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JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS
TO VICTOR HUGO
THE NEW FRANCE, BEING A HISTORY FROM THE ACCESSION OF LOUIS PHILIPPE IN
1830 TO THE REVOLUTION OF 1848, with Appendices
By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. Translated into English, with an introduction
and notes by R. S. GARNETT.
_In two volumes, Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, profusely illustrated with a
rare portrait of Dumas and other pictures after famous artists.
24/-net._
The map of Europe is about to be altered. Before long we shall be
engaged in the marking out. This we can hardly follow with success
unless we possess an intelligent knowledge of the history of our Allies.
It is a curious fact that the present generation is always ignorant of
the history of that which preceded it. Everyone or nearly everyone has
read a history--Carlyle's or some other--of the French Revolution of
1789 to 1800; very few seem versed in what followed and culminated in
the revolution of 1848, which was the continuation of the first.
Both revolutions resulted from an idea--the idea of _the people_. In
1789 the people destroyed servitude, ignorance, privilege, monarchical
despotism; in 1848 they thrust aside representation by the few and a
Monarchy which served its own interests to the prejudice of the country.
It is impossible to understand the French Republic of to-day unless the
struggle in 1848 be studied: for every profound revolution is an
evolution.
A man of genius, the author of the most essentially French book, both in
its subject and treatment, that exists (its name is _The Three
Musketeers_) took part in this second revolution, and having taken part
in it, he wrote its history. Only instead of calling his book what it
was--a history of France for eighteen years--that is to say from the
accession of Louis Philippe in 1830 to his abdication in 1848--he called
it _The Last King of the French_. An unfortunate title, truly, for while
the book was yet a new one the "last King" was succeeded by a man who,
having been elected President, made himself Emperor. It will easily be
understood that a book with such a title by a republican was not likely
to be approved by the severe censorship of the Second Empire. And, in
fact, no new edition of the book has appeared for sixty years, although
its republican author was Alexandre Dumas.
During the present war the Germans have twice marched over his grave at
Villers Cotterets, near Soissons, where he sleeps with his brave father
General Alexandre Dumas. The first march was en route for Paris; the
second was before the pursuit of our own and the French armies, and
while these events were taking place the first translation of his long
neglected book was being printed in London. _Habent sua fata tibelli._
Written when the fame of its brilliant author was at its height, this
book will be found eminently characteristic of him. Although a history
composed with scrupulous fidelity to facts, it is as amusing as a
romance. Wittily written, and abounding in life and colour, the long
narrative takes the reader into the battlefield, the Court and the Hôtel
de Ville with equal success. Dumas, who in his early days occupied a
desk in the prince's bureaux, but who resigned it when the Duc d'Orleans
became King of the French, relates much which it is curious to read at
the present time. To his text, as originally published, are added as
Appendices some papers from his pen relating to the history of the time,
which are unknown in England.
[Illustration: _Victor Hugo and Juliette Drouet_]
JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS
TO VICTOR HUGO
EDITED WITH A BIOGRAPHY OF JULIETTE DROUET
BY
LOUIS GUIMBAUD
TRANSLATED BY
LADY THEODORA DAVIDSON
WITH A PHOTOGRAVURE FRONTISPIECE
AND 36 ILLUSTRATIONS IN HALF-TONE
LONDON
STANLEY PAUL & CO
31 ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C.
_First published in 1915_
FOREWORD
A poet, a great poet, loves a princess of the theatre. He is jealous. He
forces her to abandon the stage and the green-room, to relinquish the
hollow flattery of society and the town; he cloisters her with one
servant, two or three of his portraits, and as many books, in an
apartment a few yards square. When she complains of having nothing to do
but wait for him, he replies: "Write to me. Write me everything that
comes into your head, everything that causes your heart to beat."
Such is the origin of the letters of Juliette Drouet to Victor Hugo.
They are not ordinary missives confided to the post and intended to
assure a lover of the tender feelings of his mistress: they are notes,
mere "scribbles," as Juliette herself calls them, thrown upon paper hour
by hour, cast into a corner without being read over, and secured by the
lover at each of his visits, as so many trophies of passion.
