Fronde is recounted by a variety of eye-witnesses, no two of which agree
in their account of motives--scarcely of facts. Cardinal de Retz, in his
memoirs, gives a somewhat different account of the adhesion of madame de
Longueville to his party. It is singular to remark how each person in
his relation makes himself the prime mover. Rochefoucauld makes us to
almost understand that he drew over the princess to the Fronde. The
cardinal tells us that, seeing madame de Longueville one day by chance,
he conceived a hope, soon realised, of bringing her over to his party.
He tells us that at that time M. de la Rochefoucauld was attached to
her. He was living at Poitou; but came to Paris about three weeks
afterwards; and thus Rochefoucauld and De Retz were brought together.
The former had been accused of deserting his party, which rendered De
Retz at first disinclined to join with him; but these accusations were
unfounded, and necessity brought them much together. The cardinal allows
that madame de Longueville had no natural love for politics,--she was
too indolent;--anger, arising from her elder brother's treatment, first
led her to wish to oppose his party; gallantry led her onward; and this
causing party spirit to be but the second of her motives, instead of
being a heroine, she became an adventuress.]
[Footnote 23: Rochefoucauld's Mémoires; Mémoires de Gourville; James's
Life and Times of Louis XIV.]
[Footnote 24: Mémoires du duc de Rochefoucauld.]
[Footnote 25: Cardinal de Retz relates a scene in which he spoke
disparagingly of Rochefoucauld. He supposes that this was reported to
the duke: "I know not whether this was the case," he says; "but I could
never discover any other cause for the first hatred that M. de la
Rochefoucauld conceived against me."]
[Footnote 26: Cardinal de Retz, in describing this scene, declares that
Rochefoucauld called out to Coligny and Recousse to kill De Retz, as he
held him pinned in the doorway: they refused; while a partisan of the
coadjutor came to his aid, and, representing that it was a shame and a
horror to commit such an assassination, Rochefoucauld allowed the door
to open. Joly relates the occurrence in the same manner; and, although a
little softened in expression, the duke's account does not materially
differ.]
[Footnote 27: The couplet, written by Rochefoucauld at the bottom of a
portrait of the duchess de Longueville is well known.
"Pour mériter son cœur, pour plaire à ses beaux yeux,
J'ai fait la guerre aux rois: je l'aurois faite aux dieux."
When he quarrelled with her, after his wound in the combat of the
fauxbourg de St. Antoine, he parodied it.
"Pour ce cœur inconstant, qu'enfin je connois mieux,
J'ai fait la guerre aux rois; j'en ai perdu les yeux."
It may here be mentioned, that the prince of Conti and the duchess of
Longueville held out in Bordeaux and Guienne against the royal
authority for several years. Through the interposition of Gourville they
acceded to terms in 1658. The conclusion of madame de Longueville's life
was singular. Cardinal de Retz and Rochefoucauld both describe her as
naturally indolent; but they both so inoculated her with a love of party
intrigue, that, when the war of the Fronde ceased, she found it
impossible to reconcile herself to a quiet life. She became jansenist.
She built herself a dwelling close to the abbey of Port Royal aux
Champs. She put herself forward in all the disputes, and was looked up
to with reverence by the leaders of the party, and contrived, when every
one else had failed, to suspend the disturbances caused by the formula.
"A singular woman," the French biographer writes, "who even became
renowned while working out her salvation, and saved herself on the same
plank from hell and from ennui." Her piety was sincere, for she
submitted to great personal privations, and fasted so strictly, that she
died, it is said, from inanition. She died about a month after the duke
de la Rochefoucauld. The bishop of Autun preached her funeral oration,
as madame de Sévigné says, with all the ability, tact, and grace that
it was possible to conceive. The children and friends of Rochefoucauld
were among his audience, and wept his death anew.]
