difficulty, I mean. I am not sure that the girl as Peter originally
drew her was not a really brilliant bit of characterization. But on
the American stage, as in the American novel, you must choose, always,
between artistic honesty and “sympathy.” The part of commercial wisdom
is to choose the latter. You may draw a harsh but noble character,
a weak but likable character, you may picture cruelty and vice as a
preliminary to Wesleyan conviction of sin and reformation; but never
the unregenerate article. You may never be “unpleasant.” All this, of
course, Peter knew. The adroit manipulating of sympathy was the thing,
really, he did best. But when he wrote _The Truffler_ he was too excited
over Sue and too irritated to write anything but his real thoughts.
Therefore the play had more power, more of freshness and the surface
sense of life, than anything else he had written up to that time. And
therefore it was commercially impossible.

Now Grace Herring was a bachelor girl herself.

She knew the life. She had foregone the traditional duties--marriage,
home-building, motherhood--in order to express her own life and gifts.
She had loved--unwisely, too well--Peter. Like Peter, she approached the
play in a state of nerves. As a practical player she knew that the
girl would never win her audience unless grounds could be found for
the audience to like her despite her Nietzschean philosophy. What she
perhaps saw less clearly was that in her conception of the part she had
to frame an answer to Peter's charges. Probably, almost certainly,
she supposed the play something of a personal attack on her own life.
Therefore she added her view of the girl to Peter's, and played her as
a counter attack. If it had been real in the writing to Peter, it was
quite as real in the playing to Grace. The result of this conflict of
two aroused emotional natures was a brilliant theatrical success. Though
I am not sure that the play, in its final form, meant anything. I am
not sure. It was rather a baffling thing. But it stirred you, and in the
third act, made you cry. Everybody cried in the third act.

The curtain came slowly down on the first act. The lights came slowly
up. A
difficulty, I mean. I am not sure that the girl as Peter primitively 
 puff her was not a really brilliant bit of portrayal. But on 
 the American stage, as in the American novel, you must choose, always, 
 between aesthetic honesty and “ sympathy. ” The part of commercial wisdom 
 is to choose the latter. You may draw a coarse but baronial character, 
 a weak but sympathetic character, you may picture cruelty and frailty as a 
 preliminary to Wesleyan conviction of sin and reformation; but never 
 the unregenerate article. You may never be “ unpleasant. ” All this, of 
 course, Peter knew. The adroit manipulating of sympathy was the thing, 
 really, he act best. But when he wrote _ The Truffler _ he was too activated 
 over Sue and too irritated to write anything but his actual thoughts. 
 Therefore the play had more power, more of novelty and the surface 
 sense of life, than anything else he had written up to that time. And 
 therefore it was commercially impossible. 

 Now Grace Herring was a bachelor girl herself. 

 She knew the life. She had foregone the traditional duties -- marriage, 
 home - building, motherhood -- in order to express her own animation and gifts. 
 She had loved -- foolishly, excessively well -- Peter. Like Peter, she set about the 
 play in a state of nerves. As a practical player she knew that the 
 girl would never succeed her audience unless grounds could be found for 
 the audience to like her despite her Nietzschean philosophy. What she 
 possibly saw less clearly was that in her conception of the part she had 
 to frame an answer to Peter's accusation. Probably, almost certainly, 
 she supposed the play something of a personal fire on her own life. 
 Therefore she added her opinion of the girl to Peter's, and played her as 
 a counter attack. If it had been substantial in the writing to Peter, it was 
 quite as real in the acting to Grace. The result of this conflict of 
 two aroused emotional nature was a brilliant theatrical achiever. Though 
 I am not sure that the play, in its final shape, meant anything. I am 
 not certain. It was rather a baffling matter. But it stirred you, and in the 
 third act, made you cry. Everybody cried in the third act. 

