Paris as It Was and as It Is Part 49

VANHOVE was the first player ever called for by a Parisian audience after the representation, in order to express to him their satisfaction. However, it may be proper to observe that, in such cases, it is always some friend of the author who takes the lead.

VANHOVE no longer obtains this favour at present, and is seldom applauded. He also plays the parts of fathers in comedy.

MONVEL. This actor is not near so old as VANHOVE; but the decay of his person is such that, when he plays, he seems a skeleton bestirring itself, or that is set in motion. It is a misfortune for him that his physical means betray his talents. MONVEL is a man of genius. Thus gifted, it is not astonishing that he has a just diction, and is not deficient in intelligence. Some persons doubt whether he has real sensibility; but he at least presents the appearance of it. He, in some measure, breaks his voice, and vents mournful accents which produce much effect. With a const.i.tution extremely weak, it is impossible that he should perform characters which require energy and pride. He therefore confines himself to those in which the pathetic is predominant, or which do not imperiously demand great efforts, such as _Auguste_ in _Cinna_, _Burrhus_ in _Britannicus_, _Brutus_ in the tragedy of that name (now no longer played), _Lusignan_ in _Zaire_, _Zopire_ in _Mahomet_, _Fenelon_[1] and _l'Abbe de l'Epee_ in the two pieces of that name.

His stock of characters then is by no means extensive. We may also add to it the part of _esope a la cour_, in the comedy of that name by BOURSAULT, which he plays or recites in great perfection, because it is composed of fables only. MONVEL delivers them with neatness and simplicity. For this part he has no equal in France.[2]

MONVEL is author as well as actor. He has composed several comic operas and _drames_; and his pieces, without being good, have always obtained great applause. His _drames_ are _l'Amant Bourru_, _Clementine et Desormes_, _Les Amours de Bayard_, _Les Victimes Cloitrees_, &c. You will find in them forced situations, but set off by sentiment. He is lavish of stage-effect and that always pleases the mult.i.tude. _L'Amant Bourru_ has alone remained as a stock-piece.

By his zeal for the revolution, he alienated from him a great part of the public. When every principle of religion was trodden under foot, and, under the name of festivals of reason or of the G.o.ddess of reason, orgies of the most scandalous nature were celebrated in the churches, MONVEL ascended the pulpit of the parish of St. Roch, and preached _atheism_ before an immense congregation. Shortly after, Robespierre caused the National Convention to proclaim the following declaration: "_The French people acknowledge the Supreme Being and the immortality of the soul." MONVEL trembled; and it is probable that, had not that sanguinary tyrant been overthrown, the atheistical preacher would have descended from the pulpit only to ascend the scaffold.[3]

ST. PRIX. He has no fixed employment. Sometimes he plays the parts of kings, sometimes those of lovers; but excels in none. He would be a very handsome man, were it possible to be so with a face void of expression. Nature has given him a strong but hollow voice; and he recites so coldly, that he makes the public yawn, and seems sometimes to yawn himself. When he means to display warmth, he screams and fatigues the ear without mercy.

NAUDET. This man, who is great only in stature, quitted the rank of serjeant in the _Gardes Francaises_ to become a bad player. In the character of kings, he scarcely now appears but to personate tyrants.

He is very cold, and speaks through his nose like a Capuchin friar, which has gained him the appellation of the Reverend Father NAUDET.

_First parts or princ.i.p.al lovers, in Tragedy_.

TALMA, and LAFOND.

TALMA. The great reputation which circ.u.mstances and his friends[4]

have given to this actor has, probably, rendered him celebrated in England. His stature and his voice (which, in theatrical language, is called _organ_), should seem to qualify him for the parts of _jeunes premiers_ only, of which I shall say more hereafter. Accordingly he made his _debut_ in that line about fifteen or sixteen years ago.

Without being brilliant, his first appearances were successful, and he was received on trial. He soon caused himself to be remarked by the correctness of his dress.[5] But what fixed attention on TALMA, was the part of _Charles Neuf_, which he plays in the tragedy of that name.[6] In the riots to which this piece gave rise in 1790, TALMA figured as a patriot. Having fallen out with the comedians who had behaved ill to him, and no longer placed him in any other parts than those of confidants, he was engaged at the new _Theatre Francais_ of the _Rue de Richelieu_, where it was proposed to him to perform the characters which pleased him best, that is, the best in each piece.

Thus he was seen alternately personating young princes, heroes, and tyrants.

