THE TRIUMPH OF ROMANTICISM.
The war between the two great schools of French poetry, the classic and
the romantic, passed into an acute stage shortly before the publication
of Victor Hugo's _Cromwell_. Romanticism meant more than was implied in
the definition of Madame de Stael, viz., the transference to French
literature of 'the poetry originating in the songs of the troubadours,
the offspring of chivalry and Christianity.' Victor Hugo, and men of a
kindred if not an equal genius, were engaged in a struggle for the very
life and soul of poetry. Poetic genius in France was wrapped in the
grave-clothes of classicism; it was a corpse that needed galvanizing
into life; and it was practically Victor Hugo who rose and said, 'Loose
her, and let her go.'
Goethe had already fought the battle of literary freedom from old
superstitions in Germany, and Byron had done the same in England. It was
now the turn of France to feel the new gush of life, and to gather
strength and lustre in the revival. As M. Asselineau has observed of the
French romanticists, 'to their sincerity, their detestation of
tediousness, their sympathy with life and joy and freshness, as well as
to their youthful audacity, that was not abashed either by ridicule or
insult, belongs the honour of securing to the nineteenth century the
triumph of liberty, invaluable for its preciousness in the world of
art.' And in enumerating the leaders of the movement, he cites as the
most prominent and influential, Chateaubriand, Victor Hugo, Madame de
Stael, Lamartine, Dumas, Alfred de Vigny, Balzac, George Sand, Theophile
Gautier, Merimee, Philarete Chasles, Alfred de Musset, and Jules Janin.
Certainly the influence that developed the talents of such a galaxy of
genius, so far from being despised, should be acclaimed as a force
worthy of all admiration. It was one, in fact, that practically saved
French literature from expiring of inanition.
But the romantics were fiercely assailed; so fiercely that Victor Hugo
said, if they had been thieves, murderers, and monsters of crime, they
could not have been exposed to severer condemnation. Duvergier de
Hauranne treated romanticism as a brain disease, and recommended a
careful diagnosis of those suffering from it, in order to recover for
them gradually their lost senses. But pleasantries such as these were
not likely to affect a man in severe earnest. The literary
revolutionaries of the Cenacle Club, whose leading spirit was Victor
Hugo, laughed at the denunciations hurled against them, knowing that
their opportunity had come. There was only one writer who, having put
his hand to the plough, turned backward. This was Sainte-Beuve. The
temper of his mind was critical, and after the first burst of enthusiasm
with which he hailed the new school, and under whose influence he for a
time joined it, had spent itself, he threw off his allegiance to the
movement, and vowed that he had never really belonged to the reforming
band.
Victor Hugo soon gave a pledge, though not in some respects a successful
one, of the sincerity of his own convictions. M. Taylor, Commissaire
Royal at the Comedie Francaise, and afterwards widely known in the world
of art, asked the poet on one occasion why he never wrote for the
theatre. Hugo replied that he was thinking of doing so, and had already
commenced a drama on the subject of Cromwell. 'A Cromwell of your
writing should only be acted by Talma,' said Taylor; and he forthwith
arranged a meeting between the famous tragedian and the dramatist. Talma
was at that time greatly depressed, taking gloomy views of the stage,
and asserting that his own career had been a failure--had never
fulfilled its ends. No one knew what he might have been, he confided to
Hugo, but now he expected to die without having really acted once.
Nevertheless, from the genius of Hugo he did look for something
original, and he had always longed to act Cromwell. In response, the
author explained his intentions with regard to the proposed play, and
also his views upon the drama generally. These views he afterwards
enlarged upon in the preface to the play. He asserted that there were
three epochs in poetry, each corresponding to an era in society; and
these were the ode, the epic, and the drama. 'Primitive ages are the
lyric, ancient times the heroic, and modern times the dramatic. The ode
sings of eternity, the epic records history, the drama depicts life....
