"ALIEN'S" LETTER FROM ENGLAND.

Otago Witness, Issue 2924, 30 March 1910, Page 76

"ALIEN'S" LETTER FROM ENGLAND.

February 11. Paris and the Parisians have been before the English notice very prominently of late, first by reason of the flood, and* this ■ ■week by the jn'oduction of "Chantecler," M. Edmond Rostand's wonderful bird i jplay in verse, about which all the dramatic world is talking, and has been talking . more or less during the last seven years, for over and over again it was to' have been produced, and a series of delays reached their climax when the inundation ! of Paris again postponed the dress rehearsal, to which all the distinguished and notable of Paris had been asked, and jbegan to despair of ever seeing. But on Sunday the long waiting ended, and a brilliant company crowded the Porte St. ■Martin Theatre'in tfie evening, and on Monday night the first public performance was given to an audience as distinguished and brilliant as at the invitation night, among whom were some of the leading dramatic critics of the world, also several American financiers oi repute, •who had allowed boat after boat to return to America without them. Speculations and_ trusts waited for "Chantecler," and affairs of State also, while Ministers and ambassadors were refreshed by the poet's phantasy of the farmyard. "Chantecler," or the Cock, as all the world iraw! knows, is a scene of the farm- ; yard, where men and women dressed as birds and animals play the parts as men and women understand and interpret the creatures, "Chantecler," the Cock, vainglorious, is under the impression that his crowing calls the sunrise on the'earth, and all the animals of the farmyard have this belief,' too, and "Chantecler" is the lord of them all. He represents ambition and supreme self-glorification, and the Hen Pheasant, with" whom he falls in love, represents woman, not so sure that it is the man who calls up day for all the earth. She suspects that this is only, his own idea of his importance,in the scheme of the universe, and eets to work to test whether he is the grea't being he represents himself to be, and whether darkness would indeed fall upon all but for him. She guesses that his love for her is not so great as his love of power and •/eadership. To be worshipped as supreme is more than to be loved, and she requests that their honeymoon may be spent in the forest, and that there shall be no day, no rising of the sun, till they emerge from their retreat and return to the active life of the farmyard. The evening forest scene is wonderfully beautiful ; and so is the morning scene, where the sun, heedless of the puny creature who had arrogated his power, rises as usual and spreads the Pageant of Day hefore the cock's abashed presence, and convinces the hen that the light of the world does not come at his command. And so, too, has discovered the Farmyard, whei'e a fear had fallen that with Chantecler's absence night would reign, and when the cock, flying from the humiliation of the reproaches - of the hen, "who has proved the sun can vise without him, returns to the barnyard, it is no more as its lawgiver and king. Once rid of his tantaling assumption of superiority, the hen, womanlike, wishes to save him from humiliation —the humiliation of the. world, for the' farmyard represents the world. Now that she has shown him that he is no more God-like than she, she is willing to shave exile with him, and'loves him in his albassrhent more than in his self-glorification, and wants to shield him from the mocking of his world, which she knows will never forgive him for having imposed upon it. But he hates her, for she has humbled him, and hastens to the scene of his past triumph to explain away the reason of the sun having risen in bis absence, and to gather together again the scattered sources of his power. But too late. Day dawned without him ; he is no more a- god, but one of themselves ; his dominion has gone, and, chastened, he takes up his lowly part. The hickless Heir Pheasant is a imartyr to her cause, for. caught in a poacher's trap, she is deserted and alone, mourning the love of .her lord and master, though she. knows him to be only an ordinary bird. The curtain rises on a very charming picture of a farmyard, on which fowls and animals and birds move about in realistic ■> fashion. The kennel for the dog, and birdcage, hen-coops, etc., are all there, but anuch larger, to suit the size of tha humans who play the part of the anfmals and •birds, thus keeping the proportion of the scenes. .The bird costumes are wonderful, that of Mme. Simone, the Hen Pheasant, costing £ISOO alone; and there are 48' different breeds of cocks and hens, all perfect pigeons, geese, swans, rabbits, two docs, a moose, a wonderful peacock that spreads its tail, a magpie ; "and to these human-sized costumes years of labour and tons of feathers have gone.. I cull some notes of a Paris critique : The curtain rose on the most extraordinary scene that has ever been witnessed on any „ stage. It "was just a corner of a. poultry "vard, but of Gargantuan proportions, in scale with the - huge cocks and hens and ducks and chickens that pottered placidly •around There was a giganti6 hencoop next •to a colossal dog kennel, a monster wooden shoe lay near'the footlights, and the modest ■little parapet surrounding the yard was eight feet high. High above colossal plants hung an enormous sst of harness. The actors wore feather costumes with the head mask as .a kind of helmet showing their faces. On their legs they had scaly gaiters ending in claws. The human voices and faces did not seem out of accord with the perfectly finished dresses, and the scene was so absolutely convincing that the entire audience broke into uproarious applause. Presently along the wall past the butterflies hovering among the flowers M. Guitry, Chantecler, wearing a superb dark green and •brown feather dress —"the green of April and the ochre of October," the poet calls it—appeared. He -vore »■ high h— dpiece,

