Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand

 Source of book: I own this.

 

Last fall, in what turned out to be our last camping trip before California shut things down due to an explosion in Covid-19 cases, we visited California’s Gold Country. One of the highlights of the trip was discovering a wonderful used book store in Jackson, Hein and Company. It’s worth a visit if you are in the area. In addition to a number of hardback Patrick O’Brian books, I found a beautiful Heritage Press edition of Cyrano de Bergerac, one of the classic dramas that was not already in my collection. 

 

Cyrano is a somewhat unique play, in that it is a comedy based on a historic person, namely, Savinien de Cyrano de Bergerac, an author, duelist, and colorful character of the 17th Century. Not too many of the details of his life are known, although some were preserved in a biography of him. It is these details which form the backbone of this play, written by Edmond Rostand in 1897. 

 

The central truth of Cyrano is that the title character is ugly. Really ugly. With a giant nose that everyone notices, but which wise people will never mention or stare at, for fear of being challenged to a duel by Cyrano - who will most assuredly win. Paired with his ugly body is a tremendous wit, a talent for poetry and music, and serious skills with a sword. Cyrano is also a “cadet,” which does not mean a young trainee, but rather an aristocrat who serves voluntarily in the French Army. He is part of a unit of fellow Gascons (kind of the rednecks of France in literature - think The Three Musketeers) who are known for their fearlessness, wit, and skill in battle. 

 

Cyrano goes around with a boulder on his shoulder, prouder of making enemies than friends. But he is also fun to be around because of his wit, and his willingness to expose and ridicule the hypocrisy of his society. Actually, those go together. Cyrano “punches up,” so to speak: he takes on the religious and civil authorities, the rich and powerful, and treats his social inferiors with respect. 

 

All is not well for Cyrano, however. He is madly in love with his distant cousin, Roxanne, but she is in love with the devastatingly handsome Christian. What is Christian to do? He is a tongue-tied doofus who can’t string together a coherent thought, particularly when in the presence of a beautiful woman. So he consults Cyrano, who, taking a liking to the young man, writes his lines for him. He enables Christian to successfully woo Roxanne, who marries him. Alas, the marriage is short-lived, as Christian is killed in battle. Roxanne enters a convent to mourn his death, only discovering that Cyrano was behind the eloquence she fell in love with when Cyrano is on his deathbed - after getting hit by a beam of wood, possibly tossed by an assassin. Around this love story is a duel set to poetry (see below), a trick played on an elderly and wealthy suitor, a really pointless battle, an innkeeper whose artistry in cooking is exceeded only by his lack of ability as a poet, and, of course, a lot of hilarious lines. 

 

Since I do not speak or read French beyond a few words (and don’t ask about my execrable pronunciation), I read this in English translation. The translator was Louis Untermeyer, who chose to write it in mostly blank verse, rather than the original rhyming poetry, as he felt it would be a bit of a distraction. There are a few exceptions, such as the Ballade, which is rendered in the original form. (In addition, there is an insert in this addition with no fewer than seven different translations of the Ballade plus the original French version.) You can read all of them, and a brief analysis of the form here. There are also delightful illustrations by Pierre Brissaud. 

 

This edition also is interesting for the layout. Rather than the usual “Drama” format, it uses three different fonts. The main text is in 14 point Times New Roman, and as the words pass from speaker to speaker, they are kept in line so that the original line lengths are apparent. (Often one line will have several speakers with a word or two.) The stage directions are in 8 point TNR italic, with the speakers’ names in 6 point News Gothic. Thus, the actual spoken words dominate, with the framework in the background, so to speak. It is a bit different, but I rather enjoyed it. Here is a picture, just to give the idea: 

 

I should mention a few of my favorite lines. First is in the first scene, where Cyrano disrupts a concert, because an actor Cyrano banished for bad acting is trying to continue to perform. Cyrano becomes the center of attention, to the delight of the audience, and matches wits with the cross-section of society from the aristocracy to the pickpockets. Here is one exchange, when the audience calls for a particular song:

 

CYRANO: Just one more word

Of that cheap song and I will clear the hall!

TRADESMAN: And who are you? Samson?

CYRANO: How did you know? 

I’m looking for the jawbone of an ass.

Perhaps you’ll lend me yours.

 

After some uproar, Cyrano offers to fight anyone who wants a piece of him. 

 

CYRANO: Won’t someone try? Won’t someone unafraid

To die please raise his hand? Not one? Perhaps

You’re all so virginal you’d blush to see

A naked sword. Refreshing modesty!

 

He also explains his contempt for the actor. 

 

YOUNG MAN: Beg pardon, monsieur, but

Why do you hate Montfleury so?

CYRANO: Young man,

There are two reasons, each one great enough

To earn my condemnation and contempt.

First: He’s a stupid actor, mouths his words,

Chews up the scenery, and beats the air

With flailing arms. He leans his weight on lines

That, otherwise, would soar in singing joy.

Second: That is my secret. 

