the class with Congreve and Sheridan.

It is by no means my intention to suggest that great writing is not
desirable in the drama; but the point must be emphasised that it is not a
necessary element in the immediate merit of a play _as a play_. In fact,
excellent plays have often been presented without the use of any words at
all. Pantomime has, in every age, been recognised as a legitimate
department of the drama. Only a few years ago, Mme. Charlotte Wiehe acted
in New York a one-act play, entitled _La Main_, which held the attention
enthralled for forty-five minutes during which no word was spoken. The
little piece told a thrilling story with entire clearness and coherence,
and exhibited three characters fully and distinctly drawn; and it secured
this achievement by visual means alone, with no recourse whatever to the
spoken word. Here was a work which by no stretch of terminology could have
been included in the category of literature; and yet it was a very good
play, and _as drama_ was far superior to many a literary masterpiece in
dialogue like Browning's _In a Balcony_.

Lest this instance seem too exceptional to be taken as representative, let
us remember that throughout an entire important period in the history of
the stage, it was customary for the actors to improvise the lines that they
spoke before the audience. I refer to the period of the so-called _commedia
dell'arte_, which flourished all over Italy throughout the sixteenth
century. A synopsis of the play--partly narrative and partly
expository--was posted up behind the scenes. This account of what was to
happen on the stage was known technically as a _scenario_. The actors
consulted this scenario before they made an entrance, and then in the
acting of the scene spoke whatever words occurred to them. Harlequin made
love to Columbine and quarreled with Pantaloon in new lines every night;
and the drama gained both spontaneity and freshness from the fact that it