mere children in the ways of the science.
Our rude clumsy efforts are without point
or concert, and lack that delicacy and fine
shading so conspicuous in the efforts of our
neighbours. The situation needs one of
commanding intellect, who shall arise and mould
all these floating elements into one grand
system. As it is, we can but stand by
despairingly, and envy the exquisite
organisation which has grown up into a complete
science, perfect in all its parts, and carried
out with admirable skill by a well-trained
corps of adepts. Let us now see how this is
found on the banks of the Seine.

Suppose a manager about to open his
theatre for the season — say one not a hundred
miles from the pleasant Boulevart des
Italiens. As soon as the news gets abroad, he
is inundated with a flood of applications
from artistes of every calibre and degree. He
has to hearken to the claims of singing men
and women; of scene-painters, mechanists,
orchestrals, supers, doorkeeps, until he is
well nigh driven distracted. To such ills has
managerial estate been liable from time
immemorial—to be accepted, therefore, without
repining. But there also waits upon him a
far more important personage—a being of
quiet exterior and insinuating manners; no
other, in short, than an ancient Roman. This
is the Entreprenneur des Succès Dramatiques
—in plain English, the chief of the
applause department — deprived of whose
useful aid, the theatre might as well close its
doors. The ancient Roman— so profanely
styled from a similar institution known in
the days of Nero — is at once admitted to an
audience, and treated with the most respectful
consideration.

"M. le Directeur," he says, shortly, for
with him time is precious, " I am tolerably
familiar with the weak points of your
undertaking. As yet nobody has been appointed
to the supervision of the applause department.
Entrust it to my care, and permit me
at the same time to offer you the sum of
twenty thousand francs ready money, together
with an annual rent of ten thousand francs."

M. le Directeur looks grave. " Say thirty
thousand down, and it is a bargain!"

"Such a bagatelle shall not part us,"
replies the Roman. " You shall have them
to-morrow."

"But permit me to observe," says M. le
Directeur, " that for that sum, I shall require
one hundred men for ordinary nights, and
not less than five hundred for débuts and
important occasions."

"It shall be so," the Roman enthusiastically
replies. " Monsieur shall have more if
he requires it."

Thus fortified with his credentials, the
new-made chief goes forth to recruit; and
from such loose miscellany as hairdressers'
youths, poor scholars, guides, cabmen
suspended from their functions, he gathers
together a strange and motley troop. A
lonely café is chosen for the rendezvous,
where, on solemn occasions, they meet their
chief, and receive their tickets for parterre or
gallery, as the case may be. For these,
however, the poor wretches are mulcted, some
thirty or forty sous, always excepting the
higher officers, who come in free. But on
great nights, when there is question of a new
piece, which must be carried through at all
risks, not only are free tickets distributed
lavishly, but extra hands are taken on, and
abundant largesse sent abroad, in the shape of
some two or three francs and one glass of
eau-de-vie per man.

But how is the chief of this department to
be reimbursed these heavy charges? In
the simplest manner that can be conceived.
One of the actors is desirous that his
exertions should specially waken the enthusiasm
of the audience. He opens relations with
the chief of the applause department, and
delicately insinuates his wish to be supported.
Nor does he at the same time forget to back
his request with the persuasive offering of,
say five hundred francs. Such arguments are
not to be resisted. Meanwhile the ingenious
chef allows it to get abroad that M. Xyzed
is to receive exceptional support (the
conventional name for this species of appreciation),
in the new piece. The brethren of M.
Xyzed become uneasy, and forthwith enter
into secret treaties with the chef, to have
their merits acknowledged exceptionally also.
So on, from the highest to the lowest: and
the ancient Roman reaps a golden harvest.
The new piece is carried through amidst a
storm of applause — each receives what he has
contracted for — and every one is satisfied.

Woe to the man who shall resist this
iniquitous levying of black mail! He had
as good cast from him his theatrical livery,
and bethink him of a new profession at once.
A few minutes before the rising of the
curtain, a low whisper is borne along the
serried ranks of the five hundred sitting in
the parterre. The fatal consigne goes forth,
"Not a hand for M. Derivis; " and all that
night does a stern and chilling silence wait
on M. Derivis wherever he goes, whatever he
does. In case some stray friends of the
proscribed essay a spasmodic effort in his
behalf, they are scornfully hushed down and
covered with confusion from five hundred
faces staring up at them from below. Some-
times, too, M. le Directeur finds this to be a
convenient mode of ridding himself of a
troublesome artiste. A word to the chief of
the department, and the claqueur army
receive their instructions. M. Derivis is to be
done to death without pity. For two nights
or more is the damping silence maintained,
and then M. le Directeur takes unhappy
Derivis aside. " He is desolated," he says;
"but he can avail himself of M. Derivis'
services no longer. M. Derivis must see
himself that his efforts are not
appreciated as they ought to be, by the