Produced by Charles Franks, Delphine Lettau and the people at DP.
THE SHOPKEEPER TURNED GENTLEMAN. (LE BOURGEOIS GENTILHOMME.)
BY
MOLIERE,
TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH PROSE.
_WITH SHORT INTRODUCTIONS AND EXPLANATORY NOTES_.
BY
CHARLES HERON WALL.
'Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme' was acted before the King for the first
time at Chambord, on October 14, 1670, and on November 28 at the
Palais Royal. After the second representation, Louis XIV. said to
Moliere, "You have never written anything which amused me more, and
your play is excellent." But it obtained a still greater success in
Paris, where the _bourgeois_ willingly and good-humouredly
laughed at what they deemed their neighbours' weaknesses. The three
first acts are the best; Louis XIV. hurried Moliere so with the last
that they degenerated into burlesque.
Moliere acted the part of the Bourgeois.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
MR. JOURDAIN.
CLEONTE, _in love with_ LUCILE.
DORANTE, _a count, in love with_ DORIMENE.
COVIELLE, _servant to_ CLEONTE.
A MUSIC MASTER, ETC.
A DANCING MASTER, ETC.
A FENCING MASTER.
A PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY.
A MASTER TAILOR.
ASSISTANT TAILORS.
TWO LACKEYS.
MRS. JOURDAIN.
LUCILE, _daughter to_ MR. JOURDAIN.
DORIMENE, _a marchioness_.
NICOLE, _maid-servant to_ MR. JOURDAIN.
_The scene is in_ PARIS, _in_ MR. JOURDAIN'S _house_.
THE SHOPKEEPER TURNED GENTLEMAN.
ACT I.
_The overture is played by a great many instruments; and in the
middle of the stage the PUPIL of the MUSIC MASTER is seated at a table
composing a serenade which MR. JOURDAIN has asked for_.
SCENE I.--MUSIC MASTER, DANCING MASTER, THREE SINGERS, TWO VIOLIN
PLAYERS, FOUR DANCERS.
MUS. MAS. (_to the_ MUSICIANS). Come into this room, and rest
till he comes.
DAN. MAS. (_to the_ DANCERS). Come also, on this side.
MUS. MAS. (_to his_ PUPIL). Have you finished?
PUP. Yes.
MUS. MAS. Let me see. Very good.
DAN. MAS. Is it anything new?
MUS. MAS. Yes; it is an air for a serenade that I made him compose
while we are waiting for our gentleman to wake up.
DAN. MAS. Will you allow me to see what it is?
MUS. MAS. You shall hear it, as well as the dialogue, when he comes;
he won't be long.
DAN. MAS. We both have plenty to do now; have we not?
MUS. MAS. Indeed we have. We have found the very man we both wanted.
He brings us in a comfortable little income, with his notions of
gentility and gallantry which he has taken into his head; and it would
be well for your dancing and my music if everybody were like him.
DAN. MAS. No; not altogether. I wish, for his sake, that he would
appreciate better than he does the things we give him.
MUS. MAS. He certainly understands them but little; but he pays well,
and that is nowadays what our arts require above all things.
DAN. MAS. I must confess, for my part, that I rather hunger after
glory. Applause finds a very ready answer in my heart, and I think it
mortifying enough that in the fine arts we should have to exhibit
ourselves before fools, and submit our compositions to the vulgar
taste of an ass. No! say what you will, there is a real pleasure in
working for people who are able to appreciate the refinements of an
art; who know how to yield a kind recognition to the beauties of a
work, and who, by felicitous approbations, reward you for your labour.
Yes! the most charming recompense one can receive for the things which
one does is to see them understood, and to have them received with the
applause that honours. Nothing, in my opinion, can repay us better
than this for all our fatigues; and the praises of the enlightened are
a true delight to me.
MUS. MAS. I grant it; and I relish them as much as you do. There is
certainly nothing more refreshing than the applause you speak of;
still we cannot live on this flattering acknowledgment of our talent.
Undiluted praise does not give competence to a man; we must have
something more solid to fall back upon, and the best praise is the
praise of the pocket. Our man, it is true, is a man of very limited
capacity, who speaks at random upon all things, and only gives
applause in the wrong place; but his money makes up for the errors of
his judgment. He keeps his discernment in his purse, and his praises
are golden. This ignorant, commonplace citizen is, as you see, better
to us than that clever nobleman who introduced us here.
DAN. MAS. There is some truth in what you say; still I think that you
set a little too much value on money, and that it is in itself
something so base that he who respects himself should never make a
display of his love for it.
MUS. MAS. Yet you receive readily enough the money our man gives you.
DAN. MAS. Certainly; but my whole happiness does not depend upon it;
and I can still wish that with all his wealth he had good taste.
