CHAPTER I

Chronology of the drama--Mademoiselle Georges Weymer--Mademoiselle Raucourt--Legouvé and his works--Marie-Joseph Chénier--His letter to the company of the Comédie-Française--Young boys _perfectionnés_ --Ducis--His work

Now the Royalist reaction of which we were speaking--before we interrupted ourselves to address the high public functionaries who had the honour of appearing before our readers in the last chapter--did not only strike at literary men, but it hit out cruelly, bitterly and mortally at public men. It began by the expulsion of Manuel from the Chamber; it closed with the execution of Riégo. But I must confess I was not so much occupied at that time with the quarrels of the Chamber, or the Spanish War, or the fête that Madame de Cayla (who was very kind to me later) gave to Saint-Ouen to celebrate the return of Louis XVIII., or the death of Pope Pius VII.; there were two events which were quite as important to my thinking: the first production of Lucien Arnault's _Pierre de Portugal_, and that of the _École des Vieillards_, by Casimir Delavigne. Although the dramatic statistics for the year 1823 showed a total production of 209 new plays and of 161 authors acted, the best theatres, especially during the first nine months of the year, presented but a sorry show, and were very far removed from reaching the level of the preceding year.

Thus, on 26 April, 1822, the Odéon had produced _Attila_ by M. Hippolyte Bis. On 5 June the Théâtre-Français played Lucien Arnault's _Régulus._ On 14 June the Odéon played the _Macchabées_ by M. Guiraud: Frédérick Lemaître, who belonged to the Cirque, played one of the brothers Macchabées. On 7 November the Théâtre-Français produced M. Soumet's _Clytemnestre_, in which Talma gave a realistic representation of the tragic and unhappy fate of Orestes. On 9 November the Odéon put on its boards the same author's _Saül,_ in which Joanny first began to make his reputation. Finally, on 21 December, the Théâtre-Français produced _Valérie_, by MM. Scribe and Mélesville. As against all these new plays, the year 1823 only offered us the comedy of l'_Éducation ou les Deux Cousines_ by M. Casimir Bonjour, and _Comte Julien_ by M. Guiraud.

_L'Éducation ou les Deux Cousines_ is M. Casimir Bonjour's best comedy; but M. Casimir Bonjour's best comedy had the option of being a feeble production, and it exercised that option.

While _Comte Julien_ was honest, careful work, as were all the author's plays, its principal attraction was that the company acting it contained Mademoiselle Georges, who made her reappearance in Paris after an absence of four or five years. Mademoiselle Georges was extremely beautiful at that period, and still had _all her diamonds._ Those who knew Harel and the fantastic posters he invented know the part which Mademoiselle Georges' diamonds played in the rôles Mademoiselle Georges acted.

I have told my readers that as celebrated characters appear in these Memoirs I will describe them all as clearly as I can, in the light of contemporary knowledge; some of them only shone for a very short time and their light is now extinguished for ever. But what I have to say about them will be all the more interesting on that account, for what follows describes my first impressions of them, when they were in the zenith of their popularity.

We have remarked that the age of any living actress is not to be known; but reckoning from the year when Mademoiselle Georges made her début--that is to say, from 29 November 1802--she must have been thirty-eight in 1823. Just a word to explain how Mademoiselle Georges gained access to the theatre and how she managed to remain on the boards. Loved by Bonaparte, and retained in his favour when he became Napoleon, Mademoiselle Georges, who begged to be allowed to accompany Napoleon to Saint-Helena, is almost a historical personage.

Towards the close of the year 1800 and the beginning of 1801 Mademoiselle Raucourt, who was leading lady in tragedy at the Théâtre-Français, went on tour in the provinces. This was at a time when although Government had plenty to do, it was not ashamed to concern itself with the arts in its spare moments. Mademoiselle Raucourt had therefore received orders from the Government to look out for any pupil during her tour whom she might think worth instruction, and to bring her back to Paris. This young lady was to be considered the pupil of the Government, and would receive a grant of 1200 francs.

