To Elmire, the

appears in a dif

having been disinherited through his means. cool-headed and sensible wife of Orgon, he ferent character. Here he seems to know that all his art will be required to "make the worse appear the better reason,” and pours his poisoned sophistries into her ear with the subtlety of Belial himself. "All was false and hollow, for his thoughts were low." And when his disguise will avail him no longer, but he stands detected for what he is, he flings it off as a man would drop a cloak, and stands forth in his true colors, brazen, vindictive and a reprobate. Then at the very last, when justice has overtaken him, and he is to be carried off to prison, he accepts his fate without a word, like the astute rascal he is. He has played his miserable game to the end, has lost it, and has doubtless too often contemplated the penalty, to be surprised into outcry when it comes.

The other characters are drawn with wonderful skill and truth. There is Madame Pernelle, the old mother of Orgon, opinionated and obstinate, a thick-and-thin supporter of Tartuffe, her partisanship sharpened by the difficulty she finds in replying to the scornful remonstrances with which her injudicious praise of her hero is met by those about her. There is Orgon, the dupe, so infatuated with the shameless impostor, who speaks of him in private as "a man to be led by the nose," that the coarsest imposture of Tartuffe is received by him with admiring and unquestioning belief; this same Orgon, too, most characteristically declaring, when at last he has been convinced of his error by the evidence of his own eyes and ears, that he will henceforth and forever be the implacable foe of "all religious people "—thus falling, as such unreasoning people always do, from one extreme into the other. Then there are Elmire, the sensible wife of Orgon, quiet, self-possessed, with woman's wit sufficiently sharp to cut through the meshes of Tartuffe's net of falsehood, without any unnecessary excitement or demonstration of anger; Damis, the son of Orgon, rash and impetuous, proposing to counteract Tartuffe's schemes of vengeance by cutting off that astute gentleman's ears; Valère and Marianne, the two lovers, who quarrel and make friends as lovers always have done and always will do; Dorine, the sharp, loquacious attendant, who,

hating and despising Tartuffe, takes a pleasure in shocking the oily knave's sensibilities; and last, not least, Cléante, Orgon's brother-in-law, with his honest, manly good sense, and his quiet but eloquent protest against the shallow pretenders who would build up a reputation and a fortune for themselves on a foundation of vain words. No wonder the hypocrites fought tooth and nail against the representation of the play. Never had the mirror been held up to nature with better effect; never had scorn beheld her own image more completely.

Before the play of "The Misanthrope" was permitted to rouse the laughter and admiration of the capital, Molière's reputation had been increased by other works, and his influence established by new tokens of the king's favor. His company was now called the "Troupe du roi," and the poet and his chief actors were pensioned. It was also understood that whoever showed any superciliousness or scorn with regard to Molière stood a good chance of incurring the displeasure of his master; and the Court of Louis XIV. was not so unlike other courts of all times and countries as to fail in courtesy and offers of service to one whom the monarch had distinguished by his especial notice. It was under very favorable circumstances that "Le Misanthrope," Molière's chief work in 1665, was produced early in the next year.

In this admirable comedy the author gives us, in the chief character, a man who, thoroughly honest and straightforward, incapable of subterfuge or deceit, falls into the error of expecting too much from poor human nature. Though he might in one sense say with Timon, "I am misanthropos, and hate mankind," Alceste, the hero, is a man-hater of the most polished type-a finished gentleman; indeed, like all the chief characters in the play, he is to a certain extent drawn from the life. He is in a continual state of disgust and anger at the duplicity and false-heartedness of the fine gentlemen and ladies who surround him; and with the petulance of an angry man sets up an impossible ideal, insisting that a man of honor ought, on each and every occasion, to say exactly what he means, and lay bare his innermost thoughts; that the conventional language of compliment prevalent in polite society is

so much deception and fraud, against which every honest man should steadily set his face. He has a lawsuit pending, but will take no steps to procure a favorable verdict. No-his cause is good, and should therefore recommend itself to every just judge, without external aid; if judgment goes against him, so much the worse for those degraded beings who fail to see that his opponents are rogues. His friend Philinte laughingly suggests that it may be sometimes highly inconvenient to speak out one's thoughts without reserve; but Alceste will not allow a cause for reticence anywhere. "Would you tell old Emilie that she's too old to play the pretty girl, and that she paints her face till she makes herself ridiculous?" "Yes." "Would you tell Dorilas that he's a bore, and tires everybody with his long stories about the glory of his ancestors?" "Decidedly."

