Chapter 14

A few words, therefore, as I have hinted, about Bonaparte and his little Court.

The début of Mademoiselle Georges had made a great sensation at Paris and at la Malmaison. Formerly, one would have said at Paris and at Versailles,—but Versailles was no more in 1802.

The First Consul and his family were greatly interested in literature at that time. Bonaparte's favourite poets were at the two extremes of art, Corneille and Ossian: Corneille as representative of the powers of the intellect, Ossian in the realms of imagination. So Corneille and Ossian took the most prominent place among the poets who figured in the catalogue of his Egyptian library. This partiality for the Scottish bard was so well known that Bourrienne, when he organised the library, guessed who was meant, though Bonaparte had written the word "Océan."

It was not Bonaparte's fault if poets failed him, although he had proscribed three of the greatest of his time: Chateaubriand, Madame de Staël and Lemercier. Bonaparte demanded poets from the Chancellor of the University, just as he demanded soldiers from his Minister for War. Unhappily, it was easier for M. le Duc de Feltre to find 300,000 conscripts than for M. de Fontanes to find a dozen poets. So Napoleon was obliged to hang on to all he could find, to Lebrun, to Luce de Lancival, to Baour-Lormian: they all had posts and incomes as though they were true poets—in addition to compliments.

"You have written a fine tragedy," Napoleon once said to Luce de Lancival, about hisHector: "I will have it played in one of my camps." And on the night of the representation he authorised a pension of six thousand francs to be granted Luce de Lancival, with the message, "seeing that poets are always in need of money," he should be paid a year in advance. ReadHectorand you will see that it was not worth the first payment of six thousand francs. Napoleon also placed Luce de Lancival's nephew, Harel, under Cambacérès, and made him a sub-prefect in 1815.

Baour-Lormian also received a pension of six thousand livres; but according to the witty complaint he laid before the Bourbons concerning the persecutions of the usurper, despotism had been pushed "to the extreme of punishing him with a pension of two thousand crowns," which, he adds, admitting his weakness, he had not dared to decline.

One day—during the rumours of war that were spread abroad in the year 1809—an ode fell into Napoleon's hands which began with this strophe:—

"Suspends ici ton vol.... D'où viens-tu, Renommée?Qu'annoncent tes cent voix à l'Europe alarmée?...—Guerre!—Et quels, ennemis veulent être vaincus?—Russe, Allemand, Suédois déjà lèvent la lance;Ils menacent la France!—Reprends ton vol, déesse, et dis qu'ils ne sont plus!"

This beginning struck him, and he asked—

"Whose verses are these?"

"M. Lebrun's, sire."

"Has he a pension already?"

"Yes, sire."

"Add a second pension of one hundred louis to that which he already has."

And they added one hundred louis to the pension already drawn by Lebrun, who went by the name ofLebrun-Pindare, because he turned out ten thousand lines of this kind of thing:—

"La colline qui vers le pôleDomine d'antiques marais,[1]Occupe les enfants d'Éole[2]A broyer les dons de Cérès;[3]Vanvres, qu'habite Galatée,[4]Du nectar d'Io, d'Amalthée,Epaissit les flots écumeux;Et Sèvres, de sa pure argile,Nous pétrit l'albâtre fragileOù Moka nous verse ses feux."[5]

But something happened that no one had foreseen: there lived another poet called Pierre Lebrun—not Lebrun-Pindare. The ode was written by Pierre Lebrun, not by Lebrun-Pindare. So it came to pass that Lebrun-Pindare enjoyed for a long time the pension earned by Pierre Lebrun. Thus we see that Napoleon did his utmost to discover poets, and that it was not his fault if they were not found.

When Casimir Delavigne published his first work in 1811, a dithyrambic to the King of Rome, it began with this line:—

"Destin, qui m'as promis l'empire de la terre!"

Napoleon scented a poet, and, although the lines smacked of the schoolboy, he bestowed the academic prize and a post in the excise on the author.

Talma was poetry personified. So, since 1792, Napoleon had allied himself with Talma. Where did he spend his evenings? In the wings of the Théâtre-Français; and more than once, pointing out the man who, twenty years later, was to send from Moscow his famous decree concerning comedians, the porter asked Talma—

"Who is that young officer?"

"Napoleon Bonaparte."

"His name is not down on the free list."

"Never mind; he is one of my friends: he comes with me." "Oh, if he is with you, that is another matter."

Later, Talma had, in his turn, the run of the Tuileries, and more than one ambassador, more than one prince, more than one king asked the emperor—

"Sire, who is that man?"

And Napoleon would reply—

"He is Talma, one of my friends."

Once, when noticing the ease with which Talma draped himself in his toga, Napoleon said, "That man will be able to teach me one day how to wear the imperial mantle."

It was not all joy to have a First Consul who liked Corneille and Ossian; this First Consul had brothers who tried to become poets. They did not succeed; but, at all events, they made the attempt. We must give credit to good intentions. Lucien wrote poetry. The fierce Republican—who refused kingships, and who ended by allowing himself to be made a Roman prince: a prince of what? I ask you! Prince de Petit-Chien (Canino),—wrote poetry. A poem of his, entitledCharlemagne, remains to remind us of him, or rather, it does not remain, for it is dead enough. Louis took up another line: he wrote blank verse, finding it easier than to compose rhymed verse. He travestied Molière'sl'Avarein this fashion. Joséphine, the creole coquette, with her nonchalant grace and her adaptable mind, welcomed everyone, letting the world spin as it liked around her, like Hamlet and, like Hamlet, praising everybody.

Talma was a privileged guest in the little bourgeois Court. He talked of the débutante, Mademoiselle Georges; he spoke of her beauty and promising talent. Lucien became excited over her, and for all the world like John the Baptist in the rôle of a precursor, he managed to have a peep at the subject of the talk of the day, through a keyhole somewhere, or mayhap through a wide open door, and he returned to Malmaison, with a rather suspicious enthusiasm, to report that the débutante's physical beauty was certainly below the praises sung concerning it.

The great day arrived—Monday, 8th Frimaire, year XI (29 November 1802). There had been a crowd waiting outside the Théâtre de la République since eleven o'clock in the morning.

Here, with the reader's permission, we will introduce Geoffroy's account. Geoffroy was a worthless, shallow, unconscientious critic, who had won his reputation at the time of the Terror, and who handed on his pen to a wretch of his own kidney, to whom justice had several times been dealt by the police courts;-a way of dealing with things which seems to me to be a great improvement on the times of our forefathers. We cannot possibly have degenerated in everything!

Geoffroy did not spoil débutants, male or female, especially if they were not wealthy. Hear what this sometime prince of critics had to say about Mademoiselle Georges.

There has always been a man called the prince of critics in France. It is not the rank that is called in question, but the dignity of the particular holder of it.

