parts in the ballets.[39] These _comédie-ballets_ were of singular
framework; comedies, in three acts, broad almost to farce, were
interspersed with dances: to this custom, to the three act pieces that
thus came into vogue, we owe some of the best of Molière's plays; when,
emancipated from the necessity of verse and five acts, he could give
full play to his sense of the ridiculous, and talent for comic
situation; and when, unshackled by rhyme, he threw the whole force of
his dry comic humour into the dialogue, and by a single word, a single
expression, stamp and immortalise a folly, holding it up for ever to the
ridicule it deserved. This seizing as it were on the bared inner kernel
of some fashionable vanity, and giving it its true and undisguised name
and definition, often shocked ears polite. They called that "vulgar,"
which was only stripping selfishness or ignorance of its cloak, and
bringing home to the hearts of the lowly-born the fact, that the follies
of the great are akin to their own: the people laughed to find the
courtier of the same flesh and blood; but the courtier drew up, and
said, that it was vulgar to present him _en dishabille_ to the
commonalty. "Let them rail," said Boileau, to the poet, whose genius he
so fully appreciated, "let them exclaim against you because your scenes
are agreeable to the vulgar. If you pleased less how much better pleased
would your censurers be!" "Le Mariage Forcé" was the first of these
comédies ballets.
[Sidenote: 1664.
Ætat.
42.]
The king danced as an Egyptian in the interludes while in the more
intellectual part of the performance Molière delighted the audience as
"Sganarelle"--the unfortunate man, who with such rough courtesy is
obliged to take a lady for better or for worse; a plot, founded on the
last English adventure of the count de Grammont, who, when leaving this
country, was followed by the brothers of _la belle_ Hamilton, who, with
their hands on the pummels of their swords, asked him if he had not
forgotten something left behind. "True," said the count, "I forgot to
marry your sister and instantly went back to repair his lapse of memory,
by making her countess de Grammont." The dialogue of this play is
exceedingly amusing; the metaphysical or learned pedants, whom
Sganarelle consults, are admirable and witty specimens of advisers, who
will only give counsel in their own way, in language understood only by
themselves. The "Amants Magnifiques" followed; it was written in the
course of a few days: it is now considered the most feeble of Molière's
plays; but it suited the occasion, and by a number of delicate and witty
impersonations of the manners of the times, lost to us now, it became
the greatest ornament of a succession of festivals; which under the name
of "Plaisirs de l'Ile enchantée," were got up in honour of mademoiselle
de Vallière; and, being prepared by various men of talent, gave the
impress of ideal magnificence to the pleasures of Louis XIV. On this
occasion Molière ventured to bring out the three first acts of the
"Tartuffe," hoping to gain the king's favourable ear at such a moment.
But it was ticklish ground; and Louis, while he declared that he
appreciated the good intentions of the author, forbade its being acted,
under the fear that it might bring real devotion into discredit. The
"Tartuffe" was a favourite with Molière, who, degraded by the clergy on
account of his profession, and aware that virtue and vice were neither
inherent in priest nor actor according to the garb, was naturally very
inimical to false devotion. He still hoped to gain leave to represent
his satire on hypocrites. He knew the king in his heart approved the
scope of his play, and was pleased that his own wit should have been
considered worthy of transfer to Molière's scenes--Molière himself
venturing to remind him of the incident, which occurred during a journey
to Lorraine, when Molière accompanied the monarch as his valet. When
travelling, Louis was accustomed to make his supper his best meal, to
which, of course, he brought a good appetite: one afternoon he invited
his former preceptor, Perefixe, bishop of Rhodes, to join him; but the
prelate, with affected sanctity, declined, as he had dined, and never
ate a second meal on a fast-day. The king saw a smile on a bystander's
face at this answer, and asked the cause. In reply, the courtier said,
that it arose from his sense of the bishop's self-denial, considering
the dinner he enjoyed. The detail of the dinner followed, dish after
dish in long succession; and the king, as each viand was named,
exclaimed, _le pauvre homme!_ with such comic variety of voice and look,
that Molière, who was present, felt the wit conveyed, and transferred
