SCENE III—PHILAMINTE, BÉLISE, ARMANDE, HENRIETTE, TRISSOTIN, LÉPINE.
LEP. (to TRISSOTIN). Sir, there is a gentleman who wants to speak to you; he is dressed all in black, and speaks in a soft tone. (They all rise.)
TRI. It is that learned friend who entreated me so much to procure him the honour of your acquaintance.
PHI. You have our full leave to present him to us. (TRISSOTIN goes out to meet VADIUS.)
SCENE IV.—PHILAMINTE, BÉLISE, ARMANDE, HENRIETTE.
PHI. (to ARMANDE and BÉLISE). At least, let us do him all the honours of our knowledge. (To HENRIETTE, who is going) Stop! I told you very plainly that I wanted to speak to you.
HEN. But what about?
PHI. You will soon be enlightened on the subject.
SCENE V.—TRISSOTIN, VADIUS, PHILAMINTE, BÉLISE, ARMANDE, HENRIETTE.
TRI. (introducing VADIUS). [Footnote: It is probably Ménage who is here laughed at.] Here is the gentleman who is dying to see you. In presenting him I am not afraid, Madam, of being accused of introducing a profane person to you; he can hold his place among the wits.
PHI. The hand which introduces him sufficiently proves his value.
TRI. He has a perfect knowledge of the ancient authors, and knows
Greek, Madam, as well as any man in France.
PHI. (to BÉLISE). Greek! O heaven! Greek! He understands Greek, sister!
BEL. (to ARMANDE). Ah, niece! Greek!
ARM. Greek! ah! how delightful!
PHI. What, Sir, you understand Greek? Allow me, I beg, for the love of
Greek, to embrace you. (VADIUS embraces also BÉLISE and
ARMANDE.)
HEN. (to VADIUS, who comes forward to embrace her)
Excuse me, Sir, I do not understand Greek. (They sit down.)
PHI. I have a wonderful respect for Greek books.
VAD. I fear that the anxiety which calls me to render my homage to you to-day, Madam, may render me importunate. I may have disturbed some learned discourse.
PHI. Sir, with Greek in possession, you can spoil nothing.
TRI. Moreover, he does wonders in prose as well as in verse, and he could, if he chose, show you something.
VAD. The fault of authors is to burden conversation with their productions; to be at the Palais, in the walks, in the drawing-rooms, or at table, the indefatigable readers of their tedious verses. As for me, I think nothing more ridiculous than an author who goes about begging for praise, who, preying on the ears of the first comers, often makes them the martyrs of his night watches. I have never been guilty of such foolish conceit, and I am in that respect of the opinion of a Greek, who by an express law forbade all his wise men any unbecoming anxiety to read their works.—Here are some little verses for young lovers upon which I should like to have your opinion.
TRI. Your verses have beauties unequalled by any others.
VAD. Venus and the Graces reign in all yours.
TRI. You have an easy style, and a fine choice of words.
VAD. In all your writings one finds ithos and pathos.
TRI. We have seen some eclogues of your composition which surpass in sweetness those of Theocritus and Virgil.
VAD. Your odes have a noble, gallant, and tender manner, which leaves
Horace far behind.
TRI. Is there anything more lovely than your canzonets?
VAD. Is there anything equal to the sonnets you write?
TRI. Is there anything more charming than your little rondeaus?
VAD. Anything so full of wit as your madrigals?
TRI. You are particularly admirable in the ballad.
VAD. And in bouts-rimés I think you adorable.
TRI. If France could appreciate your value—
VAD. If the age could render justice to a lofty genius—
TRI. You would ride in the streets in a gilt coach.
VAD. We should see the public erect statues to you. Hem…(to
TRISSOTIN). It is a ballad; and I wish you frankly to….
TRI. (to VADIUS). Have you heard a certain little sonnet upon the Princess Urania's fever?
VAD. Yes; I heard it read yesterday.
TRI. Do you know the author of it?
VAD. No, I do not; but I know very well that, to tell him the truth, his sonnet is good for nothing.
TRI. Yet a great many people think it admirable.
VAD. It does not prevent it from being wretched; and if you had read it, you would think like me.
TRI. I know that I should differ from you altogether, and that few people are able to write such a sonnet.
VAD. Heaven forbid that I should ever write one so bad!
TRI. I maintain that a better one cannot be made, and my reason is that I am the author of it.
VAD. You?
TRI. Myself.
VAD. I cannot understand how the thing can have happened.
TRI. It is unfortunate that I had not the power of pleasing you.
VAD. My mind must have wandered during the reading, or else the reader spoilt the sonnet; but let us leave that subject, and come to my ballad.
TRI. The ballad is, to my mind, but an insipid thing; it is no longer the fashion, and savours of ancient times.
VAD. Yet a ballad has charms for many people.
TRI. It does not prevent me from thinking it unpleasant.
VAD. That does not make it worse.
TRI. It has wonderful attractions for pedants.
VAD. Yet we see that it does not please you.
TRI. You stupidly give your qualities to others.
(They all rise.)
VAD. You very impertinently cast yours upon me.
