was expelled from the little theatre of the
Palais Royal, it became the scene of all manner of bastard performances.
Rope dancers, wooden puppets, even dogs were the actors. The most
intelligent of these were the quadrupeds. Mr. Hervey gives the following
analysis of a melodrama enacted by them:--

"A young Russian princess, held captive in a castle by a tyrant, has a
lover, who has sworn to effect her rescue. On the rising of the curtain,
the fair prisoner, a pretty spaniel, is discovered walking on the
parapet of a tower; the lover, a very handsome dog, presently appears at
the foot of the wall, barking most amorously. As for the tyrant, he is
represented by a ferocious-looking bull-dog, with a smashed nose. On a
given signal, the lover's army make their entree, and scale the walls of
the castle, which, after a gallant defence on the part of the garrison,
is finally taken, and the princess delivered."

When the public had had enough of these canine comedies, the theatre was
converted into a coffee-house. But the old dramatic prestige still hung
about the place, and, after a time, the frequenters of the establishment
were diverted, whilst sipping their punch and lemonade, with detached
scenes and short vaudevilles, performed by two or three persons.
Finally, in 1830, the house was rebuilt, and a regular license obtained;
and from that date to the present day it has been a favourite resort of
all lovers of a hearty laugh. Dejazet and Achard were long its chief
support. They have left it; but others, little, if at all, inferior,
have replaced them. Foremost amongst these stands Pierre Levassor, the
best comic ballad-singer in France. Innumerable were the difficulties he
had to overcome before he could fully gratify his passion for acting,
and display his innate talent at a Paris theatre. His father, an old
soldier of Napoleon's armies, opposed his propensity, which early
manifested itself, in every possible way, and apprenticed him to a
trade. During the revolution of 1830, young Levassor was on business at
Marseilles, where a dinner was given to celebrate the event. "At the
general request, he sang the song of the _Trois Couleurs_, with such
immense success, that on the party adjourning after dinner to the
theatre, a note was thrown on the stage, in which he volunteered to sing
it in public, if agreeable to the audience. The offer was accepted; and
both song and vocalist were loudly applauded." This incident was
decisi