Henri Fourcade was Fourcade's brother, my old friend, of whom I have already spoken with reference to my early love affairs at Villers-Cotterets; who, it will be recollected, danced so well, and had in his pocket a second pair of gloves to change, when he went to the ball—a luxury at which I had been struck dumb. One night, then, when we had been laughing, talking, spouting verses, playing music, and having supper, as I was about to see my friends out and was lighting them from the top of my landing, I felt suddenly overtaken with a slight trembling in my legs; I took no notice of it and lent against the bannisters, half to light those who were going downstairs and half to support myself, as I shouted a ringing, cheerfulau revoir! to them. Then, when the sound of their footsteps was lost in the square, I turned round to go into my rooms.
"Oh, monsieur!" said Catherine to me, "how pale you are!"
"Nonsense; am I really, Catherine?" I said laughingly. "Go and look in the glass, sir, and see."
I followed her advice and looked in the glass. I was, indeed, exceedingly pale. At the same time, I was seized with a shaking which gradually turned to a violent shivering fit.
"It is queer," I said; "I feel very cold."
"Ah! monsieur," cried Catherine; "that is how it begins."
"What, Catherine?"
"The cholera, monsieur."
"You think I have the cholera then, Catherine?"
"Oh! I am sure of it, monsieur."
"Oh! Then, Catherine, let us lose no time: get a lump of sugar, dip it in ether and fetch a doctor."
Catherine went away, tumbling against the furniture as she left, and exclaiming—
"Oh!mon Dieu!Master has the cholera!"
Meanwhile, as I felt my strength failing rapidly, I went up to my bed, undressed myself as fast as possible, and lay down. I shivered more and more. Catherine returned; the poor girl was nearly off her head: instead of bringing me a lump of sugar dipped in ether, she brought me a wineglassful of ether. When I say full, I should add that, by good fortune, her hand had trembled so much that the glass was no more than two-thirds full. She gave it to me. With more reason for my condition than she, I hardly knew what I was doing; I did not remember what it was I had asked her for, and was ignorant of the contents of the glass she held out to me, I carried it to my lips and swallowed a whole ounce of ether at a gulp. I felt as though I had swallowed the sword of the Avenging Angel! I heaved a sigh, closed my eyes, and my head fell back on the pillow. No chloroform ever produced a quicker result. From that moment and for two hours my unconsciousness lasted, I knew nothing at all; only, when I opened my eyes again, I was in avapour bath which, by means of a pipe, my doctor was administering to me beneath my bedclothes, whilst a good neighbour was rubbing me on the top of the sheets with a warming-pan full of embers. I do not know what I shall feel like in hell, but I shall never even there be more nearly roasted than I was that night. I spent five or six days without being able to put a foot out of my bed; I was literally exhausted. Every day Harel's card was brought in; he was told, as was everybody else, that I could not see visitors. When I again opened my doors to people, the first thing I saw through the half-opened door was his smiling, clever face.
"What about the cholera?" I asked.
"It has departed!"
"Are you sure of it?"
"It did not pay its expenses.... Ah! my friend, what a capital time for launching a drama!"
"Do you think so?"
"There will be a reaction in favour of the theatres; besides, you saw what I put in the newspapers?"
"Yes, about the places of entertainment not having had a single case of cholera in them.... My dear Harel, you are the cleverest man of the nineteenth century!"
"Oh! not so!"
"Why not?"
"You can well see why not, since I cannot get you to write me a play."
"In all conscience, am I in a fit state for doing it?"
"You?..."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I am possessed with all the devils of a fever."
"They will give you an inspiration."
"But, seriously, let me see what your play is about."
"Well, I am going to tell you the truth."
"Really?"
"On my honour."
"Harel! Harel! Harel!"
"How stupid you are!"
"You can see very well that I did not make you say it."
"But if you make me say it; it only proves your cleverness, because you make me stupid."
"Come, stop affectations! what were we saying?"
"That a young man from Tonnerre, named Frédérick Gaillardet, has brought me a MS. which has some ideas in it, but he has never had anything to do with the stage; it is not, dramatically speaking, any good as it is. But I have entered into treaty with him because I have my own plans."
"Let us hear what they are."
"For a long time Janin has wanted to write a drama."
"Good!"
"I said, 'Here is your excuse ready to hand!' I took my young author's MS. to him."
"Next?"
"He read it."
"And then?"
"He agreed with me that there was dramatic material in it.
"And that drama ...?"
"He has hunted for it for six weeks, and not found it."
"Then he has added nothing to the original manuscript." "Indeed, he has rewritten it."
"What then?"
"It is better written, but no more fit for acting."
"So that it has already two authors?"
"You need not trouble yourself about Janin."
"Why not?"
"Because, this morning, he took his own MS. and that of M. Gaillardet in his arms, and flung them on Georges's sofa, saying to me, 'You and your drama there can go to the devil! '"
"Then you came to me; thanks!"
"What does that matter to you, my friend? Read this."
"But I tell you I am very weak. I cannot even read."
"I will send Verteuil to you; he will read the piece to you: he reads very well."
"Shall I not get into trouble with your young man?"
"He is as meek as a lamb, my dear fellow!"
"I see, and you wish to shear him?"
"There is no talking seriously with you."
"Send Verteuil to me."
"When?"
"When you like."
"He shall be here in an hour."
"Very well, are you going?"
"I have no mind to stay."
"Why not?"
"You would only have some one to contradict you."
"Oh! I do not promise anything."
"That is needless, since you are pledged."
"To what?"
"To deliver me the play in a fortnight."
"Harel!"
"Take pains over Georges' part."
"Harel!"
"Good-bye!"
Harel was gone.
"Oh, the brute!" I muttered, falling back on to my pillow; "he will give me a relapse."
An hour later, as Harel had said, Verteuil was in the house. He expected to find me sitting up and convalescent; but he found me in bed, burning with fever, and reduced in weight by twenty-five pounds. I frightened him.
