WATTEAU’S DEBT TO THE STAGE
The stage has from time to time been indebted to Watteau for costume
and _décor_. But Watteau’s debt to the stage of his period, to the
Opera, to the Italian Comedy, and to the Theatres of the Fair, has
hardly been considered sufficiently. Here is not the place to bring
forward all the evidence that could be produced. Only an indication
of some of the leading possibilities can be given. But while the
subject has an interest of its own, on the purely critical side, it
is also of interest to students of the ballet, for they may trace in
some of the famous French pictures of the early eighteenth century
the influence of ballet on contemporary art. Again, history “repeats
itself” to-day, for have not many artists of our own time found
inspiration in many of the productions of the Russian ballet?
It is interesting first to compare Watteau’s picture of “L’Amour au
Théâtre Italien” with the reproductions given here from an old volume
in my possession, Riccoboni’s _Histoire du Théâtre Italien_, which
was not published until six years after Watteau’s death, but which
may be regarded as a contemporary work since it describes the stage
of his time.
These prints represent the various types of the Italian comedy as
they were actually costumed, and comparing these with the figures in
Watteau’s group, one sees in their close resemblance proof that the
master was painting from things seen, from life itself (albeit stage
life), not some graceful creations of his own imagination, as some
of us to-day have been too apt to think.
In “L’Amour au Théâtre Italien” we have a faithful record of
costumes actually worn; but the whole attitude of the group of
figures suggests something vastly more than merely an artist’s study
of costume. The figures are alert, the moment dramatic. Something
is happening, or rather has happened, and there is a suggestion
of culmination, as if the interruption of a song by the entry of
a character had called forth, or was about to call forth, some
whimsical comment from Pierrot, the singer. It seems a captured
moment in a comedy.
Comparing it with the obviously companion picture, “L’Amour au
Théâtre Français,” one might well be somewhat puzzled by the title,
since in neither is there any apparent love-scene taking place. The
one suggests an interruption in a comedy, the other--a dance in
progress.
Beneath the engravings of these two by C. N. Cochin in the Jullienne
collection, however, are inscribed a couple of six-line stanzas, one
beneath each, in which the treatment of love themes in Italian and
French comedies respectively is contrasted.
L’AMOUR AU THÉÂTRE FRANÇAIS
“L’amour badine en France; il se montre un grand jour
Il ne prend point de masque, il se parle sans detour;
Il vit dans les festins, aux plaisir il s’allie,
C’est une liberté que le noeud qui nous lie
Nous servons sans constrainte e Bacchus e l’Amour.
Et nos tristes voisins nous taxent de folie.
M. ROY.”
L’AMOUR AU THÉÂTRE ITALIEN
“La jalouse Italie effrayante les amours,
Les fait marcher de nuit, les constraint au mistère
Mais une Serenade y supplie aux discours;
Un geste, un sel regard conclud on rompt d’Affaire,
L’impatient Francois en intrigue préfere,
Des chemins moins couverts, les croyée--vous plus courts?
M. ROY.”
These stanzas are by Roy, a contemporary poet who was a librettist
for the Opera, two of whose operas were produced in 1712.
One thing is certain, that Watteau’s own eyes must have noted the
contrast between the Italian and French comedy to have painted such
pictures. He could not have painted them without being an observant
theatre-goer. What, then, did he see, and when could he have seen
such productions as might suggest such works? While acknowledging
that positive evidence is still to be sought, I cannot help feeling
that these two pictures, and one or two others, could fairly safely
be placed as work done about 1711-1712.
In 1709 Antoine, still with Audran at the Luxembourg, competed for
entry, and was admitted with four other students, for the Academy.
Then he left Paris for Valenciennes, defraying expenses by selling a
military picture, “Départ des Troupes,” to the dealer, Sirois, who
urged him to paint a similar picture, which he did at Valenciennes.
