Later Queens of the French Stage

by H. Noel Williams

The play was a success, a result largely due to Mlle. Contat’s admirable impersonation of the heroine, the courtesan Rosalie, for more than one of the situations was decidedly “risky,” while the fact that Sophanès, the villain of the piece—and a particularly odious villain—was a philosopher and man of letters by no means commended itself to many of the habitués of the pit.[147]

“Mlle. Contat,” wrote Grimm, “secured in the part of Rosalie a success which she had never yet obtained. The situation in the second act appeared to be carried a little further than stage decorum seems to permit of. But the situation is material to the plot, and, thanks to the charming figure of the heroine, it would have been difficult not to accord indulgence to the tableau. Moreover, it was tolerated, though not without some murmuring.”

From the performance of this comedy we may date the opening of Louise Contat’s theatrical career. In the following December, she secured another triumph as the heroine of Dubuisson’s Vieux Garçon, and Grimm wrote: “Mlle. Contat who makes every day fresh progress, appeared charming in the part of Sophie. At Easter 1783, on the retirement of the accomplished and virtuous Mlle. d’Oligny, the object of the eulogy of Fréron which excited Mlle. Clairon to so much indignation,[148] she succeeded to her emploi,” and secured daily fresh successes.[149]

But it was in the part of Suzanne in Beaumarchais’s immortal comedy, Le Mariage de Figaro, that Louise Contat was to attain celebrity. This play had been completed in 1781; but to write it was one thing, to get it produced was quite another. Louis XVI. read the manuscript himself and, though his political insight was none of the keenest, could not fail to recognise its dangerous tendencies. He pronounced it “detestable” and “unactable,” and, for more than two years, no argument could induce him to permit its being performed. It was in vain that Beaumarchais stimulated public curiosity to fever heat by frequent readings of his play, at his own house or in various fashionable salons. It was in vain that his friends at Court, headed by the Comte de Vaudreuil, one of the most prominent members of the Queen’s social circle,[150] allowed no opportunity to slip of extolling the merits of the work. The King remained adamant. Once indeed it seemed to the dramatist that the battle had all but been won. Thanks to the efforts of Vaudreuil, who had succeeded in gaining over Marie Antoinette to his side, the players suddenly received orders from Versailles to rehearse the play in secret for a private performance. Beaumarchais, after reading his piece to the assembled company, determined to consult Mlle. Contat as to the cast, the result being that Dazincourt was set down for Figaro, Molé for Almaviva, the same character which he had so successfully represented in the Barbier de Seville, Mlle. Sainval for the Countess, and pretty Mlle. Olivier for the Page; while Préville, who, conscious of failing memory and sprightliness, had refused the part of the Barber, contented himself with the comparatively unimportant rôle of Brid’oison. Finally, Mlle. Contat was entrusted with the all-important part of Suzanne, a choice which caused considerable astonishment, as, admirable though the young actress was as an amoureuse, she had never yet attempted anything of this kind. Mlle. Fanier, the senior soubrette, protested warmly against the nomination and claimed Suzanne for herself. But Beaumarchais, who had early recognised the high qualities of Mlle. Contat and had every confidence in her versatility, had from the first intended the part of the heroine for her, and would listen to no remonstrance. Nor had he any reason to regret his decision.

Everything being in readiness, it was decided that the performance should be given at the Théâtre des Menus-Plaisirs, where the Comte de Vaudreuil’s influence was paramount, on June 13, 1783. The interest it excited was intense. As the appointed hour drew near, the approaches to the theatre were blocked by hundreds of coaches; all the fashionable world seemed determined to be present. The consternation, therefore, may be imagined when a rumour began to spread that there would be no play that evening; that the King had forbidden the performance. At first, the gaily-dressed crowd was inclined to be incredulous. But a notice posted on the doors of the theatre confirmed the rumour, and sent them away, complaining bitterly of the “oppression” and “tyranny” of the King, who at the eleventh hour had sent orders, through his Minister of the Household, the Baron de Breteuil, prohibiting the representation of Le Mariage de Figaro under pain of disobedience, and, the next day, caused the players to be summoned before the Lieutenant of Police, when the prohibition was repeated in a form employed by the royal authority only on the gravest occasions.

But Beaumarchais was not the man to despair. He withdrew to London, ostensibly on commercial business, but really, no doubt, to be out of the way the while Vaudreuil solicited and obtained the King’s consent to the Mariage de Figaro being performed in the course of a fête which the count intended to give at his country-house at Gennevilliers. “The Comte d’Artois,” wrote the Duc de Fronsac to Beaumarchais from that place, “is coming to hunt here about the 18th (September), and the Duc de Polignac with his party to sup. Vaudreuil has consulted me as to giving them a play, as we have a capital room. I told him that he could not find a more charming one than the Mariage de Figaro. The King has given his consent, have we yours?”

Beaumarchais, on his return to Paris, duly gave his “consent,” but only on condition that the play should be re-examined. The royal veto, said he, had exposed his work to the charge of immorality, and until that stigma had been removed from it by a formal approbation, on no consideration would he allow it to be played. It was a masterly move, for while no censor would be likely to forbid an entertainment sanctioned by the King, the desired approbation, besides stimulating the curiosity of the public, would have the effect of covering his Majesty’s opposition to the piece with ridicule. One would have supposed that the authorities would have been sufficiently alert to detect the trap laid for them, but they walked into it without hesitation, and sent the manuscript to the historian Gaillard,[151] who reported to the Lieutenant of Police as follows:

“Allow me, Monsieur, to inform you of my opinion with regard to the comedy entitled La Folle Journée, ou le Mariage de Figaro. I have heard it read and read it myself with all the attention of which I am capable, and I confess that I see no danger in allowing it to be performed, when corrected in two places, and when some mots have been suppressed, of which a malicious abuse or a dangerous and wicked application might be made. The piece is a very gay one; but when the gaieties, although approaching what are called ‘gaudrioles,’ are not indecent, they amuse without doing harm. Gay people are not dangerous, and State troubles, conspiracies, assassinations, and all the horrors we read of in history of all ages show us that they have been conceived, ripened, and executed by reserved, sad, and sullen people. The piece is besides called La Folle Journée, and Figaro, the hero of that piece, is known in the comedy of the Barbier de Seville, of which this is a continuation, as one of those intriguers of the lower class, whose examples are not dangerous for any man of the world. Besides, I think that by raising objections to things of little importance, as if they were dangerous, a value is imparted to them which they themselves do not possess, and foolish or ill-natured people are inspired with a fear or suspicion of danger, which has no reality.”

Then, after having proposed two suppressions, one of the word “minister,” the other of a passage alluding to the judgment of Solomon, Gaillard concludes thus:

“This piece appears to be well written. The personages speak as they ought, according to their station, and I think it very likely to attract more spectators to the Comédie and, consequently, what it most requires—large receipts.”[152]