MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 BT 
 
 MADAME DE B- 
 
 J \ jt I 
 
 I • 
 
 I ' > 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 FRANKLIN SQUARE. 
 
 1858.
 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In order to form a correct judgment on celebrated 
 persons, "we should have a previous knowledge of the 
 sphere in which they moved, of the circumstances in 
 which they were placed, of the epoch at which their 
 star arose. 
 
 Among those whose names the many-tongued dame 
 has borne to the remotest corners of the civilized world, 
 none have exemplified more forcibly than Rachel the 
 truth of the Spanish adage which accords the palm not 
 to the most deserving, but to him who arrives in time. 
 Be this not understood, however, as a disparagement of 
 the, merit of the justly celebrated daughter of Israel. 
 But, without in the least intending to detract from talent 
 so universally acknowledged, it must be allowed that in 
 her case Fortune came most opportunely to the aid of 
 Genius, and that every event, from the commencement 
 to the close of her career, justified to the utmost her 
 surname of Felix. 
 
 Genius, even when seconded by persevering will, is 
 not sufficient to conquer the heights Ambition would 
 scale ; it needs the concurrence of auspicious circum- 
 stances; and Chance, though aptly called the God of fools, 
 has drawn from stagnant obscurity Napoleons, Shak- 
 speares, and Newtons, who else had ignobly lived and 
 ingloriously died. 
 
 The moment when Rachel came forward was that of 
 a crisis. The public was weary of the clamors of the 
 partisans of the old school and of those of the new. The 
 question which had kindled so fierce a war between the 
 
 A
 
 11 PKEFACE. 
 
 Classicists and tlie Komaiiticists was about to be decided 
 in favor of the latter. Tragedy was at its last gasp ; the 
 theatre, so long the admired and envied model of all 
 Europe, was tottering to its foundations under the load 
 of debt which the indifference and neglect of a fickle 
 public had allowed to accumulate upon it. The few 
 actors of any talent who still hngered about the forsaken 
 temple vainly sought to resist the torrent that bore them 
 into the ranks of the exultant Eomanticists ; compelled 
 to worship the false gods, they reluctantly apostatized 
 from the creed of which they had once been the worthy 
 champions. Nor should the impartial chronicler too 
 hastily condemn these recreants; the performance of 
 tragedies had become impossible from the lack of com- 
 petent tragic actresses; the debutantes half converted to 
 the new dogmas were no longer animated by the sacred 
 fire ; no extent of good- will could compensate the want 
 of genius, of talent, of spirit ; each new candidate for the 
 scenic palm was the exact counterpart of her predecessor, 
 reproducing before a wearied and disgusted public the 
 same faulty style, the same ranting, whining, monoto- 
 nous declamation ; name succeeded name, and, passing- 
 unnoticed before a Parisian audience, sank, one after the 
 other, into the same Lethean obscurity, the provinces 
 entombing each at the close of her short and epitaphless 
 career. 
 
 Alas ! the abomination of desolation had fallen on the 
 sanctuary. Imperious, despotic Romanticism had pro- 
 nounced its quos ego, and the master-pieces of the French 
 stage awaited in dust and forgetfulness an improbable 
 resurrection. The announcement of " Cinna," " Andro- 
 maque," and "Merope" sufficed to transform the once- 
 crowded house into a desert, and exhausted instead of 
 replenishmg the treasury. 
 
 With Talma, with Mademoiselle Duchesnois, true 
 French tragedy had ended. We do not speak of Mad- 
 emoiselle Georges, for she had forsaken her ethereal
 
 PREFACE. Ill 
 
 mistress for one of the earth earthy : Marion Delorme 
 could not be expected to become the chaste and heroic 
 Pauline, nor could La Tishe exchange the fanciful garb 
 of the Venetian courtesan to assume with the Koman 
 robes the Eoman feelings of a Junia. 
 
 The Drama was triumphant; the Tragic Muse, still 
 beautiful in her solitude and sadness, her rent and worn 
 mantle ill concealing her poverty, her crown shivered, 
 her proud throne mocked and defaced, her tears unseen, 
 her sighs unheeded, in forsaken, still imperial majesty, 
 the Great Eelic of a Great Past, was preparing to flee 
 forever from the ingrate land that now worshiped a 
 usurper, when the hand of a child arrested her flight, 
 and, for a brief space, restored her empire. 
 
 Three fourths of the following pages were written 
 during the life of the celebrated woman whose career 
 constitutes their subject. As the work drew to a close, 
 the tomb opened to receive her who for eighteen years 
 had been the pride of the French stage. But the event 
 that has cast so deep a gloom over the prospects of clas- 
 sic art, depriving it of its sole support, can make no dif- 
 ference in a work in which neither posthumous flattery 
 nor detraction find a place. Even the truth due to the 
 dead should be spoken within certain limits. When 
 the faults and errors of one who attained so high a rank 
 as an artiste are trumpeted by the tongue of mahce, or 
 hinted at by the conscientious biographer, the reader 
 must bear in mind the sphere in which she was born 
 and passed her early youth, the intoxicating influence 
 of unexpected fame and opulence, the bewildering effect 
 of the sudden transition from the societ}^ of the low, the 
 ignorant, and vulgar, to that of the most high-bred, ed- 
 ucated, and aristocratic of the land, the satiety and wea- 
 riness that the prompt fulfillment of every wash soon 
 brought with it, the nervously irritable and constitution- 
 ally frail organization of the being who was constantly 
 called upon to personify the most violent and wearing
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 passions ; let us not then wonder that her aspirations to- 
 ward the good and the beautiful were often followed by- 
 no results, that the creature so richly endowed by prod- 
 igal Nature, so powerfully sustained by Fortune, should 
 not have been uniformly great, and that blemishes should 
 have darkened her finest traits. 
 
 Yet, with all her imperfections, it will be long ere the 
 world shall see another Rachel, the stage another trage- 
 dienne uniting her genius, her intuitive conception of the 
 sublime and the beautiful, her extraordinary power of 
 expressing what she so perfectly conceived, her grand 
 pagan qualities, her Greek, statue-like figure, her majes- 
 ty of brow and attitude, her quiet dignity of manner. 
 The lovers of art have sustained an irreparable loss, and 
 mournfully exclaim, 
 
 " There's a great spirit gone !" 
 
 We have followed Eachel more especially in her pro- 
 fessional career, without, however, omitting the more 
 arduous task of speaking of her as the woman in her so- 
 cial sphere : a delicate subject at all times, since it neces- 
 sitates the invasion of the sanctuary of private life, re- 
 vealing its mysteries to a prying public, but more espe- 
 cially so in the present case. 
 
 "We have endeavored to fulfill this task so far as it 
 was consistent with the duty of biography to record the 
 words and actions of its subject. But there are grounds 
 it is not our province to touch upon — grounds that are 
 beyond the hmits of even the morbid curiosity that ea- 
 gerly seeks in every great work that issues from the Di- 
 vine Hand the contaminating touch of the spirit of evil 
 — grounds where the truth is too obscure to be distin- 
 guished from fiction, and where, even if known, it would 
 afford no better clew to character, would convey no les- 
 son, prevent no fall. 
 
 If, then, those who delight in the indiscriminate reve- 
 lations of the foibles of poor human nature take up this 
 book in the hope of meeting with a detailed account of
 
 PREFACE. \ 
 
 the liaisons attributed to the great tragedienne^ we warn 
 them that nothing so piquant seasons its matter-of-fact 
 pages. "Whatever could convey an idea of her character, 
 temper, and inchnations, all that had any connection 
 with her dramatic talent, we were bound to record ; far- 
 ther, we had nothing to add from the garrulous chronique 
 scandaleuse of the day. 
 
 K tragedy did not die when disease laid so fatal a 
 grasp on her last interpreter, at least she sank into so 
 lethargic a sleep that the strenuous efforts made to arouse 
 her have only proved their own futihty and justified 
 the triumphant pens of her adversaries. She who could 
 revive the life, the soul, is herself gone forever. Well 
 may we deplore the loss of the priestess who alone could 
 rekindle the extinct flame, and exclaim, 
 
 " Si Pergama dextra 
 Defend! possent, etiam hac defensa fiussent."
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Parentage. — Abraham Felix and Esther Ilaya. — Characteristics of the 
 Father reflected in the Daughter. — Nomade Life. — Birth-place, 
 early Childhood, and Pursuits Page 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 1830-1837. 
 Paris. — A lucky Meeting. — Mr. Choron. — The Cours St. Aulaire. — 
 Rachel at Thirteen. — Narrative of Salema. — An old Umbrella for 
 Racine. — "Le Legataire Universel." — Precocious Actress. — The 
 Conservatoire. — Conflicting Opinions. — A Judge at Fault. — Unfa- 
 vorable Prognostics. — "Sell Bouquets, girl, sell Bouquets." — An 
 important Role. — A great Step in Life 17 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 1837. 
 The Gymnase. — La Vendeenne. — The first Criticism. — Jides Janin. 
 — Bouffe. — An odd little Thing. — Jewish Esprit de Corps. — Rachel 
 and Sanson 25 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 1838 and 1839. 
 The Theatre Frangais. — Three Months of negative Success. — "Ca- 
 niille." — "Hermione." — "Emilie." — An unknown Admirer. — Doc- 
 tor Veron. — Appearance of Rachel at that Time. — The Prince of Crit- 
 ics. — A less enthusiastic Admirer. — Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, 
 Titus, and Berenice, in brocade, flowing wigs, and small swords ... 32 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 1838-1839. 
 Enthusiasm of the Public. — Louis Philip])e and Rachel. — Royal Munifi- 
 cence in past and present Times. — An Increase of Salary. — System 
 of Starring and its ill Effects. — Monime. — Behind the Curtains ; La 
 Rue Traversiere. — A Step upward in private Life. — Peace broken 
 between the Socictaires and the Pet of the Public. — Bajazet ; a crit- 
 ical Moment. — Reminiscences of Mademoiselle Mars. — Artistic Mag- 
 nanimity and Vanity 37
 
 VIU CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. ^ 
 1839. 
 A Step higher in private Life. — The maimed Student and a Scene in 
 " Les Horaces." — The Friendship of the Great. — L'Abbaye aux 
 Bois. — Madame Recamier. — The Jewish Actress and a Dignitary 
 of the Church. — A Stranger to Venus. — Rachel in Comedy. — 
 "Esther" Page 49 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 1840. 
 Artistic Career. — First Period one of constant Struggle and arduous 
 Toil. — Eminent Critics of the Day. — Granier de Cassagnac. — Jules 
 Janin. — Theophile Gauthier. — Edouard Thierry. — The Public be- 
 comes exacting. — Incident at a Soiree. — Rachel at Eighteen. — Tax- 
 ed with want of real Feeling. — Tact. — Manners. — Delicate Health. 
 —Solicitude of the Public 57 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 1840. 
 Alarming Incident. — Three Plays revived this Year: "Nicomede," 
 "Polyeucte," and "Marie Stuart." — Benefit of Mademoiselle The- 
 nard at Versailles. — Why Racine is generally preferred to Corneille. 
 — Mademoiselle Rachel as Pauline. — Commences her Tour through 
 the Provinces. — Debut at Rouen. — Letter to the Manager. — The 
 Medallion of "my second Father." — Success at Lyons, &c., &c. — 
 Reappearance at the Theatre Fran9ais. — Indifference of the Public 
 for the classical Drama. — Artistic Selfishness 67 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 1841. 
 Engagement for one Year signed with the Theatre rran9ais. — Father 
 ■and Teacher. — Debuts in England. — Victoria to Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel. — Andromaque mistaken for Hermione. — Rachel at Windsor. — 
 Return to Paris. — Increasing Splendors. — Rachel a thorough Cos- 
 mopolitan. — A Rival ! — Contest for the scenic Sceptre : " Marie Stu- 
 art." — Rachel and Elizabeth. — Maxime. — Phedre keeping furnished 
 Lodgings and a Table d'hote 78 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 1842. 
 The "Cid."— The Chimene of the French Stage; the Ximena of an- 
 cient Spain and the Creation of Mademoiselle Rachel. — " Ariane." 
 — La Champmesle. — Mademoiselle Clairon. — Return to London. — 
 Disappointment. — Success in Belgium. — 30,000 Francs in eleven 
 Nights. — Corneille's Anniversary a Failure. — Return to Paris. — 
 "Fredegonde" 89
 
 CONTENTS. IX 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 18-13. 
 First Step in Life as a Free Woman. — A Portrait au moral et au phys- 
 ique. — Corroboratory Anecdotes. — Mademoiselle Aveuel. — The Cash- 
 box. — The Fascination of Gold on different Minds. — Making Collec- 
 tions. — Expensive Fancies. — The Guitar Page 101 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 1843. 
 The Drama behind the Mask 117 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 1843. 
 Phedre: a first Attempt. — "Judith." — An unexpected Debutante. — 
 Southern Enthusiasm. — A Deed of Charity. — Debuts of Raphael and 
 Rebecca Felix in the "Cid" 122 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 1844. 
 "Berenice."— "Don Sanche d'Aragon."—" Catharine II." 130 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 1845. 
 Reconciliation with the Public— Classicists and Romanticists. — "Vir- 
 ginie."— "Oreste" 137 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 1846. 
 "Jeanne d'Arc."— Rachel in Holland.— The Theatre Fran9ais a Land 
 of Promise. — Dissensions with the Management. — A Soul of Fire in 
 an Envelope of Gauze. — Mademoiselle Clairon and the Duke of 
 Choiseul. — Rumored Conversion. — Cheap Proselytism. — Amenaide 
 without a Tancredc. — Death of Mademoiselle Mars. — Retirement of 
 Joannj and Mademoiselle Georges 148 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 1847. 
 "L'Ombre de Moli^re."— "Le Vieux de la Montagne."— " Athalie." 
 — "Celimfene."— "Cleopatre" 156 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 1848. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel and Mademoiselle Georges. — "Cleopatre and 
 
 Rodogune." — Influence of Revolutions on Actors. — Talma and Lais. 
 
 —Influence of the Revolution of 1848 on dramatic Literature and 
 
 Theatricals — Old Things new named. — M. de Lamartine's Rejection 
 
 A2
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 of the Eed Flag. — Suggestions of a Workman on Theatricals. — Beran- 
 ger on the Revolution. — A political Tragedienne. — "La Marseillaise." 
 — Le Peuple of Mademoiselle Rachel in IS-t-t and in 18-18.. Page 171 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 1848. 
 Decree of the Citizen Minister Ledru Rollin. — "Lucrece." — Nemesis 
 ■^"earing the Insignia of a Commissaire de Police. — Grand National 
 Performance. — The Blouse triumphant. — "Les .Horaces." — "Le 
 Malade Imaginaire." — "La Marseillaise." — Bouquet Monsti'e. — A 
 Sovereign more despotic than the last. — Second grand national Per- 
 formance. — Honorable Testimonial to Mademoiselle Rachel. — En- 
 thusiasm at a low Ebb. — Grand Fetes and no Bread. — Theatricals 
 under Louis Philippe and under the Provisional Government. — 
 Death of Vemet. — Mademoiselle Rachel in two Characters of the 
 same Play 183 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 1848. 
 Three Months in the South of France. — Rachel a licensed Propagan- 
 dist. — Visit to jiauame Lafarge. — A public Confession. — A hard- 
 hearted Father. — Return to Paris. — Sketch of the Organization of 
 the Theatre Franc^ais. — The Priestess turns her back on the Temple. 
 — A Visit of the Faculty. — An uncourteous Public 195 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 1849. 
 A spoiled Child. — Proscription of "Cinna." — "Le Moineau de Les- 
 Lie." — The real Adrienne Lccouvreur. — Funeral Honors to theat- 
 rical Talent in France and in England in 1730. — The Adrienne Le- 
 couvreur of Messrs. Scribe and Legouve. — A characteristic Let- 
 ter 204 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 1849. 
 Benefit of Mademoiselle Georges. — The Thespian Car in 1650 and in 
 1849. — Phedre without Aricie. — An Audience behind the Age. — A 
 Tune to suit all Governments. — Life in a Stage-coach. — A promised 
 Conversion. — A Play without an Audience. — The Theatre Fran9ais 
 verstis Mademoiselle Rachel. — Mademoiselle Rachel condemned to sing 
 the "Marseillaise" 218 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 1850. 
 Resume. — "Mademoiselle de Belle-Isle." — "Angelo." — "Horace et 
 Lydie." — Conge of four Months spent almost entirely in Gerrhany. — 
 The peasant Aunt. — Mother and Daughter 230
 
 CONTENTS. XI 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 1851. 
 
 State of Theatricals in 1851. — Despoticlnfluence of Stars and its bane- 
 ful Results. — Dramatic Authors manufacturers to order. — "Valeria." 
 — Conge of five Months and a half. — Italy. — Successor of Saint Peter 
 and the Children of Israel. — Rebecca Page 239 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 1852, 
 
 "Diane." — "Louise de Lignerollcs." — Invitation from the King of 
 Prussia. — Severe Illness. — Homoeopathic Doctor. — Appearance at 
 the new Palace of Potsdam. — Presentation to the Empress of Russia. 
 — The Czar Nicholas and Mademoiselle Rachel. — Return to Paris. — 
 Prolongation of Life. — " Aspasie." — "Rosemonde" 249 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 1853. 
 
 "Lady TartufFc." — Short summer Excursion. — An obliging Manager. ' 
 — Engagement in Russia. — Permission of the Emperor, the Minister 
 of State, and the Comedie Fran^ais countersigned by M. Legouve. — 
 A diplomatic Letter. — The Author and the Actress. — Friendly Cor- 
 respondence. — "Medee" asked for; "Medee" written; "Medee" 
 read ; " Medee" revised and corrected ; " Medee" approved, received, 
 rehearsed; "Medee" put away for another day. — Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel in St. Petersburg. — State of Theatricals in Russia. — A witty , 
 Reply 259 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 1854. 
 
 Return from Russia. — Prudence versus Patriotism. — M. Legouve loses 
 Patience. — A Declaration of War before the Civil Tribunal. — Soft 
 Words. — M. Legouve appeased. — The Spoiled Pet and the Public. 
 — Another Quarrel patched up. — Mademoiselle Rachel in the QXzs- 
 &\c Repertoire at the close of her Career. — "Phedrc." — "Camille." — 
 A Souvenir of the Past 275 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 1854. 
 
 The first real Affliction. — Death of Rebecca Felix. — The Rosary. — 
 The "Pardon." — Miss Smithson. — Mademoiselle Sontag. — A Warn- 
 ing. — A Letter from M. Legouve. — Letters from Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel and her Secretary. — Mademoiselle Rachel condemned to play 
 "Medee." — Mademoiselle Rachel doesn't play "Medee." — "Rose- 
 monde." — Another Miscalculation 285
 
 XU CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 1855. 
 "La Czarine." — Melpomene in Hysterics. — A formidable Rival. — Ade- 
 laide Ristori, the Siddons of Italy. — "Francesca da Rimini." — "La 
 Pia de Tolomei." — "Maria Stuarda" Page 308 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 1855. 
 Departure for America. — Passion for Cards and Affection for her Broth- 
 er. — An ill-advised Expedition. — Voyage across the Atlantic. — Un- 
 pleasant Prediction. — A sad Augury. — Our past Errors pursue us 
 through Life. — A Stimulant to Learning. — Spontaneous Generosity. 
 — "La Marseillaise" in the New World. — A slight Cold. — Boston. 
 —Philadelphia 319 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 1856. 
 Return to New York. — Jules Janin in the Field again. — Philadelphia, 
 — Le Commencement de la Fin. — Little family Jars. — Charleston. — 
 The last Performance. — Maurice. — Havana 333 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 1856. 
 Meulan. — Hotel Rachel. — Household Gods put up at Auction. — Value 
 set upon Souvenirs. — Ingenious Cicerones. — A Mother's Letter. — 
 Dear-bought Absence. — Washington's Grandson. — A new Claim on 
 the Theatre Fran9ais. — Return from Egj-pt. — Sojourn in Montpel- 
 lier. — Rachel's Children 345 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 1857. 
 Concealment of Illness. — Bulletins of Health read on the Stage. — Mole. 
 — Nicolet's Monkey-Actors. — Departure for Cannet. — Melancholy 
 Pilgrimage. — Cannes. — Villa at Cannet. — The Dream. — Variations 
 in Health and Spirits. — Farandoles. — Sister Sarah. — Raphael and 
 the Cross. — Last Autograph. — Hebrew Prayer. — Death. — Fune- 
 ral 358
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Parentage.— Abraham Felix and Esther Haya. — Characteristics of the 
 Father reflected in the Daughter.— Nomade Life.— Birth-place, 
 early Childhood, and Tursuits Page 13 
 
 Whenevek it happens that an individual of low birth and 
 obscure origin springs into notoriety by the power of genius, 
 aided by fortuitous circumstances, the anecdote-mongers and 
 scandal-purveyors of an insatiate public stretch theu- inventive 
 faculties to the utmost verge of probability, and even of pos- 
 sibility, in order to invest with all the hues of romance the in- 
 fancy of the child of fame. Denuded of these fanciful addi- 
 tions, the mere facts would, in the majority of cases, possess 
 but little interest ; nine out of ten of those whose genius and 
 talent illustrate the age in which they live, and stamp on the 
 indehble page of history the name of their possessor, have had 
 as uninteresting and prosaic a childhood as the host of their 
 less gifted contemporaries. The interest we take in the early 
 days of Rachel arises, not from her having been a street-sing- 
 er — we daily meet those little itinerant warblers or screechers 
 without bestowing a thought on their past, present, or future 
 — but from her having subsequently attained pre-eminence in 
 a far higher sphere. As for the thousand and one anecdotes 
 that have been circulated of her former life, few are founded 
 on reality, and, even if we grant them all to be deserving of 
 credit, they are such as might find their counterpart in the 
 lives of the common run of mortals. 
 
 The elements that afford an insight into the character, the 
 feelings, the source of inspiration, the modus operandi of the 
 mind — these are the points that interest the judicious observ- 
 er, these are the really valuable traits which we would record. 
 Pruning the surcharged history of our heroine of all incidents
 
 14 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 not well authenticated, we still find sufficient to corroborate 
 our estimate of this very singular and exceptional character, 
 and in her parentage and the circumstances that developed her 
 talents, a clew to much that otherwise would appear unex- 
 plainable. 
 
 The Felix family is of German - Rhenish origin, though 
 Kachel's father, a Frenchman, was born in Metz. Abraham 
 Felix studied in his youth with the object of becoming a rab- 
 bi, but subsequently forsook sacred lore for an avocation sug- 
 gested by necessity, and became a traveling peddler. A man 
 of a I'ather superior order of intellect, considering his position 
 in society, and the few opportunities afforded him for its de- 
 velopment, of sound judgment and strong mind, he has never- 
 theless been accused of displaying in his manners the vanity 
 and self-sufficiency of the parvenu, and of being another in- 
 stance of the fact that, whenever pecuniary interests are in 
 question, the Jew blood is instantly on the alert, and justice 
 and reason are unceremoniously sacrificed to* the love of gain. 
 He may be described as one of those men who, sIoav and me- 
 thodical to a fault, and usually governed by good sense, are yet 
 apt to give way to moments of anger, the fuiy of which is so 
 ungovernable as to terrify the members of their households 
 into a state of mute submission until the storm subsides — men 
 who contradict, irritate, and worry the weak who are in their 
 power, and, in so doing, lash themselves into the most unrea- 
 sonable rages. This, however, in the case of Rachel's father, 
 happened but seldom ; for, though severe, he was generally 
 strictly just. Whatever might be the pride he felt in his 
 daughter, he never joined with her mother, brother, and sistei's 
 in their silly and exaggerated encomiums of her talent. He 
 never hesitated to blame openly what he did not approve, and 
 his praise was the more valuable from the caution with which 
 it was bestowed. His taste and instinctive knowledge of dra- 
 matic art would have done honor to a veteran stager, and to 
 his judicious advice Rachel was perhaps indebted for much of 
 her success. Indeed, she inlierited from him so many of the 
 most striking points of her character, that some knowledge of 
 the father's is necessary to gain a clew to the daughter's. 
 
 Of Rachel's mother, Esther Haya Felix, it may be sufficient
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 15 
 
 to say that she was a sensible, kind-hearted, and intelligent 
 woman, who, though idolizing her children, never permitted 
 the slightest disregard of her maternal authority. And one 
 of the peculiar characteristics of this family — a characteristic 
 especially rare in the present age of progress, Avhen children 
 are wiser than their fathers, and consign respect to age among 
 the rubbish of a by-gone time — is the unbounded reverence 
 with which, whatever the success that has attended their ca- 
 reer, the younger members appear to have always regarded its 
 heads. There is something very beautiful, and of a Biblical 
 character, in the intercourse between the parents and the chil- 
 dren, which reminds one of scenes in the lives of the patriarchs. 
 
 But with these higher and finer traits — these bright dashes 
 on the canvas of this Israelite tableau — are interminsled 
 meaner and baser ones, the foul blotches inseparable from the 
 race, and conspicuous wherever there is a drop of the blood — 
 soi'did littleness, petty vanity, and inordinate love of show. 
 Though at heart a good woman, Madame Felix has been ac- 
 cused of carrying to a greater length than even her husband 
 the parvenu characteristics, and to have been too apt in mat- 
 ters of business to bring to her aid all the sharp, grasping, 
 covetous nature of him who so artfully acquired his brother's 
 birthright. In this particular, however else they may differ, 
 the whole family have shown but too close a similarity. 
 
 But while tlie littleness and foibles of the Felix family are, 
 as we have already said, distinctive attributes of their race, it 
 must be owned that their great and good qualities are no less 
 its appanage. Fortitude in adversity, perseverance in the pur- 
 suit of an object, religious reverence for family ties, and the 
 esimt lie corps that has sustained that race and maintained its 
 existence through long centuries and amid antagonistic na- 
 tions, have endowed this scattered remnant of a once mighty 
 people Avith the strength which they lack numerically, and 
 enabled them to maintain their long-disputed footing amid the 
 peoples of Europe. These qualities are found unalloyed in 
 the Felix family. 
 
 The marriage between the parents of Rachel was one of 
 mutual affection ; but the course of true love did not run 
 smoother in their case than it does in the generality of in-
 
 16 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Stances, the elders long withholding their consent. At the 
 end of two years the perseverance of the lovers triumphed, and 
 they were united. A numerous progeny was for a long time 
 the only wealth of this constant couple. Bora during the 
 course of their mother's peregrinations, each child was the na- 
 tive of a different place. Several died in early childhood, and 
 six reached adultness. Of these, Sarah, Eaphael, Leah, and 
 Dinah still live ; Rebecca died three years ago ; and of the 
 death of Rachel we shall have hereafter to make more partic- 
 ular mention. These Biblical names proclaiming too plainly 
 the race of the bearers, they were laid aside, and more com- 
 monplace ones substituted. Sarah and Raphael alone kept 
 theirs ; the other children Avere known as Eliza, Rosalie, Char- 
 lotte, and Emilia. When they subsequently came before the 
 public, however, the prestige attached to uncommon names in- 
 duced them to resume their original ones. On the day of her 
 debut Eliza appeared as Rachel, Rosahe afterward came out 
 as Rebecca, Charlotte was Leah, and Emilia Dinah. Even 
 Madame Felix, who had Christianized herself so far as adopt- 
 ing the name of Sophia went, took the more euphonious one 
 of Noemi. 
 
 Fortune long frowned on the Felix family. Pursuing from 
 town to village, and from fair to fair, their precarious and toil- 
 some career, earning with difficulty their uncertain daily bread, 
 the parents, like the majority of itinerant Jews, carried on a 
 variety of avocations, but had no regular trade or profession. 
 
 Sarah, the eldest child, was born in Germany, and in the 
 very heart of the Jewish customs and traditions. Of all the 
 family, she is the most thorough Hebrew at heart. 
 
 Raphael was bom in Macon, Rebecca in Lyons, and Dinah 
 in Paris. 
 
 It was in a little MTetched inn in Munf (Canton of Aran, 
 Switzerland), on the 24th of March, 1821, according to the 
 best authenticated account, that the wife of the poor peddler 
 gave birth to the child who was to be the source of wealth 
 and prosperity to the whole family. We have given this place 
 of birth, as we have said, from the best authenticated accounts ; 
 for, in reality, nothing can be found to designate with certain- 
 ty the exact spot. All that remains to record the event, so
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 17 
 
 unimportant to the world at that time, is an entry made by 
 the burgomaster of Aran, mentioning that the wife of a ped- 
 dler had been confined of a female child in the village of Munf. 
 The entry bore no mention of family or religion. The birth 
 was regularly recorded on no civil or religious register what- 
 soever. 
 
 Thus the great tragedienne of our age, she whose renown 
 has been proclaimed in all Europe and confirmed in the New 
 "World, can not boast of that which is the patrimony of the 
 humblest and poorest chUd of the people — an act that proves 
 her identity ! 
 
 For ten successive years the family wandered throughout 
 Switzerland and Germany, and during the course of this weari- 
 some pilgrimage, the energy and perseverance with which the 
 mother sought to conquer adverse fate were indefatigable. She 
 finally succeeded in housing her numerous progeny in Lyons, 
 where she opened a paltry little second-hand clothes shop. 
 
 While patient Esther bought and sold old clothes, her hus- 
 band gave lessons in German. Sarah, the eldest child, went 
 from one cafe to another singing, accompanied by her young- 
 er sister, Rachel, who collected the copper donations, and the 
 children not unfrequently trundled between them, on a bar- 
 row, a third child, thus adding to the interest they excited, 
 and relieving their mother of the care of the baby for a short 
 time. 
 
 CPIAPTER n. 
 
 1830 to 1837. 
 
 Paris. — A lucky Meeting. — Mr. Choron. — The Cours St. Aulaire.^ 
 Rachel at Thirteen. — Narrative of Salema. — An old Umbrella for 
 Racine. — " Le Legataire Universel. " — Precocious Actress. — The 
 Conservatoire. — Conflicting Opinions. — A Judge at Fault. — Unfa- 
 vorable Prognostics. — "Sell Bouquets, girl, sell Bouquets." — An 
 important Role. — Agreat Step in Life 17 
 
 ToAVARD the year 1830 the Felix fiamily found means to 
 satisfy the craving desire that all provincials entertain to see 
 the capital. They removed to Paris, and for some years con- 
 tinued there the life they led in Lyons.
 
 18 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Many and contradictory versions liave been given of the 
 circumstances that led to the cultivation and development of 
 the tragic genius whose latent spai'k might, under less propi- 
 tious ones, have been stifled at its birth. The following we 
 can vouch for as having been the real origin of Rachel's for- 
 tunate career. 
 
 A gentleman of the name of Morin, who, at the present 
 day, is employed in a government office, was one evening tak- 
 ing his cup of coffee in a cafe, Kue de la Huchette, one of the 
 poorest, lowest, and meanest streets of a very poor, low, and 
 mean quarter of the tov.'n. Sarah was singing, and Eachel 
 was going the rounds of the tables, collecting contributions 
 from the guests. Struck with the exceeding sweetness of the 
 elder girl's voice — a voice possessing in an extraordinary de- 
 gree the power of awakening a sympathetic chord in the heart 
 of the listener — Mr. Morin called the singer to him, and in- 
 quired why she did not find a way to make her voice more 
 profitable than it was with her present mode of using it — a 
 practice which, moreover, exposed her to numerous insults, 
 and might result in her finally losing it. 
 
 The girl replied that she had no one to take an interest in 
 or to counsel her how to act. 
 
 " Well," said the gentleman, " here is my address ; come 
 to me to-morrow, and I will give you a letter to a friend of 
 mine who may be of great service to you." 
 
 The girls went the next day to their new protector, who, 
 true to his word, gave them a letter to Mr. Choron, then at 
 the head of the Conservatoire of Sacred Music, Rue Yangirad, 
 G9. Choron heard Sarah sing, and immediately admitted her 
 as a pupil. Then turning to Rachel, he said, 
 
 "And what can you do, Uttle one?" 
 
 " I can recite verses," was the reply. 
 
 " Recite verses, can you ? Pray let me hear you." 
 
 The child complied, and the correctness and feeling ■v\nth 
 which she uttered the pieces of her little rcpertoiy were deem- 
 ed remarkable by this competent judge, albeit the effect of the 
 recitation was somewhat marred by the gruff tones of the voice. 
 Both sisters were admitted into the Conservatoire, Rachel tak- 
 ing a place among tlie choristers.
 
 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 19 
 
 JJy the advice of Mr.Clioron, Rachel studied elocution, and 
 was recommended by him to St. Aulaire, the manager of the 
 Salle Ge'nard, Kue de Lancry, where pupils were taught gra- 
 tuitously. Her sister Sarah also followed the Cours there. 
 The talent innate in the younger sister must have been very 
 apparent, for, unlike Sarah's, her voice was peculiarly grating 
 and disagreeable in early youth, and for a long while seemed 
 destined to prove an insuperable obstacle to success. 
 
 Nor was the exterior of the aspirant after histrionic laurels 
 an auxiliary. Puny, meagre, wiry, she appeared several years 
 younger than she really was. The person from whom these 
 particulai'S were obtained, and who, for years, never lost sight 
 of the fortunate Jewess, gives a graphic description of her as 
 she then appeared. It was in 1834, on a cold, gray Novem- 
 ber morning, Kachel was dressed in a short calico frock, the 
 pattern of whicli was the common one of a red ground spot- 
 ted with white ; the trowsers were of the same material ; the 
 boots of coarse black leather, laced in front, but scrupulously 
 polished. Iler hair was parted at the back of the head, and 
 hung down her shoulders in two braids. Every thing about 
 the child was of the cheapest and plainest kind, but the en- 
 semble conveyed an idea of excessive neatness and even precis- 
 ion — characteristics for which she was always noted. With 
 those older than herself little Kachel was punctiliously po- 
 lite, and this manner proceeded more from intuitive Jinowl- 
 edge of the propriety of such conduct than from lessons re- 
 ceived. She was simple and grave beyond her years ; every 
 feature of the long, childish face bearing an impress of mod- 
 esty and even dignity, with which education had had little to 
 do. With children of her own age she was pert, bold, and 
 capricious, resembling rather a fantastic, tricky elf than the 
 serious, formal little dame she appeared in older society. 
 
 The Cours was removed from the Rue Lancry, and estab- 
 lished momentarily in the Prado, opposite the Palais de Jus- 
 tice. It was here that Rachel's natui-al genius for tragedy 
 was in reality first revealed. She recited the narrative of 
 Salema, in the " Abufar," by Ducis, describing the agony of 
 the mother who, while expiring of thirst in a desert, gives birth 
 to her babe. While uttering the thrilling tale, the thin face
 
 20 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 seemed to lengthen ■n'ith horror, the small, deep-set black eyes 
 dilated with a fixed stare, as though she witnessed the har- 
 rowing scene, and the deep guttural tones, despite a slight 
 Jewish accent, awoke a nameless terror in the hearer, carry- 
 ing him through the imaginary woe with a strange feeling of 
 reality, not to be shaken off as long as the sounds lasted- To 
 elicit thus the sympathetic attention of those who heard her 
 was much, but yet more was needed to satisfy a public ren- 
 dered fastidious by the remembrance of past excellence, and 
 the constant habit of seeing new candidates for its favors. 
 The voice might be tolerated, as time was expected to smooth 
 its discordant notes ; but the public eye must also be satisfied ; 
 and, until she attained nearly her full growth, Rachel's figure, 
 all acute angles, resembled that of a half-starved monkey. 
 
 The school was finally removed to the Salle Moliere in 
 April, 1835, and here the system of teaching was somewhat 
 changed. Theatricals were got up in which the pupils were 
 the actors, each paying from one to ten francs for the privi- 
 lege, according to the importance of the part undertaken. 
 Sarah, who was supposed to be an especial favorite with the 
 head of the academy, had her own way. in all things, and the 
 result was that her sister played any and every thing without 
 paying. In fact, she learned indiscriminately any part that 
 happened to be wanted, from one of the mutes that fill up the 
 background to the most important personages in tragedy or 
 comedy, without any reference to her" peculiar disposition or 
 aptness for any one branch of her art — points utterly un- 
 heeded by the teacher at the time. This indifference seemed 
 justified by the insignificant appearance she then presented. 
 Time seemed to pass over without noticing the scraggy little 
 elf, who, at fourteen, hardly looked to be nine. During three 
 years she did not grow a line. 
 
 The following account of the first introduction of a well- 
 known feuilletonist to the tragedienne in embryo we borrow 
 from the Independence Beige. Speaking of the little theatre 
 where St. Aulaire taught his pupils to appear with ease and 
 confidence before an audience, Mr. Villemot says : 
 
 " It was here that, in 1835, 1 saw for the first time her who 
 was to win such celebrity. One of my friends, a young man
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 21 
 
 of good family, and who now occupies the post of French 
 Consul abroad, was possessed with a passion for private the- 
 atricals. All his leisure hours and all his spare money he 
 spent in this darling pursuit, and I was one day invited Avith 
 great solemnity to witness his performance of the part oi Dan- 
 ville in the ^ Ecole des Vieillards.^ When we entered the thea- 
 tre, my friend stopped before a column on which was a smoky 
 lamp, and against which was leaning a meagre, black, scraggy, 
 poverty-stricken little girl, of an aspect more wretched than I 
 can describe. ' Eliza,' quoth the amateur comedian to this 
 child, ' which would you rather have, a cake or fried potatoes ?' 
 ' Fried potatoes,' was the reply. 
 
 " My friend, who, in playing great characters, had acquired 
 habits of reckless prodigality, nlrew from his pocket a two-sous 
 piece. Seized with a spirit of emulation, I bestowed a similar 
 coin. The child disappeared, and returned almost immediate- 
 ly bearing a paper horn full of fried potatoes, temptingly hot 
 and brown. She offered the horn to her benefactors, and this 
 was the only time I ever partook of a meal with Mademoiselle 
 Eachel. Young Eliza was to appear in an after-piece — I do 
 not know what one, or in what part. I did not see her : my 
 friend had made such poor work of the part of Danville,! had 
 had quite enough of it. Going home, I inquired of my friend 
 who was that miserable little thing. 'That,' said he, 'is a 
 very intelligent but very poor child, as you see. You, who 
 are acquainted with authors and managers, might perhaps get 
 her employment in some theatre to play childish parts ; you 
 would thus do her a great favor.' 
 
 " But people are not apt to interest themselves in meagre, 
 dark, AATCtched-looking children, even when they are gifted 
 with intelligence, and the amateur's recommendation was not 
 in the present case more successful than such efforts usually 
 are. "Wlien Rachel was no longer in need of assistance, it 
 would have been joyfully proffered." 
 
 Rachel thus continued to spend, or rather to waste her time, 
 playing once a week, until the year 1836. About this epoch, 
 Mr.de St. Aulaire, who rather liked his little pupil, introduced 
 her to some of the actors of the different theatres, who now 
 and then came to witness the performances of these embryo
 
 22 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 actresses. Among these visitors was Monval, an actor of the 
 Gymnase, of mediocre ability as an actor, but of deserved repu- 
 tation as stage manager of that theatre. Monval was among 
 those who took note of the peculiar excellence of little Rachel's 
 style of acting — an excellence unfortunately cast into the shade 
 by the too apparent disadvantages of her form. 
 
 On the 20th of March of that year the Conservatoire de 
 Musique re-opened its classes of declamation, and Sanson, Mi- 
 chelot, and Provost wei'e appointed professors. Many of St. 
 Aulaire's pupils deserted him for the Conservatoire, and Rachel 
 was advised to do the same. Ties of gratitude, however, 
 bound the little Jewess to the professor who had been so kind 
 to her, and she could not decently leave him for the more fa- 
 vored institution that had eclipsed his. At the end of three 
 or four months nearly all the pupils of the Salle Moliere had 
 left, seduced not only by the rumor of the brilliancy of style 
 acquired at the Conservatoire, but by a still more potent con- 
 sideration — at the public institution, no expense was incurred 
 by the pupils ; at St. Aulaire's, a monthly sum of two francs 
 was paid by each toward defraying the expenses of the rooms. 
 However small this sum may seem, it was one of importance 
 to many of the contributors. As Rachel, however, paid noth- 
 ing, this consideration could not influence her and counter- 
 balance gratitude ; how far the latter feeling would have con- 
 quered had the case been otherwise, it is hard to say. 
 
 An incident related by herself proves both how strong was 
 the vocation of the child and how poor were her circumstances 
 at the time. She owned an old volume of Racine, and lonsed 
 to become the fortunate possessor of another. 
 
 She had seen just the book she coveted in one of the collec- 
 tions of old books displayed for sale on the quays, but the 
 franc needed for the purchase was a sum for beyond her 
 means. The temptation at last overpowered all other consid- 
 erations ; she went to a dealer in second-hand articles, sold 
 him an old umbrella, with which she went back, and forth to 
 the Cours, and bought the volume with the twenty sous she 
 had thus obtained. At home she accounted for the umbrella 
 by saying she had lost it. 
 
 One Sunday, Sanson, then at the height of his reputation,
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 23 
 
 came to St. Aulaire's to see one of his pupils act Lisette in the 
 "Legataire Universel," a play in which there is an incidental 
 part. In the second act, old Geroute, who intends committing 
 matrimony, receives a call from his apothecary, a fiery little 
 bantam, married to a second wife, and who, having had a fam- 
 ily of fourteen children by the first spouse, confidently hopes 
 that the second may prove as prolific. He calls for the pur- 
 pose of entering a violent protest against his customer's con- 
 nubial intentions, and, after an explosion of wrath, goes off in 
 a fury, prognosticating all the ills imaginable to the doomed 
 patient. This part is generally played by a child ; but, though 
 tlie size of the personage is thus represented, the 7-ole loses 
 sadly in other respects. On this occasion it fell to Rachel, 
 whose figure it exactly suited, her very defects proving serv- 
 iceable qualities in this instance. Here, too, her sharp, rough 
 tones, her naturally tragic delivery, her energetic bursts of 
 fury, enabled her to do ample justice to the part, and elicited 
 much applause. Sanson warmly urged her to join the Cours 
 of the Conservatoire, and interest and ambition predominating 
 over gratitude, she took the advice of her new acquaintance. 
 Having passed her examination, she was admitted, notwith- 
 standing her dwarf figure. 
 
 She reaped little advantage from the change of quarters. 
 She attracted little notice from the professors, her voice mili- 
 tating greatly against her, Avhile her size seemed to condemn 
 her to inaction. Michelot pronounced that her voice might 
 eventually render her suited for tragic parts, but that her size 
 would be an objection. Provost averred that her slender pro- 
 portions might enable her to play the Soubrettes of comedy, 
 but that her voice totally precluded her so doing. Notwith- 
 standing this, he caused her to learn Lisette in the " Folics 
 Amoureuses" by Kegnard. Sanson refrained from expressing 
 his opinion. On the following Saturday Provost heard her 
 repeat her part, and, according to custom, was exceedingly 
 liarsh and violent with her. This was, in fact, his manner 
 with all his pupils. He entered so completely into the spirit 
 of the part, that he did not pause to consider that all were 
 not imbued with his conception of it, and, in consequence of 
 this arbitrary view, any deviation was visited with merciless
 
 24 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 severity. Rachel was snubbed, scolded, and browbeaten like 
 the rest, with the additional comment that she had the voice of 
 a costermonger. " Go, child, go sell bouquets ; that's all you 
 will ever be fit for," was the comforting finale of the profess- 
 or's lecture. 
 
 Some months after this stormy lesson, the derided pupil had 
 an opportunity to remind the false prophet of his dishearten- 
 ing predictions. She had played " Hermione" to an enthu- 
 siastic public, and been, greeted with a shower of bouquets. 
 When the curtain fell, gathering her trophies in the skirt of 
 her Grecian tunic, she approached Provost, who was behind 
 the scenes, and, kneeling with mock humiUty, said, 
 
 " Sir, you once advised me to sell bouquets ; will you now 
 be my first customer?" 
 
 Provost gracefully admitted his error, adding that none 
 could rejoice moi'e sincerely than himself in the falseness of 
 his prophecy. 
 
 But that day of triumph was still distant, and in the mean 
 while the poor girl, who was even at that age obliged to have 
 her tonsils cut, retired heart-stricken and despairing. This 
 scene took place in the beginning of the year 1837, at which 
 time the pupils were rehearsing " TartufFe." To Rachel fell 
 the part of FUpotte ! That, after ten years of study, she should 
 only be deemed worthy to receive, with speechless resignation, 
 the box on the ear fi'om the irascible Madame Pernelle, was 
 an insult too great to be tolerated, and the hitherto patient 
 and docile girl forsook the Conservatoire, and sought the ad- 
 vice of her old friend St. Aulaire, whom she begged to pro- 
 cure her employment in some theatre where she could earn a 
 trifle. St. Aulaire spoke on the subject to Monval, who, hav- 
 ing heard her, recommended her to his manager, Mr. Poirson. 
 Mr. Poirson liked singular and eccentric persons, and, hearing 
 that the girl was a very odd little thing, engaged her at the — 
 to her — very high salary of 3000 francs for three years. Her 
 abilities having been gauged, a piece in two acts, called " La 
 Vendeenne," was written by Paul Duport for her debict.
 
 MKMOIKS OF KACHEL. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 1837. 
 
 The Gymnasc. — La Vendeennc. — The first Criticism. — Jules Janin; 
 — Boullo. — An odd little Thing. — Jewish Esprit de Corj/s. — Rachel 
 and Sanson 25 
 
 Thus she who probably even then aspired to tread the clas- 
 sical highway to the Temple of Fame, set out by turning her 
 back on the Greek and Koman Deities to enter the narrow 
 lane of the Vaudeville drama. However, it was still a begin- 
 ning, and, in her situation, an unhoped-for piece of good luck. 
 Of this debut, which took place on the 24th of April, 1837, a 
 dramatic author of some reputation, JMr. G. Rurat de Gurgy, 
 condescended to give the following notice : 
 
 " Mademoiselle Rachel Felix, who is quite a young person, 
 will, in the course of time, prove herself possessed of one of the 
 lincst dramatic organizations we have yet seen. Her voice is 
 grave and penetrating, and in moments of passion its tones 
 soften and seem full of tears. The success of Mademoiselle 
 Felix has exceeded, if possible, that of the " Vendeenne," which 
 had been so arranged as to give full scope to the precocious 
 powers of the debutante. She was I'ecalled and applauded sev- 
 eral times. The Theatre of the Gymnase will renew with 
 this young actress the bright days of Mademoiselle Leontine 
 Fry. The continuation of Mademoiselle Rachel's debuts has 
 not ceased to be happy, and we are more than ever disposed 
 to believe in the fair horoscope that is drawn for her by all 
 who witness her performances. Good plays make the repu- 
 tation of actresses, and good actresses insure success to plays." 
 
 The above opinion could not, certes, at the time it was writ- 
 ten, be accused of partiality, or of having emanated from par- 
 ty feeling. It was as sincere as it was just, and its favorable 
 prognostics have since been fulfilled. 
 
 Though the groundwork of the drama of " La Vendeenne," 
 and its most pathetic scenes, are openly borrowed from the 
 
 B
 
 26 MEMOIRS OF BACHEL. 
 
 well-known novel of the " Heart of Mid-Lothian," it possess- 
 ed all the interest of a new story. The poor girl who, alone, 
 unprotected, sustained only by her alFection, travels from a dis- 
 tant province up to court to implore mercy for a sister or a 
 father, as the case may be, must necessarily prove interesting. 
 The plot is very simple. General Fresnault is sent to pacify 
 "La Vendee." The general, though kind-hearted, and desir- 
 ous of sparing the Vende'ens, is devoted heart and soul to the 
 First Consul, and is a strict disciplinarian. On one occasion 
 an order is dispatched from the court for the arrest and deliv- 
 ery to a court-martial of a certain Yendeen peasant of the 
 uame of Thibault. The order is brought by a young and ele- 
 gant captain, an aid-de-camjj of General Bonaparte, a cousin 
 of Josephine's, a sort of pet at the Malmaison. When Victor 
 delivers his fatal missive there is in the room a young girl, into 
 whose heart the tidings strike despair, for Thibault is her 
 father. The paroxysm of grief of the fair Genevieve moves 
 the gay young officer to disregard even a peremptory duty ; 
 come what will, she shall have time to implore mercy for her 
 father. To afford her this time he has but one resource — he 
 throws the order in the fire. 
 
 From the Vendeenne's cottage, where the first act passes, 
 the second carries us into the gardens of the Malmaison, where 
 we find the lovely and gentle mistress also a prey to anxiety 
 for the safety of him she loves. George Cadoudal has been 
 again busy, and a plan had very recently been laid, and well- 
 nigh carried into execution, for the seizure and sending cap- 
 tive into England of the First Consul. The discovery of this 
 plot has exasperated its proposed victim. The time is ill cho- 
 sen for the petition of Victor's protegee. He himself has just 
 arrived, and obtained an audience of Josephine. His cousin 
 reproaches him for his imprudence. " Good heavens ! he has 
 destroyed one of Bonaparte's dispatches ; he has saved one of 
 George Cadoudal's friends. You liave deserved death, young 
 madman. You will certainly be shot. Fly! Victor, fly!" 
 
 Alas ! the advice of the compassionate Josephine comes too 
 late, for the imprudent captain is then and there arrested. 
 
 In the mean while, little Genevieve arrives at the chateau. 
 She has walked a long way ; she is weary and foot-sore, and,
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 27 
 
 now that she lias reached the goal, every thing fails her at 
 once — her protector, Victor, hope, courage. The child, thus 
 left to her own resources, sinks, faint and despairing, in a cor- 
 ner of the empress's salon. We may well say the empress 
 now, for on this very day the First Consul has resolved to ex- 
 change the life-consulship for a royal, imperial, hereditary, 
 and perpetual majesty. While Josephine, thus raised to the 
 height of honors, gives vent to her exultation, she hears the 
 broken sobs of the disconsolate child. The empress turns her 
 head, and Genevieve is at her feet. Here begins the scene on 
 which hangs the fate of the chief dra7naiis persoticr, that of the 
 play itself, and the success of the dekitante. The Jinale is 
 easily guessed. The emperor inaugurates his reign by an act 
 of clemency. So fair a day must be darkened by no cloud — 
 the captain and the Vcndeen chief are forgiven. 
 
 The young actress had dressed the piece with strict atten- 
 tion ; the garb was the coarse one of the Vende'enne peasant- 
 girl, and certainly not calculated to conceal defects or set off 
 beauty in the wearer, yet the illusion was complete. There 
 were two stanzas in her part, which, instead of singing, she 
 chanted, with the strangely moving intonations, the 7}}elopa:ia 
 which ten years later were to prove so effective in the " Mar- 
 seillaise," on the boards of the Theritre Fran9ais. It was evi- 
 dent that hers was no voice for singing, yet she threw such 
 feeling into the stanzas that it compensated the lack of vocal 
 powers. The following verse was the most applauded : 
 
 " Je croquais encore 1' invoquer; 
 Vers moi soudain elle s' avance, 
 Et du doigt semble m' indiquer 
 Une ville inconnue immense, 
 Un seul mot rompit le silence 
 'Paris !' et puis elle ajouta, 
 Comme en reponse a ma priere, 
 ' Vas y seule a pied — car c'est Ik 
 Que tu pourras sauver ton pere.' " 
 
 At the rehearsal, Bouffe, who was present, was much 
 struck with the singular mixture of strange qualities the de- 
 hutante presented — a union of the sublime and the grotesque 
 — a casket, rough-hewn and unpolished, through which gleam- 
 ed a priceless gem. An imdefined sense of something grand
 
 28 MEMOIRS OF EACIIEL. 
 
 lurking beneath that unpropitiating exterior pervaded the 
 minds of the spectators, who almost refrained from expressing 
 an admiration they could not satisfactorily explain to them- 
 selves. Bouffe had never heard of her, and the big voice, the 
 scrao-ffy figure, the unaffected, simple intonation, the calm, 
 quie't'dignity, beneath which lay an extraordinary depth of 
 passion, impressed him strangely. 
 
 " What an odd little girl !" said he ; " there is something 
 in her, certes, but her place is not here." 
 
 A far more important critic than the preceding one also 
 gave his opinion of the play and of the actress. The feuilleton 
 of the Ziebats of May 1st, 1837, contained the foUowing : 
 
 " The little drama (' La Vendeenne') is sunply but clearly 
 written. The empire and La Vendee, the republic and the 
 monarchy, all parties and all persons, are handled with such 
 tact as to give offense to none, and numerous stumbling-blocks 
 nicely avoided. But the production of a drama was not the 
 sole object the author had in view ; the success of his heroine 
 was to entail the success of a new-comer on the stage, a child 
 of scarcely fifteen summers, of the name of Eachel. This 
 child, thank Heaven, is not a phenomenon, and will never be 
 cried up as a wonder. Eachel has soul, heart, intellect, and 
 very little skill. She possesses an intuitive perception of the 
 feeling she is to express, and her intellect suffices to under- 
 stand it. She needs lessons and. advice from no one. In her 
 acting there is no effort, no exaggeration ; she utters no 
 screams, makes no gestures ; there is nothing like coquetry in 
 her countenance or manners ; on the contrary, there is some- 
 thing abrupt, bold, and savage in the attitude, walk, and look 
 — such is Kachel. This child, whose instinct tells her what 
 is truth in art, dresses with scrupulous attention to local cos- 
 tumes ; her voice is harsh and untutored like that of a child ; 
 her hands are red like those of a child ; her foot, like her 
 hand, is scarcely shaped yet ; she is not pretty, yet she pleases; 
 in a word, there is a great future in this young talent, and for 
 the present she excites tears, emotion, and interest." 
 
 The above judgment is curious, inasmuch as, though on 
 the whole very favorable to Rachel, it contains a sentence 
 wholly and positively contradicted hj the writer himself with-
 
 MEMOIES OF RACHEL. 29 
 
 in a twelvemonth after, namely, that Rachel was not a phe- 
 nomenon, and ivould never be cried up as a tconder. The Con- 
 stitutionnel of May 1st, also, though less favorable to the play, 
 was quite as much so to the precocious talent of the actress. 
 Beyond a few words of praise in the Dibats of May 22d, no 
 farther notice was taken of the debutante for many months. 
 Her very existence seemed forgotten by the press. 
 
 The Jewish esprit de corps shone conspicuously on the occa- 
 sion of the debut of a co-religionist. Her father's traffic, sta- 
 tion, and circumstances threw him altogether into one class 
 of his people, and that class, by no means the highest, came 
 forth en masse to sustain the neophyte. The gods were on that 
 occasion all Jews. All the cheap seats were crammed with 
 the chosen people. The " Vendeenne" was acted sixty times 
 in succession, but the treasury was not much benefited by the 
 influx of Israelites, as the galleries and pit alone were filled. 
 The vanity of the Felix family was, however, amply grati- 
 fied, for these numerous supporters tributed applause, which, 
 if not always very judicious, was loud, lusty, and prolonged 
 ad infinitum. 
 
 Notwithstanding this apparent success, Rachel was found 
 by the manager a more difficult commodity to dispose of than 
 he had imagined. His was not the stage for her peculiar 
 style. Scribe's little comedies, with their prettiness and lit- 
 tleness, were totally unsuited to the manner of young Rachel 
 — a manner simple, serious, verging already on the sublime ; 
 and the voice was utterly at variance Avith the pert, roguish 
 manner of the soubrette. Finally, he intrusted her with the 
 role of Susanne, in the "Marriage de Raison" — a i-6le created 
 by Leontine Fay, afterward Madame Volnys, who was then 
 at the TheTitre Frangais. Rachel, anxious to improve, went 
 to Madame Volnys, and begged she would give her the bene- 
 fit of her advice in learning a part in which she hei'self had 
 obtained such eminent success. Madame Volnys kindly com- 
 plied, but licr tutoring did no good to Rachel, whose sterling 
 and original talent could not bend to adopt the empty, rapid 
 style of Leontine. She made her second debut in this part on 
 the 18th of June. The success obtained continued to be a 
 negative one, and the cheap seats to be invaded by the de- 
 scendants of Jacob.
 
 30 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 
 
 By this time it had become evident to all that the national 
 tragic arena was the only one where the powers of Rachel 
 could find scope for full development. She was now sixteen, 
 and, as though Nature had awaited the hour of her debut to 
 join with Fortune in showering favors on their gifted child, 
 within a few months of that auspicious era in her life the 
 dwarfish figure had — we will not say grown, for the word 
 scarce gives an idea of the change — elongated several inches ! 
 She applied to her former professor, Sanson, who procured her 
 an eno-agement at the Theatre Fran^ais, for the first tragic 
 parts, at a salary of 4000 francs per year. Mr. Poirson, con- 
 vinced of her unfitness for his stage, kindly canceled her en- 
 gagement with liim. 
 
 From that day forth Sanson took great interest in Rachel, 
 and labored diligently to impart to her the qualities for whicli 
 he was eminent — clearness and simplicity of style, purity of 
 diction. He revealed her powers to the diligent pupil, and 
 opened a new sphere to her soaring spirit. The following an- 
 ecdote, told by one who had it from the lips of his pupil, 
 proves that Sanson saw the germ of the bright future that was 
 in store for her. Before her engagement at the Theatre Fran- 
 ^ais, of which she was destined to prove the restorer and chief 
 stay, he gave her two seats for some performance he was anx- 
 ious she should witness. Overjoyed at the prospect of the 
 treat, the girl donned her best apparel — her best was not very 
 brilliant — and was at the doors with her mother at an early 
 hour. Looking disdainfully at the mean bonnets, coarse plaid 
 shawls, and clogs, that were to be inducted into the best and 
 most conspicuous places in the house, 
 
 " Here," quoth the ticket-taker, " you're not fit to be seen 
 in those seats: take these; they are quite good enough." 
 
 Rachel was inclined to throw back the tickets thus uncere- 
 moniously exchanged for hers, but the wish to see the play 
 triumphed over pride, and she accepted the back seats at the 
 top of the house. 
 
 AVhen Sanson heard of the disrespect shown to his pupil, 
 he was exceedingly angry with the controlleur. 
 
 " The little girl you have treated so rudely," said he, " jvill 
 one day have influence enougli to dispose of your place at her
 
 MEMOIRS or RACHEL. 31 
 
 will ; she will one day give the law in the house you would 
 have turned her out of." 
 
 Indeed, so much did Rachel profit by the untiring lessons 
 of this excellent teacher, that licr detractors have thence taken 
 occasion to say that without him she would never have at- 
 tained her high eminence in art. They have asserted that 
 Rachel was, after all, but an echo of her professors — a clear, 
 sonorous, magnificent echo certainly, but still only an echo. 
 
 It would be absurd to assert that the splendid terrors of 
 that queenly brow, the impassioned accents of those eloquent 
 lips, now full of piercing irony, now quivering with suppressed 
 rage, are due to mechanical precision, to careful imitation. 
 No, the denicrs of her genius dare not go so far ; they allow 
 that she understands tlie scope and design of that which she 
 so readily executes, but they will not allow that her concep- 
 tion is innate. They explain her extraordinary performance 
 by her wonderful memory, and insist that she is entirely in- 
 debted to her power of retaining and classifying in systematic 
 order the diflferent effects that have been pointed out to her, 
 using them with accurate precision just where they are re- 
 quired. To use the words of one of these iconoclasts, she 
 should be regarded only as an instrument, but an instrument 
 gifted with a soul, which, in the absence of the skillful hand 
 that draws forth its sweetness, re-echoes the harmonious note 
 that hand had once awakened. They averred that, alone and 
 unaided, she was wholly destitute of creative power, and like 
 a diamond lost in the darkness, that awaits a foreign light to 
 throw forth its own rays. The most incredulous of these 
 skeptics allowed, however, that she possessed a wonderful 
 organization of the larynx, and attributed to it the transcend- 
 ent eflfects she produced. In proof of this incapacity to cre- 
 ate, they alleged that every new part she appeared in had been 
 carefully, indefatigably conned over with Sanson, line by line, 
 word by word, from the first to the last verse ; every attitude, 
 gesture, and intonation studied, weighed, and regulated, the 
 hand of art guiding this fine but nearly blind intelligence. 
 
 All this may in a measure be true ; but that Rachel had 
 immense native genius is no less so ; and the fact that art had 
 to be called in to guide and maintain it in the true road, that
 
 32 MEMOIES OP RA.CIIEL. 
 
 the lessons of wisdom and experience were needed to curb its 
 erratic propensities within the bounds of nature, does not at 
 all gainsay its existence. Were her success entirely attribu- 
 table to her professor, she would not stand alone on the height 
 to which she has risen, for very many indeed have been pupils 
 of the same master, and among them we discern but one Rachel. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE DEBUTS OF MADEMOISELLE RACHEL m ALL HER CLAS- 
 SICAL ROLES. 
 
 1838 and 1839. 
 
 The Theatre Frangais. — Three Months of negative Success. — "Ca- 
 mille." — "Hermione." — "Emilie." — An unknown Admirer. — ^Doc- 
 tor Veron. — Appearance of Kachel at that Time. — The Prince of Crit- 
 ics. — A less enthusiastic Admirer. — Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, 
 Titus, and Berenice, in brocade, flowing wigs, and small swords ... 32 
 
 The first appearance of Rachel on the classic boards of the 
 Theatre Fran9ais was in the part o^ Camille, on the 12th of 
 June, 1838. The heat was excessive ; all town was out of 
 town ; the boxes were empty ; the pit and galleries, as usual, 
 fiUed with Jews, who had, in behalf of Rachel, made the thea- 
 tre their place of rendezvous. Her success with that audience 
 was complete, although surpassed by that which Joanny, who 
 played old Horace, obtained. Her second debut was in the 
 Emilie of" Cinna," on the 16th ; the third in the Hermione of 
 " Andromaque," on the 9th of July. When she uttered the 
 ironical passage of the fourth act, beginning 
 
 "Seigneur, dans cette aveu depoui-\'u d'artifice," &c., 
 the applause was immense, though still tributed by the pit 
 and galleries only. The receipts of the house suffice to show 
 its emptiness: on the first night that Rachel played in the 
 " Horaces," that is, on the night of her first debut, the amount 
 taken was 753.05 francs; "Cinna" brought 558.80 francs; 
 "Andromaque," 373.20 francs. And yet, within five months 
 from that time, on the sixth occasion that she played " Ca- 
 mille," on the 10th of November of the same year, the receipts 
 amounted to G124 francs 25 centimes! 
 
 In this dearth of competent judges that attended the advent
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 33 
 
 of her who was to insure a brilliant though transitory resur- 
 rection to the muse of classical tragedy, we must record one 
 exception — an exception that was not without its influence. 
 This was Doctor Veron, the self-elected Mcecenas of the young 
 French litterateurs. We will give, in the doctor's oy^-n words, 
 the impression then made on his very sensitive and enthusi- 
 astic organization by her who was predestined to make so deep 
 a one on his heart. The commencement is in the approved 
 style of romance. 
 
 " On a fine summer evening — June 12th, 1838 — in my 
 search after shade and solitude — shade and solitude may be 
 found even in Paris by him who seeketh diligently — I entered 
 the Theatre Frangais. It was about eight o'clock, and I con- 
 stituted the tifth person in the orchestra seats. My attention 
 was drawn to the stage by a strange and exceedingly express- 
 ive countenance, a prominent brow, a dark eye, deep set and 
 full of fire ; this head was set on a figure which, though thin, 
 was not devoid of a certain elegance of attitude, motion, and 
 gesture. A voice clear, sympathetic, finely toned, and, above 
 all, cleverly managed, roused my mind, which at that moment 
 was more inclined to indolence than to admiration." With 
 the exception of the eyes, which are not at all " full of fire," 
 but, on the contrary, resemble two dead-black spots of ink un- 
 der the cavernous brows, the doctor, diving into the depths of 
 his memory, then recalls a confused vision of that singular 
 countenance, seen in the rule of" La Vendecnne" at the Gym- 
 nase ; he remembers a young girl, meanly dressed and coarsely 
 shoed, who, being questioned before him in the green-room as 
 to what she did there, replied, much to his surprise, in a deep 
 bass voice, " I am pursuing my studies." 
 
 The susceptible doctor, who acknowledges that with him 
 there is no middle course between admiration and abhorrence, 
 became from that evening a passionate admirer of Mademoi- 
 selle Kachel, whom he already pronounced a little prodigy. 
 "When," said he to a friend, whom he was endeavoring to 
 inoculate with his ardent enthusiasm, " the twelve or fifteen 
 hundred men of wit, who constitute public opinion in Paris, 
 shall have heard and appreciated her, that child will be the 
 glory and fortune of ' la Come'die Fran^aise.' " 
 
 B2
 
 34 MEJIOIKS OF KACIIEL. 
 
 Three montlis elapsed, during which the debutante acted in 
 succession all the stock pieces and acquired the stage practice 
 she might have lacked hitherto; but from the 12th of June 
 to the 9th of September not a word was said of her in the 
 Dchats that had been once so loud in her praise. Jules Janin, 
 who held the sceptre of criticism in that paper, was absent 
 from Paris, and in the interim it was wielded by Frederic 
 Soulie, the most noted opponent of classic tragedy, and who, 
 therefore, could see no merit in the interpreter of Corneille and 
 Racine. 
 
 Meanwhile the autumn was approaching, and the theatre- 
 going public began to return to the capital. Jules Janin, who 
 had been spending some time in Italy, made his appearance in 
 the beginning of September. To the inquiries of his friends 
 as to what he had seen, he answered, somewhat in the style 
 of Sir Charles Coldstream in " Used up," " Nothing worth 
 mentioning ; Rome, Naples, Baia, Pompeii, the old shades of 
 antiquity. And what have you got new in Paris ?" "Noth- 
 ing," was the reply, " unless it be a little debutante at the 
 Theatre Fran(;ais — an odd little mortal who makes a singular 
 impression. If you have nothing better to do, go and see the 
 little wretch ; though she is a perfect fright, it is worth your 
 while to see her once." 
 
 The sentence thus lightly passed on Rachel's outward ap- 
 pearance was exceedingly unjust, for though at the time she 
 was no beauty, and from a distance was seen at great disad- 
 vantage, she was far from ugly. The features were too deli- 
 cate for stage effect, their peculiar charm being lost on the 
 spectators unless within a few paces. The coal-black eyes, 
 under the influence of intense passion, seemed to retreat under 
 the jutting forehead, and were tl^pn supposed to be very small. 
 Her greatest deficiency at that epoch was in her figure, Avhich, 
 under the pressure of sudden growth, had lengthened without 
 having as yet acquired fullness and roundness of contour. 
 There remained none of the angularity and scragginess of for- 
 mer days, while habit of the stage had imparted grace and 
 ease. She resembled a frail reed ready to bend at the slight- 
 est breath. 
 
 Tire omnipotent critic finally consented to waste an hour in
 
 MEMOIRS OF UACIIEL. 35 
 
 hearing the " little frvjht:' At the end of the first act he had 
 allowed that "there was something very extraordinary in the 
 girl." At tlie close of the second he was in a perfect trans- 
 port of admiration. " You ask me," he exclaimed, " what 
 wonders I have seen in Italy, where every thing has been de- 
 Bcribed scores of times ; and you tell me there is nothing in 
 Paris worth seeing, where, in truth, you have a new and per- 
 fect wonder. 1 went abroad to find antiquity dead and crum- 
 bling into dust ; I return here to tind it full of life and soul, 
 embodied in yonder frail reed, &c., &c., &c." On the follow- 
 ing Monday the J'cuilkton of the Debats, redolent with enthusi- 
 asm from beginning to end, revealed to the world the wondrous 
 creature whose existence it had hitherto ignored. Eight days 
 after, the receipts began to tell in tbe treasury of the Theatre 
 Fran^ais ; witliin a fortnight, the fashionable absentees were 
 hastily quitting their chateaux to Avitness in Paris the dra- 
 matic revolution operated by the young Jewess. Without seek- 
 ing to detract from merit too universally acknowledged not to 
 be real, it must be ow-ned that so sudden a triumph was more 
 the work of what in France is emphatically denominated La 
 Clique than the result of that merit. To Jules Janin belongs the 
 credit of having in the space of a week turned the tide of for- 
 tune and placed this new idol on the pedostal. She might in 
 time have climbed alone, but by him she was lifted there at once. 
 Mr. Granier de Cassagnac was at this time publishing in 
 "La Presse" a series of highly interesting and curious articles 
 on the Classic Drama, in which he emitted, supporting them 
 with admirable reasons, the most extraordinary opinions. 
 Among his Quixotic attempts was one which, had it succeed- 
 ed, would have completely reversed the inise en scene now adopt- 
 ed : the talented critic insisted that the tragedies of Eacine 
 and Corneille should be brought on the stage with the cos- 
 tumes in vogue at the time they were written ; that Achilles 
 and Julius Ca?sar should appear in flowing wig and small 
 sword, doublet and hose, and Andromaque and Berenice in 
 the brocade gowns of the reign of Louis XIV. He held the 
 Greek and Roman dresses designed by David, and first intro- 
 duced by Talma, to be perfectly absurd, ridiculous, and out of 
 place, especially those of the Roman women.
 
 3G MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 " Can any thing," he exclaims, " be less picturesque than 
 that immense woolen or muslin cocoon, with a woman in the 
 midst, whose feet, and even whose hands, are invisible? Be- 
 sides, the dress of the Romans underwent changes, and in the 
 reign of Tiberius, the Greek fashions were adopted for furni- 
 ture as well as for garments. Sumptuary laws also regulated 
 the dress of magistrates and citizens, of men and of women, 
 and prescribed different forms and colors, according to the age, 
 the functions, and rank of the wearer. An actor is not dress- 
 ed in character as a Roman merely because his legs are bare, 
 his hair cut short, and that he wears a few yards of flannel on 
 his back." 
 
 Though the arguments of IMr. Granier de Cassagnac caused 
 no revolution in modern theatricals, his opinion on the talent 
 and abilities of actors had equal weight with that of the elo- 
 quent partisan of the antagonistic school, nor did he withhold 
 the meed of his praise from the young debutante. His praise 
 was much less enthusiastic than that of Jules Janin, but no 
 less valuable ; and though at times tempered even to frigidity 
 by the predilections of the critic for the modern school of drama, 
 it was accompanied by most judicious suggestions. His com- 
 mendations and strictures may be gathered from the following 
 specimens. 
 
 "That which in our opinion particularizes Mademoiselle 
 Rachel is that her enunciation is simple, pure, and sustained. 
 Each word falls distinctly and harmoniously on the car, with- 
 out the loss of a syllable. The gesture naturally accords with 
 tlie voice. A noble elocution is always accomjianied by a dig- 
 nified motion, and when the lips mumble, the arms are equally 
 faulty in their action. 
 
 " As for saying that Mademoiselle Rachel is a prodigy, that 
 we can not do. She acts well one scene out of three, and that 
 is in itself a great deal. In her manner there is evidently 
 much that is her own, and that is good; but she has also 
 many faults which she has acquired from others. She as yet 
 bawls too much, stamps too much, and goes in and out too 
 sharply — all faults for which she is indebted to her venerable 
 teachers of traditional acting. It is clear that much of her 
 play is the second edition of Mr. Sanson's." — Feuilkton de 
 la Prefise, September 23, 1838.
 
 MEMOIRS OF UACUEL. 37 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Enthusiasm of the Public. — ^Louis Philippe and Rachel. — Royal jNIunifi- 
 cencc in past and present Times. — An Increase of Salary. — System 
 of Starring and its ill Effects. — Monime. — Behind the Curtains ; La 
 Rue Traversiere. — A Step upward in private Life. — Peace broken 
 between the Sodetaires and the Pet of the Public. — Bajazet ; a crit- 
 ical Moment. — Reminiscences of Mademoiselle Mars. — Artistic Map- 
 nanimity and Vanity 37 
 
 "While severe critics thus deliberately weighed the merits 
 and demerits of the artiste and her style of acting, the effect 
 of that style on the public was electric, and few paused to an- 
 alyze causes or cavil at details. The enthusiasm excited by 
 Kachel repeatedly found an eloquent interpreter in Jules 
 Janin : " This poor child, pale, slender, and ill-fed, on whom 
 ancient tragedy leans like blind and bloody tEdipus on An- 
 tigone, alone suffices to bring crowds to the lately deserted 
 The'atre Frangais The task of resuscitating this glori- 
 ous body ; of recalling the illustrious exiles ; of cleaning the 
 Augean stables of their literary rubbish ; of restoring life, 
 thought, motion, passion, interest, to the imperishable master- 
 pieces that, for lack of an interpreter, for lack of that spark 
 of sacred fire which emanates from the soul and lights the 
 glance, were dying — this was indeed an immense task ; and 
 when we reflect that it is undertaken by a child, ignorant of 
 the things of this world, who knows nothing either o^poetiy, 
 of history, of the passions she delineates, or even of the lan- 
 guage she speaks, we admire and wonder, and we ask how it 
 is that a task deemed impracticable should have been accom- 
 plished with such apparent ease and by so weak an instru- 
 ment. The reason is that this child possesses that which is 
 superior to science — inspiration. She brought with her at 
 her birth the something divine, mens divinior, that feeds poetry. 
 Her very ignorance was of more use to her than study ; had 
 she realized the extent of her undertaking, how thick was the 
 layer of ashes that concealed tlie spark she was to reanimate
 
 38 5IEM0IKS OF RACHEL. 
 
 with her breath, had she known how dead was the corpse to 
 which she was uniting her timid and sickly sixteenth year, 
 she would, certes, have recoiled, and forsaken the work. 
 
 " Fortunately, she saw not the danger ; she rushed into it 
 with dauntless brow; she put her trust in the great masters 
 whom none of those around her trusted; she did not despair of 
 the master-pieces insulted by the present generation ; her very 
 boldness carried her through ; her faith saved her, her natural 
 good sense preserved her from all declamation. She had con- 
 quered her domain ; she had done more than conquer it, she 
 had discovered it, and now reigned there a sovereign." 
 
 We have left behind us the trials and vicissitudes of Rachel's 
 early youth, and the succeeding pages record an uninterrupted 
 series of triumphs, varied only by pleasing incidents in public 
 life, and by no very severe heart-aches in the private circle. 
 
 On the 1st of October, 1838, the theatre, completely cram- 
 med — every seat having been taken beforehand — drew be- 
 tween 5 and GOOO francs. The triumphant days of Talma and 
 Mile. Mars when at the zenith of their fame were even equaled. 
 The princes of the house of Orleans all came in succession to 
 see the phenomenon. The duchess testified her approbation 
 by the gift of a bracelet — a gold chain clasped by a cushion 
 bearing a dog. This simple gift would, a few years later, have 
 appeared to the spoiled actress but a poor token ; but it was 
 then a great thing for her, the rather, too, as it was not cus- 
 tomary for the family then on the throne to take any notice 
 of debutantes. The sovereign himself, who never went to any 
 theatre, honored the star by going to see her in the part of 
 Emilie*\n " Cinna." A judicious friend took care that the 
 king should meet the heroine as he passed out. His majesty, 
 taking her trembling hand in his, assured her very kindly that 
 he had been much pleased with her performance, and would 
 be glad to see her again. Bashful and confused in attempting 
 to express her gratitude. Mademoiselle Eachel addressed the 
 king as Monsieur. When subsequently reminded of her mis- 
 take by her companion, Madame Tousez, she merrily excused 
 it, saying that she was so accustomed to converse with the 
 Greek and Roman monarchs, she had neglected to learn how 
 to speak to those of modern date.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 30 
 
 During preceding reigns, an actress whose performance had 
 attracted the notice and received the approbation of royalty 
 ■would have been honored with magnificent testimonials of that 
 approbation. From the gracious Marie Antoinette she would 
 have received several costly dresses, to which Madame Ade- 
 laide (the daughter of Louis XV.) would have added a set of 
 jewels. The generous Josephine would have sent, through 
 one of her chamberlains, a magnificent tiara ; Queen Hortense, 
 an Indian shawl ; and, certcs, the Emperor Napoleon would 
 not have failed to send a page bearing a present gift of five 
 hundred louis, and a deed of pension of at least six thousand 
 francs. We have recorded the simple offering of the Duchess 
 of Orleans. On the day after the king's visit to the theatre, 
 a footman in the royal livery brought [Mademoiselle Rachel a 
 present of one thousand francs from his majesty. Times were 
 changed ; the court of the citizen king was less lavish or less 
 rich than that of his predecessors on the throne, and the royal 
 gift was held to be munificent ; it Avas, moreover, the first that 
 had been bestowed on an actor or actress since the advent of 
 Louis Philippe. 
 
 Great indeed must have been the astonishment of Rachel 
 herself at this unexpected and extraordinary success. It was 
 not as though she had won the favor of an intelligent public 
 at her first appearance. She had been playing for months 
 with the negative success resulting from the applause of the 
 herd of low and unappreciating co-religionists, who had en- 
 couraged her more from esj)rit de corps than real admiration, 
 and she found herself transferred suddenly into another sphere, 
 and receiving the homage and plaudits of the most refined, 
 difllcult, and exacting audience in the world. 
 
 On the 1st of October her engagement of three years at 4000 
 francs per annum was voluntarily canceled by the grateful 
 committee of management, and renewed at the rate of 8000 
 francs per annum. Until the year 1840, this was deemed 
 enormous, as the extravagant salaries now paid to favorite 
 artists had never yet been heard of, and the system of starring 
 and the exacting demands of those petted autocrats were un- 
 known. The invention belongs exclusively to the English and 
 Americans, and has proved a baneful one to l)oth the public
 
 40 ■ MEMOIRS OF KACIIEL. 
 
 and the managers. Art itself has been a loser by this pitiful 
 system of attracting and concentrating the attention of the pub- 
 lic on one person at the expense of all the other actors, who 
 are depressed and impoverished in order that one lucky indi- 
 vidual may be enriched and spoiled. The result is the ruin 
 of managers, the failure of enterprise, and the death of art, 
 which lives, not by one, but by all. 
 
 Shortly after, " Mithridates" was revived for Eachel, who, 
 in the part o^ Monime, elicited new bursts of admiration. The 
 committee presented her with its first gift, consisting of all the 
 plays in which she had appeared, each separately and splen- 
 didly boimd, with her name and the date of her first perform- 
 ance in the part inscribed in golden letters on the back. Short- 
 ly after, the committee presented to the gentle and sublime 
 Monime a tiara of gold and precious stones, thus splendidly 
 recording the triumph of the queen even when she falls in the 
 snare laid for her by the wily King of Pontus. 
 
 Though the public thus graciously received Mademoiselle 
 Eachel's Monime, critics were not unanimous in its praise, and 
 Granier de Cassagnac was particularly severe: '■'■Mithridates 
 
 was ridiculouslij i^layed Mademoiselle Rachel uttered fifteen 
 
 lines decently, and all the rest of the part in the coldest and most 
 colorless manner." — Feuilleton of ''La Pressc," October 7, 1838. 
 
 While one of the writers of "La Presse" thus sweepingly 
 anathematized the style of the actress, another, and one of no 
 little influence in the literaiy, world, was as extreme in com- 
 mendations. The feuilleton of the 18tli of December, signed 
 by the Vicomte de Launay, the pseudonym of the gifted wife of 
 the editor, extols the talent of Mademoiselle Rachel in extrava- 
 gant terms. The enthusiasm, however, finds an explanation 
 in the feuilleton of the 29th, signed by tlie same nom de ]:>lume: 
 " Mademoiselle Eachel was last Tuesday sublime in ' Bajazet.' 
 The progress she makes is marvelous. Among the on dits, it 
 is rumored that Madame Emile de Girardin has just finished 
 a. tragedy entitled ' Judith,' written expressly for Mademoiselle 
 Eachel." 
 
 At this stage of her successful career Rachel was living at 
 No. 37 Eue Traversiere St. Honore, a street since called Eue 
 de la Fontaine Molierc, and the contrast presented by her pub-
 
 MEMOIES OP RACHEL. 41 
 
 lie and private life was curious enough. At home, she who, 
 in the part of a tragic princess, had some hours before been 
 deluged with bouquets and applauded to the skies, resembled 
 Cinderella after her escape from the ball, surrounded by all 
 the attributes of poverty. The dwelling itself was scarcely 
 larger than the cobbler's stall, 
 
 "That sen-cd him for parlor, for kitchen, and hall," 
 and consisted of a dining-room containing a table and a few 
 chairs, the bed-room of the father and mother, and a kitchen, 
 of which Rachel had charge, and which was kept scrupulously 
 neat and in excellent order. In the kitchen was a steep stair- 
 case leading to an attic in which were three small beds; in 
 one of these slept Rosalie and Charlotte, in the other Raphael, 
 and in the third Rachel with, the little Emilia, then three years 
 old. In this mean bed, used by day as a sofa, the star that 
 nightly drew all the denizens of the world of fashion to one 
 common centre was wont to con the splendid creations of Ra- 
 cine and Corneille, developing that marvelous faculty of inter- 
 preting each master-piece which astonished as much as it de- 
 lighted the public. Those who were then on terms of inti- 
 macy wi:'i her remember her in the little kitchen preparing 
 the vegetables for the jwt mi feu, chatting meanwhile with the 
 friend who had happened to look in, and now and then inter- 
 rupting her culinary cares to still the noise of the younger 
 children, over whom she exercised a maternal surveillance in 
 the absence of the mother. In all things, from the most tri- 
 fling to the most important, Rachel preserved the same quiet, 
 grave, even dignified aspect ; and it was something akin to the 
 ludicrous to see her put down the carrot she was scraping ia 
 order to bestow the most unpoetical, the most matter-of-fact 
 of all corrections on the refractory little sister, with the same 
 unmoved, nay, almost solemn expression of countenance, then 
 return to her occupation and the subject she was discussing, 
 as though the interlude had been a part of the performance 
 announced in the programme. There was no explosion of 
 anger, no violent scolding ; the whipping was by rule, and 
 constituted part of a system. 
 
 Meanwhile the success of Rachel was daily on the increase. 
 The most aristocratic circles were anxious to have her appear in
 
 42 BIEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 their salons; but this her severe and judicious professor stout- 
 ly opposed. He interdicted all soirees, all readings in private 
 circles, alleging that Rachel owed it to the public and to her 
 own fame to devote all her time to study. An exception 
 which opened the door to all other invitations was finally made 
 in favor of a Polish countess, who pleaded that her husband, 
 confined to his chair by continual indisposition, could not go 
 and hear the young actress on the stage. An elegant tur- 
 quoise bracelet clasped with a knot of small diamonds was the 
 token of gratitude of the hostess. The pleasure with which 
 Rachel received and wore this gift far surpassed that which 
 she has since felt in the many splendid ones presented to her. 
 Then it was the joy of the girl, delighted with an ornament. 
 A far less innocent feeling was that with which in after years 
 she greeted every addition to her casket. 
 
 The precedent of the Polish countess was urged by those 
 whom it was policy not to offend; another dramatic soiree 
 and another present — a turquoise serpent — Avas the result. 
 The rule once broken, there was a perfect inundation, and the 
 teacher's advice was wholly disregarded. It may have been 
 quite as beneficial for her to go into society as to study in the 
 solitude of her attic. The actor should study human nature 
 in all its phases, and the knowledge acquired in books is turned 
 to better account when tested on living types. The proof of 
 this is that the talent of Rachel, far from fallina: off or remain- 
 ing at a stand-still after her introduction into society, con- 
 tinued on the increase until it reached its complete develop- 
 ment. 
 
 Rachel had now been successful in six of the most brilliant 
 tragedies of the classic scene ; she had acted Camille in the 
 "Horaces;" Emilie in " Cinna ;" Hcrmione in " Andro- 
 raaque;" ^me?ia/(;?e in " Tancrede ;" Eriphik in " Iphigenie en 
 Aulide ;" and Monime in " Mithridates." On the 23d of No- 
 vember the play-bills announced "Bajazet." 
 
 It was while this tragedy was in rehearsal that the socic- 
 taires of the Theatre rran(;'ais and the partisans of Mademoi- 
 selle Rachel commenced the series of complaints and recrim- 
 inations that for some time divided newspaper writers and the 
 public into two parties. The Theatre FranQais, which, as al-
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 43 
 
 ready mentioned, had been declining so rapidly as to have 
 reached the brink of irretrievable ruin at the advent of Ka- 
 chcl, was now, thanks to her popularity, in a most prosjjerous 
 vein. The actress who for two months had played to a " beg- 
 garly array of empty boxes," and to her Israelite friends in 
 the pit and upper tier, now brought into the house the unpre- 
 cedented sum of GOOO francs on every night she played. The 
 net receipts for the month of October had amounted to 100,000 
 francs ; the increase in the receipts of the theatre amounted to 
 from Go to 70,000 francs. Though a large portion of the prof- 
 its went into the pockets of the socictaives, the latter were not 
 the less disposed to find fault with the management, against 
 Avhich they brought the charge of sacrificing the futui'e pros- 
 perity of the theatre to that which could only prove a mo- 
 mentary fit of enthusiasm on the part of the public. They 
 urged — and the event proved they were right — that Rachel 
 would soon manifest the most unbounded pretensions ; that 
 she was only enriching them for the present to ruin them aft- 
 erward ; that the precedent would prove the bane of the man- 
 agement. 
 
 It has been shown that Rachel entered the Theatre Fran- 
 ^ais in March, 1838, at a salary of 4000 francs per annum for 
 three years, and that the management, in the month of Oc- 
 tober, very liberally agreed to cancel this contract, and renew 
 it at a salary of 8000 francs per annum up to April 1st, 1840. 
 There was a stipulated forfeit of 50,000 francs in case of non- 
 fulfillment of the engagement, and the actress was to provide 
 her own dresses. The management, however, presented her 
 with three of the most expensive of her costumes, with a sum 
 of 1000 francs in November, and another similar sum in De- 
 cember. 
 
 No sooner were these advantages obtained than more were 
 demanded by the rapacious father of Mademoiselle Rachel. 
 "While the daughter studied her splendid Greek and Roman 
 characters, and conveyed to worshiping thousands the noblest 
 sentiments of the human heart, the prudent papa studied the 
 labyrinthine mazes of the Code Civil, and, becoming learned in 
 the law, found out that engagements contracted by minors are 
 easily annulled. Both father and daughter came to the satis-
 
 44 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 factory conclusion that glory was a marketable commodity, 
 only to be valued by what it brought in ready money. 
 
 The first demand for his daughter was an increase of salary, 
 raising it to the sum received by a Councilor of State — 12,000 
 francs per annum. In 1839, in addition to the fixed salary 
 of 12,000 francs, he demanded fi-om 300 to 500 francs perqui- 
 sites ifeux) each time she played, according as the receipts of 
 the theatre varied from 4000 to 5000 francs and upward — the 
 title o{ sodctaire with a full share, with 12,000 francs from the 
 subvention, and four months conge every year : the whole claim 
 might be computed at the moderate sum of 00,000 francs per 
 annum. 
 
 The management was thunderstruck. It was currently re- 
 ported that when Rachel went to take her customary lesson 
 of Sanson, her teacher, much astonished that he should have 
 had the polishing of so high-priced a jewel, inquired if, indeed, 
 she had manifested such pretensions as rumor had brought to 
 his ears. To this Rachel coolly replied that, according to the 
 Code Civil, she was at liberty to cancel her engagements and 
 stipulate for better terms. Sanson indignantly exclaimed that 
 she needed no lessons of him, as he taught declamation, not 
 chicanery, and that he was not in the habit of associating with 
 those who sought the measure of their honor and delicacy 
 within the limits of the Code Civil. " Your talent," added the 
 teacher, dashing to the ground a little statuette of Rachel, " will 
 be shattered and annihilated like that image." He concluded 
 by motioning his pupil to the door with a " Sortez /" that she 
 might have copied with success in the part oOioxane. 
 
 While savans, philosophers, men of letters, critics, and en- 
 thusiastic crowds of youths from the colleges and schools — 
 the rising generation that constituted the hope of France — sat 
 entranced, listening with beating hearts and glistening eyes to 
 tho grand Alexandrines of Corneille ; watching on the varying 
 brow of the actress the expression of the passion she uttered, 
 and themselves passing from pity to rage, from love to hatred, 
 from indignant scorn to satiated vengeance, as her eloquent 
 interpretation bore them along — she, the pythoness delivering 
 the oracles of the god of light, drew her inspiration from the 
 golden calf, the god of her forefathers, and inwardly computed 
 the metallic value of enthusiasm.
 
 MEMOIUS OF KAGIIEL. 45 
 
 A portion of the press, siding with the societaires, loudly ex- 
 claimed against these rapacious exactions. Even Jules Janin 
 repented having created Rachel, and talked of demolishing {aic) 
 his pen-work. 
 
 It was too late, however ; the public had formed an opin- 
 ion, and was resolved to stand by it. In the heat of the quar- 
 rel, the announcement of " Bajazet" gave it a new stimulus, 
 and afforded an opportunity for the manifestation of the an- 
 tagonistic feelings of each party. On the night of Rachel's 
 first appearance in the difficult part of Itoxane, October 23d, 
 symptoms of hostility were evident throughout the house, and 
 her failure was confidently predicted. In the beginning of 
 her career, Rachel, playing from intuition, and impelled by the 
 irresistible attraction that led her on the stage, was uncon- 
 cerned and fearless. When, however, the tide of success had 
 set in, by what may appear a contradiction, but one which the 
 analyzer of the human heart will readily understand, she be- 
 came exceedingly timid whenever she was to appear in a new 
 part. She had now tasted the intoxicating joys of triumph, 
 and was the more inclined to dread a defeat that might wither 
 her laurels. Thus it was that on first nights she was never 
 as perfect as on the succeeding ones when she felt sure of pub- 
 lic support. 
 
 With these feelings, the effect produced upon her by the icy 
 coldness with Avhich she was received Avhen she appeared on 
 this critical occasion may be readily conceived. The very Ro- 
 mans paid by her adversaries sat with immovable hands. The 
 stifled laughter, the whisperings in the boxes, the anxious looks 
 of friends, and the hostile ones of foes, all contributed to shake 
 her courage when most she needed it — in that stumbling-block 
 of genius — in Roxane ! Her tongue was almost paralyzed, her 
 breath was choked, and for the first time she was completely 
 frightened. 
 
 Envy was justified and triumphant ; the star had proved 
 but a fleeting meteor ; she could play but such parts as were 
 drilled into her, and even then she required long study ; she 
 was but an automaton, «S:c., &c., &c. 
 
 But though on the first night the woman had sunk dismay- 
 ed at sight of the imfricndly brows, on the second the artiste
 
 46 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 
 
 had conquered her terrors, and again taken her place of su- 
 premacy with the dignified assurance of conscious genius. 
 Abjuring Olympus and its pagan divinities, she trod with firm 
 step the volcanic soil of the harem, and with admirable entente 
 presented the vivid picture of the struggle between love and 
 ambition. She gave in the difficult rule of the absolute sul- 
 tana the most complete personification of the despotism, the 
 stern, pitiless politics of the vast empire of the world at that 
 period, joined to the most truly feminine embodiment of love. 
 With Amurath she exhibited the remorseless, unflinching de- 
 termination of the Eastern male despot ; with Bajazet, the gen- 
 tle, yielding affection of woman, whatever be her clime ; as the 
 duped lover, the angry passions of both sexes. 
 
 The second night her success was absolute ; on the third 
 there was a riot at the doors to obtain admittance, while the 
 scene within the house beggared description. Every one seem- 
 ed possessed by a frantic admiration, which was vented in a 
 storm of applause. The ovation thus tributed contrasted with 
 the chill, sulky aspect the same audience presented on the fore- 
 going night. 
 
 But, though envy was foiled, it was not disarmed. The 
 critics caviled at her peculiar delivery of certain passages, 
 more especially that of the famous " Sortezf in the second 
 act, when Roxane offers the throne to Bajazet, and the latter 
 refuses it, alleging specious reasons in order to conceal the real 
 one — his love for Atalide. While Rachel listened to his an- 
 swei', the rage she refrained from uttering was most vividly 
 depicted on the expressive countenance ; when he had ended, 
 her look was such as no other woman could assume : it spoke 
 not so much the fury of the offended woman, loud, stormy, 
 tearing passion to rags, as that of the insulted sovereign, deep, 
 concentrated, implacable, ferocious in its very calmness. Ba- 
 jazet had evidently scorned the love of a tigress, not a dove. 
 With extended hand she motioned him to the door, and with 
 her harsh voice uttered the " Sortcz /" that brought down en- 
 thusiastic applause from judges of refined taste. In that little 
 word the sentence was signed, the dumb executioner summon- 
 ed, the death knelled. No rant, no violent gesture, no loud 
 burst of passion accompanied it ; the utterance was calm as
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 47 
 
 tliat of a god delivering the fiat of fate — too calm in its grand 
 eloquence to please the multitude. 
 
 It was on this occasion that the charge that she had no 
 heart, no feminine softness, no real feeling, was brought against 
 Rachel. " Roxane,'' urged the critics, " is a woman before she 
 is a sultana, and, as a woman should give full scope to anger 
 and jealousy, she should throw herself, dagger in hand, on Ba- 
 jazet, yet ere she strikes be disarmed by a look ; then, and as 
 though to guard against her own weakness, command his ab- 
 sence with the ' Sortez P " This was a most lame and impo- 
 tent interpretation of the heroine's temper. It was the ex- 
 pression of feeling of a commonplace character, not that of an 
 exceptional being — not that of the proud sultana, whose con- 
 sciousness of power controls and guides her impetuous nature 
 — of Roxane, who has mutes who Idll at her bidding. Had 
 Roxane herself touched a dagger, it would have been to strike 
 at once. Still criticism would not be gainsaid, and for years 
 the obnoxious rendering of the ^'' Sortez f was harped upon 
 and discussed, until, weary of the struggle, Rachel gave up her 
 own conception of the part, and adopted that which was forced 
 upon her : it was less true to nature, and therefore more pleas- 
 ing to perverted tastes. 
 
 A little incident took place at this time which is worth re- 
 cording as a manifestation of liberal feeling but too rare among 
 artists. Mademoiselle Mars was still on the stage, though the 
 fickle public, faithless to its former idol, frequently reminded 
 her that it Avas time for her to retire from before the foot- 
 lights, whose glare revealed but too plainly the ravages of 
 time. Accustomed to the splendid galaxy of a past reign, to 
 a Duchesnois, a Rancourt, a Georges, playing with a Talma 
 to the enthusiastic delight of an audience of crowned heads, 
 JNIademoiselle Mars, herself, perhaps, the most brilliant of those 
 stars, was rather incredulous with regard to the merits of the 
 planet then in the ascendant ; she chose to judge by her own 
 eyes and ears of the justice of the plaudits so lavishly bestow- 
 ed. During the first act — the piece was " Les Horaces" — the 
 ex-qucen of tragedy listened coldly ; accustomed to the style 
 of former heroines, she pronounced Camille rather loeak. But 
 at the fourth act, while the public was warmly applauding,
 
 48 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 
 
 some of the flatterers who surrounded Mademoiselle Mars, 
 thinking to soothe feelings which they imagined must be hurt 
 by the triumph obtained by her young successor, disdainfully 
 echoed the rather weak, adding such derogatory epithets as 
 milk and water, lukewarm, &c., &c. 
 
 " "Would you have her roar like a bull?" exclaimed the in- 
 dignant Mars, full of sympathetic admiration. 
 
 During this season of successive triumphs the " Bourgeois 
 Gentilhomme" was revived. In this comedy there is a scene 
 in which all the j^c'sonel of the company, from the reigning 
 favorite down to the candle-snufFer, is bound to appear in or- 
 der to make up the show. All march on and off the stage in 
 double file, and the public, recognizing its favorites, applauds 
 each more or less warmly. Mademoiselle Mars, not being able 
 to endure the fatigue of the costume required (a Turkish one) 
 for the ceremony of the Mamamonchi, wore a Louis XVI. 
 dress, and Mademoiselle Eachel the Oriental one of Roxane. 
 The public, aware that the latter was coming, broke out at 
 her entrance into a phrensy of applause that lasted long after 
 her disappearance. When the curtain fell, the declining and 
 the rising stars were both clamorously recalled. Mademoiselle 
 Mars was the first to enter, with that aristocratic air, that 2mr 
 sang look that would have been deemed haughty had it not 
 been tempered by the exceeding grace of the woman and fin- 
 ished artiste. She acknowledged the loud acclamations of the 
 public with a slight and gracious rather than grateful inclina- 
 tion, and a look of conscious desert, as though she would have 
 said, " I thank you, good friends, for myself and the young 
 thing who follows me." 
 
 She felt what her brow expressed, that she had come to re- 
 ceive a tribute due to her. Rachel, on tlie contrary, allowing 
 Mademoiselle Mars to precede her a few paces, thus tacitly 
 acknowledging her supremacy, bowed with grateful humility, 
 as though thankful for a gift. This difference was not studied 
 in either case ; it was innate, and the reason may be found, 
 perchance, in the annals of the two races : one had reached 
 its supremacy ; it was the part of the other to bend and cringe 
 to every oppressor. 
 
 Apropos of this procession, it was subsequently seen that
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 49 
 
 Kachel's humility did not make her forget her interests. In 
 the agreement made with the Theatre Fran^ais, Mademoiselle 
 Rachel was entitled to a perquisite of 500 francs for every 
 time she chose to appear more than twice a week. She took 
 care, therefore, to join the procession in " Le Bourgeois Gen- 
 tilhomme," on every occasion claiming the 500 francs for this 
 mute performance of a few minutes. The committee, how- 
 ever, deeming this too expensive a walk across the stage, dis- 
 puted the payment. From that time the trarjcdienne declined 
 appearing in the show, even on the occasion of Moliere's birth- 
 day. No pay, no walk. 
 
 CHAPTER W. 
 
 1839. 
 
 A Step higher in private Life. — The Maimed Student and a Scene in 
 "Les Horaces." — The Friendship of the Great. — L'Abbaye aux 
 Bois. — Madame Recamier. — The Jewish Actress and a Diguitaiy of 
 the Church. — A Stranger to Venus. — Rachel in Comedy. — " Esther." 
 
