Part 15

At length, Madame Dugazon, wearying of London or of love--or of both--condescended to return, and, with her, came Fortune once more to the Comédie-Italienne. The empty boxes, the deserted _parterre_, filled as if by magic, the theatre once more rang with applause, and the directors, who had lately seen ruin staring them in the face, were all smiles and good-humour as they complacently regarded their swelling coffers.

Advancing years brought no decline in the popularity of Madame Dugazon. Unlike the great majority of actresses, who persist in clinging to the very last to the _genre_ in which they first attained celebrity, she was quick to realise the incongruity of a woman whose youth was long past, and whose figure had begun to show a decided tendency to _embonpoint_, continuing to impersonate juvenile heroines, and, accordingly, resolved to devote herself to the representation of young matrons. Anxious to retain the services of an actress who assured the success of every work in which she appeared, the directors of the Comédie-Italienne readily entered into her views, and provided her with the parts she desired. Her success in the matronly style was phenomenal, and her triumph in _Camille, ou le souterrain_ almost equalled that which she had obtained in _Nina_.

* * * * *

Notwithstanding the laxity of her morals, Madame Dugazon, in private life, possessed many amiable qualities. Gay, light-hearted, and witty, though without a spark of malice, she was as popular off the stage as upon it; while, if she were faithful neither to husband nor lover, she was, nevertheless, a staunch friend, who endeared herself to a very large circle of acquaintances. All the authors and composers who worked for her seemed to have held her in the highest esteem: Grétry, Sedaine, Étienne, Marsollier, Dalayrac, Laujon, and many others remained to the last sincerely attached to her. Always sympathetic and ready to oblige, her advice was never sought in vain, and more than one young writer was indebted for his first success to the hints which he had received from the experienced actress. Bouilly, who cherished for her the most lively gratitude and affection, declared that he owed everything to her.[139]

Although never wealthy, for not even the most talented actress or singer of those days could hope for more than a modest competence, while none of her numerous love-affairs, if we except the very brief one with M. Boudreau, seem to have been prompted by any mercenary consideration, she was charitable to the utmost limit of her means, and was ever ready to relieve those in distress. It was at her instigation that, during the severe winter of 1784, special performances were organised for the benefit of the suffering poor and a very large sum realised, which was duly handed over to the Church for distribution. The Church, we are told, was very grateful for this timely assistance. But, with her usual intolerance where the theatrical profession was concerned, she decided that the curés must not be permitted to touch money which came direct from the hands of persons without her pale and, therefore, gave instructions that the alms should be purified by being made to pass through the exchequer of the Lieutenant of Police. This pretty piece of casuistry inspired a wit to the following epistle, supposed to be addressed by St. Augustine to Madame Dugazon and her colleagues:

“Salut à la troupe italique, A ce comité catholique Dont le cœur loyal s’attendrit Sur la calamité publique, C’est le fils de sainte Monique, C’est Augustin qui vous écrit. Oui, mes amis, par cette épître, J’abjure maint et maint chapitre Où j’ai frondé votre métier Comme un tant soit peu diabolique.

* * * * *

Oui, sans être garant de rien, Je croirais qu’un comédien Risque, s’il est homme de bien, D’être sauvé tout comme un autre. Un mime, en face d’un apôtre, C’est un scandale, dira-t-on; Saint Paul à côté de Rosière, Trial vis à vis de saint Pierre, Et bienheureuse Dugazon, Aux pieds d’un diacre ou d’un vicaire, Le paradis serait bouffon. Tant pis pour qui s’en scandalise: Allez au ciel par vos vertus Et laissez clabauder l’Église.”

A Royalist to the core, Madame Dugazon, when the Revolution came, viewed with feelings of indignation and regret the downfall of the King and Queen, the latter of whom had treated her with marked kindness.[140] Nor did she lack the courage of her opinions, as an unsigned letter once in the possession of Mrs. Elliot, the lady who inspired the “First Gentleman in Europe” with so lively a passion, will testify:

“After the 20th of June, 1792, those who wished well to the Royal Family urged the Queen to show herself occasionally in public with the Dauphin, an interesting and beautiful child, and her charming daughter, Madame Royale.