But, alas for human virtue and determination! Alceste, the frigid stickler for frankness and sincerity, is fascinated by the beauty and grace of Célimène, a young widow who has the very faults against which he is most bitter. She is a coquette, extravagantly fond of admiration, quite unworthy of the honest gentleman whom she has entangled-she must have been very like Armande Béjart, the poet's young wife; but Alceste cannot escape from her influence. "It is for my sins that I love you thus," he angrily exclaims, chafing at his own weakness; but she makes him do as she likes. He declares he will have an explanation with her, and she laughs at him; he threatens to leave her, and she commands him to stay where he is; he persists, and she tells him he may go; whereupon he stops.

Philinte, the good-natured philosopher, is a capital foil to Alceste, with whom he expostulates with admirable patience. "I take pleasantly men as they are," is his very sensible motto. He is exceedingly tolerant, and considers it just as natural that men should be selfish and unjust, as that apes should be mischievous, vultures hungry, and wolves savage and wild. Sometimes, certainly, he goes too far in his spirit of toleration, as, for instance, where he compliments the conceited Oronte upon a sonnet which Alceste, whose opinion is asked by the self-sufficient author, feels compelled to pro

nounce trashy and bad. This Oronte is another capital character; a man of the world and a courtier, profuse of words that mean nothing, greedy of praise, and unable to endure the frankness of a man whom he has himself exhorted to speak out. Two coxcombs of marquises-Molière was somewhat given to poke fun at the marquises-help to carry off the dialogue, which is sparkling and brilliant throughout; and not the least successful among the character sketches is that of Arsinoë, the prude, who comes to Célimène with a budget of good advice and a heart full of envy and spite, and is utterly routed and put to confusion by that saucy beauty. The reading of a letter in which the satirical Célimène has turned her various admirers severally into ridicule in a manner which causes her to lose them all, appropriately concludes the play.

Molière considered "Le Misanthrope" as one of his best productions, and refused to alter a passage even at the suggestion of a royal princess. His dedications to the King and his other lofty patrons were sometimes obsequious, according to the fashion of the time; but his work was more to him than even the royal favor, and where he felt he was right he maintained his opinion valiantly.-H. W. DULCKEN.

EXTRACTS FROM TARTUffe.

I. THE DUPE.

Cleante.-Was ever such a whim heard of before? Is it possible that you should be so infatuated with a man as to forget everything for him? And, after having saved him from want, that you should come to

Orgon.-Not a word more, brother, for you do not know the man you are speaking of.

Clé.-I do not know him, if you like, but in order to see what kind of a man he is

He

Org.-Brother, you would be delighted with him if you knew him, and you would never get over your wonder. is a man who . . . ah! a man . . . in short, a man. Whoever carefully follows his precepts lives in a most profound peace, and all the rest of the world is but dross to him. Yes, I am quite another man since I became acquainted with him. He teaches me to have no affection for anybody; he detaches

my heart from all the ties of this world; and I should see my brother, children, mother, and wife die, without caring about it.

Clé.-Humane feelings these, brother!

Org.-Ah! if you had only seen him when I first met him, you would feel for him the same love that I have. He came every day to church, and with gentle looks knelt down straight before me on both his knees. He attracted the attention of the whole congregation by the ardor with which, wrapped in saintly ecstasy, he sent up his prayer to Heaven. He sighed deeply, and every moment humbly kissed the ground. When I went out, he would steal quickly before me to offer me holy water at the door. Having heard through his servant, who imitates him in everything, of his poverty and who he is, I made him small presents; but he, with the greatest modesty, always returned me part of it. "It is too much," he would say, "too much by half; I do not deserve your pity;" and when I refused to take it back again, he went, before my eyes, to distribute it to the poor. At last Heaven moved me to take him into my house, and since then everything has been prospering here. I see that he reproves everything, and, with regard to my wife, takes extreme care of my honor. He warns me of the people who cast loving eyes upon her, and is a dozen times more jealous of her than I am. You would never believe how far he carries his pious zeal. He accuses himself of sin for the smallest thing imaginable; a mere trifle is enough to shock him; so much so, that the other day he blamed himself for having caught a flea while at his prayers, and for having killed it with too much wrath.

Cle. You are crazy, brother, I believe! Are you mocking me with such stuff?

2. POOR MAN.

Orgon.-Well, Dorine, has everything been going on as it should do these two days? How do they all do? And what have they been about?

Dorine. My mistress was ill the day before yesterday with a fever. She had a headache quite dreadful to think of.