[Sidenote: AFFAIRS OF HONOUR AND LOVE.]

Jeliotte was one of the great favourites of fashionable Parisian society (at least, among the women); but Cha.s.se (also among the women) was one of the most admired men in France. Among other triumphs of the same kind, he had the honour of causing a duel between a Polish and a French lady, who fought with pistols in the Bois de Boulogne. The latter was wounded rather seriously, and on her recovery, was confined in a convent, while her adversary was ordered to quit France. During the little trouble which this affair caused in the polite world, Cha.s.se remained at home, reclining on a sofa after the manner of a delicate, sensitive woman who has had the misfortune to see two of her adorers risk their lives for her. In this style he received the visits of all who came to compliment him on his good luck. Louis XV. thought it worth while to send the Duke de Richelieu to tell him to put an end to his affectation.

"Explain to his Majesty," said Cha.s.se to the Duke, "that it is not my fault, but that of Providence, which has made me the most popular man in the kingdom."

"Let me tell you, c.o.xcomb, that you are only the third," said the Duke.

"I come next to the king."

It was indeed a fact that Madame de Polignac, and Madame de Nesle had already fought for the affection of the Duke de Richelieu, when Madame de Nesle received a wound in the shoulder.[39]

Sophie Arnould was a discovery made by the Princess of Modena at the Val de Grace, whither her royal highness had retired, according to the fashion of the time, to atone, during a portion of Lent, for the sins she had committed during the Carnival, and where she chanced to hear the young girl singing a vesper hymn. The Princess spoke of Mademoiselle Arnould's talents at the court, and, in spite of her mother's opposition, (the parents kept a lodging house somewhere in Paris) she was inscribed on the list of choristers at the king's chapel. Madame de Pompadour, already struck by the beauty of her eyes, which are said to have been enchantingly expressive, exclaimed when she heard her sing, "_Il y a la, de quoi faire une princesse._"

[Sidenote: SOPHIE ARNOULD.]

Sophie Arnould (a charming name, which the bearer thereof owed in part to her own good taste, and in no way to her G.o.dfathers and G.o.dmothers, who christened her Anne-Madeleine) made her _debut_ in the year 1757, at the age of thirteen. She wore a lilac dress, embroidered in silver. Her talent, combined with her wonderful beauty, ensured her immediate success, and before she had been on the stage a fortnight, all Paris was in love with her. When she was announced to sing, the doors of the Opera were besieged by such crowds that Freron declared he scarcely thought persons would give themselves so much trouble to enter into paradise.

The fascinating Sophie was as witty as she was beautiful, and her _mots_ (the most striking of which are quoted by M. A. Houssaye in his _Galerie du 18me. Siecle_), were repeated by all the fashionable poets and philosophers of Paris. Her suppers soon became celebrated, but her life of pleasure did not cause her to forget the Opera. She is said to have sung with "a limpid and melodious voice," and to have acted with "all the grace and sentiment of a practiced comedienne."[40] Garrick saw her when he was in Paris, and declared that she was the only actress on the French stage who had really touched his heart.[41]

As an instance of the effect her singing had upon the public, I may mention that in 1772, Mademoiselle Arnould refused to perform one evening, and made her appearance among the audience, saying that she had come to take a lesson of her rival, Mademoiselle Beaumesnil; that the minister, de la Vrilliere, instead of sending the capricious and facetious vocalist to For-l'Eveque, in accordance with the request of the directors, contented himself with reprimanding her; that a party was formed to hiss her violently the next night of her appearance, as a punishment for her impertinence; but that directly Sophie Arnould began to sing, the conspirators were disarmed, and instead of hissing, applauded her.

On the 1st of April, 1778, the day of Voltaire's coronation at the Comedie Francaise, all the most celebrated actresses in Paris went to compliment him. He returned their visits directly afterwards, and his conversation with Sophie Arnould at the opera, is said to have been a speaking duet of the most marvellous lightness and brilliancy.

When poor Sophie was getting old she continued to sing, and the Abbe Galiani said of her voice that it was "the finest asthma he had ever heard." This remark, however, belongs to the list of sharp things said during the Gluck and Piccinni contests, described at some length in the next chapter but one, and in which Sophie Arnould played an important part.

