The most accomplished of French comedians is Coquelin _ainé_, an extraordinary performer, from the versatility and even classical character of his talents. This gifted man, who never appears without imparting intellectual enjoyment of the highest kind, seems to have always been attracted to the English actor, though exhibiting his feelings in an oddly mixed fashion, compounded of admiration and hostility. Analysis of the workings of character is the most entertaining of pastimes, and is, of course, the foundation of theatrical enjoyment; and the public has much relished the controversies between two such eminent personages. In 1886 Coquelin, during a supper at Mrs. Mackay’s, was invited in a very flattering way by the Prince of Wales to play in London under Mr. Mayer. At this time, in obedience to the very natural “force and pressure” of gain which was beginning to dissolve the great company of the French Comedy, he had begun to “star it,” as it is called, in the various capitals of Europe, and having found himself appreciated in London at private houses, as well as on the stage, he seems to have nourished a feeling that he was contending for the suffrages of the public with the English actor! Not that he was conscious of any actual “jealousy,” but something of this impression was left on those who were watching the incident. In matters of art, however, such contentions are healthy, and pardonable enough. An early token of this curious feeling was offered in an article published in _Harper’s Magazine_ in May, 1887, where the French actor discussed with some acuteness the different systems of acting in England and in France, particularly in the matter of what is called “natural” or materialistic acting. He dwelt on the question how far the gifts of the comedian will enable him to exhibit tragic characters, contending that the practice of minute observation would materially aid him.