When Juliette Drouet's executor, M. Louis Kock, died in Paris on May
26th, 1912, he had in his possession about twenty thousand. He had added
to them the letters of James Pradier to our heroine, those of Juliette
to her daughter, Claire Pradier, and the answers of Claire Pradier to
her mother.
This collection of documents passed into the hands of a Parisian
publisher, Monsieur A. Blaizot, who has been so good as to allow us to
examine them and compile from them a volume concerning Victor Hugo and
his friend.
At first sight the task presented grave difficulties--nay, it seemed
almost impossible of execution. To begin with, it would have been futile
to think of publishing the whole of the twenty thousand letters; in the
second place, it might appear a work of supererogation to reconstruct
from them in detail the story of a _liaison_ well known to have been
uneventful, almost monotonous, and more suggestive of a litany or the
beads of a rosary than of tragedy or a novel.
We have attempted to surmount these objections in the following manner:
In the first portion we present the biography of Juliette Drouet in the
form of a series of synthetic tableaux, each tableau summarising several
lustres of her life. We thus avoid the long-drawn-out narrative, year by
year, of an existence devoid of incident or adventure.
In the second, we publish those letters which strike us as peculiarly
eloquent, witty, or lyrical. In the light shed upon them by the
preliminary biography, they form, as one might say, its justification
and natural sequel.
At the outset of her _liaison_ with the poet Juliette does not date her
"scribbles"; she merely notes the time of day and the day of the week,
until about 1840; we have therefore been obliged to content ourselves
with the classification effected by her in the collection of her
manuscripts, and preserved by her executor.
From 1840 she dated every sheet. Consequently our work simultaneously
achieves more precision and certainty.
When its difficulties have seemed insuperable, we have derived valuable
encouragement from the sympathy of the literary students and friends who
had urged us to undertake it, or were assisting us in its execution. We
have pleasure in recording our thanks to the following: MM. Louis
Barthou, Beuve, A. Blaizot, François Camailhac, Eugène Planès, Escolier,
etc. b We have often wondered what the charming woman whose ideals,
tastes, and habits have, by degrees, become almost as familiar to us as
her handwriting, would have thought of our efforts. As far as she
herself is concerned there can be but little doubt. She would have made
fun of the undertaking. By dint of moving in the society of men of high
literary attainments she had acquired a very modest estimate of her own
wit and talent. In 1877, when the architect Roblin one day discovered
her sorting out her "scribbles," he thought she was attempting to write
a book and gravely asked her "when it was to be published." "What an
idea!" she cried, and burst out laughing.
Such was not the opinion of Victor Hugo, however. That perfect artist
attached the utmost importance to the writings of his friend. Each time
she wished to destroy them he commanded her to preserve them. Whenever
she proposed to bring them to a close, he insisted upon her continuing.
We possess an unpublished letter from the poet in which he exclaims:
"Your letters, my Juliette, constitute my treasure, my casket of jewels,
my riches! In them our joint lives are recorded day by day, thought by
thought. All that you dreamed lies there, all that you suffered. They
are charming mirrors, each one of which reflects a fresh aspect of your
lovely soul."
Surely such a phrase conveys approbation and sanction sufficient for
both Juliette Drouet and her humble biographer.
