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keeping in abeyance the army, the garde mobile, and the red republicans. He is assailed on all sides by monsters with jaws insatiable, to whom it may be advisable to offer up some other country in preference to their own in propitiatory sacrifice. The eyes of Algerine, red republican, and gamin France, will turn to the richest offering. Luckily, it is not in their A sleeve (La Manche) intervenes between the will and the enjoyment. Others again, considering that too much interference was the cause of Louis Philippe's misfortunes, think that the very incapacity of Louis Napoleon may give permanence to a pacific rule-this it is evident is a mere category, while war or civil discord are the natural and inevitable results of the kind of progress which France has so fearfully ventured upon. May the lesson she affords be an example to others.

THE HABITUE'S NOTE-BOOK.

BY CHARLES HERVEY, ESQ.

In those palmy days when the present Théâtre du Vaudeville, that Charybdis of managerial hopes and fortunes, was not, and when the grelots of Momus resounded merrily in the dusty, smoky, comfortless little salle of the Rue de Chartres, authors were far more courageous and Aristophanical than we-from our own personal experience of modern vaudevillistes can have any idea. At that time play-goers looked for something more than unhealthy sentiment diluted into three acts, and christened "drame-vaudeville,' or "comédie-vaudeville” - a class of pieces, by-the-way, of which M. Ancelot, member of the Académie Française, and at one period manager of the Théâtre de la Bourse, may be called the originator. People then flocked to the theatre to listen to -not puerile imitations of Marivaux, nor dull adaptations of duller novels, but-des actualités, skits at the errors and follies of the day, social and political, smartly written and teeming with the most pungent satire. In such troublous times it may easily be conceived that the extreme license, which no dramatist scrupled to allow himself, was frequently resented by the victims thus unmercifully shown up, and many, indeed, were the scandales to which the witty personalities, so rapturously applauded by the habitués of the Rue de Chartres, gave rise.

Political allusions, however, were more dangerous, and required a greater delicacy of handling; there having been always a few vacant cells in the Conciergerie for writers who directed their satirical shafts against those in power. It is a ticklish thing in such cases to laugh at the wrong man. Thus Barré, Radet, and Desfontaines, having in their piece called "La Chaste Suzanne" made the judge, in his address to the grey-headed persecutors of Suzanne, say, "You are her accusers, and therefore cannot be her judge;" these words were looked upon as a dim allusion to the coming trial of Marie Antoinette, and the three authors were consequently thrown into prison, where they remained six

months.

Subsequently to the Restoration, writers grew more careful, and seldom meddled with politics; the talent of Madame Albert, and, later still, the extraordinary popularity of Arnal, furnishing other employment for their pens. When Désaugiers first took the management of the Vaudeville,

his old friend and fellow-member of the Caveau moderne, Béranger, exhorted him in a pleasant chanson to restore to his theatre its ancient spécialité. One of the stanzas runs as follows:

Malgré messieurs de la police,

Le Vaudeville est né frondeur;
Des abus fais ton bénéfice,

Force les grands à la pudeur :
Dénonce tout flatteur servile
A la gaîté du souverain.

Eh! va ton train,

Gai boute-en-train,

Mets nous en train, bien en train, tous en train,

Et rends enfin au Vaudeville

Ses grelots et son tambourin.

Désaugiers, however, contented himself with practising the precepts laid down in the refrain, without either treating his audiences to personalities or to politics, nor did any of his numerous successors think fit to brave the censure as long as there was a censure. It remained for M. Clairville-in this eventful year of 1848, so pregnant with rain and revolutions -to become the Junius of vaudevillistes, and to profit by the moment when Republicanism was on its last legs to give it the coup de grâce.

This he has done right cordially and right cleverly in "La Propriété c'est le Vol," ostensibly a satire on M. Proudhon and the Socialists, but abounding in sly and telling hits against the glorious "une et indivisible." One couplet, sung by Tétard, merits quotation, as showing with what tact a French writer can effleurer a delicate question without committing himself. The lines have a retrospective tendency, being supposed to be sung in 1852, four years after the nomination of President No. 1, whose various qualities the singer touches on in the following rather vague

manner.

Pendant quatre ans, il présidait la France,
C'était un grand—un grand, était-il grand?
Qu'importe, on connait sa vaillance,

Sa vaillance-était-il vaillant ?

Qu'importe, on connait son talent,

Mais quel talent avait cette âme forte?
Qu'importe encor, ce grand brun nous guidait,
Etait-il brun? était-il blond? qu'importe,
Ce que je sais, c'est qu'il nous présidait;

Je ne sais plus ce qu'il était, qu'importe,
Ce que je sais, c'est qu'il nous présidait.

