Part Two

The Marais tennis court theatre: Adapting a Functional space

David Thomas

Part Two Images

As you’ve heard, the monopoly of the Confraternity of the Passion in Paris limited the business possibilities for other theatre companies, which made things difficult for any other companies seeking a permanent foothold in Paris. Nevertheless theatre was an increasingly popular art, and troupes who found success touring the French provinces developed the resourcefulness to survive—and thrive—in Paris.

In the early part of the century, some troupes rented the Hôtel de Bourgogne from the Confraternity for short periods. Others paid a fee to the Confraternity while performing elsewhere, and still others performed illegally. In 1629, a troupe of French actors did finally sign a lease to settle into the Hôtel de Bourgogne as their own theatrical home. They did not for long enjoy their monopoly over French-speaking theatre in Paris. Soon, a second troupe of actors settled in Paris. From then on, there would continuously be at least two competing professional, permanent theatre companies in Paris.

The first competing theatre to open in 1634 was the Théâtre du Marais, built in a converted indoor tennis court in the newly fashionable Marais area (not far from the Bastille) [SLIDE 1].

Indoor tennis, or real tennis, had been a popular game in Paris, particularly in the sixteenth century [SLIDE 2]. By the time the game’s popularity waned in the seventeenth century, there were many tennis courts in Paris. Quite a few of these were at least temporarily used as performance spaces.

Tennis courts were rectangular like the Hôtel de Bourgogne, but slightly narrower. They had openings at the top of the walls to let in light and air. They had gallery seats for spectators along one side or end. They had a flat and open floor space. To turn a tennis court into a theatre space, companies simply needed to add a raised platform, and convert the rest of the hall to provide additional seating [ANIMATION 1]. This could be done quite simply and cheaply for a short stay in the space, or it could be made a permanent architectural change if the acting troupe took over the court for a long period, like at the building that housed the Théâtre du Marais.

Two types of indoor tennis courts were built in the seventeenth century: the first was called a dedans court, with average external dimensions of 112 English feet in length by 42 feet in breadth; the second was called a quarré court, with average external dimensions of 106 feet in length by 42 feet in breadth [SLIDE 3]. I am not aware of any evidence indicating which type of court the Marais had been originally. And scholars are divided in their opinions as to the actual dimensions of the original tennis court, depending on how they interpret an architect’s survey of the building carried out in 1678.

In his survey of the Marais, the architect Garengeau stated that the external dimensions of, ‘the said Marais tennis court is seventeen toises, four pieds long by six toises wide from mid-point to mid-point of the party walls’. Seventeen toises, four pieds corresponds to a measurement of 113 feet and six toises corresponds to 38 feet, 4 inches; in other words the dimensions of a dedans court. However, we know that the Marais was lengthened one and half toises (corresponding to 9 English feet, 8 inches) when it was rebuilt in 1644. The original building may therefore have been only 105 feet in in length, which corresponds to the dimensions of a quarré court. Everything therefore depends on how one interprets Garengeau’s description. Theatre historians have divided views on this.

A fairly detailed description of the interior of the Marais, as it was remodelled in 1644, is given in a document reprinted by Mme Deierkauf-Holsboer in her book Le théâtre du Marais. It is entitled: ‘Memorandum summarising what needs to be done to the Marais tennis court. 3 June 1644.’ What emerges from this is a theatrical shape that is clearly derived from the original Hôtel de Bourgogne, though with greater provision for patrons who wished to pay for the privilege of seating. There are two stages at one end of the building, a large main stage and a smaller upper stage for special effects. There is still a large standing pit. Above it there are two tiers of boxes. The description of the ‘Memorandum’ is as follows:

There should be two tiers of boxes, each tier consisting of eighteen boxes and each box to be one toise (6.39 feet) wide from mid point to mid point and four pieds (4.26 feet) deep, not counting the passage behind the boxes which should be one and a half pieds (1.6 feet) wide at its narrowest point. The floor level of the said boxes should be raised seven pieds (7.44 feet) above the level of the pit at the stage end and eight pieds (8.52 feet) at the other end, each box being six pieds (6.39 feet) high. […]

The four front boxes to be one toise (6.39 ft) wide with three seats in each. […]

Between the said partitions, there should be an amphitheatre supported in front by a tie-beam, extending the width of the tennis court and each end to be chased into the wall. The said tie-beam should be one pied (1.06 ft) thick. The said amphitheatre should be three toises (19.18 ft) high and four toises (25.57 ft) wide or thereabouts, well fixed from underneath and furnished with tiered steps from top to bottom. It should be supported by the end wall.

Mme Deierkauf-Holsboer interprets the survey as indicating that each tier contained eighteen boxes, or nine per side [SLIDE 4]. At the end of the hall opposite the stage, as she sees it, there were four front boxes, surmounted by a steeply raked and tiered amphitheatre. On top of the side boxes, there was a standing gallery called the paradis [SLIDE 5].

