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but any mind at all must have been captivated by the thought that the mere subject and action—not counting the beauty and dignity of the verse—of these plays had more power to move us than the most current of modern themes. Of the latter, Jane Clegg is an example. If the emotions of an audience can be stirred by illumination of their own lives, if careful observation and faithful transcription could project the accent of truth into the spoken words of a play, Mr. Ervine would lead this noble field of dramatists. With Jane Clegg, Mr. Ervine actually sinks a few inches deeper into the rut of our serious writers for the stage. His only accomplishment has been the complete bewilderment of the critics.

The dismal school of playwriting has never been so well served by the dull school of actors. The Theatre Guild has all unconsciously done a perfect thing; the setting, the voices, the tempo, the grouping of this play are faultlessly suited to the subject. This in itself is so rare a phenomenon that the critics praised it; but since neither they nor the audiences took the trouble to find out why the play was so thoroughly unsatisfying, much had to be made of the "restraint" of the acting. It apparently did not occur to those who spoke of it and ordered some of our more tearful players to go, see, and be lessoned in the art of acting, that restraint in itself is no virtue, especially when the dramatist has, through some oversight, neglected to supply one single human passion for the actors to express. One wonders what Shakespeare (or Shaw) would say to a playwright who took a few snips and shreds of feeling, stuck them to the bare mast of a social thesis, and pretended that he had a sail filled with the violent wind of human energy.

If our actors and critics really care a rap about restrained acting, let them observe the work of Mr. Russ Whytal in The Letter of the Law. It is Brieux's great gift to endow one or two personages in his thesis-plays with life, to give them background and depth; such a one Mr. Whytal undertook to portray, with a fineness and justice unsurpassed in many a day of our theatre. Here were emotion which grew with every check put upon it, and a quite exceptional intelligence. Mr. Lionel Barrymore was much better in this play than any one who had seen his Neri had any reason to expect; but it was Mr. Whytal alone who created the tragic dignity without which the play would have remained foreign to our lives.