THÉÂTRE DE LA RÉPUBLIQUEIphigénie en AulidePour le début de Mademoiselle Georges Weymerélève de Mademoiselle Raucourt"Sufficient measures were not taken to control the extraordinary crowd which so famous a début attracted. All the police were busily engaged at the box offices during the sale of tickets, while the entrance doors were almost unprotected andsustained a terrific siege. Assaults were attempted of which I could render a tragic account, for I was both a spectator and an involuntary actor therein. Chance threw me into the melee before I was acquainted with the danger.... Quæque ipse miserrima vidi,Et quorum pars magna fui!'"The assailants were inspired with the desire to see the new actress, and filled with the enthusiasm which a celebrated beauty always rouses. In such cases curiosity is nothing short of an insane and savage passion. Such scenes are orgies of ferocity and barbarism. Women, suffocating, uttered piercing shrieks, while men forgot all manners and gallantry in a savage silence, intent only on opening a passage at the expense of all who surrounded them. Nothing can be more indecorous than such struggles, taking place in an enlightened and philosophical nation; nothing can be more shameful among a free and an unselfish people. We may perhaps have better plays and better actors than the Athenians,—that is not yet sufficiently established,—but it is certain that the Athenians displayed greater dignity and nobility at their public entertainments. I view the rapid progress of the passion for theatre-going, the blind furore for frivolous amusement, with ever increasing pain, since history teaches me that it is an infallible sign of intellectual decadence and a decline in manners. It is also a calamity for true connoisseurs, for it lends countenance to the theory that the plays most run after must necessarily be the best...."

THÉÂTRE DE LA RÉPUBLIQUEIphigénie en AulidePour le début de Mademoiselle Georges Weymerélève de Mademoiselle Raucourt

"Sufficient measures were not taken to control the extraordinary crowd which so famous a début attracted. All the police were busily engaged at the box offices during the sale of tickets, while the entrance doors were almost unprotected andsustained a terrific siege. Assaults were attempted of which I could render a tragic account, for I was both a spectator and an involuntary actor therein. Chance threw me into the melee before I was acquainted with the danger.

... Quæque ipse miserrima vidi,Et quorum pars magna fui!'

"The assailants were inspired with the desire to see the new actress, and filled with the enthusiasm which a celebrated beauty always rouses. In such cases curiosity is nothing short of an insane and savage passion. Such scenes are orgies of ferocity and barbarism. Women, suffocating, uttered piercing shrieks, while men forgot all manners and gallantry in a savage silence, intent only on opening a passage at the expense of all who surrounded them. Nothing can be more indecorous than such struggles, taking place in an enlightened and philosophical nation; nothing can be more shameful among a free and an unselfish people. We may perhaps have better plays and better actors than the Athenians,—that is not yet sufficiently established,—but it is certain that the Athenians displayed greater dignity and nobility at their public entertainments. I view the rapid progress of the passion for theatre-going, the blind furore for frivolous amusement, with ever increasing pain, since history teaches me that it is an infallible sign of intellectual decadence and a decline in manners. It is also a calamity for true connoisseurs, for it lends countenance to the theory that the plays most run after must necessarily be the best...."

Would my readers have suspected that the famous Geoffroy could write in such a style?—No?—Well, neither would I.

Let us proceed. As we advance, its dulness ceases: it becomes almost fanciful.

"When King Priam's councillors saw Helen pass by, they exclaimed, 'Such a beautiful princess is indeed worth fighting for; but, however marvellous her beauty, peace is more to be desired.'"And when I saw Mademoiselle Georges I said, 'Is it to be wondered at that people submit to be suffocated in order to see such superb womanly beauty? But were it possible forher to be more beautiful than she is, it would still be better not to be stifled, even in her own interest; for spectators will be more severely critical in their estimate of a débutante if it cost them so much to gain a sight of her."Mademoiselle Georges Weymer's beauty was greatly extolled before her appearance on the stage, and it does not fall below expectation. Her features combine the regularity and dignity of Greek form with French grace; her figure is that of the sister of Apollo, when she walks on the shores of Eurotas, surrounded by her nymphs, her head uplifted above theirs; she would make a perfect model for Guérin's chisel...."

"When King Priam's councillors saw Helen pass by, they exclaimed, 'Such a beautiful princess is indeed worth fighting for; but, however marvellous her beauty, peace is more to be desired.'

"And when I saw Mademoiselle Georges I said, 'Is it to be wondered at that people submit to be suffocated in order to see such superb womanly beauty? But were it possible forher to be more beautiful than she is, it would still be better not to be stifled, even in her own interest; for spectators will be more severely critical in their estimate of a débutante if it cost them so much to gain a sight of her.

"Mademoiselle Georges Weymer's beauty was greatly extolled before her appearance on the stage, and it does not fall below expectation. Her features combine the regularity and dignity of Greek form with French grace; her figure is that of the sister of Apollo, when she walks on the shores of Eurotas, surrounded by her nymphs, her head uplifted above theirs; she would make a perfect model for Guérin's chisel...."

Ah, Geoffroy, I do not know whether the critics of the time of Pericles were better than those of the age of Bonaparte, first of that name; but I do know that at least one or two of ours can write in a better style....

You think not?

Well, then, here is a portrait of the same person, written by a critic in 1835. Notice the progress in style made in the thirty-three years between Geoffroy's time and that of Théophile Gautier.

"If I mistake not, Mademoiselle Georges is like a medallion from Syracuse or an Isis from an Æginæan bas-relief. The arch of her eyebrows, traced with incomparable fineness and purity, extends over dark eyes which are full of fire and flashes of tragic lightning. Her nose is thin and straight, with obliquely cut nostrils which dilate when she is passionately moved; her whole profile is grand in its simple uniformity of line. The mouth is strong, superbly haughty and sharp at its corners, like the lips of an avenging Nemesis, who awaits the hour to let loose her iron-clawed lion; yet over her lips flickers a charming smile, full of regal grace; and it would be impossible to believe, when she chooses to express the tender passions, that she has hurled forth, but a short while before, a classic imprecation or a modern anathema. Her chin is full of character and of determination; it is firmly set, and its majestic curves relieve a profile that belongs rather to a goddess than to a mortal. Mademoiselle Georges possesses, in common with all the beautiful women of pagan ages, a broad forehead, full at thetemples, but not high, very like that of the Venus de Milo, a wilful, voluptuous, powerful forehead. There is a remarkable peculiarity about her neck: instead of rounding off inwardly from the nape, it forms a full and unbroken curve and unites the shoulders to the base of her head without the slightest flaw. The set of her arms is somewhat formidable by reason of the strength of the muscles and the firmness of contour; one of her shoulder-straps would make a girdle for the waist of a medium-sized woman; but they are very white, very clear, and they end in a wrist of childlike fragility and tiny dimpled hands—hands which are truly regal, fashioned to hold the sceptre and to clasp the dagger's hilt in the plays of Æschylus and Euripides."

Thank you, my dear Théophile, for allowing me to quote that splendid passage, and pardon me for placing you in such bad company. Faugh!

I now return to Geoffroy. He continues:—

"Talent responded to beauty. The theatre was packed throughout and thoroughly excited; the First Consul and all his family were in the box to the right of the proscenium; he clapped his hands several times, but this did not prevent some signs of opposition breaking out at the line—

'Vous savez, et Calchas mille fois vous l'a dit.' ..."

Excuse me! I must again interrupt myself, or rather, I must interrupt Geoffroy.

The reader knows that it was the custom for the audience to look forward to the way in which debutantes delivered this line.

Why so? the reader may inquire.

Ah! truly, one does not know these things unless one is compelled to know them.

I will explain.

