ROSTAND'S " CHANTECLER " PREDICTED. [To THE EDITOR OP THIS
"SPECTATOR."]
Sin,—Re-reading Charles H. Pearson's thoughtful forecast, "National Life and Character," I was struck, where he speaks of the debasement of the drama to pageantry and sensational effects, by a clear prediction of Rostand's Chantecler,—" the bringing of a whole farmyard in feathers and fleece on the stage." If even acclaimed genius, in every new effort, must stoop to conquer degenerated public taste, how must it be for the dii minores among playwrights ? This consideration may be at the bottom of the poet's half-plaintive
" Je ne chants jamais que lorsque mes hnit griffes Ont trouve, sarclant l'herbo et chrisimnt les milieux, La place oil je parviens jusqu'au tuf noir et doux ! Alors, mis en contact avec is bonne terre,
Je chants et c'est dejh la moitie du mystZre, Faisane, in moitié du secret de mon chant
—I am, Sir, &c., J. F. SCEELTEMA.
12 Nelson Street, Edinburgh.
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