LAST DRAMATIC WRITINGS.
In some respects, no man of equal genius was ever so unfortunate as
Victor Hugo in his relations with the stage. I refer, of course, to the
earlier part of his career, for there came a time when the appreciation
of him as a dramatist was as high and universal as was the admiration of
his literary excellence. But during the long struggle between the old
and the new drama there were always enemies ready to denounce and hiss
whatsoever he produced; and had he given them a _Romeo and Juliet_ or a
_Hamlet_, the result would have been precisely the same.
We have seen the alternations of failure and success which attended the
plays already passed in review; and the same mixed reception was awarded
to those final efforts in connection with the drama which led him to
adopt the resolution to quit the stage for ever. An operatic venture
into which the poet was drawn in 1836 resulted in the same ill-fortune
which had marked more regular dramatic compositions. Meyerbeer and other
celebrated musicians had begged Victor Hugo to make an opera of
_Notre-Dame de Paris_, but he had steadfastly declined all such
proposals. At length he yielded to friendship, and wrote the libretto of
an opera called _La Esmeralda_, the music being composed by Mademoiselle
Bertin, daughter of the conductor of the _Journal des Debats_. Curiously
enough, the libretto ended with the word 'fatality,' and this
represented the misfortune of the piece and its performers. Though
boasting a singular array of talent in its production and
representation, it was hissed. Mademoiselle Falcon, the leading singer,
lost her voice; M. Nourrit, the tenor, subsequently went to Italy, and
killed himself; the Duke of Orleans gave the name of _Esmeralda_ to a
valuable mare, which was killed at a steeplechase; and finally, a ship
called the Esmeralda was lost in crossing from England to Ireland, and
every soul on board perished.
A domestic grief visited the poet in the following year, when his
brother Eugene died. For some time before his death he had been insane,
and towards the end his one favourite relative, Victor, even could not
visit him, as the sight of his brother conjured up illusions which made
him dangerously violent. Though of strong constitution naturally, when
the sufferer's mind gave way his physical health began to fail also, and
he gradually wasted away until death released him in February, 1837.
This was the brother who had been Victor Hugo's constant companion in
early life, and the news of his death deeply agitated the survivor,
keenly awakening the slumbering recollections of childhood.
Louis Philippe gave a grand fete at Versailles in the summer of 1837, on
the occasion of the marriage of the Duke of Orleans. Victor Hugo, Dumas,
Balzac, and other men of letters were invited, and were obliged to
appear in fancy dress, the result being ludicrous in some cases, as in
that of Balzac, who had on the dress of a marquis, which, it was
jokingly said, fitted him as badly as the title itself would. Hugo was
an object of special distinction by the Royal family. The King conversed
with him, and the Duchess of Orleans paid him marked attention. There
were two people, she said, with whom she wished to become acquainted--M.
Cousin and himself. She had often spoken of him to Monsieur de Goethe;
she had read all his works, and knew his poems by heart. Her favourite
book was the _Chants du Crepuscule_; and she added, 'I have visited
_your_ Notre-Dame.' Hugo was promoted to the rank of Officer of the
Legion of Honour, and he received from the Duchess a painting by M.
Saint-Evre representing Inez de Castro. It was a valuable work, and on
the gilding of the frame was inscribed, '_Le Duc et la Duchesse
d'Orleans a M. Victor Hugo, 27 Juin, 1837_.'
At this juncture the poet brought a second action before the Board of
Trade, to compel the Comedie Francaise to fulfil its agreement with him
by producing his plays. He also claimed compensation for past neglect.
Hugo's advocate, M. Paillard de Villeneuve, in an effective speech,
demonstrated the injustice of a theatre supported by the State becoming
the monopoly of a clique; showed how the existing state of things
pressed heavily upon such men of genius as his client; and asserted that
not only had no pieces ever realized greater profits, but that actually
at that moment, while they were prohibited in France, they were drawing
large and appreciative audiences in London, Vienna, Madrid, Moscow, and
other important cities. Victor Hugo himself also spoke, complaining that
the manager of the French theatre had deceived him, and that he wore two
masks--one of which was intended to deceive authors, and the other to
elude justice. The Board gave judgment in the poet's favour, sentencing
the Comedie Francaise to pay 6,000 francs damages, and to perform
_Hernani_, _Marion de Lorme_, and _Angelo_ without delay. An appeal was
entered against this judgment, and when it came on for hearing Hugo
pleaded his cause in person, asserting that there was an organized
effort to close the stage against the new and rising school of
literature. The appeal was dismissed, and justice was at length done to
the dramatist. In conformity with the judgment, _Hernani_ was first
produced, and the play was brilliantly successful.