There is some disagreement amongst scholars about this interpretation of the text. John Golder, in a paper published in Theatre Survey in 1984, argues that even the front boxes were in 2 tiers and that the total of 18 boxes in each tier includes the front boxes. He thus concludes that each tier had 7 side boxes and 4 front boxes. In order to make the amphitheatre structure fit within the known dimensions of the Marais, Golder argues that it was built behind, not on top of the front boxes [SLIDE 6].

Let us now turn to computer models (built by Cat Fergusson from the University of Kent) to test these conflicting interpretations.

Golder argues in his paper that his interpretation leads to a more intimate theatre shape. This computer model based on his interpretation of the Mémoire confirms this, but the model also shows us that his suggested location for the amphitheatre simply does not work. From the position of someone standing (with a height of 5 feet, 6 inches) on the bottom step [SLIDE 7], one sees only a part of the upstage area: anyone seated here would see nothing at all.

There is no evidence to suggest that the amphitheatre was designed for standing patrons. Throughout the Renaissance, tiered steps had been used to provide a basic form of seating. The amphitheatre therefore seems to be designed as a flexible source of seated accommodation, for which higher prices could be charged than in the standing pit. Seated tiers that had no view of the stage at all would hardly commend themselves to potential patrons.

In contrast to this model, we can now turn to one based on an interpretation of the Mémoire that is closer to the view of Deierkauf-Holsboer than of Golder. This computer model shows us that there is little loss of intimacy with 9 instead of 7 side boxes in each tier [SLIDE 8].

The real gain relates to the amphitheatre, where patrons seated on the lowest steps have an exceptionally fine view of the stage and would presumably have been prepared to pay significantly more for this view than patrons standing in the pit.

Whichever interpretation one prefers, one is left with a theatre that lacks any real sense of visual cohesion in the auditorium. A standing pit is located well below the level of the stage and the boxes [SLIDE 9], while the amphitheatre above the front boxes is kept at an even greater distance from the pit [SLIDE 10]. Obviously this was an auditorium layout that had grown organically from a Mediaeval theatre design when it had served the function of bringing a large number of standing spectators into contact with the increasingly earthy delights of mystery plays, while allowing a few well-born spectators to remain aloof from the rest. At a time when the theatre would be asked to fulfil a completely different function, which was to bring an increasingly sophisticated audience into contact with the subtle and complex poetry of French classical drama, it is certainly arguable that the shape of the theatre was no longer relevant to its function. But the theatre is a notoriously conservative institution, and the French theatre was to find itself hampered by the design concept of the Theatre du Marais for many decades to come.

The original Marais theatre had used the simultaneous staging of Mahelot, following long established Mediaeval traditions of staging. Even Corneille’s Le Cid would have been performed in front of a composite set showing different locations in a static and unchanging stage picture. With the increasing restraint of classical playwriting limiting the stage setting to one location, it was an easy matter to adapt the Mediaevally inspired composite stage setting into the classical design of ‘un palais à volonté’, a single stage setting that could remain in place for the whole play.

However, with the arrival of the Italian stage designer Giacomo Torelli in Paris in 1645, Parisian audiences were given a first taste of the delights of the Italian scenic stage, with changes of wings and borders effected by a system of counterweights and winches and with traps and flying machines, including chariots for gods and goddesses, allowing the movement of actors above and below stage. The stage of the Palais Royal was adapted to meet the needs of Torelli’s complex system in 1647 for his production of Luigi Rossi’s Orfeo. The Marais was not adapted to exploit the full complexities of Torelli’s system until the mid 1650s.

But already in the late 1640s, machine plays requiring spectacular effects were mounted at the Marais, these included De Chapoton’s Mariage d’Orphée et d’Eurydice in January of 1648, and Boyer’s Ulysse dans l’Isle de Circé in December of 1648.

Whatever system of scene changing was used, it was quite capable of coping with complex scene changes, as the following description of the settings of De Chapoton’s Orphée indicates:

In the first act, after the curtain rose rapidly, a forest could be seen; the sky, covered with moving clouds, was shaken by a violent storm; Juno appeared amidst flashes of lightning... and clouds opened up in order to set her down upon the stage. At her command, Envy rose from beneath, lying on a bed of lizards and asps.

The second act presented the spectacle of a superb garden, with long paths bordered with hedgerows and fountains... Then Orpheus calls upon Apollo; the horizon turns red, the sun appears, drawn by its four horses walking upon the zodiac. After soothing the distress of Orpheus, he steps back into his chariot, breaches the cloud and causes his luminous palace to appear in the heavens...

This was clearly an ambitious production that made full use of stage machinery, as well as the upper and lower stages. The description indicates just how rapidly scenic design evolved in Paris between the 1630s and the 1650s.