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the day precisely because reason was on their side.

If you glance over the annals of the Comédie Française, you will find that the whole of its history is a long series of quarrels and conflicts between the republic of the actors, the personal government of the gentilshommes de la chambre, and that third power, the public, who had no other weapons to fight their battles with but their whistles and hisses.

This public was a jealous and vigilant guardian of tradition. It no doubt accepted the innovations of writers and actors, but it was fond of rules, and reminded the actors of them when they showed signs of departing from them. It was, in fact, the public that made the education of the actors; it placed under their eyes the models of past times, insisting that they be followed; so that in the composition and interpretation of pieces there was no sudden rupture of continuity.

It was thus that the Comédie Française passed through the brilliant eighteenth century, adding to the répertoire of its immortal founders an immense number of works, some of which are veritable chefs-d'œuvre, while others, less important, form what is called, in theatrical parlance, le répertoire de second ordre. Before leaving this subject, let us stop for a moment and consider a circumstance which it is essential to point out, because it has contributed in a great measure to the formation of this répertoire, whether of the first or second order.

You have perhaps noticed that, among the great pieces laid before you by the Comédie Française, several small pieces have slipped in; some are simply vaudevilles and others mere farces. Perhaps you have not well understood how La Maison de Molière could stoop to such small works. It is because, as I have already pointed out to you, and cannot repeat too often, every thing at the Comédie Française is linked with tradition.

As there was formerly but one theatre in Paris which, by virtue of the privilege granted it, alone had the right to give dramatic performances, it was bound to open its doors to pieces of all kinds. In consequence, you will find

in the répertoire of Molière, by the side of great five-act pieces, bouffonneries which in our days would be acted at the Variétés and the Palais-Royal-for instance, the Médecin malgré lui and the Mariage forcé, not to mention any others. But, as the Comédie Française assumed more importance in the world of letters, it was obliged to put on a graver tone; it appeared offensive to hear the language of Tabarrin on the same stage where, on the previous night, the dignified alexandrines of Corneille had been heard. An incident of Parisian life in the eighteenth century rendered the contrast still more striking.

Every year in Paris two fairs used to be held on public places, which were deserts then, but which are now covered with houses. The more celebrated of the two was the St. Laurent fair, and the older the St. Germain fair. Mountebanks repaired thither in great numbers, and among them were a few stage managers.

These impresarios of the booth came into contact with two privileges: if they desired to make their actors sing, they had the Opéra down on them, for the Opéra alone had the right to charm the ears of the Parisians; if they contented themselves with mere dialogues, they came across the Comédie Française, which prohibited them, in virtue of its prerogatives, the right of exhibiting speaking characters.

But in France, the classic land of privileges, it must be said that privilege has never been favorably regarded by the public. The people has always taken the side of free competition. Is this feeling one of justice, or is it merely a love of finding fault? I will not attempt to decide. In any case, the humble managers of the booth theatres found in the public a benevolent ally as witty as it was noisy. The censorship forbade these strolling companies to indulge in dialogues; so they resorted to mere gestures, while a voice behind the scenes recited the piece as it went on, and the audience applauded enthusiastically. When the moment came for singing a couplet, a great placard was suddenly hoisted in front of the public, on which were written the words and music of the song, and the audience sang the forbidden air, while the actors mimicked the words. The authorities

added prohibition to prohibition, but it was all in vain; a thousand ingenious ways of evading them were always found; so they had to retreat, and to allow new theatres to be established with privileges which permitted them to play pieces of an inferior class.

From that moment the Comédie Française closely confined itself to what are called the serious class of pieces. But, as long as lasted this little war, which amused the eighteenth century so much, and the history of which would take up a whole volume, the Comédie had followed in the track of Molière; it had mixed up farces, comic ballets, and even rhyming burlesques with great works. The tradition was founded; it has been preserved. In addition to certain bouffonneries of the classic répertoire, the Restoration and the times that followed it up to the present day have taken advantage of this liberty to produce at the House of Molière light pieces like the Petit Hôtel of Meilhac and Halévy, which was played before you the other day, and gay little comedies, bordering on farce, like the Voyage & Dieppe, in which I have seen le père Provost and Got many a time.

