Nevertheless, if he had renounced the Théâtre Français, Le Sage had not abandoned true comedy. All the comedies which thronged his brain, he heaped them up in that grand work which is called "Gil Blas," and which includes within itself alone the history of the human heart. What can be said of "Gil Blas" which has not already been written? How can I sufficiently eulogise the only book truly gay in the French language? The man who wrote "Gil Blas" has placed himself in the first rank among all the authors of this world; he has made himself, by the magic of his pen, the cousin-german of Rabelais and Montaigne, the grandfather of Voltaire, the brother of Cervantes, and the younger brother of Molière; he takes his place, in plenitude of right, in the family of comic poets, who have themselves been philosophers. In the same vein, he has further composed the "Bachelier de Salamanque," which would be a charming book if "Gil Blas" existed not, if above all, before writing his "Gil Blas," he had not written this charming book, "LE DIABLE BOITEUX."
And now, _sauve qui peut!_ the Devil is let loose upon the town, a devil truly French, who has the wit, the grace, and the vivacity of Gil Blas. Beware! Look to yourselves, you the ridiculous and the vicious, who have escaped the high comedy of the stage, for, by the virtue of this all-potent wand, not alone your mansions but your very souls shall in a twinkling change to glass. Beware! I say; for Asmodeus, the terrible scoffer, is about to plunge his pitiless eye into those mysterious places which you deemed so impenetrable, and to each of you he will reveal his secret history; he will strike you without mercy with that ivory crutch which opens all doors and all hearts; he will proclaim aloud your follies and your vices. None shall escape from that vigilant observer, who, astride upon his crutch, glides upon the roofs of the best secured houses, and divines their ambitions, their jealousies, their inquietudes, and, above all, their midnight wakefulness. Considered with relation to its wit without bitterness, its satire which laughs at everything, and with regard to its style, which is admirable, "Le Diable Boiteux" is perhaps the book most perfectly French in our language; it is perhaps the only book that Molière would have put his name to after "Gil Blas."