Letter LII
Paris, January 18, 1802.
Of all the private lodgings in Paris, none certainly can be more convenient for the residence of a single man than those of
MILLINERS.
I have already said that such is the profession of my landlady. Whenever I am disposed for a little lively chitchat, I have only to step to the next door but one into her magazin de modes, where, like a favourite courtier, under the old régime, I have both les grandes et les petites entrées, or, in plain English, I may either introduce myself by the public front entrance, or slip in by the private back-door.
Here, twenty damsels are employed in making up head-dresses which are hourly produced and varied by fashion. Closely confined to the counter, with a needle in their hand, they are continually throwing their eyes towards the street. Not a passenger escapes their notice. The place the nearest to the window is in the greatest request, as being most favourable for catching the transient homages of the crowds of men continually passing and repassing. It is generally occupied by the beauty of the magazin or warehouse; for it would be resented as an almost unpardonable offence to term this emporium of taste a boutique or shop.
Before each of them is a block, on which they form and adjust the gallant trophy destined to heighten the loveliness of some ambitious fair who has set her heart on surpassing all her rivals at an approaching ball. Montesquieu observes, in his Persian letters, that "if a lady has taken it into her head to appear at an assembly in a particular dress, from that moment fifty persons of the working class must no longer sleep, or have time to eat and drink. She commands, and is obeyed more expeditiously than the king of Persia, because interest has greater sway than the most powerful monarch on earth."
In the morning, some of these damsels wait on the ladies with bandboxes of millinery. Obliged by their profession to adorn the heads of other women, they must stifle the secret jealousy of their sex, and contribute to set off the person of those who not unfrequently treat them with hauteur. However, they are now and then amply revenged: sometimes the proud rich lady is eclipsed by the humble little milliner. The unadorned beauty of the latter destroys the made up charms of the coquette: 'tis the triumph of nature over art.
If, perchance, the lover drops in, fatal consequences ensue. His belle cannot but lose by the comparison: her complexion appears still more artificial beside the natural bloom of the youthful marchande.
In a word, the silent admirer all at once becomes faithless.
Many a young Parisian milliner has made a jump from behind the counter into a fashionable carriage, even into that of an English peer. Strange revolution of fortune! In the course of a few days, she returns to the same shop to make purchases, holding high her head; and exulting in her success. Her former mistress, sacrificing her rage to her interest, assumes a forced complaisance; while her once-dear companions are ready to burst with envy.
Millinery here constitutes a very extensive branch of trade. Nothing short of the creative genius of the French could contrive to give, again and again, a new form to things the most common. In vain do females of other countries attempt to vie with them; in articles of tasteful fancy they still remain unrivaled.
From Paris, these studious mistresses of invention give laws to the polished world. After passing to London, Berlin, Hamburg, and Vienna, their models of fashion are disseminated all over Europe. These models alike travel to the banks of the Neva and the shores of the Propontis. At Constantinople, they find their way into the seraglio of the Grand Signior; while, at Petersburg, they are servilely copied to grace the Empress of Russia. Thus, the fold given to a piece of muslin or velvet, the form impressed on a ribband, by the hand of an ingenious French milliner, is repeated among all nations.
A fashion here does not last a week, before it is succeeded by another novelty; for a French woman of bon ton, instead of wearing what is commonly worn by others, always aims at appearing in something new. It is unfortunately too true, that the changeableness of taste and inconstancy of fashion in France furnish an aliment to the luxury of other countries; but the principle of this communication is in the luxury of this gay and volatile people.
You reproach me with being silent respecting the bals masqués or masquerades, mentioned in my enumeration of the amusements of Paris. The fact is that a description of them will scarcely furnish matter for a few lines, still less a subject for a letter. However, in compliance with custom, I have been more than once to the
BAL DE L'OPÉRA.
This is a masquerade frequently given in the winter, at the theatre of the grand French opera, where the pit is covered over, as that is of our opera-house in the Haymarket. From the powerful draught of air, which, coming from behind the scenes, may well be termed vent de coulisse, the room is as cold as the season.
Since the revolution, masquerades were strictly forbidden, and this prohibition continued under the directorial government. It is only since BONAPARTE'S accession to the post of Chief Magistrate, that the Parisians have been indulged with the liberty of wearing disguises during the carnival.
Of all the amusements in Paris, I have ever thought this the most tiresome and insipid. But it is the same at the Bal de l'Opéra as at Frascati, Longchamp, and other points of attraction here; every one is soon tired of them, and yet every one flocks thither. In fact, what can well be more tiresome than a place where you find persons masked, without wit or humour? Though, according to the old French saying, "I faut avoir bien peu d'esprit pour ne pas en avoir sous le masque?"
The men, who at a masquerade here generally go unmasked, think it not worth while to be even complaisant to the women, who are elbowed, squeezed, and carried by the tide from one end of the room to the other, before they are well aware of it. Dominos are the general dress. The music is excellent; but it is not the fashion to dance; and les femmes de bonne compagnie, that is, well-bred women, are condemned to content themselves with the dust they inhale; for they dare not quit their mask to take any refreshment. But, notwithstanding these inconveniences, it is here reckoned a fine thing to have been at a bal masqué when the crowd was great, and the pressure violent; as the more the ladies have shared in it, the more they congratulate themselves on the occasion.
Before the revolution, the grand ton was for gentlemen to go to the Bal de l'Opéra in a full-dress suit of black, and unmasked. Swords were here prohibited, as at Bath. This etiquette of dress, however, rendered not the company more select.
I remember well that at a masked ball at the Parisian opera, in the year 1785, the very first beau I recognized in the room, parading in a habit de cour, was my own perruquier. As at present, the amusement of the women then consisted in teazing the men; and those who had a disposition for intrigue, gave full scope to the impulse of their nature. The fille entretenue, the duchesse, and the bourgeoise, disguised under a similar domino, were not always distinguishable; and I have heard of a certain French marquis, who was here laid under heavy contribution for the momentary gratification of his caprice, though the object of it proved to be no other than his own cara sposa.
Letter LIII
Paris, January 19, 1802.
When you expressed your impatience to be informed of the dramatic amusements in Paris, I promised to satisfy you as soon as I was able; for I knew that you would not be contented with a superficial examination. Therefore, in reviewing the principal scenic establishments, I shall, as I have done before, exert my endeavours not only to make you acquainted with the best performers in every department, but also with the best stock-pieces, in order that, by casting your eye on the Affiches des Spectacles, when you visit this capital, you may at once form a judgment of the quality and quantity of the entertainment you are likely to enjoy at the representation of a particular piece, in which certain performers make their appearance. Since the revolution, the custom of printing the names of the actors and dancers in each piece, has been introduced. Formerly, amateurs often paid their money only to experience a disappointment; for, instead of seeing the hero or heroine that excited their curiosity, they had a bad duplicate, or, as the French term it, a double, imposed on them, more frequently through caprice than any other motive. This is now obviated; and, except in cases of sudden and unforeseen indisposition, you may be certain of seeing the best performers whenever their name is announced.
In speaking of the theatres, the pieces represented, and the merits of the performers, I cannot be supposed to be actuated by any prejudice or partiality whatever. I have, it is true, been favoured with the oral criticism of a man of taste, who, as a very old acquaintance, has generally accompanied me to the different spectacles; but still I have never adopted his sentiments, unless the truth of them had been confirmed by my own observation. From him I have been favoured with a communication of such circumstances respecting them as occurred during the revolution, when I was absent from Paris. You may therefore confidently rely on the candour and impartiality of my general sketch of the theatres; and if the stage be considered as a mirror which reflects the public mind, you will thence be enabled to appreciate the taste of the Parisians. Without forgetting that
"La critique est aisée, mais l'art est difficile,"
I shall indulge the hope that you will be persuaded that truth alone has guided my pen in this attempt to trace the attractions of the
THÉÂTRE FRANÇAIS DE LA RÉPUBLIQUE.
The house, now occupied by the performers of this theatre, was built at the beginning of the revolution by the late duke of Orleans, who, according to the opinion of those best acquainted with his schemes of profit, intended it for the representation of the grand French opera, for which, nevertheless, it is not sufficiently spacious.
It stands adjoining to the south-west angle of the Palais du Tribunat, with its front entrance in the Rue de la Loi. Its façade presents a row of twelve Doric columns, surmounted by as many Corinthian pilasters, crowned by their entablature. On the first story is an exterior gallery; ornamented by an iron balustrade, which runs the whole length of the façade, and communicates with the lobby. On the north side, and at the back of the theatre, on the ground-floor, are several covered galleries, bordered by shops, which communicate with the Rue St. Honoré and the Palais du Tribunat.
The vestibule, where four stair-cases terminate, is of an elliptic form, surrounded by three rows of Doric pillars. Above the vestibule, which is on the ground-floor, are the pit and lobby. The inside of the house, which is immoderately lofty, presents seven tiers of boxes, and, in the circumference, six Corinthian pillars. The ornaments, numerously scattered, are in relief. At a certain elevation, the plan of the house is changed by a recess made facing the stage. Two angels, above the stage-boxes, shock the eye by their enormous size. The boxes to the number of two hundred and twenty-two, are said to contain thirteen hundred persons; and the pit, including the orchestre,[1] seven hundred and twenty-four, making in all two thousand and twenty persons. The construction of this house is remarkable for iron only being employed in lieu of wood. The architect was LOUIS.
This theatre, which was begun in 1787, was finished in 1790, when, all privileges having been done away, it was first opened by a company of French comedians, who played tragedy and comedy. It then took the name of Théâtre Français de la Rue de Richelieu, which street was afterwards and is now called Rue de la Loi. Being opened at the commencement of the revolution, it naturally adopted its principles; and, when the National Convention had proclaimed the Republic, it assumed the pompous name of Théâtre de la République. The greater part of the actors who performed here, rendered themselves remarkable for their revolutionary ardour, and, during the reign of terror, it became a privileged theatre.
The Comédie Française in the Faubourg St. Germain, which, in its interior, presented the handsomest playhouse in Paris, was called l'Odéon a few years ago, and, since then, has been reduced by fire to a mere shell, the walls only being left standing. In 1789, this theatre appeared to follow the torrent of the revolution, and changed its name for that of Théâtre de la Nation. Nevertheless, the actors did not, on that account, relinquish the title of Comédiens ordinaires du Roi. Shortly after, they even became, in general, the declared partisans of the old régime, or at least of the court. Their house was frequently an arena where the two parties came to blows, particularly on the occasion of the tragedy of Charles Neuf, by CHÉNIER, and of the comedy of L'Ami des Loix. The former of these pieces, represented in the first ebullition of the revolution, was directed against the court; and the comedians refused to bring it on the stage, at the time of the assemblage of the national guards in Paris, on the 14th of July, 1790, known by the title of Federation. The latter was played after the massacres of September 1792, and had been composed with the laudable view of bringing back the public mind to sentiments of humanity, justice, and moderation. The maxims which it contained, being diametrically opposite to those of the plunderers who then reigned, that is, the members of the commune of Paris, the minority of the National Convention, the Jacobins, Cordeliers, &c. they interrupted the representation, and, after a great uproar, the piece was prohibited.
This minority of which I have just spoken, having succeeded in subduing the majority, nothing now stopped the rage of the revolutionary party. All those who gave them umbrage were imprisoned, and put to death with the forms of law. The comedians of the French theatre were thrown into prison; it appears that they were, both men and women, partly destined for the scaffold, and that if they escaped, it was through the address of a clerk of one of the Committees of Public Welfare or of Public Safety, who repeatedly concealed the documents containing the charges brought against them. It is said that the comedians purpose to prove their gratitude, so long delayed, to this young man, without putting themselves to any expense, by giving for his benefit an extraordinary representation.[2]
At length the happy 9th of Thermidor arrived; the prisons were thrown open; and, as you may well imagine in such a nation as this, the French comedians were not the last to be set at liberty. However, their theatre was not immediately restored to them. It was occupied by a sort of bastard spectacle, with the actors of which they were then obliged to form an association. This did not last long. The French comedians were received by the manager of the lyric theatre of the Rue Feydeau, whom they afterwards ruined. The actors of comedy, properly so called, contrived to expel those of tragedy, with whom they thought they could dispense; and, shortly, they themselves, notwithstanding their reputation, were deserted by the public. The heroes and heroines, with Mademoiselle RAUCOURT at their head, took possession of the theatre of the Rue de Louvois, and there prospered. But, after the 18th of Fructidor, (5th of September, 1797) the Directory caused this house to be shut up: the reason assigned was the representation given here of a little comedy, of ancient date however, and of no great importance, in which a knavish valet is called MERLIN, as was the Minister of Justice of that day, who since became director, not of the theatre, but of the republic. Mademoiselle RAUCOURT, who was directress of this theatre, returned with her company to the old theatre of the Faubourg St. Germain, which then took the name of l'Odéon.
In the mean time, the theatre of the Rue de Richelieu had perceptibly declined, after the fall of Robespierre, and the public appeared to have come to a positive determination to frequent it no longer. The manager of the Théâtre Feydeau, M. SARGENT, formerly a banker, who was rich, and enjoyed a good reputation, succeeded in uniting all the actors of the Comédie Française and those of the Théâtre de la République. This effected his own ruin. When he had relinquished the management of the undertaking, the government took it in hand, and definitively organized this tragic and comic association, to superintend which it appointed a special commissioner.
The repertoire (or list of pieces which are here played habitually, or have been acted with applause) is amazingly well furnished, and does infinite honour to French literature. It may be divided into two parts, the ancient and the modern. It is the former that deserves the encomium which I have just bestowed. In the line of Tragedy, it is composed of the greater part of the pieces of the four principal pillars of the temple of the French Melpomene: namely CORNEILLE[3], RACINE, CRÉBILLON, and VOLTAIRE, to whom may be added DU BELLOY, as well as of some detached pieces, such as Iphigénie en Tauride by GUIMOND DE LA TOUCHE, Le Comte de Warwick and Philoctète by LA HARPE. The modern repertoire, or list of stock-pieces, is formed of the tragedies of M. M. DUCIS, CHÉNIER, ARNAULT, LEGOUVÉ, and LE MERCIER.
In the line of Comedy, it is also very rich. You know that, at the head of the French comic authors, stands MOLIÈRE, who, in this country at least, has no equal, either among the ancients or the moderns. Several of his pieces are still represented, though they are not numerously attended; as well because manners are changed, as because the actors are no longer able to perform them. Next to MOLIÈRE, but at a great interval, comes REGNARD, whom the French comedians have deserted, for much the same reason: they no longer give any plays from the pen of this author, who possessed the vis comica, except Les Folies Amoureuses, a pretty little comedy in three acts. We no longer hear of his Joueur and his Légataire Universel, which are chefs d'oeuvre. There are likewise the works of DESTOUCHES, who has written Le Glorieux, Le Dissipateur, and La Fausse Agnès, which are always played with applause. Le Méchant, by GRESSET, is a masterpiece in point of style, and La Métromanie, by PIRON, the best of French comedies, next to those of MOLIÈRE and REGNARD. Then come the works of LA CHAUSSÉE, who is the father of the drame, and whose pieces are no longer represented, though he has composed several, such as La Gouvernante, L'École des Mères, Le Préjugé à la Mode, which, notwithstanding, their whining style, are not destitute of merit, and those of DANCOURT, who has written several little comedies, of a very lively cast, which are still played, and those of MARIVAUX, whose old metaphysical jargon still pleases such persons as have their head full of love. I might augment this list by the name of several other old authors, whose productions have more or less merit.
The number of modern French comic authors is very limited; for it is not even worthwhile to speak of a few little comedies in one act, the title of which the public scarcely remember. According to this calculation, there is but one single comic author now living. That is COLIN D'HARLEVILLE, who has written L'Inconstant, Les Châteaux en Espagne, Le Vieux Célibataire, and Les Moeurs du Jour, which are still represented. Le Vieux Célibataire is always received with much applause. In general, the pieces of M. COLIN are cold, but his style is frequently graceful: he writes in verse; and the whole part of L'Inconstant is very agreeably written. Indeed, that piece is the best of this author.
FABRE D'EGLANTINE is celebrated as an actor in the revolution (I mean on the political stage), and as the author who has produced the best piece that has appeared since La Métromanie. It is the Philinte de Molière, which, in some measure, forms a sequel to the comedy of the Misanthrope. Nevertheless, this title is ill chosen; for the character of the Philinte in the piece of MOLIÈRE, and that of FABRE'S piece scarcely bear any resemblance. We might rather call it the Égoiste. Although the comic part of it is weak, the piece is strongly conceived, the fable very well managed, the style nervous but harsh, and the third act is a chef-d'oeuvre.
Since the death of FABRE, another piece of his has been acted, entitled Le Précepteur. In this piece are to be recognized both his manner and his affected philosophical opinions. His object is to vaunt the excellence of the education recommended by J. J. ROUSSEAU, though the revolution has, in a great measure, proved the fallacy of the principles which it inculcates. As these, however, are presented with art, the piece had some success, and still maintains its ground on the stage. It was played for the first time about two years ago. The surname of EGLANTINE, which FABRE assumed, arose from his having won the prize at the Floral games at Toulouse. The prize consisted of an eglantine or wild rose in gold. Before he became a dramatic author, he was an actor and a very bad actor. Being nominated member of the National Convention, he distinguished himself in that assembly, not by oratorical talents, but by a great deal of villainy. He did not think as he acted or spoke. When the montagnards[4] or mountaineers, that is, those monsters who were always thirsting for blood, divided, he appeared for some time to belong to the party of DANTON, who, however, denied him when they were both in presence of each other at the bar of the revolutionary tribunal. DANTON insisted that he who had been brought to trial for a just cause, if not a just motive, ought not to be confounded with stealers of port-folios.[5] They were both sentenced to die, and accordingly executed.
Among the comic authors of our age, some people would reckon DUMOUSTIER, whose person was held in esteem, but whose works are below mediocrity. They are Le Conciliateur, a comedy in five acts, and Les Femmes, a comedy in three acts. The latter appears to be the picture of a brothel. They are both still played, and both have much vogue, which announces the total decline of the art.
There is a third species of dramatic composition, proscribed by the rules of good taste, and which is neither tragedy nor comedy, but participates of both. It is here termed drame. Although LA CHAUSSÉE is the father of this tragi-comic species of writing, he had not, however, written any tragédies bourgeoises, and the French declare that we have communicated to them this contagion; for their first drame, Beverley, ou le Joueur Anglais is a translation in verse from the piece of that name of our theatre. The celebrated LEKAIN[6] opposed its being acted, and affirmed with reason that this mixture of the two species of drama hurt them both. MOLÉ, who was fond of applause easily obtained, was the protector of the piece, and played the part of Beverley with success; but this drame is no longer performed on the Parisian stage. Next to this, comes Le Père de Famille, by DIDEROT. It is a long sermon. However, it presents characters well drawn. This species of composition is so easy that the number of drames is considerable; but scarcely any of them are now performed, except Eugénie and La Mère Coupable, by BEAUMARCHAIS,[7] which are frequently represented. I shall not finish this article without reminding you that MERCIER has written so many drames that he has been called Le Dramaturge. All his are become the prey of the little theatres and the aliment of the provincial departments. This circumstance alone would suffice to prove the mediocrity of the drame. MONVEL, of whom I shall soon have occasion to speak, would well deserve the same title.
[Footnote 1: This is a place, so called in French theatres, comprising four or five rows of benches, parted off, between the place where the musicians are seated and the front of the pit.]
[Footnote 2: It is not mentioned whether these sons and daughters of Thespis, who have since gained a great deal of money, have offered any private remuneration to their benefactor, rather to their guardian-angel.] [TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: The scan of this footnote was imperfect. Some of the text was interpolated.]
[Footnote 3: Of course, PIERRE CORNEILLE is here meant. THOMAS CORNEILLE, who was surnamed the Great, must not, however be forgotten. THOMAS is the author of Ariane and le Comte d'Essex, a tragedy much esteemed, and which is deserving of estimation.]
[Footnote 4: Thus called, because they formed a very close and very elevated group at one of the extremities of the hall of the National Convention.]
[Footnote 5: FABRE D'EGLANTINE was tried for having, in concert with certain stock-jobbers, proposed and caused the adoption of decrees concerning the finances.]
[Footnote 6: LEKAIN said humourously that to play the drame well, it was sufficient to know how to make a summerset.]
[Footnote 7: Every one is acquainted with the two comedies written by this author, Le Barbier de Seville and Le Mariage de Figaro. The astonishing run of the latter, which was acted one hundred and fifty succeeding nights, was greatly owing to BEAUMARCHAIS having there turned into ridicule several persons of note in the ministry and the parliament: La Mère Coupable, which is often given, is the sequel to Le Mariage de Figaro, as that piece is to Le Barbier de Seville.]
Letter LIV
Paris, January 20, 1802.
