dead dramatists, and if it is to be regarded as more
meritorious to try to make money by producing the non-copyright dramas
of the past than by presenting the works of living men who need a
royalty.

This is not a plea against revivals of the English classics, the
production of which under certain circumstances may be praiseworthy and
valuable, but against such propositions as "'tis better to see
Shakespeare in any form than not at all," which cause people to form
false judgments and push them to enterprises of little value.

Yvette Guilbert on Dramatists

Lately Yvette Guilbert has been making some strange remarks concerning
drama and dramatists. Her words demand attention since they come from
the lips of a woman of genius. In our time the domain between the
theatre and the concert-room has produced no artist of her rank. One
recollects her different styles. First, in the amazing delivery of
almost frankly indecent songs--a delivery so extraordinarily fine as to
convert them for the moment into works of art--the image of beautiful
iridescent scum on foul water suggests itself. Secondly, in the
presentation by short song and very sober gesture and facial expression
of grim tragedies, a presentation more vivid and poignant than the
ordinary theatre can give, despite its numerous aids to art. Then came
the charming utterance of quaint old songs--who can forget Beranger's
"La Grandmere" as it came from her?

Paris, insatiable in craving for novelty, is said to have grown tired of
her, but her place as the greatest of singers in the variety theatres
cannot be gainsaid. It is alleged that she intends to go upon the stage,
and imaginable that her search for suitable plays has caused her
outburst against playwrights. Whether she will be successful as actress
or not is a question of interest concerning which _a priori_ reasoning
is futile. Certainly she must be a difficult person for whom to write a
play.

Apparently she has gone to some fashionable dramatist and given him a
commission to write a drama as a vehicle for the exhibition of her
histrionic gifts, and is dissatisfied by the result. One is justified in
making the guess by her theories concerning the future of drama when the
"arenas" are again opened, and "histrionic" art is rejuvenated. "Let the
actors enter," she says, "with their ideas boiling over, their nerves
strung to the highest pitch, and let the public suggest to each the
action or character to be mi