Rachel, Her Stage Life and Her Real Life |
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Common terms and phrases
Achille Fould actress admirers Adrienne Lecouvreur Alfred de Musset Alfred de Vigny already appear applauding Arsène Houssaye artistic asked caprices carriage charming Comédie Française course Crémieux daughter dear Déjazet dramatic Dumas emotion father Faubourg feel felt francs French genius gesture glory heart Hector hope invited Jacob Félix Jules Janin kiss knew la bonne année ladies Legouvé letter live lover Madame Crémieux Madame de Girardin Madame Félix Mademoiselle Rachel Marseillaise Médée Minister Mlle Molière mother national theatre never night offered once Paris passionate Phèdre picture pieces of silver play playgoers poet Ponsard poor present Queen Rachel Raphael Rebecca rehearsals replied Ristori Romantic Saint-Aulaire Samson Sarah seemed stage story supper Supper-parties tears tell Théâtre Français theatrical thing thought tion told took tragedy Tribe of Félix triumph Véron Victor Hugo Walewski woman write wrote young
Popular passages
Page 130 - I had heard this woman termed "plain," and I expected bony harshness and grimness something large, angular, sallow. What I saw was the shadow of a royal Vashti: a queen, fair as the day once, turned pale now like twilight, and wasted like wax in flame. For...
Page 130 - Suffering had struck that stage empress; and she stood before her audience neither yielding to, nor enduring, nor, in finite measure, resenting it: she stood locked in struggle, rigid in resistance. She stood, not dressed, but draped in pale antique folds, long and regular like sculpture. A background and entourage and flooring of deepest crimson threw her out white like alabaster — like silver; rather, be it said, like Death.
Page 130 - The theatre was full — crammed to its roof: royal and noble were there: palace and hotel had emptied their inmates into those tiers so thronged and so hushed. Deeply did I feel myself privileged in having a place before that stage; I longed to see a being of whose powers I had heard reports which made me conceive peculiar anticipations.
Page 66 - Mon époux, en mourant, m'a laissé ses lumières ; Son sang dont tes bourreaux viennent de me couvrir M'a dessillé les yeux et me les vient d'ouvrir.
Page 53 - Si ta bouche ne doit rien dire De ces vers désormais sans prix; Si je n'ai, pour être compris, Ni tes larmes, ni ton sourire; Si dans ta voix, si dans tes traits, Ne vit plus le feu qui m'anime; Si le noble cœur de Monime Ne doit plus savoir mes secrets ; Si ta triste lettre est signée; Si les gardiens d'un vieux tombeau Laissent leur prêtresse indignée Sortir, emportant son flambeau ; Cette langue de ma pensée Que tu connais, que tu soutiens, Ne sera jamais prononcée...
Page 130 - I wondered if she would justify her renown: with strange curiosity, with feelings severe and austere, yet of riveted interest, I waited. She was a study of such nature as had not encountered my eyes yet: a great and new planet she was: but in what shape? I waited her rising. She rose at nine that December night: above the horizon I saw her come. She could shine yet with pale grandeur and steady might; but that star verged already on its judgment-day.
Page 130 - These evil forces bore her through the tragedy, kept up her feeble strength — she was but a frail creature ; and, as the action rose and the stir deepened, how wildly they shook her with their passions of the pit ! They wrote " Hell" on her straight, haughty brow.
Page 74 - of a very good height, too thin for beauty, but not for dignity or grace. . . . Her face is very expressive and dramatically fine, though not absolutely beautiful. It is a long oval, with a head of classical and very graceful contour, the forehead rather narrow, and not very high ; the eyes small, dark, deep set, and terribly powerful ; the brow straight, noble, and fine in form.
Page 130 - I found upon her something neither of woman nor of man : in each of her eyes sat a devil. These evil forces bore her through the tragedy, kept up her feeble strength — for she was but a frail creature ; and as the action rose and the stir deepened, how wildly they shook her with their passions of the pit ! They wrote HELL on her straight, haughty brow. They tuned her voice to the note of torment. They writhed her regal face to a demoniac mask. Hate and Murder and Madness incarnate she stood. It...
Page 130 - I recognised my mistake. Behold ! I found upon her something neither of woman nor of man: in each of her eyes sat a devil. These evil forces bore her through the tragedy, kept up her feeble strength — for she was but a frail creature ; and as the action rose and the stir deepened, how wildly they shook her with their passions of the pit 1 They wrote HELL on her straight, haughty brow.