Let us now examine the merits of the principal performers belonging to the Théâtre Français.
TRAGEDY.
Noble Fathers, or characters of Kings.
VANHOVE, MONVEL, ST. PRIX, and NAUDET.
VANHOVE. This king of the Théâtre Français neither has majesty nor nobleness of manner. His countenance is mean, and his make common. His monotonous and heavy utterance is sometimes intermingled with yelping sounds. He possesses no sensibility, and substitutes noise for expression. His mediocrity caused him to be received at the old Comédie Française; for the first or principal actors of that theatre were rather fond of receiving persons of weak talents, merely that they might be set off. He doubled BRIZARD, whom nature had endowed with the happiest gifts for tragedy.
VANHOVE was the first player ever called for by a Parisian audience after the representation, in order to express to him their satisfaction. However, it may be proper to observe that, in such cases, it is always some friend of the author who takes the lead. VANHOVE no longer obtains this favour at present, and is seldom applauded. He also plays the parts of fathers in comedy.
MONVEL. This actor is not near so old as VANHOVE; but the decay of his person is such that, when he plays, he seems a skeleton bestirring itself, or that is set in motion. It is a misfortune for him that his physical means betray his talents. MONVEL is a man of genius. Thus gifted, it is not astonishing that he has a just diction, and is not deficient in intelligence. Some persons doubt whether he has real sensibility; but he at least presents the appearance of it. He, in some measure, breaks his voice, and vents mournful accents which produce much effect. With a constitution extremely weak, it is impossible that he should perform characters which require energy and pride. He therefore confines himself to those in which the pathetic is predominant, or which do not imperiously demand great efforts, such as Auguste in Cinna, Burrhus in Britannicus, Brutus in the tragedy of that name (now no longer played), Lusignan in Zaire, Zopire in Mahomet, Fénélon[1] and l'Abbé de l'Epée in the two pieces of that name. His stock of characters then is by no means extensive. We may also add to it the part of Ésope à la cour, in the comedy of that name by BOURSAULT, which he plays or recites in great perfection, because it is composed of fables only. MONVEL delivers them with neatness and simplicity. For this part he has no equal in France.[2]
MONVEL is author as well as actor. He has composed several comic operas and drames; and his pieces, without being good, have always obtained great applause. His drames are l'Amant Bourru, Clémentine et Désormes, Les Amours de Bayard, Les Victimes Cloitrées, &c. You will find in them forced situations, but set off by sentiment. He is lavish of stage-effect and that always pleases the multitude. L'Amant Bourru has alone remained as a stock-piece.
By his zeal for the revolution, he alienated from him a great part of the public. When every principle of religion was trodden under foot, and, under the name of festivals of reason or of the goddess of reason, orgies of the most scandalous nature were celebrated in the churches, MONVEL ascended the pulpit of the parish of St. Roch, and preached atheism before an immense congregation. Shortly after, Robespierre caused the National Convention to proclaim the following declaration: "_The French people acknowledge the Supreme Being and the immortality of the soul." MONVEL trembled; and it is probable that, had not that sanguinary tyrant been overthrown, the atheistical preacher would have descended from the pulpit only to ascend the scaffold.[3]
ST. PRIX. He has no fixed employment. Sometimes he plays the parts of kings, sometimes those of lovers; but excels in none. He would be a very handsome man, were it possible to be so with a face void of expression. Nature has given him a strong but hollow voice; and he recites so coldly, that he makes the public yawn, and seems sometimes to yawn himself. When he means to display warmth, he screams and fatigues the ear without mercy.
NAUDET. This man, who is great only in stature, quitted the rank of serjeant in the Gardes Françaises to become a bad player. In the character of kings, he scarcely now appears but to personate tyrants. He is very cold, and speaks through his nose like a Capuchin friar, which has gained him the appellation of the Reverend Father NAUDET.
First parts or principal lovers, in Tragedy.
TALMA, and LAFOND.
TALMA. The great reputation which circumstances and his friends[4] have given to this actor has, probably, rendered him celebrated in England. His stature and his voice (which, in theatrical language, is called organ), should seem to qualify him for the parts of jeunes premiers only, of which I shall say more hereafter. Accordingly he made his début in that line about fifteen or sixteen years ago. Without being brilliant, his first appearances were successful, and he was received on trial. He soon caused himself to be remarked by the correctness of his dress.[5] But what fixed attention on TALMA, was the part of Charles Neuf, which he plays in the tragedy of that name.[6] In the riots to which this piece gave rise in 1790, TALMA figured as a patriot. Having fallen out with the comedians who had behaved ill to him, and no longer placed him in any other parts than those of confidants, he was engaged at the new Théâtre Français of the Rue de Richelieu, where it was proposed to him to perform the characters which pleased him best, that is, the best in each piece. Thus he was seen alternately personating young princes, heroes, and tyrants.
TALMA is now reduced to those of the old stock. The characters he at present represents are Cinna in the tragedy of that name by CORNEILLE, Oreste in the Andromaque of RACINE, Néron in the Britannicus of the same, OEdipe in the tragedy of that name by VOLTAIRE, and Faïel in Gabrielle du Vergy by DU BELLOY, Oreste in Iphigénie en Tauride by GUIMOND DE LA TOUCHE, and Ægisthe in the Agamemnon of LE MERCIER. TALMA also plays many other parts, but, in these, he makes no great figure. He had a great aversion to old pieces, and as long as he preserved his sway at the theatre, very few, if any were performed. In fact, there are many in which he is below mediocrity.
You will certainly expect that I should tell you what constitutes the talent of this performer. He is small in stature, thin in person, and rather ill-made; his arms and legs being bowed, which he takes care to conceal by the fulness of his garments. He has a fine eye, and his features are regular, but too delicate for the perspective of the theatre. He has long since adopted the antique head-dress,[7] and has contributed to bring it into fashion. He distinguished himself formerly in Paris by wearing clothes of a strange form. As an actor, he has no nobleness of manner, and not unfrequently his gestures are aukward. His deportment is always ungraceful, though he often endeavours to imitate the posture of the antique statues; but even then he presents only a caricature. His countenance has little or no expression, except in moments of rage or terror. In pourtraying the latter sentiment, all the faculties of his soul appear absorbed; yet, though his distraction seems complete, there is a sort of silliness blended with his stupor, which certain persons take for truth, and which is much more perceptible in the rest of his characters. In rage, he is a tiger mangling his prey, and sometimes you might believe that you heard that animal drawing his breath. TALMA has never expressed well a tender, generous, or noble sentiment. His soul is neither to be softened nor elevated; and, to produce effect, he must be in a terror or in a rage; but then he makes a great impression on the majority of the public. His utterance is slow, minced, and split into syllables. His voice is hollow; but, in moments of rage, it is strong, yet without being of a considerable volume. He is generally reproached with being deficient in sensibility: I think, however, that, by dint of labour, he might paint feeling; for I have heard him render delicate passages happily enough. He is accused here of having adopted the English style of acting, though, as far as my opinion goes, with little or no foundation. Be this as it may, he passed the early part of his youth in London, where his father resides, and follows the profession of a dentist. The son may now be about thirty-eight years of age.
TALMA preserves the reputation of being a zealous partisan of the revolution; but I am confidently assured that he never injured any one, and held in horror the assassinations which have left an indelible stain on that event. He was intimately connected with the deputies, styled Girondists or Brisotins, who perished on the scaffold, after their party was overcome, on the 31st of May, 1793, by that of the ferocious mountaineers. The latter warmly reproached TALMA with having, in the year 1792, after the retreat of the Prussians, given a fête or grand supper to the famous DUMOURIEZ, with whom they were beginning to fall out, and whom they accused of treason for not having taken the king of Prussia prisoner. The hideous MARAT, I am told, went to call on that general at TALMA'S, where the company received him very cavalierly, and when he was gone, DUGAZON the actor, hot-headed revolutionist as he was, by way of pleasantry, pretended to purify the room by burning sugar in a chaffing-dish. All this amounted to more than was necessary for being condemned by the revolutionary tribunal; and TALMA, being detested by ROBESPIERRE, would, in all probability, have been delivered over to that tribunal, but for the protection of DAVID, the celebrated painter, who was concerting with him about changing the form of dress of the French people. During all the reign of terror, TALMA and his wife were in continual fear of the scaffold.
LAFOND. TALMA reigned, and was in possession of the first cast of parts. Of these, he played whatever suited him, and rejected what he disliked, when about a year ago, there appeared in the same line a young actor of a rather tall and well-proportioned stature, and whom Nature had, besides, gifted with an agreeable countenance and a tolerably good voice. He had played in the provincial theatres; but, in order to overcome every obstacle which might be opposed to his début, he became a pupil of DUGAZON, an actor of comedy, and what is more singular, of one more frequently a buffoon than a comedian. The latter, however, is said to possess a knowledge of the style of playing of the actors who, thirty years ago, graced the French stage, and consequently may be capable of giving good advice.
By means of this powerful protection, LAFOND got the better of every difficulty. This actor made his first appearance in the character of Achille in the tragedy of Iphigénie en Aulide by RACINE. He was not the Achilles of Homer, nor even that of the piece, or at best he represented him in miniature. However, his diction generally just, his acting, some grace, and, above all, the fatigue and ennui which TALMA impressed on many of the spectators, procured this rival a decisive success. As is customary in such cases, the newspapers were divided in opinion. The majority declared for LAFOND, and none of the opposite side spoke unfavourably of him. It was not so with TALMA. Some judged him harshly, calling him a detestable actor, while others bestowed on him the epithet of sublime, which, at the present day, has scarcely any signification; so much is it lavished on the most indifferent performers. This instance proves the fact; for if TALMA has reached the sublime, it is le sublime de la Halle.
These two rivals might live in peace; the parts which suit the one, being absolutely unfit for the talents of the other. TALMA requires only concentered rage, sentiments of hatred and vengeance, which certainly belong to tragedy, but which ought not to be expressed as if they came from the mouth of a low fellow, unworthy of figuring in an action of this kind; and LAFOND is little qualified for any other than graceful parts, bordering on knight-errantry or romance. His best character is Achille. I have also seen him perform, if not in a manner truly tragic, at least highly satisfactory, Rodrigue in Le Cid of CORNEILLE, and the part of Tancrède in VOLTAIRE'S tragedy of that name. LAFOND obtains the preference over TALMA in the character of Orosmane in the tragedy of Zaïre; a character which is the touchstone of an actor. Not that he excels in it. He has not a marked countenance, the dignity, the tone of authority, the energy, and the extreme sensibility which characterize this part. He is not the Sultan who commands. He is, if you please, a young commis very amorous, a little jealous, who gets angry, and becomes good-humoured again; but at least he is not a ferocious being, as TALMA represents Orosmane, in moments of rage and passion, or an unfeeling one in those which require sensibility.
LAFOND is reproached sometimes with a bombastic and inflated tone. Feeling that he is deficient in the necessary powers, he swells his voice, which is prejudicial to truth, and without truth, there is no theatrical illusion. Nature had intended him for the parts of young lovers, of which I shall presently speak. His features are too delicate, his countenance not sufficiently flexible, and his person bespeaks too little of the hero, for great characters. But when he first appeared, there was a vacancy in this cast of parts, and none in the other.
Jeunes Premiers, or parts of young Lovers.
ST. FAL, DAMAS, and DUPONT.
ST. FAL. This performer, who is upwards of forty-five, has never had an exterior sufficiently striking to turn the brain of young princesses. Every thing in his person is common, and his acting is really grotesque. However, not long since he frequently obtained applause by a great affectation of sensibility and a stage-trick, which consists in uttering loud, harsh, and hoarse sounds after others faint and scarcely articulated. He has, besides, but a trivial or burlesque delivery, and no dignity, no grace in his deportment or gestures.
DAMAS. He is much younger than ST. FAL, but his gait and carriage are vulgar. He is not deficient in warmth; but all this is spoiled by a manner the most common. He first played at the theatres on the Boulevard, and will never be able to forget the lessons he imbibed in that school. It is with him as with the rabbits of which BOILEAU makes mention, in one of his Satires where he describes a bad dinner,
"-------- et qui, nés dans Paris, Sentaient encore le chou dont ils furent nourris."
The drame is the style in which DAMAS best succeeds. There is one in particular, Le Lovelace Français, where he personates an upholsterer of the Rue St. Antoine, who has just been cornuted by the young Duke of Richelieu. This part he performs with much truth, and avec rondeur, as the critics here express it, to signify plain-dealing. But DAMAS is no less ignoble in comedy than in tragedy.
DUPONT. This young actor, who is of a very delicate constitution, has never had what we call great powers on the stage; and a complaint in his tongue has occasioned a great difficulty in his articulation. Without having a noble air, he has something distinguishing in his manner. His delivery is correct; but the defect of which I have spoken has rendered him disagreeable to the public, who manifest it to him rather rudely, though he has sometimes snatched from them great applause.
After all the actors I have mentioned, come the confidants, a dull and stupid set, of whom one only deserves mention, not as an actor, but as an author. This is DUVAL. He has written that pretty comic opera, entitled Le Prisonnier, as well as Maison à vendre, and several drames, among which we must not forget Le Lovelace Français, ou la Jeunesse du Duc de Richelieu, the piece before-mentioned.
January 20, in continuation.
Next follow the daughters of Melpomene, or those heroines who make the most conspicuous figure in Tragedy.
Characters of Queens.
Mesdames RAUCOURT and VESTRIS.
Mademoiselle RAUCOURT. Never did début make more noise than that of this actress, who appeared for the first time on the French stage about thirty years ago, and might then be sixteen or seventeen years of age. She was a pupil of Mademoiselle CLAIRON, who had a numerous party, composed of Encyclopædists, French academicians, and almost all the literati of Paris. The zeal of her friends, the youth, tall stature, and person of the débutante supplied the place of talent; and her instructress has recorded in her memoirs that all her labour was lost. The success, however, of Mademoiselle RAUCOURT was such, that there were, it is said, several persons squeezed to death at the door of the playhouse. What increased enthusiasm in favour of the young actress was, that a reputation for virtue was granted to her as great and as justly merited as that for talent. Her father declared in the public lobby that he would blow out her brains if he suspected her of having the smallest intrigue. He kept not his word. Besides, it is well known that his daughter always took care to conduct herself in such a manner as to set the foresight even of jealousy at defiance. Her penchant not leaving her the resource to which women of her profession generally recur, and her expenses being considerable, her debts increased; and to avoid the pursuit of her creditors she took refuge in Germany with her tender friend, Mademoiselle SOUK, who has since been mistress to the late king of Prussia. They both travelled over that country, and a thousand reports are circulated to their shame; but the most disgraceful of these are said to be unfounded. The protection of the queen of France, who paid her debts repeatedly, at length restored her to the Comédie Française. Such inconsiderate conduct did no small injury to that unfortunate princess, whom I mention with concern on such an occasion.
The stature of Mademoiselle RAUCOURT is colossal, and when she presents herself, she has a very imposing look. Her face, however, is not so noble; she has small eyes, and her features have not that flexibility necessary for expressing the movements of the passions. Her voice was formerly very full in the medium of level-speaking; but it seemed like that of a man. When you heard it for the first time, you thought that, in impassioned sentences, she was going to thunder; but, on the contrary, she assumed a very extensive falsetto, which formed the most singular contrast with the dull sounds that had preceded it. That defect, perhaps, is somewhat less striking at the present day; but the voice of this actress is become hoarse, like that of persons who make a frequent use of strong liquors. The delivery of Mademoiselle RAUCOURT is, in general, just and correct; for she is allowed to have understanding; yet, as she neither has warmth nor sensibility, she produces scarcely any effect. Plaudits most frequently burst forth when she appears; but, though these are obtained, she never touches the feelings of the spectator, she never reaches his heart, even in the parts, where she has had the most vogue. That of Médée, in which she has begun to reestablish her declining reputation, was neither better felt nor better expressed. She was indebted for the success she obtained in it only to the magician's robe, to the wand, and to a stage-trick which consists in stooping and then raising herself to the utmost height at the moment when she apostrophizes the sun. In the scene of Medea with her children, a heart-rending and terrible scene, there was nothing but dryness and a total absence of every maternal feeling.
The characters of queens, which Mademoiselle RAUCOURT performs, are the first cast of parts at the theatre. It consists of those of mothers and a few parts of enraged or impassioned lovers. In the works of CORNEILLE, the principal ones are Cléopatre in Rodogune, and Cornélie in the Mort de Pompée. In RACINE'S, the parts of Athalie and of Phèdre in the tragedies of the same name, of Agrippine in Britannicus, of Clitemnestre in Iphigénie en Aulide, and of Roxane in Bajazet. In VOLTAIRE'S, those of Mérope and Sémiramis; and, lastly, that of Médée in the tragedy by LONGEPIERRE.
Like all the performers belonging to the Théâtre Français, Mademoiselle RAUCOURT was imprisoned during the reign of terror. The patriots of that day bore her much ill-will, and it is asserted that Robespierre had a strong desire to send her to the guillotine. When she reappeared on the stage, the public compensated her sufferings, and to this circumstance she owes the rather equivocal reputation she has since enjoyed.
Madame VESTRIS. Although she has been a very long time on the Parisian stage, this actress is celebrated only from the famous quarrel she had twenty years ago with Mademoiselle SAINVAL the elder. Through the powerful protection of the Marshal de DURAS,[8] her lover, she prevailed over her formidable rival, who, however, had on her side the public, and the sublimity of her talent. This quarrel arose from Madame VESTRIS wishing to wrest from Mademoiselle SAINVAL the parts for which she was engaged. A memoir, written by an indiscreet friend, in favour of the latter, which she scorned to disavow, and in which the court was not spared, caused her to be banished from the capital by a lettre de cachet. The public, informed of her exile, called loudly for Mademoiselle SAINVAL. No attention was paid to this by the higher powers, and the guard at the theatre was tripled, in order to insure to Madame VESTRIS the possibility of performing her part. Nevertheless, whenever she made her appearance, the public lavished on her hisses, groans, and imprecations. All this she braved with an effrontery, which occasioned them to be redoubled. But, as all commotions subside in time, Madame VESTRIS remained mistress of the stage; while Mademoiselle SAINVAL travelled over the provinces, where the injustice of the court towards her caused no less regret than the superiority of her talent excited admiration.
Madame VESTRIS was rather handsome, and this explains the whole mystery. She had, above all, a most beautiful arm, and paid no small attention to her toilet. She delivers her parts with tolerable correctness, but her tone is heavy and common. The little warmth with which she animates her characters, is the production of an effort; for she neither possesses energy nor feeling. Her gestures correspond with her acting, and she has no dignity in her deportment. She seldom appears on the stage at present, which saves her from the mortification of being hissed. She is now old, and the political opinion of those who frequent most the theatres rouses them against her.
Although the court had really committed itself to favour her, Madame VESTRIS was the first to betray her noble patrons. At the period of the revolution, she quitted the old Comédie Française, taking with her DUGAZON, her father, and TALMA, and founded the present theatre, styled Théâtre de la République. She was also followed by several authors; for not being able to conceal from herself the mediocrity of her talents, especially in such parts of the old plays as had been performed by other actresses in a manner far superior, she facilitated the representation of new pieces, in which she had not to fear any humiliating comparison. The principal of these authors were LA HARPE, DUCIS, and CHÉNIER. The last, who, besides, is famous as member of the National Convention and other Legislative Assemblies, composed the tragedy of Charles Neuf, in which Madame VESTRIS, playing the part of Catherine de Médicis, affected, I am told, to advance her under-lip, _à l'Autrichienne, in order to occasion comparisons injurious to the ill-fated Marie-Antoinette.[9]
Characters of Princesses.
Mesdames FLEURY, TALMA, BOURGOIN, and VOLNAIS.
Mademoiselle FLEURY. She has no longer youth nor beauty, and her talents as an actress are much on a par with her personal attractions. She recites with judgment, but almost always with languor, and betrays a want of warmth. Besides, her powers have declined. However, she sometimes displays energetic flashes of a real tragic truth; but they are borrowed, and it is affirmed, not without foundation, that Mademoiselle SAINVAL the elder (who is still living) has been so obliging as to lend them to her.
Madame TALMA. For this name she is indebted to a divorce, having snatched TALMA from his first wife, an elderly woman who had ruined herself for him, or whom he had ruined. She quitted her first husband, a dancing-master of the name of PETIT, to live under the more than friendly protection of Mademoiselle RAUCOURT.----Madame TALMA is not handsome, and is now on the wane. She plays tragedy, comedy, and the drame; but has no real talent, except in the last-mentioned line. In the first, she wants nobleness and energy. Her delivery is monotonous. It is said in her praise, that she has "tears in her voice." I believe that it seldom happens to her to have any in her eyes, and that this sensibility, for which some would give her credit, proceeds not from her heart. In comedy, she wishes to assume a cavalier and bold manner, brought into vogue by Mademoiselle CONTAT. This manner by no means suits Madame TALMA, who neither has elegance in her shape, nor animation in her features. In the drame, her defects disappear, and her good qualities remain. She then is really interesting, and her efforts to please are rewarded by the applause of the public.
