Introduction

Savinien Hercule de Cyrano Bergerac, swashbuckler, hero, poet, and philosopher, came of an old and noble family, richer in titles than in estates. His grandfather still kept most of the titles, and was called Savinien de Cyrano Mauvières Bergerac Saint-Laurent. He was secretary to the King in 1571, and held other important offices. Since there was no absolute right of primo-geniture in those matters, the names, as well as what was left of the properties they had represented, were distributed among his descendants. Our hero seems to have received a fair share of the titles; but of the property, nothing.

Savinien Hercule de Cyrano Bergerac was a swashbuckler, hero, poet, and philosopher. He came from an old noble family, richer in titles than in land. His grandfather still held most of the titles and was called Savinien de Cyrano Mauvières Bergerac Saint-Laurent. He was secretary to the King in 1571 and held other important offices. There was no absolute right of the eldest son to inherit these things. So the names were divided among his descendants, along with what remained of the properties they had represented. Our hero seems to have received a fair share of the titles, but none of the property.

He was the fifth among seven children, and was born on the 6th of March, 1619; not in 1620, as has been usually stated. He was born, moreover, at Paris, not in Gascony; we must, alas, admit that he was not a Gascon. He ought to have been one, he certainly deserved to be one. But Fortune, who seems to have taken pleasure in always making him just miss his destiny, began by doing him this first and greatest wrong of not letting him be born a Gascon. The family was not even of distant Gascon origin, but was Périgourdin; Bergerac itself is a small town near Périgueux. Cyrano, however, did his best to repair this as well as the other wrongs of Destiny; he acquired the Gascon accent, and often made himself pass for a Gascon.

He was the fifth of seven children, born on March 6, 1619, not in 1620, as people have usually claimed. He was also born in Paris, not Gascony. Alas, we must admit that he was not a Gascon. He ought to have been one, and he certainly deserved to be one. But Fortune seems to have taken pleasure in always making him just miss his destiny. She began by doing him this first and greatest wrong: not letting him be born a Gascon. His family was not even distantly Gascon in origin, but Périgourdin. Bergerac itself is a small town near Périgueux. Cyrano, however, did his best to make up for this and the other wrongs of Destiny. He adopted a Gascon accent and often passed himself off as a Gascon.

The fortune of his early education made him fall into the hands of a country curate, who was an insufferable pedant (the species seems to have been common at that time), and who had no real scholarship (the two things are by no means contradictory). Cyrano dubbed his master an "Aristotelic Ass," and wrote to his father that he preferred Paris.

Early in his education, chance placed him under the care of a country curate. The curate was an unbearable pedant (such people seem to have been common at the time). He also had no real scholarship (the two are by no means incompatible). Cyrano called his teacher an "Aristotelic Ass" and wrote to his father that he preferred Paris.

This period of exile had one very important result, however: the formation of his first and most lasting friendship, that with Lebret, who shared in the instruction of the country curate, but with a more docile acceptance of his teachings. Here again Fortune seems to have played tricks with Cyrano, in giving him by accident for lifelong friend one who just missed being what a real friend should be; who was true and loyal, but who was always seeking to reform Cyrano or to push him forward in the world; who admired him, who loved him, but who was of such opposite nature that he understood him not at all.

This period of exile had one very important result, however. Cyrano formed his first and most lasting friendship, with Lebret. Lebret studied with him under the local curate, but accepted the curate’s teachings more readily. Here again, Fortune seems to have played tricks on Cyrano. By chance, she gave him a lifelong friend who fell just short of what a real friend should be. Lebret was true and loyal, but he was always trying to reform Cyrano or advance him in the world. He admired and loved Cyrano, but his nature was so different that he did not understand him at all.

Back at Paris, Cyrano was sent to the Collège de Beauvais afterward Racine's college where he completed the course, under the principalship of another pedant named Grangier, who was a little more scholarly, but no less ridiculous than the first, and who figures in the leading rôle of Cyrano's comedy Le Pédant joué. He lived the Paris student's life, burning honest tradesmen's signs and "doing other crazy things," as his contemporary Tallemant des Réaux tells us. On leaving college he started upon a downward track, according to Lebret; "on which," says the same good Lebret, "I dare to boast that I stopped him ... by compelling him to enter the company of the Guards with me." It may be doubted whether a temporary suspension of the paternal allowance had nothing to do with the matter; and whether, after all, Cyrano felt so much repugnance to entering this company of the Guards.