The characters of the ode are colossal--Adam, Cain, Noah; those of the
epic are gigantic--Achilles, Atreus, Orestes; those of the drama are
human--Hamlet, Othello, Macbeth. The ode contemplates the ideal; the
epic, the sublime; the drama, the real. And, to sum up the whole, this
poetical triad emanates from three fountain-heads--the Bible, Homer, and
Shakespeare.'
In _Cromwell_, urged Hugo, he intended to substitute a drama for a
tragedy, a real man for an ideal personage, reality for conventionalism;
the piece was to pass from the heroic to the positive; the style was to
include all varieties, epic, lyric, satiric, grave, comic; and there
were to be no verses for effect. The author repeated his first line,
'_Demain, vingt-cinq juin, mil six cent cinquante-sept_,' which was
certainly ludicrously matter-of-fact. Talma was delighted with the whole
idea, and begged the poet to complete his work at once. Unfortunately
the actor died soon afterwards, and the dramatist now went leisurely on
with his play. While engaged upon the preface he saw some Shakespearean
dramas performed in English at the Odeon, and the representations
affected him deeply, and tinged his dramatic views. At the close of
1827 _Cromwell_ was published, and great indeed was the controversy to
which it gave rise. The period dealt with was not what would be
considered one of the most dramatic in the career of the Protector. It
was that 'when his ambition made him eager to realize the benefits of
the King's death,' when, having attained what any other man would have
reckoned the summit of fortune, being not only master of England, but by
his army, his navy, and his diplomacy, master of Europe too, he was
urged onwards to fulfil the visions of his youth, and to make himself a
king. Cromwell's final relinquishment of the kingly idea, with the
preliminary stages which led up to his resolution, were delineated with
subtle power and psychological skill.
But it was not the play so much as its preface--which the author put
forward as the manifesto of himself and his literary friends--that
stirred the gall of the critics. A writer in the _Gazette de France_,
referring to Hugo's avowed aim to break 'all those threads of spiders'
web with which the army of Liliput have undertaken to chain the drama
whilst slumbering,' reminded him that in this liliputian army there
were some dwarfs to be found not so despicable after all; and amongst
others stood out those men who had written for the stage from _Le Cid_
down to _Cromwell_. 'But what would these men be worth in the eyes of
him who calls Shakespeare the god of the Theatre? It is necessary to
possess some strength to venture to attack giants; and when one
undertakes to dethrone writers whom whole generations have united in
admiring, it would be advisable to fight them with weapons which, if not
equal to theirs, are at least so constructed as to have some chance.' M.
de Remusat in _Le Globe_ endeavoured to hold the scales of justice
between the contending parties, while the famous Preface acted as a
rallying-cry for the supporters of the new principles. M. Soumet, Hugo's
old friend, wrote concerning the drama: 'It seems to me full of new and
daring beauties; and although in your preface you spoke mercilessly of
mosses and climbing ivy, I cannot do less than acknowledge your
admirable talent, and I shall speak of your work--grand in the style of
Michael Angelo--as I formerly spoke of your odes.'
About the time of the publication of _Cromwell_, Victor Hugo was
severely visited in his domestic relations. Madame Foucher, his wife's
mother, and a woman of many and great virtues, passed away; and on the
28th of January, 1828, the poet's father died suddenly of apoplexy. The
General and his second wife had been quite reconciled to Victor and his
brothers, and the Government had once more recognised the title of the
old soldier as General of Division. He was happy in the affection of his
sons, his daughter-in-law, and Victor Hugo's two children--Leopoldine
and Charles. On the evening of his death he had spent several happy
hours with the poet, but in the night the apoplexy struck him with the
rapidity of a shot, and he immediately expired. The incident, as may be
imagined, profoundly affected the sensitive and impressionable spirit of
Victor Hugo.
Some years before these events, Victor Hugo had, in conjunction with M.
