the legitimate door of the Tadcaster Inn, which had, beside it, a small bastard door, by which folks entered. Who says bastard, says pre-, ferred. This lower door was not the only one through which there was a way. It opened into the tavern, properly so called, which was a large taproom, full of tobacco smoke, furnished with tables, and low in the ceiling. It was lighted by a window on the first floor, to the iron bars to which was fastened and hung the sign of the inn. The principal door, barricaded and bolted for good, remained shut.

It was necessary to cross the tavern to enter the courtyard. There was at Tadcaster Inn a master and a boy. The master was called Master Nicless, the boy Govicum. Master Nicless-Nicholas, without doubt, which the English habit of contraction had made Nicless, was a miserly widower, and one who respected and trembled at the laws. As to his appearance, he had bushy eyebrows and hairy hands. The boy, aged fourteen, who poured out drink, and answered to the name of Govicum, had a large, merry face, and an apron. His hair was cropped close, a sign of servitude.

He slept on the ground floor, in a hut into which they formerly put a dog. This hut had for a window a bull's-eye looking on to the bowling-green.

The Green Box had arrived in London It was established at Southwark. Ursus had been tempted by the bowling-green, which had this excellence, that the fair was never-ending, even in winter.

To see the dome of St. Paul's was a pleasure to Ursus.

London, take it all in all, has some fine things in it. It was an act of bravery to dedicate a cathedral to St. Paul. The true cathedral saint is St. Peter. St. Paul is suspected of imagination, and in matters ecclesiastical imagination means heresy. St. Paul is only a saint by extenuating circumstances. He only entered heaven by the artistic door.

A cathedral is a sign. St. Peter signifies Rome, the city of dogmas. St. Paul signifies London, the city of schism.

Ursus, whose philosophy had arms so long that it embraced all, was a man who appreciated these shades of difference, and his attraction towards London arose, perhaps, from a certain taste for St. Paul.

The large court of the Tadcaster Inn had fixed the choice of Ursus. The court seemed to have been made for the Green Box. It was a ready-made theatre. It was square, and built upon three sides, with a wall over against the front of the house. Against

this wall they placed the Green Box, which could enter the courtyard, thanks to the large dimensions of the grand entrance. A large wooden balcony, roofed over, and supported on posts, on to which the rooms of the first storey opened, was fastened to the three fronts of the interior façade of the house, making two right angles.

The windows of the ground floor formed the boxes, the pavement of the court made the pit, and the balcony made the balcony. The Green Box, reared against the wall, had before it a theatrical house. It resembled greatly the Globe, where they played "Othello," "King Lear," and "The Tempest."

In a corner behind the Green Box was a stable.

Ursus had made his arrangements with the tavern keeper, Master Nicless, who, in consequence of his respect to the laws, would not admit the wolf without making him pay dearly for it.

The placard, "Gwynplaine, the Grinning Man," taken from its nail in the Green Box, was hung up close to the sign of the inn. The sitting-room of the tavern had, as we know, an inside door which opened into the court. By the side of this door was constructed off-hand, by means of an empty barrel, a box for the money taker, who was sometimes Fibi, and sometimes Vinos. It was managed much as at present. Who entered paid. Under the board of the Grinning Man was hung a piece of wood, painted white, on two nails, on which was charcoaled in large letters the title of Ursus' grand piece, "Chaos Vanquished."

In the centre of the balcony, precisely opposite the Green Box, in a compartment which had for its entrance a window down to the ground, had been reserved between two compartments a space for the nobility. It was large enough to hold, in two rows, ten spectators. "We are in London," said Ursus. "It is necessary to be prepared for the gentry."

He had furnished this box with the best chairs of the inn, and had placed in the centre a grand arm-chair of best Utrecht velvet, with a cherry-coloured pattern, in case some alderman's wife should come.

The representations began. The crowd immediately entered; but the compartment for the nobility remained empty. With that exception the success became so great, that no mountebank memory could recall its parallel. All Southwark ran in crowds to admire the Grinning Man.

The merryandrews and mountebanks of Tarrinzeau field were aghast at Gwynplaine. A sparrow-hawk flapping his wings in a cage of goldfinches, and feeding in their seed-trough, this was the effect. Gwynplaine ate up their public.

