PLAYS AND POEMS BY M. DE BORNIER.* THE author of

Mahamet is well known in France, though little known in England, as a dramatic poet. His first success,

as far as we know, was gained at the Theittre Francais with Agamemnon, a tragedy adapted from Seneca, in 1868. But he took a much higher place in public esteem when La File de Roland, lately revived at the Francais, was first acted there in 1875. This very fine play seems to have appealed to all the romance, the hero-worship, which then existed in the hearts of French people. Now, after the strides that a base materialism, with all its attendant likes and dislikes, has made in the last fifteen years, one is surprised to find an audience at the Francais roused to enthusiasm by La Fills de Roland. In 1875, the war was not long over, French people were conscious that they bad a history, and were proud of their national heroes. Charlemagne and Roland, then, were names one might conjure with ; and the Vicomte de Bornier was himself surprised at the power of the old traditions :—

" En etudiant chaque jour lea impressions de in foule, j'ai eu le bonheur de reconnaitre entre elle et moi une constants coni- munaut4 de sentiments; il y a sans doute de plus grandee gloiree pour un poet:), il n'y a pas de joies plus domes et plus profondes."

• (1.) La Fate de Roland. Drams en 4 actes, en vers. SSme Bdition. 1889.— (24 Les Noses d'Attila. Drams en 4 sates, en vers. 1880.—(3.) L'Apdtre. Drama en 8 Kates, en vers. 1881. Par le Vicomte Henri de Hornier. Paris : E. Dents, Editenr. No doubt much of this success was due to the actors. With M. Mounet-Sully as the hero, and Madame Sarah Bernhardt as the heroine of the play, a less telling story might have carried away an audience ; but the fact remains that the play itself was worthy of its presentation. Its present revival is, of course, owed to the prohibition of Malunnet,—another curious instance of the way in which the French Government defeats its own objects. No Sarah Bernhardt now ; and her successor could hardly expect to make people forget her wonderful acting in this play. But M. Mounet-Sully stilt takes the part of Gerald, his brother is Charlemagne, and M. Silvain, Amaury. The Comedic Francaise is doing its best to make up to M. de Bornier for the dark days that have fallen upon his art, and for the really unaccountable neglect of the French Academy. But we must return to the play as literature.

The Count Amaury, as he is called, lives with his young son Gerald in a hidden stronghold of the forest, not far from the Rhine and the mountains of Saxony. Every one reverences the Count, a noble warrior, and wonders at his hermit life, and at the melancholy which weighs him down. Only one man in the Castle, the monk Radbert, knows Amaury's real history,—that he lives and fights under a false name ; that he is, in fact, the traitor Ganelon, the brother-in-law of Charle- magne, the step-father of Roland, whom he basely betrayed to his death at Roncevaux. Though supposed to have been slain by Charlemagne's orders, his body cast out to the wolves of the forest, he was found and saved by the monks of a neighbouring abbey. After twenty years of penitence, he was an altered man, both in heart and face. And now the young Gerald, returning from hunting, brings with him a lady be has rescued on a pilgrimage from an attack of heathen Saxons, and also the captive chief of this marauding band. The lady makes herself known as Berthe, the daughter of Roland ; and real tragic power, we venture to think, is shown by the writer in his treatment of Amaury, or Ganelon, here and all through the play. In the wild and disturbed state of the country, it is necessary for Berthe to remain a short time under his protection at his castle of Montblois. The natural consequence follows : a strong attachment springs up between the daughter of Roland and the son of Ganelon. When the Royal escort arrives to conduct Berthe to the Court of her uncle Charlemagne, Gerald is permitted, if he chooses, to follow in her train ; but by his father's wish he refuses the offer. Berthe sends him out into the world to fight for her

Et, ne songeant k moi qu'en songeant an devoir, Rendez-vous an Roland—avant de me revoir !"

In the following year, there comes to Charlemagne's Court at Aix-la-Chapelle, a Saracen, boasting the possession of Roland's sword, Durandal, and challenging the nobles of the Court to fight him for this treasure. Already, in thirty days, thirty knights have fallen under the agonised eyes of the Emperor ; and at last, old as he is, he resolves to go himself into the lists against the Saracen, to wipe out this disgrace or die. Then, after the fashion of the old romances, the silver bell without is struck by another champion, and the young hero Gerald appears before the eyes of his king and his lady-love, rides against the Saracen, kills him with Joyense, Charlemagne's own sword, and rescuing Durandal, brings it back in triumph to the Emperor. Now there seems no obstacle to Gerald's marriage with Berthe ; and his unhappy father, lingering alone on the skirts of the crowd that admires Gerald's victory, finding himself unrecognised, resolves to return in silence to his forests, with the joy of feeling that his heroic son has atoned for his crime, and restored his honour. At this instant Charlemagne enters, and calls him by his name, " Ganelon !"