 The prosperous state of their finances now enabled the 
 Felix family to indulge in the comforts, if not the luxuries of 
 life. In the winter of 1839, the mean lodgings they had hith- 
 erto occupied were exchanged for better ones on a second floor 
 of the Passao-e Verot Dodat. This apartment Rachel's earn- 
 ings enabled them to furnish respectably, and she had a room 
 to herself for the first time. The chief ornament of this room, 
 which was long, lofty, and narrow, consisted in the trophies 
 she had won. To the three curtain poles of the bed were hung 
 three garlands decorated with ribbons, bearing devices em- 
 broidered in gold recording her success. Other similar crowns 
 were hung on the walls. The room of her parents was next 
 to her own, and Avas furnished in a manner that to them was 
 quite luxurious, yet they took possession of it as though ac- 
 customed to it all their life. 
 
 It was about this time that Rachel introduced into the role 
 of Camille the by-play that is so effective in the second scene 
 of the fourth act, when Valcre is describing the combat of the 
 Horatii and the Curiatii. The following incident suggested 
 
 C
 
 50 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 the improvement. The actress, who was slightly indisposed, 
 had remained in her chamber one morning, when she heard a 
 caller in the salon. Curious to know who it was, she rose and 
 went close to the door, through which she distinctly heard the 
 voice, and recognized it as that of an acquaintance of the fam- 
 ily, a young student of surgery. In answer to the question 
 put by her mother and sisters as to why he had been so long 
 absent, he told a fearful story of some accident, while dissect- 
 ing, that had necessitated the amputation of his hand. Eachel, 
 already ill, was so overcome with horror at this description 
 that she fainted. The noise of her fall brought the family to 
 her "assistance, and she soon recovered. It was then the idea 
 occurred to her that if she, who was not particularly interest- 
 ed in this young man, had been so much impressed by the nar- 
 rative of his accident, how terrible must be the shock on the 
 nerves of one who hears of her lover's death. She remarked 
 to Sanson that when she next played Camille she would intro- 
 duce a new effeot. She did so, and met with great success. 
 As Valere proceeded in his speech, Mademoiselle Eachel listen- 
 ed with the greatest expression of grief and horror depicted on 
 her countenance and in her attitude, and when he amved at 
 the bloody catastrophe she fell senseless. The actor who play- 
 ed Valere, addressing his discourse to old Horace, does not see 
 Camille. Astonished to find himself interrupted by such un- 
 usual tokens of approbation, he fancied he must be particular- 
 ly good that evening, and, excited by this idea, made extraor- 
 dinary efforts to deserve such plaudits, throwing a vast amount 
 of heat and passion in his part, to which no one was listening, 
 so much did the mute acting of Camille engross attention. 
 
 Success seemed to pursue this fortunate family : the man- 
 agement again canceled Eachel's engagement, and renewed it 
 at 20,000 francs per annum. It became the fashion to re- 
 ceive the pet of the public in private circles, and invitations 
 from the highest quarters and rich gifts were of daily occur- 
 rence. Eachel was the rage, and not only the most aristo- 
 cratic French salons, but also the most distinguished foreign 
 residents, made a point of adding the attraction of her pres- 
 ence to their fetes. The actress was the fashionable luxury 
 of the day, and must be had at any cost of money or of pride.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEI-. 51 
 
 Such was the influence of vanity, that some of the nohlcst 
 children of once proud Spain — the Duchess of Berwick and 
 Alba, the Marchioness of Alcanices, the Princess of Anglona, 
 the Countess of Toreno, M. de Roca de Togares, ex-minister 
 of Marine, the Marquis de los Llanos, the Count de la Vega 
 del Pozo, &c., «&;c. — condescended to admit the daughter of the 
 Jew peddler on terms of momentary equality. The high-born 
 Novailles received her in their morning circles, and the duke 
 became her most assiduous adviser, often spending whole even- 
 ings with her. Ministers of state desired her to appoint the 
 day when she would dine with them ; Count Duchatel, min- 
 ister of the interior, presented her with a choice library, and 
 Madame Duchatel was extremely fond of her society. 
 
 In the convent of the Abbaye aux Bois was wont to assem- 
 ble a semi-mundane, semi-mystic circle, composed of some of 
 the most distinguished fragments of the Restoration and of 
 some of the most respected ruins of the Empire, and of which 
 Madame de Re'camier, the celebrated ex-queen of beauty, was 
 the cynosure. This lady, who had survived the charms that 
 had been the envy of her contemporary, Madame de Stael, and 
 the wealth that had given them I'elief, still preserved the ami- 
 ability that had characterized her through life, and which, in 
 her declining years, brought around her the most eminent per- 
 sonages of the day. True to the friendship that had so long 
 existed between them, M. de Chateaubriand continued to visit 
 her, and her alone, even after he had lost the use of his limbs. 
 His faithful valet, Louis, supported him up the stairs, seated 
 him in his arm-chair, and installed him in his favorite corner. 
 Into this refined and fastidious circle Mademoiselle Rachel 
 was freely admitted, and it must be owned that her modest de- 
 meanor and pei'fect tact proved her not unworthy of the hon- 
 or. It has been said that the hope of converting the popu- 
 lar idol of the day contributed materially to the cordiality of 
 her reception. If so, no fault can be found with the feeling ; 
 the public baptism in Notre Dame of the wonderful actress 
 would have been for the Church no mean triumph, and it is 
 probable no eiforts were spared by these faithful votaries to 
 bring about such a result. 
 
 But, though "Hermione" was possessed of the eminently
 
 52 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL, 
 
 Jewish faculty of apparently conforming to the wishes of those 
 whom it was her interest to please, she had, then at least, not 
 the slightest idea of becoming a convert. Under the inspira- 
 tion of her illustrious hosts, she studied the part of Paulim in 
 "Polyeucte;" but, though she uttered before them the "Je 
 crois'' in accents that inspired the most sanguine hopes, she 
 left the ccEnaculum of the Rue de Sevres as much of a Jew- 
 ess as she had entered it. 
 
 At one of the morning literary reunions at the Abbaye aux 
 Bois, Mademoiselle Rachel was reciting to M. de Chateau- 
 briand, at the request of Madame Recamier, passages from the 
 role of " Pauline ;" the actress was on the point of uttering 
 the lines, 
 
 " Mon epoux, en mourant, m'a laisse ses lumieres ; 
 Son sang dont ses bourreaux viennent de me courrir, 
 M'a dessille les yeux et me les vient d'ouvrir 
 
 Je VOIS, JE SAIS, JE CROIS I" 
 
 when the recitation was interrupted by the unexpected visit 
 of the Archbishop of . 
 
 "Monseigneur," said Madame de Recamier, with some slight 
 embarrassment, " permit me to present to your grace Made- 
 moiselle Rachel, who is so obliging as to give us a scene from 
 ' Polyeucte.' " 
 
 " I would infinitely regret," replied the visitor, " having in- 
 terrupted the finest vei'ses of Corneille ; I hope I may be fa- 
 vored also." 
 
 No scruples prevented Rachel from continuing the part of 
 Pauline. She had no hesitation in exclaiming with the con- 
 vert to Christianity, I sec, I know, I believe, before a high digni- 
 tary of the Church. 
 
 When she had concluded, the archbishop was most earnest 
 in his praise. 
 
 "AYe, the ministers of the Most High," added he, "have 
 not often the pleasure of seeing and hearing great artistes ; 
 but I have been thus fortunate twice in my life: in Florence 
 I have heard Madame Malibran sing in a salon, and to Mad- 
 ame Recamier I am indebted for the privilege of hearing 
 Mademoiselle Rachel. The lips that so eloquently utter those 
 magnificent lines must be inspired by a heart filled with the 
 sentiment they express."
 
 MEMOIRS OP RACHEL. 53 
 
 To this, Mademoiselle Rachel, bowing gracefully, replied, 
 " Monseigneur, / believed 
 
 Apropos of these recitationa at the Abbaye aux Bois, Mad- 
 ame Delphine Gay, the celebrated mother of as celebrated a 
 daughter, is reported to have given way to an amusing out- 
 burst of indignation. Returning one morning from a visit to 
 the convent, she threw herself in an arm-chair, exclaiming, 
 
 "Can any one imagine so absurd a thing? Just fancy a 
 parcel of rusty old academicians teaching Rachel to act Plie- 
 dre! Brifault, the greatest stranger to Venus, uttering 
 
 'C'est Venus toute entiere a sa proie attachee I' 
 What can he know of the feelings of the victim of the goddess 
 of love and beauty ?" 
 
 It has been said that Rachel is never so happy as when she 
 can act in coraedy,and especially the soubrettes of Moliere — 
 parts utterly unsuited to her, and in which, however accurate 
 her conception of the character, her hollow, cavernous voice, 
 her tragic gait, gesture, and look, render her unendurable, not 
 to say absurd. In certain dramatic roles she has been greatly 
 applauded ; for instance, in that of Adrienne Lecouvreur, in 
 which she appeared to advantage ; but it was certainly more 
 as a pretty woman than as a finished artiste that she won ad- 
 miration. The success she obtained in Adrienne induced her 
 to extend .her incursions still farther into the domain of Made- 
 moiselle Mars : she played in succession Louise de Lignerolles, 
 Mademoiselle de Belle Isle, Madame Tartuffe, and other roles of 
 the modern drama, in all of which her voice prevented her 
 from attaining to that degree of excellence to which her act- 
 ing would have raised her. 
 
 As to the soubrettes of Moliere, she undertook them on the 
 following occasions : 
 
 In 1844, the theatre of the Odeon, having had a constant 
 run of ill luck, was closed ; but as the public of that quarter 
 of Paris required a theatre, the authorities decided that the 
 management of the The'atre Fran^ais should provide for both 
 theatres, one company doing duty alternately in both houses. 
 Rachel was obliged to take her share in this work. The plan 
 was soon found to entail too great fatigue on the performers 
 on account of the distance between the theatres, and was very 
 soon given up.
 
 54 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 
 
 It was during this period of double duty that Raphael and 
 Rebecca Felix were bi'ought out, the insatiate father exacting, 
 without the shadow of a pretense, that at the very debut of 
 these children, who had never set foot on the stage, a benefit 
 should be granted to them. This unprecedented demand was 
 conceded, much to the displeasure of other members of the 
 company, who saw these young Jews thus unjustly enjoying 
 privileges that time and merit alone obtained for others. In 
 order to draw a crowded house on the benefit night, a tragedy 
 was announced, after which, to increase the attraction, Rachel 
 was to appear in the part of Dorine in " Tartuffe." The pub- 
 lic, curious to see the great tragic actress in two such opposite 
 characters, completely filled the house. The rumor that she 
 excelled in the role of a so%ibrette had been industriously circu- 
 lated ; the disappointment was in proportion to the expecta- 
 tions that had been raised. Rachel was too much a favorite 
 in her own line to meet with very open marks of disapproba- 
 tion in attempting another ; but that the attempt was not a 
 complete failure was solely due to the courteous indulgence 
 of the audience. The language of the saucy, pert little Do- 
 rine, uttered in the deep, sepulchral tones of a Camille calling 
 down the wrath of heaven on the capital of the world, the 
 tragic stride and gesture, constituted a combination of the 
 sublime and the grotesque that sorely tried the patience of the 
 spectators. 
 
 Four years later, on the first of July, in another extra per- 
 formance on the occasion of another benefit of Raphael and 
 Rebecca, the play being " Phedre," followed by a little piece 
 in one act by Marivaux, the play-bills announced that the 
 evening would close with " Le Depit Amoureux," in which 
 Rachel would take the part of Marinette. Once again the im- 
 patience of the public was extreme to see how this genius 
 which had reached its apogee would stand the test in so varied 
 a range. This time the failure was complete and the dissat- 
 isfaction undissembled. When she entered in soubrette cos- 
 tume the applause was perfectly frantic, but she no sooner 
 spoke than it was apparent how much she was out of place in 
 the part, and an icy silence testified the chagrin of the audience. 
 
 On these two occasions only did Rachel ever act the sou-
 
 MEMOIRS OK RACHEI- 55 
 
 brettes, and then to further the interests of her relatives, and 
 gratify a passing caprice rather than from any vocation. 
 
 The only rofe added by Mademoiselle Rachel to her repei'- 
 toire during tho year 1839 was that o^ Esther. To understand 
 in what points she failed in her conception of this character, 
 we must call to mind what the poet intended to delineate 
 when he wrote the part. The female characters of Eacine 
 are exquisite creations. Take them all, from Esther to Bere- 
 nice, from Phcdre to Hermione, not one but is gifted with the 
 melting tenderness that captivates, or with the resistless stormy 
 passion that overwhelms. In his male characters he has not 
 been equally successful ; with the exception of the vehement 
 Orestes and the iron-willed Nero, his heroes are rather weak- 
 brained, and seem cut out for henpecked husbands. In this 
 Racine differs essentially from Corneille, whose male charac- 
 ters are splendid specimens of chivalrous love and valor, while 
 his heroines, with the exception of the noble, the lovely Chi- 
 mhie, are raw-boned viragoes. 
 
 One of Racine's most constant opponents says that the fe- 
 male characters of Racine constitute a wonderful seraglio, 
 where the poet has assembled all the glowing visions of his 
 fancy, all the earnest passions of his soul, clothed in celestial 
 forms. He has divided them into two distinct groups, both 
 equally bewitching. On one side we have Aricie, Andromaque, 
 Iphigcnie, Berenice, Atalide, Esther, and Jimie, the women who 
 love and who die ; on the other, Hcrmione, Phcdre, Eoxaue, 
 Emilie, the women who love and who kill ; here the dove, 
 there the lioness. Of these two natures, so diametrically op- 
 posite in feeling and expression, though actuated by the same 
 passion, one was altogether foreign to that of Mademoiselle 
 Rachel, and therefore beyond her power of delineation. In 
 one of those rare, angelic characters, all feminine gentleness, 
 mildness, and abnegation, in which, however, passion, veiled 
 under the semblance of silent resignation and patient grief, is 
 not the less strong, resolute, and enduring, the great actress 
 is completely out of her sphere. Her voice has the hard, 
 metallic tone of a trumpet ; it is never choked by unshed 
 tears, or softened by suppressed emotion. There is nothing 
 that betrays the inwai'd wound, the fire that consumes slowly,
 
 56 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 but surely, without outward flame. She approaches her lover 
 with calm brow, unmoistened eye, unfaltering voice, and res- 
 olute pace. Nothing betokens the shrinking timidity, the 
 bashful fear, that possess so powerful a charnj. She crosses 
 the stage with dignified assurance, her voice preserving its 
 steady, ironical tone amid the most stormy conflicts of un- 
 chained, raging passions. • 
 
 All the foregoing objections apply most especially to the 
 role of Edher. The ethereal and mystic beauty whose magic 
 glance sufiices to tame the Assyrian is a young, gentle, pious 
 creature, left in a foreign land at the mercy of a conqueror, 
 and thrown in a harem where she is surrounded by heathen 
 women who have lost all innate modesty, and to whom re- 
 ligion has never taught remorse. Esther, the slave, the con- 
 cubine, is freed by grace and legalized by love. Personified 
 by Mademoiselle Rachel, the lovely ideal of Eacine disap- 
 pears ; the witching dream is dispelled ; the houri of the Asi- 
 atic harem is far from gentle, the slave is threatening, the 
 concubine cold, the maiden imperious. Even the gi-aceful 
 piety of Esther is lost, for no heaven-inspired faith breathes in 
 the measured accents of the daughter of Israel, speaking of 
 her own God, the dread God of the Jews. In lieu of the 
 almost divine creature, more visible to the mystic sense than 
 to the eye — in lieu of this celestial vision, whose features re- 
 flect all tlie noble gifts that have their source in her clear, 
 unsullied soul, this maiden, chosen among a thousand, not for 
 a beauty that others may possess in like perfection, but for 
 that nameless charm that gives to its possessor the empire of 
 the world, there was a talented woman, uttering with correct 
 precision the poetic lines, but never personifying the idea. 
 Her qualities here are all negative ; sBe never rants, it is true, 
 but neither does she feel acutely ; she is never carried away 
 by violent passion, but neither has she any warmth of expres- 
 sion ; she does not sob aloud, but she has no tears.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 57 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 1840. 
 
 Artistic Career. — First Period one of constant Struggle and arduous 
 Toil. — Eminent Critics of the Day. — Granier de Cassagnac. — Jules 
 Janin. — Thcophile Gauthier. — Edouard Thierry. — The Public be- 
 comes exacting. — Incident at a Soiree. — Rachel at Eighteen. — Tax- 
 ed with want of real Feeling. — Tact. — Manners. — Delicate Health. 
 — Solicitude of the Public. 
 
 The initiatory steps in life of the actress, the narrative of 
 the more or less extraordinary circumstances that have with- 
 draAvn her from the crowd and placed her at the entrance of 
 the road to fame, the vicissitudes of the family circle, these 
 are but secondary elements in her biography. Incidents of 
 private life may amuse the reader, but what he seeks more 
 especially in the life of an eminent actress is a page of the 
 history of dramatic art in her time and in the country in 
 which she won her laurels. Her stage career, therefore, con- 
 stitutes the most important part of her biography. 
 
 The years 1838 and 1839 had witnessed the astonishing 
 debuts of Mademoiselle Rachel. It now remained that she 
 should consolidate her position, and justify a permanent pos- 
 session of the sceptre she had seized. This could only be done 
 by severe study; it was requisite that she should not only 
 perfect the parts she had acted at her several debuts, but that 
 she should add others to her repertoire, and create new i-bles 
 in new plays. The more indulgent the public shows itself to 
 inexperienced but real talent, the more it is likely to exact 
 from that talent in its maturity. This is the reason why the 
 majority of those who have been cried up as phenomena in 
 their youth, in after years sink into insignificance and oblivion. 
 
 This era constitutes, then, the real artistic career of Mad- 
 emoiselle Rachel. Beginning with the year 1840, it closed 
 ynth the American excursion, undertaken July 30, 1856, and 
 terminated January, 1857. 
 
 The dramatic year is divided into two very distinct por- 
 
 C2
 
 58 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 tions, during one of which the time and services of the actor 
 pei'tain exclusively to the theatre at which he is permanently 
 engaged ; during the other, which is that of his conges, he 
 makes his provincial or foreign tour. 
 
 According to the terms of her engagement, Mademoiselle 
 Rachel had a conge of three months in the year, June, July, 
 and August ; the remaining nine months were to be devoted 
 exclusively to the Theatre Francjais. In these nine months 
 are to be sought the difficulties she overcame in her profes- 
 sion, the new roles she played in known plays, and those she 
 created in new ones ; in a word, her artistic labors. 
 
 To the careful record of whatsoever worthy of note occur- 
 red in these sixteen years, there has been added in the follow- 
 ing pages a critical analysis, or, at least, a more or less de- 
 tailed sketch of the plays in which she appeared, and particu- 
 larly of the characters she played. 
 
 The opinions of the eminent critics of the day have been 
 given as being of no little importance in a work of this kind, 
 particularly when we find the opinions of the public repre- 
 sented by men such as Granier de Cassagnac, Theophile Gau- 
 thier, and Jules Janin, the setters up and destroyers of theat- 
 rical idols. 
 
 Monsieur Granier de Cassagnac, whose literary articles then 
 appeared in " La Presse," but who was subsequently appoint- 
 ed depute, and distinguished himself by his energetic and elo- 
 quent political articles in the " Constitutionnel" in 1848, and 
 by his strenuous adhesion to the emperor, was in 1840 bound 
 by ties of friendship and fellowship to the disciples of the mod- 
 ern school. In point of fact, he was a classicist, especially 
 with regard to Corneille, for whom he found no praise suffi- 
 cient. This predilection might have been the result of the 
 affinity that his own stern, uncompromising character pre- 
 sented in some respects with that of the great father of French 
 tragedy. As for Racine, he treated him as cavalierly and un- 
 ceremoniously as did the partisans of the romantic school. 
 
 Jules Janin, the feuilletonist of the " Debats," was also a 
 champion of the classical school, notwithstanding which he 
 attacked it unscrupulously whenever it suited his fitful moods. 
 Jules Janin is one of those capricious geniuses Avho, when a
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACriEr. 59 
 
 word presents itself on which an article may be spun out, no 
 matter how paradoxical or antagonistic to their former judg- 
 ments, never hesitate to present that article to the astonished 
 public. Thus he frequently spares his friends as little as his 
 opponents, lashing the first and praising the latter with equal 
 injustice and equal eloquence, or, at any rate, with that tor- 
 rent of high-sounding words and intricate phrases that is too 
 often taken as the current coin of eloquence. Yet, though he 
 thus permits too exuberant a fancy and a too ready pen to run 
 on somewhat at random sometimes, Jules Janin is at others 
 one of the most truly eloquent, most fascinating, most moving 
 of writers. He possesses, too, sterling qualities of the heart, 
 not always found in the feuilletonist. Jules Janin has been 
 invariably the apologist of the fallen, the respectful and gen- 
 erous advocate of the absent ; he has been ever more ready to 
 present his homage to royalty in exiles than to royalty on the 
 throne, and that, too, in revolutionary days, when such con- 
 duct was not only noble, but courageous. 
 
 Thcophile Gauthicr, also of " La Presse," was the zealous 
 organ of the school of Victor Hugo and Co. ; but, though he 
 attacked the classic authors, he was just to their interpreters, 
 weighing with impartiality their artistic merits and demerits. 
 Theophile Gauthicr had commenced life as an amateur paint- 
 er, but, finding that he was not destined in that vocation ever 
 to pass the limits of mediocrity, he exchanged the brush for 
 the pen, and soon justified his new choice. Some vestiges of 
 the first taste are perceivable in the critical analyses of the 
 feuilletonist ; the painter's ajc. for the correctness of details and 
 the picturesque of the ensemble adds much interest to the elo- 
 quence of'his descriptions. No other critic conveyed so live- 
 ly, so faithful an impression of Rachel. He paints admirably, 
 and with more minuteness than any other writer, the eifects 
 she produced, her peculiar points ; every little detail that can 
 give an idea of her person, even to the most minute particu- 
 lars of her toilette, are graphically reproduced, yet none seem 
 trivial or out of place. His pen photographs the actress in 
 all her roles. M. Gauthicr is at the present day the dramatic 
 feuilletonist of the "Moniteur." Edouard Thierry must not 
 pass unnoticed among the eminent writers who wielded the
 
 60 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 delicate pi'uning-knife of criticism. Of all those whose judg- 
 ment and opinions on Rachel passed current with the public, 
 he was perhaps the most conscientious, exact, and impartial. 
 M. Thierry writes at present in the partie litterah-e of the 
 " Moniteur." 
 
 So far fortune had seemed to forget her usual fickleness in 
 favor of her privileged child. Prosperity had constantly ex- 
 panded her sails : the flowing tide of success had known no 
 check. "With the year 1840 there came a sudden reaction ; the 
 hot enthusiasm that had bubbled up to such a mad pitch, cooled 
 off, and descended to a degree of lukewarmness and indifler- 
 ence very alarming to the prospects of its object. The symp- 
 toms of this distressing state of things were plainly manifest- 
 ed on the night of the benefit of Mademoiselle Mai-s, on which 
 occasion Mademoiselle Rachel played in " Andromaque." 
 
 The very critics that had hitherto been so loud in her praise 
 were as ready to cavil and condemn, and Jules Janin himself, 
 in his attempt to vindicate the inconstancy of her quondam 
 admirers, is compelled to lay the blame on the insatiate desire 
 for something new that is the ruling passion of the public. 
 The idol had not changed : therein consisted her fault ; the 
 change was in her audience, that knew her by heart. She had 
 played her rqjei-toire over and over again, until it had palled 
 upon the satiated ears of her hearers, who could tell beforehand 
 every gesture, intonation, and look. Every expression of love, 
 every outcry of grief, every storm of passion, every shade of 
 irony and glance of haughty pride, every well-prepared effect, 
 was stereotyped. The audience knew all the strong and all 
 the weak points, where to be attentive and where to be care- 
 less, where to applaud and where to be indifferent. • The very 
 perfection that had formerly elicited such raptures now became 
 intolerably same ; for, however admirable the acting, it failed 
 to interest, inasmuch as it no longer astonished ; it raised no 
 expectations, it elicited no curiosity. Unequal, and therefore 
 inferior acting, where the unforeseen excludes monotony, would 
 have been preferred to this unvaried correctness. The audi- 
 ence had come with the best intentions of beins; entertained. 
 They had counted upon a certain amount of sensation ; they 
 had stipulated for emotions of grief, terror, pity, and delight :
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 61 
 
 they found themselves listening coldly to the finest passages, 
 insensible to the most telling points, and wearied with the 
 length of the play ! 
 
 But we will take Jules Janin's own words : 
 
 " All the talent in the -world, especially Avhen continually 
 applied to the same dramatic works, will not satisfy continu- 
 ally the hearer What pleases in a great actor, as in 
 
 all arts that appeal to the imagination, is the unforeseen. 
 When I am utterly ignorant of what is to happen, when I do 
 not know, when you yourself do not know what will be your 
 next gesture, your look, what passion will possess your heart, 
 what outcry will burst from your terror-stricken soul, then, 
 indeed, I am willing to see you daily, for each day you will be 
 new to me ; to-day I may blame, to-morrow praise ; yester- 
 day you were all powerful, to-morrow, perhaps, you may 
 hardly win from me a word of admiration ; so much the bet- 
 ter, then, if you draw from me unexpected tears ; if in my 
 heart you strike an unknown fibre ; but tell me not of hear- 
 ing night after night great artists who every time present the 
 exact counterpart of what they Avere the preceding one." 
 
 Critics were unanimous in exacting that Kachel should 
 study new roles, saying that it was the only way to renew this 
 young talent, so full of sap and vigor, in lieu of allowing it to 
 languish and gi'ow stale in two or three invariably recurring 
 parts, thus condemning to motionless inactivity this powerful 
 intelligen(*e. 
 
 Mademoiselle Eachel, on her side, having accustomed herself 
 to draw the greater part of her strength from the constant 
 support of the public, at the sight of the coldness and indiffer- 
 ence with which her former enthusiastic patrons now greeted 
 her, was herself chilled and paralyzed ; she stopped short at 
 the aspect of the unimpressed, unmoved galleries. The ap- 
 plause of her audience had become indispensable to her ; the 
 moment it was lacking she became powerless. She could not 
 endure this ill-boding silence ; she imagined her gesture, her 
 look, her voice, would instantly break the spell ; failing in this, 
 she became confused ; she forgot the character she represent- 
 ed, and, to win back the stimulus she lacked, rushed headlong 
 into all the extremes and exaggerations of dramatic art ; where
 
 62 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 
 
 she was wont to show irritation, she became furious ; where 
 she was wont to be proud and dignified, she was pompous ; 
 her irony, usually her most powerful weapon, assumed a sharp, 
 strange tone, and marred the intended effect. 
 
 Thus the habit of praise without limits, and admiration 
 without counterpoise, had borne bitter fruits. The most pas- 
 sionate of her adherents gave vent to scolding fits, crying out 
 that the plaything was stale. And this is one of the terrible 
 but inevitable phases of every artist's life. 
 
 There was undoubtedly some relaxation of exertion on the 
 part of the actress, who did not sufficiently bear in mind that 
 in public as in private life it is easier to win favor than to re- 
 tain it. But there was also great and manifest injustice on 
 the part of the public in requiring from this girl of eighteen, 
 with only two years' stage practice, the qualities of a consum- 
 mate actress whose talent had reached its maturity, to whom 
 years and long familiarity with the boards have given experi- 
 ence, and whose countenance, losing all individuality, has be- 
 come a plastic mask, reproducing at will every emotion, every 
 contradictory passion. To have obtained such unqualified ap- 
 plause as had been awarded to her in the characters of Her- 
 mione, of Camille, of Eriphile, of lioxane, by the veteran play- 
 goers who remembered Mademoiselle Duchesnois, Mademoiselle 
 Mars, and Mademoiselle Georges in their prime ; to have act- 
 ed with unquestionable talent, if not to perfection, Amenaicle, 
 Momme, and Esther, might surely have been deemed sufficient 
 in this young genius. 
 
 Nor was the creation of new roles the only demand of the 
 exacting public. Qualities completely foreign to her nature 
 and the opposites of those she possessed were clamorously call- 
 ed for by the critics, even by her warmest partisans. No one 
 seemed to concede that she to whom nature had granted the 
 facility of excelling in the delineations of bitter irony, indig- 
 nant rage, vindictive hatred, and furious jealousy, could not as 
 readily portray excessive tenderness, melting grief, all the mild 
 and gentle passions, with the infinite and delicately defined 
 shades that lend them so great a charm and insure them so 
 powerful a hold on the human heart. 
 
 Another reason for the coldness of a portion of the public
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEU 63 
 
 may be found in the disgust the sordid, grasping temper of old 
 Felix had excited. The dissensions between the management 
 and the exacting Jew had engendered a bitterness of which 
 the daughter was made to feel the effects. Though it may be 
 urged that as a minor she was not to blame for the venality 
 of her parents, after years proved that when free to follow the 
 dictates of her own will she was no degenerate daughter of 
 Israel, and quite as ready as her fair ancestress and prototype 
 to possess herself of the gods of silver and of gold at the ex- 
 pense of honesty and justice. 
 
 Notwithstanding the urgings of her partisans and the clam- 
 orous complaints of the press, the actress followed the judicious 
 advice of the enlightened guide she had chosen. She wisely 
 abstained from undertaking the creation of i^ew roles. To give 
 life to the idea of an author, to open a path on ground where 
 no foot had preceded hers, to venture on the unknown with- 
 out the guide of traditional success and failures to teach her 
 what to follow and what to avoid was, for one so completely 
 illiterate, to rush into perils from Avhich no exertions of her 
 untutored genius could extricate her. The task required deep 
 study of the character, thorough knowledge of the history, na- 
 tion, habit.s, manners, public and private life, even of the ex- 
 pression of countenance and external appearance of the per- 
 sonage to be represented. Mademoiselle Rachel contented her- 
 self with adding several revivals to her repertoire during this and 
 the two succeeding years, and it was not until the year 1843 
 that she ventured to create a ro/e, when study had better, 
 though even then not sufficiently, fitted her for the effort. 
 
 Mademoiselle Kachel was at this time eighteen years of 
 age, and her constitution, which was never strong, seemed to 
 be giving way altogether. She could play but twice a Aveek, 
 and those who saw her at the close of each performance deem- 
 ed that one must be her last, so frail, so reed-like was her fig- 
 ure. She was threatened with a complaint of the lungs, and 
 was subject to frequent fits of illness. At the recurrence of 
 each attack, the anxious solicitude of the public was manifest- 
 ed in the most flattering manner, as much interest being taken 
 in her health as though she had been some potentate wielding 
 the destinies of nations. The newspapers published daily bul-
 
 64 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 letins of her health, and her door was besieged by anxious in- 
 quirers of the highest rank. 
 
 But, though so often incapacitated by illness, when able to 
 exert herself, Rachel found time to make some amends by 
 study for the deficiencies of early education. She made her- 
 self mistress of the grammatical difficulties of the language 
 whose literary gems she so splendidly interpreted. She soon 
 learned to write correctly, and she had been too long accus- 
 tomed to the pure and classical grace of Corneille and Racine 
 not to express herself with elegance in conversation. l^This 
 girl, whose childhood had been spent in the haunts of poverty 
 and in the companionship of the illiterate, the vulgar, and 
 low-bred, had so keen an intuition of the proprieties of high- 
 toned society, so great a facility of adaptation, so ready a 
 tact, so quick a perception of the beautiful, that she was nev- 
 er out of place in the aristocratic salons into which, in the 
 early part of her career, she was admitted. She was there 
 well-bred, gentle, and unaffected, accepting and acting the 
 part of a gentlewoman as though to the manner born. Her 
 taste was cultivated by the study of the classics, and she en- 
 joyed the advantage of frequenting the most refined circles, as 
 well as the intimacy of the most accomplished men in France. 
 In the salon of Mademoiselle Rachel, of which she did the 
 honors with the most perfect grace and tact, not only the il- 
 lustrious of the literary world, but the most eminent states- 
 men, the most talented politicians of the day were wont to 
 assemble. 
 
 Though nature and habit were thus broken in and curbed 
 under the yoke of will, they returned at times in full force, 
 justifying the proverb of " chassez le naturel il retourne au ga- 
 loj).'' "Whether this was the case, or whether excess of vani- 
 ty or some other cause had evil-disposed the idol, it is certain 
 that on some occasions she behaved with excessive discour- 
 tesy. The following, which was related to the writer by the 
 chief performer in the little scene, may be relied on as a spec- 
 imen of her occasional shortcomings. 
 
 The niece of Ducis, Madame Victoire Babois, so well known 
 as the author of the admirable "Maternal Elegies," and who 
 had reached the advanced age of 78, was then prostrated by
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACnEL. 65 
 
 the illness that was to terminate her existence. The cele- 
 brated poetess, Madame Melanie Waldor, seeking to amuse 
 her old friend with the little items of news of the day, men- 
 tioned that Madame de Gasparin, the wife of the Minister of 
 the Interior, was to give a magnificent soiree, and that Mad- 
 emoiselle Kachel was among the expected guests. "Ah!" 
 exclaimed Madame Babois, '• before I die I will address a few 
 lines to this great tragic actress ; you shall have them to-mor- 
 row." On the following day Madame Waldor received from 
 the hands of the dying woman a dozen lines, which, to her 
 great regret, she has since lost. 
 
 Some twelve hundred persons that evening anxiously await- 
 ed the arrival of Mademoiselle Rachel, who was then perform' 
 ing in " Les Horaces" at the Theatre Fran(;ais. At half past 
 eleven she had not arrived. No other artist, no poet, no mu- 
 sician, had been invited to contribute their talents toward 
 lio^htening the ennui of the cold, tedious official soiree. Mad- 
 ame de Gasparin and many of her distinguished guests ear- 
 nestly requested that Madame Waldor would recite one of her 
 own poems ; but that lady, unwilling to place herself on the 
 same footing with Mademoiselle Rachel, whose business it was 
 to entertain the public, positively declined. She came at last 
 — the long-expected idol. A dead silence ensued, shortly aft- 
 er succeeded by a universal stir and bustle ; every one was en- 
 deavoring to get near to see, and, if possible, to speak to her 
 who created all this excitement. 
 
 The Jewish Melpomene was dressed in white, and was ex- 
 ceedingly thin, but on her brow she wore the consecrating 
 seal of destiny — the tragic look that was the indelible sign of 
 her mission. Had it not been for this redeeming point, she 
 might have been thought insignificant. She recited with con- 
 summate talent a scene from " Cinna," and was greatly ap- 
 plauded. It was then that the hostess said to her, introduc- 
 ing Madame W , 
 
 " This lady is Madame Melanie Waldor, one of our poet- 
 ical glories ; she is the friend of a woman of great talent, who, 
 though on her death-bed, has written some exquisite lines in 
 your honor. Madame Waldor will read them to you." 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel did not answer a word, or give the 
 least token even of acquiescence.
 
 66 jrEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Madame Waldor then read in a tone of great emotion her 
 friend's lines ; they were fall of noble sentiments, and spoke 
 the most graceful praise. Mademoiselle Rachel uttered no 
 word of gratitude, made no sign of courteous acknowledg- 
 ment. She maintained the same immovable, stitf silence. 
 Had she been deaf, dumb, and blind, she could not have ap- 
 peared more insensible to this touching homage sent to her 
 fi'om the brink of the gi-ave. The guests looked at each other 
 in astonishment. Madame Waldor turned abruptly away. 
 
 '•■ That little girl," said she, aloud to Madame de Gasparin, 
 with her rough Breton frankness, careless of being overheard, 
 " that little girl has received of Heaven a great gift, but with 
 it she has neither heart nor brains." 
 
 Madame Waldor subsequently met Mademoiselle Rachel at 
 the houses of Madame de Re'camier and other persons of dis- 
 tinction where fashion had introduced the actress, but she nev- 
 er saw reason to change her opinion. 
 
 Among the charges brought against Rachel even at this 
 early period of her career was that of lacking tenderness, fem- 
 inine softness. To this her pai'tisans reply that she possesses 
 both in an eminent degree, but that she lacks the faculty of 
 expressing them from the very fact that her voice is so well 
 suited to the utterance of violent passions. Neither has she 
 the gift of tears, and of this deficiency she is herself fully 
 aware ; we can not call forth the tears of others unless we can 
 ourselves weep, or at least are deeply moved. In proof that 
 she had no real feeling, and that her exquisite acting was the 
 result of quick perception and earnest study, it was urged that 
 when she came off the stage her pulse remained perfectly nat- 
 ural, her skin cool, her voice calm, even though she had just 
 exhibited the utmost extremes of mental agony on the boards. 
 This assertion, however, is not correct. Whatever the degree 
 of feeling Mademoiselle Rachel may possess, the above allega- 
 tions as to the lack of external tokens of it are false. When 
 playing some of her arduous roles, she was covered with per- 
 spiration even in the depth of winter. After the utterance 
 of the terrific imprecations of Camille, she used to remain sev- 
 eral minutes gasping for breath, her eyes seeming to withdraw 
 into their orbits, and her lips assuming a violet hue. A con-
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. G7 
 
 sequence of this fearful excitement in one of her delicacy of 
 constitution was the illness that necessitated her long sojourn 
 in Egypt. That this overwrought state may at times have 
 been somewhat exaggerated for the sake of effect is very prob- 
 able ; at any rate, after the most laborious scenes, such as 
 those of fourth and fifth acts, she frequently fell fainting in 
 the arms of her mother and her maid, who were always wait- 
 ins for her behind the scenes. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 1840. 
 
 Alarming Incident. — Three Plays revived this year: "Nicomede," 
 "Polyeucte," and "Marie Stuart " — Benefit of Mademoiselle The- 
 nard at Versailles. — Why Racine is generally preferred to Corneille. 
 — Mademoiselle Rachel as Pauline. — Commences her Tour through 
 the Provinces. — Debiit at Rouen. — Letter to the Manager. — The 
 Medallion of "my second Father." — Success at Lyons, &c., &c. — 
 Reappearance at the Theatre Fran^ais. — Indiiference of the Public 
 for the classical Drama. — Artistic Selfishness. 
 
 The year 1840 was ushered in in rather an alarming man- 
 ner for Mademoiselle Rachel, who was then residing in the 
 Passage Ve'rot Dodat. She was roused from her sleep at four 
 o'clock in the morning of the 1st of January by the blazing 
 and crackling of the bed-room floor. However, the fire, which 
 had originated in one of the shops of the firm of Aubert, on 
 the first floor, then filled with albums, portfolios, and other 
 combustibles for New Year presents, was soon got under, and 
 little damage was done. 
 
 On the 22d of February Mademoiselle Rachel played in 
 Versailles. This was the first time she had acted out of Paris. 
 The play was " Cinna," and it was given for the benefit of 
 Madame Thenard, who always performed the part of confidante 
 to all the tragic characters of Mademoiselle Rachel, giving her 
 the cue by her ready replies, and receiving her maternally in 
 her arms at the moment of the catastrophe. 
 
 A little incident, characteristic of the trage'dienne's prone- 
 ness to make promises which she afterward regretted and made 
 no scruple of breaking, occurred on the occasion of this trip to
 
 68 MEMOIRS OP RACHEL. 
 
 Versailles. She had invited three or four friends to accompany 
 her, and as an inducement to get them to go so far on a very 
 cold night to see '• Cinna" for the twentieth time, she prom- 
 ised to give them a snug little supper on their return to Paris. 
 
 After the play, the party set out in a hackney-coach as old 
 as the man who drove it, and his age might be judged by the 
 fact that he had belonged to the household of the Count de 
 Provence, who had sent him to the King of Spain in the year 
 1791, before the princes emigrated; the gait of (he horses 
 seemed to prove them contemporaries of (he coachman. The 
 night was terribly cold, and the party was two hours reaching 
 Paris. The guests' expectation of the good supper that was 
 to recruit their spirits after the fatigue of the journey bore it 
 patiently. Great then was their dismay when, on arriving at 
 the gates of the Passage Ve'rot Dodat, Eachel having whis- 
 pered to her mother as they alighted, the old lady, turning to 
 their frozen and starved companions, dismissed them with 
 " Au revoir. Messieurs, I think we shall all sleep souiidh/." Ra- 
 chel was subsequently so known among her comrades for in- 
 viting people to dinners and suppers she did not give them 
 that it was seldom they were deceived into believing her. 
 
 So violent was the reaction against her at this period among 
 the critics, that on the occasion of her playing in '• Mithri- 
 dates" at the Odcon on the 18lh of April, the only notice 
 taken of her by Jules Janin, her quondam admirer, was the 
 careless remark that she had appeared in one of her three char- 
 acters. The play was for the benefit of Faui-e, the old actor ; 
 the house was very thinly filled. 
 
 On the 9th of April the play of " Nicomede" was I'evived 
 for her. Laodice was taken little notice of. The public was 
 impatient for the long-announced part of Pauline in " Poly- 
 eucte." In general, however, Racine is preferred to Corneille. 
 The preference is readily explained. Corneille personifies the 
 genius of antiquity, and is the worthy rival of Shakspeare and 
 Calderon. But the themes of his tragedies have, except un- 
 der peculiar circumstances, lost much of their interest at the 
 present day. Politics, religion, national honor, inspired the 
 austei-e muse of Corneille ; hence his plays produce the great- 
 est sensation in times of war or of revolution.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 69 
 
 Love, on the contrary, is the chief subject of Racine's mas- 
 ter-pieces, and gives them an interest which is of all ages and 
 all nations. 
 
 Though a religious feeling is indispensable for the just ap- 
 preciation of '• Polyeucte," others are equally excited. Nei- 
 ther the interests of religion nor the fate of empires are here 
 at stake ; the theme, based on the devotion of an enthusiastic 
 man, the struggles in the heart of a woman divided between 
 love and pity, and the respectful passion of a lover who vainly 
 endeavors to save his rival, reach the heart of every spectator. 
 
 " Polyeucte" was revived on the 15th of May. This fine 
 tragedy had not been on the stage for twenty-two years, and 
 even before the death of Talma it had been thought impossi- 
 ble to act it at the Theatre FranQais, so difficult is the part of 
 its heroine, in whom are personified in all their purity the no- 
 blest passions of the human heart: love, duty, faith, and en- 
 thusiasm. While the various feelings and passions are indi- 
 cated and distinguished by subtle and delicate shades, its sen- 
 timents are within the strict limits of good sense. Heroism 
 itself, based on stern reason, is here calm, deliberate, and sub- 
 dued ; there are no sudden transports, no fiery impulses, no 
 bursts of passion, no ii'onical taunts ; in this high soul pride 
 itself has no place. But, because the character is not violent, 
 it by no means follows that it is tame, and when INIadcmoiselle 
 Rachel first acted the part she showed no comprehension of 
 the nice distinctions that constitute its chief charm. The role 
 o{ Pauline combines two apparently discordant elements ; the 
 heroine is, in fact, half pagan and half Christian. She belongs 
 at once to the gods of the Capitol and to the God of the 
 Christians. The part of this sainted young heathen demands 
 an innocent, chaste, and pure young soul ; infinite ease, grace, 
 and repose of manner. The noble young maiden, whose heart 
 is so free from guile that she has no motive for concealment, 
 utters unhesitatingly every thought, steps with the unswerv- 
 ing boldness of innocence, is frank, loyal, and free even with 
 Severe, though she reciprocates his love, and meets him after a 
 year's absence as though they had been parted but a few 
 hours. In her delineation INIademoiselle Rachel erred sadly. 
 She spoke the part with her usual clear, correct, impressive
 
 70 MKMOIBS OF RACHEL. 
 
 intonation, but with the same inflections from beginning to 
 end ; the same deep, sepulchral tones, whether addressing her 
 father, her lover, or her husband, giving it an intolerable same- 
 ness, while her gestures expressed a timid hesitancy denoting 
 fear, and destitute of dignity. For girlish grace she substi- 
 tuted the stern demeanor of a Roman mati'on, folding her 
 robe about her with the severe gesture and look of one called 
 upon to resist a seducer. In all probability, the actress was 
 really afraid of the numberless difficulties this role presents, 
 and sought to avoid them by maintaining a uniform, even de- 
 liveiy, compelling the actors who surrounded her to adopt a 
 species of slow under-tone and subdued action, imparting not 
 only to the part of Pauline, but to the whole play, a monotony 
 that produced on the audience something like ennui. The re- 
 sult was that the admirable fourth act, so full of thrilling emo- 
 tion, and in which is the finest moment of Pauline's existence, 
 produced little effect. In the famous passage, "Je crois,je suis 
 Chretienne!" Mademoiselle Each el redeemed her credit, and 
 found a spark of the spirit of inspiration that had rendered her 
 so successful on former occasions. Her eye, till then so leaden, 
 suddenly quickened into life ; her hitherto unmoved brow 
 seemed to expand, her hands were loosened, her prisoned voice 
 came forth boldly, energetically. With all due respect for the 
 learned men who had undertaken to make a Eoman convert 
 to Christianity of the daughter of Israel, it must be owTied 
 that their lessons had availed little. It was only when the 
 subject seemed to require the inspiration of the faith which she 
 lacked that their unbelieving pupil really succeeded in it. 
 Surely the Jewish maiden could not understand the terrible 
 struggles of Pauline, far less the miracle of Grace Avhich has 
 been the subject of discussion with the most learned doctors of 
 the Church, so little had the reality of feeling to do with its 
 expression from her lips. 
 
 It was in June of this year that Rachel, or rather her father 
 in her name, consented to go through the Departments. Every 
 proposal to do so had hitherto been declined, the sum offered 
 not satisfying the rapacious old man. The remuneration hav- 
 ing at length been deemed sufficiently high, Rachel set out for 
 Rouen. Much stress was laid by the press on the choice made
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 71 
 
 of this town, the birth-place of Corneille, for her debut in the 
 provinces, and her announcement that she would delay her 
 first appearance for two days in order that she might make it 
 on the sixth, the anniversary of his birth. The following let- 
 ter was quoted in all the papers : 
 
 " Monsieur, — It is true that a slight indisposition prevents 
 my performing to-morrow (Thursday, 4th of June), but I own 
 also that a far more powerful motive — a sacred duty, in fact 
 — induces me to postpone doing so. The Gth is the anniver- 
 sary of the birth of the great Corneille, and I would wish to 
 commence my performances on that day. The motive for the 
 delay is surely too praiseworthy to admit of any objection be- 
 ing made. I remain, &c., &c., Rachel. 
 "To i\Ionsieur Nicolo,* Manager of the Theatre dcs Arts in Rouen." 
 
 The j^artei^-e of Rouen has always been the most celebrated 
 for its severe and unbiased judgments on the merits of artists 
 of all provincial theatres. It refuses to be guided by success 
 won in the capital, and boasts of having hissed Talma himself 
 in his youth. The homage paid by the actress to the genius 
 of whom the Rouennais are justly proud could not fail to pro- 
 duce a favorable impression, and her advisers were good judges. 
 HoAV far, however, the feeling expressed by Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel was genuine, the following little anecdote will show. 
 
 A person as yet unacquainted with the true source of Mad- 
 emoiselle Rachel's enthusiasm, hearing her speak in such glow- 
 ing terms of him she was wont to call her second father, pre- 
 sented her with a superb medallion of Corneille. The gift 
 was received with becoming gratitude, kissed with fervent rap- 
 tures, and the donor assured it would never, never be parted 
 with. 
 
 Some few days after, the credulous gentleman being on a 
 
 visit to Mr. D , the celebrated dramatist, mentioned the 
 
 pleasure he had in presenting the medallion, and the Jilial 
 
 gratitude expressed on the occasion, Mr. D , who was 
 
 then a country neighbor of the celebrated artiste, smilingly re- 
 marked that it would not be very difficult to obtain this pre- 
 
 * This gentleman was a brother of the famous composer of that name.
 
 72 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 cious souvenir. The assertion being indignantly received, Mr. 
 
 D continued : " Nay, I'll wager any amount I'll show it 
 
 you within a month — a week — a day — two hours ; and," add- 
 ed Mr. D , taking a small parcel from a drawer, " do not 
 
 be too savage, my artless friend, here is the never-to-be-parted- 
 with medallion !" 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel's filial gratitude had not resisted the 
 temptation to dispose of it where it probably brought her in 
 a larger interest than when in her own possession. 
 
 The little farce of respect to the memory of him who, while 
 living on a pension of two thousand francs, wrote the master- 
 pieces that have given millions to Mademoiselle Kachel, was 
 very successful ; the public of Rouen repaid in praise and 
 more solid coin the trouble taken to please it. 
 
 In Lyons, enthusiasm was at its height ; the municipality 
 presented her with a gold crown valued at 7000 francs. The 
 continuation of her tour was equally satisfactory. 
 
 It was during this visit to Lyons that the following inter- 
 esting incident is said to have taken place. On one of the 
 ofF-nights, having dressed very plainly, the young actress, ac- 
 companied by a male friend, set out to visit the diiferent parts 
 of the city she had been in the habit of frequenting when she 
 and her sister Sarah were obliged each night to bring home a 
 certain amount of small coin. A coffee-house in the vicinity 
 of Le Theatre Celestins, one of the minor theatres, was a fa- 
 vorite place of resort with the poor children. On arriving 
 here the emotion of Rachel was very great. Having entered 
 with her companion, they seated themselves at one of the lit- 
 tle tables and ordered some refreshment ; but she could touch 
 nothing ; her eyes were filled with tears, and, finding herself 
 recognized, she hastened home. While on the stage the next 
 evening, she could not help contrasting the present with the 
 past, and reflecting on the difference time had made in the 
 fortunes of the child who once, in that very town, had recited 
 her little fables to careless ears for the sake of a few sous, 
 doled out more from a feeling of charity than as a reward to 
 repay the pleasure she had imparted, and the young girl to 
 whom a fashionable audience was now listening with rapt at- 
 tention, and on whom monarchs hastened to lavish rich gifts.
 
 31EMU1HS OF KACUEL. 73 
 
 Kachel had no false pride on the subject of her early penu- 
 ry, and never hesitated to speak of it when the subject was 
 introduced. The person who had kept the cafe where the 
 little street-performers were Avont to exercise their talents 
 havinor retired from business and gone to live in Paris, called 
 upon Rachel, who received her with open arras. 
 
 In afeuilleton of the " Constitutionncl," Ave find, apropos of 
 the contrasts she sometimes made between the past and the 
 present, the following, related by Mr. Fiorentino : 
 
 "At a concert given at the Salle Herz for some charity, 
 the celebrated tragedienne had played in her toilette de ville two 
 scenes from ' Phedre,' and had been recalled thrice by the de- 
 lighted audience. Several of the lady patronesses begged she 
 would undertake Avith them the office of queleme for the ben- 
 efit of the poor orphans for Avhom she had just contributed 
 the aid of her talent. Mademoiselle Rachel then did me the 
 honor to take my arm. The audience Avas composed of the 
 elite of Parisian society, and the velvet bag gracefully present- 
 ed by the artiste Avas soon filled. She merrily emptied it into 
 my liat each time, saying to the admirers Avho hastened to 
 present their offering, 
 
 " ' Messieurs, I can not accept less than a louis.' 
 
 " The collection amounted to no less than 3000 francs, and 
 the quHeuse appeared highly delighted Avith her success ; but, 
 as Avc returned home, her countenance suddenly assumed a sad 
 expression : 
 
 " ' Such,' said she, ' is the vanity of men ; they willingly 
 give me a louis now I am rich and celebrated ; they refused 
 to give me tAvo sous Avhen I Avas a poor child dying of hun- 
 ger !' " 
 
 At the expiration of her conge Mademoiselle Rachel reap- 
 peared at the Theatre Franqais on the 14th of September. 
 She was seldom required to play during the autumn of this 
 year. Mademoiselle Mars was about to retire from the stage, 
 and the desire to enjoy the privilege of seeing this great ac- 
 tress, filling the house every time she Avas announced, the man- 
 ajrers took advantage of it to reserve Mademoiselle Rachel. 
 
 Some efforts were, hoAvever, made to resuscitate the classic 
 drama, and to this end, as Joauny was getting old, the debuts 
 
 D
 
 74 BIEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 of Guyon were much encouraged. The opinion?, or rather 
 the laments of the critics during the last four months of 1840 
 are exceedingly curious, and afford a triumphant refutation to 
 the assertions of those who complain that the Americans lack- 
 ed taste for the tragic master-pieces imported by Rachel into 
 the States sixteen years later. Certes, if the pecuniary results 
 of her voyage did not satisfy her insatiate brother, Raphael, 
 the Americans were not to blame ; they could hardly be ex- 
 pected to exhibit more warmth in honor of the French classic 
 drama than the elite of Paris. The public cared so little for 
 the play itself, that whenever the favorite actress or actor was 
 not on the stage, every back was turned to it, and conversa- 
 tion was resumed as though nothing was being said on the 
 boards. Some excuse might be found for this indifference in 
 the careless manner in which the tragedies were got up ; the 
 actors in the secondary parts w^ere perfect sticks, who seemed 
 in a great hurry to get rid of what they had to say, no matter 
 how, and rush off the stage ; the accessories were mean to the 
 last degi'ee ; dresses, &c., &c,, the merest trumpery. 
 
 Rachel herself contributed no little to disgust the public 
 ■with every other actor. Like all stars, she cared for no one 
 else, and endeavored to concentrate on herself the attention of 
 the public to the exclusion of all others. She never played to 
 her fellow-actors on the stage, nor for the sake of bringing 
 into relief the beauties of the play. She kept aloof as much 
 as possible from her companions, never seemed to answer them 
 when the scene required it, or to hear them when it was their 
 turn to reply to her. She showed no interest whatever in 
 what was going on about her, but waited until it was her 
 turn to speak, certain to draw upon herself the undivided at- 
 tention of the audience. This utter indifference to the busi- 
 ness of the stage occasioned the most ridiculous oversights in 
 the most difficult scenes, disheartened the other actors, and 
 completely effected her purpose, which was the same through- 
 out her career, viz., to drive from the stage any person likely 
 to share with her the favor of the public. 
 
 On the 22d of December the " Marie Stuart" of Le Brun 
 was revived, with Mademoiselle Rachel as the heroine. Who- 
 ever has read the drama will readily perceive the points in
 
 MEMOIRS OF EACHEL. 75 
 
 which the precocious actress failed, at least on her first at- 
 tempt. 
 
 This problem of history, the mystery of the heart, the solu- 
 tion of which has been vainly sought by each successive gen- 
 eration with never-failing interest, has been divined by one 
 man only. Of the three dramatists, German, Italian, and 
 French, who have ventured to touch the lovely head with its 
 fatal triple crown and its still more fatal coronet of beauty, 
 laid low by the headsman, the first alone has proved worthy 
 to do so. Schiller sought in his own poetical soul, as well as 
 in the contradictory pages of history, the elements of the beau- 
 tiful being he evoked from the obscurity of past ages. He 
 has depicted with admirable skill the hostile meeting of the 
 two great female contemporaries, the contest between power 
 and beauty — between strength and weakness — between pos- 
 session and right — the fatal game in which ambition, love, 
 jealousy, and pride shuffled the cards, and life was the forfeit. 
 Political motives were but secondary incentives to the murder 
 of the anointed victim ; Avounded self-love and irritated vanity 
 sharpened the axe. Schiller well knew a woman only would 
 have invented the torture of depriving her rival of a mirror. 
 The image it reflected was too lovely ; it might pi'ove a com- 
 pensation to all the rigors of fortune, and diminish the horrors 
 of captivity. And, again, the cool ferocity with which the 
 gentle Mary retaliates on her jailer, lacerating her very heart- 
 strings with those same light, fairy fingers of hers, more cruel 
 than the talons of an eagle. The mingled scorn, anger, con- 
 tempt, and rage, contained in her letter to Elizabeth that has 
 come down to us, in which she alludes to her real or supposed 
 malformation, infirmities, and moral defects, are summed up 
 with consummate skill in the magnificent scene of the third 
 act, when the exasperated captive, forgetful or careless that 
 she is in the lioness's den, taunts tlie monster with her own 
 and her mother's iniquities. Perhaps, withal, the drama falls* 
 short of history here, for the reproaches that adultei'y reigns 
 over the people of England, and that hypocrisij was its sovereign, 
 were less offensive to the queen than was the recorded use of 
 the Jistula in the leg to the woman. 
 
 We have all admired the exquisite lines in which poor
 
 76 MEMOIRS OF RACUEL. 
 
 Marie pours forth her soul when she is permitted, like a bird 
 with a string round its foot, to roam for a moment in appar- 
 ent freedom. 
 
 Faithfully has the German poet followed history, step by 
 step, guessing what the veil of time concealed, and giving new 
 life to those long-buried human passions. One personage, it 
 were to be hoped, was of his own invention, did not his re- 
 corded deeds too plainly prove that such a miscreant had ex- 
 isted : a wretch divided between love (?) and ambition — be- 
 tween the royal murderess and her no less regal victim, who, 
 during five acts, is the servile courtier, the cringing laquaiSy 
 the lover of the daughter of Anna Boleyn, a traitor to two 
 queens, affecting to wish to save Mary of Scotland and coun- 
 seling her murder, assisting at its perpetration and reporting 
 its details to his bloody mistress, Elizabeth of England ! The 
 dramatist has given the true colors of the notorious Earl of 
 Leicester, whom history shows us charged at home with the 
 murder of two wives — on the field of battle with utter inca- 
 pacity — at court with treason. The love of Mary for this 
 man is an inci'edible invention, but that he became one of her 
 most violent persecutors in revenge for her having contempt- 
 uously rejected his homage is too true. 
 
 Such were the materials that Schiller had at his disposal, 
 and well did he use them. The French poet has given but a 
 meagre copy, in which almost every beauty of the original is 
 lost. 
 
 In the 7'o/e of " Marie Stuart" Rachel was not successful on 
 her first attempt, though she subsequently greatly improved it. 
 The failure may, in a great measure, be atti'ibuted to her ig- 
 norance of histoiy, and, consequently, of the character, feel- 
 ings, and manners of the personage she represented, of the age 
 in which she lived, and of the circumstances in which she was 
 placed. It was probably with a view that she should learn 
 *these indispensable points that M.de Kemusat presented Made- 
 moiselle Rachel with a magnificent copy of the History of 
 Scotland. On this occasion it was very evident she had not 
 yet opened its gilded pages. The advantage derived from the 
 study of history has been appreciated by all great actors. Tal- 
 ma studied Tacitus in the morninijr and acted his heroes in the
 
 MEMOIRS OK RACHKL. 77 
 
 evening. Lekain was an assiduous student of the ancients. 
 Larozeliere used to relate that, calling one morning on Mad- 
 ame Dunenil, he found her in her garden, sitting by a well, 
 reading Suetonius, and meditating on the character of Agrip- 
 pina. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel understood instinctively the violent 
 passions of the imprisoned, vexed, and worried Mary ; she 
 could not as readily understand the effect of religion on that 
 tempest-tossed soul — the calm, the resignation that succeeds 
 to the hurricane. 
 
 She could depict with startling truth the maddened queen 
 retaliating with usury the insults heaped upon her, and drag- 
 ging into the dust even the memory of her tormentor's moth- 
 er, but beyond that rage and that vengeance she saAv nothing. 
 She could bear with conscious pride the weight of that triple 
 crown, but she could not discern the block to which she was 
 hastening — that block to which she must soon bend with the 
 dignity of a queen, but also with the resignation of a Chris- 
 tian and a martyr ! 
 
 When the canopy, the innocent emblem of sovereignty, is 
 torn from Mary's chair, Rachel had not the slightest idea of 
 the sublime effort with Avhich the queen, subduing her indigna- 
 tion, says, "Place the crucifix here, Melvil, and let us kneel !" 
 Mary herself was twenty years learning the difficult lesson of 
 humility ; it cost Mademoiselle Rachel fourteen years of study 
 to enable her to present this, the fairest side of the picture. 
 
 That INIademoiselle Rachel had not sufficiently weighed the 
 sense of the words she uttered was evident in what to some 
 may appear a slight mistake. A good actor, however, is aware 
 of the importance of accessories in keeping up scenic illusion. 
 The unfortunate victim of female tyranny who so bitterly com- 
 plains of being imprisoned in a dungeon, deprived of rank, 
 power, friends, attendance, and reduced to the veriest want — 
 
 "Dans Ics murs d'un cacliot vous m'avcz enfermec 
 Depouillee a la fois do toutes Ics prandcurs, 
 Sans secours, sans amis, presque sans scrviteurs 
 Au plus vil denucmcnt dans ma prison reduite" — 
 
 this forlorn lady is dressed in a style of gorgeous magnifi- 
 cence ; her bodice is stiff with jewels, and some twenty rows
 
 78 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 of pearl encircle her neck! This rich dress was accurate as 
 to the fashion of the age, but it was not true to the situation. 
 In the first place, it quite eclipsed that of Queen Elizabeth. 
 It was not probable that the rival who deprived Mary of a 
 mirror would have allowed her to keep such rich attire. The 
 fine dresses of the woman were of course taken from her on 
 the same principle that the sword of an imprisoned man is 
 not left to him. They were her weapons, and as Mary's chief 
 crime was her beauty, Elizabeth was the less likely to forget 
 this precaution. Moreover, this splendor renders Mary less 
 interesting. So beautifully dressed a woman is surely not to 
 be pitied. One might feel resigned to having one's head cut 
 off, but to be obliged to wear an unbecoming cap would indeed 
 be cruel. Mary might forgive the theft of her crown, never 
 that of her di-esses ! 
 
 " Marie Stuart" did little toward consolidating the hold of 
 Mademoiselle Rachel on public opinion. People still remem- 
 bered the intense feeling with which Mademoiselle Duchesnois 
 had played the same part, and the comparison was not favor- 
 able to her successor. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 1841. 
 
 Engagement for one Year signed with the Theatre Fran^ais.— Father 
 and Teacher.— Debuts in England. — Victoria to Mademoiselle Ka- 
 chel. — Andromaque mistaken for Hermione. — Rachel at Windsor. — 
 Eeturn to Paris. — Increasing Splendors. — Rachel a thorough Cos- 
 mopolitan. — A Rival ! — Contest for the scenic Sceptre : " Marie Stu- 
 art." — Rachel and Elizabeth. — Maxime.— Fhedre keeping furnished 
 Lodgings and a Table d'hote. 
 
 It has been seen that " Marie Stuart" added nothing then 
 to the reputation of Mademoiselle Rachel. While her parti- 
 sans still warmly applauded all she did, it was evident that 
 curiosity was no longer excited and enthusiasm had cooled. 
 
 The actress herself was much too anxious to secure the re- 
 newal of her engagement on such terms as she, or rather her 
 father, deemed she could safely exact to study new parts this
 
 MEMOIKS OK UACIIEL. 79 
 
 year. G0,000 francs per annum and three months' conge were 
 the terras she licsitated to accept — that is, over 90,000 francs 
 for one yeai'* — the amount paid to Monsieur Guizot to govern 
 the most ungovernable nation on earth ! 
 
 In the first week of April, however, the engagement was ac- 
 cepted and the treaty for one year signed on the above terms ; 
 furthermore, it was agreed that at the close of the year Made- 
 moiselle Kachel should be received societaire, with o, full share 
 and a fixed salary of 42,000 francs. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel, in the mean Avhile, had enough to do 
 to please her domestic advisers. Her life was no easy one in 
 this respect. Every scene she studied was learned with the 
 accompaniment of another rather more annoying in its unpo- 
 etical reality to the poor girl. The following may be taken 
 as a specimen : 
 
 The word toujouvs, for instance, is to be spoken in Made- 
 moiselle Eachel's role. M. Sanson advises his pupil to utter 
 it with head erect, loud voice, and firm, resolute tone. 
 
 " Thus, raising your head, say ' Toujoui's.' " 
 
 M. Felix, who is present, interposes : 
 
 " No, -that's not the way ; you must say it mildly — with 
 great feeling ; thus, casting your eyes to heaven, Tou — jours." 
 
 ]\I. Sanson (annoyed) : " It must be said authoritatively." 
 
 M. Felix (getting obstinate) : "It must be spoken tenderly 
 — pathetically." 
 
 JM. Sanson (waxing testy) : " I am her teacher, and must 
 not be intei'fered with." 
 
 M. Felix (quite furious) : " I am her father, and must be 
 obeyed." 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel, quite bewildered, says the fatal word 
 toujouvs, no matter how. M. Sanson thinks he discerns the 
 intonation suggested by Father Felix, and becomes indignant: 
 
 " You are an ingrate ! A pupil who is indebted to me for 
 her success ! I've done with you ; adieu." 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel, dismayed at having offended her pro- 
 
 * 42,000 francs out of the G0,000 Avere paid her out of the subsidy 
 given by the state ; tbc remainder was the sum her full share as socie- 
 taire would bring. It was siipiMsed her conges gave over 30,000 francs 
 yearly.
 
 80 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 fessor, without -whom she can not get along, says toujours as 
 he wished she should. There is no misunderstanding her this 
 time, and Father Felix, in liis turn, flies into a passion : 
 
 "You unnatural child! You rebellious daughter!" «fec., 
 &c. 
 
 Mademoiselle JRachel bursts into tears, and the lesson ends 
 here, for the pupil's sobs prevent her saying toiijours in any way. 
 
 The above, and other similar little dialogues were reported 
 at the time, much to the amusement of the public, and cer- 
 tainly, if not true to the letter, were very true to the tempers 
 and habits of the personages. 
 
 That the father contributed by his judicious advice to the 
 success of Rachel is well known. Entirely ignorant of all 
 rules, having perhaps never seen good acting — at least not 
 good French actors — before his arrival in Paris, he possessed 
 in the highest degree instinctive dramatic knowledge. When- 
 ever his daughter (in the early part of her career) went to take 
 her lesson, he accompanied her, that he might make her re- 
 peat and study at home, which she always did with his assist- 
 ance. For keen perception of what was right or wrong, where 
 strength, passion, &c., were required, no teacher surpassed him. 
 Had he studied the profession in his youth, he would have at- 
 tained high excellence in the art. 
 
 In order to stimulate the flagging interest of the Parisian 
 public, it was thought advisable to accept the proposal made 
 by Lumley, of her majesty's Theatre, to play there one month. 
 Nothing that could give eclat to her reception was omitted, 
 and the result was that desired. The new idol was greeted 
 with fanatical admiration. In London she again met the dis- 
 tinguished English to whom she had been introduced in the 
 salons of Paris. She was invited into the most aristocratic 
 circles, at Lord Palmerston's, Lady Jersey's, &c. She was 
 every where accompanied by her father and her sister Sarah. 
 The perfect tact of the old man stood him in lieu of the quali- 
 ties he lacked, and, besides, the daughter made the father ac- 
 ceptable. 
 
 As for Rachel, her unaffected and even dignified simplicity, 
 her modesty, and the perfect decorum of her conduct, made 
 her a great favorite with tlie fastidious English aristocracy.
 
 MEMOIRS OF KACHEI,. - 81 
 
 The aunts of the qucen_ condescended to notice licr, and she 
 was invited to "Windsor, and presented by the Duchess of Kent 
 to her majesty, who received her very graciously. The usual 
 roval gift was on this occasion a bracelet composed of two 
 wreathed serpents with diamond heads, and bore, graven on 
 the inside, a few words. Those words were subsequently 
 commented on in a variety of ways. It was said, and even 
 reported in the public prints, that the inscription was this : 
 Victoria to Hachel. The truth was, it stood thus : Victana to 
 Mademoiselle Rachel; the diflerence of the omission of a single 
 word making an immense one in the sense. 
 . But it was neither the inscription nor the honor the gift 
 brought that occupied the attention of the recipient ; her mind 
 was set on more substantial advantages. She has herself 
 owned that her first impulse was to feel the iceight of the 
 bracelet, and thence estimate its metallic value ! 
 
 It was on this occasion that the actress appearing to suffer 
 from cold, the Duchess of Kent is said to have covered her 
 shoulders with a magnificent yellow Indian shawl of her own. 
 This shawl was afterward taken possession of by mother Felix, 
 on whose shoulders, had it been gifted with consciousness, the 
 magnilicent production of the Indian looms must have been 
 rather astonished to find itself. 
 
 It was on the 14th of May that Mademoiselle Eachel made 
 her dcbid at her majesty's Theatre. A company of French 
 actors attended her from Paris, and the first tragedy given was 
 " Andromaque." A rather amusing mistake was made this 
 evening by the London audience, who had never yet seen the 
 great French actress, but were willing to accept the judg- 
 ment of the Continent sin- parole. The person who acted the 
 first tragic parts with Rachel was gifted by nature with a very 
 fine person, but was an actress of secondary capacity. She 
 played Andromaque, and appeared in the third scene of the 
 first act, whereas Rachel, as Ilei'mione, did not come on until 
 the first scene of the second act. The audience, who were anx- 
 iously awaiting the entrance of Rachel, seeing this fine-looking 
 Andromaque, took it for granted that this was the phenome- 
 non of the day, and greeted her with thunders that quite be- 
 wildered jNIademoiselle Larcher, who was unaccustomed to 
 
 D2
 
 82 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 such a reception. The ovation was prolonged to the close of 
 the first act, and when the real object of this enthusiasm came 
 on, but few hands were raised to welcome her. The truth 
 was, however, soon rumored, and the homage transferred to 
 its legitimate object. 
 
 Every movement of Mademoiselle Rachel was duly chroni- 
 cled by the press. An indisposition with which she was seized 
 at a soiree of Lady Cardigan's on the 1st of June was reported 
 with extravagant lamentations, and her recovery with as ex- 
 travagant joy. Her reappearance on the 8th of June was 
 greeted as though she had escaped from the tomb. The queen 
 and queen-dowager were present. 
 
 On the 14th of June Mademoiselle Rachel arrived at the 
 Castle Hotel in Windsor, where apartments had been prepared 
 for her. She had come in order to assist at a. fete given by the 
 queen, the particulars of which were reported in the papers of 
 the day. A splendid banquet, to which were invited one hun- 
 dred and two guests, pi-eceded the performances. Among the 
 superb plate of the crown displayed were the Indian trophies 
 the English nation has lately paid for so dearly ; the magnifi- 
 cent tiger's head, known as the footstool of Tippoo Sa'ib, the 
 splendid peacock adorned with precious stones of immense 
 value, and also the shield of Achilles. On the right and left 
 of the immense buffet on which this wealth of nations was dis- 
 played hung the blue banners of Tippoo Sa'ib, adorned with 
 pearls and jewels of great value. 
 
 The theati-ical and musical entertainment of the evenino- 
 
 o 
 
 was presented in the following order: 
 
 I. 
 
 Fh-st act of "Bajazet." 
 Overture of Covint d'Egmont. 
 
 II. 
 
 Third act of "Marie Stuart." 
 
 March of Harold. 
 
 III. 
 
 Fourth act of " Andromaque." 
 
 Symphony of Mozart. 
 
 God save the queen ! 
 
 During Mademoiselle Rachel's stay in London, negotiations
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 83 
 
 were set on foot for an engagement to play in Spain, but they 
 were not carried through. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel took her leave of a London audience 
 on the 20th of July, in the part of Camillc. Every formula of 
 praise was exhausted by the press on this occasion, as on the 
 preceding ones. According to the on dits of the day, her tri- 
 umph had been extended to the heart of the manager, who is 
 said to have offered her his hand. If the offer was made it 
 was not accepted, and Mademoiselle Rachel left England on 
 her way to Bordeaux on the 22d of July, and arrived in that 
 city on the 1st of August. 
 
 We have hitherto followed Mademoiselle Rachel more es- 
 pecially in her professional career; we have now before us a 
 more arduous task ; we are to speak of her as the woman in 
 her social sphere : a delicate subject at all times, .since it com- 
 pels us to invade the sanctuary of private life, and reveal its 
 mysteries to a prj-ing public, but more especially so in the 
 present case. 
 
 We will endeavor to fulfill this task, nothing extenuating, 
 nor setting down aught in malice, in as far as it is consistent 
 with conscientious biography to report the words and actions 
 of its subject. But there are grounds it is not our province to 
 touch upon ; grounds that are beyond the limits of the morbid 
 curiosity that eagerly seeks to find in every great work that 
 issues from the Divine hand the contaminating; touch of the 
 genius of evil ; grounds where the truth is too obscure to be dis- 
 tinguished from fable, and where, even if known, it would afford 
 no better clew to character, would convey no lesson, prevent 
 no fall. If, then, those Avho delight in the scandalous revela- 
 tions of the foibles of poor human nature have taken up this 
 book with the hope of finding in it a detailed account of the nu- 
 merous liaisons attributed, whether justly or not, to this celebra- 
 ted woman, and the innumerable scandalous anecdotes that have 
 been circulated with regard to her and her supposed admirers, 
 we warn them they had better throw it down at once, as noth- 
 ing so piquant seasons its matter-of-fact pages. Whatever is 
 necessary to convey an idea of the character, temper, and in- 
 clinations, especially in all that has any connection with her 
 talent as an actress, we are bound to offer to the reader so far
 
 84: MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 as we have it in our power ; farther, we have nothing to add 
 from the garrulous chronique scandaleuse of the day. 
 
 On her return from London and Bordeaux, where, in addi- 
 tion to the golden harvests she had reaped, her stay had been 
 marked daily by rich tokens of individual admiration, the 
 apartment in the Passage Verot Dodat could no longer accord 
 with her position. A handsome apartment, Rue du Luxem- 
 bourg, near the Tuileries, was taken, and furnished richly. 
 Here Rachel had a suite of rooms to herself, separated from 
 those occupied by the rest of the family, the apartment being 
 divi(^ed by the landing-place, and each side having a salon, 
 bed-rooms, &c. The young girls, Rebecca and Leah, were 
 placed in boarding-schools. It was while residing in this apart- 
 ment that Rachel first owned a carriage ; it was the gift of a 
 co-religionist, M. Cremieux, a brother of the celebrated advo- 
 cate and minister of the provisional govei-nment. 
 
 The success of Rachel abroad seemed a triumphant refuta- 
 tion of the criticisms of the fault-finders at home. The en- 
 thusiasm of her audiences had loaded her with crowns, poet- 
 ical effusions, and — what to her was most welcome of all — 
 money. In these visits to foreign countries and departmental 
 tours the vanity of the woman and the avarice of the Jewess 
 were fully gratified, while the artiste had no criticisms to dread. 
 In Paris praise was lavishly awarded when deserved, but im- 
 partial and severe criticism visited every error, and held up in 
 glaring colors every false step, every failure. The capital of 
 good taste, the admitted arbitress of merit, considers her 
 slightest commendations equal to all the more lightly-bestow- 
 ed praise of less competent judges, and when she has adopted 
 a child of genius, she is jealously exacting, and permits of no 
 slight to herself or pi-eference being shown for other towns. 
 Throughout the whole of her career Rachel proved herself a 
 thorough cosmopolitan ; she went, she staid, where she was 
 paid most. In her heart there appeared to be no place for 
 gratitude ; her idol was gold, and whenever that lure was 
 held out she hastened to grasp it, regardless of all previous 
 claims upon her services. 
 
 The result of this conduct Avas that the Parisians lost all 
 affection for her, and that, after every absence, it required all
 
 MEJIOIHS OK EACHKL. 85 
 
 her talent and an extraordinary degree of exertion on her part 
 to reconquer her place. Talma and Mademoiselle Mars, those 
 darlings of the Parisian public, never sacrificed their duties at 
 the Theatre Franc^ais to any offer made them elsewhere. 
 Whatever the advantages to be reaped abroad, they returned 
 faithfully at the appointed time, and never failed to show 
 themselves prouder of the favor of the capital than of that of 
 any potentate. Thus it was that when, after every cotigc, 
 tliey reappeared on the Parisian stage, the delight of the au- 
 dience was manifested in the most enthusiastic manner. 
 AVhen Rachel reappeared at long intervals after her erratic 
 flights and capricious fits of sullenness, she was received with 
 stern, cold silence. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel experienced this for the first time on 
 her return to Paris this year. There was, moreover, some- 
 thing far more to be dreaded ; there was a rival. The man- 
 agement, whether to lower the presumption, and consequently 
 the claims of the reigning star, or with a view of securing a 
 second resource in case the first should fail, liad brought out 
 a competitor. Among the zealous supporters of the debutante 
 was Jules Janin, the once enthusiastic partisan of Rachel. 
 The enthusiasm which the new object of his admiration ex- 
 cited found vent in the most rhapsodical tirades tliat ever fell 
 from his pen. 
 
 The i-6le attempted by the daring candidate was the most 
 arduous, perhaps, in the whole classic repertoire, the master- 
 piece of Racine, one that Rachel had not yet dared to act, 
 that she only attempted three years afterward, and only suc- 
 ceeded in ten years later — Phldre. In this god-descended and 
 goddess-cursed queen every human passion is carried beyond 
 human strength ; she revolves in a fiery sphere incomprehensi- 
 ble to orderly every-day people. In that tortured heart there 
 is a turmoil of wild, contradictory elements striving for the 
 mastery such as no mere earth-born creature could withstand. 
 Quenchless love and poignant grief, hope and despair in their 
 most phrensied extremes, rend the stronghold of vitality, till, 
 weary of the strife, the vexed soul rushes into eternity. Yet, 
 repulsive as woidd seem the incestuous step-dame, the adul- 
 terous wife, whose perjured breath stirs the lowest depths of
 
 86 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 
 
 hell, and evokes the demons of murder and ruin, the great, 
 the indispensable condition of the role is that our pity be ex- 
 cited for this victim of the implacable destiny of antiquity. 
 We are to forget the murdered son ; neither his innocence nor 
 his terrible death, to narrate which the poet has exhausted the 
 rich treasures of his art, should absorb our interest : our sym- 
 pathy — our pity should centre in the murderess. 
 
 This character, then, w^hicli consummate actresses had spent 
 years in learning, and attempted with fear and trepidation, 
 was confided to a neophyte. Of the efforts made to sustain 
 her, the following is a proof: 
 
 " This is, indeed, the Phcdre of Racine. The very sight of 
 her reveals the woman who is courageous, energetic, and pas- 
 sionate beyond measure. * « * « c^i^g comes on the 
 stage like a desperate creature ; nothing dazzles, nothing stops 
 her. What she is to say is there, in her head, in her soul ; 
 but she will say it according to the inspiration of the moment. 
 If she says it as she should, so much the better. * * « * 
 Mademoiselle Maxime has triumphed in this most arduous 
 experiment. Her head is full of energy, her look of anima- 
 tion. She has a fine voice that no exertion wearies, ready 
 tears, simple and natural gestures. She does not play with 
 Racine's verses as a child does with a hoop ; she does not en- 
 deavor to concentrate all the tragedy in herself, and exclude 
 the actor who plays with her from the favor of the public — 
 that favor w^hich is his sun ; on the contrary, she listens well ; 
 she assists the efforts of those around her ; she does not de- 
 claim, she acts. * * « "\Ve have found a Phcdre at last. 
 Go and see her ; go and applaud her ; go and defend her. 
 She is alone, without support, without coterie, without pro- 
 tection, left to her own true instincts, &c., «&;c," 
 
 For some months Jules Janin endeavored to support this 
 rival to Mademoiselle Rachel, forgetting, while he instituted 
 comparisons so insulting to his quondam idol, that he insulted 
 his own former judgments, and invalidated any future ones 
 he might make. 
 
 In October Mademoiselle Rachel reappeared in the role of 
 Camille. She was received, as we have already said, Avithout 
 the slightest token of favor, and commenced her part amid
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 87 
 
 icy silence. Tiie public seemed to say, " You may leave us 
 if it pleases you, but we may also forget you. Beware, for 
 absence is always dangerous." The actress bent every nerve 
 to the task of winning back her audience, and was finally re- 
 called at the close of the fourth act, amid thunders of ap- 
 plause. 
 
 Among the reproaches addressed to the tragedienne, this re- 
 entrance at the close of the fourth act to be applauded by the 
 public was one o£ the most just ; but it might be with equal 
 reason addressed to the audience who permitted so flagrant a 
 violation of good taste. In England the fifth act was omit- 
 ted, and the tragedy ended with the death of Camille. The 
 insult to the author, the contempt shown to the other actors, 
 was certainly not so gross in this case as when the play was 
 continued after the resurrection of Camille. This resurrection 
 destroys all illusion, and takes away all interest from the last 
 act, and the result was that hardly any one staid to hear it. 
 This affords a farther proof that the classic drama is dead in 
 France, and that no one cares in reality for Corneille and Ra- 
 cine. 
 
 On the 25th of October the performance of "Marie Stuart" 
 brought the two rivals before the public in the same play, and 
 in characters that allowed each to vent openly all the stifled 
 rage, indignation, and hatred to which their rivalry gave rise. 
 The foes Avcre brought face to face, and a seemingly fair field 
 was given them to contend for the favor of the public. The 
 original struggle for mastery between the real personages of 
 history could hardly have been more desperate than the mod- 
 ern one between these two mock queens ; each put forth all 
 the power that nature and art had given her to crush the 
 other and secure to herself the scenic sceptre. The passions 
 that were roused, the emotions that were excited among their 
 partisans were, in a narrow compass, no less fierce and vio- 
 lent than those of the drama. In comparison with the great 
 contest recorded in histoiy, this, in truth, was a tempest in a 
 punch-bowl ; yet each competitor felt that her prospects in 
 life, her very existence, was staked upon the issue. 
 
 Every time poor jNIaxime appeared, one portion of the house 
 maintained a disdainful silence, a tacit condemnation which
 
 88 MEMOIKS OF RACUET.. 
 
 her own few but brave partisans retorted to the full whenever 
 Raeliel came on. Both camps anxiously awaited the decisive 
 third act. It amply justified their solicitude. The silence 
 that reigned throughout the house was almost oppressive. 
 Elizabeth — Maxime — pale, disheartened, seeing too well the 
 tide was against her, feeling instinctively she was doomed, 
 knowing her incapacity to resist or escape the impending ava- 
 lanche, trembled with impotent rage. Every word she utter- 
 ed revealed the bitterness and grief of her burdened heart. 
 Marie Stuart — Rachel — on her side, passive and motionless, 
 accepted all the withering contumely heaped upon her ; with 
 bent head, folded arms, and steady, calm, glittering eye, she 
 waited — waited patiently — but there was something so ap- 
 palling, so deadly in the look, that a shudder went through 
 the audience ; every one felt that the patience was that of the 
 tiger secure of his prey, who has noted the very place where 
 his fangs will be thrust into the quivering flesh of the victim. 
 When, at last, it was her turn to speak, the very ones who 
 had expected the explosion were thunderstruck. No pen can 
 render the phrensied passion, the terrific vehemence, the 
 scorching indignation with which she poured forth her pent- 
 up fury. Her voice, lately so weak and exhausted, strength- 
 ened by her imperious will, hurled forth anathemas that fell 
 like sledge-hammers on the crushed Maxime, who, breathless, 
 amazed, terrified beyond measure, gazed at her with wild eyes. 
 The scene was magnificent, and beggars description. No one 
 could have believed such meaning could be given to the pale, 
 meagre, wishy-washy translation of Le Brun ; no one ever 
 suspected the strength, the fire contained in Rachel. Her ir- 
 ritated self-love had developed all her resources ; she had at- 
 tained every perfection save one, the most prized, most valu- 
 able — tears. True tenderness, real feeling, have their source 
 in the heart ; they do not spring from self-love and irritated 
 vanity. 
 
 The defeat of Maxime was too complete to be denied, even 
 by the critic who had so loudly proclaimed her superiority ; 
 but he palliated his want of judgment and softened her fall by 
 alleging that the character was unsuited to her, as her chief 
 gift was the power of expressing feeling, pathetic sentiment,
 
 MK.MOIUS OF KACIIKI.. 8f) 
 
 and the rule oi Elizabeth permitted nothing of the kind. Had 
 she acted Marie Stuart, and liacliel Elizabeth, the exit would 
 have been different. There might certainly have been a great 
 deal of trutli in saying tliat, had the rules been reversed, Max- 
 imo would have been more in her element, and Rachel still in 
 her own, but never could the former have made the scale in- 
 cline on her side when matched with such an adversary. 
 
 Her triumph cost Blademoiselle Rachel an indisposition 
 that prevented the repetition of this exciting scene. 
 
 All attempt at rivalry was at an end. Mademoiselle Max- 
 ima sank at once into insignificance, and, although she re- 
 mained ten years on the stage, the public never took any es- 
 pecial notice of her. She is now keeping an hotel garni, Rue 
 de la Michodiero, in Paris. Phldre lets furnished lodgings, 
 with board if required. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 1842. 
 
 The "Cid."— The Chimeiie of the French Stape ; the Ximena of An- 
 cient Spain and the Creation of Mademoiselle Rachel. — "Ariane." 
 — La Champmesle. — Mademoiselle Clairon. — Return to London. — 
 Disappointment. — Success in Belgium. — 30,000 Francs in eleven 
 Nights. — Corneille's Anniversary a Failure. — Return to Paris. — 
 "Fredegonde." 
 
 Three revivals were presented during the course of this 
 year by Mademoiselle Rachel : the " Cid" of Pierre Corneille, 
 the " Ariane" of his brother, Thomas Corneille, and the "Fr'- 
 degonde et Brunehaut" of Leraercier. The selection of all 
 these tragedies could not have been more unfortunate ; in the 
 first instance, with regard to the want of proper preparation 
 on the part of the actress ; in the other instances, with regard 
 to the plays themselves. 
 
 The "Cid" was given on the 19th of January. We have 
 said elsewhere that Corneille's female characters were, with 
 the exception of that of Chimcne, very inferior to his heroes. 
 To find this exquisitely beautiful, passionate, and eloquent 
 maid, this noble heart divided between love and duty, yet nev-
 
 90 MEMOIRS Of RACHEL. 
 
 er for a moment sacrificing one to the other, uniting strength 
 and gentleness, anger and forgiveness, pride and grief, the burn- 
 ing love of a woman, the thirst for vengeance of a Castilian 
 daughter — this being, lovely as she is terrible, yet, whether in 
 her extreme of grief or her extreme of rage, commanding re- 
 spect and admiration, inspiring love and sympathy — to find 
 this, the noblest creature ever created by the divine breath, 
 Corneille had to seek in a heroic age, in a land of chivalrj'. 
 The age of gallantry, the brilliant court of Louis XIV., its 
 galaxy of lovely dames afforded no such model. 
 
 The cause of the quarrel between the two fathers that forms 
 the basis of the plot is taken from the old ballads of the " Cid," 
 the spirit of which has been so faithfully given in Southey's 
 version. 
 
 "In those days arose Eodrigo of Bivai*, who was a youth 
 strong in arms and of good customs ; and the people rejoiced 
 in him, for he bestirred himself to protect the land from the 
 Moors. 
 
 " At this time it came to pass that there was strife between 
 the Lord of Gormaz and Diego Laynez, the father of Eodrigo ; 
 and the count insulted Diego and gave him a blow. Now 
 Diego was a man in years, and his strength had passed from 
 him so that he could not take vengeance ; and he retii'ed to 
 his house, to dwell there in solitude and lament over his dis- 
 honor. And he took no pleasure in his food, neither could he 
 sleep by night, nor would he lift his eyes up from the ground, 
 nor stir out of his house, nor commune with his friends, but 
 turned from them in silence, as if the breath of his dishonor 
 would taint them. Eodrigo was yet but a youth, and the 
 count was a mighty man in arms, and one who gave his voice 
 first in the Cortes, and was held to be the best in war, and so 
 powerful that he had a thousand friends among the mount- 
 ains. Howbeit, all these things appeared as nothing to Eod- 
 rigo when he thought of the wrong done to his father, the first 
 that had ever been offered to the blood of Lain Calvo. He 
 asked nothing but justice of Heaven, and of man a fair field ; 
 and his flxtlier, seeing of how good heart he was, gave him his 
 sword and his blessing. The sword had been the sword of 
 Mudarra in former times ; and when Eodrigo felt its cross
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACIIKL. 91 
 
 within liis hands, he thought within himself that his arm was 
 not weaker than Mudarra's. And he went out, and defied tiie 
 count, and slew him, and smote off" his head, and carried it 
 home to his father. The old man was sitting at table, the 
 food lying before him un'tastcd, when Kodrigo returned, and 
 pointing to the head that hung from his horse's collar drop- 
 ping blood, he bade him look up, for there was the herb that 
 would restore to him his appetite ; the tongue, quoth he, which 
 insulted you, is no longer a tongue, and the hand which wrong- 
 ed you is no longer a band. And the old man arose and em- 
 braced his son, and placed him above him at the table, saying 
 that he who brought him that head should be the head of the 
 house of Lain Calvo." 
 
 Whatever Corneille added to the original text was true to 
 the spirit, if not to the letter, and in all points conforming to 
 the feelings, customs, and manners of the age and country. 
 This splendid theme, dressed in his magnificent poetry, consti- 
 tutes a drama that has no equal. 
 
 The character of the lovers, whatever may have been said 
 to the contrary, has nothing that is false, too highly colored, 
 or unnatural. Their feelings, words, and actions are perfectly 
 in keeping with the times. A severe but judicious French 
 critic of the beginning of this century, GeofFroy, cits sadly 
 when he criticises the conduct of Chimene, who repairs to 
 court in deep mourning to demand justice of the king. He 
 says that neither honor nor duty required that a young girl, 
 Avhose father had been killed, should ostentatiously display at 
 court her mourning and her grief, and loudly demand the blood 
 of the murderer. The king is aware of the combat, he knows 
 the murderer, he is wise and just. Chimene may trust to him 
 the case of punishing or forgiving. Geoffi-oy adds that his re- 
 flection is merely in a moral sense, not in a literary one, and 
 that what is extravagant according to tlie laws of honesty and 
 propriety is admirable in a dramatic and poetic sense; that 
 the stranger the character of Chimene, the more it is brilliant 
 and theati'ical. 
 
 This is not the place to refute the opinions of GcoflProy as 
 to the light in which he considers theatricals and their object, 
 but the opinion of the conduct of Corneille's heroine proves
 
 92 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 that the celebrated critic has never given much time to the 
 study of the early history of nations. This clamorous demand 
 for vengeance, carried to the foot of the throne, in all the pomp 
 of woe, by the widow and children of the murdered, is so fre- 
 quent in the annals of every European people that innumer- 
 able instances might be quoted. One in much later times, re- 
 lated by Monstrelet, Avill serve the present purpose. Speak- 
 ing of the events that followed the murder of the Duke of Or- 
 leans, in 1407, by order of the Duke of Burgundy, the old 
 chronicler says : 
 
 '• On the tenth day of December, the Duchess of Orleans, 
 widow to the late duke, with her youngest son John, and ac- 
 companied by the late Queen of England, now wife to her 
 eldest son, set out for Paris. The King of Sicily, the Dukes 
 of Berri and Bourbon, the Counts of Clermont and Vendfime, 
 the Lord Charles d'Albrct, constable of France, and many 
 other great lords, Avent out of the town to meet her, attended 
 by a number of people and horses, and thus escorted her to 
 the Hotel de St. Pol, where the king resided. Being instant- 
 ly admitted to an audience, she fell on her knees to the king, 
 and made a pitiful complaint to him of the very inhuman mur- 
 der of her lord and husband. The king, who at that time 
 was in his sound senses, having lately recovered from his ill- 
 ness, raised her up with tears, and assured her he would com- 
 ply with all her request, according to the opinion of his 
 
 council. 
 
 ********** 
 
 " On the Wednesday after St. Thomas's day, the Duchess 
 of Orleans, accompanied by her youngest son, the Queen 
 Dowager of England, her daughter-in-law, the Chancellor of 
 Orleans, and others of her council, and many of the knights 
 and esquires who had been of the household of the late duke, 
 all clothed in black, came to the Hotel of St. Pol to have an 
 audience of the king. She found there the King of Sicily, 
 the Duke of Bern and Bourbon, the Chancellor of France, 
 and several others, who, having demanded an audience for her 
 of the king, instantly obtained it. She was led into the pres- 
 ence by the Count d'Alen(;on, and with many tears, and be- 
 fore all the princes, again supplicated the king that lie would
 
 MEMOIKS OF KAOilKL. 93 
 
 do her justice to those wlio had traitorously murdered her lord 
 and husband, the late Duke of Orleans. 
 
 "Upon this, the duchess, her son John, and the Queen 
 Dowager of England, her daughter-in-law, cast themselves on 
 their knees before the king, and with abundance of tears sup- 
 plicated him to remember to do good justice on the perpetra- 
 tors of the murder of his brother." 
 
 The chief merit of Corneille, and herein he proved himself 
 superior even to Shakspeare, was, that he followed the model 
 he had chosen in all its details of time and place, and never 
 suffered an anachronism to destroy the scenic illusion. With 
 heart and head full of the historic and legendary lore of Spain, 
 he drew the portrait of a fitting mate for him who, to this 
 day, has remained the representative of the extinct virtues of 
 a past age — of a woman worthy to share the fortunes of Rod- 
 rigo del Bivar, the " Cid Canipcador." 
 
 In the " Komances del Cid" we have a most accurate pic- 
 ture of the age. Many of its customs, as there related, may 
 still be traced in remote nooks of some of the provinces, where, 
 alone, alas! some few vestiges of Spain yet survive. The 
 French dramatist made admirable use of his rich materials, 
 giving at times in two lines the true spirit and full effect of 
 the feelings and sentiments that in their original form, howev- 
 er powerful in their quaint expression, were inadmissible on 
 a modern stage. For instance, when the insulted old man 
 tries the muscles and courage of his son, the whole point of 
 the scene is rendered in that oft-quoted and splendid passage : 
 
 "Rodripue, as tu du coeiir? 
 Tout autre que mon pere 
 L'eprouverait sur rhcurc." 
 
 The remainder of the scene is almost literally taken from 
 the ballads. It is a pity that the great poet who did such 
 strict justice to his fine models did not bring in the character- 
 istic passage of the ballad wherein Rodrigo addresses his sword 
 — the sword of JMudarra — and which ends with the following 
 lines : 
 
 " Thou hast found, oh noble sword, a second master ; 
 shouldst thou e'er be vanquished, I'll hide the shame of thy 
 dishonored blade, even to the hilt, in my brcai't."
 
 94 ME3I0IKS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Of all the characters undertaken by Mademoiselle Rachel, 
 this proved the most complete failure — a failure, too, which 
 she never redeemed by any after excellence in it. Nature had 
 not unfitted her for it, but gross ignorance of the character 
 prevented her success. Even those actresses who have at- 
 tained a high degree of eminence in their art have miscon- 
 ceived the part of Chimcne. They have invariably presented 
 a woe-begone, tearful maid, whom filial duty compels to de- 
 mand the death of her lover, but who does so very reluctant- 
 ly, and is ready to unsay her words as soon as uttered. Mod- 
 ern critics ascribed the failure of Rachel to the lack of pathos, 
 and renewed the reproach that she was incapable of express- 
 ing the warmth of feeling, the moving tenderness of a child 
 of the sunny South. Chimcne is no more a child of the South 
 than of the North ; she is a being of an age and land known 
 to us only through tradition. Far from being the weeping, 
 love-sick, lackadaisical creature the French stage has always 
 presented, her unshed tears fall back on her heart in burning 
 showers. Comeille chose his heroine among the Spanish 
 women of the olden time, and, unfortunately, Rachel had nev- 
 er heard of them. The ancient Romanceros and Cancioneros, 
 the traditions and legends of Spain, its history tinged with the 
 rainbow hues of romance, had never excited her imagination, 
 accelerated the beat of her heart, or brought sympathetic tears 
 to her eyes. Her cold, calm pulse had never throbbed the 
 faster as she read of the struggles of the magnanimous Castil- 
 ian, defending his religion, and reconquering, inch by inch, 
 the land of his fathers from his no less noble Moorish foes. 
 Their deeds of brilliant valor and devoted patriotism had 
 found no responsive echo in her soul. Yet, without these 
 sympathetic emotions, the part of Cliimene or that of Rodrigo 
 is impossible. No matter how remote the action, the actor 
 must identify himself with the personage. It may be doubt- 
 ed, indeed, if Mademoiselle Rachel had ever heard of the 
 " Cid" before she — we will not say learned — but committed to 
 memory the role of his betrothed. She went blindly to the 
 task, without the slightest idea of the preparatory studies in- 
 dispensable to its performance — without the least conception 
 of the motives that influenced the will or determined the ac-
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 95 
 
 tions of a high-born Spanish maiden of the eleventh century, 
 to whom honor was the breath of life. She was wholly in- 
 capable of understanding the soul-tortures of her who demands 
 of the king the death of her lover for the death of her father, 
 even while her own bleeding heart acknowledges the justice 
 of the deed — even while her own lips confess that, had he 
 acted otherwise, she would have scorned the craven ! Yet, 
 of these terrible sacrifices of the dearest aiFections to the inex- 
 orable laws of honor, instances are frequent in the annals of 
 Spain. Mrs. Hemans chose a still more fearful one as the 
 theme of her "Siege of Valencia," a father dooming his two 
 innocent sons to death rather than give up to the besiegers 
 the town his king had intrusted to him. 
 
 To understand that the customs of the age made it highly 
 honorable for Chimcne to forego her vengeance subsequently, 
 and become the wife of him v/ho had killed her father, Rachel 
 should have read the ballad : 
 
 "Mate h, tu padre Ximena, 
 Pero no d desaquisado, 
 Matele de hombre a hombre 
 Para vengar cierto agravio, 
 Mate hombre y hombre doy, 
 Aquiestoy a tu mandado, 
 Yen Uigar del muerto padre 
 Cobraste marido honrado." 
 
 " I killed thy father, Ximena, but not in treacherous wise. 
 I killed him man to man, to avenge a certain grief. I killed 
 a man, a man I give. Therefore stand I at thy command, 
 and for thy father dead, an honored husband offer." 
 
 li Chimcne is right in demanding her lover's life for her fa- 
 ther's, she is also justified in forgiving him. Eodrigo offers 
 her, in accordance with the customs of the age, the blood of 
 conquered Moors in expiation of her father's. 
 
 Eachel had neither the gait, the look, nor the voice of her 
 who boldly reminds her sovereign that 
 
 "Key que no haste justicia 
 Non debia de reinarc, 
 Ni cabalgar en caballo 
 Ni espucla de oro calzare."
 
 96 MK.MOIKS OF KAOHEL. 
 
 "Tlie king that grants not justice deserveth not to reign, 
 nor should he steed bestride, nor wear a golden spur." 
 