MUS. MAS. I wish it as much as you do; and we are both working as hard
as we can towards that end. But at the same time he gives us the
opportunity of making ourselves known. He shall pay for others, and
others shall praise for him.
DAN. MAS. Here he comes.
SCENE II.--MR. JOURDAIN (_in a dressing-gown and night-cap_), THE
MUSIC MASTER, THE DANCING MASTER, THE PUPIL OF THE MUSIC MASTER, A
LADY SINGER, TWO MEN SINGERS, DANCERS, TWO SERVANTS.
MR. JOUR. Well, gentlemen! and what have you got there? Are you ready
to show me your little drollery?
DAN. MAS. How? What little drollery?
MR. JOUR. Why, the ... what do you call it? Your prologue or dialogue
of songs and dancing.
DAN. MAS. Ah, ah!
MUS. MAS. You see we are quite ready.
MR. JOUR. I have kept you waiting a little, but it is because I am to
be dressed to-day like a man of rank, and my tailor sent me a pair of
silk stockings which I thought I should never be able to get on.
MUS. MAS. We are here only to await your leisure.
MR. JOUR. I hope you will both stop till they have brought me my
clothes, so that you may see me.
DAN. MAS. As you please.
MR. JOUR. You will see me equipped fashionably from head to foot.
MUS. MAS. We have no doubt of it.
MR. JOUR. I have had this dressing gown made for me.
DAN. MAS. It is very handsome,
MR. JOUR. My tailor told me that people of quality are dressed like
this in the morning.
MUS. MAS. It becomes you wonderfully well.
MR. JOUR. Hullo! fellows! hullo! I say; my two lackeys, here!
1ST LACK. Do you want anything, Sir?
MR. JOUR. No; it was only to see if you heard me readily. (_To
the_ TWO MASTERS) What do you think of my liveries?
DAN. MAS. They are magnificent.
MR. JOUR. (_opening his gown, and showing his tight breeches of
scarlet velvet, and a green velvet morning jacket which he is
wearing_). This is a kind of deshabille to go about early in the
morning.
MUS. MAS. It is charming.
MR. JOUR. I say! lackey!
1ST LACK. Sir.
MR. JOUR. The other.
2ND LACK. Sir.
MR. JOUR. (_taking off his dressing-gown_). Hold my dressing-gown.
(_To the_ TWO MASTERS) Do you think I look well so?
DAN. MAS. Perfectly well; nothing could be better.
MR. JOUR. Now let us see a little of this affair of yours.
MUS. MAS. I should like, first of all, for you to hear an air which he
(_pointing to his_ PUPIL) has just composed for the serenade you
asked of me. He is one of my pupils, who has an admirable talent for
this kind of thing.
MR. JOUR. Yes; but you should not have had it done by a pupil; you
were not too good for the business yourself.
MUS. MAS. You must not be deceived, Sir, by the name of pupil. These
kind of pupils know sometimes as much as the greatest masters; and the
air is as beautiful as possible. Only just listen to it.
MR. JOUR. (_to his_ SERVANTS). Hand me my dressing-gown, so that
may hear better.... Stay, I believe that I shall be better without....
No, give it me back again; that will be best.
THE PUPIL
All night and day I languish on;
the sick man none can save
Since those bright eyes have laid him low,
to your stern laws a slave;
If thus to those you love
a meed of care you bring,
What pain, fair Iris, will you find
your foemen's hearts to wring?
MR. JOUR. This song seems to me rather dismal; it sends one to sleep;
could you not enliven it a bit here and there?
MUS. MAS. We must, Sir, suit the air to the words.
MR. JOUR. I was taught a very pretty one quite lately; stop a moment ...
ahem ... What is it? How does it begin?
DAN. MAS. Upon my word, Sir, I do not know.
MR. JOUR. There is some lamb in it.
DAN. MAS. Lamb?
MR. JOUR. Yes, ah! I have it. (_He sings._) /
When I had Jenny seen,
I thought her kind as fair,
I thought she'd gentler been
Than lambkin on the green;
But ah! but ah! she's far less mild,
Far sterner, I declare,
Than tigers are in forests wild.
Now, isn't it pretty?
MUS. MAS. The prettiest thing in the world.
DAN. MAS. And you sing it very well.
MR. JOUR. Do I? I have never learnt music.
MUS. MAS. You ought to learn it, Sir, as you do dancing. These are two
arts which are closely bound together.
DAN. MAS. And which open the human mind to the beauty of things.
MR. JOUR. Do people of rank learn music also?
MUS. MAS. Yes, Sir.
MR. JOUR. I will learn it, then; but I hardly know how I shall find
time for it; for, besides the fencing master who teaches me, I have
engaged a professor of philosophy, who is to begin this morning.
