"
* * * * *
AT THE PLAY.
"CYRANO" MOVES TO DRURY LANE.
SIR THOMAS BEECHAM, having been translated to another place, has made
way for _Cyrano_ and his nose, which now finds more room to turn round
in. I had not seen Mr. LORAINE on the more congested stage of the
Garrick. Indeed the last time that I assisted at M. ROSTAND'S play was
some twenty years ago in the South of France. It happened that there
had recently been a vogue of Musketeer plays in England. Behind my
seat was a British Baronet (a recent creation) for whom the French
language had little or no meaning. The first and only sign of
intelligence that he showed was well on in the performance, at the
words, "_Qui est ce monsieur?" "C'est D'Artagnan." (D'Artagnan_ then
disappears altogether).
"Another of these damned Musketeer plays," said the Bart.; "I'm off!"
And he went.
I am not sure that, even in English, it would have been just the play
for his taste; but that London has plenty of people who can appreciate
it may be seen by the way in which Mr. LORAINE can hold the great
auditorium under the spell of its romance.
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