Because that line is too simple, and unworthy of tragedy.

You may not, perhaps, have been aware of that, monsieur? Perhaps it is news to madame, who does me the honour tolisten to me? But your servant Geoffroy, who is obliged to read everything, knew it.

Now, listen carefully; for we have not reached the end. This line being, from its simplicity, unworthy of tragedy, the audience wanted to see how the actress, correcting the poet, would treat it.

Mademoiselle Georges did not pretend to possess greater genius than Racine: she delivered the line simply, and with the most natural intonation imaginable, since it was written with the simplicity of passion. The audience dissented; she repeated it with the same accent; again they demurred.

Fortunately, Raucourt was present, in spite of an accident she had met with; she had had herself carried to the theatre, and encouraged her pupil from a little box, concealed behind a harlequin's cloak.

"Be bold, Georgine! Stick to it!" she cried.

And Georgine—it will appear odd to you, I imagine, that Mademoiselle Georges should ever have been calledGeorginerepeated the line for the third time in the same simple and natural accent. The audience applauded. From that moment her success was assured, as they say in theatrical parlance.

"The only thing that marred the play (said Geoffroy) wasTalma's lack of intelligence, proportion and nobility in the part of Achilles."

I begin to think we must have been deceived in the matter of worthy M. Geoffroy's impartiality and that he had received before the play a very significant message from one of the members of the Bonaparte family who was in the box of the First Consul.

Mademoiselle Georges played the part of Clytemnestra three times running. It was an immense success. Then she went on to the part of Aménaïde,—that maiden attacked with hysterical vapours, as Geoffroy said later,—and her popularity went on increasing. Then, after the rôle of Aménaïde, she took the part of Idamé inl'Orphelin de la Chine.

If men wondered how debutantes in the part of Clytemnestrawould deliver the famous line so unworthy of Racine—

"Vous savez, et Calchas mille fois vous l'a dit...."

women waited just as impatiently for the appearance of debutantes in the part of Idamé to see how they would dress their hair.

Mademoiselle Georges' hair was arranged very simplyà la chinoise—that is to say, with her locks arranged on the top of her head and tied with a golden ribbon. This arrangement suited her admirably, so I was told, not by Lucien but by his brother King Jérôme, a keen appreciator of beauty in all its forms, who, like Raucourt, kept the habit of calling Georges,Georgine.

The night that theOrphelin de la Chinewas to be played, whilst Georgine, about whom, at that hour, the whole of Paris was talking, was partaking of a lentil supper at thehôtel du Pérou,—not because, like Esau, she was fond of this fare, but because there was nothing else in the house,—Prince Zappia was announced. Who might Prince Zappia be? Was he, too, a prince among critics? Not so: he was a real prince, one of those art-loving princes whose line died out with the Prince de Ligne, a Prince Hénin, one of those princes who frequented the lounge of the Comédie-Française, as Prince Pignatelli did the lounge of the Opéra. The lounge of the Comédie-Française was, apparently, a wonderful place in those days—I only saw the remains of it.

After each great representation—and every time such actors as Talma, Raucourt, Contat, Monvel or Molé played was a great occasion—all the noted people in the artistic, diplomatic or aristocratic circles went to have a few minutes' chat in the box of the hero or of the heroine of the evening; then they returned to the lounge and joined the general company there.

Bonaparte's budding Court, which made such efforts to establish itself as a Court, was rarely as brilliant as the lounge of the Théâtre-Français.

We were privileged to witness the fading light of those brilliant days when it shone on the box of Mademoiselle Mars.

All came to these assemblies in full dress. There were scarcely any who had not their own footstools, chairs and lounges. These were very formal occasions and, indeed, to be called a "dame de la Comédie-Française" meant a great deal; people still remember the occasion of the first attack upon this crusted etiquette.

It was Mademoiselle Bourgoin who broke through it, by asking for some cakes and a glass of Alicante. The old members of the company raised their hands to Heaven in that day and cried out at such an abomination of desolation. And their dismay was quite logical: a breach, if not repaired, is ever apt to grow larger, especially in a theatre. And that very infraction is responsible for the beer and fried eggs of to-day.

Well, as Georgine was eating her lentils, Prince Zappia was announced to her. What did Prince Zappia want at such an hour? He came to offer the key of a suite of rooms in the rue des Colonnes, which he had furnished since the previous evening at a cost of over fifty thousand francs. He assured the fair Georgine, as he handed her this key, that it was the one and only key that existed.

An oath was needed to induce the débutante to leave thehôtel du Pérou.This oath Prince Zappia took. On what did he swear? We don't know. We inquired of Mademoiselle Georges herself; but she replied to us, with the magnificent naïvete of a Lucrezia Borgia—

"Why do you wish to know that, my dear fellow? Many people have sworn oaths to me which they have not kept."

Lucien was not at all pleased at this change of residence. Lucien was not a prince at that time; Lucien was not wealthy; Lucien made love to her as a scholar; Lucien laid claim to the position of lover, which is always a rather difficult matter when one's apartments are dingy and cupboards bare: he was present one evening, I repeat, when Hermione's chambermaid came into her apartment, thoroughly scared, and told her that the First Consul's valet de chambre had come.

The First Consul's valet de chambre? he who had dressed him on the morning of 18 Brumaire? No! quiteanother person than Prince Zappia! They showed the First Consul's valet de chambre in with as much deference as they would have shown in 1750 to M. Lebel when he visited Madame Dumesnil.

The First Consul awaited Hermione at Saint-Cloud. Hermione was to come as she was: she could change her clothes there. The invitation was curt, but quite characteristic of the First Consul's manners.

Antony, it will be remembered, bade Cleopatra join him in Cilicia. Bonaparte might well beg Hermione to join him at Saint-Cloud. The Grecian princess was not prouder than the Queen of Egypt; Hermione was not less beautiful than Cleopatra, and ought to have been taken down the Seine in a gilded galley, just as the Queen of Egypt ascended the Cydnus. But that would have taken too long: the First Consul was impatient to pay his addresses and, admitting the weakness artistes have for flattery, the débutante was probably in no less hurry to receive them.

Hermione reached Saint-Cloud half an hour after midnight, and left it at six in the morning. She came out victorious as Cleopatra: like Cleopatra, she had had the conqueror of the world at her feet. But the conqueror of the world, who thought it astonishing that a débutante, whom his brother had told him lived in thehôtel du Pérou, drank water and lived on lentils, should possess an English veil worth a hundred louis and a cashmere shawl worth a thousand crowns, tore in pieces, in a fit of jealousy, both the cashmere shawl and the English veil.

I have often argued with Georges that this was not done out of jealousy, but simply for the fun of the thing. She always persisted it was done out of jealousy, and I had not the desire to contradict her.

Some days after Georgine's little nocturnal journey, the rumour of her triumph leaked out; she was playing the part of Émilie, and when she declaimed, in accents of true Roman pride, the line—

"Si j'ai séduit Cinna, j'en séduirai bien d'autres...."the whole audience turned towards the First Consul's box and burst into applause.

