Don Garcia of Navarre.

by Moliere.

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE.

Nothing can be more unlike _The Pretentious Young Ladies_ or _Sganarelle_ than Moliere's _Don Garcia of Navarre_. The Theatre du Palais-Royal had opened on the 20th January, 1661, with _The Love-Tiff_ and _Sganarelle_, but as the young wife of Louis XIV., Maria Theresa, daughter of Philip IV., King of Spain, had only lately arrived, and as a taste for the Spanish drama appeared to spring up anew in France, Moliere thought perhaps that a heroic comedy in that style might meet with some success, the more so as a company of Spanish actors had been performing in Paris the plays of Lope de Vega and Calderon, since the 24th of July, 1660. Therefore, he brought out, on the 4th of February, 1661, his new play of _Don Garcia of Navarre_. It is said that there exists a Spanish play of the same name, of which the author is unknown; Moliere seems to have partly followed an Italian comedy, written by Giacinto Andrea Cicognini, under the name of _Le Gelosie fortunata del principe Rodrigo_; the style, loftiness and delicacy of expression are peculiar to the French dramatist.

_Don Garcia of Navarre_ met with no favourable reception, though the author played the part of the hero. He withdrew it after five representations, but still did not think its condemnation final, for he played it again before the King on the 29th of September, 1662, in October, 1663, at Chantilly, and twice at Versailles. He attempted it anew on the theatre of the Palace-Royal in the month of November, 1663; but as it was everywhere unfavourably received, he resolved never to play it more, and even would not print it, for it was only published after his death in 1682. He inserted some parts of this comedy in the _Misanthrope_, the _Femmes Savantes_, _Amphitryon_, _Tartuffe_ and _Les Facheux, where they produced great effect.

Though it has not gained a place on the French stage, it nevertheless possesses some fine pa.s.sages. Moliere wished to create a counterpart of _Sganarelle_, the type of ridiculous jealousy, and to delineate pa.s.sionate jealousy, its doubts, fears, perplexities and anxieties, and in this he has succeeded admirably. However n.o.ble-minded Don Garcia may be, there rages within his soul a mean pa.s.sion which tortures and degrades him incessantly. When at last he is banished from the presence of the fair object of his love, he resolves to brave death by devoting himself to the destruction of her foe; but he is forestalled by his presumed rival, Don Alphonso, who turns out to be the brother of his mistress, and she receives him once again and for ever in her favour.

The delineation of all these pa.s.sions is too fine-spun, too argumentative to please the general public; the style is sometimes stilted, yet pa.s.sages of great beauty may be found in it. Moreover the jealousy expressed by Don Garcia is neither sufficiently terrible to frighten, nor ridiculous enough to amuse the audience; he always speaks and acts as a prince, and hence, he sometimes becomes royally monotonous.

Some scenes of this play have been imitated in _The Masquerade_, a comedy, acted at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, 1719, London, "printed for Bernard Linton, between the Temple Gate," which was itself partly borrowed from Shirley's _Lady of Pleasure_. The comedy was written by Mr. Charles Johnson, who "was originally bred to the law, and was a member of the Middle Temple; but being a great admirer of the Muses, and finding in himself a strong propensity to dramatic writing, he quitted the studious labour of the one, for the more spirited amus.e.m.e.nts of the other; and by contracting an intimacy with Mr. Wilks, found means, through that gentleman's interest, to get his plays on the stage without much difficulty ... he, by a polite and modest behaviour formed so extensive an acquaintance and intimacy, as constantly ensured him great emoluments on his benefit night by which means, being a man of economy, he was enabled to subsist very genteelly. He at length married a young widow, with a tolerable fortune; on which he set up a tavern in Bow Street, Covent Garden, but quitted business at his wife's death, and lived privately on an easy competence he had saved.... He was born in 1679 ... but he did not die till March 11, 1748." [Footnote: Biographia Dramatica, by Baker, Reed and Jones, 1812, Vol. I. Part i.]

