We have dwelt on this first image, the Jack-in-the-box, sufficiently
to show how comic fancy gradually converts a material mechanism into
a moral one. Now we will consider one or two other games, confining
ourselves to their most striking aspects.

2. THE DANCING-JACK.--There are innumerable comedies in which one of
the characters thinks he is speaking and acting freely, and,
consequently, retains all the essentials of life, whereas, viewed
from a certain standpoint, he appears as a mere toy in the hands of
another who is playing with him. The transition is easily made, from
the dancing-jack which a child works with a string, to Geronte and
Argante manipulated by Scapin. Listen to Scapin himself: "The
MACHINE is all there"; and again: "Providence has brought them into
my net," etc. Instinctively, and because one would rather be a cheat
than be cheated, in imagination at all events, the spectator sides
with the knaves; and for the rest of the time, like a child who has
persuaded his playmate to lend him his doll, he takes hold of the
strings himself and makes the marionette come and go on the stage as
he pleases. But this latter condition is not indispensable; we can
remain outside the pale of what is taking place if only we retain
the distinct impression of a mechanical arrangement. This is what
happens whenever one of the characters vacillates between two
contrary opinions, each in turn appealing to him, as when Panurge
asks Tom, Dick, and Harry whether or no he ought to get married.
Note that, in such a case, a comic author is always careful to
PERSONIFY the two opposing decisions. For, if there is no spectator,
there must at all events be actors to hold the strings.

All that is serious in life comes from our freedom. The feelings we
have matured, the passions we have brooded over, the actions we have