“She went therefore to the Comédie-Italienne, with her children, Madame Élisabeth, the King’s sister, and Madame de Tourzel, _gouvernante_ of the ‘children of France.’ This was the last time that the Queen appeared in public. I was in my box, exactly facing that of the Queen; and, as she was much more interesting than the play, I kept my eyes fixed upon her and her family.

“The piece represented was the _Événements imprévus_, and Madame Dugazon played the soubrette.

“Her Majesty, from the moment she entered the theatre, seemed very sad. She was much affected by the applause of the public, and I saw her several times wipe the tears from her eyes. The little Dauphin, who sat the whole evening upon her knees, appeared anxious to know the cause of his unhappy mother’s tears. She was seen to caress him, and the audience seemed moved by the cruel situation of this unhappy Queen.

“There is a duet in this opera sung by the soubrette and the valet, and Madame Dugazon had to say:

“‘J’aime mon maître tendrement, Ah! combien j’aime ma maîtresse!’

“As, in singing these verses, she placed her hand on her heart and looked at the Queen, every one perfectly understood the allusion.

“Immediately, a number of Jacobins who were among the audience sprang upon the stage, and, if the actors had not concealed Madame Dugazon, they would certainly have killed her. They then drove the poor Queen and her suite from the theatre, and it was all that the guard could do to place them safe and sound in their carriages.

“In the meanwhile, the Queen’s party had joined battle with the Jacobins; but the soldiers intervened and the broil had no serious consequences.”

Shortly after this incident, Madame Dugazon temporarily retired from the Comédie-Italienne, on the plea of ill-health; but really, according to Madame Lebrun, because the public, in a spirit of revenge, had endeavoured to make her sing a revolutionary song upon the stage.[141] In 1795 she reappeared and was received with all the old enthusiasm. At the time of her return, she was merely a pensioner; but, in 1801, when the two Opéra-Comiques were united in a single troupe at the Théâtre-Feydeau, she was admitted a _sociétaire_ and given a seat on the administrative council.

No one was more rejoiced at the Restoration than this most ardent Royalist. “I feel,” she observed to one of her friends, “that now I shall die more happy.” She started at once for Saint-Ouen, and was one of the first to whom Louis XVIII. granted an audience. On being admitted to the royal presence, her emotion overcame her, and she threw herself at the King’s feet, bathed in tears.

The monarch, himself much moved, raised her up. “You have not forgotten me,” said he, kindly, “and I shall always remember the pleasure you gave me at Versailles. I am very grieved that the state of your health has compelled you to retire from the stage. I should be enchanted to see you again.”

After her interview with Louis XVIII., we hear little of Madame Dugazon. She lived a very retired life in the midst of a little circle of intimate friends. All her affection was centred in her son Gustave, a young composer, who, at an early age, showed remarkable promise, which, however, does not seem to have been quite fulfilled.[142] Such was her anxiety for his success that when he had an opera in rehearsal, she is said to have invariably fallen ill and not to have recovered until after the first performance.[143]

She died on September 21, 1821, after a long and painful illness, and was buried in Père-Lachaise. The cortège was followed by a large crowd, and Bouilly, her devoted friend of twenty years, pronounced a funeral oration.

