with the Queen of Prussia after the battle of Iena—­he expresses himself in the following terms:  “She received me in tragic fashion like Chimene:  Justice!  Sire, Justice!  Magdeburg!  Thus she continued in a way most embarrassing to me.  Finally, to make her change her style, I requested her to take a seat.  This is the best method for cutting short a tragic scene, for as soon as you are seated it all becomes comedy.”

Let us now give a wider scope to this image of the body taking precedence of the soul.  We shall obtain something more general—­the manner seeking to outdo the matter, the letter aiming at ousting the spirit.  Is it not perchance this idea that comedy is trying to suggest to us when holding up a profession to ridicule?  It makes the lawyer, the magistrate and the doctor speak as though health and justice were of little moment,—­the main point being that we should have lawyers, magistrates and doctors, and that all outward formalities pertaining to these professions should be scrupulously respected.  And so we find the means substituted for the end, the manner for the matter; no longer is it the profession that is made for the public, but rather the public for the profession.  Constant attention to form and the mechanical application of rules here bring about a kind of professional automatism analogous to that imposed upon the soul by the habits of the body, and equally laughable.  Numerous are the examples of this on the stage.  Without entering into details of the variations executed on this theme, let us quote two or three passages in which the theme itself is set forth in all its simplicity.  “You are only bound to treat people according to form,” says Doctor Diafoirus in the “Malade imaginaire”.  Again, says Doctor Bahis, in “L’Amour medecin”:  “It is better to die through following the rules than to recover through violating them.”  In the same play, Desfonandres had previously said:  “We must always observe the formalities of professional etiquette, whatever may happen.”  And the reason is given by Tomes, his colleague:  “A dead man is but a dead man, but the non-observance of a formality causes a notable prejudice to the whole faculty.”  Brid’oison’s words, though. embodying a rather different idea, are none the less significant:  “F-form, mind you, f-form.  A man laughs at a judge in a morning coat, and yet he would quake with dread at the mere sight of an attorney in his gown.  F-form, all a matter of f-form.”