. Go to the Moulin-Rouge and you will see a still clearer
object-lesson. The goods in the music-halls are displayed so to speak,
behind glass, in a shop window; at the Moulin-Rouge they are on the open
booths of a street market.

M. CAPUS IN ENGLAND

An excellent Parisian company from the Varietes has been playing "La
Veine" of M. Alfred Capus, and this week it is playing "Les Deux Ecoles"
of the same entertaining writer. The company is led by Mme. Jeanne
Granier, an actress who could not be better in her own way unless she
acquired a touch of genius, and she has no genius. She was thoroughly
and consistently good, she was lifelike, amusing, never out of key;
only, while she reminded one at times of Rejane, she had none of
Rejane's magnetism, none of Rejane's exciting naturalness.

The whole company is one of excellent quality, which goes together like
the different parts of a piece of machinery. There is Mme. Marie
Magnier, so admirable as an old lady of that good, easy-going,
intelligent, French type. There is Mlle. Lavalliere, with her brilliant
eyes and her little canaille voice, vulgarly exquisite. There is M.
Numes, M. Guy, M. Guitry. M. Guitry is the French equivalent of Mr. Fred
Kerr, with all the difference that that change of nationality means. His
slow manner, his delaying pantomine, his hard, persistent eyes, his
uninflected voice, made up a type which I have never seen more
faithfully presented on the stage. And there is M. Brasseur. He is a
kind of French Arthur Roberts, but without any of that extravagant
energy which carries the English comedian triumphantly through all his
absurdities. M. Brasseur is preposterously natural, full of aplomb and
impertinence. He never flags, never hesitates; it is impossible to take
him seriously, as we say of delightful, mischievous people in real life.
I have been amused to see a discussion in the papers as to whether "La
Veine" is a fit play to be presented to the English public. "Max" has
defended it in his own way in the _Saturday Review_, and I hasten to say
that I quite agree with his defence. Above all, I agree with him when
he says: "Let our dramatic critics reserve their indignation for those
other plays in which the characters are self-conscious, winkers and
gigglers over their own misconduct, taking us into their confidence, and
inviting us to wink and giggle with them." There, certainly, is the
offence; there is a kind of vulgarity which seems native