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Paris As It Was and As It Is

F >> Francis W. Blagdon >> Paris As It Was and As It Is




After having supplied most of the principal cities in Europe with
capital dancers, this theatre, far from being impoverished, is still
in possession of a numerous train of first-rate _artists_ of both
sexes in every style of dancing. The men are GARDEL, MILON, ST.
AMAND, DESHAIES, GOYON, BEAUPRÉ, BRANCHU, BEAULIEU, AUMER, LÉON,
TAGLIONI, DUPORT, and VESTRIS.

It is unnecessary to speak of the talents of VESTRIS, as they are as
well known in London as in Paris. I shall therefore content myself
with remarking that he delights in exhibiting feats of agility; but
as his age increases, connoisseurs think that he declines a little.
Nevertheless, he is still, in reality, the first dancer at the opera.
It is said that his son, ARMAND VESTRIS, will, in time, be able to
supply his place; in the mean while, DUPORT bids fair to fill it, in
case the "_Dieu de la danse_" should retire; not to mention DESHAIES,
who has lately met with an accident which has disabled him for the
present; but who, when on the stage in the presence of Vestris, has
shewn that he could also astonish and delight the spectators. Without
having the boldness of his rival, he exhibits more certainty and
_à-plomb_. In the character of _Télémaque_, he appears with all the
grace of Apollo. If excellence in dancing be allowed to consist less
in the efforts of the dancer, than in the ease and gracefulness of
his attitudes, and the lightness and precision of his steps, DESHAIES
may he classed in the first rank of his profession.

In this exercise, as in every thing else, there is a just medium, and
this is more particularly observed by the principal female dancers.
The names of these are GARDEL, CLOTILDE, CHEVIGNY, PÉRIGNON, COLLOMB,
CHAMEROI,[1] SAULNIER, VESTRIS, DELISLE, MILLIÈRE, LOUISE, FÉLICITÉ,
DUPORT, TAGLIONI, ALINE, ÉTIENNE, JACOTOT, FLORINE, ADÈLE, to whom
may be added two most promising _débutantes_, LA NEUVILLE and
BIGOTINI, whose first appearance I witnessed.

Though Madame GARDEL, wife of the principal ballet-master, shines in
_demi-caractère_, her talents, in the different parts in which she is
placed, are above all panegyric. As NOVERRE has said somewhere of a
famous dancer, "she is always tender, always graceful, sometimes a
butterfly, sometimes a zephyr, at one moment inconstant, at another
faithful; always animated by a new sentiment, she represents with
voluptuousness all the shades of love." To sum up her merits, she is
really in her art the female Proteus of the lyric scene. Mademoiselle
CLOTILDE is a tall, elegant woman, who dances in the serious style.
All her movements, made with precision, exhibit the beautiful
proportion of her finely-modelled figure; but, owing to her stature,
she appears to most advantage in pantomime, particularly in the
character of _Calypso_ in the ballet of _Télémaque_. In the same
ballet, MILLIÈRE, in the part of _Eucharis_, displays her playful
graces and engaging mien. CHEVIGNY is full of expression in
pantomime, and dances in great perfection, notwithstanding her
_embonpoint_. PÉRIGNON and COLLOMB are superior in the comic style,
and all the others are not without some peculiar exellence.[2]

I should never finish, were I to attempt to particularize the merits
of all these fascinating women, who, as well as the men, have, of
late, alternately interchanged the characters they performed in the
ballets of action. Even those introduced occasionally in the fêtes
given and received by the heroes in the different operas, present a
real contest, in which the first-rate dancers of both sexes exert
themselves to snatch the palm from their rivals. When a theatre
possesses such a richness, variety, and assemblage of talents in the
same art, it may boldly stylo itself the first in Europe. But I must
confess that an innovation has been introduced here which detracts
much from what has always been considered as fine dancing. I mean the
mania of _pirouettes_. This, however, seems less to be attributed to
a decided _penchant_ of the dancers than to that of a new public, not
yet familiarized to what constitutes true taste.

