Chapter XII: Part 12

[39] This was one of the most successful of Sophie’s “creations.” The piece, the libretto of which had been adapted by Sedaine from a _conte_ of the Chevalier de Boufflers, published in 1761, was played twenty-six times in succession, an unusually long run in those days.

[40] The _Mercure_ is lavish in its praise of Sophie’s rendering of Colin, the boy’s part, in Jean Jacques Rousseau’s _Devin du Village_, in which she appeared in December 1767. But Mr. Douglas thinks that her performance was less successful than that rather partial organ declared it to be. At all events, he says, she did not repeat the experiment, and was always extremely sarcastic if any of her fellow actresses undertook masculine parts. Mlle. Allard, whose innumerable _galanteries_ had astonished, and almost shocked, even the nymphs of the Opera, one day happened to remark, after playing such a part, that she believed that half the audience really thought she was a boy. “But the other half _knew_ you were not, _ma chère_,” observed Sophie.

[41] Mr. Ernest Newman, “Gluck and the Opera,” p. 133.

[42] _Gluck et Piccini_, p. 89.

[43] Rousseau, _La Nouvelle Héloïse_.

[44] E. and J. de Goncourt, _Sophie Arnould_, p. 119.

[45] Desnoiresterres, _Gluck et Piccini_, p. 93.

[46] Mr. Ernest Newman, “Gluck and the Opera,” p. 139.

[47] The _Mémoires secrets_ attribute much of the applause to “the desire of the public to please Madame la Dauphine, who did not cease to clap her hands, and thus compelled the Comtesse de Provence, the princes, and all the boxes to do likewise.”

[48] _Mémoires secrets_, vii. 185.

[49] Grimm, _Correspondance littéraire_, viii. 322.

[50] Métra, _Correspondance secrète_, i. 64.

[51] _Mémoires secrets_, viii. 321.

[52] Campardon, _L’Académie royale de Musique au XVIIIe siècle_: Article, “Levasseur.”

[53] _Gluck et Piccini_, p. 132.

[54] By the rules of the Opera, Sophie, as senior “_actrice chantante seule_” could have insisted, had she been so minded, on taking the part of Alceste. In 1774, Mlle. Duplant, who then occupied that position, claimed the title-part in _Iphigénie_, and considerable difficulty was experienced in persuading her to forego her claim, and be content with Clytemnestra.

[55] In October of that year, two successive issues of this worthy’s organ were confiscated by the police, on account of the scandalous attacks upon certain members of the theatrical profession which they contained.

[56] _Mémoires secrets_, ix. 230.

[57] La Harpe relates that in the scene where Iphigenia says to Achilles “_Vous brûlez que je sois partie_,” the pit applied the words to the actress and burst into ironical applause.

[58] See p. 170 _infra_.

[59] In addition to her pensions, she had 2000 livres a year from a settlement made upon her by Lauraguais, and owned a house at Port-à-l’Anglais, which she sold, some months after her retirement from the stage, for 20,000 livres. From a letter to Alleaume, written apparently during the winter of 1775-1776, we learn that she was then in receipt of allowances from at least two more of her noble lovers; 4250 livres from the Prince de Conti, and 3250 from the Prince de Condé; but how long these payments were continued it is impossible to say.

[60] The antiquary Millin, who annotated a copy of _Arnoldiana_ which afterwards came into the Goncourts’ possession, asserts that she had had tender relations with the Comte d’Artois and “my lord” Stuart.

[61] Mr. R. B. Douglas, “Sophie Arnould: actress and wit,” p. 209.

[62] Cited by the Goncourts, _Sophie Arnould_, p. 132.

[63] _La Chronique scandaleuse_, No. 29, cited by E. and J. de Goncourt, _Sophie Arnould_, p. 149.

[64] According to another account, to which the Goncourts and Mr. R. B. Douglas both give credence, it was a bust of Sophie herself, by Houdon, representing her as Iphigenia; and the agents of the revolutionary committee “mistook a sky-blue band on which was painted a quarter-moon and two stars for the scarf of Marat.” But is not this making rather a severe call upon our credulity?

[65] According to Castil-Blaze, during the Reign of Terror, Lauraguais disguised himself as a coachman and drove a _fiacre_.

[66] The official Republican name for the Opera.