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with a great red comb and monstrous beau, showing his entire face beneath. He declaimed a superb ode to the sun, revelling in the Cock's mission to summon the day. i E'nfinc'est moi, le Coq," he cried; qui fait-lever le soleil"; or again, "Je suis le i portail par lequel le soleil echappe vers le del." He believes the whole world compassed by his poultry yard because, as he confesses, he would not think there are other cooks who can also bring light upon the earth. In a conversation with Patou, the dog ! philosopher, a marvellous achievement of M. Jean' Coquelin, in the most wonderful dog mask it has even been my luck to see, Chantecler discusses the situation in the farmyard. Patou bitterly complains of the impertinences of the Blackbird (M. Galipaux), who keeps hopping in and out. of his huge wicker cage with birdlike agility. The Blackbird, the quizzer and chatterbox, usesParisian slang to the venerable Patou, and he resents it. $> Suddenly a shot is beard, and' a pheasant flies in. It was Mme. Simone in a strikingly beautiful costume. She wore a kind of golden toque w,ith black crest (destined to be the latest mMo in hats this spring), and a bright red feather tunic with grey scaly leggings. She was the most charming picture imaginable as she nestled under the Cock's wing for protection. Patou hides her in his kennel as a big retriever appears at the gate—-"II a l'air d'ui vieil Anglais tres comnie il faut," Chantecler remarks. The second act opens on a wonderful night scene with the Owls in conclave with the Cat and the übiquitous Blackbird, conspiring against the Cock, whose cry at day banishes them into darkness. They decide lo engage a- fig Ming cock to lay ' Chantecler low at the "At-home day" of the Guineafowl. Then Chantecler appears, followed by the Hen Pheasant. She extorts from him the secret of his power, his belief that the sun cannot rise till he has sung his song',, and there, before her, in a glorious peroration, he sends his note through the darkness, and dawn begins to break across the' dark horizon. He says in love for her he will make a perfect daybreak, and will tip the hills with gold, and as he cries "Cocorico," a shaft of light strikes the two, and he has won the beautiful pheasant for his own. The kitchen garden is the third act. A scene of irresistible humour shows the Guinea-fowl's reception, with an endless procession of prize cocks of every imaginable species duly announced with full title by the Magpie. When Chantecler appears he says haughtily, "You may announce me as ' The Cock.'" The tales of the woodland told him by the pheasant have made him restless, and he will accompany her to the forest, but first, in a eulogy of the French Cock, he denounces the fancy cocks; the.blase and affected Peacock, whom all the coquette young hens consult on their appearance, and the Magpie. Attacked by the fighting cock, at first he lets himself "be beaten, but seeing the fear of bis farmyard subjects, he gathers them around him," "iakir.g courage from the consciousness of being their protector," he says, and defeats the bully with his spurs. Then he goes off to the woods with the Hen Pheasant, and as the -party breaks up the Tortoise arrives. Artistically considered, the fourth and last act is the most beautiful of the play. It represents the forest at night, with the rabbits peeping out of their holes, the solemn woodpecker" in his tree, and a troop of huge toads; with glittering eyes. Chantecler and the Hen Pheasant are on their honeymoon, and she makes him promise he will only summon the day but ottoe, so that all may be night foi them. The pheasant surprises Chantecler telephoning through a flower to the farm-, where he learns his presence is missed. Then frem the Woodpecker's tree the Nightingale sound? her plaintive song, a chant of ceaseless mourning. A shot rings out and Rossignol falls dead, but- her song is taken up by another songstress, who- sings suis la chanson eternelle," for Nightingale's song can never die,) and, Chantecler, enthralled, forgets the passing of the night. > Ilea Pheasant, jealous of Chantecler's longing for the farm, pointing to the broad bean-, of the sun, tells hjHl his dreavn is shattered, but he refuses to admit it. "That i-s the day I summoned yesterday," he cies, and leaves Hen Pheasant to go back to his farm, whence a chorus of cock-crows waijf him 'he is supplanted. The pheasant fa'te into a poacher's trap as a shot rings cut. "Chantecler! Oh, save him!" she cries, loving him now that he is gone, but a rePcundjllg "Cocorico" announces that the Cock has escaped. And as the pheasant falls babk helpless behind " the net Patou appears. He says, "Baissez le Tideau! Viola des homnies!" and the lay ends. Already there is talk of a London production, .and already'the first four '•Chantecler" hats have s reached a West End milliner. Alas for those who have the cause of the protection of bisds at heart! — for thks means that feathers will be more worn this Reason than ever, for fashions in the French capital are now set entirely by M. Rostand's wonderful farmyard play, and the first consignment, of bird-hats in London has roused considerable interest. And people are more or less in love with birds, just now the mcod of the hoar having been created by the beautiful "Blue j Bird" at the Haymarket, which is still run- ! ning, and drawling crowded houses twice j daily. It is quite the thing to purchase i the'blue birds sold there- for mascots. j- The bird-hats which are on view from i Paris are without doubt picturesque. One i is_ called the "•Simone toque," and is of ! natural golden pheasant plumage ; another, ' the "white hen" toque, which describes itself, and is, in fact, like a white hen .sitting close down on the head. The third is black straw trimmed with hen plumage, : and the fourth, or "the Guitry toque," is. i of black cock's feathers and red cock's 1 comb. All things French are to the fore for the moment —a passing moment, for this great heart of the world has a cosmopoliton pulse, and cannot beat long on the same theme. But just now the study of French character and characteristics is as pleasant as any other, and when all was said of the Paris flood from both a scientific and dramatic point of view could • be said, -French human nature came tinder

