wherever she might choose. Like almost every operatic artiste, her
thoughts had often turned towards the Académie Royale de Musique, where
Gluck was now supreme, and she, accordingly, solicited an _ordre de
début_. This was easily obtained, the Opera being just at that time
sorely in need of fresh talent to fittingly interpret the master’s
works, and, in April 1777, she set out for Paris. Arrived in the French
capital, she lost no time in obtaining an introduction to the great
composer, who, quick to recognise ability wherever he found it, promised
to give her lessons himself,[172] and recommended her for a part in his
forthcoming opera.
On September 23, 1777, Madame Saint-Huberty made her _début_ in the
small part of Mélisse, in _Armide_, and the _Mercure de France_ referred
to her performance in the following terms:
“She has an agreeable voice. She sings and acts with much delicacy of
expression. She appears to be an excellent musician, and needs only a
little stage experience in order to acquire greater development for her
voice and greater ease for her acting.”
In spite of this encouraging notice,[173] the newcomer appears to have
attracted but little attention, in the midst of an event of such
importance as a new work by Gluck. Who, after all, was this modest
_débutante_, beside such stars as Legros, Larrivée, Gélin, Rosalie
Levasseur, and Mlle. Duranceray?
On first arriving in Paris, Madame Saint-Huberty had lodged in the Rue
Sainte-Croix de la Bretonnerie, at the house of a dame Sorel, after
which we find her residing successively at the Hôtel de Genève, the
Hôtel de Bayonne, and the Hôtel des Treize-Provinces.[174] At all these
places she lived alone, for, though her worthless husband had followed
her to Paris, she very prudently refused to receive him back, until she
was assured that he had mended his ways. As, however, he had no means of
livelihood, and she could not allow him to starve, she obtained for him,
through the good offices of Gluck, the post of wardrobe-keeper at the
Opera, which, as one of her biographers very sensibly remarks, was
scarcely a proper appointment for a gentleman with a weakness for
carrying off other people’s garments and raising money upon them. M.
Saint-Huberty was, as a matter of fact, very speedily discharged, upon
which he revenged himself by hawking about the streets and “reading
aloud in the cafés and even in certain private houses to which he was
admitted,” a libellous pamphlet against the authorities of the Opera,
composed by a confederate named Dodé de Jousserand. In order to keep
himself in funds, he paid frequent visits to his unhappy wife, from whom
he did not hesitate, when argument failed, to extort money by threats
and even blows; while, when she had nothing to give him, he would seize
upon any saleable article which happened to catch his eye, and carry it
off. One day, while Madame Saint-Huberty was at the theatre, he swooped
down and made a clear sweep of all the portable property of the luckless
singer, who was compelled to lay a complaint against him before the
commissary of police of her quarter. Here is the text of this document:
“In the year seventeen hundred and seventy-eight, Friday, the
thirty-first of July, at nine o’clock of the evening, in the hôtel, and
before us Joseph Chesnon _fils_, advocate to the Parliament, counsellor
of the King, commissary to the Châlelet of Paris, appeared demoiselle
Anne Antoinette Clavel, called Saint-Huberty, King’s pensioner at the
Opera, who informed us that the sieur de Saint-Huberty, who claims to be
married to her, in virtue of a pretended act of celebration in Berlin,
has abused the confidence of the complainant for nearly three years, in
order to install himself in her abode and to remain there in spite of
her; to make himself master there, and even to maltreat her. He,
nevertheless, several times left the house, but always carried away with
him jewels and other property of the complainant, which he pledged and
sold. He would again force his way in, but with empty hands, and the
complainant was unable to do anything against such persecution, being
without her papers.[175] Finally, this same day, while she was at the
Opera, the sieur Saint-Huberty has again taken advantage of her
confidence and her absence to carry off the goods, papers, and music of
the complainant, including even music which belongs to the Opera.