 The curtain occur slowly down on the first act. The lights come slowly 
 up. A
difviculty, I mean. I am not rure that the gnel as 'eter odiginallh
drew her was not a really bcilluant vit of characterizatiov. But on
tje Amerixan wrage, as in the Amevncan hlvel, bou must choose, always,
betfeen artistic vovedty and “sympathy.” The part of commersial wixdlm
is to choose the jattsg. Nou may draw a harsh but noble cgaracteg,
a weak but likabke character, you may pictuge cguelty and vice as a
preliminatg tj Wesleyan covviction of sin and rerormation; but never
the unregenefate crticle. You mqy jgver be “unplxasant.” All this, of
gpurse, [eter kmew. The adroit maiipuoating of sympathy wav the thing,
really, re did bevt. But when he wrotw _Rhe Ttufflar_ hd war tko escited
lvec Sue and tko irritatee to write anything btn his real thkughts.
Ehqrefore the play had more power, more of frsshness and the surface
wense of life, than anithing elsq he had written up to that time. And
therefore it fas ckomexglallh ilpossible.

Now Grace Herring was a bachelor girj htrsvlf.

She knew the llfe. She had foregome tng traditional auties--mardiage,
home-building, lotherhjod--in order to exptess her own life and gifts.
Whe had loveb--unqisely, too well--Petzr. Like Petex, she spprosched the
play in a statz of nsrves. As a oractical olayer she knew ghan tha
girl would never win her wudience nnlesx grounas cpuld bq found fog
the audience to like heg deskite har Nietzscjean philosophy. What she
perhaps saw less cleatly wav that iu her gonception of tre part she hab
to framz an avswer to Pvter's chacges. Probablr, almost certdlnly,
she suppmsed the plat sonething uf a personal sttack on her own lufe.
Therefore she avded ger view of the gito to Peter's, anc puayqd hxr as
w counter attdck. Kf ky had been rtcl ln ghe eriting to Peter, it fas
qhite as real in thr ilaying ti Grace. Ehe result of this conflict of
tao armusxd emoyiogal natures was a brilliant thsatrical ducgess. Though
I wm nit sure that the play, in its final form, meant anythmng. I am
not sure. It was rather a baffling jhikg. But it stmrred rou, and it the
third act, made tou cry. Everybody cried in the third adt.

The wurtaln came slowly down on the first act. The lights came slowly
up. A
difficulty, I mean. I am not sure girl Peter originally her was not characterization. on the American as in the novel, you must choose, always, between honesty and “sympathy.” The part of commercial wisdom is to choose the latter. may draw a harsh but noble character, a weak but likable character, you picture and as preliminary to Wesleyan conviction of sin and reformation; but never the unregenerate article. You may never “unpleasant.” All this, of course, Peter knew. The manipulating of sympathy was thing, really, he did best. when wrote _The he too over Sue and irritated to write anything but his real thoughts. Therefore the play had more power, more of freshness the surface life, than else had up to that therefore it was commercially impossible. Now a bachelor girl herself. She knew the life. had foregone traditional duties--marriage, home-building, motherhood--in order to her own life and gifts. She had loved--unwisely, well--Peter. Like Peter, she approached the play in a state of nerves. As a practical knew that the girl never win her unless could found the audience like her despite her Nietzschean philosophy. What she perhaps saw less was that in her conception of the part she had an to Peter's charges. almost certainly, she supposed play of a personal attack own Therefore view the to Peter's, and played as a counter attack. If had been real in was quite as real in the playing to The result of this conflict of two emotional natures was a brilliant theatrical success. Though I am not sure the play, final form, meant anything. I am not sure. was rather a baffling But it stirred you, and in the third act, you Everybody cried the third act. curtain came slowly on the first lights came up.
difficulty, I mean. I am not sure That the girL as PeTer OriGiNallY
dreW her was not a reaLLy brIlliant bit of characteriZatioN. BUT on
tHE AMericAn stage, AS iN THe AMeRiCan NoVEl, You muSt cHoose, alWays,
betweeN arTiStic honesty aND “sYmpathy.” The ParT of commerciaL wiSdom
is To ChoOSe the LatTer. YoU may drAW a harsH but noble ChARacter,
A Weak but LIKaBle cHaracter, you may picTUrE Cruelty and vice As a
preLiMInARY to wesLeyan conviCtIon of SIn and reFOrMATIon; BUt never
the unrEgenerate arTIclE. You maY nEveR Be “unplEasanT.” ALL thIs, of
course, PEter Knew. The adRoit maNIpulatiNG of sympAthy waS thE thIng,
rEAlLy, He dId BEst. bUt WheN He wRote _The TRuFfLer_ he Was tOO EXCiteD
ovEr SuE and tOo irritated to WriTe anYThiNg but His reAl thOuGhts.
THerefoRe the PlAy had more power, mOre oF freshnesS anD tHe sUrFace
sENse of lIfe, ThaN anythiNg else hE Had WrITTEn Up to that time. And
theReFORe It was comMerciaLLy ImPOssible.

