standard she attained as a _tragédienne_. "She only played and shone in
a few rôles," says the _Mercure_. The registers of the Comédie-Française
show that she attempted Célimène, "the touchstone of _grandes
coquettes_," and Elmire in _Tartuffe_; but, as she only figures nine
times in the former character and four times in the latter, we may
presume that her rendering of them could not have been more than
moderately successful. She gave, however, a very pleasing interpretation
of Alcmène in _Amphitryon_, and Hortense in _Le Florentin_, in which
character she made her last appearance on the stage, and, as Angélique,
had a large share in the success of Piron's _Fils ingrats_; while to her
acting in the part of the heroine, Voltaire was much indebted for the
favourable reception accorded to his little comedy _l'Indiscret_. On the
other hand, as the Marquise, in Marivaux's _Surprise de l'amour_, she
seems to have come very near to an absolute failure, the critics
accusing her of giving to what the author intended to be a gay and
frivolous character an air of solemnity and dignity more befitting a
tragedy queen.
Several writers have asserted that Adrienne, not content with
introducing a more natural mode of enunciation, was the pioneer of
reform in theatrical costume. This is only partially true. Adrienne
possessed excellent taste in dress, and was keenly alive to the
absurdity of clothing the heroes and heroines of antiquity in the
costume of the eighteenth century. But her attempts in the direction of
archæological truth do not appear to have been very bold or to have met
with much success; and the first important transformation in this
respect was due to the efforts of Mlle. Clairon and Lekain. She played,
however, Queen Elizabeth, in the _Comte d'Essex_, "in an English Court
costume decorated with the blue riband of the Garter," and the inventory
of her wardrobe, published by M. Georges Monval, in his edition of her
letters, comprise "_douze habits à la romaine_"--or what were believed
to be such--of which two were of white damask, two of crimson velvet,
one of yellow satin, one of blue velvet, two of white satin, and one of
crimson damask, probably that worn by Cornélie in the _Mort de Pompée_.
Several of these costumes were very richly wrought and realised prices
varying from eight hundred to a thousand livres, equivalent, of course,
to much larger sums in money of to-day. The full description of one of
them may not be without interest: "Item, another costume _à la romaine_
of cherry-coloured velvet, composed of a train trimmed with Spanish
point and with bunches of flowers in the train; a petticoat of the same
velvet trimmed with silver Spanish point; the body of the dress of the
same material trimmed with silver Spanish point, and shoulder-knots
likewise trimmed with Spanish point; silver fringes encircling the
shoulder-knots; and two little _amadis_, also trimmed with silver
Spanish point."
It is curious to note, remarks M. Larroumet, the different ideas of what
constituted a correct classical costume which prevailed at various times
on the French stage. Thus, from the beginning of the pseudo-classical
revival in art down to the middle of the nineteenth century, the
tendency was all towards simplicity, and Rachel delighted her audiences
in severely simple robes sparsely embroidered with gold and silver. Then
came the discovery that the ancients, so far from affecting the
austerity in dress with which they had so long been credited, had had a
weakness for rich stuffs and costly ornaments, with the result that the
costumes of the Phèdres and Athalies of to-day bear a much closer
resemblance to the satins and velvets of Adrienne Lecouvreur than the
woollen gowns of Rachel.[75]
* * * * *
The jealousy with which Adrienne was regarded by her colleagues at the
Comédie-Française was not due solely to her professional success;
besides being idolised by the public, she had obtained for herself a
social position which had never been accorded to any of her
predecessors. At this period, actors and actresses still remained on the
borders of society. If exceptionally handsome or talented, they were
flattered and caressed by the _beau monde_, taken for mistresses, or
lovers, or boon companions; but access to regular society was denied
them. The extreme license of morals which characterised the Regency
brought with it no change in this respect; and if, now and again, some
_grande dame_ chose to visit or receive a member of the theatrical
profession, the interview almost invariably took place in private and
often surreptitiously.
