The next evening he made it.
Five months previously he had sent the manager three great, large
tragedies. He knew the aversion a theatrical manager has to read a
manuscript play, not recommended by influential folk; an aversion which
always has been carried to superstition. So he hit on the following
scheme:
He wrote Mr. Rich a letter; in this he told Mr. Rich that he (Triplet)
was aware what a quantity of trash is offered every week to a manager,
how disheartening it must be to read it at all, and how natural, after a
while, to read none. Therefore, he (Triplet) had provided that Mr. Rich
might economize his time, and yet not remain in ignorance of the dramatic
treasure that lay ready to his hand.
"The soul of a play," continued Triplet, "is the plot or fable. A
gentleman of your experience can decide at once whether a plot or story
is one to take the public!"
So then he drew out, in full, the three plots. He wrote these plots in
verse! Heaven forgive us all, he really did. There were also two margins
left; on one, which was narrow, he jotted down the _locale_ per page of
the most brilliant passages; on the other margin, which was as wide as
the column of the plot, he made careful drawings of the personages in the
principal dramatic situations; scrolls issued from their mouths, on which
were written the words of fire that were flowing from each in these
eruptions of the dramatic action.
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