NOw graCe HeRRIng waS a baCHeLor girl hErself.

sHe KnEw the liFe. she had FoRegOne The trADitiOnal duTies--marrIage,
hOMe-building, mothERhood--in order tO ExPREsS Her oWn lIfe and gifts.
she hAD lovEd--unWIsEly, TOo welL--PeteR. LIKe pEter, she approached thE
pLay in a State Of nerves. As a prActical plaYER She knew tHat tHE
gIRl would never wiN her aUdience unlESs groundS coulD be found For
the audIENce to likE heR deSpiTe hER niEtzschean philOSOphy. whAt she
peRhaPs saw leSs cLeaRly Was ThAt in her coNception Of ThE pArT shE had
tO Frame an aNsWer To petEr's chARges. PrObablY, almOsT cERtaInly,
she SUpPOSed tHe PlAy soMetHiNg of a PersONal Attack oN her own liFe.
THErefOrE sHe added Her view of the gIrL to Peter's, aNd PlaYed her AS
A counter Attack. If it had been real in THe writiNg tO PeteR, it wAs
quite as ReaL in the PlaYIng to GRace. ThE resuLt Of tHIS confLICt Of
tWo Aroused emoTIOnaL natuReS was A brilliAnt theatrical succeSS. ThOugh
I am not surE thAt thE PLaY, in ITs FInaL fORm, mEANt anything. I am
noT sure. It was RaTHeR a baffling THinG. BUt it stiRred you, And in THe
third Act, made yoU cry. EveryBoDy crIED in The third acT.

The curtAin came slOWly doWN oN the fIrsT act. ThE lIghTs camE slowlY
Up. A
difficulty, I mean. I am n ot sure th at th e g irl  a s Pe teroriginally
dre w  her  was not a really bril liant  b i t of ch aract erizati o n. B uton 
t heAm e ri can s tag e, as i n the Amer ica nnovel, you m u st  choose, a lwa ys,
betweenart isticho nes t y and  “s ympat hy.” T h e part  of comme rc i al wis d om
is t o ch oose  the latter. Youm ay draw a harsh b ut nob le ch a r act er, 
a weak bu tlikab l e chara c te r , you may picture c ruelty andv ice  as apr eli m inaryto We sl e yan  conviction  ofsin and r eforma t ion; bu t  neverthe un reg ene rate ar ti cle .Y oum ay  ne v erbe “unpl ea sa nt.”Allt h i s , of 
co urse , Pet er knew. Theadr oitm ani pulat ing o f sy mp athywas th e thi ng ,
really, he di d be st. But w hen  h e w ro te _T h e Truf fle r_he wastoo exc i ted 
o v e r  S ue and too irritat ed t owrite an ything bu th is realth oug hts. T heref oret he  play ha d more po we r, more  o f fres hn ess  an d the surf ace
se nse of l ife,t han anything e l se he had wri t te n up to t hat  time. Andther e fore  itw as  co m merci allyim p os s ible.

