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main business it is to see that these laws are observed. And yet they are not happy!' It is touching to read-as I often do their speeches when they assemble and meet together. They describe the suspicion with which they are viewed, the uncalled-for abuse which they encounter, the manner in which they are harassed by all sorts and conditions of men, the misrepresentations which are poured upon them, and the generally unsympathetic manner in which their selfdenying and philanthropic efforts are met by an ungrateful public. One would think that they would be too happy to relinquish a business involving so much responsibility, entailing so much vexation of spirit, and producing so little personal satisfaction. But it is not so. Patriotism, love of liberty, hatred of fanaticism, and devotion to the cause of the 'poor man's beer,' urged them on, and they are banded together as one man to resist the movement of the permissive prohibitionists.

It is the old, old story-private interests against public rights, the individual against the nation, money against men, the gains of the few against the lives of the many. For, disguise it as we may, it is the enormous influence of the trade' which has hitherto succeeded in withholding from the people this simple extension of selfgovernment, and the political power of the trade must be broken ere the boon can be obtained.

Surely it is not well that a whole nation should grovel at the feet of a great ring of monopolists, even though that ring should be composed, as we have seen, of the best of men. Is the curse of drunkenness for ever to blight our country? Are the efforts of those who spend their time and labour in attempts to elevate the working classes to be permanently thwarted by a gigantic system of State temptation? Are we to honour with lip service the memories of such men as Lord Shaftesbury and Mr. Samuel Morley, and by our actions to show that we care nothing for the reforms to which their lives were devoted? Is England, with her enormous educational, industrial, and religious advantages, to remain permanently a drunken nation? Are our statesmen, unchecked, to fill the nation's exchequer by promoting the degradation and the misery of their poorer fellow-countrymen ?

You answer 'No.' But how do you propose to effect the change? Are there to be more effective advocates of temperance? Are our clergy to be more eloquent or earnest? Are any new facts to be brought before the public? Is human nature to be changed? Is the nature of strong drink to be altered? I hardly think that any of these things are likely to happen.

Given, then, the same kind of human beings, the same kind of drink, and the same amount of temptation, I can see nothing for it but that the same results will follow.

Suppose we try the New Testament plan, and as we pray that we

may not ourselves be led into temptation, let us cease to lead others into temptation.

If anybody has a scheme to suggest which has not been tried and failed in regard to licensing the sale of strong drink, now is the time to produce it.

If such a scheme cannot be produced, then let the people in their own localities be permitted to try a plan which, when fairly tried, has never failed, and by entrusting them with the power of the direct veto over licenses, let us make at least one more effort towards the 'soberising' of England.

WILFRID LAWSON.

IN treating of the recent production of Hamlet at the Théâtre Français, which may be considered as a new epoch in the dramatic history of France, it is not intended to institute comparisons between England and France, or between English and French actors, but merely to comment on the source of the enthusiasm excited at the present moment by this essentially English tragedy in an audience habitually indisposed towards anything un-French and chary of applause under all circumstances.

The first step towards the triumph of to-day was made in September 1796, when the tragedy of Hamlet, translated by Ducis, was acted as a startling novelty, with Molé and Dumesnil in the leading characters, and was listened to with respect if not with any great sympathy. M. Molé was Hamlet, Madame Dumesnil was Gertrude, the most remarkable tragic actor and actress of their time, for French critics have always held the part of the Queen to be second only to that of Hamlet, and when the tragedy was reproduced at a later date, in 1805, under the direction of the great tragedian Talma, he passed sleepless nights and agitated days in the pursuit of an actress sufficiently gifted to undertake the character of Gertrude. Ophelia was looked upon as a personage of comparatively little importance; she was a passing vapour, a slight incident in Hamlet's life, and her part, never a long one, was subjected to much cutting.

Of all the tragedians who have hitherto played Hamlet in Paris Talma was the only one who made a great permanent success, and this he did in spite of the translator's monotonous conventional verse and monstrous alterations of the text, in which no Ghost ventured to appear; Hamlet merely dreamt of him and told his dreams to an admiring chorus; and Hamlet, not Claudius, was King of Denmark; Claudius was a prince of the blood. It was then a wholly different play, yet Ducis firmly believed that he adored Shakespeare and that he had translated Hamlet as faithfully as possible for a French public, while, as Talma's genius carried success with it, French audiences were convinced that they were understanding and applauding the great English Poet.