TRI. Go, you little dunce! you pitiful quill-driver!
VAD. Go, you penny-a-liner! you disgrace to the profession!
TRI. Go, you book-maker, you impudent plagiarist!
VAD. Go, you pedantic snob!
PHI. Ah! gentlemen, what are you about?
TRI. (to VADIUS). Go, go, and make restitution to the Greeks and Romans for all your shameful thefts.
VAD. Go and do penance on Parnassus for having murdered Horace in your verses.
TRI. Remember your book, and the little noise it made.
VAD. And you, remember your bookseller, reduced to the workhouse.
TRI. My glory is established; in vain would you endeavour to shake it.
VAD. Yes, yes; I send you to the author of the 'Satires.' [Footnote:
Boileau.]
TRI. I, too, send you to him.
VAD. I have the satisfaction of having been honourably treated by him; he gives me a passing thrust, and includes me among several authors well known at the Palais; but he never leaves you in peace, and in all his verses you are exposed to his attacks.
TRI: By that we see the honourable rank I hold. He leaves you in the crowd, and esteems one blow enough to crush you. He has never done you the honour of repeating his attacks, whereas he assails me separately, as a noble adversary against whom all his efforts are necessary; and his blows, repeated against me on all occasions, show that he never thinks himself victorious.
VAD. My pen will teach you what sort of man I am.
TRI. And mine will make you know your master.
VAD. I defy you in verse, prose, Greek and Latin.
TRI. Very well, we shall meet each other alone at Barbin's. [Footnote: Barbin, a famous bookseller. The arms chosen for the duel would no doubt be books. See "The Lutrin," by Boileau.]
SCENE VI.—TRISSOTIN, PHILAMINTE, ARMANDE, BÉLISE, HENRIETTE.
TRI. Do not blame my anger. It is your judgment I defend, Madam, in the sonnet he dares to attack.
PHI. I will do all I can to reconcile you. But let us speak of something else. Come here, Henriette. I have for some time now been tormented at finding in you a want of intellectuality, but I have thought of a means of remedying this defect.
HEN. You take unnecessary trouble for my sake. I have no love for learned discourses. I like to take life easy, and it is too much trouble to be intellectual. Such ambition does not trouble my head, and I am perfectly satisfied, mother, with being stupid. I prefer to have only a common way of talking, and not to torment myself to produce fine words.
PHI. That may be; but this stupidity wounds me, and it is not my intention to suffer such a stain on my family. The beauty of the face is a fragile ornament, a passing flower, a moment's brightness which only belongs to the epidermis; whereas that of the mind is lasting and solid. I have therefore been feeling about for the means of giving you the beauty which time cannot remove—of creating in you the love of knowledge, of insinuating solid learning into you; and the way I have at last determined upon is to unite you to a man full of genius; (showing TRISSOTIN) to this gentleman, in fact. It is he whom I intend you to marry.
HEN. Me, mother!
PHI. Yes, you! just play the fool a little.
BEL. (to TRISSOTIN). I understand you; your eyes ask me for leave to engage elsewhere a heart I possess. Be at peace, I consent. I yield you up to this union; it is a marriage which will establish you in society.
TRI. (to HENRIETTE). In my delight, I hardly know what to tell you, Madam, and this marriage with which I am honoured puts me….
HEN. Gently, Sir; it is not concluded yet; do not be in such a hurry.
PHI. What a way of answering! Do you know that if … but enough. You understand me. (To TRISSOTIN) She will obey. Let us leave her alone for the present.
SCENE VII.—HENRIETTE, ARMANDE.
ARM. You see how our mother's anxiety for your welfare shines forth; she could not have chosen a more illustrious husband….
HEN. If the choice is so good, why do you not take him for yourself?
ARM. It is upon you, and not upon me, that his hand is bestowed.
HEN. I yield him up entirely to you as my elder Sister.
ARM. If marriage seemed so pleasant to me as it seems to be to you, I would accept your offer with delight.
HEN. If I loved pedants as you do, I should think the match an excellent one.
ARM. Although our tastes differ so in this case, you will still have to obey our parents, sister. A mother has full power over us, and in vain do you think by resistance to….
SCENE VIII.—CHRYSALE, ARISTE, CLITANDRE, HENRIETTE, ARMANDE.
CHRY. (to HENRIETTE, as he presents CLITANDRE). Now, my daughter, you must show your approval of what I do. Take off your glove, shake hands with this gentleman, and from henceforth in your heart consider him as the man I want you to marry.
ARM. Your inclinations on this side are strong enough, sister.
HEN. We must obey our parents, sister; a father has full power over us.
ARM. A mother should have a share of obedience.
CHRY. What is the meaning of this?
ARM. I say that I greatly fear you and my mother are not likely to agree on this point, and this other husband….
CHRY. Be silent, you saucy baggage: philosophise as much as you please with her, and do not meddle with what I do. Tell her what I have done, and warn her that she is not to come and make me angry. Go at once!
SCENE IX.—CHRYSALE, ARISTE, HENRIETTE, CLITANDRE.
ARI. That's right; you are doing wonders!
