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History of Western Theatre: 17th Century to Now/French Romantic

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Engraving of the Theatre Italien, Paris, 1840s

Victor Hugo

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Victor Hugo wrote two major tragedies of the Romantic period. Drawing of the author by an unknown artist, 1829

French Romantic tragedy is capably represented by Victor Hugo (1802-1885) with "Hernani" (1830) and "Ruy Blas" (1838). Together with many other 19th century dramatists, Hugo was heavily influenced by Shakespeare, including the tendency to mix comic with tragic elements, unlike classical 17th century tragedy. With "Hernani", Hugo broke away from the influence of classicism. "Victor Hugo does use both phrases and thoughts that no writer of French tragedy had dared to use before. And here, rather than anywhere else, do we find what we mean when we say he was a Romanticist. The terms as applied to French literature used to be defined by saying that the essence of Classicism was the seeking of material in the life of Greece and Rome, and that the essence of Romanticism was the seeking of material in the life of the Middle Ages. A broader definition, however, is this, if any be possible: Classicism in literature consists in limiting the choice of a writer within a certain range of special terms and special ideas, these terms and these ideas being such as the best authors of the past have considered beautiful and appropriate. Romanticism is the theory- a more generous one- which would permit and encourage a writer to look for his material and his terms among thoughts and expressions more common in everyday experience, with large freedom of choice. In short, Romanticism is the recognition of the rights of modernity in art" (Harper, 1901 p 192).

In "Hernani", “the history of the time furnishes us with no scene similar to the one which forms the plot of our drama. Charles II was elected Emperor of Germany after the death of his grandfather Maximilian, upon the recommendation of the elector Frederick the Sage, of Saxony. If any opposition was made to his election, it was merely upon the ground that it was dangerous to raise to the imperial throne a monarch already so powerful. But the threatening Turk, who was pressing closely upon the eastern boundary of the empire, was a danger clearly enough recognized to cause internal ambitions to be put aside. It was urged that the possessions of Charles were so exposed to the invasions of the Turks that it would be in his own interest to make a vigorous defence. This reason was found to be convincing, the advice of Frederick the Sage prevailed, and the election of Charles V was nearly unanimous. There was no sacrosanct league to crush the imperial eagle in the egg” (Matzke, 1891 p 39). “Charles II of Spain had two wives, one of German origin, the other French. Hugo combines the German name with the character of the French wife. Six of the eight scenes in which she has part stress her unhappiness. In the first three, the unhappiness is a sensation of restlessness born of boredom and loneliness. In the last three, it is keen suffering due to Ruy Blas” (Ihrig, 1950 p 87). "Few effects have ever been produced on the stage which exceed in power and pathos the climax of this great tragedy. No more thrilling catastrophe can be imagined than the swift plunge from the bliss of perfect happiness and security which the newly-wedded pair were entering and enjoying down to the fearful alternative of death or dishonor, forcibly signalled by the startling note of the fatal horn. But the abiding popularity of the play, when the storm of its launching had subsided, was due to its swiftness in action, the lyrical beauty of its poetry and the enchanting pictures of youthful love and fidelity, emphasized rather than destroyed by the heartrending catastrophe" (Bates, 1903 vol 9 French drama pp 22-23). "Hernani" "first exhibited a dramatic struggle between an individual and society at large. The hero is a bandit and an outlaw, and he is doomed to failure because of the superior power of organised society arrayed against him" (Hamilton, 1910 p 140). "Picturesqueness and moving force it has in abundance; and in spite of the fact that the life which it depicts is utterly unreal, it is imbued throughout with an interesting theatricism. The repartee of the first act is clever; and the exposition is terse, direct, and rapid. The love scenes are rendered with a great deal of lyric fervor, and Hugo's great poetic power makes their passionate ardor very moving. The vein of sardonic humor which runs through Don Carlos during the first three acts is also interesting" (Hamilton, 1903 p 173). "There is not an emotion in Hernani which is not strained to its extremest pitch. The hero is a noble-minded man of genius, the genius and noble-mindedness being of the type which exists in the imagination of a young man of twenty. His genius impels him to lead the life of a brigand chieftain, and out of pure high-mindedness and contempt for ordinary prudence he does the most foolish things- betrays himself, lets his mortal enemy escape, gives himself up again and again. As chieftain he exercises unbounded power over other men, but it seems to be his courage alone which gives him this, for all his actions are as unreasoning as a child's. Nevertheless there is life and reality in the play" (Brandes, 1906 p 26). “Hernani is one of the darkest and most horrible of tragedies. It is not a villain who suffers here, but a pair of tender, youthful lovers, and through no fault of their own. An evil Fate overtakes them, and at their moment of highest bliss, which heightens the horror of the calamity. Inexorable Fate, using as its instrument Don Ruy Gomez, overwhelms them, not a moral kind of fate, as in melodrama and in Greek tragedy, but a Fate that is cruel, unjust, relentless, a fate which is entirely the opposite of Providence. There is something mystical, something unearthly about this tragedy” (Lacey, 1928 p 47). "Hernani is a romantic hero, incarnating by his double character and bandit, the emotions, the passions, the aspirations, the contradictions, the doubts and the revolts of the modern man...One of Hernani's most striking characteristics is his melancholy...He is at times gloomy and moody, and his misfortune becomes to him night, into which he plunges...Stronger than Hernani's jealousy are his hatred and desire for revenge. For years he has nursed his hatred, caused first by the murder of his father by the father of Carlos, and again by the fact that the king is his rival for the hand of Dona Sol...Among...virtues, which help to form the artistic complexity of Hernani's character, are his chivalry, consideration, and magnanimity...Though his rage swells when a king insults him, yet he will not assassinate Carlos whom he has in his power...When in the pardon scene Hernani is placed among those whose lives are spared, he protests and claims that he, too, is a noble and should therefore be included among the unpardoned nobles...When Hernani hears the fatal blast of the horn, he endeavors to keep the truth from Dona Sol and seeks to spare her the agony of seeing him meet his fate" (Bruner 1905a, pp 210-213). "In a number of the most distinctly Romantic plays of this group, all the emphasis is laid on the hero. The girl- we can hardly call her the heroine- is little more than the charming recipient of the man's affection and the helpless victim of the conflict. In Hernani, for example, Dona Sol, though not at all a doll but a very real character, has no control over the man-made action of the play. Indeed, in many of these plays, we seem to be in a world of men, containing only one woman with whose fate we are at all concerned" (Mann, 1935 p 122). But other critics opine that Dona Sol is a more considerable character than this. “In the closing scene (Act V, scene 6), the dagger appears once more, this time to threaten Gomez; yet Doña Sol casts it away and resorts to tearful entreaty. Has she lost her courage or has her character grown weak? Not at all. The greater courage, the greater beauty is to die with Hernani...The ethereal ideal must not be soiled by the imperfections and ugliness of the actual world” (Ihrig, 1950 pp 42-43). “At first [Don Ruy Gomez]' jealousy is the touching jealousy of the discarded old lover, but when he learns that the king is his rival in love, his jealousy turns to hate and a desire for revenge. His passion then becomes epic, for there is no longer any struggle represented. He is first all love, then all hate. As soon as Gomez learns that Dona Sol has been carried off by his royal rival, his hatred becomes furious, and from that time on he thinks only of hate and revenge. He pursues the king until Carlos surrenders Dona Sol to Hernani, and then he relentlessly pursues the bandit until Hernani is dead...While Hernani and Gomez are truly tragic characters, the former meeting his tragic fate on account of an error of judgment, and the latter through a crime, the young king, Don Carlos, is portrayed as a comic character, passing from good to better, and as an imperfect character, passing from vice to goodness...The youthful king is further exhibited as a frivolous libertine, whose love is not really serious but is a distraction...In the progress of the drama Don Carlos is presented to us not only as a humorous king jesting with his courtiers, not only as a frivolous young monarch engaged in schemes of base intrigues, but also as a magnanimous emperor transformed by a worthy ambition and by the contemplation of new and weighty responsibilities...Like Juliet, with whom she has much in common, Dona Sol is an eminently practical woman. She asks Hernani not to blame her strange audacity in proposing to follow him to the mountains, for where he goes she will go. She plans the clandestine meeting and the flight. Frustrated in her first plan, she again proposes flight. She insists on following him even to the scaffold” (Bruner, 1905b pp 445-451). Throughout the play, Hernani and Dona Sol continually switch their manner of addressing each other by either using the formal “vous” (“you” used as a singular pronoun) to the more intimate “tu” (“thou” used as a singular pronoun), a shift meant “to enrich character depiction and to reflect the violent mood swings of love” (Porter, 1999 p 38). “The characters, ungoverned by traditional norms of psychological development, reflect this lyricism. The lovers do not evolve towards self-understanding. Their progression is not analogous to the logic of classical tragedy. The peripeties of the plot contribute superficial surprise which leaves intact the essential and fixed pattern of relationships between the characters. This pattern is created by the imposition of lyric values on the theatrical genre” (Affron, 1971 p 22). “In the fourth act when Don Carlos is standing before the tomb of Charlemagne, he bursts forth in a poetical speech analyzing his emotions. It is a long monologue, but it is dramatic poetry far above the ordinary. The action of the play is at a standstill, and practically the whole speech could be cut without harming the action in any respect. On the other hand, the moment of intense dramatic surprise, suspense, and interest is caused, not by a speech, but by the far-away sound of a hunting-horn which brings the message that young Hernani must commit suicide at that very moment on his wedding night. When this play is produced at the Comedie Française there is always a burst of warm applause at the end of the monologue of Don Carlos, while at the sound of the horn a movement of emotion and an indistinct murmur sweep over the whole theater. There is no doubt as to which scene is the more powerful, the more enjoyed by the audience. It is quite possible that in the latter scene Hugo might have written a wonder ful passage, full of poetry and keen psychology, describing the sound of the horn and its meaning to Hernani and his bride; but Hugo was too much of a dramatist to make this mistake. While we may have lost a strong piece of literature, we have kept a powerful dramatic moment” (Stuart, 1913 p 115).

