[2] Lettre à d'Alembert sur les spectacles.
[3] Lettre à d'Alembert stir les spectacles.
[CHAPTER VIII]
Thermometer of Social Crises—Interview with M. Thiers—His intentions with regard to the Théâtre-Français—Our conventions—Antony comes back to the rue de Richelieu—The Constitutionnel—Its leader against Romanticism in general, and against my drama in particular—Morality of the ancient theatre—Parallel between the Théâtre-Français and that of the Porte-Saint-Martin—First suspension of Antony
The last chapter ended with these words: "And the suspension of Antony." What suspension? my reader may, perhaps, ask: that ordered by M. Thiers? or the one confirmed by M. Duchâtel? or that which M. de Persigny had just ordered? Antony, as M. Lesur aptly put it, is an abnormal being—un monstre; it was created in one of those crises of extravagant emotion which ensue after revolutions, when that moral institution called the censorship had not yet had time to be settled and in working order; so that whenever society was being shaken to its foundations, Antony was played; but directly society was settled, and stocks went up and morality triumphed, Antony was suppressed. I had taken advantage of the moment when society was topsy-turvy to get Antony put on the stage, as I was wise; for, if I had not done so, the moral government which was crucified between the Cubières trial and the Praslin assassination would, most certainly, never have allowed the representation.
But Antony had been played thirty times; Antony had acclimatised itself; it had made its mark and done its worst, and there did not seem to be any reason to be anxious, until M. Thiers summoned me one morning to the Home Office. M. Thiers is a delightful man; I have known few more agreeable talkers and few listeners as intelligent. We had seen each other many times, and, furthermore, he and I understood one another, because "he was he and I was I."
"My dear poet," he said to me, "have you noticed something?"