"See how, to multiply his jokes, this man disturbs the whole order of society! With what scandals does he upheave the most sacred relations on which it is founded! How he turns to ridicule the venerable rights of fathers over their children, of husbands over their wives, masters over their servants! He makes one laugh; true, but he is all the more to be blamed for compelling, by his invincible charm, even wise persons to listen to his sneers, which ought only to rouse their indignation. I have heard it said that he attacks vices; but I would far rather people compared those which he attacks with those he favours. Which is the criminal? A peasant who is fool enough to marry a young lady, or a wife who tries to bring dishonour upon her husband? What can we think of a piece when the pit applauds infidelity, lies, impudence, and laughs at the stupidity of the punished rustic."
By whom was that criticism penned? Doubtless by some intolerant priest, or fanatical prelate? By no means. It was by the author of the Confessions and of the Nouvelle Héloïse, by Jean-Jacques Rousseau![2] Perhaps the Misanthrope, at any rate, may find favour with the critics. It is surely admitted, is it not, that this play is a masterpiece? Let us see what the unctuous Bourdaloue says about it, in his Lettre à l'Académie Française. It is short, but to the point.
"Another fault in Molière that many clever people forgive in him, but which I have not allowed myself to forgive, is that he makes vice fascinating and virtue ridiculously rigid and odious!"
Let us pass on to l'Avare, and return to Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
"It is a great vice to be a miser and to lend upon usury, said the Genevan philosopher, but is it not a still greater for a son to rob his father, to be wanting in respect to him, to insult him with innumerable reproaches and, when the annoyed father curses him, to answer in a bantering way, 'Qu'il n'a que faire de ses dons.' 'I have no use for your gifts.' If the joke is a good one, is it, therefore, any the less deserving of censure? And is not a piece which makes the audience like an insolent son a bad school for manners?"[3]
Let us take a sample from an anonymous critic: Don Juan and Tartuffe, this time; then, after that, we will return to a well-known name, to a poet still cutting his milk teeth and to a golden-mouthed orator. We will begin by the anonymous writer. Note that the precept of Horace was still in vogue at this time: Sugar the rim of the cup to make the drink less bitter!
"I hope," said the critic, "that Molière will receive these observations the more willingly because passion and interest have no share in them: I have no desire to hurt him, but only to be of use to him."
Good! so much for the sugaring the rim of the cup; the absinthe is to come, and, after the absinthe, the dregs. Let us continue:
"We have no grudge against him personally, but we object to his atheism; we are not envious of his gain or of his reputation; it is for no private reasons, but on behalf of all right-thinking people; and he must not take it amiss if we openly defend the interests of God, which he so openly attacks, or because a Christian sorrowfully testifies when he sees the theatre in rebellion against the Church, comedy in arms against the Gospel, a comedian who makes game of mysteries and fun of all that is most sacred and holy in religion!
"It is true that there are some fine passages in Molière's works, and I should be very sorry to rob him of the admiration he has earned. It must be admitted that, if he succeeds but ill in comedy, he has some talent in farce; and, although he has neither the witty skill of Gauthier-Garguille, nor the impromptu touches of Turlupin, nor the power of Capitan, nor the naïveté of Jodelet, nor the retort of Gros-Guillaume, nor the science of Docteur, he does not fail to please at times, and to amuse in his own way. He speaks French passably well; he translates Italian fairly, and does not err deeply in copying other authors; but he does not pretend to have the gift of invention or a genius for poetry. Things that make one laugh when said often look silly on paper, and we might compare his comedies with those women who look perfect frights in undress, but who manage to please when they are dressed up, or with those tiny figures which, having left off their high-heeled shoes, look only half-sized. At the same time, we must not deny that Molière is either very unfortunate or very clever in managing to pass off his false coin successfully, and to dupe the whole of Paris with his poor pieces. Those, in short, are the best and most favourable things we can say for Molière.
"If that author had set forth only affected characterisations, and had stuck entirely to doublets and large frills, he would not have brought upon himself any public censure and he would not have roused the indignation of every religious-minded person. But who can stand the boldness of a farce-writer who makes jokes at religion, who upholds a school of libertinism, and who treats the majesty of God as the plaything of a stage-manager or a call-boy. To do so would be to betray the cause of religion openly at a time when its glory is publicly attacked and when faith is exposed to the insults of a buffoon who trades on its mysteries and profanes its holy things; who confounds and upsets the very foundations of religion in the heart of the Louvre, in the home of a Christian prince, before wise magistrates zealous in God's cause, holding up to derision numberless good pastors as no better than Tartuffes! And this under the reign of the greatest, the most religious monarch in the world, whilst that gracious prince is exerting every effort to uphold the religion that Molière labours to destroy! The king destroys temples of heresy, whilst Molière is raising altars to atheism, and the more the prince's virtue strives to establish in the hearts of his subjects the worship of the true God, by the example of his own acts, so much the more does Molière's libertine humour try to ruin faith in people's minds by the license of his works.
"Surely it must be confessed that Molière himself is a finished Tartuffe, a veritable hypocrite! If the true object of comedy is to correct men's faults while amusing them, Molière's plan is to send them laughing to perdition. Like those snakes the poison of whose deadly bite sends a false gleam of pleasure across the face of its victim, it is an instrument of the devil; it turns both heaven and hell to ridicule; it traduces religion, under the name of hypocrisy; it lays the blame on God, and brags of its impious doings before the whole world! After spreading through people's minds deadly poisons which stifle modesty and shame, after taking care to teach women to become coquettes and giving girls dangerous counsel, after producing schools notoriously impure, and establishing others for licentiousness—then, when it has shocked all religious feeling, and caused all right-minded people to look askance at it, it composes its Tartuffe with the idea of making pious people appear ridiculous and hypocritical. It is indeed all very well for Molière to talk of religion, with which he had little to do, and of which he knew neither the practice nor the theory.
"His avarice contributes not a little to the incitement of his animus against religion; he is aware that forbidden things excite desire, and he openly sacrifices all the duties of piety to his own interests; it is that which makes him lay bold hands on the sanctuary, and he has no shame in wearing out the patience of a great queen who is continually striving to reform or to suppress his works.
"Augustus put a clown to death for sneering at Jupiter, and forbade women to be present at his comedies, which were more decent than were those of Molière. Theodosius flung to the wild beasts those scoffers who turned religious ceremonies into derision, and yet even their acts did not approach Molière's violent outbursts against religion. He should pause and consider the extreme danger of playing with God; that impiety never remains unpunished; and that if it escapes the fires of this earth it cannot escape those of the next world. No one should abuse the kindness of a great prince, nor the piety of a religious queen at whose expense he lives and whose feelings he glories in outraging. It is known that he boasts loudly that he means to play his Tartuffe in one way or another, and that the displeasure the great queen has signified at this has not made any impression upon him, nor put any limits to his insolence. But if he had any shadow of modesty left would he not be sorry to be the butt of all good people, to pass for a libertine in the minds of preachers, to hear every tongue animated by the Holy Spirit publicly condemn his blasphemy? Finally, I do not think that I shall be putting forth too bold a judgment in stating that no man, however ignorant in matters of faith, knowing the content of that play, could maintain that Molière, in the capacity of its author, is worthy to participate in the Sacraments, or that he should receive absolution without a public separation, or that he is even fit to enter churches, after the anathemas that the council have fulminated against authors of imprudent and sacrilegious spectacles!"