nished even those who wished for it, brought back crowds to that theatre in the Rue Richelieu which had lately been entirely deserted. Already the name of the actress who performed this miracle is on your lips. It was Rachel.
This young girl had been for some time acting in tragic parts in a small theatre in the Rue Saint Martin, where on Sunday, at certain hours, dramatic representations were given. The director was Saint Aulaire, who, although a member of the Comédie Française, only occupied a subordinate position. He made his pupils act, and gave them tickets, which they were allowed to sell, instead of receiving payment themselves. The plays in which Rachel acted were the most lucrative. She often appeared, therefore, and was applauded and admired by the inhabitants of the quarter. Some of my pupils, astonished by her talent, spoke to me about her, and made me anxious to judge for myself. I went to hear her one day, when she was acting in Corneille's Don Sancho. I confess that she surprised me by her performance of Isabella, Queen of Castile. I was struck by the tragic pathos she displayed. The divine spark animated this young and fragile creature. She was then so small that she was obliged to raise her head to speak to the actors on the stage with her; yet by her air of queenly dignity she gave you the impression of looking down on them. They were great gawky lads, unaccustomed to the stage; her ease made them appear still more awkward. There were, however, if I can so express myself, "lacunaæ" of intelligence. The rôle was imperfectly understood here and there, but she had caught the sentiment and tragedy, and one could foresee the great future in store for this marvellous child. I went behind the scenes between the acts to compliment her. She had already dressed in male attire to act in the comedy that was to follow. She and her comrades were playing some game, I know not what, in which it was necessary to hop on one foot, and it was in this attitude I surprised the ex-Queen of Spain. She listened to my compliments with one leg in the air, thanked me with much courtesy, and began hopping again directly I had done.
Some time after she presented herself at the Conservatoire, where the assembled professors were favourably impressed. She soon left the Conservatoire for the Gymnase Theatre. She made her first appearance there in a piece called The Vendéene, in which she produced a favourable impression. The director, however, soon recognised that her talent was not suited to his theatre; he advised her to study for the Comédie Française. Then it was that she came to see me again. I had often thought of her during the space that intervened, and was delighted to welcome her back. I became her master, and eight months afterwards she appeared on the stage of the Théâtre Français in the part of Camille in Les Horaces.