 Yet who better than Rachel could have uttered the com- 
 manding appeal of the spirited daughter of Count Gormaz ? 
 
 Even for her dress Rachel would have done well to have 
 consulted the costumes of the eleventh century, so minutely 
 described in those same old ballads. Her attire, especially 
 the pink gown of the first act, would not have presented so 
 pitiful an anachronism. 
 
 The result of all this ignorance and presumption was that, 
 at the finest passage of the rok, a noisy and energetic protest, 
 mingled with hisses, greeted the injudicious applause with 
 which her partisans endeavored to sustain the actress. A 
 dead silence succeeded. 
 
 Thus once more fell the play that has done so much honor 
 to Corneille, the master-piece, the original success of which 
 so nettled the jealousy of the Cardinal de Richelieu that, ac- 
 cording to Fontenelle, he loould rather have seen the Spaniards 
 at the gates of Paris. Mademoiselle Rachel might, with good 
 reason, have said Med cuIjmI, med maximd culpa. She had 
 acted neither the traditional Chimbie of the French stage, nor 
 the chivalrous Ximena of the Spanish legends ; she had pre- 
 sented a pale, wishy-washy nondescript no modern public 
 would accept, and which the Cid certainly never would have 
 recognized. 
 
 The " Ariane" of Thomas Corneille was revived oti the 7th 
 of May. No two dramas could differ more essentially than 
 did the one Mademoiselle Rachel had so lately failed in and 
 this one. " Ariane" is as dull, as stupid, as full of improba- 
 ble actions and impossible situations, as replete with lame, 
 halting, hollow, vapid, wretched poetry, without rhyme, and, 
 certes, without reason, and as full of grammatical errors, as 
 the " Cid" is interesting, energetic, natural, and full of mag- 
 nificent passages. 
 
 This dull, insipid elegy contains nothing heroic, noble, or 
 dramatic. The desertion of Theseus is almost justified by the 
 contempt we feel for the heroine, than whom a more unwor- 
 thy was never chosen by an author. The little interest there 
 is is concentrated in Ariadne, but the very few fine passages
 
 ME5IOIKS OF KACHEr,, 97 
 
 can not compensate the monotony of her long lamentations or 
 the insignificance of the other dramatis personce. Tiie play 
 was indebted for its success, when first brought out in 1672, 
 to the celebrated Mademoiselle de Champmeste, who played 
 the part o^Ariad/ie. Of this actress and of the tragedy Mad- 
 ame de Sevigne has left us the following opinion : 
 
 "La Champmeste is something so extraordinary that in 
 your life you never saw her equal ; it is the actress we seek, 
 and not the play. I have seen 'Ariane' for the sake of La 
 Champmeste only. The play is insipid, the players wretched ; 
 but when La Champmeste comes in a murmur is heard, every 
 body is in raptures ; her despair makes every one weep." 
 
 This charming actress, among whose devoted admirers were 
 the greatest poets of her time — this idol, to whom La Fontaine 
 dedicated his tale of " Belphegor," and whom he praised in 
 lines such as he alone could write — for whom Racine wrote 
 several of his master-pieces — La Champmeste had neither ed- 
 ucation nor natural wit. Perhaps with her illustrious friends 
 this ignorance may not have been the least of her attractions. 
 Having inquired of Racine whence he had taken the subject 
 of " Athalie," he answered, from the " Old Testament." 
 "You had better have taken it from the 'New,'" said she; 
 "it would have been more fashionable." 
 
 She remained on the stage, exciting admiration and enthu- 
 siasm, to her death, at the age of fifty-seven, in 1698. Short- 
 ly befox'e she died, some one attempting to bring her mind to 
 the serious contemplation of the future state she was about 
 entering, she replied, " Oh, well, well, if Paradise be so pleas- 
 ant a place, there is, no doubt, a theatre, and in tliat case God 
 the Father will not be sorry to see me make my debut there." 
 
 A centftry later, another stage celebrity. Mademoiselle Clai- 
 ron, endeavored to reconcile the forsakeu Ariadne with the pub- 
 lic ; with what success may be judged by the reply the actress 
 made to a lord of the bedchamber who was complaining that 
 the curtain was allowed to fall at the fourth act : " 3Ia foi, 
 monseigneur," said she, " I would like to see what sort of 
 countenance you would have in the fifth act if you had been 
 hissed without cessation during the preceding ones." Yet 
 Mademoiselle Clairon was beautiful, and not only talented in 
 
 E
 
 98 MEMOmS OF RACHEL. 
 
 her profession, but of excellent and well-cultivated intellect. 
 Of the effect she produced in even so poor a part the follow- 
 ing anecdote is told. 
 
 She was speaking the passage in which Ariadne, in doubt as 
 to who is the rival that has robbed her of Theseu^ heart, says, 
 
 "Est ce Megiste Egle qui le rend infidele?" 
 when a man from the pit loudly exclaimed, " It's Phedre ; it's 
 
 that of a Phedre." Though course in its expression, 
 
 this confirmation of the illusion her acting produced was not 
 a little gratifying to the actress. 
 
 What her predecessors in the seventeenth and eighteenth 
 centuries had failed in accomplishing. Mademoiselle Rachel 
 was not more fortunate in achieving in the nineteenth. 
 
 Yet, with all its defects, the tragedy of Thomas Corneille 
 offered in the subject so great an analogy with the "Andro- 
 maque" of Eacine, that the actress whose most successful role 
 had always been the part of Hermione, found herself at home 
 in that oi Ariadne. A critic of the day remai'ked that her 
 slight figure, her pale brow, her deep-set black eyes, her nerv- 
 ous, feverish demeanor, her small head, reminding the specta- 
 tor of that of a viper standing'erect on its tail, her bitter smile, 
 her nostrils swollen with disdain, her ferocity of tone and her 
 explosions of rage, bore certainly no resemblance to the Mel- 
 pomene of antiquity, that grand and noble figure whose beau- 
 ty no excess of grief can alter, and who, even as she falls stab- 
 bed to the heart, is mindful of the graceful folds of hei: tunic, 
 even in the last convulsion of her agony. Yet all these dis- 
 tinguishing characteristics contributed only to the partial suc- 
 cess of the forsaken bride of Theseus. Mademoiselle Eacliel 
 did her utmost to sustain the play, and it certainly required 
 all her talent and the greatest exertions to make it acceptable. 
 The selection of this wretched piece was very unfortunate, and 
 it will be seen that her next revival was no less so. 
 
 With " Ariane" closed the Parisian season of 1842, and in 
 July Mademoiselle Rachel hastened back to London, where 
 she hoped for triumphs that would compensate the decrease 
 of her popularity at home. But some little matters had come 
 to light since her last trip that had greatly lessened the es- 
 teem in which she was once held there ; the novelty, too, was
 
 MKMOIRS OF RACHEL. 99 
 
 gone, the enthusiasm had gone down somewhat, and, to INIadc- 
 moiselle Rachel's great disappointment, she found her star pale 
 before the two planets, Boutfe and Dejazet, who in succession 
 crossed the Channel this year. 
 
 Rather disgusted with the fickleness of her English public, 
 and annoyed that she should have to share the favor she had 
 hitherto enjoyed alone, Rachel soon left for Antwerp, where 
 she arrived on the 17th of July. 
 
 The most brilliant success attained by Rachel was that she 
 had this year in Brussels. The first night the house brouo-ht 
 in 7500 francs ; the second, 8300 francs. Total, 15,800 francs 
 in two evenings. 
 
 The following table will show how great were the pecuni- 
 ary advantages IMademoiselle Rachel derived from her conges. 
 
 She arrived in Brussels on the evening of the 18th of July, 
 and left that city to return to Paris on the 31st of August. 
 In that time she performed twelve nights. These twelve 
 nights put more than 30,000 francs in the pocket of the cele- 
 brated actress. With the addition of three scenes performed 
 in Ghent on the 24th of August, it will be seen that the forty- 
 four days she spent in Belgium averaged more than 800 francs 
 eaclij or, counting only the twelve nights she played, each per- 
 formance brought her in 2500 francs. 
 
 The Theatre Fran^ais undertook to celebrate this year the 
 annivcrsaiy of Corneille's birth. The plays given were " Le 
 Cid" and " Le Menteur." The bust of Corneille was crowned 
 on the stage. The fete might be called a family one ; as the 
 name of Mademoiselle Rachel was not on the bills, the public, 
 who cared for the great master only when he was interpreted 
 by her, kept away, and the receipts did not exceed 500 francs ! 
 AVhen Mademoiselle Mars retired, the admirers of Moliere 
 mourned his master-pieces as forever exiled from the stage. 
 At the death of Talma, Corneille and Racine became forjiot- 
 ten gods until the fire was rekindled on their altars by Made- 
 moiselle Rachel. On the sixth of June this year, the young 
 priestess had carried her gods and their worship elsewhere, and 
 the Parisians did not even notice that this celebration of Cor- 
 neille's birth-day was a novelty. The following year, when 
 the day came, she was in Rouen, and the Theatre Fran^ais
 
 100 MEMOIKS OF KACHEL. 
 
 refrained from attempting to show to the memory of Corneille 
 a homage that in that deserted house was equivalent to an 
 insult. It was not until the year 1844, when Mademoiselle 
 Rachel was in Paris, that the celebration of this day was reg- 
 ularly instituted. 
 
 The reappearance of Mademoiselle Rachel in September 
 was effected very quietly, without any of the usual attempts 
 to insure a brilliant reception. Her friends argued very judi- 
 ciously that these efforts should be reserved for the cases in 
 which they were really necessary, but that in the present one 
 the fame the actress had acquired abroad heralded with suffi- 
 cient eclat her appearance at home. _ Whenever signs of cool- 
 ness were visible on the Parisian horizon, the tongues of rumor 
 were set to work to excite a new sensation ; puffs, bulletins, 
 private correspondence published for the benefit of the public, 
 «fec., &c., all the resources of the art of getting up an excite- 
 ment, were made use of. 
 
 The tragedy of " Fredegonde et Brunehaut" of Mr. Lemer- 
 cier was announced as being in rehearsal, and excited great 
 expectations from the opinion then prevailing that the role of 
 Fredegonde was particularly well adapted to Rachel's powers. 
 This was a gi-eat mistake. Rachel had been all her life the 
 organ of the great classic poets ; accustomed to the majesty, 
 the measured dignity, the pomp and grandeur of the sonorous 
 Alexandrine, her clear, distinct enunciation brought out every 
 beauty in bold relief, but, unfortunately, it did the same with 
 every fault. She had not acquired the art of disguising er- 
 rors, strengthening weak points, and gliding over unpardona- 
 ble ones, of concealing under the warmth and vivacity of de- 
 livery the meagreness of the author's style. The wretched 
 poeti'y of " Fredegonde" was absolutely unbearable uttered by 
 the lips of Mademoiselle Rachel ; and this attempted resurrec- 
 tion added a third failure to the unfortunate experiments of 
 this year. Yet the subject of this tragedy was one that offer- 
 ed abundant materials to a clever pen. Modern authors con- 
 tinue to seek in the worn annals of Greece and Rome their 
 plot and dramatis persona;, neglecting the inexhaustible stores 
 the history of their own country affords ; and when they do 
 attempt any one of its fertile subjects, there seems to be a fa-
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 101 
 
 tality attached to them — the execution is so poor, the poetical 
 garb so mean, the accessories introduced are in such bad taste, 
 that they manage to despoil the theme of every original beau- 
 ty. " Fredegonde et Brunehaut," " Jeanne d'Arc," and oth- 
 ers, have been proofs of this. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 1843. 
 
 First Step in Life as a Free "Woman. — A Portrait au moral et au phys- 
 ique. — Corroboratory Anecdotes. — Mademoiselle Aveiiel. — The Cash- 
 box. — The Fascination of Gold on different Minds. — Making Collec- 
 tions. — Expensive Fancies. — The Guitar. 
 
 It was in the Rue de Luxembourg that the long-looked-for 
 hour of Rachel's majority at last da\\Tied. The first use she 
 made of her enfranchisement was to loosen the paternal gripe 
 that had hitherto been fastened on her earnings. There was 
 good reason for her impatience in this instance. Though her 
 talent and constant and fatiguing exertions had raised the fam- 
 ily to a position which, compared with the one they previous- 
 ly held, was very brilliant ; though her younger sisters and 
 her brother were being educated at her expense, and though 
 her money clothed, housed, and fed them all, the old man al- 
 lowed her out of her handsome salary but 300 francs per 
 month for her dress, theatrical costumes, and pocket-money ! 
 The sum was altogether inadequate to her requirements, and 
 this grievance had occasioned frequent bickerings, all to no 
 avail, until the day arrived when the father knew he had no 
 legal right to dispose of his daughter's property. Even then 
 there was a violent quarrel on the subject, and the upshot was 
 that Rachel marched out of the house, taking nothing but 
 what she had on, and installed herself in an apartment on the 
 Quai Voltaire, which she furnished handsomely, leaving to her 
 parents all the furniture of that of the Rue de Luxembourg. 
 
 The decisive step Raehel had taken was attributed by the 
 family to the advice of a male friend whose influence was then 
 \Qvj great with her, and, fearful that this influence might be 
 extended still farther to their prejudice, they took an early
 
 102 ME310IES OF KACHEL. 
 
 opportunity to break the friendly tie. Surrounded as she was, 
 this was no difficult matter ; vanity and love of conquest on 
 one side, jealousy on the other, afforded excellent grounds, and 
 the friends parted to meet no more for ten years, when they 
 met again under peculiarly sad circumstances, each havin"f 
 been recently bereaved of a most dear friend. 
 
 Though the scene of separation from her relatives had been 
 very violent, the reconciliation was soon effected. The fugi- 
 tive was too valuable a member of the family for any rupture 
 to be of long duration. Rachel, too, was never unkind to her 
 parents. Whatever were the faults of her race, nature, or 
 education — whatever errors she may have fallen into, her 
 generosity toward all the members of her family, pai-ticularly 
 toward her father and mother, has been unceasinjr. She left 
 them all the apartment they lived in contained, and gave her 
 father a pension of 12,000 francs, and to her mother, for her 
 private use, one of 4000 francs : these sums were paid yearly 
 T\dth great regularity. Besides these pensions, she was al- 
 ways lavish of gifts to all the members of her famil}'-, repeat- 
 edly paying the debts of her elder sister, and constantly exert- 
 ing her influence to obtain engagements and high salaries for 
 her brother and sisters. 
 
 But, though an excellent daughter and kind sister, she did 
 not manifest her affection in so romantic a manner as the 
 newspaper anecdotes would have it believed. A very aflfect- 
 ing trait of sisterly solicitude, in which Eachel was made to 
 play the part of the beneficent fairy in the story-books, was 
 published lately. The tale ran as follows : 
 
 Rachel and Rebecca Avere playing Tkle and Catarina in 
 "Angelo." Delighted with Rebecca's success, Rachel hired a 
 handsome apartment, furnished it suitably, omitting nothing, 
 from the house-linen in the clothes-press to the wine, wood, 
 and <;oals, with which the cellars were well stocked. AVhen all 
 was in readiness, one night after the play she took her sister 
 to see her new domain, saying, as she placed the key — not 
 Aiigeld's — in Catarina: s hand, 
 
 " My dear, you have played like an angel, and I have pro- 
 vided your reward ; all this is yours." 
 
 This delightful little surprise, got up at a cost of 15,000
 
 MEMOIRS OP RACHEL. 103 
 
 francs, properly enhanced by the description of the joy of the 
 younger sister, the aflccting embrace, the emotion of friends 
 witnessing the pathetic scene, and the excellence of the supper 
 that was the finale — for even that had been provided by the 
 provident donor — constituted a pretty little episode for the 
 biography of liachel, to which only one objection could be 
 made — its lack of truth. "Whatever might be the affection of 
 the tragedienne for this sister, it never led her to such a dem- 
 onstration. When Eebecca died she had not finished paying 
 for the furniture which she had herself purchased for her 
 apartment ; she was, moreover, so much in debt that the fam- 
 ily made no claim to what she left, lest they should have to 
 pay the creditors, for whose benefit, therefore, every thing was 
 sold at auction. 
 
 All the Felixes have been accustomed to look to Rachel, 
 and with good reason, as their main stay and support. They 
 repay and keep up the fiow of generosity by a continual ado- 
 ration of tlie idol that sometimes takes the most ludicrous 
 forms. When she plays, the mother and sisters go off into 
 ecstasies of delight, clapping their hands, citing out Brava ! 
 bravissima! vociferating " Was ever the like seen! She is 
 an angel! Adorable! divine!" &c., and ending the farce by 
 throwing their ready-prepared bouquets on the stage. It re- 
 quires the really extraordinaiy talent of Rachel to make man- 
 agers tolerate these silly scenes. But Rachel has reigned su- 
 preme and despotic behind the curtain throughout her career. 
 From the manager to the fireman and scene-shifter, all have 
 been the cringing slaves of her will, dreading her frown, dis- 
 puting her smiles, attentive to her slightest wish. At the 
 Theatre Frantjais, king or emperor, even the government that 
 supports it, none have the regal despotic power exercised there 
 by Rachel. At the hour for the curtain to rise a respectful 
 knock is heard at the door, followed by the words, " Is mad- 
 ame quite ready"? Will madame have the goodness to say 
 when the signal shall be given." The answer is, " In ten or 
 fifteen minutes — presently — noiv" &c., as she pleases; no one 
 else is consulted, though all the other actors arc bound to hold 
 themselves in readiness at the hour. Her word was law. As 
 to authors, we will not shame the world of belles-lettres by
 
 104 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 mentioning the degree of base servility to wliicli some of the 
 illustrious of modern literature have unblushingly stooped to 
 please this queen of the buskin. The acts of injustice done 
 to other actors and actresses to make room for some very in- 
 ferior talent, merely because its possessor bore the name of 
 Felix, are recorded in the memory of many a poor sufferer. 
 The advancement, the interest of her own family were sought 
 without regard to any considerations of equity or even grati- 
 tude. A flagrant instance of this occurred in the case of a 
 very charming and deserving actress, who personated with 
 remarkable talent the suivantes of Moliere. Mademoiselle 
 Aveuel had consented to accompany Rachel on several of her 
 foreign tours, and had proved one of the most efficient mem- 
 bers of her company. But absence, especially in the position 
 of Mademoiselle Aveuel, is always dangerous. On her return 
 she found herself without any engagement. jMademoiselle 
 Rachel immediately proffered her powerful influence, and per- 
 suaded her to take no steps whatever, as she took it upon her- 
 self to obtain the engagement at the Theatre Frangais. She 
 appointed an hdftr for Mademoiselle Aveuel to call upon the 
 manager, saying she would have the whole thing settled by 
 that time. Rachel kept her word ; when Mademoiselle Aveu- 
 el, punctual to a minute, was wending her way to the man- 
 ager's office, she met Sarah, who was leaving it, and who in- 
 formed her with gi'eat glee that she had just signed a very ad- 
 vantageous engagement that her sister had procured for her. 
 Poor Mademoiselle Aveuel's heart sank at this communica- 
 tion, but she went in notwithstanding. The thing was too 
 true : Mademoiselle Rachel had obtained the contract — for 
 her sister. The victim had unfortunately no protection, no 
 means of advancement. 
 
 A few words are due here to this charming actress, whose 
 pure mind and strict principles contributed as much as her 
 real talent to make her an honor to her profession. Aline 
 Aveuel, who had entered the Conseifatoire about the same 
 time as the tragedienne, made her debut in 1839, and obtained 
 great success in another line of the dramatic art. She was 
 one of the best representatives of Moliere's soubrettes that had 
 been seen for many years on the boards of the Theatre Fran-
 
 MEMOIRS OF EACHEL. 105 
 
 (jais. An indefatigable and conscientious stvident of the art 
 she professed, she studied it con amove. Her firm, distinct, 
 and correct diction, the discrimination, good taste, and expres- 
 sion of her pantomime, her bright, lively eyes, clear-toned, 
 pleasant voice, fitted her admirably for the characters of the 
 JVicoles, Dorines, and Marinettes, those malapert and piquant 
 match-makers and match-marrers, always helping miss to 
 frustrate papa's wise plans, and themselves the darlings of the 
 laughter-loving public. Mademoiselle Aveuel subsequently 
 quitted the Theatre Frant^ais for reasons it is not our prov- 
 ince to explain, and accompanied JMaderaoiselle Eachel in 
 many of her professional excursions into England, Germany, 
 and Italy, taking an altogether different branch to that she 
 had hitherto performed in, but one in which she proved her- 
 self possessed of no little ability. Her fine form and com- 
 manding figure, that w^ere rather objections in the role of the 
 dapper little souhrette, gave admirable relief to those of the 
 proud Duchess de Bouillon in " Adrienne Lecouvreur," and 
 of the Countess in " Lady Tartufle." 
 
 The sterling qualities of Mademoiselle Aveuel, the unswerv- 
 ing rectitude of her conduct, had opened before her the doors 
 of some of the most aristocratic salons in Paris. But no suc- 
 cess in private life could fill the void left in her heart by the 
 loss of her professional career. She passionately loved her 
 art, and the hopes so long deferred, the sickening disappoint- 
 ments she suffered in attempting to regain the pldce she had 
 lost, contributed no little to hasten her death, which took 
 place on the 26th of April, 1857. 
 
 Of all the sisters, Rachel is considered to have been the 
 only one capable of acting to the life that most difficult of all 
 parts for the parvenu, the role of a gentlewoman. There was 
 a dignity de grande dame about her, an ease and grace that 
 procured her as much admiration as her talent. She entered 
 the splendid aristocratic sphere into which her successful debuts 
 had obtained admittance for her without manifesting vanity 
 or surprise ; she seemed literally to the manner born, and ac- 
 cepted the favors of fortune as her due. There was a witch- 
 ery about her that bafHes description. Her very worst ene- 
 mies, persons whom she has the most deeply wronged, acknowl- 
 
 E2
 
 106 JVIEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 ege this fascination, and say it was impossible to come within 
 the sphere of her influence without being Avon and completely 
 subdued, if she chose to will it. In fact, very little outward 
 change had taken place in her since she wore the little calico 
 frock and trowsers at the Cours of St. Aulaire, save that she 
 had grown and was better dressed. The same calm, grave 
 expression of face, and, it must be owned, something of the 
 elf tricks and capricious temper remained. She has frequent- 
 ly been known to ask some of her young friends to dine or 
 take tea with her; when the guest arrived the hostess was 
 gone out. When reproached with her uncivil conduct, she 
 would make some plausible excuse, appoint another day, and 
 renew her breach of word. Exceedingly courteous and kind- 
 ly in manner, if any thing belonging to her appeared to please 
 her visitor, her first impulse was to offer it, to press it urgent- 
 ly on the acceptance of the person who admired it. If any 
 hesitation was shown, she threatened to send it home to her 
 friend. If the gift so persistingly offered was accepted, Ra- 
 chel's Jew nature regained the ascendency. She repented her 
 prodigal generosity ; the bauble she had bestowed became an 
 indispensable necessity, just the thing she could not do with- 
 out, and she had no rest till she had sent to request it to be 
 returned ! 
 
 At times she met with some resistance in this particular. 
 Obstinate people took her at her word, and made her give 
 what she had promised, or they kept what she had given them. 
 She had a way of saying, if any jewel she wore, or article of 
 virtu in her rooms was admired, " I wish I could offer this to 
 
 you, but it was a present from the Prince of or the Duke 
 
 of , and I can not ; you shall, however, have one just like 
 
 it ; I know where to get the mate, and you will give me great 
 pleasure by your acceptance. Oh, you shall, I insist upon it ; 
 you would not disoblige me, &c., &c., &c." This generally 
 took place before a number of persons, and, as the promised 
 present was usually of value, conveyed a high opinion of her 
 generosity to those who did not know her, while it was veiy 
 annoying to those who did, and were considered the recipients 
 of these generous gifts. 
 
 She one day said to a friejid who was admiring a very beau-
 
 MEMOIRS OF KACIIEL. 107 
 
 tifuUy-carved and embroidered chair, " I am glad you like it : 
 it is my work, and you shall have it to remember me." 
 
 "You give it to mc, then*?" 
 
 " Cei'tainly, and I shall have it sent to your rooms." 
 
 " I am exceedingly obliged to you, and shall not trouble 
 you to send it, but, since you are so good as to give it me, shall 
 take it now." 
 
 Kachel laughed ; it was not an article he could put in his 
 pocket. But the friend knew her, and was resolved not to be 
 fooled. He ran down stairs and was back again in a moment 
 with a commissionaire, who bore off the prize. 
 
 To Leon de Beauvallet she gave a sabre of fine Turkish 
 Avoi'kraanship. " She can not ask to have it back," said he, 
 " for I have had a chain put to it." 
 
 The anecdotes told of her ostentatious generosity without 
 expense to herself are very numerous, but not all very reha- 
 ble ; for the truth of the following we do not pretend to vouch. 
 
 In 1853, Marguet, formerly a Suisse in the service of Louis 
 Philippe, but who had subsequently been long attached to the 
 Theatre Fran(;ais in the humble capacity of call-boy, retired. 
 As he was universally liked, the sociciaircs subscribed 20 francs 
 each to buy him a snuff-box. Mademoiselle Eachel undertook 
 the purchase, and had the following inscription engraved on 
 the lid : " Mademoiselle Eachel a Marguet." 
 
 There was a constant struggle in her, nature and early hab- 
 its of parsimony being ever at variance with the wish to be 
 thought generous, with the love of ostentation. These con- 
 flicting impulses frequently led to a betrayal of feelings the 
 very reverse of Avhat she intended to exhibit. The story of 
 the pine-apple will give some idea of this apparent inconsist- 
 ency. Having occasion to give a dinner to a number of em- 
 inent personages, she ordered her desert at Chevet's. Among 
 the expensive hot-house fruit selected was a pine-apple. At 
 this epoch — 1848 — so few dinners were given that it was 
 scarcely worth while to import this tropical fruit ; it was con- 
 sequently rare and dear. Rather than give the exorbitant 
 price asked — 70 francs — for the one she desired should form 
 the pinnacle of her pyramidal desert, yet unwilling to give up 
 the pleasure of seeing it admired there, she chose a compro-
 
 108 MEMOIRS OP RACHEL. 
 
 raise, and hired it. Unfortunately, she had been accompanied 
 to Chevet's by a mischievous friend, who, at desert, wickedly 
 sugacsted to one of the noble guests the cutting of the orna- 
 mental summit. As the duke inserted the knife into the sacred 
 fruit, the hostess, losing all command of her feelings, uttered a 
 piercing shriek. " Was the heart of Mademoiselle Rachel 
 hidden in that pine T' queried a well-known poet. 
 
 Nothing could restore the good-humor of the tragedienne. 
 She had not hesitated to give a dinner that cost her 1200 
 francs ; she was wretched at having been disappointed in her 
 scheme to save 70 francs. 
 
 Kachel was herself so well aware of being a great promiser, 
 and as backward to fulfill as she was ready to promise, that, 
 alluding to this propensity, she said to a friend once, "If I 
 were obliged to give all I have ever promised, the possession 
 of the whole world would not furnish me wherewith." The 
 reason of this seeming contradiction was, that the constant 
 wish to please every one about her, to purchase their good- 
 will by every possible sacrifice, actuated lier first impulse : she 
 had no sooner obeyed it than the fear of having lessened her 
 possessions took the alarm, and undid what the love of ad- 
 miration had done. 
 
 This incessant craving for admiration kept her continually 
 on the alert. Elle 2^ose toujours is said by all who know her ; 
 that is, she felt always before the foot-lights, and Avas as de- 
 sirous of obtaining the praise of the porter at the gate as that 
 of the lord of the chateau. vShe was one day with her sister 
 S9,rah at her house in the valley of Montmorenci while some 
 repairs were being made. As they sat alone together, Rachel 
 remarked how inconvenient stiflf skirts w^ere. 
 
 " Why do you wear them when we are here alone ?" said 
 Sarah. 
 
 "Oh dear," cried the tragedienne, "I couldn't think of be- 
 ing seen by the workmen so thin and scraggy as I look with- 
 out a crinoline !" 
 
 In this strange being, in whom great, even sublime things 
 w^cre mingled with the petty littlenesses, the trivialities, the 
 meannesses inherent to the lower class of the race, there Avas 
 one passion that predominated over all the rest, and to which
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 109 
 
 her woman's vanity, her artist's pride gave way ; to which her 
 very genius was made the subservient tool — that passion which 
 was born with her — the love of gold. Beyond this there was 
 nothing in life. An incident, related by herself, will give some 
 idea of the extreme to which it was carried. 
 
 Shortly after she had attained her majority, she had gone 
 to Marseilles, where, for one night's performance, she was to 
 receive 3000 francs. On the day after the performance, the 
 money was brought to her in a chest. At that time gold was 
 not the common medium of circulation it has since become, 
 and payments, even of large sums, were often made in silver. 
 Rachel was recently emancipated from the parental trammels ; 
 she had never had in her own possession any thing like this 
 amount. At sight of this box, full of five-franc pieces, this 
 quantity of money all hers, her eyes dilated, and fastened upon 
 it with an intensity that was almost painful to behold ; to use 
 her own words, worthy of an actress accustomed to a tragic 
 style, she felt the ferocious joy of an animal that has the long- 
 loishedfor prey ivithin its clutches. There was no childish ex- 
 ultation, no outward delight, none of the exultant pride of the 
 girl who has by her own exertions earned a large sum, no 
 feminine feelings of pleasant anticipation of the many pretty 
 fancies this sum could gratify : no, it was a quiet, inward, sav- 
 age enjoyment of the money itself, independent of all associa- 
 tions generally connected with it. She ordered the box to be 
 placed before her by her bedside, and, plunging her hands into 
 it, kept stirring the silver about. 
 
 " Never," said she to the person to whom she related this, 
 " never had I seen so many five-franc pieces together, and all 
 belonging to me." 
 
 She kept the box by her, and the feeling, sordid, rapacious, 
 possessed her throughout the night. 
 
 The fascination exercised by gold on the human mind, ac- 
 cording to the character, temper, &c., of the person on whom 
 it acts, is extremely diversified in its effects ; were these al- 
 ways candidly acknowledged, the insight thus obtained would 
 afford matter for interesting studv. An instance of this sin- 
 gular influence occurred within the knowledge of the writer. 
 A very young lady received a sum of 3000 dollars shortly
 
 110 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 after her marriage. Though the daughter of persons in good 
 circumstances, she had never had so large a sum at her own 
 disposah The sight of this number of gold pieces produced 
 an effect similar to that she would have felt had she been 
 drinking vi^ine — a species of intoxication. When she. retired 
 to bed, she spread the money on the sheets and slept upon it ! 
 Yet this person was the very reverse of avaricious. Accord- 
 ing to her own analysis of her feelings, it was the conscious- 
 ness of the power gold represented that gave it so great a 
 charm. The feeling was, however, as short-lived as it was 
 sudden. 
 
 Less innocent effects of this fascination have brought its 
 victims within the pale of a criminal court. Among these 
 unfortunates was, of late years, a young man of respectable 
 parentage, who had always borne an excellent character for 
 strict integrity. Having obtained a situation with a chemist, 
 he was one day left alone before an open drawer containing a 
 large sum of money. The temptation overpowered his natural 
 honesty. Being subsequently asked by the magistrate how it 
 happened that he, who had been so well brought up, whose 
 principles of honesty had hitherto been so firm, should have 
 committed an act that seated him on the bench with hardened 
 thieves, he replied that he was not in his senses, for the in- 
 stant he "fixed his eyes on the drawer the fever of gold ascended 
 to his brain ! 
 
 To gratify this insatiate desire to add continually to her 
 store, Kachel is said to have tasked her inventive powers, and 
 generally with the success that attended all her undertakings. 
 The following anecdote was current among her acquaintances : 
 On one occasion she announced to her numerous friends and 
 admirers that she had a perfect passion for emeralds, and in- 
 tended making a collection of those beautiful gems. For this 
 purpose she had already procured a very fine one, which she 
 complacently exhibited to one of the titled sons of fortune 
 who followed in the train of the tragic muse as the gift of a 
 competitor in the race for her good graces. The appeal was 
 understood and responded to with a contribution of course 
 more valuable than the specimen exhibited, the last gift in 
 turn doing duty as a decoy to draw others, until the collec-
 
 MICMOIRS OF KACHKL. Ill 
 
 tion was large as it was rich and rare, no one being willing to 
 be outdone by his predecessor. This manoeuvre, varied ac- 
 cording to the victim played upon, brought into the lady's 
 jewel casket some thirty or forty of the finest emeralds in 
 Paris, each gem set with more or less magnificence, and some 
 surrounded with brilliants. 
 
 The following year the whim was for rubies, and finally 
 the lady raised a sapphire tax. When her ingenuity or the 
 generosity of her contributors was exhausted, a jeweler was 
 sent for, to whom the valued and valuable souvenirs were sold 
 for the price that could be obtained : the money was put where 
 it brouo-ht in better interest than in its former more brilliant 
 but less profitable shape. 
 
 The story of the guitar has been told in a variety of ways ; 
 the following is reported to be the most authentic version : 
 
 Every one has heard of the grand vizier who had once been 
 a shepherd-boy, and who, having attained to the summit of 
 power, desirous of being kept in remembrance of his early pov- 
 erty, had hung up in a room of his sumptuous palace the hum- 
 ble garb, the shepherd's crook, of his boyhood. A report was 
 long afloat that, following this excellent example. Mademoi- 
 selle Eachel had hung on her gilded walls the time-worn 
 guitar of the barefooted street-minstrel. The groundwork of 
 this affecting anecdote is quite true : there is or icas a guitar, 
 and that guitar occupied a conspicuous and honorable place 
 among the splendid ornaments of Mademoiselle Rachel's bou- 
 doir. The celebrated artiste had noticed at the house of a 
 friend a guitar of most respectable antiquity, the original color 
 of which had long ago disappeared under the thick black crust 
 with which Time had coated it. 
 
 "Arc you much attached to that piece of lumber?" quoth 
 Rachel to Madame S., the owner : " would you mind giving 
 it tome?" 
 
 " Oh no, indeed," was the reply, " I shall be glad to get rid 
 of it." 
 
 The maid was sent off with the guitar to Rachel's lodgings. 
 
 A few days after it was the turn of an intimate male friend 
 to notice the instrument, but this time it hung, enveloped in 
 a beautiful silk net, through the bright meshes of which its
 
 112 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 black back was plainly visible, on the gilded Avail of an ele- 
 gant boudoir. 
 
 " What in the world have you there ?" quoth the visitor. 
 
 " That," said Rachel, assuming a sentimental attitude, " that 
 is the humble guitar, the faithful companion with which, in 
 the days of my childhood, I earned the scanty pittance be- 
 stowed on the poor little street-singer." 
 
 " Good heavens ! can it be possible ? How very interest- 
 ing ! Oh, I beg, I entreat you to let me become the fortunate 
 possessor of that inestimable treasure ! To me, to the world, 
 to history, a precious memento ; to future generations, a price- 
 less legacy!" exclaimed Mr. in the glow of his enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 " Oh, I can never, never consent to part with it." 
 
 *' I must have it, uk ^^ny cost ; do not deny me this gift, to 
 be held as a sacred relic ; and permit me to offer you, as a 
 poor exchange, the set of diamonds and rubies you appeared 
 to admire some days ago at the jeweler's." 
 
 " Ah ! well," quoth the tragic muse, heaving a deep sigh, 
 " since you will have it, I can not refuse you." 
 
 The historical instrument obtained so cheaply, at a cost of 
 some 50,000 francs, was triumphantly installed in the aristo- 
 cratic apartment of its new owner, who exhibited it to every 
 caller, narrating its pathetic origin with the emphatic delivery 
 of a showman at a fair. Unfortunately, the original possessor 
 happened to have occasion to call on the noble count, and, rec- 
 ognizing the present she had made to Rachel, uttered an ex- 
 clamation of surprise. An explanation followed, given with- 
 out malice prepense ; for Madame S., quite ignorant of the 
 mischief she was doing, destroyed the romance attached to the 
 relic so dearly purchased. Rachel repented too late not hav- 
 ing warned her unconscious accomplice. As for the count, 
 he could not forgive himself for having been so readily the 
 dupe of his own unsuspecting enthusiasm. 
 
 Some one who heard of this successful little speculation and 
 somewhat doubted its truth, mentioned the report to Made- 
 moiselle Rachel, thinking to hear her give it an indignant de- 
 nial. But the heroine only laughed, exclaiming, " Poor , 
 
 how furious be was !"
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 113 
 
 Out of the circle of her own family Kiichel -was accused of 
 having no consideration for any interest but her own. "SVith 
 her there was no artistic fraternity ; she would crush every 
 appearance of talent that entered her sphere, and has commit- 
 ted, or caused to be committed, innumerable acts of injustice 
 in order to clear her path of any one likely to obtain the slight- 
 est share of the notice she wished entirely to monopolize. It 
 can not be Avondered that such conduct should have estranged 
 the aflfections of her comrades. Some one asking Mademoi- 
 selle Judith why she was so severe in her remarks on one 
 who, after all, was a co-religionist of hers, " True," replied the 
 W'itty actress, " but with a difterence : I am a Jewess, but 
 Eachel — Rachel is a Jew !" 
 
 She has too often appeared to sacrifice the dignity of art, 
 and made her talent a mere article of barter and sale, to be 
 bargained for shamelessly and sold to the highest bidder. Her 
 continual discussions and lawsuits with the management of 
 the The'utre Franc^ais have fully shown that she considered 
 the theatre as her counter, her shop, where she put into prac- 
 tice all the tricky manoeuvres of her parents' first trade to get 
 the better of those she made contracts with. Here she gave 
 ■the rein to a temper harsh, cold, despotic, sulky, or stormy, as 
 the occasion might call it forth, but never kind or agreeable 
 in business. With the management she has constantly been 
 at variance, having recourse to every pretext to elude fulfilling 
 her engagements when she found it to her advantage. 
 
 Witla the public, with the admirers who thronged her box 
 between the acts — for Rachel seldom honored the green-room 
 with her presence — she was all smiles and winning manners. 
 In society, it has already been said, she possessed such perfect 
 tact, so gi-eat a delicacy of intuition, so natural an apprecia- 
 tion of that which is refined and elegant, that from the very 
 hour of her admission into it she moved there with graceful 
 ease, and fell instantly into its habits, never betraying by any 
 solecism that she pertained to a diflferent sphere. 
 
 She was, in truth, an astonishing compound of good quali- 
 ties and of imperfections, of greatness and of littleness, of the 
 sublime and the low. Her temper offers the same strange 
 mixture of wisdom and folly, boldness and timidity, modesty
 
 114 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 and passion it did in early youth ; in some points more devel- 
 oped, in others more subdued by years and circumstances, but 
 in essence still the same fantastic, elf-like nature. 
 
 It is said that the cunning, the deceitful, tricky, doubling 
 arts of the vendors of "ol' clo','' chaffering with menials for 
 cast-off garments, were at times resorted to by the wealthy 
 queen of tragedy to further her interests, and that the lips that 
 have given such eloquent utterance to the great classic poets, 
 and distilled Hyblean sweets to sovereigns, lords, and ladies 
 entranced by her accents, were equally ready to drive uncon- 
 scionable bargains. 
 
 The passion for locomotion which, united to the love of 
 gain, led her to be constantly on the wing from Paris to the 
 provinces, from France to Russia, to Germany, Italy, England, 
 and finally to the United States, traveling incessantly dui'ing 
 two thirds, and even three fourths of each year, may perhaps 
 have been owing to the nomade life of the mother. Those 
 who seek in the propensities and habits of the parent the germ 
 of the child's inclination, in accordanrce with the system of 
 pre-existent education, may here find an explanation of Ra- 
 chel's roving habits. The mother's avocation had influenced 
 the temper and tastes of her unborn babe. The tragcdieiine 
 hawked about her talent as the parent had her less valuable 
 merchandise. But in this particular Rachel did not differ 
 much from other artists, philharmonic as well as dramatic. 
 
 Yet, with all her faults, it will be long, perhaps, before Na- 
 ture will gift another of her children as richly as she has Ra- 
 chel, and unite in one being her genius, her intuitive concep- 
 tion of the sublime and the beautiful, her extraordinary power 
 of expressing what she so perfectly conceives, her grand pagan 
 qualities, her Greek, statue-like figure, her majesty of brow 
 and attitude, her quiet dignity of manner. If we lose her we 
 may well say. There is a great spirit gone. 
 
 The passion apparently most deeply rooted in Rachel's na- 
 ture was, next to the ruling one of gold, the love of dominion, 
 the thirst of power over the hearts of others, the acquisition 
 of whatsoever belonged to another ; whether the object was 
 the heart of a man or the most trifling bauble, it mattered not, 
 so long as it was the property of another ; it was ardently cov-
 
 MEilOIKS OF RACHEL. 115 
 
 eted, and every artifice, every temptation, every seduction — 
 and what daughter of Eve could boast of such an arsenal of 
 irresistible weapons as that which Rachel possessed — was re- 
 sorted to in order to obtain it. The instant it was hers, the 
 longed-for object lost all attraction ; it was utterly despised ; 
 unless, indeed, it possessed a metallic value, every other charm 
 was annihilated by possession. The human victims that have 
 been sacrificed to bring to her feet the homage tributed to an- 
 other have been so numerous that she herself would have been 
 puzzled to number them. "Were hearts made of the brittle 
 texture they are supposed to be by mad poets and boarding- 
 school misses, the fragments of those broken by Kachel would 
 have cumbered her path. Fortunately, those trophies are of 
 tougher materials, and, if ever flawed, are easily mended and 
 made as good as ever. As for her own, there Avas no danger: 
 love, aftection, passion, sentiment, feeling, never determined 
 her choice. The advantages to be derived from the position, 
 station, rank, or wealth of a friend, or the triumph of seducing 
 the allesiance tendered at some other shrine, were ever the 
 suiding motives of her selection, and where she willed she 
 never failed. 
 
 It has been said that Eachel was not beautiful. Perhaps 
 she was not to the eye that sees beauty but in certain conven- 
 tional forms, in a certain color ; but while none can pronounce 
 her to have been plain, she possessed that higher degree of 
 beauty imparted by the radiant light of genius illuminating 
 the countenance. For such as delight in detailed accounts 
 of each feature, we give them here, premising that descriptions 
 never furnish an adequate idea of the effect of the whole upon 
 the beholder. 
 
 The head was perfectly shaped, rather small, rather broad, 
 not high, and covered with dark chestnut hair, neither thick 
 nor thin, but beautifully fine, soft, and silky. The brow, en- 
 dowed with such extraordinary power of expression, was prom- 
 inent and wide, but low ; her eyebrows were exquisitely drawn ; 
 the eyes, the same color as the hair, were neither large nor 
 small, but so deep set that they had the appearance of being 
 intensely black : they were fringed with very long silky lashes. 
 The mouth, neither large nor small, was filled with teeth all
 
 IIG MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 perfect and beautifully white ; the under lip was long and 
 thick, not suggestive of sulks, but of storms, and, though so de- 
 fective in point of beauty, extremely expressive. The nose 
 was beautiful, the curve indicating the race very slightly in- 
 clining the tip ; but it was perfect in its proportions, with 
 thin, transparent, veiny nostrils. The chin was small and 
 pretty. The delicate little ear was compared by a soft-heart- 
 ed hon vivant to an Ostend oyster, and lay close to the head. 
 From the tip of the ear to the chin the face was a long oval. 
 The skin Avas fair and extremely delicate. In size Eachel was 
 rather above the middle height ; her figure had the litheness, 
 the grace, the flexibility of a reed, and, in repose, gave the im- 
 pression of a very delicate constitution ; but when she was 
 acting an energetic part, the long, slight arms seemed to change 
 to steel, so powerful was the character of inflexibility they 
 presented. The hands, which Avere rather pretty, were objects 
 of continual care and solicitude with Mademoiselle Rachel ; 
 her feet might have served as models to a modern Praxiteles. 
 The limbs were so well fastened on, the shoulders so graceful, 
 that the thinness of the figure was hardly noticed. The pe- 
 culiar shape of the chest, however, almost amounted to a de- 
 formity : the breast-bone was like a fowl's, bony, projecting 
 sharply, ungraceful to the eye. The defect was not at all per- 
 ceptible either in theatrical costume or ordinary dress; the 
 folds of the peplum and tunic in the first quite concealed it, 
 and the skill of the dressmaker in the latter was no less suc- 
 cessful. 
 
 The above attempt to describe features whose peculiar merit 
 was in their great power of expression, in their wonderful de- 
 lineations of the passions, must prove very unsatisfactory. 
 The only description that can convey any idea of the inimita- 
 ble jeu cle j^hysionomie of that eloquent face is the exhortation 
 of Henry V. to his soldiers — an exhortation she had never 
 read, but which nature had taught her to obey to the letter : 
 
 " Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
 Disguise fair nature with hard favored-rage ; 
 Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 
 Let it pry through the portage of the head 
 Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'cnvhelm it
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHtL. 117 
 
 As fearfully as doth a galled rock 
 O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, 
 Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. 
 Now set the teeth and stretch the nostrils wide; 
 Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
 To his full height." 
 
 All this the features of Mademoiselle Eachel were eminent- 
 ly fitted to convey. She had also, with that intuitive knowl- 
 edge that sometimes takes the place of study, followed the 
 excellent advice of Hamlet to the players, and marred with 
 rant and scream none of the effects produced by her counte- 
 nance. Few actors have, like her, made silence often more 
 eloquent than words. Few have so well understood that ex- 
 cessive grief is never expressed by violent action ; that deep 
 reflection precludes it altogether ; that indignation, contempt, 
 pride, menace, concentrated rage, are sho'\\Ti in the counte- 
 nance rather than in the motions. A look contains more terror 
 than the frantic stride; the often ludicrous gestures that "please 
 the vulvar, make the critic laugh." The ancients, who acted 
 under a mask, could have no idea of the advantages derived 
 from the system adopted by the moderns. 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 1843. 
 The Drama behind the Mask. 
 
 It is not unfrequently the case that reality, more poignant 
 than the most highly-wrought fiction, is concealed beneath the 
 trafnc mask. The stage is then the arena of gladiators who 
 peril far more than the combatants in the Koman circus, for 
 the latter periled life only; the modern gladiator stakes the 
 Divine ray, the God-given torch — his reason. At times the 
 unconscious judges who have come to while away an hour, to 
 see how far and how well humanity can be mimicked in its 
 wildest and most terrific moods, how nicely the unnatural 
 may be made to look natural, how closely fiction can be made 
 to resemble truth, at times these indifferent spectators, eager
 
 118 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 only to get the worth of their money, and ready to cavil on a 
 ■word and harp on a gesture, little deem that before their eyes 
 another and a far more fatal drama is being performed. But 
 there are other instances when the secret has ceased to be one ; 
 when the knowledge of the terrific stake to be played has been 
 made an incentive to increase the interest ; when the life, the 
 death, or madness of a fellow-creature, his fearful struggle, 
 his last agony, his despairing effort to rekindle the expiring 
 ray, are used as attractive items in the playbill ; when the vic- 
 tim himself makes a speculation of his tortures, sanctions this 
 fearful exposure of the most pitiful bereavement that can afflict 
 a God-forsaken creature, and counts in anticipation the gains. 
 
 Ay, all are bidden to the harrowing fete, all respond eager- 
 ly to the summons, for the spectacle is to be no common one 
 — a remnant of humanity, Avearing still the outer semblance 
 of a man, while all within is vacancy ; a being all once knew 
 so well, who knows himself no longer ; whose friends, whose 
 children, whose very name are effaced from the tablet of his 
 blurred and blotted memory. Yet this name he has forgotten 
 was once, to thousands of his admirers, suggestive of no sad- 
 ness. At its mention the merry laugh and droll jest again 
 resounded in the ear, melancholy took flight, wit and humor 
 reigned omnipotent. 
 
 This shattered idol, this defaced relic of the past, has inter- 
 vals when light pierces the darkness ; when dethroned reason 
 for a brief space resumes her sway ; when he fathoms the 
 abyss into which he has fallen ; when he is conscious of what 
 is, remembers what was, and, worst of all, knows what must 
 be again — in a day — in an hour — anon — even, perhaps, while 
 he thinks of it. And this unfortunate has bethought himself 
 that another such gleam of intelligence may be taken advan- 
 taae of to secure to the ravless nijrht of his old a^e physical 
 comforts that money alone can procure. He has but an hour, 
 an uncertain, fleeting hour ; he will sell it to the world for 
 bread. Yesterday he was nameless, to-morrow he will again 
 be so, but to-night he will give the public the personification 
 of the wittiest, most sarcastic, most brilliant and foscinating 
 of his characters. Ay, he is right, too, in his anticipation of 
 pecuniary success. The alms the cold charity of the world
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 119 
 
 have grudged his misfortune will be willingly paid as the re- 
 ward of this gratification of morbid curiosity. 
 
 In the early part of January, Mademoiselle Rachel acted 
 for the benefit of Monrosc, oxie of the best Figaros the boards 
 had ever known. Poor Monrose had been indebted to his suc- 
 cess in Beaumarchais's play to a constant study of it that had 
 had the most fatal result — insanity. He did not p% the part ; 
 he had indentified himself Avith it, on the stage and off of it ; 
 at table, waking and sleeping, he was in his rofe. This con- 
 stant absorption of the author's creation produced a strange 
 phenomenon : the actor could no longer lay down the fictitious 
 part, and be himself; the character, like the robe of the cen- 
 taur, clung to him, and would not be torn away. He had 
 forgotten his name, but he immediately answered to that of 
 Figaro. In conversation he was absent, and appeared neither 
 to hear nor understand ; but a quotation from the " Barbier" 
 brought forth a prompt, an animated answer, the droll gesture, 
 the contagious laugh. He had forgotten his own existence, 
 he had not forgotten a line of the play ! 
 
 We have said that the unfortunate actor had determined, 
 in a lucid interval, to take advantage of the next one to come 
 again before the public, and endeavor to earn during that 
 respite wherewith to supply himself with the comforts his 
 helpless condition required. The house was crowded ; the 
 anxiety of spectators and actors may be readily conceived; 
 the sight was terrible, the trial exciting in the highest degree. 
 All, conscious of the truth, dreaded at each word, at each 
 gesture, a return of the fatal malady ; nay, doubted whether 
 it had not returned and was not lurking beneath the apparent 
 calm. The Rosine and the Alinavives of the evening were un- 
 der the influence of a terror they could scarcely disguise. The 
 object of all this alarm seemed to seek, by his oiFhand, easy 
 grace, his brilliant sallies and his smiling looks, to reassure 
 them. There are in the role of Figaro passages but too allu- 
 sive to his unhappy state, and every heart beat with terror as 
 the doomed man uttered the three words at the conclusion of 
 the third act : " II est fou / II est fou ! II est fou .'" And here, 
 and here only, did Monrose himself seem to allow that he was 
 aware of the truth. He uttered the sentence each time with
 
 120 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 iriCTeased vehemence and with an expression of the most poign- 
 ant grief. Even Mademoiselle Kache], who that evening 
 played her best character, one with which she was most famil- 
 iar, actually lost her memory twice during the performance. . 
 
 When Monrose entered, a thunder of applause welcomed 
 him, and it would have been renewed much oftener had not 
 the fear of exciting him too much counseled calmer tones of 
 approbation. He surpassed his former self. It seemed im- 
 possible that the fine intellect, so quick at comprehending all 
 the wit of the author, so readily interpreting it, should be 
 doomed to utter darkness again ; and, most terrible of all, that 
 gay, laughing, charming spirit, knew his doom. The general 
 impression, notwithstanding the wit and humor of the play, 
 could not but be sad ; the more gay and merry seemed the 
 actor, the greater was the regret at losing him again. The 
 farewell of the public produced a sum of 18,000 francs. The 
 intelligent physician of the asylum, Doctor Blanche, remained 
 behind the scenes, comforting and encouraging him between 
 the acts, but himself paler and far more anxious than the 
 brilliant Figaro. 
 
 Another sad instance of the faculty of assimilation, carried 
 so far that the unfortunate mimic has lost his own being, and 
 adopted that of his model, occurred some years previous to 
 the case of Monrose. Insanity was the stage theme then in 
 vogue, as blindness has been the recent one. Humanity, not 
 content with the painful realities that afflict it, takes a strange 
 delight in reproducing their semblance. 
 
 The actress who was to play the part of the stricken hero- 
 ine on the boards of one of the second class theatres of the 
 Boulevards w^as a young, delicate, and pretty girl, gifted with 
 an organization far too sensitive and nervous to bear with 
 impunity the terrible working up necessary for the personi- 
 fication of the role. Called upon to simulate madness — that 
 is, the annihilation of the noblest of God's gifts — to " disguise 
 fair nature with hard-favored rage," distort her features, and 
 go through all the fearful mimicry of that most fearful of all 
 diseases, she studied the part conscientiously, and frequently 
 repaired to an insane hospital, in order to study in all its 
 phases, and reproduce with scrupulous fidelity, unnatural na-
 
 MOIOIKS OF RACHEL. 121 
 
 ture. She succeeded ])ut too well ; she learned to imitate the 
 vacant stare, the horrid grin, the hollow laugh, the broken 
 voice, and, step by step, acquired an appalling perfection. 
 Fearing to lose the faculty thus painfully acquired, she kept 
 on her terrible mask, even when off the stage, for hours to- 
 gether. One evening, between the acts, she carried the mock- 
 ery so far as to endeavor to persuade herself for a short time 
 that she was one of the wretched creatures she had so often 
 watched striding up and down in the paved court of the Sal- 
 petriere, insane among the insane, mad among the mad, and 
 she succeeded — succeeded beyond her wishes — succeeded fo7'- 
 ever ! She realized her audacious mockery; the despair of 
 the heart ascended to the reeling, overturned brain ; she was 
 seized with a vertigo ; before her rose the panorama of the 
 anticipated tomb of reason ; she heard the gnashing of teeth, 
 the heart-rending shriek, the distracting yell ; she saw her- 
 self crouching among the grinning skeletons ; she looked in 
 the glass, and, behold, her eye shot forth a strange light ; she 
 tried to sing, her voice was choked ; to weep, and two drops 
 fell like molten lead on her sunken cheek ; to pray, and blas- 
 phemous curses issued from her lurid lips ; to clasp her hands, 
 and the nails closed like talons into the quivering flesh ; to 
 dress herself, every tasteful instinct was gone, and in its place 
 perverted fancies alone remained. She had accomplished her 
 object ; she had perfected her part ; she had found the fearful 
 ideal so long sought. At this awful moment the bell rings, 
 and, true to long-followed habit, she rushed on the stage. 
 Strange to say, the public, beholding the terribly truthful 
 apparition, this haggard, soiled, ragged wretch, with dishev- 
 elled straw-wreathed hair and foaming mouth, the public hiss- 
 ed — the public exclaimed that the girl was drunk — that it 
 was insulted — that she did not knoiv her part. So much for 
 the judgment of the public. Alas! she was mad ; hopelessly, 
 incm-ably insane ; and those who may wish to attain perfec- 
 tion in the part can study it at their leisure in the person of 
 its victim, who, clothed in the ignominious straight-jacket at 
 the Salpotriere, remains a lesson to those who daringly outrage 
 God in his noblest woi'k, and throw down the gauntlet to the 
 weak brain they should seek to strengthen. 
 
 F
 
 122 MEMOmS OF RACHEL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 1843. 
 
 Pkedre: a first Attempt. — "Judith." — An unexpected Debutante. — 
 Southern Enthusiasm. — A Deed of Charity. — Debuts of Eaphael and 
 Rebecca Felix in the "Cid." 
 
 !BIademoiselle Rachel began this year with the tragedy 
 of "Phedre." The day chosen — the 21st of January — caused 
 no little surprise in the circles of the aristocratic Faubourg 
 St. Germain, that had given so kind a reception to the young 
 tragedienne. This little world, that held itself aloof, and 
 scorned to mix with the plebeian court of 1830; that dwelt 
 in the heart of the busy capital as isolated as though nothing 
 existed beyond its own sphere ; that adhered A^-ith noble tenac- 
 ity to the religious faith, to the political creed of forefathers 
 who had sealed them vnth their blood on the scaffold — the 
 Faubourg St. Germain — had greeted with enthusiasm the new 
 Melpomene. With the Legitimists she was the representative 
 of the classic — to them the monarchical — theatre. She was 
 the principal example of a reaction that was to cast the 
 dramatic school of the Revolution into the shade. She was 
 the interpreter of art in all its purity ; and, as such, even 
 rigid piety felt justified in vouchsafing encouragement and 
 support to the Jewish actress. The exclusiveness of the 
 sphere made her admission there the more flattering, while 
 the assiduity with which her noble friends testified their ap- 
 probation by appearing at every performance was of no littl(\. 
 value in another sense. 
 
 To these faithful ones who held sacred the terrible souvenirs 
 of the past, the choice of the anniversary of the martyrdom of 
 Louis XVI. for her debut in " Phedre" was almost sacrile- 
 gious. At any rate, it denoted little respect for feeling she was 
 bound to honor, if not to share. It was a rupture of the 
 tacit contract that she had virtually accepted, and those who 
 would have rejoiced in encouraging her in this new trial ab- 
 stained from giving it the sanction of their presence.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 123 
 
 Two months had scarcely elapsed since the faithless one had 
 recited in the Convent of the Abbaye aiix IJois that very 
 Phedre in the presence of the illustrious author of the " Genie 
 du Christianisme." She had received her first ideas of this 
 role from the lips of that great apostle of legitimacy. She had 
 had the inestimable privilege of hearing it discussed in the 
 presence of him who had written so eloquent, though so erro- 
 neous an analysis of the Greek queen's character. She had 
 probably adopted the opinions echoed by his entourage, and 
 seen in Phhlre " a mixture of spirit and matter, of despair 
 and amorous phrensy that is beyond all expression. The 
 woman who could be resigned to an eternity of suffering had 
 she enjoyed one moment of happiness, that woman belongs not 
 to the characters of antiquity. She is the last, the reprobate 
 Christian ****** ]^er words are those of the 
 damned." 
 
 The boldness of Mademoiselle Maxine in undertaking Phe- 
 dre the preceding year probably proved an incentive to Made- 
 moiselle Rachel to try her far greater powers in this difficult 
 role — the most difficult, indeed, of all the classic repertoire, the 
 one that stamps the seal of genius on the actress, or reveals that 
 what was hitherto taken for genius was only talent. Here 
 too the actress had to contend against the impression Made- 
 moiselle Duchesnois had made in the part, an impression that 
 survived in the memory of many present. Mademoiselle Du- 
 chesnois was, certes, very inferior in some points to her young 
 successor, but she possessed qualities most indispensable to 
 tragedy of which Rachel was entirely destitute ; she had from 
 nature the faculty of expressing tenderness in its most moving 
 form, depth of feeling in its most sympathetic, heart-stirring, 
 passionate moods. Phedre, the role of her dcMit, had remain- 
 ed her favorite one throughout her long career, and she had 
 never acted it without drawing tears from every spectator. 
 Ten years had scarcely elapsed since her death, and that ad- 
 mirable, tear-pregnant voice still echoed in the hearts of 
 many. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel knew well that she had to contend 
 with these souvenirs ; she knew, too, that she herself had been 
 always reproached with a lack of tenderness, and she had re-
 
 124 MEMOIRS OF EACHEL. 
 
 solved at any cost, even at the sacrifice of her finest natural 
 qualities, to acquire those she had not. She forgot that she 
 was not yet suited by time for the part of the daughter of 
 Pasiphce, and that the wife of Theseus is a woman of twenty- 
 eight or thirty years of age. This attempt at forcing nature 
 pi'ecluded all inspiration, and necessarily entailed constraint, 
 fatigue, and a want of confidence in her own powers that re- 
 acted painfully on the audience. It was not until several 
 years later that Rachel really displayed her splendid powers 
 to full advantage in this role. On the present occasion expec- 
 tation was disappointed. She played still in her own grand 
 authoritative style, but effect was produced by the nerves, not 
 the heart. Critics loudly complained that in Phcdre she was 
 still Hermione, and that consequently, in the five acts of the 
 former, she found but two — the third and fourth — into which 
 she introduced the inflections, the gestures, the disdain, rage, 
 and scorn of her favorite character ; that, in fact, in lieu of 
 studying a new part, she had merely effected a transposition 
 of the old. To judge of Rachel in this character on this her 
 first attempt, would be unjust: Rachel was not Phklre until 
 eleven years later. 
 
 On the 24th of April the long-expressed wishes of the pub- 
 lic were gratified, and Mademoiselle Rachel appeared in a role 
 of her own creation, in a character Avi'itten expressly for her, 
 as a heroine of her own race and her own religion. 
 
 Circumstances that to many would appear the most favor- 
 able for the actress turned out to be the most disadvantageous 
 that could possibly have occurred. The tragedy of "Judith" 
 was the work of a woman, handsome, brilliant, and fashiona- 
 ble, the cynosure of a circle composed of men of the highest 
 order of intellect and of sparkling wit, the pet of the world of 
 letters and of the world of fashion, herself occupying a high 
 place in either sphere, the talented child of a talented mother, 
 the wife of one of the omnipotent arbiters of merit, and the 
 head of one of the chief organs of the press. The result may be 
 imagined : if the tragedy was fine, it of course would be well 
 supported ; if poor, it would be supported qncind mcme, and the 
 failure laid to the interpreter. 
 
 The theme was ill chosen ; it had already been tried by
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 125 
 
 others without success, but it was hoped that the talent of the 
 authoress, supported by that of the actress, would make it 
 this time acceptable. It must be confessed that it was scarce- 
 ly possible to make a worse selection as to subject than this 
 page cut from the Bible and dramatized. Judith could never 
 be a popular heroine in Fi'ance : this widow, introducing her- 
 self into the bed of a besotted barbarian, and chopping off his 
 head Avith a gi-eat Damascus sabre, inspires more disgust than 
 admiration. There is something indescribably repulsive in 
 the apparent pandering to the loathsome desires of an enemy 
 in order to butcher him in cold blood. Not all the splendor 
 of imagery, not all the power of language, the smoothness of 
 verse, or music of rhythm, could ever render the mifeminine 
 perpetrator interesting. The heroine was said to be the coun- 
 terpart of Charlotte Corday. No comparison can be estab- 
 lished between the enthusiastic, the fanatic, but, withal, em- 
 inently modest, gentle, and pure French heroine, whose brow 
 blushed even after death, and the bold vii'ago who made lust 
 the minister of vengeance. 
 
 This, one of the most atrocious stories contained in the Old 
 Testament, was the last that a fair authoress should have 
 thought of picturing. She should have reflected that actions 
 suited perhaps to those remote times were not presentable on 
 the stage of the nineteenth century. This scene of debauchery 
 and murder, in which wine and blood are disgustingly mingled 
 and poured forth together, in which treachery and lust are the 
 actors, where descriptions of sacked cities, carnage, pillage, and 
 revolts are tlie interludes, where there is not one glorious deed, 
 one magnanimous action, one noble or interesting personage, 
 whei'e all is abhorrent to nature — this surely was no subject 
 for the pen of a true woman like Madame de Girardin. It 
 might perhaps have suited a member of the Woman's Eights' 
 Convention, who, possessing none of the charms peculiar to 
 her own sex, attempts to supply the deficiency by an affecta- 
 tion of masculine qualities. In France no sympathy is felt 
 for these unsexed creatures. A French audience could not 
 applaud such a drama. This unjustifiable crime, this kiss on 
 the edge of a sword, this deadly hyena's embrace — faugh ! the 
 thing might inspire repulsion and horror, but the tragic ele- 
 ments of pity, terror, rage, fear, love, are all wanting.
 
 126 MEMOIES OF RACHEL. 
 
 There remains to examine by what miracles of poesy, by 
 what eiforts of genius it was sought to render this atrocious 
 compound acceptable. 
 
 The first act opens well, and gives some hope of excellence ; 
 the second and third are below mediocrity. The plot and the 
 haracters denote a false conception, a lack of invention. The 
 triple love of Holopherne, of Phklme, and of Judith, which the 
 author evidently thought would be very effective, is not only 
 cold and uninteresting, but it borders on the ludicrous. The 
 scene where Judith bids the princes " down on their knees," 
 in which the repetition of a genoux ! was intended to be sub- 
 lime, is laughable in the extreme. All the third act, with the 
 intrigue of the pavilion between the two tents, proves a bar- 
 ren imagination. The invocation oi Judith before the murder 
 of Holopherne, intended to be a sort of imprecation a la Ca- 
 mille, is sheer nonsense. At the same time, the style, with the 
 exception of a few verses, is clear and elegant throughout the 
 whole play. 
 
 It was impossible that an actress, however great her abil- 
 ity, could do any thing with such a part : a character that is 
 inspired by no strong passion, a widow without real grief, a 
 mistress without real love, a fanatic without inspiration. No 
 one is tempted to repeat the exclamation of Racine in allusion 
 to the Judith of Royer : " I weep for that poor Holopherne, so 
 traitorously done to death by Judith:' None of the dramatis 
 jyersoncB excite compassion in Madame de Girardin's tragedy ; 
 if any one deserved pity, it was the actress condemned to bear 
 so heavy a burden. 
 
 And this was the play that Rachel was called to present 
 to the public! This insignificant characterless heroine was 
 to be her first creation ! To the deficiencies of the tragedy 
 were added other circumstances that were considered harbin- 
 gers of success, but which proved elements of failure. The 
 play was, as is frequently the case in France, first submitted 
 to the criticism of what is called a " private reading." A 
 circle composed of men bearing the highest names in France 
 for rank and intellect — such a circle as will never again per- 
 haps be formed, the less so that the loved and lovely point of 
 attraction is no more — assembled in the elegant salon of the
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 127 
 
 authoress. In the middle of this assemblage of critics, all de- 
 voted friends and enthusiastic admirers, the charming hostess, 
 with large blue eye gleaming Avith poetic fire, light waving 
 ringlets and heaving chest, in clear, musical, eloquent tones, 
 pregnant with faith in her work, read very tolerable verses to 
 ears predisposed to approve. It can not be wondered at that 
 these friends, though bearing the names of Victor Hugo, de 
 Lamartine, de Balzac, &c., should have proved but prejudiced 
 judges, and should have lacked the prudence, the foresight, 
 and severity that dispassionate critics and an unbiased public 
 would bring to the task. They forgot that Judith would not 
 always be presented to an audience of friends by an authoress 
 surrounded by all the prestige of love and admiration, reciting 
 with enthusiastic conviction her own verses, and who, carried 
 away by her own feelings, weeps herself and draws forth re- 
 sponsive tears from her audience. The consequence was, that 
 when these same approving friends found the real public cold, 
 unmoved, and unadmiring, rather than acknowledge their er- 
 ror, rather than retract the mistaken praise so prodigally and 
 injudiciously bestowed, they found it more convenient to shift 
 the blame on to the shoulders of Eachel. That the actress in 
 this ill-chosen part which she was called on to create Avas be- 
 low her own level, that she played coldly, without soul, heart, 
 understanding, conviction, or feeling, was true, but she had 
 sufficient reason for this ; it may be added that she was yet 
 too young, too ignorant and inexperienced to " create" a char- 
 acter so unnatural ; she could have recourse to no antecedents, 
 no traditions ; she was deprived of that to which she was ac- 
 customed to look for support, that without which she really 
 could not act — the rapturous enthusiasm, the expectant ad- 
 miration of the crowd. It is scarcely necessary to add that 
 the result was the downright and complete failure of the play 
 and the actress. • 
 
 However unfortunate in the chief points of the tragedy. 
 Mademoiselle Rachel, in outward appearance, was a splendid 
 Judith. The good taste that had presided in the selection of 
 her costumes was worthy of all praise. The mourning dress 
 in the first act was chaste and severe. The costume of the 
 other acts was resplendent. The dress, of a pale rose color.
 
 128 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 embroidered watli golden stars ; tlie purple mantle, the Ori- 
 ental scarf, covered with exquisite embroidery ; the scriptural 
 jewels that adorned her neck, arms, hair, and ears, formed a 
 gorgeous ensemble that did credit to the taste and erudition of 
 M. Chasseriau, the artist who designed the costumes. 
 
 Dui-ing the performance of "Judith," one of those incidents 
 that, though in themselves perfectly insignificant, often upset 
 the best-calculated plans occurred. During the first act, when 
 the hapless Hebrews are lamenting their fate and implorino- 
 the assistance of Heaven, at the most pathetic moment, a 
 small gray cat, wearing the necklace of bits of cork indicating 
 her recent maternity, crossed the whole length of the stage, 
 gazing with astonished eyes at the dramatis personoi there as- 
 sembled. This trifling incident called forth roars of laughter 
 from the spectators ; cries of puss, xmss, imitations of cater- 
 wauling, and comic remarks, were heard from the pit, and 
 even the wretched Hebrews, forgetting the terrible thirst they 
 suffered and the woes that afflicted Bethuha, had the utmost 
 difficulty to refrain from joining in the contagious merriment. 
 The effect on the play was very unfortunate. It became im- 
 possible to obtain a quarter of an hour's serious attention from 
 the audience, notwithstanding the presence of Rachel — Judith; 
 her influence was great indeed, but with a Parisian public, al- 
 ways inclined to see the ridiculous side of every thing, it was 
 quite counterbalanced by that of puss with her cork collar. 
 
 Mademoiselle Eachel, during the conge of this year, visited 
 the south of France. Her reception was extremely flattering, 
 especially at Marseilles, where it had even been arranged that 
 a cavalcade of young men from the city should go some dis- 
 tance to meet and bring her into it in triumphant procession. 
 Unfortunately for the plans of these enthusiastic young squires, 
 the lady they intended to honor entered the city before the 
 ^our she was expected. The musicians of the Grand The'atre 
 were more fortunate in the accomplishment of their inten- 
 tions ; they executed their projected serenade under her win- 
 dows, much to her and their own satisfaction. 
 
 The provincial press had enough to do to record the trium- 
 phant progress of Mademoiselle Eachel. The receipts of the 
 Marseilles Theatre amounted to the hitherto unprecedented
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 129 
 
 sum of 8000 francs. The highest sum ever drawn there by 
 the presence of Tahna had never exceeded 5500 francs. At 
 the close of every performance, an immense crowd accompanied 
 her, with noisy and enthusiastic applause, to her hotel. At 
 the close of the second performance of " Andromaque" she had 
 nearly been the victim of the admiration of the hot-headed 
 southerners. The wish to see her caused such a pressure of 
 the crowd that she barely escaped being crushed ; the inter- 
 position of a number of robust artisans enabled her to take 
 refuge in a shop, whence she at last succeeded in reaching her 
 hotel by the assistance of a commissary of police and a detach- 
 ment of soldiers. 
 
 Every movement, almost every look of the tragedienne was 
 trumpeted with all the amplifications that exaggerated praise 
 could imagine. One little anecdote is, however, worthy of 
 note, whatever may have been the motives that influenced the 
 action. Wliile Mademoiselle Eachel was at Lyons, she was 
 told of a Jewish family that was reduced to the lowest stage 
 of Avant. Having ascertained all necessary details of the 
 case. Mademoiselle Eachel repaired on the following day to 
 the sixth floor of a house in one of the poorest quarters of 
 the town. Here she found a workman, his wife, and six 
 children, without bread, clothes, or shoes. The gift of 300 
 francs which the visitor had brought for their relief called 
 forth a torrent of blessings and fervent thanks. Not content 
 with this munificent donation, Mademoiselle Kachel stopped 
 at a shoemaker's on her way home, and ordered eight pairs 
 of shoes for the poor people she had just left. 
 
 The presence of JMademoiselle Kachel at Lyons attracted 
 numerous visitors from the adjacent towns. On Monday, 
 Wednesday, and Friday, the days on which she performed, 
 the public edifices were thronged with strangers whiling away 
 the time until the hour when the doors of the theatre opened. 
 
 Rachel gave twelve performances in Lyons, and left that 
 city on the 12th of August for Switzerland, where she was to 
 remain some time, in order to rest from the fatigue conse- 
 quent on her continued exertions. On the first of September 
 she reappeared on the boards of the Theatre Frangais. 
 
 In this month two other members of the Felix family made 
 
 F 2
 
 130 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 
 
 their debut on the stage of the Odeon. Raphael, then seven- 
 teen years of age, and Rebecca, fifteen. The play was the 
 *'Cid," and whatever amount of intelligence, cultivated and 
 developed by art, the precocious hei'O and heroine might pos- 
 sess, the effect could not but be ludicrous — Liliputians inter- 
 preting the actions and feelings of Titans — full-grown actors 
 seen through the small end of a lorgnette, were the ideas they 
 suggested in the beholder. There was no lack of talent in 
 the young debutants, especially in Rebecca, though it lacked 
 maturity ; but both were evidently copies of their successful 
 sister. Neither they nor any other member of the family ever 
 attained, however, to her height. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 1844. 
 "Berenice."— "Don Sanche d'Aragon."— "Catharine II." 
 
 In January of 1844 the Theatre Fran^ais revived the 
 "Berenice" of Racine. This play was written in 1670, when 
 the power and glory of Louis XIV. had reached the climax ; 
 when all things had reference to the idol of the day, he who 
 was the Alpha and Omega, whose power and whose amours af- 
 forded themes to the greatest poets, men to whom his smile was 
 the highest reward, his frown the severest punishment. The 
 episode of Titus and Berenice in Roman history was suggest- 
 ed to Racine and Corneille by Henrietta of England : she who 
 could so well sympathize with sorrows her own heart had ex- 
 perienced ; she who could well appreciate the victory achieved 
 by duty over love, for she also had been victorious in as hard 
 a struggle. To the pure, chaste, and sincere love of Henrietta 
 for the king, to the chivalrous and passionate devotion with 
 which that love was repaid, to this mutual affection courage- 
 ously resisted until esteem, admiration, and respect alone sur- 
 vived, we are indebted for this splendid elegiac poem, a model 
 of elegant diction, of pure style, of exquisite poetry. 
 
 To the court of Louis XIV., that saw in every line an 
 allusion, in every character recognized a portrait, " Berenice" 
 was full of interest. But this picture of refined and pure
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 131 
 
 love, which excited the sympathy and respect, which called 
 forth the tears of the brilUant lords and graceful dames of 
 Versailles, could have no interest for an audience of the nine- 
 teenth centur}--, accustomed to the sanguinary horrors of the 
 modern dramatic school, in which suicide, fratricide, bastardy, 
 arson, arc the themes ; in which crazed imagination, invoking 
 all the evil passions, seeks its lieroes and heroines beyond the 
 limits of Nature, in the realms of the Furies, or, degrading 
 the noble Muse, drags her through the purlieus of crime to 
 seek her subjects among the denizens of the bagnios and gal- 
 leys. Tame and insipid must appear the chaste Berenice, the 
 noble Titus, to ears satiated with modern horrors. Neither 
 the queen nor her imperial lover lose life or reason. They 
 do not threaten to make the world rock, or to destroy the 
 foundations of social order ; they do not curse all mankind 
 because they themselves are unhappy ; they are uninteresting 
 and spiritless ; they prove themselves possessed of strength 
 of mind that saci-ifices the most violent passion to duty and 
 honor, and this is too matter-of-fact to please at the present 
 day. Nobody pities the torments of these separated lovers ; 
 the heroism, generosity, and delicacy of Berenice find no ad- 
 mirers, and the grief of the master of the world, who loses a 
 mistress he has loved already five years, and can choose her 
 successor among all the women of the empire, is still less un- 
 derstood. 
 
 "With such a change in times and opinions, it is not to be 
 wondered at that when "•Berenice" was last revived, nearly 
 fifty years had elapsed since that master-piece had been pre- 
 sented to the public, and that the revival was not a successful 
 one. All the interest of former days had long ago died with 
 those who excited it. The insatiate grave had closed over 
 Louis and his courtiers, over the illustrious and virtuous 
 princess who had perished by so foul a death, over the lovely 
 and gentle La Yallierc who had so fully expiated her one 
 error : the chaste love depicted by Eacine had ceased not only 
 to be felt, but to be believed in. 
 
 Ac^ainst this formidable coalition of circumstances the young 
 actress was called to struggle. No one appreciated the ob- 
 stacles. She was required to excite sj-mpathy and enthusi-
 
 132 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 asm, and the materials furnished her were the cold ashes of 
 passions over which nearly two centuries had passed ! 
 
 To all these objections may still be added a stronger one 
 still as regarded the actress — the part oi Berenice was ^yholly 
 unsuited to her. It is animated by one passion only through- 
 out the play, a passion as gentle as it is strong — love in its 
 most tender expression, unmixed with anger, scorn, resent- 
 ment, never manifested with unfeminine violence. In this 
 roZe Rachel could find none of the grand effects she made 
 such fine use of in Camille, Hermione, Roxane, and portions 
 of 3Iarie Stuart. Berenice personifies abnegation in its most 
 sublime form, therefore Berenice remains calm, dignified, and 
 serene, even in her deepest grief. She is the heroine of a 
 love honorable and devoted, of duty firm and unswerving ; 
 her heroism is not noisy and tempestuous, albeit it has its 
 struggles. Berenice is the very opposite of Dido or of Phe- 
 clre ; she can not shed the same tears. This last shade of 
 difference may appear of little moment, yet it is all-important. 
 It could not be expected that Mademoiselle Eachel would 
 succeed where not one of her own grand dramatic character- 
 istics was brought into play, and it seems incomprehensible 
 she could have undertaken the part. 
 
 Mademoiselle Eachel probably chose "Berenice" on ac- 
 count of a fancied resemblance between the subject of that 
 play and that of " Andromaque." Berenice is, it is true, 
 like Hermione, forsaken, but the causes that influence the 
 lovers are as different as the characters of the princesses. 
 Hermione is sacrificed to another love, Berenice to duty ; the 
 widow of Hector is the rival of Hermione, that of Berenice is 
 virtue. The passions excited are very dissimilar, and the 
 qualities that make an excellent Hermione must make a poor 
 Berenice. 
 
 Among the remarks of the press suggested by the perform- 
 ance of Mademoiselle Rachel was one that proves her politi- 
 cal opinions at that time were somewhat different from the 
 very democratic ones she found it to her advantage to exhibit 
 four years later: "The lines De cette nuit Phenice were well 
 spoken, only when she says Le peupk ! Mademoiselle Rachel 
 sliould utter tlie words with more enthusiasm. Le jietiple is
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHKL. 133 
 
 not, in this case, the people of the emeittes and of tlie carre- 
 fours — it is the great Roman nation, and in this sense the 
 contempt witli which it is mentioned is out of place." 
 
 On the 17th of February she appeared in the rule o{ Isabelle 
 in " Don Sanche d'Aragon," which was never repeated. This, 
 one of the inferior plays of Corneille, had neither in the plot 
 or character one trait suited to Mademoiselle Rachel. It had 
 been altered to suit the modern stage by M. Naptal-Planat, 
 but was not more successful in its new di*ess than before. 
 
 In June the tragedy of " Catharine II." was brought out, 
 with Mademoiselle Rachel as the heroine. There really seem- 
 ed a fatality attached to her creations in the modern drama, 
 and it may be said with truth that, with the exception of 
 Virginie, perhaps not one of the characters written expressly 
 for the great actress, during the whole course of her dramatic 
 career, was suited to or worthy of her. 
 
 Poor Catharine II. has been the prey of novelists, drama- 
 tists, and poets without count. She has been dragged in the 
 kennel, and made the pai-amour of low-born, brutal soldiers ; 
 she has been accused of perpetrating every crime, of stooping 
 to every weakness. No pity was shown her. She was a 
 monster — there is no rest for the wricked — was the argument 
 of her persecutors ; she shall be tormented by the pen of every 
 scribbler, even to the end of time. 
 
 Certes, the Russians themselves must be very much aston- 
 ished at the liberties taken with the character of the gveat 
 queen of whom they are so justly proud. They must be 
 amazed at the zeal with which these confounders of history 
 pursue the memory of her who was a theme of praise with 
 the philosophei's of her day, the Queen of Sheba of the wise 
 Diderot and the witty Voltaire, the elegant and refined woman 
 who introduced into a barbarous court the courteous and pol- 
 ished manners of that of Louis XV. 
 
 As a woman she was Aveak, as an empress she was great 
 indeed. In her soft, gloved hand, the brutal, rebellious Boy- 
 ards were held as in a steel vice, Avhile before her determined 
 will the vast forces of the Ottoman Empire retreated dismayed, 
 and the ancient limits of Russia were carried beyond the Cau- 
 casus. Her heart knew no fear, recoiled before no obstacle.
 
 134 MEMOmS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Her great crime, the one that has raised such a storm of vir- 
 tuous indignation over her tomb, was that she put to death 
 her liusband. But of all the crimes of the kind with which 
 the history of nations is filled, not one is so excusable, so jus- 
 tifiable as that of Catharine II. She acted in self-defense ; 
 her life was weighed against his, and she inclined the scale in 
 her favor; between killing and being killed, she chose the 
 former; she turned the weapon raised against life against 
 that of her assassin. The insults and outrages she had suf- 
 fered from that barbarian were such as no woman, especial- 
 ly one of her temper, ever forgives. Poetry, and history 
 itself, have found excuses for far greater crimes than hers. 
 Those who reproach Catharine with the murder of Peter III., 
 a hideous tyrant, whose death was the deliverance of all Rus- 
 sia and the salvation of numerous victims already marked by 
 him for death in its most fearful forms, forget that this fortu- 
 nate revolution was accomplished with the loss of a single 
 life that was the curse of a whole nation. Those who take 
 such strange delight in painting her failings in the strongest 
 light, leave her manifold great deeds in the shadow. This is 
 a miserable, one-sided way of reading the annals of time, and 
 an in'everent and silly jesting with its most important and 
 solemn events. 
 
 M. Romand followed the beaten path, and treated this 
 grand historical figure as unceremoniously as his predecessors. 
 It is painful to have to analyze this wretched perversion of 
 truth. In absurdity of plot, in want of taste, style, skill, im- 
 agination, poetry, rhythm, this author had outdone all the 
 stupid productions of former years. Could his " Catharine 
 II." be played in the style of a parody, as the " Auberge des 
 Adrets" was once played, it would, without the changing of 
 a single word, prove the most amusing farce that could be put 
 upon the stage. It was not the fault of Rachel if she failed 
 in a part where there was not a situation, a thought, a line 
 worthy of a tolerable actress. But she made a great mistake 
 in accepting it, and proved a great want of dramatic instinct, 
 not to say taste, in so doing. Talma and Mademoiselle Mars 
 never thus compromised their talents. The youth and com- 
 plete literary ignorance of Mademoiselle Rachel might prove
 
 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 135 
 
 some excuse for her ; but no motive could be found that could 
 induce a manager, a coinitc dc lecture, to receive such a piece. 
 Low indeed muj^t be the degree of debasement and degrada- 
 tion to which literary taste was reduced when such a play was 
 endured to the end. It is true that no hisses were ever heard 
 then. The house, filled on " first nights" from pit to gallery 
 with friends and paid admirers, has no seats for the real pub- 
 lic. As for criticism, the cautious circumspection with which 
 it touched upon the demerits of the woi-k would be incompre- 
 hensible were it not to be conjectured that the amiable temper 
 of the author and his success in two previous works had dis- 
 armed his judges. Criticism, however, while it respects the 
 person and private character of an author, is bound to treat 
 his works with severity, truth, and impartiality. ' 
 
 The sole aim of the author of " Catharine II." seems to have 
 been the creation of a part for one person. By the adaptation 
 of that part to Mademoiselle Rachel's peculiar line, and there- 
 by affording scope for her powers, it was expected that she 
 would give relief to the play on the mutual support system — 
 a verj' mistaken plan iu all cases where every other character 
 is sacrificed to one. 
 
 The sum and substance of the play, disentangled and made 
 clear — no easy matter — is the following : Young Iivan, who 
 has some rights to the imperial throne occupied by Catharine, 
 has been confined in a fortress from his infancy. In his prison 
 he addresses his laments to the passing clouds, to the mild 
 spring, to the mountain flowerets of Russia. The empress, 
 in love with her prisoner, in the character of a young and 
 simple-hearted ignorant maiden, visits him in his dungeon, and 
 of course fascinates the unsuspecting Iican. The situation 
 has the merit of being a novel one, and, as such, does honor 
 to the invention of the author — the despotic Czarina cooing 
 like a turtle-dove in the dungeon of the cousin whom her re- 
 volted great vassals are at the time conspiring to seat on her 
 throne. The love-making, being all on the lady's side, is also 
 something unknowni in the code of French gallantrj' ; besides 
 which, it turns out that the said lady is no longer free to offer 
 her heart ; she has already a master, and one as despotic as 
 herself, who follows her like her shadow, and, when she jxoes
 
 136 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 clandestinely to talk platonic sentiment with her young cousin, 
 is at her elbow, dodging behind doors, eaves-dropping, &c. ; 
 and the great, the all-powerful Catharine tamely submits to 
 being brow-beaten and insulted in the foulest terms by a tall 
 brute of a soldier ! 
 
 Truly Mademoiselle Eachel, accustomed to the high-toned 
 respect, the refined delicacy, the submissive deference of the 
 Greek and Roman lovers of Racine and Corneille, must have 
 felt some surprise at hearing herself treated like a camp-fol- 
 lower. But this is the modem style of litei-ature, and when, 
 as it usually does, it chooses its heroines in the kennel, it may 
 be very appropriate. 
 
 In the third and fourth acts we have quite as extraordinary 
 flights of fancy. Catharine has resolved that she will have a 
 decisive and public manifestation of Iivaji's admiration. A 
 grand fete is given, at which all the beauties of the court are 
 assembled, and the Czarina herself, laying aside for an hour 
 the external attributes of power, confiding in the sole prestige 
 of her natural charms, mingles unostentatiously with the 
 throng of her fair subjects. Iioan is introduced, and is then 
 and there to say which of the ladies he will choose for his 
 bride. If these are the privileges granted to state prisoners 
 in Russia, they are not much to be pitied — a call from the 
 empress in the morning, a sleigh-ride at noon, a ball in the 
 evening, and a bride at his choice among the first and fairest 
 of a court ! No wonder Iivan imagined he was made a mock 
 of for the amusement of the court. The rascally Orlof, Cath- 
 arine's discarded lover, sets the stranger right: he tells him his 
 pure maiden love is the imperial widow who has murdered her 
 husband. Iwan thereupon insults Catharine before all the 
 court with impunity. This tissue of absurdities wdnds up 
 with the murder of Iican by Orloff. 
 
 The character of Iican is as mistaken as that of Catharine. 
 Condemned to captivity from early infancy, his only accom- 
 plishment consisted in playing checkers. "Wlien Catharine 
 visited him she found him half an idiot. 
 
 It was in the summer of this year that Rachel was tempted 
 to take the part of one of Moliere's sidvantes. She appeared 
 in Marinette in " Le Dfepit Amoreux." Phklre and Marinette
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 137 
 
 in the same evening! To unite two such oppositcs in one 
 person may be possible, but not in one like Kachel. Had 
 Nature intended her for an amusing Marinette, she would not 
 have given the attributes of the panting, trembling, passion- 
 laden Greek queen ; the noble, severe brow, the deep eye, the 
 lip paled by emotion and fevered by the utterance of tragic 
 anathemas, curled at times by scorn, but never parted by the 
 light laugh. The sceptre, the crown, the dagger, the pallium 
 and the royal mantle, can never be advantageously replaced 
 by the bundle of keys, the scissors, the short-gown and petti- 
 coat, the smart cap and natty apron. 
 
 In the early part of July JNIademoiselle Eachel left for 
 Brussels. The six performances she gave there amounted to 
 40,000 francs, averaging 6G66 francs each. The seats were 
 all taken beforehand for the whole time of her stay, and the 
 enthusiasm she created was no less warm than on former oc- 
 casions. At Lille she played four times, each performance 
 averaging 5000 francs, divided equally between the actress 
 and the management. 
 
 It was not until the 28th of December that Mademoiselle 
 Rachel made her rentrce in Paris. She played on the boards 
 of the Grand Opera for the first time. The occasion was the 
 benefit of Desmousseaux, an actor of the The'atre Fran9ais. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 1845. 
 
 Reconciliation with the Public. — Classicists and Romanticists. — " Vir- 
 
 ginie." — " Oreste." 
 
 From the beginning of the year 1840 to the beginning of 
 1845, Mademoiselle Rachel, notwithstanding her great success 
 abroad and in the Departments, had had much to contend 
 with at home — home, that is, the home of the artiste — Paris. 
 Some of the grounds for this have been already given ; another 
 important one remains to be explained. Mademoiselle Rachel 
 was the organ of the Classicists, their support, their only hope. . 
 She was, therefore, warmly sustained by them. On the other 
 hand, the partisans of the Romantic school, those who had de-
 
 138 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 clared Corneille antediluvian, and Racine obsolete, attacked 
 tlieir works in the person of the oracle of the dethroned dei- 
 ties ; they contested her triumphs, exaggerated- her failings, 
 and refused to see her merits. This party had allies in the 
 very head-quarters of their adversaries — in the Theatre Fran- 
 9ais itself The management, while it offered to the public 
 Mademoiselle Rachel with Racine and Corneille, was eager to 
 take advantage of the vogue of Victor Hugo. The warmer 
 the contest between the antagonistic schools, the larger were 
 the receipts of the house when each assembled its followers to 
 decry and condemn, to praise and applaud. The drama re- 
 quired melodramatic actors, and the indignant Classicists be- 
 held the darlings of the theatres of the Boulevards, Madame 
 Dorval, M. and Madame Gorgon, Madame Melingue, invading 
 the historic boards hitherto held sacred to the tragic muse, to 
 the genius of Moliere. Before these interpreters of a new 
 faith eveiy door was open wide, every barrier leveled, every 
 obstacle removed; while, on the contrary, those actors who 
 could have rendered able assistance to the classic school, who 
 could perhaps have revived in the public a taste for the old 
 master-pieces, were kept away under all sorts of pretexts. 
 No talent that might attract the notice of the public was per- 
 mitted to stand near Mademoiselle Rachel. Whether influ- 
 enced by the avaricious feeling that grudged the slightest por- 
 tion of public favor to another, or fearful that encouragement 
 might kindle into flame some latent spark as yet ignored even 
 by its possessor, she suffered no actor or actress of even toler- 
 able excellence to appear on the boards with herself. The 
 system was fatal, not only to all talent, but to tragic art. 
 Whenever it was not her turn to speak, the public manifested 
 utter contempt for what was going on. 
 
 The cool indifference, not to call it by a stronger name, 
 with which Rachel herself gave the example of this conduct, 
 was productive of incidents that excited the derisive laughter 
 of the audience. She came on and went off the stage with so 
 little care of what the other actors were doing that she de- 
 stroyed all effect, leaving perhaps Cinna and the Emperor Au- 
 rjustiis titc-u-tltc in the most difficult moment, when the empe- 
 ror has had his say, and the treachex'ous conspirator has noth- 
 ing farther to add.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 139 
 
 This system strengthened the arguments of the partisans of 
 Victor Hugo and Dumas, and it required all Mademoiselle 
 Rachel's talent to sustain the cause of the classic drama. 
 
 In 18io, after five years of struggles, during which the pens 
 of her decriers had known no rest, she seemed to have ex- 
 hausted their animosity. Even Jules Janin, changing sides 
 with his usual suddenness and vehemence, was once more loud 
 in her praise ; from that time her reign was uninteiTupted, 
 her throne secure. 
 
 The spring of this year was marked by her appearance in 
 " Virginie," a tragedy by M. Latour de St. Ybars, founded on 
 an episode of Roman history immortalized by the genius of 
 Livy. This play Avas an imitation of the " Lucrece" of M. 
 Ponsard. These oft-told tales, these worn out themes, are 
 associated in the memory of our childhood's gi-ief with many 
 a sorrowful hour of penance, with many a tear shed, not over 
 the hapless fate of the heroine, but over our own, that bound 
 us to the wearying page when the bright sun and the song of 
 birds — happy birds that learned no lessons ! — wooed us into 
 the free air to add our childish voice to Nature's hymn of joy. 
 But modern times in vain proffered scenes as tragical, passions 
 as violent ; the bloody crimes it has pleased capricious man, 
 reversing his own laws, to sanctify and to glorify throughout 
 long ages, the suicide of the patrician dame, and the infanti- 
 cide perpetrated by the plebeian father, the one inaugurating 
 the Republic, the other overthrowing the power of the De- 
 cemvirs, both adopted as the pretexts, but neither of them the 
 real causes of revolutions, these were the novelties Messieurs 
 Ponsard and Latour St. Ybai's chose to revamish and vamp 
 up as being best suited to the display of Mademoiselle Rachel's 
 peculiar style of tragic excellence. 
 
 With what success M. Ponsard executed his task we shall 
 not at present discuss. On his equally difficult one M. Latour 
 St. Ybars exhausted all his flowers of rhetoric, all his collegiate 
 erudition. * Every reminiscence of ancient lore, every record of 
 the habits, manners, and language of those partly civilized 
 barbarians, the customs of the forum, of the battle-field, and 
 of the interior of their houses, are pressed into his service ; 
 the household lai-es and the pots and pans of Herculaneum
 
 140 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL, 
 
 and Pompeii were scrubbed up and crowded into the picture 
 without regard to cost and with indefatigable industry. Mod- 
 em works on ancient history, or on the Middle Ages, resemble 
 the catalogue of the auction sale of an old curiosity-shop. 
 Corneille and Racine disdained this clap-trap schoolboy erudi- 
 tion ; they had a rich store of ideas, and cared not to show 
 themselves Roman upholsterers, tailors, and milliners. Mod- 
 ern poets have gi'eater abundance of words, yet all their 
 crowns of oaken leaves, their vervain, saffron, barley, &c., &c., 
 are not worth a fine Latin expression skillfully conveyed into 
 French ; real beauties are sacrificed to tinsel and meretricious 
 ornament. The work of restoration is conscientiously per- 
 formed, and the result has been about as beneficial to the 
 present age as such restorations usvially prove. 
 
 The first scene of "Virginia" opens with a monologue, in 
 which the soldier's daughter, about to quit her paternal home 
 to accompany Jcilius, her betrothed, to the altar, invokes her 
 household divinities. Here the poet found a capital oppor- 
 tunity to string together an astounding number of Roman 
 formulas, articles of creed, points of belief, forms and fashions. 
 The emptiness of this accumulation of sonorous old scraps of 
 Latinity, gathered from the Gradus ad Parnassum, is not no- 
 ticed amid the grandiloquence of the language that comes 
 with a certain grace and propriety from the lips of the young 
 Roman maiden, arrayed in her graceful garb, so accurately 
 copied, and giving full relief to the lines with her proud brow 
 and intelligent look. The old senator, Fahius, who comes to 
 complain that he has not been invited to grace with his pres- 
 ence the nuptials of his client's daughter, is not lacking in 
 eloquence, though the history of the war and the deeds of his 
 house is rather lengthy and pompous, and seems, moreovei-, 
 uncalled for under the circumstances. Virginhis, on his side, 
 is not to be outdone in eloquence : when reproached by Clau- 
 dius with wasting his hours in domestic joys, he takes occa- 
 sion to enumerate a series of ultra-Roman circumstances and 
 particulars quite as foreign to the subject as his patron's 
 harangue. 
 
 Thus urged, however, Virrjinim hastens to lead his daughter 
 to the altar, leaving the enamored decemvir to inform his
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 141 
 
 client, Mnocime, and the anxious public, of the means he has 
 taken to prevent the marriage which he had apparently seemed 
 to hasten. The maiden is seemingly beyond his reach. She 
 is on her way to the temple, led by Fabius, escorted by her 
 father and her promised husband, and preceded by the priest- 
 ess of Vesta. But Claudius has taken his measures in time ; 
 he has the previous eve summoned the obedient Flamine, and 
 commanded that a prodigy shall prevent the present union of 
 the lovers. The father can not wait ; he will leave Rome for 
 the camp with his intended son-in-law, and the maiden will 
 be left to the tender mercies of the wicked. 
 
 The scenes that follow show the decemvir has been obeyed 
 — the gods have manifested their opposition. The return 
 of the bridal cortege ; the maiden driven from the temple by 
 lying auguries ; the old soldier parting from his child and 
 committing her to the protection of his lares ere he returns to 
 his military duties ; Virginia, filled with sad presentiments, 
 mute and motionless — all these have a fine dramatic effect, 
 and conistitute a good first act. 
 
 With the second act commences the criminal manoeuvres 
 of Claudius. Virginia enters and relates to her nurse how a 
 beldame has met her on her way, and, in the name of Clau- 
 dius, insulted her with the oifer of his heart, his wealth, and 
 his power. The passage in which Virginia rejects with scorn 
 and indignation the gifts the tempter has sent in her absence 
 are fine : 
 
 "Et ces ornements vils qn'il m'ose presenter, 
 Sont faits de ce metal qui sert pour aeheter ! 
 Va rendre a Claudius tons ces dons, et sur I'hcurG 
 Les presents de cet homme ont souille ma demeure ; 
 Et ce serait blesser notre honneur et nos dicux 
 Que d'y porter la main, que d'y jeter les yeux. " 
 
 The interview that follows between Claudius and his doom- 
 ed victim is a long one, and the death of her lover, of which 
 he informs Virginia to prove to her she is free to return his 
 love, is confirmed by the vestal sister of Icilius. At the rev- 
 elation of the bloody catastrophe that realizes her sad presenti- 
 ments and sundry threatening auguries, Virginia extends her 
 hand toward the sister, and, fixing her dilated eyes on the
 
 142 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 guilty decemvir, exclaims, " I believe you !" The effect of 
 this sudden outcry of the soul was very fine as given by Made- 
 moiselle Rachel ; the intelligence, the indignation, the expres- 
 sion of passion in the eye of the young tragic actress gave to 
 these simple words an extraordinary breadth and power. 
 
 Though the main argument is not developed in the second 
 act, these preliminary events prepare the spectator for the 
 more violent manifestation of the passion of Apjnus Claudius 
 and for the final catastrophe. 
 
