resources, and, but for the generosity of Mlle. Lamotte of the
Comédie-Française, they would have found themselves in sore straits.
Justine, however, took advantage of the Marshal's absence from Paris to
enter into negotiations with the Comédie-Italienne, and, on August 6,
1749, made her _début_ there, as Marianne in the _Épreuve_ of Marivaux.
Her success was astonishing. "The pit loudly demanded that she should be
received into the company," writes Collé, who was among the audience;
"and, whereas it was the rule not to admit French into the Italian
troupes, or Italians into the French, it was altogether different in her
case; there was a cabal in her favour, and the public had only to make a
noise for the regulation to be set aside." Collé expresses his opinion
that the _habitués_ of the pit, particularly of the Comédie-Italienne,
were becoming "childish and imbecile," and "ought to be placed under
restraint."[137]
Poor Justine's delight at her success ("I have made all Paris rush to
the theatre," she wrote to Favart) was not of long duration. The Marshal
returned from Dresden "more in love with her than ever, notwithstanding
all the reasons he had to complain of her." According to Meusnier, it
had been largely due to his influence with the Gentlemen of the Chamber
that the difficulty in regard to her admission to the Comédie-Italienne
had been so speedily overcome; but, when he asked for his reward, the
lady would have nothing to say to him. "Far from showing the least
sensibility of the Marshal's kindness, she coldly informed him that she
was firmly resolved to live as an honest woman, and to labour for her
salvation. This last example of ingratitude and bad faith confounded the
Marshal."[138]
On September 1 Justine wrote to the fugitive at Strasburg:--
* * * * *
"The Marshal is still furious against me; but I am quite indifferent to
that. He has just written a letter to Bercaville (his secretary),
wherein he charges him to tell our mother (Madame Favart) that, if you
come to Paris, and if she has any affection for you, of which he has no
doubt, she must send you away instantly; and that this counsel was a
last mark of his kindness for her.
"That, as for Mlle. Chantilly, she is deserving of no consideration at
his hands, a fact which ought not to occasion you any vexation.
"Your friends are under the impression that you are travelling in France
for your own diversion. If you wish it, I will consign my _début_ to all
the devils and set out at once to join you. Let me know your wishes, and
I will follow them implicitly.... The house is always crowded on the
nights on which I appear. I have been playing the part of the dancer in
_Je ne sais quoi_, and of Fanchon in _La Triomphe de l'intérêt_. The
ballet of _La Marmotte_ is still being played with success. Your
couplets are always received with applause. The duet which I sing with
Richard is also your work; the mere fact that it is yours ensures my
singing it well. I am threatened with much evil, but I laugh at it; I
will come with all my heart to beg with you.
"I have just learned from your mother and sister that the Marshal wishes
to replace the little Rivière;[139] and, for that purpose, has sent word
to me that he loves me more than ever. Henceforth, it will be no longer
advisable for me to go and pay my court to him.
"If it be not possible for us to remain here, we will go away and end
our days tranquilly in some foreign country. I am for ever your wife and
sweetheart."
* * * * *
When this letter was written, Justine had been for some weeks under
strict surveillance. "On July 16, 1749," writes Meusnier, "I received
orders to keep her under observation, in such a way as to be able to
render an account of all her actions and movements, while the Marshal,
on his side, worked to thwart all her plans." He then relates how he
bribed a servant of the Favarts, named Jacques, to keep watch and ward
over his mistress within doors, while he himself followed her when she
left the house. This kind of thing went on until the beginning of
September, apparently without much result, and then the Marshal "brought
another battery into action."
We have mentioned that Justine's father, M. Duronceray, had not been
present at her marriage with Favart, but had given his consent in
writing. For the past two years he had been confined as a dipsomaniac in
the convent of the Frères de la Charité, at Senlis, apparently on the
application of his daughter, against whom he was, in consequence, much
incensed. The Marshal now determined to make use of this unfortunate man
for his own ends, and, accordingly, obtained his release from the
convent at Sens and had him brought to Paris, where he lost no time in
seeking an interview with the Lieutenant of Police and formally accusing
his daughter of having contracted an illegal marriage, inasmuch as he
had never given his consent to her union with Favart, and the document
purporting to contain it had been a barefaced forgery. This, of course,
was a very serious offence indeed, and, supported by the Marshal, the
worthy M. Duronceray had no difficulty in obtaining a _lettre de cachet_
for the arrest and imprisonment of Justine, whose fate was now entirely
in the hands of her terrible admirer.
