e man
behind the work is inherently a man worth while. In either failure or
success, the sole significant thing is the quality of the endeavor. A young
author may fail for the shallow reason that he is insincere; but he may
fail even more decisively for the sublime reason that as yet his reach
exceeds his grasp. He may succeed because through earnest effort he has
done almost well something eminently worth the doing; or he may succeed
merely because he has essayed an unimportant and an easy task. Often more
hope for an author's future may be founded upon an initial failure than
upon an initial success. It is better for a young man to fail in a large
and noble effort than to succeed in an effort insignificant and mean. For
in labor, as in life, Stevenson's maxim is very often pertinent:--to travel
hopefully is frequently a better thing than to arrive.

And in estimating the work of new and unknown authors, it is not nearly so
important for the critic to consider their present technical accomplishment
as it is for him to consider the sincerity with which they have endeavored
to tell the truth about some important phase of human life. Dramatic
criticism of an academic cast is of little value either to those who write
plays or to those who see them. The man who buys his ticket to the theatre
knows little and cares less about the technique of play-making; and for the
dramatist himself there are no ten commandments. I have been gradually
growing to believe that there is only one commandment for the
dramatist,--that he shall tell the truth; and only one fault of which a
play is capable,--that, as a whole or in details, it tells a lie. A play is
irretrievably bad only when the average theatre-goer--a man, I mean, with
no special knowledge of dramatic art--viewing what is done upon the stage
and hearing what is said, revolts instinctively against it with a feeling
that I may best express in that famous sentence of Assessor Brack's,
"People don't do such things." A play that is truthful at all points will
never evoke this instinctive disapproval; a play that tells lies at certain
points will lose attention by jangling those who know.

The test of truthfulness is the final test of excellence in drama. In
saying this, of course, I do not mean that the best plays are realistic in
method, naturalistic in setting, or close to actuality in subject-matter.
_The Tempest_ is just as true as _The Merry Wives of Windsor_, and _Peter
Pan_ is