theme."
Thomas's interesting prefaces suggest this limitation in him, whether
it be a psychic subject he is to handle or an historical period he is
to cover. His manner of cogitating a theme has always been in terms of
the theatre, and he is willing to curtail any part of his theme for
a "point." His explanation, therefore, of the growth of detail, while
lacking in the high seriousness of Poe's explanation how he conceived
"The Raven," has nevertheless the same mathematical precision about
it. In other words, Thomas plays the theatre as Steinitz played chess,
with certain recognized openings and certain stated values to the
characters. We doubt whether, if the truth were told, many changes
ever occur, once a Thomas scenario is planned. His whole game is to
capture as many of his audience as he can by strategy, to checkmate
them by any legitimate theatrical move, regardless of tenability of
subject, and in despite of truth. Hence, when he fitted up "Arizona"
in clothes to suit recent Mexican complications, and called his play
"Rio Grande," he found he had lost the early sincerity of "Alabama,"
and his raciness was swamped in an apparent sophistication which only
added to his artificial method of conceiving a plot.
He has, therefore, played the theatrical game with love for it, with
thorough understanding of it--and though political preferment in the
Democratic Party has been offered him many times, he has thus far not
deserted the theatre. As the years advance, he does not seem to lose
any of his dexterity; on the other hand, he does not show inclination
to be stirred in his plays by the social problems of the day.
When "The Witching Hour" showed a departure into realms of subtle
psychology, we thought Thomas, as a playwright, had passed into the
realm of wisdom; but his introduction to that play reveals the fact
that, once, he was press-agent for a thought-reader. So it was
the "showman" aspect of the subject which led him to read up on
auto-hypnosis. It was not so much conviction as picturesqueness which
prompted him to write, in 1890, the one-act psychic sketch which
afterwards became the longer play. His enthusiasm was of considerable
duration; it passed from one play to another, and among his "subtle"
pieces on the same theme were "The Harvest Moon" and "As a Man
Thinks."
Apart from these--the nearest approach of Thomas to the so-called
"intellectual" drama--and apart from the racy territorial pieces like
"Al
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