stated the husband's case so fairly, that there were terrific
quarrels as to what was his point of view, and the result of the
quarrels and discussions was the serious consideration by people of the
question dealt with in the drama. It is this discussion that the
reformer desires, being confident that the discussion of things long
deemed right without discussion is the surest road to reform.

From the point of view of dramatic art this impartiality is essential,
because without it the necessary impersonal element cannot be given to a
play. In such a work as the prison drama _It's never too Late to Mend_,
by Charles Reade, one seems to see all the time the hand of the
perfervid, almost frantic, reformer, and the same remark applies to
several of his novels. Of course, one does not ask the playwright to be,
but only to seem, impartial. To demand real impartiality would be to ask
that reality which is out of place upon the stage, the function of which
is, not to present themselves, but, to borrow Hamlet's idea, reflections
of them, and, it would be more accurate to say, to give ideas of them by
presenting images intentionally distorted.

For that fourth wall, the existence of which Mr Jerome K. Jerome rather
quaintly and childishly suggested by the fender and fireirons laid in
front of the footlights in _The Passing of the Third Floor Back_, really
operates as a distorting glass, although it is not there. This sounds a
little paradoxical, yet is clear enough. Things upon the stage have not
the same effect if regarded from the farther side of the footlights as
when considered from the nearer. This does not apply merely to things
seen, but also to things heard. In this respect there is a resemblance
to the work of the impressionist painter. Speaking more closely, one may
say that the scene-painter's canvas, with what, when seen at a few feet,
are coarse splashes and daubs of colour, is typical of the whole
theatrical production. It is imperative, then, that even the
impartiality should not be real impartiality. Moreover, absolute
impartiality would involve in many cases the suppression of the
criticism of life which is the essence of comedy.

"Problem plays," works endeavouring truly to represent to the audience
real life, and involving a criticism of life, are so rare that it is
worth drawing attention to a danger to dramatists. There is no need to
point it out to Mr Galsworthy, who in _The Silver Box_ and in _Strife_
sh