Soumet, written a play entitled _Amy Robsart_, founded upon Scott's
_Kenilworth_. Not being able to agree as to the value of each other's
contributions, the two authors separated, each bearing away his own
dramatic goods. Hugo afterwards handed over his play to his
brother-in-law, Paul Foucher, who produced the piece in his own name at
the Odeon. It was loudly hissed. There were passages in it that
unmistakably bore the impress of Victor Hugo, and the latter
chivalrously wrote to the newspapers to say that those parts which had
been hissed were his own work. This acknowledgment drew a number of
young men to the theatre, who were as loud in their applause as a large
portion of the audience were in their condemnation. Altogether, matters
became so lively that the Government interfered, and, to allay the
tumult, interdicted the play.
In the Rue Notre-Dame des Champs there were some rare meetings of poets
and wits, when Victor Hugo and Alfred de Musset would recite poems
composed during the day, and Merimee and Sainte-Beuve would engage in
arguments. M. Henri Beyle, M. Louis Boulanger, and M. Eugene Delacroix
were also to be seen there; and once the venerable Benjamin Constant was
a guest. When Beranger was condemned to three months' imprisonment for
one of his songs, Victor Hugo visited him in his cell. He found that the
French Burns, though obnoxious to the authorities, was the idol of the
populace. His cell was generally full of visitors, and he was inundated
with pates, game, fruit, and wine.
Another great stride in romanticism was made by the publication of
Victor Hugo's _Orientales_, which appeared in 1828. These lyrical poems
were full of energy and inspiration, and it was clear that the very
antithesis of the classical style had now been reached. They enhanced
the reputation of the writer, while they charmed all readers by their
freshness, simplicity, and vigour.
In July, 1829, a brilliant company assembled at Hugo's house to listen
to the reading of a new play by the poet, the famous _Marion de Lorme_,
originally called _A Duel under Richelieu_. The writer, it was soon
seen, had avoided the faults which marked the construction of
_Cromwell_, and had produced a real drama, and one well adapted for
stage representation. The company present at the reading included
Balzac, Delacroix, Alfred de Musset, Merimee, Sainte-Beuve, Alfred de
Vigny, Dumas, Deschamps, and Taylor. Dumas, with the generous frankness
which always characterized him, afterwards wrote respecting the play: 'I
listened with admiration the most intense, but yet an admiration that
was tinged with sadness, for I felt that I could never attain to such a
powerful style. I congratulated Hugo very heartily, telling him that I,
deficient in style as I was, had been quite overwhelmed by the
magnificence of his.' But there was one point upon which Dumas,
supported by Sainte-Beuve and Merimee, pleaded, and pleaded
successfully. Not feeling satisfied that Didier should meet his death
without forgiving Marion, Hugo yielded to the pressure put upon him, and
altered the drama accordingly. The news of a new play by Victor Hugo
brought forward the managers at once, but it had already been promised
to M. Taylor for the Theatre Francais. However, there was the ordeal of
the censors yet to pass through, and fears were entertained as to the
fourth act, in which Louis XIII. was described as a hunter, and
represented as governed by a priest--points in which everybody would see
a resemblance to Charles X. Permission to perform the play was refused.
Victor Hugo appealed to the King, who removed from office the Minister
of the Interior (M. de Martignac), the dramatist's chief enemy, and
promised to read the offending act himself. Having done so, his Majesty
declined to give his sanction to the representation of the drama, but
by way of a solatium granted the poet a fresh pension of 4,000 francs.
Hugo was indignant, and at once wrote declining the pension, upon which
the _Constitutionnel_ remarked, 'Youth is less easily corrupted than the
Ministers think.' With regard to the drama itself, it has been well
remarked that 'had Marion, in spite of her heroism and her repentance,
been adequately chastised for her lapse from virtue, probably much of
the sentimentality would have been avoided, which, although now
exploded, at the time caused a great depravity of taste, and invested
the "Dames aux Camellias" and the "Mimis" of Bohemian life with an
interest that they did not deserve.'