 The third act is skillfully and boldly written, though the 
 poet diverges from the path of history to add new interest. 
 The chaste maiden is not permitted to await the sentence of 
 the judge in the hallowed and safe retreat her father's house 
 affords. She must be exposed to the horrors of a night pass- 
 ed in the power of her licentious persecutor ere she passes 
 from a life of innocence through the gates of a violent death. 
 The finale of the third act, when old Fabius, anxious for the 
 honor of his client's daughter left to his charge, whispers, 
 " Take this steel ;" and Virginia answers, " I am free," ex- 
 cited great applause. Another passage in which Mademoi- 
 selle Rachel produced an extraordinary sensation is that where 
 Virginia, confronted with Maxime, who claims her as his slave, 
 exclaims thrice, and each time with increased indignation, 
 " He lies ! he lies ! he lies !" 
 
 At the rise of the curtain in the fourth act it is night, and 
 the iron lainp casts its beams over the desolate home. Vir- 
 ginius, who has, in blissful unconsciousness, escaped all the 
 snares laid by his enemies, returns from the army. Full of 
 hope and joy, ignorant of the death of his son-in-law, of the 
 danger of his daughter, he enters his home. The manner in 
 which the evil tidings are communicated by Fabius to the 
 wretched parent, the despair of the two friends, the terrible 
 suspense while thought recoils and hesitates between the two 
 equally to be dreaded alternatives of the death or dishonor of 
 the beloved maiden, show dramatic skill. The return of Vir- 
 ginia, still pure, to the arras of her father, is very efl^ective, and 
 her narrative of the events of the night afford scope to the 
 poetical genius of the author. The fine description of the 
 wooing of the decemvir and the suicidical threat of the maid
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 143 
 
 came with splendid effect from the lips of Mademoiselle Ka- 
 chel. IIei*e she was in her element ; the whole of this part 
 was admirably adapted to her style. 
 
 In the fifth act the assembled people await the important 
 decision. The iniquitous judge is in the tribunal, and Vii'- 
 ginia will learn whether she is a free lloman or a slave. But 
 the trial of the past night has exhausted her energy ; fear in- 
 vades her heart ; she hesitates to leave her happy home ; she 
 trembles, she would delay ; she feels that she is doomed ; that 
 to yon cruel man's will there is no resistance ; from him there 
 is no refuge, no appeal. She turns to her father, to F'abius, to 
 her nurse, to all who love her, imploring mercy, protection. 
 Alas ! none can save, and she is compelled to bid a weeping 
 farewell to her home — the home she knows she will never 
 more enter. This beautiful passage was delivered in tones of 
 deeper tenderness than Mademoiselle Rachel had hitherto been 
 thought capable of expressing. Her accents of passionate, 
 melting eloquence moved her audience to tears. 
 
 The fifth act is foreseen. The poet had it ready to his hand, 
 written in the happiest style of the Roman historian. The 
 merit of M. Latour consists in his having adhered so strictly to 
 his text. He could not follow a better guide. He has had 
 the good sense at this critical moment to refrain from all pe- 
 dantic enumerations, all cumbersome accessories Avhich would 
 have marred the tragic effect of the simple fact. He goes 
 straight to the point : his heroine, kneeling and imploring the 
 merciful intervention of the people, is true to nature ; she in- 
 dulges in no superfluities of language ; she weeps, and waits 
 with resignation the decision, not of the decemvir — she knows 
 no hope is there — but that of the people. Here ends the part 
 of the daughter, and here begins that of the Roman father. 
 The scene between the parent and child should be short, for 
 the decemvir's lictor is listening ; moreover, such agony will 
 not bear prolongation : if the father hesitates, the daughter is 
 doubly lost. 
 
 Virginie. Ma miire * * * n faxit moui-ir. 
 
 Claudius. Emmencz cette esclave. 
 
 Virginius (stabbing his daughter). Elle est fibre ! 
 
 The cry of the people, "Death to the tyrant," appropri-
 
 144 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 ately closes the tragic scene. The success of " Virginie" was 
 real — was complete. Since "Lucrece," no modern tragedy- 
 had met with such acceptation from a French audience ; but 
 "Lucrece" was in a few days laid upon the shelf, while " Vir- 
 ginie," sustained by the talent of Mademoiselle Eachel, was 
 long played. In this role, which was admirably well adapt- 
 ed, especially in some of the scenes — that with Apjnus Clau- 
 dius, for instance — to her powers, the actress rose to the full 
 height of her excellence. She displayed her indomitable ener- 
 gy, her perseverance, her strength of will. She felt that she 
 had her reputation at stake. She had failed in the creations 
 she had hitherto brought out. Whether the failures were at- 
 tributable to the plays or to the actress, the evil results were 
 no less keenly felt by her, and she saw the necessity of proving 
 that the fault was not in her, but in the materials given her. 
 She felt her sunlight was paling. The public, ever ready to 
 dispel its own illusions, to destroy the idol it had worshiped, 
 was beginning to show carelessness and indifference. Some 
 great effort was requisite to rouse it from a torpor which, long 
 continued, would have proved fatal. Had she again failed, 
 defeat would have severely shaken, if not utterly killed, her 
 prosperity. She rose with the peril of the crisis, and, achiev- 
 ing the most glorious triumph, seized with firmer grasp the 
 sceptre that was sliding from her hand. 
 
 The success of " Virginie" contented the public for some 
 months. In June Mademoiselle Eachel carried it into Brit- 
 tany. She spent her conge at Nantes and Brest. Her tri- 
 umph was somewhat less agreeable from the fact that it was 
 shai'ed in Lyons by the actor Ligiei-, in whose praise the pro- 
 vincials were so enthusiastic that the Parisian critics were 
 much amused. The idea of placing Ligier on a line with 
 Mademoiselle Eachel fully warranted the ridicule with which 
 it was visited. 
 
 On the Gth of June Mademoiselle Eachel took a part in the 
 celebration of the anniversary of Corneille — a celebration, be 
 it remembered to her honor, she had been the first to think of 
 introducing. She was so charmed at this time by the success 
 of Virginie that she forgot how inappropriate was the costume 
 of this rule to the circumstance, and appeared in it in the pa-
 
 MEMOIKS 01^ RACHEL. 145 
 
 geant got up in remembrance of Corneille in lieu of choosing 
 that of Camille. 
 
 During the absence of Mademoiselle Rachel her sister made 
 her dehid at La Gaiete, in " Le Canal St, Martin." 
 
 At her rentrve on the Gth of September, the favorite again 
 found her Parisian public cold and sulky. The play was 
 « Virginie." The first act was received with indifference, but 
 the talent of the actress, her evident wish to please, dispelled 
 the cloud at last, and the plaudits were loud and prolonged. 
 It was, probably, an excellent thing for Rachel that she was 
 now never received at the very outset with premeditated ap- 
 plause, but was compelled to earn it by dint of talent and la- 
 bor. She was obliged to study, and dared not play carelessly. 
 
 In this month she appeared again in Phedre, a role she had 
 not acted for eighteen months. The improvement she had 
 made was already very perceptible, although she had not reach- 
 ed the perfection in it which she subsequently attained. The 
 house was filled to suffocation. This was the case now when- 
 ever Rachel was to play, otherwise the Theatre Fran9ais was 
 a desert. There was no medium — the house was full or 
 empty. " Phedre" was much applauded, and the criticisms 
 of the feuilletons gave her great credit for her performance in 
 the difficult scene of the declaration, in that of the impreca- 
 tions against her muse, in the scene where she comes on to 
 die — in fact, in all the passages where there is more energy 
 than tenderness she was pronounced admirable. 
 
 On the 25th of October she again played on the boards of 
 the Opera House. The performance was for the benefit of 
 Massol, and the play was " Les Horaces." During the first 
 three acts the public was attentive, but encouraging; at the 
 fourth the applause was tremendous. The effect this fine 
 tragedy produced on the stage was partly attributable to the 
 superiority of its acoustic construction. This point is not so 
 much attended to where the house is not exclusively intended 
 for music, and it is a great pity it should be so, as the enjoy- 
 ment is much diminished at times by the difficulty of hearing 
 distinctly in every part of the house what is said on the stage. 
 
 We have noted so minutely the fluctuations of public favor 
 and the difficulties against which the candidate is called to 
 
 G
 
 146 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 struggle as an encouragement to future aspirants whose pa- 
 tience and perseverance may be in danger of giving way before 
 a discontented audience. The example afforded in this in- 
 stance may prove useful to others. It is said that " faint 
 heart never won fair lady :" the public is harder to satisfy, 
 and far more exacting, than the veriest coquette. 
 
 The close of this year witnessed a vain attempt to resusci- 
 tate Voltaire's tragedy of " Orestes," which had not been act- 
 ed since the year 1750. Eachel, tempted by the role oi Elec- 
 tra, did not reflect on the innumerable difficulties she would 
 encounter in bringing to life this dead play. She made in- 
 credible efforts, and only succeeded in galvanizing it moment- 
 arily. All her talent could not make it acceptable with the 
 public : she spent her breath on cold ashes. The part of 
 Electra is monotonous, destitute of grandeur or majesty; its 
 passion is worn and threadbare, its terror and grief lack the 
 semblance of reality : this spectre of the past bears an empty 
 um, and it was in vain that the actress who had evoked it 
 endeavored to excite sympathy or interest in an audience as- 
 tonished at its own indifference. Ccrtes, had the play been 
 almost any other, the case would have been otherwise, for on 
 no other occasion had Eachel displayed the energy, the talent, 
 the courage and perseverance with which, night after night, 
 she endeavored to support this unfortunate " Orestes." She 
 had studied well the character of the Grecian princess, ani- 
 mated by the one sole feeling — vengeance. Even amid the 
 rapturous joy the recognition of her brother causes, the impla- 
 cable, the ruling idea preserves its sway : she is already long- 
 ing to place the dagger in the hand of her newly-found brother : 
 it is the avenger rather than the brother she embraces. In 
 the bitterness with which she replied to Chjtemnestra, the cold 
 haughtiness and crushing disdain with which she addressed 
 Egysthiis, the eager affection she manifested to Orestes bearing 
 the ashes o^ Plisthmes, the one predominating thought is ever 
 uppermost. The spirit of the Greek dramatists was better 
 expressed by the actress than by the author. 
 
 The character of Electra contained in itself all the elements 
 Mademoiselle Rachel could best use ; her great powers had 
 full scope, for here was every passion she excelled in express-
 
 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 147 
 
 ing, while she suiFered no restraint, and was compelled to no 
 efi'ort to curb nature or delineate the softer feelings. Here if 
 there are tears, Ihey are the few burning drops impotent rage 
 lets fall. That Mademoiselle Eachel rose to her full height 
 in Electra, and that no character could suit her better, all the 
 critics of the day allowed ; but the public had declared at^ainst 
 the play itself, and no effort could change that determination. 
 She had dressed her part admirably. Her cold, sad, gray 
 costume, bordered with red ; her slight, delicate arms impris- 
 oned in iron links ; her fixed, stern gaze, and brow full of 
 strong will, gave her the appearance of a young Nemesis. 
 
 But all was in vain. She had undertaken an impossibility. 
 Orestes was a rock on which all her talent was wrecked. The 
 amount of energy spent here would have set up a worse play 
 on another theme. The other actors, amazed and terrified at 
 the determined perseverance of Rachel and the apathy of the 
 public, hastened through their parts, eager to get off the stage. 
 One alone seemed to share the anxiety, the impotent resolu- 
 •tion of Eachel — the young Rebecca aided her efforts with the 
 despair of a child who sees her sister drowning, and would 
 rescue her at any cost. At one time, overcome by emotion, 
 seeing Rachel's unavailing efforts, she threw herself in her 
 arras with a cry of anguish so real there was no mistakinf 
 the poor girl's feeling. The house resounded with applause 
 for some minlites. 
 
 And every time the play was given these desperate efforts 
 were repeated, for Rachel had chosen it, and she would not 
 be gainsaid — she would not admit she was wrong. Unfortu- 
 nately, she bore within herself the worst obstacle to the con- 
 tinuance of this battle with the will of the public. Her frail 
 organization was opposed to her strong will ; her voice, ex- 
 erted so valiantly, at times utterly failed her; the passion 
 that burned within found no utterance. Alas ! all this talent, 
 this instinctive knowledge of dramatic art, this eloquence in 
 its expression, all were hanging on a breath. Even then was 
 foreshadowed the dread disease that was to make such havoc 
 in that delicate constitution. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel might, perhaps, have succeeded in 
 persuading her audience that Voltaire's wretched imitation
 
 148 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 of the magnificent works of Sophocles and Euripides was 
 worth the sublime works of Corneille — that this wretched 
 verse was worth the polished, elegant lines of Racine, had 
 she been ably supported. But the error her selfishness had 
 committed was now visited on her own head. She had wish- 
 ed to stand alone in her triumphs ; she stood alone to support 
 this crushing weight. She fought for her Electra as the faith- 
 ful fought for their vanquished gods, and found strength in 
 the imminence of the peril ; but the dastards by whom she 
 was surrounded did not even make a stand for the defense of 
 their own insulted altars, beneath the shelter of their own 
 profaned temple. Under such circumstances, without an 
 army, without captains or soldiers, in ' a bad cause, victory 
 was impossible, defeat inevitable. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 1846. 
 
 "Jeanne d'Arc." — Rachel m Holland. — The Theatre Franijais a Land 
 of Promise. — Dissensions with the Management. — A Soul of Fire in 
 an Envelojje of Gauze. — Mademoiselle Clairon and the Duke of 
 Choiseul. — Rumored Conversion. — Cheap Proselytism. — Amenaide 
 without aTancrede. — Death of Mademoiselle Mars. — Retirement of 
 Joanny and Mademoiselle Georges. 
 
 In March of this year the " Jeanne d'Arc" of Alexander 
 Soumet was revived, with Mademoiselle Rachel as the hero- 
 ine. The annals of France present no finer subject for trag- 
 edy than Jeanne d'Arc. On no other page will be found 
 such grand elements of inspiration ; religion, loyalty, heroism, 
 virtue, are all united here ; yet no poet, either in past or 
 present times, has been found to inake good use of these 
 splendid and abundant materials. There is not a poem or a 
 tragedy in any language that does justice to the resplendent 
 creature that casts so glorious a halo over her age. The 
 fame of the heroine has received no new lustre, no confirm- 
 ation from the degenerate lips that have undertaken to sing 
 her praises. They have succeeded in dwarfing the more than 
 human proportions of the figure they sought to reproduce ; 
 they seem to have looked at this grand image through an
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 149 
 
 inverted opera-glass, and to have given us the Liliputian 
 statuette they saw there. Nay, among the most gifted chil- 
 dren of the god of song, among those who could best have 
 handled a theme worthy of a second Homer, one was found 
 so lost to all sense of patriotism, honor, honesty, gratitude, 
 and truth, so degraded in mind, so perverted in heart, so 
 crazed by mistaken vanity, so sunk to the lowest depths of 
 cynicism, as to spit venom on the immaculate fame of that 
 sainted maiden-warrior who rescued his forefathers from the 
 yoke of the usurper, who gave new being, new birth to France, 
 and raised her children from the oblivion in which they and 
 their memories had else perished. That one -VNTetched poem 
 suffices to stamp infamy on the name of Voltaire. 
 
 Of ajl the unsuccessful, weak, paltry trash that has since 
 been perpetrated on this theme, M. Soumet's tragedv is per- 
 haps the worst. This wretched compound of unskillful lies, 
 trivial inventions, and childish contrivances could not be suc- 
 cessful even when administered by Kachel. 
 
 In the soul-stirring pages of a prose wi-iter — of a Michelet 
 only — can we find realized our conception of the representa- 
 tive of all the good sense, if not all the courage, of the France 
 of 1429. His pen, inspired by real genius, guided by the 
 spirit of everlasting truth, has been found worthy to evoke 
 this sublime image ; on liis palette alone have been found 
 colors to paint the thunder-laden, blood-tinged clouds through 
 which shone the star that led France onward to a glorious 
 regeneration. 
 
 When from the grand prose of Michelet we descend to the 
 puny, halting, miserable pathos of Soumet, we can not but 
 recoil with disgust from any analysis of his production, and 
 hastily turn away from these five acts, filled with gibbets, 
 dungeons. Parliaments, and stakes. Though not a superior 
 production, Schiller's "Joan of Arc" is still a master-piece 
 compared to that of Soumet. The German poet has brought 
 before us the whole life of the maid. We have the already 
 chosen girl in the humble home of her childhood, placing on 
 her fair tresses the golden helmet she has found, and dream- 
 ing of the English masters of the fair fields and towns of 
 France, of the dishonored crown of her kings, of the Jezebel
 
 150 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 queen-mother. She sees, she feels, she understands all the 
 long, fearful series of treasons, bloody battles, defeats, pitiless 
 massacres, devastations, pillages, and woes numberless and 
 unutterable. The hand of God has lit within her heart the 
 sacred and unextinguishable fire ; she rises and follows with- 
 out hesitation the guiding voice that cries out to her from the 
 desert. This is better than mere poetry : it is historical truth, 
 and herein consists the merit of the German author ; herein, 
 too, lies the crime of the degenerate Frenchman, whose touch 
 contaminates or conceals these great records of the past. 
 "Who shall dare deny the divine inspiration when a nation 
 becomes regenerate at her voice, and its dead hopes rekindle 
 at her breath ! The sunken and desponding people that had 
 lost all faith in its king, its priests, and even in its God, hails 
 the envoy of pitying Heaven, and recognizes her mission. 
 She baffles the world-wise wisdom of theologians by her 
 prompt judgment ; w^omen admire her modesty, men her 
 valor, the people at large her saint-like beauty. We repeat 
 it — the German poet has followed history, and found a road 
 to every heart. The Frenchman followed the by-paths of 
 his own petty invention, and wandered into the realms of 
 obscurity and dullness. 
 
 Unfortunately, it was not the tragedy of Schiller that 
 Mademoiselle Eachel was to present to the public ; it was 
 the nondescript work of Soumet, and she could not invest it 
 with every quality it lacked, or conceal all the faults it had. 
 She made as good use as it was possible of the materials 
 given her. Her action was full of energy, yet she had the 
 calm, the patience, and the dignity the character demanded. 
 She looked remarkably well in her gold and silver armor, 
 her coat of mail and gauntlets, and a too great consciousness 
 of this made her commit the error of retaining it after the 
 first act, forgetting that Jeanne should appear before her 
 judges in the garments of her sex : her armor was one of 
 the charges brought against her by the infamous Bishop Can- 
 clion. In the scene with the Duke of Burguncly, in the third 
 act, she was admirable. In the death-seen^ she was a model 
 of statuesqite beauty, enveloped in the folds of the banner, and 
 sinking, overcome by the pitiless flames ; the banner itself,
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 151 
 
 however, is an absurdity, as contrary to good sense as it is 
 to the truth of history. In the first place, no one can imagine 
 how the French banner can be in the hands of the helpless 
 prisoner of the English. What the poor victim really held is 
 recorded. " She asked for the cross. An Englishman handed 
 her a cross which he made out of a stick ; she took it, rudely 
 fashioned as it was, with not the less devotion, kissed it, and 
 placed it under her garments, next to her skin." — (" History 
 of France," by M. Michelet, vol. ii., p. 152..) There is no 
 doubt that, had the reality been presented. Mademoiselle 
 Rachel Avould have made as picturesque a use of the rude 
 emblem of salvation as she did of the banner, and the effect 
 would have been far more pathetic. But that the actress had 
 a great fancy for the theatrical effect she imagined she had 
 produced, enveloped in the folds of the banner, was proved 
 two years after. 
 
 In the latter part of May, Mademoiselle Rachel set out for 
 Holland, intending to spend there and in England a conge that 
 was to last two months. She was received by the phlegmatic 
 Dutch with the enthusiasm that greeted her elsewhere — an 
 enthusiasm which, at its pecuniary value, gave a result of 
 52,000 francs in 15 days. She performed in Antwerp on the 
 20th. 
 
 In Lille, however, her success was from some cause or other 
 not as productive to the management as had been expected. 
 After the fourth performance, M. Bardon, the manager, hav- 
 ing exposed the situation of affairs, by which it appeared he 
 had sustained considerable loss by the engagement made with 
 her, Mademoiselle Rachel consented to give a fifth perform- 
 ance, the produce of which should be equally divided between 
 the manager on one side, and M. Genies and her brother Ra- 
 phael, who then accompanied her. She stipulated as a con- 
 dition of this unwonted fit of generosity that the scats should 
 be given at the usual prices, and that the subscribers should 
 have a right, as on ordinary occasions, to their seats. Wheth- 
 er the Lillois still retained a lively sense of the injustice done 
 them on former nights, or from some other cause of dissatis- 
 faction, the house was not better filled on this last night than 
 befure, notwithstanding the concessions made.
 
 152 MEMOmS OF RACHEL. 
 
 On the following day Mademoiselle Eachel was attacked by 
 what the physicians called sporadic cholera, and the symp- 
 toms were at first such as to excite great apprehension in her 
 friends. Her prompt recovery, however, permitted of her pur- 
 suing her journey to London, where she performed twelve 
 times in the space of three weeks. 
 
 The success of Rachel had, as we have already seen, devel- 
 oped in her brothers and sisters an irresistible vocation for the 
 stao-e, and one aSter the other they were forced upon the man- 
 agement of different houses at handsome salaries. Raphael, 
 who had made his clebut with Rebecca the preceding year at 
 the Odeon, made his debiit this year, in the first week of May, 
 on the boards of the Theatre Fran(;ais, in "Les Horaces." 
 Sarah was at the Gaie'te ; even little Dinah, who acted the 
 part of the child threatened with a whipping by Argan in 
 "Le Malade Imaginaire," had a share in the spoils of the 
 Philistines. Another child of Israel, Mademoiselle Judith, 
 also made her debut this year. It was jestingly remarked that 
 the SvaasofTue was removed to the Theatre Francais. To 
 one fortunate Hebrew family it had certainly proved a land 
 of promise. 
 
 The continual exertions of Mademoiselle Eachel had told 
 on her delicate constitution, and on her return to Paris in the 
 first week of September she solicited a prolongation of her 
 conge for two months, in order to take the rest she so much 
 needed. To this request the management replied, with toler- 
 able good reason, that if Mademoiselle Rachel had overworked 
 herself, it had hitherto been to fill her own pockets, and that 
 she could not expect the house to be the loser. The object 
 of a conge was to enable the actors to recruit their strength, 
 not to exhaust it. The dispute Avaxed high. Mademoiselle 
 Rachel brought forward the usual excuse of illness, and could 
 not, or would not play. The management made use of their 
 right, and sent the physician attached to the theatre to ascer- 
 tain the truth of the alleged indisposition. He was not ad- 
 mitted, and, rather than submit to what she denominated ex- 
 actions, the actress sent in her resignation as societaire toward 
 the close of September. This was the commencement of the 
 dissensions between INIademoiselle Rachel in person and the
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 153 
 
 management. The blame could no longer, as during her mi- 
 nority, be thrown on her fathei*. These quarrels, though oc- 
 casionally healed, continued to break out during all the re- 
 mainder of her dramatic career. The resignation sent in by 
 Mademoiselle Rachel was merely intended to frighten the man- 
 agement into compliance with her demands. The threat was 
 too ill grounded to be effective : the resignation was not valid. 
 A clause of the decree of 1812, known as the Decree of Mos- 
 cow, and which is the charter of the Theatre Fran^ais, stipu- 
 lates that when a societaire wishes to resign, the resignation 
 must be notified " one year beforehand," and the notification 
 must be also reiterated six months after. A societaire must 
 have had the title ten years before he can resign. Mademoiselle 
 Kachel had only had it eight years. She had been elected in 
 1842 ; but the title is retroactive, and counts the time from 
 the entrance in the Theatre Fran9ais. She had entered in 
 1838. 
 
 Notwithstanding this fit of the sulks, Mademoiselle Rachel 
 came again before the public in October in " Phedre." The 
 improvement each successive year witnessed in her perform- 
 ance of this, the finest as well as the most difiicult rale in the 
 classic repertoire, was hailed with delight by a numerous au- 
 dience. Never had the applause been more frequent and sin- 
 cere. It was on the occasion of her playing Phklre in the 
 succeeding month of November that the following anecdote 
 was related : 
 
 The tragedienne, electrified by the breathless attention of 
 her audience, had never shown herself so great, so sublime. 
 Inspired by the genius of antiquity, she was the personification 
 of this delirium of passion, this mad torrent of conflicting ele- 
 ments, exhaling in volcanic accents disdain, rage, love, remorse, 
 this tortured daughter of Pasiphie. Among those who seem- 
 ed most deeply absorbed in the contemplation of this magnifi- 
 cent specimen of di-amatic art, that succeeded in drawing tears 
 for sorrows of which the subject stood back from the present 
 generation a distance of thirty centuries, was a personage who, 
 between the acts, divided with Phedre the attention of the 
 audience. This was the Bey of Tunis, a man yet young, with 
 the intelligent look, the pensive head, the sad smile, so fre- 
 
 Ci 2
 
 154 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 quently the characteristics of the Oriental. The fixity of his 
 gaze seemed to denote that, notwithstanding his ignorance of 
 the language, the eloquence of the countenance and gestures of 
 the actress enabled him to understand the play. When the 
 actress was recalled to receive the floral homage showered 
 upon the stage, she could not help glancing at the prince, 
 who, resplendent with jewels, was so gravely attentive to all she 
 did and said. One of the persons present in his box, asking 
 the Bey what his highness thought of Rachel, he replied, " It 
 is a soul of fire in an envelope of gauze." The prince's answer 
 was diversely reported, another version being, '• It is the soul 
 of an eagle in the body of a gazelle." The first is the most 
 natural when it is considered what a frail, reed-Jike figure 
 gave utterance to those violent passions. 
 
 The sending in of her resignation by Mademoiselle Eachel 
 in a fit of anger brings to mind the letter of the Duke of 
 Choiseul to Mademoiselle Clairon on a similar occasion, when 
 that celebrated actress wished to give up the stage she so much 
 regretted afterward. The minister's letter contained the fol- 
 lowino; sensible advice : 
 
 " If I may be allowed to advise you, mademoiselle, remain 
 where you are ; believe me, and rest assured I speak to you 
 as a true and loyal confrere; do we not both play the first 
 parts on a great stage? with this difference, that you choose 
 those you will act, and I am obliged to act them all ; you ap- 
 pear and are loudly applauded, I am most usually hissed ; and 
 yet I remain on my stage. Imitate me, and you will not re- 
 pent ha\-ing done so." 
 
 About this time it was currently reported that, abjuring the 
 God of Abraham and of Isaac, renouncing the creed of seventy 
 generations, Mademoiselle Rachel -was about to become a 
 Christian. As is usual in such cases, every particular was 
 minutely given : the sponsors were known ; the day, the hour, 
 the church, the minister had been named ; the catechumene had 
 been seen with contrite look, clasped hands, rosary at her side, 
 going to i-epeat her catechism in a house that was also well 
 known. The young neophyte was to receive as a christening 
 gift from her godfather diamonds to the amount of 50,000 
 francs. A witty feuilletonist, recording this neicspaper fact,
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 155 
 
 added, "Jean Jacques Rousseau became a convert for the sum 
 of three francs in sous !" 
 
 Pending the confirmation of these reports, the subject of 
 them was left neither quite a Christian nor yet a Jewess, 
 hanging, Hke Mohammed's coffin, between heaven and earth. 
 
 In December Mademoiselle Kachel again played Amendide 
 in "Tancrede." Five years had elapsed since that tragedy 
 had been revived for her, but all her efforts to render it ac- 
 ceptable to the public were unavailing. Yet this "Tancrede," 
 founded on one of the most charming passages of Ariosto's 
 poem, is one of Voltaire's best plays, and is really full of in- 
 terest. Amena'ide, the chivalrous heroine of the Middle Ages, 
 half Oriental and half French, is a very brilliant and fascina- 
 ting character ; yet, notwithstanding her passionate love, her 
 despair, and hei^ splendid costume, she could not, even when 
 represented by Mademoiselle Rachel, find favor with the 
 public. Not that the actress lacked talent in this role, or 
 was wanting in zeal ; the fault was not in her. What was 
 wanting was a Tancrede. When the knight, whose great 
 deeds and passionate love constitute the chief interest of the 
 play, has so incompetent a representative on the stage, the 
 audience can not be made to accept it. The work has the 
 effect of the play announced by the manager of the itinerant 
 company as the play of " Hamlet" with the part of Hamlet 
 left out. Tancrede might as well have been left out. 
 
 In the spi'ing of this year the Theatre Fran9ais lost three 
 of its celebrities. Mademoiselle Mars, whose brilliant dra- 
 matic career had lasted nearly half a century, died in March 
 of this year. She had retired from the stage some few years 
 before. Joanny, the last remaining tragic actor of any excel- 
 lence, the last of the Horatii, retired from the stage in the 
 month of April. Mademoiselle Georges retired in the month 
 of June. Her health no longer permitted her to undergo the 
 fatigue that attended the discharge of her professional duties 
 on the stage, but she opened a class of declamation. Among 
 her pupils may be mentioned an actress of some repute in the 
 United States — Miss Davenport, who took lessons of her in 
 1856.
 
 156 MEMOIES OF RACHEL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 1847. 
 
 "L'Ombre de Molike."— "Le Vieiix de la Montagne."— "Athalie." 
 — " Celimene." — " Cleopatre." 
 
 The year 1847 was inaugurated at the Theatre Fran^ais 
 by the revival of Moliere's "Don Juan" in its original form. 
 The occasion was the anniversary of the author's birth-day. 
 A sort of eclogue, written by M. Barbier, preceded the play. 
 Mademoiselle Rachel and Mademoiselle Brohan, personifying 
 serious and light comedy; 3Iercui^, the shade of Moliere, and 
 a poet, were the dramatis personce in this little piece. Made- 
 moiselle Rachel and Mademoiselle Brohan were dressed in 
 costumes so faithfully imitated from the Muses of the Fontaine 
 Moliere, they seemed statues chiseled by Pi-adier. Prevost 
 represented Moliere with equal accuracy of costume. 
 
 The success of "Virginie" led its author to write, and 
 Mademoiselle Rachel to accept, another tragedy, " Le Vieux 
 de la Montagne," which was brought out at the Theatre 
 Fran9ais on the 6th of February, 1847. Of this play we are 
 tempted to repeat what we said of Catharine II. — if it had 
 been acted as a parody, it would, without the alteration of a 
 word, have proved a most amusing farce. Whether the ex- 
 hilaration of success had rendered M, Latour careless, or wheth- 
 er his dramatic inspiration was short-winded, or from what- 
 ever cause it might proceed, he certainly produced a most sopo- 
 rific, dull, stupid play, destitute of style or grandeur, without 
 one tragic element, without one interesting personage or event. 
 The verse is such as any rhyming schoolboy could equal — flat, 
 insipid, commonplace, showing sense constantly sacrificed to 
 rhyme, and the latter not always successfully achieved. As 
 iov poetry, there is not a line in it from beginning to end. The 
 events narrated are supposed to occur in a place and at a time 
 famous in history — in a fortress of Mount Lebanon, during the 
 first crusade of Saint Louis; but the dramatis personee axe of
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 157 
 
 no age and of no country ; indeed, we question if such a set 
 of double-distilled fools ever existed save in M. Latour's imagi- 
 nation. As Mademoiselle Kachel thought fit to accept the 
 part of the heroine, we ai'e bound to give some analysis of the 
 tragedy. 
 
 Fatima, the daughter of Hassan, the chief of the assassins, 
 has, during a skirmish, fallen into the hands of a knight of the 
 Order of the Temple, the Count de Sabi-an. The new Scipio 
 sends home to her father, scathless and ransomless, the captive 
 of his bow and spear. Since her return the fair maiden droops 
 and pines of some fatal malady not in the books of the learn- 
 ed leeches summoned to restore her to health. The sapient 
 doctors, not being able to administer to a mind diseased any 
 better than the modern sons of Esculapius, and unwilling to 
 confess their ignorance, accuse the Franks of having adminis- 
 tered some secret poison to the prisoner ere they restored her 
 to her father. This is related by Hassan for the information 
 of the public, to his prime minister Benitza, with whom, to 
 judge by his familiarity, he appears to be on the most intimate 
 terms. After narrating how quickly and safely he gets rid of 
 his enemies with ,the help of his faithful band of assassins — by 
 his own account fully justifying their appellation — the old vil- 
 lain begins to fear his many ci'imes are being visited on his 
 daughter, and talks seriously of reforming, and making war 
 openly after a more respectable fashion. He then inquires of 
 his minister what progress has been made during his absence 
 in a matter he has much at heart, namely, the winning the 
 alliance of one Ismael, the chieftain of a horde of Bedouins. 
 The minister reports that he, Benitza, has kept said Ismael in 
 a state of paradisiacal bliss — that is, opium-tipsy — for four 
 days, by way of conciliating his affections. 
 
 . The next scene introduces the new ally just roused from his 
 slumbers, and to him Hassan announces himself as a "prince 
 and a prophet," the " shadow of God," alias the '' Old Man 
 of the Mountain." Notwithstanding the omnipotence these 
 titles infer, he requires the help of Ismael and of 2000 of his 
 lances, in requital for which service he Avill now and then in- 
 duct said Ismael into the garden of Eden, i. e., give him a cup 
 of opium. Ismael does not seem much impressed with the
 
 158 MEMOIES OF KACHEL. 
 
 magnitude of the reward. He says "he don't want Eden, he 
 wants JVIiss Fatima." To this point-blank demand the loving 
 father instantly acquiesces — he shall have Fatvna. Even this 
 does not satisfy Ismael ; he imposes another condition : the 
 Franks have incurred his displeasure; they have killed his 
 father ; they have seen Fatima unveiled ; he desires that Has- 
 san shall forthwith order the heads of all Christian prisoners 
 in the fortress to be chopped off and set as ornaments over the 
 gates. The father-in-law elect, forgetting all his good resolu- 
 tions, consents to every thing without the least hesitation, and, 
 as he does not do things by halves, he summons three true 
 believers, picked men, first-class assassins, gives to each a dag^ 
 ger, and orders the one to go and take off the King of France 
 before the walls of Jerusalem ; the other to stab the Grand 
 Master of the Knights Templar ; to the third he recommends 
 his daughter's late generous host, the Count de Sabran. For- 
 tunately for the prisoners in the fortress, the orders for the 
 wholesale murder are hardly given when Fatima enters. In 
 answer to her fond papa's rather plainly-worded and indiscreet 
 question, 
 
 "As tu vn, dans les murs d'Alep on de Naplouse, 
 Quelque Emir qui fait fait souhaiter d"eti-e epouse ?" 
 
 Miss Fatima replies she wants nothing. Finally, however, she 
 has an indistinct remembrance that she has come for the pur- 
 pose of asking the immediate liberation of the Christian pris- 
 oners : their groans prevent her sleeping. Isinael is rather 
 disgusted at his intended's misplaced compassion, and while 
 the point is being discussed, the doomed prisoners are march- 
 ed across the stage. Among them is the young Count de Sa- 
 bran. Fatima whispers to papa, " I love him." Papa respites 
 all the Christians, and countermands forthwith the orders 
 given to the three assassins. 
 
 In the second act we have M. de Sabran in his prison. In 
 this rule the author can not be accused of plagiary : this mem- 
 ber of the church militant is entirely of his own invention, 
 and much too good to find a counterpart in books, and still 
 less in nature. AVe fear there are few feminine hearts that 
 do not admire Scott's fine creation of the Templar ; notwith- 
 standing his sins, the dark lover of Rebecca, finds favor with
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL, 159 
 
 all fair novel-readers. But M. Latour's hero would accelerate 
 the heart-beat of neither Jewess nor Gentile, despite his many 
 virtues. This monkish knight in love Avith the charming pa- 
 gan talks continually of the Cross, tlic Holy Sepulchre, chas- 
 tity, eternity, and other edifying subjects. In vain the Old 
 Man of the Mountain begs and entreats he will be so good as 
 to accept his treasures and his daughter ; in vain the maiden 
 makes the same request ; he is inflexible, inexorable. The 
 complaisant father tells him he is free to follow his creed ; 
 that the pope will cancel his vows ; and, as a last argument, 
 that FaXima will die if he is obdurate. Fatima herself, who 
 does not care a pin for Mohammed, offers to become a Chris- 
 tian. She is answered that her resolution is a snare of the 
 Evil One : 
 
 " Votre ccEur rous abuse ; 
 Des esprits de I'enfer, reconnaissons la ruse." 
 In a word, he'd rather die than be made happy ; he sighs for 
 martyrdom, and demands to be immediately assassinated by 
 the assassins. The father thinks the farce has lasted long 
 enough — so does the public — and orders the stubborn young 
 fellow shall have his wish. Meanwhile, as Fatima must have 
 a husband, he makes up again with Ismael. 
 
 As for the Templai", he will give him one hour more to 
 make up his mind — to choose whether he will endure happi- 
 ness or death. 
 
 "Et quand, I'beure ecoulee, il faudra que je sorte, 
 Je veux que du chre'tien on ait regie le sort, 
 Je veux qu'il ait subit son bonlieur ou la mort." 
 
 Leaving the hero in this dilemma, the curtain drops on act 
 the second. 
 
 After all this ado, no sooner is this exemplary knight alone 
 with his confessor and the public — and Fatima, who is eaves- 
 dropping behind a curtain — than he sinks on his knees, and 
 confesses he loves — a woman. Confessor seems to think that 
 very natural — so does the pit — so do the galleries, whose ap- 
 probation is rather tumultuous and derisive. That woman is 
 Fatima. This the monk don't seem to think so well of; and 
 the moment there is the slightest opposition, the moment he is 
 bid, " Pray, brother, pray," the knight's love gets as furious
 
 160 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 as it was cold when every one favored it. " He isn't a French- 
 man — he isn't a Christian — he isn't a knight." He swears 
 his soul belongs more to her than to God. He bawls it out 
 aloud — so loud that Fatima is bound to rush in ; the father 
 and all his cortege do likewise ; the monk is ready to ask a 
 blessing on the pair ; and there is great rejoicing, somewhat 
 disagreeably interrupted by the news of the return of Ismael. 
 
 In act the ioxxvih, Ismael, who, on the faith of his father-in- 
 law's word, had gone out and obtained a signal victory over a 
 powerful foe of the latter, returning with the spoils, is, and 
 with good reason, quite furious at the change he finds. The 
 old gentleman, rather puzzled between his two sons-in-law, 
 tries to compound matters with the Bedouin by the offer of a 
 tent, a horse, a sum of money, a castle, all of which are indig- 
 nantly rejected. To settle the point, the two rivals get up a 
 discussion on the merits of their several creeds, at the close of 
 which the Templar offers to fight the Arab and two of his 
 companions all at once. Notwithstanding the advantage of- 
 fered, Ismael seems to think discretion the better part of valor, 
 and cools down. Fatima makes her appearance in wedding 
 costume, and the lovers are going to be united — we are not 
 told in what church — when the three emissaries, who, in the 
 first act, had been sent out on pressing pi'ivate business, come 
 to report themselves. Their master, who has a conveniently 
 short memoiy at times, pretends not to recognize them, but 
 Ismael insists on explaining ; thereupon, one after the other, 
 these agents of darkness deliver themselves of their fatal secret. 
 The old gentleman vainly tries to make them hold their tongues ; 
 they are quite too proud of their exploits. One has caused 
 the King of France to fall into the hands of his enemies ; the 
 other has killed the Grand Master ; the third has sent the old 
 Count de Sabran to his long account. Here's a piece of work. 
 Of course, the Templar is mad with grief; he won't hear of 
 Fatima or of an alliance with murderers ; he is once more " a 
 Christian, a Frenchman, a Templar ;" he clamorously demands 
 his prison, chains, and instant death. Father-in-law, out of 
 patience, orders his head off for the third time. Then comes 
 a terrible to-do between the loving father and daughter. Now 
 that the knight has real cause to refuse his daughter, the old
 
 MEMOIKS OP KACUEL. 161 
 
 land-piratc is quite enraged. This time he is ten times more 
 exacting: the Templar must purchase life at a dearer cost: 
 he must blaspheme his God, he must spit upon the Cross, and 
 he must marry Fatima into the bargain. As a last argument 
 to save the Christian, the lady draws her dagger ; every one 
 has the little professional tool at hand in this family. If the 
 sword falls on his throat, the dagger enters the heart. Once 
 more the order for his death is countermanded, and the fourth 
 act is brought to a close. 
 
 It must be confessed the poor Old Man of the Mountain 
 has some trouble to get his only daughter off his hands. She 
 is a great deal more obstinate than her father. She will take 
 none other for her husband than the Christian, who, en his 
 side, can't make up his mind if he will take her : at first he 
 won't, then he will, then again he won't, then again he will, 
 and at last he is not quite sure Avhether he will or he won't. 
 The doubt is cut short by Ismacl, who comes to besiege the 
 fortress ; the Templar sallies forth in defense, conquers the 
 foe, is mortally wounded, and brought in to die. Fatima falls 
 dead by his side, and the curtain drops. It really is quite a 
 relief to see the perplexed old man rid of his two troublesome 
 sons-in-lavt', between whom he keeps his daughter going back- 
 ward and forward like a shuttlecock during five acts, while 
 he is himself in hot water all the time. 
 
 " Le "V'ieux de la ^Montague" was performed but twice. The 
 failure was too complete to permit of any fresh attempt in it, 
 and INIademoiselle Kachel was fain to seek consolation in the 
 old repertoire. 
 
 On the fifth of the following month the Theatre Fran- 
 ^ais revived •' Athalie."' The cast was as good as it possibly 
 could be in the dearth of tragic actors the theati'e was then 
 suffering. Ligier, who had seen Talma in his great part of 
 the high-priest, and had retained some of his fine traits, was 
 really a good Jocts. Beauvellet played Abner, Mademoiselle 
 Eachel Athalie, and her little sister Dinah the child-king of 
 the Jews. Unfortunately, her choice of this play again proved 
 want of judgment; not, indeed, because the play itself was 
 poor — none could be finer — but that the actress was far too 
 young. To remove this objection Mademoiselle Eachel had
 
 162 JIEMOIRS OF RACHEI- 
 
 recourse to art, and succeeded to such a degree of perfection 
 that the impression produced upon the spectators was exceed- 
 ingly painful. To give a faithful representation of this almost 
 centenarian Queen of the Jews, this daughter of Jezebel, whose 
 crimes outnumbered her years, the actress had had a courage 
 none but a woman, young and good-looking, could appreciate. 
 Long gray locks covered her own dark ones ; her delicate fair 
 skin had disappeared under a vile coating of sienna, on which 
 a steady hand had pitilessly traced the deep furrows of time ; 
 even the eloquent lips Avere withered and disfigured, while the 
 lithe, graceful form was lost in the thick folds with which it 
 was swathed to give it the stouter proportions of age. The 
 thing was overdone : it was not Athalie ; it was some hideous 
 petrifaction, the mummy of a crowned witch restored to life. 
 The effect was the more unpleasant that it was quite unfore- 
 seen. There are frequent instances of young and pretty ac- 
 tresses disguising themselves as old women, but the audience 
 expects the metamorphosis, and the deception is not, as it was 
 in this case, carried through all the play. They return in the 
 happy form of youth and beauty in some of the acts. Besides, 
 the disguise is never can'ied to so painful an extreme. The 
 change in outward appearance seemed to react on her perform- 
 ance, which was feverish and unequal where it should have 
 been calm. In several passages, however, she was very fine, 
 and did full justice to this difficult part. In the last scene of 
 the fifth act, where the queen feels herself lost and gives full 
 scope to her grief, despair, and rage, when the maddened soul 
 breaks forth in open rebellion against the God of the Jews, 
 imder whose mighty hand her power is annihilated, she rose 
 to the full height of her grand dramatic genius. 
 
 "Athalie" was played at the Tuileries before the royal 
 family, and the king honored Mademoiselle Eachel by ex- 
 pressing in person his approbation. 
 
 On the oth of June Mademoiselle Rachel commenced her 
 performance in Amsterdam. In July she shared with Jenny 
 Lind the favor of the London public. She gave in London 
 twelve performances, playing in succession all the pieces of 
 her repertoire witli the exception of " Athalie" and " Poly- 
 eucte," both of ■\\hich were for some reason or other pro- 
 hibited.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 1G3 
 
 It was during this London season that the tragedienne at- 
 tempted a character in wliich Mademoiselle Mars herself, the 
 greatest comedienne of her day — and her day lasted half a cen- 
 tury — Mademoiselle Mars, with her long practice and experi- 
 ence of the stage, her voice so perfect in its intonations, her 
 charming smile, the aristocratic ease and grace of her manner, 
 had not been completely successful in. The character of 
 Celiinene, in Moliere's " Misantrope," requires a natural gift 
 as well as great study and a habit of society. That Made- 
 moiselle Rachel, with her eminent tragic powers, should have 
 completely failed in the delineation of this admirable ensemble 
 of grace, ingenuity, coquetry, malice, wit, sauciness, high- 
 breeding, gayety, folly, and good sense, the most fascinating 
 of Moliere's heroines, is not to be wondered at. Even in 
 London the attempt met with no encouragement. She knew 
 better than to repeat it in Paris. Several tragic actresses 
 have been excellent in comedy, but Mademoiselle Rachel was 
 exclusively a tragedienne. Her great error consisted in never 
 weighing Avell her powers or her strength. 
 
 On her return to Paris Mademoiselle Rachel accepted the 
 part of Clcopdtre in Madame de Girardin's tragedy of that 
 name, which was brought out on the 13th of November. 
 
 The only objection she made to the play was that the 
 authoress had given so plebeian a name to the lover of the 
 Queen of Egypt. She thought something better might have 
 been chosen than Anthonij for the name of the hero. 
 
 The number of times this oft-told tale has been dramatized 
 should, one would imagine, discourage any fresh attempt of 
 the kind. Besides the many Ckopatras that have been buried 
 in the sea of oblivion as soon as born, and of which notices in 
 dramatic catalogues alone remain to tell that ever they exist- 
 ed, there are extant above thirty tragedies in various lan- 
 guages, of which Cleopatra is the heroine. There are sixteen 
 French ones, of which Marmontel's — a weak, frigid produc- 
 tion in the old classic style — was the best. Of four Italian 
 ones, that of Alfieri alone has won a distinguished place in 
 point of literary merit. His heroine is, howeVter, a hard, 
 treacherous, selfish, ambitious, and wicked woman, less true 
 to history and far less brilliant than the bewitching, fasci-
 
 164 BIEMOIES OF RACHEL. 
 
 nating creation of Shakspeare. As a work of real genius, 
 however, it ranks deservedly high. The Germans have " Octa- 
 via" of Kotzebue, that has not been able to keep its place on 
 the German stage, or to win one in literatui-e. With Shak- 
 speare leading the van; with Corneille's "Pompey," so full 
 of the noblest passages ; with Dryden's " All for Love, or the 
 World well Lost ;" with Alfieri's " Cleopatra," full of thought, 
 and power, and bitter passion ; with the host of the unim- 
 mortalized that had passed, one would think nothing had 
 been left unsaid on this threadbare theme. These considera- 
 tions could not deter the French poetess The following is the 
 substance of the five acts she gave to the Parisian public ; the 
 reader may judge, more or less, whether the additions made 
 to the text of Plutarch have increased the interest of the 
 original. 
 
 The first act opens with a scene between Ventidius, who 
 brings a message (never delivered) from Antlumy to Cleopatra, 
 and Diomede, her secretary. The lengthy speeches of these 
 two subordinates take up almost all the act. They are plot- 
 ting to prevent the illustrious triumvir from becoming the 
 sworn vassal of the fascinating Egyptian Circe, and one would 
 think, from Avhat they say, that the lovers had never yet met. 
 Ventidius, as a Roman, is justified in fearing the ascendency 
 of CleojKitra ; he would not the neglected sceptre of the world 
 should be left to fall into the hands of Octavius : while power 
 is equipoised between the two rivals, Rome is tyrannized over 
 by neither. The treachery of the Greek (his name and con- 
 duct lead one to infer his nation) has no apparent motive. 
 The worthy pair freely discuss the faults of their respective 
 masters. They inform each other and the public — Ventidius, 
 that Anthony is a vain, weak pi'odigal, besotted libertine ; Dio- 
 mede, that Cleopatra is an enchantress, who subjugates the 
 world, and is the slave of her own low passions. 
 
 This dialogue gives the authoress an opportunity to bring 
 in all the scraps of historical lore the French are so fond of 
 introducing in their tragedies on ancient subjects. The man- 
 ners and customs of Egypt are brought in : the voyage of 
 INIarc Anthony from Italy to the East ; his mad prodigality, 
 that distributes the plate from his table to his flatterers, and
 
 MEMOIRS OF BACHEL. 165 
 
 rewards with the gift of a house the cook who has invented a 
 savory sauce, are narrated. Ventidius seeks to learn some 
 little peccadillo of Great Egypt, some secret, the knowledge 
 of which will give him the power of dissolving, when he 
 thinks fit, the spell it is supposed she will cast TonnA Anthony. 
 Diomede readily furnishes him with this secret power. A 
 Greek slave, a workman on the wharves, had dared to love 
 the queen, nay, to declare this love, and offer his life for one 
 hour's return from her. The queen had smiled; that smile 
 was the acceptance of his love and the seal of his doom. The 
 hour has now come, the slave must die ; a subtle poison and 
 the waters of the Nile will obliterate all remembrance of this 
 passing fancy, and the world will never learn that Cleopatra 
 could stoop so low. 
 
 Even while they tell this fearful tale of love, murder, and 
 suicide, the slave enters ; he grasps the cup in an ecstasy of 
 delirious love, too happy thai he has so cheaply purchased the 
 remembrance of such, bliss, and, after an invocation, in twelve 
 stanzas, to Death, praying he may, even amid hell's tortures, 
 .preserve his memory green, he quaffs the fatal poison, and 
 drops, to all appearance, dead. At this moment the conspir- 
 ators re-enter with a leech, who has a sovereign remedy, if 
 used in time, that will counteract the poison, and they bear 
 off the still living body to be made an instrument of when re- 
 quired. All this plot is agreed upon and carried into execu- 
 tion at the very door of the queen's apartments : neither she 
 nor her enemies take too much trouble to keep their secrets 
 from each other. 
 
 The Cleopatra of Corneille in his " Death of Pompey," the 
 Cleopatra of Shakspeare, each modeled on that of history, is 
 the woman who uses her sovereign beauty, as a conqueror 
 does his sword, to bring to her feet the masters of the world. 
 Ambition is the ruling passion : she .subjugated Pompey and 
 Ciesar, enslaved Anthony, and punished herself with death for 
 having failed to conquer Octavius. Madame dc Girardin's 
 Cleopatra is a Messalina on the pattern of Victor Hugo's 
 apocryphal Marguerite de Bourgogne, only she is something 
 baser and more degraded, but she gets rid of her low amours 
 in a similar way. The poet should resemble the bee, and
 
 166 MEMOIKS OF KACHEL. 
 
 gather from the rich stores of history whatever may be used 
 to best advantage for the benefit of mankind. He has no 
 right to leave, like some foul reptile, a slimy trail over her 
 treasures. 
 
 In the second act, the Queen of Egypt, reclining on her 
 couch in all the pomp of Eastern royalty, is surrounded by 
 her sages and scientific men. The high-priest of Hermes is 
 reading a passage from the sacred book, by which we are in- 
 ducted into the mysteries of the Egyptian cosmogony and 
 theogony. We learn that Athyr is Chaos, darkness profound, 
 the bed 'neath the waters in which the world slumbered ; that 
 Pirami is the day, the radiant spirit ; Kneph is the creator, fa- 
 ther of all the gods. Phta, his son, the god of fire, is the king 
 of thunder, and has created heaven and earth. Typhon is the 
 spirit of evil ; that of good is Osiris, the brother and divine 
 husband of the immortal Isis. Toth, the revealer, invented 
 WT-iting : Toth knows all the secrets of nature. Tmei is jus- 
 tice, Athor is beauty, and both uniting produce truth. Amethi 
 is the abyss to which souls descend, &c., &c. 
 
 The queen gives orders, resolves the different questions in« 
 abeyance in a very business-like manner, and, dismissing her 
 court, remains alone with Charmion and Iris. From her ter- 
 race she watches for the arrival of Anthony, and gives vent to 
 her passionate fondness in accents that betoken no qualms of 
 conscience for the crime she has so lately committed. That 
 heart has evidently never had room for any but one feeling, 
 and it is hard to reconcile its impatient yearnings for the 
 presence of Anthony with the slavish inclination attributed to 
 her. The speech in which she complains of the drear and 
 heavy existence she leads in that land that has no spring, no 
 autumn, no winter; where the foot feels beneath the slum- 
 bering earth its generations of motionless mummies ; where, 
 as in a land of endless murder and of endless remorse, the 
 work of the living is the embalming of the dead, and the most 
 beautiful ornaments are its tombs, is very fine. Anthony 
 comes at last, but only to take his leave. He has been told 
 the story of the slave ; but, though his jealousy and his anger 
 are excited, and give him courage to leave the queen, lie makes 
 no charge, gives no vent to his secret feelings : this is unnatural
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 1G7 
 
 and very inconsistent with the violence oi Anthony's temper. 
 He promises to return in two days ; he goes only to concert 
 with his friends in the port. While the queen is watching the 
 vessels in the port, an arrow, to which is attached a note, falls 
 her feet. The note contains advice of the real purpose of 
 Anthony, who is gone to make friends with Octavius Ccvsar 
 and to maiTy Octavia. The enraged queen will follow her 
 recreant lover, and snatch him from her rival's gi'asp ; she 
 will go in the disguise of a slave ; she will see this beauty that 
 has been Aveighed against hers and b,orne away the prize! 
 The scene m which the queen questions Diomede, who had 
 seen Octavia in Rome, as to her rival's looks, is a veiy poor 
 imitation of Shakspeare's scene between the queen and the 
 messenger who announces Anthony's marriage. 
 
 The third act opens at Tarentum, where Anthony, already 
 repentant of his new bonds, accuses Ventidms of having calum- 
 niated Cleopatra. The slave has not turned out the willing 
 tool he was intended for. When questioned by Anthony, he 
 has denied all, and, accusing Diomede of an attempt to poison 
 the queen, has ascribed his own apparent death to his having 
 drained unconsciously the poisoned cup meant for her. He 
 has been brought back to life to serve the vile purposes of his 
 treacherous savior, and that is all. The enraged triumvir 
 prepares to return to his regal love. There is a short scene 
 with his lawful lady, and one between the brother and sister ; 
 the last, another pale copy of the English poet. There fol- 
 lows a very short scene between Octavia and the new slave, 
 in which the latter remains mute. The explanation given to 
 I ^the Roman mistress is that the girl is of Athens, and speaks 
 not the language of this land. After a soliloquy of Cleopatra, 
 in which she recognizes and envies the power of virtue's 
 charms in the person of the lawful wife, vowing she too will 
 win the respect and honor mankind attributes to them ; that 
 she will cflace all traces of the past — a spectre of that past 
 arises before her affrighted eyes — the poisoned victim of the 
 first act enters. An explanation follows ; the treacherous 
 plans' of her foes are disclosed, and the queen is assured of the 
 devotion of one vigilant friend. If he has consented to live, 
 it was to watch over and render vain every attempt against
 
 168 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 her — the warning note that told of the marriage of Anthony 
 was his. This devotion seems to excite no other feeling in 
 Cleopatra than one of contemptuous surprise. To this tale 
 of devoted passion — to his exulting assertion that " C'est 
 avec volupte, que je mourrais pour toi!" she answe):s, "Poor 
 fool!" 
 
 Indeed, not a word falls from the lips of the queen during 
 five acts that justifies the story of the passing fancy, and we 
 are inclined to think 'with Anthony, "T'was a vile slander;" 
 as for the slav«, he ^as subject to strange hallucinations. 
 There are one or two very charming passages in this scene. 
 Answering CkopatrxCs fear of being forgotten by Anthony, 
 the slave says, 
 
 "Est oe toi qu'on oublie? 
 Va, tu ne connais pas la force d'un regret, 
 Ni la tenacite d'un devorant secret. 
 On pent vivTc sans pain dans des murs qu'on assiege. 
 On peat vivre sans feu dans deserts de neige, 
 On peut vivre sans eau dans le sable Africain, 
 On peut vivre sans air dans I'antre de Vulcain, 
 Mais dans cette demence ou ma tete est bercee, 
 On ne pourrait vivre un jour sans ta pensee ! 
 Un jour sans t'evoquer, .sans t'appeler vingt fois, 
 Sans cherclier a surprendre un accent de ta voix, 
 Sans aspirer I'air pur que ta bouclie respire, 
 Sans se courbcr joyeux ct tier sous ton empire, 
 O, reine, ne crains rien, il t'aime, et plus encor 
 L'avare n'a jamais dedaigne son tresor, 
 Et celui qui t'aime n'a ni repos ni treve, 
 II n'a plus qu'un espoir, il n'a plus (ju'un seul reve, 
 C'est de vivre pour toi, de te donner ses jours, 
 Et s'il soutfre, sa joie est de souffVir toujours." 
 
 '[Clcopdtre (^avec une joie triumphante). 
 *'B reviendra!" 
 
 L'Esclave. 
 "Tremblant, redemander sa chaige, 
 II t'aime, il t'aime encor, je le sens a ma haine. 
 Tu pcux me croirc, moi, son tourment est le mien ; 
 Va, lis dans mou amour Ics promesses du sien." 
 
 Clcopatre. 
 "Mais n'est ce pas sa voix? j'ai cru la reconnaitre." 
 
 L^Esclave. 
 "Esclave, cache toi, voici vcnir le maitre!"
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 169 
 
 A very short and pretty scene follows between Anthony 
 and Cleopatra. They depart together, leaving Octavta to 
 weep and exclaim, 
 
 " En vain je veixx me resigner, 
 Je donnerais tout, rang, fortune, renommee, 
 Pour le honteux bonheur d'une maitresse aimee !" 
 
 The rivals thus made to envy each other, the mistress that 
 follows the world-honored title of wife — the wife the hap- 
 piness of being beloved, even though that happiness be pur- 
 chased with shame — is very good, if not new. 
 
 In the fourth act the Battle of Actium has been fought — 
 the world has changed masters ; there are no more banquets, 
 no fetes, no Oriental sun gilding the orgies of Mars and 
 Venus: all is blank ruin and despair. "Fortune and An- 
 thonij part here — the star is fallen.' The remainder of the 
 play is a close imitation of Shakspeai*e, in all the scenes of 
 the despair and death of Anthony as well as the death of 
 Cleopatra, with the exception that the countryman who in 
 the English play brings the " pretty worm of Nilus," in Mad- 
 ame de Girardin's is the slave of the preceding acts, who, 
 jealous of his cruel mistress's honor, brings her the means to 
 mock the power of Caesar. The authoress, compelled to sup- 
 press the untranslatable beauties of Shakspeare, has endeav- 
 ored to supply their place by the introduction of a feature 
 copied from Dryden — the scolding-match between the wife 
 and the mistress. Shakspeare carefully avoided bringing the 
 rivals together : there was the danger of lowering the interest 
 in the heroine by that which the audience must take in the 
 pure wife neglected for no fault of hers. Dryden has avoided 
 this, it is true, by making Octavia so cold and unamiable a 
 character that no one cares for her, but he has done so at the 
 expense of morality. Madame de Girardin has, in the scene 
 between the mistress and the wife, made the latter more re- 
 fined by far than Dryden's, but no less cruel. "When the 
 queen and her attendants ai'e lamenting the death of the 
 great triumvir, calling him thrice in accordance with the 
 RomaiT custom, another voice suddenly echoes the despairing 
 cry, Octavia is come to claim the remains of him whose heart 
 was never hers. In the name of his country, of his sons, the 
 
 II
 
 170 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 
 
 wife claims that the victim be given up to the vengeful gods 
 of Rome. After a scene of mutual recriminations, the widow, 
 who has the advantage of belonging to the victorious party, 
 aided by her guards, bears off the body, and the mistress is 
 left to follow the soul. 
 
 Octavia was evidently the pet personage of the authoress, 
 and for her Anthony'' s worst crime is his criminal love — a 
 crime for Avhicli his subsequent misfortunes are only a just 
 expiation of the contempt he has shown for the connubial tie. 
 Every attempt has been made to render the Eoman matron 
 more interesting than her Egyptian rival, but in vain. The 
 threat of Octavia at the close, " I will live to see thee our 
 slave — to see thee chained to Octavius's conquering car — 
 " Je virrai pour te voir noti'e esclave, 
 Pour te voir attachee an char vainqueur d'CJctave" — 
 
 is mean and unfeminine. This ungenerous treatment of a 
 conquered foe, this disrespect for the fortunes of fallen royal- 
 ty, contrasts with the calm, deep grief of the queen, who bids 
 her attendants allow Octavia to enter : 
 
 "Elle Famait aussi, laissons la le pleures." 
 The queen is right when she tells her proud rival that she 
 will not follow her lord, for her grief is too noisy to kill — the 
 grief that kills is less proud : 
 
 " Va, ne te flatte pas ; toi, tu ponrras survivre, 
 Et tu pleures trop haut pour mourir de ton deuil, 
 Une douleur qui tue est moins folle d'orgeuil, 
 Tu vi\Tas." 
 
 With the exception of the introduction of one new person- 
 age — the slave, who is in himself a fine poetic creation, though 
 he debases the queen, there is nothing new in Madame de 
 Girardin's Clcopatre. The delineation of the heroine's char- 
 acter is neither strong nor spirited. The choice of a theme 
 that had been already chosen by the great master, continually 
 recalls the vivid coloring, the fiery force, the bold vigor, the 
 numerous flashes of nature contained in the astonishing mas- 
 ter-piece of that gigantic intellect, and makes the poor imita- 
 tion, by comparison, more dwarfish still. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel appeared in " Cleopatre" on the first 
 night of her rentree. Very unsuited to her stately, dignified.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 171 
 
 imperious attitude, so Greek, so antique in its severity of out- 
 line, was the character of the soft, hmguishing Egyptian, all 
 love, all voluptuous impatience, doubting in her anxiety, her 
 fretful jealousy, even the power of her charms. This lan- 
 guishing child of the East could find no fit representation in 
 Mademoiselle Kachel. When the curtain rose at the second 
 act on the Queen of Egypt, who had dressed her part superb- 
 ly, the sight was very grand, and proved the taste and care 
 with which the tableau had been got up. The costume of 
 Rachel was gorgeous in the extreme, and nothing was over- 
 done. Amid this profusion of gold-embroidered tissues, brace- 
 lets, necklaces, ear-drops, stomachers, this dazzling mass of 
 diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and pearls, the spectators' atten- 
 tion was fixed on the unsurpassed elegance, the sculptural 
 dignity of her attitudes. Reclining on this couch of Tyrian 
 purple, she listens with divided attention, for her thoughts are 
 o^ Anthony, to the precepts the high-priest reads from the un- 
 rolled papyrus. 
 
 In December Mademoiselle Rachel absented herself, on ac- 
 count, she alleged, of illness, and " Cleopatre" was stopped 
 after it had been acted but eight nights. It was bringing in 
 about 4000 francs each night. This absence from the stage 
 lasted three months. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 1848. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel and Mademoiselle Georges. — "Cleopatre and 
 Rodogune." — Influence of Revolutions on Actors.— Talma and Lais. 
 — Influence of the Revolution of 1848 on Dramatic Literature and 
 Theatricals. — Old Things new Named. — M. de Lamartine's rejection 
 of the Red Flag. — Suggestions of a Workman on Theatricals. — Be- 
 ranger on the Revolution. — A Political Tragedienne. — "La Marseil- 
 laise." — Le Peiqde of Mademoiselle Rachel in 1844 and in 1848. 
 
 This yeai', so eventful for France, was, for Mademoiselle 
 Rachel, the closing one of that period of toil and struggle 
 through which every great artist must pass to approve the 
 talent that none may dare contest — to conquer the position
 
 172 MEMOIRS OF RAcma,. 
 
 that none may venture to dispute. It was during this year, 
 too, that she committed one of the greatest mistakes in her 
 life. Not content with the high honors she had earned, with 
 the admiration of the refined, of the educated, she endeavored 
 to win popularity among a class whose approbation true genius 
 never courts. To obtain the short-lived fame that rests on 
 the ever-changing decisions of a mob, she turned her back on 
 those who had supported her throughout her career: she abjured 
 all gratitude, she threw her laurels at the feet of the populace, 
 she ministered to the angry passions of a crowd — she chanted, 
 to use the expression of her admirers, the "Marseillaise." 
 
 Illness, reported to be very serious, had been alleged by 
 Mademoiselle Rachel as a reason for not playing during the 
 first month of this year. To give new interest to her reap- 
 pearance, which was announced to take place on Friday, Feb- 
 ruary 25, in the "Cle'opatre" of Madame de Girardin, a ru- 
 mor was circulated which, had it been confirmed by the event, 
 would have done infinite honor to her heart. It was said that, 
 to beguile the tedium of a long convalescence, she had studied 
 the part oi Rodogune,m Corneille's tragedy of that name, and 
 that her first visit on her recovery had been to Mademoiselle 
 Georges. " I am come, my dear sister," said the younger to 
 the elder star, " to say I have learned Rodogune for your sake, 
 and will play it, if you will, to your Clcopdtre ; I am fully 
 convinced we shall be successful." 
 
 These were noble words; this was indeed rendering unto 
 Csesar that which was Caesar's. The circumstances of Made- 
 moiselle Georges were such at that time that could she, by 
 her reappearance in a character deemed one of her best, and 
 with the attraction of the present favorite of the public, have 
 brought full houses for a few evenings, the result would have 
 been the addition of much comfort to her declining years. But 
 the kind offer, if ever made, was, like many others of the emi- 
 nent tragedienne's, followed by no performance. Indeed, the 
 poor grace with which, in the following year, she responded 
 to a call on her services made by Mademoiselle Georges, 
 scarcely corrojjorates the report of the gratuitous offer of this. 
 
 On the 13th of March Mademoiselle Rachel made her ren- 
 tree in Camille of " Les Horaces." The tragedies of Corneille,
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 173 
 
 full of patriotic sentiments, of noble deeds, are peculiarly suit- 
 ed to periods of popular commotions. The spectators seek on 
 the stage the representation of the feelings by which they are 
 themselves actuated, and the actors, entering into the spirit of 
 the reality, communicate its life to the fiction in which they 
 act. During the first Revolution, Talma, carried away by the 
 torrent, shared its errors and its enthusiasm. He not only 
 flattered the public taste by the tragedies of " Charles IX." 
 and the "Death of Caesar," but he also carried his republican 
 manifestations into private life ; he and his friend David, the 
 celebrated painter, used to walk in the galleries of the Palais 
 Royal in the dress of Roman consuls ! 
 
 As some excuse for the eccentricities of genius, it must be 
 borne in mind that in France, and more especially in Paris, 
 the stage is so closely identified with the habits, manners, and 
 customs of ordinary life, so interested in the variations of pub- 
 lic opinion and in the great national events, that it is very 
 difficult for the actors to forbear giving way to the impres- 
 sions of the moment amid revolutionary tumults. 
 
 At certain epochs it is in the allusions the plays of the clas- 
 sic repertoire offer that public feeling seeks a vent. At others 
 — and then the government itself is the accomplice of the au- 
 dience — the popular opinions, the patriotism of the day, are 
 expressed in plays written to suit the circumstances and cal- 
 culated to excite a paroxysm of zeal. 
 
 In such cases it is not surprising that the sort of electric 
 cuiTcnt that is then established between the stage and the 
 public should reach from the latter to the former, and that the 
 actors should in their turn feel in earnest the passions of which 
 they are the interpreters, and which they are not only to ex- 
 press, but also to excite in their hearers. 
 
 Nor must it be forgotten that every thing violent, sudden, 
 out of the common line, is likely to seduce the imagination 
 of artists. The themes they are most conversant with on 
 the boards are events that overthrow empires and raise new 
 thrones on the ruins of the old. Hence it is natural that 
 those who spend tlie better part of their lives in this tragical 
 atmosphere, whose minds are constantly dwelling on the vi- 
 cissitudes of fortune, should readily fall into the wake of a
 
 174 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 real revolution, and become its interpreters, its oi'gans, more 
 especially when they are certain thereby of" increasing two- 
 fold the applause attributed to their talent. 
 
 This is the only explanation that can be found for the 
 absurd masquerade of Talma, for the illuminism of Lais, the 
 famous singer, whose exquisitely sweet and melodious voice, 
 uttering the ferociously energetic stanzas of the "Marseil- 
 laise" on the boards of the Grand Opera, caused all the au- 
 dience to fall on their knees. 
 
 The aberrations of these men had, however, a noble source ; 
 the foot of the invader was on the soil of France, and the 
 indignant land was heaving as in the throes of an earthquake. 
 Every heart was inspired, every arm was nerved, every brain 
 was fevered by the magic words gloria and patrie. No such 
 incentives existed in 1848 ; and when Eachel, whose waking 
 hours were haunted and whose sleep was troubled by the 
 wish to imitate the follies of her illustrious predecessors, at- 
 tempted to do likewise, she had the misfortune to excite hates 
 that had no object, to call down vengeance where there was 
 no motive, and to insult foes that were absent or no longer in 
 existence. Talma and Lais had before them a foreign in- 
 vasion ; Mademoiselle Rachel was in the presence of the most 
 absurd and disorganizing saturnalia that ever found a place 
 in the history of nations. 
 
 To understand the state of things with regard to theatricals 
 at that time, some explanation of the influence the Revolution 
 had on them is necessary. 
 
 In France, the people — that people that may with truth 
 be proclaimed one of the happiest and one of the most mildly 
 governed on the face of the globe — imagine, at every revolu- 
 tion, that they have at last thrown off the yoke of the most 
 frightful despotism, that they are entering on a new era of 
 happiness and of liberty ; the past was the age of iron, the 
 future is to be the age of gold. The amount of insane hopes, 
 wild delusions then entertained is beyond conception. Every 
 thing in the fallen regime was wrong, every thing in the new 
 will bo perfect. The first thing to be done is to change the 
 name of the things ; old ones are thus supposed to be regen- 
 erated,- to have changed their nature ; the Monarchy becomes
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL, 175 
 
 a Republic, the Gendarmerie is metamorphosed into the Garde 
 Urbaine or Municipale, the Sergeant de Ville is a Gardien de 
 Paris. Uniforms are turned right side out, and a vast num- 
 ber of functionaries arc dismissed. When all these wonderful 
 improvements and reforms have been effected, the groundwork 
 remains unchanged, and, if examined, will be found immov- 
 able. After the lapse of a few months, during which a great 
 deal of zeal has been displayed, and no little confusion, cost, 
 and trouble have been occasioned, all things fall back into the 
 old routine, into the gentle, calm repose of the past. 
 
 The saturnalia of 1848, for that popular tumult can not 
 be called a revolution, were, more especially than any other 
 epoch, characterized by chimerical expectations and extrava- 
 gant visions. Every institution constituting a portion of the 
 basis of society was the subject of discussion and animadver- 
 sion, and more or less shaken to its very fovmdations. " The 
 possession of property is tlieft^'' "the right to Zoior," communism, 
 socialism, workmen's association, en commandite, emancipation 
 of women, and many, many other similar follies, will witness 
 to posterity the insanity, the deliiium of that strange epoch. 
 
 The stage, that important eh ment in the life of the Pa- 
 risians, could not escape in the general catastrophe. The ef- 
 fusions in which the partisans of the Revolution threw out 
 their views of reform as applicable to theatricals are curious 
 even at this short distance of time. 
 
 The Revolution broke out, conquered, and triumphed dur- 
 ing the 24th, 25th, 2Gth, and 27th days of Februaiy. No 
 later than the 28th the government that revolution had es- 
 tablished gave its attention to the theatres of the capital — 
 it changed their names. The fact is alluded to in the follow- 
 ing glowing terms, in a theatrical bulletin of the day, by one 
 of the warmest adherents of the party in power : 
 
 "The revolutionary and patriotic enthusiasm is taking pos- 
 session of all hearts. The theatres, reopened this evening, 
 are crowded. Every where the notes of the ' Marseillaise,' 
 and those of the energetic hymn of our new revolution, ' Mou- 
 rir pour la patrie,' rejoice our ears. 
 
 " The Theatre Frantjais from this day takes the name of 
 'Theatre de la Republique.' The Opera is now the 'Theatre
 
 176 MEMOIRS OP RACHEL. 
 
 de la Nation'. ******* Patriotic plays are 
 every where rehearsing". ' 
 
 This was the state of things on the day following that on 
 which M. de Lamartine, importuned by the people at the 
 Hotel de Ville to declare the red flag the national flag, made 
 the noble reply that history will record as some extenuation 
 of his political errors : 
 
 " Citizens, for my part, never will I adopt the red flag ; and 
 I will tell you, in a few words, why I will oppose it with all 
 the strength of my patriotism. 
 
 " The reason is, citizens, that the tri-colored flag has gone 
 round the world with our liberty and our glory, and the red 
 flag has only gone round the Champs de Mars, dragged through 
 floods of the people's blood." 
 
 Here we have the extremes meeting — the arbiters of the 
 destinies of France were not so preoccupied with the perils of 
 the state but what they could attend to the most petty details 
 of the administration. The theatrical bulletin of the paper 
 already quoted had the following : 
 
 " All the theatres are reopened. Our reporter visited them 
 all in succession yesterday. The boxes were all em'pty, but all 
 the other seats were filled. The ' Mai*seillaise' was sung every 
 where." 
 
 Notwithstanding these tokens of the apparent general satis- 
 faction, the very next day (March 1st) "A Workman" thus 
 emitted Im views on the new organization to be given to the 
 theatres : 
 
 "The ci-devant royal theatres are, on account of the high 
 prices of admission, quite closed to the people. This state of 
 things must not be allowed to continue. These theatres, being 
 supported by an enormous subsidy, should, on the contrary, 
 be the most accessible to the people. These theatres are pos- 
 itively inaccessible to the people. Why should they be de- 
 prived of the pleasure a fine performance affords ? The people 
 are not exacting ; let them be allowed seats that can be ob- 
 tained without lessening their small savings. Give to the 
 people all the enjoyments of the more favored by fortune." 
 
 Criticism in black coats united with criticism in blouses; 
 one of its organs spoke as follows :
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 177 
 
 " The politic.ll events that have lately taken place have nat- 
 urally had an effect on the Theatre Fran(,ais, always so ready 
 for revolutions. It has thought, with good reason, that the 
 republican government could not oppose its constituting itself 
 into a republic. The commissary of the royal government 
 was expelled like a Tarquin, and Citizen Lockroy was pro- 
 claimed .dictator of the republic of letters in the Theatre de la 
 Kepublique. The Theatre Fran(;ais has a great and noble 
 mission to fulfill. It must rise to the height of the present 
 situation. It is no longer to offer vain and frivolous amuse- 
 ments to a nation that requires to hear, on a free stage, noble 
 and elevated language. This was the aim of those generous 
 citizens who, less fortunate than we shall be, endeavored to 
 establish the first French republic on the basis of Order and 
 Liberty. From the foot of the scaffold, Payen, appealing to 
 authors, enthusiastically exclaims, ' Ye who love arts, who in 
 the retirement of your closets meditate on what may be useful 
 to mankind, ye patriotic writers, develop your plans, weigh 
 with us the power of theatricals. The question is. How to 
 combine their social influence with the principles of govern- 
 ment? A public school must be instituted where taste and 
 virtue shall be alike respected. The committee shall be bound 
 to inquire of genius, to draw out talent, to gather the fruits 
 of their vigils, to point out to their labors the patriotic aim 
 they are to attain. The committee Avill be accountable to 
 letters, to the nation, to themselves, for the poet whose lyre 
 they neglect, for the historian to whom they furnish no tablet, 
 for the genius whose flight has not been encouraged and di- 
 rected.' " 
 
 After this quotation from Payen the feuilletonist continues: 
 " We repeat it, it is to preserve the magnificent language of 
 the masters, both ancient and modern, of our stage, to elevate 
 thought, to teach the Leart by means of sublime tableaux, to 
 perfect art in every way, that the efforts of the stage in the 
 new republic should be directed. In lieu of weak and tame 
 literary and satirical sketches, we need vigorous and energetic 
 sentiments ; every thing that enlarges the soul, every thing 
 that tends to inspire enthusiasm for that which is beautiful 
 and good." 
 
 H2
 
 178 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Such was the language of the two epochs at an interval of 
 half a century ; such are the ever-disappointed aspirations, the 
 ever-vanishing illusions of all revolutions. The result of 
 Payen's exhortations in 1792 are well known — extravagant 
 tragedies aiid monstrous dramas. 
 
 We will now examine how far and how worthily dramatic 
 literature answered the appeal of 1848. 
 
 The playbills had, during twenty-three days of the month 
 of February, been filled with the announcement of an insig- 
 nificant comedy of jM. Scribe's, called " Le Puff." 
 
 The day after this regenerating revolution, this same "Puff" 
 and " Le Chateau de Cartes" are again on the playbills. A 
 little later the literature of the new era makes its appearance, 
 and we have " Le Dernier des Kermor," certainly one of the 
 last pieces that ought to have been performed under any re- 
 gime whatsoever. Next in order came "Le Eoi Attend!" an 
 interlude so void of meaning and of talent that we can not 
 but be surprised it was ever permitted to see the light. It 
 was plain that such productions would not fulfill the flowery 
 programme that had offered to "elevate thought, to move the 
 heart by sublime tableaux." It was found necessary to have 
 recourse again to old Corneille, and Mademoiselle Eachel 
 came out in "Les Horaces." She acted Camille with an 
 energj-, a passion such as perhaps she had never before dis- 
 played. 
 
 It would have been well had she contented herself -oath re- 
 peating the noble Alexandrines of the great poet; no one 
 thought of requiring more of her. But she too had been 
 bitten by the revolutionary demon. The first occasion on 
 which she exhibited symptoms of the disease we relate on the 
 authority of a rather indiscreet modern muse, who gives it in 
 a volume she has recently published, containing forty-five let- 
 ters addressed to her by an immortal bard. We can well 
 imagine that such a correspondence is one to be proud of, yet 
 more delicacy and good taste would have advised less haste, 
 and censured the bringing it before the jjublic almost simul- 
 taneously with the invitations to the funeral of the illustrious 
 writer. 
 
 At the time of the Revolution of the 24th of Feburary
 
 MEMOIKS OK RACHEL. 170 
 
 Mademoiselle Racliol resided near the Porte Maillot. To 
 enter Paris, she was obliged to make her way through armed 
 groups, who endeavored to keep their zeal at boiling pitch by 
 singing the epidemical " Marseillaise." The contagion com- 
 municated itself to Mademoiselle Kachel, who was going into 
 Paris with Mademoiselle Louise Collet. She commenced 
 singing in the carriage, giving the hymn wdth the same in- 
 tonation with which she afterward brought it out on the 
 stage. " One felt in the air," said Mademoiselle Louise Col- 
 let, when she related the incident to Bcranger, " like a mighty 
 breath of hope that bore along with it all youthful hearts." 
 
 "I greatly fear," replied Bcranger, who was no longer 
 young, and who had as much good sense as genius, " I great- 
 ly fear we have been made to tumble down the stairs we 
 should have walked down." 
 
 Notwithstanding the threatening aspect of the horizon, the 
 rentrce of Mademoiselle Rachel was not without eclat; she had 
 learned a new role, and made her debut as a political trage- 
 dienne. Having laid aside the peplum of Camille, she appeared 
 between the acts attired in a long and very full white muslin 
 dress. She wore no ornament in her dark hair ; in her right 
 hand she held the tri-colored flag. Never had her features, 
 well suited and accustomed as they Avere to a tragic look, 
 worn so terrible an expression as they did at that moment. 
 As she came on toward the foot-lights with a slow, majestic 
 tread, an undefined sensation of fear thrilled the audience, 
 even before she had uttered a word. The countenance was 
 of a livid hue ; the eyebrows, swerving from their finely-drawn 
 lines, wreathed like small serpents over the dark eye, glowing 
 in its blood-red orbit with a strange, wild fire, telling a bitter 
 tale of past wrong and of present revolt, of long-cherished, un- 
 quenchable hatred, of fierce, pitiless revenge ; the lips were 
 pregnant with unuttered maledictions ; the nostrils, passion- 
 ately dilated, seemed, like those of the war-horse, to scent 
 from afar the carnage of the battle-field. The whole figure, 
 in its terrific grace, its sinister beauty, was a magnificent rep- 
 resentation of the implacable Nemesis of antiquity, and struck 
 every heart with terror and admiration. 
 
 Eaising her arm with a motion which, throwing back the
 
 180 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 wide sleeve, left it bare to the shoulder, she commenced the 
 
 liymn 
 
 "Aliens enfants de la patrie." 
 
 She did not sing, she did not declaim, she uttered it somewhat 
 after the fashion of the ancient melopoeia, something between 
 a chant and a recitation, to which her tones, at times sharp 
 and harsh, at others hard and metallic, and then again deep 
 and cavernous, like distant thunder, gave extraordinary eiFect. 
 Her attitudes, her gestures, the motions of her head, all ex- 
 pressed admirably the sense of each stanza. The brow, at 
 one moment bowed with shame and grief at the recollection 
 of the woes and miseries she spoke, at another proudly raised 
 as though it had just thrown off the yoke of the oppressor, the 
 foot spurning the enslaved earth, the nerves quivering beneath 
 the intensity of fixed resolution, all betrayed a deadly thirst 
 for vengeance. As n. finale to this splendid piece of mummery, 
 the inimitable artist, apparently overcome by her patriotic 
 feelings, sank on her knees, clasping to her heart the banner, 
 the folds of which fell around her statuesque figure in the most 
 picturesque manner ; then rising abruptly, she waved the flag 
 with the cry of " Aux armes, citoyens ! &c.," to which the 
 spectators, nearly crazed with excitement, responded with the 
 most prolonged and deafening applause. 
 
 ■ A feuilletonist remarked very justly that the gratis audience 
 Avith which the provisional government had filled the house 
 preferred one stanza of Eouget de L'Isle to all Corneille and 
 Eacine, with M. Ponsard thrown in as a makeweight. 
 
 This heartfelt, improinptu enthusiasm was as carefully studied 
 and rehearsed as any of Mademoiselle Rachel's other charac- 
 ters. A poetess of no little celebrity, who had the curiosity 
 to go and see the tragedienne behind the scenes, found her 
 standing, banner in hand, awaiting the signal to go on the 
 stage. Madame Waldor described her as looking coldly ex- 
 cited. The words express exactly the preparatory ivorking up 
 she W£\s going through. 
 
 As far as regarded taere art — the art of the statuary — the 
 porformance was perfection ; in a moral sense, nothing could 
 be in worse taste than this appeal to the angry passions of an 
 ignorant and excitable multitude. It was not Mademoiselle
 
 5IEM0IRS OF RACHEL. 181 
 
 Eachel's fault if her public was less ferocious than that of 
 1792. She did her part toward rousing it. But, whatever 
 their errors, the revolutionists of 1848, notwithstanding silly 
 as well as criminal incitations, were guiltless of shedding one 
 drop of blood. 
 
 How the most magnificent productions of the human mind 
 may be perverted to idle uses, defiled and dcgi-aded by being 
 brought forward out of place and out of season, has been re- 
 peatedly proved by the senseless manner in which that grand 
 hymn, the " Marseillaise," has been prostituted and made the 
 herald of mirrder, arson, and pillage, the purveyor of the 
 headsman, the incentive to every crime the mind of man can 
 conceive, the arm of man can perpetrate. It is ditficult to 
 understand by what connection of ideas people are induced to 
 bellow forth a frantic call for the "Marseillaise" in a place 
 of public amusement. Those who were assembled in the 
 house when this sad farce was acted had met after the day's 
 toil of mind or body to rest from the cares of life for a few 
 hours ; they sought calm and repose ; evil thoughts slumbei'- 
 ed, and the noble lessons of magnanimity, honor, and valor of 
 a Corneille could not fail to awaken corresponding feelings in 
 the hearers. ' "What urgent motive could tempt any reasoning 
 creature to interrupt those quiet rational pleasures, to evoke 
 reminiscences of bloody scaffolds and exterminating civil wars ? 
 This fatal poem recalled, it is true, some of the victories of 
 France, but it had been also the de profundis of thousands of 
 the noblest and wisest of her children. 
 
 Jules Janin, who had the good sense and the courage to 
 raise his voice against this unhallowed scene, wrote an elo- 
 quent article on its mischievous tendencies. "What, indeed, 
 has the dread cry of ' To arms !' to do with peaceable citizens t 
 Where was the danger ? AYhat frontier was attacked ? What 
 enemy was to be expelled ? Whose impure blood was to be 
 shed ? Wherefore this sudden cry of mad dog ? Alas ! the 
 idiots whose breath raises this devastating storm, who howl 
 forth this war-cry of Cain, have not the slightest idea of its 
 import. They know not that they VNneld at random a double- 
 bladed weapon — one steel, the salutary instrument that cures 
 an evil, the other the poisoned tool that creates a worse one.
 
 182 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Not for these poor fools and dupes, or for the monsters who 
 degraded it to their own purposes, was this funaticizing hymn 
 written ; not for these, but for men who sang it bare-headed, 
 with faith-inspired voices, on theu' march to their threatened 
 frontiers. Certes, the thing was worth some reflection, seeing 
 that it had overturned altars, overthrown dynasties, depopu- 
 lated whole provinces. Serious men, whose hearts retain 
 some fear of God, some love for humanity, will meditate long 
 before they shout this exterminating cry ; and, above all, they 
 will choose some more fitting place for its anathematizing 
 burden than the temple of pleasure. They will remember 
 that to this very tune, valiant men, helpless mothers and 
 daughters, innocent babes, were marched to the guillotine, 
 butchered like sheep in the shambles, huri'ied into eternity by 
 fire, water, and the sword. Among that very audience that 
 gazed admiringly on her who gave such life to its spirit of dis- 
 cord, few reflected that almost every family there had had one 
 or more of its members offered up as a victim to satiate the 
 sanguinaiy feelings its revolutionary chorus awakened. 
 
 " All hail, all homage, all respect, all love to the ' Marseil- 
 laise' marching to the battle-field, shoeless, ill clothed, ill fed, 
 ill armed, unpaid, leveling the snow-clad Alps, treading deeper 
 into earth the dust of the Ccesars, crossing the astonished and 
 conquered Ehine, and winning ^e well-contested fields of 
 Austerlitz and Marengo ! 
 
 "But to the 'Marseillaise' of the club, the pot-house, the 
 carre/ours, and the barricades : to the ' Marseillaise' that in- 
 stigates the midnight assassin and the cowardly worker of in- 
 fernal machines ; to the ' Marseillaise' of the revolutionary tri- 
 bunal, that drags to the guillotine, that lays waste vast dis- 
 tricts, that depopulates towns whose walls crumble at its 
 sounds as at that of the trumpet of the destroying angel, to 
 this hell-born beldame, the anathema of nations ! Let us hope 
 her notes may be effaced from the memory of men, and espe- 
 cially of Frenchmen." 
 
 That these considerations should have had any weight on 
 the cosmopolitan Jewess, whose country was that which paid 
 her best, whose feelings of humanity or of gratitude weighed 
 as naught against the all-sovereign shekel, was not to be ex-
 
 MEMOIRS OF UACHEL. 183 
 
 pected. And yet it is probable that she erred from ignorance. 
 Accustomed to make every thing subservient to the love of 
 money, she did not pause to think wliat evils might arise from 
 the means she used. She forgot, perhaps, that she was rais- 
 ing this flag against her best friends. She foi-got, too, that 
 the time was not far gone by when Jules Janin recalled her 
 to a sense of the respect due to that very " people" she was 
 cringing to so obsequiously, and advised her, when in the part 
 o^ Berenice she spoke of the "people," especially as the words 
 were there meant to designate the Roman nation, not to utter 
 them with the scorn and contempt she did. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 1848. 
 
 Decree of the Citizen Minister Lcdru 11011111. — " Lucrfece." — Nemesis 
 wearing the Insignia of a C'ommissaire de Police. — Grand National 
 Performance. — The Blouse triumphant.-- "Les Horaces." — "Le 
 Malade Imaginaire." — "La Marseillaise."— Bonqnet Monstre. — A 
 Sovereign more dcsjiotic than the last. — Second Grand National Per- 
 formance. — Honorable Testimonial to Mademoiselle Rachel.— En- 
 thusiasm at a low Ebb. — Grand Fetes and no Bread.— Theatricals 
 under Louis Philippe and under the Provisional Government. — 
 Death of Vemet. — Mademoiselle Rachel in two Characters of the 
 same Play. • 
 
 In the mean while, the claim put forth by " A Workman" 
 for a few cheap seats for the people in the ci-devant royal the- 
 atres had set the wits of Citoyen Ledru RoUin to work, and 
 the result was the following decree published by that too fa- 
 mous minister : 
 
 "The Minister op the Interior. — Inasmuch as the state 
 is bound to furnish such labor to the people as shall enable 
 them to earn a living, it is also bound to encourage all efforts 
 tending to make them participators of the moral enjoyments 
 that elevate the soul. Inasmuch as the performance of the 
 master-pieces of the French stage can not but develop worthy 
 and noble feelings, on the offer made by Citizen Lockroy, 
 commissary of the government at the Theatre de la Repub- 
 lique, on the report of the Diiector of tlie Fine Arts,
 
 184 imemoirs of rachel. 
 
 Decrees : 
 
 " The commissary of the government at the Theatre de la 
 Republique is authorized to give national performances at short 
 intervals. 
 
 " Said performances to consist of works of the best French 
 dramatic authors, acted by the elite of the actors of that thea- 
 tre. Between the acts national airs will be played. 
 
 " All the seats in the house will be numbered, and each seat 
 have a corresponding ticket. 
 
 " Said tickets will be distributed to the twelve municipali- 
 ties of Paris, to the Hotel de Ville, and to the Prefecture of 
 Police, and thence to the clubs, schools, factories, aud poorer 
 citizens, who will obtain them by drawing for them. 
 
 " Signed, Ledku Eollest. 
 
 "Paris, March 24, 1848." 
 
 Pride, the sin of the fallen ange.l, betrays itself, strange to 
 say, more openly in France during periods of revolution than 
 at any other time. Each profession, each trade, each calling, 
 believes itself specially appointed to take an active part, and 
 is convinced of its superior importance in the guidance of the 
 destinies of the nation. 
 
 " Our mission is taking a wider range," exclaimed M. Hip- 
 polyte Lucas, the critic of " La Siecle ;" " it rises to the height 
 of a public function. Henceforward there will weigh upon 
 us a responsibility to be exercised, not, as that of the censor- 
 ship, in secret, but in public, before the eyes of alT. Criticism 
 has become a witty and skeptical amusement. For this it can 
 not be blamed, all its efforts to be aught else having proved 
 useless. The moment has arrived when every thing defective 
 in the organization and tendency of the stage must be attacked 
 without mercy. We shall not be found wanting in this hon- 
 oi'able duty. We shall not devote ourselves merely to the 
 preservation of the sacred rules of language and of taste ; we 
 ai"e also bound to hasten eveiy possible reform on which de- 
 pends the future of literatui'e and public education through 
 the teachings of the drama." 
 
 It was rather strange that this sapient critic had not thought 
 of putting all these excellent theories in practice under a gov-
 
 MEMOIRS OF nACHEL. 185 
 
 ernment that had, perhaps too imprudently, left to the press 
 the most unbounded liberty. It would seem that a revolution 
 was necessary to make him understand his mission. 
 
 This was the second time that dramatic literature had been 
 put to a revolutionary test. Criticism and the drama have 
 remained what they were previous to these cataclysms. The 
 world is upset to prove the emptiness and incapacity of all 
 these brainless innovators, the vanity of their illusions, the 
 chimerical nature of their pi'etensions. 
 
 Not one new work of note was brought out on the French 
 stage during this new regime. " L'Avanturiere," by Emilie 
 Augier, had been written and received previous to the month of 
 February, and had, besides, no revolutionary idea attached to 
 it. The only thing accomplished was the transplantation of 
 M. Ponsard's " Lucrece" from the Odeon to the Eue de Riche- 
 lieu. M. Ponsard's tragedy had been originally intended for 
 the Theatre Franfjais, but in consequence of the refusal of 
 messieurs the players in ordinary to his majesty, had been 
 brought out at the Odeon. This refusal had been stigmatized 
 as an act of heinous injustice : it was simply an error of taste. 
 
 " Lucrece" was acted at the Theatre Fran^ais, alias de la 
 Republique, on the 24th of March, and Mademoiselle Rachel 
 obtained, as the heroine, great applause. Her calm, quiet 
 dignity was peculiarly well suited to the character of the fair 
 young Roman matron. The vehemence, the passion with 
 which it was acted by Madame Dorval, who had ci'cated the 
 role at the Odeon, had disappeared ; but, if Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel's acting was colder, it was more correct, more classically 
 tragic than that of the famous melo-dramatic actress. 
 
 The applause INIademoiselle Rachel elicited in " Lucrece" 
 was pci-haps no less due to the allusions the play contained 
 than to her talent. She produced, however, a great sensation 
 in the seemingly insignificant line of the dream, 
 
 " J'cssayais dc bouger et je ne pouvais pas." 
 The other passages of the play that could be interpreted as 
 allusive to actual circumstances were received with tremen- 
 dous applause. The lines 
 
 " C'est peu de songer a detruire, 
 Si Ton no songe encor comme on veut reconstruii'e, "
 
 186 MEMOIRS or RACHEL. 
 
 were twice called for, and greeted with four rounds. The 
 
 lines 
 
 " Valfere si mon voeu doit prevaloir ni moi. 
 Ni personne jamais ne se nommera roi," 
 
 met with the same tokens of approbation. 
 
 The theme of this tragedy is based on Livy's narrative. 
 Those who like political discussions dramatized have their 
 taste fully gratified in the second act. There is very little 
 dialogue ; the speeches are too long to admit of more. All 
 the dramatis personce have a great deal to say, and take up a 
 long while each whenever they get a chance. Brutus, espe- 
 cially, is a great talker. The play should end where Brutus, 
 Bollatinus, and Lucretius kneel and invoke thrice the name of 
 Lucrcce. 
 
 The real tragedy of the evening was "La Marseillaise," 
 into which Mademoiselle Rachel, no longer content with the 
 tri-colored flag, had introduced a new element. Nemesis had 
 bound round her waist the tri-colored sash of a Commissary 
 of Police in the exercise of his functions. Her patriotism was 
 constantly on the alert for new ways of displaying itself 
 
 '• A portion of the members of the provisional government 
 witnessed this performance," remarks M. Hippolyte Lucas ; 
 " we have already noticed several times, with pleasure, the 
 presence in this theatre of the citizens who have assumed the 
 responsibility of the state's great interests. This augurs well 
 for the destinies of the stage, which are linked, more than is 
 genei-ally supposed, with those of the state. Three national 
 performances are announced. Let now such authors as can 
 make the heart of the nation vibrate come forward, and we 
 shall indeed have magnificent performances. Paris will be 
 quite the Athens of modern civilization. It is said that the 
 great name of George Sand will consecrate the first of these 
 performances." 
 
 We shall now see v.'hat became of this fine programme, and 
 how far it realized its pompous announcements. 
 
 The popular and gratuitous performances claimed by "A 
 Workman" and decreed by Citizen Ledru Rollin took place. 
 The first, given under the name of " Premiere ReprJsentation 
 Njvtionale," was described by the same M. Hippolyte Lucas 
 who had been one of its promoters :
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 187 
 
 " With tlie exception of a part of the orchestra reserved for 
 the members of the provisional government and for the press, 
 all the seats were occupied by — I will not say the people, for 
 we are all of the people — but by that happy crowd whose 
 means do not usually permit of their enjoying so choice a treat. 
 The triumphant blouse leaned on the front of the halcon ; the 
 caps of Rigolette and of Jenny L'Ouvriere reigned in the once- 
 privileged boxes ; and the Gamin do Paris, who had neglect- 
 ed, and with good reason, going to the printing-office with M. 
 Paul de Kock's proof-sheets, in order to hear George Sand's 
 prologue of ' Le Roi Attend !' handed his cap through the 
 ranks of the spectators for the reception of popular donations 
 to be invested in the purchase of a monster bouquet to be pre- 
 sented to JNIademoiselle Rachel after the ' Marseillaise.' 
 
 " The spectators behaved as the Pai'isian people usually do 
 at free performances. They were remarkably quiet, and 
 proved themselves possessed of admirable instinct to under- 
 stand all the allusions, of rare aptitude of heart and intellect 
 to note and appreciate all the poet's beauties." 
 
 " Le Roi Attend !" was a species of imitation of Moliere's 
 "Impromptu de Versailles." Moliere had been busily en- 
 gaged in the preparation of one of the improvised pieces some- 
 times asked for by Louis XIV. Worn out with fatigue, 
 vexed by the ingratitude of the actors, who pretended they 
 could not play a thing they had never learned, annoyed by the 
 messengers who were constantly sent to hurry him, the great 
 poet dropped asleep on the unfinished page. During his sleep 
 the background of the stage filled with clouds, which, parting, 
 disclosed, surrounded by a halo, and grouped around the Muse, 
 represented by Mademoiselle Rachel, ^Tlschylus, Sophocles, 
 Euripides, symbolizing the poetry of the ancients ; Shakspeare, 
 Voltaire, and Beauraarchais, representatives of the modem 
 world. These personages, both retrospective and prospective, 
 for they represented to ]Moliere the past and the future, sus- 
 tained and encouraged him. They related to the sleeping 
 poet the influence they have had on the human mind ; that 
 which he himself, Voltaire, and Beaumarchais would have. 
 They told him dramatic poets prepared the freedom of na- 
 tions ; they sowed the seeds of revolutions reaped by the peo-
 
 188 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 pie. After these philosophical lessons the clouds closed, the 
 vision disappeared, and the sleeping poet was awakened by 
 his faithful servant, who told him the king was waiting. Mo- 
 liere exclaimed, " What ! are there yet kings'?" 
 
 The whole prologue was written to bring in this sentence, 
 which contained all the wit of the piece. 
 
 This time, howevei", the king who waited wore no regal 
 mantle or flowing wig; it was the more powerful people of 
 1848 whose sovereignty was acknowledged and whose protec- 
 tion is implored for the Theatre de la Republique by the ob- 
 sequious poet. 
 