In "Ruy Blas", "the main plot of vengeance and love, in which Salluste, in order to avenge himself, disguises his romantic lackey as a nobleman and seeks by the resulting love affair to compromise the queen, is apparently derived from a historical event, the marriage of Angelica Kauffmann to the impostor Horn, which was made known to Hugo by his friend Rabbe's article in the 'Biographie universelle et portative', and by Leon de Wailly's historical romance 'Angelica Kauffmann'" (Lancaster, 1917 p 129). "Of all of Hugo’s plays, two have maintained their popularity, through changing fashions: 'Hernani' and 'Ruy Blas'. It is significant that both are verse dramas dealing with Spain, a country which had possessed a peculiar glamor for the poet ever since he entered the College des Jeunes Nobles in Madrid at the age of nine In Ruy Blas, we find the same brilliant qualities of style which had distinguished Hernani, dazzling antitheses, and stirring lyricism. Ruy Blas equals Hernani also in another Romantic quality, melancholy, which according to Hugo was one of the greatest contributions of Christianity to human thought As for local color, that prime essential of romanticism, Ruy Blas is distinctly superior to Hernani...Into this milieu of corruption and despair, Victor Hugo weaves his plot of love and intrigue. The principal characters are either wholly fictitious or are altered almost beyond recognition Yet the author’s use of local color is so skillful that he contrives to give a curious illusion of historical fidelity. The dual character of Ruy Blas is well reflected in his name. Ruy, or Rodrigo, was the name of the Cid, the illustrious Spanish leader who fought against the Moors in the eleventh century. Blas (French Blaise)is a plebeian name, and is appropriate for a lackey, just as Ruy befits the prime minister of Spain. Ruy Blas is a characteristic Romantic hero. Victim of an overpowering and hopeless love, he drifts steadily towards the suicide which an inexorable fate holds in store for him. Don Salluste, a fictitious member of the noble Bazan family, lives only for revenge against the queen. To that end, he attempts to use Ruy Blas as a puppet. The cold-bloodedheartlessness of the cunning Don Salluste forms a contrast with the noble character of Ruy Blas...Queen Anna Maria, daughter of Philip William, Duke of Neuburg, was married to Charles II of Spain, as we have seen, in 1690 Victor Hugo gives to her many of the characteristics of the first wife of Charles II, Marie-Louise d’Orléans. As conceived by the poet, the queen is a typical romantic heroine in her rebellion against the restraint of Spanish court etiquette, in her fondness for nature, especially the blue flower, and in her love for a man below her station in life" (Moore, 1933 pp 13-18). “In 'Ruy Blas' the philosophical idea is that of the real nobility (and helplessness) of the people in contrast with the egotism of the upper classes. The people, strong enough to rise above a mean estate, noble enough to set an example to the higher classes, but yet helpless, by inherent weakness of will, at the critical moment of its history-that is tragic enough, if that is the meaning of the play” (Lacey, 1928 p 52). “The exposition is rapid, the plot is energetically developed; the characters are carefully distinguished, and in the happy-go-lucky figure of Don César we have a pleasing return to Hugo's early humor. César has the fourth act entirely to himself; but it can hardly be said that the act is foreign to the main plot of the play, as César unconsciously does much to aid the furtherance of Don Salluste's plot against the queen. The excellent last act is executed with all of Hugo's contagious lyric fervor...The best-drawn character in the play, and in fact one of the most striking of all Hugo's dramatic creations, is Don Salluste, a cold, calculating, polished, reserved, and yet withal explosive villain, a devil, in the garb of a grandee of Spain. The scene in the third act in which Don Salluste cruelly shatters the idealistic dreams of his lackey, Ruy Blas, is extremely effective” (Hamilton, 1903 p 181). “Don Salluste and Don Cesar, two representative Spanish noblemen, personify opposite reactions, respectively the corrupt will to power and wealth and the descent into dissipation, to the decadence into which Spain and her empire had fallen at the end of the seventeenth century” (Halsall, 1998 p 161). "The eponymous hero, a romantic character in the style of Hernani, is placed between...the queen, a typically passive heroine, and Don Salluste, as black a traitor as the boulevard of crime could have mustered...But quite apart from the quality of the verse...contemporary spectators must also have appreciated the traditional structure of a historical drama which made hardly any greater demands on the conservative taste of the theatre-going public than those of Delavigne or Soumet” (Howarth, 1994 p 93). "There is real pathos in the situation when the lackey, who has really fallen in love with the queen, kills himself to save her from calumny and dies happy in the knowledge of her forgiveness" (Wilson, 1937 pp 142-143). “It has been asked by critics and spectators why does not Ruy Blas, in the climax of Victor Hugo's Ruy Blas, either slay Don Salluste on his return or have him arrested...My contention is that the dreamer, Ruy Blas, was so infatuated by the presence of his master, who had returned so unexpectedly, that the hero could not recover his self-possession in time to take vigorous measures against the villain at this particular moment. Before he can have time to recover from the fascinating influence of the remarkable interview he has just had with his lover, this young dreamer, whose life, like that of Hamlet, is half a dream and half a reality, is suddenly startled and overpowered by the magnetic spell cast over him by the presence of his master...just as the peasant serves the nobleman, and bows down before him when he makes his appearance, so Ruy Blas obeys and serves Don Salluste” (Bruner, 1906 pp 162-166). "Ruy Blas, compelled by poverty, has become a nobleman's lackey. The love of a queen makes of this lackey a minister of state. He is fit for the position; he evolves and carries out great and noble plans; he is on the point of becoming the saviour of his country, when his past rises up against him. The disappointment of all his hopes is too much for him; he revenges himself like the man he was; he will not fight a duel with his master, but gets possession of his sword and kills the defenceless man with it" (Brandes, 1906 p 351). “Ruy Blas’ monologue in act 1, Don César’s comic wit...are superb poetry and drama. Especially in ‘Ruy Blas’, the political portrait of the hero is noble and persuasive” (Kashuba, 1986a p 969).

“A comparison of such plays as Hugo’s Hernani and Ruy Blas or Musset’s Lorenzaccio with, say, Byron’s or Shelley’s dramatic poems or with Tieck’s caprices only serves to show how far removed certain products of the French Romantic school are from the mainstream of European Romanticism. The vehemence, the worship of the great, forceful hero even ifa criminal, the historical setting, the declamatory style of the French dramas all proclaim their kin- ship with the early plays of Goethe and Schiller and with Shakespeare. Manfred, Cain and Prometheus Unbound, on the other hand, are remarkable for fine lyrical passages of real feeling, while Tieck’s plays and even the melodramas of Zacharias Werner abound in imagination. They are, however, less effective theatrically as dramas than the French plays be- cause the Romantic principles of feeling and imagination on which they are based, are inimical to the finite, objective character of the genre” (Furst, 1979 p 227).

“Hugo's drama...offers us poetical not rational persuasion, and it is surely a corollary of this that the greater the poetic potential of the linguistic vehicle, the more compelling the communication of this quality will be, not that the use need invalidate a play on this score: one has only to Lorenzaccio” (Howarth, 1976 p 255). “Victor Hugo as a dramatist is influenced from opposite sides. On the one hand, he feels the French tendency to drama of situation, on the other hand, as a devoted admirer of Shakespeare, and with a temperament overpoweringly democratic, he is attracted in the direction of romance. The result is what may be called the romantic drama of situation” (Moulton, 1921 p 421).

"Hernani"

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Ruy beholds his rival, Hernani, die along with their mutual love, Dona Sol. Woodcut drawing found in "Dramatic Works of Victor Hugo", translated by Frederick L Slous and Newton Crowland, 1923

Time: 16th century. Place: Spain and France.