Undismayed by what had occurred, Victor Hugo now devoted himself to the
composition of another drama, and his _Hernani_ was shortly in the hands
of M. Taylor for production. The censors again interfered, and in the
course of a very impertinent report, observed that the play was 'a
tissue of extravagances, generally trivial, and often coarse, to which
the author has failed to give anything of an elevated character. Yet
while we animadvert upon its flagrant faults, we are of opinion that
not only is there no harm in sanctioning the representation of the
piece, but that it would be inadvisable to curtail it by a single word.
It will be for the benefit of the public to see to what extremes the
human mind will go, when freed from all restraint.' These literary
censors did, however, require the alteration or removal of certain
passages in which the kingly state and dignity were handled with too
much freedom; and they forbade the name of Jesus to be used throughout
the piece.
The supporters of the classical drama strenuously exerted themselves to
prevent the play from being produced, but in vain. Of course, this
creation of a new style meant the decline of the old one. The play went
into rehearsal, and the author had a passage of arms with Mademoiselle
Mars, who took the part of Dona Sol. This lady, whose power had made her
imperious, found her master in Hugo, and when threatened with the loss
of her part, she consented to deliver a disputed phrase as written. The
time for production came, and when the author was asked to name his
systematic applauders, according to custom, he declined to do so,
stating that there would be no systematic applause. The play excited
the liveliest curiosity. Benjamin Constant was amongst those who
earnestly begged for seats, and M. Thiers wrote personally to the author
for a box. The literary friends of Victor Hugo attended in great
numbers, including Gautier, Borel, and Balzac. The theatre was crowded,
and the feeling of all parties intense. As the play progressed from act
to act, nevertheless, it gained in its hold upon the audience. When the
fourth act closed, M. Maine, a publisher, sought out Victor Hugo, and
offered him 6,000 francs for the play, but the matter, he said, must be
decided at once. The author protested, remarking that the success of the
piece might be less complete at the end. 'Ah, that's true, but it may be
much greater,' replied the publisher. 'At the second act I thought of
offering 2,000 francs; at the third act I got up to 4,000; I now at the
fourth act offer 6,000; and after the fifth I am afraid I should have to
offer 10,000.' Hugo laughingly concluded the bargain for 6,000 francs,
and went with the eager publisher into a tobacco shop to sign a roughly
improvised agreement. The play concluded brilliantly, Mademoiselle Mars
securing a great triumph in the last act. The whole house applauded
vociferously, and the triumph of romanticism was complete.
The literary war which ensued was very fierce. In the provinces, as in
Paris, it divided the public into hostile camps, and so deep were the
feelings which it excited that in Toulouse a duel was fought over the
play, and one of the antagonists was killed. Armand Carrel was
especially bitter in his assaults upon _Hernani_, but Hugo was more than
consoled for this and other attacks by the following letter from
Chateaubriand: 'I was present, sir, at the first representation of
_Hernani_. You know how much I admire you. My vanity attaches itself to
your lyre, and you know the reason. I am going--you are coming. I
commend myself to the remembrance of your muse. A pious glory ought to
pray for the dead.' As an amusing pendant to this, it may be mentioned
in connection with the poet and _Hernani_, that a provincial Frenchman
(in making his will) ordered the following inscription to be placed on
his tombstone: 'Here lies one who believed in Victor Hugo.'
In spite of the attacks in the press, also of personal threats and of
the deliberate and almost unparalleled attempts to stifle the play in
the theatre itself, _Hernani_ held its own, and continued to be played
with great pecuniary success until the enforced absence of Mademoiselle
Mars, when it was withdrawn from the stage, and not acted again for some
years. But the play had practically established the new drama. It was
the herald of the renaissance, and for this reason must continue to
occupy a conspicuous position whenever an attempt is made to estimate
the dramatic work and influence of Victor Hugo.