Another tradition was created by this quarrel between the Comédie Française and the secondary theatres. It was weak and timid at the beginning, but it has extended considerably of late years, and has become almost a dogma. The time came-(I do not give the precise dates, neither do I enter into details, as it is less a history of the Comédie Française, than an explanation of the customs and prejudices on which it is founded, that I attempt to give here)—the time came when the pieces of a secondary class, which flourished in the booths of the fair, were received officially on the stage of the Italiens, which had just been dispossessed of its Italian bouffes, France having gradually forgotten their language, and fashion having deserted them. A number of ingenious, elegant, and witty authors wrote for this new theatre several charming works, which were very successful; among these authors I may especially mention Marivaux' and Favart.

The Comédie Française borrowed from this new répertoire some of its prettiest works. For instance, Le Jeu

de l'Amour et du Hasard, which has been created at the Italiens by the beautiful and celebrated Sylvia, was transplanted to the Maison de Molière, to please an actress who was famous at the time, and who thought she would shine in the principal character. The piece, having achieved a success, was placed in the répertoire, and is often played at the present time. It, however, betrays in some way its origin. The character of Pasquin requires a deal of burlesque acting which would appear little worthy of the Comédie Française, if we did not know that it first saw the light on the boards where the harlequin of the Italians gave himself up to the coarsest pantaloonery. They have been kept on the austere stage of the Comédie Française, because tradition is every thing there.

During the past fifteen years the Comédie Française has practised more extensively than ever this tradition which Molière has described in the celebrated phrase: "Je reprends mon bien partout où je le trouve.' It is thus that Le Gendre de M. Poirier, Le Fils Naturel, Le Demi-Monde, Philiberte, the Marquis de Villemer, and many more, have been added to the répertoire. The Comédie Française has become of late a kind of museum, where good pieces, brought out at no matter what theatre, finally receive their consecration, in the same way as the paintings, after having been exhibited during the life of the painter at the Luxembourg Museum, pass after his death into the Louvre to take rank among the chefsd'œuvre if it be thought they deserve that honor.

While the Comédie Française was forming for itself an admirable répertoire of plays, it was also gathering a marvellous collection of objects of art, statues, busts, and paintings, which might be called its trésor, in the same way as we say the trésor de Notre-Dame. Who does not know the foyer of the Comédie Française and the gallery which joins it? Who has not admired that superb marble where Molière—an ideal Molière, but no matter-seems to live again, and the pensive face of the aged Corneille, and that chef-d'œuvre of chefsd'œuvre, the inestimable jewel of the collection, the bust of Rotrou? Shall I speak of the statue of Voltaire sitting,

which is known to the whole world by the copies that have been made of it; and of the bust of the same Voltaire, which figures by the side of the statue? This Comédie Française, being a lasting institution, has been able, day by day, and seizing good opportunities, to enrich itself with these marvels of art, of which our Louvre might be jealous. The history of each of these works of art is known, as well as the way the Comédie Française got them. For this one the artist received a free admittance for life; that one was bequeathed to the house by a theatrical amateur; while others were offered by a member of the company, or given by the Government. Every half-century increases the splendor of this collection, and enlarges the library and the archives. The Maison de Molière is at one and the same time a theatre, a palace, and a museum.

IV.

All this-répertoire, company, collection of art, archives, and glorious mementoes-narrowly escaped destruction or dispersion in the great Revolution of 1789. Politics invaded the house, and divided the members into two hostile camps. The one clung to the old régime and Royalty; the other boldly espoused the new ideas. A schism was inevitable; it broke out. The Royalists remained faithful to the salle where the Comédie Française was then installed, and which is now the Odéon; the others came and established themselves in the Rue Richelieu, at the same spot where the salle of the Théâtre Français is now to be found. The dissidents were the more numerous, and, be it said, the most celebrated. At their head was the illustrious Talma, he who was to become the glory of tragedy under the First Empire. The public did not hesitate; they recognized in them the real heirs of Molière. Moreover, by one of those dictatorial measures in vogue at the time, the theatre on the left bank of the Seine was closed, and the actors who had not rallied to the Republic thrown into prison.