it to his play, in which _Orgon_, in the simplicity of his heart,
repeats this exclamation when the creature-comforts in which _Tartuffe_
indulges are detailed to him. But though this compliment was not lost on
the king, he did not yield; and Molière was obliged to content
himself--after acting it at Rainey, the country house of the prince of
Condé--by reading it in society, and thus giving opportunity for it to
awaken the most lively curiosity in Paris. There is a well-known print
of his reading it to the celebrated Ninon de l'Enclos, whose talents and
wonderful tact for seizing the ridiculous he appreciated highly; and to
whom he partly owed the idea of the play, from an occurrence that befel
her.[40] Yet he was not consoled by these private readings and the sort
of applause he thus gained, and he grew more bitter against the devotees
for their opposition: in his play on the subject of Don Juan, "Le Festin
de Saint Pierre," brought out soon after, he alludes bitterly to the
interdiction laid on his favourite work. "All other vices," he says,
"are held up to public censure; but hypocrisy is privileged to place the
hand on every one's mouth, and to enjoy impunity." The hypocrites
revenged themselves by calling his _Festin_ blasphemous. The king,
however, remained his firm friend, and tried to compensate for the
hardship he suffered on this occasion by giving his name to his company,
and granting him a pension in consequence.
It was the custom for the soldiers of the body guard of the king, and
other privileged troops, to frequent the theatre without paying. These
people filled the pit, to the great detriment of the profits of the
actors. Molière, incited by his comrades, applied to the king, who
issued an order to abrogate this privilege. The soldiers were furious;
they went in crowds to the theatre, resolved to force an entrance; the
unfortunate door-keeper was killed by a thousand sword-thrusts, and the
rioters rushed into the house, resolved to revenge themselves on the
actors, who trembled at the storm they had brought on themselves. The
younger Bejart encountered their fury with a joke, that somewhat
appeased them: he was dressed for the part of an old man; and came
tottering forward, imploring them to spare the life of a poor old man,
seventy-five years of age, who had only a few days of life left.
Molière made them a speech; and peace was restored, with no greater
injury than fear to the actors--except to one, who in his terror tried
to get through a hole in the wall to escape, and stuck so fast that he
could neither get out nor in, till, peace being restored, the hole was
enlarged. The king was ready to punish the soldiers as mutineers, but
Molière was too prudent to wish to make enemies; when the companies
were assembled, and put under arms, that the ringleaders might be
punished, he addressed them in a speech, in which he declared that he
did not wish to make them pay, but that the order was levelled against
those who assumed their name and claimed their privilege: and that, in
truth, a gratuitous entrance to the theatre was a right beneath their
notice; and, by touching their pride, he brought them for a time to
submit to the new order.
In holding up follies or vices to ridicule Molière made enemies; and by
attacking whole bodies of men, dangerous ones; yet, how much did the
public owe to the spirit and wit with which he exposed the delusions to
which they were often the victims. He first attacked the _faculty_, as
it is called in "L'Amour Médecin," in which he brings forward four of
the physicians in ordinary to the king, empirics of the first order,
under Greek names, invented by Boileau for the occasion: nor can we
wonder, when we read the _mémoires_ and letters of the times, at the
contempt in which Molière held the medicinal art. One specific came
into fashion after the other; quack succeeded to quack; and the more
ignorant the greater was the pretension, the greater also the number of
dupes. Reading these, and turning to the pages of Molière, we see in a
minute that he by no means exaggerated, while he with his happy art
seized exactly on the most ridiculous traits.
[Sidenote: 1666.
Ætat.
42.]
It has been said that the "Misanthrope," now considered by the French as
Molière's _chef-d'œuvre_, was coldly received at first--a tradition
contradicted by the register of the theatre; it went through twenty-one
consecutive representations, and excited great interest in Paris. Still
in this he raises his voice against the false taste of the age; and this
with so little exaggeration, that the pit applauded the sonnet
introduced in ridicule of the prevailing poetry, and were not a little
astonished when _Alceste_ proves that it possesses no merit whatever.
