,strong4 ,the ,pre ,marlotte1 who1 by his heroism and self-devotion1 has added vast territories to the ,french possessions in ,america1 is summoned to the court of ,louis ,,xv1 and naturally concludes that the king has heard of his services and wishes to reward them4 ,he finds1 on the contrary1 that he is wanted merely to decide a foolish bet2 and he is treated with the grossest insolence and contempt4 ,just as he is departing in humiliation1 the ,governor-,general of ,canada arrives1 with a suite of officers and ,indians4 ,the moment they are aware of ,pre ,marlotte's presence1 they all kneel to him and pay him deeper homage than they have paid to the king1 who accepts the rebuke and joins in their demonstration4 ,a famous peripety of the romantic order occurs in ,h4,m4,s4 ,pinafore1 where1 on the discovery that ,captain ,corcoran and ,ralph ,rackstraw have been changed at birth1 ,ralph instantly becomes captain of the ship1 while the captain declines into an able-bodied seaman4 ,this is one of the instances in which the idealism of art ekes out the imperfections of reality4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,that great spiritual drama known as the ,book of ,job opens1 after the ,prologue in ,heaven1 with one of the most startling of peripeties4 ,footnote #b3 ,the first act of ,mr4 ,gilbert ,murray's ,carlyon ,sahib contains an incident of this nature2 but it can scarcely be called a peripety1 since the victim remains unconscious of his doom4 ,footnote #c3 ,for the benefit of ,american readers1 it may be well to state that the person who changes a ,bank of ,england note is often asked to write his or her name on the back of it4 ,it must have been in a moment of sheer aberration that the lady in question wrote her own name4 ,footnote #d3 ,m4 ,bernstein1 dishing up a similar theme with a piquant sauce of sensuality1 made but a vulgar and trivial piece of work of it4 ,footnote #e3 ,one of the most striking peripeties in recent ,english drama occurs in the third act of ,the ,builder of ,bridges1 by ,mr4 ,alfred ,sutro4 ,,chapter ,,xv ,,probability1 ,,chance1 ,,and ,,coincidence ,aristotle indulges in an often-quoted paradox to the effect that1 in drama1 the probable impossible is to be preferred to the improbable possible4 ,with all respect1 this seems to be a somewhat cumbrous way of stating the fact that plausibility is of more importance on the stage than what may be called demonstrable probability4 ,there is no time1 in the rush of a dramatic action1 for a mathematical calculation of the chances for and against a given event1 or for experimental proof that such and such a thing can or cannot be done4 ,if a thing seem plausible1 an audience will accept it without cavil2 if it1 seem incredible on the face of it1 no evidence of its credibility will be of much avail4 ,this is merely a corollary from the fundamental principle that the stage is the realm of appearances2 not of realities1 where paste jewels are at least as effective as real ones1 and a painted forest is far more sylvan than a few wilted and drooping saplings1 insecurely planted upon the boards4 ,that is why an improbable or otherwise inacceptable incident cannot be validly defended on the plea that it actually happened3 that it is on record in history or in the newspapers4 ,in the first place1 the dramatist can never put it on the stage as it happened4 ,the bare fact may be historical1 but it is not the bare fact that matters4 ,the dramatist cannot restore it to its place in that intricate plexus of cause and effect1 which is the essence and meaning of reality4 ,he can only give his interpretation of the fact2 and one knows not how to calculate the chances that his interpretation may be a false one4 ,but even if this difficulty could be overcome2 if the dramatist could prove that he had reproduced the event with photographic and cinematographic accuracy1 his position would not thereby be improved4 ,he would still have failed in his peculiar task1 which is precisely that of interpretation4 ,not truth1 but verisimilitude1 is his aim2 for the stage is the realm of appearances1 in which intrusive realities become unreal4 ,there are1 as ,i have said1 incalculable chances to one that the playwright's version of a given event will not coincide with that of the ,recording ,angel3 but it may be true and convincing in relation to human nature in general1 in which case it will belong to the sphere of great art2 or1 on a lower level1 it may be agreeable and entertaining without being conspicuously false to human nature1 in which case it will do no harm1 since it makes no pretence to historic truth4 ,it may be objected that the sixteenth-century public1 and even1 in the next century1 the great ,duke of ,marlborough1 got their knowledge of ,english history from ,shakespeare1 and the other writers of chronicle-plays4 ,well1 ,i leave it to historians to determine whether this very defective and1 in great measure1 false vision of the past was better or worse than none4 ,the danger at any rate1 if danger there was1 is now past and done with4 ,even our generals no longer go to the theatre or to the ,first ,folio for their history4 ,the dramatist may1 with an easy conscience1 interpret historic fact in the light of his general insight into human nature1 so long as he does not so falsify the recorded event that common knowledge cries out against him4#a ,plausibility1 then1 not abstract or concrete probability1 and still less literal faithfulness to recorded fact1 is what the dramatist is bound to aim at4 ,to understand this as a belittling of his art is to misunderstand the nature of art in general4 ,the plausibility of bad art is doubtless contemptible and may be harmful4 ,but to say that good art must be plausible is only to say that not every sort of truth1 or every aspect of truth1 is equally suitable for artistic representation--or1 in more general terms1 that the artist1 without prejudice to his allegiance to nature1 must respect the conditions of the medium in which he works4 ,our standards of plausibility1 however1 are far from being invariable4 ,to each separate form of art1 a different standard is applicable4 ,in what may roughly be called realistic art1 the terms plausible and probable are very nearly interchangeable4 ,where the dramatist appeals to the sanction of our own experience and knowledge1 he must not introduce matter against which our experience and knowledge cry out4 ,a very small inaccuracy in a picture which is otherwise photographic will often have a very disturbing effect4 ,in plays of society in particular1 the criticism ,no one does such things1 is held by a large class of playgoers to be conclusive and destructive4 ,one has known people despise a play because ,lady ,so-and-so's manner of speaking to her servants was not what they 7the cavillers7 were accustomed to4 ,on the other hand1 one has heard a whole production highly applauded because the buttons on a particular uniform were absolutely right4 ,this merely means that when an effort after literal accuracy is apparent1 the attention of the audience seizes on the most trifling details and is apt to magnify their importance4 ,niceties of language in especial are keenly1 and often unjustly1 criticized4 ,if a particular expression does not happen to be current in the critic's own circle1 he concludes that nobody uses it1 and that the author is a pedant or a vulgarian4 ,in view of this inevitable tendency1 the prudent dramatist will try to keep out of his dialogue expressions that are peculiar to his own circle1 and to use only what may be called everybody's ,english1 or the language undoubtedly current throughout the whole class to which his personage belongs4 ,it may be here pointed out that there are three different planes on which plausibility may or may not1 be achieved4 ,there is first the purely external plane1 which concerns the producer almost as much as the playwright4 ,on this plane we look for plausibility of costume1 of manners1 of dialect1 of general environment4 ,then we have plausibility of what may be called uncharacteristic event--of such events as are independent of the will of the characters1 and are not conditioned by their psychology4 ,on this plane we have to deal with chance and accident1 coincidence1 and all circumstances over which we have no control4 ,for instance1 the playwright who makes the ,marseillaise become popular throughout ,paris within half-an-hour of its having left the composer's desk1 is guilty of a breach of plausibility on this plane4 ,so1 too1 if ,i were to make my hero enter ,parliament for the first time1 and rise in a single session to be ,prime ,minister of ,england--there would be no absolute impossibility in the feat1 but it would be a rather gross improbability of the second order4 ,on the third plane we come to psychological plausibility1 the plausibility of events dependent mainly or entirely on character4 ,for example--to cite a much disputed instance--is it plausible that ,nora1 in ,a ,doll's ,house1 should suddenly develop the mastery of dialectics with which she crushes ,helmer in the final scene1 and should desert her husband and children1 slamming the door behind her8 ,it need scarcely be said that plausibility on the third plane is vastly the most important4 ,a very austere criticism might even call it the one thing worth consideration4 ,but1 as a matter of fact1 when we speak of plausibility1 it is almost always the second plane--the plane of uncharacteristic circumstance--that we have in mind4 ,to plausibility of the third order we give a more imposing name--we call it truth4 ,we say that ,nora's action is true--or untrue--to nature4 ,we speak of the truth with which the madness of ,lear1 the malignity of ,iago1 the race hatred of ,shylock1 is portrayed4 ,truth1 in fact1 is the term which we use in cases where the tests to be applied are those of introspection1 intuition1 or knowledge sub-consciously garnered from spiritual experience4 ,where the tests are external1 and matters of common knowledge or tangible evidence1 we speak of plausibility4 ,it would be a mistake1 however1 to imagine that because plausibility of the third degree1 or truth1 is the noblest attribute of drama1 it is therefore the one thing needful4 ,in some forms of drama it is greatly impaired1 or absolutely nullified1 if plausibility of the second degree1 its necessary preliminary1 be not carefully secured4 ,in the case above imagined1 for instance1 of the young politician who should become ,prime ,minister immediately on entering ,parliament3 it would matter nothing with what profundity of knowledge or subtlety of skill the character was drawn3 we should none the less decline to believe in him4 ,some dramatists1 as a matter of fact1 find it much easier to attain truth of character than plausibility of incident4 ,every one who is in the habit of reading manuscript plays1 must have come across the would-be playwright who has a good deal of general ability and a considerable power of characterization1 but seems to be congenitally deficient in the sense of external reality1 so that the one thing he 7or she7 can by no means do is to invent or conduct an action that shall be in the least like any sequence of events in real life4 ,it is naturally difficult to give examples1 for the plays composed under this curious limitation are apt to remain in manuscript1 or to be produced for one performance1 and forgotten4 ,there is1 however1 one recent play of this order which holds a certain place in dramatic literature4 ,i do not know that ,mr4 ,granville ,barker was well-advised in printing ,the ,marrying of ,anne ,leete along with such immeasurably maturer and saner productions as ,the ,voysey ,inheritance and ,waste2 but by doing so he has served my present purpose in providing me with a perfect example of a play as to which we cannot tell whether it possesses plausibility of the third degree1 so absolutely does it lack that plausibility of the second degree which is its indispensable condition precedent4 ,francisque ,sarcey was fond of insisting that an audience would generally accept without cavil any postulates in reason which an author chose to impose upon it1 with regard to events supposed to have occurred before the rise of the curtain2 always provided that the consequences deduced from them within the limits of the play were logical1 plausible1 and entertaining4 ,the public will swallow a camel1 he would maintain1 in the past1 though they will strain at a gnat in the present4 ,a classical example of this principle is 7once more7 the ,oedipus ,rex1 in which several of the initial postulates are wildly improbable3 for instance1 that ,oedipus should never have inquired into the circumstances of the death of ,laius1 and that1 having been warned by an oracle that he was doomed to marry his mother1 he should not have been careful1 before marrying any woman1 to ascertain that she was younger than himself4 ,there is at least so much justification for ,sarcey's favourite principle1 that we are less apt to scrutinize things merely narrated to us than events which take place before our eyes4 ,it is simply a special instance of the well-worn ,segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem ,quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus4 ,but the principle is of very limited artistic validity4 ,no one would nowadays think of justifying a gross improbability in the antecedents of a play by ,ibsen or ,sir ,arthur ,pinero1 by ,mr4 ,galsworthy or ,mr4 ,granville ,barker1 on the plea that it occurred outside the frame of the picture4 ,such a plea might1 indeed1 secure a mitigation of sentence1 but never a verdict of acquittal4 ,sarcey1 on the other hand1 brought up in the school of the well-made play1 would rather have held it a feather in the playwright's cap that he should have known just where1 and just how1 he might safely outrage probability #b4 ,the inference is that we now take the dramatist's art more seriously than did the generation of the ,second ,empire in ,france4 ,this brings us1 however1 to an important fact1 which must by no means be overlooked4 ,there is a large class of plays--or rather1 there are several classes of plays1 some of them not at all to be despised--the charm of which resides1 not in probability1 but in ingenious and delightful improbability4 ,i am1 of course1 not thinking of sheer fantasies1 like ,a ,midsummer ,night's ,dream1 or ,peter ,pan1 or ,the ,blue ,bird4 ,they may1 indeed1 possess plausibility of the third order1 but plausibility of the second order has no application to them4 ,its writs do not run on their extramundane plane4 ,the plays which appeal to us in virtue of their pleasant departures from probability are romances1 farces1 a certain order of light comedies and semi-comic melodramas--in short1 the thousand and one plays in which the author1 without altogether despising and abjuring truth1 makes it on principle subsidiary to delightfulness4 ,plays of the ,prisoner of ,zenda type would come under this head3 so would ,sir ,arthur ,pinero's farces1 ,the ,magistrate1 ,the ,schoolmistress1 ,dandy ,dick2 so would ,mr4 ,carton's light comedies1 ,lord and ,lady ,algy1 ,wheels within ,wheels1 ,lady ,huntworth's ,experiment2 so would most of ,mr4 ,barrie's comedies2 so would ,mr4 ,arnold ,bennett's play1 ,the ,honeymoon4 ,in a previous chapter ,i have sketched the opening act of ,mr4 ,carton's ,wheels within ,wheels1 which is a typical example of this style of work4 ,its charm lies in a subtle1 all-pervading improbability1 an infusion of fantasy so delicate that1 while at no point can one say1 ,this is impossible1 the total effect is far more entertaining than that of any probable sequence of events in real life4 ,the whole atmosphere of such a play should be impregnated with humour1 without reaching that gross supersaturation which we find in the lower order of farce-plays of the type of ,charlie's ,aunt or ,niobe4 99 99 99 99 99 ,plausibility of development1 as distinct from plausibility of theme or of character1 depends very largely on the judicious handling of chance1 and the exclusion1 or very sparing employment1 of coincidence4 ,this is a matter of importance1 into which we shall find it worth while to look somewhat closely4 ,it is not always clearly recognized that chance and coincidence are by no means the same thing4 ,coincidence is a special and complex form of chance1 which ought by no means to be confounded with the everyday variety4 ,we need not here analyse chance1 or discuss the philosophic value of the term4 ,it is enough that we all know what we mean by it in common parlance4 ,it may be well1 however1 to look into the etymology of the two words we are considering4 ,they both come ultimately1 from the ,latin cadere1 to fall4 ,chance is a falling-out1 like that of a die from the dice-box2 and coincidence signifies one falling-out on the top of another1 the concurrent happening of two or more chances which resemble or somehow fit into each other4 ,if you rattle six dice in a box and throw them1 and they turn up at haphazard--say1 two aces1 a deuce1 two fours1 and a six--there is nothing remarkable in this falling out4 ,but if they all turn up sixes1 you at once suspect that the dice are cogged2 and if that be not so--if there be no sufficient cause behind the phenomenon--you say that this identical falling-out of six separate possibilities was a remarkable coincidence4 ,now1 applying the illustration to drama1 ,i should say that the playwright is perfectly justified in letting chance play its probable and even inevitable part in the affairs of his characters2 but that1 the moment we suspect him of cogging the dice1 we feel that he is taking an unfair advantage of us1 and our imagination either cries1 ,i won't play6 or continues the game under protest4 ,some critics have considered it a flaw in ,shakespeare's art that the catastrophe of ,romeo and ,juliet should depend upon a series of chances1 and especially on the miscarriage of the ,friar's letter to ,romeo4 ,this is not1 ,i think1 a valid criticism4 ,we may1 if we are so minded1 pick to pieces the course of action which brought these chances into play4 ,the device of the potion--even if such a drug were known to the pharmacopoeia--is certainly a very clumsy method of escape from the position in which ,juliet is placed by her father's obstinacy4 ,but when once we have accepted that integral part of the legend1 the intervention of chance in the catastrophe is entirely natural and probable4 ,observe that there is no coincidence in the matter1 no interlinking or dovetailing of chances4 ,the catastrophe results from the hot-headed impetuosity of all the characters1 which so hurries events that there is no time for the elimination of the results of chance4 ,letters do constantly go astray1 even under our highly-organized system of conveyance2 but their delay or disappearance seldom leads to tragic results1 because most of us have learnt to take things calmly and wait for the next post4 ,yet if we could survey the world at large1 it is highly probable that every day or every hour we should somewhere or other find some ,romeo on the verge of committing suicide because of a chance misunderstanding with regard to his ,juliet2 and in a certain percentage of cases the explanatory letter or telegram would doubtless arrive too late4 ,we all remember how1 in ,mr4 ,hardy's ,tess1 the main trouble arises from the fact that the letter pushed under ,angel ,clare's door slips also under the carpet of his room1 and so is never discovered4 ,this is an entirely probable chance2 and the sternest criticism would hardly call it a flaw in the structure of the fable4 ,but take another case3 ,madame ,x has had a child1 of whom she has lost sight for more than twenty years1 during which she has lived abroad4 ,she returns to ,france1 and immediately on landing at ,bordeaux she kills a man who accompanies her4 ,the court assigns her defence to a young advocate1 and this young advocate happens to be her son4 ,we have here a piling of chance upon chance1 in which the long arm of coincidence#c is very apparent4 ,the coincidence would have been less startling had she returned to the place where she left her son and where she believed him to be4 ,but no6 she left him in ,paris1 and it is only by a series of pure chances that he happens to be in ,bordeaux1 where she happens to land1 and happens to shoot a man4 ,for the sake of a certain order of emotional effect1 a certain order of audience is willing to accept this piling up of chances2 but it relegates the play to a low and childish plane of art4 ,the ,oedipus ,rex1 indeed--which meets us at every turn--is founded on an absolutely astounding series of coincidences2 but here the conception of fate comes in1 and we vaguely figure to ourselves some malignant power deliberately pulling the strings which guide its puppets into such abhorrent tangles4 ,on the modern view that character is destiny1 the conception of supernatural wire-pulling is excluded4 ,it is true that amazing coincidences do occur in life2 but when they are invented to serve an artist's purposes1 we feel that he is simplifying his task altogether beyond reason1 and substituting for normal and probable development an irrelevant plunge into the merely marvellous4 ,of the abuse of coincidence1 ,i have already given a specimen in speaking of ,the ,rise of ,dick ,halward 7,chapter ,,xii74 ,one or two more examples may not be out of place4 ,i need not dwell on the significance of the fact that most of them occur in forgotten plays4 ,in ,the ,man of ,forty1 by ,mr4 ,walter ,frith1 we find the following conjuncture of circumstances3 ,mr4 ,lewis ,dunster has a long-lost wife and a long-lost brother4 ,he has been for years in ,south ,africa2 they have meanwhile lived in ,london1 but they do not know each other1 and have held no communication4 ,lewis1 returning from ,africa1 arrives in ,london4 ,he does not know where to find either wife or brother1 and has not the slightest wish to look for them2 yet in the first house he goes to1 the home of a lady whose acquaintance he chanced to make on the voyage1 he encounters both his wife and his brother6 ,not quite so startling is the coincidence on which ,mrs4 ,willoughby's ,kiss1 by ,mr4 ,frank ,stayton1 is founded4 ,an upper and lower flat in ,west ,kensington are inhabited1 respectively1 by ,mrs4 ,brandram and ,mrs4 ,willoughby1 whose husbands have both been many years absent in ,india4 ,by pure chance the two husbands come home in the same ship2 the two wives go to ,plymouth to meet them1 and by pure chance1 for they are totally unacquainted with each other1 they go to the same hotel2 whence it happens that ,mrs4 ,willoughby1 meeting ,mr4 ,brandram in a half-lighted room1 takes him for her husband1 flies to his arms and kisses him4 ,more elaborate than either of these is the tangle of coincidences in ,mr4 ,stuart ,ogilvie's play1 ,the ,white ,knight-- ,giulietta1 the ward of ,david ,pennycuick1 goes to study singing at ,milan4 ,mr4 ,harry ,rook1 ,pennycuick's most intimate friend1 meets her by chance in ,milan1 and she becomes his mistress1 neither having the least idea that the other knows ,pennycuick4 ,then ,viscount ,hintlesham1 like ,pennycuick1 a dupe of ,rook's1 meets her by chance at ,monte ,carlo and falls in love with her4 ,he does not know that she knows ,rook or ,pennycuick1 and she does not know that he knows them4 ,arriving in ,england1 she finds in the manager1 the promoter1 and the chairman of the ,electric ,white ,lead ,company her guardian1 her seducer1 and her lover4 ,when she comes to see her guardian1 the first person she meets is her seducer1 and she learns that her lover has just left the house4 ,up to that moment1 ,i repeat1 she did not know that any one of these men knew any other2 yet she does not even say1 ,how small the world is6#d ,surely some such observation was obligatory under the circumstances4 ,let us turn now to a more memorable piece of work2 that interesting play of ,sir ,arthur ,pinero's transition period1 ,the ,profligate4 ,here the great situation of the third act is brought about by a chain of coincidences which would be utterly unthinkable in the author's maturer work4 ,leslie ,brudenell1 the heroine1 is the ward of ,mr4 ,cheal1 a solicitor4 ,she is to be married to ,dunstan ,renshaw2 and1 as she has no home1 the bridal party meets at ,mr4 ,cheal's office before proceeding to the registrar's4 ,no sooner have they departed than ,janet ,preece1 who has been betrayed and deserted by ,dunstan ,renshaw 7under an assumed name7 comes to the office to state her piteous case4 ,this is not in itself a pure coincidence2 for ,janet happened to come to ,london in the same train with ,leslie ,brudenell and her brother ,wilfrid2 and ,wilfrid1 seeing in her a damsel in distress1 recommended her to lay her troubles before a respectable solicitor1 giving her ,mr4 ,cheal's address4 ,so far1 then1 the coincidence is not startling4 ,it is natural enough that ,renshaw's mistress and his betrothed should live in the same country town2 and it is not improbable that they should come to ,london by the same train1 and that ,wilfrid ,brudenell should give the bewildered and weeping young woman a commonplace piece of advice4 ,the concatenation of circumstances is remarkable rather than improbable4 ,but when1 in the next act1 not a month later1 ,janet ,preece1 by pure chance1 drops in at the ,florentine villa where ,renshaw and ,leslie are spending their honeymoon1 we feel that the long arm of coincidence is stretched to its uttermost1 and that even the thrilling situation which follows is very dearly bought4 ,it would not have been difficult to attenuate the coincidence4 ,what has actually happened is this3 ,janet has 7we know not how7 become a sort of maid-companion to a ,mrs4 ,stonehay1 whose daughter was a school-friend of ,leslie's2 the ,stonehays have come to ,florence1 knowing nothing of ,leslie's presence there2 and they happen to visit the villa in order to see a fresco which it contains4 ,if1 now1 we had been told that ,janet's engagement by the ,stonehays had resulted from her visit to ,mr4 ,cheal1 and that the ,stonehays had come to ,florence knowing ,leslie to be there1 and eager to find her1 several links would have been struck off the chain of coincidence2 or1 to put it more exactly1 a fairly coherent sequence of events would have been substituted for a series of incoherent chances4 ,the same result might no doubt have been achieved in many other and neater ways4 ,i merely indicate1 by way of illustration1 a quite obvious method of reducing the element of coincidence in the case4 ,the coincidence in ,the ,second ,mrs4 ,tanqueray1 by which ,ellean meets and falls in love with one of ,paula's ex-lovers1 has been very severely criticized4 ,it is certainly not one of the strong points of the play2 but1 unlike the series of chances we have just been examining1 it places no excessive strain on our credulity4 ,such coincidences do occur in real life2 we have all of us seen or heard of them2 the worst we can say of this one is that it is neither positively good nor positively bad--a piece of indifferent craftsmanship4 ,on the other hand1 if we turn to ,letty1 the chance which1 in the third act1 leads ,letchmere's party and ,mandeville's party to choose the same restaurant1 seems to me entirely justified4 ,it is not really a coincidence at all1 but one of those everyday happenings which are not only admissible in drama1 but positively desirable1 as part of the ordinary surface-texture of life4 ,entirely to eliminate chance from our representation of life would be a very unreasonable austerity4 ,strictly speaking1 indeed1 it is impossible2 for even when we have worked out an unbroken chain of rational and commensurate causes and effects1 it remains a chance1 and an unlikely chance1 that chance should not have interfered with it4 ,all the plays touched upon in the last four paragraphs are in intention realistic4 ,they aim1 that is to say1 at a literal and sober representation of life4 ,in the other class of plays1 which seek their effect1 not in plodding probability1 but in delightful improbability1 the long arm of coincidence has its legitimate functions4 ,yet even here it is not quite unfettered4 ,one of the most agreeable coincidences in fiction1 ,i take it1 is the simultaneous arrival in ,bagdad1 from different quarters of the globe1 of three one-eyed calenders1 all blind of the right eye1 and all1 in reality1 the sons of kings4 ,but it is to be noted that this coincidence is not a crucial occurrence in a story1 but only a part of the story-teller's framework or mechanism--a device for introducing fresh series of adventures4 ,this illustrates the ,sarceyan principle above referred to1 which ,professor ,brander ,matthews has re-stated in what seems to me an entirely acceptable form--namely1 that improbabilities which may be admitted on the outskirts of an action1 must be rigidly excluded when the issue is joined and we are in the thick of things4 ,coincidences1 in fact1 become the more improbable in the direct ratio of their importance4 ,we have all1 in our own experience1 met with amazing coincidences2 but how few of us have ever gained or lost1 been made happy or unhappy1 by a coincidence1 as distinct from a chance6 ,it is not precisely probable that three brothers1 who have separated in early life1 and have not heard of one another for twenty years1 should find themselves seated side by side at an ,italian table-d'hte2 yet such coincidences have occurred1 and are creditable enough so long as nothing particular comes of them4 ,but if a dramatist were to make these three brothers meet in ,messina on the eve of the earthquake1 in order that they might all be killed1 and thus enable his hero 7their cousin7 to succeed to a peerage and marry the heroine1 we should say that his use of coincidence was not strictly artistic4 ,a coincidence1 in short1 which coincides with a crisis is thereby raised to the nth power1 and is wholly inacceptable in serious art4 ,mr4 ,bernard ,shaw has based the action of ,you ,never ,can ,tell on the amazing coincidence that ,mrs4 ,clandon and her children1 coming to ,england after eighteen years' absence1 should by pure chance run straight into the arms1 or rather into the teeth1 of the husband and father whom the mother1 at any rate1 only wishes to avoid4 ,this is no bad starting-point for an extravaganza2 but even ,mr4 ,shaw1 though a despiser of niceties of craftsmanship1 introduces no coincidences into serious plays such as ,candida or ,the ,doctor's ,dilemma4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,the malignant caricature of ,cromwell in ,w4,g4 ,wills' ,charles ,i did not1 indeed1 prevent the acceptance of the play by the mid-,victorian public2 but it will certainly shorten the life of the one play which might have secured for its author a lasting place in dramatic literature4 ,it is unimaginable that future generations should accept a representation of ,cromwell as ,a mouthing patriot1 with an itching palm1 ,in one hand menace1 in the other greed4 ,footnote #b3 ,it is only fair to say that ,sarcey drew a distinction between antecedent events and what he calls postulates of character4 ,he did not maintain that an audience ought to accept a psychological impossibility1 merely because it was placed outside the frame of the picture4 ,see ,quarante ,ans de ,thtre1 vii1 p4 #cie4 ,footnote #c3 ,this phrase1 which occurs in ,mr4 ,haddon ,chambers's romantic melodrama1 ,captain ,swift1 was greeted with a burst of laughter by the first-night audience2 but little did we then think that ,mr4 ,chambers was enriching the ,english language4 ,it is not1 on examination1 a particularly luminous phrase3 the three or four arms of coincidence would really be more to the point4 ,but it is not always the most accurate expression that is fittest to survive4 ,footnote #d3 ,the abuse of coincidence is a legacy to modern drama from the ,latin comedy1 which1 again1 was founded on the ,greek ,new ,comedy4 ,it is worth noting that in the days of ,menander the world really was much smaller than it is to-day1 when thalassic has grown into oceanic civilization4 ,travellers in those days followed a few main routes2 half a dozen great seaports were rendezvous for all the world2 the slave-trade was active1 and kidnappings and abductions with the corresponding meetings and recognitions were no doubt frequent4 ,thus such a plot as that of the ,menaechmi was by no means the sheer impossibility which ,shakespeare made it by attaching indistinguishable ,dromios to his indistinguishable ,antipholuses4 ,to reduplicate a coincidence is in fact to multiply it by a figure far beyond my mathematics4 ,it may be noted1 too1 that the practice of exposing children1 on which the ,oedipus1 and many plays of ,menander1 are founded1 was common in historic ,greece1 and that the hapless children were generally provided with identification-tokens gnorismata4 ,,chapter ,,xvi ,,logic ,the term logic is often very vaguely used in relation to drama4 ,french writers especially1 who regard logic as one of the peculiar faculties of their national genius1 are apt to insist upon it in and out of season4 ,but1 as we have already seen1 logic is a gift which may easily be misapplied4 ,it too often leads such writers as ,m4 ,brieux and ,m4 ,hervieu to sacrifice the undulant and diverse rhythms of life to a stiff and symmetrical formalism4 ,the conception of a play as the exhaustive demonstration of a thesis has never taken a strong hold on the ,anglo-,saxon mind2 and1 though some of ,m4 ,brieux's plays are much more than mere dramatic arguments1 we need not1 in the main1 envy the ,french their logician-dramatists4 ,but1 though the presence of logic should never be forced upon the spectator's attention1 still less should he be disturbed and baffled by its conspicuous absence4 ,if the playwright announces a theme at all3 if he lets it be seen that some general idea underlies his work3 he is bound to present and develop that idea in a logical fashion1 not to shift his ground1 whether inadvertently or insidiously1 and not to wander off into irrelevant side-issues4 ,he must face his problem squarely4 ,if he sets forth to prove anything at all1 he must prove that thing and not some totally different thing4 ,he must beware of the red-herring across the trail4 ,for a clear example of defective logic1 ,i turn to a ,french play--,sardou's ,spiritisme4 ,both from internal and from external evidence1 it is certain that ,m4 ,sardou was a believer in spiritualism--in the existence of disembodied intelligences1 and their power of communicating with the living4 ,yet he had not the courage to assign to them an essential part in his drama4 ,the spirits hover round the outskirts of the action1 but do not really or effectually intervene in it4 ,the hero's belief in them1 indeed1 helps to bring about the conclusion2 but the apparition which so potently works upon him is an admitted imposture1 a pious fraud4 ,earlier in the play1 two or three trivial and unnecessary miracles are introduced--just enough to hint at the author's faith without decisively affirming it4 ,for instance3 towards the close of ,act ,i ,madame d',aubenas has gone off1 nominally to take the night train for ,poitiers1 in reality to pay a visit to her lover1 ,m4 de ,stoudza4 ,when she has gone1 her husband and his guests arrange a sance and evoke a spirit4 ,no sooner have preliminaries been settled than the spirit spells out the word ,o-u-v-r-e-z4 ,they open the window1 and behold6 the sky is red with a glare which proves to proceed from the burning of the train in which ,madame d',aubenas is supposed to have started4 ,the incident is effective enough1 and a little creepy2 but its effect is quite incommensurate with the strain upon our powers of belief4 ,the thing is supposed to be a miracle1 of that there can be no doubt2 but it has not the smallest influence on the course of the play1 except to bring on the hurry-scurry and alarm a few minutes earlier than might otherwise have been the case4 ,now1 if the spirit1 instead of merely announcing the accident1 had informed ,m4 d',aubenas that his wife was not in it--if1 for example1 it had rapped out ,gilberte chez ,stoudza--it would have been an honest ghost 7though indiscreet71 and we should not have felt that our credulity had been taxed to no purpose4 ,as it is1 the logical deduction from ,m4 ,sardou's fable is that1 though spirit communications are genuine enough1 they are never of the slightest use2 but we can scarcely suppose that that was what he intended to convey4 ,it may be said1 and perhaps with truth1 that what ,sardou lacked in this instance was not logic1 but courage3 he felt that an audience would accept episodic miracles1 but would reject supernatural interference at a determining crisis in the play4 ,in that case he would have done better to let the theme alone3 for the manifest failure of logic leaves the play neither good drama nor good argument4 ,this is a totally different matter from ,ibsen's treatment of the supernatural in such plays as ,the ,lady from the ,sea1 ,the ,master ,builder and ,little ,eyolf4 ,ibsen1 like ,hawthorne1 suggests without affirming the action of occult powers4 ,he shows us nothing that is not capable of a perfectly natural explanation2 but he leaves us to imagine1 if we are so disposed1 that there may be influences at work that are not yet formally recognized in physics and psychology4 ,in this there is nothing illogical4 ,the poet is merely appealing to a mood1 familiar to all of us1 in which we wonder whether there may not be more things in heaven and earth than are crystallized in our scientific formulas4 ,it is a grave defect of logic to state1 or hint at1 a problem1 and then illustrate it in such terms of character that it is solved in advance4 ,in ,the ,liars1 by ,mr4 ,henry ,arthur ,jones1 there is an evident suggestion of the problem whether a man is ever justified in rescuing a woman1 by means of the ,divorce ,court1 from marital bondage which her soul abhors4 ,the sententious ,sir ,christopher ,deering argues the matter at great length3 but all the time we are hungering for him to say the one thing demanded by the logic of the situation3 to wit3 ,whatever the abstract rights and wrongs of the case1 this man would be an imbecile to elope with this woman1 who is an empty-headed1 empty-hearted creature1 incapable either of the passion or of the loathing which alone could lend any semblance of reason to a breach of social law4 ,similarly1 in ,the ,profligate1 ,sir ,arthur ,pinero no doubt intended us to reflect upon the question whether1 in entering upon marriage1 a woman has a right to assume in her husband the same purity of antecedent conduct which he demands of her4 ,that is an arguable question1 and it has been argued often enough2 but in this play it does not really arise1 for the husband presented to us is no ordinary loose-liver1 but 7it would seem--for the case is not clearly stated7 a particularly base and heartless seducer1 whom it is evidently a misfortune for any woman to have married4 ,the authors of these two plays have committed an identical error of logic3 namely1 that of suggesting a broad issue1 and then stating such a set of circumstances that the issue does not really arise4 ,in other words1 they have from the outset begged the question4 ,the plays1 it may be said1 were both successful in their day4 ,yes2 but had they been logical their day might have lasted a century4 ,a somewhat similar defect of logic constitutes a fatal blemish in ,the ,ideal ,husband1 by ,oscar ,wilde4 ,intentionally or otherwise1 the question suggested is whether a single flaw of conduct 7the betrayal to financiers of a state secret7 ought to blast a political career4 ,here1 again1 is an arguable point1 on the assumption that the statesman is penitent and determined never to repeat his misdeed2 but when we find that this particular statesman is prepared to go on betraying his country indefinitely1 in order to save his own skin1 the question falls to the ground--the answer is too obvious4 ,it happened some years ago that two plays satirizing yellow journalism were produced almost simultaneously in ,london--,the ,earth by ,mr4 ,james ,b4 ,fagan1 and ,what the ,public ,wants by ,mr4 ,arnold ,bennett4 ,in point of intellectual grasp1 or power of characterization1 there could be no comparison between the two writers2 yet ,i hold that1 from the point of view of dramatic composition1 ,the ,earth was the better play of the two1 simply because it dealt logically with the theme announced1 instead of wandering away into all sorts of irrelevances4 ,mr4 ,bennett1 to begin with1 could not resist making his ,napoleon of the ,press a native of the ,five ,towns1 and exhibiting him at large in provincial middle-class surroundings4 ,all this is sheer irrelevance2 for the type of journalism in question is not characteristically an outcome of any phase of provincial life4 ,mr4 ,bennett may allege that ,sir ,charles ,worgan had to be born somewhere1 and might as well be born in ,bursley as anywhere else4 ,i reply that1 for the purposes of the play1 he need not have been born anywhere4 ,his birthplace and the surroundings of his boyhood have nothing to do with what may be called his journalistic psychology1 which is1 or ought to be1 the theme of the play4 ,then1 again1 ,mr4 ,bennett shows him dabbling in theatrical management and falling in love--irrelevances both4 ,as a manager1 no doubt1 he insists on doing what the public wants 7it is nothing worse than a revival of ,the ,merchant of ,venice7 and thus offers another illustration of the results of obeying that principle4 ,but all this is beside the real issue4 ,the true gravamen of the charge against a ,napoleon of the ,press is not that he gives the public what it wants1 but that he can make the public want what he wants1 think what he thinks1 believe what he wants them to believe1 and do what he wants them to do4 ,by dint of assertion1 innuendo1 and iteration in a hundred papers1 he can create an apparent public opinion1 or public emotion1 which may be directed towards the most dangerous ends4 ,this point ,mr4 ,bennett entirely missed4 ,what he gave us was in reality a comedy of middle-class life with a number of incidental allusions to yellow journalism and kindred topics4 ,mr4 ,fagan1 working in broader outlines1 and1 it must be owned1 in cruder colours1 never strayed from the logical line of development1 and took us much nearer the heart of his subject4 ,a somewhat different1 and very common1 fault of logic was exemplified in ,mr4 ,clyde ,fitch's last play1 ,the ,city4 ,his theme1 as announced in his title and indicated in his exposition1 was the influence of ,new ,york upon a family which migrates thither from a provincial town4 ,but the action is not really shaped by the influence of the city4 ,it might have taken practically the same course if the family had remained at home4 ,the author had failed to establish a logical connection between his theme and the incidents supposed to illustrate it4#a ,fantastic plays1 which assume an order of things more or less exempt from the limitations of physical reality1 ought1 nevertheless1 to be logically faithful to their own assumptions4 ,some fantasies1 indeed1 which sinned against this principle1 have had no small success4 ,in ,pygmalion and ,galatea1 for example1 there is a conspicuous lack of logic4 ,the following passage from a criticism of thirty years ago puts my point so clearly that ,i am tempted to copy it3 ,as we have no scientific record of a statue coming to life1 the probable moral and intellectual condition of a being so created is left to the widest conjecture4 ,the playwright may assume for it any stage of development he pleases1 and his audience will readily grant his assumption4 ,but if his work is to have any claim to artistic value1 he must not assume all sorts of different stages of development at every second word his creation utters4 ,he must not make her a child in one speech1 a woman of the world in the next1 and an idiot in the next again4 ,of course1 it would be an extremely difficult task clearly to define in all its bearings and details the particular intellectual condition assumed at the outset1 and then gradually to indicate the natural growth of a fuller consciousness4 ,difficult it would be1 but by no means impossible2 nay1 it would be this very problem which would tempt the true dramatist to adopt such a theme4 ,mr4 ,gilbert has not essayed the task4 ,he regulates ,galatea's state of consciousness by the fluctuating exigencies of dialogue whose humour is levelled straight at the heads of the old ,haymarket pit4 ,to indicate the nature of the inconsistencies which abound in every scene1 ,i may say that1 in the first act1 ,galatea does not know that she is a woman1 but understands the word beauty1 knows 7though ,pygmalion is the only living creature she has ever seen7 the meaning of agreement and difference of taste1 and is alive to the distinction between an original and a copy4 ,in the second act she has got the length of knowing the enormity of taking life1 and appreciating the fine distinction between taking it of one's own motive1 and taking it for money4 ,yet the next moment1 when ,leucippe enters with a fawn he has killed1 it appears that she does not realize the difference between man and the brute creation4 ,thus we are for ever shifting from one plane of convention to another4 ,there is no fixed starting-point for our imagination1 no logical development of a clearly-stated initial condition4 ,the play1 it is true1 enjoyed some five-and-twenty years of life2 but it certainly cannot claim an enduring place either in literature or on the stage4 ,it is still open to the philosophic dramatist to write a logical ,pygmalion and ,galatea4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,i am here writing from memory1 having been unable to obtain a copy of ,the ,city2 but my memory is pretty clear4 ,,chapter ,,xvii ,,keeping ,a ,,secret ,it has been often and authoritatively laid down that a dramatist must on no account keep a secret from his audience4 ,like most authoritative maxims1 this one seems to require a good deal of qualification4 ,let us look into the matter a little more closely4 ,so far as ,i can see1 the strongest reason against keeping a secret is that1 try as you may1 you cannot do it4 ,this point has already been discussed in ,chapter ,,ix1 where we saw that from only one audience can a secret be really hidden1 a considerable percentage of any subsequent audience being certain to know all about it in advance4 ,the more striking and successful is the first-night effect of surprise1 the more certainly and rapidly will the report of it circulate through all strata of the theatrical public4 ,but for this fact1 one could quite well conceive a fascinating melodrama constructed1 like a detective story1 with a view to keeping the audience in the dark as long as possible4 ,a