IN THE STATE OF DENMARK 1C3 



cloaks and hats were taken from us by several very 

 kind but very firm elderly gentlemen, who exacted 

 a penny for the attention, and we were admitted to a 

 perfectly empty theatre, with electric light and a 

 capacity to receive half Copenhagen. After a quarter 

 of an hour the entrance of a woman and child took 

 away the feeling that we were the last people left 

 alive in the world ; others straggled in, a good 

 orchestra struck up, and the curtain rose upon a 

 party of students supping, making speeches, and 

 singing choruses. Being in Danish, the play pro- 

 gressed for us in complete mystery, as far as the plot 

 was concerned, but down to the last super the acting 

 was admirable. All went with astonishing ease and 

 unanimity, each minor part being given its true 

 value, and no more than that. We had been in- 

 structed, on very high authority, that the brothers 

 Emil and Olaf Poulsen, of the Danish State Theatre, 

 were as fine comedians as any in Europe, and when 

 Herr Olaf strutted in with a military frock-coat 

 buttoned to bursting over that curve of the lower 

 waistcoat that is indispensable to robust comedy, 

 and struck his first attitude as a passe lieutenant 

 of the Sir Lucius O'Trigger type, it was easy, even 

 for bewildered foreigners, to recognise a finished 

 craftsman. It was an old-fashioned part ; it might 

 easily have been conventional, but Herr Poulsen 

 made love to the ladies, and browbeat the gentle- 

 men, and was himself browbeaten with sincere and 

 irresistible humour. 



After the first act we wandered forth in search of 

 coffee, but found only peppermint and cold water, 

 and returned shuddering, while the remainder of the 

 audience ate sandwiches that they had brought with 

 them. Danes can eat shces of cold meat when other 

 people can barely entertain the thought of an ice. 



