Gringoire’s play in Book 1, Chapter 2 offers an allegory that creates a comic opening scene. As the actors quiet the unruly crowd and stage the playwright’s masterpiece, the narrator explains the work’s unsubtle significance:
It would have needed much ill-will also not to gather, from the poetry of the prologue, that Tillage was married to Commerce and Clergy to Nobility, and that the two happy couples were joint owners of a magnificent gold dolphin, which they intended to award only to the greatest beauty.
Gringoire’s theatrical creation wears its allegorical meaning on its sleeve. The novel’s narrator partly snickers at the ham-fisted homage that it pays to the French royal family. Tillage, Clergy, Commerce, and Nobility—presented as the four hallmarks of a thriving society—set out to award their golden dolphin to the most beautiful person they find, which too coincidentally happens to be the dauphin. The whole premise plays out like a classical epic, beauty pageant, and dad joke rolled into one. Gringoire kisses up to the royal family like few others.
The playwright has the honor of meeting King Louis XI himself as he gets dragged in by soldiers during the raid on the Notre Dame. Pinned down by the threat of a death sentence, he literally sings praises of the king at his feet. The real joke about his play, it seems, is that it happens to script his own desperate pleas.