That so rigid a rule should have been relaxed in favour of Adrienne
Lecouvreur, and of her alone, is a very remarkable fact and a striking
tribute to the charm which she must have exercised over her own as well
as over the opposite sex. There can, however, be little doubt that a
very great gulf divided her from her colleagues. Not only was she
beautiful and fascinating, but well-read, well-mannered, modest, and
unaffected, and a friend in whose discretion implicit reliance could be
imposed. She numbered among her friends a princess of the blood, the
Duchesse du Maine, the Duc and Duchesse de Gesvres, Madame de Pomponne,
Madame de Fontaine-Martel, the wife of Président Berthier, the
celebrated Marquise de Lambert, admission to whose very exclusive
"Tuesdays and Wednesdays" conferred a sort of brevet of social
distinction, d'Argental and Maurice de Saxe, of both of whom we shall
have a good deal to say presently, the Duc de Richelieu, the Comte de
Caylus, La Chalotais, and Pont-de-Veyle, not to speak of men of letters,
like Du Marsais, Fontenelle, Voltaire, and Piron.
With all of these persons, and many others, Adrienne was not only on
friendly but on intimate terms, dining and supping with them frequently
and visiting them at their country-houses, and giving, in return,
charming little suppers, before each of which, with singular tact, she
invariably requested the guest of the evening to select those whom she
desired to meet.
According to Titon du Tillet, it was Adrienne who introduced the custom
of actresses reciting at private houses. "Mlle. Lecouvreur," says he,
"who was in great request at the best houses in Paris and at the Court,
did not refuse in the assemblies which she attended to declaim some
fine tirades in verse, and even whole scenes from tragedies, which
delighted her hearers. It was a very rare thing for persons of her
profession to recite verses outside the theatre, and I have hardly known
any one, save Baron, who gave people this pleasure."
Unfortunately for Adrienne, her social duties, combined with the arduous
work of her profession, seem to have imposed too great a tax upon her
strength, and in her letters to her friends she complains constantly of
the strain of this double life. The following letter, written in May
1728, probably to Maurice de Saxe, gives us an excellent insight into
her character and also into the life of a "society" actress. Allowing
for the difference in style, it might just as well have been written in
the twentieth as in the eighteenth century:--
* * * * *
"I spend three parts of my time in doing that which displeases me; new
acquaintances, whom, however, it is impossible to escape, so long as I
remain tied as I am, preventing me from cultivating the old or from
occupying myself at home as I should like to do. It is an established
custom for them to sup or dine with me, because some duchesses have done
me this honour. There are persons whose kindness and graciousness charm
me, and they are sufficient for me, but I am unable to devote myself to
them, because I am a public personage, and it is absolutely necessary to
reply to all those who are desirous of making my acquaintance, or else
be considered impertinent. However careful I am, I am continually
offending people. If my poor health, which is delicate, as you know,
obliges me to refuse or to fail some party of ladies whom I have never
seen, and who have no interest in me beyond curiosity: 'Assuredly,'
says one, 'she has a marvellous opinion of her importance!' Another
adds: 'It is because we are not titled!' If I happen to be serious, for
one cannot be very gay with many people one does not know: 'Is this the
girl who has so much wit?' says one of the company. 'Don't you see that
she despises us,' says another, 'and that one must know Greek in order
to please her?' 'She visits Madame de Lambert,' exclaims a third; 'does
not that explain the mystery?' I am still full of spiteful speeches of
this kind, and more occupied than ever in my desire to become free and
to have no longer to pay court, save to those who really will entertain
a kind feeling for me, and will satisfy my heart and my mind. My vanity
does not find that numbers atone for merit in persons, and I have no
desire to shine. To keep my lips closed and listen to good conversation,
to find myself in the delightful society of clever and virtuous people,
is a hundred times more pleasant to me than to be stunned by all the
insipid praises which they lavish upon me right and left in many places
to which I go. It is not that I am wanting in gratitude or in the wish
to please, but I find that the approbation of fools is not flattering,
and that it becomes burdensome when it has to be purchased by individual
and repeated complaisances."