[67] Cited by E. and J. de Goncourt, _Sophie Arnould_, p. 302.

[68] Campardon, _Académie royale de Musique au XVIIIe siècle_: Article, “Guimard.”

[69] _Ibid._

[70] _Arnoldiana._

[71] Edmond de Goncourt, _La Guimard_, p. 18.

[72] Castil-Blaze, _Histoire de l’Académie de Musique_, i. 267.

[73] Cited by Edmond de Goncourt, _La Guimard_, p. 304 note.

[74] The Archbishop of Sens.

[75] He was the author of _Pensées et Maximes_, published some years after his death, a work in the style of La Rochefoucauld, which reveals him as a keen observer of life and particularly of woman. Here are some of his reflections:

“Vouloir qu’on soit amoureux avec raison, c’est vouloir qu’on soit fou avec raison.”

“Une femme qui sait mal est moins supportable qu’une femme qui ne sait rien.”

“Le plaisir est comme une fleur, dont l’odeur est délicate, et qu’il faut sentir légèrement, si on veut toujours lui trouver le même parfum.”

“La plupart des femmes ressemblent à des énigmes qui cessent de plaire, dès qu’elles sont devinées.

“Qui aime est bien plus heureux que d’être aimé.

“On combat l’amour par la fuite et la colère par le silence.”

[76] _Mémoires secrets_, iii. 383.

[77] The titles of some of the pieces represented speak for themselves: _Junon et Ganymède, comédie érotique_; _La Vierge de Babylone, comédie érotique_; _César et les deux Vestales, pièce érotique en un acte_; _Héloïse et Abailard, comédie érotique en un acte_; _Ninon et Lachatre, scène érotique_; _Minette et Finette, ou les Épreuves d’amour_, and so forth.

[78] It was composed by Armand, concierge of the Hôtel des Comédiens, and author of several dramas, at the instance of La Borde, who had recommended him to make it as salacious as possible.

[79] Mlle. Guimard had, in point of fact, a third lover already, in the person of the dancer Dauberval; but he was a negligible quantity, so far as contributions to the lady’s revenues were concerned. A satirical print of the time entitled _Concert à trois_, shows us the ballerina holding a roll of music in her hand and about to sing, her chief protector, the Prince de Soubise, playing the violin, the _sous-entreteneur_, La Borde, beating time with the conductor’s bâton, and Dauberval playing the cornet.

[80] The _Mémoires secrets_ attribute another source to the 6000 livres: “This actress, very celebrated by her talents, having had a rendezvous in an isolated faubourg with a man whose robe exacted the most profound mystery, had occasion to witness the misery, grief, and despair of the people of this neighbourhood, on account of the excessive cold. Her heart was moved with compassion at such a sight, and of the 2000 écus, the fruit of her iniquity, she herself distributed a part and carried the balance to the curé of Saint-Roch, for the same purpose.”

[81] Edmond de Goncourt, _La Guimard_, p. 89.

[82] Walpole, writing to Sir Horace Mann, on September 9, 1771, says of the Hôtel Guimard: “The _salle-à-manger_ is to have _des serres chaudes_ (_sic_) round it, with windows opening into the room; that it may have orange-flowers and odours all the winter.”

[83] Métra, _Correspondance secrète_, vol. viii. Edmond de Goncourt, _La Guimard_, p. 90.

[84] See note, p. 109, _supra_.

[85] Campardon, _L’Académie royale de Musique au XVIIIe siècle_: Article “Guimard.”

[86] Edmond de Goncourt, _La Guimard_, p. 226.

[87] Previous to this arrangement being arrived at, the Chevalier de Saint-George, the Creole, famous as a fencer and musician, offered, with the assistance of a society of capitalists, to undertake the direction of the Opera. But Mlle. Guimard, Sophie Arnould, and certain other nymphs, jealous of the honour of their profession, addressed a petition to the Queen, representing that their honour would not allow them to submit to the direction of a mulatto.

[88] Campardon, _L’Académie royale de Musique au XVIIIe siècle_: Article, “Dauvergne.”

[89] The dancer Nivelon, who escaped across the Belgian frontier, with the intention of making his way to England, was hotly pursued by a police-agent named Quidor, with orders to arrest him and bring him back to Paris. While, however, Quidor was endeavouring to obtain an extradition warrant from the authorities at Brussels, the dancer contrived to reach Ostende and escaped across the Channel.

