Favart, who had loved his wife with all the strength of his nature, was
generous enough to pardon a past in which circumstances had been so
terribly against her. Instead of reproaching her, he preferred to
forget, and in so doing acted wisely; for in Justine, as long as she
lived, he found a devoted friend and a sure counsellor, on whose
sympathy and advice he was always able to rely, and a companion whose
irrepressible gaiety was proof against all the troubles and anxieties of
both family and professional life. But his generosity went no further.
If friendship had survived Justine's last infidelity, love had not. "Fly
from love as from the greatest of all evils," he wrote to his friend at
Strasburg; and, incredible as it may appear, when, not long afterwards,
Justine, piqued, we may presume, by her husband's indifference, formed a
_liaison_ with the eccentric little Abbé de Voisenon, Favart's friend
and reputed collaborator, the poet--this man whom we have seen prefer
persecution, exile, and misery to dishonour--so far from endeavouring to
put a stop to an affair which amounted to a serious scandal, appears to
have regarded it with the utmost complacency.
* * * * *
The removal of their persecutor left the Favarts free to resume their
respective professions, and, on May 3, 1751, Justine reappeared on the
stage of the Comédie-Italienne, in a piece entitled _Les Amants
inquiets_, of which her husband was the author. At the beginning of the
following year, on the death of Riccoboni's wife, she was allotted a
full part in the company, to which she remained a tower of strength for
nearly twenty years; her talents as an actress and a singer being
rivalled by those which she displayed as a dancer, "turning the heads of
the public and securing even the support of the women." Her versatility
seems to have been truly amazing. "_Soubrettes_, heroines, country
girls, simple parts, character parts, all became her," says Favart in
his _Mémoires_; "in a word, she multiplied herself indefinitely, and one
was astonished to see her play the same day, in four different pieces,
parts of the most opposite character." Her powers of mimicry, too,
particularly of the different dialects of France, have seldom been
surpassed. Provincials whose accents she had borrowed could with
difficulty be persuaded that she did not come from the same part of the
country as themselves.
Possessed of exquisite taste in theatrical matters, Justine laboured
strenuously for a reform in stage costume, and was "not afraid to
sacrifice the charms of her countenance to truthfulness of
representation." Before her time, actresses who played the parts of
_soubrettes_ and peasant-girls wore immense _paniers_, with diamonds in
their hair and long gloves reaching to the elbow. But when, in August
1753, she created the rôle of Bastienne in _Les Amours de Bastien et
Bastienne_, a parody of Jean Jacques Rousseau's _Devin du village_,
which she had composed herself in collaboration with Harny, she appeared
on the stage wearing a simple woollen gown, with her hair flat on her
head, a cross of gold on her neck, bare arms, and wooden shoes. The
_sabots_ offended some critics in the pit, and murmurs of disapprobation
were heard. The Abbé de Voisenon, however, saved the situation by a
happy _mot_. "_Messieurs_," he cried, "_ces sabots-là donneront des
souliers aux comédiens_." The pit, appreciating the abbé's wit, broke
into laughter and applause; the malcontents were silenced, and the piece
had so great a vogue that the players grew tired of acting it long
before the attendances showed any signs of diminishing.[148]
Justine, indeed, neglected nothing to arrive at theatrical truth. In
_Les Trois Sultanes_, the plot of which was derived, like several other
of Favart's vaudevilles, from the _Contes moraux_ of Marmontel, she
played the part of Roxelane in a dress "made at Constantinople with the
materials of the country." This was the first occasion on which the
costume of Turkish ladies had been seen upon the French stage, and
though Favart himself declares that it was "at once decent and
voluptuous," it was objected to; and when soon afterwards another play
in which the action passed in the Orient was represented before the
Court, Justine's reforming zeal received an abrupt check by an order
from the Gentlemen of the Chamber to confine herself to the ridiculous
and fantastic costume established by custom.
_Les Trois Sultanes_, it may be mentioned, in spite of the unfavourable
comments passed upon Roxelane's attire, was extraordinarily successful;
and the audience, we are assured, were transported with enthusiasm. A
peasant in the pit, "_rendu fou d'admiration_," demanded of his
neighbour the name of the author, and on being told that it was Favart,
exclaimed: "_Morbleu_! I would that I had that man here; I would embrace
him until I had kissed the skin off his cheeks!"