[Footnote 28: "Il y a toujours eût du je ne sais quoi en tout M. de la
Rochefoucauld. Il a voulu se mêler d'intrigues dès son enfance, et en
un temps où il ne sentait pas les petits intérêts, qui n'ont jamais
été son faible, et où il ne connoissait pas les grands, qui, d'un
autre sens, n'ont pas été son tort. Il n'a jamais été capable
d'aucune affaire, et je ne sais pourquoi; car il avait des qualités qui
eussent suplié, en tout autre celles qu'il n'avait pas. Sa vue n'était
pas assez étendue, et il ne voyait pas même tout ensemble ce qui
était à sa portée; mais son bon sens, très bon dans la speculation,
joint à sa douceur, à son insinuation, et à sa facilité de mœurs,
qui est admirable, devait recompenser plus qu'il n'a fait le défaut de
sa pénétration. Il a toujours eût une irrésolution habituelle; mais
je ne sais même à quoi attribuer cette irrésolution: elle n'a pu
venir en lui de la fécondité de son imagination, qui est rien moins
que vive. Je ne puis la donner à la stérilité de son jugement, car
quoiqu'il ne l'ait pas exquis dans l'action, il à un bon fonds de
raison. Nous voyons l'effect de cette irrésolution, quoique nous n'en
connaissons pas la cause. Il n'a jamais été guérier, quoiqu'il fut
très soldat. Il n'a jamais été par lui même bon courtisan, quoiqu'il
ait eût toujours bonne intention de l'être. Il n'a jamais été bon
homme de parti, quoique toute sa vie il y ait été engagé. Cet air de
honte et de timidité que vous lui voyez dans la vie civile s'était
tourné dans les affaires en air d'apologie. Il croyait toujours en
avoir besoin, ce qui jointes a ses maximes, qui ne marquent pas assez de
foi à la vertu, et à sa pratique, qui a toujours été à sortir des
affaires avec autant d'impatience qu'il y est entré, me fait conclure
qu'il eut beaucoup mieux fait de se connaître et de se réduire à
passer, comme il eût pu, pour le courtisan le plus poli et pour le plus
honnête homme, à l'égard de la vie commune, qui eût paru dans le
siècle."
Such is the character de Retz gives of his rival. Madame de Sévigné
has preserved a portrait of the cardinal by Rochefoucauld. He gives him
high praise for good understanding and an admirable memory. He
represents him as high minded, and yet more vain than ambitious; an easy
temper, ready to listen to the complaints of his followers; indolent to
excess, when allowed to repose, but equal to any exertion when called
into action; and aided on all occasions by a presence of mind which
enabled him to turn every chance so much to his advantage that it seemed
as if each had been foreseen and desired by him. He relates that he was
fond of narrating his past adventures; and his reputation was founded
chiefly on his ability in placing his very defects in a good light. He
even regards his last retreat as resulting from vanity, while his
friend, madame de Sévigné, more justly looks upon it as resulting from
the grandeur of his mind and love of justice.]
[Footnote 29: We doubt the exact truth of these assertions even while we
write them. It is true that Rochefoucauld detects self-love as mingling
in many of our actions and feelings, but he does not advance the opinion
that no disinterested virtue can exist, and, still less, the Helvetian
metaphysical notion that self-love is the spring of every emotion, which
it is, inasmuch as it is we that feel, and that our emotions cause our
pulses to beat, not another's; but is not, inasmuch as we do not consult
our own interest or pleasure in all we feel and do. Madame de Sévigné
relates an anecdote of an officer who had his arm carried off by the
same cannon-ball that killed Turenne, but who, careless of the
mutilation, threw himself weeping on the corpse of the hero. She adds
that Rochefoucauld shed tears when he heard this told. Such tears are a
tribute paid to disinterested virtue; and prove, though the author of
the "Maxims" could trace dross in ore wherever it existed, yet that he
believed that virtue could be found in entire purity.]
[Footnote 30: Bayle's Dictionary, article Cæsar.]
MOLIÈRE
1622-1673
Louis XIV. one day asked Boileau "Which writer of his reign he
considered the most distinguished;" Boileau answered, unhesitatingly,
"Molière." "You surprise me," said the king; "but of course you know
best." Boileau displayed his discernment in this reply. The more we
learn of Molière's career, and inquire into the peculiarities of his
character, the more we are struck by the greatness of his genius and the
admirable nature of the man. Of all French writers he is the least
merely French. His dramas belong to all countries and ages; and, as if
as a corollary to this observation, we find, also, an earnestness of
feeling, and a deep tone of passion in his character, that raises him
above our ordinary notions of Gallic frivolity.
Molière was of respectable parentage. For several generations his
family had been traders in Paris, and were so well esteemed, that
various members had held the places of _judge and consul_ in the city of
Paris; situations of sufficient importance, on some occasions, to cause
those who filled them to be raised to the rank of nobles. His father,
Jean Poquelin, was appointed tapestry or carpet-furnisher to the king:
his mother, Marie Cressé[31], belonged to a family similarly situated;
her father, also, was a manufacturer of carpets and tapestry. Jean
Baptiste Poquelin (such was Molière's real name) was horn on the 15th
January, 1622, in a house in Rue Saint Honoré, near the Rue de la
Tonnellerie. He was the eldest of a numerous family of children, and
destined to succeed his father in trade. The latter being afterwards
appointed _valet de chambre_ to the king, and the survivorship of the
place being obtained for his son, his prospects in life were
sufficiently prosperous. His mother died when he was only ten years of
age, and thus a family of orphans were left on his father's hands.