Text at http://www.archive.org/details/Hernani

Out on a personal escapade, King Carlos V of Spain forces his way into the apartment of Dona Sol de Silva, soon to be married to her uncle, Ruy de Silva, duke of Pastrana. The king pays a female servant for the chance of hiding inside Sol's wardrobe and spying on her meeting with her lover, Hernani. The lovers meet joyfully, though Hernani bemoans her upcoming marriage with an "icy specter". She agrees to follow Hernani, though an outlaw, the next day at midnight. Hearing this, the king, also in love with Sol, rushes out and dares Hernani to fight. They cross swords until the servant announces the duke's surprise return. The duke rails on finding two young men in Sol's apartment at night when to the astonishment of all, the king reveals himself. He comes to announce to the duke the death of the emperor of Germany, a title he would like to claim for himself. Hernani has two reasons for hating the king: his love of Sol and revenge for a father killed by Carlos' father. The following night, Carlos imitates Hernani's signal to seize Sol, but she takes away his dagger till Hernani's arrival, his men having secured the king's followers. The king refuses to duel with a bandit, so that Hernani is forced to let him go, but now has second thoughts concerning his relation with Sol, having to offer her but "half the gallows". "I'll follow you; I wish for my part of your shroud," Sol assures him. But he must leave her on hearing general alarms, as officers of the law hunt for him and his troops. On their wedding day, Ruy assures Sol that though an old man's forehead has wrinkles, yet "in our heart there is none." A rumor circulates that Hernani is dead, but yet he enters the duke's palace disguised as a pilgrim. After seeing Sol re-enter with her wedding dress, he removes his disguise. None of the duke's servants dares claim the bounty on his head. The duke retires, expecting to marry within an hour. Hernani considers that after all she would be better off rich with the duke than dead like his companions, but despite the dangers, she desires to follow him. "You are my lion, superb and generous," she assures him. When the duke overhears his expected bride say she loves Hernani, he stares and advises his rival to tremble, but, on hearing of the king's arrival, lets Hernani go through a secret passage. The king knows Hernani is hiding in the duke's castle, which the duke admits. The king threatens to take Sol hostage unless his subject delivers the outlaw, but, since he is Hernani's host, whose duty is to protect any guest, he refuses. Yet Sol decides to follow the king, though with a hidden dagger on her person. After the two leave, Rey challenges Hernani to a duel for having affronted his hospitality, but lets him go when the latter reveals his majesty loves Sol and after he swears to yield up his life whenever desired. Rey need only blow his horn. At Aix-La-Chapelle, among a troop of revolting noblemen, Hernani draws the winning lot to kill the king, which Ruy pleads to take away from him in exchange for his life. "Do you render her?" Hernani asks. Ruy declines. Three cannon shots announce Carlos is the new emperor as he emerges out of Charlemagne's tomb. He and his followers disarm the rebels. He orders the execution of dukes and counts but spares the rest. Hernani reveals himself as Juan of Aragon and a duke. Sol reveals herself married to him, begging Carlos for her husband's life, which he grants as well as to all the rebels. Amid fanfare in Saragossa, Hernani and Sol celebrate as newlyweds till the bridegroom hears the fatal sound of the horn. Sol leaves for a moment as Rey, disguised as death, hands Hernani poison. She returns to beg once again for her husband's life, but this time she is refused. In despair, she grabs the poisoned vial, drinks half of it, and hands Hernani the rest, but, after a while, asks him to desist: "That poison is alive..." she cries in pain. Nevertheless, Hernani drinks his fill. After witnessing his loved one's death, Ruy follows the married couple in death.

"Ruy Blas"

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Played by Sarah Bernhardt (1844-1923), the queen discovers too late that she loves her servant, Ruy Blas

Time: 1690s. Place: Spain.

Text at http://www.archive.org/details/victorhugosdram00hugogoog https://archive.org/stream/greatplaysfrench00corn#page/n23/mode/2up

Don Sallusto, a marquis, has been exiled by the queen for refusing to marry one of her servants he seduced. Sallusto asks his cousin, Cesare, a count, to help him take revenge on her, but he refuses. Angry, Sallusto commands alguazils to seize Cesare and then arranges to have corsairs take him away to slavery. Still for purposes of revenge, he engages the faith of his servant, Ruy Blas, an old boon companion of Cesare. Since Ruy Blas’ face is unknown at court, Ruy takes over Cesare’s identity. Struck by the queen's demeanor, Ruy sends love-letters to her anonymously. Her husband, King Charles II, is often absent, loving above all to hunt. Being most often neglected, she enjoys reading these letters. When Ruy in the shape of Cesare presents himself before her, Don Guritan, a courtier, notices his infatuation and, out of jealousy, challenges him to a duel. On learning about this, the queen sends Guritan away. When several nobles meet to exchange mutual favors at the expense of Spain's interest, Ruy interrupts their conversation by commenting sarcastically: "A pleasant appetite, gentlemen," as if they were carving up their own country. He goes on to enumerate a long list of abuses they have been guilty of, for which her majesty, emerging from hiding, thanks him. Ruy is so moved by her compliments that he at last declares openly his love for her. The queen is pleased but fearful. "To all I am the queen, to you only a woman," she confesses. As she leaves, Sallusto suddenly appears in the form of a servant. Knowing Ruy's love for the queen, he hopes to compromise her. Ruy begins to fear for her safety at the hands of Sallusto, who threatens to reveal Ruy's true identity to the queen. Ruy is thus forced to say nothing. Unexpectedly, Cesare returns, having gained his freedom from the pirates. He is surprised to receive a sum of money from Sallusto, meant for Ruy. He also receives the visit of Guritan, returned from the queen's mission, looking to renew his purposed duel with Cesare. They quarrel and, in the ensuing duel, Cesare kills him. On seeing the unexpected return of Cesare, Sallusto becomes petrified. He commands alguazils to lead him away again, this time pretending he is a well-known thief. Meanwhile, Ruy begins to have qualms about his deceiving the queen for so long. Still fearing for her safety, he sends her a note to warn her not to leave the palace, but she does not receive it in time. The two are surprised by Sallusto, who proposes that she relinquish her title as queen and leave the kingdom in company of Ruy. But, tired of deceiving her, Ruy reveals at last his true identity and kills Sallusto. When he asks her pardon for deceiving her so long, she retorts: "never" . In despair, Ruy drinks a vial of poison. Taken unawares, the queen cries out her true feelings of deep love: "Ruy Blas!" For only crying out his name he thanks her as he sinks in death.

Alfred de Musset

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Alfred de Musset wrote two other major tragedies of the Romantic period. Portrait of the author by Charles Landelle (1812-1908), 1854

Alfred de Musset (1810-1857) also reached heights of Romantic tragedy with "Lorenzaccio" (1833), based on the life of Lorenzo De Medici (1449-1492), and "On ne badine pas avec l'amour" (No trifling with love, 1834). Like Hugo, Musset mixed comic with tragic elements, especially in the latter play.

"Lorenzaccio" is based on "The history of Florence" by Benedetto Varchi (1502-1565). The political situation was described by Fischer-Lichte (2002): "Florence is an occupied city. The pope and the Holy Roman emperor have imposed the pope’s illegitimate son, Alexander de Medici as ruler, against the will of the people, and have strengthened his position with German troops who reside in the citadel and control the city. Although the population grumbles about the wild ways of the depraved duke and the foreign occupation, they do not openly oppose it. Criticism is repeatedly voiced by the bourgeoisie, craftsmen and traders (I,2; I,5), and patriotic feeling and a mood in favour of a republic is gradually growing amongst the other powerful families in the city such as the Strozzis, the Pazzis and others. However, good business skills (I,2; II,4) and greed for influence and power (II,4) maintain the upper hand and suffocate any subversive movement in its seed. After Lorenzo’s deed has created the conditions for a republican uprising, it is the students who allow themselves to be shot down for citizens’ rights, while the great families and bourgeois middle classes do nothing. They willingly allow themselves to be manipulated by the secret agent of the pope, Cardinal Cibo, and vote unanimously for the candidate chosen by the pope and the Holy Roman emperor, Como de Medici. The murder of a tyrant and the change of power has altered nothing" (p 234). “The arrangement of scenes diverts our gaze from the singularity of the hero's endeavor to the multiplicity of the general movement. The play is divided into five acts and thirty-eight scenes. Each scene represents a change of locale, of character, formally supporting the sense of fragmentation, literally showing the city bit by bit” (Affron, 1971 p 201). Lorenzo’s identity seems to slip constantly between the masculine and the feminine. This is shown both in his changing name as well as in his changing physical appearance. He faints at a drawn dagger, sinks exhausted in sword-play, showing at the least a 'tender constitution'" (p 235-236). “The action of the cardinal...when he urges his brother’s wife to continue to continue to be the Duke’s mistress, after she has confessed to him that she has yielded, and threatens her with publicity on the ground of having seen things when he was in concealment in her rooms, which were such as to free him from the seal of confession, is altogether abominable, These scenes, however, arc quite subsidiary to the main movement of the play” (Oliphant, 1899 p 90). “Lorenzaccio at first believes that the assassination of the duke of Florence will free the city from the tyranny and oppression of the cruel Medici family. But Lorenzaccio's self imposed debauchery in order to achieve his aim destroys both his virtue and faith in humanity...The would-be republican reformers show themselves just as callous...as the Medici family which they seek to overthrow...In the light of such a discovery, he is compelled to make an agonizing reappraisal of his own predicament. Shall he carry out his plan to murder the duke or shall he attempt to withdraw into the background and retrieve whatever virtue and honesty he can? Like the Lorenzo de Medici of history, Musset's Lorenzo decides to continue in his role as apparent informer to Alessandro that he may assassinate him more readily when the time comes for action...The inspired action, the assassination of Alessandro, is in the end the only consolation which Lorenzaccio hopes to receive in payment for the disappointment and disillusionment which he has suffered. For it is through the act of murder alone that he achieves a kind of vengeance upon the particular society in which he has had to function" (Denommé, 1965 pp 139-143). “The literal prostitution of the women of Florence by the duke reifies Florence's metaphorical prostitution by its rulers: the duke, the pope and the emperor. Early in the play Florence is cursed by the banished Florentines as a [sterile mother] and by Lorenzo as a [slut]...Since Lorenzo commits the murder in secret and closes the body of the duke in the locked bedroom, he effectively deprives the assassination of any possible effect in the political sphere, where appearances, though sometimes deceiving, are everything” (McCready, 2003 pp 85-88). "Disillusionment and despair, and yet a yearning for an ideal, mark this play, which records, probably to a greater depth than any other work in France, one basic aspect of the moral crisis of the early nineteenth century, the ‘mal du siècle’" (Falk, 1958 p 37). "Lorenzo, by dint of simulating vice, and putting on evil like a borrowed garment, is at last impregnated with the evil he at first only assumes. The tunic steeped in the blood of Nessus has penetrated his skin and bones. The dialogue between Lorenzo and Philip Strozzi, a virtuous and honourable citizen, who merely sees things in their right and honest light, is one of startling truth. Lorenzo is conscious of having seen and experienced too much, of having ventured too far into the depths of life ever return. He realizes that he has introduced into his heart that implacable intruder, [boredom], which forces him without pleasure to do from habit and necessity what he at first essayed through affectation and pretence” (Sainte-Beuve, 1901 pp 27-28). In the view of romantics such as Sainte-Beuve, the character of Lorenzaccio appeared remarkable, Hamlet-like, less so in the view of realists. An example of the latter, Archer (1897), wrote that the character of Lorenzaccio appeared to him as a "vicious stripling...hollow-eyed and hectic with debauchery, his lip curled with a perpetual sneer at the world and himself, fanatical idealism and sick self-contempt seething like a hell-brew in his brain, and spurting forth in vitriolic jibes at all that in his heart he holds sacred. Hamlet may or may not be mad, Lorenzaccio certainly is. He has worked himself up into a delirium of cynicism. He revels morbidly in dissimulation for its own sake, and almost loses sight of the end with which he first entered upon it. His machinations are absurdly disproportionate to their object...At the last moment, he wantonly endangers the success of his designs out of sheer defiant cynicism. The thing would be childishly easy if he were capable of acting with sane resolution; as a matter of fact, he conducts himself so insanely that his success seems a miracle" (pp 188-189). “The figure of Lorenzaccio himself towers over the theater in 19th century France...In the early scenes, it is the vile aspect of his nature, those which form his fellow citizens’ image of him, that are presented...a loathsome corrupter...a drunken blasphemous brawler...an atheist who jeers at everything, the duke’s pander...he betrays his fellow citizens...and [is] carried away swooning at the sight of a drawn sword...[Then he shows more positive aspects]. He tries to deflect the duke’s interest away from his aunt...[admires Petro Strozzi for attacking Salviati]...steals the duke’s protective coat of mail...speaks of his vengeance...grieves at the city’s sufferings at the duke’s hands...The complete opposite of the usual verbose Romantic hero, he is laconic to Filippo’s probing until finally he is spurred on into revealing why men should beware of ‘the demon who whispers of liberty’...Love of humanity was one of his motives, but so too was pride, which dictated that his murder bid must be a solo performance...driving him on to murder a man who was kind to him...In his exile, his cynicism remains and his gloom is intensified...The city of Florence is failing to seize the chance he dedicated himself to” (Rees, 1971 121-125). “Lorenzo has been feigning, wearing a mask of corruption in order to gain the intimacy and confidence of his cousin, the duke...But as he confesses to Filippo and as his actions have revealed, the role he assumed has ended up in penetrating his character in insidious ways: he has become imbued with vice and excess...Lorenzo is determined to go through with the plot [though] he knows it will be in vain...The second plot is linked to the first [in] the friendship between Lorenzo and Filippo Strozzi, the patriarch of the Strozzi clan...devoted to the principles of justice and liberty...The protagonist of the third plot, Ricciarda Cebo, never meets either Lorenzo or Filippo during the course of the action...Alexander’s murder becomes a pure act of revenge on Alexander for making Lorenzo what he is, on Lorenzo himself for allowing himself to become alienated from his former purity, on the world for disillusioning him and making his act objectively meaningless...The three plots, in spite of their similarity, remain totally isolated from each other on the level of action, even mutually exclusive in a positive way (Ricciarda’s regeneration of Alexander would naturally be frustrated by his murder at Lorenzo’s hands)...Lorenzo’s act of murder frustrates Pietro’s designs; Filippo’s retreat destroys any hope for Pietro to rally the exiles against Florence” (Sices, 1974 pp 116-138). “Tebaldeo admits that in the presence of such masters as Raphael and Michelangelo his own stature is small indeed. Lorenzo is moved by Tebaldeo’s humility and instantly recognizes a fraternity between himself and the painter who can only partially realize his vision” (Baroody, 1986 p 1407). “There would seem to like only one ‘Lovelace’ character of any importance in Musset”s theatre: Alexandre de Médecis in 'Lorenzaccio'. Julien Salvati in the same play is another, but only a minor character” (Thomas, 1988 p 163).