Mademoiselle BOURGOIN. With respect to this young lady, a powerful protection serves her in lieu of talent; for she is handsome. She persists in playing tragedy, which is not her fort. In comedy, she appears to advantage.
Mademoiselle VOLNAIS. This is a very young girl. All she says is in a crying tone, and what is worse, she seems not to comprehend what she says. In the characters which she first represented she was very successful, but is no longer so at the present day.
Characters of Confidantes.
Mesdames SUIN and THÉNARD.
There are two only who are deserving of notice. The one is Madame SUIN, who certainly justifies the character she bears of a woman of judgment; for she has the most just delivery of all the performers belonging to the Théâtre Français; but she is advanced in years, and the public often treat her with rudeness. The other confidante is Mademoiselle THÉNARD, who has played the parts of princesses at this theatre with a partial success.
There are also other confidantes, whom it is not worth while to mention.
I shall conclude this account of the tragedians belonging to the Théâtre Français, by observing that the revolution is said to have given a new turn to the mind and character of the French women; and the success which several actresses, at this day obtain in the dramatic career, in the line of tragedy, is quoted in support of this opinion. For a number of years past, as has been seen, Melpomene seemed to have placed the diadem on the head of Mademoiselle RAUCOURT, and this tragic queen would probably have grown gray under the garments of royalty, had not the revolution imparted to her sex a degree of energy sufficient for them to dispute her empire. Women here have seen so many instances of cruelty, during the last ten or twelve years, they have participated, in a manner more or less direct, in an order of things so replete with tragical events, that those among them who feel a penchant for the stage, find themselves, in consequence, disposed to figure in tragedy.[10]
[Footnote 1: Fénélon is no longer performed. It is a very bad tragedy by Chénier.]
[Footnote 2: There are players members of the National Institute. MONVEL belongs to the Class of Literature and the Fine Arts.]
[Footnote 3: Notwithstanding the ill effects likely to result from such doctrine, far more dangerous to society than the poniards of a host of assassins, it appears that, when those actors called terrorists, or partisans of terror, were hunted down, MONVEL was not molested.]
[Footnote 4: There are a great many enthusiastic admirers of his talent.]
[Footnote 5: It is really to TALMA that the French are indebted for the exact truth of costume which is at this day to be admired on the theatres of Paris, especially in new pieces. An inhabitant of a country the most remote might believe himself in his native land; and were an ancient Greek or Roman to come to life again, he might imagine that the fashion of his day had experienced no alteration.]
[Footnote 6: The subject of it is the massacre of St. Bartholomew's day.]
[Footnote 7: He wears his hair cut short, and without powder.]
[Footnote 8: One evening at the opera, M. DE DURAS authoritatively took possession of a box hired for the night by another person. The latter, dreading his power, but at the same time desirous to stigmatize him, said: "'Tis not he who took Minorca, 'tis not he who took this place nor that, the man of whom I complain, never took any thing in his life but my box at the opera!"]
[Footnote 9: All the princes and princesses of the House of Austria have the under-lip very prominent.]
[Footnote 10: The example of Mesdemoiselles BOURGOIN and VOLNAIS having proved that first-rate talents were not necessary for being received at the Théâtre Français, as a tragic queen or princess, the number of candidates rapidly increased. For several months past, the merit of these débutantes has been the general concern of all Paris. Each had her instructor, and, of course, was carefully tutored for the occasion.
M. LEGOUVÉ, the tragic writer, first brought forward on this stage Mademoiselle DUCHESNOIS, a girl about twenty, extremely ill-favoured by nature. DUGAZON, the actor, next introduced Madame XAVIER, a very handsome and elegant woman. Lastly, Mademoiselle RAUCOURT presented her pupil, Mademoiselle GEORGES WEIMER, a young girl of perfect beauty. Mademoiselle DUCHESNOIS played Phèdre, in RACINE'S tragedy of that name, seven successive times. She certainly displayed a semblance of sensibility, and, notwithstanding the disadvantages of her person, produced such an effect on the senses of the debauched Parisian youth by the libidinous manner she adopted in the scene where Phèdre declares her unconquerable passion for her son-in-law Hippolyte, that her success was complete. What greater proof can be adduced of the vitiated taste of the male part of the audience? She also performed Sémiramis, Didon, and Hermione; but in the first two characters she betrayed her deficiency. The next who entered the lists was Madame XAVIER. On her début in Sémiramis, she was favourably received by the public; but, afterwards, choosing to act Hermione, the partisans of Mademoiselle DUCHESNOIS assembled in such numbers as to constitute a decided majority in the theatre. Not content with interrupting Madame XAVIER, and hissing her off the stage, they waited for her at the door of the play-house, and loaded her with the grossest abuse and imprecations. Lastly appeared Mademoiselle GEORGES WEIMER. Warned by the disgraceful conduct of the Duchesnistes (as they are called) towards Madame XAVIER, the comedians, by issuing a great number of orders, contrived to anticipate them, and obtain a majority, especially in the pit. Mademoiselle GEORGES made her début in the character of Clitemnestre, and was well received. Her beauty excited enthusiasm, and effected a wonderful change in public opinion. After playing several parts in which Mademoiselle DUCHESNOIS had either failed, or was afraid to appear, she at last ventured to rival her in that of Phèdre. At the first representation of the piece, Mademoiselle GEORGES obtained only a partial success; but, at the second, she was more fortunate. The consequence, however, had well nigh proved truly tragic. The Duchesnistes and Georgistes had each taken their posts, the one on the right side of the pit; the other, on the left. When Mademoiselle GEORGES was called for after the performance, and came forward, in order to be applauded, the former party hissed her, when the latter falling on them, a general battle ensued. The guard was introduced to separate the combatants; but the Duchesnistes were routed; and, being the aggressors, several of them were conducted to prison. The First Consul assisted at this representation; yet his presence had no effect whatever in restraining the violence of these dramatic factions.
Since then, Mesdemoiselles DUCHESNOIS and GEORGES have both been received into the company of the Théâtre Français. Madame XAVIER has returned to the provinces.]
Letter LV
Paris, January 22, 1802.
The observation with which I concluded my last letter, might explain why the votaries of Thalia gain so little augmentation to their number; while those of Melpomene are daily increasing. I shall now proceed to investigate the merits of the former, at the Théâtre Français.
COMEDY.
Parts of noble Fathers.
VANHOVE and NAUDET.
VANHOVE. This actor is rather more sufferable in comedy than tragedy; but in both he is very monotonous, and justifies the lines applied to him by a modern satirist, M. DESPAZE:
"VANHOVE, _plus heureux, psalmodie à mon gré; Quel succès l'attendait, s'il eût été Curé!_"
NAUDET. I have already said that the Reverend Father NAUDET, as he is called, played the parts of tyrants in tragedy. Never did tyrant appear so inoffensive. As well as VANHOVE, in comedy, he neither meets with censure nor applause from the public.
First parts, or principal lovers, in Comedy.
MOLÉ, FLEURY, and BAPTISTE the elder.
MOLÉ. At this name I breathe. Perhaps you have imagined that ill-humour or caprice had till now guided my pen; but, could I praise the talent of MOLÉ as he deserves, you would renounce that opinion.
MOLÉ made his début at the Comédie Française about forty-five years ago. He had some success; but as the Parisian public did not then become enthusiasts in favour of mere beginners, he was sent into the provinces to acquire practice. At the expiration of two or three years, he returned, and was received to play the parts of young lovers in tragedy and comedy. He had not all the nobleness requisite for the first-mentioned line of acting; but he had warmth and an exquisite sensibility. In a word, he maintained his ground by the side of Mademoiselle DUMESNIL and LEKAIN, two of the greatest tragedians that ever adorned the French stage. For a long time he was famous in the parts of petits-maîtres, in which he shone by his vivacity, levity, and grace.
This actor was ambitious in his profession. Although applauded, and perhaps more so than LEKAIN, he was perfectly sensible that he produced not such great, such terrible effects; and he favoured the introduction of the drame, which is a mixture of tragedy and comedy. But those who most detest the whining style of this species of composition are compelled to acknowledge that MOLÉ was fascinating in the part of St. Albin, in DIDEROT'S Père de Famille.
BELLECOURT being dead, MOLÉ took the first parts in comedy, with the exception of a few of those in which his predecessor excelled, whose greatest merit, I understand, was an air noble and imposing in the highest degree. As this was MOLÉ's greatest deficiency, he endeavoured to make amends for it by some perfection. He had no occasion to have recourse to art. It was sufficient for him to employ well the gifts lavished on him by nature. Though now verging on seventy, no one expresses love with more eloquence (for sounds too have theirs), or with more charm and fire than MOLÉ. In the fourth act of the Misanthrope, he ravishes and subdues the audience, when, after having overwhelmed Célimène with reproaches, he paints to her the love with which he is inflamed. But this sentiment is not the only one in the expression of which MOLÉ is pre-eminently successful.
In the Philinte de Molière, which also bears the title of La Suite du Misanthrope, and in which FABRE D'EGLANTINE has presented the contrast between an egotist and a man who sacrifices his interest to that of his fellow-creatures, MOLÉ vents all the indignation of virtue with a warmth, a truth, and even a nobleness which at this day belong only to himself. In short, he performs this part, in which the word love is not once mentioned, with a perfection that he maintains from the first line to the last.
In the fifth act of Le Dissipateur (a comedy by DESTOUCHES), when he sees himself forsaken by his companions of pleasure, and thinks he is so by his mistress too, the expression of his grief is so natural, that you imagine you see the tears trickling from his eyes. In moments when he pictures love, his voice, which at times is somewhat harsh, is softened, lowers its key, and (if I may so express myself) goes in search of his heart, in order to draw from it greater flexibility and feeling. The effect which he produces is irresistible and universal. Throughout the house the most profound silence is rigidly, but sympathetically enforced; so great is the apprehension of losing a single monosyllable in these interesting moments, which always appear too short. To this silence succeed shouts of acclamation and bursts of applause. I never knew any performer command the like but Mademoiselle SAINVAL the elder.
In no character which MOLÉ performs, does he ever fail to deserve applause; but there is one, above all, which has infinitely added to his reputation. It is that of the Vieux Célibataire in the comedy of the same name by COLIN D'HARLEVILLE, which he personates with a good humoured frankness, an air of indolence and apathy, and at the same time a grace that will drive to despair any one who shall venture to take up this part after him. On seeing him in it, one can scarcely believe that he is the same man who renders with such warmth and feeling the part of Alceste in the Misanthrope, and in the Suite de Molière; but MOLÉ, imbibing his talent from nature, is diversified like her.
Caressed by the women, associating with the most amiable persons both of the court and the town, and, in short, idolized by the public, till the revolution, no performer led a more agreeable life than MOLÉ. However, he was not proscribed through it, and this was his fault. Not having been imprisoned like the other actors of the old Comédie Française, he had no share in their triumph on their reappearance, and it even required all his talent to maintain his ground; but, as it appears that no serious error could be laid to his charge, and as every thing is forgotten in the progress of events, he resumed part of his ascendency. I shall terminate this article or panegyric, call it which you please, by observing that whenever MOLÉ shall retire from the Théâtre Français, and his age precludes a contrary hope, the best stock-pieces can no longer be acted.[1]
FLEURY. A man can no more be a comedian in spite of Thalia than a poet in spite of Minerva. Of this FLEURY affords a proof. This actor is indebted to the revolution for the reputation he now enjoys; but what is singular, it is not for having shewn himself the friend of that great political convulsion. Nature has done little for him. His appearance is common; his countenance, stern; his voice, hoarse; and his delivery, embarrassed; so much so that he speaks only by splitting his syllables. A stammering lover! MOLÉ, it is true, sometimes indulged in a sort of stammer, but it was suited to the moment, and not when he had to express the ardour of love. A lover, such as is represented to us in all French comedies, is a being highly favoured by Nature, and FLEURY shews him only as much neglected by her. A great deal of assurance and a habit of the stage, a warmth which proceeds from the head only, and a sort of art to disguise his defects, with him supply the place of talent. Although naturally very heavy, he strives to appear light and airy in the parts of petits-maîtres, and his great means of success consist in turning round on his heel. He was calculated for playing grims (which I shall soon explain), and he proves this truth in the little comedy of Les Deux Pages, taken from the life of the king of Prussia, the great Frederic, of whose caricature he is the living model. He wished to play capital parts, the parts of MOLÉ, and he completely failed. He ventured to appear in the Inconstant, in which MOLÉ is captivating, and it was only to his disgrace. Being compelled to relinquish this absurd pretension, he now confines himself to new or secondary parts, in the former of which he has to dread no humiliating comparison, and the latter are not worthy to be mentioned.
Friends within and without the theatre, and the spirit of party, have, however, brought FLEURY into fashion. He will, doubtless, preserve his vogue; for, in Paris, when a man has once got a name, he may dispense with talent:
"_Des réputations; on ne sait pourquoi!"
says GRESSET, the poet, in his comedy of Le Méchant, speaking of those which are acquired in the capital of France.
BAPTISTE the elder. But for the revolution, he too would, in all probability, never have figured on the Théâtre Français. When all privileges were abolished, a theatre was opened in the Rue Culture St. Catherine in Paris, and BAPTISTE was sent for from Rouen to perform the first parts. In Robert Chef des Brigands and La Mère Coupable, two drames, the one almost as full of improbabilities as the other, he had great success; but in Le Glorieux he acquired a reputation almost as gigantic as his stature, and as brilliant as his coat covered with spangles. This was the part in which BELLECOURT excelled, and which had been respected even by MOLÉ. The latter at length appeared in it; but irony, which is the basis of this character, was not his talent: yet MOLÉ having seen the court, and knowing in what manner noblemen conducted themselves, BAPTISTE had an opportunity of correcting himself by him in the part of Le Glorieux.
The Théâtre Français being in want of a performer for such characters, BAPTISTE was called in. Figure to yourself the person of Don Quixote, and you will have an idea of that of this actor, whose countenance, however, is unmeaning, and whose voice seems to issue from the mouth of a speaking-trumpet.
Jeunes premiers, or young lovers, in Comedy.
ST. FAL, DUPONT, DAMAS, and ARMAND.
One might assemble what is best in these four actors, without making one perfect lover. I have already spoken of the first three, who, in comedy, have nearly the same defects as in tragedy. As for the fourth, he is young; but unfortunately for him, he has no other recommendation.
Characters of Grims, or Rôles à manteau.[2]
GRANDMÉNIL and CAUMONT.
GRANDMÉNIL. This performer is, perhaps, the only one who has preserved what the French critics call la tradition, that is, a traditionary knowledge of the old school, or of the style in which players formerly acted, and especially in the time of MOLIÈRE. This would be an advantage for him, but for a defect which it is not in his power to remedy; for what avails justness of diction when a speaker can no longer make himself heard? And this is the case with GRANDMÉNIL. However, I would advise you to see him in the character of the Avare (in MOLIÈRE'S comedy of that name) which suits him perfectly. By placing yourself near the stage, you might lose nothing of the truth and variety of his delivery, as well as of the play of his countenance, which is facilitated by his excessive meagreness, and to which his sharp black eyes give much vivacity.
GRANDMÉNIL is member of the National Institute.
CAUMONT. He possesses that in which his principal in this cast of parts is deficient, and little more. One continually sees the efforts he makes to be comic, which sufficiently announces that he is not naturally so. However, he has a sort of art, which consists in straining his acting a little without overcharging it.
Parts of Valets.
DUGAZON, DAZINCOURT, and LAROCHELLE.
DUGAZON. One may say much good and much ill of this actor, and yet be perfectly correct. He has no small share of warmth and comic humour. He plays sometimes as if by inspiration; but more frequently too he charges his parts immoderately. PRÉVILLE, who is no common authority, said of DUGAZON: "How well he can play, if he is in the humour!" He is but seldom in the humour, and when he is requested not to overcharge his parts, 'tis then that he charges them most. Not that he is a spoiled child of the public; for they even treat him sometimes with severity. True it is that he is reproached for his conduct during the storms of the revolution. Although advanced in years, he became Aide-de-camp to SANTERRE.----SANTERRE! An execrable name, and almost generally execrated! Is then a mixture of horror and ridicule one of the characteristics of the revolution? And must a painful remembrance come to interrupt a recital which ought to recall cheerful ideas only? In his quality of Aide-de-camp to the Commandant of the national guard of Paris, DUGAZON was directed to superintend the interment of the unfortunate Lewis XVI, and in order to consume in an instant the body of that prince, whose pensioner he had been, he caused it to be placed in a bed of quick lime. No doubt, DUGAZON did no more than execute the orders he received; but he was to blame in putting himself in a situation to receive them.
Not to return too abruptly to the tone which suits an article wherein I am speaking of actors playing comic parts, I shall relate a circumstance which had well nigh become tragic, in regard to DUGAZON, and which paints the temper of the time when it took place. Being an author as well as an actor, DUGAZON had written a little comedy, entitled Le Modéré. It was his intention to depress the quality indicated by the title. However, he was thought to have treated his subject ill, and, after all, to have made his modéré an honest man. In consequence of this opinion, at the very moment when he was coming off the stage, after having personated that character in his piece, he was apprehended and taken to prison.
DAZINCOURT. In no respect can the same reproaches be addressed to him as to DUGAZON; but as to what concerns the art, it may be said that if DUGAZON goes beyond the mark, DAZINCOURT falls short of it. PRÉVILLE said of the latter as a comedian: "Leaving pleasantry out of the question, DAZINCOURT is well enough." Nothing can be added to the opinion of that great master.
LAROCHELLE. He has warmth, truth, and much comic humour; but is sometimes a little inclined to charge his parts. He has a good stage face. It appears that he can only perform parts not overlong, as his voice easily becomes hoarse. This is a misfortune both for himself and the public; for he really might make a good comedian.
There are a few secondary actors in the comic line, such as BAPTISTE the younger, who performs in much too silly a manner his parts of simpletons, and one DUBLIN, who is the ostensible courier; not to speak of some others, whose parts are of little importance.
January 22, in continuation,
Principal female Characters, in Comedy.
Mesdemoiselles CONTAT, and MÉZERAY.--Madame TALMA.
Mademoiselle CONTAT. This actress has really brought about a revolution in the theatre. Before her time, the essential requisites for the parts which she performs, were sensibility, decorum, nobleness, and dignity, even in diction, as well as in gestures, and deportment. Those qualities are not incompatible with the grace, the elegance of manners, and the playfulness also required by those characters, the principal object of which is to interest and please, which ought only to touch lightly on comic humour, and not be assimilated to that of chambermaids, as is done by Mademoiselle CONTAT. A great coquette, for instance, like Célimène in the Misanthrope, ought not to be represented as a girl of the town, nor Madame de Clainville, in the pretty little comedy of La Gageure, as a shopkeeper's wife.
The innovation made by Mademoiselle CONTAT was not passed over without remonstrance. Those strict judges, those conservators of rules, those arbiters of taste, in short, who had been long in the habit of frequenting the theatre, protested loudly against this new manner of playing the principal characters. "That is not becoming!" exclaimed they incessantly: which signified "that is not the truth!" But what could the feeble remonstrances of the old against the warm applause of the young?
Mademoiselle CONTAT had a charming person, of which you may still be convinced. She was not then, as she is now, overloaded with embonpoint, and, though rather inclined to stoop, could avail herself of the advantages of an elevated stature. None of the resources of the toilet were neglected by her, and for a long time the most elegant women in Paris took the ton for dress from Mademoiselle CONTAT. Besides, she always had a delicacy of discrimination in her delivery, and a varied sprightliness in the minutiæ of her acting. Her voice, though sometimes rather shrill, is not deficient in agreeableness, but is easily modulated, except when it is necessary for her to express feeling. The inferiority of Mademoiselle CONTAT on this head is particularly remarkable when she plays with MOLÉ. In a very indifferent comedy, called Le Jaloux sans amour, at the conclusion of which the husband entreats his wife to pardon his faults, MOLÉ contrives to find accents so tender, so affecting; he envelops his voice, as it were, with sounds so soft, so mellow, and at the same time so delicate, that the audience, fearing to lose the most trifling intonation, dare not draw their breath. Mademoiselle CONTAT replies, and, although she has to express the same degree of feeling, the charm is broken.