The _lettre de cachet_ was granted on September 3; but it was not the
Marshal's intention to allow it to be executed at once. Three days
later, the police-agent, Meusnier, acting under his instructions,
conducted the unconscious instrument of his employer's villainy to a
café adjoining the Comédie-Italienne, where Justine was at that moment
performing. Here, having been well primed with his favourite vintage,
the wretched old man proceeded to regale all whom he could persuade to
listen to him with a harrowing account of his daughter's wickedness and
the terrible things he had suffered at her hands. Finally, he succeeded
in working himself into such a frenzy of indignation that he could with
difficulty be dissuaded from rushing into the theatre and making a
public demonstration against her. "This manoeuvre," writes Meusnier
cynically, "was merely intended to induce the public to believe that
the Marshal had no share in the coup which he was planning, namely, to
cause the Chantilly to be shut up."
Next day, accompanied by a priest, who was well known as a frequenter of
the Jesuit College in the Rue Saint-Jacques, M. Duronceray called upon
the leading members of the Comédie-Italienne, to whom he related his sad
experiences. Mlle. Coraline, Justine's rival in the affections of the
public, was so touched by his account of her colleague's perfidy that
she could not restrain her emotion, whereupon all who were present
followed her example, and the room resounded with lamentations.
Justine would not appear to have been greatly disconcerted by the
manoeuvres of M. Duronceray and his sympathisers; secure in the favour
of a public always very indulgent towards the moral shortcomings of its
idols, she probably felt that she could afford to ignore the gossip of
the _coulisses_. The Marshal, however, pretending to have forgiven her
for her recent rebuff, now sent to warn her that her father was
endeavouring to obtain a _lettre de cachet_ to have her shut up, and
advised her to leave Paris until the storm had blown over. His object
was to induce her to rejoin her husband, when he intended to have them
both arrested. In this, as we shall see, he was only partially
successful.
At the beginning of October, the troupe of the Comédie-Italienne set out
for Fontainebleau, to give a series of performances before the Court.
Justine obtained leave of absence, and, having written to Favart to meet
her at Lunéville, left Paris, on October 7, accompanied by her
sister-in-law, Marguerite Favart, and followed, at a discreet interval,
by Meusnier and a detachment of police, with orders not to interfere
with the actress until they had secured the person of her husband. The
latter, however, succeeded in evading them, in spite of all their
vigilance, and they had to be content with the rather barren honour of
arresting poor Justine; which they did in a very ungallant manner, in
the middle of night, at her inn at Lunéville, nearly frightening her and
her sister-in-law to death in consequence.
Next morning Meusnier and his captives started for Meaux, where the
ladies were separated; Marguerite Favart being permitted to return to
Paris, while Justine, after being kept for some days at Meaux, was
conducted to the Ursuline convent at Les Grands-Andelys, on the borders
of Normandy. On October 20 she wrote to her husband:--
* * * * *
"They have brought me to the convent of Les Grands-Andelys, to the
Ursulines, situated twenty-two leagues from Paris. I have seen the
_lettre de cachet_; it is my father who has caused me to be placed here.
Do not lose an instant; send all our papers [_i.e._ the papers connected
with their marriage] to the Minister, M. d'Argenson, and especially my
father's consent, signed with his own hand; it is in the keeping of the
curé of Saint-Pierre-aux-Boeufs. Collect our witnesses, and take them
with you to the Minister. If it is my father who is persecuting us in
this manner, the truth will be revealed, and we shall speedily have
justice done us. If this trouble is due to some of our enemies, they may
do as they please; their influence may perhaps be sufficient to separate
us for life, but they can never prevent us loving one another, nor break
the sacred and honourable tie which binds our hearts together.