Back in Paris, Cyrano was sent to the Collège de Beauvais, where he completed his studies. Racine later attended the same college. Its principal was another pedant named Grangier. He was a little more learned than the first, but just as ridiculous. He plays the leading role in Cyrano's comedy Le Pédant joué. Cyrano lived like a Paris student, burning honest tradesmen's signs and "doing other crazy things," as his contemporary Tallemant des Réaux tells us. According to Lebret, Cyrano began to go astray after leaving college. The same good Lebret says, "I dare to boast that I stopped him ... by compelling him to enter the company of the Guards with me." But one may doubt that a temporary suspension of his father's allowance had nothing to do with it. And, after all, one may also doubt that Cyrano was so reluctant to join the Guards.

For this company was the famous regiment of the "garde-nobles," commanded by Carbon de Castel-Jaloux, a "triple Gascon" and a "triple brave." And his men were hardly a step behind him, all of them nobles that was an essential condition of entrance and almost all of them Gascons. Cyrano, at first in the position rather of the Christian than of the Cyrano of M. Rostand's play, by his gallantry and wit compelled them to accept him, and even won among these "braves" the title of "démon de la bravoure." Unable to be the most Gascon of the Gascons, he made it up by being more Gascon than the Gascons.

This company was the famous regiment of the "garde-nobles," commanded by Carbon de Castel-Jaloux. He was a "triple Gascon" and a "triple brave." His men were hardly a step behind him. All were nobles, which was essential for joining the regiment, and almost all were Gascons. At first, Cyrano's position was more like Christian's than Cyrano's in M. Rostand's play. But his courage and wit compelled the men to accept him. He even won the title of "démon de la bravoure" among these "braves." Unable to be the most Gascon of the Gascons, he made up for it by being more Gascon than the Gascons.

Among his exploits the most famous is that of the fight with the hundred ruffians; for this appears to be not a dramatic creation or a legend, but history. One of his poet-friends, Linière (the name is sometimes spelt Lignière) a writer of epigram and contributor to the "Recueils" or "Keep-sakes" of the epoch, had wounded the susceptibilities of a certain "grand seigneur," who planned to avenge himself by the same method which another noble lord, in the eighteenth century, actually used against Voltaire. He posted his hundred men at the Porte de Nesle, to waylay Linière. Linière, hearing of it, came to take refuge with Cyrano for the night. But Cyrano would not receive him. "No, you shall sleep at home," said he. "Here, take this lantern" (this is M. Brun's version), "walk behind me and hold the light, and I'll make bed-quilts of them for you!" And the next morning there were found scattered about the Porte de Nesle two dead men, seven wounded, and many hats, sticks, and pikes.

His most famous exploit is his fight with the hundred thugs. The fight appears to be history, not a dramatic invention or a legend. One of his poet friends, Linière, had offended a certain "grand seigneur," or nobleman. Linière's name is sometimes spelled Lignière. He wrote epigrams and contributed to the "Recueils" or "Keep-sakes" of the time. The nobleman planned to take revenge in the same way another nobleman actually did against Voltaire in the eighteenth century. He stationed his hundred men at the Porte de Nesle to ambush Linière. When Linière heard about the ambush, he came to Cyrano for shelter that night. But Cyrano would not take him in. "No, you'll sleep at home," he said. "Here, take this lantern," he continued, according to M. Brun's version. "Walk behind me and hold the light, and I'll make bed quilts of them for you!" The next morning, two dead men, seven wounded men, and many hats, sticks, and pikes were found scattered around the Porte de Nesle.

According to Lebret's account, the battle took place in broad daylight, and had several witnesses. For the rest, his story coincides with that above. And all versions agree in saying that M. de Cuigy and M. de Brissailles both men of the time fairly well known: one the son of an Advocate of the Parliament of Paris, the other Mestre de Camp of the Prince de Conti's regiment bore witness to the facts; and that the story became generally known, and was never denied. Perhaps it will not be well to guarantee the exactness of the number one hundred; but the story must be for the most part true.

