will understand how difficult it is for a comedian to rise to such
a sphere. In tragedy, passion or intensity sweeps all before it, and
when I say passion, I mean the passion of pathos as well as wrath
or revenge. These are the supreme elements of the actor's art,
which cannot be taught by any system, however just, and to which all
education is but tributary.

Now all that can be said of the necessity of a close regard for nature
in acting applies with equal or greater force to the presentation of
plays. You want, above all things, to have a truthful picture which
shall appeal to the eye without distracting the imagination from the
purpose of the drama. It is a mistake to suppose that this enterprise
is comparatively new to the stage. Since Shakespeare's time there has
been a steady progress in this direction. Even in the poet's day every
conceivable property was forced into requisition, and his own sense
of shortcomings in this respect is shown in _Henry V._ when he
exclaims:--

"Where--O for pity!--we shall much disgrace
With four or five most vile and ragged foils
The name of Agincourt."

There have always been critics who regarded care and elaboration in
the mounting of plays as destructive of the real spirit of the actor's
art. Betterton had to meet this reproach when he introduced scenery in
lieu of linsey-woolsey curtains; but he replied, sensibly enough, that
his scenery was better than the tapestry with hideous figures worked
upon it which had so long distracted the senses of play-goers. He
might have asked his critics whether they wished to see Ophelia played
by a boy of sixteen, as in the time of Shakespeare, instead of a