On the 9th of Thermidor there was a moment of inexpressible confusion. All the actors that formed the old company, each going his own way, were dispersed over various theatres. But this crisis was a short one, and in May, 1799,

they found themselves united together again in the salle of the Rue Richelieu. All the institutions of the past had fallen around them; they alone were left standing uninjured. It was still a republic governed by consuls elected for a week, and by their side was the sovereign represented by a commissioner of the Government. He loved the theatre, did the sovereign, who was no other than the First Consul. When he became Emperor, Napoleon the First interested himself in the house most deeply, and took a proud pleasure in providing a royal audience for his actors in ordinary. He felt the necessity of codifying the customs in virtue of which the Comédie Française was administered, and he issued the decree which is so celebrated in France under the name of Décret de Moscou. It was indeed from Moscow (1812) that the decree was dated. Napoleon, who had something theatrical and charlatanesque about him, did not dislike these contrasts and surprises, with which he thought to dazzle the imagination of posterity. It is useless to enter into the details of this new code; it merely consecrated old usages. The Comédie Française is still regulated by this code, although it has been modified by an ordonnance delivered in 1830, and by decrees issued in 1850 and 1857. But neither ordonnances nor decrees have changed the great features of the house, the only features that interest us in this sketch, and those great features were fixed by Napoleon in accordance with tradition. He only added one point which had its importance as regards the maintenance of the perpetuity of the Comédie Française through the course of ages. It had long been the custom that the actors, on retiring after long service, should receive a pension from their colleagues levied on the profits. But it was necessary to provide for the possibility of the company making no profits. Napoleon, besides the annual subvention he allowed to the Comédie Française, assigned a sum of 200,000 francs as a reserve fund to meet the deficit of bad years and to assure the regular service of the pensions. That measure was not useless, for the House of Molière had hard seasons to pass through.

Of the three elements which have co

operated in the formation and development of the Comédie Française, we have already seen two at work. And the third? The public-that public of great lords and well-to-do bourgeois which I described a few minutes ago that intelligent public, fond of theatrical affairs and jealous of artistic tradition.

would not admit of any thing outside these two consecrated forms being tried. It might be tired and weary of them, but it would not confess the fact, and gaped and yawned in secret. It rejected with horror every innovation as a scandal; and while in the field of literature that clamorous army known as the Romantic school arose, the Comédie Française remained obstinately closed to the new art, or, if the latter succeeded in breaking open the door, it was immediately hissed out again, and the habitués returned to sleep over the tragedies of the imitators of Campistron, who himself had imitated Racine.

The era of gentilshommes had passed, and they were no more spoken of. There were still some after the Revolution, but they no longer formed a separate body; they were mixed up with the great public, and, to use the expression of Charles the Tenth, they only had, like everybody else, their places in the pit. But the bourgeois public was found What was the consequence of all this? again, almost the same as we saw it a The public-I speak of the great public, few minutes ago; they formed round of that which was composed, as we say the orchestra of the Théâtre Français in these days, of the nouvelles couches a kind of aristocracy in the matter of sociales-no longer went to the House of taste. They were called the habitués Molière. It conceived such a deep habecause they went to the theatre every tred of the last copyists of Corneille, night; and when the actor, entering on Racine, and Molière, that at length it the scene, perceived those long rows of got disgusted with the masters thembald and shining heads, on which the selves. The Comédie Française had chandelier shed its rays, he was seized hard times to go through then. Rewith a slight trembling. I saw the last ceipts of from three hundred to a thouremnants of this circle in my youth: to- sand francs were not rare at that period : day they have entered into the category the company rubbed its hands with joy of fossils. It was in talking with them when it had (to use the consecrated that I learned all that I know about con- term) "passed the four figures," that is temporaneous theatres, for they were to say, when the receipts amounted to nearly all educated persons, men of more than a thousand francs. I have taste, who went to the play not to be in my youth often seen classic works seen, but to see. played by a company of eminent actors whose equals we do not possess to-day ; altogether there were not more than a dozen of us in the pit, where the price of the places was not more than forty-four sous; the empty boxes looked like so many black holes in the wall; the stalls alone were filled; it was there where the habitués, most of whom paid nothing, gathered together.

