The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1875-10-22

myself, urged him to 60 with his young
renown; he did not stir. Gossip in cafes,
in theatres, in studios. and beer.shops,
devoured his tine. He sketched q
thousand things; and finished nothing,
happy in what he was doing, disguised
with what he had done. He began to
talk Of his pove, ty when I was appoint.
cd director of the French theatre. al
ready foresaw his slipwreck. It was a
loyal heart and charming talent; I ap.
pointed him under secretary with Vereuil.
He assumed gaily the title of under Sec
rotary of state. He had hardly any.
thing to do, and what Gid he do? The
very next day he hired secretary. 1t
was Adolphe Gaiffe. He had plenty to
do, for he firted with all the actresses.
Would you believe it? Before long
Adolphe Gaiffc hired secretary also.
It was that poor Detroyes, poet and con.
sumptiva, who died in early youth.
What came Of all these secrctariesl
would tell Barthet in the morning to
write to some parsonage. He passed the
order to Gaiffe, who passed it on to De.
troyes. who prepared the letter in sense
exactly contrary to what had indicated.
I soon, therefore, had to content myself
with Vertu,l alone, without, however,
taking away Barthet's salary. "My dear
FRIEND" I said to him, ''you are M sec.
rotary, and you can write plays for the
theatre, instead of letters for the direc'
tion." But he would not be 4 secretary
IN rartibus he insisted on his share in
the direction. He disarranged every.
thing in his zeal. Here is an instance,
One evening, when Rachel was playing
his sparrow" he saw in the boxes a
man who was laughing heartily between
two Lesbias. He ran to ths box and
opened it with authority. He spoke to
the Laughter, who laughed in his face,
Upon which the pugnacious poet took him
by the collar and walked him into the
corridor. Who do you suppose was the
laugher! The project Of police. There
was q great tumult and was sent for
Luckily, was acquainted with Cartier
But il was not the project whom it wa:
hard to appease, but Barthet himself.
The next morning, to make things enc
pleasantly, what does Ba:thet do bu'
write this Pretty note to the project
81 imagined, sir, that could not do bet
ter than to apply to the project Of police
1t seems that l could not have done
worse"
l was forced, to my great regret, tt
part with Armand Barthet. But still
remained his friend, as also did Rachel
She invited him to her suppers, but ir
his quality of Bohemia, he was rather too
unceremonious. The Bohemians gener
ally piqued themselves on not being mcr
of the world. do not impute this te
them as a crime, but as Barthet did mol
wear q white cravat to his beer collar, he
ought not to have worn o ragged neck
cloth at Mile. Rachel's. Some regard
should be paid TO custom, even in the re-
public of letters.
He got married to wife who made him
in love with marriage. But the money
question was always there. He did no,
come to absolute poverty, but he was
desperate at his inability to make for
tune for his wife, while he was gradually
losing his own literary capital.
He was aggressive even to his last days
Of reason, not to speak Of his days o
mad, ess. One morning while hunting HI
met one of his neighbors who had rec
nose. MY dear fellow" he said, Il for
bid you to present yourself before INT
again with that nose. Get yourself a sill
YER nose or else keep out Of my way.'
The neighbor was cnraged. 'Sec,' sale
Barthet, ''your nose is crimson. Onc'
more l tell you, won't stand it," Thu
man with the rosy nose was furious; Sc
was Barthet. A challenge passed ant
they fought the next day, to the grca
merriment of tae country, for Barthe
had sworn he would cut off his nei ghbor'!
nose, but the neighbor instead slit Barth
cts ear.
Mr.. Prudihomme will not fall to say
that ,Barthet must have been Difficult
man to &C. on with. But, apart from
these fantastic gusts Of temper, he wa
not only the best Of friends, but he woult
have thrown himself into the sea for thu
first conner. He was great heart, bu
a bad temper. There was more than ont
point of resemblance between him ant
Clesinger, the great sculptor and ex.cuir
assier, who was always cuirassicr in .
salon. One day in cafe the sculptor
was denouncing minister who did not
give him million year in orders, and
brought his fist violently down OIL thu
table. The master of the establishment
came to him, representing in the most
differential manner that he might "break
the MARBLE" ''Marble,' said C1esinger
that is my business. I am the soul pto1
Clesinger." Here he slapped his neigh
boris table. His neighbor was NJ. de-
Champagne, famous blade. 'Afon
sieur," he said, II do not like noise ex
cept sword in hand" Every we'll" said
Clesinger, Eve will try that was q
second at that singular duel.
Barthet was buried at Ivy. He has
not a single friend in that cemetery Of
nameless clods. There were four of US al
his funeral. The friends of Armand Bar
tibet owe him monument-not marble
gravestone, but volume containing his
portrait. his Moi'aeou de Lesbie, his
stories and his poems. 1t will be q
charming book
Yet, if "Lesbia's Sparrow had never
been played, this young lawyer of l847
might have been to-day a counselor oil
state and member of the assembly.
Why did write to Janin and to Rachel?
| could not forgive myself for cncour-
aging. the poet in the lawyer, except by
remembering the ancient maxim, thatlno
one can escape his destiny.