According to Lebret, the battle took place in broad daylight, and several people witnessed it. Otherwise, his account agrees with the one above. All versions agree that M. de Cuigy and M. de Brissailles testified to the facts. Both men were fairly well known at the time. One was the son of an Advocate of the Parliament of Paris. The other was Mestre de Camp of the Prince de Conti's regiment. All versions also agree that the story became widely known and was never denied. Perhaps we should not guarantee that the number was exactly one hundred, but the story must be mostly true.

Another exploit, less magnificent, but perhaps as characteristic of the wild temper of Cyrano, is his battle with Fagotin. A mountebank named Brioché had a theatre of marionnettes, near the Pont-Neuf, and used an ape called Fagotin, fantastically dressed, to attract spectators. Some enemy of Cyrano, perhaps Dassoucy, one day persuaded Brioché to dress his ape up in imitation of Cyrano, with long sword and nose as long. Cyrano, arriving and seeing this parody of himself exalted on a platform, unsheathes in blind rage, drives the crowd of lackeys and loafers right and left with the flat of his sword, and impales the poor ape who was holding out his sword in a posture of self-defence. According to the contemporary pamphlet, partly in prose and partly in verse, which was made upon this marvellous adventure, Brioché brought suit for damages against Bergerac. But even in these ridiculous circumstances Cyrano managed to get the laughers on his side; and claiming that in the country of art there was no such thing as gold and silver, and that he had a right to pay in the money of the country, he promised to eternize the dead ape in Apollinic verse; and so was acquitted.

Another exploit was less magnificent, but perhaps just as characteristic of Cyrano’s wild temper. This was his battle with Fagotin. A showman named Brioché had a puppet theater near the Pont-Neuf. He used a fantastically dressed ape called Fagotin to attract spectators. One day, an enemy of Cyrano, perhaps Dassoucy, persuaded Brioché to dress the ape like Cyrano. Fagotin wore a long sword and an equally long nose. Cyrano arrived and saw this parody of himself raised on a platform. In blind rage, he drew his sword and drove the crowd of lackeys and loafers aside with its flat. Then he ran the poor ape through, though Fagotin was holding out his sword in self-defense. A pamphlet of the time described this marvelous adventure, partly in prose and partly in verse. According to the pamphlet, Brioché sued Bergerac for damages. But even in these ridiculous circumstances, Cyrano managed to get the laughers on his side. He claimed that gold and silver did not exist in the country of art. He also claimed the right to pay in that country’s currency. He promised to make the dead ape immortal in Apollinic verse, and so he was acquitted.

The story of Montfleury, the fat actor whom Cyrano detested, is hardly less fantastic; and in connection with it we have the witness of Cyrano's own letter "Against Montfleury the Fat, bad Actor and bad Author," the tenth of the Satiric Letters. According to all the books of theatrical anecdotes, Cyrano one evening ordered him off the stage, and forbade him to reappear for a month; and when two days later he did reappear, Cyrano once more drove him in disgrace to the wings. The audience protesting, Cyrano challenged them each and all to meet him in duel, and carried his point. Whether he offered to take down their names in order or not, does not appear.

The story of Montfleury, the fat actor Cyrano hated, is hardly less fantastic. We also have evidence in Cyrano's own letter "Against Montfleury the Fat, bad Actor and bad Author," the tenth of the Satiric Letters. According to all the books of theatrical anecdotes, Cyrano once ordered Montfleury off the stage one evening. He forbade him to return for a month. When Montfleury returned two days later, Cyrano again drove him offstage in disgrace. The audience protested, but Cyrano challenged each and every one of them to a duel and got his way. Whether he offered to take down their names in order is not clear.

