of the family will prove to be the white sheep, it is only because we know that it is Ibsen’s habit to attack respectability and criticize accepted moral values—­it is not because of anything that he has told us, or hinted to us, in the play itself.  In no other case does he leave our interest at such a loose end as in this, his prentice-work in modern drama.  In The League of Youth, an earlier play, but of an altogether lighter type, the interest is much more definitely carried forward at the end of the first act.  Stensgaard has attacked Chamberlain Bratsberg in a rousing speech, and the Chamberlain has been induced to believe that the attack was directed not against himself, but against his enemy Monsen.  Consequently he invites Stensgaard to his great dinner-party, and this invitation Stensgaard regards as a cowardly attempt at conciliation.  We clearly see a crisis looming ahead, when this misunderstanding shall be cleared up; and we consequently look forward with lively interest to the dinner-party of the second act—­which ends, as a matter of fact, in a brilliant scene of comedy.

The principle, to recapitulate, is simply this:  a good first act should never end in a blank wall.  There should always be a window in it, with at least a glimpse of something attractive beyond.  In Pillars of Society there is a window, indeed; but it is of ground glass.

* * * * *

[Footnote 1:  That great story-teller, Alexandra Dumas pere, those a straightforward way of carrying forward the interest at the end of the first act of Henri III et sa Cour. The Due de Guise, insulted by Saint-Megrin, beckons to his henchman and says, as the curtain falls, "Qu’on me cherche les memes hommes qui ont assassine Dugast!"]

[Footnote 2:  There are limits to the validity of this rule, as applied to minor incidents.  For example, it may sometimes be a point of art to lead the audience to expect the appearance of one person, when in fact another is about to enter.  But it is exceedingly dangerous to baffle the carefully fostered anticipation of an important scene.  See Chapters XVII and XXI.]

BOOK III

THE MIDDLE

CHAPTER XI

TENSION AND ITS SUSPENSION

In the days of the five-act dogma, each act was supposed to have its special and pre-ordained function.  Freytag assigns to the second act, as a rule, the Steigerung or heightening—­the working-up, one might call it—­of the interest.  But the second act, in modern plays, has often to do all the work of the three middle acts under the older dispensation; wherefore the theory of their special functions has more of a historical than of a practical interest.  For our present purposes, we may treat the interior section of a play as a unit, whether it consist of one, two, or three acts.