_Capt. Anstruther._ I couldn't tell you. We arrived in Athens only last night.

_Capt. O'Malley._ (_Saluting and moving off left._) I thank you.

(_He exits left._)[6]

But the dramatist prefaced this with a careful description of the setting. What has just been quoted shows that the dramatist risked no chance that what would probably identify this setting,--"Greek letters of gilt" on the picture frames, and the distant view of the Acropolis,--might fail him. He added what has just been quoted.

_This scene shows the interior of the reading room in the Hotel Angleterre at Athens. It is large, cheerful-looking, and sunny, with a high ceiling. Extending nearly across the entire width of the rear wall is a French window, which opens upon the garden of the hotel.

Outside it are set plants in green tubs, and above it is stretched a striped green-and-white awning. To the reading room the princ.i.p.al entrance is through a wide door set well down in the left wall. It is supposed to open into the hall of the hotel. Through this door one obtains a glimpse of the hall, where steamer trunks and hatboxes are piled high upon a black-and-white tiled floor. In the right wall there is another door, also well down on the stage. It is supposed to open into a corridor of the hotel. Below it against the wall are a writing desk and chair. A similar writing desk is placed against the rear wall between the right wall and the French window. On the left of the stage, end-on to the audience, is a long library table over which is spread a dark-green baize cloth. On top of it are ranged periodicals and the ill.u.s.trated papers of different countries. Chairs of bent wood are ranged around this table, one being placed at each side of the lower end. Of these two, the chair to the left of the table is not farther from the left door than five feet. The walls of the room are colored a light, cool gray in distemper, with a black oak wainscot about four feet high. On the walls are hung photographs of the Acropolis and of cla.s.sic Greek statues. On the black frames holding these photographs appear the names of shopkeepers in Greek letters of gilt. The floor is covered with a gray crash. The back drop, seen through the French window, shows the garden of the hotel, beyond that the trees of a public park, and high in the air the Acropolis. The light is that of a bright morning in May._

The test in deciding whether the place and the time should be stated is not, "Has it been given in the program?" nor, "May it with ingenuity be guessed from the settings and costumes?" but, first, "Does place or time, or do both at all determine the action of the piece?" secondly, "Will any intelligent observer be vague as to place or time, as the play develops?" If the answer to either of these questions is yes, it is wisest to make these matters clear in the text.

Far more troublesome than merely identifying the characters or emphasizing the place and time of the play is showing the relations of the characters to one another. This usually requires exposition of past history which must be clearly understood if the play is to have its full emotional effect. More than one reader has been disposed to believe the theory that _Macbeth_, as we know it, is a cut stage version because, when Lady Macbeth first enters, she seems less prepared for and less clearly related to the other figures than is Shakespeare's custom.

SCENE 5. _Inverness. Macbeth's castle_

_Enter Lady Macbeth, alone, with a letter_

_Lady Macbeth_. (_Reads._) "They met me in the day of success; and I have learn'd by the perfect'st report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burn'd in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanish'd. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the King, who all-hail'd me, 'Thane of Cawdor'; by which t.i.tle, before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referr'd me to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, King thou shalt be!' This I have thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promis'd thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell."

Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promis'd. Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great, Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win. Thou'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries, "Thus thou must do, if thou have it"; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither That I may pour my spirits in thine ear, And chastise with the valour of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal.

The Dumb Show, Chorus, and Soliloquy are now outworn devices for setting forth necessary initial expository facts. Today any experienced dramatist knows that such preliminary exposition demands the art which conceals art, for an audience resents a mere recital of necessary facts.

Examine the first act of Schnitzler's _The Lonely Way_.[7] All of it is interesting for characterization and statement of facts essential to an understanding of the play, but it does not grip the attention as do the other acts where drama, not exposition, is of first consequence.

Early steps in advance on the Chorus were the butler and the maid servant, garrulously talking of what each must have known ever since he came into his position. A closely related form is unbosoming oneself to a male or female confidant.

ACT I

(_Enter Hippolytus, Theramenes._)

_Hippolytus._ My mind is settled, dear Theramenes, And I can stay not more in lovely Troezen.

In doubt that racks my soul with mortal anguish, I grow ashamed of such long idleness.

Six months and more my father has been gone, And what may have befallen one so dear I know not, nor what corner of the earth Hides him.