During a revolution, every thing changes, every thing assumes a new
face. What was entitled to please yesterday in times of tranquillity,
is to-day, during the jar of public opinion, and will be to-morrow
subject to all the variations of caprice. The marvellous and gigantic
usurp the place of the natural, and claim alone the right to
entertain. True it is that the dancers have found means to render
this new manner interesting, while they have enjoyed the sweets of
it. The pleasure of being applauded is so great, that it is no easy
matter to withstand the powerful allurement of the plaudits of a
numerous audience. Boileau has said, "_Aimez-vous la muscade? On en a
mis par tout_." The French dancers, following his example, have said,
"_Aimez-vous les pirouettes?_" The public have answered _oui_; and
_pirouettes_ are all the rage.

When a certain king of Bisnagar sneezes, the court, the town, the
provinces, all the subjects of his empire, in short, sneeze in
imitation of their monarch. Without departing from my subject, I
shall only observe that _pirouettes_, like this sneezing, have found
their way from the opera-stage into the circles of every class of
society in Paris. There lies the absurdity. The young Frenchmen have
been emulous to dance like dancers by profession; the women have had
the same ambition; and both men and women have, above all, been
desirous to shine like them in _pirouettes_. Thence most of the
dances, formerly practised in society, in which simple and natural
grace was combined with a certain facility and nobleness of
execution, have been entirely laid aside. It must be acknowledged,
that, among the dancers in private company, there are many, indeed,
who, by dint of imitation and study, have attained a great degree of
perfection. But I now perceive that people here no longer dance for
their amusement; they dance to gratify their vanity, and many a
person who has not practised some hours in the morning under the
tuition of his master, excuses himself in the evening, pretends to be
lame, and declines dancing.

The taste and elegance of the dresses of the opera-dancers, like
those of the heroes and heroines of the sock and buskin, leave
nothing to be wished for. In lieu of drawers, which all women,
without exception, were formerly obliged to wear on the stage[3],
those who dance have now substituted silk pantaloons, woven with
feet, in order to serve also as stockings. In some particular
characters, they wear these of flesh colour, and it is not then easy,
at first sight, to distinguish whether it be or be not the clothing
of nature.

The French opera having been long considered as the grand national
theatre, it has ever been the pride of the government, whether
monarchical or republican, to support it in a manner worthy of the
nation. In fact, the disbursements are so great, that it would be
impossible for the receipts to cover them, though the performances
are seldom suspended for more than two days in the week, and the
house is generally crowded. This theatre is managed by the
government, and on its account. The Minister of the Interior appoints
a commissioner to superintend its operations, and managers to conduct
them. During the old _régime_, the opera cost the crown annually from
one hundred and fifty to two hundred thousand livres. What the
extraordinary expenses of this house are, under the present
government, is not so easily ascertained; but, from the best
information that I have been able to procure, their amount is from
three to four hundred thousand francs a year. Here is a considerable
increase; but it must be remembered that the price of several
articles is now greatly augmented, if not doubled.

The receipt of the opera, on an average, used to be from twelve to
fifteen thousand livres a night; what it is at this day, is not
positively known. Formerly, the produce of the boxes, let by the
year, was such, that nine thousand livres were paid, in a manner,
before the doors were thrown open. That resource is almost void at
present; nevertheless, this house being more spacious than the old
one, the prices of admission higher, and the performance, perhaps,
more constantly attended, the money taken at the door cannot well be
less than it was formerly. It then cost much less than it does now to
bring out a new piece. Thirty or forty thousand livres were
sufficient for the production of the most magnificent opera; while
the disbursements to be made for _Tamerlan_ will, it is thought,
amount to upwards of eighty thousand francs. At this rate, the first
representation of the _Mystères d'Isis_, of which so much has been
said, must have been attended with an expense of more than a hundred
thousand. Scandal whispers, that the managers of the opera are rather
partial to expensive pieces; but as they are accountable for their
conduct to the Minister of the Interior, I should presume that they
must act as honourable men.

The salaries are not considerable at this theatre. The first
performers have not more than twelve thousand francs a year,
exclusively of the _feux_, which is the sum given to each of them,
when they perform. This, I understand, does not exceed a louis a
night. Those who have a name, indemnify themselves by going, from
time to time, to play in the great commercial towns of the
departments, such as Bordeaux, Lyons, Marseilles, &c. where they
generally collect a rich harvest. It is said that VESTRIS has
received from the government a gratification to prevent him from
visiting the British metropolis; and it is also reported that DIDELOT
and LABORIE have made vain efforts to return to the Parisian opera;
but that the managers, faithful to their instructions, refuse to
readmit such of the old performers as have voluntarily quitted it.
What attaches performers to the opera-house is the _pension de
retraite._ They all eventually obtain it, even the chorus-singers.

