Paris as It Was and as It Is Part 40

The Chief Consul is said to be particularly partial to Italian music.

In consequence, KREUTZER, a capital violin, and also a celebrated composer, has been dispatched to Italy by the French government, for the express purpose of selecting and purchasing the finest musical compositions which can be procured in that land of harmony. Thus, the advice given by ROUSSEAU, in his _Dictionnaire de Musique_, has at length been followed.

So much for the singing department of the opera, which, as you see, with some exceptions, is but indifferent: in my next, I shall speak of the dancing.

[Footnote 1: Since the above letter was written, this Lyric theatre has changed its name for that of _Theatre de l'Opera_. This seems like one of the minor modifications, announcing the general retrograde current setting towards the readoption of old habits; for the denomination of _Theatre des Arts_ was certainly un.o.bjectionable, as poetry, music, dancing, painting, and mechanics, concurred in rendering more pompous and more surprising the effects which a fertile genius, when governed by reason, might a.s.semble here for the gratification of the public. The addition of the words _et de la Republique_ was probably given to it from patriotic zeal, at the time when the _Royal Academy of Music_ was abolished by the decree which annihilated all similar monarchical inst.i.tutions.]

[Footnote 2: It appears that, from pique, this old opera-singer refused to sing on Easter-Sunday last, (1802) at the cathedral of _Notre-Dame_.]

LETTER XLII

_Paris, December 30, 1801_.

Dancing, like the other arts in France, has, during the revolution, experienced the vicissitudes of this new order of things; but also, like the other arts, it has made a progress equally astonishing and rapid. However, it must not thence be inferred that dancing, particularly theatrical, had not attained a certain degree of superiority long before the revolution; yet a most evident improvement has been made in it, not only by the old-established dancers, who then seemed almost to have done their best, but by the numerous compet.i.tors who have since made their appearance.

It is not in the power of words to convey an adequate idea of the effect produced on the senses by some of the ballets. In lieu of those whimsical capers, forced att.i.tudes, vague and undefined gestures of a set of dancers whose movements had no signification, dancing now forms an animated, graceful, and diversified picture, in which all the human pa.s.sions are feelingly pourtrayed. Their language is the more expressive from its being more refined and concentrated.

In the silence of pantomime, recourse is had to every ingenious gesture, in order to impart to them greater force and energy; and, in this mute play, restraint seems to kindle eloquence. Every motion has its meaning; the foot speaks as well as the eye, and the sensations of the mind are expressed by the att.i.tudes of the body. A delicate sentiment is rendered with the rapidity of lightning. Love, fear, hope, and despair, change countenances, and say every thing that they wish to say, void of deceit, as if falsehood no longer existed as soon as the mouth ceased to open.

It should not be forgotten that it was NOVERRE who first brought about in France this reform in what were till then called ballets, without deserving the t.i.tle. He banished wigs, hoop-petticoats, and other preposterous habiliments, and, by dint of superior genius, seconded by taste and perseverance, introduced those historical pictures, replete with grace, expression, and sentiment, in the room of the flat, insipid, and lifeless caricatures, which had hitherto usurped admiration.

But, though NOVERRE, and, after him, the GARDELS, introduced on the Parisian stage the pantomimic art in all the l.u.s.tre in which it flourished on the theatres of Greece and Rome, yet they had been antic.i.p.ated by HILWERDING in Germany, and ANGIOLINI in Italy, two celebrated men, who, in a distinguished manner, laid the foundations of a species of modern entertainment, before known only by the annals of ancient history. Those who have trod in their steps have infinitely surpa.s.sed them in attractions, and, by their scientific compositions, acquired a justly-merited reputation.

GARDEL, who, for the last fifteen years, has been the first dancer at the opera, shews himself but seldom. After having, during that long period, received the warmest and best deserved applause, either in the execution of the n.o.ble style of dancing, or in the composition of ballets, he seems now to have devoted himself almost exclusively to the last-mentioned branch of his art, and the perfection to which he daily carries it, may well compensate the public for the privation of his talents in the line of execution.