Justine's passion for local colour was again in evidence when the
interlude called _Les Chinois_ was represented. "She appeared, as did
also the other actors, dressed exactly in the Chinese fashion. The
dresses which she had procured had been made in China, while the
designs for the scenery and properties had in like manner been made on
the spot."
Among other pieces in which Justine appeared with success may be
mentioned _La Servante Maîtresse_, _Ninette à la Cour_, _Annette et
Lubin_, of which she herself was part author, _Les Moissonneurs_, and
_La Fée Urgèle_, "in which," says Voisenon, "she played the part of the
old woman in a manner impossible to imitate." According to the same
authority, Favart was largely indebted for the success of more than one
of his productions to suggestions made by his wife, notably in _Ninette
à la Cour_, in which, too, she was responsible for many of the airs.
It would perhaps have been better for Justine's professional reputation
had circumstances compelled her to retire from the stage some time
earlier than was the case. During her later years, the critics declared
that her voice had become thin and disagreeable, and that her acting had
lost the _naïveté_ which had been its principal charm. She had become,
too, extremely stout, and Madame Necker, then Mlle. Churchod, writing,
in 1764, to Madame de Brenles, mentions that she had seen her playing
Annette, "with a figure twelve feet broad and two high."[149] The public
were more indulgent than the critics; but on December 14, 1769, when she
appeared in a vaudeville by her husband called _La Rosière de Salency_,
she was very coldly received. The poor actress, believing herself
abandoned by the public whose idol she had so long been, and suffering
already from the disease of which she eventually died, played from that
time less frequently, and, at the end of the year 1771, ceased to appear
altogether. On Twelfth-day she was compelled to take to her bed, and
sent for the notaries to make her will. She lingered for four months,
enduring terrible sufferings, during which she continued to occupy
herself with the management of her household, while her gaiety and
insouciance never failed her for a single moment. "One day," says Grimm,
"on recovering from a long swoon, she perceived, among those whom her
danger had hurriedly assembled around her, one of her neighbours rather
grotesquely attired, whereupon she began to smile and remarked that she
believed she saw 'the clown of Death'; a characteristic _mot_ in the
mouth of a dying girl of the theatre."
Almost to the last Justine seems to have cherished a vague hope that she
would ultimately recover, and, for a long time, refused to pronounce the
renunciation of her profession which the curé of her parish demanded,
according to custom, before administering the last Sacraments. Nor was
it until, through the influence of Voisenon, she had obtained a promise
from the Gentlemen of the Chamber that her salary should be preserved to
her, under the form of a pension, in case of retirement, that she
yielded, and exclaimed, smiling: "Oh! for the moment, I renounce it."
She then received the Sacraments and, profiting by a short respite from
pain, composed her own epitaph, which she set to music. She died on
April 21, 1772, at four o'clock in the morning, in her forty-sixth year,
and was buried the same day in the church of Saint-Eustache.
Favart survived his talented wife just twenty years, and died in May
1792. Towards the end of his life, he became almost blind,
notwithstanding which he continued to work for the theatre, besides
keeping up an active correspondence with the Italian dramatist Goldoni,
who came to Paris to visit him in 1791. The most successful of his later
pieces was _La Belle Arsène_, music by Monsigny, produced in 1775.
Of his children by Justine, the only one to call for notice here is his
second son, Charles Nicolas Joseph Favart. Born in 1749, at the age of
twenty-one he was admitted a _sociétaire_ of the Comédie-Française,
where he remained for fifteen years. Though but a moderate actor, he was
a successful dramatist; his best works were _Le Diable boiteux, ou la
Chose impossible_ (1782); _Les Trois Folies_ (1786); _Le Mariage
singulier_ (1787); and _La Vieillesse d'Annette et Lubin_ (1791), the
last in collaboration with his father. His son, Antoine Pierre Charles
Favart (1780-1867), entered the Diplomatic Service, where he gained some
little distinction. He assisted Dumolard in editing the _Mémoires_ of
his grandfather, collaborated in a couple of plays, and was an amateur
painter of some talent.