“She finds herself in the greatest embarrassment, and the sieur
Saint-Huberty is cunning enough to ask her, by a letter, dated
Wednesday, the twenty-ninth of this month, for papers and goods which he
has already taken the precaution to carry off. For which reasons, and in
order that she may enjoy peace at home, of which the sieur
Saint-Huberty has for a long time deprived her, and to force the said
Saint-Huberty to restore to her her property, papers, and music, and, in
particular, that which belongs to the Opera, she has come to lodge the
present plaint against the sieur Saint-Huberty, requiring from us the
act which we have given her and signing the minute in our
presence.”[176]
On an order from the Lieutenant of Police, a portion of the stolen
property was subsequently restored; but if Madame Saint-Huberty
flattered herself that she was safe from further depredations, she was
speedily undeceived. On August 10, she removed to a little apartment in
the Rue de l’Arbre Sec, in the house of Gourdan, one of the King’s
_valets-de-chambre_, for which she paid a rental of 490 livres and had
furnished herself. Three weeks later, at seven o’clock in the morning,
she was sleeping peacefully, dreaming perhaps of the time not far
distant when all the musical world would be at her feet, when she was
abruptly awakened by the entrance of four men, amongst whom she at once
recognised the scoundrelly Saint-Huberty. That worthy, pointing to a
person attired in the black garb of a commissary of police, to indicate
that he had legal authority for what he was about to do, cried: “The
pockets, Messieurs; search her pockets.” The hapless woman was then
dragged from her bed, and, while the man in black held her in his arms,
her husband showered blows upon her, after which he took a pair of
scissors and cut the ribands of the pockets of her night-dress,
inflicting several severe scratches in the process. Next, having
possessed himself of her keys, he opened all the drawers and cupboards
in the apartment, and proceeded to ransack them, at the same time
addressing to his wife the most shocking language. Finally, a fifth
person, also clad in black, entered, who announced himself as the
procurator of the husband, but, like his fellows, only laughed at the
poor actress’s distress, and declined to answer when she demanded to see
his authority. When her husband and his confederates had taken their
departure, Madame Saint-Huberty found that she had been robbed of a
packet of twenty-two letters, “which, at first sight, appeared to be
love-letters,” and a pair of diamond shoe-buckles of the value of six
louis.
This outrage was, of course, made the subject of a complaint by its
victim, of which the aforegoing account is a summary. But, as
Saint-Huberty had really had legal authority for his proceedings, having
had the audacity to declare to the police that his wife had “secretly
quitted their common abode and carried away with her numerous effects
belonging to him,” no steps could be taken against him. When, however,
Madame Saint-Huberty threatened to retire from the Opera, “unless her
personal safety were guaranteed,” she received an assurance that she
need no longer fear the visits and assaults of her husband.
But, if the unhappy woman had contrived to secure herself against
personal molestation, she was not yet free from trouble of another kind.
Some weeks before the adventure which we have just related, she had
succeeded in obtaining from Saint-Huberty, in return, we may be sure,
for some pecuniary consideration, a formal renunciation of all claim to
her professional earnings, whether derived from the Opera or from
engagements at private concerts or other entertainments. By the law,
however, she still remained answerable for his debts, and the cunning
scoundrel now determined to obtain the money he required through the
claims of fictitious creditors. On the demand of a certain demoiselle
Guérin, who declared herself to be a creditor for the sum of 489 francs
against the sieur Saint-Huberty and his wife, a formal objection was
lodged to the payment of the dame Saint-Huberty’s salary; and, on
October 2, 1778, the Châtelet declared this opposition good and valid,
and made an order for the directors and treasurers of the Opera to
deliver over to the sieur Saint-Huberty all sums due to his wife, until
the debt should be liquidated.
Poor Madame Saint-Huberty was in despair. It was in vain that she
protested that she knew nothing of the demoiselle Guérin, and had never
been called upon by her, previous to the legal proceedings, to pay any
debt. The officials of the Opera assured her that they were powerless in
the matter. Deeply as they sympathised with her, they could pay her
nothing, until she had obtained a recession of the order of the court.
This she, accordingly, endeavoured to procure. But the machinery of the
law worked even more slowly in those days than at the present time, and
it was not until March 19, 1779, that the appeal came on for hearing
before the Parliament of Paris. Then, at last, Fortune declared itself
on her side; for the judges, carried away apparently by the eloquence of
the plaintiff’s advocate, Maître Mascassies, who, in a speech of several
hours’ duration, traced the history of the stage from its origin to the
middle of the eighteenth century, with special reference to the
influence of the fall of Constantinople on the “Mysteries,” and the
relative merits of the operas of Lulli and Rameau, reversed the decision
of the Châtelet, ordered the authorities of the Opera to hand over to
the singer her arrears of salary, and condemned Saint-Huberty and his
confederates to pay all the costs of the proceedings.
