CHAPTER V

M. Arnault's _Pertinax_--_Pizarre_, by M. Fulchiron--M. Fulchiron as a politician--M. Fulchiron as magic poet--A word about M. Viennet--My opposite neighbour at the performance of _Pertinax_--Splendid failure of the play--Quarrel with my _vis-à-vis_--The newspapers take it up--My reply in the _Journal de Paris_--Advice of M. Pillet

Alas! there are two things for which I have searched in vain! And verily, God knows, how thoroughly I search when I begin! These are Firmin's answer to M. Arnault and the tragedy of _Pertinax._ Neither answer nor tragedy exist any longer. Why _Pertinax?_ What is _Pertinax?_ And what is the successor to Commodus doing here? Rather ask what the unfortunate being was doing at the Théâtre-Français! He fell there beneath the hissings of the pit, as he fell beneath the swords of the prætorians. Here is the history of his second death, his second fall. After a lapse of seventeen years I cannot say much about the first; but, after an interval of twenty-four years, I can relate the second, at which I was present.

After those unlucky _Guelfes_ had obstinately remained on the bills for nine months they finally disappeared. M. Arnault demanded compensation for Firmin's defective memory. The committee decided that, although _Pertinax_ had only been received eleven years ago, it should be put in rehearsal.

Eleven years ago? You repeat, and you think I am mistaken, do you not? But it is you who are mistaken. _Arbogaste_, by M. Viennet, received in 1825, was only played in 1841! _Pizarre_, by M. Fulchiron, received in 1803, has not yet been played! Let me put in a parenthesis in favour of poor _Pizarre_ and the unfortunate M. Fulchiron.

M. Fulchiron, you know him well?--Yes. Well, then, he had had a tragedy, _Pizarre_, received at the Comédie-Française in the month of August 1803--Ah! really? And what has the Comédie-Française been doing the last fifty years?--It has not played M. Fulchiron's tragedy. And what did this same M. Fulchiron do during those fifty years?--He asked to have his piece played. Come! come! come!--What more could you expect? Hope supported him! They had promised it, when they accepted it, that it would have its turn.

Those are the actual words! Look at the registers of the Comédie-Française if you don't believe me. True, the police of the Consulate suspended the work; but the censorship of the Empire was better informed as to the tragedy and returned it to its author.

Hence it arose that, contrary to the opinion of many people who preferred the First Consul to the Emperor, M. Fulchiron preferred the Emperor to the First Consul.

During the whole of the Empire,--that is to say, from 1805 to 1814--during the whole of the Restoration--that is to say, from 1815 to 1830--M. Fulchiron wrote, begged, prayed with, it must be admitted, that gentleness which is indissolubly bound up with his real character. In 1830, M. Fulchiron became a politician. Then he had an excuse to offer. To his friends--M. Fulchiron actually took those people for his friends! think of it!--who asked him--

"Why, then, dear Monsieur Fulchiron, did you not get your _Pizarre_ played when so many good things had been said about it for a long time?"

He replied--"Because I am a politician, and one cannot be both a politician and a man of letters at the same time."

"Bah! look at M. Guizot, M. Villemain, M. Thiers!"

"M. Guizot, M. Villemain and M. Thiers have their own ideas on the subject; I have mine."

"Oh! influence in high quarters, then!"

M. Fulchiron blushed and smiled; then, with that air which M. Viennet puts on, when talking of Louis-Philippe, he said, _Mon illustre ami_--

"Well, yes," replied M. Fulchiron, "the king took hold of the button of my coat, which is a habit of his, as you know."

"No, I did not know."

"Ah! that is because you are not one of the frequenters of the château."

"There are people who lay great stress on being intimates of a château! You understand?"

