JEAN FRANÇOIS CASIMIR DELAVIGNE (1793-1843) BY FREDERIC LOLIÉE HIS French lyrical poet and dramatist, born in Havre in 1793, and brought up at Paris, was awarded a prize by the Académie Française in 1811, elected a member of that illustrious body July 7th, 1825, and died December 11th, 1843. When hardly twenty years of age he had already made his name famous by dithyrambs, the form of which, imitated from the ancients, enabled him to express in sufficiently poetic manner quite modern sentiments. Possessed of brilliant and easy imagination, moderately enthusiastic, and more sober than powerful, he hit upon a lucky vein which promptly led him to fame. He described the recent disasters of his country in fine odes entitled 'Messéniennes,' in allusion to the chants in which the defeated Messenians deplored the hardships inflicted on them by the Spartans. Those political elegies were named-'La Bataille de Waterloo' (The Battle of Waterloo); 'La Dévastation du Musée' (The Spoliation of the Museum); 'Sur le Besoin de S'unir après le Départ des Étrangers' (On the Necessity of Union after the Departure of the Foreigners). They expressed emotions agitating the mind of the country. At the same time they appealed to the heart of the "liberals" of the period by uttering their regrets for vanished power, their rancor against the victorious party, their fears for threatened liberty. The circumstances, the passions of the day, as also the awakening of young and new talent, all concurred to favor Casimir Delavigne, who almost from the very first attained high reputation. In 1819 the publication of two more Messéniennes, on the life and death of Joan of Arc,-inspired like the first with deep patriotic fervor,- was received with enthusiasm. CASIMIR DELAVIGNE Earlier even than the day of Lamartine and Victor Hugo, Casimir Delavigne had the glory of stirring the heart of France. He had the added merit of maintaining, after Beaumarchais and before Émile Augier, the dignity of high comedy. Ingenious scenes of life, lively and spirited details, grace and delicacy of style, save from oblivion such pieces as 'L'École des Vieillards' (The School of Age), first performed by the great artists Mademoiselle Mars and Talma; and 'Don Juan d'Autriche' (Don John of Austria), a prose comedy. Other dramas of his 'Marino Faliero,' 'Les Vêpres Siciliennes' (The Sicilian Vespers), 'Louis XI.,' 'Les Enfants d'Edouard' (The Children of Edward), and 'La Fille du Cid' (The Daughter of the Cid)-are still read with admiration, or acted to applauding spectators. A pure disciple of Racine at first, Delavigne deftly managed to adopt some innovations of the romanticist school. 'Marino Faliero' was the first of his productions in which, relinquishing the so-called classic rules, he endeavored, as a French critic fitly remarks, to introduce a kind of eclecticism in stage literature; a bold attempt, tempered with prudent reserve, in which he wisely combined the processes favored by the new school with current tradition. That play is indeed a happy mixture of drama and comedy. It contains familiar dialogues and noble outbursts, which however do not violate the proprieties of academic style. Though he never displayed the genius of Lamartine or of Victor Hugo, and though some of his pictures have faded since the appearance of the dazzling productions of the great masters of romanticism, Casimir Delavigne still ranks high in the literature of his country and century, thanks to the lofty and steady qualities, to the tender and generous feeling, to the noble independence, which were the honorable characteristics of his talent and his individuality. His works, first published in Paris in 1843 in six octavo volumes, went through many subsequent editions. Frederic Police THE CONFESSION OF LOUIS XI. [On the point of dying, Louis XI. clings desperately to life, and summons before him a holy monk, Francis de Paula, whom he implores to work a miracle in his favor and prolong his life.] Dramatis personæ : L King Louis XI., and Saint Francis de Paula, founder of the order of the Franciscan friars. OUIS We are alone now. Louis [who has knelt down]- At your knees see me trembling with hope and fear. VIII-284 Francis-What can I do for you? Louis- Everything, Father; you can do everything: you can call the dead to life again. Francis-I! Louis-To the dead you say, "Leave your graves!" and they leave them. Louis - You bid our ailments to be cured. Francis-I, my son? Louis-And they are cured. When you command the skies clear, the wind suddenly blows or likewise abates; the falling thunderbolt at your command moves back to the clouds. Oh, I implore you, who in the air can keep up the beneficent dew or let it pour its welcome freshness on the withering plant, impart fresh