But to think that my love was
encouraged
by you!
Warner - World's Best Literature - v17 - Mai to Mom
He soared to
heights, and he explored depths, and he had a range, to which
Molière could not pretend. His is the spirit of soul-searching tragedy,
of romantic comedy, of dramatic history; and in no one of these is
Molière his rival. But in the comedy of real life, he is not Molière's
rival. In every variety of the comic drama Molière is unequaled, -
in farce, in the comedy of situation, in the comedy of character, and
in the comedy which is almost stiffened into drama, yet without
ceasing to be comedy. Shakespeare is the greatest of dramatists, no
doubt, but Molière is indubitably the greatest of comic dramatists.
In sheer comic force the Frenchman is stronger than the English-
man, or at least more abundant; and also in the compelling power of
humor. The influence of Shakespeare upon the comedy of the nine-
teenth century is almost negligible; for Musset seems to be the only
modern poet who has modeled his plays upon (As You Like It) and
(Twelfth Night. ' The influence of Molière upon the comedy of the
nineteenth century is overwhelming; and the author of the Demi-
Monde,' the authors of the Gendre de M. Poirier,' the author of the
(Doll's House, and the author of the Second Mrs. Tanqueray,' are
all followers of the author of "Tartuffe' and 'Les Femmes Savantes. '
It is to be said also that Shakespeare, though essentially an
Englishman, is in a wide sense cosmopolitan and universal; he rises
superior to race and to time. Molière, on the other hand, despite his
philosophical grasp of human nature, is typically French. He has the
robust humor of Rabelais, and Montaigne's genial common-sense, and
Voltaire's eagerness to abolish frauds. He has his full share of Gal-
lic salt; and he inherits also the Latin tradition of reserve, of order,
and of symmetry. He was able to unite humor and truth, - fun and
an exact observation of life, - satire and sincerity sustained by pity.
Like Rabelais and like Montaigne, Molière is a moralist; he has an
ethical code of his own; the total effect of his plays is wholesome.
He is on the side of the angels, although he recognizes the existence
of many an evil demon. Like Shakespeare, he can pierce almost
to the centre of things, even if his penetration is not so profound as
Shakespeare's. The moral is never tagged to the end or paraded or
vaunted; but he is a shallow student who cannot discover the ethical
richness of the soil in which Molière's plays were grown.
Certain authors there are that we outgrow as we wax in years
and in wisdom. There are books that we once liked, and that now
remain behind us as milestones marking the road traveled. Though
we came up to them with pleasure, yet without regret we leave them
## p. 10164 (#592) ##########################################
10164
MOLIÈRE
in the distance. We have not tarried with them long, and unless we
turn back we never pass them again. Molière is not one of these: he
is for all ages of man. In youth we may enjoy him unthinkingly,
amused by his comic invention, his drollery, his frank fun. As we
grow older his charm over us grows also; and we see the finer qual-
ities of his work,- his insight into human motives, and his marvel-
ous skill in exhibiting these on the stage. And in old age we may
refresh ourselves once again with his unfailing and unfading humor,
and with the true wisdom which underlies it. At one time the
(Bourgeois Gentilhomme may please us, and at another 'Le Misan-
thrope'; but at all times a man who takes interest in the comedy of
human endeavor may find in Molière what he needs.
Frauder Mathers
PEACE-MAKING, RECONCILIATION, AND ROBBERY
From L'Avare)
ARPAGON
a
H
[The scene is the house of Harpagon, the miser of the play; Master Jacques
is undertaking to reconcile Harpagon to his son Cléante, who has greatly
offended his father by obstinacy as a rival for the hand of Marianne. The
son and father are on opposite sides of the stage, paying no attention to each
other. ]
not an abominable thing to see
son who
does not shrink from becoming the rival of his father?
And is it not his bounden duty to refrain from interfering
with my love ?
Jacques-- You are quite right: stop here, and let me go and
speak to him.
Cléante [to Master Jacques, who comes near him]– Very well:
if he wants to make you a judge between us, I have no objec-
tion. I care little who it is, and I don't mind referring our quar-
rel to you.
Jacques — You do me great honor.
Cléante — I am in love with a young girl who returns my
affection, and who receives kindly the offer of my heart; but my
father takes it into his head to disturb our love by asking her in
marriage for himself.
## p. 10165 (#593) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10165
He says
Jacques -- He certainly is wrong.
Cléante — Is it not shameful for a man of his age to think of
marrying ? I ask you if it is right for him to fall in love ? and
ought he not now to leave that to younger men ?
Jacques — You are quite right: he is not serious; let me speak
a a word or two to him. [To Harpagon. ] Really, your son is not
so extravagant as you think, and is amenable to reason.
that he is conscious of the respect he owes you, and that he only
got angry in the heat of the moment. He will willingly submit
to all you wish if you will only promise to treat him more kindly
than you do, and will give him in marriage a person to his
taste.
Harpagon - Ah! tell him, Master Jacques, that he will ob-
tain everything from me on those terms; and that, except Mari-
anne, I leave him free to choose for his wife whomsoever he
pleases.
Jacques — Leave that to me. [To Clćante. ] Really, your father
is not so unreasonable as you make him out to me; and he tells
me that it is your violence which irritated him. He only objects
to your way of doing things, and is quite ready to grant you
all you want, provided you will use gentle means, and will give
him the deference, respect, and submission that a son owes to his
father.
Cléante — Ah, Master Jacques! you can assure him that if he
grants me Marianne, he will always find me the most submiss-
ive of men, and that I shall never do anything contrary to his
pleasure.
Jacques [to Harpagon]— It's all right: he consents to what
you say.
Harpagon — Nothing could be better.
Jacques [to Cléante] - It's all settled: he is satisfied with your
promises.
Cléante - Heaven be praised!
Jacques — Gentlemen, you have nothing to do but to talk
quietly over the matter together; you are agreed now: and yet
you were on the point of quarreling through want of understand-
ing each other.
Cléante — My poor Jacques, I shall be obliged to you all my
life.
Jacques - Don't mention it, sir,
## p. 10166 (#594) ##########################################
10166
MOLIÈRE
Harpagon - You have given me great pleasure, Master
Jacques, and deserve a reward. [Feels in his pocket. Jacques
holds out his hand, but Harpagon only pulls out his handkerchief,
and says :) Go; I will remember it, I promise you.
Jacques — I thank you kindly, sir.
[Exit.
Cléante - I beg your pardon, father, for having been angry.
Harpagon -- It is nothing.
Cléante I assure you that I feel very sorry about it.
Harpagon — I am very happy to see you reasonable again.