[90] _Mémoires de Fleury_, ii. 119.

[91] Edmond de Goncourt, _La Guimard_, p. 254.

[92] He was the son of a musician of the Opera, and was born on August 31, 1746. He became a dancer at the theatre in 1764, where he quickly distinguished himself by his skill in “_la danse haute_,” his performances in the ballets introduced into _Les Amours de Ragonde_ (1773), _Iphigénie en Aulide_ (1774), _Philémon et Baucis_ (1774), and _La Chercheuse d’esprit_ (1778), being particularly admired. In 1781, owing to an injury to one of his feet, he retired from the active exercise of his profession, and was appointed _maître des ballets_. In the following year, he received from the King a pension of 1500 livres, for his services as a dancer in ballets represented before the Court. A facile and graceful poet, Despréaux was the author of several parodies of operas: _Christophe et Pierre Luc_, parody of _Castor et Pollux_; _Momi_, parody of _Iphigénie_; _Syncope, reine de Mic-Mac_, parody of _Pénélope_, and _Berlingue_, parody of _Ernelinde_, which so pleased Louis XVI. when played before the Court, at Choisy, in 1777, that he granted the author a pension.--Campardon, _Académie royale de Musique au XVIIIe siècle_, i. 146.

[93] The marriage contract states that the property of the bride consisted of (1) an annuity of 12,000 livres; (2) a pension of 2600 livres on the King’s Privy Purse; (3) a pension of 6000 livres on the Royal Treasury; (4) a pension of 3000 livres on the treasury of the Opera; (5) a sum of 110,000 livres, partly in cash and partly in furniture, jewellery, linen, and wearing apparel.

[94] In a manuscript collection of his _chansons_ preserved in the _Bibliothèque de l’Opéra_, he describes himself in the following terms:

“Il faut que je vous désigne
De ma taille la grandeur:
Cinq pieds, trois pouces, neuf lignes,
Voilà juste ma hauteur.
Large front, bouche moyenne,
Menton pointu, le nez long,
Les yeux gris, figure pleine,
Sourcils bruns, cheveux blonds.”

[95] Edmond de Goncourt, _La Guimard_, p. 276.

[96] A. F. Didot, _Souvenirs de Jean Étienne Despréaux_, p. 34.

[97] Edmond de Goncourt, _La Guimard_, p. 301.

[98] Among the writers who have fallen into this error may be mentioned: Lemazurier (_Galerie historique des acteurs du Théâtre-Français_), M. de Manne (_Galerie historique de la troupe de Voltaire_ and _Biographie générale_: Article, “Raucourt”), Émile Gaboriau (_Les Comédiennes adorées_), Mr. Sutherland Edwards (“Idols of the French Stage”), and Mr. Frederick Hawkins (“The French Stage in the Eighteenth Century”).

[99] Mlle. Clairon subsequently wrote to Larive: “Mlle. Raucourt has made her _début_ with the greatest success. All Paris dotes on her, and, although Brizard may be her only recognised master, people name, at each verse which they hear her utter, the person of whom she has taken lessons. She is only sixteen and a half; she is beautiful as an angel, sensible, noble. She will be, I hope, a charming subject, and I dare believe that Madame Vestris will gnaw her fingers, more than once, at having disobliged me.... This woman is the first person whom I have really hated. Mlle. Raucourt is worthy of all the pains that I am taking to form her, but I confess that I find it very sweet, while serving her, to avenge myself for all the ingratitude and insolence of the other.” Cited by Edmond de Goncourt, _Mademoiselle Clairon_, p. 285.

[100] Brizard played the part of _fidus_ Achates in _Didon_.

[101] _Correspondance littéraire_, Supplementary volume, p. 352.

[102] _Mercure de France_, January 1773.

[103] _Mémoires secrets_, vi. 288.

[104] Gaboriau, _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 73. Manne, _Galerie historique de la troupe de Voltaire_.

[105] Grimm writes: “The Princesse de Beauvau, the Princesse de Guéménée, and the Duchesse de la Vallière have also made her presents of superb dresses. The greater part of those which the ladies of the Court had had made for the Dauphin’s marriage will go to enrich the theatrical wardrobe of Mlle. Raucourt, which will soon be of considerable size.”

