ffective, but because its
effectiveness is very cheap and has been sadly overdone. It occurs in
two varieties: either a proud but penniless damsel is married to a
wealthy parvenu, or a woman of culture and refinement is married to a
"rough diamond." In both cases the action consists of the transformation
of a nominal into a real marriage; and it is almost impossible, in these
days, to lend any novelty to the process. In the good old _Lady of
Lyons_ the theme was decked in trappings of romantic absurdity, which
somehow harmonized with it. One could hear in it a far-off echo of
revolutionary rodomontade. The social aspect of the matter was
emphasized, and the satire on middle-class snobbery was cruelly
effective. The personal aspect, on the other hand--the unfulfilment of
the nominal marriage--was lightly and discreetly handled, according to
early-Victorian convention. In later days--from the time of M. George
Ohnet's _Maitre de Forges_ onwards--this is the aspect on which
playwrights have preferred to dwell. Usually, the theme shades off into
the almost equally hackneyed _Still Waters Run Deep_ theme; for there is
apt to be an aristocratic lover whom the unpolished but formidable
husband threatens to shoot or horsewhip, and thereby overcomes the last
remnant of repugnance in the breast of his haughty spouse. In _The
Ironmaster_ the lover was called the Duc de Bligny, or, more commonly,
the Dook de Bleeny; but he has appeared under many aliases. In the chief
American version of the theme, Mr. Vaughn Moody's _Great Divide_, the
lover is dispensed with altogether, being inconsistent, no doubt, with
the austere manners of Milford Corners, Mass. In one of the recent
French versions, on the other hand--M. Bernstein's _Samson_--the
aristocratic lover is almost as important a character as the virile,
masterful, plebeian husband. It appears from this survey--which might be
largely extended--that there are several ways of handling the theme; but
there is no way of renewing and deconventionalizing it. No doubt it has
a long life before it on the plane of popular melodrama, but scarcely,
one hopes, on any higher plane.

Another theme which ought to be relegated to the theatrical lumber-room
is that of patient, inveterate revenge. This form of vindictiveness is,
from a dramatic point of view, an outworn passion. It is too obviously
irrational and anti-social to pass muster in modern costume. The actual
vendetta may possibly survive i