In "No trifling with love" "we are shown the tragedy of love and the retribution which comes to those who trifle with it. The sombre side is contrasted with the fantastic characters of pedantic tutor, shrewish governess and drunken parish-priest, as well as by the fanciful comments of the villagers acting the part of an ancient chorus” (Wright, 1925 p 706). The play "is perhaps the most characteristic of Musset's dramas. In none other are tenderness and passion so strangely blended with mockery, in none other is the full value shown of a method which unites an intensity almost Shakspearian to a heat of imaginative expression suggestive of Byron, and a serious and cynical humour the direct bequest of Heine" (Knight, 1893 p 273).“Perdican runs counter to most Romantic heroes in that he presents the picture of psychological health. By the end of the play, Perdican has contributed to his own tragedy through lacking the wisdom to realize the dangers of tampering with another’s emotions, but in the first scenes he seems the ideal young nobleman- unspoiled by his learning, showing affection for the scenes and acquaintances of his childhood, simple and modest, full of charm, gentleness, and warmth...Yet there is a worldliness about him which seems to justify Camille’s worst fears...The walking contradiction that is Camille leaves him baffled for much of the play, both as to her true feelings and his own...In the explanatory scene by the fountain...Musset gives a masterly picture of the swiftly changing reactions to Camille’s words- disgust, indignation, sympathy, and ardent statement of his own beliefs. Finally, he becomes locked with Camille in a frantic duel of false pride which is resolved too late to save either Rosette’s life or the couple’s happiness” (Rees, 1971 pp 120-121). "Rebounding from a cold, critical Camille, he finds not only Rosette but a reflection of his cousin in the past. However, on one occasion, the illusion becomes translucent to Perdican. He is moved by the reflection of his memories in Rosette, the village folk, and the setting, but he is disconsolate because of their meaninglessness for Camille. The contrast strikes a painful emotional chord, and Perdican mourns the past...Camille regards him as an experienced man of the world. In confessing a number of love affairs and in rejecting the sanctity of marriage, Perdican gives evidence of a double identity. He is a libertine (philosopher-seducer) and a Romantic hero (lover-child)...Their double identities, libertine/lover and coquette/lover, expose the childlike qualities of Perdican and Camille and verify the extent to which, despite appearances, they are indeed cousins. At crucial moments in the conflict, each doubts not only the sincerity of the other but is unsure also of his own feelings" (Hamilton, 1985 pp 821-822). “Their two backgrounds are the basis of the drama. Camille reflects no spiritual guidance, for Musset sees in convent associations only a menace to life and happiness. The convent denies the strongest tenet of Perdican's creed, that the union of man and woman, imperfect humans though they may be, is the one sublime thing on earth.8 If Perdican and Camille worship anything, it is, for him, the human relationship of man and woman, for her, the self-righteous abnegation of such relationship” (Ihrig, 1950 p 112). At the start, “Camille refuses to share Perdican's nostalgia for their lost childhood. He seeks to escape the present by substituting a version of the past; her means of escape is the cloister. Both methods will prove faulty. In Act I it is Camille's rebuttal of sentiment which seems reprehensible. She rejects all that is dear to them both, a costly betrayal of identity which provokes the play's badinage. This first betrayal initiates a series of gestures that tie the lovers in a guilt which bears out the title's warning…Perdican gives her the choice of three trips quite literally down memory lane: the field, the boat and the path itself. Camille remains locked in her convent, unwilling to follow Perdican's lead…Perdican sought his former self at the play's outset. Rosette is a child-like projection of Camille. The hero's revenge is worked out to exploit the scheme of doubles. Two identities, two images are juxtaposed, but they are not congruent. This is the secret brought to surface by the plot. Perdican's imagination cannot turn Camille into Rosette, nor can it do the reverse” (Affron, 1971 pp 184-192). “Camille is a passionate woman whose thirst for love and genuine tenderness are countered by an ardent idealism and her fear of disappointment...Perdican is a...headstrong young nan who genuinely loves his cousin, and seeks the calm, durable values that the village and its peasants represent, yet he is too jealous of his freedom, too piqued by Camille’s insistence to be willing to give guarantees or to swear fidelity” (Sices, 1974 pp 94-95). “The baron, though father and uncle to the protagonists, is essentially a bewildered and frustrated observer of the course of events, signifying his impotence by reiterating after each report that comes in to him: "that is impossible’ or ‘that is incredible’. Blazius and Bridaine, far from exerting any effect on the central dramatic progression, seem to carry out an unrelated action, a burlesque epic sub-plot having to do with the gaining or losing of honors at the baron's copious table. And Dame Pluche, a dried-out caricature of Camille's devoutness and prudery, is ironically limited in her action to the role of unwilling and ineffectual go-between. Although all these puppet figures spend their time discussing and reporting on the actions of the protagonists, their bewilderment suggests to us that they live in another world, utterly separate from the emotional and spiritual goings-on of the real characters...The fact that it is Bridaine, in the first case, and Blazius, in the second, who narrate the events in question is of the utmost importance. Both narratives affect the status of the speakers, for better or for worse, in the baron's bewildered eyes; and both con- tribute to the latter's sense of confusion and futility in regard to the complex drama that is unfolding under his roof, in spite of his plans. The narratives thus contribute to the development of the trivial sub-plot being acted out by the grotesque characters, in echo to the real drama. But at the same time, they serve an inverse function of distancing in relation to the protagonists. The audience must look at the latter more objectively, see them not only as they themselves, our hearts, and the author's sympathy see them, but also as the indifferent world, the heartless marionettes (thus our wit), and the author's irony perceive them...In the case of Camille, it is the ‘facticious being’ or ‘borrowed personage’ which Masson astutely sees as her flaw (rather than the traditionally noted pride). Like many of Musset's central characters, she has a combination of immaturity and precocious disillusion: in this case, through the vicarious experience of Sister Louise, her older confidant...It is only at the end of the play that the two halves of her character are momentarily reintegrated. Perdican, too, is a character in quest of his integrity, even more consciously than Camille. He has returned not so much in search of a bride as in search of his past. Seeking the sweet comfort of ‘the forgetfulness of what we know’, he wishes to reintegrate his present, doctoral and experienced self with the innocent joy of his youth. Perdican seeks a harmonization of all the conflicting forces within him, a unity that will reconcile the contradictions of which his experience in time has made him conscious. That is why, in a significant inversion of the Baron's characteristic formula of intellectual rigidity, Musset has him reply ‘that is possible’ to Camille's remark that he has contradicted him- self, in the culminating scene of the second act (II, 5). Perdican's most ardent desire is to keep for himself the flexibility, the availability which will make it possible for all these contradictions to form a unity across time” (Sices, 1970 pp 444-447).

