s, or that he did not wear a red,
white, and blue coat on the Fourteenth of July, or that he did not
stand for the French spirit as exemplified in the eating of snails on
Christmas. In other words, he will immediately place himself in a
position in which you may be excused for regarding him as a person
whose opinion is worth nothing, whereas his ratiocinatory powers on
subjects with which he is more in sympathy may be excellent. I know
why he does not like Mirbeau. Mirbeau is the reason. In his life he
was not accustomed to making compromises nor was he accustomed to
making friends (which comes after all to the same thing). He did what
he pleased, said what he pleased, wrote what he pleased. His armorial
bearings might have been a cat upsetting a cream jug with the motto,
"_Je m'en fous_." The author of "Le Jardin de Supplice" would not be
in high favour anywhere; nevertheless I would willingly relinquish any
claims I might have to future popularity for the privilege of having
been permitted to sign this book.

Feydeau is distinctly another story; his plays are more successful
than any others given in Paris. They are so amusing that even while he
is pointing the finger at your own particular method of living you are
laughing so hard that you haven't time to see the application.... So
the French critics have set him down as another popular figure, only a
nobody born to entertain the boulevards, just as the American critics
regard the performances of Irving Berlin with a steely supercilious
impervious eye. The Viennese scorned Mozart because he entertained
them. "A gay population," wrote the late John F. Runciman, "always a
heartless master, holds none in such contempt as the servants who
provide it with amusement."

The same condition has prevailed in England until recently. A few
seasons ago you might have found the critics pouring out their glad
songs about Arthur Wing Pinero and Henry Arthur Jones. Bernard Shaw
has, in a measure, restored the balance to the British theatre. He is
not only a brilliant playwright; he is a brilliant critic as well.
Foreseeing the fate of the under man in such a struggle he became his
own literary huckster and by outcriticizing the other critics he
easily established himself as the first English (or Irish) playwright.
When he thus rose to the top, by dint of his own exertions, he had
strength enough to carry along with him a number of other important
authors. As a consequence we may reg