"When he took me by my coat button," continued M. Fulchiron, "the king said to me, 'My dear Fulchiron, in spite of the beauties it contains, do not have your tragedy played.' 'But why not?' 'How can one make a man a minister who has written a tragedy?' 'Sire, the Emperor Napoléon said, "If Corneille had lived in my day, I should have made him a prince!" 'I am not the Emperor Napoléon, and you are not Corneille.' 'Nevertheless, sire, when one has had a tragedy calling from the deeps for the last thirty years ...' 'You shall read it to me, M. Fulchiron ...' 'Ah! sire, your Majesty's desires are commands. When would your Majesty like me to read _Pizarre?_' Some day ... when all these devils of Republicans leave me a bit of respite!'"

The Republicans never left Louis-Philippe, who, you will agree, was an intelligent man, any respite. That is why M. Fulchiron hated Republicans so much. What! was that the reason? Yes! You thought that M. Fulchiron hated Republicans because they tended to usurp power, to disturb order, to put, as Danton expressed it in his curt description of the Republic, _à mettre dessus ce qui est dessous?_ You are mistaken; M. Fulchiron hated Republicans because by means of all their riots--their 5 June, _14_ April, etc. etc. etc.--upon my word, I forget all the dates!--they prevented him from reading his play to Louis-Philippe. So, on 24 February 1848, however devoted he seemed to be to the established government, M. Fulchiron allowed Louis-Philippe to fall.

See on what slender threads hang great events! If Louis-Philippe had heard the reading of _Pizarre_, M. Fulchiron would have supported the Government of July, and perhaps Louis-Philippe might still be on the throne. So, after the fall of Louis-Philippe, M. Fulchiron was as happy as the Prince of Monaco when they took away his principality from him.

"My political career is a failure," says M. Fulchiron, "and you see me once more a literary man! I shall not be a minister, but I will be an academician."

"Indeed!" say you; "then why is not M. Fulchiron an academician?"

"Because _Pizarre_ has not been played."

"Good! Was not M. Dupaty received into the Academy on condition that his tragedy _Isabelle_ should not be played?"

"Oh! really?"

"They were already sufficiently troubled by the fact that his _Seconde Botanique_ had been played! That youthful indiscretion delayed his entry for ten years ... But ten years are not fifty."

So M. Fulchiron began to be impatient, as impatient, that is, as he can be. From time to time he appears at the Théâtre-Français, and, with that smile which, it seems to me, should prevent anyone from refusing him anything, he says--

"About my _Pizarre_, it must be high time they were putting it in hand!"

"Monsieur," says Verteuil to him--the secretary of the Comédie-Française, a clever fellow, whom we have already had occasion to mention, through whose hands many plays pass, but who does not compose any himself--"Monsieur, they are even now busy with it."

"Ah! very good!"

And M. Fulchiron's smile becomes still more winning.--

"Yes, and as soon as M. Viennet's _Achille_, now under rehearsal, has been played, _Pizarre_ will occupy the stage."

"But, if I remember rightly, M. Viennet's _Achille_ was only accepted in 1809, and, consequently, I have the priority."

"Doubtless; but M. Viennet had two _tours de faveur_ and you only one."

"Then I was wrong to complain."

And M. Fulchiron goes away always smiling, takes his visiting-card in person to M. Viennet, and writes in pencil on it these few words, "Dear colleague, hasten your rehearsals of _Achille!_"

Thus he leaves his card with M. Viennet's porter, the same porter who informed the said M. Viennet that he was a peer of France; and M. Viennet, who is horribly spiteful, has not bowed to M. Fulchiron since the second card. He treats the seven pencilled words of M. Fulchiron as an epigram and says to everybody--

"Fulchiron may, perhaps, be a Martial, but I swear he is not an Æschylus!"

And M. Fulchiron, his arms hung down, continues to walk abroad and through life, as Hamlet says, never doubting that if he is no Æschylus it is all owing to M. Viennet.[1]

I will close my parenthesis about M. Fulchiron, and return to M. Arnault and _Pertinax_, which the ungrateful prompter, in spite of the dedicatory epistle to the _Guelfes_, has never called anything but _Père Tignace_ (Daddy Tignace).