In the meantime, more serious work turned up. The regiment of the cadets was sent against the Germans, entered Mouzon, was besieged there. In a sortie, Cyrano was seriously wounded, a musket-ball passing through his body. Hardly recovered from his wound, he rejoined the army at the siege of Arras, in 1640; unfortunately for the story, he was probably no longer with the cadets there, but in the regiment of the Prince de Conti. Again he was wounded, this time even more seriously, with a sword-cut in the throat. And compelled to abandon the military career, he returned to Paris and took up his studies and his writing.

Meanwhile, more serious work arose. The cadet regiment was sent against the Germans, entered Mouzon, and was besieged there. During a sortie, Cyrano was seriously wounded when a musket ball passed through his body. Hardly recovered, he rejoined the army at the siege of Arras in 1640. Unfortunately for the story, he was probably no longer with the cadets there, but with the Prince de Conti's regiment. He was wounded again, this time even more seriously, by a sword cut to the throat. Forced to give up his military career, he returned to Paris and resumed his studies and writing.

For he had always been a student and a poet. It is probable that the Pédant joué was in part composed during his college days. Lebret pictures him to us as studying between two duels, and working at an Elegy in all the noise of the regimental barracks, "as undistractedly as if he had been in a quiet study." He now joined a group of independents in thought and life, naturalists in ethics and empiricists in philosophy, and forced his way into a private class of the philosopher Gassendi, where he had for fellow-students Hesnaut, Chapelle, Bernier, and almost certainly a young Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, who was very soon to take the name of Molière, found the "Illustre Théâtre," and after its failure start on a fifteen years' tour of the provinces.

For he had always been a student and a poet. He probably wrote part of Pédant joué during his college days. Lebret describes him studying between duels and working on an Elegy amid all the noise of the regimental barracks, "as undistractedly as if he had been in a quiet study." He now joined a group of people who were independent in thought and life, naturalists in ethics and empiricists in philosophy. He also pushed his way into a private class taught by the philosopher Gassendi. His fellow students included Hesnaut, Chapelle, Bernier, and almost certainly a young Jean-Baptiste Poquelin. Poquelin would soon take the name Molière and found the "Illustre Théâtre." After the theater failed, he would begin a fifteen-year tour of the provinces.

Cyrano was an earnest and capable student of philosophy, and came to it with the fresh interest not only of his own personality, but of a young man of barely twenty-two; he naturally imposed himself as a sort of leader in the group of young "libertins" or free-thinkers, just as he had done among the Guards. He knew well not only Gassendi, but also Campanella, and of course Descartes, in his works at least. He even seems to have read widely among the half-philosophers, half-occultists of the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, such as Cornelius Agrippa, Jerome Cardan, Abbot Tritheim, César de Nostradamus, etc. Among the ancients, his first favorites were Lucretius and Pyrrho: Pyrrho whom he especially admired, "because he was so nobly free, that no thinker of his age had been able to enslave his opinions; and so modest, that he would never give final decision on any point." There is much of Cyrano in this phrase, both in the half-bold modesty and in the half-timid fierceness of independence. Cyrano shuddered at the thought of having even a single one of his ideas enslaved to those of another thinker. Just as he had refused the Maréchal de Gassion for patron when he was in the Guards, so he would accept no one's magister dixit, no patron of his thought, not even the Aristotle of the Schools.

Cyrano was a serious and capable student of philosophy. He approached it with the fresh interest of his own personality and that of a young man of barely twenty-two. He naturally became a kind of leader among the young "libertins," or free-thinkers, just as he had among the Guards. He knew not only Gassendi well, but also Campanella and, of course, Descartes, at least through his works. He even seems to have read widely among the writers of the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries who were part philosopher, part occultist. These included Cornelius Agrippa, Jerome Cardan, Abbot Tritheim, César de Nostradamus, and others. Among ancient thinkers, his first favorites were Lucretius and Pyrrho. He especially admired Pyrrho "because he was so nobly free that no thinker of his age had been able to enslave his opinions. He was also so modest that he would never give a final decision on any point." There is much of Cyrano in this description, both in its half-bold modesty and its half-timid fierce independence. Cyrano shuddered at the thought of even one of his ideas being enslaved to those of another thinker. He had refused the Maréchal de Gassion as a patron when he was in the Guards. In the same way, he would accept no one's magister dixit, no patron for his thought, not even the Aristotle of the Schools.