_Theramenes._ And where, prince, will you look for him?

Already, to content your just alarm, Have I not cross'd the seas on either side Of Corinth, ask'd if aught were known of Theseus Where Acheron is lost among the Shades, Visited Elis, doubled Toenarus, And sail'd into the sea that saw the fall Of Icarus? Inspired with what new hope, Under what favor'd skies think you to trace His footsteps? Who knows if the king, your father, Wishes the secret of his absence known?

Perchance, while we are trembling for his life, The hero calmly plots some fresh intrigue, And only waits till the deluded fair--

_Hippolytus._ Cease, dear Theramenes, respect the name Of Theseus. Youthful errors have been left Behind, and no unworthy obstacle Detains him. Phaedra long has fix'd a heart Inconstant once, nor need she fear a rival.

In seeking him I shall but do my duty, And leave a place I dare no longer see.

_Theramenes._ Indeed! When, prince, did you begin to dread These peaceful haunts, so dear to happy childhood, Where I have seen you oft prefer to stay, Rather than meet the tumult and the pomp Of Athens and the court? What danger shun you, Or shall I say what grief?

_Hippolytus._ That happy time Is gone, and all is changed, since to these sh.o.r.es The G.o.ds sent Phaedra.

_Theramenes._ I perceive the cause Of your distress. It is the queen whose sight Offends you. With a step-dame's spite she schemed Your exile soon as she set eyes on you.

But if her hatred is not wholly vanish'd, It has at least taken a milder aspect.

Besides, what danger can a dying woman, One too who longs for death, bring on your head?

Can Phaedra, sick'ning of a dire disease Of which she will not speak, weary of life And of herself, form any plots against you?

_Hippolytus._ It is not her vain enmity I fear; Another foe alarms Hippolytus.

I fly, it must be owned, from Aricia, The soul survivor of an impious race.

_Theramenes._ What! You become her persecutor too!

The gentle sister of the cruel sons Of Pallas shared not in their perfidy; Why should you hate such charming innocence?

_Hippolytus._ I should not need to fly, if it were hatred.

_Theramenes._ May I, then, learn the meaning of your flight?[8]

Another device is an intensely inquisitive stranger just returned from foreign parts who listens with patience not always shared by an auditor to any needed preliminary exposition.

_The Opportunity_,[9] by James Shirley, shows an ingenious adaptation of the device of the inquisitive stranger newly come to some city. Aurelio, a gentleman of Milan, coming to Urbino with his friend Pisauro, is mistaken for Borgia, who has been banished from Urbino. As one person after another, greeting Aurelio as Borgia, naturally talks to him of his past, his family, and what is to be expected of him now that he is returned, they identify and relate clearly to one another the chief people whom Aurelio is to meet in the play. A hearer would take in almost unconsciously the needed exposition, so amused would he be at the increasing bewilderment of Aurelio.

Such ways and means as these three--the servant, the confidant, the stranger--Buckingham ridiculed in the late seventeenth century in his _Rehearsal_:

_Enter Gentleman-Usher and Physician_

_Physician._ Sir, by your habit, I should guess you to be the Gentleman-Usher of this sumptuous palace.

_Usher._ And by your gait and fashion, I should almost suspect you rule the healths of both our n.o.ble Kings, under the notion of Physician.

_Physician._ You hit my function right.

_Usher._ And you mine.

_Physician._ Then let's embrace.

_Usher._ Come.

_Physician._ Come.

_Johnson._ Pray, sir, who are those so very civil persons?

_Bayes._ Why, sir, the Gentleman-Usher and Physician of the two Kings of Brentford.

_Johnson._ But, pray, then, how comes it to pa.s.s that they know one another no better?

_Bayes._ Phoo! that's for the better carrying on of the plot.[10]

Another method, talking back to people off stage, as one enters, in such a way as to bring out necessary facts, erence both used and ridiculed centuries ago. This is his use of the device:

_Enter Mysis_

_Mysis._ (_Speaking to the housekeeper within._) I hear, Archilis, I hear: Your orders are to fetch Lesbia. On my word she's a drunken reckless creature, not at all a fit person to take charge of a woman in her first labour: am I to fetch her all the same? (_Comes forward._)[11]