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Molière: The Miser (L’Avare)
Translated by Tim Gooding
© 11 June 2004
First performed at the Palais-Royal, Paris, on 9 September 1668, by ‘The King’s Players’ (la Troupe du Roi).
The Characters
(Grouped for a cast of ten)
1. HARPAGON Father of Cléante and Élise, suitor to Mariane.
2. CLÉANTE Harpagon’s son. In love with Mariane.
3 ÉLISE Harpagon’s daughter. In love with Valère.
4. VALÈRE Anselme’s son. In love with Élise.
5. FROSINE Intriguer and go-between
2. CLÉANTE Harpagon’s son. In love with Mariane.
3 ÉLISE Harpagon’s daughter. In love with Valère.
4. VALÈRE Anselme’s son. In love with Élise.
5. FROSINE Intriguer and go-between
6. MAÎTRE JACQUES Cook and coachman to Harpagon.
7. MARIANE In love with Cléante. Harpagon’s intended.
DAME CLAUDE Harpagon’s maidservant
DAME CLAUDE Harpagon’s maidservant
8. ANSELME Father of Valère and Mariane.
MAÎTRE SIMON A Broker
BRINDAVOINE Harpagon’s footman
9. LA FLÈCHE Cléante’s valet
10. LA MERLUCHE Harpagon’s footman
POLICE OFFICER
POLICE OFFICER
POLICE CLERK
(POLICE OFFICER/POLICE CLERK are merged into a single character.)
ACT I
Scene I
(VALÈRE, ÉLISE)
VALÈRE: What is this? Sweet Élise, do I see you sad? After so tenderly promising me your love? I see you sigh? And at the height of my happiness! Do you regret making me happy? Tell me. Has my passion compelled you to a vow of marriage you now regret?
VALÈRE: What is this? Sweet Élise, do I see you sad? After so tenderly promising me your love? I see you sigh? And at the height of my happiness! Do you regret making me happy? Tell me. Has my passion compelled you to a vow of marriage you now regret?
ÉLISE: No, Valère, I cannot regret anything I do for you. I’m swept along by too sweet a power, and lack the strength even to wish things were different. But to be honest, I find this effect..unnerving. I’m terribly afraid I love you a little more than I should.
VALÈRE: Hé? What is there to fear in loving me, Elise?
ÉLISE: A hundred things, and all at once: my father’s fury, my family’s disapproval, the ticking of tongues in town.. But more than anything, a change of heart in you, Valère, and the cruel coldness of men which usually rewards the innocent girl who declares her love too passionately.
VALÈRE: Ah! You wrong me to judge me by other men. Suspect me of anything but losing respect for you, Elise. I adore you too much, and my love for you will last as long as I live.
ÉLISE: Ah! You all say the same thing, Valère. Men are all the same when they give their word. They reveal their differences only through their deeds.
VALÈRE: Since we are only to be known by our deeds, at least wait to judge my love by mine. Do not seek my faults in your own baseless fears and unfortunate forebodings. Please, do not destroy my happiness with the grievous wounding of unjust suspicion, only give me time and I will convince you, a thousand thousandfold, that my heart is true.
ÉLISE: How easily we’re persuaded by those we love! Valère, I know your heart is incapable of taking advantage of me. I know your love is faithful, and true; I have no desire at all to doubt you, it is just that I am wary of the disapproval of others.
VALÈRE: Why is that a worry?
ÉLISE: I would have nothing to fear if everyone saw you through my eyes, for what I see explains every little thing I do for you. Your virtue is my heart’s defence, fortified by gratitude in knowing that Heaven itself guided me to you. How can I ever forget the shocking peril which first threw us together?; the amazing selflessness in risking your life to pluck me from the raging sea; the overflowing tenderness on lifting me from the water; the ceaseless tributes of a burning love which neither time nor adversity has diminished, and which has led you to forsake your parents and your country, stop in this place, disguise your true rank and lower yourself to take employment as my father’s servant! Just to be near me! Oh, this is all wonderful, absolutely, to me, and fully justifies my promise to you, but it may not be enough for others. I’m not so sure they will share my feelings.
VALÈRE: Of all you have said, it is by my love alone I dare believe I am worthy of you. As to your misgivings, what more could your father possibly do to vindicate you? His overweening greed, the parsimonious regime he inflicts on his children, would excuse far stranger things. Sweet Elise, forgive me for speaking like this. But as you are aware, on this subject there is nothing pleasant to be said. In the end, should I succeed in locating my parents once more, as I hope, we will have little trouble gaining his consent. I am tired of waiting for news: if word does not arrive soon, I will go and search for them myself.