pistol shot might ring out just before the rise of the curtain3 a man 7or woman7 might be discovered in an otherwise empty room1 weltering in his 7or her7 gore3 and the remainder of the play might consist in the tracking down of the murderer1 who would1 of course1 prove to be the very last person to be suspected4 ,such a play might make a great first-night success2 but the more the author relied upon the mystery for his effect1 the more fatally would that effect be discounted at each successive repetition4 ,one author of distinction1 ,m4 ,hervieu1 has actually made the experiment of presenting an enigma--he calls the play ,l',enigme--and reserving the solution to the very end4 ,we know from the outset that one of two sisters-in-law is unfaithful to her husband1 and the question is--which8 ,the whole ingenuity of the author is centred on keeping the secret1 and the spectator who does not know it in advance is all the time in the attitude of a detective questing for clues4 ,he is challenged to guess which of the ladies is the frail one2 and he is far too intent on this game to think or care about the emotional process of the play4 ,i myself 7,i remember7 guessed right1 mainly because the name ,giselle seemed to me more suggestive of flightiness than the staid and sober ,leonore1 wherefore ,i suspected that ,m4 ,hervieu1 in order to throw dust in our eyes1 had given it to the virtuous lady4 ,but whether we guess right or wrong1 this clue-hunting is an intellectual sport1 not an artistic enjoyment4 ,if there is any aesthetic quality in the play1 it can only come home to us when we know the secret4 ,and the same dilemma will present itself to any playwright who seeks to imitate ,m4 ,hervieu4 ,the actual keeping of a secret1 then--the appeal to the primary curiosity of actual ignorance--may be ruled out as practically impossible1 and1 when possible1 unworthy of serious art4 ,but there is also1 as we have seen1 the secondary curiosity of the audience which1 though more or less cognizant of the essential facts1 instinctively assumes ignorance1 and judges the development of a play from that point of view4 ,we all realize that a dramatist has no right to trust to our previous knowledge1 acquired from outside sources4 ,we know that a play1 like every other work of art1 ought to be self-sufficient1 and even if1 at any given moment1 we have1 as a matter of fact1 knowledge which supplements what the playwright has told us1 we feel that he ought not to have taken for granted our possession of any such external and fortuitous information4 ,to put it briefly1 the dramatist must formally assume ignorance in his audience1 though he must not practically rely upon it4 ,therefore it becomes a point of real importance to determine how long a secret may be kept from an audience1 assumed to have no outside knowledge1 and at what point it ought to be revealed4 ,when ,lady ,windermere's ,fan was first produced1 no hint was given in the first act of the fact that ,mrs4 ,erlynne was ,lady ,windermere's mother2 so that ,lord ,windermere's insistence on inviting her to his wife's birthday reception remained wholly unexplained4 ,but after a few nights the author made ,lord ,windermere exclaim1 just as the curtain fell1 ,my ,god6 ,what shall ,i do8 ,i dare not tell her who this woman really is4 ,the shame would kill her4 ,it was1 of course1 said that this change had been made in deference to newspaper criticism2 and ,oscar ,wilde1 in a characteristic letter to the ,st4 ,james's ,gazette1 promptly repelled this calumny4 ,at a first-night supper-party1 he said-- ,all of my friends without exception were of the opinion that the psychological interest of the second act would be greatly increased by the disclosure of the actual relationship existing between ,lady ,windermere and ,mrs4 ,erlynne--an opinion1 ,i may add1 that had previously been strongly held and urged by ,mr4 ,alexander4444 ,i determined1 consequently1 to make a change in the precise moment of revelation4 ,it is impossible to say whether ,wilde seriously believed that psychology entered into the matter at all1 or whether he was laughing in his sleeve in putting forward this solemn plea4 ,the truth is1 ,i think1 that this example cannot be cited either for or against the keeping of a secret1 the essential fact being that the secret was such a bad and inacceptable one--inacceptable1 ,i mean1 as an explanation of ,lord ,windermere's conduct--that it was probably wise to make a clean breast of it as soon as possible1 and get it over4 ,it may be said with perfect confidence that it is useless to keep a secret which1 when revealed1 is certain to disappoint the audience1 and to make it feel that it has been trifled with4 ,that is an elementary dictate of prudence4 ,but if the reason for ,lord ,windermere's conduct had been adequate1 ingenious1 such as to give us1 when revealed1 a little shock of pleasant surprise1 the author need certainly have been in no hurry to disclose it4 ,it is not improbable 7though my memory is not clear on the point7 that part of the strong interest we undoubtedly felt on the first night arose from the hope that ,lord ,windermere's seemingly unaccountable conduct might be satisfactorily accounted for4 ,as this hope was futile1 there was no reason1 at subsequent performances1 to keep up the pretence of preserving a secret which was probably known1 as a matter of fact1 to most of the audience1 and which was worthless when revealed4 ,in the second act of ,the ,devil's ,disciple1 by ,mr4 ,bernard ,shaw1 we have an instance of wholly inartistic secrecy1 which would certainly be condemned in the work of any author who was not accepted in advance as a law unto himself4 ,richard ,dudgeon has been arrested by the ,british soldiers1 who mistake him for the ,reverend ,anthony ,anderson4 ,when ,anderson comes home1 it takes a very long time for his silly wife1 ,judith1 to acquaint him with a situation that might have been explained in three words2 and when1 at last1 he does understand it1 he calls for a horse and his boots1 and rushes off in mad haste1 as though his one desire were to escape from the ,british and leave ,dudgeon to his fate4 ,in reality his purpose is to bring up a body of ,continental troops to the rescue of ,dudgeon2 and this also he might 7and certainly would7 have conveyed in three words4 ,but ,mr4 ,shaw was so bent on letting ,judith continue to conduct herself idiotically1 that he made her sensible husband act no less idiotically1 in order to throw dust in her eyes1 and 7incidentally7 in the eyes of the audience4 ,in the work of any other man1 we should call this not only an injudicious1 but a purposeless and foolish1 keeping of a secret4 ,mr4 ,shaw may say that in order to develop the character of ,judith as he had conceived it1 he was forced to make her misunderstand her husband's motives4 ,a development of character obtained by such artificial means cannot be of much worth2 but even granting this plea1 one cannot but point out that it would have been easy to keep ,judith in the dark as to ,anderson's purpose1 without keeping the audience also in the dark1 and making him behave like a fool4 ,all that was required was to get ,judith off the stage for a few moments1 just before the true state of matters burst upon ,anthony4 ,it would then have been perfectly natural and probable that1 not foreseeing her misunderstanding1 he should hurry off without waiting to explain matters to her4 ,but that he should deliberately leave her in her delusion1 and even use phrases carefully calculated to deceive both her and the audience1#a would be1 in a writer who professed to place reason above caprice1 a rather gross fault of art4 ,mr4 ,henry ,arthur ,jones's light comedy1 ,whitewashing ,julia1 proves that it is possible1 without incurring disaster1 to keep a secret throughout a play1 and never reveal it at all4 ,more accurately1 what ,mr4 ,jones does is to pretend that there is some explanation of ,mrs4 ,julia ,wren's relations with the ,duke of ,savona1 other than the simple explanation that she was his mistress1 and to keep us waiting for this whitewashing disclosure1 when in fact he has nothing of the sort up his sleeve1 and the plain truth is precisely what the gossips of ,shanctonbury surmise4 ,julia does not even explain or justify her conduct from her own point of view4 ,she gives out that an explanation will be forthcoming at the right moment2 but the right moment never arrives4 ,all we are told is that she1 ,julia1 considers that there was never anything degrading in her conduct2 and this we are asked to accept as sufficient4 ,it was a daring policy to dangle before our eyes an explanation1 which always receded as we advanced towards it1 and proved in the end to be wholly unexplanatory4 ,the success of the play1 however1 was sufficient to show that1 in light comedy1 at any rate1 a secret may with impunity be kept1 even to the point of tantalization4#b ,let us now look at a couple of cases in which the keeping of a secret seems pretty clearly wrong1 inasmuch as it diminishes tension1 and deprives the audience of that superior knowledge in which lies the irony of drama4 ,in a play named ,her ,advocate1 by ,mr4 ,walter ,frith 7founded on one of ,grenville ,murray's ,french ,pictures in ,english ,chalk71 a ,k4,c4 has fallen madly in love with a woman whose defence he has undertaken4 ,he believes passionately in her innocence1 and1 never doubting that she loves him in return1 he is determined to secure for her a triumphant acquittal4 ,just at the crucial moment1 however1 he learns that she loves another man2 and1 overwhelmed by this disillusion1 he has still to face the ordeal and plead her cause4 ,the conjuncture would be still more dramatic if the revelation of this love were to put a different complexion on the murder1 and1 by introducing a new motive1 shake the advocate's faith in his client's innocence4 ,but that is another matter2 the question here to be considered is whether the author did right in reserving the revelation to the last possible moment4 ,in my opinion he would have done better to have given us an earlier inkling of the true state of affairs4 ,to keep the secret1 in this case1 was to place the audience as well as the advocate on a false trail1 and to deprive it of the sense of superiority it would have felt in seeing him marching confidently towards a happiness which it knew to be illusory4 ,the second case is that of ,la ,douloureuse1 by ,m4 ,maurice ,donnay4 ,through two acts out of the four an important secret is so carefully kept that there seems to be no obstacle between the lovers with whom 7from the author's point of view7 we are supposed to sympathize4 ,the first act is devoted to an elaborate painting of a somewhat revolting phase of parvenu society in ,paris4 ,towards the end of the act we learn that the sculptor1 ,philippe ,lauberthie1 is the lover of ,hlne ,ardan1 a married woman2 and at the very end her husband1 ,ardan1 commits suicide4 ,this act1 therefore1 is devoted1 not1 as the orthodox formula goes1 to raising an obstacle between the lovers1 but rather to destroying one4 ,in the second act there still seems to be no obstacle of any sort4 ,hlne's year of widowhood is nearly over2 she and ,philippe are presently to be married2 all is harmony1 adoration1 and security4 ,in the last scene of the act1 a cloud no bigger than a man's hand appears on the horizon4 ,we find that ,gotte des ,trembles1 ,hlne's bosom friend1 is also in love with ,philippe1 and is determined to let him know it4 ,but ,philippe resists her blandishments with melancholy austerity1 and when the curtain falls on the second act1 things seem to be perfectly safe and in order4 ,hlne a widow1 and ,philippe austere--what harm can ,gotte possibly do8 ,the fact is1 ,m4 ,donnay is carefully keeping a secret from us4 ,philippe is not ,hlne's first lover2 her son1 ,georges1 is not the child of her late husband2 and ,gotte1 and ,gotte alone1 knows the truth4 ,had we also been initiated from the outset 7and nothing would have been easier or more natural--three words exchanged between ,gotte and ,hlne would have done it7 we should have been at no loss to foresee the impending drama1 and the sense of irony would have tripled the interest of the intervening scenes4 ,the effect of ,m4 ,donnay's third act is not a whit more forcible because it comes upon us unprepared4 ,we learn at the beginning that ,philippe's austerity has not after all been proof against ,gotte's seductions2 but it has now returned upon him embittered by remorse1 and he treats ,gotte with sternness approaching to contumely4 ,she takes her revenge by revealing ,hlne's secret2 he tells ,hlne that he knows it2 and she1 putting two and two together1 divines how it has come to his knowledge4 ,this long scene of mutual reproach and remorseful misery is1 in reality1 the whole drama1 and might have been cited in ,chapter ,,xiv as a fine example of a peripety4 ,hlne enters ,philippe's studio happy and serene1 she leaves it broken-hearted2 but the effect of the scene is not a whit greater because1 in the two previous acts1 we have been studiously deprived of the information that would have led us vaguely to anticipate it4 ,to sum up this question of secrecy3 the current maxim1 ,never keep a secret from your audience1 would appear to be an over-simplification of a somewhat difficult question of craftsmanship4 ,we may agree that it is often dangerous and sometimes manifestly foolish to keep a secret2 but1 on the other hand1 there is certainly no reason why the playwright should blurt out all his secrets at the first possible opportunity4 ,the true art lies in knowing just how long to keep silent1 and just the right time to speak4 ,in the first act of ,letty1 ,sir ,arthur ,pinero gains a memorable effect by keeping a secret1 not very long1 indeed1 but long enough and carefully enough to show that he knew very clearly what he was doing4 ,we are introduced to ,nevill ,letchmere's bachelor apartments4 ,animated scenes occur between ,letchmere and his brother-in-law1 ,letchmere and his sister1 ,letchmere and ,letty1 ,marion and ,hilda ,gunning4 ,it is evident that ,letty dreams of marriage with ,letchmere2 and for aught that we see or hear1 there is no just cause or impediment to the contrary4 ,it is only1 at the end of the very admirable scene between ,letchmere and ,mandeville that the following little passage occurs3 ,,mandeville3 444 ,at all events ,i am qualified to tell her ,i'm fairly gone on her--honourably gone on her--if ,i choose to do it4 ,,letchmere3 ,qualified8 ,,mandeville3 ,which is more than you are1 ,mr4 ,letchmere4 ,i am a single man2 you ain't1 bear in mind4 ,,letchmere3 7imperturbably73 ,very true4 ,this one little touch is a masterpiece of craftsmanship4 ,it would have been the most natural thing in the world for either the sister or the brother-in-law1 concerned about their own matrimonial difficulties1 to let fall some passing allusion to ,letchmere's separation from his wife2 but the author carefully avoided this1 carefully allowed us to make our first acquaintance with ,letty in ignorance of the irony of her position1 and then allowed the truth to slip out just in time to let us feel the whole force of that irony during the last scene of the act and the greater part of the second act4 ,a finer instance of the delicate grading of tension it would be difficult to cite4 ,one thing is certain2 namely1 that if a secret is to be kept at all1 it must be worth the keeping2 if a riddle is propounded1 its answer must be pleasing and ingenious1 or the audience will resent having been led to cudgel its brains for nothing4 ,this is simply a part of the larger principle1 before insisted on1 that when a reasonable expectation is aroused1 it can be baffled only at the author's peril4 ,if the crux of a scene or of a whole play lie in the solution of some material difficulty or moral problem1 it must on no account be solved by a mere trick or evasion4 ,the dramatist is very ill-advised who sets forth with pomp and circumstance to perform some intellectual or technical feat1 and then merely skirts round it or runs away from it4 ,a fair proportion should always be observed between effort and effect1 between promise and performance4 ,but if the audience happens to misread the playwright's design1 and form exaggerated and irrational expectations8 ,that merely means that the playwright does not know his business1 or1 at any rate1 does not know his audience4 ,it is his business to play upon the collective mind of his audience as upon a keyboard--to arouse just the right order and measure of anticipation1 and fulfil it1 or outdo it1 in just the right way at just the right time4 ,the skill of the dramatist1 as distinct from his genius or inspiration1 lies in the correctness of his insight into the mind of his audience4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,for instance3 ,if you can get a word with him by pretending that you are his wife1 tell him to hold his tongue until morning2 that will give me all the start ,i need4 ,footnote #b3 ,in ,the ,idyll1 by ,herr ,egge1 of which some account is given in ,chapter ,x1 the author certainly does right in not allowing the audience for a moment to share the hero's doubts as to the heroine's past4 ,it would have been very easy for him to have kept the secret2 but he takes the earliest opportunity of assuring us that her relations with ,ringve were quite innocent4 ,,book ,,iv ,,the ,,end ,,chapter ,,xviii ,,climax ,,and ,,anticlimax ,if it were as easy to write a good last act as a good first act1 we should be able to reckon three masterpieces for every one that we can name at present4 ,the reason why the last act should offer special difficulties is not far to seek4 ,we have agreed to regard a play as essentially a crisis in the lives of one or more persons2 and we all know that crises are much more apt to have a definite beginning than a definite end4 ,we can almost always put our finger upon the moment--not1 indeed1 when the crisis began--but when we clearly realized its presence or its imminence4 ,a chance meeting1 the receipt of a letter or a telegram1 a particular turn given to a certain conversation1 even the mere emergence into consciousness of a previously latent feeling or thought1 may mark quite definitely the moment of germination1 so to speak1 of a given crisis2 and it is comparatively easy to dramatize such a moment4 ,but how few crises come to a definite or dramatic conclusion6 ,nine times out of ten they end in some petty compromise1 or do not end at all1 but simply subside1 like the waves of the sea when the storm has blown itself out4 ,it is the playwright's chief difficulty to find a crisis with an ending which satisfies at once his artistic conscience and the requirements of dramatic effect4 ,and the difficulty becomes greater the nearer we approach to reality4 ,in the days when tragedy and comedy were cast in fixed1 conventional moulds1 the playwright's task was much simpler4 ,it was thoroughly understood that a tragedy ended with one or more deaths1 a comedy with one or more marriages2 so that the question of a strong or a weak ending did not arise4 ,the end might be strongly or weakly led up to1 but1 in itself1 it was fore-ordained4 ,now that these moulds are broken1 and both marriage and death may be said to have lost their prestige as the be-all and end-all of drama1 the playwright's range of choice is unlimited1 and the difficulty of choosing has become infinitely greater4 ,our comedies are much more apt to begin than to end with marriage1 and death has come to be regarded as a rather cheap and conventional expedient for cutting the knots of life4 ,from the fact that the difficulty becomes greater the nearer we approach to reality1 it further follows that the higher the form of drama1 the more probable is it that the demands of truth and the requirements of dramatic effect may be found to clash4 ,in melodrama1 the curtain falls of its own accord1 so to speak1 when the handcuffs are transferred from the hero's wrists to the villain's4 ,in an adventure-play1 whether farcical or romantic1 when the adventure is over the play is done4 ,the author's task is merely to keep the interest of the adventure afoot until he is ready to drop his curtain4 ,this is a point of craftsmanship in which playwrights often fail2 but it is a point of craftsmanship only4 ,in plays of a higher order1 on the other hand1 the difficulty is often inherent in the theme1 and not to be overcome by any feat of craftsmanship4 ,if the dramatist were to eschew all crises that could not be made to resolve themselves with specifically dramatic crispness and decisiveness1 he would very seriously limit the domain of his art4 ,many excellent themes would be distorted and ruined by having an emphatic ending forced upon them4 ,it is surely much better that they should be brought to their natural unemphatic ending1 than that they should be either falsified or ignored4 ,i suggest1 then1 that the modern tendency to take lightly ,aristotle's demand that the drama should have a beginning1 a middle1 and an end1 arises from the nature of things1 and implies1 not necessarily1 nor even probably1 a decline in craftsmanship1 but a new intimacy of relation to life1 and a new sincerity of artistic conscience4 ,i suggest that the weak last act1 of which critics so often complain1 is a natural development from which authors ought not1 on occasion1 to shrink1 and of which critics ought1 on occasion1 to recognize the necessity4 ,to elevate it into a system is absurd4 ,there is certainly no more reason for deliberately avoiding an emphatic ending than for mechanically forcing one4 ,but authors and critics alike should learn to distinguish the themes which do1 from the themes which do not1 call for a definite1 trenchant solution1 and should handle them1 and judge them1 in accordance with their inherent quality4 ,let us1 however1 define our terms1 and be sure that we know what we are talking about4 ,by an unemphatic ending ,i am far from meaning a makeshift ending1 an ending carelessly and conventionally huddled up4 ,nor do ,i mean an indecisive ending1 where the curtain falls1 as the saying goes1 on a note of interrogation4 ,an unemphatic ending1 as ,i understand it1 is a deliberate anticlimax1 an idyllic1 or elegiac1 or philosophic last act1 following upon a penultimate act of very much higher tension4 ,the disposition to condemn such an ending off-hand is what ,i am here pleading against4 ,it is sometimes assumed that the playwright ought always to make his action conclude within five minutes of its culmination2 but for such a hard-and-fast rule ,i can find no sufficient reason4 ,the consequences of a great emotional or spiritual crisis cannot always be worked out1 or even foreshadowed1 within so brief a space of time4 ,if1 after such a crisis1 we are unwilling to keep our seats for another half-hour1 in order to learn what came of it all1 the author has evidently failed to awaken in us any real interest in his characters4 ,a good instance of the unemphatic ending is the last act of ,sir ,arthur ,pinero's ,letty4 ,this epilogue--so the author calls it--has been denounced as a concession to popular sentimentality1 and an unpardonable anticlimax4 ,an anticlimax it is1 beyond all doubt2 but it does not follow that it is an artistic blemish4 ,nothing would have been easier than not to write it--to make the play end with ,letty's awakening from her dream1 and her flight from ,letchmere's rooms4 ,but the author