CONTENTS
PART I
_BIOGRAPHICAL_
CHAPTER I
PAGE
JULIENNE GAUVAIN 1
CHAPTER II
PRINCESSE NÉGRONI 14
CHAPTER III
"LA TRISTESSE D'OLYMPIO" 33
CHAPTER IV
THE SHACKLES OF LOVE 45
CHAPTER V
CLAIRE PRADIER 69
CHAPTER VI
"ON AN ISLAND" 84
CHAPTER VII
"THAT WHICH BRINGS SATISFACTION TO THE HEART" 104
PART II
_LETTERS_ 115
APPENDIX
I. LIST OF THOSE OF VICTOR HUGO'S POEMS
WHICH WERE INSPIRED BY JULIETTE
DROUET 311
II. BOOKS CONCERNING JULIETTE DROUET 314
III. WORKS OF ART REPRESENTING JULIETTE
DROUET 314
INDEX 317
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
VICTOR HUGO AND JULIETTE DROUET _Photogravure Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
THE CHÂTEAU OF FOUGÈRES IN 1831 1
CLAIRE PRADIER AS A CHILD 8
VICTOR HUGO AS A YOUNG MAN 16
JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RÔLE OF LA PRINCESSE NÉGRONI 24
JULIETTE DROUET IN THE RÔLE OF LA PRINCESSE NÉGRONI 32
HOUSE IN THE VILLAGE OF LES METZ, IN THE PARISH OF
JOUY-EN-JOSAS, SEINE-ET-OISE 32
CHURCH OF BIÈVRES, SEINE-ET-OISE 40
VICTOR HUGO ABOUT 1836 48
"LE CITOYEN VICTOR HUGO JOUANT AU CONGRÈS DE LA PAIX" 64
CLAIRE PRADIER AT FIFTEEN 72
CLAIRE PRADIER ON HER DEATHBED 80
JULIETTE DROUET IN JERSEY 88
VICTOR HUGO IN JERSEY 96
VICTOR HUGO, HIS FAMILY, AND JULIETTE DROUET AT HAUTEVILLE HOUSE 104
JULIETTE DROUET IN 1883 112
CLAIRE PRADIER 120
JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1830 128
A PAGE OF JULIETTE DROUET'S NOTE-BOOK IN 1834 136
AUTOGRAPH LETTER FROM JULIETTE DROUET TO HER DAUGHTER CLAIRE 144
VICTOR HUGO 160
CARICATURE OF MLLE. GEORGE, BY VICTOR HUGO 176
PORTRAIT OF VICTOR HUGO BY HIMSELF 176
AUTOGRAPH AND DRAWING BY JULIETTE DROUET 192
THE BRIDGE OF MARNE 208
A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET 224
JULIETTE DROUET IN 1846 232
VICTOR HUGO, RÉPUBLICAIN 240
DRAWING BY VICTOR HUGO, SIGNED "TOTO" 256
THE FLOWER AND THE BUTTERFLY 256
JULIETTE DROUET'S HAND 272
VICTOR HUGO, BY RODIN 288
JULIETTE DROUET ABOUT 1877 296
THE DEATHBED OF VICTOR HUGO 304
A DEDICATION BY VICTOR HUGO TO JULIETTE DROUET 304
BOOK-PLATE DESIGNED FOR JULIETTE DROUET BY VICTOR HUGO 312
[Illustration: THE CHÂTEAU OF FOUGÈRES IN 1836.
Unpublished drawing by Victor Hugo.]
JULIETTE DROUET'S LOVE-LETTERS TO VICTOR HUGO
PART I
_BIOGRAPHICAL_
CHAPTER I
JULIENNE GAUVAIN
An irregular outline, sombre colouring, a tangle of towers, steeples,
high gables and ramparts, steep passages built in the form of steps:
such was the town of Fougères at the beginning of the nineteenth
century. The principal features of its surroundings were a turbulent
river waging unceasing conflict with numerous mills, uncultivated
wastes, more footpaths than lanes, and more lanes than high-roads.
This former hot-bed of _chouans_ was an appropriate birthplace for a
heroine of romance--and there, on April 10th, 1806, was born Julienne
Joséphine Gauvain, subsequently known as Mademoiselle Juliette, and
later still, as Madame Drouet.[1]
Her father was a humble tailor living in a suburb of the town, on the
road between Fougères and Autrain; her mother kept the little home.
Madame Drouet was somewhat proud of her humble origin; she wrote: "I am
of the people," as others might boast "I am well born"; she wished
thereby to explain and excuse her taste for independence, her fiery
temper, and her impulsive nature. She might equally have attributed
these to the neglect she suffered in early infancy.
For she had no parents to guard or train her. Her mother died on
December 15th, 1806, before the infant could lisp her first words. On
September 12th in the following year the father dragged himself to the
public infirmary at Fougères, and there breathed his last. The infirmary
took over the charge of the orphan, and was about to place her with the
foundlings--indeed, the necessary formalities had already been complied
with--when a protector suddenly came forward, a certain worthy uncle.
