THE COMEDIE FRANCAISE.
FEAR is often expressed that the cultivation of art as an end in itself is a thing of the past. Some reproach the artists with having allowed the increased facility of living by their art to make them forget that they ought also to live for it. Some throw the blame on society, and complain that the intensity of the struggle for life in these days makes it impossible for the artist to do his work with a whole heart. But though the desponding ones contradict one another in the explanations they give of the supposed decadence, they agree in the main burden of their lamentation, crying aloud that the time is hopelessly gone when art commanded a true worship from her fol- lowers. The true artist works in a world governed by laws of its own; those laws he holds sacred, and he will not swerve from them for fear, favour, or gain. Formerly, even the pursuit of trade and skilled handicrafts partook in some measure of this sanctity of art ; now it would seem that the arts are dragged down to the vulgarity of trade. We do not ourselves take this desponding view as to any of the fine arts ; but we confine ourselves for the present to pointing out an exemplary proof now offered to us by the company of the Theatre Francais, for the first time in England, that one of those arts, and that not the least, can still be cul- tivated with a devotion and a success at least equal to those shown by its votaries in any former period. The drama is, no doubt, in unfavourable circumstances in Eng- land for the present ; but while such a company as that of the Theatre Francais exists, we cannot believe that the misfortune is in the nature of things irreparable. We do not know indeed how far the wilful perversity of English actors and audiences may not go. Our actors may for some time refuse, in spite of better example, to be aware that they are, for the most part, mere amateurs in their profession ; and our audiences may for some time persist in tolerating lame and inartistic performances of ill-constructed pieces. But we do hope that the lessons to be learnt from the performances of the first dramatic company of the world, which there is now a brief opportunity for seeing in London, will not be wholly lost on the English stage.
It may be worth while to explain that the company of the Comddie Francaise is very differently constituted from an ordi- nary theatrical company. This means with us a fortuitous assemblage collected by a manager or proprietor, who makes his own terms with each member, and whose taste or caprice, or that of the principal actor, are the only guarantees for the quality of the performances and their congruity with the capabilities of the performers. But the society we are now speaking of is no hired troop of players, but an ancient and solemnly constituted corpora- tion, in which the actors themselves are the shareholders, enjoying the special support of the State. What we should call the articles of association now in force are contained in a formal " Acte de Socidtd," dated the 27th of Germinal, 12th year of the Republic (the society itself is more than a century older) these were in some respects modified, and the relations of the Thatre Francais to the Government elaborately defined by a decree of the First Napoleon. This decree possesses great historical interest, even for those who do not care for the drama. It is dated the 15th of October 1812, from the Imperial head-quarters at Moscow, after the burning of the city, and only a few days before the commencement of the disastrous retreat. A few specimens of the provisions contained in these documents will serve to throw light on the position and importance of the society. There is a fixed and inalienable reserve fund set apart for pensions ; every actor, after twenty years' service, becomes entitled to a pension of 2,000 francs from the Com- pany, and an equal pension from the State, with a propor- tionate increase in case of longer service. The investment of surplus funds for the common benefit is carefully prescribed. A standing committee of legal advisers is appointed to assist the Company in litigation, and to arbitrate in case of internal differ- ences. And no pains have been spared to secure the command of artistic efficiency, so far as a written constitution can do it. The imperial decree of October 1812, gives power to suspend or annul all existing engagements of a successful debutant. A special department of the Conservatoire is charged with the training of a certain number of pupils to recruit the Theatre Francais. No new play can be admitted to representation till it has been read and approved by a committee of the veteran members of the Com- pany. By a later ordinance of the 30th of April 1850, the general manageme-`, of the enterprise was put in the hands of an officer appointed by the Minister of the Interior, who has to make a half-yearly report to him. The administrative committee of the Company may discuss this report and send in with it such remarks as they think fit to add. Our readers will perceive that Messieurs et Mesdames lea Comediens Francais, as they are styled in their Acte de Societe, hold a very different rank in public estimation from that of English actors. Can we imagine Mr. Bruce being expected to give his best attention twice a year to a theatrical report from Mr. Buekstone, garnished with comments by Mr. Chippendale?
The operations of the Theatre Francais had naturally been much interrupted during the last few months. During part of the siege of Paris the theatre itself was used as a hospital, and several members of the society devoted themselves with conspicuous zeal and success to the service of the wounded. Now they have under- taken a short series of performances in London, and are for this month established at the beautiful new house in the Strand some- what unhappily named Opera Comique. Such an opportunity has never before been given to London playgoers, and may never be given again. If the attempt we are about to make to convey in detail some of our impressions has the effect of inducing any reader to seize the chance before it is too late, the inadequacy of the attempt will be amply excused. It is difficult to choose any points for special remark where everything is perfect.
