Minie, had her love been severed from its object, might, perhaps, have buried it in her heart awhile; but then she would have drooped and died. Still Howard watched well; still was the idea that he was beloved, too precious, too consoling to be risked by an avowal. Perhaps, after all, he was deceived; and Minie's engaging artlessness and innocent confidence were only fancied love. It was strange that in all these incongruities of feeling, the thought of his father never intruded; Minie was very nearly the same in point of fortune as her sister had been when he first knew her, and Lord Glenvylle's consent just as unlikely to be gained; yet Frank never thought about that, thus confirming Lord St. Maur's belief that had he really loved Florence, he would never have been so long quiet on the subject. (To be continued.) IV. Ages yet shall know it, Brake a soldier's trust. On himself he drew. In the rolls of glory Blank shall be his place; But the childless mother Knows not the disgrace. E. A. H. O. THE DIRGE OF THE DISHONOURED SOLDIER. I. When no more the battle Boometh on the breeze, Where above the streamlet Bend the willow trees (As a widowed woman Stoopeth to the storm Which she cannot buffet, Weak of heart and form), Low to lay the soldier Silently we come ; Not for him the volley, Not for him the drum. II. He was like his mother, Human life was dear: III. Fled! and struck in flying, WINTER HAS COME. BY J. GOSLIN. He comes! he comes! we see him now, 'Neath his chilly vest; Breaks the bonds on each shore, The trees are bare, the hills look bleak, O'er fields and o'er rocks, Sad, silent, and weak; And the sea-gull curves through the bitter air, Portending the storm that is harboured there. THE CLAQUEURS OF PARIS. (IN TWO PARTS.) PART I. This singular species of profession is altogether unknown in England, its invention and adoption being, I believe, strictly confined to France. These dispensers of dramatic success are known under various designations-they are indifferently termed Claqueurs, Romains, Cabaleurs, or la Cabale; Bandes, or Chevaliers du Lustre. The last denomination they owe to the spot where they chiefly congregate, namely, the parterre immediately under the lustre. Before the institution of these doughty knights, the great majority of dramatic authors were as unwilling as they are at present to trust to chance alone for the success of their productions. But they then confined themselves to the efforts of their friends, whom they sent in as large a body as possible to the theatre, having, for the first nights of representation, a considerable number of tickets of admission at their disposal. But it was soon discovered that friends were either dull enough not to perceive the beauties of the piece they were requested to support, or too unenthusiastic or genteel to express in a sufficiently obstreperous manner their applause. Besides, they were too easily deterred by the first symptoms of opposition, and often abandoned the field without fighting the battle. It was then surmised, and wisely, that the only means of having a zealous, determined, and efficient support, was to base it upon that great primum mobile of exertion, constancy, and devotion-money; to turn what had been a matter of complaisance into an affair of trade, and instead of trusting to the uncertain voices and weak hands of friends, to purchase the throats of the needy at so much per shout, and pay their applause at so many francs the round. It was therefore resolved, in imitation of those managers of larger theatres, called kings, to raise, organize, and keep in pay a standing army of sturdy admirers, who should have no will but that of the stage director, no judgment but that furnished them by the author-fellows "Who take suggestion as a cat laps milk, Who tell the clock to any business that We say benefits the hour." Thus then was instituted with the common consent, and for the common interest of theatrical managers, authors, and actors, the order of the "Knights of the Lustre." It was from the Corps de perruquiers that the first bands of these critical condottieri were taken, and even at present it is this body that furnishes the greatest number of recruits to fill up the places of those who have clapped their hands for the last time. | In Each theatre has its chief of cabal, and corps of clappers. The chief is chosen by the manager of the theatre, and he then selects and disciplines the myrmidons who are to act under his orders. It is he alone who is in direct communication with the administration of the theatre, with the authors and actors. His place, which is a very lucrative one, is eagerly sought after, but it requires considerable, intelligence, tact, and not unfrequently great bodily strength and skill in arms. deed of late days these latter qualities have become almost indispensable, and a diploma from a fencing master is almost a sine qua non to secure admission into the band. Those of the knights of the lustre who are fortunate enough to have a couple or so of duels on their hands, resulting out of a contested representation, are certain of being rewarded both by money and promotion. The clapper-in-chief, who is generally dressed in an elegant suit of black, is present at the rehearsal of the pieces in preparation. He takes down notes of all the scenes, tirades, couplets, &c., where it will be necessary to applaud or cry bis. These passages are pointed out to him, sometimes by the authors, but more particularly by the actors, which latter thus know beforehand when they are to be so agreeably interrupted, and prepare their play in consequence. This fore-knowledge is of great importance, particularly in tragedy, because the applauders not only encourage and animate the actor, but also afford him an interval of repose so necessary after the violent and lung-tearing delivery of the scarcely ever-ending tirades which beset French tragedies. The chief of cabal, from his knowledge