Mademoiselle Arnould's _mots_ seem to me, for the most part, not very susceptible of satisfactory translation. I will quote a few of them in Sophie's own language.

[Sidenote: SOPHIE ARNOULD.]

Of the celebrated dancer, Madeleine Guimard, concerning whom I shall have something to say a few pages further on, Sophie Arnould, reflecting on Madeleine's remarkable thinness, observed "_ce pet.i.t ver a soie devrait etre plus gras, elle ronge une si bonne feuille._"[42]

Sophie was born in the room where Admiral Coligny was a.s.sa.s.sinated, and where the d.u.c.h.ess de Montbazon lived for some time. "_Je suis venue au monde par une porte celebre_," she said.

One day, when a very dull work, Rameau's _Zoroastre_, was going to be played at the Academie, Beaumarchais, whose tedious drama _Les deux amis_ had just been brought out at the Comedie Francaise, remarked to Sophie Arnould that there would be no people at the opera that evening,

"_Je vous demande pardon_," was the reply, "_vos deux amis nous en enverront._"

Seeing the portraits of Sully and Choiseul on the same snuff-box, she exclaimed, "_C'est la recette et la depense._"

To a lady, whose beauty was her only recommendation, and who complained that so many men made love to her, she said, "_Eh ma chere il vous est si facile des les eloigner; vous n'avez qu'a parler._"

Sophie's affection for the Count de Lauragais, the most celebrated and, seemingly, the most agreeable of her admirers, is said to have lasted four years. This constancy was mutual, and the historians of the French Opera speak of it as something not only unique but inexplicable and almost miraculous. At last Mademoiselle Arnould, unwilling, perhaps, to appear too original, determined to break with the Count; the mode, however, of the rupture was by no means devoid of originality. One day, by Mademoiselle Arnould's orders, a carriage was sent to the Hotel de Lauragais, containing lace, ornaments, boxes of jewellery--and two children; everything in fact that she owed to the Count. The Countess was even more generous than Sophie. She accepted the children, and sent back the lace, the jewellery, and the carriage.

A little while afterwards the Count de Lauragais fell in love with a very pretty _debutante_ in the ballet department of the Opera. Sophie Arnould asked him how he was getting on with his new pa.s.sion. The Count confessed that he had not made much progress in her affections, and complained that he always found a certain knight of Malta in her apartments when he called upon her.

"You may well fear him," said Sophie, "_Il est la pour cha.s.ser les infideles._"

[Sidenote: SOPHIE ARNOULD.]

This certainly looks like a direct reproach of inconstancy, and from Sophie's sending the Count back all his presents, it is tolerably clear that she felt herself aggrieved. He was of a violently jealous disposition, though he had no cause for jealousy as far as Sophie was concerned. Indeed, she appears naturally to have been of a romantic disposition, and a tendency to romance though it may mislead a girl yet does not deprave her.

We shall meet with the charming Sophie again during the Gluck and Piccinni period, and once again when the revolution had invaded the Opera, and had ruined some of the chief operatic celebrities. During her last illness, in telling her confessor the unedifying story of her life, she had to speak of the jealous fury of the Count de Lauragais, whom she had really loved.[43]

"My poor child, how much you have suffered!" said the kind priest.

"_Ah! c'etait le bon temps! j'etait si malheureuse!_" exclaimed Sophie.

Sophie Arnould's rival and successor at the Opera was Mademoiselle Laguerre, who, if she had not the wit of Sophie, had considerably more than her prudence, and who died, leaving a fortune of about 180,000.

Among the celebrated French singers of the 18th century, Madame Favart must not be forgotten. This vocalist was for many years the glory and the chief support of the Opera Comique, which, in 1762, combined with the Comedie Italienne to form but one establishment. There was so much similarity in the styles of the performances at these two operatic theatres, that for seven years before the union was effected, the favourite piece at the one house was _La Serva Padrona_, at the other, _La Servante Maitresse_, that is to say, Pergolese's favourite work translated into French.

[Sidenote: MADAME FAVART.]

