umed that
those who have never felt it wish to hear about it, and that those who
have, desire to revive their memories. Indeed, many experts imagine
there are very few topics which will lure the public to the box-office.

There is before us at the moment a letter from Henry Irving, in answer
to a suggestion that Ibsen's great drama _The Pretenders_ was worthy of
production by him, and he says, "Of the power of Ibsen's _Pretenders_ I
am quite sensible, but unfortunately there are considerations which
prevent me from accepting the suggestion. In the first place, I believe
the theme of ambition has no great dramatic hold, or a very slender one,
on the playgoing public of to-day.... I am compelled as a manager to
take these things into account. Were I conducting an endowed theatre,
the case would be different." Many things have happened in Stageland
since April 1897, when this letter was written by Irving, and it is by
no means improbable that the scope of the theatre has been somewhat
extended. After all, it is fantastic that money, the element which plays
the greatest part in the lives of most of us, should generally be
treated superficially if at all, and, as a rule, when not neglected,
should be handled without accuracy or even verisimilitude of detail.

One might refer to _Macbeth_ as a successful play with ambition as its
theme. Since Irving's letter was written a fair number of unsentimental
plays have been produced and well received, such, for instance, as
_Strife_ and _The Silver Box_ and _The Voysey Inheritance_, all works of
great quality.

Some Unsuccessful Dramatists

When considering some of the criticisms upon _Becket_, and accepting
them as accurate, one is inclined to ask why Tennyson failed as a
dramatist. That he did, judged by the ordinary standard, can hardly be
denied, nor could any degree of success with _Becket_ disprove the
statement, since the acted work is a bold, free adaptation of the
printed play. He was anxious for success as a playwright, and in fact no
fewer than five of his plays have been presented on the stage--all of
them published after he was sixty-six years old. Now, Tennyson,
undoubtedly, from every point of view that one can classify exactly, was
far better equipped for playwriting than hundreds of successful
dramatists--yet he failed. Why?

The puzzle does not end nor begin with him. One can name a number of
literary men of great rank who have written vainly for the stage, t