LIBRARY 
 
 UHl 
 
 SAN
 
 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH 
 STAGE
 
 QUEENS OF THE 
 FRENCH STAGE 
 
 BY 
 
 H. NOEL [WILLIAMS 
 
 AUTHOR OF "MADAME KECAMIER AND HER FRIENDS," "MADAME DE 
 
 POMPADOUR," "MADAME DE MONTESPAN," "MADAME 
 
 DU BARRY," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 153-157 FIFTH AVENUE 
 1905
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. THE WIFE OF MOLIERE i 
 
 II. MARIE DE CHAMPMESLE .... 87 
 
 III. ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR . . . .127 
 
 IV. MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO . . 197 
 V. JUSTINE FAVART 223 
 
 VI. MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON . . .273 
 
 INDEX 353
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR. (Photogravure) . . Frontispiece 
 After the painting by CHARLES COYPEL 
 
 ARMANDE BEJART tofacepage 24 
 
 After a contemporary drawing in the collection of 
 M. HENRY HOUSSAYE, of the Academie Francaise 
 
 JEAN RACINE 96 
 
 From an engraving by VERTUE 
 
 MAURICE DE SAXE 168 
 
 After the painting by HYACINTHS RiGAUD 
 
 MADEMOISELLE PROVOST 200 
 
 After the painting by JEAN RAOUX, in the Muste of Tours 
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO 208 
 
 From the painting by LANCRET, in the Wallace Collec- 
 tion at Hertford House 
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 240 
 
 After the drawing by CHARLES NICOLAS COCHIN fih 
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 296 
 
 After the painting by CARLE VAN Leo 
 
 ELIZABETH BERKELEY, Countess of Craven (after- 
 wards Margravine of Anspach) .... 344 
 After the drawing by SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS 
 
 vii
 
 qUEENS OF THE FRENCH 
 STAGE - 
 
 i 
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLIERE 
 
 FEW women in French history have been the subject 
 of more discussion than the young girl whom Moliere 
 married, at the church of Saint-Germain 1'Auxerrois, on 
 February 20, 1662. 
 
 Armande Gresinde Claire Elisabeth Bejart, for that 
 was the bride's name, is described in the marriage deed 
 as the daughter of the late Joseph B6jart, Icuyer, sieur 
 de Belleville, and of his widow, Marie Herv6. Joseph 
 Bejart, it should be stated, had died shortly before, or 
 shortly after, Armande's birth. 
 
 The Bejarts were very poor, for the only means 
 which Joseph seems to have possessed wherewith to main- 
 tain his pretensions to nobility were derived from a small 
 government appointment (huissier ordinaire du roy es earn 
 etforets de France), and his wife had presented him with 
 " at least eleven children." They lived in the Marais, 
 then the theatrical quarter of Paris. On its northern 
 outskirts, near the Halles, in the Rue Mauconseil, 
 stood the old Hotel de Bourgogne, the first home of 
 the regular drama; in the centre, in the Rue Vieille du
 
 4 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Temple, was the theatre which took its name from the 
 quarter, the Theatre du Marais, where Corneille's Cid 
 was first performed ; while nearer the Seine, the play- 
 goer could make choice between the Italian troupes, the 
 Trois Farceurs, Gaultier-Garguille, Gros-Guillaume, and 
 Turlupin, 1 and open-air entertainments on the Pont-au- 
 Change, the Pont-Neuf, and the Place Dauphine. It 
 is, therefore, not surprising that the little Bejarts should 
 have been in the habit of varying the monotony of their 
 poverty-stricken lives by occasional visits to one or 
 other of these spectacles, or that, dazzled by those 
 well-known attractions, which were doubtless as potent 
 in the seventeenth century as they are to-day, the 
 two eldest, Joseph and Madeleine, should have de- 
 cided, while still very young, to make the stage their 
 profession. 
 
 What theatre witnessed their dtbuts we do not 
 know. The majority of authors are of opinion that they 
 joined a company of strolling players which was at this 
 time exploiting Languedoc ; M. Larroumet hesitates be- 
 tween one of the unlicensed playhouses of the fairs in 
 the neighbourhood of Paris and a troupe of amateurs, 
 several of which were to be found in the capital ; while 
 another of Madeleine's biographers, M. Henri Chardon, 
 thinks that she obtained admission to the Theatre du 
 
 1 Their real names were Hugues Gueru, Robert Guerin, and Henri 
 Legrand. Apprenticed to bakers in the Faubourg Saint-Laurent, they 
 deserted their masters to play in a tennis-court near the Estrapade, a 
 machine invented, in the days of Fran9ois I., for the benefit of heretics. 
 Turlupin usually played a roguish valet, Gros-Guillaume a pedant, and 
 Gaultier-Garguille a supremely stupid old man. They eventually 
 joined the company of the Hotel de Bourgogne, whose popularity was 
 immensely strengthened by their inclusion. Hawkins, " Annals of the 
 French Stage," {.51.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLI&RE 5 
 
 Marais, though it appears very improbable that a young 
 and inexperienced actress could have met with such good 
 fortune. 
 
 However that may be, Madeleine seems to have 
 prospered in her profession from the very outset, as on 
 January 10, 1636, supported by her curateur, one Simon 
 Courtin, her father, a paternal uncle, a " chef du gobelet 
 du roi" and divers other relatives and friends, she 
 appears before the Civil Lieutenant of Paris * to request 
 permission to contract a loan of 2000 livres, wherewith 
 to supplement a like sum of her own and enable her to 
 acquire a little house and garden situated in the Cul-de- 
 Sac Thorigny. 
 
 Two and a half years later (July n, 1638), we hear 
 of her again, under circumstances which perhaps explain 
 her desire to secure a residence of her own a desire, it 
 must be admitted, not a little singular in a young lady 
 of eighteen for on that day is baptized at Saint-Eustache 
 " Fransoise, daughter of Esprit Raymond, chevalier, 
 seigneur de Modene and other places, chamberlain of the 
 affairs of Monseigneur, only brother of the King, and 
 of the demoiselle Madeleine Bejart." 
 
 M. de Modene and Madeleine were not married ; 
 indeed, there was already a Madame de Modene, residing 
 at Le Mans, who did not die until 1649. But this 
 trifling accident, as it was regarded in those days, did 
 not prevent the son of the former (by proxy) 2 and the 
 
 1 The Civil Lieutenant was, after the Provost of Paris, the first 
 magistrate of the Chatelet ; to him belonged, among other functions, the 
 supervision of guardians and trustees of children under age and of con- 
 seils de famille. 
 
 2 He was a child of seven or eight, and his father's object in inserting 
 his name in the acts de naissance was probably to annoy his unfortunate wife.
 
 6 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 mother of the latter (in person) standing as sponsors to 
 the little Frangoise, whose birth was fated to be the cause 
 of much trouble, not to her guilty parents, but to two 
 perfectly innocent persons, one of whom was as yet 
 unborn. 
 
 A few words must here be said of the father of 
 Madeleine Bejart's child. 
 
 Esprit Raymond de Mormoiron, Comte de Modene, 
 who was then about thirty years of age, came of an old 
 family in the Venaissin. His father, Frangois Raymond 
 de Mormoiron, had at one time held the office of Grand 
 Provost of France and had also been employed on 
 several diplomatic missions. Appointed page to Gaston 
 d'Or!6ans, brother of Louis XIII., he became later one of 
 the chamberlains of that prince, and seems to have done 
 his best to imitate him in his dissipated and turbulent 
 conduct. He early ranged himself among the enemies 
 of Richelieu, joined the famous league " for the universal 
 peace of Christendom," and fought on its behalf at the 
 battle of La Marfe, at the head of a body of cavalry 
 which he had raised at his own expense. In consequence 
 of this, he was condemned to death, by a decree of the 
 Parliament of Paris (September 6, 1641), but took 
 refuge in Flanders, with the Due de Guise, against whom 
 a similar sentence had been pronounced, and remained 
 there until the death of Richelieu, followed by that of 
 Louis XIII., left him at liberty to return to France. 
 When, in 1647, Guise went to Naples, to endeavour to 
 exploit the revolt of Masaniello to his own advantage, 
 Modene accompanied him and greatly distinguished 
 himself. He was eventually, however, taken prisoner 
 by the Spaniards and held captive until 1650. On his 
 return to France, he meddled no more with public affairs,
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLI^RE 7 
 
 but occupied himself with the care of his neglected 
 estates and in the compilation of a valuable history of 
 the revolution in Naples, reprinted, in 1826, under the 
 title of Memoires du Comte de Modem. It is to be noted 
 here that from the early autumn of 1641 until the 
 summer of 1643 the Comte de Modene was absent 
 from France. 
 
 Some time in the early weeks of the year 1643, 
 probably either in the last week in February or the 
 first in March, Madeleine's father, Joseph Bejart the 
 elder, died; and on March 10, Marie Herve, his 
 widow, presented herself before the Civil Lieutenant of 
 Paris, where, in the name, and as guardian, of Joseph, 
 Madeleine, Genevieve, Louis, and " a little girl not yet 
 baptized" children under age (i.e. under twenty-five) of 
 the said deceased and herself, she represented that " the 
 inheritance of her deceased husband being charged with 
 heavy debts without any property wherewith to acquit 
 them, she feared that it would be more burdensome than 
 profitable," and, accordingly, declared her intention of 
 renouncing it. Her request was supported by her 
 brother-in-law, Pierre Bejart, procureur to the Chatelet, 
 and other relatives, and on June 10 of the same year she 
 was permitted to make the renunciation she desired. 
 
 Now who was this " little unbaptized girl " ? With- 
 out a shadow of doubt, Armande Bejart, the future wife 
 of Moliere ; on this point all the poet's biographers are 
 unanimous. Was she, as represented, the daughter of 
 Marie Herve ? That is the question which has afforded 
 material for a controversy which has already lasted for 
 nearly two hundred and fifty years and seems not 
 unlikely to continue till the end of all things, for the 
 most fantastic theories, for a small library of books and
 
 8 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 pamphlets, and for review and newspaper articles with- 
 out number. For some see in this little girl a sister, 
 others a daughter of Madeleine Bejart, and the truth is 
 of the most vital importance to the honour of the great 
 man whose wife Armande became. 
 
 That the latter impression was almost universal 
 amongst Moliere's contemporaries is beyond question, 
 nor is the fact one that need occasion any surprise. 
 Every one, that is to say, every one connected with, or 
 interested in, the theatrical world, was aware that, early 
 in life, Madeleine Bejart had had a little girl ; while, on 
 the other hand, the birth of Marie Herve's child, which 
 was of no public interest, and which, moreover, probably 
 took place not in Paris, but in one of the adjacent villages, 1 
 was known to very few. A young girl grew up with 
 Madeleine, who was tenderly attached to her ; it was 
 Armande ; but gossip confounded her with the child 
 Fran9oise, of whom all trace seems to have been lost, 
 and the wiseacres smiled the smile begotten of superior 
 knowledge when any stranger to Paris chanced to refer 
 to the girl as Madeleine's sister. 
 
 For over a century and a half this belief remained 
 unchallenged. Hostile or sympathetic, all who wrote of 
 Moliere La Grange, Grimarest, Breuze de la Martiniere, 
 Bayle, Donneau de Vise shared the common opinion in 
 regard to the origin of Armande Bejart. In 1821, how- 
 ever, there was quite a flutter of excitement in literary 
 
 1 This is Jal's conclusion. While compiling his famous Dictionnairt 
 critique de Biographic et d 1 Histoire, he made an exhaustive search of the 
 registers of all the old parishes of Paris there were sixty-eight but 
 failed to discover either the acte de naissance of Armande or the death 
 certificate of Joseph Bejart, which two events must have taken place 
 within a few days of each other.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLI&RE 9 
 
 circles, for in that year Beffara discovered Moliere's acte 
 de manage, in which Armande is spoken of as the 
 daughter of Joseph Bejart and his widow, Marie Herve. 
 Forty-two years later, the old scandal, which in the 
 interim had been partly revived by M. Fournier (Etudes 
 sur la vie et les centres de Moliere) and M. Bazin (Notes 
 historiques sur Moliere}, received another severe blow by 
 Eudore Soulie's discovery of the deed of March 10, 1643, 
 already mentioned, wherein Marie Herve requested per- 
 mission to renounce the succession to her husband's 
 property, and which confirmed the statement made in 
 the acte de manage. Such evidence, one would naturally 
 suppose, would have been accepted as conclusive, and the 
 matter set at rest once and for all. But tradition dies 
 hard ; not a few Molieristes refused to renounce an 
 opinion sanctioned by so many generations, and M. Jules 
 Loiseleur, a writer who enjoyed a considerable, and not 
 undeserved, reputation as an unraveller of historical 
 mysteries, propounded, on behalf of his fellow-sceptics, 
 the following theory. 
 
 The declarations made by Marie Herv, in the deed 
 of March 10, 1643, and again in the acte de manage, that 
 Armande was her child, were, he maintains, deliberate 
 falsehoods, conceived in the interests of her daughter, 
 Madeleine. At the beginning of the year 1643, Made- 
 leine was about to become a mother, for the second time, 
 not, of course, by the Comte de Modene, who had been 
 in exile for nearly two years, but by some new lover. 
 Fearing that if Modene returned and learned the fact, 
 he would refuse to resume the liaison, which she hoped 
 might one day be regularised (M. Loiseleur was under 
 the impression that Madame de Modene was dead, 
 whereas she lived until 1649), she begged her mother
 
 io QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 to recognise the child as her own ; a request to which 
 that complacent old lady, whose husband was just dead, 
 or on the point of death, readily consented. 
 
 Now this ingenious theory is based on the advanced 
 age of Marie Herve she was then about fifty-three and 
 the belief that she had not had a child since the birth of 
 Louis Bejart, afterwards a prominent member of Moliere's 
 troupe, who was born on November 14 or 15, 1630, that 
 is to say, more than twelve years earlier, which facts 
 rendered it highly improbable that she could have been 
 the mother of Armande ; and M. Loiseleur supports his 
 contention by pointing out that the two eldest children, 
 Joseph and Madeleine, described in the deed of March 
 io, 1643, as minors, were over twenty-five, and that their 
 age was purposely understated to make their mother 
 appear younger than she was, and so facilitate the fraud. 
 This point has been contested by Mr. Andrew Lang, 
 in his admirable article on Moliere in the Encyclopaedia 
 'Britannica, but is really of no importance, as if M. 
 Loiseleur had exercised a little more care, he would have 
 found that so far from more than twelve years having 
 elapsed between the birth of the last of Marie Herve's 
 children and that of Armande, she had had a little girl 
 less than three and a half years before (November 30, 1639), 
 baptized, in the parish of Saint-Sauveur, by the name 
 of Benigne Madeleine, the second name being doubtless 
 intended as a compliment to Madeleine Bejart, who 
 acted as marraine. 1 Whereby M. Loiseleur's argument 
 disappears, and his theory with it. 
 
 Nevertheless, the fact remains that Armande's con- 
 temporaries saw in her not a sister, but a daughter of 
 
 1 Jal, Dictionnaire critique de Biographie et d'Histoire, Article " Bejart."
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfiRE u 
 
 Madeleine Bejart, and, with this belief, they held another, 
 to wit, that Moliere had been, previous to his marriage 
 with the younger sister, the lover of the elder. From 
 which two suppositions sprang one of the most hideous 
 accusations that has ever sullied the reputation of a 
 great man. 
 
 Moliere, like most successful men, had a good many 
 enemies, and was accustomed to give and receive very 
 hard knocks. With the company of the Theatre du 
 Marais he appears to have been on tolerably amicable 
 terms ; but with the actors of the third great theatre, 
 the Hotel de Bourgogne, his relations were decidedly 
 strained, and whenever an opportunity arose of turning 
 one or other of them into ridicule, he seldom failed to 
 avail himself of it, though he made an exception in the 
 case of Floridor, who was too great a favourite with the 
 public for them to tolerate any attacks upon him. In 
 his Impromptu de Versailles^ played before the Court 
 in October 1663, Moliere satirised several actors of 
 the Hotel de Bourgogne, and, among them, one named 
 Montfleury, 1 whose ponderous style of declamation he 
 imitated with great success. To this, Montfleury's son, 
 Antoine Montfleury, who was a prolific and successful 
 dramatist, replied with another play, called r Impromptu 
 de FMtel de Conde^ in which he endeavoured to turn 
 the tables on Moliere ; but the vengeance of the father 
 took a very different form. 
 
 1 His real name was Zacharie Jacob. A gentleman by birth, he had 
 been educated for the army and had served the Due de Guise as page, 
 but his passion for the theatre led him to become an actor. In spite of 
 the ridicule to which he was subjected by Moliere, he was an excellent 
 tragedian, and in parts made up of " transports and bursts of rage " much 
 admired. His death, which occurred in 1668, is said to have been 
 caused by over-exertion as Orestes in Racine's Andromaque.
 
 12 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 In December 1663, Racine wrote to the Abbe Le 
 Vasseur : " Montfleury has drawn up a memorial and 
 presented it to the King. He accuses him [Moliere] 
 of having married the daughter [Armande], and of 
 having formerly lived with the mother [Madeleine], 
 But Montfleury is not listened to at Court." l From 
 this passage it is evident that Montfleury intended 
 Louis XIV. to believe that Moliere had married his 
 own daughter ; which is the starting-point of the 
 abominable calumny which so long weighed, and which 
 still weighs, on the memory of the great dramatist. 
 
 Beyond what Racine tells us, we have no information 
 about this memorial of Montfleury. That he advanced 
 any proofs in support of his accusation is extremely im- 
 probable ; although it is quite possible that he would 
 have endeavoured to substantiate it had he received any 
 encouragement from the King. Any way, Louis XIV. 
 appears to have satisfied himself that the charge was 
 merely the outcome of jealousy and spite, and when, 
 in the following February, Moliere's first child was 
 baptized at Saint-Germain 1'Auxerrois, he and his 
 sister-in-law, the ill-fated Henrietta of England, stood 
 sponsors. Than which the poet could have desired 
 no more complete reparation. 
 
 Thirteen years later, in 1676, that is to say, three 
 years after Moliere's death, Montfleury's accusation was 
 repeated. A man of the name of Guichard, a sort of 
 entrepreneur for fe*tes and plays, coveted Lulli's post as 
 director of the recently-established Opera, and, seeing 
 no likelihood of realising his ambition by any legitimate 
 means, had recourse to poison, the fashionable expedient 
 for ridding oneself of professional rivals and other incon- 
 
 1 (Euvres completes de J. Racine (edit, a" dime- Martin), vi. 136.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfiRE 13 
 
 venient persons at this period. One Sebastian Aubry, 
 a connection of the Bejarts, was entrusted with the 
 commission ; but, instead of executing it, he informed 
 Lulli, who promptly invoked the protection of the 
 law. An inquiry was held and numerous witnesses 
 called for the prosecution, among whom was the widow 
 of Moliere. In order to discredit the testimony of 
 these witnesses, Guichard drew up a memorial, in 
 which, besides making the most infamous charges 
 against Armande's moral character, of which we shall 
 speak later, he alluded to her as " the orphan of her 
 husband " and " the widow of her father." Unlike 
 Montfleury, however, who was an old and respected 
 member of his profession, Guichard appears to have 
 been a consummate scoundrel, capable of any villainy 
 to serve his ends; and we can hardly believe that a 
 charge made by such a person could have excited any 
 feelings, save those of indignation and disgust. 
 
 However, unhappily, other pens were not wanting 
 to keep alive this hideous calumny. It is true that 
 there are no further direct accusations; but there are 
 allusions, which, as they appear in works that enjoyed, 
 in their day, a considerable circulation, must have 
 answered much the same purpose. In 1770, seven 
 years after Montfleury had set the ball rolling, a 
 certain Le Boulanger de Chalussay, of whom little or 
 nothing seems to be known, attacked Moliere in a 
 play called Elomire hypocondre, ou les Mddicins vengts 
 Elomire being, of course, an anagram of Moliere. 
 This play, intended as a reply to the great dramatist's 
 repeated attacks on the medical profession, was a fatuous 
 production, dull, confused, and encumbered with an 
 absurd number of characters ; and the company of the
 
 i 4 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Hotel dc Bourgogne, to whom it was submitted, very 
 prudently declined to accept it, notwithstanding which 
 the author caused it to be printed and circulated. In 
 one scene, Elomire speaks of the care he is taking to 
 train up his wife in the way he would have her go, in 
 order to avoid all risk of finding himself numbered 
 among deceived husbands. Thereupon, his confidant 
 reminds him of the fate which befell Arnolphe in the 
 Ecole des femmes, in spite of all his precautions. 1 
 But Elomire replies that he is better advised than 
 Arnolphe : 
 
 " Arnolphe commenca trop tard h. la forger ; 
 C'est avant le berceau qu'il y devoit songer, 
 Comme quelqu'un 1'a fait." 
 
 Moliere demanded and obtained the suppression of 
 Elomire hypocondre ; but this only had the effect of 
 stimulating its circulation, as, in the following year, a 
 new edition was clandestinely printed in the provinces, 
 and, in 1672, a third was produced by the Elzevirs, in 
 Holland. 
 
 Another allusion occurs in a scandalous work entitled 
 La Fameuse Comedienne, published anonymously in 1688, 
 of which we shall have a good deal to say hereafter : 
 " She [Armande] was the daughter of the deceased 
 Bejart, a provincial actress, who was making the bonne 
 fortune of numbers of young gentlemen in Languedoc 
 at the time of the auspicious birth of her daughter. 
 That is why it is very difficult, in the face of such 
 promiscuous gallantry, to say who was the father." And 
 the writer concludes : " She is believed to be the daughter 
 
 1 See p. 33, infra.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLI&RE 15 
 
 of Moliere, notwithstanding the fact that he afterwards 
 became her husband ; however, one does not really 
 know the truth." 
 
 It appears to be the tendency among modern writers, 
 while indignantly repudiating the accusation of Mont- 
 fleury, to accept with complacency the opinion of 
 Moliere's contemporaries that his relations with Made- 
 leine Bejart had been, at one time, on a closer footing 
 than that of friendship. In this they show a singular 
 want of consistency, for, as M. Gustave Larroumet, than 
 whom Moliere has no more ardent admirer, very justly 
 observes, the two suppositions are inseparable, and those 
 who admit the probability of the second cannot well 
 deny the possibility of the first, provided, of course, that 
 they hold, with M. Loiseleur, that Marie Herv6 had 
 been guilty of fraud in the documents discovered by 
 Beffara and Eudore Souli, and that Armande was the 
 daughter of Madeleine. 1 
 
 Let us, however, look at the facts as briefly as may 
 be, since the subject is not one upon which it profits 
 greatly to dwell. 
 
 Moliere's connection with the Bejart family is com- 
 monly believed to have begun some time in 1641 or 
 1642. In June 1643, Madeleine Bejart, with her younger 
 sister Genevieve, and her brothers, Joseph and Louis, 
 joined Moliere and several others in founding the 
 Illustre Theatre. She remained faithful to Moliere's 
 fortunes during those disastrous two years, when the 
 receipts of the new theatre did not suffice to discharge 
 the ordinary working expenses, and its chief was, on one 
 occasion, imprisoned in the Chatelet, until the bill of an 
 
 1 M. Gustave Larroumet, La Comedie de Moliere t I'auteur et le 
 milieu, p. 85-
 
 1 6 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 importunate candle-merchant had been settled. When 
 the company left Paris, in the spring of 1646, on its 
 twelve years' wanderings through the provinces, she ac- 
 companied it, and, in addition to playing in nearly every 
 piece, appears to have superintended the costumes and 
 scenery, and regulated the expenses, at least so far as 
 concerned Moliere and the three other Bejarts. Finally, 
 when Moliere returned to Paris, in 1658, and the 
 company was installed, first, at the Petit-Bourbon and, 
 afterwards, at the Palais-Royal, she retained her place 
 and continued to play regularly down to the time of her 
 death on February 17, 1678, exactly a year before that 
 of Moliere himself. 
 
 An admirable actress, one of the best of her time, 
 according to Tallemant des Raux, ready to undertake 
 almost any role in either tragedy or comedy, she excelled 
 in depicting smartly-attired maids, who ridicule the 
 follies of their employers with equal wit, impudence, 
 and good sense, and, but for her, Moliere might never 
 have created his inimitable soubrettes} She was, more- 
 over, remarkably handsome, tall and graceful, with hair 
 of a peculiarly beautiful blonde hue, and La Fontaine, 
 Loret, and other contemporaries speak of her in terms 
 of unfeigned admiration ; while she seems to have 
 possessed some literary ability, having, when a girl of 
 eighteen, addressed a quatrain to Rotrou, who had just 
 produced his Hercule mourant at the Hotel de Bourgogne 
 which so delighted the dramatist that he published it 
 in an edition of his work and also adapted an old 
 comedy, which was performed by the II lustre Theatre 
 in the provinces. 
 
 That a very warm friendship and regard existed 
 1 Hawkins, "Annals of the French Stage," ii. 61.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLI^RE 17 
 
 between Madeleine and Moliere is certain, nor does what 
 we know of the latter's relations with other ladies of his 
 troupe render a closer connection improbable. In 1653, 
 at Lyons, the Illustre Theatre was strengthened by the 
 accession of two actresses, Mile, du Pare and Mile, de 
 Brie, 1 both destined to rise to eminence in their profession. 
 Moliere promptly fell in love with the former, who, 
 however, rejected his addresses, as she subsequently did 
 those of Pierre Corneille and La Fontaine, upon which 
 the mortified dramatist transferred his attentions to the 
 less attractive, but more sympathetic, Mile, de Brie, and 
 formed with her a liaison which appears to have lasted 
 until his marriage, and was resumed at a later date. 
 
 Under these circumstances, it is scarcely surprising 
 that contemporary gossip should have coupled the names 
 of Moliere and Madeleine together " M. Despreaux 
 
 1 They were both married women and the wives of actors, who 
 joined Moliere's company at the same time. At this period, and indeed 
 for long afterwards, actresses bore officially the title of " demoiselle," as 
 did all women other than the wives of the nobility, or of ennobled 
 citizens, or daughters of noble parents who had married citizens : these 
 were styled "dame" and "madame." Thus, we find Colbert, before 
 he rose to fame, " offering a coach to Mademoiselle, his wife ; " the 
 mother of La BruySre described in a legal document as a " demoiselle 
 veuve " ; while La Fontaine, in his correspondence, invariably refers to 
 his wife as " Mademoiselle." People spoke also of la Du Pare, la de 
 Brie, la Bejart, la Moliere, and so forth, a custom which has continued 
 to this day. This la, which appears so contemptuous, was not the 
 exclusive property of actresses or of women of the people. Madame de 
 Sevigne and Saint-Simon employ it for ladies of the fashionable world, 
 but, by preference, for those of medium virtue : la Beauvais, la 
 Montespan, &c. ; and eighteenth century writers frequently make use 
 of it in referring to the mistresses of Louis XV. : la Chiteauroux, la 
 Pompadour, la Du Barry. Nowadays, however, it is no longer a term 
 of contempt ; " it has become a particle which confers nobility and 
 immortality on great singers and tragediennes, if the race is not extinct." 
 M. J. Noury, La Champmesle, p. 94. 
 
 8
 
 1 8 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 [Boileau] told me," writes Brossette, " that Moliere had 
 been in love with the actress Bejart, whose daughter he 
 espoused," or that many modern writers should have 
 taken the same view. M. Larroumet, we may observe, 
 is of the contrary opinion, but, though generally so 
 correct, he appears in this instance to be arguing from 
 a false premise. He assumes that the Comte de Modene 
 returned to Paris in the summer of 1643 and resumed 
 his former relations with Madeleine, which fact, he says, 
 makes a liaison between her and Moliere altogether 
 improbable. But the count's biographer, M. Chardon, 
 asserts that at the time when M. Larroumet believes 
 Modene to have been in Paris, he was residing on his 
 estates in the Venaissin, and that he did not visit the 
 capital until the autumn of 1646, that is to say, after the 
 Illustre Theatre had left for the provinces. Shortly after 
 this, the count set out with the Due de Guise for Italy, 
 where, as we have mentioned, he remained until 1650^ 
 
 But, after all, the nature of Moliere's relations with 
 Madeleine Bejart subsequent to the birth of Armande 
 is of very secondary importance ; it is on the degree of 
 intimacy existing between them prior to that event that 
 the whole question hinges. That they were at that time 
 anything more than friends possibly only acquaint- 
 ances there is not a shred of evidence to prove ; for the 
 rumours we have spoken of relate mainly to the early 
 years of the Illustre Theatre. Indeed, so little is known 
 about their movements previous to the establishment of 
 that institution that it is impossible to say with any 
 degree of certainty whether their paths in life lay to- 
 gether or far apart at a particular date, much less to 
 
 1 M. Henri Chardon, Nouveaux documents sur la vie de Moliere : 
 M. de Modene, ses deuxfemmes, et Madeleine Bejart.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 19 
 
 hazard an opinion upon so very delicate a matter as the 
 one under discussion. 
 
 M. Larroumet says that from July 1638, when her 
 little daughter, Franchise, was born, until June 1643, 
 when the Illustre Theatre was founded, we lose all trace 
 of Madeleine. This is not quite correct, as on Novem- 
 ber 30, 1639, she appears as marraine at the baptism of 
 her little sister, B6nigne Madeleine, in the parish of Saint- 
 Sauveur, and, six months later (June 5, 1640), we find 
 her discharging the same duty to a child of one Robert 
 de la Voypierre, described as a valet-de-chambre> at the 
 Church of Saint-Sulpice. 1 After that, it is true, nothing 
 more is heard of her for three years. Now, where was 
 she during these three years ? M. Chardon thinks that 
 she was in Paris until the early summer of 1641, and 
 during the remainder of the time that is to say, for the 
 eighteen months or more preceding Armande's birth 
 in the provinces, with a company of strolling players ; 
 and this is the reason he gives for his supposition. 
 
 In May 1641, a friend of the Comte de Modene, 
 Jean Baptiste de 1'Hermite, brother of Tristan de 
 1'Hermite, author of the tragedy of Mariamne, together 
 with his wife and a servant of the count, were^arrested 
 and imprisoned in the Chateau of Vincennes, apparently 
 on a charge of treasonable correspondence with Modene. 
 Thereupon, Madeleine, apprehensive of sharing their fate, 
 her connection with Modene being well known, leaves 
 Paris and joins a company in the provinces, and does not 
 show her face in the capital again until Richelieu and 
 Louis XIII. are both dead, and all danger for the Count 
 and his friends removed. 8 
 
 1 Jal, Dictionnaire critique de Biographic et a" Histoire: Article "Bejart." 
 
 2 M. Henri Chardon, Nouvcaux documents sur la vie de Molierc ; 
 M. de Modene, ses deux femmes, et Madeleine Bejart,
 
 20 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 As for Moliere, he is commonly believed to have 
 spent the year 1642 in Paris, with the exception of the 
 months of May, June, and July, when M. Loiseleur is of 
 opinion that he replaced his father as tapissier valet-de- 
 chambre to the King, who was then returning by easy 
 stages from the conquest of Roussillon. 
 
 Now, if these two theories are correct, as they pro- 
 bably are, it is obvious that, whoever was the father of 
 Madeleine Bejart's child, supposing her to have been 
 the mother of Armande, which few now will be found to 
 maintain, it could not have been Moliere, unless Made- 
 leine was a member of a troupe of strolling players, 
 which performed several times before the Court at 
 Montfrin, during its stay there in the latter part of 
 June, a contingency so remote as to be hardly worth 
 taking into account. With which observations, we 
 hasten to take leave of this most unpleasant subject, 
 and begin our history of Armande Bejart. 
 
 When the Illustre Theatre quitted Paris, in the 
 spring of 1646, Marie Herve and her little daughter 
 accompanied it. It does not appear probable, however, 
 as some writers have supposed, that Armande's early 
 years were passed on the high roads. From what we 
 know of her accomplishments, she must have received a 
 far superior education to that which a little Bohemian 
 could have obtained. According to one account, she 
 lived for some years in Languedoc, " with a lady of dis- 
 tinguished rank in that province," and did not return to 
 her family until 1653, when the company, relatively 
 more stable, had made Lyons its headquarters. Thence- 
 forward Armande's education was carried on under the 
 immediate supervision of Moliere himself, who, as time
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLI&RE 21 
 
 went on, began to take something more than a friendly 
 interest in the progress of his pupil, and ended by falling 
 passionately in love with her. 
 
 Nearly all the biographers of Moliere and Armande 
 agree that Madeleine Bejart was much occupied by this 
 marriage, though they differ widely in the part they 
 assign to her, some asserting that she laboured strenu- 
 ously to prevent it, others that she did her utmost to 
 bring it about. According to Grimarest, one of the 
 oldest of the poet's biographers who believed Madeleine 
 to have been Moliere's mistress, and that she was, 
 moreover, the mother of Armande, though he does not 
 go so far as to attribute the girl's paternity to Moliere 
 Madeleine behaved en femme furieuse, threatened to ruin 
 him, her daughter, and herself, if he persisted in his 
 intention, and that in consequence the lovers were com- 
 pelled to contract a secret marriage. 
 
 On the other hand, the anonymous author of La 
 Fameuse Comedienne, who wrote nearer the event, gives 
 a wholly different version of the affair. According to 
 him or more probably her it is Madeleine who pre- 
 pared and concluded the marriage, by a series of patient 
 and tortuous intrigues, her object being to recover, 
 through Armande, the influence over Moliere of which 
 Mile, de Brie had deprived her. " She did not fail to 
 exaggerate to Moliere the satisfaction he would derive 
 from educating for himself a child whose heart he was 
 sure of possessing, and whose disposition was known to 
 him, and assured him that it was only at that innocent 
 age that one could hope to meet with that sincerity 
 which was found but rarely among persons who had seen 
 the great world. These arguments she often repeated 
 to Moliere, at the same time, adroitly calling his atten-
 
 22 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 tion to that natural delight which her daughter showed 
 whenever she observed him enter the room, and her 
 blind obedience to his wishes. In a word, she conducted 
 the affair so skilfully that he decided that he could not 
 do better than marry the girl." 
 
 These two accounts, remarks M. Larroumet, would 
 appear, at first sight, to be equally unworthy of belief, 
 since they are in direct contradiction to one another. 
 But when we come to examine them more closely, we 
 shall find that, though the worthlessness of Grimarest's 
 version is clearly demonstrated by the fact that Moliere's 
 marriage had nothing secret about it, being indeed cele- 
 brated publicly in the presence of his family and 
 Armande's, that of the author of La Fameuse Comedienne 
 has a basis of truth. Madeleine did, no doubt, play an 
 important part in bringing about the marriage, but the 
 reason which prompted her to do so was very different 
 from that stated by the author. Sincerely attached to 
 both her sister and Moliere, she honestly believed that 
 a marriage between them would be to their common 
 advantage, securing to the one an excellent settlement 
 in life, and to the other a means of escape from the 
 gallantries which served but to add fresh annoyances to 
 the cares imposed upon him by his triple role of play- 
 wright, actor, and manager. She committed a grievous 
 mistake, it is true ; but that she was animated by per- 
 fectly disinterested motives, and did everything in her 
 power to make the marriage a happy one, there can be 
 no question. 1 
 
 With the exception of the drawing reproduced in 
 this volume, there does not appear to be any portrait of 
 Armande, painted or engraved, the authenticity of which 
 
 1 M. Larrouraet, La Comedie Je Mo/iere, 105 et seq.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfiRE 23 
 
 is beyond dispute. But, as some atonement for this, 
 several excellent pen-portraits have come down to us. 
 The most interesting of these is, of course, the one traced 
 by Moliere's own hand in that exquisite little scene 
 between Cleonte and Covielle in the third act of the 
 Bourgeois gentilhomme, where Armande plays the part of 
 the charming Lucile. Cleonte, incensed by Lucile's 
 seeming indifference, determines to break with her, and 
 calls upon the valet to " assist him in his resentment and 
 sustain his resolution against every remnant of affection 
 that may yet plead for her. ' Say, I entreat you, all 
 the harm that you can of her. Make of her person a 
 picture that shall render her contemptible in my sight, 
 and, to disgust me with her, point out all the faults that 
 you can see in her.' ' 
 
 Smarting under the rebuff just administered to him 
 by Lucile's waiting-woman, Nicole, who follows the 
 example of her mistress, Covielle readily obeys, and 
 proceeds to draw a most unflattering portrait of the 
 young lady. But no sooner does the valet point out 
 some fault in Lucile than his love-lorn master straight- 
 way transforms it into a trait of beauty, with an ever- 
 increasing anger and impatience. 
 
 Covielle. " To begin with, her eyes are small." 
 
 C Monte. " That is true ; her eyes are small, but then 
 they are full of fire the most brilliant, the most 
 piercing in the world, the tenderest that one can 
 possibly see." 
 
 Covielle. " She has a large mouth." 
 
 Cttonte. " Yes ; but one finds there charms which 
 one does not find in other mouths ; and that mouth, 
 when one beholds it, inspires desire ; it is the most 
 attractive, the most adorable in the world."
 
 24 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Covielle. "As for her figure, she is not tall." 
 
 Cttontc. " No ; but she is supple and well-propor- 
 tioned." 
 
 Covielle. "She affects a carelessness in her speech 
 and deportment." 
 
 Cttonte. " It is true, but there is grace in all ; and 
 her manners are engaging and have a nameless charm 
 which insinuates itself into our hearts." 
 
 Covielle. " As to her wit " 
 
 Cttonte. "Ah! she has that, Covielle; the finest 
 and most delicate kind." 
 
 Covielle. " Her conversation " 
 
 Cleonte. " Her conversation is charming." 
 
 Covielle. " It is always serious." 
 
 Cleonte. " Would you have unrestrained liveliness 
 and boisterous gaiety ? Is there anything more annoy- 
 ing than women who laugh at every word that is 
 spoken ? " 
 
 Covielle. " But, after all, she is as capricious as any 
 person you can find." 
 
 CUonte. " Yes, she is capricious ; there I agree with 
 you ; but everything is becoming to, and must be borne 
 with from, the fair." 
 
 The fidelity of the aforegoing portrait is confirmed 
 by other contemporary evidence. Examined in detail, it 
 would appear that Armande's features were far from 
 perfect, but that the ensemble was fascinating to a very 
 remarkable degree. Mile. Poisson, in a Lettre sur 
 la vie et les ceuvres de Moliere et les comediens de son 
 temps, which she contributed to the Mercure of 1740, 
 describes her as " of middle height," with " very small 
 eyes," and " a large flat mouth " ; but adds that she had 
 " an engaging air," and " performed every action with
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ARMANDE BEJART 
 
 From an etching by J. HANRIOT, after a contemporary drawing in the collection 
 of M. HENRY HOUSSAYE, of the Academic Fran9aise
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLI^RE 25 
 
 grace." The elder Grandval is in accord with Mile. 
 Poisson : " Without being beautiful, she was piquant and 
 capable of inspiring a grande -passion" While a bitter 
 enemy of Armande, the anonymous author of La Fameuse 
 Comedienne, while denying her " aucun trait de beaute" is 
 fain to admit that her appearance and manners rendered 
 her very amiable in the opinion of many people, and that 
 she was " very affecting when she wished to please." 
 
 That Armande should have triumphed so completely 
 over physical deficiencies was probably due, to some ex- 
 tent, to the perfection of her toilettes. " No one," the 
 brothers Parfaict tell us, in their Histoire du Thedtre 
 Franfais, " knew better than she how to enhance the 
 beauty of her face by the arrangement of her coiffure, or 
 of her figure by the fashion of her costume." And 
 Mile. Poisson records that she " showed most remark- 
 able taste and invariably opposed to the mode of the 
 time." She seems indeed to have had some claim to 
 be considered the arbitrix of feminine taste in dress, for 
 the Mercure galant of 1673 ascribes to her the credit of 
 a radical reform in ladies' toilettes, nothing less than the 
 substitution of gowns, " tout unis sur le corps, de la maniere 
 que la taille par ait plus belle" for the majestic but some- 
 what heavy costume hitherto in vogue, which concealed 
 beneath its too ample folds the graceful lines of the 
 figure. 
 
 If Armande, as a woman, was an object of admiration 
 to her contemporaries, as an actress, she aroused in them 
 something very like enthusiasm. It would indeed have 
 been a matter for surprise had it been otherwise, since 
 she enjoyed advantages which fall to the lot of very few. 
 She came of a family which had already contributed
 
 26 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 several finished performers to the French stage, and 
 " had in her blood the passion and instinct of the 
 theatre." With her charm of manner and exquisite taste 
 in dress, she combined many accomplishments : " she had 
 a very pretty voice, sang with great taste in both French 
 and Italian, and danced ravishingly." She had received 
 a long and careful training from one who was perhaps 
 an even better teacher than he was an actor, and who was 
 as ambitious for her success as for his own. And, finally, 
 nearly all her parts certainly all her more important 
 parts were written by Moliere with the express object 
 of enabling her to display her abilities to the best 
 advantage. 
 
 Lacking the dignity and strength required to give 
 adequate expression to the greater passions, she wisely 
 refrained from attempting any important roles in tragedy, 
 and in Racine's Alexandre and the Attila of Corneille we 
 find her allotted only minor parts. But at the Palais- 
 Royal comedy was, of course, the staple fare, and in 
 " les roles de femmes coquettes et satiriques" which accorded 
 so well with her own temperament, and also in those of 
 inge'nues, Armande had no superior in her day and pro- 
 bably very few since. Her acting is said to have been 
 characterised by great judgment, while her by-play was 
 remarkably effective. " If she but retouches her hair, 
 or rearranges her ribbons or her jewellery, these little 
 fashions conceal a satire judicious and natural, and throw 
 ridicule upon the women she wishes to represent." 
 Moreover, she had the rare gift of being able to change 
 at will the character of her voice, and "had a different 
 tone for every part she undertook." 
 
 Moliere's wise reluctance to allow his young wife 
 to challenge the verdict of the public until he had done
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLI&RE 27 
 
 everything in his power to ensure her success, delayed 
 Armande's first appearance on the stage for fifteen 
 months after her marriage, when she made her debut as 
 Elise in the Critique de FEcole des femmes (June I, 1663), 
 a reply to the attacks of Donneau de Vise and other 
 critics upon the play produced at the Palais-Royal the 
 previous December. The part allotted to her, which is 
 that of a self-possessed young woman, with a good deal 
 of shrewd common-sense, a turn for irony of a rather 
 caustic brand, and not too much consideration for the 
 feelings of others, suited her admirably perhaps rather 
 more so than poor Moliere at that time imagined and 
 secured her a somewhat similar role in the delightful 
 Impromptu de Versailles, played before the Court in the 
 following October, where she figures in the cast as a 
 " satirical wit." She did not play in the Manage force 
 (January 29, 1664), as, ten days earlier, she had borne 
 Moliere a son, to whom, as we have mentioned, Louis XIV. 
 and Henrietta of England stood sponsors ; but in the 
 following spring we find her in the first of her long list 
 of important roles. 
 
 At the beginning of May 1664, Louis XIV. enter- 
 tained the Queen-mother, Anne of Austria, and his own 
 consort, Maria Theresa, with a brilliant and sumptuous 
 fte, or rather succession of f6tes, at Versailles, which was 
 then, of course, still only the little country-house built 
 by Louis XIII., occupying to-day the bottom of the Cour 
 de Marbre. The ftes, which were denominated Les 
 Plaisirs de rile enchantee, as the plan adopted was 
 suggested by the sixth and seventh cantos of Ariosto's 
 Orlando Furioso, which describe the sojourn of Rogero 
 (impersonated by the King) in the isle and palace of the 
 enchantress Alcena, began on the yth of the month and
 
 28 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 lasted a week ; stately processions, tilting, displays of 
 fireworks, balls, and magnificent banquets alternating 
 with theatrical performances. On the 8th, Moliere's 
 troupe gave a comedy ballet, called the Princesse d 1 Elide, 
 composed for the occasion, by their chief, at the special 
 request of the King, and the role of the princess was 
 taken by Armande. The play, the subject of which was 
 borrowed from the Spanish dramatist Moreto's El Desden 
 con el Desden (Scorn for Scorn), is the story of a fair 
 princess, who until then had professed to despise love 
 and had driven her innumerable suitors to despair, but 
 who suddenly finds herself wounded to the heart by the 
 skilfully feigned indifference to her charms shown by 
 Euryale, Prince of Ithaca, who ultimately succeeds in 
 winning her hand. Though far from being one of 
 Moliere's happiest efforts, as it was hastily strung 
 together the first act and the commencement of the 
 first scene of the second are in verse, and the rest in 
 prose while the author's natural flow of wit and 
 humour was checked by the necessity of accommodat- 
 ing himself to courtly conventions, it met with a very 
 favourable reception, and, moreover, served to establish 
 Armande's reputation as an actress. This was, no doubt, 
 Moliere's intention, as the whole play appears to have 
 been conceived expressly to bring into relief the young 
 lady's various accomplishments her taste in dress, her 
 charming voice, and her graceful dancing and the 
 enamoured Euryale declaims in her honour a portrait 
 of the most flattering description : " She is, in truth, 
 adorable at all times ; but at that moment she was more 
 so than ever, and new charms redoubled the splendour 
 of her beauty. Never was her face adorned with more 
 lovely colours ; never were her eyes armed with swifter
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLI^RE 29 
 
 or more piercing shafts. The sweetness of her voice 
 showed itself in the perfectly charming air which she 
 deigned to sing ; and the marvellous tones she uttered 
 penetrated to the very depth of my soul and held all my 
 senses in a rapture from which they were powerless to 
 escape. She next showed a disposition altogether divine ; 
 her lovely feet on the enamel of the soft turf danced 
 delightful steps, which carried me quite beyond myself 
 and bound me by irresistible bonds to the easy and 
 accurate movements with which her whole body followed 
 those harmonious motions." 
 
 On the three concluding days of the fetes, the 
 Fdcheux, the first three acts of Tartuffe^ and the Mariage 
 ford were in turn represented. It is uncertain what 
 parts were allotted Armande in the first and third of 
 these plays, but in the much discussed Tartuffe^ now 
 played for the first time, she again filled the leading 
 feminine role. How she fared on this occasion we have 
 unfortunately no information ; but when, in February 
 1669, the interdict under which Tartuffe had so long 
 lain was at length withdrawn and the piece produced at 
 the Palais-Royal, the rhyming chronicle of Robinet speaks 
 in eulogistic terms of her performance of Elmire. 
 
 In the meanwhile, she had successfully created other 
 important parts : Lucinde in the Medecin malgre /#/', 
 Angelique in George Dandin, and Elise in r Avare^ and, on 
 June 4, 1666, the greatest of all her triumphs the role 
 of Celimene in the famous comedy of the Misanthrope. 
 
 " Celimene," says M. Larroumet, " is the type of 
 woman the most original and the most complete which 
 the genius of Moliere has evolved. Eternal temptation 
 of actresses, those who have attempted it may be called 
 legion, those who have succeeded in making themselves
 
 3 o QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 mistresses of it form a select group, admired, envied. 
 Such an actress of genius as Rachel failed here miserably, 
 and a true Celimene, like Mile. Mars, is sure of trans- 
 mitting her name to posterity. One has noted, however, 
 the tones and gestures of the great interpreters of the 
 part ; tradition preserves them, and they point out the 
 way. But an intelligent pupil will readily make herself 
 acquainted with all that can be learned ; if she does not 
 evolve from her own resources the sentiment of the 
 character, she will only swell the alarming number of 
 vain attempts which theatrical history records. Celimene 
 is twenty years of age, and her experience is that of a 
 woman of forty. Coquettish and feline with Alceste, 
 frivolous and back-biting with the little marquises, cruelly 
 ironical with Arsinoe, in each act, in each scene, she 
 shows herself under a different aspect. Contemporary, 
 or very nearly so, of Mesdames de Chatillon, de Luynes, 
 de Monaco, de Soubise, and the nieces of Mazarin, she 
 ought to awaken a vague memory of these great names ; 
 she is the exquisite and rare product of an aristocratic 
 civilisation in the full splendour of its development, and 
 often she speaks a language of almost plebeian candour 
 and acerbity. In the salon where she reigns, she ought 
 to convey the . idea of perfect ease and supreme dis- 
 tinction ; and in the denouement she submits to a cruel 
 humiliation without the possibility of revenge ; she 
 makes her exit vanquished at all points, and, even then> 
 she ought to lose nothing of her haughty bearing and her 
 tranquil smile." 1 
 
 It will thus be readily understood that an actress 
 who could be trusted to create such a part must have 
 truly been a great artist, and Armande secured a brilliant 
 
 1 La Comedie de Molicre, p. 134.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLI^RE 31 
 
 triumph. Her performance was " a charm " and " an 
 ecstasy," Robinet tells us; and though Robinet was in 
 the habit of dealing somewhat freely in such expressions, 
 we have no reason to doubt that on this occasion he 
 faithfully reflects the opinion of the audience. 
 
 But, after all, we can hardly wonder at the young 
 actress's success, since she had only to be perfectly natural 
 to realise the author's whole idea of his heroine. For 
 what is Celimene but a finished portrait of Armande 
 herself? Celimene is " la grande coquette par excellence" 
 surrounded by a crowd of admirers wherever she goes. 
 Armande, unhappily for Moliere's peace of mind, seems 
 to have enjoyed very much the same reputation. Celi- 
 mene depends for her fascination not so much on beauty 
 of face or form as on her expression, her smile, her 
 manners, her conversation ; " elle a fart de me plaire" 
 says the infatuated Alceste. Armande possessed the 
 same kind of attractions, and was " very affecting when 
 she wished to please." Celimene is haughty and im- 
 perious. " It is my wish ; it is my wish," she cries 
 when Alceste hesitates to comply with her demands. 
 *' Armande," says a contemporary, " could not brook 
 contradiction, and pretended that a lover ought to be 
 as submissive as a slave." In fact, so perfect is the 
 resemblance that even if the circumstances, of which we 
 shall presently speak, did not preclude all reasonable 
 doubt about the matter, few would be found to deny 
 that the heroine of the Misanthrope was drawn from life. 
 
 Among Armande's other roles may be mentioned 
 the capricious and charming Lucile of the Bourgeois 
 gentilhomme, in which Moliere drew the well-known 
 portrait of his wife which we have already cited ; the 
 title-part in the famous " tragedy-ballet " of Psyche, one
 
 32 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 of the most remarkable instances of collaboration in 
 dramatic history, 1 in which she appeared in a different 
 costume in each of its five acts a very unusual extrava- 
 gance in those days and is described by the enthusi- 
 astic Robinet as " marvellous " and " playing divinely " ; 
 Henriette in the Fcmmes savantes, " the model of an 
 honest, sensible, and well-brought-up young lady ; " and 
 finally, Angelique in Moliere's swan-song, the Malade 
 imaginatre, perhaps, next to Celimene, her most finished 
 impersonation. 
 
 But great as were the dramatic talents of Armande 
 Bejart, they count for comparatively little in the 
 curiosity which her name arouses. It is her moral 
 character, her private life, her relations with her famous 
 husband, which have exercised the minds of the bio- 
 graphers of Moliere for upwards of two centuries. On 
 these matters even more ink has been expended than 
 on the vexed question of her birth, and with far less 
 satisfactory results. To the great majority of writers 
 Armande was an unworthy wife, who repaid the kind- 
 ness and affection lavished upon her by the great man 
 whose name she bore with ingratitude and contumely ; 
 while there are not wanting those who go so far as to 
 accuse her of the grossest infidelity, and to assert that 
 her misconduct was in some measure responsible for the 
 dramatist's untimely death. When, however, we come 
 to sift the evidence against her, we shall find that these 
 extreme views are based on very insufficient or very 
 
 1 Moliere was responsible for the plot, the prologue, the first act, 
 and the first scenes of the second and third acts ; Quinault contributed 
 all the lyrical matter, with the exception of the Italian plainte, which, 
 like the muiic, was by Lulli ; Pierre Corneille wrote the rest.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLI&RE 33 
 
 suspicious testimony, and that one thing only has been 
 clearly established, namely, that she rendered Moliere's 
 later years very unhappy. But what was the true cause 
 of his unhappiness, whether occasioned by actual mis- 
 conduct on the part of Armande, or merely by an ever 
 present dread that such must be the inevitable termina- 
 tion of one or other of the very imprudent flirtations in 
 which she appears to have been continually indulging, is 
 very difficult, nay, well-nigh impossible, to determine. 
 
 It has always been a favourite practice with bio- 
 graphers of Moliere and historians of the French theatre 
 to affect to discover more or less direct allusions to the 
 dramatist's relations with his wife in several of his plays : 
 the Ecole des femmes, the Impromptu de Versailles^ the 
 Manage force, George Dandin, and, of course, the Misan- 
 thrope. That this is true of the last-named play cannot, 
 we think, be disputed ; but in regard to the others, we 
 are inclined to believe that the significance of the passages 
 and episodes on which their contention rests have been 
 a good deal exaggerated. 
 
 Let us begin with the Ecole des femmes, the first in 
 chronological order. Here, as in the Ecole des maris, 
 Moliere turns to the ethics of marriage for his materials. 
 Arnolphe, a middle-aged bachelor, disgusted by the lack 
 of fidelity among the married women he sees around 
 him, comes to the conclusion that the only safeguard 
 of a wife's honour is extreme ignorance. No young 
 woman should know anything beyond her household 
 and religious duties ; her reading is to be confined to the 
 Bible and the Maxims of Marriage ; her only objects in 
 life are to be the salvation of her soul and the comfort 
 and happiness of her husband. In order to put his 
 theory to the test, he adopts a little girl called Agnes,
 
 34 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 and has her carefully brought up in the most complete 
 seclusion, with the intention of making her his wife 
 when she shall have reached a suitable age. But, 
 unfortunately for him for he falls genuinely in love 
 with his ward the damsel's very simplicity proves his 
 undoing ; she bestows her affections upon a young 
 gallant, Horace by name, and poor Arnolphe is left 
 lamenting the downfall of his hopes. 
 
 We have outlined this plot of the play, which is 
 doubtless familiar to many, as several writers have 
 assumed that Moliere has depicted himself in the role 
 of Arnolphe and Armande in that of Agnes ; but 
 beyond the fact that both Moliere and his hero them- 
 selves supervised the education of their intended wives, 
 there does not seem to be the slightest ground for such 
 a supposition. In the first place, Moliere espoused the 
 woman of his choice ; while Arnolphe sees his cherished 
 scheme come to nothing, through the appearance on 
 the scene of the youthful Horace. In the second, the 
 brilliant and witty Armande bears as little resemblance 
 to the unsophisticated Agnes as does her liberal-minded 
 husband to the tyrannical guardian. And, lastly, to 
 ask us to believe that only ten months after his marriage, 
 with the glamour of the honeymoon still upon him, 
 Moliere could have intended an unsympathetic character 
 like Agnes to represent his wife, is to make too great 
 a call upon our credulity. 
 
 In the Impromptu de Versailles a good deal has been 
 made of the little quarrel between the author and his 
 wife, which the former introduces at the beginning of 
 the play. The company is supposed to be rehearsing 
 a new comedy, commanded by the King at two hours' 
 notice, and to be causing its chief no little trouble.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 35 
 
 Mademoiselle Moliere. " Shall I tell you what it is ? 
 You ought to have written a play which you could have 
 acted all alone." 
 
 Moliere. " Be silent, wife ; you are a fool." 
 
 Mademoiselle Moliere. " Thank you, my lord and 
 husband ; that just shows what it is to be married, and 
 how strangely wedlock alters people. You would not 
 have said that eighteen months ago." 
 
 Moliere. " Pray be silent." 
 
 Mademoiselle Moliere. " It is an odd thing that a 
 trifling ceremony should be capable of depriving us of 
 all our good qualities, and that a husband and a lover 
 should regard the same person with such different eyes." 
 
 Moliere. " What loquacity ! " 
 
 Mademoiselle Moliere. " 'Faith ! if I were to write 
 a play, it would be upon that subject. I would justify 
 women in many things of which they are accused, and 
 I would make husbands afraid of the contrast between 
 their abrupt manners and the courtesy of lovers." 
 
 Here, we are told by certain critics, the inference 
 is unmistakable ; Moliere clearly foresees the fate which 
 awaits him. In our opinion, they are wrong. In the 
 Impromptu de Versailles, Moliere and his wife do not, 
 as in an ordinary play, represent fictitious characters ; 
 they appear under their own names. In these circum- 
 stances, it is surely inconceivable that the dramatist should 
 have introduced this dialogue, if he had for one moment 
 imagined it applicable to his own affairs ! The very 
 fact that he was so ready to jest upon such a subject 
 seems to us a conclusive proof that up to that time, 
 at least, Armande's conduct had given him but scant 
 cause for uneasiness. 
 
 The Manage force and George Dandin, the former
 
 36 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 produced early in the year 1664, when the difference of 
 age and of character between Moliere and his wife was 
 no doubt beginning to produce its fatal consequences, 
 and the latter in the summer of 1667, after their 
 separation, of which we shall speak in due course, had 
 actually taken place, contain more direct allusions to 
 their author's manage. Sganarelle, like Moliere, had 
 believed himself " le plus content des hommes" only to be 
 roughly disillusioned when the carefully brought up 
 Dorimene frankly avows her passion for " toutes les choses 
 de plaisir" play, visiting, assemblies, entertainments, 
 and so forth at the same time expressing a hope that 
 he does not intend to be one of those inconvenient 
 husbands who desire their wives to live " comme des loup- 
 garous" since solitude drives her to despair, but that 
 they may dwell together as a pair " qui savent leur monde." 
 Angelique, in her turn, complains to George Dandin of 
 the tyranny exercised by husbands "who wish their 
 wives to be dead to all amusements, and to live only 
 for them." She has no desire, she tells him, to die 
 young, but " intends to enjoy, under his good pleasure, 
 some of the glad days that youth has to offer her, to 
 take advantage of the sweet liberties that the age permits 
 her, to see a little of the beau monde^ and to taste the 
 pleasure of hearing her praises sung." 
 
 All this is certainly reminiscent of Armande, who, 
 according to Grimarest, was no sooner married than 
 she "believed herself a duchess," affected a coquettish 
 manner with the idle gallants who flocked to pay court 
 to her, and turned a deaf ear to the warnings of her 
 husband, whose lessons appeared to her " too severe for 
 a young person who, besides, had nothing wherewith to 
 reproach herself." But the resemblance in the situations
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 37 
 
 goes no further. If Dorimene, in her craving for 
 " toutes les choses de plaisir" and Angelique, in her im- 
 perious temper and cold irony, bear some relation to 
 Armande, the foolish and cowardly Sganarelle, who 
 allows himself to be cudgelled by Dorimene's brother, 
 Lycidas, into a marriage which he knows must bring 
 him unhappiness, has nothing, save his age, in common 
 with Moliere ; while the aspiring farmer, George Dandin, 
 marrying not for love, but for social position, and de- 
 servedly punished for his snobbishness, is as far removed 
 from his creator as Tartuffe or Monsieur Jourdain. 
 
 When we come to the Misanthrope, the similarity 
 between fiction and reality is too striking to admit of 
 any doubt as to the author's intentions. It is true that 
 a distinguished English critic 1 professes to see in this 
 play, as in Don Garde de Navarre Moliere's one 
 failure, produced the year before his marriage, and 
 withdrawn after a run of five nights the outcome of 
 the actor-dramatist's " desire of indulging his humour 
 of seriousness and a determination to example his elocu- 
 tionary theories in verse that, without being actually 
 tragic and heroic, should have something in it of the 
 tragic and heroic quality." But, though the large 
 number of verses from Don Garde which Moliere has 
 incorporated with his role of Alceste would seem to lend 
 some confirmation to this theory, the fact remains that 
 writers are practically unanimous in regarding the Mis- 
 anthrope as, primarily, a pathetic autobiography of its 
 author under the cloak of fiction. " This Celimene, so 
 frivolous and so charming, so dangerous and so seduc- 
 tive, this incorrigible coquette, who does not understand 
 what a noble heart she is wounding even unto death : 
 
 1 Mr. W. E. Henley in the Cornhill Magazine, xli. 445.
 
 38 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 is not this Armande Bejart, embellished by all the love 
 and all the genius of Moliere? And Alceste ; who is 
 he? At the first representations people believed that 
 they recognised the Due de Montausier, and the Due de 
 Montausier remarked, with good reason : ' I thank you ; 
 it is a great honour.' But we, for our part, recognise 
 Moliere. This misanthrope is something more than an 
 honourable gentleman at odds with the world. He is 
 a great genius misunderstood, who endures and waits ; 
 he is a passionate sage, an honest man with a great and 
 excellent heart.'' 1 
 
 In the Misanthrope, Moliere has given to Climene all 
 the coquetry, the egoism, and the caustic wit which 
 belonged to Armande ; to his own role all the weak- 
 ness of a high-minded man struggling vainly against his 
 passion for an unworthy object. " The love I bear for 
 her," says Alceste 
 
 " Ne ferme point mes yeux aux deTauts qu'on lui trouve ; 
 Et je suis, quelque ardeur qu'elle m'ait pu dormer, 
 Le premier i les voirs, comme a les condamner. 
 Mais, avec tout cela, quoi que je puis faire, 
 Je confesse mon foible ; elle a 1'art de me plaire ; 
 J'ai beau voir ses defauts, et j'ai beau Ten blamer, 
 En depit qu'on en ait, elle se fait aimer ; 
 Sa grace est la plus forte, et, sans doute, ma flamme 
 De ces vices du temps pourra purger son ame." 
 
 There are moments indeed in the play when it almost 
 ceases to belong to the realm of fiction. The scene, 
 for instance, in the fourth act, when Alceste, holding 
 in his hand the proof of Celimene's perfidy, the letter 
 written by her to his rival, Oronte, calls upon her " to 
 justify herself at least of a crime that overwhelms him," 
 
 1 Gaboriau's Les comediennes adorees, 269.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLIERE 39 
 
 and to do her best to appear faithful, while he, on his 
 side, will do his best to believe her such ; and Celimene 
 tartly refuses 
 
 " Allez, vous etes fou, dans vos transports jaloux, 
 Et ne meVitez pas 1'amour qu'on a pour vous. 
 
 Allez, de tels soupcons meritent ma colere, 
 Et vous ne valez pas que Ton vous considere : 
 Je suis sotte, et veux mal a ma simplicit, 
 De conserver, encor, pour vous, quelque bonte" ; 
 Je devrois, autre part, attacher mon estime 
 Et vous faire un sujet de plainte legitime," 
 
 may well have had its parallel in their own lives. And 
 few, again, can doubt the sincerity with which the lover 
 must have uttered the lines, 
 
 " Je fais tout mon possible 
 A rompre de ce coeur 1'attachement terrible ; 
 Mais mes plus grands efforts n'ont rien fait jusqu'ici, 
 Et c'est pour mes peches que je vous aime ainsi." 
 
 "We might well say without exaggeration of this 
 Climene," remarks August Wilhelm von Schlegel,* 
 "that there is not a single good point in her whole 
 composition." This may be so ; but, as M. Larroumet 
 is careful to point out, there is really nothing in the 
 Misanthrope which gives us the right to assume that 
 Armande was anything worse than an incorrigible 
 coquette. " Celimene is impeccable ; she has neither 
 heart nor feeling." Nor do the remainder of Moliere's 
 plays furnish any fresh proof against Armande ; they, 
 on the contrary, strengthen the impression that, while 
 he suffered much from his wife's character, he never 
 
 1 " Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature." 
 
 2 La Comedic de Moliere, p. 1 46.
 
 40 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 believed her to have been guilty of anything which might 
 affect his honour. 
 
 This impression seems to have been that of the 
 poet's contemporaries. Moliere had, as we know, many 
 enemies unscrupulous enemies, who did not hesitate to 
 launch against him the most hideous of accusations. 
 We can hardly doubt that had there been any reason- 
 able ground for believing Armande guilty of something 
 more than coquetry, the Montfleurys, Le Boulanger de 
 Chalussay and the rest, would have been only too ready 
 to avail themselves of such an opportunity of humiliating 
 the man whom they so bitterly hated. Yet though, like 
 all the rest of the world, they were aware of Moliere's 
 jealous nature, and made this weakness the object of 
 their unsparing ridicule, none of them went so far as 
 to accuse him of being that which he appears to have 
 been in incessant dread of becoming. At most, their 
 works contain only vague hints and insinuations, to 
 which little or no attention seems to have been paid ; 
 and it is probable that Armande's name would have gone 
 down to posterity without any very serious stain upon 
 it, had she not chanced to be made the victim of one of 
 the most audacious and malignant libels ever penned. 
 
 Among the swarm of scurrilous brochures, ficti- 
 tious histories, and stupid romances in the French lan- 
 guage which issued from the foreign press during the 
 decade which followed the Protestant emigration of 
 1685, was a little book, or rather pamphlet, written for 
 the delectation of those persons who are always ready 
 to welcome anything calculated to gratify their curiosity 
 about the private affairs of stage celebrities. This book, 
 published anonymously at Frankfort, in 1688, by one 
 Rottenberg, a bookseller who made a speciality of such
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 41 
 
 sensational works, 1 bore the title of La Fameuse Coml- 
 dienne^ ou Histoire de la Guerin, Guerin being the name 
 of Armande Bejart's second husband, whom she married 
 in 1677. Although the demand for it was considerable, 
 and five editions were printed within ten years of the 
 date of its publication, the charges against Armande 
 which it contained do not appear to have been taken 
 very seriously, except among the class of readers for 
 whom it was written, until, in 1697, it occurred to 
 Bayle, who had a weakness for piquant anecdotes about 
 notable persons, to include certain passages in his famous 
 Dictionary, since which few of the biographers of Moliere 
 have failed to borrow more or less freely from its pages, 
 with most unfortunate results to the reputation of the 
 dramatist's wife. 
 
 The authorship of the Fameuse Comedienne remains a 
 mystery to this day, though contemporary gossip, or 
 historians in search of some new sensation, have attri- 
 
 1 The first edition, now Tery rare, a copy of which is in the possession 
 of the British Museum, contains a " foreword " from the bookseller to the 
 reader, which is so curious that we make no apology for transcribing it : 
 
 '* I know neither the author of this history, nor the hand from 
 whence it came to me. A courier who, in passing through this town, 
 purchased some books at my shop, made me a present of it, and assured 
 me that it is true in every detail. I believe it to be incumbent upon me 
 to give this present to the public, in order that it may share the principal 
 adventures of this famous actress, as celebrated by her coquetry as by the 
 reputation of the late Moliere, her first husband. 
 
 "The same courier assured me that the author of this history has 
 included therein only the chief adventures which happened to this actress, 
 having passed over an infinity of other little amorous incidents, as trifles 
 unworthy of his book or his heroine. I am persuaded that there is not 
 an actress in France whose career would not afford sufficient material for 
 a similar history. But, while we await their appearance, I give you this 
 one, precisely as it came into my hands, without adding or subtracting 
 anything. May it afford you diversion ! Adieu."
 
 42 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 buted it successively to a number of persons : La 
 Fontaine, Racine, Chapelle, Blot, the chansonnier of the 
 Fronde, Rosimont, an actor of the Rue Guenegaud, 
 Mile. Guyot, a member of the same company, and 
 Mile. Boudin, a provincial actress, who would appear to 
 have been at one time on terms of intimacy with Armande. 
 With regard to the first five of these suppositions, we will 
 merely remark that neither La Fontaine, Racine, nor 
 Chapelle were capable of committing such an infamy ; 
 that Blot had been in his grave more than thirty years at 
 the time of the publication of the libel ascribed to him, 
 and that the chief argument advanced by M. Charles 
 Livet, the editor of the latest edition of the Fameuse 
 Comedienne, in favour of Rosimont, namely, a resemblance 
 between the style of the book and a theological work 
 entitled La Vie des Saints, which he published in 1680, 
 seems to us too fanciful to merit any serious consideration. 
 In the cases of Mesdemoiselles Guyot and Boudin, there 
 is again a total absence of anything like adequate proof; 
 nevertheless, though they are both in all probability guilt- 
 less, strong grounds exist for believing the book to be 
 the work of one of Armande's professional rivals, as the 
 intimate acquaintance with theatrical life which it reveals 
 precludes all doubt as to the vocation of the writer ; 
 while the preponderating place it allots to women, the 
 manner in which it speaks of men, the jealous hatred 
 which inspires it, the finesse of some of its remarks, its 
 style and method, all denote a feminine hand. 1 
 
 Atrocious libel though the Fameuse Comedienne un- 
 doubtedly is, it is very far from destitute of that literary 
 merit in which even the works of the most obscure writers 
 of the great epoch of French prose are seldom lacking, and, 
 
 1 M. Gustave Larroumet, La Comedie de Moliere, p. 149.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 43 
 
 moreover, contains not a little interesting and authentic 
 information about the public career of Moliere and his 
 wife. But that is all that can be said in its favour. 
 " Possessed," remarks M. Larroumet, " by a ferocious 
 hatred against Armande, hatred of the woman and the 
 actress, the writer has only one object to render her 
 odious. What she knows of the actions of her enemy 
 she perverts or, at any rate, exaggerates ; what she does 
 not know she invents. He who wishes to injure a man 
 attributes to him acts of indecency or cowardice ; he who 
 wishes to injure a woman gives her lovers ; these are the 
 surest means. Thus our author makes of Armande a 
 Messalina, and a Messalina of the baser sort, one who 
 sells her favours." 
 
 Unfortunately for the object which the libeller has 
 in view, she does not content herself with general charges ; 
 she makes formal accusations, which she endeavours to 
 substantiate, and the book abounds in letters, conversa- 
 tions, details about matters which could not possibly 
 have been known, save to the parties immediately con- 
 cerned, with the result that her attack fails miserably, 
 and the judicious reader very speedily perceives that 
 the work is nothing but a collection of scandalous anec- 
 dotes, which, when not controverted by positive facts, sin 
 grievously against probability. 
 
 However, as all readers are not judicious, and as the 
 book has imposed on several historians of deservedly high 
 reputation, 1 it may be as well for us, in the interests 
 
 1 Among the writers who accept wholly, or in part, the statements of 
 La Fameuse Comedienne may be mentioned Grimarest, Taschereau, M. 
 Loiseleur, and Gaboriau, though the last-named writer ought not perhaps 
 to be taken very seriously. The article on Armande in Mr. Sutherland 
 Edwards's " Idols of the French Stage " hitherto, we believe, the only 
 attempt to give any detailed account of the actress in English is ad- 
 mittedly largely based on the information contained in this libel.
 
 44 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 of truth, to follow the example of M. Bazin and M. 
 Larroumet, and devote some little space to an examina- 
 tion of the charges which have brought so much un- 
 merited odium upon the memory of Armande Bejart. 
 
 The first lover attributed to Armande is the Abbe de 
 Richelieu, great-nephew of the famous cardinal, a gentle- 
 man of a very gallant disposition, with a marked predi- 
 lection for actresses : " There was no one at the Court 
 who did not endeavour to gain her favours. The Abbe 
 de Richelieu was one of the first who determined to make 
 her his mistress. As he was very liberal, while the young 
 lady was very fond of expenditure, the matter was soon 
 concluded. It was agreed that he should give her four 
 pistoles (about forty francs) a day, without counting 
 clothes and entertainments. The abbe did not fail to 
 send her every morning, by a page, the pledge of their 
 treaty, and to go and visit her every afternoon." 
 
 Now, as M. Larroumet points out, if this story is to 
 be accepted, we must either believe Moliere to have been 
 ignorant of the comings and goings of the page and the 
 abbe, or that he was aware of and tolerated them : two 
 suppositions equally inadmissible. Moreover, if we 
 consult the dates, the improbability becomes an impossi- 
 bility. Armande was married on February 20, 1662, 
 and on January 19, 1664, she bore Moliere a son. The 
 intrigue must then have taken place between these two 
 periods which is to make her infidelity begin at a very 
 early date since M. Bazin tells us that the Abbe de 
 Richelieu left France in March 1664 with the expedi- 
 tion organised to defend Hungary against the Turks, 
 and died at Venice on January 9, 1665. That, how- 
 ever, does not prevent the Fameuse Comedienne from 
 making his liaison with Mile. Moliere last until the
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 45 
 
 production of the Princesse d* Elide ; a play which was 
 not performed until May 8, 1664, some weeks after his 
 departure. 
 
 On to the supposed intrigue between Armande and 
 the abbe, the anonymous author next proceeds to graft 
 a new and double adventure : " This affair lasted for 
 some months without trouble ; but Moliere having 
 written the Princesse d'Elide, in which the Moliere 
 played the princess, which was the first important role 
 she had filled, because Mademoiselle du Pare played 
 them all and was the heroine of the theatre, she created 
 such a sensation that Moliere had cause to repent of 
 having exhibited her in the midst of the brilliant young 
 men of the Court. For scarcely had she arrived at 
 Chambord, where the King gave this entertainment, 
 than she became infatuated with the Comte de Guiche, 1 
 while the Comte de Lauzun 2 became infatuated with her. 
 The latter spared no effort to obtain her good graces, but 
 the Moliere, who had quite lost her head over her hero, 
 would listen to no proposition, and contented herself 
 with visiting Du Pare and weeping over the indifference 
 of the Comte de Guiche. The Comte de Lauzun, 
 however, did not abandon hope, experience having 
 taught him that nothing could resist him. He knew, 
 moreover, that the Comte de Guiche was one who set 
 but little store by woman's love, for which reason he 
 
 1 Armand de Gramont, Comte de Guiche, brother of Philibert de 
 Gramont, the hero of Count Hamilton's Memoirs. 
 
 2 Antoine Nompar de Caumont, Comte, and afterwards Due, de 
 Lauzun, the beloved of la Grande Mademoiselle, who so nearly succeeded 
 in securing the hand and vast possessions of that princess, and who, in 
 November 1671, was imprisoned at Pignerol, where he remained ten 
 years. For an account of his adventures, see the author's "Madame 
 de Montespan" (London, Harpers: New York, Scribners : 1903).
 
 46 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 doubted not that his indifference would end by repulsing 
 the Moliere, and that his own star would then produce 
 in her heart what it had produced in those of all the 
 women whom he had sought to please. He was not 
 deceived, for the Moliere, irritated by the coldness of 
 the Comte de Guiche, threw herself into the arms of 
 the Comte de Lauzun, as if desirous of seeking pro- 
 tection against further suffering at the hands of a man 
 who failed to appreciate her." 
 
 Here again we have an impossibility and an impro- 
 bability. In May 1664 the Comte de Guiche was at 
 Warsaw, having been exiled the previous year, on 
 account of his complicity in the " Spanish letter " plot 
 against Mile, de la Valliere, and, therefore, could not 
 have been making love or being made love to at 
 Versailles. As for Lauzun, no mention of him is to 
 be found among the persons who assisted at the ftes 
 where the Princesse d* Elide was performed, while even 
 if he were present, it is very unlikely that he had any 
 attention to spare for Mile. Moliere, as he was at this 
 time desperately in love with the Princesse de Monaco, 
 who afterwards jilted him for the King himself. The 
 fact is that the malicious chronicler, having decided to 
 give her victim some grands seigneurs as lovers, not 
 unnaturally selected those most celebrated for their 
 gallantry, in the belief that, among their numerous 
 mistresses, one more would pass without difficulty ; but 
 she had little acquaintance with the Court, and her 
 ignorance has betrayed her. 
 
 Although the Abb6 de Richelieu had, as we have 
 mentioned, departed for Hungary, the Fameuse Comedienne 
 retains him on the stage and makes him play a parti- 
 cularly odious r61e. He intercepts a very tender letter
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 47 
 
 written by Armande to the Comte de Guiche, and, 
 furious at the lady's duplicity, " does not amuse him- 
 self by uttering reproaches, which never serve any good 
 purpose ; but, congratulating himself on having en- 
 gaged her only by the day, resolves to break with 
 her from that moment, which he does, after calling 
 Moliere' s attention to the fact that the great care 
 he took to please the public left him no time for 
 examining the conduct of his own wife, and that while 
 he worked to divert every one, every one worked 
 to divert her." 
 