TALMA is now reduced to those of the old stock. The characters he at present represents are _Cinna_ in the tragedy of that name by CORNEILLE, _Oreste_ in the _Andromaque_ of RACINE, _Neron_ in the _Britannicus_ of the same, _OEdipe_ in the tragedy of that name by VOLTAIRE, and _Fael_ in _Gabrielle du Vergy_ by DU BELLOY, _Oreste_ in _Iphigenie en Tauride_ by GUIMOND DE LA TOUCHE, and _aegisthe_ in the _Agamemnon_ of LE MERCIER. TALMA also plays many other parts, but, in these, he makes no great figure. He had a great aversion to old pieces, and as long as he preserved his sway at the theatre, very few, if any were performed. In fact, there are many in which he is below mediocrity.

You will certainly expect that I should tell you what const.i.tutes the talent of this performer. He is small in stature, thin in person, and rather ill-made; his arms and legs being bowed, which he takes care to conceal by the fulness of his garments. He has a fine eye, and his features are regular, but too delicate for the perspective of the theatre. He has long since adopted the antique head-dress,[7] and has contributed to bring it into fashion. He distinguished himself formerly in Paris by wearing clothes of a strange form. As an actor, he has no n.o.bleness of manner, and not unfrequently his gestures are aukward. His deportment is always ungraceful, though he often endeavours to imitate the posture of the antique statues; but even then he presents only a caricature. His countenance has little or no expression, except in moments of rage or terror. In pourtraying the latter sentiment, all the faculties of his soul appear absorbed; yet, though his distraction seems complete, there is a sort of silliness blended with his stupor, which certain persons take for truth, and which is much more perceptible in the rest of his characters. In rage, he is a tiger mangling his prey, and sometimes you might believe that you heard that animal drawing his breath. TALMA has never expressed well a tender, generous, or n.o.ble sentiment. His soul is neither to be softened nor elevated; and, to produce effect, he must be in a terror or in a rage; but then he makes a great impression on the majority of the public. His utterance is slow, minced, and split into syllables. His voice is hollow; but, in moments of rage, it is strong, yet without being of a considerable volume. He is generally reproached with being deficient in sensibility: I think, however, that, by dint of labour, he might paint feeling; for I have heard him render delicate pa.s.sages happily enough. He is accused here of having adopted the English style of acting, though, as far as my opinion goes, with little or no foundation. Be this as it may, he pa.s.sed the early part of his youth in London, where his father resides, and follows the profession of a dentist. The son may now be about thirty-eight years of age.

TALMA preserves the reputation of being a zealous partisan of the revolution; but I am confidently a.s.sured that he never injured any one, and held in horror the a.s.sa.s.sinations which have left an indelible stain on that event. He was intimately connected with the deputies, styled _Girondists_ or _Brisotins_, who perished on the scaffold, after their party was overcome, on the 31st of May, 1793, by that of the ferocious mountaineers. The latter warmly reproached TALMA with having, in the year 1792, after the retreat of the Prussians, given a _fete_ or grand supper to the famous DUMOURIEZ, with whom they were beginning to fall out, and whom they accused of treason for not having taken the king of Prussia prisoner. The hideous MARAT, I am told, went to call on that general at TALMA'S, where the company received him very cavalierly, and when he was gone, DUGAZON the actor, hot-headed revolutionist as he was, by way of pleasantry, pretended to purify the room by burning sugar in a chaffing-dish. All this amounted to more than was necessary for being condemned by the revolutionary tribunal; and TALMA, being detested by ROBESPIERRE, would, in all probability, have been delivered over to that tribunal, but for the protection of DAVID, the celebrated painter, who was concerting with him about changing the form of dress of the French people. During all the reign of terror, TALMA and his wife were in continual fear of the scaffold.

LAFOND. TALMA reigned, and was in possession of the first cast of parts. Of these, he played whatever suited him, and rejected what he disliked, when about a year ago, there appeared in the same line a young actor of a rather tall and well-proportioned stature, and whom Nature had, besides, gifted with an agreeable countenance and a tolerably good voice. He had played in the provincial theatres; but, in order to overcome every obstacle which might be opposed to his _debut_, he became a pupil of DUGAZON, an actor of comedy, and what is more singular, of one more frequently a buffoon than a comedian.

The latter, however, is said to possess a knowledge of the style of playing of the actors who, thirty years ago, graced the French stage, and consequently may be capable of giving good advice.