Being aware that the want of nobleness and sensibility was a great obstacle to her success, this actress endeavoured to insure it by performing characters which require not those two qualities. The first she selected for her purpose was Susanne in the Mariage de Figaro. Susanne is an elegant and artful chambermaid; and Mademoiselle CONTAT possessed every requisite for representing well the part. She had resigned the principal character in the piece to Mademoiselle SAINVAL the younger, an actress who was celebrated in tragedy, but had never before appeared in comedy. On this occasion, I saw Mademoiselle SAINVAL play that ungracious part with a truth, a grace, a nobleness, a dignity, a perfection in short, of which no idea had yet been entertained in Paris.
Another part in which Mademoiselle CONTAT also rendered herself famous, is that of Madame Evrard, in the Vieux Célibataire. --Madame Evrard is an imperious, cunning, and roguish housekeeper; and this actress has no difficulty in seizing the ton suitable to such a character. This could not be done by one habituated to a more noble manner. Mademoiselle CONTAT has not followed the impulse of Nature, who intended her for the characters of soubrettes; but, when she made her début, there were in that cast of parts three or four women not deficient in merit, and it would have taken her a long time to make her way through them.
The parts which Mademoiselle CONTAT plays at present with the greatest success are those in the pieces of MARIVAUX, which all bear a strong resemblance, and the nature of which she alters; for it is also one of her defects to change always the character drawn by the author. The reputation enjoyed by this actress is prodigious; and such a critique as the one I am now writing would raise in Paris a general clamour. Her defects, it is true, are less prominent at this day, when hereditary rank is annihilated; and merit, more than manners, raises men to the highest stations. Besides, it is a presumption inherent in the Parisians to believe that they never can be mistaken. To reason with them on taste is useless; it is impossible to compel them to retract when they have once said "Cela est charmant."
Before I take leave of Mademoiselle CONTAT, I shall observe that there exists in the Théâtre Français a little league, of which she is the head. Besides herself, it is composed of Mademoiselle DEVIENNE, DAZINCOURT, and FLEURY. I am confidently assured that the choice and reception of pieces, and the début of performers depend entirely on them. As none of them possess all the requisites for their several casts of parts, they take care to play no other than pieces of an equivocal kind, in which neither bon ton, nor vis comica is to be found. They avoid, above all, those of MOLIÈRE and REGNARD, and are extremely fond of the comedies of MARIVAUX, in which masters and lackies express themselves and act much alike. The unison is then perfect, and some people call this de l'ensemble, as if any could result from such a confusion of parts of an opposite nature. As for new pieces, the members of the league must have nothing but papillotage (as the French call it), interspersed with allusions to their own talent, which the public never fail to applaud. When an author has inserted such compliments in his piece, he is sure of its being received, but not always of its being successful; for when the ground is bad, the tissue is good for nothing.
Mademoiselle MÉZERAY. She is of the school of Mademoiselle CONTAT, whence have issued only feeble pupils. But she is very pretty, and has the finest eyes imaginable. She plays the parts of young coquettes, in which her principal dares no longer appear. Without being vulgar in her manner, one cannot say that she has dignity. As for sensibility, she expresses it still less than Mademoiselle CONTAT. However, the absence of this sentiment is a defect which is said to be now common among the French. Indeed, if it be true that they are fickle, and this few will deny, the feeling they possess cannot be lasting.
Madame TALMA. I have already spoken of her merits as a comic actress, when I mentioned her as a tragedian.
Parts of young Lovers.
Mesdemoiselles MARS, BOURGOIN, and GROS.
Mademoiselle MARS. She delivers in an ingenuous manner innocent parts, and those of lovers. She has modest graces, an interesting countenance, and appears exceedingly handsome on the stage. But she will never be a true actress.
Mademoiselle BOURGOIN. She has some disposition for comedy, which she neglects, and has none for tragedy, in which she is ambitious to figure. I have already alluded to her beauty, which is that of a pretty grisette.
Mademoiselle GROS. She is the pupil of DUGAZON, and made her début in tragedy. The newspaper-writers transformed her into Melpomene, yet so rapid was her decline, that presently she was scarcely more than a waiting woman to Thalia.
Characters, or foolish Mothers.
Mesdemoiselles LACHAISSAIGNE and THÉNARD.
The latter of these titles explains the former. In fact, this cast of parts consists of characters, that is, foolish or crabbed old women, antiquated dowagers in love, &c. Commonly, these parts are taken up by actresses grown too old for playing soubrettes; but to perform them well, requires no trifling share of comic humour; for, in general, they are charged with it. At the present day, this department may be considered as vacant. Mademoiselle LACHAISSAIGNE, who is at the head of it, is very old, and never had the requisites for performing in it to advantage. Mademoiselle THÉNARD begins to double her in this line of acting, but in a manner neither more sprightly nor more captivating.
Parts of Soubrettes or Chambermaids.
Mesdemoiselles DEVIENNE and DESBROSSES.
Mademoiselle DEVIENNE. If Mademoiselle CONTAT changes the principal characters in comedy into those of chambermaids, Mademoiselle DEVIENNE does the contrary, and from the same motive, namely, because she is deficient in the requisites for her cast of parts, such as warmth, comic truth, and vivacity. Yet, while she assumes the airs of a fine lady, she takes care to dwell on the slightest équivoque; so that what would be no more than gay in the mouth of another woman, in hers becomes indecent. As she is a mannerist in her acting, some think it perfect, and they say too that she is charming. However, she must have been very handsome.
Mademoiselle DESBROSSES. The public say nothing of her, and I think this is all she can wish for.
* * * * *
I have now passed in review before you those who are charged to display to advantage the dramatic riches bequeathed to the French nation by CORNEILLE, RACINE, MOLIÈRE, CRÉBILLON, VOLTAIRE, REGNARD, &c. &c. &c. If it be impossible to squander them, at least they may at present be considered as no more than a buried treasure. Although the chefs d'oeuvre of those masters of the stage are still frequently represented, and the public even appear to see them with greater pleasure than new pieces, they no longer communicate that electric fire which inflames genius, and (if I may use the expression) renders it productive. A great man can, it is true, create every thing himself; but there are minds which require an impulse to be set in motion. Without a CORNEILLE, perhaps the French nation would not have had a RACINE.
Formerly, people went to the Théâtre Français in order to hear, as it were, a continual course of eloquence, elocution, and pronunciation. It even had the advantage over the pulpit and the bar, where vivacity of expression was prohibited or restricted. Many a sacred or profane orator came hither, either privately or publicly, to study the art by which great actors, at pleasure, worked on the feelings of the audience, and charmed their very soul. It was, above all, at the Théâtre Français that foreigners might have learned to pronounce well the French language. The audience shuddered at the smallest fault of pronunciation committed by a performer, and a thousand voices instantly corrected him. At the present day, the comedians insist that it belongs to them alone to form rules on this point, and they now and then seem to vie with each other in despising those already established. The audience being perhaps too indulgent, they stand uncorrected.
Whether or not the Théâtre Français will recover its former fame, is a question which Time alone can determine. Undoubtedly, many persons of a true taste and an experienced ear have disappeared, and no one now seems inclined to say to the performers: "That is the point which you must attain, and at which you must stop, if you wish not to appear deficient, or to overact your part." But the fact is, they are without a good model, and the spectators, in general, are strangers to the _minutiæ/i> of dramatic excellence. In tragedy, indeed, I am inclined to think that there never existed at the Théâtre Français such a deficiency of superior talents. When LEKAIN rose into fame, there were not, I have been told, any male performers who went as far as himself, though several possessed separately the qualifications necessary for that line. However, there was Mademoiselle DUMESNIL, a pupil of nature, from whom he might learn to express all the passions; while from Mademoiselle CLAIRON he might snatch all the secrets of art.
As for Comedy, it is almost in as desperate a situation. The ton of society and that of comedians may have a reciprocal influence, and the revolution having tended to degrade the performance of the latter, the consequences may recoil on the former. But here I must stop.--I shall only add that it is not to the revolution that the decline of the art, either in tragedy or comedy, is to be imputed. It is, I understand, owing to intrigue, which has, for a long time past, introduced pitiful performers on the stage of the Théâtre Français, and to a multiplicity of other causes which it would be too tedious to discuss, or even to mention. Notwithstanding the encomiums daily lavished on the performers by the venal pen of newspaper writers, the truth is well known here on this subject. Endeavours are made by the government to repair the mischief by forming pupils; but how are they to be formed without good masters or good models?
[Footnote 1: It must grieve every admirer of worth and talent to hear that MOLÉ is now no more. Not long since he paid the debt of nature. As an actor, it is more than probable that "we ne'er shall look on his like again."]
[Footnote 2: The word Grim, in French theatrical language, is probably derived from grimace, and the expression of Rôles à manteau arises from the personages which they represent being old men, who generally appear on the stage with a cloak.]
Letter LVI
Paris, January 24, 1802.
Among the customs introduced here since the revolution, that of women appearing in public in male attire is very prevalent. The more the Police endeavours to put a stop to this extravagant whim, the more some females seek excuses for persisting in it: the one makes a pretext of business which obliges her to travel frequently, and thinks she is authorized to wear men's clothes as being more convenient on a journey; another, of truly-elegant form, dresses herself in this manner, because she wishes to attract more notice by singularity, without reflecting that, in laying aside her proper garb, she loses those feminine graces, the all-seductive accompaniments of beauty. Formerly, indeed, nothing could tend more to disguise the real shape of a woman than the
COSTUME OF THE FRENCH LADIES.
A head-dress, rising upwards of half a yard in height, seemed to place her face near the middle of her body; her stomach was compressed into a stiff case of whalebone, which checked respiration, and deprived her almost of the power of eating; while a pair of cumbersome hoops, placed on her hips, gave to her petticoats the amplitude of a small elliptical, inflated balloon. Under these strange accoutrements, it would, at first sight, almost have puzzled BUFFON himself to decide in what species such a female animal should be classed. However, this is no longer an enigma.
With the parade of a court, all etiquette of dress disappeared. Divested of their uncouth and unbecoming habiliments, the women presently adopted a style of toilet not only more advantageous to the display of their charms, but also more analogous to modern manners.
No sooner was France proclaimed a republic, than the annals of republican antiquity were ransacked for models of female attire: the Roman tunic and Greek cothurnus soon adorned the shoulders of the Parisian élégantes; and every antique statue or picture, relating to those periods of history, was, in some shape or another, rendered tributary to the ornament of their person.
This revolution in their dress has evidently tended to strengthen their constitution, and give them a pectoral embonpoint, very agreeable, no doubt, to the amateur of female proportion, but the too open exposure of which cannot, in a moral point of view, be altogether approved. These treasures are, in consequence, now as plentiful as they were before uncommon. You can scarcely move a step in Paris without seeing something of this kind to exercise your admiration. Many of those domains of love, which, under the old-fashioned dress, would have been considered as a flat country, now present, through a transparent crape, the perfect rotundity of two sweetly-rising hillocks. As prisoners, wan and disfigured by confinement, recover their health and fulness on being restored to liberty, so has the bosom of the Parisian belles, released from the busk and corset, experienced a salutary expansion.
In a political light, this must afford no small satisfaction to him who takes an interest in the physical improvement of the human species, as it tends to qualify them better for that maternal office, dictated by Nature, and which, in this country, has too long and too frequently been intrusted to the uncertain discharge of a mercenary hireling. Another advantage too arises from the established fashion. Thanks to the ease of their dress, the French ladies can now satisfy all the capacity of their appetite. Nothing prevents the stomach from performing its functions; nothing paralyzes the spring of that essential organ. Nor, indeed, can they be reproached with fastidiousness on that score. From the soup to the desert, they are not one moment idle: they eat of every thing on the table, and drink in due proportion. Not that I would by any means insinuate that they drink more than is necessary or proper. On the contrary, no women on earth are more temperate, in this respect, than the French; they, for the most part, mix water even with their weakest wine; but they also swallow two or three glasses of vin de dessert, without making an affected grimace, and what is better, they eat at this rate without any ill consequence, Now, a good appetite and good digestion must strengthen health, and, in general, tend to produce pectoral embonpoint.
In this capital, you no longer find among the fair sex those over-delicate constitutions, whose artificial existence could be maintained only by salts, essences, and distilled waters. Charms as fresh as those of Hebe, beauties which might rival the feminine softness of those of Venus, while they bespeak the vigour of Diana, and the bloom of Hygëia, are the advantages which distinguish many of the Parisian belles of the present day, and for which they are, in a great measure, indebted to the freedom they enjoy under the antique costume.
In no part of the world, perhaps, do women pay a more rigid attention to cleanliness in their person than in Paris. The frequent use of the tepid bath, and of every thing tending to preserve the beauty of their fine forms, employ their constant solicitude. So much care is not thrown away. No where, I believe, are women now to be seen more uniformly healthy, no where do they possess more the art of assisting nature; no where, in a word, are they better skilled in concealing and repairing the ravages of Time, not so much by the use of cosmetics, as by the tasteful manner in which they vary the decoration of their person.
Letter LVII
Paris, January 25, 1802.
I have already observed that the general effervescence to which the revolution gave birth, soon extended to the seminaries of learning. The alarm-bell resounded even in the most silent of those retreats. Bands of insurgents, intermixed with women, children, and men of every condition, came each moment to interrupt the studies, and, forcing the students to range themselves under their filthy banner, presented to them the spectacle of every excess. It required not all this violence to disorganize institutions already become antiquated,[1] and few of which any longer enjoyed much consideration in the public opinion. The colleges and universities were deserted, and their exercises ceased. Not long after, they were suppressed. The only establishment of this description which has survived the storms of the revolution, and which is no less important from its utility than extensive in its object, is the
COLLÈGE DE FRANCE.
It neither owed this exemption to its ancient celebrity, nor to the talents of its professors; but having no rich collections which could attract notice, no particular estates which could tempt cupidity, it was merely forgotten by the revolutionists, and their ignorance insured its preservation.
The Collège de France is, at the present day, in this country, and perhaps in the rest of Europe, the only establishment where every branch of human knowledge is taught in its fullest extent. The object of this institution is to spread the most elevated notions of the sciences, to maintain and pave the way to the progress of literature, either by preserving the taste and purity of the ancient authors, or by exhibiting the order, lustre, and richness of the modern. Its duty is to be continually at the head of all the establishments of public instruction, in order to guide them, lead them on, and, as it were, light them with the torch of knowledge.
This college, which is situated in the Place de Cambray, Rue St. Jacques, was founded by Francis I. That monarch, distinguished from all cotemporaries by his genius, amiableness, and magnificence, saw in literature the source of the glory of princes, and of the civilization of the people. He loved and honoured it, not only in the writings of the learned, but in the learned themselves, whom he called about his person, at the same time loading them with encouragement and favours. It is singular that those times, so rude in many respects, were, nevertheless, productive of sentiments the most delicate and noble.
Truth never shuns princes who welcome it. Francis I was not suffered to remain ignorant of the deplorable state in which literature then was in France, and, though very young, he disdained not this information. Nothing, in fact, could approach nearer to barbarism. The impulse Charlemagne had given to study was checked. The torches he had lighted were on the point of being extinguished. That famous university which he had created had fallen into decline. A prey to all the cavils of pedantry, it substituted dispute and quibble to true philosophy.
Nothing was any longer talked of but the five universals, substance, and accident. All the fury of argument was manifested to know whether those were simple figures, or beings really existing, all things equally useful to the revival of knowledge and the happiness of mankind. The Hebrew and Greek tongues were scarcely, if at all, known; the living languages, little cultivated; Latin itself, then almost common, was taught in the most rude and imperfect manner. In short, the most learned body of the State had fallen into the most profound ignorance: a striking example of the necessity of renewing continually and maintaining the life of those bodies employed in instruction.
I am not speaking of the sciences, then entirely unknown. The languages were every thing at this period, on account of their connexion with religion.
The small number of men of merit whom the bad taste of the age had not reached, were striving to restore to literature its lustre, and to men's minds their true direction; but, in order to revive the taste for good studies, it was necessary to create a new establishment for public instruction, which should be sufficiently extensive for acquiring a great influence. It was necessary to assemble men the most celebrated for their talent and reputation, in order that, being thus placed in full view, and presented to public attention, they might rectify the minds of men by their authority, as well as enlighten them by their knowledge.
This undertaking, difficult in itself, became much less so through the circumstances which then existed. Taste seemed to have taken refuge at the court, and the king easily yielded to the reasons of the learned who approached him; but no one took a greater share in this project than the celebrated Erasmus. Remote from it as he was, he accelerated its execution by the disinterested praises which he lavished on it. The king sent to invite him, in the most flattering terms, to take the direction of it and to settle in France; but Erasmus, jealous of liberty, retained besides by the gratitude he owed to Charles V, and by the care he bestowed on the College of Louvain which he had founded, refused this task, equally honourable and useful. He manifested not the less, in his letters, the joy he felt to see studies re-established by the only means which could reanimate them. It is pleasing to the true friends of the sciences to find among those who cultivate them similar traits of generosity and nobleness.
At length peace having restored to France repose and the means of repairing her losses, the king gave himself up without reserve to the desire he had of making the sciences flourish, and realized the grand project of public instruction which had for a long time occupied his mind. The new college took the name of Collège Royal. It had professors for the Hebrew and Greek tongues, and some even for the mathematics, philosophy, medicine, and the living languages.
The formation of the Collège Royal gave great displeasure to the University. After having held so long without a rival the sceptre of the sciences and literature, it was grating to its members to relinquish it. They could ill bear to see set above it an establishment evidently intended to direct and guide it. Self-love offended seldom forgives, especially when it is animated by the esprit de corps. The University depreciated the new college, and endeavoured to fetter it in a thousand ways. At last, those dark intrigues being constantly smothered by the applause which the professors received, the University finished by bringing them before a court of justice. From, envy to persecution there is but one step, and that step was soon taken.
Religion served as a pretext and a cloak for this accusation. It was affirmed that the new professors could not, without danger to the faith, explain the Hebrew and Greek tongues, if they had not been presented to the University to be examined by it, and received from it their mission. To this it was answered, that if the theologians of the University understood Greek and Hebrew, it must be easy for them to denounce the passages in which the new professors had erred, and that if, on the contrary, they did not understand those languages, they ought not to pretend to judge those who taught them. After long debates, things were left in the state in which they were before the trial. Each party continued quietly its lessons, and, as it almost always happens in such cases, reason ended by having its due weight: true it is that it was then supported by royal authority.
The Collège de France has not since ceased to make an increasing progress. It even had the valuable advantage of reforming itself successively, and of following new ideas, the necessary result of its constitution and of the lustre that has always surrounded it; two causes which have occasioned its chairs to be sought by the most celebrated men of every description. It is this successive reform which constitutes the distinctive character of the Collège de France, and which has always enabled it to fulfil its real object.
Thus, to quote but one example. The chair of Greek philosophy was, in the beginning, intended to make known the writings of the ancient philosophers on the nature of things and the organization of the universe. These were, at that time, the only repositories of human knowledge for mathematics and physics; but, in proportion as the sciences, more advanced, substituted rational theories for hazardous conjectures, the modern discoveries of astronomy were taught, together with the writings of the ancients. The object of this chair, which at the present day bears the name of general physics and mathematics, is to disseminate the most elevated notions of mechanics and the theory of the system of the world. The works taught by its occupier are analytical mechanics and celestial mechanics, that is, those works which form the limits of our knowledge for mathematical analysis, and consequently those of which it is most important to increase the very small number of readers.
By a consequence of that spirit of amelioration which animates this College, some time before the revolution, a chair and a cabinet of experimental physics were added to it.
As for the natural sciences, which are taught here with much depth and detail in several establishments, they have, in the Collège de France, a sort of regulator which directs them, as it were, by their generalities. It is, in fact, to this only that an establishment which, by its nature, contains no collection, ought to attach itself, and the philosophy of the sciences, the result and completion of their study, here constitutes the object of all the lectures.
Thus the improvements which the sciences have successively experienced, have always been spread by the instruction of the Collège Royal; and among the professors who have occupied its chairs, none can be quoted who have been strangers to their progress.
The revolution, which overthrew in France the ancient universities, suspended for some time the exercises of this establishment; but, under the name of Collège de France, it has since resumed a new lustre. It then found itself compelled to new efforts, in order to maintain its place among the scientific institutions, which have emulously risen in every branch of human knowledge. Nevertheless, those different sciences, even natural history, and the curative art, taught with so much perfection in private establishments, have hence derived great advantages, and here it is that public instruction comes at once to be resumed, investigated, and extended.
The present government appears to be perfectly sensible of the importance of such an establishment. The enlightened men, the celebrated savans, who approach it, have pointed out in the Collège de France a normal school, completely formed, and which unites to the extent of its object the ever-powerful ascendant of seniority. The similarity between the circumstances in which this institution is at the present day and those when it was founded, affords the most certain hope of its progress being maintained and accelerated.
