Sardou's marvelous theatrical technique is nowhere better exemplified
than in _La Sorcière_, one of his last tragedies. Bigotry, love,
superstition and persecution are the predominating elements of the
action, which is laid in Granada immediately after the conquest by the
Spaniards. What better material for romance? The principal figures are
a Castilian officer and a cultured Moorish woman, who, ignoring an
edict of the Inquisition inflicting the death penalty upon alliances
between Christians and unconverted Moslems, have the strength to
assert their rights as normal human beings--and to suffer the
inevitable consequences. It is the depiction of a struggle for
individual freedom in which the common truths of the human heart beat
hopelessly for expression against the bigotry of the masses and the
bigotry of those who not only know better but who also use it as an
agency in strengthening their own power. The result is the old
struggle between knowledge and ignorance, between love for one's
religion and country and for the satisfaction of the soul's desire
regardless of traditions discarded and of idols knocked down in the
accomplishment of that desire. In this process of emerging, of
transition, in this sudden seizure by unknown forces upon new
combinations of circumstances, in this bidding farewell to the old
while hailing with allegiance that of which we are unaware until the
clarifying moment arrives, lies the essence of tragedy. "It is
possible," said the late William James, "that Being may be a great
sea of consciousness, some of the fag ends of which are human minds."
It is in the interplay, in the constant weaving and raveling of that
cosmic pattern which we call life that the dramatist finds the few
wisps of experience suitable for interpreting his own understanding
of a certain phase of existence. "The representation of a great
misfortune alone is essential to tragedy," declared Schopenhauer.
"Characters of ordinary morality, under circumstances such as often
occur, are so situated with regard to each other that their position
compels them, knowingly and with their eyes open, to do each other
the greatest injury without any of them being entirely in the wrong."
Under this definition, _La Socrière_ qualifies exactly as a tragedy.
In creating his plays Sardou did not attempt to conform to any
particular definition. He was independent in choice of materials and
in method of handling: the purpose justified the treatment. In _La
Sorcière_ he showed his hatred of tyranny, and he puts into the mouth
of Zoraya, the Moorish woman, in that powerful seventh scene of Act
IV, one of the bitterest denunciations of the Inquisition ever made
through the drama. Sardou studied historic events with the eyes of a
scientist. He was interested in hypnotism and in spiritualism. While
studying the Middle Ages he concluded that the so-called sorcery of
that time was nothing else but hypnotism, long known to the Orientals
and introduced by them among the Moors. It was only natural that an
age, so reeking with superstition that it persecuted the man who
declared that the earth revolves around the sun, should brand as an
agent of the devil any one familiar with hypnotic power. Through a
feminine character in whom were combined the best qualities of
Mohammedanism and the gift of healing, Sardou was able to throw the
strongest light upon superstition in the Middle Ages.
The plot of _La Sorcière_ is the work of a master craftsman. In
motivation and in development of situation the play is so well rounded
that no part can be removed without spoiling the whole. The action
opens with a humorous scene in which a petty officer vested with
authority is bullying a crowd of peasants, among whom is supposed to
be the culprit who stole the corpse of an executed criminal publicly
exposed--the body being that of an unconverted Moor who had loved a
Christian girl. In this scene Sardou begins to draw his background of
superstition by means of the words of the ignorant natives, who jump
at a suggestion of one of their number, and denounce as the thief
Zoraya, the "Sorceress." In a scene poetic with romance and beauty Don
Enrique and Zoraya, whom he wishes to arrest, drift into the same
relation which resulted in the death of the young Moor, whose body
had been stolen. This act is the great corner-stone of the drama.
Sardou's skillful motivation prepares the reader for developments in
the coming four acts, but this craftsmanship is so carefully hidden
that the relations of incidents are so natural that they come in the
form of surprises. The sequence of the events is perfect. The
transition from the first to the second act, in which develop Don
Enrique's dangerous secret relationship with Zoraya and his
inexplicable reason for discontinuing his visits to her, is perfectly
natural, and the last scene of the act, consisting of only a few
phrases of explanation, suddenly reveals such an astonishing
complication that the effect is nothing short of tremendous. With a
climax so effective the entire foundation of the action is laid. We
have learned that the Christian girl whom Zoraya has begun to cure
with hypnotic power is to become the bride of Don Enrique, a fact
which she did not know before the girl was taken away happy with the
thought that she should now be more acceptable to her lover.