The most famous pantomimical ballets or _ballets d'action_ (as they are styled) now represented here, are _Psyche_, _Telemaque_, _Le Jugement de Paris_, _Mirza_, and _la Dansomanie_. The impression to which I have before alluded, is particularly observable during the representation of the first three (composed by GARDEL), the charm of which would be weakened by any attempt at description. No spectator, be his disposition ever so cold and indifferent, can behold them unmoved. Every effort of human skill and invention is exerted to excite astonishment and admiration. The _ensemble_ of the _spectacle_ and decorations correspond to the fertile genius of the author. It is the triumph of the art, and there may be fixed the limits of pantomime, embellished by dancing. Nothing more perfect than the rapid change of scenery. Meteors, apparitions, divinities borne on cl.u.s.ters of clouds or in cars, appear and disappear, as if by enchantment, exhibiting situations the most picturesque and striking.

BOULAY, the princ.i.p.al machinist, is, perhaps, the first in his line in Europe. In the opera of _Armide_, I have seen him raise into the air nearly one half of the theatre. He executes whatever is proposed to him, no matter how difficult, and he is well seconded by the painters and draughtsmen. The new decorations display much taste, and produce an effect truly wonderful.

Had I not already made the remark, you might have concluded from the general tenour of my observations, that the dancing forms the most brilliant part, of the _spectacle_ at this theatre, or, in other words, that the accessory prevails over the main subject. It is no longer, as heretofore, a few capital dancers of both s.e.xes who form the ornament of the opera. Almost all the compet.i.tors in this line are so many _virtuosi_ who deserve and equally partic.i.p.ate the plaudits of the public. There is not among them any mediocrity. The establishment of the _ecole de la danse_ is for this theatre a nursery, where Terpsich.o.r.e finds, in great numbers, the most promising plants for the decoration of her temple. It is saying little to affirm that nothing equals the superiority of talents of this description which the opera comprehends at the present moment.

These advantages, I understand, are chiefly due to GARDEL. He has given the example and the precept, and, through his guidance, the art of dancing is become doubly captivating.

After having supplied most of the princ.i.p.al cities in Europe with capital dancers, this theatre, far from being impoverished, is still in possession of a numerous train of first-rate _artists_ of both s.e.xes in every style of dancing. The men are GARDEL, MILON, ST.

AMAND, DESHAIES, GOYON, BEAUPRe, BRANCHU, BEAULIEU, AUMER, LeON, TAGLIONI, DUPORT, and VESTRIS.

It is unnecessary to speak of the talents of VESTRIS, as they are as well known in London as in Paris. I shall therefore content myself with remarking that he delights in exhibiting feats of agility; but as his age increases, connoisseurs think that he declines a little.

Nevertheless, he is still, in reality, the first dancer at the opera.

It is said that his son, ARMAND VESTRIS, will, in time, be able to supply his place; in the mean while, DUPORT bids fair to fill it, in case the "_Dieu de la danse_" should retire; not to mention DESHAIES, who has lately met with an accident which has disabled him for the present; but who, when on the stage in the presence of Vestris, has shewn that he could also astonish and delight the spectators. Without having the boldness of his rival, he exhibits more certainty and _a-plomb_. In the character of _Telemaque_, he appears with all the grace of Apollo. If excellence in dancing be allowed to consist less in the efforts of the dancer, than in the ease and gracefulness of his att.i.tudes, and the lightness and precision of his steps, DESHAIES may he cla.s.sed in the first rank of his profession.

In this exercise, as in every thing else, there is a just medium, and this is more particularly observed by the princ.i.p.al female dancers.

The names of these are GARDEL, CLOTILDE, CHEVIGNY, PeRIGNON, COLLOMB, CHAMEROI,[1] SAULNIER, VESTRIS, DELISLE, MILLIeRE, LOUISE, FeLICITe, DUPORT, TAGLIONI, ALINE, eTIENNE, JACOTOT, FLORINE, ADeLE, to whom may be added two most promising _debutantes_, LA NEUVILLE and BIGOTINI, whose first appearance I witnessed.