The history of the Opera in France during the latter half of the 18th century abounds in excellent anecdotes; and several very interesting ones are told of Marshal Saxe. This brave man was much loved by the beautiful women of his day. In M. Scribe's admirable play of _Adrienne Lecouvreur_, Maurice de Saxe is made to say, that whatever celebrity he may attain, his name will never be mentioned without recalling that of Adrienne Lecouvreur. Some genealogist, without affectation, ought to tell us how many persons ill.u.s.trious in the arts are descendants of Marshal Saxe, or of Adrienne Lecouvreur, or of both. It would be an interesting list, at the head of which the names of George Sand, and of Francur the mathematician, might figure. But I was about to say, that the mention of the great Maurice de Saxe recalled to me not only Adrienne Lecouvreur, but also the charming Fifine Desaigles, one of the fairest and most fascinating of _blondes_, the beautiful and talented Madame Favart, and a good many other theatrical fair ones. When the Marshal died, poor Fifine went into mourning for him, and wore black, even on the stage, for as many days as it appeared to her that his pa.s.sionate affection for her had lasted. It is uncertain whether or not the warrior's love for Madame Favart was returned. The Marshal said it was; the lady said it was not; the lady's husband said he didn't know.

The best story told about Marshal Saxe and Madame Favart, or rather Mademoiselle Chantilly, which was at that time her name, is one relating to her elopement with Favart from Maestricht, during the siege.

Mademoiselle Chantilly was a member of the operatic _troupe_ engaged by the Marshal to follow the army of Flanders,[44] and of which Favart was the director. Marshal Saxe became deeply enamoured of the young _prima donna_, and made proposals to her of a nature partly flattering, partly the reverse. Mademoiselle Chantilly, however, preferred Favart, and contrived to escape with him one dark and stormy night. Indeed, so tempestuous was it, that a bridge, which formed the communication between the main body of the army and a corps on the other side of the river, was carried away, leaving the detached regiments quite at the mercy of the enemy. The next morning an officer visited the Marshal in his tent, and found him in a state of great grief and agitation.

"It is a sad affair, no doubt," said the visitor; "but it can be remedied."

"Remedied!" exclaimed the distressed hero; "no; all hope is lost; I am in despair!"

The officer showed that the bridge might be repaired in such and such a manner; upon which, the great commander, whom no military disaster could depress, but who was now profoundly afflicted by the loss of a very charming singer, replied--

"Are you talking about the bridge? That can be mended in a couple of hours. I was thinking of Chantilly. Perfidious girl! she has deserted me!"

Among the historical persons who figured at the Academie Musique about the middle of the 18th century, we must not forget Charles Edward, who was taken prisoner there. The Duke de Biron had been ordered to see to his arrest, and on the evening of the 11th December, when it was known that he intended to visit the Opera, surrounded the building with twelve hundred guards as soon as the Young Pretender had entered it. The prince was taken to Vincennes, and kept there four days. He was then liberated, and expelled from France in accordance with the terms of the treaty of 1748, so humiliating to the French arms.

[Sidenote: CHARLES EDWARD AT THE ACADEMIE.]

The servants of the Young Pretender, and with them one of the retinue of the Princess de Talmont, whose antiquated charms had detained the Chevalier de St. Georges at Paris, were sent to the Bastille, upon which the princess wrote the following letter to M. de Maurepas:--

"The king, sir, has just covered himself with immortal glory by arresting Prince Edward. I have no doubt but that His Majesty will order a _Te Deum_ to be sung, to thank G.o.d for so brilliant a victory. But as Placide, my lacquey, taken in this memorable expedition, can add nothing to His Majesty's laurels, I beg you to send him back to me."

"The only Englishman the regiment of French guards has taken throughout the war!" exclaimed the Princess de Conti, when she heard of the arrest.

There was a curious literary apparition at the Academie in 1750, on the occasion of the revival of _Thetis et Pelee_, when Fontenelle, the author of the libretto of that opera, entered a box, and sat down just where he had taken his place sixty years before, on the first night of its production. The public, delighted, no doubt, to see that men could live so long, and get so much enjoyment out of life, applauded with enthusiasm.