From that night there sprang up two dramatic, and almost political, factions in the Théâtre-Français: the partisans of Mademoiselle Georges, and the partisans of Mademoiselle Duchesnois—theGeorgians, and theCarcassians.The wordCarcassianswas doubtless substituted forCircassiansas being more expressive. But what is the meaning of the word? Upon my word, I dare not say: I leave it to the investigation of savants and the research of etymologists. Lucien Bonaparte, Madame Bacciochi and Madame Lætitia were at the head of theGeorgians; Joséphine flung herself headlong into theCarcassianparty; Cambacérès remained neutral.

[1]Montmartre.

[2]Le vent.

[3]Le blé.

[4]Galatée ayant été nymphe,Vauvres, qu'habite Galatée, signifie: Vauvres où il y a des bergers.

[5]Façon poétique de dire qu'il y a une manufacture de porcelaines à Sèvres.

Imperial literature—TheJeunesse de Henri IV.—Mercier and Alexandre Duval—TheTempliersand their author—César Delrieu—Perpignan—Mademoiselle Georges' rupture with the Théâtre-Français—Her flight to Russia—The galaxy of kings—The tragédienne acts as ambassador

In this same year, 1802, Georges was engaged at the Théâtre-Français under Bonaparte's protection, and Duchesnois under Joséphine's, at a salary of four thousand francs each. Six months later they were practically members of the company. This was the very highest favour that could be bestowed on them; and it was owing to the influence of Bonaparte on the one side, and that of Joséphine on the other, that this double result was attained.

"How was it that Napoleon came to desert you?" I asked Georges one day.

"He left me to become an emperor," she replied.

Indeed, the events which set France agog after the débuts of Georges and of Duchesnois as tragedy princesses, was the début of Napoleon as emperor.

This last début was certainly not free from intrigues: kings mocked; but the great actor who provided the world with the spectacle of his usurpation silenced them at Austerlitz, and from that time until the retreat from Russia it must be acknowledged that he carried his audience with him.

Meanwhile, the literature of the Empire held on in its own course.

In 1803, Hoffmann'sRoman d'une heurewas played. In 1804,Shakespeare amoureuxby Alexandre Duval,Molière avec ses amisby Andrieux, and theJeune Femme colèreofÉtienne were played. In 1805, theTyran domestiqueand theMenuisier de Livonieof Alexandre Duval were played; Charon'sTartufe de mœurs, Bouilly'sMadame de Sévignéand theFilles à marierof Picard; and in 1806 appeared Picard'sMarionnettes, Alexandre Duval'sJeunesse de Henri V.OmasisorJoseph en Égypteby Baour-Lormian and theTempliersby Raynouard.

The two greatest successes of this last period were theTempliersand theJeunesse de Henri V.TheJeunesse de Henri V.was borrowed from an extremely light comedy. This comedy, which was printed and published but not played, was calledCharles II, dans un certain lieu.One phrase only of Mercier disturbed Alexandre Duval. Mercier had quarrelled with the Comédie-Française, and it had sworn, in its offended dignity, that never should a play by Mercier be acted in the theatre of the rue de Richelieu.

On the night of the representation of theJeunesse de Henri V., Alexandre Duval strutted up and down the lounge. Mercier came up to him and, touching him on the shoulder, said, "And so, Duval, the Comédie-Français declared they would never play anything more of mine, the idiots!"

Alexandre Duval scratched his ear, went home, had the jaundice and wrote nothing for two years.

But the real success of the year, the literary success, was theTempliers.This tragedy was indeed the most remarkable dramatic work of the whole period of the Empire; it had, besides, an enormous success, produced piles of money, and, I believe, carried its author at one bound into the Academy.

The part of the queen was the second rôle Mademoiselle Georges had created since her first appearance at the Français four years before. At that time tragic creations were, as will have been observed, rare. Her first rôle had been as Calypso in the tragedy ofTélémaque.Who ever, the reader will ask, could make a tragedy out ofTélémaque?

A certain M. Lebrun. But, upon my word, I am like Napoleon and in danger of deluding myself. Was itLebrun-Pindare? Was it Lebrun the ex-Consul? Was it Lebrun thefuture Academician, peer of France, director of the imperial printing-house? I really do not know. But I do know that the crime was perpetrated. Peace be to the culprit, and whether dead or alive, may he sleep a sleep as calm and as profound as his tragedy, wherein Mademoiselle Duchesnois played the rôle of Télémaque to Georges' Calypso, and which, in spite of the combined talent of these two great actresses, failed as completely as did theCid d'Andalousie,twenty years later, in spite of the combined efforts of Talma and of Mademoiselle Mars.

As we were present at the first representation of theCid d'Andalousie, we know who its author was. His name was Pierre Lebrun. Napoleon was delighted with the immense success of theTempliers.He continued each year to demand his three hundred thousand conscripts from the Minister for War and his poet from the Chancellor of the University.

He fancied he had found his poet in M. Raynouard. Unluckily, M. Raynouard was so busy all the week that he could only become a poet on Sunday. His occupation, therefore, prevented him from producing more than three tragedies: theTempliers, of which we have spoken; theÉtats de Blois, which was not so good as theTempliers; andCaton d'Utique, which was not so good as theÉtats de Blois. Napoleon was desperate. He went on clamouring for his three hundred thousand conscripts and his poet.

In 1808, after four years' reign, he possessed M. Raynouard and M. Baour-Lormian, the author of theTempliersand the author ofOmasis. This was only at the rate of half a poet a year. A reign of fourteen years should have produced him a Pleiad.

We are not speaking of the poets of the Republic, of the Chéniers, the Ducis, the Arnaults, the Jouys, the Lemerciers: they were not poets of Napoleon's creation. And Napoleon was rather like Louis XIV., who counted only the dukes of his own creation.

It was about this time that the scouts despatched by M. de Fontanes began to make a great row about a new poet whom they had just discovered, and who was putting the finishing touches to a tragedy. This poet's name was Luce de Lancival.We have already spoken of him, when relating what he did and what Napoleon said to him. This worthy M. Luce de Lancival had already committed two youthful indiscretions calledMucius Scævolaand ... and ... upon my word! I have forgotten the other title; but these indiscretions were so small, and their fall had been so great, that no questions arose concerning them.

Unfortunately, Luce de Lancival laid great store byHector.He was appointed professor in belles-lettres and he intended to "profess." This was the third poet who came to nothing in Napoleon's hands.

A great event had taken place at the Théâtre-Français during the preceding year, in connection with the production of the tragedy ofArtaxercès.There was a certain individual in Paris who, each time Napoleon asked for a poet, touched his hat and said, "Here am I!" This was César Delrieu, author of the aforesaid tragedy. We knew him thoroughly. Heaven could not possibly have gifted anyone with less talent, or more ingenuous self-conceit and evident pride. The sayings of Delrieu form a repertory which hardly has its equal, unless in the archives of the family of Calprenède. We also knew a young lad called Perpignan, who met with every kind of misadventure, and who ended by becoming the censor. His task was to attend the final rehearsals of plays in order to see that there was nothing in the dress of the actors that might offend morality, nothing in their acting which might bring the Government into contempt and lead to the upheaval of the established order of things. Once in his lifetime he had a piece performed at the Gymnase which failed egregiously, and in connection with which Poirson never ceased to reproach him, on account of the expense to which he had been put over a stuffed parroquet. The play was called theOncle d'Amérique, and by inscribing Perpignan upon the roll of men of letters, it made him, nolens volens, hail-fellow with such men as M. de Chateaubriand and M. Viennet. Let us hasten to add, to the credit of Perpignan, that he did not take advantage of this privilege as a rule, except to make a jest of himself. Still, he did take advantage of it.