This is what appears to me the most interesting in the history of this ancient college. I say nothing of its present professors; their zeal is proved by their assiduous and uninterrupted lessons; their merit is before the judgment of the public; and as for their names, these are indifferent to the results of their labours. If any other motive than that of the interest of the sciences were blended with the information I now communicate, I should not think that, in this letter, I was fulfilling the object of your wishes.
P.S. It may not be useless to mention that no students are attached to the Collège de France. The lectures are public; and every one who is desirous of improving his mind in any branch of science, may attend them free of expense or trouble. It is impossible for the friend of learning to withhold his admiration from so noble an institution. What, in fact, can be more liberal than this gratuitous diffusion of knowledge?
[Footnote 1: Whatever sentiment may have been preserved respecting the ancient University of Paris, every impartial person must acknowledge that it was several centuries in arrear in regard to every thing which concerns the Arts and Sciences. Peripatetic, when the learned had, with Descartes, renounced the philosophy of Aristotle, it became Cartesian, when they were Newtonians. Such is the too general custom of bodies, engaged in instruction, who make no discoveries. Invested at their formation with great influence over scientific opinions, because they are composed of the best informed men of the day, they wish constantly to preserve those advantages. They with reluctance suffer that there should be formed, elsewhere than in their own bosom, new opinions which might balance theirs; and if the progress of the sciences at last obliges them to abandon their doctrine, they never adopt the most modern theories, were they, in other respects, preferable; but embrace those which existed for some time anterior to them, and which they themselves had before combated. This inertness of bodies, employed in instruction, is an unavoidable evil; because it is the effect of self-love, the most invariable of passions.]
Letter LVIII
Paris, January 17, 1802.
If we do not consider the Opera Buffa as a national theatre, then the next in rank, after the Grand French Opera and the Théâtre Français, is the
THÉÂTRE DE L'OPÉRA COMIQUE.
This house, which is situated in the Rue Feydeau, near the Rue de la Loi, was opened for the first time in January 1791. The entrance to it is by a circular vestibule, externally decorated with caryatides, and sufficiently spacious for one carriage to enter while another drives off by an adjoining outlet. At the end of this vestibule is a long gallery, bordered by shops on both sides, which forms a second entrance by the Rue Filles St. Thomas.
The interior form of this theatre is a semi-circle, extended in a right line at its extremities, which places the orchestra in a central position, and renders the house one of the fittest in Paris for a concert. Two rows of Gothic pillars, one above the other, occupy nearly all its height; and though it contains eight tiers of boxes, five only are in sight. The same distribution repeated in regard to the stage-boxes, presents a very projecting pavilion, which seems to support a large triumphal arch. However grand this style of architecture may be in appearance, in effect it renders the seats very inconvenient to two-thirds of the spectators. The ornaments consist of a strange mixture of the Greek, Gothic, and Oriental. The house is said to contain two thousand persons.
In the beginning, this theatre united the performers of the original Opéra Buffa and some of those belonging to the old French Comic Opera, who played alternately. The former retiring from Paris in 1792, the latter for some time attracted full houses by the excellence of their style of singing, tasteful decorations, and one of the best composed orchestras in the capital.
Since then, it has experienced the changes and vicissitudes attendant on the revolution. At present, the company is composed of a selection from the performers of the Opéra Comique of the Théâtre Favart (formerly known by the name of Théâtre Italien), and those of the lyric theatre of which I am now speaking. This junction has not long been effected. Previously to its taking place, the Comédie Italienne, where French comic operas only were represented, was still constituted as it was under the old régime, of which it was remarked as being the sole remnant.
Formerly, the French Comic Opera was very rich in stock-pieces, chiefly written by FAVART, SÉDAINE, MARMONTEL, HÈLE,[1] MONVEL, MARSOLIER, HOFFMAN, and others. Their productions were set to music by GRÉTRY, MONSIGNY, PHILIDOR, DÉSAÏDES, DALEYRAC, &c. These pieces are now seldom played, the music of them being antiquated; though for energy and truth of expression some of it surpasses that of many of the more modern compositions. The new authors are little known. The composers of the music are MÉHUL, DALEYRAC before-mentioned, BOYELDIEU, TARCHI, &c. The modern pieces the most in vogue and most attractive are Le Prisonnier, l'Opéra Comique, a piece so called, Le Calife de Bagdad, Maison à vendre, D'Auberge en Auberge, and a few others of the same description. All these are really pleasing comedies.
The Théâtre Feydeau itself was also in possession of a great number of stock-pieces, among which were some in the style of the Grand French Opera. A considerable change seems to have taken place, as the latter are now no longer represented.
In surveying the Opéra Comique, one would imagine that, in lieu of one company, two separate ones had been formed to play in the same theatre. The former is the weaker in number, but the stronger in talent. The latter, though weaker, has some good performers, in the long list of those of whom it is composed; but, in general, they are either no longer in their pristine lustre, or have not yet attained a competent degree of perfection.
Seldom are the two companies mixed. Pieces in the style of the modern Opéra Comique, in which easy mirth is replaced by quaint jests, are played exclusively by the former. They draw crowded houses, as the public are extremely partial to them. Lyric drames are abandoned to the latter, and the old stock-pieces to such of the performers as choose to act in them for a small number of spectators who are so obliging as to enter the house with orders or free admission. OF all the repositories of old pieces that of the Comédie Italienne is the one which is the most entirely neglected. This is rather the fault of the actors than that of the public. There are many old productions which would attract a crowd, were the best performers to play them; but who likes to pay for seeing a master-piece murdered? --We now come to speak of the qualifications of these performers.
Principal Characters and parts of Lovers.
Counter-Tenors.
ELLEVIOU, GAVAUDAN, PHILIPPE, and GAVEAUX.
ELLEVIOU. He is the first singer at the Opéra Comique. Nor will this opinion be contradicted by any of the elegant and pretty women who, slaves to the custom of shewing themselves at the first representation of a new piece, never begin to applaud till ELLEVIOU makes his appearance.
This performer is, in fact, gifted with a handsome person, an easy manner, an expressive countenance, and a voice, which, when he modulates it, is charming. His delivery is tolerably good, and in some parts, he is not deficient in warmth and feeling. As a singer, ELLEVIOU leaves behind all those destined to second him. After having begun by singing bass, he has taken the parts of counter-tenor, for which, however, his voice is not suited, but he makes up for this deficiency by a very flexible tenor. He displays much art and a very modern taste. His method too is good; he makes no improper use of his facility by lavishing graces, but his manner is too uniform. This is the greatest objection that can be made to him, in the double capacity of singer and comedian.
GAVAUDAN. This young actor, with a well-proportioned stature and a very agreeable countenance, ranks, at the Opéra Comique, next in merit to ELLEVIOU. His voice, as a counter-tenor, is not very brilliant, nor his means extensive; but his taste is good, and his method that of the modern school. As a player, he has a certain repution in lyric drames, and especially in those melancholy parts, the characteristic of which is a concentrated passion. He imitates TALMA, and, like him, "outsteps the modesty of Nature."
PHILIPPE. His reputation was begun by the advantages of his person, and he consolidated it by his performance in the line of knight-errantry. Richard, coeur de lion, was the part which secured him the public favour. His voice is still an agreeable counter-tenor; but he declines through age. As an actor, he is deficient in nobleness, and his gestures are not dignified; but, being used to the stage, and possessing some feeling, he often produces happy effects.
GAVEAUX. He has been a good singer in his youth, and is a very agreeable composer. He always acquits himself of any part he undertakes, if not in a brilliant manner, at least with credit. Two of his musical productions are stock-pieces, and well worth seeing. L'Amour Filial is a happy imitation of the Italian school, and Sophie et Moncars is always heard with pleasure.
Characters of Fathers, Valets, or Comic Parts.
Bass-voices.
CHENARD, MARTIN, RÉZICOURT, JULIET, and MOREAU.
CHENARD. Owing to an advantageous person, this actor once stood as high in the favour of the ladies as ELLEVIOU does at present. He still possesses a fine voice, as a bass, but it is not very flexible. In the part of Monsieur de la France, in l'Épreuve Villageoise, he established his fame as a singer; yet his style is not sufficiently modelled after the modern taste, which is the Italian. As an actor, he is very useful; but, having always been treated by the public like a spoiled child, he is too apt to introduce his own sallies into his parts, which he sometimes charges with vulgarisms of the lowest description.
MARTIN. In the parts of valets, MARTIN cannot be better placed than near ELLEVIOU, whom he seconds with skill and taste. This has led the composers here to an innovation. Formerly, duets in the graceful style between men were seldom heard; but the voices of ELLEVIOU and MARTIN being perfectly adapted to each other, almost all the composers have written for them duets in which the cantabile prevails, and concerted cadences are very conspicuous. This, I understand, is unprecedented in Paris.
MARTIN made his début in 1783 at the Théâtre de Monsieur in the company of Italian buffoons. In this school he acquired that taste which he has since propagated with zeal, if not with success. At the present day, he is accused of loading his singing with superfluous embellishments, or of placing them without judgment in passages or situations where they are ill-suited. However, in morceaux d'ensemble he is quite at home, and, of course, shews himself to great advantage. As an actor, he is by no means remarkable, though he sometimes displays intelligence.
RÉZICOURT. He may justly be called a good comedian, without examining his merits as a singer.
JULIET. In the newspapers, this performer is called inimitable. His manner is his own; yet, perhaps, it would be very dangerous to advise any one to imitate it. He is not deficient in intelligence, and has the habit of the stage; but his first quality is to be extremely natural, particularly in the parts of Peasants, which he performs with much truth. He seems to be born a player, and though he is not a musician, he always sings in tune and in time.
MOREAU. An agreeable person, open countenance, animation, an ingenuous manner, and an unerring memory. He is very well placed in young Peasants, such as Le Bon André and Lubin of FAVART, as well as in the parts of Valets.
Mixed characters of every sort.--Tenors.
SOLIÉ, and ST. AUBIN.
SOLIÉ. He first appeared in the parts of young lovers with a tall stature and a handsome face, but neither of them being fashioned for such characters, he met with no applause. His voice was not very brilliant, but his method of singing was replete with grace and taste. For this, however, he obtained no credit; the Parisian public not being yet accustomed to the modern or Italian style. CLAIRVAL, the first singer at the old Opéra Comique, happening to be taken suddenly ill one night, SOLIÉ undertook his part at a moment's warning. Success crowned his temerity, and from that moment his merit was appreciated. His best character is Micheli in Les deux Savoyards, in which he established his reputation. In the pieces of which MÉHUL has composed the music, he shines by the finished manner in which he executes it; the cantabile is his fort. As an actor, his declamation is not natural, and his deportment is too much that of a mannerist. However, these defects are compensated by his singing. To the music of others, he does every justice, and that which he composes himself is extremely agreeable.
ST. AUBIN. This performer once had a good voice as a counter-tenor; but as he now plays no other than secondary parts, one might imagine that he is retained at the theatre only in consideration of his wife's talents.
Caricatures and Simpletons.
DOZAINVILLE, and LESAGE.
DOZAINVILLE. The person of this actor is very favourable for caricatures and the characters of simpletons, which he fills. The meagreness of his countenance renders it very flexible; but not unfrequently he carries this flexibility to grimace. As a singer, he must not be mentioned.
LESAGE. He is a musician, but has little voice. He performs the parts of simple peasants in a natural manner, but with too much uniformity. This is is a general defect attached to those characters.--Let me next introduce the female performers.
First female Singers and Parts of Lovers.
Mesdames ST. AUBIN, SCIO, LESAGE, CRÉTU, PHILIS the elder, GAVAUDAN, and PINGENET.
Madame ST. AUBIN. She is a capital actress, though chiefly in the parts of young girls; yet she is the main pillar of the Opéra Comique. She never has been handsome, at least when closely viewed, and is now on the wane, being turned of forty-five; but her graceful little figure and delicate features make her appear pretty on the stage. Neatness and naïveté characterise her acting. She has scarcely any voice, but no other songs than romances or ballads are assigned to her. She formerly played at the Grand French Opera, where she was applauded in noble and impassioned parts, though they are not, in general, suited to her manner. But an actress, high in favour with the public, is always applauded in whatever character she appears. The pieces in which Madame ST. AUBIN excels are Le Prisonnier, Adolphe et Clara, and L'Opéra Comique, which is the title of a piece, as I have already mentioned.
Madame SCIO. Although she is said not to be well versed in music, she has a very extensive and powerful voice, but its tones have little variety. As an actress, she is very indifferent. Without being mean, she has no nobleness of manner. Like almost all the performers belonging to the Opéra Comique, she delivers ill the dialogue, or such sentences as are not set to music. As she frequently strains her acting, persons deficient in taste are pleased to bestow on her the epithet of great as an actress. However, she played Médée in a lyric tragedy of that name; but such a Medea was never seen! As a singer, Madame Scio is a valuable acquisition to this theatre. In point of person, she is neither ordinary nor handsome.
Mademoiselle LESAGE. Her singing is chaste, but destitute of that musical energy which distinguishes great singers. She plays les ingénuités or innocent characters; but is rather a mannerist, instead of being childish. She then employs a false voice, not at all suited to this line of acting, in which every thing should be natural.
Madame CRÉTU. This actress came to Paris from Bourdeaux, preceded by a great reputation. She has been handsome: a clear voice, a good method of singing, a becoming manner of acting, insured her success. She is very useful at this theatre, in pieces where the vis comica does not predominate.
Mademoiselle PHILIS the elder. This is a pretty pupil of the famous GARAT. She has a clear pipe, a charming countenance, a quick eye, an agreeable person, and some taste. She possesses as much merit as an actress as a singer.[2]
Madame GAVAUDAN. She is admired for her pretty person, pretty voice, and pretty carriage. No wonder then that she has greatly contributed to the success of the little pieces in the style of Vaudeville, which have been performed at this theatre.
Mesdemoiselles PINGENET. These two sisters are nothing as actresses; but seem to aspire to the title of singers, especially the elder, who begins to distinguish herself.
Noble Mothers and Duennas.
Mesdames DUGAZON, PHILIPPE, and GONTHIER.
Madame DUGAZON. Twenty years ago she enjoyed a great name, for which she was indebted to the bad taste that then prevailed. With large prominent eyes, and a broad flat nose, she could not be really handsome; but she had a very animated countenance. In lyric drames, she personated country-girls, chambermaids, and princesses. In the first-named cast of parts, she had an ingenuous, open, but rustic manner. She played chambermaids in a style bordering on effrontery. Lastly, she represented princesses, but without any dignity, and also women bereft of their reason. The part in which she had the most vogue was that of Nina in La Folle par amour. Her madness, however, appeared not to be occasioned by the sensibility of her heart. It was too much inclined to the sentimental cast of Sterne's Maria.
Madame DUGAZON, who ought to have been in possession of a considerable fortune, from the vast sums of money lavished on her by Englishmen, is at this day reduced to perform the parts of mothers, in which she acquits herself so as to deserve neither praise nor censure.
Madame PHILIPPE. Under the name of DESFORGES, she shone formerly in the part of Marguerite in Richard, coeur de lion. Without being a superior singer, she executes her songs with feeling.
Madame GONTHIER. This actress still enjoys the benefit of her former reputation. She is excellent in a cast of parts become hacknied on the stage; namely, gossips and nurses.
I have said nothing of the doubles or duplicates of all these ladies, as they are, in general, bad copies of the originals.
The choruses of the Opéra Comique are not very numerous, and have not the strength and correctness which distinguish those of the Grand French Opera. Nor could this be expected. The orchestra has been lately recomposed, and at present consists of a selection of excellent performers. The scenery, decorations, and dresses are deserving of commendation.
[Footnote 1: Or HALE, an Englishman, who wrote Le Jugement de Midas, l'Amant Jaloux, and Les Évenemens Imprevus, pretty lyric comedies, especially the last. Notwithstanding the success of his pieces, this author is said to have died in the greatest distress.]
[Footnote 2: Not long since she set off for Russia, without apprizing any one of her intention.]
[Footnote 3: The commissioner, appointed by the government to superintend the proceedings of this theatre, has since been replaced by a Prefect of the Palace, whose authority is much the same as that exercised when each of the principal theatres in Paris was under the inspection of a Lord of the Bedchamber.]
Letter LIX
Paris, January 29, 1802.
Whenever the pen of an impartial writer shall trace the history of the French revolution, through all its accompanying vicissitudes, it will be seen that this country owed its salvation to the savans or men of science. The arts and sciences, which were revived by their zeal and courage, united with unceasing activity to pave the way to victories abroad, and repair mischiefs at home. Nor can it be denied, that every thing which genius, labour, and perseverance could create, in point of resources, was employed in such a manner that France was enabled, by land, to make head against almost all Europe, and supply her own wants, as long as the war lasted.
The savans who had effected such great things, for some time enjoyed unlimited influence. It was well known that to them the Republic was indebted for its safety and very existence. They availed themselves of this favourable moment for insuring to France that superiority of knowledge which had caused her to triumph over her enemies. Such was the origin of the
POLYTECHNIC SCHOOL.
This establishment had a triple object; namely, to form engineers for the different services; to spread in civil society enlightened men, and to excite talents which might promote the sciences. Nothing was neglected that could tend to the accomplishment of a destination so important.
It was, in fact, time to reorganize the instruction of corps destined for public services, the greater part of which were wholly deficient in this respect. Some of them, it is true, had particular schools; but instruction there was feeble and incomplete. That for military engineers at Mézieres, the best conducted of all, and which admitted twenty pupils only, had suspended its exercises, in consequence of the revolution. Necessity had occasioned the formation of a provisionary school, where the pupils received rapidly the first notions of the attack and defence of places, after which they were sent to the armies.
Such institutions neither answered the exigencies of the State, nor conduced to its glory. Their weakness was, above all, likely to be felt by men habituated to general ideas, and whose minds were still more exalted, and views enlarged, by the revolution. Those men wished that the new School for Public Works should be worthy of the nation. Their plan was extensive in its object, but simple in its execution, and certain in its results.
The first law concerning the Central School for Public Works, since called the Polytechnic School, was made on the 20th of Ventôse year II. (10th of March 1794). From that moment, much zeal was manifested in making the necessary arrangements for its formation. On the report made to the National Convention respecting the measures taken on this subject, on the 7th of Vendémiaire year III (28th of September 1794) a decree was passed, directing a competition to be opened for the admission of four hundred pupils into this school. The examination was appointed to take place in twenty-two of the principal towns. The candidates were to answer in arithmetic and the elements of algebra and geometry. Those admitted received the allowance of military officers for their travelling expenses to Paris. They were to have annually twelve hundred francs, and to remain in the school three years, after which they were to be called to the different Public Services, when they were judged capable of performing them; and priority was to depend on merit. These services were the duty of military engineers, naval engineers, or ship-builders, artillerists, both military and naval, engineers of bridges and highways, geographical engineers, and engineers of mines, and to them were added the service of the pupils of the school of aërostation, which GUYTON MORVEAU had caused to be established at Meudon, for the purpose of forming the aërostatic company destined for manoeuvring air-balloons, applied to the art of war, as was seen at Maubeuge, Fleurus, Aix-la-Chapelle, &c.
However, the conception of this project was far more easy than its execution. It was doing little to choose professors from among the first men of science in Europe, if their lessons were not fixed in the mind of the pupils. Being unable to communicate them to each pupil in private, they stood in need of agents who should transmit them to this numerous assemblage of youth, and be, as it were, the nerves of the body. To form these was the first object.
Among the young men who had presented themselves at the competition, twenty of the most distinguished were selected. Philosophical instruments and a chemical laboratory were provided for them, and they were unremittingly exercised in every part of the plan which it was resolved to execute. These pupils, the greater part of whom had come from the schools for Public Service, felt the insufficiency of the instruction which they had there received. Eager to learn, their mind became inflamed by the presence of the celebrated men who were incessantly with them. The days sufficed not for their zeal; and in three months they were capable of discharging the functions for which they were intended.
Nor was this all. At a time when opinion and power might change from one moment to another, much risk was incurred if a definitive form was not at once given to the Polytechnic School. The authors of this vast project had seen the revolution too near not to be sensible of that truth. But they wished first, by a trial made on a grand scale, to insure their method, class the pupils, and shew what might be expected from them. They therefore developed to them, in rapid lectures, the general plan of instruction.
This plan had been drawn up agreeably to the views of men the best informed, amongst whom MONGE must be particularly mentioned. He had been professor at Mezières, and had there given the first lessons of descriptive geometry, that science so useful to the engineer. The enumeration of the various parts of instruction was reduced to a table, printed by order of the Committee of Public Safety. It comprehends mathematics, analysis applied to descriptive geometry and to the mechanism of solids and fluids, stereotomy, drawing, civil architecture, fortification, general physics, chymistry, mineralogy, and their application to the arts.
