The genius of Moliere, long undiscovered by himself, in its first attempts in a higher walk did not move alone; it was crutched by imitation, and it often deigned to plough with another’s heifer.  He copied whole scenes from Italian comedies and plots from Italian novelists:  his sole merit was their improvement.  The great comic satirist, who hereafter was to people the stage with a dramatic crowd who were to live on to posterity, had not yet struck at that secret vein of originality—­the fairy treasure which one day was to cast out such a prodigality of invention.  His two first comedies, L’Etourdi and Le Depit Amoureux, which he had only ventured to bring out in a provincial theatre, were grafted on Italian and Spanish comedy.  Nothing more original offered to his imagination than the Roman, the Italian, and the Spanish drama; the cunning adroit slave of Terence; the tricking, bustling Gracioso of modern Spain; old fathers, the dupes of some scapegrace, or of their own senile follies, with lovers sighing at cross-purposes.  The germ of his future powers may, indeed, be discovered in these two comedies, for insensibly to himself he had fallen into some scenes of natural simplicity.  In L’Etourdi, Mascarille, “le roi des serviteurs,” which Moliere himself admirably personated, is one of those defunct characters of the Italian comedy no longer existing in society; yet, like our Touchstone, but infinitely richer, this new ideal personage still delights by the fertility of his expedients and his perpetual and vigorous gaiety.  In Le Depit Amoureux is the exquisite scene of the quarrel and reconciliation of the lovers.  In this fine scene, though perhaps but an amplification of the well-known ode of Horace, Donec gratus eram tibi, Moliere consulted his own feelings, and betrayed his future genius.

It was after an interval of three or four years that the provincial celebrity of these comedies obtained a representation at Paris; their success was decisive.  This was an evidence of public favour which did not accompany Moliere’s more finished productions, which were so far unfortunate that they were more intelligible to the few; in fact, the first comedies of Moliere were not written above the popular taste; the spirit of true comedy, in a profound knowledge of the heart of man, and in the delicate discriminations of individual character, was yet unknown.  Moliere was satisfied to excel his predecessors, but he had not yet learned his art.

The rising poet was now earnestly sought after; a more extended circle of society now engaged his contemplative habits.  He looked around on living scenes no longer through the dim spectacles of the old comedy, and he projected a new species, which was no longer to depend on its conventional grotesque personages and its forced incidents; he aspired to please a more critical audience by making his dialogue the conversation of society, and his characters its portraits.