_The Masquerade_ is a clever comedy, rather free in language and thought, chiefly about the danger of gambling. Some of the sayings are very pointed. It has been stated that the author frequented the princ.i.p.al coffee-houses in town, and picked up many pungent remarks there; however this may be, the literary men who at the present time frequent clubs, have, I am afraid, not the same chance. As a specimen of free and easy--rather too easy--wit, let me mention the remarks of Mr.

Smart (Act I.) on the way he pa.s.sed the night, and in what manner. "Nine persons are kept handsomely out of the sober income of one hundred pounds a year." I also observe the name of an old acquaintance in this play. Thackeray's hero in the Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush is "the Honourable Algernon Percy Deuceace, youngest and fifth son of the Earl of Crabs," and in _The Masquerade_ (Act III. Sc. i) Mr. Ombre says: "Did you not observe an old decay'd rake that stood next the box-keeper yonder ... they call him _Sir Timothy Deuxace_; that wretch has play'd off one of the best families in Europe--he has thrown away all his posterity, and reduced 20,000 acres of wood-land, arable, meadow, and pasture within the narrow circ.u.mference of an oaken table of eight foot." _The Masquerade_ as the t.i.tle of the play is a misnomer, for it does not conduce at all to the plot. We give the greater part of the Prologue to _The Masquerade_, spoken by Mr. Wilks:--

The Poet, who must paint by Nature's Laws, If he wou'd merit what he begs, Applause; Surveys your changing Pleasures with Surprise, Sees each new Day some new Diversion rise; Hither, thro' all the Quarters of the Sky, Fresh Rooks in Flocks from ev'ry Nation hye, To us, the Cullies of the Globe, they fly; French, Spaniards, Switzers; This Man dines on Fire And swallows Brimstone to your Heart's Desire; Another, Handless, Footless, Half a Man, Does, Wou'd you think it? what no Whole one can, A Spaniard next, taught an Italian Frown, Boldly declares he'll stare all Europe down: His tortured Muscles pleas'd our English Fools;

[Footnote: In the rival House, Lincoln's-Inn-Fields Theatre, Rich was bringing out Pantomimes, which, by the fertility of his invention, the excellency of his own performance, and the introduction of foreign performers, drew nightly crowded houses--hence the allusion.]

Why wou'd the Sot engage with English Bulls?

Our English Bulls are Hereticks uncivil, They'd toss the Grand Inquisitor, the Devil: 'Twas stupidly contrived of Don Grimace, To hope to fright 'em with an ugly Face.

And yet, tho' these Exotick Monsters please, We must with humble Grat.i.tude confess, To you alone 'tis due, that in this Age, Good Sense still triumphs on the British Stage: Shakespear beholds with Joy his Sons inherit His good old Plays, with good old Bess's Spirit.

Be wise and merry, while you keep that Tether; Nonsense and Slavery must die together.

DRAMATIS PERSONae.

DON GARCIA, _Prince of Navarre, in love with Elvira_.

[Footnote: In the inventory taken after Moliere's death mention is made of "Spanish dress, breeches, cloth cloak, and a satin doublet, the whole adorned with silk embroideries." This is probably the dress in which Moliere played _Don Garcia_.]

DON ALPHONSO, _Prince of Leon, thought to be Prince of Castile, under the name of Don Silvio_.

DON ALVAREZ, _confidant of Don Garcia, in love with Eliza_.

DON LOPEZ, _another confidant of Don Garcia, in love with Eliza_.

DON PEDRO, _gentleman usher to Inez_.

A PAGE.

DONNA ELVIRA, _Princess of Leon_.

DONNA INEZ, _a Countess, in love with Don Silvio, beloved by Mauregat, the usurper of the Kingdom of Leon_.

ELIZA, _confidant to Elvira_.

_Scene_.--ASTORGA, _a city of Spain, in the kingdom of Leon_.

DON GARCIA OF NAVARRE;

OR, THE JEALOUS PRINCE.

(_DON GARCIE DE NAVARRE, OU LE PRINCE JALOUX_.)

ACT I.

SCENE I.--DONNA ELVIRA, ELIZA.