The period of his life from 1643 to 1653 is a very obscure one. Yet probably almost all of his works were composed during this time. He may have travelled; there are traditions and suggestions that he visited England, Italy, even Poland. He probably stood in danger of persecution from the Jesuits on account of his philosophical ideas, and may have suffered it, as did his contemporaries Campanella and Galileo, or, to mention a French poet only a little older than he, Théophile de Viau, who was even condemned to death for less independence than Cyrano's; though the sentence was fortunately commuted. He probably mingled somewhat in the society of the "Précieuses" of the time as well as in that of the "libertins"; for he has left a series of "Love-Letters" which must almost exactly have suited the taste of those who prepared Discourses on the Tender Passion. He probably had many duels still, for Lebret tells us that he served a hundred times as second—the round number is to be taken as such—and any one acquainted with the epoch, or with the Three Musketeers of Dumas, knows that the seconds fought as well as the principals. Lebret adds, to be sure, that he never had a quarrel on his own account, but we may perhaps take this as a bit of the conscientious "white-washing" which Lebret could not refrain from in speaking of his friend's reputation; for we know enough of his character even from Lebret, and of his life from other sources, to make a gentle peacefulness, so out of keeping with the epoch, somewhat doubtful; and then there was his nose.

The years from 1643 to 1653 are a very obscure period in his life. Yet he probably wrote almost all his works during that time. He may have traveled. Stories and hints suggest that he visited England, Italy, and even Poland. His philosophical ideas probably put him in danger of persecution by the Jesuits. He may even have been persecuted, as were his contemporaries Campanella and Galileo. Or, to mention a French poet only a little older than Cyrano, there was Théophile de Viau. He was even sentenced to death for showing less independence than Cyrano, though fortunately his sentence was reduced. Cyrano probably spent some time among the "Précieuses" of the day, as well as among the "libertins". He left a series of "Love-Letters" that must have been almost exactly to the taste of those who prepared Discourses on the Tender Passion. He probably still fought many duels. Lebret tells us that he served as a second a hundred times, though the number is clearly approximate. Anyone familiar with the period, or with Dumas's Three Musketeers, knows that seconds fought alongside the principals. Lebret adds, it is true, that Cyrano never quarreled on his own account. But perhaps this was a bit of the conscientious "white-washing" that Lebret could not resist when discussing his friend's reputation. Even Lebret tells us enough about Cyrano's character, and other sources enough about his life, to make such gentle peacefulness doubtful. It would have been so out of keeping with the period. And then there was his nose.

The Nose is authentic also. It appears in all the portraits, of which there are four. And in all of these it is the same: not a little ugly nose, flat at the top and projecting at the bottom in a little long gable turned up at the end; but a large, generous, well-shaped nose, hooked rather than retroussé, and planted squarely in the symmetrical middle of the face; not ridiculous, but monumental! The anecdotes of the duels it caused are so many, that one comes in spite of oneself to believe some of them. It is said that this nose brought death upon more than ten persons; that one could not look upon it, but he must unsheathe; if one looked away, it was worse; and as for speaking of Noses, that was a subject which Cyrano reserved for himself, to do it fitting honor. Listen to his treatment of it in the Pédant joué: "This veridic nose arrives everywhere a quarter of an hour before its master. Ten shoemakers, good round fat ones too, go and sit down to work under it out of the rain." As for defending large noses, as the index of valor, intelligence, and all high qualities, it will appear in the Voyage to the Moon that he could do it as well with his pen as with his sword.

The Nose is real, too. It appears in all four portraits. In each one, it is the same. It is not a little ugly nose, flat at the top and sticking out below like a little long gable, turned up at the end. It is a large, generous, well-shaped nose, hooked rather than turned up, and set squarely in the center of the symmetrical face. It is not ridiculous, but monumental! There are so many stories of the duels it caused that one cannot help believing some of them. It is said that this nose caused the deaths of more than ten people. If anyone looked at it, Cyrano had to draw his sword. If anyone looked away, that was worse. As for talking about noses, Cyrano reserved that subject for himself, so he could give it proper honor. Listen to how he describes it in Pédant joué: "This truthful nose arrives everywhere a quarter of an hour before its master. Ten shoemakers, good round fat ones too, sit down to work under it, out of the rain." He defended large noses as signs of courage, intelligence, and all the highest qualities. As the Voyage to the Moon will show, he could defend them as well with his pen as with his sword.