Cléante How very kind of you so soon to forget my fault!
Harpagon - One easily forgets the faults of children when
they return to their duty.
Cléante — What! you are not angry with me for my extrava-
gant behavior ?
Harpagon — By your submission and respectful conduct you
compel me to forget my anger.
Cléante- I assure you, father, I shall forever keep in heart
the remembrance of all your kindness.
Harpagon - And I promise you that in future you will obtain
all you like from me.
Cléante - Oh, father! I ask nothing more: it is sufficient for
me that you give me Marianne.
Harpagon - What ?
Cléante — I say, father, that I am only too thankful already
for what you have done; and that when you give me Marianne
you give me everything.
Harpagon — Who talks of giving you Marianne ?
Cléante - You, father.
Harpagon-I?
Cléante — Yes.
Harpagon — What! is it not you who promised to give her
up?
Cléante - I! give her up?
Harpagon — Yes.
Cléante — Certainly not. "
- '
Harpagon — Did you not give up all pretensions to her ?
Cléante — On the contrary, I am more determined than ever
to have her.
Harpagon — What, scoundrel! again?
-
Cléante — Nothing can make me change my mind.
## p. 10167 (#595) ##########################################
MOLIERE
10167
Harpagon — Let me get at you again, wretch!
Cléante - You can do as you please.
Harpagon - I forbid you ever to come within my sight.
Cléante — As you like.
Harpagon —I abandon you.
Cléante — Abandon me.
Harpagon - I disown you.
Cléante - Disown me.
Harpagon - I disinherit you.
Cléante - As you will.
Harpagon - I give you my curse.
Cléante - I want none of your gifts.
[The next scene shows Cléante without Harpagon; La Flèche is just leaving
the garden with a casket, and calls to Cleante. )
La Flèche - Ah, sir, you are just in the nick of time! Quick!
follow me. .
Cléante What is the matter?
La Flèche Follow me, I say. We are saved.
Cléante — How ?
La Flèche Here is all you want.
Cléante - What ?
La Flèche — I have watched for this all day.
Cléante - What is it?
La Flèche — Your father's treasure that I have got hold of.
Cléante - How did you manage it ?
La Flèche -I will tell you all about it. Let us be off. I can
hear him calling out.
[Exeunt.
Harpagon [ from the garden, rushing in without his hat]-
Thieves! thieves! assassins! murder! Justice, just heavens! I
am undone; I am murdered; they have cut my throat; they have
stolen my money! Who can it be? What has become of him?
Where is he? Where is he hiding himself ? What shall I do to
find him ? Where shall I run ? Where shall I not run ? Is he
not here ? — Who is this? Stop! [To himself, taking hold of his
own arm. ] Give me back my money, wretch! — Ah! it is myself.
— My mind is wandering, and I know not where I am, who I am,
and what I am doing. Alas! my poor money! my poor money!
my dearest friend, they have bereaved me of thee; and since
thou art gone, I have lost my support, my consolation, and my
-
## p. 10168 (#596) ##########################################
10168
MOLIÈRE
joy. All is ended for me, and I have nothing more to do in
the world! Without thee it is impossible for me to live. It is
all over with me; I can bear it no longer. I am dying; I am
dead; I am buried. Is there nobody who will call me from
the dead, by restoring my dear money to me, or by telling
me who has taken it? Ah! what is it you say ?
It is no one.
Whoever has committed the deed must have watched carefully
for his opportunity, and must have chosen the very moment
when I was talking with my miscreant of a son. I must go. I
will demand justice, and have the whole of my house put to
the torture,- my maids and my valets, my son, my daughter,
and myself too. What a crowd of people are assembled here!
Every one seems to be my thief.
I see
one who does not
rouse suspicion in me. Ha! what are they speaking of there?
Of him who stole my money? What noise is that up yonder?
Is it my thief who is there? For pity's sake, if you know any-
thing of my thief, I beseech you to tell me. Is he hiding there
among you ? They all look at me and laugh. We shall see that
they all have a share in the robbery. Quick! magistrates, police,
provosts, judges, racks, gibbets, and executioners. I will hang
everybody; and if I do not find my money, I will hang myself
afterwards.
Translation by Charles Heron Wall.
no
ALCESTE ACCUSES CÉLIMÈNE
From "The Misanthrope)
LCESTE
A
-Oh, heaven! may I control my just anger!
Célimène [aside]— Ah! [To Alceste. ] What is this new
trouble I see you in? what mean those deep sighs and those
dark looks you cast upon me ?
Alceste - That all the wickedness a soul is capable of can in
nothing be compared to your perfidy; that fate, devils, and in-
censed Heaven never produced anything so worthless as yourself.
Célimène — These are pretty speeches, which I certainly ad-
mire.
Alceste - Ah! no more jesting; this is not a time for laughter.
Rather let the blush of shame cover your face; you have cause,
for your treachery is known. So the presentiments of my heart
## p. 10169 (#597) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10169
were true; its alarms were but too well founded, and those fre-
quent suspicions which were thought odious were true guides to
what my eyes have now seen. Yes, in spite of all your skill in
dissimulation, Heaven hinted to me what I had to fear. But do
not think that I shall bear this insult unavenged. I know that
it is not in our power to govern our inclinations; that love is
always spontaneous; that we cannot enter a heart by force, and
that every heart is free to name its conqueror.
I would not com-
plain, therefore, if you had from the first spoken to me without
dissembling; for although you would have crushed within me the
very springs of my life, I should have blamed my fate alone for
it.
But to think that my love was encouraged by you! It is such
a treacherous, such a perfidious action, that no punishment seems
too great for it. After such an outrage, fear everything from
me: I am no longer master of myself; anger has conquered me.
Pierced to the heart by the cruel blow with which you kill
me, my senses are not overswayed by reason. I yield myself up
to a just revenge, and I cannot answer for what I may do.
Célimène — What can have called forth such an insult ? Have
you lost all sense and judgment ? Pray speak!
Alceste — Yes, when on seeing you I drank in the poison which
is killing me; yes, when like a fool I thought I had found some
sincerity in those treacherous charms that have deceived me.
Célimène - Of what treachery are you complaining ?
Alceste -- Ah! false heart, how well you feign ignorance! But
I will leave you no loop-hole of escape! Look at your own
handwriting; this letter is sufficient to confound you; against such
evidence you can have nothing to answer.
Célimène — So this is the cause of your strange outburst.
Alceste — And you do not blush at the sight?
Célimène — There is no occasion for me to blush.
Alceste -- What! will you add audacity to your deceit ? Will
you disown this letter because it is not signed ?
