hought
conveyed. Hence, the more time and attention it takes to receive
and understand each sentence, the less time and attention can be
given to the contained idea; and the less vividly will that idea
be conveyed.

Spencer drew his illustrations of this principle mainly from the literature
of the library; but its application is even more important in the
literature of the stage. So many and so diverse are the elements of a
theatrical performance that, unless the attention of the spectator is
attracted at every moment to the main dramatic purpose of the scene, he
will sit wide-eyed, like a child at a three-ring circus, with his mind
fluttering from point to point and his interest dispersed and scattered. A
perfect theatrical performance must harmonise the work of many men. The
dramatist, the actors main and minor, the stage-manager, the scene-painter,
the costumer, the leader of the orchestra, must all contribute their
separate talents to the production of a single work of art. It follows that
a nice adjustment of parts, a discriminating subordination of minor
elements to major, is absolutely necessary in order that the attention of
the audience may be focused at every moment upon the central meaning of the
scene. If the spectator looks at scenery when he should be listening to
lines, if his attention is startled by some unexpected device of
stage-management at a time when he ought to be looking at an actor's face,
or if his mind is kept for a moment uncertain of the most emphatic feature
of a scene, the main effect is lost and that part of the performance is a
failure.

It may be profitable to notice some of the technical devices by which
attention is economised in the theatre and the interest of the audience is
thereby centred upon the main business of the moment. In particular it is
important to observe how a scattering of attention is avoided; how, when
many things are shown at once upon the stage, it is possible to make an
audience look at one and not observe the others. We shall consider the
subject from the point of view of the dramatist, from that of the actor,
and from that of the stage-manager.

II

The dramatist, in writing, labors under a disadvantage that is not suffered
by the novelist. If a passage in a novel is not perfectly clear at the
first glance, the reader may always turn back the pages and read the scene
again; but on the stage a line once spoken can never be recalled