Though Madame GARDEL, wife of the princ.i.p.al ballet-master, shines in _demi-caractere_, her talents, in the different parts in which she is placed, are above all panegyric. As NOVERRE has said somewhere of a famous dancer, "she is always tender, always graceful, sometimes a b.u.t.terfly, sometimes a zephyr, at one moment inconstant, at another faithful; always animated by a new sentiment, she represents with voluptuousness all the shades of love." To sum up her merits, she is really in her art the female Proteus of the lyric scene. Mademoiselle CLOTILDE is a tall, elegant woman, who dances in the serious style.

All her movements, made with precision, exhibit the beautiful proportion of her finely-modelled figure; but, owing to her stature, she appears to most advantage in pantomime, particularly in the character of _Calypso_ in the ballet of _Telemaque_. In the same ballet, MILLIeRE, in the part of _Eucharis_, displays her playful graces and engaging mien. CHEVIGNY is full of expression in pantomime, and dances in great perfection, notwithstanding her _embonpoint_. PeRIGNON and COLLOMB are superior in the comic style, and all the others are not without some peculiar exellence.[2]

I should never finish, were I to attempt to particularize the merits of all these fascinating women, who, as well as the men, have, of late, alternately interchanged the characters they performed in the ballets of action. Even those introduced occasionally in the fetes given and received by the heroes in the different operas, present a real contest, in which the first-rate dancers of both s.e.xes exert themselves to s.n.a.t.c.h the palm from their rivals. When a theatre possesses such a richness, variety, and a.s.semblage of talents in the same art, it may boldly stylo itself the first in Europe. But I must confess that an innovation has been introduced here which detracts much from what has always been considered as fine dancing. I mean the mania of _pirouettes_. This, however, seems less to be attributed to a decided _penchant_ of the dancers than to that of a new public, not yet familiarized to what const.i.tutes true taste.

During a revolution, every thing changes, every thing a.s.sumes a new face. What was ent.i.tled to please yesterday in times of tranquillity, is to-day, during the jar of public opinion, and will be to-morrow subject to all the variations of caprice. The marvellous and gigantic usurp the place of the natural, and claim alone the right to entertain. True it is that the dancers have found means to render this new manner interesting, while they have enjoyed the sweets of it. The pleasure of being applauded is so great, that it is no easy matter to withstand the powerful allurement of the plaudits of a numerous audience. Boileau has said, "_Aimez-vous la muscade? On en a mis par tout_." The French dancers, following his example, have said, "_Aimez-vous les pirouettes?_" The public have answered _oui_; and _pirouettes_ are all the rage.

When a certain king of Bisnagar sneezes, the court, the town, the provinces, all the subjects of his empire, in short, sneeze in imitation of their monarch. Without departing from my subject, I shall only observe that _pirouettes_, like this sneezing, have found their way from the opera-stage into the circles of every cla.s.s of society in Paris. There lies the absurdity. The young Frenchmen have been emulous to dance like dancers by profession; the women have had the same ambition; and both men and women have, above all, been desirous to shine like them in _pirouettes_. Thence most of the dances, formerly practised in society, in which simple and natural grace was combined with a certain facility and n.o.bleness of execution, have been entirely laid aside. It must be acknowledged, that, among the dancers in private company, there are many, indeed, who, by dint of imitation and study, have attained a great degree of perfection. But I now perceive that people here no longer dance for their amus.e.m.e.nt; they dance to gratify their vanity, and many a person who has not practised some hours in the morning under the tuition of his master, excuses himself in the evening, pretends to be lame, and declines dancing.