V

MADEMOISELLE CONTAT

About the year 1770, a bright-eyed and lively little girl might frequently have been seen to steal behind the scenes of the Comédie-Française, and then, placing herself in some obscure corner, gaze with mingled awe and admiration at the great players as they made their entrances and exits. The father of little Louise Contat--for that was the child’s name--seems to have had some employment at the theatre,[144] and she had already gained some distinction in amateur performances. At the age of eleven, it was intended to send her out on tour with a wandering theatrical troupe, but, fortunately, she had already attracted the notice of the Prévilles, who adopted her, and the famous actor himself undertook to train her for the stage.[145] “Never,” says Fleury, “did pupil prove more worthy of such a master. The young actress did not master intuitively the secrets of an art which cannot be taught; but the great comedian, charmed with her precocious talent, facilitated her acquirement of those elements of diction, the _solfêggi_ of speech, so indispensable to a career on the stage.”[146]

On February 3, 1776, at the age of fifteen and a half, Louise Contat appeared at the Comédie-Française, as Atalide, in _Bajazet_. Her face and figure pleased the critics, but her talent made but little impression. “Mlle. Contat, has just made her _début_,” writes La Harpe, “with a pretty face, but no voice and little talent.” Nor was Grimm more favourable. “She is mediocre in tragedy,” writes he, “and her gestures are affected; but she has an agreeable face and intelligent eyes.” Subsequently, she played Zaïre and Junie, in _Britannicus_, but with hardly more success. In truth, she had no talent for tragedy, and it was only in compliance with the regulations of the theatre that she undertook such parts. When, however, she came to play comedy, particularly comedy of the light, vivacious kind, there was a different tale to tell. Then the careful lessons she had received from Préville, the greatest comedian of his time, bore fruit in several delightfully clever impersonations, which drew upon her the favourable attention of all lovers of really fine acting, and showed that nothing but experience was needed to make her a worthy successor to Mlle. Dangeville.

But, for some years, the girl’s opportunities for distinction were very limited, since no sooner did her rare talents begin to be suspected, than a cabal was organised to obstruct her progress. To begin with, her jealous rivals pitted against her Mlle. Vadé, the daughter of the poet who had bestowed upon Louis XV. the title of “_le Bien-Aimé_,” a young lady who had made her first appearance on the same evening as Mlle. Contat herself. Mlle. Vadé, however, had few pretensions to beauty, and still fewer to histrionic fame, and Mlle. Contat showed marked superiority to her opponent, even in the _jeunes princesses_; a circumstance which Préville took advantage of to secure for his pupil admission as a regular member of the company.

Nevertheless, the cabal, far from being discouraged by this rebuff, continued their machinations, and availed themselves of their seniority to exclude the young actress from every part which might afford her a chance of distinction. But, though the poor girl frequently quitted the stage in floods of tears, after the chilly reception which had been accorded her impersonation of some rôle utterly unsuited to her talents, in the end the malignity of her enemies defeated its own purpose. “It stimulated her,” says Fleury, “to prove how much she had been wronged. She exerted herself to give importance to the insignificant parts allotted to her, and this kind of feeling is a never-failing spur to the young artiste.”

And the time was now at hand when the administration of the Comédie-Française could no longer afford to ignore the claims of the younger members at the bidding of a group of jealous women, several of whom might be regarded as lights of other days. The Comédie-Italienne was now no longer Italian in anything but name; it had become the rival of the national theatre. This rivalry, which had begun in a very humble spirit--the “Italians” gave out that they wished merely to glean in the vast field wherein their brothers of the Comédie-Française reaped so abundantly--gradually developed into one of a very serious character. The “Italians” issued an address, announcing that Thalia, who heretofore had not dared to present herself on the boards of their theatre, except under the auspices of the goddess of harmony, had decided to assert her rights, reinforced their company by some excellent performers, amongst whom was Madame Verteuil, a lady who had earned a high reputation in the provinces, and produced some excellent comedies, whose success excited the gravest apprehension in the green-room of the Comédie-Française.

To present a bold front to this formidable attack, the administration of that theatre found themselves compelled to bring into the field all their forces and to give every encouragement to new talent. But the opposition to Mlle. Contat was so strong, that it was not until July 1782 that she was afforded an opportunity of exercising her abilities to the full and realising the promise which Préville had seen in her as a child.

