ors in his art--nay, it
was by this that he set aside the old false method, and soared to the
heights in which, as an artist, he reigned supreme. Garrick personated
and Kean personated. The one had all the grace and mastery of the
powers of man for the conveyance of ideas, the other had a mighty
spirit which could leap out in flame to awe and sweep the souls of
those who saw and heard him. And the secret of both was that they best
understood the poet--best impersonated the characters which he drew,
and the passions which he set forth.

In order to promote and preserve the idea of reality in the minds of
the public, it is necessary that the action of the play be set in what
the painters call the proper _milieu_, or atmosphere. To this belongs
costume, scenery, and all that tends to set forth time and place other
than our own. If this idea be not kept in view there must be, or at
all events there may be, some disturbing cause to the mind of the
onlooker. This is all--literally all--that dramatic Art imperatively
demands from the paint room, the wardrobe, and the property shop;
and it is because the public taste and knowledge in such matters have
grown that the actor has to play his part with the surroundings and
accessories which are sometimes pronounced to be a weight or drag
on action. Suitability is demanded in all things; and it must, for
instance, be apparent to all that the things suitable to a palace are
different to those usual in a hovel. There is nothing unsuitable in
Lear in kingly raiment in the hovel in the storm, because such is here
demanded by the exigencies of the play: but if Lear were to be first
shown in such guise in such a place with no explanation given of the
cause, either the character or the stage-manager would be simply taken
for a madman. This idea of suitability should always be borne in mind,
for it is in itself a sufficient answer to any thoughtless allegation
as to overloading a play with scenery.

Finally, in the consideration of the Art of Acting, it must never be
forgotten that its ultimate aim is beauty. Truth itself is only an
element of beauty, and to merely reproduce things vile and squalid and
mean is a debasement of Art. There is apt to be such a tendency in
an age of peace, and men should carefully watch its manifestations. A
morose and hopeless dissatisfaction is not a part of a true national
life. This is hopeful and earnest, and, if need be, militant. It is a
bad sign for any