M. LEGOUVE'S RECOLLECTIONS.* M. LEGOITV1 cannot be accused of unseemly
baste in sitting down to write his reminiscences, inasmuch as it was not until he was in his eightieth year that he entered upon the task. And inasmuch as he seems to have known nearly every one worth knowing in the artistic and literary world of Paris for the last sixty odd years, he may well have shrunk from the labour of delving amid so unmanageable a mass of materials. Happily for him, the task was greatly simplified by his desire to talk of others rather than himself. We learn very little of M. Legouve himself save indirectly,—so little, indeed, that it is worth while to remind English readers that the author of these pages was the son and grandson of two distinguished French littgrateure, whose fame he rather threw into the shade by his own superior accomplish- ments. His poem won the prize offered by the Academy in 1829, a success which he followed up by publishing several clever volumes of verse. He then essayed romance, but achieved his most signal triumph as a playwright. In collaboration with Scribe, he wrote for Rachel Adrienne Lecouvreur, a play which, even to-day, no tragic actress of any pretensions, from Signora Due downwards, can afford to omit from her repertory. His Medea, also written for Rachel, but discarded by her in a moment of pique, furnished Ristori with one of her favourite roles. Of his many other plays, it may suffice to mention La Bataille de Dames, in proof of his conspicuous success in dealing with lighter themes. As a public lecturer at the Academy—to which he was elected nearly forty years ago—and elsewhere, he enjoyed a reputa- tion inferior to none of his contemporaries. He has written voluminously on literature, ethics, art, and history, was in his day one of the best shots in France, though he never fought a duel, and constantly officiated as judge at assaults of arms.
Versatile, witty, and amiable, M. Legouve, in his long career, • Sixty Years of Recollectione. By M. Ernest Legonv6, of the Aeaddinte Erangnise, Translated, with Notes, by Albert D. Vandem, London Edon, Remington, and Co. seems to have found very few people with whom he could not get on. And this temper of his, admirable though it doubt- less is, detracts somewhat from the charm of his reminiscences. He speaks himself of his philosophical leniency; we should prefer to call it indiscriminate eulogy. Ever so little of the amari aliquid would be positivelyiweleome by way of a change from this continual suavity. There is plenty of sparkle in these pages, but it is the sparkle of very sweet champagne. When Berlioz, at the age of sixty, confesses his maudlin philanderings to M. Legouve, the latter is "deeply moved" by this grotesque spectacle, instead of telling Berlioz not to make a donkey of himself. Nay, more ; he tells us "how touched he is at the sight of this reputedly proud spirit, who becomes utterly forgetful of being a great artist, in order to remember only that he is an old man." This, let us add, when Berlioz had already buried two wives, and was now in love with a girl of twenty. Was there ever a more humiliating counter- blast to Cicero's "De Senectute"? But if there is too much of the flabby humanist in M. Legouve's estimates of his friends as men, nothing could be more admirable than his loyalty to the bygone heroes of the French literary world. He has no sympathy with the modern school of "transcendent disdain," and manfully combats the verdict which seeks to consign to oblivion such writers as B6ranger and Lamartine, Scribe and Casimir Delavigne. And here we may notice that M. Lego aye has a pet theory for explaining the lapse from popularity of these and other writers, which he develops with great ingenuity. It is that they were handicapped by their instru- ment. Thus, in the case of Lemercier, he argues that his genius was stifled by the rhetorical language and conven- tional art of his epoch, and similarly contends that had Bouilly's plays been written at a different period—that is, in a different style—they would have commanded a perma- nent place in the French repertory. But after all, true genius creates a style instead of accepting it,, and the inability of these authors to break through the fetters of convention only proves them to have been lacking in the indispensable attributes of supreme creative force.
In the opening chapters we get a number of interesting glimpses of various literary and artistic celebrities of the second and third decades of the century, of Dr. Gall and Talma, Mlle. Mars, and the other luminaries of the House of Moliere. The first full-length portrait, however, is that of Lemercier, who, whatever may be thought of his literary achievements, was at any rate a man of extraordinary and indomitable resolution. He was partially paralysed from childhood, but, like Lord Byron,, indulged in every sort of bodily exercise, was a daring horseman and an intrepid duel- list, and, in short, loved to confront and court danger on every possible opportunity. In the days of the Directory and the Consulate, he led a strange dual life of excess and study, exerted a considerable influence on Bonaparte, with whom he was on intimate terms—indeed, according to M. Legouve, it was Lemercier who persuaded Josephine to marry him—but severed his friendship on the establishment of the Empire. In this matter his attitude closely resembles that of Beet- hoven. To quote his own words, "It was Napoleon, and Napoleon alone, who disturbed my friendship with Bonaparte." When the Legion of Honour was instituted, one of the first crosses was offered to Lemercier ; but he declined it, and was "boycotted" in consequence as long as the Emperor lived. It was not personal hatred, but patriotic resentment, that animated Lemercier throughout this strange struggle. Of his readiness in retort, M. Legouve gives a remarkable instance. A bully, who tried to make him give up his seat at the theatre, said to him : "Do you know to whom you are speaking ? You are speaking to a man who brought back the standards from the Army of Italy."