CLI. What transport! what joy! Ah! how kind fortune is to me!
CHRY. (to CLITANDRE). Come, take her hand and pass before us; take her to her room. Ah! what sweet caresses. (to ARISTE) How moved my heart is before this tenderness; it cheers up one's old age, and I can still remember my youthful loving days.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.—PHILAMINTE, ARMANDE.
ARM. Yes, there was no hesitation in her; she made a display of her obedience, and her heart scarcely took time to hear the order. She seemed less to obey the will of her father than affect to set at defiance the will of her mother.
PHI. I will soon show her to which of us two the laws of reason subject her wishes, and who ought to govern, mother or father, mind or body, form or matter.
ARM. At least, they owed you the compliment of consulting you; and that little gentleman who resolves to become your son-in-law, in spite of yourself, behaves himself strangely.
PHI. He has not yet reached the goal of his desires. I thought him well made, and approved of your love; but his manners were always unpleasant to me. He knows that I write a little, thank heaven, and yet he has never desired me to read anything to him.
SCENE II—ARMANDE, PHILAMINTE, CLITANDRE (entering softly and listening unseen).
ARM. If I were you, I would not allow him to become Henriette's husband. It would be wrong to impute to me the least thought of speaking like an interested person in this matter, and false to think that the base trick he is playing me secretly vexes me. By the help of philosophy, my soul is fortified against such trials; by it we can rise above everything. But to see him treat you so, provokes me beyond all endurance. Honour requires you to resist his wishes, and he is not a man in whom you could find pleasure. In our talks together I never could see that he had in his heart any respect for you.
PHI. Poor idiot!
ARM. In spite of all the reports of your glory, he was always cold in praising you.
PHI. The churl!
ARM. And twenty times have I read to him some of your new productions, without his ever thinking them fine.
PHI. The impertinent fellow!
ARM. We were often at variance about it, and you could hardly believe what foolish things….
CLI (to ARMANDE). Ah! gently, pray. A little charity, or at least a little truthfulness. What harm have I done to you? and of what am I guilty that you should thus arm all your eloquence against me to destroy me, and that you should take so much trouble to render me odious to those whose assistance I need? Tell me why this great indignation? (To PHILAMINTE) I am willing to make you, Madam, an impartial judge between us.
ARM. If I felt this great wrath with which you accuse me, I could find enough to authorise it. You deserve it but too well. A first love has such sacred claims over our hearts, that it would be better to lose fortune and renounce life than to love a second time. Nothing can be compared to the crime of changing one's vows, and every faithless heart is a monster of immorality.
CLI. Do you call that infidelity, Madam, which the haughtiness of your mind has forced upon me? I have done nothing but obey the commands it imposed upon me; and if I offend you, you are the primary cause of the offence. At first your charms took entire possession of my heart. For two years I loved you with devoted love; there was no assiduous care, duty, respect, service, which I did not offer you. But all my attentions, all my cares, had no power over you. I found you opposed to my dearest wishes; and what you refused I offered to another. Consider then, if the fault is mine or yours. Does my heart run after change, or do you force me to it? Do I leave you, or do you not rather turn me away?
ARM. Do you call it being opposed to your love, Sir, if I deprive it of what there is vulgar in it, and if I wish to reduce it to the purity in which the beauty of perfect love consists? You cannot for me keep your thoughts clear and disentangled from the commerce of sense; and you do not enter into the charms of that union of two hearts in which the body is ignored. You can only love with a gross and material passion; and in order to maintain in you the love I have created, you must have marriage, and all that follows. Ah! what strange love! How far great souls are from burning with these terrestrial flames! The senses have no share in all their ardour; their noble passion unites the hearts only, and treats all else as unworthy. Theirs is a flame pure and clear like a celestial fire. With this they breathe only sinless sighs, and never yield to base desires. Nothing impure is mixed in what they propose to themselves. They love for the sake of loving, and for nothing else. It is only to the soul that all their transports are directed, and the body they altogether forget.
CLI. Unfortunately, Madam, I feel, if you will forgive my saying so, that I have a body as well as a soul; and that I am too much attached to that body for me totally to forget it. I do not understand this separation. Heaven has denied me such philosophy, and my body and soul go together. There is nothing so beautiful, as you well say, as that purified love which is directed only to the heart, those unions of the soul and those tender thoughts so free from the commerce of sense. But such love is too refined for me. I am, as you observe, a little gross and material. I love with all my being; and, in the love that is given to me, I wish to include the whole person. This is not a subject for lofty self-denial; and, without wishing to wrong your noble sentiments, I see that in the world my method has a certain vogue; that marriage is somewhat the fashion, and passes for a tie honourable and tender enough to have made me wish to become your husband, without giving you cause to be offended at such a thought.
ARM. Well, well! Sir, since without being convinced by what I say, your grosser feelings will be satisfied; since to reduce you to a faithful love, you must have carnal ties and material chains, I will, if I have my mother's permission, bring my mind to consent to all you wish.
CLI. It is too late; another has accepted before you and if I were to return to you, I should basely abuse the place of rest in which I sought refuge, and should wound the goodness of her to whom I fled when you disdained me.
