The Washington herald., 1913-02-16

being self-made. We think" I asserted
didactically. Poverty. suffering and
struggle seem to be stimulants to anbi-
ton and to the Muses."
II think So" nodded the man of many
lives.
(which form of literary work do Tou
prefer? You seem to deal in SO many.
u think liRe best my plays" answered
the Immortal, after giving the question
some serious consideration. with much
strokins OF the beard and pulling of the
mustache. THE characters in these be-
come very real and very dear TO me
And of them all / prefer lie Chernineau.
Perhaps you know that play. You had 1t
In America: it was called The Har-
yester."
1 hastened to assure him that I did
know it and loved 1t. and he leaned back
in his chair with a contented smile
SPAsMs OF THE "WANDERLUST."
Il think the Harvester himself was a
little like you, wasn't he?" / suggested
tentatively. - wanderer. one in search
of freedom"
You are quite right" admitted NJ.
Richepin. beaminS upon me in his de-
lightful, friendly fashion, Il have al
ways been like that 1 must be free
when the wanderlust seizes me. I am
married-but it is the same thing"
Well. but how do you manage it now
with the responsibilities and cares Of a
home, a family"
"Oh. We ell wander together, we are
free, tcgether." chuckled the poet I'VE
simply pack up when We wish and start
off somewhere. l have been married
twice and had two families. but 1t has
always been the same"
Here was another side of hIm-the
family man. the good husband. the kind
father. Pride and paternity cleaned IN
his eyes.
Mime. Richepin really enjoys this wan
derlust invasion now and then. She
might have a word or two to say on the
subject
These are my two sons" continued NJ.
Richepin. and he pointed to the portraits
of the boys, land this is my wife. She
is a much younger girl than am" he
informed me in his quaint English
YOUNG AND. CHARMING SPOUSE.
glanced at the picture of the charm
ing. Eirlish figure in the garden. She
was daintily. delicately pretty. this Sec
ond wife.
Il have still another son by my first
wife," said the proud father. but he is
thirty-four years old and married him
self"
We had risen to study the pictures.
and now we resumed our respective
chairs. as asked:
DO you think. Monsieur Richepin. that
dramatic art is deteriorating in France
to-day?"
NO. no." he exclaimed Indignantly. Il
do not, could not think 50. We have at
the moment a young and virile school of
dramatists, whose work is earnest and
sincere"
"You have no successor to Sardou," I
interposed.
work has changed style. He has per-
haps no successor. but in his actual line
he has equals in dramatic writingi
PSYCHOLOGY AND THE STAGE.
You say that dramatic work has
changed here, as it seems to have done
everywhere. With us 1t appears to be
the day Of the psychological drama. Is
that true in France?
1t was very hard to explain this, and
when he finally understood he was en-
phatic in his denial of any psychological
tendency in the drama Of Paris
What Is happening" he asserted IN
his crisp. determined way. lis that we
are returning to the classic IN both
drama and literature. First. romanti-
cism; then symbolism; now the classic"
And do you feel that French literature
is as alive as it was in the days of
Hugo. Verlaine. Balzac and Guy de Maui
passant?"
"Certainementr with great emphasis.
"Oh. mademoiselle." and he shook an ad- |
finger at me. You ask these |
questions because you have been listening |
to Frenchmen who prefer to think there Is
no good in France at the moment OF.
rxfhar. thGy o1ect 10 fhink "a and yuur