"Lorenzaccio"

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Lorenzo De Medici (1449-1492) is in a major conflict with his cousin. Painting of Lorenzaccio by Bronzino (1503-1572)

Time: 16th century. Place: Florence, Italy.

Text at http://www.archive.org/details/completewritings04mussiala http://www.archive.org/details/completewritings03mussiala

Alessandro de Medici, duke of Florence, with the help of Lorenzo de Medeci, his cousin, is waiting for a girl he paid for. Lorenzaccio suggests she is worth the waiting. "What a violent flow of a magnificent river underneath this layer of fragile ice, cracking at each step!" he exclaims. They head towards her garden pavilion. Seeing his sister on her away, Maffio wants to prevent it, but is stopped by one of the duke's men. He wishes to complain to the duke, but discovers that it is the duke who is taking her away. In the duke's palace, Lorenzaccio quarrels with Maurizio, a gentleman, but when the duke offers his cousin a sword, he is seized with anxiety, feels ill, and faints, to the duke's amusement. In Soderini's palace, his uncle, Bindo Altoviti, and Venturi, a gentleman, wish to know from Lorenzaccio whether he will join their conspiracy against the duke. Suddenly, the duke enters in their midst. Lorenzaccio invents good excuses for their presence, to their profit, a promotion as ambassador of Rome for the first and privileges for his cloth business for the other. They accept. Alessandro announces he has obtained the favors of the marquise of Cibo. Now he has an eye on Lorenzaccio's aunt, Catherine. In his palace, Alessandro serves as a model for a portrait while Lorenzaccio takes his coat of mail and wonders off to throw it in a well. One of the duke's men, Salviati, covered in blood, appears under his window, revealing that Pietro Strozzi and his brother, Tomaso, attacked him after he said their sister loved the duke. The duke orders their arrest. After seeing her poisoned to death by one of Salviati's men, the Strozzi family rise to liberate them. To favor Catherine's seduction, Lorenzaccio proposes his own bedroom. Freed from prison, Pietri and Tomaso return to their house only to learn of their sister's death by poison. In hope of wordly advantages, the cardinal of Cibo scolds his sister-in-law for being unable to hold her lover for more than three days. "Have you not read Aretino?" he asks sarcastically. The marquise counters by charging him of debauchery and sycophancy. "To govern Florence by governing the duke, you would soon turn yourself into a woman for him, if you could," she asserts. Unheeding the cardinal's appeal to return to her husband, she reveals her adultery with the duke to her husband and then, overcome by her emotion, faints. On the night proposed for the duke's murder, Lorenzaccio warns three noblemen to prepare for a change in government, but none of them believe he is capable of it. Having heard Lorenzaccio has horses prepared and that he intends killing his cousin, a report supported by Maurizio, the cardinal warns the duke about him, but he dismisses their warnings and follows his cousin to his bedroom, where Lorenzaccio takes his sword and scabbard and tangles them up behind his back. As the duke stretches out in bed, Lorenzaccio kills him. On learning the news in the duke's palace, noblemen worry that the people will seize this opportunity to revolt, so that Cosimo de Medici is hurriedly elected as the new duke. By the duke's death, the Strozzi conspiracy peters out, as do republican sentiments throughout the duchy, except for a small rising of students, when a hundred of them are massacred. In the continuing tumult, Lorenzaccio is assassinated and his carcass dragged into a lagoon. The cardinal gives the ducal crown to Cosimo de Medici on behalf of Pope Paul III and Emperor Charles V.

"No trifling with love"

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By trifling with her affections, Perdican causes Rosette's death. Death of a maiden (1932) painting by Adolf Hering (1863-1932)

Time: 1830s. Place: France.

Text at http://www.archive.org/details/completewritings03mussiala https://archive.org/details/writingsmusset03mussiala https://archive.org/details/in.ernet.dli.2015.95332

The baron wishes to marry his son, Perdican, returning from Paris with a doctor's degree, to his niece, Camille, "out of the best convent in France", so that both may live with him in his castle, but in their first meeting since childhood, the baron is disappointed by the coolness of her replies and her refusal to kiss him. After dinner, Blazius, his steward, reports that Bridaine, the curate, is a drunkard, which the baron considers impossible, but Blazius' own breath "smells horribly of wine", he notices. For his part, Bridaine reports he saw Perdican skip stones over the water with village children, another thing the baron finds it impossible to believe till seeing it with his own eyes. When Camille meets her cousin, she says: "I came to recover my mother's possessions; I will return tomorrow to the convent." But before going, she asks Pluche, her governess, to carry a letter to him. Bridaine is sorrowful that Blazius has taken his place next to the baron, so that when it is his turn to eat "there will remain around the partridges neither cabbage nor carrots". Perdican becomes friendly with Camille's foster sister, Rosette, kissing her often and, on one occasion, leaving a tear on her hand. Blazius furnishes a second report for the baron, whereby Pluche is said to refuse conveying a love-letter, which the baron finds incomprehensible and impossible to believe. And to whom? One who flirts with a keeper of turkeys. Meanwhile, Camille assigns a second meeting with her cousin. She offers him her hand and kisses him, only to reveal she intends to become a nun. "How long did you love the one you loved the most?" she queries. He does not remember. She asks his opinion about whether she should stay in the convent, to which he first answers no then yes. By her convent anecdotes, he wonders whether she believes in anything. She wants eternal love, at the moment the one on the crucifix she wears. Does he believe in love? "Here you are, bent near me, knees used up with kneeling on your mistresses' rugs, and you no longer know their names," she accuses. He counters that, having loved, he can at least say he lived. Soon after, Blazius is chased away from the baron's house for stealing a bottle of wine and for his suspicious accusations. He complains to Bridaine, overjoyed at this piece of news. When Blazius meets Pluche, he threatens to murder her unless she yields him a letter from Camille. Perdican prevents their dispute and seizes the letter, addressed to a nun in her convent, in which she writes that, despite her attempts at disgusting him, Perdican will never be consoled by her loss. He is so offended by this suggestion that he decides to flirt with Rosette in the same place where he usually meets Camille. With Camille hiding behind a tree, he confesses his love to Rosette, gives her a golden chain, throws Camille's ring into a fountain, and asks her to marry him. As a result, Camille tells Pluche she will not enter the convent after all. Bridaine announces to the baron that Perdican has given his golden chain to a peasant-girl, an absurd story which yet upsets the baron. Camille guesses that Perdican intercepted her letter. To prove Perdican lied to Rosette, she suggests that the girl hide while speaking to him. "I would like to be courted-" Camille tells Perdican, and gives him the ring she recovered. Perdican is surprised. She then asks him: "Are you sure that everything in a woman lies when her tongue is lying?" Perdican says he never lies and that he loves her, at which point Camilla lifts the tapistry, revealing Rosette who unexpectedly has fainted. Camille next discloses Perdican's supposed love of Rosette to the baron. Affronted at the misalliance, he asks her to tell his son the following: "I have abandoned myself to grief, to see him marry a girl without a name." Camille is also convinced that the marriage is wrong for him and tells him so, calling it "a joke". For her part, Rosette requests Perdican on her knees to desist from any further marriage talk, because, in the village, she has become a laughing-stock, everyone being convinced that he and Camille love each other and are amusing themselves at her expense, which he denies. While at church, Camille finds herself unable to pray. "Pride, most fatal of human counselors, why did you come between this girl and me?" Perdican wonders. Indeed, the two turned love, that "inestimable jewel", into "a toy", but now recognize their mistake and kiss, after which a loud scream is heard behind the altar. Camillo goes to find out what it is, Perdican praying it is not what he thinks it is. She returns to say in two sentences that Rosette is dead and that she bids him farewell.

Alfred de Vigny

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Alfred de Vigny wrote a biographical drama on the life of Thomas Chatterton, the English poet. Portrait of de Vigny by François Kinson (1771–1839)

Alfred de Vigny (1797-1863) reached tragic heights with "Chatterton" (1835), based on the life of the poet, Thomas Chatterton (1752-1770) and taken from Vigny's own novel, "Stello" (1832).

In "Chatterton", "the characters, as critics have pointed out, are personifications of ideas, types; Kitty Bell, of innocent and downtrodden womanhood; John Bell, of selfish brutal materialism; the Lord Mayor, Beckford, of the harshness of society; the Quaker is the spokesman of the author. The dialogue, though Vigny stresses the importance of simple and natural language, is not especially life-like. The touching nascent love between Chatterton and Kitty Bell is perhaps the most human part. But Vigny’s interest was elsewhere. A theme dear to his generation, and particularly dear to Vigny, was the isolation of genius” (Henning, 1935 p 322-323). The play "was the more strikingly effective when it was produced because no drama of pure thought was known to the audience which witnessed it. Classics and romantics alike filled their stage with violent action; this was a play of poignant interest, but that interest was entirely intellectual. The mystical passion of Chatterton and Kitty Bell is subtle, silent, expressed in thoughts; here were brought before the footlights 'infinite passion and the pain of finite hearts that yearn' without a sigh (Gosse, 1905 p 22).