_Pertinax_, then, was played as some compensation for the disappearance of the _Guelfes._ Oh! what a pity it is that _Pertinax_ has not been printed! How I would like to have given you specimens of it and then you would understand the merriment of the pit! All I recollect is, that at the decisive moment the Emperor Commodus called for his secretary. I had in front of me a tall man whose broad shoulders and thick locks hid the actor from me every time he happened to be in the line of sight. Unluckily, I did not possess the scissors of Sainte-Foix. By his frantic applause I gathered that this gentleman understood many things which I did not. The upshot of it was that, when the Emperor Commodus called his secretary, the play upon words seemed to me to require an explanation, and I leant over towards the gentleman in front, and, with all the politeness I could command, I said to him--

"Pardon me, monsieur, but it seems to me that this is a _pièce à tiroirs!_" (Comedy made up of unconnected episodes.)

He jumped up in his stall, uttered a sort of roar but controlled himself. True, the curtain was on the point of falling, and before it had actually fallen our enthusiast was shouting with all his might--"Author!"

Unfortunately, everybody was by no means as eager to know the author as was my neighbour in front. Something like three-quarters of the house--and, perhaps, among these were M. Arnault's own friends--did not at all wish him to be named. Placed in the orchestra between M. de Jouy and Victor Hugo, feeling, on my left, the elbows of Romanticism and, on my right, those of _Classicism_, if I may be allowed to coin a word, I waited patiently and courageously until they stopped hissing, just as M. Arnault had acted towards me in turning the cold shoulder towards me after _Henri III._, leaving me the privilege of neutrality.

But man proposes and God disposes. God, or rather the devil, inspired the neighbour to whom I had perhaps put an indiscreet, although very innocent question, to point me out to his friends, and, consequently, to M. Arnault, as the Æolus at whose signal all the winds had been let loose which blew from the four cardinal points of the theatre in such different ways. A quarrel ensued between me and the tall man, a quarrel which instantly made a diversion in the strife that was going on. Next day all the journals gave an account of this quarrel, with their usual impartiality, generosity and accuracy towards me. It was imperative that I should reply. I chose the _Journal de Paris_ in which to publish my reply; it was edited, at that period, by the father of Léon Pillet, a friend of mine. Therefore, the following day, the _Journal de Paris_ published my letter, preceded and followed by a few bitter and sweet lines. This is the exordium. After my letter will come the peroration.

"In reporting the failure which the tragedy of _Pertinax_ met with at the hands of the critics, we mentioned that a dispute took place in the centre of the orchestra. M. Alexandre Dumas, one of the actors in this little drama, which was more exciting than the one that had preceded it, has addressed a letter to us on this subject. We hasten to publish it without wishing to constitute ourselves judges of the accompanying accusations which the author of _Henri III._ brings against the newspapers.

"'_Friday_, 29 _May_ 1829

'In spite of the fixed resolution I had taken and have adhered to until to-day, of never replying to what the papers say of me, I think it my duty to ask you to insert this letter in your next issue. It is a reply to the short article which forms the complement of the account in your issue of yesterday, in which you give an account of _Pertinax._ Your article is couched in these terms--

"'"_As we were leaving the house, a lively contest arose in the orchestra, between an old white-haired man and a very youthful author, in other words, doubtless, between a 'classic' and a 'romantic.' Let us hope that that altercation will not lead to unpleasant consequences._"

"'It is I, monsieur, who have the misfortune to be the _very youthful author_, to whom it is of great importance, from the very fact of his being young and an author, that he should lay down the facts exactly as they happened. I was in the orchestra of the Français, between M. de Jouy and M. Victor Hugo, during the whole of the performance of _Pertinax._ Obliged, in a manner, as a student of art and as a student of all that which makes masters to listen, I had listened attentively and in silence to the five acts which had just concluded, when, in the middle of the lively dispute that was going on between some spectators who wished M. Arnault to be called and others who did not, I was impudently apostrophised, whilst sitting quite silent, by a friend of M. Arnault, who stood up and pointed at me with his finger. I will repeat what he said word for word--