PHI. But, Sir, when you thus look forward, do you believe in my consent to this other marriage? In the midst of your dreams, let it enter your mind that I have another husband ready for her.
CLI. Ah! Madam, reconsider your choice, I beseech you; and do not expose me to such a disgrace. Do not doom me to the unworthy destiny of seeing myself the rival of Mr. Trissotin. The love of beaux esprits [Footnote: No single word has given me so much trouble to translate as this word esprit. This time I acknowledge myself beaten.], which goes against me in your mind, could not have opposed to me a less noble adversary. There are people whom the bad taste of the age has reckoned among men of genius; but Mr. Trissotin deceives nobody, and everyone does justice to the writings he gives us. Everywhere but here he is esteemed at his just value; and what has made me wonder above all things is to see you exalt to the sky, stupid verses which you would have disowned had you yourself written them.
PHI. If you judge of him differently from us, it is that we see him with other eyes than you do.
SCENE III.—TRISSOTIN, PHILAMINTE, ARMANDE, CLITANDRE.
TRI. (to PHILAMINTE). I come to announce you great news. We have had a narrow escape while we slept. A world passed all along us, and fell right across our vortex. [Footnote: Tourbillon. Compare act iii scene ii. Another reference to Cotin.] If in its way it had met with our earth, it would have dashed us to pieces like so much glass.
PHI. Let us put off this subject till another season. This gentleman would understand nothing of it; he professes to cherish ignorance, and above all to hate intellect and knowledge.
CLI. This is not altogether the fact; allow me, Madam, to explain myself. I only hate that kind of intellect and learning which spoils people. These are good and beautiful in themselves; but I had rather be numbered among the ignorant than to see myself learned like certain people.
TRI. For my part I do not believe, whatever opinion may be held to the contrary, that knowledge can ever spoil anything.
CLI. And I hold that knowledge can make great fools both in words and in deeds.
TRI. The paradox is rather strong.
CLI. It would be easy to find proofs; and I believe without being very clever, that if reasons should fail, notable examples would not be wanting.
TRI. You might cite some without proving your point.
CLI. I should not have far to go to find what I want.
TRI. As far as I am concerned, I fail to see those notable examples.
CLI. I see them so well that they almost blind me.
TRI. I believed hitherto that it was ignorance which made fools, and not knowledge.
CLI. You made a great mistake; and I assure you that a learned fool is more of a fool than an ignorant one.
TRI. Common sense is against your maxims, since an ignorant man and a fool are synonymous.
CLI. If you cling to the strict uses of words, there is a greater connection between pedant and fool.
TRI. Folly in the one shows itself openly.
CLI. And study adds to nature in the other.
TRI. Knowledge has always its intrinsic value.
CLI. Knowledge in a pedant becomes impertinence.
TRI. Ignorance must have great charms for you, since you so eagerly take up arms in its defence.
CLI. If ignorance has such charms for me, it is since I have met with learned people of a certain kind.
TRI. These learned people of a certain kind may, when we know them well, be as good as other people of a certain other kind.
CLI. Yes, if we believe certain learned men; but that remains a question with certain people.
PHI. (to CLITANDRE.) It seems to me, Sir….
CLI. Ah! Madam, I beg of you; this gentleman is surely strong enough without assistance. I have enough to do already with so strong an adversary, and as I fight I retreat.
ARM. But the offensive eagerness with which your answers….
CLI. Another ally! I quit the field.
PHI. Such combats are allowed in conversation, provided you attack no one in particular.
CLI. Ah! Madam, there is nothing in all this to offend him. He can bear raillery as well as any man in France; and he has supported many other blows without finding his glory tarnished by it.
TRI. I am not surprised to see this gentleman take such a part in this contest. He belongs to the court; that is saying everything. The court, as every one well knows, does not care for learning; it has a certain interest in supporting ignorance. And it is as a courtier he takes up its defence.
CLI. Your are very angry with this poor court. The misfortune is great indeed to see you men of learning day after day declaiming against it; making it responsible for all your troubles; calling it to account for its bad taste, and seeing in it the scapegoat of your ill-success. Allow me, Mr. Trissotin, to tell you, with all the respect with which your name inspires me, that you would do well, your brethren and you, to speak of the court in a more moderate tone; that, after all, it is not so very stupid as all you gentlemen make it out to be; that it has good sense enough to appreciate everything; that some good taste can be acquired there; and that the common sense found there is, without flattery, well worth all the learning of pedantry.
TRI. We See some effects of its good taste, Sir.
CLI. Where do you see, Sir, that its taste is so bad?
TRI. Where, Sir! Do not Rasius and Balbus by their learning do honour to France? and yet their merit, so very patent to all, attracts no notice from the court.
