Queens of the French Stage

t he had found in Paris four wonders: (1) The Tuileries. (2) The acting of the demoiselle Lecouvreur. (3) The dancing of the d

rse, and immortalised by Voltaire, was born at Brussels on April 10, 1710. On her father's side, she was descended from "one of the noblest families in Rome," which had given to the Church

ent enough to espouse a lady as high-born and as poor as himself, who, in default of a dot, had presented him with seven pledges of her affection. He lived at Brussels, "on the crumbs which fell from the table of the Prince de Ligne,"

nimated, so gay, so perfectly harmonious that it was at once perceived that this virtuoso of six months would one day be one of the first danseuses in Europe."[102] The delighted M. de Cupis thenceforth devoted every moment he could spare to the instruction of his little daughter, and at the age of ten Marie-Anne danced so charmingly in the salons of Brussels, t

ISELLE

by JEAN RAOUX, in

gement. Marie-Anne wished to accept the offer; Rouen, ever since the days of Molière, had been regarded as the conservatoire of the Paris theatres; its playgoers were not only the most enthusiastic, but the most critical in France, and the actor, singer, or danseuse who was fortunate enough to secure their suffrages might reckon with certainty on a favourable recepti

e off the evil day a little longer. For a time, however, all went well; Marie-Anne's dancing delighted the critical Rouennais, even more than it had the indulgent Flemings, and the theatre was crowded every night w

d at their door, in the shape of Francine, who was about to become Director of the Paris Opera. The fame of the little prodigy h

igrated to Paris. Here she decided to abandon her patronymic in favour of that of her grandmother, w

performed every movement correctly, but with a brilliancy, a verve, a vivacity which far surpassed all her predecessors. "Never," says a contemporary writer, "had the auditorium resounded with such applause as that which greeted the débutante. Such was the enthusiasm of the public that nothing else was talked about but the you

have been her defects of face or figure, they did not interfere with her professional success. "The moment she began to dance people forgot her face. Besides, no one had time to see whether she was ugly or beautiful, so light and rapid were her movements. Her skips and twirls bewildered the audience. Then her countenance was changed, transfigured. 'Then her

curtailed to a point which the most daring of her predecessors had never even dreamed of. This innovation was extremely popular

te the shortened skirts. The Molinists, on the contrary, maintained that this innovation brought us nearer to the spirit of the primitive Church, which objected to seeing pirouettes and gargouillades hampered by the length of the petticoats. The Sorbonne of the Opera held a great many sittings before it could decide which of the contending parties adhered to the orthodox

ndant une bonne minute au moins." There was considerable difference of opinion, Grimm tells us, as to whether Mlle. de Camargo conformed to this order, which would have interfered with her freedom of movement, and bets were freely made on the subject. But when, in order to decide thes

ather more than friendly interest. Perceiving that to attempt to eclipse her on the stage would only be to court certain defeat, she had recourse to intrigue. She refused to continue the lessons by which, she considered, the girl had already too greatly profited; she relegated her to s

gar crowd of filles d'Opéra" for the rest of her days, had not a fortunate accident enabled her to assert her su

some reason, did not appear. Mlle. de Camargo saved the situation. Leaving the other figurantes, she sprang to the middle of the stage, improvised the step of the absent Dumoulin, and danced so magnificently as to send all the s

w danseuse named Camargo, whom the public idolise, and whose great merit is youth and vigour. I doubt whether you have seen her. Mlle. Prévost protected her at first, but Blondi has fallen in love with her, and she is

the abyss of oblivion minuet, saraband, and courant, and replaced by rapidity, agility, and lightness all the antics that had been admired before her time, but which appeared no longer endurable once one had seen her."[106] Yet she owed much to her teachers-to Mlle. Prévost, to Blondi, and to Dupré-and the style of dancing which she now brought into fashion seems to have been a combination of all that was best in their different methods, joined to a vivacity and piquancy entirely her own. She excelled in gavottes, rigaudons, and in

sed by the wife of Maréchal de Villars, who engaged her in conversation "for a good quarter of an hour." Meanwhile, all who happened to be promenading in the gardens flocked to the spot, form

d into the wings, than she became "melancholy and even sad," while her countenance was "expressive of the most profound ennui." To her colleagues she seldom spoke, unless they happened to address her, when she responded with dignified courtesy, as became the collateral desce

one, perceiving that their efforts were fruitless, had retired from the field. The exception was Jean Alexandre Théodose, Comte de Melun, who loved the lady with a passion which no rebuffs could extinguish, no difficulties subdue. His persistence was rewarded; Mlle. de Camargo took pity upon him, and granted him a rendezvous, which was followed by others; and, fin

SELLE D

CRET, in the Wallace Col

nsidered, justified an appeal for redress to the very highest authority in the land, and, sitting down at

NCE, MONSEIGN

FLE

inal with the title of Saint-John ante Portam Latinam, doyen of the Sacred College, in the year 1577, under the pontificate of Leo X., and finding himself deprived of means, by the misfortunes, the lawsuits, and the ravages of war which his fathers had experienced, he avoided with more ca

