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Updated: May 17, 2025
Coquelin, Febvre, and I carried off the laurels of the day. I had just commenced in my studio in the Avenue de Clichy a large group, the inspiration for which I had gathered from the sad history of an old woman whom I often saw at nightfall in the Baie des Trepasses.
Frederic Febvre pointed out to me that I ought to stay with the Comedie, because it would save money for me, and I was quite incapable of doing that myself. "Believe me," he said, "when we are with the Comedie we must not leave; it means our bread provided for us later on." Got, our doyen, then approached me. "Do you know what you are doing in sending in your resignation?" he asked.
This is like Merry-Andrew on the low rope copying lubberly the same tricks which his master is so dexterously performing on the high. I will trouble your lordship but with one objection more, which I know not whether I found in Le Febvre or Valois, but I am sure I have read it in another French critic, whom I will not name because I think it is not much for his reputation.
The advance booking, however, was more than L400, and the committee would not hear of it. "Oh well," Got said to Mr. Mayer, "we must give the role to some one else if Sarah Bernhardt cannot play. There will be Croizette, Madeleine Brohan, Coquelin, Febvre, and myself in the cast, and, que diable! it seems to me that all of us together will make up for Mademoiselle Bernhardt."
Macrobius has answered what the ancients could urge against him, and some things I have lately read in Tannegui le Febvre, Valois, and another whom I name not, which are scarce worth answering. They begin with the moral of his poem, which I have elsewhere confessed, and still must own, not to be so noble as that of Homer.
The Figaro, which was in a very bad humour with me just then, had an article from which I quote the following extract: "L'Etrangere is not a piece in accordance with the English taste. Mlle. Croizette, however, was applauded enthusiastically, and so were Coquelin and Febvre. Mile. He knew perfectly well, this worthy Mr. He had been to my house and seen Dr.
Croizette came up to me and said, "What's the matter? I hardly recognise you as you are, and you weren't yourself at all just now in the play." In a few words I told her what I had seen and all that I had felt. Frederic Febvre sent at once to get news, and the doctor came hurrying to me. "Your mother had a fainting fit, Mademoiselle," he said, "but they have just taken her home."
Others then came to me, and they all gave me advice tinged by their own personality: Mounet as a seer or believer; Delaunay prompted by his bureaucratic soul; Coquelin as a politician blaming another person's ideas, but extolling them later on and putting them into practice for his own profit; Febvre, a lover of respectability; Got, as a selfish old growler understanding nothing but the orders of the powers that be and advancement as ordained on hierarchical lines.
Flechier, as I knew, earned a very fair livelihood by going about to dress salads for dinner parties. His compatriot, Le Febvre, had begun to give a few lessons as a dancing-master. One of them took the other home to his lodgings; and there, when their most immediate personal adventures had been hastily talked over, came the inquiry from Flechier as to Monsieur de Crequy
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