One night he met Delrieu, as he was ascending the magnificent staircase that led to the lounge of the Odéon.

"Good-evening, confrère," he said.

"Simpleton!" replied the annoyed Delrieu.

"That is exactly the light in which I view it myself," responded Perpignan, in the most gracious manner imaginable.

WhenArtaxercèswas again put on the stage, at the time when we saw it, and after Delrieu had clamoured for its revival for twenty years, the play, notwithstanding its being cracked up by its author, was what is called in theatrical parlancea dead failure (un four complet).

A fortnight later he was met by one of his friends, who said to him—

"So you have made it up with the Comédiens français?"

"With them? Never!"

"What have they done to you now?"

"What have they done to me? Think of it, the scoundrels! ... You know myArtaxercès, a chef-d'œuvre?"

"Yes."

"Well, they played it on just those days when the house is at its emptiest!"

And he never forgave the bad turn played him by the gentlemen of the Comédie-Française.

But Delrieu's sayings would lead us too far astray. Let us go back from the revival ofArtaxercèsto its first performance, which will bring us to 30 April 1808.

Mademoiselle Georges had created the rôle of Mandane, and had played it four times; but on the day of the fifth performance an ominous rumour spread through the theatre, and from the theatre out into the town. Mandane had disappeared. A satrap more powerful than Arbaces had carried her off—His Majesty the Emperor of All the Russias.

The Russians have never had any other aristocratic literature than ours: Russians do not usually speak Russian; instead of this, they talk much better French than we do.

The Théâtre-Français was rich in crowned heads at this period. In tragedy queens alone it could boastMademoiselle Raucourt, Mademoiselle Duchesnois and Mademoiselle Georges.

The Emperor Alexander naturally considered that the rich should lend to the poor. Besides, the Russians had just lost Austerlitz and Eylau, and they felt quite entitled to some compensation. The business was arranged through the intermediary of the exalted Russian diplomatic corps. M. de Nariskin, who fulfilled the functions of Grand Chamberlain, commissioned M. de Beckendorf, on behalf of the emperor, to arrange the flight. It was conducted with the utmost secrecy. Nevertheless, the telegraph wires along the route to the North were busily at work within twenty-four hours after the disappearance of Mademoiselle Georges.

But, as everyone knows, actresses who escape from the Théâtre-Français fly on faster wings than those of the telegraph, and not one has ever been overtaken. So Mademoiselle Georges entered Kehl just as the news of her flight reached Strassbourg. This was the first defection the Emperor Napoleon had experienced; that Hermione, the ungrateful Hermione, should go over to the enemy! Mademoiselle Georges did not stop until she reached Vienna and the salon of Princess Bagration; but, as we were at peace with Austria, the French Ambassador bestirred himself, and laid claim to Mademoiselle Georges; this was equivalent, in diplomatic terms, to acasus belli, and Mademoiselle Georges received an invitation to continue her journey.

If the reader does not know what acasus belliis, he can learn it from M. Thiers. During the lifetime of two or three ministries M. Thiers presented two or threecasus bellito the Powers, to which the Powers paid not the slightest attention. Consequently they came back to him, quite fresh and unused.

Four days later, the fugitive stopped at the house of the governor of Vilna, where she made her second halt, to the accompaniment of applause from all the Polish princesses, not only in Poland, but throughout the world. It is a well-known fact that no persons are so abundantly scattered abroad over the face of the earth as Polish princesses, unless it be Russian princes. Ten days later, Mademoiselle Georges was in St. Petersburg.

When she had appeared at Peterhof before the Emperor Alexander, before his brothers Constantine, Nicolas and Michel, before the reigning empress and the dowager empress, Mademoiselle Georges, preceded by the reputation of her great fame, appeared at the theatre in St. Petersburg. It goes without saying that at the theatre of St. Petersburg the orthodox style of drama was in vogue. Alexander might carry off Napoleon's actors; but, alas! he could not carry away his poets: poets were too rare in France for Napoleon not to keep an eye on those he possessed. Chateaubriand and Madame de Staël, the two great poets of the time, travelled abroad much; but they were not dramatic poets.

SoMérope, Sémiramis, Phèdre, IphigénieandAndromaquewere played in St. Petersburg, with more pertinacity even than they were in Paris. Nevertheless, if literature lagged behind, politics, at all events, kept to the front.

Napoleon conquered Prussia in a score of days: he dated his decree concerning the Continental blockade from Berlin, and made his brother Jérôme, King of Westphalia, his brother Joseph, King of Spain, his brother Louis, King of Holland, his brother-in-law Murat, King of Naples, his son-in-law Eugène, Viceroy of Italy. In exchange, he deposed an empress. Joséphine, relegated to Malmaison, had yielded her position to Marie-Louise. The great conqueror, the wonderful strategist, the superb politician, had not realised that, whenever a King of France joined hands with Austria, misfortune dogged his footsteps. Be that as it may, the terrible future was still hidden behind the golden clouds of hope. On 20 March 1811, Marie-Louise gave birth, in the presence of twenty-three persons, to a child upon whose fair head his father placed the crown which, nineteen centuries before, Antony had offered to Cæsar.

Europe at this period had, after the fashion of the Northern oceans, a few days of calm between two gigantic storms, on which it could think of poetry. During one of these days of calm the Emperor Napoleon gave a reception at Erfürt to all the crowned heads of Europe. His old and faithful friend, the King of Saxony, lent his kingdom for this sumptuous entertainment.

Napoleon invited the kings and queens of art as well as the kings and queens of this world. Princes crowned with golden or bay crowns, princesses crowned with diamonds or with roses, flocked to the rendezvous.

On 28 September 1808,Cinnawas performed before the Emperor Napoleon, the Emperor Alexander and the King of Saxony. On the following day, the 29th,Britannicuswas played. In that interval of twenty-four hours, the august assembly was increased by Prince William of Prussia, Duke William of Bavaria and Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, who, later, was to lose three crowns at one fell blow, through the death of his wife, the Princess Royal of England, and the child which, mother-like, she took away to the grave with her: with them, he lost that famous trident of Neptune which Lemierre calledthe sceptre of the world.

On 2 October, Goethe arrived upon the scene. He had the right to present himself: of all the names of princes we have just mentioned (without wishing to hurt the feelings of the gentlemen of the rue de Grenelle) the name of the author ofFaustis perhaps the only one which will survive.

On the 3rd,Philoctètewas played. It was during this performance that Alexander held out his hand to Napoleon at the line—

"L'amitié d'un grand homme est un bienfait des dieux!"

—the hand that, three years later, he was to withdraw, and for want of which Napoleon floundered in snow and bloodshed from Moscow to Waterloo. During the second act ofPhiloctètethe King of Wurtemberg arrived, but no one troubled to make way for him. He took his place on one of the seats reserved for kings.

On 4 October,Iphigénie en Aulidewas played. The King and the Queen of Westphalia arrived during the piece.

Next day,Phèdrewas performed. The King of Bavaria and the Prince-Primate arrived during the matinée.