, and to instruct them in those liberal arts which might enable them, without derogating from their birth, to supply the needs of life and escape from want, while awaiting more prosp

e great talents of the elder, could not refuse his consent to their entering the Opera, although on condition that either he or his wife should conduct them thither, and, in like manner, resume charge of them

to his daughter's dishonour, in return for which he offered to surrender to him the salary which she received at the Opera. The petitioner, having treated such a proposition as it deserved, the count found means to introduce himself, o

r had been a private individual; and the laws established by his Majesty and his august predecessors provide that abduction sh

se to the maker of the laws, and trusts that the King in his bounty will see that he has justice, and will com

make reparation for so t

ignant father, the elder sister, whom the rules of the Opera emancipated from parental control, remained at the Comte de Melun's h?tel. That nobleman, however, did not long enjoy a monop

de Sourdis, for whom Mlle. de Camargo is said to have conceived "une belle passion." The marquis's predilection for the ladies of the Opera had already made serious inroads on his patrimony; but this did not pr

d destined for the Church, or, more strictly speaking, for the emoluments thereof, he had been tonsured in infancy and loaded with benefices. Before he had completed his eighth year, he found himself in possession of the reven

every day"; now regulating the affairs of one of his abbeys, now scandalising the devout by some liaison with Opera girl or courtesan, anon distinguishing himself in battle; witty, affable, g

; while Clermont experienced but little difficulty in persuading his nephew, the Prince de Conti, a promising young gentleman of seventeen, to take Mlle. Quoniam off his hands. The latter arrangement led to much unpleasantness in high circles, for the Prince de Conti had two years before taken unto himself a wife, in the person of Mlle. de Chartres, daughter of the late Regent and sister of the devout Duc d'Orléans. The duke and his mother, the dowager-duchess, were furious, and it was rumoured that they had obtained a lettre de cachet, in virtue of which Mlle. Quoniam had been spirited away to a con

bon, having promised to settle the claims of some of his most clamorous creditors, the count instructed his steward, Moncrif, the Academician, to make out a statement showing a total liability of 80,000 livres, whereas the debts in question did not amount to much more than half that sum. The balance he was to remit to Mlle. de C

ng the Opera, to the despair of all Paris. If we are to credit a report drawn up many years later by the Police-Inspector Meusnier, for the edification of Madame de Pompadour, "his passi

hateauroux to Louis XV., who, some years later, conferred it on his mistress, Madame de la Tournelle. Deeming, however, that, under the circumstances, some concession to public opinion might be advisable, he counterfeited a fit of devotion, separated from his mistress, who, on a sudden, disappeared from Paris, and caused a report to be circulated that she had been imprisoned by order of the King in Sainte-Pélagie. No soon

ation for the statement that she was in the habit of dancing "pour la plus grande joie des moines ravis,"[112] as the chateau was the private residence of the abbot, to which his

Le Duc was the property of Président de Rieux, son of the celebrated financier, Samuel Bernard, who, having purchased the lady's affections at a great price, was naturally reluctant to surrender them. To oppose himself to a Prince of the Blood in an affair of such importance was

plan of campaign: he would invite Mlle. de Camargo to occupy the vacant place in his affections, and surround her with such luxury, array her in such toilettes, load her with such presents as would cause Mlle. Le Duc to die of envy, and her monkish lover to gnaw his fingers with vexation.

ft, and hastened to accept the challenge. In the

all the chains of silver, drawn by six ponies no bigger than dogs, ridden by a little postilion and a little hussar, the first in a red waistcoat all galooned with silver, and w

int-Germain, to flatter the vanity of the Le Duc, who occupies the post of hi

of blue and silver; she had for companions in her calèche her sister and the Cartou.[115] A number of othe

in calèches, formed a procession in the rear of this troupe

ermont have not been wanting, and the King has int

which has been comp

"

PH OF

eatre of

LE. L

tation given on Holy

Theatre will b

the latter making the ballerina a present of 40,000 crowns out of what was left of his fortune. After this adventure, according to the report drawn up by Meusnier, of which we have already spoken, Mlle. de Camargo's old inclination for the Marquis de Sourdis revived a

urned to the Opera, where she, of cour

forte en sa

Camargo

e the applause of the public and the praises of the poets. Mlle. Sallé's style of dancing differed widely from that of her celebrated rival. Whereas the latter danced with astonishing rapidity and rose s

understanding proved fruitless, although Voltaire himself intervened, and addressed to

, que vous ê

grands dieux!

légers, et que le

table et vous

s sautent

es dansent

An air to which she danced in the first act of Pyramé et Thisbé excited such enthusiasm that it became the vogue of the salons, first,

in an opera called Les Talents lyriques, she accordingly made her début as a singer. She had a

lle. de Camargo decided to retire, and, at Easter 1751, quitted the scene of her many triumphs, never to return. Her popularity had en

as, more prudent than most of her colleagues, she had found secure investments for a considerable portion of the sums which her various admirers had lavished upon her; while, if Meusnie

efrayed," after which we hear no more of her until the chroniclers record her death, which took place on April 28, 1770, at the age of sixty. She was then living in the Rue Saint-Honoré, "like a respectable bourgeo

s portrait, with a marked variation in the colour scheme, is in the Museum at Nantes. The Neues Palais at Potsdam contains another portrait