It is to this admirable Emile Got that M. Sarcey's second notice is devoted. Got is at the present hour unquestionably the first actor at the Théâtre Français, and I have personally no hesitation in accepting him as the first of living actors. His younger comrade, Coquelin, has, I think, as much talent and as much art; but the older man Got has the longer and fuller record, and may therefore be spoken of as the master _par excellence_. If I were obliged to rank the half dozen _premiers sujets_ of the last few years at the Théâtre Français in their absolute order of _talent_ (thank Heaven, I am not so obliged!), I think I should make up some such little list as this: Got, Coquelin, Mme. Plessy, Sarah Bernhardt, Mlle. Favart, Delaunay. I confess that I have no sooner written it than I feel as if I ought to amend it, and wonder whether it is not a great folly to put Delaunay after Mlle. Favart. But this is idle. As for Got, he is a singularly interesting actor. I have often wondered whether the best definition of him would not be to say that he is really a _philosophic_ actor. He is an immense humorist, and his comicality is sometimes colossal; but his most striking quality is the one on which M. Sarcey dwells--his sobriety and profundity, his underlying element of manliness and melancholy, the impression he gives you of having a general conception of human life and of seeing the relativity, as one may say, of the character he represents. Of all the comic actors I have seen he is the least trivial--at the same time that for richness of detail his comicality is unsurpassed. His repertory is very large and various, but it may be divided into two equal halves--the parts that belong to reality and the parts that belong to fantasy. There is of course a vast deal of fantasy in his realistic parts and a vast deal of reality in his fantastic ones, but the general division is just; and at times, indeed, the two faces of his talent seem to have little in common. The Duc Job, to which I just now alluded, is one of the things he does most perfectly. The part, which is that of a young man, is a serious and tender one. It is amazing that the actor who plays it should also be able to carry off triumphantly the frantic buffoonery of Maître Pathelin, or should represent the Sganarelle of the "Médecin Malgré Lui" with such an unctuous breadth of humor. The two characters, perhaps, which have given me the liveliest idea of Got's power and fertility are the Maître Pathelin and the M. Poirier, who figures in the title to the comedy which Emile Augier and Jules Sandeau wrote together. M. Poirier, the retired shop-keeper who marries his daughter to a marquis and makes acquaintance with the incommodities incidental to such a piece of luck, is perhaps the actor's most elaborate creation; it is difficult to see how the portrayal of a type and an individual can have a larger sweep and a more minute completeness. The _bonhomme_ Poirier, in Got's hands,