eek tragedy. A
dramatist who can so develop his story as to bring it within the
quasi-Aristotelean "unities" performs a curious but not particularly
difficult or valuable feat; but this does not, or ought not to, imply
the abandonment of the act-division, which is no mere convention, but a
valuable means of marking the rhythm of the story. When, on the other
hand, you have no story to tell, the act-division is manifestly
superfluous; but it needs no "virtuosity" to dispense with it.

It is a grave error, then, to suppose that the act is a mere division of
convenience, imposed by the limited power of attention of the human
mind, or by the need of the human body for occasional refreshment. A
play with a well-marked, well-balanced act-structure is a higher
artistic organism than a play with no act-structure, just as a
vertebrate animal is higher than a mollusc. In every crisis of real life
(unless it be so short as to be a mere incident) there is a rhythm of
rise, progress, culmination and solution. We are not always, perhaps not
often, conscious of these stages; but that is only because we do not
reflect upon our experiences while they are passing, or map them out in
memory when they are past. We do, however, constantly apply to real-life
crises expressions borrowed more or less directly from the terminology
of the drama. We say, somewhat incorrectly, "Things have come to a
climax," meaning thereby a culmination; or we say, "The catastrophe is
at hand," or, again, "What a fortunate _denouement_!" Be this as it may,
it is the business of the dramatist to analyse the crises with which he
deals, and to present them to us in their rhythm of growth, culmination,
solution. To this end the act-division is--not, perhaps, essential,
since the rhythm may be marked even in a one-act play--but certainly of
enormous and invaluable convenience. "Si l'acte n'existait pas, il
faudrait l'inventer"; but as a matter of fact it has existed wherever,
in the Western world, the drama has developed beyond its rudest
beginnings.

It was doubtless the necessity for marking this rhythm that Aristotle
had in mind when he said that a dramatic action must have a beginning, a
middle and an end. Taken in its simplicity, this principle would
indicate the three-act division as the ideal scheme for a play. As a
matter of fact, many of the best modern plays in all languages fall into
three acts; one has only to note _Monsieur Alphonse, Francillon, La
Pari