Mademoiselle Raucourt stopped at Amiens. There she discovered a beautiful young girl of fifteen years of age who looked to be eighteen; you might have thought that the Venus of Milo had descended from her pedestal. Mademoiselle Raucourt, who was almost as classic in her tastes as the Lesbian Sappho, admired statuesque beauty immensely. When she saw the way this young girl walked--her gait that of the goddess, to use Virgil's phrase--the actress made inquiries and found that her name was Georges Weymer; that she was the daughter of a German musician named Georges Weymer, manager of the theatre, and of Mademoiselle Verteuil the actress who played the chambermaid parts.

This young lady was destined for tragedy. Mademoiselle Raucourt made her play Élise, with her, in _Didon_, and Aricie in _Phèdre._ The experiment succeeded, and the very night of the performance of _Phèdre,_ Mademoiselle Raucourt asked the young tragédienne's parents' leave to take her.

The prospect of being a Government pupil, and, better still, the pupil of Mademoiselle Raucourt, was, with the exception of some slight drawbacks in the way of regulations to which the young girl had perforce to agree, too tempting an offer in the eyes of her parents to be refused. The request was granted, and Mademoiselle Georges departed, followed by her mother. The lessons lasted eighteen months. During these eighteen months the young pupil lived in a poor hotel in the rue Croix-des-Petits-Champs, which, probably ironically, was named the _hôtel du Pérou._

Mademoiselle Raucourt lived at the end of the allée des Veuves, in a magnificent house which had belonged to Madame Tallien and which, no doubt also ironically, was called _The Cottage (la Chaumière)._ We have called Mademoiselle Georges' residence "a magnificent house": we should also have said "a small house," for it was a perfect specimen of a bijou villa in the style of Louis XV.

Towards the end of the eighteenth century--that strange epoch when people called things by their right names--Sapho-Raucourt enjoyed a reputation the originality of which she took not the least pains to hide.

Mademoiselle Raucourt's attitude towards men was more than indifference, it was hatred. The writer of these lines has in his possession a memorandum signed by this famous actress which is a regular war-cry against the masculine sex, and in which the modern Queen of the Amazons calls upon every lovely warrior enrolled under her orders to open rupture with men.

Nothing could be more odd than the form and, above all, the subject-matter of this manifesto. And yet, strange to relate, in spite of this contempt towards us, Mademoiselle Raucourt, whenever the costume of her sex was not indispensable to her, adopted that of our sex. Thus, very often, in the morning, Mademoiselle Raucourt gave lessons to her beautiful pupil in trousers, with a dressing-gown over them,--just as M. Molé or M. Fleury would have done,--a pretty woman by her side who addressed her as "dear fellow," and a charming child who called her "papa."

We did not know Mademoiselle Raucourt,--she died in 1814, and her funeral created a great sensation,--but we knew her mother, who died in 1832 or 1833; and we still know the _childy_ who is to-day a man of fifty-five.

We were acquainted with an actor whose whole career was blighted by Mademoiselle Raucourt on account of some jealousy he had the misfortune to arouse in the terrible Lesbian. Mademoiselle Raucourt appealed to the Committee of the Théâtre-Français, reminded them of her rights of possession and of priority in respect of the girl whom the impertinent comedian wished to seduce from her, and, the priority and the possession being recognised, the impudent comedian, who is still living and is one of the most straightforward men imaginable, was hounded out of the theatre, the members of the company believing that, as in the case of Achilles, Mademoiselle Raucourt, because of this modern Briseis, would retire in sulks.

Let us return to the young girl, whose mother never left her a single instant during the visits she paid to her teacher: three times a week had she to traverse the long distance between the rue Croix-des-Petits-Champs and the allée des Veuves in order to take her lessons. Her first appearances were fixed to take place at the end of November. They were to be in _Clytemnestre_, in _Émilie,_ in _Aménaïde_, in _Idamé_, in _Didon_ and in _Sémiramis._

A début at the Théâtre-Français in 1802 was a great affair both for the artiste and for the public; it was a still greater matter to be received into the company; for if one joined the troupe, it meant, in the case of a man, becoming a colleague of Monvel, of Saint-Prix, of Baptiste senior, of Talma, of Lafond, of Saint-Phal, of Molé, of Fleury, of Armand, of Michot, of Grandménil, of Dugazon, of Dazincourt, of Baptiste junior, of la Rochelle; in the case of a woman, one became the companion of Mademoiselle Raucourt, of Mlle. Contat, of Mlle. Devienne, Mlle. Talma, of Mlle. Fleury, of Mlle. Duchesnois, of Mlle. Mézeray, of Mlle. Mars.

