serious history ever to be written—they
appeared upon the stage of the civilised world
as hired "lamenters." These were the
days when inconsolable Roman families hired
mourners to follow their deceased relatives
to the sepulchre with a due amount of sobs
and tears—when red eyes had their price,
dishevelled hair received its stipulated payment,
and torn garments were remunerated by tariff.
It is not quite certain whether, in those days,
the last degree of inconsolable despair might
not have been bought at its due price, and a
frantic mourner purchased, by a pension to his
surviving family, to fling himself into the grave
and be buried, or burned, along with the "dear
departed." That the descent of these modern
mercenary applauders may be traced from these
ancient mercenary lamenters, in a distinct
ancestral line, can admit of little doubt in the
mind of a thoughful archaeologist, when it is
seen that, to this day, the tribe still bears, in
France, the name of "Romans."

Mr. T. Sauvage, in his History of the French
Stage, attributes the origin of the "Claque" to
a certain Chevalier de la Morlière, to whom he
gives the pompous title of "First of the
Claqueurs." But the anecdote in which he relates
how this strange gentleman vagabond, libertine,
and duellist, himself an author, hissed upon the
stage, revenged himself by "damning" the pieces
of other authors, and was finally cajoled by his
enemy Dorat, the dramatist, into applauding
Dorat's pieces, and ensuring them success for a
consideration—however true, proves nothing as
to the origin of the custom.

The "Claqueur," first so called, was at the
commencement of his connexion with the Theatre,
simply a volunteer, ill paid, or paid only by the
recompense of free admission to see the play, in
return for the applause bestowed. He was
usually a friend of the hairdresser, or dressmaker
of the theatre. But the thing throve; and
became a trade. It prospered more and more.
The tribe of "Romans," humble and cautious at
first, the mere supplicating hangers-on of
subordinates, the servants of servants, felt their ground
as they advanced, increased and flourished. The
invading force gradually gained a knowledge of
its power; and the power, once established, was
boldly maintained. From slaves, the "Romans"
rose to be masters—masters of the position,
masters of the stage, masters of the managers,
authors, artists. A guerilla warfare was carried
on for some time with the public. But the
"Romans," whose supremacy was no longer
professionally disputed, held their heads too high
to have their sceptre ravished from them by
such vulgar disaffection as the opposition of
public voices. After some bitter struggles, the
"Romans" triumphed. The field of battle was
their own; and it has remained theirs ever since.
To this day, there are rare occasions when the
public makes a weak show of fight against its old
enemy, the "Claque." But these petty émeutes
are regarded with contempt by "Romans" as
poor revolutionary outbreaks of low conspirators.
The public is crushed by the one
ignominious term "cabale," much after the same
fashion as in early days of English reform, a
recalcitrant Liberal was assailed by Tory tongues
with the conclusive epithets of "Atheist and
Radical."

No parallel can be found to the elevation of
the "Romans" except in the rise of the family
of Rothschild, from the poor hawker Anselm, to
an allied power swaying the destinies of Europe.
What had been a mere peddling trade became
a profession, openly professed. As in the
parallel case, a grander name was to be found.
The designation of "Claqueur," which had long
been coarsely used in vulgar mouths, was
disdained. The "Claqueur" now called himself
an "Entrepreneur de Succès Dramatiques."

Not many years ago, the law reports of the
daily Parisian papers published in detail a
regularly drawn-up document, by which it
appeared that a "success-contractor," as the
plaintiff styled himself, had entered into an
engagement with the manager of one of the first
theatres in Paris to supply him with a certain
quantity of successes, for a certain number of
pieces, in return for stipulated and duly ceded
prerogatives, privileges, and advantages. These
advantages consisted, principally, but by no
means exclusively, of a certain number of tickets
given to him every night, for his own disposal
and profit; of the whole pit upon first
representations; of so many boxes and stalls, and other
little pickings, too numerous to mention. On
his part, the dramatic success-contractor agreed
to provide a certain number of men
"decently dressed " to applaud, and also to be
present himself, in order to direct the when, where,
and how, of the applause to be bestowed—also
to attend all the rehearsals of new pieces, to
arrange with the author the points where the
applause was to be introduced, and finally to
come to the manager's room, when required, to
consult with him as to what actors, and, more
especially, what actresses, were to be particularly
applauded and supported. This extra-
ordinary contract, so degrading to art, honour,
and truth, was looked upon as a strictly legal
document.

The tribe is enrolled in various regiments,
one of which is attached to every theatre in
Paris. Each regiment is commanded by a
chief—a superior officer—a general—not only
in his own esteem, but in occasional parlance.
He calls himself, "Entrepreneur de Succès
Dramatiques en Chef." The vulgar public call
him "Chef de Claque." To his person are
attached inferior officers, as adjutants, who are
regularly employed "upon the staff." In their
various capacities, they all command the great
herd, the common soldiers of the regiment, the
well-drilled privates of—if the ignominious
term must be used—"la claque." Besides the
main body, however, which, with its commanding
officer, takes up its aggressive position in
the pit of the theatre, there are a variety of
allied troops, less recognised by the enemy, the
public, who are disposed about the house as
outstanding pickets. Their titles are as extra-