MUS. MAS. Philosophy is something, no doubt; but music, Sir, music....
DAN. MAS. Music and dancing, Sir; in music and dancing we have all
that we need.
MUS. MAS. There is nothing so useful in a state as music.
DAN. MAS. There is nothing so necessary to men as dancing.
MUS. MAS. Without music no kingdom can exist.
DAN. MAS. Without dancing a man can do nothing.
MUS. MAS. All the disorders, all the wars that happen in the world,
are caused by nothing but the want of music.
DAN. MAS. All the sorrows and troubles of mankind, all the fatal
misfortunes which fill the pages of history, the blunders of
statesmen, the failures of great captains, all these come from the
want of a knowledge of dancing.
MR. JOUR. How is that?
MUS. MAS. Does not war arise from a want of concord between them?
MR. JOUR. True.
MUS. MAS. And if all men learnt music, would not this be the means of
keeping them in better harmony, and of seeing universal peace reign in
the world?
MR. JOUR. You are quite right.
DAN. MAS. When a man has committed some fault, either in the
management of his family affairs, or in the government of a state, or
in the command of an army, do we not say, "So-and-so has made a false
step in such an affair"?
MR. JOUR. Yes, we do say so.
DAN. MAS. And from whence can proceed the false step if it is not from
ignorance of the art of dancing?
MR. JOUR. This is true, and you are both right.
DAN. MAS. This will give you an idea of the excellence and importance
of dancing and music.
MR. JOUR. I understand it now.
MUS. MAS. Will you look at our two compositions?
MR. JOUR. Yes.
MUS. MAS. I have already told you that it is a short attempt which I
made some time since to represent the different passions which can be
expressed by music.
MR. JOUR. Very well.
MUS. MAS. (_to the_ SINGERS). Come forward. (_To_ MR.
JOURDAIN) You must fancy that they are dressed like shepherds.
MR. JOUR. Why always shepherds? One sees nothing but that everywhere.
DAN. MAS. When we make people speak to music, we must, for the sake of
probability, adopt the pastoral. Singing has always been affected by
shepherds, and it is not very likely that our princes or citizens
would sing their passions in dialogue.
MR. JOUR. Well! well! Go on.
LADY SINGER.
The realm of passion in a loving heart
Full many a care may vex, full many a smart;
In vain we fondly languish, softly sigh;
We learn too late, whatever friends may cry,
To value liberty before it fly.
1ST MAN SINGER.
Sweeter than liberty are love's bright fires,
Kindling in two fond hearts the same desires;
Happiness could never live by love unfed,
Pleasure itself would die if love were dead.
2ND MAN SINGER.
Love would be sweet if love could constant be,
But ah! sad fate, no faithful loves we see!
The fair are false; no prayers their heart can move,
And who will love when they inconstant prove?
1ST SING. Ah! love, how sweet thou art!
LADY SING. Ah! freedom is happier!
2ND SING. Thou inconstant heart!
1ST SING. To me how dear, how blest!
LADY SING. My soul enraptured see!
2ND SING. I shrink, I turn from thee!
1ST SING. Ah! leave this idle strife, and learn to love.
LADY SING. I will show thee one who'll constant prove.
2ND SING. Alas! where seek her?
LADY SING.
To defend our name,
I offer you my heart, nor heed your blame.
2ND SING. But, Lady, dare I trust that promise blest?
LADY SING. Experience will decide who loves the best.
2ND SING.
Who fails in constancy or depth of love
The gods from him their favour will remove.
ALL THREE.
Such noble feelings should our souls inspire,
And melt our heart beneath love's gentle fire.
For love is sweet when hearts are true and pure,
And love shall last while earth and heaven endure.
MR. JOUR. Is that all?
MUS. MAS. Yes.
MR. JOUR. I think it very well turned out, and there are in it some
pretty enough little sayings.
DAN. MAS. You have here from me an essay of the most beautiful
movements and most graceful attitudes with which a dance can be
varied.
MR. JOUR. Are these shepherds also?
DAN. MAS. They are what you please. (_To the_ DANCERS) Ho! ho!
here!
_Entry of the_ BALLET.
FOUR DANCERS _execute the various movements and steps which the_
DANCING MASTER _orders them_.
ACT II.
SCENE I.--MR. JOURDAIN, DANCING MASTER, MUSIC MASTER.
MR. JOUR. This performance is not bad, and these fellows don't do it
badly.
MUS. MAS. When the dance is accompanied by the music, you will find it
still more effective, and you will see something charming in the
little ballet we have prepared for you.
MR. JOUR. It is for this afternoon, mind; and the person for whom I
have ordered all this is to do me the honour of coming to dine here.
DAN. MAS. Everything is ready.