 

Valvert, not amused at Cyrano’s antics, goes up and insults Cyrano’s nose. Except, he kind of botches the thing, and ends up with the lamest insult ever. “Your nose - is - very - very - big.” 

 

Cyrano is thrilled for the opportunity to show his wit, and then goes on to offer two whole pages of better insults that Valvert could have used. Literally two pages. As far as I can tell, not every production uses them all, which is a shame, because they are pretty witty. 

 

“Belligerent: Sir, when you light your pipe, and smoke blows through your nose, the neighbors cry ‘look out! Another chimney is on fire!”

“Lyric: Is this the ocean shell, the wreathed horn, that Triton blew with the old gods were young?”

 

And so on. And on. It’s brilliant. This leads to Valvert losing his cool (despite efforts to restrain him) and challenging Cyrano to a duel. Cyrano continues to have fun at Valvert’s expense. 

 

CYRANO: But I wear no gloves. Alas, you’re right.

Too bad. I did have one - half a pair -

But now it’s gone. Some fool insulted me;

And so, of course, I flung it in his face.

VALVERT: Fool! Rascal! Knave! Avsured flat-footed clown.

CYRANO (bowing): Ah, yes indeed...And I am Cyrano Savinien Hercule de Bergerac. 

 

Cyrano then pretends to have a cramp, before explaining that his sword has gone to sleep for lack of exercise. 

 

Ah, and then, the duel. Cyrano explains that he is indeed a poet, and will fence in rhyme, improvising a Ballade as he does so - and will stab Valvert on the last word. I mentioned the different translations, which you can read here. I will go with the Untermeyer version. 

 

My hat is flung swiftly away;

My cloak is thrown off, if you please;

And my sword, always eager to play,

Flies out of the scabbard I seize.

My sword, I confess, is a tease,

With a nimble and mischievous brain;

And it knows, as the blade makes a breeze,

I shall strike as I end the refrain.

 

You should have kept quiet today.

I could carve you, my friend, by degrees.

But where? For a start, shall we say

In the side? Or the narrowest squeeze

'Twixt your ribs, while your arteries freeze,

And my point makes a sly meaning plain?

Guard that paunch! You're beginning to wheeze!

I shall strike as I end the refrain.

 

I need a word rhyming with a,

For, look, you turn paler than cheese

And whiter than -- there's the word! -- Clay.

Your week thrusts I parry with ease;

Too late now to pause or appease.

Hold onto your spit, though in pain,

For if you'll permit the reprise --

I shall strike as I end the refrain.

 

Pray God, prince, to pardon all these

Poor efforts of yours, all in vain.

I thrust as you sink to your knees;

And I strike -- as I end the refrain!

 

On that note, while there have been a lot of adaptations of Cyrano, there is something particularly good about the Gerard Depardieu French movie from 1990. I haven’t seen it all, but the duel scene is so iconic. Even if it does leave out some of the creative insults. 

 

 

I have to mention the character of Ragueneau, the chef with the soul (but not the skills) of a poet. He is beautifully drawn, and both hilarious and poignant. His best line here is his instructions to his staff. 

 

RAGUENEAU: Leave me, my Muse, before thy limpid eyes

Are reddened by the oven’s thickening smoke.

(to a pastry cook)

You’ve split your loaves in the wrong place; the pause

Is always in the middle of the line.

(to a cook)

Add a light roof to this palatial crust.

(to an apprentice)

And you, my son, should alternate the spit

With a proud turken and a modest hen,

Just as Malherbe mixed lengthening lines with short;

So turn your roast in strophes in the flames.

 

Later, as Roxanne expresses her love for Christian to Cyrano, he warns her that she may just be in love with his looks.

 

CYRANO: His speech may lack the brilliance of his hair. 

 

Ironically, later, when Christian urges Cyrano to declare his own love for Roxanne, he claims that Roxanne said she would love him (Christian) even if he were ugly. Cyrano does not believe it, of course. 

 

The final act comes 15 years later. Christian is dead, and Roxanne has been in a convent for years. Cyrano, now impoverished, continues to visit her weekly, teasing the nuns with his sacrilege. They debate whether to try to convert him. 

 

SISTER CLAIRE: Well then,

We will convert him!

OTHER SISTERS: Yes!

MOTHER MARGARET: That I forbid.

Were you to try, and were you to succeed,

He might repent - and come here much less often.

SISTER MARTHA: But...if he does not know God…

MOTHER MARGARET: Never fear.

God knows him very well. 

 

The play ends on a rather bittersweet note, just like the real life of Cyrano. And, I suppose, all of us. We die. And so Cyrano dies, not in a fight, as he had wished, but because of a cowardly ambush. But, although he may feel embarrassed about the manner of his death, he dies with his dignity and self intact, having lived as who he was. 

 

Cyrano de Bergerac is a lot of fun, with its wit and memorable scenes. I am surprised nobody has done a local version of it - but I would definitely go see it if they did. (Post Covid, of course.)