what men WOULD do, not just what they DID.
I think that's so true, don't you? I want to show what Savonarola WOULD
have done if--' He paused.

'If what?'

'Well, that's just the point. I haven't settled that yet. When I've
thought of a plot, I shall go straight ahead.'

I said I supposed he intended his tragedy rather for the study than for
the stage. This seemed to hurt him. I told him that what I meant was
that managers always shied at anything without 'a strong feminine
interest.' This seemed to worry him. I advised him not to think about
managers. He promised that he would think only about Savonarola.

I know now that this promise was not exactly kept by him; and he may
have felt slightly awkward when, some weeks later, he told me he had
begun the play. 'I've hit on an initial idea,' he said, 'and that's
enough to start with. I gave up my notion of inventing a plot in
advance. I thought it would be a mistake. I don't want puppets on wires.
I want Savonarola to work out his destiny in his own way. Now that I
have the initial idea, what I've got to do is to make Savonarola LIVE.
I hope I shall be able to do this. Once he's alive, I shan't interfere
with him. I shall just watch him. Won't it be interesting? He isn't
alive yet. But there's plenty of time. You see, he doesn't come on at
the rise of the curtain. A Friar and a Sacristan come on and talk about
him. By the time they've finished, perhaps he'll be alive. But they
won't have finished yet. Not that they're going to say very much. But I
write slowly.'

I remember the mild thrill I had when, one evening, he took me aside and
said in an undertone, 'Savonarola has come on. Alive!' For me the MS.
hereinafter printed has an interest that for you it cannot have, so
a-bristle am I with memories of the meetings I had with its author
throughout the nine years he took over it. He never saw me without
reporting progress, or lack of progress. Just what was going on, or
standing still, he did not divulge. After the entry of Savonarola,
he never told me what characters were appearing. 'All sorts of people
appear,' he would say rather helplessly. 'They insist. I can't prevent
them.' I used to say it must be great fun to be a creative artist; but
at this he always shook his head: 'I don't create. THEY do. Savonarola
especially, of course. I just look on and record. I never know what's
going to happen next.' He had the advantage of me in knowing at any rate
what had happen