"'"_It is not surprising that they are hissing in the orchestra when M. Dumas is there. Are you not ashamed, monsieur, to make yourself the ringleader of a cabal?_"

"'"And when I replied that I had not said one word, he added--

"'"_That does not matter, it is you who direct the whole league!_"

"'As some persons may believe this stupid accusation I have appealed to the testimony of MM. de Jouy and Victor Hugo. This testimony is, as it was inevitable that it would be, unanimous.

"'That is enough, I think, to exonerate myself. But, whilst I have the pen in my hand, monsieur, as it is probably the first and, perhaps, the last time that I write to a newspaper.[2] I desire to add a few words relative to the absurd attacks my drama of _Henri III._ has brought down on me; such a favourable occasion as this one may, perhaps, never present itself again: allow me, therefore, to take advantage of it.

"'I think I understand, and I honestly believe that I accept, true literary criticism as well as anyone. But, seriously, monsieur, are the facts I have just quoted really literary criticism?

"'The day after the reception of my drama _Henri III._ at the Comédie-Française, the _Courrier des Théâtres_, which did not know the work, denounced it to the censorship, in the hope, so it was said, that the censor would not suffer the scandal of such a performance. That seems to me rather a matter for the police than for literature. Is it not so, monsieur? I will not speak of a petition which was presented to the king during my rehearsals pleading that the Théâtre-Français should return to the road of the _really beautiful._[3]

"'It is stated that the august personage to whom it was addressed replied simply, "_What can I do in a question of this nature? I only have a place in the pit, like all other Frenchmen._" I have not really the courage to be angered against the signatories of a denunciation which has brought us such a reply. Besides, several of us would have blushed, since, for what they had done, and have said that they thought they were signing quite a different thing. Then came the day of the representation. It will be granted that, on that day alone, the newspapers had the right to speak of the work. They made great use of their privileges; but several of them, as they themselves confessed, were not choice in their style of criticism. The _Constitutionnel_ and the _Corsaire_ said much kinder things the first day than the play deserved. A week later, the _Constitutionnel_ compared the play with the _Pie Voleuse_, and accused the author of having danced a round dance in the green room of the Comédie-Française with some wild fanatics, about the bust of Racine--which stands with its back against the wall--shouting, "_Racine is done for_!" This was merely ridicule, and people shrugged their shoulders. The next day, the _Corsaire_ said that the work was a monstrosity, and that the author was a Jesuit and a pensioner. This, it must be admitted, was an excellent joke, addressed to the son of a Republican general whose mother never received the pension which, it seems, was due to her, whether from the government of the Empire or from the king's government. This was more than ridicule, it was contemptible. As for the _Gazette de France_, I will do it the justice of saying that it has not varied for an instant from the opinion that M. de Martainville expressed in it on the first day. This journal made out that there was a flagrant conspiracy in the play against the throne and the altar; while the journalist expressed the liveliest regret that he had not seen the author appear when he was called for. "People declare," he said, "that _his face has a typically romantic air about it._" Now, as Romanticism is M. de Martainville's _bête noire_, I can believe, without being too punctilious, that he had no intention of paying me a compliment. It is not merely impolite on M. de Martainville's part, but, worse still, it is indelicate: M. de Martainville is very well aware that one can make one's reputation but that one cannot make one's own physiognomy. His own physiognomy is extremely respectable. I could go on explaining the causes of these alterations and insults, and make known various sufficiently curious anecdotes concerning certain individuals; still more could I ... But the twelve columns of your newspaper would not suffice. I will therefore conclude my letter, monsieur, by asking advice of you, since you have great experience. What ought an author to do in order to spare himself the quarrels arising out of first performances? I have had three of this nature during the last three months;--three quarrels, that is to say: had it been three representations I should not have survived!