On the 6th, theMort de Césarwas represented. The crowned audience was in full swing. There were present two emperors, three kings, one queen, twenty princes and six grand dukes.

After the play, the emperor said to Talma—

"I have kept the promise at Erfürt that I gave you in Paris, Talma; I have made you play before an audience of kings."

On 14 October, the anniversary of the battle of Jena, Napoleon left Erfürt, after having given the cross of the Legion of Honour to Goethe.

Four years later, almost to the day, Napoleon entered the capital of the Russian empire in the guise of its conqueror. He dictated a decree from the Kremlin, written by the flickering light of the burning city, regulating the interests of the company of the rue de Richelieu. Henceforth it was war to the death between the two men who had met at Tilsit on the same raft; who had sat side by side at Erfürt; who were called by the names of Charlemagne and Constantine; who divided the world into two parts, appropriating to themselves respectively the East and the West, both of whom were to die in a tragic fashion within five years of each other, the one in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean, the other on the shores of the Sea of Azov.

The actors of the Comédie-Française learnt at St. Petersburg the news of the emperor's entry into Moscow. They could not stay in an enemy's capital; they obtained leave to go, and set out for Stockholm, which they reached after a three weeks' journey in sledges.

A Frenchman reigned in Sweden, or rather held the crown above the head of the old Duke of Sudermania, who was king for the time being. Bernadotte received the fugitives, as they had received his fellow-countryman Henri IV. The actors made a halt of three months in Sweden, our ancient ally, which, under a French king, became our enemy. They then left for Stralsund, where they made a sojourn of a fortnight. On the night before their departure, M. de Camps, Bernadotte's orderly staff officer, sought out Mademoiselle Georges. Hermione was to be utilised as ambassador's courier. M. de Camps brought a letter from Bernadotte; it was addressed to Jérôme-Napoleon, King of Westphalia. This letter was of the very highest importance; they did not know how best to conceal it. Women are never at a loss in hiding letters. Hermione hid the letter among the busksof her corset. The busk of a woman's corset is the sheath of her sword.

M. de Camps retired only half satisfied; swords were so easily drawn from their sheaths in those days. The ambassador in petticoats left in a carriage that had been presented to her by the crown prince. She held a jewel-case on her lap which contained upwards of three hundred thousand francs worth of diamonds. One does not spurn three crowns without getting some windfall or other. The diamonds in the casket, and the letter among the busks, arrived safely at a destination within two days' journey from Cassel, the capital of the new kingdom of Westphalia. They travelled night and day. The letter was urgent, the diamonds were such a source of fear!

Suddenly, in the dead of night, the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard, and the gleam of a forest of lances appeared. A terrific shouting arose: they had fallen into the midst of a swarm of Cossacks. A crowd of hands were already stretched towards the carriage door, when a young Russian officer appeared. Not even Hippolytus looked more beautiful in the eyes of Phedra. Georges introduced herself. Do you recollect the story of Ariosto, the picture which shows the bandits on their knees? Genuflexion before a young actress was far more natural than before a poet forty years old. The band of enemies became a friendly escort, which did not leave the beautiful traveller until she reached the French outposts. When once she was under the protection of these, Georges and the letter and the diamonds were safe. They reached Cassel. King Jérôme was at Brunswick. They set out for Brunswick.

King Jérôme was a very gallant king, very handsome, very young; he was hardly twenty-eight years of age; he did not seem to be in any great haste to receive the letter from the Crown Prince of Sweden. I do not know whether he received the letter or whether he took it. I do know that the lady-courier spent a day and a night in Brunswick. It will be readily admitted that she required at least twenty-four hours to rest after such an adventurous journey.

The Comédie-Française at Dresden—Georges returns to the Théâtre-Français—TheDeux Gendres—Mahomet II.—Tippo-Saëb—1814—Fontainebleau—The allied armies enter Paris—Lilies—Return from the isle of Elba—Violets—Asparagus stalks—Georges returns to Paris

Mademoiselle Georges left for Dresden the day after her arrival at Brunswick. The giant who had been confounded at Beresina had, Anteus-like, recovered his strength as he neared Paris. Napoleon left Saint-Cloud on 15 April 1813. He stopped on the 16th at Mayence, left it on the 24th, and reached Erfürt the same day.

Napoleon was still in command of forty-three millions of men at this time, and had as his allies against Russia all the kings who had been present at the theatrical entertainments recently mentioned by us. But Napoleon had lost his prestige. The first bloom of his glory had been smirched; the invincible one had been proved vulnerable. The snowy campaign of 1812 had chilled all the friendships professed towards him. Prussia set the example of defection.

On 3 May—that is to say, eighteen days after his departure from Paris—Napoleon despatched couriers to Constantinople, Vienna and Paris from the battlefield of Lutzen, where slept twenty thousand Russians and Prussians, to announce a fresh victory. Saxony had been won back in a single battle. On 10 May, the emperor installed himself at Dresden, in the Marcolini Palace. On the 12th, the King of Saxony, who had taken refuge on the frontiers of Bohemia, returned to his capital. On the 18th, Napoleon proposed an armistice.

As it was ignored, he fought and won the battles of Bautzen and of Lutzen on the 20th and 21st. On 10 June, the emperor returned to Dresden, still in hopes of the desired armistice.

On 16 June, MM. de Beausset and de Turenne were appointed to look after the Comédie-Française. M. de Beausset's work was to see to the stage management of the theatre, to obtain lodgings for the actors and to arrange the repertory. M. de Turenne took upon him the invitations and all matters connected with court etiquette. On 19 June, the company of the Comédie-Française arrived. It consisted of the following actors and actresses: MM. Fleury, Saint-Phal,

Baptiste junior, Armand, Thénard, Vigny, Michot, Bartier; and Mesdames Thénard, Émilie Contat, Mézeray, Mars and Bourgoin. We have followed the observances of etiquetteà laM. de Turenne, and placed these gentlemen and ladies in the order of their seniority.

All was ready to receive them by 15 June. Lodgings, carriages and servants had all been hired in advance. An hour after their arrival, the thirteen artistes were duly installed. At midnight, on the following day, Mademoiselle Georges also arrived in Dresden. By one o'clock the Duc de Vicence had taken up his residence with her. The next day, at seven o'clock in the morning, she was received by the emperor. That very day, a courier was sent off to command Talma and Saint-Prix to set out for Dresden instantly, no matter in what part of France they might be when the order reached them. The order reached Saint-Prix in Paris, and found Talma in the provinces. Twelve days after, Talma and Saint-Prix arrived, and the company of the Comédie-Française was complete.

A theatre had been arranged for comedy in the orangery belonging to the palace occupied by the emperor.

Tragedies, which require far more staging and much more scenery, were to be performed in the town theatre. The first representation of comedy took place on 22 June; it consisted of theGageure imprévueand theSuites d'un bal masqué..The first representation of tragedy wasPhèdre, played on the 24th. But these entertainments were very different from those at Erfürt! A veil of sadness had crept over the past; a cloud of fear hung over the future. People remembered Beresina; they foresaw Leipzig. Talma looked in vain among the audience for the kings who had applauded him at Erfürt. There was only the old and faithful King of Saxony, the last of those crowned heads who remained true to Napoleon.