 A bitter matrimonial quarrel naturally follows this 
 confidence. Armande sheds floods of tears, confesses 
 her tendresse for Guiche, but protests that she is guilty 
 in intention only, carefully refrains from saying a word 
 about Lauzun, entreats her deluded husband's pardon, 
 which she obtains with very little difficulty, and profits 
 by his credulity to continue her intrigues " with more 
 Mat than ever." Wearying of sentimental or quasi- 
 sentimental attachments, she resolves to profit by her 
 charms, at the same time making a great pretence of 
 chastity and " causing to sigh for her an infinity of fools 
 who imagine her to be of unexampled virtue." How- 
 ever, in due course, Moliere is advised of her proceed- 
 ings, and another painful scene takes place between 
 husband and wife. Moliere falls into a violent passion 
 and threatens to have her shut up in a convent. 
 Armande weeps, swoons away, and appears to be on 
 the point of expiring ; but eventually revives and, 
 instead of entreating pardon, as on the previous 
 occasion, takes a high tone, accuses her husband of 
 keeping up his intimacy with Mile, de Brie, who, by 
 a singular arrangement, still continued to reside under
 
 48 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 the same roof as her former lover, 1 and also with 
 Madeleine Bejart, declares that she " no longer has the 
 courage to live with him, that she would rather die, 
 and that everything between them must come to an 
 end." In vain her family, that of Moliere, and their 
 common friends endeavour to appease her. " She con- 
 ceives henceforth a terrible aversion for her husband, 
 she treats him with the utmost contempt ; finally, she 
 carries matters to such an extremity that Moliere, 
 beginning to perceive her evil propensities, consents 
 to the rupture which, since their quarrel, she has never 
 ceased to demand ; and, accordingly, without any decree 
 of the Parliament, they agree that they will no longer 
 live together." 
 
 Here, at last, the author of the Fameuse Comedienne 
 is on sure ground ; for we know, on unimpeachable 
 authority, that an " amicable " separation did actually 
 take place between Moliere and his wife. Its precise 
 date is a matter of some uncertainty, but it must have 
 been subsequent to the month of April 1665, when 
 Armande presented her husband with a second child, 
 a daughter, to whom Madeleine Bejart and the Comte 
 de Modene stood sponsors. "If," says M. Larroumet, 
 "we admit that the Misanthrope reflects something of 
 the poet's state of mind and of his feelings towards 
 
 1 When Moliere married, he went to live in the Rue de Richelieu. 
 In the following year, however, he removed to the Bejarts' house situated 
 at the corner of the Rue Saint-Thomas du Louvre and the Place du 
 Palais-Royal. It was a very large house, capable of accommodating 
 two or three families, and Mile, de Brie had for some time occupied part 
 of it. Molire's object in residing there seems to have been to allow his 
 young wife to enjoy the society of her family, but there can be no doubt 
 that he committed a very grave mistake in residing under the same roof 
 as a woman with whom he had formerly had a liaison.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 49 
 
 his wife, the separation perhaps belongs to the moment 
 when this play was produced, in June 1666, or later, 
 about the month of August, after the Medecin malgre 
 lui." M. Larroumet sees in the circumstance that the 
 leading feminine parts in the three plays which followed 
 the Medecin malgre lui : Melicerte, Le Sicilien, and Amphi- 
 tryon, were allotted to Mile, de Brie, and not to Armande 
 a distribution which must have been peculiarly galling 
 to the latter, who had so long filled the most important 
 or the most flattering roles a natural effect of her 
 husband's resentment. 
 
 From the moment of their rupture until their recon- 
 ciliation, some five years later, husband and wife met 
 no more, except at the theatre. Armande remained in 
 Paris, with her mother and sister ; while Moliere passed 
 most of his rare leisure at a little country-house which 
 he rented at Auteuil, then, as now, one of the most 
 beautiful suburbs of Paris. One day, according to the 
 Fameuse Comedienne, he was sitting in his garden, musing 
 sadly upon his lost happiness, when his friend Chapelle 
 broke in upon his solitude, and, finding him in a more 
 than usually despondent mood, began to reproach him 
 with betraying a weakness which he had so often turned 
 to ridicule upon the stage. 
 
 " For my part," said he, " if I were unfortunate 
 enough to find myself in like case to you, and that the 
 person I loved granted favours to others, I should feel 
 such a contempt for her as would infallibly cure me of 
 my passion. Moreover, there is a satisfaction open to 
 you, which would be denied you if she were only your 
 mistress ; and that vengeance which commonly takes the 
 place of love in an outraged heart can compensate you for 
 all the mortifications your wife occasions you, since you 
 
 D
 
 5 
 
 can at once have her shut up in a convent. This would, 
 indeed, be a sure means of placing your mind at rest." 
 
 Moliere, who had listened quietly to his friend, here 
 interrupted him to inquire whether he himself had never 
 loved. 
 
 "Yes," replied Chapelle, "I have been in love as 
 a man of sense ought to be, but I should never have 
 found any difficulty in following what honour prescribed; 
 and I blush to find you in such a state of indecision in 
 regard to this matter." 
 
 " I see well," rejoined Moliere, " that you have never 
 truly loved. You take the semblance of love for love 
 itself. I might give you many examples which would 
 demonstrate to you the strength of this passion ; but 
 I will merely give you a faithful account of my own 
 trouble, that you may understand how little we are 
 masters of ourselves when once it has acquired dominion 
 over us. As for the consummate knowledge of the 
 human heart which you say the portraits I am con- 
 stantly offering to the public prove me to possess, I will 
 acknowledge that I have endeavoured to understand its 
 weakness. But, if my science has taught me that danger 
 should be avoided, my experience convinces me but too 
 thoroughly that to escape it is impossible. I judge daily 
 by my own case. 
 
 " I am by nature of an excessively tender disposition, 
 and all my efforts have never enabled me to overcome 
 my inclinations towards love. I sought to render myself 
 happy, that is to say, so far as might be with a sensitive 
 heart. I was convinced that few women are deserving of 
 sincere affection ; that interest, ambition, and vanity are 
 at the root of all their intrigues. I thought, however, 
 to secure my happiness by the innocence of my choice.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 51 
 
 I took my wife, so to speak, from the cradle. I 
 educated her with the care which has given rise to the 
 rumours which have doubtless reached your ears. I had 
 persuaded myself that I could inspire her by habit with 
 sentiments that time alone could destroy, and I neglected 
 nothing whereby this end could be attained. As she 
 was still young when I married her, I was unaware of 
 her evil propensities, and deemed myself a little less 
 unfortunate than the majority of those who contract 
 such engagements. Thus marriage did not lessen my 
 affection ; but she treated me with such indifference 
 that I began to perceive that all my precautions had 
 been unavailing, and that her feelings towards me were 
 very far removed from what I desired for my happiness. 
 I reproached myself with a sensitiveness which seemed 
 ridiculous in a husband, ascribing to her disposition that 
 which was really due to her want of affection for me. 
 But I had but too many opportunities of perceiving my 
 error ; and the mad passion which she contracted soon 
 afterwards for the Comte de Guiche occasioned too 
 much commotion to leave me even this appearance of 
 tranquillity. I spared no endeavour, so soon as I knew 
 the truth, to conquer myself, finding it impossible to 
 change her. I employed all the strength of mind that 
 I could command. I summoned to my aid everything 
 that could help to console me. I considered her as a 
 person whose sole merit had lain in her innocence, and 
 whose unfaithfulness robbed her of all her charms. I 
 resolved henceforth to live with her as an honourable 
 man whose wife is a coquette, and who is well persuaded 
 that, whatever may be said, his reputation is not affected 
 by the misconduct of his spouse. But I had the morti- 
 fication to discover that a woman without great beauty,
 
 52 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 who owed what little intelligence she possessed to the 
 education which I had given her, could, in an instant, 
 destroy all my philosophy. Her presence made me 
 forget all my resolutions ; the first words she said in her 
 defence left me so convinced that my suspicions were 
 ill-founded that I asked pardon of her for having been 
 so credulous. 
 
 " However, my kindness effected no change in her, 
 and, in the end, I determined to live with her as if she 
 were not my wife ; but if you knew what I suffer you 
 would pity me. My passion has reached such a point as 
 to cause me to sympathise with her ; and when I reflect 
 upon the impossibility of suppressing what I feel for her, 
 I tell myself, at the same time, that she has perhaps a 
 similar difficulty in overcoming her inclination towards 
 coquetry, and I find myself more disposed to pity than 
 to blame her. 
 
 " No doubt you will tell me that one must be a poet 
 to love in this manner, but, for my part, I hold that 
 there is only one kind of love, and that those who have 
 not felt such tenderness have never truly loved. Every- 
 thing in this world is associated in my mind with her. 
 So entirely arc my thoughts occupied by her that in her 
 absence nothing can give me pleasure. When I behold 
 her, an emotion, transports which may be felt but not 
 expressed, deprive me of all power of reflection. I 
 have no longer eyes for her faults, but see only her 
 lovable qualities. Is not this the last extremity of folly ? 
 And do you not marvel that all my reason serves only 
 to convince me of my weakness without giving me the 
 strength to master it ? " 
 
 Quite a number of writers, including several who are 
 inclined to place but little confidence in the rest of the
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 53 
 
 Fameuse Comedienne, pronounce unhesitatingly for the 
 genuineness of the above conversation. M. Edouard 
 Fournier thinks that a letter from Moliere to Chapelle 
 has been worked into the text, 1 while Mr. Gegg 
 Markheim, in his very interesting preface to the 
 Clarendon Press edition of the Misanthrope, is of opinion 
 that a conversation between the two poets was repeated 
 by Chapelle, " either thoughtlessly or to clear his friend 
 from certain slanders," and reached the ears of the 
 author. Mr. Markheim adduces two circumstances as 
 proofs of the genuineness of the Auteuil confession : 
 first, that the substance of it is confirmed by a similar 
 conversation between Moliere and his friends, the 
 physician Rohault, and Mignard, the celebrated painter, 
 cited by Grimarest, in his biography of the dramatist ; 
 secondly, the very remarkable resemblance, not only in 
 thought but in language, between certain passages in the 
 Fameuse Comedienne and the Misanthrope, in which play 
 Moliere is generally believed to have, in some measure, 
 taken his audience into his confidence in regard to his 
 domestic affairs. Thus to cite only one instance of 
 several which Mr. Markheim gives in the book Moliere 
 says : " Je n'ai plus d'yeux pour ses defauts, il m y en 
 reste seulement pour ce quelle a d'aimable ; " while in 
 the play Alceste makes the same confession in almost 
 the same words : 
 
 " J'ai beau voir ses defauts, et j^ai beau Ten blamer, 
 En depit qu'on en ait, elle se fait aimer." 
 
 Mr. Markheim's first argument may, we think, be 
 dismissed, as the conversation in Grimarest would appear 
 to be nothing more than a not too skilful imitation of 
 
 1 hides sur la vie et les auvres de Moliere,
 
 54 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 that in the Fameuse Comedienne; but the second is 
 deserving of more attention. The similarity between 
 the several passages Mr. Markheim cites is certainly too 
 striking to be explained away on the ground of mere 
 coincidence ; yet, so far from proving his contention, 
 it makes, in our opinion, for a diametrically opposite 
 conclusion. Let us listen to what M. Larroumet, the 
 best-informed and most impartial of all the recent bio- 
 graphers of Moliere, has to say upon the matter : " If 
 we admit that the Fameuse Comedienne, in spite of its 
 detestable inspiration, is not the work of a beginner, 
 but of an actress endowed with the talent of a natural 
 style, the simplest course would be to admit further that 
 this fragment is as much her work as the rest of the 
 book. Trained to the practice of the theatre, she 
 combines certain portions of her story with as many 
 little plays. Here she will have perceived the scene 
 to construct and the pathetic tirade to write. Is not the 
 situation one to inspire and stimulate ? Sustained then 
 by her recollections of the Misanthrope, her imagination 
 stirred by the passionate complaints of Alceste, her 
 hatred of Armande coming to her assistance, she has 
 been successful in the scene and the tirade." l 
 
 In a word, the whole Auteuil episode is pure fiction ; 
 yet fiction of such a kind " one of the choicest morsels 
 of French prose in its most glorious epoch " as may 
 well arouse a regret that the writer did not turn her 
 undoubted talents to some worthier purpose than the 
 composition of scandalous libels. 
 
 In the isolation in which he now found himself, 
 Moliere, who was one of those who cannot live without 
 
 1 La ComtJle de Moliere , p. 158.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLI^RE 55 
 
 woman's affection, turned for comfort to Mile, de Brie, 
 his former providence, who, it may be mentioned, had 
 in the Misanthrope played the part of Eliante, the lady 
 who endeavours to console Alceste for the caprices of 
 
 Celimene. Her intervention, however, was of a less 
 
 i 
 
 irreproachable kind than Eliante's, and she appears to 
 have passed a considerable portion of her time at 
 Auteuil. The poet's friends remonstrated, pointing 
 out that, by renewing his intimacy with Mile, de Brie, 
 he was giving his wife but too much excuse for her 
 own conduct, and endeavoured to persuade him to break 
 with her. "Is it for virtue, beauty, or intelligence that 
 you love this woman ? " one of them is said to have 
 asked him. " You know that Florimont and Le Bar re 
 are her lovers, that she is not beautiful, that she is a 
 perfect skeleton, and that she has no common sense." 
 "I know all that," replied Moliere; "but I am accus- 
 tomed to her faults ; for me to accommodate myself to 
 the imperfections of another would be a task beyond 
 my powers ; I have neither the time nor the patience." 
 
 But Moliere adored his wife : about this all his con- 
 temporaries are agreed. Bold and courageous in his 
 works, ever ready to castigate vice and ridicule folly, 
 without troubling himself about the possibility of reprisals, 
 he showed himself in regard to her feeble and irresolute 
 to the last degree. His relations with Mile, de Brie 
 and other women were after all but passing caprices ; his 
 passion for Armande was the one serious love of his life ; 
 a love which survived indifference, ingratitude, it may 
 be even infidelity, and to which he always returned, in 
 spite of vows and good resolutions. 
 
 Under these circumstances, a reconciliation could 
 be only a matter of time, and, thanks to the good offices
 
 56 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 of their common friends, Chapelle and the Marquis de 
 Jonzac, it took place towards the end of the year 1671. 
 The author of the Fameuse Comedienne is discreetly silent 
 about this, fearing that it might weaken her indictment ; 
 and, between whiles, places a new intrigue of Armande ; 
 this time with a member of her husband's troupe. 
 
 Some years before, Moliere had rescued a little boy 
 named Michel Baron from the hands of some strolling 
 players, and, perceiving in him the makings of an 
 excellent actor, had attached him to himself and trained 
 him for the stage. His confidence was justified, for 
 Baron became in later years the greatest actor of his time 
 and also a successful dramatist. Armande, however, was 
 far from sharing Moliere's liking for the boy ; she 
 detested him for his precocity and impertinent airs, and 
 still more for the influence which she suspected him of 
 exercising over her husband ; and one day, during a 
 rehearsal of Melicerte, in which Baron had been cast for 
 the title-part, carried her resentment to the point of 
 dealing him a sound box on the ear. In high dudgeon, 
 Baron forthwith took himself off and joined a strolling 
 company ; nor was it until four years later that, at the 
 urgent entreaty of Moliere, he consented to return. He 
 was then a tall lad of seventeen, exceedingly handsome, 
 full of assurance, and " already in great request among 
 the ladies of the theatre and also among certain ladies of 
 the fashionable world." It did not appear at first, says 
 the author of the Fameuse Comedienne, that time had 
 greatly modified the hostility with which Mile. Moliere 
 and he regarded one another. But when they appeared 
 together in Psyche 1 , at the carnival of 1671, Armande in 
 the title-part, Baron as Love, there came a change. 
 " The common praises that they received compelled them
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 57 
 
 to examine one another more attentively, and even with 
 some degree of pleasure. He was the first to break the 
 silence by complimenting her on the good fortune that 
 had befallen him in being chosen to represent her lover, 
 and observing that he owed the approbation of the 
 public to this happy chance, and that it was not diffi- 
 cult to play the part of a person whose feelings one 
 could so well understand. The Moliere replied that the 
 praises bestowed on a man like himself were the reward 
 of merit, and that she had no share in them ; but that 
 gallantry on the part of one who was said to have so 
 many mistresses did not surprise her, and that he must 
 be as accomplished an actor outside the theatre as he was 
 on the stage. 
 
 " Baron, to whom these kind of reproaches were not 
 displeasing, told her that he had indeed some habits that 
 one might call bonnes fortunes, but that he was prepared 
 to sacrifice all for her, and that he would set more value 
 on the smallest of her favours than on any which the 
 ladies who had smiled upon him were able to bestow. 
 And he mentioned their names, with a discretion which 
 was natural to him." 
 
 Armande is, of course, enchanted by this proof of 
 devotion, and, to cut a long story short, they resolve to 
 continue their respective roles off the stage. 
 
 We have related this supposed intrigue at far greater 
 length than it deserves, since it furnishes a fair sample of 
 the materials upon which M. Loiseleur and other his- 
 torians have based their judgments of Armande. But, 
 in point of fact, it is no more worthy of belief than 
 the stories about Lauzun, Guiche, and the Abbe de 
 Richelieu. Although the insufferable coxcomb whom 
 La Bruyere has depicted under the name of Roscius, and
 
 58 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 who is said to have depicted himself in his comedy, 
 L'Homme h bonnes for -tunes ', was not the kind of person to 
 be deterred by any honourable scruples from making 
 love to the wife of his benefactor, had he been so 
 minded, we can hardly suppose that an intrigue between 
 Armande and a member of his own troupe could have 
 been carried on without Moliere becoming aware of it, 
 or that, when aware of it, he would have permitted 
 Baron to retain his place in the company. Moreover, 
 apart from the statement in the Fameuse Comedienne, 
 there is no reason to believe that the old antipathy 
 between Armande and Baron ever ceased to exist, far less 
 that they became lovers. What is certain, is that no 
 sooner was Moliere dead than Baron quitted the Palais- 
 Royal and went over to the Hotel de Bourgogne, at a 
 moment when Armande, become chief of the troupe, was 
 urgently in need of his services. This, it must be 
 admitted, was hardly the conduct of a friend, to say 
 nothing of a lover. 
 
 By the side of these intrigues, apocryphal or doubtful, 
 it is pleasant to be able to record a friendship of an alto- 
 gether unexceptional nature. The great Corneille, in 
 spite of his affection for his wife, Marie de Lemperiere, 
 whose hand Cardinal de Richelieu is said to have obtained 
 for him, after her father had sent the poet about his 
 business, was of a very gallant disposition and in the 
 habit of offering incense at the shrine of any goddess of 
 the theatre who was inclined to accept his devotion. At 
 Rouen, in 1758, he had, like Moliere at an earlier date, 
 fallen desperately in love with Mile, du Pare, but had 
 fared no better at the hands of that haughty beauty than 
 the chief of the Illustre Theatre. This rebuff, which 
 drew from the chagrined poet the well-known Stances h
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 59 
 
 une marquise, seems to have brought home to Corneille 
 the fact that he was no longer young, and to have some- 
 what damped his amorous ardour. At any rate, when 
 Armande appeared upon the scene, he contented him- 
 self with offering her a platonic admiration, charmingly 
 expressed in the third act of PsychL 
 
 Psycht. " Can one be jealous of the affection of 
 relatives ? " 
 
 Amour. " I am so, my Psyche ; I am so of all nature. 
 The sun's rays kiss you too often ; your tresses suffer 
 too many caresses from the wind. The moment it toys 
 with them, I murmur at it. The very air you breathe 
 with too much pleasure passes between your lips. And, 
 so soon as you sigh, I know not what affrights me, 
 and makes me fear, among your sighs, some errant 
 ones." 
 
 Not content with this tribute to the lady's charms, 
 the old poet conceived the idea of writing for Armande 
 a play in which she might impersonate the heroine, and 
 he might portray himself in the character of a chivalrous 
 old man in love with her. He, accordingly, composed 
 his PnkhJriti which, as Moliere, for some reason, could 
 not see his way to accept it for the Palais-Royal, was 
 produced at the Marais on November 2, 1672. It was 
 a poor play, the dramatist having failed to endow either 
 the plot with interest, or the characters, apart from the 
 amorous old senator Martian, with any special indivi- 
 duality ; and even Corneille's devoted admirer, Madame 
 de Sevigne, was compelled to admit that " Pulchtrie 
 was not a success." Nevertheless the terms in which 
 Martian speaks of the heroine were so very flattering 
 that Armande must have regretted that circumstances 
 had prevented her undertaking the latter part.
 
 60 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 The reconciliation between Moliere and Armande 
 was in all likelihood facilitated by a serious illness with 
 which the latter was seized in the early autumn of 1671, 
 during the run of PsychL Under such circumstances 
 the most legitimate grievances are apt to be forgotten, 
 and it must have needed but very little persuasion on the 
 part of their common friends to induce Moliere, with all 
 his love for his wife revived at the sight of her suffer- 
 ing, to hasten her convalescence by an assurance of 
 his full forgiveness. In the following February, Made- 
 leine Bejart died, leaving the bulk of her property to 
 Armande, and, towards the middle of that year, Moliere 
 removed from the Place du Palais-Royal, where he had 
 lived for so long with the Bejarts and Mile, de Brie, to 
 a large house in the Rue de Richelieu, near the Academic 
 des Peintres, which he furnished very sumptuously. 
 Here, on September 15, Armande gave birth to her 
 third child a son baptized as Pierre Jean Baptiste 
 Armand on October i, Boileau-Puimorin, brother of 
 Boileau-Despreaux, and Mile. Mignard, daughter of the 
 celebrated painter, acting as sponsors. The little boy, 
 however, only survived this ceremony a few days, thus 
 preceding his illustrious father to the grave by rather 
 less than four months. 
 
 The reconciliation with his wife, indeed, in itself so 
 happy, was destined to prove fatal to Moliere, and was 
 undoubtedly one of the causes of his premature death. 
 For some years, the poet had suffered from a chest 
 affection, very possibly due to frequent exposure during 
 his provincial tours. In the winter of 1665-1666, we 
 learn from Robinet that he had had an illness which all 
 but terminated fatally, and in the spring of 1667 he was 
 again " tout proche cTentrer dans la biere" was absent
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 61 
 
 from the theatre for two months, and was compelled 
 to restrict himself to a milk diet, and speak as little 
 as possible when not on the stage. The retired life he 
 had led during his breach with Armande had, of course, 
 favoured the adoption of this regimen, and under it his 
 health had so much improved that, believing himself 
 cured, and unwilling to impose on his wife the cheerless 
 society of a valetudinarian, he abandoned his abstemious 
 habits, entertained largely, and, in short, resumed his 
 former mode of life. The result was a rapid aggravation 
 of his complaint ; his nights were sleepless, he was 
 racked by a terrible cough, and, at the beginning of the 
 year 1673, it became evident that his days were numbered. 
 In this condition, by the irony of Fate, it fell to him 
 to represent the folly of a man in perfect health who, 
 imagining himself the victim of all manner of fell 
 diseases, is ready to submit to any and every remedy 
 that may be suggested to him, that is to say, the exact 
 counterpart of his own state. On February 10, the 
 Malade tmaginaire, a happy conception in the com- 
 position of which the author had doubtless contrived 
 to find some relief from his sufferings, both of body 
 and mind for there is some reason to believe that his 
 relations with his wife were again becoming strained 
 was produced at the Palais-Royal, and played for three 
 nights to crowded houses. On the morning of the 
 fourth performance, February ly, 1 Moliere was so weak 
 
 1 Molire's troupe only played three times a week, on Sundays, 
 Tuesdays, and Fridays ; on the other days, the theatre was occupied 
 by the Italian comedians. Friday was the favourite day for the pro- 
 duction of new plays. The playhouses were also frequently closed : 
 during Holy Week and the week following Easter, during the illness 
 of a member of the Royal Family, on public fete days, and also, 
 occasionally, when any particularly notorious criminal was to be executed
 
 62 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 that Armande and Baron united in urging him not to 
 play, but their efforts were unavailing. " How," he 
 asked, " can I refuse to appear when so many persons' 
 bread depends upon it ? I should reproach myself for 
 the distress I might cause them, as I have sufficient 
 strength to prevent it." This speech is often quoted 
 as a proof of Moliere's consideration for others, but 
 though the great writer's unselfishness and generosity 
 are happily beyond dispute, it would appear more prob- 
 able that his plea was merely an excuse for disregarding 
 the advice of his wife and friend, as he was sufficiently 
 well off to have been able to compensate those who 
 would have suffered by the temporary closing of the 
 theatre without any very serious inconvenience. 1 No ; 
 Moliere knew that his end was near, and, like the brave 
 man he was, he preferred to die in harness, rather than, 
 by taking to his bed, prolong his sufferings a few days 
 longer. 
 
 Accordingly, when the play began at four o'clock, 
 he again appeared in the high-backed arm-chair of the 
 imaginary invalid, and acted the part with as much 
 whimsical humour as on the three previous occasions, 
 though it was obvious to those on the stage that every 
 speech and movement cost him a terrible effort ; and in 
 the burlesque ceremony where Argan takes the oath 
 
 in the Place de Greve. Thus, there were no performances on July 17, 
 1676, the day on which Madame de Brinvilliers, the poisoner, paid the 
 penalty of her crimes. The play began at four o'clock and was always 
 over before seven. Early in the century, the curtain, in winter, seems to 
 have risen at two o'clock, in order to allow of the audience reaching 
 their homes before the footpads were abroad. 
 
 1 Grimarest places Moliere's income as high as 30,000 livres, a 
 sum, according to M. Larroumet's computation, equal to 1 50,000 francs 
 to-day.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 63 
 
 as a new doctor, swearing to adhere to the remedies 
 prescribed by antiquity and to ignore modern discovery, 
 he was seized with a convulsion, which he endeavoured 
 vainly to disguise by forcing a laugh. When the curtain 
 fell, he made his way to Baron's dressing-room and 
 complained that he was " perishing of cold." A chair 
 was obtained, and the dying man conveyed to his home, 
 where he was put to bed. Feeling that his last hour 
 was at hand, he asked for the consolations of religion, 
 and Armande and Baron hurried off to Saint-Eustache, 
 where, however, the two priests in attendance, learning 
 who it was who required their help, declined to leave 
 the church. The next priest applied to had a better 
 sense of his duty, and consented to administer the 
 Sacraments. But, in the meanwhile, much precious 
 time had been wasted, and when he reached the house, 
 Moliere had no further need of his services. He had 
 died at ten o'clock, in the arms of two Sisters of Charity, 
 to whom he had long given shelter during their Lenten 
 visits to Paris, and who had but that day arrived in the 
 capital. 
 
 Notwithstanding the assistance of these two nuns, and 
 the fact that a priest had been summoned to his death- 
 bed, Moliere was none the less regarded as having died 
 without the consolations of religion, and M. Merlin, the 
 cure of Saint-Eustache, refused ecclesiastical burial to his 
 remains. 
 
 Armande at once addressed a petition to the Arch- 
 bishop of Paris, Harlay de Chanvalon, explaining the 
 circumstances of the case, and laying stress upon the fact 
 of her husband having communicated at the previous 
 Easter. It has been stated that the archbishop's reply 
 was an absolute refusal. This is incorrect ; he confined
 
 64 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 himself to referring the petition to an official whose duty 
 it was to inquire into such matters. 
 
 However, Armande, dreading an unfavourable an- 
 swer, determined to seek the intervention of the King, 
 and, accompanied by the curof Auteuil, a liberal-minded 
 ecclesiastic and a personal friend of Moliere, she set off 
 for Saint-Germain, where the Court then was. Even her 
 enemies are compelled to admit that, in these trying cir- 
 cumstances, she showed both dignity and courage. " If," 
 she exclaimed, when the King demurred to granting her 
 request, " if my husband was a criminal, his crimes were 
 authorised by your Majesty in person." This was cer- 
 tainly true, though to remind his Majesty of the fact 
 was hardly calculated to further her cause, nor did the 
 cur of Auteuil improve matters by embarking on a theo- 
 logical argument, apparently with the view of anticipating 
 an attack upon his orthodoxy by his more bigoted 
 brethren. Nevertheless, Louis XIV., though obviously 
 much annoyed at such outspokenness, behaved with that 
 tact which is one of his best claims to our respect. He 
 dismissed the widow and the cure\ telling them that the 
 matter was one which concerned the archbishop and not 
 himself; but, at the same time, he wrote to the prelate, 
 bidding him " take steps to avoid eclat and scandal." 
 
 The archbishop, as became a good courtier, bowed 
 to the royal commands, but, in order to save appearances, 
 compromised the matter. He permitted " the cure of 
 Saint-Eustache to give ecclesiastical burial to the body 
 of the deceased in the cemetery of the parish, on condi- 
 tion, nevertheless, that it should take place without any 
 ostentation, with two priests only, and after dusk had 
 fallen ; that there should be no solemn service on his 
 behalf, either in the said parish of Saint-Eustache or even
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 65 
 
 in any church of the regular clergy, and that our present 
 permission shall be without prejudice to the rules of the 
 ritual of our Church, which we desire shall be observed 
 according to their form and tenor." l 
 
 Much has been written on the refusal of the cure of 
 Saint-Eustache to accord Moliere Christian burial, and 
 on the conditions imposed by the Archbishop of Paris 
 after the official intervention of the king ; and the bigotry 
 and inhumanity of both priest and prelate have been de- 
 nounced in scathing terms. But the majority of those 
 who have treated of the incident were better acquainted 
 with the theatre than the Sorbonne, for, though the 
 souvenirs of Tartuffe and Don Juan no doubt counted for 
 much in the matter, Harlay de Chanvalon and his sub- 
 ordinate were, after all, only putting into force a rule of 
 the Church which had existed for centuries, though in 
 recent times it had, happily, been more honoured in the 
 breach than the observance. As, however, the question 
 is of great interest, and one, also, to which we shall have 
 occasion to return more than once in the course of the 
 present volume, it may be as well for us to give here a 
 brief sketch of the doctrine of the Church in regard to 
 the actor. 
 
 The hostility of the Christian Church to the theatre 
 may be traced back to very early times. The Fathers of 
 the Church Tertullian, Saint-Cyprian, Saint-Chrysos- 
 tome, and others had been unsparing in their condem- 
 nation of the actor, 2 whilst Saint-Salvien, a priest of the 
 
 1 Cited by M. Gaston Maugras, Les Comcdiens hors la /oi, p. 122. 
 
 2 Under the term actor, the early Fathers seem to have included not 
 only actors in the modern acceptation of the word, but mimes, jugglers, 
 acrobats, gladiators, chariot-drivers, and, in fact, almost all public 
 performers. 
 
 E
 
 66 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 fourth century, went so far as to declare that " comedy 
 was worse than blasphemy, theft, homicide, and all other 
 crimes, and that the spectator was the accomplice of the 
 performer." Nor was this hostility by any means con- 
 fined to treatises and sermons. The Council of Elvira, 
 in 305, enacted that no actor was to be received into the 
 Church unless he had solemnly engaged to renounce his 
 profession ; if he failed to keep his promise, he was to be 
 immediately excommunicated. At the Council of Aries, 
 held five years later, all circus-performers and actors were 
 excluded from the Sacraments, so long as they exercised 
 their profession ; and the third Council of Carthage 
 (A.D. 397) denied them baptism or absolution. Hence- 
 forth, the Church regarded actors as beyond her pale, 
 and, imitating the severity of the Roman Law, placed 
 them on the same footing as prostitutes. She refused 
 them baptism ; she refused them absolution ; she refused 
 to marry them ; she refused to accept them as sponsors 
 at the baptism of the children of their relatives and friends ; 
 she refused them the Holy Communion, in public or in 
 private, in life or on their deathbeds ; finally, she refused 
 them even Christian burial. 
 
 Extravagantly severe as all these canons may, at first 
 sight, appear, they were none the less perfectly logical. 
 It was indeed only natural that the early Church should 
 insist that actors who desired to participate in her Sacra- 
 ments should forthwith abjure their profession, when we 
 pause to consider the exceedingly licentious character of 
 the Roman theatre and the powerful influence it exer- 
 cised in perpetuating the memory of Paganism. It is to 
 be remarked, however, that the censures pronounced 
 against the actor emanated not from any Pope or 
 ecumenical council, but from provincial synods, and
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfcRE 67 
 
 when, in process of time, Paganism disappeared and 
 practically the whole of civilised Europe became Chris- 
 tian, they naturally ceased to be enforced though they 
 were never formally abrogated in every country, save 
 one. The exception was France, where the old anathe- 
 mas remained in force, as a natural consequence of the 
 independent attitude adopted by the French clergy to- 
 wards the Holy See. 
 
 In order to protect themselves against the encroach- 
 ments of the Popes, and to resist the changes which they 
 were incessantly striving to introduce into the discipline 
 of the Church, the French bishops laid the foundations 
 of Gallicanism, by declaring immutable all the canons 
 promulgated by the early councils up to the eighth cen- 
 tury which had passed into the customs of the Church of 
 France. The adoption of these canons was a very serious 
 matter for the theatrical profession in France, for among 
 them was that of the Council of Aries, already mentioned, 
 which expressly excluded the actor from the Sacraments, 
 so long as he followed his calling. However, it was 
 clearly understood that the penalties pronounced should 
 not be applied to the regular actor, but only to mounte- 
 banks and other persons whose performances might serve 
 to recall those of Paganism ; and indeed down to the 
 time of the Reformation, when the Catholic clergy, un- 
 willing to show less austerity than those of the Reformed 
 faith, began to proscribe severely all kinds of amuse- 
 ments, even these seem to have been treated with great 
 indulgence. 1 
 
 In 1624, the bigoted Jean de Gondy, Archbishop of 
 Paris, declared in a pastoral letter that actors ought to 
 be deprived of the Sacraments and ecclesiastical burial, 
 
 1 M. Gaston Maugras, Les Comediens hors la lot, passim.
 
 68 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 and stigmatized their profession as " infamous and one 
 unworthy of a Christian." Nevertheless, until the latter 
 part of the seventeenth century, thanks in a great measure, 
 no doubt, to the patronage bestowed on the stage by 
 Richelieu and Mazarin, in practice the greatest tolerance 
 prevailed, and the clergy accorded to the actor the same 
 treatment as to all other good Catholics. Thus, on 
 January 6, 1654, we find Moliere appearing as godfather 
 at a church at Montpellier, and, in 1670 and again in 
 1672, discharging the same duty at churches in Paris, 
 while his marriage, in February 1662, at Saint-Germain- 
 1'Auxerrois, was celebrated without the least difficulty 
 being raised. 
 
 Strange as it may appear, it was the protection 
 accorded the theatre, and the extreme indulgence shown 
 to all connected with it, by a great party in the Church 
 itself that was directly responsible for the termination 
 of this happy state of affairs and the violent reaction, 
 of which the conduct of Harlay de Chanvalon and the 
 cure of Saint-Eustache towards Moliere was but the 
 beginning. 
 
 For some time, the Jesuits seem to have regarded the 
 theatre with disfavour ; but towards the middle of the 
 seventeenth century, perceiving that it might very readily 
 be made to serve as a vehicle for the propagation of their 
 own ideas, their attitude changed, and they not only per- 
 mitted all who came under their influence to attend the 
 play, but even encouraged the pupils in their colleges to 
 perform theological comedies, in which their enemies, the 
 Jansenists, were held up to ridicule. This, naturally, 
 had the effect of exasperating the zealots of Port-Royal 
 and their numerous adherents, who, always hostile to 
 the drama, quickly became bitterly antagonistic and
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 69 
 
 required but very slight provocation to declare open 
 war. 
 
 This provocation was not long in coming. In 1665, 
 the clever but eccentric playwright Desmarets de Saint- 
 Sorlin, the author of Les Visionnaires^ having passed " a 
 la devotion la plus outree" espoused the cause of the Jesuits, 
 and, believing that he had received a call from Heaven to 
 combat the heretics that is to say, the Jansenists made 
 a violent attack upon them. The Jansenists replied by 
 the pen of their famous publicist, Nicole, who stigmatized 
 those who wrote for the theatre as " public poisoners, 
 not of bodies, but of souls." Racine, believing his 
 honour touched, joined in the fray and ridiculed the 
 bigotry of Port-Royal. Nicole rejoined with a Traite 
 de la Comedie, wherein, relying on the teaching of the 
 Fathers of the Church, he condemned not only dramatic 
 authors, but those who interpreted them. " The play- 
 house," said he, " is a school of Vice. The profession of 
 an actor is an employment unworthy of a Christian," and 
 much more to the same effect. Armand de Bourbon, 
 Prince de Conti, formerly a generous patron of the 
 drama and of Moliere, but now, for some time past, a 
 Jansenist of the most advanced type, published a similar 
 work, and gave it as his opinion that a troupe of actors 
 was " a troupe of devils," and to amuse oneself at 
 the play was to "delight the demon." So the war 
 went on. 
 
 The attacks of Nicole and the Prince de Conti were 
 not without their effect ; they aroused the zeal of all 
 who disliked the theatre and believed it prejudicial to 
 morality ; and a regular campaign was organised. All 
 unconsciously, Moliere himself forged a terrible 
 weapon for the enemies of his profession. The produc-
 
 70 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 tion of Tartuffe aroused a perfect storm of indignation 
 among all sections of the clergy ; Jesuit and Jansenist 
 united in denouncing the play, its author, and his calling. 
 A cur of Paris, one Pere Roull6, demanded that the 
 writer, " this demon clothed with flesh and habited as a 
 man, the most notorious blasphemer and libertine that 
 has appeared for centuries past, should be delivered to 
 the flames, the forerunners of those of hell ; " Bourda- 
 loue preached against it ; Bossuet declared the works of 
 the poet to be a tissue of buffooneries, blasphemies, in- 
 famies, and obscenities ; and Hardouin de Perefixe, the 
 then Archbishop of Paris, issued an order forbidding 
 people " to represent, read or hear Tartuffe recited under 
 pain of excommunication." 
 
 All the old prejudices of the Church against the 
 theatre awoke with redoubled force. All the old 
 anathemas against the hapless actor, which had been 
 allowed to slumber for centuries, were dug up by in- 
 dustrious theologians, and the clergy waited eagerly for 
 opportunities of applying them. In 1671, Floridor, the 
 famous tragedian of the Hotel de Bourgogne, fell 
 dangerously ill and sent for the cure of Saint-Eustache 
 to give him absolution. The cure flatly refused, save on 
 condition that the actor would engage, in the event of 
 his recovery, never again to set foot on the stage. 
 Floridor gave the required promise ; nevertheless, when 
 he died, he was buried without ecclesiastical rites. 
 Moliere himself, as we have just seen, was the next 
 victim of priestly intolerance. 
 
 The funeral took place on February 21, at nine 
 o'clock in the evening, in conformity with the orders 
 of Chanvalon. By that hour, an immense crowd had
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 71 
 
 gathered in front of the house, drawn thither, no doubt, 
 merely by curiosity. Armande, however, " unable to 
 penetrate its intention,'* became much alarmed, fearing 
 that the enemies of her husband were organising a riot, 
 and that some indignity to his remains was intended. 
 She accordingly determined to endeavour to appease it, 
 and going to a window, threw out handfuls of silver 
 to the amount of one thousand livres, "at the same 
 time, imploring the assembled people to give their 
 prayers to her husband, in terms so touching that there 
 was not one among those persons who did not pray to 
 God with all his heart." 
 
 The body of Moliere was not taken into the church, 
 but conveyed direct to the cemetery of Saint- Joseph ; 
 the coffin, covered by a large pall, being preceded by 
 two priests and six enfants bleus carrying lighted tapers 
 in silver sconces, and followed by a considerable number 
 of people, many of whom bore torches. Among the 
 mourners were Boileau, La Fontaine, Chapelle, and the 
 players of the Palais-Royal. 
 
 When the cortege reached the cemetery, which was 
 situated in the Rue Montmartre, a long delay occurred, 
 as the gate was closed and the keys had been forgotten. 
 While awaiting their arrival, the mourners were able 
 to read, by the light of the blazing torches, a placard 
 posted on the wall, which bore the following verses : 
 
 " II est pass ce Moliere 
 Du Theatre a la biere ; 
 Le pauvre homme a fait un faux bond ; 
 Et ce tant renomme bouffon 
 N'a jamais su si bien faire 
 Le Malade imaginaire 
 Qu'il a fait la mort pour tout de bon."
 
 72 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 At last, the keys arrived, and the ceremony was con- 
 cluded without further incident. Moliere was interred 
 in the middle of the cemetery, at the foot of the cross. 
 Not a word was spoken over his grave. 1 
 
 Above the last resting-place of her husband Armande 
 placed a large tombstone, which was still to be seen in 
 1745, when the brothers Parfaict published their His- 
 toire du Tht&tre Franfais. " This stone," writes Titon 
 du Tillet, " is cracked down the middle, which was 
 occasioned by a very noble and very remarkable action 
 on the part of his widow. Two or three years after 
 Moliere's death, there was a very severe winter, and 
 she ordered to be conveyed to the cemetery a hundred 
 loads of wood, which were burned on her husband's 
 tomb, to warm all the poor of the quarter; the great 
 heat of the fire caused this stone to crack in two." 
 
 It is, as we have said elsewhere, an exceedingly 
 difficult task to arrive at a definite conclusion in regard 
 to the conduct of Armande. That she was the abandoned 
 woman that the Fameuse Comedienne and the writers who 
 follow it have depicted her we entirely decline to 
 believe. If she had been, is it conceivable that Moliere 
 would have lived with her so long, or that, once having 
 broken with her, he would ever have been brought to 
 consent to a reconciliation? On the other hand, to 
 pretend that she was an irreproachable wife seems as 
 hazardous as to affirm her misconduct. There is no 
 smoke without fire, and the separation between her 
 and her husband a separation lasting for five years 
 is a highly suspicious circumstance. Its immediate cause 
 may, of course, have been merely incompatibility of 
 
 1 M. Gaston Maugras, Let Comedicns hors la !oi t p. 124.
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLIERE 73 
 
 temper for the account of the matter given by the 
 Fameuse Comedienne is utterly unreliable but, at the 
 same time, it may very well have been occasioned by 
 a far graver reason. On the whole, the wisest course 
 would appear to be to adopt a middle position, and, 
 while refusing to accept the statements of her detractors, 
 to be equally diffident about associating ourselves with 
 the somewhat violent reaction in the lady's favour which 
 has set in within recent years. 
 
 Whatever may have been Armande's sins or short- 
 comings, however, we should, in justice to her, re- 
 member that the responsibility for Moliere's unhappiness 
 did not rest entirely with her. If she was selfish, vain, 
 and frivolous, greedy for pleasure, and impatient of 
 contradiction, Moliere possessed the nervousness and 
 irritability so frequently associated with genius in a 
 very marked degree, and which, in his case, were aggra- 
 vated by ill-health and overwork. The servant of a 
 public ever exacting and eager for novelties, the strain 
 to which he was subjected, always very great, must, at 
 times, have been well-nigh unbearable ; for we must 
 remember that he was not only a dramatist, but an 
 actor, not only an actor, but a manager. The financial 
 affairs of the troupe, it is true, were in the capable hands 
 of La Grange ; but Moliere made himself responsible 
 for its efficiency, and though the Impromptu de Versailles 
 no doubt conveys an exaggerated idea of his difficulties 
 in this direction, they were probably considerable. The 
 jealousy between the two principal actresses, Armande 
 and Mile, de Brie, must have been alone a fruitful 
 source of trouble. In these circumstances, it is not 
 difficult to understand that the little trials of domestic 
 life, which in the majority of men arouse but a passing
 
 74 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 feeling of annoyance, should have presented themselves 
 to him as intolerable vexations, and that the sudden 
 gusts of passion in which, we are told, he was wont to 
 indulge on the most trifling provocation, should have 
 widened the breach between himself and Armande, whose 
 narrow mind was incapable of comprehending that in 
 such outbursts men of her husband's temperament oft- 
 times seek relief for long weeks of mental strain and 
 anxiety. Add to all this the fact that Moliere was of 
 an excessively jealous disposition, and it becomes obvious 
 that the marriage was doomed to failure from the very 
 first ; in fact, the only thing to occasion surprise is that 
 the inevitable rupture did not take place at a much 
 earlier date, and that it was ever healed. 
 
 Moliere, as we have seen, had been buried on 
 February 21, and three days later the theatre of the 
 Palais-Royal reopened with a performance of the Mis- 
 anthrope, Armande playing Celimene. Her conduct 
 in thus resuming her place in the company so soon 
 after her husband's death was commented upon very 
 unfavourably ; l but it would appear to have been 
 dictated by stern necessity. In the face of the formid- 
 able competition of the Hotel de Bourgogne, the troupe 
 of Moliere, already terribly weakened by the death of its 
 chief, could not possibly have afforded to lose its leading 
 actress for even a brief period ; and Armande, therefore, 
 
 1 " It is true that the loss of Moliere is irreparable," writes the 
 Comte de Limoges to Bussy- Rabutin on March 3, 1673. "I believe 
 that no one will be less affected than his wife ; she acted in comedy 
 yesterday." And Bussy answers : " So far as I can see, her mourning 
 will not cost her much."
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 75 
 
 decided to sacrifice her own feelings to the interests of 
 her colleagues. 
 
 Indeed, as matters stood, the continued existence of 
 the "Comediens du Roi" as a separate company was soon 
 in imminent peril. During the Easter recess, the Hotel 
 de Bourgogne intrigued vigorously against them, with 
 the result that four of the best players, with Baron at 
 their head, resigned their places and passed over to the 
 older theatre ; while, shortly afterwards, Lulli obtained 
 the king's permission to make the theatre of the Palais- 
 Royal the home of French opera, and the unfortunate 
 Molieristes found themselves without a stage to act upon. 
 This was a crushing blow ; and when, very reluctantly, 
 the troupe had made overtures to their old rivals in the 
 Rue Mauconseil, with a view to an amalgamation, and 
 had been met by a curt refusal, the position seemed 
 almost desperate. 
 
 Well indeed was it for Armande and her colleagues 
 that they numbered among them, in the person of 
 La Grange, one of the shrewdest and most capable men 
 of business who ever trod the boards of a theatre. Born, 
 about 1640, at Amiens, of respectable Picard stock, 
 La Grange, after two or three years' experience in the 
 provinces as a strolling player, joined his fortunes to 
 those of Moliere ; and, in May 1659, on the death of 
 Joseph Bejart, stepped into his shoes as the jeune premier 
 of the troupe. As an actor, he appears to have been 
 altogether admirable, the type of the perfect lover, 
 as understood in those days, and, according to the 
 anonymous author of the Entretiens galants, to see him 
 play with Armande in such a piece as the Malade 
 imaginaire was a sight not easily forgotten : " Their 
 acting continues still, even when their part is concluded ;
 
 76 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 they are never useless on the stage ; they play almost as 
 well when they listen as when they speak. Their glances 
 are never wasted ; their eyes do not wander round the 
 boxes ; they know that the theatre is full, but they 
 speak and act as if they see only those who are concerned 
 in their role and action." 
 
 But, excellent actor as was La Grange, he was even 
 better as an " orator " l and manager, posts which, at the 
 time of Moliere's death, he had occupied for some six 
 years ; and there can be no doubt that much of the success 
 which had attended the troupe was due to his skill in 
 gauging the public taste, his untiring energy, and his 
 personal popularity. To him, too, we owe that wonder- 
 ful Regisfre, a perfect mine of accurate and detailed 
 information about the doings of Moliere's troupe, the 
 Hotel Guenegaud, and the early years of the Comedie- 
 Fran9aise ; while it was under his auspices that the first 
 complete edition of his old chief's works was given to 
 the world. 
 
 On the advice of La Grange, Armande now resolved 
 
 1 It was the " orator's " duty to come before the curtain to make 
 announcements or crave the indulgence of the audience in a neat little 
 speech, flowered with compliments and sparkling with witty allusions. 
 It was a very important post and was always filled by an actor of 
 distinction. Thus Bellerose and Floridor were the orators of the Hotel 
 de Bourgogne, Mondory of the Marais, while Moliere was for eome 
 years his own bellman. La Grange, however, appears to have excelled 
 them all. "Although," says Chappuzeau, "he is but of middle height, 
 his presence is good, and his air easy and elegant. You are charmed 
 before he opens his lips. As he has a great deal of fire and of the 
 decent boldness an orator should have, it is a pleasure to listen to him 
 when he comes on to speak the compliment. That one with which he 
 regaled his audience at the opening of the theatre of the Troupe du Roi 
 (Hotel Gue'ne'gaud) was in the best imaginable taste. What he had 
 excellently contrived he spoke with marvellous grace."
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 77 
 
 on a bold stroke. Some years before, a play-loving 
 nobleman, the Marquis de Sourdeac, had built a theatre 
 in a tennis-court in the Rue Mazarine, near the Luxem- 
 bourg, where opera had been performed, until, in March 
 1672, the intriguing Lulli had succeeded in securing for 
 himself the exclusive right of representing musical pieces. 
 It was a fine house, fitted up with every convenience, 
 " with a stage," says Samuel Chappuzeau, in his work on 
 the Paris theatres of the time, " large enough to allow 
 the most elaborate machinery to be worked." La Grange 
 proposed that the troupe should acquire this theatre, and 
 himself undertook the negotiations, which resulted in 
 the Marquis de Sourdeac and his partner, a M. de Cham- 
 peron, ceding to Armande their lease of the property for 
 the sum of 30,000 livres, of which 14,000 was to be 
 paid in cash and the balance by fifty livres on each 
 performance given there. 
 
 An event of great importance was the immediate 
 outcome of the acquisition of this theatre. For some 
 years past, the popularity of the Theatre du Marais had 
 been steadily declining, a circumstance which seems to 
 have been attributable rather to the mediocrity of the 
 plays produced there and the fact that the district in 
 which it was situated was no longer the centre of 
 Parisian life, as it had been during the first half of the 
 century, than to any lack of talent on the part of the 
 company, which, indeed, comprised several excellent 
 performers of both sexes ; and the establishment of 
 the Opera threatened to reduce its already diminished 
 receipts still further. Accordingly, Louis XIV. decided 
 that it should join forces with Mile. Moliere's troupe, 
 and, on June 23, 1673, an ordinance issued by 
 Colbert closed the old playhouse in the Rue Vieille-du-
 
 78 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Temple, which had survived the theatrical vicissitudes of 
 nearly eighty years, and granted permission to the two 
 united companies henceforth to be known as the " Troupe 
 du Roi" to perform comedies and other divertissements 
 honnetes in the Rue Mazarine. 
 
 The new theatre, which was usually called the Theatre 
 Guenegaud, the street of that name being close at hand, 
 opened its doors on July 9 with a performance of 
 Tartuffe. At first, it met with but indifferent success, 
 and between that date and Easter 1674, the share of 
 each player only amounted to 1481 livres, a striking 
 contrast to the takings at the Palais-Royal during the 
 last year of Moliere's life ; while, on one occasion, at the 
 beginning of the second season, V Avare was played to 
 a house of 88 livres ! However, matters steadily 
 improved ; by the following Easter the success of the 
 company was assured, and the season of 1679-1680 
 was worth 1 100 livres more to each of the old Molieristes 
 than the great and profitable year of Tartuffe itself. 
 
 Although the perennial comedies of Moliere naturally 
 figured frequently in the bills, Armande and La Grange 
 had a keen eye for novelties, and did not disdain to tickle 
 the public with melodramas and spectacular plays ; and 
 it was from these indeed that the theatre derived the 
 greater part of its revenue. Thus C/'raf, a tragedy by 
 Thomas Corneille, with changes of scenery, and music by 
 Charpentier, brought in 24,000 livres in nine perform- 
 ances ; while the Devineresse, a comic-melodrama, by the 
 same playwright and Donneau de Vise, on the adventures 
 of La Voisin, the poisoner, was played for forty-seven 
 consecutive nights, almost a record for those days. 
 Another success was achieved when Thomas Corneille 
 turned Moliere's Don Juan into verse, "eliminating
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 79 
 
 the speeches which offended the scrupulous." Donneau 
 de Vise, to whose " puffing " in the Mercure the Theatre 
 Guengaud was probably indebted for not a little of its 
 popularity, declared that in the process of transition the 
 play " had acquired new beauties without losing any of 
 the old," and though few will be found to agree with 
 this pronouncement, the new version proved exceedingly 
 popular. 
 
 The first of the above-mentioned plays, in which 
 Armande secured a great personal triumph in the part 
 of the beautiful sorceress, was associated with a singular 
 incident. 
 
 One evening, a well-dressed man, who occupied a 
 seat upon the stage, approached the actress, as she was 
 standing in the wings awaiting her turn to go on, and 
 addressed her in the manner of an ardent and favoured 
 lover. " Never," said he, " have I seen you look so 
 beautiful. Were it not that I am already your slave, 
 I should be so from this moment." 
 
 Armande, who had never seen the gentleman before, 
 turned haughtily away, without making any reply. But 
 when the play was over, the stranger followed her to 
 her dressing-room, and, having reproached her with her 
 previous coldness, inquired why she had not kept an 
 appointment which she had given him that afternoon. 
 The lady, in profound astonishment, disclaimed all 
 knowledge of her visitor, and angrily ordered him to 
 leave the room. The stranger refused, insisting that 
 she had given him " a score of rendezvous," and de- 
 manding how she could have the audacity to treat him 
 thus after such an intimacy as had existed between them. 
 Armande thereupon sent her maid to summon some of 
 her colleagues, who arrived to find their leader and the
 
 8o QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 stranger almost beside themselves with passion. As well 
 as her outraged feelings would permit, the actress ex- 
 plained the situation to her friends, declaring that she 
 had never set eyes on the gentleman before her in her 
 life ; while he, on his side, asserted in the most positive 
 manner that he knew her intimately, and that she had 
 repeatedly met him at a house of somewhat questionable 
 repute. " Why," cried he, " the very necklace she is 
 now wearing is one of the presents I have made her ! " 
 and he snatched it from her. Armande immediately 
 sent for the guards attached to the theatre, who seized 
 the stranger and held him until the arrival of a commis- 
 sary of police, when he was conducted to prison. 
 
 His statement to the authorities served but to deepen 
 the mystery. It transpired that he was a M. Lescot, a 
 president of the Parliament of Grenoble, who was on a 
 visit to Paris. He had fallen in love with Armande 
 after seeing her play at the Theatre Gunegaud, but, 
 lacking courage to declare his passion directly, and 
 having failed to secure an introduction in the ordinary 
 way, had had recourse to the good offices of a woman 
 called Ledoux, " dont le metier ordinaire etait de faire plaisir 
 au public" and promised her a liberal reward, if she could 
 arrange a rendezvous. In this she had been successful ; 
 Mile. Moliere had accepted his proposals, and they had 
 met repeatedly at Ledoux's house. The actress had, 
 however, strictly forbidden him, for prudential reasons, 
 to address, or even approach, her at the theatre, which 
 instructions he had faithfully observed until that evening, 
 when, as she had failed to keep an appointment to meet 
 him after dinner, he had determined to ascertain the 
 reason, thinking that " a little display of passion " might 
 not be altogether displeasing to her. As for the neck-
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 81 
 
 lace, which, it should be mentioned, was one of a common 
 pattern, he had purchased it at a jeweller's shop on the 
 Quai des Orfevres, the lady being with him at the time. 
 Let them question the jeweller, who would, no doubt, 
 be prepared to corroborate his statement. 
 
 Matters now began to look very unpleasant for 
 Armande, and when the jeweller of the Quai des 
 Orfevres, without a moment's hesitation, identified her 
 as the lady who had accompanied the president to his 
 shop, and Ledoux was found to have left the city, she 
 was in despair. However, a few days later the affair 
 was cleared up. Hunted down by the police, Ledoux 
 confessed that she had palmed off on the credulous 
 Lescot !a young woman called Tourelle, who bore so 
 extraordinary a resemblance to Mile. Moliere, both in 
 appearance and voice, that it was almost impossible for 
 any one not personally acquainted with the latter to tell 
 one from the other, and who had already succeeded in 
 duping quite a number of persons. This woman was 
 also arrested, and a decree of the Parliament of Paris, 
 dated October 17, 1675, sentenced the two delinquents 
 " to be flogged, naked, with rods, before the principal 
 gate of the Chatelet and the house of Mile. Moliere," 
 and to be afterwards banished from Paris for three years. 
 President Lescot was condemned to pay a fine of two 
 hundred crowns, and to make " verbal reparation," that 
 is to say, he had to declare in court, in the presence of 
 Mile. Moliere and any four persons whom she might 
 select, that he had "raised his hand against her and 
 used the insulting language mentioned in the indictment 
 through error and inadvertence." Which done, we may 
 presume, he lost no time in returning to Grenoble, a 
 
 sadder and a wiser man. 
 
 r
 
 82 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 " One is struck," observes M. Larroumet, " by the 
 singular resemblance that this affair presents to that of 
 the Diamond Necklace, which, in 1785, involved the 
 name of Marie Antoinette in so resounding a scandal. 
 After a lapse of a hundred years, the same roles are 
 resumed, that of Armande by the queen, that of the 
 entremetteuse Ledoux by the Comtesse de la Motte, that 
 of the woman Tourelle by the girl Oliva, finally, that of 
 President Lescot by the Cardinal de Rohan. And that 
 nothing may be wanting to the parallel, just as the 
 queen was bespattered by the infamous libel of Madame 
 de la Motte, Armande had to submit to La Fameuse 
 Comedienne. 
 
 Less than a year afterwards, Armande was the 
 victim of another scandal, even more painful than the 
 one recorded above. The scoundrelly Guichard, the 
 attempted poisoner of Lulli, of whom we have already 
 spoken, did not confine his attack upon the widow of 
 Moliere to repeating the hideous accusation of Mont- 
 fleury : he calumniated her in the most shameful manner. 
 "The Moliere," he wrote, "is infamous both in law 
 (i.e. by profession) and in deed. Previous to her mar- 
 riage, she lived continually in wholesale prostitution ; 
 during her married life, continually in public adultery. 
 In short, the Moliere is the most infamous of all infamous 
 women." The obvious extravagance of these charges, 
 and the fact that Guichard assailed with equal violence 
 the characters of most of the other witnesses for the 
 prosecution, no doubt robbed them of much of their 
 sting. 1 Nevertheless, they can hardly have failed to 
 
 1 Guichard was convicted of the charge of attempted poisoning, 
 declared " infamous," and sentenced to the amende honorable and to pay 
 a heavy fine, while the printers of the memoir in which he had libelled
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 83 
 
 occasion the unfortunate woman great annoyance, and, 
 following as they did so closely upon the affaire Lescot, 
 had probably not a little influence upon a step which 
 she took some months later. 
 
 In May 1677, Armande exchanged the glorious 
 name of Moliere for that of Guerin d'Estriche, one of 
 her colleagues of the Theatre Gunegaud, and, in earlier 
 years, a member of the now defunct Theatre du Marais. 
 For this second marriage she was severely blamed by her 
 contemporaries, 1 while it is the fashion among modern 
 writers to refer to it as if it had been a species of 
 sacrilege. In this, we are inclined to think, an injustice 
 had been done Armande. Moliere, as one of his recent 
 biographers reminds us, was not, during the years which 
 followed his death, regarded as the mighty genius which 
 he is now admitted to have been. Save to a few, like 
 Boileau, who fully comprehended the extent of the 
 loss which literature had sustained, he was merely an 
 amusing actor and an excellent author, whose premature 
 death they deplored, but whom they never dreamed of 
 apotheosizing. 2 As for Armande, she was still young 
 and retained all her fascination ; she had not been happy 
 in her first marriage, and may very well have felt that 
 life owed her some compensation. Besides, a second 
 marriage would free her from the attentions of unwelcome 
 admirers, of whom, we may be sure, the luckless President 
 Lescot was only one among many, and would provide 
 
 Armande and others were also punished. He appealed against the 
 sentence, which, in the following year, was quashed, a result undoubtedly 
 due to, the fact that he had powerful protectors at Court. 
 
 1 An epigram ran : 
 
 " Elle avoit un mari d'esprit, qu'elle aimoit peu, 
 Elle en prend un de chair, qu'elle aime d'avantage." 
 
 2 M. Larroumet, La Comedie de Afo/iere, p. 174.
 
 84 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 her with a counsellor in business matters whose interests 
 would be identical with her own, and of whom she must 
 have long felt the need. 
 
 With Guerin, Armande appears to have lived very 
 happily, and even the author of La Fameuse Comedienne is 
 compelled to recognise that her conduct was exemplary, 
 though she hastens to qualify this reluctant admission 
 by declaring that her second husband was a veritable 
 tyrant, who brooked no opposition to his will and did 
 not hesitate to enforce obedience by blows. All disin- 
 terested witnesses, however, concur in representing Guerin 
 as an excellent man, and we see no reason to believe 
 that the anonymous author comes anywhere nearer the 
 truth here than in other portions of her history. 
 
 At Easter 1679, Armande and La Grange succeeded 
 in persuading the famous tragedienne Mile, de Champ- 
 mesle, who had been for nineteen years the mainstay 
 of the Hotel de Bourgogne, to transfer her services to 
 the Theatre Gunegaud, Armande, with rare self-denial, 
 ceding to the illustrious recruit the place which she 
 herself had so long occupied. The defection of their 
 great actress was a paralysing blow for the players of 
 the Rue Mauconseil, and, coupled with the death of La 
 Thorilliere, which occurred shortly afterwards, rendered 
 their position so precarious that, by a lettre de cachet dated 
 October 21, 1680, Louis XIV. directed that they should 
 join forces with the Theatre Guenegaud; and the Comedie- 
 Francaise was founded. Thus, of the three great troupes 
 in existence at the time of Moliere's death, his own alone 
 survived, fortified by the ruin of their rivals. 
 
 Armande continued her career as an actress for some 
 years longer, perhaps her most successful impersonation 
 being that of a young Italian girl in a play called Le
 
 THE WIFE OF MOLlfeRE 85 
 
 Parisien, written by the husband of Mile, de Champmesle. 
 At the Easter recess of 1694, she retired from the stage, 
 with a pension of one thousand livres. From that time 
 we hear but little of her. She appears to have lived a 
 very quiet and uneventful life, for the most part, at a 
 charming country-house which she owned at Meudon, 
 and which still exists, very much as the actress left it. 1 
 She died at Paris, in the Rue du Touraine, on Novem- 
 ber 30, 1 700, at the age of fifty-eight. 
 
 Of Armande's three children by Moliere only one 
 survived their father, a daughter, Madeleine, who, at the 
 age of twenty, much to her mother's disgust, eloped with 
 a M. de Montalant, a middle-aged widower with several 
 children. Making a virtue of necessity, Madame Guerin 
 gave her consent to her daughter's marriage, and Made- 
 leine and her husband subsequently resided at Auteuil, 
 where the former died in 1723. She left no children. 
 
 By Guerin, Armande had a son, to whom she seems 
 to have been intensely devoted. In 1698, at the age of 
 twenty, this young man published an edition of the 
 Melicerte of Moliere, which he had rendered into verse, 
 preceded by an introduction, in which he mentioned that 
 in the Guerin household the memory of the dramatist 
 was held " in respect and veneration." 
 
 Armande's death certificate naturally contained no 
 mention of the great man whose name she had once 
 borne and whose works she had both inspired and inter- 
 preted. Nevertheless, posterity has decided to ignore 
 her connection with the worthy Guerin, and, for us, she 
 must always remain the " Wife of Moliere." 
 
 1 No. 1 1 Rue des Pierres. See Arsne Houssaye's interesting account 
 of a visit paid to it, in his beautifully illustrated work, Moliere ; safemme 
 et sajille (Paris: Dentu, 1880), p. 129 et seq.
 
 II 
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESLfi
 
 II 
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESLE 
 
 "THE name of the Champmesle is inseparable from both 
 the immortality and the frailties of the life of Racine." 
 
 Marie Desmares, the actress of whom these words were 
 written, was born at Rouen, the birthplace of the two 
 Corneilles and other prominent figures in the dramatic 
 history of the seventeenth century, in February 1642. 
 Her father, Guillaume Desmares, though not, as several 
 biographical dictionaries and works of reference state, 
 the son of a President of the Parliament of Normandy, 
 appears to have been a person of some social position, 
 as his name is preceded by a Monsieur, a title which in 
 those days was generally confined to the noblesse and 
 professional classes, while her mother, Marie Marc, was 
 also respectably connected, one of her brothers being an 
 official of the Parliament. 
 
 Of Marie's childhood and youth we know scarcely 
 anything. In 1653 she lost her father, very probably 
 in an epidemic which broke out at Rouen that year ; 
 and, not long afterwards, her mother married again, 
 her second husband being one Antoine La Gu6rault or 
 Lagurault, a well-to-do landed proprietor in the neigh- 
 bourhood. The girl and her brother Nicolas, who 
 was also to achieve distinction on the boards, seem to 
 have received a fair education ; but, either because she 
 
 1 Paul Foucher, Les Coulisses du Passe. 
 
 8 9
 
 90 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 was unhappy in the home of her stepfather, or because 
 she saw but little chance of the indispensable dot being 
 forthcoming, at the age of twenty-three, Marie decided 
 to tempt fortune on the stage. 
 
 At this period, there was no regular theatre at Rouen; 
 indeed, buildings reserved exclusively for dramatic per- 
 formances were hardly known outside the capital. There 
 were, however, two large tennis-courts, one situated in 
 the Rue des Charrettes, the other in the Rue Saint-Eloi, 
 the proprietors of which were always ready, at a few 
 hours* notice, to convert them into temples of Thespis 
 for the accommodation of any travelling company which 
 happened to be visiting the town. M. Noury, the 
 lady's latest biographer, thinks that it was in the second 
 of these, called the Jen de Paume des Braques, where 
 Moliere's troupe had played in 1643, and again in 1658, 
 that Marie Desmares made her dlbut. 
 
 By Marie's side, a young actor from Paris, Charles 
 Chevillet by name, made his bow to the public. This 
 young man, who was a few months younger than his 
 fair colleague, was the son of a worthy silk-merchant 
 of the Rue Saint-Honore. 1 Chevillet pere, being of 
 a practical turn of mind, had endeavoured to inspire 
 his son with a taste for his own trade. But, as ill-luck 
 would have it, the theatre of the Petit-Bourbon, where 
 Moliere's troupe was then established, was situated 
 within easy distance of his shop, and, after attending 
 the performances for some little time, Charles came 
 
 1 And not of a marchana des rubans, of the Pont-au- Change, as o 
 many writers state, so that the epigram of Le Noble : 
 
 " Tu les as mesure sans doute [tes vers] a 1'aune antique 
 Dont jadis ton papa mesurant ses rubans," 
 
 loses its point.
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL 9 i 
 
 to the conclusion that measuring and matching silks 
 was altogether too prosaic a calling for him. Accord- 
 ingly, one fine day he disappeared from Paris and 
 made his way to Rouen, where, according to the custom 
 of the time, in mounting the boards, he added to his 
 own patronymic an aristocratic pseudonym, and became 
 Charles Chevillet, Sieur de Champmesl6. 
 
 M. de Champmesl6, who is described as " a hand- 
 some man, with a distinguished air and extremely 
 polished manners," "witty and possessed of all that is 
 required to please and to command love," made a very 
 favourable impression upon Mile. Desmares. He, on 
 his side, admired her greatly, and very possibly foresaw 
 something of the great career which awaited her. They, 
 therefore, determined to share each other's fortunes, and 
 the young man, having paid a visit to Paris to obtain 
 his parents' consent, they were married on January 9, 
 1666, at the church of Saint-Eloi, at Rouen. 
 
 In view of what we have already said about the 
 practice of the Church in regard to the theatrical pro- 
 fession, it is not without interest to note that the acte de 
 mariage states that the parties " practised the vocation of 
 players," and that the banns had been published, "notwith- 
 standing the fact that they had no intention of abandon- 
 ing the exercise of their profession at lawful times." 
 
 The young couple continued playing in Rouen and 
 the neighbourhood until the summer of 1668, when, 
 alarmed, apparently by the plague, which was devas- 
 tating Normandy, they removed to Paris. Here Champ- 
 mesl, who was by this time a very capable actor, was 
 soon invited to join the company of the Theatre du 
 Marais; and, at the beginning of the following year, his 
 wife was offered a place in the same troupe.
 
 92 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Mile, de Champmesle made her first appearance on 
 the Paris stage on February 15, 1669, in La Ffae de 
 Wnus, an insipid pastoral, by the Abbe Boyer, in which 
 she impersonated the goddess and was much applauded. 
 In the early months of 1670 she secured two other 
 triumphs. The first was in an " heroic comedy," called 
 Polycrate, also by Boyer ; and it spoke volumes for the 
 talent and charm of the young actress that the audience 
 should have been content to sit through and applaud 
 five acts of what appears to have been an almost worth- 
 less play. Her second success was gained in Les Amours 
 de Vtnus et Adonis, a tragedy by Donneau de Vise, in 
 which she again represented the goddess, and Robinet 
 chanted her praises : 
 
 " La belle desse Vnus, 
 Et dans ce role cette actrice 
 Est une parfaite enchantrice." 
 
 But Mile, de Champmesle was but half satisfied with 
 such successes. She was ambitious, and felt that at 
 the Marais her talents had not sufficient scope. The 
 old theatre, as we have said elsewhere, had now fallen 
 on evil days ; the pieces represented there seemed sorry 
 stuff indeed in comparison with the comedies of Moliere 
 and the tragedies of Racine ; it was the Palais-Royal 
 and the Hotel de Bourgogne which divided the suffrages 
 of the playgoing public ; the salle in the Rue Vieille-du- 
 Temple was at times well-nigh deserted. She knew 
 that her true vocation was in tragedy ; not in tragedy 
 such as the third-class dramatists who wrote for the 
 Theatre du Marais penned, but in plays like the Cid 
 and Polyeucte, Alexandre and Andromaque. On first 
 arriving in Paris, she had had the good sense to
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL6 93 
 
 recognise that her talents were as yet insufficiently 
 developed to allow of her attempting the great roles 
 of Corneille and Racine ; but now circumstances had 
 changed. Her acting had had the good fortune to 
 attract the attention of a member of the Marais troupe 
 named Laroque, whose acquaintance she had made at 
 Rouen. Laroque, as is not infrequently the case, 
 though only a moderate performer, was an admirable 
 instructor ; and, perceiving in his young colleague great 
 possibilities, had devoted much time and care to per- 
 fecting her in her art, and with the happiest results. 
 Accordingly, at Easter 1770, Mile. Champmesl and 
 her husband quitted the Rue Vieille-du-Temple for 
 the Hotel de Bourgogne. " Here she met Racine and 
 glory." 
 
 The Hotel de Bourgogne reopened after the Easter 
 recess with a revival of Racine's Andromaque, which 
 three years before had aroused an enthusiasm the like of 
 which had not been witnessed since the days of the Cid. 
 The part of Hermione was to have been taken by Mile. 
 Des QEillets, who had created it ; but she was lying ill 
 of a malady from which she died not long afterwards, 
 and it was in consequence decided to entrust it to Mile. 
 Champmesl6. Racine, who knew nothing of the new 
 recruit, and feared that such a difficult role might suffer 
 in the hands of an actress who had never interpreted 
 anything more important than the insipid heroines of 
 Boyer and Vise, refused at first to attend the per- 
 formance, and, though he ultimately consented to be 
 present, did so with evident reluctance. His appre- 
 hensions were groundless. " Mile, de Champmesle's 
 rendering of the first two acts was very weak," relates 
 the Abbe de Laporte in his Annales dramatiques. These
 
 94 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 acts, where Hermione is in turn attracted and repelled 
 by Pyrrhus, require a profound knowledge of the stage 
 and great finesse. But in the last acts, where she is a 
 frenzied lover, with whom jealousy carries all before it 
 and to whom a supreme betrayal leaves nothing but 
 vengeance to live for, she retrieved her ground so com- 
 pletely, threw so much fire into her acting, and rendered 
 the passions with such real fervour that she was enthusi- 
 astically applauded." 
 
 At the conclusion of the play, Racine, enraptured 
 with the young actress's rendering of his heroine, 
 hurried to her dressing-room, and, falling on his knees, 
 overwhelmed her with compliments and thanks. A few 
 days later, Mile. Des CEillets was sufficiently recovered 
 to pay a visit to the theatre to witness the performance 
 of the new star ; and, when the curtain fell, was seen 
 to throw up her hands and exclaim sorrowfully : 
 " Des CEillets is no more ! " words which, coming 
 from an actress who sees herself dethroned by an under- 
 study, are more eloquent than the most exhaustive 
 commentary. 
 
 Overjoyed at finding that such an actress had arisen, 
 Racine gave his new interpreter lessons in elocution, " at 
 the same time studying her natural peculiarities, with a 
 view to making them serviceable in any character he 
 might wish her to represent." According to the poet's 
 son, Louis Racine, Mile, de Champmesle owed her sub- 
 sequent successes entirely to his father's teaching. " As 
 he had formed Baron," he says, " he formed the Champ- 
 mesle, but with far more trouble. He made her under- 
 stand the verses which she had to recite, showed her the 
 gestures which were appropriate to each passage, and 
 dictated to her the emphasis which she must employ."
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL 95 
 
 There can be no doubt that Mile, de Champmesle owed 
 much to Racine's tuition, but it is equally certain thai; 
 she had great natural gifts as an actress, the chief of 
 which were a peculiar grace of movement and the 
 greatest of all theatrical seductions, a most enchanting 
 voice, which moved La Fontaine to write : 
 
 " Est-il quelqu'un que votre voix n'enchante ? 
 S'en trouve-t-il une aussi touchante, 
 Un autre allant si droit au coeur ? " 
 
 The flexibility of her voice appears to have been 
 quite extraordinary. Melodious, soft, and caressing in 
 roles like Iphignie or Monime, it became so powerful 
 and sonorous in such parts as Phedre, Roxane, and 
 Hermione that, it is said, when the door of the box at 
 the end of the salle happened to be open, it could be 
 heard at the Cafe Procope, over the way. " The recita- 
 tion of actors in tragedy," says the anonymous author 
 of the Entretiens galants^ " is a kind of chant, and you 
 will readily admit that the Champmesle would not please 
 you so much, if her voice were less agreeable. But she 
 has learned to modulate it with so much skill, and she 
 lends to her words such natural tones, that it would 
 seem that she really has in her heart the passions she 
 expresses with her mouth." In pathetic passages, we 
 are told, she drew tears from the eyes of the most 
 hardened playgoers. " It was amusing to watch the 
 ladies sighing and drying their eyes and the men laugh- 
 ing at them, while they themselves were hard put to 
 restrain their emotion." 
 
 There seems to be some difference of opinion as to 
 whether Mile, de Champmesl was strictly beautiful. 
 According to the Brothers Parfaict, " her skin was not
 
 96 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 clear, and her eyes were very small and round." On the 
 other hand, she was " of a fine shape, well made and 
 noble," and " her defects were, so to speak, counter- 
 balanced by the natural graces spread over her whole 
 person." Louis Racine, though he denies her talent, 
 admits that she was handsome ; while Madame de 
 Sevign6 tells us that she was " almost plain," but 
 " adorable upon the stage." However that may be, she 
 did not lack for admirers, and Racine, who, two years 
 before, had lost his mistress, the beautiful Mile, du Pare 
 the actress who had in turn rejected the addresses of 
 Moliere, Pierre Corneille, and La Fontaine speedily fell 
 in love with her, and installed her in the vacant place 
 in his affections, M. de Champmesle accepting his dis- 
 honour with fashionable complacency. Henceforth, as 
 Moliere had written for his wife, Racine wrote for his 
 mistress, who created all his great heroines, and " invest- 
 ing them with her own charm, became in truth the 
 collaboratrice of the poet." 
 
 " Bdnissons de 1'amour 1'influence divine, 
 C'est a toi, Champmesle, que nous devons Racine, 
 II crivait pour toi, de t& plaire occupd, 
 Son vers coulait plus doux de son coeur 6chappe." 
 
 In the early spring of 1670, Louis XIV. 's sister-in- 
 law, the ill-fated Henrietta of England, daughter of 
 Charles I., persuaded Corneille and Racine to write each 
 a tragedy on the story of Titus and Berenice, without 
 each other's knowledge, and consequently without the 
 knowledge of any one else. Her object in so doing was, 
 in all probability, merely to bring the relative merits 
 of the two great dramaists to a decisive test, though 
 rumour assigned a romantic reason for her choice of the
 
 /.V .i.-in.' 'iff f/i'rr/fi- </rt>i.t tt,< iti'M 
 
 [','( iinAit hind tins <'>>:' 
 
 ' n**ft+>> 
 
 JEAN RACINE 
 From an engraving by VERTUE
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL6 97 
 
 subject, to wit, a desire to see upon the stage a little 
 story analogous to that of her one-time relations with 
 Louis XIV. Madamis death, famous for its disputed 
 causes and Bossuet's funeral oration, occurred in the 
 following June ; but this did not interfere with the com- 
 pletion of the plays, which were produced within a few 
 days of one another, the secret having been so well kept 
 that until then neither of the poets had the faintest 
 conception that they had been simultaneously engaged 
 on the same subject. 
 