His name was René Henri Drouet. He was thirty-two years old, a
sub-lieutenant of artillery, had seen active service in eight campaigns
under Napoleon, and been wounded in the foot by the blow of an axe. The
wound was such that some very quiet employment had to be provided for
him. The ex-artilleryman was turned into a coast-guard, and dawdled out
a bored existence in the little Breton port where fate confined him
henceforth. He claimed Julienne, and she was handed over to his care.
It would be foolish to pretend that this retired warrior was a suitable
person to undertake the training of a little girl. He understood only
how to spoil and caress her. Never did child enjoy a wilder, more
vagabond childhood. Julienne never got to the village school, because on
the way thither glimmered a large pond bordered by clumps of bushes.
Among the latter she would conceal her shoes and stockings, and, wading
into the water, blue as the skies above, gather starry water-lilies.
When she came out, more often than not she failed to find the
hiding-place, and ran home bare-footed, with hair floating in the wind
and a frock torn to ribbons. But she only laughed, and was forgiven
because she made such a winsome picture in her tatters and her wreath of
flowers. Those were halcyon days--days filled with innocent joys and
elemental sorrows: a fruit-tree robbed of its burden under the indulgent
eye of the old coastguard in his green uniform, the death of a tame
linnet. All her life Julienne's memory would dwell pleasurably on those
early delights. Nothing could curb her natural wildness, not even the
gate of a cloister or the rule of St. Benedict.
Among René Henri Drouet's female relations he counted a sister and a
cousin, nuns in a great Parisian convent, the Bernardines-Bénédictines
of Perpetual Adoration. Their house was situated in the Rue du
Petit-Picpus. When Julienne was ten years old he easily managed to have
her admitted to the school attached to the convent, and thenceforth the
orphan's path in life seemed settled: she should first become a
distinguished pupil, then a pious novice, and lastly a holy nun. But, as
events turned out, Julienne was only to carry out the first part of the
programme.
From the description left us by Madame Drouet and transcribed in full
by, Victor Hugo in _Les Misérables_, the house in the Petit-Picpus
was none too cheerful; its first welcome to the child was more
sombre than any drama she was to figure in, later, as an actress.
Padlocked gates, dark corridors, bare rooms, a chapel where the
priest himself was concealed behind a veil--such was the scene; black
phantoms with shrouded features played the parts; the action was
composed of interminable prayers and stringent mortifications. The
Bernardines-Bénédictines slept on straw and wore hair shirts, which
produced chronic irritation and jerky spasms; they knew not the taste
of meat or the warmth of a fire; they took turns in making reparation,
and no excuse for shirking was permitted. Reparation consisted in
prayers for all the sins and faults of omission and commission, all
the crimes of the world. For twelve consecutive hours the petitioner
had to kneel upon the stone steps in front of the Blessed Sacrament,
with clasped hands and a rope round her neck; when the fatigue
became unbearable, she prostrated herself on her face, with her arms
outstretched in the form of a cross, and prayed more ardently than
before for the sinners of the universe. Victor Hugo, who gathered
these details from the lips of Madame Drouet, declared them sublime,
while she who had personally witnessed their painful passion, retained
a profound impression for life, coupled with a strong sense of
Catholicism, and the gift of prayer.
Outside of these austerities the pupils of the school conformed to
nearly all the practices of the convent. Like the nuns, they only saw
their parents in the parlour, and were not allowed to embrace them. In
the refectory they ate in silence under the eye of the nun on duty, who
from time to time, if so much as a fly flew without permission, would
snap a wooden book noisily. This sound, and the reading of the _Lives of
the Saints_, were the sole seasoning of the meal. If a rebellious pupil
dared to dislike the food and leave it on her plate, she was condemned
to kneel and make the sign of the cross on the stone floor with her
tongue.