The remuneration of authors, that is, of the poet and composer of the
music, is to each three hundred francs for every representation, when
the piece is not less than three acts. This is the most common
division. I know of no operas in one act; those in two are paid in
the above proportion.[4]

[Footnote 1: GARDEL has lately added another sprig of laurel to his
brow, by the production of a new pantomimical ballet, called _Daphnis
et Pandrose, ou la vengeance de l'amour_. He has borrowed the subject
from a story of Madame DE GENLIS, who took it from fable. Every
resource of his inexhaustible genius has been employed to give the
happiest effect to this charming work, to enumerate the beauties of
which is, by general report, beyond the powers of language. All the
first-rate dancers of both sexes are placed in the most advantageous
point of view throughout this ballet. Madame GARDEL performs in it
the part of Cupid, with all the charms, wiles, and graces which poets
ascribe to the roguish deity. The other characters are represented in
a manner no less interesting. In short, music, dancing, pantomime,
dress, decoration, every thing in this piece, concurs to stamp it as
one of the most wonderful productions of the kind ever exhibited to
the admiration of the public.]

[Footnote 2: In a preceding note, VESTRIS has been mentioned as the
reputed lover of Mademoiselle CHAMEROI, and from this instance of
illicit intercourse, it might, perhaps, be erroneously inferred that
most of the Parisian female opera-dancers had overleaped the pale of
virtue. Without pretending to enter the lists as the champion of
their character, though I admire their talents as warmly as any
amateur, truth induces me to observe that many of these ladies enjoy
an unblemished reputation. Madame VESTRIS, in particular, is
universally represented as a young and pretty woman, much attached to
her faithless husband, and, notwithstanding his improper example, a
constant observer of the most exemplary conduct.]

[Footnote 3: Many years ago, a Parisian actress, coming on the stage
in the part of _Mérope_, in the tragedy of that name, her petticoats
somehow happened to catch in the side-scene, and, in her hasty
endeavours to disentangle them, she exhibited to the audience the
hind part of her person. In consequence of this accident, a _sentence
de police_ enjoined every woman, whether actress or dancer, not to
appear on the boards of any theatre, without drawers.]

[Footnote 4: The refusal made by the Rector of St. Roch to admit into
that church the corpse of Mademoiselle CHAMEROI, has informed us in
England of the loss which this theatre has sustained in that young
and accomplished dancer. She died, generally regretted, in
consequence of being delivered of a child of which VESTRIS considered
himself as the real father. However, M. DE MARKOFF, the Russian
ambassador at Paris, stood sponsor to the infant, and, according to
the scandalous chronicle, was not contented with being only a
spiritual father. The Parisian public have consoled themselves for
this loss by talking a great deal about the scene to which it gave
rise. It seems that the Rector was decidedly in the wrong, the
dancers of the opera never having been comprised in the papal
excommunication which involved players. The persons composing the
funeral procession were also in the wrong to go to St. Roch, since
the Rector had positively declared that the corpse of Mademoiselle
CHAMEROI should not enter the church.]



LETTER XLIII.

_Paris, January 1, 1802._

Fast locked in the arms of Morpheus, and not dreaming of what was to
happen, as Lord North said, when the king caused him to be awakened,
in the dead of the night, to deliver up the seals, so was I roused
this morning by a message from an amiable French lady of my
acquaintance, requesting me to send her some _bonbons_. "_Bonbons_!"
exclaimed I, "in the name of wonder, Rosalie, is your mistress so
childishly impatient as to send you trailing through the snow, on
purpose to remind me that I promised to replenish her
_bonbonnière_?"--"Not exactly so, Monsieur," replied the _femme de
chambre_, "Madame was willing to be the first to wish you a happy new
year."--"A new year!" said I, "by the republican calendar, I thought
that the new year began on the 1st of Vendémiaire."--"Very true,"
answered she; "but, in spite of new laws, people adhere to old
customs; wherefore we celebrate the first of January."--"As to
celebrating the first of January, _à la bonne heure_, Rosalie,"
rejoined I, "I have no sort of objection; but I wish you had adhered
to some of your other old customs, and, above all, to your old hours.
I was not in bed till past six o'clock this morning, and now, you
wake me at eight with your congratulations."--"Never mind, Monsieur,"
said she, "you will soon drop asleep again; but my mistress hopes
that you will not fail to make one of her party on the _Fête des
Rois_."--"Good heaven!" exclaimed I again, "what, is a
counterrevolution at hand, that the _Fête des Rois_ must also be
celebrated?"--"'Tis," interrupted Rosalie, "only for the pleasure of
drawing for king and queen."--"Tell Madame," added I, "that I will
accept her invitation."--Dismissing the _soubrette_ with this
assurance, at the same time not forgetting to present her with a new
year's gift, she at once revealed the secret of her early visit, by
hinting to me that, among intimate friends, it was customary to give
_étrennes_. This, in plain English, implies nothing more nor less
than that I must likewise make her mistress a present, on the
principle, I suppose, that _les petits cadeaux entretiennent
l'amitié_.

