From three of the ablest critics of the “theatre crowd” I quote a tabloid statement: 

“The theatre is a function of the crowd,” says Brander Matthews, “and the work of the dramatist is conditioned by the audience to which he meant to present it.  In the main, this influence is wholesome, for it tends to bring about a dealing with themes of universal interest.  To some extent, it may be limiting and even harmful—­but to what extent we cannot yet determine in our present ignorance of that psychology of the crowd which LeBon has analyzed so interestingly.”

Here is M. LeBon’s doctrine neatly condensed by Clayton Hamilton:  “The mental qualities in which men differ from one another are the acquired qualities of intellect and character; but the qualities in which they are one are basic passions of the race.  A crowd, therefore, is less intellectual and more emotional than the individuals that compose it.  It is less reasonable, less judicious, less disinterested, more credulous, more primitive, more partisan; and hence, a man, by the mere fact that he forms a part of an organized crowd, descends several rungs on the ladder of civilization.  Even the most cultured and intellectual of men, when he forms an atom of a crowd, loses consciousness of his acquired mental qualities, and harks back to his primal nakedness of mind.  The dramatist, therefore, because he writes for the crowd, writes for an uncivilized and uncultivated mind, a mind richly human, vehement in approbation, violent in disapproval, easily credulous, eagerly enthusiastic, boyishly heroic, and carelessly thinking.”

And Clayton Hamilton himself adds that, “. . .both in its sentiments and in its opinions, the crowd is hugely commonplace.  It is incapable of original thought and of any but inherited emotion.  It has no speculation in its eyes.  What it feels was felt before the flood; and what it thinks, its fathers thought before it.  The most effective moments in the theatre are those that appeal to commonplace emotions—­love of women, love of home, love of country, love of right, anger, jealousy, revenge, ambition, lust and treachery.”

[end footnote]

2.  What “Good Drama” Is

By what standards, then, do producers decide whether a play has at least a good chance of success?  How is it possible for a manager to pick a successful play even once in a while?  Why is it that managers do not produce failures all the time?

Leaving outside of our consideration the question of changeable fashions in themes, and the commercial element (which includes the number of actors required, the scenery, costumes and similar factors), let us devote our attention, as the manager does, to the determining element—­the story.