I must refer in this place to some of Victor Hugo's lyrical efforts. Not
without reason has the volume entitled _Feuilles d'Automne_ held a high
place in the regard of his admirers. It is the poetry of the emotions
expressed in such graceful lyric verse as has rarely been penned. In
these tender and exquisite poems, as M. Alfred Nettement observed, the
poet's 'lay is of what he has seen, of what he has felt, of what he has
loved: he sings of his wife, the ornament of his home; of his children,
fascinating in their fair-haired beauty; of landscapes ever widening in
their horizon; of trees under which he has enjoyed a grateful shade.'
Nature and personal experiences--from the opening thoughts of the child
to the greater aspirations of the man--are blended in beautiful harmony
in these poems, which may be turned to again and again for their
sweetness and melody. In 1835 appeared _Les Chants du Crepuscule_, which
truly represent a kind of twilight of the soul. 'As compared with what
had gone before, the book exhibits the same ideas; the poet is
identically the same poet, but his brow is furrowed by deeper lines, and
maturity is more stamped upon his years; he laments that he cannot
comprehend the semi-darkness that is gathering around; his hope seems
damped by hesitation; his love-songs die away in sighs of misgiving; and
when he sees the people enveloped in doubt, he begins to be conscious of
faltering too. But from all this temper of despondency he quickly
rallies, and returns to a bright assurance of a grand development of
the human race.' The volume has tones of gentleness and also tones of
lofty scorn. To the suffering and the unfortunate the poet was ever
tender and pitiful; but to the mean, the base, and the vicious he was as
a whip and a scourge. He always endeavoured to separate the worthy from
the unworthy, and wherever the latter were to be found, whether in the
ranks of friends or foes, they were never suffered to escape the lash of
his indignation.
Another volume of poems, _Les Voix Interieures_, was published in 1837.
'The poet in this production,' says one of his biographers, 'regards
life under its threefold aspect, at home, abroad, and at work; he
maintains that it is the mission of the poet not to suffer the past to
become an illusion to blind him in the present, but to survey all things
calmly, to be ever staunch yet kind, to be impartial, and equally free
from petty wrath and petty vanity; in everything to be sincere and
disinterested. Such was his ideal, and in accordance with it Victor Hugo
spared no effort to improve the minds and morals of men in general, and
by his poetry, as well as by his romances and his plays, he desired to
constitute himself the champion of amelioration.' This same desire for
the elevation of the race ran through all his efforts--social, literary,
and political. He may have been mistaken in his means sometimes, never
in the honesty and purity of his intent.
Returning to the stage, Victor Hugo had become so impressed with the
idea that the French nation had a right to have a theatre in which the
higher drama should be performed, that he was brought to consent to
several interviews on the subject with M. Guizot. The latter admitted
that there never was a more legitimate request; he agreed with the poet
that a new style of art required a new style of theatre; that the
Comedie Francaise, which was the seat of Tradition and Conservatism, was
not the proper arena for original literature of the day; and that the
Government would only be doing its duty in creating a theatre for those
who had created a department of art. A scheme was perfected for a new
theatre, and M. Antenor Joly was named as manager. No building but a
very old one was to be had, however, and this--which was in a bad
situation--was transformed into the Theatre de la Renaissance. For this
theatre Hugo wrote his _Ruy Blas_, a drama which, as is well known,
deals with the love of a queen for a valet who subsequently becomes a
minister. The play was in five acts, and the leading character was
sustained by Lemaitre. The actor strongly approved the first three acts,
but was more than dubious about the fourth and fifth. During the final
rehearsals of this piece Victor Hugo had a marvellous escape of his
life. Two of the actors happening to station themselves awkwardly, he
got up in order to indicate their right positions. Scarcely had he left
his chair when a great bar of iron fell upon it from an arch above,
smashing it to atoms. The author would undoubtedly have been killed on
the spot but for this momentary rising to correct the mistake of the
actors.