of the weak parts of the piece, knows at what moment it will be necessary to chauffer (technical) the inert mass of the public; and also being acquainted with those passages in which an actor is likely to limp or come tame off, he gets ready the bravos and encouraging expressions that are to help him over the style. In fine, he takes special note of all those words meant to produce effect, and marks the points and humourous hits upon which the author reckons for the success of his piece. His enthusiasm, to which is most strictly subjected that of his subaltern agents, commences and terminates exactly at those passages marked upon his paper, which is fixed in the crown of his hat. At certain signals, known only to the band, his aides de camp, who have ready their battoirs (their hands are thus called from their ponderousness and percussive force) second his clapping, and the author-and the delightful sound is propagated through a nicely regulated series of gradations by the rest of the clan, till, from the masterly manner in which dience held in a state of surprise half ludicrous, they are disposed almost through every part of half pathetic. At length Herod, whose sole buthe house, the applause appears to be general; siness in the play was to murder this very baby, though probably every male spectator present, came forward to announce that the Orphelin de except the hired ones, have, like the crocodile Bethleem had, in his progress to the stage, mentioned by the Irish judge, "their hands in vanished through a trap-door and descended to their breeches pockets." The force, loudness, the regions below, and that he was, in connumber, and duration of these prepared bursts sequence of the fright and fall, incapable of apof applause depend upon several circumstances. pearing before them. This pendant to the "part In the first place, they follow in a most rigid of Hamlet omitted by particular desire," was ratio the quantity of money given, or tickets dis- followed by a scene of most admired disortributed by the authors or actors. The heavier der." Some most mal apropos plaudits from the sum the more loud and frequent the clap. the mallet-handed supporters of Herod, caused It also happens that the Claqueurs sometimes the indignation of the paying spectators to exregulate their movements according to the more plode, and they replied to the bravos by a wellor less favourable disposition of the veritable sustained fire of groans and hisses. From sounds audience. When they perceive that the per- the adverse parties proceeded to more substanformance pleases them, and that some genuine tial tokens of hostility; a regular row comapplause is mingled with the base coin of their menced, and raged long and loudly, during approbation, they redouble their zeal, and in- which blows fell" thick as the leaves in Vastead of one or two rounds of clapping, they lombrosa." The unpugilistic portion of the give three and sometimes four, in order to still parterre rushed in wild confusion and alarm into further excite the public, and produce a com- the orchestra; the scared musicians snatched plete success, "a success of enthusiasm" (as it up their fragile instruments, scrambled light of is called) in which case they become entitled to foot over the foot-lights, and executed in double additional remuneration. If, on the contrary, quick time a fugue over the stage. After halfthe public should show symptoms of dissatis-an-hour's hard knocking, the glory of the knights faction or impatience, and that the piece should be really damnable, they then observe somewhat of management and moderation in their approbation-they endeavour to avoid urging the audience to opposition by exaggerated or illtimed applause. But, nevertheless, they are up in arms at the first hiss that is hazarded; they rise like one man, and yell forth with stentorian lungs à bas la Cabale, à la porte. This cry, as appropriate from the lips of these horn-palmed and brazen-throated amateurs as that of "stop thief" from a detected pick-pocket, has but too often the effect of silencing the first opposition of the decorous and paying part of the audience. However, on some occasions, which, unfortunately for the independence of the French theatre, are like "angels' visits, few and far between," the veritable spectators do screw their courage to the sticking," or rather "striking" place, assert their undoubted right to damn a worthless production, and drive from the house these miserable mercenaries. A remarkable instance of this happened, I remember, at the Odeon theatre, when a regular row took place that would have done honour to the pit of either Drury-lane or Covent-garden. The occasion was the first representation of a tragedy, called L'Orphelin de Bethleem, founded upon an episode of the murder of the innocents, under Herod. The audience were listening with their usual equanimity to the drawling Alexandrines of this pitiful piece, when a ludicrous accident aroused them and brought on the catastrophe, not of the tragedy but of the author. In the second act, when the two-year old hero of the tragedy, the young Eleacin, was to make his appearance, the shrill squealing of a child was heard from under the stage; the business of the play was necessarily interrupted, the actors frightened from their propriety," and the au ་་ of the lustre burned dim, their roaring throats were hushed in silence, and Herod received what he deserved-d- -n. Even this dire ceremony terminated in a manner characteristic of the French; the closing scene, owing to the ludicrous mistake of an actor, having produced an universal shout of laughter. The child (the son of Mary), whose destruction Herod chiefly aimed at, having been taken into Egypt, a messenger was despatched to overtake and destroy him, if possible. The messenger shortly after returned, and said to Herod, " L'Enfants' embarqué malgré la diligence," ma deligence he should have said; but the