[106] The name is frequently written Saint-Val.

[107] _Mémoires secrets_, vi. p. 297.

[108] _Correspondance littéraire_, Supplementary volume, p. 356.

[109] _Mémoires secrets._

[110] He was the author of a highly successful comedy, called _Le Séducteur_, produced at the Comédie-Française, November 8, 1783.

[111] For further information concerning this unpleasant subject, into which we naturally do not care to enter, see Edmond de Goncourt’s _Maison d’un artiste_, ii. 60, and the same writer’s _Sophie Arnould_, p. 86. A similar charge was brought against Sophie Arnould, though, apparently, with less reason.

[112] _Correspondance littéraire_, ii. 282.

[113] The expelled actress may have derived some little consolation from perusing the following criticism of her successor in the _Nouvelles à la main_: “July 9.--Mlle. Sainval the younger made her first appearance yesterday, in _Zaïre_, on her return to the Comédie. She is ugly, and particularly hideous when she weeps, ungraceful, flat-breasted, and has a doleful and monotonous voice.”

[114] Campardon, _Les Comédiens du Roi de la Troupe française_, p. 251.

[115] _Ibid._ p. 255.

[116] La Harpe, _Correspondance littéraire_, ii. 415.

[117] Hawkins, “The French Stage in the Eighteenth Century,” ii. 250 _et seq._

[118] La Harpe, _Correspondance littéraire_, iii. 3 _et seq._

[119] _Mémoires secrets_, xiv. 214 _et seq._

[120] _Mémoires secrets_, xix. 103.

[121] La Harpe, _Correspondance littéraire_, iii. 327. La Harpe states that a rumour was current that Mlle. Raucourt had only lent her name to the play, and that it was really the work of either Durosoy or Monvel. This rumour, however, is indignantly repudiated by the _Mémoires secrets_, which declare it to be nothing but a malicious invention of the lady’s enemies.

[122] _Mercure de France_, March 1782.

[123] Hawkins, “The French Stage in the Eighteenth Century,” 339.

[124] _Mémoires de Fleury_, v. 228, _et seq._

[125] _Souvenirs_, i. 82.

[126] M. Gaston Maugras, _Les Comédiens hors la loi_, p. 460 _et seq._

[127] Gaboriau, _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 151.

[128] Campardon, _Les Comédiens du Roi de la Troupe italienne_: Article, “Dugazon.”

[129] _Mes Récapitulations_, i. 124.

[130] _Souvenirs_, i. 94.

[131] Thurner, _Les Reines de Chant_, p. 66.

[132] _Correspondance littéraire_, xi. 417.

[133] _Correspondance littéraire_, xii. 261. At the conclusion of the piece on the first evening, Madame Dugazon was called before the curtain, “an honour,” say the _Mémoires secrets_, “which had never yet been accorded to any actress at this theatre or any other.”

[134] Campardon, _Les Comédiens du Roi de la Troupe italienne_: Article, “Dugazon.”

[135] _Mes Récapitulations_, i. 125.

[136] _Correspondance littéraire_, xiii. 132.

[137] Thurner, _Les Reines du Chant_, p. 65.

[138] Gaboriau, _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 163.

[139] Gaboriau, _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 165.

[140] Madame Dugazon’s feelings were probably intensified by the fact that her husband had espoused the popular side with enthusiasm, and had been appointed aide-de-camp to the notorious Santerre. After the 9th Thermidor, the actor was, for some time, the object of hostile demonstrations whenever he appeared on the stage. But he courageously refused to bow before the storm, and, little by little, the public forgave him. In 1807 he retired from the stage, and, two years later, died, “a raving madman,” on an estate which he had bought near Orléans.

[141] _Souvenirs._

[142] He composed three operas: _Marguerite de Waldemar_ (1812), _la Noce écossaise_ (1814), and _le Chevalier d’industrie_ (1818); and two ballets: _les Fiances de Caserte_ and _Alfred le Grand_. But none of these pieces seem to have been at all favourably received. He died in 1826, five years after his mother.

[143] Gaboriau, _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 170.

