The theme of _Romeo and Juliet_ is youthful love crossed by ancestral
hate; the theme of _Othello_ is jealousy; the theme of _Le Tartufe_ is
hypocrisy; the theme of _Caste_ is fond hearts and coronets; the theme
of _Getting Married_ is getting married; the theme of _Maternité_ is
maternity. To every play it is possible, at a pinch, to assign a theme;
but in many plays it is evident that no theme expressible in abstract
terms was present to the author's mind. Nor are these always plays of a
low class. It is only by a somewhat artificial process of abstraction
that we can formulate a theme for _As You Like It_, for _The Way of the
World_, or for _Hedda Gabler_.

The question now arises: ought a theme, in its abstract form, to be the
first germ of a play? Ought the dramatist to say, "Go to, I will write a
play on temperance, or on woman's suffrage, or on capital and labour,"
and then cast about for a story to illustrate his theme? This is a
possible, but not a promising, method of procedure. A story made to the
order of a moral concept is always apt to advertise its origin, to the
detriment of its illusive quality. If a play is to be a moral apologue
at all, it is well to say so frankly--probably in the title--and aim,
not at verisimilitude, but at neatness and appositeness in the working
out of the fable. The French _proverbe_ proceeds on this principle, and
is often very witty and charming.[1] A good example in English is _A
Pair of Spectacles_, by Mr. Sydney Grundy, founded on a play by Labiche.
In this bright little comedy every incident and situation bears upon the
general theme, and pleases us, not by its probability, but by its
ingenious appropriateness. The dramatic fable, in fact, holds very much
the same rank in drama as the narrative fable holds in literature at
large. We take pleasure in them on condition that they be witty, and
that they do not pretend to be what they are not.