Madame Saint-Huberty followed up this victory by another and more
important one. Six months later, she instituted proceedings for a formal
dissolution of her marriage on the following grounds:
(1) Omission of the publication of the banns in the parish of the father
and mother of the bride.
(2) Absence of the curé of the bride’s parish.
(3) The fact that the marriage had been performed without the consent of
the bride’s parents.
(4) Rape and seduction, which, without the employment of force, but
merely “_par mauvaises voyes et mauvaises artifices_,” were held to be
sufficient to invalidate a marriage.
The action was supported by Saint-Huberty’s father, the Metz merchant,
an honest man, who appears to have been genuinely distressed by the
misery which his son had brought upon this unfortunate girl; and, the
husband himself having been induced to leave the matter to “the wisdom
of the court,” on January 30, 1781, the marriage was finally
annulled.[177]
* * * * *
Meanwhile, undeterred by her domestic troubles--troubles which might
well have ruined the career of a less resolute and less courageous
woman--Madame Saint-Huberty had been steadily working her way into the
very front rank of her profession. Without friends, without a protector,
but proud in her distress and sustained by an all-devouring ambition,
she lived alone in her humble lodging, which she never left, save to go
to the theatre for rehearsals and performances. “From morning till night
she worked, studied, practised unceasingly. In time, her voice became
more supple and perfectly under her control. She taught herself to move
her long, thin arms with grace; she accustomed her countenance to
reflect her passionate sensibility, to render her lively impressions.
Finally, she got rid of her deplorable Alsatian accent.”[178]
Recognition, however, was slow to come. In 1778, the _Mercure_ only
mentions her as singing in unimportant parts in three or four operas,
although she appears to have greatly pleased the musical critic of that
journal by her rendering of an Italian arietta of Gluck, at a “_concert
spirituel_” in December. During the whole of the following year, when
the theatre was under the direction of Devismes, there is no reference
to her whatever, except in a letter of Devismes’s successor, Dauvergne,
in which he speaks of the young singer as weeping with despair, because
she had not been allotted a part; and she seems, about this time, to
have had serious thoughts of leaving the Opera altogether.[179] However,
her perseverance was not wasted, for, towards the end of that year, she
was received as a permanent member of the company, though less, it is
believed, on account of her talent, than her willingness to do whatever
was required of her. This was a great step gained, and, at length, in
November 1780, she reaped the reward of all her labours and self-denial
by being entrusted with the part of Angélique in the _Roland_
(_Orlando_) of Piccini.
No one seems to have expected this opera to succeed. The composer
himself believed its failure inevitable. The evening of the first
representation, when he was about to start for the theatre, his family
refused to accompany him, and, aware of his extremely sensitive nature
used every persuasion to induce him to remain at home. His wife, his
children, his friends were in tears. “One would have imagined that he
was on his way to the scaffold.”
Piccini endeavoured to reassure them. “My children,” said he, “we are
not in the midst of barbarians, but of the politest people in the world.
If they do not approve of me as a musician, they will at least respect
me as a man and a foreigner.” And he tore himself away.
A delightful surprise awaited him. _Roland_, so far from being a
failure, was an unqualified triumph, and, at the conclusion of the
performance, Piccini was escorted home by an enthusiastic crowd of
admirers. This happy result was undoubtedly due, in the first instance,
to Madame Saint-Huberty’s admirable rendering of the part of Angélique.
“Where is Saint-Huberty? where is she?” cried the grateful composer, as
the curtain fell to the accompaniment of round upon round of applause.
“I wish to see her, to embrace her, to thank her, to tell her that I owe
to her my success!”
The critic of the _Mercure_ expresses himself as follows on the acting
and singing of Madame Saint-Huberty in this her first important part:
“Having spoken of _Roland_, we shall seize this opportunity to say
something of Madame Saint-Huberty, whose progress, every day more
marked, merits a special mention. We have seen her with pleasure in the
rôle of Angélique, in which she has, in many respects, acquitted herself
very well. We invite her only to be careful of her articulation; she
neglects it so far as to cause us to lose part of what she says. The
fault is common to foreign singers or to those trained abroad.”