The body of the theatre being incomplete when the play came to be
produced, difficulties beset the representation. It was winter, and many
of the audience were chilled by violent draughts. But the play soon
warmed them into enthusiasm. In the fifth act, we are told by one who
was present, Lemaitre rivalled the greatest comedians, and success was
more decided than ever. 'The way in which he tore off his livery, drew
the bolt, and struck his sword on the table, the way in which he said to
Don Sallustre:
'"_Tenez_,
Pour un homme d'esprit, vraiment vous m'etonnez!"
--the way in which he came back to entreat the Queen's pardon, and
finally drank off the poison--everything had so much greatness, truth,
depth, and splendour, that the poet had the rare joy of seeing the ideal
of which he had dreamt become a living soul.'
The play was successful with that part of the public which was
unprejudiced, and the press generally was in its favour. But it appears
that the theatre was wanted by the co-manager for comic opera, so the
fourth act of Hugo's play was persistently hissed at every
representation by interested persons. The _claqueurs_ were detected and
instantly recognised. _Ruy Blas_ ran for fifty nights, the same
programme of hissing being carried through to the end. The manuscript of
the piece was sold to the manager of a publishing company, M. Delboye.
The company also purchased the right of publication of the whole of the
poet's works for eleven years, for which they agreed to pay 240,000
francs; and the poet on his part agreed to add two unpublished volumes.
Victor Hugo produced no drama after this for several years; but in 1840
he issued his work _Les Rayons et les Ombres_, consisting of poems which
had previously been read to his friends Lamartine, Deschamps, De
Lacretelle, and others. Here again he sought expression for his
ever-widening aspirations after human perfectibility. Once more in this
work 'he claims the right of expressing his goodwill for all who labour,
his aversion to all who oppress; his love for all who serve the good
cause, and his pity for all who suffer in its behalf; he declares
himself free to bow down to every misery, and to pay homage to all
self-sacrifice.' In the poetical alternations and contrasts in this
volume will be discovered a profound love and appreciation of Nature, as
well as an undercurrent of affection for the human. The poet himself,
looking back upon what he had accomplished, and forward towards what he
hoped to do, at the transition period before he went into exile,
asserted his thesis that 'a poet ought to have in him the worship of
conscience, the worship of thought, and the worship of Nature; he should
be like Juvenal, who felt that day and night were perpetual witnesses
within him; he should be like Dante, who defined the lost to be those
who could no longer think; he should be like St. Augustine, who,
heedless of any accusation of Pantheism, declared the sky to be an
intelligent creation.' And it is under such inspiration that 'he has
attempted to write the poem of humanity. He loves brightness and
sunshine. The Bible has been his Book; Virgil and Dante have been his
masters; he has laboured to reconcile truth and poetry, knowing that
knowledge must precede thought, and thought must precede imagination,
while knowledge, thought, and imagination combined are the secret of
power.' It would be impossible for a poet with any vigour of
imagination, and any perception of the soul of beauty in all things, to
fail with these sublime ideals before him.
I now come to the last of Victor Hugo's writings for the stage, and in
_Les Burgraves_ we have in some respects the best of his dramatic works.
It was written towards the close of 1842, and produced (like its
predecessors) in the midst of difficulties in March, 1843, at the
Comedie Francaise. At the time of its production, the author's
political opinions had arrived at a stage of compromise. Though he was a
Republican in theory, he had no strong objection to such a monarchy as
that of Louis Philippe, which was liberty itself compared with that
which it overthrew. For a sovereign who refrained from tyranny, and was
not inimical to progress, he had some sympathy, and he was willing to
wait until the time became ripe for the advent of the Republic. Writing
to M. Thiers, indeed, to beg for some amelioration in the lot of an
imprisoned editor, he said of himself, 'I do not at the present time
take any definite political part. I regard all parties as acting with
impartiality, full of affection for France, and anxious for progress. I
applaud sometimes those in power, sometimes the opposition, according as
those in power or in opposition seem to me to act best for the country.'