CLI. I see whence your sorrow comes, and that, through modesty, you forbear, Sir, to rank yourself with these. Not to drag you in, tell me what your able heroes do for their country? What service do their writings render it that they should accuse the court of horrible injustice, and complain everywhere that it fails to pour down favours on their learned names? Their knowledge is of great moment to France! and the court stands in great need of the books they write! These wretched scribblers get it into their little heads that to be printed and bound in calf makes them at once important personages in the state; that with their pens they regulate the destiny of crowns; that at the least mention of their productions, pensions ought to be poured down upon them; that the eyes of the whole universe are fixed upon them, and the glory of their name spread everywhere! They think themselves prodigies of learning because they know what others have said before them; because for thirty years they have had eyes and ears, and have employed nine or ten thousand nights or so in cramming themselves with Greek and Latin, and in filling their heads with the indiscriminate plunder of all the old rubbish which lies scattered in books. They always seem intoxicated with their own knowledge, and for all merit are rich in importunate babble. Unskilful in everything, void of common sense, and full of absurdity and impertinence, they decry everywhere true learning and knowledge.
PHI. You speak very warmly on the subject, and this transport shows the working of ill-nature in you. It is the name of rival which excites in your breast….
SCENE IV.—TRISSOTIN, PHILAMINTE, CLITANDRE, ARMANDE, JULIAN.
JUL. The learned gentleman who paid you a visit just now, Madam, and whose humble servant I have the honour to be, exhorts you to read this letter.
PHI. However important this letter may be, learn, friend, that it is a piece of rudeness to come and interrupt a conversation, and that a servant who knows his place should apply first to the people of the household to be introduced.
JUL. I will note that down, Madam, in my book.
PHI. (reads). "Trissotin boasts, Madam, that he is to marry your daughter. I give you notice that his philosophy aims only at your wealth, and that you would do well not to conclude this marriage before you have seen the poem which I am composing against him. While you are waiting for this portrait, in which I intend to paint him in all his colours, I send you Horace, Virgil, Terence, and Catullus, where you will find marked in the margin all the passages he has pilfered."
We see there merit attacked by many enemies because of the marriage I have decided upon. But this general ill-feeling only prompts me to an action which will confound envy, and make it feel that whatever it does only hastens the end. (To JULIAN) Tell all this to your master; tell him also that in order to let him know how much value I set on his disinterested advice, and how worthy of being followed I esteem it, this very evening I shall marry my daughter to this gentleman (showing TRISSOTIN).
SCENE V.—PHILAMINTE, ARMANDE, CLITANDRE.
PHI. (to CLITANDRE). You, Sir, as a friend of the family, may assist at the signing of the contract, for I am willing to invite you to it. Armande, be sure you send for the notary, and tell your sister of my decision.
ARM. There is no need of saying anything to my sister; this gentleman will be pretty sure to take the news to her, and try and dispose her heart to rebellion.
PHI. We shall see who has most power over her, and whether I can bring her to a sense of her duty.
SCENE VI.—ARMANDE, CLITANDRE.
ARM. I am very sorry to see, Sir, that things are not going quite according to your views.
CLI. I shall go and do all I can not to leave this serious anxiety upon your mind.
ARM. I am afraid that your efforts will not be very successful.
CLI. You may perhaps see that your fears are without foundation.
ARM. I hope it may be so.
CLI. I am persuaded that I shall have all your help.
ARM. Yes, I will second you with all my power.
CLI. And I shall be sure to be most grateful.
SCENE VII.—CHRYSALE, ARISTE, HENRIETTE, CLITANDRE.
CLI. I should be most unfortunate without your assistance, Sir, for your wife has rejected my offer, and, her mind being prepossessed in favour of Trissotin, she insists upon having him for a son-in-law.
CHRY. But what fancy is this that she has got into her head? Why in the world will she have this Mr. Trissotin?
ARI. It is because he has the honour of rhyming with Latin that he is carrying it off over the head of his rival.
CLI. She wants to conclude this marriage to-night.
CHRY. To-night?
CLI. Yes, to-night.
CHRY. Well! and this very night I will, in order to thwart her, have you both married.
CLI. She has sent for the notary to draw up the contract.
CHRY. And I will go and fetch him for the one he must draw up.
CLI. And Henriette is to be told by her sister of the marriage to which she must look forward.
CHRY. And I command her with full authority to prepare herself for this other alliance. Ah! I will show them if there is any other master but myself to give orders in the house. (To HENRIETTE) We will return soon. Now, come along with me, brother; and you also, my son-in-law.
HEN. (to ARISTE). Alas! try to keep him in this disposition.
ARI. I will do everything to serve your love.
SCENE VIII.—HENRIETTE, CLITANDRE.
CLI. However great may be the help that is promised to my love, my greatest hope is in your constancy.
HEN. You know that you may be sure of my love.
CLI. I see nothing to fear as long as I have that.
HEN. You see to what a union they mean to force me.
CLI. As long as your heart belongs entirely to me, I see nothing to fear.
HEN. I will try everything for the furtherance of our dearest wishes, and if after all I cannot be yours, there is a sure retreat I have resolved upon, which will save me from belonging to any one else.
CLI. May Heaven spare me from ever receiving from you that proof of your love.
ACT V.
SCENE I.—HENRIETTE, TRISSOTIN.