Célimène — Why should I disown it, when it is mine?
Alceste — And you can look at it without being ashamed of
the crime of which it shows you to be guilty towards me ?
Célimène — You are in truth a most foolish man.
Alceste — What! you face thus calmly this all-convincing
proof? And the tenderness you show in it for Oronte, has it
nothing that can outrage me or shame you ?
Célimène Oronte! Who told you that this letter is for
him ?
-
## p. 10170 (#598) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10170
But sup-
Alceste — Those who to-day put it in my hands.
pose I grant that it is for another, have I less cause to complain?
and would you be in fact less guilty towards me?
Célimène — But if the letter was written to a woman, in what
can it hurt you, and what guilt is there in it?
Alceste — Ah! the evasion is excellent, and the excuse admira-
ble! I must acknowledge that I did not expect such deceit, and
I am now altogether convinced. What! do you dare to have
recourse to such base tricks ? Do you think people entirely de-
void of understanding ? Show me a little in what way you can
maintain such a palpable falsehood, and how you can apply to a
woman all the words which in this letter convey so much ten-
derness. In order to cover your infidelity, reconcile if you can
what I am going to read to —
Célimène — No, I will not. What right have you to assume
such authority, and to dare to tell me such things to my face?
Alceste - No, no: instead of giving way to anger, try to ex-
plain to me the expressions you use here.
Célimène — I shall do nothing of the kind; and what you
think on the subject matters very little to me.
Alceste - For pity's sake, show me, and I shall be satisfied,
that this letter can be explained to be meant for a woman.
Célimène -- It is for Oronte; there! and I will have you be-
lieve it. I receive all his attentions gladly. I admire what he
says; I like his person, and I admit whatever you please. Do as
you like, take your own course, let nothing stop you, and annoy
me no more.
Alceste [aside] - Oh, heavens! can anything more cruel be
invented; and
a heart treated in such a manner ?
What! I am justly incensed against her, I come to complain, and
I must bear the blame! She excites my grief and my suspicion
to the utmost. She wishes me to believe everything, she boasts
of everything; and yet my heart is cowardly enough not to
break the bonds that bind it, cowardly enough not to arm itself
with deserved contempt for the cruel one it, alas! loves too
much. [To Célimène. ] Ah! faithless woman, you well know
how to take advantage of my weakness, and to make the deep
yearning love I have for you serve your own ends.
Clear your.
self at least of a crime which overwhelms me with grief, and cease
to affect to be guilty towards me. Show me, if you can,
that
this letter is innocent; strive to appear faithful to me, and I
will strive to believe you.
was
ever
## p. 10171 (#599) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10171
Célimène — Believe me, you forget yourself in your jealous fits,
and you do not deserve all the love I feel for you. I should like
to know what could compel me to condescend to the baseness
of dissembling with you; and why, if my heart were engaged
to another, I should not frankly tell you so. What! does not
the kind assurance of my feelings toward you plead my defense
against all your suspicions? Have they any weight before such
a pledge? Do you not insult me when you give way to them ?
And since it requires so great an effort for us to speak our love;
since the honor of our sex, that enemy to love, so strictly forbids
such a confession, — should the lover who sees us for his sake
conquer such obstacles, think lightly of that testimony and go
unpunished? Is he not to blame if he does not trust what we
have confessed with so much reluctance ? Indeed, my indignation
should be the reward of such doubts, and you do not deserve
that I should care for you. I am very foolish, and am vexed at
my own folly for still retaining any good-will toward you. I
ought to place my affections elsewhere, and thus give you just
excuse for complaint.
Alceste — Ah, faithless woman! How wonderful is my weak-
ness for you! You deceive me, no doubt, with such endearing
words. But let it be: I must submit to my destiny; I give my-
self heart and soul to you.
I will to the end see
what your heart will prove to be, and if it can be cruel enough
to deceive me.
Célimène — No: you do not love me as you ought to love.
Alceste - Ah! nothing can be compared with my exceeding
great love; and in my anxiety to make the whole world a wit-
ness to it, I even go so far as to form wishes against you. Yes,
I could wish that no one thought you charming; that you were
reduced to a humbler lot; that Heaven, at your birth, had be-
stowed nothing upon you; that you had neither rank, high birth,
nor wealth: so that my heart, in offering itself, might make up
for the injustice of such a fate, and that I might have both the
happiness and the glory on that day of seeing you owe every-
thing to my love.
Translation of Charles Heron Wall.
I trust you.
## p. 10172 (#600) ##########################################
10172
MOLIÈRE
A SINCERE CRITIC SELDOM PLEASES
From "The Misanthrope )
[The scene is the house of Célimène (the heroine of the play) in Paris.
In the apartment are Alceste, known for his too-plain speech as “the misan-
thrope )); and the far more politic and compliant Philinte. Oronte enters to
them, eager for literary flattery from Alceste. The scene is from the first act
of the play. ]
O
RONTE [to Alceste] – I learnt just now that Eliante and Céli-
mène are gone out to make some purchases: but as I was
also told that you were here, I came up to say, in all
sincerity of heart, that I have conceived for you an incredible
esteem; and that for a long time this esteem has given me an
ardent desire to be numbered among your friends. Yes, I love
to render justice to true merit, and I long to be united to you
in the close bond of friendship. I think that a warm friend,
and one of my standing, is assuredly not to be despised. [During
this discourse of Oronte, Alceste is thoughtful, and does not set m
aware that he is spoken to, until Oronte says to him:] With your
leave, it is to you that I am speaking.
Alcesto To me, sir ?
Oronte — To you. Does it in any way wound your feelings?
Alceste -- Not in the least; but my surprise is great. I did
not expect this homage to be paid to me.
Oronte - The esteem I feel for you ought not to surprise you,
and you can claim it from the whole world.
Alceste — Sir –
Oronte — The whole kingdom contains no merit more dazzling
than that which is to be found in you.
Alceste — Sir -
Oronte — Yes. I consider you superior to the highest amongst
us.
Alceste - Sir —
Oronte — May Heaven strike me dead if I lie! And in order
to convince you of my feelings, allow me in this place to em-
brace you with all my heart, and to solicit a place in your affec-
tions. Come, your hand if you please. Will you promise me
your friendship?
Alceste - Sir -
Oronte What! you refuse me?
## p. 10173 (#601) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10173
Alceste Sir, it is too great an honor you wish to pay me;
but friendship requires a little more caution, and we surely pro-
fane its name when we lightly make use of it. Such a compact
ought to spring from judgment and choice, and before we bind
ourselves we ought to be better acquainted. Our dispositions
might differ so greatly as to make us both heartily repent of the
bargain.
