that I imagined myself at the theatre," and Piccini
congratulated her on having been largely instrumental in its success.
As _Didon_ she made one of her greatest successes. "Never," says Grimm,
"has there been united acting more captivating, a sensibility more
perfect, singing more exquisite, happier by-play, and more noble
_abandon_." She was crowned on the stage--an honor hitherto unknown,
and since so much abused. The secret of her marvelous gift lay in her
extreme sensibility. Others might sing an air better, but no one could
give to either airs or recitatives accentuation more pure or more
impassioned, action more dramatic, and by-play more eloquent. Some one
complimenting her on the vivid truth with which she embodied her part,
"I really experience it," she said; "in a death-scene I actually feel as
if I were dead."

It has been said that Talma was the first to discard the absurd costumes
of the theatre, but this credit really belongs to Mme. Saint Huberty.
She studied the Greek and Roman statues, and wore robes in keeping with
the antique characters, especially suppressing hoops and powder. This
singer remained queen of the French stage until 1790, when she retired.
During the time of her art reign she appeared in many of the principal
operas of Piccini, Salieri, Sacchini, and Gretry, showing but little
less talent for comedy than for tragedy. She retired from public life
to become the wife of the Count d'Entraignes. Her tragic fate many years
afterward is one of the celebrated political assassinations of the age.
Count d'Entraignes at this time was residing at Barnes, England, having
recently left the diplomatic service of Russia, in which he had shown
himself one of the most dangerous enemies of the Napoleonic government
in France. The Count's Piedmontese valet had been bribed by a spy of
Fouche, the French Minister of Police, to purloin certain papers. The
valet was discovered by his master, and instantly stabbed him, and, as
the Countess entered the room a moment afterward, he also pierced her
heart with the stiletto recking with her husband's blood, finishing the
shocking tragedy by blowing out his own brains. Thus died, in 1812, one
who had been among the most brilliant ornaments of the French stage.

No record of Sophie Arnould's artistic associates is complete without
some allusion to the celebrated dancers Gaetan Vestris * and Auguste,
his son. Gaetan was accustomed to say that there were three great men