HEN. It is about the marriage which my mother has set her heart upon that I wish, Sir, to speak privately to you; and I thought that, seeing how our home is disturbed by it, I should be able to make you listen to reason. You are aware that with me you will receive a considerable dowry; but money, which we see so many people esteem, has no charms worthy of a philosopher; and contempt for wealth and earthly grandeur should not show itself in your words only.
TRI. Therefore it is not that which charms me in you; but your dazzling beauty, your sweet and piercing eyes, your grace, your noble air—these are the wealth, the riches, which have won for you my vows and love; it is of those treasures only that I am enamoured.
HEN. I thank you for your generous love; I ought to feel grateful and to respond to it; I regret that I cannot; I esteem you as much as one can esteem another; but in me I find an obstacle to loving you. You know that a heart cannot be given to two people, and I feel that Clitandre has taken entire possession of mine. I know that he has much less merit than you, that I have not fit discrimination for the choice of a husband, and that with your many talents you ought to please me. I see that I am wrong, but I cannot help it; and all the power that reason has over me is to make me angry with myself for such blindness.
TRI. The gift of your hand, to which I am allowed to aspire, will give me the heart possessed by Clitandre; for by a thousand tender cares I have reason to hope that I shall succeed in making myself loved.
HEN. No; my heart is bound to its first love, and cannot be touched by your cares and attention. I explain myself plainly with you, and my confession ought in no way to hurt your feelings. The love which springs up in the heart is not, as you know, the effect of merit, but is partly decided by caprice; and oftentimes, when some one pleases us, we can barely find the reason. If choice and wisdom guided love, all the tenderness of my heart would be for you; but love is not thus guided. Leave me, I pray, to my blindness; and do not profit by the violence which, for your sake, is imposed on my obedience. A man of honour will owe nothing to the power which parents have over us; he feels a repugnance to exact a self-sacrifice from her he loves, and will not obtain a heart by force. Do not encourage my mother to exercise, for your sake, the absolute power she has over me. Give up your love for me, and carry to another the homage of a heart so precious as yours.
TRI. For this heart to satisfy you, you must impose upon it laws it can obey. Could it cease to love you, Madam, unless you ceased to be loveable, and could cease to display those celestial charms….
HEN. Ah! Sir, leave aside all this trash; you are encumbered with so many Irises, Phyllises, Amaranthas, which everywhere in your verses you paint as charming, and to whom you swear such love, that….
TRI. It is the mind that speaks, and not the heart. With them it is only the poet that is in love; but it is in earnest that I love the adorable Henriette.
HEN. Ah, Sir, I beg of you….
TRI. If I offend you, my offence is not likely to cease. This love, ignored by you to this day, will be of eternal duration. Nothing can put a stop to its delightful transports; and although your beauty condemns my endeavours, I cannot refuse the help of a mother who wishes to crown such a precious flame. Provided I succeed in obtaining such great happiness, provided I obtain your hand, it matters little to me how it comes to pass.
HEN. But are you aware, Sir, that you risk more than you think by using violence; and to be plain with you, that it is not safe to marry a girl against her wish, for she might well have recourse to a certain revenge that a husband should fear.
TRI. Such a speech has nothing that can make me alter my purpose. A philosopher is prepared against every event. Cured by reason of all vulgar weaknesses, he rises above these things, and is far from minding what does not depend on him. [Footnote: Compare 'School for Wives,' act iv. scene vi.]
HEN. Truly, Sir, I am delighted to hear you; and I had no idea that philosophy was so capable of teaching men to bear such accidents with constancy. This wonderful strength of mind deserves to have a fit subject to illustrate it, and to find one who may take pleasure in giving it an occasion for its full display. As, however, to say the truth, I do not feel equal to the task, I will leave it to another; and, between ourselves, I assure you that I renounce altogether the happiness of seeing you my husband.
TRI. (going). We shall see by-and-by how the affair will end.
In the next room, close at hand, is the notary waiting.
SCENE II.—CHRYSALE, CLITANDRE, HENRIETTE.
CHRY. I am glad, my daughter, to see you; come here and fulfil your duty, by showing obedience to the will of your father. I will teach your mother how to behave, and, to defy her more fully, here is Martine, whom I have brought back to take her old place in the house again.
HEN. Your resolution deserves praise. I beg of you, father, never to change the disposition you are in. Be firm in what you have resolved, and do not suffer yourself to be the dupe of your own good-nature. Do not yield; and I pray you to act so as to hinder my mother from having her own way.
CHRY. How! Do you take me for a booby?
HEN. Heaven forbid!
CHRY. Am I a fool, pray?
HEN. I do not say that.
CHRY. Am I thought unfit to have the decision of a man of sense?
HEN. No, father.
CHRY. Ought I not at my age to know how to be master at home?
HEN. Of course.
CHRY. Do you think me weak enough to allow my wife to lead me by the nose?
HEN. Oh dear, no, father.
CHRY. Well, then, what do you mean? You are a nice girl to speak to me as you do!
HEN. If I have displeased you, father, I have done so unintentionally.
CHRY. My will is law in this place.
HEN. Certainly, father.
CHRY. No one but myself has in this house a right to command.
HEN. Yes, you are right, father.
CHRY. It is I who hold the place of chief of the family.
