profoundly imbued that, impatient to manifest itself, it has chosen the most rapid signs.

These artifices constitute what is properly called bye play, a part most essential of the theatrical art, and which is most difficult to attain, possess, and regulate well. It is by this means that the actor gives to his speech an air of truth, and takes from it all appearance of speaking by

rote.

There are, also, situations in which a personage, transported by the violence of feeling, finds, at once, all the expressions he wishes; his words arrive on his lips as rapidly as the thoughts in his mind: they are born with them, and succeed each other without interruption. The manner of the actor ought then to be hurried, rapid, and without taking breath; he must even conceal from the audience the effort he makes to prolong his breath, which he must do, as the slightest interruption, or the slightest pause, would destroy the illusion, because the mind would seem to participate in this pause.* Besides, passion does

* To accomplish this, and avoid the disagreeable noise sometimes heard on the stage by an actor taking breath after a great effort, I have hit on a method which has invariably

not follow the rules of grammar, and pays little respect to colons and semicolons, commas and full-stops, which it displaces without any ceremony.

Lekain had a long illness, a few years before his death, and it was to this illness that he owed the perfect developement and maturing of his talent. This may appear strange, but it is literally true. There are violent crises and certain disorders in the animal economy, which often excite the nervous system, and give the imagination an inconceivable impetus. The body suffers, but the mind is active. We have seen sick persons astonish by the vivacity of their ideas; and

succeeded. The actor ought to habituate himself to take breath before he absolutely needs it, thus inhaling a little at a time; and often he may do it without its being perceived in the least by the audience. He will accomplish it the easiest if he slightly draws his breath before the words beginning with the vowels; and, if he practises this method constantly, he will be able to repeat ten or a dozen lines without seeming once to take breath.

[The author here gives an instance how he would repeat twelve lines of French poetry, which it would be useless to cite here. He takes his slight aspirations at almost every line, generally as stated above, and between the expressions that require most emphasis.]

others, in whom memory, resuming a new degree of activity, reveals circumstances and events completely forgotten. Others have, again, a kind of foresight of the future, and, perhaps, Chenier was not wrong in saying,

"Le ciel donne aux mourans des accens prophétiques."

On recovering from this state, there always remains something of this excess of sensibility imprinted on the nervous system; the emotions are easier and more profound, and all our sensations acquire a greater degree of delicacy. It would seem as if these shocks purified and renewed our being, and it is what Lekain experienced after his illness. The inaction to which his long recovery compelled him, became of use to him; his repose was that of labour, for genius does not always require exercise, and, like the gold mine, it forms and perfects itself in silence and repose.

sence.

He re-appeared on the stage, after a long abWhat was the surprise of the public, who, instead of having to exercise indulgence towards a man enfeebled by suffering, saw him, on the contrary, as it were, ascend from the tomb, shining with perfections, and a more per

fect intelligence; he seemed clothed with a more perfect and pure existence. It was then that his intelligence rejected every thing that his reason disavowed: there were no more cries, no more efforts of the lungs, no more of those common griefs, no more of those vulgar tears, which lessen and degrade the personage; his voice, at once flexible and sonorous, had acquired new accents and new vibrations, which found respondent chords in every heart: his tears were heroic and penetrating: his acting, full, profound, pathetic, and terrible, roused and moved even the most insensible of his hearers.

It was, also, at this latter period of his life, that, having acquired a greater knowledge of the passions, and having himself, perhaps, witnessed deep anguish, he was the better able to paint it: and if he frequently, to express great sorrow, suffered his melancholy and dolorous voice to escape through sobs and tears, often too, in the highest degree of moral suffering, his voice changed, it became veiled, and uttered only inarticulate sounds of woe. His eyes appeared stupid with sorrow, and shed no tears, which seemed to be chased back on the heart. Admirable arti. fice! drawn from nature, and more calculated to

move the soul than tears themselves; for, in real life, while we pity those who weep, we feel, at least, that tears are a relief to them; but how much more is our pity excited at the sight of the unfortunate being, whom the excess of deep despair deprives of voice to express his suffering, and of tears to relieve him.

Lekain was the creature of passion:* he never loved, but to madness; and, it is said, he hated in the same manner. He will never rise to excellence, as an actor, whose soul is not susceptible of the extremes of passion. There is, in the expression of the passions, so many shades that cannot be divined, and that the actor cannot paint until he has felt them himself. The being rich in observations, which he has made on his own nature, at once serves himself for his study and example; he interrogates himself on the impressions his soul has felt, on the expression they imprinted on his features; on the accents of his voice, in the various states of feeling.

*In the latter period of his life, he fell desperately in love with a Madame Benoit, whom he intended to marry; and whenever he played, he placed her in the first side wing, and addressed to her all the expressions of tenderness and love which he spoke to the actress playing with him.