[Illustration: L’Amour au Théâtre Italien]
[Illustration: L’Amour au Théâtre Français
(_From the Jullienne engravings from Watteau, British Museum_).]
There is no direct evidence that Watteau painted any stage-pictures
_before_ this period; and it would seem that his work in the country
was mainly on military and naturalistic subjects. We _do_ know that
he was again in Paris at a date uncertain in 1712, and went to live
with a Monsieur Crozat, by whom he was engaged to paint a series of
panels of The Seasons. It is extremely likely that he would have
returned to Paris refreshed by his country sojourn and with a new
zest for work, _and_ for theatre-going, which was then beginning to
be particularly interesting, a crisis in the Fair Theatre troubles
being over by 1710, and some new productions there as well as at
the opera being well worth seeing.
As I would trace his movements, still admitting that positive
evidence is required, Watteau returned to Paris early in 1711, took
up his quarters for a time with Sirois the dealer, who would have the
disposing of work done at Valenciennes. One of his first pictures
of this period was probably “Gilles and his Family,” in the Wallace
collection, which is supposed to be a portrait of Sirois dressed as
a Pierrot or Gilles (the names being synonymous at the period) in a
costume supplied by Watteau’s own wardrobe.
Then would come visits to the Fairs of St. Germain and St. Laurent,
whence he would return reinspired with a love for the gay, reckless,
satiric Italian comedy.
One has only to compare the Hertford House “Gilles” with the central
figure of Pierrot in the “L’Amour au Théâtre Italien” to see that one
is an earlier work and is the figure of a man somewhat self-conscious
and not quite used to the clothes he is wearing; the other a maturer
work, representing a vivid impression of a born comedian, momentarily
master of the scene. Doubtless at this time, too, would be done some,
but only some, of the remaining works dealing with the Italian stage
types, such as “Les Jaloux,” “Arlequin Jaloux,” “Comédiens Italiens,”
and “Pierrot Content.” A little after, I think, would come such works
as “Arlequin et Colombine,” (in the Wallace collection), “Mezzetin,”
and the maturer “Gilles,” in the Louvre.
In 1712 there were at the Theatres of the Fair in Paris two famous
players of Gilles or Pierrot, namely, Hamoche, who made his _début_
in that year with the St. Edmé troupe; and Belloni, who was also a
lemonade-seller, quite a popular character, notable, as one chronicle
tells us, “for the grand simplicity of his acting and for his naïve
and truthful speech.”
The most famous of the players of Arlequin was Pierre-François
(otherwise Domenique) Biancolelli, who was also of the St. Edmé
troupe, somewhere between 1710-1712.
Thus it was not unlikely that Watteau saw these actors, as he may
have seen another, Delaplace, as Scaramouche, and Desgranges, who
came to Paris from Lyons, in 1712, as “the Doctor”; though the
Mezzetin offers a minor problem in that Angelo Constantini, the most
famous impersonator of the character, after suffering banishment with
the Italian comedians in 1697, went to Poland, where an intrigue
with the Queen resulted in his imprisonment for twenty years, by
which time Watteau was no more. Him, therefore, Watteau cannot have
seen. But the character was a familiar one on the stage at the time,
1710-1712, and must have been played by other popular actors, even if
not of sufficient note to be chronicled.
To turn from the Italian actors to other theatrical characters which
form the subjects of some of Watteau’s pictures, it is of interest
to note that one of the engravings in the Jullienne collection
represents “Poisson en habit de paysan.” Poisson was a familiar
name in the annals of the French stage, for it was borne by three
generations of Parisian actors, Raymond Poisson, who died in
1690, Paul, his son, and François, grandson. Watteau’s picture is
presumably that of the second, Paul.
Another interesting point to note is that a portrait of Raymond
Poisson, painted by Netscher, was engraved by Edelinck (who was
employed by Watteau’s employer--Audran) and represents the actor
in the character of Crispin, one of his most famous parts (that of
a sort of black-dressed Pierrot, a messenger distinguished by his
long boots, worn by Raymond Poisson to increase his stature), which
was successively played by his son Paul, and grandson François, and
became a traditional type.