 This poor piece of flattery, which did little credit to the 
 name of the author, scarcely survived the evening. It was 
 followed by " Les Horaces ;" a new song, " La Jeune Repub- 
 lique," composed by Madame Pauline Viardot, and sung by 
 Roger of the Opera ; " Le Malade Imaginaire," by Moliere ; 
 and " La Marseillaise," chanted by Mademoiselle Rachel, the 
 burden being taken up and repeated by fifty of the pupils of 
 the Conservatoire, dressed in white muslin, and wearing the 
 indispensable ti'i-colored sash. An accompaniment of tocsin, 
 drums, cannon, and waving of banners came in with the last 
 stanza, and quite delighted the audience, who encored the noisy 
 patriotism most enthusiastically. 
 
 The evening was concluded with the presentation of the 
 Brobdignagian bouquet. This national offering was made in 
 the name of the people to Mademoiselle Rachel by the afore- 
 said Gamin de Paris, who climbed over the foot-lights for the 
 purpose. Loud applause greeted this ovation, and a second 
 collection was made for the poor, in order to show that the 
 tax "to which the latter are entitled on ordinary nights was 
 not forgotten on free ones. 
 
 No cost, no flattery, no trouble was spared to please the 
 people. The greatest artists were brought together, and in- 
 vention was tasked to diversify the amusements offered to 
 them. How far all these efforts were attended with success 
 was shown no later than on the second of the free nights. Li 
 order to avoid offending the pride of the many-headed sover- 
 eign, far more arbitrary and exacting than the one lately de- 
 l)0sed, the performances were not called free, but national.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 189 
 
 The second of these repiiisentations nationales took place on 
 the 21st of April. The result contrasted greatly with that 
 of the first one. Time was speeding on, and bringing with it 
 the consequences of the follies committed. The people began 
 to reflect : their leaders gave them circences, but without the 
 j}anem they had little inclination to enjoy them. Enthusiasm 
 had until then been the order of the day, but enthusiasm is 
 incompatible with hunger, and it was now at a low ebb. We 
 will leave the partisans of le peuple to narrate the festive scene. 
 Symptoms of dissatisfaction are evident in the preamble of 
 this apologist of the new state of things, for he begins by ani- 
 madverting on the new name given to the house. 
 
 "We have witnessed the second free performance at the 
 Theatre de la Republique. And wherefore Theatre de la 
 Republique ? Was this flattery to the new fonn of govern- 
 ment that rules us very necessary? It seems to us there was 
 nothing monarchical in the fair name of Theatre Fran^ais. 
 Known throughout the world, illustrated by so many real 
 geniuses, by so many celebrated interpreters, it was almost 
 ingratitude on the part of the players to despoil it of this 
 great title. Well, what is done can not be helped, and so 
 now for the Theatre de la Re'publique. 
 
 " The night before last was one of free performance. Mr. 
 Lockroy, the new manager, and the Minister of the Interior 
 have combined to invite the people ever}' fortnight to occupy 
 the best seats, and see the works of the masters of the drama 
 acted by the former players in ordinaiy to the king. We had 
 expected to find the house filled from top to bottom, the boxes 
 adorned with happy faces full of astonishment at finding them- 
 selves there ; we thought to have been elbowed in the lobby 
 by the House and the bourgerou, to have heard loud, hearty 
 peals of laughter, or frank, noisy, unstinted applause at the 
 pathetic parts of the performance. We found nothing of all 
 this. In the first place, the house was almost empty ; the first 
 two rows of orchestra seats were filled with the Enfants de 
 Paris; on all the others were members of the provisional gov- 
 ernment, the chief functionaries, a number of the ofiicers of 
 the Garde Urbaine, and five or six members of the press ; the 
 boxes were partly occupied by inferior functionaries ; .scatter-
 
 190 JIE5I0IRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 ed here and there were a few workmen ; in a word, the house 
 had all the appearance of that of the Porte St. Martin on or- 
 dinary occasions. The chill aspect communicated itself to 
 the boards ; the performance of ' Phedre' was weak, heavy, 
 and monotonous. The voices of the Enfants de Paris and the 
 ' Marseillaise' had all the honors of the evening." 
 
 With reference to the latter portion of the entertainment 
 the critic continued : 
 
 " We lack words to express what we feel. It is not a 
 woman, it is not an artiste that we see, it is a goddess of an- 
 tiquity, solemn, grave, austere, illuminated by flaming I'ays, 
 who, from the depths of her cave, comes forth to fill our souls 
 with anger, hatred, and revenge. When Mademoiselle Rachel 
 utters the revolutionary hymn, we turn hot and cold by turns, 
 the blood rushes to the heart, the arteries throb, the eye quails 
 before the fixed look of the pythoness, and we have not even 
 the power of motion to express all the admiration this impos- 
 ing and sublime sight inspires." 
 
 The symptoms of discouragement were too evident to be 
 denied. Notwithstanding all these puffs to fill the house, it 
 had remained empty ; notwithstanding all the revolutionary 
 convulsions of Mademoiselle Rachel, the few spectators had 
 remained frigid. Yet the tragedienne made superhuman ef- 
 forts to fill the treasury and avert the ruin that was impend- 
 ing. Her civism had its source in the anxious wish to sustain 
 the house whose ruin was sure to impoverish her own coffers, 
 and this motive was sufficient to call out all her energy ; she 
 played without cessation and with indefatigable zeal all the 
 plays of her r^epertoire in succession. While half the theatres 
 were compelled to close and the others were on the verge of ruin, 
 her exertions Avere mainly instrumental in supporting the 
 house of the Rue de Richelieu for some little time, and were 
 acknowledged by the societaires in the following letter : 
 
 "Dear Camarade, — You have double reason to feel proud 
 and happy. Never has your success been so brilliant, never 
 has it been so useful to the interests of our company. You 
 have struggled for us with indefatigable devotion against the 
 difficult circumstances which for the past two months have
 
 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 191 
 
 afflicted all artists. You have maintained the Theatre de la 
 Re'publique in a more prosperous state than any other has 
 attained. 
 
 " We arc proud to see in this, dear camarade, not so much 
 the accomplishment of a duty as a proof of real sistefly friend- 
 ship. Actept in return the unanimous thanks of your friends 
 and brothers. They hope this letter, signed by them all, will 
 remain to you one of the most precious monuments of your 
 dramatic career ; for if it is noble and praiseworthy to obtain 
 triumphs as brilliant as yours, it is no less flattering to have 
 deserved the affection and gratitude of all one's comrades. 
 
 " The artists' societaires of Theatre de la Republique." 
 
 Here followed all the signatures. 
 
 Alas! this amity and concoi'd was to be of short duration : 
 the ckere camarade was soon to do battle as steadily against 
 these dearly-beloved brothers and sisters as ever she had for 
 them ; to renounce the demigods of her youth, to turn her 
 back on the temple, to abjure even the "Marseillaise." 
 
 But we will not anticipate those sad times ; the present 
 were quite bad enough. Even Mademoiselle Rachel and the 
 " Marseillaise" were unable to make head long against the 
 adverse wind then blowing. If the house was empty on free 
 nights with extra performances, Avhat could be expected on 
 ordinary occasions when admittance was to be paid. The 
 Grand Opera itself was even less attended than the theatres. 
 Forsaken by the managers, Mirecourt and A. Adam, when it 
 took the name of The'atre de la Nation, it had formed itself 
 into a company in imitation of the The'atre Fran^ais ; but, 
 notwithstanding this compliment to the nation, the latter — at 
 least that portion of it that inhabited Paris — had its time too 
 much taken up every night by the seventy-four political clubs 
 it attended to have any to spare for theatricals. The Opera 
 had less chance than the drama, lyrical master-pieces offering 
 no food to the political passions of the crowd. 
 
 On the loth of May, Monsieur Charles de INIatharcl, the 
 editor of " Le Siecle," who saw things with less enthusiastic 
 eyes than M. Hippolyte Lucas, expressed himself as follows: 
 
 " We have said, and all our confreres with us, that it was
 
 192 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 necessary something should be done for the theatres ; that 
 they were in such a state of crisis that, should government 
 not come promptly to the rescue, they would inevitably be 
 compelled to close. Our forebodings have, alas ! been real- 
 ized ; several houses have already been closed, others are pre- 
 paring to do likewise, and, with the exception of one or two 
 that are maintained by a subsidy, Paris will not have a single 
 theatre!" 
 
 To this point, in the space of two months and a half, had 
 the Republic of the 24th of February brought dramatic art. 
 The provisional government had other work on its hands than 
 to attend to the requirements of the stage. It had now no 
 time to share the amusements of the triumphant blouse, to 
 sit between the caps of Rigolette and Jenny L'Ouvriere. 
 Nor did the governed fail to taunt their chosen government 
 with the disheartening prospect. 
 
 " The existence of a hundred thousand persons is of so lit- 
 tle importance ! Artists, men busy with literary and dramatic 
 works, are of so little consequence, it matters little what be- 
 comes of them ! Truly, those who govern have something 
 else to do than to trouble themselves about such people ! 
 Besides, artists have no pickaxes, spades, and shovels; they 
 do not go down into the street in warlike array, with flags 
 and drums ; they do not talk loudly ; they make no threats, 
 neither do they obtain any thing, and presently they and their 
 families, and all the little trades and callings, artistic, literary, 
 and dramatic, that ai^e more or less dependent on the theatres 
 for means to earn their bread, must starve. 
 
 " The result of all this is that the Republic gets few beni- 
 sons among artists." 
 
 After all these lamentations and recriminations, it became 
 necessary to beg assistance. Five hundred francs per evening 
 was asked for each theatre. It was proposed that, in requital, 
 tickets to that amount should be sent to the mairies, to be dis- 
 tributed gratuitously. To this was to be added a free per- 
 formance once a week. It was not boi'ne in mind that on the 
 21st of the preceding month, the innovator, Lockroy, aided 
 by the Minister of the Interior, had failed to attract an aud- 
 ience, thougli the entertainment consisted of Mademoiselle
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 193 
 
 Rachel in " Phedre" and "La Marseillaise," with the provis- 
 ional government to boot. 
 
 A month later, on the 18th of June, matters were still in a 
 deplorable state, and this was made more apparent by the pub- 
 lication of the receipts of this year, compared with those of 
 the preceding one, when the people lived under a monarchy, 
 the destruction of which was to bring about such happy 
 changes. 
 
 Tlie following table shows the receipts of the first three 
 months of each year in seven theatres : 
 
 13i7. 1S43. 
 
 Varictes 22S,4.">5.25 133,906.50 
 
 Gymnase 218,oG2.uO 103,191.70 
 
 Montansier 222,218.20 118,195.65 
 
 Porte St. Martin 199,146.25 122,33-1.65 
 
 Folies Dramatiques 107,29-1.40 096,918.70 
 
 Delassements Coiniqucs 37,688.70 22,331.85 
 
 Funambules 2r),735 7,751.90 
 
 Francs 1,039,100.30 604,693.95 
 
 The above shows a falling off of nearly fifty per cent, in 
 1848. 
 
 It is worthy of notice that government securities depreciated 
 in nearly the same ratio, as may be seen by the following 
 quotations : 
 
 On the 19th of February, 1848, the 5 per cents, were at 
 llGy,^ francs, and on the loth of June at G-S francs. 
 
 On the 19th of February, 1848, the 3 per cents, were at 
 74^°y- francs, and on the loth of June at 46 francs. 
 
 The stage lost at this time one of whom it had reason to 
 be proud, the comic actor Vernet. The memory of this ex- 
 cellent actor and worthy man, whose reputation and talent 
 were far above the vulgar and obscure theatre that he illus- 
 trated by his numerous and varied creations, was not honored 
 by a single tribute of homage or of kind remembrance. Not 
 one of the authors who were indebted to him for fame or 
 wealth found a word to say over the grave of the proud and 
 witty Plre cle la debutante, of the lover of Madame dEgmont, 
 of the grotesque representative of Madame Gibon, of Mathlas 
 rinvalide, and of so many other original and charming types. 
 It is true that Vernet did not pertain to that class of artists 
 
 I
 
 194 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 who make use of their talents to evoke popular passions, to 
 provoke the effusion of blood, to excite fratricidal hates, to 
 brave absent foes. At an epoch very anterior, and during 
 the effervescence of a former revolution, Vernet was called 
 upon to give the sanguinary hymn of "Eouget de I'lsle." He 
 answered the request neither by singing, chanting, or reciting 
 'it. He gave proof on this occasion of the ready wit and good 
 sense that characterized his honest and peace-loving soul. It 
 was in the year 1830, a vaudeville, entitled "Le Mendiant," 
 was acting at the Yarietes, and Vernet had the j^art of the 
 beggar fiddler. At that passage where he asks his friend 
 what he shall play to him, a voice from the pit cried " La 
 Marseillaise!" to which a large proportion of the audience 
 thundered " No !" To avert the impending disturbance, 
 Vernet immediately commenced playing the well-known old 
 air of " J'ai du bon tabac." 
 
 In the month of May Mademoiselle Eachel tried another 
 scheme to attract the public. She had remarked that in M. 
 Ponsard's tragedy the two chief female characters, Lucrcce 
 and Tallie, never come on the stage in the same scene. This 
 suggested the idea of playing both parts the same evening. 
 The experiment M'as tried on the boards of the Italian Opera 
 House on the occasion of a benefit obtained by her sister 
 Sarah, and proved a complete failure. Notwithstanding the 
 difference of costume, the result was a confusion in the minds 
 of the spectators that quite marred the effect. Mademoiselle 
 Rachefs features did not possess the mobility of expression 
 iadispensable for such a task. Half the time the audience 
 were at a loss to know whether it was Lucrcce or Tullie that 
 was speaking. 
 
 It was not the first time that, in order to draw full houses, 
 the dignity of tragedy had been lowered by the use of these 
 clap-trap disguises. But the experiment rarely meets with 
 any success. Comedies, written expressly for the purpose, 
 such as. " Frosine, ou la Derniere Venue," "Les Jumeaux 
 Venitiens," and others, have been tolerated, but tragedy will 
 not bear these Carnival tricks. 
 
 After this season of unusually active service, Mademoiselle 
 Rachel took her customary leave of absence.
 
 JfEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 195 
 
 ^ CHAPTEIi XX. 
 
 lSi8. 
 
 Three Months in the South of France. — Rachel a licensed Propagand- 
 ist. — Visit to Madame Lafarge. — A public Confession. — A hard- 
 hearted Father. — Return to Paris. — Sketch of the Organization of 
 the Theatre Fran^ais. — The Priestess turns her back on the Temple. 
 — A Visit of the Faculty. — An uncourteous Public. 
 
 Eaciiel spent three months this year in the south of France, 
 pursuing fortune indefatigably and playing Avithout cessation 
 almost. She performed eighty times in ninety days during 
 the summer months, and in more than twenty different local- 
 ities. 
 
 A singular circumstance, and one little known, connected 
 with this tour, is that, before leaving Paris, the trafjedknne 
 actually offered her services to the provisional government to 
 popularize tlie Eepublic in the Departments by singing the 
 "Marseillaise" Avherever she played! The offer was accept- 
 ed by Ledru Rollin, the Minister of the Interior, who caused 
 the following circular to be addressed to all theatrical mana- 
 gers in the provinces, recommending Mademoiselle Eachel to 
 their kind offices, and enjoining them to render her all aid in 
 the exercise of her ministry as a Propagandist : 
 
 "Cabinet of the Minister de ITntericur, Paris, April 24, 1848. 
 
 "Citizen Manager, — Citizen Felix having assembled a 
 company with which he intends visiting various parts of 
 France, it is his intention to have the master-pieces of our 
 stage performed, the Citoyenne Rachel volunteering to be their 
 interpreter. The Citoyenne Eachel has broken engagements 
 to a large amount which she had abroad, in order to remain 
 in France! 
 
 "The devotion she has shown to the Eepublic in Paris by 
 her admirable creation of the 'Marseillaise' slie intends dis- 
 playing in the Departments. 
 
 The electricity (!) she has diffused here will doubtless pro- 
 
 w
 
 196 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 duce also the most marvelous and salutary effects in our prov- 
 inces. It is in the name of art, over which the Republic in- 
 tends extending its powerful and fertilizing protection, that I 
 request you will take into consideration the sacrifices she 
 makes, and lend your assistance to facilitate the performances 
 which Citizen Raphael P'elix intends organizing in your town. 
 " Salut et Fraternite. 
 
 " Elias Regnault, 
 " Director, ad interim, of Theatres and Libraries." 
 
 M. Leon Legault, allured by the bright prospects, held out 
 in this cii'cular, entered into an agreement with the Felixes, 
 father, son, and daughter, by which it was stipulated they 
 should receive, free of all expense, 4400 francs from the gen- 
 eral management of the Lyons theati'es. This agreement was 
 rescinded, and a second one made, by which the expenses oc- 
 casioned by each performance were to be at the charge of the 
 Felixes, they receiving the whole amount of the receipts made, 
 with the sole condition of paying 1000 francs per night to Mr. 
 Legault. 
 
 The non-execution of this agreement entailed a forfeit of 
 5000 francs unless its fulfillment was rendered impossible by 
 war or some other public calamity. 
 
 The tragedienne, either deeming she could gain more else- 
 where, or actuated by some other motive, altei-ed her mind and 
 her course, carrying the " Mai-seillaise" to Toulouse, Montpel- 
 lier, Nimes, Aries, Aix, Marseilles, &c., &c. This propagand- 
 ist expedition was sufficiently remunerative to enable her to 
 pay, without impoverishing herself, the 5000 francs forfeit to 
 which the tribunal condemned her at the suit of M. Legault 
 for having neglected to popularize the Republic in Lyons ac- 
 cording to the terms of her contract. 
 
 It was during this year's visit to Montpellier that Rachel 
 obtained permission of the authorities, and of the captive her- 
 self, to visit Madame Lafarge, then imprisoned in the Maison 
 Centralc of that town. 
 
 The unfortunate woman made a deep impression on her 
 visitor. She could not but feel great interest in one who, in- 
 nocent or guilty, had acquired so terrible a celebrity, and was 
 suffering so cruel a doom.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 197 
 
 One thing particularly impressed Mademoiselle Kaclicl : she 
 plainly saw on the prisoner's features the seal of the fatal dis- 
 ease of which she herself and her sister wei-e to die. Describ- 
 ing this interview in a letter to a friend, she alluded very feel- 
 ingly to the symptoms of consumption she had noticed in 
 Madame Lafarge, saying, 
 
 " The poor woman — whether guilty or not, I must call 
 her so — the poor woman was slowly dying of that most terri- 
 ble of all diseases, consumption. She feels tlie skein of life's 
 thread unwinding, and, to the very last, she will see, she will 
 feel. It is very dreadful. Better far a bullet in the weak 
 chest, or a tile falling on the aching head some windy day." 
 
 Did the Avriter then presage her own fate when she ex- 
 pressed such horror of another's 1 
 
 Mademoiselle Kachel afterward told her friends that she 
 had consulted several clairvoyants, and that to her inquiry 
 whether Madame Lafarge Avas guilty, the answer had always 
 been in the negative. This was probably more satisfactory to 
 her than such evidence would have been to judge or jury. 
 
 Her tour was marked by other incidents of a less gloomy 
 
 nature. In this same town, II , the actor who played 
 
 the part o£ T/teiranenes, was hissed in the famous narrative of 
 the death of Ilipjwlyte. He immediately advanced to the 
 foot-lights, and, addressing the public with imperturbable sang 
 froid, said, " JIa foi, gentlemen, you are quite right; I said 
 it shockingly ; but never mind, I'll begin it all over again." 
 
 Phklre, who Avas waiting in the slips for the moment when 
 she is to drink the poison {que Medce apporta dans Athcnes), 
 laughed heartily at this confession. 
 
 At Draguignan, Fleurct, who played the part of Theseus, 
 worn out with his constant night-work and day-traveling, fell 
 fast asleep while listening to the above-mentioned narrative 
 of his son's horrible death. A very vigorous reminder be- 
 stowed upon his shins was required to rouse him in time to 
 exclaim, 
 
 "O mon fils, cher espoir que je me siiis ravi."' 
 
 But while Rachel was away reaping the rich summer har- 
 vests, the green-room intrigues and spirit of revolt, Avhich the 
 necessity of union had momentarily quelled, began to ferment
 
 198 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 anew, and on her return in Septemljer she found her own 
 empire undermined, and hei' favorite, the dictator, whom she 
 had been so instrumental in creating, on the eve of being ex- 
 pelled. The dismissal of Citizen Loekroy was imminent. 
 
 It is difficult for those unacquainted with Vrenoh customs 
 to have any idea of the importance attached by the public to 
 all that concerns the stage, of the absorbing interest taken by 
 the Parisians in the quarrels of actors, in the vicis.«itudes of 
 their theatres, in the green-room intrigues. The high honor 
 in which dramatic literature is held contributes greatly toward 
 excitin2: this interest. Actors in France are not left to their 
 own resources, as is the case in other countries. The French 
 government grants considerable subsidies to the larger theatres, 
 in order to enable them to add eclat to their performances, to 
 afford to their artists the leisure necessary to perfect their 
 studies, to remunerate the talent employed. The influence 
 of government is not so materially felt by the minor theatres, 
 though its protection and encouragement is also extended to 
 them. Among the houses to which the subsidy is granted, 
 the chief are the Grand Opera and the Theatre P^-angais. 
 The Grand Opera, one of the greatest attractions the capital 
 oifers to foreigners, is, in part, a dependence of the crown, and, 
 since its creation by Louis XIV., all the succeeding sovereigns 
 have felt a pride in sustaining it with eclat. As to the Thea- 
 tre Francais, or La Coraedie Fran^-ais, as it is indifferently 
 called, its actors are looked upon as the chosen and enlighten- 
 ed interpreters of that dramatic literature which is one of the 
 glories of France. The actors reap the benefit of the worship 
 tributed to the genius of Corneille, Racine, Moliere, R^gnard, 
 Voltaire, and so many other master-minds. Hence the lively 
 interest with which the public regards every thing that con- 
 cerns them. Their lawsuits are matters of public import ; the 
 most distinguished lawyers dispute the honor of figuring in 
 them ; and the public journals follow the cases as though the 
 fate of the countiy was at stake. 
 
 That the reader may the better understand the nature and 
 the object of the dissensions between jMademoiselle Rachel 
 and tlie Theatre Fran^nis, dissensions which the law was 
 called upon to settle at the close of this year, a slight sketch
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 199 
 
 of the peculiar organization of that theatre is indispensable. 
 Without tliis commentary, this portion of our work would 
 prove to some persons unintelligible. 
 
 The actors of the Theatre Fran^ais constitute, in fact, a 
 commercial association. The talent of each member is the 
 portion of capital he brings into it, and, according to the valu- 
 ation put on this intellectual property, each is entitled to 
 what is called a half, a quarter, an eighth, three quarters of a 
 share, or a full share in the profits of the theatre, which are 
 divided into twenty-four shares. When all the shares are 
 taken, the personnel of the theatre is not j'et sufficiently 
 numerous for its requirements ; to supply the deficiency, the 
 holders of shares, that is, the comcdiens societaires, engage what 
 are called pensionn aires. The pensionnaires are actors with 
 fixed salaries paid by soci''taires. These salaries diminish the 
 profits of the company, and constitute one of its charges. 
 
 Tlie company is governed by a committee of management, 
 composed of six male members. The company has also the 
 privilege of being the arbiter of literary merit, as it is to a 
 comite de lecture, composed of male and female members, that 
 all plays presented to the theatre are submitted, and this last 
 committee has a riglit to refuse, to receive fully or condition- 
 ally, at its o\\Ti discretion, any play. 
 
 This constitutional charter, which had existed for many 
 years, was confirmed by a decree known as the "Decree of 
 Moscow," from its having been signed by Napoleon I. in that 
 city on the loth of October, 1815. By virtue of this decree, 
 the free action of the company is only subject to the surveil- 
 lance of the superintendent of the coui't performance and to 
 that of the imperial commissioner ; its committees regulate 
 the material, financial, and artistic afifairs of the theatre with 
 almost uncontrolled freedom. Certcs, no oriianization can be 
 more liberal ; none could seem better calculated to stimulate 
 the actors to do their utmost for the prosperity of their house, 
 since whatsoever they do is for their own interests, and the 
 value of their shares is increased according to the benefits re- 
 alized ; it places them, moreover, in a position of honorable in- 
 dependence, and should have the effect of maintaining peace 
 and concord among them, as they are themselves the arbiters
 
 200 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 of all the little discussions, the rivalries, bickerings, and quar- 
 rels arising from wounded vanity and irritated self-love, insep- 
 arable to tlie profession. Unfortunately, the facts have always 
 been far from justifying this fair conclusion. At the time 
 the Decree of Moscow was published, bitter dissensions, enven- 
 omed rivalries — among others, that which reigned between 
 Mademoiselle Mars and Mademoiselle Levert, divided the 
 company. The decree was the qiios ego ! of him who was ac- 
 customed to see all things return, at his command, within the 
 limits of order. 
 
 After the fall of the Empire, the company went on, some- 
 what lamely, to be sure, under the rather lax surveillance of 
 messieui's the gentlemen of the bed-chamber, who had been 
 brought back by the Restoration, taking refuge, ever and 
 anon, against any real or fancied infringement of its privileges 
 under the shadow of the Decree of Moscow, as under the Pal- 
 ladium of its independence. But, like all other bodies, after 
 1830 it began to experience the effects of the dissolving spirit 
 of the times. Matters came to such a pass that, in 1847, the 
 WTetched management, the intestine strife, the bad state of its 
 financial affairs, made the intei-position of government indis- 
 pensable. By a decree published on the 29th of August, a 
 chief was appointed to the disorganized republic. The di- 
 rector chosen was M. Buloz, a man of letters of some reputa- 
 tion, who had given proof of his capacity for management in 
 the successful organization of the "Kevue dcs deux Mondes," 
 a monthly publication. The nomination of M. Buloz in the 
 place of the committee of management Avas a complete revo- 
 lution for the company ; the new director was, by some of the 
 members, received as a usurper, by others as a liberator. 
 
 The continual complaints of Mademoiselle Eachel, which 
 always found favor with those in authority, her threats of 
 resignation as far back as the year 1846, had largely contrib- 
 uted to bring about the measures that had finally caused the 
 nomination of M. Buloz. From the beginning she had de- 
 clared herself in favor of the dictatorship, and from that time 
 she had been the soul of the party that had sustained it ever 
 since its first creation. 
 
 Mademoiselle Eachel had a whole share in the company
 
 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 201 
 
 and forty-two thousand francs out of the subvention granted 
 by the slate. Consequently, it was for her interest that the 
 theatre should be ably managed, and made to give large prof- 
 its. It was no less for her interests that it should keep on 
 good terms with every government. She knew well, too, that 
 an actress of more than ordinary talent, a young and pretty 
 woman, would have a far better chance of ruling a manager, 
 however absolute he might be, than a committee of six men, 
 all actuated by different views, claims, and passions. 
 
 Tliese considerations led Mademoiselle Kachel to lend all 
 her influence to the election of M. Lockroy, the republican 
 commissary Avho succeeded M. Buloz, expelled in February. 
 But revolutions are moving sands. When the revolutionary 
 fever had cooled ofi^, and while Mademoiselle Rachel was away 
 on leave, the independent party raised its head in the com- 
 mittee. M.. Lockroy was attacked ; his provisional origin, his 
 national performances, his " Marseillaise," were made as great 
 reproaches of as the ministerial origin of M. Buloz had for- 
 merly been. M. Lockroy was in his turn assaulted by his 
 very constituents, and Avhen his Arm ally. Mademoiselle Ea- 
 chel, returned, his fall was decreed, and it actually took place 
 in the beginning of October. His dismissal angered Made- 
 moiselle Rachel exceedingly ; it wounded her vanity and in- 
 jured her interests. She resolved on the most energetic 
 measures rather than fall again under the democratic yoke of 
 her peei's, whom she refused to look upon as her equals. She 
 had recommenced her theatrical duties on her return from her 
 summer tour, opening the season with " Phedre" on the 5th 
 of September. The " Marseillaise" was called for but not 
 given. The episodes of June had taken place ; a reaction, 
 of which Jules Janin had shown himself one of the most en- 
 ergetic and courageous organs, had followed, and the change 
 in public opinion was evident from the coldness with which 
 the call was received by the majority of the audience. The 
 staac-manaprcr came forward and said Madcmoisella Rachel 
 was troubled with a cold. 
 
 On the 12th of October Mademoiselle Rachel again attempt- 
 ed a part unsuited to her age and style. She played Agrip- 
 pine in " Britannicus," and failed completely in it. 
 
 12
 
 202 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel had hoped, by her alacrity in resum- 
 ing her duties, to maintain M. Lockroy in power; finding her 
 wishes disregarded and her ally dismissed, she resoited to her" 
 former threats of resigning, and finally did so. The I'csigna- 
 tion was duly notified to her " dear comrades" in a letter dated 
 the 14th of October. She had now completed the term of 
 service — ten years — specified by the Decree of Moscow to ena- 
 ble a socictaire to resign. The last phrase of her letter con- 
 tains the reasons she gives for her determination. 
 
 "It is with regret," says this thorough actress, "it is with 
 the deepest grief, my dear comrades, that I find myself under 
 the necessity of retiring forever from the Theatre Frangais, 
 but my health, perhaps my dignity, are depending on that step." 
 
 The committee was, or appeared to be, surprised. 
 
 "What," exclaimed its members, on the receipt of this let- 
 ter, " Mademoiselle Rachel ill ! Why, she was never better 
 in her life than she is this year, and never performed her duties 
 so well. She has played once in Mai'ch, thirteen times in 
 April, thirteen times in May. If we count the number of 
 times she has performed during her covgc, we shall find she 
 played twenty-seven times in one month I She may require 
 rest after such fatiguing labors ; we are aware that she is in 
 the habit of getting her physicians to prescribe periods of con- 
 valescence every time she returns from her periodical excur- 
 sions ; but this does not constitute an illness ; it would, on the 
 contrary, go to prove a most energetic nature." 
 
 The committee thereupon endeavored to induce Mademoi- 
 .selle Rachel to retract so ill-grounded a resolution. Her an- 
 swer was not delayed, and in it something of the true motives 
 that actuated her peeps out. 
 
 " I am no longer able, lohcn thus annoyed and vexed, to fulfill 
 the duties of the art to which I have devoted my life." 
 
 Here she no longer complains of health ; wounded self-love 
 is the grievance. 
 
 All measures of conciliation appearing useless, the manage- 
 ment had recourse to the law, and a suit was commenced on 
 the 20th of November, before the civil tribunal of the Seine. 
 A letter, however, from Mademoiselle Rachel to the commit- 
 tee (no longer her " dear comrades") stopped the proceedings 
 for H time. It was couched in the following terms;
 
 MEMOIRS or RACHEL. 203 
 
 " Messikurs, — The state of my health is such that the 
 euit you have commenced on the 20th of this month has in 
 reality no object and no immediate urgency. » * » * 
 I am not able to act. The physicians attached to the theatre 
 are welcome to ascertain the truth of this statement, and I am 
 willing to receive their visit." 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel then proposes that the suit brought 
 against her be allowed to rest for a while, and requests her 
 comrades will remember that her devotion to the interests of 
 the theatre has occasioned the ruin of her health. She then 
 goes on to say : 
 
 " I have notified to you my resignation or my retirement. 
 I am legally entitled to do so, and it is my firm intention to 
 adhere to it. If it is required that I should reiterate my de- 
 cision within one year from the date of the 14th of October, 
 and if my doing so will put a stop to all difficulties, I am will- 
 ing to do so." 
 
 The offer to submit to the decision of the faculty and the 
 delay of one year thus proposed stopped the suit. 
 
 The 17th of December was appointed for the medical visit. 
 It was at the residence of Mademoiselle Kachel, No. 10 Rue 
 de Rivoli, that this scene, worthy the pen of the immortal au- 
 thor of " Le Malade Imaginaire," took place. The doctors, 
 her adversaries, deputed to report her in excellent health, 
 found her on the defensive, guarded by her own physician, 
 Doctor Denis, equally determined to make her out ill before 
 and against all men. This champion, omitting none of the 
 diagnostic and prognostical signs on which he could base his 
 client's malady and establish its nature, asserted that she had 
 been greatly indisposed for the last six weeks ; that she «uf- 
 fered from fits of pain in her chest, fever, want of sleep, and 
 progressive falling away. As the patient's appearance did not 
 corroborate this " progressive thinning," she met this objection 
 by the ackno\Aledgment that she had been " improving lately." 
 The visitors, finding no fever or other symptoms to warrant 
 the assertion of illness, decided that a fortnight's rest was all 
 she required to enable her to resume her duties. 
 
 But there was another tribunal of ftir more importance,
 
 204 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 whose verdict the tragedienne had not thought of — another far 
 more severe judge summoned her to give a reason for her in- 
 action during four months. The public, in its turn, instituted 
 an inquiry, and the result was not favorable to her. We are 
 seldom disposed to indulgence toward those who deprive us 
 of our pleasures. Her conduct was severely censured, and 
 set down as the capricious malice of an imperious woman. 
 The republican public, less patient and courteous than had 
 been the monai-chical one, manifested its opinions rather rude- 
 ly. In the sort of vaudeville review of the year brought out 
 on the stage at its close, some complimentary stanzas to Made- 
 moiselle Kachel having been introduced, wereloudly hissed. 
 
 Thus closed, for Mademoiselle Kachel, the year 1848, com- 
 menced amid such applause. She might comfort herself with 
 the thought that the noisy token of disapprobation that closed 
 her short-lived popular career offered a resemblance to the 
 republican ovations of former times ; the hiss that pursued 
 the Roman generals amid their triumphs had been revived for 
 her benefit. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 1849. 
 
 A spoiled Child. — Proscription of "Cinna." — " Le Moineau de Les- 
 bie.'' — The real Adrienne Lecouvreur. — Funeral Honors to theat- 
 rical Talent in France and in England in 1730. — The Adrienne Le- 
 couvreur of ^lessrs. Scribe and Legouve. — A characteristic Letter. 
 
 The motives that kept Mademoiselle Rachel from the stage 
 during the last three months of the year 1848 have been given. 
 In accordance with the decision .of the faculty, she should have 
 made her appearance on the 2d of January, 1849 ; but she 
 contrived to suggest so many delays that the long-expected 
 event did not take place until the 13th. The attitude of the 
 public revealed a deeper displeasure than was usually mani- 
 fested by its coldness on former occasions of reappearance ; 
 it was decidedly hostile. It was a sullen, brooding discon- 
 tent, that was evidently waiting to seize the first opportunity 
 of breaking out in open murmurs. The actress could not mis-
 
 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 205 
 
 take the feeling that actuated her audience ; but, as was al- 
 ways the case with her, the more dfliicult the situation, the 
 more energy and courage she displayed ; the greater the anger 
 of the public, the more winning and fascinating she became. 
 She invariably acted the part of the spoiled child that is sure 
 to conquer in the end, whatever degree of severity may be 
 shown to it at first. The wish to reinstate herself in the fa- 
 A'or of the public produced an excitement of her nervous sys- 
 tem that resembled depth of feeling, and lent an indescribable 
 charm to her acting. The tragedy was " Andromaque," and 
 never had the actress played with such rare perfection. The 
 result was a free pai-don, manifested by immense applause. 
 The Prince President honored the performance with his pres- 
 ence. 
 
 Amonsr the signs of the times was the withdrawal of the 
 play of " Cinna," that had been announced for Mademoiselle 
 Rachel's rentrce- If she had chosen this tragedy as an expia- 
 tion of past sins, this Parthian arrow shot at her provisional 
 friends of 1848 was in bad taste. The government of the 
 Prince President showed more tact and judgment ; the trag- 
 edy of " Cinna" was prohibited, and that of " Andromaque" 
 substituted. 
 
 It would indeed have been imprudent to repeat before a 
 parterre, still perhaps agitated by remains of the turbulent 
 passions so lately vented, such a line as this : 
 
 "Le pire des Estats est I'Etat populaire !" 
 Neither would it have been proper to offer to the anti-Repub- 
 lican party such allusions as these : 
 
 " Un tas d'hommes perdus de dettes et de crimes 
 Que pressent de mes lois les ordres legitimes 
 Et qui desesperant de les plus eviter, 
 Si tout n'est renverse nc sauraient subsister." 
 
 This was not the first time lately that " Cinna" had been 
 deemed too plain spoken. The following lines were, indeed, 
 well calculated to set the volcanic heads of the pit in a blaze: 
 
 "Les hoiineurs sont vendus an plus ambitieux, 
 Ces petits souverains qu'il fait ])our une annee, 
 "Voyant d'uii temps si court leur puissance bornee, 
 Des plus heureux dcsseins font avorter le fruit 
 De peur de le laisser a celui qui les suit."
 
 206 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 The press, however, did not fail to comment upon the with- 
 drawal of this tragedy, and to take note of and quote the po- 
 litical allusions tliat occasioned its proscription. The most 
 anti-Kepublican of all critics exclaimed, "To this pass has so 
 much liberty reduced us." 
 
 On the 22d of March Mademoiselle Rachel appeared in a 
 pretty little comedy, in one act, and in verse, by Monsieur 
 Armand Barthet. "Le Moineau de Lesbie" can not be said 
 to have any plot ; it derives all its charm from the light grace 
 and beauty of its details. It was published a few days before 
 the breaking out of the Revolution of February, 1848 — a sin- 
 gular time for the appearance of this sweet elegy on the death 
 of a sparrow that died nineteen hundred years before it was 
 written ! This souvenir of Rome's far-distant past, evoked 
 amid the convulsions of a modern crisis, was adopted by 
 Mademoiselle Rachel one year after its birth, when it was 
 first put upon the stage. 
 
 The scene is laid in Rome, about the time of the war be- 
 tween Caesar and Pompey. The poet Catullus is about to 
 turn Benedict ; surrounded by many friends, he makes a liba- 
 tion to the gods of his youth, whom he renounces to marry 
 Sexta. While the gay party, under the influence of the rich 
 Falernian, extol the pleasures of freedom and lament the ab- 
 dication of the poet, a message is brought from the bride-elect. 
 Sexta has last night had evil dreams ; alarmed, she has hast- 
 ened to consult the augurs, but she would have far more 
 faith in the words of her betrothed than in their promises. 
 Will he come to her? He asks but the time to go to the 
 Latin Gate for the bridal gift that has been ordered — dia- 
 monds that are to star that lovely brow — he will be with her 
 forthwith. 
 
 During the temporary absence of the bridegroom, his fair 
 friend, the companion of his gayer hours, the charming Lesbia, 
 ignorant of the loss that threatens her, enters. The banquet- 
 ers, dazzled by the fair apparition, endeavor, each in turn, to 
 succeed to her recreant lover, and each is in turn laughed at 
 and dismissed. The narrative of the death of the sparrow 
 gracefully introduces the reconciliation of the lovers. 
 
 However foreign this pi'etty trifle might seem to Mademoi-
 
 Mt"?.IOIRS OF RACUFX. 207 
 
 selle Rachcrs true style, hei- personification of the gentle Lcs- 
 bia was very pleasing. The scene in which Lcsbia tries on 
 the wedding ornaments of the future bride was phiyed with a 
 grace, a feminine conception of tiiis coquettish part that was 
 little expected from the representative of the austere muse of 
 tragedv. 
 
 The " Moineau de Leshie" was first played for the benefit 
 of IMudcmoisolIe Anais on the boards of the Italian Opera 
 House. It was the last piece, and midnight had sounded 
 when it was begun. Acted before an audience satiated with 
 the preceding entertainments, worn out with fatigue and half 
 asleep, it had very nearly proved a failure. Brought out on 
 the following Saturday in its proper sphere, the Theatre 
 Frant^ais, it obtained a great success. 
 
 In the early part of the eighteenth century a great change 
 was introduced in the manner of reciting on the French stage. 
 The authors of this revolution were the celebrated Baron and 
 the no less celebrated Adrienne Lecouvreur. The father of 
 the latter was a hatter, who, not finding his trade sutHciently 
 lucrative in his own little provincial town, came up to Paris 
 ■with liis family in the hope of bettering his circumstances. 
 He settled near the The'utre Fran(,ais, then situated in the 
 Faubourg St. Germain. This proximity afforded Adrienne 
 opportunities for indulging her theatricals, and developed the 
 inclination she had manifested from early childhood. She 
 soon proved that " where there is a will there is a way ;" for 
 in 1705, when hardly fifteen years of age, she persuaded some 
 young companions to join her in getting up no less a tragedy 
 than '• Polyeucte," followed by the comedy of " Lc Deuil." 
 The rehearsals, which took place at a grocer s shop in the 
 neighborhood, were honored by the presence of several persons 
 of distinction. Astonished at the extraordinary talent shown 
 by the hatter's daughter, who played Pauline, tlie visitors men- 
 tioned her with enthusiasm to INIadame la Pre-sidente Lejay, 
 and that lady built a little theatre in the court-yard of her 
 own hotel. Rue Garanciere, for the juvenile company. The 
 select audience, though disposed to indulgence, found they had 
 little need of any. The untutored girl delighted ears that 
 were accustomed to the best actors of the day ; her intonation
 
 208 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 — correct, pure, and true to nature — formed a striking con- 
 trast with that of the performers then in vogue, who declaim- 
 ed, bawled, or chanted, but never spoke their parts. The 
 players of tlie Comedie Franr-ais, getting wind of the favor 
 shown to the band of youthful amateurs, and jealous of the 
 privileges of their own house, represented the case to D'Ar- 
 genson, the Lieutenant of Police, as an infringement of their 
 rights. An exempt and his man were dispatched to bring the 
 delinquents before the dreaded man in authority. Adrienne 
 and her accomplices were terrified beyond measure, but their 
 protectress interposed between them and the lieutenant ; a few 
 words explained all, and the order was revoked on condition 
 the performances should be discontinued. But the courage of 
 the little people was not cowed ; they managed to get the 
 Grand Prieur interested in their behalf, and, under the pro- 
 tection of the walls of the Temple, were enabled to set at 
 naught the prohibition of the police. What the authority of 
 D'Argenson had failed to accomplish, however, was effected 
 by the spirit of discord. After two or three performances, 
 the self-constituted actors quarreled as though they had been 
 regularly-organized players in ordinary to his majesty, and 
 the company was broken up. 
 
 Mademoiselle Lecouvreur did not, as is often the case with 
 young artists, meet with any opposition to her vocation in her 
 own family. Her father encouraged and cultivated her taste 
 by his judicious advice, and the fame of her precocious talent 
 soon procured her offers from provincial managers. She play- 
 ed for some years in Strasburg, and the chief towns of Alsace 
 and Lorraine, 
 
 Her success in the provinces facilitated her admittance on 
 the boards of the The'atre Frangais, that had once well-nigh 
 put an end to her theatrical career, and she made her debut 
 there in the month of May in the year 1717, in the character 
 of Electre. The sensation she created was very gi'eat ; she 
 was accounted one of the first actresses of the age, and rivaled 
 Mademoiselle Duclos, who for twenty-four years had been the 
 favorite of the public. 
 
 As an artiste, Adrienne Lecouvreur left a name for talent 
 of the highest order ; she was no less admired for her charms
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 209 
 
 of person. All grace in her manners, her carriage was so 
 noble and dignified that it was said of her that she was a 
 queen among the players. Simplicity and propriety, correct- 
 ness and elegance, characterized her style. Her voiee, though 
 not of great compass, possessed an infinite variety of inflec- 
 tions and the most moving tones. Her features were fine 
 and sufficiently marked to express strong passions, while her 
 eyes, full of fire, added the most eloquent commentary to what 
 was uttered by her lips. Her figure, though slight, and not 
 above the middle height, was well developed, and seemed much 
 taller on the boards. The good taste and richness of her dress 
 enhanced the gifts of Nature, not the least of which was a 
 gentle, loving heart, a ready wit, and, what is far more valu- 
 able, the great art of making that wit a source of pleasure 
 instead of pain to her friends. 
 
 No actress better understood than Mademoiselle Lecouvreur 
 the ai't of listening. Her pantomime was so expressive that 
 every thing the actor who was addi-essing her said was depict- 
 ed on her countenance. Her quick comprehension taught her 
 instantly the road to the heart ; she gave power and meaning 
 to weak and insignificant lines, and new beauties to fine ones. 
 Consummate in the art of entering into the spirit of the part, 
 she felt what she uttered, and communicated her sensations 
 to her audience. No tragedienne ever drew more tears or in- 
 spired such terror. 
 
 With so many titles to favor, it can not be wondered that 
 this charmino; woman was dear to all who knew her. With 
 the public she was all in all — pit and boxes agreed in idoliz- 
 inof her. Nor did she, like modei'n favorites, take advantajro 
 of this passionate fondness to show herself exacting, cnpri- 
 cious, or imperious. She proved herself worthy of an affec- 
 tion that did honor to both sides, by the most scrupulous 
 punctuality in the discharge of her professional duties. It is 
 recorded of Adrienne Lecouvreur and of her no less famous 
 contemporary, the actor Baron, that, always ready to perform 
 when required, they never had recourse' to the hackneyed pre- 
 tense of indisposition to obtain an exemption from duty. They 
 left to the invention of their successor, the talented Lekain, 
 the convenient fashion of going every year to reap golden
 
 210 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 harvests in the provinces or abroad, v\-hile they were paid in 
 tlie capital. 
 
 Anions the numerous admirers of Mademoiselle Lecouvreur, 
 the one who obtained a lasting hold en her affections Avas the 
 famous Count Marshal de Saxe, the son of Augustus, King of 
 Poland, and of the beautiful Countess of Kbnigsmark, as hand- 
 some as his mother, and as brave as the god of war. When 
 this romantic knight was planning the conquest of his Duchy 
 of Courland, notwithstanding his high reputation and illustri- 
 ous birth, he could find no one to join him in raising funds 
 for his adventurous scheme : his own purse was quite inad- 
 equate to supply the demands of his courage. His generous 
 mistress realized by the sale of her diamonds the sura of 40,000 
 livres — equal then to three times that amount in the present 
 day — and compelled him to accept it. Although the expedi- 
 tion was unsuccessful, the hero of it was not the less the lion 
 of the aristocratic circles of the capital, and the beauties of the 
 court employed all the magic of their seductions to draw Iwm 
 into their toils. No less a lady than the Duchess of Bouillon 
 is said to have been at last successful in making him forget the 
 allegiance he owed to the fair Adrienne. Stung with jealousy, 
 the actress seized the only means of revenge in her power. 
 One night, when acting Phcdre, instead of addressing to her 
 confidant the passage, 
 
 " Je sais mes perfidies, 
 Gi^none, et ne suis point de ces femmes hardies, 
 Qui poutant dans le crime une tranquille paix, 
 Ont su se faire un front qui ne rougit jamais," 
 
 she turned to the conspicuous box where her rival sat in all 
 the pomp of rank, and apostrophized her with all the passion- 
 ate scorn and indignation she knew so well how to throw into 
 the lines. The public, who understood the real drama, ap- 
 plauded vehemently, and the enraged duchess vowed venge- 
 ance. The death of Adrienne Lecouvreur, though arising 
 from natural causes, followed this little scene within so short 
 a time that the tongue of malice might have attempted to 
 show a strange c incidence between them. But the nature of 
 the illness that cut short the career of this celebrated actress 
 was too well known to justify such conjectures, and it was left
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 211 
 
 to the unscrupulous pens of dramatists and novelists tlius 
 wantonly to charge the memory of the high-born and beauti- 
 ful with so odious a crime. 
 
 On the 2od of October, 1730, the English stage lost one of 
 its briglitcst ornaments in the person of 3Irs. Oldfield. The 
 body, after lying several days in the Jerusalem chamber at 
 Westminster, was borne in great pomp to the Abbey, where 
 it was interred among England's higli-born and high-lionored, 
 Tlie pall-bearers were Lords Delaware an.d Ilarvcy, Messrs. 
 Dorrington, Hodges, and Gary, and Captain Elliot. The fu- 
 neral service was performed by Doctor Barker. ^ 
 
 On the 17th of March of the same year, Adrienne Lecou- 
 vreur, the beloved of the French public, died^ and was, perhaps, 
 still more regretted than her Englisli contemporary. Her ill- 
 ness having been too short to permit of a reconciliation with 
 the Church, an intolerant curate refused to permit of her be- 
 ing interred in consecrated ground, although she had left 1000 
 francs to the Church of St. Sulpice. The body of the lovely 
 and talented creature, immortalized by the pen of Voltaire, 
 was carried in a hacknej'-conch, in the dead of the niglit, to 
 the corner of the Kue de Bourgogne, then a marsh, and there 
 buried ! 
 
 Such a hero and such a heroine, surrounded in their differ- 
 ent spheres with so bright a halo of love, glory, and fame, 
 could not fail to tempt the pens of dramatic authors; but the 
 only successful attempt has been that of Me.^^srs. Scribe and 
 Legouve'. The part of Adrienne was offered to Mademoiselle 
 Rachel, but afraid, perhaps, of the transition from the daring 
 crimes and undisguised passions of the Greek and Eoman per- 
 sonages to the clandestine midnirrht intrigues of the modern 
 drama, of the change from the grand Alexandrines of the clas- 
 sic poets to the prose of every-day life, she refused to under- 
 take it, though she had accepted it at first. INI. Scribe then 
 gave the part to ^lademoiselle Rose Cheri, and it was not un- 
 til six months after that the play having been read anew at 
 the Theatre Franrais, Mademoiselle Rachel accepted it, and 
 it was brought out on the 14th of April of this year. 
 
 Having given a slight biographical sketch of Adi-ienne Le- 
 couvreur, it remains to be seen what romance has added to 
 reality 't the drama.
 
 212 MEMOIRS OK RAeilEL. 
 
 The first act passes in the apartment of the Princess de 
 Bouillon, who is entertained while at her toilet with the gos- 
 sip of the day brought to kvce by a petit abbe. The rivalry 
 between the two great actresses, ]Mademoiselle Lecouvreur and 
 jMademoiselle Duclos, the patronage of the latter by the prin- 
 cess herself, much, as the abbe remarks, to the surprise of the 
 Avoi-ld of fashion, to whom the intimacy of the prince with 
 Mademoiselle Duclos, his gifts of diamonds, a petite maison, 
 &c., ai'e well known — all these items are communicated to the 
 high-born lady, who replies that all this is old news, and that, 
 to have a better hold on her faithless spouse, she has out-gen- 
 eraled him, won over his mistress to her own interests, and is 
 now informed of his doings before he himself knows his own 
 intentions. 
 
 Other visitors enter, the ^«7nce also. The conversation is 
 still of Mademoiselle Lecouvreur, who is to come and recite a 
 few scenes at a soiree of the jyrincess ; the arrival of the Count 
 de Saxe, his braveiy, his exploits, his failure in his expedition, 
 «fec., are also subjects of discussion, when the hero himself 
 enters, and is finally left alone with the hostess. 
 
 In the drama it is to iho, 2)rincess that the count is faithless. 
 Hers were the chains that bound him previous to his leaving 
 Paris on his last expedition. Madame de J3oiiillo?i is now tor- 
 mented by those vague and apparently groundless suspicions 
 that warn a woman that she has a rival. Why must she be 
 left to learn of a stranger his arrival ? Indeed, this has been, 
 •with the exception of one to the secretary of state and the 
 cardinal minister, the very first visit he has made. He only 
 aiTived last night. Ah ! was it the cardinal or the secretary 
 of state Avho presented him with that exquisite bouquet in his 
 button-hole? Oh dear, he had quite forgotten : a little flower- 
 girl at the door of the hotel teased him to buy it of her, and — 
 * * * * " And you kindly did so to present it to me," inter- 
 rupted the subtle lady, possessing herself of the flowers, which 
 the count dares not refuse. 
 
 The instinct oi Madame de Bouillon has not deceived her. 
 When he was last in Paris, the noble adventurer had saved 
 from the insults of several gallants flushed with wine the fair 
 Adrienne Lecouvreur, on her way home from the theatre.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 213 
 
 Since then an intimacy had sprung up between the protegee 
 and him whom she deems a poor officer of fortune, serving un- 
 der t!)c orders of the Count de Saxe. The first visit was to her. 
 
 The princess goes on to speak of the steps she has taken in 
 his behalf to obtain the troops he wishes to levy ; the obsta- 
 cles she has met with in high quarters, the measures she is 
 intending to pursue, &c., &c. The count, however, can not 
 in honor permit of her serving him with her influence and 
 credit at court under the idea that he loves her. He can not 
 accept her devotion under false pretenses; he is on the point 
 of undeceiving her, when the re-entrance of the jorince and 
 abbe prevent the confession, and he is obliged to bid her adieu, 
 leaving the flowers in her hands. 
 
 The second act passes in the green-room of the Comedie 
 Fx-an^ais. The actors are chatting with lords of the court 
 until their turn comes to go on the stage. Adrienne is to plav 
 Eoxane ; her professional rival, Mademoiselle Duclos, plays in 
 the same tragedy; but it is not the wish to excel her only 
 that animates Adrienne. Maurice — she only knows him by 
 that name — Maurice is in a box to the right : for him she 
 must appear to advantage; for him she must Avin applause, 
 must be admired. 
 
 In the mean Avhile, Monsieur de Bouillon has doubts of the 
 fidelity of his mistress ; her maid has communicated to him a 
 note, written by Mademoiselle Duclos to the Count de Saxe, 
 appointing a meeting after the performance in the petite 
 maison the prince's munificence has lately given her. The 
 enraged prince thereupon invites all the actors and actresses 
 to a supper that very night in the jjetiie maison, where he will 
 'surprise and shame his faithless mistress. Adrienne is invited, 
 and, knowing nothing of all these intrigues, accepts, because 
 she is told the Cou7it de Saxe will be there — the coimt, whom 
 she is anxious to know, that she may have an opportunity of 
 soliciting of him the advancement of a poor lieutenant in his 
 service. 
 
 The third act passes in the petite maison. The lady who 
 meets the count there is Madame de Bouillon herself, who has 
 borrowed the house o^ Mademoiselle Duclos, ^n^ commissioned 
 her to make the appointment.
 
 214 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Here we have the proud, the high-born Princess de Bouillon, 
 clesceiided from a King of Poland, closely related to the royal- 
 ty of France, not only acting like a courtesan, but like the 
 veriest idiot ! To avoid compromising her reputation, she 
 admits into her confidence an actress known for the lightness 
 of her conduct, the mistress of her own husband; she makes 
 this woman her emissary, her secretary ; she intrusts her with 
 a secret that involves her honor — she borrows of her, to carry 
 on an intrigue, the petite maison her own husband has fur- 
 nished, and of which he has a key ! Of all the contrivances 
 imagined by dramatists — and they are privileged to invent 
 absurdities — this is the most improbable, the most monstrous. 
 
 The conversation between the princess and the count is, at 
 first, of the obstacles his enemies throw in the way of his 
 political and military schemes. The chief source of anxiety 
 is an unfortunate note for 60,000 livres, to which is appended 
 the signatui'e of the improvident warrior. This note is in the 
 hands of a Swedish nobleman, of whom the embassador of 
 Russia is endeavoring to purchase it, in order to impi'ison the 
 count, and thus put a stop to his conquest of Courland. The 
 princess has power and credit at court, but she laments that 
 she has not 60,000 livres to assist him with. The expla- 
 nation that was to have been made in the morning is given 
 now, but in the very moment when the angry lady insists on 
 knowing who is her rival, the voices of the p?7»ce and his 
 merry guests are heard in the garden. The lady takes refuge 
 in an adjoining room, yet not so quickly but what the husband 
 catches a glimpse of a woman's di-ess as he enters through one 
 door and she goes out at another. Convinced that it is Mad- 
 emoiselle Dados, and that he has it now in his power to morti- ' 
 fy and expose her, he orders the doors of the house to be fast- 
 ened, and forbids any one being let out before daylight. The 
 situation is critical, and the princess is inevitably lost but for 
 Adrienne, to whom, as she refused to come with him, the 
 prince had given a second key to let herself in after the per- 
 formance was over., Adrienne recognizes in the Count de Saxe 
 the officer of fortune in whose favor she had come to solicit 
 him. On his whispered assurance that the lady in the next 
 room, on whom the party make such indiscreet comments, is
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 21.5 
 
 not Madevioiselle Duclos, nor any one in whom he has any 
 interest, saving that honor commands him to see her safe out 
 of tlie house and prevent licr being recognized l)y any one, the 
 generous actress takes the opportunity, when the company are 
 in another room, to put out the hghts and release the prisoner 
 by means of the garden key. There is here an interesting 
 scene in the dark — the rivals, especially the p7-incess, endeavor 
 in vain to recognize each other. Madame de Bouillon, in her 
 precipitate exit, drops a diamond bracelet given to her by her 
 husband that very morning. 
 
 In the fourth act, the princess, a prey to jealous rage, for 
 she has had from the count himself the confession that he 
 loves another, whereas to Adrienne his conduct has only been 
 open to suspicion, the princess makes no display of magna- 
 nimity ; she leaves her recreant lover to his fate, which, in the 
 prosaic form of bailiffs, throws him into prison. Here at least 
 he is separated from her unknown rival, and has ample time 
 to reflect on the advantages he has disdained. In the mean 
 while she endeavors to discover who that rival is. She has 
 but one clew to guide her, the voice. She studies attentively 
 that of every woman who can have had the slightest chance 
 of pleasing the count, to catch the sound she heard that night, 
 but in vain, until, at the soiree announced in the first act, she 
 recognizes it. The scene that follows when the hostess, thrown 
 off her guard by the discover}^, betrays herself to Adrienne in 
 her attempt to mortify her before her guests, is the chief one 
 in the drama. The scorn reciprocated by the actress ; the 
 bracelet, of which she tells the story without mentioning 
 name?, but which the prince, not aware of what has passed, 
 coming in, recognizes as Ids gift to his icife ; the passage from 
 " Phcdre," spoken by Adrienne, and addressed to her rival, 
 whom she stamps with infamy ; the entrance of the count, 
 whom all think in prison, but who has been secretly liberated 
 hj Adrienne ; his gratitude to the ^)?-»ic't'6\<;, who he believes has 
 paid his debts — all these coups de theatre constitute a scene of 
 tJu-illing interest. The rage with which the rivals, in inso- 
 lently courteous phrases, tear each other's heart-strings, and 
 the despair o^ Adrienne, who, notwithstanding her momentary 
 triumph, sees Maurice attentive to the princess, and mistakes
 
 216 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 the gratitude he is expressing for protestations of love, close 
 this act. 
 
 In the fifth act, 3Iaurice, having ascertained that it was to 
 Adrienne that he has been indebted for his liberty — that she 
 has sold her diamonds to rescue him whom she believed faith- 
 less, Maurice, filled with love and gratitude, hastens to offer 
 her all he has in his power, his name and the prospective 
 Duchy of Courland. It is too late ; the jealousy of the of- 
 fended woman has outstripped his love ; Adrieniie is dying. 
 She had received a casket sent in her lover's name, contain- 
 ing the bouquet of the first act : it had been poisoned by the 
 princess. The agony and death of the heroine fill the last act. 
 
 Aside from the numerous improbabilities of this drama, it 
 can not be denied that the interest is kept up unceasingly, 
 that the situations are exceedingly dramatic, and the chai'ac- 
 ters well drawn. That of Michonnet, the old stage-manager, 
 is most excellent. 
 
 It has been said that this was the first time that Mademoi- 
 selle Eachel was called upon to utter prose on the stage. There 
 was another far more serious objection to the part — one which, 
 certes, the authors had not thought of, and which it was left 
 to the genius of Mademoiselle Kachel to discover. In accord- 
 ance with the fashions of her day, Adrienne' s hair is powder- 
 ed ! — Hermione's Greek brow crowned with powdered tresses ! 
 — Camille's Eoman locks sprinkled with flour! — Melpomene in 
 a wig ! The thing Avas not to be thought of: heedless of the 
 anachronism the head presented, heedless of the unpleasant 
 contrast the black hair of Adrienne made with the powdered 
 puffs and curls of the other dramatis personce, destroying much 
 of the illusion, Rachel had her will. She subsequently saw 
 the absurdity of the thing, and conformed to the customs of 
 that age. 
 
 Notwithstanding this and other disadvantages, and though 
 she was far from equaling in it the triumphs she achieved in 
 her own classic repertoire, Mademoiselle Rachel's performance 
 of this charming character was very pleasing. Whatever may 
 be thouglit to the contrary, it is no easy task for an actress 
 to take upon her the imitation of her own position. To mimic 
 one's self is almost impossible. What is unconsciously done
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 217 
 
 with ease becomes difficult the moment it is a part to be studi- 
 ed, and the actress runs the risk of setting it on stilts, or 
 lowering it to something too familiar and bordering on vul- 
 garity. The real history of Adrienne Lecou\Teur has shown 
 that she was one of those privileged beings who unite the qual- 
 ities that constitute the happiness of private life with the brill- 
 iant ones that secure fame and honor in a public one. As 
 witnesses to her charming disposition we have her own letters, 
 evidently written without study or disguise. Such passages 
 as the following paint the woman better than the pens of biog- 
 raphers could ever hope. 
 
 "Mays, 1728. 
 "You know how dissipated life is in Paris, and what are 
 the duties inseparable to my profession. I spend my days do- 
 ing nine tenths of the things that are displeasing to me, in 
 making new acquaintances I can not avoid so long as I am in 
 my present position, and which prevent my cultivating the 
 old, or employing my time to my own taste otherwise at home. 
 It is the fashion to dine or sup with me, because some duch- 
 esses have thus honored me. These ai'e persons whose good- 
 ness and charms would amply satisfy me, but whose society I 
 can not enjoy as I would, because my time belongs to the pub- 
 lic, and I must gratify all who would know me, or be set 
 down as impertinent. For all I am so careful, my health, 
 which is weak, causes me to offend ; if I am obliged to refuse 
 or fail to attend an invitation to a party from ladies I have 
 never seen, or who care to see me merely from curiosity, or, 
 if I may be permitted to say so, because I am the fashion : 
 'Truly,' says one, 'what airs she gives herself!' Another 
 adds : ' She acts thus because we are not titled.' If I am se- 
 rious, for one can not be very gay among people one does not 
 know : ' Is this the woman who has so much wit ?' remarks 
 some one of the company. ' Do you not see she scorns us V 
 says another, ' and that one must know Greek to please her ! 
 She goes to Madame Lambert's.' I know not why I tell you 
 these trifles. I have many other matters to speak of, but I 
 happen at this moment to be troubled with a deal of such gos- 
 sips, and am more than ever possessed with the wish to be 
 free, and have no other study than to please those who feel real 
 
 K
 
 218 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 
 
 kindness for me, and who satisfy my heart and mind. ?.ry 
 vanity finds no compensation in a crowd for the lack of real 
 merit. I do not care to shine ; I find ten times more pleasure 
 in saying nothing and in hearing good things, in being in the 
 gentle company of worthy, virtuous people, than I do in being 
 made giddy with all the insipid praises prodigally and at ran- 
 dom bestowed on me. It is not that I lack gratitude or the 
 wish to please ; but to my mind the approbation of fools is 
 only flattering inasmuch as it is general, and it becomes a 
 burden when it must be purchased by reiterated and especial 
 sacrifices." 
 
 The above is extracted from a collection of letters of Made- 
 moiselle Lecouvreur which was published after her death. In 
 order to undertake the character of this remarkable woman, 
 on her own stage too, though at the distance of a century, it 
 was requisite that her representative should possess no small 
 share of the qualities that adorned her prototype. Mademoi- 
 selle Rachel had one great qualification for the part — she 
 could play the gentlewoman Avith perfect ease. This was in- 
 dispensable to justify the remark of Michonnet, when Adrienne 
 is surrounded by ladies of the highest quality, " She figures as 
 well as the whole of them in a salon." 
 
 In the scenes with the princess Mademoiselle Eachel was in 
 her element, and consequently very much admired. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 1849. 
 
 Benefit of Mademoiselle Georges. — The Tliespian Car in 1650 and in 
 1849. — rhedre without Aricie. — An Audience beliind the Age. — A 
 Tune to suit all Governments. — Life in a Stage-coach. — A promised 
 Conversion. — A Play without an Audience. — The Theatre Fran^ais 
 versus Mademoiselle Rachel. — Mademoiselle Rachel condemned to sing 
 the "Marseillaise." 
 
 In June of this year, the incident to which allusion was 
 made in the last chapter in connection with Mademoiselle 
 Georges occurred. This once-petted and idolized actress made
 
 MEMOIBS OF KACHEL. 219 
 
 an appeal to old friends who wei-e willing to honor the memo- 
 ries of the past, and to the children of a later generation Avho 
 might be curious to see once more what their fathers had ap- 
 plauded to the echo. To stimulate the indiflerence of a pub- 
 lic too busy yet with political broils to care for theatricals, 
 Mademoiselle Georges had solicited the aid of Madame Viar- 
 dot and Mademoiselle Rachel, the present favorites of the few 
 who still had time and inclination for arts and artists. Mad- 
 ame Yiardot had responded to the call Avith the good grace 
 and willing zeal of an artist who understands and sympathizes 
 with griefs that decent pride would fain conceal from the 
 world's eye. Mademoiselle Eachel was not so readily in- 
 duced to come forward on this occasion offered to her of doin"- 
 a praiseworthy action, but she finally consented to perform 
 Eriphile in "Iphigenie." The henljiciare had, of course, un- 
 dertaken Clytemnestra, the mother who so resolutely defends 
 her child — defends her even against the father who consents 
 to her death, against the priest who exacts it. 
 
 The actress who had so much at stake ; who felt herself, 
 moreover, sustained and encouraged by the interest with which 
 an attentive audience followed her words, summoned all her 
 energy, her remaining courage and passion, her wavei'ing pow- 
 ers for one last superhuman effort ; she put forth all li^r 
 strength, and success was the reward. The traces that time 
 and illness had worn on those finely-chiseled features moment- 
 arily vanished ; a faint reflection of the halo of youth and 
 beauty, that ever shone over them when the first empire and 
 she were in their apogee of splendor, returned to illumine her 
 decline ; the sun of by -gone days regilded the noble ruins. The 
 real monarch whose power seemed to defy fortune was fallen 
 long ago — his imperishable name was embalmed in the eternal 
 pages of history. The mock-queen had outlived her opulence, 
 her fame, her worshipers, to find herself compelled in her age 
 to appeal to a public in whom no vestige of enthusiasm for 
 art seemed to survive. 
 
 The announcement of two such names — Mademoiselle 
 Georges and Mademoiselle Eachel — in the same play would, 
 in other times, have drawn crowded houses. It barely sufliced 
 to attract sufiicient spectators to fill the salle of the Italian
 
 220 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Opera House. A feuilletonist of the day remarked very truly 
 that the stage was dead. "We have made," said he, "so 
 much progress within the last eighteen months, in good sense, 
 in fine arts, and in liberty, that not one of the fine arts in this 
 great nation has been left standing. Poetry is dead, painting 
 and sculpture have carried abroad the noble works that main- 
 tained them. Howling, clamor, and insult have usurped the 
 place of eloquence. Not a book, not a poet, not a painting — 
 nothing in the past, nothing in the future!" 
 
 Even this audience, got together with so much difficulty, 
 could not but do justice to the talent brought before them that 
 night. As for Mademoiselle Rachel, she lost here an oppor- 
 tunity of doing a kind and amiable thing. Had she presented 
 to her elder sister one of the numerous bouquets, or placed on 
 her head one of the wreaths showered on the stage, thunders 
 of applause would have followed the gi'aceful act. But no, 
 the demons of envy and jealousy seemed to possess her. An- 
 gered by the approbation bestowed on Mademoiselle Georges, 
 she sullenly refused to play in the " Moineau de Lesbie," an- 
 nounced on the bills for the second piece, and, notwithstand- 
 ing the injury she was doing the hhiejiciare, and the pain she 
 caused the young author, obstinately persevered in her refusal. 
 Mademoiselle Rachel thought to punish the public for having 
 dared to applaud another than herself. Madame Viardot, 
 however, having cheerfully come forward to offer her services 
 to make up the deficiency caused by the tragedienne^ ill-tem- 
 pered refusal, her delightful voice proved an ample compensa- 
 tion. 
 
 The months of June, July, and August were, as usual, de- 
 voted to her profitable vacation. While Mademoiselle Rachel 
 hardly deigned to play twice a week in Paris, where she had 
 a fixed salary, she was indefatigable in her vacations, when 
 the more she played the more she earned. It is astonishing 
 what an amount of fatigue the love of gain enabled this frail 
 constitution to bear. She recoiled before no distance, no labor. 
 As long as any thing was to be got her nerves seemed steeled. 
 The itinerary of one of these tours, as furnished by herself in 
 a letter to Mr. Veron, and published by him in the fourth 
 volume of his " Memoires d'un Bourgeois de Paris," we find
 
 MEMOIRS OP RACHEL. 221 
 
 confirmed in every particular. As it alludes to the conge of 
 this year, we subjoin it. It is dated May 2Gth, 1849. 
 
 Orleans 29th, 31st May. 
 
 Tours 1st, 2d June. 
 
 Poitiers 3d, 4th " 
 
 Niorl 5th " 
 
 La Rochellcs Gth, 8th " 
 
 Rochefort 7th, 9th " 
 
 Saintes 10th, 12th " 
 
 Cognac 11th, 13th " 
 
 Angoul&me 14th, 15th, 17th, 18th " 
 
 Perigneux 19th, 20th " 
 
 Libourne 22d, 23d " 
 
 Mont de Marsan 25th " 
 
 Bayonne 26th, 27th, 29th, 30th " 
 
 Pail 1st, 2d July. 
 
 Tarles 3d, 4th " 
 
 Bagnei'cs 5th " 
 
 Aiich 7th, 8th " 
 
 Toulouse....' 10th, 11th, 13th, 14th " 
 
 Narbonne 16th " 
 
 Pcrpignan 17th, 18th, 20th, 21st " 
 
 Carcassonne 23d, 24th " 
 
 Cahors 26th, 27th " 
 
 AiiriHac 29th, 30th " 
 
 Clermont 1st, 2d August. 
 
 Moulins 3d, 4th " 
 
 Nevers 5th " 
 
 Bourges Gth " 
 
 Blois 8th, 9th " 
 
 Lc Mans 10th, 11th " 
 
 Laval 12th " 
 
 Rennes 13th, 14th " 
 
 S.t. Malo 15th " 
 
 Jersey 17th, 19th, 21st " 
 
 Caen 18th, 20th " 
 
 Guernsey 25th, 26th, 28th, 29th, 31st " 
 
 To the above performances may "be added those given in 
 Bordeaux, Lebourne, and other places not mentioned in Mad- 
 emoiselle Kachel's letter, as she had not yet signed the agree- 
 ment at the time it was written. Altogether they number 
 eighty-five in ninety successive days. To form some idea of 
 the fatiguing nature of this departmental tour, it must be 
 borne in mind that not one mile of it was traveled by rail.
 
 222 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 An old-fashioned, lumbering French stage-coach, comprising 
 the usual divisions of coupe, intcrieur, rotonde, imperial, cabrio- 
 let, and bache, was the vehicle provided for the whole journey. 
 In the coupe, which- was especially appropriated to the chief- 
 tainess, a bed was placed, in order to facilitate as much repose 
 as was consistent with a life of perpetual motion ; at night 
 spread out for a couch, in the day it was rolled up for a sofa. 
 The princesses, maids of honor, and damsels of her suite oc- 
 cupied the interieur, and disputed the corner seats. The em- 
 perors, kings, and lords of high degree had the rotonde; the 
 imjierial was assigned to the confidants and other small fry, 
 who, though not in very enviable seats so far as regarded 
 sleep, had a fine view of the country from their elevated posi- 
 tion. Under the bache were stowed away the trunks, boxes, 
 packages, and bundles containing the wardrobe and stage 
 paraphernalia: Eoxane's dagger, CleopatrcCs worm, Adrienne^s 
 fatal bouquet, and JuditJis sabre ; regal mantles and poisoned 
 cups, crown jewels and bag wigs. / 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel was not perhaps herself aware that 
 she was taking art back to its primitive origin, and that her 
 dramatic diligence was neither more nor less than an imitation 
 of the tragic car of Thespis. With all due allowance for the 
 difference of times and the progress of the present age, her 
 caravan recalls that of which Scarron gives so amusing a de- 
 scription in his " Eoman Comique." 
 
 In consequence of one of the little differences of opinion that 
 sometimes disturbed the concord of the Felix family, Made- 
 moiselle Rachel not always being inclined to place implicit 
 reliance in her brother's arithmetical conclusions, jn lieu of 
 Raphael, the usual nominal manager, a M. Prot filled that 
 office on the present occasion. 
 
 While the tragedienne herself endured without a murmur 
 this continual locomotion, no other member of the company 
 was permitted to allege fatigue as an excuse for non-perform- 
 ance of duty — even indisposition could not, unless very sevei-e, 
 be pleaded to obtain exemption. It was said — we will not 
 vouch for the truth of the report — that on tliis or some other 
 occasion, one of the actors who had had leeches prescribed for 
 some temporary ailing, was obliged to apply them in the
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 223 
 
 coach, having been refused pei'raission to stay behind, even 
 for a da}'. 
 
 At Bouvges, Mademoiselle Durey fell so severely ill while 
 playing Aricie that Mademoiselle Kachel's own maid, Rose, 
 was deputed to take the invalid back to Blois in the privileged 
 coupe. Without an Aricie even Phtdre was incomplete ; at 
 least such was the opinion of the spectators, who demanded 
 their money's worth. To satisfy a provincial audience, al- 
 ways behind-hand with the Paris fashions, }et who imagined 
 they were closely imitating the follies of the capital in exact- 
 ing it as a compensation for the missing bride of Ilippolyte^ 
 Mademoiselle Rachel was obliged to perform the now obsolete 
 " Marsellaise." This complaisance on compulsion was ex- 
 ceedingly distasteful to the politic but no longer political tra- 
 gedienne. Opinion had completely changed color in Paris, 
 and she was not inclined to have it reported there that she 
 was still keeping up in the Departments this hackneyed tragi- 
 comic farce. She would fain have imitated the wisdom of a 
 certain organ-grinder. A passer-by, struck by the more than 
 ordinary discordance of the instrument, which was playing the 
 most incomprehensible, irrecognizable jingle, in which, how- 
 ever, some faint reminiscence of the " Marseillaise" might now 
 and then be distinguished, inquired of the proprietor what 
 might be that tune. " Why, sir, look ye, between ourselves, 
 its an old 'un of the year 184:8, and seeing as how it wa'n't 
 the fashion nowadays, I just took and shifted about the wires 
 a bit, and so made up a new tune as 'ull suit any govern- 
 ment." 
 
 M. Hip. Guichard was the next that gave way to fatigue. 
 Rachel was almost the only one that resisted to the last. 
 
 A jeune premiere was' sent for to Paris, but she only joined 
 the company at Laval. 
 
 At Bordeaux there was great rejoicing and as great subse- 
 quent disappointment among the members of the company. 
 They had expected to I'est every other day during the engage- 
 ment at the Grand Theatre ; but their implacable Nemesis 
 made arrangements to play on the off-nights at Liboume, 
 eight leagues from Bordeaux. The hours not actually spent 
 on the boards were passed in the coach. When not inclined
 
 224 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 to sleep, the occupants of the caravan amused themselves with 
 cards or chatting. 
 
 It was during one of these nocturnal trips that Mademoiselle 
 Rachel, relating how, when she had recited scenes from "Poly- 
 eucte" at Madame Recamier's, she had been complimented by 
 an archbishop, who had remarked that one who pronounced 
 with such fervor the celebrated passage, " Je sais ! je vols! je 
 crois !" could not but be a Christian at heart (see page 52), 
 added, " I most certainly will turn Christian before I die." 
 Whereupon M. Eoussel, one of the actors, inquired, " For 
 whose benefit, madam, will this extraordinary performance be 
 given V 
 
 This allusion to her readiness to adopt any part in life that 
 was best suited to her interests was received by the time-serv- 
 ing tragedienne with the look which, accompanying the fa- 
 mous Sortez ! of Eoxane, always brings down so much applause. 
 M. Roussel was never after engaged to accompany Mademoi- 
 selle Kachel on her provincial excursions. 
 
 The country towns, though delighted with the honor of 
 the celebrated tragedienne^ s visit, were not always provided 
 with suitable buildings for the performances, and ludicrous 
 incidents occurred in consequence. At Saintes, for instance, 
 on the first night, the actors were dressed, every thing was 
 ready, and the doors stood wide open, but not a spectator 
 came. The dilapidated building had been stayed and pi-opped 
 up with sundry ingenious contrivances, but the report of its 
 unsoundness had got abroad, and no one dared to run the rislt 
 of its tumbling down. On the next night, a safer house hav- 
 ing been chosen, all fear was banished. 
 
 At the expiration of her conge, Mademoiselle Rachel had, 
 in the month of September, quietly re-entered on her duties 
 at the Theatre Fran^ais. She continued to fulfill them with 
 the most scrupulous punctuality until the beginning of Octo- 
 ber. Resolved, for motives which will subsequently appear, 
 to persist in the resignation she had sent in on the 14th of 
 October of the preceding year, and renewed, in accordance 
 with the Decree of Moscow, six months after the first notifi- 
 cation, on the 14th of April, 1849, she had taken care to give 
 * "All restc, jc nc nioiirrai pas sans ("tre Clireticnnc" (sic.)
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACnEL. 225 
 
 her antagonists no hold upon her. In the mean while, the 
 societaires, aware of the loss that resignation entailed upon the 
 company, diligently sought to invalidate it, or at least to win 
 public opinion on their side, and leave to Mademoiselle Rachel 
 all the odium of these continual debates. 
 
 In accordance with their plan of leaving no means of con- 
 ciliation untried, on the 12th of October, two days before the 
 fatal day, the committee wrote to Blademoiselle Rachel to 
 endeavor to persuade her not to forsake a company of which 
 she was the pride, and which had contributed so largely to 
 her fame. To these exhortations were added legal arguments, 
 the most powerful of which was drawn from the 82d clause 
 of the Decree of Moscow. That clause provided that, besides 
 the notification and reiteration of the resignation, the socictaire 
 should, at the time of tendering it, make a declaration specify- 
 ing that he or she never intended playing again in any thea- 
 tre, whether French or foreign. Mademoiselle Rachel having 
 omitted to make that declaration, her resignation could have 
 no immediate result until it was renewed in due form. Con- 
 sequently, she was requested to play Adrienne Lecouvreur on 
 the following Tuesday and Saturday. 
 
 The lady's answer was short and uncompromising : her 
 resignation, tendered a year ago, renewed six months after, 
 was not a thing of so little moment that she should not have 
 taken into consideration all its consequences and the duties it 
 involved. The committee, not deeming this answer sufficiently 
 explicit, caused the name of Mademoiselle Rachel to be re- 
 placed on the playbills. 
 
 This act of authority called forth a letter, published in the 
 papers, in which the tragedienne complains that the committee 
 sought to compromise her in the eyes of the public by the 
 announcement of her name in the part oi Adrienne, yvhan they 
 held her resignation, which they knew to be valid. She also 
 energetically repelled the charge of having demanded of her 
 comrades " their money or their lives." Far from which, she 
 asserted that she had declared to all candidates for the man- 
 agement that she was willing to consent to a reduction of 
 salaiy to facilitate any arrangement conducive to the interests 
 of the Theatre Franc^ais. 
 
 K2
 
 226 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 "If I retire," added she, "it is because I believe that act- 
 ors who are their own managers can with difficulty maintain 
 the union so indispensable to their own studies, to the ad- 
 vancement of art, and to the welfare of the theatre. I must 
 have had some experience of this to induce me to renounce 
 the life of applause for which I am indebted to the Parisian 
 public, and for which the happiest private life could afford no 
 compensation." 
 
 Thus the Pythoness of the "Marseillaise" acknowledges 
 that she also recognized the necessity of a king, or at least a 
 dictator, and proclaimed that 
 
 "Le pire des Etats estl'Etat populaire." 
 
 The gauntlet she had thrown down was soon raised. To 
 her letter dated the 14th an answer appeared on the 15th. 
 One of the ablest partisans of her antagonists conducted their 
 side of this newspaper controversy. After giving the reasons 
 that have already been stated why her resignation was null, 
 the committee congratulated itself somewhat ironically at 
 learning that Mademoiselle Kachel intended to consent to a 
 reduction of salaiy. 
 
 "This," said the dear comrades of Mademoiselle Rachel, 
 "is an unexpected resolution, that will not prove one of the 
 least benefits promised to our stage." 
 
 But the future manager was advised, instead of taking ad- 
 vantage of the proposed reduction, to exact more regularity 
 in the performance of duties. " For the public, thus boldly 
 invoked," added the writer, " will hardly believe that Mad- 
 emoiselle Rachel is anxious at the present day for the inter- 
 ests of the theatre, since she has only been able to average 
 there fifty perfomances in nine months, while, during the 
 ninety-two days her conge lasted, she has managed to perform 
 eighty-five nights !" 
 
 To the reproach of the want of concord the committee op- 
 posed an energetic disclaimer. If there was discord, it was 
 urged that the apple was held by Mademoiselle Rachel ; for, 
 " the public must at last be told the truth, Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel is her own manager ; she never receives orders ; she gives 
 the law. It is she who fixes the days she chooses to play,
 
 BIKMOIKS OF RACHEL. 227 
 
 and what parts she will take ; she states how many — and tlic 
 number is considerable — admittances, boxes, stalls, &c., she will 
 have on nights when the interests of the house demand that 
 none be given. * * * Mademoiselle Kachel can not have 
 forgotten the many testimonials of regard which delicacy for- 
 bids our recalling. Her name placed on the bills as never 
 Avasthat of Talma, and as was that of Mademoiselle Mars only 
 toward the close of a career as long as it was brilliant, testi- 
 fied sufficiently of our deference to the rank we have given it 
 among us." 
 
 After this public rupture no conciliation was possible, and 
 the committee revived the suit at law commenced the preced- 
 ing year, but left dormant in accordance with Mademoiselle 
 Rachel's desires. On the 31st of October, the nullity of the 
 resignation, on the gi'ounds already mentioned, was again al- 
 leged, and a claim was, moreover, put in for damages for in- 
 fractions of duty on the 14th of October, 1848, and the 13th 
 of January, 1849. M. Marie, the distinguished lawyer who 
 had been IMinister of Public Works under the provisional 
 government, undertook the defense of the interests of the com- 
 mittee. The counsel for the tragedienne was the .no less cele- 
 brated M. Delangie. * 
 
 We shall not attempt to give the eloquent arguments of 
 these two brilliant orators. We shall merely record such of 
 the facts that came to light during the trial as may illustrate 
 the motives that influenced Mademoiselle Rachel's conduct in 
 a contest that did more honor to her head than to her princi- 
 ples of moral rectitude. 
 
 Among other charges brought by M. Marie was that of 
 seeking to undermine the company, and to obtain even at that 
 very time, in high quarters, its reconstitution according to her 
 own views. 
 
 " Does Mademoiselle Rachel," he exclaimed, " deem us ig- 
 norant of what is going on without these doors ? Are we not 
 well aware that if there is not in a high quarter the integrity 
 and firmness we find here, the company of the Theatre Fran- 
 9ais will be sacrificed? Do we not know the new manager is 
 already selected, and that, in case of success, INIademoisellc 
 Rachel is to re-enter — not into the company; she does not
 
 228 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 want societaires — but in the new management, where she will 
 be all-powerful, where she will enjoy enormous advantages, 
 unconscionable privileges, unlimited conges, and hundreds of 
 thousands of francs without the trouble of earning them. It 
 is the knowledge of these things that causes us anxiety." 
 
 The impatience of the public was great to hear the counsel 
 for the defense. But on the day appointed for M. Delangle's 
 reply the interest had taken another channel. An incident 
 that occurred on the very day after M. Marie's eloquent ar- 
 gumentation had changed the whole course of the aifair, justi- 
 fying in every point his predictions. On the 15th of Novem- 
 ber a decree of the Prince President was published, appointing 
 ]\I. Arsene Houssaye Commissaire Administr-ateur of the govern- 
 ment at the Theatre Fran^ais. This was a reform that cut 
 deeper than any of those previously attempted ; it abolished 
 at once all the privileges conferred on the committee by the 
 32d article of the Decree of Moscow, privileges that gave them 
 the entire management of the affairs of the theatre. The com- 
 mittee vainly attempted to avoid this spoliation. They de- 
 clared their readiness to receive M. Arsene Houssaye as com- 
 missary of the government, but appealed against his nomina- 
 tion as administi-ator. The Decree of Moscow was again in- 
 voked by M. Marie, who defended the societaires. But M. 
 Chaix-D'Est-Ange, the distinguished lawyer who pleaded for 
 M. A. Houssaye, grounded his arguments on the motives 
 given in the new decree. He demonstrated that the bad man- 
 agement of the company had made it necessary that the gov- 
 ernment should manage the funds of the subsidy of which it 
 was responsible. He proved, moreover, that the decree attack- 
 ed was an act of the administration that the tribunal was in- 
 competent to judge. This argument was admitted by the tri- 
 bunal, who, on these grounds, rejected the claims of the play- 
 ers. 
 
 The solution of the last question took much from the inter- 
 est of Mademoiselle Eachel's defense, as well as from the issue 
 of the suit in which she was personally engaged with the 
 players. The committee was now a dethroned potentate, and, 
 whatever might be the decision of the judges, it was well 
 known that Mademoiselle Kachel, who refused to submit to
 
 MEMOIKS OF KACIIEL. 229 
 
 the societaires, would accept the management of M. Iloussaye, 
 tear up her resignation, and re-enter tlic Theatre Fran(;uis. 
 However, as she had had rather severe charges brought against 
 her by M. Marie in the name of her deai' comrades, she felt 
 obliged to repel them. On the 29th of November M. Delangle 
 undertook this difficult defense, and certainly made up in skill 
 and brilliant oratory what he lacked in good reasons. 
 
 The pleading of M. Delangle was of course directly the op- 
 posite of M. Marie's. According to him, all the tragedienne's 
 conduct had been a continual series of proofs of devotion, zeal, 
 labor, disinterestedness, and abnegation. If she had spoken 
 of resigning in 184G, it was because she was ill — seriously ill. 
 She might have been desirous in 1847 of a change in the man- 
 agement of the company without being at all hostile to it. 
 Tliat management was financially so defective that the com- 
 pany would have inevitably been ruined had not an energetic 
 remedy been applied to the evil. In 1848, during the Revo- 
 lution, Mademoiselle Rachel had given proofs of the most ad- 
 mirable devotion to the interests of the committee. Her zeal 
 knew no limits. M. Delangle presented this zeal under colors 
 that certainly astonished the public and probably his very 
 client. 
 
 "Everyday," said the eloquent advocate, "Mademoiselle 
 Rachel, regardless of her ill health, was on the boards. Yes, 
 every day she condemned herself to the ' Marseillaise.' Yes, 
 every evening she sang this ' Marseillaise' to the pit. Well, 
 it could not be helped, and by that means the theatre and the 
 treasury were filled, and the socictaires testified tlicir gratitude 
 to Mademoiselle Rachel in the most flattering letter. Since 
 then their language has changed. She had a right to her 
 conge, and she took it. On her return to Paris she was deep- 
 ly wounded by the dismissal of M. Lockroy, and resumed the 
 project of retreat which had suggested itself to her mind in 
 184G." 
 
 After discussing the different points in debate with regard 
 to the damages claimed, he says, " The total of the perform- 
 ances of Mademoiselle Rachel, from the time of her dchiit to 
 the present day, have produced to the Theatre Franrais the 
 sum of 2,478,482y-^j2J louis." As to the demand of damages,
 
 230 IHEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 that was laid aside when the suit was dropped in 1848, the 
 committee had admitted Mademoiselle Rachel's plea of iU. 
 health. The salary kept back had been paid, and even the 
 arrears, and with the added courtesy of sending the amount to 
 her house. 
 
 Notwithstanding a sharp and witty reply from M. Marie, 
 the decision of the tribunal was in conformity with M. De- 
 langle's pleadings — that is, the resignation was pronounced to 
 be legal, and that there was no case for damages, the commit- 
 tee having admitted the plea of illness and paid the arrears. 
 
 Mademoiselle Eachel did not gain her suit at the bar of 
 public opinion, though she had been so successful at the Tri- 
 bunal Civil of the Seine. The facts that had come to light in 
 the course of the suit revealed principles which, though not rep- 
 rehensible in the eye of the law, conveyed a very unfavorable 
 impression of the tragedienne as an artist and in her social re- 
 lations with her fellow-players. The old amateurs, partisans 
 of the free company of the Theatre Fran(;ais, contrasted her 
 selfish and aggressive behavior with the amiable and concilia- 
 ting temper of Talma, the constant and laborious devotion of 
 Mademoiselle Mars, even to the close of her long and noble 
 career. 
 
 On leaving the court-house. Mademoiselle Eachel hastened 
 to confirm her alliance with M. Arsene Houssaye. She did 
 not, however, show much submission to the chief she conde- 
 scended to acknowledge, for she spent the remainder of the 
 year at home — probably with a view to prove her assertion 
 that she needed rest — and did not make her reappearance un- 
 til the beginning of the year 1850. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 1850. 
 
 iJesMwie.—" Mademoiselle de Belle-Isle."— " Angelo."—" Horace et 
 Lydie." — Conge of four Months spent almost entirely in Germany. — 
 The Peasant Aunt. — Mother and Daughter. 
 
 So far INIademoiselle Rachel had passed over two thirds of 
 her dramatic career. The first five years, from 1840 to 1845,
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 231 
 
 were spent in study, in laborious endeavors to reach the place 
 for which Nature had designed her — at times encouraged and 
 sustained, at others capriciously censured or judiciously re- 
 buked by criticism. During the last period, from 1845 to 
 1850, we have seen her at the apogie of her talent. In the 
 third, which remains to be narrated, fortune, not fame, seems 
 to be the only end pursued by the tragedienne, the second being 
 valued but as a means of increasing the first. "We do not find 
 her employing every leisure hour in learning new parts, ac- 
 quiring new titles to gloiy, or writing able comments on some 
 favorite character, making it, as Mrs. Siddons did that of LcKly 
 Macbeth, the study of her life ; of this, indeed, she had never 
 been capable. Mademoiselle Kachel courted fortune, not glo- 
 ry. She continued to appear in the tragedies of the ancient 
 repertoire in which she was already known, but gave no revi- 
 vals. She ventured into the domain of comedy, but the man- 
 tle of the inimitable Mademoiselle Mars had not fallen on her 
 shoulders ; she gathered no laurels there. 
 
 The few efforts she made in the romantic drama, though 
 not all failures, added little to her fame. In the creation of 
 ne\j' characters she was hardly more felicitous ; of the five, 
 Lydie, Valeria, Lady Tartuffe, Rosemonde, and the Czarine, the 
 first was too insignificant to count in her roles; the second 
 and fourth were complete failures ; the fifth is already' forgot- 
 ten ; the third. Lady Tartujf'e, alone won success. Yet these 
 five characters, three of which hardly survived their first ap- 
 pearance, were all the novelties brought forward by this favor- 
 ite of the public in return for its constant homage and munifi- 
 cent liberality. 
 
 It seems strange that, in this book-tccming age, during the 
 sixteen years that her career lasted, no play really worthy of 
 such an actress was TN-ritten ; and if there had been, it is 
 doubtful if she would have accepted it. With all her extraor- 
 dinary dramatic talent on the boards, this great tragedienne 
 was wholly destitute of taste and judgment in dramatic litera- 
 ture. Of this she gave repeated proofs in her adoption of 
 "Judith," "Catharine II.," "Le Yieux de la Montagne," 
 and, as we shall now see, in "Yaleria," "Rosemonde," and 
 the " Czarine." We mention but those that were utter ab-
 
 232 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 surdities- — tlie remainder, with the exception of " Virginie," 
 were but partially successful. Lacking discernment in her 
 adoptions, we shall find Mademoiselle Rachel obstinate and 
 capricious in her rejections, taking up with passionate enthu- 
 siasm Monsieur St. Ybar's atrocious " Rosemonde," and sus- 
 taining a lawsuit rather than keep her word and play Monsieur 
 Legouve"s " Medee." In this last inconsistency she gave the 
 measure of her gratitude and good faith, as Avell as of her 
 taste and discrimination. 
 
 In the period of her career we are now entering Rachel suf- 
 fers the first and most severe blow in her family afiections; 
 she loses Rebecca, her favorite sister. Constantly bent on 
 satisfying her ruling passion, regardless of alienating the favor 
 of her best friends, unheeding the ominous signs of an impend- 
 ing war, she hastens to Russia. On her return she is careful 
 not to miss adding the attraction of her presence at the The- 
 atre Fran^ais to the many others that brought all the world 
 to Paris during the Exhibition. Her final attempt to add new 
 treasures to her store was the voyage to America, where she 
 was taken ill of the disease which threatened to preclude her 
 ever reappearing on the stage. We will continue to trace, as 
 heretofore, year by year, her steps through life. 
 
 On the 25th of January, under the new administration of 
 ]\I. Arsene Houssaye, which she had so indefatigably and un- 
 scrupulously labored to establish, Mademoiselle Rachel conde- 
 scended once more to favor the public with her presence. She 
 appeared in the rbU of Mademoiselle cle Belle-Isle. Her success 
 in Adrienne Lecouvreur probably induced her to attempt this 
 character, and in so doing she added another to the list of her 
 artistic mistakes. ISTo two roles could be more different — no 
 two situations more dissimilar. In Adrienne Lecouvreur, the 
 success of Madame Rachel was rather that of the woman than 
 that of the actress ; in that of Mademoiselle de Belle-Isle it was 
 neither one nor the other. Tempted by the hope of uniting 
 in lier own hands the fan of Mademoiselle Mai's and the tragic 
 scepti-e, she assumed a character totally unsuited to her, and 
 the result was a total failure. 
 
 This drama of Alexander Dumas, having been adapted to 
 the English stage, is too well known to I'equire any notice here.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 233 
 
 The character of the naive, timid, shrinking, tremblinfr cirl 
 ignorant of the wiles of a dissolute court, made a tool of by 
 Madame de St. Prie, considered in the light of a new toy by 
 the Duke de Richelieu, anxious to save her father and compelled 
 to sacrifice her lover, the puppet of others and never once act- 
 ing of her own v.ill, mixed up in an intrigue her innocence 
 prevents her from perceiving or understanding, was not the 
 heroine for Mademoiselle Kachel ; she was too far removed 
 from antique simplicity, too foreign to her tragic powers to do 
 her any honor. The grmid pagan figures of which the trage- 
 dienne was the fitting representative were the victims of Des- 
 tiny, a power above the gods themselves ; the ai-tless child of 
 modern civilization is the passive instrument of a bad woman. 
 Had Mademoiselle Eachel failed in an entirely new creation, 
 she might have had some excuse for the attempt. But she 
 could not even plead ignorance or misconception. She was 
 acting in a play that had been twelve yeare on the stage; she 
 had undertaken a role created by an actress who had been un- 
 equaled in her own line, and who, moreover, possessed an ad- 
 vantage the tomb can alone confer. Her great qualities were 
 remembered, and contrasted with the faults and shortcomings 
 of her successors ; her failings, if she had any, were forgotten. 
 
 The partisans of the new school who were most anxious to 
 see Mademoiselle Rachel its representative, undaunted by the 
 little success of her performance o^ Mademoiselle de Belle-Isle, 
 prevailed on her to appear in one of Victor Hugo's plays. 
 The drama chosen was " Angelo," and the two heroines were 
 personated by Mademoiselle Rachel and her sister Rebecca on 
 the 18th of May. The sisters had to contend with the recent 
 souvenirs of the gi'eatest comedienne of her age, ^lademoiselle 
 Mars, and the queen of the drama, Madame Dorval, who had 
 been brought together in the two antagonistic characters of 
 Tisbc and Catarina. 
 
 The strongly-marked i-6le of Tishc, the violent passions that 
 agitate her, love, rage, scorn, all carried to extremes, the pow- 
 erful situations to which the plot gives rise, were all admira- 
 bly suited to Mademoiselle Rachel's style and powers. Every 
 one of the qualities she possessed in their utmost degree of 
 perfection were called out here, and Tisbc became her best
 
 234 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 character in drama, as Phklre was her finest in tragedy. She 
 completely retrieved what she had lost in public opinion by 
 Mademoiselle de Belle-Isle. The description given of her on 
 this occasion by Theophile Gautier is too vivid, too graphic 
 to be omitted where the aim is to paint Mademoiselle Eachel 
 in so imjaortant a part. 
 
 " One of Mademoiselle Eachel's great qvialities is that she 
 gives so plastic a realization of the character she represents. 
 In Phcdre she is a Greek princess of the heroic ages, in Tishe she 
 personates an Italian courtesan of the sixteenth century. There 
 can be no mistake ; sculpture and painting could do no more. 
 This graphic embodiment of the idea exercises a despotic in- 
 fluence on the audience the instant she appears. In tragedy 
 she seems a figure detached from a has relief of Phidias ; in 
 drama a Titian or a Bronzino descended from its frame. The 
 illusion is complete. She is a great artiste as well as a great 
 actress. Even her beauty is endowed with the most astonish- 
 ing flexibility ; at one time you have before you a sculptured 
 hueless marble, at another a warm Venetian painting. She 
 takes the coloiuug of the sphere in which she is to move : un- 
 der the antique colonnade, a statue ; under the renaissance 
 ceiling, the richly-tinted portrait. Between the scene and the 
 actress the harmony is always perfect." 
 
