Rachel (1887 British Edition)/Chapter 5

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Chapter V.

SUCCESS.


On the 18th August Jules Janin, the all-powerful critic of the Débats, came back from Italy. Accounts differ very considerably as to the first visit to the Théâtre Français after his return. Édouard Thierry tells us it was Ricourt who first persuaded him to go and see Rachel. Védel declares that he himself went and called on the great man, and begged him to do what he could for the young actress; while Véron says Janin was actually sitting in the Place Royale, when he, hearing he was there, rushed out, and, seizing hold of him, said:

"Why are you not in the theatre?"

"I detest Turkish baths."

"Then you don't know what is taking place?"

"No; what is it?"

"Duchesnois and Rancourt are arisen from the dead."

"For what purpose?"

"Follow me, and you can judge for yourself."

Whatever may be the true story, on the 4th September Janin saw Rachel in Les Horaces. The theatre was almost empty. The first two acts were received coldly; the love scene in the second act made no impression; the public were still indifferent and apathetic. Suddenly the passion of the actress broke forth:—

Que le courroux du ciel, allumé par mes vœux,
Fasse pleuvoir sur elle un déluge de feux.

The great critic was won: when the play was over he begged to go behind the scenes to be introduced to the young Camille. Her modesty and gentleness completed the charm. Janin had a column and a half to fill the next day; he devoted it to Rachel. It was one of those pétards, a tapageuse gaminerie which at that time exercised such a disproportionate influence on the Parisian public. He wrote in his dogmatic style:—

Let me tell you there exists at this moment, at the Théâtre Français, an unexpected victory, one of those triumphs of which a nation such as ours has reason to be proud. Those works of art, lost for so long, are at length given back to us. We possess the most marvellous actress (although only still a child) that this generation has seen on the stage. This actress is Mademoiselle Rachel. About a year ago she first appeared at the Gymnase, and I maintained then that she possessed talent of no common order, and that a great future lay before her. I was not believed; people said I exaggerated, and I alone was not strong enough to support this little girl on that stage. A few days after her first appearance the actress disappeared from the Gymnase, and I, perhaps, was the only person who had remembered her, when suddenly she reappears at the Théâtre Français in the great tragedies of Corneille, Racine, and Voltaire. Now she is listened to, encouraged, applauded. She has found the legitimate development of her precocious dramatic genius. It is nothing short of marvellous, this uneducated child, without art, without preparation of any kind, thus becoming the interpreter of our grand old tragedies! She blows their ashes into a flame by her genius and her energy; and, remember, she is small, ugly, with a narrow chest, an insignificant appearance, and common speech. Do not ask her who Tancrède, Horace. Hermione are, or about the Trojan war, or Pyrrhus, or Helen. She knows nothing; but she has that which is better than knowledge. She has that sudden illumination, which she throws around her; she grows ten inches taller on the stage; she raises her head and extends her chest; her eye brightens; she treads like a sovereign; her voice vibrates instinct with the passion that agitates her. Nothing grander can be conceived than this Camille. To my dying day I will hear that voice and see those tears. She is a priestess, a pythoness, this child of seventeen. The imprecation is the first revelation of Rachel's power. The storm raging in this grief-stricken breast is terrific. We tremble before it as before something superhuman—godlike.

This eloquent and enthusiastic article hardly produced the result that Rachel's friends had hoped for. The heat was still great; the fashionable Parisian world was absent, and, in consequence, the theatres deserted by the cultured and refined portion of society. The Jews crowded to see their young countrywoman act, and applauded to the echo; Véron and his clique mustered strong; but the occupants of the boxes and stalls were not there, and those it was whom Janin was determined to rouse.

It would be impossible for us to form any idea of the influence exercised by Janin at the time of which we write. Paris now-a-days teems with dramatic critics. If one is not favourable the next will be, and sooner or later the actor or actress possessing merit is sure to be heard; but in 1838 Janin held the sceptre of absolute power. By his brilliant, incisive, and generally correct analysis of what had taken place in the theatrical world during the week, he had gained the ear of the public, and his opinion was received with unquestioning docility.

By the end of September the audience to whom he wished to speak began to return. On the 23rd of that month Rachel acted the part of Hermione in Racine's play of Andromaque. On the next day she awoke to find herself famous. An article appeared in the Débats still more eulogistic in its description of her Hermione than of her Camille. This trumpet-blast had the desired effect. The name of the little Jewish girl, Rachel Félix, was ou everyone's lips, and Paris, awakened out of her lethargy, had but one thought, the progress and development of the genius that had been discovered in her midst—one pre-occupation, the past history, and every detail concerning the private and public life of this cigale du café transformée en Melpomène.

Janin took a great deal of the credit to himself, in later days, of having made Rachel famous—"invented" her, in fact. It is impossible to deny that, until the appearance of these articles in the Débats, she had made no considerable stir in the artistic world, and it was not even until the second one that the great critic himself was listened to. He, perhaps, hastened the moment of her triumph, and, by giving the young girl opportunely the encouragement of praise and appreciation, helped her in her venturesome task. Still there is little doubt that, as the winter season approached, and the more critical audience of the Théâtre Français returned to their accustomed places, Rachel's genius would gradually have been appreciated.