"Oh!" he said, "you are not going to work in that state?" "What the deuce do you expect else, my dear fellow, as Harel insists on it!"
"No, I will take the MS. away, and tell Mademoiselle Georges that it is impossible, short of killing you."
"Is there anything in that MS.?"
"Certainly, it has some ideas, but...."
"But what?"
"Ah! you shall see ... I dare not say."
"Then leave it to me; I will read it."
"When?"
"At my leisure. Is the writing clear, by the way?"
"I recopied it myself."
"Good!"
"I have only brought Janin's version of the MS., to save you as much time as possible."[1]
"Is there much difference between the two MSS.?"
"What do you mean?"
"Structurally?"
"It is the same thing, except for one or two tirades added by Janin."
"What about the form?"
"Oh well! it has style, you know; it is smart, brilliant, trenchant."
"I will take note of that."
"When do you wish me to return?"
"Return to-morrow."
"At what hour?"
"About noon."
"To-morrow at noon, then; rest as much as you can till then."
"I will try.... Adieu."
"Adieu!" He gave me his hand.
"Take care of yourself, you are frightfully feverish."
"That is just what I am reckoning upon. A thousand compliments to Georges; she need not be anxious; if there is a suitable rôle for her, it shall be created, or I will know the reason why."
"Have you nothing else for me to tell her?"
"Only that that I love her with all my heart."
Verteuil went away, leaving me alone with the fever and the copy of Janin's MS.
Once again I repeat it (and these lines are addressed to M. Frédérick Gaillardet), Heaven save me, after the lapse of twenty-one years, from seeming to have hostile intentions towards a man who did me the honour of risking his life against mine, in exchanging pistol shots with me; but I must, according to my accustomed frankness, relate things as they happened, very certain that, if it is still necessary at this date, the memories of Bocage, of Georges, of Janin and of Verteuil will agree with mine. Having made this assertion, I will continue my narrative. When left to myself, I began to read the manuscript. The play began at the second scene, that is to say, with Orsini's monologue. Finally, the second scene, which was then the first, remained pretty much as it was. There was, as Verteuil had told me, and as I myself recognised later, no other difference between M. Gaillardet's MS. and Janin's than the style. Janin, as is known, is, in this respect, a master before whom small fry bow and great ones salute. But a complete tirade, probably the most brilliant in the whole drama, belonged to Janin: it was the one of thegrandes dames.Did he avenge himself here on somelady,some one he believed to be agreat lady? I do not know at all; but although the tirade is well known, we will reproduce it here.
"BURIDAN. Vous ne savez donc pas où nous sommes?PHILIPPE. Où sommes-nous?BURIDAN. Vous ne savez donc pas quelles sont ces femmes?PHILIPPE. Vous êtes tout ému, Buridan!BURIDAN. Ces femmes, n'avez-vous pas quelque soupçon de leur rang?... N'avez-vous pas remarqué que ce doivent être de grandes dames?... Avez-vous vu, car je pense qu'il vient de vous arriver, à vous, ce qui vient de m'arriver, à moi,—avez-vous vu, dans vos amoursde garnison, beaucoup de mains aussi blanches, beaucoup de sourires aussi froids?... Avez-vous remarqué ces riches habits, ces voix si douces, ces regards si faux? Ce sont de grandes dames voyez-vous!... Elles nous fait chercher dans la nuit par une femme vieille et voilée, qui avait des paroles mielleuses. Oh! ce sont de grandes dames!... A peine sommes nous entrés dans cet endroit éblouissant, parfumé et chaud à enivrer, qu'elles nous accueillis, avec mille tendresses, qu'elles se sont livrées à nous sans détour, sans retard, à nous tout de suite, à nous inconnus et tout mouillés de cet orage. Vous voyez bien que ce sont de grandes dames!... A table,—et c'est notre histoire à tous deux, n'est-ce pas?—à table, elles se sont abandonées à tout ce que l'amour et l'ivresse ont d'emportement et d'oubli; elles ont blasphémé; elles ont tenu d'étranges discours et d'odieuses paroles; elles ont oublié toute retenue, toute pudeur, oublié la terre, oublié le ciel. Ce sont de grandes dames, de très-grandes dames, je vous le répète!"
"BURIDAN. Vous ne savez donc pas où nous sommes?
PHILIPPE. Où sommes-nous?
BURIDAN. Vous ne savez donc pas quelles sont ces femmes?
PHILIPPE. Vous êtes tout ému, Buridan!
BURIDAN. Ces femmes, n'avez-vous pas quelque soupçon de leur rang?... N'avez-vous pas remarqué que ce doivent être de grandes dames?... Avez-vous vu, car je pense qu'il vient de vous arriver, à vous, ce qui vient de m'arriver, à moi,—avez-vous vu, dans vos amoursde garnison, beaucoup de mains aussi blanches, beaucoup de sourires aussi froids?... Avez-vous remarqué ces riches habits, ces voix si douces, ces regards si faux? Ce sont de grandes dames voyez-vous!... Elles nous fait chercher dans la nuit par une femme vieille et voilée, qui avait des paroles mielleuses. Oh! ce sont de grandes dames!... A peine sommes nous entrés dans cet endroit éblouissant, parfumé et chaud à enivrer, qu'elles nous accueillis, avec mille tendresses, qu'elles se sont livrées à nous sans détour, sans retard, à nous tout de suite, à nous inconnus et tout mouillés de cet orage. Vous voyez bien que ce sont de grandes dames!... A table,—et c'est notre histoire à tous deux, n'est-ce pas?—à table, elles se sont abandonées à tout ce que l'amour et l'ivresse ont d'emportement et d'oubli; elles ont blasphémé; elles ont tenu d'étranges discours et d'odieuses paroles; elles ont oublié toute retenue, toute pudeur, oublié la terre, oublié le ciel. Ce sont de grandes dames, de très-grandes dames, je vous le répète!"