has set forth1 not merely to interest us in an adventure1 but to draw a character2 and it was essential to our full appreciation of ,letty's character that we should know what1 after all1 she made of her life4 ,when ,iris1 most hapless of women1 went out into the dark1 there was nothing more that we needed to know of her4 ,we could guess the sequel only too easily4 ,but the case of ,letty was wholly different4 ,her exit was an act of will1 triumphing over a form of temptation peculiarly alluring to her temperament4 ,there was in her character precisely that grit which ,iris lacked2 and we wanted to know what it would do for her4 ,this was not a case for an indecisive ending1 a note of interrogation4 ,the author felt no doubt as to ,letty's destiny1 and he wanted to leave his audience in no doubt4 ,from ,iris's fate we were only too willing to avert our eyes2 but it would have been a sensible discomfort to us to be left in the dark about ,letty's4 ,this1 then1 ,i regard as a typical instance of justified anticlimax4 ,another is the idyllic last act of ,the ,princess and the ,butterfly1 in which1 moreover1 despite its comparatively subdued tone1 the tension is maintained to the end4 ,a very different matter is the third act of ,the ,benefit of the ,doubt1 already alluded to4 ,this is a pronounced case of the makeshift ending1 inspired 7to all appearance7 simply by the fact that the play must end somehow1 and that no better idea happens to present itself4 ,admirable as are the other acts1 one is almost inclined to agree with ,dumas that an author ought not to embark upon a theme unless he foresees a better way out of it than this4 ,it should be noted1 too1 that ,the ,benefit of the ,doubt is a three-act play1 and that1 in a play laid out on this scale1 a whole act of anticlimax is necessarily disproportionate4 ,it is one thing to relax the tension in the last act out of four or five2 quite another thing in the last act out of three4 ,in other words1 the culminating point of a four-or five-act play may be placed in the penultimate act2 in a three-act play1 it should come1 at earliest1 in the penultimate scene4#a ,in the works of ,mr4 ,henry ,arthur ,jones we find several instances of the unemphatic last act--some clearly justified1 others much less so4 ,among the former ,i unhesitatingly reckon the fourth act of ,mrs4 ,dane's ,defence4 ,it would not have been difficult1 but surely most inartistic1 to huddle up the action in five minutes after ,mrs4 ,dane's tragic collapse under ,sir ,daniel ,carteret's cross-examination4 ,she might have taken poison and died in picturesque contortions on the sofa2 or ,lionel might have defied all counsels of prudence and gone off with her in spite of her past2 or she might have placed ,lionel's hand in ,janet's1 saying3 ,the game is up4 ,bless you1 my children4 ,i am going into the nearest nunnery4 ,as a matter of fact1 ,mr4 ,jones brought his action to its natural close in a quiet1 sufficiently adroit1 last act2 and ,i do not see that criticism has any just complaint to make4 ,in recent ,french drama1 ,la ,douloureuse1 already cited1 affords an excellent instance of a quiet last act4 ,after the violent and heartrending rupture between the lovers in the third act1 we feel that1 though this paroxysm of pain is justified by the circumstances1 it will not last for ever1 and ,philippe and ,hlne will come together again4 ,this is also ,m4 ,donnay's view2 and he devotes his whole last act1 quite simply1 to a duologue of reconciliation4 ,it seems to me a fault of proportion1 however1 that he should shift his locality from ,paris to the ,riviera1 and should place the brief duologue in a romantic woodland scene4 ,an act of anticlimax should be treated1 so to speak1 as unpretentiously as possible4 ,to invent an elaborate apparatus for it is to emphasize the anticlimax by throwing it into unnecessary relief4 ,this may be a convenient place for a few words on the modern fashion of eschewing emphasis1 not only in last acts1 but at every point where the old ,french dramaturgy demanded it1 and especially in act-endings4 ,punch has a pleasant allusion to this tendency in two suggested examination-papers for an ,academy of ,dramatists3 ,a--,,for ,,the ,,classical ,,side ,,only4 #a4 ,what is a curtain2 and how should it be led up to8 ,b--,,for ,,the ,,modern ,,side ,,only4 #a4 ,what is a curtain2 and how can it be avoided8 ,some modern playwrights have fled in a sort of panic from the old picture-poster situation to the other extreme of always dropping their curtain when the audience least expects it4 ,this is not a practice to be commended4 ,one has often seen an audience quite unnecessarily chilled by a disconcerting curtain4 ,there should be moderation even in the shrinking from theatricality4 ,this shrinking is particularly marked1 though ,i do not say it is carried too far1 in the plays of ,mr4 ,galsworthy4 ,even the most innocent tricks of emphasis are to him snares of the ,evil ,one4 ,he would sooner die than drop his curtain on a particularly effective line4 ,it is his chief ambition that you should never discern any arrangement1 any intention1 in his work4 ,as a rule1 the only reason you can see for his doing thus or thus is his desire that you should see no reason for it4 ,he does not carry this tendency1 as some do1 to the point of eccentricity2 but he certainly goes as far as any one should be advised to follow4 ,a little further1 and you incur the danger of becoming affectedly unaffected1 artificially inartificial4 ,i am far from pleading for the conventional tableau at the end of each act1 with all the characters petrified1 as it were1 in penny-plain-twopence-coloured attitudes4 ,but it is certainly desirable that the fall of the curtain should not take an audience entirely by surprise1 and even that the spectator should feel the moment to be rightly chosen1 though he might be unable to give any reason for his feeling4 ,moreover--this may seem a super-subtlety1 but one has seen it neglected with notably bad effect--a playwright should never let his audience expect the fall of a curtain at a given point1 and then balk their expectancy1 unless he is sure that he holds in reserve a more than adequate compensation4 ,there is nothing so dangerous as to let a play1 or an act1 drag on when the audience feels in its heart that it is really over1 and that the rest is silence--or ought to be4 ,the end of ,mr4 ,granville ,barker's fine play1 ,the ,voysey ,inheritance1 was injured by the fact that1 several minutes before the curtain actually fell1 he had given what seemed an obvious cue for curtain4 ,i do not say that what followed was superfluous2 what ,i do say is that the author ought to have been careful not to let us imagine that the colloquy between ,edward and ,alice was over when in fact it had still some minutes to run4 ,an even more remarkable play1 ,the ,madras ,house1 was ruined1 on its first night1 by a long final anticlimax4 ,here1 however1 the fault did not lie in awakening a premature expectation of the close1 but in the fact that we somehow were more interested in the other characters of the play than in the pair who held the stage throughout the long concluding scene4 ,once more ,i turn to ,la ,douloureuse for an instance of an admirable act-ending of the quiet modern type4 ,the third act--the terrible peripety in the love of ,philippe and ,hlne--has run its agonizing course1 and worked itself out4 ,the old dramaturgy would certainly have ended the scene with a bang1 so to speak--a swoon or a scream1 a tableau of desolation1 or1 at the very least1 a piece of tearful rhetoric4 ,m4 ,donnay does nothing of the sort4 ,he lets his lovers unpack their hearts with words until they are exhausted1 broken1 dazed with misery1 and have nothing more to say4 ,then ,hlne asks3 ,what o'clock is it8 ,philippe looks at his watch3 ,nearly seven4 ,i must be going--and she dries her eyes1 smoothes her hair1 pulls herself together1 in a word1 to face the world again4 ,the mechanical round of life re-asserts its hold upon them4 ,help me with my cloak1 she says2 and he holds her mantle for her1 and tucks in the puffed sleeves of her blouse4 ,then he takes up the lamp and lights her out--and the curtain falls4 ,a model curtain6 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,the fact that a great poet can ignore such precepts with impunity is proved by the exquisite anticlimax of the third act of ,d',annunzio's ,la ,gioconda4 ,,chapter ,,xix ,,conversion ,the reader may have noticed1 possibly with surprise1 that some of the stock terms of dramatic criticism occur but rarely in these pages1 or not at all4 ,one of them is dnouement4 ,according to orthodox theory1 ,i ought to have made the dnouement the subject of a whole chapter1 if not of a whole book4 ,why have ,i not done so8 ,for two reasons4 ,the lesser1 but not negligible1 reason is that we possess no convenient ,english word for the unknotting or disentangling of a complication4 ,dnouement itself cannot be plausibly ,anglicized1 and no native word has as yet1 by common consent1 been accepted as its equivalent4 ,i sometimes wish we could adopt1 and print without italics1 the excellent and expressive ,greek word lusis2 but ,i cannot1 on my own responsibility1 attempt so daring an innovation4 ,the second and determining reason for not making the dnouement one of the heads of my argument1 is that1 the play of intrigue being no longer the dominant dramatic form1 the image of disentangling has lost some of its special fitness4 ,it is only in a somewhat strained and conventional sense that the term nodus1 or knot1 can be applied to the sort of crisis with which the modern drama normally deals2 and if we do not naturally think of the crisis as a knot1 we naturally do not think of its close as an unknotting4 ,nevertheless1 there are frequent cases in which the end of a play depends on something very like the unravelling of a tangled skein2 and still more often1 perhaps1 is it brought about through the loosening of some knot in the mind of one or more of the characters4 ,this was the characteristic end of the old comedy4 ,the heavy father1 or cantankerous guardian1 who for four acts and a half had stood between the lovers1 suddenly changed his mind1 and all was well4 ,even by our ancestors this was reckoned a rather too simple method of disentanglement4 ,lisideius1 in ,dryden's dialogue1#a in enumerating the points in which the ,french drama is superior to the ,english notes that-- ,you never see any of their plays end with a conversion1 or simple change of will1 which is the ordinary way which our poets use to end theirs4 ,it shew little art in the conclusion of a dramatick poem1 when they who have hindered the felicity during the four acts1 desist from it in the fifth1 without some powerful cause to take them off their design4 ,the remark of ,lisideius is suggested by a passage in ,corneille1 who instances1 as an apt and artistic method of bringing about the conversion of a heavy father1 that his daughter's lover should earn his gratitude by rescuing him from assassination6 ,conversions1 closely examined1 will be found to fall into two classes3 changes in volition1 and changes in sentiment4 ,it was the former class that ,dryden had in mind2 and1 with reference to this class1 the principle he indicates remains a sound one4 ,a change of resolve should never be due to a mere lapse of time--to the necessity for bringing the curtain down and letting the audience go home4 ,it must always be rendered plausible by some new fact or new motive3 some hitherto untried appeal to reason or emotion4 ,this rule1 however1 is too obvious to require enforcement4 ,it was not quite superfluous so long as the old convention of comedy endured4 ,for a century and a half after ,dryden's time1 hard-hearted parents were apt to withdraw their opposition to their children's felicity for no better reason than that the fifth act was drawing to a close4 ,but this formula is practically obsolete4 ,changes of will1 on the modern stage1 are not always adequately motived2 but that is because of individual inexpertness1 not because of any failure to recognize theoretically the necessity for adequate motivation4 ,changes of sentiment are much more important and more difficult to handle4 ,a change of will can always manifest itself in action but it is very difficult to externalize convincingly a mere change of heart4 ,when the conclusion of a play hinges 7as it frequently does7 on a conversion of this nature1 it becomes a matter of the first moment that it should not merely be asserted1 but proved4 ,many a promising play has gone wrong because of the author's neglect1 or inability1 to comply with this condition4 ,it has often been observed that of all ,ibsen's thoroughly mature works1 from ,a ,doll's ,house to ,john ,gabriel ,borkman1 ,the ,lady from the ,sea is the loosest in texture1 the least masterly in construction4 ,the fact that it leaves this impression on the mind is largely due1 ,i think1 to a single fault4 ,the conclusion of the play--,ellida's clinging to ,wangel and rejection of the ,stranger--depends entirely on a change in ,wangel's mental attitude1 of which we have no proof whatever beyond his bare assertion4 ,ellida1 in her overwrought mood1 is evidently inclining to yield to the uncanny allurement of the ,stranger's claim upon her1 when ,wangel1 realizing that her sanity is threatened1 says3 ,,wangel3 ,it shall not come to that4 ,there is no other way of deliverance for you--at least ,i see none4 ,and therefore--therefore ,i--cancel our bargain on the spot4 ,now you can choose your own path1 in full--full freedom4 ,,ellida 7,gazes at him awhile1 as if speechless73 ,is this true--true--what you say8 ,do you mean it--from your inmost heart8 ,,wangel3 ,yes--from the inmost depths of my tortured heart1 ,i mean it4444 ,now your own true life can return to its--its right groove again4 ,for now you can choose in freedom2 and on your own responsibility1 ,ellida4 ,,ellida3 ,in freedom--and on my own responsibility8 ,responsibility8 ,this--this transforms everything4 --and she promptly gives the ,stranger his dismissal4 ,now this is inevitably felt to be a weak conclusion1 because it turns entirely on a condition of ,wangel's mind of which he gives no positive and convincing evidence4 ,nothing material is changed by his change of heart4 ,he could not in any case have restrained ,ellida by force2 or1 if the law gave him the abstract right to do so1 he certainly never had the slightest intention of exercising it4 ,psychologically1 indeed1 the incident is acceptable enough4 ,the saner part of ,ellida's will was always on ,wangel's side2 and a merely verbal undoing of the bargain with which she reproached herself might quite naturally suffice to turn the scale decisively in his favour4 ,but what may suffice for ,ellida is not enough for the audience4 ,too much is made to hang upon a verbally announced conversion4 ,the poet ought to have invented some material--or1 at the very least1 some impressively symbolic--proof of ,wangel's change of heart4 ,had he done so1 ,the ,lady from the ,sea would assuredly have taken a higher rank among his works4 ,let me further illustrate my point by comparing a very small thing with a very great4 ,the late ,captain ,marshall wrote a farcical romance named ,the ,duke of ,killiecrankie1 in which that nobleman1 having been again and again rejected by the ,lady ,henrietta ,addison1 kidnapped the obdurate fair one1 and imprisoned her in a crag-castle in the ,highlands4 ,having kept her for a week in deferential durance1 and shown her that he was not the inefficient nincompoop she had taken him for1 he threw open the prison gate1 and said to her3 ,go6 ,i set you free6 ,the moment she saw the gate unlocked1 and realized that she could indeed go when and where she pleased1 she also realized that she had not the least wish to go1 and flung herself into her captor's arms4 ,here we have ,ibsen's situation transposed into the key of fantasy1 and provided with the material guarantee of good faith which is lacking in ,the ,lady from the ,sea4 ,the ,duke's change of mind1 his will to set the ,lady ,henrietta free1 is visibly demonstrated by the actual opening of the prison gate1 so that we believe in it1 and believe that she believes in it4 ,the play was a trivial affair1 and is deservedly forgotten2 but the situation was effective because it obeyed the law that a change of will or of feeling1 occurring at a crucial point in a dramatic action1 must be certified by some external evidence1 on pain of leaving the audience unimpressed4 ,this is a more important matter than it may at first sight appear4 ,how to bring home to the audience a decisive change of heart is one of the ever-recurring problems of the playwright's craft4 ,in ,the ,lady from the ,sea1 ,ibsen failed to solve it3 in ,rosmersholm he solved it by heroic measures4 ,the whole catastrophe is determined by ,rosmer's inability to accept without proof ,rebecca's declaration that ,rosmersholm has ennobled her1 and that she is no longer the same woman whose relentless egoism drove ,beata into the mill-race4 ,rebecca herself puts it to him3 ,how can you believe me on my bare word after to-day8 ,there is only one proof she can give--that of going the way ,beata went4 ,she gives it3 and ,rosmer1 who cannot believe her if she lives1 and will not survive her if she dies1 goes with her to her end4 ,but the cases are not very frequent1 fortunately1 in which such drastic methods of proof are appropriate or possible4 ,the dramatist must1 as a rule1 attain his end by less violent means2 and often he fails to attain it at all4 ,a play by ,mr4 ,haddon ,chambers1 ,the ,awakening1 turned on a sudden conversion--the awakening1 in fact1 referred to in the title4 ,a professional lady-killer1 a noted ,don ,juan1 has been idly making love to a country maiden1 whose heart is full of innocent idealisms4 ,she discovers his true character1 or1 at any rate1 his reputation1 and is horror-stricken1 while practically at the same moment1 he awakens to the error of his ways1 and is seized with a passion for her as single minded and idealistic as hers for him4 ,but how are the heroine and the audience to be assured of the fact8 ,that is just the difficulty2 and the author takes no effectual measures to overcome it4 ,the heroine1 of course1 is ultimately convinced2 but the audience remains sceptical1 to the detriment of the desired effect4 ,sceptical1 perhaps1 is not quite the right word4 ,the state of mind of a fictitious character is not a subject for actual belief or disbelief4 ,we are bound to accept theoretically what the author tells us2 but in this case he has failed to make us intimately feel and know that it is true4#b ,in ,mr4 ,alfred ,sutro's play ,the ,builder of ,bridges1 ,dorothy ,faringay1 in her devotion to her forger brother1 has conceived the rather disgraceful scheme of making one of his official superiors fall in love with her1 in order to induce him to become practically an accomplice in her brother's crime4 ,she succeeds beyond her hopes4 ,edward ,thursfield does fall in love with her1 and1 at a great sacrifice1 replaces the money the brother has stolen4 ,but1 in a very powerful peripety-scene in the third act1 ,thursfield learns that ,dorothy has been deliberately beguiling him1 while in fact she was engaged to another man4 ,the truth is1 however1 that she has really come to love ,thursfield passionately1 and has broken her engagement with the other1 for whom she never truly cared4 ,so the author tells us1 and so we are willing enough to believe--if he can devise any adequate method of making ,thursfield believe it4 ,mr4 ,sutro's handling of the difficulty seems to me fairly1 but not conspicuously1 successful4 ,i cite the case as a typical instance of the problem1 apart from the merits or demerits of the solution4 ,it may be said that the difficulty of bringing home to us the reality of a revulsion of feeling1 or a radical change of mental attitude1 is only a particular case of the playwright's general problem of convincingly externalizing inward conditions and processes4 ,that is true3 but the special importance of a conversion which unties the knot and brings the curtain down seemed to render it worthy of special consideration4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,of ,dramatic ,poesy1 ed4 ,arnold1 #aijc1 p4 #ea4 ,footnote #b3 ,in ,mr4 ,somerset ,maugham's ,grace the heroine undergoes a somewhat analogous change of heart1 coming to love the husband whom she has previously despised4 ,but we have no difficulty in accepting her conversion1 partly because its reasons are clear and fairly adequate1 partly because there is no question of convincing the husband1 who has never realized her previous contempt for him4 ,,chapter ,,xx ,,blind-,,alley ,,themes--,,and ,,others ,a blind-alley theme1 as its name imports1 is one from which there is no exit4 ,it is a problem incapable of solution1 or1 rather1 of which all possible solutions are equally unsatisfactory and undesirable4 ,the playwright cannot too soon make sure that he has not strayed into such a no-thoroughfare4 ,whether an end be comic or tragic1 romantic or ironic1 happy or disastrous1 it should satisfy something within us--our sense of truth1 or of beauty1 or of sublimity1 or of justice1 or of humour1 or1 at the least or lowest1 our cynical sense of the baseness of human nature1 and the vanity of human aspirations4 ,but a play which satisfies neither our higher nor our lower instincts1 baffles our sympathies1 and leaves our desires at fault between equally inacceptable alternatives--such a play1 whatever beauties of detail it may possess1 is a weariness of the spirit1 and an artistic blunder4 ,there are in literature two conspicuous examples of the blind-alley theme--two famous plays1 wherein two heroines are placed in somewhat similar dilemmas1 which merely paralyse our sympathies and inhibit our moral judgment4 ,the first of these is ,measure for ,measure4 ,if ever there was an insoluble problem in casuistry1 it is that which ,shakespeare has here chosen to present to us4 ,isabella is forced to choose between what we can only describe as two detestable evils4 ,if she resists ,angelo1 and lets her brother die1 she recoils from an act of self-sacrifice2 and1 although we may coldly approve1 we cannot admire or take pleasure in her action4 ,if1 on the other hand1 she determines at all costs to save her brother's life1 her sacrifice is a thing from which we want only to avert the mind3 it belongs to the region of what ,aristotle calls to miaron1 the odious and intolerable4 ,shakespeare1 indeed1 confesses the problem insoluble in the fact that he leaves it unsolved--evading it by means of a mediaeval trick4 ,but where1 then1 was the use of presenting it8 ,what is the artistic profit of letting the imagination play around a problem which merely baffles and repels it8 ,sardou1 indeed1 presented the same problem1 not as the theme of a whole play1 but only of a single act2 and he solved it by making ,floria ,tosca kill ,scarpia4 ,this is a solution which1 at any rate1 satisfies our craving for crude justice1 and is melodramatically effective4 ,shakespeare probably ignored it1 partly because it was not in his sources1 partly because1 for some obscure reason1 he supposed himself to be writing a comedy4 ,the result is that1 though the play contains some wonderful poetry1 and has been from time to time revived1 it has never taken any real hold upon popular