In three months, the work of three years was explained. A real enthusiasm was excited in these youths on finding themselves occupied by the sublimest ideas which had employed the mind of man. Amidst the divisions and animosities of political party, it was an interesting sight, to behold four hundred young men, full of confidence and friendship, listening with profound attention to the lectures of the celebrated savans who had been spared by the guillotine.
The results of so great an experiment surpassed the most sanguine expectations. After this preliminary instruction, the pupils were divided into brigades, and education took the course it was intended should follow.
What particularly distinguishes this establishment, is that the pupils not only receive oral lessons, but they must give in written solutions, present drawings, models, or plans for the different parts, and themselves operate in the laboratories.
On the 1st of Germinal year III (22d of March 1795) the annual courses were commenced. They were then distributed for three years, but at this day they last two only. At the same time a decree was passed, regulating the number of professors, adjuncts, ushers, the holding of the meetings of the council of instruction and administration, the functions of the director, administrator, inspector of the studies, secretary of the council, librarian, keepers of the collection of drawings, models, &c.
Since that epoch, the Polytechnic School, often attacked, even in the discussions of the Legislative Body, has maintained its ground by the impression of the reputation of the men who act there as professors, of the depth of the knowledge which makes the object of their lessons, and of the youths of superior talent who issue from it every year. The law which after many adjournments, has fixed its existence is dated the 25th of Frimaire year VIII (16th of December 1799.)
The most important changes introduced, are the determination of the age to be received into this school, which is from sixteen to twenty, the reduction of the pupils to the number of three hundred, the rank which is given them of serjeant of artillery of the first class, their pay fixed on the same footing, together with a fund of assistance for those labouring under difficulties, the obligation to wear a uniform, the establishment of a council of improvement, composed of three members of the National Institute, of examiners, of a general-officer or superior agent of each of the branches of the Public Service, of the director, and four commissioners taken from the council of instruction.
This council assembles every year, inquires into the state of the school, proposes its views of amelioration, respecting every department, and makes a report to the government. One of its principal functions is to harmonise the instruction with that of the Schools of Engineers, Artillery, &c. into which the pupils enter after the final examination they undergo previously to their departure.
After this, to judge of the advantages of the Polytechnic School, it is sufficient to cast an eye on the printed reports, which present an account of the persons it furnishes to the different services, of those who have been taken from it for the expedition to Egypt, for the corps of aspirans de la marine or midshipmen, for entering into the line vith the rank of officers, or into the department of commissaries of war, (into which they are admitted after their examination if no places are vacant in the Schools for Public Service), of those who have been called on to profess the sciences in the central schools (Lyceums) of the departments, some to fill the first professors' chairs in Paris, such as at the Collège de France and the École Polytechnique, of those, in short, who have quitted this school to introduce into the manufactories the knowledge which they had acquired. The last-mentioned circumstance has always been a consideration for carrying the number of pupils beyond the presumable wants of the different Public Services.
You see that this is no more than a summary of what might be said and collected from the journals of the Polytechnic School, (which already form four volumes in 4to. independently of the classic works published by the professors), for giving a complete history of this interesting establishment, which attracts the notice of foreigners of all nations. BONAPARTE takes no small interest in the labours of the Polytechnic School, and has often said that it would be difficult to calculate the effects of the impulse which it has given towards the mathematical sciences, and of the aggregate of the knowledge imparted to the pupils.
The Polytechnic School, which is under the authority of the Minister of the Interior, occupies an extensive range of building, formerly known by the name of _Le petit Palais Bourbon, contiguous to the Palais du Corps Legislatif. The different apartments contain every thing necessary for the elucidation of the arts and sciences here taught; but the pupils reside not at the school: they lodge and board with their friends, on the salary allowed them by the nation, and repair thither only for the prosecution of their studies.
Letter LX
Paris, January 30, 1802.
To judge from the records of the Old Bailey, one would conclude that, in proportion to the number of its inhabitants, London must contain a greater number of dishonest persons of both sexes than any metropolis in Europe. But, though more notorious thieves and daring robbers may perhaps, be found in London than in many other great cities, yet I will venture to affirm that Paris contains more
PICKPOCKETS AND SHARPERS.
However superior too our rogues may be in boldness, I apprehend that, in dexterity, they are far inferior to those to be met with among our neighbours. To elude a more vigilant inspection, the latter are compelled to exert more art and cunning. In this dissipated capital, which is a grand theatre where they can display all their talent, and find a greater number of dupes, adventurers and swindlers of every description have long been famous; but it should seem that the females here of that stamp deserve to be no less celebrated.
Not many years ago, I heard of an English lady of quality being detected in the very act of secreting a quantity of valuable lace, to which she had taken a particular fancy at a great haberdasher's in Pall-Mall. It was said that she endeavoured to exculpate herself for this inadvertency on the ground of being in a pregnant state, which had produced an irrisistible longing. However this may be, she might here have got a lesson, as will appear from the following instance of ingenuity very lately practised by one of her own sex.
In the ci-devant Palais Royal, a haberdasher of note keeps a shop where the highest-priced articles of female wear are exhibited, immediately on coming from the hands of the manufacturer or inventor.
The other day, a lady somewhat turned of thirty, of genteel appearance and engaging address, entered this shop, and asked to see some white lace veils. Several were shewn to her at the price of from twenty-five to fifty louis each. These not being sufficiently rich to please her taste, others more costly were produced, and she fixed on one of eighty louis in value. Standing before a glass, she immediately put on this veil à la réligieuse, that is, in the form of the hood of a nun's dress. Then taking from her bosom her little purse, she found it to contain no more than twenty louis in bankpaper, which she paid to the haberdasher as a deposit for the veil, at the same time desiring him to send one of his men with her to her homme d'affaires or agent, in order that he might bring back the other sixty.
As a Parisian tradesman is always extremely glad to get rid of his goods, she had no difficulty in carrying her point; and, having selected from among the shopmen a shamefaced youth of eighteen, took him with her in the hackney-coach which she had kept in waiting. She gave the coachman her orders, and away he drove to a famous apothecary's, in the Rue St. Honoré. "This," said she to the shopman, "is the residence of my homme d'affaires: follow me, and you shall have your money." She accordingly alighted, and, after saying a few words in the ear of the doctor, on whose credulity she had already exercised her genius, desired him to take the young man to his private room, and settle the business, while she remained to chat with his wife.
The unsuspecting youth, seeing the lady on such terms of intimacy in the family, made no hesitation to follow the doctor to a back-parlour, where, to his extreme surprise, he was closely questioned as to his present state of health, and the rise and progress of the disorder which he had caught through his own imprudence. The more he denied the circumstance, the more the doctor persisted in his endeavours to procure ocular demonstration. The latter had previously locked the door, having been apprized by the lady that her son was exceedingly bashful, and that stratagem, and even a certain degree of violence, perhaps, must be employed to obtain evidence of a complaint, which, as it injured her dear boy's constitution, disturbed her own happiness and peace of mind. The doctor was proceeding to act on this information, when the young shopman, finding his retreat cut off, vociferously demanded the sixty louis which he was come to receive in payment for the veil. "Sixty louis in payment for a veil!" re-echoed the doctor. "Your mother begged me to examine you for a complaint which you have inconsiderately contracted in the pursuit of pleasure." The dénouement now taking place, the two dupes hastened back to the shop, when they found that the lady had decamped, having previously discharged the coach, in order that she might not be traced by the number.
The art of purloining a watch, a snuff-box, or a purse, unperceived by the owner, may, no doubt, be acquired by constant practice, till the novice becomes expert in his profession: but the admirable presence of mind displayed by Parisian sharpers must, in a great measure, be inherited from nature. What can well surpass an example of this kind mentioned by a celebrated French writer?
A certain person who had been to receive a sum of money at a banker's, was returning home with it in a hired carriage. The coachman, not remembering the name of the street whither he had been ordered to drive, got off his box, and opened the coach-door to ask it. He found the person dead and cold. At his first exclamation, several people collected. A sharper who was passing by, suddenly forced his way through the crowd, and, in a lamentable and pathetic voice, called out: "'Tis my father! What a miserable wretch am I!" Then, exhibiting every mark of the most poignant grief, he got into the coach, and, crying and sobbing, kissed the dead man's face. The bystanders were affected, and dispersed, saying, one to another, "What an affectionate son!" The sharper drove on in the coach, where he found the bags of money, which were an unexpected booty, and, stopping it at a door, told the coachman that he wished to apprize his sister of the melancholy accident that had just happened. He alighted, and shut the coach-door, leaving the corpse as naked as it came into the world. The coachman, having waited a long time, inquired in vain at the house for the young man and his sister; no one had any knowledge of her, him, or the deceased.
I remember when I was last in Paris, at the beginning of the revolution, being shewn a silversmith's shop, whence a few articles having been stolen, the master was induced to examine in what manner the thieves gained admittance. Discovering an aperture where he conjectured that a man's hand might be introduced, he prepared a noose with a proper cord, and remained in waiting the following night to see if they would repeat their visit. At a late hour, when all was quiet, he perceived a man's hand thrust through the aperture; instantly he drew tight the noose, and thought he had effectually secured the culprit; but he was mistaken. The fellow's accomplices, fearing that the apprehension of one of them would lead to the discovery of all, on finding it impossible to extricate him by any other means, cut off his wrist. When the patrole arrived at the spot, on the call of the silversmith, he was not a little astonished to find that his prisoner had escaped, though with the loss of a hand, which remained fast in the noose.
With respect to these more daring classes of rogues, every year almost produces some new race of them. Since the revolution, the criminal code having condemned to death none but those guilty of murder, housebreakers, to avoid the penalty of the law, had recourse to a practice, which put the persons whom they subjected to it to the most severe pain. This was to hold their feet to the fire till they declared where all their moveable property was to be found. Hence these villains obtained the name of chauffeurs. Notwithstanding the vigilance of the Police, they still occasionally exercise their cruelties in some of the departments, as may be seen by the proceedings of the criminal tribunals. I have also heard of another species of assassins, who trained blood-hounds to seize a man by the throat in certain solitary places, and then came afterwards, and plundered him at their ease. When apprehended, they coolly said: "We did not kill the man, but found him dead."
As in former times, all sentences passed on criminals, tried in Paris, whether condemned to die or not, are put into execution on the
PLACE DE GRÈVE.
The first sentence executed here was that passed on Marguerite Porette, a female heretic, who was burnt alive in the year 1310.
Among the punishments which it has been found necessary to re-establish is that of marking with a hot iron. Criminals, condemned to imprisonment in irons, are exposed for two hours on a scaffold in the middle of this square. They are seated and tied to a post, having above them a label with the words of their sentence. They are clad in woollen pantaloons and a waistcoat with sleeves, one half of each of which is white; the other, brown. After being exposed two hours, they are stripped, and to their shoulder is applied a hot iron, which there leaves the impression of the letter V, for voleur, thief. Women, not being condemned to imprisonment in irons; are exempt from the penalty of being marked. This punishment is said to produce considerable effect on the culprits, as well as on the spectators. Previously to its being revived, persons convicted of thieving were insolent beyond all endurance.
The Place de Grève is a parallelogram, one of the long sides of which is occupied by the ci-devant Hôtel de Ville, a tasteless edifice, begun in 1533, but not finished till 1605.
Before the revolution, the Place de Grève was alternately the theatre of punishments and rejoicings. On the same pavement, where scaffolds were erected for the execution of criminals, rose superb edifices for public festivals.
Here, when any criminal of note was to suffer, the occupiers of the adjoining houses made a rich harvest by letting their apartments. Every window that commanded a view of the horrid scene, was then hired at a most exorbitant price. Women of the first rank and fashion, decked in all the luxury of dress, graced even the uppermost stories. These weak-nerved females, who would have fainted at the sight of a spider mangling a fly, stood crowded together, calmly viewing the agonies of an expiring malefactor, who, after having been racked on the wheel, was, perhaps, denied the coup de grace which would, in an instant, have rid him of his miserable existence.
The death of a regicide was a sort of gala to these belles; while the lead was melting over the furnace, the iron pinchers heating in the fire, and the horses disposed for tearing asunder the four quarters of the victim of the laws, some of them amused themselves with an innocent game at cards, in sight of all these terrible preparations, from which a man of ordinary feeling would avert his looks with horror.
How happens it that, in all countries on the continent, ladies flock to these odious spectacles? Every where, I believe, the populace run to behold them; but that a female of superior birth and breeding can deliberately seek so inhuman a gratification is a mystery which I cannot explain, unless, indeed, on the principle of shewing themselves, as well as that of seeing the show.
"Spectatum veniunt, veniunt spectentur ut ipsæ."
Letter LXI
Paris, February 2, 1802.
Independently of the general organization of Public Instruction, according to the new plan, of which I have before traced you the leading features, there exist several schools appropriate to different professions, solely devoted to the Public Service, and which require particular knowledge in the arts and sciences. Hence they bear the generic name of
SCHOOLS FOR PUBLIC SERVICES.
They are comprised under the following denominations.
POLYTECHNIC SCHOOL. SCHOOL OF ARTILLERY. MILITARY ENGINEERS. BRIDGES AND HIGHWAYS. MINES. NAVAL ENGINEERS. NAVIGATION.
In order to be admitted into any of the above schools, the candidates must prove themselves qualified by the preliminary instruction required the examinations at the competition prescribed for each of them. The pupils of these schools receive a salary from the nation. At the head of them is the Polytechnic School, of which I have already spoken. This is the grand nursery, whence the pupils, when they have attained a sufficient degree of perfection, are transplanted into the other Schools for Public Services. Next come the
SCHOOLS OF ARTILLERY.
There are eight of these in the places where the regiments of artillery are garrisoned. The pupils who are sent thither as officers, after having been examined, apply their knowledge to the arts, to the construction of works, and to the manoeuvres of war dependent on artillery. Each school, in which the pupils must remain two years longer, is under the superintendance of a general of brigade of the corps.
SCHOOL OF MILITARY ENGINEERS.
This school, united to that of Miners, is established at Metz. Its labours relate to the application of the theoretical knowledge which the pupils have imbibed at the Polytechnic School. The objects of these labours is the construction of all sorts of works of fortification, mines and counter-mines, mock-representations of sieges, attack, and defence, the drawing of plans and military surveys, in a word, all the details of the duty of engineers in fortified places and in the field.
The number of pupils is limited to twenty. They have the rank and pay of second lieutenant. The School of Engineers, as well as the Schools of Artillery, is under the authority of the Minister at War.
Much as I wish to compress my subject, I must observe that, previously to leaving the school, the pupils undergo a strict examination respecting the objects of instruction before-enumerated. This examination is intrusted to a jury (as the French term it) composed of the commander in chief of the school, a general or field-officer of the corps, appointed every year by the Minister at War, and one of the permanent examiners of the Polytechnic School. This jury forms the list of merit, which regulates the order of promotion. Can we then wonder that the French have the first military engineers in Europe?
SCHOOL OF BRIDGES AND HIGHWAYS.
It was founded in 1787, by TRUDAINE, and continued under the direction of PERRONET, chief engineer of this corps, till his death, which happened in 1794. He was then 86 years of age. By his will, he bequeathed to this school, for the instruction of the pupils whom he loved as his children, his library, his models, his manuscripts, and his portfolios; articles which at this day form an invaluable collection.
This school, which is at present established in the Hôtel de Chatelet (formerly belonging to the duke of that name) Rue de Grenelle, St. Germain, unites the dépôt or repository of plans and models to the labours relating to roads, canals, and harbours for trade. The number of pupils admitted is fifty. They are taken from the Polytechnic School, and retain the salary which they there received.
The instruction given to them chiefly consists in the application of the principles of physics and mathematics to the art of planning and constructing works relative to roads, canals, and sea-ports, and the buildings belonging thereto; the means of execution, and the mode of forming plans and estimates of the works to be executed, and the order to be observed in keeping the accounts.
The School of Bridges and Highways is under the authority of the Minister of the Interior,
PRACTICAL SCHOOLS OF MINES.
One of these schools is established at Geislautern, in the department of La Sarre; and the other, at Pesay, in the department of Mont-Blanc.
The Director and Professors form a committee for the working of the mines of Pesay, as well as for the instruction of the pupils. In consequence of the report of this committee the Council of Mines established in Paris, proposes to the government the measures necessary to be adopted. Twenty pupils, who have passed their examination at the Polytechnic School, are attached to the practical schools, for the purpose of applying the theoretical part of their instruction. Extra-scholars, with testimonials of good behaviour and capacity, are admitted to be educated at their own expense. These schools are also under the authority of the Minister of the Interior.
SCHOOL OF NAVAL ENGINEERS.
The School of Naval Architects, which existed in Paris, has been removed to Brest, under the name of École des Ingénieurs des Vaisseaux. No pupils are admitted but such as have been students, at least two years, in the Polytechnic School. The examination of the candidates takes place every year, and the preference is given to those who excel in descriptive geometry, mechanics, and the other branches of knowledge appropriated to the first year's study at that school. When the pupils have proved, in the repeated examinations which they must undergo, that they are sufficiently qualified, they are sent to Brest (as vacancies occur), in order to apply the theory they have acquired to the different works carried on in that port, where they find both the example and the precept, and are taught every thing relative to the construction of ships of war and merchant-vessels.
This school is under the authority of the Minister of the naval department. The pupils admitted into it, receive a salary of 1800 francs (circa £. 75 sterling) a year.
SCHOOLS OF NAVIGATION.
The Schools of Mathematics and Hydrography, established for the navy of the State, and the Schools of Hydrography destined for the merchant-service, bear the name of Écoles de Navigation.
Every year, there is a competition for the admission of candidates for naval employment. The Hydrographical Examiner makes a general tour to the different ports, where he interrogates the pupils in arithmetic, algebra, geometry, statics, and navigation. According to these examinations, they are admitted to the rank of aspirons de marine or midshipmen, captains of merchant-ships for long voyages, masters of coasting-vessels, pilots, &c,
By a late decree of the Consuls, no one can be admitted to the examination prescribed for being received as master in the coasting-trade, unless he is twenty-four years of age, and has served five years on board the ships of war belonging to the Republic.
* * * * *
In my letter of the 15th of January, I have shewn you that Public Instruction is to be divided into four classes: 1. In Primary Schools, established by the Communes. 2. In Secondary Schools, established by the Communes, and kept by private masters. 3. In Lyceums. 4. In Special Schools. In the two last-mentioned establishments, the pupils are to be maintained at the expense of the nation.
Before I particularize the Special Schools, I must mention a national institution, distinguished by the appellation of
PRYTANÉE FRANÇAIS.
It is divided into four colleges, established at Paris, St. Cyr, St. Germain-en-Laye, and Compiegne. It was destined for the gratuitous education of the children of the military killed in the field of honour, and of public functionaries who might happen to die in the discharge of their office.
By a decree of the Consuls, dated the 1st of Germinal year VIII (22nd of March 1800) the number of pupils, in each of the Colleges of Paris, St. Cyr, and St. Germain-en-Laye, is limited to two hundred, and to three hundred, in that of Compiegne. An augmentation, however, is to be made in favour of the new departments. The pupils are named by the First Consul. On entering the College, they bring a stated proportion of necessaries, after which they are wholly maintained at the expense of the nation till they have finished their studies. The government provides for the advancement of those who give the greatest proof of good conduct and talent. The pupils cannot remain in either of these four colleges beyond the age of eighteen.
As I have before observed, the Central Schools are, in future, to bear the name of Lyceums, and the highest degree of public instruction is to be acquired in the
SPECIAL SCHOOLS.
In these upper schools are to be particularly taught, in the most profound manner, the useful sciences, together with jurisprudence, medicine, natural history, &c. The Special Schools now in existence are to be continued, subject to such modifications as the government may think fit to introduce for the benefit of the Public Service. They are still under the immediate superintendance of the Minister of the Interior.
The Collège de France I have before described: the Museum of Natural History, the Special School of docimastic Mineralogy and Chemistry, and that for Oriental languages, I shall speak of elsewhere; but I shall now proceed to give you a rapid sketch of the others which I have not yet noticed, beginning with the
SPECIAL SCHOOL OF PAINTING AND SCULPTURE.
This institution was founded in 1648, at the instigation of LE BRUN. It was formerly held in the Place du Louvre, but is now removed to the ci-devant Collège des Quatre-Nations, which has taken the name of Palais des Beaux Arts. This is the only school in Paris that has never indulged in any vacation. Each professor is on duty for two months. During the first month, he gives his lessons in the school of living models; during the other, in the school of the antique, called, la bosse. It may not be uninteresting to give you an idea of the
COMPETITIONS.
Every year there is a competition in Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, which is to be called National Prize. Its object is to confer on those who have gained the first prize, at present proposed by the Institute, the advantage of an allowance of 1200 francs for five years, which is insured to them at the French School of Fine Arts at Rome. During their stay there, they are lodged, boarded, and taken care of, in case of illness, at the expense of the Republic.