In the third act Don Enrique's character is tested in a struggle
which he loses with overpowering circumstances. Gossips open the
action with a frivolous discussion of the marriage of Don Enrique and
the governor's daughter. They satisfactorily explain that the parents
of the couple years before had arranged the marriage. They also
gossip about sorcerers and sorceresses. From suggestions we learn that
Zoraya is in danger, and that her relations with Enrique are known.
Close by the nuptial chamber begins the clash of fateful
circumstances, which decide within a short time the destinies of
Don Enrique and Zoraya. Near the conclusion of this act we have the
purest essence of tragedy, if we accept Aristotle's statement that
tragedy is an imitation of actions which are terrible and piteous.
Enrique, after nobly refusing to renounce his country and his religion
and to flee with Zoraya to Morocco, is forced to become with her a
fugitive after he unintentionally kills an agent of the Inquisition
who suddenly detects them and attempts to arrest Zoraya. Flight and
pursuit of Don Enrique and Zoraya close the act. This scene is one of
gripping intensity.
The merciless execution of power, the intolerance and tyranny of the
Holy Inquisition are portrayed in an exemplification of a session of
that body in the fourth act. Again the action to be developed is
disclosed by the conversation of monks waiting for the council to
convene. We learn that Zoraya and Don Enrique have been captured. We
know the penalty likely to be pronounced upon them, but we remember
that it is Zoraya alone who has the power of restoring to
consciousness the daughter of the governor and bride of Enrique, who
is deeply sleeping on her nuptial night. The unrelenting cruelty used
by the Inquisition in making the captive hag and the unfortunate young
girl testify against Zoraya, from whom they wring a confession to
sorcery in order to free Don Enrique, rouses pity and indignation,
which increase to highest pitch when her lover, who stands at the side
unobserved by her until she has told all, is deceived into believing
that she is a sorceress and that he has been victimized. But this has
not been done without bringing upon the members of the Inquisition
Zoraya's storm of righteous denunciation. There is anguish unutterable
when Don Enrique, who does not know that Zoraya has made the greatest
sacrifice that a human being can make, accuses her of being false. To
this injustice is added the climax of the act which closes with this
awful sentence: "We shall burn her after vespers."
The final act is short and intense. Zoraya has been sentenced to
death, but we know that she still holds the possible price of her
freedom. The final setting of the play is magnificent: it is
characteristic of Sardou. Here is a street scene in front of a great
cathedral near which is a pyre ready for burning Zoraya. Into this act
are packed all of the color, the pomp and the pageantry of the church
and chivalry of the heroic age in Spain. There is a wonderful
procession, a stirring mob scene, intensified with the solemn sounds
of religious chanting, the roll of organ music and the resonant boom
of tower bells. Don Enrique learns of Zoraya's sacrifice. As we
expected, she is given her liberty on condition that she restore to
consciousness the governor's daughter, a performance that causes the
mob, already incensed by fanatical monks, to demand her death
immediately after receiving the liberty which she deserves. Don
Enrique nobly chooses death with her.
The conclusion of the action shows Sardou's wonderful technique at
its best. The sequence of events is natural and the transition from
situation to situation is motivated so realistically that the threads
of the structure cannot be detected. Wide passages cross and recross
until they become intricately involved in mazes which ultimately lead
to the foot of an unscalable blind-arcade. Then suddenly there come
from an unexpected place a glimmer of light, a swift opening of doors,
and all is seen at a flash. This is not ordinary stagecraft--it is
the necromancy of stagecraft!
* * * * * * *
The translator has endeavored to follow as closely as possible _La
Sorcière_ as Sardou wrote it, remembering that Browning said in the
introduction to his translation of the _Agememnon_ of Æschylus: "I
should require him [the translator] to be literal at every cost save
that of absolute violence of our language."
Charles A. Weissert.