"'One concerning _Isabelle de Bavière_, with an admirer of M. de Lamothe-Langon, who made out that I had hissed. One at the _Élections_, with an enemy of M. de Laville, who contended that I had applauded. Lastly, one at _Pertinax_ with a friend of M. Arnault, because I neither clapped nor hissed. I await your kind advice, monsieur, and I give you my word that I will follow it, if it be anyway possible for me to do so.--I have the honour, etc.'"

After the last line of the above, the _Journal de Paris_ attempted a sort of reply--

"As to the advice which M. Alexandre Dumas is kind enough to ask us to give because of our experience concerning the line of conduct he should take to avoid disputes at first-night performances, we will reply to him that a young author, happy in the enjoyment of a real success, and who knows how to conceal his joyous pride beneath suitable modesty; a _student of art_ who, like M. Dumas, gives himself up to the study of _the works of masters_, including, therein, the author of _Pertinax_,--does not need to fear insulting provocations. If, in spite of these dispositions, natural, no doubt, to the character of M. Dumas, people persist on picking these Teuton or classic quarrels with him, I should advise him to treat them with contempt, the quarrels, I mean, not the Teutons or the classics. Or, indeed, there is another expedient left him: namely, to abstain from going to first performances."

The advice, it will be admitted, was difficult, if not impossible, to follow. I was too young, and my heart was too near my head, I had, as is vulgarly said, "la tête trop près du bonnet" _i.e._ I was too hot-headed, to treat quarrels with contempt, whether with Teutons or classics, and I was too inquisitive not to attend first nights regularly. I have since been cured of this latter disease; but it has been for want of time. And yet, it is not so much lack of time which has cured me; it is the first performances themselves.

NOTE

I have an apology to make concerning M. Fulchiron. It seems I was in error, not about the date of the reception of _Pizarre_; not upon the turn of favour[4] which led to the performance of that piece in 1803; not, finally, upon the darkness of the spaces of Limbo in which it balanced with eyes half shut, between death and life--but about the cause which prevented it from being played in 1803.

First of all, let me say that no one claimed again in respect of M. Fulchiron, not even he himself. If he had claimed again, my pleasantries would have pained him, and then, I confess, I should have been as sad as, and even sadder than, he, to have given occasion for a protest on the part of so honourable a man and, above all, so unexacting an author. This is what happened.

One day, recently, when entering the green room at the Théâtre-Français, where I was having a little comedy called _Romulus_ rehearsed, which, in spite of its title, had nothing to do with the founder of Rome, I was accosted by Régnier, who plays the principal part in the work.

"Ah!" he said, "is that you?... I am delighted to see you!"

"And I to see you ... Have you some good advice to give me about my play?"

I should tell you that, in theatrical matters, Régnier gives the wisest advice I know.

"Not about your play," he replied, "but about yourself."

"Oh come, my dear fellow! I would have shaken hands with you for advice about my play; but for personal advice, I will embrace you."

"You lay great stress on being impartial?"

"Why! You might as well ask me if I am keen on living."

"And when you have been unjust you are very anxious to repair your injustice?"

'Indeed I am!"

"Then, my dear friend, you have been unfair to M. Fulchiron: repair your injustice."

"What! Was his tragedy by chance received in 1804, instead of 1803, as I thought?"

"No."

"Will it be played without my knowing anything about it, as was M. Viennet's _Arbogaste?_"

"No, but M. Fulchiron has given his turn of favour to a young briefless barrister, who wrote a tragedy in his spare moments. M. Raynouard was the barrister; _Les Templiers_ was the tragedy."

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"I am going to give you proof of it."

"How will you do that?"

"Come upstairs with me to the archives."

"Show me the way."

Régnier walked in front and I followed him as Dante's Barbariceia followed Scarmiglione, but without making so much noise as he.