ELVIRA. No, the hidden feelings of my heart were not regulated by choice: whatever the Prince may be, there is nothing in him to make me prefer his love. Don Silvio shows, as well as he, all the qualities of a renowned hero. The same n.o.ble virtues and the same high birth made me hesitate whom to prefer. If aught but merit could gain my heart, the conqueror were yet to be named; but these chains, with which Heaven keeps our souls enslaved, decide me, and, though I esteem both equally, my love is given to Don Garcia.

ELIZA. The love which you feel for him, seems to have very little influenced your actions, since I, myself, madam, could not for a long time discover which of the two rivals was the favoured one.

ELV. Their n.o.ble rivalry in love, Eliza, caused a severe struggle in my breast. When I looked on the one, I felt no pangs, because I followed my own tender inclination; but when I thought I sacrificed the other, I considered I acted very unjustly; and was of opinion, that Don Silvio's pa.s.sion, after all, deserved a happier destiny. I also reflected that a daughter of the late King of Leon owed some obligation to the house of Castile; that an intimate friendship had long knit together the interests of his father and mine. Thus, the more the one made progress in my heart, the more I lamented the ill success of the other. Full of pity, I listened to his ardent sighs, and received his vows politely; thus in a slight degree I tried to make amends for the opposition his love met with in my heart.

EL. But since you have been informed he previously loved another, your mind ought to be at rest. Before he loved you, Donna Inez had received the homage of his heart. As she is your most intimate friend, and has told you this secret, you are free to bestow your love upon whom you wish, and cover your refusal to listen to him under the guise of friendship for her.

ELV. It is true, I ought to be pleased with the news of Don Silvio's faithlessness, because my heart, that was tormented by his love, is now at liberty to reject it; can justly refuse his addresses, and, without scruple, grant its favours to another. But what delight can my heart feel, if it suffers severely from other pangs; if the continual weakness of a jealous prince receives my tenderness with disdain, compels me justly to give way to anger, and thus to break off all intercourse between us?

EL. But as he has never been told that you love him, how can he be guilty if he disbelieves in his happiness? And does not that which could flatter his rival's expectations warrant him to suspect your affection?

ELV. No, no; nothing can excuse the strange madness of his gloomy and unmanly jealousy; I have told him but too clearly, by my actions, that he can indeed flatter himself with the happiness of being beloved. Even if we do not speak, there are other interpreters which clearly lay bare our secret feelings. A sigh, a glance, a mere blush, silence itself, is enough to show the impulses of a heart. In love, everything speaks: in a case like this, the smallest glimmer ought to throw a great light upon such a subject, since the honour which sways our s.e.x forbids us ever to discover all we feel. I have, I own, endeavoured so to guide my conduct, that I should behold their merits with an unprejudiced eye. But how vainly do we strive against our inclinations! How easy is it to perceive the difference between those favours that are bestowed out of mere politeness, and such as spring from the heart! The first seem always forced; the latter, alas! are granted without thinking, like those pure and limpid streams which spontaneously flow from their native sources.

Though the feelings of pity I showed for Don Silvio moved the Prince, yet I unwittingly betrayed their shallowness, whilst my very looks, during this torture, always told him more than I desired they should.

EL. Though the suspicions of that ill.u.s.trious lover have no foundation--for you tell me so--they at least prove that he is greatly smitten: some would rejoice at what you complain of. Jealousy may be odious when it proceeds from a love which displeases us; but when we return that love, such feelings should delight us. It is the best way in which a lover can express his pa.s.sion; the more jealous he is the more we ought to love him. Therefore since in your soul a magnanimous Prince....

ELV. Ah! do not bring forward such a strange maxim. Jealousy is always odious and monstrous; nothing can soften its injurious attacks; the dearer the object of our love is to us, the more deeply we feel its offensive attempts. To see a pa.s.sionate Prince, losing every moment that respect with which love inspires its real votaries; to see him, when his whole mind is a prey to jealousy, finding fault either with what I like or dislike, and explaining every look of mine in favour of a rival!

[Footnote: Moliere has expressed the same thoughts differently in _The Bores_, Act ii. scene 4.]