A competition takes place every six months for the rank of places in the schools; and another, every three months for the distribution of medals.
There is also a prize, of 100 francs, founded by M. DE CAYLUS, for a head expressive of character, painted or drawn from nature; and another prize of 300 francs, founded by LATOUR, for a half-length, painted after a model, and of the natural size.
Independently of the competition of the school, there is every year a general competition followed by a distribution of the works of encouragement, granted to the artists who have distinguished themselves most in the annual exhibition of the Salon du Louvre. A jury, named by the competitors themselves, examines the different pictures, classes them according to the degree of merit which it finds they possess, and the Minister of the Interior allots to each of the artists crowned a sum in payment of a new work which they are bound to furnish to the government.
NATIONAL SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE.
In this school, which is held in the Louvre, the Professor of Architecture delivers lectures on the history of that art, and the theory of its different branches, on the orders, and edifices erected by the ancients, and on the works of Vitruvius, Palladio, Scamozzi, and Vignole. He takes no small pains to make known the bold style of Grecian architecture, which the Athenians chiefly employed during the ages when they prided themselves on being a free people.
The Professor of Mathematics explains the principles of arithmetic and elementary geometry, which he applies to the different branches of civil and military architecture, such as levelling, the art of constructing plans, and perspective.
The Professor of Stereotomy, in his lectures, chiefly comprises masonry and carpentry; he points out the best methods of employing those arts in civil and military buildings. His demonstrations relate to the theoretical and practical part of both branches. All the pupils, and students of architecture are indiscriminately admitted to the competition for the great prize of architecture, provided they are not foreigners.
CONSERVATORY OF MUSIC.
This establishment, situated in the Rue du Faubourg Poissonnière, was founded on the 16th of Thermidor year III, (4th of August 1795) for the preservation and reproduction of music in all its branches.
It is composed of a director, three inspectors of teaching, a secretary, a librarian, and thirty-five professors.
The director presides over the whole establishment; the inspectors superintend the teaching, examine the pupils, and teach the branches of study attributed to them by the regulation.
In the Conservatory, the instruction is divided as follows: composition, harmony, solfaing, singing, violin, violincello, harpsicord, organ, flute, hautboy, clarinette, French-horn, bassoon, trumpet, trombonne, serpent, preparation for singing, and declamation applicable to the lyric stage.
The completion of the study is effected by a series of lectures, treating specially of the relations between the sciences and the art of music.
Three hundred pupils of both sexes, taken in equal number from each department, are instructed gratuitously in the Conservatory. The principal points towards which their studies are directed, are, to keep up music in society, to form artists for the execution of public fêtes, for the armies, and for the theatres.
These pupils are admitted after an examination, which takes place four times a year. Prizes are distributed annually, in a public meeting of the Conservatory, to the pupils who distinguish themselves in each branch of study.
* * * * *
February 2, in continuation.
To the preceding brief account of the Conservatory, I shall subjoin a few observations on the
PRESENT STATE OF MUSIC IN FRANCE.
Till the year 1789, this was the country where the greatest expense was incurred in cultivating music; yet the means which were employed, though very numerous, produced but little effect, and contributed not to the improvement of that art. Every thing even announces that its progress would have been still more retarded, but for the introduction of the Italian Opera, in 1645, by Cardinal Mazarin.
The brilliant success of Orfeo e Euridice, in 1647, determined the national taste in favour of this sort of spectacle, and gave birth to the wish of transplanting it to the French stage. It was in 1659 that the first opera, with music adapted to a French poem, was performed at Issy.
Since the epoch of the establishment of the French opera, every department belonging to it, with the sole exception of the singing, has been so much improved, that it is become the most brilliant spectacle in Europe. But, as the lyric theatres in France were always obliged to seek recruits among the pupils formed in the schools maintained by the clergy for the service of public worship, the influence of the clerical mode of instruction was felt; and this was, in fact, the source of the bad taste which for a long time characterized French singing.
Had the grand opera in France been continued an Italian one, as it was first established, (like those subsequently introduced in the principal cities of Europe) it would have been supported by performers formed by the Conservatories of Italy; and the good taste of those schools would have balanced or proscribed the bad taste of the French cathedrals; but the genius of the seventeenth century chose that the French language, purified and fixed by the writers who rendered it illustrious, should also become the language of the lyric theatre. Musical instruction, remaining entirely subservient to the customs of religion, was unable to keep pace with the rapid progress of the arts and sciences during that brilliant period.
Among the defects of the old system of teaching music, must be placed that of confining it to men; nevertheless, the utility of women in concerts and plays was as incontestable then as it is at the present day. Public instruction was therefore due to them in that point of view; but, had no such consideration existed, they should have been admitted to participate in this instruction, in order to propagate the art in society. The success of this method would have been infallible: as soon as women should have cultivated the musical art with success, its naturalization would have been effected in France, as it has been in Germany and Italy.
The expense of the musical instruction pursued in the schools belonging to the cathedrals was immense, compared with its results in every branch of the art. As to composers, they produced but a very
small number, and few of these distinguished themselves; no instrumental performer of eminence ever issued from them; and, with few exceptions, the singers they formed were very indifferent.
The necessity of introducing a better method of singing induced the government, in 1783, to establish a Special School of Singing and Declamation. This institution continued in full exercise for ten years; but, though the celebrated PICCINI was appointed to preside over the vocal department, the habits of the old school obstructed its progress, and prevented it from producing the good which was expected from it.
At the epoch of the dissolution of the monarchical institutions, there remained in France only the School of Music of the Parisian national guard, and that of Singing and Declamation just mentioned. The republican government ordered them to be united, and thus was formed the Conservatory of Music.
Nor let it be imagined that policy has had no share in establishing this institution. It has furnished the numerous bands of musicians rendered necessary by the levy of fourteen armies which France had, at one and the same time, in the field. It is well known that music has done almost wonders in reviving the courage of the French soldiers, who, when Victory seemed adverse to them, inclined her in their favour, by rallying to the tune of the Marseillois. In the heat of action, joining their voice to the instruments, and raising themselves to a pitch of enthusiasm, they received or dealt out death, while they kept singing this hymn. The French then are no less indebted to ROUGET DE LILLE than the Spartans were to TYRTÆUS. At the beginning of the revolution, they had no songs of the warlike kind, except a few paltry ballads sung about the streets. ROUGET, who was then an officer of engineers at Strasburg, was requested to compose a martial hymn. Full of poetic fire, he shut himself up in his chamber, and, in the course of one night, wrote the words of the Marseillois, adapting to them music, also of his own composition. Notwithstanding this patriotic production, and the courage which the author is said to have displayed during the war, he was twice imprisoned, at one time on suspicion of royalism; at another, of terrorism.
Independently of the great number of musicians with which the Conservatory has supplied the armies, it has furnished between two and three hundred to the theatres, as well in Paris as in the departments.[1] The band of the Consular guard was formed from the pupils of the Conservatory, and sixty of them at present compose the orchestra, known in Paris by the name of Concert Français, and the execution of which has been much applauded by many celebrated composers.
Its members meet to discuss the theories which may improve and extend the different branches of the musical art. They have already laid the principal foundations of a body of elementary works for teaching them in perfection. Les Principes élementaires de Musique, and a Traité d'Harmonie, which is said to have gained the universal approbation of the composers of the three schools, assembled to discuss its merits, are already published. A method of singing, established on the best principles of the Italian school, applied to French declamation, is now in the press; and these publications are to be successively followed by other didactic works relative to the history of the art.
A principal cause of the present scarcity of fine voices in France, is the war which she has had to maintain for ten years, by armies continually recruited by young men put in requisition at the period when the voice is forming, and needs to be cultivated in order to acquire the qualities which constitute a good singer.
Formerly, French commerce derived but very little advantage from articles relating to music; but the means employed by the Conservatory may probably turn the scale in favour of this country, as well as render it, in that respect, independent of foreign nations.
Before the revolution, England furnished France with piano-fortes, the common price of which was from three to five hundred francs. Germany mostly supplied her with wind and string instruments. German French-horns, though coarsely-made instruments, cost seventy-two francs, and the good violins of the Tyrol were paid for as high as one hundred and twenty. The consumption of these instruments was considerable. Nor will this appear surprising, as previously to the foundation of the Conservatory, the instrumental musicians, employed in the French regiments and places of public amusement, were mostly Germans.
The French piano-fortes are now in request in most parts of Europe, and their price has, in consequence, increased from one thousand to two thousand four hundred francs. The price of French-horns, made in Paris, which, from being better finished, are preferable to those of Germany, has, in like manner, risen from three to five hundred francs. Parisian violins have increased in proportion.
With respect to printed music, the French import none; but, on the contrary, export a great deal; and the advantages resulting from these two branches of commerce, together with the stamp-duty attached to the latter, are said to be sufficient to defray the expenses of the musical establishments now existing, or those proposed to be created.
Before I close this letter, I must not omit to mention a very useful institution, for the promotion of the mechanical arts, established in the Rue de l'École de Médecine, and called the
GRATUITOUS SCHOOL FOR DRAWING.
It was founded in the year 1766, for the instruction of fifteen hundred children intended for mechanical professions, and was the first beneficent establishment opened in favour of the common people. Literature, sciences, and liberal arts had every where public schools; mechanical arts alone were neglected. The lower orders, by whom they were exercised, had no other means of learning them, and of developing the faculties of their mind, than the blind routine of apprenticeship.
The success of this school had progressively caused similar ones to be instituted in a great number of towns of France, but most of them are buried under the ruins of the revolution; that of Paris has escaped the general overthrow; and, though it has lost a considerable portion of its revenue, it still admits about six hundred pupils. They are taught every thing relative to the mechanical arts, such as drawing in all its various branches, military, civil, and naval architecture, hydraulics, arithmetic, land-surveying, mensuration, perspective, stone-cutting, and in short such parts of mathematics and practical geometry as relate to those different objects.
The Gratuitous School for Drawing must not be assimilated to establishments intended for improving the taste of those who follow the career of the liberal arts. It presents immediately to the children of the lower orders of the people the instruction that suits them best. Here, every thing is useful. Not only are the pupils instructed gratis, but the school furnishes to the indigent, recommended by one of the founders, the paper, pencils, and instruments necessary for their studies in the classes, and also models for exercising their talents at home.
* * * * *
I shall speak elsewhere of the Special School of Medicine of Paris; there are two others, one at Montpellier, and one at Strasburg. At Alfort, near Paris, is established, on a grand scale, a
VETERINARY SCHOOL.
It would lead me too far to particularize every department of this extensive establishment; but one of these is too useful to be passed over in silence. Here are spacious hospitals where animals are classed, not only according to their species, but also according to the species of disorder by which they are affected. Every person may bring hither sick animals, on paying for their food and medicaments only, the operations and dressings being performed and applied gratis.
There are also Veterinary Schools at Lyons, Turin, and Rodez.
In addition to all these schools are to be established, in different parts of the Republic, the following new Special Schools.
Ten of Jurisprudence.
Three of Medicine.
Four of Natural History, Physics, and Chymistry.
One of Transcendent Mathematics.
Two of Technology.
One of Public Economy, enlightened by Geography and History.
One of the Arts dependent on design, and, lastly,
A new Military School.
From the foregoing enumeration, it is evident that the government can never be at a loss for persons duly qualified to perform the duties of every branch of the Public Service. True it is that the nation is at a considerable expense in giving to them the instruction which fits them for the employment; but, in return, what advantages does not the nation derive from the exertion of their talent?
[Footnote 1: In France are reckoned seventy-fire lyric theatres, exclusively of those in the newly-united departments.]
Letter LXII
Paris, February 5, 1802.
In one of your recent letters, you interrogated me respecting the changes which the revolution had produced in the ceremonies immediately connected with the increase and decrease of population. While the subject is fresh in my mind, I shall present the contrast which I have observed, in the years 1789-90 and 1801-2, in the ceremony of
FUNERALS.
Under the old régime, there was no medium in them; they were either very indecorous or very expensive. I have been positively assured that eighteen francs were paid for what was called a parish-funeral, and not unfrequently a quarrel arose between the agent of the rector and the relations of the deceased. However, as it was necessary to bury every one, the Commissaire de police declared the fact, if the relations were unable to pay. Those for whom eighteen francs were paid, had a coffin in which they were buried; the others were laid in a common coffin or shell, from which they were taken to be put into the ground. In a parish-funeral, whether paid or not, several dead bodies were assembled, that is, they were carried one after the other, but at the same time to the same ground. They were conducted by a single priest, reciting by the way the accustomed prayers.
Other funerals were varied without end, according to the fortune or pleasure of the relations. For persons of the richest class, a flaming chapel was constructed at the entrance of the house. This chapel was hung with black cloth, and in it was placed the corpse, surrounded by lighted torches. The apartments were also hung with black for the reception of the persons who were to attend the funeral procession. The priests came to conduct the corpse from the house of the deceased. They were more or less numerous, had or had not wax tapers, according to the will of those who defrayed the expenses. If the presentation of the corpse at the parish-church took place in the morning, a mass was sung; if in the evening, obsequies only were chaunted, and the former service was deferred till the next morning. The relations and friends, in mourning, followed the corpse. These persons walked in the procession, according to their degree of relationship to the deceased, and besides their complete mourning-suit, wore a black cloak, more or less long, according to the quality of the persons (or the price paid for it), and a flapped hat, from which was suspended a very long crape band. Their hair, unpowdered, fell loose on their back. In lieu of a cloak, lawyers, whether presidents, counsellors, attornies, or tipstaffs, wore their black gown. On the cuff of their coat, men wore weepers, consisting of a band of cambric. Every one wore black gloves, and likewise a long pendent white cravat. People of the highest rank wore cottés crépés, that is, a sort of crape petticoat, which fell from the waist to the feet. This was meant to represent the ancient coat of arms.
Servants in mourning, or pages for princes, supported the train of the cloak or gown of persons above the common rank. Other servants, also in mourning, surrounded the relations and friends of the deceased, holding torches with his armorial bearings, if he was a noble. Persons extremely rich or very elevated in rank, hired a certain number of poor (from fifty to three hundred), over whom were thrown several ells of coarse iron gray cloth, to which no particular form was given. They walked before the corpse, holding large lighted torches. The procession was closed by the carriages of persons belonging to it; and their owners did not get into them till their return from the funeral. Sometimes on coming out of the parish-church, where the presentation of the corpse was indispensable, the rector performing the office of magistrate in regard to the delivery of the certificate of presentation, the corpse was carried into a particular church to be buried. This was become uncommon before the revolution, as to do this it was necessary to possess a vault, or pay extremely dear, it being prohibited by law, except in such cases, to bury the dead in churches.
When the deceased belonged to a society or corporation, they sent a deputation to attend him to the grave, or followed in a body, if he was their chief. At the funeral of a prince of the blood, all his household, civil and military, marched in the procession. The corbillard, or sort of hearse, in which his highness was carried to St. Denis, was almost as large as the moveable theatre which Mr. Flockton transports from fair to fair in England. Calculated in appearance for carrying the body of a giant, it was decorated with escutcheons, and drawn by eight horses, also caparisoned to correspond with the hearse. These, however, were but the trappings of woe.
While this funereal car moved slowly forward amidst a concourse of mourners, its three-fold hangings concealed from the eye of the observer the journeymen coach and harness makers, drinking, and playing at dice on the lid of his highness's coffin, by way of dispelling the ennui of the journey. These careless fellows were placed there to be at hand to repair any accident that might happen on the road; so, while, on the outside of the hearse, all wore the appearance of sadness; within, all was mirth; no bad image of the reverse of grandeur and the emptiness of human ostentation.
Such were the ceremonies observed in funerals before the revolution. Passing over the interval, from its commencement in 1789 to the end of the year 1801, I shall describe those practised at the present day. It now depends on the relations to have the corpse presented at the parish-church; but there are many persons who dispense with this ceremony. The priests receive the corpse at the door of the church. It is carried thither in a corbillard. Each municipality has its own, and there are twelve municipalities in Paris. Some of them have adopted the Egyptian style; some, the Greek; and others, the Roman, for the fashion of their corbillard, according to the taste of the municipality who ordered its construction. It is drawn by two horses abreast, caparisoned somewhat like those of our hearses. The coachman and the four bearers are clothed in iron gray or black. An officer of the police, also clothed in black, and holding a cane with an ivory head, walks before the corbillard or hearse. Each corpse has its particular coffin furnished by the municipality. Arrangements have been so made that the rich are made to pay for the poor. The coffin is covered with a black cloth, without a cross, for fear of scaring philosophers and protestants. The relations follow on foot, or in carriages, even in town. Few of them are in mourning, and still fewer wear a cloak.
At the Sainte Chapelle, near the Palais de Justice, is a private establishment where, mourning is let out for hire. Here are to be had corbillards on a more elegant plan. These are carriages hung on springs, and bearing much resemblance to our most fashionable sociables with a standing awning; so much so, that the first of them I saw I mistook for a mourning sociable. Some are ornamented with black feathers. Caparisons, hangings, every thing is in black, as well as the coachman. This speculator also lets out mourning coaches, black without and within, like those in use in London. At a few funerals, these are hired for the mourners, and at a recent one, fifteen of these carriages were counted in the procession. However, this luxury of burials is not entirely come again into fashion. In the inside of the church, every thing passes as formerly.
I shall now proceed from the grave to the gay, and conclude this letter with a concise observation on
MARRIAGES.
The civil act of marriage is entered into at the office of the municipality. But this civil act must not be coufounded with the contract, drawn up by the notary, and containing the stipulations, clauses, and conditions. The former signifies merely that such a man and such a woman take each other for man and wife. There are few, if any, persons married, who, from the municipality, do not repair to the parish-church, or go thither the next morning; the civil act being considered by individuals only as the ceremony of the betrothing, and till the priest has given the nuptial benediction, the relations take care that the intended bride and bridegroom shall have no opportunity of anticipating the duties of marriage.
Political opinions, therefore, prevent but few persons from going to church. Mass is said in a low voice, during which the priest, or the rector, receives the promise of the wedded pair. With little exception, the ceremony is the same for all. Those who pay well are married at the high altar; the rector addresses to them a speech in which he exhorts them to live happily together; the beadles perform their duty; and the organist strikes up a voluntary.
In regard to marriages, the present and former times presenting no other contrast, I have nothing more to add on the subject.
Letter LXIII
Paris, February 6, 1803.
The mode of life of the persons with whom I chiefly associate here, precludes me from reading as much as I could wish, either for instruction or amusement. This, you will say, I ought not to regret; for a traveller visits foreign countries to study mankind, not books. Unquestionably, the men who, like splendid folios in a library, make at present the most conspicuous figure in this metropolis, are worth studying; and, could we lay them open to our inspection, as we do books of a common description, it would be extremely entertaining to turn them over every morning, till we had them, in a manner, by heart. But I rather apprehend that they partake, more or less, of the qualities of a book just come out of the hands of the binder, which it is difficult to open. Let us therefore content ourselves with viewing them as we would volumes of a superbly-bound edition, not to be examined by the general observer, and direct our eyes to such objects as are fully exposed to investigation.
In Paris, there are several public libraries, the greater part of them open every day; but that which eclipses all the others, is the
BIBLIOTHÈQUE NATIONALE.
Charles V, justly surnamed the Wise, from the encouragement he gave to learning, may be considered as the first founder of this library. According to the President Henault, that king had collected nine hundred volumes; whereas king John, his father, possessed not twenty. This collection was placed in a tower of the Louvre, called La Tour de la Librairie, which was lighted up every night, in order that the learned might pursue their studies there at all hours.
After the death of Charles VI, in 1423, the inventory amounted to no more than one hundred and twenty volumes, though several works had been added, because on the other hand, a great number had been lost.
When Paris fell into the power of the English, in 1429, the Duke of Bedford, then regent of France, purchased these books, for which he paid 1200 livres, and the library was entirely dispersed. Charles VII, being continually engaged in war, could not concern himself in its re-estahlishment. Lewis XI collected the remains scattered in different royal residences, and availed himself of the resources afforded by the invention of printing, which was discovered at Strasburg or Mentz in 1440.
Printers, however, were not established in Paris till 1470, and in that same year, they dedicated to Lewis XI one of the first books which they printed. Books were, at this time, very scarce and dear, and continued so for several years, both before and after the discovery of that invention. Twenty thousand persons then subsisted in France by the sale of the books which they transcribed. This was the reason why printing was not at first more encouraged.
Charles VIII added to this literary establishment such works as he was able to obtain in his conquest of Naples. Lewis XII increased it by the library of Potrarch. Francis I enriched it with Greek manuscripts; but what most contributed to augment the collection was the ordinance of Henry II, issued in 1556, which enjoined booksellers to furnish the royal libraries with a copy on vellum of all the works printed by privilege; and, under the subsequent reigns, it gradually acquired that richness and abundance which, before the revolution, had caused it to be considered as one of the first libraries in Europe.