VI
MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON
For more than seven years after the death of Adrienne Lecouvreur, her
place as a tragic actress remained unfilled. During these years, several
capable _tragédiennes_ appeared, notably Jeanne Gaussin, a beautiful
brunette with a rich and sympathetic voice, who created the part of
Zaïre in Voltaire's tragedy of that name (August 13, 1732), and moved
the delighted poet to address her in the following verses:--
"Jeanne Gaussin, reçois mon tendre hommage;
Reçois mes vers au théâtre applaudis;
Protège-les: _Zaïre_ est ton ouvrage;
Il est à toi, puisque tu l'embellis.
Ce sont tes yeux, ces yeux, si pleins de charmes,
Qui du critique ont fait tomber les armes."[150]
But beautiful as Mlle. Gaussin undoubtedly was, and excellent as was her
acting in Zaïre and other pathetic parts, she fell very far short of the
standard to which her gifted predecessor had attained; nor was it until
August 1737 that an actress worthy to assume the mantle of Adrienne
arose.
This was Marie Françoise Dumesnil, who, like Adrienne, had begun her
career at theatres in the East of France, and, like her, singularly
enough, had received her invitation to Paris while playing at Strasburg.
Her style, which was marked by a high degree of truth to Nature,
refinement, and technical skill, combined with a real enthusiasm for her
art, excited general admiration, and her _début_ was brilliantly
successful. In the classic répertoire her most celebrated rôles were
Cléopâtre, Clytemnestre, and Phèdre; while her most successful creation
was Mérope (February 20, 1743), when, according to Voltaire, she kept
the audience in tears for three successive acts.[151]
After this triumph--the greatest of her career--it may well have been
supposed that Mlle. Dumesnil was destined to maintain her supremacy for
many years to come. Nevertheless, ere six months had passed, she found
her proud position challenged by a most formidable rival.
Claire Joseph Lerys--for that was the name of this rival, and of the
greatest, or, at least, the most celebrated tragic actress of the
eighteenth century, though she styled herself Claire _Josèphe Hippolyte_
Lerys _de Latude-Clairon_, and is known to fame under the last of these
names--was born at Condé, a little town of Hainaut, on January 25, 1723.
Her father was one François Joseph Desiré Lerys, a sergeant in the
Régiment de Mailly; her mother, a working-woman, Marie Claire Scanapiecq
by name; and she was a natural child, a fact which she omits to mention
in the French edition of her _Mémoires_, though she is more candid in
the German edition.[152]
The circumstances attending her birth, which she has herself recounted,
were, it must be admitted, highly significant of her future career:--
"It was the custom of the little town in which I was born for all
persons to assemble during the carnival time at the houses of the
wealthiest citizens, in order to pass the entire day in dancing and
other amusements. Far from disapproving of these recreations, the curé
partook of them and travestied himself with the rest. During one of the
fête days, my mother, who was but seven months advanced in pregnancy,
suddenly brought me into the world, between two and three o'clock in the
afternoon. I was so feeble that every one imagined a few moments would
terminate my career. My grandmother, a woman of eminent piety, was
anxious that I should be carried out at once to the church, in order
that I might there receive the rite of baptism. Not a living soul was to
be discovered either at the church or at the curé's house. A neighbour
having informed the party that all the town was at a carnival
entertainment at the house of a certain wealthy citizen, thither was I
carried with all expedition. Monsieur le Curé, attired as Arlequin, and
his vicar, disguised as Gille, imagining, from my appearance, that there
was not a moment to be lost, hurriedly arranged upon a sideboard
everything necessary for the ceremony, stopped the fiddle for a moment,
muttered over me the consecrated words, and sent me back to my mother a
Christian--at least in name."[153]
When the little girl was twelve years old, she and her mother left
Condé, and, after a short stay at Valenciennes, settled in Paris, where
the latter found employment as a sempstress. The future queen of tragedy
was at this time, according to her own account, a delicate, sensitive
child, with a confirmed dislike to needlework, in consequence of which
she spent the greater part of her days "trembling beneath the blows and
threats of her mother," whom she describes, rather undutifully, as "a
violent, ignorant, and superstitious woman."