The noble picture of Charlemagne at this moment is one of those flashes of true tragic inspiration which distinguish this play. The struggle in his mind, between horror of the father and love and admiration of the son, is beautifully drawn. He at last tells Gerald, who sees and knows nothing, that in the anxiety of his battle with the Saracen, his father had vowed to go at once as a pilgrim to Jerusalem. But the generosity of the Emperor is not to be allowed to triumph. Ragenhardt, the Saxon captive, whose father Ganelon had slain, comes forward at the moment of the betrothal, and before the whole court announces that Amaury is not the man he seems to be. After this the Count confesses the truth to his son; and Gerald, in spite of the love of Berthe, the generosity of Charlemagne, the honour paid him by all the lords present, friends or sons of friends of Roland, condemns himself, with his father, to a perpetual exile. Then Charlemagne offers him the sword of Roland, and this glorious present Gerald accepts:

4‘ CHARLEMAGNE her pour daivrer Durandal prisonniere,

Je Vai prate joyense.—Aujourd'hui, je fais miens; 11 faut a ton courage us prix plus glorieux ; Je veux que Durandal desormais t'appartienne, Car la main de Roland la mettrait dans la tienne ! La noble epee a soil du sang de l'etranger ; Toi son liberateur, mane-la se venger ; Et quand vous aurez fait ce faut faire encore, Quand vous sures chasm& du eouchant a l'aurore, Nos derniers ennemis comme an troupeau tremblant, Tu la rapporteras an tombeau de Roland ! GERALD.—Oui, sire, a son tombeau, la-bas! en Aquitaine ! Et puis, j'irai chercher use mort plus lointaine. Bzwrsrz.—Et si la mort te fuit, Gerald

GiRALD.— Je marcherai Si loin et d'un tel pas que je la trouverai ! Bzwraz (apres us long silence).—

Eh hien, je me soumets : qui t'aime te reasemble !

Dien fit nos contra pareils : que Dieu soul lee rassemble ! Adieu, Gerald !

CHARLEMAGNE.— Barons, princes, inclinez-vous Devant celui qui part : il est plus grand que nous."

So, in the midst of a crowd of swords lowered in his honour, Berthe's hand pointing him to heaven, Gerald passes out, and

the play ends. We see that it is entirely of an old-fashioned school,—language, construction, high sentiment, all belong to a more romantic period ; and there is no attempt at realism. The story, like the story of Arthur, is legend, and fairly belongs to the land of the ideal.

The same may be said of Les Noces d'.Attila, acted at the -Odeon in 1880; but here the tragic power which makes La Pile tie _Roland pathetic takes a turn towards the horrible : the ideal admits the real so far as to give, sometimes, what

may be not unlike the atmosphere, the savage fury and cruelty, mixed with a sort of wild generosity, of the true Attila and his barbarians. It is a strong and striking play, but the dark- ness of the scene, the horror of the story, is scarcely relieved by a touch of sunlight or of tenderness, and the whole effect is repulsive.

Perhaps, in a certain sense, the most interesting of M. de Bornier's dramas is L'ApOtre, the public representation of which, very wisely, he has not attempted. Even in the days of Corneille, as he reminds us in his preface, it was not without many warnings and misgivings that Polyeucte was put on the stage, and in spite of its success, much powerful

opinion was against it. In modern France, even ten years ago, a drama of the early days of Christianity, with St. Paul

for its hero, was not likely to meet with much favour ; and besides the hatred of unbelievers, the disapproval of the Catholic world had to be reckoned with. We know nothing -of M. de Bornier's religious opinions, except that—witness _L'ApOtre and Mahomet—he is without doubt a Christian. But his Christianity seems to be rather of M. Renan's kind, if we may judge by this play, and by the somewhat familiar and simply human fashion in which he presents his great Apostle.

In England, we should be inclined to call it a fault in taste which makes St. Paul, even unconsciously, so touch the heart -of Lydia, the rich Jewish widow (idealised from the "seller of purple of the city of Thyatira "), that she offers him all she has, and herself as his wife, if he will remain in Macedonia and run into no further dangers. But it will be as well to let M. de Bornier speak for himself, describing the object aimed at by him in this play :—

" Void on que j'ai voulu faire : peindre, dans un cadre restreint, la lutte des &cols religions, polytheisme, judaisme, christianisme.

Le polytheisme est represente dans ce drama par le duumvir Afranius, dont on trouvera facilement le type-modele dans les Dialogues de Lucien; le judaisme, en ce qu'il a d'im- placable, est represente par Elymas, le rabbin sadduceen, c'est-k- dire le type de cette secte absolue, hautaiue, avare, haineuse et cruelle ; le christianisme est represente par Saint Paul, c'est-e,- dire par l'apotre des Gentile. Au premier acts, Saint Paul delivre une esclave de l'oppression criminelle du maitre; an second acts, e'est le maitre delivre de l'erreur et de l'aveuglement; au troisieme sae, il se delivre lui-meme des derniers attachements du monde. N'est-ce point la l'eternelle mission, reternelle recom- pense, l'eternel martyre des grandee Ames? L'Aptitra n'eat done pas a proprement parler us drama en trois actes, mais plutot use trilogie de sentiments Le premier acts est axe sorte d'idylle, le second tient du poexne, le troisieme est axe elegie."

We may add that the subject is touched throughout in a manner which, in spite of a certain French lightness, never

repels by any real irreverence. From a literary point of view, L'ApOtre is perhaps the best worth reading of M. de Bornier's dramas. Among his earlier writings, we are inclined to think that Dante et Matrix, a play in five acts, with a good deal of poetical merit, is not much to be admired. It was a work of the author's young days. He would not now, we hope and believe, touch the almost sacred mystery of the Vila Nuova with so fanciful and daring a hand. But, as his first serious work, it gave the promise of future distinction which has since been realised. M. de Bornier is also the author of two or three historical novels, which are not, we believe, equal in merit to his plays ; and of several lively comedies—Scenes de la Vie de Chateau—notably tin Cousin de Passage, and others acted at different times; besides poems written on various occasions, from La Guerre d'Orient to the occasion of his reception at the Academie des Jeux Floranx. But La File de Roland remains, on the whole, his masterpiece, —" votre bean drame," as says M. Gatien-Arnoult, doyen of that Academy, "qui a si noblement continue lea glorieuses traditions du grand art francais."