and every nerve in the actor’s body, is liable to break at any moment. Usually, it is true, they do not break, but despite this fact, the situation is a distressing one, nor can it possibly be improved.
There will be no talk here of the dramatic art and its mysteries, but simply of the theatrical trade and its mysteries. It certainly would be far more agreeable to discuss the possibilities of the ideal theatre, and the ideal manner of producing a play, but all such talk of ideals only hides the complicated and marvellous reality which actually exists for us. We are not brooding here upon the lurking possibilities of the Collective Drama, or the Constructivist décor; in a theatre all things are possible; it is a magician’s house of miracles. Indeed, the greatest miracle of all is that it goes on at all. If the curtain does happen to rise at eight o’clock, please remember that this is merely a fortunate coincidence, or simply a miracle.
Although we have avoided the temptation of talking about Art, all the same, we should
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