However, at length Fate took pity on her. Her mother, yielding to the
remonstrances of the neighbours, who had been "affected by the
appearance of languor to which her misfortunes had reduced her, and her
beauty, voice, intelligence, and the sweetness of her temper when she
was not forced to work at the needle," ceased to belabour her, and, by
way of punishment, took to shutting her up in a room overlooking the
street. Now, it happened that the house immediately opposite the
Scanapiecqs was occupied by the mother of Mlle. Dangeville, the famous
_soubrette_ of the Comédie-Française, and, one day, little Claire,
having mounted a chair to survey the neighbourhood, beheld the idol of
the pit taking a dancing-lesson in the midst of an admiring circle of
relatives and friends. "She was distinguished," she tells us, "for every
charm which Nature and youth could unite in the same person. My very
being came into my eyes; not one of her movements escaped me. She was
surrounded by her family, and when the lesson was over, every one
applauded her, while her mother embraced her. The difference between her
condition and my own penetrated me with the deepest grief; my tears
would not permit me to see anything more. I descended from my chair,
and, when the throbbing of my heart had subsided sufficiently for me to
remount it, all had disappeared."[154]
From that day, little Claire had only one desire: to be placed _en
pénitence_ at the hour at which Mlle. Dangeville was in the habit of
taking her lesson; and, the moment she was alone, she would climb to her
perch and remain there, a motionless and silent, but enthusiastic
spectator of the movements of her fair neighbour. Soon, at first almost
unconsciously, the girl began to imitate what she had seen, and with
such success that those who came to her mother's house thought that she
had been provided with masters. "My manner of entering a room," she
says, "of saluting the company, of seating myself, was no longer the
same; and the improvement I had acquired, added to the graces of my
deportment, obtained for me even the favour of my mother."
At length, unable any longer to keep her secret to herself, and seized
with an intense curiosity to ascertain who this wonderful Mlle.
Dangeville might be, she decided to take into her confidence one of her
mother's friends, who had always treated her a little less as a child
than the majority of visitors to the house. This proved a fortunate
step, for the person in question, pleased with the little girl's
intelligence, not only gave her a good deal of information about Mlle.
Dangeville and the profession which she adorned, but obtained from her
mother--not without considerable difficulty, for the sempstress "saw in
theatrical performances only the road to eternal damnation"--permission
to take her to the Comédie-Française to witness a representation of the
_Comte d'Essex_ and _Les Folies amoureuses_.
Mlle. Clairon, in her _Mémoires_, confesses her inability to give any
account of that never-to-be-forgotten evening. She only recollects that,
during the whole of the performance, her absorption was such as to
prevent her uttering a single word, and that, on returning home, she
neither saw nor heard any one. Angrily dismissed to her room by her
mother, instead of going to sleep, she spent the whole night in
recalling and repeating everything that had been said by the performers
at the theatre, and every one was astonished the next day to hear her
repeat, with scarcely a mistake, a hundred verses of the tragedy and
two-thirds of the after-piece. But this feat of memory was less
surprising than the extraordinary way in which the little girl had
contrived to assimilate the peculiarities of every actor whom she had
seen. She lisped like Grandval, she stammered like Poisson, she mimicked
to a nicety the coquettish airs of Mlle. Dangeville, and the cold and
dignified manner of Mlle. Balicourt;[155] in short, she tells us, she
was looked upon as a prodigy by every one, save her mother, who,
frowning angrily, declared that she would rather see her make a gown or
a petticoat than waste her time over such unprofitable nonsense. Claire,
however, fortified by the praises which she had received, boldly
declared her intention of becoming an actress, and, when the enraged
sempstress threatened to starve her into submission, or "break her arms
and legs," retorted, with the air of a tragedy queen: "Ah, well! you had
better kill me at once, since otherwise I am determined to go upon the
stage."
Marie Scanapiecq did not, it is hardly necessary to remark, attempt to
put her threats into execution; nevertheless, for some two months, she
subjected her unfortunate little daughter to a course of such rigorous
discipline, in the hope of breaking her spirit, that Claire's health
became seriously affected. Then the stern mother began to relent, and,
on the advice of one of her customers, to whom she had confided her
trouble, finally decided to let the girl have her way, and took her to
see the lady in question, who had promised to use her influence to
further her ambitions. The lady presented Claire to Desheys, a prominent
actor of the Comédie-Italienne, who was so favourably impressed with the
little aspirant's abilities that he presented her, in his turn, to his
colleagues, and, after a course of instruction in dancing and music, she
made her _début_ at the "Italians" on January 8, 1736, in a small part
in Marivaux's _Isle des Esclaves_, under the name of Clairon, a
variation of her Christian name of Claire.