Neither the licked cross nor the meagre fare ever succeeded in damping
Julienne's spirits. She preserved the beautiful spontaneity and love of
fun of her early years. She was the spoilt child of the convent where
her aunts, Mother des Anges and Mother Ste Mechtilde, appear to have
wielded a kindly authority. She soon became its _enfant terrible_. Once,
when she was about twelve years old, she threw herself into the arms of
a nun and cried, devouring the outer walls with her eyes: "Mother,
mother, one of the big girls has just told me I have only got nine years
and ten months more to stay here: what luck!" And another time she
dropped on the pavement of the cloister a confession written on a sheet
of paper so that she might not forget its items: "Father, I accuse
myself of being an adulteress. Father, I accuse myself of having stared
at gentlemen."
One might well ask who were the gentlemen concerned, for in the convent
of Petit-Picpus there were no male professors; only the most
distinguished among the nuns assumed the duty of instructing the young
boarders. Judging from the eloquence which will be found later in Madame
Drouet's letters, the Bernardines-Bénédictines must have accomplished
their task with great thoroughness. Julienne learned from them, if not
orthography and cultivated style, at least sincerity, and the point
that, before attempting to write, one should have something to say. She
also studied accomplishments. Mother Ste Mechtilde possessed a beautiful
voice. She was consequently appointed mistress of ceremonies and of the
choir, and used to train her niece and other pupils. Her habit was to
take seven children and make them sing standing in a row according to
their ages, so that they looked like a set of girlish organ-pipes.
History does not relate whether Julienne sang better than the others,
but a little later she began to nurse in secret the idea of utilising
her gifts as a virtuoso. At Petit-Picpus she also learned to sketch and
paint in water-colours. She owed this instruction to the favour of the
pious nuns, who, as a special breach of their rule, authorised her to
take lessons from a young master, Redouté.
It may not be too bold to declare that Julienne imbibed at the convent
those qualities of tact and restraint, and that air of distinction she
exhibited later in the drawing-rooms of Victor Hugo. To the Convent of
the Bernardines was attached a sort of house of retreat where aged
ladies of rank could end their days, as also nuns of the various orders
whose cloisters had been destroyed during the Revolution. Some of these
preserved within their hearts a generous instinct of maternity, which
Julienne easily managed to waken. She fell into the habit of running
across to break the rule of everlasting silence in that fairly cheerful
environment, and, in defiance of the prohibition against intimacy, she
turned the old ladies into personal friends. She listened attentively,
and remembered much, and forty years later she could describe correctly
the names, appearance, and habits of that picturesque group, somewhat
archaic, but invariably courteous and witty.
Perhaps because of this slight lifting of the veil, Julienne began
already, at the age of sixteen, to fix her eager gaze beyond the
cloister and the gate. Perhaps also some instinct of dignity and
self-respect urged her to learn something of the world before entering
the novitiate to pronounce her vows. However this may be, it seems
certain that, on the solemn occasion of her presentation to the
Archbishop of Paris, Monsignor Quelen, as a postulant, she managed to
convey that her vocation was of the frailest, and her desire for the
world, deeply rooted. The prelate understood, and signified to the nuns
that this particular lamb desired to wander. That very evening Julienne
left the convent.
Here follows a somewhat obscure interlude in the girl's life. We meet
her next among the pupils of the sculptor Pradier, in 1825.
James Pradier: to those of our generation this name recalls merely a
number of groups and statues: statues more graceful than chaste, groups
more elegant than virile; the work of a master who aimed at rivalling
Praxiteles, but only succeeded in treading in the footsteps of Clodion.
Pradier, however, only needs a careful biographer to acquire another
kind of celebrity: that of an artist, _grand viveur_, magnificent and
vain, careless and weak, born too late to lead without scandal the
frivolous life he loved, too early to acquire by industry the fortune
needed for the indulgence of his tastes.
Twice a week his studio was transformed into a drawing-room, and his
receptions were attended by a most varied company: painters and poets,
models, actresses, dames of high degree, politicians and men of the
sword--all society, in short, liked to be seen in the Rue de l'Abbaye.
Clad in high boots, cut low in front, in violet velvet trousers and a
coat of the same material decorated with Polish brandebergs, flanked by
a Scotch greyhound almost as big as himself, the master of the house
received his visitors, listened to them, talked with them, without
interrupting his work; he created fresh marvels with the chisel while
the conversation flowed unrestrained, and thus his labours became
simultaneously a gossip and a spectacle.