Watteau cannot have seen Raymond, who died twelve years before the
artist came to Paris, but he may well have seen Paul, and it is
significant that he should have drawn a figure representing _not_
“_Poisson en habit de Crispin_” (whose costume was now a tradition)
but “_en habit de Paysan_” as if it was the very fact that the part
was one different from that especially associated with the Poisson
family which made it of interest to Watteau.
In connection with the same portrait there is one point that is
particularly noteworthy, namely, _that it is exactly like the central
figure in “Le Concert,” or “Les Charmes de la Vie” in the Wallace
collection_; and close consideration of the latter inclines me to the
belief that the picture represents--as certain others not unusually
so considered may well do--a scene from an opera.
Another of the engravings in the Jullienne collection of “Mdlle.
Desmares en habit de Pelerine.” Mlle. Desmares was a well-known
Danish actress; and “pelerines” appear in Watteau’s “L’Embarquement
pour l’Ile de Cythère.”
One has only to pass in review a succession of Watteau’s works, or
reproductions thereof, to notice how very frequently he repeats
himself in matters of detail. In a general way, for instance, it is
curious to note how frequently dancing and music are repeated in
the course of his life’s work. In “L’Amour au Théâtre Français” is
a couple dancing; in the “Bal sous une Colonnade” another; in “Le
Contrat de Mariage” and its variants--another, and very similar; in
“Le Menuet” (at the Hermitage, Petrograd) another; in “Amusements
Champêtres” (Chantilly), and in the “Fêtes Vénitiennes” (Edinburgh)
are more such couples; while there is, of course, the dainty single
figure of the child in “La Danse,” in the Royal Palace, Potsdam; and
the famous “L’Indifférent,” in the Louvre, also represents a young
man dancing. Dancers and musicians are thus a constant theme for
Watteau’s brush.
There are, however, more distinctive and more curious repetitions
to note than these obvious evidences of a general taste for music
and the dance; the repetitions of figures or groups in particular
positions, and of details in _mise en scène_.
The well-known “Joueur de Guitare,” in the Musée Condé, reappears
_in almost exact facsimile_ in “La Surprise” (in Buckingham Palace)
and also in the “Fête Galante,” or “Fête Champêtre,” in the Royal
Gallery, Dresden.
The couple in “La Gamme d’Amour” is simply a detail from the centre
of the “Assemblée dans un Parc,” in the Royal Gallery at Berlin. The
musician in “La Leçon de Musique” (Wallace collection) is repeated in
“Le Concert,” also in the Wallace collection.
To turn now to details of _mise en scène_, it is curious to note that
the pillars seen in the last-named picture also occur in the “Bal
sous une Colonnade,” in the Dulwich Gallery.
The reclining statue to the right of the picture, known as “Les
Champs Elysées,” in the Wallace collection, is another, presumably an
earlier version of the “Jupiter and Antiope,” in the Louvre.
The statuette and amorini in the “Fête d’Amour” at the Dresden Royal
Gallery are variants of those in the “Embarquement pour l’Ile de
Cythère”; while the terminal statue of Pan seen in the “Arlequin et
Colombine,” in the Wallace collection, reappears again and again in
the Italian Comedy series.
[Illustration: Le Concert
(_From the painting by Watteau, Wallace Collection_).]
[Illustration: La Leçon de Musique
(_From the painting by Watteau, Wallace Collection_).]
