Here again the words are all colloquial and are set in their accustomed order; but by sheer mastery of rhythm the poet contrives to express the tremulous hesitance of Viola’s mood as it could not be expressed in prose.  There is a need for verse upon the stage, if the verse be simple and colloquial; and there is a need for poetry in the drama, provided that the play remain the thing and the poetry contribute to the play.

VIII

DRAMATIC LITERATURE AND THEATRIC JOURNALISM

One reason why journalism is a lesser thing than literature is that it subserves the tyranny of timeliness.  It narrates the events of the day and discusses the topics of the hour, for the sole reason that they happen for the moment to float uppermost upon the current of human experience.  The flotsam of this current may occasionally have dived up from the depths and may give a glimpse of some underlying secret of the sea; but most often it merely drifts upon the surface, indicative of nothing except which way the wind lies.  Whatever topic is the most timely to-day is doomed to be the most untimely to-morrow.  Where are the journals of yester-year?  Dig them out of dusty files, and all that they say will seem wearisomely old, for the very reason that when it was written it seemed spiritedly new.  Whatever wears a date upon its forehead will soon be out of date.  The main interest of news is newness; and nothing slips so soon behind the times as novelty.

With timeliness, as an incentive, literature has absolutely no concern.  Its purpose is to reveal what was and is and evermore shall be.  It can never grow old, for the reason that it has never attempted to be new.  Early in the nineteenth century, the gentle Elia revolted from the tyranny of timeliness.  “Hang the present age!”, said he, “I’ll write for antiquity.”  The timely utterances of his contemporaries have passed away with the times that called them forth:  his essays live perennially new.  In the dateless realm of revelation, antiquity joins hands with futurity.  There can be nothing either new or old in any utterance which is really true or beautiful or right.

In considering a given subject, journalism seeks to discover what there is in it that belongs to the moment, and literature seeks to reveal what there is in it that belongs to eternity.  To journalism facts are important because they are facts; to literature they are important only in so far as they are representative of recurrent truths.  Literature speaks because it has something to say:  journalism speaks because the public wants to be talked to.  Literature is an emanation from an inward impulse:  but the motive of journalism is external; it is fashioned to supply a demand outside itself.  It is frequently said, and is sometimes believed, that the province of journalism is to mold public opinion; but a consideration of actual conditions indicates rather that its province