In the novel excitement of surroundings so brilliant, so varied, and of
morals so easy, Julienne committed the imprudence which was to settle
the fate of her whole life. Thanks to her independent spirit, and still
more to her beauty, she very soon established her position in Pradier's
house. She came there often, remained long, and consented to pose for
him.[2]
And when, one day, the sculptor desired for himself this flower, so
superior in delicacy and aroma to those usually found in the studios, he
had but to bend down and pluck it.
[Illustration: CLAIRE PRADIER AS A CHILD.
From an unpublished drawing by Pradier.]
He made Julienne his mistress in 1825. In 1826 she gave him a little
daughter whom we shall meet again later. But now arose difficulties of a
practical nature. James Pradier, ex-Prix de Rome, Chevalier de la Légion
d'Honneur, Membre de l'Institut, Professeur de l'École des
Beaux-Arts, could not with propriety, according to his ideas, marry a
model. He does not dream of it for an instant, but, as he wishes to do
the girl some kindness, however unsuitable, he manages to insinuate her
into the theatrical world, and to put her on the boards. Having friends
in Brussels, he decrees that she shall go thither to study and make her
first appearance; and, as she needs guidance, advice, and protection, he
writes her almost every day long letters, in which platitudes alternate
with vulgarity. The correspondence continues, wordy and trivial,
interminable and foolish, a repulsive mixture of boasting and preaching.
Does Julienne show distaste for vaudeville, Pradier proclaims that form
of acting to be the most charming in the world, and places it far above
tragedy, which he pronounces tiresome and chilling. If Julienne
complains that she has but one dress, Pradier tells her that only the
leading lights of the stage possess more. If she ventures a timid
request for money, he answers that he has none himself, and offers her a
book of fairy-tales illustrated under his supervision.
She had to keep herself alive somehow, and when the poor thing had
pledged everything she possessed at the pawnbroker's, she wrote
plaintively: "This is the only money my talents have earned for me so
far." She might perhaps have been reduced to some desperate measure, had
not chance placed her in the path of Félix Harel.
Although an incorrigible Bonapartist, and consequently a conspirator by
trade, Harel seems to have been above all a man of the theatre: in the
midst of his political preoccupations, one can always discern his
predilection for things pertaining to the stage. He also had a very
definite conviction that politics and the drama, statesmen and
ballet-dancers, have always been closely linked together. So, whether he
was for the moment pamphleteer, financier, or prefect, whether he was
holding an appointment, or in full flight, he always had a finger in
some theatrical pie, either as a director, a manager, or a private
adviser. At the time he first met Julienne, he was filling the latter
capacity at the Théâtre Royal, in Brussels. He presented the young
woman. Without further training than that which Pradier had directed
from afar, we know that she made her first appearance in Brussels, at
the beginning of the year 1829--to be exact, on February 17th.
On that day she informs Pradier that her début has been successful, and
that the Brussels press is favourable. He at once thanks Providence and
decides that she can henceforth support herself by her talent. He
writes: "Is not this a great pleasure to you? Does it not lift a weight
from your heart, you who have such a noble soul? How sweet is the bread
one has earned so honourably! For my part, I feel that all your faults
are condoned by the trouble you are taking. Your perseverance will be
rewarded, never doubt it. Go on working! Time can never hang heavy when
one is labouring honestly; study carries more flowers than thorns."
Having spoken thus, the artist returned to his business and his
pleasures, not without having exhorted Julienne to remain in Brussels as
long as possible. He was not ignorant of the passionate desire of the
young woman to see her babe once more, but he feared that, if she should
not find an engagement in Paris like the one she enjoyed in Brussels,
she would again be, morally at least, on his hands. Therefore,
redoubling his cautious advice and his counsels of prudence, he implored
her not to relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty.
