father's will; of her mental struggle between love and duty; and of her ultimate triumph over her amatory inclination. Her name was Hannah Jacobs. She was the daughter of the Rev. Samuel Jacobs, called Reb Shemuel. Her lover's name was David Brandon, and she was as devotedly fond of him as he was of her. Their course of true love was just beginning to run smooth, and it might have continued to run smooth, even to the nuptial altar, but for the interposition of a clumsy joke. At a festival called "Pidyun Haben" a frolicsome Jew, named Sam Levine, who had bought a wedding ring for his sweetheart, Leah, undertook to tease Leah by forcibly seizing the right hand of Hannah Jacobs and putting the ring on her forefinger, exclaiming as he did so, "Behold, thou art consecrated unto me by this ring, according to the Law of Moses and Israel." This horseplay, in the presence of witnesses, was found to have constituted a genuine marriage. Hannah Jacobs was obliged to obtain a divorce, which is called "Gett." "If you play with fire," said her reverend father, "you must expect to be scorched." That proved to be sadly true, for immediately that the question arose of a marriage between Hannah Jacobs and David Brandon it was announced, by Hannah's father, speaking as a rabbi, that David was "a Cohen,"-that is to say, a member of the Jewish aristocracy, or priesthood of the Temple,-and that marriage between "a Cohen" and a divorced woman is forbidden by the sacred Jewish

Law: "Neither shall they take a woman put away from her husband, for he is holy unto his God." After that the strife in the young woman's heart began. No situation could be more cruel; none could seem more ridiculous. Her resolution to elope with her willing and eager lover, who had no scruples whatever, was soon taken; her preparations were made; but, at the last moment, her filial affection and her sense of religious duty prevailed over her impulses of passion and of selfish purpose, and she renounced her lover and remained with her parents.

In Southern climes it oftens happens that a tree is so thickly draped with pendant moss that it cannot be distinctly seen. The dramatic skeleton or framework of Mr. Zangwill's play was found to be almost completely hidden by the mosses of Judaism. Those trappings might, or might not, be interesting, according to an observer's taste or mood. Divested of racial embroidery, the posture of circumstances displayed by the drama was not, in any particular, either dramatic or impressive. The only point of variance from trite conventionality was the girl's final decision to stay with her father. In actual life persons who wish to get married commonly take their own headstrong way, regardless of any afflicting consequences that they are likely to bring upon either themselves or others. Rational conduct on the part of an infatuated lover, whether male or female, may well strike the observer

into "amazement and admiration." Mr. Zangwill's heroine demonstrated that claim to respect, but it could not have been expected that such an example of selfabnegation would attract sympathy, seeing that the popular doctrine, established and overwhelming, is "All for love, or the world well lost." In Wills's beautiful drama "Olivia" (a play which, notwithstanding the weakness in its last act, once seen could never be forgotten!) there is a wonderfully fine scene showing first Olivia's pathetic farewell to her home, and then the cruel, agonizing climax of her flight from her father's protection. The highest invention in Mr. Zangwill's play was seen to be merely a variation of that theme, ending with a reversal of the consequent effect. There was abundant faithful portrayal of Jewish manners and customs: but Action, not Portraiture, is the soul of all Drama, and "tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes." Nothing more tedious could well be devised than the long-drawn ceremony of Jewish divorce. It was said of the rhymester Fitzgerald that when he celebrated the Phoenix he described every feather on its body. As a playwright (for he is in no sense a dramatist) Mr. Zangwill revealed himself as not far astern of that model. There was, however, enough of singularity in subject, cleverness in dialogue, pictorial excellence in scenery, and sincerity in portions of the acting, combined with the ever popular element of mobs, banners,

bass-drums, precocious children, and silly clowns, to make the play temporarily tolerable: but it could not be accepted as a symmetrical or charming work of art or as an authentic portrayal of sympathetic human nature. There was a delicate love scene in Act Second, and there was a sweet and tender moment of confidence between father and daughter in Act Third, and that was about the sum of essential merit of the composition. The loquacious bard, Pinchas, and Simon Wolf, with his vociferous gabble and his noisy mob, proved excrescent, and so did a multitude of green-grocers, free-thinkers, pipe-smokers, and idiotic carpenters. There was far too much of the ponderous ecclesiastic, Reb Shemuel.

Miss Blanche Bates, an actress of deep sensibility, a sweet and fine temperament, beautiful personal appearance, and uncommon capacity for dramatic expression, impersonated the heroine. It was not difficult for her to represent a young woman of noble mind, high spirit, ardent affections, and sound moral principles. Those phrases sufficiently denote the character of Hannah Jacobs, not a dramatic person, and not required to participate in any exigency of strong action essentially dramatic. For her, and for her lover and her father, the dramatist had framed and written one scene of passionate conflict,-the scene in which the Levitical ordinance against the marriage was declared, and in which the impetuous feelings of the betrothed lovers

were evoked in opposition to the pious will of the Rabbi. In that scene the acting of Miss Bates, representative of a fervent yet conscientious spirit torn by varying impulses, was dignified and vitalized with splendid excitement, and, alike in utterance and demeanor, was indicative of unusual command of the resources not alone of feeling but of that excellent art which, while it holds passion in perfect restraint, makes it seem absolutely spontaneous and gives to it the wings of the tempest and the reckless force of the gale. Frank Worthing, likewise, as David Brandon, rose to a fine height of diversified emotion, at this juncture, and he expressed with nature and with power the scorn and the bitterness of an honest mind and a good heart revolting against injustice and indignant against cold formalism and the flummery of antiquated laws.

AN AMERICAN ECCENTRICITY-W. H. CRANE IN

"DAVID HARUM."

"The Rough Diamond," in one form or another, has been shown a thousand times, and in almost every form it is tiresome. On the occasion of the presentment of it, by the able and accomplished eccentric comedian William H. Crane, who brought it forth in the autumn of 1900, at the Garrick Theatre, New York, under the name of David Harum, that "eternal jewel" took the form of an uncouth bucolic eccentricity, a bald-headed rural banker with a small wart on his