58 • PUBLIC • TAKEN BY AMY
DIRECT FROM LE PETIT JOURNAL:
Vivienne Moreau’s name is one that has frequently graced the pages of the Journal, in many configurations. After years entertaining the theatrically inclined, and even more years smiling on the arms of no less then 4 husbands, news of Madame Moreau adopting anything less than a delightfully lively, scandalous lifestyle would have us wringing our collective hands in distress. If you’re lucky enough to attend one of her soirées, you’ll be in for a wild ride. Paris’ best, brightest, and most bizarre have wandered through her door over the last several decades - you never know who you might see, sipping champagne or reveling in her company.
From an early age, it seemed that no one in Paris was more destined to be in the public eye than Vivienne Moreau. As a child, she craved nothing more than to follow her father into the theatre, bringing delight to the masses with her sensitive and intelligent performing. How the crowds would clap and cheer! How they would cry! She was bursting with excitement when the opportunity finally came her way, just shy of her 18th birthday. A spark of talent began to show through, and soon enough, the young Ms. Moreau had established a fulfilling career as an actress.
Unfortunately, things were not quite so rosy going forward. As Vivienne’s star rose, her family finances hung by a thread. Her father’s habit of spending his evenings among opium drenched gamblers meant that his wife and daughter were under constant pressure to keep the debt collectors at bay. By the time Vivienne was in her early twenties, things looked very dark indeed. How long, she had thought to herself on many a night, could they possibly go on like this?
The solution to her problem arrived in the form of an old colleague. An unsuccessful supporting player, Richard Jenkins had popped the question to Vivienne when she was 18. She’d turned him down then, but in the intervening years he had grown to be quite the catch. She was married for the first time at 21, and hand in hand, the theatrical couple of the 19th century rose to new heights. Three long runs of Shakespeare with Vivienne onstage and her husband by her side, and the Moreaus financial woes were but a hazy nightmare. All was perfect.
Until, that is, fortune intervened. Soon, the feminine half of the great husband and wife team began to get more and more calls to audition, just as her husband began to feel his wallet become thinner and thinner – they no longer wanted the great star of Paris. Instead, his wife seemed a much more enticing idea. By the close of 1894, a highly public adultery trial freed the pair from their dysfunctional union. The first of many.
Vivienne’s next brush with romance came during a run as Hermione in A Winter’s Tale – a man with gleaming teeth and a tremendously full pocket book. Antoine DuBois haunted the stage door, with his money and his stupid, puppyish grin until she was utterly besotted. Before long, his appearances were accompanied by flowers, and then…a proposal. In many ways, she thought it could be a good match. She enjoyed the flattery of his attention, and he seemed enthralled with her. A love like that must be worth throwing away your whole life for, she was convinced of it.
To say that the resulting union soured and grew loveless would be to make it sound far too exciting. It soon became apparent that there wasn’t much between them that could turn sour or grow loveless. Rather, Antoine realized he was more in love with the heroines he had seen onstage than the woman who played them, and Vivienne threw herself into adjusting to a new life – if only to distract herself from how dreadfully dull she found her new husband.Yet another trial and a few years of recuperation later, Vivienne had all but sworn off of love for a while. Or, to be clear, she had sworn off of marriage. Leftover society parties, highly drunken industry get-togethers and general decadence became her bread and butter. Not that she minded the notoriety in the least.
If only her darling, uptight actor-manager boss had been as relaxed about it as she was.To keep her out of the tabloids, they concocted a plan: Her good friend and frequent co-star had recently gotten into hot water about his own night life – in particular, who he spent it with – and had been deemed in need of a wife.
Marriage number three may not have involved dazzling passion – or even any romance at all, but husband and wife quickly became inseparable, building a near-impenetrable ruse. By 1909, however, her husband set his sights on the world of film – this time, she took the fall for infidelity. One of the best performances of her career, she thought: just her, a cash-strapped colleague and a private detective staging a cracking newspaper story in a dingy hotel.
As always, the now thrice-divorced Vivienne soldiered on, meeting everyone of note their was to find. On her arm for close to 10 years was her longest-serving husband, the great and terrible critic Jean Mercier. A turbulent match, and not always a sunny one. Maybe, she began to think, she just wasn’t destined for love after all.
Since the end of both the Great War and her final marriage, Vivienne has floated between the many worlds she’s acquired keys to – one night in society, then one on the stage, then one in the bowels of Paris nightlife. She always has company in the form of the constantly shifting collection of young bohemians who occupy her many, many guest rooms for the night. Perhaps, if you’re charming enough, you just might get to enter into her wild, ever-shifting orbit, too.
The Gilded Lily: You knew her what seems like eons ago, when you were both in very, very different places in your lives. You enjoy her company still, you must admit. When you need to forget about the world entirely, she’s there. You do worry about her, just slightly, but you try not to let on very often - it would damage her pride too much.
The Sycophant: You took them under your wing when they needed it most, as you’ve done for plenty of wayward Parisians. Something about them has stayed with you – they have a certain energy, though you can’t be sure whether you enjoy it or not.
The Benefactor: They’ve bankrolled several of the most recent productions you’ve starred in – and god, have they been terrible. You’re always courteous to them, but their requests and flashes of “genius” have begun to wear on your patience.
Faceclaim & Pronouns: Lesley Manville, she/her.
The Hostess is taken by Amy, she/her.