HEN. Agreed.
CHRY. It is I who ought to dispose of my daughter's hand.
HEN. Yes, indeed, father.
CHRY. Heaven has given me full power over you.
HEN. No one, father, says anything to the contrary.
CHRY. And as to choosing a husband, I will show you that it is your father, and not your mother, whom you have to obey.
HEN. Alas! in that you respond to my dearest wish. Exact obedience to you is my earnest wish.
CHRY. We shall see if my wife will prove rebellious to my will.
CLI. Here she is, and she brings the notary with her.
CHRY. Back me up, all of you.
MAR. Leave that to me; I will take care to encourage you, if need be.
SCENE III.—PHILAMINTE, BÉLISE, ARMANDE, TRISSOTIN, A NOTARY, CHRYSALE, CLITANDRE, HENRIETTE, MARTINE.
PHI. (to the NOTARY). Can you not alter your barbarous style, and give us a contract couched in noble language?
NOT. Our style is very good, and I should be a blockhead, Madam, to try and change a single word.
BEL. Ah! what barbarism in the very midst of France! But yet, Sir, for learning's sake, allow us, instead of crowns, livres, and francs, to have the dowry expressed in minae and talents, and to express the date in Ides and Kalends.
NOT. I, Madam? If I were to do such a thing, all my colleagues would hiss me.
PHI. It is useless to complain of all this barbarism. Come, Sir, sit down and write. (Seeing MARTINE) Ah! this impudent hussy dares to show herself here again! Why was she brought back, I should like to know?
CHRY. We will tell you by-and-by; we have now something else to do.
NOT. Let us proceed with the contract. Where is the future bride?
PHI. It is the younger daughter I give in marriage.
NOT. Good.
CHRY. (showing HENRIETTE). Yes, Sir, here she is; her name is
Henriette.
NOT. Very well; and the future bridegroom?
PHI. (showing TRISSOTIN). This gentleman is the husband I give her.
CHRY. (showing CLITANDRE). And the husband I wish her to marry is this gentleman.
NOT. Two husbands! Custom does not allow of more than one.
PHI. (to the NOTARY). What is it that is stopping you? Put down
Mr. Trissotin as my son-in-law.
CHRY. For my son-in-law put down Mr. Clitandre.
NOT. Try and agree together, and come to a quiet decision as to who is to be the future husband.
PHI. Abide, Sir, abide by my own choice.
CHRY. Do, Sir, do according to my will.
NOT. Tell me which of the two I must obey.
PHI. (to CHRYSALE). What! you will go against my wishes.
CHRY. I cannot allow my daughter to be sought after only because of the wealth which is in my family.
PHI. Really! as if anyone here thought of your wealth, and as if it were a subject worthy the anxiety of a wise man.
CHRY. In short, I have fixed on Clitandre.
PHI. (showing TRISSOTIN). And I am decided that for a husband she shall have this gentleman. My choice shall be followed; the thing is settled.
CHRY. Heyday! you assume here a very high tone.
MAR. 'Tisn't for the wife to lay down the law, and I be one to give up the lead to the men in everything.
CHRY. That is well said.
MAR. If my discharge was as sure as a gun, what I says is, that the hen hadn't ought to be heard when the cock's there.
CHRY. Just so.
MAR. And we all know that a man is always chaffed, when at home his wife wears the breeches.
CHRY. It is perfectly true.
MAR. I says that, if I had a husband, I would have him be the master of the house. I should not care a bit for him if he played the henpecked husband; and if I resisted him out of caprice, or if I spoke too loud, I should think it quite right if, with a couple of boxes on the ear, he made me pitch it lower.
CHRY. You speak as you ought.
MAR. Master is quite right to want a proper husband for his daughter.
CHRY. Certainly.
MAR. Why should he refuse her Clitandre, who is young and handsome, in order to give her a scholar, who is always splitting hairs about something? She wants a husband and not a pedagogue, and as she cares neither for Greek nor Latin, she has no need of Mr. Trissotin.
CHRY. Excellent.
PHI. We must suffer her to chatter on at her ease.
MAR. Learned people are only good to preach in a pulpit, and I have said a thousand times that I wouldn't have a learned man for my husband. Learning is not at all what is wanted in a household. Books agree badly with marriage, and if ever I consent to engage myself to anybody, it will be to a husband who has no other book but me, who doesn't know a from b—no offence to you, Madam—and, in short, who would be clever only for his wife. [Footnote: In this scene, as in act ii. scenes v. and vi., Martine speaks very correctly at times.]
PHI. (to CHRYSALE). Is it finished? and have I listened patiently enough to your worthy interpreter?
CHRY. She has only said the truth.
PHI. And I, to put an end to this dispute, will have my wish obeyed. (Showing TRISSOTIN) Henriette and this gentleman shall be united at once. I have said it, and I will have it so. Make no reply; and if you have given your word to Clitandre, offer him her elder sister.
CHRY. Ah! this is a way out of the difficulty. (To HENRIETTE and CLITANDRE) Come, do you consent?
HEN. How! father…!
