The Grange advance. [volume] (Red Wing, Minn.) 1873-1877, 1875-10-20

fire, and the piece would not have been
played. I might have advised Barthet
to give up poetry, and he would have
mounted the tribune the year after and
finally became judge. Unfortunately
for him, found his, play little master
piece. and so wrote to Janin, the prince
of critics, and to Rachel the princess Of
the stage. 1t was like a train of gun
powder, the way enthusiasm sprang up
over the piece. Six weeks afterward the
"Sparrow'' was trying it's wings under
the heaven Of the French Comedy, from
which it had been driven not long before
by NM. the French comedians. There
was one dramatic poet the more, but
poet was still school-boy, and one who
never ceased to truant, in literature and
in life. He had only his hour, for care
of the morrow seized him on the very
day of his success. He was dreamer
rather than worker man of fancy
rather than Of study. He had already
hunted Bohemia too long. He would
triAe week over a sculptuesque sonnet.
He said that sonorous rhymes were
brighter than Louis dor. Very pretty.
but you cannot fill your portmcnnaie
with them. In vain his best friends, like
myself, urged him to go with his young
renown; he did not stir. Gossip in cafes.
in theatres, in studios. and beer-shops,
devoured his time. He sketched a
thousand things; and finished nothing,
happy in what he was doing, disguised
with what he had done. He began to
talk of his poverty when was appoint
ed director of the French theatre. al.
ready foresaw his slipwreck. 1t was
loyal heart and a charming talent; l an.
pointed him under secretary with Vereuil.
He assumed gaily the title of under Sec
retary of state. He had hardly any.
thing to do, and what cid he do? The
very next day he hired a secretary. 1t
was Adolphe Gaiffe. He had plenty to
do, for he hirted with all the actresses.
+ Would you believe it! Before long
Ado|phe Gaife hired secretary also.
1t was that poor Detroyes, poet and con-
sumptive, who died in early youth.
What came Of all these secretaries?
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 I had indicated.
soon, therefore, had to content myself
with Vertull alone, without, however,
taking away Barthet' salary. MY dear
friend,'' said to him, ''you are my Sec
rotary, and you can write plays for the
theatre, instead of letters for the direc.
tion.'' But he would not be a secretary
IN Tartibus; he insisted on his shares 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
man who was laughing heartily between
two Lesbias. He ran to the 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
Laughter The project Of police. There
was a great tumult and was sent for.
Luckily, I was acquainted with earlier.
But i: was not the project whom it was
hard to appease, but Barthet himself.
The next morning, to make things end
pleasantly, what does Ba7thet do but
write this pretty note to the project:
II imagined, sir, that I could not do bet
ter than to apply to the project of police.
1t seems that I could not have done
worse
l was forced, to my great regret, to
part with Armand Barthet. But I still
remained his friend, as also did Rachel.
She invited him to her suppers, but in
his quality Of Bohemia, he was rather too
unceremonious. The 8ohemians gener.
ally piqued themselves on not being men
of the world. do not impute this to
them as a crime, but as Barthet did not
wear white cravat to his beer collar. he
ought not to have worn ragged neck
cloth at Mile. Rachels. 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 not
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 Of
mad"ess. One morning while hunting he
met one of his neighbors who had a red
nose. My dear fellow he said. IL for
bid you to present yourself before me
again with that nose. Get yourself a sill.
yer nose or else keep out of my way
The neighbor was enraged. ';See,'' said
Barthet, your nose is crimson. Once
more tell you, won't stand it, The
man with thcrosy nose was furious; so
was Barthet. A challenge passed and
they fought the next day, to the great
merriment of the country, for Barthet
had sworn he would cut of his neighbor: S
nose, but the neighbour instead slit Barth>