The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1907-11-03

twenty ont Of nifty on q a reading OF
the cast and socnO plot Perhaps not ope
in a hundred had Co be rend through TO
tho end. They wero read through 60 the
end always in the hope that some good
idea. some CLEAN Of talent. might be dis
covered and encouraged; but IL was not
necessary Tor the rejection Of that par
ticular play. Musical comedies bristling
with had puns. impossible lyrics and naval
lieutenants who sing tenor; poor. feeble
copies OF the latest Broadway success;
plays without points and plays without
iOints-by the hundreds they pour in upon
tho And always this Is their
lesson, that the people who write them
ave no business trying TO write for the
stage; in the good old fashioned phrase
they have not b0ea called They have
got the little yellow bug into their systems
and are sufferers from digeaee. The won
der is not that the managers produce 30
few good plays. but so many; that they
Contrive to pick out any sheep from such
an endless herd OF goats.
Perhaps the difference between the born
artist. who writes poems or paints pictures
or builds plays (plays are bulk. not wrtttenl.
because the dear Lord willed IL 90, and the
fellow who does IL because ne has got a
microbei into his system. is shown, the scicn-
fist says. most clearly in the temper with
which either man suffers a rejection. Ste
venson. you will recall. records that IL his
stuff" was returned to him in his early
wears. why, then. h old himself, he had not
learned to write, and he went chee9fully back
to his practice. And such practice! He tmi-
tated everybody. He wrote and rewrote and
rewrote again and then tore up. He played
the sedulous ape to Hazlitt. to lamb. to
Wordsworth, to Sir Thomas Browne, to Mon
tai9ne. to Baudelaire n to Obermann.'
-In Monmouth a tragedy" he says. i
recIined on the bosom of Mr..
Finally, after years OF such patient toll, he
began TO know how to write. h born
dramatist too Is well war that his art
is no less difficult to master, no less exacting
a task driver, and far more difficult indeed
to secure proper practice in, for it 10 only on
the stage that It's product can be fully
judged; and it is just on the stage that he
cannot place IL till his product is finished
and matured. Nevertheless he will NOT be
discouraged. He will play the sedulous
ape" to Shakespeare and to Ibsen and to
Dumas and to Scribe. He will repOso on
the bosom of Jones. He will build and re-
build and then tear down. And II he should
get his work PACK from the managers. or IL
il should secure a production in and fail
on the stage, he would merely say that he
had not vet learned TO build a play, and e
bach to his practice. Thus the born dram
atist. He needs no advice: he will follow the
star OF his destiny willy nilly. And nothing
can stop his ultimate arrival"
But the man who makes plays not from
hOrn instinct, not because his imagination
casts everything into the dramatic mould,
but because somebody else has written
plays that brought a fortune or just be-
cause, maybe. it seems a pleasant and
artistic" thing to do, because, in short,
he has inhaled the horrid yellow germ;
that man scorns practice, would sit down
and write a great drama at the first try.
would nave it that a noble and intricate
and battling art can be mastered in a mo-
ment or by anybody. IT, is he who raises
the cry Of ignorance and stupidity when
his manuscript comes back to him. II is
he who bIames the public or the actors
or both when his bad plays fail. IL is he
who wanders in our Alley-so says the
scientist with the voice Of a martyr,
declaring against the hosts Of the Philis-
tines. Samson's weapon seems to bo
less en0CtlWe now lhSttDW IuiSs again Hhyo
our scientist. Even as ne Is displaying this
symptom OF the dread disease. the born
playwright (who il, after all. the only i'm
mune) is at home at his practice. saying
nothing. not AZ all sure that he knows
how TO write a play, but keeping at It just
the same.
So the disease works in every city, in
every town that boasts an opera house."
in every college that boasts an English
department. There seem TO be no ade-
ouate preventive sanitary precautions, still
less no cure. But perhaps there is a com-
pensation. For every rejected manu-
script, every failure of false or immature OF
ignorant work upon the stage. every piece
OF knockkneed philosophy or vapid humor
or clumsy craftsmanship sent TO the dust
heap, above all every thwarted attempt
OF little minded men to foist their feeble
personalities into the theatre, hut shows
anew the triumphant intricacy and con-
auering truth Of the dramatic art.
WALTER P. EATON.