"Chatterton and the young quakeress whom he loves have appropriated every single noble quality of mind and soul; around them there is nothing but coarseness, cold-heartedness, prose, and stupidity. What we are shown is the cruel treatment of the intellectual genius by the coarse, earth-bound world around him" (Brandes, 1906 p 349). "The interest of the play lay in the analysis of the mind of the young poet who, finding his genius unrecognised, gave up the struggle for life and was speedily followed to the grave by Kitty Bell, the misunderstood wife of his coarse-fibred landlord. The idea that poets should be allowed to follow their bent untrammelled by social duties or the sordid cares of life was bound to be popular with the Romantics. But most of them would have treated the subject far more hysterically than Vigny. In his play deeds took second place to ideas and the struggle went on within the tortured mind of the central figure. The fact that Chatterton was too much of a weakling to hold the spectator’s sympathy mars the play, but the fault lies rather in the nature of the subject than with Vigny" (Wilson, 1937 p 144).

“Vigny consciously produced a problem play before the expression itself was used as a term of dramatic criticism. Many dramatists before him had written eloquent prefaces to show how their plays taught morality by stripping vice of its mask and rewarding virtue. Social problems had been mirrored more or less consciously. But no dramatist had so clearly stated his problem, and deliberately reduced the plot to a bare skeleton in order to spend all the time on the moral action…the dash of spirituality and materialism. The spiritual world is represented by Chatterton, Kitty Bell, her children, and the quaker. John Bell is the successful industrialist, surrounded by young lords who live riotously and see in Kitty only a woman to seduce. The Lord Mayor is the personification of a thankless national government which sees in a poet only a worthless citizen” (Stuart, 1960 pp 526-527).

“In Chatterton there is very little use of external means to carry on the plot. A certain letter to the Lord- Mayor of London, the gift of a Bible from Chatterton to the children of Kitty Bell: these are of but slight importance in the intrigue. The drama is wholly within, in the minds and hearts of Kitty and Chatterton...It is the drama of the individual against society, of the heaven-sent poet against the earth-born bourgeois, of helpless genius against all- powerful dullness” (Lacey, 1928 p 45).

"Poetry, which distinguishes Chatterton from others and raises him above them, is at the same time the source of his tragedy...This experience separates him from his fellow men, isolates him and turns him into a kind of leper...The society into which Chatterton is born has not the slightest sensitivity, however, to the poet’s calling. The only quality society values is money. John Bell represents the credo of a calculated rationale, a utilitarian positivism...For [ordinary citizens], poetry is at best ‘entertainment’ (II,3). But since ‘the most beautiful muse in the world is not enough to nourish a man’ (III,6), such a muse is ultimately ‘useless’, as ‘the most honest and one of the most enlightened men in London’ (III,2), the Lord Mayor of London, remarks. He denies the social mission of the poet and instead of a privileged position in society, offers Chatterton the post of chief valet in his household" (Fischer-Lichte, 2002 pp 222-223).

"Separation of mind and body is the hinge of the play. It for instance, the inclusion of the industrial accident incident introduces Tobie's disablement and consequent merciless dismissal by Bell for the sole purpose of drawing a parallel between Tobie's acquired non-productivity and society's dismissal of Tom for the same reasons. Ironically, the worker, who has always lived according to the materialistic code, does not even have the option given to Skinner, the Shylock who has accepted his body as chattel mortgage for his debts. Kitty has mixed reactions to Tom: she does not hesitate to sustain him physically, even by setting money aside for him illicitly and sending the children to him with fruit, but she is afraid of him intellectually. The fear is figuratively presented in the play by means of the vicissitudes of the Bible, which is shuttled about among Tom, Kitty, and the children. As Tom abandons his body, he commends his spirit to heaven and correspondingly disembodies his thoughts and poetry by destroying his papers...(III, 5). By maliciously offering Tom a job as his valet rather than government sponsorship as a poet, Beckford consciously denies the value of Tom's mind and asserts that his only possible value to society is physical" (Dale, 1965 pp 136-137).

"Chatterton"

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Thomas Chatterton was tormented by his love of a married woman. Engraving of the poet by William Ridgway (1830-1900) after a picture by William Morris (1834-1896), published in The Art Journal, 1875
Played by Marie Dorval (1796-1849) in a picture by Jacques Arago (1790-1854), Kitty Bell is unable to help Chatterton, 1835

Time: 1770s. Place: England.

Text at ?

A medical doctor and quaker living in the house of the manufacturer, John Bell, complains of his cruelty and indifference towards the condition of the workers. John retorts that the workers are lazy. The quaker mentions one who lost his arm while working on one of his machines. "Yes," John retorts, "and he even broke it." When John asks his wife, Kitty, to let him verify the house accounts, he finds six guineas unaccounted for. She pretends not to know why; it concerns a secret gift to another lodger, Thomas Chatterton, the poet. Of this man, both John and the quaker complains. "In you, continuous daydreaming has killed action," the quaker affirms. "What does it matter," Thomas retorts, "if one hour of this daydreaming produces more works than twenty days of action by others?" He himself with his poetry "wishes to add one pearl more to the English crown", although considering poetry "a harmful fairy found no doubt in my rocker, the distraction". The quaker also worries that Thomas has turned away from religion, but Thomas assures him he is as harmless as a child. One day, Thomas' Oxford companion, Lord Talbot, accompanied by other lords, greets him volubly at Bell's house. Kitty dislikes the way Talbot addresses her. But since Talbot is a lord, John encourages his wife to make much of him. After mentioning to Thomas that these lords must be surprised to see him in so simple a house, he seems hurt. "Had one asked me to know my fortune, my name, and my life's history, I would never have entered," Thomas declares. After this visit, he appears progressively more despairing. One day, the quaker finds him with a vial filled with opium. "You do well to follow your project," the quaker sarcastically affirms, "because that will rejoice your rivals...You do well to leave them your part of the empty bone of glory you all gnaw on." Thomas answers he has written to a friend of Talbot, the lord-mayor of London, about his wretched condition. The quaker approves of this decision, later declaring to the Bells and Talbot: "The only resource still left to Chatterton is his protection." But the mayor's proposal displeases Thomas, as does his person, and he no longer wishes to continue writing. Instead, he drinks the contents of the vial and begins tearing up his papers as Kitty enters the house. Thomas reveals his love of her, at which she fearfully comments: "Ah, sir, if you say so, it is because you wish to die." She watches him reel upstairs towards his room. The quaker rapidly discovers what is wrong and climbs the stairs after him, followed by Kitty. What she beholds up there shakes her so much that she falls downstairs and so the quaker is left bemoaning two deaths in the house.

Marie-Joseph Chénier

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Marie-Joseph Chénier described the woes attending the reign of the Roman emperor, Tiberius. Engraving of the author in a centenary album, 1889

In verse tragedy, Marie-Joseph Chénier (1764-1811) excelled in "Tibère" (Tiberius, 1819, written in 1805) based on "The annals of ancient Rome" by Tacitus (58-120) and mainly concerned with the life and death of Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso (44-43 BC-20 AD) during the reign (14-37 AD) of the Roman emperor, Tiberius (42 BC-37 AD).

“The subject is drawn from the Annals of Tacitus, and has followed the main outlines of the story, adding however the part of Cneius, to which he gives considerable significance in the plot...In the first two acts of the play, Chénier expresses the conflict between justice and human force. He also suggests the discrepancy between truth as seen by partial human minds, and the disclosure of facts [that] would build up the living picture of history. He suggests through his characters that there is a pressure from the invisible world upon the living and the shade of Germanicus is dimly felt by both Agrippine and Pison. In the third act the human motives of the principal characters begin to appear: Tibère's jealousy of his adopted son Germanicus, and Agrippine's fierce defence of his glory and then in the scene between Tibère and Pison, Tibère's resolve to let the letter of the law rid him of Pison. Pison on the other hand is determined on a public exposure if he is not supported by Tibère, whose orders he has carried out in ridding Tibère of Germanicus. Here is the crux of the play. The antagonists both know that only a day stands between them and the decision...The first impression made on the mind of the reader by this fine play is regret for the conventional use of the classic formula in phrasing and language which obscures its deeper qualities. We have echoes of Racine, especially in the suggestion of the mysterious shadowy presence of Germanicus, in the insistence on the moments and hours of decision, which are marked in proportion to the depths of the tragedy. We have echoes of Corneille in the character of Cneius, and in the treatment of the scenes of conflict where the attack and riposte are in single lines, echoes too of Voltaire in the large and vague descriptions and the occasional banal expressions. But as the play moves on, it becomes evident that Chénier has made full use of the methods of emotional appeal and spectacular effect. The silent groups of senators, the procession of lictors and soldiers, surround the main action and dramatise its effect in gesture and feeling. The character-drawing is remarkable and the development of the characters under the pressure of the tragedy brings about the dénouement. The action is, in effect, staged between the present circumstances, where the people have forgotten their heritage of justice and liberty, and are too easily moved by the machinations of a Sejan, and another world which holds the menace of retribution for crime, and from which the unseen influence of Germanicus presses into the minds of the actors” (Jourdain, 1921 pp 148-150).

"Tiberius"

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Tiberius is unable to cover up the truth concerning Germanicus's death. Bust of the emperor at the Louvre museum

Time: 20 AD. Place: Rome.

