ey
could be written by the author, who cannot figure out in advance
how much may be said, and how long the talk may last, without
waking the public out of their illusions.

It is well known that, on certain stages, the Italian theatre has
returned to improvisation and thereby produced creative actors--
who, however, must follow the author's suggestions--and this may be
counted a step forward, or even the beginning of a new art form
that might well be called _productive_.

Where, on the other hand, the monologue would seem unreal, I have
used the pantomime, and there I have left still greater scope for
the actor's imagination--and for his desire to gain independent
honours. But in order that the public may not be tried beyond
endurance, I have permitted the music--which is amply warranted by
the Midsummer Eve's dance--to exercise its illusory power while the
dumb show lasts. And I ask the musical director to make careful
selection of the music used for this purpose, so that incompatible
moods are not induced by reminiscences from the last musical comedy
or topical song, or by folk-tunes of too markedly ethnographical
distinction.

The mere introduction of a scene with a lot of "people" could not
have taken the place of the dance, for such scenes are poorly acted
and tempt a number of grinning idiots into displaying their own
smartness, whereby the illusion is disturbed. As the common people
do not improvise their gibes, but use ready-made phrases in which
stick some double meaning, I have not composed their lampooning
song, but have appropriated a little known folk-dance which I
personally noted down in a district near Stockholm. The words don't
quite hit the point, but hint vaguely at it, and this is
intentional, for the cunning (i. e., weakness) of the slave keeps
him from any direct attack. There must, then, be no chattering
clowns in a serious action, and no coarse flouting at a situation
that puts the lid on the coffin of a whole family.

As far as the scenery is concerned, I have borrowed from
impressionistic painting its asymmetry, its quality of abruptness,
and have thereby in my opinion strengthened the illusion. Because
the whole room and all its contents are not shown, there is a
chance to guess at things--that is, our imagination is stirred into
complementing our vision. I have made a further gain in getting rid
of those tiresome exits by means of doors, especially as stage
doors are made of canvas and