 The acting was no less truthfully described than the exter- 
 nal appearance. The graceful indifierence with which she 
 listens to the j^odesta's laments, leading him ever away from 
 the goal he seeks to reach, was extremely unaffected. An 
 excellent piece of acting also was the scene where she narrates 
 how her mother, the poor, friendless woman who sang ?«o?-- 
 laque songs on the public squares, was set free as she was be- 
 ing led to execution on the charge of having uttered seditious 
 stanzas against the serene republic of Venice — set free on the 
 intercession of a lovely child, who begged of a senator, her 
 father, that the hapless vagrant's life might be spared. She 
 ran on with a cai'eless haste, as though relating it on com- 
 pulsion to one incapable of understanding her feelings, yet be- 
 neath the rapid, hurried utterance there was an almost pain- 
 fully intense depth of feeling. In the manner in which she 
 answers evasively the suspicious interrogations of the tyrant,
 
 MEMOmS OF RACHEL. 235 
 
 there was the ease of the thorough-bred lady and the skill of 
 the finished actress. With true feminine impetuosity she runs 
 back to tell Rodrigo — oh, nothing — only that " she loves him !" 
 The feline grace, the playfid coquetry with which she obtains 
 the key — the key, on which depend several lives — from the 
 modesta, was as much admired by some as it was criticised by 
 others, in whose memories the perfect acting of Mademoiselle 
 Mars Avas still fresh, and who thought, not without reason, 
 there were words that never would be spoken again as they 
 ' had been by her lips ; for instance, the whispered cry of 
 ^' jmutTe feJiune /" One of the gi'eat scenes, if one can be singled 
 out where all are fine, is that of the struggle between the two 
 representatives of two great classes of modern society, when 
 the virtuous woman and the courtesan are brought tosrether, 
 and the latter, having at last the mastery, tears her victim 
 with the pitiless fangs of a hyena. Here, irony and insult on 
 one side, terror on the other, are carried to their extremest 
 limits. The oppressed one is free : tfle worm has turned, the 
 disinherited rides on the neck of the oppressor. All the long- 
 endured shame, the contumely and scorn heaped upon those 
 pariahs of humanity, the implacable ferocity long dormant in 
 those trampled hearts, vibrated in the voice of the actress. 
 The condemned strikes the executioner, the criminal sentences 
 the judge ! 
 
 None but Hugo, that great star hurled from his high estate 
 by blind vanity and senseless ambition, could have given so 
 splendid, so terrific, so sublime a piclure of the courtesan 
 trampling to earth the really innocent Avife who has robbed 
 her of her lover. She turns the knife in the wound. And 
 when the crucifix catches her eyes, when she forces the long- 
 sought truth from the trembling victim, how completely dis- 
 armed and powerless stands the tigress, so cruelly triumphant 
 but a moment since. The resignation with which the untu- 
 tored child of love sacrifices her passion and her life to her 
 lover's happiness, to gratitude, is truly sublime. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel was charged with overdoing her part ; 
 of reminding the spectator of Orestes pursued by the Furies ; 
 of seeking to irritate Eodolfo with a violence which, if he knew 
 any thing of the heart of woman, should have brought him to
 
 236 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 his senses. She incites, provokes, and hurries him to the com- 
 mission of the deed. Mademoiselle Mars, on the contrary, 
 led liodolfo to strike her by the most provoking calmness. 
 Mademoiselle Rachel made it plain that she wished to be 
 killed, and instantly. Mademoiselle Mars, even while accus- 
 ing herself of the atrocious crime that is to rouse the lover to 
 blind fury, trembled, hesitated, and, as she rea^/r/ wished to 
 die, was careful not to excite the suspicion that might thwart 
 her fatal design. 
 
 It was, however, scarcely just to institute a comparison be- 
 tween the sJdll of Mademoiselle Rachel and that of the most 
 consummate actress that had ever trod those boards. Made- 
 moiselle Mars attained perfection in her art by long years of 
 experience and constant practice. She left nothing to chance, 
 nothing to accident, but, by a diligent study of the work in 
 all its bearings, continually sought the intention of the author. 
 
 " Angelo" derived additional interest from the fact that the 
 two sisters played the two rivals. Rebecca lacked not tender- 
 ness — her acting I'evealed great depth of feeling — there was, 
 perhaps, too unreserved, too free a display of it, to suit the 
 part of the noble patrician dame who, even in the most trying 
 moments, in the most passionate scenes, never gives way to 
 her emotion with unguarded, unresdtved freedom. 
 
 On the 19th of June Mademoiselle Rachel created the part 
 of the heroine of Monsieur Ponsard's little one-act play, 
 " Plorace et Lydie." The acceptation " Le Moineau de Les- 
 bie" had met with probably induced the champion of the 
 classic school to try his hand at a similar bit of modernized 
 antiquity. The theme of this little piece is the world-old- 
 ever-new one of a love-quarrel. It is charmingly written ; it 
 reads delightfully ; but on the stage it is dull, flat, lifeless, and 
 insipid beyond measure. It is, perhaps, not to be regretted 
 that it proved an utter failure, as its success would indubita- 
 bly have brought before the public of the nineteenth century 
 all the coui'tesans of ancient Greece and Rome, in addition to 
 the modern Lamias and Pluynes Avhich the bad taste of the 
 present generation tolerates on the stage. 
 
 Pauline — the chaste Pauline, metamorphosed a second time 
 into a Roman " Dame aux Camelias," sustained neither the
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 237 
 
 character nor the piece. The chief attraction of this attempt 
 to portray such scenes of Roman private life as good taste 
 would wish banished from the boards, was the style of cos- 
 tume which in one of the lady's attitudes revealed more of the 
 leg than is usually exhibited. 
 
 This year the conge of Mademoiselle Rachel lasted four 
 months, during which she performed in London, in Hamburg, 
 in IJerlin, in Dresden, in Potsdam. " Le Moincau de Lesbie" 
 and " Polyeucte" were performed " by command" before the 
 Prussian court, the Count de Chambord being also present. 
 The queen condescended to send for Mademoiselle Rachel, 
 whom she complimented very highly. 
 
 The King of Prussia never missed a performance, going 
 sometimes alone to his logc. He seemed particularly to en- 
 joy the after-pieces, laughing as heartily at the fun contained 
 in them as any bon bourgeois de Paris could have done. 
 
 When the company of a theatre is called to play before the 
 court, each member gets a " gratification" of a hundred francs. 
 In preceding reigns the actors of the Theatre Franrais were 
 the only ones ever admitted to act at the court of France. 
 The present emperor has had the companies of nearly all the 
 theatres called in succession to play at court. 
 
 The Germans testify their approbation by frequent recall- 
 ing of the actors. Li Vienna Mademoiselle Rachel was re- 
 called one night seventeen times, another nineteen, a third 
 twenty-one ! 
 
 It was during this excursion through Germany that Made- 
 moiselle Rachel gave another proof of the respect for family 
 ties we have mentioned as characterizing her in an eminent 
 degree. 
 
 An old woman, dressed in the Sunday garb of the lower 
 classes, made inquiry at the hotel where the celebrated actress 
 was stopping, saying that she had been told her niece, Made- 
 moiselle Rachel Felix, was there, and she wished to see her. 
 She was referred to Rose, the waiting-maid, who took her in 
 to her mistress. Far from manifesting the annoyance of a 
 imrvenu at this claim of I'elationship put forth by one in such 
 poor circumstances, the niece was extremely kind to her 
 peasant aunt, made her stop and dine with her, and invited
 
 238 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 her to be with her while she was in town, and when she left 
 settled upon her a sum which, in that country, was amply 
 sufficient to make her comfortable for her life. 
 
 Another instance of the respect exacted by the parents even 
 of this daughter, of whom, at the same time, they were the 
 most obsequious flatterers, we will give in the words of the 
 narrator. Mademoiselle Aveuel. 
 
 ' " We were at this epoch in Berlin, and Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel, wishing to present some souvenir^ of her gratitude to the 
 Princess Chai-lotte of Prussia, concluded that the most appro- 
 priate thing, as well as the most likely to please the august 
 lady who honored her with her patronage, was a very magnifi- 
 cent copy of Erailie Augiei-'s ' Diane,' a unique copy pre- 
 sented to Rachel by the author, and containing on the fly- 
 leaf some complimentary stanzas to herself. A note was to 
 accompany this envoi, and to assist in inditing with due brev- 
 ity and respect the important epistle, I was called into coun- 
 cil. While thus engaged. Mademoiselle Rachel, requiring the 
 services of a servant, requested her mother to ring the bell. 
 The old lady arose for that purpose, but not as quickly as 
 the impatient daughter thought necessary, and the latter re- 
 iterated rather pei'emptorily, ' Mais sonnez done, ma mere.' 
 The old lady stopped short, and, altering her course toward 
 the door, left the room, saying, with the offended dignity of a; 
 duchess, ' Sonnez vous meme, ma fille.' Rachel made no 
 reply, but when the note was dispatched, hastened to her 
 mother's room to apologize, and entreat her forgiveness of 
 her imperious behavior." 
 
 This was certainly a strange family. Whenever any thing 
 occurred to interrupt the harmony between the sisters, they 
 would give way to the most furious and uncontrolled passion, 
 which they vented in every bitter and fierce expression that 
 came uppermost. The only one who always preserved a cer- 
 tain dignity, even in her most angry moods, was Rachel ; the 
 most violent and inconsiderate was Sarah. When any dis- 
 pute between Rachel and the other members of the family 
 occurs, it is finally made up by the gift of some trinket — 
 good temper and concord must be repurchased by the richer 
 one.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 239 
 
 But in illness and misfortune, on any real occasion of grief 
 or need, no devotion can be more complete than that shown 
 by all the other members of the family to the afflicted one. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 1851. 
 
 State of Theatricals in 1851. — Despotic Influence of Stars and its bane- 
 ful Results. — Dramatic Authors manufacturers to order. — "Valeria." 
 — Conge of five Months and a half — Italy. — Successor of Saint Peter 
 and the Children of Israel. — Rebecca. 
 
 The year 1851, to which the coup cCctat that took place at 
 its close has given such historical importance, was not favor- 
 able to the drama. Society, shaken to its foundations in 
 1848, had had breathing time in 1849, and more especially 
 in 1850; but its state at that epoch was one of transition, 
 and could not be of long duration. The Presidential Repub- 
 lic was but a temporary possibility, that afforded a sort of 
 truce to all parties, but all were alike impatient for its cessa- 
 tion. Each, ambitious of pre-eminence and anticipating the 
 victory^ watched its antagonists, weighed its own strength, 
 and awaited the opportunity to offer battle and obtain the 
 mastery. The wounds inflicted by the Revolution of 1848 
 were not yet healed; the penury that had been its conse- 
 quence had not yet ceased ; few could yet command that 
 overplus Avhich is usually devoted to procuring amusements. 
 Minds were too much preoccupied with considerations of vital 
 importance to afford room for literature or theatricals. Anx- 
 iety for the future and the uneasiness arising from the unset- 
 tled state of politics absorbed every thought. The only thea- 
 tres that possessed any attraction were those that gave plays 
 containing allusions and political satires. These, indeed, were 
 crowded, and the applause with which such plays wei'e re- 
 ceived was loud, tumultuous, and prolonged. It was quite a 
 relief to be able in public, and in common, to ridicule, hiss, 
 and laugh at all the crazy ideas, all the paradoxical absurdi- 
 ties, all the dangerous systems, from the ruinous and subver- 
 sive application of which so narrow an escape had been made.
 
 240 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Plays of this description, however, were not within the 
 limits of the Theatre Fran^ais : they belonged to the jurisdic- 
 tion of the minor theatres, among which, for this class of per- 
 formances, the Vaudeville took the lead. No other theatre 
 made as good use of the sceptre of Momus, or applied it so 
 wittily and lustily on the crackbrained pates of the day. 
 Among the many pieces of this style suggested by late events, 
 two were particularly excellent of their kind : " La Propriete 
 c'cst le Vol," and " Les Trois Parties de la Foire aux Idees." 
 Frivolous as these works may be deemed, not to mention the 
 powerful influence they had on public opinion would be an 
 omission in the history of the great effects that have resulted 
 from petty causes. Their light sapngs and piquant epigrams 
 aroused the dormant good sense of the people; their witty 
 sai-casms gave rise to serious reflections ; and as each specta- 
 tor retired to his home, he felt grieved and ashamed that he 
 should have been the dupe and the victim of so many follies. 
 
 In the mean time, the The'atre Franrais, deprived of the re- 
 source of chanting the " Marseillaise," was reduced to its mas- 
 ter-pieces, the beauties of which the public had neither time 
 nor inclination to appreciate. The receipts were by no means 
 brilliant. During this year there was not one reviMil from 
 the rich old classic i^cpertonj, and but one creation that might 
 be called a two-fold one^ but which was as unfortunate as it 
 was singular. Like almost all deformities, this monstrous 
 conception scarcely outlived its birth. 
 
 Criticism this year took no notice whatever of Mademoiselle 
 Rachel save on the occasion of this strange innovation intro- 
 duced to attract the notice of the public. It succeeded in 
 momentarily dispelling the lethargic indifference manifested 
 toward her, but not exactly in the way she would have chosen. 
 
 There is a rock that fortunate and successful ambition sel- 
 dom avoids, and which eventually proves its ruin — a rock on 
 which celebrities of all kinds arc too frequently wrecked : that 
 rock is the exaggeration of their own personality by the ab- 
 sorption of all surrounding objects. When talent of a supe- 
 rior order has become so blinded by vanity that it has the 
 most utter contempt for its atmosphere, and decrees an apothe- 
 osis to its own merits, it is infallibly a premonitory sign of a
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. . 241 
 
 decline in public opinion; disinterested admiration retires ; the 
 new divinity disdains the homage of simjDle, truthful faith ; 
 the votaries attached by interest alone surround the altar and 
 form a solitary group. If one of these satellites fall away, the 
 voluntary exile becomes a dangerous €nemy ; no bitterness can 
 equal that of the apostate against his former creed. 
 
 Thus did it happen in the world of art of which Mademoi- 
 selle Rachel was the centre and the queen. She attempted 
 with her comrades, with the public, with the press, to exert a 
 crushing despotism — she created around her the most com- 
 plete solitude. Toward the close of her career she had alien- 
 ated a number of the partisans she had had among the mem- 
 bers of the press, and consequently a portion of the public. 
 Sundry of her acts during the last few years had been stamp- 
 ed with that excessive egotism that has its source in vain^lo- 
 rious blindness, producing seliish forgetfulness, or disregard of 
 social ties and social duties. 
 
 These errors of the heart had made numerous enemies, of 
 whose hostility and power she was not ignorant, as will be 
 shown hereafter in one of her own letters to M. Legouve. 
 
 It can not be denied that her arbitrary manner toward the 
 Theatre Fran^ais ; her voyages to Russia and to America — the 
 first when France was on the point of a rupture with that 
 country ; the second undertaken at the time of the Exposition 
 Universelle, when France was enjoying with legitimate pride 
 the pleasure of displaying her treasures of art and industry to 
 the admiring eyes of foreign nations — each time at epochs and 
 under circumstances that made them doubly distasteful to the 
 public that had been her kind and constant patron throughout 
 her career — all these errors of tact had thrown a shadow on her 
 reputation as an artiste, and given a bad opinion of her heart. 
 
 All the petty hates — the brooding, impotent desires for re- 
 venge amassed in many hearts, smarting under some injustice, 
 some long-remembered insult, eagerly embraced the opportu- 
 nity of revenge the arrival of Madame Ristori subsequently 
 afforded them, well knowing that every leaf added to her ri- 
 val's ci'own would be looked upon by the jealous Jewess as 
 taken from her own ; that every token of approbation to the 
 foreign star was a stab to that selfish cosmopolitan. 
 
 L
 
 242 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 But we anticipate on the yet unnarrated epoch of that total 
 eclipse. Suffice it for the present that we have shown the 
 reason why such plays as "Valeria" and " Rosemonde" came 
 to be received by the once severe comite de lecture of the most 
 enlightened and most severe stage in the world. Under such 
 a regime, the coulisses of the theatre necessarily became a sort 
 of little Bourse, the feuilletons of criticism became bills of ex- 
 change, dramatic authors manufacturers to order, and the la- 
 bors of intellect manufactured goods. 
 
 To this class of produce does " Valei'ia" belong. This drama, 
 in five acts and in verse, the joint production of Messieux's 
 August Maquet and Jules Lacroix, was constructed as a sort 
 of pedestal on which the idol might be exhibited on high in 
 two characters — as a tragedienne and a cantah-ice — two very 
 opposite roles, and the last very inappropriate to the purpose 
 the authors wished to carry out — the glorification of Made- 
 moiselle Eachel. The performance, notwithstanding the real 
 talent and the endeavors of the actress, was a dead failure. 
 She had demanded the lion's share — she had it in the non- 
 success. 
 
 This drama, historical only in the names of the personages, 
 and purely of invention as to the incidents and plot, pertains, 
 with regard to the latter point, to that class of romances of 
 which, under the jiseudomjme of Alexander Dumas, M. Maquet 
 has been one of the most indefatigable and fertile producers. 
 
 The method most frequently made use of by these innova- 
 ting historians is the rehabilitation of their heroes in the very 
 teeth of contradictory historical facts. Authoritative docu- 
 ments are summarily set aside, and their place is usurped by 
 absurd fancies, gratuitous hypotheses, and outrageous inven- 
 tions, entirely at variance with time-consecrated tradition — 
 Livy, Tacitus, and Juvenal are thrust aside, and peremptorily 
 silenced by these modern remodelers of ancient dramatis per- 
 sonce. 
 
 " Valeria" is, after all, but a very long paradox, full of an 
 affectation of erudition, the plot being that of a melo-drama 
 halting on historical crutches. The language is versified prose. 
 
 A hemistich of Juvenal in his satire, " Titulum mentita 
 Lysicaj," accuses Messalina of having, under a borrowed name,
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 243 
 
 pei'ambulated the streets of Rome at night. Did the poet 
 adopt too lightly the malicious slanders of the chroniquc tcan- 
 daleiise, or was it in the name of rigid, inflexible truth that he 
 stigmatized the imperial courtesan ? What has remained an 
 unsolved question so many centuries might still be left a doubt 
 for future generations ; but surely there is no cause why the 
 contrary supposition should be warmly supported against the 
 authority of the Latin poet, and without the coxToborative 
 testimony of a single line in the ancients. 
 
 The best proof that the authors were somewhat dubious of 
 the reception their whitewashed heroine would meet from the 
 public was that they dared not present her under her Avell- 
 known name — the name that has descended to us as the syn- 
 onym of every thing utterly and irretrievably vicious in woman, 
 as the name of the proverbially infamous creature that was 
 depraved among the depraved ; so foul, indeed, that she added 
 a darker stain to the throne whose seat was desecrated by the 
 imbecility of a Claude, whose steps supported a Narcissus, a 
 Pallas, parvenus of favor, freedmen who had earned their court 
 promotion, not by talent, like Horace, but by villainous pan- 
 dering to vice and the ready espionage of the moment. They 
 dared not call her Messaline ; they chose her less-known ap- 
 pellation of Valeria, and under this title she has undergone a 
 complete transfiguration ; they made this creature of their own 
 invention, if not a vpstal, at least the friend of Elia, a priest- 
 ess of Vesta on whose bosom her immaculate spirit takes flight. 
 
 To facilitate this startling assertion, the authors have made 
 use of a modern invention. Valeria, the empress, has a sis- 
 ter, Lysisca, who is in exterior appearance exactly her counter- 
 part, while in morals she is diametrically her opposite. This 
 sister, forsaken in her infancy, has become the most notorious 
 courtesan in the Roman empire ; her beauty, her adventures, 
 are the common talk. Valeria, the imperial sister, chaste, 
 noble-minded, generous, and compassionate as she is fair, is 
 guided in all she does by maternal ambition. She is unceas- 
 ingly devising the means of foiling the intrigues oi Agriiipina, 
 her husband's niece, who seeks to raise her own son Domitius 
 — afterward Nero — to power at the expense of Britannicus, 
 the son of Valeria.
 
 244 IHEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 
 
 The rival mothers find their pretensions supported by the 
 two freedmen. Pallas intrigues for Agrippina ; Narcissus 
 watches over the safety of the empress, prevents her falling 
 into the toils of her enemies, or rescues her when she has done 
 so. Each has his own interest ; ambition alone stimulates the 
 zeal of Pallas, ambition and love that of Narcissus. Thus the 
 latter, though seeking every means of securing the triumph of 
 Valeria, persecutes to the utmost of his power the only honest 
 man in the play, Silius, a young-old Roman, cut out on the 
 pattern of Corncille's heroes, and a very secondary role, al- 
 though meant to contrast with that of Claude. 
 
 The emperor himself divides with Mnesier, a dancer, the 
 favorite lover oiLysisca, the task of amusing the public. This 
 Claude, by the way, was a Frenchman, born in Lyons, the 
 first of his nation raised to the throne of the Ciesars, and it is 
 strange the authors should have chosen to bring in this weak, 
 pedantic, drunken buffoon, loading him, moreover, with all 
 the odium they could add to the character. Claude's hobby 
 is to be always judging causes : he judges Mnester because he 
 would not dance, Silius because he has in his portico busts of 
 Brutus and Cassius, but forgives him on Valeria's remark that 
 they are works of art which even he, the emperor, might be 
 willing to admire. Silius, however, has committed a more un- 
 pardonable crime. A letter, intercepted by Narcissus, is laid 
 before the emj^eror ; in this fatal epistle the stern young 
 Eoman, writing to his friend Cecina, has said that "folly 
 united to crime" occupied the imperial throne. Silius, con- 
 demned to the lions, kills the monster that was to devour him, 
 and is taken to his own house merely wounded. It seems he 
 had seen Lysisca and mistaken her for the empress, and hence 
 his cruel remark. Cecina, his friend, falls into the same er- 
 ror ; and all the dr-amatis persona;, whether unintentionally or 
 maliciously, committing the same mistake from beginning to 
 end of the five acts, the result is the most irretrievable con- 
 fusion, the most intricate imhi'oglio conceivable, amid which 
 the few interesting situations and fine passages are quite lost. 
 
 The second act is unquestionably the least objectionable. 
 The scene passes in the dwelling of the wounded Silius, whose 
 friends are preparing his flight. Valeiia, taking the opportu-
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 245 
 
 nity of one of Claude's orgies, comes alone, and at night, to 
 justify herself to the only man whose esteem she deems wortli 
 possessing. She owns her love for him who slandered without 
 knowing her, and ends by asking tlie support of his strong 
 arm and influence with the people for her son, continually ex- 
 posed to perish by the manoeuvres of the opposite faction. It 
 never appears clearly whether the ruling passion is the mater- 
 nal ambition of the emjn^ess or the love of Valeria for Silius. 
 While virtuous and political speeches are interchanged in the 
 house of Silius, in the opposite dwelling Lysisca is entertaining 
 her lover, Mnester, in tlie street, Agripjnna and her spies are 
 on the watch, and Narcissus and his spies are letting them- 
 selves into the house of Silius through a private door. Lysis- 
 ca is arrested, to be used as a tool of Agrippina, and Valeria 
 is enabled, under the escort of Narcissus, to return to Mount 
 Palatine. 
 
 The remainder of the drama is a series of improbabilities. 
 In the absence of the empress, who is openly gone to Baia 
 under pretense of her son's health, but in reality to prepare a 
 revolution, the courtesan, Lysisca, and her lover, Mnester, are 
 brought into a room of the palace, where a splendid banquet 
 awaits them, and they are repeatedly told to " consider them- 
 selves at home." At first the worthy pair are somewhat 
 frightened as well as surprised, but finally, with the assist- 
 ance of several cups of the rich wines so temptingly placed 
 within their reach, the birds become accustomed to their 
 splendid cage, Lysisca especially gets so unconcerned, so 
 merry with the aforesaid help, that she indulges in a Baccha- 
 nalian song of an ultra-anacreontic taste. This scene has 
 been got up for the edification of Claude, who, drunk with 
 Hippornane, is brought by Agrippina to witness the scandalous 
 debauchery of the supposititious emj^ress, whom he imagined 
 on the way to Baia. In the effervescence of his horse-tipsy 
 rage he signs a deed of divorce, which has been drawn up in 
 readiness, and the sentence of death follows. But at that 
 moment the real Valeria, surrounded by her guards, makes 
 her appearance. The sottish emperor does not see her, for he 
 has just fallen asleep on the couch ; the bafiled conspirators 
 cnn not get him away, but manage to stab the dancer and
 
 246 MEMOIKS OF EACHEL. 
 
 hurry oflf Lysisca, who is kept by them for some future occa- 
 sion. Pallas had given orders for the assassination of the ein- 
 press at Baia, but the wary Narcissus had warned and made 
 her hasten back. 
 
 Valeria, triumphant, surrounded by the Generals Corhulon, 
 Plantius, and others, free by the act of divorce, is secure, for 
 she holds Claude prisoner, and has given orders that to her 
 alone he can be delivered. Valeria is going to reign, and with 
 her innocence and virtue. She is about to marry Silius, when 
 his friend Cecina arrives, and spoils every thing. Cecina 
 swears in the presence of the army and on the innocent head 
 of her child that the imperial Valeria is a common courtesan. 
 The rest may be easily guessed — the scandalized generals beat 
 a hasty retreat. Claude, delivered by Pallas, and Lysisca, 
 whom the guards mistake for the empress, is reinstated on the 
 throne, and sends a centurion to the forsaken Valeria with the 
 order for her death. Meanwhile tlie assassination and decap- 
 itation of Lysisca, accomplished by Agrippina and Pallas, ren- 
 der all ulterior justification impossible, and leave the memory 
 of the empressB blackened throughout all ages. This last 
 comforting news is told to Valeria by Narcissus, who finds out 
 the existence of the sister and her death at the same time. 
 The discovery is, however, very satisfactory to Silius, who 
 promises to survive the empress to publish the facts and clear 
 her fame. It is not very likely that Agrippina, who comes in 
 to enjoy her rival's death-pangs, will let him perform this 
 duty. The dying agony of Valeria is rendered ridiculous by 
 the absurd prophecy with which she curses her rival. 
 "Ton fils sera Neron, ton fils tuera sa mere !" 
 
 The two pens that worked on this drama are easily distin- 
 guishable ; the designer, who drew up the plan, and the poet, 
 who scattered here and thei-e some fine verses, that sparkle 
 amid the rubbish with which it is filled. Above all is dis- 
 tinctly apparent the imperious will of the actress, who exacted 
 that all the interest should centre in her part, and that the 
 other characters should be reduced to the most insignificant 
 proportions. In her eagerness to deprive every one else of 
 any share of success, she assumed the responsibility of a fail- 
 ure the most complete and irretrievable.
 
 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. . 247 
 
 The difficulty of representing two characters in which phys- 
 ical and moral attributes are so extraordinarily similar and 
 dissimilar, was enhanced by the obvious attempts the actress 
 made to establish a diftercnce. She spoke the part of Valeria 
 in a deep bass, and that oi Lysisca in her sharpest keys. The 
 effect produced by these alternate chest and head notes was 
 far from agreeable. As for the song, she had much better 
 have left that out altogether ; singing Avas not her forte, and 
 of all songs this certainly was in the worst taste. 
 
 This year Mademoiselle Rachel prolonged her conge to five 
 months and a half. She left Paris on the 31st of May, and, 
 after giving two performances in Boulogne, proceeded to Lon- 
 don, where she had secured a very profitable engagement for 
 two months. She received of Mr. Mitchell 10,000 francs for 
 twenty-five performances, fi'ec of all expense, even to that of 
 her hotel bills. 
 
 From England she returned to the Continent, and perform- 
 ed in the following towns : Antwerp, Brussels, Liege, Namur, 
 Cologne, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Pesth, Gratz, Lintz, Trieste, 
 Venice, Milan, Navarre, Turin, Genoa, Naples, Kome, Florence, 
 and Livourne, returning via Marseilles to Paris. She had been 
 extremely well received during this tour. Kaphael, who was 
 the manager of his sister's company, had made a preliminary 
 excursion, and prepared the way for her. At Turin the young 
 king placed at her disposal, free of expense, the Teatro Kegio, 
 which is always closed dui-ing the summer. Mademoiselle 
 Rachel had decidedly furthered her own interests when she 
 obtained a change in the administration that permitted of such 
 excursions. 
 
 It was reported that Avhcn Rachel was in Rome she had 
 been desirous of receiving baptism at the hands of the Holy 
 Father. She had been several times heard to announce her 
 determination to adopt Catholicism, but it is difficult to as- 
 certain if one so accustomed to play a part off as well as on 
 the stage was ever really sincere. She may, however, have 
 been so at the moment, under the powerful influence of certain 
 impi-essions. Hers was a very excitable nature, and it was 
 difficult for an artiste possessing to so high a degree the sense 
 of the grand and the beautiful not to be deeply struck with
 
 2-48 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 
 
 the solemnity, pomp, and splendor with which the Church 
 celebrates its mysteries. 
 
 We will not vouch for the truth of the report that Rachel 
 met, as hy chance — it having been previously arranged thus — 
 his holiness in the gardens of the Vatican, and, kneeling, avow- 
 ed her firm resolve to be a Christian.* But we have the au- 
 thority of an eye-witness of undoubted veracity for her behavior 
 on her return from her visit to St. Paul's and the Vatican. 
 She came into the room where her sister Rebecca and one 
 other person were sitting, and for some time remained mute 
 and absorbed in thought, walking up and down with knit 
 brow and abrupt, agitated gestures. When she spoke at last 
 it was to utter ejaculations of admipation and awe. To the 
 questions addressed to her she returned no direct answer, but 
 exclaimed in broken, disjointed phrases, " Yes, this is the true 
 faith. This is the God-inspired creed. None other could 
 have accomplished such works. Truly, I will be one of them 
 
 yet." 
 
 Rebecca heard this with intense indignation, and remon- 
 strated wath extreme warmth against the proposed apostasy, 
 repeating at intervals, as though to clinch her arguments, 
 " Oh, what would Sarah say ! Oh, how I wish Sarah were 
 here !" The temper of Sarah was dreaded by all the family, 
 and had its weight even on Rachel. 
 
 The witness of this singular scene was astonished at the 
 patience with which the elder sister endured the reproaches 
 of the younger. The tragedienne vouchsafed no reply, but, 
 throwing herself on the bed, remained there engrossed in her 
 own reflections. 
 
 The other members of the Felix family, though not j)rac- 
 ticers of its forms, are stanch adherents of their faith. Re- 
 becca had much of Rachel's serious, contemplative turn of 
 mind. She never could understand a jest on certain subjects. 
 The female members of the company having gone to visit the 
 
 * However improbable this may appear, it is not more so than the 
 very recent presentation of a well-known Israelite banker, his wife and 
 daughter, to the vicegerent of Christ and successor of St. Peter. The 
 conversion of a soul was surely of more value than the probable bene- 
 fits of a railway.
 
 JIEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 219 
 
 Church of St. Jean dc Latcran, those who were Catholics un- 
 dertook the ascent of the stairs in the usual manner. An 
 ancient dame of very stout proportions preceded them, and 
 the aspect she presented to those behind her, as she crept 
 slowly up on her knees, was so exceedingly ludicrous, that, af- 
 ter sundry vain attempts to preserve a becoming gravity, the 
 young women found it impossible to suppress a titter. When 
 they reached the top, Rebecca, who had ascended the other 
 way, and had seen their untimely merriment, severely re- 
 proached them : 
 
 "AVere I a Christian," said she, "and performing an act I 
 deemed meritorious in the sight of my God, I would die rath- 
 er than indulge in such profane laughter!" 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 1852. 
 
 "Diane." — "Louise de Lignerolles." — Invitation from the King of 
 Prussia. — Severe Illness. — Homoeopathic Doctor. — Appearance at 
 the new Palace of Potsdam. — Presentation to the Empress of Russia. 
 — The Czar Nicholas and Mademoiselle Rachel. — Return to Paris. — 
 Prolongation of Life. — " Aspasie." — "Rosemonde." 
 
 On the 23d of February of this year Mademoiselle Rachel 
 appeared in the part o( Diane, in Emilie Augier's drama. The 
 greatest fault of this work is that its chief points are copied 
 from Victor Hugo's " Marian Delorme," with this difference, 
 that what are in the latter beauties, ai'e in the former defects. 
 The age — that of Louis XIII. — the subject — the edict against 
 dueling — several of the scenes and several of the personages, 
 present a striking resemblance. The charming Marian De- 
 lorme is spoiled by being metamorphosed into a very uninter- 
 esting spinster, and Didier, that splendid figure of romance, 
 into a hair-brained boy-brother. This evident imitation is 
 the more surprising, if it was intentional, as M. Augier is a 
 partisan of the classic school, and, consequently, no admirer 
 of the great innovator. 
 
 Between the talent of the two authors and the respective 
 merits of their works no comparison can be established. Even 
 
 L 2
 
 250 MEMOIKS Of RACHEL. 
 
 were the drama of M. Augier cut out in as masterly a style 
 as that of Victor Hugo, it -would yet lack the magnificent 
 poetry in which the latter has arrayed his story. 
 
 Notwithstanding the imitation that appears in the very 
 first act, the play of " Diane" opens well. The heroine and 
 her brother are the descendants of an ancient house, shorn of 
 its former splendor, and reduced to so low an ebb that Diane, 
 who is the elder, is compelled to resort to all the expedients 
 of proud poverty to maintain her beloved and only brother in 
 his rank and station. The youth, the last male of a long 
 line of nobles, is the object of the most affectionate and 
 watchful solicitude on the part of the fair young mother-sis- 
 ter. It is midnight, and, late as is the hour, Diane and Par- 
 mejon, a faithful old follower — a sort of Caleb Balderstone — 
 are busily engaged making a doublet for the heir. The good 
 old man gives a very pretty enumeration of the divers trades 
 and callings he has exercised in behalf of the beloved boy. 
 
 " Que de metiers il m'a fait faire le jeune homme !" 
 
 The illustrious pair is suddenly startled by the irruption of 
 four young gallants, Messieurs de Pienne, de Boissy, de Fargy, 
 and de Cruas, in pursuit of a fair maiden. Marguerite, who, on 
 her way from midnight mass, was going to the Hotel dc 
 Eohan. A young girl of respectable parentage treading the 
 streets of Paris at that hour and alone, when we have it, on 
 the authority of Boileau, that thirty years later the streets of 
 the capital of the most civilized country in the world were, at 
 eight o'clock in the evening, des coupe gorges, shows bad 
 choice of hours, at all events. The first act goes roundly to 
 work, for in this scene we have the lady whose house has 
 been so unceremoniously invaded, falling in love with one of 
 the wretches whom she has just — and very properly^ordered 
 out, and the -n-retch, J/, de Pienne, at once reciprocates. M. 
 Paul, the brother, who makes his entree through the balcony, 
 falls in love Avith the errant demoiselle, who is no less sudden- 
 ly impressed in his favor. The scene between old Parmejon 
 and young De Pienne is full of energy. The aged senitor 
 draws his sword to repel the insolent intruder, who, in deri- 
 sion, affects to parry merely with his cane. Diane stops the
 
 3IKM0IRS OF EACHEL. 251 
 
 unequal combat, and the noblemen, admiring her divinity, re- 
 spectfully apologize and retire, hat in hand. The kindly ex- 
 postulations of the sister with her too flighty brother are very 
 sweetly written, and, indeed, the whole of this act is lively 
 and replete with interest. 
 
 The second act contains what is intended for the main sub- 
 ject, the groundwork of the whole drama — a conspiration 
 against the hero of the day, Cardinal de Richelieu. In " Ma- 
 rion Delorrae," Victor Hugo has also chosen this great per- 
 sonage as the Fate in whose powerful grasp the threads of all 
 these petty existences are held. He also raised an altar to 
 that great genius, but — and there is the greatest proof of his 
 superiority — he left the idol behind the veil. In Hugo's play, 
 Richelieu never appears in person ; he is every where felt ; he 
 is seen nowhere ; he moves all the wires ; the dramatis per- 
 sonce arc, by their own showing, but the puppets of his will. 
 The other had his choice of two great symbols, Louis XIII. 
 and Richelieu ; he chose the king for the material image, and 
 the cardinal for the presiding genius — the will. 
 
 ' ' Et que clit de la cour le roi ? 
 Le carcUnal n'est pas content du tout ! 
 
 Le roi se porte bien sans doute ? 
 Non pas ! le cardinal a la fie\Te ou la goutte." 
 
 The cardinal is the main-spring, the soul of all things ; the 
 very omission of any visible presence imparts a mysterious 
 awe to the most seemingly insignificant things overshadowed 
 by his influence. 
 
 But M. Augier was of opinion that he could not have too 
 many great personages figuring ostensibly on his canvas, and 
 boldly laid hands on both — the timid, wavering, passive, mel- 
 ancholy monarch, and liis energetic, iron-willed, stern minister. 
 The conspiracy itself is a sort of child's play, neither exciting 
 nor interesting ; there is no justifiable hatred, no well-ground- 
 ed motive ; those engaged in it play at conspiracy as they 
 would at lans(fienet, merely as a pastime. Why or how they 
 mean to kill the cardinal, they do not seem to know. None 
 of the conspirators are at all thinking of their enterprise. The 
 Duchess de Rohan, who lends her house to their meetings, is 
 solely thinking of M. de Pienne; M. de Pienne of Diane ; M.
 
 252 MEMOmS OF RACHEL. 
 
 de Fargy and M. de Boissy are little else than supernumeraries. 
 As for Marguerite's father, the fourth plotter, he is a carica- 
 ture with whom no man in his senses would risk his head. 
 
 In this second act we are at the duchess's hotel, where all 
 the personages save the king, his minister, and his minister's 
 minister, Laffemas, are pi-esent. The duchess, who has been 
 solicited by her god-daughter, Margtierite, to interfere to pre- 
 vent her marriage with M. de Cruas, to whom her father has 
 promised her, the duchess tells De Cruas no gallant gentleman 
 would wish to obtain a lady's hand against her will. De Cru- 
 as, piqued, replies he has no desire to marry a coureuse de nuit. 
 Paid sti'ikes the insolent noble across the face with his glove. 
 Here is an evident copy of the second act of " Marion De- 
 lorme" — a provocation and a duel. Even the name of Marion 
 herself is introduced in the conversation in very much the 
 same manner as it is in Victor Hugo's drama. 
 
 The duel takes place between the acts, and Paul wounds 
 or kills De Cruas, who is seen no more. The second act has 
 some excellent scenes, though Mademoiselle Diane, in her anx- 
 ious solicitude for her brother, shows rather more knowledge 
 of the sword-exercise than befits the character of a fair and 
 modest young gentlewoman in an age when women had not 
 yet learned to glory in the possession of manly accomplish- 
 ments. There is something very ridiculous and unseemly in 
 this jargon of the fencing-school issuing from the rosy lips of 
 a true woman. 
 
 In the third act of " Diane," as in the third act of " Marion 
 Delorme," we have the presence of the cardinal's right hand 
 — the terrible M. de Laffemas using his cunning to worm out 
 the secret of young Paul's retreat — hunting the duelists in 
 both dramas. M. de Picnne has concealed the brother of his 
 secretly-beloved Diane in a recess of the wall in his own apart- 
 ment. The sister goes to see Paul, and in so doing compro- 
 mises his life and her own honor, for she is traced to De 
 Pienne's hotel by the jealous duchess and the blood-hound 
 Laffemas. The duchess attributes the presence of Diane to 
 love for De Pienne ; the astute chef de police draws the infer- 
 ence that her brother is concealed there. Laffemas threatens 
 to destroy the hotel to the very foundations, and Diane, to
 
 MKMOIUS OF RACHEL. 253 
 
 save her brother, heroically declares she is De Pienne's mis- 
 tress. 
 
 We will not cavil at the forgctfulncss of the author, who 
 makes Paul complain to De Picime, when they are alone, that 
 he can hear nothing in his hiding-place, and then shortly after 
 brings him out of it because he has heard the discussion, and 
 will not accept his sister's sacrifice of her good name. 
 
 We have now reached the fourth act, in which the com- 
 parison between the two dramas is unavoidable from begin- 
 ning to end. In the one, Marion goes to solicit her lover's 
 pardon of the king ; in the other, Diane craves her brothei-'s 
 of the cardinal minister. 
 
 By the way, when 31. de Pienne says to Diane, "This is 
 the king's closet," why should Diane question if it is that of 
 the King of France ? There is but one king there. 
 
 In both dramas the king is in black, the king is sad, the 
 king has the spleen. 
 
 Diane, from behind a curtain, witnesses a scene between the 
 king and the cardinal. Struck with the greatness of soul, the 
 vast intellect of this sole prop and pillar of a kingdom, she 
 determines to save him from the blow that threatens him. 
 The time appointed by the conspirators is when the cardinal 
 goes on a visit to Monsieur, the king's brother. Diane ab- 
 ruptly exclaims, " Go not to Monsieur's !" When Richelieu in- 
 quires what prompts her to warn him, and why she seeks to 
 save the man who is about to take the life of her young broth- 
 er, she replies that " she devotes herself to the state." The car- 
 dinal insists on knowing the particulars, who ? how ? when ? 
 where ? why ? Her brother's head is to be the forfeit if she 
 refuses to betray the names of the conspirators. In the end, 
 the minister relents, and grants the young man's pardon with- 
 out condition ; but he is no less determined to find out what 
 he wants to know some other way. 
 
 In the fifth act Paul marries Marguerite. The Duchess de 
 Rohan, still jealous of Diane, breaks open a will made by De 
 Pienne when in danger of losing his head, and finds out what 
 Diane herself has hitherto ignored, his love for the latter. 
 Every obstacle is destroyed ; the lovers are going to be happy, 
 when the terrible mar-joy, Laffemas, comes in and sets all
 
 254 MEMOIKS OF EACHEL. 
 
 wrong again. Diane, frightened by the black looks of the 
 cardinal's emissary, guesses his errand, and, to save De Pienne, 
 declares he is indifferent to her — she does not love him — she'll 
 take her share of life's happiness in the love of her brother's 
 children : 
 
 " Je vais etre grand mere !" 
 
 A lame and impotent conclusion. 
 
 Sum total : Very little love-making — very little ambition 
 — no powerful passions — a pale reflection of Victor Hugo's 
 genius. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel wore a costume designed by Meisson- 
 nier with the faithfulness and good taste that distinguishes 
 that painter. But, however elegant her dress, it was not 
 nearly as becoming to the actress as her antique draperies, or 
 even the fanciful and rich dress of the Venetian courtesan, 
 Tisbe. Two or three of the passages of this rule, so very un- 
 suited to her style, were spoken with her grand energy and pas- 
 sion, but there was no room for her powers. She was cramped 
 and evidently out of her sphere in this tame, unmeaning frame- 
 work. 
 
 On the 6tli of May Mademoiselle Rachel made another un- 
 fruitful excursion in the domains of Mademoiselle Mars. She 
 appeared in the great comedienne's creation of " Louise de 
 Lignerolles." This drama in five acts, the joint production 
 of Messrs. Prosper Dimaux and Ernest Legouve, was first 
 brought out in 1838, and was very successful. The revival 
 by Rachel this year was hardly noticed by the press, so com- 
 plete was her failure. 
 
 Her summer conge was marked by one of the most brilliant 
 triumphs of her career. She had been invited by the King 
 of Prussia to visit his court, and, although sufi'ering from a 
 painful nervous affection that left her no I'est, she resolved 
 to achieve the journey. 
 
 It required no less than the determined will, of which Ra- 
 chel had given so many proofs in conquering fatigue on for- 
 mer occasions, to carry her through on this one. This illness 
 was, with the exception of the one of which she died, the most 
 severe she ever had. Deprived of sleep, of appetite, consumed 
 by a slow fever, troubled with fearful hallucinations, that
 
 MEMOIRS OP RACHEL. 2o5 
 
 brought with them suicidal ideas, she arrived in Brussels com- 
 pletely exhausted. Yet, notwithstanding this prostration of 
 mind and body, she played with even more than her usual ani- 
 mation and fire, sustained by a feverish and dangerous nervous 
 excitement, which imparted a momentary power, for which 
 she paid dearly when the play was over. Great would have 
 been the terror and admiration of the uninitiated spectator, 
 who, after witnessing one of the performances that electrified 
 her audiences, could have seen her, the Circe, but a moment 
 before so powerful, so imperious, so fascinating, now so ex- 
 hausted, so breathless, so nearly lifeless, carried off in the 
 arms of her maids to the sleepless bed she was to leave but to 
 be brought back to make the same efforts with a like result. 
 
 In one of the too numerous letters she either dictated or 
 wrote, Kachel herself mentions this state of over-excitement. 
 
 " The public, the foot-lights, Father Corneille, and even my 
 own costume, impart a fictitious strength which enables me 
 to act my part ; that done, I am again powerless, and often 
 remain sunk in melancholy until the next performance." 
 
 It was under such disheartening circumstances that she 
 gave four performances in Brussels. While there, a circum- 
 stance occurred which was to rescue her from this terrible 
 state of suffering. The elder Count Lehon spoke to her in 
 such high terms of a doctor who had effected an extraordinary 
 cure in the case of one of his relatives, that Rachel, though 
 almost hopeless of relief, consented to see him. M. Varlez; 
 was a homoeopathic physician too, and the tragedienne had, on 
 a former occasion, experienced great benefit from the pre- 
 scription of one of his confreres. After a thorough examina- 
 tion of the case, the disciple of Hahnemann undertook the cure, 
 if the invalid Avould promise the strictest observance of his 
 injunctions. The mode of communication being settled, she 
 continued her journey. A friend who Avas with her had un- 
 dertaken to write and forward to M. Varlez daily and circum- 
 stantial bulletins of the symptoms and effect of the treatment 
 to which she Avas subjected. The physician returned minute 
 instructions and prescriptions. 
 
 This singular treatment by post eventually effected a cure, 
 though the progress toward it was slow. There was even at
 
 25.6 iviEMOms OF eacuel. 
 
 Aix-la-ChapcUe so severe a crisis, predicted, however, by the 
 doctor, that her Ufe was thought in danger. 
 
 The intended journey to Berlin was countermanded, and the 
 tragedienne requested to go to Potsdam. 
 
 Tliis change in her movements gave rise to the most absurd 
 conjectures ; a poUtical mystery was attached to that which 
 had the most simple and natural explanation. The real cause 
 was the shortness of sojourn the Empress of Russia was to 
 make in her brother's dominions, and the state of her majes- 
 ty's health, which precluded her enduring the fatigue of pub- 
 lic /etes and receptions. It had, therefore, been decided that 
 whatever amusement was procured for the illustrious invalid 
 should be enjoyed enfamille in the retirement of the royal 
 residence. 
 
 On the 8th of July Rachel gave her first performance in 
 the new palace of Potsdam, appearing, as usual, in Camille. 
 
 On her aiTival at the palace, whither she had been sum- 
 moned early, the tragedienne found a sumptuous dinner await- 
 ing her. With a view to her honor, it had been arranged 
 that the scenic queen should dine only with such of her at- 
 taches as she chose to invite, while the secondary personages, 
 the small-fry of confidants, traitors, second-hand heroes, &c., 
 &c., were fed at a separate table. But Rachel had the good 
 taste to say she could not admit of such distinctions, adding 
 that on the eve of a great battle a good general should mess 
 with his soldiers. 
 
 As the performance was to take place late in the evening, 
 one of the royal carriages was placed at the tragedienne's dis- 
 posal, and the king's reader accompanied her on an excursion 
 round the chateau of Sans Souci. In the course of the drive 
 she met the Crown Prince and Prince Fre'derick of the Iseth- 
 erlands, who were profuse in their compliments. 
 
 In the evening, Camille, elate with hope and pride, played 
 with all the energy of which she was capable, and was greatly 
 admired. She was presented, by desire of her majesty, to the 
 Empress of Russia, who graciously said, "I have often re- 
 gretted, mademoiselle, the etiquette that forbids external to- 
 kens of approbation ; but, had it been otherwise, to-day we 
 could not have applauded, so great was our emotion." The
 
 MEMOIRS OP KACUEL. 257 
 
 King of Prussia was equally courteous, and all present seemed 
 greatly pleased. 
 
 A few days after, the Emperor Nicholas arrived at Pots- 
 dam, where he was to remain but two days, the last of which, 
 the 13th of Jul}-, was the birth-day of the empress. The 
 weather being too warm to permit of any enjoyment in salotis 
 blazing with lights, it was an-anged that the little fete should 
 take place in the open air, and that the tragedienne should 
 there give readings from her chief rules before the imperial and 
 royal families and their suites. The scene chosen was the 
 pretty little Isle of Peacocks. She gave several scenes from , 
 "Virginie," and all the second act of "Phedre," and scenes 
 from " Adrienne Lecouvreur." Her auiiust audience of crown- 
 ed heads testified enthusiastic approbation. The emperor as- 
 sured the tragedienne that she was greater even than her repu- 
 tation, and hoped she would give him the pleasure of seeing 
 her next in his own dominions. A hint of this invitation had 
 already been dropped by the empress. It will be seen that 
 the rendezvous was not forgotten on either side. 
 
 The Czar, when speaking of the tragedienne, was standing 
 before her chair. On her attempting to rise, he remarked 
 that her exertions must have fatigued her, and desired her to 
 remain seated. On her respectfully insisting, he took both 
 her hands and gently held her down, saying, " Bemain, made- 
 moiselle, I beg, unless you wish me to retire." 
 
 Such kindness and condescension from such quartei'S was 
 sufficient to turn wiser and steadier heads than that of the 
 young artiste whom talent had ennobled. But, in relating the 
 events of this proud day to the member of the press by whom 
 it was intended they should be repeated to the public, Eachel 
 made a remark that was altogether false. She wrote that 
 " never had one person been spoken to by so many emperors, 
 kings, princes, and princesses as she had been." Mademoi- 
 selle Eachel, elate with very pardonable vanity, forgot that 
 Talma, Madame Catalani, and other artists of distinguished 
 merit had been treated with equal consideration by many 
 crowned heads. Talma was admitted to the presence of the 
 greatest man that ever wore an imperial tiara, on a footing 
 of familiar intercourse that testified the personal esteem iu
 
 258 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 which he was held, and which was far more flattering than a 
 few passing compliments. 
 
 On the 14th Kachel performed in Potsdam " Phedre" and 
 "Le Moineau de Lesbie." After the performance the king 
 sent her, by the Comte de Redern, his chamberlain, 20,000 
 francs, a very munificent present, especially as the large Opera 
 House at Berlin had been granted to her free of expense for 
 six nights, and as she also had all the receipts. The Emperor 
 of Russia sent, through his aid-de-camp, Count Orlofifs, sub- 
 stantial tokens of his approbation in the shape of two magnifi- 
 cent opals, surrounded with diamonds, which the recipient 
 immediately estimated at their pecuniaiy wox'th at 10,000 
 francs. Other private persons followed the royal example, 
 and presents and dinners marked each day of her stay. 
 
 From Potsdam she resumed her tour, passing through Frank- 
 fort, Wiesbaden, Metz, Colmar, and Nancy, playing every where, 
 tliough unable to stand when off the stage, and traveUng from 
 place to place in a bed fitted up in the carriage. 
 
 At Strasbourg she suffered another severe crisis, less alarm- 
 ing, however, than that which overtook her in Aix-la-Chapelle. 
 The Princess of Prussia and the Grand-Duchess Stephanie of 
 Baden having invited her to come to them, she conquered in- 
 disposition and fatigue in order to reap the advantages com- 
 phance would bring. A flattering reception, a magnificent 
 bracelet, and 10,000 francs in gold rewarded the effort. Dr. 
 Varlez had advised she should eo to St. Schlangenbad for the 
 sake of the air there, and especially for the solitude and rest 
 of which she was so much in need. She attempted to follow 
 this advice, but, not fancying the place, returned to Brussels, 
 where she actually remained a whole fortnight without leav- 
 ing the house. She was so much benefited by this forced se- 
 clusion and the treatment she pursued that she was enabled 
 to return to Paris on the 18th of August. She immediately 
 repaired to her villa at Montmorency, and there continued for 
 some time the severe regimen prescribed, one of the chief 
 points of which was the most absolute repose of mind and 
 body. When the physician at last permitted her to play, it 
 was only such parts as Emilie in "Cinna," Pauline in "Poly- 
 eucte" — the mildest doses of the Cornelian pharmacopoeia.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 259 
 
 Phedre and Camille were as strictly forbidden as coffee and 
 spices. 
 
 The result of this treatment was the entire disappearance 
 of all the fatal symptoms ; a new lease of life had been ob- 
 tained, and her physician has the consciousness of having pro- 
 longed this indefatigable artiste's existence five years. 
 
 In October she was reputed entirely cured, and prepared to 
 undertake new creations. A role of " Aspasie," a tragedy in 
 two acts by Sanson, was studied by her, but never played ; 
 *' Rosemonde," Avhich she undertook several years later, was 
 even talked of then. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 1853. 
 
 "Lady Tartuffe." — Short Summer Excursion. — An obliging Manager. 
 — Engagement in Russia. — Permission of the Emperor, the Minister 
 of State, and the Comedie Francais countersigned by M. Legouve. — 
 A di])lomatic Letter. — The Author and the Actress. — Friendly Cor- 
 respondence. — "Medee" asked for; " Medee" written ; "Medee" 
 read ; " Medee" revised and corrected ; " Medee" approved, received, 
 rehearsed; "Medee" put away for another day. — Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel in St. Petersburg. — State of Theatricals in Russia. — A Witty 
 Reply. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel appeared in the part of Madame 
 de Girardin's "Lady Tartuffe" on the 14th of February, 1853. ' 
 This proved one of her best creationj? in comedy, though she 
 herself never fancied the role. 
 
 The heroine is a JMademoiselle de Blossac, who, having reached 
 the age of thirty without changing her name, follows the fash- 
 ion of single ladies, who, in the summer of their existence, feel 
 justified in adopting the title of "Madame." jMadame, who 
 leads a retired, respectable life, has met, while on some char- 
 itable excursion, the Duke cVEstigny, a Marshal of France and 
 ex-embassador, who, fascinated by the lady's apparent virtues, 
 lodges her at once in his house and heart — that is, he begins 
 by the offer of an apartment in his hotel, and ends by that of 
 his hand. In the marshal's hotel there are two other female 
 inmates — his niece, the widowed Countess de Clairmont, and her
 
 ,200 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 
 
 daughter Jeanne, fifteen years old, very pretty, and endowed 
 with a naivete, a simplicity perfectly extraordinary in the pres- 
 ent ao-e. Between the widow and the aspirant to tlie mar- 
 shal's hand, heart, and titles, there is from the very beginning 
 a feud, Avhich, though at first covert, subdued, and manifested 
 only in asides and little skirmishes — a sort of war in the bush 
 
 guerrilla encounters, where the blows are none the less 
 
 deadly because the arm is concealed — ends in an open fight, a 
 pitched battle, in which, though the cause of virtue is appa- 
 rently triumphant, it is, in fact, hard to tell who has the best 
 of it, and the leaders on both sides are damaged. 
 
 The old marshal is a noble-hearted man, prone to place im- 
 plicit belief in those who have his good opinion, pleased with 
 what looks innocent, good, and affectionate, and with no other 
 failing, even if that may be called one, than the inclination to 
 relate incidents of his mihtary and diplomatic career. The 
 other personages are more or less useful accessories. There is 
 a Baron de Tourhieres, a sort of factotum of Madame de Blos- 
 sac, who saves her interests in the beginning because she has 
 loaned him 20,000 francs, and who betrays her as soon as he 
 has found one of her enemies willing to lend him that sum to 
 repay her. This person, whose virtue, as he himself tells us, 
 is a marketable commodity — 
 
 " O vei-tu, tu vaux de Tor !" — 
 is certainly a far more odious creature than Madame de Blos- 
 sac; besides which, he is, in truth, quite a supernumerary in 
 the play, being without importance, interest, or avocation in 
 it. He undertakes to advance her cause with the marshal in 
 the expectation that as Madame la Marechal she vriW possess 
 sufficient interest to procure him the post o^ ^irefet or that of 
 receveur general; but this busy person does nothing that she 
 could not have accomplished without him, and in the mean 
 while taunts and insults her with impunity because he has a 
 secret of hers which may ruin her reputation. 
 
 The lover of Jeanne, young Henri, is of himself rather an in- 
 significant personage ; but, as it happens, lie was the intimate 
 friend of a former lover of Madame de Blossac's. Five years 
 ago. Mademoiselle Blossac, then on a visit to some English man- 
 sion, appointed a meeting in a pavilion with her then lover,
 
 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 261 
 
 who was supposed by the other members of the family to have 
 gone out hunting. The pair was suddenly disturbed by the 
 return of a real hunting party, and in danger of a discovery. 
 The lover, to save the lady's reputation, leaps from the win- 
 dow, and in doing so springs the trigger of his gun. He is 
 severely wounded, but his cold-hearted mistress, anxious to 
 save her good name, heeds not his groans, and leaves him to 
 die without aid. But a fortuitous circumstance reveals to one 
 person at least her presence in the pavilion, where she had 
 dropped her bouquet of heather. Since that fatal day she is 
 yearly reminded of it by the envoi, on its anniversary, of a bou- 
 quet of heather sent by an unknown hand. 
 
 There is an excellent scene in the first act ; unfortunately, 
 it is but too faithful a representation of that which is daily 
 passing in society, where reputations are slain with the most 
 inoffensive-looking weapons. Several members of a charitable 
 society are assembled in Madame de JSlossac's salon to discuss 
 ways and means for the advancement of the interests of that 
 society. The praise of the hostess, her piety and charity, form 
 the chief theme of conversation until the entrance of the Coun- 
 tess de Clahinont and her daughter. The countess says at once 
 she is not brought there by her own will. She comes deputed 
 by her uncle to announce her daughter's marriage, and invite 
 Madame de Blossac to join the family, who are that evening 
 to celebrate the betrothals in the apartments of the marshal. 
 Here Madame de Blossac learns that the intended husband is 
 Henri de Rennevelle, the man whom for five years she has se- 
 cretly but passionately loved. The shock is terrible. She 
 seeks to avert it by preventing the marriage, and resorts for 
 that purpose to the usual feminine weapon, calumny. The 
 scene is terribly true to the life. 
 
 The poisoned arrow has sped to its destination. Monsieur 
 de St. Yrieux, one of the persons present, is a friend of the Iicn- 
 nevelle family ; he thinks it a duty to warn them of the stain 
 on Jeanne^s character, and the result may be anticipated. 
 This first act is very skillfully written ; the dialogue is lively 
 and witty ; the characters are well drawn ; the scene of the 
 slander, so delicately insinuated, is particularly good. 
 
 The second and third acts are taken up with the sad conse-
 
 262 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 quences of the evil reports on poor little Jeanne. The scene 
 where the amours between Madame de Blossac and the marshal 
 are carried on, and in which the lady makes considerable prog- 
 ress toward the accomplishment of her aim — that of the open 
 rupture between the countess and her foe, during which the 
 former exhibits a violence that contrasts with the mild dignity 
 of her subtle antagonist, are Avell writteu, full of animation 
 and interest. Madame de Blossac is warmly supported by the 
 enamored old marshal, who closes his doors on his x-elatives, 
 and announces his marriage with their victim. 
 
 In the fourth act we have the vindication of Jeanne. But it 
 does not suffice that she be proved pure in the eyes of the fam- 
 ily circle ; she must be so in the eyes of the public, and that 
 is a far more difficult matter. Henri, who has recognized in 
 the common foe the Madame de Blossac whose egotism caused 
 the death of his friend, and to whom he yearly sends the fatal 
 reminder, lays a plot to dishonor her in the opinion of the 
 world — not a very delicate proceeding on the part of this hon- 
 est young man ; but the tables are on the point of being turned 
 upon him. He appoints a rendezvous at his own rooms, Ho- 
 tel Wagram, to hear her promised communication. The lady 
 gives him the history of her long-concealed love for him, a love 
 anterior to her intrigue with his friend ; his indifference mad- 
 dened and drove her to endeavor, by flirting with another, to 
 forget him. The narrative of this pure affection watching 
 over him so many years with untiring solicitude, the fascina- 
 tion of the siren's voice, the magic charm of her eye, her frank 
 avowal of former errors, her resolve to live another life, to be 
 what she has hitherto affected only, and that for his sake, her 
 disinterestedness — for she asks no return — all these have their 
 effect, and cause the young man to reflect on the meanness of 
 his own conduct in drawing a woman into an ambush. He ia 
 on the point of endeavoring to disentangle her from the net 
 he himself had cast around her, when the countess, the mar- 
 shal, and the Baron dcs Tourbieres, whom he had concealed in 
 an adjoining room to witness her defeat, break in and seek — 
 two of them, at least — to shame her. 
 
 The scene between Henri and Madame de Blossac is forced 
 and unnatural. Never would a clever woman, such as she is
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 263 
 
 described, play such a part or run such a risk. But the closing 
 scene is excellent ; the disgraced, betrayed, and foiled woman 
 is so energetic, so true to herself, so courageous amid the 
 wreck of her long-cherished hopes, that it is hard to tell on 
 which side the victory lies — the marshal's last words — 
 
 "Poor woman, they arc all against her!" — 
 
 clearly evince that over him, at least, Madame de Blossac will 
 soon regain her empire. As for the main point sought by the 
 conspirators against Madame de Blossac — the rehabilitation of 
 Jeanne in the opinion of the public — we can not see but what 
 it is as far off as ever. Jeanne herself comes in all alone at 
 the end of the play, exclaiming that she has been seeking her 
 mother every where. Her presence was needed for the tableau 
 finale, the joining of the lovers' hands and the blessing asked 
 by De Tourhicres, but it docs seem rather strange that she 
 should leave her home unattended to seek her mother in Hen- 
 ries apartment, Hotel Wagram ! 
 
 It has been said, and with gi-eat truth, that a dramatic 
 work is the greatest of all literary efforts. It is rare, indeed, 
 that a play is written that combines every requisite. When 
 the chief character is powerfully drawn, the other personages 
 are weak and foulty. At times, every thing is sacrificed to a 
 few scenes, rendered effective by the most improbable absurd- 
 ities ; at others, brilliancy of style and superabundance of de- 
 tail, like regal garments thrown over a skeleton, merely serve 
 to conceal the poverty of the idea and the meagreness of the 
 subject. For one or two successful and really good plays 
 that now and then surprise the public, how innumerable arc 
 the failures ! 
 
 Madame de Girardin, when she attempted tragedy, mistook 
 her vocation, as " Judith" and " Cleopatre" amply testified. 
 But in " Lady Tartuffe" and " La Joie Fait Peur" she proved 
 herself possessed of all the elements required to excel as a 
 writer of comedy — of the real French comedy, the honor of 
 inventing which reverts to La Chaussce. 
 
 If comedy be, indeed, the representation of the incidents 
 and habits of familiar life, Moliere himself overlooked a por- 
 tion of its domain.
 
 264 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 The poet calls human nature a " pendulum between a smile 
 and a tear," and this is the true view that comedy must take ; 
 this was the view taken of it by La Chaussee : to have en- 
 larged or cultivated the tract he opened is a glorious progress. 
 At the present day we may well wonder that he who first 
 embodied this appreciation of life should have been sneered at. 
 
 To the old detractors of La Chaussee Madame de Girardin 
 opposed the triumphant reputation of her talent — an indispu- 
 table authority. She was well aware that smiles and tears 
 were the two poles of the human heart, at times brought to- 
 gether by a violent shock, and in "La Joie Fait Peur" she 
 chose the subject most susceptible of being put upon the stage. 
 We often hear the phrase of " to laugh until you cry," and 
 there is no sadder species of insanity than that produced by 
 extreme grief, and which betrays itself by violent fits of laugh- 
 ter. What was peculiarly her own, that which specially con- 
 stituted Madame de Girardin's originality, was the skillful 
 manner in which she elFected a transition between those two 
 extremes of feeling. She was well acquainted with the chords 
 of the instrument, and succeeded in charming her readers or 
 her audience without agitating them with too violent an emo- 
 tion, or giving too great a shock to the nervous system. 
 
 " Lady TartufFe" was not, perhaps, as pleasing or as cor- 
 rect a work as " La Joie Fait Peur." The author was pro- 
 gressing in a department of dramatic art in which she would 
 have reached perfection had her life been spared, and " Lady 
 Tartufie" was younger by a year than her more successful 
 play. It betokens too hurried an execution. The plot is, 
 perhaps, too intricate ; there is much to be pruned — much 
 that needed more delicate a finish. Some of the speeches are 
 too long, and weary the audience ; while the result, which has 
 been laboriously sought among a crowd of incidents, proves 
 imsatisfactory. Still, with all its faults, " Lady TartufFe" is 
 a type belonging to the authoress, and which, had she re- 
 modeled it, would have proved an excellent comedy. 
 
 The worst fault of this jilay was its title, a title plainly in- 
 dicating the intentioii of the author, but one as mistaken as 
 it was bqjd, for it is in no way justified by the heroine. It is 
 the flourish of trumpets announcing the entrance into the lists
 
 MEMOIXtS OF RACIlKr.. 265 
 
 with Moliere of a new candidate — an attempt to compete 
 where competition was sure to entail failure — to imitate whei'e 
 any imitation must prove a caricature. Bcaumarchais him- 
 self committed this mistake when he allowed the "NcwTar- 
 tuffe" to appear on the playbills ; but even this daring genius 
 disavowed his presumptuous pretensions, and changed the ti- 
 tle to that of the " Guilty Mother." 
 
 As for a, female Tartaffc, thank heaven no such being ever 
 existed. Moliere's demon is a complete fiend, without a sin- 
 gle redeeming point, and such a one could never find a lodg- 
 ing in a female heart. In the "Lady TartufFe" of Madame 
 de Girardin there are flashes of repentance — there is love. In 
 the "TartufFe" of Moliere there could be neither. Kepent- 
 ance of itself washes away much sin, and where real love ex- 
 ists for a worthy object it regenerates the most en*ing nature : 
 Madame de Blossac herself tell us so. Tartuffe never felt one 
 moment's repentance, and the passion Elimire had excited in 
 him deserves quite another name than that of love. 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel made a conscientious study of this role, 
 and though, as we have several times had occasion to remark, 
 very inferior in comedy to what she was in her own t'epertoire, 
 she played the character in the most creditable manner. This 
 was the more meritorious, as she disliked the part exceeding- 
 ly. The finesse, the covert, subtle, subdued style required to 
 play the female hypocrite, were the opposites of the grand, 
 bold, daring passions of tragedy, and could not be natural in 
 Mademoiselle Rachel. What added greatly to the attraction 
 was that Sanson, her professor, took the part of the old mar- 
 shal, and their perfect understanding, long habit of studying 
 together, and knowledge of each other's powers produced a 
 result nearly amounting to perfection. 
 
 Still, though she played it well, and the play found favor 
 with the public, the first night had well-nigh proved fatal to 
 it. The authoress, indeed, was so greatly disappointed that 
 she wished to leave the theatre without speaking to Mademoi- 
 selle Rachel, under pretense of emotion. M. Regnier endeav- 
 oi'ed to persuade her to the contrary, but for some little time 
 his efforts were vain. " No," exclaimed the vexed authoress, 
 *' I can not see her ; she has played wretchedly !" 
 
 M
 
 266 MEMOIES OF RACHEL. 
 
 Finally, she allowed herself to be conducted to the artiste's 
 dressing-room, and a few cold words were exchanged. 
 
 " You are not pleased," said Rachel. 
 
 " JVimjiorie, with you I am sure to succeed," replied Mad- 
 ame de Girardin. 
 
 This year it was announced by Mademoiselle Rachel that 
 she intended to devote the summer co7ige to repose, in order to 
 be able, with recruited strength and energy, to perform the 
 duties of her autumnal and winter season. She intended this, 
 it was said, as a refutation of the charges that had been 
 brought against her by the management at the time of the 
 lawsuit with the Theatre Frangais. 
 
 It Tuight be that she needed rest, for during the spring sea- 
 son, while she was acting Ladi/ Tartuffe at the Theatre Fran- 
 (jais, she was playing on the off nights in the Departments. 
 Thus, during the whole of March, she spent her days in the 
 railways, and nights acting in Amiens, Orleans, Tours, going 
 even as far as Nantes, and yet performing twice a week in 
 Paris ! She called this resting, because she was not perma- 
 nently away from the capital. She was charmed by M. Ar- 
 sene Houssaye's compliance with her wishes regarding these 
 excursions. 
 
 " C'est il gentil de M. Ploussaye de me laisser faire cela, 
 car il pourrait me le defcndre !" she would exclaim, in the 
 exuberance of her gratitude. 
 
 She did not, indeed, prolong her summer conge abroad over 
 six weeks, during which she played in London, Brussels, An- 
 gers, Liege, and Saumur. Contrary to her expectations, she 
 had no houses. This was probably owing to her having visit- 
 ed these towns too often, and the provinces can not bear re- 
 peated drains like capitals constantly recruited by foreign 
 visitors. At all events, Rachel, as was her wont when she 
 wished to hide her disappointment, feigned sudden illness and 
 returned to Paris, though she was expected in La Haye. It 
 was then she announced her intention to repose during the 
 remainder of the conge. How far she was sincere in her re- 
 solve to recruit for the benefit of the Theatre Francais will 
 appear by the use she made of her renewed strength. The 
 summer was spent in active negotiations to obtain a most
 
 MEMOIES OF RACHEL. 267 
 
 lucrative engagement that had long been anxiously desired by 
 Mademoiselle Kachel, and which was finally obtained at the 
 expense of the Theatre Fran^ais. 
 
 It must be owned that, though not over scrupulous as to 
 the means she used, the great ti-agedtenne possessed a quality 
 for which artistes are not often distinguished — she was an ex- 
 cellent woman 'for business. She never lost sight of what to 
 her was the main point. 
 
 In the beginning of September it was rumored that she was 
 going to spend the winter in Russia. St. Petersburg had not 
 yet paid the tribute of gold and laurels she had obtained in 
 almost every European capital. Eachel reflected that she 
 had no time to lose if she wished to levy her tax. The East- 
 ern question was becoming so complicated that a war was in- 
 evitable, and hostilities were expected to break out in the 
 spring. If she delayed, the rubles were lost to her. All the 
 wires of dramatic diplomacy were set to work ; the Russian 
 court was willing to pass the winter as agreeably as possible 
 pi-evious to commencing a campaign of which it entertained 
 such brilliant anticipations, and an engagement for six months 
 was offered to Mademoiselle Rachel, who was permitted by 
 the courtesy of the French government to accept it. 
 
 This important news was communicated in the following 
 
 terms to M. Ernest Legouve, one of the authors of " Adrienne 
 
 Lecouvreur," by Madame de Saigneville, a friend of the tmgc- 
 
 ■ dienne, and her secretary whenever a difficult negotiation was 
 
 to be carried through : 
 
 "October 5th. 
 "You have probably learned, sir, by the newspapers, the 
 incredible munificence of the engagement proposed to our Ra- 
 chel in the name of the Emperor of Russia. Government has 
 thought fit to permit the great artiste to earn in six months a 
 fortune. Rachel will be back here on the 15th of May (1854). 
 She will, on her arrival, be quite perfect in "jNIedea," and the 
 tragedy will be acted immediately. I send you herewith her 
 letter, properly dated. She commissioned me to forward it 
 as a proof of her good intentions. 
 
 " I need not say how devotedly I am yours, 
 
 " L. J. DE Saigneville."
 
 268 HEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 The above letter was corroborated by one from Mademoi- 
 selle Rachel herself, written in the coaxing, insinuating tone 
 women command so readily when they wish to obtain any 
 thing. 
 
 *' Dear M. Legouve, — Brilliant offers have long been made 
 to induce me to spend a winter in Russia. These I have re- 
 fused, alleging my duties at the Theatre Frangais and the fear 
 of disobliging my comrades. But the engagement now offered 
 is really so extraordinarily advantageous that I have endeavor- 
 ed to obtain the very gi-eat favor of taking this Avinter the six 
 months' conge I was to have next summer. The Emperor, the 
 Minister of State, and the Comedie Frangaise have granted me 
 leave to visit tliat northern nation. I set out with sufficient 
 courage, and I assure you it is needed to brave the approach- 
 ing season, which threatens to be severe. Do not, dear sir, 
 increase my grief (which is great) by bearing me any ill-will. 
 I shall keep " Medea." I would greatly wish to find her on 
 my return the spotless maiden she now is; but, whate%'er 
 happens to her, my love is such I will willingly receive her 
 back from the arms she may have wandered into. 
 
 " You have sometimes professed yourself my friend ; here, 
 now, is an excellent opportunity of proving yourself one. I 
 hope, on my return, to find your friendship unaltered. 
 
 " As for me, I am ever your devoted Rachel. 
 
 "Paris, October 4th, 1853." 
 
 The reader who has forgotten, or perhaps heard of the suit 
 at law between M. Legouve and Mademoiselle Rachel toward 
 the close of the year >854, will perhaps question wliy the proud 
 Boxane, the fierce Hermione, should write so coaxingly to M. 
 Legouve, and why she, who had a pass signed by the Emper- 
 or, the Minister of State, and the Comedie Frangaise, deemed 
 it requisite that it should be countersigned by that gentleman. 
 A few words will explain her anxiety on this point, and throw 
 some preliminary light on the subsequent quarrel. 
 
 M. Legouve, the son of a poet, a poet himself of some rep- 
 utation, and one of the authors of " Adrienne Lecouvreur," 
 had become the friend of Mademoiselle Rachel under the fol-
 
 BIEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 269 
 
 lowing circumstances. Adrienne was first offered to Made- 
 moiselle Rachel, who, after learning and rehearsing the part, 
 suddenly took it into her head that it was quite unsuited to 
 her. This caprice, for we have already seen that she had nei- 
 ther taste nor discernment in dramatic literature, offended M. 
 Scribe exceedingly, and he gave the charming rule to Made- 
 moiselle Rose Chcri. The spirit of rivalry did what no en- 
 treaties or the promptings of good sense could have obtained. 
 Rachel was as eager to have the part when it was another's 
 as she had been obstinate in returning it when it was hei's. 
 But M. Scribe was also a sovereign power in theatrical affairs. 
 He was in his turn obdurate, and it was only through the 
 kindly intervention of his co-author, M. Legouve, that the cov- 
 eted part went back to its original destination. 
 
 The success of the play having taught Mademoiselle Rachel 
 how much she was indebted to him who had restored it to 
 her,' became the foundation of the warmest friendship between 
 them. The actress, with that passionate enthusiasm of heart 
 and head which is too often the sole guide of the sex, could 
 neither see nor hear save through her cher auteur. She would 
 have wished to play no works but his, and, until he could 
 write new ones for her, she took up his old ones. 
 
 Mademoiselle Mars had some years before created with the 
 fullest success the rule of Louise de Lignerolles. We have seen 
 that Mademoiselle Rachel, who ought to have been taught 
 wisdom by former failures, undertook once more to prove her 
 right of succession to the light sceptre so gracefully held by 
 the great comedienne; but the attempt was extremely unfor- 
 tunate. That her good- will was not lacking is fully sho^\'n 
 by the following lines, written on the fly-leaf of a copy of 
 "Talma's Memoirs" sent to M. Legouve on the 6tli of Janu- 
 ary, 1852. • 
 
 " I mean to spend my nights learning ' Louise dc Ligne- 
 rolles,' with which I am exceedingly charmed. See [M. Hous- 
 saye as soon as possible, that the work may be immediately 
 revived. You may rely on my zeal, my devotion, and some- 
 what, too, on my ability. I send you a book, the perusal of 
 which will, I think, interest you. You have promised me a 
 play for 1853 ; I rely on having it, mind. Rachel."
 
 270 MEMOIRS OP RACHEL. 
 
 Monsieur Legouve was justified in considering so positive 
 an invitation, as it were, in the presence of the shade of Tal- 
 ma, as a formal command, binding on both sides. He set to 
 work, choosing "Medea" as his subject. 
 
 The subject was not a new one ; but neither had his prede- 
 cessors, who wrote expressly for Mademoiselle Eachel, selected 
 very modern themes. The " Lucrece" of M. Fonsard and the 
 " Virginie" of M. Latour de St. Ybars, the two tragedies of 
 contemporaries in which she had been most happy, were both 
 based on incidents borrowed from the early legends of the 
 Roman republic. The character of Medea was, perhaps, moi-e 
 appropriate than either of the former to bring into bold relief 
 the peculiar qualities and style of the actress. She had, more- 
 over, expressed a wish that the play should be short, and that 
 all the interest should be concentrated in her part. The trag- 
 edy was accox'dingly in three acts only, during which the 
 fierce princess was almost constantly on the stage. In these 
 two points, at least, Mademoiselle Eachel's views were fully 
 carried out. 
 
 "Mede'e" was finished in April of that year (1852), and 
 Mademoiselle Eachel, who had been forthwith apprised of the 
 fact, promptly replied to the communication by the following 
 grateful and friendly letter : 
 
 " MoN CHER AuTEUR, — I am exceedingly desirous of hear- 
 ing your new work. I am yet rather ailing, not having quite 
 recovered from an indisposition I suffered from in Belgium 
 last month ; but having had the courage to submit to the 
 most absolute inaction during all this month, I am inclined to 
 think there is still life in me, and especially strength enough 
 to be indebted to you for new triumphs. I am at present re- 
 siding*at Montmorency, where, if you please, I will hear the 
 play that is to be our next winter's success. The 8th of Sep- 
 tember would suit me well ; the hour I leave to you, as I am 
 always at home. I would wish the part to be a brilliant one, 
 but not fatiguing, since, unfortunately, I shall not for some 
 months be able to play my grand repertoire, that is, ' Phedre,' 
 ' Horaces,' ' Louise de Lignerolles,' ' Marie Stuart,' ' Andro- 
 maquc,' &c., «S:c. That shows you I am not very strong yet.
 
 JIEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 271 
 
 I am in hopes the reading of your play will accelerate my re- 
 covery. I shall owe you much ; rely on it, then, that I will 
 be doubly grateful. Rachel. 
 
 "Montmorency, August 27th." 
 
 The private reading alluded to in the above letter was fol- 
 lowed by the official one before the comite de lecture of the the- 
 atre, and it was received conditionally — that is, there were 
 six white and six red balls. The explanation of this was that 
 two acts were unanimously received, and one on condition of 
 certain alterations, to which the author consented. The third 
 act having been remoulded, the play was submitted to an or- 
 deal considered by authors as almost equivalent to a public 
 performance — it was read in the presence of an audience con- 
 sisting of the elite of literature and of society. Among the 
 men of the world, of letters, and of that of fashion assembled 
 in Mademoiselle Rachel's salon were Messrs. Charton, H. Mar- 
 tin, J. Janin, BrifFault, Rolle, De Noailles, Berlioz, &c., by 
 whom " Mede'e" was received with great applause, the hostess 
 herself manifesting the most enthusiastic admiration. 
 
 This time the admission by the comite de lecture of the the- 
 atre was unanimous and unconditional, and Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel was rehearsing her part diligently, when, in September 
 of 1853, the voyage to Russia was resolved upon. 
 
 It is evident that it was rather a delicate matter to propose 
 to an author, who had been laboring for two years for her and 
 at her request, the adjournment of all his hopes at the moment 
 they were about to be realized. Hence the coaxing tone of 
 the letters of Mademoiselle Rachel and her secretary. Made- 
 moiselle de Saigneville. 
 
 M. Legouve, however, did not justify the charge made against 
 authors belonging to the genus irritable. lie consented with 
 a good grace to the proposed delay ; and, free from all ob- 
 stacles, Mademoiselle Rachel set out for Russia in the month 
 of October of this year. 
 
 A few words on the present state of theatricals in the cap- 
 ital of Russia will be a sufficient protest against the assertions 
 of those who deem it no difficult matter to earn distinction in 
 what they imagine to be a city where dramatic art is still in 
 its infancy.
 
 272 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 St. Petersburg possesses four theatres and six theatrical 
 companies. 
 
 The houses are : 
 
 The Grand Theatre, where the Italian Opera and ballets 
 are given. 
 
 The Russian Theatre, or Theatre Alexandre, for the per- 
 formance of Avorks in the national language : hj a singular 
 anomaly, this house is the one that attracts the fewest spec- 
 tators. 
 
 The French Theatre, or Theatre Mikaclski, exclusively ap- 
 propriated to French companies. 
 
 The Theatre Cirque, so called from its having been origin- 
 ally built for the performance of the Imperial Equestrian Com- 
 pany. At present the Russian Opera Company and German 
 Dramatic Company perform there alternately. 
 
 The Grand Theatre and the Theatre Franc;ais are the best 
 patronized in St. Petersburg. The court, the citizens, and 
 the numerous French inhabitants ai'e supporters of these two 
 houses. The German performances at the The'atre du Cirque 
 attract only the German residents. As to the Russian dra- 
 matic and operatic performances, they are left entirely to the 
 lower classes, who do not exhibit any very ardent patriotism 
 in their support. The Russians seem to feel already that, to 
 take their place worthily in the ranks of civilized nations, 
 they must renounce in an artistic and literary sense the use 
 of their languafre. 
 
 The two Russian theatres are in their infancy, but not in 
 such infancy as was that of Western theatricals when they 
 were compelled to struggle against barbarism, and to seek 
 their models in the dust of ages and in the scattered fragments 
 of forgotten antiquity. The pieces brought out in those the- 
 atres gave evidence of the contemporary education their au- 
 thors have received and of the atmosphere in which they have 
 dwelt. There is more than one Russian dramatic work on a 
 level with the present century, and which, translated into 
 French or English, would take its place among those most in 
 vogue in London or Paris. The same may be said of the 
 actors. They are not grossly ignorant companions of Thespis, 
 fit only to perform in silly shows for the amusement of spec-
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 273 
 
 tators neither wiser nor more refined than themselves. They 
 have been formed in the schools of their French, German, and 
 Italian comrades, and have been earl}' initiated in all the rules 
 of art, in all the mysteries of the profession. There are sev- 
 eral among them who can^ bear comparison with the most 
 celebrated of the members of the French troop. 
 
 Such was the dramatic world in which Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel made her appearance in St. Petersburg. 
 
 The reception of the tragedienne in St. Petersburg was not 
 only most gratifying to her vanity, but also most encouraging 
 as to her success. Strange to say, however, no experience or 
 long practice, no confidence in the favorable disposition toward 
 her of the audience, could make her conquer the timidity with 
 which she is seized when about to appear either in a new part 
 or before a new public. For some days before the ordeal she 
 was always in a state of great nervous excitement, fidgety, 
 irritable, and fault-finding to the last degree. This state of 
 mind is so inseparable to a debiit that the event is as much 
 dreaded by those about her as by herself Poor Eose, her 
 faithful maid, is most especially delighted when the event is 
 over, and her mistress has again recovered her usual placidity 
 of temper. When she comes on the stage on these occasions 
 her hands are icy cold, the drops of perspiration cover her 
 brow, her voice is husky, her limbs are so tremulous she can 
 scai'cely stand. This emotion, which, in one so skilled and 
 practiced to appear before the foot-lights, is extraordinary, is 
 reproduced, more or less violently, every time she plays in a 
 character which the public has not seen her in, though she 
 may have acted it with applause scores of times elsewhere. 
 
 When, therefore, she appeared before the court of St. Peters- 
 burg in " Phedre," she did not justify her reputation on the 
 first night. It was not encouragement that was lacking, and 
 it was given, too, most liberally, at most unexpected moments. 
 For instance, when Phedre utters the passage ending with 
 these lines, 
 
 "Detestable flatteurs present Ic plus funeste, 
 Que puisse faire aux rois le colere celeste !" 
 
 the signal for loud applause came from the imperial box, and 
 
 was too enthusiastic and prolonged for the intention to be 
 
 ]\I 2
 
 274 MEMOIRS OF EACHEL. 
 
 mistaken. It was called forth as much by the allusion the 
 lines contained as by the talent of the actress who uttered 
 
 them. 
 
 In "Lady TartulFe" the emotion of Mademoiselle Rachel 
 was such that it was thought by those on the stage and be- 
 hind the scenes she would not be able to proceed with the 
 part. In the scene of the fifth act, when Henri reveals him- 
 self by throwing the bouquet of heather to her whom he ac- 
 cuses of causing his friend's death, it was fortunate that the 
 part required a show of emotion, which this time was not 
 feigned. It was in vain the prompter gave her the cue ; she 
 had completely lost her memory, and could only whisper to 
 him who played Henri, "Oh, I can not — can not go on!" 
 (" Je n'en puis plus.") The nature of the passage giving her 
 time to recover,, she finally shook off the feeling. 
 
 The French company i-emained at the Mikaelski theatre 
 fourteen weeks, during which time Eachel played every other 
 day. The favorite play with the Russian public seemed to be 
 " Adrienne Lecouvreur," and it was accordingly given oftener 
 than any other. 
 
 The imperial approbation showed itself in a tangible form 
 as well as in empty compliments and evanescent applause. 
 The tragedienne was presented by the empress with a pelisse 
 of the most costly furs in the world, and by the munificent 
 Nicholas with a diamond and ruby corsage ornament of great 
 value. Raphael Felix had his share of the spoils in the shape 
 of a magnificent ring. There was an idle report among the act- 
 ors that a handsome sum had been sent to be distributed among 
 the other members of the company, but Raphael undeceived 
 them ; the money had been sent as the price of the boxes taken 
 by the court. 
 
 From St. Petersburg Rachel went to Moscow, where she 
 played six weeks. The company was to have played in War- 
 saw, but counter-orders were given by the government. 
 
 The success of Mademoiselle Rachel was not alone due to 
 her as an actress ; she made innumerable conquests over the 
 hearts of the young boyards, and the gallant officers, who joy- 
 ously anticipated nothing less than a second invasion of France, 
 appeared proud to wear the chains of her celebrated daughter.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 275 
 
 Among the numerous unauthenticated anecdotes that circu- 
 hxted with regard to her say nigs and doings during her stay in 
 the Czar's domains, we venture to present the folio win"- to 
 our readers, by many of whom it may have ah-eady been seen, 
 as it has appeared in print. We give it, not on account of its 
 being more worthy of belief, but because, if true, it does credit 
 to Kachel ; if not, she had ready wit enough to have made 
 the reply, though her j)citriotism would never have suggested it. 
 
 A dinner had been offered to the French IMelpomene, and 
 the young military guests were speaking of the possibility 
 that the sword might be called to sever the Gordian knot 
 that diplomacy seemed to despair of ever loosening. 
 
 "We shall not bid you adieu, but cm revoir, mademoiselle," 
 quoth one of the gay sons of Mars to the tragklienne ; " we 
 hope soon to applaud you in the capital of France, and to 
 drink your health in its excellent wines." 
 
 "Nay, messieurs," replied she, "France will not be rich 
 enough to afford Champagne to all her prisoners." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVn. 
 
 1854. 
 
 Keturn from Russia. — Prudence versus Patriotism. — M. Legouve loses 
 Patience. — A Declaration of "War before the Civil Tribunal. — Soft 
 Words. — M. Legouve apijcascd. — The Spoiled Pet and the Public. 
 — Another Quarrel patched up. — Mademoiselle Rachel in the Clas- 
 sic Eepei-ioire at the close of her Cai-eer. — "Phedre." — "Camille." — 
 A Souvenir of the Past. 
 
 It was said that the harvest Mademoiselle Rachel reaped 
 in Russia amounted to 300,000 francs for her own share, and 
 that Raphael's modest gains as manager of the company gave 
 a total of 100,000 francs. A very handsome reward for mak- 
 ing what, under the circumstances, might be considered a 
 pleasure trip ! 
 
 But the hour had arrived when Russian hearts were to be 
 left to break, or seek comfort elsewhere. As to that of the 
 fortunate daughter of Israel, it found satisfactory compensa- 
 tion in the rubles she bore away. She might say with truth, 
 " C'est autant de prisur I'ennemi !"
 
 276 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Political events marched on apace, and left no time to de- 
 liberate ; the war was imminent. It was said that the Czar 
 had one moment entertained the idea of detaining Mademoi- 
 selle as a willing hostess, but that she had refused to remain. 
 In fact, there was no longer any inducement. If she staid 
 after the close of her engagement she had to do so on her own 
 account, and the chances were against her in that case. The 
 majority of the fashionable aristocracy having a knowledge of 
 the language conld appreciate her acting, but many would be 
 called away to join the army. Of the gentry, some went to 
 see her merely because it was the fashion to do so, and, the 
 novelty once over, never cared to go again. It was not in 
 St. Petersburg as in Paris, where the bourgeoisie are among 
 the stanch supporters of the stage, and even the lower class 
 delight in theatricals, and contribute gladly their quota to 
 support them. The Russian tradespeople could find no charms 
 in Eacine and Corneille, and the inferior ranks were not to 
 be counted at all. 
 
 All these considerations aroused the dormant patriotism of 
 the tragedienne, and she hurried home when she could get noth- 
 ing by staying any longer. vShe was, perhaps, the last French- 
 woman that crossed the frontier. 
 
 During her stay in the Czar's dominions Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel had continually heard her Russian friends boast of what 
 they should, could, and would do. The invasion of 1814 and 
 1815 were to find their parallels in 1854. These vain brag- 
 gings probably had their eflfect on the prudent actress, and 
 made her resolve to quit, for a time, a country that was likely 
 to be impoverished, if not ruined, by the invader. She might, 
 in the mean while, seek in America another El Dorado. Time 
 was money, and she could not lose hers. 
 
 She did not even await her arrival in Paris to carry out 
 her plans, but began their execution before she left Russia. 
 
 That the American excui'sion was planned at that time 
 there is every reason to believe. Why else should Rachel 
 have thought fit, immediately on her arrival in France, to 
 repay the courtesy and kindness with Avhich the Emperor, the 
 Alinistcr of State, and the Coraedie Fran^aise had permitted 
 her to visit that northern nation, by sending in lior resigna-
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 277 
 
 tion ? Why else should she have deputed her mother to sig- 
 nify to M. Legouve that " decidedly she would not play Me- 
 dee," the Medce which Mademoiselle de Saigneville had an- 
 nounced "should be played immediately on her return from 
 Russia," and which Mademoiselle Rachel was so afraid she 
 would not find "the same pure maiden," though her love was 
 such she was "willing to take her from the arms she might 
 have strayed into." 
 
 We know not how the French government received the an- 
 nouncement of the resignation, but the revelations of the Pal- 
 ais de Justice have placed before us the rather sharp answer 
 returned by M. Legouve to the intimation forwarded to him 
 of Mademoiselle Rachel's resolutions with regard to "Medee." 
 
 "Dear Lady," wrote the poet, "I have had the honor to 
 see madame, your mother ; she communicated to me the con- 
 tents of your letter. I replied as I reply to you now — that it 
 is impossible you should not play ' Medee.' Of this I will 
 easily convince you on your return. I shall be delighted to 
 have afforded you the opportunity of a new triumph, even a 
 little against your will. 
 
 " Yours, very truly, E. Legouve." 
 
 This firm but courteous letter met Mademoiselle Rachel in 
 Warsaw on her way back. Pier reply, dated March 14th, 
 was us follows : 
 
 "My dear M. Legouve, — Your letter reached me on my 
 arrival in Warsaw ; I hasten to answer it, for I would not be 
 the cause of delaying any longer the success that awaits " Me- 
 dee" at the Theatre Fran^ais. 
 
 " My resignation is most serious ; consequently, I have but 
 six months to give to the Theati-e Fran^-ais. I wish in that 
 time to play all ray classic rejjei^toire ; this I could not do if I 
 undertook a new creation at present. 1 will even confess that 
 I ought not to create a new rale when I am on the eve of 
 quitting the French stage. The conviction that the press 
 would not support me, fear would paralyze my faculties, and 
 it is not at the close of my career in the Rue de Richelieu that 
 I would like to risk seventeen years of success in Pnri?.
 
 278 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 " Pray believe, dear M. Legouve, that I am truly grieved to 
 find I must give up the playing of 'Medee.' 
 
 " Very much your friend, Rachel." 
 
 No sort of doubt could remain, and iM. Legouve — the cour- 
 teous, peace-seeking M. Legouve — vi^as obliged to seek the re- 
 dress the law alone could give him. Mademoiselle Eachel 
 reached Paris on the 27th of March; on the 30th she was 
 legally notified to play Medee. This first step having been 
 taken no notice of, a petition to be allowed to summon the 
 rebellious actress herself was presented on the 1st of April to 
 the President of the Civil Tribunal of the Seine, and forthwith 
 granted. 
 
 Mademoiselle Eachel knew well with whom she had to deal, 
 and, convinced that these fierce demonstrations emanated not 
 from him, but from his lawyer, she wrote him a letter that 
 would have disarmed a man of sterner mould than the son of 
 the soft-hearted author of "De Merite des Femmes." 
 
 " I am about to start for the Pyrenees to meet my sister 
 Rebecca, who is there extremely ill, to take one of my children 
 there, whose state of health alarms me gi-eatly, and to seek 
 myself the rest which has been prescribed to me, I leave 
 here on account of all these very strong motives, of which you 
 are not ignorant, but I can not absent myself from Paris with- 
 out coming to some decision on the subject of the lawsuit you 
 have commenced against me — you, whom I called, and whom 
 I still call, my dear Monsieur Legouve. 
 
 " I am only here, on my way through Paris, a prey to the 
 most harrowing anxiety, and I receive, one after another, two 
 horrid bits of stamped paper instead of the interview of ten 
 minutes, which, as you wrote me in "Warsaw, was to set mat- 
 ters right between us, and which certainly would have done so 
 had you consulted your memory instead of the retailers of 
 chicanery. 
 
 " Must I imitate you ? I ask myself this question between 
 two half-packed trunks, but I hesitate but a second. No, I 
 will not play Medee under judicial compulsion, with the risk, 
 if the guilty, the abominable ' Medee' does not meet with the
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 279 
 
 success the author expects, of hearing myself accused by his 
 friends as the cause. People of the world and of the press 
 will not fail to say that, if ' Medee' did not succeed, it was the 
 fault of ISIademoisclle Rachel, who retaliated by opposing ill- 
 will to compulsion, and revenged herself on the author by 
 killing the piece. 
 
 "'J/ec/(V may murder her children, she may even poison 
 her worthy father-in-law ; I can not do the same, even if I 
 would. 
 
 " The public must not be taken for an accomplice to avenge 
 theatrical quai^»els when one bears such a name as mine, and 
 when one has for it the respect I have. 
 
 "Consequently, my dear M. Legouve, I will show in this 
 petty war more moderation than you, although the epoch 
 when I shall irrevocably cease to belong to the Theatre Fran- 
 ^ais is very nigh ; although I can now give but a very few 
 performances, which, out of gratitude, must be from my classic 
 repertoire^ when every thing proves that I shall not have time 
 in case of possible failure to seek to retrieve it, I will not have 
 a lawsuit. You will have me play Medte under these cir- 
 cumstances 1 AVell, I will do so. I will even endeavor to 
 forget your summonses, your stamped paper, messages, and 
 huissiers' \\?:\t. I will forget all my griefs, and only remember 
 the success for which we have been reciprocally indebted to 
 each other, and the friendship you have been so ready to 
 break. 
 
 "At the expiration of my conge I will undertake Medce. 
 You have merit enough to afford to be modest, but you are 
 certainly too modest wlien you deem me indispensable to your 
 work. 
 
 " Meanwhile, until I can call myself your devoted Jledee, I 
 still sign myself your entirely devoted Rachel. 
 
 "Paris, April 9th, 1854." 
 
 This time the motives alleged by Mademoiselle Rachel for 
 her absence and for the delay she again begged were but too 
 well founded. The state of Rebecca's health was most alarm- 
 ing. M. Legouve is a poet, but, above all, he is a man he- 
 reditarily devoted to the worship and companionship of worn-
 
 280 BIEMOmS OF RACHEL. 
 
 an. The most sensitive chords of his heart had been art- 
 fully touched — he was disarmed — the suit was not prosecuted: 
 he waited. 
 
 The comjc, however, at length expired, and Mademoiselle 
 Rachel made her reappearance in "Phedre" on the 30th of 
 ]May. 
 
 Never, perhaps, had the absence of that personal sympathy 
 which had always been lacking between Mademoiselle Rachel 
 and the parterre of the Theatre Fran^ais been manifested so 
 plainly as on the evening of this rentree. Many were the 
 sins accumulated on that head. The reme«abrance of her 
 conduct toward the committee of the theatre and the legal 
 debates to which it had given rise were fresh in every m.ind. 
 The Comedie Fran^ais is a sort of holy ark with the Paris- 
 ians. But that which had added gall to the cup was her 
 subsequent anti-patriotic /i/^z/e to Russia — a country that had 
 left such painful souvenirs in the capital — souvenirs that had 
 then not as yet been effaced by the glorious exploits of the 
 French army in the Crimea — a country that boasted of re- 
 newing the days of shame and humiliation of 1814 ! On the 
 eve of a bloody war, Rachel had hastened to contribute her 
 talent to the entertainment of the enemy. The reception of 
 the capricious, nomade, grasping renegade was in accordance 
 with the thoughts that filled every mind. It was silent — cold 
 as the tomb : every brow was stern, every eye severe. 
 
 But the more implacable and resolute seemed the audience 
 in its indignation, the more determined was the actress to 
 conquer and bring it back, if not to love, at least to passion- 
 ate admiration. And she succeeded ; for, we have already 
 said it, with her, will was power. 
 
 Now that this, the greatest French tragic actress that has 
 appeared for many years, and who, perhaps, will have no 
 worthy successor for several generations, is in all likelihood 
 really excluded forever from that stage she so frequently 
 threatened to forsake, a few words on the manner in which 
 she performed, at the close of her career, the plays of her 
 classic repertoire, are due to her.* 
 
 * The reader will bear in mind that the greater portion of this work 
 was written before the death of JMademoisclle Rachel.
 
 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 281 
 
 When Mademoiselle Rachel first won the enthusiastic ad- 
 miration of the public, she was immediately called la gi-ande 
 tragedienne. Yet at that time she only gave promise of what 
 she would be ; the signs were indeed extraordinary, and slic 
 fully justified afterward the expectations she had raised and 
 the title she had obtained. But it was not at once that, in 
 every rule, she deserved the extravagant encomiums lavished 
 upon her first steps ; there Avere some in which only transient 
 rays pierced at intervals through the darkness. It was not 
 until some years had elapsed that the radiant sun burst forth 
 in all its splcndoi*. 
 
 The one in which her excellence was most evidently pro- 
 gressive was "Phedre." It was not until her return from 
 Russia, when her talent was in its maturity, that she fully 
 realized this superhuman conception of the poet. 
 