On the 27th and 29th Rachel acted in Cinna, on the 3rd of October in Andromaque again, on the 5th and 9th in Racine's Mithridate as Monime, with an ever-increasing success, until at last popular enthusiasm knew no bounds. Védel gives an account of these early days of Rachel's career in a pamphlet published in 1858, immediately after her death. On the 27th, the first time she appeared after the publication of Janin's second feuilleton, the Comédie Française was besieged by applicants for seats. It was only with difficulty they could be kept in order. The queues leading to the two box offices were often broken by the impatient throng outside. One extended on one side far beyond Chevet's shop, the other into the Rue St. Honoré. People waited two and three hours with feverish impatience for the opening of the ticket office, which shut again almost immediately, as most of the places had been previously sold. All this trouble and fatigue stimulated the curiosity of the public, and the same crowd appeared again next day. Her fame permeated not only Paris, but the provinces and abroad, and the receipts when she acted increased in the same ratio. On the evening of the 27th of September the money taken exceeded the previous day by a thousand francs; two days after, they were more than 4,000 francs; a fortnight after, 6,000 francs, and for a long time they were never less than 5,000 francs, and that with nothing but classical plays. She proved that Corneille and Racine could be made to pay. It is, indeed, worthy of remark that during Rachel's engagement at the Français, classical plays were the most lucrative. As the saying was, on tragedy nights the box office clerks at the Théâtre Français wore a comedy expression, and on comedy nights a tragedy one.

After the performance of Monime in Mithridate, Rachel's sixth rôle at the Français, the Committee presented her with its first gift, consisting of all the plays in which she had appeared, each separately and splendidly bound, with her name and the date of her first performanoe in the part, inscribed in golden letters on the back; and soon after they added to this a gold circlet, set with precious stones. This heaping of benefits on one of their number soon aroused the jealousy of the other associates of the theatre, and recrimination and complaints assailed the director and disturbed the harmony of every meeting of the Committee.

The upholders of Rachel declared that she had saved the Théâtre Français from irretrievable ruin; from an average of six or seven hundred francs she had raised the receipts to six thousand, and had given back to the French stage the masterpieces of the classical drama. The net receipts for the month of October had amounted to one hundred thousand francs; the increase in the profits of the theatre had risen from sixty-five to seventy thousand francs. Though a large portion of the harvest thus made went into the pockets of the sociétaires; the latter were not the less disposed to find fault with the management, whom they accused of sacrificing the future prospects of the theatre to a momentary fancy on the part of the public. They urged that they would have to pay the price of the prosperity Rachel brought them; that she and her parents would soon put forward the most enormous claims; that the present large profits only meant ruin in the future; and that the precedent of thus exalting one member of the company would be disastrous in its results. Events soon proved the correctness of their plea.

Finding that Rachel's name invariably meant a house worth six thousand francs, the management felt it was impossible to leave the young girl's salary at four thousand francs, the sum originally agreed upon, and at the end of the month of October, before she asked for an increase, the sum was doubled, and a few weeks later a monthly gratification added, which gave her an income of twenty thousand francs a year.

This was more than had ever been paid to any actress before. The large salaries now given were then unknown, and these terms seemed to the Committee liberal enough to meet all the exigencies of the situation; but much more was soon demanded. Rachel being a minor, the negotiations were conducted by her father, and his avarice and rapacity justified the prognostications of the sociétaires.

"This first demand for his daughter," Madame de B—— tells us, "was an increase of salary, raising it to twelve thousand francs per annum—the sum received by a Councillor of State. He then, in addition to the fixed salary of twelve thousand francs, demanded from three hundred to five hundred francs perquisites (feux) each time she played, according as the receipts of the theatre varied from four thousand to five thousand francs and upwards; the title of Sociétaire, with a full share, with twelve thousand francs from the subvention, and four months congé every year. The whole claim might be computed at from fifty to sixty thousand francs a year."

The managers were thunderstruck; a portion of the press sided against Rachel, and Jules Janin declared that he, who had "created" her, would destroy his own "pen work," and relegate her to the obscurity from which he had raised her. He chose to make a personal question of her fight with the Théâtre Français. Here was the little girl whom he had made famous, daring, without his advice or permission, to set forth claims which were untenable and preposterous. The great critic had hitherto been justified, by results, in saying that he could make or unmake any actor or actress on the Parisian stage. Though despotic he was not mercenary. Unlike many of his fraternity, no bribe was ever accepted by him, and no "chicken and champagne" influenced his praise or blame, but he expected due deference to be paid to his position and power, and revenged himself unscrupulously on those who did not pay court to him. An amusing instance of this is given in Fechter's life. Janin invited Fechter to come and see him. The independent actor did not do so. The feuilleton that followed the réprise of Les Horaces and Le Menteur, in which Fechter was to have appeared, but which he threw up, contained a savage onslaught on Curiace and Dorante. The actor had the critic in his power, but simply wrote the following private note:—

Dear Janin,

Your criticism is excellent: true in every particular, except in attributing the acting of Curiace and Dorante to me. I performed in neither part!

In the next week's issue the impartial critic stated that, owing to gross carelessness, his manuscript had been misprinted; his remarks on the subject of M. Fechter were intended for his rehearsal, and not for the performance, in which other artists had appeared. It was quite evident from this second statement that Janin meant war to the knife, so Fechter returned the blow by publicly stating that, as he had never rehearsed the parts, the explanation could hardly be called satisfactory. After this terrible and justifiable exposé, what was left for Janin but silence? And silence was his enduring revenge.

Since first this all-powerful despot had espoused her cause, all had gone well with Rachel; but now she, or, rather, her father in her person, had offended him by acting without his advice, and by flagrantly infringing upon the interests of those who were associated with her. She was destined, therefore, to receive the first rebuff in her artistic career, to feel the first check of disapprobation which, a few years later, secure of her authority, the great tragedian would have treated with indifference, but which now seemed to her of exaggerated importance. The moment to test her true power over that public which, her detractors declared, had only been brought to her feet by a clique of critics and the partiality of her co-religionists the Jews, had come at last.