Thus the first stone was laid, and the movement towards the romantic drama which was begun by Dumas (père), but which the

genius of Victor Hugo carried on to its great consummation, may fairly be traced back to the inauguration of the Ducis Hamlet by Talma. This great tragedian was an English scholar, and if he felt that the passionate creations of Shakespeare's genius could not be presented faithfully to French society, so long fettered by frivolous pedantries, he also knew how to transfuse the deep passion of his heart into the lifeless verse of Ducis with something of a Shakespearian force it is the highest vocation, it is, indeed, the great first cause of the tragedian, that he can interpret the poet's mind to a dense public.

Since the days of Talma Hamlet has been played before Parisian audiences by Salvini and Rossi, by Rouvière, by Madame Judith, and by M. Garnier. As to Fechter, he was known in Paris only as an accomplished actor of melodrama and light comedy when he produced the tragedy in London and acted the leading character in English to an English audience.

Among the French Hamlets just cited Rouvière, at the Théâtre Historique, made the greatest mark. He was eccentric and fiery, often carrying his audience with him by the flash of his passion, but rarely satisfying their judgment; he played the version which Mounet Sully is playing now. Neither Salvini nor Rossi made much impression in this difficult character, which was indeed more successfully represented in the opera of Hamlet by M. Faure. This admirable vocalist is also an impressive actor, and there was much of the charm of the Prince of Denmark in his performance. Fechter never acted the character in Paris, but in London his success was extraordinary. He was graceful, he was subtle, he was a complete master of stage business; he was handsome and singularly dexterous: in short, he had all the necessary qualities for an ambitious actor, except the greatest. He had not a wide range of passion and he had not a single grain of poetical imagination; but for that very reason he was all the more welcome to the great bulk of spectators, who prefer the player to the poet, who seek nothing beyond brilliancy in stage representation and would rather not have the depths of passion sounded. Hamlet's complicated character offers many phases of interest, so many that most of his representatives have been listened to with attention, whatever their shortcomings; but to combine all or a chief part of his qualities is to be great among the greatest; it is to possess strong intellectual perceptions, intense passion, a habit of meditation, and a power of withering irony. It is also to have those exterior graces which we are in the habit of calling princely-to move gracefully, to have a commanding presence, a noble countenance, and a voice capable of expressing infinite varieties of emotion.

With how much trepidation, then, must any thinking actor who enters into the character approach it for the first time; how reluctant he must feel after his long solitary broodings to unveil his ideal.

M. Mounet Sully, the distinguished tragedian, who has now taken

unwilling Paris captive by his performance of Hamlet, meditated upon it for fourteen years before he determined to bring it forward. Three years before the death of M. Perrin he persuaded that clever but not poetical manager to allow him to try it, and obtained a distinct promise that he should play it as soon as possible at the Théâtre Français. Once the promise given, M. Perrin began to interest himself in the production of the piece. The planning of the costumes, which he confided to the care of Bianchini, costumier of the Opera House, remarkable for his knowledge and research, greatly interested the manager, but his death came as a grave interruption, and for a time Hamlet was laid aside. The theatre was not prospering; some great artists had left it, and Mounet Sully himself was ill, but presently he began again to ask for his Hamlet. M. Claretie, M. Perrin's successor, was little disposed towards such an attempt; the company generally protested that it would certainly not be a success, that it had been rejected for good reasons by the Comédie Française in 1846, that they could ill afford to risk a failure now, and that they would not hear of it. To this M. Mounet Sully replied that he believed in Hamlet and that he thought M. Perrin's promise ought to be observed. This argument finally prevailed and the tragedy was put in rehearsal. The rehearsals were trying and arduous. The version of Hamlet chosen for representation was the same translation by M. Paul Meurice and Alexandre Dumas which had been rejected by the Comédie Française in 1846. It is well that M. Meurice has lived to see his work brought out under the best auspices after so many doubts, perplexities, and trepidations as he went through before it ever saw the light. It is to Dumas that its actual completion is due. A long time ago-somewhere about the year '42-he was lamenting that there was no better French translation of Hamlet to be had than that of poor Ducis, when Paul Meurice confessed that he had attempted one himself, which he had kept as true as possible to the original text. Dumas insisted upon seeing the manuscript, was delighted when he saw it, made a few alterations, touched it in a few scenes, and was furious when the Comédie Française rejected it. But the French mind, not yet ready, went on gradually outgrowing its shackles, drinking in fresh nourishment from many newly opened sources; penny editions of great authors, foreign as well as French, began to circulate, translated works which made the writers popular and proved that in spite of pretentious critics there was something more in the spirit than in the letter. Amongst these cheap publications was a translation of Shakespeare's most popular plays by a writer of no special fame which was rather flat in expression but correct in meaning. M. François Hugo's vigorous and faithful prose translation is at present better known to students than to the public, but it is a work of great power and valuable to all foreigners who want to grasp the thought of the poet. There is nothing omitted