 It was remarked that she had brought back from her dis- 
 tant excursion the art she either had not before, or had never 
 deemed necessary — the art of pantomime. When, in France, 
 Rachel had uttered in her deep, clear, sonorous tones the 
 poetry of Corneille and Racine, the poets were sufficient in 
 themselves ; they were at home, and loved and appreciated ; 
 the public knew the text, and needed no paraphrase. But 
 the priestess had borne her gods into an unknown region, es- 
 tablished their altars in an unconsecrated temple, amid unbe- 
 lieving nations ; the pythoness spoke a strange tongue ; tlie 
 melody of those eloquent oracles fell into sealed ears, and the 
 human passions to which she gave a voice were mute to those 
 deaf spectators. Something that appealed to the eye was 
 wanting there, and the intelligent interpreter supplied it. And 
 when she brought back this new faculty, even those who had 
 never found it lacking exulted in the acquisition, and tlie de- 
 tractors, who would formerly only acknowledge she was a 
 splendid reader, dared no longer thus qualify their praise. 
 
 The character played was now not in the voice and look 
 only of the actress, but in her whole being. The voice 
 of the actor has but a limited part to play in the event. 
 When he ceases to speak the interest is transferred to the 
 next speaker, and so on from one to the other of the dra- 
 matis personce. With Rachel the case stood wholly difier-
 
 282 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 ent. She concentrated the tragedy on herself. She embodied 
 the event — began and developed it — foreshadowed the end. 
 She incarnated the character, the action. When she appear- 
 ed as Phcdre, bending under the weight of the diadem that 
 burned that brow like a fiery circle, shrinking from the veils 
 that enrobed her, she was the type of suffering, the living 
 image of Destiny's victim ; her curse and her crime are pres- 
 ent throughout the play. 
 
 It was more especially in the death-scene that Eachel typi- 
 fied with mute, thrilling eloquence the Greek victim. The 
 agony, so calm, so proud, so dignified, is truly that of the 
 God-descended queen, who disdains to betray the mortal pangs 
 that rack her terrestrial nature. Pantomime is not only al- 
 most impossible to describe, but is also one of the most diffi- 
 cult things to imitate. It might perhaps be very dangerous 
 for any one else to attempt the reproduction of gestures unless 
 they conveyed as vividly the terrific idea. 
 
 It was not till after fifteen years bad elapsed that Eachel 
 e rose to P]icdre, and presented that extraordinary combination 
 of pagan passion and Christian remorse, where Eui-ipides ap- 
 pears to have inspired Racine, and to which an Athenian au- 
 dience of his day would have listened with as great delight 
 and surprise as the enthusiastic Parisians of the nineteenth 
 century. 
 
 It need scarcely be added that the fascinating actress ce- 
 mented anew her empire, and was recalled with deafening 
 applause. 
 
 On the 6th of June, the celebration of the anniversary of 
 Corneille's birth-day, the inauguration of which Avas due to 
 Mademoiselle Eachel, took place at the Theatre Fran^ais. 
 The tragedy was " Les Horaces." Between the acts the tra- 
 gedienne recited a poem in honor of Corneille, "La Muse His- 
 torique," by M. Theodore de Bauville. Language has been 
 exhausted to convey an idea of Rachel's Camille. Nothing 
 has been left unsaid. Whatever might be the rank assigned 
 by the author to his personages, the actress took the first for 
 hers. Voltaire considered the end of the fourth act as an 
 episode ; with Mademoiselle Rachel it was a second play, so 
 new, so eloquent, so appalling, that it effaced all remembrance
 
 MEMOIRS Of RACHEI-. 283 
 
 of the first, and when she had finished all seemed to end with 
 her, for the public thought neither of the old father nor of the 
 youthful victor, nor of Sabine, nor o{ Emile, still less of Valcre, 
 or of the salvation of Rome too cheaply puixhased with the 
 grief and desolation of a single house. 
 
 In Corneille the episode begins with the monologue of 
 Camille. With Mademoiselle Eachel the play begins with the 
 first scene of the fourth act. And when, too, Valere relates 
 the combat that ends with her lover's death, the mute but ter- 
 rifically eloquent by-play of the actress engrossed all the atten- 
 tion of the public. No one thought of the old man who had 
 lost his two brave sons, but gained eternal honor by the third ; 
 all the tragedy was in the brow, the sinking form of Camille. 
 
 That which constituted the' superiority of Kachel Avas the 
 unique, the superlative grace that was in every motion — a 
 gi'ace that no violence of passion coidd annul. This grace, 
 mingling with the terror she so readily conveyed to every 
 heart, acted like a magical charm that subdued and ravished 
 all who saw her, yet was inexplicable to the very ones who 
 acknowledged its influence. 
 
 She risked every thing and seemed to risk nothing. She 
 dared more than the author; she went beyond him in reality, 
 yet she had so completely the art of assimilating what she did 
 to the tragedy itself, that she and it were identified. She 
 dallied with the agonies of the flesh. She imitated to perfec- 
 tion the work of physical destruction, and yet the body, the 
 obedient instrument of her will, which reproduced with such 
 frightful truth the shivering, the convulsive throes of approach- 
 ing death, transformed that horror into an ideal of grace. 
 Every one has witnessed the scene ; there is nothing new, and 
 yet the effect is as powerful the last as the first time ; there 
 was a something there that could neither weaken nor fall. 
 
 With Mademoiselle Rachel there was no counting of time, 
 of lines, of verses; the real tragedy was in her heart, and the 
 spectator followed its action on her brow, in her motions; ac- 
 cording to her inspiration, she gave you at times a whole 
 scene in a line, in a word. Her deepest dejection, her weak- 
 ness, were full of might. However crushed she appeared by 
 the blow, you felt instinctively she would pass suddenly from
 
 284 aiEMOiRS OP rachel. 
 
 that prostration to the extreme of fury ; that the violence of 
 the passion would outstep all limits ; that amid this wild rage, 
 this apparently ungovernable outbreak, there was a strong 
 will curbing and subduing it all : there was inspiration guided 
 by study, passionate ardor restrained by cool judgment. 
 
 This part always remained a favorite one with the tixigedi- 
 enne. WheiTver she went, she made her debut in it on every 
 stage. It was in this i-ule she appeared on the most impor- 
 tant day of her life — that which decided her fate — that on 
 which the doors of the temple were first opened to admit its 
 future priestess — that on which she was to set foot for the 
 first time on the stage that was to see her so triumphant. 
 
 For the following account of the scene we have the author- 
 ity of Monsieur Janin : 
 
 It was the summer of 1838. Some half a dozen persons 
 had assembled in the darkened theatre, glad to escape the 
 blaze of the noon-day sun, but anxious to get through the 
 wearisome task before them — that of hearing, for the hund- 
 redth time, perhaps, the finest poetry in the French language 
 marred by the wretched delivery of a new claimant of the 
 three debuts granted to those deemed worthy : the judges were 
 to decide whether the public should be called to endure the 
 ennui they had themselves tested. 
 
 The appearance of the neophyte was not prepossessing. 
 Scant, mean apparel, a pale face and meagre figure, betokened 
 a childhood spent amid the want and privations attendant on 
 poverty, and gave the idea that at that very moment the girl 
 might be suffering from hunger. What could be hoped from 
 such a source ? Who would have ventured to prophesy that the 
 shadow before them was the reality and the life — the resur- 
 rection of the art ; that the gruff" but weak voice was to say 
 to the slumbering poets. Arise and follow me ? The assembled 
 judges were there as a matter of form, to get through an in- 
 dispensable task ; not from any conviction of its use, for they 
 had ceased to believe in the return of the tragic Muse since 
 she had fled bearing in the folds of her tunic her last repre- 
 sentatives. Talma and Duchesnois. 
 
 The girl came forward, but, contrary to all expectations, 
 she did not, with frantic gestures, bawling voice, and time- 
 consecrated emphasis, give the
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 285 
 
 "Rome ! I'unique objet ! de mon ressentiment!" 
 with eyes that suddenly gleamed like living coals in their dark 
 orbits. She uttered in a low, deep, firm tone, as though she 
 spoke to herself, words tliat really doomed to destruction the 
 proud city : 
 
 "Eome Tunique objet de mou ressentiment." 
 
 It was evident this was no mere transitory anger, no burst 
 of evanescent fury. There was a depth of passion, of concen- 
 trated, earnest, implacable resentment, the more fearful as it 
 was not violently demonstrative ; indeed, there was hardly a 
 gesture ; but, as she proceeded in those terrific anathemas, the 
 impression on the hearers was that made by the approaching 
 storm — at first low and distant, but coming nearer and nearer 
 at every fearful peal, and finally bursting over their heads, scat- 
 tering ruin and destruction. Each of the astonished judges 
 looked at his neighbor's face to read his thoughts. The wisest 
 deemed the thing accidental, a freak of chance. None there 
 saw the signs of a revolution. All agreed to give the girl the 
 solicited permission to play thrice on their stage ; after which 
 they went to dinner, and thought no more about it. 
 
 CHAPTER XX^ail. 
 
 1854. 
 
 The first real Affliction. — Death of Rebecca Felix. — The Rosary. — 
 The "Pardon." — Miss Sniithson. — Mademoiselle Sontag. — A Warn- 
 ing. — A Letter from M. Legouve. — Letters from Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel and her Secretary. — Mademoiselle Rachel condemned to play 
 "Medee." — Mademoiselle Rachel doesn't play "Medee." — "Rose- 
 monde." — Another Miscalculation. 
 
 AinD these continual triumphs, obtained, as it were, against 
 the will of the very ones who contributed their meed of ap- 
 plause, a great grief, the first real one that had ever been felt 
 by the tragedienne during the course of her feted and brilliant 
 career, interrupted this happy life, this long summer's day. 
 Her favorite sister Eebecca died. 
 
 Rebecca Felix, when in her fifteenth year, in 1843, made 
 her debut in Chhncne. She continued some time to act in 
 tragedy, but good sense, personified in the person of her father.
 
 286 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 soon saw an imminent danger in her following in the footsteps 
 of a sister who had already taken the first place in that branch 
 of dramatic art. The lesser light could not fail to be lost in 
 the stronger rays of the greater luminary. Rebecca could at 
 best be but a faint copy of her sister. Her vocation was, 
 therefore, very judiciously altered, and she entered the easier 
 walks of the drama and of comedy. Her last and best effort 
 was in " Mademoiselle de Belle-Isle." But a long complaint 
 that had succeeded a typhus fever cut short a career which, if 
 it did not promise to be as brilliant as that of her sister, gave 
 hope of some distinction. 
 
 Rebecca was — and deservedly so — the favorite sister of the 
 tragedienne. We have seen, by her letter to M. Legouve, that 
 on her return from Russia she had hastened to visit the dear 
 sufferer tlien in the Pyrenees, where she Avas waiting to take 
 the Eaux Bonnes. When her conge expired she was com- 
 pelled to resume her duties at the Theatre Fran^ais. She 
 continued, notwithstanding, her watchful cai'e over her sister, 
 and, while acting twice a week, managed to perform the jour- 
 ney to and fro thrice in as many weeks. 
 
 An incident occurred during one of these flying trips which 
 proves not only the excitable nature of Rachel, but also that 
 the visit to the Vatican had made a more permanent impres- 
 sion than was supposed. 
 
 The disease, according to the wont of that treacherous mal- 
 ady, had appeared to take a favorable turn ; the alarming 
 symptoms had momentarily vanished ; the patient was sud- 
 denly relieved. Mademoiselle Rachel, who had been a con- 
 stant attendant for some days, took the opportunity to go and 
 see Sarah, who was confined by some temporary indisposition 
 to her own lodgings. Several friends were assembled in the 
 room, and, exhilarated by the good news she had brought and 
 the hopes all hastened to build on the change. Mademoiselle 
 Rachel began to chat and laugh quite merrily. In the midst 
 of this exuberant gayety her maid broke into the room in a 
 state of great excitement : a fit had come on ; the patient was 
 in much danger ; the physician desired Mademoiselle Rachel's 
 immediate presence. Rising with the bound of a wounded 
 tigress, the ti-agedienne seemed to seek, bewildered, some cause
 
 MEMOIRS OF RA.CHEL. 287 
 
 for the blow that fell thus unexpectedly. Her eye lighted on 
 a I'osaiy blessed by the Pope, and which she had worn round 
 her arm as a bracelet ever since her visit to Konie. Without 
 perhaps, accounting to herself for the belief, she had attached 
 some talisraanic virtue to the beads. Now, however, in the 
 height of her rage and disappointment, she tore them from 
 her wrist, and, dashing them to the ground, exclaimed, " Oh ! 
 fatal gift ! 'tis thou hast entailed this curse upon me !" With 
 these words she sprang out of the room, leaving every one in 
 mute astonishment at her frantic action. 
 
 On the 23d of June, four sisters and a mother brought back 
 to the father's house in Paris the body of the lamented lost 
 one. On the day of the burial a scene took place of the most 
 moving description, and in which the different tempers of two 
 of the survivors were brought to light very forcibly. 
 
 There is a rite among the Jews denominated the Pardon. 
 Before the body of a deceased child of Israel is carried out to 
 be buried, the relatives, one after the other, go up to it, and, 
 calling out the name several times, invoke forgiveness for any 
 ill examples or ill treatment they may have been guilty of to- 
 ward tl>e deceased when living, ending with the repetition three 
 times of the word pardon ! pardon ! pardon ! When it came 
 to Sarah's turn, the consciousness of her manifold errors came 
 over her with terrible force, and, joined to the horror and grief 
 of the moment, so overpowered that sensitive, excitable, pas- 
 sionate nature, that, falling prostrate on the ground, she 
 shrieked the name of the dead one in heart-rending tones, 
 calling with sobs and tears for forgiveness. 
 
 There were two strangers present, two Christians, the actor 
 Laferriere and a lady. When Sarah was raised and taken 
 out, the mother said hurriedly to the Christians, " It is Rachel's 
 turn now ; for God's sake, go ; do not look at her — do not 
 stop." 
 
 *'No," added young Dinah, "don't stay; don't let Rachel 
 think you watch her." The consciousness all the family had 
 of Rachel's reserved, peculiar disposition, and the respect with 
 which they submitted to its exactions, is surprising. 
 
 The strangers of course withdrew, but not before they had 
 caught a glimpse of Rachel, led by her father, approaching
 
 288 ME3IOIRS OF RACHKL. 
 
 mute, with brow deeply gathered, while all the other members 
 of the family stood aside, seemingly dreading what was com- 
 
 ing 
 
 Mademoiselle Rachel withdrew into Belgium after this loss. 
 Her health required change of scene, and she chose Brussels, 
 that she might be near the physician in whom she placed most 
 
 reliance. 
 
 Miss Smithson, the English actress who had made so favor- 
 able an impression in PVance, died in the spring of this year. 
 The French critics exhausted every expression of regret on 
 this untimely loss. 
 
 But in the autumn the news reached Europe of a death 
 that was more deeply felt than either of the preceding ones — 
 that of Henrietta Sontag, Countess Rossi. Though the world- 
 wide celebrated cantatrice had fulfilled the career, in regard to 
 years, of a singer — though hers could not be called a prema- 
 ture loss, like those of the two actresses carried off, the one in 
 the full flush of youth, the other in the maturity of her talent, 
 there Avere circumstances attending it that rendered it far 
 more sad and gloomy than theirs. This noble-hearted woman, 
 venturing again on the scene of former triumphs at the risk 
 of withering the laurels of past yeai'S and annihilating the very 
 memory of her fame, seeking in a neAV world to recuperate the 
 loss of fortune entailed on her children, and dying in that far- 
 distant land away from those for whom she struggled so val- 
 iantly and whom she loved so dearly, left deep regrets in the 
 hearts of all those who had known her. The amiability and 
 kindness of her disposition, her conduct as a Avife and as a moth- 
 er, had Avon her as much love and respect in private life as her 
 vocal talents had fame and admiration in her public career. 
 From the Grand-Duke, Avho does honor to her memory with 
 the crown of silver laurels he deposits on her coffin, to the 
 poor Avaiting-maid Avho Avith tears continually recalls the con- 
 stant goodness of her mistress, the laments her loss occasioned 
 Avere heard from the lips of all Avho had been privileged to 
 approach h*er. 
 
 This year, too, died one Avhose life and end contrast sadly 
 Avith the last, and should be a useful lesson to the young and 
 presumptuous, who deem that headstrong will and ambition
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 289 
 
 constitute power, were thej ever willing to take warning from 
 such terrible examples. 
 
 "NVliile Mademoiselle I^chel was throning at the Theatre 
 Fran^ais in the full maturity of her powers, and receivino' 
 more applause and broad pieces than any of her predecessors 
 had ever done, one, who at the very commencement of her 
 successful career had attempted competition with her, was ex- 
 piring on board a miserable craft bound for that refwjium pec- 
 ccUorum, California. The body, wrapped in an old sail, with 
 a huge mass of coal as weight, and thrown into the deep with 
 few regrets and fewer prayers, was all that remained of the 
 once gay, vain, handsome Helena Gaussin. 
 
 Like many other unfortunates who, in the outset of life, 
 mistake high spirits, minds impatient of restraint, and confi- 
 dent self-esteem for the qualities that insure success, and im- 
 agine that bright eyes and fine forms will compensate the lack 
 of good sense, judgment, and experience, Helena had added 
 one more to the host of aspirants who, allured by the marvel- 
 ous good fortune of the young Jewess, deemed that they also 
 were entitled to dispute the scenic palm. She bore a name 
 that was in itself a title, but she justified it only in its worst 
 acceptation, and imitated her famous homomjme only in the 
 foibles that obscured her artistic fame ; for of the great points 
 that distinguished the Mademoiselle Gaussin of 1731, her 
 namesake of 1840 possessed not one. 
 
 Those who saw her in her debuts in classic tragedy at the 
 Ode'on, mistaking her eclat, her dashing style, for inspiration, 
 for Xhe. feu sacre, admiring her splendid stature and regal gait, 
 prophesied a second Mademoiselle Georges. She certainly re- 
 called her beauty, but not her talent. She made no progress, 
 though she had numerous opportunities of advancement, had 
 she possessed the requisite qualities. Unfortunately, she 
 could not see where the fault really was. Of an excitable 
 temper, extreme in good or evil, and ungovernable in either 
 case, she threw the blame of her defeat on her whom she de- 
 nominated her rival, Rachel, and attempted revenge by hissing 
 her. This impotent expression of rage sealed her fate. After 
 the scene of tumult and disorder to which her unbridled rage 
 had given rise, she was forcibly expelled, and the doors of the 
 
 N
 
 290 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Theatre Fran9ais were forever closed against her. She took 
 refuge in the provinces, and reigned there with uncontrolled 
 sway for some time. Her next appearance in the columns of the 
 newspapers was in a very different character — to her name 
 was attached the ignominious epithet of thief. The Merope 
 had stolen dinner-plate. Athalie had enveloped her diadem 
 in the greasy napkins of a restaurante. When she came out 
 of prison a man was found generous enough to give his name 
 to conceal her shame. But nothing could save her. Once 
 again she was on the police sheets for theft; once more that 
 beautiful hair was cut, and she was sent to keep company 
 with the lowest and most abandoned of her sex. 
 
 Mistaken vanity had crazed the Aveak brains, and the next 
 time poor Helena was heard of was in the role of a prophet- 
 ess, preaching a new gospel, receiving communications from 
 the divinity. In 1848 she was apprehended on the Barri- 
 cades, where, with waving banner and frantic words, this Tisi- 
 phone was inciting the populace to deeds of blood. 
 
 It was then that some charitable persons, pitying the deg- 
 radation and wretchedness of the poor outcast, obtained 
 means for her to be sent to California, and it was on her way 
 thither that, worn out by excesses of every description, alone 
 and friendless, the unhappy creature died, having, in the course 
 of an existence that lasted but thirty years, run the gauntlet 
 of every sin and every shame. 
 
 Notwithstanding the last-announced resignation. Mademoi- 
 selle Rachel reappeared on the 18th of September in the role of 
 Marie Stuart, playing with a perfection of entente de la scene 
 that she had never before displayed in this, one of the greatest 
 of Schiller's conceptions — one which the French translator 
 could not wholly spoil. 
 
 But, while Mademoiselle Rachel delighted the public, in 
 whose good graces she now seemed completely reinstated, she 
 had either forgotten, or she did not choose to remember, that 
 in the month of April she had written to M. Legouve, " At 
 the expu'ation of my conge I will undertake 'Medee.'" M. 
 Legouve had not the same motives for short memory, and, 
 seeing she took no notice of him or his production, though 
 she had made her rentrce in May, ventured to recall it to her.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 291 
 
 She again sought an excuse in her sister's illness ; her grief 
 incapacitated her from studying a new rule. But the subter- 
 fuge was of no avail ; the poet would be put off no longer, 
 and returned the following answer, written in a spirit of in- 
 flexibility quite foreign to his nature, but always within the 
 limits of courtesy he was incapable of outstepping : 
 
 " Dear Madabie, — No one can sympathize more deeply 
 with the sorrows of others than one who, like myself, has ex' 
 perienced similar ones, and I also know how much courage is 
 required to undertake any kind of occupation when the heart 
 is full of anxiety. But, alas ! the stern law of necessity gov- 
 erns us all. We are all compelled to pursue the exercise of 
 our profession amid anxieties of all kinds, and I may add that 
 this necessity of labor is perhaps the only real alleviation of 
 deep grief. 
 
 " You have had within your own knowledge a very striking 
 proof of this. Four years ago, one of your most honorable 
 comrades, M. Regnier, lost his daughter ; but he had promised 
 M. Augier he would play in ' Gabrielle,' and the success he 
 obtained in that play was all the more gratifying from the 
 consciousness that in subduing a grief he had accomplished a 
 duty and obliged a friend. 
 
 " I can well understand, dear madame, that in the first mo- 
 ments of grjef the recent sight of the dear patient occasions 
 you should dread the creation of a new role, but I am also 
 sure that on reflection you will acknowledge that we have no 
 right to sacrifice the interests of others to any private con- 
 siderations of our own, even the most legitimate, and that 
 you will seek support in an increased devotion to the duties 
 incumbent upon you and in the interests which have been 
 confided to you. 
 
 " This is, perhaps, a very serious letter, dear madame, but 
 I know to. whom I write it. I may add that it is even in the 
 name of your dear sister herself that I ask you to resume 
 again the rehearsals of ' Medee.' You know she liked the 
 work, and already foresaw you in it full of passion and pathos. 
 Give her, then, the greatest pleasure she can owe you, the 
 news of a new success obtained by you. 
 
 " I remain. &c„ Lerouve."
 
 292 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 This letter made no impression on her to -whom it was ad- 
 dressed. Seeing, however, that the position was becoming 
 one of immediate difficulty, she had recourse to the ordinary 
 and extraordinary diplomatic negotiations. She commissioned 
 the disci'eet and skillful agent who had been the former medi- 
 um of communication to signify her ultimatum to M.Legouve, 
 and with this object addressed to Mademoiselle de Saigneville 
 a letter, which the latter was to show to the author, but not 
 leave in his hands. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Saiejieville commenced on the 20th of 
 September her negotiation as follows : 
 
 " It is with the deepest grief, dear M. Legouve, that I send 
 you my friend's letter (I beg you will return it as soon as you 
 have read it). 
 
 "I will not seek to justify Rachel's conduct toward you. 
 You see that she herself acknowledges her fault, and that she 
 is right in believing that I give her a great proof of my at- 
 tachment in consenting to communicate so sad a resolution to 
 you. But believe me, do not insist ; make this sacrifice to the 
 future. She has obtained another leave of absence. She will 
 return again next year, and, if you are generous enough to re- 
 main her friend, how powerful Avill be your right to make her 
 play in some other work ! She has resolved never to create 
 another modern tragic part. She says the ar^pient classic 
 repertory will furnish her with more characters than she can 
 create. (And here she may be right.) 
 
 " Come, now, be noble and generous ; set to work, write 
 for her an interesting drama, such as you know so well how 
 to make, and we shall all be happy. Saigneville." 
 
 The letter alluded to as accompanying the above ran as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 " Dear Louise, — I come to beg you will undertake a mis- 
 sion to M. Lesrouve. I know well how disagreeable it will 
 be to you, but you have so accustomed me to your kind of- 
 fices that I do not fear to rely on them in such a case of ne- 
 cessity.
 
 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 293 
 
 " T positively can not Y>hiy Meclce. It is in vain that I have 
 rndcavored to undertake it. I have gone so far as to learn 
 all the first act, but I have such an antipathy to the part that 
 it were vain for me to expect sympathy in a character that is 
 almost odious, and that is too Avell known to cause any sensa- 
 tion in the public, even in the most terrific passages. You 
 see, dear friend, what a task I am giving you. I dare not 
 write to M. Legouvd, fearing he should come to me imme- 
 diately, and indeed I am not sufliciently restored to my usual 
 health to look at and listen* coolly to the almost deserved re- 
 proaches which the author of ' Medee' has perhaps a right to 
 make, for I have accepted the role ; I have even rehearsed it 
 twice at the theatre ; but, although I may have been tenfold 
 wrong, I can not bind myself to play well a part unsuited to 
 my tragic powers. I can not, therefore, go forward and risk 
 a failure when the moment when I shall quit the stage is not 
 far distant. 
 
 " Go and see, or write to M. Legouve. What I exact of 
 your love for me, for out* Adrienne, is that M. Legouve will 
 still remain my friend, despite the vexation I cause him, and 
 which I so earnestly desire to cancel some day. 
 
 "'Les Horaces' greatly fatigued me this evening. To- 
 morrow I shall go and breathe the air of Montmorency ; for 
 Heaven's sake, use your endeavors that M. Legouve be not 
 too angry with me. You know how very little suffices to 
 shake my poor nerves and cause me great suffering. 
 
 "I am your devoted friend; prove to me on this occasion 
 that I can also rely on'you. Rachel." 
 
 This desire, so coaxingly expressed, to be friends with the 
 author, even the tender allusion to his play, "our Adrienne" 
 all was insufficient to fool him any longer ; his patience was 
 exhausted, and Mademoiselle Rachel was again sued to appear 
 on the 19 th of October. 
 
 In the mean while she continued to play her classic roles, 
 delighting the numerous spectators who, attracted by the Ex- 
 
 * When Mademoiselle Hachel sent this letter it is probable she had 
 not her usual secretary at hand, and was obliged to indite as well as 
 write it herself.
 
 294 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 position Universelle from every part of Europe to Paris, took 
 that opportunity of hearing her. The poor young woman lit- 
 tle foresaw that this was the last season but one she would be 
 permitted to display her talent on the French stage, on which, 
 had she been less grasping, less eager for rapid gains, she 
 might have pursued a longer, more lasting, and moi-e glorious 
 career. 
 
 In the mean while the day appointed for the trial arrived. 
 On the 18th of October the hall of the Tribunal de Premiere 
 Instance was crowded. M. de Belleyme, a magistrate as well 
 known for his strict principles of justice as for his love of arts, 
 presided. The born champion of the victims of their passions 
 and of artists of every kind, M. Chaix-d'Est-Ange, was there, 
 ready to cover Mademoiselle Rachel's sins with the folds of 
 his toga, while M. Mathieu, a clever and witty young lawyer, 
 was appointed to expose the griefs suffered by M. Lcgouve. 
 
 The task of the latter was not a difficult one, for the proofs 
 were numerous and clear. 
 
 The orator thought proper to take up the matter in hand 
 from the beginning of the friendship that had existed between 
 his client and Mademoiselle Rachel. Having dwelt on the 
 motives that had given rise to that friendship, and entitled the 
 author to some gratitude on the part of the actress, he gave 
 the origin of " Medee," written at Mademoiselle Rachel's re- 
 quest, enthusiastically applauded by her and the competent 
 areopagus assembled in her salon to decide on its merits, in 
 confirmation of which, letters were read addressed to M. Le- 
 gouve by Messieurs Henri, Martin, and Charlton ; the subse- 
 quent reception of the play by the comite de lecture of the the- 
 atre and its rehearsel there, also corroborated by letters from 
 Messieurs Haitland, Regnier, Maubant, and Davesne. M. 
 Mathieu then related the fickle conduct of the actress, her 
 several capricious refusals, her want of good faith, the conde- 
 scension of M. Legouve on the eve of her departure for Russia. 
 
 " He was not aware," exclaimed the eloquent advocate, 
 " that this great artiste, whose excursion had cost the Theatre 
 Frantjais more than 200,000 francs, had another god besides 
 her art. He was soon obliged to recognize that, for her, the 
 stage was but a means — gold was her aim."
 
 JIEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 295 
 
 He then stigmatized her conduct toward France, to whom 
 she Avas bound, who could have opposed her voyage to Russia, 
 and yet who generously furthered it, receiving in return as a 
 testimonial of the actress's gratitude the notification of her 
 resignation on her return. M. Legouve shared the same fate ; 
 he, too, was rewarded for all the proofs of devoted friendship 
 he had shown her by the notification that "decidedly she 
 could not play Mcdce" 
 
 The orator concluded by saying that French literature was 
 interested in the question. 
 
 "It must not," said he, "be left to the mercy of Mademoi- 
 selle Rachel's caprices. It was not thus that Talma acted. 
 Many authors have had cause to complain of Mademoiselle 
 Rachel's fantastic versatility. She also refused to play ' La 
 Fille du Cid' after accepting the part. ' Virginie,' ' Char- 
 lotte Corday,' 'Fredcgonde and Brunehaut' were alike accepted, 
 rejected, and accepted again without reason. Mademoiselle 
 Rachel must be compelled, under some severe penalty, to keep 
 her ensasements. It is much to excite admiration, but esteem 
 is of more value ; and nothing can make amends for want of 
 integrity, not even glory." 
 
 The case of Mademoiselle Rachel was a difficult one to de- 
 fend, and with all his skill M. Chaix-d'Est-Ange could not 
 prove that she had not solicited M. Legouve''s tragedy, that 
 she had not personally approved and applauded it, that she 
 had not caused it to be rehearsed, had not taken her part and 
 distributed the others, and that, after numerous and long de- 
 lays, she had not, under fallacious pretenses, refused the Avork. 
 
 The only part of his plea in which he could retort with 
 some show of success his adversary's arguments was when he 
 endeavored to answer the reproach that Rachel had but one 
 idol — gold. He insisted that the reproach was equally ap- 
 plicable to the other side. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Rachel," said he, " is accused of loving gold 
 beyond all things, beyond her art, beyond her glory. Gold is 
 her god. Yet we notice that M. Legouve has not for gold 
 the contempt he would lead us to infer he had. lie begins 
 by claiming 40,000 francs damages. It Avould ill become him 
 to affect indifference for pecuniary interests. No, no ; gold 
 for him is no chimera."
 
 296 IMEMOIRS OF RACHKL. 
 
 M. Legouve, however, immediately paralyzed the effect of 
 this argument ad hominem, by declaring that he had fixed the 
 amount for the sake of form only ; that he renounced it alto- 
 gether, and left the penalty entirely to the discretion of the 
 tribunal. 
 
 The court decided against Mademoiselle Kachel, who was 
 to resume and continue "on the days designated by the man- 
 agement of the Theatre Francjais" the rehearsals of "Medee," 
 and act the part designated for her by the author, or in de- 
 fault thereof to pay to M. Legouve damages to the amount 
 of 200 francs for every day she delayed doing so, and that 
 during two months, after which a farther decision would be 
 taken. i 
 
 This decision would seem, at first sight, very satisfactory to 
 M. Legouve ; it was, however, followed by no result, the man- 
 agement of the Theatre Frangais, to whom was left the right 
 of appointing the days of rehearsal, having failed to do so. 
 It was not until some time after that M. Legouve was to 
 obtain a more adequate compensation for the injury he had 
 sustained. 
 
 As for Mademoiselle Eachel, she was on the eve of finding 
 in her very ingratitude its severe and deserved punishment. 
 If she had disdained the charms of " Medee," it was not on 
 account of the little failings and misdeeds of the enchantress, 
 but because she had been allured by a dame of like gentle 
 temper, one Rosemonde ; not the fair Rosamond of English 
 ballads and tradition, Avhose ijcauty was fatal to herself alone, 
 but a Lombard queen whom M. Latour de St. Ybars aroused 
 from her peaceful slumbers in the old nooks of Gothic story 
 to bring before the Parisians under the patronage of Made- 
 moiselle Kachel. 
 
 It appeal's that Mademoiselle Rachel had knocked at more 
 than one door to obtain the " short tragedy containing one 
 very brilliant part" which she had solicited of M. Legouve. 
 "Medee," with her three acts and her suite, was not what 
 she wished ; " Rosemonde," with her one act and three per- 
 sonages, pleased her better. " Medee" was a role of the an- 
 cient repertoire, minus the superiority of the great masters. 
 " Rosemonde" was the frantic, disheveled offspring of young
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 297 
 
 literature, that was to stand forward with eclat in tlic gallery 
 of antiques that constituted Mademoiselle Eachel's dramatic 
 luggage. 
 
 It now became plain that while the tragedienne was alleging 
 her health, her resignation, her excursions, her domestic afflic- 
 tions to avoid playing Medce, declaring solemnly she never in- 
 tended creating another rule, that fear would paralyze her 
 powers, that the press would not sustain her, that she would 
 not risk compromising seventeen years of success by a failure, 
 she was at that very time busy studying Rosemonde. She was 
 learning it in secret with the passionate enthusiasm she had 
 sho^\^l for Louise de LigneroUes. She flattered herself with the 
 hope of crowning her Parisian career with a brilliant triumph, 
 and deemed she could carry to America a play, short and easy 
 to get up, that Avould afford an opportunity for the display of 
 all her powers, and the entire interest of which would centre 
 in herself. 
 
 Tlie decision of the court that sentenced Mademoiselle Ea- 
 chel to play " Medee" was pronounced on the 21st of October. 
 On the 27th of November, Mademoiselle Rachel, encourao^ed 
 by the complaisant complicity of the manager, appeared for 
 the first time in " Eosemonde." 
 
 What motive could have actuated the tragedienne t© adopt 
 so strange a course it is difficult to imagine. It could scarce- 
 ly be that the remembrance of her success in " Yirginie" was 
 proof against that of her failure in the absurd "Vieux de la 
 Montague." At any rate, whatever hopes author and actress 
 had raised on the present preposterous creation wei'e doomed 
 to disappointment. Mademoiselle Eachel had hoped that hor- 
 ror carried to the utmost limits would cause a great sensation. 
 The effect was the opposite to that expected; the spectators 
 were rather inclined to laughter — the great tragedienne was 
 simply ridiculous! 
 
 "Eosemonde," withal, possessed one merit, and that a very 
 great one in the present case — there was but one act of it. 
 Yet it was a tragedy, and the author, by virtue of that title, 
 had a right to inflict five acts on the public. Notwithstand- 
 ing what some modern author says, that it is " so easy not to 
 make tragedies in five acts," some credit is due toM.Latour 
 
 N 2
 
 298 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 St. Ybars for his forbearance. He suppressed the first four 
 and served up the hist only, crowding into that one all the 
 horrors he was at liberty to have spread over five acts. 
 
 The theme chosen is one of the ferocious incidents that 
 abound in the early history of eveiy nation. The author can 
 not be accused of having altered or disguised historical truth ; 
 on the contrary, he has veiled none of its hideous nakedness, 
 he has softened none of the revolting particulars. 
 
 M. Latour evidently meant to draw forth all the chief char- 
 acteristics of Mademoiselle Rachel. His attempt was not al- 
 together ill founded. Setting aside the impossibihty of recon- 
 ciling with the laws of modern taste the ghoulish incidents he 
 allowed to stand, there were dramatic points which a great 
 poet would have made very effective. But, unfortunately, in 
 " Rosemonde" we have the most intensely tragic occurrences 
 developed in the most trivial, weak, nerveless language. The 
 ferocity of the idea is completely lost in the tameness of the 
 expression ; that which in the magnificent, passionate, all- 
 powerful poetry of Victor Hugo would have sent a thrill of 
 terror through every heart, in the milk-and-water style of M. 
 Latour caused ennui or derision. 
 
 According to the chronicler, after reigning three years and 
 a half.in Italy, Alboin was assassinated by his wife in 373. 
 The cause of the crime was the following : 
 
 The Idng, having become excited with wine during a ban- 
 quet, ordered that a bowl, made of her fathei-'s skull, should 
 be presented to the queen, bidding her joyously drink with her 
 father {iit cum iiatre suo Icetanter biberet). 
 
 " The thing," adds the old narrator, Paul Diacre, " may 
 appear impossible, but I speak the truth in Jesus Christ — I 
 have seen the bowl." 
 
 The unfortunate Rosemonde being informed afterward what 
 bloody trophy had touched her lips, vowed revenge. Plaving 
 seduced the king's armor-bearer, Helmichis, and Peredeus, one 
 of the bravest champions among the Lombards, she caused the 
 king to be assassinated. 
 
 M. Latour, suppressing such details of the seductions em- 
 ployed by the queen as were too disgusting for the stage, and 
 which may be found at length in Gibbon's " Decline and Fall
 
 MEMOIKS OK KACIIEL. 299 
 
 of the Roman Empire," gives the story in all its barbaric 
 horrors. 
 
 Alboiti, King of the Lombards, having vanquished and kill- 
 ed Cummund, King of the Gepidix?, chooses among the captives 
 Rosemonde, the daughter of his late foe, for his queen. At a 
 banquet given to celebrate his victory, the barbarian, mad- 
 dened with the fumes of debauch, compels Rosevionde to drink 
 from the skull of her father. Among the earls of Alboin is 
 one who, having been sent some time previous to the war on 
 an embassy to her father's court, had seen and fallen in love 
 with Rosemonde. Absent on another expedition at the time 
 of the defeat of Cimimund, he returns to find the daughter has 
 been selected by the victor. Earl Didier is consequently the 
 fittest instrument for her vengeance. To arm his hand against 
 his king, she promises her own and the crown as his reward. 
 When the deed is perpetrated Rosemonde fulfills part of her 
 promise. She recommends Didier to the people as the successor 
 0? Alboin, and places the crown on his head. As for herself, she 
 dies on her father's grave of the poison she has taken. One 
 or two other deaths of minor importance fill up this frame- 
 work of murder, profanity, treason, and vengeance. 
 
 This tragical story has been dramatized more than once al- 
 ready by French poets. We find it put on the stage as far 
 back as the year 1G09 by Claude Billard, Prior of Canterbury, 
 the same who the following year caused the " Death of Henry 
 IV." to be played before JNIarie de Medicis in mourning. A 
 year or two before, Nicholas d'Argentan wrote his " Alboin 
 ou la Vengeance Trahie." In 1649, Balthazar Baro again 
 put " Rosemonde" upon the stage. In more modern times 
 Alfieri also chose this heroine, though not at the same period 
 of her life. Indeed, he laid aside the facts altogether, and sub- 
 stituted incidents of his own invention. 
 
 The choice of the locality itself, though historically faithful, 
 jars with all our preconceived ideas. True, all Italy was at 
 the time devastated by the barbaric hordes of the North ; yet 
 one would not wish to find the scene which the loves of Romeo 
 and Juliet have invested Avith such tender and melancholy as- 
 sociations, the fair city sought with delight by the antiquary 
 and anticipated so gracefully by the poet —
 
 300 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 "Are these the distant turrets of Verona? 
 And shall I sup where Juliet at tlie masque 
 Saw her loved Montague, and now sleeps by him ? — 
 
 selected as the charnel-house, the shambles in which wild 
 beasts enact their butcheries. M. Latour does not say with 
 Dante, * 
 
 " Vieni a veder Montecchi e Cappeletti." 
 
 He bids us look on a far difFei'ent scene. Here we have nei- 
 ther the rose nor the nightingale ; we have an orgie in which 
 besotted barbarians, drunk with the fumes of blood and wine, 
 and despairing captives, the living spoils of the most ferocious 
 war, are mingled ; the former are howling the burden of their 
 song of battle, with accompaniment of cymbals, horns, and 
 clashing shields. The song of the bard is in keeping with the 
 deeds he celebrates. • 
 
 Some dramatists are induced to choose their epoch and na- 
 tion on account of the picturesque beauty of the costume of 
 that time and people. If we consult the historian we Avill 
 hardly be inclined to accuse M. Latour of having been guided 
 by any such puerile considerations. 
 
 " The dress of the ancient Lombards consisted of loose linen 
 garments ; their legs and feet were clothed in long hose and 
 open sandals ; and even in the tranquillity of peace a sword 
 was constantly girt to their side ; their heads were shaven be- 
 hind, but their hair before hung over their eyes and mouth, 
 and a long beard represented the name and character of the 
 nation." 
 
 For farther particulars we have the testimony of Cunimund, 
 the Prince of the Gepidns : 
 
 "The Lombards," said the rude barbarian, "resemble in 
 figure and smell the mares of our Samaritan plains." 
 
 " Add another resemblance," replied an audacious Lom- 
 bard ; "you have felt how strongly they kick. Visit the 
 plains of Asfeld, and seek for the bones of thy brother ; they 
 arc mingled with those of the vilest animals." 
 
 The above interchange of compliments preceded the war 
 and atrocities which are the groundwork of the tragedy. 
 
 Whether the actress was terrified at tlie responsibility she 
 had assumed, or that, accustomed to the sublime beauties of
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 301 
 
 the classic 7-epertoire, she felt herself uninspired by this mod- 
 ernized tissue of horrors, and, losing confidence in its success 
 at the very moment of trial, lost confidence in her own powers, 
 or whether the attitude of the public disheartened her, from 
 whatever cause it might be, this character, so obstinately 
 adopted in spite of all taste, reason, and judgment, was ill- 
 sustained by her. It lingered a very few nights, and was then 
 dropped forever. 
 
 With its manifold faults, the play possessed points well 
 suited to Mademoiselle Kachel. It is said that Eacine bor- 
 rowed from the " Rosemonde" of Balthazar Bai'O the charac- 
 ter of IJermione — JMademoiselle Rachel's best part. The scene 
 of the Greek princess instigating Orestes to the murder of 
 Pyrrhus certainly presents a striking analogy Avith that in 
 which liosemonde endeavors to persuade Ermigius to slay Al- 
 boin ; the arguments used by Hermione and the answers of the 
 hesitating, reluctant Orestes, though clothed in the far superior 
 poetry of Racine, are the same, in reality, as those of Baro's 
 heroine and hero; then, again, there is so great a resemblance 
 in fact, between some of the situations of M. Latour's play 
 and those of " Andromaque," that it is somewhat strange Mad- 
 emoiselle Rachel did not feel sustained by the resemblance. 
 There are others, too, where her tragic expression and atti- 
 tudes had excellent opportunities of display ; for instance, in 
 the scene vi^here the tyrant, mortally wounded, drags himself 
 on the stage, and is met by liosemonde entering Avith a lamp 
 to ascertain if the deed has been well done. The king, on 
 retiring, had found Egilde, one of Eosemonde's women, dressed 
 in the regal robes, dead on his couch. He has mistaken her 
 for the queen he had chosen, and, being set upon by his mur- 
 derer, has had no time to discover his error ; hence his first 
 exclamation, Avhen the real Rosemonde meets him, a la Lady 
 Macbeth, with her lamp : 
 
 "Cette fcmme, quelle est cette femme?" 
 Rosemonde. 
 
 "La haine 
 "La vengeance, tardive, il est vraie, mais certaine." 
 
 Alhoin. 
 "Ah!"
 
 302 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Rosemonde. 
 "Eegarde-moi bien." 
 
 Alboin. 
 "Fantome, queveux-tu?" 
 
 Rosemonde. 
 " Je veux te voir mourir a mes pieds abattu." 
 
 Alboin (tombe prcs de sa couronne). 
 "Rosemonde! . . . elle est morte." 
 Rosemonde. 
 
 "Elle est encore vivante 
 Pour joitir de ta mort et de ton epouvante." 
 Alboin. 
 "Mes armesl dieux d'enfer !" &c., &c. 
 
 Rosemonde makes a long speech to the dying king, the pith 
 of which M. Latour found in the five magnificent lines of 
 Polynice to Eteocles, in Eacine's " Les Freres Ennemis :" 
 
 "Et tu meurs, lui dit il, et moi je vais regner 
 Regarde dans mes mains I'empire et la victoire 
 Va rougir aux enfers de I'exces de ma gloire ; 
 Et pour mourir encore avec plus de regret, 
 Traitre, songe en mouraut que tu meurs mon sonjet." 
 
 We can not say that Rosemonde's harangue is "sweetness 
 long drawn out," but the idea so concisely and powerfully 
 expressed by Eacine has been so expanded, diluted, spun out 
 in M. Latour's prosy style, that all the original horror is lost. 
 
 The coldness with which the public received this feast of 
 Atreus reacted on Mademoiselle Eachel. Her delivery was 
 so precipitate, hacked, and indistinet, that it was often neces- 
 sary to wait the reply to know the meaning of what she had 
 said. It was true that she was never quite mistress of herself 
 on first nights ; but, aside from the emotion incidental to the 
 fear of failure, there could not be in this queen of the French 
 stage, whose will was omnipotent, the anxiety of the young 
 and timid debutante, whose untried powers have few, if any, 
 chances of pleasing. She had chosen the play, she had 
 brought it out, she was bound to exert herself to the utmost 
 for its support. 
 
 Either the vexation of failure, or some other unknown cause, 
 acted on her nerves to such an extent that after the fall of the
 
 MEJIOIRS OF RACHEL. 303 
 
 curtain she was seized with a fit of liysterics that was so vio- 
 lent and lasted so long that it was feared her reason was in 
 danger ; she tore her veil, dashed from her the crown, and 
 threw down, with looks of frantic horror, her poniard. 
 
 An explanation of this singidar scene was sought in the 
 supposition that it was the remembrance of the death of 
 her sister Eebecca that had awakened a paroxysm of deliri- 
 ous grief. But it is difficult to find any analogy between 
 this recent family bereavement and the tragedy of " Hose- 
 nionde." 
 
 The result of this last miscalculation was that Mademoi- 
 selle Rachel, vexed and ashamed, retired under the usual pre- 
 tense of ill health. 
 
 jNIademoiselle Rachel had introduced the celebration of the 
 anniversary of Corneille ; it occurred at last to the manage- 
 ment that there was another great man to whom they were 
 equally indebted, and the anniversary of whose birtli was 
 equally entitled to dramatic honors. On the 21st of Decem- 
 ber the Theatre Frangais inaugurated the celebration of Ra- 
 cine's birth-day, the tragedienne condescending for that day to 
 forget she was ill, and act " Phcdre." 
 
 Since the unfortunate exit of " Rosemonde," this was the 
 first time Mademoiselle Rachel had appeared on the stage. 
 She retired into her tent, and did not come forth again until 
 the latter part of January of the following year. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 1855. 
 
 "La Czarine." — Melpomene in Hysterics. — A formidable Rival. — Ade- 
 laide Ristori, the Siddons of Italy. — "Francesca da Rimini." — "La 
 Pia de Tolomei."— "Maria Stuarda." 
 
 During her temporary absence from the stnge Mademoi- 
 selle Rachel was studying a new 7'ule, in a drama in five acts, 
 by M. Scribe, "La Czarine," which was brought out in Janu- 
 ary of this year. As the student of history will not think of 
 consulting M. Scribe's plays as works of reference, it is un- 
 necessary to quarrel with that author's peculiar mode of
 
 304 MEMOIRS OF RACIIEI.. 
 
 treating historical events and personages ; in truth, he has ^ 
 merely borrowed high-sounding names; the incidents and 9 
 characters are entirely of his own invention. 
 
 Among the subjects that apparently pleased him best was 
 the celebrated Catharine, wife of Peter the Great. Finding 
 her very successful in the " Etoile du Nord," he tried her 
 without the partition and at a more advanced period of her 
 existence, substituting Mademoiselle Eachel for the musical 
 charms of which he now divested her. The hero is no longer 
 Peter the shipwright, enamored of the fair young gipsy, and 
 committing no worse crime than that of an extra glass to 
 drown the sorrow her absence occasions. At the present 
 stage of his existence Peter is advanced in his imperial career; 
 he has learned his various trades, and is now giving his sub- 
 jects the benefit of his experience. He has already founded 
 St. Petersburg, conquered Sweden, fought with Turkey, butch- 
 ered his son Alexis, drowned in torrents of blood the con- 
 spiracy of the Strelitz, and carried to some extent liis system 
 of civilization, effected according to the principles of bar- 
 barism. Czar Peter is more at leisure now, and turns his 
 mind entirely to his own little domestic affairs, which he 
 regulates according to his usual expeditious system. To keep 
 his hand in, this imperial executioner amuses himself with 
 putting to death the admirers of his beloved Czarine. In ^ 
 fact, there is much more of the Ogre of fairy tales, and much 
 less of the Czar in this Peter than there was even in the his- 
 torical one, and he is much better suited for the tyrant of the 
 melo-dramas in favor on the Boulevards than for the hero of 
 a play at the Theatre Frangais, whose more refined and crit- 
 ical audience tolerated with difficulty this brutal provost- 
 marshal. 
 
 The Czarine has not one great quality, one marked charac- 
 teristic, one attractive point to raise her above the common 
 level ; the author could not have written a more insignificant, 
 pointless, colorless role for Mademoiselle Rachel. There is 
 not from beginning to end a fine passage, an energetic speech. 
 
 The other characters are a set of Russians such as were 
 presented as specimens of the nation at the Theatre du Cirque 
 during the Crimean war. There is an Admiral Vilderbeck, a
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 305 
 
 sort of Dutch-Russian, always tipsy, always ridiculous, who is 
 the unconscious marplot in the play ; Jakimhj, an automaton 
 spy of the Czar's : he acts, but leaves the talking to otliers ; 
 MenscMlcoff, the unfortunate Menscldkoff so ill-treated by La 
 Harpe, expiates, by the gratuitous charge of poisoning Peter 
 the Great, now brought against him by JM. Scribe, the hatred 
 which the people of France bore the Menschikoff of 1855 ; 
 Olga, his daughter, a simple, candid little girl, who can, when 
 required, show a very heroic spirit, but whose combustible 
 heart catches fire like a little keg of powder at the approach 
 of the spark Sapieha ; Sapieha, a young Pole, cut on the pat- 
 tern of the Lauzuns, a courtier fresh from the Versailles of 
 the a-'il de Boeuf 
 
 "With these stereotyped personages, reproduced again and 
 again in their proper sphere at the Porte St. Martin, any dram- 
 atist of M. Scribe's school was sure to proceed on exactly 
 the same plan as the master, and to produce a play in the 
 same monotonous, lukewarm, and superficial style as the ma- 
 jority of those this fertile and skillful playwright has made 
 the public applaud so repeatedly. 
 
 Count Sapieha, just arrived from the court of France, is the 
 lion of the semi-barbaric court which Czar Peter is civilizing 
 with his cane and pruning with the axe; the ladies of the 
 court invite him to more rendezvous than he has time or in- 
 clination to attend to, for he aspires to no less than an impe- 
 rial heart, and disdains the conquest of any lower station. 
 Peter, who is as jealous as a tiger, has lately chopped off the 
 head of Ma^iis de la Croix, the last admirer of his wife, and is 
 looking out very sharply to catch the next. The fate of hi ; 
 predecessor only makes the new pretender more boastful and 
 daring ; he openly avows his hopes to Yilderbeck, a very faith- 
 ful friend, but too much given to indiscretions when in his 
 cups. Catharine knows of this love, and encourages it as an 
 aoreeable diversion to the ennui and repulsion the brutality of 
 her spouse inspires. She is not a bit more discreet than her 
 lover, and unhesitatingly develops her ideas on the subject to 
 Menschikoff, who had himself been the happy possessor of her 
 heart in former days, but, like a good courtier, had yielded it 
 up to his master. 3Ie7ischikoff does not object to the Czarine's
 
 306 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 new fancy on moral grounds, but only as entailing dangei'ous 
 results. Peter, who is absent, has set him to watch Catharine, 
 but, having no great confidence in his minister, has appointed 
 Jakinsl'i/, another spy, to look after the first. Mensc hi koff re- 
 pays the Czarine's frankness by the information that, having 
 been, on some slight occasion, caned by his imperial master 
 before all the court, he, the favorite, intends to take an early 
 opportunity of paying back the little favor. 
 
 In the mean while the Czarine promotes Count Sajoieha to 
 the post of chamberlain, and Olga — who, following the fashion, 
 has fallen in love with the dashing, Frenchified Pole, is uncon- 
 sciously her rival — to that of maid of honor, and admits her, 
 by a special favor, to lodge in a pavilion occupied by herself. 
 So far matters have gone on smoothly enough, but here the 
 embroglio begins. Vilderbecl; going home late in rather a con- 
 fused state of mind, wanders into the gardens of the palace, 
 finds a door open, enters a pavilion, and catches a glimpse of 
 a lady in white, who screams and puts out the light. At this 
 moment a powerful grasp is laid on his shoulders, and he is 
 tumbled down stairs and out of doors very unceremoniously. 
 The next morning he finds himself at his own door, half frozen, 
 and quite unconscious how he got there. In the scuffle a 
 chamberlain's key has been dropped ; this key, picked up by 
 Jahinshij, like Bluebeard's, gets every one into a scrape; it is 
 shown to the Czar, whose suspicions it arouses. Vilderbeck, 
 being questioned, relates his nocturnal adventure : it was too 
 dark to recognize his assailant or the lady, and he was too 
 tipsy to remember the locality of the scene. However, the 
 key is proved to be the count's, and he is summoned before 
 the imperial inquisitor. What was he doing there? He was 
 there for — Olga! Very well, he must immediately repair 
 damages by marrying Olga, who, on her side, knowing noth- 
 ing of the adventure, joyfully consents to obey orders and 
 take the husband provided for her. 
 
 The play might have been brought to a close here, the fas- 
 cinating count turning out to have been in love with pretty 
 Miss Olga all the time, and to have really made with her the 
 rendezvous that has so greatly troubled the Czar and occa- 
 sioned his .spouse to be accused falsely. This natural conclu-
 
 I 
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 307 
 
 sion here would have added the " Czarine" to the long list of 
 comedies furnished by M. Scribe, per contract, to the Gym- 
 nase. It may be that this was originally the case, and that 
 it had remained in this state in M. Scribe's drawer until the 
 time of the Crimean expedition, when the sequel was tacked 
 on. The drama is all in the last three acts, in which are also 
 all the allusions to Constantinople and to the Turks, the hated 
 foes of Peter the Great ; the Turkish embassador at the court 
 of Russia is the man who once, thanks to Catharine's interpo- 
 sition, permitted the Czar to escape when he might have driven 
 him into the Priith. One might suppose these incidents would 
 influence the action of the drama; they have, however, rioth- 
 ino- to do with it. While Menschikoff i\n^ his master are hav- 
 in**- a little familiar discussion on political matters, a common- 
 place remark of Pdcr to Ohja, who is present, with regard to 
 her husband, draws forth an answer which arouses all his 
 lately-appeased suspicions. Sapieha has not spent his wed- 
 ding-night with his bride! The Czarine and the count ex- 
 change, when they think themselves alone, a few words, which, 
 overheard by Ohja, reveal that she has been only used as a 
 cloak to shield her mistress. Feeling this the more deeply 
 that she herself loves her husband, the poor little wife has 
 still the magnanimity to endeavor to persuade the Czar that 
 she is really loved by the count. Her generosity is of no 
 avail. Peter is conscious that he is betrayed ; he is determined 
 on revenge. He exiles Olga to Siberia, and orders the execu- 
 tion of Sapieha. The Czarine uses her influence to save her 
 favorite. She prevails on her former lover, the Turkish em- 
 bassador, to convey her present one out of the kingdom in his 
 OAvn carriage. But on the road Sapieha learns the fate of Olga. 
 Her noble devotion, her love for him, her beauty, and espe- 
 cially her youth, have changed the current of his love ; he is 
 no longer fascinated by the more mature charms of Catharine; 
 he now adores his wife, and to share her lot, wherever it may 
 be cast, he escapes from the embassador's carriage, rushes back 
 to St. Petersburg, is taken, and brought out on a scaflfbld under 
 the windows of the palace to be decapitated. Tlie Czar, by a 
 refinement of cruelty, compels the Czarine to view the scene, 
 that he may catch on her countenance the signs of grief that
 
 308 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 
 
 will be ia his eyes the proof of her guilt. But the Czarine 
 views the dismal preparations calmly, for she is resolved that 
 she will end her own life when the count dies. Her coolness 
 convinces the Czar of her innocence, and he countermands the 
 execution, telling Catharine he now believes there was no love 
 on her side for Sapieha; he adds that he is equally convinced 
 Sapieha has none for her, having just intercepted the count's 
 last adieu to his young wife, a letter full of expressions of pas- 
 sionate tenderness, in which he assures her she alone is mistress 
 of his heart, &c., &c. Catharine, who could look on calmly 
 when her lover was to lose his head, when she finds she has 
 lost' his heart is overwhelmed with rage. Careless of conse- 
 quences, she vents her jealousy openly, and the incensed Czar 
 reorders the execution. But, ere the sentence can pass his 
 lips, his words are cut short by his own death. Menschikoff, 
 in order to save his daughter, Olga, has hastened the execution 
 of his plans ; the Czai- is poisoned by him. This sudden death 
 puts other thoughts in Catharine's mind. She sends the count 
 as embassador to Warsaw, with his bride ; as for her, she will 
 live only to reign. 
 
 On the follovsang day there was a great dinner given in 
 honor of the tragedienne by Doctor Ve'ron, and St. Beuve, 
 Merrimee, Aubert, Halevy, M. Aloequart, and Scribe, were 
 among the guests. The invitations had been issued, in all 
 probability, when it was expected that the play and the actress 
 would meet with the most brilliant success. The play had been 
 evidently a failure : the actress had, as Avas usual with her on 
 first nights, been far below her own standard. These disap- 
 pointments had thrown a cloud over the doctor's entertain- 
 ment which Rachel, feeling that it was partly owing to her, 
 would willingly have dispelled. To get up a fictitious excite- 
 ment, she, who was excessively abstemious, drank two glasses 
 of Champagne. It produced no eflfect beyond a headache. 
 As soon as the dinner was over she withdrew into another 
 room and gave way to a fit of tears, after which she slipped 
 away home. 
 
 M. Scribe, who was extremely uneasy, remarked to Merri- 
 mee that he would not wonder if she never played the part 
 again.
 
 MEMOIRS OV RACHEL. 309 
 
 The *' Czarine" was, however, played for a few nights, and 
 then dropped forever. 
 
 Tins wretched production was the last of Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel's creations. Nothing remained of it but two portraits of 
 her in the costume of the Czarine, a blue dress embroidered 
 with gold, and a mantle of ermine, fine paintings by M. Geof- 
 froy. 
 
 Mademoiselle Eachel had pursued her course for eighteen 
 years without meeting a single competitor who could cause 
 her any serious alarm, but now there arose a new star on the 
 dramatic horizon, which threatened, if not to eclipse, at least 
 to rival her. On the 24th of JMay Madame Ristori appeared 
 at the Italian Opera House in the part of Fi^ancesca da Rimini. 
 Never, perhaps, had a French actress been so universally ad- 
 mired in Paris as was this foreigner acting in a foreign idiom. 
 Never certainly had she, even in her own land, where she was 
 of course better understood, been the object of such extrava- 
 gant encomiums. The critics pronounced her perfection, the 
 public countersigned their decision. The success of the Ital- 
 ian Siddons was certainly without precedent if we consider 
 that not over one fourth part of her audience understood what 
 was spoken otherwise than as it was interpreted by the mar- 
 velous eloquence of the countenance, attitude, and gestures of 
 the speaker. Her great eifects were entirely due to the charm 
 of the features, the magic of the exquisite voice. 
 
 When we say that the success of Madame Ristori was 
 greater in France than it has ever been in Italy, we do not 
 mean it to be infei-red that there she Avas not duly appreciated. 
 Though instances of the possessors of genius and talent meet- 
 ing only with indifference from their fellow-citizens are nu- 
 merous, and though the voice of the prophet seldom finds an 
 echo at home, the applause of an Italian public has constantly 
 followed the career of her whose admirable enunciation added 
 new beauties to their harmonious language. 
 
 But it could not be expected that in towns where the the- 
 atre-going public remains always unchanged, enthusiasm can 
 be kept up constantly by three or four dramatic works, brought 
 before it by the same actress, however excellent she may be in 
 her art, as in large capitals where the floating population is 
 so numerous.
 
 310 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 
 
 Thus, though long years had established the reputation of 
 Madame Ristori in her native land, it was eclipsed by the 
 more brilliant one a few weeks procured her in France. The 
 perfect classic outline of this great talent had been hitherto 
 fully admitted, but it remained for a Parisian audience — an 
 audience of consummate critics, too long accustomed to excel- 
 lence to tolerate mediocrity — to discern its mystic and ethereal 
 characteristics. Plence the triumph of the great artiste was in 
 France as complete as it was rapidly achieved. 
 
 The difference is easily accounted for. 
 
 To Italy belong bold and vivid feelings — enthusiasm that 
 carries all before it — the passionate admiration of perfection 
 of form, brilliancy of coloring, of the music which in that priv- 
 ileged land seems the echo of the hymn of joy with which the 
 creation greets its Creator. 
 
 To France belongs the severe analyzation of the beauties of 
 Nature, the more intimate realization of the dreaming, delicate 
 touches of Art, a more studied appreciation of the undefined 
 and shadowy subtleties of thought. 
 
 In Madame Ristori her countrymen admired the deep pas- 
 sions and energy that gave such startling reality to each part 
 she represented. 
 
 In France these were equally admired, while the profound 
 knowledge of human nature disj^layed in every glance, every 
 gesture, every intonation of her flexible and musical voice, 
 were better appreciated ; and the soft, vague melancholy, 
 which at times veils and spiritualizes the look of this actress, 
 recalling visions of Ossian's daughters of the mist or of the 
 gentle Undine of our German neighbors, was far better un- 
 derstood by the French than by the Italians. 
 
 The great originality of Madame Ristori's style consists 
 chiefly in the union, so rarely met with, of dreamy reverie 
 and ardent passion. This characteristic, so specially her own, 
 is poi-trayed on her countenance ; the aspiration toward the 
 ideal is in every feature ; the purity of the brow, the oval 
 contour of the face, the somewhat severe lines of the Roman 
 nose, the nameless grace of those of the mouth, indicate the 
 noblest feelings, a heartfelt sense of the beautiful, and the love 
 of whatsoever is virtuous and good. .
 
 MEMOLRS OF RACHEL. 311 
 
 Another cause for her success, which was wholly independ- 
 ent of the profession, was the high opinion held of her char- 
 acter as a wife and a mother. The spectator was, uncon- 
 sciously perhaps, under the influence of this superiority. Ere 
 she opened her lips the natural dignity of her manner predis- 
 posed in her favor, rendering eveiy heart sympathetic ; when 
 she spoke the hearers were under the charm of a voice of un- 
 paralleled sweetness, revealing candor and goodness unbounded 
 — a voice that came fraught with every noble and generous 
 feeling directly from the heart that is their spring. The feat- 
 ures and gestures may be schooled by strength of -will and of 
 intellect to represent a great tragic part, even by a mind of 
 perverted principles. Consummate talent and long stage-ex- 
 perience may give the power of expressing every bitter, strange, 
 and terrible effect of headlong, uncurbed passion with an en- 
 ergy and force that strike terror into every heart ; but if that 
 of the actress has no tender fibres, her voice none of the mov- 
 ing chords, the melting accents that indicate a pure and gen- 
 erous nature, she will awaken no sympathy in the spectators: 
 they may admire, they can not love her. 
 
 The most charming of Madame Ristori's characters was un- 
 doubtedly that oi Francesca da Rimini, and, among other per- 
 formers famed for their talent, she alone could give us the 
 image of the veiled tenderness, the struggle between duty and 
 passion, the truth and purity of Dante's beautiful creation — 
 she alone could embody the spirit of the fair Francesca. On 
 what stage could Ave find another profile so full of majestic 
 grace, the chaste confusion of those ej-es overarched by so 
 noble a brow, and that radiant smile called up by the eva- 
 nescent joys of love ; and, above all, where else could we find 
 that voice, anon vibrating soft and girlishly gentle, then again 
 quivering with the agony of grief — that voice we all recognize 
 as that o^ Paolo's love? Its sound roaches the inmost soul 
 of the listener, conveying far more meaning than the poetry 
 it utters. Another actress might, perhaps, reproduce this type 
 0? Francesca with as much talent as Madame Eistori, but with 
 that talent the charm that emanates from the purity of the 
 woman, and which blends with and raises the genius of the 
 artiste to so sublime a height, is a combination rarely — we
 
 312 IHEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 dare not say never — met with. Our souvenirs of Madame 
 Ristori would lead us to look on any other Francesca as less 
 chaste, less idealized. 
 
 These remarks will apply to Madame Ristori's style of act- 
 ing in all her characters, but more especially to the part we 
 have just mentioned, and to that of " La Pia de Tolomei." 
 The play of " Silvio Pellico" is more properly an elegy in 
 three acts than a tragedy. A succession of exquisite shades 
 of feeling alone redeems his work from an otherwise insup- 
 portable monotony : it is rather a charming poem, of which 
 the actress is the soul, than a pld,y. M. Carlos Marenco, 
 when he wrote his drama of "La Pia," drew his inspiration 
 from Pellico's tragedy ; the latter is superior with regard to 
 style, but in both interest and vigor are lacking ; the plot is 
 weak, the characters are tame. The patriotic sentiment that 
 animates the fine passages of Francesca, which every Italian 
 knows by heart, makes the play tolerated on the stage, and 
 an actress like Madame Ristori renders the '' Pia" endurable. 
 If, then, she causes such a sensation in plays that are dramat- 
 ically below mediocrity, we may have some idea of what she 
 could accomplish had she been the interpreter of a Corneille, 
 a Racine, or a Shakspeare. 
 
 The part of Maria Stuarda has more variety, more striking 
 dramatic situations ; hence it excites more enthusiasm than 
 those we have mentioned. The woman in her greatness and 
 her weakness is here more apparent, particularly in the mag- 
 nificent scene where, having struggled with admirably-expressed 
 efforts against her rising wrath, the sarcasms o( Elizabeth final- 
 ly render it irrepressible, and it breaks out in a torrent of an- 
 nihilating disdain and crushing contempt that overwhelms her 
 rival ; the rapturous, almost childish joy with which she then 
 congratulates herself on having purchased without hesitancy, 
 -and at the price of almost certain death, the bitter pleasure 
 of revenge, is one of the most superb pieces of acting ever wit- 
 nessed on any stage. 
 
 To analyze the various inspirations that actuate the actress 
 in this character, we should have to quote the whole of it. 
 The sudden gesture when 3faria speaks of the hidden dangers 
 that surround her; the passionate joy of the prisoner who
 
 I 
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 313 
 
 once more sees the face of heaven, the trees, the birds, all 
 nature ; the scene where, preparing for death, she bids a last 
 adieu to her handmaidens with such melting yet subdued af- 
 fection, so queenly still in her condescension, yet so gentle, so 
 womanly in all her love and care for these, her faithful ones ; 
 and, at the close, the heart-rending, ecstatic pause during which 
 the bitterness of death contends with and is finally absorbed 
 in the heavenly hope that transports her beyond the terrible 
 present, is a sublime inspiration springing from a deep relig- 
 ious feeling, from a soul tilled with love of the beautiful ideal. 
 
 In " Medea," so difficult a part to bring before a modern 
 public, the actress had to conquer the same obstacles as in 
 that of "Myrrha." While she made her audience shudder, 
 she had the power of ennobling characters and passions the 
 most appalling, of exciting sympathy for heroines scarcely to 
 be tolerated on the stage, without, however, losing any of the 
 terrific energy which is one of her chief characteristics. 
 
 In the French classic drama Madame Ristori would be 
 equally successful; her interpretations of the feelings of a 
 Hermione, a Camille, an Emilie would, we think, differ widely 
 from that which has hitherto been given. The bitter sar- 
 casm, the despairing anathemas, all the wild array of passions 
 that disfigure poor human nature in these splendid types, and 
 which, from the day of their creation, have been portrayed 
 with the furious rant of a maniac, would by her be brought 
 into bold relief with new and stinking effect. The mission of 
 the tragic poet is to excite, in the highest degree, emotions 
 of terror and pity, and never can this aim be so successfully 
 accomplished as when the actress unites the noblest gifts of 
 the heart to a splendid and cultivated intelligence. 
 
 It is said, with what truth we know not, though we feel no 
 inclination to doubt it, that Madame Kistori is in the habit 
 of seeking in mental prayer, before going on the stage, the 
 strength and nerve she exhibits in her different characters, 
 and that she places implicit reliance on the religious inspira- 
 tion thus sought. This is a view of the vocation of dramatic 
 artists never before taken, and one which, should the example 
 find imitators, might lead to great results. It would certain- 
 ly tend to dignify and elevate in an extraordinary degree the 
 
 O
 
 314 MEMOIES OF RACHEL. 
 
 drama and its interpreters, and silence all the objections hith- 
 erto brought against them. 
 
 Those who have seen this charming actress in private life 
 extol her modesty and simplicity. Her style on the stage 
 partakes of her character — it is simple and unpretending in 
 its very grandeur. She is true in the artistic sense of the 
 word, for she takes from nature the most energetic expression 
 of its passions, and always subordinates it to the laws of 
 beauty with the exquisite tact that is innate in her. Wei'e 
 she to become more classical she might lose somewhat of her 
 grace, while, on the other hand, a more familiar, a more nat- 
 ural style would impair her dignity. No clap-trap, no eccen- 
 tricity is mingled with her acting. She has invented no sys- 
 tem of her own, conseqviently can have no imitators. Con- 
 tent with studying the human heai't, she gives the rein to 
 her own instinctive sense of what should be. This is the 
 whole secret of the success of those poets and painters who 
 have reached the highest summit of art. To those who would 
 approach the superiority to which Madame Adelaide Ristori 
 has risen, we would say, " Search your heart ; if it be pure, 
 honest, truly pious, you may succeed, for those qualities are 
 more necessary to an artist who would be loved and admired 
 than is generally supposed." 
 
 In reviewing the different phases of Mademoiselle Eachel's 
 career, we have had occasion to appreciate the merit of 
 the various critics who have made her the subject of their 
 feuilletons. We do not lay claim to having given a complete 
 list of them, but among the masters of the pruning-knife 
 whose judicious and eloquent articles so greatly contributed 
 to her exaltation, there is one we would feel it a reproach to 
 have omitted, had we not reserved his name for a special 
 mention when that of his gifted countrywoman should find its 
 place in these pages. Of all the dramatic critics of the Paris- 
 ian journals, M. Fiorentino, who is alike master of French and 
 Italian, is the most capable of correctly judging the talent of 
 the two tragediennes and of establishing a parallel between 
 them. 
 
 There are, doubtless, in dramatic ai't, beauties that may be 
 recognized and appreciated by spectators who understand the
 
 ME3I0IRS OF EACHEL. 315 
 
 language but imperfectly. But, to examine the subject in all 
 its bearings, and pronounce on its merits on all points, the 
 conscientious critic must be perfectly familiar with the lan- 
 guage ; he must need no preliminary study to feel all its 
 charm and power, to be a nice judge of elegance and purity 
 of pronunciation, of correctness and truthfulness of intona- 
 tion. He who does not possess this gift can only speak of the 
 mimic talent of the actor. On all other points his opinion is 
 subject to discussion, for his errors may be infinite. 
 
 An amusing instance of this occurred at the time Wallack 
 and his company alternated with the Italian company at the 
 Italian Opera House. A German family just arrived in Paris, 
 and anxious to see the far-famed Madame Ristori, sent their 
 valet (le jilace to procure a box at the theatre where she per- 
 formed. On the follo^^^ng night they were all installed at an 
 early hour, and wondering at the little enthusiasm the half- 
 empty house manifested. However, they listened attentively, 
 neither understanding a word nor yet clearly making out the 
 pantomime, but getting up, notwithstanding, a very lively ad- 
 
 mii-ation for the young and pretty Miss , whom they took 
 
 for Madame Ristori. The next day they were congratulating 
 themselves before some friends on their good fortune of the 
 previous evening in seeing the charming Italian tragedienne in 
 "Maria Stuarda," when, to their amazement, they were in- 
 formed they had seen Miss ■ in Desdemona. 
 
 Moi'e than one French critic might have found himself 
 making a similar mistake. Not so M. Fiorentino, who, a 
 Neapolitan by birth, is in wit and talent a Frenchman. This 
 "OTiter is one of the few foreigners who have acquired the 
 French language in such perfection that to them it is as their 
 own, and who have borrowed even the character of the nation 
 that has adopted them. Since the days of the learned Abbe 
 Galignani and Baron de Grimm, we know of none who, not 
 a Frenchman born, has been so thoroughly French in his lan- 
 guage. 
 
 M. Fiorentino did not attain his present high position in 
 the ranks of the French press without some trouble. He has 
 had to struggle against jealousies, to conquer antipathies, to con- 
 found calumnies, but he has at last succeeded in taking his
 
 316 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 place. He openly edits the dramatic feuillelon of the "Con- 
 stitutionnel," and, under the name of "De Eouviere," the 
 musical feuilleton of the "Moniteur." Monsieur Fiorentino 
 is especially noted for the correctness of his taste, for a style 
 full of vivacity, piquancy, rich coloring, clearness, and ele- 
 gance ; the romantic neologism Avhich might be excusable in 
 an Italian, never throws a blemish over his productions. 
 
 No one has written a more faithful and more highly-finish- 
 ed portrait of JNIadame Eistori, yet he has not been in any 
 degree influenced by his nationality, and has done as complete 
 justice to the cosmopolitan Racheh 
 
 If we have entered on a somewhat minute description of 
 the rival that sprung up so unexpectedly before the eyes of 
 the autocrat of the Theatre Franc^ais, the effect her advent 
 had on the capricious Rachel must excuse the apparent di- 
 gression. From the voluntary retreat no prayers, no entreat- 
 ies, no sense of equity could induce the imperious socictaire to 
 leave, the reception shown to Madame Kistori suddenly drew 
 her. The echo of the applause so enthusiastically bestowed 
 on the Italian Muse grated harshly on the ears of the French 
 Melpomene ; every word of praise addressed to another was a 
 theft to her disadvantage. She was amazed that the public, 
 in lieu of mourning her departure, thought her less worthily 
 compensated ; she was vexed to tlie soul when she found her 
 caprices, her sulks, her imperious will totally unheeded, her 
 smile or her fiown no longer regulating the temperature with- 
 in the walls of the temple. For the first time she trembled, 
 for there was real danger : this was no competitor she could 
 scorn or frown down. Right willing was she to descend from 
 her throne and seek in distant lands the substantial gifts of 
 Pluto, but she did not choose the vacant seat should be filled 
 in the mean while. AVith swelling heart and lowering brow 
 she went to see this fiiir-haired stranger who had crossed the 
 Alps, bringing two ci'owns already from her own land, that 
 of comedy and that of tragedy — a union of honors Rachel her- 
 self had failed to achieve. 
 
 It was on the 5th of June that Rachel, who had been vainly 
 solicited to lend on the next evening her co-operation to the an- 
 nual celebration of Corncille's birth-day, had gone to theThea-
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 317 
 
 tre Itallcn to see " Myrrha." At the moment that the daughter 
 of PasiphcB was receiving an ovation such as, perhaps, Camille 
 herself had never been the object of, the latter came suddenly 
 to the conclusion that she Avould grant what she had so ob- 
 stinately refused; she then and there, in her box, at nine 
 o'clock in the evening, dispatched a note to M. Arsene IIous- 
 saje, desiring her name should be put on the bills in the morn- 
 ing for the performance of Camille. 
 
 During the tragedy she had steadfastly gazed at Myrrha 
 with mute, concentrated attention, but without giving the 
 sliglitest token of approval. As an excuse for this discour- 
 teous conduct, a critic suggested that she was probably ap- 
 plauding internally. As a proof that her emotion was none 
 the less powerful for being undemonstrative, he added that it 
 had rendered her so ill that she was compelled to leave before 
 the end of the play ! Madame Kistori complaining to M. 
 Lcgouve of the incivility of her sister artiste in leaving in the 
 middle of the play, "Madame," replied the poet, '-the jeal- 
 ousy of Rachel Avas the only thing wanting to confirm your 
 fame." 
 
 On the following evening, a box having been politely placed 
 by the manager of the Theatre Fran^-ais at the disposal of 
 Madame Ristori, it was her turn to examine with studious at- 
 tention the French tragedienne. Her approbation, however, 
 was not silent ; it was openly and exceedingly enthusiastic, 
 bestowed with all the lUxYinn foitgue. She took her glass from 
 her eye only to applaud, and ceased to applaud only to take 
 it up again and resume her admiring gaze. 
 
 The next evening Myi-rha was again performed, and again 
 did Rachel witness the performance, but this time slie thought 
 fit to send a complimentary message to Madame Ristori. 
 
 But, whatever her real feelings, it was soon evident that 
 Rachel, piqued to the utmost by the faithlessness of the public, 
 was determined to endeavor to arouse its former devotion, 
 and turn the tide of allegiance that had dared to deviate from 
 its proper course. She performed during the month of June 
 the chief plays of her repertoire in quick succession, and with 
 all the animation and talent she possessed. 
 
 But, though applause was liberally bestowed on her eflTorts,
 
 318 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 she felt she no longer reigned alone. Each day the press 
 teemed with the praises of Madame Ristori, and not on her 
 talent only were these lavish encomiums bestowed ; her beauty, 
 her charming, unaffected simplicity of manner, her tact, her 
 domestic virtues, all were continually the themes of admira- 
 tion. This was wormwood to her who never could brook the 
 semblance of a rival near her throne ; but she had committed 
 faults that were irretrievable, and now paid the penalty. She 
 had offended the public, and now the public had found a new 
 toy, and used it as an instrument to break the old one with. 
 The vexation this caused her put an end to her hesitation 
 with regard to the projected voyage to America ; her indecis- 
 ion vanished at once, and she left Paris on Friday, the 27th 
 of July, for London, determined, after fulfilling a short engage- 
 ment there, to proceed to the States. 
 
 Hitherto she had constantly found some new excuse to de- 
 lay signing her engagement with her brother Eaphael, the pro- 
 jector and manager of this new expedition. A presentiment 
 of evil seemed to have warned her against this last venture, 
 and more than once she startled the expectant tribe of kin- 
 dred by declaring she would not go. But the insolence of the 
 Parisian public in daring to set u]) a new altar, in presuming 
 to invent a new Muse, deserved condign punishment, and noth- 
 ing less than this prolonged absence was judged sufficiently 
 severe. 
 
 On the 30th of July the tragedienne appeared in " Les Hor- 
 aces" at St. James's Theatre. The performance was honored 
 with the presence of the Duke and Duchess of Aumale and 
 the Duke and Duchess of Nemours, who applauded very warm- 
 ly. The illustrious exiles were among the last of their coun- 
 trymen who saw her on a European stage. The Duke of 
 Aumale remarked to Mr. Mitchell, who saw him to his car- 
 riage, that " the beautiful language of Corneille, the language 
 of his native land, had been to him like a refreshing dew after 
 a burning summci"'s day." 
 
 On the 1st of August "Phedre" was given; on the 3d, 
 " Adrienne Lecouvreur ;" on the 4th, " Andromaque ;" on the 
 6th, "Lady Tai-tuffe ;" on the 8th, "Adrienne Lecouvreur." 
 After this series of performances Mademoiselle Rachel con-
 
 M1-3I0IES OF RACHEL. 319 
 
 sented to speak the dream in '•' Atbalie" at an entertainment 
 given on the 9th, at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, for the 
 benefit of the French Benevolent Society. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 1855. 
 
 Departure for America. — Passion for Cards and Affection for her Broth- 
 er. — An ill-advised Expedition. — Voyage aci-oss the Atlantic. — Un- 
 pleasant Prediction. — A sad Aagiiri-. — Our past Errors pursue us 
 through Life. — A Stimulant to Learning. — Spontaneous Generosity. 
 — ''La ^larseillaise" in the Kew World. — A slight Cold. — Boston. 
 — Philadelphia. 
 
 In London the resolution of the tragedienne had well-nigh 
 failed her completely. Her reception by the English audience, 
 with whom she was always a great favorite, had this time 
 been exceedingly brilliant. She knew how generous and how 
 capable of appreciating her was the public she was forsaking ; 
 she had strong doubts of the one she was going to see. The 
 millions that had appeai-ed so sure in the distance, as the time 
 for gathering them approached, seemed very problematical, and 
 now most unwilling was she to undertake the distant expedi- 
 tion. 
 
 We have now reached one of the most important events in 
 the career of Mademoiselle Rachel ; its dire results hung like 
 a funeral pall over the remainder of her life, which it short- 
 ened and finally ended. 
 
 This ill-planned expedition, the subject of the most absurd 
 and exaggerated reports, was altogether a financial speculation, 
 in which art was even more than usually a secondary consid- 
 eration. Rachel herself was but an instrument to advance 
 the interests of others. Her whole family had conspired to 
 bring about this grand finale, which was intended to make 
 every member of it rich : the merit of its conception was due 
 to the fertile imagination of Raphael. Inexperienced, hair- 
 brained, full of chimerical illusions, the young Israelite ima"^- 
 ined that the pockets of the citizens of the United States, 
 mine? richer and more inexhaustible than those of Peru, sole-
 
 320 IHEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 ly awaited the advent of his sister to yield up their ready- 
 coined treasures. Even old Felix, who had hitherto mani- 
 fested the most consummate skill and prudence in the man- 
 agement of his daughter's interests, was inoculated with this 
 insane spirit of adventure, excusable in a man of thirty, but 
 strange indeed in one of his age and experience. The conta- 
 gious vertigo resembled the fatal one of old which was the 
 precursor of the ruin of the nation. In the present case it 
 was the hitherto fortunate Eachel who was doomed to pay 
 the penalty of the family error. 
 
 From the day the fascinating vision of the American 2>lacer 
 took possession of their bewitched imagination, there was no 
 peace for Eachel, Continually pointing to the golden mirage 
 the demon of covetousness spread before them, they assailed 
 her with constant solicitations. Raphael, Sarah, Dinah, Leah, 
 incessantly dinned into her ears the 1,700,000 fi'ancs realized 
 by Jenny Lind in thirty-eight nights. An estimate was made 
 of the expenses and profits of the expedition : the latter were 
 not to amount to loss than 2,554,600 francs. Of this sum 
 Eachel was to receive 1,200,000 francs free of all expenses; 
 her three sisters, 170,000 francs each. As to Eaphael, he was 
 to have all he could make after paying expenses. 
 
 The least reflection, the least experience of men and things 
 would have shown the weak points of this plan of campaign, 
 and dispelled all illusions. But these children of Israel were 
 so completely canned away, American dollars shone so bright- 
 ly before their dazzled eyes, they could not perceive how little 
 connection existed between the easy gains made in a foreign 
 land by a singer or a dancer and those made by a tragic actress. 
 
 Music, pantomime, and dancing are universally understood 
 and appreciated ; they are at home wherever they go. A fine 
 singer, a graceful dancer, exert the same fascination on the 
 audience, whatever may be their nation. To understand them, 
 no interpretation, no preliminary studies are required ; their 
 aim is the gratification of the eye and ear only. 
 
 It is far otherwise with the tragic actress, who, even in the 
 country wliose language she speaks, can only expect constant 
 patronage from a certain class, the elite of society, for taste 
 and education are needed to appreciate her art : she offers no
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 321 
 
 entertainment that can please tlie masses long ; with the 
 crowd curiosity is the chief inducement, and that satisfied, the 
 novelty once gone, the niajority seek elsewhere amusements 
 better adapted to their intelligence and associations. 
 
 Had Raphael read with discernment tiie newspaper articles 
 which within the last ten years had most powerfully contrib- 
 uted to exalt and glorify his sister, he would have seen the 
 organs of the press constantly complaining of the indifference 
 shown by the French public for the master-pieces of their own 
 language. Plad he known any thing of the history of great 
 dramatic artists, he would have remembered that Talma, the 
 great Talma himself, never, even when in the apogee of his 
 fame, attained to the sum of the receipts of the houses brought 
 by Madame Catalani and IMadame Malibran. He would have 
 learned that the art of the tragedian is a liberal art, and not 
 a money-making one, exercising its influence on the elite and 
 not on the crowd. He may possibly have been led to form his 
 conclusions by the enthusiasm always manifested for his sister 
 in England. He did not consider that she found there a nu- 
 merous and highly-educated aristocracy ; that the gentry — in 
 fact, all the upper classes — are well acquainted with the French 
 language, and familiar with its great authors ; that the dis- 
 tance between the two countries permitted of a constant inter- 
 change of ideas that rendered the appreciation of French dra- 
 matic literature and its interpreters easy. 
 
 He did not pause to reflect that in America, though educa- 
 tion is far more widely disseminated, it is also more superfi- 
 cial ; that this busy nation, while it astonishes the rest of the 
 world by the gigantic advances it makes in all the mechanical 
 arts, by its wonderful inventions in navigation, in agriculture, 
 has had no time as yet to perfect itself in the arts that are 
 less practically useful — no leisure to cultivate the taste for 
 things that to old Europe ai-e necessaries and to young Amer- 
 ica superfluities. 
 
 Had Raphael been guilty of two literary ideas, his wild 
 anticipations of success would have been somewhat tamed by 
 the difference between the French classic drama and the En- 
 glish or Shakspearian, which is also that of the United States. 
 That Madame Ristori should charm even those among the 
 
 O 2
 
 822 MEMOIES OF RACHEL. 
 
 Parisians who were ignorant of her language is easily ac- 
 counted for; the subjects of the tragedies she played were, 
 for the most part, familiar to the French public ; they were 
 treated and developed in the same manner as their own trage- 
 dies ; they therefore asked no more than the Italian actress 
 could give them, and that they did not understand they knew 
 intuitively. 
 
 It could not be thus in regard to Rachel in America; its 
 citizens were accustomed to dramas in which the tragic and 
 the comic elements, the sublime and the grotesque, the lan- 
 guage of royalty and that of the lower classes are all com- 
 bined and mingled. They do not, even in their own lan- 
 guage, like to have that narrated and described that might be 
 put into action before their own eyes. It was not probable 
 that those accustomed to such scenic performances would be 
 entertained by French tragedies — tragedies of Greek and 
 Latin origin, without any variety of scene or style, where the 
 language, always sublime, never unbends, where the dramatis 
 pei'souce never even change their buskins. 
 
 The above considerations are, certcs, not far-fetched, and 
 would have presented themselves to any thinking mind, and, 
 had he reflected, would have dispelled some of the vapors that 
 spread so thick a haze over the brain of Raphael Felix. 
 
 A last, and certainly not the least important consideration, 
 was one quite overlooked by the ambitious manager. He 
 forgot, or did not choose to remember, that between him, the 
 improvident and inexperienced youth, ignoring the language, 
 the customs, and manners, the men and things of the country 
 he was going to put to contribution, and Barnum, the famous 
 showman who exhibited Jenny Lind, and whose extraordinary 
 tact, great experience, and well-combined measures in the way 
 of puifs, trumpet-pealed announcements, «fec., &c., had so large- 
 ly influenced her success, there was an immeasurable dis- 
 tance. 
 
 From the moment this great project was conceived to that 
 which witnessed its execution, nothing else was thought of, 
 nothing else was cared for. We will not pause to speak of 
 all the attempts made by friends and admirers to dissuade 
 the tragedienne from this suicidal design. It was whis])ere(l
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 323 
 
 that inducements of considerable pecuniary value were tried 
 in vain. Among these bits of private gossip, it was said that, 
 in accordance with a Avish expressed by the tragedienne to 
 possess a set of clasps to complete the superb ^;an«'e of jewels 
 she wore with the costume o{ Adrienne Lecouvreur, the sum 
 of 100,000 francs was offered on condition she would remain 
 in France. This, though a paltry consideration when opposed 
 to the potent one of the expected 1,200,000 francs, was still 
 too important to be slighted. The condition was accepted, 
 the sum was sent ; part of it was used for the purchase of the 
 clasps, the remainder prudently added to the mass, and the 
 tragedienne remained : the handsome bribe purchased a respite 
 of six months. 
 
 It must be owned, however, that it was long before Rachel 
 herself viewed the emigration in the fair colors in which it 
 was pictured by those who had an interest in her going. 
 Such was her irresolution, that, to the very last moment, 
 Raphael trembled lest she should give it up altogethex*. How- 
 ever, it was said that he had wisely provided against such an 
 emergency, and insured himself in more ways than one against 
 any eventual backsliding. Under color of losses at the Bourse, 
 he borrowed a sum to defray the expenses of a preliminary 
 voyage to America, vmdertaken to make the arrangements for 
 her reception there. He afterward obtained a second install- 
 ment for some other preparatory requisite, then again another 
 to advance the month's pay to the actors engaged, for the 
 passage expenses, &c., &c. When he had thus borrowed to 
 the amount of 80 or 100,000 francs, he felt more secure for 
 his own share of compensation. 
 
 On the 11th of August all doubt was at an end; Rachel 
 embarked in the Pacific. The countenance of the tragedienne 
 wore a heavy cloud. Mute and thoughtful, she seemed to 
 leave the shores of Europe with marked reluctance. It might 
 be that the natural grief of parting with friends had thus sad- 
 dened her ; some of the members of the company suggested 
 that she might be reflecting on M. Dumas's pleasant predic- 
 tion that, "should Mademoiselle Rachel succumb to climate, 
 fatigue, or disease, like Mademoiselle Sontag, her brother Ra- 
 phael would make the best of the misfortune by having her
 
 324 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 embalmed, and exhibiting the body of Rachel to the Ameri- 
 cans, since he could not exhibit her alive." 
 
 Her very first day on board was marked by an incident 
 that might well have inspired sad presentiments. One of the 
 passengers, who was far gone in a consumption, died that 
 afternoon. The body was put into a coffin and placed in one 
 of the boats. For the first few days the presence of death 
 cast a gloom on the passengers; for some time, when walking 
 on the deck, they either avoided the side where the body hung 
 in the little boat, or the laugh was hushed, the voice lowered 
 to a whisper, the quick pace slackened as they passed by. 
 But the impression of awe that produced this respect was 
 soon effaced, -and the merry chat, the light song, and cheerful 
 laugh were heard, as uncontrolled and free as though that sad 
 memento of what was, is, and will be, to the end of time it- 
 self, Avas no longer there. The mute eloquence of those lips 
 doomed to eternal silence was soon unheeded by the thought- 
 less crowd, and the poor aunt of the youth was the only one 
 whose countenance retained any trace of sadness. 
 
 During the passage Captain Nye presented to his celebrated 
 passenger a superb mahogany box, filled with American per- 
 fumery, the gift of a citizen of New York, who wished to re- 
 main incognito. The gallantry of her unknown admirer did 
 not, however, render the tragedienne more cheerful, and she 
 finally chose to remain altogether in her cabin. 
 
 The day before the arrival of the Pacific she condescended, 
 however, to make her appearance at the public table. This 
 was the day of what is called the captain's dinner, Avhen Cham- 
 pagne is supplied gi'atis, and toasts, speeches, and congratu- 
 lations are made and exchanged. After the usual toasts to 
 the captain and to the ladies, some one proposed the health 
 of Mademoiselle Eachel. So far there was nothing unusual 
 or out of the w'ay in the proceedings, but they did not end 
 here. It occurred to some busy gentleman that the members 
 of the French company would hail with delight an opportu- 
 nity of singing the " Marseillaise :" probably he thought they 
 were in the habit of singing it night and morning, as some 
 other people are supposed to say their prayers, and with like 
 hopes of a happy result. His expectations were rather dis-
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 325 
 
 appointed, for the astonishment of those thus unexpectedly 
 called upon was great indeed. The honor was unanimously 
 declined, for the very good reason that not one knew by heart 
 the French national hymn. 
 
 No one seemed inclined to make a display of his musical 
 powers, until a gentleman from New Orleans, having devoted 
 himself, Curtius-like, for the good of all, volunteered, on con- 
 dition the burden of the song should be taken up by all pres- 
 ent. The reputation of the French company for patriotism 
 was thus saved. As for the burden, it was taken up, and in 
 such guise that, whatever credit the singei's deserved for good- 
 will, it was evident there was nothing to boast of in the way 
 of harmony. It was plainly apparent they were nearing a 
 land of liberty, for every man sent forth his voice in the most 
 independent manner, perfectly free from all trammels of time 
 or measure, and utterly careless of his neighbor's performance. 
 At any rate, the result was one that had not always been 
 the case with the belligerent hymn — it ended, not in tears and 
 blood, but in heai-ty and prolonged merriment. 
 
 The close of the voyage was marked by the usual act of 
 conventional generosity which custom has made a law for all 
 artists of European celebrity, and which to neglect would be 
 to peril the expected success. Mademoiselle Kachel remitted 
 to the captain two thousand francs to be distributed among 
 the crew of the Pacific, and eight hundred francs for the Sail- 
 ors' Orphan Asylum. Thinking this a favorable opportunity, 
 one of the lady-passengers requested the generous artiste would 
 give a few scenes from Corneille or Racine for the gi-atifica- 
 tion of all the passengers. Rather surprised at a call for 
 which her experience of English society had not prepared her, 
 the tragedienne returned a very positive refusal. 
 
 At seven o'clock on the following morning Rachel and her 
 companions landed on the shores of the El Dorado, on which 
 so many hopes were founded. They were received by Mr. 
 Gustave Naquet, the agent of Raphael, who seemed rather 
 annoyed than pleased that the Pacific should have got in so 
 early. The cause was soon explained : preparations had been 
 made to receive Hermione with all due honors ; a steam-boat 
 was to have brought out her guards — the Lafayette company
 
 326 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 of militia, consisting of French citizens of New York — with 
 a band of music playing French tunes, to meet the steamer 
 and greet its celebrated passenger. A number of ladies and 
 gentlemen had been invited to join the party. Great, there- 
 fore, was the disappointment when the Pacific, expected at ten 
 o'clock, chose to anticipate the time by three hours, and spoil 
 this little nautical fete. 
 
 The tragedienne, however, seemed rather rejoiced at having 
 escaped the threatened ovation, and congratulated herself on 
 being permitted to disembark quietly, without the annoyance 
 of a gaping crowd escorting her to her hotel. But she was 
 not to be let off so easily ; no sooner had she laid her head on 
 the pillow, tired, weary, and glad to think she was once more 
 on terra Jirma, Avhen the persevering Lafayette Guards congre- 
 gated under her windows and commenced their serenade. 
 
 The victim was doomed; there was no help for it but to 
 resign herself with as a good a grace as might be to the in- 
 fliction. She di-essed herself and made her appearance on the 
 balcony. Content with this submission, her tormentors finally 
 permitted her to seek the rest she so greatly needed. 
 
 The St. Nicholas, with all its New World splendor, was not 
 the place to suit one accustomed to the quiet comfort and re- 
 tirement of a European hotel. The very next day found Ra- 
 chel installed with her younger sisters, Leah and Dinah, in a 
 private boarding-house in Clinton Place. Raphael and the 
 father went to other lodgings, and Sarah chose to reside by 
 herself in another quarter of the town. This division of the 
 family gave rise to numerous conjectures as to the motives 
 that led to it, as though some very potent one were needed 
 for such a measure. The remainder of the company took 
 lodgings wherever it suited their means and convenience. 
 
 Preparations were now actively made for the great attack 
 on the pockets of the American citizens, and the manager was 
 soon exceedingly busy carrying out the operations of the siege 
 at his office in Wall Street. A wonderful effect of the desire 
 to make money manifested itself in the quickness with which 
 Raphael made himself sufficiently master of the language of 
 the country for all ordinary purposes. On his arrival he 
 could say but a few sentences ; in a few days he could not
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 327 
 
 only understand all that was said, but make others understand 
 him — when he chose. We say when he chose, for it did not 
 always suit Raphael's purpose to be too clear. When Ameri- 
 cans who spoke French well attempted to prove their pro- 
 ficiency in that language when applying for seats, or for any 
 other purpose connected with the theatre, the prudent mana- 
 ger preferred replying in broken English, because, as he used 
 to tell the actors, he could not be made responsible for any 
 thing he might be understood to promise — he was liable to 
 make mistakes in a foi*eign tongue, and to say one thing when 
 he meant another. Thus he found means to evade keeping 
 such engagements as turned out to be against his interests. 
 
 On the 3d of September the tragedienne made her first ap- 
 pearance on the boards of the Metropolitan Theatre. The 
 play that preceded the tragedy was "Les Droits de I'Homme," 
 which, much as it was liked in Europe, scarcely pleased the 
 majority of the audience, who, not understanding French, and 
 having come expressly to see Kachel, thought the two acts of 
 the comedy interminable. They had, however, to endure, 
 with what patience they possessed, the first act of " Les Ho- 
 races" before their curiosity could be satisfied. At length it 
 was Gamine's turn to come on, and she was greeted with three 
 or four rounds of applause. To one who was accustomed to 
 create an extraordinary sensation wherever she went, and who 
 had been recalled twenty-two times in Vienna, the reception 
 given her by the New-Yorkers seemed but lukewarm. She 
 was, however, warmly applauded, and recalled at the end — 
 not of the tragedy, for it was not all acted — but of the role. 
 The applause of the European claque being wholly unknown 
 in the United States, the bona fide expressions of approbation 
 the real public there give is far more valuable, though, per- 
 haps, less violent and prolonged than that of the hired Romans 
 stationed under the lustre of a Parisian theatre. 
 
 This first performance produced 2G,334 francs, a sum ex- 
 ceeding any one ever made in a single night by any actor in 
 Europe. But it was far below the brilliant expectations that 
 had been founded on the success obtained by Jenny ; as long 
 as the singer's gains were the point of comparison, that which 
 would have been thought a very handsome reward dwindled
 
 328 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 into insignificance. The LincVs first performance had brought 
 nearly 100,000 francs. 
 
 Notwithstanding Raphael's disappointment, he could not 
 improve the situation of affairs ; no after performance even 
 attained as high a sum as this first one ; and though it will be 
 seen that every one yielded a much larger sum than he could 
 have hoped to realize dui'ing a similar tour in any European 
 country, it was nothing to those who had counted on fifty or 
 sixty thousand francs every night. 
 