[144] In Louise Contat’s _acte de naissance_, which bears date June 16, 1760, her father, Jean François Contat, describes himself as “_soldat de la maréchaussée et marchand de bas privilégié à Paris_.”--Jal, _Dictionnaire de Biographie et d’Histoire_, article “Contat.”

[145] Hawkins, “The French Stage in the Eighteenth Century,” ii. 209.

[146] _Mémoires de Fleury_, ii. 217.

[147] The critic of the _Mercure_ wrote: “What respect can they (men of letters) hope to inspire, when they themselves become the first to denounce their own secret vices, and, to sum up all in one word, when their mind seems to make a jest of calumniating their heart?”

[148] For an account of this affair, see the author’s “Queens of the French Stage,” p. 324 _et seq._

[149] La Harpe, _Correspondance littéraire_, iv. 51.

[150] The friendship between Beaumarchais and the Comte de Vaudreuil had its origin in the following incident. The latter had had a dispute, at one of the Court theatres, with a M. de Miromesnil, a distinguished amateur actor, as to the manner in which drunkenness should be depicted on the stage. Some of the company jestingly ascribed the count’s remarks to personal experience. “Nay,” answered Vaudreuil, “they are not my own. I borrow the lesson from the great Garrick, who gave it on the Boulevards to Préville, who acted upon it before a few working men, and caused them to take the mimicry for reality.” Miromesnil disputed the authenticity of the anecdote, and, on being assured that it was true, offered to lay a heavy wager that a Boulevard was not the place. Beaumarchais happened to be standing by. “Take the wager,” he whispered to the count; “it is yours.” Vaudreuil did so. Beaumarchais left the theatre, and shortly afterwards returned with a letter, in which Garrick himself stated that the incident occurred on the Boulevards. From that moment, the count evinced a warm interest in the dramatist’s fortunes.--Hawkins, “The French Stage in the Eighteenth Century,” ii. 291.

[151] Gabriel Henri Gaillard (1726-1806). His chief works were: _L’Histoire de François Ier, dit le Grand Roi et le Père des Lettres_ (1766-1769); _L’Histoire de la Rivalité de la France et de l’Angleterre_ (1771-1777), which procured him admission to the Academy; and _L’Histoire de la Rivalité de la France et de l’Espagne_ (1800).

[152] Loménie, _Beaumarchais et son temps_, iv.

[153] _Souvenirs_, i. 100.

[154] _Mémoires de Fleury_, ii. 413.

[155] _Mémoires de Fleury_, ii. 415 _et seq._

[156] Cited by Gaboriau, _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 180.

[157] And well he deserved his triumph, for surely never had actor been at more pains to secure a perfect resemblance to the character he was to impersonate! “In the first place,” he tells us, in his _Mémoires_, “I sought to imbue myself with the idea that my apartments were in Potsdam, instead of in Paris; and I resolved to retire to rest, to take my meals, to move, and speak, during two whole months, in the full persuasion that I was Frederick the Great. The better to identify myself with the character, I used every morning to dress myself in the military coat, hat, boots, &c., I had ordered for the part. Thus equipped, I would seat myself before my looking-glass, at one side of which hung Ramberg’s picture of the King. Then, with the help of hair pencils and a palette spread with black, white, red, blue, and yellow, I endeavoured to paint my face to the resemblance of the picture.”

[158] Gaboriau, _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 191.

[159] M. Victor du Bled, _Les Comédiens français pendant la Révolution_, _Revue des Deux Mondes_, vol. cxxiv.

[160] _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 194.

[161] See pp. 182 _et seq._, _supra_.

[162] M. Victor du Bled, _Les Comédiens français pendant la Révolution_, _Revue des Deux Mondes_, vol. cxxiv.

[163] M. Victor du Bled, _Les Comédiens français pendant la Révolution_, _Revue des Deux Mondes_, vol. cxxiv.