The performances lasted from 22 June until 10 August. The emperor invited either Talma or Mademoiselle Mars or Mademoiselle Georges to lunch with him most mornings. They talked of art. Art had always filled an important place in Napoleon's mind. He was in this respect not only the successor, but also the heir to Louis XIV. It was on these occasions that he gave expression to those incisive appreciations peculiar to himself, and to his opinions on men and on their works. It must have been fine indeed to listen to Napoleon's appreciation of Corneille and his criticism of Racine. And it should be remembered that, to be able to speak of Corneille or of Racine, his powerful mind had to put aside for the moment all thought of the material world which was beginning to press heavily upon him. It is true that he was continually being deluded by hopes of peace; but on the evening of 11 August all hopes of that nature were dispelled.

On the 12 th, at three o'clock in the morning, M. de Beausset received the following letter from Alexandre Berthier, Prince of Neuchâtel:—

"MY DEAR BEAUSSET,—The emperor commands me to tell you that the French actors who are here must leave either to-day or to-morrow morning at the latest, to return to Paris. Have the goodness to inform them of this.—Yours, etc.,"ALEXANDRE"

"ALEXANDRE"

The actors left, and then the battle of Leipzig took place. The Empire's dying struggle had begun. The actors meanwhile returned to Paris. Mademoiselle Georges resumed her ascendencyat the Comédie-Française, after an absence of five years. Raucourt, though still alive, had practically abandoned her career. For a long time past the theatrical life had weighed upon her; she only acted when obliged, and remained almost all the year round in the country. When Mademoiselle Georges was reinstalled, it was arranged that she should become a full member of the company, and her absence was reckoned as though she were present. She reappeared as Clytemnestre when she was still only twenty-eight years of age. Her success was immense. There had not been many changes during those last five years at the Théâtre-Français. The important pieces played during the absence of Mademoiselle Georges were,HectorandChristophe Colomboto which we have referred; theDeux Gendres,by M. Étienne;Mahomet II., by M. Baour-Lormian; andTippo-Saëb,by M. de Jouy.

The success of theDeux Gendreswas not contested, and it could not be contested. But since people must always contest some point or other in the case of an author of any merit, the paternity of M. Étienne's comedy was contested.

A worm-eaten manuscript written by a forgotten Jesuit was dragged out of some bookcase or other, and it was said that M. Étienne had robbed this unlucky Jesuit. It should be stated that the plot of theDeux Gendreswas the same that Shakespeare had utilised two centuries before, inKing Lear, and that M. de Balzac made use of twenty-five years later, inPère Goriot.All these polemical discussions greatly annoyed M. Étienne, and probably hindered him from writing a sequel to theDeux Gendres. Mahomet II.met with but indifferent success: the play was lifeless and dull.

Nevertheless, M. Baour-Lormian was a meritorious writer: he left, or rather he will leave, a few poems charged with melancholy feeling, all the more striking as such a sentiment was entirely unknown during the Empire, which can offer us, in this respect, nothing save theChute des Feuillesby Millevoie, and theFeuille de Roseby M. Arnault. Besides, theChute des Feuilleswas written before, and theFeuille de Roseafter, the Empire.

Let me quote a few of M. Baour-Lormian's pleasant lines:—

"Ainsi qu'une jeune beautéSilencieuse et solitaire,Du sein du nuage argenteLa lune sort avec mystere....Fille aimable du ciel, à pas lents et sans bruit,Tu glisses dans les airs où brille ta couronne;Et ton passage s'environneDu cortège pompeux des soleils de la nuit....Que fais-tu loin de nous, quand l'aube blanchissanteEfface, à nos yeux attristés,Ton sourire charmant et tes molles clartés?Vas-tu, comme Ossian, plaintive et gémissante,Dans l'asile de la douleurEnsevelir ta beauté languissante?Fille aimable du ciel, connais-tu le malheur?"

We must now return to Mademoiselle Georges.

Mademoiselle Georges, as we have remarked, found, it seems, the Théâtre-Français pretty much as she had left it. She resumed her old repertory. Is it not curious that during the nine years she was at the Théâtre-Français Mademoiselle Georges, who has created so many rôles since, only created those of Calypso and of Mandane there?...

All this time, the horizon in the North was growing darker and darker: Prussia had betrayed us; Sweden had deserted us; Saxony had been involved in the rout at Leipzig; Austria was recruiting her forces against us. On 6 January 1814, Joachim Murat, King of Naples, signed an armistice with England, the expiration of which had to be notified three months in advance. On the 11th, he promised the Emperor of Austria to go to war against France with thirty thousand men; in exchange for which the Austrian monarch guaranteed the throne of Naples to him and his heirs.

Napoleon then began the marvellous campaign of 1814, that titanic struggle in which a single man and one nation faced two emperors, four kings and six nations of the first rank, including Russia, England, Prussia and Spain.

If we turn over the pages of the repertory of the Théâtre-Françaisfor the whole of the year 1814, the only new play we shall find is theHôtel garni, a comedy in one act, and in verse, by Désaugiers.

Meanwhile, at each fresh victory, Napoleon lost a province. Driven-to bay at Fontainebleau, he abdicated. Three days later, the allied forces marched into Paris, and Napoleon left for the isle of Elba. There were still two factions at the Comédie-Française, as there had been during the time of the Revolution. Talma, Mars and Georges remained loyally faithful to the emperor. Raucourt, Mademoiselle Levert, Madame Volnais espoused the Royalist cause. Raucourt was the first to tear down the eagle which decorated the imperial box. Poor soul! she little knew that those whom she helped to recall would refuse her Christian burial, one year later!

The same kings who had been present at the Erfürt representations, as Napoleon's guests and friends, came as enemies and conquerors to see the same plays in Paris. Everybody knows the terrible reaction that took place at first against the Empire. The actors who remained faithful to the emperor were not persecuted, but they were made to exclaim as they came on the stage, "Vive le roi!"

One day Mademoiselle Levert and Madame Volnais outdid even the exacting demands of the public: they came on the stage, in theVieux Célibataire, with huge bouquets of lilies in their hands.

So things went on until 6 March 1815. On that day a strange, incredible, unheard-of rumour spread through Paris, and, from Paris, to all the four quarters of the earth. Napoleon had landed. Many hearts trembled at the news; but few were more agitated than those of the faithful actors who had not forgotten that once, when he was master of the world and emperor he had conversed upon art and poetry with them.

Nevertheless, nobody dared express his joy: hope was faint, the truth of the rumour uncertain.

According to the official newspapers, Napoleon was wandering, hunted and beaten, among the mountains, where he could not avoid being captured before long. Truth, like everythingthat is real, makes itself seen in the end. A persistent rumour came from Gap, from Sisteron, from Grenoble; the fugitive of theJournal des Débatswas a conqueror round whom the people rallied in intoxicated delight. Labédoyère and his regiment, Ney and his army corps rallied round him. Lyons had opened its gates to him, and from the heights of Fourvières the imperial eagle had started on the flight which, from tower to tower, was to bring it at last to the towers of Nôtre Dame.

