RACHEL,
As her name is only known in her theatrical profession, is of Jewish parentage, her father, M. Felix, being among the poorest of his tribe. Rachel Felix was the eldest of seven children, and early began to aid her parents in their severe struggle to gain subsistence for their family. Her career opened as a street singer: with an old guitar on which she played the accompaniment, the little Rachel went forth to win by her songs the bread she was unable to earn with her hands
On a cold evening In January, about the year 1830, Choron, the founder of an academy for music in Paris, was charmed by the silver voice of a child singing out the most delightful cadences upon the keen wintry air. It was little Rachel "singing for her supper." Choron pressed through the crowd who were gathered around her, and in utter amazement gazed upon a delicate little girl of ten or twelve summers, thinly clad, and standing in the snow, the very image of desolation. With her benumbed finger she held out a wooden bowl for a sou, and in it Choron dropped a silver coin. His heart was touched, and the deepest feelings of interest for the little warbler were awakened.
"My child," he asked, "who taught you to sing so well?"
"Nobody, sir I" said the little girl, while her teeth chattered; "I have learnt just as 1 could."
"But where did you learn those beautiful airs which you sing, and which I do not know?"
"Indeed, sir, 1 have learnt a little of them everywhere. When I go about the streets I listen under the windows to those ladies and gentlemen who sing. I try to catch the airs and the words, and afterwards arrange them the best way I can."
"You are cold and hungry; come with me, and I will give you food and clothing," said the good Choron; and the crowd clapped their hands. But they lost their little Rachel—she never again sang on the Boulevards. Choron obtained permission of her parents to give her a musical education, and under his tuition her wonderful vocal powers rapidly developed. Death took away her benefactor, and she returned awhile to her miserable parents.
The little girl was then just budding into the bloom of a graceful and fascinating woman. She looked at the stage as the means of obtaining bread, and succeeded in making an engagement at the Gymnase, one of the minor theatres of Paris. She made no impression; the audiences refused to applaud. She was disappointed, but not discomfited. From an old clothes-merchant of her own race she borrowed an odd volume of Racine, and was charmed with the tragedy of Andromache. She recited the part of the daughter of Helene; her eyes filled with the tears of deep emotion, and she said to her mother, "I know my destiny—I will perform tragedy."
Through the influence of a retired actor she obtained an engagement at the Theatre Française, and her appearance in the characters of Racine was greeted with immense applause. The Parisians were in ecstasies. The singing-girl of the Boulevards was apotheosized as the "Tragic Muse." Her salary was first fixed at four thousand francs: the second season it was raised to one hundred and fifty thousand francs. The courts of France and England soon delighted to pay her homage; and within ten years from the hour when