 Racine was the first in the field, his Berenice being 
 produced at the Hotel de Bourgogne on November 21, 
 Floridor playing Titus, and Mile, de Champmesl6 the 
 beautiful Jewess. Corneille's Tite et Berenice appeared 
 at the Palais-Royal, eight days later, with La Thorilliere 
 and Mile. Moliere in the title-parts. 
 
 The result of the duel to which the two dramatists 
 found themselves, all unwittingly, committed was wholly 
 in favour of the younger, Corneille's play, notwithstanding 
 some fine passages, being unworthy of his reputation. 1 
 It was probably to this fact and to the admirable acting 
 of Mile, de Champmesl6, rather than to any special 
 merits of his own, that Racine was indebted for his easy 
 triumph. Approved by the king and applauded by the 
 public, his Berenice remained in the bills until after the 
 thirtieth performance ; but it did not please the critics, 
 Boileau declaring that had he been consulted he would 
 have endeavoured to dissuade his friend from under- 
 
 1 It was performed twenty-one times, and the average receipts were 
 680 livres. But for twenty-four representations of Molire's comedy, 
 the Bourgeois gentilhomme, which was played concurrently with Tite et 
 Berenice, the average takings were 1000 livres. Corneille received 2000 
 livres for his play, the same amount as Moliere had paid him for Att'tla. 
 
 G
 
 9 8 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 taking so poor a theme ; while Chapelle, when asked 
 by Racine for his opinion, replied in two verses of an 
 old song : 
 
 " Marion pleure, Marion crie, 
 Marion veut qu'on la marie." 
 
 An answer which nearly caused a quarrel between him 
 and the poet. 
 
 To Btrtnice, early in the following January, suc- 
 ceeded Baiazef, Mile, de Champmesle playing the part 
 of Roxane. Madame de Sevign6 attended the fifth 
 performance, and next day writes to Madame de 
 Grignan : " We have been to see the new play by 
 Racine, and thought it admirable. My daughter-in-law 1 
 is, in my opinion, the best performer I ever saw. She 
 is a hundred leagues in front of Des CEillets, and I, 
 who am supposed to have some talent for acting, am 
 not worthy to light the candles when she appears. . . . 
 I wish you had been with me that afternoon ; I am 
 sure you would not have thought your time ill spent. 
 You would have dropped a tear or two, for I myself 
 shed twenty ; besides, you would have greatly admired 
 your sister-in-law." Bajazet printed, the Marchioness 
 sent her daughter a copy : " If I could send Champ- 
 mesle with it, you would find the tragedy among the 
 best ; without her, it loses half its value. Racine's plays 
 are written for Champmesle, and not for posterity. 
 Whenever he grows old and ceases to be in love, it 
 will be seen whether or not I am mistaken.*' 8 
 
 Mile, de Champmesle did not by any means confine 
 her creations to her lover's heroines ; the repertoire of 
 
 1 Seep. 1 08 infra. 2 Letter of January 13, 1673 
 
 8 Letter of March 1673.
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL 99 
 
 the Hotel de Bourgogne was a rich one. Thus, in 
 March of that same year, she appeared in the title- 
 part in Ariane, a new tragedy by her fellow-townsman, 
 Thomas Corneille. This play was praised by some 
 critics, but, in all probability, owed its success almost 
 entirely to her impersonation of the heroine, " which 
 drew the public as the light draws the moth." Madame 
 de Sevign was again among the audience, and wrote of 
 the actress in terms of enthusiasm : " The Champmesle 
 is something so extraordinary that in your life you never 
 saw any one like her. It is the actress that people flock 
 to see, not the play. I went to Ariane entirely for the 
 sake of seeing her. The tragedy is insipid ; the rest 
 of the players wretched. But when the Champmesle 
 appears, every one is enthralled, and the tears of the 
 audience flow at her despair." l 
 
 When, seven years later, Mile, de Champmesle 
 migrated to the Th64tre Guenegaud, it was in Ariane 
 that she secured her first triumph. " Ariane" wrote 
 Donneau de Vise in the Mercure, " has been extremely 
 well attended. Mile, de Champmesle, that inimitable 
 actress, has drawn tears from the majority of the audi- 
 ence." The natural manner of her acting and her 
 pathetic rendering of the hapless heroine gave indeed 
 to the play a new lease of life. 
 
 Another brilliant success awaited her in the part of 
 Monime, in Racine's Mithridate, produced on January 
 13, 1673, the day after its author's reception at the 
 Academy. The play was received with enthusiasm ; 
 and Madame de Coulanges wrote to Madame de Sevigne, 
 then on a visit to her daughter, in Provence : " Mithri- 
 date is charming ; you see it thirty times, and the thirtieth 
 1 Letter of April 1673.
 
 ioo QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 it seems finer than the first." On March 4, it was 
 played at Saint-Cloud, before Monsieur (the Due 
 d'Orleans), the Duke of Monmouth, Madame de Guise, 
 the Princesse de Monaco, and other distinguished per- 
 sons ; and, in the following August, at Saint-Ouen, 
 where Boisfranc, Surintendant des Finances to Monsieur, 
 was entertaining a party from the Court. For her role, 
 which was a most exacting one Mile. Clairon con- 
 fesses in her Mdmoires, that she had never succeeded in 
 playing it entirely to her satisfaction Mile, de Champ- 
 mesle appears to have received very careful instruction 
 from Racine ; and the critics were agreed that seldom 
 had anything more expressive and charming than her 
 acting been seen. She was particularly admirable in the 
 scene in the third act, where Monime inadvertently con- 
 fesses to the jealous Mithridate her love for his son 
 Xiphanes. " Her cry of anguish when she sees that she 
 has betrayed the secret of her heart, sent a shudder 
 through every vein of the spectators and transported them 
 with emotion." Brossette tells us that one day, when 
 dining with Boileau, the conversation turned on the 
 subject of declamation, whereupon the poet repeated 
 this passage in the tone of Mile, de Champmesle, as 
 a perfect example of the art. 
 
 While Mile, de Champmesle continued her successes, 
 Racine completed his eighth tragedy, Iphigdnie en Aulide^ 
 which was produced at Versailles (August 17, 1674), on 
 the occasion of the magnificent divertissements which 
 Louis XIV. gave to his Court on his return from the 
 conquest of Franche-Comte. This time the perform- 
 ance was given in the open air, in the gardens of the 
 chateau. "The scenery," says Andre Felibien, in his 
 1 Letter of February 24, 1673.
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL 101 
 
 account of the fe"tes, " represented a long alley of ver- 
 dure ; on either side were the basins of fountains, and, 
 at intervals, grottoes of rustic workmanship, but very 
 delicately finished. On their entablature rose a balus- 
 trade, on which were arranged vases of porcelain filled 
 with flowers. The basins of the fountains were of white 
 marble supported by gilded tritons, and in these basins 
 one saw others of greater height, which bore tall statues 
 of gold. The alley terminated at the back of the 
 theatre in awnings, which were connected with those 
 covering the orchestra, and beyond appeared a long 
 alley, which was the alley of the Orangery itself, 
 bordered on both sides by tall orange- and pomegranate- 
 trees, interspersed with several vases of porcelain con- 
 taining various kinds of flowers. Between each tree were 
 large candelabra and stands of gold and azure, which 
 supported girandoles of crystal lighted by several candles. 
 This alley terminated in a marble portico ; the pilasters 
 which supported the cornice were of lapis, and the door 
 was all of gold work." 1 
 
 In writing Iphigfaie, Racine had departed considerably 
 from his Greek model, discarding the catastrophe in 
 favour of the legend as recorded by Pausanias, wherein 
 it is discovered, at the eleventh hour, that not the 
 daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, but another 
 princess is the victim intended by the gods. Inferior 
 to the noble tragedy of Euripides, the play was, 
 nevertheless, generally acknowledged to be an advance 
 on anything that Racine had yet attempted, and 
 
 1 Les divertissements de Versailles donnez par le roy a toute sa cour, au 
 retour de la conquests de la Franche-Comte, en Vannee 1674 : Paris, 1676, 
 folio. A copy of this very rare and valuable work, with its beautiful engrav- 
 ings by La Paute and Chaviveau, is in the possession of the British Museum.
 
 102 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 was a brilliant and unanimous success ; a success of 
 emotion, to which Mile, de Champmesle's pathetic 
 impersonation of the young Greek virgin probably con- 
 tributed as much as the subject itself, and inspired 
 Boileau to the lines : 
 
 "Jamais Iphig^nie en Aulide immol^e, 
 N'a cont tant de pleurs a la Grece assemble, 
 Que dans 1'heureux spectacle a nos yeux 6tal6 
 En a fait, sous son nom, verser la Champme'leV 
 
 The capital witnessed the new play in the early days 
 of January 1675, and confirmed the judgment of the 
 Court : indeed, for once, criticism appears to have been 
 almost silenced, and the worst that Barbier d'Aucour, a 
 bitter detractor of the poet, could find to say, was that 
 Iphigtnie had caused a rise in the price of handkerchiefs. 
 
 After Iphigtnie, Mile, de Champmesl became the 
 idol of the playgoing public, and "all Paris" flocked 
 to the Hotel de Bourgogne, seemingly indifferent to the 
 bill, provided they could see the now famous actress. 
 For nearly two years, however, no role at all commen- 
 surate with her abilities appears to have fallen to her lot ; 
 for Racine was at work on a new tragedy, which, had 
 he never written anything else, would have sufficed to 
 ensure him a high place among tragic dramatists. The 
 story goes that one day, in Madame La Fayette's salon, 
 Racine contended that it was within the power of a great 
 poet to make the darkest crimes appear more or less ex- 
 cusable nay, to arouse compassion for the criminals them- 
 selves. In his opinion, even Medea and Phasdra might 
 become objects of pity rather than abhorrence upon the 
 stage. From this view his hearers dissented strongly, 
 showing indeed some inclination to turn it into ridicule ;
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL6 103 
 
 whereupon, in order to convince them of their error, 
 the dramatist determined to measure his strength once 
 more against that of Euripides, and to make the fatal 
 passion of Phaedra for her stepson the subject of a 
 tragedy. 1 
 
 But alas ! Phldre et Hippolyte was not destined to take 
 its place as the greatest tragedy of the French classical 
 school without bringing cruel mortification to its author. 
 Racine, by his success, had made many enemies and 
 many more by the caustic wit which he was in the habit 
 of exercising at the expense of any one who happened 
 to incur his displeasure. Among those whom he had 
 contrived to offend were the Duchesse de Bouillon, the 
 fourth of the famous Mancini sisters, and Madame 
 Deshoulieres, a clever but pretentious poetess, whose 
 verses Racine had, perhaps unduly, depreciated. No 
 sooner did the two ladies in question ascertain the 
 subject of the forthcoming play than they engaged a 
 young and conceited poet named Pradon, author of a 
 couple of indifferent tragedies, to enter the lists against 
 the famous dramatist and compose a rival Phedre, to 
 be produced at the Theatre Gudndgaud simultaneously 
 with the appearance of Racine's at the Hotel de Bour- 
 gogne. Pradon had only three months allowed him ; 
 but, nothing daunted, he set to work and completed his 
 task within the allotted time and to his own entire 
 satisfaction. In his vanity, he made no secret of his 
 intention of measuring swords with Racine ; and Boileau 
 represented to his friend that it would be more in keeping 
 with his dignity to decline the challenge and postpone 
 the production of his play. But the latter, stung to the 
 
 1 Hawkins, "Annals of the French Stage," ii. 116.
 
 io 4 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 quick by the conspiracy which had been formed against 
 him, and urged on by Mile, de Champmesle, " who had 
 learned her part and wanted money," decided that it 
 should appear on the date originally fixed. 
 
 The play was accordingly produced on New Year's 
 Day 1677, Mile, de Champmesle, of course, impersonat- 
 ing the heroine. Pradon's tragedy was to have appeared 
 on the same evening ; but the difficulty of finding an actress 
 willing to undertake the principal role it was refused 
 by both Mile, de Brie and Mile. Moliere necessitated 
 a postponement of two days, when Mile, du Pin, a 
 capable, but by no means brilliant, performer, played 
 Phedre. Pradon ascribed the refusals of the two leading 
 actresses of the company to the machinations of Racine 
 and his friends ; but, though Racine was certainly not 
 over-scrupulous in his dealings with his professional 
 rivals, it is more probable that the ladies in question 
 were, not unnaturally, reluctant to challenge comparison 
 with the all-conquering Mile, de Champmesle, in a 
 part which was obviously so much better suited to her 
 talents than to theirs. 
 
 All went well at the Hotel de Bourgogne the 
 first evening. M. de Champmesle himself took posses- 
 sion of the box-office, and when any of the leaders of 
 the rival faction appeared, courteously informed them 
 that every seat in the front part of the house was already 
 occupied ; the result being that Racine's admirers had 
 the theatre to themselves, and the play was accorded 
 a reception which could not fail to satisfy the most 
 exacting dramatist. The following evening, however, 
 matters were very different ; to the chagrin of the author 
 and the astonishment of the company, every box on the 
 first tier was empty ! The same thing occurred the
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL6 105 
 
 next evening and the next after that, while, to increase 
 the mystery and the poet's mortification, the boxes at 
 the Theatre Guen^gaud were reported as crowded with 
 applauding spectators. The explanation was that the 
 Duchesse de Bouillon, in her determination to secure 
 the success of her prottgfs play and the ruin of her 
 enemy's, had adopted the ingenious device of engaging 
 in advance all the front seats at both houses, filling those 
 at the Theatre Guenegaud with her friends and leaving 
 the others empty. 
 
 Racine was in despair; for that not inconsiderable 
 section of the public which judges of the merits of a 
 play solely by results was beginning to declare that his 
 tragedy was a complete failure and Pradon's a brilliant 
 success. After, however, the trick had been played for 
 three more nights, he triumphed. Perhaps Madame de 
 Bouillon had begun to find her amusement, which is said 
 to have cost her 15,000 francs, the equivalent of five 
 times as much to-day, somewhat too costly a one ; or 
 possibly Racine, discovering the tactics of his enemies, 
 had appealed to the king for protection, and the duchess 
 had received a hint from his Majesty that such practices 
 were highly displeasing to him. Any way, the lady 
 retired from the field, and, with her withdrawal, the rival 
 Phtdres speedily found their respective levels. Never- 
 theless, in spite of his ultimate success, Racine never 
 forgot the mortification to which he had been subjected, 
 and there can be no doubt that this had not a little 
 to do with his decision to renounce writing for the 
 stage. 
 
 When Phedre was played before the Court, Mile, de 
 Champmesl6, fearing that Madame de Montespan might 
 take the lines afterwards addressed on a memorable
 
 io6 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 occasion by Adrienne Lecouvrier to the Duchesse de 
 
 Bouillon : 
 
 " Je suis mes perfidies 
 
 CEnone, et ne suis pas de ces femmes hardies 
 Qui, goutant dans la crime une tranquille paix, 
 Ont su se faire un front qui ne rougit jamais " 
 
 to apply to herself, begged Racine to alter or erase them. 
 The poet, however, though he yielded the palm to no 
 one as a flatterer of royalty, and was, moreover, under 
 considerable obligations to the king's mistress, indig- 
 nantly refused to mutilate his play. Several of those 
 present remarked upon the verses ; but Madame de 
 Montespan had too much good sense to complain. 
 
 As Phedre, the declamation of which, according to 
 the Abbe du Bois, Racine " had taught her verse by 
 verse," Mile, de Champmesle seems to have put the 
 comble upon her fame as a tragedienne. Of all her 
 creations, it is the one that La Fontaine names first in 
 the frontispiece of Eelphegor : 
 
 " Qui ne connait 1'inimitable actrice 
 Representant Phedre on Berenice, 
 Chimene en pleurs ou Camille en fureur ? 
 Est-il quelqu'un qui cette voix n'enchante ? " 
 
 So inimitable was she in this character, affording her as 
 it did an opportunity for the display of all the resources 
 of her art, that Phedre was the play selected to consecrate 
 the birth of the Comedie-Fran9aise on Sunday, August 
 25, 1680; and it was Phedre again, with Mile, de 
 Champmesl6 in the title-part, which inaugurated the 
 new playhouse in the Rue des Fosses-Saint-Germain, on 
 April 1 6, 1689.1 
 
 1 M. J. Noury, La Champmctle, p. 193.
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL 107 
 
 The popularity of Mile. Champmesle was not con- 
 fined to the theatre. Her house was " the rendezvous 
 of all persons of distinction of the Court and the town, 
 as well as of the most celebrated writers of the time." 
 Among the former were Charles de Sevign, Madame de 
 Sevigne's troublesome son, the Marquis de la Fare, the 
 author of the curious and all-too-brief memoirs, and the 
 Comtes de Revel and Clermont-Tonnerre. The latter, 
 besides Racine, included Boileau, Valincourt, Racine's 
 successor at the Academy, Chapelle, and La Fontaine, 
 " who very much regretted that he was only a friend " 
 of his charming hostess. The utmost cordiality and an 
 entire absence of the restraints of etiquette characterised 
 these gatherings, and noblemen and writers met on a 
 footing of perfect equality. " Permit me to address 
 you," writes Boileau to the Comte de Revel, in April 
 1701, "in the familiar tone to which you formerly 
 accustomed me at the house of the famous Champ- 
 mesle." 
 
 The actress's liaison with Racine was not only public 
 but accepted by the easy morality of the day ; Madame 
 de Sevigne jests about it in her letters, and La Fontaine, 
 writing to Mile, de Champmesle, mentions it as the 
 most natural thing in the world. Many years afterwards, 
 Boileau reminds Racine of the numerous bottles of 
 champagne which were drunk by the lady's accommodating 
 husband. " You know," adds he, " at whose expense." 
 
 According to M. Larroumet, Racine's latest bio- 
 grapher, the poet's passion for the interpreter of his 
 heroines was of a less defensible kind than that which he 
 had felt for her predecessor in his affections, Mile, du 
 Pare, " with whom he had experienced a sentiment which 
 had the dignity of love." M. Larroumet is of opinion
 
 io8 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 that " he only loved her with the facile love which the 
 professionals of gallantry frequently inspire." 
 
 However that may be, the lady appears to have been 
 very far from faithful to the poet. An epigram by 
 Boileau, which is rather too gai for us to transcribe, 
 speaks of " six lovers " (including the husband), and of 
 M. de Champmesle living on the best of terms with the 
 others and his wife. The favoured gentlemen appear to 
 have been Racine and the four noblemen mentioned 
 above. But the only one of the four about whose rela- 
 tions with the actress we have any details is Charles de 
 Sevigne. 
 
 This young gentleman seems to have had something 
 of the Oriental in his temperament ; for, at the time that 
 he was paying court to the actress, he was " wearing the 
 chains of Ninon, this same Ninon who corrupted the 
 morals of his father." 1 The celebrated Ninon de Lenclos, 
 it may be mentioned, was then in her fifty-sixth year, but 
 still retained much of her former fascination ; indeed, if 
 tradition is to be believed, she had lovers when she was 
 over eighty ! 
 
 Madame de Sevigne was much distressed by the con- 
 duct of her son. " Madame de la Fayette and I are 
 using every effort to wean him from so dangerous an 
 attachment," she writes to her daughter. " Besides, he 
 has a little actress (Mile, de Champmesle) and all the 
 Despreaux and the Racines. There are delicious suppers 
 that is to say, diableries" Then, on March 1 8 : " Your 
 brother is at Saint-Germain. He divides his time between 
 Ninon and a little actress, and, to crown all, Despreaux. 
 
 1 Letter of Madame de Sevigne to Madame de Grignan, March 1 3, 
 1671.
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESLE 109 
 
 We lead him a sad life. Ye gods, what folly ! Ye gods, 
 what folly ! " 
 
 From the above passages, it would appear that Racine 
 and his friend Boileau were not exactly in the odour of 
 sanctity with their contemporaries ; indeed, both were 
 evidently regarded as corrupters of youth by anxious 
 mothers like Madame de Sevign. 
 
 Three weeks later, we learn that M. de Sevign6 is not 
 prospering in his love-affairs ; Ninon has dismissed him, 
 and Mile, de Champmesl6 is on the point of following 
 her example : "A word or two concerning your brother. 
 Ninon has given him his conge. She is tired of loving 
 without being loved in return ; she has insisted upon his 
 returning her letters, which he has accordingly done. I 
 was not a little pleased at the separation. I gave him a 
 hint of the duty he owed to God, reminded him of his 
 former good sentiments, and entreated him not to stifle 
 all notion of religion in his breast. But this is not all ; 
 when one side fails us, we think to repair it with the other, 
 and are deceived. The young Merveille (Mile, de Champ- 
 mesle) has not broken with him, but she will soon, I 
 believe. . . . The poor Chimene says she sees plainly 
 that he no longer loves her, and has applied himself else- 
 where. In short, this affair makes me laugh ; but I wish 
 sincerely it may be the means of weaning him from a 
 state so offensive to God and hurtful to his own soul. 
 Ninon told him that he was a pompion fricasseed in snow. 
 See what it is to keep good company ! One learns such 
 elegant expressions." 
 
 Then, on April 17, Madame de SeVigne informs her 
 daughter that the young gentleman's health has broken 
 down under the strain of " the abandoned life he had 
 led during Holy Week,'* and that he can " scarcely bear
 
 no QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 a woman in his presence." Profiting by his remorse, his 
 fond mother becomes his confessor : " I took the oppor- 
 tunity to preach him a little sermon on the subject, and 
 we both indulged in some Christian reflections. He 
 seems to approve my sentiments, particularly now that 
 his disgust is at its height. He showed me some letters 
 that he had recovered from his actress. I never read 
 anything so warm, so passionate ; he wept, he died ; he 
 believed it all while he was writing it, and laughed at it 
 a moment afterwards. I assure you that he is worth his 
 weight in gold." 
 
 Finally, on April 22, the marchioness writes that all 
 is at an end between her son and Mile, de Champmesl6, and 
 that she has been instrumental in preventing the young 
 man from playing a singularly mean trick upon his former 
 enchantress : " He has left his actress at last, after having 
 followed her everywhere. When he saw her, he was in 
 earnest ; a moment later, he would make the greatest 
 game of her. Ninon has completely discarded him ; he 
 was miserable while she loved him, and now that she 
 loves him no longer, he is in absolute despair. She 
 wished him, the other day, to give her the letters he had 
 received from his actress, which he did. You must know 
 that she was jealous of that princess, and wanted to show 
 them to a lover of hers, in the hope of procuring her a 
 few blows with a belt. He came and told me, when I 
 pointed out to him how shameful it was to treat this 
 little creature so badly, merely for having loved him ; 
 that she had not shown people his letters, as some would 
 have him believe, but, on the contrary, had returned them 
 to him again ; that such treacherous conduct was un- 
 worthy of a man of quality, and that there was a degree 
 of honour to be observed, even in things dishonourable in
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL& in 
 
 themselves. He acquiesced in the justice of my remarks, 
 hurried at once to Ninon's house, and, partly by strategy 
 and partly by force, got the poor devil's letters out of her 
 hands. I made him burn them. You see by this what 
 a regard I have for the reputation of an actress." 
 
 According to M. Gueullette {Acteurs et Actrices du 
 temps passe), Racine, though deeply in love with Mile, de 
 Champmesl6, supported patiently the numerous infideli- 
 ties of the lady, " so long as he believed them to be passing 
 fancies and that he was still beloved." But when the 
 actress embarked upon a more serious love-affair with the 
 Comte de Clermont-Tonnerre, and a wit wrote 
 
 " A la plus tendre amour elle fut destine 
 Qui prit longtemps Racine dans son coeur : 
 Mais, par un insigne malheur, 
 Le Tonnerre est venu, qui Ta deracinte " 
 
 he was so bitterly mortified that he left her never to 
 return. 
 
 The brothers Parfaict and d'Allainval assert that 
 disgust at his treatment at the hands of Mile, de Champ- 
 mesle was the immediate cause of Racine's retirement 
 from dramatic authorship, at the age of thirty-eight, at 
 the height of his talent, in the heyday of his success ; for 
 after Phedre he wrote but two more plays, Esther and 
 Athalie, which were performed by the young girls of Saint- 
 Cyr, and were not seen upon the Paris stage until many 
 years after his death. This, however, is very unlikely, 
 and it is quite possible, as M. Larroumet suggests, that 
 Racine, instead of abandoning the theatre, because Mile, 
 de Champmesl6 had discarded him, discarded the actress, 
 because he had abandoned the theatre. The poet's retire- 
 ment indeed seems to have been attributable to several
 
 ii2 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 different motives : disgust at the shameful cabal against 
 Phldre and the various annoyances to which it gave rise ; 
 the fear that a repetition of such tactics might jeopardise 
 his position as the greatest tragic dramatist of his time ; 
 weariness of a dissipated life, and, above all, the awaken- 
 ing, after a sleep of many years, of the religious senti- 
 ments with which his old teachers of Port-Royal had 
 inspired him in youth. Indignation at Mile. Champ- 
 mesle's conduct may, of course, have had something to 
 do with the positive antipathy to the theatre which he 
 manifested in his last years ;* but to assert that it was the 
 cause of his renunciation of a profession which had 
 brought him fame and fortune is to credit him with a 
 capacity for sincere affection which he certainly never 
 possessed. 
 
 With Racine departed not a little of the immense 
 popularity which the theatre had enjoyed during the past 
 half-century, for though of capable actors there was, for- 
 tunately, no lack, dramatists of even moderate ability 
 were few and far between. In place of Andromaques 
 and Iphigtnies and Phedres, Mile, de Champmesl6 had 
 to resign herself to appear in such deservedly-forgotten 
 plays as the Achille of Thomas Corneille, the Argelie of 
 the Abbe Abeille, and the Troade of Pradon. Neverthe- 
 less, despite the barrenness of the field in which she 
 laboured, she contrived to gather fresh laurels, and her 
 masterly impersonation of Queen Elizabeth in Thomas 
 
 1 "You know," he wrote to his son, Louis Racine, "what I have 
 said to you about operas and plays ; there will probably be some perfor- 
 mances at Marly ; the King and the Court are aware of the scruples which 
 I entertain about attending them, and they will have a poor opinion of you, 
 if you show so little regard for my sentiments. I know that you will not 
 be dishonoured before men should you go to the play, but do you count it 
 nothing to be dishonoured before God ? "
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL 113 
 
 Corneille's Comte cT Essex (January 1678) was enthusias- 
 tically received, and secured for a mediocre play a success 
 out of all proportion to its merits. "One might have 
 said of her," remarks M. Noury, "as a critic said of 
 Adrienne Lecouvreur, after seeing her in the same part, 
 * I have seen a queen among actors.' She possessed, in 
 fact, majesty.'* 
 
 At Easter 1679, ^ n consequence of some dissensions 
 with their colleagues, Mile, de Champmesle and her hus- 
 band quitted the Hotel de Bourgogne, where they had 
 played for nineteen years, for the Theatre Gunegaud, 
 which, by a contract dated April 12, awarded them, " in 
 gratitude," in addition to a full share of the profits, an 
 annual allowance of one thousand livres. All her con- 
 temporaries are agreed that this defection was the prin- 
 cipal cause of the fusion of the two troupes in the follow- 
 ing year. Deprived of the services of the famous actress, 
 the Hotel de Bourgogne was no longer able to cope 
 with its powerful rivals in the Rue Mazarine. 
 
 On the formation of the new company, the Champ- 
 mesles figured at the head of the list of the twenty-seven 
 players nominated by Louis XIV., and Mile. Champmesl6 
 was at once recognised as the mainstay of the theatre in 
 tragedy, as Mile. Moliere or rather Mile. Guerin, as she 
 had now become was in comedy. Her husband, too, 
 proved himself well worthy of his place, not only as an 
 actor, but as a playwright. His Parisien (produced Feb- 
 ruary 5, 1682), as we have said elsewhere, provided 
 Mile. GueYm with one of her greatest triumphs, and he 
 secured another success in his Fragments de Moliere y an 
 amusing piece, in which various characters from Moliere's 
 plays were introduced. 
 
 Mile, de Champmesle's successes did not make her 
 
 H
 
 n 4 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 forget her relatives. Her brother, Nicolas Desmares, 
 was at this time acting at Copenhagen, in the troupe 
 subsidised by Christian V. That monarch held the actor 
 and his wife, Anne d'Ennebaut, in high esteem, and, in 
 1682, in imitation of Louis XIV.'s conduct in regard 
 to Moliere, he and his queen stood sponsors to their 
 little daughter, Christine Antoinette Charlotte Desmares, 
 destined, in years to come, to emulate the triumphs of 
 her famous aunt. Three years later, Mile, de Champ- 
 mesle persuaded her brother to return to France, and 
 obtained from the King permission for him to be received 
 into the Comedie-Fransaise, " sans debut" For an actor 
 to be admitted a member of so famous a company with- 
 out being required to give proofs of his capabilities, was 
 a privilege which had never yet been accorded, and the 
 playgoing public was up in arms at what it was pleased 
 to consider a scandalous piece of nepotism. So great was 
 the indignation that when Desmares made his first appear- 
 ance, on May 7, 1685, in Tdramene, an angry scene was 
 apprehended ; but the new socittaire's acting was so 
 admirable that the hisses were soon drowned in a storm 
 of applause. 
 
 When, in 1689, the Comedie-Fran9aise, ousted from 
 the Rue Mazarine, migrated to its new home in the Rue 
 Neuve-des-Fosses-Saint-Germain, Mile, de Champmesle, 
 in spite of advancing years, continued her triumphant 
 career, her remarkable talents and enthusiasm enabling 
 her to secure some measure of success for even the most 
 insipid tragedy. Apart from revivals of the great master- 
 pieces of Corneille and Racine, perhaps her most notable 
 success was gained in the part of Judith in the Abbe 
 Boyer's tragedy of that name, produced in March 1795, 
 when she was in her fifty-fourth year. This play had a
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL 115 
 
 singular history. For some time it created a perfect 
 furore^ and the theatre could with difficulty accommodate 
 the crowds which presented themselves nightly at the 
 doors. "The seats on the stage," says Le Sage, "had 
 to be given up by the men to the women, whose hand- 
 kerchiefs were spread upon their knees, to wipe away the 
 tears to be called forth by touching passages. The 
 usual occupants of the seats had to be content with the 
 wings. In the fourth act, there was a scene which 
 proved particularly moving, and, for that reason, was 
 called the * scene des mouchoirs.'' The pit, where laughers 
 are always to be found, made itself merry at the expense of 
 these impressionable ladies, instead of weeping with them." 
 Intoxicated by his success, the Gascon poet, in an evil 
 hour for himself, determined to allow his work to be 
 printed, and it was published during the Easter recess. 
 It was, of course, eagerly bought, but no sooner did 
 people begin to read the book, than they made the dis- 
 covery that this tragedy, which the author's indiscreet 
 admirers had been comparing to Polyeucte and Phedre, was, 
 in truth, a most mediocre play, which clearly owed its 
 phenomenal success to the religious nature of the subject 
 and Mile, de Champmesle's brilliant impersonation of the 
 Judaean heroine. The indignation of the public against the 
 unhappy abbe, who, it seemed to consider, had perpetrated 
 a kind of fraud at its expense, knew no bounds, and it 
 was forthwith decided that Judith must be driven with 
 ignominy from the boards. Accordingly, when the cur- 
 tain rose on Quasimodo Sunday the usual evening for the 
 reopening of the theatre the players, whose appearance 
 for so many nights had been the signal for prolonged 
 applause, were received with a storm of hisses and deri- 
 sive laughter. " Then," continues Le Sage, " Mile, de
 
 n6 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Champmesl6, actress worthy of eternal remembrance, 
 astonished to hear such a symphony, when her ears were 
 accustomed only to applause, addressed the pit as follows : 
 * Gentlemen, we are rather surprised that you should re- 
 ceive so badly to-day a play which you applauded during 
 Lent.' To which a voice replied : ' The hisses were at 
 Versailles, at the sermons of the Abb Boileau.' ' 
 
 Mile, de Champmesle" continued on the stage until the 
 end of her life, for, with her, acting would seem to have 
 been not only a profession, but a passion and a delight. 
 As she grew old, however, she naturally began to feel 
 the strain of such constant exertion, and the efforts she 
 was called upon to make in order to secure the success 
 of Longpierre's MddJe, in February 1694, brought on a 
 somewhat severe illness. She recovered and resumed her 
 place in the company; but, four years later, during the 
 run of the Oreste et Pilade of La Grange-Chancel, which 
 the author modestly asserts " drew as many tears as the 
 Iphigtnie of M. Racine," she was taken seriously ill and 
 ordered by the doctors a complete rest. She retired to 
 Auteuil, which was " already sprinkled with fine houses 
 and noted among suburban villages for the purity of its 
 atmosphere." Here Boileau had a villa, with a delight- 
 ful garden attached, in which he was in the habit of 
 entertaining all the literary celebrities of the day, from 
 Racine to Madame Deshoulieres ; and in summer the 
 village was a favourite health resort of those Parisians 
 whose means did not permit of a visit to Dieppe. 
 
 The air of Auteuil, however, was powerless to cure 
 
 Mile, de Champmesl6. She grew gradually worse, and 
 
 early in May, it was seen that her end was near. Then 
 
 arose the question of the administration of the last Sacra- 
 
 1 Charles Boileau, Abbe of Beaulieu, and a member of the Academy.
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL6 117 
 
 ments ; but before speaking of this, it may be as well for 
 us to glance back and see what had been the practice of 
 the Church in regard to the theatrical profession during 
 the quarter of a century which had elapsed since the 
 death of Moliere. 
 
 If any hopes had existed that the distressing incidents 
 which had accompanied the death of the great actor- 
 dramatist had been merely the outcome of the hostility 
 of the Church towards a particular individual, and, as 
 such, were unlikely to be repeated, they were speedily 
 doomed to disappointment. Henceforth, the penalties 
 denounced against the profession by the early councils 
 were no longer suffered to remain a dead letter, but 
 were enforced with the most merciless severity. The 
 actor found himself excommunicated both in life and 
 death. Marriage, absolution, the Holy Sacrament, bap- 
 tism, all were denied him ; and he was even refused 
 Christian burial. In one way, and in one way only, 
 could he escape this infamous proscription, which was 
 publicly proclaimed every Sunday from every pulpit in 
 Paris, namely, by renouncing his profession, surrender- 
 ing his means of livelihood, forfeiting, in the case of a 
 member of the Comedie-Fran9aise, the pension to which 
 he was entitled after twenty years' service. 
 
 In 1684, Brecourt, an actor of the Comedie-Fran9aise, 
 died. On his death-bed he sent for the cure of Saint- 
 Sulpice ; but that priest refused to administer the Sacra- 
 ments until the actor had executed a deed formally 
 renouncing his profession, which was signed by him and 
 four ecclesiastics. 1 Shortly afterwards, two other players, 
 
 1 Here is the renunciation : " In the presence of M. Claude Botte 
 de la Barondiere, priest, doctor of theology of the Sorbonne, cure of the
 
 n8 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Raisin and Sall6, were compelled to subscribe to similar 
 documents, in the presence of a notary. 
 
 Two years later, Rosimont died suddenly without 
 having had time to abjure his errors. Notwithstanding 
 a fondness for good liquor, he was a sincerely religious 
 man, having published a translation of the Psalms in 
 verse, and also written, or collaborated in, a Vie des saints 
 pour tous /es jours de Fannee. This fact, however, was 
 not permitted to have any weight with the bigoted cure 
 of Saint-Sulpice, and the remains of poor Rosimont were 
 interred, without any ceremony, in a part of the cemetery 
 reserved for unbaptized children. 
 
 It must not be supposed that, outside the capital, the 
 proscription of the actor was general. In the provinces 
 it varied, according to the views of the different bishops 
 and the particular ritual observed, and in some dioceses the 
 penalties were not enforced at all. Moreover, even among 
 the clergy themselves, men of liberal opinions were not 
 wanting to protest vigorously against the folly and in- 
 justice of reviving superannuated anathemas, intended to 
 apply to the sanguinary games of the circus and the scan- 
 dalous performances of the Roman theatre, against the 
 interpreters of the tragedies of Corneille and Racine and 
 
 church and parish of Saint-Sulpice, at Paris, and the witnesses herein- 
 after named, Guillaume Marconnau de Brecourt has declared that, having 
 formerly followed the profession of an actor, he renounces it, and promises, 
 with a true and sincere heart, to exercise it no more, even if restored 
 to full and complete health." Extract from the Register of Saint- 
 Sulpice, cited by M. Gaston Maugras, Les Comediens hors la lot, p. 
 154 note. 
 
 It appears also to have been customary in the case of an actor to pin 
 to the register of deaths the following paper : " The said person was not 
 absolved and received into holy ground until after having publicly re- 
 nounced the profession he had formerly exercised, by an act before the 
 notaries."
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL6 119 
 
 the comedies of Moliere. In 1694, a Theatine monk, 
 one Pere Caffaro by name, published, under the cloak of 
 anonymity, a very able letter, entitled Lettre (Tun Theo- 
 logien, wherein he asserted that " the theatre, as it then 
 existed in France, contained only lessons of virtue, 
 humanity, and morality, and nothing to which the most 
 chaste ear could not give its attention." He further 
 pointed out that the highest dignitaries of the Church 
 bishops, cardinals, and nuncios had no scruples about 
 visiting the theatre, and, therefore, if it was to be con- 
 demned, they must be condemned also, " since they 
 authorised it by their presence " ; and concluded by eulo- 
 gising the exemplary life led by so many members of the 
 proscribed profession, and their abounding charity, " to 
 which magistrates and the superiors of convents could 
 bear ample testimony." 
 
 This letter made a great stir, and brought Bossuet 
 then regarded as the mouthpiece of the Gallican Church 
 into the field to crush the imprudent Theatine. The 
 bishop called upon the monk to retract his statements, 
 and published a treatise called Maximes et reflexions sur la 
 com&die^ in which, after denouncing the plays most in 
 vogue, and in particular the comedies of Moliere, which 
 he stigmatised as full of " impieties and obscenities 
 unfit for the ears of a Christian," he maintained that 
 it was not only " the idolatry and the scandalous in- 
 decency " of the theatre that the Fathers of the Church 
 had condemned, but " its uselessness, its prodigious 
 dissipation, the passions which it excited, and the vanity 
 and love of display which it aroused." According to 
 him, the Church would excommunicate all Christians who 
 frequented the theatre, were the number of offenders 
 not so great.
 
 120 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Bossuet also asserted that actors had always been 
 excommunicated. " The constant practice of the 
 Church," he wrote, " is to deprive those who perform 
 plays of the Sacraments, both in life and death, unless 
 they renounce their art ; and to repulse them from the 
 Holy Table as public sinners." This statement, as 
 M. Maugras points out, in his able and interesting 
 work, Les Comddiens hors la tot, was quite untrue. Up 
 to the time of Tartuffe^ the Church had shown the 
 greatest indulgence towards the theatrical profession, 
 and the old canons had remained a dead-letter. 
 
 Bossuet was followed in his campaign against the 
 theatre by all the most eminent of the French clergy. 
 Massillon, F16chier, Bourdaloue, and Fenelon vied with 
 one another in denouncing the unhappy actor in their 
 sermons and writings. 1 Pere Caffaro was compelled by 
 the Archbishop of Paris to publicly disavow his letter, 
 which, in fear and trembling, he now protested had 
 been extracted from a work of his, written " in the 
 levity of youth," and published without his knowledge 
 or consent ; and the persecution, encouraged by the 
 fact that the gloomy bigotry of the old King had led 
 him to withdraw his protection from the theatre, grew 
 more rigorous than ever. 
 
 Strangely enough, at the same time that the Church 
 was mercilessly proscribing the French actors, it received 
 with open arms the Italian players, who had definitely 
 established themselves in Paris in 1660, admitted them 
 
 1 Among Bossuet's supporters was Pere Lebrun, of the Oratory, who 
 published a Discours tur la comed'u. One of this good father's chief 
 objections to the theatre was "because it it perpetually turning into 
 ridicule parents who strive to prevent their children from contracting love- 
 matches."
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL6 121 
 
 to the Sacraments, allowed them to be married in church, 
 and buried them in holy ground. This distinction 
 appears the more inexplicable, as the French theatre was 
 at this period as reserved and decent as the Italian was 
 the reverse. The licence of the foreigners, indeed, knew 
 no bounds, and finally their plays assumed so objection- 
 able a character that, in 1697, they were expelled from 
 France. 1 The probable explanation is, that the Gallican 
 Church did not dare to proscribe the same persons whom 
 the sovereign pontiffs tolerated in their realm, and whose 
 performances were freely patronised by the Roman pre- 
 lates and clergy. 2 
 
 By another inconsistency, the indulgence shown to the 
 Italian players was extended to the singers and dancers 
 of the Opera. The reason given for this exemption was 
 that the members of the Opera were not actors, as they 
 did not bear the name. But, as we have seen, the 
 canons of the early councils, upon which the bigots 
 relied for their authority, made no distinction what- 
 ever between the different classes of public performers : 
 
 1 According to Saint-Simon, the immediate cause of their expulsion 
 was the representation of a licentious comedy, called La Fatuse Prude, in 
 which character Madame de Maintenon was easily recognised. 
 
 2 In 1696, the French actors, desirous of testing the legality of the 
 attitude of the Church towards them, addressed a petition to Innocent XII., 
 in which, after representing that they performed in Paris " none but 
 honest plays, purged of all obscenities, and more calculated to influence 
 the faithful for good than for evil, and inspire them with a horror of vice 
 and a love of virtue," they besought him to inform them if the bishops 
 had the right to excommunicate them. The Holy See, however, un- 
 willing to provoke a conflict with the independent French bishops, who, 
 it well knew, would not hesitate to resist its orders, if it took the part of 
 the actors, referred the petitioners to the Archbishop of Paris, " that 
 they might be treated according to the law." A similar fate awaited a 
 second appeal to Clement XI. in 1701.
 
 122 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 actors, singers, dancers, mountebanks, jugglers, and 
 circus performers were all included in one common 
 anathema. 1 
 
 Mile, de Champmesld had been greatly distressed 
 at having to renounce her triumphs and the adulation 
 of the public. Proud of the profession to which she 
 owed her fame, she revolted from the idea of repudiating 
 it, and for some time opposed a steady resistance to 
 the solicitations of the curd of Auteuil, who besought 
 her to make her peace with Heaven, or rather with the 
 Church. Finally, however, she yielded, and the curd 
 of Saint-Sulpice, to whose parish she belonged, was 
 summoned to receive her renunciation. Under ordinary 
 circumstances, as we have seen, the unfortunate actor 
 or actress was compelled to give this undertaking in 
 writing duly attested before a notary ; but when the 
 priest arrived the poor woman was at the point of 
 death, and he was therefore compelled to content himself 
 with a verbal declaration. This formality concluded, 
 the curd of Auteuil gave the dying actress absolution 
 and administered the last Sacraments; and on May 15, 
 1698, she passed quietly away, at the age of fifty-six. 
 
 On the morrow her body was brought to Paris, and 
 interred at Saint-Sulpice, in the presence of the whole 
 of the Comdie-Fran9aise. 
 
 That same day, Racine, now a devot of the most 
 pronounced type, wrote to his son Louis, " with whom," 
 says the poet's very candid biographer, M. Larroumet, 
 " he ought never to have approached such a subject " : 
 
 " M. de Rost informed me the day before yesterday 
 that the Champmesld was in extremis, about which he 
 
 1 M. Gaston Maugras, Let Comedlens hors la loi, p. 154 et seq.
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL6 123 
 
 appeared very distressed ; but what is more distressing is 
 that which he apparently troubles little about, I mean 
 the obstinacy with which this poor wretch refuses to 
 renounce the play; declaring, so I am told, that she 
 is proud to die an actress. It is to be hoped that, when 
 she sees death drawing nearer, she will change her tone, 
 as is the rule with the majority of persons who give 
 themselves such airs so long as they are in good health." 
 
 Two months later, he returns to the subject in these 
 terms : 
 
 " I must tell you, by the way, that I owe reparation 
 to the memory of the Champmesle, who died in a 
 sufficiently good state of mind, after having renounced 
 the play, very repentant for her past life, but especially 
 distressed at having to die." 
 
 " There is no conversion," very justly remarks 
 M. Larroumet, " that can possibly excuse such language 
 as this." 
 
 Mile, de Champmesl6 left behind her two brilliant 
 pupils. The first was Mile. Duclos, daughter of a 
 former member of the Marais troupe named Chateau- 
 neuf, who made her dtbut at the Comedie-Fran9aise in 
 1693, and was soon afterwards engaged to understudy 
 the great actress in first tragedy parts. She excelled in 
 roles requiring " majesty of bearing and the impetuous 
 sway of passion," and in such secured several notable 
 successes ; but her style both of speaking and acting 
 seems to have been very artificial. She was, moreover, 
 cursed with a most abominable temper, which made her 
 a perfect terror to her colleagues at rehearsals, and 
 which she could not always control, even before the 
 audience. At the first performance of La Motte's
 
 i2 4 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Ines de Castro, in 1723, a scene which was intended to 
 be intensely pathetic excited the merriment of the pit, 
 upon which Mile. Duclos, who was playing Ines, stopped 
 the performance, and coming to the front of the stage, 
 shouted angrily, " Foolish pit ! You are laughing at 
 the finest thing in the play." On another occasion, 
 when Dancourt apologised to the audience for the lady's 
 non-appearance in one of her most popular roles, at the 
 same time indicating, by a significant gesture, the cause 
 of her indisposition, the actress, who happened to be 
 standing in the wings, rushed on to the stage, beside 
 herself with passion, and soundly boxed her facetious 
 colleague's ears, amid roars of laughter. In 1733, when 
 in her fifty-sixth year, Mile. Duclos was foolish enough 
 to marry an actor named Duchemin, a youth scarcely 
 seventeen ! Two years later, she was compelled to 
 obtain a separation from her juvenile husband, whom she 
 alleged had " maltreated her daily," and dealt her " coups 
 de pied et de poing tant sur le corps que sur le visage" 
 Mile. Duclos's most successful creation was Zenobie, 
 in the Rhadaminthe et Zenobie of Cr6billon, and among 
 her other impersonations were Ariane, in Thomas 
 Corneille's play of that name, Josabeth, in Athalie^ 
 Herselie in La Motte's Romulus, and the title-part in 
 the Electre of Longpierre. She retired, in 1733, with 
 a pension of 1000 livres from the theatre, and another 
 of the same amount from the court, which she enjoyed 
 for twelve years. 
 
 The second of Mile, de Champmesle's pupils was 
 her own niece, Charlotte Desmares, of whom we have 
 already spoken. After playing in child-parts for some 
 years at the Comedie-Fran9aise, Mile. Desmares made 
 her debut in 1699, the year after her aunt's death. She
 
 MARIE DE CHAMPMESL 125 
 
 was an exceedingly pretty young woman, and, though 
 inferior to Mile. Duclos in declamatory tragedy, greatly 
 her superior in pathetic roles. Her best tragedy parts 
 were Iphigenie in La Grange-Chancel's Oreste et Pilade> 
 which had been Mile, de Champmesle's last creation, 
 Semiramis in Crebillon's play of that name, Jocaste 
 in the CEdipe of Voltaire, and Antigone in La Motte's 
 Machabtes, which crowned her career. She was even 
 more successful in comedy, and no better soubrette had 
 been seen since the days of Madeleine Bejart. In 1715, 
 she became the mistress of the Regent d'Orleans, by 
 whom she had a daughter. " My son," wrote the old 
 Duchesse d'Orleans, " has been presented with a daughter 
 by the Desmares. She tried to pass off another child 
 on him as his, but he replied, ' Non y celui-ci est par trop 
 Arlequin' " 
 
 Mile. Desmares retired from the stage in 1721, and 
 died in 1 743 at the age of sixty-one. 
 
 Charles de Champmesl6 did not long survive his 
 wife. A curious story attaches to his death. On the 
 night of August 19-20, 1701, he dreamed that his 
 dead mother and his wife appeared to him and beckoned 
 him to follow them. Convinced that this dream was 
 a warning of his approaching death, he went, early the 
 following morning, to the church of the Cordeliers, and, 
 handing the sacristan a thirty-sol piece, requested him to 
 have two Requiem Masses said for the souls of his 
 departed relatives. Then, as the monk was about to 
 return him the change the fee for a Mass was ten 
 sols the actor exclaimed : " Keep the balance and say 
 a third Mass for me ; I will stay and listen to it." 
 On leaving the church, Champmesl made his way
 
 126 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 to a tavern adjoining the Comedie-Fransaise, and sat 
 down on a bench by the door, where he remained for 
 some time, deep in thought. Presently he entered the 
 theatre and walked about the foyer, muttering to himself 
 the old proverb : " Adieu, paniers ! vendanges sont faites " 
 (" Farewell, baskets ! the grapes are gathered "). He 
 repeated this so often, and his manner appeared so 
 strange, that his colleagues feared his mind had suddenly 
 become affected. But, after a while, he recovered his 
 usual cheerfulness, and invited his brother-in-law, Nicolas 
 Desmares, and several others to dine with him at the 
 tavern, in order to settle some dispute which had arisen 
 between two of them. Scarcely, however, had they 
 reached the door, than Champmesle staggered, put his 
 hands to his forehead, and fell, face downwards, on the 
 floor. When his friends raised him up, he was dead.
 
 Ill 
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR
 
 Ill 
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 
 
 ALTHOUGH not the greatest, Adrienne Lecouvreur is 
 perhaps the most interesting, and certainly the most 
 sympathetic, figure in the history of the French stage. 
 She was the first actress to enjoy not only renown in the 
 theatre, but consideration in society ; she was beloved by 
 the greatest soldier of her time ; she was on terms of 
 the closest friendship with the greatest poet, and in- 
 spired him to a most touching elegy ; while the terrible 
 suspicion attaching to her death and the deplorable 
 scandal connected with her burial have invested her 
 with a halo of romance. She seems, moreover, to possess 
 an attraction for French writers which is shared by no 
 other actress. She has found a well-informed con- 
 temporary biographer in the dramatist d'Allainval; 
 Sainte-Beuve has given her a place in his Lundis, and 
 Michelet one in his Histoire de France ; Lemontey pro- 
 nounced an eloquent eloge of her before the Academy ; 
 Regnier has allotted her a chapter in his Souvenirs et 
 etudes du theatre^ and M. Larroumet has consecrated 
 to her a fine study in his Etudes de literature et a" art. 
 Finally, she has been made the subject of a famous 
 tragedy, 1 in which the heroine was impersonated by the 
 greatest French actress of the nineteenth century, Rachel. 
 
 1 Adrienne Lecouvreur, by Eugene Scribe and Ernest Legouve, first 
 
 represented at the Theatre de la Republique, April 1849. 
 
 129 .
 
 130 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Within recent years, interest in Adrienne Lecouvreur 
 has been greatly stimulated owing to the publication 
 by M. Georges Monval, the learned archivist of the 
 Comedie-Fran9aise, of a collection of the actress's letters, 
 preceded by an admirable biography, containing much 
 information about the early part of her theatrical career, 
 of which, up to that time, little or nothing was known. 
 These letters, besides affording us a valuable insight 
 into Adrienne's character, contain, in the opinion of 
 eminent French critics, some truly exquisite pages, which 
 entitle the writer to a place beside the Caylus, the Staals, 
 the A'fsses, and other mistresses of the language of 
 her time. 
 
 Adrienne Lecouvreur was born on April 5, 1692, 
 at Damery, a little town of Champagne, overlooking 
 the smiling valley of the Marne. Her father was a 
 journeyman hatter, named Robert Couvreur ; l her 
 mother's name was Marie Bouty. Soon after Adrienne 
 was born, her parents removed to Fismes, between 
 Rheims and Soissons, and, about the year 1702, migrated 
 to Paris, where they resided in the Rue des Fosses- 
 Saint-Germain-des-Pres, close to the Comedie-Fran9aise, 
 the little girl being sent to the Couvent des Filles 
 de I'lnstruction Chretienne, Rue du Gindre, one of the 
 convents at which a certain number of poor children 
 received a free education. 
 
 Adrienne appears to have had a very unhappy 
 childhood. In a letter in verse which she addressed, 
 many years later, to her faithful friend d'Argental, she 
 declares that a divinity " furious and jealous " seated 
 
 1 It was only when she became an actress that Adrienne prefaced her 
 patronymic by the article " Le" in order to give it a more artistic sound. 
 For a long time she wrote her name as two words.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 131 
 
 herself near her cradle and controlled her destiny from 
 her earliest years. In the " ruin " where she was born, 
 
 " Residaient le misere et 1'aigreur, 
 L'emportement, la grossiere fureur." 
 
 This last statement was probably true enough, as her 
 father was a man of the most violent temper, who, after 
 leading his family a sad life, finally became insane and 
 had to be sent to the maison de sante at Charleville. 
 Here, Adrienne tells us, the unfortunate man dis- 
 tinguished himself by " setting fire to the four corners 
 of his room, and concealing himself in the chimney, 
 which he had previously stopped up with the coverlet 
 of his bed." His intention apparently was to make his 
 escape amid the confusion which would follow the 
 discovery of the fire, but, in the result, he was nearly 
 burned to death. In spite of all she seems to have 
 suffered at her father's hands, Adrienne never ceased 
 to love him, and saw in this calamity "the chief of 
 all her misfortunes." 
 
 When Adrienne was thirteen, a chance circumstance 
 revealed her vocation for the theatre. She and some 
 other children of her quarter took it into their heads to 
 perform some plays for their own amusement, and met 
 to rehearse at a grocer's shop in the Rue Ferou. The 
 young people had the hardihood to attempt Polyeucte, 
 Adrienne playing Pauline, one of the most touching of 
 the great Corneille's heroines, and reciting the famous 
 dramatist's verses with a fire and pathos which eclipsed 
 Mile. Duclos herself. 
 
 The news of their rehearsals reached the ears of a 
 certain Madame du Gue, the wife of a President of the 
 Parliament of Paris and a great patroness of the drama.
 
 132 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Madame la Presidente invited the little players to give a 
 representation in the courtyard of her hotel in the Rue 
 Garanciere, where she had a stage erected, and asked a 
 large and distinguished company to witness the perform- 
 ance. Struck by the novelty of the entertainment, a 
 great many people came who had not been invited, and, 
 despite the efforts of eight tall Swiss, the door was forced, 
 and when the curtain or whatever did duty for it- 
 rose, the courtyard, large as it was, was inconveniently 
 crowded. 
 
 It had been arranged that the performance should 
 consist of Pierre Corneille's famous tragedy, to be fol- 
 lowed by a lively little play, in one act, and in verse, 
 called Le D <?#//, the joint work of Hauteroche and 
 Thomas Corneille. In those days, we may observe, a 
 tragedy was almost invariably followed by a comedy, 
 the idea presumably being to dissipate the sad impres- 
 sions produced by the former, and send the audience 
 home in good spirits. 
 
 In default of a costume suitable to the period in 
 which the action of Polyeucte passes, Adrienne had 
 borrowed a gown of fashionable make from Madame 
 du Gue's waiting-woman, which, unfortunately, was very 
 much too large for her. But the little actress's talent 
 triumphed over sartorial disadvantages, and her im- 
 personation of the faithful wife of Polyeucte struggling 
 against the memory of her first love was perfectly 
 extraordinary for one of her age. " She charmed every 
 one by a quite novel style of recitation, so natural and 
 so true that it was the unanimous opinion that she had 
 but a step to take to become the greatest actress ever 
 seen upon the French stage." 
 
 Adrienne's efforts were ably seconded by a lad
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 133 
 
 named Menou, who played Severe, and entered so 
 thoroughly into the spirit of his role that, as he uttered 
 the words : " Soutiens-moi, ce coup de foudre est grand ! " 
 he fell to the ground in a swoon, and had to be carried 
 away and bled. After which, he pluckily returned and 
 finished his part. 
 
 Polyeucte concluded, the little actors were about to 
 begin their performance of Le Deuit, and every one was 
 looking forward to see whether Adrienne would shape 
 as well in comedy as she had in tragedy, when the 
 archers of the Lieutenant of Police suddenly appeared on 
 the scene. The members of the Corned ie-Fran9aise 
 had got wind of this entertainment, composed of two 
 pieces from their own repertoire ; and, indeed, several 
 of them had assisted at it. The popularity of the 
 national theatre was just then much weakened by the 
 rivalry of the Opera and the unlicensed playhouses of 
 the fairs in the neighbourhood of Paris, and they feared 
 that by tolerating such performances as the present one 
 their receipts would be still further diminished. They 
 accordingly sent a deputation to d'Argenson, begging 
 him to uphold the exclusive privileges conferred upon 
 the Comedie-Fran^aise at its foundation, and to nip the 
 enterprise of their youthful competitors in the bud. 
 
 The police informed Madame du Gue that they 
 had come with orders from their chief to arrest the 
 little players. But that good lady begged the exempt in 
 charge for a short respite, and despatched a messenger 
 to d'Argenson, who consented to pardon the delin- 
 quents, on condition that the performances should cease. 
 Madame la Presidente's guests, accordingly, were dis- 
 appointed of their comedy ; but it was performed none 
 the less, for the Grand Prieur de Vendome, head of the
 
 i 3 4 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Order of Malta, learning of what had occurred, invited 
 Adrienne and her comrades to the Temple, which was 
 outside the ordinary jurisdiction of the police ; and here 
 they gave several performances, in which the little girl 
 confirmed the great impression she had made at Madame 
 du Gue's. " After which," says d'Allainval, " the party 
 was entirely disbanded." 
 
 Adrienne had an aunt, a laundress, who numbered 
 among her customers an actor named Le Grand, who 
 had recently been admitted a socittaire of the Comedie- 
 Fran9aise, and was in the habit of increasing his pro- 
 fessional income by training pupils for the stage. Le 
 Grand was an amusing character. The son of a 
 surgeon-major of the Invalides, he had received a fair 
 education, and, after serving his apprenticeship in the 
 provinces, had left France to accept an engagement at 
 the Polish Court, where he had remained for some 
 years. He seems to have owed his admission to 
 the Comedie-Fran^aise to the patronage of no less a 
 person than the Grand Dauphin himself, for, though 
 an excellent teacher, he was an actor of but moderate 
 ability, and was, moreover, so singularly ill-favoured that 
 for some time he could not appear on the stage without 
 being exposed to bursts of derisive laughter. His ready 
 wit and imperturbable good-humour, however, eventually 
 gained him the favour of the public. One night when 
 he was being unmercifully chaffed by the pit, he came 
 to the front of the stage, and coolly addressed his perse- 
 cutors as follows : " Gentlemen, it will be easier for 
 you to accustom yourselves to my face than for me 
 to change it." 
 
 From that moment, his popularity was assured, but, 
 to the last, his ungainly figure and comical face proved
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 135 
 
 a source of merriment to the less seriously disposed 
 patrons of the theatre, especially when he happened to 
 be undertaking an heroic part. 
 
 Le Grand's forte lay in the writing rather than the 
 acting of plays. In this he was very successful, for, like 
 Dancourt, he possessed the happy knack of giving 
 dramatic form to the topics of the hour. Thus when, 
 in October 1721, the notorious robber Cartouche was 
 awaiting his trial, Le Grand made him the central 
 figure of a comedy, called Cartouche, ou les Voleurs^ and 
 paid several visits to the Chatelet to study and converse 
 with the prisoner. The play, as might be expected, drew 
 crowded houses, and the grateful author sent Cartouche 
 a hundred crowns as his share of the profits. But that 
 worthy, whose vanity had at first been flattered by the 
 idea of figuring as the hero of a play, now complained 
 that the piece might prejudice his case, and, after the 
 thirteenth performance, it was stopped by order of the 
 Lieutenant of Police. Le Grand's best play was his Roi 
 de Cocagne, a farcical comedy with interludes by Jean 
 Baptiste Quinault, which had a great vogue, and is 
 highly spoken of by August Wilhelm von Schlegel in 
 his " Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature." 
 
 Proud of her little niece's talent, Adrienne's aunt 
 mentioned her to Le Grand, who, after hearing the girl 
 recite, at once perceived the great future which lay 
 before her, and "decided to become her second master, 
 Nature having been her first." He accordingly took 
 her to live with him, 1 gave her lessons, and found her 
 opportunities for acting in several amateur companies. 
 
 1 Several writers have stated that she was his mistress, but this is 
 incorrect. It was her cousin, the laundress's daughter, who occupied 
 that position.
 
 136 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Finally he persuaded Robert Couvreur, whose financial 
 affairs had reached a very parlous state, to allow his 
 daughter to make the stage her profession. 
 
 Knowing, from his own experience, that the provinces 
 were the best school and the nursery for the Comedie- 
 Fransaise, Le Grand recommended Adrienne to an old 
 colleague of his, a Mile. Fonpre, whose husband had 
 formerly been manager of the Brussels theatre, and who 
 had just obtained from the magistrates of Lille a three 
 years' monopoly of dramatic performances in that town. 
 Before her the girl recited some scenes from the Cid, 
 which so delighted Mile. Fonpre that she engaged her 
 on the spot, and gave her permission to bring her father 
 with her to Flanders. 
 
 Then began for Adrienne the life of a provincial 
 actress, which, if it had somewhat improved since the 
 days of the Illustre Theatre, was still very far from 
 being a bed of roses. " Mixture of hard work and of 
 compulsory pleasure," says M. Larroumet, "with the 
 companionships of the coulisses, the persistent attentions 
 of young men of fashion and garrison officers, the errors 
 of sentiment and conduct which were the consequence, 
 and the repentance and disgust which followed, it was 
 the most miserable and most trying to which a refined 
 nature could submit." * 
 
 For ten years, that is to say, from 1706 to 1717, 
 Adrienne exploited Flanders, Lorraine, and Alsace, now 
 accepting a lengthy engagement at some important 
 theatre, now journeying with some travelling company 
 from town to town, acquiring in this rude apprentice- 
 ship a thorough knowledge of her art and a particularly 
 cruel experience of life. 
 
 1 Etudes de [literature et (T art : Adrienne Lccouvreur, p. I 24.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 137 
 
 At Lille, where she appears to have remained for 
 about three years, dramatic performances were during 
 several weeks carried on to the accompaniment of the 
 cannon of a besieging army, first, under the Duke of 
 Marlborough, and, afterwards, under Prince Eugene, 
 to whom the citadel surrendered on October 28, 1708. 
 On one occasion, a shell exploded within a few paces 
 of the theatre, notwithstanding which the performances 
 were as well attended as in time of peace. 
 
 After leaving Lille, Adrienne accepted an engage- 
 ment as " leading lady " at the theatre at Luneville, and 
 she is also believed to have played at Metz, Nancy, and 
 Verdun. Finally, early in the year 1711, we find her 
 occupying a similar position at the Strasburg theatre, one 
 of the finest houses to be met with out of Paris, with a 
 salary of two thousand livres, a considerable sum for 
 those days ; and here she seems to have remained until 
 the spring of 1717, when she returned to Paris to make 
 her debut at the Comedie-Francaise. 
 
 The portrait of Adrienne Lecouvreur was painted by 
 several of the leading artists of her time: Charles Coypel, 
 Fontaine, H. de Troy le pere, Jean Baptiste Van Loo, 
 and, it is believed, Nattier. None of these portraits, 
 unfortunately, have come down to us, though the works 
 of the two first painters are well known through the 
 engravings of Drevet and Schmidt. 
 
 In regard to the merits of the two portraits, there 
 seems to be considerable difference of opinion. Michelet, 
 in his Histoire de France, speaks with enthusiasm of the 
 painting by Coypel, reproduced in this volume, in which 
 Adrienne is represented as Cornelie in La Mort de Pompee, 
 weeping over the urn of her husband, which she holds 
 clasped to her breast. "She must have exercised a terrible
 
 138 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 power over hearts, to have been able to transform beasts 
 into men, to have caused the feeble and mediocre Coypel 
 to paint such a portrait. An inspired artist of our time, 
 our first sculptor, Preault, told me that he knew not a 
 word of the history of Mile. Lecouvreur when he saw 
 this engraving. He was very affected by it, enraptured, 
 and he seized upon it greedily. ... It is more than a 
 work of art, it is, as it were, a dream of grief. Those 
 heavenly eyes, suffused with sublime tears, the gesture of 
 those arms clasping the funeral urn, the grief expressed by 
 that countenance, the silent accusation which that whole 
 figure brings against destiny, all make of this picture a 
 unique work, an honour alike to painter and model." 
 
 M. Larruomet agrees with Michelet : "I, for my 
 part, am of opinion that if Charles Coypel, as a rule 
 an artist of but moderate ability, invented the pose of 
 this portrait, he had, by chance, an inspiration of genius, 
 and that, if he only borrowed it from the actress, she 
 possessed that innate sense of attitude which we admire 
 in our own day (1892), in M. Mounet - Sully and 
 Madame Sarah Bernhardt, and which alone would have 
 sufficed to make of them great actors." M. Larroumet 
 declares the portrait to possess "the incontestable merit 
 of being a superb work of art," and greatly prefers it to 
 the one by Fontaine, which shows us the actress " en robe 
 de chambre" with her hair dressed in the fashion of the 
 day. In the latter he can see only a " tableau d'apparat" 
 of but little merit. 
 
 On the other hand, Regnier, M. Maurice Paleologue, 
 and M. Georges Monval, to the last of whom we owe 
 the publication of Adrienne's correspondence, give the 
 preference to Fontaine's work. "It is a truer, a more 
 human, a more lifelike, a more familiar Adrienne,"
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 139 
 
 remarks M. Monval, who stigmatises the portrait by 
 Coypel as " a fantastic and studied picture, a tete (T ' etude ^ 
 a banal figure, under which one might equally well 
 inscribe the name of Magdalene repentant, or of Sophie 
 Arnould." 
 
 For ourselves, while on the whole inclined to endorse 
 the high opinion which Michelet and M. Larroumet have 
 formed of Coypel's portrait, we cannot but think that 
 the latter has unduly depreciated that by Fontaine, which 
 appears to us both pleasing and natural. 
 
 However that may be, the two portraits, in all 
 essential respects, are far from dissimilar, and as they 
 accord well with the descriptions of the actress given by 
 contemporary writers, we see no reason to doubt the 
 fidelity of either. In both we find a high forehead, fine 
 eyes, a slightly aquiline nose, a well-shaped mouth, with 
 the rather prominent lower lip which recalls the portraits 
 of princesses of the House of Austria, and a rounded 
 chin ; in a word, the features of a very pretty woman. 
 
 In default of portraits painted or engraved, Adrienne's 
 beauty would be amply attested by her contemporaries. 
 Not that the testimony in her favour is altogether 
 unanimous, as M. Paleologue rather boldly asserts ; to 
 expect unanimity in regard to the appearance of a 
 celebrated actress, whose triumphs must of necessity 
 arouse envy and jealousy in many quarters, would be 
 as unreasonable as to look for a general appreciation 
 of her dramatic talent. But the number of those who 
 decline to admit her attractiveness is very small, and not 
 above suspicion of prejudice, while the evidence to the 
 contrary is abundant and authoritative. " Without 
 being tall," wrote, in 1719, the author of Les Lettres 
 historiques sur tous les spectacles de Paris , " she is very
 
 1 40 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 well made, and has an air of distinction, which pre- 
 possesses one in her favour ; no one in the world has 
 more charms. Her eyes speak as much as her mouth, 
 and often supply the place of her voice. In short, I 
 cannot do better than compare her to a miniature, since 
 she has agreeableness, finesse, and delicacy." 
 
 The Mercure confirms this portrait : " Mile. Lecouv- 
 reur was about the middle height and admirably formed, 
 with a noble and confident air, a well-poised head and 
 shapely shoulders, eyes full of fire, a pretty mouth, a 
 slightly aquiline nose, and very pleasing manners ; 
 although not plump, her face was somewhat full, with 
 features admirably adapted to express sorrow, joy, 
 tenderness, fear, and pity." l 
 
 Nature, besides endowing Adrienne with beauty, had 
 given her an exceedingly susceptible heart. Her letters, 
 published some years ago by M. Georges Monval, though, 
 with one or two exceptions, none of them can be said to 
 come within the category of love-letters, reveal an ardent 
 and imperious need of loving and being loved. " due 
 faire au monde sans aimer?" she writes to one of her 
 friends; and these words might very well have been taken 
 as her motto. 
 
 With her, however, love was very far from being the 
 consuming fire it is with so many of her sex ; she was of 
 the race of tender, not of passionate lovers ; of the race, 
 too, of those who, scorning the lighter forms of gallantry, 
 and yet unable to preserve their virtue, are so often 
 destined to bitter disappointment, disillusion, and re- 
 morse. " Relative of the Monimes, the Berenices, the 
 La Vallieres, and the A'isses," says M. Paleologue, in his 
 
 1 Le Mercure de France, March 1730.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 141 
 
 fine study of the actress, " she has their melting tears, 
 their touching grace, and their voluptuous modesty. 
 But her true originality among the women of her time 
 lay in the conception that she formed of love. We 
 know the singular change that this sentiment had under- 
 gone beneath the dissolving influence of the morals of 
 the Regency ; all that had made up to that time for the 
 nobility and poetry of passion had fallen beneath the 
 blows of the reigning philosophy and the persiflage of 
 the salons. In this transformation the woman had lost 
 more than the man. She had been taught that modesty 
 and fidelity were grandiloquent words devoid of mean- 
 ing, and, freeing herself from all romantic illusion, and 
 clinging only to the positive and agreeable in her 
 amorous intrigues, she displayed everywhere a cynical 
 libertinism. 
 
 " It was the honour of Adrienne to resist this con- 
 tagion. The gift of her person was always a pledge of 
 the heart. She loved not by caprice, not by vanity, but 
 by a moral inclination, with an ardour, a conscientious- 
 ness, and a gravity profound." l 
 
 The first of the actress's adorers was the Baron 
 
 D , a young officer of the Regiment de Picardie, 
 
 which formed part of the garrison of Lille. Of him we 
 know nothing, save that, after the liaison had lasted some 
 months, he died suddenly, an event which occasioned his 
 mistress such terrible grief that she is said to have 
 seriously contemplated destroying herself. To the baron 
 succeeded a certain Philippe Le Roy, " officer of the 
 Duke of Lorraine," by whom, in 1710, Adrienne had a 
 daughter, baptized as Elisabeth Adrienne. M. Le Roy, 
 however, appears to have proved fickle, for, soon after- 
 
 1 Profits de Femnus : Adrienne Lecouvreur.
 
 1 42 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 wards, we hear of a third lover, a provincial actor named 
 Clavel, brother of Mile. Fonpre. 
 
 With Clavel Adrienne corresponded, and two of her 
 letters to him have fortunately been preserved, the only 
 love-letters of this woman who loved so much that have 
 come down to us. It is much to be regretted that the 
 rest of this correspondence has been lost, as they reveal 
 the actress in a very favourable light : warm-hearted, 
 sincere, loyal, and disinterested. 
 
 The first letter, written some time in the year 1710, 
 is in reply to one from Clavel, which she has been 
 impatiently awaiting : 
 
 " I have at last received that letter so eagerly antici- 
 pated, and for which I have been astounding Notre Dame 
 des Carmes with my prayers. I can assure thee, my 
 dear friend, that I have had no rest since thy departure, 
 both on account of my uneasiness at not receiving news 
 of thee and of finding myself inconvenienced as I am. 
 I hope to be better now, since I have reason to believe 
 that thou lovest me still and that thou art well. Take 
 care of thyself, I beg of thee, since thy health is as 
 precious to me as my own. I shall be charmed to learn 
 that thou art enjoying thyself, provided that I lose by it 
 nothing of what is mine, and that thou dost not write to 
 me less often. . . . Assuredly, I believe that thou hast a 
 kind heart, and, consequently, art faithful to thy poor 
 Lecouvreur, who loves thee more than herself. ... I 
 embrace thee with all the tenderness of my heart, and 
 swear to thee a constancy proof against all things." 
 
 From the second letter, which was written two years 
 later, and which M. Larroumet declares to be " one of
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 143 
 
 the tenderest and most touching letters to be found in 
 literature, real or imaginative, worthy of comparison 
 with the famous letter of Manon Lescaut" it would 
 appear that Clavel had promised to marry Adrienne, or, 
 at least, given her reason to believe that such was his 
 intention ; and she refers to the matter with a frankness, 
 a delicacy, and a forgetfulness of self rarely met with 
 where personal interests are at stake : 
 
 " I hardly know what I ought to think of your l 
 neglect, at a time when everything ought to alarm me. 
 Be always persuaded that I love you for yourself a 
 hundred times more than on my own account. Time 
 will prove to you, my dear Clavel, what I swear to you 
 to-day. Entertain for me the sentiments that I shall 
 entertain for you all my life, for all my ambition is 
 bounded by that. With all the attachment that I have 
 for you, I should be in despair if you did anything for 
 me with repugnance. Reflect well that you are still 
 master. Consider that I have nothing and that I owe a 
 great deal, and that you will find greater advantages else- 
 where. For my part, I have nothing, save youth and good 
 will, but that does not adjust matters. I speak to you 
 plainly, as you see, and I tell you frankly things which 
 are able to make you think of me as one whom you 
 ought to avoid. Here is a chance to take your own 
 part. Have no consideration. Make no promise that 
 you do not intend to keep ; were it necessary for you to 
 promise to hate me, it seems to me that it would be 
 easier for me to bear than to find myself deceived. ... I 
 tell you again, my dear Clavel, that your interests are 
 
 1 Note the change from the familiar and affectionate " ton " of the 
 previous letter to the formal " votre."
 
 i 4 4 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 dearer to me than my own. Follow the course which 
 will be most pleasing to you. I know you to be of a 
 disposition which will prompt you to behave generously 
 and perhaps to surpass me ; but yet once again reflect 
 well. Act like the honest man that you are and follow 
 your own inclination, without troubling about the pos- 
 sible consequences. I shall resign myself, by some means 
 or other, as well as I can, whether I gain or lose you. 
 If I have you, I shall have the sorrow of not rendering 
 you as happy as I should wish ; my own happiness will 
 perhaps make me forget the pain. ... If I lose you, I 
 shall strive at least not to do so entirely, and I shall still 
 retain some place in your esteem. If you are happy, I 
 shall have the pleasure of knowing that I have not pre- 
 vented it ; or, if you are not, I, at any rate, shall not be 
 the cause, and I shall endeavour in some way to console 
 myself." 
 
 The result of Clavel's reflections was that he came 
 to the conclusion that marriage with a young woman 
 who " had nothing and owed a great deal " might prove 
 but an indifferent bargain for an ambitious young actor ; 
 and Adrienne, after a somewhat lengthy period of soli- 
 tude, accepted the protection of Comte Fra^ois de 
 Klinglin, son of the prdteur royal, or first magistrate, of 
 Strasburg. To him, at the beginning of the year 1717, 
 she bore a second daughter, Catherine Franchise Ursule ; 
 but the ill-fortune which had attended her previous 
 liaisons still pursued her, for, almost immediately after 
 this event, her lover abandoned her, in order to contrac 
 a wealthy marriage, to which he had been long urged by 
 his family. 
 
 The marriage of the father of her child threw poor
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 145 
 
 Adrienne into the depths of despair. Too proud to 
 reproach him with his perfidy, and yet too sensitive to 
 remain to witness its consummation, she determined to 
 leave the city, which must henceforth have for her such 
 painful associations, and, having obtained permission to 
 make her dibitt at the Comedie-Fransaise, at the close of 
 the theatrical year, she set out for Paris. Her two chil- 
 dren she left at Strasburg, where she had them educated 
 with great care, and on her death, in 1730, made ample 
 provision for them. The elder, daughter of Philippe Le 
 Roy, afterwards married the musician Francceur the 
 younger, who, in 1757, was appointed director of the 
 Opera ; the younger, daughter of the faithless Klinglin, 
 became the wife of a M. Daudet (or Dauvet), a magis- 
 trate at Strasburg. 
 
 It was on May 14, 1717, that Adrienne made her 
 first appearance before the Parisian public, in the title- 
 part in the Electre of Crebillon, and as Angelique in 
 George Dandin that is to say, in both tragedy and 
 comedy. Notwithstanding the fact that the Czar, Peter 
 the Great, then on a visit to Paris, was to be present at 
 the Opera that evening, the house was crowded, for the 
 debutante had brought a great reputation with her from 
 the provinces, while not a few playgoers remembered her 
 performances when a child at Madame du Cue's and in 
 the Temple. The expectations of the public were not 
 disappointed. " Her success was so prodigious," writes 
 d'Allainval, " that it was remarked that she had begun 
 as great actresses usually finish " ; and a perfect storm of 
 enthusiasm followed the fall of the curtain. 
 