My reflection then turned on the instability of this people. After
establishing a new division of time, they return to the old one, and
celebrate, as formerly, the first of January. Now, it is evident that
the former accords better with the order of nature, and that autumn
was the first season which followed the creation. Why else should
apples of irresistible ripeness and beauty have presented themselves
to the eye of our first parents in the garden of Eden? This would not
have been the case, had the world commenced in winter.

Besides, a multitude of advantages would accrue to the French from an
adherence to the 1st of Vendémiaire, or 23d of September of the
Gregorian calendar, as the first day of the year. The weather, after
the autumnal equinox, is generally settled, in consequence of the air
having been purified by the pre-existing gales, the ordinary
forerunners of that period: and the Parisians would not be obliged to
brave the rain, the wind, the cold, the frost, the snow, &c. in going
to wish a happy new year to their fathers, mothers, uncles, aunts,
cousins, and other relations. For to all this are they now exposed,
unless they choose to ruin themselves in coach-hire. The consequence
is that they are wet, cold, and dirty for two or three successive
days, and are sure to suffer by a sore throat, rheumatism, or fever,
all which entail the expensive attendance of the faculty; whereas,
did they celebrate the 23d of September as new year's day, they
might, in a quiet, unassuming manner, pay all their visits on foot,
and, in that season, this exercise would neither be prejudicial to
their purse nor their health.

I do not immediately recollect whether I have spoken to you of the
long-expected account of the French expedition to Egypt, by DENON:
yet I ought not to have omitted to inform you that, upwards of two
months ago, I set down your name for a copy of this splendid work. It
will cost you 360 francs; but you will have one of the proof
impressions. I have seen a specimen of the letter-press, which is to
consist of a folio volume, printed by Didot. The plates, amounting to
upwards of one hundred and forty in number, are entirely engraved
from DENON'S original drawings, without any reduction or enlargement,
with the exception of that representing the Battle of the Pyramids,
the size of which has been increased at the express desire of
BONAPARTE. I have often amused myself on a morning in contemplating
these drawings; but the crowd of curious persons being generally
great, I determined to seize the opportunity of examining them more
at leisure to-day, when the French are entirely engaged in
interchanging the compliments of the season. I found DENON himself
diligently employed on some of the engravings; and so anxious is he
for the publication of the work, that he toils early and late to
forward its appearance.

Notwithstanding the anxiety he feels on that account, this estimable
artist takes a real pleasure in explaining the subject of his
drawings; and, by means of his obliging communications, I am now
become tolerably well acquainted with Egypt. What country, in fact,
has a better claim to fix attention than that which served as a
cradle to human knowledge, and the history of which goes back to the
first ages of the world; a country, where every thing seems to have
commenced? Laws, arts, sciences, and even fables, which derive their
origin from nature, whose attributes they immortalize, and which, at
a subsequent period, formed the ground-work of the ingenious fictions
of mythology.

What idea must we not conceive of the industry and civilization of a
people who erected those celebrated monuments, anterior to the annals
of history, to the accounts even of tradition, those pyramids which
have unalterably withstood all the ravages of time?

When we look back on the ancients, the Greeks and Romans almost
exclusively divide our attention. The former, it is true, carried
farther the love and the culture of the fine arts; while the latter
are more remarkable for the great traits of their character; though
both acquired that renown which mankind have so improperly attached
to the success of arms.

But, in allowing to Greece all the interest which she claims, in so
many respects, we cannot forget that she was originally peopled by
Egyptian colonies; that it was Egyptians who, in later times, carried
thither the knowledge of the arts, the most necessary and the most
indispensable to society; and that, at the epoch which preceded the
splendid days of Greece, it was also into Egypt that the sages went
to acquire that knowledge of a superior kind, which constituted their
glory, and rendered their country illustrious.