 On the 4th " Phedre" was given, and another comedy ; on 
 the Gth, " Adrienne Lecouvreur." This drama was in Amer- 
 ica much preferred to any of the classic tragedies, and this 
 was also the case in Europe wherever French was not the 
 language of the country. For those not perfectly familiar 
 with the literature of France, the long speeches in the trage- 
 dies of Corneille and Racine must have been exceedingly tire- 
 some. Besides, there is nothing in these to please the eye; 
 the eternal repetition of the same costumes — a few yards of 
 flannel — and of the same decoration. The Greek palace, with 
 its two old red arm-chairs, must invest the whole thing in the 
 eyes of foreigners with the most unendurable monotony ; add 
 to these drawbacks the being obliged to follow the author in 
 an execrable translation that has neither rhyme nor reason, 
 that makes the most egregious nonsense of the most eloquent 
 passages, and in wdiich the sublime is grotesque, the pathetic 
 ludicrous ; then let the public consist of people who have been 
 too busy money-making all their lives to have had time to 
 study the demigod passions of the Greek and Roman heroes, 
 to have learned to appreciate the simple grandeur, the sculp- 
 tural purity, the archaic severity of art, and what wonder 
 that it should prefer the brilliant, high-colored melo-drama 
 " Adrienne Lecouvreur," with its change of decoration at each 
 act, its rich costumes'? Mademoiselle Rachel and her sister 
 Sarah might have followed the precedent set by Mademoiselle 
 Georges, and had it announced on the bills that they " played 
 with all their diamonds," so dazzlingly were they adorned in 
 " Adrieime." 
 
 The pure lines, the still, statuesque beauty that no grief, 
 however violent, must alter, the stern dignity that would dis-
 
 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 329 
 
 dain to exhibit its agony in exaggerated contortions, the eter- 
 nal serenity and heroic grace of the tragic muse could have no 
 charms compared with those of the drama, her bastard sister, 
 whose unbridled passions, nervous excitability, and convulsive 
 gi-ief are more in accordance with the hlasc taste of the day, 
 and delight those who have no time to analyze their sensa- 
 tions, and distinguish truth from fiction. 
 
 During Mademoiselle Kachel's stay in New York the yellow 
 fever was raging in Norfolk and Portsmouth with extraordi- 
 nary violence. Public subscriptions were every where raised 
 to remedy in some measure the misery and destitution that 
 its ravages occasioned. M. Gustave Naquet having repre- 
 sented to the tragedienne that it was customary for the stars 
 who levied large taxes on the land to show themselves munif- 
 icent in such cases as the present, and that the mite she was 
 to contribute must not be under a thousand dollars, she reluct- 
 antly consented to make this donation to the families of the 
 victims. The capital thus employed not bringing in the im- 
 mediate interest she had expected, for the Americans were too 
 much accustomed to such acts to give them the importance 
 she attached to her spontaneous gift, it was soon regretted, 
 and she reproached her adviser quite bitterly, saying, "Well, 
 what good have my 5000 francs done me? Just money 
 thrown away." 
 
 In the mean while the ever-busy Lafayette Guards took it 
 into their wise heads that Mademoiselle Kachel should sing 
 them the "Marseillaise." They had no particular reason to 
 give for the wish. Because she had sung it for the gratifica- 
 tion of the Parisian populace of 1848, it did not follow that 
 the citizens of New York should take any particular delight 
 in it. The difference of time, place, people, opportunity, were 
 considerations totally overlooked by these exacting gentlemen. 
 Perhaps they imagined the demand proved their nationality. 
 
 "Whatever their motives, they would give the tragedienne no 
 rest until she had consented to their whim. It must be own- 
 ed that they had some little trouble in obtaining what they 
 asked. Mademoiselle Rachel refusing at first on very good 
 grounds. As an apology for her reluctance, she sent the fol- 
 lowing letter, alleging inability, to her exacting countrymen.
 
 330 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 The letter was republished in France as a justification, inas- 
 much as it proved she had complied only after much hesita- 
 tion; but it scarcely accomplished the desired object, Jules 
 Janin insisting she should have said she "would not" instead 
 of " she could not ;" she should have declined point-blank in 
 lieu of pleading want of voice. 
 
 " Dear Countrymen, — It is seven years since I have sung 
 the ' Marseillaise ;' at the time I did sing it I had voice, and 
 my health was still young. Now I am often exliausted after 
 the play ; I should, therefore, really feai' to injui'e the interests 
 of others should I increase my fatigues. 
 
 " You may believe in the deep regret I feel in not daring 
 to promise what you desire of me, when I tell you I loved to 
 sing the ' Mai'seillaise' as I love to act my finest part in Cor- 
 neille. 
 
 " Believe me, dear countrymen, &c., &c., Rachel. 
 
 "New York, September 8th, 1855." 
 
 But the Guards were not to be thus discouraged ; and final- 
 ly, on the 28th of September, having, after the evening's per- 
 formance, repaired to her residence and given her a serenade 
 with accompaniment of vociferations for the "Marseillaise," 
 they obtained a solemn promise from Raphael that the "Mar- 
 seillaise" would very shortly constitute a part of the evening's 
 entertainment ofi^ered by Mademoiselle Rachel to the theatre- 
 going public. As for singing it on a balcony for the gratifi- 
 cation of a non-paying street audience, the tragedienne could 
 never have been made to understand that such a thing was 
 expected of her. 
 
 The announcement of this extra performance was, however, 
 very injurious to the receipts of the intervening ones — people 
 waited for the song-night. 
 
 It came at last ; on the 8th of October the bills announced 
 the longed-for "Marseillaise." 
 
 But in the interval that had elapsed between the promise 
 and its realization, a terrible blow had been struck at the 
 foundation of the delicate constitution that required so much 
 care and received so little. There was either a tendency from
 
 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 331 
 
 birth to pulmonary disease, or the seeds had been sown in 
 early youth, when poverty entailed insufficient clothing and 
 frequent exposure to the inclement weather. Rachel, when 
 at the Conservatoire, had suffered from a; complaint of the 
 larynx that frequently ends in consumption. Now, however, 
 the mischief, long dormant, was suddenly developed by negli- 
 gence. A grand religious festival having occurred among the 
 Hebrews of New York, Rachel was invited. Ignorant of the 
 treacherous nature of the climate and its sudden vicissitudes, 
 she had dressed herself in accordance with the mildness of 
 the day. On her return home, however, there was a complete 
 change ; a sharp east wind prevailed, and the consequence was 
 she caught a violent cold. From that moment her doom was 
 sealed, for subsequent carelessness rooted the evil. 
 
 In the evening she went to a soiree at the house of M. de 
 Tropbriand, the talented editor of the " Courier des Etats 
 Unis," to whom the French were indebted for very excellent 
 articles on their performances. This second imprudence ag- 
 gravated the mischief done in the morning. 
 
 On the night, then, that the " Marseillaise" was to be given, 
 Rachel was ill-disposed to sing ; but the audience had assem- 
 bled chiefly for the purpose of hearing it, and she had no choice ; 
 as long as they saw she could act, they took it for granted she 
 could sing. 
 
 The effect of the " Marseillaise" in New York was nothing 
 compared to that produced in 1848, and it could not be other- 
 wise. In Paris the house was filled with an excited multi- 
 tude, who heard and saw through the medium of their own 
 feelings, and whom it required little exertion to raise to a 
 pitch of enthusiasm that reacted more or less on the actress : 
 there was no such stimulant in America, where the hymn of 
 " Rouget de I'lsle" could awake no dormant passions, and, iu 
 fact, could have in itself no more real interest for the audience 
 than any other song. Mademoiselle Rachel had never had any 
 voice for singing, and still less ear ; she could keep neither 
 time nor tune ; the orchestra of the Theatre Fran^ais was 
 aware of these deficiencies of la grande tragedienne, whom Na- 
 tm-e had never designed for a cantatrice, and when she chose 
 to step out of her sphere it took care to supply them ; she did
 
 332 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 not sing to the music, the music followed her melojiceia, dis- 
 sembled, covered the defective points, and not unfrequently 
 anticipated and prevented too discordant ones. She and the 
 orchestra were old acquaintances, and had practiced the thing 
 together often. But here she was in the presence of musicians 
 who thought she knew how to sing, and therefore played ac- 
 cording to rule, leaving her often at a distance, or finding her 
 start on before ; they performed a tune while she chanted a 
 sort of recitation without much of any. Add to this disad- 
 vantage that of a want of inclination, a cold on her chest, a 
 cold audience, and the effect could scarcely be very exhilara- 
 ting. 
 
 The spectators gave her credit for her compliance, if not for 
 her skill, by applauding very courteously. The esteem in 
 which they really held the performance was made apparent 
 by the difference of the receipts when it was given the second 
 time. On the first night it brought 21,299 francs. When it 
 was repeated, some days after, there was a decrease of over 
 one fourth in the receipts, which only amounted to 15,267 
 francs. 
 
 The benefit of Mademoiselle Eachel proved attractive, and 
 consequently remunerative, though she gave one of her worst 
 plays, " Jeanne d'Arc." She again performed the " Marseil- 
 laise," and Madame Lagrange sung the grand air from "I 
 Pui'itani." The result was 22,128 francs. 
 
 Though much troubled with her cough, such was Rachel's 
 impatience to finish her engagement in America, that she 
 played four nights in succession. She had private reasons — 
 private, inasmuch as they did not concern the public at large, 
 but not secret, for she did not hesitate to speak very openly 
 on the subject — for her eagerness to return to France. 
 
 From New York the French company went to Boston — 
 not the best climate to cure coughs — and on the 23d gave 
 " Les Horaces." Mademoiselle Rachel continued to perform 
 in succession on the 24th, 25th, 2Gth, and 27th. The success 
 obtained in Boston was far more brilliant, considering the nu- 
 merical diiference in the population, than in New York. 
 
 At this juncture there was a little reaction, caused by an 
 attempt to obtain higher prices for certain seats than those
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 333 
 
 mentioned on the bills, and the rather cavalier way in which 
 the press, so omnipotent in the United States, was treated by 
 Raphael Felix. Whether the fault was really in the man- 
 ager, or whether, as he asserted, it was attributable to out- 
 side speculators, with which he had nothing to do, the conse- 
 quences fell on him ; for, though Mademoiselle Rachel ap- 
 peared in two pieces on the same night — " Polyeucte" and 
 "Le Moineau de Lesbie" — they brought only some 4000 
 francs. Satisfactory explanations having been given and the 
 •evils complained of remedied, the breach was healed, and the 
 public restored its favor to the French company. 
 
 By a curious coincidence, while Mademoiselle Rachel was 
 giving the "Adrienne Lecouvreur" of Messrs. Scribe and Le- 
 gouve to the Bostonians, Miss Eliza Logan was playing an 
 apocryphal Adrienne in a play translated, or rather "Angli- 
 cized with variations," from the French drama, and entitled 
 " The Youth of Marshal Saxe." 
 
 On the 2d of November the tragedy of " Virginie," and, 
 " by request," the " Marseillaise," were given for the benefit 
 of Mademoiselle Rachel, on which occasion many of the 
 students of Cambridge, wishing to obtain a better view of the 
 tragedienne, came on the stage as supernumeraries. All the 
 French in Boston, the majority of whom were workmen, were 
 in the house that evening ; of course, the success of the "Mar- 
 seillaise" was very great, that portion of the audience having 
 some affinity with the public Mademoiselle Rachel had chant- 
 ed it to in 1848. This was her last night in Boston. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 18oG. 
 
 Return to New York. — Jules .Tanin in the Field again. — Philadelphia. 
 — Le Commencement de la Fin. — Little Family Jars. — Charleston. — 
 The last Peiformance. — Maurice. — Havana. 
 
 While the tragedienne was electrifying all the French pre- 
 tenders to ultra-Republicanism in the American cities, the 
 news of this revival of by-gone mummeries had reached Paris, 
 and rekindled the wrath of her quondam admirer, Jules Janin,
 
 334 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 who, in a very eloquent article, fulminated his anathema, not 
 on the originators of the sin, but on those who were most in- 
 nocent of it. He censured with more severity and spirit than 
 sti'ict justice the American nation as having asked for a revo- 
 lutionary French hymn never perhaps thought of by them, 
 and which was to the Frenchmen who did request it solely a 
 reminiscence of their own land. His article, making all al- 
 lowance for the exaggerations into which his anger hurried 
 him, was ably written, and annoyed Mademoiselle Rachel the 
 more as, although full of praises of her, it spoke of her expedi- 
 tion as a complete failure. 
 
 On the 6th of November the French company again com- 
 menced its performances in New York. The first was " Adri- 
 enne Lecouvreur," followed, on the 8th, by " Lady TartuiFe," 
 but the disadvantages of the house were such that the receipts 
 wei'e not over half the usual sums. The next perfoi'mances 
 were given at Niblo's little theatre, and proved more lucra- 
 tive. 
 
 On the 17th Mademoiselle Rachel bade farewell to the 
 New Yorkers in " Phedre" and " Le Moineau de Lesbie." 
 An ode, written for the occasion by M. de Trobriand, Rachel 
 a I'Amerique, was recited by the tragedienne, and received with 
 hearty applause by the audience. 
 
 From New York the company proceeded to Philadelphia, 
 where, in an evil hour. Mademoiselle Rachel made her ap- 
 peai'ance at the Walnut Street Theatre, in " Les Horaces," on 
 the 19th. The house had not been warmed ! This piece of 
 unpardonable neglect on the part of somebody was fatal to 
 Mademoiselle Rachel, whose cough had continued from the 
 day she caught cold in the Synagogue. It was a cold Novem- 
 ber evening, and the atmosphere of the house, damp and raw, 
 was worse than that of the open street. Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel's hacking cough was painful to hear, and she looked 
 wretchedly pale as she sat, wrapped up in her shawl, waiting 
 in the slips her turn to come on. The result of this was, that 
 she was unable to rise the next day, and remained ill during 
 all the time she was in that town. 
 
 This was the commencement of Raphael's discomfiture. So 
 far, if the reality had not equaled his wild expectations, it had
 
 IMEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 335 
 
 consisted of such solid, substantial profits as would have sat- 
 isfied any reasonable hopes. From New York his sister had 
 already sent to France 300,000 francs of her gains, including 
 her London receipts, and he himself G0,000 francs. The few 
 drawbacks that had occurred had proceeded from his own mis- 
 management. In his eagerness to make money rapidly, he 
 had curtailed the privileges of the press, infringed the laws 
 and customs of the country he was in, quaiTcled with his 
 agent, and, on the whole, proved himself but an indifferent 
 showman. Besides these outside troubles there were httle 
 domestic jars, inevitable in a family where the tempers were 
 so various and some of them so violent, and where the several 
 members had become accustomed to a perfectly independent 
 and uncontrolled life. 
 
 It Avas more especially between Eaphael and Sarah that 
 dissensions were wont to arise ; but, although a furious quar- 
 rel would at times spring up from the most insignificant causes, 
 it seldom lasted. On one occasion, some little misimderstand- 
 ing having occurred during a rehearsal, there was a terrible 
 falling out between them, the brother intrenching himself be- 
 hind his authority as manager, and the sister setting it at 
 naught in the most defiant manner. Sarah knew no bounds 
 when in a passion, and her language was then more apt to 
 savor of her earlier career than was quite befitting her present 
 position ; nor were the ears of her adversaries always safe 
 from substantial buffets as well as angry words. After a 
 very violent interchange of epithets neither fraternal nor com- 
 plimentary, during which the manager maintained himself at 
 a respectful distance from his refractory actress, she declared 
 she would tear up her engagement, to which the reply was 
 that nothing could give him greater pleasure. Accordingly, the 
 document was sent back in a dozen pieces. No one seemed 
 to think the country was in danger, or that the interest of the 
 French company would be severely damaged by the loss of 
 the retiring member. Kaphael was exultant, and Rachel in 
 a state of great hope that Sarah would fulfill her threat and 
 take herself back to Europe ; at the same time she was in 
 great perplexity, for she dared not say she wished her off, lest 
 Sarah should stay to spite her ; nor could she venture to tell
 
 336 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 her to stay, lest she should allow herself to be advised. When 
 Sarah, therefore, came in hot haste to make her complaints, 
 she took a middle course, condoled with her griefs, said it 
 was too bad — there was no living with Raphael — concluding 
 with, " At any rate, dear, you shall not go penniless ; I'll let 
 you have six thousand francs to help you to return, &c., &c." 
 
 Meanwhile " Lady TartufFe" was to be performed the next 
 night, and of course Sarah, who played the countess, was out 
 of the question. Raphael, too, in the heat of the quaiTel, 
 would not change the announcement, counting on Mademoi- 
 selle Durey, a very intelligent actress, who had played the 
 part often, in the most able manner, when with Rachel on 
 other tours. Mademoiselle Durey replied she was ready to 
 play the part, but that, her salary not permitting her to own 
 so expensive a wardrobe as Mademoiselle Sarah, she had no 
 dress befitting the occasion. Anxious to prove to the delin- 
 quent how well he could get along without her, Raphael of- 
 fered, if the dress could be got ready in time, he would pay 
 for it. Mademoiselle Durey, in a great fright lest the loving 
 relatives should get reconciled before she had secured this 
 munificent gift, posted to Stewart's, selected a splendid moire 
 antique, exacted a solemn vow of the dressmaker to bring it 
 at the appointed hour, and awaited in great trepidation the 
 result. 
 
 " My forebodings proved true," quoth Mademoiselle Durey; 
 " they did make it up, and Sarah played the countess, but the 
 dress was in time ; it had been cut and fitted for me, so Ra- 
 phael had to pay the 500 francs it had cost. I was still fear- 
 ful to the last that it would be taken fi-om me and altered for 
 Leah or Dinah, they being shorter than I." 
 
 Rachel, though often the cause of strife, seldom allowed 
 herself to quarrel. She invariably preserved the quiet dignity 
 we have so frequently had occasion to mention. She dreaded 
 any thing like a scene. She had brought with her from Eu- 
 rope a second waiting-maid, a great, awkward, raw-boned 
 virago, called Eleonore, who had been a cook all her life, and 
 was entirely ignorant of the duties of the elevated station 
 IMademoiselle Rachel, for private reasons, had promoted her 
 to. Between this useless supernumerary and the faithful old
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 837 
 
 Rose there existed great jealousy. Rose felt that while she 
 had all the supervision and care of her mistress's wardrobe and 
 toilet, this interloper, who did nothing, was being petted and 
 made much of. The strife grew so violent that Mademoiselle 
 Rachel was obliged to separate the rivals, and send Rose to 
 live at the hotel where the members of the company resided : 
 there she continued her duty of attending to her costumes, &c., 
 but Eleonore remained attached to her own person. This 
 piece of injustice was dictated by the feeling that rendered her 
 so impatient to return to Europe. The woman to whom she 
 gave the preference over the attached creature that had been 
 with her from the beginning of her career was the servant of 
 a friend she had left behind, and for whom she openly pro- 
 fessed an affection she had never felt for any one before. She 
 had taken of her own accord this coarse cook-maid into her 
 service at a salary of 150 francs monthly, in order to have a 
 witness of her truth and constancy, and there was no kind- 
 ness she did not lavish on this woman to secure her favorable 
 report. 
 
 Poor Rose cried from morning to night, and excited the 
 sympathy of the two younger sisters, Leah and Dinah. The 
 latter, one day, expressing herself rather harshly with regard 
 to Rachel's treatment of Rose, Sarah, who was present, took 
 the matter up so hotly on the opposite side that Dinah could 
 not play for a day or two after in consequence of the imprer- 
 sion her sister's arguments had made on her face. 
 
 All these little bickerings, however, though frequent, did 
 not interfere with the general prosperity of the French com- 
 pany. Every one but the Felixes was satisfied with the pros- 
 pect of continued success. In a letter from one of the mem- 
 bers to a friend in Paris, we find the following under date of 
 October 29 th : 
 
 " We are playing every day. I am obliged to own I fear 
 we shall see you again too soon ; the success of our grande tra- 
 gedienne is such I really think she will make her 1,200,400 
 francs before the nine months are elapsed." 
 
 In another, dated the 14th of November, the same corre- 
 spondent remarks : 
 
 " They say in Paris we make no money. We do not real- 
 
 P
 
 338 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 
 
 ize 30,000 francs a night ; but Mademoiselle Eachel has al- 
 ready remitted to France 300,000 francs, including the last 
 receipts of the London performances. She has to come to the 
 United States very reluctimtly, for, as she says herself, she 
 loves for the first time, and she has only resigned herself to 
 the sacrifice she makes in leaving France for the sake of her 
 famihj. Let us hope this feeling will preponderate over the 
 first, and that we shall not see France again before next 
 June." 
 
 The state of Rachel's health precluding her from reappear- 
 ing before the Philadelphians, and the physicians having ad- 
 vised an immediate removal to a warmer climate, the company 
 gave four performances without her. English plays were per- 
 formed on the same evenings by the English company, but 
 the plan met with so little favor that the receipts did not 
 amount to a thousand francs a night. The house had been 
 rented for ten performances, and had to be paid in any case. 
 The same thing occurred with regard to all the theatres that 
 had been engaged beforehand, and the amount thus spent did 
 not average less than 20,000 francs for the cities of the United 
 States, and 50,000 francs for the Havana theatre. 
 
 It was during Mademoiselle Rachel's forced seclusion in 
 Philadelphia that the report of her death, with the most cir- 
 cumstantial account of her last moments, went the rounds of 
 the American papers, and finally traveled to Europe, where 
 it was republished in all its most minute details. AYhen the 
 subject of this wretched joke heard of it, she was more amused 
 than vexed. 
 
 It was finally decided that the company should go at once 
 to Charleston. Much was hoped from the climate there ; but 
 Rachel herself would have willingly returned immediately to 
 France. With her this was now the ruling passion, and it 
 was more than once feared she would start by the next steam- 
 er, and leave her brother to settle his affairs as he chose. 
 
 On the 27th, Mademoiselle Rachel, her father, and her sis- 
 ter Sarah, anticipating by a few hours the departure of the 
 other members of the company, left Philadelphia. The in- 
 valid traveled by shorter stages, so that, although she had 
 preceded her companions, she arrived after them. The first
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 339 
 
 performance, consisting, as usual when she did not play, of 
 comedies, was given without her on the 10th of December, 
 and was not very numerously attended. It was every where 
 the same, the attraction was Kachel ; they wished to see the 
 idol Europe had so long worshiped, not a French play they 
 could not understand. As for Kaphael, convinced that the 
 health of his sister would now be completely restored, he took 
 this opportunity to go on to Havana and make the necessary 
 arrangements for her reception there. 
 
 There was in Charleston a French doctor whose skill was 
 highly spoken of; he was sent for by Mademoiselle Rachel, 
 and his only advice was that she should maintain herself in a 
 state of absolute repose for six months. This was the only 
 thing she needed, but it was a sine qua non condition of health. 
 This, however, the patient rejected as an utter impossibility. 
 Her cough continued very troublesome, but her strength and 
 general health being slightly improved, she was bent on per- 
 forming, and her reappearance was announced to take place 
 on the 17th instant, in the part oi Adrienne Lecouvreur. 
 
 This doctor was probably the first person Avho really saw 
 the danger in which the tragedienne stood even then. Her ill- 
 ness was spoken of as an affection of the larynx, but the lungs 
 were attacked already, and the utmost care and prudence was 
 required ; but when she had resolved on any thing, it was not 
 easy to dissuade her from it. Play she would, and play she 
 did — for the last time in America the bills said — for the last 
 time on earth said implacable Destiny. 
 
 M. Chery, who played in the drama the part of Michonnet, 
 the noble old stage-manager, was greatly shocked by the 
 change he saw in the once-bi'illiant Adrienne. A niece of his 
 had died of the fatal disease, the symptoms of which he clear- 
 ly recognized in Eachel. The last scene of the play contains 
 passages but too allusive Xo the doom she has since so cruelly 
 realized. 
 
 " Ah, quelles souffrances . . . . ce n'est plus ma 
 
 tete, c'est ma poitrine qui est brulante 
 
 j'ai la comme un brazier . . . comme un feu devorant 
 qui me consume — 
 
 "Ah! le mal redouble Vous qui m'aimez
 
 340 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 tant, sauvez moi, secourez moi . . . . je ne veux pas 
 mourir ! . . . a present je ne veux pas mourir — 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! exaucez-moi ! . . Mon Dieu ! laissez moi 
 vivre .... quelque jours encore . . . . Je suis 
 si jeune et la vie s'ouvrait pour moi si belle! 
 
 " La vie ! . . la vie ! . . Vains efforts ! . . . . 
 vaine priere ! . . . . mes jours sont comptes ! je sens 
 les forces et I'existence qui m'echappent ! 
 
 " O triomphes du theatre ! mon coeur ne battra plus de vos 
 ardentes emotions ! . . Et vous, longues etudes d'un art 
 que j'aimais tant, rien ne restera de vous apres moi 
 Rien ne nous survit a nous autres . . rien que le souve- 
 nir." 
 
 Hearing her utter, w^ith all the eloquence of truth, these 
 heart-rending phrases, in which the dying actress clings so de- 
 spairingly to the life ebbing away so rapidly, these passionate 
 regrets of the triumphs of a career cut short so early, M. Chery 
 was deeply impressed with the imminence of the peril. He 
 could not divest himself of the terrible thought that the death 
 she was imitating was really in her, mocking the mocker ! 
 
 *' We have seen Rachel act for the last time," said he to a 
 friend. 
 
 When Raphael went to Havana on the 4th, he wished to 
 take Maurice with him. Maurice was a fine young man, with 
 whom he had become acquainted on board the Pacific, when 
 he made his preparatory trip to America. ' Pleased with this 
 youth's manners and address, Raphael had brought him back 
 to France, and he now filled the post of ticket-taker and in- 
 terpreter in the company. An indisposition, which afterward 
 proved to be the small-pox, prevented his accompanying the 
 manager to Havana. On the ninth day the poor fellow died. 
 
 Every one regretted Maurice, he was so obliging and kind ; 
 as for Mademoiselle Rachel, she liked him very much, and had 
 promised to establish him in some sort of business before the 
 end of the conge. His death was therefore carefully conceal- 
 ed from her, lest it should cause too great an impression in her 
 weak state, and on leaving Charleston she wrote to him who 
 was past all earthly joys and sori'ows. 
 
 The letter concluded Avith these words :
 
 MEMOIRS OF KACUEL. 341 
 
 " Adieu, my dear Maurice : I am firmly convinced we shall 
 soon meet again." 
 
 The incident is related by Mademoiselle Durey in the cor- 
 respondence already referred to. 
 
 " Her father, Mademoiselle Briard, and I, had dined with 
 her that evening, and she read us the letter she was writing 
 to comfort poor Maurice, whom we have to leave behind us, 
 she said ; the last lines of it sent a chill to our hearts. We 
 could not help thinking they were prophetic of the writer's 
 own approaching death." 
 
 The news of Eaphael's progress in Havana being of the 
 most exhilarating nature, the company embarked on the 19th 
 instant for that city. The Havaneros, too enthusiastic with 
 l^gard to the fine arts not to be electrified at the idea of pos- 
 sessing in their own town the grande iragklicnne, had sub- 
 scribed en masse. There could not be a doubt that the great- 
 est success would attend her if she performed ; unfortunately, 
 the last point was very uncertain. It was hoped, however, 
 that when she had recovered from the fatigues of the voyage 
 she would improve. 
 
 Every physician that was called in agreed in saying that 
 rest Avas indispensable. If climate could be of any avail, she 
 certainly had the benefit of the mildest winter quarters in the 
 world, yet she did not seem to get better, and the period of her 
 announced appearance was indefinitely adjourned. 
 
 This state of things was extremely annoying to the hapless 
 manager, who saw before him a wretched prospect : the idea 
 of having to refund all the bright doubloons and fair dollars 
 that had passed into his possession was cruel indeed. 
 
 As for the Havaneros, their impatience soon made them 
 irritable, and they declared their utter disbelief in the alleged 
 cause of delay. That Rachel could not play for them, when 
 they knew she had played a few days previous in Charleston 
 — the thing w^as absurd, and all the blame was laid to caprice. 
 By way of revenge, one of the leading papers, " La Preusa," 
 commenced the publication of M. Mirecourt's biography of 
 Rachel, translated into Spanish, to the infinite vexation of the 
 tragedienne. 
 
 Nor were the Havaneros alone to deem themselves fooled.
 
 342 MEMOIRS OP RACHEL. 
 
 Unfortunately, Rachel had so much accustomed all who knew 
 her to feigned indispositions during the course of her theatri- 
 cal career, whenever it suited her convenience, that now the 
 members of the company could not be brought to believe her 
 as ill as she really was. Her own family long doubted the 
 serious nature of her illness. Knowing how interested her 
 relatives were in her health for their own sakes, she had some- 
 times, in France, frightened her mother by complaining of just 
 the kind of symptoms she knew to be those of consumption. 
 Even when subsequently she was sent to reside in Egypt, few 
 in France believed her ill. She paid the penalty of former 
 deceptions. 
 
 The first performance was to have been given on the 25th of 
 December ; it was postponed to the Gth of January, her physi- 
 cian having peremptorily required the delay. The tragedienne 
 herself was exceedingly disappointed ; while the public mur- 
 mured and her companions accused her, she was suffering 
 acutely in mind and body. She removed to a house belong- 
 ing to M. Marty, the manager of the Havana theatre, and, se- 
 cluding herself entirely, refused to see even her relatives, on 
 whom she laid the blame of having brought her from France 
 on this injudicious expedition. She declared that all the com- 
 pany should leave for Europe, and that she would remain be- 
 hind, keeping only Mademoiselles Briard and Durey, and her 
 faithful old Eose. It was her intention, as soon as she got 
 better, to perform detached scenes, in which she meant the 
 two actresses should assist her. She would have none of her 
 relatives remain with her ; they must all go back to France. 
 
 This misanthropic fit lasted ten days, during which the two 
 ladies mentioned were alone admitted to see her. At last she 
 allowed herself to be persuaded that her wisest course would 
 be to return to Paris, where she could have every resource of 
 medical art ; it was agreed that every one, excepting Rachel, 
 was to sail for New York on the 8th of January, and thence 
 for Europe on the 19th. 
 
 When this decision was announced, great was the disap- 
 pointment of the actors, and with good reason, for, from the 
 day the notice was given, all salaries ceased. Mademoiselles 
 Durey and Briard, acting upon the idea Mademoiselle Rachel's
 
 MEMOIRS OP RACHEL. 343 
 
 proposal had suggested, resolved to remain and try their tor- 
 tunes there, since they were so far from home. Having men- 
 tioned this to Kachel, she highly approved of their plan, and 
 promised her support. 
 
 "Go to New York," said she ; '' I will pay your expenses 
 thither ; my bx'Other must give you the amount of your fare 
 back to Europe ; that sum will enable you to live until you 
 can carry out your plan. You will have letters of credit and 
 recommendation from me to use in case of failure. Write me 
 all particulars ; you will always find me ready to assist you ; 
 you are the only disinterested friends I have met with in my 
 life." She cautioned them not to mention to their compan- 
 ions her good intentions. 
 
 When the two adventurous ladies went to Raphael for their 
 passage-money there was quite a commotion among the other 
 members of the company. 
 
 " What were they going to do in America ?" 
 
 " Going to act, of course." 
 
 The example was contagious — all would stay ; the next day 
 half liad repented ; then again only four would remain ; on 
 the eve of sailing there were but the two proposers of the scheme 
 and the hair-dresser still firm in the resolve ; and on the 8th, 
 when the vessel left, the two ladies only embarked, steadfastly 
 resisting all efforts made to dissuade them. 
 
 The real motive for the apparent fickleness of the other 
 actors was the opposition their plan met with from Raphael. 
 When the Havaneros found they were not to hear Rachel, 
 they expressed a wish to see at least the other members of the 
 company, and the latter, nothing loth, as they were no longer 
 receiving a salary, proposed giving a sei'ies of performances 
 without the co-operation of the tragedienne. The manager, 
 who intended returning the following year at the head of a 
 company, fearing that the novelty would be over if the pres- 
 ent scheme took effect, refused to permit of it. 
 
 At first thei-e was a strong tendency to resistance; they 
 would remain and give a series of pieces in three acts, requir- 
 ing seven performers at most. The far-off yellow fever at last 
 conquered, and they thought they had better not lose their 
 passage-money.
 
 344 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 tlachel had at first announced her resolution to remain. 
 On the eve of the day her comrades were to leave she had 
 changed her mind, and was going also. The next day she 
 had again altered it, and would remain. The Clyde finally 
 sailed without her. 
 
 The ladies already mentioned were not the only ones who 
 remained in America. Sarah Felix left in the Isabel for 
 Charleston on the morning the Clyde sailed for New York ; 
 she did not return to Europe for some time. 
 
 Rachel had taken it into her head she would return to Eu- 
 rope in the same vessel that brought her out, the ill-fated 
 Pacific that was then expected in New York, but which was 
 never heard of. It was not until the 28 th of January, 1856, 
 that she returned to France. 
 
 Thus ended this disastrous trip — disastrous, be it under- 
 stood, with regard to its results on the health of the tragedienne, 
 but not, all things considered, in a pecuniary view. The fact 
 that the forty-two performances given by Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel produced a sum total of 684,033 francs — her share alone 
 amounting to 298,000 francs — sufficiently proves that the 
 citizens of the United States paid their tribute to dramatic 
 art with more liberality than any other nation, and that they 
 were far from deserving the violent diatribe fulminated against 
 them by M. Jules Janin in his feuilleton entitled " Rachel and 
 Tragedy in the United States." 
 
 However, the best answer the Americans can make is to be 
 found in the still more virulent reproaches the same critic had 
 addressed to his own countrymen on the subject of classic art 
 on a former occasion, when a fit of spleen or of gout had 
 soured his temper.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 345 
 
 CHAPTER XXXn. 
 
 1856. 
 
 Mcnlan. — Hotel Rachel. — Household Gods put up at Auction. — Value 
 set upon Souvenirs. — lugeuious Cicerones. — A Mother's Letter. — 
 Dear-bought Absence. — Washington's Grandson. — A new Claim on 
 tlie Theatre Fran(;-ais. — Eetui'n from Egypt. — Sojourn in Montpel- 
 lier. — Rachel's Children. 
 
 "We have now before us the melancholy task of narrating 
 the last two years of a life hitherto so agitated, so brilHant, 
 and so busy, but which was now drawing to its close in ob- 
 scurity and pain — two years, during which alternations of hope 
 and fear incidental to the deceptive nature of her disease, and 
 the anxieties of a mother who anticipates the day Avhen her 
 children will be left to the care and protection of comparative 
 strangers, had succeeded to the intoxicating triumphs that had 
 hitherto marked her days. 
 
 From the day she set foot on the Continent Kachel had but 
 one thought, one desire, one aim — life ! Her time was spent 
 in vain struggles to dislodge the enemy that had gained pos- 
 session of the very stronghold of vitality, in disputing every 
 breath to the heavy hand that was oppressing the weak chest ; 
 one day lulled into security by some favorable symptom, the 
 next feeling herself within the shadow of the tomb, yet, in 
 truth, nearing with hourly-increased rapidity the fatal goal. 
 For twenty-two months, and until within a few days — we 
 might say hours — of her death, she continued to hope against 
 every probability. 
 
 And yet the recollection of the fate of Eebecca, whose ill- 
 ness she had studied in all its phases, might well have dis- 
 couraged her from the first moment she perceived in herself 
 the same fatal symptoms. 
 
 She spent the spring of this year, 1856, at a friend's resi- 
 dence in Meulan, but on the approach of autumn, in pursu- 
 ance of the advice of the physicians, she resolved to pass the 
 winter on the Nile. 
 
 P2
 
 346 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 It was reported on this occasion that the tragedienne, dis- 
 gusted with the enthusiasm manifested for Madame Ristori, 
 never intended returning to France. The announcement that 
 her town residence was for sale, which was published shortly 
 after her departure, seemed to confirm this resolution of per- 
 petual exile. A few words on this hotel, of which such mar- 
 vels were related, may not be amiss here. On the announce- 
 ment of the sale, the French periodicals were seized with a 
 sudden phrensy of admiration, grief, enthusiasm, and despair. 
 All that could be said on the immense loss Paris was about 
 to sustain in the person of the owner, and on the immense 
 value of the dwelling and its contents, was exhausted. Those 
 who thus took on themselves the rule of auctioneers, to puff 
 and cry up the goods and chattels of the tragedienne, seemed 
 to wish to show the world how low their venal adulation could 
 stoop. But the result was only partially attained. All Paris 
 hastened to satisfy the curiosity excited by the pompous de- 
 scriptions of the improvised Robinses, and all Paris was dis- 
 appointed. The domestic curiosity-shop was pronounced to 
 be such a collection as might be found equaled by the contents 
 of almost any well-appointed private dwelling, and the temple 
 itself a tasteless, commonplace affair, more remarkable for 
 defects than beauties. 
 
 The Hotel Rachel, situated on the street to which the 
 echevia Trudon gave his not very euphonious name, can not 
 boast of the prospect its windows command. On one side 
 they overlook a large boarding-school, on the other the garden 
 of M. Mires. The present building was erected at Mademoi- 
 selle Rachel's desire by Charles Duval, the architect who has 
 since constructed the celebrated Grande Cafe Parisien. The 
 defects already referred to were inevitable where so serious a 
 dithculty as that of want of space existed ; he was desired to 
 place an elegant and comfortable mansion on a surface of a 
 little over 200 yards. The plans had been approved by 
 Mademoiselle Rachel on the eve of one of her conges, and the 
 price having been fixed at GO, 000 francs, she left him to exe- 
 cute them. Her tour that year proving veiy productive, she 
 wrote to the friend to whom she had left the charge of over- 
 looking progress, and authorized any additional expense the
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 347 
 
 architect might deem necessary ; the consequence was, the 
 G0,000 francs swelled into 200,000 francs, a price no one 
 would think of giving for the residence. 
 
 The house that had originally stood on this site was of 
 much more simple aspect : Mademoiselle Kachel had occupied 
 it when she removed from No. 10 Rue de Rivoli, celebrated 
 as having been the residence of Mademoiselle Mars before she 
 occupied her own hotel. Hue La Rochefoucault. The predi- 
 lection of Mademoiselle Rachel for this spot aro.'^e from her 
 son Alexandre having been born there ; and though it had 
 only been intended for a temporary residence, she chose to re- 
 main there against the advice of her friends, who suggested 
 the Champs Elysees as far preferable. 
 
 The present building consists in a ground floor, an entresol, 
 a first floor, and attics, and the whole presents a singular con- 
 fusion of all the diflferent styles in architecture. The ground 
 floor, or rez de chaussez, is divided into a vestibule, a porter's 
 lodge, and a little parlor, where admirers not admitted to see 
 the divinity of the temple inscribed their names. The archi- 
 tect was so cramped for room that he put the stables in the 
 cellar. Up a Gothic-arched staircase, as dark as a pocket, 
 and so narrow there is no room for a moderate-sized crinoline, 
 the benighted visitor gropes his way to the entresol, and here 
 the suite of rooms commences. 
 
 An insignificant ante-chamber leads into a dining-room, or- 
 namented and furnished in very questionable taste. The in- 
 tention was that the Etruscan should have prevailed, but it 
 was never carried out. The heterogeneous articles it contain- 
 ed were severally meant to denote archaism and erudition, but 
 seemed rather astonished at being brought together. A wain- 
 scot of the Middle Ages looked down upon a modern carpet ; 
 Greco-Roman paintings and Renaissance bahuts, Etruscan 
 vases and Parisian crystals, were unceremoniously associated. 
 The whole was lighted up by an odd-looking lamp, of no par- 
 ticular age, style, or beauty. The room itself was a sort of 
 narrow passage, with so low a ceiling that a man of ordinary 
 height was inclined to stoop as he entered. 
 
 On the other side of the ante-chamber a door led into a small 
 salon hung in chintz. Among other things, it contained a
 
 348 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 glass-doored piece of furniture filled with knick-knacks, in 
 which large sums had been invested ; every rarity had been 
 collected in this toy-receptacle ; Liliputian statuettes, diminu- 
 tive Chinese monsters, and costly fancies of all sorts were 
 there. Yet, with the exception of a small marble bust of the 
 First Consul, chiseled by Canova, there was not an article in 
 the room that indicated a taste for the truly beautiful. 
 
 The library adjoining the salo7i is, as might be expected, the 
 smallest room in the house. The oak panels, wainscot, &c., 
 are finely carved, but the books, splendidly bound, and each in 
 its place, looking as if it had never been read, gave the room 
 a cold aspect. 
 
 On the first floor are the reception rooms and bed-chambers. 
 
 Two muses — Melpomene and Thalia, exiled in the ante- 
 chamber, seemed to protest against the ungratefulness of the 
 mistress who forgot that without them she never would have 
 had a salo7i. Some excuse for her might have been found in 
 the little artistic beauty of these representatives of tragedy 
 and comedy. 
 
 The Louis XIV. salon was gorgeous and costly, and that 
 was all that could be said in its praise. The curtains were 
 of embroidered cashmere. The chairs and sofas, richly carved 
 and gilt, were covered with crimson silk damask. Each piece 
 bore, carved in a shield, the initial R. ; though there wei-e a 
 number of pieces, the set sold for only 2100 francs — not over 
 half its value. The panels and wainscot were highly gilded. 
 The clock and six candelabra, thougli master-pieces of Den- 
 ieres, only brought 4500 francs. Nothing in this room, so 
 magnificently furnished, spoke of the inner life of the woman 
 — nothing bore the impress of the artiste ; the upholsterer had 
 Avorked busily and lavishly, and the furniture was such as 
 might have been ordered by any rich stock-broker. Nothing 
 wore the stamp of an exceptional and privileged being. There 
 Avas not a bronze, not a marble, not a picture of any value. 
 
 Between the salon and the bed-rooms was the so-called Chi- 
 nese boudoir, a closet some six feet square, and so dark that, 
 until the eye became familiarized w^ith its gloom, it could dis- 
 cern nothing. The scant light admitted through the ceiling 
 was lessened by stained glass that was not at all Chinese.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 349 
 
 The ornaments of this dark closet were four or five Chinese 
 figures and a Pckin lantern. Among these grotesque manda- 
 rins was placed — how appropriately the reader may imagine — 
 a portrait of Kebecca, a lock of her hair in a black frame, and 
 a fine marble bust of Christ, around the throat of which was 
 wound the rosary that has already been mentioned. 
 
 The best bed-chamber was also magnificently gilded. The 
 furniture was Louis XV. and of rosewood, with medallions of 
 Sevres. The superb bed, in marqueterie, adorned with gilt 
 bronze ornaments, the owner had slept in but seldom. It was 
 sold for 1000 francs. 
 
 In one of the rooms hung the portraits of old Madame Fe- 
 lix and her husband, looking as though they were making an 
 estimate of what the box of toys would bring. 
 
 As this is not an auctioneer's catalogue, we shall omit the 
 rooms held of less importance ; one of the latter, however, 
 would have been well worth a chapter to itself, could the his- 
 tory of its contents be faithfully recorded. This was Rose's 
 room. 
 
 In the vestibule of the Theatre Frangais there is always a 
 bust of the reigning power. When a revolution brings about 
 a change, the dethroned majesty is hurried up into the attic, 
 and its place is filled by the image of the new idol. The old 
 busts are not disposed of or destroyed, they are merely kept 
 out of sight ; there is no knowing what may happen, and, in 
 case of a restoration, it might be economical and handy to have 
 the old image all ready. 
 
 It Avas probably with this example before her eyes, and in 
 accordance with the same principle, that the busts and por- 
 traits of intimate friends, after having had their day in the 
 most conspicuous and honorable place in the tragedienne's ele- 
 gant rooms, afterward ascended to the maid's dormitory. Rose 
 had, at last, quite a gallery, of which the history might have 
 afforded us a glance into the hidden recesses of the feminine 
 heart. 
 
 The hotel was to have been sold on the 25th of November, 
 1856, but, at the eleventh hour, M. Emile de Girardin, to 
 whom Rachel had delegated her powers, countermanded it. 
 The numerous puffs had not had the success expected, and as
 
 350 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 the little excitement manifested by the public made it proba- 
 ble no very liberal offers would be made, the speculation was 
 given up for the time. A sale of a portion of the furniture 
 took place in July, 1857, at very low prices. The remainder 
 of the fui-niture was removed to the apartment Mademoiselle 
 Eachel had taken, Place Royale. 
 
 Among the articles sold for much less than their real value 
 were some fine paintings. An authentic Boucher {La Toilette) 
 went for 200 francs. "L'Ecu de France," an original of Eu- 
 gene Isabey, brought but 660 francs. The " Trial of Mary 
 Stuart," a fine composition by* Achille Deveria, was given for 
 705 francs. Two real Diaz, presented by M. Arsene Hous- 
 saye to the trariklienne, were actually allowed to go for 360 
 francs. Two fine paintings, representing " Music and Com- 
 edy," by Natlier, only brought 600 francs. 
 
 A "Virgin and Child," in water-colors, after Van Dyck, 
 by Madame O'Connell, that had cost M. le Comte Leopold 
 Lehon 800 francs, sold for only 350 francs ; " Le Triomphe 
 de Mademoiselle Duclos," by Rigaud, 150 francs only. 
 
 Among the works of art was an exquisite portrait of Adri- 
 enne Lecouvreur, in Beauvais tapestry, a most excellent imi- 
 tation of a fine painting, and which had been a great favorite 
 with the tragedienne, yet she allowed of its being sold for 150 
 francs. Certainly the possessor of millions could know noth- 
 ing of that peremptory need that brings under the hammer the 
 most valued articles, yet these fine pictures, all presents from 
 those who were or had been friends, were allowed to go for 
 prices infinitely below their value, as though the owner found 
 herself reduced to the utmost penury. 
 
 When the hotel of the Rue Trudon was built, some ten 
 years ago, the next thing was to furnish it suitably. Her- 
 mione said to her friends, " Contribute something to tlie adorn- 
 ing of my little hotel — a trifle, a souvenir.'''' Every one hast- 
 ened to prove his taste or his liberality ; one sent a china vase, 
 another a statuette, another a painting, &c., &c. 
 
 Had these friends chosen, they might have bought back 
 their valued and valuable souvenirs at public auction. These 
 various contributions were estimated at 300,000 francs. 
 
 When the hotel was first announced for sale, several hund-
 
 MEMOIRS OF KACHEL. 351 
 
 reels of persons daily visited it. Those who manifested the 
 greatest curiosity to see the inmost recesses of the muse's pri- 
 vate dwelling were foreigners, who were not aware that tickets 
 to view were to be had on application to M. Lemonnyer, the 
 notary. Some ingenious speculator, having procured a num- 
 ber of these tickets, repaired to the hotels most frequented by 
 strangers, and offered them at prices varying according to the 
 dupe, from 2 francs to 20 francs, at the same time volunteer- 
 ing his services as cicerone. An American was firmly con- 
 vinced he had seen the portraits of Talma and INIademoiselle 
 Mars, painted by David, the likeness of Father and Mother 
 Felix having been dubbed with these illustrious names by his 
 guide. Another enthusiastic gentleman offered an additional 
 louis to be allowed a sight of the historical guitar. 
 
 Mademoiselle Eachel had left France on her way to Egypt 
 on the 2d of October. The following letter to her son, dated 
 from Cairo, the 18th of the same month, is interesting, not 
 only from the maternal feeling that dictated it, but also from 
 the particulars it contains. 
 
 " Dear little Oxe, — My health seems improving, for I 
 have already acquired some strength, and my appetite is tol- 
 erably good. I am settled as comfortably here as it is possi- 
 ble to be in Egypt. There are in Cairo two hotels, and I am 
 in the best. The bed-room, which has a southern aspect, is 
 as large as one of your school dortoirs, with a ceiling propor- 
 tionally high, so that, although it is very warm here, there is 
 no lack of air. The table is veiy good. The cook, who is a 
 Frenchwoman, in consideration of our being countrywomen, 
 gets up little extra-nice dishes for us. I have already taken 
 short walks in the town and in the environs ; it is a very rich, 
 curious, and interesting country. I hope you will some day 
 visit it, and that God will permit me to be your cicerone — that 
 is, your faithful guide. 
 
 "More than ever do I congratulate myself of being a g?--?-- 
 r-rande tragedienne. Every one we meet is ready to oblige, to 
 serve, and to procure us amusements. Ever since I left Mar- 
 seilles I have everywhere met with the most maternal hos- 
 pitality.
 
 352 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 " Your aunt* is very well : she laughs, she sings, she would 
 dance to make me smile, and that is not always easy, for I 
 am often thinking that I am far from my dear little ones. It 
 is true that I find some comfort in the thought that I am a 
 voluntary exile for a few months, in order that I may return 
 to my children strong and healthy, to leave them no more. 
 
 " I have just made an effort to write you so long a letter, 
 for writing fiitigues and agitates me — two things strictly pro- 
 hibited by the physicians. I can, therefore, write to no one 
 else by this mail. 
 
 " I hope you will prove your gratitude by writing me a 
 long letter. Tell me all your thoughts, and all the news, if 
 you know of any, for we can get no papers here. 
 
 " I shall write to my dear parents by the next boat. Thei'e 
 was an earthquake in Alexandria while we were there. There 
 was no harm done, but it made a great impression upon me. 
 It is a sublime horror. In Cairo there were several acci- 
 dents. I must now bid you good-by, inclosing a thousand 
 kisses." 
 
 This letter is charming from its simplicity ; it was evidently 
 written by the mother herself, and bears no resemblance to 
 those written for her by her too numerous secretaries. 
 
 We have also in the above epistle a very amiable and doubt- 
 less correct picture of Sarah's endeavors to cheer her invalid 
 sister. Malicious telltales have asserted that this entente cor- 
 diale did not last long, and that the absence of this kind, laugh- 
 in"-, sino'ing; sister soon became the most ardent wish of the 
 tragedienne. Apropos of this, the following little anecdote went 
 the rounds. We give it as we find it in one of the periodicals 
 of that day, without at all warranting its authenticity : 
 
 " Sad news from our great tragedienne : she suffers from two 
 evils — bronchitis and her sister Sarah. Deeming the imme- 
 diate removal of the greater evil might ameliorate her condi- 
 tion, and afford her a better chance for future relief from both, 
 she expressed a wish that Mademoiselle Sarah would go to 
 Paris in order to make some purchases there. Her motive 
 was understood. 
 
 ♦ Mademoiselle Sarah.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 353 
 
 " ' I'll ne'er forsake thee,' was the reply of the devoted ty- 
 rant, 'unless I get 20,000 francs to comfort me under the af- 
 fliction the separation will cause me.' 
 
 " Kachel thought the grief might be assuaged with less: 
 Sarah Avas inflexible. 
 
 " ' Haven't I forsaken America — refused a splendid engage- 
 ment? Was I not to have married a youth, handsome, 
 wealthy, of noble birth, a descendant of Washington, who was 
 to have acted the Crisjnus at the Odeon ? All these have I 
 slighted for thy sake ; sure 20,000 francs were but poor com- 
 pensation for the sacrifice of such advantages !' 
 
 "'You're killing me,' cried poor Rachel; 'take 15,000 
 francs.' 
 
 " ' 20,000 francs or dea-a-a-ath,' sternly replies Sarah. The 
 result is not yet known." 
 
 Sarah's temper was too irritable to qualify her for a com- 
 panion to an invalid, and she was not perhaps able to keep 
 that curb upon it long which immediate danger had rendered 
 necessary. Symptoms of returning health in one sister brought 
 symptoms of returning violence in the other. 
 
 Numerous were the anecdotes for which the well-known 
 peculiarities of Rachel's elder sister afforded some foundation. 
 It is not likely that the pui'veyors of the daily press were very 
 scrupulous as to the veracity of the sayings and doings they 
 recorded of Mademoiselle Sarah. They probably often made 
 their readers merry at her expense with stories entii-ely of 
 their own invention. Pier short sojourn in America after the 
 departure of the other members of the company furnished 
 matter for innumerable absurd reports, among which that of 
 the approaching nuptials with the descendant of Washington 
 was not the least laughable, being, moreover, firmly believed 
 by many envious of the bride's good luck. 
 
 Though apparently exclusively preoccupied with the care 
 of her health, she could not quite forget that of her pecuniary 
 interests. She remembered that as a societaire of the Theatre 
 Fran9ais she was entitled to her full salary during her illness 
 just as much as when in active service, and she wrote to pre- 
 fer her claim. The demand was preposterous, and, had it 
 been put forward by any one else, would have been laughed
 
 354 ^lEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 ai. But the committee was accustomed to the exactions of 
 this despotic queen ; they knew, moreover, that their own de- 
 liberation was a mere matter of form. She placed no depend- 
 ence on the issue if left to their decision : she had more faith 
 iu her intiuence in higher quarters than >vith the comrades 
 whom the grant of her claim would despoil of their earnings 
 to defray her expenses while idle. 
 
 The salary of a societaire amounted to 12,000 francs yearly. 
 Mademoiselle Eachel received 42.000 fi-ancs for nine months, 
 during which, indeed, she seldom averaged over three of actual 
 service, and this large sum was allotted her in consideration 
 of the superiority of her talent and of its favorable influence 
 on the receipts of the house. This influence, however, could 
 not be alleged to be exercised during her sojourn in her conge 
 on the Nile. 
 
 The plea of past services was also subject to discussion. 
 She had undoubtedly done good service to the cause of art, but 
 that she had, as she asserted, made the fortune of the theatre, 
 was contradicted by the unanswerable eloquence of figures. 
 The ten performances given by her in one month produced 
 some 40,000 francs, but, on the other hand, she entailed num- 
 berless expenses and disadvantages on the theatre. The ex- 
 clusive attention of the public being wholly engrossed by the 
 great artiste, reacted woefuUy on the nights she did not play; 
 everv thing that was not connected with her was looked upon 
 with little favor ; a natural result of this was the discourage- 
 ment of every other representative of tragic art ; the confu- 
 sion and dissensions her despotism occasioned in the manage- 
 ment, her capricious entrees and sorties ; her brother, her sis- 
 ters, forced on the committee ; her lawsuits, her fi-ee boxes 
 and seats, her dressing-room, her costumes, were heav}' charges 
 to be deducted from the benefits, and somewhat counterbal- 
 anced the receipts her presence brought into the treasury. 
 
 Mademoiselle Eachel returned to France at the end of May, 
 
 1857. 
 
 On board the steamer that was bringing her from Egypt 
 there was a missionary bishop, Monseigneur Guillamum, with 
 whom she frequently conversed. Rachel had at all times the 
 most fascinating, winning manners, and now, to a man of that
 
 >rEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 355 
 
 sacred chai'acter, the shadow of death within which he saw 
 her stand must ha%-e invested her with a deeper interest. 
 
 When the boat stopped at Malta, the prelate took the op- 
 portunity to say mass in the Church of St. .John in behalf of 
 her who was on the brink of eternity. The object of his so- 
 licitude, having known of his pious intention, repaired to the 
 church and heard him officiate. 
 
 In his conversations the prelate anxiously exhorted her to 
 alter her course, and, instead of re-entering France, to proceed 
 to Rome and be baptized by the Holy leather. To this she 
 objected on the score of not being prepared to become a con- 
 vert ; '• besides," said she, after a few moments' hesitation, 
 '•' people would say I was playing a part, and that it was done 
 for effect ; I can not." 
 
 She spent a part of the summer in the environs of Montpel- 
 lier. While there it was probable that her thoughts recurred 
 more than once to the poor recluse whom she had visited in 
 the prison of that city ten years before, and whose impending 
 fate she had then so eloquently lamented. She, too, the once 
 gay and brilliant favoiite of Fortune, whom the sad, proud 
 captive had probably then gazed upon with envy as well as 
 admiration, was herself dying of thaf dreadful disease that had 
 inspired her with such horror and commiseration, and to 
 which she would have deemed sudden death by a '-'ball in 
 the chest or a tile on the head some windy day far prefera- 
 ble I" She too was hastening to that unknown land whither 
 the weary, worn, and vexed spirit of her she had so pitied, 
 and the young, buoyant, and light-hearted sister she had so 
 loved, had preceded her. 
 
 Her son Alexandre being on the point of going -with his tu- 
 tor to Geneva, where he was to finish his studies, Rachel hast- 
 ened back to Paris on the night of the 23d of June. Such 
 was her anxiety to embrace her child, that, weak and ill as 
 she was, she would not consent to stop on the way, but came 
 directly through. 
 
 Of Rachel's two boys, the eldest, Alexandre, who has been 
 acknowledged by his father, a well-kno^^Ti diplomate, was a 
 very handsome child when quite young. But, as he grew up, 
 this very beauty, derived from his close resemblance to his
 
 356 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 mother, became less suitable to his sex. The features and 
 figure are so delicate, small, and feminine, that they lack 
 character, and AviU give an insignificant appearance to the 
 man. 
 
 Gabriel, the youngest child, was, -when a baby, as plain as 
 his brother was handsome, and for some little while consider- 
 ed an unwelcome addition to the family. Some one asking 
 Eachel what she thought the second son would be, " His 
 brother's coachman," was the reply. 
 
 This apparently unfeeling remark was probably made rather 
 because she would not lose the opportunity of saying what she 
 considered a smart thing, than because she thought it, as she 
 afterward proved herself a kind mother to both her children. 
 
 She had allowed the elder child to be the godfather of the 
 younger, and this added link between the boys has given to 
 the affection of Alexandre a character of paternal solicitude, 
 that manifests itself in the most charming and graceful man- 
 ner on every occasion where his little brother seems to require 
 his assistance or protection. He considers himself his broth- 
 er's guardian. Unfortunately, the elder has inherited his 
 mother's delicacy of constitution as well as her features. 
 
 Gabriel, who at first \^s clumsy in shape, and whose heavy 
 features promised no beauty, is becoming a very good-looking 
 boy ; years are developing a fine athletic form, handsome 
 limbs, and an intelligent countenance. 
 
 The children Avere, on account of the frequent absence of 
 the mother, under the exclusive care and surveillance of their 
 grandmother until the elder was taken charge of by his father. 
 Both were placed at the best schools, and no expense was 
 spared in their education. But in other respects the greatest 
 economy was observed ; in all that concerned their dress, par- 
 simony was carried to the utmost limits. Every article, by 
 mending, patching, cleaning, turning, and dyeing, was made 
 to last to the farthest verge of respectability. In a letter 
 written to his mother, who was then in America, the elder 
 lad said, "For all I keep telling gi-andmamma over and over 
 again that you are to bring home 1,200,000 francs, she won't 
 give me a new suit of clothes, and I have to wear the same 
 shabby one."
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 357 
 
 It appears that the mother granted the wish, for some little 
 while after, and at the time her cold fastened upon her, she 
 jestingly alluded to the above passage in one of her own let- 
 ters to the child : " You see, my dear, how imprudent it was 
 in me to go to the expense of 250 francs for your new suit. I 
 have been taken ill, and now good-by to the 1,200,000 francs." 
 
 The elder lad was old enough to understand the dangerous 
 nature of his mother's illness, and manifested the most anxious 
 solicitude to have correct information on the subject of her 
 health. 
 
 Fearing the truth might be kept from him by his grand- 
 mother and aunts — he was probably aware of their system of 
 negation on that subject — he would write to the faithful Rose, 
 adjuring her to tell him exactly how his dear mamma was. 
 
 The love of change that had actuated her throughout her 
 life caused her to choose a new residence in Paris when she 
 returned from Egypt, although her hotel, Rue Trudon, and its 
 contents were yet unsold. Her new apartments. No. 9 Place 
 Roj^al, were much more spacious than those of her own hotel, 
 and she half-jestingly, half-sadly remarked that " there would 
 be plenty of room for those who chose to attend her funeral." 
 Her mournful prevision was not justified by the event ; for, 
 with the exception of the palaces and public edifices, no build- 
 ing in Paris would have been spacious enough for the crowd 
 that followed her remains to their last resting-place. 
 
 The hotel in the Place Royal had once pertained to the 
 ancient family of Nicolai, and had been inhabited by eminent 
 magistrates and venerable chancellors, one of whom was the 
 President Nicolai, the tutor of Voltaire. This had also been 
 the last residence in Paris of the poet Victor Hugo.
 
 358' MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXni, 
 
 1857. 
 
 Concealment of Illness. — Bulletins of Health read on the Stage. — Mole. 
 — Nicolet's Monkey-Actors. — Departure for Cannet. — Melancholy 
 Pilgrimage. — Cannes. — Villa at Cannet. — The Dream. — Variations 
 in Health and Spirits. — Farandoles. — Sister Sarah. — Raphael and 
 the Cross. — Last Autograph. — Hebrew Prayer. — Death. — Funeral. 
 
 The state of the tragedienne^ s health prohibiting her remain- 
 ing in Paris during the winter, Cannet was the residence se- 
 lected by her medical advisers. 
 
 A singular circumstance connected with the illness of Ra- 
 chel was the doubt so long entertained by the public as to its 
 dangerous nature. This proceeded not only from a long ex- 
 perience of her propensity to feign illness, but also from the 
 care with which her relatives concealed the real state of her 
 health. When her indispositions were for her own conven- 
 ience, those around her proclaimed them ; when there was 
 real cause for alarm, they were no less anxious to conceal it. 
 Rachel's influence was indispensable to her numerous hangers- 
 on ; so long as she lived, there was a prestige attached to all 
 belonging to her, and that prestige was increased or lessened 
 as the danger of losing her became more or less imminent. 
 
 A witty journaliste, referring to the position of Rachel in 
 her own family, and to the degree of dramatic talent possessed 
 by some of the other members of it, said he was reminded of 
 a dilettanti hahitue of the Opera, who, during the overture of 
 " Robert le Diable," beat the time very assiduously. His 
 neighbor in the next stall, seeing this philharmonic enthusiasm, 
 and deeming that he might possibly have the honor of touch- 
 ing the elbow of Meyerbeer himself, at last ventured to say, 
 "You are a musician, sir?" 
 
 " Not exactly ; but I have a brother who owns a musical 
 snuff-box!" In the Felix family, added the narrator. Made- 
 moiselle Rachel was the owner of the musical snuff'-box, and 
 its name was Fm Tragedie.
 
 MEMOIKS OF RACHEL. 359 
 
 Rachel herself did not scruple to jest on the manner in 
 which she was exploitce for the general benefit of her kith and 
 kin, and most willingly permitted of it. Some one remon- 
 strating witli her on the occasion of her American trip, she 
 laughingly replied, " Kaphael is the wandering Jew, and I 
 am his five sons." 
 
 Madame Felix, accompanied by a young relative, was met 
 on the Boulevards within a day or two of her daughter's death 
 by a person who inquired how the tragedienne was. The young 
 relative was thoughtlessly replying that the last news was 
 very bad, and that little hope remained, when the elder lady, 
 hastily interrupting her, said it w^as quite a mistake ; Eachel 
 was much better ! 
 
 During the last century, when any favorite of the theatre- 
 going public was ill, it was customary for one of his or her 
 comrades to give the bulletin of the absent one's health to the 
 audience every evening. On such occasions the spectators 
 frequently testified an interest highly flattering to its object. 
 Sometimes, however, these tokens of sympathy were so ex- 
 aggerated that they excited the ridicule of less passionate ad- 
 mirers. Thus, when Mole', the celebrated comedian, was kept 
 from the stage by a severe and protracted illness, the report 
 of his physician, which w^as read nightly, drew from the audi- 
 ence, and more especially from the feminine portion of it, the 
 most absurd demonstrations of feeling. 
 
 That thei'e is but a step from the sublime to the ridiculous is 
 most frequently exemplified in France, where criticism is ever 
 on the alert, and humor always in search of a subject. Nic- 
 olet, the manager of the little house now* known as the The'atre 
 de la Gaiete, parodied the scenes of silly enthusiasm that took 
 place at the Theatre Fran(;^ais by giving nightly bulletins of the 
 health of one of his best actors, a favorite monkey then ill. 
 
 The public of the present day carry to such an extreme the 
 love of fun and the propensity to criticism, that it Avas quite 
 as well, perhaps, tliat no attempt was made to revive the old 
 custom on the occasion of the tragedienne's illness. 
 
 The 15th of September was the day fixed for her departure. 
 There are in our lives solemn and decisive moments, when the 
 veil that conceals futurity is drawn aside, and our souls are
 
 360 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 permitted a glance into the arcana of fate. We are filled with 
 vague instincts, with secret aspirations which we can not ac- 
 count for then, but of which the mystery is solved by subse- 
 quent events. At times, for an absence we design shall be but 
 temporary only, we dwell on the farewell as though we were 
 conscious the parting was to be eternal ; at others we are tor- 
 mented by an irresistible longing to revisit places toward which 
 some superhuman power impels us. Eaehel was under the 
 influence of some such occult and inexplicable inspiration 
 during the night that preceded her departure for the south of 
 France. Her sleep was of short duration ; and although 
 nothing required she should rise early, tormented by an anx- 
 ious wish to see once more a spot associated with the most 
 memorable events of her life, she was dressed long before the 
 dawning of the tardy autumnal day. To those who remon- 
 strated on her early rising, she peremptorily replied she had a 
 pilgrimage to perform before she left Paris, and that her fam- 
 ily could meet and take leave of her at the station. 
 
 From her residence in the Place Eoyale, which she was 
 never to re-enter alive, she drove, passing by the Gymnase, 
 to the Theatre Fran^ais, and, ordering the can-iage to stop 
 before it, remained long gazing at the house that had been 
 the scene of her first debiits and of fifteen of the most brilliant 
 years of her career. God only knows what her reflections 
 were, as, mute and absorbed in thought, she contemplated the 
 doors which she had entered poor, timid, and unknown, to 
 leave rich, proud, and celebrated. When first she had crossed 
 yon threshold she possessed none of Fortune's gifts, but she 
 was full of hope — of life ; now she was rich in all the world 
 prizes, but her cup of life was nearly empty, and, for her hopes, 
 they were faint indeed. 
 
 A friend at last roused her from the meditations in which, 
 regardless of the hour, she was indulging, and hurried her oflP. 
 She leaned her head out of the window as long as the build- 
 ins remained in sijrht. When she reached the station she 
 spoke but little, bidding, with a sad smile only, what proved 
 to many of the friends assembled there a last adieu. She was 
 carried in a chair from the station to the railway carriage, 
 for she was no longer able to walk.
 
 MEMOIRS 01" KACHEL. 361 
 
 Cannes, a small town of the Department du Ver, is, or 
 rather should be, the Nice of France, If England owned a 
 spot so prodigally endowed with all the advantages Nature 
 can bestow, a beautiful town would long ago have been built 
 on those smiling margins. 
 
 C'annes, situated in a recess of one of the most charming 
 bays of the Mediterranean, and sheltered by the surrounding 
 highlands, is a sort of natural conservatory where reigns a 
 perpetual spring, and where the most delicate valetudinarians 
 find, during the severest winters, a sky ever clear and mild, a 
 balmy atmosphere, and the perpetual emanations of flower- 
 covered fields. Flowers are cultivated . in that district as 
 grain and fodder are elsewhere, and fields of violets, of roses, 
 of heliotropes, instead of wheat, oats, and clover, supply a 
 large proportion of the perfumery used in both hemispheres. 
 The Isles of St. Margueritte, which it might not be impossible 
 to unite with each other by means of a dike, close the entrance 
 to the Bay of Cannes, and protect it against storms. The 
 railway of Toulon to Nice, which touches at Cannes, and 
 makes it easy of access, vnW, in all probability, give to this 
 privileged town the development to which it is in so many 
 respects entitled. 
 
 At the present day, however, Cannes of itself offers but few 
 comforts and attractions to strangers. Those who visit it are 
 drawn thither by the pretty villas built in the adjoining val- 
 leys, or on the charming heights that surround it, by foreign 
 residents. Lord Brougham has for many years owned a de- 
 lightful residence here, and the picturesque and splendid cha- 
 teau of Lord Lowndesborough is worthy of note. 
 
 It is only in a villa that any thing like comfort can be ob- 
 tained by an invalid, but it is veiy difficult to procure one, as 
 the owners have built them for their own use, and usually reside 
 in them with their families. It is seldom that one can be rented. 
 
 The retreat that sheltered Rachel's last days was not in 
 Cannes, but in Cannet, a little village in the environs, of very 
 difficult access. The road to it is from Cannes, and so ex- 
 tremely steep and rugged that at one point it is altogether 
 impracticable to carriages and horses. The visitor to the 
 villa of M. Sardou, where Rachel received so generous a hos- 
 
 Q
 
 362 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 pitalitj, is obliged to walk or be carried through the ravines 
 and valleys which forbid its approach, and when he has reached 
 the goal, he finds that difficulties of another nature are yet to 
 be surmounted before he can enter it. 
 
 The house, spacious, beautifully situated in an orange grove, 
 and well guarded from the wind, is singularly constructed. 
 The main building has no staircase, consequently the door af- 
 fords an entrance to the ground floor only. To reach the 
 upper story one must enter the left-hand turret, ascend the 
 stairs to the second floor, cross a bridge connecting with anoth- 
 er turret, descend one pair of stairs in that turret, and cross 
 another bridge, which finally leads into the upper stories of 
 the house itself. 
 
 The owner of this pretty villa, M. Sardou, formerly of the 
 Grand Opera, placed it at Mademoiselle Rachel's disposal, posi- 
 tively refusing any remuneration, while M. Mario Nechai'd, 
 the author of "La Fiammina," by whom it was then inhabited, 
 as courteously gave it up to her. No more favorable situation 
 could possibly have been chosen, and the interior of the house 
 was fitted up in a style that boi'e witness to the owner's taste 
 for the fine arts. 
 
 M. Sardou had been the intimate friend of the sculptor 
 David (of Anglers), and many of that artist's works ornament- 
 ed the rooms. In the best chamber — a spacious one, with 
 high, snow-white walls, adorned with friezes and sculptures 
 in the antique style — the bedstead was also white, and seemed 
 carved of stone. At the foot of the bed was a statue of the 
 Grecian Polhymnia, wearing on its marble features an ex- 
 pression of intense sadness ; attired in long, sweeping robes, 
 that had a funereal aspect, she leaned on a pedestal that re- 
 sembled a tombstone. This figure, which gave the beholder 
 the idea of a mourner sorrowing over a grave, made so pain- 
 ful an impression that it was immediately removed. 
 
 But as in the life of every great public character there must 
 always be some remarkable prediction or wonderful dream 
 shadowing forth the coming event previous to some great 
 crisis, the following is said to have occasioned the horror with 
 which the first sight of her dormitory at Cannet filled the mind 
 of the tragedienne.
 
 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 363 
 
 After the performance on the 8th of July, 1852, before an 
 audience of kings and princes, who had admired and compli- 
 mented her to her heart's content, she had retired to bed in a 
 state of feverish excitement. 
 
 That night she had a fearful dream. 
 
 A giant's hand, burning like fire, heavy as lead, covered her 
 chest, crushing it despite all her efforts to rid herself of the 
 dreadful weight. She dreamed that, awaking with the excru- 
 ciating pain, she found herself in a room that was not the one 
 she had retired to, in a bed that was not the one she had fallen 
 asleep in ; the room was spacious, its tall walls were white, 
 and near the bed was a prie-dieu of white marble, over which 
 hung a marble figure. 
 
 A voice that seemed to belong to the invisible body under 
 whose visible hands she was writhing uttered several times 
 these words : " Thou shalt die here under my hand ! thou 
 shalt die here under my hand!" 
 
 The aspect of the chamber at the Villa Sardou was certainly 
 sufficient to convey a melancholy impression to one so ill, and 
 no dream was needed to account for it. 
 
 Her health continued for some time to fluctuate capricious- 
 ly, but during these alternations she daily Avaxed Aveaker. 
 One day she would declare herself much better, the next she 
 would be in a state of complete prostration. These physical 
 variations necessarily reacted on the nerves, and her humor 
 varied accordingly. 
 
 In the beginning, and while she could still find energy for 
 any kind of employment, she would beguile time doing such 
 work as required no particular attention or nicety, and con- 
 stantly desired Rose to give her "more towels to hem." 
 
 When she felt able she received a few friends, and, when 
 forbidden to speak, listened to their chat or played at cards, 
 always her favorite pastime. 
 
 One day, when she was in the enjoyment of one of those 
 occasional moments of " feeling quite well again," with which 
 treacherous consumption deludes the victims it has irretriev- 
 ably condemned — gleams of sunshine that render the succeed- 
 ins; "loom more terrible — she manifested a desire to go down 
 
 &^ 
 
 into the garden. She was immediately carried there, and the
 
 364 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 peasants of the neighborhood having assembled, danced for 
 her amusement their Proven9al dances, called Ferandoles. But 
 poor Rachel was sustained but by a momentary and feverish 
 excitement ; her spirits fell as rapidly as they had risen ; she 
 could not bear even these innocent amusements long; a spasm 
 came on that put an end to the improvised fete, and the actors 
 stole off like the performers in a comic opera scene, with hush- 
 '^d tread and finger on lip, astonished, fi'ightened, and sad- 
 dened. 
 
 During her sojourn at Cannet Rachel was attended by M. 
 Maure, former representative in both assemblies of the Repub- 
 lic, and a nephew of the eloquent conventionalist Isnard. The 
 medical talent of M. Maure was thought much of in all Pro- 
 vence, but when the danger increased her own physician was 
 sent for from Paris ; human skill was, however, powerless ; the 
 disease was too deeply rooted. 
 
 Her desire to live was intense ; the nearer she approached 
 to death, the more despairingly she clung to the life that was 
 escaping her. Her docility to her physicians was implicit ; 
 she followed to the letter every prescription, obeyed every 
 hint, asking but to live — to live — to live ! 
 
 Her sufferings were extreme, and she must have often thought 
 of her sister Rebecca's exclamation under similar circumstan- 
 ces: "Oh God, must one suffer thus to die!" 
 
 The tragedienne endured patiently, sustained by the hope 
 that she would survive all pain, and she had every consola- 
 tion that friendship could bring, every comfort that wealth 
 could purchase. Her sister Sarah never left her for a moment ; 
 and, as we have already said, although the creature of im- 
 pulse, and ungovernable in her fits of passion, whenever there 
 was imminent danger she was extremely kind and attentive. 
 Sarah was the only member of her father's family present 
 when the last sad hour came. 
 
 The tie between Rachel and Sarah was closer than that 
 which bound them to the other sisters. Between these two 
 there was less distance of time ; they had known poverty and 
 want together, they had grown up in evil days, of which Leah, 
 and more especially Dinah, had little remembrance. There 
 were, perhaps, other and far more serious motives on Rachel's
 
 MEMOIRS OP RACHEL. 365 
 
 side for the preference shown for Sarah, in whose friendship 
 she had trusted on occasions of difficulty and danger. 
 
 Rebecca had at one time been the favorite sister of the tra- 
 gedienne, but when she died there was too great a disparity 
 of age to permit of either of the otlier girls taking her place. 
 
 Raphael, being the only brother, was naturally a favorite, 
 but Rachel especially was always disposed to tx'eat him with 
 unbounded indulgence. An anecdote, related by herself, proves 
 that in early childhood she exercised no small degree of influ- 
 ence over him. 
 
 Little Rachel had seen, among the paltry gewgaws, gilt 
 chains, pinchbeck rings, necklaces, &c., exposed for sale in 
 open cases by a neighbor, a trinket she coveted exceedingly — 
 the article that had so much attracted the notice of the child 
 of Israel was, strange to say, a cross ! Without, perhaps, any 
 very definite idea of the difference between meimi and tuian, 
 but actuated by the impulse that has led many better-schooled 
 and higher-born children, she commissioned her little brother 
 to steal this cross. The proprietor of the desecrated symbol, 
 having found out who was the thief, carried his complaint to 
 the parents, who were very indignant. The charge being 
 clearly made out, condign punishment was administered to the 
 culprit. Though very severely beaten, the boy maintained a 
 Spartan silence with regard to his accomplice, never attempt- 
 ing to plead the extenuating circumstance of having operated 
 for another. As for Rachel, she used to say she never would 
 forget her feelings when she saw her little brother hauled about 
 by the hair and whipped for doing her bidding. Fright, how- 
 ever, left no room for magnanimity, and she did not confess 
 her participation in the sin, but she learned a lesson that was 
 of no small value — she was taught the consequences of steal- 
 ing, and what another child acquires with years she did in an 
 hour. She was wont to remark that, when very young, the 
 propensity to steal was very strong in her, but that this inci- 
 dent had effectually cured her. 
 
 She had a great passion for gambling, and, when surround- 
 ed by her family and intimate friends, was always getting up 
 some game, even if it was but the child's play of loto. She 
 was not very scrupulous in her play, cheating whenever she
 
 366 ' MEMOIRS OF RACHEI,. 
 
 got a chance, perfectly delighted when she won a few francs, 
 and quite out of temper if she lost insignificant sums. Yet, 
 after manifesting the utmost vexation and ill-humor because 
 she had lost a few francs, if Raphael came in with some plau- 
 sible reason for wanting a couple of thousand, she would give 
 them without hesitation. 
 
 During her last illness her children were with her, the eld- 
 est accompanied by his tutor, and the youngest having been 
 sent fi-om his college of St. Barbe, at her request, to stay with 
 her. 
 
 Her mother was not with her when she died, though she 
 had remained with her some time previous to the last mo- 
 ments. Rachel, actuated by the capricious impulse which 
 sometimes led her to do the most unexplainable things, insist- 
 ed peremptorily, a few days before her death, that Madame 
 Felix should return to Paris and attend to some business for 
 her. She seemed, indeed, to wish all her relatives away, with 
 the exception of Sarah. 
 
 Nor were those who had been friends and admirers of the 
 gay and brilliant tragedienne forgetful of her when, wasted by 
 disease and saddened by the prospect of approaching dissolu- 
 tion, she could no longer minister to their amusement or grati- 
 fy their vanity. Prince Napoleon, when at Marseilles, made 
 an excursion to Cannet and visited the poor invalid, who was 
 deeply moved by this proof of his imperial highness's kind re- 
 membrance. She could no longer sit up, but the wish to ap- 
 pear to advantage still ruled the heart whose beats were num- 
 bered. To receive the visit with which she was to be honor- 
 ed she had caused herself to be dressed in an elegant quilted 
 white silk j^^ignoi)' ; a profusion of rich lace concealed the 
 emaciated rueck and wrists, and a pretty morning cap shaded 
 the pale cheeks. 
 
 Another kind heart, whose sympathy she had less reason 
 to expect, M. Legouve, the poet, with whom she had had the 
 lawsuit in 1853, hastened from Paris expressly to offer her 
 this last proof of friendship. The breach, ajirojws of" Medee," 
 had recently been made up. A short time before her death 
 Rachel had dictated a charming letter to the poet, in answer 
 to which he had gone to see her. He arrived within four
 
 MEMOius OF KAcinii- ;i(;T 
 
 days of the one that proved her last, and when no one could 
 be admitted. 
 
 After having clung so despairingly to life, as the term ap- 
 proached she would at times speak of it calmly, though in 
 reality her hopes were never quite extinguished. A week 
 before her death she admitted a stranger of distinction to sec 
 her, and seemed gratified with the sympathy he expressed. 
 To the never-failing request for her autogi-aph, she replied, 
 " Ah ! you do well to ask for it now ; it will soon be too 
 late." She then wrote on a sheet of paper, " In a week from 
 now I shall begin to be food for worms, and for writers of 
 biographies. Eachel." 
 
 The visitor, shocked at so sinister an anticipation, wished 
 to decline the autograph, but she pushed it toward hira, say- 
 ing, " Take it, take it ; it will, perhaps, be the last thing 1 
 shall ever write." 
 
 On the 2 2d of December she did write, though with great 
 difficulty, a letter to a veiy distinguished personage, and dated 
 it January 1st, 1858, accounting for her so dojng in these 
 Avords :'' I post-date this letter. * * * * I feel as though 
 the doing so will make me live till then." And she did out- 
 live her date, though but for three days. 
 
 From a letter written to M. Sardou, the proprietor of the 
 house in which she died, by a friend who was present, we box'- 
 row the following interesting account of her last moments : 
 
 " I had felt the approach of the fatal event on Friday, Jan- 
 uary 1, when we exchanged the compliments of the New Year. 
 Rachel embraced us with so much feeling it was evident that 
 in her own mind she anticipated the eternal adieux. Doctor 
 Bergonier had, however, assured me we might yet expect life 
 would be prolonged a few days. 
 
 "On Saturday nothing particular occurred. Rachel re- 
 mained, as usual, plunged in a sort of stupor, the effect of ex- 
 cessive debility, and from which she was now, at intervals, 
 roused by fits of excessive pain, after which she would again 
 fall asleep. Toward midnigl.t she awoke quite calm, as though 
 out of a long sleep, and chatted familiarly with those around 
 her bed. She desired to write to her father, but had not 
 strength to finish. The letter she was dictating contained her
 
 368 yuEaaxKS or gAi-^n . 
 
 la^ i^e^ioest^ hssA xiaSsmt ^p^ans cf pain oompdikal Im- to ce&se 
 ^js-feELetiEEsex Site romamed in a state of coD^ete proetantioa. 
 and wMi. infinite tzonble was made to svraDow a fittle suste- 
 nance SnoosL txnie to tune. 
 
 ^ A& eleven o''«$?<?& mt Sundae^ moming the es^pedtarx&m 
 bad Iteeeme sz> '. . sluat it uras &aied ^le would choke : 
 
 am nne^ieec r xdtieTed her, cafan soceeeded to 
 
 tHiiis eiaa:5. -- ! a wi^ to finish -flie ktter 
 
 to-hfar :fejLi-ir. .'^_- _.;..-..- .. :.-f end, lead it^ aQ over, and 
 then essSsi!!^y?^~ 
 
 '^'ily '-::.- - : :. lamgoii^to see thee! 
 
 Siii:-:.?.z/- ; " , . -.and 
 
 - - : . ■ • - " ine CooasMHv , :' >'; : r, 
 
 -_..:„ :_._;.v.. - -. ^.r" andwone::. 
 
 :.".':■'-■"' _ ' 7 ■ -^ '-. HI; infanc-^ ■ 
 
 -■:i:; :-^ - - - ---; ..em she 
 
 - 1 : •: _7t:: ._: ten o'doek thoe w&f 
 
 M like tl . : _ i_ : .:._. -^ ...ch alarmed all dr .-r. 
 
 1" "--'-"-- ' ''.V ':v5((j and -flue men' ■::> :z 
 
 • ~ " -^ "Taen and an " ■ r. 
 
 toward the silvers. 
 
 -•'t nr- 50' ttEue© ; feireak : : ..: Madlier to dnstt^ andsntf- 
 
 3 of Badbd %emed iDinmiied bj oek^tlal 
 
 jOSltmiKQ * 
 
 u c ' 
 
 ■ - 1^ — • -'■. T&e, lajrd Idsbs le^Bed^ ifloe ieHrd win ragn
 
 ME3I0IRS OB' RACHEL. 369 
 
 " ' The Eternal One is Grod ! (seven limes). 
 
 " 'Listen, Israel, 'the Eternal, onr God, the Eternal is one. 
 
 " ' Go, then, whither the Lord callcth thee. Go, and mav His mercy 
 assist thee. May the Eternal, our God, be with thee ; may His immor- 
 tal angels guide thee to heaven, and may the righteous rejoice when 
 th(; Lord receiveth thee ia His bosom ! 
 
 " 'God of otir fathers, revive in Thy mercy this soul that goeth to 
 Thee ; unite it to those of the holy patriarchs, amid the eternal joys of 
 the heavenly Paradise ! Amen.' 
 
 " Rachel pressed Sarah's hand, and expired with a smile 
 upon her lips. 
 
 " And the singers said, 
 
 " 'Blessed be the Judge of Truth I' 
 
 "All present were moved bv the tokens of heavenly grace 
 Rachel had manifested. It can not be doubted that Rachel 
 died with the hope of another life. 
 
 " Until now I had doubted this faith of hers, which, per- 
 haps, was not definite and free from doubt until the last sol- 
 emn moment. However, I must confess that I had already 
 heard her utter words of religious hope on the occasion of a 
 solemn act of her life, which took place on the 15th of last 
 December. 
 
 " But, though she was, to all outward appearance, dead, life 
 was not in reality extinct for some time after the fatal news 
 had been telegraphed to her relatives in Paris. The syncope 
 that preceded death bore so much resemblance to it that even 
 the physicians were deceived by it. The one who was to em- 
 balm the body fancied he discerned a slight beating of the ar- 
 tery of the neck. A mirror held to the lips showed no sign 
 of breath, but there was an almost impercepible motion of the 
 heart, which did not cease for some hours." 
 
 Rachel had died withoxit a sigh. Of all her relatives, Sa- 
 rah, who had not left her since her departure from Paris, was 
 the only one present at the last scene. Rose, the faithful 
 maid, who had attended her for twenty years, and decked her 
 for many a triumph, smoothed the pillow under the death-pale 
 cheek. The doctor, the Rabbi of Nice, and ten members of 
 the Consistory, were the other persons present. So cabn and 
 beautifid were the features after death that a photograph was 
 taken of them. 
 
 Q2
 
 370 MEMOIHS OF RACHICr.. 
 
 The body was embalmed and taken to Paris for interment. 
 When the bier passed through Marseilles, the Rabbi and Con- 
 sistory of that city came to the station and said prayers over 
 the body, after which the coffin was raised by the members 
 and carried to the railway carriage. 
 
 Though every token of respect was paid thus publicly to 
 the remains of this celebrated woman, though they were brought 
 to Paris with all the care, the pomp of woe, that money could 
 procure, a delay, occasioned, as already related, by the fact that 
 death did not really take place at the time it was supposed, 
 gave rise to the most absurd reports. The story ran that, 
 to avoid expense, the body had been put into a common deal 
 packing-case, and sent to the railway to be forwarded to Paris 
 as merchandise ; that, in accordance with this denomination, 
 it had been stowed away in the* luggage van, but on the arri- 
 val of the train at the Lyons station, to the amazement of all, 
 the case was missing! Who could have had any inducement 
 to commit so sacrilegious a theft ? None but a lover, of course ; 
 
 consequently it must have been M . He had been her 
 
 first love. After a rupture that had lasted years, during which 
 each had sought consolation elsewhere, the breach had been 
 healed, the friendly intercourse resumed, the tie cemented 
 anew. Rachel had no sooner undertaken the transatlantic 
 excursion that had proved so fatal than she longed to return 
 to Europe. To the addresses of new admirers she replied by 
 
 showing the portrait of M . On her arrival in France, 
 
 she had, with her sister Sai'ah, been on a visit at his country 
 residence, and when her health sent her to Egypt, she had 
 
 been followed thither by. her faithful friend. M was 
 
 lai'gely interested in the Lyons railway, and could easily pos- 
 sess himself of the case that contained all that remained of 
 her he had loved. The object of the theft was to inter the 
 precious remains in his own grounds, and erect there a monu- 
 ment over which he might mourn unseen by profane eyes. 
 
 The arrival of Sarah, accompanying the remains, at last 
 silenced the indefatigable newsmongers, and the funeral obse- 
 quies were performed according to the Jewish rites, in the Is- 
 raelite division of the cemetery of Pere la Chaise. The hearse 
 was preceded by the Grand Rabbi of the Jewish Consistory
 
 JIEMOIKS OF UACIIKL. 371 
 
 of Paris, and followed by the father, brother, and youngest 
 boy as chief mourners. The ribbons were held by IMM. Alex. 
 Dumas (the elder), Auguste Maquet, Chairman of the Society 
 of Dramatic Authors, M. GeofFroy, societaire of the The'atre 
 Frangais, and Baron Taylor. 
 
 Notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, the crowd 
 was immense. Perhaps no dramatic artist was ever followed 
 to the grave by so numerous a cortege of distinguished writers. 
 Among these illustrious were INLM. Scribe, Alphonse de Vigny, 
 St. Beuve, Emilie Augier, Lcgouve, Viennet, and other mem- 
 bers of the Academy ; M. Camille Doucet, from the Minis- 
 ters d'Etat ; M. Emile de Girardin ; MM. Halevy, Alexander 
 Dumas, Auguste Barbier, Fiorentino, Mario Nehaud, Arsene 
 Houssaye, Louis de Eatisbonne, Latour de St. Ybars, Michael 
 Levy, and the managers of the Parisian theatres. The ma- 
 jority of the artistes of the Gi'and Opera, Theatre Fran^ais, 
 Opei'a Comique, &c., «S:c., Avere also there. 
 
 Funeral orations were spoken by MM. Jules Janin, Auguste 
 Maquet, and Bataille. 
 
 The public testimony the rabbi's words afforded that the 
 tragedienne had died in the faith of the people was probabl}^ 
 introduced in his discourse on account of the reports circu- 
 lated that in her heart, at least, she was a Catholic, in corrob- 
 oration of which it was assorted that during her last illness 
 she had constantly worn on her bosom an image of the Vir- 
 gin, and that, so long as she had strength to read any thing, 
 her favorite book was the "Imitation." How far this was 
 true it is difficult to say, as Sarah was too stanch a Jewess 
 not to conceal from every eye any such manifestations of apos- 
 tasy if they had existed. Rachel herself, even at the last hour, 
 gave no positive indication of a preference for any particular 
 creed, not even of the one she was born in, and of which she 
 had never been a strict observer. 
 
 But while so many men, ranking high in the different 
 branches of literature and art, had hastened to testif}', by their 
 presence, the loss sustained by the classic drama, the absence 
 of one whose place no other could fill was noticed with sur- 
 prise. M. Sanson, the professor whose lessons during so many 
 years bad so largely contiihuted to the success of INIadomni-
 
 372 MEMOIRS OF RACHEL. 
 
 selle Rachel, and who was expected, as the representative of 
 the Comedie Fran^aise, to have pronounced her funeral ora- 
 tion, was not even present at the burial. The reason soon 
 became public. On the previous Saturday, M. Empis, the 
 manager of the Comedie Francjaise, had received a letter from 
 M. Felix, sen., the purport of which was that he hoped some 
 one would speak, in the name of the company, at the inter- 
 ment of his daughter, appointed to take place on the follow- 
 ing Monday, but, at the same time, peremptorily rejecting M. 
 Sanson as the orator. 
 
 The letter having been communicated to the societaires, this 
 expression of hostility toward a comrade who was loved and 
 esteemed by all was very properly resented, and it was re- 
 solved that no one should take the place of him whom merit 
 and priority of standing in the company entitled to represent it. 
 
 Thus it was fated that dissensions and petty quarrels should 
 accompany her career even beyond the grave.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 It might have been supposed that the curtain had dropped over the 
 closing scene, and that the last French tragedienne had been left to rest 
 in the tomb hallowed by the memory of genius. Not so. Scarcely 
 three months had elapsed since she was laid in her grave when her 
 name, placarded all over Paris, once more called the public, when the 
 curtain was once more raised. This time the after-piece acted was 
 sadder than any tragedy in which she had, living, borne a part ; it was 
 entitled " Vente Apres Deces de Mademoiselle Rachel." The only ar- 
 ticles it had been thought necessary to specify in these notices were the 
 china and^ne wines. 
 
 The tragidienne had been, throughout her career, the stay and chief 
 support of her father's family. She had been exploitce for their benefit 
 as much as for her own, to the last gasp, and now that she was dead 
 it occurred to the children of Israel that something more might be 
 made out of her remains. The spoils were to be divided, and, as it is 
 not the custom in these degenerate days to cast lots for the raiment of 
 the dead, hers was put up at auction. 
 
 Great ingenuity was exerted in order to make the most of the pres- 
 tige attached to eveiy thing that had belonged to Rachel. Ever}' ar- 
 ticle was classed, and a number of catalogues were distributed all over 
 the countiy. The sale was pompously announced, and private and 
 public exhibition days appointed, with all the ceremonial of sergents de 
 ville to guard the treasures, and cicerones to explain them. 
 
 The show was a sad one. The things that had become identified 
 with the mistress Avhom they had contributed to adorn and beautify, 
 that with her had had their home sacred and inviolate, were now but 
 so many goods and chattels, inventoried, catalogued, numbered, ready 
 to come under the hammer, thence to be scattered abroad in every di- 
 rection. 
 
 In one room, on tables, were displayed the ornaments and properties 
 pertaining to each character; the damascened corslet, the casque and 
 gauntlets of Joan of Arc ; the gem-hilted poniard of Roxane ; the 
 Egyptian diadem of Cleopdtre ; and the cameos of Phcdre ; the tiaras 
 and sceptres of the royal dames the tragedienne had evoked from their 
 lethargic sleep, and that now had died with her who had personified 
 them so well. Against the walls were arranged the theatrical cos-
 
 oT4 APPENDIX. 
 
 tumes. On a near inspection, it was evident that the dresses were 
 made of the most costly materials ; but, as they hung there, lank, limp, 
 and shapeless, empty of the lithe form that had given such classic grace 
 to their folds, such queenly dignity to their sweeping trains, the rich 
 vestures gave the place the appearance of a costumier's show-room. 
 
 Had they voices, what disclosures those embroidered bodices, those 
 jeweled crowns might make of the passionate workings of the heart 
 they had covered, the brain they had encircled ! Little, however, did 
 the careless crowd trouble itself with such conjectures as it passed 
 along, commenting on all it saw and on all it had heard, on the prob- 
 able value of the gewgaws, and on the errors of her who had worn 
 them. 
 
 In another room were arranged the plate and real jewels, the latter 
 in show-cases much after the manner in which those of some crowned 
 heads were seen at the two great Exhibitions in London and Paris, and 
 really almost as worthy admiration. The imperial and royal gifts, each 
 recording some triumph of which it had been the brilliant reward, were 
 placed conspicuously. 
 
 The library, though not extensive, was valuable, inasmuch as many 
 of the books, having been presented by the authors, Hugo, Lamartine, 
 Ponsard, Emilie Augier, and others of the most admired modern poets, 
 contained their autographs, and, in some cases, complimentary verses 
 addressed to the tragedienne. Among the works of the theatrical re- 
 pertory were tragedies with alterations, additions, and remarks in the 
 handwriting of Talma, to whom they had belonged ; others had been 
 similarly annotated by the late owner. 
 
 Among the smaller articles of menage was a cup of Sevres porcelain, 
 which was doubly valuable from having also pertained to two theatrical 
 celebrities : its first owner was Mademoiselle Clairon. The paintings 
 and richest portion of the furniture had been disposed of at the sale of 
 the effects in the Hotel Trudon, some time before Mademoiselle Ra- 
 chel's death. 
 
 So far there was nothing very objectionable in the exhibition. It 
 was probably necessary that the plate, jewels, and other articles should 
 be sold, in order to make a division of the property in accordance with 
 the will of the deceased. But it really seemed unnecessary, as well as 
 grossly indelicate, to make a public exhibition and sale of the personal 
 linen of the tragedienne ; if the family could not make some arrange- 
 ment among themselves with regard to sixch articles, they might, at 
 least, have been more privately disposed of. The whole stock — and it 
 was a larger one than many ready-made linen warehouses contain — to- 
 gether with the dresses, shawls, and laces, was set down in a sei)arate 
 catalogue, and displayed in the bed-chamber. The petticoats of Adri- 
 enne Lecouvreur and the hose of Marie Stuart were to be knocked down 
 to the highest bidder, as well as the pepluni of Camille and mantle of 
 JPhcdre. 
 
 Here, too, was to be seen the only creature whose countenance indi-
 
 APPENDIX. 3 
 
 lo 
 
 catccl a consciousness of the desecration poing on. By the hed, on 
 which was spread a small fortune in laces, sat a woman past the mid- 
 dle age, whose thin figure was clotlied in mourning, and around whose 
 wrinkled features the border of a black cap, unrelieved by a bit of white, 
 was just visible. This was Rose, in whose care for twenty years the 
 wardrobe of Mademoiselle Rachel had always remained. She still sat 
 there, faithful to her trust to the last, the poor old waiting-maid who 
 had seen the commencement and the close of the tragedienne's career, 
 who had decked her so often with that finery, and who, with the same 
 trembling hands, had attired her in her last dress. 
 
 What her feelings were needed no telling. In the deep lines around 
 the compressed lips grief and anger were mingled, and the look in the 
 dark eyes that glared at each stranger who approached to examine the 
 laces on the bed was one of hatred and defiance. Though the figure 
 was motionless, though the head never turned, the look followed you ; 
 you could not get rid of it ; it reached whatever good feeling lay under- 
 neath the thick coating of selfishness with which experience of the 
 world had covered your heart ; you felt thoroughly ashamed of the idle 
 curiosity that had brought you there to overhaul those sad relics, and, 
 unheeding the admonitions of the Cerberus in the shape of a sei-geant 
 de ville, bawling out at short intervals, " Passez, Messieurs; passez, Mes- 
 dames," you hastened to make your escape. 
 
 The same eye to effect that had presided over the arrangement of the 
 difterent articles had organized the sales. In lieu of the crowd of sor- 
 didly-clothed, dirty-faced, hook-nosed, long-bearded, cunning-eyed deal- 
 ers in second-hand goods, hustling, jostling, elbowing, and crushing the 
 toes of any luckless wight whose decent appearance proclaimed him not 
 one of them, the respectable-looking bidders who filled the rows of vel- 
 vet-covered benches looked as though they had met there to hear morn- 
 ing concerts. The auctioneer himself spoke in subdued tones, as 
 though he were murmuring prayers, to which the attentive audience 
 gave the responses. 
 
 The buyers -NVere, as we have already said, of the better classes at 
 these sales, with the exception, however, of the two days on which the 
 costumes wei'e sold, when numerous costumiers and marchandes a la 
 toilette came in search of bargains. Thus many a gay masquerader 
 will unconsciously polk, and quadrille, and waltz in a fancy garb made 
 of the robes in which Camille has uttered her fierce anathemas, or Phc- 
 dre lamented her fatal love. 
 
 Among other attempts made to give additional interest to some of 
 the articles sold, the old story of the guitar was revived by some of the 
 papers in behalf of an instmment of the kind that was coming under 
 the hammer. But this was beyond even the boldness of an auctioneer. 
 When it came to be the turn of the guitar, he said that it " had been 
 erroneously announced that this was the instmment with which Made- 
 moiselle Rachel, when a child, had sung in the cajes. Still this guitar 
 •was valuable, inasmuch as it had been ten years in the tragedienne's
 
 376 APPENDIX. 
 
 possession, and was occasionally used by her en souvenir of her first 
 calling." How little the bidders credited even this more modest state- 
 ment was evident in the price the guitar brought — 10 francs : as it was 
 quite new and clean, it was much less than its market value. 
 
 THE END.
 
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