ER. To the deuce with these bores, fifty times over! Where, now, has my
beloved gone to?
LA M. I know not.
ER. Go and search everywhere till you find her. I shall await you in
this walk.
BALLET TO ACT I.
_First Entry_.
Players at Mall, crying out "Ware!" compel Éraste to draw back. After
the players at Mall have finished, Éraste returns to wait for Orphise.
_Second Entry_.
Inquisitive folk advance, turning round him to see who he is, and cause
him again to retire for a little while.
* * * * *
ACT II.
SCENE I.--ÉRASTE, _alone_.
Are the bores gone at last? I think they rain here on every side. The
more I flee from them, the more I light on them; and to add to my
uneasiness, I cannot find her whom I wish to find. The thunder and rain
have soon passed over, and have not dispersed the fashionable company.
Would to Heaven that those gifts which it showered upon us, had driven
away all the people who weary me! The sun sinks fast; I am surprised
that my servant has not yet returned.
SCENE II.--ALCIPPE, ÉRASTE.
ALC. Good day to you.
ER. (_Aside_). How now! Is my passion always to be turned aside?
ALC. Console me, Marquis, in respect of a wonderful game of piquet which
I lost yesterday to a certain Saint-Bouvain, to whom I could have given
fifteen points and the deal. It was a desperate blow, which has been too
much for me since yesterday, and would make me wish all players at the
deuce; a blow, I assure you, enough to make me hang myself in public.--I
wanted only two tricks, whilst the other wanted a piquet. I dealt, he
takes six, and asks for another deal. I, having a little of everything,
refuse. I had the ace of clubs (fancy my bad luck!) the ace, king,
knave, ten and eight of hearts, and as I wanted to make the point, threw
away king and queen of diamonds, ten and queen of spades. I had five
hearts in hand, and took up the queen, which just made me a high
sequence of five. But my gentleman, to my extreme surprise, lays down on
the table a sequence of six low diamonds, together with the ace. I had
thrown away king and queen of the same colour. But as he wanted a
piquet, I got the better of my fear, and was confident at least of
making two tricks. Besides the seven diamonds he had four spades, and
playing the smallest of them, put me in the predicament of not knowing
which of my two aces to keep. I threw away, rightly as I thought, the
ace of hearts; but he had discarded four clubs, and I found myself made
_Capot_ by a six of hearts, unable, from sheer vexation, to say a
single word.
[Footnote: In the seventeenth century, piquet was not played with
thirty-two, but with thirty-six, cards; the sixes, which are now thrown
away, remained then in the pack. Every player received twelve cards, and
twelve remained on the table. He who had to play first could throw away
seven or eight cards, the dealer four or five, and both might take fresh
ones from those that were on the table. A trick counted only when taken
with one of the court-cards, or a ten.
Saint-Bouvain, after having taken up his cards, had in hand six small
diamonds with the ace, which counted 7, a sequence of six diamonds from
the six to the knave counted 16, thus together 23, before he began to
play. With his seven diamonds he made seven tricks, but only counted 3,
for those made by the ace, knave, and ten; this gave him 26. Besides his
seven diamonds he had four spades, most likely the ace, king, knave, and
a little one, and a six of hearts; though he made all the tricks he only
counted 3, which gave him 29. But as Alcippe had not made a single
trick, he was _capot_, which gave Saint-Bouvain 40; this with the
29 he made before, brought the total up to 69. As the latter only wanted
a _piquet_, that is 60,--which is when a player makes thirty in a
game, to which an additional thirty are then added, Saint-Bouvain won
the game. Alcippe does not, however, state what other cards he had in
his hand at the moment the play began besides the ace of clubs and a
high sequence of five hearts, as well as the eight of the same colour.]
By Heaven, account to me for this frightful piece of luck. Could it be
credited, without having seen it?
[Footnote: Compare with Molière's description of the game of piquet
Pope's poetical history of the game of Ombre in the third Canto of
_The Rape of the Lock._]
ER. It is in play that luck is mostly seen.
ALC. 'Sdeath, you shall judge for yourself if I am wrong, and if it is
without cause that this accident enrages me. For here are our two hands,
which I carry about me on purpose. Stay, here is my hand, as I told you;
and here ...
