“There are not enough theatres to accommodate them all,” he said. “The papers inform us that X—— has just finished a new _chef-d’œuvre_, but often four, six, even ten months will elapse ere the masterpiece can be produced. Why? Because there is no room for X——. He must wait his turn; and in his leisure—O admirable fertility—he writes yet another play.”
“Nevertheless you have three important _répétitions générales_ this week,” I remarked. “Capus to-morrow, Donnay at the Français on Wednesday, and de Flers and Caillavet, the Inexhaustible, on Friday.”
“Charming Capus, delightful Donnay, amazing de Flers and Caillavet,” exclaimed my companion. “Listen; we are free for an hour. Let us run over the names of our leading playwrights—a formidable list. Garçon, another glass”—and away went the waiter in quest of more syrup and champagne.
Of course, no mere “running over” of the great name of Rostand. Both of us soon found ourselves reciting passages from _Cyrano_, _Chantecler_, _La Princesse Lointaine_—my friend eloquently and emotionally, myself alas! with the natural embarrassment and self-consciousness of the foreigner. “Au trot, au galop,” said my companion, glancing at the clock. And rapidly we proceeded to review the “formidable list” of France’s leading dramatists:—Paul Hervieu, the cultured, polished author of _Le Dédale_ and _La Course au Flambeau_. Violent, destructive Henri Bernstein—_La Griffe_, _La Rafale_, _Samson_. Henri Lavedan, brilliantly audacious in _Le Nouveau Jeu_, delightfully ironical in the _Marquis de Priola_, but serious, profound (a veritable _tour de force_) in _Le Duel_. Then Capus, the tolerant, the sympathetic: _Nôtre Jeunesse_, _Les Passagères_, _Monsieur Piégois_. Émile Fabre, wonderful manipulator of stage “crowds,” _Les Ventres Dorés_. Lively, brilliant de Flers and Caillavet, _Le Roi_, _L’Ane de Buridan_, _L’Amour Veille_. Worldly, cynical Abel Hermant, _Les Transatlantiques_, _Monsieur de Courpière_. Jules Lemaître, tender in _La Massière_, tragical in _Bertrad_. Brieux: the amusing _Hannetons_, sombre, harrowing _Maternité_. Georges Porto-Riche, _L’Amoureuse_, perhaps the finest modern comedy in the repertoire of the French National Theatre. Sound admirable Donnay, _Amants_, _Le Retour de Jérusalem_. Anatole France, the incomparable _Crainquebille_. MM. Arquillière and Bernède, with their masterly pictures of military life, _La Grande Famille_, _Sous l’Epaulette_. Romantic, vigorous Jean Richepin, _Le Chemineau_. Sardonic, anarchical Octave Mirbeau, _Les Affaires sont les Affaires_, _Le Foyer_. Humane, chivalrous Pierre Wolff, _L’Age d’Aimer_ and _Le Ruisseau_. Georges Ancey, earnest investigator into the hidden crafty practices of the Catholic Church, _Ces Messieurs_. Gentle, elegant Romain Coolus, _L’Enfant chérie_ and _Une Femme Passa_. Grim, lurid André de Lorde of the Grand Guignol. Ardent, passionate Henri Bataille, _Un Scandale_, _La Vierge Folle_, _La Femme Nue_.