[164] Many amusing anecdotes are told of Lemercier’s wit. Here is one, which Ernest Legouvé relates in his _Soixante ans de souvenirs_: “One evening, he (Lemercier) was seated on a low stool in the gangway of the first gallery of the Théâtre-Français. Enter a young officer, making a great deal of noise, slamming the door violently behind him, and taking his stand right in front of M. Lemercier. ‘Monsieur,’ says the poet, very gently, ‘you prevent my seeing anything.’ The officer turns round and, staring from his towering height at the little, inoffensive-looking civilian, humbly seated on his low stool, resumes his former position. ‘Monsieur,’ repeats M. Lemercier, more emphatically, ‘I have told you that you prevent me from seeing the stage, and I command you to get out of the way.’ ‘You command!’ retorts his interlocutor, in a tone of contempt; ‘do you know to whom you are speaking? You are speaking to a man who brought back the standards from the army of Italy!’ ‘That is very possible, Monsieur, seeing that it was an ass which carried Christ!’ As a matter of course, there was a duel, and the officer had his arm broken by a bullet.”

[165] Ducis’s adaptation--or distortion--of _Othello_, first produced on November 26, 1772, differed materially from the original play. “Iago’s villainy,” says Mr. Hawkins, in his “French Stage in the Eighteenth Century,” “was thought too deep and patent, especially for a Parisian audience. Pesare, as the ancient is called here, is accordingly transformed into something like an ordinary confidant, to all appearance full of sincere _bonhomie_, and with his devilish purpose hidden until he has been seen for the last time. Ducis, it has been well remarked, was extremely afraid of arousing too much emotion among his auditors. Another essential difference lay in Cassio being really in love with Desdemona (re-named Hédelmone).” Changes of minor importance were the substitution of a letter for the handkerchief, and a poniard for the pillow. Ducis also adapted--or distorted--_Hamlet_, _Romeo and Juliet_, _Macbeth_, and _Lear_.

[166] _Journal de Paris_, March 7, 1809.

[167] Antoine Dubois (1756-1837), the leading obstetric surgeon of the time. He assisted at the accouchement of the Empress Marie Louise, and was made a baron of the Empire. His son, Paul Dubois, was also a celebrated accoucheur, and the author of several able works on obstetrics.

[168] A character in the _Joueur_ of Regnard.

[169] Gaboriau, _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 207.

[170] Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty, d’après sa correspondance et ses papiers de famille_, p. 12.

[171] Cited by Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty, d’après sa correspondance et ses papiers de famille_, p. 14.

[172] If one is to believe a little brochure of the time, bearing the title of _Chronique scandaleuse des théâtres, ou Aventures des plus célèbres actrices, chanteuses, danseuses, et figurantes_, the lessons given by Gluck to Madame Saint-Huberty were not entirely gratuitous. “In one of those moments of incontinency to which the greatest men often yield, the celebrated Gluck recognised in her talents which had not even been suspected and which attached him to her. He resolved to make of her an actress. In like manner, the famous Champmeslé was formed by the care and counsels of Racine. However, one ought not to compare the German Orpheus to the French Euripides. Gluck sought less to teach the sentiments of which he taught her the expression, than to inspire her with the fire of his genius, and, as he had always preserved the rusticity of his German manners, he did not often fail to commit himself to it in his lessons....”

[173] All the critics were not so kind as the scribe of the _Mercure_, and one went so far as to declare that the _débutante_ was “very ugly, very bad,” and that “she could not possibly long retain her position on the lyric stage.”

[174] Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 20.

[175] It is not clear what papers are referred to, but, in all probability, they were those relating to the separation of her goods from those of her husband which she had obtained at Warsaw, in March 1777.

[176] Cited by Campardon, _L’Académie royale de Musique au XVIIIe siècle_: Article, “Saint-Huberty.”

[177] Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 42.

[178] Émile Gaboriau, _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 210.

[179] Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 45.

[180] This multiplicity and exaggeration of gestures appears to have been Madame Saint-Huberty’s principal fault in the early part of her career. On another occasion, she was reproached with her resemblance to a woman “persecuted by internal convulsions.”

[181] Rosalie Levasseur had sung charmingly on the opening night; but on the second, she was so intoxicated as to be almost incapable of struggling through the part. At the conclusion of the performance she was arrested and conveyed to For l’Évêque.

[182] Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame Saint-Huberty_.

[183] _Recherches sur les costumes et sur les théâtres de toutes les nations_, i. 35.

[184] Ginguéné, _Notice sur la vie et les ouvrages de Nicolas Piccini_.

[185] _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame Saint-Huberty._

[186] “Madame Saint-Huberty played the part of Rosette with an intelligence, a sensibility, and a fervour of expression, which proves the extent and the variety of her talent, equally well calculated to render every rôle and to sing all kinds of music.”--_Mercure de France_, December 1782.