Oronte — Upon my word, you speak like a sensible man, and
I esteem you all the more for it. Let us then leave the form-
ing of such pleasant ties to time; but meanwhile believe that I
am entirely at your service. If some overture is to be made for
you at court, every one knows that I am in favor with the King,
that I have his private ear, and that really he behaves in all
things most kindly to me. In short, believe that I am in every-
thing and at all times at your disposal. As you are a man of
great judgment, I come, by way of beginning this happy bond
of friendship, to read you a sonnet which I have lately com-
posed, and to ask you if I should do well to publish it.
Alceste - Sir, I am ill qualified to decide on such a matter;
pray excuse me.
Oronte - Why?
Alceste--I have the weakness of being a little too sincere
about those things.
Oronte — Sincerity is what I ask of you; and I should have
reason to complain, if when I come to you in order to hear the
plain truth, you frustrate my purpose by concealing anything
from me.
Alceste - If it is thus you look upon it, sir, I consent.
Oronte - Sonnet. It is a sonnet on Hope. It is to a lady
who had given some encouragement to my love. Hope. These
are not those long, pompous verses; but soft, tender, languishing
little lines. [At every one of these interruptions he looks at
Alceste. ]
Alceste - We shall see.
Oronte — Hope. I do not know whether the style will seem
clear and easy to you, and whether you will be satisfied with my
choice of words.
Alceste — We shall see, sir.
Oronte -- Besides, you must know that I was only a quarter
of an hour composing it.
## p. 10174 (#602) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10174
Alceste — Come, sir, time has nothing to do with the matter.
Oronte [reads] -
Hope, it is true, can ease our pain
And rock awhile our hapless mind;
But, Phyllis, what a sorry gain
When nothing pleasant walks behind.
Philinte - I think this beginning charming!
Alceste [aside to Philinte] - What! you dare to find that charm-
ing?
Oronte
Your complaisance was great indeed,
But better 'twere to clip its scope,
And not to such expense proceed,
If you could give me — only hope.
Philinte -- Ah! in what charming terms those things are said !
Alceste [aside to Philinte]— Shame on you, you vile flatterer!
you praise that rubbish!
Oronte -
If age - long expectation's pest-
The ardor of my zeal must test,
To death at last l'll fly.
My purpose braves your every care;
Fair Phyllis, men will soon despair
When doomed to hope for aye.
Philinte — The fall is pretty, lovable, admirable.
Alceste [aside to Philinte]— Plague take your fall, wretched
sycophant! Deuce take you! I wish it had broken your neck.
Philinte I have never heard verses so skillfully turned.
Alceste [aside] - Zounds!
Oronte [to Philinte]- You are flattering me, and you think
perhaps —
Philinte - No indeed, I am not flattering you at all.
Alceste [aside]— Ha! what else are you doing, impostor ?
Oronte [to Alceste]— But you, you remember the agreement
we made, and I beg of you to speak to me in all sincerity.
Alceste — Sir, this is at all times a delicate matter, and we
always like people to praise us for our genius. But one day I
was saying to some one, whose name I will not mention, on see-
ing verses of his composition, that a gentleman should carefully
## p. 10175 (#603) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10175
guard against the hankering after authorship which is apt to seize
us; that he should check the great propensity we have of making
a display of such pastimes; and that by too great an eagerness
to show our productions we run the risk of making ourselves
ridiculous.
Oronte — Do you mean me to understand by this that I am
wrong in wishing-
Alceste —I do not say that. But I said to him that a life-
less composition is very wearisome to those who read it; that
such a weakness is sufficient to make a man the object of unkind
remarks; that although in other respects he may have the most
sterling qualities, we generally judge of men by their weakest
side.
Oronte — Do you find fault with my sonnet ?
Alceste - I do not say that. But to keep him from writing, I I
pointed out to him how in our days that thirst had spoilt many
a worthy man.
Oronte — Do I write badly, and do I resemble in any way -
Alceste — I do not say that. But in short, I said to him, What
pressing necessity is there for you to rhyme, and what the deuce
urges you to put your name in print ? If we can forgive the
publication of a wretched book, it is only to those unfortunate
men who scribble for a living. Believe me; resist the tempta-
tion, keep such effusions from public notice, and do not throw
away, however you may be tempted, the name of a man of sense
and a gentleman which you bear at court, to take from the
hands of a grasping printer, that of a ridiculous and wretched
author. This is what I tried to make him understand.
Oronte — And I think I understand you. But this is all very
well. May I know what in my sonnet can —
Alceste — Truly, you had better shut it up in your cabinet:
you have followed bad models, and your expressions are in no
way natural.
Pray what is — "And rock awhile our hapless
mind”? and Nothing pleasant walks behind ” ? also "And not
to such expense proceed, If you could give me only hope »? or
“Fair Phyllis, men will soon despair, When doomed to hope for
aye”? This figurative style that people are so vain of, falls far
short of good taste and truth. It is a paltry play on words, and
mere affectation. Nature never speaks thus. I hate the wretched
taste of the age in these matters. Our forefathers, unpolished as
(
## p. 10176 (#604) ##########################################
10176
MOLIÈRE
they were, understood these things better; and I value less all
that is now admired than an old song which I will repeat to
you:
« If the King had given me
Paris town, so great and gay,
And for it I had to flee
From my lady-love away,
To King Henry I should say,
Take your Paris back, I pray:
I had liefer love my love, O,
I had liefer love my love. "
The versification is not rich, and the style is old. But do you
not see how much better it is than all that trumpery which good
sense must abhor, and that here simple nature speaks ? —
« If the King had given me
Paris town, so great and gay,
And for it I had to flee
From my lady-love away,
To King Henry I should say,
Take your Paris back, I pray:
I had liefer love my love, O,
I had liefer love my love. "
This is what a heart truly in love would say. —[To Philinte, who
laughs. ] Yes, you may laugh as much as you please; but what-
ever you men of wit may say, I prefer this to the showy glitter
of those false trinkets which every one admires.
Oronte — And yet I maintain that my verses are good.
Alceste — You have your own reasons for thinking them so;
but you will allow me to be of a different opinion, and my rea-
sons to be independent of yours.
Oronte — I think it sufficient that others prize them.
Alceste — No doubt they have the gift of dissimulation, which
I have not.
Oronte — Do you really think that you have such a large
share of intelligence ?
Alceste - If I praised your verses, I should have more.
Oronte -- I can easily do without your approbation.
Alceste – You must certainly, if you please, do without it.
