y sure
that it is a piece of mechanism he is putting together, not a drama with
flesh and blood in it. The difference between a live play and a dead one
is that in the former the characters control the plot, while in the
latter the plot controls the characters. Which is not to say, of course,
that there may not be clever and entertaining plays which are "dead" in
this sense, and dull and unattractive plays which are "live."

A great deal of ink has been wasted in controversy over a remark of
Aristotle's that the action or _muthos_, not the character or _ethos_,
is the essential element in drama. The statement is absolutely true and
wholly unimportant. A play can exist without anything that can be called
character, but not without some sort of action. This is implied in the
very word "drama," which means a doing, not a mere saying or existing.
It would be possible, no doubt, to place Don Quixote, or Falstaff, or
Peer Gynt, on the stage, and let him develop his character in mere
conversation, or even monologue, without ever moving from his chair. But
it is a truism that deeds, not words, are the demonstration and test of
character; wherefore, from time immemorial, it has been the recognized
business of the theatre to exhibit character in action. Historically,
too, we find that drama has everywhere originated in the portrayal of an
action--some exploit or some calamity in the career of some demigod or
hero. Thus story or plot is by definition, tradition, and practical
reason, the fundamental element in drama; but does it therefore follow
that it is the noblest element, or that by which its value should be
measured? Assuredly not. The skeleton is, in a sense, the fundamental
element in the human organism. It can exist, and, with a little
assistance, retain its form, when stripped of muscle and blood and
nerve; whereas a boneless man would be an amorphous heap, more helpless
than a jelly-fish. But do we therefore account the skeleton man's
noblest part? Scarcely. It is by his blood and nerve that he lives, not
by his bones; and it is because his bones are, comparatively speaking,
dead matter that they continue to exist when the flesh has fallen away
from them. It is, therefore, if not a misreading of Aristotle,[4] at any
rate a perversion of reason, to maintain that the drama lives by action,
rather than by character. Action ought to exist for the sake of
character: when the relation is reversed, the play may be an ingenious