[187] Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame Saint-Huberty_.

[188] Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 5.

[189] Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 75 _et seq._ Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame Saint-Huberty_.

[190] Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame Saint-Huberty_.

[191] _Mémoires de Marmontel_ (edit. 1804), iii. 224 _et seq._

[192] See the author’s “Queens of the French Stage” (London: Harpers’; New York: Scribners’. 1905), p. 314 _et seq._

[193] The train of an ordinary actress was held by a page dressed in black and white, but actresses representing queens were entitled to two trains and two pages, who followed them everywhere they went. “Nothing is more diverting,” writes a critic of the time, “than the perpetual movement of these little rascals, who have to run after the actress when she is rushing up and down the stage in moments of great distress. Their activity throws them into a state of perspiration, whilst their embarrassment and blunders invariably excite laughter. Thus a farce is always going on, which agreeably diverts the spectator in sad or touching situations.”

[194] Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame Saint-Huberty_.

[195] On December 6, which was an off-day at the Opera, Madame Saint-Huberty attended a performance of the _Fausse Lord_, music by Piccini, words by Piccini _fils_, at the Comédie-Italienne. At the conclusion of the piece, when she was leaving her box, the whole audience rose, and burst into a tumult of applause, shouting: “_Vive la reine de Carthage!_” If, remarks Grimm, the public had been aware that, on that very day, by the exercise of rare delicacy and tact, the artiste had succeeded in reconciling Piccini and Sacchini, who had long been at variance, their enthusiasm would have been, if it were possible, even greater.

[196] _Notice sur la vie et les ouvrages de Nicolas Piccini._

[197] _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 217.

[198] Grimm, _Correspondance littéraire_, xii. 10.

[199] Grimm, _Correspondance littéraire_, xii. 10.

[200] Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame Saint-Huberty_. M. Jullien says “in less than five months.” He forgets that _Didon_, although not seen at the Opera until December 1 1783, had been performed at Fontainebleau in the previous October.

[201] Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame Saint-Huberty_.

[202] See p. 128 note, _supra_.

[203] _Mémoires secrets_, December 20, 1786.

[204] Cited by Campardon, _Académie royal de Musique au XVIIIe siècle_: Article, “Saint-Huberty.”

[205] Cited by Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 190.

[206] The superintendent of the wardrobe of the Opera.

[207] Cited by Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 171.

[208] It is true that Métra writes, under date March 24, 1783, as follows: “Mlle. Laguerre had been for a long time the mistress of the Duc de Bouillon. Madame Saint-Huberti has replaced her in the heart of this prince and in her rights on his fortune. He has just purchased her favours, so many times cheaply disposed of, by a contract of one hundred thousand écus.” But Edmond de Goncourt is inclined to think that Métra is here drawing upon his very vivid imagination with more than his usual freedom.

[209] Cited by Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 186.

[210] Cabanis was the Comte d’Antraigues’s physician in Paris. Shortly before this letter was written, Madame Saint-Huberty had placed herself under his care and presumably he was still prescribing for her.

[211] All sorts of legends have gathered round the Comte d’Antraigues, who is depicted as a kind of Royalist Marat, ready to demand, on the return of the Bourbons, “his four hundred thousand heads.” One story is to the effect that, when in Venice, he had been heard to boast that he had caused several agents of the French Republic to be poisoned.

[212] This was not the only reward of her services which the ex-singer received. In 1804, the Emperor of Austria accorded her a pension of 1000 ducats, “in memory of the services rendered by her to her late Majesty Marie Antoinette of France, as superintendent of the music of that august princess.” As for the Comte d’Antraigues, he was, for some years, in receipt of a handsome pension from the various European Courts, and, in May 1800, received from the king of the Two Sicilies the royal order of Constantine, together with a pension.

[213] Madame Saint-Huberty had, of course, never appeared at the Théâtre-Français. Such is fame!

[214] As a matter of fact, her savings only amounted to some 80,000 francs, the whole of which had been lost during the Revolution.

[215] The _Times_ of July 28, 1812, states that it had been ascertained that Lorenzo was an intimate friend of Sellis, who, after attempting to assassinate the Duke of Cumberland, committed suicide.

[216] _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame Saint-Huberty._