The audience, seeing that ridicule of reigning fashions was the scope of
the play, fancied that various persons were intended to be represented;
and, among others, it was supposed that the duke de Montauzier, the
husband of the _Précieuse_ Julie d'Angennes, was portrayed in
_Alceste_. It is said, that the duke went to see the play, and came back
quite satisfied; saying, that the "Misanthrope" was a perfectly honest
and excellent man, and that a great honour, which he should never
forget, was done him by assimilating them together. There is indeed in
_Alceste_ a sensibility, joined to his sincerity and goodness of heart,
that renders him very attractive; and thus, as is often the case when
genius mirrors nature, the ridicule the author pretends to wish to throw
on the victim recoils on the apparently triumphant personages: the
time-serving _Philinthe_ is quite contemptible; and every honest heart
echoes the disgust _Alceste_ feels for the deceits and selfishness of
society. In truth, there is some cause to suspect that Molière found in
his own sensitive and upright heart the homefelt traits of _Alceste_'s
character, as that of his wife furnished him with the coquetry of
_Célimène_; and when, in the end, the _Misanthrope_ resolves to hide
from the world, one of the natures of the author poured itself forth; a
nature, checked in real life by the necessities of his situation and the
living excitement of his genius.
During the same year the "Médecin malgré Lui" was brought out; whose
wit and comedy stamps it as one of his best: other minor pieces, by
command, occupied his time, without increasing his fame. His mind was
set on bringing out the "Tartuffe." The king had yielded to the outcry
against it; but in his heart he was very desirous of having it acted. On
occasion of a piece being played, called "Scaramouche Hermite," which
also delineated immorality cloaked by religion; the king said to the
great Coudé, "I should like to know why those who are so scandalised by
Molière's play, say nothing against that of _Scaramouche_?" The prince
replied. "The reason is, that _Scaramouche_ makes game of heaven and
religion, which these people care nothing for; but Molière satirises
them themselves, and this they cannot bear."[41] Confident in the king's
support, and anxious to bring out his play, Molière entertained the
hope of mollifying his opponents by concessions: he altered his piece,
expunged the parts most disliked, and changed the name _Tartuffe_,
already become odious to bigot ears, to the _Imposteur_. In this new
shape his comedy was acted once; but, on the following day the first
president, Lamoignon, forbade it. Molière dispatched two principal
actors to the king, then in Flanders, to obtain permission; but Louis
only promised that the play should be re-examined on his return. Thus,
once more, the piece was laid aside; and Molière forced to content
himself with private readings, and the universal interest excited on the
subject. Meanwhile he brought out "Amphitryon," "L'Avare," and "George
Dandin" all of which rank among his best plays. The first has a more
fanciful and playful spirit added to its comedy than any other of his
productions, and displays more elegance and a more subtle wit.
As a specimen of mingled wit and humour, let us take the scene between
Sosia and Mercury, when the latter, assuming his name and appearance,
attempts to deprive him of his identity by force of blows. Sosia
exclaims,--
"N'importe. Je ne puis m'anéantir pour toi,
Et souffrir un discours si loin de l'apparence.
Être ce que je suis est-il en ta puissance?
Et puis-je cesser d'être moi?
S'avisa-t-on jamais d'une chose pareille?
Et peut-on démentir cent indices pressants?
Rêvé-je? Est-ce que je sommeille?
Ai-je l'esprit troublé par des transports puissants?
Ne sens-je bien que je veille?
Ne suis-je pas dans mon bon sens?
Mon maître Amphitryon ne m'a-t-il pas commis
À venir en ces lieux vers Alemène sa femme?
Ne lui dois-je pas faire, en lui vantant sa flamme,
Un récit de ses faits contre notre ennemi?
Ne suis-je pas du port arrivé tout à l'heure?