Whatever Clairville's sins of commission and omission as a dramatist may be, he is assuredly one of the neatest couplet-writers in France; the concentration of witty points in a small space being his particular forte. This peculiar talent is especially evident in the revues annually produced at the Palais Royal, the authorship of which has for the last two or three years devolved chiefly on him. There are couplets in the "Banc d'Huîtres" and the "Poudre Coton," which, for point and harmony of versification have seldom been surpassed, even by Scribe.

Nor is the piece at present under review in this respect inferior to any of its predecessors, although not a few of the jokes border on the profane. This is the fault of the subject, a most ill-chosen and unbecoming one; the first tableau being neither more nor less than a burlesque version of the creation, Monsieur Adam, Madame Eve, and Monsieur le Serpent forming the characters. Truly, the French are an anomalous, an incomprehensible people; according to their own accounts, they ought to be

considered the pioneers of civilisation, the luminaries of the age; and yet, we find not only permitted, but positively encouraged and applauded by them, an exhibition which would not be tolerated in any other part of Christian Europe. Madame Anaïs Ségalas, the feuilletoniste of the "Corsaire," to her honour be it spoken, has ventured to raise her voice in condemnation of such sacrilegious mockery, but she is an exception, and exceptions, alas! do not make the rule.

Two things are certain; first, that "La Propriété c'est le Vol" has already drawn more money to the treasury (upwards of 3000 francs a night on an average) than all the other novelties together which have been played during the present management; and secondly, had it not been. produced, a fortnight or three weeks would probably have seen the directors insolvents and the company starving. Poor Félix was becoming very infelix, Madame Octave was out of tune, Mademoiselle Caroline Bader found matters growing badder every day, Madame Restout could not rest, Madame Paul Ernest looked most wofully in earnest, and Mademoiselle Judith felt so out of sorts, that if she had had a Holopherne "convanient," it would have gone hard with him.

Now the five-franc pieces tumble in faster than the caissier can count them, and people are nightly turned away from the doors, only, like Whittington, to turn in again, whenever there is room for them. Nay more, if this run of good houses continues, M. Clairville, as well as Messieurs les Directeurs, Bouffé and Paul Ernest,-arcades ambo, both arch heads (?)—will be legitimately entitled to inscribe on their respective visiting cards the flattering term of propriétaire, or in Proudhonian and Vaudevillian parlance, voleur.

The depressed state of the drama in Paris has had a corresponding effect in the provinces. The Lyons theatre, after a short season, has been compelled to close its doors, and without any immediate prospect of reopening them. It was in this very salle that some ten years ago a whimsical occurrence took place, during the performance of "l'Avare." Harpagon was bitterly bewailing the loss of his treasure as follows:"Justice, juste ciel! je suis perdu, je suis assassiné; on m'a coupé la gorge; on m'a dérobé mon argent !"-when one of the amateurs in the pit, sympathising with the comedian's emotion, rose from his seat, and cried out; "Don't take it so to heart, my good man, don't take it so to heart; it was your son who stole your money!" The audience, as may be expected, burst into a general laugh; and the actor, after thanking his informant with great gravity, quietly proceeded with his part.

This reminds me of a similar anecdote, still current in theatrical circles. "Britannicus" was in course of representation, and the actor who played Narcisse was in the act of repeating to Nero what he had previously said to Britannicus, thus alternately deceiving each; when a deeply interested spectator, wishing to put Nero on his guard, exclaimed, with great apparent indignation,—

"Don't believe him, sir, he has just said as much to your brother!"

A mutilated version of "Money" has lately been listened to with frigid indifference at the Théâtre Historique. With respect to this untoward reception two reasons may be urged; the one pro, the other contra.

Pro-inasmuch as the piece was badly translated, badly learnt, and badly acted by the dead weights, or bouche-trous of the company. Contra-inasmuch as any extraordinary novelty or rarity on the stage Jan.-VOL. LXXXV. No. CCCXXXVII.

K

generally obtains at least a succès de curiosité-a reason especially applicable at the present moment, there existing assuredly in the Republican Paris of December, 1848, no greater novelty nor rarity than money.

It remains to be seen whether the arts and sciences will find in Louis Napoleon as constant a Mæcenas as they did in his uncle. M. Alfred de Vigny once assured me that Napoleon was so extremely proud of having been elected a member of the Institute, and so anxious to show his respect for the dignity conferred on him that, even in the most eventful moments of his Imperial career, he never omitted applying for the trifling honoraires to which he was entitled as one of that body.