* * * * *
From the above letter, it will be seen that Adrienne's tastes lay in the
direction of a retired and peaceful life in the midst of a small circle
of chosen friends, and that the wearisome round of social pleasures
possessed but few attractions for her. In her exquisitely furnished
house in the Rue des Marais--the same in which Mlle. de Champmeslé and,
after her, Racine had formerly lived, and which, in later years, was to
become the residence of Mlle. Clairon--she spent the greater part of her
scanty leisure, her favourite occupations being reading and music. She
possessed a small but excellent library, containing some four hundred
volumes, dramatic literature and memoirs and historical works
predominating. Among the former were complete editions of the plays of
Molière and Racine; among the latter Échard's _Histoire Romaine_,
Daniel's _Histoire de France_, _Les Révolutions d'Angleterre_ by Père
d'Orléans, and the _Mémoires_ of Madame de Motteville.[76]
* * * * *
That Adrienne should have numbered among her friends of the opposite sex
several who were desirous of establishing a closer relationship with the
charming actress was, of course, only to be expected. Barbier, in his
_Journal_, asserts that one Prungent, intendant of the Duchess of
Brunswick, was her lover, and had "squandered with her the money of the
princess"; while other contemporary writers mention in the same
connection the celebrated Lord Peterborough, the Chevalier de Rohan, and
Voltaire.
Voltaire had been one of the first to appreciate both the talents and
personal qualities of Adrienne, and in a letter to Thiériot, written
shortly after the actress's untimely death, he declares himself to have
been "her admirer, her friend, her lover." The biographers of the lady
are divided in opinion as to whether this last term is to be taken in
its literal, or in its platonic and poetic sense; but whatever may have
been the relations between the _tragédienne_ and the writer, it is
certain that Adrienne found in Voltaire one of the firmest and most
devoted of her friends, who is undoubtedly sincere when he reminds her
"De la pauvre amitié que son coeur a pour elle,"
and who remained tenderly attached to her to the last hour of her life.
However, even if Adrienne yielded in favour of a dramatic author to the
customs of her profession, or, as Lemontey expresses it, was "bound to
Voltaire by the ties of glory and of love which in the preceding century
had united Racine and the Champmeslé," it is improbable that either of
the other persons mentioned were anything more than admirers. The
actress's early experiences of the tender passion had, as we have seen,
been singularly bitter; the selfishness of man had inflicted upon her
the most cruel of humiliations for a loving and sensitive woman, that of
being cast aside like a broken toy when she had surrendered herself in
the most absolute confidence, and she had come to Paris firmly resolved
to remain henceforth mistress of her heart and her actions. The letters
published by M. Monval show that, during the first three years of her
residence in the capital, she replied to several declarations of love by
offers of friendship, explaining her ideas on the subject with singular
frankness.
* * * * *
"If I am unable to render you more happy," she writes to one of her
_soupirants_, "I am more grieved than you yourself. I reproach myself. I
tell myself, without doubt, more than you can tell me; but I could not
deceive you. Caprices do not agree with reason, and love is nothing else
but a folly which I detest, and to which I shall strive hard not to
surrender myself so long as I live. You will understand it yet, and the
severity with which I have treated you will serve then only to render
you more happy. Permit me to approach the matter with you, and to offer
you my counsels. Be my friend; I am worthy of that, but choose for
mistress one who possesses a heart quite untampered with; who has not
yet repented of that trust which renders everything so beautiful; who
has been neither betrayed nor deserted; who believes you such as you
are, and all men such as you. Let her be young and rather strong; she
will be the less sensitive. Finally, see that she gives to you as much
constancy as I should have given, if I had never loved any one save
you."
* * * * *
Among the adorers whom Adrienne rejected, and whose friendship she
nevertheless succeeded in retaining through life, was the Marquis de la
Chalotais, whose famous quarrel with Madame du Barry's _protégé_, the
Duc d'Aiguillon, convulsed all France during the last years of Louis XV.
