overfill his second.  I do not say he did:  I merely propound the question for the student’s consideration.  One thing we must recognize in dramatic art as in all other human affairs; namely, that perfection, if not unattainable, is extremely rare.  We have often to make a deliberate sacrifice at one point in order to gain some greater advantage at another; to incur imperfection here that we may achieve perfection there.  It is no disparagement to the great masters to admit that they frequently show us rather what to avoid than what to do.  Negative instruction, indeed, is in its essence more desirable than positive.  The latter tends to make us mere imitators, whereas the former, in saving us from dangers, leaves our originality unimpaired.

It is curious to note that, in another play, Ibsen did actually transfer the erregende Moment, the joining of issue, from the second act to the first.  In his early draft of Rosmersholm, the great scene in which Rosmer confesses to Kroll his change of views did not occur until the second act.  There can be no doubt that the balance and proportion of the play gained enormously by the transference.

After all, however, the essential question is not how much or how little is conveyed to us in the first act, but whether our interest is thoroughly aroused, and, what is of equal importance, skilfully carried forward.  Before going more at large into this very important detail of the playwright’s craft, it may be well to say something of the nature of dramatic interest in general.

* * * * *

[Footnote 1:  There are several cases in Greek drama in which a hero leaves the stage to fight a battle and returns victorious in a few minutes.  See, for example, the Supplices of Euripides.]

[Footnote 2:  So far was Shakespeare from ignoring the act-division that it is a question whether his art did not sometimes suffer from the supposed necessity of letting a fourth act intervene between the culmination in the third act and the catastrophe in the fifth.]

[Footnote 3:  I think it may be said that the majority of modern serious plays are in four acts.  It is a favourite number with Sir Arthur Pinero, Mr. Henry Arthur Jones, Mr. Clyde Fitch, and Mr. Alfred Sutro.]

[Footnote 4:  This must not be taken to mean that in no case is a change of scene within the act advisable.  The point to be considered is whether the author does or does not want to give the audience time for reflection—­time to return to the real world—­between two episodes.  If it is of great importance that they should not do so, then a rapid change of scene may be the less of two evils.  In this case the lights should be kept lowered in order to show that no interact is intended; but the fashion of changing the scene on a pitch-dark stage, without dropping the curtain, is much to be deprecated.  If the revolving stage should ever become a common institution in English-speaking countries, dramatists would doubtless be more tempted than they are at present to change their scenes within the act; but I doubt whether the tendency would be wholly advantageous.  No absolute rule, however, can be laid down, and it may well be maintained that a true dramatic artist could only profit by the greater flexibility of his medium.]