Oronte I should like to see how you would set about com.
posing some on the same subject.
## p.
heights, and he explored depths, and he had a range, to which
Molière could not pretend. His is the spirit of soul-searching tragedy,
of romantic comedy, of dramatic history; and in no one of these is
Molière his rival. But in the comedy of real life, he is not Molière's
rival. In every variety of the comic drama Molière is unequaled, -
in farce, in the comedy of situation, in the comedy of character, and
in the comedy which is almost stiffened into drama, yet without
ceasing to be comedy. Shakespeare is the greatest of dramatists, no
doubt, but Molière is indubitably the greatest of comic dramatists.
In sheer comic force the Frenchman is stronger than the English-
man, or at least more abundant; and also in the compelling power of
humor. The influence of Shakespeare upon the comedy of the nine-
teenth century is almost negligible; for Musset seems to be the only
modern poet who has modeled his plays upon (As You Like It) and
(Twelfth Night. ' The influence of Molière upon the comedy of the
nineteenth century is overwhelming; and the author of the Demi-
Monde,' the authors of the Gendre de M. Poirier,' the author of the
(Doll's House, and the author of the Second Mrs. Tanqueray,' are
all followers of the author of "Tartuffe' and 'Les Femmes Savantes. '
It is to be said also that Shakespeare, though essentially an
Englishman, is in a wide sense cosmopolitan and universal; he rises
superior to race and to time. Molière, on the other hand, despite his
philosophical grasp of human nature, is typically French. He has the
robust humor of Rabelais, and Montaigne's genial common-sense, and
Voltaire's eagerness to abolish frauds. He has his full share of Gal-
lic salt; and he inherits also the Latin tradition of reserve, of order,
and of symmetry. He was able to unite humor and truth, - fun and
an exact observation of life, - satire and sincerity sustained by pity.
Like Rabelais and like Montaigne, Molière is a moralist; he has an
ethical code of his own; the total effect of his plays is wholesome.
He is on the side of the angels, although he recognizes the existence
of many an evil demon. Like Shakespeare, he can pierce almost
to the centre of things, even if his penetration is not so profound as
Shakespeare's. The moral is never tagged to the end or paraded or
vaunted; but he is a shallow student who cannot discover the ethical
richness of the soil in which Molière's plays were grown.
Certain authors there are that we outgrow as we wax in years
and in wisdom. There are books that we once liked, and that now
remain behind us as milestones marking the road traveled. Though
we came up to them with pleasure, yet without regret we leave them
## p. 10164 (#592) ##########################################
10164
MOLIÈRE
in the distance. We have not tarried with them long, and unless we
turn back we never pass them again. Molière is not one of these: he
is for all ages of man. In youth we may enjoy him unthinkingly,
amused by his comic invention, his drollery, his frank fun. As we
grow older his charm over us grows also; and we see the finer qual-
ities of his work,- his insight into human motives, and his marvel-
ous skill in exhibiting these on the stage. And in old age we may
refresh ourselves once again with his unfailing and unfading humor,
and with the true wisdom which underlies it. At one time the
(Bourgeois Gentilhomme may please us, and at another 'Le Misan-
thrope'; but at all times a man who takes interest in the comedy of
human endeavor may find in Molière what he needs.
Frauder Mathers
PEACE-MAKING, RECONCILIATION, AND ROBBERY
From L'Avare)
ARPAGON
a
H
[The scene is the house of Harpagon, the miser of the play; Master Jacques
is undertaking to reconcile Harpagon to his son Cléante, who has greatly
offended his father by obstinacy as a rival for the hand of Marianne. The
son and father are on opposite sides of the stage, paying no attention to each
other. ]
not an abominable thing to see
son who
does not shrink from becoming the rival of his father?
And is it not his bounden duty to refrain from interfering
with my love ?
Jacques-- You are quite right: stop here, and let me go and
speak to him.
Cléante [to Master Jacques, who comes near him]– Very well:
if he wants to make you a judge between us, I have no objec-
tion. I care little who it is, and I don't mind referring our quar-
rel to you.
Jacques — You do me great honor.
Cléante — I am in love with a young girl who returns my
affection, and who receives kindly the offer of my heart; but my
father takes it into his head to disturb our love by asking her in
marriage for himself.
## p. 10165 (#593) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10165
He says
Jacques -- He certainly is wrong.
Cléante — Is it not shameful for a man of his age to think of
marrying ? I ask you if it is right for him to fall in love ? and
ought he not now to leave that to younger men ?
Jacques — You are quite right: he is not serious; let me speak
a a word or two to him. [To Harpagon. ] Really, your son is not
so extravagant as you think, and is amenable to reason.
that he is conscious of the respect he owes you, and that he only
got angry in the heat of the moment. He will willingly submit
to all you wish if you will only promise to treat him more kindly
than you do, and will give him in marriage a person to his
taste.
Harpagon - Ah! tell him, Master Jacques, that he will ob-
tain everything from me on those terms; and that, except Mari-
anne, I leave him free to choose for his wife whomsoever he
pleases.
Jacques — Leave that to me. [To Clćante. ] Really, your father
is not so unreasonable as you make him out to me; and he tells
me that it is your violence which irritated him. He only objects
to your way of doing things, and is quite ready to grant you
all you want, provided you will use gentle means, and will give
him the deference, respect, and submission that a son owes to his
father.
Cléante — Ah, Master Jacques! you can assure him that if he
grants me Marianne, he will always find me the most submiss-
ive of men, and that I shall never do anything contrary to his
pleasure.
Jacques [to Harpagon]— It's all right: he consents to what
you say.
Harpagon — Nothing could be better.
Jacques [to Cléante] - It's all settled: he is satisfied with your
promises.
Cléante - Heaven be praised!
Jacques — Gentlemen, you have nothing to do but to talk
quietly over the matter together; you are agreed now: and yet
you were on the point of quarreling through want of understand-
ing each other.
Cléante — My poor Jacques, I shall be obliged to you all my
life.
Jacques - Don't mention it, sir,
## p. 10166 (#594) ##########################################
10166
MOLIÈRE
Harpagon - You have given me great pleasure, Master
Jacques, and deserve a reward. [Feels in his pocket. Jacques
holds out his hand, but Harpagon only pulls out his handkerchief,
and says :) Go; I will remember it, I promise you.
Jacques — I thank you kindly, sir.
[Exit.
Cléante - I beg your pardon, father, for having been angry.
Harpagon -- It is nothing.
Cléante I assure you that I feel very sorry about it.
Harpagon — I am very happy to see you reasonable again.
Cléante How very kind of you so soon to forget my fault!