The future Advocate-General of the Parliament of Brittany was, at the
time when he made Adrienne's acquaintance, a gay young abbé and a great
frequenter of the Comédie-Française, where he paid assiduous court to
its chief divinity, but without obtaining anything save her friendship
and esteem. Having succeeded to the family title and become
Advocate-General at Rennes, he continued to correspond with his former
enchantress, and was in the habit of sending her a present every year.
Only nine days before her death, Adrienne wrote him a charming letter,
thanking him for his gift and assuring him of her lasting regard:--
* * * * *
"When one has been acquainted with a person for ten or twelve years, and
has a kind of attachment for him which is proof against separation and
ought not to injure any one, one may speak without restraint. I assure
you, then, that I love you as much as I esteem you, that I pray for your
happiness and that of all belonging to you, and I entreat you to retain
for me remembrance and more."
* * * * *
In his letter, La Chalotais had expressed regret that it was impossible
for him to take lessons in declamation from Adrienne; and the actress
concludes by very modestly defining her own method of elocution, and
giving her friend some very excellent advice on the subject:--
* * * * *
"You say that you would like me to teach you the art of declamation, of
which you stand in need. You have then forgotten that I do not declaim.
The simplicity of my acting is my one poor merit; but this simplicity,
which chance has turned to my advantage, appears to me indispensable to
a man in your profession. The first requisite is intelligence, and that
you have; the next, to allow beneficent Nature to do her work. To speak
with grace, nobility, and simplicity, and to reserve all your energies
for the argument, are what you will say and do better than any man."
* * * * *
An admirer whom Adrienne had infinitely more difficulty in persuading to
be content with friendship than La Chalotais was Voltaire's faithful
ally, d'Argental. D'Argental, who was then a lad scarcely out of his
teens, conceived for the actress a most violent passion, and, though the
latter repeatedly assured him that friendship was all she had to bestow,
for long refused to abandon hope.
In the meantime, his infatuation had become common knowledge, and his
family, forgetting La Rochefoucauld's maxim that absence, while
extinguishing feeble passions, only adds fuel to great ones, sent him to
England in the hope that separation might effect a cure. With the
consent of his mother, Madame de Ferriol, Adrienne wrote him long and
frequent letters, carefully avoiding, however, the forbidden topic, her
object being to accustom him to regard her merely as a friend. But these
epistles appear to have had a very different effect from the one
intended by the writer; the cure made no progress, and the young man's
family, fearing that the actress was but simulating indifference in
order to augment his passion to the point of offering her marriage,
resolved to remove him altogether out of reach of his enchantress by
banishing him to St. Domingo.
However, no such drastic measures were necessary, for Adrienne, learning
of what was intended, lost no time in writing to the anxious mother a
most charming letter, which had the effect of completely allaying her
apprehensions on the young gentleman's behalf. As all the actress's
biographers concur in pronouncing this letter to be the pearl of her
correspondence, we need make no apology for transcribing it at length:--
* * * * *
"PARIS, _March 22, 1721_.
"Madame,--I cannot learn without being deeply pained of your anxiety and
of the resolves with which this anxiety has inspired you. I might add
that I have been not less grieved by learning that you blame my conduct;
but I write to you less to justify it than to protest that for the
future, in all that concerns you, it shall be such as you may wish to
prescribe. I had requested permission to see you last Tuesday, with the
intention of speaking to you in confidence and of asking you for your
commands. But your reception of me destroyed my ardour, and I found
myself only timid and sad. It is necessary, however, that you should be
aware of my true sentiments, and, if you will permit me to add something
further, that you should not disdain to listen to my very humble
remonstrances, if you do not wish to lose your son.
