_L’Histoire de François Ier, dit le Grand Roi et le Père des
Lettres_ (1766-1769); _L’Histoire de la Rivalité de la France et
de l’Angleterre_ (1771-1777), which procured him admission to the
Academy; and _L’Histoire de la Rivalité de la France et de l’Espagne_
(1800).
[152] Loménie, _Beaumarchais et son temps_, iv.
[153] _Souvenirs_, i. 100.
[154] _Mémoires de Fleury_, ii. 413.
[155] _Mémoires de Fleury_, ii. 415 _et seq._
[156] Cited by Gaboriau, _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 180.
[157] And well he deserved his triumph, for surely never had actor
been at more pains to secure a perfect resemblance to the character
he was to impersonate! “In the first place,” he tells us, in his
_Mémoires_, “I sought to imbue myself with the idea that my apartments
were in Potsdam, instead of in Paris; and I resolved to retire to
rest, to take my meals, to move, and speak, during two whole months,
in the full persuasion that I was Frederick the Great. The better to
identify myself with the character, I used every morning to dress
myself in the military coat, hat, boots, &c., I had ordered for the
part. Thus equipped, I would seat myself before my looking-glass, at
one side of which hung Ramberg’s picture of the King. Then, with the
help of hair pencils and a palette spread with black, white, red,
blue, and yellow, I endeavoured to paint my face to the resemblance of
the picture.”
[158] Gaboriau, _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 191.
[159] M. Victor du Bled, _Les Comédiens français pendant la
Révolution_, _Revue des Deux Mondes_, vol. cxxiv.
[160] _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 194.
[161] See pp. 182 _et seq._, _supra_.
[162] M. Victor du Bled, _Les Comédiens français pendant la
Révolution_, _Revue des Deux Mondes_, vol. cxxiv.
[163] M. Victor du Bled, _Les Comédiens français pendant la
Révolution_, _Revue des Deux Mondes_, vol. cxxiv.
[164] Many amusing anecdotes are told of Lemercier’s wit. Here is
one, which Ernest Legouvé relates in his _Soixante ans de souvenirs_:
“One evening, he (Lemercier) was seated on a low stool in the gangway
of the first gallery of the Théâtre-Français. Enter a young officer,
making a great deal of noise, slamming the door violently behind him,
and taking his stand right in front of M. Lemercier. ‘Monsieur,’
says the poet, very gently, ‘you prevent my seeing anything.’ The
officer turns round and, staring from his towering height at the
little, inoffensive-looking civilian, humbly seated on his low stool,
resumes his former position. ‘Monsieur,’ repeats M. Lemercier, more
emphatically, ‘I have told you that you prevent me from seeing the
stage, and I command you to get out of the way.’ ‘You command!’
retorts his interlocutor, in a tone of contempt; ‘do you know to whom
you are speaking? You are speaking to a man who brought back the
standards from the army of Italy!’ ‘That is very possible, Monsieur,
seeing that it was an ass which carried Christ!’ As a matter of
course, there was a duel, and the officer had his arm broken by a
bullet.”
[165] Ducis’s adaptation--or distortion--of _Othello_, first produced
on November 26, 1772, differed materially from the original play.
“Iago’s villainy,” says Mr. Hawkins, in his “French Stage in the
Eighteenth Century,” “was thought too deep and patent, especially
for a Parisian audience. Pesare, as the ancient is called here, is
accordingly transformed into something like an ordinary confidant,
to all appearance full of sincere _bonhomie_, and with his devilish
purpose hidden until he has been seen for the last time. Ducis, it has
been well remarked, was extremely afraid of arousing too much emotion
among his auditors. Another essential difference lay in Cassio being
really in love with Desdemona (re-named Hédelmone).” Changes of minor
importance were the substitution of a letter for the handkerchief, and
a poniard for the pillow. Ducis also adapted--or distorted--_Hamlet_,
_Romeo and Juliet_, _Macbeth_, and _Lear_.
[166] _Journal de Paris_, March 7, 1809.
[167] Antoine Dubois (1756-1837), the leading obstetric surgeon of the
time. He assisted at the accouchement of the Empress Marie Louise,
and was made a baron of the Empire. His son, Paul Dubois, was also
a celebrated accoucheur, and the author of several able works on
obstetrics.
[168] A character in the _Joueur_ of Regnard.
[169] Gaboriau, _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 207.
[170] Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty, d’après sa
correspondance et ses papiers de famille_, p. 12.
[171] Cited by Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty, d’après sa
correspondance et ses papiers de famille_, p. 14.
[172] If one is to believe a little brochure of the time, bearing the
title of _Chronique scandaleuse des théâtres, ou Aventures des plus
célèbres actrices, chanteuses, danseuses, et figurantes_, the lessons
given by Gluck to Madame Saint-Huberty were not entirely gratuitous.
“In one of those moments of incontinency to which the greatest men
often yield, the celebrated Gluck recognised in her talents which had
not even been suspected and which attached him to her. He resolved
to make of her an actress. In like manner, the famous Champmeslé was
formed by the care and counsels of Racine. However, one ought not to
compare the German Orpheus to the French Euripides. Gluck sought less
to teach the sentiments of which he taught her the expression, than
to inspire her with the fire of his genius, and, as he had always
preserved the rusticity of his German manners, he did not often fail
to commit himself to it in his lessons....”
[173] All the critics were not so kind as the scribe of the _Mercure_,
and one went so far as to declare that the _débutante_ was “very ugly,
very bad,” and that “she could not possibly long retain her position
on the lyric stage.”
[174] Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 20.
[175] It is not clear what papers are referred to, but, in all
probability, they were those relating to the separation of her goods
from those of her husband which she had obtained at Warsaw, in March
1777.