The first fault which struck me, a theatrical man, in the work, was that the play began really at the second scene, and, consequently, none of the parts were known or the characters properly revealed; so that while reading this tower scene, the tavern scene began to appear to me as in a cloud. But I did not stop short there, it was not a suitable moment. I began the second; but I protest that I did not go further than the eighth or tenth page. The drama completely deviated from the course which, in my opinion, it ought to have taken.
The essential crux of the drama to me was the struggle between Buridan and Margaret of Burgundy, between an adventurer and a queen, the one armed with all the resources of his genius, the other with the powerful allies of her rank. Of course, genius is naturally made to triumph over power. Then I had had an idea in my head for a long time which I thought highly dramatic; and I wanted to try to get that situation put before the public.
A man is arrested, sentenced, and laid in the depths of a dungeon, without resource or hope; a man who will be lost if his enemy has the courage not to come and mock at his abasement, but to have him poisoned, strangled, orstabbed in his corner; the man will be saved if his enemy yields to the desire to come and insult him for the last time; for, with speech, the sole weapon left him, he would frighten his enemy so that the latter would loosen the chains on his arms a little, and the iron collar round his neck, and open to him the door which he had hitherto so carefully closed upon him, and lead forth in triumph the man who expected that, if he ever left his living tomb at all, it would only be to mount the scaffold.
The struggle between Margaret of Burgundy and Buridan gave me the idea for this situation. It will be well understood that I did not let such a scene slip. It is the one that has since been namedla scène de la prison.That settled, I did not trouble any further over the rest. I wrote to Harel that I was his man forLa Tour de Nesle,and begged him to come and arrange the terms under which this new drama should be done.
I must explain to the public what I mean by settling the terms. I wished—since Janin loyally, more than loyally, generously, withdrew from the collaboration—that M. Gaillardet, who had temporarily given up his share to Janin, should take that share to himself again. At that period, unless under private treaty, author's rights at the theatre Porte-Saint-Martin, for which M. Gaillardet's drama was intended, were 48 francs for author's share and 24 francs' worth of tickets per night. Consequently, 24 francs for author's rights and 12 francs' worth of tickets were conceded to Janin. Janin, as we have said, gave up his share; I wanted this share to be returned to M. Gaillardet, and my rights to be settled independently, as if I had been a complete stranger to the work. I laid down also, as a condition,sine quâ non,that my name should be left. It was agreed in the contract with Janin that his name should be given. Harel raised no difficulties over granting me my separate treaty, which was the same as inChristine: 10 francs per hundred of the takings, and 36 to 40 francs' worth of tickets, Ibelieve. Nothing could be objected to, as the rights were proportional—if it paid, I gained; if it did not, I only made a light demand on the receipts. Now, take careful notice, that, at this time of cholera, two or three hundred francs were quite large takings. The Odéon once played before one spectator who refused to have his money returned, and insisted that they should go through the performance for him and then hissed it. But, by hissing, the wretched man raised a weapon against himself; the manager sent for a police officer, who, with the excuse that the hisser disturbed the performance, put him outside the doors. Harel, I say, made no difficulty of any kind over my separate contract; but he did over my wishing to maintain my incognito: I had a hard struggle over this, and he poured upon me all the dazzling splendours of his wit and the thundering ammunition of his paradoxes. I held out and Harel retired conquered. It was settled and signed that I was to have my separate contract, that I should not be named, that M. Gaillardet should alone be mentioned by name on the night of the first performance and on the bills, and that he alone should take the whole of the rights granted by the Porte-Saint-Martin theatre at the time when he signed his treaty; but, I reserved to myself the right to put the drama under my own name among my complete works. From that moment, Verteuil never left me; he came every morning, and, as much dictated as written by his hand, every night he carried a scene away with him. After the prison scene, Harel rushed in. It was achef d'œuvre,which would even put the success ofHenri III.into the shade. I laughed. I really must let my name be given; it was impossible otherwise. I grew angry, and Harel took himself off in despair. Theatrical managers, in those days, had a singular idea to which, indeed, they have returned latterly: it was that they made more money, with equal merit, when the name of the author was known, than if it were unknown. I think they were mistaken. The betterthe name be known, the more it rouses jealous feelings on the part of criticism: the less it be known, the more kindly does criticism favour it. Criticism, which does not produce children of its own, only picks up and fondles orphans which it can adopt; but it turns, angry and growling, on those children who are supported by a vigorous parentage. Nowadays, managers have fallen into the opposite abuse. They have hunted out from the collections of proverbs all the pieces which were no good at all—comedies which were not comedies, dramas which were not dramas—and played them with more or less success. The object of this attempt was, I believe, meant at least to prove that dramatic art is an art by itself; a rare and difficult one, seeing that Greece has only bequeathed to us Æschylus, Euripides, Sophocles and Aristophanes; Rome, only Plautus, Terence and Seneca; England, only Shakespeare and Sheridan; Italy, only Machiavelli and Alfieri; Spain, only Lopes de Vega, Calderon, Alarcon and Tirso de Molina; Germany, only Goethe and Schiller; and France, only Corneille, Rotrou, Molière, Racine, Voltaire and Beaumarchais; that is to say, but twenty-three names floating on an ocean of twenty-three centuries! Actually, this is what happens in my opinion: more noise is made round the work of a known author; people wait for and receive the appearance of such work with greater curiosity; but the public also becomes more exacting in proportion as the reputation of the writer increases: they get tired of hearing a man calledhappy; as the Athenians grew tired of hearing Aristides calledthe Just; and reaction operates with a harshness all the stronger as the previous favouritism has been great. Finally, the man who falls, if unknown, only falls from the height of the play by which he has made his début; the known author who falls, on the contrary, falls from the height of all his past successes. I have experienced this in my own case; at three epochs in my life, reaction has disturbed me to the point that, inorder to keep the footing I had arrived at, I had to exert greater efforts than those I had made in reaching that stage. We are not far from the first of these epochs, and I will relate this phase of my life with the same simplicity as I have related the rest. After nine days of work, which retarded my convalescence by more than a month, Verteuil carried away the last scenes of the drama, with the following letter addressed to Harel:—