Harpagon - One easily forgets the faults of children when
they return to their duty.
Cléante — What! you are not angry with me for my extrava-
gant behavior ?
Harpagon — By your submission and respectful conduct you
compel me to forget my anger.
Cléante- I assure you, father, I shall forever keep in heart
the remembrance of all your kindness.
Harpagon - And I promise you that in future you will obtain
all you like from me.
Cléante - Oh, father! I ask nothing more: it is sufficient for
me that you give me Marianne.
Harpagon - What ?
Cléante — I say, father, that I am only too thankful already
for what you have done; and that when you give me Marianne
you give me everything.
Harpagon — Who talks of giving you Marianne ?
Cléante - You, father.
Harpagon-I?
Cléante — Yes.
Harpagon — What! is it not you who promised to give her
up?
Cléante - I! give her up?
Harpagon — Yes.
Cléante — Certainly not. "
- '
Harpagon — Did you not give up all pretensions to her ?
Cléante — On the contrary, I am more determined than ever
to have her.
Harpagon — What, scoundrel! again?
-
Cléante — Nothing can make me change my mind.
## p. 10167 (#595) ##########################################
MOLIERE
10167
Harpagon — Let me get at you again, wretch!
Cléante - You can do as you please.
Harpagon - I forbid you ever to come within my sight.
Cléante — As you like.
Harpagon —I abandon you.
Cléante — Abandon me.
Harpagon - I disown you.
Cléante - Disown me.
Harpagon - I disinherit you.
Cléante - As you will.
Harpagon - I give you my curse.
Cléante - I want none of your gifts.
[The next scene shows Cléante without Harpagon; La Flèche is just leaving
the garden with a casket, and calls to Cleante. )
La Flèche - Ah, sir, you are just in the nick of time! Quick!
follow me. .
Cléante What is the matter?
La Flèche Follow me, I say. We are saved.
Cléante — How ?
La Flèche Here is all you want.
Cléante - What ?
La Flèche — I have watched for this all day.
Cléante - What is it?
La Flèche — Your father's treasure that I have got hold of.
Cléante - How did you manage it ?
La Flèche -I will tell you all about it. Let us be off. I can
hear him calling out.
[Exeunt.
Harpagon [ from the garden, rushing in without his hat]-
Thieves! thieves! assassins! murder! Justice, just heavens! I
am undone; I am murdered; they have cut my throat; they have
stolen my money! Who can it be? What has become of him?
Where is he? Where is he hiding himself ? What shall I do to
find him ? Where shall I run ? Where shall I not run ? Is he
not here ? — Who is this? Stop! [To himself, taking hold of his
own arm. ] Give me back my money, wretch! — Ah! it is myself.
— My mind is wandering, and I know not where I am, who I am,
and what I am doing. Alas! my poor money! my poor money!
my dearest friend, they have bereaved me of thee; and since
thou art gone, I have lost my support, my consolation, and my
-
## p. 10168 (#596) ##########################################
10168
MOLIÈRE
joy. All is ended for me, and I have nothing more to do in
the world! Without thee it is impossible for me to live. It is
all over with me; I can bear it no longer. I am dying; I am
dead; I am buried. Is there nobody who will call me from
the dead, by restoring my dear money to me, or by telling
me who has taken it? Ah! what is it you say ?
It is no one.
Whoever has committed the deed must have watched carefully
for his opportunity, and must have chosen the very moment
when I was talking with my miscreant of a son. I must go. I
will demand justice, and have the whole of my house put to
the torture,- my maids and my valets, my son, my daughter,
and myself too. What a crowd of people are assembled here!
Every one seems to be my thief.
I see
one who does not
rouse suspicion in me. Ha! what are they speaking of there?
Of him who stole my money? What noise is that up yonder?
Is it my thief who is there? For pity's sake, if you know any-
thing of my thief, I beseech you to tell me. Is he hiding there
among you ? They all look at me and laugh. We shall see that
they all have a share in the robbery. Quick! magistrates, police,
provosts, judges, racks, gibbets, and executioners. I will hang
everybody; and if I do not find my money, I will hang myself
afterwards.
Translation by Charles Heron Wall.
no
ALCESTE ACCUSES CÉLIMÈNE
From "The Misanthrope)
LCESTE
A
-Oh, heaven! may I control my just anger!
Célimène [aside]— Ah! [To Alceste. ] What is this new
trouble I see you in? what mean those deep sighs and those
dark looks you cast upon me ?
Alceste - That all the wickedness a soul is capable of can in
nothing be compared to your perfidy; that fate, devils, and in-
censed Heaven never produced anything so worthless as yourself.
Célimène — These are pretty speeches, which I certainly ad-
mire.
Alceste - Ah! no more jesting; this is not a time for laughter.
Rather let the blush of shame cover your face; you have cause,
for your treachery is known. So the presentiments of my heart
## p. 10169 (#597) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10169
were true; its alarms were but too well founded, and those fre-
quent suspicions which were thought odious were true guides to
what my eyes have now seen. Yes, in spite of all your skill in
dissimulation, Heaven hinted to me what I had to fear. But do
not think that I shall bear this insult unavenged. I know that
it is not in our power to govern our inclinations; that love is
always spontaneous; that we cannot enter a heart by force, and
that every heart is free to name its conqueror.
I would not com-
plain, therefore, if you had from the first spoken to me without
dissembling; for although you would have crushed within me the
very springs of my life, I should have blamed my fate alone for
it.
But to think that my love was encouraged by you! It is such
a treacherous, such a perfidious action, that no punishment seems
too great for it. After such an outrage, fear everything from
me: I am no longer master of myself; anger has conquered me.
Pierced to the heart by the cruel blow with which you kill
me, my senses are not overswayed by reason. I yield myself up
to a just revenge, and I cannot answer for what I may do.
Célimène — What can have called forth such an insult ? Have
you lost all sense and judgment ? Pray speak!
Alceste — Yes, when on seeing you I drank in the poison which
is killing me; yes, when like a fool I thought I had found some
sincerity in those treacherous charms that have deceived me.
Célimène - Of what treachery are you complaining ?
Alceste -- Ah! false heart, how well you feign ignorance! But
I will leave you no loop-hole of escape! Look at your own
handwriting; this letter is sufficient to confound you; against such
evidence you can have nothing to answer.
Célimène — So this is the cause of your strange outburst.
Alceste — And you do not blush at the sight?
Célimène — There is no occasion for me to blush.
Alceste -- What! will you add audacity to your deceit ? Will
you disown this letter because it is not signed ?
Célimène — Why should I disown it, when it is mine?
