Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1901-01-15
AMUSEMENTS.

| belong to them by right of discovery, and
| the public's applause is theirs by right or
| conquest. This fact alone would be suffi-
! cient to inspire respect-almost awe-wltn-
| out considering that the regulations OF
| these two players represent noble lineage
| of world-famed successes, whose origin
| dates back even beyond the memory of
many more or less opinionated piaygoers OF
the present generation. To consider what
| ever they may have to offer, otherwise
| than with respect, would be commonplace
fippancy; to accept all that they may
| choose to offer with object and unquestlon-
| ing adulation, would be serviie nattery
no less repugnant to- an honest artstIc
| sense. 1t is something well worth Whlie
| to see the play performed by those artists
whose efforts reflect most closely the origl-
| nal inspiration.
! 1t would be a palpabIe affectation for the
| Anglo-Saxon auditor, who has lived much
| at home to discuss the play other than
from an Anglo-Saxon point OF view: Inc
| gentle Chaucer sounded note OF so1t sar
| casm concerning the devotion OF his own
| time to Gallo precedent in matters or re-
| fnement He describes the prioress as
! speaking "Frensch'' full fair and featy.
| "Aftur the scole of Stratford attic BoWe,
For Frensch of Paris was to hire unknowe.
| Last night Bernhardt and Coquelln mad
| the advantage of one of the most fashlon-
| able audiences that Washington can as.
| semble: diplomats. to whom the dictlon OF
the play appealed with all its native deli
| cacy, and travelled people, whose familiarity
| with the language may reasonably De as
| sumed to have gone far beyond the lnlta-
| tons of the menu and the Mandy phrase
| book for continental tourists. 1t was re-
| sponsive audience too. 1t laughed and APP
| plauded with gracious approval, ana al
| ways let us devoutly trust in precisely the
| right place ''L'Aiglon'' has been so COM
petently translated and so carefully pro
| duced in English that it is difficult to give
| the French version its due consideration as
! i, xy.T,i .,tt ton re a.
| triutic devotion is so intensely impressed
| that it might easily inspire determination
| to defy precedent, and, while admitting the
| dexterty of the Frenchman IN devising
| plots and perceiving possibilities of situa-
| ton to declare boldly in favor OF our own
! cradle tongue vehicle for heroic poetry
| and of our own stage as medium Tor the
| highest dramatic expression STRONG ar
| gument fno argument is absolutely irrefu-
| table, might be offered to show that far
| from being weakened by translation and
| reproduction in English, the play has been
! strengthened Men of profound scholarship
/ have riSked ecclesiastical dsrepute by aver
| ring that the Old Testament became the
| eternal marvel of literature that 1t now is
party through the efforts OF copy1sts ana
| tranSlatorS.
| The dominant genius of the French stage
| is Molere-a comedian. The dominant
| genius of the English stage is Shakespeare.
| who was never an actor worth mentioning;
| only poet. The limitations of blank verse,
such as the writer of English tragedy en-
| ploys are but slight The French literature
| must bow down and worship the eternal
| rhyming couplet; an artifice OF sound, which
| is more in danger of impeding than of ac-
| celebrating the flow of sense. French is the
| language of politeness ana Of diplomacy.
| English is the language Of men whose an
! cest5rs fought hard. roundly and
| blushed over broken promises. French has
| preserved an inbred and enfeebled vocabu-
| larry. English started with sturdy stock
| and mingled with the speech of the whole
world 1t has turned out stalwart, mon
grel dictionary. which asks no odds. hut
! goes out and captures any word that 1T may
| need to express the immediate Idea. French
| plays, which are only semi successes in
| their own environment. are adapted into
| English and please audiences enormously
| The adjustment of foreign play to the
| French stage is a most hazardous expert
| ment as Bernhardt'S own Hamlet" which
| she drops from her repertory this week,
will testify. Mounet-Sully's Hamlet was
! a jest.
To hint that an adapta ton can be better
| than the original may seem at first glance
| preposterOus, yet there are surely many
| Considerations to palliate the sacriiege.
| One of the most notable speeches in the
| play is the one in which the Duke of Reich
| stadt recites Il am not a prisoner-but-.'
! The word but is in English, an uncom-
promising quantity. 1t presents alter
native fairly and squarely, and has a good,
| chesty sound that makes your antagonist
| aware of the fact that he must face a
| dilemma. Your "mais sounds a nasal
note of apology, and suggests compromise.
| 1t is not a good, honest part of speech. 1t
| is shifty and discredted associate of en-
| feebed exp,etives. In order to give 1t
| rhetorical effect Bernhard made it ring out
| like a pistol shot. There must be conveyed
| in sound the impressiveness that it lacked
| In sense.
Bernhardt's portrayal of the Duke of
! Reichstadt dgnifies his personality beyond
| what it seems reasonable to expect In a
youth who died of consumption at the age
| of twenty-one or so. He must have been
| a sad weaking. But weddings aften have
| brilliant minds and noble aspirations. Bern
| hardt's duke is strapping youngster who,
| despite those bygone gibes about the divine
Sarah's thinness. affords his neither castings
a very respectable tenantry. He goes about
| with a strength of lung and fashion of
| humping his chest which suggests a manly
youngster who has held his own In college
athletics. His physical personality is far
more attractive than that reflected In the
| English stage version. 1t commands adj
| miration, interest, even respect and as a
| necessary consequence lacks pathos. HIS
| ambitions are, however, but feebly reflected.
| He is merely a moral coward.
| The idea of empire is but playt thing
| which alternates with his love affairs in an
existence of sunshine. He might better be
called lie Papillon" than IL Aiglon.' 1t
was Bernhardts own conception of the
part and as consistently portrayed by the
mistress of theatric art was fascinating.
She conveys the thrill Of emotion which
only true genius can stir in an audience.
She is too strong to cOndeScend to an APP
peal even in a character whose rational
spirit would seem to be that of pathos. She
has been empress in her domain long
that she cannot but command.
Coquelin's "Flambeau' was spirited and
at times fraught with impressive dignity.
| But il a comedians 'Flambeau,
whimsical, when it might have been genu-
iney affecting. NJ. Desjardin's representa-
ton of Metternich most sincere and
plausible bit of acting.
The patriotic illusions are SO numerous
and SO subtle that one might easily long to
be a Frenchman for an hour Cor four or
five hours, counting curtain waits) in order
to fully appreciate them. There can be no
gainsaying the superb art of Bernhardt and
the abilities of Coquelin, having once be-
come acquainted with the conceptions OF
their characters which they adopt. The
propriety of these conceptions Is another
question. And there Is no gainsaying the
fact that they ought to be regarded as au-
thoriteS as to the poets Intentions. But II
record a blunt admission that the English
Interpretation suffers by comparison with
the Partisan Is altogether too much to ask
To quote the French Of Stratford -atte.
Bowe. "Jammy, jammy!'
| The play was mounted with the brilliancy
| of a spectacular piece the scenery being al
most beautiful enough to compensate for
the great length of time between acts. The
| engagement is int q