ER. I understood everything from your description, and admit that you
have a good cause to be enraged. But I must leave you on certain
business. Farewell. But take comfort in your misfortune.
ALC. Who; I? I shall always have that luck on my mind; it is worse than
a thunderbolt to me. I mean to shew it to all the world. (_He retires
and on the point of returning, says meditatively_) A six of hearts!
two points.
ER. Where in the world are we? Go where we will, we see nothing but
fools.
SCENE III.--ÉRASTE, LA MONTAGNE.
ER. Ha! how long you have been, and how you have made me suffer.
LA M. Sir, I could not make greater haste.
ER. But at length do you bring me some news?
LA M. Doubtless; and by express command, from her you love, I have
something to tell you.
ER. What? Already my heart yearns for the message. Speak!
LA M. Do you wish to know what it is?
ER. Yes; speak quickly.
LA M. Sir, pray wait. I have almost run myself out of breath.
ER. Do you find any pleasure in keeping me in suspense?
LA M. Since you wish to know at once the orders which I have received
from this charming person, I will tell you.... Upon my word, without
boasting of my zeal, I went a great way to find the lady; and if...
ER. Hang your digressions!
LA M. Fie! you should somewhat moderate your passion; and Seneca...
ER. Seneca is a fool in your mouth, since he tells me nothing of all
that concerns me. Tell me your message at once.
LA M. To satisfy you, Orphise ... An insect has got among your hair.
ER. Let it alone.
LA M. This lovely one sends you word ...
ER. What?
LA M. Guess.
ER. Are you aware that I am in no laughing mood?
LA M. Her message is, that you are to remain in this place, that in a
short time you shall see her here, when she has got rid of some
country-ladies, who greatly bore all people at court.
ER. Let us, then stay in the place she has selected. But since this
message affords me some leisure, let me muse a little. (_Exit La
Montagne_). I propose to write for her some verses to an air which I
know she likes.
(_He walks up and down the stage in a reverie_).
SCENE IV.--ORANTE, CLIMÈNE, ÉRASTE (_at the side of the stage, unseen_.)
OR. Everyone will be of my opinion.
CL. Do you think you will carry your point by obstinacy?
OR. I think my reasons better than yours.
CL. I wish some one could hear both.
OR. I see a gentleman here who is not ignorant; he will be able to judge
of our dispute. Marquis, a word, I beg of you. Allow us to ask you to
decide in a quarrel between us two; we had a discussion arising from our
different opinions, as to what may distinguish the most perfect lovers.
ER. That is a question difficult to settle; you had best look for a more
skilful judge.
OR. No: you speak to no purpose. Your wit is much commended; and we know
you. We know that everyone, with justice, gives you the character of a...
ER. Oh, I beseech you ...
OR. In a word, you shall be our umpire, and you must spare us a couple
of minutes.
CL. (_To Orante_). Now you are retaining one who must condemn you:
for, to be brief, if what I venture to hold be true, this gentleman will
give the victory to my arguments.
ER. (_Aside_). Would that I could get hold of any rascal to invent
something to get me off!
OR. (_To Climène_). For my part, I am too much assured of his sense
to fear that he will decide against me. (_To Éraste_). Well, this
great contest which rages between us is to know whether a lover should
be jealous.
CL. Or, the better to explain my opinion and yours, which ought to
please most, a jealous man or one that is not so?
OR. For my part, I am clearly for the last.
CL. As for me, I stand up for the first.
OR. I believe that our heart must declare for him who best displays
his respect.
CL. And I that, if our sentiments are to be shewn, it ought to be for
him who makes his love most apparent.
OR. Yes; but we perceive the ardour of a lover much better through
respect than through jealousy.
CL. It is my opinion that he who is attached to us, loves us the more
that he shows himself jealous?
OR. Fie, Climène, do not call lovers those men whose love is like
hatred, and who, instead of showing their respect and their ardour, give
themselves no thought save how to become wearisome; whose minds, being
ever prompted by some gloomy passion, seek to make a crime out of the
slightest actions, are too blind to believe them innocent, and demand an
explanation for a glance; who, if we seem a little sad, at once complain
that their presence is the cause of it, and when the least joy sparkles
in our eyes, will have their rivals to be at the bottom of it; who, in
short, assuming a right because they are greatly in love, never speak to
us save to pick a quarrel, dare to forbid anyone to approach us, and
become the tyrants of their very conquerors. As for me, I want lovers to
be respectful; their submission is a sure proof of our sway.