Although not yet thirteen, she appears to have acquitted herself with
credit, while the progress she made in her profession was remarkable.
"My industry, my enthusiasm, my memory," says the actress, "confounded
my instructors. I retained everything, I devoured everything."
Nevertheless, whether on account of her youth, her diminutive
stature--she was very short, even for her age--or, more probably,
because her precocious talents had excited the apprehensions of the
famous Arlequin, Thomassin, who had daughters of his own to bring
forward, she did not remain long at the Comédie-Italienne, and, at the
end of a year, found herself obliged to seek her fortune in the
provinces.
It was to Rouen that she went--Rouen, the nursery of the Paris
theatres--Rouen, which had witnessed the first efforts of Marie de
Champmeslé, whose triumphs in tragedy this young girl was one day to
eclipse. The principal theatre there was at this time under the
joint-management of La Noue, author of _La Coquette corrigée_, and Mlle.
Gautier, both, in after years, prominent members of the
Comédie-Française; and Mlle. Clairon was engaged to dance in the ballet,
sing in comic opera, and act in a few parts suited to her age, at a
salary of 100 pistoles, or about 1000 livres. As some compensation for
this meagre remuneration, Marie Scanapiecq, who had accompanied her
daughter, and whose views with regard to the morality of dramatic
performances had undergone a most surprising alteration since she had
discovered that there was money to be made, was installed superintendent
of the box-office.
At Rouen, little Clairon soon became a general favourite, and improved
so rapidly in her acting that, by the time she was sixteen, she was
pronounced to be the most charming _soubrette_ the Norman capital had
ever possessed. The Rouen ladies were very far from sharing the
prejudices of most provincial dames, who believed themselves degraded if
they so much as spoke to an actress, and the girl was invited
everywhere. A certain Madame de Bimorel, wife of a president of the
Parliament of Normandy, and an old flame of the poet Fontenelle, was
particularly kind, and remained her firm friend for more than forty
years.
A gay town was Rouen in those days; a place where a young and pretty
actress could count on receiving almost as much admiration as in the
capital itself. At the theatre they still talked of the _cause célèbre_
arising out of an affray between the Marquis de Cony and the Président
de Folleville, which had taken place some years before; how the marquis,
encountering the president at the house of a certain _danseuse_ whose
heart he had until that moment fondly imagined to be his alone, had
addressed him by an opprobrious name; how the president had retorted by
a blow directed at the nose of the marquis, and how the infuriated
nobleman had thereupon thrown his adversary into the fireplace, with
such violence as to incapacitate him from administering justice for
many a long day to come. Whence arose the lawsuit in question, bringing
with it much glory and fame for the damsel who had been the cause of the
dispute and the profession in general.
As was only to be expected, the charming impersonator of _soubrettes_
had no lack of adorers, and she is reported to have been not altogether
insensible to the devotion of a M. du Rouvray, a handsome youth of good
family, whom she met at Madame de Bimorel's house, and to the more
business-like attentions of a certain rich merchant, named Dubuisson.
She had also a third _soupirant_, whose passion was to occasion her much
tribulation.
Following the example of many actresses' mothers at this period, Marie
Scanapiecq, "whose rigid morals," says her dutiful daughter, "were now
discarded for gaiety and pleasure, and who spoke of her former mode of
life with derision," had converted her house at Rouen into a kind of
_pension_, where gambling and even more questionable practices were
freely permitted, if not actually encouraged. Among those who frequented
the establishment was an actor named Gaillard de la Bataille, "a poor,
rather amusing devil," who possessed that almost indispensable
qualification for a _vainqueur de dames_ in the eighteenth century, the
art of celebrating their charms in verse. To Mlle. Clairon he
consecrated his muse, and every day chanted her praises in couplet or in
quatrain, wherein he vowed that Venus and Vesta were unworthy to be
compared with this adorable, this divine young actress. But alas! he was
not content with this innocent homage; he dared to love her, "and all
the while that he extolled her charms and her virtue, plotted to possess
himself of the first and to destroy the other."