sed to be planted a few judicious claqueurs
about the house at his own expense, and that night bravos and
hand-clappings were bestowed on Lemaitre alone. This suited the actor's
notions to a nicety. Not so with the actress, however. "These people
have no taste," she thought; "but that can't last." So she arranged
privately for a small claque of her own, and that night she also was
applauded. But this sort of game was one which the smaller players of
the theatre could take a hand in, too. And on the third night, strange
to say, there was applause for everything and everybody; all the
performers had "ovations" in turn; even the ballet-girls had a share in
the general glory so liberally bestowed. "What is the meaning of this?"
demanded Lemaitre and Dorval of the manager: "did you not promise that
your claque should be discharged?" The manager shrugged his shoulders.
"My claque is discharged," said he; "and now there are, I perceive,
three claques instead of one--yours, madame's and the whole company's.
Nothing could be fairer."

It may seem strange that our actor, who dealt so roughly with the critic
who suggested bribery, should have condescended to pay men for applause.
But custom regulates our sense of honor. The claque is an institution so
openly recognized in French theatres that the proudest dramatic or lyric
temple in Paris would not know what to do without it. Even the classic
Theatre Francais and the frigid Odeon, which are in great part supported
by the government, and about which hangs the purest odor of high art,
have each a regularly organized claque, which is paid to applaud, and
which holds its rehearsals with the same solemnity that the players do,
in order to introduce at the proper moment a gust of hand-clapping, a
burst of laughter, or cries of "Bravo! bravo!" There is no concealment
whatever about their operations. The claqueurs occupy conspicuous seats
in every theatre, and it is often quite an entertainment in itself to
watch their goings on. The leader gives the signal to begin and the sign
to stop; and if any man of his band applauds too idly, that man is
openly rebuked, and instructed by vehement gesture to do his duty
better.

But, as has been said, Lemaitre was growing spoiled as a man by his
success as an artist. He rebelled against the idea that any person
should be admired on the scene where he was king, and he carried this
feeling to the absurdest lengths. In one of his plays he had to bring