the enterprise. On his part Ramponneau
agreed to appear and play at the hours fixed
upon, and a forfeit of a thousand livres
bound each to the contract. If Ramponneau
had possessed the genius of Robson
he could scarcely have made better terms;
and Gaudon felt so sure of the great
card he held in his hand, that instead of
waiting for the opening week's success, he
paid the first two hundred livres down, and
Ramponneau laid out the money in a
magnificent comic wardrobe, with no end of
figured waistcoats and red-tailed wigs. As
a little time would intervene before his
début on the Boulevard of the Temple,
Ramponneau decided on making an experimental
rehearsal in public; for that purpose,
accompanied by a citizen friend, named Haget,
who swore by the aubergiste, he set off
for Versailles, and close to the very palace-
gates came forward to seek the applause he
fully reckoned on. But never was man more
deceived. As a tavern-keeper his sallies
made people laugh; as a comic actor he was
voted execrable; he was hissed, hooted, all
but pelted off the boards; and, shaking the
dust of Versailles off his feet, made the
best of his way back to Paris. Everything
was in readiness for his appearance; but
a single night intervened, and during that
night Ramponneau took counsel with himself
as to his future proceedings. It seems almost
incredible that an amateur actor, and a
Frenchman to boot, should have entertained
any misgiving as to his success; but such
appears to have been the case with our
would-be comedian, and he took his resolution
accordingly. On the following morning
Master Gaudon received a letter from the
Sieur Ramponneau. It was delivered to
him by a solemn notary attired in
professional black. Gaudon fancied at first that
some exquisite joke was intended by his
facetious friend; but when he had read
Ramponneau's letter, he found there was
nothing to laugh at. The comic aubergiste
declined to fulfil his engagement; it was
against his conscience to do so; he dreaded
the censures which the Church visited upon
comedians and all that class of people, and
had resolved to renounce a profession, the
exercise of which imperilled his hopes of
salvation,—-with a great deal more of the
same kind, all formally drawn out by the
pale-faced notary in a formal " acte de
desistement," in which, however, no mention
was made of returning the two hundred
livres, which Ramponneau had pocketed.
But it was not altogether the fear of failure
that had led to this rupture of the tavern-
keeper's contract. He had had an eye to his
interest in the matter, having privately sold
the goodwill of his guingette to a man
named Martin, for an annuity of fifteen
hundred livres, this condition being attached
to the sale—-that Ramponneau should remain
for a time in the exercise of his usual
(comic) function, in order to keep up the
attraction of the place. Master Gaudon, of
course, was furious, when this intimation
reached him, and a lawsuit was the
immediate consequence. Besides, the lawyers on
either side, a third party took up the quarrel.
This individual was Voltaire, to whom the
whole affair appeared full of fun, and he
covered it accordingly with ridicule, in a
small pamphlet in which he ironically
defended Ramponneau, and gave several of his
friends, Jean Jaques among the rest, some
of his hardest hits. The trial which,
according to Grimon, was the great event of
the year, ended simply in a decree to the
effect that Ramponneau should pay back the
money he had received from Gaudon, and he
returned to his cabaret with a vast accession
of popularity.

That Ramponneau's celebrity has not been
exaggerated, may be inferred from the fact that
one of the barriers near Belleville still bears
his name, though that of La Courtille is more
popularly applied to it. In our own day,—-
and it may even still exist—-" La descente de
la Courtille " was the place for strangers to
visit, who were in search of low life in Paris:
the night of Shrove Tuesday being kept up
there as the great holiday of the year. In
Ramponneau's time, the guingettes of La
Villette and Les Porcherons, along the same
line of barriers, were as celebrated as his
own, and have also been immortalised in
verse,—-the Hudibrastic verse of the poet
Vadé. At the barrier of La Rapée, situated
on the right bank of the Seine above the
Bridge of Austerlitz, was a tavern of a more
aristocratic description than any of those
last mentioned, and in connection with it is
told the following story:

The Duke de la Vauguyon, French
ambassador in Holland in the time of Louis XV.,
while living at the Hague had a fancy one
day to go with a party to Schevening to eat
"watervisch," the equivalent to our " white-
bait," though not to be confounded with it.
Having fixed the day, engaged a room, and
ordered an ample supply of the famous
ragoût, M. de le Vauguyon sent his cook and
other servants to prepare the rest of the
dinner, so that the tavern-keeper at Schevening
had only to supply the fish and get
ready the place in which it was to be eaten.
The party dined, and no doubt dined well,
and the Duke's steward called for the bill.
The " mauvais quart d'heure " of Rabelais
(the disagreable moment for paying) was
never more fully realised: the innkeeper
handed in an account of fifteen hundred
florins (one hundred and twenty pounds).
The steward was at his wit's end and showed
it to his master, who flew into a furious
passion at the exorbitance of the amount.
The host was sent for, but in reply to the
Duke's remonstrances the phlegmatic Dutchman
merely said, " That was his charge!"
M. de la Vauguyon immediately despatched