There stands within four or five doors of the Place de la Bastille, on the Boulevard Beaumarchais, a small, but tastefully decorated theatre, also named after the author of the "Barbier de Séville." Its chief supporters are the inhabitants of the immediate neighbourhood, so many of whom take season tickets, and therefore walk in and out when they please, that the office of money-takers at the doors is almost a sinecure. M. de Jouy, an enterprising and clever manager, lately undertook the direction of this little temple of Thespis, but, in consequence of the depressed state of theatricals since the days of June, was at first unable to recall his scattered flock of habitués.

Luckily, he bethought himself of a certain Angelina, who had formerly shared with Chonchon Léontine of the Gaîté the honourable appellation of la Dejazet du Boulevard, and whose gay and spirited acting had long been the delight of the ancient patrons of the Théâtre Beaumarchais. M. de Jouy felt that, though he had re-gilded his pretty salle, his pockets were becoming every day more innocent of gold and even of silver, and that, though he had recovered his benches, he had not recovered his subscribers. Therefore, recalling to mind Clairville's lines,

Qu'importe, hélas ! qu'on ait doré le temple,
S'il est privé de sa divinité !

he forthwith addressed to the pensionnaire of his predecessor a managerial version of

Turn, Angelina, ever dear.

Nor was his appeal unheard; the fascinating truant did turn, and with her M. de Jouy's luck turned likewise.

The success of the new revue, at the Palais Royal, "Les Lampions de la Veille et les Lanternes du Lendemain," is, though a fait accompli, still in its infancy. Two months hence it will probably be at its zenith, and then it will be time to talk about it. It is sufficient now to say, that in justification of the popularity of M. Clairville's youngest bantling, not one only, but nine reasons may be given. Ecole.

Levassor, Sainville, Alcide Tousez,
Grassot, Amant, Hyacinthe, Luguet,
Bache and Mademoiselle Scriwaneck.

I might easily make up the dozen, even the baker's, but trop est trop. Est modus in rebus.

December 21, 1848.

THE THEATRES.

As we cannot hope to keep pace with the burlesques and pantomimes provided for the Christmas holidays, since the day of their production is about the same as that when we are forced to go to press, we must reserve our reflections on fairies, goblins, harlequins, and clowns, for another month.

Therefore, declaring ourselves free from all connexion with the Christmas theatrical season, we have a free choice of subjects before us. On things immediately of the day we cannot hope to talk, and hence we avail ourselves of the opportunity of dealing in some general matter.

A general fact, well worth the attention of our readers, is the great quantity of comic histrionic talent now in London. People talk largely of the decline of British actors, and with regard to certain lines of business they are undoubtedly correct. They may also be right in affirming that no such brilliant company can be brought together as in former days. The multiplicity of theatres causes the existing talent to be diffused all over the metropolis; but if the amateur will take the trouble of going from theatre to threatre with the special object of observing the good comedians, he will be astonished to find how numerous they are.

In the first place, there can scarcely be a more excellent actor of light comedy than Mr. Charles Mathews. Possessed of a mercurial temperament, endued with unweared vivacity, he has superadded an exquisite finish that calls to mind the best acting of the French stage, while it is not marked by that absence of decided "point," which renders French acting somewhat tame in the eyes of all audiences excepting those composed of real habitués. If he has a part in which he may do as he likes, it is surprising with what judgment he will avail himself of the license. Not a minute will pass without some new oddity breaking forth; but with all his overflow of spirits, he will not for a moment lose sight of the soundest discretion. In a little piece, called "An Appeal to the Public," he is allowed to talk to the audience across the lamps from the beginning to the end. The play of fancy is constant; but at the same time all is as polished as possible. A severer test than this piece to show the difference between a vulgar and a polished actor, could not be devised.

Mr. Keeley is another instance of an union between a happy naturel and the most consummate art. Some years ago he was looked upon as an actor indebted for his comic efforts partly to the shortness of his figure, and partly to a knack which he had acquired of giving his face a ludicrous expression of niaiserie, or terror. Certainly no actor ever equalled Mr. Keeley in the representation of terrified astonishment; but those persons were widely mistaken who fancied that his talent was confined to this characteristic oddity. Let him be seen in one of Shakspeare's characters now,-Launce, for example. Every look, every motion, every modulation of the voice, is full of significance. The part is taken up with a resolution of making the most of it, and there is not a weak place left. Such a thorough conception of a character down to its most minute exhibitions can only be the result of profound study, and this, coupled with Mr. Keeley's rich natural humour, produces an inimitable result. He is the only actor on the stage who has that "old school" combina

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