esteem4 ,the second glaring instance of a blind-alley theme is that of ,monna ,vanna4 ,we have all of us1 ,i suppose1 stumbled1 either as actors or onlookers1 into painful situations1 which not even a miracle of tact could possibly save4 ,as a rule1 of course1 they are comic1 and the agony they cause may find a safety-valve in laughter4 ,but sometimes there occurs some detestable incident1 over which it is equally impossible to laugh and to weep4 ,the wisest words1 the most graceful acts1 are of no avail4 ,one longs only to sink into the earth1 or vanish into thin air4 ,such a situation1 on the largest possible scale1 is that presented in ,monna ,vanna4 ,it differs from that of ,measure for ,measure in the fact that there can be no doubt as to the moral aspect of the case4 ,it is quite clear that ,giovanna ought to sacrifice herself to save1 not one puling ,claudio1 but a whole city full of men1 women1 and children4 ,what she does is absolutely right2 but the conjuncture is none the less a grotesque and detestable one1 which ought to be talked about and thought about as little as possible4 ,every word that is uttered is a failure in tact4 ,guido1 the husband1 behaves1 in the first act1 with a violent egoism1 which is certainly lacking in dignity2 but will any one tell me what would be a dignified course for him to pursue under the circumstances8 ,the sage old ,marco1 too--that fifteenth-century ,renan--flounders just as painfully as the hot-headed ,guido4 ,it is the fatality of the case that he cannot open his mouth without putting his foot in it2 and a theme which exposes a well-meaning old gentleman to this painful necessity is one by all means to be avoided4 ,the fact that it is a false alarm1 and that there is no rational explanation for ,prinzivalle's wanton insult to a woman whom he reverently idolizes1 in no way makes matters better4#a ,not the least grotesque thing in the play is ,giovanna's expectation that ,guido will receive ,prinzivalle with open arms because he has--changed his mind4 ,we can feel neither approval nor disapproval1 sympathy nor antipathy1 in such a deplorable conjunction of circumstances4 ,all we wish is that we had not been called upon to contemplate it4#b ,maeterlinck1 like ,shakespeare1 was simply dallying with the idea of a squalid heroism--so squalid1 indeed1 that neither he nor his predecessor had the courage to carry it through4 ,pray observe that the defect of these two themes is not merely that they are unpleasant4 ,it is that there is no possible way out of them which is not worse than unpleasant3 humiliating1 and distressing4 ,let the playwright1 then1 before embarking on a theme1 make sure that he has some sort of satisfaction to offer us at the end1 if it be only the pessimistic pleasure of realizing some part of the bitter1 old and wrinkled truth about life4 ,the crimes of destiny there is some profit in contemplating2 but its stupid vulgarities minister neither to profit nor delight4 99 99 99 99 99 ,it may not be superfluous to give at this point a little list of subjects which1 though not blind-alley themes1 are equally to be avoided4 ,some of them1 indeed1 are the reverse of blind-alley themes1 their drawback lying in the fact that the way out of them is too tediously apparent4 ,at the head of this list ,i would place what may be called the white marriage theme3 not because it is ineffective1 but because its effectiveness is very cheap and has been sadly overdone4 ,it occurs in two varieties3 either a proud but penniless damsel is married to a wealthy parvenu1 or a woman of culture and refinement is married to a rough diamond4 ,in both cases the action consists of the transformation of a nominal into a real marriage2 and it is almost impossible1 in these days1 to lend any novelty to the process4 ,in the good old ,lady of ,lyons the theme was decked in trappings of romantic absurdity1 which somehow harmonized with it4 ,one could hear in it a far-off echo of revolutionary rodomontade4 ,the social aspect of the matter was emphasized1 and the satire on middle-class snobbery was cruelly effective4 ,the personal aspect1 on the other hand--the unfulfilment of the nominal marriage--was lightly and discreetly handled1 according to early-,victorian convention4 ,in later days--from the time of ,m4 ,george ,ohnet's ,matre de ,forges onwards--this is the aspect on which playwrights have preferred to dwell4 ,usually1 the theme shades off into the almost equally hackneyed ,still ,waters ,run ,deep theme2 for there is apt to be an aristocratic lover whom the unpolished but formidable husband threatens to shoot or horsewhip1 and thereby overcomes the last remnant of repugnance in the breast of his haughty spouse4 ,in ,the ,ironmaster the lover was called the ,duc de ,bligny1 or1 more commonly1 the ,dook de ,bleeny2 but he has appeared under many aliases4 ,in the chief ,american version of the theme1 ,mr4 ,vaughn ,moody's ,great ,divide1 the lover is dispensed with altogether1 being inconsistent1 no doubt1 with the austere manners of ,milford ,corners1 ,mass4 ,in one of the recent ,french versions1 on the other hand--,m4 ,bernstein's ,samson--the aristocratic lover is almost as important a character as the virile1 masterful1 plebeian husband4 ,it appears from this survey--which might be largely extended--that there are several ways of handling the theme2 but there is no way of renewing and deconventionalizing it4 ,no doubt it has a long life before it on the plane of popular melodrama1 but scarcely1 one hopes1 on any higher plane4 ,another theme which ought to be relegated to the theatrical lumber-room is that of patient1 inveterate revenge4 ,this form of vindictiveness is1 from a dramatic point of view1 an outworn passion4 ,it is too obviously irrational and anti-social to pass muster in modern costume4 ,the actual vendetta may possibly survive in some semi-barbarous regions1 and ,grangerfords and ,shepherdsons 7as in ,mark ,twain's immortal romance7 may still be shooting each other at sight4 ,but these things are relics of the past2 they do not belong to the normal1 typical life of our time4 ,it is useless to say that human nature is the same in all ages4 ,that is one of the facile axioms of psychological incompetence4 ,far be it from me to deny that malice1 hatred1 spite1 and the spirit of retaliation are1 and will be until the millennium1 among the most active forces in human nature4 ,but most people are coming to recognize that life is too short for deliberate1 elaborate1 cold-drawn revenge4 ,they will hit back when they conveniently can2 they will cherish for half a lifetime a passive1 an obstructive1 ill-will2 they will even await for years an opportunity of getting their knife into an enemy4 ,but they have grown chary of cutting off their nose to spite their face2 they will very rarely sacrifice their own comfort in life to the mere joy of protracted1 elaborate reprisals4 ,vitriol and the revolver--an outburst of rage1 culminating in a short1 sharp shock--these belong1 if you will1 to modern life4 ,but long-drawn1 unhasting1 unresting machination1 with no end in view beyond an ultimate unmasking1 a turn of the tables--in a word1 a strong situation--this1 ,i take it1 belongs to a phase of existence more leisurely than ours4 ,there is no room in our crowded century for such large and sustained passions4 ,one could mention plays--but they are happily forgotten--in which retribution was delayed for some thirty or forty years1 during which the unconscious object of it enjoyed a happy and prosperous existence4 ,these1 no doubt1 are extreme instances2 but cold-storage revenge1 as a whole1 ought to be as rare on the stage as it is in real life4 ,the serious playwright will do well to leave it to the melodramatists4 ,a third theme to be handled with the greatest caution1 if at all1 is that of heroic self-sacrifice4 ,not that self-sacrifice1 like revenge1 is an outworn passion4 ,it still rages in daily life2 but no audience of average intelligence will to-day accept it with the uncritical admiration which it used to excite in the sentimental dramas of last century4 ,even then--even in #ahfi--,meilhac and ,halvy1 in their ever-memorable ,froufrou1 showed what disasters often result from it2 but it retained its prestige with the average playwright--and with some who were above the average--for many a day after that4 ,i can recall a play1 by a living ,english author1 in which a ,colonel in the ,indian ,army pleaded guilty to a damning charge of cowardice rather than allow a lady whom he chivalrously adored to learn that it was her husband who was the real coward and traitor4 ,he knew that the lady detested her husband2 he knew that they had no children to suffer by the husband's disgrace2 he knew that there was a quite probable way by which he might have cleared his own character without casting any imputation on the other man4 ,but in a sheer frenzy of self-sacrifice he blasted his own career1 and thereby inflicted far greater pain upon the woman he loved than if he had told the truth or suffered it to be told4 ,and twenty years afterwards1 when the villain was dead1 the hero still resolutely refused to clear his own character1 lest the villain's widow should learn the truth about her wholly unlamented husband4 ,this was an extravagant and childish case2 but the superstition of heroic self-sacrifice still lingers in certain quarters1 and cannot be too soon eradicated4 ,i do not mean1 of course1 that self-sacrifice is never admirable1 but only that it can no longer be accepted as a thing inherently noble1 apart from its circumstances and its consequences4 ,an excellent play might be written with the express design of placing the ethics of self-sacrifice in their true light4 ,perhaps the upshot might be the recognition of the simple principle that it is immoral to make a sacrifice which the person supposed to benefit by it has no right to accept4 ,another motive against which it is perhaps not quite superfluous to warn the aspiring playwright is the voix du sang4 ,it is only a few years since this miraculous voice was heard speaking loud and long in ,his ,majesty's ,theatre1 ,london1 and in a play by a no less modern-minded author than the late ,clyde ,fitch4 ,it was called ,the ,last of the ,dandies1#c and its hero was ,count ,d',orsay4 ,at a given moment1 ,d',orsay learned that a young man known as ,lord ,raoul ,ardale was in reality his son4 ,instantly the man of the world1 the squire of dames1 went off into a deliquium of tender emotion4 ,for my bo--oy he would do anything and everything4 ,he would go down to ,crockford's and win a pot of money to pay my boy's debts--,fortune could not but be kind to a doting parent4 ,in the beautiful simplicity of his soul1 he looked forward with eager delight to telling ,raoul that the mother he adored was no better than she should be1 and that he had no right to his name or title4 ,not for a moment did he doubt that the young man would share his transports4 ,when the mother opposed his purpose of betraying her secret1 he wept with disappointment4 ,all day1 he said1 ,i have been saying to myself3 ,when that sun sets1 ,i shall hear him say1 ',good-night1 ,father6' ,he postulated in so many words the voix du sang1 trusting that1 even if the revelation were not formally made1 ,nature would send the boy some impulse of filial affection4 ,it is hard to believe--but it is the fact--that1 well within the present century1 such ingenuous nonsense as this was gravely presented to the public of a leading theatre1 by an author of keen intelligence1 who1 but for an unhappy accident1 would now be at the zenith of his career4 ,there are few more foolish conventions than that of the voix du sang4 ,perhaps1 however1 the rising generation of playwrights has more need to be warned against the opposite or ,shawesque convention1 that kinship utters itself mainly in wrangling and mutual dislike4 ,among inherently feeble and greatly overdone expedients may be reckoned the oath or promise of secrecy1 exacted for no sufficient reason1 and kept in defiance of common sense and common humanity4 ,lord ,windermere's conduct in ,oscar ,wilde's play is a case in point1 though he has not even an oath to excuse his insensate secretiveness4 ,a still clearer instance is afforded by ,clyde ,fitch's play ,the ,girl with the ,green ,eyes4 ,in other respects a very able play1 it is vitiated by the certainty that ,austin ought to have1 and would have1 told the truth ten times over1 rather than subject his wife's jealous disposition to the strain he puts upon it4 ,it would not be difficult to prolong this catalogue of themes and motives that have come down in the world1 and are no longer presentable in any society that pretends to intelligence4 ,but it is needless to enter into further details4 ,there is a general rule1 of sovereign efficacy1 for avoiding such anachronisms3 ,go to life for your themes1 and not to the theatre4 ,observe that rule1 and you are safe4 ,but it is easier said than done4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,i have good reason for believing that1 in ,m4 ,maeterlinck's original scheme1 ,prinzivalle imposed no such humiliating condition4 ,giovanna went of her own motive to appeal to his clemency2 and her success was so complete that her husband1 on her return1 could not believe that it had been won by avowable means4 ,this is a really fine conception--what a pity that the poet departed from it6 ,footnote #b3 ,much has been made of the ,censor's refusal to license ,monna ,vanna2 but ,i think there is more to be said for his action in this than in many other cases4 ,in those countries where the play has succeeded1 ,i cannot but suspect that the appeal it made was not wholly to the higher instincts of the public4 ,footnote #c3 ,i am not sure what was the precise relationship of this play to the same author's ,beau ,brummel4 ,d',orsay's death scene was certainly a repetition of ,brummel's4 ,,chapter ,,xxi ,,the ,,full ,,close ,in an earlier chapter1 ,i have tried to show that a certain tolerance for anticlimax1 for a fourth or fifth act of calm after the storm of the penultimate act1 is consonant with right reason1 and is a practically inevitable result of a really intimate relation between drama and life4 ,but it would be a complete misunderstanding of my argument to suppose that ,i deny the practical1 and even the artistic1 superiority of those themes in which the tension can be maintained and heightened to the very end4 ,the fact that tragedy has from of old been recognized as a higher form than comedy is partly due1 no doubt1 to the tragic poet's traditional right to round off a human destiny in death4 ,call no man happy till his life be ended1 said ,sophocles1 quoting from an earlier sage2 and it needed no profundity of wisdom to recognize in the happy ending of comedy a conventional1 ephemeral thing4 ,but when1 after all the peripeties of life1 the hero home has gone and ta'en his wages1 we feel that1 at any rate1 we have looked destiny squarely in the face1 without evasion or subterfuge4 ,perhaps the true justification of tragedy as a form of art is that1 after this experience1 we should feel life to be1 not less worth living1 but greater and more significant than before4 ,this is no place1 however1 for a discussion of the aesthetic basis of tragedy in general4#a ,what is here required1 from the point of view of craftsmanship1 is not so much a glorification of the tragic ending1 as a warning against its facile misuse4 ,a very great play may1 and often must1 end in death2 but you cannot make a play great by simply killing off your protagonist4 ,death is1 after all1 a very inexpensive means of avoiding anticlimax4 ,tension1 as we saw1 is symbolized in the sword of ,damocles2 and it can always be maintained1 in a mechanical way1 by letting your hero play about with a revolver1 or placing an overdose of chloral well within your heroine's reach4 ,at the time when the ,english drama was awaking from the lethargy of the 'seventies1 an idea got abroad that a non-sanguinary ending was always and necessarily inartistic1 and that a self-respecting playwright must at all hazards kill somebody before dropping his curtain4 ,this was an extravagant reaction against the purely commercial principle that the public would not1 on any terms1 accept a tragic ending4 ,as a matter of fact1 the mortality was not very great2 for managers were resolute in the old belief1 and few dramatists had the courage or authority to stand up against them4 ,but ,i have often heard playwrights lamenting their inability to massacre the luckless children of their fancy1 who1 nine times out of ten1 had done nothing to incur such a doom4 ,the real trouble was that death seemed to be the only method of avoiding anticlimax4 ,it is a very sound rule that1 before you determine to write a tragedy1 you should make sure that you have a really tragic theme3 that you can place your hero at such odds with life that reconciliation1 or mere endurance1 would be morally base or psychologically improbable4 ,moreover1 you must strike deep into character before you are justified in passing capital sentence on your personages4 ,death is a disproportionate close for a commonplace and superficially-studied life4 ,it is true that quite commonplace people do die2 indeed1 they preponderate in the bills of mortality2 but death on the stage confers a sort of distinction which ought not to be accorded without due and sufficient cause4 ,to one god in particular we may apply the ,horatian maxim1 ,nec deus intersit1 nisi dignus vindice nodus4 ,in ,german aesthetic theory1 the conception tragische ,schuld--tragic guilt--plays a large part4 ,it descends1 no doubt1 from the ,aristotelian maxim that a tragic hero must neither be too good nor too bad2 but it also belongs to a moralizing conception1 which tacitly or explicitly assumes that the dramatist's aim ought to be to justify the ways of ,god to man4 ,in these days we look at drama more objectively1 and do not insist on deciding in what degree a man has deserved death1 if only we feel that he has necessarily or probably incurred it4 ,but in order that we may be satisfied of this1 we must know him intimately and feel with him intensely4 ,we must1 in other words1 believe that he dies because he cannot live1 and not merely to suit the playwright's convenience and help him to an effective curtain4 ,as we review the series of ,ibsen's modern plays1 we cannot but feel that1 though he did not shrink from death1 he never employed it1 except perhaps in his last melancholy effort1 as a mere way of escape from a difficulty4 ,in five out of his thirteen modern plays1 no one dies at all4#b ,one might even say six3 for ,oswald1 in ,ghosts1 may live for years2 but ,i hold it as only fair to count the death of his mind as more than equivalent to bodily death4 ,solness1 on the plane of literal fact1 dies by an accident2 on the plane of symbolic interpretation1 he dies of the over-great demands which ,hilda makes upon his sickly conscience4 ,little ,eyolf's death can also be regarded from a symbolic point of view2 but there is no substantial reason to think of it otherwise than as an accident4 ,john ,gabriel ,borkman dies of heart seizure1 resulting from sudden exposure to extreme cold4 ,in the case of ,solness and ,borkman1 death is a quite natural and probable result of the antecedent conditions2 and in the case of ,eyolf1 it is not a way out of the action1 but rather the way into it4 ,there remain the three cases of suicide3 ,rebecca and ,rosmer1 ,hedda ,gabler1 and ,hedvig4 ,i have already1 in ,chapter ,,xix1 shown how the death of ,rebecca was the inevitable outcome of the situation--the one conclusive proof of her ennoblement--and how it was almost equally inevitable that ,rosmer should accompany her to her end4 ,hedda ,gabler was constitutionally fated to suicide3 a woman of low vitality1 overmastering egoism1 and acute supersensitiveness1 placed in a predicament which left her nothing to expect from life but tedium and humiliation4 ,the one case left--that of ,hedvig--is the only one in which ,ibsen can possibly be accused of wanton bloodshed4 ,bjrnson1 in a very moving passage in his novel1 ,the ,paths of ,god1 did actually1 though indirectly1 make that accusation4 ,certainly1 there is no more heartrending incident in fiction2 and certainly it is a thing that only consummate genius can justify4 ,ibsen happened to possess that genius1 and ,i am not far from agreeing with those who hold ,the ,wild ,duck to be his greatest work4 ,but for playwrights who are tempted to seek for effects of pathos by similar means1 one may without hesitation lay down this maxim3 ,be sure you are an ,ibsen before you kill your ,hedvig4 ,this analysis of ,ibsen's practice points to the fact--for such ,i believe it to be--that what the modern playwright has chiefly to guard against is the temptation to overdo suicide as a means of cutting the dramatic knot4 ,in ,france and ,germany there is another temptation1 that of the duel2#c but in ,anglo-,saxon countries it scarcely presents itself4 ,death1 other than self-inflicted1 is much less tempting1 and less apt to be resorted to in and out of season4 ,the heroine1 whether virtuous or erring1 who dies of consumption1 has gone greatly out of vogue4 ,a broken heart is no longer held to be necessarily fatal4 ,the veriest tyro realizes that death by crude accident is inadmissible as a determining factor in serious drama2 and murder is practically 7though not absolutely7 relegated to the melodramatic domain4 ,the one urgent question1 then1 is that of the artistic use and abuse of suicide4 ,the principle is pretty plain1 ,i think1 that it ought to be the artist's1 as it is the man's1 last resort4 ,we know that1 in most civilized countries1 suicide is greatly on the increase4 ,it cannot be called an infrequent incident in daily life4 ,it is certain1 too1 that the motives impelling to it are apt to be of a dramatic nature1 and therefore suited to the playwright's purposes4 ,but it is1 on the other hand1 such a crude and unreasoning means of exit from the tangle of existence that a playwright of delicate instincts will certainly employ it only under the strongest compulsion from his artistic conscience4 ,sir ,arthur ,pinero has three suicides on his record1 though one of them was1 so to speak1 nipped in the bud4 ,in ,the ,profligate1 as presented on the stage1 ,dunstan ,renshaw changed his mind before draining the fatal goblet2 and in this case the stage version was surely the right one4 ,the suicide1 to which the author still clings in the printed text1 practically dates the play as belonging to the above-mentioned period of rebellion against the conventional happy ending1 when the ambitious ,british dramatist felt that honour required him to kill his man on the smallest provocation4#d ,nearly a quarter of a century has passed since then1 and the disproportion between such a play and such a catastrophe is now apparent to everyone4 ,it is not that we judge ,renshaw's delinquencies to be over-punished by death--that is not the question4 ,the fact is simply that the characters are not large enough1 true enough1 living enough--that the play does not probe deep enough into human experience--to make the august intervention of death seem other than an incongruity4 ,the suicide of ,paula ,tanqueray1 though it1 too1 has been much criticized1 is a very different matter4 ,inevitable it cannot be called3 if the play had been written within the past ten years1 ,sir ,arthur would very