What keeps up a sort of rivalship between Greece and Egypt is that,
independently of the priority of knowledge, the former had the
eminent advantage of opening her arms to philosophy and the sciences,
which, forsaking their adoptive country, and not being able to
survive the loss of liberty, fled back to their natal soil, and
found, in the Museum of Alexandria, an asylum, which neither the
Lyceum, the Portico, nor the Academy, could longer afford them at
Athens. Thus, to the reign of the Ptolemies are we, unquestionably,
indebted for the preservation of the knowledge acquired by the
ancients.

Apropos, I forgot to mention to you that BERTHOLET, a Senator and
Member of the Institute, communicated to that society, in one of its
sittings last month, a letter from FOURIER, the geometrician, and
member of the late Institute of Egypt. This _savant_, in the
researches he made in Upper Egypt, discovered and delineated several
zodiacs, which, he says, fully confirm the theory of DUPUIS,
respecting the origin and antiquity of the figures of the zodiac. As
far back as the year 1781, DUPUIS published a memoir, since reprinted
in his large work, entitled _De l'Origine des Cultes_, in which he
presumes that the zodiac, such as it has been transmitted to us by
the Greeks, is of Egyptian origin, and that it goes back to fifteen
thousand years, at least, before the era of the French revolution.



LETTER XLIV.

_Paris, January 3, 1802._

An almost uninterrupted succession of wet weather has, of late,
precluded me from the regular enjoyment of a morning walk. But, with
the new year, we had a heavy fall of snow, which has since been
succeeded by a severe frost. I gladly availed myself of this
opportunity of taking exercise, and yesterday, after viewing the
skaiters in that part of the _Champs Elysées_ which had been
inundated, and is now frozen, I immediately proceeded to the

HÔTEL DES INVALIDES.

This majestic edifice was projected by Henry IV, and executed, by
order of Lewis XIV, after the designs of BRUANT, who laid the
foundation on the 30th of November, 1671. It is composed of five
courts, surrounded by buildings. The middle court is as large as all
the other four.

A spacious esplanade planted with trees, an outer court surrounded by
a wall newly-built, form the view towards the river, and lead to the
principal façade, which is twelve hundred feet in extent. This façade
has, within these few years, been entirely polished anew: the details
of sculpture have, perhaps, gained by the operation; but the
architecture has certainly lost that gloomy tint which gave to this
building a manly and respectable character. In the middle of this
façade, in the arched part above the great gate, was a bas-relief of
Lewis XIV on horseback.

This gate leads to the great court, which is decorated by two rows of
arcades, the one above the other, forming, on the two stories,
uniform galleries which give light to the apartments of the
circumference. The windows, which serve to light the upper apartments
of the façade, are remarkable from their being placed in cuirasses,
as those of the great court are in trophies of arms.

From this court, you enter the church, now called the _Temple of
Mars_. It is ornamented with the Corinthian order, and has the form
of a Greek cross. The pulpit no longer exists. The altar, which was
magnificently decorated, is likewise destroyed.

The chapels, to the number of six, were each ornamented by a cupola
painted in fresco, and statues in marble by the greatest masters,
which, after being left for some time exposed to the injuries of the
air in the court looking towards the country, are at length deposited
in the MUSEUM OF FRENCH MONUMENTS.

To the arches of this temple are suspended the standards and colours
taken from the enemy. Two British flags only contribute to augment
the number. The oldest of these trophies have been removed from
_Notre-Dame_. When they were formerly displayed in that cathedral, a
general, who was constantly victorious, was called by the people the
_upholsterer of Notre-Dame_; an energetic appellation which spoke
home to the feelings. But, however calculated these emblems of
victory may be to foster heroism in the mind of youth, and rekindle
valour in the heart of old age, what a subject of reflection do they
not afford to the philanthropist! How can he, in fact, contemplate
these different flags, without regretting the torrents of blood which
they have cost his fellow-creatures?

In this _Temple of Mars_ is erected the monument of TURENNE, whose
body, after various removals, was conveyed hither, in great pomp, on
the 1st of Vendémiaire, year IX (23d of September, 1800) conformably
to a decree of the Consuls, and immediately deposited in the inside
of this tomb.

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