"I have just written to the Maréchal de Saxe about what has befallen us;
he has always shown much friendship for us. I am sure that he will be
willing to interest himself in our affairs and render us assistance on
this occasion.
"_P.S._--Do not commit the folly of coming to seek me here."
* * * * *
A week later, she writes again:--
* * * * *
"I am in a good convent, where they pay me every imaginable attention.
Spare no pains to justify our marriage with the Minister. You must write
to M. de Paumi;[140] he can do us a service with my father. You need not
write to the Maréchal de Saxe to ask his protection; he has rendered us
too many services to refuse to assist us on the present occasion.
"If I had wished, I might have escaped what has befallen me; I had only
to accept the retreat which a person[141] who warned me of the _lettre
de cachet_ obtained against me offered me; but I had no desire to do
so."
* * * * *
A few days after the first of these letters was written, Justine
received a letter from the Marshal, in answer to one which she had sent
him from Commercy, on her way to Lunéville. In this he attributed her
misfortunes to the action of the leaders of the _dévots_, or devout
party, at the Court, who were always eager to punish persons who
contravened the marriage laws, and "did not easily let go their prey."
"Favart," he adds, "ought to feel highly flattered that you should
sacrifice for him fortune, pleasure, glory, everything, in short, that
might have made the happiness of your life. I hope that he will be able
to compensate you for it, and that you will never feel the sacrifice
which you are making.... You would not make my happiness and your own.
Perhaps you will make your own unhappiness and that of Favart. I do not
wish it, but I fear it.--Farewell."
At the same time, the hypocritical Marshal wrote to the actress Mlle.
Fleury, who had exchanged the rôle of mistress for that of confidante,
expressing the grief he felt on hearing of the arrest of the "little
fairy," whom he had "imagined out of danger." "How I pity that poor
mother [Madame Favart], who is a courageous and sensible woman! I have
been her friend since the first time I spoke to her. Tell her that I
will do my best, and as she and Favart have not a sou, beg her to accept
fifty louis, for which you will find an order enclosed. That will help
them for the present, and I promise them assistance in every way for the
future." He then declares his opinion that the person responsible for
the trouble is the priest who had accompanied Justine's father on his
visits to the leading members of the Comédie-Italienne, and that every
effort should be made to discover him, if necessary, by bribing Meusnier
to reveal his whereabouts.
The money offered by the Marshal was refused by Favart, nor could the
old lady and her daughter be prevailed upon to accept it.
Early in November, Justine was removed from Les Grands-Andelys to a
convent at Angers. Her new residence was one of the regular _couvents de
force_, or houses of detention, where the most rigorous discipline
prevailed, and she was treated "like a State criminal." This, as the
worthy Marshal had of course foreseen, rendered her supremely
miserable, and all the more eager to recover her liberty. To do her
justice, however, she would appear to have been far more exercised over
the fate of her husband and his mother and sister, left, through his
misfortune, almost entirely without resources, than over her own
troubles; for, on November 6, we find Maurice writing from Chambord:--
* * * * *
"The great attachment that you entertain for Favart and his relatives is
very praiseworthy; but I doubt whether it is advisable to manifest it so
clearly, since it is certain that it is this same great attachment which
has placed you in the vexatious position in which you now find yourself.
I leave to your good sense to judge of the value of what I take the
liberty of observing in regard to this matter.... What is certain, is
that he has not been arrested, and that he is well, and that none of his
relatives are in danger of dying, as you appear to fear. They are all
very tranquil, and have not taken any steps to secure your liberation. I
do not comprehend their reasons."
* * * * *
As time went on, the captive became a prey to the deepest despair. "Life
is a burden to me; I loathe it," she writes to Maurice, dating her
letter "December 40th," doubtless to express more forcibly the length
and dreariness of her days. "I desire to die, in order that every one
may be satisfied; I am living in a state of despair. Never can I recover
from the blow that has brought all this upon me."