"He is the most respectful youth and the most honest man that I have met
in my life. You would admire him did he not belong to you. Once again,
Madame, deign to co-operate with me in destroying a weakness which
irritates you, and in which I have no part, whatever you may say. Do not
show him either contempt or harshness. I would prefer to take upon
myself all his hatred, in spite of the friendship, affection, and
veneration that I entertain for him, than expose him to the least
temptation which might cause him to fail in respect towards you. You are
too interested in curing him not to strive earnestly to attain your
object; but you are too much so to succeed in attaining it unaided,
above all, when you endeavour to combat his inclination by the exercise
of your authority, or by painting me in disadvantageous colours, whether
true or not. His passion must indeed be an extraordinary one, since it
has existed so long without the least hope, in the midst of
disappointments, in spite of the journeys you have made him undertake,
and during eight months' residence in Paris, during which he never saw
me, at least not at my house, and was unaware if I should ever receive
him again. I conceived him to be cured, and, for that reason, consented
to see him during my last illness. It is easy to believe that his
society would afford me infinite pleasure, were it not for this unhappy
passion, which astonishes as much as it flatters me, but of which I
decline to take advantage. You fear that, if he sees me, he will depart
from his duty, and you carry this fear to such a point as to take
violent resolutions against him. Assuredly, Madame, it is not just that
he should be rendered unhappy in so many ways. Do not add anything to my
severity; seek rather to console him; make all his resentment fall on
me, but let your kindness serve to reassure him.
"I will write to him whatever you please; I will never see him again, if
such is your wish; I will even withdraw to the country, if you consider
it necessary. But do not threaten to send him to the end of the world.
He may be of service to his country; he will be the delight of his
friends; he will fill you with pride and satisfaction. You have only to
guide his talents, and leave his virtues to act for themselves. Forget
for a time that you are his mother, if this character is opposed to the
kindness that, on my knees, I beg you to extend to him. Finally, Madame,
you will see me prefer to retire from the world, or to love him with the
love of passion, rather than to suffer him to be any more tormented for
me or by me."
* * * * *
Adrienne did not speak of this letter to her adorer, neither did Madame
de Ferriol deem it advisable to communicate it to him; and its
existence, in consequence, remained unknown to d'Argental until
sixty-three years later, when he discovered it by accident among some
old papers which had belonged to his mother.
We may well believe that the old man shed many tears over those faded
pages, for Adrienne, while refusing him her love, had succeeded in
making him the most faithful and devoted of all her friends. The
process of transition, seldom an easy one, had been rendered the more
difficult, inasmuch as, shortly after the above letter was written,
d'Argental had the mortification of seeing another take the place which
had been denied him. However, Adrienne spared no pains to convince him
of the wisdom of her decision, and, at the same time, of the value which
she attached to his affection and regard.
"Do not cease either to be prudent or to love me," she writes. "The
sentiments that I entertain for you are worth more than the most violent
and most disordered passion." And again: "Let my life be the term of
your constancy, my dear friend.... Adieu, my dear friend; I am very
affected in writing to you, and never was I more penetrated by
friendship, affection, and esteem. Adieu; do not forget me entirely, or,
at any rate, do not allow me to imagine so."
D'Argental, like La Chalotais, made the law his profession, and, in due
time, became one of the councillors of the Parliament of Paris. The
gravity expected from one holding such a post, however, in no way
interfered with his intimacy with Adrienne, who was in the habit of
consulting him on all business matters, and, when dying, appointed him
her sole executor.[77]
* * * * *
[Illustration: MAURICE DE SAXE
From an engraving by J. G. WILL, after the painting by HYACINTHE
RIGAUD]
Although there can be little doubt that Adrienne was perfectly sincere
when she declared her conviction that love was "nothing but a folly
which she detested," and that she was still mistress of her heart when
she resisted the first overtures of poor d'Argental, it is not
improbable that at the time she wrote her celebrated letter to Madame de
Ferriol, she had already renounced the wise resolutions with which she
had come to Paris in favour of one whom she loved to her life's end with
a tenderness, a devotion, and a disinterestedness to which even the most
rigid of moralists do not fail to pay tribute.