were being resurrected out of the sand or sawdust of the circus. At Astley's, Napoleon regained what he had lost at Waterloo. Reincarnated by Gomersal, he appears in Bon Gaultier's midnight scene to tell Lord Castlereagh :—

Thou thinkst that England hates me! Mark !-This very night my name

Was thundered in its capital with tumult and acclaim!

There is more than a word of truth in the jest. Circus warfare made him the hero of Europe. Time, of course, had had more to do with this change of feeling than Astley's. Nevertheless, the glamour of the past was intensified by the glitter of the gaslight. If this were so on the Surrey side of Westminster Bridge, how much more powerful must the spell have been on the Boulevard du Temple? Old grenadiers were moved to sigh for perils past and sins unforgiven; the younger generation, who knew nothing of the cold steel of war and much of the sounding brass of fame, were stage-struck when they smelt powder at Franconi's; in fact, the equestrian drama played no unimportant part in the return of the Bonapartes to the throne of France. The truth of this was plain enough to inspire a Punch artist to caricature Louis Napoleon as a juggler balancing his illustrious uncle's hat and boots on his nose while treading insecurely on the tops of bottles in the manner of Auriol, the famous clown of Franconi's.

Fire destroyed the old Cirque-Olympique in 1826, during the run of a spectacle illustrating the burning down of the town of Salins the year before. The new Cirque-Olympique opened in 1827, equipped for military spectacles, in the manner of Astley's ; which included a representation of Marshal Lannes' siege of Saragossa.

In 1830, Charles X was forced to abdicate, and the people's triumph over their ruler immediately caused all to burn with republican or Bonapartist ardour. Napoleon was again their idol. Whereas the Cirque-Olympique had hitherto delighted in staging sieges for the sake of fiery spectacles, the Franconi now staged such pieces for the sake of fiery patriotism. Every theatre was looking for an actor who could be proclaimed as bearing an astonishing likeness to the Grand homme. Frédérick Lemaître was emperor at the Odéon; Cazot, emperor at the Variétés ; Génot, emperor at the Opéra-Comique; Gobert, emperor at the

Porte-Saint-Martin; and Edmond, emperor chez Franconi. "All those who had known the Emperor," says Georges Cain in his "Anciens Théâtres de Paris,' ""all the veterans who had served under him, all the bourgeois who had seen him in profile on a medal, were thrilled to see him again in Cazot, Edmond and Prudent."

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These worthy actors took their mission seriously on or off the stage. Gobert gravely paraded the boulevard with knitted brows, hands behind his back and "le chapeau en bataille "; Edmond smoothed his lock and nobly took snuff from his leather waistcoatpocket; Cazot solemnly pinched the ear of the costumier when his breeches of white cashmere were well cut, and murmured, "Soldat, je suis content de vous." In the autumn of 1830, the Vaudeville was presenting "Bonaparte-lieutenant d'artillerie " the Variétés, Napoléon à Berlin ou la Redingote grise Nouveautés, "L'Écolier de Brienne ou le Petit Corporal"; Ambigu, "Napoléon "; Porte-Saint-Martin, Napoléon "; Cirque-Olympique, " Passage du mont Saint Bernard." Georges Cain knew an old artist's model who played Sir Hudson Lowe in "Sainte-Hélène." One night a mob, lying in wait at the stage-door, seized him and threw him in the basin of the Château d'Eau amid cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" During the run of this sad spectacle of the "Last Phase" at the Cirque, one old fellow was so overcome that he was carried out dying. Our author's grandfather, Nicolas-Touissant-Auguste Cain, a veteran of Italy, Spain and Waterloo, would only consent to visit the theatre when he might see the Emperor and the " Redingote grise."

In the 'thirties, the municipality took the Cirque-Olympique off the hands of its founder's family. Though still called Franconi's, the name of the establishment was now the "Théâtre du Cirque-Olympique." No longer were " Scenes in the Circle " displayed there. Both stage and arena were required solely for equestrian dramas such as "Murat," "L'Empire" and "Le Cheval du Diable." With singular unwisdom, the government directly encouraged displays of Napoleon's victories. Fond of hearing himself called the "Napoleon of Peace," Louis Philippe forgot that by patronising performances mainly devoted to the glory of the First Empire, he was keeping alive the Napoleonic legend to the detriment of Orleanist prestige. Should you wish

to understand what was passing in the minds of the ardent worshippers of the Emperor, read "Les Misérables," particularly this snippet of conversation between two young men who have just met :

By the way, do you hold any political opinions?—

Of course.

What are you?-Bonapartist, democrat.

And it was at the time this creed was germinating that “ In the Council of Ministers the question was discussed whether the woodcuts representing tumblers, which seasoned Franconi's bills and caused street urchins to crowd round, should be tolerated." But at the time of Fieschi's attempt to kill Louis Philippe on the Boulevard du Temple, by firing twenty-five barrels charged with various missiles, no Napoleonic spectacles were billed at the theatres nearby. At the Cirque-Olympique martial ardour had temporarily run short of inspiration. Under various names, the drama of Napoleon had been performed nearly 400 times. All the fame he had won on earth had been summarised, and his glory had been followed even to the skies in order to reveal the apotheosis of the heroes of France beyond the grave; their horses, taking wings, had flown with them through the air. But now drum-majors became sailors, sacré nom d'une pipe was exchanged for mille sabords, standards gave place to ensigns, the drums that once beat to arms now sounded the swish of water, and the prompter's cabane represented a rock.