Five minutes later, we were among the archives, and Régnier asked M. Laugier, the keeper of the records of the Théâtre-Français, for the file of autograph letters from M. Fulchiron. M. Laugier gave them to him. I was going to carry them off, and I stretched out my hand with that intention, when Régnier snatched them back from me as one snatches a bit of pie-crust from a clever dog who does not yet know how to count nine properly.

"Well?" I asked him.

"Wait."

He pressed the palm of his hand on M. Fulchiron's letters, which were encased in their yellow boards. Please note carefully that the epithet is not a reproach; I know people who, after fifty years of age, are yellow in a quite different sense from that of M. Fulchiron's letter-book backs.

"You must know, first of all, my dear friend," continued Régnier, "that formerly, particularly under the Empire, as soon as they produced a new tragedy the receipts decreased."

"I conjecture so; but I am very glad to know it officially."

"The result is that the committee of the Comédie-Française had great difficulty in deciding to play fresh pieces."

"I can imagine so----"

"A turn was therefore a precious possession."

"A thing which had no price!" as said Lagingeole.

"Very well, now read that letter of M. Fulchiron's."

I took the paper from Régnier's hands and read as follows--

"_To the Members of the Administrative Committee of the Comédie-Française_

"GENTLEMEN,--I have just learnt that the préfect has given his permission to the _Templiers._ Desiring to do full justice and to pay all respect to that work and to its author, which they deserve, I hasten to tell you that I give up my turn to the tragedy; but, at the same time, I ask that mine shall be taken up immediately after, so that the second tragedy which shall be played, reckoning from this present time, shall be _one of mine_; if you will have the kindness to give me an actual promise of this in writing, it will confirm my definite abandonment of my turn.--I remain, gentlemen, respectfully yours, "FULCHIRON, fils"

"Ah! but," said I to Régnier, "allow me to point out to you that the sacrifice was not great and its value was much depreciated owing to the precautions taken by M. Fulchiron to get one of his tragedies played."

"Wait a bit, though," resumed Régnier. "The suggestion made by M. Fulchiron was rejected. They made him see that the injustice which he did not wish done to himself would oppress a third party. If he renounced his turn it would have to be a complete renunciation, and, if M. Fulchiron fell out of rank, he must take his turn again at the end of the file. Now this was a serious matter. Suppose all the chances were favourable it would mean ten years at least! It must be confessed that M. Fulchiron took but little time to reflect, considering the gravity of the subject: then he said, "Well, gentlemen, I know the tragedy of the _Templiers_; it is much better that it should be performed at once; and that _Pizarre_ should not have its turn for ten years. It was, thanks to this condescension, of which very few authors would be capable towards a colleague, that the tragedy of the _Templiers_ was played; and, as one knows, that tragedy was one of the literary triumphs of the Empire. _Les Deux Gendres_ and the _Tyran domestique_ complete the dramatic trilogy of the period. Almost as much as eighteen hundred years ago they 'rendered to Cæsar the things which were Cæsar's.' Why not render to M. Fulchiron the justice which is his due?" Chateaubriand "I am not the person to refuse this," I said to Régnier, "and I am delighted to have the opportunity to make M. Fulchiron a public apology! M. Fulchiron did better than write a good tragedy: he did a good deed; whilst I, by sneering at him, did a bad action--without even the excuse of having written a good tragedy!"

[1] See note at end of chapter.

[2] Like Buonaparte on 15 Vendémiaire, I was far from being able to see clearly into my future.

[3] I have forgotten to inscribe M. de Laville, author of _Folliculaire_ and of _Une Journée d'Élections_, among the number of the signers of that petition, which I have cited in another part of these Memoirs. One of these signatories, who survives the others, has pointed out my error to me and I here repair it.

[4] TRANSLATOR'S NOTE.--Littré defines _un tour de faveur_ as the decision of a theatrical committee or manager by virtue of which a piece is given precedence over others received earlier.