On his side, the Marshal advised patience, assuring her that he was
doing everything in his power to procure her release, but that the
difficulties with which he had to contend were very great, inasmuch as
it appeared that her father had acted at the instigation of a band of
religious fanatics, whose names he had not yet been able to ascertain.
If he could find M. Duronceray, he might wring the truth from him, but,
unfortunately, up to the present, all attempts to discover his
whereabouts had proved fruitless. M. Duronceray, it may be mentioned,
was at this time at Ormeaux, near Vincennes, in charge of one of
Maurice's agents!
In the same letter, he tells her that Favart--the poor man was then
hiding in a cellar in the house of a village priest in Lorraine--had
paid a visit to Paris, and been seen by several persons; that he was
informed that no steps would be taken against him by the police, so long
as he remained quiet, and that he had appeared very far from
inconsolable at his wife's captivity: "The race of poets does not take
things so much to heart. Voltaire has produced two tragedies since the
death of Madame du Châtelet, though it was said that he was dead also,
because he was believed to be much attached to that lady. But to die,
_malpeste_! an author's feelings do not carry him as far as that: they
are too familiar with fiction to love reality up to that point."[142]
At length, about the middle of December, when the Marshal considered
that his victim had had enough of conventual life to induce her to
become amenable to reason, he informed her that, thanks to his untiring
efforts on her behalf, she would, in all probability, be shortly
released and exiled a certain distance from Paris. He was as yet, he
said, in ignorance of the place to which she was to be sent, but was
hopeful that it would be within easy distance of the capital, so that he
might be able to assist her "_de toutes les choses agréables et
utiles_." Justine, overjoyed at the prospect of a speedy end to her
captivity, replied, begging him "in God's name not to deceive her," and
declaring that she was suffering torments from uncertainty. "I await
news from day to day with the utmost impatience since you have given me
hope of being able to leave this villainous house. Every time that the
bell rings, I have terrible palpitation of the heart. I believe that it
is some one come to fetch me. I bound to the door, and, when I find that
it is not I whom they seek, I return, covered with confusion, to shut
myself up in my little cell and weep, like a little child who has been
beaten for ten or twelve days. That is the life I am leading. When I
leave here, I shall imagine that I am seeing daylight for the first
time. I do not thank you for all your kindness, nor for all the
obligations under which you have placed me; they are numberless, and I
should never make an end. I know that you do not care for compliments,
and I will therefore merely tell you that, so long as I live, I shall
use every endeavour to prove to you my gratitude and appreciation of all
that you are doing for us. Monseigneur, I implore you in mercy to take
me from this place; you will be performing a work of mercy in releasing
a poor little prisoner who has never deserved to be one. I eagerly await
this good news from you."
In the closing days of the year, Justine received another letter from
the Marshal, written from his château at Piples, near
Boissy-Saint-Léger, in which he informed her that orders had been given
for her release, and only awaited the signature of the Comte d'Argenson,
the Minister for Paris, who was, at that moment, too ill to attend to
any matters not of the first importance. The letter concluded with the
following very significant words, in a woman's handwriting, probably
that of the Marshal's ex-mistress and confidante, Mlle. Fleury: "Your
friends do not forget you, my dear Jantillesse,[143] and love you
always; but, in God's name, become reasonable; think of your own
happiness and that of those dear to you."
On the other hand, Justine's sister-in-law, Marguerite Favart, who had
evidently discovered the secret of the persecution which the luckless
couple were undergoing, wrote to the captive, apparently in answer to a
letter from Angers, entreating her to be firm, and to refuse to purchase
liberty at the price which would no doubt be set upon it:--
* * * * *
"If you think, as you show you do, my dear sister-in-law, I do not see
how you can hesitate as to the course you ought to take, since you are
in a position to do as you please. It was not necessary to ask the
advice of my brother. You ought to know him well enough to be sure that
he would not give you any counsel different from that which he has
always given. He knows of no arrangement that can be made with infamy;
the most cruel punishments would not terrify him, nor could he be
seduced by the most brilliant advantages. He escaped, for a time, from
the rest of the evils prepared for him, and did not do so for his own
sake. The loss of you had rendered his life odious to him; but he
yielded to our alarms; he feared the despair of a mother and a sister
already afflicted by the misfortunes which had overtaken him. His son,
ourselves, and yourself are the only objects of his hopes and fears.