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Under orders from the Roman emperor, Tiberius, a senator named Piso led an army against Germanicus, the emperor's stepson imposed on him by his predecessor, Augustus Caesar. Germanicus was killed. Knowing that many people are enraged at the death of this noble warrior and pity the victim's wife, Agrippina, Tiberius seeks to cover up his involvement by sacrificing Piso. The emperor's favorite, Sejanus, declares that at least one senator will agree to prosecute and condemn Piso. "His willingness to please makes all his conscience," Sejanus assures the emperor. Confronted with the sight of Agrippina leading in Germanicus' remains, Tiberius does not defend Piso and no senator dares to contradict. Only Piso's son, Cneus, does so. Alone with the emperor, Agrippina requests his protection on behalf of her sons, whom she fears may be murdered, too, but he refuses. Although Piso knows that the senators are basely submissive to the emperor, he possesses written proof of the emperor's order to kill Germanicus. He assures Tiberius he will use it to defend himself. Anxious over this threat, Tiberius commands Sejanus to kill him and to bring him Cneus. He promises Cneus honors and his love, but the young man chooses instead to place his hopes on Agrippina, begging her to drop all charges. Recognizing that the main guilty party is the emperor, not Piso, she acquiesces. Nevertheless, Piso considers himself guilty, since he knew that Germanicus was treacherously poisoned by a slave. He rejects Agrippina's pardon and wants to declare his guilt and Tiberius' crime. Confident of the senate's vote of condemnation, Sejanus nourishes hopes that Piso's friends will seek revenge on Agrippina and her faction. When Agrippina requests Piso's pardon, Tiberius refuses and asks the senate to judge him. Sejanus enters with a bloody knife, pretending that Piso committed suicide though he did not. Cneus removes the knife from him. "My father was guilty but Tiberius even more so," Cneus affirms before stabbing himself to death.

Casimir Delavigne

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Casimir Delavigne reached a high level of dramatic power in describing the woes of a pariah in India. Drawing of the author by Marie-Alexandre Alophe (1812-1883) after Henry Scheffer (1798-1862)

More than Hugo and Musset, Casimir Delavigne (1793-1843) approached Racine's manner with "Le paria" (The pariah, 1821). “Casimir Delavigne...was a classicist, but he endeavored, in some of his plays, to combine the ideas of the Romantic school with those of the Classical” (Fortier, 1913 p 140).

Despite nearness to the neo-classic manner, Evans (1932) pointed out resemblances between Idamore and Hernani. “Both heroes are outcasts, although Hernani is eventually restored to his birthright. Both describe themselves as 'montagnards', and savor of the mountain and the flood. Both are separated from the woman of their choice by apparently insuperable obstacles (Idamore is a pariah, Neala a priestess; Hernani is an exile, Dona Sol a noblewoman; Idamore is the enemy of Neala's father, who is the High Priest; Hernani is the enemy of the king, and becomes the enemy of Dona Sol's uncle and guardian). Both triumph over these obstacles, and marry their beloved. Both forgive their enemies. Both forget their duty to their father, and finally Nemesis overtakes each in the same way, Idamore being taken away during the wedding ceremony to die a victim of the religious fanaticism of Neala's father, and Hernani perishing on the wedding night, a martyr to the zeal of Dona Sol's uncle for the honor of the Silva family" (p 515).

"The pariah"

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When Neala learns that Idamore is a pariah, she rushes to Brahma's statue as if to seek his help in warding him off. Brahma's statue in Indonesia

Time: 1820s. Place: The woods near Benares, India.

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Idamore, leader of a band of warriors successful in their defense of followers of Brahma, the Hindu God of creation, reveals to his friend, Alvar, a Portuguese Christian arrived for the purpose of conversion, but now almost a prisoner, that he is a pariah, an avoided and detested group in India. But he does not reveal this to his intended, Neala, priestess of Brahma, expected to be married by her father, Akebar. To Idamore's astonishment, Akebar wants to marry his daughter to him. Neala is elated at these news. "His power changes guilty ardor into pious duty," he says of Akebar. Unable to deceive her further, Idamore discloses he is a pariah. She runs to Brahma's statue and clings to it. "Their name is fatal, odious," she declares, "it would sully the pure air we breathe in this place." She first asks him to go away, but then changes her mind. "Everything is pain to me," Idamore states, "even hope." Idamore's father, Zares, arrives and asks his son to leave with him. Idamore accepts, but wants to see Neala one more time. Zares threatens to tell all should he fail him. Idamore asks Neala to leave immediately after the wedding. She is surprised but willing to do so. Zares is soon discovered as a pariah condemned by Akebar to death. Idamore can no longer remain silent, revealing himself as the pariah's son. A jury convened by Akebar condemns Idamore to be stoned to death and Zares to be exiled and cared for by Alvar. In distress as to Idamore's fate, Alvar asks Idamore concerning his father: "You leave him with a son: who will give me back a brother?" As Zares is set to go, he learns from Alvar of his son's imminent death. Witnessing to their horror Alvar's loyalty to the pariah, the people kill both Idamore and Alvar. Neala is exiled. She decides to follow Idamore's father. A weeping Akebar curses his daughter for being disloyal to him and religion.

Etienne de Jouy

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Etienne de Jouy described the life of Belisarius, who defended the Byzantine emperor, Justinian, despite being cruelly mistreated by him. Portait of the author by an unknown artist

In a similar style to Delavigne, Etienne de Jouy (1764-1846) wrote "Bélisaire" (Belisarius, 1818) concerning the life of Belisarius (502-565 AD), a Roman soldier who defended the Byzantine emperor, Justinian (482-565 AD, reign: 527-565 AD), from his enemies.

Historic sources indeed indicate that Belisarius worked prominently under Justinian’s orders. As described in Edward Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1776-1788, chapter 41), Belisarius “equalled or excelled the ancient masters of the military art. Victory, by sea and land, attended his arms. He subdued Africa, Italy, and the adjacent islands, led away captives the successors of Genseric and Theodoric, filled Constantinople with the spoils of their palaces, and in the space of six years recovered half the provinces of the Western empire. In his fame and merit, in wealth and power, he remained without a rival, the first of the Roman subjects; the voice of envy could only magnify his dangerous importance and the emperor might applaud his own discerning spirit, which had discovered and raised the genius of Belisarius.” Belisarius indeed had a wife named Antonina and Justinian a wife named Theodora, but Berasius combated the Vandals, the Moors, the Goths, and the Persians, but not the Thracians (a part of Bulgaria). Moreover, the characters of Eudoxia and Thelesis were invented by Jouy, as was the blinding of Belisarius by Theodora’s servants and Belisarius’ companion of his exploits was named Procopius, not Marcius. Nevertheless, as indicated by both Jouy and Gibbon, Antonina accompanied Belarius “with undaunted resolution in all the hardships and dangers of a military life” (Gibbon). Belisarius indeed incurred ungrateful Justinian’s unjust anger, but was rehabilitated by Antonina’s intervention, not by conquest over an enemy.

"Belisarius"

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Belisarius remains loyal to his master despite being blinded by his wife. Mosaic of Belisarius at the basilica of San Vitale, Ravenna, Italy

Time: 6th century AD. Place: Thrace.

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Based on false information, the Byzantine emperor, Justinian, orders the arrests of Belisarius despite his many services in the past. The latter's friend, Marcius, protects Antonina and Eudoxia, wife and daughter, respectively, of the maligned soldier. To redress their fortunes, Antonina's hope rests on her daughter's marriage to Thelesis, king of Bulgaria. She is gratified after hearing Eudoxia loves Thelesis. She hears more good news from Marcius, who reveals that Belisarius has been set free by Justinian's wife, Theodora, fearful of the people's rage at his arrest while Justinian joins his army in Thrace. But before releasing him, she orders him to be blinded. When Antonina rejoins her husband, she is dismayed on learning he refuses the proposed marriage, loyal to the emperor despite being blinded by his wife. To win Belisarius to his side, Thelesis proposes to overthrow Justinian and place the emperor's crown on Belisarius' head, but the soldier refuses such an honor, preferring yet again to remain loyal to the emperor. Despite her love of the king, Eudoxia immediately accepts her father's decision. In addition, two chiefs of Roman legions, Valerius and Phocas, long working under his orders, agree to fight on Belisarius' side against Thelesis' army. In the confusion of the battle, Justinian becomes separated from his troops when he is discovered by Eudoxia and Belisarius. Justinian is abashed on learning of Belisarius' loyalty despite his wrongs. "You conserve still the light of the soul," he declares, "and just your presence, arbiter of hazards, will yield victory to the eagle of Caesars." To join her father's side, Eudoxia prepares to leave Thelesis, but the king refuses to release her. After fierce fighting, Phocas announces to Antonina and Eudoxia that the king is defeated by the emperor. However, Belisarius was wounded by an arrow. Now that the emperor is safe, Belisarius finally accepts his daughter's marriage to Thelesis and orders him to be set free. But yet, in great pain, Belisarius removes the arrow and immediately dies.

Frédéric Soulié

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Frédéric Soulié presented a drama where madness leads to truth

“Le fils de la folle” (The madwoman's son, 1839) by Frédéric Soulié (1800-1847) is a notable family drama taken from his novel, "The school-teacher" (1839).

"The madwoman's son"

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Celestine's mother is insane but knows something of importance about the past. 1822 portrait of a madwoman by Théodore Géricault (1791-1824)

Time: 1816. Place: near Grenoble, France.