ÉLISE: No! Stay here with me, Valère, please. Concentrate on getting in father’s good books.
VALÈRE: Surely you see how I have already taken to the task? The masterly fawning I have employed to insinuate myself into his service? The mask of sympathy and nodding compliance I wear to please him? The groveling role I play, constantly, to gain his approval? I am making splendid progress. I find there is no better way to win people over than to completely agree with them, embrace their principles, ladle praise on their shortcomings, and applaud everything they do. And have no fear: one cannot overdo servility. One can humour people quite openly: the shrewder they are, the more susceptible to flattery, always; nothing is so unreasonable or so ludicrous it cannot be swallowed if sufficiently seasoned with praise. One’s integrity is a trifle diminished by this method, but if one wants something from someone, an accommodation to them is necessary. Further, since this is the only way to win people over, then the fault lies not with the flatterer, but with the flattered.
ÉLISE: Why don’t you try to win my brother over as well, in case the maid takes it upon herself to betray us?
VALÈRE: I can’t humour father and son at the same time. It is nigh impossible to juggle such opposing confidences simultaneously. But you, on the other hand, you may influence your brother and use the affection between you to persuade him to our side. Here he comes. I will go. Do speak to him, but reveal only as much as you think wise.
ÉLISE: I’m not sure I can bring myself to confide in him at all.
Scene II
(CLÉANTE, ÉLISE)
(CLÉANTE, ÉLISE)
(Enter CLÉANTE)
CLÉANTE: Dear sister. I am thrilled to find you alone. I have been dying to speak to you and share my secret.
ÉLISE: Here I am, all ears, dear brother. What do you want to tell me?
CLÉANTE: So many things, my sister, all wrapped in a single word: I am in love.
ÉLISE: You are in love?
CLÉANTE: Yes, I am in love. Before I continue, however, let me first say that I totally understand how I am beholden to my father; that as his son, I am subordinate to his will; that we should never contract to marry without the blessing of those who gave us life itself; that Heaven made them master of our nuptial destiny; that it is incumbent on us to allow them to decide on whom we may bestow our affection, because they, being more alert to the sway of foolish infatuation, are less likely to be deceived than we, and better placed to see what is for our own good; that we must trust in the light of their judgement rather than the blindness of our own passion; and that the fires of youth most often burn out in the abysses of regret. I say all of this, dear sister, to spare you the pain of saying it. For in the end, my heart has no intention of listening, and accordingly I ask you, please, to refrain from admonition.
ÉLISE: You’ve given your promise of marriage to this love of yours, dear brother?
CLÉANTE: No, but I have made up my mind to do so. And I entreat you, again, do not bring up the reasons why I should not.
ÉLISE: Am I so awful a person, dear brother?
CLÉANTE: No, dear sister. But you are not in love. You are ignorant of the sweet violence a tender love inflicts upon the hearts of we who are in love. And I am wary of your common sense.
ÉLISE: Ha! Dear brother, don’t speak to me about common sense. Everyone lacks it at least once in their life. If I opened my heart to you, you might just see I have even less sense than you.
CLÉANTE: Ah! Would to God your heart was like mine..
ÉLISE: Let’s deal with you first. So, tell me, who is she?
CLÉANTE: She is young, and new to these parts, and seems created to inspire love in all who see her. Sweet sister, Nature has fashioned nothing more adorable. I was swept away the instant I saw her. Mariane. Her name is Mariane. She lives with her elderly invalid mother, to whom this divine girl is unimaginably devoted. She nurses her, solaces her, cares for her with a tenderness that touches the soul. She brings the most enchanting poise to everything she does and a thousandfold Graces sparkle in her every movement. A sweetness so magnetic, a kindness so captivating, an openness so adorable, a..if only you could have seen her, dear sister!
ÉLISE: I see her in the picture you paint. That you love her is enough to tell me what she is like.
CLÉANTE: I have learned, discreetly, that they are not well situated. Despite living modestly, they find difficulty in making ends meet. Sister, picture the joy in restoring the fortunes of the one you love! In contributing – discreetly – to the humble needs of a virtuous family! Then imagine my anguish as I see that, because of father’s greed, I can never taste such happiness, nor utter single word of love to this beautiful creature.
ÉLISE: Yes, I can well imagine your anguish.
CLÉANTE: Oh, sister, it is worse than you can imagine. Can anyone anywhere imagine anything more cruel than the Spartan economy he imposes on us, the reign of unnatural stinginess under which he compels us to languish? What is the point of coming into money when we are too old to enjoy it? While in the meantime I have to borrow here, there, and everywhere just to support myself? And constantly lower myself, as must you, to seeking the assistance of shopkeepers in order to clothe myself in a decent manner. Anyway. I wanted to ask your help in sounding out father on where I stand. If he opposes my desires, I am resolved to elope with my beloved, to wherever, where we will enjoy whatever fate Heaven allows. With this in mind, I am looking to borrow anywhere and everywhere. And if your situation is similar, and father opposes your wishes also, let us abandon him together and break the tyrannous chains of intolerable greed which have bound us for so long.
