at all. He was to be
as invisible as that Heaven of which we are told the violent take it
by force. My intention at first was that he should be robbed, but
then I saw robbery would take too much sympathy from my young lad,
and I decided the money should be won by the lesser sin of
cardplaying, but still behind the scenes. Then I thought it would
have a good stage effect if old Damer could just walk once across
the stage in the background. His relations might have come into the
house to try and make themselves agreeable to him, and he would
appear and they would vanish. ... Damer comes in, and contrary to
my intention, he begins to find a tongue of his own. He has made his
start in the world, and has more than a word to say. How that play
will work out I cannot be sure, or if it will ever be finished at all.
But if ever it is I am quite sure it will go as Damer wants, not as I
want.

That is what I said last winter, and now in harvest time the play is
all but out of my hands. But as I foretold, Damer has taken
possession of it, turning it to be as simple as a folk-tale, where
the innocent of the world confound the wisdom of the wise. The idea
with which I set out has not indeed quite vanished, but is as if
"extinct and pale; not darkness, but light that has become dead."

As to Damer's changes of mood, it happened a little time ago, when
the play was roughly written, but on its present lines, that I took
up a volume of Montaigne, and found in it his justification by high
examples:

"Verilie it is not want but rather plentie that causeth avarice. I
will speake of mine owne experience concerning this subject. I have
lived in three kinds of condition since I came out of my infancie.
The first time, which continued well nigh twentie yeares, I have
past it over as one who had no other means but casual without any
certaine maintenance or regular prescription. My expenses were so
much the more carelessly laid out and lavishly employed, by how much
more they wholly depended on fortunes rashnesse and exhibition. I
never lived so well at ease.... My second manner of life hath been to
have monie: which when I had once fingred, according to my condition
I sought to hoorde up some against a rainy day.... My minde was ever
on my halfe-penny; my thoughts ever that way. Of commoditie I had
little or nothing.... And after you are once accustomed, and have
fixed your thoughts upon a heape of monie, it is no longer at your
service; y