The authors of this period were: Legouvé, Lemercier, Arnault, Alexandre Duval, Picard, Chénier and Ducis. Of these seven men I knew four: Arnault, whose portrait I have attempted to draw; Lemercier and Alexandre Duval, whose splenetic likenesses I shall try to describe in due season; then came Picard, who was called the friend of youth, but who detested young people. Legouvé, Chénier and Ducis were dead when I came to Paris.

Legouvé was very influential at the Théâtre-Français. He it was who, when Mademoiselle Georges made her first appearance, was directing the débuts of Mademoiselle Duchesnois with an almost fatherly affection; he had produced the _Mort d'Abel_ in 1793, a patriarchal tragedy which owed its success, first to the talent of the author, secondly and more especially, to its opposition to current events. It was played between the execution of Louis XVI. and that of Marie-Antoinette, between the September Massacres and the execution of the Girondists; it distracted people's minds for the moment from the sight of the blood which flowed down the gutters. When they had witnessed all day long bodies hanging from the lamp-posts and heads carried on the ends of pikes, they were not sorry to spend their evening with shepherds and shepherdesses. Nero crowned himself with roses and sang Ionic verses after watching Rome burn.

In 1794 Legouvé had produced _Épicharis._ The last act contained a very fine monologue, which he certainly had not created himself, but which he had borrowed from a page of Mercier. This final act made the success of the play. I heard Talma declaim the monologue in his pompous style.

Finally, in 1799, Legouvé had produced _Étéocle. Étéocle_ was a failure, or nearly so; and, seeing this, instead of providing a fresh tragedy for the Théâtre-Français, Legouvé introduced a new tragic actress. Mademoiselle Duchesnois had just completed her exceedingly successful début when Mademoiselle Georges made her first appearance.

As I have promised to speak in due course of Lemercier, Alexandre Duval and Picard, I will now finish what I have to say about Chénier and Ducis, of whom I shall probably not have occasion to speak again.

Marie-Joseph Chénier possessed singular conceit. I have a dozen of his letters before me, written about _Charles IX._; I will pick out one which is a model of naïvete: it will show from what standpoint men whom certain critics have the audacity to call masters, and who probably are masters in their eyes, look upon historic tragedy.

The letter was addressed to French comedians: it was intended to make them again take up _Charles IX.,_ which those gentlemen refused absolutely to play. Why did not French comedians want to play _Charles IX.,_ since _Charles IX._ made money? Ah! I must whisper the reason in your ear, or rather, say it out loud: it was because Talma's part in it was such an enormous success. Here is the letter:--

"Pressed on all sides, gentlemen, by the friends of liberty, several of whom are of the number of confederated deputies, to give at once a few representations of _Charles IX.,_ I ask you to announce the thirty-fourth appearance of this tragedy on your play-bills, for one day next week, independently of another work that I have composed to celebrate the anniversary of the Federation.

You may like to know that I intend to add _several lines applicable to this interesting event,_ in the part of the Chancellor of the Hospital, for I am always anxious to pay my tribute as a citizen; and you, gentlemen, could not show your patriotism on this occasion in a better way than by playing the only _truly national_ tragedy which still exists in France, a tragedy philosophical in subject, and worthy of the stage, even in the opinion of M. de Voltaire, who, you will admit, knew what he was talking about. In this tragedy I have made a point of _sounding the praises of the citizen king_ who governs us to-day.--Accept my sincere regards," etc.

Can you imagine the Chancellor of the Hospital lauding the Fete of the Federation, and Charles IX. singing the praises of Louis XVI.?

Ah well!...