MUS. MAS. But, Sir, this is not enough; a gentleman magnificent in all
his ideas like you, and who has taste for doing things handsomely,
should have a concert at his house every Wednesday or Thursday.
MR. JOUR. But why should I? Do people of quality have concerts?
MUS. MAS. Yes, Sir.
MR. JOUR. Oh! very well! Then I too must have some. It'll be fine?
MUS. MAS. Very. You must have three voices: a treble, a counter-tenor,
and a bass; which must be accompanied by a bass-viol, a theorbo lute,
and a harpsichord for the thorough-basses, with two violins to play
the harmonics.
MR. JOUR. You must also have a trumpet-marine. [Footnote: An
instrument with one thick string.] The trumpet-marine is an instrument
that I like, and a very harmonious one.
MUS. MAS. Leave all the arrangements to us.
MR. JOUR. Be sure you don't forget to send me, by and by, some singers
to sing at table.
MUS. MAS. You shall have all that is necessary.
MR. JOUR. But, above all, give us a nice ballet.
MUS. MAS. You will be pleased with it, and particularly with certain
minuets which you shall see in it.
MR. JOUR. Ah! minuets are my favourite dance, and you should see me
dance one. Come, my master.
DAN. MAS. A hat, Sir, if you please. (MR. JOURDAIN _takes the hat
from his_ SERVANT, _and puts it on over his night-cap; his master
takes him by both hands, and makes him dance to a minuet air which he
hums._) La, la, la, la, la, la; la, la, la, la, la, la, la; la, la,
la, la, la, la; la, la, la, la, la, la; la, la, la, la, la; in time,
if you please; la, la, la, la, la; the right leg, la, la, la; do not
shake your shoulders so much; la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la;
your two arms are crippled; la, la, la, la, la; hold up your head;
turn out your toes; la, la, la; your body erect.
MR. JOUR. Eh! eh!
MUS. MAS. Wonderfully well done.
MR. JOUR. Now I think of it! Teach me to make a bow to a marchioness.
I shall have need of it presently.
DAN. MAS. A bow to a marchioness?
MR. JOUR. Yes; a marchioness, whose name is Dorimene.
DAN. MAS. Give me your hand.
MR. JOUR. No. You need only do it yourself. I shall be sure to
remember.
DAN. MAS. If you want to salute her with great respect, you must first
of all bow whilst stepping backward, then, advancing towards her, make
three bows, and at the last bow bend down to her very knees.
MR. JOUR. Do it a little for me to see. (_After the_ DANCING
MASTER _has made three bows_) Good.
SCENE II.--MR. JOURDAIN, MUSIC MASTER, DANCING MASTER, A SERVANT.
SER. Sir, your fencing master is here.
MR. JOUR. Make him come in here for my lesson. (_To the_ MUSIC
_and_ DANCING MASTERS) I wish you to see me perform.
SCENE III.--MR. JOURDAIN, FENCING MASTER, MUSIC MASTER, DANCING
MASTER, A SERVANT _holding two foils_.
FEN. MAS. (_taking the two foils from the hands of the_ SERVANT,
_and giving one to_ MR. JOURDAIN). Now, Sir, the salute. The body
upright, resting slightly on the left thigh. The legs not so far
apart; the feet in a line. The wrist in a line with the thigh. The
point of the foil opposite the shoulder. The arm not quite so much
extended. The left hand as high as the eye. The left shoulder more
squared. The head erect; the look firm. Advance; the body steady.
Engage my blade in quart, and retain the engagement. One, two. As you
were. Once more, with the foot firm. One, two; a step to the rear.
When you make an attack, Sir, the sword should move first, and the
body be well held back. One, two. Engage my blade in tierce, and
retain the engagement. Advance; the body steady. Advance; one, two.
Recover. Once more. One, two. A step to the rear. On guard, Sir; on
guard. (_The_ FENCING MASTER _delivers two or three attacks,
calling out_, "On guard!")
MR. JOUR. Ah!
MUS. MAS. You are doing wonders.
FEN. MAS. As I have already told you, the whole art of fencing
consists of one of two things--in giving and not receiving; and as I
showed you the other day by demonstrative reason, it is impossible for
you to receive if you know how to turn aside your adversary's weapon
from the line of your body; and this again depends only on a slight
movement of the wrist to the inside or the out. [Footnote: Kindly
corrected by Mr. Maclaren, The Gymnasium, Oxford.]
MR. JOUR. So that a man, without having any courage, is sure of
killing his man, and of not being killed himself.
FEN. MAS. Exactly. Did you not see plainly the demonstration of it?
MR. JOUR. Yes.
FEN. MAS. And this shows you of what importance we must be in a state;
and how much the science of arms is superior to all the other useless
sciences, such as dancing, music....
DAN. MAS. Gently, Mr. Fencing Master; speak of dancing with respect,
if you please.
