The _théâtre françois_, though a very large building, is always full, when the good actors perform. You will be surprised, perhaps, when I add, that I have not found “Molière’s” plays act as well as I expected. I was present a few evenings ago at the representation of “Tartuffe,” and though all the parts were admirably cast, I was heartily tired before the curtain had dropped. I have more than once heard the audience hiss some of his farces, believing them to be modern ones; and to say the truth, they are not on the stage, what they appear in the closet. I cannot determine, whether the change of manners, which has taken place, makes us no longer relish a satire on follies, which exist no more; whether the metre in which these plays are written, fatigues the ear, or that the broad fun which they are intended to produce, is too coarse for modern taste. It may arise indeed, from that taste being vitiated, for Voltaire said, long ago, “Vous parlez de Molière, oh son regne est passé, Le siècle est bien plus fin, notre scène épurée, Du vrai beau qu’on cherchoit est enfin décorée[45].” Without pretending to decide, whether my judgment be bad or good, I can only say, that I have never yet been entertained with the performance of one of Molière’s plays; and if I may judge from the thinness of the house, in some cases, and the unusual noise of it in others, the parisians are of my opinion. Even the “Bourgeois gentilhomme” is obliged to borrow the assistance of a dance: and with this aid, brings but an indifferent audience. To conclude my account of “le théâtre françois,” I ought to say something of their company, and of their accommodations. All the _spectacles_ here lose much of their effect, from the undress, in which it is the fashion to frequent the play houses, excepting on a first representation of a new piece, when the ladies make it a point to appear “en grand costume.” On common occasions, hats or morning caps, shawls and coloured gowns, are the toilet of the ladies; and boots, round hats, and great coats, that of the gentlemen. Wax candles are not used at all; and one solitary lustre of (what we call in England) patent lamps, suffices for the whole building: this throws a dim and melancholy light on the countenances of the audience, and on the appearance of the house in general. Nothing, indeed, can be less lively, than a french theatre. “La gallerie,” which is of course filled with inferiour company, occupies that part of the building, which in England forms the front and side boxes, and the boxes below are behind the gallery. “Les premières” are immediately above these, answering in height to our green boxes; but they are considered as the principal seats, and are accordingly the dearest.