So far back as the spring of 1775, Palissot had submitted to the Comédie-Française a play called _Les Courtisanes_. The actors rejected it, ostensibly on the ground that it was indelicate, but really, the author suspected, because he was the enemy of their friends, the philosophers. In reply to the ostensible reason, he applied for and obtained the approbation of the censor, Crébillon _fils_, not perhaps the person best fitted to discriminate between delicacy and indelicacy, since he was the author of some of the most licentious romances of the time, one of which, called _Le Sopha_, had so outraged Madame de Pompadour’s sense of propriety that she had caused the writer to be exiled from Paris. Nevertheless, the company held to their previous decision, at the same time addressing to the dramatist an impertinent letter. Out of consideration, for his feelings, they said, their first refusal had been based on the indelicacy of the piece. But the _Courtisanes_ possessed faults of another kind. It might, however, be performed, if M. Palissot could contrive to invest it with: (1) action; (2) interest; (3) taste; (4) a plot. In spite of this rebuff, the author had the play printed and, seven years later, through the mediation of the Archbishop of Paris, whom he had succeeded in persuading that his work would promote the cause of morality, Louis XVI. gave orders that it should be put into rehearsal, after suggesting some alterations in the dialogue.

The play was a success, a result largely due to Mlle. Contat’s admirable impersonation of the heroine, the courtesan Rosalie, for more than one of the situations was decidedly “risky,” while the fact that Sophanès, the villain of the piece--and a particularly odious villain--was a philosopher and man of letters by no means commended itself to many of the habitués of the pit.[147]

“Mlle. Contat,” wrote Grimm, “secured in the part of Rosalie a success which she had never yet obtained. The situation in the second act appeared to be carried a little further than stage decorum seems to permit of. But the situation is material to the plot, and, thanks to the charming figure of the heroine, it would have been difficult not to accord indulgence to the tableau. Moreover, it was tolerated, though not without some murmuring.”

From the performance of this comedy we may date the opening of Louise Contat’s theatrical career. In the following December, she secured another triumph as the heroine of Dubuisson’s _Vieux Garçon_, and Grimm wrote: “Mlle. Contat who makes every day fresh progress, appeared charming in the part of Sophie. At Easter 1783, on the retirement of the accomplished and virtuous Mlle. d’Oligny, the object of the eulogy of Fréron which excited Mlle. Clairon to so much indignation,[148] she succeeded to her _emploi_,” and secured daily fresh successes.[149]

But it was in the part of Suzanne in Beaumarchais’s immortal comedy, _Le Mariage de Figaro_, that Louise Contat was to attain celebrity. This play had been completed in 1781; but to write it was one thing, to get it produced was quite another. Louis XVI. read the manuscript himself and, though his political insight was none of the keenest, could not fail to recognise its dangerous tendencies. He pronounced it “detestable” and “unactable,” and, for more than two years, no argument could induce him to permit its being performed. It was in vain that Beaumarchais stimulated public curiosity to fever heat by frequent readings of his play, at his own house or in various fashionable salons. It was in vain that his friends at Court, headed by the Comte de Vaudreuil, one of the most prominent members of the Queen’s social circle,[150] allowed no opportunity to slip of extolling the merits of the work. The King remained adamant. Once indeed it seemed to the dramatist that the battle had all but been won. Thanks to the efforts of Vaudreuil, who had succeeded in gaining over Marie Antoinette to his side, the players suddenly received orders from Versailles to rehearse the play in secret for a private performance. Beaumarchais, after reading his piece to the assembled company, determined to consult Mlle. Contat as to the cast, the result being that Dazincourt was set down for Figaro, Molé for Almaviva, the same character which he had so successfully represented in the _Barbier de Seville_, Mlle. Sainval for the Countess, and pretty Mlle. Olivier for the Page; while Préville, who, conscious of failing memory and sprightliness, had refused the part of the Barber, contented himself with the comparatively unimportant rôle of Brid’oison. Finally, Mlle. Contat was entrusted with the all-important part of Suzanne, a choice which caused considerable astonishment, as, admirable though the young actress was as an _amoureuse_, she had never yet attempted anything of this kind. Mlle. Fanier, the senior soubrette, protested warmly against the nomination and claimed Suzanne for herself. But Beaumarchais, who had early recognised the high qualities of Mlle. Contat and had every confidence in her versatility, had from the first intended the part of the heroine for her, and would listen to no remonstrance. Nor had he any reason to regret his decision.