 Nor did the heroine of the evening fail to confirm 
 
 K
 
 146 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 the advantage she had gained. A few days later, she 
 gave a masterly rendering of the role of Monime in 
 Racine's Mithridate, which will be remembered as one of 
 Mile, de Champmesle's most brilliant creations, speedily 
 followed by other triumphs as Berenice, Irene in Andronic, 
 Alcmene in Amphitryon^ and Pauline in Polyeucte ; and, 
 on June 20, a vacancy having in the meanwhile arisen, 
 she was received into the company and allotted a 
 demi-part. 
 
 For thirteen years, that is to say until her death, on 
 March 20, 1730, Adrienne reigned the almost unques- 
 tioned queen of the Comedie-Francaise, passing from 
 triumph to triumph, associating her name with a great 
 variety of characters in tragedy, and attaining a popu- 
 larity with the playgoing public such as no actress had 
 ever before enjoyed. " A lofty soul, great enthusiasm, 
 constant study, a passionate love for her art," says Sainte- 
 Beuve, "all combined to make of her that ideal of a 
 great tragedienne^ which until that time does not appear 
 to have been realised to this degree. Mile. Duclos was 
 only a representative of the declamatory school, and if 
 Mile. Desmares and the Champmesle had had great and 
 splendid parts, they certainly never attained to the all- 
 round perfection of Adrienne Lecouvreur. When the 
 latter appeared, she had no other model than her own 
 taste, and she created." * 
 
 As the French theatre had been founded in imitation 
 of the ancients, without much regard for the difference 
 of manners, in the same way, its dramatic declamation 
 was ruled by obscure traditions, independently of the 
 difference in languages. When at the theatre of the 
 Hotel de Bourgogne, the art had hardly freed itself from 
 
 1 Cauteries du Lundi, I. 161.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 147 
 
 its first awkwardness, some erroneous ideas of the elocu- 
 tion of the Greeks and the stage system of the Romans 
 made of the actor's delivery a kind of measured chant. 
 Favoured by the construction of the verses of the great 
 seventeenth century dramatists and the brilliant successes 
 of Mile, de Champmesle, this monotonous chant passed 
 from the Rue Mauconseil to the Comedie-Fransaise, 
 where, at the time of Adrienne's appearance, it had 
 become so firmly established that to the great majority 
 of the company and a large number of their patrons any 
 revolt against its sway seemed something like sacrilege. 
 So long as Baron had remained on the stage some check 
 had been imposed on this deplorable custom, for Baron, 
 educated in the school of Moliere, a strenuous advocate 
 of naturalness, had remained faithful to the traditions of 
 the Palais-Royal. But his abrupt retirement, in 1696, in 
 the flower of his age, left the adherents of the rival school 
 in undisputed possession of the field, and for more than 
 twenty years nothing occurred to interfere with the reign 
 of inflated declamation, which was carried by the suc- 
 cessors of Mile, de Champmesle to lengths which pro- 
 voked the ridicule and disgust of foreign visitors. 1 
 
 Adrienne's phenomenal success was, in a great mea- 
 sure, due to the fact that she had the courage and good 
 sense to break with the old traditions of the theatre, 
 and abandon this stilted and artificial style of elocution 
 for simpler and more natural modes of speech. "The 
 charming Lecouvreur," wrote the Italian actor Riccoboni, 
 the jeune premier of the Comedie-Italienne, in his didactic 
 poem, Deir arte rappresentativa, " is the only one who 
 does not follow the road along which all her comrades 
 run at full speed. If she happens to weep or complain 
 
 1 Lemontey, Notice sur Adnenne Lecouvreur.
 
 148 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 without terrifying us, as the others do by their bawlings, 
 she touches the heart so profoundly, that we become 
 affected with her." x 
 
 This natural style of delivery seems to have been 
 originally imposed upon Adrienne by her physique, which 
 was more delicate than vigorous. Her voice, though 
 singularly pleasing, was not remarkable for extent and 
 power, like Mile, de Champmesle's, but she used it 
 with such consummate skill as to vary its modulations 
 according to the sentiments she desired to express. 
 " Although her voice is very weak," says the author of 
 the Lettres historigues, " she pleased the public at first, 
 and continues to please it ; because it finds in her a novel 
 style, natural and the more agreeable, in that she has 
 studied how to control it and to proportion it to her 
 strength ; and thus one might say that the weakness of 
 her chest has contributed to this kind of perfection." 
 The Mercure, of March 1730, confirms the anonymous 
 writer : " She had not many tones in her voice, but she 
 knew how to lend to them infinite variety." Moreover, 
 she seems to have possessed the rare gift of clearness of 
 pronunciation, " the orthography of the actor's art," and 
 seldom indeed had so pure and distinct a delivery been 
 heard upon the stage. 
 
 For this last qualification Adrienne was indebted to 
 the counsels of C6sar du Marsais, the grammarian- 
 philosopher, as, when she first appeared on the stage of 
 the Com6die-Fran9aise, her pronunciation was far from 
 perfect ; she understood the true meaning of the words 
 of her parts, but delivered them in a way which con- 
 siderably discounted their value, and thus, according to 
 Regnier, touched the hearts, and irritated the ears of 
 
 1 Cited by M. Georges Monval, Lettres d 1 Adrienne Lccouvreur.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 149 
 
 the more fastidious critics at one and the same time. 
 D'Allainval relates that on the evening of her dibut^ 
 while the theatre was ringing with the applause of the 
 delighted audience, an elderly man, seated at the back of 
 a box, refrained from joining in the general enthusiasm, 
 and contented himself with remarking from time to 
 time, in a low tone, " Bon, cela ! " His behaviour was 
 much commented upon by those who sat near him, and 
 duly reported to Adrienne, who, on learning that it was 
 Du Marsais, became curious to learn the reason of 
 the qualified approval of one who appeared to be a 
 critic of some discernment, and accordingly sent him 
 a very courteous note inviting him to dine with her 
 tete-a-ttc. 
 
 Du Marsais came, but, before sitting down to table, 
 he begged the actress to do him the favour of reciting a 
 tirade from one of her favourite roles. Adrienne readily 
 consented, but was not a little surprised at only obtaining 
 for her trouble an occasional " Bon y cela." Mortified 
 by her guest's comparative indifference to her talents, she 
 inquired in what she had failed to please him. " Made- 
 moiselle," replied Du Marsais, "so far as my judgment 
 goes, no actress has ever given promise of greater talents 
 than yours, and, in order to eclipse probably all your 
 predecessors, I will venture to promise that all that is 
 required on your part is to give to each word the exact 
 emphasis necessary to express its meaning." 
 
 Adrienne begged the grammarian not to be sparing 
 of his advice, and, following it religiously, soon succeeded 
 in correcting her faulty pronunciation. 
 
 It must not be supposed that Adrienne was able to 
 effect the overthrow of a style of elocution which had 
 reigned almost unchallenged since the foundation of the
 
 150 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Comedie-Fran9aise without encountering strenuous and, 
 in some cases, acrimonious opposition from its many 
 champions. Mesdemoiselles Duclos and Desmares, 
 prompted, no doubt, as much by jealousy of the new- 
 comer as by loyalty to the traditions in which they had 
 been trained, were particularly bitter in their resistance, 
 and, supported by the Quinault coterie, 1 did not confine 
 themselves to legitimate protests or to sustaining against 
 her promising debutantes, but subjected the young actress 
 to a variety of petty persecutions. Regnier, in his 
 Souvenirs et etudes du theatre^ cites a number of extracts 
 from the registers of the Comedie, from which it appears 
 that a favourite practice of Adrienne's enemies was to 
 cause her to be fined on all kinds of pretexts : for being 
 late for rehearsal, for not wearing the costume prescribed 
 for her part, and so forth. On one occasion, a kind 
 colleague inquired if she were aware that the anagram of 
 her name was Couleuvre (viper) ; and during the run of 
 Voltaire's Herode and Mariamne, Mile, de Seine, who, 
 two years later, became the wife of Quinault-Dufresne, 
 carried her insolence so far that the Gentlemen of the 
 Chamber, within whose jurisdiction the theatre lay, were 
 obliged to interfere, and direct the semainiers, as a number 
 of players who governed the theatre in rotation were 
 called, "to deduct the sum of one hundred livres from 
 the share of Mile, de Seine, for unseemly behaviour 
 towards Mile. Lecouvreur, and to give her warning that 
 she would be dismissed from the troupe in the event of 
 a repetition of the offence." 
 
 1 There were, at this period, four members of the Quinault family 
 in the troupe of the Comedie- Fran$aise : two brothers, Jean Baptiste 
 Quinault and Abraham Alexis Quinuult-Dufresne, and two si8ters } 
 Marie Anne Quinault and Jeanne Francjoise Quinault.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 151 
 
 The climax of the campaign against Adrienne had, 
 it seems, been reached some time before this incident. 
 In September 1723, Philippe Poisson, a retired member 
 of the Comedie-Fransaise, submitted to the company, 
 under a nom de guerre^ a comedy in one act, entitled 
 r Actrice nouvelle, which was nothing less than a personal 
 satire on Adrienne, her art, and her private life. The 
 play, in Adrienne's absence, was read to the assembled 
 troupe by the elder Quinault, who, in the speeches 
 assigned to the heroine, imitated the voice and gestures 
 of the tragedienne so cleverly as to send the lady's enemies 
 into convulsions of merriment. It was at once resolved 
 to accept the play, and Mile. Duclos and her friends 
 doubtless indulged in much gleeful anticipation as to 
 what their rival's feelings would be when she found 
 herself publicly caricatured before her admirers in 
 the boxes and pit. Unfortunately for the success of 
 this malicious scheme, the secret, though well kept, 
 leaked out, and Adrienne lost no time in bringing 
 the matter to the notice of the authorities, who 
 issued an order forbidding the production of l y Actrice 
 nouvelle. 
 
 That Adrienne should have triumphed so completely 
 as she did over tradition and jealousy was due to two 
 causes. In the first place, she succeeded in securing the 
 immediate, and almost unanimous, approbation of the 
 playgoing public, who, when afforded an opportunity 
 of comparing the rival methods of elocution, pronounced 
 without hesitation, and in no uncertain way, in favour 
 of the innovation. The second was the unexpected 
 intervention of Baron, who, in April 1720, at the age of 
 sixty-seven, suddenly resolved to return to the scene of 
 his many triumphs, and, delighted to find that an actress
 
 152 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 had arisen who shared his own views on the subject of 
 elocution, lent her all the encouragement and support 
 in his power. Aided by this invaluable ally, Adrienne 
 succeeded in effecting a veritable revolution ; the 
 " bawlings " which had so disgusted the Italian actor 
 Riccoboni were heard no more, the monotonous chant 
 was banished, and in its place reigned " a declamation 
 simple, noble, and natural." l 
 
 The excellence of Adrienne's delivery was equalled, 
 if not surpassed, by her really wonderful by-play. Like 
 Mile. Moliere, she possessed in a very marked degree 
 the difficult art of listening, the extreme mobility of her 
 features enabling her to assume at will every shade of 
 emotion and exhibit successively the different impressions 
 which the words addressed to her would naturally pro- 
 duce. " Perhaps no one," observes the Mercure, " has 
 ever so well understood the art of silent scenes, that is 
 to say, listened so well and so well expressed the sense 
 of the words uttered by the actor who was on the stage 
 with her ; while Dumas d'Aigueberre tells us that " her 
 attitudes were noble and natural, that she invested the 
 movements of her arms with inimitable grace, and that 
 her eyes announced what she was about to say." She 
 possessed, too, a very rare gift the art of concealing 
 art, of entirely subordinating the interpreter to the work. 
 The dramatist Colle, a critic by no means easy to please, 
 it may be remarked, declares that " her treatment of 
 every detail of a role was perfect ; and, in this way, 
 caused one to forget the actress ; one saw only the 
 personage whom she happened to be representing." 
 Yet another trait, and one which provoked general 
 admiration, was the rapidity and completeness with 
 
 1 Mercure de France, March 1730.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 153 
 
 which she passed from one state of mind to its exact 
 opposite, from profound grief to joyous gaiety, from 
 frenzied anger to moving tenderness. " When in the 
 role of Elisabeth," l says the Mercure, "she learned of 
 the love of the Comte d'Essex for the Duchess d'Irton ; 
 when, in fact, she was delivered to the greatest scorn 
 which a woman, and, in particular, a queen, can endure, 
 with what sensibility did she descend from the height 
 of pride to the extreme of the greatest tenderness, 
 even so far as to co-operate with the duchess, in order 
 to save the count." 
 
 Brilliant tragedienne though Adrienne undoubtedly 
 was, in scenes which called for an unusual display of 
 passion, her acting appears to have left a good deal to 
 be desired, a circumstance probably attributable to her 
 want of physical strength. According to Colle, she 
 " excelled in scenes where the greatest finesse was 
 needed rather than those which required strength." 
 Her acting, too, was somewhat uneven ; to see her at 
 her best, Dumas d'Aigueberre tells us, " it was necessary 
 for her to be animated either by some part which pleased 
 her or by some object of interest." In fact, though no 
 one had ever given such magnificent renderings of the 
 roles of Monime and Berenice, she lacked the courage 
 and determination which had enabled Mile, de Champ- 
 mesle to make a success out of the most mediocre part. 
 The receipts of the Comedie-Fransaise during the early 
 years of its existence would, we are inclined to think, 
 have been much less satisfactory had it fallen to Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur's lot to interpret the insipid heroines of 
 Pradon and Boyer. 
 
 The principal roles created by Adrienne in tragedy 
 
 1 In Thomas Corneille's tragedy, Le Comte d'Essex.
 
 154 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 were Cleopatre in the Antiochus et CUopatre of Des- 
 champs, Antigone in the Machabtes of La Motte, 
 Zares in Esther, Nitetis in Danchet's play of that name, 
 Constance in La Motte's Ink de Castro, and the title- 
 part in Voltaire's Mariamne. 
 
 The last-named play failed, owing to one of those 
 little incidents so common to the French stage of that 
 day. At the moment when Mariamne, condemned to 
 death by poison, was on the point of raising the fatal 
 cup to her lips, a wag in the pit cried out, " La Reine 
 boit" a sally which was followed by such merriment that 
 the indignant actors declined to finish the play. Re- 
 written by Voltaire, who this time prudently made the 
 death of the heroine take place off the stage, it reappeared 
 a year later, under the title of Herode et Mariamne, when 
 it had twenty-eight representations, and when played 
 before the Court at Fontainebleau, moved the young 
 Queen, Marie Leczinska, to tears. 
 
 It was during the run of Mariamne, in its revised 
 form, that the quarrel between Voltaire and the Chevalier 
 de Rohan, second son of the Due de Rohan-Chabot, took 
 place. The poet and the chevalier were with several 
 other persons in Adrienne's dressing-room at the theatre; 
 Voltaire was giving the company the benefit of his views 
 on dramatic art or some other subject. " Who is that 
 young man who talks so loud ? " cried Rohan, who was 
 in love with Adrienne and very probably jealous of the 
 friendship existing between her and the poet. " He is 
 one who does not carry about a great name, but earns 
 respect for the name he has," was the retort. The 
 chevalier raised his cane threateningly ; Voltaire laid 
 his hand upon his sword ; Adrienne promptly sank 
 down in a swoon, or, perhaps, since she was an actress,
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 155 
 
 in a pretended swoon ; both gentlemen hastened to her 
 assistance, and the quarrel ceased. How, a few days 
 later, Rohan caused Voltaire to be cudgelled by his 
 lackeys ; how the enraged poet, after taking a course 
 of fencing lessons, challenged his enemy to a duel, and 
 how, in consequence, he was packed off to the Bastille, 
 for the second time, are incidents too well known to 
 require relation here. 1 
 
 In comedy Adrienne appears to have fallen very far 
 short of the high standard she attained as a tragedienne. 
 "She only played and shone in a few roles," says the 
 Mercure. The registers of the Comedie-Fran9aise show 
 that she attempted Celimene, "the touchstone of granges 
 coquettes" and Elmire in Tartuffe ; but, as she only figures 
 nine times in the former character and four times in the 
 latter, we may presume that her rendering of them could 
 not have been more than moderately successful. She 
 gave, however, a very pleasing interpretation of Alcmene 
 in Amphitryon, and Hortense in Le Florentin, in which 
 character she made her last appearance on the stage, and, 
 as Angelique, had a large share in the success of Piron's 
 Fils ingrats ; while to her acting in the part of the 
 heroine, Voltaire was much indebted for the favourable 
 reception accorded to his little comedy rindiscret. On 
 the other hand, as the Marquise, in Marivaux's Surprise de 
 r amour, she seems to have come very near to an absolute 
 failure, the critics accusing her of giving to what the 
 author intended to be a gay and frivolous character an 
 air of solemnity and dignity more befitting a tragedy 
 queen. 
 
 Several writers have asserted that Adrienne, not 
 
 1 According to another version of this affair, it was the challenge, 
 and not the quarrel, which took place in Adrienne's dressing-room.
 
 156 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 content with introducing a more natural mode of 
 enunciation, was the pioneer of reform in theatrical 
 costume. This is only partially true. Adrienne pos- 
 sessed excellent taste in dress, and was keenly alive to 
 the absurdity of clothing the heroes and heroines of 
 antiquity in the costume of the eighteenth century. 
 But her attempts in the direction of archaeological truth 
 do not appear to have been very bold or to have met 
 with much success ; and the first important transforma- 
 tion in this respect was due to the efforts of Mile. Clairon 
 and Lekain. She played, however, Queen Elizabeth, in 
 the Comte d'Essex, "in an English Court costume 
 decorated with the blue riband of the Garter," and the 
 inventory of her wardrobe, published by M. Georges 
 Monval, in his edition of her letters, comprise " douze 
 habits a la romaine " or what were believed to be such 
 of which two were of white damask, two of crimson 
 velvet, one of yellow satin, one of blue velvet, two of 
 white satin, and one of crimson damask, probably that 
 worn by Cornelie in the Mort de Pompte. Several of 
 these costumes were very richly wrought and realised 
 prices varying from eight hundred to a thousand livres, 
 equivalent, of course, to much larger sums in money of 
 to-day. The full description of one of them may not be 
 without interest : " Item, another costume a la romaine 
 of cherry-coloured velvet, composed of a train trimmed 
 with Spanish point and with bunches of flowers in the 
 train ; a petticoat of the same velvet trimmed with silver 
 Spanish point ; the body of the dress of the same material 
 trimmed with silver Spanish point, and shoulder-knots 
 likewise trimmed with Spanish point ; silver fringes 
 encircling the shoulder-knots ; and two little amadis y 
 also trimmed with silver Spanish point."
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 157 
 
 It is curious to note, remarks M. Larroumet, the 
 different ideas of what constituted a correct classical 
 costume which prevailed at various times on the French 
 stage. Thus, from the beginning of the pseudo-classical 
 revival in art down to the middle of the nineteenth 
 century, the tendency was all towards simplicity, and 
 Rachel delighted her audiences in severely simple robes 
 sparsely embroidered with gold and silver. Then came 
 the discovery that the ancients, so far from affecting the 
 austerity in dress with which they had so long been 
 credited, had had a weakness for rich stuffs and costly 
 ornaments, with the result that the costumes of the 
 Phedres and Athalies of to-day bear a much closer 
 resemblance to the satins and velvets of Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur than the woollen gowns of Rachel. 1 
 
 The jealousy with which Adrienne was regarded by 
 her colleagues at the Comedie-Fran9aise was not due 
 solely to her professional success ; besides being idolised 
 by the public, she had obtained for herself a social 
 position which had never been accorded to any of her 
 predecessors. At this period, actors and actresses still 
 remained on the borders of society. If exceptionally 
 handsome or talented, they were flattered and caressed 
 by the beau monde y taken for mistresses, or lovers, or 
 boon companions ; but access to regular society was 
 denied them. The extreme license of morals which 
 characterised the Regency brought with it no change in 
 this respect ; and if, now and again, some grande dame 
 chose to visit or receive a member of the theatrical 
 profession, the interview almost invariably took place 
 in private and often surreptitiously. 
 
 1 tudes de litterature et d'art : Adrienne Lecouvreur^ p. 141.
 
 158 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 That so rigid a rule should have been relaxed in 
 favour of Adrienne Lecouvreur, and of her alone, is 
 a very remarkable fact and a striking tribute to the 
 charm which she must have exercised over her own 
 as well as over the opposite sex. There can, however, 
 be little doubt that a very great gulf divided her from 
 her colleagues. Not only was she beautiful and fas- 
 cinating, but well-read, well-mannered, modest, and 
 unaffected, and a friend in whose discretion implicit 
 reliance could be imposed. She numbered among her 
 friends a princess of the blood, the Duchesse du Maine, 
 the Due and Duchesse de Gesvres, Madame de Pom- 
 ponne, Madame de Fontame-Martel, the wife of President 
 Berthier, the celebrated Marquise de Lambert, admission 
 to whose very exclusive " Tuesdays and Wednesdays " 
 conferred a sort of brevet of social distinction, d'Argental 
 and Maurice de Saxe, of both of whom we shall have 
 a good deal to say presently, the Due de Richelieu, the 
 Comte de Caylus, La Chalotais, and Pont-de-Veyle, not 
 to speak of men of letters, like Du Marsais, Fontenelle, 
 Voltaire, and Piron. 
 
 With all of these persons, and many others, Adrienne 
 was not only on friendly but on intimate terms, dining 
 and supping with them frequently and visiting them at 
 their country-houses, and giving, in return, charming 
 little suppers, before each of which, with singular tact, 
 she invariably requested the guest of the evening to select 
 those whom she desired to meet. 
 
 According to Titon du Tillet, it was Adrienne who 
 introduced the custom of actresses reciting at private 
 houses. " Mile. Lecouvreur," says he, " who was in 
 great request at the best houses in Paris and at the 
 Court, did not refuse in the assemblies which she
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 159 
 
 attended to declaim some fine tirades in verse, and 
 even whole scenes from tragedies, which delighted her 
 hearers. It was a very rare thing for persons of her 
 profession to recite verses outside the theatre, and I 
 have hardly known any one, save Baron, who gave people 
 this pleasure." 
 
 Unfortunately for Adrienne, her social duties, com- 
 bined with the arduous work of her profession, seem to 
 have imposed too great a tax upon her strength, and in 
 her letters to her friends she complains constantly of the 
 strain of this double life. The following letter, written 
 in May 1728, probably to Maurice de Saxe, gives us 
 an excellent insight into her character and also into the 
 life of a " society " actress. Allowing for the difference 
 in style, it might just as well have been written in the 
 twentieth as in the eighteenth century : 
 
 " I spend three parts of my time in doing that which 
 displeases me ; new acquaintances, whom, however, it is 
 impossible to escape, so long as I remain tied as I am, 
 preventing me from cultivating the old or from occupy- 
 ing myself at home as I should like to do. It is an 
 established custom for them to sup or dine with me, 
 because some duchesses have done me this honour. 
 There are persons whose kindness and graciousness 
 charm me, and they are sufficient for me, but I am unable 
 to devote myself to them, because I am a public person- 
 age, and it is absolutely necessary to reply to all those who 
 are desirous of making my acquaintance, or else be con- 
 sidered impertinent. However careful I am, I am con- 
 tinually offending people. If my poor health, which is 
 delicate, as you know, obliges me to refuse or to fail 
 some party of ladies whom I have never seen, and who
 
 160 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 have no interest in me beyond curiosity : ' Assuredly,' says 
 one, * she has a marvellous opinion of her importance ! ' 
 Another adds : ' It is because we are not titled ! ' If I 
 happen to be serious, for one cannot be very gay with 
 many people one does not know : ' Is this the girl who 
 has so much wit ? ' says one of the company. ' Don't 
 you see that she despises us,' says another, ' and that one 
 must know Greek in order to please her ? ' * She visits 
 Madame de Lambert,' exclaims a third ; ' does not that 
 explain the mystery ? ' I am still full of spiteful speeches 
 of this kind, and more occupied than ever in my desire 
 to become free and to have no longer to pay court, save 
 to those who really will entertain a kind feeling for me, 
 and will satisfy my heart and my mind. My vanity does 
 not find that numbers atone for merit in persons, and I 
 have no desire to shine. To keep my lips closed and 
 listen to good conversation, to find myself in the delight- 
 ful society of clever and virtuous people, is a hundred 
 times more pleasant to me than to be stunned by all the 
 insipid praises which they lavish upon me right and left 
 in many places to which I go. It is not that I am want- 
 ing in gratitude or in the wish to please, but I find that 
 the approbation of fools is not flattering, and that it 
 becomes burdensome when it has to be purchased by 
 individual and repeated complaisances." 
 
 From the above letter, it will be seen that Adrienne's 
 tastes lay in the direction of a retired and peaceful life 
 in the midst of a small circle of chosen friends, and that 
 the wearisome round of social pleasures possessed but few 
 attractions for her. In her exquisitely furnished house 
 in the Rue des Marais the same in which Mile, de 
 Champmesle and, after her, Racine had formerly lived,
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 161 
 
 and which, in later years, was to become the residence of 
 Mile. Clairon she spent the greater part of her scanty 
 leisure, her favourite occupations being reading and 
 music. She possessed a small but excellent library, con- 
 taining some four hundred volumes, dramatic literature 
 and memoirs and historical works predominating. Among 
 the former were complete editions of the plays of Moliere 
 and Racine ; among the latter Echard's Histoire Romaine, 
 Daniel's Histoire de France^ Les Revolutions cC Anghterre 
 by Pere d 'Or leans, and the Memoires of Madame de 
 Motteville. 1 
 
 That Adrienne should have numbered among her 
 friends of the opposite sex several who were desirous 
 of establishing a closer relationship with the charming 
 actress was, of course, only to be expected. Barbier, in 
 his Journal, asserts that one Prungent, intendant of the 
 Duchess of Brunswick, was her lover, and had " squan- 
 dered with her the money of the princess " ; while other 
 contemporary writers mention in the same connection the 
 celebrated Lord Peterborough, the Chevalier de Rohan, 
 and Voltaire. 
 
 Voltaire had been one of the first to appreciate both 
 the talents and personal qualities of Adrienne, and in 
 a letter to Thieriot, written shortly after the actress's 
 untimely death, he declares himself to have been " her 
 admirer, her friend, her lover." The biographers of the 
 lady are divided in opinion as to whether this last term 
 is to be taken in its literal, or in its platonic and poetic 
 sense ; but whatever may have been the relations between 
 the tragedienne and the writer, it is certain that Adrienne 
 found in Voltaire one of the firmest and most devoted 
 
 1 Lettres if Adrienne Lecouvreur, by M. Georges Monval, p. 252. 
 
 L
 
 1 62 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 of her friends, who is undoubtedly sincere when he 
 reminds her 
 
 " De la pauvre amiti que son coeur a pour elle," 
 
 and who remained tenderly attached to her to the last 
 hour of her life. 
 
 However, even if Adrienne yielded in favour of a 
 dramatic author to the customs of her profession, or, as 
 Lemontey expresses it, was "bound to Voltaire by the 
 ties of glory and of love which in the preceding century 
 had united Racine and the Champmesle," it is improbable 
 that either of the other persons mentioned were anything 
 more than admirers. The actress's early experiences of 
 the tender passion had, as we have seen, been singularly 
 bitter ; the selfishness of man had inflicted upon her the 
 most cruel of humiliations for a loving and sensitive 
 woman, that of being cast aside like a broken toy when 
 she had surrendered herself in the most absolute confi- 
 dence, and she had come to Paris firmly resolved to 
 remain henceforth mistress of her heart and her actions. 
 The letters published by M. Monval show that, during 
 the first three years of her residence in the capital, she 
 replied to several declarations of love by offers of friend- 
 ship, explaining her ideas on the subject with singular 
 frankness. 
 
 " If I am unable to render you more happy," she 
 writes to one of her soupirants, " I am more grieved than 
 you yourself. I reproach myself. I tell myself, without 
 doubt, more than you can tell me ; but I could not deceive 
 you. Caprices do not agree with reason, and love is 
 nothing else but a folly which I detest, and to which I 
 shall strive hard not to surrender myself so long as I live.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 163 
 
 You will understand it yet, and the severity with which I 
 have treated you will serve then only to render you more 
 happy. Permit me to approach the matter with you, and 
 to offer you my counsels. Be my friend ; I am worthy 
 of that, but choose for mistress one who possesses a heart 
 quite untampered with ; who has not yet repented of that 
 trust which renders everything so beautiful ; who has been 
 neither betrayed nor deserted ; who believes you such as 
 you are, and all men such as you. Let her be young and 
 rather strong ; she will be the less sensitive. Finally, see 
 that she gives to you as much constancy as I should have 
 given, if I had never loved any one save you." 
 
 Among the adorers whom Adrienne rejected, and 
 whose friendship she nevertheless succeeded in retaining 
 through life, was the Marquis de la Chalotais, whose 
 famous quarrel with Madame du Barry's protige^ the 
 Due d'Aiguillon, convulsed all France during the last 
 years of Louis XV. The future Advocate-General of 
 the Parliament of Brittany was, at the time when he 
 made Adrienne's acquaintance, a gay young abb and a 
 great frequenter of the Comedie-Francaise, where he paid 
 assiduous court to its chief divinity, but without obtaining 
 anything save her friendship and esteem. Having suc- 
 ceeded to the family title and become Advocate-General 
 at Rennes, he continued to correspond with his former 
 enchantress, and was in the habit of sending her a present 
 every year. Only nine days before her death, Adrienne 
 wrote him a charming letter, thanking him for his gift 
 and assuring him of her lasting regard : 
 
 " When one has been acquainted with a person for ten 
 or twelve years, and has a kind of attachment for him
 
 164 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 which is proof against separation and ought not to injure 
 any one, one may speak without restraint. I assure you, 
 then, that I love you as much as I esteem you, that I pray 
 for your happiness and that of all belonging to you, and 
 I entreat you to retain for me remembrance and more." 
 
 In his letter, La Chalotais had expressed regret that it 
 was impossible for him to take lessons in declamation from 
 Adrienne ; and the actress concludes by very modestly 
 defining her own method of elocution, and giving her 
 friend some very excellent advice on the subject : 
 
 " You say that you would like me to teach you the 
 art of declamation, of which you stand in need. You 
 have then forgotten that I do not declaim. The sim- 
 plicity of my acting is my one poor merit ; but this 
 simplicity, which chance has turned to my advantage, 
 appears to me indispensable to a man in your profession. 
 The first requisite is intelligence, and that you have ; the 
 next, to allow beneficent Nature to do her work. To 
 speak with grace, nobility, and simplicity, and to reserve 
 all your energies for the argument, are what you will say 
 and do better than any man." 
 
 An admirer whom Adrienne had infinitely more 
 difficulty in persuading to be content with friendship 
 than La Chalotais was Voltaire's faithful ally, d'Argental. 
 D'Argental, who was then a lad scarcely out of his teens, 
 conceived for the actress a most violent passion, and, 
 though the latter repeatedly assured him that friendship 
 was all she had to bestow, for long refused to abandon 
 hope. 
 
 In the meantime, his infatuation had become common 
 knowledge, and his family, forgetting La Rochefoucauld's
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 165 
 
 maxim that absence, while extinguishing feeble passions, 
 only adds fuel to great ones, sent him to England in the 
 hope that separation might effect a cure. With the con- 
 sent of his mother, Madame de Ferriol, Adrienne wrote 
 him long and frequent letters, carefully avoiding, however, 
 the forbidden topic, her object being to accustom him to 
 regard her merely as a friend. But these epistles appear 
 to have had a very different effect from the one intended 
 by the writer ; the cure made no progress, and the 
 young man's family, fearing that the actress was but 
 simulating indifference in order to augment his passion 
 to the point of offering her marriage, resolved to remove 
 him altogether out of reach of his enchantress by banish- 
 ing him to St. Domingo. 
 
 However, no such drastic measures were necessary, 
 for Adrienne, learning of what was intended, lost no time 
 in writing to the anxious mother a most charming letter, 
 which had the effect of completely allaying her appre- 
 hensions on the young gentleman's behalf. As all the 
 actress's biographers concur in pronouncing this letter to 
 be the pearl of her correspondence, we need make no 
 apology for transcribing it at length : 
 
 " PARIS, March 22, 1721. 
 
 " Madame, I cannot learn without being deeply 
 pained of your anxiety and of the resolves with which 
 this anxiety has inspired you. I might add that I have 
 been not less grieved by learning that you blame my 
 conduct ; but I write to you less to justify it than to 
 protest that for the future, in all that concerns you, 
 it shall be such as you may wish to prescribe. I had 
 requested permission to see you last Tuesday, with the 
 intention of speaking to you in confidence and of asking
 
 1 66 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 you for your commands. But your reception of me 
 destroyed my ardour, and I found myself only timid 
 and sad. It is necessary, however, that you should be 
 aware of my true sentiments, and, if you will permit me 
 to add something further, that you should not disdain 
 to listen to my very humble remonstrances, if you do 
 not wish to lose your son. 
 
 " He is the most respectful youth and the most 
 honest man that I have met in my life. You would 
 admire him did he not belong to you. Once again, 
 Madame, deign to co-operate with me in destroying a 
 weakness which irritates you, and in which I have no 
 part, whatever you may say. Do not show him either 
 contempt or harshness. I would prefer to take upon 
 myself all his hatred, in spite of the friendship, affection, 
 and veneration that I entertain for him, than expose him 
 to the least temptation which might cause him to fail 
 in respect towards you. You are too interested in 
 curing him not to strive earnestly to attain your object ; 
 but you are too much so to succeed in attaining it 
 unaided, above all, when you endeavour to combat his 
 inclination by the exercise of your authority, or by 
 painting me in disadvantageous colours, whether true or 
 not. His passion must indeed be an extraordinary one, 
 since it has existed so long without the least hope, in 
 the midst of disappointments, in spite of the journeys 
 you have made him undertake, and during eight months' 
 residence in Paris, during which he never saw me, at 
 least not at my house, and was unaware if I should ever 
 receive him again. I conceived him to be cured, and, for 
 that reason, consented to see him during my last illness. 
 It is easy to believe that his society would afford me 
 infinite pleasure, were it not for this unhappy passion,
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 167 
 
 which astonishes as much as it flatters me, but of which 
 I decline to take advantage. You fear that, if he sees 
 me, he will depart from his duty, and you carry this fear 
 to such a point as to take violent resolutions against 
 him. Assuredly, Madame, it is not just that he should 
 be rendered unhappy in so many ways. Do not add 
 anything to my severity ; seek rather to console him ; 
 make all his resentment fall on me, but let your kind- 
 ness serve to reassure him. 
 
 " I will write to him whatever you please ; I will 
 never see him again, if such is your wish ; I will even 
 withdraw to the country, if you consider it necessary. 
 But do not threaten to send him to the end of the 
 world. He may be of service to his country ; he will 
 be the delight of his friends ; he will fill you with 
 pride and satisfaction. You have only to guide his 
 talents, and leave his virtues to act for themselves. 
 Forget for a time that you are his mother, if this 
 character is opposed to the kindness that, on my knees, 
 I beg you to extend to him. Finally, Madame, you 
 will see me prefer to retire from the world, or to love 
 him with the love of passion, rather than to suffer him 
 to be any more tormented for me or by me." 
 
 Adrienne did not speak of this letter to her adorer, 
 neither did Madame de Ferriol deem it advisable to 
 communicate it to him; and its existence, in consequence, 
 remained unknown to d'Argental until sixty-three years 
 later, when he discovered it by accident among some old 
 papers which had belonged to his mother. 
 
 We may well believe that the old man shed many 
 tears over those faded pages, for Adrienne, while 
 refusing him her love, had succeeded in making him
 
 1 68 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 the most faithful and devoted of all her friends. The 
 process of transition, seldom an easy one, had been 
 rendered the more difficult, inasmuch as, shortly after 
 the above letter was written, d'Argental had the morti- 
 fication of seeing another take the place which had been 
 denied him. However, Adrienne spared no pains to 
 convince him of the wisdom of her decision, and, at the 
 same time, of the value which she attached to his affec- 
 tion and regard. 
 
 " Do not cease either to be prudent or to love me," 
 she writes. " The sentiments that I entertain for you 
 are worth more than the most violent and most dis- 
 ordered passion." And again : " Let my life be the 
 term of your constancy, my dear friend. . . . Adieu, 
 my dear friend ; I am very affected in writing to you, 
 and never was I more penetrated by friendship, affec- 
 tion, and esteem. Adieu ; do not forget me entirely, 
 or, at any rate, do not allow me to imagine so." 
 
 D'Argental, like La Chalotais, made the law his 
 profession, and, in due time, became one of the councillors 
 of the Parliament of Paris. The gravity expected from 
 one holding such a post, however, in no way interfered 
 with his intimacy with Adrienne, who was in the habit 
 of consulting him on all business matters, and, when 
 dying, appointed him her sole executor. 1 
 
 Although there can be little doubt that Adrienne 
 
 1 The acceptance of this charge must have required some little 
 courage on the good councillor's part, since rumour credited him with 
 being something more than a friend to the actress, which is perhaps not 
 altogether a matter for surprise, seeing that he was so frequent a visitor in 
 the Rue des Marais that he *' passed for the master of the house, and was 
 addressed by the servants as Monsieur ' only, without the addition of his 
 name."
 
 MAURICE DE SAXE 
 From an engraving by J. G. WILL, after the painting by HYACINTHE RIGAUIJ
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 169 
 
 was perfectly sincere when she declared her conviction 
 that love was " nothing but a folly which she detested," 
 and that she was still mistress of her heart when she 
 resisted the first overtures of poor d'Argental, it is not 
 improbable that at the time she wrote her celebrated 
 letter to Madame de Ferriol, she had already renounced 
 the wise resolutions with which she had come to Paris 
 in favour of one whom she loved to her life's end with a 
 tenderness, a devotion, and a disinterestedness to which 
 even the most rigid of moralists do not fail to pay 
 tribute. 
 
 About the middle of the year 1720, there arrived 
 in Paris a young man who was destined to become one 
 of the most remarkable figures of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury Maurice, " Count of Saxony," celebrated in later 
 years as Marechal de Saxe. A natural son of Augustus 
 II., Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, and Aurora 
 von Konigsmark, sister of the ill-fated lover of George 
 I.'s uncrowned queen, the future victor of Fontenoy was 
 still at this date only a high-born military adventurer in 
 search of some promising field for the exercise of his 
 talents. From his boyhood Maurice had been a soldier. 
 When only twelve years of age, under the direction of 
 the Count von Schulenburg, one of the ablest generals of 
 the time, he had been present at the sieges of Tournay 
 and Mons and the battle of Malplaquet, carrying a 
 musket, like an ordinary sous-qffider, in a regiment 
 despatched by Augustus II. to the assistance of the 
 Emperor. Returning to the camp of the allies in 1710, 
 he assisted at the sieges of Douai and Bethune, where 
 he displayed such reckless courage as to call forth from 
 Prince Eugene the admonition not to confound rashness 
 with bravery. Two years later, he accompanied his royal
 
 i yo QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 father to the siege of Stralsund, and again exhibited the 
 same impetuosity in an attempt to cut his way through 
 the enemy and engage Charles XII. in single combat. 
 Delighted by his courage, Augustus promoted him 
 colonel the following year, and, at the age of seventeen, 
 gave him the command of a regiment of cuirassiers. 
 The Countess von KOnigsmark, on her side, worked to 
 assure her son's fortunes by a wealthy marriage, and 
 succeeded in securing for him the hand of the Countess 
 von Loben, the richest heiress in Saxony. This lady's 
 fortune he quickly dissipated, and other and graver 
 causes of complaint against him not being wanting, in 
 1721 the marriage was annulled. In the meanwhile, 
 Maurice had made a campaign, under Eugene, against 
 the Turks, and had also contrived to irritate his father 
 by breaches of military discipline and other irregularities. 
 In consequence, Augustus II., whose resentment against 
 the young man was artfully fanned by his chief Minister, 
 Count Flemming, who had conceived a strong antipathy 
 to Maurice, advised him to leave Germany and take ser- 
 vice with France, and he accordingly set out for Paris. 
 Here he was well received by the Regent, who ap- 
 pointed him marshal de camp, his father soon afterwards 
 purchasing for him the command of the Regiment of 
 Greder, one of the foreign corps in the French Service. 
 
 From the moment of his arrival in Paris, Maurice de 
 Saxe claimed a large share of the attention of both Court 
 and town. Tall and superbly built, with " circular 
 black eyebrows, eyes glittering bright, partly with animal 
 vivacity, partly with spiritual," a high complexion, and 
 a frank, open countenance, he was one of the handsomest 
 men of his time. His physical strength was extra- 
 ordinary ; no amount of exertion seemed able to fatigue
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 171 
 
 him ; in war and in the chase he was capable of perform- 
 ing prodigies of endurance ; he could break between 
 his fingers crown-pieces and horseshoes. He was seen 
 everywhere. On the parade ground, he brought his 
 regiment to the highest pitch of perfection, invented 
 new formations and tactics, and quickly made himself 
 respected by his superior officers and adored by the 
 soldiers. In the fashionable world, he was equally 
 successful ; no roue of the Regent's circle could surpass 
 him in extravagance, folly, and debauchery ; while, 
 despite his brusque manners, which procured him 
 the sobriquet of sangtier (wild boar), he was a welcome 
 guest in many a salon. Soldier, sportsman, athlete, 
 gambler, drinker, and lover, he was all things to all 
 men and all women. 
 
 A great patron of the Comedie-Franfaise, it was in- 
 evitable that Maurice de Saxe and Adrienne Lecouvreur 
 should meet, and no less inevitable that the count 
 should pay the actress assiduous court, for if Maurice 
 resembled his father, the " Saxon Man of Sin," in 
 appearance, vivacity, and physical strength, he did so 
 even more closely in his vices. All poor Adrienne's 
 wise resolutions failed her in the presence of this young 
 hero, " to whom," says Des Boulmiers, " hearts offered 
 no more resistance than towns." " From the day that 
 she knew him, she was charmed, subjugated, ravished ; 
 it seemed to her that she only then began to live. She 
 surrendered herself as she had never surrendered herself 
 before/' l 
 
 It is not difficult to understand the attraction which 
 Adrienne possessed for Maurice de Saxe, and which 
 kept him, though very far from faithful, at least 
 
 1 M. Paleologue, Profits defemmes : Adrienne Lecouvreur.
 
 172 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 attached to her for nearly ten years. Her beauty and 
 grace flattered his senses, while her moral qualities 
 appealed to the better side of his nature, to that in- 
 stinct of heroism and idealism which lay at the root 
 of his character, and which, though often obscured in 
 the midst of his debaucheries, was never wholly ex- 
 tinguished. Less easy is it to comprehend the absolute 
 devotion which Adrienne cherished for him ; a devotion 
 which remained proof against absence, infidelity, ill- 
 humour, and indifference, and which endured till the 
 last hour of her life. 
 
 We are inclined, however, to think with M. 
 Paleologue whose study of the actress from the 
 psychological point of view is as admirable as M. 
 Larroumet's from the dramatic that apart from "that 
 species of fascination and magnetism which the liber- 
 tine, when he is not of vulgar race, exercises over the 
 feminine mind," Adrienne had very early discovered 
 the really great qualities of Maurice, and that the pros- 
 pect of developing them, and of generally exercising a 
 beneficent influence over such a man, was a temptation 
 which an imagination so generous as hers found it 
 impossible to resist. 
 
 The results of this influence are well summarised by 
 Lemontey in the lloge of the actress which he read at a 
 stance of the Academy in 1823 : 
 
 "She was then thirty, an age favourable to ex- 
 perience and passion, which renders a woman as skilful 
 to please as prompt to love. As in the time of chivalry, 
 her cares, her tenderness, her wise counsels, initiated her 
 friend into the amiable accomplishments, the benevo- 
 lent virtues, the polished manners which, in the sequel, 
 made him as much a Frenchman as his victories. Under
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 173 
 
 her sweet tuition, the Achilles of Homer became the 
 Achilles of Racine. She adorned his mind without 
 enervating it, and modified what seemed extraordinary 
 and singular in the turn of his ideas. She taught him 
 our language, our literature, and inspired him with the 
 taste for poetry, for music, for all the arts, and with that 
 passion /or the theatre which followed him even into 
 the camp. One might say of the victor of Fontenoy 
 and his beautiful preceptress that he learned from her 
 everything save war, which he knew better than any one, 
 and orthography, which he never knew at all." * 
 
 For four years that is to say, from 1721 to 1725 
 the liaison between Adrienne and Maurice de Saxe con- 
 tinued without any particular incident ; Maurice pur- 
 suing his military studies, making journeys to Dresden 
 and Warsaw to visit his father, on whose behalf he 
 seems to have acted as a sort of unofficial ambassador 
 in France, and indulging in a good many passades ; 
 Adrienne, though she must have very speedily awakened 
 to the fact that what was the all-absorbing interest in her 
 life was but a mere episode in her hero's, loving him none 
 the less devotedly, and deriving consolation from the 
 thought that, if others disputed with her the possession 
 of his heart, she alone possessed his confidence. Then 
 came a long separation. The Duchy of Courland, which 
 for nearly two centuries had been under the protection of 
 Poland, fell vacant through the death of Duke Ferdi- 
 nand, who ruled in the name of his niece, Anne Ivanovna, 
 afterwards Czarina of Russia, a childless widow. Several 
 candidates for the ducal crown presented themselves, and 
 the unprepossessing duchess found herself beset with 
 suitors, eager to strengthen their claims by securing her 
 
 1 For a specimen of Maurice's orthography, see page 240, note, infra.
 
 174 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 hand. Augustus II., however, decided to put forward his 
 son, and Anne, having been approached on the matter, 
 expressed herself favourably disposed towards a marriage 
 with the young man. 
 
 The prospect of conquering a kingdom for himself 
 with his sword, as, even should the Diet elect him and 
 Anne accept him as her husband, his rivals were not likely 
 to abandon their claims without a struggle, appealed 
 strongly to the adventurous Maurice, and he set out for 
 Courland. Everything augured well for his success, 
 when, one day in May 1726, he received, to his astonish- 
 ment and disgust, orders from his father to renounce his 
 candidature. Diplomatic complications obliged Augustus 
 to discourage his son's ambition. 
 
 Maurice ignored the paternal commands, and some 
 days later found him at Mitau, paying court to the 
 duchess. But, at the same time, in order to leave nothing 
 to chance, he carried on, through the medium of the 
 Saxon ambassador at St. Petersburg, a second matrimonial 
 negotiation, without prejudice to the first, with the 
 Grand Duchess Elizabeth Petrovna, to wit. The am- 
 bassador sent to Dresden for a portrait of the count, and 
 showed it to the princess, who was so charmed with the 
 counterfeit presentment that she straightway declared 
 her willingness to espouse the original. Both Anne and 
 Elizabeth, it is hardly necessary to observe, were in 
 blissful ignorance of the double game played by Maurice, 
 who pursued his negotiations with much address, wooing 
 the one lady in person and the other by proxy. Once 
 more matters looked hopeful for the young adventurer, 
 save that now that his father had abandoned him he 
 was in sore straits for money. His mother sent him 
 all she could, but the sums he received from her were
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 175 
 
 very far from being sufficient for his needs, and he 
 accordingly appealed to the generosity of his friends in 
 France. Adrienne was the first to respond. Though, 
 of course, well aware that, in the event of Maurice's 
 success, she would lose him for ever, the devoted woman 
 never hesitated a moment, but sold or pledged her 
 jewellery and plate, and sent the proceeds some 40,000 
 livres l to her lover. 
 
 Her generosity, however, was of no avail. In spite 
 of his courage and energy, and the assistance of his friends 
 in France, Maurice failed. On June 28, 1726, he was 
 elected Duke of Courland ; " but the problem was to 
 fall in love with the Dowager Anne Ivanovna, a big, 
 brazen Russian woman (such a cheek the pictures give 
 her, in size and somewhat in expression like a Westphalia 
 ham) and this, with all his adventurous audacity, Count 
 Maurice could not do." 2 The result was that, after 
 maintaining his authority for about a year and perform- 
 ing prodigies of reckless valour, the new duke, attacked 
 by Russia, proscribed by Poland, abandoned by his 
 partisans, disavowed by his father, renounced by Anne 
 (" who had discovered that he did not like Westphalia 
 hams in that particular form, that he only pretended 
 to like them "), and by the Grand Duchess, who had 
 fathomed his little scheme, was compelled to surrender 
 his dukedom and shake the dust of Courland off his 
 feet. 
 
 That during this long separation Maurice remained 
 faithful to his absent mistress is very improbable. From 
 the diplomatic correspondence of the time, it would 
 appear that the handsome adventurer had aroused among 
 
 1 And not ^30,000, as Carlyle and so many writers have stated. 
 
 2 Carlyle's " History of Frederick the Great," ii. 160.
 
 1 76 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 the fair sex of Saxony, Poland, and Courland a veritable 
 enthusiasm. All the great ladies of Dresden, Warsaw, 
 Mitau, and Riga had espoused his cause, and compelled 
 their husbands to do likewise. " Count Poicey (Grand 
 Marshal of Lithuania)," wrote one of the ministers of 
 Augustus II., " has gone into this affair, like Adam into 
 sin, seduced by his wife." When the Diet of Mitau 
 elected Maurice duke, the delight of his fair partisans 
 knew no bounds. " The women cannot sleep for joy," 
 wrote the Saxon ambassador at St. Petersburg. " As 
 many thousand crowns as our hero has just made 
 Actaeons would be very welcome to me." 
 
 Nevertheless, in spite of his military and political 
 occupations and his presumed bonnes fortunes, Maurice 
 found time to think of Adrienne, to write to her " twice 
 a week regularly," and to " testify towards her more 
 affection and confidence than ever." Adrienne, in her 
 turn, passes on the news to one of her friends in an 
 interesting letter, in which she shows herself thoroughly 
 conversant with the somewhat complicated state of 
 affairs in Poland. She deplores the " disgraceful weak- 
 ness " of Augustus II., who "allowed himself to be 
 governed by the most cruel enemy of his glory (his 
 Minister Flemming), and the most bitter enemy of the 
 son of whom he was unworthy " ; severely censures the 
 conduct of the English Government, " which had pro- 
 mised assistance which it had now no intention of 
 rendering," and declares that she was " dying of fear " 
 and " tormented to an extent which she could not 
 describe." 
 
 On October 23, 1728, Maurice returned to Paris, 
 and the lovers were united once more. "A person 
 expected for a very long time arrives this evening,"
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 177 
 
 writes Adrienne to a friend, " apparently in moderately 
 good health. A courier has come on in advance, because 
 the berlin in which they were travelling broke down 
 thirty leagues from here. They have started in a post- 
 chaise, and this evening they will be here." The liaison 
 was resumed, but it seems to have been troubled by 
 frequent storms. Maurice returned a disappointed man ; 
 the future seemed dark, his star was temporarily hidden ; 
 a life of inaction, always trying to one of his restless, 
 ambitious temperament, was well-nigh intolerable after 
 the adventurous years he had spent in Courland. He 
 sought relief in pleasure the chase, high play, and 
 gallantry ; wearied of that, and endeavoured to kill 
 time by the study of mathematics and the art of war 
 and the composition of his curious Reveries. Wearied 
 of that also, turned to Adrienne for consolation, and 
 vented his ill-humour upon her. Claiming the utmost 
 liberty for himself, he was, nevertheless, indisposed to 
 concede even a small measure of it to his mistress. He 
 grew jealous and suspicious of her friends, and even 
 believed, or professed to believe, that her relations with 
 one of them were exceeding the limits of friendship ; for 
 we find Adrienne writing to a confidant as follows : 
 
 " I am worn out with anger and grief ; I have been 
 dissolved in tears this livelong night. Perhaps it is 
 unreasonable of me, since I have nothing wherewith 
 to reproach myself; but I cannot endure severity so 
 little deserved. They suspect me ; they do more, they 
 accuse me ; they do worse still, they wish to convict 
 me, and that without giving me an opportunity of 
 defending myself, in such a way that, if chance does not 
 enable me to ascertain what is happening, I shall be 
 
 M
 
 iy 8 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 covered with the most horrible calumny possible to 
 conceive, by a man who has borne the name of my friend 
 for ten years. They do not wish me to tell you this. 
 I esteem and love tenderly him who forbids me, but I 
 know not how to keep it to myself; I am too affected, 
 too wounded, and too alarmed for the future not to 
 reveal it, at any rate, to you. I need advice. A man 
 capable of this calumny may very well imagine others ; 
 and that which distresses me the more is the necessity 
 for dissimulation. To exclaim against deceit is natural, 
 and I would prefer to pardon it rather than to be com- 
 pelled to restrain both my grief and my feelings. I 
 have been told that it is his way of thinking, that he 
 does not intend to do me any wrong in confounding me 
 with the generality of women. I cannot entertain this 
 idea. That is not the language he has held to me for 
 ten years, and ought not to be the reward of my atten- 
 tion to please him and to make him esteem me, at least, 
 according to my deserts. What can one do to me, after 
 all, save wound me in the place where I am the most 
 sensitive ? I could destroy in an instant the error in 
 question ; but how am I to console myself for the 
 intention of this calumny ? This is not a chance sus- 
 picion ; it is a confidence made to a man who has no 
 feeling for me, save friendship, but whose friendship is 
 worth more than all the passions in the world, whose 
 esteem is more precious to me than life, and whose 
 companionship is more necessary for me than all the 
 fortunes in the universe. It is before him that I am 
 made to appear false and contemptible. Whatever he 
 says, they attest my supposed crime. O mon Dieu ! 
 What are we to do ? "
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 179 
 
 Seventeen months after Maurice's return to France 
 Adrienne died, under peculiarly dramatic circumstances ; 
 popular rumour ascribing her death to poison adminis- 
 tered by the agents of the Duchesse de Bouillon, 1 a 
 pretender to the heart of the Saxon hero, who was 
 already under suspicion of having made an attempt upon 
 her rival's life. To arrive at a satisfactory conclusion 
 in regard to this very mysterious affair, it would be 
 necessary to have before us the dossier containing the 
 report of the autopsy and other important documents 
 of which Sainte-Beuve speaks in his well-known study 
 of the actress. This dossier has, however, disappeared, 
 and it is uncertain if it is still in existence ; the proba- 
 bility is that it has been destroyed. Sainte-Beuve's 
 conclusion was that the Duchesse de Bouillon was guilt- 
 less, not only of Adrienne's death, which he ascribes to 
 natural causes, but of any attempt on her life. The 
 former opinion was, no doubt, justified by the evidence 
 which the lost dossier contained. But the latter, which 
 seems to have been based on an altogether misplaced 
 belief in the veracity of a certain Abbe Aunillon who 
 was on terms of the closest intimacy with the accused 
 duchess, and invented a most ingenious defence on 
 behalf of his friend, which we need not enter into here 
 the great critic would probably have seen cause to alter 
 had he been acquainted with the documents which have 
 
 1 Louise Henriette Francoise of Lorraine (Mile, de Guise), daughter 
 of the Prince and Princesse d'Harcourt, and fourth wife of Emmanuel 
 Theodose de la Tour d'Auvergne, Due de Bouillon, whom she married 
 in 1725. Here is a contemporary portrait of her : * Very pretty ; rather 
 tall than short ; neither stout nor slender ; an oval face ; a broad fore- 
 head ; black eyes and eyebrows ; brown hair ; very wide mouth and 
 very red lips."
 
 i8o QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 been brought to light of recent years by M. Ravaisson, 
 M. Campardon, and M. Monval. 
 
 Let us, however, borrow the account of the affair 
 given a few days after Adrienne's death, by Mile. A'fsse 
 in a letter to Madame Calandrini, and which, she declares, 
 had been furnished her by " a friend of the Lecouvreur," 
 probably d'Argental, to whom she was related : 
 
 " Madame de Bouillon is capricious, violent, head- 
 strong, and much addicted to gallantry. Her tastes 
 extend from the prince to the actor. 1 She conceived a 
 fancy for the Comte de Saxe, who had none for her. 
 Not that he piques himself on his fidelity to the 
 Lecouvreur ; for, together with his passion for her, he 
 has a thousand little passing tastes. But he was neither 
 flattered nor anxious to reply to the impulsiveness of 
 Madame de Bouillon, who was enraged at seeing her 
 charms despised, and who had no doubt that the 
 Lecouvreur was the obstacle that stood in the way of 
 the passion that the Count would otherwise naturally 
 entertain for her. 2 To destroy this obstacle, she resolved 
 to get rid of the actress, and, in order to put this horrible 
 design into execution, chose a young abbe, 3 with whom 
 
 1 She numbered among her lovers the Comte de Clermont, a Prince 
 of the Blood, the actors Quinault-Dufresne and Grandval of the Come'die- 
 Fran$aise, and a singer of the Opera, named Tribou. 
 
 2 The real obstacle was probably an Opera girl named Cartou, of 
 whom Maurice was desperately enamoured. According to Grimm, this 
 young lady followed her lover to the famous Camp of Muhlberg, in 
 Saxony, where she had the honour of supping with two kings, Augustus 
 II. of Poland and Frederick William of Prussia, and two future kings, 
 Augustus III. and Frederick the Great. 
 
 3 His name was Bouret, and he was the son of a government official 
 at Metz. He was at this time nineteen years of age, and had come to 
 Paris, some months before, to study painting.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 181 
 
 she was not personally acquainted, to be the instrument 
 of her vengeance. He was approached by two men at 
 the Tuileries, who proposed to him, after a rather lengthy 
 conversation regarding his poverty, to free himself from 
 his distress by obtaining admission, under favour of his 
 skill in painting, into Lecouvreur's house, and persuading 
 her to eat some lozenges, which would be given him. 
 The poor abbe objected strongly, on account of the 
 heinousness of the crime ; but the two men replied that 
 it no longer depended upon him to refuse, since he 
 would do so on peril of his life. The abbe, terrified, 
 promised everything ; and was conducted to Madame 
 de Bouillon, who confirmed the promises and threats, 
 and handed him the lozenges. The abbe begged that 
 a few days might be allowed him for the execution of 
 these projects ; and Mile. Lecouvreur received one day, 
 on returning home with one of her friends and an actress 
 named Lamothe, an anonymous letter, in which she was 
 implored to come immediately, either alone or with 
 some one on whom she could depend, to the garden 
 of the Luxembourg, where, at the fifth tree in one of 
 the main avenues, she would find a man who had some- 
 thing of the last importance to communicate to her. As 
 it was then precisely the hour appointed for the rendez- 
 vous, she re-entered her coach and set out thither, 
 accompanied by the two persons who were with her. 
 She found the abbe, who accosted her and related to 
 her the odious commission with which he had been 
 entrusted, declaring that he was incapable of commit- 
 ting such a crime ; but that he was at a loss what to 
 do, inasmuch as he was sure to be assassinated. 
 
 "The Lecouvreur told him that, for the safety 
 of both, the whole affair must be denounced to the
 
 1 82 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Lieutenant of Police. The abbe replied that he feared 
 that, if he were to do this, he might make himself enemies 
 too powerful for him to resist; but that, if she believed 
 this precaution necessary for her safety, he would not hesi- 
 tate to maintain what he had told her. The Lecouvreur 
 took him in her coach to M. Hrault (the Lieutenant 
 of Police), who, on the facts being laid before him, 
 asked the abb for the lozenges and threw them to a 
 dog, who died a quarter of an hour afterwards. He 
 next inquired of him which of the two Bouillons 1 had 
 given him this commission, and, when the abb replied 
 that it was the duchess, showed no surprise. M. Herault 
 continued to question him, and asked if he would 
 venture to support this accusation publicly ; to which 
 the abb replied that he could put him in prison and 
 afterwards confront him with Madame de Bouillon. 
 
 "The Lieutenant of Police sent him away, and in- 
 formed the cardinal (de Fleury) of this adventure. 
 The cardinal was very indignant, and desired in the first 
 instance that the affair should be most strictly inves- 
 tigated. But the relatives and friends of the Bouillon 
 family persuaded the cardinal not to give publicity to 
 so scandalous an affair, and succeeded in appeasing him. 
 Some months later, no one knows how, the adven- 
 ture was made public and caused a terrible commotion. 
 Madame de Bouillon's brother-in-law spoke of it to his 
 brother, and told him that it was absolutely imperative 
 that his wife should clear herself from such a suspicion, 
 
 1 The Duchesse and her stepson's wife, the Princesse de Bouillon 
 (Marie Charlotte Sobieska), wife of Charles Godefroi de la Tour 
 d'Auvergne, Prince de Bouillon, whom she married in 1724. Several 
 writers have confounded the two ladies, and Scribe and Legouve, in their 
 tragedy, Adriennc Lecouvreur t make the princess, and not the duchess, 
 the rival and murderess of the heroine.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 183 
 
 and that he ought to ask for a lettre de cachet to shut 
 the abbe up. There was no difficulty in obtaining this 
 lettre de cachet^ and the poor wretch was arrested and 
 taken to the Bastille. He was examined, and main- 
 tained with firmness all that he had said. Many pro- 
 mises and threats were used to induce him to retract. 
 All kinds of expedients were suggested to him, as, for 
 instance, madness or a passion for the Lecouvreur, which 
 had prompted him to invent this fable, in order to 
 please her. Nothing, however, could move him ; he 
 never varied in his answers, and was kept in prison. 
 
 "The Lecouvreur wrote to the abbe's father, who lived 
 in the country and was unaware of his son's misfortune. 
 The poor man came at once to Paris, and demanded that 
 his son should either be formally brought to trial or 
 set at liberty. He addressed himself to the cardinal, 
 who inquired of Madame de Bouillon whether she 
 wished the affair to be tried, as otherwise the abbe could 
 not be kept in prison. Madame de Bouillon, dreading 
 publicity and unable to get the abbe assassinated in the 
 Bastille, consented to his liberation. During the two 
 months that the father remained in Paris nothing 
 happened to the son. But when the father had returned 
 to the country, the abb, having had the imprudence 
 to stay in Paris, suddenly disappeared. No one knows 
 whether he is dead or not, but nothing is heard of him." 
 
 Incredible as this story may appear, it, nevertheless, 
 accords in all important details with the documents 
 which M. Monval has extracted from the Archives of 
 the Bastille, preserved in the Bibliotheque de 1' Arsenal. 
 
 1 Lettres de Mademoiselle d' A'isse a Madame Calandrini (edit. 1846), 
 p. 230 et seq.
 
 1 84 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 The interview at the Tuileries, the conversation with the 
 Duchesse de Bouillon, the suspicious lozenges all that is 
 true. The Abbe Bouret, imprisoned at Saint-Lazare, 
 confirmed it in a series of examinations to which he was 
 subjected. 1 
 
 Bouret had been arrested on July 29, 1729, and he 
 was kept in prison for three months. During his con- 
 finement Adrienne wrote to him, entreating him to 
 withdraw his charge against the Duchesse de Bouillon, 
 if it were untrue, and promising, in that event, to obtain 
 his pardon. She also sent him money, clothes, and 
 books, and did all she could to lighten his imprisonment. 
 
 Thanks to the efforts of his father, who, though ill, 
 had hastened to Paris so soon as he was informed of his 
 son's arrest, Bouret was released on October 23, when 
 Adrienne advised him to leave Paris at once, pointing out 
 that the affair had now become common knowledge, and 
 that, if he lingered, the Bouillon family would certainly 
 cause him to be rearrested. 
 
 Well would it have been for Bouret had he followed 
 the actress's advice ; but, unfortunately, his father's 
 illness took so serious a turn that it was impossible for 
 
 1 The points in which Mile. A'isse's story and Bouret' s evidence 
 differ are as follows : 
 
 ( I ) Bouret was acquainted with the Duchesse de Bouillon prior to 
 his adventure, having been employed by her to paint her portrait. (2) 
 He had not one, but several interviews with her two emissaries, who, he 
 stated, wore masks. (3) He received the suspicious lozenges after, 
 and not before, warning Adrienne. (4) It was not the Lieutenant of 
 Police, Herault, but the Chemist Geoffrey, of the Academic des Sciences, 
 who made the experiment on the dog. He reported that some of the 
 lozenges appeared suspicious, but that their number was insufficient to 
 permit of his conducting experiments and forming a definite opinion. 
 This, as M. Larroumet remarks, is the language of a man who is un- 
 willing to compromise himself.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 185 
 
 him to undertake the journey to Lorraine, and the abbe 
 remained to nurse him. Meanwhile, the scandal had 
 assumed such dimensions that the Due de Bouillon 
 obtained a new lettre de cachet^ by virtue of which, on 
 January 23, 1730, Bouret was again arrested and con- 
 veyed first to For 1'Ev^que and afterwards back to Saint- 
 Lazare, on a charge of " poisoning or giving false infor- 
 mation to the celebrated actress Lecouvreur." 
 
 The public interest in the affair had, not improbably, 
 been stimulated by a singular incident which had occurred 
 at the Comedie-Fran9aise during the previous autumn. 
 On October 18, Adrienne was playing the part of 
 Phedre, when, perceiving the Duchesse de Bouillon 
 complacently watching her performance from one of 
 the boxes on the first tier^her feelings overcame her, and, 
 turning in the direction of her enemy, she repeated with 
 unmistakable emphasis the indignant lines : 
 
 " Je sais mes perfidies, 
 
 CEnone, et ne suis pas de ces femmes hardies 
 Qui, go&tant dans les crimes une tranquille paix, 
 Ont su se faire un front qui ne rougit jamais." 
 
 The pit, whose sympathies were entirely on the side 
 of the actress, burst into loud applause, amidst which 
 the duchess angrily quitted the theatre. * 
 
 Adrienne did not play again until the evening of 
 November 10, owing to ill-health, when she again 
 appeared as Phedre. The accounts of the. Com^die- 
 Francaise show that, on the following day, a sum of I 
 livre, 10 sols was paid for a coach "to go to the Hotel 
 de Bouillon, on the matter of the footmen," and similar 
 
 1 Scribe and Lcgouve make this incident one of the principal scenes 
 of their tragedy.
 
 1 86 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 entries occur on the 2Oth and 3Oth of the same month. 
 From this M. Monval supposes that the duchess, in 
 order to avenge the affront she had received, had sent 
 her lackeys to create a disturbance and hiss Adrienne. 1 
 
 Early in the following March, Bouret was removed 
 to the Bastille, where he persistently adhered to the 
 statements he had made before Herault and at Saint- 
 La zare ; and on May 18, Pere de Couvrigny, the Jesuit 
 confessor attached to the prison, wrote to the Lieutenant 
 of Police the following significant note : 
 
 " I have visited and had a long conversation with the 
 young abbe brought from Saint-Lazare, and have made 
 strong representations to him on the baseness of the 
 calumny of which he has been guilty. He appears very 
 firm in maintaining that he has done no wrong to others, 
 but that he cannot wrong himself. The matter is very 
 terrible and serious" 
 
 Terrible and serious it most certainly was, for 
 Adrienne had died two months before, after a very 
 short illness ; and the firmness with which Bouret con- 
 tinued to adhere to his accusation against the Duchesse 
 de Bouillon gave the affair a still more sinister com- 
 plexion. On July 8, he wrote to Herault : 
 
 " Permit me to cast myself at your feet to implore 
 your protection. I believe that you will not refuse it to 
 me, inasmuch as you are the protector of the innocent. 
 Alas ! cast a pitying glance on my misfortunes. It 
 is a sad spectacle for you ; you will see nothing but 
 tears, groans, and fears ; in a word, all that an agitated 
 mind can exhibit. That is the sad state to which I 
 
 1 Lettres d^ Adrienne Lecouvreur, p. 5 1 .
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 187 
 
 have been reduced for a whole year. The fury of my 
 enemies ought to be satisfied. You are my only hope ; 
 in you I have placed my trust ; decide upon my fate, 
 Monseigneur ; I will subscribe to everything that I am 
 able to ; but, as for my departing from what I have de- 
 posed to, were death with all its terrors to appear before 
 my eyes, I would prefer it to calumniating myself." 
 
 But, six weeks later, Bouret completely alters his 
 tone, and on August 24 writes again to Herault : 
 
 " As you have done me the honour to order me to 
 speak the truth touching the Duchesse de Bouillon, I 
 obey your commands. Here it is. The desire that I 
 had to become acquainted with the Lecouvreur induced 
 me to invent a pretext for gaining admission to her 
 house. ... I declare to you that the duchess is 
 innocent of everything of which I have accused her. 
 Pardon a wretched man, whose only crimes are a 
 fevered brain and much imprudence." 1 
 
 After this recantation, the unfortunate youth re- 
 mained a prisoner for nine months longer, when he 
 was finally set at liberty (June 3, 1731). From that 
 date nothing more is heard of him, though there is 
 no reason to assume, with Mile. A'fsse, that he was 
 the victim of foul play. He probably lost not a 
 moment in returning to Lorraine, heartily glad to turn 
 his back upon the city in which he had suffered so much. 
 
 That Adrienne Lecouvreur had been the object of an 
 attempt at poisoning on the part of Madame de Bouillon 
 admits, we think, of very little doubt. Barely half a 
 century had passed since the famous Poison Trials, in 
 
 1 Cited M. Georges Monval, Lettres d' Adrienne Lecouvreur^ p. 57.
 
 1 88 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 which many a high-born dame, including, by the way, 
 another Duchesse de Bouillon, 1 had been compromised. 
 What had occurred with terrible frequency in 1680 
 was not impossible in 1730; nor does the passionate, 
 vindictive, and unscrupulous character of the duchess 
 render her culpability any the less probable. Again, 
 although Bouret ultimately withdrew his accusation, 
 he persisted in it for many months after his second 
 arrest, in spite of the prospect that a recantation would 
 ensure his release. Thirdly, the official investigation 
 of the affair was very incomplete, and the authorities 
 appear to have had no other object in view than to 
 obtain Bouret's recantation and hush the matter up. 
 Finally, if the duchess were innocent, why, we may 
 well ask, did she not take steps to clear her reputation 
 by prosecuting her accuser before the courts ? .Why did 
 she prefer to remain under the shadow of so hideous a 
 suspicion to the end of her life ? 
 
 But even if the charge against Madame de Bouillon 
 is to be considered proved, it seems to us in the highest 
 degree improbable that the attempt against Adrienne 
 was renewed, and that the actress fell a victim to it, 
 as so many persons asserted at the time, and as some 
 writers, including M. Monval, still believe. Let us, 
 however, listen to Mile. A'fsse's version of the circum- 
 stances connected with Adrienne's death : 
 
 " Since then (Bouret's denunciation of the duchess), 
 the Lecouvreur has been on her guard. One day, at the 
 theatre, after the principal piece, Madame de Bouillon 
 sent to ask her to come to her box. The Lecouvreur 
 was extremely surprised, and answered that her toilette 
 
 1 Marie Anne Mancini, Racine's enemy.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 189 
 
 was not finished, and it was impossible for her to present 
 herself. The duchess sent a second time, and was told, 
 in reply to her invitation, that the Lecouvreur was about 
 to appear on the stage, but that she would obey her 
 commands when she quitted it. Madame de Bouillon 
 begged her not to fail her, and, as she was making her 
 exit, met her, bestowed upon her all sorts of caresses, 
 complimented her highly on her acting, and assured her 
 that to see her give so finished a rendering of the part 
 which she had just played had afforded her infinite 
 pleasure. Some time afterwards, the Lecouvreur became 
 so ill in the middle of a piece that she was unable to 
 finish it. When the " orator " came forward to make 
 the announcement, the whole pit eagerly demanded 
 news of her condition. Since that day, her health 
 declined and she grew thin and feeble. On the last 
 occasion on which she performed, she took the part of 
 Jocaste in the CEdipe of Voltaire. The role is a some- 
 what trying one. Before the play began, she was seized 
 with a violent attack of dysentery. ... It was pitiful to 
 see her exhaustion and weakness. Although I was in 
 ignorance of her indisposition, I remarked two or three 
 times to Madame de Parabere 1 that I felt very distressed 
 on her account. Between the two pieces we were in- 
 formed of the nature of her illness, and were astonished 
 when she reappeared in the afterpiece, Le Florentin, and 
 undertook a very long and difficult part, 2 which, however, 
 
 1 Marie Magdeleine de la Vieuville, Comtesse de Parabere (1693- 
 1750). On her husband's death, in 1716, she became maitresse en tiire 
 of the Regent d'Orleans, which exalted position she occupied for five 
 years, when the prince, wearying of her caprices, replaced her by 
 Madame Ferrand d'Averne. 
 
 2 That of Hortense. According to Titon du Tillet, Adrienne had 
 never been surpassed in this character.
 
 1 90 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 she played to perfection, and, to all appearance, as if it 
 gave her pleasure. The audience showed that they 
 greatly appreciated her decision to continue playing, 
 and it was no longer said, as it had been previously, 
 that she was suffering from the effects of poison. The 
 poor creature returned home, and, four days later, at one 
 o'clock in the afternoon, when she was believed to be out 
 of danger, she died. She had convulsions, which never 
 happens in cases of dysentery, 1 and went out like a 
 candle. The body was opened, and the bowels were 
 found to be ulcerated. ... If the suspected lady had 
 appeared at the theatre under these circumstances, she 
 would have been driven from the house. She had the 
 effrontery to send every day to the Lecouvreur's house 
 to inquire as to her condition." 
 
 If, as Sainte-Beuve and M. Larroumet point out, 
 the Duchesse de Bouillon had really intended to poison 
 Adrienne, the moment chosen for her attempt was 
 singularly inopportune. Suspected by the public of a 
 previous attempt upon the actress's life, with Bouret 
 still in prison and an investigation of the affair hanging 
 over her head, the most ordinary prudence must have 
 dictated to her, if determined on the crime, the ad- 
 visability of deferring her horrible design at least until 
 she had cleared herself from the charge under which she 
 then lay. The daily inquiries she caused to be made 
 during Adrienne's illness, of which Mile. A'fsse speaks 
 with such indignation, were no doubt actuated by a sincere 
 desire for the actress's recovery ; not, of course, for the 
 poor woman's own sake, but because she foresaw that her 
 
 1 This is not the case. 
 
 2 Lettres de Mademoiselle d' Aisse a Madame Calandrini, p. 234 ft seq.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 191 
 
 death at such a time would render her own position even 
 more unpleasant than it already was. 
 
 But there is a far stronger argument in the duchess's 
 favour than the one which we have just stated. Adrienne's 
 correspondence, published by M. Monval, shows that for 
 some years past she had been in very delicate health. 
 " I have not had twelve hours' health since I last saw 
 you," she writes to d'Argental, during the latter's visit 
 to England ; while in other letters she complains of being 
 always " insupportably fatigued," and of being " in de- 
 spair in regard to her health." Moreover and this is 
 a point of the greatest importance she was subject to a 
 chronic affection of the intestines, and, in the winter of 
 1725-1726, had had an attack of dysentery, which all but 
 proved fatal; the very malady of which she eventually died 
 
 It would therefore appear that, however strongly 
 facts may point to Madame de Bouillon's guilt in re- 
 gard to the charge brought against her by Bouret, it 
 would be manifestly unjust to saddle her with any re- 
 sponsibility for Adrienne's death. Everything, indeed, 
 seems to indicate natural causes ; nothing confirms the 
 theory of poison. 
 
 Adrienne was taken ill on Tuesday, March 14, and 
 she died on the following Monday, the 2Oth inst. 
 Maurice de Saxe, Voltaire, and a surgeon named Faget 
 were with her when the end came ; and the faithful 
 d'Argental, who had been hurriedly summoned, reached 
 the house a few minutes after she had breathed her last. 
 Neither of her three friends, however, though each pos- 
 sessed influence in his way, was able to save the remains 
 of the celebrated actress from the worst indignity ever 
 offered to those of a member of the theatrical profession 
 in France.
 
 1 92 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Adrienne's house was situated in the parish of Saint- 
 Sulpice, the cure of which, Languet de Gergy, was one 
 of the most bigoted and obstinate priests in Paris. When 
 the end was seen to be near, he was sent for to receive 
 the usual renunciation and administer the last Sacraments, 
 but accounts differ as to what occurred. Some writers 
 declare that when he arrived the actress was already dead, 
 or at least on the point of death ; others that she firmly 
 refused to renounce her profession, and, on the cure con- 
 tinuing to exhort her to repentance, pointed with out- 
 stretched hand to a bust of Maurice de Saxe which stood 
 near her bed, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Voilh mon univers, man espoir, et mes dieux / " 
 
 What is certain, is that Adrienne died without the 
 Sacraments, and that Languet de Gergy refused her not 
 only Christian burial (this, as we have seen, had been the 
 invariable practice of the Paris clergy in regard to members 
 of her profession who had died under similar circum- 
 stances, ever since the time of Moliere), but interment in 
 the cemetery at all, even in that portion of it which was 
 reserved for heretics and unbaptized children a refusal 
 absolutely without precedent in the history of the theatre. 
 