likely have contrived to do without it4 ,but it is1 in itself1 probable enough3 both the good and the bad in ,paula's character might easily make her feel that only the dregs of life remained to her1 and they not worth drinking4 ,the worst one can say of it is that it sins against the canon of practical convenience which enjoins on the prudent dramatist strict economy in suicide4 ,the third case1 ,zoe ,blundell's leap to nothingness1 in that harsh and ruthless masterpiece1 ,mid-,channel1 is as inevitable as anything can well be in human destiny4 ,zoe has made a miserable and hopeless muddle of her life4 ,in spite of her goodness of heart1 she has no interests and no ideals1 apart from the personal satisfactions which have now been poisoned at their source4 ,she has intervened disastrously in the destinies of others4 ,she is ill2 her nerves are all on edge2 and she is1 as it were1 driven into a corner1 from which there is but one easy and rapid exit4 ,here is a case1 if ever there was one1 where the end is imposed upon the artist by the whole drift of his action4 ,it may be said that chance plays a large part in the concatenation of events--that1 for instance1 if ,leonard ,ferris had not happened to live at the top of a very high building1 ,zoe would not have encountered the sudden temptation to which she yields4 ,but this1 as ,i have tried to show above1 is a baseless complaint4 ,chance is a constant factor in life1 now aiding1 now thwarting1 the will4 ,to eliminate it altogether would be to produce a most unlifelike world4 ,it is only when the playwright so manipulates and reduplicates chance as to make it seem no longer chance1 but purposeful arrangement1 that we have the right to protest4 ,another instance of indisputably justified suicide may be found in ,mr4 ,galsworthy's ,justice4 ,the whole theme of the play is nothing but the hounding to his end of a luckless youth1 who has got on the wrong side of the law1 and finds all the forces of society leagued against him4 ,in ,mr4 ,granville ,barker's ,waste1 the artistic justification for ,trebell's self-effacement is less clear and compulsive4 ,it is true that the play was suggested by the actual suicide1 not of a politician1 but of a soldier1 who found his career ruined by some pitiful scandal4 ,but the author has made no attempt to reproduce the actual circumstances of that case2 and even if he had reproduced the external circumstances1 the psychological conditions would clearly have eluded him4 ,thus the appeal to fact is1 as it always must be1 barred4 ,in two cases1 indeed1 much more closely analogous to ,trebell's than that which actually suggested it--two famous cases in which a scandal cut short a brilliant political career--suicide played no part in the catastrophe4 ,these real-life instances are1 ,i repeat1 irrelevant4 ,the only question is whether ,mr4 ,barker has made us feel that a man of ,trebell's character would certainly not survive the paralysing of his energies2 and that question every spectator must answer for himself4 ,i am far from answering it in the negative4 ,i merely suggest that the playwright may one day come across a theme for which there is no conceivable ending but suicide1 and may wish that he had let ,trebell live1 lest people should come to regard him as a spendthrift of self-slaughter4 ,the suicide which brings to a close ,mr4 ,clyde ,fitch's very able play1 ,the ,climbers1 stands on a somewhat different level4 ,here it is not the protagonist who makes away with himself1 nor is his destiny the main theme of the play4 ,mr4 ,fitch has painted a broad social picture1 in which1 if there is any concentration of interest1 it is upon ,blanche and ,warden4 ,sterling's suicide1 then1 though it does in fact cut the chief knot of the play1 is to be regarded rather as a characteristic and probable incident of a certain phase of life1 than as the culmination of a spiritual tragedy4 ,it has not the artistic significance1 either good or bad1 that it would have if the character and destiny of ,sterling were our main concernment4 99 99 99 99 99 ,the happy playwright1 one may say1 is he whose theme does not force upon him either a sanguinary or a tame last act1 but enables him1 without troubling the coroner1 to sustain and increase the tension up to the very close4 ,such themes are not too common1 but they do occur4 ,dumas found one in ,denise1 and another in ,francillon1 where the famous ,il en a menti6 comes within two minutes of the fall of the curtain4 ,in ,heimat 7,magda7 and in ,johannisfeuer1 ,sudermann keeps the tension at its height up to the fall of the curtain4 ,sir ,arthur ,pinero's ,iris is a case in point2 so are ,mr4 ,shaw's ,candida and ,the ,devil's ,disciple2 so is ,mr4 ,galsworthy's ,strife4 ,other instances will no doubt occur to the reader2 yet he will probably be surprised to find that it is not very easy to recall them4 ,for this is not1 in fact1 the typical modern formula4 ,in plays which do not end in death1 it will generally be found that the culminating scene occurs in the penultimate act1 and that1 if anticlimax is avoided1 it is not by the maintenance of an unbroken tension1 by its skilful renewal and reinforcement in the last act4 ,this is a resource which the playwright will do well to bear in mind4 ,where he cannot place his great scene in his last act1 he should always consider whether it be not possible to hold some development in reserve whereby the tension may be screwed up again--if unexpectedly1 so much the better4 ,some of the most successful plays within my recollection have been those in which the last act came upon us as a pleasant surprise4 ,an anticlimax had seemed inevitable2 and behold6 the author had found a way out of it4 ,an ,enemy of the ,people may perhaps be placed in this class1 though1 as before remarked1 the last act is almost an independent comedy4 ,had the play ended with the fourth act1 no one would have felt that anything was lacking2 so that in his fifth act1 ,ibsen was not so much grappling with an urgent technical problem1 as amusing himself by wringing the last drop of humour out of the given situation4 ,a more strictly apposite example may be found in ,sir ,arthur ,pinero's play1 ,his ,house in ,order4 ,here the action undoubtedly culminates in the great scene between ,nina and ,hilary ,jesson in the third act2 yet we await with eager anticipation the discomfiture of the ,ridgeley family2 and when we realize that it is to be brought about by the disclosure to ,filmer of ,annabel's secret1 the manifest rightness of the proceeding gives us a little shock of pleasure4 ,mr4 ,somerset ,maugham1 again1 in the last act of ,grace1 employs an ingenious device to keep the tension at a high pitch4 ,the matter of the act consists mainly of a debate as to whether ,grace ,insole ought1 or ought not1 to make a certain painful avowal to her husband4 ,as the negative opinion was to carry the day1 ,mr4 ,maugham saw that there was grave danger that the final scene might appear an almost ludicrous anticlimax4 ,to obviate this1 he made ,grace1 at the beginning of the act1 write a letter of confession1 and address it to ,claude2 so that all through the discussion we had at the back of our mind the question ,will the letter reach his hands8 ,will the sword of ,damocles fall8 ,this may seem like a leaf from the book of ,sardou2 but in reality it was a perfectly natural and justified expedient4 ,it kept the tension alive throughout a scene of ethical discussion1 interesting in itself1 but pretty clearly destined to lead up to the undramatic alternative--a policy of silence and inaction4 ,mr4 ,clyde ,fitch1 in the last act of ,the ,truth1 made an elaborate and daring endeavour to relieve the mawkishness of the clearly-foreseen reconciliation between ,warder and ,becky4 ,he let ,becky fall in with her father's mad idea of working upon ,warder's compassion by pretending that she had tried to kill herself4 ,only at the last moment did she abandon the sordid comedy1 and so prove herself 7as we are asked to suppose7 cured for ever of the habit of fibbing4 ,mr4 ,fitch here showed good technical insight marred by over-hasty execution4 ,that ,becky should be tempted to employ her old methods1 and should overcome the temptation1 was entirely right2 but the actual deception attempted was so crude and hopeless that there was no plausibility in her consenting to it1 and no merit in her desisting from it4 ,in light comedy and farce it is even more desirable than in serious drama to avoid a tame and perfunctory last act4 ,very often a seemingly trivial invention will work wonders in keeping the interest afoot4 ,in ,mr4 ,anstey's delightful farce1 ,the ,brass ,bottle1 one looked forward rather dolefully to a flat conclusion2 but by the simple device of letting the ,jinny omit to include ,pringle in his act of oblivion1 the author is enabled to make his last scene quite as amusing as any of its predecessors4 ,mr4 ,arnold ,bennett1 in ,the ,honeymoon1 had the audacity to play a deliberate trick on the audience1 in order to evade an anticlimax4 ,seeing that his third act could not at best be very good1 he purposely put the audience on a false scent1 made it expect an absolutely commonplace ending 7the marriage of ,flora to ,charles ,haslam71 and then substituted one which1 if not very brilliant1 was at least ingenious and unforeseen4 ,thus1 by defeating the expectation of a superlatively bad act1 he made a positively insignificant act seem comparatively good4 ,such feats of craftsmanship are entertaining1 but too dangerous to be commended for imitation4 ,in some modern plays a full close is achieved by the simple expedient of altogether omitting the last act1 or last scene1 and leaving the end of the play to the imagination4 ,this method is boldly and 7,i understand7 successfully employed by ,mr4 ,edward ,sheldon in his powerful play1 ,the ,nigger4 ,philip ,morrow1 the popular ,governor of one of the ,southern ,states1 has learnt that his grandmother was a quadroon1 and that consequently he has in him a much-attenuated strain of ,african blood4 ,in the ,southern ,states1 attenuation matters nothing3 if the remotest filament of a man's ancestry runs back to ,africa1 he is a nigger all right4 ,philip has just suppressed a race-riot in the city1 and1 from the balcony of the ,state ,capitol1 is to address the troops who have aided him1 and the assembled multitude4 ,having resolutely parted from the woman he adores1 but can no longer marry1 he steps out upon the balcony to announce that he is a negro1 that he resigns the ,governorship1 and that henceforth he casts in his lot with his black brethren4 ,the stage-direction runs thus-- ,the afternoon sun strikes his figure4 ,at his appearance a shout goes up--long1 steady1 enthusiastic cheering2 and1 after a moment1 the big regimental band begins playing1 very slowly1 ,my ,country1 'tis of ,thee4 444 ,all the people in the room are smiling and applauding enthusiastically2 and--as ,phil in vain raises his hand for silence1 and the band crashes through the ,national ,anthem1 and the roar of voices still rises from below-- ,,the ,,curtain ,,falls4 ,one does not know whether to praise ,mr4 ,sheldon for having adroitly avoided an anticlimax1 or to reproach him with having unblushingly shirked a difficulty4 ,to my sense1 the play has somewhat the air of a hexameter line with the spondee cut off4#e ,one does want to see the peripety through4 ,but if the audience is content to imagine the sequel1 ,mr4 ,sheldon's craftsmanship is justified1 and there is no more to be said4 ,m4 ,brieux experienced some difficulty in bringing his early play1 ,blanchette1 to a satisfactory close4 ,the third act which he originally wrote was found unendurably cynical2 a more agreeable third act was condemned as an anticlimax2 and for some time the play was presented with no third act at all4 ,it did not end1 but simply left off4 ,no doubt it is better that a play should stop in the middle than that it should drag on tediously and ineffectually4 ,but it would be foolish to make a system of such an expedient4 ,it is1 after all1 an evasion1 not a solution1 of the artist's problem4 ,an incident which occurred during the rehearsals for the first production of ,a ,doll's ,house1 at the ,novelty ,theatre1 ,london1 illustrates the difference between the old1 and what was then the new1 fashion of ending a play4 ,the business manager of the company1 a man of ripe theatrical experience1 happened to be present one day when ,miss ,achurch and ,mr4 ,waring were rehearsing the last great scene between ,nora and ,helmar4 ,at the end of it1 he came up to me1 in a state of high excitement4 ,this is a fine play6 he said4 ,this is sure to be a big thing6 ,i was greatly pleased4 ,if this scene1 of all others1 ,i thought1 carries a man like ,mr4 ,smith off his feet1 it cannot fail to hold the ,british public4 ,but ,i was somewhat dashed when1 a day or two later1 ,mr4 ,smith came up to me again1 in much less buoyant spirits4 ,i made a mistake about that scene1 he said4 ,they tell me it's the end of the last act--,i thought it was the end of the first6 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,the reader who wishes to pursue the theme may do so to excellent advantage in ,professor ,bradley's ,shakespearean ,tragedy4 ,footnote #b3 ,it is true that in ,a ,doll's ,house1 ,dr4 ,rank announces his approaching demise3 but he does not actually die1 nor is his fate an essential part of the action of the play4 ,footnote #c3 ,the duel1 even in countries whose customs permit of it1 is essentially an inartistic end2 for it leaves the catastrophe to be decided either by ,chance or ,providence--two equally inadmissible arbiters in modern drama4 ,alexandre ,dumas fils1 in his preface to ,hlose ,paranquet1 condemns the duel as a dramatic expedient4 ,not to mention1 he says1 the fact that it has been much over-done1 we are bound to recognize that ,providence1 in a fit of absence of mind1 sometimes suffers the rascal to kill the honest man4 ,let me recommend my young colleagues1 he proceeds1 never to end a piece which pretends to reproduce a phase of real life1 by an intervention of chance4 ,the recommendation came rather oddly from the dramatist who1 in ,l',etrangre1 had disposed of his vibrion1 the ,duc de ,septmonts1 by making ,clarkson kill him in a duel4 ,perhaps he did not reckon ,l',etrangre as pretending to reproduce a phase of real life4 ,a duel is1 of course1 perfectly admissible in a ,french or ,german play1 simply as part of a picture of manners4 ,its stupid inconclusiveness may be the very point to be illustrated4 ,it is only when represented as a moral arbitrament that it becomes an anachronism4 ,footnote #d3 ,i am glad to see1 from ,mr4 ,malcolm ,salaman's introduction to the printed play1 that1 even in those days of our hot youth1 my own aesthetic principles were less truculent4 ,footnote #e3 ,this image is sometimes suggested by an act-ending which leaves a marked situation obviously unresolved4 ,the curtain should never be dropped at such a point as to leave the characters in a physical or mental attitude which cannot last for more than a moment1 and must certainly be followed1 then and there1 by important developments4 ,in other words1 a situation ought not to be cut short at the very height of its tension1 but only when it has reached a point of--at any rate momentary--relaxation4 ,,book ,v ,,epilogue ,,chapter ,,xxii ,,character ,,and ,,psychology ,for the invention and ordering of incident it is possible1 if not to lay down rules1 at any rate to make plausible recommendations2 but the power to observe1 to penetrate1 and to reproduce character can neither be acquired nor regulated by theoretical recommendations4 ,indirectly1 of course1 all the technical discussions of the previous chapters tend1 or ought to tend1 towards the effective presentment of character2 for construction1 in drama of any intellectual quality1 has no other end4 ,but specific directions for character-drawing would be like rules for becoming six feet high4 ,either you have it in you1 or you have it not4 ,under the heading of character1 however1 two points arise which may be worth a brief discussion3 first1 ought we always to aim at development in character8 second1 what do we1 or ought we to1 mean by psychology8 ,it is a frequent critical complaint that in such-and-such a character there is no development3 that it remains the same throughout a play2 or 7so the reproach is sometimes worded7 that it is not a character but an invariable attitude4 ,a little examination will show us1 ,i think1 that1 though the critic may in these cases be pointing to a real fault1 he does not express himself quite accurately4 ,what is character8 ,for the practical purposes of the dramatist1 it may be defined as a complex of intellectual1 emotional1 and nervous habits4 ,some of these habits are innate and temperamental--habits formed1 no doubt1 by far-off ancestors4#a ,but this distinction does not here concern us4 ,temperamental bias is a habit1 like another1 only somewhat older1 and1 therefore1 harder to deflect or eradicate4 ,what do we imply1 then1 when we complain that1 in a given character1 no development has taken place8 ,we imply that he ought1 within the limits of the play1 to have altered the mental habits underlying his speech and actions4 ,but is this a reasonable demand8 ,is it consistent with the usual and desirable time-limits of drama8 ,in the long process of a novel1 there may be time for the gradual alteration of habits3 in the drama1 which normally consists of a single crisis1 any real change of character would have to be of a catastrophic nature1 in which experience does not encourage us to put much faith4 ,it was1 indeed--as ,dryden pointed out in a passage quoted above#b--one of the foibles of our easy-going ancestors to treat character as practically reversible when the time approached for ringing down the curtain4 ,the same convention survives to this day in certain forms of drama4 ,even ,ibsen1 in his earlier work1 had not shaken it off2 witness the sudden ennoblement of ,bernick in ,pillars of ,society4 ,but it can scarcely be that sort of development which the critics consider indispensable4 ,what is it1 then1 that they have in mind8 ,by development of character1 ,i think they mean1 not change1 but rather unveiling1 disclosure4 ,they hold1 not unreasonably1 that a dramatic crisis ought to disclose latent qualities in the persons chiefly concerned in it1 and involve1 not1 indeed1 a change1 but1 as it were1 an exhaustive manifestation of character4 ,the interest of the highest order of drama should consist in the reaction of character to a series of crucial experiences4 ,we should1 at the end of a play1 know more of the protagonist's character than he himself1 or his most intimate friend1 could know at the beginning2 for the action should have been such as to put it to some novel and searching test4 ,the word development might be very aptly used in the photographic sense4 ,a drama ought to bring out character as the photographer's chemicals bring out the forms latent in the negative4 ,but this is quite a different thing from development in the sense of growth or radical change4 ,in all modern drama1 there is perhaps no character who develops1 in the ordinary sense of the word1 so startlingly as ,ibsen's ,nora2 and we cannot but feel that the poet has compressed into a week an evolution which1 in fact1 would have demanded many months4 ,the complaint that a character preserves the same attitude throughout means 7if it be justified7 that it is not a human being at all1 but a mere embodiment of two or three characteristics which are fully displayed within the first ten minutes1 and then keep on repeating themselves1 like a recurrent decimal4 ,strong theatrical effects can be produced by this method1 which is that of the comedy of types1 or of humors4 ,but it is now generally1 and rightly1 held that a character should be primarily an individual1 and only incidentally 7if at all7 capable of classification under this type or that4 ,it is a little surprising to find ,sarcey1 so recently as #ahhi1 laying it down that a character is a master faculty or passion1 which absorbs all the rest4444 ,to study and paint a character is1 therefore1 by placing a man in a certain number of situations1 to show how this principal motive force in his nature annihilates or directs all those which1 if he had been another man1 would probably have come into action4 ,this dogma of the ruling passion belongs rather to the eighteenth century than to the close of the nineteenth4 99 99 99 99 99 ,we come now to the second of the questions above propounded1 which ,i will state more definitely in this form3 ,is psychology simply a more pedantic term for character-drawing8 ,or can we establish a distinction between the two ideas8 ,i do not think that1 as a matter of fact1 any difference is generally and clearly recognized2 but ,i suggest that it is possible to draw a distinction which might1 if accepted1 prove serviceable both to critics and to playwrights4 ,let me illustrate my meaning by an example4 ,in ,bella ,donna1 by ,messrs4 ,robert ,hichens and ,james ,b4 ,fagan1 we have a murder-story of a not uncommon or improbable type4 ,a woman of very shady reputation marries an amiable idealist who is infatuated with her4 ,she naturally finds his idealism incomprehensible and his amiability tedious4 ,his position as heir-presumptive to a peerage is shattered by the birth of an heir-apparent4 ,she becomes passionately enamoured of an ,egyptian millionaire2 and she sets to work to poison her husband with sugar-of-lead1 provided by her oriental lover4 ,how her criminal purpose is thwarted by a wise ,jewish physician is nothing to the present purpose4 ,in intent she is a murderess1 no less than ,lucrezia ,borgia or the ,marquise de ,brinvilliers4 ,and the authors have drawn her character cleverly enough4 ,they have shown her in the first act as a shallow-souled materialist1 and in the later acts as a vain1 irritable1 sensual1 unscrupulous creature4 ,but have they given us any insight into her psychology8 ,no1 that is just what they have not done4 ,they have assigned to her certain characteristics without which cruel and cold-blooded murder would be inconceivable2 but they have afforded us no insight into the moral conditions and1 mental processes which make it1 not only conceivable1 but almost an everyday occurrence4 ,for the average human mind1 ,i suppose1 the psychology of crime1 and especially of fiendish1 hypocritical murder-by-inches1 has an undeniable fascination4 ,to most of us it seems an abhorrent miracle2 and it would interest us greatly to have it brought more or less within the range of our comprehension1 and co-ordinated with other mental phenomena which we can and do understand4 ,but of such illumination we find nothing in ,bella ,donna4 ,it leaves the working of a poisoner's mind as dark to us as ever4 ,so far as that goes1 we might just as well have read the report of a murder-trial1 wherein the facts are stated with1 perhaps1 some superficial speculation as to motive1 but no attempt is made to penetrate to underlying soul-states4 ,yet this is surely the highest privilege of art--to take us behind and beneath those surfaces of things which are apparent to the detective and the reporter1 the juryman and the judge4 ,have we not here1 then1 the distinction between character-drawing and psychology8 ,character-drawing is the presentment of human nature in its commonly-recognized1 