The catholic spirit in which he looked upon public affairs was
manifested in his study upon Mirabeau. Defining the position of the wise
politician, he remarked that 'he must give credit to the moderate party
for the way in which they smooth over transitions; to the extreme
parties for the activity with which they advance the circulation of
ideas, which are the very life-blood of civilization; to lovers of the
past for the care which they bestow on roots in which there is still
life; to people zealous for the future, for their love of those
beautiful flowers which will some day produce fine fruits; to mature men
for their moderation, to young men for their patience; to those for what
they do, to those for what they desire to do; to all the difficulty of
everything.' So, some years later he stated that the aim he had in view
was 'to agree with all parties in what is liberal and generous, but with
none in what is illiberal and mischievous.' The form of government he
regarded as a secondary affair; liberty and progress demanded the first
and most urgent thought. Herein, of course, he differed from the
professional politician, who has ever looked at great questions not from
the poet's point of view, but from the immediately personal and
practical. Many of his humanitarian ideas appeared Quixotic and
chimerical to those who viewed politics as a matter of party, or as a
means of personal triumph; while unjust and illiberal men were not also
wanting in the ranks of the Republicans.
Then there were some who, like Armand Carrel, were prepared to go with
Victor Hugo in politics, but rejected his new literary ideas. They clung
to the old form of the drama, and found a new star in Ponsard, the
author of _Lucrece_, a tragedy which had for its subject the expulsion
of the Tarquins and the establishment of a Republic in Rome. So the
Parisians were beguiled by the name of Ponsard, who found a great and
useful ally in Rachel; and Hugo was contemned, in spite of such
strictures as those of Thierry in _Le Messager_, who drew a comparison
between the ostracism with which his countrymen visited such brilliant
writers as Hugo, and that of the Athenians, who punished people whose
renown lasted too long.
It was at this juncture that _Les Burgraves_ was produced, and even the
genius of the writer himself added to the difficulties by which he was
beset. He had conceived three stupendous characters, Job, Otbert, and
Barbarossa; and although the actors who sustained these characters, MM.
Beauvallet, Geffroy, and Ligier, were undoubtedly men of dramatic
instinct and ability, neither they nor any other living tragedians could
adequately set forth these epic creations. In the matter of this
magnificent trilogy, the author has been not inaptly compared with
AEschylus. 'The first of Greek tragedians, AEschylus, after he had long
stirred the emotions of the Athenians, was finally deserted by them;
they preferred Sophocles to him, and full of dejection he went into
exile, saying, 'I dedicate my works to Time;' and Time at last did him
ample justice, though he did not live to enjoy his triumph. But in this,
Hugo differed from the glorious Greek, for he lived to witness the
repentance of the people.
_Les Burgraves_ was ill received on the first night, but this was
nothing compared with the opposition subsequently manifested. At every
representation, sneers and hissing interrupted the progress of the
piece; but the manager and the actors struggled on and played the drama
for thirty nights. Some of the most influential journals joined
themselves to the enemy, and the time was marked by the defection of
Lamartine to the side of Ponsard. Theophile Gautier was one of the small
band who boldly applauded Hugo's drama in the press. 'In our day,' he
asserted, 'there is no one except M. Hugo who is capable of giving the
epic tone to three great acts, or of maintaining their lyric swing.
Every moment seems to produce a magnificent verse that resounds like
the stroke of an eagle's wing, and exalts us to the supremest height of
lyric poetry. The play is diversified in tone, and displays a singular
flexibility of rhythm, making its transitions from the tender to the
terrible, from the smile to the tear, with a happy facility that no
other author has attained.'
With the production of this play dates Victor Hugo's final abandonment
of the stage. Strange fate this for a writer for whom Charles Nodier
claimed the honour of being, after Rabelais and Moliere, one of the most
original geniuses that French literature ever saw. But the dramatist was
disgusted with the literary hostility, the political insincerity, and
the personal antipathy which abounded, and although he had a play, _Les
Jumeaux_, which had never been produced, he resolved to give no more of
his writings to the stage. He was repeatedly pressed in after years to
depart from this resolution, but in vain. 'My decision is final,' he
said on one occasion. 'Under no pretext shall any more of my plays
appear on the stage during my life.'
The poet wrote several plays not for publication after this time, and
one of them, _Torquemada_, has been published. Others, named
respectively _L'Epee_, _La Grand'mere_, and _Peut-etre Frere de
Gavoche_, will only appear posthumously. That there will be in them
characters which will live, and that the plays themselves are such as to
enhance the public view of Victor Hugo's dramatic talents, are points
upon which we have explicit assurances from those who have had the
privilege of listening to the pieces as read by the late venerable
author himself.