On 19 March, the Tuileries was evacuated: a courier was sent to carry this news to Napoleon, who was at Fontainebleau. People expected him all day long on the 20th; they felt confident that he would make a triumphal entry along the boulevards. Mars and Georges had taken a window at Frascati's. They wore hats of white straw, with enormous bunches of violets in them. They attracted much notice, for it was known that they had been persecuted for a year at the Comédie-Française on account of their attachment to the emperor.

The bouquets of violets symbolised the month of March: the King of Rome's birthday was in the month of March, and also the return of Napoleon. From that day violets became a badge. People wore violets in all sorts of fashions—in hats, hanging by their sides, as trimmings to dresses. Some, more fanatic than others, wore a gold violet in their buttonholes, as an order of chivalry. There was quite as great a reaction against the Bourbons as there had been in their favour a year before.

When Talma, Mars and Georges appeared, they were overwhelmed with applause. Georges saw the emperor again at the Tuileries. By dint of his powerful character, Napoleon seemed to have put everything behind him. One might have said he had not left the château of Catherine de Médicis save, as had been his custom, to bring back news of a fresh victory. The only thing that distressed him was that they had taken away some of his favourite pieces of furniture.

He missed greatly a little boudoir, hung with tapestry that had been worked by Marie-Louise and the ladies of the Court.

"Would you believe it, my dear," he said to Georges, "I found asparagus stalks on the arm-chairs!" This was the worst with which he reproached Louis XVIII.

The return of the god was of as short duration as the apparition of a ghost. Waterloo succeeded Leipzig; Saint-Helena, the isle of Elba. It was a more terrible, a more melancholy counterpart! Leipzig was but a wound, Waterloo was death; the isle of Elba was but exile, Saint-Helena was the tomb!

One might almost say that he carried everything away with him. We again turn over the leaves of the repertory of the Théâtre-Français and we do not find any play of importance produced throughout the year 1815. The lilies reappeared and the poor violets were exiled;—with the violets, Georges exiled herself. She went to the provinces, where she remained for several years; she reappeared in 1823, more beautiful than she had ever been. She was then thirty-eight.

I will find an opportunity to pass in review the men of letters and the literary works of the Empire, to which, on account of my callow youth, I have scarcely referred, during the period in which these men and their works flourished. Indeed, when Georges made her début, the two men who were to add to her reputation by means ofChristine, BérengèreandMarguerite de Bourgogne, Marie TudorandLucrèce Borgia, were still wailing at their mothers' breasts. Taken all round, whatever people may say, these five rôles were Georges' greatest successes. Meanwhile, on 12 April 1823, the great actress played inComte Julienat the Odéon.

The drawbacks to theatres which have the monopoly of a great actor—Lafond takes the rôle of Pierre de Portugal upon Talma declining it—Lafond—His school—His sayings—Mademoiselle Duchesnois—Her failings and her abilities—Pierre de Portugalsucceeds

The great day for the representation ofPierre de Portugalcame at last. Talma, preoccupied with his creation of the part of Danville in theÉcole des Vieillards, had declined to take the rôle of Pierre de Portugal. Lafond had accepted it, and he and Mademoiselle Duchesnois had to bear the brunt of the whole play. Herein lay the indisputable test pointed out by Lassagne: could the play possibly succeed without Talma? The great inconvenience of thatrara avis, as Juvenal puts it, or, in theatre parlance, the actor who brings in the receipts, is that on days when he does not play the theatre loses heavily; plays in which he does not figure are judged beforehand to be unworthy of public notice, since they have not been honoured by the actor's concurrence.

At the time to which we are referring the Théâtre-Français was better off than it is now. One day it made money by Talma's tragic acting; the next, it made money by Mademoiselle Mars in comedy. Casimir Delavigne began its downfall by making the two eminent artistes appear together in the same play and on the same day. As for Lafond and Mademoiselle Duchesnois, neither apart nor together did they bring in sufficient receipts.

Lafond would be about forty then: he came out first in 1800, at the Théâtre-Français, in the part of Achilles. Later, when supported by Geoffroy, inTancrède, inAdélaïde Duguesclinand inZaire, he became as successful as Talma. The scurvyrace of sheep which we have always with us, which takes its nutriment in the pastures of poetry and which is too feeble to form its own opinion based on its own mental capacity, adopts a judgment ready made wherever it can. It bleated concerning Lafond, "Lafond is inimitable in the rôle of French cavalier."

There was always, at this period of the drama, a part called the French cavalier. This part was invariably played by a person decorated with a plumed toque, clad in a yellow tunic braided with black, ornamented with representations of the sun, or of golden palms when the cavalier was a prince, and wearing buff-leather boots. It was not imperative that the hero should be French, or wear golden spurs, to be a French cavalier: the rôle was designed on well defined lines, and belonged to a particular school. Zamore was a French cavalier, Orosmane was a French cavalier, Philoctètes was a French cavalier. The only distinctions between them were as follows: Zamore played in a cap decorated with peacock feathers, and in a cloak of parrot's feathers, with a girdle of ostrich plumes. Orosmane played in a long robe of white taffeta dropping with spangles and trimmed with minever, in a turban opening out wide like a blunderbuss and decorated with a crescent of Rhine stones, in red foulard trousers and yellow slippers. Philoctètes played in a loose coat of red horse-hair, a cuirass of velvet embroidered with gold, and was furnished with a warlike sword.

Vanhove, in order to play Agamemnon, had a cuirass which cost him a small fortune, two hundred louis, I believe; it was ornamented by two trophies, hand-worked—a magnificent bit of work, representing cannons and drums.

I once said to Lafond—

"M. Lafond, why do you play Zamore in such a shabby girdle? Your feathers look like fish-bones; they are positively indecent!"

"Young man," replied Lafond, "Zamore is not rich; Zamore is a slave; Zamore could not afford to buy himself a new girdle every day; I am true to history."

What was perhaps less true to history was the expansive Stomach which the girdle enclosed.

Lafond's triumphs in these cavalier parts made Talma nearly die of envy. One day Geoffroy's articles exasperated him to such a degree that, on meeting the critic in the wings, he flew at him and bit him—at the risk of poisoning himself. But as the law of universal stability decrees that every bullet shall find its billet, the populace, by degrees, grew tired of Lafond's redundant declamation and emphatic gestures, which, at the time of which we are speaking, being used only by a few old-fashioned members of the school of Larive, drew receipts no longer, even when they played the parts ofchevaliers français.

Lafond was an odd fellow in other ways besides. Thanks to his Gascon accent and to his way of saying things, one never knew whether he were talking nonsense or saying something witty.

He once came into the lounge of the Théâtre-Français when Colson (an indifferent actor who was often hissed) was blurting out his caricature of Lafond's trick of over-acting. Colson pulled himself up; but it was too late: Lafond had heard his voice in the corridor. He made straight for Colson.

"Eh! Colson, my friend," he said, in that Bordelais accent of which none but those who have heard and followed it could form any idea, "they tell me you have been taking me off?"

"Oh! M. Lafond," Colson replied, trying to recover himself, "take you off?... No, I swear I...."

"All right! all right! that was what I was told.... Come, Colson, do me a favour."

"What is it, M. Lafond?"

"Act my part before me."

"Oh, M. Lafond...."

"I beg you to do it; I shall really be extremely obliged to you."

"The deuce!" said Colson. "If you really wish it...."

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