"DEAR FRIEND,—Do not be distressed at these two last scenes. They are weak, I grant; when I got to the end, my strength failed me. Look upon them as null and void, as they will have to be rewritten. But give me two or three days' rest, and don't be uneasy. I begin to be of your opinion: there are the elements of a tremendous success in the work.—Yours always,"ALEX. DUMAS"
"DEAR FRIEND,—Do not be distressed at these two last scenes. They are weak, I grant; when I got to the end, my strength failed me. Look upon them as null and void, as they will have to be rewritten. But give me two or three days' rest, and don't be uneasy. I begin to be of your opinion: there are the elements of a tremendous success in the work.—Yours always,"ALEX. DUMAS"
After the fourth act, the poorest in the whole work, Harel had written to me—
"MY DEAR DUMAS,—I have received your fourth act. Hum! hum! Your King Louis, the headstrong, is a droll figure, indeed! But, he has abundance of wit, and wit makes anything go well. I await the fifth act.—Yours etc.HAREL"
"MY DEAR DUMAS,—I have received your fourth act. Hum! hum! Your King Louis, the headstrong, is a droll figure, indeed! But, he has abundance of wit, and wit makes anything go well. I await the fifth act.—Yours etc.HAREL"
The fifth act arrived; only, it was even worse than the fourth! Harel rushed to me with crape on his hat and his head covered with ashes. He was in mourning for his lost success. Nothing I could say reassured him; I must set to work again that very night. Two days later, the scenes were rewritten, and Harel's mind set at rest. The same day I wrote to M. Gaillardet, keeping as far as possible to my own side of the proceedings:—
"MONSIEUR,—M. Harel, with whom I have been in continual business relations, has come to ask me to give himsome adviceabout a workby youwhich he wishes to put on the stage."I seized with pleasure the opportunity of bringing forward a young fellow-dramatist, whom I have not the honour of knowing, but to whom I most sincerely wish success. I have smoothed down all the difficulties which would present themselves to you in the putting into rehearsal of a first piece of work, andyourplay, as it now is, seems to me capable of succeeding."I do not need to tell you, sir, that youalonewill be the author, and thatmy name will not even be mentioned; this is the condition under which I undertook the work to which I have been so fortunate as to be able to add. If you look upon what I have done for you in the light of a kindness, allow me togiveit you rather thansellit you."ALEX. DUMAS"
"MONSIEUR,—M. Harel, with whom I have been in continual business relations, has come to ask me to give himsome adviceabout a workby youwhich he wishes to put on the stage.
"I seized with pleasure the opportunity of bringing forward a young fellow-dramatist, whom I have not the honour of knowing, but to whom I most sincerely wish success. I have smoothed down all the difficulties which would present themselves to you in the putting into rehearsal of a first piece of work, andyourplay, as it now is, seems to me capable of succeeding.
"I do not need to tell you, sir, that youalonewill be the author, and thatmy name will not even be mentioned; this is the condition under which I undertook the work to which I have been so fortunate as to be able to add. If you look upon what I have done for you in the light of a kindness, allow me togiveit you rather thansellit you.
"ALEX. DUMAS"
Indeed, from my point of view, at any rate, it was really giving my services; although I had superseded Janin as collaborator, I did not take either the author's rights nor the rights to tickets belonging to the collaboration, which, in the contract, remained in Harel's hands, and by virtue of which Harel returned to Janin. Had Harel the right, from Janin's consent, and at his (Janin's) entreaty to substitute me for Janin? I think he had, as my substitution left M. Gaillardet's name alone on the bills, and gave him 48 francs for rights and 12 for tickets, instead of 24 francs for rights and 6 for tickets. M. Gaillardet gained, therefore, from the monetary point of view, as he received double; and he gained in reputation, because his name alone appeared. It remains to prove that the Contract Janin-Gaillardet and Harel had passed under the control of the former contract, according only 48 francs in rights and 12 in tickets. This will be easy for me to do with the two dates. The Contract of Janin-Gaillardet and Harel was signed on 29 March 1832, and the fresh treaty, which still holds good to-day at the Porte-Saint-Martin theatre, was not signed between M. Harel and the Commission of Authors, till the following 11 April. I repeat, I would rather have passed over this ridiculous quarrel as to the paternity of the play in silence;but I am compelled to lay details before my readers which will interest them but indifferently, but for which, however, they would have the right to ask if I passed them over in silence. I am writing the history of art during the first half of the nineteenth century; I speak of myself as of a stranger; I lay my plays open to the inspection of my natural arbitrator, the public; it shall judge my work, as they say at the palace. I will neither make out M. Gaillardet to be right or wrong; I will write merely a recitative, and not an argument—
Ad narrandum, non ad firobandum.
[1]In the Paris edition of theSouvenirs,1854, both M. Gaillardet's and M. Janin's MSS. are referred to as having been brought, both here and later.
[1]In the Paris edition of theSouvenirs,1854, both M. Gaillardet's and M. Janin's MSS. are referred to as having been brought, both here and later.
M. Gaillardet's answer and protest—Frédérick and Buridan's part—Transaction with M. Gaillardet—First performance ofLa Tour de Nesle—The play and its interpreters—The day following a success—M. * * *—A profitable trial in prospect—Georges' caprice—The manager, author and collaborator
M. Gaillardet's answer and protest—Frédérick and Buridan's part—Transaction with M. Gaillardet—First performance ofLa Tour de Nesle—The play and its interpreters—The day following a success—M. * * *—A profitable trial in prospect—Georges' caprice—The manager, author and collaborator
Great was my astonishment when I received an answer from M. Gaillardet, which, instead of being full of gratitude, was a protest. He wrote that the play was his own and belonged only to him; that he had not intended to have, and never would have, a collaborator. I confess I was astounded. The play, as everybody thought, was unactable as it was, and Janin had given it up, openly admitting that he did not know what to do to make it better. I flew off to Harel. I had not asked him to communicate the agreement to me, but had simply believed in his word. I accused him of having deceived me. He thereupon took the contract from his desk and made me read it.
