atre, and usually derive keen pleasure therefrom. But
is pleasure all that we expect to find? What we should look for
above everything in a comedy or a drama is a representation, exact as
possible, of the manners and characters of the dramatis persona of the
play; and perhaps the conditions under which the play was written do
not allow such representation. The exact and studied portrayal of
a character demands from the author long preparation, and cannot be
accomplished in a few hours. From, the first scene to the last, each
tale must be posed in the author's mind exactly as it will be proved to
be at the end. It is the author's aim and mission to place completely
before his audience the souls of the "agonists" laying bare the
complications of motive, and throwing into relief the delicate shades
of motive that sway them. Often, too, the play is produced before a
numerous audience--an audience often distrait, always pressed for time,
and impatient of the least delay. Again, the public in general require
that they shall be able to understand without difficulty, and at first
thought, the characters the author seeks to present, making it necessary
that these characters be depicted from their most salient sides--which
are too often vulgar and unattractive.

In our comedies and dramas it is not the individual that is drawn, but
the type. Where the individual alone is real, the type is a myth of the
imagination--a pure invention. And invention is the mainspring of the
theatre, which rests purely upon illusion, and does not please us unless
it begins by deceiving us.

I believe, then, that if one seeks to know the world exactly as it is,
the theatre does not furnish the means whereby one can pursue the study.
A far better opportunity for knowing the private life of a people is
available through the medium of its great novels. The novelist deals
with each person as an individual. He speaks to his reader at an hour
when the mind is disengaged from worldly affairs, and he can add
without restraint every detail that seems needful to him to complete the
rounding of his story. He can return at will, should he choose, to the
source of the plot he is unfolding, in order that his reader may better
understand him; he can emphasize and dwell upon those details which an
audience in a theatre will not allow.

The reader, being at leisure, feels no impatience, for he knows that he
can at any time lay down or take up the book. It is the con