the dramatist makes us feel it here to be the only solution. Mr. Pinero has already achieved the distinction of a “Pinero Birthday Book”; while “Arthur Wing Pinero: a Study,” by H. Hamilton Fyfe, a book of two hundred and fifty pages, with a bibliography, reviews his plays _seriatim_. Without pushing the analogy too far, we may call Mr. Pinero and Mr. Bernard Shaw the Goldsmith and Sheridan of the modern stage. In Pinero, as in Goldsmith, humor more than wit is the prevailing impression. That “brilliancy” which is often so distressing is absent from his comedy, whose surfaces do not corruscate, but absorb the light softly. His satire is good-natured, his worldliness not hard, and his laughter is a neighbor to tears. Shaw is an Irishman, a journalistic free-lance and Socialist pamphleteer. He has published three collections of plays—“Pleasant,” “Unpleasant,” and “For Puritans”—accompanied with amusingly truculent prefaces, discussing, among other things, whether his pieces are “better than Shakespeare’s.” Two of his comedies, “Arms and the Man” and “The Devil’s Disciple,” were put on in New York by Mr. Mansfield as long ago, if I am right, as 1894 and 1897, respectively. “Arms and the Man” is an effective theatre piece, with a quick movement, ingenious misunderstandings, and several exciting moments. Like his fellow countryman, Sheridan, Mr. Shaw is clever in inventing situations, though he professes scorn of them as bits of old theatrical lumber, a concession to the pit. “Candida” was given in America a season or two ago, and the problems of character which it proposes have been industriously discussed by the dramatic critics and by social circles everywhere. The author is reported to have been amused at this, and to have described his heroine as a most unprincipled woman—a view quite inconsistent with the key kindly afforded in the stage directions. These, in all Shaw’s plays, are explicit and profuse, comprising details of costume, gesture, expression, the furniture and decorations of the scene, with full character analyses of the _dramatis personae_ in the manner of Ben Jonson. The italicized portions of the printed play are little less important than the speeches; and small license of interpretation is left to the players. This is an extra-dramatic method, the custom of the novel overflowing upon the stage. But Mr. Shaw defends the usage and asks: “What would we not give for the copy of ‘Hamlet’ used by Shakespeare at rehearsal, with the original ‘business’ scrawled by the prompter’s pencil? And if we had, in addition, the descriptive directions which the author gave on the stage: above all, the character sketches, however brief, by which he tried to convey to the actor the sort of person he meant him to incarnate! Well, we should have had all this if Shakespeare, instead of merely writing out his lines, had prepared the plays for publication in competition with fiction as elaborate as that of Meredith.” “I would give half a dozen of