A Selection from the Comedies of Marivaux by Pierre Carlet de Chamblain de Marivaux

P >> Pierre Carlet de Chamblain de Marivaux >> A Selection from the Comedies of Marivaux

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

A SELECTION FROM THE COMEDIES OF MARIVAUX

EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES

BY
EVERETT WARD OLMSTED

New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.
1901
_All rights reserved_.

To Thomas Frederick Crane, A.M., Of Cornell University,
Whose Profound Scholarship, Inspiring Teachings,
And Lasting Friendship Are Here Gratefully Acknowledged.

PREFACE.

That so typical a representative of eighteenth century society, so
gracious a personality, so charming a writer, and so superior a genius as
Marivaux should be not only unedited, but practically unknown to the
American reading public, is a matter of surprise. His brilliant comedies,
written in an easy prose, and free from all impurities of thought or
expression, offer peculiarly attractive texts for our classes. It is for
these reasons that this edition was undertaken. The plays chosen, _le Jeu
de l'Amour et du Hasard_, _le Legs_, and _les Fausses Confidences_ are
generally considered his best plays, and are fortunately free from
dialect, which, in the mouths of certain characters of _l'Epreuve_ and of
_la Mere confidente_, charming as are these comedies, makes them
undesirable for study in college or school. The text of _les Fausses
Confidences_ is that of 1758 (Paris, Duchesne, 5 vols.), the last
collective edition published during the lifetime of the author, that of
_le Legs_, from the edition of 1740 (Paris, Prault pere, 4 vols.), while
that of _le Jeu de l'Amour et du Hasard_, which is contained in neither
the edition of 1758 nor in that of 1740, is from the first collective
edition of his works of 1732 (Paris. Briasson, 2 vols.). It has not seemed
wise to retain the curious orthography of these early editions, as the
explanation of the same would uselessly burden the notes, and possibly
confuse the student. An orthography following the same lines as that of
the edition of _les Grands Ecrivains_ has been adopted.

The Introduction is rather extensive, but, as it serves in truth as an
introduction to students in American schools of an author as yet little
known, a less minute statement of his qualifications would hardly have
been pardonable. Many quotations have been given, some from Marivaux
himself, or from contemporary biographers, of so authoritative a nature as
to add more weight than any summing up by the editor, and others from
celebrated French critics, whose views, or whose picturesqueness of
expression, have been often invaluable. In fact, the Introduction does not
claim to be so much a literary essay as a compilation of authorities.

The notes to a text containing no historical, literary, or biographical
allusions are naturally limited to explaining the difficulties of the
French, and are less extensive than would otherwise be required.

Words and idioms, which, though unusual or difficult, can be found in any
of the small dictionaries accessible to students, have been excluded from
the notes as unnecessary, except such as might mislead unless explained,
or such as differ from the modern use.

It remains for the editor to acknowledge his indebtedness for sympathetic
interest and valuable suggestions to Gustave Larroumet, professor of
French Literature at the University of Paris, and perpetual secretary of
the Academie des Beaux Arts, to Professor Crane and Mr. Guerlac of Cornell
University, and to Professor de Sumichrast of Harvard.

EVERETT WARD OLMSTED.
CORNELL UNIVERSITY, ITHACA, N.Y.,
January 9, 1901.

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION

CHRONOLOGY

BIBLIOGRAPHY

LE JEU DE L'AMOUR ET DU HASARD

LE LEGS

LES FAUSSES CONFIDENCES

NOTES

INTRODUCTION

Among the treasures of the Comedie-Francaise, interesting alike to
students of letters and of art, is a painting by Vanloo. It bears the date
of 1753, and represents a man of doubtful age--for it is hard to tell
whether he is past his prime or not--yet, if the truth were known, one
could not write him down for less than sixty-five. The face is life-like
and attractive, full of an expression of gentle breeding, kindliness, wit,
and subtlety. The eyes are rather dark, large, fine, and keen; with the
thin lips, pursed in a half-smile, they form the most striking features of
the countenance, and serve to give it that characteristic of _finesse_ so
peculiar to the man. The well-developed brow, the full cheeks, and faint
suggestion of a double chin, the powdered hair, the black silk coat, the
lace _jabot_, are all in keeping with our conception of this French
dramatist, whom a competent critic[1] of to-day has classed as greater
than any of his contemporaries in the same field, than Beaumarchais,
Voltaire, Regnard, Le Sage, and second only to Moliere, Corneille, and
Racine. Marivaux, whose rehabilitation has come but slowly, and in spite
of many critics, occupies a place to-day, not only with the ultra-refined,
but in the hearts of the theatre-going public, which, I doubt not, even
the most enthusiastic admirers among his contemporaries would not have
dared to hope for him; for, next to Moliere, no author of comedies appears
so often upon the stage of the Theatre-Francais as does the author of _le
Jeu de l'Amour et du Hasard_.