CL. Fie, do not call those men true lovers who are never violent in
their passion; those lukewarm gallants, whose tranquil hearts already
think everything quite sure, have no fear of losing us, and
overweeningly suffer their love to slumber day by day, are on good terms
with their rivals, and leave a free field for their perseverance. So
sedate a love incites my anger; to be without jealousy is to love
coldly. I would that a lover, in order to prove his flame, should have
his mind shaken by eternal suspicions, and, by sudden outbursts, show
clearly the value he sets upon her to whose hand he aspires. Then his
restlessness is applauded; and, if he sometimes treats us a little
roughly, the pleasure of seeing him, penitent at our feet, to excuse
himself for the outbreak of which he has been guilty, his tears, his
despair at having been capable of displeasing us, are a charm to soothe
all our anger.
OR. If much violence is necessary to please you, I know who would
satisfy you; I am acquainted with several men in Paris who love well
enough to beat their fair ones openly.
CL. If to please you, there must never be jealousy, I know several men
just suited to you; lovers of such enduring mood that they would see you
in the arms of thirty people without being concerned about it.
OR. And now you must, by your sentence, declare whose love appears to
you preferable.
(_Orphise appears at the back of the stage, and sees Éraste between
Orante and Climène_).
ER. Since I cannot avoid giving judgment, I mean to satisfy you both at
once; and, in order, not to blame that which is pleasing in your eyes,
the jealous man loves more, but the other loves wisely.
CL. The judgment is very judicious; but...
ER. It is enough. I have finished. After what I have said permit me to
leave you.
SCENE V.--ORPHISE, ÉRASTE.
ER. (_Seeing Orphise, and going to meet her_). How long you have
been, Madam, and how I suffer ...
ORPH. Nay, nay, do not leave such a pleasant conversation. You are wrong
to blame me for having arrived too late. (_Pointing to Orante and
Climène, who have just left_). You had wherewithal to get on without
me.
ER. Will you be angry with me without reason, and reproach me with what
I am made to suffer? Oh, I beseech you, stay ...
ORPH. Leave me, I beg, and hasten to rejoin your company.
SCENE VI.--ÉRASTE, _alone_.
Heaven! must bores of both sexes conspire this day to frustrate my
dearest wishes? But let me follow her in spite of her resistance, and
make my innocence clear in her eyes.
SCENE VII.--DORANTE, ÉRASTE.
DOR. Ah, Marquis, continually we find tedious people interrupting the
course of our pleasures! You see me enraged on account of a splendid
hunt, which a booby ... It is a story I must relate to you.
ER. I am looking for some one, and cannot stay.
DOR. (_Retaining him_). Egad, I shall tell it you as we go along.
We were a well selected company who met yesterday to hunt a stag; on
purpose we went to sleep on the ground itself--that is, my dear sir, far
away in the forest. As the chase is my greatest pleasure, I wished, to
do the thing well, to go to the wood myself; we decided to concentrate
our efforts upon a stag which every one said was seven years old.
[Footnote: The original expression is _cerf dix-corps_; this,
according to the _dictionnaire de chasse_, is a seven years' old
animal.]
But my own opinion was--though I did not stop to observe the marks--that
it was only a stag of the second year.
[Footnote: The technical term is: "a knobbler;" in French, _un cerf à
sa seconde tête.]
We had separated, as was necessary, into different parties, and were
hastily breakfasting on some new-laid eggs, when a regular
country-gentleman, with a long sword, proudly mounted on his brood-mare,
which he honoured with the name of his good mare, came up to pay us an
awkward compliment, presenting to us at the same time, to increase our
vexation, a great booby of a son, as stupid as his father. He styled
himself a great sportsman, and begged that he might have the pleasure of
accompanying us. Heaven preserve every sensible sportsman, when hunting,
from a fellow who carries a dog's horn, which sounds when it ought not;
from those gentry who, followed by ten mangy dogs, call them "my pack,"
and play the part of wonderful hunters. His request granted, and his
knowledge commended, we all of us started the deer,
[Footnote: The original has _frapper à nos brisées_; _brisées_
means "blinks." According to Dr. Ash's Dictionary, 1775, "Blinks are the
boughs or branches thrown in the way of a deer to stop its course."]