Ne tiens-je pas une lanterne en main?
Ne te trouvé-je pas devant notre demeure?
Ne t'y parlé-je pas d'un esprit tout humain?
Ne te tiens-tu pas fort de ma poltronnerie,
Pour m'empêcher d'entrer chez nous?
N'as-tu pas sur mon dos exercé ta furie?
Ne m'as tu pas roué de coups?
Ah, tout cela n'est que trop veritable;
Et, plût au ciel, le fût-il moins!
Cesse donc d'insulter au sort d'un misérable;
Et laisse à mon dévoir s'acquitter de ses soins.
MERCURE.
Arrête, ou sur ton dos le moindre pas attire
Un assommant éclat de mon juste courroux.
Tout ce que tu viens de dire,
Est à moi, hormis les coups.
SOSIE.
Ce matin du vaisseau, plein de frayeur en l'âme,
Cette lanterne sait comme je suis parti.
Amphitryon, du camp, vers Alemène sa femme,
M'a-t-il pas envoyé?
MERCURE.
Vous avez menti.
C'est moi qu'Amphitryon députe vers Alemène
Et qui du port Persique arrivé de ce pas;
Moi qui viens annoncer la valeur de son bras,
Qui nous fait remporter une victoire pleine,
Et de nos ennemis a mis le chef à bas.
C'est moi qui suis Sosie enfin, de certitude,
Fils de Dave, honnête berger;
Frère d'Arpage, mort en pays étranger;
Mari de Cléanthis la prude,
Dont l'humeur me fait enrager;
Qui dans Thèbes ai reçu mille coups d'étrivière
Sans en avoir jamais dit rien;
Et jadis en public fus marqué par derrière
Pour être trop homme de bien.
SOSIE (_bas, à part_).
Il a raison. A moins d'être Sosie,
On ne peut pas savoir tout ce qu'il dit;
Et, dans l'étonnement dont mon âme est saisie,
Je commence, à mon tour, a le croire un petit.
En effet, maintenant que je le considère,
Je vois qu'il à de moi taille, mine, action.
Faisons-lui quelque question,
Afin, d'éclaircir ce mystère.
(_Haut._)
Parmi tout le butin fait sur nos ennemis,
Qu'est-ce qu'Amphitryon obtient pour son partage?
MERCURE.
Cinq fort gros diamants en nœud proprement mis,
Dont leur chef se paroit comme d'un rare ouvrage.
SOSIE.
A qui destine-t'-il un si riche présent?
MERCURE.
A sa femme, et sur elle il le veut voir paroitre.
SOSIE.
Mais où, pour l'apporter, est-il mis à présent?
MERCURE.
Dans un coffret scellé des armes de mon maître.
SOSIE (_à part_).
Il ne ment pas d'un mot à chaque repartie,
Et de moi je commence à douter tout de bon.
Près de moi par la force, il est déjà Sosie,
Il pourroit bien encore l'être par la raison;
Pourtant quand je me tâte et que je me rappelle,
Il me resemble que je suis moi.
Où puis-je rencontrer quelque clarté fidèle.
Pour démêler ce que je voi?
Ce que j'ai fait tout seul, et que n'a vu personne,
A moins d'être moi-même, on ne le peut savoir:
Par cette question il faut que je l'étonne;
C'est de quoi le confondre, et nous allons le voir.
(_Haut._)
Lorsqu'on étoit aux mains, que fis-tu dans nos tentes,
Où tu courus seul te fourrer?
MERCURE.
D'un jambon----
SOSIE (_bas, à part_).
L'y voila!
MERCURE.
Que j'allai déterrer,
Je coupai bravement deux tranches succulentes,
Dont je sus fort bien me bourrer.
Et, joignant à cela d'un vin que l'on ménage,
Et dont, avant le goût, les yeux se contentoient.
Je pris un peu de courage,
Pour nos gens qui se battoient.
SOSIE.