This is what it was, verbally—
"Between MM. Gaillardet and Jules Janin on the one part:"And M. Harel, manager of the Porte-Saint-Martin, on the other part;"It is agreed as follows:"MM. Gaillardet and Jules Janin remit and hand over to M. Harel, a five-act drama entitledLa Tour de Nesle, to be played at the Porte-Saint-Martin theatre."M. Harel receives the work and will have it performed immediately."Copy made at Paris, 29 March 1832.Signed: "F GAILLARDET. J. JANIN. HAREL."
"Between MM. Gaillardet and Jules Janin on the one part:
"And M. Harel, manager of the Porte-Saint-Martin, on the other part;
"It is agreed as follows:
"MM. Gaillardet and Jules Janin remit and hand over to M. Harel, a five-act drama entitledLa Tour de Nesle, to be played at the Porte-Saint-Martin theatre.
"M. Harel receives the work and will have it performed immediately.
"Copy made at Paris, 29 March 1832.
Signed: "F GAILLARDET. J. JANIN. HAREL."
As MM. Janin and Gaillardetremitted and handed overtheir drama conjointly, M. Gaillardet must have had a collaborator, and that collaborator was stated to be M. Janin. Now, he always had a collaborator; only, that collaborator did not take half his rights from him, and was not called Janin or anybody else, since he was never named at all. I can but believe that it was the person of Janin who was regretted by M. Gaillardet; for, as we saw, he himself wrote later that Janin had been surreptitiously imposed upon him. Harel had no difficulty in convincing me that it was within his rights to bring me M. Gaillardet's drama, as it had beenremittedandhanded overto him without embargo. The drama had not been done over again by me; had it been necessary to rewrite the play completely I should certainly never have undertaken the task; but what was done was done straightforwardly and in good faith. The welfare of the theatre, ruined by the riotings and cholera, rested entirely on this work. I was the first to advise that the arrival of M. Gaillardet should be awaited. After the delivery of the first scene, moreover, the play had been put in rehearsal. Now, at the first of these rehearsals, a very curious incident happened. The two principal parts had been given to Georges and Frédérick; but, as I have said, the cholera upset everything. Frédérick, who came to listen to the reading of the first act, and who had carried away the part, was afraid of the cholera; he kept away in the country and, in spite of the notices of the rehearsals, gave no sign of life. Five or six rehearsals took place before he turned up or sent news of himself. He was a man of capricious talent, violent and passionate, and, accordingly, very natural in passionate, violent and capricious characters. He wasthe French Kean. Harel could neither wait for the end of Frédérick's fear nor for that of the cholera. He decided to engage some one else since Frédérick persisted in staying away; and he looked about him. Bocage was out of an engagement: he entered into negotiations with him. Bocage took the part, promised to rehearse it in spite of all the choleras on the earth, returned home, and began to study it. Next day, he came to the theatre without his manuscript: he knew his first scene. The report of what had occurred reached Frédérick; he rushed up, and I never saw anybody in such a state of vexation as he was. Frédérick is a great actor, an artist of talent and feeling; he was hurt in both these directions. He offered as much as 5000 francs to Bocage if the latter would give up his part, but Bocage refused it, and the part remained his.
Your grief was a fine sight, Frédérick, and I shall never forget it!
The rehearsals continued with Bocage and Mademoiselle Georges. One day, Harel, who then lived in the rue Bergère, sent to fetch me. M. Gaillardet had just arrived, and the following extract represents his state of mind. I will borrow from him direct, so much do I desire to remain neutral in this discussion.
"... I started, and before going home I went dressed as I was in my travelling costume, to see M. Harel."'I am ruined!' he said to me. 'I have deceived you, that is the truth. Now what shall you do?'"'Stop the play.'"'You will not succeed in doing that;I shall change the title and play it; you can attack me for piracy, theft, plagiarism, anything you like. You will obtain 1200 francs indemnity. If you allow it to be played, on the contrary, you will gain 1200 francs, etc. etc.'"He said the truth, for that is the protection our judges ordinarily allow to an author who has been defrauded."
"... I started, and before going home I went dressed as I was in my travelling costume, to see M. Harel.
"'I am ruined!' he said to me. 'I have deceived you, that is the truth. Now what shall you do?'
"'Stop the play.'
"'You will not succeed in doing that;I shall change the title and play it; you can attack me for piracy, theft, plagiarism, anything you like. You will obtain 1200 francs indemnity. If you allow it to be played, on the contrary, you will gain 1200 francs, etc. etc.'
"He said the truth, for that is the protection our judges ordinarily allow to an author who has been defrauded."
If I remember rightly, it was in this interval that I arrived. The discussion was violent on both sides, andthe explanations were equally violent. We had to leave Harel to hunt up seconds on both sides. Harel, however, intervened, calmed us down, and induced M. Gaillardet to sign a deed by which we acknowledged ourselves joint-authors ofLa Tour de Nesle.We each reserved to ourselves the right to put our names to the play in our complete works. The play was to be played and published under the name of M. Gaillardet alone; but Harel insisted that there should be asterisks after his name. When this deed was signed, the rehearsals went on uninterruptedly.
As the play developed, it assumed great proportions, and I began to believe, with Harel, that it would be a big success. The parts of Marguerite and of Buridan were just made for Georges and for Bocage, who were both splendid in them. Lockroy, who, out of friendship for me, played the part of Gaultier d'Aulnay, was deliciously youthful and loverlike and poetic in it; Provost (as Savoisy), Serres (as Landry) and Delafosse (as Philippe d'Aulnay) completed the characters.