To some, unaware, perhaps, of the influence which the stage of
Watteau’s time was exerting in other directions, these comparisons
may possibly seem unnecessary. But in considering the extent to which
that influence may have expressed itself in the painter’s work, it
is just these details which, taken in conjunction with the trend of
theatrical taste at that time, are likely to be of importance. There
was never an artist yet--whether in colour, sound, or spoken or
written word--who created a new world out of nothing. The spirit
of art can only find its expression in the manipulation of existing
material. Every work of art must surely be the culmination of a long
series of impulses due to external stimuli the connection of which,
perhaps over a lengthy period, consciousness has failed to analyse
and memory to record.
Now Watteau’s work as a whole exhibits the frequent repetition of
certain _motifs_, but they were never of something he can never
have seen in reality. It was not automatic reiteration of some
pictured or imagined type, group or material object. His earliest
impressions of stage-life, it is true, may well have been those
conveyed by the prints or paintings of his master Gillot. But there
was _no necessity_ for him to subsist for the rest of his life for
inspiration on second-hand impressions.
When, therefore, we find in works _other_ than those avowedly
theatrical, a repetition of certain details which _are_ found in
those dealings obviously with the theatre, it may be conceded,
perhaps, that the direct influence of stage scenes and stage effects
upon his art was somewhat more extensive than might be thought
merely from a study of those pictures which are ostensibly studies
of dramatic types and subjects; and for an instance we may take the
introduction of a group of Italian comedians among the bystanders in
the “Bal sous une Colonnade,” already referred to. They need a little
looking for amid so many figures, but when discovered one might
question what Pierrot, Arlequin and their fellows are doing “dans
cette galère.”
When we come, again, to consider the picture called “Le Concert” (in
the Wallace Collection) and find, in the central figure, a striking
likeness to another picture by Watteau of “Poisson” in the costume
of a peasant: and observe also a repetition of a scenic detail such
as the terrace-columns, which are similar to those of the Colonnade:
further noting that the treatment of the distance between these
same columns is strangely suggestive of the flatness of a stage
“back-cloth,” it begins to seem not improbable that we have here a
pretty faithful translation of actual stage scenes.
In one of these, the “Fêtes Champêtres,” also known as “Les Fêtes
Vénitiennes” (in the National Gallery, Edinburgh), it is possible
that we have a clue.
Can it be mere coincidence that from 1710--the year after Watteau had
become a student at the Academy--one of the most popular and most
frequently revived ballets at the Opera was Campra and Danchet’s “Les
Fêtes Vénitiennes?”
True, Watteau must be presumed to have been at Valenciennes from
about the end of 1709 until shortly before 1712, when he took up his
abode with Crozat, but the ballet was revived again _in_ 1712; not to
mention a _pastiche_ called “Fragments de Lulli,” which included an
_entrée_ entitled “La Vénitienne,” produced in January, 1711, which,
as has already been suggested, was the more likely time than 1712 for
Watteau’s return to town after his stay at Valenciennes.
At this time, in any case, there were several productions at the
Opera which may have easily proved an influence in the thoughts of
an impressionable young artist. It was in 1712 that two operas were
produced, namely, “Créüse l’Athénienne” and “Callirhoé,” the libretti
of which were by Roy, whose stanzas form the inscriptions already
referred to as appearing under the engravings of “L’Amour au Théâtre
Français” and “L’Amour au Théâtre Italien.”
In one of the few of Watteau’s letters quoted by the Goncourts is
one to Gersaint in which Antoine accepts an invitation to go “avec
Antoine de la Roque,” and dine next day. It is not insignificant that
the first opera of which De la Roque was librettist was produced in
April, 1713, and entitled “Médée et Jason.”
[Illustration: Les Plaisirs du Bal
(_From the Jullienne engravings from Watteau, British Museum_).]
To return, however, to “Les Fêtes Vénitiennes.” The score of this
ballet, or rather “opera-ballet,” was published by the great French
printer Ballard in 1714, and an examination of it reveals further
possibilities of its having influenced not only the picture of
the same name, but the “Bal sous une Colonnade,” “Le Concert,”
and possibly others of Watteau’s composition, just as yet others
might have been partly inspired by Monteclair’s ballet “Les Fêtes
de l’Eté,” published in 1716, and Bertin’s “Les Plaisirs de la
Campagne,” published in 1719.