By means of this powerful protection, LAFOND got the better of every difficulty. This actor made his first appearance in the character of _Achille_ in the tragedy of _Iphigenie en Aulide_ by RACINE. He was not the Achilles of Homer, nor even that of the piece, or at best he represented him in miniature. However, his diction generally just, his acting, some grace, and, above all, the fatigue and _ennui_ which TALMA impressed on many of the spectators, procured this rival a decisive success. As is customary in such cases, the newspapers were divided in opinion. The majority declared for LAFOND, and none of the opposite side spoke unfavourably of him. It was not so with TALMA.

Some judged him harshly, calling him a detestable actor, while others bestowed on him the epithet of _sublime_, which, at the present day, has scarcely any signification; so much is it lavished on the most indifferent performers. This instance proves the fact; for if TALMA has reached the _sublime_, it is _le sublime de la Halle_.

These two rivals might live in peace; the parts which suit the one, being absolutely unfit for the talents of the other. TALMA requires only concentered rage, sentiments of hatred and vengeance, which certainly belong to tragedy, but which ought not to be expressed as if they came from the mouth of a low fellow, unworthy of figuring in an action of this kind; and LAFOND is little qualified for any other than graceful parts, bordering on knight-errantry or romance. His best character is _Achille_. I have also seen him perform, if not in a manner truly tragic, at least highly satisfactory, _Rodrigue_ in _Le Cid_ of CORNEILLE, and the part of _Tancrede_ in VOLTAIRE'S tragedy of that name. LAFOND obtains the preference over TALMA in the character of _Orosmane_ in the tragedy of _Zare_; a character which is the touchstone of an actor. Not that he excels in it. He has not a marked countenance, the dignity, the tone of authority, the energy, and the extreme sensibility which characterize this part. He is not the Sultan who commands. He is, if you please, a young _commis_ very amorous, a little jealous, who gets angry, and becomes good-humoured again; but at least he is not a ferocious being, as TALMA represents _Orosmane_, in moments of rage and pa.s.sion, or an unfeeling one in those which require sensibility.

LAFOND is reproached sometimes with a bombastic and inflated tone.

Feeling that he is deficient in the necessary powers, he swells his voice, which is prejudicial to truth, and without truth, there is no theatrical illusion. Nature had intended him for the parts of young lovers, of which I shall presently speak. His features are too delicate, his countenance not sufficiently flexible, and his person bespeaks too little of the hero, for great characters. But when he first appeared, there was a vacancy in this cast of parts, and none in the other.

Jeunes Premiers, _or parts of young Lovers_.

ST. FAL, DAMAS, and DUPONT.

ST. FAL. This performer, who is upwards of forty-five, has never had an exterior sufficiently striking to turn the brain of young princesses. Every thing in his person is common, and his acting is really grotesque. However, not long since he frequently obtained applause by a great affectation of sensibility and a stage-trick, which consists in uttering loud, harsh, and hoa.r.s.e sounds after others faint and scarcely articulated. He has, besides, but a trivial or burlesque delivery, and no dignity, no grace in his deportment or gestures.

DAMAS. He is much younger than ST. FAL, but his gait and carriage are vulgar. He is not deficient in warmth; but all this is spoiled by a manner the most common. He first played at the theatres on the _Boulevard_, and will never be able to forget the lessons he imbibed in that school. It is with him as with the rabbits of which BOILEAU makes mention, in one of his Satires where he describes a bad dinner,

"-------- et qui, nes dans Paris, Sentaient encore le chou dont ils furent nourris."

The _drame_ is the style in which DAMAS best succeeds. There is one in particular, _Le Lovelace Francais_, where he personates an upholsterer of the _Rue St. Antoine_, who has just been cornuted by the young Duke of Richelieu. This part he performs with much truth, and _avec rondeur_, as the critics here express it, to signify plain-dealing. But DAMAS is no less ign.o.ble in comedy than in tragedy.

DUPONT. This young actor, who is of a very delicate const.i.tution, has never had what we call great powers on the stage; and a complaint in his tongue has occasioned a great difficulty in his articulation.

Without having a n.o.ble air, he has something distinguishing in his manner. His delivery is correct; but the defect of which I have spoken has rendered him disagreeable to the public, who manifest it to him rather rudely, though he has sometimes s.n.a.t.c.hed from them great applause.