Everything being in readiness, it was decided that the performance should be given at the Théâtre des Menus-Plaisirs, where the Comte de Vaudreuil’s influence was paramount, on June 13, 1783. The interest it excited was intense. As the appointed hour drew near, the approaches to the theatre were blocked by hundreds of coaches; all the fashionable world seemed determined to be present. The consternation, therefore, may be imagined when a rumour began to spread that there would be no play that evening; that the King had forbidden the performance. At first, the gaily-dressed crowd was inclined to be incredulous. But a notice posted on the doors of the theatre confirmed the rumour, and sent them away, complaining bitterly of the “oppression” and “tyranny” of the King, who at the eleventh hour had sent orders, through his Minister of the Household, the Baron de Breteuil, prohibiting the representation of _Le Mariage de Figaro_ under pain of disobedience, and, the next day, caused the players to be summoned before the Lieutenant of Police, when the prohibition was repeated in a form employed by the royal authority only on the gravest occasions.

But Beaumarchais was not the man to despair. He withdrew to London, ostensibly on commercial business, but really, no doubt, to be out of the way the while Vaudreuil solicited and obtained the King’s consent to the _Mariage de Figaro_ being performed in the course of a fête which the count intended to give at his country-house at Gennevilliers. “The Comte d’Artois,” wrote the Duc de Fronsac to Beaumarchais from that place, “is coming to hunt here about the 18th (September), and the Duc de Polignac with his party to sup. Vaudreuil has consulted me as to giving them a play, as we have a capital room. I told him that he could not find a more charming one than the _Mariage de Figaro_. The King has given his consent, have we yours?”

Beaumarchais, on his return to Paris, duly gave his “consent,” but only on condition that the play should be re-examined. The royal veto, said he, had exposed his work to the charge of immorality, and until that stigma had been removed from it by a formal approbation, on no consideration would he allow it to be played. It was a masterly move, for while no censor would be likely to forbid an entertainment sanctioned by the King, the desired approbation, besides stimulating the curiosity of the public, would have the effect of covering his Majesty’s opposition to the piece with ridicule. One would have supposed that the authorities would have been sufficiently alert to detect the trap laid for them, but they walked into it without hesitation, and sent the manuscript to the historian Gaillard,[151] who reported to the Lieutenant of Police as follows:

“Allow me, Monsieur, to inform you of my opinion with regard to the comedy entitled _La Folle Journée, ou le Mariage de Figaro_. I have heard it read and read it myself with all the attention of which I am capable, and I confess that I see no danger in allowing it to be performed, when corrected in two places, and when some _mots_ have been suppressed, of which a malicious abuse or a dangerous and wicked application might be made. The piece is a very gay one; but when the gaieties, although approaching what are called ‘_gaudrioles_,’ are not indecent, they amuse without doing harm. Gay people are not dangerous, and State troubles, conspiracies, assassinations, and all the horrors we read of in history of all ages show us that they have been conceived, ripened, and executed by reserved, sad, and sullen people. The piece is besides called _La Folle Journée_, and Figaro, the hero of that piece, is known in the comedy of the _Barbier de Seville_, of which this is a continuation, as one of those intriguers of the lower class, whose examples are not dangerous for any man of the world. Besides, I think that by raising objections to things of little importance, as if they were dangerous, a value is imparted to them which they themselves do not possess, and foolish or ill-natured people are inspired with a fear or suspicion of danger, which has no reality.”

Then, after having proposed two suppressions, one of the word “minister,” the other of a passage alluding to the judgment of Solomon, Gaillard concludes thus:

“This piece appears to be well written. The personages speak as they ought, according to their station, and I think it very likely to attract more spectators to the Comédie and, consequently, what it most requires--large receipts.”[152]

* * * * *