The taste and elegance of the dresses of the opera-dancers, like those of the heroes and heroines of the sock and buskin, leave nothing to be wished for. In lieu of drawers, which all women, without exception, were formerly obliged to wear on the stage[3], those who dance have now subst.i.tuted silk pantaloons, woven with feet, in order to serve also as stockings. In some particular characters, they wear these of flesh colour, and it is not then easy, at first sight, to distinguish whether it be or be not the clothing of nature.

The French opera having been long considered as the grand national theatre, it has ever been the pride of the government, whether monarchical or republican, to support it in a manner worthy of the nation. In fact, the disburs.e.m.e.nts are so great, that it would be impossible for the receipts to cover them, though the performances are seldom suspended for more than two days in the week, and the house is generally crowded. This theatre is managed by the government, and on its account. The Minister of the Interior appoints a commissioner to superintend its operations, and managers to conduct them. During the old _regime_, the opera cost the crown annually from one hundred and fifty to two hundred thousand livres. What the extraordinary expenses of this house are, under the present government, is not so easily ascertained; but, from the best information that I have been able to procure, their amount is from three to four hundred thousand francs a year. Here is a considerable increase; but it must be remembered that the price of several articles is now greatly augmented, if not doubled.

The receipt of the opera, on an average, used to be from twelve to fifteen thousand livres a night; what it is at this day, is not positively known. Formerly, the produce of the boxes, let by the year, was such, that nine thousand livres were paid, in a manner, before the doors were thrown open. That resource is almost void at present; nevertheless, this house being more s.p.a.cious than the old one, the prices of admission higher, and the performance, perhaps, more constantly attended, the money taken at the door cannot well be less than it was formerly. It then cost much less than it does now to bring out a new piece. Thirty or forty thousand livres were sufficient for the production of the most magnificent opera; while the disburs.e.m.e.nts to be made for _Tamerlan_ will, it is thought, amount to upwards of eighty thousand francs. At this rate, the first representation of the _Mysteres d'Isis_, of which so much has been said, must have been attended with an expense of more than a hundred thousand. Scandal whispers, that the managers of the opera are rather partial to expensive pieces; but as they are accountable for their conduct to the Minister of the Interior, I should presume that they must act as honourable men.

The salaries are not considerable at this theatre. The first performers have not more than twelve thousand francs a year, exclusively of the _feux_, which is the sum given to each of them, when they perform. This, I understand, does not exceed a louis a night. Those who have a name, indemnify themselves by going, from time to time, to play in the great commercial towns of the departments, such as Bordeaux, Lyons, Ma.r.s.eilles, &c. where they generally collect a rich harvest. It is said that VESTRIS has received from the government a gratification to prevent him from visiting the British metropolis; and it is also reported that DIDELOT and LABORIE have made vain efforts to return to the Parisian opera; but that the managers, faithful to their instructions, refuse to readmit such of the old performers as have voluntarily quitted it.

What attaches performers to the opera-house is the _pension de retraite._ They all eventually obtain it, even the chorus-singers.

The remuneration of authors, that is, of the poet and composer of the music, is to each three hundred francs for every representation, when the piece is not less than three acts. This is the most common division. I know of no operas in one act; those in two are paid in the above proportion.[4]

[Footnote 1: GARDEL has lately added another sprig of laurel to his brow, by the production of a new pantomimical ballet, called _Daphnis et Pandrose, ou la vengeance de l'amour_. He has borrowed the subject from a story of Madame DE GENLIS, who took it from fable. Every resource of his inexhaustible genius has been employed to give the happiest effect to this charming work, to enumerate the beauties of which is, by general report, beyond the powers of language. All the first-rate dancers of both s.e.xes are placed in the most advantageous point of view throughout this ballet. Madame GARDEL performs in it the part of Cupid, with all the charms, wiles, and graces which poets ascribe to the roguish deity. The other characters are represented in a manner no less interesting. In short, music, dancing, pantomime, dress, decoration, every thing in this piece, concurs to stamp it as one of the most wonderful productions of the kind ever exhibited to the admiration of the public.]

