92 AU THEATRE DU GRAND GUIGNOL
judicious pleasure. You ask therefore in vain for detail.
“La Mineure” (No. 3) was, on the other hand, even more
life-like than No. 1.
A witness retained by justice to identify a criminal
discovers him by chance in the person of the President of
the Court himself. She is hauled to the deepest
dungeons of Saint Lazare, and everything thus ends
happily. For one moment the nerves of the spectator
are braced up to meet the sword of Damocles—and
then, with a single blow, the Juge d’Instruction subtly
and delicately strikes in, and we can breathe again.
The Docteur Goudron was now to appear, and it was a
spectacle saddening to the serious philosopher to observe
everybody pretending, often most elaborately, that they
had read Poe’s story on which the play is based. Alas!
that we should have been among them! Yet so it was.
Many years have elapsed since our feet trod civilized
MacAdam ; many years since we spent hour after happy
hour poring over our Poes. Surprising? Ay, but true.
Yet some dimmest recollection of Dr Tarr and Professor
Feather does hurtle heavenward to us across the mist-.
kissed abyss of memory: so much, no more.
The actor who represented Doctor Goudron—his name
is worthy to be graven on tablets of brass: it is con-
sequently not to be printed here. His self-restraint, his
command of expression, his elocution were alike
wonderful.
Booth, Irving, could not have done it better: it could
have barely been equalled even by Wilson Barrett in his
prime.