MUS. MAS. Pray learn to treat more properly the excellence of music.
FEN. MAS. You certainly are odd sort of people to try and compare your
sciences to mine.
MUS. MAS. Just see the man of importance!
DAN. MAS. A fine animal, to be sure, with his plastron.
FEN. MAS. Take care, my little dancing master, or I shall make you
dance in fine style. And you, my little musician, I'll teach you to
sing out.
DAN. MAS. And you, my beater of iron, I'll teach you your trade.
MR. JOUR. (_to the_ DANCING MASTER). Are you mad to go and
quarrel with a man, who understands tierce and quart, and knows how to
kill another by demonstrative reason?
DAN. MAS. I don't care a straw for his demonstrative reason, and his
tierce and his quart.
MR. JOUR. (_to the_ DANCING MASTER). Gently, I tell you.
FEN. MAS. (_to the_ DANCING MASTER). How! You little impudent
fellow!
MR. JOUR. Ah! my fencing master!
DAN. MAS. (_to the_ FENCING MASTER). How! you great cart-horse!
MR. JOUR. Stop! my dancing master!
FEN. MAS. If I once begin with you....
MR. JOUR. (_to the_ FENCING MASTER). Gently.
DAN. MAR. If I lay my hand upon you....
MR. JOUR. Softly.
FEN. MAS. I will beat you after such a fashion....
MR. JOUR. (_to the_ FENCING MASTER). For goodness sake!
DAN. MAS. I'll thrash you in such a style....
MR. JOUR. (_to the_ DANCING MASTER). I beg of you....
MUS. MAS. Let us teach him a little how to behave himself.
MR. JOUR. (_to the_ MUSIC MASTER). Gracious heavens! Do stop.
SCENE IV.--PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY, MR. JOURDAIN, MUSIC MASTER,
DANCING MASTER, FENCING MASTER, A SERVANT.
MR. JOUR. Oh! you are in the very nick of time with your philosophy.
Pray come here and restore peace among these people.
PROF. PHIL. What is going on? What is the matter, gentlemen?
MR. JOUR. They have got themselves into such a rage about the
importance that ought to be attached to their different professions
that they have almost come to blows over it.
PROF. PHIL. For shame, gentlemen; how can you thus forget yourselves?
Have you not read the learned treatise which Seneca composed on anger?
Is there anything more base and more shameful than the passion which
changes a man into a savage beast, and ought not reason to govern all
our actions?
DAN. MAS. How, Sir! He comes and insults us both in our professions;
he despises dancing, which I teach, and music, which is his
occupation.
PROF. PHIL. A wise man is above all the insults that can be offered
him; and the best and noblest answer one can make to all kinds of
provocation is moderation and patience.
FEN. MAS. They have both the impertinence to compare their professions
to mine!
PROF. PHIL. Why should this offend you? It is not for vain glory and
rank that men should strive among themselves. What distinguishes one
man from another is wisdom and virtue.
DAN. MAS. I maintain that dancing is a science which we cannot honour
too much. [Footnote: In fact, dancing was much more honoured in
Moliere's time than it is now.]
MUS. MAS. And I that music is a science which all ages have revered.
FEN. MAS. And I, I maintain against them both that the science of
attack and defence is the best and most necessary of all sciences.
PROF. PHIL. And for what, then, do you count philosophy? I think you
are all three very bold fellows to dare to speak before me with this
arrogance, and impudently to give the name of science to things which
are not even to be honoured with the name of art, but which can only
be classed with the trades of prize-fighter, street-singer, and
mountebank.
FEN. MAS. Get out, you dog of a philosopher.
MUS. MAS. Get along with you, you beggarly pedant.
DAN. MAS. Begone, you empty-headed college scout.
PROF. PHIL. How, scoundrels that you are!
(_The_ PHILOSOPHER _rushes upon them, and they all three
belabour him_.)
MR. JOUR. Mr. Philosopher.
PROF. PHIL. Infamous villains!
MR. JOUR. Mr. Philosopher!
FEN. MAS. Plague take the animal!
MR. JOUR. Gentlemen!
PROF. PHIL. Impudent cads!
MR. JOUR. Mr. Philosopher!
DAN. MAS. Deuce take the saddled ass!
MR. JOUR. Gentlemen!
PROF. PHIL. Scoundrels!
MR. JOUR. Mr. Philosopher!
MUS. MAS. Devil take the insolent fellow!
MR. JOUR. Gentlemen!
PROF. PHIL. Knaves, beggars, wretches, impostors!
MR. JOUR. Mr. Philosopher! Gentlemen! Mr. Philosopher! Gentlemen! Mr.
Philosopher!
SCENE V.--MR. JOURDAIN, A SERVANT.