“Les Fêtes Vénitiennes” was in four acts or _entrées_, with a
prologue. The third act was entitled “De l’Opéra,” and opens with a
music-lesson, practically the rehearsal of a duet between Léontine,
the prima-donna, and her music master, just before the production
of a miniature opera; and the fourth is headed “Du Bal.” The stage
directions for this are: “_Le Théâtre représente un lieu préparé pour
un Bal_”; and in a bragging duel between the music-master and the
dancing-master the latter boasts:
“Je scais l’art de tracer aux yeux
Les sons qui frappent les oreilles,”
which the other counters by saying that he can raise a storm
musically, which he proceeds to do, giving a musical representation
of the rising wind, of thunder, and so on. This, however, is by
the way. The one thing important is that there _are_ these two
acts devoted to illustrating the charms of music and the dance,
that the opera contains an “air pour les Arlequins,” an “air des
Polichinelles,” an “air Champêtre,” and closes, as several other
ballets of the period also did, with a sort of _divertissement_,
introducing the Italian players, and a general gathering of all
the _dramatis personæ_ on the stage while the dances of this
_divertissement final_ are in progress; all of which suggests the
“Bal sous une Colonnade” of Watteau.
Monteclair’s “Les Fêtes de l’Eté” is of special interest in that
it was produced in 1716. In 1717 Watteau, after requests from the
Academy authorities, painted his diploma picture, the immortal
“Embarquement pour Cythère.” It would seem that Monteclair’s ballet
contains the first suggestions which culminated in that picture.
It is in three acts, with a prologue, and the stage directions for
this are: “_Le Théâtre représente une Campagne dont les beautés
commencent à fletrir: Le Printemps y paroit environné d’Amants et
Amantes qui lui font la cour._” In the course of the act one of the
lovers, expatiating on this charm of their surroundings, sings: “_Et
la mère du Dieu des Amants a quitté Cythère pour ces lieux charmés._”
The second act has the following stage directions at the start: “_Le
Théâtre représente un relais de chasse, on y voit un char doré,
une Meute et une partie de l’equipage des Chasseurs._” One of the
characters introduced is a young man, Lisidor, who is remarkable for
his indifference to feminine charms, and might well be the origin
of Watteau’s exquisite “L’Indifférent.” Another of the characters,
Dorante, is counselled to imitate him; and in a discussion between
Agatine and Cephise, the former is advised by the latter “_pour
s’assurer de ce qu’on aime, la feinte indifférence est d’un puissant
secours_.”
In 1730, by the way, a play was produced at the theatre of the St.
Laurent Fair called “L’Indifférence,” in which the hero preaches the
doctrine of indifference to love! Watteau, of course, cannot have
seen this play, but it is significant that both in 1716 and 1730, the
stage should be found dealing with what was evidently a current type
of character.
[Illustration: Mlle. Desmares en habit de Pèlerine
(_From the Jullienne engravings from Watteau, British Museum_).]
[Illustration: L’Embarquement pour l’Ile de Cythère
(_From a photograph, by E. Alinari, of Watteau’s painting in the
Louvre_).]
In the third act of Monteclair’s ballet, the opening directions are:
“_Le Théâtre représente les Rives de la Seine. On voit le soleil prêt
à se coucher_” (which might possibly account for the soft, warm tone
of Watteau’s Embarquement) and one of the characters comes to warn
some lovers with a song: “_Tendres amants, la Barque est prête_”;
and the ballet concludes with a _dance divertissement_, as was usual
at the period.
One cannot dogmatically assert that these operas _did_ directly
inspire the pictures named, but that Watteau caught his first
suggestion of some from such performances as his own taste and his
association with a theatrical and musical set would have led him to
frequent, must seem, at the least, probable.