 In the morning of March 21, an autopsy was per- 
 formed on the body of the deceased actress (according to 
 Voltaire, on his application), when the doctors decided 
 that Adrienne had died a natural death, an opinion to 
 which the poet himself subscribes. 1 Later in the day, 
 Maurepas, in his capacity of Minister for Paris, wrote 
 
 1 Voltaire wrote and signed the following note : " She died in my 
 arms of an inflammation of the intestines, and it was I who caused an 
 autopsy to be performed. All that Mile. A'isse says on the subject are 
 only popular rumours which have no foundation." Cited by M. 
 Monval.
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 193 
 
 to the Lieutenant of Police, informing him that it was 
 the intention of Cardinal de Fleury not to interfere in 
 the matter of ecclesiastical burial, but to leave it entirely 
 to the discretion of the Archbishop of Paris and the cur6 
 of Saint-Sulpice. " If," he added, " they persist in refus- 
 ing it to her, as they appear inclined to do, she must be 
 taken away to-night and interred with as little scandal as 
 possible." 1 
 
 At midnight, accordingly, the mortal remains of poor 
 Adrienne were placed in a hackney-coach, and, preceded 
 by two street porters bearing torches, and escorted by a 
 squad of the watch and a M. de Laubiniere whom 
 Sainte-Beuve supposes to have been a friend of the actress, 
 but who, M. Monval thinks, was a representative of the 
 Lieutenant of Police conveyed to a piece of waste land 
 near the Seine, and there buried, quicklime being thrown 
 over the body, and no stone or mark of any kind being 
 placed to indicate where it lay. 2 
 
 The refusal of admission to the unconsecrated portion 
 of the cemetery a circumstance, as we have already 
 observed, absolutely without precedent 3 the secret re- 
 moval, the presence of the representatives of the Lieu- 
 
 1 Sainte-Beuve, Cauteries du Lundi, i. 174. This letter formed 
 part of the last dossier. 
 
 2 The spot where Adrienne was buried was discovered, m 1786, by 
 d'Argental. It was at the south-east angle of the Rues de Crenelle and 
 de Bourgogne, on ground now occupied by No. 1 1 5 in the former street. 
 The old man erected a marble tablet, inscribed with some rather indifferent 
 verses of his own composition, to the memory of the actress on an adjoining 
 wall. " This tablet," says M. Monval, " is still preserved by Madame 
 Jouvencel, the present (1892) owner of No. 115 Rue de Crenelle." 
 
 3 Two years before Adrienne's old teacher, Le Grand, had died, also 
 without renouncing his profession. He was, of course, denied Christian 
 burial, but no objection was raised by the cure of Saint-Sulpice to his 
 interment in the unconsecrated portion of the cemetery. 
 
 N
 
 194 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 tenant of Police at the interment, the precautions taken 
 to destroy the corpse by quicklime and to conceal the 
 grave, all point to an intention on the part of the autho- 
 rities to render a second autopsy impossible. But the 
 most scandalous part of the whole affair is the conduct 
 of Languet de Gergy and his superior, the Archbishop of 
 Paris, in lending themselves to a deliberate attempt to 
 defeat the ends of justice in the interests of Madame de 
 Bouillon and her powerful friends. 
 
 A question which has naturally given rise to a good 
 deal of conjecture is the conduct of Maurice de Saxe on 
 this occasion. Egotist and libertine though he was, he 
 was a sincere friend and capable of generous impulses ; 
 moreover, even at this period, he possessed no little 
 influence at Court, where he was feared even more than 
 he was respected. Such being the case, it seems almost 
 inconceivable that he should, so far as is known, have 
 made not the slightest effort to save the remains of the 
 woman who had loved him so long and so tenderly from 
 so gross an indignity. In our opinion, the most probable, 
 as well as the most charitable, explanation of the matter 
 is, that Maurice was taken completely by surprise ; that 
 the arrangements of the police were carried out with such 
 secrecy and despatch that no inkling of their intentions 
 was permitted to reach him until it was too late for him 
 to intervene. 
 
 Another of Adrienne's friends, though, like Maurice, 
 powerless to prevent the barbarous treatment to which 
 she had been subjected, protested against it with all the 
 strength of his generous nature. On the morrow of 
 her burial, Voltaire addressed to Falkener a letter in 
 verse, in which he recalled the honours recently paid to 
 two English actresses, and drew an eloquent comparison
 
 ADRIENNE LECOUVREUR 195 
 
 between their pompous obsequies and those of poor 
 Adrienne, who had been denied even the privilege of 
 " two tapers and a coffin.'* But the justly indignant 
 poet went much further than this. On the same day, 
 a meeting of the members of the Comedie-Fransaise 
 was held at the theatre. Voltaire attended, and, in an 
 eloquent speech, called upon the actors to refuse to 
 exercise their profession " until they had secured for the 
 pensioners of the King the rights which were accorded to 
 those who had not the honour of serving his Majesty." 
 His hearers promised to follow his advice, but they did 
 nothing in the matter. The age of strikes had not 
 yet arrived, and they preferred opprobrium with a little 
 money to honour and an empty treasury. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, Voltaire composed his fine poem 
 on the death of Adrienne, in which he gave full vent 
 to the feelings of indignation and contempt which 
 consumed him : 
 
 " Que direz-vous, race future, 
 Lorsque vous apprendrez, la fletrissante injure 
 Qu'& ces arts desols font des hommes cruel ! 
 
 Us privent de la sepulture 
 Celle qui dans la Grece aurait eu des autels. 
 Quand elle 6tait au monde, ils soupiraient pour elle ; 
 Je les ai vu soumis, autour d'elle empresses : 
 Sitot qu'elle n'est plus, elle est done criminelle ! 
 Eli- a charm6 le monde et vous Ten punissez ! " 
 
 The annual closing of the theatre took place on 
 March 24, when Grandval, as the youngest socihaire, 
 pronounced, according to custom, before the assembled 
 company, an ttoge upon their deceased colleague. This 
 ttoge had been written by Voltaire himself, and with it 
 we may appropriately conclude our sketch of this cele-
 
 196 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 brated actress, who was not only a great artist, but a 
 noble, high-souled, and cultured woman, who had all the 
 feminine virtues, save one, for the lack of which, when 
 we pause to consider the temptations of her profession, 
 the moral standard of the age in which she lived, and 
 the generosity and devotion she displayed towards those 
 who had won her heart, we shall find it difficult not 
 to pardon her : 
 
 " I feel, Messieurs, that your regrets recall that 
 inimitable actress, who might almost be said to have 
 invented the art of speaking to the heart and of pre- 
 senting sentiment and truth where once had been shown 
 little but artificiality and declamation. 
 
 " Mile. Lecouvreur permit us the consolation of 
 naming her made one feel in every character which 
 she impersonated all the delicacy, all the soul, all the 
 decorum that one could desire : she was worthy to speak 
 before you, Messieurs. Among those who deign to 
 listen to me are several who honoured her by their 
 friendship ; they are aware that she was the ornament 
 of society, as well as of the theatre ; while those who 
 knew her only as the actress can readily judge, from 
 the degree of perfection to which she had attained, that 
 not only had she an abundance of wit, but that she 
 further possessed the art of rendering wit amiable. 
 
 " You are too just, Messieurs, not to regard this 
 tribute of praise as a duty : I dare even to say that, in 
 regretting her, I am merely your interpreter.'* 
 
 1 Lettres d* Adricnnc Lecouvrtur, by M. Georges Monval, p. 67.
 
 IV 
 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO
 
 IV 
 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO 
 
 THE Abbe d'Allainval, in his Lettre a Mylord . . . sur 
 Baron et la demoiselle Lecouvreur, reminds his mythical 
 correspondent that he had found in Paris four wonders : 
 (i) The Tuileries. (2) The acting of the demoiselle 
 Lecouvreur. (3) The dancing of the demoiselle Camargo. 
 (4) The voice of the demoiselle Lemaure. It is of 
 the third of these wonders that we are now about to 
 speak. 
 
 Marie-Anne de Cupis de Camargo, the most cele- 
 brated danseuse of her time, whose talents have been 
 exalted by the chroniclers, sung by the poets, celebrated 
 in every way in both prose and verse, and immortalised 
 by Voltaire, was born at Brussels on April 10, 1710. 
 On her father's side, she was descended from " one of 
 the noblest families in Rome," which had given to the 
 Church a cardinal, an archbishop, and various minor 
 dignitaries. Through her grandmother, she was related 
 to the Spanish house of Camargo, and it was under this 
 name that she pirouetted into fame. 
 
 The means of Marie-Anne's father, Ferdinand Joseph 
 de Cupis, " seigneur de Renoussart," were, unfortunately, 
 very far from equal to his birth and connections ; nor 
 was his position rendered any easier by the fact that 
 he had been imprudent enough to espouse a lady as 
 high-born and as poor as himself, who, in default of 
 
 199
 
 200 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 a dot, had presented him with seven pledges of her 
 affection. He lived at Brussels, " on the crumbs which 
 fell from the table of the Prince de Ligne," and the fees 
 he received from giving music and dancing lessons, and 
 gallantly endeavoured to bring his children up in a manner 
 befitting those of a gentleman " who could prove sixteen 
 quarterings on both his father and mother's side." 
 
 Such a treasure as Marie-Anne promised to become, 
 however, was worthy of any sacrifice. " Hercules in his 
 cradle," says Castil-Blaze, " strangled the serpents who 
 came to devour him. The talent of Mile, de Camargo 
 was not less precocious. While she was in the arms of 
 her nurse, the sound of a violin reached her ears, and 
 inspired her to gestures and movements so animated, so 
 gay, so perfectly harmonious that it was at once per- 
 ceived that this virtuoso of six months would one day 
 be one of the first danseuses in Europe." l The delighted 
 M. de Cupis thenceforth devoted every moment he could 
 spare to the instruction of his little daughter, and at the 
 age of ten Marie-Anne danced so charmingly in the 
 salons of Brussels, that every one vowed that it would be 
 nothing less than a crime to withhold from her the 
 applause of the public. Accordingly, the noble dancing- 
 master's consent having been obtained, the Princesse de 
 Ligne and some other ladies of the Court clubbed to- 
 gether, and sent her at their own expense to Paris, to 
 take lessons from Mile. Prevost, then the queen of the 
 Opera. 
 
 After remaining in Paris for some months, and 
 learning all that Mile. Prevost could teach her, the little 
 girl returned to Brussels, and made her d&but at the 
 theatre with such astonishing success that, in spite of her 
 
 1 La Dame et des Ballets , p. 190.
 
 MADEMOISELLE PREVOST 
 From the painting by JEAN RAOUX, in the Muse of Tours
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO 201 
 
 youth, she was appointed premiere danseuse. This posi- 
 tion she held for three years, when Pelissier, director of 
 the Rouen theatre, offered her an engagement. Marie- 
 Anne wished to accept the offer ; Rouen, ever since the 
 days of Moliere, had been regarded as the conservatoire 
 of the Paris theatres ; its playgoers were not only the 
 most enthusiastic, but the most critical in France, and 
 the actor, singer, or danseuse who was fortunate enough 
 to secure their suffrages might reckon with certainty on 
 a favourable reception in the capital. M. de Cupis, 
 however, demurred ; he did not wish to allow his daugh- 
 ter to go alone to Rouen, neither did he see his way to 
 leave his pupils at Brussels ; and it was not until Pelissier 
 offered him the post of ballet-master, and his eldest son, 
 Fran9oise, a place in the orchestra that he gave his con- 
 sent, and the whole Cupis family set out for Normandy. 
 
 Poor M. de Cupis would not have been so ready to 
 turn his back on Brussels had he been aware that Pelissier 
 was hovering on the verge of bankruptcy, and that his 
 engagement of Marie-Anne was merely intended to stave 
 off the evil day a little longer. For a time, however, all 
 went well ; Marie-Anne's dancing delighted the critical 
 Rouennais, even more than it had the indulgent Flemings, 
 and the theatre was crowded every night with applauding 
 spectators. But her triumphs came too late to save 
 Pelissier; and one fine spring morning, in 1726, that 
 gentleman failed, and danseuse, ballet-master, and musi- 
 cian found themselves out of employment. 
 
 Matters looked serious indeed for the seigneur de 
 Renoussart and his seven children ; but, happily, at that 
 moment Fortune knocked at their door, in the shape of 
 Francine, who was about to become Director of the Paris 
 Opera. The fame of the little prodigy had, it appeared,
 
 202 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 reached the capital, and Francine had journeyed to Rouen 
 to offer her a debut at the Academic Royale de Musique. 
 
 The offer, as may be supposed, was joyfully accepted, 
 and Marie-Anne, with her family in her train, migrated 
 to Paris. Here she decided to abandon her patronymic, 
 in favour of that of her grandmother, which had a more 
 artistic sound; and on May 5, 1726, made her debut 
 under the name of Mile, de Camargo. 
 
 Mile. Prevost, already jealous of her former pupil, 
 perhaps from a presentiment, had treacherously advised 
 her to make her debut in a ballet called Les Caracteres de 
 la danse, in a step so difficult that none but the most 
 celebrated dancers ever dared to attempt it. But, to her 
 intense mortification, Mile, de Camargo not only per- 
 formed every movement correctly, but with a brilliancy, 
 a verve, a vivacity which far surpassed all her predecessors. 
 " Never," says a contemporary writer, " had the audito- 
 rium resounded with such applause as that which greeted 
 the debutante. Such was the enthusiasm of the public 
 that nothing else was talked about but the young 
 Camargo." All the new fashions were named after her : 
 coiffures a la Camargo, gowns a la Camargo, sleeves h la 
 Camargo, shoes a la Camargo}- On the second night on 
 which she appeared, there were twenty duels and quarrels 
 without number at the doors of the Opera; all Paris 
 was determined to get in, even at the sword-point. 
 
 Mile, de Camargo was not beautiful ; indeed some of 
 her contemporaries go so far as to assert that she was 
 positively ugly : " a real monster, like her predecessor 
 Mile. Prevost," says one ungallant critic ; while Noverre 
 
 1 Her shoemaker, one Choisy by name, found himself on a sudden 
 overwhelmed with customers. All the ladies of the Court and the town 
 wanted to be shod by the man who made such divine little shoes.
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO 203 
 
 declares that " Nature had denied her every imaginable 
 grace," and that she was " neither tall, nor pretty, nor 
 well-formed." But whatever may have been her defects 
 of face or figure, they did not interfere with her profes- 
 sional success. " The moment she began to dance people 
 forgot her face. Besides, no one had time to see whether 
 she was ugly or beautiful, so light and rapid were her 
 movements. Her skips and twirls bewildered the 
 audience. Then her countenance was changed, trans- 
 figured. ' Then her black eyes were full of smiles and 
 provocations, while her laughing lips revealed her ivory 
 teeth.' She did not seem to dance for the public, but 
 for herself, for her own pleasure. Never had one ima- 
 gined so many seductions, so many caprices, so much 
 gaiety. ' It would be vain,' says Cahusac, ' to seek a 
 playfulness more frank, a vivacity more natural.' " * 
 
 Not the least important factor in the success of the 
 young danseuse seems to have been the fashion of her 
 skirt, which she had curtailed to a point which the most 
 daring of her predecessors had never even dreamed of. 
 This innovation was extremely popular with the younger 
 patrons of the Opera, but, on the other hand, alarmed 
 the modesty of many of the more conservative playgoers. 
 
 " Camargo," says Grimm, " was the first who ven- 
 tured to abbreviate her skirts. This useful invention, 
 which gave amateurs an opportunity of passing judg- 
 ment upon the nether limbs of a danseuse, has since 
 been generally adopted, though, at the time, it promised 
 to occasion a very dangerous schism. The Jansenists in 
 the pit cried out heresy and scandal, and refused to 
 tolerate the shortened skirts. The Molinists, on the con- 
 trary, maintained that this innovation brought us nearer 
 
 1 Gaboriau, Les Comediennes adorees, p. 128.
 
 204 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 to the spirit of the primitive Church, which objected to 
 seeing pirouettes and gargouillades hampered by the 
 length of the petticoats. The Sorbonne of the Opera 
 held a great many sittings before it could decide which 
 of the contending parties adhered to the orthodox doc- 
 trine. Finally, it pronounced in favour of the shortened 
 skirts, but declared, at the same time, as an article of 
 faith, that no danseuse should appear on the stage sans 
 calefon. This decision has since become a fundamental 
 article of discipline, by the general consent of all the 
 ruling powers of the Opera and of all the faithful who 
 frequent these holy places." * 
 
 The regulation respecting the wearing of a calefon 
 seems to have been the result of a disaster which befell a 
 young ballerina named Mariette, who had the misfortune 
 to have her habiliments torn away by a piece of projecting 
 framework, " et posa pour f ensemble devant toute la salle^ 
 pendant une bonne minute au mains." There was consider- 
 able difference of opinion, Grimm tells us, as to whether 
 Mile, de Camargo conformed to this order, which would 
 have interfered with her freedom of movement, and bets 
 were freely made on the subject. But when, in order to 
 decide these wagers, some one ventured to question the 
 danseuse^ the lady replied, "with a beautiful blush and 
 her eyes modestly lowered," that without such a " pre- 
 caution " she would never have ventured to appear in 
 public. Henceforth at the Opera the calefon was known 
 by the name of " precaution." 
 
 In the meanwhile the triumphs of Mile, de Camargo 
 had begun to seriously alarm Mile. Prevost, who not 
 only saw her professional pre-eminence threatened by her 
 former pupil, but had reason to fear that the dancing- 
 
 1 Corrcspondance litteraire, vi. 42.
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO 205 
 
 master, Blondi, hitherto her slave, regarded the young 
 debutante with a rather more than friendly interest. 
 Perceiving that to attempt to eclipse her on the stage 
 would only be to court certain defeat, she had recourse 
 to intrigue. She refused to continue the lessons by 
 which, she considered, the girl had already too greatly 
 profited ; she relegated her to small and obscure parts, in 
 which she had no opportunity of displaying her talents, 
 and even declined to allow her to appear in a dance in 
 which the Duchesse de Berri had expressed a desire to 
 see the young danseuse. Finally, she succeeded in 
 banishing her to the back row of the chorus. 
 
 With so powerful and unscrupulous an enemy to 
 contend against, poor Camargo might have remained 
 "lost in the vulgar crowd of filles a" Opera" for the rest 
 of her days, had not a fortunate accident enabled her to 
 assert her superiority again, and this time in a manner 
 which it was impossible for the ruling powers of the 
 Opera to ignore. 
 
 One evening she had to appear amid a group of 
 demons, on whose entrance the dancer Dumoulin was to 
 execute upas de seul. The demons trooped in, and the 
 orchestra struck up the opening bars of Dumoulin's 
 solo ; but the dancer, for some reason, did not appear. 
 Mile, de Camargo saved the situation. Leaving the 
 other figurantes, she sprang to the middle of the stage, 
 improvised the step of the absent Dumoulin, and danced 
 so magnificently as to send all the spectators into trans- 
 ports of enthusiasm. Mile. Prevost, beside herself with 
 passion, vowed that she would ruin her youthful rival, 
 but it was too late ; " Terpsichore was dethroned, and 
 Mile, de Camargo crowned queen of the Opera." 
 
 "Yesterday," writes Adrienne Lecouvreur to one of
 
 206 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 her friends, " they played Roland (an opera by Quinault 
 and Lulli). Mile. PreVost, although she surpassed her- 
 self, obtained very meagre applause in comparison with 
 a new danseuse named Camargo, whom the public 
 idolise, and whose great merit is youth and vigour. I 
 doubt whether you have seen her. Mile. Prevost pro- 
 tected her at first, but Blondi has fallen in love with her, 
 and she is consequently annoyed. She appeared jealous 
 and discontented at the applause of the public, which 
 has now reached such a pitch of enthusiasm that the 
 PreVost will be foolish if she does not make up her mind 
 to retire." 
 
 Mile. Prevost did, in fact, retire shortly after this 
 letter was written, and Mile, de Camargo, left mistress 
 of the field, used her victory to such good purpose that 
 in two years' time she had completely revolutionised the 
 ballet. No longer did the spectators sit bored or indif- 
 ferent through the languishing attitudes and mechanical 
 gestures which composed the old ballet that solemn 
 ceremony in which le Grand Monarque and the lords 
 and ladies of his Court had occasionally deigned to 
 take part. " With disdainful foot she thrust into the 
 abyss of oblivion minuet, saraband, and courant, and 
 replaced by rapidity, agility, and lightness all the antics 
 that had been admired before her time, but which 
 appeared no longer endurable once one had seen her." 1 
 Yet she owed much to her teachers to Mile. Prevost, 
 to Blondi, and to Dupre and the style of dancing 
 which she now brought into fashion seems to have been 
 a combination of all that was best in their different 
 methods, joined to a vivacity and piquancy entirely her 
 own. She excelled in gavottes, rigaudons, and in all of 
 
 1 Gaboriau, Let Comediennes adorees, p. 151.
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO 207 
 
 what wer^ known as the "grands airs" and also in the 
 graceful Basque dances, which she substituted for the 
 gargouillade, judging the latter to be unsuitable for 
 women. But her greatest triumph was a certain minuet 
 step which she executed along the edge of the footlights, 
 first from right to left, and then back again. "The 
 public awaited it with impatience, watched it with intense 
 interest, and applauded it rapturously." Many persons 
 would come to the Opera solely to witness this perform- 
 ance, and leave as soon as it was over. 
 
 The prestige of Mile, de Camargo was at this time 
 so great that the ovations she received were not confined 
 to the theatre. One evening, while walking in the 
 Tuileries Gardens, she was addressed by the wife of 
 Marechal de Villars, who engaged her !n conversation 
 " for a good quarter of an hour." Meanwhile, all 
 who happened to be promenading in the gardens 
 flocked to the spot, formed a circle round the two 
 ladies, and began to clap their hands, " as much to 
 testify their admiration for the danseuse, as to show 
 Madame de Villars how highly they approved of her 
 affability." 
 
 Like the famous Arlequin, Dominique, Mile, de 
 Camargo was very gay while on the stage and very 
 reserved and quiet the moment she had quitted it. 
 While dancing, one of her admirers declares, she 
 seemed " the very priestess of pleasure and of love." 
 But no sooner had she retired into the wings, than she 
 became "melancholy and even sad," while her countenance 
 was " expressive of the most profound ennui." To her 
 colleagues she seldom spoke, unless they happened to 
 address her, when she responded with dignified courtesy, 
 as became the collateral descendant of a cardinal, the
 
 2o8 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 niece of a Grand Inquisitor, 1 and the possessor of thirty- 
 two quarterings. However, as she was good-natured 
 and obliging, her comrades treated the queenly airs it 
 pleased her to assume with amused indulgence, and 
 she was not unpopular among them. 
 
 Although, as we have mentioned, the young danseuse 
 had no pretensions to beauty, she was nevertheless capable 
 of arousing granaes passions, and her adorers were many. 
 For two years, however, after her first appearance at the 
 Opera, the "frigid dignity" of her demeanour and the 
 unsleeping vigilance of the worthy M. de Cupis kept 
 them at a distance, until all, save one, perceiving that 
 their efforts were fruitless, had retired from the field. 
 The exception was Jean Alexandrc Theodose, Comte de 
 Melun, who loved the lady with a passion which no 
 rebuffs could extinguish, no difficulties subdue. His 
 persistence was rewarded ; Mile, de Camargo took pity 
 upon him, and granted him a rendezvous, which was 
 followed by others ; and, finally, one fine night, in the 
 month of May 1728, the amorous nobleman made off with 
 both her and her sister Sophie, aged thirteen, who also 
 danced at the Opera, and conveyed them to his hotel in 
 the Rue des Coutures Saint-Gervais. Sophie, it appeared, 
 had refused to be separated from her sister, and had 
 threatened to raise an alarm, if she were not eloped 
 with too. 
 
 This affair caused an immense sensation; poor M. de 
 Cupis was furious ; so odious an act of violence, he con- 
 
 1 " While Mile, de Camargo delighted the Parisians with her dancing, 
 her uncle, Don Juan, employed his time in causing Jews and sorcerers to 
 be burned. Don Juan de Camargo, Bishop of Pampeluna, succeeded Don 
 Diego d'Astorga y Cespedes on July 18, 1720, and was the thirty-fifth 
 Inquisitor-General in Spain." Castil-Blaze, LaDanse et les Ballets, p. 1 96.
 
 8 
 
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 W D 
 
 H - 
 
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 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO 209 
 
 sidered, justified an appeal for redress to the very highest 
 authority in the land, and, sitting down at his desk, he 
 forthwith indited to the Prime Minister, Cardinal de 
 Fleury, the following eloquent petition : 
 
 "To HIS EMINENCE, MONSEIGNEUR LE CARDINAL 
 DE FLEURY 
 
 " MONSEIGNEUR, Ferdinand Joseph de Cupis, alias 
 Camargo, ecuyer, seigneur de Renoussart, represents with 
 the deepest respect to Your Eminence, that, descended 
 from one of the noblest families of Rome, which has 
 given to the Roman Church an Archbishop of Trani, 
 a Bishop of Ostia, and a Cardinal with the title of Saint- 
 John ante Portam Latinam, doyen of the Sacred College, 
 in the year 1577, under the pontificate of Leo X., and 
 finding himself deprived of means, by the misfortunes, 
 the lawsuits, and the ravages of war which his fathers 
 had experienced, he avoided with more care than death 
 anything derogatory to his birth and his ancestors, in 
 whose nobility there has never been any change, not even 
 through alliances, the petitioner being in a position to 
 prove sixteen quarterings on both his father and mother's 
 side, since the family of Cupis quitted Rome. . . . 
 
 "Unable to maintain his rank, and burdened with 
 seven children, he has sighed, yet without murmuring, 
 against his lot. He has striven to develop the different 
 talents of his children, and to instruct them in those 
 liberal arts which might enable them, without derogating 
 from their birth, to supply the needs of life and escape 
 from want, while awaiting more prosperous days. One 
 he has had instructed in music, others in painting, and 
 others again in dancing. Among the last, there are two 
 girls, now aged eighteen and thirteen years respectively.
 
 210 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 " As the late King, of glorious memory, decreed that 
 any one might be connected with the Opera without loss 
 of dignity, the petitioner, having been persuaded and 
 even constrained by persons who had perceived the great 
 talents of the elder, could not refuse his consent to their 
 entering the Opera, although on condition that either he 
 or his wife should conduct them thither, and, in like 
 manner, resume charge of them at the conclusion of 
 each performance. In short, the elder, who has now 
 performed for three years, 1 has always behaved with per- 
 fect propriety, and this conduct has been as universally 
 admired as her dancing. 
 
 " But, for the last three years, M. le Comte de Melun 
 has had recourse to the arts of seduction and of methods 
 alike unworthy of himself and of the petitioner. . . . 
 He dared to propose to the petitioner that he should 
 be a consenting party to his daughter's dishonour, in 
 return for which he offered to surrender to him the 
 salary which she received at the Opera. The petitioner, 
 having treated such a proposition as it deserved, the 
 count found means to introduce himself, on several 
 nights, into his daughters' apartment, and, finally, on 
 the night of the loth to nth of the month of May, 
 he carried them both off, and, at this moment, retains 
 them at his hotel in Paris, Rue de la Couture Saint- 
 Gervais (sic). 
 
 " The petitioner, thus dishonoured no less than his 
 daughters, would have taken proceedings in the ordinary 
 way, if the ravisher had been a private individual ; and 
 the laws established by his Majesty and his august pre- 
 decessors provide that abduction should be punished 
 
 1 This is no doubt a slip of the pen. Mile, de Camargo had only 
 been two years on the Paris stage.
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO 211 
 
 with death. It is a double crime. Two sisters are 
 carried off, aged respectively eighteen and thirteen 
 years. 
 
 " But the petitioner, having to deal with a person of 
 the rank of the Comte de Melun, is obliged to have 
 recourse to the maker of the laws, and trusts that the 
 King in his bounty will see that he has justice, and will 
 command the Comte de Melun to espouse the elder 
 daughter of the petitioner and to furnish the younger 
 with a dowry. 
 
 "In no other way can he make reparation for so 
 terrible an outrage." l 
 
 The only effect the recital of the noble dancing- 
 master's wrongs produced on the Cardinal seems to have 
 been one of amusement ; and, though, a week later, 
 Mile. Sophie returned to her indignant father, the elder 
 sister, whom the rules of the Opera emancipated from 
 parental control, remained at the Comte de Melun's 
 hotel. That nobleman, however, did not long enjoy a 
 monopoly of the lady's favours, while her extravagance 
 annoyed as much as it astonished him. He therefore 
 secured to her an income of 1500 livres, and courteously 
 intimated that they must part. 
 
 The notorious Due de Richelieu, who regarded 
 himself as the principal cause of the ballerina's rupture 
 with Melun, and desired to make amends, took the 
 count's place ; to be, in his turn, succeeded by the 
 Marquis de Sourdis, for whom Mile, de Camargo is 
 said to have conceived " une belle passion" The mar- 
 quis's predilection for the ladies of the Opera had already 
 
 1 Revue retrospective, Seiie I. torn. i. (1833), p. 401. The original 
 letter was, at this time, in the possession of Beffara.
 
 212 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 made serious inroads on his patrimony ; but this did not 
 prevent him from lavishing the most costly presents upon 
 his inamorata. Before, however, he had succeeded in 
 quite ruining himself, he was confronted by a rival whose 
 pretensions it was impossible for him to oppose. 
 
 The rival in question was a Prince of the Blood, 
 Louis de Bourbon, Comte de Clermont, third son of 
 Louis III. of that name and Mile, de Nantes, legitimated 
 daughter of le Grand Monarque and Madame de Mon- 
 tespan. Born in 1709 and destined for the Church, or, 
 more strictly speaking, for the emoluments thereof, he 
 had been tonsured in infancy and loaded with benefices. 
 Before he had completed his eighth year, he found 
 himself in possession of the revenues of the rich abbey 
 of Bec-Hellouin, in Normandy, to which by the summer 
 of 1733, the date when he made Mile, de Camargo's 
 acquaintance, had been added some half-dozen others, 
 with an aggregate income of over 200,000 livres. 
 
 A curious figure was this descendant of the Great 
 Cond6 ; " moitti plumet, moitit rabat" monk by profession 
 and soldier by choice ; " owing two million livres in 
 Paris and changing his mistress every day " ; now 
 regulating the affairs of one of his abbeys, now scan- 
 dalising the devout by some liaison with Opera girl or 
 courtesan, anon distinguishing himself in battle ; witty, 
 affable, generous, brave, magnificent in his pleasures, and 
 a lover and patron of literature ; the only prince of his 
 house then living in whom could be traced a resemblance 
 to their illustrious ancestor. 
 
 Mile, de Camargo had by this time acquired the 
 reputation of being a somewhat expensive luxury, even 
 for a prince. Accordingly, before " taking her into his 
 service," the count-abbe desired to rid himself of two
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO 213 
 
 other ladies, both of whom had claims upon his attention 
 and his purse. One was the Duchesse de Bouillon, poor 
 Adrienne Lecouvreur's enemy ; the other, a siren of 
 humble birth, named Quoniam, with whom he had 
 carried on an intermittent liaison since he was sixteen. 
 On the principle that exchange is no robbery, it was 
 arranged that the duchess and the Marquis de Sourdis 
 should console each other ; while Clermont experienced 
 but little difficulty in persuading his nephew, the Prince 
 de Conti, a promising young gentleman of seventeen, 
 to take Mile. Quoniam off his hands. The latter 
 arrangement led to much unpleasantness in high circles, 
 for the Prince de Conti had two years before taken unto 
 himself a wife, in the person of Mile, de Chartres, 
 daughter of the late Regent and sister of the devout 
 Due d'Orleans. The duke and his mother, the dowager- 
 duchess, were furious, and it was rumoured that they 
 had obtained a lettre de cachet, in virtue of which Mile. 
 Quoniam had been spirited away to a convent. "This 
 news," writes Barbier in his Journal, " was general in the 
 fashionable world ; however, it is not true. On Sunday, 
 August 5, Mile. Quoniam went to the Opera and took 
 a seat in a box. So soon as the young men in the pit 
 caught sight of her, they clapped their hands to show 
 how delighted the public were to find that the rumour 
 was unfounded. In the evening, she went to the 
 Tuileries. All the princesses of the House of Cond 
 were there, which caused the people to form themselves 
 into two lines as they passed by. They did the same 
 for Mile. Quoniam, and congratulated her by their 
 gestures." 1 
 
 With the Comte de Clermont, Mile, de Camargo 
 
 1 Journal de Barbier, ii. 416.
 
 2i 4 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 reached the highest point of her fortunes. Her lover 
 could refuse her nothing. When his monastic revenues 
 proved inadequate to satisfy her caprices, he ran into 
 debt, and when his credit was exhausted, he had re- 
 course to stratagems to obtain money from his mother. 
 The Duchesse de Bourbon, having promised to settle the 
 claims of some of his most clamorous creditors, the 
 count instructed his steward, Moncrif, the Academician, 
 to make out a statement showing a total liability of 
 80,000 livres, whereas the debts in question did not 
 amount to much more than half that sum. The balance 
 he was to remit to Mile, de Camargo with his High- 
 ness's compliments. Moncrif, however, fearing the 
 consequences to himself should the duchess ever dis- 
 cover the trick which had been played her, revealed the 
 plot to the old lady, and so the ballerina never got the 
 money. As for the steward, he was promptly dismissed 
 " for having abused his master's confidence." 
 
 Such was the count's infatuation for his en :hantress 
 that he was " even jealous of the pleasure which the public 
 shared with him in seeing her dance," and, in 1736, in- 
 sisted on her quitting the Opera, to the despair of all 
 Paris. If we are to credit a report drawn up many years 
 later by the Police-Inspector Meusnier, for the edification 
 of Madame de Pompadour, " his passion tyrannised even 
 over the quarter where she resided, so that the neighbours 
 did not dare to show themselves at their windows or to 
 glance in the direction of the Camargo's house." l 
 
 In July 1737, the abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Pres, 
 
 with an annual revenue of 160,000 livres, became vacant, 
 
 by the death of old Cardinal de Bissy. The Comte de 
 
 Clermont had long had a covetous eye upon this rich 
 
 1 She was then living in the Rue Neuve-des-Petits-Champs.
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO 215 
 
 prize, and a substantial addition to his income was im- 
 peratively needed, as Mile, de Camargo's extravagance 
 had reduced him to such straits that, in the previous 
 December, he had been forced to sell his duchy of 
 Chateauroux to Louis XV., who, some years later, con- 
 ferred it on his mistress, Madame de la Tournelle. 
 Deeming, however, that, under the circumstances, some 
 concession to public opinion might be advisable, he 
 counterfeited a fit of devotion, separated from his mis- 
 tress, who, on a sudden, disappeared from Paris, and 
 caused a report to be circulated that she had been im- 
 prisoned by order of the King in Sainte-Pelagie. No 
 sooner, however, had the coveted abbey been conferred 
 upon him, than Mdlle. de Camargo reappeared upon the 
 scene, and went to do the honours of the Chateau de 
 Berny, a charming country-house situated two leagues 
 from Paris, on the road to Orleans, which had been 
 acquired by the monks of Saint-Germain-des-Pres in 
 1686, with the price of the lands which they had ceded 
 to Louis XIV. for the enlargement of the park of 
 Versailles. 
 
 At Berny, Clermont erected a private theatre, upon 
 whose stage the fair chatelaine, we may presume, occa- 
 sionally condescended to appear, though Gaboriau is 
 indebted to his imagination for the statement that she 
 was in the habit of dancing "pour la plus grande joie des 
 moines ravis" * as the chateau was the private residence of 
 the abbot, to which his subordinates were never admitted. 
 If they desired to see their superior on business connected 
 with the abbey, they had to present themselves at his 
 hotel in the Rue de Richelieu. 
 
 Mile, de Camargo presided over the Chateau of Berny 
 
 1 Les Comediennes adorees y p. 144.
 
 216 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 for some four years, when an obscure figurante of the Opera, 
 Mile. Le Due by name, " a creature without intelligence, 
 without manners, without principles, without a soul," 1 
 stole away the heart of the Comte de Clermont. Mile. Le 
 Due was the property of President de Rieux, son of the 
 celebrated financier, Samuel Bernard, who, having pur- 
 chased the lady's affections at a great price, was naturally 
 reluctant to surrender them. To oppose himself to a 
 Prince of the Blood in an affair of such importance was 
 more, however, than he had the courage to do ; and so, 
 one day, while the president was dispensing justice in the 
 Cour des Enqueues, Mile. Le Due bade farewell to the 
 luxurious nest which the luckless judge had furnished for 
 her, and transferred herself and her belongings to Berny. 
 Henceforth, the president lived only for revenge, and 
 racked his brains to discover some means whereby he 
 might humble the pride of the Comte de Clermont, and 
 make the faithless Le Due bitterly rue the day on which 
 she had so basely betrayed him. At length, he resolved 
 upon the following plan of campaign : he would invite 
 Mile, de Camargo to occupy the vacant place in his affec- 
 tions, and surround her with such luxury, array her in 
 such toilettes, load her with such presents as would cause 
 Mile. Le Due to die of envy, and her monkish lover to 
 gnaw his fingers with vexation. He accordingly made 
 overtures to the deserted ballerina, which were promptly 
 accepted ; and one morning all Paris was talking of the 
 
 1 Colle, Journal (edit. 1 868 ), i. 31 7. We fear that Colle, who is very 
 severe upon the lady, is hardly an impartial witness, as elsewhere, in his 
 Journal, we read that Mile, le Due " meddled with everything, and 
 prevented the Count using his influence except on behalf of herself and 
 her base vassals." As the dramatist was a protege of Clermont, this 
 would seem to point to some private grievance against her.
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO 217 
 
 magnificent generosity of the President de Rieux, who 
 had sent his new mistress a chastely- wrought bowl of 
 solid gold, filled to the brim with double louis. 
 
 The Comte de Clermont heard of the president's 
 gift, and hastened to accept the challenge. In the 
 Journal de Police, under date March 1742, we read : 
 
 " On Thursday, March 22, 1742, the Demoiselle Le 
 Due, formerly mistress of the President de Rieux, drove 
 to the Tenebrae at Longchamps 1 in a caleche of cane 
 painted blue, with all the chains of silver, drawn by six 
 ponies no bigger than dogs, ridden by a little postilion 
 and a little hussar, the first in a red waistcoat all galooned 
 with silver, and with a blue plume in his hat ; the other 
 in a blue tunic, with his sabre and cap decorated with 
 plaques of silver. The Le Due held the horses' reins, 
 and was escorted by two footmen. 
 
 "This luxurious equipage was a gallantry of the 
 Comte de Clermont, Abb6 of Saint-Germain, to flatter 
 the vanity of the Le Due, who occupies the post of his 
 favourite sultana, which the Camargo enjoyed up to the 
 end of the year 1741. 
 
 " The goddess of the fte responded to this magnificent 
 gallantry by attire still richer and more elegant, of blue 
 and silver ; she had for companions in her caleche her sister 
 and the Cartou. 2 A number of other actresses filled three 
 coaches in the suite of Madame 1'Abbesse, and wore her 
 colours of blue and silver. 
 
 " All the people at Longchamps, on horseback, in 
 
 1 The Tenebrae service at the Abbey of Longchamps on Wednesdays 
 and Thursdays in Holy Week was a fashionable function at this period. 
 Its popularity dated from 1727, when the famous singer, Mile. Lemaure, 
 took the veil, and transferred her services from the stage of the Opera to 
 the abbey choir. 
 
 2 See p. 1 80, note, supra.
 
 2i 8 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 coaches, or in calhhes, formed a procession in the rear of 
 this troupe of vestals, through curiosity or for the sake 
 of amusement. . . . 
 
 "Jests and songs at the expense of the Comte de 
 Clermont have not been wanting, and the King has inti- 
 mated to him that he is displeased and scandalised. 
 
 " Here is a placard which has been composed on the 
 matter : 
 
 < " THE 
 
 * " TRIUMPH OF VICE 
 
 *"At the Theatre of Longchamps, 
 
 "By MLLE. LE Due. 
 
 * " Thejirst representation given on Holy Wednesday, March 21. 
 On Friday the Theatre will be closed." ' * 
 
 The duel between the abb6 and the judge and 
 their respective sultanas continued until both gentle- 
 men were nearly ruined ; but victory ultimately rested 
 with the Church, as Mile, de Camargo and the Pre 
 sident de Rieux soon grew tired of one another and 
 agreed to separate, the latter making the ballerina a 
 present of 40,000 crowns out of what was left of his 
 fortune. After this adventure, according to the report 
 drawn up by Meusnier, of which we have already spoken, 
 Mile, de Camargo's old inclination for the Marquis 
 de Sourdis revived and they resumed their interrupted 
 liaison. Their respective positions were now, however, 
 reversed, as the Marquis had fallen on evil days, 
 and become so poor that his mistress had to pledge 
 her earrings and necklace to enable him to live in a 
 manner befitting his rank. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the danseuse had returned to the 
 
 1 Cited by Julei Cousin, Le Comte de Clermont, sa cour et ses mattresses.
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO 219 
 
 Opera, where she, of course, met with an enthusiastic 
 reception. 
 
 " Lgere et forte en sa souplesse, 
 La vive Camargo sautait," 
 
 wrote Voltaire. Nevertheless, she had now to be 
 content with a divided empire. During her long 
 absence, a new star had arisen, in the person of a 
 Mile. Salld, with whom the Camargo had henceforth 
 to share the applause of the public and the praises 
 of the poets. Mile. Salle's style of dancing differed 
 widely from that of her celebrated rival. Whereas the 
 latter danced with astonishing rapidity and rose so high 
 from the stage that "it seemed as if she were going 
 to touch the friezes," Mile. Salle danced slowly and 
 with the minimum of exertion, relying for effect upon 
 grace of movement and voluptuous poses. 
 
 The rivalry between the two stars was very bitter, 
 and all attempts to promote a better understanding 
 proved fruitless, although Voltaire himself intervened, 
 and addressed to the ladies some graceful lines, in 
 which he adroitly divided his praises between them : 
 
 " Ah ! Camargo, que vous etes brillante ! 
 Mais que Sall, grands dieux ! est ravissante ! 
 
 Que vos pas sont lagers, et que les siens sont doux ! 
 
 Elle est inimitable et vous tes nouvelle. 
 Les Nymphes sautent comme vous, 
 Et les Graces dansent comme elle." 
 
 In spite of the rivalry of Mile. Salle, the fame of 
 the elder ballerina was still sufficient to have satisfied 
 a less exacting artiste. An air to which she danced in 
 the first act of Pyramt et Thisbt excited such enthusiasm 
 that it became the vogue of the salons, first, as a song,
 
 220 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 and, later, as a dance, which was called after the 
 danseuse, the "Camargo," and by that name was still 
 known a century later. 
 
 Her triumphs in the dance encouraged Mile, de 
 Camargo to tempt fortune in another emploi, and, in 
 an opera called Les Talents fyrigues, she accordingly 
 made her debut as a singer. She had a very pretty voice, 
 and was much applauded ; but, for some reason, did not 
 repeat the experiment. 
 
 At the age of forty-one, conscious that she no 
 longer possessed the " souplesse forte et Ugkre" which 
 Voltaire had once celebrated, Mile, de Camargo decided 
 to retire, and, at Easter 1751, quitted the scene of her 
 many triumphs, never to return. Her popularity had 
 endured to the last, for Casanova, who saw her dance 
 some months earlier, declares that the public applauded 
 her "with a kind of frenzy." 
 
 On her retirement, she received a pension of 1500 
 livres, instead of the usual 1000, and another pension 
 of a like amount from the King. She had, however, 
 little need of such assistance, as, more prudent than 
 most of her colleagues, she had found secure invest- 
 ments for a considerable portion of the sums which 
 her various admirers had lavished upon her ; while, if 
 Meusnier is correct, she was in receipt of an annual 
 allowance of 12,000 livres from the Comte de Clermont, 
 which would have been materially increased, but for 
 the interference of Mile. Le Due. 
 
 Henceforth she ceased to interest the town. In 
 1753, we learn that she has taken unto herself another 
 impecunious lover, a certain Chevalier de la Guerch, 
 " who lived with her, and the whole of whose expenses 
 she defrayed," after which we hear no more of her until
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO 221 
 
 the chroniclers record her death, which took place on 
 April 28, 1770, at the age of sixty. She was then living 
 in the Rue Saint-Honore, " like a respectable bourgeoise, 
 very assiduous in visiting the poor of her parish, and 
 always surrounded by a dozen dogs, to whom she was 
 much attached." She was nursed in her last illness 
 by the widow of Franois Boucher, the famous painter. 
 
 The best-known portrait of Mile, de Camargo is 
 that by Lancret, in the Wallace Collection, at Hertford 
 House. An original repetition of this portrait, with 
 a marked variation in the colour scheme, is in the 
 Museum at Nantes. The Neues Palais at Potsdam con- 
 tains another portrait by Lancret, entitled La Camargo 
 avec son danseur, which shows the ballerina in the act of 
 executing a pas de deux with a male dancer. 1 
 
 1 Catalogue of the Wallace Collection.
 
 JUSTINE FAVART
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 
 
 TOWARDS the end of the reign of Louis XIV., there 
 lived in the Rue de la Verrerie, in Paris, a pastry-cook 
 named Charles Paul Favart. No ordinary pastry-cook 
 was Charles Paul ; he was a man of parts and a poet ; 
 but a poet of an unusually practical turn of mind, 
 inasmuch as, instead of contributing sonnets to the 
 Mercure, he was in the habit of utilising his talent to 
 advertise the excellence of his wares, with the result 
 that his buns 1 and cakes were famed throughout the 
 length and breadth of Paris. 
 
 The enterprising pastry-cook might have amassed 
 a comfortable fortune, had he been content with the 
 profits of his trade. But, unhappily, he became involved 
 in the craze for speculating in Mississippi stock ; and, 
 on his death, his wife and two children found them- 
 selves almost unprovided for. The eldest of these 
 children, a boy named Charles Simon, who had in 
 herited the paternal turn for verses, was at this time 
 pursuing his studies at the famous college of Louis- 
 le-Grand, where he had already gained some little 
 distinction. Forced to abandon the cultivation of the 
 Muses to take charge of his father's business, which, 
 
 1 Favart is said to have claimed that he had invented the bun. But, 
 as several learned writers assert that it was in vogue in the time of the 
 Crusades, he probably only meant that he had perfected it. See Des- 
 
 noiresterres, Epicuriens et Lettres, p. 182. 
 
 225 p
 
 226 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 though burdened with debt, still remained to them, 
 he nevertheless contrived, in the intervals of making 
 pastry, to compose a poem on La France delivree par 
 la pucelle d* Orleans^ which, in 1733, was awarded the 
 prize of the Academic des Jeux Floraux. He had 
 already, in collaboration with another young poet, 
 written a piece called Polinchinelle, comte de Paonfier, 
 performed at the Fair of Saint-Germain ; and, in the 
 following year, he submitted to the Opera-Comique a 
 vaudeville, entitled Les Deux Jumelles, which was pro- 
 duced on March 22, and met with a very favourable 
 reception. 
 
 Next day, while Favart, girt with his apron, his 
 shirt-sleeves rolled up to the elbow, a square cap on 
 his head, and a larding- pin in his hand, was working 
 in his shop in the Rue de la Verrerie, a coach drove 
 up to the door, out of which stepped an elderly 
 gentleman, very richly dressed, who inquired for M. 
 Favart, the author of Les Deux Jumelles. Poor Favart, 
 ashamed for the moment of revealing his identity, 
 replied that he would go and summon him, and, running 
 up to his bedroom, hastily removed the signs of his 
 trade, rolled down his shirt-sleeves, donned his best coat, 
 and returned to the shop to greet his amused visitor. 
 
 The latter, it transpired, was a wealthy farmer- 
 general, 1 who had a fancy for playing the part of 
 Maecenas. He had been present at the performance 
 at the Opera-Comique, the previous evening, and had 
 been so charmed with the piece that he had made 
 inquiries concerning its author, and, on learning that he 
 was a young man without means of his own, had resolved 
 
 1 We are not told the name of the farmer-general. In Favart' 8 
 Memoircs he is referred to merely as M. B***.
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 227 
 
 to offer him his protection. " I have myself," said he, 
 " been on bad terms with Fortune ; but she has ended by 
 caressing me, and I find no better way of using her 
 favours than to employ them to the advantage of the 
 arts and literature.'* 
 
 Thanks to the assistance of the generous financier, 
 Favart was enabled to relinquish his business and devote 
 himself entirely to play-writing. In the course of the 
 next few years, he provided the lesser theatres with more 
 than a score of pieces, one of which, La Chercheuse 
 d" 'esprit, played at the Opera-Comique, in 1741, met with 
 extraordinary success. Up to this time, Favart's pieces 
 had appeared anonymously, but, encouraged by the 
 enthusiastic reception accorded to the play in question, he 
 now decided to emerge from his shell, and, in accordance 
 with this resolution, gave a dinner to some of the most 
 noted beaux csprits and authors of the time. Among 
 those present was Crebillon pere, who received, with his 
 invitation, a delicate specimen of the dramatist's culinary 
 skill, an attention which he acknowledged by the 
 following quatrain : 
 
 "II est un auteur en credit, 
 Dont la muse a le don de plaire : 
 II fit la Chercheuse cTesprit, 
 II n'en chercha point pour la faire." 
 
 Towards the end of the year 1744, Favart was 
 entrusted by the director of the Opera, of which the 
 Opera-Comique was a dependency, with the manage- 
 ment of the latter theatre ; and it was while occupying 
 this post that an incident occurred which was to be the 
 starting-point of some very surprising adventures. 
 
 One day, in the following January, Favart received
 
 228 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 a letter from a lady at Luneville, soliciting for her 
 daughter an engagement at the Opera-Comique as 
 singer and dancer. The writer of the letter was a 
 certain Madame Duronceray, the wife of one of the 
 musicians of the chapel of Stanislaus Leczinski, ex- 
 King of Poland, to which she herself was attached. 
 The daughter on whose behalf she wrote, Marie Justine- 
 Benoite Duronceray, was, it appeared, now in her 
 eighteenth year, had been educated by the most skilful 
 masters, under the personal supervision of King Stanislaus 
 himself, and, to judge from the fond mother's letter, was 
 a perfect little prodigy, who united in her person every 
 imaginable accomplishment. 
 
 The director returned an encouraging answer, and the 
 two ladies, having obtained the necessary leave of absence 
 from the King, started for Paris, and, on their arrival, 
 lost no time in presenting themselves at Favart's house. 
 
 The result of the interview proved that Madame 
 Duronceray had not exaggerated her daughter's talents. 
 As actress, singer, and dancer, the girl showed remark- 
 able promise, while she was as charming as she was 
 accomplished. 1 A very brief examination sufficed to 
 assure Favart that he had discovered a most valuable 
 acquisition to his troupe ; and it was at once arranged 
 that Mile. Chantilly, as Justine had decided to call 
 herself, out of deference for a branch of the Duronceray 
 family which lived in Paris and might conceivably have 
 
 1 Justine's portraits, the most pleasing of which is perhaps Flipart's 
 engraving of the drawing by Charles Nicolas Cochin Jils, reproduced in 
 this volume, show us a pretty and vivacious-looking young woman, but 
 with features somewhat too irregular for beauty. It is probable, however, 
 that the attraction which she possessed for her contemporaries was, like 
 that of Mile. Moliere, of the kind in which Nature plays the lesser part, 
 and the desire to please the greater.
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 229 
 
 taken umbrage at one of their name appearing on the 
 stage, should make her d&but in a piece from Favart's 
 own pen, which he was then writing, in celebration of 
 the approaching marriage of the Dauphin with the 
 Infanta Maria Theresa. The title of this vaudeville, 
 Les Fetes publiques, has alone come down to us ; but, 
 whatever its merits may have been, it was highly suc- 
 cessful, the new actress's piquant beauty and grace, no 
 less than her vocal and dramatic talents, being loudly 
 acclaimed by a succession of crowded houses. 
 
 The charms of Justine had already made a deep 
 impression upon Favart, and, after her triumph in Les 
 Fetes publiqu.es ^ he became so deeply in love with the fair 
 debutante that he declared his passion, which the young 
 lady was pleased to reciprocate. An honest and ex- 
 cellent man, Favart did not attempt to take advantage 
 of their respective positions, 1 but offered to make her his 
 
 1 A document found in the Bastille on its capture in July 1789, 
 written by one Meusnier, an inspector of police who was employed by 
 Maurice de Saxe in his persecution of the Favarts, and published 
 the same year, under the title of Manuscrit trouve a la Bastille (signe 
 Meusmer\ concemant deux lettres-de-cachet lachees contre Mile, de Chantilly 
 et M. Favart par le Marechal de Saxe, asserts that for some time Justine 
 lived with Favart, as his mistress, in a house in the Rue de Buci. But in 
 the opinion of Desnoiresterres, the best informed of the poet's biographers, 
 this charge is sufficiently controverted by the following letter written by 
 Favart to his Jitncee : "Take care of your health ; remember that mine 
 is involved in it. You will take more care of yourself, if you have any 
 regard for me, who love you more than life ; though do not take offence, 
 for my very sentiments are your eulogy. Your talents seduce me, but 
 your virtue binds me. If your thoughts were in contradiction to your 
 actions, you would be worthy neither of my esteem nor my love. . . . 
 I am speaking to you against the interests of my heart ; but I, at the 
 same time, prove to you that I am the sincerest and the best of your 
 friends." Favart, Memoires et correspondence lltteraire (edit. 1808), 
 i. 20. Desnoiresterres, Epicurlcns et JLettres, p. 196 ft teq.
 
 230 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 wife; and, on December 12, 1745, they were married at 
 the Church of Saint-Pierre-aux-Bceufs, a little church 
 generally patronised by persons who wished to keep 
 their marriages secret for a while, in the presence of 
 only the necessary witnesses. 
 
 In view of what we shall presently relate, it is 
 important to note that M. Duronceray, Justine's father, 
 was not present at the ceremony, although he had given 
 the required consent to his daughter's marriage, in 
 writing. 
 
 The marriage took place under very inauspicious 
 circumstances. The vogue that Favart by his operas 
 and Justine by her singing and acting had obtained 
 for the Opera-Comique had aroused the jealousy of 
 the Theatre-Francais and the Comedie-Italienne ; and, 
 in the autumn of 1745, they solicited and obtained its 
 suppression. The severity of this measure was some- 
 what mitigated by the permission which Favart received 
 to open a theatre at the Fair of Saint-Laurent, whither 
 he transferred his company, and presented, among other 
 pieces, a pantomime, entitled Les Vendanges de Tempe, 
 of which the success was assured by the charming acting 
 of Justine. This privilege, however, was only accorded 
 him for a very short time, with the object of allowing 
 the troupe of the Opera-Comique leisure to make 
 other arrangements, and, on its withdrawal, Favart 
 and his colleagues found themselves in a very em- 
 barrassing situation ; and matters must have gone 
 hardly with them, had not the poet had the good 
 fortune to find a protector as powerful as he was un- 
 expected. 
 
 It happened that some little time before the suppres- 
 sion of the Opera-Comique, Favart had met at the house
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 231 
 
 of one of those leaders of the fashionable world whose 
 whim it was to patronise actors and men of letters, 
 Maurice de Saxe, now become the greatest soldier of 
 his age, Marechal de France ', and " general-in-chief of 
 all the armies of the King." Maurice, who was as 
 enthusiastic a patron of the drama as he had been in 
 the days of poor Adrienne Lecouvreur, was followed 
 in his campaigns by a troupe of actors, which gave 
 performances wherever the army happened to be 
 quartered, sometimes in a regular theatre, sometimes 
 in an improvised one ; and he now suggested to Favart 
 that he should organise a second troupe and accompany 
 him to Flanders for the campaign which was about 
 to open. 
 
 The offer seemed like a fortune to poor Favart, in 
 the state of poverty and uncertainty to which he was 
 then reduced ; nevertheless, he hesitated to accept it, 
 pointing out that the formation of a second company 
 might be regarded by the troupe already in existence 
 as an encroachment on its privileges, and that its 
 leader one Parmentier, an arrogant and unscrupulous 
 person, with whom Favart was by no means anxious 
 to enter into competition would be sure to throw 
 obstacles in his way. The Marshal, however, solved 
 the difficulty by promising to transfer the Parmentier 
 troupe to the division of the army commanded by 
 Marechal Lowendal, and attach Favart's company to 
 his own person ; and, under these conditions, the poet 
 gratefully accepted his offer. 
 
 Here are the terms in which the Marshal announced 
 his appointment to Favart, and, at the same time, 
 informed him of what was expected of him : 
 
 "The favourable report that has been made to me
 
 232 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 about you, Monsieur, has induced me to choose you, in 
 preference to all others, in order to give you the ex- 
 clusive management of my comedy company. I am 
 persuaded that you will use every endeavour to ensure 
 its success; but do not imagine that I look upon it 
 merely as an object of amusement ; it enters into my 
 political views and into the plan of my military opera- 
 tions. I will advise you what you will have to do 
 in this respect when occasion arises, and, in the mean- 
 while, I count upon your discretion and punctuality. 
 You are from this moment at liberty to make all your 
 arrangements for opening your theatre at Brussels, in 
 the month of April next." 
 
 As there was but little time at his disposal, Favart 
 started at once for Brussels, where he obtained a lease 
 of the Grand Theatre in the Rue de la Monnaie. 
 Then he returned to Paris, and, having selected his 
 company, which comprised all the best artistes of the 
 deceased Opera-Comique, he and Justine set out for 
 Flanders. 
 
 Two days after their arrival in Brussels, Maurice 
 de Saxe made his entry into the city. The excite- 
 ment was intense ; an enormous crowd lined the streets 
 through which the procession was to pass ; while the 
 windows, and even the roofs of the houses, were thronged 
 with spectators eager to catch a glimpse of the famous 
 general. The weather, however, was unfavourable for 
 a public ceremony ; a storm was brewing, and, as the 
 Marshal reached the Hotel de Ville, where all the fair 
 ladies of Brussels had congregated to receive him, a 
 terrific peal of thunder was heard. Many persons no 
 doubt saw in this an omen of evil for the hitherto 
 all-conquering warrior ; but Favart chose to regard
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 233 
 
 it far differently, and forthwith improvised the following 
 verses : 
 
 " Est-ce li notre gne>al 
 
 Que ramene Bellone ? 
 Eh ! oui, c'est ce grand mardchal, 
 
 C'est lui-meme en personne. 
 Non ; je le vois a ses regards, 
 
 C'est le Dieu de la guerre, 
 Et Jupiter annonce Mars 
 
 Par un coup de tonnerre." 
 
 Copies of these verses were printed and circulated every- 
 where ; and the Marshal, having had his attention drawn 
 to them, as he was sitting down to dinner with his general 
 officers, sent for the writer and complimented him upon 
 them. One of the officers present, who did not share 
 his chiefs passion for the theatre, asked Favart of what 
 use a poet like himself could be to the army. " To 
 celebrate the exploits of our warriors and satirise the 
 enemy," was the prompt reply, and the questioner 
 proceeded no further. 
 
 During the afternoon, apparently at the request of 
 some of the ladies of the city, the Marshal gave orders 
 that part of the troops should be paraded in front of 
 the Hotel de Ville and put through various evolutions. 
 One of the corps selected was a contingent of Jacobite 
 Highlanders, " who, in changing their country, had not 
 thought it necessary to change their costume." The 
 scantiness of the gallant Scotsmen's attire, Favart tells 
 us, greatly shocked the Brussels ladies, to the intense 
 amusement of the Marshal and his officers. In the even- 
 ing, Favart's company gave their first performance, which 
 was so well received as to remove all doubt as to the 
 success of their enterprise.
 
 234 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Although Brussels was the centre of the Marshal's 
 operations, and Favart had secured a lease of the Grand 
 Theatre, the terms of his engagement obliged him to 
 follow the army into the field, a necessity which involved 
 him and his company in many hardships and privations. 
 Once Favart passed three days and three nights without 
 sleep, except such as he could obtain leaning against a 
 tree, with his feet in water. Often provisions ran short ; 
 bread sold at fifteen sous the pound, and sometimes the 
 unfortunate actors were nearly starving. Nor were 
 dangers of an even more alarming kind wanting. The 
 country swarmed with the irregular cavalry of the 
 enemy, who intercepted convoys, cut off stragglers, 
 and burned and pillaged to within musket-shot of the 
 French lines. Neither age nor sex was sacred to these 
 Croats and Pandours. A luckless troupe of actors 
 on their way from Brussels to Cologne, to fulfil an 
 engagement at the Elector's Court, was surprised by a 
 body of these marauders and robbed of everything they 
 possessed, with the exception of their theatrical cos- 
 tumes, in which they were compelled to trudge to 
 Louvain, their woe-begone countenances contrasting 
 oddly with the gay habiliments of Arlequin, Scaramouche, 
 and the rest. Maurice de Saxe had granted Favart's 
 company an escort of thirty men of the Regiment de 
 Septimanie ; but this force was insufficient to secure them 
 from molestation. One day, while passing through some 
 wooded country between Louvain and Indiogne, they 
 were attacked by a body of hussars, who outnumbered 
 their little escort by as many as four to one. A san- 
 guinary hand-to-hand conflict ensued, for the marauders 
 were as brave as they were ruthless, while their excesses 
 had exasperated the French to the last degree. Twice
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 235 
 
 the hussars were beaten back, and, at length, reinforce- 
 ments arriving for the defenders, they drew off", leaving, 
 however, only six of the gallant escort alive, the least 
 wounded of whom had received four sabre cuts. Favart, 
 in a letter to his mother giving an account of this 
 adventure, speaks with admiration of the conduct of 
 this soldier : " Never did I see a man of such courage. 
 He was covered with blood, which he was losing in 
 abundance, and yet would not permit his comrades to 
 give a thought to him until the combat was over. 
 Then, in order to speak, he was obliged to hold up 
 his nose and a portion of his cheek, which had been 
 separated from the rest of his countenance by a sabre 
 cut, and had fallen down over his mouth ! " 
 
 To compensate the Favarts for the hardships and 
 perils they were compelled to undergo, Maurice de 
 Saxe treated them with the greatest kindness ; in fact, 
 presents were simply showered upon them. On one 
 occasion, we find him sending them three fine horses 
 to draw their coach ; on another, " a camp-bed of red 
 satin " ; on a third, twenty-five bottles of Hungarian 
 wine. Moreover, he gave Favart to understand that 
 he might draw upon him freely in case of necessity, 
 and protected him against the attacks of the jealous 
 Parmentier, the leader of the other troupe of actors, who, 
 not without some cause, regarded Favart as a rival, and 
 did all in his power to annoy and discredit him. The 
 simple-minded poet, who had as yet no suspicion as to 
 the real object of the Marshal's attentions, seems to have 
 been under the impression that they were intended as 
 tributes to his literary and dramatic talents, and, in his 
 letters to his mother, waxes quite enthusiastic over his 
 patron's kindness and generosity.
 
 236 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 The Marshal, in engaging Favart's services, had told 
 him that he regarded the troupe which followed his 
 army as something more than a means of amusement, 
 and that it " entered into the plan of his military opera- 
 tions." M. Leon Gozlan makes merry over this letter, 
 which, he thinks, was written merely to flatter the poet's 
 vanity, and lure him and his wife to Flanders ; l but there 
 can be no doubt that Maurice did attach considerable 
 importance to the provision of such entertainments for 
 those under his command. In the first place, they 
 served to occupy not a little of the time which would 
 otherwise be employed in more doubtful pleasures, par- 
 ticularly play, which, in spite of stringent prohibitions, 
 was very prevalent in the army among all ranks, and 
 had a most disastrous effect on the morale of the troops, 
 causing the officers to gamble away their pay and the 
 men their rations, and leading to frequent quarrels and 
 much ill-feeling. In the second place, the Marshal's 
 knowledge of the French character had taught him that 
 a happy couplet de circonstance sung to a lively air often 
 had more effect upon the soldiers than the most elo- 
 quent of harangues. An anecdote celebrated in the 
 history of this campaign will show how accurately the 
 great commander had gauged the spirit of his troops. 
 
 In the autumn of 1746, the French, after capturing 
 Namur, had occupied Tongres, in the market-place of 
 which Favart had constructed a theatre. The allied 
 army, under Prince Charles of Lorraine, was close at 
 hand, and a decisive engagement was daily expected ; but 
 this did not prevent the improvised playhouse from 
 being crowded every evening. Early in the afternoon 
 of October 9, the Marshal sent for Favart to come to 
 
 1 Madame Favart et U Marechal de Saxe.
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 237 
 
 his quarters, and, on his arrival, dismissed the officers 
 who were with him, and, turning to the poet, said : 
 " To-morrow I shall give battle. As yet I have issued 
 no orders to that effect. Announce it this evening 
 at the conclusion of the performance, in couplets suit- 
 able to the occasion. Until that moment let nothing 
 transpire." 
 
 Favart obeyed, and composed the following verses, 
 which were sung by a young and pretty actress between 
 the two pieces of which the performance consisted : 
 
 " Nous avons rempli notre tache, 
 Demain nous donnerons relache ; 
 Guerriers, Mars va guider vos pas ; 
 Que votre ardeur se renouvelle : 
 A des intrpides soldats 
 La Victoire est toujours fiddle. 
 
 " Demain bataille, jour de gloire ; 
 Que dans les fastes de 1'histoire 
 Triomphe encore le nom francais 
 Digne d'eternelle me'moire ! 
 Revenez apres vos succes, 
 Jouir des fruits de la victoire." 
 
 These verses caused the most unbounded astonish- 
 ment. It was at first supposed that the poet had lost 
 his head ; a battle announced between two comic operas, 
 the order of the day to the air of a popular song, seemed 
 too absurd ! Officers hastened to the Marshal's box 
 to inquire if Favart had had any authority for his 
 announcement ; but Maurice smilingly replied that he 
 had acted under his orders. Thereupon the astonish- 
 ment changed to enthusiasm, and the theatre resounded 
 with applause. " On all sides," writes Favart, " but 
 two words were heard : ' Demain, bataille ! demain,
 
 238 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 bataille ! ' The intoxication passed rapidly from officers 
 to men, and was so intense that one could not fail to 
 see therein a presage of victory." * 
 
 The battle so eagerly anticipated did not take place 
 next day, but on October n, when Maurice attacked 
 the allies at Roucoux, a little to the north of Liege, 
 and completely defeated them, though the English, who, 
 as usual, bore the brunt of the engagement, fought 
 right valiantly, and the victory was in consequence very 
 dearly purchased. 
 
 In celebration of his compatriots' triumph, Favart, 
 on the morrow of the battle, hurriedly composed two 
 or three scenes full of happy allusions to the events of 
 the preceding day. These were performed the same 
 night, and were, of course, received with enthusiasm. 
 He did not confine himself, he tells us, to chanting 
 the praises of the victors, but paid a generous tribute 
 to the courage of the vanquished, one of his couplets 
 concluding thus : 
 
 " Anglais chdris de la victoire 
 
 Vous ne cdez qu'aux seuls Francais ; 
 Vous n'en avez pas moins de gloire." 
 
 The victory of Roucoux concluded the campaign 
 of that year, and Favart and his company returned to 
 Brussels, heartily thankful to be quit, for a time, of 
 war's alarms. " I prefer," he wrote to his mother, 
 " moderate profits with safety to a large fortune pur- 
 chased by continual fear and danger." However, he 
 had no reason to be dissatisfied with his winter season 
 in the Belgian capital, which was indeed successful 
 beyond his most sanguine anticipations, the profits at 
 
 1 Memoires et Correspondance (edit. 1808), i. 25.
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 239 
 
 each performance averaging as much as six hundred 
 livres. To add to his good fortune, he was able to rid 
 himself of his rival Parmentier, who, finding that the 
 Marshal had taken Favart definitely under his protection, 
 and that all attempts to oust him were likely to prove 
 abortive, retired in disgust, leaving the poet master of 
 the field. The future now presented itself to Favart 
 in the most smiling colours ; but alas ! the poor man 
 was living all the while in a fool's paradise, from which 
 he was soon destined to be very rudely ejected. 
 
 Though now in his fiftieth year, Maurice de Saxe 
 was still as susceptible to feminine charms as in the days 
 when he had wrought such havoc among the ladies of 
 Lithuania and Courland. If the record of his gallantries 
 did not equal those of his royal father, it was probably 
 because his military occupations absorbed so large a 
 portion of his time. His tastes, particularly where the 
 theatre was concerned, were catholic. " Whom did he 
 not love ? To what actress or opera-girl's skirts was 
 he not attached ? All the actresses of his campaigns in 
 Flanders succeeded one another in that inflammable heart 
 and disputed there an ephemeral reign : Miles. Dari- 
 mattes, Fleury, Amand, Verrieres, 1 Bline, Auguste, and 
 Beaumenard. For the Saxon hero, the troupe which he 
 caused to follow him was a seraglio, in which the last 
 comers were the most honoured." 2 
 
 Upon the susceptible Marshal it was only to be 
 expected that the fresh beauty and grace of Justine 
 should make a favourable impression, nor was his admira- 
 tion for the young lady by any means diminished by 
 
 1 Marie Rinteau, the great-grandmother of George Sand. 
 
 2 Deinoiresterres, fipicuriens et Lettres, p. 215.
 
 2 4 o QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 the fact that to borrow his own curious expression 
 she was " possessed by the demon of conjugal love," l 
 and, therefore, unlikely to afford him an easy conquest. 
 M. L6on Gozlan asserts that Justine had attracted 
 Maurice's notice in Paris, and that his invitation to 
 Favart to accompany him to Flanders was nothing but 
 a pretext for getting the poet's wife into his power. Of 
 this there is some doubt ; but, on the other hand, there 
 can be no question that, before the end of the year 1746, 
 Maurice had fallen desperately in love with the young 
 actress, and had determined to make her, bon grt, mal 
 grd, his mistress. 
 
 " Mile, de Chantilly," he writes, " I take leave of 
 you ; you are an enchantress more dangerous than the 
 late Madame Armide. Whether as Pierrot, whether 
 under the guise of Love, or even as a simple shepherdess, 
 you are so excellent that you enchant us all. I have 
 seen myself on the point of succumbing I, whose fatal 
 art affrights the world. What a triumph for you, had 
 you been able to make me submit to your laws ! I 
 thank you for not having used all your powers ; you 
 might well pass for a young sorceress, with your 
 shepherd's crook, which is nothing else than the magic 
 
 1 " . . . Je vous dires en outre que je suis amoureu depuis trois ans 
 d'une petite Gelan (?) qui me joue des mauves tour et qui ma penses faire 
 tourner la servelle ; je vous en ay e*crit quelque chosse lanee passe, elle ait 
 posscde du demon de I 'amour conjugal. . . . J'ay etes tente deux ou trois 
 foy de la noier." Letter of Maurice de Saxe to his sister, the Princess 
 von Holstein, March 10, 1747. We hesitate to produce the remainder 
 of this letter, of which, as Desnoiresterres very justly remarks, the ortho- 
 graphy is the least enormity, even in the original ; but the curious reader 
 will find it in Les Lettres du Marecbal de Saxe a la Princesse de Holstein 
 (p. 20), published by the Societe des Bibliophiles Francais in 1831. 
 A copy, presented by T. J. Dibdin to the Hon. Thomas Grenville, is in 
 the possession of the British Museum.
 
 Pour charmer la raiiou.la oaUe la clioifu', 
 
 1. i .mlx'tni no ics norojiiciis ; 
 
 O 
 Etcwmrae aTitAhtJefleurNjit naitroies talons. 
 
 Ponr en oilrir tin BonqtioL a fh.ilie 
 
 ''-" '.' -^' <<^ - -- ^ 
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 
 
 From an engraving by J. J. FLIPART, after the drawing by CHARLES NICOLAS 
 COCHIN fils
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 241 
 
 wand with which that poor prince of the French, whom, 
 I fancy, they called Renaud, was struck. Already I 
 have seen myself surrounded with flowers and fleurettes, 
 fatal equipment for all the favourites of Mars. I 
 shudder at it ; and what would the King of France and 
 
 7 O 
 
 Navarre have said if, in place of the torch of his venge- 
 ance, he had found me with a garland in my hand ? In 
 spite of the danger to which you have exposed me, I 
 have not the heart to blame you for my weakness ; it 
 is a charming one ! But it is only by flying from it 
 that one is able to escape a peril so great. 
 
 " Adieu, divinite" du parterre ador^e ; 
 
 Faites le bien d'un seul et les de"sirs de tous ; 
 Et puissent vos amours 6galer la dur6e 
 
 De la tendre amitie que mon coeur a pour vous ! 
 
 " Pardon, Mademoiselle, to the remains of intoxica- 
 tion this rhymed prose to which your talents inspire me ; l 
 the effects of the liquor of which I have drunk endures, 
 they say, often longer than one thinks." 
 
 From this letter, which is undated, but was no doubt 
 
 1 This is really very amusing. These pretty verses had been addressed, 
 many years before, by Voltaire, to Adrienne Lecouvreur ; and the Marshal 
 not only coolly appropriates them, but adds insult to injury by calling 
 them " rhymed prose "! One can imagine the indignation of the poet 
 had this letter, by any chance, fallen into his hands. This was not the 
 first time, however, that Voltaire's verses had been purloined by an un- 
 scrupulous lover. The charming lines, in English, which he addressed to 
 Lady Hervey, beginning 
 
 " Hervey, would you know the passion 
 You have kindled in my breast," 
 
 were subsequently transcribed by the lover of a Mrs. Harley, the wife of 
 a London merchant, and formed part of the evidence on which her hus- 
 band based his claim for a divorce. 
 
 Q
 
 242 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 written in the late autumn of 1746, as Maurice was on 
 the point of setting out for Paris, where he spent the 
 following winter, it would appear that the Marshal had 
 already commenced the siege of the lady's heart. 
 Whether his operations were crowned with success at 
 this period is a point upon which there is a considerable 
 difference of opinion. Dumolard, the editor of Favart's 
 Mtmoires et Correspondance y published in 1808, makes of 
 Justine a perfect paragon of virtue, whose resistance the 
 Marshal did not succeed in overcoming for some years, 
 and then only under pressure of the most cruel perse- 
 cution. M. Saint-Rene Taillandier, one of the most 
 conscientious of Maurice's biographers, adopts the same 
 view, and is very severe upon his hero's conduct in this 
 matter ; while he shows us Justine " despising alike 
 threats and promises, the victim of disgraceful intrigues, 
 persecuted, thrown into the depths of a dungeon, guard- 
 ing pure and intact the dignity of her art, her honour, 
 and her name : a rare lesson for an actress to give to 
 a corrupt society." Sainte-Beuve l and Desnoiresterres, 
 however, take a different view, and, much as we should 
 wish to believe in the lady's innocence, we are compelled 
 to admit that the evidence which they adduce leaves 
 no room for doubt upon the matter. The former 
 points to the report of the police-inspector, Meusnier, 
 who declares that at Brussels Justine had ousted all the 
 other enchantresses of the Marshal, and obtained so great 
 an influence over her lover that no one could obtain any 
 favour from him, except through her good offices, 2 and 
 to Maurice's letter to the Princess of Holstein ; while 
 the latter cites a letter of Justine to the Marshal, written 
 
 1 Nou-ueaux Lundis (1869), xi. 106-108. 
 * Manuscrit trouve a la Bastille (1789), p. 5.
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 243 
 
 during her confinement in the Ursuline convent at Les 
 Grands Andelys, in 1749, and which, in his opinion, 
 amounts to a confession of her fault. 1 
 
 But if Justine succumbed, as so many had succumbed 
 before her, to this impetuous wooer, her fall would 
 appear to have been due to a very different cause from 
 that of any of her predecessors in the Marshal's affections. 
 It is certain that her heart was not concerned in the 
 matter, while it is very improbable that she was influenced 
 by a desire to participate in the favours which Maurice 
 was in the habit of heaping upon his enchantresses, 
 though she subsequently admitted to having " availed 
 herself of his benefits and assistance," doubtless being 
 of opinion that, since the mischief was done, she was 
 justified in making the best of the situation. The poor 
 young woman, indeed, appears to have regarded the 
 Marshal with feelings of positive aversion, and there can 
 be little doubt, in view of what follows, that she was 
 intimidated into surrender through fear of the conse- 
 quences to herself and her husband of thwarting the man 
 in whose power they had placed themselves ; a fear which, 
 as we shall presently see, was but too well justified. 
 