Chénier had made his début in _Charles IX.,_ which he wanted to have reproduced, and its reproduction caused Danton and Camille Desmoulins to be taken before the police magistrate, accused of having got up conspiracies in the pit. _Henri VIII._ followed _Charles IX._ with similar success. Two years after _Henri VIII., Calas_ was produced. Finally, on 9 January 1793, at the height of Louis XVI.'s trial, and some days before that poor king's death, Chénier produced _Fénélon,_, a rose-water tragedy, of the same type as the _Mort d'Abel_, which had that kind of success one's friends term a triumph, and one's enemies a failure.

Chénier counted on reviving his success by _Timoléon_. But Robespierre, who had heard the work talked of, read it and stopped it. Listen, you wielders of the Censorship! Robespierre trod in your footsteps; he stopped _Timoléon_ as your confrères, before him, had stopped _Tartufe_ to no purpose; _Mahomet_, to no purpose; _Mariage de Figaro_, to no purpose; and so we come at last to you, who have stopped _Pinto_ to no purpose, _Marion Delorme_ to no purpose, and _Antony_ to no purpose.

Robespierre, we repeat, stopped _Timoléon_, declaring that, as long as he was alive, the piece should never be played. Yes, but Robespierre proved himself ignorant of the temper of the age in which he and his contemporaries lived; he counted without 9 Thermidor.... Robespierre followed Danton to the scaffold, and _Timoléon_ was played.

Unfortunately, two days before Robespierre, death claimed the sweet-voiced swan whom men called André Chénier, a poet even as his brother, though of a different make, and no writer of tragedies.

How was it that Marie-Joseph Chénier found time to look after the rehearsals of his tragedy, so soon after Thermidor, and immediately upon the death of his brother?

Ah! André was only his brother, and _Timoléon_ was his child.

But many-headed Nemesis was watching over the forgotten poet and preparing a terrible vengeance. _Timoléon_ killed his brother, and Chénier was accused of not having saved his.

Cries were raised for the name of the author.

"No need!" cried a voice from the pit. "The author's name is _Cain_!"

From that day Chénier renounced the theatre, although there were rumours of two plays lying waiting to come forth some day from his portfolio, called _Tibère_ and _Philippe II._

Ducis succeeded Chénier.

After the death of Beaumarchais--who had written two charming comedies of intrigue and three poor dramas--Ducis became the patriarch of literature.

There was in Rome, under all the popes down to the days of Gregory XVI., who had them removed, a sign over certain surgeon's doors with the inscription--

"Ici on _perfectionne_ les petits garçons."

The reader will understand what that means: parents who desired that their boys should remain beardless, and possess pretty voices, took their children to these establishments, and by a twist of the hand they were ... _perfectionnés_.

Ducis did to Sophocles and to Shakespeare pretty much what Roman surgeons did to small boys. Those who like smooth chins and sweet voices may prefer the _Œdipe-roi, Œdipe à Colone, Hamlet, Macbeth, Roméo and Juliet_ and _Othello_ of Ducis, to the _Œdipus_ of Sophocles and the _Hamlet, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet_ and _Othello_ of Shakespeare; but we must confess that we like Nature in all her virility, that we think the stronger a man is, the more beautiful he is and that we prefer entire dramas to castrated ones: this being so, whether in the case of small boys or of tragedies, we hold all _perfectionnement_ to be sacrilege. But let us give Ducis his due. He led the way to Sophocles by a poor road, to Shakespeare by a narrow path; but, at all events, he left those guide-posts by the way, which Voltaire had taken such pains to remove. When Voltaire made a veil for Zaire out of Desdemona's handkerchief, he was very careful to obliterate the mark on the linen he stole. This was more than imitation--it was theft.

In the period that elapsed between 1769 and 1795, Ducis produced _Hamlet, Œdipe chez Admète, King Lear, Macbeth, Othello_ and _Abufar._ This was the condition of the Théâtre-Français, this was the state of French literature, in the year of grace 1802, when Napoleon Bonaparte was First Consul, and Cambacérès and Lebrun were assistant consuls.