MR. JOUR. Well! fight as much as you like, I can't help it; but don't
expect me to go and spoil my dressing-gown to separate you. I should
be a fool indeed to thrust myself among them, and receive some blow or
other that might hurt me.
SCENE VI.--PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY, MR. JOURDAIN, A SERVANT.
PROF. PHIL. (_setting his collar in order_). Now for our lesson.
MR. JOUR. Ah! Sir, how sorry I am for the blows they have given you.
PROF. PHIL. It is of no consequence. A philosopher knows how to
receive things calmly, and I shall compose against them a satire, in
the style of Juvenal, which will cut them up in proper fashion. Let us
drop this subject. What do you wish to learn?
MR. JOUR. Everything I can, for I have the greatest desire in the
world to be learned; and it vexes me more than I can tell that my
father and mother did not make me learn thoroughly all the sciences
when I was young.
PROF. PHIL. This is a praiseworthy feeling. _Nam sine doctrina vita
est quasi mortis imago_. You understand this, and you have no doubt
a knowledge of Latin?
MR. JOUR. Yes; but act as if I had none. Explain to me the meaning of
it.
PROF. PHIL. The meaning of it is, that, _without science, life is an
image of death_.
MR. JOUR. That Latin is quite right.
PROF. PHIL. Have you any principles, any rudiments of science?
MR. JOUR. Oh yes; I can read and write.
PROF. PHIL. With what would you like to begin? Shall I teach you
logic?
MR. JOUR. And what may this logic be?
PROF. PHIL. It is that which teaches us the three operations of the
mind.
MR. JOUR. What are they, these three operations of the mind?
PROF. PHIL. The first, the second, and the third. The first is to
conceive well by means of universals; the second, to judge well by
means of categories; and the third, to draw a conclusion aright by
means of the figures _Barbara, Celarent, Darii, Ferio, Baralipton_, &c.
MR. JOUR. Pooh! what repulsive words. This logic does not by any means
suit me. Teach me something more enlivening.
PROF. PHIL. Will you learn moral philosophy?
MR. JOUR. Moral philosophy?
PROF. PHIL. Yes.
MR. JOUR. What does it say, this moral philosophy?
PROF. PHIL. It treats of happiness, teaches men to moderate their
passions, and....
MR. JOUR. No, none of that. I am devilishly hot-tempered, and,
morality or no morality, I like to give full vent to my anger whenever
I have a mind to it.
PROF. PHIL. Would you like to learn physics?
MR. JOUR. And what have physics to say for themselves?
PROF. PHIL. Physics are that science which explains the principles of
natural things and the properties of bodies, which discourses of the
nature of the elements, of metals, minerals, stones, plants, and
animals; which teaches us the cause of all the meteors, the rainbow,
the _ignis fatuus_, comets, lightning, thunder, thunderbolts,
rain, snow, hail, wind, and whirlwinds.
MR. JOUR. There is too much hullaballoo in all that; too much riot and
rumpus.
PROF. PHIL. What would you have me teach you then?
MR. JOUR. Teach me spelling.
PROF. PHIL. Very good.
MR. JOUR. Afterwards you will teach me the almanac, so that I may know
when there is a moon, and when there isn't one.
PROF. PHIL. Be it so. In order to give a right interpretation to your
thought, and to treat this matter philosophically, we must begin,
according to the order of things, with an exact knowledge of the
nature of the letters, and the different way in which each is
pronounced. And on this head I have to tell you that letters are
divided into vowels, so called because they express the voice, and
into consonants, so called because they are sounded with the vowels,
and only mark the different articulations of the voice. There are five
vowels or voices, _a, e, i, o, u_. [Footnote: It is scarcely
necessary to say that this description, such as it is, only applies to
the French vowels as they are pronounced in _pate, the, ici, cote,
du_ respectively.]
MR. JOUR. I understand all that.
PROF. PHIL. The vowel _a_ is formed by opening the mouth very
wide; _a_.
MR. JOUR. _A, a_; yes.
PROF. PHIL. The vowel _e_ is formed by drawing the lower jaw a
little nearer to the upper; _a, e_.
MR. JOUR. _A, e; a, e;_ to be sure. Ah! how beautiful that is!
PROF. PHIL. And the vowel _i_ by bringing the jaws still closer
to one another, and stretching the two corners of the mouth towards
the ears; _a, e, i_.
MR. JOUR. _A, e, i, i, i, i_. Quite true. Long live science!
PROF. PHIL. The vowel _o_ is formed by opening the jaws, and
drawing in the lips at the two corners, the upper and the lower;_
o_.
MR. JOUR. _O, o_. Nothing can be more correct; _a, e, i, o, i,
o_. It is admirable! _I, o, i, o_.
PROF. PHIL. The opening of the mouth exactly makes a little circle,
which resembles an _o_.