In the very heart of Paris, and just back of the Hotel de Ville, stands
the church of Saint-Gervais, a church of comparatively little fascination
to the general student of art or history, although its mingling of
Flamboyant and Renaissance styles may attract the specialist in
architecture: but to the student of literary history it has a greater
interest, for it is here that "poor Scarron sleeps." and it was in this
parish that Pierre Cariet de Chamblain de Marivaux was born, and in this
church, doubtless, that he was christened, although the register of
baptism was destroyed at the time of the burning of the archives of the
Hotel de Ville, in May, 1871.

The date of his birth was February 4, 1688, a year noteworthy as
introducing to the public the first edition of the _Caracteres_ of La
Bruyere, with whom Marivaux has often been compared. His father was of an
old Norman family, which had had representatives in the _parlement_ of
that province.[2] Since then the family had "descended from the robe to
finance," following the expression of d'Alembert.[3] Ennobled by the robe,
they had assumed the name de Chamblain, but unfortunately the latter name
was common to certain financiers, and, to still better distinguish
themselves, the family had adopted the additional name of Marivaux.[4]
There seems, however, to have been no connection between them and the
lords of Marivaux (or Marivaulx), a branch of the house of l'Isle-Adam.[5]
Our author signed, himself _de Marivaux_ or _Carlet de Marivaux_.

His childhood was passed at Riom in Auvergne, where his father had been
appointed director of the Mint. Gossot declares that Marivaux was six
years of age when he was taken to Riom,[6] but does not give his authority
for the statement. It is certain, however, that he was so young at the
time that some of his contemporaries supposed he had been born there.[7]
Marivaux received his early education at Riom, and later at Limoges, where
the family went to dwell, and where his father was perhaps again connected
with the Mint.

His biographers differ with regard to the education he received. His
earliest biographer, de La Porte, maintains that his father "ne negligea
rien pour l'education de son fils, qui annonca de bonne heure, par des
progres rapides dans ses premieres etudes, cette finesse d'esprit qui
caracterise ses ouvrages."8] Lesbros de la Versane gives the same
testimony: "Ses heureuses dispositions lui firent profiter de celle (the
education) qu'il recut," and adds: "Il fut admire de ses maitres, et il a
fait les delices de tous ceux qui l'ont connu."[9] There is no reason why
we should not accept the testimony of one who, in general, is so judicious
in his statements as is de La Porte, and, particularly, when the adverse
testimony comes from so evidently prejudiced a writer as Palissot.[10]

D'Alembert follows the testimony of Palissot and others, although he
confesses that they are "in truth very ill disposed" towards Marivaux, and
adds that perhaps they have very unjustly accused him of ignorance of
Latin. Their pardoning him his lack of knowledge of Greek, d'Alembert
cleverly ascribes to that "indulgent equity" which does not require of
one's fellows that which one lacks himself.[11] The following extract from
the _Spectateur_ will prove that, while Marivaux could read the Greek
writers in translations only, he was able to read Latin in the original:
"Si c'est une traduction du grec, et qu'elle m'ennuie, je penche a croire
que l'auteur y a perdu; si c'est du latin, _comme je le sais_, je me livre
sans facon au degout ou au plaisir qu'il me donne."[12] It is also known
that he completed his law studies and might have practiced, but for the
hatred which he, in common with so many other young _litterateurs_ in
times past, had conceived for the profession.

Admitted early to the best society of Limoges, Marivaux enjoyed advantages
from which he gained the polish that made him acceptable in the Paris
salons of which he was later an habitue, When he was but seventeen years
of age there occurred an incident, which, if it did not have so serious an
effect upon his life as he himself believed, at least was not without its
influence in fostering that spirit of observation and inquiry, not to say
scepticism, with regard to the motives that influence his fellow man,
which was so prominent a characteristic of this writer. Marivaux describes
the incident in the first _feuille_ of the _Spectateur francais_, and,
inasmuch as the sketch gives an excellent idea of the man, I translate it
in full.