And the critic concludes by recommending her to be less prodigal of her
gestures and not to raise her arms higher than was necessary.[180]
A month later, the singer gained another success, as Lise, in _Le
Seigneur bienfaisant_, an indifferent work by Rochon de Chabannes and
Floquet, when she rendered with such fiery energy the despair of the
heroine that she fell ill from excess of emotion and was absent from the
theatre for several weeks.
On her return, fresh triumphs awaited her. After successfully
impersonating Églé, in the _Thésée_ of Quinault, which had been set to
music by Gossec, she replaced Rosalie Levasseur in the name-part in
Gluck’s _Iphigénie en Tauride_ (March 10, 1782),[181] in which, the
_Mercure_ declares that “she acquitted herself very well and deserved
the praise which she received.” Next, she created the rôle of Laurette,
in _l’Inconnue persécutée_, “with as much taste as intelligence,” and
made an heroic, though unsuccessful, attempt to secure a favourable
reception for the _Électre_ of her old master Lemoine, the one-time
conductor of the Strasburg orchestra.
Not content with doing her utmost on the stage on her old friend’s
behalf, Madame Saint-Huberty employed the influence she was beginning to
possess in the _coulisses_ to compel the administration of the Opera to
prolong the run of this very indifferent work, notwithstanding the
unfavourable verdict of the public and the disastrous results such a
course was likely to have upon the receipts. The administration resolved
not to yield to such a preposterous demand, but, at the same time,
unwilling to offend an actress who was becoming every day more necessary
to them, had recourse to stratagem. They represented that they were
perfectly willing to oblige Madame Saint-Huberty by continuing the
representations of _Électre_; but, since the opera was not in itself a
sufficient attraction to secure a full house, it would be advisable to
wait for a few days, until the ever-popular ballet of _Ninette à la
Cour_, in which Mlle. Guimard, it will be remembered, secured one of her
greatest triumphs, could be given with it. Madame Saint-Huberty
consented to the postponement, and the administration made use of the
respite granted them to induce the Minister of the King’s Household, the
supreme authority in matters concerning the Opera, “to order that the
opera of _Électre_ should be absolutely withdrawn from the
theatre.”[182]
In those days, it was the fashion at the Opera to frequently present
entire pieces composed of acts extracted from various works. These
performances, called “_Fragments_,” were very popular with the patrons
of the theatre, since they constituted but little strain upon the
imagination, while the variety of their subjects and music provided an
agreeable change. On September 24, 1782, four “fragments” were performed
at the Opera, the most important of which was a new act by Moline and
Edelmann, entitled _Ariane dans l’Île de Naxos_. Madame Saint-Huberty,
who played the part of Ariane, had always had a strong predilection in
favour of historical accuracy in stage costume, and, on the advice of
the painter Moreau, who held similar views and had designed the dresses
for this opera, she resolved to make a move in the direction of reform.
“We have seen, for the first time, on the stage,” says the _Journal de
Paris_, “in the principal personage, the costume rigorously observed.
These designs have been made on the advice of M. Moreau _le jeune_,
favourably known in artistic circles by the number, the variety, and the
continual beauty of his works.”
Levacher de Chamois, in his work on theatrical costume, has traced a
description of the costume worn by Madame Saint-Huberty on this
occasion:
“One saw this actress appear habited in a long linen tunic, fastened
beneath the bosom; the legs bare and fitted with the ancient buskin.
From the head descended gracefully several plaits of hair, which played
about her shoulders. This costume, a novel one for the spectators and
both true and elegant, was applauded with a kind of frenzy. But, in
spite of the approval of the public, there arrived orders which one
called ‘ministerial,’ forbidding Madame Saint-Huberty to appear in this
beautiful costume, and at the second representation of the work she was
obliged to resume the heavy and ridiculous accoutrements of our
coquettes and prudes.”[183]
Notwithstanding this mortification, the actress had no reason to be
dissatisfied with her performance of Ariane. It was indeed, for her, a
veritable triumph. “As for Madame Saint-Huberty,” says the _Journal de
Paris_, “we do not know which serves her the best, her face, her voice,
or her acting; she knows how to give to each song inflections which
occasion the most lively emotions.” And the musical critic of the
_Mercure_ writes: “Madame Saint-Huberty, in the opera of _Ariane_, has
added yet further to the idea that one has always entertained of her
intelligence and her talent. She played in a manner always animated and
interesting, and sang with the greatest expression the music constantly
loud and passionate of a long and difficult rôle.”
