descend from the higher forms, such as tragedy, psychological drama and
"straight comedy," to the lower, such as musical comedy and burlesque, the
license allowed playwright and actor increases so radically that we have a
difference of kind rather than of degree. Certain conventions of course
are common to all types. The "missing fourth side" of the room is a
commonplace recognized by all. If we ourselves are never in the habit of
communicating the contents of our letters, as we write, to a doubtless
appreciative atmosphere, we never cavil at such an act on the stage. The
stage whisper and aside, too, we accept with benevolent indulgence; but it
is worth noting that in the attempted verisimilitude of the modern
"legitimate" drama, the aside has well nigh vanished. As we go down the
scale through light comedy and broad farce these conventions multiply
rapidly.

With the introduction of music come further absurdities. Melodious voicing
of our thoughts is in itself essentially unnatural, to say the least.
Grand opera, great art form as it may be, is hopelessly artificial.
Indeed, so far is it removed from the plane of every day existence that we
are rudely jolted by the introduction of too commonplace a thought, as
when Sharpless in the English version of "Madame Butterfly" warbles
mellifluously: "Highball or straight?" And when we reach musical comedy
and vaudeville, all thought of drama, technically speaking, is abandoned
in watching the capers of the "merry-merry" or the outrageous "Dutch"
comedian wielding his deadly newspaper.

It is important for our immediate purposes to note: first, (as aforesaid),
that the amount of license allowed author and actor increases immeasurably
as we go down the scale; second, that the degree of familiarity with the
audience and cognizance of the spectator's existence varies inversely as
the degree of dramatic value. Thus, at one end of the scale we have, for