In 1789, the Bibliothèque du Roi, as it was till then called, was reckoned to contain one hundred and eighty thousand printed volumes, eighty thousand manuscripts, a prodigious numbcr of medals, antiques, and engraved stones, six thousand port-folios of prints, and two thousand engraved plates. But, under its present denomination of Bibliothèque Nationale, it has been considerably augmented. Agreeably to your desire, I shall point out whatever is most remarkable in these augmentations.
The buildings, which, since the year 1721, contain this vast collection, formally made part of the Hôtel Mazarin. The entrance is by the Rue de la Loi. It is at present divided into four departments, and is managed by a conservatory, composed of eight members, namely:
1. Two conservators for the printed books, M. M. CAPPERONNIER and VAN-PRAET.
2. Three for the manuscripts, M. M. LANGLÈS, LAPORTE DUTHEIL, and DACIER.
3. Two for the antiques, medals, and engraved stones, M. M. MILLIN and GOSSELIN.
4. One for the prints and engraved plates, M. JOLY.
The first department, containing the printed books, occupies, on the first floor of the three sides of the court, an extent of about nine hundred feet by twenty-four in breadth. The rooms, which receive light on one side only, are equal in height. In the second room to the right is the Parnasse Français, a little mountain, in bronze, covered with figures a foot high, and with medals, representing French poets. Lewis XIV here occupies a distinguished place under the figure of Apollo. It was a present made by TITON DU TILLET.
In another of these rooms, built on purpose, are a pair of globes of an extraordinary size, constructed, in 1683, by Father CORONELLI, a Jesuit, for Cardinal D'ESTRÉES, who presented them to Lewis XIV. The feet of these globes rest in a lower apartment; while their hemispheres project by two apertures made in the floor of fhe first story, and are thus placed within reach of the observer. Their diameter is eleven feet, eleven inches. The celebrated BUTTERFIELD made for them two brass circles, (the one for the meridian, the other for the horizon), each eighteen feet in diameter.
Since the year 1789, the department of printed books has received an augmentation of one hundred and forty thousand volumes, either arising from private acquisitions, or collected in France, Italy, Holland, Germany, or Belgium. Among these is a valuable series of works, some more scarce than others, executed in the XVth century, which has rendered this department one of the most complete in Europe. I shall abstain from entering into a detail of the articles assembled in it, several of which deserve particular notice. A great many ancient specimens of the typographical art are on vellum, and give to this collection a value which it would be no easy matter to appreciate. All the classes of it present a great number, the enumeration of which would far exceed my limits.
The department of manuscripts, which is placed in a gallery one hundred and forty feet in length, by twenty-two in breadth, has been increased in proportion to that of the printed books. The library of Versailles, that of several emigrants, the chapters of various cathedrals, the Sorbonne, the Collège de Navarre in Paris, and the different suppressed religious corporations, have enriched it with upwards of twenty thousand volumes; eight thousand of these belonged to the library of St. Germain-des-Prês, which was burnt in 1793-4, and was immensely rich in manuscripts and old printed hooks.
About fifteen hundred volumes have been taken from Italy, Holland, and Germany. Among those arrived from Italy, we must distinguish the original manuscript of RUFFIN, a priest of Aquilea, who lived in the IVth century, containing, on papyrus or Egyptian paper, the Latin tranlation of the Jewish antiquities of FLAVIUS JOSEPHUS; the grammar of PROBUS or PALÆMON, a manuscript of the Vth century, on vellum, in uncial characters; a very beautiful volume in Syriac, containing the Four Evangelists, a manuscript on vellum of the VIth century; the two celebrated manuscripts of Virgil of the VIIth century, the one from the Vatican, the other from Florence, both on vellum. A roll, in good preservation, composed of several skins, sewed together, containing the Pentateuch in Hebrew, a manuscript of the IXth century. A Terence, with figures of the time and a representation of the masks introduced on the stage by the ancients, together with the various poetical works of PRUDENTIUS; manuscripts on vellum of the IXth century. The Terence is that of the Vatican, in praise of which Madame DACIER speaks in her translation.
The manuscripts of the ancient Dukes of Burgundy, which had so long constituted the ornament of the library of Brussels, now increase the fame of those which the Bibliothèque Nationale already possessed of this description. Their number is about five hundred volumes; the greater part of them are remarkable for the beauty and richness of the miniatures by which they are embellished, and one scarcely inferior in magnificence to the primer of Anne de Bretagne, wife of Lewis XII, to that of Cardinal Richelieu, to the primer and battles of Lewis XIV, and to a heap of other manuscripts which rendered this ci-devant Bibliothèque du Roi so celebrated in foreign countries.
Five large apartments on the second floor are occupied by titles and genealogies, which are still preserved here, in about five thousand portfolios or boxes, for the purpose of verifying the claims to property, and assisting the historian in his researches.
The department of medals, antiques and engraved stones has, since 1789, also experienced an abundant augmentation. The medals are in a cabinet at the end of the Library; the antiques are in another, above it, on the second floor.
In 1790, the engraved stones which had been previously locked up in the drawers of the council-chamber at Versailles, were conveyed hither, to the number of eight hundred. It would be too tedious to dwell on the beauty, merit, and scarceness of these stones, as well as on their finished workmanship and degree of antiquity. Among them, the beautiful ring, called the seal of Michael Angelo, claims admiration.
In 1791, some antiquities which constituted part of the treasure of St. Denis, were brought hither from that abbey. Among these valuable articles, we must particularly distinguish the chalice of the Abbot SUGER; a vase of sardonyx, with two handles formed of raised snakes, on which are represented, with admirable art, ceremonies relating to the worship of Bacchus; a large gold cup, ornamented with enamel of various colours; a very large urn of porphyry, which formerly served as a sepulchral monument; several baptismal fonts; the arm-chair of King Dagobert, a piece of very extraordinary workmanship for the time in which it was executed. Among the valuable articles removed hither from La Sainte Chapelle in Paris, in the same year, are to be particularly remarked a sardonyx, representing the apotheosis of Augustus, and commonly called l'agathe de la Sainte Chapelle. This stone is the largest and rarest known of that species. It was brought to France in the year 1383 by king Charles V.
At the end of 1792 the cabinet of medals of St. Geneviève, forming in the whole seventeen thousand articles, and its fine collection of antique monuments, increased the new riches accumulated in the Bibliothèque Nationale. In 1794, a beautiful series of antiquities, consisting of a great number of imperial medals, of nations, cities, and kings, of all sizes, in gold, silver, and bronze, together with little painted figures, busts, instruments of sacrifices, &c. arrived here from Holland.
In 1796, the department of medals was also enriched by several articles from the Garde-Meuble or Jewel-Office. Among them were some suits of armour belonging to several of the kings of France, particularly that of Francis I, that of Henry IV, and that of Lewis XIV. These were accompanied by a quantity of arms, helmets, shields, breast-plates, and weapons used in the ancient tournaments, as well as quivers, bows, arrows, swords, &c.
Towards the end of the year 1798 and in 1799, several valuable articles arrived here from Italy, among which are two crowns of gold, enriched with precious stones, worn by the ancient kings of Lombardy, at the time of their coronation; the engraved stones and medals of the Pope's cabinet; a head of Jupiter Ægiochus, on a ground of sardonyx, a master-piece of art, which is above all eulogium; the celebrated Isiac table, in copper incrustated with silver, a valuable table of Egyptian mythology, which is presumed to have been executed, either at Alexandria or at Rome, in the first or second century of the christian era; some oriental weapons; a fetfa or diploma of the Grand Signior contained in a silk purse, &c.
The department of prints and engraved plates, formed of the celebrated cabinets of MAHOLLES, BERINGHEN, GAIGNIÈRES, UXELLES, BEGON, GAYLUS, FONTETTE, MARIETTE, &c. contained, before the revolution the most ample, rich, and valuable collection in Europe. It is placed in the entresol, and is divided into twelve classes.
The first class comprehends sculptors, architectural engineers, and engravers, from the origin of the French nation to the present day, arranged in schools.
The second, prints, emblems, and devices of piety.
The third, every thing relative to fables and Greek and Roman antiquities.
The fourth, medals, coins, and heraldry.
The fifth, public festivals, cavalcades, and tournaments.
The sixth, arts and mathematics.
The seventh, prints relating to novels and books of entertainment.
The eighth, natural history in all its branches.
The ninth, geography.
The tenth, plans and elevations of ancient and modern buildings.
The eleventh, portraits of all professions, to the number of upwards of fifty thousand.
The twelfth, a collection of the fashions and dresses of almost every country in the world.
Since 1789, the augmentations made to it are considerable. Among these must be distinguished four hundred and thirty-five volumes brought from the library of Versailles, and fifty-two others, infinitely valuable, respecting China, found at the residence of M. BERTIN, Minister, about eight thousand prints brought from Holland, the greater part of them, very fine impressions; and about twelve thousand collected by different emigrants, almost all modern, indeed, but one half of which are select, and remarkable for their fine preservation.
Among five hundred volumes, obtained from the suppressed religious corporations, are to be remarked one hundred and nine port-folios from the abbey of St. Victor, in Paris, containing a beautiful series of mythological, historical, and typographical subjects. This forms a valuable addition to the collection of the same kind of which the department of prints was already in possession.
In one hundred and forty-four volumes brought from Cologne, there are several scarce and singular engravings.
As for sixty articles sent from Italy, they are, with the exception of the Museum Pio-Clementinum, in such a state of degradation that they are scarcely fit for any thing but to mark the place which each composition has to occupy.
Since 1789, the department of prints has made several acquisitions deserving of notice, such as the works of LEBAS, MARCENAY, and RODE, all extremely difficult to find complete, and three hundred and seventeen plates sent from Germany by FHAUENHOTZ; most of them executed by foreign engravers, and some are very capital.
A few well-known distinguished artists and amateurs, among whom I must not omit to name DENON, ST. AUBIN, and LAMOTTE, a merchant at Havre, have generously enriched the department of prints with a great number of very valuable ones.
The library is open every day, Sundays, and days of national fêtes excepted, from ten o'clock till two, to persons who wish to read, study, or take notes; and for whom every accommodation is provided; but to such as are attracted by curiosity alone, on the Wednesdays and Fridays of each week, at the same hours. On those days, you may perambulate in the different rooms of this magnificent establishment; on the other days, walking is here prohibited, in order that students may not be interrupted. However, JOHN BULL seems to pay little regard to this prohibition. Englishmen are frequently seen stalking about the rooms at the forbidden time, as if they meant to shew that they disdained the rules of propriety and decorum.[1]
Under the government which succeeded the monarchy, was established, within the precincts of the Bibliothèque Nationale, a
SCHOOL FOR ORIENTAL LIVING LANGUAGES.
The design of this school, which is of acknowledged utility in politics and commerce, is to qualify persons to supply the place of the French droguemans in the East, who, at the beginning of the troubles which distracted France, abandoned the interests of their country, and deserted their stations.
LANGLÈS, president of this school, here teaches the Persian and Malay languages.
SILVESTRE DE SACY, literal and vulgar Arabic.
JAUBERT, Turkish and the Tartarian of the Crimea.
DANSE DE VILLOISON, modern Greek.
In general, very few pupils are instructed here, and the greater part of those who begin the courses of lectures, do not follow them three months. This fact I gathered from the professors themselves. When FRANÇOIS DE NEUFCHÂTEAU was Minister, he had attached to this school an Armenian, named CIREIED, who gave lessons in his native language, which are now discontinued.
A course of archæology is also delivered here by the learned MILLIN. The object of this course is to explain antique monuments, and compare them with passages of the classics. The professor indicates respecting each monument the opinions of the different learned men who have spoken of it: he also discusses those opinions, and endeavours to establish that which deserves to be adopted. Every year he treats on different subjects. The courses which he has already delivered, related to the study of medals, and that of engraved stones; the explanation of the ancient monuments still existing in Spain, France, and England; the history of ancient and modern Egypt; sacred and heroic mythology, under which head he introduced an explanation of almost every monument of literature and art deserving to be known.
[Footnote 1: It is the intention of the government to remove the Bibliothèque Nationale to the Louvre, or Palais National des Sciences & des Arts, as soon as apartments can be prepared for its reception.]
Letter LXIV
Paris, February 8, 1803.
Having complied with your desire in regard to the Bibliothèque Nationale, I shall confine myself to a hasty sketch of the other principal public libraries, beginning with the
BIBLIOTHÈQUE MAZARINE.
By his will, dated the 6th of March 1662, Cardinal MAZARIN bequeathed this library for the convenience of the literati. It was formed by GABRIEL NAUDÉ of every thing that could be found most rare and curious, as well in France as in foreign countries. It occupies one of the pavilions and other apartments of the ci-devant Collège Mazarin ou des Quatre Nations, at present called Palais des Beaux Arts.
No valuable additions have been made to this library since the revolution; but it is kept in excellent order. The Conservators, LE BLOND, COQUILLE, and PALISSOT, whose complaisance is never tired, are well known in the Republic of Letters. It is open to the public every day, from ten o'clock to two, Sundays, Thursdays, and the days of national fêtes excepted.
BIBLIOTHÈQUE DU PANTHÉON.
Next to the Bibliothèque Nationale, this library is said to contain the most printed books and manuscripts, which are valuable on account of their antiquity, scarceness, and preservation. It formerly bore the title of Bibliothèque de St. Geneviève, and belonged to the Canons of that order, who had enriched it in a particular manner. The acquisitions it has made since the revolution are not sufficiently important to deserve to be mentioned. With the exception of the Bibliothèque Nationale, not one of the public libraries in Paris has enjoyed the advantage of making improvements and additions. The library of the Pantheon is open to the public on the same days as the Bibliothèque Mazarine.
The present Conservators are DAUNOU, VENTENAT, and VIALLON. The first two are members of the National Institute.
BIBLIOTHÈQUE DE L'ARSENAL.
This library, one of the richest in Paris, formerly belonged to the
Count d'Artois. It is destined for the Conservative Senate, in whose palace a place is preparing for its reception. However, it is thought that this removal cannot take place in less than a year and a half or two years. It has acquired little since the revolution, and is frequented less than the other libraries, because it is rather remote from the fashionable quarters of the town. There are few inquisitive persons in the vicinity of the Arsenal; and indeed, this library is open only on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays of every week from ten o'clock till two. AMEILHON, of the Institute, is Administrator; and SAUGRAIN, Conservator.
Before I quit this library, you will, doubtless expect me to say something of the place from which it derives its appellation; namely,
THE ARSENAL.
It is a pile of building, forming several courts between the Quai des Célestins and the Place de la Liberté, formerly the Place de la Bastille. Charles V had here erected some storehouses for artillery, which were lent very unwillingly by the Provost of Paris to Francis I, who wanted them for the purpose of casting cannon. As was foreseen, the king kept possession of them, and converted them into a royal residence. On the 28th of January 1562, lightning fell on one of the towers, then used as a magazine, and set fire to fifteen or twenty thousand barrels of powder. Several lives were lost, and another effect of this explosion was that it killed all the fishes in the river. Charles IX, Henry III, and Henry IV rebuilt the Arsenal, and augmented it considerably. Before the revolution, the founderies served for casting bronze figures for the embellishment of the royal gardens. The Arsenal then contained only a few rusty muskets and some mortars unfit for service, notwithstanding the energetic inscription which decorated the gate on the Quai des Célestins:
"Ætnæ hæc Henrico Vulcania tela ministrat, Tela gigantæos debellatura furores."
NICOLAS BOURBON was the author of these harmonious lines, which so much excited the jealousy of the famous poet, SANTEUIL, that he exclaimed in his enthusiasm, "I would have wished to have made them, and been hanged."
During the course of the revolution, the buildings of the Arsenal have been appropriated to various purposes: at present even they seem to have no fixed destination. Here is a garden, advantageously situated, which affords to the inhabitants of this quarter an agreeable promenade.
The before-mentioned libraries are the most considerable in Paris; but the National Institute, the Conservative Senate, the Legislative Body, and the Tribunate, have each their respective library, as well as the Polytechnic School, the Council of the School of Mines, the Tribunal of Cassation, the Conservatory of Music, the Museum of Natural History, &c.
Independently of these libraries, here are also three literary dépôts or repositories, which were destined to supply the public libraries already formed or to be formed, particularly those appropriated to public instruction. When the Constituent Assembly decreed the possessions of the clergy to be national property, the Committee of Alienation fixed on the monasteries of the Capucins, Grands Jésuites, and Cordeliers, in Paris, as dépôts, for the books and manuscripts, which they were desirous to save from revolutionary destruction.
Letter LXV
Paris, February 9, 1802.
Vive la danse! Vive la danse! seems now to prevail here universally over "Vive l'amour! Vive la bagatelle!" which was the rage in the time of LA FLEUR. I have already informed you that, in moments the most eventful, the inhabitants of this capital spent the greater part of their time in
DANCING.
However extraordinary the fact may appear, it is no less true. When the Prussians were at Châlons, the Austrians at Valenciennes, and Robespierre in the Convention, they danced. When the young conscripts were in momentary expectation of quitting their parents, their friends, and their mistresses to join the armies, they danced. Can we then wonder that, at the present hour, when the din of arms is no longer heard, and the toils of war are on the point of being succeeded by the mercantile speculations of peace, dancing should still be the favourite pursuit of the Parisians?
This is so much the case, that the walls of the metropolis are constantly covered by advertisements in various colours, blue, red, green, and yellow, announcing balls of different descriptions. The silence of streets the least frequented is interrupted by the shrill scraping of the itinerant fiddler; while by-corners, which might vie with Erebus itself in darkness, are lighted by transparencies, exhibiting, in large characters, the words "Bal de Société." --"Happy people!" says Sterne, "who can lay down all your cares together, and dance and sing and sport away the weights of grievance, which bow down the spirit of other nations to the earth!"
In summer, people dance here in rural gardens, or delightful bowers, or under marquees, or in temporary buildings, representing picturesque cottages, constructed within the limits of the capital: these establishments, which are rather of recent date, are open only in that gay season.
In winter, the upper classes assemble in magnificent apartments, where subscription-balls are given; and taste and luxury conspire to produce elegant entertainments.
However, it is not to the upper circles alone that this amusement is confined; it is here pursued, and with truer ardour too, by citizens of every class and description. An Englishman might probably be at a loss to conceive this truth; I shall therefore enumerate the different gradations of the scale from the report of an impartial eye-witness, partly corroborated by my own observation.
Tradesmen dance with their neighbours, at the residence of those who have the best apartments: and the expense of catgut, rosin, &c. is paid by the profits of the card-table.
Young clerks in office and others, go to public balls, where the cavalier pays thirty sous for admission; thither they escort milliners and mantua-makers of the elegant class, and, in general, the first-rate order of those engaging belles, known here by the generic name of grisettes.
Jewellers' apprentices, ladies' hair-dressers, journeymen tailors and upholsterers dance, at twenty sous a head, with sempstresses and ladies' maids.
Journeymen shoemakers, cabinet-makers, and workmen of other trades, not very laborious, assemble in guingettes, where they dance French country-dances at three sous a ticket, with grisettes of an inferior order.
Locksmiths, carpenters, and joiners dance at two sous a ticket, with women who constantly frequent the guinguettes, a species of dancing-girls, whom the tavern-keepers hire for the day, as they do the fiddlers.
Water-carriers, porters, and, in general, the Swiss and Auvergnats have their private balls, where they execute the dances peculiar to their country, with fruit-girls, stocking-menders, &c.
The porters of the corn-market form assemblies in their own neighbourhood; but the youngest only go thither, with a few bons vivans, whose profession it would be no easy matter to determine.
Bucksome damsels, proof against every thing, keep them in countenance, either in drinking brandy or in fighting, and not unfrequently at the same bal de société, all this goes on at the same time, and, as it were, in unison.
Those among the porters of the corn-market and charcoal carriers, who have a little manners, assemble on holidays, in public-houses of a more decent description, with good, plain-spoken market-women, and nosegay-girls. They drink unmixed liquor, and the conversation is somewhat more than free; but, in public, they get tipsy, and nothing farther!
Masons, paviours in wooden shoes, tipped with iron, and other hard-working men, in short, repair to guingettes, and make the very earth tremble with their heavy, but picturesque capers, forming groups worthy of the pencil of Teniers.
Lastly, one more link completes the chain of this nomenclature of caperers. Beggars, sturdy, or decrepit, dance, as well as their credulous betters: they not only dance, but drink to excess; and their orgies are more noisy, more prolonged, and even more expensive. The mendicant, who was apparently lame in the day, at night lays aside his crutch, and resumes his natural activity; the idle vagabond, who concealed one arm, now produces both; while the wretch whose wound excited both horror and pity, covers for a tune the large blister by which he makes a very comfortable living.