[Footnote 2: In a preceding note, VESTRIS has been mentioned as the reputed lover of Mademoiselle CHAMEROI, and from this instance of illicit intercourse, it might, perhaps, be erroneously inferred that most of the Parisian female opera-dancers had overleaped the pale of virtue. Without pretending to enter the lists as the champion of their character, though I admire their talents as warmly as any amateur, truth induces me to observe that many of these ladies enjoy an unblemished reputation. Madame VESTRIS, in particular, is universally represented as a young and pretty woman, much attached to her faithless husband, and, notwithstanding his improper example, a constant observer of the most exemplary conduct.]

[Footnote 3: Many years ago, a Parisian actress, coming on the stage in the part of _Merope_, in the tragedy of that name, her petticoats somehow happened to catch in the side-scene, and, in her hasty endeavours to disentangle them, she exhibited to the audience the hind part of her person. In consequence of this accident, a _sentence de police_ enjoined every woman, whether actress or dancer, not to appear on the boards of any theatre, without drawers.]

[Footnote 4: The refusal made by the Rector of St. Roch to admit into that church the corpse of Mademoiselle CHAMEROI, has informed us in England of the loss which this theatre has sustained in that young and accomplished dancer. She died, generally regretted, in consequence of being delivered of a child of which VESTRIS considered himself as the real father. However, M. DE MARKOFF, the Russian amba.s.sador at Paris, stood sponsor to the infant, and, according to the scandalous chronicle, was not contented with being only a spiritual father. The Parisian public have consoled themselves for this loss by talking a great deal about the scene to which it gave rise. It seems that the Rector was decidedly in the wrong, the dancers of the opera never having been comprised in the papal excommunication which involved players. The persons composing the funeral procession were also in the wrong to go to St. Roch, since the Rector had positively declared that the corpse of Mademoiselle CHAMEROI should not enter the church.]

LETTER XLIII.

_Paris, January 1, 1802._

Fast locked in the arms of Morpheus, and not dreaming of what was to happen, as Lord North said, when the king caused him to be awakened, in the dead of the night, to deliver up the seals, so was I roused this morning by a message from an amiable French lady of my acquaintance, requesting me to send her some _bonbons_. "_Bonbons_!"

exclaimed I, "in the name of wonder, Rosalie, is your mistress so childishly impatient as to send you trailing through the snow, on purpose to remind me that I promised to replenish her _bonbonniere_?"--"Not exactly so, Monsieur," replied the _femme de chambre_, "Madame was willing to be the first to wish you a happy new year."--"A new year!" said I, "by the republican calendar, I thought that the new year began on the 1st of Vendemiaire."--"Very true,"

answered she; "but, in spite of new laws, people adhere to old customs; wherefore we celebrate the first of January."--"As to celebrating the first of January, _a la bonne heure_, Rosalie,"

rejoined I, "I have no sort of objection; but I wish you had adhered to some of your other old customs, and, above all, to your old hours.

I was not in bed till past six o'clock this morning, and now, you wake me at eight with your congratulations."--"Never mind, Monsieur,"

said she, "you will soon drop asleep again; but my mistress hopes that you will not fail to make one of her party on the _Fete des Rois_."--"Good heaven!" exclaimed I again, "what, is a counterrevolution at hand, that the _Fete des Rois_ must also be celebrated?"--"'Tis," interrupted Rosalie, "only for the pleasure of drawing for king and queen."--"Tell Madame," added I, "that I will accept her invitation."--Dismissing the _soubrette_ with this a.s.surance, at the same time not forgetting to present her with a new year's gift, she at once revealed the secret of her early visit, by hinting to me that, among intimate friends, it was customary to give _etrennes_. This, in plain English, implies nothing more nor less than that I must likewise make her mistress a present, on the principle, I suppose, that _les pet.i.ts cadeaux entretiennent l'amitie_.

My reflection then turned on the instability of this people. After establishing a new division of time, they return to the old one, and celebrate, as formerly, the first of January. Now, it is evident that the former accords better with the order of nature, and that autumn was the first season which followed the creation. Why else should apples of irresistible ripeness and beauty have presented themselves to the eye of our first parents in the garden of Eden? This would not have been the case, had the world commenced in winter.

