tice has been advantageous to M.
Edmond Rostand. M. Rostand has shrewdly written for the greatest comedian
of the recent generation; and Constant Coquelin was the making of him as a
dramatist. The poet's early pieces, like _Les Romanesques_, disclosed him
as a master of preciosity, exquisitely lyrical, but lacking in the sterner
stuff of drama. He seemed a new de Banville--dainty, dallying, and deft--a
writer of witty and pretty verses--nothing more. Then it fell to his lot to
devise an acting part for Coquelin, which in the compass of a single play
should allow that great performer to sweep through the whole wide range of
his varied and versatile accomplishment. With the figure of Coquelin before
him, M. Rostand set earnestly to work. The result of his endeavor was the
character of Cyrano de Bergerac, which is considered by many critics the
richest acting part, save Hamlet, in the history of the theatre.

_L'Aiglon_ was also devised under the immediate influence of the same
actor. The genesis of this latter play is, I think, of peculiar interest to
students of the drama; and I shall therefore relate it at some length. The
facts were told by M. Coquelin himself to his friend Professor Brander
Matthews, who has kindly permitted me to state them in this place. One
evening, after the extraordinary success of _Cyrano_, M. Rostand met
Coquelin at the Porte St. Martin and said, "You know, Coq, this is not the
last part I want to write for you. Can't you give me an idea to get me
started--an idea for another character?" The actor thought for a moment,
and then answered, "I've always wanted to play a _vieux grognard du premier
empire--un grenadier a grandes moustaches_."... A grumpy grenadier of
Napoleon's army--a grenadier with sweeping moustaches--with this cue the
dramatist set to work and gradually imagined the character of Flambeau. He
soon saw that if the great Napoleon were to appear in the play he would
dominate the action and steal the centre of the stage from the
soldier-hero. He therefore decided to set the story after the Emperor's
death, in the time of the weak and vacillating Duc de Reichstadt. Flambeau,
who had served the eagle, could now transfer his allegiance to the eaglet,
and stand dominant with the memory of battles that had been. But after the
dramatist had been at work upon the play for some time, he encountered the
old difficulty in a new guise. At last he came in despair to Coquelin and
said, "It isn't yo