"La Traite des Noirs " was a sea-piece, setting forth how the cargo of a wrecked slave-trader turned pirates and successfully waged war against ships manned by Europeans. As this was the first of the naval dramas which were a feature of the CirqueOlympique, the secret of the wild waves should be told. Alexandre Dumas was the inventor of the scheme; when he first brought the Mediterranean upon the boards of the Odéon he admitted a journalist to rehearsals. In consequence, this turbulent ocean was now declared to be nothing more remarkable than a painted canvas covering "tous les gamins du 12 arrondissement." From time to time, the director, by well-directed kicks, stirred what was literally the angry sea. When "Napoléon Bonaparte was again presented, la Mer, cette grande actrice appeared in the fourth This time she was agitated by an equinoctial gale so power

act.

ful that the women aboard the ship enacted a real tragedy. Complaining that the dénouement of this spectacle even upset him a little, the critic of the Monde Dramatique said he seemed always to see the director's redoubtable feet exciting the waves.

When Heine visited the theatres of the Boulevard du Temple, in 1837, he decided that the stage of Franconi's could not be placed in rank with the others as "the pieces given there are more fit for horses than for men." But all the stirring incidents were not acted in the saddle. In "Le soldat de la République,' for instance, inspiration was drawn from Fieschi. While in charge of a post, the corporal found that his men had been drugged; but, by laying all their muskets on a table, he defied the enemy with this new machine infernale. In every performance, however, the clatter of arms and explosion of powder mattered more than dialogue. The company could not be said to consist of actors; they were rather sham soldiers. Thackeray, at this time, described how there was as regular gradation in the ranks of the mimic army at Franconi's as in the real Imperial regions :

After a man has served, with credit, for a certain number of years in the line, he is promoted to be an officer-an acting officer. If he conducts himself well, he may rise to be a Colonel, or a General of Division; if ill, he is degraded to the ranks again; or, worse degradation of all, drafted into a regiment of Cossacks or Austrians. Cossacks is the lowest depth, however; nay, it is said that the men who perform these Cossack parts receive higher wages than the mimic grenadiers and old guard. They will not consent to be beaten every night, even in play; to be pursued in hundreds by a handful of French; to fight against their beloved Emperor. Surely there is fine hearty virtue in this, and pleasant childlike simplicity.

This, by the way, was the year when Louis Napoleon attempted to stir such enthusiasm into an insurrection at Strasburg, and failed.

Was the time of the First Empire, asked Heine, really as beautiful and happy a time as the Bonapartists, great and small, represented? He was thinking of his neighbour, the old grenadier, sitting pensively before his door. "From time to time he begins one of his old Bonapartist songs; but emotion intercepts his voice: his eyes are red, and to all appearances the old fellow has wept." It was because he had been to Franconi's and there seen the battle of Austerlitz.

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"And the Emperor?" Heine asked him. "The Emperor," answered the old soldier," he was exactly the same as when in lifein his grey coat, with his little three-cornered hat, and my heart beat in my breast. Ah, the Emperor ! "

Not only the old Bonapartists, but also the great mass of the people, delighted to cradle themselves in these illusions, and thus the days of the Empire were the poetry of these people. The heroism of the imperial domination was the sole pride of the French, and Napoleon their only hero. If, in one of the little vaudevilles of the Boulevard du Temple, there was a scene of his times, the piece might be detestable but applause would not be lacking. Couplets were spoken which affected the brains of Frenchmen like the blow of a club, and others which acted like an onion on their eyes. They cried, wept and grew excited over such words as Aigle Français, soleil d'Austerlitz, Jena, les Pyramides, la grande armée, l'honneur, la vieille garde, Napoléon . . . or when the man himself, l'homme, made his appearance at the end of the piece, as Deus ex machina. He always had the magic hat on his head, his hands behind his back, and spoke as laconically as possible. Songs were sung of his glory and deplorable end. The music of these Napoleonic refrains was heard everywhere. "It seems," wrote Heine," as though they are floating in the air or sung by birds in the trees."

Thus the passion for the Emperor was fanned by the spectacles of the Boulevard du Temple until Louis Napoleon, in the summer of 1840, again tried to excite a rebellion and again failed. Nevertheless, the flame still burned vigorously. Mimic show gave place to imperial pomp on December 15, when the coffin from St. Helena was brought to the Hôtel des Invalides. All the relatives of the Emperor were absent, for, having been proscribed, they were either in exile or in prison. No further insurrections were attempted and nothing was feared from the continued popularity of the Napoleonic drama. While the public thronged to Franconi's, society patronised the Cirque d'Été, in the Champs Elysées, founded by Antoine Franconi's grandson, Adolphe. At first, performances were given in the open-air, and on mild summer evenings the ring was the favourite resort of all those for whom the opera had no more mysteries; of all the fashionable ladies, "beautiful exiles from the Italian theatre," who were content to watch horses leap while awaiting the return of Lablache,