Ernest. Not so. Bad as you or I may be—not worse. Neither good nor bad, and truly not repugnant. I am not such a cynic—neither a misanthrope, nor one so out of love with life as to fall into such unfairness.
D. Julian. What, then, is the reason?
Ernest. The reason, Don Julian, is that there is no material room in the Scenario for this personage.
D. Julian. Holy Virgin! What do you mean? Is it by chance a mythological drama with Titans in it?
Ernest. Titans, yes, but in the modern sense of the word.
D. Julian. That is to say?
Ernest. That is to say, this person is … everybody.
D. Julian. Everybody! You are right. There is no room for everybody on the stage. It is an incontrovertible truth that has more than once been demonstrated.
Ernest. Then you agree with me?
D. Julian. Not entirely. Everybody may be condensed in a few types and characters. This is matter beyond my depth, but I have always understood that the masters have more than once accomplished it.
Ernest. Yes, but in my case it is to condemn me, not to write my drama.
D. Julian. Why?
Ernest. For many reasons it would be difficult to explain,—above all, at this late hour.
D. Julian. Never mind. Give me a few.
Ernest. Look! Each individual of this entire mass, each head of this monster of a thousand heads, of this Titan of the century, whom I call everybody, takes part in my play for a flying moment, to utter but one word, fling a
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