Cette preuve sans pareille
En sa faveur conclut bien,
Et l'on n'y peut dire rien,
S'il n'étoit dans la bouteille."
And again, when Sosia tries to explain to Amphitryon how another himself
prevented him from entering his house:--
"Faut-il le répéter vingt fois de même sorte?
Moi vous dis-je, ce moi, plus robuste que moi,
Ce moi qui s'est de force emparé de la porte,
Ce moi qui m'a fait filer doux;
Ce moi qui le seul moi veut être,
Ce moi de moi-mème jaloux,
Ce moi vaillant, dont le courroux
Au moi poltron s'est fait connoître,
Enfin ce moi qui suis chez nous
Ce moi qui s'est montré mon maitre;
Ce moi qui m'a roué de coups."
And his conclusive decision with regard to his master:--
"Je ne me trompois pas, messieurs, ce mot termine,
Toute l'irrésolution:
Le véritable Amphitryon
Est l'Amphitryon où l'on dine."
The "Avare" has certainly faults, which a great German critic has
pointed out[42]; but these do not interfere with the admirable spirit of
the dialogue, and the humorous display of the miser's foibles. "George
Dandin" was considered by his friends as a more dangerous experiment.
There were so many George Dandins in the world. One in particular was
pointed out to him as being at the same time an influential person, who,
offended by his play, might cause its ill success. Molière took the
prudent part of offering to read his comedy to him, previously to its
being acted. The man felt himself very highly honoured: he assembled his
friends; the play was read, and applauded; and in the sequel supported
by this very person when it appeared on the stage. Poor George Dandin!
there is an ingenuousness and directness in him that inspires us with
respect, in spite of the ridiculous situations in which he is placed:
and while Molière represents to the life the annoyances to arise to a
bourgeois in allying himself to nobility, he makes the nobles so very
contemptible, either by their stupidity or vice, that not by one word in
the play can a rank-struck spirit be discerned. As, for instance, which
cuts the most ridiculous figure in the following comic dialogue? The
nobles, we think. George Dandin comes with a complaint to the father and
mother of his wife, with regard to her ill-conduct. His father-in-law,
M. de Sotenville (the very name is _bien trouvé_,--sot en ville,)
asks--
"Qu'est-ce, mon gendre? vous paroissez troublé.
GEORGE DANDIN.
Aussi en ai-je du sujet; et----
MADAME DE SOTENVILLE.
Mon dieu! notre gendre, que vous avez peu de civilité, de ne pas
saluer les gens quand vous les approchez!
GEORGE DANDIN.
Ma foi! ma belle-mère, c'est que j'ai d'autres choses en tête;
et----
MADAME DE SOTENVILLE.
Encore! est-il possible, notre gendre, que vous sachiez si peu
votre monde, et qu'il n'y ait pas moyen de vous instruire de la manière
qu'il faut vivre parmi les personnes de qualité?
GEORGE DANDIN.
Comment?
MADAME DE SOTENVILLE.
Ne vous déférez-vous jamais, avec moi, de la familiarité de ce mot
de belle-mère, et ne sauriez-vous vous accoutumer à me dire Madame?
GEORGE DANDIN.
Parbleu! si vous m'appelez votre gendre, il me semble que je puis
vous appeler belle-mère?
MADAME DE SOTENVILLE.
Il y a fort à dire, et les choses ne sont pas égales. Apprenez,
s'il vous plait, que ce n'est pas à vous à vous servir de ce mot-là
avec une personne de ma condition; que, tout notre gendre que vous
soyez, il y a grande différence de vous à nous, et que vous devez vous
connoître.
MONSIEUR DE SOTENVILLE.
C'en est assez, m'amour: laissons cela.
MADAME DE SOTENVILLE.
Mon dieu! Monsieur de Sotenville, vous avez des indulgences qui
n'appartiennent qu'à vous, et vous ne savez pas vous faire rendre par
les gens ce qui vous est dû.
MONSIEUR DE SOTENVILLE.