CLI. (to CHRYSALE). What! Sir…!
BEL. Propositions more to his taste might be made. But we are establishing a kind of love which must be as pure as the morning-star; the thinking substance is admitted, but not the material substance.
SCENE IV.—ARISTE, CHRYSALE, PHILAMINTE, BÉLISE, HENRIETTE, ARMANDE, TRISSOTIN, A NOTARY, CLITANDRE, MARTINE.
ARI. I am sorry to have to trouble this happy ceremony by the sad tidings of which I am obliged to be bearer. These two letters make me bring news which have made me feel grievously for you. (To PHILAMINTE) One letter is for you, and comes from your attorney. (To CHRYSALE) The other comes from Lyons.
PHI. What misfortune can be sent us worthy of troubling us?
ARI. You can read it in this letter.
PHI. "Madam, I have asked your brother to give you this letter; it will tell you news which I did not dare to come and tell you myself. The great negligence you have shown in your affairs has been the cause that the clerk of your attorney has not forewarned me, and you have altogether lost the lawsuit which you ought to have gained."
CHRY. (to PHILAMINTE). Your lawsuit lost!
PHI. (to CHRYSALE). You seem very much upset; my heart is in no way troubled by such a blow. Show, show like me, a less vulgar mind wherewith to brave the ills of fortune. "Your want of care will cost you forty thousand crowns, and you are condemned to pay this sum with all costs." Condemned? Ah! this is a shocking word, and only fit for criminals.
ARI. It is the wrong word, no doubt, and you, with reason, protest against it. It should have been, "You are desired by an order of the court to pay immediately forty thousand crowns and costs."
PHI. Let us see the other.
CHRY. "Sir, the friendship which binds me to your brother prompts me to take a lively interest in all that concerns you. I know that you had placed your fortune entirely in the hands of Argante and Damon, and I acquaint you with the news that they have both failed." O Heaven! to lose everything thus in a moment!
PHI. (to CHRYSALE.) Ah! what a shameful outburst Fie! For the truly wise there is no fatal change of fortune, and, losing all, he still remains himself. Let us finish the business we have in hand; and please cast aside your sorrow. (Showing TRISSOTIN) His wealth will be sufficient for us and for him.
TRI. No, Madam; cease, I pray you, from pressing this affair further. I see that everybody is opposed to this marriage, and I have no intention of forcing the wills of others.
PHI. This reflection, Sir, comes very quickly after our reverse of fortune.
TRI. I am tired at last of so much resistance, and prefer to relinquish all attempts at removing these obstacles. I do not wish for a heart that will not surrender itself.
PHI. I see in you, and that not to your honour, what I have hitherto refused to believe.
TRI. You may see whatever you please, and it matters little to me how you take what you see. I am not a man to put up with the disgrace of the refusals with which I have been insulted here. I am well worthy of more consideration, and whoever thinks otherwise, I am her humble servant. (Exit.)
SCENE V.—ARISTE, CHRYSALE, PHILAMINTE, BÉLISE, ARMANDE, HENRIETTE, CLITANDRE, A NOTARY, MARTINE.
PHI. How plainly he has disclosed his mercenary soul, and how little like a philosopher he has acted.
CLI. I have no pretension to being one; but, Madam, I will link my destiny to yours, and I offer you, with myself, all that I possess.
PHI. Yon delight me, Sir, by this generous action, and I will reward your love. Yes, I grant Henriette to the eager affection….
HEN. No, mother. I have altered my mind; forgive me if now I resist your will.
CLI. What! do you refuse me happiness, and now that I see everybody for me….
HEN. I know how little you possess, Clitandre; and I always desired you for a husband when, by satisfying my most ardent wishes, I saw that our marriage would improve your fortune. But in the face of such reverses, I love you enough not to burden you with our adversity.
CLI. With you any destiny would be happiness, without you misery.
HEN. Love in its ardour generally speaks thus. Let us avoid the torture of vexatious recriminations. Nothing irritates such a tie more than the wretched wants of life. After a time we accuse each other of all the sorrows that follow such an engagement.
ARI. (to HENRIETTE). Is what you have just said the only reason which makes you refuse to marry Clitandre?
HEN. Yes; otherwise you would see me ready to fly to this union with all my heart.
ARI. Suffer yourself, then, to be bound by such gentle ties. The news I brought you was false. It was a stratagem, a happy thought I had to serve your love by deceiving my sister, and by showing her what her philosopher would prove when put to the test.
CHRY. Heaven be praised!
PHI. I am delighted at heart for the vexation which this cowardly deserter will feel. The punishment of his sordid avarice will be to see in what a splendid manner this match will be concluded.
CHRY. (to CLITANDRE). I told you that you would marry her.
ARM. (to PHILAMINTE). So, then, you sacrifice me to their love?
PHI. It will not be to sacrifice you; you have the support of your philosophy, and you can with a contented mind see their love crowned.
BEL. Let him take care, for I still retain my place in his heart. Despair often leads people to conclude a hasty marriage, of which they repent ever after.
CHRY. (to the NOTARY). Now, Sir, execute my orders, and draw up the contract in accordance with what I said.