Later Queens of the French Stage

by H. Noel Williams

In this engraving one sees an old woman lying on a pallet in a barn, and, advancing towards her, a lady wearing a hood, followed by a troupe of Cupids, bearing bread, soup, and wine.

The ballerina’s liberality was far from being confined to the poor. Her purse was open to all, no matter how little claim they might have upon her. Struggling tradesmen in the grasp of usurers, clerks out of employment, and even gamblers unable to discharge their obligations came to knock at the door of her hôtel, and few went empty away. Once, an officer came to ask for the loan of a hundred louis, wherewith to pay a debt of honour, and offered to sign a document in acknowledgment. “Monsieur,” replied Mlle. Guimard, “your word is quite enough for me. I imagine that an officer will have at least as much honour as an Opera-girl.”

Her house at Pantin did not long content Mlle. Guimard; and she, accordingly, conceived the idea of building herself an hôtel in Paris; not an ordinary hôtel, be it understood, but a veritable palace, a palace such as no divinity of the stage had ever before inhabited, save in her dreams. The will of the danseuse was law to her adorers; the prince, the bishop, and the farmer-general hastened to disgorge the necessary funds, and the “Temple of Terpsichore,” as it was called by the Parisians, began to rise. The site chosen was in the Rue de la Chaussée-d’Antin, not far from the spot where stood the hôtel of a rival courtesan, Mlle. Dervieux. Le Doux, the architect of Madame du Barry’s pavilion at Louveciennes, drew up the plans.

A charming coloured sketch, in imitation of a water-colour of the time, has preserved to us the appearance of the hôtel of Mlle. Guimard. The porch is adorned by four columns, above which is an isolated group, in Conflans stone, 6 ft. in proportion, representing Terpsichore being crowned by Apollo. This was the work of the sculptor Le Comte, who is also responsible for a beautiful bas-relief, 22 ft. in length, and 4 ft. in height, where he has executed the triumph of the Muse of dancing, who is shown seated in a chariot, drawn by Cupids, preceded by Bacchantes and Fauns, and followed by the Graces of choregraphy.

Two little windows enable us to obtain a glimpse of the interior. One shows us the ante-chamber and the salle-à-manger, the latter of which is decorated with vases of gushing water, borne by groups of Naiads. The other introduces us into the theatre, an imitation in miniature of the salle at Versailles, with a ceiling painted by Taravel, and accommodation for five hundred spectators.[81]

This little palace, built and embellished under the supervision of the adoring La Borde, was a jewel of architecture, a marvel of decorative taste. “Picture to yourself,” says a brochure of the time, “picture to yourself the happy and most brilliant assemblage of all the arts: they meet here to surpass themselves.

“The exterior is charming. The intention of the architect has been to represent the Temple of Terpsichore in the façade of the entrance side; it would have been impossible to be more successful.

“In a little space, this delightful residence offers every conceivable advantage and charm, and what is not presented by truth is supplied by prestige. There is nothing, even to the garden, which does not charm and astonish by its wholly novel taste. The apartments seem to owe their different charms to magic; riches without confusion, gallantry without indecorum; they show us the interior of the Palace of Love, embellished by the Graces. The bedchamber invites repose; the salon, pleasure; the salle-à-manger, gaiety; the forms are ingenious, without, however, there being any recourse to the extravagance of contrast, which is so often abused. A hothouse in the interior of the apartment takes the place in the winter of a garden; it is furnished with a similar taste.[82] The design is soft, without injury to the effect; the trellis is in accordance with the best architectural taste; the arabesques have nothing fantastic about them; the execution of all these different marvels appears to be the work of the same hand. Delicious harmony, which puts the comble upon the reputation of the architect, since it proves him to have recognised the importance of the choice of the artists who have seconded his efforts, and the importance of impressing them with his own ideas. We find here a little ballroom, whose style of decoration renders it enchanting and perhaps unique. One finds also a miniature theatre, which may be regarded as a chef-d’œuvre of its kind....”[83]

Two interesting anecdotes, both relating to famous painters of the eighteenth century, attach to the adornment of the “Temple of Terpsichore.” Mlle. Guimard often came to visit her palace and supervise the decorations of the interior. One day, she remarked a young artist who was painting the arabesques on the walls, and, observing that he seemed sad and dispirited, questioned him and learned that he was studying under Vien, but that poverty compelled him to earn his bread by undertaking commissions of this kind, and prevented him from devoting himself to the studies necessary to enable him to compete with success for the Prix de Rome. The kind heart of the danseuse was touched by the young man’s story; she immediately told him to abandon his work in the Chaussée-d’Antin and return to his studies, and sent him each month two hundred livres for his expenses. Thanks to her generosity, Vien’s pupil was able to take full advantage of his master’s lessons, and, studying with unremitting ardour, carried off the coveted prize. This young artist was none other than Jacques Louis David, the painter of Socrates, Brutus, The Sabines, and Leonidas.

The other story relates to Fragonard. Fragonard had been chosen by Le Doux to paint the principal panel of the grand salon, a repetition in painting of the sculpture of the façade, that is to say, the representation of Mlle. Guimard as Terpsichore, and “surrounded by all the attributes which were able to characterise her in the most seducing manner.” The work was still unfinished, when a quarrel arose between the lady and the painter, which ended in the latter being sent away and the completion of the task entrusted to another artist. One day, curious to see how his work had fared in the hands of his successor, Fragonard found means to introduce himself into the house, and made his way to the salon without encountering any one. Here, the sight of a palette and colours gave him the idea of a very piquant revenge. In four strokes of the brush, he effaced the smile from the lips of Terpsichore, and imparted to them instead an expression of anger and fury, taking care, however, to make no other alterations in the portrait. This done, he took his departure as stealthily as he had entered.