Brought up to trade, Poquelin's education during childhood was
restricted to reading and writing; and his boyish days were passed in
the warehouse of his father. His heart, however, was set on other
things. His paternal grandfather was very fond of play-going, and often
took his grandson to the theatre of the Hôtel de Bourgogne, where
Corneille's plays were being acted. From this old man the youth probably
inherited his taste for the drama, and he owed it to him that his genius
took so early the right bent. To him he was indebted for another great
obligation. The boy's father reproached the grandfather for taking him
so often to the play. "Do you wish to make an actor of him?" he
exclaimed. "Yes, if it pleased God that he became as good a one as
Bellerose[32]," the other replied. The prejudices of the age were
violent against actors. We almost all take our peculiar prejudices from
our parents, whom, in our nonage (unless, through unfortunate
circumstances, they lose our respect), we naturally regard as the
sources of truth. To this speech, to the admiration which the elder
Poquelin felt for actors and acting, no doubt the boy owed his early and
lasting emancipation from those puerile or worse prejudices against the
theatre, which proved quicksands to swallow up the genius of Racine.
[Sidenote: 1637.
Ætat.
14.]
The youth grew discontented as he grew older. The drama enlightened him
as to the necessity of acquiring knowledge, and to the beauty of
intellectual refinement: he became melancholy, and, questioned by his
father, admitted his distaste for trade, and his earnest desire to
receive a liberal education. Poquelin thought that his son's ruin must
inevitably ensue: the grandfather was again the boy's ally; he gained
his point, and was sent as an out-student to the college of Clermont,
afterwards of Louis-le-Grand, which was under the direction of the
jesuits, and one of the best in Paris. Amand de Bourbon, prince of
Conti, brother of the grand Condé, was going through the classes at the
same time. After passing through the ordinary routine at this school,
the young Poquelin enjoyed a greater advantage than that of being a
schoolfellow of a prince of the blood. L'Huilier, a man of large
fortune, had a natural son, named Chapelle, whom he brought up with
great care. Earnest for his welfare and good education, he engaged the
celebrated Gassendi to be Iris private tutor, and placed another boy of
promise, named Bernier, whose parents were poor, to study with him.
There is something more helpful, more truly friendly and liberal, often
in French men of letters than in ours; and it is one of the best traits
in our neighbours' character. Gassendi perceived Poquelin's superior
talents, and associated him in the lessons he gave to Chapelle and
Bernier. He taught them the philosophy of Epicurus; he enlightened their
minds by lessons of morals; and Molière derived from him those just and
honourable principles from which he never deviated in after life.
Another pupil almost, as it were, forced himself into this little circle
of students. Cyrano de Bergerac was a youth of great talents, but of a
wild and turbulent disposition, and had been dismissed from the college
of Beauvais for putting the master into a farce. He was a
Gascon--lively, insinuating, and ambitious. Gassendi could not resist
his efforts to get admitted as his pupil; and his quickness and
excellent memory rendered him an apt scholar. Chapelle himself, the
friend afterwards of Boileau and of all the literati of Paris, a writer
of songs, full of grace, sprightliness, and ease, displayed talent, but
at the same time gave tokens of that heedless, gay, and unstable
character that followed him through life, and occasioned his father,
instead of making him his heir as he intended, to leave him merely a
slight annuity, over which he had no control. Bernier became afterwards
a great eastern traveller.
[Sidenote: 1641.
Ætat.
19.]
Immediately on leaving college Poquelin entered on his service of royal
_valet de chambre_. Louis XIII. made a journey to Narbonne; and he
attended instead of his father.[33] This journey is only remarkable from
the public events that were then taking place. Louis XIII. and cardinal
de Richelieu had marched into Rousillon to complete the conquest of that
province from the house of Austria--both monarch and minister were
dying. The latter discovered the conspiracy of Cinq-Mars, the
unfortunate favourite of the king, and had seized on him and his
innocent friend De Thou--they were condemned to death; and conveyed from
Tarrascon to Lyons in a boat, which was towed by the cardinal's barge in
advance. Terror at the name of the cardinal, contempt for the king, and
anxiety to watch the wasting illnesses of both, occupied the court: the
passions of men were excited to their height; and the young and ardent
youth, fresh from the schools of philosophy, witnessed a living drama,
more highly wrought than any that a mimic stage could represent.
The cardinal had a magnificent spirit; he revived the arts, or rather
nursed their birth in France. It has been mentioned in the life of
Corneille, that he patronised the theatre; and even wrote pieces for it.
The tragedy of the "Cid," while it electrified France, by what might be
deemed a revelation of genius, gave dignity as well as a new impulse to
the drama. Acting became a fashion, a rage; private theatricals were the
general amusement, and knots of young men formed themselves into
companies of actors.
[Sidenote: 1643.
Ætat.
21.]
Poquelin, having renounced his father's trade, and having received a
liberal education, entered, it is believed, on the study of the law;
having been sent to Orleans for that purpose.