"At the age of seventeen I became attached to a young girl, to whom I owe
the sort of life which I adopted. I was not uncomely then, I had a mild
disposition and affectionate ways. The decorum which I noticed in the girl
had drawn my attention to her beauty. I found in her, moreover, so much
indifference to her charms, that I would have sworn she was ignorant of
them. How simple minded I was at that time! What a pleasure, said I to
myself, if I can win the love of a girl who does not care to have lovers,
since she is beautiful without observing it, and hence is no coquette! I
never left her without my affectionate surprise increasing at the sight of
so many graces in a person who was not the more vain because of it. Were
she seated or standing, speaking or walking, it always seemed to me that
she was absolutely artless, and that she thought of nothing less than
appearing to be what she was.

"One day in the country, when I had just left her, a forgotten glove
caused me to retrace my steps to get it. I perceived the beauty in the
distance, regarding herself in a mirror, and I noticed, to my great
astonishment, that she was picturing herself to herself in all the phases
in which, during our conversation, I had seen her face, and it turned out
that the expressions of her countenance, which I had thought so
unaffected, were, to name them correctly, only tricks; I judged from a
distance that her vanity adopted certain ones, that it improved upon
others; they were little ways that one might have noted down and that a
woman might have learned like a musical air. I trembled for the risk which
I should have run, if I had had the misfortune to experience again in good
faith her deceptions, at the point of perfection to which her cleverness
had carried them; but I had believed her natural, and had loved her only
on that footing; so that my love ceased immediately, as if my heart had
been only conditionally moved. She, in turn, perceived me in the mirror,
and blushed. As for me, I entered laughing, and picking up my glove: 'Ah!
mademoiselle, I beg your pardon,' I said to her, 'for having, up to this
time, attributed to nature charms, the whole honour of which is due to
your ingenuity alone.' 'What is the matter? What does this speech mean?'
was her reply. 'Shall I speak to you more frankly?' I said to her: 'I have
just seen the machinery of the Opera; it will still divert me, but it will
touch me less.' Thereupon I went out, and it is from this adventure that
there sprang up in me that misanthropy which has not left me, and which
has caused me to pass my life in examining mankind, and in amusing myself
with my reflexions."[13]

We could not have in miniature a more perfect sketch than this of the
character of the man, with those peculiarities that were to make of him so
original a writer, and little did Marivaux imagine that in the coquette of
Limoges he "had seen the living and faithful image of his Muse,"[14] with
all its archness, coquettishness, and ingenuity in style and expression.
Marivaux had much of the feminine in his nature,--a rare intuition, a
marked finesse in observation, an extreme sensitiveness with regard to his
own and others' feelings, a dislike of criticism with a reluctance to
reply to it, though never forgetting the attack, a certain timidity with
men, a fondness for dress and luxury, an extreme love of conversation,
generosity to the point of self-sacrifice, and a religious turn of mind in
a sceptical century. His connection with the salons of Paris, where so
much of his life was spent in the society of women, probably contributed
largely to develop those traits that were doubtless innate.

With something of the coquette in his own nature, Marivaux had no patience
with it in others. D'Alembert relates another incident, which will serve
to show that not only affectation, but also everything that seemed to him
too studied, received his condemnation. "One day, he went to see a man
from whom he had received many letters, which were almost in his own
style, and, which, as one may well imagine, had seemed to him very
ingenious. Not finding him, he determined to wait. He noticed, by chance,
on the desk of this man, the rough draughts of the letters which he had
received from him, and which he supposed had been written off-hand. Here
are rough draughts, said he, which do him no credit: henceforth, he may
make minutes of his letters for whomsoever he likes, but he shall receive
no more of mine. He left the house instantly, and never returned."[15]

At the age of eighteen[16] (1706), and shortly after leaving college,
Marivaux made his debut in literature as the result of a discussion in
which he maintained that a comedy was not a difficult thing to write. Upon
being challenged to prove his point, he set to work, and, a few days
later, brought to the company a comedy in one act, entitled _le Pere
prudent et equitable, ou Crispin l'heureux fourbe_. It is the only one of
Marivaux's comedies written in verse, which form of composition he adopted
the better to test himself and to demonstrate his claim; but he took good
care not to give to the public his comedy, "pour ne pas perdre en public,"
he said, "le pari qu'il avait gagne en secret,"[17] and it was not until
nearly fifteen years later, when he had reached the age of thirty-two,
that he entrusted a work to the stage. He did well to keep this comedy
from the public, for it contained little that gave promise of genius,
being juvenile in character, dull and faulty in versification, and
largely, though poorly, imitated from Moliere and Regnard.

