t afoot only so long as every one
concerned holds his or her common sense in studious abeyance. "Pyramus
and Thisbe without the wall" may be taken as the formula for the whole
type of play. But even in plays of a much higher type, the author might
often ask himself with advantage whether he could not strengthen his
obstacle, and so accentuate the struggle which forms the matter of his
play. Though conflict may not be essential to drama, yet, when you set
forth to portray a struggle, you may as well make it as real and intense
as possible.

It seems to me that in the late William Vaughn Moody's drama, _The Great
Divide_, the body of the play, after the stirring first act, is weakened
by our sense that the happy ending is only being postponed by a violent
effort. We have been assured from the very first--even before Ruth
Jordan has set eyes on Stephen Ghent--that just such a rough diamond is
the ideal of her dreams. It is true that, after their marriage, the
rough diamond seriously misconducts himself towards her; and we have
then to consider the rather unattractive question whether a single act
of brutality on the part of a drunken husband ought to be held so
unpardonable as to break up a union which otherwise promises to be quite
satisfactory. But the author has taken such pains to emphasize the fact
that these two people are really made for each other, that the answer to
the question is not for a moment in doubt, and we become rather
impatient of the obstinate sulkiness of Ruth's attitude. If there had
been a real disharmony of character to be overcome, instead of, or in
addition to, the sordid misadventure which is in fact the sole barrier
between them, the play would certainly have been stronger, and perhaps
more permanently popular.

In a play by Mr. James Bernard Fagan, _The Prayer of the Sword_, we have
a much clearer example of an inadequate obstacle. A youth named Andrea
has been brought up in a monastery, and destined for the priesthood; but
his tastes and aptitudes are all for a military career. He is, however,
on the verge of taking his priestly vows, when accident calls him forth
into the world, and he has the good fortune to quell a threatened
revolution in a romantic Duchy, ruled over by a duchess of surpassing
loveliness. With her he naturally falls in love; and the tragedy lies,
or ought to lie, in the conflict between this earthly passion and his
heavenly calling and election. But the author has taken