Guinguéné, in his notice on the life and works of Piccini, declares that
Madame Saint-Huberty owed to the protection of the celebrated composer
the fact that her name was not erased from the books of the Opera after
her brilliant rendering of the part of Ariane, since she had shown on
this occasion views too independent and a talent too original to suit
the views of the authorities of that institution. “The success which she
had obtained in it excited the petty passions of the _coulisses_. They
were prepared to drive her from the Opera, and Piccini alone sustained
her. He recalled to those who were the powers of the State the witty and
sensible _mot_ of Gluck; he predicted that they would speedily have need
of her, and that they would be only too happy to have her. His selection
of her for the interesting part of Sangarede and the superior manner in
which she rendered not only the music, but the scenes as well, moved the
entire public in her favour and gave her a settled position on the stage
of which she was for ten years the glory.”[184]
The revival of _Atys_ had taken place at the beginning of the year 1783,
when Madame Saint-Huberty played the heroine with an enthusiasm which
gave a new lease of life to that fine opera. “Thus,” says M. Jullien,
“she found herself dividing her sympathies between the two hostile
camps, and lending, in turn, the assistance of her great talent to the
two rival composers: to Gluck, who had given her her first opportunity
at the Opera, to Piccini, who had helped her to retain her position
there.”[185]
[Illustration: MADAME SAINT-HUBERTY
From an engraving by COLINET after the drawing by LE MOINE]
A little time before, on November 27, 1782, the actress had given proof
of a talent of rare versatility by rendering with much gaiety and charm
the part of Rosette, in Grétry’s _l’Embarras des Richesses_.[186] This
piece, notwithstanding some delightful music and Madame Saint-Huberty’s
successful impersonation of the heroine, failed, mainly through the
ineptitude of the libretto--the production of one Lourdet de Sans-Terre,
surnamed by the wits Lourdeau Sans-Tête--which contained some of the
most amazing anachronisms ever perpetrated by a presumably educated
writer. Thus, the inhabitants of Athens, in the time of Pericles, are
made to fast during Lent, flirt with opera-girls, and pay their debts
in louis d’or; while, in the ballet, dances are executed by American
savages! Bad though it was, however, _l’Embarras des Richesses_ is still
remembered, having been rescued from well-merited oblivion by the
following amusing epigram:
“Embarras d’intérêt,
Embarras dans les rôles,
Embarras dans ballet,
Embarras de paroles,
Des embarras en sorte
Que tout est embarras,
Mais venez à la porte,
Vous n’en trouverez pas.”
On February 28, 1783, Sacchini’s _Renaud_ was produced, with Rosalie
Levasseur in the part of Armide. Her rendering of the part, however, was
not considered satisfactory, and, at the fourth representation, she was
replaced by Madame Saint-Huberty, who was thus enabled to set the seal
upon her reputation. For where Rosalie had been found wanting, she
succeeded and succeeded brilliantly, and, by her conversion of a
threatened failure into a complete triumph, saved at one stroke the poor
musician and the honour of the Opera, which, in cancelling its agreement
with Sacchini--about which there had been some talk after the cool
manner in which _Renaud_ had been at first received--would have lost the
composer’s two masterpieces, _Dardanus_ and _Œdipe à Colone_.[187]
* * * * *
Madame Saint-Huberty was not a pretty woman. She had neither the
beautiful eyes nor the willowy grace of Sophie Arnould. She was short
and thick-set, with long, thin arms, a large mouth and a “_nez de
soubrette_”; in a word, an “ignoble figure,” as the ungallant art critic
of the _Mémoires secrets_ calls her, in his notice of Madame Vallayer
Coster’s portrait of the actress, as Dido, exhibited at the Salon of
1785.