It has been already said, that as long as Clairon exercised the power, when she advanced to the footlights, to make the (then standing) pit recoil several feet, by the mere magic of her eyes, the pit, who enjoyed the terror as a luxury, flung crowns to her, and wept at the thought of losing her; but Clairon infirm was Clairon forgotten, and to a decaying actor or actress a French audience is the most merciless in the world.

The brightest and best of them, as with us, died in the service of the public.

Monfleury, Mondory, and Bricourt died of apoplexy, brought on by excess of zeal.

Moliere, who fell in harness, was buried with less ceremony than some favourite dog.

The charming Lecouvreur, that Oldfield of the French stage, whose beauty and intellect were the double charm which rendered theatrical France ecstatic, was hurriedly interred within a saw-pit.