The day of the first performance came: 29 May 1832; I had sent a box ticket to Odilon Barrot, telling him I would dine with him, and reserving a place for myself in his box. The dinner lasted longer than we expected; Madame Odilon Barrot, then young and charming, always a clever and original woman—a rare thing among women—was upon thorns. The great demagogue had no notion anybody could feel so much impatience to see a first performance of a play. We arrived in the middle of the second scene, just in time to hear the tirade of thegrandesdames.The theatre was in a state of boiling excitement: the audience felt the success of the play, it was in the air, they breathed it. The end of the second scene is terrible in its impressiveness: Buridan leaping from the window into the Seine, Marguerite revealing her bleeding cheek, and exclaiming—" 'Look at thy face and then die,' saidest thou? Let it be done as thou wishest.... Look, and die!" This was all startling and terrible! And, when,after the orgy, the flight, the assassination, the laughter extinguished in groans, the man flung into the river, the lover of a night pitilessly murdered by his royal mistress, the careless and monotonous voice of the night watchman is heard calling, "Three o'clock and a quiet night: Parisians sleep!" the audience burst forth into loud applause.
The third scene is poor, I must candidly admit; it was nearly all written by me, and it was a bit of gagging; still, it does not allow interest to languish; the second had sated the spectators for a time. It will be recollected that, except for an alteration in the staging, the second scene was almost entirely the same as in M. Gaillardet's manuscript. The end of the third scene, however, relieves the beginning; the last scene was entirely concerned with Gaultier d'Aulnay, who comes to demand vengeance for the murder of his brother from Marguerite of Bourgogne, without knowing that the murder had been committed by her. Lockroy's exhibition of grief was magnificent.
The fourth scene was scarcely better than the third; it was the one where Buridan and Marguerite meet in the Orsini tavern, where Marguerite tears from the diary entrusted to her lover the famous page which proves the murder. The principal scene was an improbable one; I had tried my hand at it three or four times before I succeeded. Let me add that I have never been satisfied with it; Georges, who, for her part too, felt it was false, did not play it so well as the others. But the audience was captivated, and in that frame of mind which accepts everything.
The fifth scene was short, spirited, sensitive and full of surprises. The arrest and exit of Buridan made the greatest sensation. Finally, came the famous prison act.
One day, my son asked me—he had not yet written plays at that time—
"What are the first principles of a drama?"
"That the first act be lucid, the last short and, above all, that there be no prison scene in the third!"
When I said that I was ungrateful: I have never seen such an effect as that prison act, and it was marvellously played, besides, by the two actors concerned with it, Who have the whole responsibility of it. Serres (Landry) was delightfully artless and whimsical in it. Bocage, with his great Sicilian eyes, his teeth as white as pearls, and his black beard, was of a physical beauty to which, perhaps, I have only seen one other man attain: Mélingue, one of the most beautiful actors I ever saw on the stage.
After the prison scene, the other might be indifferently either good or bad, for success was assured. This was not unfortunate!
The seventh scene, like the third, was the weakest in the work; it was saved by its wit, and because, all things considered, the spectators, like Harel, thought King Louis, the headstrong, wasa droll figure.
Finally came the fifth act, which had so much frightened Harel. It was divided into two scenes: the eighth, of a diabolical humour; the ninth, which, for appalling dramatic character might be compared with the second. Something about it reminded one of the ancient fatalism of Sophocles, blended with the scenic terrors of Shakespeare. So its success was enormous, and the name of M. Frédérick Gaillardet was proclaimed amidst loud applause.
Madame Odilon Barrot was in ecstasy, and enjoyed herself like a schoolgirl. Odilon Barrot, little accustomed to melodramatic theatrical displays, was astounded that emotion could be carried so far. Of course, as in the case ofRichard Darlington,Harel came and made me all sorts of offers if I would consent to have my name mentioned. I had refused inRichard,where nothing pledged me to it; I refused more firmly still in the case ofLa Tour de Nesle, where I was bound both by a promise of honour and a written one.
I returned home, I vow it, without a single feeling of regret. It was, however, the first performance of a play which was to hold the bills for nearly eight hundred times!Next day, several of my friends, who knew the part I had taken inLa Tour de Nesle,came to pay me their compliments. Amongst these was one of my best friends, Pierre Collin.
"Do you know what Harel has done?" he said to me as he was coming in.
"What has he done?"
"What he has put on the bills?"
"No."
"Instead of proceeding as in mathematics, from the known to the unknown, he has proceeded from the unknown to the known."
"I do not understand."
"Instead of putting: 'MM. Gaillardet et * * *,' he has put et 'MM. * * * et Gaillardet.'"
"Oh, the rascal!" I exclaimed, "he will cause me a fresh quarrel with M. Gaillardet; and, what is worse, this time M. Gaillardet will be in the right." I took up my hat and walking-stick.
"Where are you going?"
"I am going to Harel. Will you come with me?"
"I must go to my office."
"Then, quick, call a carriage! I will drop you there in passing."
I was at Harel's five minutes later.
"Ah! there you are!" he said to me; "you have learnt the trick I have played off on Gaillardet?"
"It is because I have learnt of it that I have hurried here.... It is very wrong of you, my dear friend!"
"Really! Why? Was it not agreed that the asterisks should precede M. Gaillardet's name? It is your right: you are four years his senior in theatrical matters."
"But it is the custom for asterisks to follow a name."
"Custom is a fool, my dear; we will either change it or put some sense into it; we both have enough and to spare when the devil takes us!"
"Say you have quite enough by yourself."
"Ah! You would betray me? You would go against me?"
"Oh no, I remain neutral; only, if M. Gaillardet calls on me as a witness, I shall be obliged to tell the truth."
"My dear fellow, we have a great success already; with a touch of scandal we shall have a tremendous success. ... If M. Gaillardet objects, our scandal is to hand. He will then have done something for the play at any rate."
"Harel!"
"Oh! you are really delightful! You think it is enough to make masterpieces and to say, 'I did not do them.' Very well, whether it suits you or not, all Paris shall know that you did."
