_Macmillan’s Magazine._ FOOTNOTES: [1] But the loveliest lyrics of Tennyson do not suggest labor. I do not say that, like Beethoven’s music, or Heine’s songs, they may not be the result of it. But they, like all supreme artistic work, “conceal,” not obtrude Art; if they are not spontaneous, they produce the effect of spontaneity, not artifice. They impress the reader also with the power, for which no technical skill can be a substitute, of sincere feeling, and profound realization of their subject-matter. [2] Mr. Alfred Austin, himself a true poet and critic, has long ago repented of _his_ juvenile escapade in criticism, and made ample amends to the Poet-Laureate in a very able article published not long since in _Macmillan’s Magazine_. [3] I have just read the Laureate’s new plays. They are, like all his best things, brief: “dramatic fragments,” one may even call them. “The Cup” was admirably interpreted, and scenically rendered under the auspices of Mr. Irving and Miss Ellen Terry; but it is itself a precious addition to the stores of English tragedy—all movement and action, intense, heroic, steadily rising to a most impressive climax, that makes a memorable picture on the stage. Camma, though painted only with a few telling strokes, is a splendid heroine of antique virtue, fortitude, and self-devotion. “The Falcon” is a truly graceful and charming acquisition to the repertory of lighter English drama. THE AMERICAN AUDIENCE. BY HENRY IRVING. What is the difference between an English and an American audience? That is a question which has frequently been put to me, and which I have always found it difficult to answer. The points of dissimilarity are simply those arising from people of a common origin living under conditions often widely different. It is, therefore, only possible for me to indicate such traits in the bearing of the American playgoer as have come under my own personal notice, and impressed me with a sense of unfamiliarity.