Corbleu! pardonnez-moi; on ne peut point me faire des leçons
là-dessus; et j'ai su montrer en ma vie, par vingt actions de vigueur,
que je ne suis point homme à démordre jamais d'une partie de mes
prétentions: mais il suffit de lui avoir donné un petit avertissement.
Sachons un peu, mon gendre, ce que vous avez dans l'esprit.
GEORGE DANDIN.
Puisqu'il faut donc parler catégoriquement, je vous dirai,
Monsieur de Sotenville, que j'ai bien de----
MONSIEUR DE SOTENVILLE.
Doucement, mon gendre. Apprenez qu'il n'est pas respectueux
d'appeler les gens par leur nom, et qu'à ceux qui sont au-dessus de
nous, il faut dire Monsieur, tout court.
GEORGE DANDIN.
Hé bien! Monsieur tout court, et nonplus Monsieur de Sotenville,
j'ai à vous dire que ma femme me donne----
MONSIEUR DE SOTENVILLE.
Tout beau! Apprenez aussi que vous ne devez pas dire ma femme,
quand vous parlez de notre fille.
GEORGE DANDIN.
J'enrage! Comment, ma femme n'est pas ma femme?
MADAME DE SOTENVILLE.
Oui, notre gendre, elle est votre femme; mais il ne vous est
pas permis de l'appeler ainsi; et c'est tout ce que vous pourriez faire
si vous aviez épousé une de vos pareilles.
GEORGE DANDIN.
Ah! George Dandin, ou t'es-tu fourré?"
But we must leave off. Sir Walter Scott says that, as often as he opened
the volume of Molière's works during the composition of his article on
that author, he found it impossible to lay it out of his hand until he
had completed a scene, however little to his immediate purpose of
consulting it; and thus we could prolong and multiply extracts to the
amusement of ourselves and the reader; but we restrain ourselves, and,
returning to the subject that caused this quotation, we must say, that
we differ entirely from Rousseau and other critics who adopt his
opinions; and even Schlegel, who accuses the author of being guilty of
currying favour with rank in this comedy, and making honest mediocrity
ridiculous. If genius was to adapt its works to the rules of
philosophers, instead of following the realities of life, we should
never read in books of honesty duped, and vice triumphant: whether we
should be the gainers by this change is a question. It may be added,
also, that Molière did not represent, in "George Dandin," honesty
ill-used, so much as folly punished; and, at any rate, where vice is on
one side and ridicule on the other, we must think that class worse used
to whom the former is apportioned as properly belonging. In spite of
philosophers, truth, such as it exists, is the butt at which all writers
ought to aim. It is different, indeed, when a servile spirit paints
greatness, virtue, and dignity on one side--poverty, ignorance, and
folly, on the other.
At length the time came when Molière was allowed to bring out the
"Tartuffe" in its original shape, with its original name. Its success
was unequalled: it went through forty-four consecutive representations.
At a period when religious disputes between molinist and jansenist ran
high in France--when it was the fashion to be devout, and each family
had a confessor and director of their consciences, to whom they looked
up with reverence, and whose behests they obeyed--a play which showed up
the hypocrisy of those who cloaked the worst designs, and brought
discord and hatred into families, under the guise of piety, was
doubtless a useful production; yet the "Tartuffe" is not an agreeable
play. Borne away by his notion of the magnitude of the evil he attacked,
and by his idea of the usefulness of the lesson, Molière attached
himself greatly to it. The plot is admirably managed, the characters
excellently contrasted, its utility probably of the highest kind; but
Molière, hampered by the necessity of giving as little umbrage as
possible to true devotees, was forced by the spirit of the times to
regard his subject more seriously than is quite accordant with comedy:
there is something heavy in the conduct of the piece, and disgust is
rather excited than amusement. The play is still popular; and, through
the excellent acting of a living performer, it has enjoyed great
popularity in these days in its English dress: still it is disagreeable;
and the part foisted in on our stage, of the strolling methodist
preacher, becomes, by its farce, the most amusing part in the play.[43]