ional types to fill in the
minor parts of a play. The comic valet, the pretty and witty chambermaid,
the _ingenue_, the pathetic old friend of the family, are so well known
upon the stage that they spare the mental energy of the spectators and
leave them greater vigor of attention to devote to the more original major
characters. What is called "comic relief" has a similar value in resting
the attention of the audience. After the spectators have been harrowed by
Ophelia's madness, they must be diverted by the humor of the grave-diggers
in order that their susceptibilities may be made sufficiently fresh for the
solemn scene of her funeral.

We have seen that any sudden shock of surprise should be avoided in the
theatre, because such a shock must inevitably cause a scattering of
attention. It often happens that the strongest scenes of a play require the
use of some physical accessory,--a screen in _The School for Scandal_, a
horse in _Shenandoah_, a perfumed letter in _Diplomacy_. In all such cases,
the spectators must be familiarised beforehand with the accessory object,
so that when the climax comes they may devote all of their attention to the
action that is accomplished with the object rather than to the object
itself. In a quarrel scene, an actor could not suddenly draw a concealed
weapon in order to threaten his antagonist. The spectators would stop to
ask themselves how he happened to have the weapon by him without their
knowing it; and this self-muttered question would deaden the effect of the
scene. The _denouement_ of Ibsen's _Hedda Gabler_ requires that the two
chief characters, Eilert Loevborg and Hedda Tesman, should die of pistol
wounds. The pistols that are to be used in the catastrophe are mentioned
and shown repeatedly throughout the early and middle scenes of the play; so
that when the last act comes, the audience thinks not of pistols, but of
murder and suicide. A striking illustration of the same dramaturgic
principle was shown in Mrs. Fiske's admirable performance of this play. The
climax of the piece comes at the end of the penultimate act, when Hedda
casts into the fire the manuscript of the book into which Eilert has put
the great work of his life. The stove stands ready at the left of the
stage; but when the culminating moment comes, the spectators must be made
to forget the stove in their horror at Hedda's wickedness. They must,
therefore, be made familiar with the stove in the early part of the act