understood1 and accepted aspects2 psychology is1 as it were1 the exploration of character1 the bringing of hitherto unsurveyed tracts within the circle of our knowledge and comprehension4 ,in other words1 character-drawing is synthetic1 psychology analytic4 ,this does not mean that the one is necessarily inferior to the other4 ,some of the greatest masterpieces of creative art have been achieved by the synthesis of known elements4 ,falstaff1 for example--there is no more brilliant or more living character in all fiction2 yet it is impossible to say that ,shakespeare has here taken us into previously unplumbed depths of human nature1 as he has in ,hamlet1 or in ,lear4 ,no doubt it is often very hard to decide whether a given personage is a mere projection of the known or a divination of the unknown4 ,what are we to say1 for example1 of ,cleopatra1 or of ,shylock1 or of ,macbeth8 ,richard ,,ii1 on the other hand1 is as clearly a piece of psychology as the ,nurse in ,romeo and ,juliet is a piece of character-drawing4 ,the comedy of types necessarily tends to keep within the limits of the known1 and ,molire--in spite of ,alceste and ,don ,juan--is characteristically a character-drawer1 as ,racine is characteristically a psychologist4 ,ibsen is a psychologist or he is nothing4 ,earl ,skule and ,bishop ,nicholas1 ,hedda ,gabler and ,john ,gabriel ,borkman are daring explorations of hitherto uncharted regions of the human soul4 ,but ,ibsen1 too1 was a character-drawer when it suited him4 ,one is tempted to say that there is no psychology in ,brand--he is a mere incarnation of intransigent idealism--while ,peer ,gynt is as brilliant a psychological inspiration as ,don ,quixote4 ,dr4 ,stockmann is a vigorously-projected character1 ,hialmar ,ekdal a piece of searching psychology4 ,finally1 my point could scarcely be better illustrated than by a comparison--cruel but instructive --between ,rebecca in ,rosmersholm and the heroine in ,bella ,donna4 ,each is1 in effect1 a murderess1 though it was a moral1 not a mineral1 poison that ,rebecca employed4 ,but while we know nothing whatever of ,mrs4 ,armine's mental processes1 ,rebecca's temptations1 struggles1 sophistries1 hesitations1 resolves1 and revulsions of feeling are all laid bare to us1 so that we feel her to be no monster1 but a living woman1 comprehensible to our intelligence1 and1 however blameworthy1 not wholly beyond the range of our sympathies4 ,there are few greater achievements of psychology4 ,among the playwrights of to-day1 ,i should call ,mr4 ,granville ,barker above all things a psychologist4 ,it is his instinct to venture into untrodden fields of character1 or1 at any rate1 to probe deeply into phenomena which others have noted but superficially1 if at all4 ,hence the occasional obscurity of his dialogue4 ,mr4 ,shaw is not1 primarily1 either a character-drawer or a psychologist1 but a dealer in personified ideas4 ,his leading figures are1 as a rule1 either his mouthpieces or his butts4 ,when he gives us a piece of real character-drawing1 it is generally in some subordinate personage4 ,mr4 ,galsworthy1 ,i should say1 shows himself a psychologist in ,strife1 a character-drawer in ,the ,silver ,box and ,justice4 ,sir ,arthur ,pinero1 a character-drawer of great versatility1 becomes a psychologist in some of his studies of feminine types--in ,iris1 in ,letty1 in the luckless heroine of ,mid-,channel4 ,mr4 ,clyde ,fitch had1 at least1 laudable ambitions in the direction of psychology4 ,becky in ,the ,truth1 and ,jinny in ,the ,girl with the ,green ,eyes1 in so far as they are successfully drawn1 really do mean a certain advance on our knowledge of feminine human nature4 ,unfortunately1 owing to the author's over-facile and over-hasty method of work1 they are now and then a little out of drawing4 ,the most striking piece of psychology known to me in ,american drama is the ,faith ,healer in ,william ,vaughn ,moody's drama of that name4 ,if the last act of ,the ,faith ,healer were as good as the rest of it1 one might safely call it the finest play ever written1 at any rate in the ,english language1 beyond the ,atlantic4 ,the psychologists of the modern ,french stage1 ,i take it1 are ,m4 de ,curel and ,m4 de ,porto-,riche4 ,,mm4 ,brieux and ,hervieu are1 like ,mr4 ,shaw1 too much concerned with ideas to probe very deep into character4 ,in ,germany1 ,hauptmann1 and1 so far as ,i understand him1 ,wedekind1 are psychologists1 ,sudermann1 a vigorous character-drawer4 ,it is pretty clear that1 if this distinction were accepted1 it would be of use to the critic1 inasmuch as we should have two terms for two ideas1 instead of one popular term with a rather pedantic synonym4 ,but what would be its practical use to the artist1 the craftsman8 ,simply this1 that if the word psychology took on for him a clear and definite meaning1 it might stimulate at once his imagination and his ambition4 ,messrs4 ,hichens and ,fagan1 for example1 might have asked themselves--or each other--,are we getting beneath the surface of this woman's nature8 ,are we plucking the heart out of her mystery8 ,cannot we make the specific processes of a murderess's mind clearer to ourselves and to our audiences8 ,whether they would have been capable of rising to the opportunity1 ,i cannot tell2 but in the case of other authors one not infrequently feels3 ,this man could have taken us deeper into this problem if he had only thought of it4 ,i do not for a moment mean that every serious dramatist should always be aiming at psychological exploration4 ,the character-drawer's appeal to common knowledge and instant recognition is often all that is required1 or that would be in place4 ,but there are also occasions not a few when the dramatist shows himself unequal to his opportunities if he does not at least attempt to bring hitherto unrecorded or unscrutinized phases of character within the scope of our understanding and our sympathies4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,if this runs counter to the latest biological orthodoxy1 ,i am sorry4 ,habits are at any rate transmissible by imitation1 if not otherwise4 ,footnote #b3 ,chapter ,,xix4 ,,chapter ,,xxiii ,,dialogue ,,and ,,details ,the extraordinary progress made by the drama of the ,english language during the past quarter of a century is in nothing more apparent than in the average quality of modern dialogue4 ,tolerably well-written dialogue is nowadays the rule rather than the exception4 ,thirty years ago1 the idea that it was possible to combine naturalness with vivacity and vigour had scarcely dawned upon the playwright's mind4 ,he passed and repassed from stilted pathos to strained and verbal wit 7often mere punning72 and when a reformer like ,t4,w4 ,robertson tried to come a little nearer to the truth of life1 he was apt to fall into babyish simplicity or flat commonness4 ,criticism has not given sufficient weight to the fact that ,english dramatic writing laboured for centuries--and still labours to some degree--under a historic misfortune4 ,it has never wholly recovered from the euphuism--to use the word in its widest sense--of the late sixteenth century4 ,the influence of ,john ,lyly and his tribe is still traceable1 despite a hundred metamorphoses1 in some of the plays of to-day and in many of the plays of yesterday4 ,from the very beginnings of ,english comedy1 it was accepted as almost self-evident that wit--a factitious1 supererogatory sparkle--was indispensable to all dialogue of a non-tragic order4 ,language was a newly discovered and irresistibly fascinating playground for the fancy4 ,conversation must be thick-strewn with verbal quibbles1 similes1 figures1 and flourishes of every description1 else it was unworthy to be spoken on the stage4 ,we all know how freely ,shakespeare yielded to this convention1 and so helped to establish it4 ,sometimes1 not always1 his genius enabled him to render it delightful2 but in most of the ,elizabethans--though it be heresy to say so--it is an extremely tedious mannerism4 ,after the ,restoration1 when modern light talk came into being in the coffee-houses1 the fashion of the day1 no doubt1 favoured a straining after wit2 so that the playwrights were in some measure following nature--that very small corner of nature which they called the town--in accepting and making a law of the ,elizabethan convention4 ,the leading characters of ,restoration comedy1 from ,etherege to ,vanbrugh1 are consciously and almost professionally wits4 ,simile and repartee are as indispensable a part of a gentleman's social outfit as his wig or his rapier4 ,in ,congreve the word wit is almost as common as the thing4 ,when ,farquhar made some movement towards a return to nature1 he was rewarded with ,pope's line1 which clings like a burr to his memory-- ,what pert1 low dialogue has ,farquhar writ4 ,if eighteenth-century comedy1 as a whole1 is not brilliantly written1 it is for lack of talent in the playwrights1 not for lack of desire or intention4 ,goldsmith1 like ,farquhar and ,steele1 vaguely realized the superiority of humour to wit2 but he died too early to exercise much influence on his successors4 ,in ,sheridan the convention of wit reasserted itself triumphantly1 and the scene in which ,lady ,teazle1 ,mrs4 ,candour1 and the rest of the scandalous college sit in a semicircle and cap malicious similes1 came to be regarded as an unapproachable model of comedy dialogue4 ,the convention maintained itself firmly down to the days of ,money and ,london ,assurance1 the dullness of the intervening period being due1 not to any change of theory1 but to sheer impotence of practice4 ,t4,w4 ,robertson1 as above mentioned1 attempted a return to nature1 with occasional and very partial success2 but wit1 with a dash of fanciful sentiment1 reasserted itself in ,james ,albery2 while in ,h4,j4 ,byron it degenerated into mere punning and verbal horse-play4 ,i should not be surprised if the historian of the future were to find in the plays of ,mr4 ,henry ,arthur ,jones the first marked symptoms of a reaction--of a tendency to reject extrinsic and fanciful ornament in dialogue1 and to rely for its effect upon its vivid appropriateness to character and situation4 ,in the early plays of ,sir ,arthur ,pinero there is a great deal of extrinsic ornament2 especially of that metaphor-hunting which was one of the characteristic forms of euphuism4 ,take this1 for example1 from ,the ,profligate4 ,dunstan ,renshaw has expressed to ,hugh ,murray the opinion that marriages of contentment are the reward of husbands who have taken the precaution to sow their wild oats rather thickly2 whereupon the ,scotch solicitor replies-- ,,hugh ,,murray3 ,contentment6 ,renshaw1 do you imagine that there is no autumn in the life of a profligate8 ,do you think there is no moment when the accursed crop begins to rear its millions of heads above ground2 when the rich man would give his wealth to be able to tread them back into the earth which rejects the foul load8 ,to-day you have robbed some honest man of a sweet companion6 ,,dunstan ,,renshaw3 ,look here1 ,mr4 ,murray--6 ,,hugh ,,murray3 ,to-morrow1 next week1 next month1 you may be happy--but what of the time when those wild oats thrust their ears through the very seams of the floor trodden by the wife whose respect you will have learned to covet6 ,you may drag her into the crowded streets--there is the same vile growth springing up from the chinks of the pavement6 ,in your house or in the open1 the scent of the mildewed grain always in your nostrils1 and in your ears no music but the wind's rustle amongst the fat sheaves6 ,and1 worst of all1 your wife's heart a granary bursting with the load of shame your profligacy has stored there6 ,i warn you--,mr4 ,lawrence ,kenward6 ,if we compare this passage with any page taken at random from ,mid-,channel1 we might think that a century of evolution lay between them1 instead of barely twenty years4 ,the convention of wit-at-any-price is1 indeed1 moribund2 but it is perhaps not quite superfluous1 even now1 to emphasize the difference between what the ,french call the mot d'auteur and the mot de situation4 ,the terms practically explain themselves2 but a third class ought to be added--the mot de caractre4 ,the mot d'auteur is the distinguishing mark of the ,congreve-,sheridan convention4 ,it survives in full vigour--or1 shall one say1 it sings its swan-song8--in the works of ,oscar ,wilde4 ,for instance1 the scene of the five men in the third act of ,lady ,windermere's ,fan is a veritable running-fire of epigrams wholly unconnected with the situation1 and very slightly related1 if at all1 to the characters of the speakers4 ,the mark of the mot d'auteur is that it can with perfect ease be detached from its context4 ,i could fill this page with sayings from the scene in question1 all perfectly comprehensible without any account of the situation4 ,among them would be one of those2 profound sayings which ,wilde now and then threw off in his lightest moods1 like opals among soap-bubbles4 ,in the world1 says ,dumby1 there are two tragedies4 ,one is not getting what one wants1 and the other is getting it4 ,this may rank with ,lord ,illingworth's speech in ,a ,woman of ,no ,importance3 ,all thought is immoral4 ,its very essence is destruction4 ,if you think of anything you kill it4 ,nothing survives being thought of4 ,when we hear such sayings as these--or the immortal ,vulgarity is the behaviour of other people--we do not enquire too curiously into their appropriateness to character or situation2 but none the less do they belong to an antiquated conception of drama4 ,it is useless to begin to give specimens of the mot de caractre and mot de situation4 ,all really dramatic dialogue falls under one head or the other4 ,one could easily pick out a few brilliantly effective examples of each class3 but as their characteristic is to fade when uprooted from the soil in which they grow1 they would take up space to very little purpose4 ,but there is another historic influence1 besides that of euphuism1 which has been hurtful1 though in a minor degree1 to the development of a sound style in dialogue4 ,some of the later ,elizabethans1 and notably ,webster and ,ford1 cultivated a fashion of abrupt utterance1 whereby an immensity of spiritual significance--generally tragic--was supposed to be concentrated into a few brief words4 ,the classic example is ,ferdinand's ,cover her face4 ,mine eyes dazzle4 ,she died young1 in ,the ,duchess of ,malfy4 ,charles ,lamb celebrated the virtues of this pregnant1 staccato style with somewhat immoderate admiration1 and thus helped to set a fashion of spasmodic pithiness in dialogue1 which too often resulted in dense obscurity4 ,not many plays composed under this influence have reached the stage2 not one has held it4 ,but we find in some recent writing a qualified recrudescence of the spasmodic manner1 with a touch of euphuism thrown in4 ,this is mainly due1 ,i think1 to the influence of ,george ,meredith1 who accepted the convention of wit as the informing spirit of comedy dialogue1 and whose abnormally rapid faculty of association led him to delight in a sort of intellectual shorthand which the normal mind finds very difficult to decipher4 ,meredith was a man of brilliant genius1 which lent a fascination to his very mannerisms2 but when these mannerisms are transferred by lesser men to a medium much less suited to them--that of the stage--the result is apt to be disastrous4 ,i need not go into particulars2 for no play of which the dialogue places a constant strain on the intellectual muscles of the audience ever has held1 or ever will hold1 a place in living dramatic literature4 ,i will merely note the curious fact that ,english--my own language--is the only language out of the three or four known to me in which ,i have ever come across an entirely incomprehensible play4 ,i could name ,english plays1 both pre-,meredithian and post-,meredithian1 which might almost as well be written in ,chinese for all that ,i can make of them4 ,obscurity and precocity are generally symptoms of an exaggerated dread of the commonplace4 ,the writer of dramatic prose has1 indeed1 a very difficult task if he is to achieve style without deserting nature4 ,perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the difficulty lies in getting criticism to give him credit for the possession of style1 without incurring the reproach of mannerism4 ,how is one to give concentration and distinction to ordinary talk1 while making it still seem ordinary8 ,either the distinction will strike the critics1 and they will call it pompous and unreal1 or the ordinariness will come home to them1 and they will deny the distinction4 ,this is the dramatist's constant dilemma4 ,one can only comfort him with the assurance that if he has given his dialogue the necessary concentration1 and has yet kept it plausibly near to the language of life1 he has achieved style1 and may snap his fingers at the critics4 ,style1 in prose drama1 is the sifting of common speech4 ,it is true1 however1 that1 with equal concentration and equal naturalness1 one man may give his work a beauty of cadence and phrasing which another man may entirely miss4 ,two recent writers of ,english dramatic prose have stood out from their fellows in respect of the sheer beauty of their style--,i need scarcely name ,oscar ,wilde and ,j4,m4 ,synge4 ,but ,wilde's dialogue can by no means be called free from mannerism1#a while ,synge wrote in a language which had a music of its own1 even before his genius took hold of it4 ,it does not seem very profitable to try to concentrate into a definition the distinctive qualities of dramatic dialogue4 ,the late ,mrs4 ,craigie 7,john ,oliver ,hobbes7 attempted to do so in the preface to a charming play1 ,the ,ambassador2 and the result at any rate the sequel--was that her next play1 ,the ,wisdom of the ,wise1 was singularly self-conscious and artificial4 ,she found in emotion the test of dramatic quality in any given utterance4 ,stage dialogue1 she says1 may or may not have many qualities1 but it must be emotional4 ,here we have a statement which is true in a vague and general sense1 untrue in the definite and particular sense in which alone it could afford any practical guidance4 ,my lord1 the carriage waits1 may be1 in its right place1 a highly dramatic speech1 even though it be uttered with no emotion1 and arouse no emotion in the person addressed4 ,what ,mrs4 ,craigie meant1 ,i take it1 was that1 to be really dramatic1 every speech must have some bearing1 direct or indirect1 prospective1 present1 or retrospective1 upon individual human destinies4 ,the dull play1 the dull scene1 the dull speech1 is that in which we do not perceive this connection2 but when once we are interested in the individuals concerned1 we are so quick to perceive the connection1 even though it be exceedingly distant and indirect1 that the dramatist who should always hold the fear of ,mrs4 ,craigie's aphorism consciously before his eyes would unnecessarily fetter and restrict himself4 ,even the driest scientific proposition may1 under special circumstances1 become electrical with drama4 ,the statement that the earth moves round the sun does not1 in itself1 stir our pulses2 yet what playwright has ever invented a more dramatic utterance than that which some one invented for ,galileo3 ,e pur si muove68 ,in all this1 to be sure1 ,i am illustrating1 not confuting1 ,mrs4 ,craigie's maxim4 ,i have no wish to confute it1 for1 in the largest interpretation1 it is true2 but ,i suggest that it is true only when attenuated almost beyond recognition1 and quite beyond the point at which it can be of any practical help to the practical dramatist4 ,he must rely on his instinct1 not numb and bewilder it by constantly subjecting it to the dictates of hard-and-fast aesthetic theory4 ,we shall scarcely come much nearer to helpful truth than the point we have already reached1 in the principle that all dialogue1 except the merely mechanical parts--the connective tissue of the play--should consist either of mots de caractre or of mots de situation4 ,but if we go to ,french critics for this principle1 do not let us go to ,french dramatists for models of practice4 ,it is part of the abiding insularity of our criticism that the same writers who cannot forgive an ,english dramatist what they conceive to be a stilted turn of phrase1 will pass without remark1 if not with positive admiration1 the outrageously rhetorical style which is still prevalent in ,french drama4 ,here1 for instance1 is a quite typical passage from ,le ,duel1 by ,m4 ,henri ,lavedan1 an author of no small repute2 and it would be easy to find even more magniloquent tirades in the works of almost any of his contemporaries4 ,i translate from the concluding scene between the ,abb and the ,duchess3 ,,the ,,abb3 ,in our strange life1 there are sometimes unexpected and decisive moments1 sovereign1 though we know not why4 ,we feel it1 that is all6--fulgurant moments1 which throw1 as it were1 a flash of lightning upon our destinies1 like those meteors which shine forth from time to time in the heavens1 and of which none can say what their purple signifies1 whether it be a cataclysm or an apotheosis4 ,well1 it appears to me that we1 you and ,i1 are now face to face with one of these moments6 ,,the ,,duchess3 ,so ,i1 too1 believe4 ,,the ,,abb3 ,we must take care1 then1 that it be an apotheosis4 ,that is why ,i want--,mon ,dieu1 madame6 how shall ,i say it to you8 ,where shall ,i go to find the chosen words1 the words of pure gold1 of diamonds1 the immaculate words that are worthy of us8 ,all that you are1 all that you are worth1 ,i know1 and ,i alone know4 ,you have opened1 that ,i might read it1 the book of hours that is your mind4 ,i am in no wise disquieted about you or your future2 yet1 that ,i may be fully reassured before we part1 ,i wish1 ,i wish you to tell me1 to declare to me1 that you are at this very moment in absolute repose1 calm as a lake4 ,and so ,monsieur l',abb goes on for another page4 ,if it be said that this ornate eloquence is merely professional1 ,i reply that his brother1 the atheist doctor1 and the ,duchess herself1 are quite as copious in their rhetoric1 and scarcely less ornate4 ,it is a mistake to suppose that literary merit can be imparted to drama by such flagrant departures from nature2 though some critics have not yet outgrown that superstition4 ,let the playwright take to heart an anecdote told by ,professor ,matthews in his ,inquiries and ,opinions--an anecdote of a ,new ,england farmer1 who1 being asked who was the architect of his house1 replied3 ,oh1 ,i built that house myself2 but there's a man coming down from ,boston next week to put on the architecture4 ,better no style at all than style thus plastered on4 99 99 99 99 99 ,what is to be said of the possibilities of blank verse as a dramatic medium8 ,this is a thorny question1 to be handled with caution4 ,one can say with perfect assurance1 however1 that its possibilities are problematical1 its difficulties and dangers certain4 ,to discuss the question whether drama in verse is in its very nature nobler than drama in prose would lead us away from craftsmanship into the realm of pure aesthetics4 ,for my own part1 ,i doubt it4 ,i suspect that the drama1 like all literature1 took its rise in verse1 for the simple reason that verse is easier to make--and to memorize--than prose4 ,primitive peoples felt with ,goethe--though not quite in the same sense--that art is art because it is not nature4 ,not merely for emotional1 