atience for intellectual consideration.

Furthermore, the novelist need not, like the dramatist, subserve the
immediate necessity for popular appeal. The dramatic author, since
he plans his story for a heterogeneous multitude of people, must
incorporate in the same single work of art elements that will interest
all classes of mankind. But the novelistic author, since he is at
liberty to pick his auditors at will, may, if he choose, write only
for the best-developed minds. It is an element of Shakespeare's
greatness that his most momentous plays, like "Hamlet" and "Othello,"
are of interest to people who can neither read nor write, as well
as to people of educated sensibilities. But it is an evidence of Mr.
Meredith's greatness that his novels are caviare to the general. Mr.
Kipling's "They" is the greater story because it defends itself from
being understood by those it is not really for. In exhibiting the
subtler and more delicate phases of human experience, the novel far
transcends the drama. The drama, at its deepest, is more poignant; but
the novel, at its highest, is more exquisite.

The proper material for the drama is, as we have seen, a struggle
between individual human wills, motivated by emotion rather than by
intellect, and expressed in terms of objective action. In representing
such material, the drama is supreme. But the novel is wider in range;
for besides exhibiting (though less emphatically) this special aspect
of human life, it may embody many other and scarcely less important
phases of individual experience. Of late, an effort has been made to
break down the barrier between the novel and the drama: many stories,
which have been told first in the novelistic mood, have afterward been
reconstructed and retold for presentation in the theater. This attempt
has succeeded sometimes, but has more often failed. Yet it ought to be
very easy to distinguish a novel that may be dramatized from a novel
that may not. Certain scenes in novelistic literature, like the
duel in "The Master of Ballantrae," are essentially dramatic both in
content and in mood. Such scenes may be adapted with very little labor
to the uses of the theater. Certain novels, like "Jane Eyre," which
exhibit an emphatic struggle between individual human wills, are
inherently capable of theatric representment. But any novel in
which the main source of interest is not the clash of character on
character, in which the element of action is subordinat