However, nothing deterred her. Julienne, as she used to say afterwards,
would rather have trudged the distance that separated her from her
child, on foot, than waited any longer. The events of 1829 spared her
the trouble. Owing to certain evidences of internal discontent, the
government of Charles X was developing liberal proclivities. Among other
political exiles, it allowed Félix Harel to return, and with him his
illustrious mistress, Mlle. Georges. Julienne shared their lot. She
accompanied them, not only to Paris, but to the Theatre of the Porte St.
Martin, which, under Harel's influence, rapidly became the stronghold of
romanticism, and on February 27th, 1830, she made her début on its
boards in the part of Emma, in _L'Homme du Monde_, by Ancelot and
Saintine. Then she migrated almost at once to the Odéon, of which Harel
had just undertaken the management, without, however, resigning that of
the Porte St. Martin. She played various parts there throughout the year
1831.
We shall hear later on that she was beautiful, but for the present we
must confine ourselves to the question of her talent and dramatic
qualities. It has been hinted that she owed her success solely to her
lovely face and graceful figure, and that she was one of those ephemeral
favourites who reap popular applause in return for the exhibition of
their charms. The truth seems to be that "la belle Juliette," as she was
already called, gave proofs of distinguished powers, although one is
fain to admit that, at this distance of time, it is not easy to define
her capacity with any exactitude. For one thing, it was never Juliette's
good fortune to play an important part which has since become a classic,
and by which her true qualities could be gauged: in Harel's troupe the
first-class parts were already justly monopolised by Mlle. Georges and
Madame Dorval. Also, nearly all the plays in which Juliette appeared are
nowadays looked upon as antiquated and sometimes even absurd. In fact,
it is difficult to conceive how they ever could have been given. It will
be wiser, therefore, to rely mainly on Pradier's letters to discover
what were the natural gifts which could have inspired that artist to
make of his mistress an actress, and even a tragedian.
Pradier, then, considered Juliette well equipped by nature in respect of
sentiment, intelligence, and voice production; but he criticised in her
a certain timidity and lack of assurance, sufficient to mar her
entrances and cover her exits with ridicule. He also thought fit to
observe to her that, once she was on the scene, and had overcome her
initial fright, she overacted her parts, and was not sufficiently
natural; she forgot to address herself to the audience, and would speak
into the wings, and neglect to vary her gestures, intonations, and
pauses.
To sum up, fire, intelligence, and an adequate vocal organ, but shyness,
awkwardness, monotonous delivery, and hesitation in gesture and gait:
such seem to have been the dramatic qualities and shortcomings of "la
belle Juliette." The testimony of Pradier has been confirmed by that of
_L'Artiste_. If there is any need to say more, we can judge by an
analysis of her engagements with Harel.
On February 7th, 1832, Harel signs a contract with her for thirteen
months, to begin from the March 1st following. He brings her back from
the Odéon to the Porte St. Martin, and promises her the modest salary of
four thousand francs per annum, payable monthly. But he does not treat
her as a "general utility" actress--on the contrary, he insists that she
keep principally to the part of _jeune première_ in comedy, tragedy, and
drama; that she learn daily at least forty lines or verses of the parts
which shall be allotted to her; that she furnish at her own expense all
the dresses necessary for her parts; that she be present at all
rehearsals called by the administration of the theatre. On January 13th,
1833, the two agree that the engagement shall be prolonged on the same
conditions until April 1st, 1834. Between whiles, Juliette continued to
create parts.
It must be confessed that she led the customary life of a theatrical
star. From the Boulevard St. Denis, where she lived, to the Boulevard du
Temple, which was then the hub of the social world and the centre of
amusement, the distance was negligible. She was therefore present at
every scene of this ceaseless round of entertainment. Her wardrobe
enjoyed a certain renown. Her journeys, one of which was to Italy
towards the end of 1832, helped to keep her before the public. Beautiful
as a goddess, merrier than ever, her bearing unconcerned, her arm
lightly placed within that of the chance companion of the moment, her
eyes flashing fire, though her heart might be full to bursting, she
sailed towards Cytheræa without apparent regret, without thought of
return. It was at this moment that Victor Hugo succeeded in bringing her
back into port, and keeping her there for ever, the slave of one master,
the woman of one love.