It must have been shortly after this that Marivaux returned to Paris to
continue his studies, and possibly to prepare himself for the life of a
literary dilettante. His means were sufficient to enable him to indulge
his taste in this way. Here we find him admitted to the salon of Mme. de
Lambert, held in her famous apartments, situated at the corner of the rue
Richelieu and the rue Colbert, and now replaced by a portion of the
Bibliotheque Nationale. It was a rendezvous of select society on
Wednesdays, and particularly of the literary set on Tuesdays, and among
its habitues may be mentioned such men as Fontenelle, d'Argenson, Sainte-
Aulaire, La Motte, and President Henault. "It was," says Fontenelle, "with
few exceptions, the only house which had preserved itself from the
epidemic disease of gambling, the only one in which one met to converse
reasonably and even with _esprit_ upon occasion."[18] Its influence was
inestimable upon literary questions of the time, and it might be
considered almost as the antechamber of the French Academy. The envious
dubbed it _un bureau d'esprit_, and its form of _preciosite_,
_lambertinage_.

That Mme. de Lambert had a great influence in forming the mind of the
young author no one can read his works and doubt. A "_precieuse_ in the
most flattering and most exact acceptation"[19] of the term, she promoted
a similar turn of mind in Marivaux. His dislike for Moliere may have
received its encouragement from her, as she was never quite willing to
forgive that great genius for his attack upon _les femmes savantes_.
Marivaux, too, had, as Palissot expresses it, "un faible pour les
precieuses,"[20] and for the author of those famous attacks, a contempt as
unfeigned as absurd. The high moral character of his writings and his
ideas on marriage and children may readily have found their origin with
Mme. de Lambert.

Mme. de Tencin, to whose salon of the rue Saint-Honore Marivaux was
likewise welcomed, was as different a character from the kindly, serious,
upright, and judicious Mme. de Lambert as can well be imagined, and it was
only after the death of the latter, in 1733, that her salon was
particularly brilliant. Her youth had been most disorderly. At an early
age she had assumed the veil, but, through the efforts of her brother, the
abbe de Tencin, and later cardinal, who, doubtless, saw in her a powerful
factor for his own promotion, she obtained her secularization. Coming to
Paris a short time before the death of Louis XIV, she was ready to welcome
the gross immorality of the Regency, and, for personal advancement,
entered into a series of liaisons with Prior, the friend of Lord
Bolingbroke, Rene d'Argenson, the Regent himself, Dubois, and the
Chevalier Destouches. The latter was the father of her son, whom she
abandoned on the steps of the church Saint-Jean-le-Rond, and who, reared
by a glazier's wife, became the celebrated d'Alembert. Another lover,
Lafresnaye, whom she had induced to put all of his property in her name,
shot himself, or was shot, at her house. Although imprisoned on suspicion
at the Chatelet, and later at the Bastille, she soon gained her liberty by
the intervention of powerful friends. That she could maintain her position
in society as she did is a striking proof of its terribly corrupt
condition. In her declining years she sought to veil the disorders of her
youth by more serious pursuits, and gathered about her a number of
literary spirits of whom she spoke as her _betes_ or her _menagerie_.

Marmontel gives the following description of the habitues of her salon and
of the desire that pervaded all to show their wit: "L'auditoire etait
respectable. J'y vis rassembles Montesquieu, Fontenelle, Mairan, Marivaux,
le jeune Helvetius, Astruc, je ne sais qui encore, tous gens de lettres ou
savants, et au milieu d'eux une femme d'un esprit et d'un sens profonds,
mais qui, enveloppee dans son exterieur de bonhomie et de simplicite,
avait plutot l'air de la menagere que de la maitresse de la maison:
c'etait la Mme. de Tencin ... je m'apercus bientot qu'on y arrivait
prepare a jouer son role, et que l'envie d'entrer en scene n'y laissait
pas toujours a la conversation la liberte de suivre son cours facile et
naturel. C'etait a qui saisirait le plus vite, et comme a la volee, le
moment de placer son mot, son conte, son anecdote, sa maxime ou son trait
leger et piquant; et, pour amener l'a-propos, on le tirait quelquefois
d'un peu loin. Dans Marivaux, l'impatience de faire preuve de finesse et
de sagacite percait visiblement."[21]