But this public of the Restoration and the Monarchy of July committed a grave mistake. It did not, like its predecessors, hold the balance equal between the respect for tradition and the taste for novelty. It leaned too much towards the side of tradition, and nearly caused the ruin of the Comédie Française. It was natural that the great shock of the Revolution, followed by the magnificent Imperial epopee, should have its influence on literature and the stagethat authors and actors should display to generations, renewed by those prodigious events, new modes of thought and sentiment.

But there is nothing so tenacious as a literary taste. The public of habitués had in its childhood admired classic tragedies and comedies in verse, of which the Misanthrope and the Femmes Savantes are the most perfect models.

NEW SERIES.-VOL. XXX., No. 3

It

If the Comédie Française had not been subventioned, if it had not been under the hand of the Government, it would have broken up at that epoch; for it did not cover its expenses, and each member of the company would have gained more money by playing in another theatre. But the members were kept together by the honor of belonging to a national institution, to the Maison de Molière, and by the certainty of a pension regularlypaid at the end of their career.

Rachel alone could draw receipts in

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those times. It was the great Rachel. But Rachel cost the theatre more than she ever drew, and she did more harm to art than she rendered it service. She would not become a sociétaire or member, because, once a member, she would have been obliged to share her profits with her fellow-members; she remained a pensionnaire (the "pensioners" are those who make their first appearance at the Comédie, and are pensioned until they become members of the house), because she could demand what salary she liked. The nights on which she played the receipts amounted to ten thousand francs, the whole of which went into her pocket. The next night the theatre was empty. Rachel, moreover, must be blamed for having imparted a factitious life to tragedy and for encouraging her admirers to struggle against the advent of a new art. She obstinately confined herself to a dozen rôles, in which she displayed incomparable power, and left imperishable souvenirs. She did not lend the assistance of her genius to any of the contemporary poets, or, if she did so, it was with regret, and without decisive success.

V.

It was after the Revolution of 1848 that more prosperous, if not more glorious days began to shine on the Comédie Française. The commissioners delegated by the Government to this republic of actors had already for some time been replaced by a general administrator. The names had been changed, but in reality the thing was the same. It was still the hand of the sovereign in the affairs of the Comédie. The rules which limit the action of the two powers are not more defined in the present day than they were two centuries ago. The amount of authority which falls to the general administrator depends on the prestige he enjoys. It is something entirely personal. He is the real master if he is capable and willing. I have known M. Arsène Houssaye in that post; he was master, but in such a clever and exquisite manner that nobody perceived it. M. Empis, on the contrary, acted the master in such a disagreeable way that he was removed. M. Thierry, who came next, exercised with all kinds of reticence, circumloc

and delays, at the same time appearing to give way, an influence which was for a long time preponderant. Finally, M. Perrin, of to-day, has charmed and overcome all resistance by the clearness of his views, the brilliancy of his conceptions, and, above all, by the renown of a successful and fortunate manager, which he had acquired in all his undertakings, either at the Opéra or at the Opéra-Comique. And his good luck has followed him to the Théâtre Français, for never since its foundation has the house made such large receipts. They vary from 6000 to 7000 francs. Hence the dividends shared every year by the sociétaires have become enormous. The sociétaires, beside the salaries they pay to themselves, last year had parts or shares which amounted to more than 40,000 francs. Add to this the supplementary expenses they allow themselves every time they play, or, as "weeklies, supervise the getting up of a piece, and you will see that a member entitled to the whole of one part gets from 60,000 to 70,000 francs per annum. Add again the fact that a portion of the profits has been deducted beforehand and turned into two parts, one part to increase the general fund, and the other to form for every sociétaire a little heap of money which he receives on the day of his retirement. It was thus that Bressant, when he took leave of the Comédie Française, received 80,000 francs in a lump; his retiring pension is, I think, 8000 to 10,000 francs a year.

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It is easy to understand that so many advantages, apart from the honor of being able to put on your card the words, sociétaire de la Comédie-Française," which gives a position in society, and which assures a certain consideration of which actors are all the more jealous that it was long refused to their calling-it is easy to understand that so many advantages possess an irresistible fascination for all young actors. There is not one that does not dream of entering the House of Molière one day, that does not make it the height of his ambition, and struggles with all his might and main to attain it. The high study of elocution would long since have been abandoned for the easier triumphs of the vaudeville and the opérette, if the House of Molière did not appear in the distance

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