within thrice the length of the leash, tally-ho! the dogs were put on
the track of the stag. I encouraged them, and blew a loud blast. My stag
emerged from the wood, and crossed a pretty wide plain, the dogs after
him, but in such good order that you could have covered them all with
one cloak. He made for the forest. Then we slipped the old pick upon
him; I quickly brought out my sorrel-horse. You have seen him?
ER. I think not.
DOR. Not seen him? The animal is as good as he is beautiful; I bought
him some days ago from Gaveau.
[Footnote: A well-known horse-dealer in Molière's time.]
I leave you to think whether that dealer, who has such a respect for me,
would deceive me in such a matter; I am satisfied with the horse. He
never indeed sold a better, or a better-shaped one. The head of a barb,
with a clear star; the neck of a swan, slender, and very straight; no
more shoulder than a hare; short-jointed, and full of vivacity in his
motion. Such feet--by Heaven! such feet!--double-haunched: to tell you
the truth, it was I alone who found the way to break him in. Gaveau's
Little John never mounted him without trembling, though he did his best
to look unconcerned. A back that beats any horse's for breadth; and
legs! O ye Heavens!
[Footnote: Compare the description of the horse given by the Dauphin in
Shakespeare's Henry V., Act iii., Scene 6, and also that of the "round
hoof'd, short jointed" jennet in the _Venus and Adonis_ of the same
author.]
In short, he is a marvel; believe me, I have refused a hundred pistoles
for him, with one of the horses destined for the King to boot. I then
mounted, and was in high spirits to see some of the hounds coursing over
the plain to get the better of the deer. I pressed on, and found myself
in a by-thicket at the heels of the dogs, with none else but Drecar.
[Footnote: A famous huntsman in Molière's time.]
There for an hour our stag was at bay. Upon this, I cheered on the dogs,
and made a terrible row. In short, no hunter was ever more delighted! I
alone started him again; and all was going on swimmingly, when a young
stag joined ours. Some of my dogs left the others. Marquis, I saw them,
as you may suppose, follow with hesitation, and Finaut was at a loss.
But he suddenly turned, which delighted me very much, and drew the dogs
the right way, whilst I sounded horn and hallooed, "Finaut! Finaut!" I
again with pleasure discovered the track of the deer by a mole-hill, and
blew away at my leisure. A few dogs ran back to me, when, as ill-luck
would have it, the young stag came over to our country bumpkin. My
blunderer began blowing like mad, and bellowed aloud, "Tallyho! tallyho!
tallyho!" All my dogs left me, and made for my booby. I hastened there,
and found the track again on the highroad. But, my dear fellow, I had
scarcely cast my eyes on the ground, when I discovered it was the other
animal, and was very much annoyed at it. It was in vain to point out to
the country fellow the difference between the print of my stag's hoof
and his. He still maintained, like an ignorant sportsman, that this was
the pack's stag; and by this disagreement he gave the dogs time to get a
great way off. I was in a rage, and, heartily cursing the fellow, I
spurred my horse up hill and down dale, and brushed through boughs as
thick as my arm. I brought back my dogs to my first scent, who set off,
to my great joy, in search of our stag, as though he were in full view.
They started him again; but, did ever such an accident happen? To tell
you the truth, Marquis, it floored me. Our stag, newly started, passed
our bumpkin, who, thinking to show what an admirable sportsman he was,
shot him just in the forehead with a horse-pistol that he had brought
with him, and cried out to me from a distance, "Ah! I've brought the
beast down!" Good Heavens! did any one ever hear of pistols in
stag-hunting? As for me, when I came to the spot, I found the whole
affair so odd, that I put spurs to my horse in a rage, and returned home
at a gallop, without saying a single word to that ignorant fool.
ER. You could not have done better; your prudence was admirable. That is
how we must get rid of bores. Farewell.
DOR. When you like, we will go somewhere where we need not dread
country-hunters.
ER. (_Alone_). Very well. I think I shall lose patience in the end.