[Sidenote: 1645.
Ætat.
23.]
He returned to Paris, to commence his career of advocate; here he was
led to associate with a few friends of the same rank, in getting up
plays: by degrees he became wedded to the theatre; and when the private
company resolved to become a public one, and to derive profit from their
representations, he continued belong to it; and, according to the
fashion of actors in those days assumed a new name--that of Molière.
His father was displeased, and took every means to dissuade him from his
new course; but the enthusiasm of Molière overcame all opposition.
There is a story told, that one respectable friend, who was sent by his
father to argue against the theatre, was seduced by the youth's
arguments to adopt a taste for it, and led to turn comedian himself. His
relations did not the less continue their opposition; they exiled him as
it were from among them; and erased the most illustrious name in France
for their genealogical tree. What would their tree be worth now did it
not bear the name of Molière as its chief bloom, which more rare than
the flower of the aloe, which blossoms once in a hundred years, has
never had its match.
There were many admirable actors in Molière's time, chiefly however in
comedy. There were the three, known in farce under the names of Gauthier
Garguille, Turlupin, and Gros Guillaume, who in the end died tragically,
through the effects of fear. Arlechino (Harlequin) and Scaramouche, both
Italians, were however the favourites: the latter is said to have been
Molière's master in the art of acting; and he never missed a
representation at the Italian theatre when he could help it. The native
comedy of the Italians gave him a taste for the true humour of comic
situation and dialogue; and we owe to his well-founded predilection what
we and the German cities (in contradistinction to the French, who judge
always by rule and measure, and not by the amusement they receive, nor
the genius displayed) prefer to his five act pieces. Nor was this the
only source whence he derived instruction. The bustle and intrigue of
the Spanish comedies had been introduced by Corneille in his translation
of Lope de Vega's "Verdad Sospechosa." Corneille, however, made the
character of the _Liar_, who is the hero, more prominent. Molière is
said to have declared, that he owed his initiation into the true spirit
of comedy from this play. He took the better part; rejecting the
intrigue, disguises, and trap-doors, and discerning the great effect to
be produced by a character happily and truly conceived, and then thrown
into apposite situations.
There is much obscurity thrown over the earlier portion of Molière's
life. We know the names of some of his company. There was Gros René,
and his beautiful wife; there were the two Bejarts, brothers, whose
excellent characters attached Molière to them, and Madeleine Bejart,
their sister, a beautiful girl, the mistress of a gentleman of
Modena--to whom Molière was also attached. Molière himself succeeded
in the more farcical comic characters.
The disorders of the capital during the regency at the beginning of
Louis XIV.'s reign, and the war of the Fronde, replunged France in
barbarism; and torn by faction, the citizens of Paris had no leisure for
the theatre.
[Sidenote: 1646.
Ætat.
24.]
Molière and his troop quitted the city for the provinces, and among
other places visited Bordeaux, where he was powerfully protected by the
duc d'Epernon, governor of Guienne. It is said, that Molière wrote and
brought out a tragedy, called "The Thebaid," in this town, which
succeeded so ill, that he gave up the idea of composing tragic dramas,
though his chief ambition was to succeed in that higher walk of his art.
When we consider the impassioned and reflective disposition of Molière,
we are not surprised at his desire to succeed in impersonating the
nobler passions; we wonder rather how it was that he should have wholly
failed in delineating such, while his greatest power resided in the
talent for seizing and portraying the ridiculous.
After a tour in the provinces he returned to Paris. His former
schoolfellow, the prince of Conti, renewed his acquaintance with him;
and caused him and his company to bring out plays in his palace: and
when this prince went to preside at the states of Languedoc, he invited
them to visit him there.
[Sidenote: 1653.
Ætat.
31.]
Finding Paris still too distracted by civil broils to encourage the
theatre, Molière and his company left it for Lyons. Here he brought out
his first piece, "L'Etourdi," which met with great and deserved success.
We have an English translation, under the name of "Sir Martin Marplot,"
originally written by the celebrated duke of Newcastle, and adapted for
the stage by Dryden; the French play, however, is greatly superior. In
that the lover, _Lelie_, is only a giddy coxcomb, full of conceit and
gaiety of heart. _Sir Martin_ is a heavy plodding fool; and the mistakes
we sympathise with, even while we laugh, when originating in mere
youthful levity, excite our contempt when occasioned by dull obesity.
Thus in the English play, the master appears too stupid to deserve his
lady at last--and she is transferred to the servant; a catastrophe which
must shock our manners; and we are far more ready to rejoice in the
original, when the valet at last presents _Celie_, with her father's
consent, to his master, asking him whether he could find a way even then
to destroy his hopes.
The "Dépit Amoureux" followed, which is highly amusing. Although
Molière improved afterwards, these first essays are nevertheless worthy
his genius.