"Go to the devil! I wish I had never touched your cursed play.... Listen, some one is ringing your bell; I bet it is M. Gaillardet."
Harel opened his door and listened a moment.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"I do not know, sir," the servant answered; "it is a man carrying a stamped paper."
"A stamped paper?... This is something of a novelty! Show him in."
The man was a sheriff's officer who came on behalf of M. Gaillardet, and who, like Haman for Mardocheus, served as aherald to his fame.The stamped document was a summons before the Tribunal of Commerce, seeking to force M. Harel to remove the unlucky asterisks.
"Good!" I cried, "this is a joint affair! I shall find the same when I get back home. You were an idiot to play this prank!"
Harel rubbed his hands together until all his joints cracked.
"A fine lawsuit," he said, "an excellent lawsuit! I only ask two such per year for six years and my fortune is made!"
"But you will lose the case!"
"I know that, very well."
"In that case it will be a bad lawsuit."
"First of all, I would have you to know that a lawsuit is not necessarily a bad one because one may lose it; and if I lose it I shall appeal."
"But you will lose it then, for I tell you I shall be against you."
"You will say that you have nothing to do with the play, I suppose?"
"I shall say that I must not be named."
"Meanwhile, you will be mentioned at the Tribunal of Commerce, at the Court of Appeal, by M. Gaillardet's solicitor and by your own; the newspapers will copy the law proceedings, the three asterisks will have made the public talk when placed before the name, and will do so if they are put after it; the MSS. will be put in, M. Gaillardet's, Janin's and yours.... My dear fellow, I only reckoned upon a hundred performances; now I will bet on two hundred."
"May the devil take you!"
"Will you not stay to dinner with us?"
"Thanks."
"Yes, indeed.... Does not Georges bless you?"
"Is she satisfied with her success?"
"Delighted! Although you have rather sacrificed her part to Bocage, you will admit."
"Good! is she also going to bring an action against me?"
"She has a good mind to do so, and it might, indeed, happen, unless you promise to write a play for her."
"Oh! I promise her that, if that is all she wants."
"She has an idea."
"It is not divorce?" Georges had been teasing me for a long time to write her a play upon the Emperor's divorce.
"No, don't be anxious!"
I went up and saw her. She was as beautiful as theconquering Semiramis. We greeted each other as cordially as we always do when we meet. I told her the whole story about M. Gaillardet, and I was grieved to see that she thought Harel entirely in the right.
"Well, all right," I said; "let us not talk any more about it.... By the bye, what is this he tells me?"
"Harel?"
"Yes."
"Some tomfoolery."
"Exactly.... He tells me that you had an idea in your mind."
"Insolent man!"
"An idea for a play, be it understood.Peste!You have something much better than ideas: you have your caprices."
"Not with you, in any case!"
"That is just what I complain of."
I went on my knees before her and kissed her lovely hands.
"Tell me then, Georges, shall we be held ridiculous in the eyes of posterity, for having come in contact with one another without the assistance of which Descartes talks."
"Be quiet, you big animal! and go and talk such nonsense to your dear Dorval."
"Oh! Dorval!... poor Dorval, I have not seen her for an age!"
"Good! when you have been living door to door with her."
"Precisely so! Formerly we had only one door between us! Now we have a wall."
"A partition only!"
"Bravo! Ah! but let us hear your idea."
"Well, my dear, I have played princesses and I have played queens ...
"And even empresses!"
"Stop, that is for you to do." She lifted up to me her beautiful hand, which I stopped to kiss in its passage.
"And even empresses!" I repeated.
"All right, I want to play a woman of the people."
"Yes! I know you! You would play that in a velvet dress and all your diamonds."
"No! I tell you, I mean a woman of the people, a beggar-woman!"
"Bah! Come forward as far as the footlights, stretch your hand out to the audience, and there would be no more play, or rather no more beggar-woman."
"What pasture have you been browsing on to-day?"
"On one which grew in your dressing-room one day when Harel shut me up to writeNapoléon."
"Come, be quiet with you, and write me my play."
"A beggar-woman.... We have Jane Shore; will that do for you?"
"No; Jane Shore is a princess; I want a woman belonging to the people, I tell you."
"I do not know how to draw such women."
"You aristocrat!"
"Come, have you a subject?"
"I know some one who has one."
"Send me that some one."
"I will."
"Who is it?"
"Anicet."
"This happens most luckily, for I owe him a play."
"How is that?"
"We didTérésatogether, and my name appeared; we will do yourMendiantetogether, and his name shall be on it."
"Oh! it is a regular craze with you not to give your own name?Richard! La Tour de Nesle!You will end by only putting your name to bad dramas."
"Do you mean that in connection withCatherine Howard?"
"No, I said it ... at a venture."
Some one knocked at the door.
"Good!" she continued, "here is Harel coming to worry us."
"Let us see. Come in; what do you want?"
"I bring news from M. Gaillardet."
"A second writ?"
"No, the copy of a letter which will be in all the newspapers to-morrow."
"Oh! leave us in peace!" said Georges.
"Wait then, till I have read it you."
"My dear Harel, I tell you you are disturbing us greatly."
"I do not think so!" he said.
Indeed, I was still on my knees in front of Georges.
"Listen."
He read—
"30May"To the Editor."DEAR SIR,—Yesterday I was alone named as the author ofLa Tour de Neste,to-day my name is on the playbills, preceded by two M's, and * * *. It is an error or a piece of malice of which I will neither be the victim nor the dupe. In any case, will you please announce that, in my contract as on the stage, and as, I trust, on to-morrow's bills, I am and intend to be the sole author ofLa Tour de Neste.F. GAILLARDET"
"30May
"To the Editor.