Let me make all haste, and try to excuse myself.
BALLET TO ACT II.
_First Entry_.
Bowlers stop Éraste to measure a distance about which there is a
dispute. He gets clear of them with difficulty, and leaves them to dance
a measure, composed of all the postures usual to that game.
_Second Entry_.
Little boys with slings enter and interrupt them, who are in their turn
driven out by
_Third Entry_.
Cobblers, men and women, their fathers, and others, who are also driven
out in their turn.
_Fourth Entry_.
A gardener, who dances alone, and then retires.
* * * * *
ACT III.
SCENE I.--ÉRASTE, LA MONTAGNE.
ER. It is true that on the one hand my efforts have succeeded; the
object of my love is at length appeased. But on the other hand I am
wearied, and the cruel stars have persecuted my passion with double
fury. Yes, Damis, her guardian, the worst of bores, is again hostile to
my tenderest desires, has forbidden me to see his lovely niece, and
wishes to provide her to-morrow with another husband. Yet Orphise, in
spite of his refusal, deigns to grant me this evening a favour; I have
prevailed upon the fair one to suffer me to see her in her own house, in
private. Love prefers above all secret favours; it finds a pleasure in
the obstacle which it masters; the slightest conversation with the
beloved beauty becomes, when it is forbidden, a supreme favour. I am
going to the rendezvous; it is almost the hour; since I wish to be there
rather before than after my time.
LA M. Shall I follow you?
ER. No. I fear least you should make me known to certain suspicious persons.
LA M. But ....
ER. I do not desire it.
LA M. I must obey you. But at least, if at a distance....
ER. For the twentieth time will you hold your tongue? And will you never
give up this practice of perpetually making yourself a troublesome
servant?
SCENE II.--CARITIDÈS; ÉRASTE.
CAR. Sir, it is an unseasonable time to do myself the honour of waiting
upon you; morning would be more fit for performing such a duty, but it
is not very easy to meet you, for you are always asleep, or in town. At
least your servants so assure me. I have chosen this opportunity to see
you. And yet this is a great happiness with which fortune favours me,
for a couple of moments later I should have missed you.
ER. Sir, do you desire something of me?
CAR. I acquit myself, sir, of what I owe you; and come to you ... Excuse
the boldness which inspires me, if...
ER. Without so much ceremony, what have you to say to me?
CAR. As the rank, wit, and generosity which every one extols in you...
ER. Yes, I am very much extolled. Never mind that, sir.
CAR. Sir, it is a vast difficulty when a man has to introduce himself;
we should always be presented to the great by people who commend us in
words, whose voice, being listened to, delivers with authority what may
cause our slender merit to be known. In short, I could have wished that
some persons well-informed could have told you, sir, what I am...
ER. I see sufficiently, sir, what you are. Your manner of accosting me
makes that clear.
CAR. Yes, I am a man of learning charmed by your worth; not one of those
learned men whose name ends simply in _us_. Nothing is so common as
a name with a Latin termination. Those we dress in Greek have a much
superior look; and in order to have one ending in _ès_, I call
myself Mr. Caritidès.
ER. Caritidès be it. What have you to say?
CAR. I wish, sir, to read you a petition, which I venture to beg of you
to present to the King, as your position enables you to do.
ER. Why, sir, you can present it yourself! ...
CAR. It is true that the King grants that supreme favour; but, from the
very excess of his rare kindness, so many villainous petitions, sir, are
presented that they choke the good ones; the hope I entertain is that
mine should be presented when his Majesty is alone.
ER. Well, you can do it, and choose your own time.
CAR. Ah, sir, the door-keepers are such terrible fellows! They treat men
of learning like snobbs and butts; I can never get beyond the
guard-room. The ill-treatment I am compelled to suffer would make me
withdraw from court for ever, if I had not conceived the certain hope
that you will be my Mecaeænas with the King. Yes, your influence is to
me a certain means ...
ER. Well, then, give it me; I will present it.
CAR. Here it is. But at least, hear it read.
ER. No ...
CAR. That you may be acquainted with it, sir, I beg.
"TO THE KING.