discussion. It cannot be denied, says one writer, that credit is seldom given abroad to Frenchwomen. One is inclined to con- ; fiider chiefly her social qualities, her taste, elegance, and brilliance, and overlook her heroism, among other I things. And - - within the last weeks she has proved herself of great i courage and resource, self-sacrificing and patient with her own troubles, bat all j active sympathy for others... The Parisians made light of the difficulties and dangers of the flood, but not of the need of the sufferers, great ladies turning themselves into nurses and cooks in the service of the refugees in the public shelters. Comparing French women with English women, one writer says the French woman is seen to the best advantage in her own j country, and especially in her own home, j where between husband and wife there is j genuine affection and intellectual as well i as .sentimental harmony, for although it is said the French woman does not love tragically, and her guardians have often more to do witli bringing about her marriage : than she herself, the French wife seems--] to have mastered the art of comradeship, ; and in\her home-life is a. uower, soon teaching her husband to tell her everything, his little troubles and big worries, and to ask her advice on even-thins;, even on his clothes. He soon realises that she has a. i personalitv and taste of her own, and j he gradually glows to look forward to dis- j cussing his affairs with her. As a mother, she is devoted and constant in her devotion, perhaps too much' so, for she has her own ideas of education and upbringing - , for a French*mother seldom dares to launch her sons in life with the- daring and confidence of an English woman. The Mansion House Fund in aid of the sufferers by the Paris flood reached £26.000 last week, and when it was assured the Lady Mayoress drew puublic attention again to her fund for "God's poor," and to which many needy Londoners are indebted for timely aid in the way of clothes as well as food. Many of the dans who have been benefited belong to that known- a*s "genteel." An unemployed clerk, perhaps, has worn out boots and clothes while in search for employment, and an amplication to Lady Knill at-'the Mansion House obtains him another suit, in which he has a better chance of obta' , " T >p r work. Huee parcels of clothing are daily arriving in aid of this-fund, but despite, all the charity the need is still great.

Society is •chiefly engaged this week in marryincr and in givimr ill ma-mass, and there will b« auite a number of youri? and beautiful brides presented -at the coming Courts this year. Exeent-for the weddings, there are vscv few say doings to be recorded till their Courts and the openino- of Parliament.