Besides the small fry, the swallowers of swords and the grimace makers, there were on the green real representations. There was a circus of women, ringing from morning till night a magnificent peal of all sorts of instruments,-psalteries, drums, rebecks, micamons, timbrels, reeds, dulcimers, gongs, chevrettes, bag-pipes, German horns, English eschaqueils, pipes, flutes, and flageolets.

They had under a large round tent some tumblers, who could not have equalled our present tumblers in the Pyrenees-Dulma, Bordenave, and Meylonga-who from the peak of Pierrefitte descend to the plateau of Limaçon, which is nearly perpendicular. There was a travelling menagerie, where was to be seen a performing tiger, who lashed by the keeper, tried to snap at the whip and swallow the lash. This comedian of jaws and claws was himself eclipsed.

Curiosity, applause, receipts, crowds, the Grinning Man took all. In the twinkle of an eye it was done. Nothing was to be thought

of but the Green Box.

"Chaos Vanquished' is 'Chaos Victor,'" said Ursus, appropriating to himself half the success of Gwynplaine, and taking the wind out of his sails, as we say in nautical phrase. The success of Gwynplaine was prodigious. Notwithstanding this, it remained local. It is difficult for a celebrity to pass over the water. It took a hundred and thirty years for the name of Shakspeare to penetrate from England into France. The water makes a wall; and if Voltaire -a thing which he very much regretted too late-had not made a short ladder to Shakspeare, Shakspeare at the present hour might still be on the other side of the wall in England, captive to insular glory.

The glory of Gwynplaine did not overpass London Bridge. It was not as yet large enough to find an echo in the great city. At least not during the first period. But Southwark might suffice to satisfy the ambition of a clown. Ursus said,

"The money bag of receipts grows visibly bigger."

They played "Ursus Rursus" and "Chaos Vanquished."

Between the acts Ursus exhibited his power as an engastrimist, and executed marvellous ventriloquism. He imitated every cry which occurred in the assembly-a song, a cry, startled by its resemblance, the singer or the crier himself; and occasionally he copied the acclamations of the public, and whistled as if he had within him a heap of people.

These were remarkable talents. Besides this, he harangued, and might be seen, like Cicero, selling his drugs, attending sickness, and even healing the sick.

Southwark was captivated.

Ursus was satisfied with the applause of Southwark, but by no means astonished.

"These are the ancient Trinobantes," he said.

Then he added, "I must not confound them for delicacy of taste, with Atrobates, who peopled Berkshire, or the Belgians who inhabited Somersetshire, nor with the Parisians who founded York."

At each representation the court of the inn, transformed into a pit, was filled by a ragged and enthusiastic audience. It was composed of watermen, chairmen, coachmen, and bargemen, and sailors just come ashore, spending their wealth in feasting and women. There were felons, ruffians, and blackguards, who were soldiers condemned for some fault in discipline to wear their red coats, which were lined with black, inside out, and from thence the name of blackguard, which the French turn into blaqueurs. All these flowed from the street into the theatre, and poured back from the theatre into the tap. Empty tankards did not decrease their success.

Amongst the people which it is usual to call the dregs, there was one taller than the rest, bigger, stronger, less poverty-stricken, broader in the shoulders; dressed like the common people, but not ragged.

Admiring and applauding all to the skies, making way with blows from his fists, having a disordered periwig, swearing, crying out, joking, not being dirty, and, when necessary, blackening an eye and paying for a bottle.

This connoisseur, being fascinated, had adopted the Grinning Man.

He did not come every evening, but when he came he led the public-applause was raised into acclamation—success went up, not to the friezes, for there were none, but to the clouds; and there were plenty of those. Even these clouds (seeing that there was not a roof) wept sometimes over this masterpiece of Ursus.

So much enthusiasm made Ursus remark this man, and caused Gwynplaine to observe him.

It was a great unknown friend they had there!

Ursus and Gwynplaine wished to know him; at least, to know who he was.

Ursus one evening, in the side-scene, which was the kitchen-door of the Green Box, having, by chance, Master Nicless near him, showed him the man mingled with the crowd, and asked him,

"Do you know that man?"

"Without doubt."

"Who is he?"

VOL. IV., N. S. 1869.