MR. JOUR. _O, o, o_. You are right. _O_! Ah! what a fine
thing it is to know something!
PROF. PHIL. The vowel _u_ is formed by bringing the teeth near
each other without entirely joining them, and thrusting out both the
lips whilst also bringing them near together without quite joining
them; _u_.
MR. JOUR. _U, u_. There is nothing more true; _u_.
PROF. PHIL. Your two lips lengthen as if you were pouting; so that, if
you wish to make a grimace at anybody, and to laugh at him, you have
only to _u_ him.
MR. JOUR. _U, u_. It's true. Oh! that I had studied when I was
younger, so as to know all this.
PROF. PHIL. To-morrow we will speak of the other letters, which are
the consonants.
MR. JOUR. Is there anything as curious in them as in these?
PROF. PHIL. Certainly. For instance, the consonant _d_ is
pronounced by striking the tip of the tongue above the upper teeth;
_da_.
MR. JOUR. _Da, da_. [Footnote: Untranslatable. _Dada_ equals
"cock-horse" in nursery language] Yes. Ah! what beautiful things, what
beautiful things!
PROF. PHIL. The _f_, by pressing the upper teeth upon the lower
lip; _fa_.
MR. JOUR. _Fa, fa_. 'Tis the truth. Ah! my father and my mother,
how angry I feel with you!
PROF. PHIL. And the _r_, by carrying the tip of the tongue up to
the roof of the palate, so that, being grazed by the air which comes
out with force, it yields to it, and, returning to the same place,
causes a sort of tremour; _r, ra_.
MR. JOUR. _R-r-ra; r-r-r-r-r-ra_. That's true. Ah! what a clever
man you are, and what time I have lost. _R-r-ra_.
PROF. PHIL. I will thoroughly explain all these curiosities to you.
MR. JOUR. Pray do. And now I want to entrust you with a great secret.
I am in love with a lady of quality, and I should be glad if you would
help me to write something to her in a short letter which I mean to
drop at her feet.
PROF. PHIL. Very well.
MR. JOUR. That will be gallant; will it not?
PROF. PHIL. Undoubtedly. Is it verse you wish to write to her?
MR. JOUR. Oh no; not verse.
PROF. PHIL. You only wish for prose?
MR. JOUR. No. I wish for neither verse nor prose.
PROF. PHIL. It must be one or the other.
MR. JOUR. Why?
PROF. PHIL. Because, Sir, there is nothing by which we can express
ourselves except prose or verse.
MR. JOUR. There is nothing but prose or verse?
PROF. PHIL. No, Sir. Whatever is not prose is verse; and whatever is
not verse is prose.
MR. JOUR. And when we speak, what is that, then?
PROF. PHIL. Prose.
MR. JOUR. What! When I say, "Nicole, bring me my slippers, and give me
my night-cap," is that prose?
PROF. PHIL. Yes, Sir.
MR. JOUR. Upon my word, I have been speaking prose these forty years
without being aware of it; and I am under the greatest obligation to
you for informing me of it. Well, then, I wish to write to her in a
letter, _Fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of
love_; but I would have this worded in a genteel manner, and turned
prettily.
PROF. PHIL. Say that the fire of her eyes has reduced your heart to
ashes; that you suffer day and night for her tortures....
MR. JOUR. No, no, no; I don't want any of that. I simply wish for what
I tell you. _Fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of
love_.
PROF. PHIL. Still, you might amplify the thing a little?
MR. JOUR. No, I tell you, I will have nothing but those very words in
the letter; but they must be put in a fashionable way, and arranged as
they should be. Pray show me a little, so that I may see the different
ways in which they can be put.
PROF. PHIL. They may be put, first of all, as you have said, _Fair
Marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love_; or else,
_Of love die make me, fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes_; or,
_Your beautiful eyes of love make me, fair Marchioness, die_; or,
_Die of love your beautiful eyes, fair Marchioness, make me_; or
else, _Me make your beautiful eyes die, fair Marchioness, of
love_.
MR. JOUR. But of all these ways, which is the best?
PROF. PHIL. The one you said: _Fair Marchioness, your beautiful eyes
make me die of love_.
MR. JOUR. Yet I have never studied, and I did all that right off at
the first shot. I thank you with all my heart, and I beg of you to
come to-morrow morning early.
PROF. PHIL. I shall not fail.
SCENE VII.--MR. JOURDAIN, A SERVANT.
MR. JOUR. What? Has my suit of clothes not come yet?
SER. No, Sir.
MR. JOUR. That confounded tailor makes me wait a long time on a day
like this, when I have so much business to attend to. I am furious.
May the deuce fly away with the tailor! May the plague choke the
tailor! May the ague shake that brute of a tailor! If I had him here
now, that rascally tailor, that wretch of a tailor, I....
