AN EVENING WITH RACHEL. 371 nance — even the disordered table, the unsnuffed candle, the dozing mother — all made up a picture worthy of Hembrandt, a chapter that might figure in Wilhelm Meister, and a reminiscence of artist life never to be effaced. Half-past twelve arrived. The father of the family came in from the opera. As soon as he was seated he ordered his daughter, in tones which seemed brutal to the poet, to stop her reading. Rachel closed the book, and said in a low tone, " This is revolting ; I will buy a book-holder and read in bed." Do Musset looked at her and saw large tears rolling from her eyes. It was to him, indeed, most revolting to hear this wonderful creature addressed in such a manner; and he took his leave full of admiration, respect, and emotion. Brutal as may have been the father's manner, we are obliged to confess that he was substantially right ; and if this gifted girl had taken his advice, only so far as to go to bed when her work was done, she would not have died at the age of thirty-seven, when, in the course of nature, she would not have reached the full development of her powers. Alfred De Musset began soon after to write a play for her which he did not live to complete ; for he, too, was one of the brilliant people who burn the -candle of life at both ends, and live in disregard of those phys- ical conditions of welfare which no man or woman can violate with impunity. In Paris, that night, there were a thousand suppers more sumptuous and splendid. The chance presence of a sympathetic reporter, by preserving a record of this one, reveals to us the sublime child herself and the atmos- phere in which she lived. Strange that our cherished apparatus of education should give us mediocrity, while genius is generated under the rudest conditions, and develops itself, not merely without help, but in spite of the harshest hindrance !
