The Paris Sketch Book of Mr. M. A. TitmarshThackeray, William Makepeace
General
The Paris Sketch Book of Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Thackeray, William Makepeace
Paris (France) -- Description and travel
A play was written, some twenty years since, called the “Auberge des
Adrets,” in which the characters of two robbers escaped from the
galleys were introduced—Robert Macaire, the clever rogue above
mentioned, and Bertrand, the stupid rogue, his friend, accomplice,
butt, and scapegoat, on all occasions of danger. It is needless to
describe the play—a witless performance enough, of which the joke was
Macaire’s exaggerated style of conversation, a farrago of all sorts of
high-flown sentiments such as the French love to indulge in—contrasted
with his actions, which were philosophically unscrupulous, and his
appearance, which was most picturesquely sordid. The play had been
acted, we believe, and forgotten, when a very clever actor, M.
Frederick Lemaitre, took upon himself the performance of the character
of Robert Macaire, and looked, spoke, and acted it to such admirable
perfection, that the whole town rung with applauses of the performance,
and the caricaturists delighted to copy his singular figure and
costume. M. Robert Macaire appears in a most picturesque green coat,
with a variety of rents and patches, a pair of crimson pantaloons
ornamented in the same way, enormous whiskers and ringlets, an enormous
stock and shirt-frill, as dirty and ragged as stock and shirt-frill can
be, the relic of a hat very gayly cocked over one eye, and a patch to
take away somewhat from the brightness of the other—these are the
principal pièces of his costume—a snuff-box like a creaking
warming-pan, a handkerchief hanging together by a miracle, and a switch
of about the thickness of a man’s thigh, formed the ornaments of this
exquisite personage. He is a compound of Fielding’s “Blueskin” and
Goldsmith’s “Beau Tibbs.” He has the dirt and dandyism of the one, with
the ferocity of the other: sometimes he is made to swindle, but where
he can get a shilling more, M. Macaire will murder without scruple: he
performs one and the other act (or any in the scale between them) with
a similar bland imperturbability, and accompanies his actions with such
philosophical remarks as may be expected from a person of his talents,
his energies, his amiable life and character.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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