ringing back the public to the old house. The direction
was offered then to M. Hippolyte Lucas, the dramatic critic of _Le
Siecle_, and one of the best English scholars I have ever met with among
the French, and, on his declining the responsibility, given to Lireux,
who for the sake of making a point, exclaimed, "Directeur!... au refus
d'Hippolyte Lucas!"[21]

[Footnote 21: An imitation of the line of Don Carlos in Hugo's
"Hernani": "Empereur!... au refus de Frederic-le-Sage!"--EDITOR.]

It was a piece of bad taste on Lireux's part, because M. Lucas was his
superior in every respect, though he would probably have failed where
the other succeeded--at least for a while. Save for this mania of saying
smart things in and out of season, Lireux was really a good-natured
fellow, and we were all glad that he had realized his ambition. The
venture looked promising enough at the start. He got an excellent
company together, comprising Bocage, Monrose, Gil-Peres, Maubant,
Mdlles. Georges and Araldi, Madame Dorval, etc.; and if, like young
Bonaparte's troops, they were badly paid and wanted for everything, they
worked with a will, because, like Bonaparte, Lireux inspired them with
confidence. He, on the other hand, knew their value, and on no pretext
would allow them to be ousted from the positions they had honourably
won by their talents and hard work. Presumptuous mediocrity, backed
either by influence or intrigue, found him a stern adversary; the
intriguer got his answer in such a way as to prevent him from returning
to the charge. One day an actor of reputed incapacity, Machanette,
claimed the title-role in Moliere's "Misanthrope."

"You have no one else to play Alceste," he said.

"Yes, I have. I have got one of the checktakers," replied Lireux.

Auguste Lireux was one of those managers the race of which began with
Harel at the Porte Saint-Martin and Dr. Veron at the Opera. Duponchel,
at the latter house, Montigny at the Gymnase, Buloz and Arsene Houssaye
at the Comedie-Francaise, endeavoured as far as possible to follow their
traditions of liberality towards the public and their artists, and
encouragement given to untried dramatists. It was not Lireux's fault
that he did not succeed for any length of time. Of course, there is a
ridiculous side to everything. During the terrible cholera visitation of
1832, Harel published a kind of statistics, showing that not a single
one of the spectators had been attack