That's very possible," replied Lemercier, "seeing that it was an ass which carried Christ." A duel followed, in which the cripple winged his man. Lemercier, we may add, would never accept author's fees for his works, spending all he earned in charity. The reason he gave for this is perhaps more memorable and creditable than anything he ever wrote. "I agree," he -said, "with Boileau, who said :— Qu'on pout sans crime
Tirer de see 6crits un profit 16gitime ;'
but as far as I am concerned, my pen would drop from my hand if, while at work, I had to reflect that this or that thought might bring me something. I should always be afraid to arrive at a state of mind in which thought and gain were convertible terms." Of MM. Andrieux and Ville- main, two life-secretaries of the Academy, both renowned for their wit and their ugliness, M. Legotiv6 has a good deal to tell us. The smart sayings of this pair were legion ; perhaps the best given by M. Legouv6 being M. Villemain's remark to a lady to whom, after his wont, he paid marked attention :— "You may adore me in all security, Madame," he said ; "no one will believe it." Villemain was evidently a French Wilkes. Then there are some delightful stories of Mlle.
Duchesnois, a famous but extraordinarily ignorant actress, who once remarked, after a long silence at a dinner-party at the house of M. Legouves father,—" That poor Henry IV., Monsieur Legouve ; to think that if Ravaillac had not killed him, he would perhaps be alive now ! " A whole chapter is devoted to Malibran, whom M. Legouve ranks along with Weber, Victor Hugo, and Alfred de Musset, as one of the hierophants of the romantic spirit. Of her fearlessness he gives two notable instances. He was with her the first time she ever went out on horseback, and tells us how in the course of her ride, after seeing one of the party jump a wide ditch, she put her horse at the obstacle and cleared it at the first attempt.
On another occasion she jumped into deep water in the Bay of Naples without being able to swim, in the serene confidence that her friends would not let her drown. "Her character," says M. Legouv6, "was a compound of modesty and con- fidence in herself." She was incapable of jealousy towards her rivals, and had a profound belief in the superior genius of her younger sister, though the latter was only fifteen at the date of Malibran's death. It is worth recording, on the authority of M. LegouvC, that Malibran, though the very incarnation of vitality, was constantly oppressed by the con- viction that she would die young. In a letter to him, written five years before her death, she apologises for indulging in "cadaverous ideas," adding, "death stalks at their head ; he will soon strike at mine." M. Legonve's reminiscences of Berlioz are interesting but painful. Of Lablache, his recol- lections are entirely in keeping with all that has been written by others of that genial colossus. "Lablache," he writes, "when dying, summed up in one phrase the characteristics of that delightful Italian art [the bel canto]. His daughter was standing by his bedside ; he opened his mouth to speak to her —the sound died away on his lips 'Oh,' he murmured, non ho voce, more' (My voice is gone, I am dying)." Of Chopin, one anecdote deserves to be recorded. He mistrusted Liszt, says M. Legouvo, though without due cause, for when M. Legouv6 congratulated him in advance on an article that Liszt had undertaken to write on his concert, adding, "I feel certain that he will map you out a magnificent kingdom ;" Chopin replied :—" Yes ; a magnificent kingdom within his empire." The successive phases of Eugene Sue's literary career are traced in a very remarkable chapter. He was, says M. Legouv6, "an amateur of genius with an in- describable fund of the Paris guttei-snipe about him." As to his method, he had none. "When he commenced to write a novel, he practically took a ticket in a lottery. It was not he who governed his pen, it was his pen that carried him along with it." His best situations were after-thoughts, or the result of sheer accident. Vicious and unprincipled, he nevertheless had some good qualities. He had a modest opinion of his literary abilities, and he was charitable, devoting a part of the proceeds of his work to the alleviation of the sufferings of the poor.
Space fails us, or we should have liked to dwell on the interesting chapters in which M. Legouve describes his collaborators and interpreters,—Scribe and Goubaux, Rachel and Mlle. Mars, Firmin, Geffroy and Joanny. There is also a charming picture of Ohr6tien Urhan, an ascetic musician, who reconciled his religion with his art by the quaintest of compromises. He was first-violin at the Opera, and he salved his conscience by a vow never to look at the stage. Even when he was accompanying a ballerina in a pas seul, he always kept his back turned to the performer. The best portrait in the book is that of Wronger, and it is quite a masterpiece. M. Legouv6 analyses the secret of the extra- ordinary influence that this "mere writer of songs" exerted over the most powerful intellects of his time, and ascribes it to his innate kindness, his marvellous common-sense, and the pungency and sagacity of his conversation. His two great weaknesses were poor folk and young folk. In proof of his generous encouragement of young authors, M. Legouve quotes from the admirably candid yet sympathetic letters which he himself received from B6ranger at the outset of his career.
From the last of these letters we may quote the following passage :— "Well, my dear lad, go on pursuing glory; it is a mirage which comes to us from the middle of the wilderness ; take care it does not drag you thither. There is only one way open to you to avoid such misfortune ; try to be useful. That is the law God imposes on every man ; in literature the law becomes more stringent than ever. Do not imitate those who are content with art for art's sake ; try to find out whether there does not exist within yourself some creed of humanity or patriotism on which you may hang your efforts and your thoughts.'" It only remains for us to say that Mr. Vandam is responsible for a translation which, if it does not reproduce the easy felicity of the original, is at any rate fairly workmanlike and intelligible. But as an editor Mr. Vandam is not invariably satisfactory. In the heading to one chapter we find an entry which refers to an anecdote given by Mr. Vandam in a note; while in another chapter a whole paragraph is inserted in the text which should have been printed as a foot-note. Still, with all its defects, this translation is a more creditable achieve- ment than the editing of An Englishman in Paris.
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