After all the actors I have mentioned, come the confidants, a dull and stupid set, of whom one only deserves mention, not as an actor, but as an author. This is DUVAL. He has written that pretty comic opera, ent.i.tled _Le Prisonnier_, as well as _Maison a vendre_, and several _drames_, among which we must not forget _Le Lovelace Francais, ou la Jeunesse du Duc de Richelieu_, the piece before-mentioned.

_January 20, in continuation_.

Next follow the daughters of Melpomene, or those heroines who make the most conspicuous figure in Tragedy.

_Characters of Queens_.

Mesdames RAUCOURT and VESTRIS.

Mademoiselle RAUCOURT. Never did _debut_ make more noise than that of this actress, who appeared for the first time on the French stage about thirty years ago, and might then be sixteen or seventeen years of age. She was a pupil of Mademoiselle CLAIRON, who had a numerous party, composed of Encyclopaedists, French academicians, and almost all the literati of Paris. The zeal of her friends, the youth, tall stature, and person of the _debutante_ supplied the place of talent; and her instructress has recorded in her memoirs that all her labour was lost. The success, however, of Mademoiselle RAUCOURT was such, that there were, it is said, several persons squeezed to death at the door of the playhouse. What increased enthusiasm in favour of the young actress was, that a reputation for virtue was granted to her as great and as justly merited as that for talent. Her father declared in the public lobby that he would blow out her brains if he suspected her of having the smallest intrigue. He kept not his word. Besides, it is well known that his daughter always took care to conduct herself in such a manner as to set the foresight even of jealousy at defiance. Her _penchant_ not leaving her the resource to which women of her profession generally recur, and her expenses being considerable, her debts increased; and to avoid the pursuit of her creditors she took refuge in Germany with her tender friend, Mademoiselle SOUK, who has since been mistress to the late king of Prussia. They both travelled over that country, and a thousand reports are circulated to their shame; but the most disgraceful of these are said to be unfounded. The protection of the queen of France, who paid her debts repeatedly, at length restored her to the _Comedie Francaise_. Such inconsiderate conduct did no small injury to that unfortunate princess, whom I mention with concern on such an occasion.

The stature of Mademoiselle RAUCOURT is colossal, and when she presents herself, she has a very imposing look. Her face, however, is not so n.o.ble; she has small eyes, and her features have not that flexibility necessary for expressing the movements of the pa.s.sions.

Her voice was formerly very full in the _medium_ of level-speaking; but it seemed like that of a man. When you heard it for the first time, you thought that, in impa.s.sioned sentences, she was going to thunder; but, on the contrary, she a.s.sumed a very extensive _falsetto_, which formed the most singular contrast with the dull sounds that had preceded it. That defect, perhaps, is somewhat less striking at the present day; but the voice of this actress is become hoa.r.s.e, like that of persons who make a frequent use of strong liquors. The delivery of Mademoiselle RAUCOURT is, in general, just and correct; for she is allowed to have understanding; yet, as she neither has warmth nor sensibility, she produces scarcely any effect.

Plaudits most frequently burst forth when she appears; but, though these are obtained, she never touches the feelings of the spectator, she never reaches his heart, even in the parts, where she has had the most vogue. That of _Medee_, in which she has begun to reestablish her declining reputation, was neither better felt nor better expressed. She was indebted for the success she obtained in it only to the magician's robe, to the wand, and to a stage-trick which consists in stooping and then raising herself to the utmost height at the moment when she apostrophizes the sun. In the scene of Medea with her children, a heart-rending and terrible scene, there was nothing but dryness and a total absence of every maternal feeling.

The characters of queens, which Mademoiselle RAUCOURT performs, are the first cast of parts at the theatre. It consists of those of mothers and a few parts of enraged or impa.s.sioned lovers. In the works of CORNEILLE, the princ.i.p.al ones are _Cleopatre_ in _Rodogune_, and _Cornelie_ in the _Mort de Pompee_. In RACINE'S, the parts of _Athalie_ and of _Phedre_ in the tragedies of the same name, of _Agrippine_ in _Britannicus_, of _c.l.i.temnestre_ in _Iphigenie en Aulide_, and of _Roxane_ in _Bajazet_. In VOLTAIRE'S, those of _Merope_ and _Semiramis_; and, lastly, that of _Medee_ in the tragedy by LONGEPIERRE.

Like all the performers belonging to the _Theatre Francais_, Mademoiselle RAUCOURT was imprisoned during the reign of terror. The patriots of that day bore her much ill-will, and it is a.s.serted that Robespierre had a strong desire to send her to the guillotine. When she reappeared on the stage, the public compensated her sufferings, and to this circ.u.mstance she owes the rather equivocal reputation she has since enjoyed.

