The herald., 1896-02-09

cumstances, we are constrained to say,
uncomfortable to her and uncon genial
to her art. Central Music hall is not a
cafe chantant 1t is a goodly and a
godly place, + t they don't sell drinks
there, one may not smoke in the par
quet, and, as far as we know, the can
can has never been danced on it's stage.
From the pleasant and som etimes
pious performances Of the singers,
pianists, preachers and lecturers with
in it's orderly PRECINCTS to Mile. Gull
bert is rather FAR Cry.
It is really but fair to consider this
feature Of Mile. Guilbsrt's debut here,
for she encountered an audience com.
posed doubtless of the most substan-
tisl. cultured and socially prominent
people in the city, but one which was
not in reality in sympathy with her.
While perhaps one person in ten, which
is liberal estimate, understood what
Mile. Guilbert sang and a slightly
larger proportion appreciated her art
as an actress, it was evident that the
majority we're there to see freak from
Paris, and they we're not in sympathy
with her because they did not under
stand her words, her gestures, her
winks or her mods. They we're not
shocked-as perhaps some of them pri-
vately hoped to be--for the same excel
lent reason.
Yet, it is probably fact that in her
line Yvette Guilbert is something Of a
genius. She has certain things in COM
mon with other Parisians of the music
hall stage we have heard. Her voice
has the familiar hard, tin-pan quality,
which is prod 1ced, we believe, by the
effort of the singer to make herself
heard above the chatter of the drink
ing throng, the clink of glasses and
the cries of tho walters in the cafe
chantant. She gives us an extravagant
but thoroughly useful supplement of
pantomine in all the songs she sings,
and she evidently knows the value of
the unusual in posture. for the angles
which her figures lines assume at
times are simply unique. But in these
regards she is very much like any
other French music hall singer who
has wrenched herself away from the
beloved boulevards to poster herself
with wretched yankee dollars.
Yvetts Guilbsrt is genius, however,
as we have said before, in her way. She
is the new thing--the real and true
artist in great many ways. We may
half classify her, but she is all ab-
normal specimen of rare species,
after all. There is magnetism in her.
You can't look at anyone
or anything else not even
at the astonishing costumes
of the haut ton in the boxes and ths
bewildered faces not far away from
there-when Yvette Guilbert is singing
the song of the wretched drunkard of
the city streets, La Soularde. She has
art enough, and soul enough, to make
sure that no ones attention shall wan
der from her, even in an audience
nine-tenths of which are practically
unable to grasp the III ,aning of her
words. She is not what you would call
pretty, and her figure, while not vely
tall, gives one the idea Of abnormal
length in its lines. Her hair is comely
shade Of chestnut or golden brown-a
rich tint, and warmer than anything
else about her in makeup. Eyes very
bright and wicked, an unobtruslve nose,
and a mouth Of modest size. but quick
ly changed ia shape according to the
emotion pictured by the actress, COM
plete the principal features of her
face. 1t has been truly reported by
those who have seen her abroad that
her arms are surprisingly eloquent.
She covers her hands and erms al
most to the shoulders with black kid
gloves. When she waves them the
black arms are the moro noticeable be-
cause she weare very lcw,cut evening
dress-an inch lower, at least, than we
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