Perhaps the fact that most immediately strikes an English spectator is the absolute subordination of the individual actor to the purpose of the whole piece. The company works together with an entire harmony which is the fruit of a long dis- cipline in a school of pure and correct art. They have been trained in the single-minded devotion which refuses to see any derogation from the artist's worth in undertaking a piece of good work, how- ever small. M. Coquelin is we dare not say how far above any of the actors who fill the corresponding places on what calls itself the English stage ; yet M. Coquelin thinks it no scorn to take the part of an old servant who has little to do beyond laying the table and receiving his master's orders (in Le Dec Job), or a dancing-master who appears in only one scene (in II ne fact jurer de rice). In like manner M. Got, an actor of perfectly astounding power and versatility, plays now and then an inconsiderable part, or rather a part which would be inconsiderable in any other hands. The vir- tue next in conspicuousness which distinguishes this company as a whole is their admirable elocution. In England it is thought quite well enough, as a rule, to bring out a few telling points (when there are any points) in the dialogue, and slur over the rest ; nay, one has not to go far to seek actors who seem never to have learnt even the elementary precepts of opening the mouth for the vowels and clearly articulating the consonants. At the Theatre Francais no speech is considered too trivial to be well studied and well delivered, and it becomes a pleasure to listen to the mere utterance of the words. And though we cannot doubt that every syllable has been weighed, there is nothing strained or conven- tional in the speaking ; the actors are as natural and as much at ease as if the action of the play were a reality and the audience did not exist. As a signal triumph of com- bined naturalness and finish, we may mention M. Delatmay's acting in Le Menteur. With what never-failing grace and readi- ness he produces fiction after fiction from inexhaustible treasures of falsehood ! with what serene confidence in himself does he impose them without limit on all the world who do not know his secret, and even stagger the confidant who does ! what a nobility and refined quintessence of lying give a subtle charm to every movement and every feature ! It would have done Charles Lamb's heart good to see him. So again when the dialogue is in verse, there is no mouthing or laboured emphasis ; the speakers talk as fluently as if they had talked verse all their lives, and if there is any anxiety it is to avoid marking the rhymes obtrusively. This is a rather special tradition of the Comedic Francaise, and is mentioned by Mitford in his curious book on "Harmony in Language," published early in the present century.
Another of the circumstances which put the performances of the Thiatre Francais wholly out of comparison with anything we can see in an English playhouse is the quality of the material the actors have to work upon ; to name present or very recent writers alone, they have the plays of Emile Augier, of Octave Feuillet, of Alfred de Musset — perhaps the most finished and exquisite of all dramatic authors—and of Victor Hugo, whose genius, however unbridled, is doubtless greater than that of any living poet. It need hardly be said that none of our own modern writers for the stage come near any one of these. We had Shakespeare, but we have forgotten him ; the Theatre Francais has not forgotten Moliere. We have left ourselves but little space to speak in this article of the individual excellences of the actors whom co-operation produces such admirable results. M. Got, who for the present is acting as manager, claims our attention first. He is a very prince of comedians. If he were dumb he would still be a consummate actor. He speaks with every muscle of his face and every finger of his hands ; but why mention such commonplace organs of expression as hands and face, when he can be eloquent with the folds of the coat on his back as he walks up the stage? There cannot be a more really delicious piece of comedy than M. Got's impersonation in Ii ne faut jurer de rien of the obsequious abbe waiting on the humours of the baroness. His perplexed pause at the sud- den question "Avez-vous lu le Juif Errant ?" is a study in itself. There is a whole epic of conflict between the duty of censure and the desire of complaisance in his countenance ; and when his reluctant " Oui, Madame ; ii y a de fort belles choses, maia le fond, je vous l'avonerai "comes out it is quite irresistible. So is his confused exit in the same act, thrice repeated in different circumstances, and each time with a varied ludicrous- ness. Being a perfect comedian, M. Got has a tragic power in re- serve. This comes out in Le Duc Job, apiece which may without in- injustice be said to depend entirely on his exertions. Without M. Got we cannot imagine it as producing any great interest ; with him it is not to be forgotten. He shows a complete mastery of the most varied emotions in the most varied situations ; the troubles of a poor and proud soldier in his seemingly hopeless suit for his cousin, whose parents are bent on a splendid marriage, his affliction at the loss of his friend, his vain attempts at a forced self-possession, his affected levity in despair, his incredulous joy when fortune sud- denly turns in his favour,—all these and more are brought before our eyes with a truth and feeling to which no praise can do justice. Then there are M. Delaunay and M. Coquelin, of whom we think as a sort of double star ; both are admirable, M. Delaunay chiefly in impassioned, M. Coquelin chiefly in humor- ous characters ; and when they act together the qualities of both are seen side by side to perfection. However it is not to be supposed that either of them is restricted to a narrow range, or that they cannot produce effects of the highest order in their independent action. One of M. Delatmay's finest performances is in A. de Musset'a La Nuit d'Octobre, a lyrical dialogue between the poet and the muse. She finds him sunk in despair at broken faith, and at enmity with the world and himself, and summons him, now with the lofty command of a prophetess, now with the caressing tones of a mother, to rise from his solitary grief, and lose it in the high calling of his art. The gradual change of his mood under the influence of her words is worked out by M. Delaunay with wonderful perfection and delicacy. When we add to this that the Muse is Mlle. Favart, we have said that a most beautiful poem is interpreted by an actor and an actress who are both in the very first rank of their art. We cannot within our present limits further indicate what ought to be said of Mlle. Favart's performance in La Nuit d'Octobre, though it f ally merits a separate exposition. We must also defer the rest of our remarks as to her acting generally, and as to that of the other members of the company of whom we have not yet spoken in particular.
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