"_Sire,--Your most humble, most obedient, most faithful and most
learned subject and servant, Caritidès, a Frenchman by birth, a
Greek_
[Footnote: The original has _Grec_, a Greek. Can Caritidès have
wished to allude to the _græaca fides_? _Grec_ means also a
cheat at cards, and is said to owe its name to a certain Apoulos, a
knight of Greek origin, who was caught in the very act of cheating at
play in the latter days of Louis XIV.'s reign, even in the palace of the
_grand monarque_.]
_by profession, having considered the great and notable abuses which
are perpetrated in the inscriptions on the signs of houses, shops,
taverns, bowling-alleys, and other places in your good city of Paris;
inasmuch as certain ignorant composers of the said inscriptions subvert,
by a barbarous, pernicious and hateful spelling, every kind of sense and
reason, without any regard for etymology, analogy, energy or allegory
whatsoever, to the great scandal of the republic of letters, and of the
French nation, which is degraded and dishonoured, by the said abuses and
gross faults, in the eyes of strangers, and notably of the Germans,
curious readers and inspectors of the said inscriptions..."
[Footnote: This is an allusion either to the reputation of the Germans
as great drinkers, or as learned decipherers of all kinds of
inscriptions.]
ER. This petition is very long, and may very likely weary...
CAR. Ah, sir, not a word could be cut out.
ER. Finish quickly.
CAR. (Continuing). "_Humbly petitions your Majesty to constitute, for
the good of his state and the glory of his realm, an office of
controller, supervisor, corrector, reviser and restorer in general of
the said inscriptions; and with this office to honour your suppliant, as
well in consideration of his rare and eminent erudition, as of the great
and signal services which he has rendered to the state and to your
Majesty, by making the anagram of your said Majesty in French, Latin,
Greek, Hebrew, Syriac, Chaldean, Arabic_..."
ER. (_Interrupting him_). Very good. Give it me quickly and retire:
it shall be seen by the King; the thing is as good as done.
CAR. Alas! sir, to show my petition is everything. If the King but see
it, I am sure of my point; for as his justice is great in all things, he
will never be able to refuse my prayer. For the rest, to raise your fame
to the skies, give me your name and surname in writing, and I will make
a poem, in which the first letters of your name shall appear at both
ends of the lines, and in each half measure.
ER. Yes, you shall have it to-morrow, Mr. Caritidès. (_Alone_).
Upon my word, such learned men are perfect asses. Another time I should
have heartily laughed at his folly.
SCENE III.--ORMIN, ÉRASTE.
ORM. Though a matter of great consequence brings me here, I wished that
man to leave before speaking to you.
ER. Very well. But make haste; for I wish to be gone.
ORM. I almost fancy that the man who has just left you has vastly
annoyed you, sir, by his visit. He is a troublesome old man whose mind
is not quite right, and for whom I have always some excuse ready to get
rid of him. On the Mall, in the Luxembourg,
[Footnote: The Mall was a promenade in Paris, shaded by trees, near the
Arsenal.]
[Footnote: The Luxembourg was in Molière's time the most fashionable
promenade of Paris.]
and in the Tuileries he wearies people with his fancies; men like you
should avoid the conversation of all those good-for-nothing pedants.
For my part I have no fear of troubling you, since I am come, sir, to
make your fortune.
ER. (_Aside_). This is some alchymist: one of those creatures who
have nothing, and are always promising you ever so much riches.
(_Aloud_). Have you discovered that blessed stone, sir, which alone
can enrich all the kings of the earth?
ORM. Aha! what a funny idea! Heaven forbid, sir, that I should be one of
those fools. I do not foster idle dreams; I bring you here sound words
of advice which I would communicate, through you, to the King, and which
I always carry about me, sealed up. None of those silly plans and vain
chimeras which are dinned in the ears of our superintendents;
[Footnote: This is an allusion to the giver of the feast, Mons. Fouquet,
_surintendant des finances_. See also page 299, note I.]
none of your beggarly schemes which rise to no more than twenty or
thirty millions; but one which, at the lowest reckoning, will give the
King a round four hundred millions yearly, with ease, without risk or
suspicion, without oppressing the nation in any way. In short, it is a
scheme for an inconceivable profit, which will be found feasible at the
first explanation. Yes, if only through you I can be encouraged ...
ER. Well, we will talk of it. I am rather in a hurry.