Alceste — And you can look at it without being ashamed of
the crime of which it shows you to be guilty towards me ?
Célimène — You are in truth a most foolish man.
Alceste — What! you face thus calmly this all-convincing
proof? And the tenderness you show in it for Oronte, has it
nothing that can outrage me or shame you ?
Célimène Oronte! Who told you that this letter is for
him ?
-
## p. 10170 (#598) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10170
But sup-
Alceste — Those who to-day put it in my hands.
pose I grant that it is for another, have I less cause to complain?
and would you be in fact less guilty towards me?
Célimène — But if the letter was written to a woman, in what
can it hurt you, and what guilt is there in it?
Alceste — Ah! the evasion is excellent, and the excuse admira-
ble! I must acknowledge that I did not expect such deceit, and
I am now altogether convinced. What! do you dare to have
recourse to such base tricks ? Do you think people entirely de-
void of understanding ? Show me a little in what way you can
maintain such a palpable falsehood, and how you can apply to a
woman all the words which in this letter convey so much ten-
derness. In order to cover your infidelity, reconcile if you can
what I am going to read to —
Célimène — No, I will not. What right have you to assume
such authority, and to dare to tell me such things to my face?
Alceste - No, no: instead of giving way to anger, try to ex-
plain to me the expressions you use here.
Célimène — I shall do nothing of the kind; and what you
think on the subject matters very little to me.
Alceste - For pity's sake, show me, and I shall be satisfied,
that this letter can be explained to be meant for a woman.
Célimène -- It is for Oronte; there! and I will have you be-
lieve it. I receive all his attentions gladly. I admire what he
says; I like his person, and I admit whatever you please. Do as
you like, take your own course, let nothing stop you, and annoy
me no more.
Alceste [aside] - Oh, heavens! can anything more cruel be
invented; and
a heart treated in such a manner ?
What! I am justly incensed against her, I come to complain, and
I must bear the blame! She excites my grief and my suspicion
to the utmost. She wishes me to believe everything, she boasts
of everything; and yet my heart is cowardly enough not to
break the bonds that bind it, cowardly enough not to arm itself
with deserved contempt for the cruel one it, alas! loves too
much. [To Célimène. ] Ah! faithless woman, you well know
how to take advantage of my weakness, and to make the deep
yearning love I have for you serve your own ends.
Clear your.
self at least of a crime which overwhelms me with grief, and cease
to affect to be guilty towards me. Show me, if you can,
that
this letter is innocent; strive to appear faithful to me, and I
will strive to believe you.
was
ever
## p. 10171 (#599) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10171
Célimène — Believe me, you forget yourself in your jealous fits,
and you do not deserve all the love I feel for you. I should like
to know what could compel me to condescend to the baseness
of dissembling with you; and why, if my heart were engaged
to another, I should not frankly tell you so. What! does not
the kind assurance of my feelings toward you plead my defense
against all your suspicions? Have they any weight before such
a pledge? Do you not insult me when you give way to them ?
And since it requires so great an effort for us to speak our love;
since the honor of our sex, that enemy to love, so strictly forbids
such a confession, — should the lover who sees us for his sake
conquer such obstacles, think lightly of that testimony and go
unpunished? Is he not to blame if he does not trust what we
have confessed with so much reluctance ? Indeed, my indignation
should be the reward of such doubts, and you do not deserve
that I should care for you. I am very foolish, and am vexed at
my own folly for still retaining any good-will toward you. I
ought to place my affections elsewhere, and thus give you just
excuse for complaint.
Alceste — Ah, faithless woman! How wonderful is my weak-
ness for you! You deceive me, no doubt, with such endearing
words. But let it be: I must submit to my destiny; I give my-
self heart and soul to you.
I will to the end see
what your heart will prove to be, and if it can be cruel enough
to deceive me.
Célimène — No: you do not love me as you ought to love.
Alceste - Ah! nothing can be compared with my exceeding
great love; and in my anxiety to make the whole world a wit-
ness to it, I even go so far as to form wishes against you. Yes,
I could wish that no one thought you charming; that you were
reduced to a humbler lot; that Heaven, at your birth, had be-
stowed nothing upon you; that you had neither rank, high birth,
nor wealth: so that my heart, in offering itself, might make up
for the injustice of such a fate, and that I might have both the
happiness and the glory on that day of seeing you owe every-
thing to my love.
Translation of Charles Heron Wall.
I trust you.
## p. 10172 (#600) ##########################################
10172
MOLIÈRE
A SINCERE CRITIC SELDOM PLEASES
From "The Misanthrope )
[The scene is the house of Célimène (the heroine of the play) in Paris.
In the apartment are Alceste, known for his too-plain speech as “the misan-
thrope )); and the far more politic and compliant Philinte. Oronte enters to
them, eager for literary flattery from Alceste. The scene is from the first act
of the play. ]
O
RONTE [to Alceste] – I learnt just now that Eliante and Céli-
mène are gone out to make some purchases: but as I was
also told that you were here, I came up to say, in all
sincerity of heart, that I have conceived for you an incredible
esteem; and that for a long time this esteem has given me an
ardent desire to be numbered among your friends. Yes, I love
to render justice to true merit, and I long to be united to you
in the close bond of friendship. I think that a warm friend,
and one of my standing, is assuredly not to be despised. [During
this discourse of Oronte, Alceste is thoughtful, and does not set m
aware that he is spoken to, until Oronte says to him:] With your
leave, it is to you that I am speaking.
Alcesto To me, sir ?
Oronte — To you. Does it in any way wound your feelings?
Alceste -- Not in the least; but my surprise is great. I did
not expect this homage to be paid to me.
Oronte - The esteem I feel for you ought not to surprise you,
and you can claim it from the whole world.
Alceste — Sir –
Oronte — The whole kingdom contains no merit more dazzling
than that which is to be found in you.
Alceste — Sir -
Oronte — Yes. I consider you superior to the highest amongst
us.
Alceste - Sir —
Oronte — May Heaven strike me dead if I lie! And in order
to convince you of my feelings, allow me in this place to em-
brace you with all my heart, and to solicit a place in your affec-
tions. Come, your hand if you please. Will you promise me
your friendship?
Alceste - Sir -
Oronte What! you refuse me?
## p. 10173 (#601) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10173
Alceste Sir, it is too great an honor you wish to pay me;
but friendship requires a little more caution, and we surely pro-
fane its name when we lightly make use of it. Such a compact
ought to spring from judgment and choice, and before we bind
ourselves we ought to be better acquainted. Our dispositions
might differ so greatly as to make us both heartily repent of the
bargain.