 Under these circumstances, it is scarcely surprising 
 that the liaison should have been a brief one. Tortured 
 by remorse, loving her unsuspecting husband the more 
 
 1 We might add the testimony of Marmontel, who, from his very 
 intimate relations with two prominent members of Maurice's seraglio, 
 Miles. Navarre and de Verrires, was without doubt well informed in 
 regard to the Marshal's love-affairs. " He (Maurice de Saxe) always 
 kept an opera comique in his camp. Two performers belonging to this 
 theatre, called Chantilly and Beaumenard, were his favourite mistresses ; 
 and he declared that their rivalry and caprices plagued him more than the 
 Queen of Hungary's Hussars. I have read these words in one of his 
 letters. For them it was that he neglected Mile. Navarre."
 
 244 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 now that she knew herself unworthy of his affection 
 and confidence, still possessed, in fact, by " the demon 
 of conjugal love," in spite of all Maurice's efforts to 
 exorcise him, Justine only waited for a favourable oppor- 
 tunity to break her chains. Maurice's absence in Paris 
 during the winter of 1746-1747 apparently gave her 
 the necessary courage, and, on his return to Flanders, 
 she refused, to his intense indignation, to resume her 
 relations with him, and persisted in her resolution, not- 
 withstanding all his threats and entreaties. Such was 
 the position of affairs when hostilities were renewed in 
 the spring, and the Favarts and their troupe quitted 
 Brussels to join the army. 
 
 Favart's letters to his mother contain some interesting 
 details of that campaign. He was present at the taking 
 of the Fort Saint-Philippe, and speaks with righteous indig- 
 nation of the barbarous execution of the garrison, which 
 he stigmatises as " a disgrace to humanity." He also sends 
 her a lively account of the battle of Lawfeld (July 2) : 
 
 "Mv DEAR MOTHER, I am in good health. The 
 battle is won ; the prediction I made to you has been 
 verified. The action took place between Maestricht, 
 Tongres, and Saint-Tron. The left of the enemy's 
 army, composed of English, Hanoverians, and Hessians, 
 was attacked in the morning ; they defended themselves 
 all day and fought desperately ; but the issue is no 
 longer in doubt. The enemy's right did not await our 
 fire, but sought safety in flight ; the Dutch and Austrians 
 were routed without having fired a shot. The rest of 
 the English, to the number of ten thousand, after 
 defending themselves for three hours in a village into 
 which they had been driven, endeavoured to escape across
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 245 
 
 the marshes ; but, meeting Clermont's army, which they 
 had not expected, were annihilated. 
 
 "A simple carabinier took the English general, 
 Ligonier, prisoner; he is to them what Marechal de 
 Saxe is to us, if such a comparison were possible. The 
 soldier conducted him to the King, together with a 
 standard ; a moment later, the Duke of Cumberland 
 was himself taken. 1 I have related all this very badly, 
 because I am writing to you in haste ; it is the warmth of 
 my French blood which guides my pen. Victory ! great 
 victory ! everything is summed up in these last words. 
 I am one of the first to write. The action still continues 
 to our advantage, we have finished conquering, I say more, 
 we have finished destroying. Pardon me if I say we ; 
 through frequenting the society of heroes, I adopt their 
 language. Show my letter to all our friends ; they have 
 French hearts, and this success will interest them." 2 
 
 Up to the time of the battle of Lawfeld, the re- 
 pentant Justine would appear to have been left in com- 
 parative peace by her persecutor, military occupations 
 presumably allowing Maurice but scant leisure for love- 
 making. But, the allies disposed of, for the time being, the 
 Marshal turned his attention to other matters, and showed 
 himself so determined to recover his prey, that Justine 
 saw that her only way of escape was to confess all to 
 her still unsuspecting husband, implore his forgiveness, 
 and demand his protection. The worthy Favart, though 
 much shocked at such a revelation, had the good sense 
 to perceive that his young wife had been the victim of 
 circumstances, and that he himself was greatly to blame 
 
 1 This was, of course, incorrect. 
 
 2 Farart, Mcmoires ct Correspondance (edit. 1808), i. 30.
 
 246 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 for not having foreseen the danger which threatened her, 
 and interfered to prevent it. He comforted her by an 
 assurance of his full forgiveness, but pointed out that 
 it would be impossible for her to escape the Marshal's 
 unwelcome attentions so long as she remained with the 
 army, and that her best course was to fly to Brussels 
 and throw herself upon the protection of the Duchesse 
 de Chevreuse, who had shown them much kindness 
 during the preceding winter. Justine readily agreed to 
 his proposal, and, that same night, without allowing 
 any of their colleagues to suspect their intention, they 
 set out for Brussels, where Favart placed his wife in 
 safety with some of his friends, and then returned to 
 the army to face the spiteful comments of his com- 
 panions and the fury of the Marshal. A day or two 
 after his arrival, he writes to the fugitive at Brussels : 
 
 " I have arrived in good health, my dear little buffoon ; 
 your own occasions me much uneasiness. Send me the 
 surgeon's certificate, that I may show it to the Marshal. 
 The gossip of the troupe has caused a report to be 
 circulated that your illness is only an awkwardly devised 
 piece of trickery to conceal your fears and my jealousy. 
 I replied that there was no cause for jealousy, and that 
 to suspect you was to insult you. M. de la Grolet l is to 
 be consulted as to whether you are in a fit state to rejoin 
 the army, and a threat has been conveyed to me that you 
 shall be brought here forcibly by grenadiers, and that I 
 shall be punished for having invented the story of your 
 illness. For myself, I care little for their threats ; but 
 I cannot forgive myself for having brought you to a 
 country where you are exposed to such tyranny. We 
 1 A military surgeon at Brussels.
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 247 
 
 are very uncomfortable here; I have not yet succeeded 
 in finding a lodging, and, since leaving you, have slept 
 on straw under the stars. If any attempt be made to 
 send you back, implore assistance of the Duchesse de 
 Chevreuse ; she has too keen a sense of justice to refuse 
 you her protection in a matter of such importance, and 
 the kindness with which she has honoured us is a sure 
 proof of that. She can tell M. de la Grolet that your 
 health does not permit of your undertaking so trying 
 a journey. Against such testimony nothing can prevail. 
 Finally, my dearest, although your presence is necessary 
 here for the sake of the performances, and I am burning 
 with impatience to see you once more, your health, more 
 precious than all our other interests, more dear to me 
 than life itself, must be preferred to everything. Send 
 news of yourself as soon as possible to your affectionate 
 husband." 
 
 As will be gathered from the aforegoing letter, 
 Justine's flight had been very badly received by the 
 commander of the army. Grimm relates the following 
 anecdote, which would seem hardly credible, did we not 
 know Maurice to be capable of any extravagance when 
 his passions were thwarted : 
 
 "The night of their escape was apparently very 
 stormy, since the bridges of communication between the 
 Marshal's army and Lowendal's corps, which was on the 
 other side of the river, were carried away, and it was feared 
 that the enemy might take advantage of the circumstance 
 to fall upon this corps and crush it. M. Dumesnil, who 
 was called at that time ' the handsome Dumesnil,' l came 
 to the Marshal's quarters early in the morning, and found 
 1 The Marquis Dumesnil, afterwards Lieutenant-General of Dauphine.
 
 2 4 8 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 him seated on his bed, his hair dishevelled, and a prey to 
 the most bitter grief. Dumesnil attempted to console him. 
 ' The misfortune is undoubtedly very great/ said he, ' but 
 it may be repaired.* * Ah, my friend ! ' replied the Marshal, 
 
 * there is no remedy ; I am undone ! ' Dumensil con- 
 tinued his efforts to reanimate his courage and to reassure 
 him in regard to the accident of the previous night. 
 
 * It will not, perhaps, have the results that you fear,' said 
 he. But the Marshal continued a prey to despair, and 
 to regard himself as a man at the end of his resources. 
 At length, after about a quarter of an hour had passed 
 in this way, he perceived that all that Dumesnil had 
 said referred only to the broken bridges, upon which he 
 exclaimed : ' What ! who could have supposed that you 
 were talking only of those broken bridges ? That is 
 an inconvenience which may be repaired in three hours. 
 But the Chantilly has been taken from me ! ' " 1 
 
 Furious though he was at the escape of his prey, 
 Maurice, much to poor Favart's relief, took no steps to 
 execute the threats which he had uttered in the heat of 
 passion, and the performances of the troupe went on as 
 before, save for the absence of Justine, who continued 
 her flight to Paris, where she gave birth to a son. But 
 Maurice was not the man to calmly accept defeat, in 
 love any more than in war, and no sooner was peace 
 signed, in the autumn of the following year, and he 
 found himself at leisure to attend to his private affairs, 
 than he embarked upon a determined persecution of 
 the luckless pair who had dared to thwart him a per- 
 secution which was the more difficult for them to escape, 
 since, for a long time, they seem to have entertained not 
 the slightest suspicion as to its real promoter. 
 
 1 Correspondance litteraire, vii. 464, cited by Desnoiresterres.
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 249 
 
 Favart was the first to feel the weight of the Mar- 
 shal's vengeance. The rent of the Grand Theatre at 
 Brussels, which he had leased since the spring of 1745, 
 had been fixed at five hundred ducats per annum, and 
 this sum had been regularly paid, so long as Brabant 
 remained in possession of the French troops. When, 
 however, by the terms of the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, 
 the conquered territory was returned to Austria, Favart 
 found himself in a most unpleasant situation ; for the 
 proprietors of the theatre, two ladies of the name of 
 Myesses, without giving him an opportunity to enter a 
 defence, obtained from the re-established Courts an order 
 for his arrest and the sequestration of his theatrical stock, 
 on the ground that he owed them a further sum of 26,000 
 francs. To avoid being thrown into prison, Favart was 
 compelled to escape across the frontier ; but so little did 
 he suspect the share that the Marshal had in the misfor- 
 tunes that had come upon him, that he actually wrote to 
 him imploring his protection. 
 
 Maurice promised him all the assistance in his power, 
 having previously assured himself that his interference 
 was likely to do Favart more harm than good with the 
 Brussels judges in their present state of feeling against 
 the recent invaders of their country. The poet's appeal 
 against the unjust decision failed, and, to make matters 
 worse, the proprietors of the theatre, secretly instigated 
 by the Marshal, applied to the Paris Courts for permis- 
 sion to execute the order for Favart's arrest on French 
 territory. 
 
 While these events were taking place in Flanders, 
 Justine was in Paris, where, if we are to credit the evi- 
 dence of Meusnier, the Marshal had succeeded in per- 
 suading her to return to him, and had established her in
 
 2 50 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 a house belonging to a Madame de Lesseville, which 
 had been specially furnished for her benefit by Ossere, 
 a fashionable upholsterer of the Pont Notre-Dame. 
 Here we are still following Meusnier she lived " in a 
 species of captivity," all communication with her husband 
 being most strictly interdicted. In defiance of this pro- 
 hibition, however, she admitted him into the house at 
 night, when he contrived to so work upon her feelings 
 that she resolved to defy the Marshal a second time. 
 " Accordingly, one fine night, when the latter was at 
 Chambord, the Chantilly packed her belongings, carried 
 off everything that she could, and retired with her hus- 
 band to her mother-in-law's house in the Rue de Verrerie. 
 From there she wrote to the Marshal, informing him that 
 it was no longer possible for her to live in sin, and that 
 her salvation was dearer to her than all the fortunes in 
 the world ; notwithstanding which, she would retain for 
 him eternal esteem and gratitude." Meusnier adds that 
 the Marshal, though naturally much surprised at such 
 conduct on the lady's part, succeeded in controlling his 
 indignation, and " sought to avenge himself only by new 
 benefits." 1 
 
 The first of these "benefits" was to make strong 
 representations to the authorities on behalf of the pro- 
 prietors of the Brussels theatre, who, as we have men- 
 tioned, were endeavouring to get Favart extradited, and 
 to succeed in obtaining a promise that the necessary 
 warrant should be duly granted. He then wrote to 
 Justine as follows : 
 
 " I am informed, Mademoiselle, that the Demoiselles 
 Myesses (the proprietors of the Brussels theatre) intend 
 
 1 Manuscrit trouve a la Bastille (1789), p. 6.
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 251 
 
 to prosecute Favart, in virtue of the decree which 
 they obtained against him at Brussels. I think that it 
 will be advisable for you to go away, and, as you are not 
 happily situated, I offer you an allowance of 500 livres, 
 which will be paid you every month, until your affairs 
 have taken a favourable turn. 
 
 " Have the kindness to inform me of your decision 
 in this matter, and the place that you or Favart have 
 chosen for your retreat. 
 
 "You are aware, Mademoiselle, of my sentiments 
 for you." 
 
 Favart took upon himself the task of answering the 
 Marshal's letter. He tendered him his very humble 
 thanks for his offer, which, however, he declined, as he 
 had done nothing to merit such generosity, and it would 
 be disgraceful for him to accept it. At the same time, 
 all unsuspicious of Maurice's duplicity, he implored his 
 protection against the Demoiselles Myesses, and went to 
 his house to seek his advice. 
 
 Maurice advised him to make his escape while there 
 was yet time; and old Madame Favart, having succeeded 
 in borrowing fifty louis for her son, from Mile. Lamotte 
 of the Comedie-Fransaise, the unfortunate poet fled to 
 Strasburg the same night, where he remained for four 
 months in hiding. He had effected his escape none too 
 soon, for the very next day (June 10, 1749), a lettre de 
 cachet for his arrest was issued. 
 
 A day or two after Favart's flight, Maurice left Paris 
 on a visit to Dresden, whence he wrote to the poet's 
 mother, offering to find her son " honourable employ- 
 ment," and "a secure asylum, so long as he might require 
 one," and assuring her of his desire to render him every
 
 252 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 service that lay in his power. Favart, however, seems to 
 have grown a little suspicious of the Marshal's protesta- 
 tions of friendship, for, when the offer was communicated 
 to him he declined it, and elected to continue in hiding 
 at Strasburg. 
 
 The misfortunes which had befallen Favart had left 
 his family without resources, and, but for the generosity 
 of Mile. Lamotte of the Comedie-Francaise, they would 
 have found themselves in sore straits. Justine, however, 
 took advantage of the Marshal's absence from Paris to 
 enter into negotiations with the Comedie-Italienne, and, 
 on August 6, 1749, made her debut there, as Marianne in 
 the preuve of Marivaux. Her success was astonishing. 
 " The pit loudly demanded that she should be received 
 into the company," writes Colle, who was among the 
 audience ; " and, whereas it was the rule not to admit 
 French into the Italian troupes, or Italians into the 
 French, it was altogether different in her case ; there was 
 a cabal in her favour, and the public had only to make a 
 noise for the regulation to be set aside." Colle expresses 
 his opinion that the habituts of the pit, particularly of the 
 Comedie-Italienne, were becoming " childish and im- 
 becile," and " ought to be placed under restraint." 
 
 Poor Justine's delight at her success (" I have made 
 all Paris rush to the theatre," she wrote to Favart) was 
 not of long duration. The Marshal returned from 
 Dresden " more in love with her than ever, notwith- 
 
 1 Colle, Journal et Memoircs (edit. 1868), i. 99. Colle, like Grimm, 
 shows himself very severe on Justine, whom almost all other contemporary 
 writers agree in representing as a charming woman and an actress of re- 
 markable talent. He describes her as " an impudent creature, without 
 intelligence or skill, who sings vaudevilles with repulsive indecency, and 
 dances with movements which seem suggestive and disgusting to persons 
 of the smallest delicacy."
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 253 
 
 standing all the reasons he had to complain of her." 
 According to Meusnier, it had been largely due to his 
 influence with the Gentlemen of the Chamber that the 
 difficulty in regard to her admission to the Comedie- 
 Italienne had been so speedily overcome ; but, when he 
 asked for his reward, the lady would have nothing to say 
 to him. " Far from showing the least sensibility of the 
 Marshal's kindness, she coldly informed him that she was 
 firmly resolved to live as an honest woman, and to labour 
 for her salvation. This last example of ingratitude and 
 bad faith confounded the Marshal." l 
 
 On September i Justine wrote to the fugitive at 
 Strasburg : 
 
 " The Marshal is still furious against me ; but I am 
 quite indifferent to that. He has just written a letter 
 to Bercaville (his secretary), wherein he charges him to 
 tell our mother (Madame Favart) that, if you come to 
 Paris, and if she has any affection for you, of which he 
 has no doubt,, she must send you away instantly ; and 
 that this counsel was a last mark of his kindness for her. 
 
 " That, as for Mile. Chantilly, she is deserving of no 
 consideration at his hands, a fact which ought not to 
 occasion you any vexation. 
 
 " Your friends are under the impression that you are 
 travelling in France for your own diversion. If you 
 wish it, I will consign my debut to all the devils and 
 set out at once to join you. Let me know your wishes, 
 and I will follow them implicitly. . . . The house is 
 always crowded on the nights on which I appear. I have 
 been playing the part of the dancer in Je ne sais quoi, 
 and of Fanchon in La Triomphe de rinttret. The ballet 
 
 1 Manuscrit trouve a la Bastille (1789) p. 8.
 
 254 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 of La Marmotte is still being played with success. Your 
 couplets are always received with applause. The duet 
 which I sing with Richard is also your work ; the mere 
 fact that it is yours ensures my singing it well. I am 
 threatened with much evil, but I laugh at it ; I will 
 come with all my heart to beg with you. 
 
 " I have just learned from your mother and sister 
 that the Marshal wishes to replace the little Riviere ; l 
 and, for that purpose, has sent word to me that he loves 
 me more than ever. Henceforth, it will be no longer 
 advisable for me to go and pay my court to him. 
 
 " If it be not possible for us to remain here, we will 
 go away and end our days tranquilly in some foreign 
 country. I am for ever your wife and sweetheart." 
 
 When this letter was written, Justine had been for 
 some weeks under strict surveillance. "On July 16, 
 1749," writes Meusnier, "I received orders to keep her 
 under observation, in such a way as to be able to render 
 an account of all her actions and movements, while the 
 Marshal, on his side, worked to thwart all her plans." 
 He then relates how he bribed a servant of the Favarts, 
 named Jacques, to keep watch and ward over his mistress 
 within doors, while he himself followed her when she 
 left the house. This kind of thing went on until the 
 beginning of September, apparently without much 
 result, and then the Marshal " brought another battery 
 into action." 
 
 We have mentioned that Justine's father, M. Duron- 
 
 ceray, had not been present at her marriage with Favart, 
 
 but had given his consent in writing. For the past two 
 
 years he had been confined as a dipsomaniac in the 
 
 1 Mile. Riviere, one of Maurice's numerous mistresses.
 
 JUSTINE FA V ART 255 
 
 convent of the Freres de la Charite, at Senlis, apparently 
 on the application of his daughter, against whom he was, 
 in consequence, much incensed. The Marshal now deter- 
 mined to make use of this unfortunate man for his own 
 ends, and, accordingly, obtained his release from the 
 convent at Sens and had him brought to Paris, where 
 he lost no time in seeking an interview with the 
 Lieutenant of Police and formally accusing his daughter 
 of having contracted an illegal marriage, inasmuch as 
 he had never given his consent to her union with Favart, 
 and the document purporting to contain it had been a 
 barefaced forgery. This, of course, was a very serious 
 offence indeed, and, supported by the Marshal, the worthy 
 M. Duronceray had no difficulty in obtaining a lettre de 
 cachet for the arrest and imprisonment of Justine, whose 
 fate was now entirely in the hands of her terrible 
 admirer. 
 
 The lettre de cachet was granted on September 3 ; 
 but it was not the Marshal's intention to allow it to be 
 executed at once. Three days later, the police-agent, 
 Meusnier, acting under his instructions, conducted the 
 unconscious instrument of his employer's villainy to a 
 cafe adjoining the Comedie-Italienne, where Justine was 
 at that moment performing. Here, having been well 
 primed with his favourite vintage, the wretched old man 
 proceeded to regale all whom he could persuade to listen 
 to him with a harrowing account of his daughter's 
 wickedness and the terrible things he had suffered at 
 her hands. Finally, he succeeded in working himself 
 into such a frenzy of indignation that he could with 
 difficulty be dissuaded from rushing into the theatre 
 and making a public demonstration against her. " This 
 manoeuvre," writes Meusnier cynically, "was merely
 
 256 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 intended to induce the public to believe that the 
 Marshal had no share in the coup which he was plan- 
 ning, namely, to cause the Chantilly to be shut up." 
 
 Next day, accompanied by a priest, who was well 
 known as a frequenter of the Jesuit College in the Rue 
 Saint- Jacques, M. Duronceray called upon the leading 
 members of the Comedie-Italienne, to whom he related 
 his sad experiences. Mile. Coraline, Justine's rival in 
 the affections of the public, was so touched by his 
 account of her colleague's perfidy that she could not 
 restrain her emotion, whereupon all who were present 
 followed her example, and the room resounded with 
 lamentations. 
 
 Justine would not appear to have been greatly dis- 
 concerted by the manoeuvres of M. Duronceray and his 
 sympathisers ; secure in the favour of a public always 
 very indulgent towards the moral shortcomings of its 
 idols, she probably felt that she could afford to ignore 
 the gossip of the coulisses. The Marshal, however, pre- 
 tending to have forgiven her for her recent rebuff, now 
 sent to warn her that her father was endeavouring to 
 obtain a lettre de cachet to have her shut up, and advised 
 her to leave Paris until the storm had blown over. His 
 object was to induce her to rejoin her husband, when 
 he intended to have them both arrested. In this, as 
 we shall see, he was only partially successful. 
 
 At the beginning of October, the troupe of the 
 Comedie-Italienne set out for Fontainebleau, to give 
 a series of performances before the Court. Justine 
 obtained leave of absence, and, having written to Favart 
 to meet her at Luneville, left Paris, on October 7, 
 accompanied by her sister-in-law, Marguerite Favart, 
 and followed, at a discreet interval, by Meusnier and
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 257 
 
 a detachment of police, with orders not to interfere 
 with the actress until they had secured the person of 
 her husband. The latter, however, succeeded in evading 
 them, in spite of all their vigilance, and they had to be 
 content with the rather barren honour of arresting poor 
 Justine ; which they did in a very ungallant manner, in the 
 middle of night, at her inn at Luneville, nearly frighten- 
 ing her and her sister-in-law to death in consequence. 
 
 Next morning Meusnier and his captives started for 
 Meaux, where the ladies were separated ; Marguerite 
 Favart being permitted to return to Paris, while Justine, 
 after being kept for some days at Meaux, was conducted 
 to the Ursuline convent at Les Grands-Andelys, on the 
 borders of Normandy. On October 20 she wrote to 
 her husband : 
 
 "They have brought me to the convent of Les 
 Grands-Andelys, to the Ursulines, situated twenty-two 
 leagues from Paris. I have seen the lettre de cachet; 
 it is my father who has caused me to be placed here. 
 Do not lose an instant ; send all our papers [i.e. the 
 papers connected with their marriage] to the Minister, 
 M. d'Argenson, and especially my father's consent, 
 signed with his own hand ; it is in the keeping of the 
 cure of Saint-Pierre-aux-Bceufs. Collect our witnesses, 
 and take them with you to the Minister. If it is my 
 father who is persecuting us in this manner, the truth 
 will be revealed, and we shall speedily have justice done 
 us. If this trouble is due to some of our enemies, they 
 may do as they please ; their influence may perhaps be 
 sufficient to separate us for life, but they can never 
 prevent us loving one another, nor break the sacred 
 and honourable tie which binds our hearts together. 
 
 R
 
 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 " I have just written to the Marechal de Saxe about 
 what has befallen us ; he has always shown much friend- 
 ship for us. I am sure that he will be willing to interest 
 himself in our affairs and render us assistance on this 
 occasion. 
 
 " P.S. Do not commit the folly of coming to seek 
 me here." 
 
 A week later, she writes again : 
 
 " I am in a good convent, where they pay me every 
 imaginable attention. Spare no pains to justify our 
 marriage with the Minister. You must write to M. de 
 Paumi ; l he can do us a service with my father. You 
 need not write to the Marechal de Saxe to ask his 
 protection ; he has rendered us too many services to 
 refuse to assist us on the present occasion. 
 
 " If I had wished, I might have escaped what has 
 befallen me ; I had only to accept the retreat which a 
 person 2 who warned me of the lettre de cachet obtained 
 against me offered me ; but I had no desire to do so." 
 
 A few days after the first of these letters was written, 
 Justine received a letter from the Marshal, in answer to 
 one which she had sent him from Commercy, on her way 
 to Luneville. In this he attributed her misfortunes to 
 the action of the leaders of the devots^ or devout party, 
 at the Court, who were always eager to punish persons 
 who contravened the marriage laws, and "did not easily 
 let go their prey." " Favart," he adds, " ought to feel 
 highly flattered that you should sacrifice for him fortune, 
 
 1 The Marquis de Paulmy, son of the Marquis d'Argenson, and 
 afterwards Minister for War. 
 
 2 Without doubt, Maurice de Saxe.
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 259 
 
 pleasure, glory, everything, in short, that might have 
 made the happiness of your life. I hope that he will 
 be able to compensate you for it, and that you will 
 never feel the sacrifice which you are making. . . . You 
 would not make my happiness and your own. Perhaps 
 you will make your own unhappiness and that of Favart. 
 I do not wish it, but I fear it. Farewell." 
 
 At the] same time, the hypocritical Marshal wrote to 
 the actress Mile. Fleury, who had exchanged the role of 
 mistress for that of confidante, expressing the grief he 
 felt on hearing of the arrest of the " little fairy," whom 
 he had " imagined out of danger." " How I pity that 
 poor mother [Madame Favart], who is a courageous and 
 sensible woman ! I have been her friend since the first 
 time I spoke to her. Tell her that I will do my best, 
 and as she and Favart have not a sou, beg her to accept 
 fifty louis, for which you will find an order enclosed. 
 That will help them for the present, and I promise them 
 assistance in every way for the future." He then declares 
 his opinion that the person responsible for the trouble is 
 the priest who had accompanied Justine's father on his 
 visits to the leading members of the ComMie-Italienne, 
 and that every effort should be made to discover him, if 
 necessary, by bribing Meusnier to reveal his whereabouts. 
 
 The money offered by the Marshal was refused by 
 Favart, nor could the old lady and her daughter be 
 prevailed upon to accept it. 
 
 Early in November, Justine was removed from Les 
 Grands-Andelys to a convent at Angers. Her new 
 residence was one of the regular convents de force^ or 
 houses of detention, where the most rigorous discipline 
 prevailed, and she was treated " like a State criminal." 
 This, as the worthy Marshal had of course foreseen,
 
 260 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 rendered her supremely miserable, and all the more 
 eager to recover her liberty. To do her justice, how- 
 ever, she would appear to have been far more exercised 
 over the fate of her husband and his mother and sister, 
 left, through his misfortune, almost entirely without 
 resources, than over her own troubles ; for, on Novem- 
 ber 6, we find Maurice writing from Chambord : 
 
 " The great attachment that you entertain for Favart 
 and his relatives is very praiseworthy ; but I doubt 
 whether it is advisable to manifest it so clearly, since 
 it is certain that it is this same great attachment which 
 has placed you in the vexatious position in which you 
 now find yourself. I leave to your good sense to judge 
 of the value of what I take the liberty of observing in 
 regard to this matter. . . . What is certain, is that he 
 has not been arrested, and that he is well, and that none 
 of his relatives are in danger of dying, as you appear to 
 fear. They are all very tranquil, and have not taken 
 any steps to secure your liberation. I do not com- 
 prehend their reasons." 
 
 As time went on, the captive became a prey to the 
 deepest despair. '* Life is a burden to me ; I loathe 
 it," she writes to Maurice, dating her letter " December 
 4Oth," doubtless to express more forcibly the length and 
 dreariness of her days. " I desire to die, in order that 
 every one may be satisfied ; I am living in a state of 
 despair. Never can I recover from the blow that has 
 brought all this upon me." 
 
 On his side, the Marshal advised patience, assuring 
 her that he was doing everything in his power to procure 
 her release, but that the difficulties with which he had to 
 contend were very great, inasmuch as it appeared that
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 261 
 
 her father had acted at the instigation of a band of 
 religious fanatics, whose names he had not yet been 
 able to ascertain. If he could find M. Duronceray, 
 he might wring the truth from him, but, unfortunately, 
 up to the present, all attempts to discover his where- 
 abouts had proved fruitless. M. Duronceray, it may 
 be mentioned, was at this time at Ormeaux, near 
 Vincennes, in charge of one of Maurice's agents ! 
 
 In the same letter, he tells her that Favart the poor 
 man was then hiding in a cellar in the house of a village 
 priest in Lorraine had paid a visit to Paris, and been 
 seen by several persons ; that he was informed that no 
 steps would be taken against him by the police, so long 
 as he remained quiet, and that he had appeared very 
 far from inconsolable at his wife's captivity : " The 
 race of poets does not take things so much to heart. 
 Voltaire has produced two tragedies since the death of 
 Madame du Chatelet, though it was said that he was 
 dead also, because he was believed to be much attached 
 to that lady. But to die, malpeste ! an author's feelings 
 do not carry him as far as that : they are too familiar 
 with fiction to love reality up to that point." x 
 
 At length, about the middle of December, when the 
 Marshal considered that his victim had had enough of 
 conventual life to induce her to become amenable to 
 reason, he informed her that, thanks to his untiring 
 efforts on her behalf, she would, in all probability, be 
 shortly released and exiled a certain distance from Paris. 
 He was as yet, he said, in ignorance of the place to which 
 she was to be sent, but was hopeful that it would be 
 within easy distance of the capital, so that he might be 
 
 1 Letter of December 6, 1749 ; Manuscrit trouve a la Bastille, p. 36 
 et seq.
 
 262 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 able to assist her " de toutes les choses agreables et utiles" 
 Justine, overjoyed at the prospect of a speedy end to 
 her captivity, replied, begging him " in God's name not 
 to deceive her," and declaring that she was suffering 
 torments from uncertainty. " I await news from day to 
 day with the utmost impatience since you have given me 
 hope of being able to leave this villainous house. Every 
 time that the bell rings, I have terrible palpitation of the 
 heart. I believe that it is some one come to fetch me. 
 I bound to the door, and, when I find that it is not I 
 whom they seek, I return, covered with confusion, to 
 shut myself up in my little cell and weep, like a little 
 child who has been beaten for ten or twelve days. 
 That is the life I am leading. When I leave here, 
 1 shall imagine that I am seeing daylight for the first 
 time. I do not thank you for all your kindness, nor for 
 all the obligations under which you have placed me ; 
 they are numberless, and I should never make an end. 
 I know that you do not care for compliments, and I 
 will therefore merely tell you that, so long as I live, I 
 shall use every endeavour to prove to you my gratitude 
 and appreciation of all that you are doing for us. 
 Monseigneur, I implore you in mercy to take me from 
 this place ; you will be performing a work of mercy 
 in releasing a poor little prisoner who has never deserved 
 to be one. I eagerly await this good news from you." 
 
 In the closing days of the year, Justine received 
 another letter from the Marshal, written from his 
 chateau at Piples, near Boissy-Saint-Leger, in which 
 he informed her that orders had been given for her 
 release, and only awaited the signature of the Comte 
 d'Argenson, the Minister for Paris, who was, at that 
 moment, too ill to attend to any matters not of the
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 263 
 
 first importance. The letter concluded with the follow- 
 ing very significant words, in a woman's handwriting, 
 probably that of the Marshal's ex-mistress and con- 
 fidante, Mile. Fleury : " Your friends do not forget 
 you, my dear Jantillesse, 1 and love you always ; but, 
 in God's name, become reasonable ; think of your 
 own happiness and that of those dear to you." 
 
 On the other hand, Justine's sister-in-law, Marguerite 
 Favart, who had evidently discovered the secret of the 
 persecution which the luckless couple were undergoing, 
 wrote to the captive, apparently in answer to a letter 
 from Angers, entreating her to be firm, and to refuse 
 to purchase liberty at the price which would no doubt 
 be set upon it : 
 
 " If you think, as you show you do, my dear sister- 
 in-law, I do not see how you can hesitate as to the course 
 you ought to take, since you are in a position to do as 
 you please. It was not necessary to ask the advice 
 of my brother. You ought to know him well enough 
 to be sure that he would not give you any counsel 
 different from that which he has always given. He 
 knows of no arrangement that can be made with infamy ; 
 the most cruel punishments would not terrify him, nor 
 could he be seduced by the most brilliant advantages. 
 He escaped, for a time, from the rest of the evils pre- 
 pared for him, and did not do so for his own sake. 
 The loss of you had rendered his life odious to him ; 
 but he yielded to our alarms ; he feared the despair of 
 a mother and a sister already afflicted by the misfortunes 
 which had overtaken him. His son, ourselves, and 
 
 1 Allusion to Justine's stage name of Chantilly, which the Marshal 
 spelt Jantilly.
 
 264 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 yourself are the only objects of his hopes and fears. 
 That is all that can interest him now. He has lost, 
 through these continual persecutions, his friends, his 
 protectors, his property, his talents, his health, and 
 all his resources. Nevertheless, he will consider all 
 atoned for when he finds in you sentiments worthy 
 of him. He does not ask to be their object : honour 
 alone must determine you. Content with loving you, 
 he demands nothing in return ; knowing, by sad ex- 
 perience, that the heart is not to be commanded. 
 If it be true that you have been detained by force, 
 now that you are free, you will find with us a poor 
 but honourable asylum. Although everything has been 
 done to cast upon my brother and upon us part of 
 the disgrace in which you have been immersed, no 
 one has been deceived, save ill-informed or ignorant 
 persons. Our poverty, our sufferings, justify us in 
 the eyes of sensible people ; for which reason our con- 
 dition has become dear to us : by contenting your- 
 self with it, you can justify yourself also. Such are 
 the sentiments of my brother and ourselves. I inform 
 you of them by my mother's orders. Adieu, my good 
 friend ; your affectionate sister embraces and awaits 
 you. Adieu." 
 
 Several historians are of opinion that Justine followed 
 her sister-in-law's advice, and that Maurice, in despair 
 of bending her to his will, placed no further obstacles 
 in the way of her release. Such, unfortunately, was not 
 the case. Early in January 1750, the actress was released 
 from the convent at Angers, and exiled to Issoudun, in 
 Berri. On February 10, she obtained permission from 
 
 1 Cited by Desnoiresterres, Epicuriens et /ettres, p. 253.
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 265 
 
 Berryer, the Lieutenant of Police, to absent herself for 
 a month from her place of exile, a permission which was 
 renewed at the expiration of that period. Where did 
 she spend the time ? The answer is to be found in the 
 report of Meusnier : 
 
 " But as M. de Loewdahi [Marshal Lowendal, the 
 lieutenant and friend of Maurice] is visiting the Marquis 
 de Castelnau in the vicinity of Issoudun, the Marshal 
 has caused the Chantilly to be sent to Chambord, and 
 thence to Piples, where she has been about six weeks, 
 under the charge of Mouret, wife of the concierge of 
 Chambord." x 
 
 The evidence of Meusnier is confirmed by the Abbe 
 de Voisenon, than whom no one was better acquainted 
 with the private affairs of the Favarts : 
 
 " The Marshal, angered by her resistance, caused her 
 to be carried off, and threatened to have Favart killed, 
 if she refused to surrender herself to him. She was 
 terrified, and, through love for her husband, was un- 
 faithful to him. . . . The Marshal died ; and, as the 
 Chantiily mingled with the favours that were snatched 
 from her the most cruel reproaches, she scarcely obtained 
 any advantage besides her freedom." 
 
 Towards the end of the following June, the lettres 
 de cachet against Justine and her husband were revoked, 
 and they were permitted to return to Paris. Poor 
 Favart had been reduced to terrible straits. Almost 
 penniless and firmly convinced that all the police in 
 the realm were at his heels, he had for some months 
 past, as we have mentioned, been hiding in a cellar in 
 the house of a compassionate village priest in Lorraine, 
 
 1 Manuscrit trouve a la Bastille (1789), p. 15. 
 
 2 (Euvret de f Abbe de V^non (edit. 1781), iv. 70.
 
 266 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 earning a precarious livelihood by painting fans by the 
 light of a lamp. The cruel treatment he had received 
 had impaired his health and broken his spirit, and he 
 received the news that his trials were at an end with 
 feelings of positive indifference. " It seems," wrote he 
 to a friend who had sheltered him at Strasburg, " that 
 they are tired of persecuting me ; my exile is over, but 
 I am none the happier for that ; my sorrows are of a 
 kind that can end only with my life." 
 
 Three months after this letter was written (November 
 30, 1750), Maurice de Saxe died at Chambord, 1 and 
 poor Favart could breathe freely once more. The poet 
 might have been pardoned had he sought consolation 
 for his sufferings in some biting epigram at the expense 
 of the man who had wronged him so cruelly. But his 
 kindly and inoffensive nature was incapable of malice, 
 and he behaved with a moderation almost amounting to 
 magnanimity. " I think," he wrote to one of his friends, 
 " that 1 may be allowed to say on the death of this 
 illustrious man of war, what the father of our theatre 
 said of Cardinal de Richelieu : 
 
 " Qu'on parle bien ou mal du fameux marchal, 
 Ma prose ni mes vers n'en diront jamais rien : 
 II m^a fait trop de bien pour en dire du mal ; 
 II nVa fait de mal pour en dire du bien." 
 
 The Marshal was dead, but his death could not 
 undo the evil he had done. Favart, who had loved his 
 wife with all the strength of his nature, was generous 
 
 1 According to the official version, of a malignant fever : according 
 to local rumour, of wounds received in a duel with the Prince de Conti, 
 with whom he had a long-standing quarrel. The Marshal's biographer, 
 M. Saint- Rene Taillandier, inclines, we observe, to the latter view; but 
 the evidence he adduces does not seem to us altogether satisfactory.
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 267 
 
 enough to pardon a past in which circumstances had 
 been so terribly against her. Instead of reproaching her, 
 he preferred to forget, and in so doing acted wisely ; 
 for in Justine, as long as she lived, he found a devoted 
 friend and a sure counsellor, on whose sympathy and 
 advice he was always able to rely, and a companion 
 whose irrepressible gaiety was proof against all the 
 troubles and anxieties of both family and professional 
 life. But his generosity went no further. If friendship 
 had survived [Justine's last infidelity, love had not. " Fly 
 from love as from the greatest of all evils," he wrote 
 to his friend at Strasburg ; and, incredible as it may 
 appear, when, not long afterwards, Justine, piqued, we 
 may presume, by her husband's indifference, formed a 
 liaison with the eccentric little Abbe de Voisenon, Favart's 
 friend and reputed collaborator, the poet this man 
 whom we have seen prefer persecution, exile, and misery 
 to dishonour so far from endeavouring to put a stop 
 to an affair which amounted to a serious scandal, appears 
 to have regarded it with the utmost complacency. 
 
 The removal of their persecutor left the Favarts free 
 to resume their respective professions, and, on May 3, 
 1751, Justine reappeared on the stage of the Comedie- 
 Italienne, in a piece entitled Les Amants inquiets, of which 
 her husband was the author. At the beginning of the 
 following year, on the death of Riccoboni's wife, she 
 was allotted a full part in the company, to which she 
 remained a tower of strength for nearly twenty years ; 
 her talents as an actress and a singer being rivalled by 
 those which she displayed as a dancer, " turning the 
 heads of the public and securing even the support of the
 
 268 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 women." Her versatility seems to have been truly 
 amazing. " Soubrettes, heroines, country girls, simple 
 parts, character parts, all became her," says Favart in 
 his Memoires ; " in a word, she multiplied herself in- 
 definitely, and one was astonished to see her play the 
 same day, in four different pieces, parts of the most 
 opposite character." Her powers of mimicry, too, 
 particularly of the different dialects of France, have 
 seldom been surpassed. Provincials whose accents she 
 had borrowed could with difficulty be persuaded that 
 she did not come from the same part of the country 
 as themselves. 
 
 Possessed of exquisite taste in theatrical matters, 
 Justine laboured strenuously for a reform in stage 
 costume, and was " not afraid to sacrifice the charms 
 of her countenance to truthfulness of representation." 
 Before her time, actresses who played the parts of 
 soubrettes and peasant-girls wore immense paniers, with 
 diamonds in their hair and long gloves reaching to the 
 elbow. But when, in August 1753, she created the role 
 of Bastienne in Les Amours de Bastien et Bastienne, a 
 parody of Jean Jacques Rousseau's Devin du village, 
 which she had composed herself in collaboration with 
 Harny, she appeared on the stage wearing a simple 
 woollen gown, with her hair flat on her head, a cross of 
 gold on her neck, bare arms, and wooden shoes. The 
 sabots offended some critics in the pit, and murmurs of 
 disapprobation were heard. The Abbe de Voisenon, how- 
 ever, saved the situation by a happy mot. " Messieurs" he 
 cried, " ces sabots-la donneront des souliers aux comediem" 
 The pit, appreciating the abbe's wit, broke into laughter 
 and applause ; the malcontents were silenced, and the 
 piece had so great a vogue that the players grew tired
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 269 
 
 of acting it long before the attendances showed any 
 signs of diminishing. 1 
 
 Justine, indeed, neglected nothing to arrive at 
 theatrical truth. In Les Trois Sultanes, the plot of 
 which was derived, like several other of Favart's vaude- 
 villes, from the Contes moraux of Marmontel, she played 
 the part of Roxelane in a dress " made at Constantinople 
 with the materials of the country." This was the first 
 occasion on which the costume of Turkish ladies had 
 been seen upon the French stage, and though Favart 
 himself declares that it was " at once decent and volup- 
 tuous," it was objected to ; and when soon afterwards 
 another play in which the action passed in the Orient 
 was represented before the Court, Justine's reforming 
 zeal received an abrupt check by an order from the 
 Gentlemen of the Chamber to confine herself to 
 the ridiculous and fantastic costume established by 
 custom. 
 
 Les Trois Sultanes^ it may be mentioned, in spite 
 of the unfavourable comments passed upon Roxelane's 
 attire, was extraordinarily successful ; and the audience, 
 we are assured, were transported with enthusiasm. A 
 peasant in the pit, " rendu fou d'admiration" demanded 
 of his neighbour the name of the author, and on being 
 told that it was Favart, exclaimed : " Morbleu ! I would 
 that I had that man here ; I would embrace him until 
 I had kissed the skin off his cheeks ! " 
 
 Justine's passion for local colour was again in evidence 
 when the interlude called Les Chinois was represented. 
 "She appeared, as did also the other actors, dressed 
 exactly in the Chinese fashion. The dresses which she 
 had procured had been made in China, while the designs 
 
 1 Compardon, Les Comediens du Roi de la Troupe itallenne, ii. 210.
 
 270 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 for the scenery and properties had in like manner been 
 made on the spot." 
 
 Among other pieces in which Justine appeared with 
 success may be mentioned La Servants Mditresse, Ninette 
 a la Cour, Annette^et Lubin, of which she herself was part- 
 author, Les Moissonneurs, and La Fee Urgele, " in which," 
 says Voisenon, " she played the part of the old woman 
 in a manner impossible to imitate." According to the 
 same authority, Favart was largely indebted for the 
 success of more than one of his productions to sugges- 
 tions made by his wife, notably in Ninette a la Cour, in 
 which, too, she was responsible for many of the airs. 
 
 It would perhaps have been better for Justine's 
 professional reputation had circumstances compelled her 
 to retire from the stage some time earlier than was the 
 case. During her later years, the critics declared that 
 her voice had become thin and disagreeable, and that 
 her acting had lost the naivete 1 which had been its 
 principal charm. She had become, too, extremely stout, 
 and Madame Necker, then Mile. Churchod, writing, in 
 1764, to Madame de Brenles, mentions that she had 
 seen her playing Annette, "with a figure twelve feet 
 broad and two high." 1 The public were more indul- 
 gent than the critics; but on December 14, 1769, 
 when she appeared in a vaudeville by her husband 
 called La Rosiere de Salency, she was very coldly received. 
 The poor actress, believing herself abandoned by the 
 public whose idol she had so long been, and suffering 
 already from the disease of which she eventually died, 
 played from that time less frequently, and, at the end of 
 the year 1771, ceased to appear altogether. On Twelfth- 
 day she was compelled to take to her bed, and sent for 
 
 1 Desnoiresterres, p\cunens et Lettrcs, p. 315.
 
 JUSTINE FAVART 271 
 
 the notaries to make her will. She lingered for four 
 months, enduring terrible sufferings, during which she 
 continued to occupy herself with the management of 
 her household, while her gaiety and insouciance never 
 failed her for a single moment. " One day," says 
 Grimm, " on recovering from a long swoon, she per- 
 ceived, among those whom her danger had hurriedly 
 assembled around her, one of her neighbours rather 
 grotesquely attired, whereupon she began to smile and 
 remarked that she believed she saw ' the clown of 
 Death ' ; a characteristic mot in the mouth of a dying 
 girl of the theatre." 
 
 Almost to the last Justine seems to have cherished 
 a vague hope that she would ultimately recover, and, 
 for a long time, refused to pronounce the renunciation 
 of her profession which the cure of her parish demanded, 
 according to custom, before administering the last Sacra- 
 ments. Nor was it until, through the influence of 
 Voisenon, she had obtained a promise from the Gentle- 
 men of the Chamber that her salary should be preserved 
 to her, under the form of a pension, in case of retirement, 
 that she yielded, and exclaimed, smiling : " Oh ! for 
 the moment, I renounce it." She then received the 
 Sacraments and, profiting by a short respite from pain, 
 composed her own epitaph, which she set to music. 
 She died on April 21, 1772, at four o'clock in the 
 morning, in her forty-sixth year, and was buried the 
 same day in the church of Saint-Eustache. 
 
 Favart survived his talented wife just twenty years, 
 and died in May 1792. Towards the end of his life, 
 he became almost blind, notwithstanding which he con- 
 tinued to work for the theatre, besides keeping up an 
 active correspondence with the Italian dramatist Goldoni,
 
 272 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 who came to Paris to visit him in 1791. The most 
 successful of his later pieces was La Belle Arsene, music 
 by Monsigny, produced in 1775. 
 
 Of his children by Justine, the only one to call for 
 notice here is his second son, Charles Nicolas Joseph 
 Favart. Born in 1749, at the age of twenty-one he was 
 admitted a sodetaire of the Comedie-Fran9aise, where he 
 remained for fifteen years. Though but a moderate 
 actor, he was a successful dramatist ; his best works 
 were Le Diable boileux, ou la Chose impossible (1782) ; Les 
 Trots Folies (1786); Le Mariage singulier (1787) ; and 
 La yieillesse a" Annette et Lubin (1791), the last in colla- 
 boration with his father. His son, Antoine Pierre 
 Charles Favart (1780-1867), entered the Diplomatic 
 Service, where he gained some little distinction. He 
 assisted Dumolard in editing the Memoires of his grand- 
 father, collaborated in a couple of plays, and was an 
 amateur painter of some talent.
 
 VI 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 
 
 273
 
 VI 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 
 
 FOR more than seven years after the death of Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur, her place as a tragic actress remained unfilled. 
 During these years, several capable tragediennes appeared, 
 notably Jeanne Gaussin, a beautiful brunette with a rich 
 and sympathetic voice, who created the part of Zafre in 
 Voltaire's tragedy of that name (August 13, 1732), and 
 moved the delighted poet to address her in the following 
 verses : 
 
 " Jeanne Gaussin, recois mon tendre hommage ; 
 Recois mes vers au theatre applaudis ; 
 Protege-les : Zaire est ton ouvrage ; 
 II est a toi, puisque tu 1'embellis. 
 Ce sont tes yeux, ces yeux, si pleins de charmes, 
 Qui du critique ont fait tomber les armes." l 
 
 But beautiful as Mile. Gaussin undoubtedly was, and 
 excellent as was her acting in Za'fre and other pathetic 
 parts, she fell very far short of the standard to which 
 her gifted predecessor had attained ; nor was it until 
 August 1737 that an actress worthy to assume the 
 mantle of Adrienne arose. 
 
 This was Marie Fran9oise Dumesnil, who, like 
 Adrienne, had begun her career at theatres in the East 
 of France, and, like her, singularly enough, had received 
 her invitation to Paris while playing at Strasburg. Her 
 style, which was marked by a high degree of truth to 
 
 1 Cited by Gueullette, Acteurs et Actnces du Temps passe, p. 260.
 
 276 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Nature, refinement, and technical skill, combined with 
 a real enthusiasm for her art, excited general admiration, 
 and her d&but was brilliantly successful. In the classic 
 repertoire her most celebrated roles were C16opatre, 
 Clytemnestre, and Phedre ; while her most successful 
 creation was MeYope (February 20, 1743), when, ac- 
 cording to Voltaire, she kept the audience in tears for 
 three successive acts. 1 
 
 After this triumph the greatest of her career it may 
 well have been supposed that Mile. Dumesnil was des- 
 tined to maintain her supremacy for many years to come. 
 Nevertheless, ere six months had passed, she found her 
 proud position challenged by a most formidable rival. 
 
 Claire Joseph Lerys for that was the name of this 
 rival, and of the greatest, or, at least, the most celebrated 
 tragic actress of the eighteenth century, though she 
 styled herself Claire Jostyhe Hippolyte Lerys de Latude- 
 Clairori) and is known to fame under the last of these 
 names was born at Cond6, a little town of Hainaut, on 
 January 25, 1723. Her father was one Fran9ois Joseph 
 Desir6 Lerys, a sergeant in the Regiment de Mailly ; 
 her mother, a working-woman, Marie Claire Scanapiecq 
 by name ; and she was a natural child, a fact which she 
 omits to mention in the French edition of her Mdmoires, 
 though she is more candid in the German edition. 2 
 
 The circumstances attending her birth, which she 
 has herself recounted, were, it must be admitted, highly 
 significant of her future career : 
 
 " It was the custom of the little town in which I 
 was born for all persons to assemble during the carnival 
 time at the houses of the wealthiest citizens, in order to 
 
 1 Hawkins, "The French Stage in the Eighteenth Century," i. 355. 
 
 2 Edmund de Goncourt, Mademoiselle Clairon, p. 4.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 277 
 
 pass the entire day in dancing and other amusements. 
 Far from disapproving of these recreations, the cure 
 partook of them and travestied himself with the rest. 
 During one of the fte days, my mother, who was but 
 seven months advanced in pregnancy, suddenly brought 
 me into the world, between two and three o'clock in the 
 afternoon. I was so feeble that every one imagined a 
 few moments would terminate my career. My grand- 
 mother, a woman of eminent piety, was anxious that 
 I should be carried out at once to the church, in order 
 that I might there receive the rite of baptism. Not 
 a living soul was to be discovered either at the church or 
 at the cure's house. A neighbour having informed the 
 party that all the town was at a carnival entertainment 
 at the house of a certain wealthy citizen, thither was I 
 carried with all expedition. Monsieur le Cure, attired 
 as Arlequin, and his vicar, disguised as Gille, imagining, 
 from my appearance, that there was not a moment to be 
 lost, hurriedly arranged upon a sideboard everything neces- 
 sary for the ceremony, stopped the fiddle for a moment, 
 muttered over me the consecrated words, and sent me 
 back to my mother a Christian at least in name." l 
 
 When the little girl was twelve years old, she and 
 her mother left Conde, and, after a short stay at Valen- 
 ciennes, settled in Paris, where the latter found employ- 
 ment as a sempstress. The future queen of tragedy was 
 at this time, according to her own account, a delicate, 
 sensitive child, with a confirmed dislike to needlework, 
 in consequence of which she spent the greater part of 
 her days " trembling beneath the blows and threats of 
 her mother," whom she describes, rather undutifully, as 
 " a violent, ignorant, and superstitious woman." 
 
 1 Memoircs de Mademoiselle C/airon (edit. 1799), p. 235.
 
 278 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 However, at length Fate took pity on her. Her 
 mother, yielding to the remonstrances of the neighbours, 
 who had been " affected by the appearance of languor to 
 which her misfortunes had reduced her, and her beauty, 
 voice, intelligence, and the sweetness of her temper 
 when she was not forced to work at the needle," ceased 
 to belabour her, and, by way of punishment, took to 
 shutting her up in a room overlooking the street. 
 Now, it happened that the house immediately opposite 
 the Scanapiecqs was occupied by the mother of Mile. 
 Dangeville, the famous soubrette of the Comedie-Fran- 
 9aise, and, one day, little Claire, having mounted a chair 
 to survey the neighbourhood, beheld the idol of the pit 
 taking a dancing-lesson in the midst of an admiring 
 circle of relatives and friends. " She was distinguished," 
 she tells us, " for every charm which Nature and youth 
 could unite in the same person. My very being came 
 into my eyes ; not one of her movements escaped me. 
 She was surrounded by her family, and when the lesson 
 was over, every one applauded her, while her mother 
 embraced her. The difference between her condition 
 and my own penetrated me with the deepest grief; my 
 tears would not permit me to see anything more. I 
 descended from my chair, and, when the throbbing of my 
 heart had subsided sufficiently for me to remount it, all 
 had disappeared." l 
 
 From that day, little Claire had only one desire : to be 
 placed en penitence at the hour at which Mile. Dangeville 
 was in the habit of taking her lesson ; and, the moment 
 she was alone, she would climb to her perch and remain 
 there, a motionless and silent, but enthusiastic spectator 
 of the movements of her fair neighbour. Soon, at first 
 
 1 Memoircs de Mademoiselle C/airon, p. 1 66 et seq.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 279 
 
 almost unconsciously, the girl began to imitate what she 
 had seen, and with such success that those who came to 
 her mother's house thought that she had been provided 
 with masters. " My manner of entering a room," she 
 says, " of saluting the company, of seating myself, was 
 no longer the same ; and the improvement I had ac- 
 quired, added to the graces of my deportment, obtained 
 for me even the favour of my mother." 
 
 At length, unable any longer to keep her secret to 
 herself, and seized with an intense curiosity to ascertain 
 who this wonderful Mile. Dangeville might be, she 
 decided to take into her confidence one of her mother's 
 friends, who had always treated her a little less as a child 
 than the majority of visitors to the house. This proved 
 a fortunate step, for the person in question, pleased with 
 the little girl's intelligence, not only gave her a good 
 deal of information about Mile. Dangeville and the pro- 
 fession which she adorned, but obtained from her mother 
 not without considerable difficulty, for the sempstress 
 " saw in theatrical performances only the road to eternal 
 damnation " permission to take her to the Comedie- 
 Fran9aise to witness a representation of the Comte # Essex 
 and Les Folies amoureuses. 
 
 Mile. Clairon, in her Mtmoires, confesses her inability 
 to give any account of that never-to-be-forgotten evening. 
 She only recollects that, during the whole of the per- 
 formance, her absorption was such as to prevent her 
 uttering a single word, and that, on returning home, she 
 neither saw nor heard any one. Angrily dismissed to 
 her room by her mother, instead of going to sleep, she 
 spent the whole night in recalling and repeating every- 
 thing that had been said by the performers at the 
 theatre, and every one was astonished the next day tc
 
 280 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 hear her repeat, with scarcely a mistake, a hundred 
 verses of the tragedy and two-thirds of the after-piece. 
 But this feat of memory was less surprising than the 
 extraordinary way in which the little girl had contrived 
 to assimilate the peculiarities of every actor whom she 
 had seen. She lisped like Grandval, she stammered like 
 Poisson, she mimicked to a nicety the coquettish airs of 
 Mile. Dangeville, and the cold and dignified manner 
 of Mile. Balicourt ; l in short, she tells us, she was 
 looked upon as a prodigy by every one, save her mother, 
 who, frowning angrily, declared that she would rather 
 see her make a gown or a petticoat than waste her time 
 over such unprofitable nonsense. Claire, however, forti- 
 fied by the praises which she had received, boldly de- 
 clared her intention of becoming an actress, and, when 
 the enraged sempstress threatened to starve her into 
 submission, or " break her arms and legs," retorted, 
 with the air of a tragedy queen : " Ah, well ! you had 
 better kill me at once, since otherwise I am determined 
 to go upon the stage." 
 
 Marie Scanapiecq did not, it is hardly necessary to 
 remark, attempt to put her threats into execution ; 
 nevertheless, for some two months, she subjected her 
 unfortunate little daughter to a course of such rigorous 
 discipline, in the hope of breaking her spirit, that 
 Claire's health became seriously affected. Then the 
 stern mother began to relent, and, on the advice of one 
 of her customers, to whom she had confided her trouble, 
 finally decided to let the girl have her way, and took 
 
 1 Mile. Balicourt played queens and princesses, and had probably 
 impersonated the Queen Elizabeth of Thomas Corneille's play on the 
 evening when Clairon visited the Comedie. She made her debut in 
 1727, and retired in 1738, on account of ill-health.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 281 
 
 her to see the lady in question, who had promised to 
 use her influence to further her ambitions. The lady 
 presented Claire to Desheys, a prominent actor of the 
 Comedie-Italienne, who was so favourably impressed with 
 the little aspirant's abilities that he presented her, in 
 his turn, to his colleagues, and, after a course of instruc- 
 tion in dancing and music, she made her debut at the 
 " Italians" on January 8, 1736, in a small part in Mari- 
 vaux's Isle des Esclaves, under the name of Clairon, a 
 variation of her Christian name of Claire. 
 
 Although not yet thirteen, she appears to have 
 acquitted herself with credit, while the progress she made 
 in her profession was remarkable. " My industry, my 
 enthusiasm, my memory," says the actress, " confounded 
 my instructors. I retained everything, I devoured every- 
 thing." Nevertheless, whether on account of her youth, 
 her diminutive stature she was very short, even for her 
 age or, more probably, because her precocious talents 
 had excited the apprehensions of the famous Arlequin, 
 Thomassin, who had daughters of his own to bring for- 
 ward, she did not remain long at the Comedie-Italienne, 
 and, at the end of a year, found herself obliged to seek 
 her fortune in the provinces. 
 
 It was to Rouen that she went Rouen, the nursery 
 of the Paris theatres Rouen, which had witnessed the 
 first efforts of Marie dc Champmesle, whose triumphs 
 in tragedy this young girl was one day to eclipse. The 
 principal theatre there was at this time under the joint- 
 management of La Noue, author of La Coquette corrigee^ 
 and Mile. Gautier, both, in after years, prominent mem- 
 bers of the Comedie-Fran9aise ; and Mile. Clairon was 
 engaged to dance in the ballet, sing in comic opera, and 
 act in a few parts suited to her age, at a salary of
 
 282 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 100 pistoles, or about 1000 livres. As some compen- 
 sation for this meagre remuneration, Marie Scanapiecq, 
 who had accompanied her daughter, and whose views 
 with regard to the morality of dramatic performances 
 had undergone a most surprising alteration since she 
 had discovered that there was money to be made, was 
 installed superintendent of the box-office. 
 
 At Rouen, little Clairon soon became a general 
 favourite, and improved so rapidly in her acting that, by 
 the time she was sixteen, she was pronounced to be the 
 most charming soubrette the Norman capital had ever 
 possessed. The Rouen ladies were very far from sharing 
 the prejudices of most provincial dames, who believed 
 themselves degraded if they so much as spoke to an 
 actress, and the girl was invited everywhere. A certain 
 Madame de Bimorel, wife of a president of the Parlia- 
 ment of Normandy, and an old flame of the poet 
 Fontenelle, was particularly kind, and remained her firm 
 friend for more than forty years. 
 
 A gay town was Rouen in those days ; a place where 
 a young and pretty actress could count on receiving 
 almost as much admiration as in the capital itself. At 
 the theatre they still talked of the cause ctttbre arising 
 out of an affray between the Marquis de Cony and the 
 President de Folleville, which had taken place some 
 years before ; how the marquis, encountering the presi- 
 dent at the house of a certain danseuse whose heart 
 he had until that moment fondly imagined to be his 
 alone, had addressed him by an opprobrious name ; how 
 the president had retorted by a blow directed at the nose 
 of the marquis, and how the infuriated nobleman had 
 thereupon thrown his adversary into the fireplace, with 
 such violence as to incapacitate him from administering
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 283 
 
 justice for many a long day to come. Whence arose the 
 lawsuit in question, bringing with it much glory and 
 fame for the damsel who had been the cause of the 
 dispute and the profession in general. 
 
 As was only to be expected, the charming imper- 
 sonator of soubrettes had no lack of adorers, and she is 
 reported to have been not altogether insensible to the 
 devotion of a M. du Rouvray, a handsome youth of 
 good family, whom she met at Madame de Bimorel's 
 house, and to the more business-like attentions of a cer- 
 tain rich merchant, named Dubuisson. She had also a 
 third soupirant, whose passion was to occasion her much 
 tribulation. 
 
 Following the example of many actresses' mothers 
 at this period, Marie Scanapiecq, " whose rigid morals," 
 says her dutiful daughter, " were now discarded for 
 gaiety and pleasure, and who spoke of her former mode 
 of life with derision," had converted her house at Rouen 
 into a kind of pension, where gambling and even more 
 questionable practices were freely permitted, if not 
 actually encouraged. Among those who frequented the 
 establishment was an actor named Gaillard de la Bataille, 
 " a poor, rather amusing devil," who possessed that 
 almost indispensable qualification for a vainqueur de dames 
 in the eighteenth century, the art of celebrating their 
 charms in verse. To Mile. Clairon he consecrated his 
 muse, and every day chanted her praises in couplet or in 
 quatrain, wherein he vowed that Venus and Vesta were 
 unworthy to be compared with this adorable, this divine 
 young actress. But alas ! he was not content with this 
 innocent homage ; he dared to love her, " and all the 
 while that he extolled her charms and her virtue, plotted 
 to possess himself of the first and to destroy the other."
 
 284 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 One summer morning, when her mother happened to 
 be away from home, Mile. Clairon was studying her part 
 in bed, all unconscious of evil. Suddenly the door flew 
 open, and her lovelorn poet, who had bribed one of the 
 servants of the house to admit him, appeared upon the 
 threshold, and, casting himself on his knees before her, 
 besought her, in impassioned accents, to reciprocate the 
 flame which was devouring him. His divinity's only 
 response to this appeal was to call loudly for assistance ; 
 servants and lodgers, alarmed by her cries, were quickly 
 on the scene, and " with brooms and shovels drove the 
 wretch into the street." " When my mother returned 
 home," continues the actress, " it was resolved that we 
 should lodge a complaint against him ; he was repri- 
 manded by the magistrate, had ballads made about him, 
 and was for ever banished our house. But rage suc- 
 ceeded to his love and his desires, and he composed 
 that atrocious libel which has been read all over 
 Europe." 
 
 Gaillard did indeed take a cruel revenge for the 
 ignominious treatment he had received, for his pamphlet, 
 which was entitled Histoire de Mademoiselle Cronel, dite 
 Fretillon, actrice de la Comedie de Rouen, ecrite par elle- 
 meme^ aided by the subsequent celebrity of its victim, 
 ran through several editions, and the sobriquet " Fr6- 
 tillon " stuck to her for life. Mile. Clairon was at 
 Havre when the libel appeared, and " her anguish was 
 beyond all power of expression." She returned to 
 Rouen in fear and trembling, " imagining that every 
 door would be barred against her, and not daring to 
 look any one in the face." However, the play-loving 
 Rouennais, who were very indulgent towards the moral 
 failings of the ladies of the theatre, appear to have been
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 285 
 
 more diverted than scandalised, and she " found the 
 same public and the same friends." 
 
 Soon, however, trouble arose in another quarter. 
 The troupe of La Noue and Mile. Gautier, driven from 
 Rouen by the competition of an opera company, went 
 to try its fortune in Flanders. Mile. Clairon's mother 
 accompanied her, and, while the troupe was performing 
 at Lille, took advantage of the fact of her daughter 
 being now separated from Madame de Bimorel and her 
 other friends, to endeavour to coerce her into a marriage 
 with one of her comrades, whom the girl cordially 
 detested. In a curious passage in her MJmoirts, Mile. 
 Clairon attributes to this persecution the loss of her 
 innocence : 
 
 " The orders of my mother, her violence, which she 
 carried so far as to present a pistol to me, in order to 
 obtain my consent, made me at last sensible of the 
 necessity of having a protector, who, without appealing 
 to the laws, might be able to restrain those about me 
 and defend me against them. Actuated by despair 
 alone, without any base, mercenary motive, without love, 
 without desires, I offered and surrendered myself, on 
 the sole condition of being protected from the marriage 
 and death that threatened me at the same time. That 
 moment, which, at first sight, conveys only an impres- 
 sion of licentiousness, is perhaps the most noble, the 
 most interesting, the most striking of my life." 
 
 Unhappily, the sympathy which this passage might 
 otherwise arouse in the lady's readers is somewhat dis- 
 counted by the perusal of the following extract from an 
 official report which the police-inspector, La Janiere, sent 
 to Berryer, the Lieutenant of Police, some years later, 
 from which it appears that so violent and persistent was
 
 286 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 the persecution to which the unfortunate young actress 
 was subjected by her mother and her unwelcome admirer, 
 that not one, but three protectors were necessary for her 
 safety : 
 
 "After some years, having accepted an engagement 
 with the director of the theatre at Lille, she (Clairon) 
 appeared on the stage in that town, and did not remain 
 long without making conquests. The Comte de 
 Bergheick, colonel of the Regiment Royal- Wallon, the 
 Chevalier de By, lieutenant-colonel of the same regi- 
 ment, and M. Desplace, major of cavalry, were her three 
 chief protectors. 
 
 " People are at first alarmed at the sight of three 
 rival warriors contending for the heart of this girl, but 
 let them be reassured, everything will pass off tranquilly. 
 The Clairon was a careful girl, and, besides, adroit 
 enough to keep in play half-a-dozen lovers. Thus 
 everything worked smoothly, and all were satisfied." l 
 
 In the spring of 1742, La Noue, whose tenancy of 
 the Rouen theatre had not been attended with the suc- 
 cess he had anticipated, and whom the outbreak of the 
 Austrian Succession War had compelled to relinquish a 
 project of taking a company to Berlin, returned to Paris, 
 to make his d&but at the Comedie-Fran9aise. His troupe 
 was in consequence dispersed, and Mile. Clairon, finding 
 herself without employment, joined a travelling company 
 which had been engaged to perform at Ghent, then the 
 headquarters of the English army. Here, she tells us, 
 
 1 Ravaisson, Archives de la Bastille, xii. 348. 
 
 " Mile. Clairon contrived, during the early part of her career, to 
 have three lovers at a time constantly in her train one whom she 
 deceived, one whom she received a la derobee, and one who lived on 
 sighs." "Memoirs of the Margravine of Anspach," i. 220.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 287 
 
 she was received with enthusiastic applause, and " my 
 lord " Marlborough J laid his immense fortune at her 
 feet. But Mile. Clairon was, above all things, a patriot, 
 and " my lord " and his immense fortune had no attrac- 
 tions for her. " The contempt which the English nation 
 affected for mine," she says, " rendered every individual 
 belonging to it insupportable to me. It was impossible 
 for me to listen to them without expressing my dislike." 
 So strong indeed was her aversion to the enemies of her 
 country that it was only with the greatest difficulty that 
 she could be prevailed upon to contribute to their enter- 
 tainment. Finally, she could endure the situation no 
 longer, and, in spite of the efforts of her comrades to 
 detain her, procured a passport and escaped to Dun- 
 querque. 
 
 After a short stay at Dunquerque, Mile. Clairon pro- 
 ceeded to Paris. According to her own account, she 
 had while there received an order from the Gentlemen 
 of the Chamber directing her to make her dtbut at the 
 Opera. From La Janiere's report, however, it appears 
 that " conscious that her talents were too sublime for 
 the provinces, and that she was destined to shine in a 
 greater sphere," she came on her own initiative to the 
 capital, where she was for some months without employ- 
 ment. Ultimately, continues the report, she " accepted 
 the propositions" of the wealthy farmer-general, La 
 Popeliniere, who posed as a patron of the arts, and, 
 through his influence, mounted the stage of the Palais- 
 Royal. 
 
 1 Charles Spencer, third Duke of Marlborough, and fifth Earl of 
 Sunderland (1706-1758). He was, at this time, colonel of the 28th 
 Foot, and, the following year, commanded a brigade at the battle of 
 Dettingen. The name is written Mar * * * in the French edition of 
 Mile. Clairon's Memoirs, but in full in the German.
 
 288 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 However that may be, to the Opera she was 
 admitted, and there, in March 1743, made her d&but 
 in the role of Venus, in Hhione. In her Mtmoires, she 
 admits that though she had " a prodigious extent of 
 voice," she was but an indifferent musician, and not- 
 withstanding the fact that the Mercure of the following 
 May contained a poem in which the writer declared that, 
 so long as Clairon remained on earth, he was content 
 to renounce his hopes of Heaven, her reception by the 
 public seems to have left a good deal to be desired. 
 We also gather that she was dissatisfied with the treat- 
 ment she received from her colleagues a fact which can 
 hardly occasion surprise if there be any truth in the 
 story that, immediately upon entering the Opera, she 
 had publicly announced her intention of soundly boxing 
 the ears of any lady who dared to address her by the 
 odious name of " Frtillon," and soon determined to 
 seek fame and fortune on another stage. " I had," she 
 says, " the good fortune to succeed, but I found that 
 so little talent was required in this theatre, in order to 
 appear possessed of the highest abilities, there seemed 
 to me to be so little merit in merely following the 
 modulations of the musicians, the manners of the per- 
 formers were so distasteful to me, and the smallness of 
 the salary was so absolutely degrading, that, at the end 
 of four months, I signified my intention of resigning." 
 
 From the Opera, Mile. Clairon passed to the 
 Comdie-Fran5aise, but not without encountering many 
 obstacles by the way. Virtue counted for very little at 
 the Academic Royale de Musique, except as a market- 
 able commodity ; it counted for a very great deal among 
 the ComMiens du Roi, or rather they chose to pretend 
 that it did, which came to much the same thing where
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 289 
 
 the admission of a damsel of questionable reputation 
 was concerned. Led by her old employer, La Noue, 
 and Mile. Gaussin, several members of the troupe banded 
 themselves together to oppose the admission of the now 
 notorious "Fretillon" by every means in their power. 
 The latter, on her side, did not lack for supporters, and, 
 for some weeks, a war of pamphlets raged, in which 
 the characters of the different combatants were torn to 
 shreds, to the great delight of the town. Finally, the 
 King's new mistress, Madame de Chateauroux, and her 
 sister, Madame de Lauraguais, intervened on behalf of 
 the young actress, who made so favourable an impression 
 upon the old Due de Gesvres, at an interview which, in 
 his capacity as First Gentleman of the Chamber, he had 
 very reluctantly accorded her, that, a few days later, she 
 received the coveted ordre de debut: 
 
 " We, Due de Gesvres, pair de France, First Gentle- 
 man of the King's Chamber, direct the troupe of his 
 Majesty's French players to cause the demoiselle Clairon 
 to forthwith make her debut, in order that we may be 
 able to judge of her abilities as an actress. 
 
 "(Signed) THE Due DE GESVRES. 
 
 " Executed at Versailles, September IO, 
 
 In the provinces, Mile. Clairon's emploi had been that 
 of a soubrette, and her experience of tragedy was as yet 
 very slight ; for, though she was 'acquainted with some 
 half-dozen of the leading tragic roles, she had never 
 played any of them more than twice. The semainiers, 
 as a number of players who governed the Comedie in 
 rotation were called, were, therefore, not a little sur- 
 
 1 Cited by Campardon, Let Comedicns du Rot de la Troupe fran^aise. 
 
 T
 
 290 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 prised when the young lady informed them that it was 
 her intention to make her first appearance as a votary 
 of Melpomene. But their surprise gave way to pro- 
 found astonishment, when, after they had consented and 
 suggested to her the parts of Constance in Ines de Castro 
 or Aricie in Phedre^ the debutante replied, with a smile of 
 disdain, that such parts were too small for her, and that 
 it was her wish to play Phedre herself Phedre, the most 
 difficult character in the whole tragic repertoire ; Phedre, 
 one of the most celebrated roles of Mile. Dumesnil ! 
 
 " My proposal," she tells us, " made every one smile ; 
 they assured me that the public would not suffer me 
 to finish the first act. I became hot with indignation, 
 but pride sustained me, and I replied as quietly and as 
 majestically as I could : " Messieurs, you will allow me 
 to play it, or you will not. I have the right to make 
 my choice. I will either play Phedre or nothing." 
 
 In the end, she was permitted to have her way. 
 According to her own account, she disdained to rehearse 
 her part, and, on the fateful evening, September 19, 1743, 
 did not arrive at the theatre until just before the curtain 
 rose. The house was crowded, chiefly with persons who 
 had come thither in the confident anticipation of enjoying 
 a hearty laugh at what they were pleased to consider 
 the absurd pretensions of little " Frtillon." They came 
 to laugh and perhaps to hiss ; they remained to applaud, 
 and to applaud enthusiastically, for, long before the first 
 act was over, it was apparent to all that a great tragedienne 
 was before them. " It was Phedre herself in all her 
 sovereign splendour, in all the majesty of passion," and 
 seldom indeed has that immortal queen of sorrow met 
 with so worthy a representative. "The i9th of this 
 month," says the Mercure, " the players have revived at
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 291 
 
 the theatre Racine's tragedy of Phedre, in which Mile. 
 Clairon, a new actress, has made her debut. She repre- 
 sented the principal personage amidst general applause. 
 She is a young woman of much intelligence, who ex- 
 presses with a very charming voice the sentiments which 
 she has the art to understand. One may say that 
 Nature has lavished upon her talents of the happiest 
 order to enable her to fill all the characters suited to her 
 youth, the agreeableness of her person, and her voice." 
 
 A little brochure, entitled Lettre a Madame la Mar- 
 quise V. de G sur le debut de Mademoiselle Clairon a la 
 
 Comedie-Fran$aise^ supplies us with an interesting portrait 
 of the actress : 
 
 " Mademoiselle Clairon is about twenty-two or twenty- 
 three years of age. She is exceedingly fair ; her head is 
 well set. Her eyes are fine, full of fire, and sparkle 
 with voluptuousness. Her mouth is furnished with 
 beautiful teeth ; her bosom is well formed. One gains 
 in examining her a pleasure which the other senses share 
 with the sight. Her figure is shapely, she carries her- 
 self very gracefully. A modest and pleasing manner 
 interests one in her favour. Although she is not a 
 finished beauty, one must resemble her to be charming. 
 Her wit is sparkling, her conversation sweet and engaging. 
 Musician and actress, lover of the arts and their pupil, 
 she is qualified for everything, and, without making any 
 effort, she becomes naturally whatever she wishes to be." * 
 
 Mile. Clairon continued her debuts with success. On 
 the following evening, she gave an admirable rendering 
 of the part of Zenobie, and this was succeeded by further 
 triumphs as Ariane, Electre, and the Atalide of Bajazet. 
 She played also several important roles in comedy, among 
 
 1 Cited by Edmond de Goncourt.
 
 292 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 them the Dorine of Tartuffe. But her acting here was 
 distinctly inferior to her performances in tragedy ; a 
 circumstance which is not a little singular when we 
 remember that the reputation she had brought with 
 her from the provinces had been gained entirely in the 
 former genre. Possibly, recognising that her true voca- 
 tion was tragedy, she was now somewhat careless of the 
 impression she might make in other roles. 
 
 On October 29, 1743, an order from the Due de 
 Gesvres conferred on the young debutante a demi-part in 
 the troupe of the Corned ie-Fran9aise. In the following 
 December, she was accorded a further quarter share, and, 
 exactly a year later, obtained a full part. 
 
 The middle of the eighteenth century was the golden 
 era of the Comedie-Fransaise. What a galaxy of talent 
 do we find there ! Mesdemoiselles Clairon, Dumesnil, 
 Gaussin, and Dangeville ; Grandval, Mol, Lekain, Pre- 
 ville, and Brizard ! Never before and never since have 
 so many celebrated players appeared together upon one 
 stage. And of this brilliant band, Mile. Clairon was 
 the ruler ; ruling not so much by force of talent, for 
 Mile. Dumesnil had greater natural talent, nor by 
 beauty, for Mile. Gaussin was more beautiful, but by her 
 remarkable intelligence, her unwearying industry, and 
 her strength of will. Only Mile. Dumesnil could com- 
 pare with her upon the stage ; off it, Mile. Clairon 
 reigned supreme. 
 