The end of his life was difficult and sad. He was finally compelled to accept the patronage of the Duc d'Arpajon, for no man could live or even exist by literature at that period, except as literature brought patronage or pensions. The great Corneille himself, than whom no one could be more simply sturdy and high of character, wrote begging letters to the great minister who controlled the pensions of literature. Cyrano dedicated the edition of his "Miscellaneous Works" in 1654 to the Duc d'Arpajon, in an epistle which fulfils, but with dignity and independence, the laws of the genre, and accompanied it with a sonnet addressed to the Duke's daughter, which is in the taste of the time, yet considerably better than the taste of the time. Things went well till Agrippine appeared, which had a "succès de scandale"; but its "belles impiétés," as the happy book-seller called them, seem to have pleased the timidly orthodox Duke less. In the meantime Cyrano had received a wound from a falling beam whether by mere accident or not, will never be known; but Cyrano had many enemies, and it has generally been thought that there was purpose behind the accident. For whatever reason, the Duc d'Arpajon seems to have advised Cyrano to leave him, and Cyrano was received by Regnault des Bois-Clairs, a friend of Lebret. There he was kindly cared for and lectured on the evil of his past life by Lebret and three women of the Convent of the Daughters of the Cross: Soeur Hyacinthe, an aunt of Cyrano himself; Mère Marguerite, the superior of the convent; and the Baronne de Neuvillette, a cousin of Cyrano, who was Madeleine Robineau, and had married the Baron Christophe de Neuvillette, killed at the siege of Arras in 1640. The three women persuaded themselves that they had converted Cyrano to the true Church. This is doubtful, since he dragged himself away to the country to die, at the house of the cousin whom he speaks of at the end of the Voyage to the Moon. In any case, Mère Marguerite reclaimed his body, and he was buried in holy ground at the convent.

The end of his life was difficult and sad. He was finally forced to accept the patronage of the Duc d'Arpajon. At that time, no one could live, or even survive, by writing unless it brought patronage or pensions. Even the great Corneille wrote begging letters to the powerful minister who controlled literary pensions. Yet no one could have been more straightforward, steadfast, or noble in character. In 1654, Cyrano dedicated the edition of his "Miscellaneous Works" to the Duc d'Arpajon. His dedication followed the rules of the genre, but did so with dignity and independence. He also included a sonnet addressed to the Duke's daughter. It reflected the taste of the time, yet was considerably better than that taste. Things went well until Agrippine appeared and had a "succès de scandale", a success fueled by scandal. But its "belles impiétés", as the resourceful bookseller called its fine impieties, seem to have pleased the timidly orthodox Duke less. In the meantime, Cyrano had been wounded by a falling beam. Whether it was simply an accident will never be known. But Cyrano had many enemies, and people have generally thought the accident was deliberate. For whatever reason, the Duc d'Arpajon seems to have advised Cyrano to leave him. Cyrano was then taken in by Regnault des Bois-Clairs, a friend of Lebret. There, Lebret and three women from the Convent of the Daughters of the Cross cared for him kindly. They also lectured him about the evils of his past life. The women were Soeur Hyacinthe, Cyrano's aunt, Mère Marguerite, the convent's superior, and the Baronne de Neuvillette, Cyrano's cousin. The Baronne was Madeleine Robineau, who had married the Baron Christophe de Neuvillette. He was killed at the siege of Arras in 1640. The three women persuaded themselves that they had converted Cyrano to the true Church. This is doubtful, since he dragged himself away to the country to die. He went to the house of the cousin he mentions at the end of the Voyage to the Moon. In any case, Mère Marguerite reclaimed his body, and he was buried in holy ground at the convent.

