of matter. There are numerous delicate and
difficult affairs of craft that the dramatist need not think about at
all. If he attempts to go beyond a certain very mild degree of subtlety,
he is merely wasting his time. What passes for subtle on the stage would
have a very obvious air in a novel, as some dramatists have unhappily
discovered. Thus whole continents of danger may be shunned by the
dramatist, and instead of being scorned for his cowardice he will be
very rightly applauded for his artistic discretion. Fortunate
predicament! Again, he need not--indeed, he must not--save in a
primitive and hinting manner, concern himself with "atmosphere." He may
roughly suggest one, but if he begins on the feat of "creating" an
atmosphere (as it is called), the last suburban train will have departed
before he has reached the crisis of the play. The last suburban train is
the best friend of the dramatist, though the fellow seldom has the sense
to see it. Further, he is saved all descriptive work. See a novelist
harassing himself into his grave over the description of a landscape, a
room, a gesture--while the dramatist grins. The dramatist may have to
imagine a landscape, a room, or a gesture; but he has not got to write
it--and it is the writing which hastens death. If a dramatist and a
novelist set out to portray a clever woman, they are almost equally
matched, because each has to make the creature say things and do things.
But if they set out to portray a charming woman, the dramatist can
recline in an easy chair and smoke while the novelist is ruining temper,
digestion and eyesight, and spreading terror in his household by his
moodiness and unapproachability. The electric light burns in the
novelist's study at three a.m.,--the novelist is still endeavouring to
convey by means of words the extraordinary fascination that his heroine
could exercise over mankind by the mere act of walking into a room; and
he never has really succeeded and never will. The dramatist writes
curtly, "Enter Millicent." All are anxious to do the dramatist's job for
him. Is the play being read at home--the reader eagerly and with
brilliant success puts his imagination to work and completes a charming
Millicent after his own secret desires. (Whereas he would coldly decline
to add one touch to Millicent were she the heroine of a novel.) Is the
play being performed on the stage--an experienced, conscientious, and
perhaps lovely actress will strive her hardest