[40] It is but fair to add that Mr. Conway was suffering from the approach of a serious illness, which declared itself shortly after. [41] I recall a Sunday morning during this visit, when a message arrived from the manager asking me to join a festive party to Dorking, to which he had invited some members of the French comedy. At the Garrick Club, the favourite coach, “Old Times,” was waiting, and presently it was “Buzz!—here come the players.” A delightful drive it was, and a truly enjoyable day. There was Mounet Sully, the fervent stage lover—then, it was whispered, the prey of a hopeless attachment to the gifted “Sarah”—the _spirituel_ Delaunay, still a _jeune premier_ in spite of his years; with two or three others of the _corps_. Of the party were also my friend Mr. Walter Pollock, with his genial, well-cultured father, the late Sir Frederick; Campbell Clarke, French correspondent to the _Daily Telegraph_, and some other _littérateurs_. There was the drive down to the inviting little town, with a lunch at the old inn, some wanderings about its leafy lanes, and a return in the evening to the club, where the host gave a banquet, at which speeches in French and English were delivered. The interesting strangers took away with them the lasting impression that he was “truly a sympathetic personage, with a great deal of French grace and _bonhomie_ in his nature.” [42] This also seemed rather unintelligible to the audience; but its secret was the secret of the creator or originator of the part. Such devices are really significant of something dramatic that has actually prompted them; they become an expression. The revived “business,” therefore, will not serve unless the original spirit attends it. This squeaking snuff-box was a note of _diablerie_, introduced with strange sudden spasms at unexpected moments, and corresponded to the twitches and spasms of Macaire’s mind. For the manager I collected much of old Lemaître’s business, with those curious chants with which the robber carried off his villainies. Jingle and Job Trotter were certainly modelled on Macaire and his man; for the piece was being played as _Pickwick_ came out. [43] We may at least admire this writer’s perseverance and intrepidity, who from that time has never relaxed his efforts to win the approbation or secure the attention of the public. One could have wished him better success with his later venture and most ambitious attempt, the management of the Avenue Theatre, where he introduced his own piece illustrative of “modern English Life,” with which his critics—for whom, like the sapper, nothing is sacred—made merry. He is not likely to be daunted by this, and I have little doubt he will “arrive” at last. [44] The quaint name of this club, “the Kerneuzers,” was suggested by a simple attendant, who actually so described the members; it was his pronunciation of the word “connoisseurs.”