e prodded and teased and tortured into
speech. In this case we may be more than grateful that they are, for the
result is most delightful reading--even tho it falls a trifle short of
its purpose as indicated by the rather far-reaching title.

There are no workable rules for play-writing to be found here--nor,
indeed, any particular light of any kind on the subject, so the letters
may be approacht with a mind arranged for enjoyment. I would be sorry
indeed for the trying-to-be dramatist who flew to this volume for
consolation and guidance. I'm sorry for him any way, but this additional
catastrophe would accelerate my sympathy, making it fast and furious.
Any one sufficiently inexperienced to consult books in order to find out
how to write a play will certainly undergo a severe touch of confusion
in this case, for four of the letter-writers confess quite frankly that
they do not know--two of these thereupon proceeding to tell us, thus
forcibly illustrating their first statement. One author exclaims, "Have
instinct!"--another, "Have genius!" Where these two necessaries are to
be obtained is not revealed. Equally discouraging is the Dumas
declaration that "Some from birth know how to write a play and the
others do not and never will." That would have killed off a lot of
us--if we had seen it in time.

One approaches the practical when he counsels us to "Take an
interesting theme." Certainly a workable proposition. Many dramatists
have done that--wherever they could find it. The method is not
altogether modern. Two insist upon the necessity of a carefully
considered plan, while two others announce that it is a matter of no
consequence what one does; and another still wants us to be sure and
begin work at the end instead of the beginning. Gondinet--most
delightful of all--tells us that his method of working is simply
atrocious, for all he asks when he contemplates writing a play is
whether the subject will be amusing to him. Tho that scarcely touches
the question of how to write it, it is a practical hint on favoring
conditions, for no one will dispute that one's best work is likely to be
preformed when he him self enjoys it. Sardou comes nearest to projecting
a faint ray of practical light on the subject when he avers that there
is no one necessary way to write a play, but that a dramatist must know
where he is going and take the best road that leads there. He omits,
however, to give instructions about finding that road--wh