He made Julienne his mistress in 1825. In 1826 she gave him a little daughter whom we shall meet again later. But now arose difficulties of a practical nature. James Pradier, ex-Prix de Rome, Chevalier de la Légion d’Honneur, Membre de l’Institut, Professeur de l’École des Beaux-Arts, could not with propriety, according to his ideas, marry a model. He does not dream of it for an instant, but, as he wishes to do the girl some kindness, however unsuitable, he manages to insinuate her into the theatrical world, and to put her on the boards. Having friends in Brussels, he decrees that she shall go thither to study and make her first appearance; and, as she needs guidance, advice, and protection, he writes her almost every day long letters, in which platitudes alternate with vulgarity. The correspondence continues, wordy and trivial, interminable and foolish, a repulsive mixture of boasting and preaching. Does Julienne show distaste for vaudeville, Pradier proclaims that form of acting to be the most charming in the world, and places it far above tragedy, which he pronounces tiresome and chilling. If Julienne complains that she has but one dress, Pradier tells her that only the leading lights of the stage possess more. If she ventures a timid request for money, he answers that he has none himself, and offers her a book of fairy-tales illustrated under his supervision.
She had to keep herself alive somehow, and when the poor thing had pledged everything she possessed at the pawnbroker’s, she wrote plaintively: “This is the only money my talents have earned for me so far.” She might perhaps have been reduced to some desperate measure, had not chance placed her in the path of Félix Harel.
Although an incorrigible Bonapartist, and consequently a conspirator by trade, Harel seems to have been above all a man of the theatre: in the midst of his political preoccupations, one can always discern his predilection for things pertaining to the stage. He also had a very definite conviction that politics and the drama, statesmen and ballet-dancers, have always been closely linked together. So, whether he was for the moment pamphleteer, financier, or prefect, whether he was holding an appointment, or in full flight, he always had a finger in some theatrical pie, either as a director, a manager, or a private adviser. At the time he first met Julienne, he was filling the latter capacity at the Théâtre Royal, in Brussels. He presented the young woman. Without further training than that which Pradier had directed from afar, we know that she made her first appearance in Brussels, at the beginning of the year 1829—to be exact, on February 17th.
On that day she informs Pradier that her début has been successful, and that the Brussels press is favourable. He at once thanks Providence and decides that she can henceforth support herself by her talent. He writes: “Is not this a great pleasure to you? Does it not lift a weight from your heart, you who have such a noble soul? How sweet is the bread one has earned so honourably! For my part, I feel that all your faults are condoned by the trouble you are taking. Your perseverance will be rewarded, never doubt it. Go on working! Time can never hang heavy when one is labouring honestly; study carries more flowers than thorns.”
Having spoken thus, the artist returned to his business and his pleasures, not without having exhorted Julienne to remain in Brussels as long as possible. He was not ignorant of the passionate desire of the young woman to see her babe once more, but he feared that, if she should not find an engagement in Paris like the one she enjoyed in Brussels, she would again be, morally at least, on his hands. Therefore, redoubling his cautious advice and his counsels of prudence, he implored her not to relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty.
However, nothing deterred her. Julienne, as she used to say afterwards, would rather have trudged the distance that separated her from her child, on foot, than waited any longer. The events of 1829 spared her the trouble. Owing to certain evidences of internal discontent, the government of Charles X was developing liberal proclivities. Among other political exiles, it allowed Félix Harel to return, and with him his illustrious mistress, Mlle. Georges. Julienne shared their lot. She accompanied them, not only to Paris, but to the Theatre of the Porte St. Martin, which, under Harel’s influence, rapidly became the stronghold of romanticism, and on February 27th, 1830, she made her début on its boards in the part of Emma, in L’Homme du Monde, by Ancelot and Saintine. Then she migrated almost at once to the Odéon, of which Harel had just undertaken the management, without, however, resigning that of the Porte St. Martin. She played various parts there throughout the year 1831.
We shall hear later on that she was beautiful, but for the present we must confine ourselves to the question of her talent and dramatic qualities. It has been hinted that she owed her success solely to her lovely face and graceful figure, and that she was one of those ephemeral favourites who reap popular applause in return for the exhibition of their charms. The truth seems to be that “la belle Juliette,” as she was already called, gave proofs of distinguished powers, although one is fain to admit that, at this distance of time, it is not easy to define her capacity with any exactitude. For one thing, it was never Juliette’s good fortune to play an important part which has since become a classic, and by which her true qualities could be gauged: in Harel’s troupe the first-class parts were already justly monopolised by Mlle. Georges and Madame Dorval. Also, nearly all the plays in which Juliette appeared are nowadays looked upon as antiquated and sometimes even absurd. In fact, it is difficult to conceive how they ever could have been given. It will be wiser, therefore, to rely mainly on Pradier’s letters to discover what were the natural gifts which could have inspired that artist to make of his mistress an actress, and even a tragedian.
Pradier, then, considered Juliette well equipped by nature in respect of sentiment, intelligence, and voice production; but he criticised in her a certain timidity and lack of assurance, sufficient to mar her entrances and cover her exits with ridicule. He also thought fit to observe to her that, once she was on the scene, and had overcome her initial fright, she overacted her parts, and was not sufficiently natural; she forgot to address herself to the audience, and would speak into the wings, and neglect to vary her gestures, intonations, and pauses.