SCENE VIII.--MR. JOURDAIN, THE MASTER TAILOR, AN ASSISTANT TAILOR
(_bringing a suit of clothes for_ MR. JOURDAIN), A SERVANT.
MR. JOUR. Ha! here you are. I was just on the point of getting angry
with you.
TAIL. I could not come sooner, although I set twenty people to work at
your coat.
MR. JOUR. You have sent me such a small pair of silk stockings that I
had no end of trouble to put them on, and two of the stitches are
broken already.
TAIL. They are pretty sure to become only too large.
MR. JOUR. No doubt, if I keep on breaking the stitches. You also sent
me a pair of shoes that hurt me horribly.
TAIL. Not at all, Sir.
MR. JOUR. How! not at all?
TAIL. No; they do not hurt you at all.
MR. JOUR. I tell you they do hurt me.
TAIL. You fancy so.
MR. JOUR. I fancy so because I feel it to be so. Did any one ever hear
such an argument!
TAIL. See, we have the most beautiful and the best matched suit in the
whole court. It is a work of art to have discovered a sober suit of
clothes not black; and I bet that the most skilful tailors would not
do as much after half a dozen trials.
MR. JOUR. Why, what does this mean? You have put all the flowers
upside down.
TAIL. You did not tell me you wished to have them the other way up.
MR. JOUR. Was it necessary to say that?
TAIL. Yes, certainly; for all the people of quality wear them in this
way.
MR. JOUR. All people of quality wear the flowers bottom upwards?
TAIL. Yes, Sir.
MR. JOUR. Oh, then it's all right.
TAIL. If you wish it, I will put them the other way up.
MR. JOUR. No, no.
TAIL. You have only to say so.
MR. JOUR. No, no. I tell you that you have done right. Do you think my
clothes fit me well?
TAIL. No doubt about it. I defy any painter with his pencil to draw
you anything to fit more exactly. I have in my house a workman who to
get up a rhinegrave is the greatest genius of our time, and another
who in putting together a doublet is the hero of our age.
MR. JOUR. Are the wig and feathers as they should be?
TAIL. Everything is right.
MR. JOUR. (_looking carefully at the tailor's coat_). Oh! oh! Mr.
Tailor, you have there some of the stuff of the last coat you made for
me! I know it well.
TAIL. I thought the stuff so beautiful that I could not help cutting a
coat from it for myself.
MR. JOUR. Yes; but you should not have cut it from mine.
TAIL. Will you put on your coat?
MR. JOUR. Yes; give it me.
TAIL. Wait a moment. Things are not done in that manner. I have
brought my people with me to dress you to music; such coats as these
are only put on with ceremony. Hullo there! Come in.
SCENE IX.--MR. JOURDAIN, MASTER TAILOR, ASSISTANT TAILORS
(_dancing_), A SERVANT.
TAIL. Put this gentleman's suit on as you put on those of people of
quality.
(_The four tailors, dancing, come near_ MR. JOURDAIN; _two of
them pull off the breeches he has had on for his exercises; two others
take off his waistcoat; then, still dancing, they dress him in his new
suit_. MR. JOURDAIN _walks round in the midst of them, and shows
them his clothes for them to see whether they fit him_.)
TAILS. My noble gentleman, give something, if you please, to the
tailors to drink your health with.
MR. JOUR. How do you call me?
TAILS. My noble gentleman.
MR. JOUR. See what it is to be dressed like a person of quality! Go
about all your life dressed like a citizen, and nobody will ever call
you a "noble gentleman." (_Giving some money_.) This is for "My
noble gentleman."
TAILS. We are greatly obliged to you, my lord.
MR. JOUR. Oh! oh! Wait a minute, my friends. "My lord" deserves
something; it is no small thing to be "My lord." Here is what his
lordship gives you.
TAILS. My lord, we shall go and drink your grace's health.
MR. JOUR. "Your grace!" Oh! oh! oh! Stay, don't go yet. "Your grace"
to me! (_Aside_) Upon my word, if he goes as far as highness, he
will have the whole purse. (_Aloud_) Take this for "Your grace."
TAILS. My lord, we most humbly thank you for your liberality.
MR. JOUR. He did well to stop. I should have given him all.
_Second entry of the_ BALLET.
_The_ FOUR ASSISTANTS _rejoice, dancing, at the generosity
of_ MR. JOURDAIN.
ACT III.
SCENE I.--MR. JOURDAIN, TWO LACKEYS.
MR. JOUR. Follow me, that I may go and show my clothes about the town;
and be very careful, both of you, to walk close to my heels, so that
people may see that you belong to me.
LACK. Yes, Sir.
MR. JOUR. Just call Nicole. I have some orders to give her. You need
not move; here she comes.