“La Princesse de Carisme,” a romantic-satirical, three-act musical comedy, dealt with the love-affairs and adventures of a Persian Prince and his boon companion and “confident”--Arlequin. There was some charming music in it, and so great was its success at the theatre of the St. Laurent Fair that it was put on at the Opera in Paris by Royal command. By the year 1718, it will be remembered, old Christopher Rich had died, leaving his theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields in London to his son John Rich, who made himself famous and increased his wealth by producing the first pantomimes ever seen in the great metropolis, which were mounted on the stage with all the attractions of gorgeous scenery and dresses, grand “mechanical effects,” appropriate music, and striking ballets; the various acts of the spectacle being interspersed with a comic or serio-comic element, supplied by the eternal love-affairs of Arlequin and Columbine. [Illustration: Marie Sallé (_From an engraving by Petit after a picture by Fenouil_).] This form of entertainment became so popular as to rival seriously the power of London’s two chief theatres, Drury Lane and Haymarket, mainly through Rich’s enterprise in securing all the best opera-singers, dancers, acrobats and other performers from the Continent. In fact, he may fairly be described as London’s earliest music-hall manager, for the entertainment provided at the Lincoln’s Inn Fields theatre was much like that of a modern variety house. It was thus he came to engage Mlle. Sallé and her brother, who made their first appearance here as dancers in an English comedy, “Love’s Last Shift,” in October, 1725. Next year also they appeared in London, and in April, 1727, Mlle. Sallé was given a complimentary benefit, in which she and her brother introduced some of their youthful pupils. In that same year she made her _début_ at the Paris Opera, where she remained till, for some obscure reason, she broke therefrom, and in October returned to London, once more under John Rich’s management. The reason for the break may have been that professional jealousy did not give her the place which her talents should have justified; or may have been over the question of costume-reform, which was a matter of burning interest to some of the younger spirits in those days. Or it may have been merely as the result of managerial changes at the Opera in 1728. But whatsoever the reason, what Paris lost London gained, and her greatest triumph here came at the end of 1733, when she made her first appearance at Covent Garden, following it up with still greater success in the spring of the following year, when she achieved a striking success in a classic ballet, “Pygmalion,” in more or less correct costume, instead of in the absurdly befrilled garb, with laced cuirasse, powdered hair and plumed helmets, which were considered _de rigueur_ on the stage at that absurdly artificial period.