 For nearly twenty-two years, Mile. Clairon disputed 
 the dramatic sceptre with her celebrated rival, inferior 
 to the latter in parts which required the combination of 
 tragic force with pathos and tenderness, but incomparably 
 her superior in characters of the sterner type, especially
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 293 
 
 those into which dignity and an element of lofty and in- 
 flexible pride entered. 1 The methods of the two great 
 actresses could hardly have been more dissimilar. " The 
 one was all temperament," says Edmond de Goncourt, 
 " the other all study and art." Mile. Dumesnil fre- 
 quently came upon the stage with no very definite idea as 
 to the tone or attitude she would assume in certain pas- 
 sages, trusting to a happy inspiration, which, it must be 
 acknowledged, seldom failed her. 2 With Mile. Clairon, 
 who made her art the subject of the most profound and 
 unremitting study, every tone and every gesture had 
 been carefully rehearsed beforehand, and the character 
 elaborated in its minutest details. So numerous indeed 
 were her private rehearsals that she insensibly carried 
 with her her theatrical air into private life, and her 
 friends laughingly declared that she called for her fan 
 and her coach in the tone of Agrippina, and spoke to 
 her lackey like a queen addressing the captain of her 
 guards. 3 But this artificiality was so dexterously con- 
 cealed, she possessed in such a supreme degree the art 
 of concealing art, so dignified and graceful were her 
 movements, and so marvellous her command of facial 
 expression, that even the warmest admirers of Mile. 
 Dumesnil and her school of acting and the most captious 
 of critics were compelled to acknowledge her charm, while 
 the ordinary playgoer was " transported with enthusiasm." 
 Tributes to her genius came from all quarters, from 
 friend and foe, from her compatriots and from foreigners 
 
 1 Hawkins, " The French Stage in the Eighteenth Century," i. 375. 
 
 2 If Marmontel and Bachaumont are to be believed, this inspiration 
 was as often as not aided by wine, and a servant, glass and bottle in hand, 
 was always in attendance in the wings. 
 
 3 Edmond de Goncourt, Mademoiselle Clairon y p. 134.
 
 294 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 alike. Voltaire, when she performed in his little theatre 
 at Ferney, went quite wild with enthusiasm, and declared 
 that, for the first time in his life, he had seen perfection 
 in any kind. 1 Favart, though severely reprobating the 
 extravagance of the admirers who had medals struck in 
 the lady's honour, 2 cherished for her the most profound 
 admiration. " Mile. Clairon," he writes to the Count 
 Durazzo, " is raised so r ar above criticism by the supe- 
 riority of her talents that all the remarks of the most 
 punctilious censor can but serve to convince me that she 
 has attained the last degree of perfection. It seems as if 
 she owed only to Nature all that she has acquired by 
 assiduous study. Every day we are struck with some 
 new admiration." 
 
 Colle, who disliked her heartily, partly no doubt on 
 account of her friendship with the philosophers, writing 
 in 1750, considers her inferior to Mile. Dumesnil in 
 sentimental scenes, but acknowledges her immense 
 superiority to the latter " in parts requiring little energy 
 and much dignity," such as the heroines of Corneille 
 and the Fulvie of Crebil Ion's Catilina. He, however, 
 severely criticises her delivery, which he describes as 
 " artificial and inflated to the last extreme." 
 
 But, five years later, when Mile. Clairon had adopted 
 the more natural method of speaking and acting of 
 which we shall presently speak, the dramatist is all 
 admiration : 
 
 " I have seen L'Orphelin [Voltaire's L'Orphelin de la 
 Chine], and wept at the second and fifth acts. Mile. 
 Clairon appears to merit even more praise than she has 
 received. It is the actress, and not the play, that has 
 moved me. This tragedy is bad, and I do not retract 
 
 1 Seep. 334 infra. 2 See p. 322 infra.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 295 
 
 a single word of what I have said about it ; but the 
 actress is admirable. She improves every day ; she is 
 ridding herself little by little of her declamatory style, 
 and making great strides towards natural acting. If she 
 continues, she will attain to the art of the Lecouvreur. 
 The progress which she has made is too marked and 
 too astonishing for us not to expect still further im- 
 provement ; perhaps we may even hope for perfection." l 
 
 The Reflexions sur la declamation of Herault de 
 Sechelles contain a striking testimony to that wonderful 
 command of expression, the result of a profound study 
 of physiognomy, which enabled her, without opening 
 her lips, to convey to her audience an exact impression 
 of the different phases of emotion through which her 
 mind happened to be passing. 
 
 " One day, Mile. Clairon seated herself in an arm- 
 chair, and, without uttering a single word, she painted, 
 with her countenance alone, all the passions : hatred, rage, 
 indignation, indifference, melancholy, grief, love, pity, 
 gaiety. She painted not only the passions themselves, 
 but all the shades and differences which characterise 
 them. In terror, for example, she expressed dismay, 
 fear, embarrassment, surprise, uneasiness. When we 
 expressed our admiration, she replied that she had made 
 a special study of anatomy, and knew what muscles it 
 was necessary to call into play." 
 
 And listen to Oliver Goldsmith's tribute, which 
 appeared in the second number of The Bee : 
 
 " Mile. Clairon, a celebrated actress at Paris, seems 
 to me the most perfect female figure I have ever seen 
 on any stage. Her first appearance is excessively engag- 
 ing ; she never comes in staring round upon the company, 
 
 1 " Journal et Memoir ts" ii. 33.
 
 296 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 as if she intended to count the benefits of the house, 
 or, at least, to see as well as to be seen. Her eyes are 
 always at first intently fixed upon the persons of the 
 drama, and then she lifts them by degrees, with enchant- 
 ing diffidence, upon the spectators. Her first speech, 
 or at least the first part of it, is delivered with scarce any 
 motion of the arm ; her hands and her tongue never set 
 out together, but one prepares for the other. ... By 
 this simple beginning, she gives herself a power of rising 
 to the passion of the scene. As she proceeds, every 
 gesture, every look, acquires new violence ; till at last, 
 transported, she fills the whole vehemence of the play 
 and the whole idea of the poet. Her hands are not 
 alternately stretched out and then drawn in again, as 
 with the singing women at Sadler's Wells ; they are 
 employed with graceful variety, and every moment please 
 with new and unexpected eloquence. Add to this, that 
 their motion is generally from the shoulder; she never 
 flourishes her hands while the upper part of the arm 
 is motionless ; nor has she the ridiculous appearance as 
 if her elbows were pinned to her hips." 
 
 But perhaps the most interesting of all eulogies of 
 the actress is contained in a letter to Garrick by his 
 Danish correspondent, Sturtz a really masterly descrip- 
 tion, which suffers but little from the fact of the writer 
 being a foreigner, and which we, therefore, need make 
 no apology for producing at length : 
 
 " In such a representing nation, I had a great opinion 
 of their stage, and yet I was disappointed. It seems the 
 quality has forestalled the best parts for them alone, for 
 I saw but an indifferent medley of plays. 
 
 "There is, indeed, Mme. Clairon, standing alone
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 
 
 From an engraving by LAURENT CARS and JACQUES BEAUVARLET, after the 
 painting by CARLE VAN Loo
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 297 
 
 amidst the ruins of the Republic, shooting for the last 
 rays of a departing star. I have gazed on her when 
 she trod the stage as Queen of Carthage, 1 worthy that 
 rank and above the mob of queens ; she inspired every 
 sentiment ; she displays every passion, and, I dare say, 
 she felt none : all the storm was on the surface, waves 
 ran high, and the bottom was calm ; her despair and 
 her grief rose and died at the end of her tongue. 
 
 "... She goes through a number of opposite 
 feelings : soft melancholy, despair, languid tenderness, 
 raving fury, scorn, and melting love ; there is not one 
 passion absent. She is wonderful in those transitions 
 where an inferior actress, from an intense grief, would, 
 at some lucky event, jump on a sudden to a giddy, 
 wanton joy. Mme. Clairon, though exulting at her 
 new-born hope that /Eneas might stay, keeps always the 
 dark colour of sorrow ; when her eye brightens through 
 her tears, she looks, as Ossian expresses it, * like the 
 moon through a watery cloud.' Her characteristic per- 
 fection is the scornful, the commanding part ; then is 
 nobility spread about her as a glory round the head of 
 a saint ; and yet she never puts off the woman ; in the 
 midst of violent rage she is always the tender female, and 
 a nuance of love softens the hard colour into harmony. 
 
 "... Nature has done a good deal in favour of 
 Madame Clairon ; her voice is melody, of a vast extent, 
 and capable of numberless inflexions ; however, I was 
 sometimes unwillingly disturbed by a disagreeable shrill 
 cry, rather expressing physical pain. As to her figure, 
 it is not a very elegant one, her head being rather too 
 big and her whole person too little ; and yet she is 
 great, towering amongst the crowd in the height of 
 1 In Le Franc de Pompignan's Didon.
 
 2 9 8 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 action ; x so as you see by the enchantment of art a 
 colossal head of Jupiter in a cameo the size of sixpence. 
 Were I in a temper to find fault with her, I might men- 
 tion her too articulate declamation, the cadence of every 
 motion ; but then I might as well charge Raphael with 
 having too carefully marked his contours, which are the 
 admiration and the models of every age. True it is 
 that compound of excellence is a mere compound of art ; 
 were it possible to note action, as music, then she would 
 show a fortnight before every mien, the measure of every 
 tone, the tension of every march on paper. She is else 
 quite free from that disagreeable tragical hiccup so 
 epidemical in France, and so awkwardly returning at the 
 end of every verse ; she never shakes so affectedly her 
 head, as some others, in what you call the graceful style, 
 forsooth ; and she alone may venture some bold strokes, 
 which would never do else with so well-bred, so elegant 
 an audience. 
 
 "So when she heard that all was lost, that ^Eneas 
 was gone, then, in the rage of despair, with her two 
 hands across, she beat her forehead with such a gloomy, 
 death-threatening look that we all stood aghast, and 
 her cry raised horror in every breast. I cannot say that 
 she killed herself well, though, but she died well ; her 
 weakening voice was not a childish, whining tone, but 
 imminent dissolution altered it, convulsion raised it, 
 
 1 Madame Vestris, when a girl, was taken to visit Mile. Clairon, 
 who appeared to her " a little woman about forty years of age, who had 
 once been pretty." Some days later, she went to the Comedie-Franaise 
 to witness a performance of Andromaque, and, when she saw the cele- 
 brated actress in the part of Hermione, cried in astonishment : " That 
 is not Mile. Clairon ! " She was assured that it was, but flatly refused 
 to believe, saying : " See how tall that actress is I I have seen Mile. 
 Clairon at her house ; she is a very little woman." It was Mile. Clairon 
 none the less. Edmond de Goncourt, Mademoiselle Clairon, p. 171.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 299 
 
 and so it vanished into the air as a vapour. There, 
 then, I have brought her to the highest pitch of glory of 
 your tribe, self-murder ; may she now quietly repose ! " l 
 
 And Garrick replies, laying his finger, with unerr- 
 ing instinct, upon the one weak spot in Mile. Clairon's 
 acting : 
 
 " What shall I say to you, my dear friend, about 
 ' the Clairon.' Your dissection of her is as accurate as 
 if you had opened her alive ; she has everything that 
 art and a good understanding, with great natural spirit, 
 can give her. But there I fear (and I only tell you 
 my fears and open my soul to you) the heart has none 
 of those instantaneous feelings, that life-blood, that keen 
 sensibility, that bursts at once from genius, and, like 
 electrical fire, shoots through the veins, marrow, bones, 
 and all, of every spectator. Madame Clairon is so 
 conscious and so certain of what she can do, that she 
 never, I believe, had the feelings of the instant come 
 upon her unexpectedly ; but I pronounce that the 
 greatest strokes of genius have been unknown to the 
 actor himself till circumstances and the warmth of the 
 scene has sprung the mine, as it were, as much to his 
 own surprise as to that of the audience. Thus I make 
 a great difference between a great genius and a good 
 actor. The first will always realise the feelings of his 
 character, and be transported beyond himself; while the 
 other, with great powers and good sense, will give great 
 pleasure to an audience, but never 
 
 " * Pectus inaniter angit, 
 
 Irritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet, 
 Ut magus.' 
 
 1 "Private Correspondence of David Garrick," i. 356.
 
 300 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 " I have with great freedom communicated my 
 ideas of acting, but you must not betray me, my good 
 friend ; the Clairon would never forgive me, though I 
 called her an excellent actress, if I did not swear by all 
 the gods that she was the greatest genius too." 1 
 
 Space forbids us to give more than a brief account 
 of the many triumphs of this superb tragedienne, who, 
 besides worthily sustaining all the chief characters of 
 the classic repertoire, created forty-three roles, in not 
 one of which did she fail to uphold her reputation, 
 while the great majority were brilliantly successful. 
 Among the former, she was probably seen to most 
 advantage in Medee in which character Carle Van Loo 
 painted her in his celebrated portrait Phedre, Hermione, 
 Zenobie, Didon, and Cleopatre. Among the latter, 
 taking them in chronological order, should be men- 
 tioned Arctic in the Denys le Tyran of Marmontel ; 
 Fulvie in Crebillon's Catalina ; Azema in the Shniramis 
 of Voltaire ; Electre in the Oreste of the same writer ; 
 Cassandre in Chateaubrun's play, Les Troyennes\ Idame 
 in Voltaire's Orphelin de la Chine ; Astarbe in the tragedy 
 of that name, by Colardeau ; Amenaide in the Tancrede 
 of Voltaire ; and Alienor in De Belloy's Siege de Calais, 
 during the run of which last play occurred the un- 
 fortunate incident which led to her retirement from 
 the stage. 
 
 The almost fanatical admiration which Voltaire 
 cherished for the actress was no doubt, in part, due 
 to the fact that she had contributed so largely to the 
 success of his plays. If Colle is to be believed, she 
 " made " his Orphelin de la Chine, while as the tender 
 
 1 "Private Correspondence of David Garrick," ii. 359.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 301 
 
 and fiery Amena'fde of Tancrede (September 3, 1760), 
 she appears to have held the audience absolutely 
 enthralled. " Ah ! mon cher maitre" writes Diderot 
 to the exile of Ferney, " if you could see her crossing 
 the stage, half-leaning upon the executioners who sur- 
 round her, her knees giving way beneath her, her eyes 
 closed, her arms hanging down, as though in death ; 
 if you could hear her cry on recognising Tancrede, you 
 would be convinced, more than ever, that silence and 
 pantomime have sometimes a pathos which all the 
 resources of oratory cannot attain. Open your port- 
 folios and look at Poussin's Esther paraissant devant 
 FAssuerus : it is Clairon on her way to execution." l 
 
 The Mercure the staid Mercure, so chary of its 
 praise can find no word to describe her acting but 
 that of sublime. The advocate Barbier, voicing the 
 opinion of the average playgoer, declares that " Mile. 
 Clairon carried the talent of tragic declamation to a 
 point which had never been witnessed before " ; while 
 d'Alembert writes : " Mile. Clairon has been incompar- 
 able and beyond anything that she has yet attained to." 
 
 To the great disappointment of the public, the health 
 of Mile. Clairon necessitated the temporary withdrawal 
 of the play after the thirteenth performance, and, when 
 it was revived in the following January, the enthusiasm 
 with which it was received was almost indescribable. 
 
 Simultaneously with her celebrity as an actress, 
 Mile. Clairon enjoyed a celebrity of another, and far 
 less enviable, kind. " Love," she remarks, in her 
 Memoires, " is one of Nature's needs ; and I satisfied 
 it." She did indeed. " Hardly had she appeared on 
 
 1 Cited by Adolphe Jullien, L'Histoire du costume au Theatre.
 
 302 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 the [Paris] stage," writes La Janiere to the Lieutenant 
 of Police, in the report to which we have already had 
 occasion to refer, " than every one began to fight for 
 her, and the crowd of lovers was so great that, in spite 
 of her inclination towards gallantry, she was embarrassed 
 to choose among them." There were princes and dukes ; 
 there were marquises, and barons, and counts; there were 
 impecunious chevaliers and wealthy farmer-generals; there 
 were dashing cavalry-officers and sober presidents of the 
 Parliament ; there were actors and men of letters. And 
 few indeed that is to say, few who possessed any pass- 
 port to her favour : high rank, a handsome presence, 
 a pretty wit, or, best of all, a well-lined purse and 
 a disposition to empty it at her feet, 1 seemed to have 
 sighed in vain. 
 
 Poor M. de la Popeliniere, to whose good offices 
 Mile. Clairon had owed her admission to the Opera, 
 did not long retain his proud position of amant en titre. 
 He was speedily abandoned for the Prince de Soubise, 
 who, however, was only accorded a fourth share of the 
 lady's heart, the remainder of that priceless organ being 
 divided between three other high and puissant seigneurs, 
 the Dues de Luxembourg and de Bouteville and the 
 Marquis de Bissy. Next Mile, de Camargo's old lover, 
 the President de Rieux, succeeded in securing a monopoly 
 of the tragedienne'* s affections, only to lose them, however, 
 the moment he showed a disinclination to loosen his 
 purse-strings. Then came an assortment of admirers, 
 drawn from the nobility, the Parliament, financial circles, 
 the stage, the army, and foreign visitors to Paris, and 
 
 1 In her Memoires, Mile. Clairon has the effrontery to declare that 
 she never had any cause to be ashamed of her love-affairs, and defies any 
 one to name " a single man who had purchased her favours."
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 303 
 
 including the " Baron de Kervert," who is described as 
 a rich Englishman, but whom we have failed to identify ; 
 a Polish nobleman, the Comte de Brotok, "who made 
 a brave show before he became acquainted with her, but, 
 in less than four months, had lost coach, diamonds, and 
 snuff-box, and was obliged to pretend that he was in 
 mourning for one of his relations, in order to appear 
 without shame in a black coat ; " the actor Grandval, 
 who had had more bonnes fortunes than he could count, 
 but who proved so accommodating an admirer that, after 
 a few months of the lady's society, " his colleagues had 
 to accord him a benefit performance in order to re- 
 establish his affairs, which had fallen into a disastrous 
 condition ; " and, finally, the Baron de Besenval, whose 
 reputation for gallantry was, in later years, to com- 
 promise Marie Antoinette, and "with whom," says La 
 Janiere, " she became infatuated." l 
 
 For Besenval indeed, with whom she had had a 
 previous liaison during her career in the provinces, 
 Mile. Clairon, to judge by her letters, appears to have 
 entertained a genuine affection. In one epistle, " she 
 conjures him to love her for ever " ; in another, she 
 informs him that a letter which she has just received 
 from him has "restored her to life," and that, however 
 much he may love her, his passion must of necessity 
 be inferior to hers ; and, in a third, declares that the 
 devotion she feels for him has " spoiled her taste " for 
 other admirers, and that she " experiences more pleasure 
 in being true to him, whether he desires it or not, than 
 she formerly had in being unfaithful." 
 
 But let us listen to some of the reports of the Argus- 
 
 1 Ravaisson, Archives de la Bastille, xii. 348. 
 
 2 Edmond de Goncourt, Mademoiselle Clairon, p. 43 et seq.
 
 304 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 eyed agents of the Lieutenant of Police, which prove 
 what an important personage a fashionable actress was 
 in those days : 
 
 "SAINT-MARC TO BERRYER. 
 
 "June 14, 1748. 
 
 " I have the honour to report to you that the trust- 
 worthy person whom I introduced into Mile. Clairon's 
 house assures me that the Prince de Monaco, since his 
 return to his regiment, has not allowed a single day to 
 pass without writing to Clairon ; he shows much affec- 
 tion for her, and, among other things, he begs her con- 
 stantly not to return to the stage until her health is 
 perfectly re-established, and to remember that she has 
 promised to take every care of her life, in order to pro- 
 long his . . . 
 
 " D'Hugues de Giversac, who is very much in love 
 with Clairon, and is reputed to have enjoyed her favours, 
 has made all sorts of attempts to gain admission to the 
 house, but I am assured that there is no possibility of 
 his succeeding, and that Clairon's door is closed to him. 
 It has been remarked that, since the departure of the 
 prince, she has not received any one, except actors and 
 actresses and, frequently, an old attorney, who is a friend 
 of Clairon's father. Moreover, she does not go out, 
 except to Mass, and, since her illness, it does not appear 
 that the prince has any rivals. It has been said that 
 D'Hugues was one, but the demoiselle's conduct for 
 some time past renders that improbable. 
 
 " It has been remarked that Clairon only goes out 
 with her father and sister, or some actors. She always 
 makes great cheer and spends large sums on her table.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 305 
 
 She is daily expecting the arrival of the prince and his 
 money. I continue the precautions necessary to enable 
 me to operate successfully the moment the prince 
 appears." 
 
 "SAINT-MARC to BERRYER. 
 
 " June 23, 1748. 
 
 " I have the honour to report to you that Mile. 
 Clairon received yesterday evening a letter from the 
 Prince de Monaco, in which he informs her that he will 
 arrive without fail at the end of next week. But Clairon 
 considers that this is a feint on his part, and that he will 
 arrive sooner, in order to surprise her. Apart from that, 
 nothing of importance has happened at this house. The 
 demoiselle does not go out, nor does she receive any one, 
 save the members of her troupe and the old person of 
 whom I have spoken." 
 
 "SAINT-MARC to BERRYER. 
 
 " August 10, 1748. 
 
 " I have the honour to report to you that nothing 
 likely to be of interest to you is taking place at the 
 house of the demoiselle Clairon. She often sees her 
 comrades of the Comedie, with whom she always makes 
 good cheer. 
 
 " There is a foreigner whose name I have not been 
 able to ascertain, who has employed a woman called 
 Caron, formerly an entremetteuse, to speak in his favour. 
 This foreigner, although he is not acquainted with her, 
 has sent to Clairon a piece of Indian taffeta, a great 
 quantity of chocolate and champagne, and a service of 
 porcelain encrusted with gold, which presents were 
 
 u
 
 306 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 entrusted to one of Clairon's servants, with a letter 
 from the foreigner, promising her a considerable allow- 
 ance, if she will become his mistress. The story goes 
 that she wrote to the Prince de Monaco, to inform him 
 of the advantageous proposal she had received from this 
 foreigner. The prince despatched, on the instant, an old 
 confidential servant, with instructions, in writing, enjoin- 
 ing on the demoiselle Clairon to return everything which 
 she had received from this foreigner. The demoiselle 
 found herself in an exceedingly embarrassing position, 
 inasmuch as she had disposed of more than half the 
 presents, having converted them into cash. Since then, 
 the prince's confidential servant has remained in Paris, 
 to keep an eye upon her behaviour, until the moment of 
 the arrival of his master, who has been very impatiently 
 expected for more than a month." * 
 
 "MEUNIER to BERRYER. 
 
 "September 18, 1748. 
 
 " The demoiselle Clairon has for a long time been 
 the mistress of [the Marquis] de Cindr6. At the end 
 of the month of August, she asked him for a sum of 
 2000 livres, 2 of which she stood in pressing need. He 
 gave her this sum. 
 
 "Some days later, she demanded of M. de Cindre 
 a country-house. He could refuse her nothing, and 
 rented one for her at Pantin, which he furnished 
 magnificently. 
 
 1 Ravaisson, Archives de la Bastille, xii. 292 et seq. 
 
 2 Ravaisson, Archives de la Bastille, xii. 295. From the same report 
 we learn that the Prince of Wiirtemberg, then on a visit to Paris, had 
 fallen violently in love with Mile. Gaussin, " et qu'il a commence par lui 
 
 faire un present de 200 louts pour souper avec elle." Mile. Clairon was 
 probably no worse than the other divinities of the Comedie.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 307 
 
 " M. de Cindre went to visit her one evening, and, to 
 give her an agreeable surprise, entered by a back door, 
 and found the demoiselle Clairon with a young man. . . . 
 He withdrew, without speaking to any one, and without 
 his presence being discovered. The following day, he 
 sent and removed the furniture which he had placed 
 in the house, and abandoned Mile. Clairon. 
 
 " The young man in question is M. de Jaucourt, an 
 officer of dragoons, who, about two months ago, was 
 arrested for being absent from his regiment without 
 leave." 
 
 Under date October 23, 1748, we come to an entry 
 of considerable interest : 
 
 " The demoiselle Clairon has dismissed the Marquis 
 de Thibouville. She has replaced him by the sieur 
 Marmontel, author of Denis le Tyran. He is not 
 recognisable since he has devoted himself to amusing 
 this girl." * 
 
 The beginning of the liaison between Mile. Clairon 
 and the author of the Contes moraux, which the latter 
 relates, with much complacency, in his ever-delightful 
 Mtmoires, written, by the way, " for the instruction of 
 his children," is distinctly amusing. 
 
 Marmontel had been in love with a certain Mile. 
 Navarre, whose heart he had stolen away from Maurice 
 de Saxe, much to the indignation of the famous Marshal, 2 
 
 1 Archives, xii. 295. 
 
 2 This was not the only occasion upon which Marmontel trespassed 
 upon Maurice's preserves. He took a similar liberty with the heart of 
 Mile, de Verrieres, " on learning which the Marshal fell into a passion 
 unworthy of so great a man."
 
 308 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 and who had made of him " the happiest of lovers and 
 the most miserable of slaves." One day, he learned 
 that his enchantress had jilted him, in his turn, for 
 the Chevalier de Mirabeau, upon which he went home, 
 " fell down like a sacrificed victim," and was for some 
 time alarmingly ill. Mile. Clairon came to console 
 him, when the following conversation took place : 
 
 " * My friend/ said she, ' your heart needs some 
 object of love ; you feel listless, because it is empty. 
 You must interest ; you must fill it. Is there not a 
 woman in the world whom you can think agreeable ? * 
 
 " * I know,' said I, * only one who could comfort me 
 if she chose, but would she be so generous.' 
 
 " ' We must see as to that,' replied she, with a 
 smile. ' Am I acquainted with her ? I will endeavour 
 to assist you.' 
 
 " * Yes, you know her, and have great influence 
 over her.' 
 
 " * Well, what is her name ? I will speak to her 
 in your favour ; I will say that you love with ardour 
 and sincerity ; that you can be faithful and constant ; 
 that she is sure of being happy in your love.' 
 
 " * So you really believe all this ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes ; I am fully persuaded of it.' 
 
 " * Be so good as to say it to yourself.' 
 
 " ' To myself, my friend ? ' 
 
 " * To yourself.' 
 
 " * Ah ! then it shall be my pride to comfort you.' " l 
 
 A connection was thus formed, which, though it did 
 not last very long at least the love-affair did not 2 
 
 1 Memoiret de Marmontel (edit. 1804), i. 266. 
 
 2 Marmontel tells us that Mile. Clairon made " a very desirable 
 mistress." "She had," says he, "all the charms of an agreeable
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 309 
 
 was not without its influence upon the professional 
 careers of both. Marmontel tells us that his passion 
 for the actress had the effect of " rekindling his poeti- 
 cal ardour " ; while, on her side, Mile. Clairon was in- 
 duced by the representations of the young author to 
 adopt a more natural style of acting, which may be 
 said to have given the finishing touch to an art which 
 came nearer perfection than anything yet seen on the 
 French stage, and, moreover, opened the door for a 
 reform the importance of which can scarcely be over- 
 estimated. 
 
 Marmontel had repeatedly urged upon the tragedienne 
 the advisability of aiming at greater simplicity, pointing 
 out that her acting was " too splendid, too impetuous,'* 
 and was wanting in suppleness and truth. " You pos- 
 sess," said he, " every means of excelling in your art, and 
 yet, great as you are, you might easily rise above your- 
 self, purely by using more temperately those powers of 
 which you are so prodigal. You cite to me your own 
 brilliant successes and those which you have gained for 
 me ; you cite the opinion and the advice of your 
 friends; you cite the opinion of M. de Voltaire, who 
 himself recites his lines with emphasis, and who pretends 
 that declamation requires the same pomp as style ; while 
 I, in return, can only urge an irresistible feeling that 
 declamation, like style, may be dignified, majestic, 
 tragic, and yet simple ; that tones, in order to be 
 
 character without any mixture of caprice ; while her only desire, her 
 most delicate attentions, were directed towards rendering her lover 
 happy. So long as she loved, no one could be more faithful or more 
 tender than she. ... I left her charming, I found her equally, and, 
 if possible, still more charming. What a pity that with so seductive 
 a character so much levity should be joined, and that love so sincere, 
 and even so faithful, should not have been more constant ! "
 
 310 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 animated and deeply affecting, require gradations, shades, 
 unforeseen and sudden transitions, which they can never 
 have when strained and laboured." 
 
 Mile. Clairon laughingly replied that she saw plainly 
 that he would never let her alone until she had adopted 
 a tone and manner more suited to comedy than to 
 tragedy. To which Marmontel rejoined that this she 
 could never do, since her voice, her look, her pronun- 
 ciation, her gestures, her attitudes, were all instinc- 
 tively dignified and majestic, and that, if she would 
 but consent to be natural, her tragic powers could not 
 fail to be enhanced. 
 
 For a long while, the actress refused to be persuaded ; 
 but, finally, in 1752, after Marmontel had, for some time, 
 ceased to urge her, she resolved to follow his counsels. 
 Judging it best to make her first essays in the new 
 method before a public less critical and less conservative 
 than that of Paris, she obtained permission to visit 
 Bordeaux, where, in addition, she would have the ad- 
 vantage of performing in a theatre more suited to the 
 style she proposed to adopt than the large salle of the 
 Comedie-Fran9aise. On her first evening at Bordeaux, 
 she appeared as Phedre, and played the part in the 
 way she had always been accustomed to perform it in 
 Paris, that is to say, with much extravagance of tone 
 and gesture. She was, of course, loudly applauded. 
 The next day, she appeared as Agrippine, and played 
 the character from beginning to end in conformity 
 with the ideas which she had recently adopted. 
 
 " This simple, easy, and natural style of acting," she 
 tells us, " at first surprised them. An accelerated mode 
 of utterance at the end of each couplet, and a regular 
 gradation of vehemence had been usually the signals
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 311 
 
 for applause ; they knew that it had only been usual 
 to applaud such passages ; and, as I did not resort to 
 the style to which they had become accustomed, I was 
 not applauded." As the play proceeded, however, the 
 attitude of the audience underwent a change ; murmurs 
 of " Mats cela est beau ! Cela est beau ! " began to make 
 themselves heard ; and, when the curtain fell, the actress 
 received a perfect ovation. 
 
 " After this," she continues, " I represented thirty-two 
 of my different characters, and always in my newly- 
 adopted style. Ariane was of the number, and the 
 authors of the Encyclopedic, under the subject Dtclama- 
 tion, have been kind enough to transmit to posterity the 
 very marked and flattering homage which I received. 
 However, being still fearful, and doubting the judgment 
 of the public, as well as my own, I determined to 
 perform Phedre as I had played it at first, and I saw, 
 to my delight, that they were dissatisfied with it. I 
 had courage enough to say that it was an experiment 
 which I had believed it to be my duty to make, and 
 that I would play the same character differently, if 
 they would grant me the favour of a third perform- 
 ance. I obtained permission, adopted the style which 
 was the result of my studies as completely as I could, 
 and every one agreed that there was no comparison." 
 
 Encouraged by the success which had attended her 
 experiments at Bordeaux, Mile. Clairon forthwith de- 
 termined to try the effect of the new method upon 
 Paris and Versailles. 
 
 One day, when she was to play Roxane in the little 
 theatre at Versailles, Marmontel, happening to come to 
 her dressing-room, was surprised to find her attired like 
 a sultana, without panier, her arms half-bare, and, in
 
 312 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 short, in correct Oriental costume. He complimented 
 her upon her appearance, upon which she told him 
 of her experience at Bordeaux, adding : " I am going 
 to try it again in this small theatre. Come and hear 
 me, and if it be as successful here, adieu to the old 
 declamation ! " 
 
 The result, Marmontel tells us, exceeded their most 
 sanguine anticipations. " It was no longer the actress, 
 but Roxane herself, who was seen and heard." The 
 aristocratic audience were delighted, and applauded her 
 warmly. After the play, her friend went to congratulate 
 her upon her success. "Ah!" said she, "don't you see 
 that I am undone ? In all my characters the costume 
 must now be observed ; the truth of dress must be 
 conjoined with that of acting. All my costly theatrical 
 wardrobe must from this moment be changed ; I lose 
 clothes to the value of 10,000 crowns ; but the sacrifice 
 is made. You shall see me within a week perform 
 Electre as naturally as I have just played Roxane." 
 
 She was as good as her word. It was the Electre of 
 Crebillon. " In place of the ridiculous panier and wide 
 mourning gown which she had been accustomed to 
 wear," says Marmontel, " she appeared in the simple 
 dress of a slave, with her hair dishevelled, and long 
 chains upon her arms. She was admirable, and, some 
 time afterwards, she was still more sublime in the Electre 
 of Voltaire. Voltaire had made her recite this part with 
 an unvaried and doleful monotony ; but, when spoken 
 naturally, it acquired a beauty unknown to himself. 
 On hearing it acted at his theatre at Ferney, where 
 she went to visit him, he exclaimed, bathed in tears and 
 transported with admiration, ' It is not I who am the 
 author of that it is herself; she has created the part.'
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 313 
 
 And, indeed, the infinity of shades which she introduced, 
 and the manner in which she expressed the passions, 
 rendered it perhaps, of all others, that in which she was 
 the most astonishing." 1 
 
 Paris, as well as Versailles, was quick to recognise in 
 this change the genuine tragic tone, and the enormously 
 increased appearance of probability which theatrical per- 
 formances derive from a due observation of costume. 
 Thus, from one reform sprang another, and, warmly 
 supported by the celebrated actor Lekain, 2 who was 
 keenly alive to the absurdity of dressing the characters 
 of ancient Greece and Rome in a half-modern fashion, 
 
 1 Memoires de Marmontcl (edit. 1804), ii. 41 et seq. 
 
 2 Lekain had made his debut at the Comedie-Frangaise on Sep- 
 tember 14, 1750, as Titus in the Brutus of Voltaire. His admission into 
 the company was bitterly opposed by Mile. Clairon, who gave no other 
 reason for her hostility than that his personal appearance he was a 
 remarkably plain man, short and thick-set, with a harsh voice and rough 
 manners was displeasing to her. Lekain retaliated by giving publicity 
 to certain episodes in the lady's private life which did not redound to her 
 credit. To which Mile. Clairon rejoined by addressing him before the 
 assembled company as follows : " I was well aware, Monsieur, that you 
 were a man of repulsive appearance, but I did not know that you possessed 
 a soul a thousand times more hideous than your person." Lekain left 
 the theatre in a towering passion, and, with the assistance of another enemy 
 of Mile. Clairon, the Chevalier de la Morliere, composed a letter, " the 
 most insulting, the most atrocious, that it was possible to conceive," which 
 he sent to the actress. For this he was expelled from the Comedie, 
 but subsequently, on writing another letter, this time of apology, rein- 
 stated. Soon after this affair, which was common knowledge, Lekain 
 happened to be playing ./Eneas to the Dido of Mile. Clairon, in Le Franc 
 de Pompignan's tragedy. In one of the most touching passages of the 
 play, the ill-fated queen, addressing her faithless lover, exclaims : 
 
 " Je devrais te ha'i'r, ingrat ! Et je t' adore." 
 
 No sooner were the words out of her mouth, than the whole pit burst into 
 such peals of merriment that it was fully five minutes before the perform- 
 ance could be continued.
 
 3H QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Mile. Clairon was able to effect a veritable revolution. 
 Henceforth, the actors were forced to abandon their 
 fonnelets, their fringed gloves, their voluminous periwigs, 
 their plumed hats, and all the rest of the trappings which 
 one sees in Liotard's engraving of Watteau's picture, 
 Le s Comtdiens Franfais ; and this new desire for truth 
 ere long extended to the scenery and all the accessories. 
 
 Voltaire's Orphelin de la Chine, produced on August 
 20, 1754, where, in the part of Idame, Mile. Clairon 
 secured one of her most brilliant triumphs, 1 was the first 
 play in which they ventured to act on their ideas. 
 " On returning from Fontainebleau," writes Colle, " this 
 tragedy has been revived, and has had nine representa- 
 tions. I omitted to mention that the players have been 
 put to some expense. They have had a scene painted, 
 or, to speak more correctly, a palace, in the Chinese 
 fashion ; they have also observed the costumes of the 
 country in their dress. The women wore Chinese 
 gowns, were without paniers and ruffles, and had their 
 arms bare. Clairon even affected foreign gesticulations, 
 placing frequently one hand or both on her hips ; holding 
 for some moments her clenched fist to her forehead, and 
 so forth. The men, according to the characters they 
 represented, were attired as Tartars or Chinamen. 2 The 
 effect was excellent." 3 
 
 Mile. Clairon was not content with restoring to the 
 figures of the past their correct costume ; she sought 
 to make them live again in all the distinctiveness of their 
 times, their countries, and their nationality. To be a 
 
 1 See p. 294 supra. 
 
 2 Grimm says that Voltaire surrendered to the players his share of 
 the profits, in order to help them to defray the expense of the costumes. 
 
 8 Journal et Memoir es y ii. 33.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 315 
 
 great tragic actor or actress, it was not enough, in her 
 opinion, to have a sonorous voice, a majestic presence, 
 a dignified carriage, enthusiasm, and dramatic intelli- 
 gence ; it was necessary for the player " to transport 
 himself into the times and the places where the characters 
 which he was representing had lived," to recover, in fact, 
 a little of the spirit of Rome, Sparta, or Athens. " Not 
 only," says she, in her Mtmoires, " ought one to acquaint 
 oneself with the history of all the peoples of the world, 
 but to investigate it thoroughly ; to render oneself 
 familiar with it, even in the minutest details ; to adapt 
 to each role the peculiarities which the nation to which 
 the character belonged ought to exhibit." 
 
 Such a result could, of course, only be attained by 
 constant study ; and she herself was an indefatigable 
 student of historical works and the classics, as well as 
 of statues, monuments, and portraits ; and unsparing in 
 her condemnation of those members of her profession 
 who were too indolent or too careless to follow her 
 example. Grimm relates an imaginary conversation 
 between Mile. Clairon and a young actor, which 
 Mme. d'Epinay declared that she had dreamed, and 
 which, no doubt, correctly illustrates the tragedienne's 
 views on this subject. 
 
 The young actor has come to enlist Mile. Clairon's 
 good offices to secure him a debut at the Comedie-Fran- 
 9aise, and the following conversation takes place : 
 
 " Have you yet appeared at any theatre ? " 
 
 " No, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " Well ! no matter ; your face interests me. Be 
 seated, Monsieur, and let us talk. . . . Ah ! go and 
 fetch me my work-basket from yonder console, at the 
 end of the room, so that I may see you walk, if you
 
 3i6 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 please over there, near that Japanese ornament. . . . 
 Monsieur, I thank you. That is satisfactory ; your 
 movements are easy ; you have no stiffness, nor un- 
 gainliness ; but you have no distinction. Have you 
 never had occasion to observe men of quality in society ? 
 What, Monsieur, are the characters in which you are 
 most proficient, and which you propose that I should 
 listen to ? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle, that of Nero in Sritannicus" 
 
 " Is that the only one ? Well, Monsieur, before I 
 listen to you, have the kindness to tell me who Nero 
 was." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, he was an emperor who lived at 
 Rome." 
 
 " That he lived at Rome is correct. But was he a 
 Roman emperor, or did he reside at Rome for pleasure ? 
 How did he rise to be emperor ? What were his claims, 
 his birth, his parents, his education, his character, his 
 inclinations, his virtues, his vices ? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle, the role of Nero answers some of 
 your questions, but not all." 
 
 " Monsieur, it is necessary to answer not only these 
 questions, but all the further ones that I shall ask you. 
 And how can you play the part of Nero, or any other 
 that you wish to, unless you are as well acquainted with 
 the life of the personage whom you are representing as 
 with your own ? " 
 
 " I was under the impression, Mademoiselle, that in 
 order to grasp the sense of his role, it was quite sufficient 
 to be acquainted with the play." 
 
 " And you were under a wrong impression, Mon- 
 sieur." l 
 
 1 Grimm, Correspondance litteraire, cited by Edmond de Goncourt, 
 Mademoiselle Clairon, 1 3 1 et teg.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 317 
 
 In the midst of her histrionic triumphs, Mile. Clairon 
 continued her career of gallantry. To Marmontel suc- 
 ceeded the Bailli de Fleury, " understudied " by a M. de 
 Villeguillon, an officer of Musketeers. Soon both these 
 gentlemen were discarded in favour of the Marquis de 
 Ximenes, a young man of twenty-five, with a consider- 
 able fortune. The marquis, who was by way of being 
 a poet, began his wooing by inditing sonnets to the 
 lady's eyes, which, however, were very coldly received. 
 Thereupon, changing his tactics, he sent her a Perigueux 
 pdtt, in which he had caused to be inserted, in the guise 
 of truffles, six rouleaux of fifty louis each. The rouleaux 
 were much more to Mile. Clairon's taste than the verses 
 had been, and, when her generous admirer presented 
 himself that evening, her door was no longer closed to 
 him. 
 
 The marquis loved the lady very dearly. For her 
 sake, he abandoned a former enchantress of the name 
 of Mainville, " who had already plucked some of his 
 feathers." For her sake, he parted with a fine estate 
 in Champagne and laid the proceeds at her feet. And 
 every day he came to visit her " in an equipage of the 
 most brilliant description, with two tall lackeys in the 
 rumble, and a running footman preceding it, all superbly 
 habited." x 
 
 Finally, however, she killed his love with a bon mot. 
 A fair colleague in the green-room, with whom she was 
 having words, happened to remark that Monsieur le 
 Marquis had turned Mademoiselle's head. " Yes," 
 snapped the actress, " away from him." M. de Ximenes, 
 be it said, was not an Adonis. 
 
 1 " Report of Meunier to the Lieutenant of Police;" Rayaisson, 
 Archives de la Bastille, xii. 367.
 
 3i 8 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 This injudicious speech was duly reported to the 
 marquis, who, stung to the quick, quitted the lady for 
 ever. Mile. Clairon wrote demanding the return of a 
 portrait of herself which she had given him. It came, 
 and, with it, these cruel verses : 
 
 " Tout s^use, tout pe"rit, tu le prouves, Clairon ; 
 Ce pastel dont tu m'a fait don, 
 Du temps a ressenti Toutrage 
 II t'en ressemble davantage." l 
 
 To M. de Ximenes succeeded a gentleman who, for 
 some time, baffled the curiosity of Berryer's inspectors 
 by invariably visiting the actress under cover of night, 
 in a hackney-coach, and with his features concealed by 
 a cloak. Ultimately, it transpired that the mysterious 
 admirer was the Marquis de Bauffremont, who having 
 recently married and not for love a lady of a very 
 jealous disposition, had strong reasons for desiring to 
 hide his identity. 2 
 
 The discreet M. de Bauffremont was followed by 
 yet another marquis ; he of Rochechouart Mile. Clairon 
 appears to have been extremely partial to noblemen of 
 this particular rank and, finally, the lady formed a 
 liaison with Joseph Alphonse Omer, Comte de Valbelle 
 d'Oraison, " who had received from Nature all the graces 
 that go to the making of an amiable man, and whom 
 Chance had made the richest noble in Provence." 
 
 Let us hasten to add that here, at any rate, Mile. 
 Clairon seems to have experienced a genuine passion, 
 which was undoubtedly reciprocated ; for her liaison with 
 
 1 Grimm, Correspondance litteraire, i. 377. 
 
 2 Report of Meunier to Berryer, Lieutenant of Police, Archives de 
 la Bastille, xii. 
 
 3 Edmond de Goncourt, Mademoiselle Clairon, p. 170.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 319 
 
 the Comte de Valbelle lasted for nineteen years, and, 
 as we shall presently see, might have been regularised, 
 had the actress been so disposed. 
 
 With her triumph in the Amena'fde of Tancrede, of 
 which we have spoken elsewhere, Mile. Clairon reached 
 the height of her fame. She ruled with despotic sway 
 not only the theatre, but the world of fashion as well. 
 At her house, in the Rue des Marais the same house 
 which had been successively occupied by Marie de 
 Champmesle, Racine, and Adrienne Lecouvreur she 
 received the cream of the society of both Court and 
 capital : l Mesdames d'Aiguillon, de Villeroi, de la 
 Valliere, de Forcalquier, and others ; and in turn, was 
 a frequent guest at their tables and also at that of 
 Madame du Deffand. The Princess Galitzin, wife of 
 the Russian Ambassador at the Court of Vienna, formed 
 so deep an attachment for the actress that she " could 
 not spend two hours without seeing her or writing to 
 her." It was she who commissioned Carle Van Loo to 
 paint his celebrated portrait of Mile. Clairon as Medea, 2 
 
 1 We read in Mile. Clairon' 8 Memoircs : " ' The walls alone of this 
 house,' I said to myself, * ought to make me feel the sublimity of the 
 poet, and enable me to attain the talent of the actress. It is in this 
 sanctuary that I ought to live and die.' " We fear that the sanctuary 
 was, on occasion, somewhat profaned, since the lady was in the habit of 
 entertaining here not only dames of high degree, but some of the most 
 dissolute members of Paris society. 
 
 2 " M. Carle Van Loo's picture, in which Mile. Clairon is painted 
 as Medea, had a great reputation while it was still unfinished. Hardly 
 had the artist opened his studio, than all Paris crowded to admire his 
 chef (Fceuvre. Never did work obtain more unanimous praise." Le 
 Tableau de Mile. Clairon, par M. Carle Vanloo, a manuscript document 
 cited by Edmond de Goncourt. When it was nearly completed, 
 Louis XV. expressed a. wish to see it, and came to Van Loo's studio,
 
 320 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 and presented it to the actress. It was she, too, who, 
 in 1759, persuaded the Russian Court to invite the 
 great actress to leave France and take up her residence 
 at St. Petersburg. The terms offered were extremely 
 tempting, 1 and Mile. Clairon hesitated long before 
 refusing them. But her passion for the Comte de 
 Valbelle was then at its height, and she could not 
 reconcile herself to the idea of being separated from her 
 lover. Then the count offered to make her his wife, 
 and accompany her to Russia, and so anxious was the 
 Czarina Elizabeth to secure the services of the tragedienne, 
 that she promised, through the Princess Galitzin, to 
 accord him the same rank as he held in France, "and 
 the emoluments necessary to sustain it.'* Mile. Clairon, 
 however, fell ill, and illness gave her time for reflection. 
 She remembered that she was seven years older than her 
 lover, who was a very gallant gentleman indeed, and 
 very far from an example of fidelity ; as her charms 
 waned, she could hardly flatter herself that he would 
 become more constant. She remembered, too, the dif- 
 ference in station ; she thought of the indignation of 
 the count's family, and she asked herself whether, in 
 years to come, he would not reproach her with having 
 taken him at his word. 
 
 Finally, she came to the conclusion that "the soul 
 capable of rejecting all the advantages which are offered 
 
 while the actress was sitting to him. "You are indeed fortunate," 
 said he to the painter, ' to have been inspired by such a model ; " and, 
 turning to the lady, added : " And you, Mademoiselle, have reason to 
 congratulate yourself on being immortalised by such an artist." He 
 then announced his intention of defraying the cost of the frame, which 
 came to 5000 livres. 
 
 1 Forty thousand francs a year, a house, a coach, and a table for 
 six persons.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 321 
 
 is a thousand times more noble than the one that accepts 
 them," and declined to expatriate herself. 1 The Princess 
 Galitzin was not the only distinguished foreigner to seek 
 to perpetuate the genius of Mile. Clairon. Garrick, who 
 had seen her act at Lille, during his first visit to France in 
 1742, and prophesied a great future for her, though 
 this, of course, was in comedy came to Paris, with his 
 wife, after the conclusion of peace in 1763, on their way 
 to Italy. A warm friendship sprang up between the 
 great English actor and the Queen of the French stage, 
 and so delighted was Garrick with the tragedienne's talent 
 that he commissioned Gravelot to engrave a design, 
 representing Mile. Clairon " in all the attributes of 
 Tragedy," her arm resting on a pile of books, on which 
 might be read the names of Corneille, Racine, Voltaire, 
 and Crbillon. 2 By her side stood Melpomene crowning 
 her with laurel. At the top of the frame, on a ribbon 
 encircled by an olive branch, one read : 
 
 " Prophetic Accomplie." 
 And on a tablet at the base, the following verses : 
 
 " J'ai predit que Clairon illustrerait la scene, 
 Et mon esprit rfa point 6te" dcu : 
 Elle a couronn Melpomene, 
 Melpomene lui rend ce qu'elle en a recu." 
 
 GARRICK. 
 
 1 Memolres tie Mademoiselle Clairon (edit. I799)> 307 e t seq. 
 
 2 In reference to the arrangement of these names, Monnet wrote to 
 Garrick : " The drawing you gave Mile. Clairon is engraved ; it is now 
 on sale, and M. de Crebillon is annoyed because they have placed his 
 father after Voltaire, that is to say, below him : it is the last of the 
 volumes on which Mile. Clairon is leaning. I have thrown the blame on 
 M. Gravelot, telling him that you held too high an opinion of his father's 
 talent to commit such an error." " Private Correspondence of David 
 Garrick," ii. 442, 
 
 X
 
 322 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 The following year, the Comte de Valbelle and a 
 M. de Villepinte, another warm admirer of the actress, 
 caused a gold medal to be struck in the lady's honour. 
 On the face of this medal was Gravelot's allegorical 
 design ; while the reverse bore this inscription : 
 
 L'Amiti6 
 
 Et Melpomene 
 
 Ont Fait Frapper 
 
 Cette 
 
 MEDAILLE 
 
 EN 1764. 
 
 The pleasure which the lady derived from this piece 
 of adulation must have been considerably discounted by 
 the publication of the following mordant epigram, from 
 the pen of the dramatist Saint-Foix, of whose works she 
 appears to have spoken slightingly : 
 
 " Pour la fameuse Fr^tillon 
 Us ont os frapper un medallion ; 
 Mais a quelque prix qu'on le donne, 
 Fut-ce douze sous, fut-ce me'me pour un, 
 II ne sera jamais aussi commun 
 Que le fut jadis sa personnel' l 
 
 The pride of Mile. Clairon, in those days, knew no 
 bounds. " Madame de Pompadour," said she, one day, 
 " owes her sovereignty to chance ; I owe mine to the 
 power of my genius ! " She treated even the most 
 distinguished of her colleagues with haughty disdain, 
 and often with the grossest discourtesy ; and poor 
 
 1 Colle, Journal ft Memoircs, iii. 6. Colle was himself intensely 
 disgusted by the conduct of Mile. Clairon's fanatical admirers, and 
 declares that if medals were to be struck in honour of an actress, who, 
 after all, was nothing but a parrot, then statues nay, pyramids ought 
 to be raised to the authors whose works she interpreted.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 323 
 
 Mile. Dangeville, the object of her childish adoration 
 and the most sweet-tempered and inoffensive of women, 
 retired from the stage ten years earlier than she would 
 otherwise have done, vowing that it was " impossible to 
 live any longer with such a creature." As for the younger 
 actresses, they positively trembled before her ; while, 
 with the exception of Voltaire, whose admiration for 
 her she condescended to reciprocate, there is said to 
 have been not a single dramatic author of the time 
 whom she had not insulted. The public she appears 
 to have regarded very much as a queen might her 
 subjects. On the occasion of a free performance at the 
 Comedie, given by order of the King, she came on to the 
 stage between the two pieces and threw handfuls of silver 
 into the pit ; and the worthy Parisians, quite gulled by 
 this piece of theatrical quackery, cried, as they scrambled 
 for the money, " Vvue le Roi et Mile. Clairon ! " 
 
 Nevertheless, in spite of her arrogance and absurd 
 pretensions, Mile. Clairon had the interests of her 
 profession sincerely at heart. She was, according to 
 her own expression, the charge-d? affaires ^ the advocate, 
 and the postillion of the Comedie-Fransaise, and it was 
 always to her that her comrades turned when in any 
 difficulty or perplexity. It was through her influence, 
 joined to that of the Comte de Lauraguais, that the 
 absurd custom of allowing the more distinguished 
 members of the audience seats upon the stage itself 
 a custom which seriously hampered the movements 
 of the players and was utterly destructive of all scenic 
 illusion was finally abolished. A word from her was 
 sufficient to secure the payment of the overdue royal 
 pension to the Comedie, which the semainiers had 
 vainly solicited from the Comptroller-General ; and
 
 324 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 she laboured zealously, if unsuccessfully, to free her 
 profession from the ban of the Church, which had 
 weighed so long and so heavily upon it. 
 
 In the spring of 1761, there was published, at 
 Amsterdam, a little volume, entitled Libertt de la 
 France centre le pouvoir arbitraire de V excommunication, 
 outrage dont est specialement redevablc aux sentiments 
 genereux et superieurs de Mile. Clai . . . This book, 
 which was the work of one Huerne de la Mothe, 
 an advocate of the Parliament of Paris, had been 
 inspired by Mile. Clairon, and was preceded by a 
 letter from the actress to the author, in which she 
 announced to the public that she hesitated to exercise 
 her profession any longer, owing to her fear of the 
 excommunication to which it subjected her. The bigots, 
 ecclesiastical and lay, who were very roughly handled in 
 the book, were exasperated to the last degree ; the 
 Grand'Chambre issued a decree ordering the obnoxious 
 work to be burned by the public executioner in the 
 Place de Greve, and poor Huerne de la Mothe was 
 struck off the roll of advocates. Mile. Clairon, how- 
 ever, who felt herself to be the cause of his misfortune, 
 did not allow him to suffer by his championship of 
 her profession, and persuaded the Due de Choiseul to 
 nominate him to a lucrative post in the Ministry of 
 Foreign Affairs. 
 
 Mile. Clairon had many enemies : enemies in her 
 own profession, enemies in the fashionable world, and 
 enemies in the Republic of Letters. Two of the most 
 formidable among the last-named were La Harpe and 
 Freron, the critic, the sworn foe of the philosophers. 
 La Harpe hated her, it is said, because she had con-
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 325 
 
 temptuously refused to act in his plays ; Freron, because 
 of her friendship with the elders of the Holy Philoso- 
 phical Church, and, more especially, with its Patriarch, 
 Voltaire, under whose blistering ridicule he had long 
 writhed. La Harpe contented himself by making 
 epigrams about her in society ; but Freron went 
 further, and dared to attack her in print. 
 
 There had recently appeared at the Com&iie a young, 
 charming, accomplished, and, mirabile dictu, virtuous 
 actress, named Mile. d'Oligny, best remembered in 
 theatrical history as the original representative of Rosine 
 in Beaumarchais's Barbier de Seville* Freron, who 
 prided himself on being one of the first to discover 
 the talent of this lady, could not resist the temptation 
 of contrasting her blameless life with that of Mile 
 Clairon, and proceeded to do so in a remarkably 
 effective manner. 
 
 In his Annee litteraire^ under date January 17, 1765, 
 appeared an eloge in verse of Mile. d'Oligny, "who 
 had never consented to listen to any proposition of 
 fortune, at the expense of her innocence," followed by 
 a paragraph written by Freron himself, which, although 
 she was not actually mentioned by name, no one could 
 have the least doubt referred to Mile. Clairon : 
 
 " One will be grateful to the author for having laid 
 stress, in his just eloge of Mile. d'Oligny, on her irre- 
 proachable conduct up to the present. May we always 
 
 1 She refused first, the protection, and, afterwards, the hand of the 
 Marquis de Gouffier, the latter on the ground that "while esteeming 
 herself too much to be his mistress, she esteemed herself too little to be 
 his wife." On her retirement from the stage in 1783, Louis XVI. 
 granted her a special pension, " as if to show that virtue under his reign 
 was as profitable as vice had been under hi predecessor." Hawkins, 
 "The French Stage in the Eighteenth Century," ii. 107 and 299.
 
 326 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 bear in mind that the Muses are chaste, and that they 
 ought never to sing of libertinism and prostitution ! 
 Talents of the rarest order, or regarded as such, do 
 not efface the opprobrium of a dissolute life. One 
 may accord a certain measure of esteem to the per- 
 formance of the actress, but the seal of contempt is 
 always stamped upon her person. It is in vain that, 
 after having acquired a disgraceful celebrity through 
 vice, she affects a grave and reserved manner. This 
 tardy and false decorum only serves to form a revolting 
 contrast with a youth of infamy, and I do not know 
 whether one does not prefer that a creature of this 
 species should constantly show herself what she has 
 been, rather than appear what she is not. The frank- 
 ness of libertinism is, in point of fact, less shocking 
 than the mournful simulation of dignity." i 
 
 Terrible was the wrath of the insulted actress. To 
 the Gentlemen of the Chamber she flew, and announced 
 her intention of quitting the stage forthwith, and for 
 ever, unless condign punishment was immediately inflicted 
 on this vile scribbler who had dared to traduce her. 
 
 To pacify her, an order was issued for the arrest of 
 Freron and his incarceration in For l'Evque. But 
 when the police proceeded to his house to execute it, 
 they found the critic in the agonies of gout : agonies 
 so acute that it was impossible, he declared, to move 
 a step without enduring torments ; and his friends 
 contrived to obtain a suspension of his sentence until 
 he should be in a fit state to leave his bed. As may 
 be supposed, this was not for some days, and, in the 
 meantime, the devout Queen, Marie Leczinska, whose 
 
 1 L? Anntc litteraire par M. Freron t Lettre V. Janvier 1 7, cited by 
 Edmond de Goncourt.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 327 
 
 father had stood sponsor to one of Frron's children, 
 and who regarded that worthy as the champion of the 
 Faith against the attacks of the philosophers, intervened 
 on his behalf and obtained a further respite. 
 
 Mile. Clairon refused to abide by the Queen's 
 decision, reiterated her determination to retire from the 
 stage if Freron were not punished, and demanded an 
 audience of the Prime Minister, the Due de Choiseul. 
 
 " Justice ! " cried she, in tragic accents, the moment 
 she was ushered into his presence. "Justice, Monsieur 
 le Due ! " 
 
 " Mademoiselle," replied the Minister, with mock 
 gravity, " you and I both perform on a stage, but 
 there is this difference between us : you choose the 
 parts which you prefer, and are sure of the applause 
 of the public. There are only a few persons of bad 
 taste, such as this wretched Freron, who refuse you 
 their suffrages. I, on the contrary, have often a very 
 disagreeable task ; I strive to do my best, and am 
 criticised, condemned, hissed, and ridiculed ; yet, I 
 remain at my post. Let us both of us sacrifice our 
 private resentments to the good of our country, and 
 serve it, each in our own way, to the best of our ability. 
 And, besides, the Queen having pardoned, you can, with- 
 out compromising your dignity, imitate her Majesty's 
 clemency." 
 
 Mile. Clairon, far from mollified by this badinage, 
 returned home, and called a meeting of her friends 
 and the members of the Comedie, presided over by the 
 Due de Duras, at which it was determined that the 
 Comte de Saint-Florentin, Commandeur des Ordres to 
 the King, should be threatened with the desertion of 
 the entire troupe, unless speedy justice were done to the
 
 328 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 modern Melpomene. " This line of conduct," writes 
 Bachaumont, " has greatly disturbed M. de Saint- 
 Florentin. This Minister has written to the Queen, 
 stating that the affair has become one of the vastest 
 importance ; that for a very long time no matter of 
 such serious import has been discussed at Court ; that, 
 in fact, the Court is divided into two factions on the 
 question ; and that, despite his profound respect for the 
 commands of her Majesty, he much fears that he will be 
 compelled to obey the original orders of the King." 
 
 However, eventually, the matter was allowed to rest, 
 and, by the irony of Fate, barely two months had passed 
 before Mile. Clairon herself was sent to For TEve'que. 
 And this was how it came about. 
 
 After the Easter recess of that year, the Comedie- 
 Francaise was announced to open with De Belloy's phe- 
 nomenally successful tragedy, Le Siege de Calais^ then 
 at the height of its popularity. All the boxes had been 
 engaged for several performances, and there was every 
 indication of a most successful season. An unexpected 
 incident ruined everything. "An actor named Dubois, 
 who," says Grimm, " had for the last twenty-nine years 
 enjoyed the confidence of all the tragic heroes," had 
 a dispute over a bill with a surgeon named Benoit, 
 whose professional services he had had occasion to seek, 
 under somewhat discreditable circumstances. Dubois 
 declared that he had paid the bill ; Benoit was equally 
 positive that he had not, and commenced proceedings 
 to recover the amount owing. The actor's colleagues, 
 annoyed to find one of their number mixed up in such 
 an affair, brought the matter to the notice of the 
 Gentlemen of the Chamber, who gave them permission 
 to decide upon it themselves. They, accordingly, held
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 329 
 
 an inquiry, found that Dubois had lied indeed, he 
 confessed as much and, at the instigation of Mile. 
 Clairon, and with the approval of the Gentlemen of 
 the Chamber, expelled him and another actor named 
 Blainville, who had given evidence in his comrade's 
 favour, from the troupe. 
 
 Now, it happened that Dubois had a very pretty 
 daughter, "who possessed the power," says Mile. 
 Clairon, " of rendering the Gentlemen of the Chamber 
 as happy as they could desire to be." Like a dutiful 
 child, she warmly espoused the cause of the cashiered 
 actor, and, rushing, with dishevelled hair, into the 
 presence of the Due de Fronsac son of the Marechal 
 de Richelieu who in days gone by had been in the 
 habit of paying her matutinal visits, disguised as a 
 coffee-house waiter, besought his intervention on behalf 
 of her unhappy father, the innocent victim, she declared, 
 of the machinations of Mile. Clairon. 
 
 The young duke, who still retained for the lady 
 some remains of affection, promised to do what he could, 
 with the result that on April 15, about three hours be- 
 fore the play was announced to begin, an order arrived 
 from Versailles, to the effect that Dubois was to be 
 allowed to take his usual part, until the King should 
 decide on his fitness to remain a royal player. 
 
 A meeting of the company was hurriedly summoned, 
 and a deputation sent to one of the Gentlemen of the 
 Chamber who happened to be in Paris, to endeavour 
 to obtain a rescission of the order, for that evening 
 at least. But the deputation returned and reported 
 the failure of its mission ; the " Gentleman " had pro- 
 fessed himself unable to do anything without consulting 
 his colleagues. Thereupon, five members of the troupe,
 
 330 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Mile. Clairon, Lekain, Brizard, Mole, and d'Auberval, 
 declared their intention of refusing to play. Cost them 
 what it might, they were absolutely determined never 
 to appear upon the stage with Dubois again. Such 
 was the position of affairs, when, at half-past five, the 
 Comedie opened its doors. Let us listen to Colic's 
 account of the scene which followed : 
 
 " The audience assembled to witness Le Siege de 
 Calais; it had been impossible to change the bills an- 
 nouncing the performance. When half-past five came, 
 Lekain, Mol6, and Brizard had not arrived. Mile. 
 Clairon had shown herself, but, perceiving and knowing 
 that these gentlemen had no intention of appearing, 
 did not take the trouble to dress, and went home in the 
 sedan-chair which had brought her to the theatre. The 
 remainder of the players, who were very reluctant to 
 acquaint the public with this unwelcome news, were 
 at a loss what to do. Ultimately, towards six o'clock, 
 one of them left his comrades, went on to the stage, 
 and began, in trembling accents, to address the audience 
 with : * Messieurs, we are in despair ' He was inter- 
 rupted by some one in the pit, who shouted, ' We 
 want no despair ! Calais I ' And, in an instant, the 
 entire public took up the cry and shouted : ' Calais ! 
 Calais!' 
 
 " After this first tumult had somewhat subsided, the 
 actor wished to commence his speech, but the audience 
 declined to hear any more. Some minutes passed thus, 
 and then the actor briefly explained the impossibility 
 of performing the tragedy in question, and proposed to 
 play Le Joueur in its place, or to return the public their 
 money ; only to be received with renewed cries, more 
 violent than before, of * Calais ! Calais ! '
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 331 
 
 " A moment later, Preville, the idol of the public, 
 came on to the stage and endeavoured to begin the first 
 scene of Le Joueur, but was interrupted, hooted, and 
 hissed by the audience, who cried in a kind of frenzy : 
 ' Calais ! ' Several persons in the pit, who were aware 
 that it was through the intrigues and machinations of 
 Mile. Clairon that the players had so signally failed the 
 public, shouted : 'Calais, et Clairon en prison ! Fretillon a 
 rhdpital / * Fretillon aux cabanons ! ' 
 
 " No doubt the majority of those who uttered these 
 blasphemies were partisans of the Dubois, who had been 
 posted by her and her father in the pit. This pande- 
 monium, which might have become a scene of blood- 
 shed, if the Guards on duty had chosen to interfere, 
 lasted until seven o'clock, when the audience had their 
 money returned to them." 
 
 The following morning, there was a consultation 
 between Sartines, the Lieutenant of Police, and the 
 Gentlemen of the Chamber, when it was decided to 
 make an example of Mile. Clairon and the other 
 recalcitrant players. The actress, who happened to be 
 unwell, was in bed, and her friend Madame de Sauvigny, 
 wife of the Intendant of Paris, was nursing her, when 
 an inspector of police arrived and intimated that he had 
 an order from the King to conduct Mile. Clairon to 
 For 1'Eveque. Madame de Sauvigny protested against 
 the arrest of her " best friend," but the exempt was 
 inexorable, and Mile. Clairon informed him that she 
 would submit to the orders of the King. " All that I 
 have," cried she, in her best stage manner, " is at his 
 
 1 To which institution women of loose character who had misbehaved 
 themselves were sent. 
 
 2 Colle, Memoires et Journal^ iii. 2J et seq.
 
 332 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 Majesty's disposal my property, my person, and my life 
 are in his hands. But my honour is untouched, and of 
 that not even the King can deprive me." 
 
 The man of law bethought him of an old legal 
 maxim. " Very true, Mademoiselle," he replied, " for 
 where there is nothing, the King loses his rights." 
 
 Madame de Sauvigny insisted that Mile. Clairon 
 should proceed to For l'Eve"que in her own carriage and 
 announced her intention of accompanying her. But, 
 as the carriage in question happened to be a vis-h-vis, 
 and the exempt refused to lose sight of his prisoner, the 
 noble lady was constrained to seat her friend upon her 
 knees, and in this singular fashion they traversed the 
 streets of Paris. 1 
 
 At For I'Eve'que, the famous actress was treated 
 more like a distinguished guest than a prisoner. The 
 most comfortable room available was allotted her, and 
 furnished in luxurious fashion by her sympathising 
 friends, the Duchesses de Duras and de Villeroi and 
 Madame de Sauvigny ; the courtyard of the fortress was 
 crowded every day by the carriages of those who came 
 to offer her their sympathy, and she was permitted 
 to give delightful little supper parties. In less than 
 a week, a complaisant physician having certified that 
 further detention would be prejudicial to the lady's 
 health, she was permitted to return home, under certain 
 conditions, which she alludes to in a letter to Garrick, 
 in answer to one of sympathy from the English actor : 
 
 "PARIS, May 9, 1765. 
 
 "My. soul, penetrated by a treatment as barbarous 
 as it is unjust, had need, my dear friend, of the pleasure 
 
 1 Colic, Memoires et Journal, Hi. 31.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 333 
 
 that your letter has brought to it. This letter has 
 interrupted for some moments the indignation and grief 
 which consume me. Never has my health occasioned 
 me so much anxiety, never have the mischances to which 
 I am subjected been so multiplied, so violent. But be 
 tranquil ; my courage is superior to all my misfortunes. 
 
 " Will you credit it ? my comrades are still in 
 prison ! I myself was released the fifth day, but have 
 been placed under arrest at my house, and prohibited 
 from receiving more than six specified persons. It is 
 said that Dubois has tendered his resignation ; it is to 
 be hoped that it will be accepted, and that we shall 
 be at liberty this evening or to-morrow ; it is time we 
 were ! As they have refused to permit any of my 
 comrades to come and see me, I am in ignorance of what 
 they think and what they intend to do. 
 
 " I am resolved not to give them any advice, but to 
 occupy myself only with my own position, and, above 
 all, with the esteem of honest people ; I dare to be con- 
 fident that I shall obtain that. I shall not share with 
 you my reflections on the past, the present, and the 
 future ; not that I fear to submit them to your intelli- 
 gence and your friendship, but because my letter might 
 be opened, and they might misinterpret me ; and I do 
 not wish to afford them any pretext for persecution. 
 Embrace Madame Garrick for me, and rest assured both 
 of you that I love, esteem, and regret you as much as 
 possible, and as you have the right to expect from the 
 most sensitive and grateful of hearts. 
 
 "CLAIRON." 1 
 
 1 "Private Correspondence of David Garrick," ii. 432. Soon after 
 this, Garrick very generously offered Mile. Clairon a loan of 500 guineas, 
 which, however, was not accepted.
 
 334 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 After about three weeks of seclusion, Mile. Clairon 
 was permitted to resume her ordinary life, and as Dubois, 
 the cause of all the trouble, had now resigned, it was 
 anticipated that she would appear again upon the stage. 
 On the plea of ill-health, however, she declined to return 
 to the theatre, and, about the middle of June, it was 
 common knowledge that the actress had requested per- 
 mission to retire from the stage. The Marechal de 
 Richelieu, First Gentleman of the Chamber, refused her 
 request, asserting that he would never consent to sign 
 her ordre de retraite during his year of office, but offered 
 to grant her leave of absence till the following Easter 
 that is to say, until the end of the theatrical year, in 
 order that she might have time to go to Geneva and 
 consult the celebrated doctor, Tronchin. 
 
 To Geneva she accordingly went, and obtained the 
 advice she came to seek ; Tronchin, who, great man 
 though he was, was not above humouring the whims of 
 his distinguished patients, assuring her that he would not 
 answer for the consequences if she returned to the stage. 
 
 From Geneva she proceeded to Ferney, in response 
 to a pressing invitation from its master, who assured her 
 that it was " a temple where incense was burning for her," 
 and that " to see and hear her would be his Fountain 
 of Youth." 
 
 When she reached Ferney, Voltaire was ill, but no 
 sooner had she declaimed her part in his Orphelin de 
 la Chine, than he professed himself completely cured. 
 During her stay, she performed several times in the little 
 theatre of the chateau, playing Amena'lde in Tancrede 
 and Electre in Oreste, and the delighted poet wrote to 
 d'Argental that in the latter character " she had shaken 
 the Alps and Mont Jura " ; while, in a letter to Monnet,
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 335 
 
 he declared that she had " made him feel twenty years 
 younger." 1 
 
 On leaving Ferney Mile. Clairon went to Provence, 
 to visit the Comte de Valbelle. While there, she 
 attended the theatre at Marseilles, and, on being recog- 
 nised, was loudly cheered by the occupants of the pit, 
 who cried : " Le Siege de Calais et Mile. Clairon ! " and 
 refused to desist until the governor of the province, 
 the Due de Villars, had promised to do all he could to 
 persuade the actress to gratify them. 
 
 At the beginning of November, she was again in 
 Paris, where great pressure was brought to bear upon 
 her to induce her to reconsider her determination to 
 retire from the stage. On one condition only would she 
 consent to forget the horrors of For I'Eve'que, namely, 
 that the Comedie-Fran9aise should be erected into a 
 Royal Academy of the Drama, which would have the 
 effect of giving a legal status to its members, and would 
 pave the way for the removal of the ecclesiastical ban. 
 A petition was accordingly drawn up, which had the 
 support of the Due de Duras, the Due d'Aumont, and 
 several other important personages, and submitted to the 
 
 1 It seems to have been as a kind of return for the homage paid her 
 at Ferney, that, towards the end of 1772, Mile. Clairon organised, at 
 her house in Paris, the apotheosis of Voltaire, " in which she displayed 
 all the riches of her imagination." " The bust of Voltaire," says 
 Bachaumont, " was placed pompously in the midst of the assembly, when 
 M. Marmontel, the coryphee of the house, presented an ode, composed by 
 himself, in honour of the new god of Pindar. Mile. Clairon, habited as 
 a priestess of Apollo, placed a crown of laurel on the bust, and recited 
 the ode with the most vehement enthusiasm. The assembly applauded 
 loudly." This piece of adulation, grotesque though it was, seems to have 
 been far from displeasing to the Patriarch, who returned thanks in a letter 
 in verse, wherein he assured the lady that " his glory was entirely her 
 work." Gueullette, Acteurs et Actrices du Temps passe, p. 316.
 
 336 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 King. But, owing apparently to the maladroit way in 
 which the Due de Duras, who had charge of the memoir, 
 presented his case, it was refused ; and, at the following 
 Easter, Mile. Clairon demanded her conge, which was 
 accorded her. Here is the ordre de retraite : 
 
 " We, Marechal Due de Richelieu, pair de France, 
 First Gentleman of the King's Chamber ; 
 
 " We, Due de Duras, pair de France, First Gentleman 
 of the King's Chamber ; 
 
 " Mile. Clairon, after having served the King and 
 the public for twenty-two years with the greatest assi- 
 duity and the greatest attention, finding herself com- 
 pelled, on account of her health, to quit the theatre, we 
 have accorded her leave to retire, with the pension in 
 conformity with the regulations. 
 -(Signed) 
 
 "THE MARECHAL Due DE RICHELIEU. 
 " THE Due DE DuRAS. 1 
 
 " Executed at Paris, April 23, 1766." 
 
 For some years after her retirement from the stage 
 Mile. Clairon resided in a house near the Pont-Royal, 
 where Marmontel speaks of her receptions as " numerous 
 and brilliant." She frequently consented to recite some 
 of her famous roles at the houses of her aristocratic 
 friends, and Horace Walpole writes, under date August 
 23, 1767 : "Arrived in Paris at a quarter before seven; 
 
 1 Mile. Clairon had demanded a pension of 1500 livres, though 
 thirty years' service was required to entitle her to this. It is probable, 
 however, that her request would have been granted, but for the opposition 
 of Lekain, who had not forgiven her for her treatment of him in years 
 gone by.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 337 
 
 at eight to Madame du Deffand's ; found the Clairon 
 acting Agrippine and Phedre ; not tall, but I like her 
 acting better than I expected. Supped with her and the 
 Duchesses de Villeroi and d'Aiguillon." 
 
 Although she never again appeared on the boards of 
 the Comdie-Fran9aise, the great tragedienne performed 
 on several occasions in private theatres. On February 
 19, 1767, she played Zelmire in De Belloy's tragedy of 
 that name, at the Hotel d'Esclapon, Rue de Vaugirard, 
 at a performance arranged for the benefit of Mole. 1 
 Again, in December 1768, she appeared as Dido and 
 Roxane in Bajazet, at the little theatre belonging to the 
 Duchesse de Villeroi, before the King of Denmark and 
 the Prince of Saxe-Gotha. Grimm writes: 
 
 " The Duchesse de Villeroi has reserved to herself 
 the right of doing the honours to Mile. Clairon in her 
 little theatre. This celebrated actress played there twice, 
 in the presence of the King of Denmark, the Hereditary 
 Prince of Saxe-Gotha, and a little chosen company, for 
 the theatre can only accommodate a hundred and ten 
 persons. The first time, she played the part of Dido, 
 and the second, that of Roxane, in the tragedy of Bajazet. 
 After the play, she was presented by Madame de Villeroi 
 to her august spectator, who drew a ring from his finger 
 and placed it on the finger of the actress ; but I know 
 that, in spite of this royal courtesy, he had not the 
 happiness to succeed with the illustrious Clairon. In 
 her quality of Dido, she will not have found him tender 
 enough ; in her quality of Roxane, she will not have 
 found him sufficiently humble ; in her quality of Clairon, 
 
 1 The takings, at a louis a head, amounted to 24,000 livres, which 
 sum, if we are to believe Bachaumont, was spent by Mole, not in paying 
 his debts, but in buying diamonds for his mistress. 
 
 Y
 
 338 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 she will not have found him sufficiently penetrated with 
 admiration. In fact, notwithstanding the infatuation of 
 the Court and the town for the young monarch, he has 
 had the misfortune to displease the heroine of the 
 Theatre-Frauds." l 
 
 Finally, on the occasion of the fe"tes at Versailles, in 
 honour of the marriage of the Dauphin and Marie- 
 Antoinette, in the spring of 1770, Mile. Clairon 
 appeared as Athalie and Amena'fde. But five years of 
 retirement had naturally not been without their effect 
 upon her powers, and her acting seems to have caused 
 general disappointment. Perhaps her unfortunate choice 
 of a gown, " half-brown, half-yellow, which gave her the 
 appearance of a shrivelled-up old woman," had not a 
 little to do with her comparative failure as Voltaire's 
 heroine. 
 
