In creating his plays Sardou did not attempt to conform to any particular definition. He was independent in choice of materials and in method of handling: the purpose justified the treatment. In La Sorcière he showed his hatred of tyranny, and he puts into the mouth of Zoraya, the Moorish woman, in that powerful seventh scene of Act IV, one of the bitterest denunciations of the Inquisition ever made through the drama. Sardou studied historic events with the eyes of a scientist. He was interested in hypnotism and in spiritualism. While studying the Middle Ages he concluded that the so-called sorcery of that time was nothing else but hypnotism, long known to the Orientals and introduced by them among the Moors. It was only natural that an age, so reeking with superstition that it persecuted the man who declared that the earth revolves around the sun, should brand as an agent of the devil any one familiar with hypnotic power. Through a feminine character in whom were combined the best qualities of Mohammedanism and the gift of healing, Sardou was able to throw the strongest light upon superstition in the Middle Ages.
The plot of La Sorcière is the work of a master craftsman. In motivation and in development of situation the play is so well rounded that no part can be removed without spoiling the whole. The action opens with a humorous scene in which a petty officer vested with authority is bullying a crowd of peasants, among whom is supposed to be the culprit who stole the corpse of an executed criminal publicly exposed—the body being that of an unconverted Moor who had loved a Christian girl. In this scene Sardou begins to draw his background of superstition by means of the words of the ignorant natives, who jump at a suggestion of one of their number, and denounce as the thief Zoraya, the “Sorceress.” In a scene poetic with romance and beauty Don Enrique and Zoraya, whom he wishes to arrest, drift into the same relation which resulted in the death of the young Moor, whose body had been stolen. This act is the great corner-stone of the drama. Sardou’s skillful motivation prepares the reader for developments in the coming four acts, but this craftsmanship is so carefully hidden that the relations of incidents are so natural that they come in the form of surprises. The sequence of the events is perfect. The transition from the first to the second act, in which develop Don Enrique’s dangerous secret relationship with Zoraya and his inexplicable reason for discontinuing his visits to her, is perfectly natural, and the last scene of the act, consisting of only a few phrases of explanation, suddenly reveals such an astonishing complication that the effect is nothing short of tremendous. With a climax so effective the entire foundation of the action is laid. We have learned that the Christian girl whom Zoraya has begun to cure with hypnotic power is to become the bride of Don Enrique, a fact which she did not know before the girl was taken away happy with the thought that she should now be more acceptable to her lover.
In the third act Don Enrique’s character is tested in a struggle which he loses with overpowering circumstances. Gossips open the action with a frivolous discussion of the marriage of Don Enrique and the governor’s daughter. They satisfactorily explain that the parents of the couple years before had arranged the marriage. They also gossip about sorcerers and sorceresses. From suggestions we learn that Zoraya is in danger, and that her relations with Enrique are known. Close by the nuptial chamber begins the clash of fateful circumstances, which decide within a short time the destinies of Don Enrique and Zoraya. Near the conclusion of this act we have the purest essence of tragedy, if we accept Aristotle’s statement that tragedy is an imitation of actions which are terrible and piteous. Enrique, after nobly refusing to renounce his country and his religion and to flee with Zoraya to Morocco, is forced to become with her a fugitive after he unintentionally kills an agent of the Inquisition who suddenly detects them and attempts to arrest Zoraya. Flight and pursuit of Don Enrique and Zoraya close the act. This scene is one of gripping intensity.
The merciless execution of power, the intolerance and tyranny of the Holy Inquisition are portrayed in an exemplification of a session of that body in the fourth act. Again the action to be developed is disclosed by the conversation of monks waiting for the council to convene. We learn that Zoraya and Don Enrique have been captured. We know the penalty likely to be pronounced upon them, but we remember that it is Zoraya alone who has the power of restoring to consciousness the daughter of the governor and bride of Enrique, who is deeply sleeping on her nuptial night. The unrelenting cruelty used by the Inquisition in making the captive hag and the unfortunate young girl testify against Zoraya, from whom they wring a confession to sorcery in order to free Don Enrique, rouses pity and indignation, which increase to highest pitch when her lover, who stands at the side unobserved by her until she has told all, is deceived into believing that she is a sorceress and that he has been victimized. But this has not been done without bringing upon the members of the Inquisition Zoraya’s storm of righteous denunciation. There is anguish unutterable when Don Enrique, who does not know that Zoraya has made the greatest sacrifice that a human being can make, accuses her of being false. To this injustice is added the climax of the act which closes with this awful sentence: “We shall burn her after vespers.”
The final act is short and intense. Zoraya has been sentenced to death, but we know that she still holds the possible price of her freedom. The final setting of the play is magnificent: it is characteristic of Sardou. Here is a street scene in front of a great cathedral near which is a pyre ready for burning Zoraya. Into this act are packed all of the color, the pomp and the pageantry of the church and chivalry of the heroic age in Spain. There is a wonderful procession, a stirring mob scene, intensified with the solemn sounds of religious chanting, the roll of organ music and the resonant boom of tower bells. Don Enrique learns of Zoraya’s sacrifice. As we expected, she is given her liberty on condition that she restore to consciousness the governor’s daughter, a performance that causes the mob, already incensed by fanatical monks, to demand her death immediately after receiving the liberty which she deserves. Don Enrique nobly chooses death with her.
The conclusion of the action shows Sardou’s wonderful technique at its best. The sequence of events is natural and the transition from situation to situation is motivated so realistically that the threads of the structure cannot be detected. Wide passages cross and recross until they become intricately involved in mazes which ultimately lead to the foot of an unscalable blind-arcade. Then suddenly there come from an unexpected place a glimmer of light, a swift opening of doors, and all is seen at a flash. This is not ordinary stagecraft—it is the necromancy of stagecraft!
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The translator has endeavored to follow as closely as possible La Sorcière as Sardou wrote it, remembering that Browning said in the introduction to his translation of the Agememnon of Æschylus: “I should require him [the translator] to be literal at every cost save that of absolute violence of our language.”
Charles A. Weissert.