Marivaux, in describing the feelings of Marianne upon being introduced
into polite society at the home of Mme. Dorsin, makes an evident allusion
to the salon of Mme. de Tencin, and shows how differently from Marmontel
he regarded the spirit that marked those gatherings. As though to answer
the latter's accusations, he exclaims: "On accuse quelquefois Ses gens
d'esprit de vouloir briller; oh! il n'etait pas question de cela ici." "Ce
n'etait point eux qui y mettaient de la finesse, c'etait de la finesse qui
s'y rencontrait; ils ne sentaient pas qu'ils parlaient mieux qu'on ne
parle ordinairement; c'etaient seulement de meilleurs esprits que
d'autres."[22] All that was said there, he adds, was uttered with so
little effort, so naturally, so simply, and yet with so much brilliancy
that one could see that it was a company of persons of exquisite taste and
breeding. Society, as depicted here, was not "full of solemn and important
trifles, difficult to learn, and, however ridiculous they are in
themselves, necessary to be known under penalty of being ridiculous." [23]
One was made to feel at home, and what one lacked in wit was supplemented
by that of the company, without one's being made to feel that what he
seemed to utter was not all his own.

The description of Mme. Dorsin is that of Mme. de Tencin herself, seen
through the eyes of an enthusiastic friend, and she knew the art of
gaining friends, and of keeping them, too. In fact, she was never weary of
doing for them, as Marivaux had reason to know as well as any of them,
and, had it not been for her efforts, he would never have belonged to the
French Academy. Her judgment of the literary productions of her friends
was most unprejudiced and judicious, so that whatever met with an
enthusiastic reception in her salon was reasonably certain of success in
the world.

After the death of Mme. de Tencin, in 1749, Marivaux frequented the
_mercredis_ of the _bonne maman_ Geoffrin, and, through friendship for
her, sustained the candidature of Marmontel for the French Academy.[24]
However, he must have felt ill at ease in company with the philosophers
and encylopedists who gave dignity to her salon, and, with his love of
admiration, must have sighed for the days when he shone so brilliantly in
the circle that surrounded Mme. de Lambert or Mme. de Tencin; and, perhaps
in sheer desperation, was led to seek in the salons of the brilliant but
discontented Mme. du Deffand, of that poet too highly valued by her
contemporaries, Mme. du Bocage, and of the actress Mlle. Quinault
_cadette_, that form of _preciosite_ for which his mind was suited, and
which he never found again, because he had outlived the fashion.

Marmontel, in describing the society that frequented the salon of Mme.
Geoffrin, mentions d'Alembert as "the gayest, the most animated, the most
amusing in his gayety,"[25] and goes on to say that Marivaux, too, "would
have liked to have this playful humour; but he had in his head an affair
which constantly preoccupied him and gave him an anxious air. As he had
acquired through his works the reputation of a keen and subtle wit, he
considered himself obliged to constantly display that turn of mind, and
was continually on the watch for ideas susceptible of contrast or
analysis, in order to set them off against each other or to put them
through a test. He would agree that such a thing was true up to a certain
point or under a certain aspect; but there was always some restriction,
some distinction to be made, which he alone had perceived. This labor of
attention was hard for him, often painful for the others; but sometimes
there resulted from it happy observations and brilliant hits. However, by
the anxiety of his glances, one could see that he was uneasy about the
success that he was having or might have. There never was, I think, a more
delicate, more tender, and more apprehensive _amour-propre_; but, as he
carefully considered that of others, they respected his, and merely pitied
him for not being able to determine to be simple and natural."[26]

Although this characterization by Marmontel may be true, too much must not
be attributed to self-conceit, for Marivaux was rather timid and
suspicious of himself at heart than self-conceited, and this very lack of
confidence, this desire to please and to be thought well of, which caused
him, at times, to emphasize before his friends his own worth, is a key to
his nature, without which it would be difficult to understand him. This
timidity of his explains his fear of being duped by the _ingenue_ of
Limoges, as well as his mistrust of the man who made rough draughts of his
letters, instead of writing them off-hand. That Marivaux was over-
sensitive we must agree, for, although the testimony of his contemporaries
may be somewhat biased by jealousy, it is too overwhelmingly unanimous to
be gainsaid.[27]

We cannot conclude, however, despite the testimony of Grimm, whose caustic
tongue was none too chary of his friends, that intercourse with Marivaux
was "epineux et insupportable," for, were it so, he never would have been
so cordially welcomed into society as he was, for which, according to the
abbe de La Porte, he possessed all the qualities required, "an exact
honesty, a noble disinterestedness,... a pleasing candour, a charitable
soul, a modesty without affectation and without pretense, an extremely
sensitive courtesy, and the most scrupulous attention to avoid whatever
might offend or displease."[28]

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20