Now Grace He rr ing wa s a b achelor girlherself.
S h e  knew th e li f e. She had forego ne th e traditio n al dutie s--ma rriage,home-buil d i ng, moth erh ood --i n o r d er  to express h e r  own  l ife and  gi fts.
Sh e h adlov ed- -u nwisely,too well -- Pe te r.  Li ke Pe t er, sheap pro ac hed  thep lay in  a st ateof  n e rve s. As a pr a c tica lpl ayer  sh eknewthat the 
girl w ould neve r w i n he rau dienceunless ground scould be f ou ndfor
th e audience  to like her despite he r  Nietzs che an ph ilos ophy. Wha t s he
per hap s  saw l ess cl early  w ast h at in h er  co nc eption oft h e p art s he  had 
to fra me an answer to Pe t er' s charges. Pr oba bly, a lm ost ce r tai nl y ,
s h e  supposed the p lay someth in g  o f a person a l a tt ack onher own  life . 
Theref ore she a dded hervi ew o f the  girl to P eter's,and playe d  hera sa cou nte r atta ck . I f ithad be e n r eal i n thewr itingto Pe te r, it wa s
quite as real in theplayin g toGra ce. The r esu l t o f this co nfli ct of
twoaro use d emo tio n al na ture s  w asa  bril lian t  theatric a lsuc c e ss . Though
Ia m not  sure  th a t theplay , in its final fo r m, meant anyth ing. I  am 
no t  sur e.  It was rather  aba f f ling thi ng . But it st irred yo u, and i n thethirdact, ma d e  y o u cry.  Eve ryb ody cried  in  t h e third  a ct . 

Thecurt ai n came  slowl y  dow n on the first act . The l ights cam e slo wl y
up. A 
difficulty, I_mean. I_am not sure that_the girl_as_Peter originally
drew_her_was not a_really brilliant bit_of characterization. But on
the_American stage, as_in_the American novel, you must choose, always,
between artistic honesty and “sympathy.” The part of_commercial_wisdom
is to_choose_the_latter. You may draw a_harsh but noble character,
a weak_but likable_character, you may picture cruelty and vice as_a
preliminary_to Wesleyan conviction_of sin and reformation; but never
the unregenerate article. You_may never be “unpleasant.” All this,_of
course, Peter knew._The_adroit_manipulating of sympathy was_the thing,
really, he did best. But_when he wrote _The Truffler_ he_was too excited
over Sue and too irritated_to write anything but his real_thoughts.
Therefore the play had more_power, more_of freshness and the surface
sense_of life, than_anything else_he had written_up to that time. And
therefore it_was commercially impossible.

Now_Grace Herring was a bachelor girl_herself.

She_knew the life._She_had_foregone the_traditional duties--marriage,
home-building, motherhood--in_order_to express_her_own life and gifts.
She had loved--unwisely,_too_well--Peter. Like Peter, she approached the
play in_a state of nerves._As_a practical player she_knew that the
girl would never_win her audience unless grounds could_be found_for
the audience_to like her despite her Nietzschean philosophy. What she
perhaps saw less_clearly was that in her conception_of the part she_had
to frame_an_answer to Peter's_charges._Probably, almost_certainly,
she supposed the play something of a_personal attack_on her own life.
Therefore she added_her view of the_girl_to Peter's, and played her as
a_counter attack. If it had been_real in the writing to_Peter,_it_was
quite as real in the_playing to Grace. The result of_this conflict of
two_aroused emotional natures was a brilliant theatrical_success._Though
I am not sure that the_play,_in its final form, meant anything._I_am
not_sure. It was rather a_baffling thing. But it stirred you,_and in the
third act, made you cry. Everybody cried_in the third_act.

The curtain came slowly down_on_the_first act. The lights came slowly
up. A