The Voyage to the Moon was not published till 1656, the year after Cyrano's death. It was certainly written as early as 1650, probably in 1649. It had been circulated widely in manuscript, and possibly a few copies had been printed, before the author's death. The Voyage to the Sun, or, to give the title more accurately, the "Comic History of the States and Empires of the Sun," was probably written immediately after the Voyage to the Moon, but was not published till 1662. The History of the Spark has never been found, unless that be the subtitle of a part of the Voyage to the Sun, as seems fairly probable.

The Voyage to the Moon was not published until 1656, the year after Cyrano's death. It was certainly written by 1650, and probably in 1649. Before Cyrano died, the manuscript had circulated widely, and a few copies may have been printed. The Voyage to the Sun was probably written immediately after the Voyage to the Moon, but was not published until 1662. Its more accurate title is the "Comic History of the States and Empires of the Sun." The History of the Spark has never been found. It seems fairly likely, however, that this is the subtitle of a part of the Voyage to the Sun.

The Letters of Cyrano are, in part at least, his earliest work. They were probably scattered over a considerable period in point of composition, but most of them were published in 1654. It is to be remembered that like all the letters of that epoch which we have, they were meant to be read in company, in the salons, or sometimes (like that "Against Dassoucy"), in the taverns, corresponding to the modern cafés, where men of letters gathered. They were written not for the postman, but for the parlor; and not so much for the parlor as for the printer. But even with the artificiality of this method, and with the burlesque or précieuse expression that was obligatory in Letters at that time, there are touches of real sincerity and passion constantly breaking through.

Cyrano’s Letters are, at least in part, his earliest work. He probably wrote them over a considerable period, but most were published in 1654. Like all surviving letters from that era, they were meant to be read aloud in company. People read them in salons, or sometimes in taverns, like the one "Against Dassoucy". Those taverns were like modern cafés, where writers gathered. The letters were written not for the postman, but for the parlor, and even more for the printer. But despite this artificial approach and the burlesque or précieuse style then required in letters, moments of genuine sincerity and passion constantly break through.

The Pédant joué is a prose-comedy in five acts, made almost entirely on the model of the Italian "commedia dell' arte," a form in which Molière's early work is written, and which was practically the only form known at the time when Cyrano wrote for the play is certainly anterior to Corneille's Menteur. We have the almost obligatory two pairs of young lovers; the old father who is tyrannical but easily deceived in this particular case combined with the pedant-doctor type; the valet who does the deceiving, in the service of the young lovers; and the terrible captain, who takes flight at the shadow of danger. Cyrano has, however, introduced one new type a peasant with his dialect and local characteristics: a type that Molière used to great advantage later, but hardly so very much better than Cyrano uses it here; witness the fact that a number of this peasant's phrases have become proverbs. The famous scene of "qu'allait-il faire dans cette galère" (despairingly repeated by the father who is compelled to give up his cherished money for the ransom of a son held in captivity supposedly on a Turkish galley) is exceedingly well imagined, and Molière did well to use it, sixteen years after Cyrano's death, for the two best scenes of his Fourberies de Scapin. It is not a matter to reproach Molière with, but it is a case in which Cyrano should receive due credit.

The Pédant joué is a five-act prose comedy based almost entirely on the Italian "commedia dell' arte" model. Molière used this form in his early work. It was practically the only form known when Cyrano wrote, since the play was certainly written before Corneille's Menteur. It has the almost obligatory two pairs of young lovers. It also has a tyrannical but easily fooled father, who in this case is also a pedant-doctor. A valet deceives him on the young lovers' behalf, and a fearsome captain flees at the shadow of danger. Cyrano, however, introduced one new type: a peasant with his own dialect and local characteristics. Molière later used this type to great advantage, but hardly much better than Cyrano does here. Several of this peasant's phrases have become proverbs. The famous scene of "qu'allait-il faire dans cette galère" is exceptionally well imagined. The father repeats the phrase in despair as he is forced to give up his cherished money. He must pay a ransom for a son supposedly held captive on a Turkish galley. Molière did well to use the scene for the two best scenes of his Fourberies de Scapin, sixteen years after Cyrano's death. This is not something to reproach Molière for, but Cyrano should receive due credit.