Oronte — Upon my word, you speak like a sensible man, and
I esteem you all the more for it. Let us then leave the form-
ing of such pleasant ties to time; but meanwhile believe that I
am entirely at your service. If some overture is to be made for
you at court, every one knows that I am in favor with the King,
that I have his private ear, and that really he behaves in all
things most kindly to me. In short, believe that I am in every-
thing and at all times at your disposal. As you are a man of
great judgment, I come, by way of beginning this happy bond
of friendship, to read you a sonnet which I have lately com-
posed, and to ask you if I should do well to publish it.
Alceste - Sir, I am ill qualified to decide on such a matter;
pray excuse me.
Oronte - Why?
Alceste--I have the weakness of being a little too sincere
about those things.
Oronte — Sincerity is what I ask of you; and I should have
reason to complain, if when I come to you in order to hear the
plain truth, you frustrate my purpose by concealing anything
from me.
Alceste - If it is thus you look upon it, sir, I consent.
Oronte - Sonnet. It is a sonnet on Hope. It is to a lady
who had given some encouragement to my love. Hope. These
are not those long, pompous verses; but soft, tender, languishing
little lines. [At every one of these interruptions he looks at
Alceste. ]
Alceste - We shall see.
Oronte — Hope. I do not know whether the style will seem
clear and easy to you, and whether you will be satisfied with my
choice of words.
Alceste — We shall see, sir.
Oronte -- Besides, you must know that I was only a quarter
of an hour composing it.
## p. 10174 (#602) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10174
Alceste — Come, sir, time has nothing to do with the matter.
Oronte [reads] -
Hope, it is true, can ease our pain
And rock awhile our hapless mind;
But, Phyllis, what a sorry gain
When nothing pleasant walks behind.
Philinte - I think this beginning charming!
Alceste [aside to Philinte] - What! you dare to find that charm-
ing?
Oronte
Your complaisance was great indeed,
But better 'twere to clip its scope,
And not to such expense proceed,
If you could give me — only hope.
Philinte -- Ah! in what charming terms those things are said !
Alceste [aside to Philinte]— Shame on you, you vile flatterer!
you praise that rubbish!
Oronte -
If age - long expectation's pest-
The ardor of my zeal must test,
To death at last l'll fly.
My purpose braves your every care;
Fair Phyllis, men will soon despair
When doomed to hope for aye.
Philinte — The fall is pretty, lovable, admirable.
Alceste [aside to Philinte]— Plague take your fall, wretched
sycophant! Deuce take you! I wish it had broken your neck.
Philinte I have never heard verses so skillfully turned.
Alceste [aside] - Zounds!
Oronte [to Philinte]- You are flattering me, and you think
perhaps —
Philinte - No indeed, I am not flattering you at all.
Alceste [aside]— Ha! what else are you doing, impostor ?
Oronte [to Alceste]— But you, you remember the agreement
we made, and I beg of you to speak to me in all sincerity.
Alceste — Sir, this is at all times a delicate matter, and we
always like people to praise us for our genius. But one day I
was saying to some one, whose name I will not mention, on see-
ing verses of his composition, that a gentleman should carefully
## p. 10175 (#603) ##########################################
MOLIÈRE
10175
guard against the hankering after authorship which is apt to seize
us; that he should check the great propensity we have of making
a display of such pastimes; and that by too great an eagerness
to show our productions we run the risk of making ourselves
ridiculous.
Oronte — Do you mean me to understand by this that I am
wrong in wishing-
Alceste —I do not say that. But I said to him that a life-
less composition is very wearisome to those who read it; that
such a weakness is sufficient to make a man the object of unkind
remarks; that although in other respects he may have the most
sterling qualities, we generally judge of men by their weakest
side.
Oronte — Do you find fault with my sonnet ?
Alceste - I do not say that. But to keep him from writing, I I
pointed out to him how in our days that thirst had spoilt many
a worthy man.
Oronte — Do I write badly, and do I resemble in any way -
Alceste — I do not say that. But in short, I said to him, What
pressing necessity is there for you to rhyme, and what the deuce
urges you to put your name in print ? If we can forgive the
publication of a wretched book, it is only to those unfortunate
men who scribble for a living. Believe me; resist the tempta-
tion, keep such effusions from public notice, and do not throw
away, however you may be tempted, the name of a man of sense
and a gentleman which you bear at court, to take from the
hands of a grasping printer, that of a ridiculous and wretched
author. This is what I tried to make him understand.
Oronte — And I think I understand you. But this is all very
well. May I know what in my sonnet can —
Alceste — Truly, you had better shut it up in your cabinet:
you have followed bad models, and your expressions are in no
way natural.
Pray what is — "And rock awhile our hapless
mind”? and Nothing pleasant walks behind ” ? also "And not
to such expense proceed, If you could give me only hope »? or
“Fair Phyllis, men will soon despair, When doomed to hope for
aye”? This figurative style that people are so vain of, falls far
short of good taste and truth. It is a paltry play on words, and
mere affectation. Nature never speaks thus. I hate the wretched
taste of the age in these matters. Our forefathers, unpolished as
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MOLIÈRE
they were, understood these things better; and I value less all
that is now admired than an old song which I will repeat to
you:
« If the King had given me
Paris town, so great and gay,
And for it I had to flee
From my lady-love away,
To King Henry I should say,
Take your Paris back, I pray:
I had liefer love my love, O,
I had liefer love my love. "
The versification is not rich, and the style is old. But do you
not see how much better it is than all that trumpery which good
sense must abhor, and that here simple nature speaks ? —
« If the King had given me
Paris town, so great and gay,
And for it I had to flee
From my lady-love away,
To King Henry I should say,
Take your Paris back, I pray:
I had liefer love my love, O,
I had liefer love my love. "
This is what a heart truly in love would say. —[To Philinte, who
laughs. ] Yes, you may laugh as much as you please; but what-
ever you men of wit may say, I prefer this to the showy glitter
of those false trinkets which every one admires.
Oronte — And yet I maintain that my verses are good.
Alceste — You have your own reasons for thinking them so;
but you will allow me to be of a different opinion, and my rea-
sons to be independent of yours.
Oronte — I think it sufficient that others prize them.
Alceste — No doubt they have the gift of dissimulation, which
I have not.
Oronte — Do you really think that you have such a large
share of intelligence ?
Alceste - If I praised your verses, I should have more.
Oronte -- I can easily do without your approbation.
Alceste – You must certainly, if you please, do without it.
Oronte I should like to see how you would set about com.
posing some on the same subject.
## p.