"DEAR SIR,—Yesterday I was alone named as the author ofLa Tour de Neste,to-day my name is on the playbills, preceded by two M's, and * * *. It is an error or a piece of malice of which I will neither be the victim nor the dupe. In any case, will you please announce that, in my contract as on the stage, and as, I trust, on to-morrow's bills, I am and intend to be the sole author ofLa Tour de Neste.F. GAILLARDET"
"There!" said I to Harel, "that is flat."
Harel unfolded a second letter.
"Here is my reply," he said.
"My dear man, the only answer you can make is to change the position of the stars."
"That does not enter into my planetary system.... Listen."
And he read—
"1June"To the Editor."This is my answer to the extraordinary letter from M. Gaillardet, who claims to be the sole author ofLa Tour de Neste.The play, entirely as far as style is concerned,and nineteen-twentieths, at least, as regards its composition, belongs to a celebrated collaborator who, for private reasons, did not wish to give his name after the immense success it received. Scarcely anything left is of the original work of M. Gaillardet. I assert this and will prove it, if need arises, by comparison of the MS. compared with that of M. Gaillardet.—Yours etc."HAREL"
"1June
"To the Editor.
"This is my answer to the extraordinary letter from M. Gaillardet, who claims to be the sole author ofLa Tour de Neste.The play, entirely as far as style is concerned,and nineteen-twentieths, at least, as regards its composition, belongs to a celebrated collaborator who, for private reasons, did not wish to give his name after the immense success it received. Scarcely anything left is of the original work of M. Gaillardet. I assert this and will prove it, if need arises, by comparison of the MS. compared with that of M. Gaillardet.—Yours etc."HAREL"
On 2 June, the newspapers contained this reply from M. Gaillardet—
"To the Editor."By way of an answer to M. Harel, please be so good as to insert the enclosed letter, written to me by thecelebrated collaboratorof whom M. Harel speaks, which I received at Tonnerre, where I first learnt that I had a collaborator."F. GAILLARDET"
"To the Editor.
"By way of an answer to M. Harel, please be so good as to insert the enclosed letter, written to me by thecelebrated collaboratorof whom M. Harel speaks, which I received at Tonnerre, where I first learnt that I had a collaborator."F. GAILLARDET"
My letter followed. I must confess the insertion of my letter surprised me. It was, to say the least, tactless on M. Gaillardet's part, for he thereby made an adversary of a man who wished to remain neutral. It was no longer possible for me to keep silent; the newspapers, always rather malevolent towards me, began to attack me, and I had had a quarrel the day before with M. Viennet of theCorsairein the very office of that newspaper, which very nearly ended in a duel. Furthermore, I felt vaguely that, before this matter was ended, there would be swordplay or pistol practice to be given or received. After all the mortifications the work had cost me, I should much prefer that this should be with M. Gaillardet than with any other person. In addition to all this, since my attack of cholera, I was excessively weak. I could not eat, and I was attacked every night by feverishness, which put me into an abominable temper. So I seized my pen and, smarting under the disagreeable impression that I had just received from the publishing of my letter, I replied—
"To the Chief Editor of the Newspaper."SIR,—Allow me first of all to thank you for the insertion of the letter I wrote to M. Gaillardet, reproduced in your yesterday's issue. It will be a proof to the public mind of the delicacy which I desired to exercise in my dealings with this young man; but that delicacy has, it seems to me, been very ill appreciated: the only two conversations I had with him proved to me that he could not understand it.[1]But how could M. Gaillardet not be conscious that, at least, the insertion of this letter would necessitate a reply on my part, that it could only be one disadvantageous to himself, and that, hunting for ridicule with a lantern, he could not fail to be more fortunate than Diogenes? Very well, the answer which he compels me to make is as follows—"'I have not read M. Gaillardet's MS.; it only left M. Harel's hands for a second and it was returned to him at once; for, in consenting to write a work under a title and about a known situation, I was afraid of being influenced by a work anterior to my own, and thus lose the freshness which is essential to me before I can do such a piece of work.'"Now, since M. Gaillardet thinks the public is not sufficiently informed about this sorry business, let him convoke the arbitration of three men of letters,of his own choice,and come before them with his MS., while I will with mine; they shall then judge on which side is the delicacy of feeling and on which the ingratitude."In order that I may be faithful to the extreme limits of the conditions which I self-sacrificingly imposed upon myself in the letter I wrote to M. Gaillardet, allow me, sir, not to give my name here, any more than I have done on the bills."THE AUTHOR OF THE MANUSCRIPT OFLa Tour de Nesle"
"To the Chief Editor of the Newspaper.
"SIR,—Allow me first of all to thank you for the insertion of the letter I wrote to M. Gaillardet, reproduced in your yesterday's issue. It will be a proof to the public mind of the delicacy which I desired to exercise in my dealings with this young man; but that delicacy has, it seems to me, been very ill appreciated: the only two conversations I had with him proved to me that he could not understand it.[1]But how could M. Gaillardet not be conscious that, at least, the insertion of this letter would necessitate a reply on my part, that it could only be one disadvantageous to himself, and that, hunting for ridicule with a lantern, he could not fail to be more fortunate than Diogenes? Very well, the answer which he compels me to make is as follows—
"'I have not read M. Gaillardet's MS.; it only left M. Harel's hands for a second and it was returned to him at once; for, in consenting to write a work under a title and about a known situation, I was afraid of being influenced by a work anterior to my own, and thus lose the freshness which is essential to me before I can do such a piece of work.'
"Now, since M. Gaillardet thinks the public is not sufficiently informed about this sorry business, let him convoke the arbitration of three men of letters,of his own choice,and come before them with his MS., while I will with mine; they shall then judge on which side is the delicacy of feeling and on which the ingratitude.
"In order that I may be faithful to the extreme limits of the conditions which I self-sacrificingly imposed upon myself in the letter I wrote to M. Gaillardet, allow me, sir, not to give my name here, any more than I have done on the bills.
"THE AUTHOR OF THE MANUSCRIPT OFLa Tour de Nesle"
Henceforth, it will be understood, war was declared between M. Gaillardet and myself.