In his boyhood Goethe had also played with a toy theater, and it was a puppet-show piece which first called his attention to the mighty theme of his supreme poem; but the great German poet, captivated as he may have been by his youthful experience, was able in his manhood to free himself from its shackles. He came in time to have a profound insight into the principles of dramatic art, and of the dramaturgic craft. In his old age he talked about the theater freely and frequently to Eckermann; and there are few of his utterances which do not furnish food for reflection. Here is one of them: Writing for the stage is something peculiar; and he who does not understand it had better leave it alone. Every one thinks that an interesting fact will appear interesting on the boards--nothing of the kind! Things may be very pretty to read, and very pretty to think about; but as soon as they are put upon the stage the effect is quite different; and that which has charmed us in the closet will probably fall flat on the boards.... Writing for the stage is a trade that one must understand, and requires a talent that one must possess. Both are uncommon, and where they are not combined, we have scarcely any good result. That Stevenson had the native gift of the dramatist is undisputable, and Sir Arthur Pinero in his lecture was able to make this clear. But "writing for the stage is also a trade that one must acquire"; and when Stevenson sought to acquire it he apprenticed himself to Skelt not to Sardou, to Redington and Pollock, not to Augier and Dumas. (1914.) [Illustration: Grindoff and banditti carousing. Lower half of Plate No. 5, Pollock's characters in the 'Miller and His Men'] P.S.--After the publication of this paper in _Scribner's Magazine_, a friendly reader in Great Britain was kind enough to copy out for me this Skeltian lyric, which appeared in the London _Fun_ in 1868, and which was probably rimed by Henry S. Leigh: AN EARLY STAGE Ah me! since first, long, long ago, I learned to love the British stage, It has--or I have--altered so, It scarce receives my patronage! Where are the villain's spangled tabs, His cloak, his ringlets, and his belt? Where are his scowls, his growls, his stabs, As shown of old by Park and Skelt? Once was I manager myself, And played the 'Miller and his Men'; My company--ah, happy elf! I had no trouble with them then-- They never sulked, forgot their lines, Threw up their parts, or asked for "gelt"-- For as the reader p'r'aps divines-- I got them all of Park and Skelt.