That is all that can interest him now. He has lost, through these
continual persecutions, his friends, his protectors, his property, his
talents, his health, and all his resources. Nevertheless, he will
consider all atoned for when he finds in you sentiments worthy of him.
He does not ask to be their object: honour alone must determine you.
Content with loving you, he demands nothing in return; knowing, by sad
experience, that the heart is not to be commanded. If it be true that
you have been detained by force, now that you are free, you will find
with us a poor but honourable asylum. Although everything has been done
to cast upon my brother and upon us part of the disgrace in which you
have been immersed, no one has been deceived, save ill-informed or
ignorant persons. Our poverty, our sufferings, justify us in the eyes of
sensible people; for which reason our condition has become dear to us:
by contenting yourself with it, you can justify yourself also. Such are
the sentiments of my brother and ourselves. I inform you of them by my
mother's orders. Adieu, my good friend; your affectionate sister
embraces and awaits you. Adieu."[144]
* * * * *
Several historians are of opinion that Justine followed her
sister-in-law's advice, and that Maurice, in despair of bending her to
his will, placed no further obstacles in the way of her release. Such,
unfortunately, was not the case. Early in January 1750, the actress was
released from the convent at Angers, and exiled to Issoudun, in Berri.
On February 10, she obtained permission from Berryer, the Lieutenant of
Police, to absent herself for a month from her place of exile, a
permission which was renewed at the expiration of that period. Where did
she spend the time? The answer is to be found in the report of
Meusnier:--
"But as M. de Loewdahl [Marshal Löwendal, the lieutenant and friend of
Maurice] is visiting the Marquis de Castelnau in the vicinity of
Issoudun, the Marshal has caused the Chantilly to be sent to Chambord,
and thence to Piples, where she has been about six weeks, under the
charge of Mouret, wife of the concierge of Chambord."[145]
The evidence of Meusnier is confirmed by the Abbé de Voisenon, than whom
no one was better acquainted with the private affairs of the Favarts:--
"The Marshal, angered by her resistance, caused her to be carried off,
and threatened to have Favart killed, if she refused to surrender
herself to him. She was terrified, and, through love for her husband,
was unfaithful to him.... The Marshal died; and, as the Chantilly
mingled with the favours that were snatched from her the most cruel
reproaches, she scarcely obtained any advantage besides her
freedom."[146]
Towards the end of the following June, the _lettres de cachet_ against
Justine and her husband were revoked, and they were permitted to return
to Paris. Poor Favart had been reduced to terrible straits. Almost
penniless and firmly convinced that all the police in the realm were at
his heels, he had for some months past, as we have mentioned, been
hiding in a cellar in the house of a compassionate village priest in
Lorraine, earning a precarious livelihood by painting fans by the light
of a lamp. The cruel treatment he had received had impaired his health
and broken his spirit, and he received the news that his trials were at
an end with feelings of positive indifference. "It seems," wrote he to a
friend who had sheltered him at Strasburg, "that they are tired of
persecuting me; my exile is over, but I am none the happier for that; my
sorrows are of a kind that can end only with my life."
Three months after this letter was written (November 30, 1750), Maurice
de Saxe died at Chambord,[147] and poor Favart could breathe freely once
more. The poet might have been pardoned had he sought consolation for
his sufferings in some biting epigram at the expense of the man who had
wronged him so cruelly. But his kindly and inoffensive nature was
incapable of malice, and he behaved with a moderation almost amounting
to magnanimity. "I think," he wrote to one of his friends, "that I may
be allowed to say on the death of this illustrious man of war, what the
father of our theatre said of Cardinal de Richelieu:--
"Qu'on parle bien ou mal du fameux maréchal,
Ma prose ni mes vers n'en diront jamais rien:
Il m'a fait trop de bien pour en dire du mal;
Il m'a fait de mal pour en dire du bien."