The only serious poetical work of Cyrano is his tragedy of Agrippine, veuve de Germanicus, written at some time in the forties, played in 1653, and published in 1654. The statement, repeated categorically by Mr. Sidney Lee in his recent Life of Shakespeare, that "Cyrano de Bergerac plagiarized 'Cymbeline,' 'Hamlet,' and 'The Merchant of Venice' in his 'Agrippina,'" has not the slightest foundation. There are no resemblances, either superficial or essential, on which to base it, and it is altogether improbable that Cyrano even knew of Shakespeare's existence. The subject of Agrippine is similar to that of Corneille's Cinna—a conspiracy under the Roman Empire. There are no resemblances to Corneille's work in the details of the plot, but in general spirit the play is what we call Cornelian, partly because Corneille was the only one who possessed this spirit of the epoch with sufficient creative and individual power to compel the attention of posterity. Cyrano, once more, just missed this. But his play is worthy not only to be ranked with the best dramas of any of his contemporaries except Corneille, but even to be at least compared with Corneille's better work (except perhaps the Cid and Polyeucte). The play is not thoroughly well constructed, and so misses something of dramatic effectiveness, though by no means missing it entirely; but it is as well constructed as Corneille's Cinna, and better than his Horace to take examples only among his greatest plays. It has no scene to compare with that of the clemency of Augustus in Cinna, no character-study so fine as that of the different sentiments of Augustus. But it approaches, though it does not quite attain, the heroics of Horace. It is full of exaggeration so is Corneille; and of an exaggeration that sometimes becomes burlesque as in Corneille; but it is an exaggeration that is high and heroic, like Corneille's. And the high and heroic sometimes as in a line like this:

Cyrano's only serious poetic work is his tragedy Agrippine, veuve de Germanicus. He wrote it sometime in the 1640s. It was performed in 1653 and published in 1654. In his recent Life of Shakespeare, Mr. Sidney Lee repeats a claim as fact: "Cyrano de Bergerac plagiarized 'Cymbeline,' 'Hamlet,' and 'The Merchant of Venice' in his 'Agrippina.'" This claim has no foundation whatsoever. There are no similarities, either superficial or essential, to support it. It is altogether improbable that Cyrano even knew Shakespeare existed. The subject of Agrippine is similar to that of Corneille's Cinna: a conspiracy under the Roman Empire. The details of the plot bear no resemblance to Corneille's work. But the play's general spirit is what we call Cornelian. This is partly because Corneille alone captured the spirit of the age with enough creative and individual power to command posterity's attention. Cyrano, once again, just missed doing so. But his play deserves to rank with the best dramas of any of his contemporaries except Corneille. It deserves at least to be compared with Corneille's better work, except perhaps the Cid and Polyeucte. The play is not entirely well constructed, so it loses some dramatic effect, though by no means all of it. But it is as well constructed as Corneille's Cinna and better constructed than his Horace. These examples are drawn only from his greatest plays. Cyrano's play has no scene to compare with Augustus's act of mercy in Cinna. It has no character study as fine as the portrayal of Augustus's different feelings. But it approaches the heroics of Horace, though it does not quite match them. Like Corneille's plays, it is full of exaggeration. And as in Corneille, that exaggeration sometimes becomes burlesque. But it is a noble and heroic exaggeration, like Corneille's. And the noble and heroic sometimes, as in a line like this:

sometimes, but too rarely, drops its exaggeration to become simple as simple as real heroism, which is the simplest thing in the world.

sometimes, but too rarely, stops exaggerating and becomes simple, as simple as real heroism, the simplest thing in the world.

Except real genius. Real genius is, finally, the essential thing, which Cyrano once more just missed attaining missed just by the lack of that simplicity, perhaps. But exaggeration, sometimes carried to the burlesque, is the essential trait which makes him what he is; and we cannot wish it away.

Except for real genius. In the end, real genius is what matters most, and Cyrano once again just fell short of it. Perhaps he fell short only because he lacked simplicity. But exaggeration, sometimes taken to the point of absurdity, is the essential trait that makes him who he is. We cannot wish it away.

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