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Fanny reproves Achilles, her cousin to whom she is engaged, of mocking Fabius, the secretary of her uncle, the count of Matta and tutor of her fortune. She also complains of his leaving her alone too often. As Fabius leaves the castle, he crosses Fat Louis, a farmer whom Celestine rejected as a husband. A bitter Louis suggests that his sister, Celestine, has been suspiciously inviting Achilles at his house. A disbelieving Fabius replies angrily and browbeats him until the count and Achilles separate them. But yet indeed, at Fabius’ house, Achilles attempts to seduce Celestine, who loves the ardent youth but insists on marriage first. Their discussion is interrupted by her mother, a madwoman under the care of Celestine and her brother, who has discovered a text entitled “Matters relating to the marquise of Esgrigny” in the handwriting of the count of Matta. Achilles wants to peruse those papers, handed over to Fabius that very morning, but Celestine pulls away and discovers that many years ago the marquise of Esgrigny begged a citizen named Bénard to free her husband from prison. Celestine concludes that the count of Matta used that pseudonym to prevent being slaughtered during the revolution. As Fabius enters, Achilles hides in the next room. Fabius is bleeding after being attacked from behind by Fat Louis. He accuses his sister of entertaining Achilles in their house, but she denies it weeping. Fabius informs her that Achilles will marry Fanny one month from now. She denies that, too, but a slip of the tongue on her part reveals that she and Achilles have indeed been seeing each other. Their talk is interrupted by the madwoman, who says that she just saw Achilles outside the house but could not hold him. At their next meeting, the count tells Fabius that he has a new position for him as a forest manager and that he must leave at once. Recognizing that the purpose of the offer is to remove Celestine from Achilles’ influence, Fabius proudly declines. Undeterred, the count expresses a wish to see his sister. Meanwhile, Fanny is frightened to find a strange woman enter the castle, a madwoman who declares having seen her portrait on Fabius’ breast while sleeping. She also declares that Achilles is her brother and has been courting Celestine, then escapes before Fabius can catch up to her. At Fanny’s request, Fabius confirms that Achilles has promised to marry his sister. Chased by servants of the castle, the madwoman re-enters the room, seeming to hear a song from revolutionary times. “They sang it when I pleaded the pardon of the condemned man,” she says and screams after seeing the bewildered count, who asks Fabius who the woman is. “My mother who is mad,” Fabius answers. “Ah, it is therefore hell which has given her that face and that voice,” the count asserts. To settle the matter of his son’s marriage prospect, the count visits Celestine at her house, stating that he forbids his son to marry her while being prepared to buy her off. Recognizing that she can obtain more money by lying, she counters that Achilles slept with her. “He cheated you as he cheated me,” she adds weeping. Fabius has overheard them, all the more adamant about remaining where they are and promising to restore his papers, still in his mother’s hands, who states that the papers are false, that the marquise of Esgrigny never obtained the pardon, for she herself is the marquise of Esgrigny who yielded her body to the treacherous count. Although the count denies it, the marquise discloses that Fabius is not the son of the marquis of Esgrigny but the son of the count of Matta. Because Achilles compromised Celestine, he offers to marry her while Fabius, now destitute marquis of Esgrigny, having threatened his father and being cursed by his mother, feels he must move away. His musings are interrupted by his half-brother, Achilles, who informs him that the marquise refuses to permit her daughter to marry the son of her husband’s murderer. To salvage his father’s honor, he requests Fabius to write a statement contradicting the marquise’s accusation, imputing it to madness. Fabius refuses, to the marquise’s joy. “I’ll wait for you, sir,” Achilles threatens. “I bear arms.” After he leaves, Celestine announces the arrival of the count of Matta. “You must repulse your father from this house,” the marquise commands her son. “Otherwise, it is just that your mother leaves it as a prostitute.” The count conveys Achilles’ wish to be pardoned and his own thanks for refusing the duel. The count explains his past behaviors as a result of the madness of revolutionary times and offers him Fanny’s hand in marriage, who falsely considers Fabius the son of the marquis of Esgrigny. As Fabius turns away, the count reminds him of the disadvantages of a refusal: the reputation of his sister and mother liable to be shriveled, for the latter’s accusations cannot be proven. Seeing her son’s despair, the marquise accepts the count’s offer of Fanny’s hand in marriage with her son, but refuses ever to see the count again. “I’ll leave alone,” the count promises. “And leave you with your children.”

Jules Sandeau

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Jules Sandeau showed why a man's choice of a son-in-law is sometimes capricious, 1880

Among the few comedies of note in this period, Jules Sandeau's (1811-1883) "Mademoiselle de La Seiglière" (1851), based on his own novel of 1847, stands out as an example of the 19th century "well-made play".

According to Knight (1893), the play's "success is attributable in part to the thoroughly sympathetic nature of the plot, in part to the admirable picture it supplies of an old aristocrat fallen on evil times. The Marquis de la Seiglière is one of the finest types of modern fiction. The revolution has passed over France with no other result than sending him to spend a quarter of a century in exile in Germany. The emperor is Napoleon Buonaparte, and a 'huissier' of the court, or even an 'avocat', is a being who is to be frightened out of his house by the threat of having his ears cut off. He is, indeed, a 'grand seigneur' of the time of Louis XVI, and has yielded no single right that has belonged to his ancestors. The spectacle of a man such as this in open conflict with Napoleonic ideas has extreme interest, and as the psychology of the play is backed up by a genuine love interest, the result is good" (p 275). The play "reflected the canceling of social distinctions following the Revolution, and suggested that noble blood must be joined with noble character. Excellent in construction and character drawing, the piece was somewhat too obvious in its moralizing" (Chandler, 1920 p 22).

Montague (1925) underlined the construction of "Mademoiselle de La Seiglière" as an example of the 19th century "well-made play". "Plainly your chance is in the seismic dispossessions, redistributions and restitutions of French real estate between the outbreak of the Revolution and the final return of the Legitimist emigrants. When by this process, carried straight on, you have deduced a Royalist Marquis, with one fair daughter, in actual but not legal possession of an estate belonging, under the Code Napoleon, to the unexpectedly surviving son of an ill-used person of lowly origin, your first act begins to write itself, for it must unfold these circumstances. Characters, too, are disengaged from the philosophic equation. Real property and the Code Napoleon imply a lawyer, to instruct the young claimant to the estates. But in a well-made cast a lawyer cannot be wasted on law alone. People in well-made casts have to work for their places. The obvious work for him to fill up his time with is that of the friend who, by old dramatic tradition, keeps up to the mark, the vindictive mark, the hero who wavers between love and vengeance. The child of the people having thus obtained a bottle-holder, balance necessitates one for the other combatant, the Marquis. Well, as his daughter was first to be betrothed to a man of her own rank, and as she and her father call out, in any case, to be balanced by this young man and his mother, why not make this dowager work double tides too, like the lawyer, and be the Marquis’s second and adviser in the conflict? Then the lawyer and this lady, being thus set at one another, must be furnished with some vitriolic dispute of their own, to keep them hard at it; so the lawyer shall be her old, scornfully rejected suitor. And there, with just one footman to get people into rooms and say the things that have to be said but do not quite come rightly from any one else, is Sandeau’s whole cast, and, in outline, his whole play; and the cohesion and compactness of plays thus evolved were, until the disturber Ibsen came, the modern European ideal of dramatic craftsmanship" (pp 65-66).

"Mademoiselle de La Seiglière"

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Helen de la Seiglière discusses her marriage prospects with her father. Drawing by an unknown artist

Time: 1817. Place: France.

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After twenty years of exile in Germany to avoid being murdered during the French Revolution, the marquis de La Seiglière has settled down comfortably in his domains, formerly kept by his steward, Thomas Stamply, who died and gave him back the entire property after hearing news that Thomas' son, Bernard, died during Napoleon’s Russian campaign. The marquis particularly enjoys hunting and mocks the interest in botany of Raoul, son of his neighbor, baroness de Vaubert, a man destined to marry his daughter, Helen. One day, the baroness receives a letter confirming the position she sought for a lawyer, Destournelles, is accepted. It concerns the prestigious post of counsellor at the royal court for services Destournelles rendered while she was reclaiming her property on her return from exile. She omits to mention these good news to him because he may still be of service to her son as Helen’s suitor. The ill-used Destournelles asks to marry the baroness, but is rejected. His thoughts of vengeance are satisfied after discovering that Bernard is alive and can reclaim his father’s property. Indeed, Bernard informs the amazed and disbelieving marquis that he intends to oust him from his domains. To counter this attack, the baroness informs Destournelles of his nomination, thus depriving Bernard of legal advice. Bernard’s ardent pursuit of his legal rights diminishes after meeting Helen, who had acted as the kindest of mistresses during his father’s final moments. Six weeks later, Destournelles still has not obtained his position as the result of the baroness’ manipulations with a powerful friend on whom this position depends. In the meantime, Bernard and Helen have become very friendly. When the marquis refers to Napoleon’s campaigns as “escapades”, Bernard withholds an aggressive reply through her influence. Tired of the delay regarding his post, Destournelles returns to ask Bernard what are his instructions for him. “Nothing,” Bernard answers. Instead of discussing his claim, he prefers to follow Helen, who charitably carries clothes to a miller’s widow. Eventually, he even considers abandoning his legal rights. “I still possess a sword,” he avers. Destournelles guesses that Helen and Bernard love each other without having informed each other of their state of mind. To keep his client from leaving, Destournelles tells him that Helen loves him but may marry Raoul. Although shaken, Bernard thinks his love can lead to nothing. “Son of a peasant, I’m only a soldier,” he says disconsolately. He nevertheless declares his love for her. To his surprise, she declares her love for him but speedily withdraws her hand while he kisses it as the baroness enters the room. Meanwhile, Destournelles informs the marquis that he has begun legal proceedings against him, but all may yet be well provided Helen accept to marry his client. The marquis is aghast at the misalliance but yet reflects that Bernard’s behaviors, particularly his hunting habits, is more congenial to him than Raoul’s. When the baroness learns of the legal proceedings, she thinks her friend has no chance of winning and so offers him her castle as a retreat. Despite this generous offer, the marquis announces that he wants Bernard as a son-in-law instead of her son. When he tells this to Helen, she yet hesitates to reveal her love fully because of her promise to Raoul. Hurt in her pride as if the price of a market deal, she backs off all the more on learning from Raoul of Bernard’s rights on her father’s property. Nevertheless, Raoul, recognizing that she loves Bernard more than she loves him, joins their hands together and retreats. The baroness at last informs Destournelles that his nomination is assured.