r is indispensable to
enduring interest in drama. With these provisos, I suggest a
reconstruction of our theories of dramatic interest, in which mere
first-night curiosity shall be relegated to the subordinate place which
by right belongs to it.

Nevertheless, we must come back to the point that there is always the
ordeal of the first night to be faced, and that the plays are
comparatively few which have lived-down a bad first-night. It is true
that specifically first-night merit is a trivial matter compared with
what may be called thousandth-performance merit; but it is equally true
that there is no inconsistency between the two orders of merit, and that
a play will never be less esteemed on its thousandth performance for
having achieved a conspicuous first-night success. The practical lesson
which seems to emerge from these considerations is that a wise
theatrical policy would seek to diminish the all-importance of the
first-night, and to give a play a greater chance of recovery than it has
under present conditions, from the depressing effect of an inauspicious
production. This is the more desirable as its initial misadventure may
very likely be due to external and fortuitous circumstances, wholly
unconnected with its inherent qualities.

At the same time, we are bound to recognize that, from the very nature
of the case, our present inquiry must be far more concerned with
first-night than with thousandth-performance merit. Craftsmanship can,
within limits, be acquired, genius cannot; and it is craftsmanship that
pilots us through the perils of the first performance, genius that
carries us on to the apotheosis of the thousandth. Therefore, our
primary concern must be with the arousing and sustaining of curiosity,
though we should never forget that it is only a means to the ultimate
enlistment of the higher and more abiding forms of interest.

* * * * *

[Footnote 1: The view that the dramatist has only to think of pleasing
himself is elsewhere dealt with.]

[Footnote 2: Two dramatists who have read these pages in proof, exclaim
at this passage. The one says, "No, no!" the other asks, "Why?" I can
only reiterate that, where there exists a strong and generally accepted
tradition, the dramatist not only runs counter to it at his peril, but
goes outside the true domain of his art in so doing. New truth, in
history, must be established either by new documents, or by a careful
and detaile