Madame VESTRIS. Although she has been a very long time on the Parisian stage, this actress is celebrated only from the famous quarrel she had twenty years ago with Mademoiselle SAINVAL the elder.

Through the powerful protection of the Marshal de DURAS,[8] her lover, she prevailed over her formidable rival, who, however, had on her side the public, and the sublimity of her talent. This quarrel arose from Madame VESTRIS wishing to wrest from Mademoiselle SAINVAL the parts for which she was engaged. A memoir, written by an indiscreet friend, in favour of the latter, which she scorned to disavow, and in which the court was not spared, caused her to be banished from the capital by a _lettre de cachet_. The public, informed of her exile, called loudly for Mademoiselle SAINVAL. No attention was paid to this by the higher powers, and the guard at the theatre was tripled, in order to insure to Madame VESTRIS the possibility of performing her part. Nevertheless, whenever she made her appearance, the public lavished on her hisses, groans, and imprecations. All this she braved with an effrontery, which occasioned them to be redoubled. But, as all commotions subside in time, Madame VESTRIS remained mistress of the stage; while Mademoiselle SAINVAL travelled over the provinces, where the injustice of the court towards her caused no less regret than the superiority of her talent excited admiration.

Madame VESTRIS was rather handsome, and this explains the whole mystery. She had, above all, a most beautiful arm, and paid no small attention to her toilet. She delivers her parts with tolerable correctness, but her tone is heavy and common. The little warmth with which she animates her characters, is the production of an effort; for she neither possesses energy nor feeling. Her gestures correspond with her acting, and she has no dignity in her deportment. She seldom appears on the stage at present, which saves her from the mortification of being hissed. She is now old, and the political opinion of those who frequent most the theatres rouses them against her.

Although the court had really committed itself to favour her, Madame VESTRIS was the first to betray her n.o.ble patrons. At the period of the revolution, she quitted the old _Comedie Francaise_, taking with her DUGAZON, her father, and TALMA, and founded the present theatre, styled _Theatre de la Republique_. She was also followed by several authors; for not being able to conceal from herself the mediocrity of her talents, especially in such parts of the old plays as had been performed by other actresses in a manner far superior, she facilitated the representation of new pieces, in which she had not to fear any humiliating comparison. The princ.i.p.al of these authors were LA HARPE, DUCIS, and CHeNIER. The last, who, besides, is famous as member of the National Convention and other Legislative a.s.semblies, composed the tragedy of _Charles Neuf_, in which Madame VESTRIS, playing the part of _Catherine de Medicis_, affected, I am told, to advance her under-lip, _a l'Autrichienne, in order to occasion comparisons injurious to the ill-fated Marie-Antoinette.[9]

_Characters of Princesses._

Mesdames FLEURY, TALMA, BOURGOIN, and VOLNAIS.

Mademoiselle FLEURY. She has no longer youth nor beauty, and her talents as an actress are much on a par with her personal attractions. She recites with judgment, but almost always with languor, and betrays a want of warmth. Besides, her powers have declined. However, she sometimes displays energetic flashes of a real tragic truth; but they are borrowed, and it is affirmed, not without foundation, that Mademoiselle SAINVAL the elder (who is still living) has been so obliging as to lend them to her.

Madame TALMA. For this name she is indebted to a divorce, having s.n.a.t.c.hed TALMA from his first wife, an elderly woman who had ruined herself for him, or whom he had ruined. She quitted her first husband, a dancing-master of the name of PEt.i.t, to live under the more than friendly protection of Mademoiselle RAUCOURT.----Madame TALMA is not handsome, and is now on the wane. She plays tragedy, comedy, and the _drame_; but has no real talent, except in the last-mentioned line. In the first, she wants n.o.bleness and energy.

Her delivery is monotonous. It is said in her praise, that she has "_tears in her voice_." I believe that it seldom happens to her to have any in her eyes, and that this sensibility, for which some would give her credit, proceeds not from her heart. In comedy, she wishes to a.s.sume a cavalier and bold manner, brought into vogue by Mademoiselle CONTAT. This manner by no means suits Madame TALMA, who neither has elegance in her shape, nor animation in her features. In the _drame_, her defects disappear, and her good qualities remain.

She then is really interesting, and her efforts to please are rewarded by the applause of the public.