vigor to my old limbs. See me; I am dying; revive my drooping energy; stretch ye out your arms to me, touch ye those livid features of mine, and the spell of your hands will cause my wrinkles to vanish. Francis What do you ask of me? You surprise me, my son. Am I equal to God? From your lips I first learn that I go abroad rendering oracles, and with my hands working miracles. Louis At least ten years, father! grant me ten more years to live, and upon you I shall lavish honors and presents. my life. I shall found shrines to your name, in gold and jasper shall have your relics set; but! - twenty years more life are too little a reward for so much wealth and incense. I beseech you, work a whole miracle! Do not cut so short the thread of A whole miracle! give me new life and prolong my days! Francis-To do God's work is not in his creature's power. What! when everything dies, you alone should last! King, such is not God's will. I his feeble creature cannot alter for you the course of nature. All that which grows must vanish, all that which is born must perish, man himself and his works, the tree and its fruit alike. All that produces does so only for a time; 'tis the law here below, for eternity death alone shall fructify. Louis-You wear out my patience. Do your duty, monk! Work in my favor your marvelous power; for if you refuse, I shall compel you. Do you forget that I am a king? The holy oil anointed my forehead. Oh, pardon me! but it is your duty to do more for kings, for crowned heads, than for those obscure and unfortunate wretches whom, but for your prayers, God in heaven would never have remembered. Francis-Kings and their subjects are equal in the eyes of the Lord; he owes you his aid as to the rest of his children; be more just to yourself, and claim for your soul that help for which you beg. Louis [eagerly] No, not so much at a time: let us now mind the body; I shall think of the soul by-and-by. Francis-It is your remorse, O King, 'tis that smarting wound inflicted by your crimes, which slowly drags your body to final ruin. Louis-The priests absolved me. Francis - Vain hope! The weight of your present alarms is made up of thirty years of iniquitous life. Confess your shame, disclose your sins, and let sincere repentance wash away your defiled soul. all. Louis-Should I get cured? Francis - Perhaps. Louis-Say yes, promise that I shall. I am going to confess Francis-To me? Louis Such is my will. Listen. Francis [seating himself whilst the King stands up with clasped hands]-Speak then, sinner, who summon me to perform this holy ministry. Louis [after having recited mentally the Confiteor]—I cannot and dare not refuse. Francis-What are your sins? Louis-Through fear of the Dauphin, the late King died of starvation. Francis A son shortened his own father's old age! Louis I was that Dauphin. Francis You were! ruled. Louis-My father's weakness was ruining France. A favorite France must have perished had not the King done so. State interests are higher than Francis-Confess thy sins, thou wicked son; do not excuse thy wrong-doings. Francis-Were you instrumental in his death? Louis-They suspected me. Francis-God Almighty! Louis If those who said so fell in my power! Francis-Is it true? Louis- His ghost rising from the grave can alone with impunity accuse me of his death. Francis-So you were guilty of it? Louis-The traitor deserved it! Francis [rising]-You would escape your just punishment! Tremble! I was your brother, I am now your judge. Crushed under your sin, bend low your head. Return to nothingness, empty Majesty! I no longer see the King, I hear the criminal: to your knees, fratricide! Louis [falling on his knees]-I shudder. Francis-Repent! Louis [crawling to the monk and catching hold of his garments]-I own my fault, have pity on me! I beat my breast and repent another crime. I do not excuse it. Francis [resuming his death scat]—Is this not all? He was a conspirator. But his His crime was proved. But under his scaffold his children's tears Thrice against his lord he had taken up arms. His life-blood spattered them. Yet his death was but just. Francis-Cruel, cruel King! Louis-Just, but severe; I confess it: I punished but no, I have committed crimes. In mid-air the fatal knot has strangled my victims; in murderous pits they have been stabbed with steel; the waters have put an end to them, the earth has acted as their jailer. Prisoners buried beneath these towers groan forgotten in their depths. Francis-Oh! since there are wrongs which you repair, come! Louis-Where to? Francis-Let us set free those prisoners. Louis-Statecraft forbids. can still Francis [kneeling before the King]—Charity orders: come, and save your soul. Louis-And risk my crown! As a king, I cannot. Francis-As a Christian, you must. |