ORM. If you will promise to keep it secret, I will unfold to you this
important scheme.
ER. No, no; I do not wish to know your secret.
ORM. Sir, I believe you are too discreet to divulge it, and I wish to
communicate it to you frankly, in two words. I must see that none can
hear us. (_After seeing that no one is listening, he approaches
Eraste's ear_). This marvellous plan, of which I am the inventor, is...
ER. A little farther off, sir, for a certain reason.
ORM. You know, without any need of my telling you, the great profit
which the King yearly receives from his seaports. Well, the plan of
which no one has yet thought, and which is an easy matter, is to make
all the coasts of France into famous ports. This would amount to vast
sums; and if ...
ER. The scheme is good, and will greatly please the King. Farewell. We
shall see each other again.
ORM. At all events assist me, for you are the first to whom I have
spoken of it.
ER. Yes, yes.
ORM. If you would lend me a couple of pistoles, you could repay yourself
out of the profits of the scheme ....
ER. (_Gives money to Ormin_). Gladly. (_Alone_). Would to
Heaven, that at such a price I could get rid of all who trouble me! How
ill-timed their visit is! At last I think I may go. Will any one else
come to detain me?
SCENE IV.--FILINTE, ÉRASTE.
FIL. Marquis, I have just heard strange tidings.
ER. What?
FIL. That some one has just now quarrelled with you.
ER. With me?
FIL. What is the use of dissimulation? I know on good authority that you
have been called out; and, as your friend, I come, at all events, to
offer you my services against all mankind.
ER. I am obliged to you; but believe me you do me....
FIL. You will not admit it; but you are going out without attendants.
Stay in town, or go into the country, you shall go nowhere without my
accompanying you.
ER. (_Aside_). Oh, I shall go mad.
FIL. Where is the use of hiding from me?
ER. I swear to you, Marquis, that you have been deceived.
FIL. It is no use denying it.
ER. May Heaven smite me, if any dispute....
FIL. Do you think I believe you?
ER. Good Heaven, I tell you without concealment that....
FIL. Do not think me such a dupe and simpleton.
ER. Will you oblige me?
FIL. No.
ER. Leave me, I pray.
FIL. Nothing of the sort, Marquis.
ER. An assignation to-night at a certain place....
FIL. I do not quit you. Wherever it be, I mean to follow you.
ER. On my soul, since you mean me to have a quarrel, I agree to it, to
satisfy your zeal. I shall be with you, who put me in a rage, and of
whom I cannot get rid by fair means.
FIL. That is a sorry way of receiving the service of a friend. But as I
do you so ill an office, farewell. Finish what you have on hand without
me.
ER. You will be my friend when you leave me. (_Alone_). But see
what misfortunes happen to me! They will have made me miss the hour
appointed.
SCENE V.--DAMIS, L'ÉPINE, ÉRASTE, LA RIVIÈRE, _and his Companions_.
DAM. (_Aside_). What! the rascal hopes to obtain her in spite of
me! Ah! my just wrath shall know how to prevent him!
ER. (_Aside_). I see some one there at Orphise's door. What! must
there always be some obstacle to the passion she sanctions!
DAM. (_To L'Epine_). Yes, I have discovered that my niece, in spite
of my care, is to receive Éraste in her room to-night, alone.
LA R. (_To his companions_). What do I hear those people saying of
our master? Let us approach safely, without betraying ourselves.
DAM. (_To L'Epine_). But before he has a chance of accomplishing
his design, we must pierce his treacherous heart with a thousand blows.
Go and fetch those whom I mentioned just now, and place them in ambush
where I told you, so that at the name of Éraste they may be ready to
avenge my honour, which his passion has the presumption to outrage; to
break off the assignation which brings him here, and quench his guilty
flame in his blood.
LA R. (_Attacking Damis with his companions_). Before your fury can
destroy him, wretch! you shall have to deal with us!
ER. Though he would have killed me, honour urges me here to rescue the
uncle of my mistress. (_To Damis_). I am on your side, Sir. (_He
draws his sword and attacks La Rivière and his companions, whom he puts
to flight_.)
DAM. Heavens! By whose aid do I find myself saved from a certain death?
To whom am I indebted for so rare a service?