but for all sorts of literary1 expression1 they demanded a medium clearly marked off from the speech of everyday life4 ,the drama lisped in numbers1 for the numbers came4 ,even of so modern a writer 7comparatively7 as ,shakespeare1 it would scarcely be true to say that he chose verse as his medium1 in the same sense in which ,ibsen chose prose4 ,he accepted it just as he accepted the other traditions and methods of the theatre of his time4 ,in familiar passages he broke away from it2 but on the whole it provided 7among other advantages7 a convenient and even necessary means of differentiation between the mimic personage and the audience1 from whom he was not marked off by the proscenium arch and the artificial lights which make a world apart of the modern stage4 ,and ,shakespeare so glorified this metrical medium as to give it an overwhelming prestige4 ,it was extremely easy to write blank verse after a fashion2 and playwrights who found it flow almost spontaneously from their pens were only too ready to overlook the world-wide difference between their verse and that of the really great ,elizabethans4 ,just after the ,restoration1 there was an attempt to introduce the rhymed couplet as the medium for heroic plays2 but that1 on the other hand1 was too difficult to establish itself in general use4 ,tragedy soon fell back upon the fatally facile unrhymed iambic1 and a reign of stilted1 stodgy mediocrity set in4 ,there is nothing drearier in literature than the century-and-a-half of ,english tragedy1 from ,otway to ,sheridan ,knowles4 ,one is lost in wonder at the genius of the actors who could infuse life and passion into those masterpieces of turgid conventionality4 ,the worship of the minor ,elizabethans1 which began with ,lamb and culminated in ,swinburne1 brought into fashion 7as we have seen7 a spasmodic rather than a smoothly rhetorical way of writing1 but did not really put new life into the outworn form4 ,it may almost be called an appalling fact that for at least two centuries--from #agjj to #aijj--not a single blank-verse play was produced which lives1 or deserves to live1#b on the stage of to-day4 ,i have thus glanced at the history of the blank-verse play because ,i believe that it can never revive until we clearly realize and admit that it is1 and has been for a century1 thoroughly dead1 while1 for a century before that again1 it was only galvanized into a semblance of life by a great school of rhetorical acting4 ,the playwright who sets forth with the idea that1 in writing a poetical drama1 he is going to continue the great ,elizabethan tradition1 is starting on a wild-goose chase4 ,the great ,elizabethan tradition is an incubus to be exorcised4 ,it was because ,mr4 ,stephen ,phillips was not ,elizabethanizing1 but clothing a vital and personal conception of drama in verse of very appealing lyrical quality1 that some of us thought we saw in ,paolo and ,francesca the dawn of a new art4 ,apparently it was a false dawn2 but ,i still believe that our orientation was right when we looked for the daybreak in the lyric quarter of the heavens4 ,the very summits of ,shakespeare's achievement are his glorious lyrical passages4 ,think of the exquisite elegiacs of ,macbeth6 ,think of the immortal death-song of ,cleopatra6 ,if verse has any function on the stage1 it is that of imparting lyric beauty to passionate speech4 ,for the mere rhetorical elevation of blank verse we have no use whatever4 ,it consists in saying simple things with verbose pomposity4 ,but should there arise a man who combines highly-developed dramatic faculty with great lyric genius1 it is quite possible that he may give us the new poetic drama for which our idealists are sighing4 ,he will choose his themes1 ,i take it1 from legend1 or from the domain of pure fantasy--themes which can be steeped from first to last in an atmosphere of poetry1 as ,tristan und ,isolde is steeped in an atmosphere of music4 ,of historic themes1 ,i would counsel this hypothetical genius to beware4 ,if there are any which can fittingly be steeped in a lyric atmosphere1 they are to be sought on the outskirts of history1 or in the debatable land between history and legend4 ,the formula of ,schiller can no more be revived than the formula of ,chapman or of ,rowe4 ,that a new historic drama awaits us in the future1 ,i have little doubt2 but it will be written in prose4 ,the idea that the poetry of drama is to be sought specifically in verse has long ago been exploded by ,ibsen and ,maeterlinck and ,d',annunzio and ,synge4 ,but there are1 no doubt1 themes which peculiarly lend themselves to lyrico-dramatic treatment1 and we shall all welcome the poet who discovers and develops them4 ,one warning let me add1 in no uncertain voice4 ,if you choose to write a blank-verse play1 write it in blank verse1 and not in some nondescript rhythm which is one long series of jolts and pitfalls to the sensitive ear4 ,many playwrights have thought by this means to escape from the monotony of blank verse2 not one 7that ,i ever heard of7 has achieved even temporary success4 ,if you cannot save your blank verse from monotony without breaking it on the wheel1 that merely means that you cannot write blank verse1 and had better let it alone4 ,again1 in spite of ,elizabethan precedent1 there is nothing more irritating on the modern stage than a play which keeps on changing from verse to prose and back again4 ,it gives the verse-passages an air of pompous self-consciousness4 ,we seem to hear the author saying1 as he shifts his gear1 ,look you now6 ,i am going to be eloquent and impressive6 ,the most destructive fault a dramatist can commit1 in my judgment1 is to pass1 in the same work of art1 from one plane of convention to another4#c 99 99 99 99 99 ,we must now consider for a moment the question--if question it can be called--of the soliloquy and the aside4 ,the example of ,ibsen has gone far towards expelling these slovenlinesses from the work of all self-respecting playwrights4 ,but theorists spring up every now and then to defend them4 ,the stage is the realm of convention1 they argue4 ,if you accept a room with its fourth wall removed1 which nothing short of an earthquake could render possible in real life1 why should you jib at the idea--in which1 after all1 there is nothing absolutely impossible--that a man should utter aloud the thoughts that are passing through his mind8 ,it is all a question1 once more1 of planes of convention4 ,no doubt there is an irreducible minimum of convention in all drama2 but how strange is the logic which leaps from that postulate to the assertion that1 if we admit a minimum1 we cannot1 or ought not to1 exclude a maximum6 ,there are plays which do not1 and there are plays which do1 set forth to give as nearly as possible an exact reproduction of the visual and auditory realities of life4 ,in the ,elizabethan theatre1 with its platform stage under the open sky1 any pictorial exactness of reproduction was clearly impossible4 ,its fundamental conditions necessitated very nearly#d a maximum of convention2 therefore such conventions as blank verse and the soliloquy were simply of a piece with all the rest4 ,in the theatre of the eighteenth century and early nineteenth1 the proscenium arch--the frame of the picture--made pictorial realism theoretically possible4 ,but no one recognized the possibility2 and indeed1 on a candle-lit stage1 it would have been extremely difficult4 ,as a matter of fact1 the ,elizabethan platform survived in the shape of a long apron1 projecting in front of the proscenium1 on which the most important parts of the action took place4 ,the characters1 that is to say1 were constantly stepping out of the frame of the picture2 and while this visual convention maintained itself1 there was nothing inconsistent or jarring in the auditory convention of the soliloquy4 ,only in the last quarter of the nineteenth century did new methods of lighting1 combined with new literary and artistic influences1 complete the evolutionary process1 and lead to the withdrawal of the whole stage--the whole dramatic domain--within the frame of the picture4 ,it was thus possible to reduce visual convention to a minimum so trifling that in a well-set interior it needs a distinct effort of attention to be conscious of it at all4 ,in fact1 if we come to think of it1 the removal of the fourth wall is scarcely to be classed as a convention2 for in real life1 as we do not happen to have eyes in the back of our heads1 we are never visually conscious of all four walls of a room at once4 ,if1 then1 in a room that is absolutely real1 we see a man who 7in all other respects7 strives to be equally real1 suddenly begin to expound himself aloud1 in good1 set terms1 his own emotions1 motives1 or purposes1 we instantly plump down from one plane of convention to another1 and receive a disagreeable jar to our sense of reality4 ,up to that moment1 all the efforts of author1 producer1 and actor have centred in begetting in us a particular order of illusion2 and lo6 the effort is suddenly abandoned1 and the illusion shattered by a crying unreality4 ,in modern serious drama1 therefore1 the soliloquy can only be regarded as a disturbing anachronism4#e ,the physical conditions which tended to banish it from the stage were reinforced by the growing perception of its artistic slovenliness4 ,it was found that the most delicate analyses could be achieved without its aid2 and it became a point of honour with the self-respecting artist to accept a condition which rendered his material somewhat harder of manipulation1 indeed1 but all the more tempting to wrestle with and overcome4 ,a drama with soliloquies and asides is like a picture with inscribed labels issuing from the mouths of the figures4 ,in that way1 any bungler can reveal what is passing in the minds of his personages4 ,but the glorious problem of the modern playwright is to make his characters reveal the inmost workings of their souls without saying or doing anything that they would not say or do in the real world4#f ,there are degrees1 however1 even in the makeshift and the slovenly2 and not all lapses into anachronism are equally to be condemned4 ,one thing is so patent as to call for no demonstration3 to wit1 that the aside is ten times worse than the soliloquy4 ,it is always possible that a man might speak his thought1 but it is glaringly impossible that he should speak it so as to be heard by the audience and not heard by others on the stage4 ,in ,french light comedy and farce of the mid-nineteenth century1 the aside is abused beyond even the license of fantasy4 ,a man will speak an aside of several lines over the shoulder of another person whom he is embracing4 ,not infrequently in a conversation between two characters1 each will comment aside on every utterance of the other1 before replying to it4 ,the convenience of this method of proceeding is manifest4 ,it is as though the author stood by and delivered a running commentary on the secret motives and designs of his characters4 ,but it is such a crying confession of unreality that1 on the ,english-speaking stage1 at any rate1 it would scarcely be tolerated to-day1 even in farce4 ,in serious modern drama the aside is now practically unknown4 ,it is so obsolete1 indeed1 that actors are puzzled how to handle it1 and audiences what to make of it4 ,in an ambitious play produced at a leading ,london theatre about ten years ago1 a lady1 on leaving the stage1 announced1 in an aside1 her intention of drowning herself1 and several critics1 the next day1 not understanding that she was speaking aside1 severely blamed the gentleman who was on the stage with her for not frustrating her intention4 ,about the same time1 there occurred one of the most glaring instances within my recollection of inept conventionalism4 ,the hero of the play was ,eugene ,aram4 ,alone in his room at dead of night1 ,aram heard ,houseman breaking open the outside shutters of the window4 ,designing to entrap the robber1 what did he do8 ,he went up to the window and drew back the curtains1 with a noise loud enough to be heard in the next parish4 ,it was inaudible1 however1 to ,houseman on the other side of the shutters4 ,he proceeded with his work1 opened the window1 and slipped in1 ,aram hiding in the shadow4 ,then1 while ,houseman peered about him with his lantern1 not six feet from ,aram1 and actually between him and the audience1 ,aram indulged in a long and loud monologue as to whether he should shoot ,houseman or not1 ending with a prayer to heaven to save him from more blood-guiltiness6 ,such are the childish excesses to which a playwright will presently descend when once he begins to dally with facile convention4 ,an aside is intolerable because it is not heard by the other person on the stage3 it outrages physical possibility4 ,an overheard soliloquy1 on the other hand1 is intolerable because it is heard4 ,it keeps within the bounds of physical possibility1 but it stultifies the only logical excuse for the soliloquy1 namely1 that it is an externalization of thought which would in reality remain unuttered4 ,this point is so clear that ,i need not insist upon it4 ,are there1 in modern drama1 any admissible soliloquies8 ,a few brief ejaculations of joy1 or despair1 are1 of course1 natural enough1 and no one will cavil at them4 ,the approach of mental disease is often marked by a tendency to unrestrained loquacity1 which goes on even while the sufferer is alone2 and this distressing symptom may1 on rare occasions1 be put to artistic use4 ,short of actual derangement1 however1 there are certain states of nervous surexcitation which cause even healthy people to talk to themselves2 and if an author has the skill to make us realize that his character is passing through such a crisis1 he may risk a soliloquy1 not only without reproach1 but with conspicuous psychological justification4 ,in the third act of ,clyde ,fitch's play1 ,the ,girl with the ,green ,eyes1 there is a daring attempt at such a soliloquy1 where ,jinny says3 ,good ,heavens6 why am ,i maudling on like this to myself out loud8 ,it's really nothing--,jack will explain once more that he can't explain--and so on4 ,whether the attempt justified itself or not would depend largely on the acting4 ,in any case1 it is clear that the author1 though as a rule somewhat lax in his craftsmanship1 was here aiming at psychological truth4 ,a word must be said as to a special case of the soliloquy--the letter which a person speaks aloud as he writes it1 or reads over to himself aloud4 ,this is a convention to be employed as sparingly as possible2 but it is not exactly on a level with the ordinary soliloquy4 ,a letter has an actual objective existence4 ,the words are formulated in the character's mind and are supposed to be externalized1 even though the actor may not really write them on the paper4 ,thus the letter has1 so to speak1 the same right to come to the knowledge of the audience as any other utterance4 ,it is1 in fact1 part of the dialogue of the play1 only that it happens to be inaudible4 ,a soliloquy1 on the other hand1 has no real existence4 ,it is a purely artificial unravelling of motive or emotion1 which1 nine times out of ten1 would not become articulate at all1 even in the speaker's brain or heart4 ,thus it is by many degrees a greater infraction of the surface texture of life than the spoken letter1 which we may call inadvisable rather than inadmissible4 ,some theorists carry their solicitude for surface reality to such an extreme as to object to any communication between two characters which is not audible to every one on the stage4 ,this is a very idle pedantry4 ,the difference between a conversation in undertones and a soliloquy or aside is abundantly plain3 the one occurs every hour of the day1 the other never occurs at all4 ,when two people1 or a group1 are talking among themselves1 unheard by the others on the stage1 it requires a special effort to remember that1 as a matter of fact1 the others probably do hear them4 ,even if the scene be unskilfully arranged1 it is not the audibility of one group1 but the inaudibility of the others1 that is apt to strike us as unreal4 99 99 99 99 99 ,this is not the only form of technical pedantry that one occasionally encounters4 ,some years ago1 a little band of playwrights and would-be playwrights1 in fanatical reaction against the ,sardou technique1 tried to lay down a rule that no room on the stage must ever have more than one door1 and that no letter must ever enter into the mechanism of a play4 ,i do not know which contention was the more ridiculous4 ,nothing is commoner in modern house-planning than rooms which have at least two doors and a ,french window4 ,we constantly see rooms or halls which1 if transported to the stage1 would provide three or four entrances and exits2 and this is even more true of the central heated houses of ,america than of ,english houses4 ,the technical purists used especially to despise the ,french window--a harmless1 agreeable and very common device4 ,why the playwright should make one room one door an inexorable canon of art is more than human reason can divine4 ,there are cases1 no doubt1 in which probability demands that the dramatist should be content with one practicable opening to his scene1 and should plan his entrances and exits accordingly4 ,this is no such great feat as might be imagined4 ,indeed a playwright will sometimes deliberately place a particular act in a room with one door1 because it happens to facilitate the movement he desires4 ,it is absurd to lay down any rule in the matter1 other than that the scene should provide a probable locality for whatever action is to take place in it4 ,i am the last to defend the old ,french farce with its ten or a dozen doors through which the characters kept scuttling in and out like rabbits in a warren4 ,but the fact that we are tired of conventional laxity is no good reason for rushing to the other extreme of conventional and hampering austerity4 ,similarly1 because the forged will and the lost marriage lines have been rightly relegated to melodrama1 is there any reason why we should banish from the stage every form of written document8 ,mr4 ,bernard ,shaw1 in an article celebrating the advent of the new technique1 once wrote1 ,nowadays an actor cannot open a letter or toss off somebody else's glass of poison without having to face a brutal outburst of jeering4 ,what an extravagance to bracket as equally exploded absurdities the opening of a letter and the tossing off of the wrong glass of poison6 ,letters--more's the pity--play a gigantic part in the economy of modern life4 ,the ,general ,post ,office is a vast mechanism for the distribution of tragedy1 comedy1 melodrama1 and farce throughout the country and throughout the world4 ,to whose door has not ,destiny come in the disguise of a postman1 and slipped its decree1 with a double rat-tat1 into the letter-box8 ,whose heart has not sickened as he heard the postman's footstep pass his door without pausing8 ,whose hand has not trembled as he opened a letter8 ,whose face has not blanched as he took in its import1 almost without reading the words8 ,why1 ,i would fain know1 should our stage-picture of life be falsified by the banishment of the postman8 ,even the revelation brought about by the discovery of a forgotten letter or bundle of letters is not an infrequent incident of daily life4 ,why should it be tabu on the stage8 ,because the ,french dramatist1 forty years ago1 would sometimes construct a ,chinese-puzzle play around some stolen letter or hidden document1 are we to suffer no scrap of paper to play any part whatever in ,english drama8 ,even the ,hebrew sense of justice would recoil from such a conclusion4 ,it would be a case of ,the fathers have eaten sour grapes1 and other people's children must pay the penalty4 ,against such whimsies of reactionary purism1 the playwright's sole and sufficient safeguard is a moderate exercise of common sense4 99 99 99 99 99 ,footnote #a3 ,so1 too1 with the style of ,congreve4 ,it is much1 and justly1 admired2 but who does not feel more than a touch of mannerism in such a passage as this8-- ,,millamant3 444 ,let us never visit together1 nor go to a play together2 but let us be very strange and well-bred3 let us be as strange as if we had been married a great while2 and as well-bred as if we were not married at all4 ,,mirabell3 ,have you any more conditions to offer8 ,hitherto your demands are pretty reasonable4 ,,millamant3 ,trifles6--as liberty to pay and receive visits to and from whom ,i please2 to write and receive letters1 without interrogatories or wry faces on your part2 to wear what ,i please2 and choose conversation with regard only to my own taste2 to have no obligation upon me to converse with wits that ,i don't like because they are your acquaintances2 or to be intimate with fools because they may be your relatives4444 ,these articles subscribed1 if ,i continue to endure you a little longer1 ,i may by degrees dwindle into a wife4 ,this is very pretty prose1 granted2 but it is the prose of literature1 not of life4 ,footnote #b3 ,from the fact that ,i do not make an exception in favour of ,the ,blot in the ,scutcheon or ,stratford1 ,i must leave the reader to draw what inference he pleases4 ,on the other hand1 ,i believe that a reconstruction of ,tennyson's ,queen ,mary1 with a few connecting links written in1 might take a permanent place in the theatre4 ,footnote #c3 ,mr4 ,israel ,zangwill1 in his symbolic play1 ,the ,war-,god1 has put blank verse to what ,i believe to be a new use1 with noteworthy success4 ,he writes in very strict measure1 but without the least inversion or inflation1 without a touch of ,elizabethan1 or conventionally poetic1 diction4 ,he is thus enabled to use the most modern expressions1 and even slang1 without incongruity2 while at the same time he can give rhetorical movement to the speeches of his symbolic personages1 and1 in passages of argument1 can achieve that clash of measured phrase against measured phrase which the ,greeks called stichomythy1 and which the ,french dramatist sometimes produces in rapid rapier play with the ,alexandrine4 ,mr4 ,zangwill's practice is in absolute contradiction of the principle above suggested that blank verse1 to be justified in drama1 ought to be lyrical4 ,his verse is a product of pure intellect and wit1 without a single lyric accent4 ,it is measured prose2 if it ever tries to be more1 it fails4 ,i think1 then1 that he has shown a new use for blank verse1 in rhetorico-symbolic drama4 ,but it is no small literary feat to handle the measure as he does4 ,footnote #d3 ,not quite4 ,the drama of some ,oriental peoples recognizes conventions which the ,elizabethans did not admit4 ,footnote #e3 ,a conversation on the telephone often provides a convenient and up-to-date substitute for a soliloquy2 but that is an expedient which ought not to be abused4 ,footnote #f3 ,the soliloquy is often not only slovenly1 but a gratuitous and unnecessary slovenliness4 ,in ,les ,corbeaux1 by ,henry ,becque1 produced in #ahhi1 there occur two soliloquies--one by ,teissier 7,act ii1 ,scene #c71 the other by ,madame de ,saint-,genis 7,act in1 ,scene #aj7--;either or both of which could be omitted without leaving any sensible gap4 ,the latter is wholly superfluous1 the former conveys some information which might have been taken for granted1 and could1 in any case1 have been conveyed without difficulty in some other way4 ,yet ,becque was1 in his day1 regarded as a quite advanced technician4