sentimental prose and of lending too ready an ear to the golden speech of some tavern demagogue, who has now had enough of politics and who scarcely troubles to think what former retailer of treasonable language, what Gracchus of the sidewalk may be minister, Vaudrey or Pichereau, or even Granet: all these types are separately analyzed and vigorously generalized. Monsieur Claretie designated no one in particular but we elbow the characters in his book every day of our lives. He has, moreover, written a book of a robust and healthy novelty. The picture of the greenroom of the Ballet with which the tale opens and where we are introduced in the most natural way possible to nearly all the characters that play a part in the story of Vaudrey is masterly in execution and intention. It is Balzac, but Balzac toned down and more limpid."
I will stop here at the greenroom of the Ballet commended by Monsieur J.-J. Weiss, to give a slight sketch, clever as a drawing by Saint' Aubin or a lithograph by Gavarni, which Monsieur Ludovic Halévy has contributed to a journal and in which he also praises the romance that the feuilletoniste of the Débats has criticized with an authority so discriminating and a benevolence so profound.
It was very agreeable for me to observe that such a thorough Parisian as the shrewd and witty author of Les Petites Cardinal should find that the Opéra--which certainly plays a r?le in our politics--had been sufficiently well portrayed by the author of Monsieur le Ministre. And upon this, the first chapter of my book, Monsieur Ludovic Halévy adds, moreover, some special and piquant details which are well worth quoting:
"That which gave me very great pleasure in this tale of a man of politics is that politics really have little, very little place in the novel; it is love that dominates it and in the most despotic and pleasant way possible. This great man of Grenoble who arrives at Paris in order to reform everything, repair everything, elevate everything, falls at once under the sway of a most charming Parisian adventuress. See Sulpice Vaudrey the slave of Marianne. Marianne's gray eyes never leave him--But she in her turn meets her master--and Marianne's master is Adolphe Gochard, a horrid Parisian blackguard--who is so much her master that, after all, the real hero of the romance is Adolphe Gochard. Such is the secret philosophy of this brilliant and ingenious romance.
"I have, however, a little quarrel on my own account with Monsieur Jules Claretie. Nothing can be more brilliantly original than the introductory chapter of Monsieur le Ministre. Sulpice Vaudrey makes his first appearance behind the scenes of the Opéra, and from the sides of the stage, in the stage boxes, opera-glasses are turned upon him, and he hears whispered:
"'It is the new Minister of the Interior.'
"'Nonsense! Monsieur Vaudrey?'
"'Yes, Monsieur Vaudrey--'
"In short, the appearance of his Excellency creates a sensation, and it is against this statement that I protest. I go frequently to the Opéra, very frequently. During the last ten years I have seen defile before me in the wings, at least fifty Ministers of State, all just freshly ground out. Curiosity had brought them there and the desire to see the dancers at close quarters, and also the vague hope that by exhibiting themselves there in all their glory, they would create a sensation in this little world.
"Well, this hope of theirs was never realized. Nobody took the trouble to look at them. A minister nowadays is nobody of importance. Formerly to rise to such a position, to take in hand the reins of one of the great departments, it was necessary to have a certain exterior, a certain prominence, something of a past--to be a Monsieur Thiers, Monsieur Guizot, Monsieur Mole, Monsieur de Rémusat, Monsieur Villemain, Monsieur Duchátel, Monsieur de Falloux or Monsieur de Broglie--that is to say, an orator, an author, a historian, somebody in fact. But nowadays, all that is necessary to be a minister is the votes of certain little combinations of groups and subsidiary groups, who all expect a share of the spoils. Therefore we are ruled by certain personages illustrious perhaps at Gap or at Montélimar but who are quite unknown in the genealogical records of the Boulevard Haussmann. Why should you imagine that public attention would be attracted by news like this:
"'Look!--There is Monsieur X, or Monsieur Y, or Monsieur Z.'
"One person only during these last years ever succeeded in attracting the attention of the songstresses and ballet-girls of the Opéra. And that was Gambetta. Ah! when he came to claim Monsieur Vaucorbeil's hospitality, it was useless to crouch behind the cherry-colored silk curtains of the manager's box, many glances were directed toward him, and many prowling curiosities were awakened in the vicinity of
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