 An impression prevailed at this time that had 
 Louis XV. only condescended to express a desire that 
 Mile. Clairon should return to the Comedie-Fran9aise, 
 she would have consented to do so. But Louis XV. 
 was not such an admirer of the lady's acting as Voltaire 
 indeed, he seems to have preferred Mile. Dumesnil 
 and when, three years before, Mile. Clairon had caused 
 him to be informed that she was prepared to play at 
 Versailles as often as his Majesty might command her, 
 had replied, to her intense chagrin, that he found the 
 other actresses very capable. 2 
 
 On her retirement from the theatre, Mile. Clairon 
 had opened a kind of dramatic academy. Here she 
 trained a number of aspirants to histrionic fame, several 
 of whom were destined to make their mark in years to 
 
 1 Correspondance litter air e^ vi. 75. 
 2 Letter of Madame Riccoboni to Garrick, January 29, 1767.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 339 
 
 come. Among these may be mentioned the beautiful 
 Mile. Raucourt, herself, in her turn, the Queen of the 
 Com6die-Fran?aise, and that excellent actor, Larive. 
 
 For Larive, the ex-fragJdienne appears to have con- 
 ceived an almost maternal affection, leaving no stone 
 unturned to ensure his success upon the stage, and 
 corresponding with him regularly for many years. 
 Her early letters are chiefly of a professional kind : 
 advice as to the way in which certain parts are to 
 be played, as to the costumes suitable to those parts, 
 and so forth. But occasionally we find her descending 
 to more personal matters, rallying him on his bonnes 
 fortunes, and moralising in the style of an indulgent 
 elder brother. 
 
 " You have then made a conquest," she writes, " and 
 of a fine lady, you say ? I am not astonished, since you 
 are a very handsome man. But I cannot prevent myself 
 from telling you that you are a great imbecile. If she 
 is a woman who makes a profession of gallantry, or a 
 marriageable girl, you ought certainly to refuse to 
 have anything to do with her. A man should avoid 
 the first, for fear of accidents, and never have to 
 reproach himself with having corrupted the other. 
 But if she be a married woman or a widow, that is 
 current coin, the property of every one, and you 
 will be doing wrong not to make use of it. No 
 engagement, no prejudice, need restrain you. You 
 are a man, young ; you are bored. Guarantee your- 
 self a serious attachment ; that is an excellent thing ; 
 but why refuse to your senses, and to the necessity of 
 diverting your mind, the tribute which both demand ? " 
 
 In a letter, which, like the above, bears no date, but 
 which was probably written in the summer of 1772, we
 
 340 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 find a person mentioned who was to play a very im- 
 portant part in Mile. Clairon's future life : 
 
 " You have extended your hospitality to a dog ; I 
 have extended mine to a little boy. Mol sent me an 
 unhappy widow with six children in want of bread. I 
 have taken charge of one, and am busying myself in 
 finding means to allow the rest to live. I shall not 
 keep the child at my house; he is a little devil, and 
 that annoys and wearies me. But since he bears a close 
 resemblance to the Margrave (of Anspach), whom I am 
 expecting to see arrive here this autumn, I have taken 
 the child, in the hope of sending him to Germany. If 
 that plan falls through, I shall put him to a trade, 
 and pay his apprenticeship to whatever one his mother 
 may choose." 
 
 Christian Frederick Charles Alexander, Margrave of 
 Anspach, Baireuth, and Brandenburg, Duke of Prussia, 
 Count of Sayn, was the son of Frederick the Great's sister, 
 Frederika Louise, and that potentate's favourite nephew. 
 Born in 1736, and married, against his will, by his father, 
 to a princess of Saxe-Coburg, " who resembled a faded 
 lily which had begun to grow yellow," he spent the 
 greater part of his time in travelling in Italy, Holland, 
 and France, and " gratifying his tastes for the arts and 
 feminine society.*' 
 
 The Margrave was not handsome, in fact, his ap- 
 pearance was distinctly unprepossessing. He had " a re- 
 treating forehead, sunken eyes, a nose like a trumpet, an 
 enormously long peaked chin, and a long ungainly neck." 
 On the other hand, he was well-educated, sensible, and 
 good-natured ; " the best prince in Germany," said the
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 341 
 
 Austrian Chancellor, Kaunitz, who was certainly in a 
 position to judge. 
 
 The Margrave fell in love with Mile. Clairon, who, 
 though nearly old enough to be his mother, was still 
 pretty ; and, on the occasion of one of his frequent 
 visits to Paris, invited her to return with him to 
 Anspach and be his Margravine of the left-hand. To 
 the ex-tragJdienne, who had so often played the queen 
 upon the stage, the prospect of occupying a quasi- 
 royal position at this little German court was not 
 without its attractions ; perhaps ere long, she thought, 
 the faded-lily princess might wither away altogether, 
 in which event the consort of the left-hand might be- 
 come the consort of the right. Moreover, her vanity 
 was naturally flattered by the homage of a man twelve 
 years her junior, and that man a Serene Highness ! 
 And, finally, it happened that she had just quarrelled 
 violently with the Comte de Valbelle, who, not content 
 with an occasional infidelity, as had been the case in 
 the early days of their connection, had become a sort 
 of professional Don Juan, who " brought daily pretty 
 girls into his park," outraged husbands, supplanted 
 lovers, and, in short, misconducted himself in so 
 shocking a manner that, according to his disgusted 
 mistress, " every one detested him from the bottom 
 of their hearts." 
 
 And so it came about that, one fine day in the spring 
 of 1773, Mile. Clairon bade farewell to all her friends in 
 Paris, and set out for Anspach, whence she wrote to the 
 faithless Valbelle that it was her intention " to consecrate 
 the remainder of her days " to the Margrave. 
 
 At Anspach, Mile. Clairon remained for seventeen 
 years. Our chief source of information in regard to
 
 342 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 this period of her career are her own letters to her 
 old pupil, Larive, with whom she continued to cor- 
 respond regularly. In the earliest of these, she can 
 hardly find words to describe the joys of her new life. 
 
 " I am very well," she writes, shortly after her in- 
 stallation, " and taking into consideration the care, the 
 homage, the comforts, the kindnesses, and the marks 
 of attachment that are lavished upon me, it would 
 be impossible for my heart and my vanity not to 
 be satisfied. My house does not grow less full ; 
 the greatest ladies do me the honour of supping 
 with me. You cannot form any idea of the posi- 
 tion I occupy in this country. I believe that I am 
 in a dream. Sometimes I am tempted to imagine 
 myself a personage . . ." 
 
 And again, under date October 15, 1773 : 
 
 " Would to Heaven, my dear child, that I had you 
 near me ! I should then be able to say that never had I 
 been so happy. Every comfort, no kind of vexation, 
 consideration, a commodious and beautiful house, a 
 well-ordered, pleasant, and honourable life independ- 
 ent of the caprices which formerly troubled me, the 
 impossibility of meeting ungrateful people, of seeing 
 or hearing anything which recalls them, the opportu- 
 nity of doing good all this renders my life infinitely 
 sweet. Add to all these blessings the certainty of 
 making the happiness of the sweetest and kindest 
 being I have ever known. After you had seen him, 
 you would love him : that is nothing ; one cannot 
 form any idea of this good prince, unless you live 
 with him. I see him every day, and am equally as- 
 tonished at his frankness and the noble simplicity that
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 343 
 
 characterises all his actions. It is for such sovereigns 
 that it is just and right to sacrifice one's life, and I 
 feel no regret at having sacrificed mine to him." 
 
 But this enthusiasm does not last long, and, before 
 twelve months have passed, we find Mademoiselle com- 
 plaining of everything at Anspach, from the air to the 
 cooking. In one letter she tells her correspondent 
 that " the air of the country and ennui are killing 
 her"; in another, that she has had to send for a 
 French cook, because the Anspach cooking " displeased 
 as much as it disagreed with her " ; l in a third, that 
 she has had to abandon an attempt to establish a 
 theatre at the Court, " because there are scarcely a 
 dozen persons there who can carry on a conversation 
 in French, while the rest do not understand a word 
 of the language " ; and, in a fourth, that " the women 
 of this country are destitute of every grace to which 
 your eyes are accustomed." 
 
 The fact of the matter was that the Court of 
 Anspach did not approve of the advent of Mile. 
 Clairon ; it feared that her installation would, sooner 
 or later, be followed by an invasion of her compatriots, 
 who would seize upon all the most lucrative posts 
 in the State, and generally upset the established order 
 of things. Neither had the Ministers been educated 
 to serve under a maitresse en titre, as had those of 
 
 l " During this time, Mile. Clairon was living at the Margrave's 
 expense, with four French servants in livery, Madame Senay, her 
 femme-dc-chambrc, and a lackey, besides a French cook. The Margrave 
 supplied her with the best wines from his cellar. Her expenses were 
 enormous, and all paid from the Chamber of Finances of Anspach. 
 These facts I had from the Marechaux of the Court." " Memoirs of 
 Elizabeth Berkeley, Margravine of Anspach," i. 210.
 
 344 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 France ; they resented the interference of a woman 
 especially a foreigner in the counsels of their master, 
 and one of them, if Mile. Clairon is to be believed, 
 actually carried his resentment so far as to conspire 
 against her life. Moreover, although the poor Mar- 
 gravine herself was compelled, through fear of her 
 husband's anger, to treat her rival with courtesy, 
 and even to invite her to her table, the other ladies 
 of the Margrave's family, like the Duchesse of Wtlr- 
 temburg and the Margravine of Baireuth, absolutely 
 refused to recognise the tx~trag4dtetuu t and the feminine 
 portion of the Court seems to have taken its cue 
 from them, rather than from its nominal head. 
 
 However, in spite of difficulties and mortifications, 
 Mile. Clairon remained at her post, and, according to 
 her own account, used the influence she had acquired 
 over the Margrave in a highly beneficent manner ; 
 destroying abuses, reforming the finances, encouraging 
 agriculture, and so forth. She also beautified the city 
 of Anspach by an ornamental fountain, established a 
 hospital, distributed considerable sums in charity, and 
 was very popular among the poorer classes. 
 
 In the course of the year 1789, Mile. Clairon found 
 herself called up to face a rival influence. The eccentric 
 and " infinitamentc indiscreet," 1 but charming and accom- 
 plished Elizabeth, Countess of Craven, descended upon 
 Anspach. The countess had separated from her 
 husband in 1780, since which she had spent the 
 greater part of her time in wandering about the Con- 
 tinent. In the course of her travels, she had met 
 the Margrave, whom she had known when she was a 
 child, and who invited her to Anspach. She came, 
 1 Horace Walpole to Sir Horace Mann, March 7, 1785.
 
 ELIZABETH BERKELEY, COUNTESS OF CRAVEN, 
 
 AFTERWARDS MARGRAVINE OF 
 
 ANSPACH 
 
 After the drawing by Sir JOSHUA REYNOLDS
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 345 
 
 and her stay was a long one. She infused new life 
 into that dull German Court ; she organised a theatre 
 in a disused coach-house, and wrote little plays for it ; 
 she had a garden laid out in the English style, under 
 her direction, at the Margrave's palace of Triesdorf, 
 near Anspach ; she founded a little academy for the 
 encouragement of literature and the arts, and found 
 means to amuse even the unamusable Margravine. 
 Finally, she stole away the heart of the Margrave from 
 his grey-haired Egeria, and wrote to her husband, with 
 whom she still corresponded, that she was to be " treated 
 as a sister." 
 
 At length, Lady Craven left for Paris. Soon after- 
 wards, the Margrave announced his intention of visiting 
 the French capital ; Mile. Clairon decided to accompany 
 him. In Paris, the Margrave favoured her with so little 
 of his company that she felt constrained to inquire the 
 reason. 
 
 The prince returned an evasive answer; Mile. 
 Clairon caused a watch to be kept upon his move- 
 ments, and discovered the fatal truth. So long as 
 the Margrave remained in Paris, the deceived sultana, 
 by a great effort of will, succeeded " in concealing 
 beneath a countenance always calm, and sometimes 
 laughing, the rending tortures of mind and body." 
 But when the prince returned to Anspach, she declined 
 to follow him, and sent instead a long and reproachful 
 letter, wherein she informed him that " his frenzied 
 passion for a woman of whose character, unfortunately, he 
 alone was ignorant, his indifference to public opinion, the 
 license of his new morals, his want of respect for his age 
 and his dignity, obliged her to see in him only one who 
 had thrown aside all restraint and decency in compliance
 
 346 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 with the dictates of a depraved heart, or as one whose 
 disordered intellect, while it excited pity, evinced also 
 the necessity of restraint ; that the veil was now lifted, 
 and she knew herself never to have been anything 
 but the hapless victim of his egotism and his divers 
 caprices ; and that, therefore, with infinite pain, she 
 laid at his feet all the boons she had received from 
 him, and bade him adieu . . . adieu for ever." 
 
 And so ended the last romance of Mile. Clairon, 
 and the only souvenir of her seventeen years' residence 
 at Anspach is a kind of fancy bread, which is called 
 " Clairons Week " unto this day. 1 
 
 As for the faithless Margrave, he was too happy in 
 the society of Lady Craven, who shortly afterwards took 
 up her residence at Anspach, to care much what became 
 of her predecessor in his affections ; and so infatuated did 
 he become with that lady that, on his wife's death in 
 1 79 1, he married her. In the following year, the prince 
 in the face of an eloquent letter of remonstrance from 
 Mile. Clairon sold his margravates of Anspach and 
 Baireuth to the King of Prussia, and migrated, with 
 his wife, to England, where he died in 1806. The 
 Margravine survived her husband more than twenty 
 years, and died, at Naples, in 1828. 
 
 In 1785, during one of the visits to Paris which she 
 had paid in company with the Margrave, Mile. Clairon 
 had purchased a country-house at Issy, and it was here 
 that she now took up her residence. She lived a very 
 quiet life, receiving and visiting a few old friends, and 
 occupying the rest of her time with collecting objects 
 of natural history, which had always been one of her 
 favourite occupations, and the writing of her Memoires. 
 
 1 Edmond de Goncourt, Mademoiselle C/airon, p. 385.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 347 
 
 Madame Vigee Lebrun, the painter, who met Mile. 
 Clairon soon after her return to France, at the house 
 of her former pupil, Larive, has left us the follow- 
 ing impression of the famous tragedienne in her old 
 age : 
 
 " I had pictured to myself that she was very tall ; 
 and, on the contrary, she was very short and very thin ; 
 she held her head very erect, which gave her an air 
 of dignity. I never heard any one speak with so 
 much emphasis, for she retained her tragic tone and airs 
 of a princess ; but she gave me the impression of being 
 clever and well informed. I sat beside her at table, and 
 enjoyed much of her conversation. Larive showed her 
 the greatest respect and attention." * 
 
 Early in the year 1792, Mile. Clairon completed 
 her Memoires, which she entrusted to Henri Meister, 
 the friend of Diderot and the Neckers, who was leaving 
 Paris for Germany, on the condition, so she subsequently 
 asserted, that they should not be given to the world 
 until ten years after her death. One day, however, in 
 1798, she learned, to her astonishment, through an article 
 in a Paris journal, that they had been published in 
 Germany, whereupon she hurriedly brought out a French 
 edition, bearing the title : Memoires d'Hippolyte Clairon 
 et Reflexions sur la declamation theatrale. 
 
 These Memoires, written in an absurdly solemn and 
 grandiloquent style, even for the time, and " inter- 
 spersed," says the admiring editor of the English edition, 
 " with precepts of practical morality which would do 
 honour to our greatest philosophers," reveal to us a very 
 different Clairon from the Clairon of the police-reports 
 and of the memoirs and correspondence of her con- 
 
 1 Souvenirs de Madame Vigee Lebrun, i. 83.
 
 348 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 temporaries ; but, unfortunately, there can be very little 
 doubt which portrait comes nearer the truth. Partly, 
 no doubt, for this reason, they had only a moderate 
 success ; and though several copies bear the words 
 " Seconde edition" they were, as a matter of fact, not 
 reprinted until 1822, when they appeared in the well- 
 known Collection des Mdmoires sur ran dramatique. The 
 most interesting part of the book, in our opinion, are 
 the chapters which the actress devotes to reflections upon 
 her art, some of which may still be read with profit by 
 candidates for histrionic fame. But what aroused most 
 attention at the time the work was published was the 
 celebrated history of the lady's ghost the spectre of a 
 young Breton whom she had pitilessly left to die of love, 
 and who had vowed on his death-bed to haunt her for 
 the remainder of her life. 
 
 Never was there so persistent and vindictive an 
 apparition though the term apparition is perhaps a 
 misnomer, as the shade of the departed never actually 
 showed itself. It was perpetually visiting her at the 
 most unexpected times and in the most unexpected 
 places at her petits soupers, while she was riding in her 
 coach to shop in the Rue Saint-Honore, and so forth. 
 Sometimes its presence was announced by "a long- 
 continued and piteous cry," which so terrified an elderly 
 admirer who happened to be present on one occasion, 
 that he " had to be conducted to his carriage more dead 
 than alive " ; * sometimes by a loud report like that of 
 
 1 Its effect was less terrifying upon " an amorous and jealous inten- 
 dant" who mistook the ghostly visitant's cry for that of a lover in the 
 flesh, and had the bad taste to remark to Mile. Clairon that "the signals 
 of her rendezvous were somewhat too noisy." And this after the poor 
 lady had just recovered from a swoon lasting nearly a quarter of an 
 hour!
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 349 
 
 a musket ; at others by " a noise like the clapping of 
 hands " ; and finally, by " a celestial voice singing the 
 most tender and pathetic airs." * No solution of these 
 singular phenomena was ever forthcoming, though the 
 assistance of the police was invoked in order to probe 
 the mystery. But the most probable explanation 
 is a little plot on the part of some friends of 
 the young Breton to read the lady a much-needed 
 lesson. 
 
 On her retirement from the stage, Mile. Clairon had 
 been in possession of a comfortable fortune, producing 
 an income of some 18,000 livres; and though this had 
 been considerably reduced by the financial jugglery of 
 the Abbe Terrai, the loss had been subsequently repaired 
 by the sale of her jewellery, art treasures, and natural 
 history collection, which had realised 90,000 livres. 
 In her old age, however, she fell into great poverty, 
 though to attribute her financial losses to the Revolution 
 which swept away so many fortunes as have several 
 writers, would appear to be without justification, as on 
 Fructidor 26, Year III., at a time when money was ex- 
 ceedingly scarce, we find her writing to a M. Perignon, 
 advocate, requesting him to find her a secure investment 
 for a sum of 24,000 livres ; while so late as October 9, 
 1 80 1, when she made her will, she would appear, to 
 judge by the various bequests she makes, to have been 
 still in easy circumstances. 2 
 
 On the other hand, there can be no question that 
 between that date and her death, fifteen months later, 
 she was reduced to great distress, as witness the following 
 appeal addressed to Chaptal, the Minister of the Interior, 
 
 1 Memoires de Mademoiselle Clairon (edit. 1799), p. I et scq. 
 
 2 Edmond de Goncourt, Mademoiselle Clairon, p. 466.
 
 350 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 and in response to which she received an order on the 
 Treasury for 2000 livres : 
 
 " CITIZEN MINISTER, For a month past I have been 
 vainly seeking a protector to bring me to your notice ; 
 but if it be true that you are of a generous disposition, 
 it is to you alone that I should address myself. Seventy- 
 nine years of age, almost in want of the necessaries of 
 life, celebrated at one time by the possession of some 
 talents, I wait at your door until you condescend to 
 grant me a moment. CLAIRON." 
 
 In good truth, an object-lesson for the moralist to 
 dilate upon ! Clairon, the haughty, the incomparable 
 Clairon, the idol of town and theatre ; Clairon, to have 
 met whom in society was the proudest boast of the 
 braggart in Candide ; Clairon, for whose smiles a King 
 (according to Grimm) had sighed in vain, and a Serene 
 Highness not in vain ; Clairon, whose classic features 
 had been painted by Van Loo and sculptured by 
 Lemoine ; Clairon, in whose honour gold medals had 
 been struck, and whose praises " bards sublime " had 
 chanted forced to beg her bread at the door of a 
 Minister ! 
 
 At the time when the above letter was written, the 
 old actress had removed from Issy, and was living in the 
 Rue de Lille with a Madame de la Rianderie, 2 the widow 
 of an officer in the Gardes-Francaises. Here she was 
 visited by Lemontey, who describes her as a little, 
 
 1 Gueullette, Acteurs et Actr'tces du Temps passe, p. 320. 
 
 2 Marie Pauline Menard. Mile. Clairon had adopted her when a 
 little girl and provided her dot, which led to a widespread belief that she 
 was her natural daughter. This, however, was not the case.
 
 MADEMOISELLE CLAIRON 351 
 
 withered old woman, feeble and sickly, but still retain- 
 ing something of her majestic manner, and who spoke to 
 him in a voice which had lost but little of its power and 
 sweetness. Observing a little boy who had accompanied 
 the historian, she motioned him to approach, saying : 
 " Make that child come here. He will be very pleased 
 to be able to say one day that he has seen and spoken 
 to Mile. Clairon." 
 
 Another of her visitors was the English actor John 
 Kemble, to whom she recited a scene from Phedre with 
 a majesty and fire truly astonishing in one so old 
 and frail. 
 
 Mile. Clairon died on January 31, 1803, six days 
 after completing her eightieth year. 
 
 Animated to the last by the pride which had domi- 
 nated her whole life, Mile. Clairon bequeathed to the 
 nation her marble bust by Lemoine and the gold medal 
 which Valbelle and Villepinte had caused to be struck 
 in her honour ; but, for some reason, these souvenirs 
 were not accepted. The native town of the great actress 
 showed itself less indifferent than the State, and placed 
 a commemorative tablet on the house in which she had 
 been born. In 1876, however, the house collapsed 
 beneath the weight of years, and the tablet was buried 
 under its ruins. 1 
 
 The remains of Mile. Clairon were interred in the 
 cemetery of Vaugirard, where they remained until its 
 suppression in April 1837, when, escorted by a deputa- 
 tion from the Com^die-Frangaise, they were transferred 
 to Pere-Lachaise, and there re-interred, Samson pro- 
 
 1 Gueullette, Acteurs et Actrices du Temps passe, p. 321.
 
 352 QUEENS OF THE FRENCH STAGE 
 
 nouncing an eloge over the grave. In 1889, at the 
 solicitation of M. Caille, an inhabitant of Cond, the 
 socittaires of the Comdie-Fran9aise decided that the 
 tomb of the famous tragedienne should be completely 
 restored, and voted for that purpose a sum of one 
 thousand francs.
 
 INDEX 
 
 Actrice nouvelle, F, Poisson's, 151 
 Adrienne Lecouvreur, Scribe and 
 
 Legouve*'s, 129 and note, 182 
 
 note 
 
 Aiguillon, Due d', 163 
 Aiguillon, Duchesse, 319, 337 
 Alss^, Mile., 140, 180, 184 note, 186 ; 
 
 (cited) 180-183, 188-190, 192 
 
 note 
 
 Alexandre, Racine's, 26, 92 
 Allainval, Abbe" d', 129 ; (cited) 
 
 134, MS, 199 
 
 Amours de Bastien et Bastienne, 
 Justine Favart's performance in, 
 268 
 
 Amphitryon, Moliere's, 49, 155 
 
 Andromaque, Racine's, 11 note, 93 
 
 Anne of Austria, Queen of France, 
 27 
 
 Anne Ivanovna, Duchess of Cour- 
 land, 173, 174, 175 
 
 Anspach, Margrave of, his char- 
 acter and personal appearance, 
 340, 341 ; falls in love with Mile. 
 Clairon and invites her to An- 
 spach, 341 ; "the sweetest and 
 kindest of beings," 342 ; discards 
 Mile. Clairon for Lady Craven, 
 344-346 
 
 Anspach, Margravine of, 340, 341, 
 
 344, 345, 346. 
 Antiochus et Ctiopatre, Deschamps', 
 
 154 
 
 Argental, d', 164-168, 169, 193 note 
 Ariane, Mile, de Champmesle's 
 
 performance in, 99. 
 Aries, Council of, excludes the 
 
 actor from the Sacraments, 66, 
 
 67 
 
 Attila, Pierre Corneille's,26,97note 
 Aubry, Sebastian, 13 
 
 Augustus II., Elector of Saxony 
 and King of Poland, 169, 170, 
 174, 176 
 
 Aunillon, Abbe", 179. 
 
 Avare, Moliere's, 78 
 
 B 
 
 Bachaumont, (cited) 293 note, 328, 
 335 note, 337 note 
 
 Bajazet, 98, 337. 
 
 Balicourt, Mile., 228 and note 
 
 Barbier, (cited) 161, 213, 301 
 
 Barbier d'Aucour, 102 
 
 Bauffremont, Marquis de, 318 
 
 Baron, Michel, 56-58, 63, 75, 94, 
 147, 151, 152, 159 
 
 Bayle, 8, 41 
 
 Bazin, 9, 44 
 
 Beaumarchais, 325 
 
 Beaumenard, Mile., mistress of 
 Maurice de Saxe, 239, 243 note 
 
 Beffara, 9, 15, 211 note 
 
 Bejart, Armande, her marriage 
 with Moliere, 3 ; controversy 
 concerning her parentage, 7-20 ; 
 accompanies the I llustre Theatre 
 to the provinces, 20 ; her educa- 
 tion, 21 ; her personal appear- 
 ance, 22-25 ', ner gifts as an 
 actress, 25, 26 ; her debut, 27 ; 
 plays before the Court in the 
 Imprompu de Versailles, 27 ; and 
 during Les Plaisirs de file en- 
 chantee, 27-29 ; bears Moliere a 
 son, 27 ; her rendering of the 
 part of Celimene in the Misan- 
 thrope, 29-3 1 ; other performances 
 by her, 31, 32; her moral con- 
 duct considered, 32-40; charges 
 brought against her in La 
 Fameuse Comedienne, 40 - 48 ; 
 
 353
 
 354 
 
 INDEX 
 
 temporarily separated from her 
 husband, 48-54; her supposed 
 liaison with Baron, 56-58 ; her 
 platonic friendship with Pierre 
 Corneille, 58, 59 ; birth of her 
 second son, 60; endeavours to 
 dissuade Moliere from playing 
 in the Malade imaginaire, 62 ; 
 goes to find a priest to admin- 
 ister the last Sacraments to her 
 husband, 63 ; her appeal to the 
 Archbishop of Paris, 63, 64 ; her 
 interview with Louis XIV. at 
 Saint-Germain, 64 ; throws money 
 among the crowd on the day of 
 Moliere' s funeral, 71 ; causes a 
 fire to be lighted on his grave, 
 72 ; conclusion as to her moral 
 conduct, 72, 73 ; resumes her 
 place in the company three days 
 after her husband's death, 74 and 
 note ; secures the Theatre Gudne"- 
 gaud, 77, 78 ; her adventure with 
 President Lescot, 79-82 ; libelled 
 by Guichard, 82 and note ; 
 marries Gue"rin d'Estriche', 83, 
 84 ; her later years, 84, 85 
 
 Be'jart, Be'nigne Madeleine, 10, 19 
 
 Be'jart, Genevieve, 7, 15 
 
 Bejart, Joseph /m?, 3, 7, 9, 10 
 
 Be'jart, Joseph fils, 4, 10, 15, 75 
 
 Be'jart, Louis, 15 
 
 Bejart, Madeleine, her parentage, 
 34 ; becomes an actress, 4, 5 ; 
 has a daughter by the Comte de 
 Modene, 5, 6 ; commonly be- 
 lieved to be the mother of 
 Armande Be'jart, 7-10 ; and to 
 have been the mistress of Moliere, 
 1 1 ; hideous accusation of Mont- 
 fleury, 11, 12; repeated by Guich- 
 ard, Le Boulanger de Chalussay, 
 and in La Fameuse Comedienne, 
 12-15 ; joins the Illustre Theatre, 
 1 5 ; her talent as an actress and 
 personal appearance, 16 ; ques- 
 tion as to her relations with 
 Moliere considered, 17-20 ; pro- 
 motes the marriage between 
 Moliere and Armande, 21, 22 
 
 Bellerose, 76 note 
 
 Benoit (surgeon), his dispute with 
 Dubois of the Come'die-Fran- 
 caise, 328, 329 
 
 Bfrtnice, Racine's, 96, 97, 98 
 
 Berghieck, Comte de, lover of Mile. 
 Clairon, 281 
 
 Bernard, Samuel, 216 
 
 Bernhardt, Madame Sarah, 138 
 
 Berri, Duchesse de, 205 
 
 Berryer, Lieutenant of Police, 285, 
 304, 35> 3o6> 318 
 
 Besenval, Baron de, Mile. Clairon's 
 love-letters to him, 303 
 
 Bimorel, Madame de, 282, 283, 
 285 
 
 Blainville, expelled from the Come'- 
 die-Frangaise, 329 
 
 Blondi, dancing-master, 206 
 
 Blot, 42 
 
 Boileau-Despre'aux, 60, 71, 100 
 103, 108, 109, 116 ; (cited) 102 
 
 Boileau-Puimorin, 60 
 
 Bossuet, denounces the plays of 
 Moliere, 70 ; his Maximes et 
 reflexions sur la com^die, 119, 
 120 
 
 Botte de la Barondiere, P6re, in- 
 sists on Bre'court renouncing the 
 stage, 117 and note 
 
 Bouillon (Louise Franchise de Lor- 
 raine), Duchesse de, enamoured 
 of Maurice de Saxe, 179; her 
 personal appearance, 179 note ; 
 accused by the Abbe* Bouret of 
 having engaged him to poison 
 Adrienne Lecouvreur, 179-188 ; 
 suspected of having caused the 
 death of the actress, 188-190; 
 consideration of this charge, 190, 
 191 ; discarded by the Comte de 
 Clermont for Mile, de Camargo, 
 213 
 
 Bouillon (Marie -Anne Mancini), 
 Duchesse de, intrigues to ruin 
 Racine's Phedre, 103-105 
 
 Bourdaloue, Pere, preaches against 
 Tartuffe, 70; denounces the 
 theatre, 120 
 
 Bouret, Abbe", accuses the Duchesse 
 de Bouillon of having engaged 
 him to poison Adrienne Lecouv- 
 reur, 179-184; sent to Saint- 
 Lazare, 184 ; released, 184 ; re- 
 arrested, 185 ; persists in his 
 accusation, 186; but finally re- 
 cants, 187 ; set at liberty and 
 disappears, 187
 
 INDEX 
 
 355 
 
 Bourgeois gentilhomme t Moliere's, 
 23, 24, 97 note 
 
 Bouteville, Due de, 302 
 
 Bouty, Marie (mother of Mile, 
 de Champmesle), 130 
 
 Boyer, Abbe, 92, 114, 115, 153 
 
 Brecourt, compelled by the cure of 
 Saint-Sulpice to renounce his 
 profession, 1 17 and note 
 
 Breuze de la Martiniere, 8 
 
 Brie, Mile, de, joins the Illustre 
 Theatre, 17; becomes Moliere's 
 mistress, 17 ; resides in the 
 Bejart's house, 48 ; resumes her 
 intimacy with Moliere, 55, 56 ; 
 jealousy between her and Mile. 
 Moliere, 73 
 
 Brizard, 330 
 
 Brossette, (cited) 17, 100 
 
 Brotok, Comte de, ruined by Mile. 
 Clairon, 303 
 
 By, Chevalier de, lover of Mile. 
 Clairon, 286 
 
 Caffaro, Pere, his Lettre (fun 
 Th^ologien, in defence of the 
 theatrical profession, 119, 120 
 
 Cahusac, (cited) 203 
 
 Calandrini, Madame, 180 
 
 Camargo, Marie Anne de : see 
 Cupis de Camargo 
 
 Cartouche (brigand), 135 
 
 Cartouche, ou les voleurs, Le 
 Grand's, 135 
 
 Casanova, (cited) 220 
 
 Castelnau, Marquis de, 265 
 
 Castil-Blaze, (cited) 200, 208 
 
 Champmesle', Charles de : see Chev- 
 illet de Champmesle' 
 
 Champmesle, Marie de : see Cbev- 
 illet de Champmesld 
 
 Chantilly, Mile.: see Favart, Jus- 
 tine 
 
 Chapelle, 42, 49-52, 53, 54, 71, 9 
 
 Chappuzeau, Samuel, (cited) 76 
 note, 77 
 
 Chardon, M. Henri, (cited) 4, 18, 
 
 19 
 Chateauroux, Duchesse de, 215, 
 
 289 
 Chevillet de Champmesle', Charles, 
 
 runs away from home to become 
 an actor, 90, 91 ; marries Marie 
 Desmares, 91 ; joins the Theatre 
 du Marais, 91 ; leaves it for the 
 Hotel de Bourgogne, 93 ; a com- 
 placent husband, 93 ; on the best 
 of terms with his wife's admirers, 
 1 08 ; joins the Theatre Gue'ne'- 
 gaud, 113; his Parisien, 113; 
 singular incident connected with 
 his death, 125, 126 
 Chevillet de Champmesle', Marie, 
 birth and parentage, 89 ; becomes 
 an actress and makes her debut at 
 Rouen, 90; marries Charles de 
 Champmesle', 91 ; comes to Paris 
 with her husband, 91 ; joins the 
 Theatre du Marais, 91 ; her first 
 successes, 92 ; leaves the Marais 
 for the Hotel de Bourgogne, 93 ; 
 her triumph as Hermione in 
 Andromaque, 93 ; her gifts as an 
 actress, 94, 95 ; her personal 
 appearance, 95, 96 ; becomes the 
 mistress of Racine, 96 ; her 
 successes in Berenice, 97 ; in 
 Sajazef, 98 ; in Ariane, 99 ; in 
 Mithridate, 99 ; in Iphige"nie en 
 Aulide, 100-102 ; in Phedre, 
 106 ; her house " the rendezvous 
 of all persons of distinction in 
 both Court and town, 1 ' 107 ; un- 
 faithful to Racine, 107, 108 ; her 
 relations with Charles de SeVigne", 
 1 08- 1 10 ; liaison with the Comte 
 de Clermont-Tonnerre, 1 1 1 ; dis- 
 carded by Racine, in ; her 
 impersonation of Queen Eliza- 
 beth in the Comte d* Essex, 113 ; 
 joins the Theatre Gue'ne'gaud, 
 113; one of the original socie'taires 
 of the Come'die-Frangaise, 113 ; 
 secures her brother Nicolas's 
 admission sans dtbut, 114 ; later 
 performances by her, 114-116; 
 falls ill and retires from stage, 
 1 16 ; with difficulty induced to re- 
 nounce her profession, 122 ; dies, 
 122 ; two letters of Racine on 
 her death, 122, 123 ; her pupils, 
 Miles. Duclos and Charlotte 
 Desmares, 123-125 
 
 Chevreuse, Duchesse de, 246, 247 
 
 Choiseul, Due de, 327
 
 356 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Christian VII., King of Denmark, 
 337 
 
 Cindre', Marquis de, lover of Mile. 
 Clairon, 306 
 
 Circe 1 , Thomas Corneille's, 78 
 
 Clairon, Mile., her parentage, 276 ; 
 her birth, 276, 277 ; comes with 
 her mother to Paris, 277 ; her 
 account of how she was led to 
 become an actress, 278-281 ; 
 makes her dtbut at the Comedie- 
 Italienne, 281 ; accepts an en- 
 gagement at Rouen, 281 ; her 
 life there, 282, 283; adventure with 
 Gaillard de la Bataille, 283, 284 ; 
 Histoire de Mademoiselle Cronel, 
 dite Fre'lillon, 284, 285 ; her 
 mother tries to coerce her into 
 marriage, 285 ; " three rival war- 
 riors contending for her heart," 
 286 ; rejects the proposals of" my 
 lord" Marlborough, 287 ; returns 
 to Paris and joins the Opera, 287 ; 
 leaves the Opera for the Comedie- 
 Frangaise, 288 ; her admission 
 opposed by certain members of 
 the troupe, 289 ; insists on making 
 her debut in the part of Phedre, 
 
 289, 290 ; her brilliant success, 
 
 290, 291 ; her personal appear- 
 ance, 291 ; her remarkable gifts 
 as an actress, 293 ; testimony of 
 Favart, 294 ; of Colld, 294, 295 ; 
 of Herault de Se*chelles, 295 ; of 
 Oliver Goldsmith, 295, 296 ; of 
 Sturtz, 296-299 ; of Garrick, 299, 
 300 ; performances by her, 300, 
 301 ; her brilliant success as 
 Ame'naide in Tancrede, 301 ; her 
 lovers, 301-307 ; her liaison with 
 Marmontel, 307-309; changes her 
 style of acting, 309-313; brings 
 about a reform in stage costume, 
 313-314; an indefatigable student 
 of everything connected with her 
 art, 314-316; continuing her 
 career of gallantry, 317-318 ; con- 
 ceives a genuine passion for the 
 Comte de Valbelle, 318, 319; 
 her social success, 319 and note; 
 her portrait painted by Carle van 
 Loo, 319 and note, 320; declines 
 an offer to take up her residence 
 at Gt. Petersburg, 320, 32 1 ; Gar- 
 
 rick commissions an engraving 
 of her "in all the attributes of 
 Tragedy," 321 ; gold medal 
 struck in her honour, 322 ; her 
 pride and arrogance, 322, 323 ; 
 has the interests of her profession 
 sincerely at heart, 323, 324 ; en- 
 deavours to relieve the stage from 
 the ban of the Church, 324 ; 
 attacked by Frdron, in the Anne'e 
 litttraire, 324-328 ; f affaire 
 Dubois, 328-331 ; sent to For 
 Pliveque, 331, 332 ; her letter to 
 Garrick, 332, 333 ; visits Voltaire 
 at Ferney, 334, 335 ; enthusias- 
 tically acclaimed by the pit at 
 Marseilles, 335 ; retires from the 
 Comedie-Frangaise, 335, 336 ; 
 her life after her retirement, 336, 
 337 ; plays before the King of 
 Denmark, 337, 338 ; and at Ver- 
 sailles, 338 ; her correspondence 
 with her pupil Larive, 339, 340 ; 
 accompanies the Margrave of 
 Anspach to Germany, 341 ; her 
 life at Anspach, 341-344 ; sup- 
 planted by Lady Craven in the 
 affections of the Margrave, 344- 
 346 ; takes up her residence at 
 Issy, 346, 347 ; publication of her 
 MemoireS) 347 ; her last years 
 and death, 349-351 ; removal of 
 her remains from Vaugirard to 
 Pere Lachaise in 1837, 351, 352 
 
 Clavel, Adrienne Lecouvreur's 
 letters to him, 142-145 
 
 Clement XL, Pope, declines to 
 interfere between the Church 
 and the theatrical profession, 
 121 note 
 
 Clermont, Comte de, his character, 
 212 ; becomes the lover of Mile. 
 de Camargo, 213 ; can refuse 
 her nothing, 214 ; insists on her 
 quitting the stage, 214 ; ap- 
 pointed abbot of Saint-Germain- 
 des-Pres, 215; installs Mile, de 
 Camargo at the Chateau de 
 Berny, 215 ; discards her for 
 Mile. Le Due, 216 ; presents his 
 new enchantress with a mag- 
 nificent equipage, 217, 218; 
 makes Mile, de Camargo an 
 allowance, 220
 
 INDEX 
 
 357 
 
 Clermont-Tonnerre, Comte de, one 
 of the admirers of Mile, de 
 Champmesle, 107, 108, in 
 
 Cochin, Charles Nicolas fits, his 
 drawing of Justine Favart,228 note 
 
 Colbert, 17 note, 77 
 
 Colle, (cited) 152, 153, 216 and 
 note, 252 note, 294, 295, 301, 
 314, 322 note 
 
 Comedie-Frangaise, its foundation, 
 
 "3 
 Comte d* Essex, Thomas Corneille s, 
 
 153. 156 
 
 Conti, Prince de, 69 
 Coraline, Mile., shocked at the 
 
 conduct of Justine Favart, 256 
 Corneille, Pierre, 17, 26, 32 note, 
 
 5 8 , 59 96,97 and note, 114, 131, 
 
 132, 266, 294 
 
 Corneille, Thomas, 78, 92, 112 
 Coulanges, Madame de, (cited) 
 
 99 
 
 Couvreur, Robert, father of Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur, 130, 131 
 
 Couvrigny, Pere de (chaplain to the 
 Bastille), his letter to the Lieu- 
 tenant of Police, 1 86 
 
 Coypel, Charles, his portrait of 
 Adrienne Lecouveur, 142-145 
 
 Crebillon pere, 124, 145, 227, 294, 
 300, 321 and note 
 
 Crebillon yf/j, 321 note 
 
 Critique de fEcole des femmes, 
 Moliere's, 27 
 
 Cupis de Camargo, Ferdinand 
 Joseph de (father of Mile, de 
 Camargo), descended from " one 
 of the noblest families in Rome," 
 199; gives his daughter lessons 
 in dancing, 200 ; accompanies 
 her to Rouen, 201 ; and to Paris, 
 202 ; exercises unsleeping vigi- 
 lance over her, 208 ; his letter 
 to Cardinal de Fleury after her 
 elopement with the Comte de 
 Melun, 209-211 
 
 Cupis de Camargo, Marie Anne 
 de, birth and parentage, 199, 
 200 ; her precocious talent, 200 ; 
 sent to Paris to take lessons 
 from Mile. Prevost, 200 ; premiere 
 danseuse at Brussels theatre, 201 ; 
 goes to Rouen, 201 ; engaged at 
 the Paris Opera, 201, 202 ; her 
 
 triumphal debut, 202 and note ; 
 her personal appearance, 202, 
 203; "abbreviates her skirts," 
 203, 204 ; triumphs over the 
 intrigues of Mile. Prevost and 
 becomes queen of the Opera, 
 204 - 206 ; revolutionises the 
 ballet, 206, 207 ; patronised by 
 the Duchesse de Villars, 207; 
 carried off by the Comte de 
 Melun, 208-211 ; conceives " une 
 belle passion'" for the Marquis 
 de Sourdis, 211, 212; becomes 
 the mistress of the Comte de 
 Clermont, 212-214; temporarily 
 retires from the Opera, 214; 
 does the honours of the Chateau 
 de Berny, 215 ; discarded by the 
 count for Mile. Le Due, 216 ; 
 becomes the mistress of the 
 President de Rieux, 216, 217; 
 receives a magnificent present, 
 217 ; breaks with the president 
 and resumes her liaison with the 
 Marquis de Sourdis, 218; re- 
 turns to the Opera, 219; rivalry 
 between her and Mile. Salle, 
 219 ; verses addressed to them 
 by Voltaire, 219; makes her 
 debut as a singer, 220 ; definitely 
 retires from the Opera, 220 ; her 
 later years and death, 220, 
 221 
 
 Cupis de Camargo, Sophie de, 208, 
 209-211 
 
 D 
 
 D , Baron, lover of Adrienne 
 
 Lecouvreur, 141 
 Dancourt, 135 
 Dangeville, Mile., inspires Mile. 
 
 Clairon with a desire to become 
 
 an actress, 278-280 ; finds it 
 
 " impossible to live " with Mile. 
 
 Clairon, 323 
 
 Des Boulmiers, (cited) 171 
 Desheys introduces Mile. Clairon 
 
 to the Come"die-Italienne, 281 
 Deshoulieres, Madame, intrigues 
 
 against Racine, 
 Desmares, Charlotte, 114, 124, 125, 
 
 126 
 Desmares, Guillaume, father of 
 
 Marie de Champmesle', 89
 
 3J8 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Desmares, Marie : see Chevillet 
 de Champmesle', Marie 
 
 Desmares, Nicolas, brother of 
 Marie de Champmesle, 89, 114, 
 126 
 
 Desmarets de Saint-Sorlin, 69 
 
 Desnoiresterres, Gustave, (cited) 
 229 note, 239, 240 note, 242 
 
 Des CEillets, Mile., 93, 94, 98 
 
 Devineresse, La, 78 
 
 Diderot, 347 
 
 Don Garde de Navarre, Moliere's, 
 301 
 
 Don Juan, Moliere's, 65, 78, 79 
 
 Donneau de Vise, 8, 27, 78, 79, 99 
 
 Dubois, Abbe, (cited) 106 
 
 Dubois (actor of the Come"die- 
 Francaise), his dispute with the 
 surgeon Benoit, 328 ; expelled 
 from the Com^die, 329 ; tem- 
 porarily reinstated, 329; Mile. 
 Clairon and four of her colleagues 
 decline to act with him, 330 ; 
 his partisans create a riot in the 
 theatre, 330, 331 ; resigns his 
 place, 334 
 
 Dubois, Mile., 329, 330, 331 
 
 Duclos, Mile., 123, 124, 125, 126 
 
 Du Deffand, Marquise, 319 
 
 Du Cue", Madame, invites Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur to perform at her 
 hotel, 131-133 
 
 Du Maine, Duchesse, 158 
 
 Du Marsais, Cesar, his "on, cela !" 
 148 ; gives Adrienne Lecouvreur 
 lessons in elocution, 149 
 
 Dumas d'Aigueberre, (cited) 152, 
 
 153 
 
 Dumesnil, Marie Frangoise, a 
 worthy successor to Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur, 275 ; her triumph 
 in Merope, 276 ; compared with 
 Mile. Clairon, 292, 293 ; pre- 
 ferred by Louis XV. to the 
 latter, 338 
 
 Dumolard, (cited) 242 
 
 Du Pare, Mile., rejects the advances 
 of Moliere, 17 ; and of Pierre 
 Corneille, 58 ; confidante of Ar- 
 mande Bejart, 45; Racine "ex- 
 periences with her a sentiment 
 which has the dignity of love," 
 107 
 
 Duras, Due de, 327, 335, 336 
 
 Duronceray, Justine : see Favart, 
 
 Justine 
 Duronceray, M. (father of Justine 
 
 Favart), 228 ; a tool in the hands 
 
 of Maurice de Saxe, 254-256, 
 
 258, 259, 261 
 Duronceray, Madame (mother of 
 
 Justine Favart), 228 
 Du Rouvray, M., 283 
 
 Ecole desfemmes, Moliere's, 14, 33, 
 
 ,34 
 
 Ecole des marts, Moliere's, 33 
 Edwards, Mr. Sutherland, 43 note 
 El Desden con el Desden, Moreto's, 
 ,28 
 
 Electre, Cre*billon's, 145, 312 
 Electre, Longpierre's, 33 
 Electre, Voltaire's, 322 
 Elizabeth Petrovna, Czarina of 
 
 Russia, wooed by Maurice de 
 
 Saxe, 173-175 ; invites Mile. 
 
 Clairon to St. Petersburg, 
 
 320 
 Elontire hypocondre, Le Boulanger 
 
 de Chalussay's, 13, 14 
 Elzevirs, the, print an edition of 
 
 Elomire hypocondre, 14 
 Epinay, Madame d', 315 
 Eugene of Savoy, 135, 169 
 
 Fameuse Comedienne, La, libel on 
 Armande Bejart, 15, 21, 22, 25, 
 40-54. 56, 72, 73, 82, 84 
 
 Fausse Prude, La, 121 note 
 
 Favart, Charles Nicolas Joseph, 
 272 
 
 Favart, Charles Paul, 225 and 
 note 
 
 Favart, Charles Simon, his early 
 life, 225, 226 ; produces La 
 Chercheuse rfesprit, 227 ; director 
 of the Ope'ra-Comique, 227 ; 
 engages Justine Duronceray, 
 228 ; marries her, 229 ; invited 
 by Maurice de Saxe to accom- 
 pany him to Flanders, 231 ; cele- 
 brates the Marshal's entry into
 
 INDEX 
 
 359 
 
 Brussels, 233 ; his adventures in 
 Flanders, 234, 235 ; announces 
 in verse Maurice's intention to 
 give battle, 237, 238 ; his account 
 of the battle of Lawfeld, 244, 245 ; 
 learns of his wife's misconduct 
 with the Marshal, 245 ; takes her 
 to Brussels, 246 ; his letter to 
 her, 247 ; prosecuted by the pro- 
 prietors of the Brussels theatre, 
 at the instigation of the Marshal, 
 249 ; returns to Paris and per- 
 suades Justine to leave Maurice, 
 251; flies to Strasburg, 251; 
 Justine's letter to him, 253, 254 ; 
 refuses money offered him by the 
 Marshal, 259 ; reduced to terrible 
 straits, 265 ; returns to Paris, 
 265 ; his verses upon the death of 
 Maurice de Saxe, 266 ; regards 
 love as " the greatest of all evils," 
 267 ; tolerates his wife's liaison 
 with the Abbe de Voisenon, 267 ; 
 his later works, 267-272 ; his 
 admiration for Mile. Clairon's 
 acting, 294 
 
 Favart, Justine, her parentage, 228 ; 
 engaged at the Opera- Comique, 
 228 ; makes her ctebut, 229 ; her 
 marriage with Favart, 229 and 
 note, 230 ; her success in Les 
 Vendanges de Tempt , 230 ; ac- 
 companies her husband to 
 Flanders, 232 ; the object of a 
 violent passion on the part of 
 Maurice de Saxe, 239, 240 ; 
 " possessed by the demon of con- 
 jugal love," 240 ; Maurice's letter 
 to her, 240, 241 ; yields to the 
 importunities of the Marshal, 242, 
 243 and note ; refuses to continue 
 the liaison, 244 ; confesses her 
 misconduct to her husband, 245, 
 246; flies to Brussels,246; Favart's 
 letter to her, 247 ; continues her 
 flight to Paris, 248 ; persuaded 
 to resume her intimacy with the 
 Marshal, 249, 250 ; again leaves 
 him and declares that " her salva- 
 tion is dearer to her than all the 
 fortunes in the world," 250; her 
 successful debut at the Comedie- 
 Italienne, 252 ; her letter to her 
 husband in hiding at Strasburg, 
 
 253; her father a tool in the 
 hands of Maurice de Saxe, 254- 
 255 ; lettre de cachet issued 
 against her, 255 ; leaves Paris to 
 join her husband, 256; arrested, 
 at the instigation of Maurice, 
 and taken to Les Grands-An- 
 delys, 257 ; her correspondence 
 with her husband and Maurice 
 de Saxe, 257-259 ; removed to a 
 convent at Angers, 259; further 
 correspondence with the Marshal, 
 259-262 ; exhorted by Mile. 
 Fleury to " become reasonable," 
 263 ; and by her sister-in-law, 
 Marguerite Favart, to remain 
 inflexible, 264, 265 ; terrified into 
 submission to the Marshal, and 
 is released, 265 ; returns to Paris, 
 265 ; her relations with the Abb 
 de Voisenon, 267 ; reappears at 
 the Comedie-Italienne, 267 ; her 
 extraordinary versatility, 268 ; 
 strenuous for a reform in stage 
 costume, 268 ; performances by 
 her, 268-270 ; retires from the 
 stage, 270 ; her last illness and 
 death, 271 
 
 Femtnes savantes, Moliere's, 32 
 
 Fenelon, denounces the theatre, 120 
 
 Ferriol, Madame de, Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur's letter to, 165-167, 
 169 
 
 Fete de V^nus, Marie de Champ- 
 mesle's appearance in, 92 
 
 Fils ingrats, Piron's, 155 
 
 Flechier, denounces the theatre, 120 
 
 Flemming, Count, intrigues against 
 Maurice de Saxe, 170, 176 
 
 Florentin, Le, Adrienne Le- 
 couvreur's performances in, 155, 
 189 
 
 Floridor, 1 1 ; refused ecclesiastical 
 burial, 70 
 
 Florimont, 55 
 
 Folleville, President de, his affray 
 with the Marquis de Cony, 
 282 
 
 Fonpre, Mile., engages Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur to play at Lille, 136 
 
 Fontaine, his portrait of Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur, 137-139 
 
 Forcalquier, Madame de, 319 
 
 Fouche, Paul, (cited) 89
 
 3 6 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Fournier, Edouard, 9 
 
 Freron, his attack upon Mile. 
 
 Clairon, 324-328 
 Fronsac, Due de, lover of Mile. 
 
 Dubois, 329 ; interferes on behalf 
 
 of her father, 329 
 
 Gaboriau, Emile, (cited) 37, 43 note, 
 203, 206, 215 
 
 Gaillard de la Bataille, his adven- 
 ture with Mile. Clairon, 283, 284; 
 his libel upon her, 284, 285 
 
 Galitzin, Princess, 319, 320 
 
 Garrick, Sturtz's letter to him, 296- 
 299; his opinion of Mile. Clairon's 
 acting, 299 ; commissions Grave- 
 lot to engrave a design in honour 
 of Mile. Clairon, 321 ; her letter 
 to him, 333 ; offers her a loan, 
 334 note 
 
 Gaultier-Garguille, 4 and note 
 
 Gaussin, Jeanne, 275, 292, 306 note 
 
 Gautier, Mile., 281, 285 
 
 Geoffrey (chemist), his report on 
 the suspicious lozenges given to 
 the Abbe" Bouret, 1 84 note 
 
 George Dandin, Moliere's, 33, 35- 
 
 37, 145 
 
 Gesvres, Due de, 158, 289 
 Gesvres, Duchesse de, 158 
 Goldsmith, Oliver, (cited) 295, 296 
 Goncourt, Edmond de, 298 note, 31 8 
 Gozlan, M. Le"on, (cited) 236, 240 
 Grandval, 180 note, 195, 280 
 Grimarest, (cited) 21, 43 note, 36, 
 
 53, 62 note 
 
 Grimm, (cited) 203, 204, 247, 315 
 Gros-Guillaume, 4 and note 
 Guenegaud, Theatre, 76 and note, 
 
 77, 78, 79 
 
 Gue*rin d'Estnche, marries the 
 widow of Moliere, 83-85 
 
 Gueullette, M., (cited) 1 1 1 
 
 Guichard, attempts to poison Lulli, 
 12, 13; repeats the accusation of 
 Montfleury against Moliere, 13; 
 accuses Mile. Moliere of immor- 
 ality, 82 and note 
 
 Guiche, Comte de, his supposed 
 relations with Mile. Moliere, 45 
 and note, 46, 47, 5 1 , 57 
 
 Guise, Due de, 100 
 
 H 
 
 Hardouin de Pere"fixe, Archbishop 
 
 of Paris, issues an order against 
 
 Tartuffe, 70 
 Harlay de Chanvalon, Archbishop 
 
 of Paris, his conduct in regard to 
 
 the funeral of Moliere, 63, 64, 65, 
 
 68 
 
 Hawkins, Mr. Frederick, (cited) 292 
 Henley, Mr. W. E., (cited) 37 
 Henrietta of England, Duchesse 
 
 d'Orleans, 12, 27, 96, 97 
 Herault (Lieutenant of Police), his 
 
 conduct in F affaire Bouret, 181, 
 
 182, 184 note, 187 
 Hermite, Jean Baptiste de 1', 19 
 Hermite, Tristan de 1', 19 
 Henre", Marie (mother of the 
 
 Bejarts), i, 7-10, 20 
 Histoire de Mademoiselle Cronel, 
 
 dite Frttillon, libel on Mile. 
 
 Clairon, 284, 285 
 Holstein, Princess of, 240 note, 
 
 242 
 
 Hotel de Bourgogne, its amalgama- 
 tion with the Theatre Gue"ne- 
 
 gaud, 84 
 Hugues de Giversac, d', admirer of 
 
 Mile. Clairon, 304 
 
 I 
 
 Impromptu de Fhotel de Conttt, f, 
 
 ii 
 Impromptu de Versailles, Moliere's, 
 
 11,27, 33, 34,35 
 Innocent XII., Pope, 121 note 
 Iphigtnie en Aulide, Racine's, 100- 
 
 102, 116 
 
 J 
 
 Jal, Auguste, (cited) 8 note 
 Journal de Police, (cited) 217, 218 
 Judith, Beyer's, 114-116 
 
 K 
 
 Kemble, John, 351 
 Klinglin, Comte Francois de, his 
 
 liaison with Adrienne Lecouv- 
 
 reur, 144, 1 45 
 Konigsmack, Aurora von (mother 
 
 of Maurice de Saxe), 169, 170, 
 
 174
 
 INDEX 
 
 La Chalotais, Marquis de, 158, 163, 
 164, 1 68 
 
 La Fare, Marquis de, 107 
 
 La Fayette, Madame de, 103 
 
 La Fontaine, 16, 17 and note, 96, 
 107 ; (cited) 95, 106 
 
 La Grange, Charles : see Varlet de 
 la Grange 
 
 La Grange-Chancel, 116 
 
 La Guerault, Antoine, 89 
 
 La Harpe, 324, 325 
 
 La Janiere, his reports to the 
 Lieutenant of Police on Mile. 
 Clairon, 285, 286, 287, 301, 303 
 
 Lambert, Marquise de, 158, 160 
 
 La Morliere, 313 note 
 
 La Motte, Mile., 251, 252 
 
 Lancret, his portraits of Mile, de 
 Camargo, 221 
 
 Lang, Mr. Andrew, (cited) 10 
 
 Languet de Gergy (cure of Saint- 
 Sulpice), his conduct in regard 
 to the burial of Adrienne Lecouv- 
 reur, 192, 194 
 
 La Noue, 281, 285, 286, 289 
 
 La Paute, 101 note 
 
 La Popeliniere, 287, 302 
 
 Laporte, Abb de, (cited) 93, 94 
 
 Larive, 339, 340, 342, 343, 347 
 
 Laroque, 93 
 
 Larroumet, M. Gustave, 129 ; (cited) 
 4, 15, 1 8, 19, 22, 29, 43, 44, 48, 
 49, 54, 62 note, 81, in, 122, 123, 
 136, 138, 143, 157, 190 
 
 La Thorilliere, 97 
 
 Lauraguais, Due de, 289 
 
 Lauzun, Comte (afterwards Due) 
 de, his supposed liaison with 
 Mile. Moliere, 45-47 
 
 Lawfeld, Battle of, 244, 245 
 
 Le Boulanger de Chalussay, his 
 Elomire hypocondre, 13, 14 
 
 Le Brun, Pere, denounces the 
 theatre, 120 note 
 
 Lecouvreur, Adrienne, her attrac- 
 tion for French writers, 129 ; her 
 birth and parentage, 130 ; comes 
 to Paris, 130 ; takes part in a 
 performance, by children, at the 
 hotel of Madame du Gue, 131- 
 133 ; and at the Temple, 133, 
 134; receives lessons from the 
 
 actor Le Grand, 135, 136 ; ac- 
 cepts an engagement at Lille, 
 136; her career as a provincial 
 actress, 136, 137 ; her portrait 
 by Charles Coypel and Fontaine, 
 137-139 ; her beauty attested by 
 her contemporaries, 139, 140 ; 
 possesses a very susceptible 
 nature, 140, 141 ; her early love 
 affairs, 141, 142 ; her letters to 
 the actor Clavel, 142-144 ; her 
 liaison with the Comte de Klin- 
 glin, 144, 145; her children, 
 145 ; her brilliant debut at the 
 Comedie-Frangaise, 145 ; her 
 natural style of elocution the 
 principal cause of her success, 
 146-148 ; her debt to Cesar du 
 Marsais, 148, 149 ; bitterly op- 
 posed by the champions of the 
 old school of declamation, 149- 
 151 ; her triumph assured by the 
 support of Baron, 151, 152 ; her 
 wonderful by-play, 152 ; contem- 
 porary criticisms of her acting, 
 I 5 2 > r 53> her faults as an 
 actress, 153 ; her principal roles 
 in tragedy, 152, 153 ; quarrel 
 between Voltaire and the Cheva- 
 lier de Rohan in her dressing- 
 room, 154, 155 ; does not excel 
 in comedy, 155 ; her costumes, 
 I 55~ I 575 her unique social 
 position, 157-159 ; complains of 
 the burden of her social duties, 
 159, 160 ; her favourite occupa- 
 tions, 1 60, 161 ; her reputed 
 lovers, 161 ; her relations with 
 Voltaire, 161, 162 ; resolved to 
 abjure la vie passionnelle, 162, 
 163 ; rejects the advances of La 
 Chalotais, 163, 164 ; the object 
 of a violent passion on the part 
 of d'Argental, 164, 165 ; her 
 letter to his mother, Madame de 
 Ferriol, 165-168 ; becomes the 
 mistress of Maurice de Saxe, 
 171 ; secret of her devotion to 
 him, 172 ; disposes of her jewels 
 to assist him in his candidature 
 for the throne of Courland, 175 ; 
 unjustly accused by him of 
 infidelity, 177 ; charge against 
 the Duchesse de Bouillon of
 
 362 
 
 INDEX 
 
 having attempted to poison her, 
 179-188 ; her last appearance on 
 the stage, 188-190 ; her death, 
 190 ; the question of poison con- 
 sidered, 190, 191 ; the scandal of 
 her burial, 191-195 ; her tloge 
 written by Voltaire, 195, 196 
 
 Le Due, Mile., supplants Mile. 
 de Camargo in the affections 
 of the Comte de Clermont, 216- 
 218 
 
 Ledoux, plays a trick upon Pre"si- 
 dent Lescot, 80-82 
 
 Le Grand, 134, 135 and note, 193 
 note 
 
 Le Kain, 156, 292, 313 and note, 
 330, 336 note 
 
 Lemaure, Mile., 199 
 
 Lemontey, 129; (cited) 162, 172, 173 
 
 Lenclos, Ninon de, 108-111 
 
 Le Roy, Philippe, lover of Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur, 141, 142 
 
 Lerys, Francois Joseph, father of 
 Mile. Clairon, 376 
 
 Le Sage, (cited) 1 15 
 
 Lescot, President, his adventure 
 with Mile. Moliere, 78-82 
 
 Loiseleur, M. Jules, 57; (cited) 9, 
 10, 15 
 
 Loret, 1 6 
 
 Loo, Jean Baptiste van, 137 
 
 Loo, Carle van, 300 ; his portrait 
 of Mile. Clairon, 319 note, 350 
 
 Louis XIII., 6, 19 
 
 Louis XIV., 12, 27, 64, 84, 114, 206 
 
 Louis XV., 338 
 
 Louis XVI., 325 note 
 
 Lowendal, Marechal, 231, 247, 265 
 
 Lulli, 12, 13, 75, 82 
 
 Luxembourg, Due de, 302 
 
 M 
 
 Machabtes, Le Motte's, 123 
 Maintenon, Madame de, 121 note 
 Malade imaginaire, Moliere's, 32, 
 
 61-63, 7i 
 
 Manage fore/, Moliere's, 29, 33, 35 
 Mariamne, Voltaire's, 154 
 Marie Leczinska, Queen of France, 
 
 154,326 
 
 Mariette (aanseuse), 204 
 Marlborough, Charles Spencer, 
 
 Duke of, his propositions re- 
 
 jected by Mile. Clairon, 287 and 
 
 note 
 
 Markheim, Mr. Gegg, (cited) 53, 54 
 Marmontel, 269 ; his relations with 
 
 Mile. Clairon, 307-313 ; assists 
 
 in her apotheosis of Voltaire, 335 ; 
 
 (cited) 243 note, 293 note, 336 
 Mars, Mile., 30 
 Massillon, denounces the theatre, 
 
 1 20 
 
 Maugras, M. Gaston, (cited) 120 
 Maurepas, Comte de, 192 
 Maximes et reflexions sur la 
 
 comtdie, Bossuet's, 119 
 Mazarin, Cardinal, 68 
 Me'decin malgre lui, Moliere's, 29, 
 
 49 
 
 M^de'e, Longpierre's, 116, 300 
 Meister, Henri, 347 
 Mdicerte, Moliere's, 49, 56, 85 
 Melun, Comte de, carries off Mile. 
 
 de Camargo, 208-2 r i 
 Mercure de France, (cited) 24, 148, 
 
 152, 153, 155,288, 301 
 Mercure galant, (cited) 25 
 Merlin, Pere (cure of Saint Sul- 
 pice), refuses ecclesiastical burial 
 to Moliere, 63, 68 
 Meusnier (police-inspector), 229, 
 255-256, 257; (cited) 214, 242, 
 253, 254, 265 
 
 Michelet, 139 ; (cited) 137, 138 
 Mignard, Pierre (painter), 53, 60 
 Misanthrope, Moliere's, 29, 31, 33, 
 
 37-39,53,54,55,78 
 Mithrtdate, Racine's, 99, 100 
 Modene, Comte de, 5, 6, 7, 9, 
 
 18 
 
 Modene, Comtesse de, 5 and note, 9 
 Mold, 292, 330, 337 and note 
 Moliere, his marriage with Ar- 
 mande Bejart, 3 ; abominable 
 charge brought against him by 
 Montfleury pere, n, 12; the 
 accusation repeated by Guichard 
 in Elomire hypocondre and in 
 La Fameuse Comedienne, 12- 
 15 ; question of his relations with 
 Madeleine Be"jart considered, 1 5- 
 20 ; becomes the lover of Mile, 
 de Brie, 17; allusions to his re- 
 lations with his wife in his plays, 
 33-40 ; his jealousy, 40; separated 
 from his wife, 48 ; supposed con-
 
 INDEX 
 
 363 
 
 versation with Chapelle at Au- 
 teuil, 49-55 ; resumes his liaison 
 with Mile, de Brie, 55 ; but still 
 adores his wife, 55; reconciled 
 to her, 55, 56 ; goes to reside in 
 the Rue de Richelieu, 60 ; his 
 health failing, 60, 61 ; insists on 
 playing in Malade imaginaire, 
 62 ; his death, 62, 63 ; refused 
 ecclesiastical burial, 63; com- 
 promise made, 64 ; effect of his 
 Tartuffe upon the attitude of 
 the Church to the theatre, 69, 
 70 ; his funeral, 70-72 ; not en- 
 tirely blameless for his domestic 
 unhappiness, 73, 74 ; his genius 
 not fully appreciated by his 
 contemporaries, 83 
 
 Moliere, Madeleine, 85 
 
 Moliere, Mile. : see Bejart, Ar- 
 mande 
 
 Monaco, Princesse de, 100 
 
 Montalant, M. de, marries Made- 
 leine Moliere, 85 
 
 Montausier, Due de, 38 
 
 Montespan, Madame de, 105, 106, 
 212 
 
 Montfleury, fere, his abominable 
 charge against Moliere, n, 12, 
 13, 15, 18, 19,40 
 
 Montfleury, fils, 11,40 
 
 Monval, M. Georges, 130, 132, 163 ; 
 (cited) 139, 193 and note 
 
 Mort de Pontpee, La, 1 56 
 
 Mounet-Sully, M., 138 
 
 Myesses, the Demoiselles, prose- 
 cute Favart, 249, 251 
 
 N 
 
 Nantes, Mile, de, 212 
 
 Navarre, Mile, (mistress of Maurice 
 
 de Saxe), 243 note, 307, 308 
 Necker, Madame, (cited) 270 
 Nicole, Pere, denounces the theatre, 
 
 69 
 Noury, M., (cited) 90, 113 
 
 O 
 
 CEdipe, Voltaire's, 189 
 Oligny, Mile, d', 325 and note, 326 
 Orleans, Gaston, Due d', 6 
 Orleans, Duchesse d' (Princess 
 Palatine), 125, 213 
 
 Orleans, Regent d', 125, 213 
 Orphelin de la Chine, Voltaire's, 
 294,.295> 3o, 314 
 
 Paleologue, M. Maurice, (cited) 1 39, 
 
 140, 171, 172 
 Parabere, Comtesse de, 189 and 
 
 note 
 Parfaict, Brothers, 72 ; (cited) 25, 
 
 95, in 
 Parisien, Charles de Champmesle's, 
 
 84,85, 113 
 
 Parmentier, 231, 235, 239 
 Peterborough, Earl of, 161 
 Peter the Great, Czar of Russia, 
 
 145 
 
 Phedre, Pradon's, 103-105 
 Phedre et Hippolyte, Racine's, 102- 
 
 106, 112,290,291, 351 
 Piron, 158 
 
 Poisson, Mile., (cited) 24, 25 
 Poisson, Philippe, satirises Adrienne 
 
 Lecouvreur in FActresse nouvelle, 
 
 IS' 
 
 Polyeucte,Y\e.Tte. Corneille's,i35,i36 
 
 Pompadour, Madame de, 214, 322 
 
 Pont-de-Veyle, Marquis de, 1 58 
 
 Pre"ault (sculptor), 138 
 
 Preville, 292 
 
 Prevost, Mile, (danseuse), gives 
 lessons to Mile, de Camargo, 
 200 ; intrigues against her, 202, 
 204 ; supplanted by her in the 
 affections of the public, 204-206 
 
 Princesse d 1 Elide, Moliere's, 28, 29, 
 45,46 
 
 Prungent(intendant of the Duchess 
 of Brunswick), 161 
 
 Psyche, 32 and note, 56, 57, 59, 60 
 
 Quinault, Jean Baptiste, 135 
 Quinaults, the, 150 and note 
 Quinault-Dufresne, 180 note 
 
 Rachel, Mile., 30, 129, 156 
 
 Racine, Jean, enraptured at Marie 
 de Champmesle's rendering of 
 Hermione, 94 ; gives her lessons
 
 364 
 
 INDEX 
 
 in elocution, 94, 95 ; makes her 
 his mistress, 95 ; his dramatic 
 duel with Pierre Corneille, 96- 
 98 ; his Bajazet, 98 ; his Mithri- 
 date, 99 ; his Iphigtnieen Aulide, 
 IOO-IO2 ; writes his /'htdre, 102, 
 103 ; the Duchesse de Bouillon 
 and Madame Deshoulieres per- 
 suade Pradon to enter the lists 
 against him, 103 ; production of 
 the two Pttidres, 104 ; discredit- 
 able tactics of Madame de 
 Bouillon to ruin his play, 104, 
 105 ; he eventually triumphs, 
 105 ; character of his intimacy 
 with Marie de Champmesle, 107, 
 108 ; breaks off the connection, 
 in ; probable reasons for his 
 withdrawal from dramatic author- 
 ship, in, 112 and note; his 
 letter to his son, Louis Racine, 
 on Mile, de Champmesle's death, 
 122, 123 
 
 Racine, Louis, 112 note, 122, 123; 
 (cited) 94, 96 
 
 Regnier, 129; (cited) 138, 148, 150 
 
 Revel, Comte de, 107 
 
 Riccoboni, (cited) 147 
 
 Riccoboni, Madame, (cited) 338 
 
 Richelieu, Abbe de, his supposed 
 liaison with Mile. Moliere, 44, 
 
 45 46 
 
 Richelieu, Cardinal de, 58, 266 
 Richelieu, Due de, 211, 329, 334, 336 
 Rieux, President de, 216, 217, 218 
 Robinet, (cited) 29, 31, 60 
 Rohault (physician), 53 
 Rohan, Cardinal de, 82 
 Rohan, Chevalier de, his quarrel 
 
 with Voltaire, 154, 155 
 Rotrou, Jean, 16 
 Roucoux, Battle of, 238 
 Roulle", Pere, denounces Moliere, 
 
 70 
 
 Sainte-Beuve, 129, 179 ; (cited) 
 
 146, 190, 242 
 Saint-Ren^ Taillandier, M. de, 
 
 (cited) 242, 266 note 
 Saint-Marc (police-inspector), his 
 
 reports to Berryer, 304-306 
 Salle\ Mile., 219 
 Samson, 351 
 
 Saxe, Maurice, Marechal de, his 
 early life, 169, 170; comes to 
 Paris, 170; his character, 170; 
 becomes the lover of Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur, 171, 172 ; her bene- 
 ficial influence over him, 173 ; 
 his candidature for the throne of 
 Courland, 173-176 ; returns to 
 Paris, 176, 177 ; unjustly accuses 
 Adrienne Lecouvreur of in- 
 fidelity, 177, 178 ; the object of 
 an unrequited passion on the 
 part of the Duchesse de Bouillon, 
 179, 1 80; present at Adrienne 
 Lecouvreur's death, 191 ; unable 
 to prevent the indignity offered 
 to her remains, 194; invites 
 Favart to accompany him to 
 Flanders, 231 ; his entry into 
 Brussels, 232-234; orders Favart 
 to announce from the stage his 
 intention to engage the enemy, 
 236-238 ; wins the Battle of 
 Roucoux, 238 ; conceives a violent 
 passion for Justine Favart, 240 ; 
 his letter to her, 240, 241 ; steals 
 Voltaire's verses, 241 and note ; 
 makes Justine his mistress, 242, 
 
 243 and note ; discarded by her, 
 
 244 ; wins the Battle of Lawfeld, 
 244, 245 ; determined to recover 
 his prey, 245 ; furious at Justine's 
 escape, 247,248 ; instigates the pro- 
 prietors of the Brussels Theatre 
 to prosecute Favart, 249 ; com- 
 pels Justine to return to him, but 
 loses her again, 250, 251 ; con- 
 tinues his persecution of her 
 husband, 251, 252; persuades 
 Justine's father to apply for a 
 lettre de cachet against her, 254 ; 
 causes her to be arrested and 
 conveyed to Les Grands-Andelys, 
 257 ; his correspondence with 
 her, 258-262 ; compels her to 
 submit to him, 264, 265 ; his 
 death, 266 and note ; Marmon- 
 tel's liberties with his seraglio, 
 307 
 
 Scanapiecq, Marie (mother of Mile. 
 
 Clairon), 276-281, 282, 284, 285 
 Schlegel, August Wilhelm von, 
 
 (cited) 39, 135 
 Seine, Mile, de, 150
 
 INDEX 
 
 365 
 
 SeVigne", Madame de, (cited) 59, 
 
 96,98,99, 1 08, 109, 1 10 
 Sevignd, Charles de, 107, 108-111 
 Sicilien, Moliere's, 49 
 Siege de Calais, De Belloy's, 300, 
 
 328-331, 335 
 Soubise, Prince de, 302 
 Soulie", Eudore, 9, 15 
 Sourdis, Marquis de, 21 1, 212, 218 
 Sturtz, his letter to Garrick on 
 
 Mile. Clairon, 296-299 
 
 Tallemant des Re"aux, 16 
 
 Tancrede, Voltaire's, 301 
 
 Tartuffe, Moliere's, 29, 65, 70, 155 
 
 Taschereau, M., 43 note 
 
 Theatre du Marais, its amalgama- 
 tion with Moliere's troupe, 77, 78 
 
 Thieriot, 161 
 
 Titon du Tillet, (cited) 72, 158 
 
 Tourelle (courtesan), personates 
 Mile. Moliere, 80-8 1 
 
 Tribou (singer), 180 note 
 
 Turlupin, 4 and note 
 
 Valbelle d'Oraison, Comte de, 
 amant de caur of Mile. Clairon, 
 318, 319 ; offers to make her his 
 wife and accompany her to 
 Russia, 320 ; has a gold medal 
 struck in her honour, 320 ; 
 quarrels with her, 341 
 Varlet de la Grange, Charles, 73, 
 
 75, 76 and note, 78 
 Vestris, Madame, 171 note 
 Vigee Lebrun, Madame, (cited) 
 
 347 
 Villars, Duchesse de, patronises 
 
 Mile, de Camargo, 207 
 Villeguillon, M. de, 317 
 Villepinte, M. de, 322, 351 
 Villeroi, Duchesse de, 332, 337 
 Voisenon, Abb6 de, his relations 
 with Justine Favart, 267 ; his 
 
 bon mot at the first representa- 
 tion of Les Amours de Bastien 
 et Bastienne, 268 ; overcomes 
 Justine's unwillingness to re- 
 nounce the theatre, 27 1 ; (cited) 
 265 
 
 Voltaire, production of his Mart- 
 amne, 1 54 ; his quarrel with the 
 Chevalier de Rohan, 154, 155; 
 indebted to Adrienne Lecouvreur 
 for the favourable reception of 
 his f 'Indiscret^ 155 ; his relations 
 with Adrienne Lecouvreur, 161, 
 162 ; present at her death, 191 ; 
 demands that an autopsy should 
 be held, 191 ; refuses to believe 
 that she was poisoned, 192 note ; 
 endeavours to bring about a 
 revolt at the Come'die-Francaise, 
 
 195 ; his poem upon Adrienne's 
 death, 195 ; writes her eloge, 195, 
 
 196 ; his verses to Miles. Camar- 
 go and Salle, 275 ; his Orphelin 
 de la Chine, 294 and 314 and 
 note ; triumph of Mile. Dumesnil 
 in his M trope, 176 ; success of 
 his Tancrede, 301 ; his admira- 
 tion of Mile. Clairon's acting, 
 312 ; visited by Mile. Clairon at 
 Ferny, 334, 335 ; apotheosised by 
 her and Marmontel, 335 note 
 
 W 
 
 Walpole, Horace, (cited) 336, 344 
 Wiirtemberg, Prince of, sups with 
 Mile. Gaussin, 306 note 
 
 X 
 
 Ximenes, Marquis de, lover of Mile. 
 Clairon, 317 ; his love killed by a 
 bon mot, 317 ; his retort, 318 
 
 Zaire, Voltaire's, Mile. Gaussin's 
 acting in, 275 
 
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