The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1884-09-13

| to do; yoa get Il new sensation, which,
| like the former one, has the same result.
You are ROW asking yourself if you
| ought really tt go to the Gymnase, and
| You would be glad if they gave you a
| preteXt' for wishing something other than
what You wished foI at first. AS We
/ have gone in for philosophical contiden-
| ceS, let rs 90 on. You have Just arrived
at that period when a woman, who has
been ten years on the stage, can and
ought TO become an artist. What sad
iens You, now and then, is that You are
| Just going through that phase Of life
| when one looks back more willingly than
one looks forward, and you ask yourself
whether your instinct, your tastes, your
| intellect, your soul did not lead you to
do other than you have done, to choose
another path in life. To be beautiful, to
be Oh the stage, to have one or several
| lovers, to be called after the fourth act,
to lend ones good looks, with your heart
| locked up, until tile time comes when
you meet some one worthy of having the
key, and who is never found, all this may
answer for some time, and may delusive-
| ly represent real life by movement, but it
cannot last
Desclee accepted NJ. Montigny's offer
in the following terms:
'Only your consent is now required
VI. Dumas says yes ard so do ], as
you may easily imagine. lam your pen
&i2nnairc from the lst of jane. Only
| beg of you not to engage ne for more
than one year. l give up many things
for the honor Of belonging to the Gym
nase. / shall cease to regret them when
| feel that you are perfectly satisfied
with me. and then | shall be most hap
py to remain with you but if am only
capable of holding second rate posi-
ton, | shall wish To return instantly to
my village home. Salary to be what you
think proper.
Receive, beg You, the expression of
my best sentiments.
\. DEsCLEE.
Am | to keep my engagement secret?
| can hold my tongue, although wo-
man"
Desclce came to Paris, where, thanks
to u. Dumas advice. she was given the
part Of Frou Frou. n. Dumas says
that Montigny's FIRST impressions of her
were dreadful:
"What is this woman you have in
duced me to engage - said Montigny to
me- after the first visit he received from
his new pcnSi0naaire. ''She came to me
at the theatre, by daytime, in WOODEN
dress of green and gray check a cloak
with a gathered hood, like Normandy
peasant, only hers was Of black silk,
with the hood over her head instead of a
bonnet. In one hand she carried bag,
containing her part, her handkerchief,
her keys, purse, powder box ; and in the
other she was leading wretched dog,
which she handed over to an old servant
who had come with her, and who only
wanted large white apron to make her
Thoroughly compromising. | say . i am
getting alarmed. Diane de lays and
Frou Frou will never come out of that. y
Patience patience" answered, seeing
that lie was ready to return to his for
mer prejudiees, though OF a different
kind -" you will charge your mind about
her
The first representation has taken
place, and Desclce writes to Dumas:
1T is over OFF, had on lovely dresses
Of every hue, an aigrette in the hair
which made ne look like wise dog.
The theatre crammed. | was Kissed i'll
the first act. and received an ovation at
the fifth. | felt nay pulse to see il it
beat any quicker-not a bit-per!ect fiat
calm-no anxiety, no fear, no JOY, moth
ing. So | have only been sketched and
now am finished. Poor me The di-
rector said to me: 1T was as good as
Rose Montigny was the husband of
Rose Cheri, a famous actress at the Gym
nase Theatre, in Paris. That was loud
PROSE. He wanted me to prolong my en-
gagcment on the spot. NJ. Montigny
will write to you, but know nothing for
certain, excepting that it gives me inf
mite pleasure to chat with you, my gen
tie cuufessor | send you tender remen-
branees. AIMEE"
Iii june, 1870, she writes from Brus
sells:
"Nhy. in Heaven name, am not hap
~, or even content? SAail | never be ;
Excepting those years o suffering, the
thought of which haunts me- and that
am always talking about-snce that
time when | was a seemingly joyous wo-
man, with all the appearances of hap
py one-since | left that fearful place, |
have no complaint to make of anything
or anybody. How many woman would
thank Heaven? | am i'll good health,
the theatre is always full, and every
night flowers and triumpl,s enough to
satisfy all the minotaurs of the theatre !;
it leaves me Indifferent.
In answer to another letter, VI. Dumas
advised her to continue her career as an
artist. ''Do not try" he adds, ''to be-
come a Lucretia or Magdalen ; content
Yourself with being Ninon by day and
a Rachel at night" This programme
did not suit Desclee's peculiar tempera-
ment. She begins her Old life again, and
then writes to her coniessor, as she calls
NJ. Dumas:
This is how it happened. l had a
bird which called Tamberlick. took
it everywhere with me, and it amused
ne to watch this little creature. who
| only left off singing to eat and eating to
sing these occupations being only inter-
rupted by little funny movements as pref
t. as they we're useless. One day the
door of his cage was left open, and the
foolish little thing flew away. Why was
he not satisfied with his life ? | had Civ.
en- him seed, amusement travelling and
love. What more did he want? Lib
crty, men will say. Well, he has it now.
went about the quays the bouleyalds,
to look for more birds, when met NJ,
who said You are always alone and
must be very duh come and dine with
me, sans faC0H. for companys sake. |