languor, or the indifference of an audience; yet the general effect of the representation would suffer much if all applause, including that of a premeditated and, indeed, purchased kind, were entirely withheld; the timid would remain timid, talent would remain unrecognised, and, therefore, almost unrevealed, if no cheering were heard to reassure, to encourage, to kindle, and excite.  The suggestion that the public would supply genuine applause if only the claqueurs were less liberal with the spurious article, Dr. Veron rather evades than discusses.

The chief of the claqueurs in Dr. Veron’s time was a certain M. Auguste, of Herculean form and imposing address, well suited in every respect for the important post he filled.  He was inclined to costume of very decisive colours—­to coats of bright green or reddish-brown—­presumably that, like a general officer, his forces might perceive his presence in their midst by the peculiarity, if not the brilliance, of his method of dress.  Auguste was without education—­did not know a note of music; but he understood the audience of the Opera House.  For long years he had attended every representation upon its stage, and experience had made him a most skilful tactician.  Auguste enjoyed the complete confidence of Dr. Veron. Claqueur and manager attended together the rehearsals of every new work, and upon the eve of its first performance held a cabinet council upon the subject.  They reviewed the whole production from the first line to the last.  “I did not press upon him my opinions,” says Dr. Veron; “I listened to his; he appraised, he judged all, both dance and song, according to his own personal impressions.”  The manager was surprised at the justice of the claqueur’s criticism by anticipation—­at his ingenious plans for apportioning and graduating the applause.  It was Auguste’s principle of action to begin modestly and discreetly, especially at the opera, dealing with a choice and critical public; to approve a first act but moderately, reserving all salvoes of applause for the last act and the denoument of the performance.  Thus, in the last act he would bestow three rounds of applause upon a song, to which, had it occurred in the first act, he would have given but one.  He held that towards the middle of a performance success should be quietly fostered, but never forced.  For the claqueurs of other theatres Auguste entertained a sort of disdain.  It was, as he averred, the easiest thing in the world to obtain success at the Opera Comique, or the Vaudeville.  The thing was managed there not so much by applause as by laughter.  There was the less need for careful management; the less risk of vexing the public by injudicious approbation.  No one could take offence at a man for laughing immoderately; he was not chargeable with disingenuousness, as in the case of one applauding to excess.  Occasionally cries were raised of “A la porte les claqueurs;” but