Besides, a mult.i.tude of advantages would accrue to the French from an adherence to the 1st of Vendemiaire, or 23d of September of the Gregorian calendar, as the first day of the year. The weather, after the autumnal equinox, is generally settled, in consequence of the air having been purified by the pre-existing gales, the ordinary forerunners of that period: and the Parisians would not be obliged to brave the rain, the wind, the cold, the frost, the snow, &c. in going to wish a happy new year to their fathers, mothers, uncles, aunts, cousins, and other relations. For to all this are they now exposed, unless they choose to ruin themselves in coach-hire. The consequence is that they are wet, cold, and dirty for two or three successive days, and are sure to suffer by a sore throat, rheumatism, or fever, all which entail the expensive attendance of the faculty; whereas, did they celebrate the 23d of September as new year's day, they might, in a quiet, una.s.suming manner, pay all their visits on foot, and, in that season, this exercise would neither be prejudicial to their purse nor their health.

I do not immediately recollect whether I have spoken to you of the long-expected account of the French expedition to Egypt, by DENON: yet I ought not to have omitted to inform you that, upwards of two months ago, I set down your name for a copy of this splendid work. It will cost you 360 francs; but you will have one of the proof impressions. I have seen a specimen of the letter-press, which is to consist of a folio volume, printed by Didot. The plates, amounting to upwards of one hundred and forty in number, are entirely engraved from DENON'S original drawings, without any reduction or enlargement, with the exception of that representing the Battle of the Pyramids, the size of which has been increased at the express desire of BONAPARTE. I have often amused myself on a morning in contemplating these drawings; but the crowd of curious persons being generally great, I determined to seize the opportunity of examining them more at leisure to-day, when the French are entirely engaged in interchanging the compliments of the season. I found DENON himself diligently employed on some of the engravings; and so anxious is he for the publication of the work, that he toils early and late to forward its appearance.

Notwithstanding the anxiety he feels on that account, this estimable artist takes a real pleasure in explaining the subject of his drawings; and, by means of his obliging communications, I am now become tolerably well acquainted with Egypt. What country, in fact, has a better claim to fix attention than that which served as a cradle to human knowledge, and the history of which goes back to the first ages of the world; a country, where every thing seems to have commenced? Laws, arts, sciences, and even fables, which derive their origin from nature, whose attributes they immortalize, and which, at a subsequent period, formed the ground-work of the ingenious fictions of mythology.

What idea must we not conceive of the industry and civilization of a people who erected those celebrated monuments, anterior to the annals of history, to the accounts even of tradition, those pyramids which have unalterably withstood all the ravages of time?

When we look back on the ancients, the Greeks and Romans almost exclusively divide our attention. The former, it is true, carried farther the love and the culture of the fine arts; while the latter are more remarkable for the great traits of their character; though both acquired that renown which mankind have so improperly attached to the success of arms.

But, in allowing to Greece all the interest which she claims, in so many respects, we cannot forget that she was originally peopled by Egyptian colonies; that it was Egyptians who, in later times, carried thither the knowledge of the arts, the most necessary and the most indispensable to society; and that, at the epoch which preceded the splendid days of Greece, it was also into Egypt that the sages went to acquire that knowledge of a superior kind, which const.i.tuted their glory, and rendered their country ill.u.s.trious.

What keeps up a sort of rivalship between Greece and Egypt is that, independently of the priority of knowledge, the former had the eminent advantage of opening her arms to philosophy and the sciences, which, forsaking their adoptive country, and not being able to survive the loss of liberty, fled back to their natal soil, and found, in the Museum of Alexandria, an asylum, which neither the Lyceum, the Portico, nor the Academy, could longer afford them at Athens. Thus, to the reign of the Ptolemies are we, unquestionably, indebted for the preservation of the knowledge acquired by the ancients.