t into a parcel the reverse of coquettish. You
can fancy him a grocer retailing tapioca and hominy--full weight for
the price; his style seems a sort of integument of brown paper. But the
fact remains that if M. Sarcey praises a play, the play has a run; and
that if M. Sarcey says it won't do, it does not do at all. If M. Sarcey
devotes an encouraging line and a half to a young actress, mademoiselle
is immediately _lancee_; she has a career. If he bestows a quiet
"bravo" on an obscure comedian, the gentleman may forthwith renew his
engagement. When you make and unmake fortunes at this rate, what
matters it whether you have a little elegance the more or the less?

Elegance is for M. Paul de St. Victor, who does the theatres in the
"Moniteur," and who, though he writes a style only a trifle less
pictorial than that of Theophile Gautier himself, has never, to the
best of my belief, brought clouds or sunshine to any playhouse. I may
add, to finish with M. Sarcey, that he contributes a daily political
article--generally devoted to watching and showing up the "game" of the
clerical party--to Edmond About's journal, the "XIXieme Siecle"; that
he gives a weekly _conference_ on current literature; that he "confers"
also on those excellent Sunday morning performances now so common in
the French theatres, during which examples of the classic repertory
are presented, accompanied by a light lecture upon the history and
character of the play. As the commentator on these occasions M. Sarcey
is in great demand, and he officiates sometimes in small provincial
towns. Lastly, frequent playgoers in Paris observe that the very
slenderest novelty is sufficient to insure at a theatre the (very
considerable) physical presence of the conscientious critic of the
"Temps." If he were remarkable for nothing else, he would be remarkable
for the fortitude with which he exposes himself to the pestiferous
climate of the Parisian temples of the drama.

For these agreeable "notices" M. Sarcey appears to have mended his pen
and to have given a fillip to his fancy. They are gracefully and often
lightly turned; occasionally, even, the author grazes the epigrammatic.
They deal, as is proper, with the artistic and not with the private
physiognomy of the ladies and gentlemen whom they commemorate; and
though they occasionally allude to what the French call "intimate"
matters, they contain no satisfaction for the lovers of scandal. The
Theatre Francais, in the