ER. (_Returning_). In serving you, I have done but an act of
justice.
DAM. Heavens. Can I believe my ears! Is this the hand of Éraste?
ER. Yes, yes, Sir, it is I. Too happy that my hand has rescued you: too
unhappy in having deserved your hatred.
DAM. What! Éraste, whom I was resolved to have assassinated has just
used his sword to defend me! Oh, this is too much; my heart is compelled
to yield; whatever your love may have meditated to-night, this
remarkable display of generosity ought to stifle all animosity. I blush
for my crime, and blame my prejudice. My hatred has too long done you
injustice! To show you openly I no longer entertain it, I unite you this
very night to your love.
SCENE VI.--ORPHISE, DAMIS, ÉRASTE.
ORPH. (_Entering with a silver candlestick in her hand_). Sir, what
has happened that such a terrible disturbance....
DAM. Niece, nothing but what is very agreeable, since, after having
blamed, for a long time, your love for Éraste, I now give him to you for
a husband. His arm has warded off the deadly thrust aimed at me; I
desire that your hand reward him.
ORPH. I owe everything to you; if, therefore, it is to pay him your
debt. I consent, as he has saved your life.
ER. My heart is so overwhelmed by this great miracle, that amidst this
ecstasy, I doubt if I am awake.
DAM. Let us celebrate the happy lot that awaits you; and let our violins
put us in a joyful mood. (_As the violins strike up, there is a knock
at the door_).
ER. Who knocks so loud?
SCENE VII.--DAMIS, ORPHISE, ÉRASTE, L'ÉPINE.
L'EP. Sir, here are masks, with kits and tabors.
(_The masks enter, filling the stage_).
ER. What! Bores for ever? Hulloa, guards, here. Turn out these rascals
for me.
BALLET TO ACT III.
_First Entry_.
Swiss guards, with halberds, drive out all the troublesome masks, and
then retire to make room for a dance of
[Footnote: The origin of the introduction of the Swiss Guards
(mercenaries) in the service of the French and other foreign powers may
be ascribed to the fact that Switzerland itself, being too poor to
maintain soldiers in time of peace, allowed them to serve other nations
on condition of coming back immediately to their own cantons in time of
war or invasion.
It is particularly with France that Switzerland contracted treaties to
furnish certain contingents in case of need. The first of these dates
back as far as 1444 between the Dauphin, afterwards Charles VII., and
the different cantons. This Act was renewed in 1453, and the number of
soldiers to be furnished was fixed once for all, the minimum being
6,000, and the maximum 16,000. The Helvetians, who until 1515 had always
been faithful to their engagements, turned traitors in that year against
Francis I., who defeated them at Marignan. But the good feeling was soon
afterwards re-established, and a new treaty, almost similar to the
former, restored the harmony between the two nations.
Another document is extant, signed at Baden in 1553, by which the
cantons bind themselves to furnish Henry II. with as many troops as he
may want. It is particularly remarkable, inasmuch as it served as a
basis for all subsequent ones until 1671. These conventions have not
always been faithfully carried out, for the Swiss contracted engagements
with other nations, notably with Spain, Naples, and Sardinia, and even
with Portugal. At the commencement of the campaign of 1697, Louis XIV.
had, notwithstanding all this, as many as 32,000 Swiss in his service,
the highest number ever attained. The regulations for the foreign
colonels and captains in their relations among themselves, and with the
French Government, were not unlike those in force at present for the
native soldiery in our Indian possessions. Towards the end of Louis
XIV.'s reign the number decreased to 14,400, officers included; it rose
in 1773 to 19,836, and during the wars of 1742-48. to 21,300. The ebb
and flow of their numbers continued from that time until the Revolution
of 1830, when they were finally abolished.
They received a much higher pay than the national troops, and had
besides this many other advantages, one of them being that the officers
had in the army the next grade higher than that which they occupied in
their own regiments; for instance, the colonel of a Swiss regiment had
the rank of a major-general, and retired on the pay of a
lieutenant-general, &c. They enjoyed the same privileges, with some
slight modifications, wherever they served elsewhere.]
_Second Entry_.
Four shepherds and a shepherdess, who, in the opinion of all who saw it,
concluded the entertainment with much grace.