ludicrous substitution of the article for the pronoun elevated the audience into the highest heaven of hilarity; even the vanquished Romans were seen to "grin horribly a ghastly smile." But to return to our history of the profession: a very important improvement has been recently made in the discipline and tactics of the claqueurs, the honour of inventing, which appertains to the manager of the Theatre du Gymnase. These success-insurers no longer confine their efforts to mere applauding; they now weep, whimper, laugh, and let escape involuntary exclamations of admiration, delight, ecstasy, and enthusiasm, as the case may require, or the reward justify. In the sentimental passages these tender souls draw forth their pocket-handkerchiefs to dry up imaginary tears; and, on the other hand, when a piquant sentence, or pointed bon mot, is pronounced by the actor, they are the first to perceive the wit, or catch the allusion, and to burst into a fit of well dissembled laughter, which is sometimes, like that of the gods, almost inextinguishable. At other times they utter, in a tone of the deepest conviction, C'est sublime! c'est charmante delicieux, admirable! quellee actrice parfait quelle connaissance profonde du cœur M humain ! inimitable acteur! The poor provincial, who happens to be near these actors off the stage, and who takes everything for gold that glitters at Paris, catches fire from the spurious enthusiasm of his neighbours, and is gulled into applauding the most spiritless trash or the most detestable acting. At the little theatres on the Boulevards, to the parterres of which women are admitted, some of the melo-dramatists, who furnish these establishments with the required quantity of murder, arson, injured innocence, and triumphant villany, keep a band of female weepers in their pay, who are able, in a given time, by the mere force of sympathy, to set a whole audience snivelling, and “ drown the stage with tears." On the day of a first representation, the chief of cabal and his familiars assemble in a cabaret, or inferior café, in the neighbourhood of the theatre; he there gives them his instructions, appoints them to their different places, and acquaints them with the change of tactics he has resolved upon, in case a vigorous opposition should be demanded. But of this there is seldom much danger, as there are but comparatively few tickets delivered at the doors the night of a new piece, the greater part of the house being reserved for claqueurs, who are introduced by a private door (called la porte de secoure), before the public is admitied. These claqueurs always consider themselves as persons of very grave importance whose countenance and support are even necessary to productions of merit, and actors of talent. all have recourse to them. The sale of tickets, The following anecdote may give my reader some idea of the serious and business-like manner in which these theatrical traders carry on their metier. A young author, who had written one or two dramatic productions, but was not yet initiated into the mysteries of the craft, received, one morning, a visit from a very grave monsieur, wearing besicles, and dressed in a very respectable suit of sables. This monsieur, after a brilliant flourish of compliments, made an offer of his services. Our author begged him to explain himself, when he said, "It is I who make the pieces (qui fais les pieces) of Messrs. So and So."-"What do you mean to say?". Yes, sir, it is I who make them succeed," accompanying the words with a very expressive and not-to-be-misunderstood motion of his hands. The author saw through the object of his visit, but catera desunt. A just outcry has been raised, and is fre- [It was stated that the manager of the Opera quently repeated, against this shameful abuse. Comique, some years ago, allowed a comfortable Indeed, several of the Parisian theatres have pension to the widow of a perruquier, who had made, or have pretended to take measures for mainly contributed, by his exertions and great the extirpation of these weeds. But the task savoir faire, to the success of his pieces. To is almost a hopeless one, there are so many per- conclude this sketch of the claqueurs of Paris, sons interested in their continuance and propa- take the following trait. The chief cabal of one gation; it being to the advantage of authors, of the principal theatres, whose daughter had actors, and managers that the suppression just attained a marriageable age, being asked should not take place. Actors and actresses what fortune he intended to give her, replied, are desirous of being soignés (this is the tech-"If I should find a son-in-law to my mind, and nical expression) on their coming on and quit-possessing the talents requisite for the profesting the stage. Even those performers who en- sion, I shall give him my daughter, the Theatre joy well-merited reputation, are weak enough to Français, and perhaps the Grand Opera too!"] follow this degrading example. They subsidize the chief of the cabal, and give him on the days they perform all the tickets to which they are ON THE DESTRUCTION OF THE PORTentitled. They are persuaded that these hired applauses give an impulse to the paying spectators. As to the debutants, woe to them should they disdain to have recourse to the claqueurs, who, in such a case, would crowd to the theatre, and hiss the unfortunate delinquent from the stage. Hence it happens that a debut is an affair of considerable expense; and, in more instances than one, it has been known that a poor girl, about to commence her theatrical career, has sacrificed her honour, to enable her to meet the exorbitant demands of these base and degraded ruffians. Authors are no less interested in the continuance of this disgraceful institution: many of them dread the claqueurs; others stand in need of them; and LAND VASE. BY J. J. REYNOLDS. Inimitable vase! Thou relic fair, And silent chronicler of days gone by; |