[176] Cited by Campardon, _L’Académie royale de Musique au XVIIIe
siècle_: Article, “Saint-Huberty.”
[177] Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 42.
[178] Émile Gaboriau, _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 210.
[179] Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 45.
[180] This multiplicity and exaggeration of gestures appears to have
been Madame Saint-Huberty’s principal fault in the early part of her
career. On another occasion, she was reproached with her resemblance
to a woman “persecuted by internal convulsions.”
[181] Rosalie Levasseur had sung charmingly on the opening night; but
on the second, she was so intoxicated as to be almost incapable of
struggling through the part. At the conclusion of the performance she
was arrested and conveyed to For l’Évêque.
[182] Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame
Saint-Huberty_.
[183] _Recherches sur les costumes et sur les théâtres de toutes les
nations_, i. 35.
[184] Ginguéné, _Notice sur la vie et les ouvrages de Nicolas Piccini_.
[185] _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame Saint-Huberty._
[186] “Madame Saint-Huberty played the part of Rosette with an
intelligence, a sensibility, and a fervour of expression, which proves
the extent and the variety of her talent, equally well calculated
to render every rôle and to sing all kinds of music.”--_Mercure de
France_, December 1782.
[187] Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame
Saint-Huberty_.
[188] Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 5.
[189] Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 75 _et seq._
Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame
Saint-Huberty_.
[190] Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame
Saint-Huberty_.
[191] _Mémoires de Marmontel_ (edit. 1804), iii. 224 _et seq._
[192] See the author’s “Queens of the French Stage” (London: Harpers’;
New York: Scribners’. 1905), p. 314 _et seq._
[193] The train of an ordinary actress was held by a page dressed in
black and white, but actresses representing queens were entitled to
two trains and two pages, who followed them everywhere they went.
“Nothing is more diverting,” writes a critic of the time, “than the
perpetual movement of these little rascals, who have to run after the
actress when she is rushing up and down the stage in moments of great
distress. Their activity throws them into a state of perspiration,
whilst their embarrassment and blunders invariably excite laughter.
Thus a farce is always going on, which agreeably diverts the spectator
in sad or touching situations.”
[194] Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame
Saint-Huberty_.
[195] On December 6, which was an off-day at the Opera, Madame
Saint-Huberty attended a performance of the _Fausse Lord_, music by
Piccini, words by Piccini _fils_, at the Comédie-Italienne. At the
conclusion of the piece, when she was leaving her box, the whole
audience rose, and burst into a tumult of applause, shouting: “_Vive
la reine de Carthage!_” If, remarks Grimm, the public had been aware
that, on that very day, by the exercise of rare delicacy and tact, the
artiste had succeeded in reconciling Piccini and Sacchini, who had
long been at variance, their enthusiasm would have been, if it were
possible, even greater.
[196] _Notice sur la vie et les ouvrages de Nicolas Piccini._
[197] _Les Comédiennes adorées_, p. 217.
[198] Grimm, _Correspondance littéraire_, xii. 10.
[199] Grimm, _Correspondance littéraire_, xii. 10.
[200] Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame
Saint-Huberty_. M. Jullien says “in less than five months.” He forgets
that _Didon_, although not seen at the Opera until December 1 1783,
had been performed at Fontainebleau in the previous October.
[201] Adolphe Jullien, _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame
Saint-Huberty_.
[202] See p. 128 note, _supra_.
[203] _Mémoires secrets_, December 20, 1786.
[204] Cited by Campardon, _Académie royal de Musique au XVIIIe
siècle_: Article, “Saint-Huberty.”
[205] Cited by Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 190.
[206] The superintendent of the wardrobe of the Opera.
[207] Cited by Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 171.
[208] It is true that Métra writes, under date March 24, 1783, as
follows: “Mlle. Laguerre had been for a long time the mistress of the
Duc de Bouillon. Madame Saint-Huberti has replaced her in the heart of
this prince and in her rights on his fortune. He has just purchased
her favours, so many times cheaply disposed of, by a contract of one
hundred thousand écus.” But Edmond de Goncourt is inclined to think
that Métra is here drawing upon his very vivid imagination with more
than his usual freedom.
[209] Cited by Edmond de Goncourt, _Madame Saint-Huberty_, p. 186.
[210] Cabanis was the Comte d’Antraigues’s physician in Paris. Shortly
before this letter was written, Madame Saint-Huberty had placed
herself under his care and presumably he was still prescribing for her.
[211] All sorts of legends have gathered round the Comte d’Antraigues,
who is depicted as a kind of Royalist Marat, ready to demand, on the
return of the Bourbons, “his four hundred thousand heads.” One story
is to the effect that, when in Venice, he had been heard to boast that
he had caused several agents of the French Republic to be poisoned.
[212] This was not the only reward of her services which the ex-singer
received. In 1804, the Emperor of Austria accorded her a pension of
1000 ducats, “in memory of the services rendered by her to her late
Majesty Marie Antoinette of France, as superintendent of the music
of that august princess.” As for the Comte d’Antraigues, he was, for
some years, in receipt of a handsome pension from the various European
Courts, and, in May 1800, received from the king of the Two Sicilies
the royal order of Constantine, together with a pension.
[213] Madame Saint-Huberty had, of course, never appeared at the
Théâtre-Français. Such is fame!
[214] As a matter of fact, her savings only amounted to some 80,000
francs, the whole of which had been lost during the Revolution.
[215] The _Times_ of July 28, 1812, states that it had been
ascertained that Lorenzo was an intimate friend of Sellis, who, after
attempting to assassinate the Duke of Cumberland, committed suicide.
[216] _L’Opéra secret au XVIIIe siècle: Madame Saint-Huberty._