ÉLISE: He does daily give us new reasons to regret the death of our mother, that is true..
CLÉANTE: (Hearing HARPAGON’S voice) That’s his voice. Let us continue this discussion elsewhere. After which we join forces and launch attack on his heart of stone..
(ÉLISE and CLÉANTE exit.)
Scene III
(HARPAGON, LA FLÈCHE)
(HARPAGON, LA FLÈCHE)
(HARPAGON and LA FLÈCHE enter.)
HARPAGON: I want you out of here, right this minute, so save the smart replies. Out you go, out of my house, you prince of thieves, you gallows bird supreme!
LA FLÈCHE: (aside) I’ve never seen such a poisonous old.. piece of work. If you ask me, he’s possessed by Satan, with all due respect.
HARPAGON: What is that you are muttering?
LA FLÈCHE: Why are you kicking me out?
HARPAGON: Oh, how marvellous, the man most likely to hang asks me for my reasons. Get out before I knock you out.
LA FLÈCHE: What have I done to you?
HARPAGON: Enough for me to want you out of here.
LA FLÈCHE: My master, your son, he ordered me to wait.
HARPAGON: Go and wait for him out in the street instead of planting yourself inside my house like a lamppost, watching everything that goes on, angling for your cut. I don’t want a spy peering over my shoulder all the time, a nefarious little rat with his sinister eyes always ogling my affairs, constantly covetting my possessions, forever ferreting about for whatever he can steal.
LA FLÈCHE: How the devil could anyone steal from you? You’re unstealable-fromable! You double-padlock everything and stand guard day and night!
HARPAGON: I lock whatever I want, and stand guard whenever and wherever I please. Do not tell me informers are not taking note of everything I do. (Aside) I fear he has wind of my money. (to LA FLÈCHE) You are the type who runs round spreading stories I have money hidden in the house, are you not?
LA FLÈCHE: Have you? Got money hidden?
HARPAGON: No, you degenerate, I did not say that. (Aside) This drives me insane. (to LA FLÈCHE) I am simply requesting you not go round spreading malicious rumours that I have.
LA FLÈCHE: Ha! Who cares if you have or you haven’t? We don’t see it either way.
HARPAGON: Quibble with me, would you? I will give you a good quibble about the ears!
(He raises his hand to hit LA FLÈCHE)
HARPAGON: For the last time, will you get out of here!
LA FLÈCHE: Fine, then. I’m off.
LA FLÈCHE: Fine, then. I’m off.
HARPAGON: Hold it! You’re not taking anything of mine with you?
LA FLÈCHE: Like what?
HARPAGON: Come here so I may see. Show me your hands.
LA FLÈCHE: There they are.
HARPAGON: And the others.
LA FLÈCHE: The others?
HARPAGON: Yes.
LA FLÈCHE: There they are.
(HARPAGON points to LA FLÈCHE’S voluminous culottes.)
HARPAGON: What about in there?
LA FLÈCHE: See for yourself.
(HARPAGON checks inside the bottom of the trousers.)
HARPAGON: This style of culotte is perfect for receiving stolen goods. Whoever makes them should be strung up.
LA FLÈCHE: (Aside) Just begging to get what they’re afraid of, aren’t they, his sort? It’d tickle me pink to give him his robbery.
HARPAGON: Eh?
LA FLÈCHE: What?
HARPAGON: Did you say something about a robbery?
LA FLÈCHE: I said: have a good rummage. Make sure I haven’t robbed you.
HARPAGON: That is what I am doing.
(He searches LA FLÈCHE’s pockets.)
LA FLÈCHE: A plague on stinges and their stinginess!
HARPAGON: What? What are you saying?
LA FLÈCHE: What? What am I saying?
HARPAGON: Yes. About stinges and stinginess. What are you saying?
LA FLÈCHE: I am saying: a plague on stinges and their stinginess.
HARPAGON: Referring to whom?
LA FLÈCHE: To stinges.
HARPAGON: And who might they be, these stinges?
LA FLÈCHE: Assorted skinflints. Various tightwads.
HARPAGON: But who is it you are alluding to?
LA FLÈCHE: Why’s that a worry to you?
HARPAGON: I worry about what I need to worry about.
LA FLÈCHE: You think I was speaking about you.
HARPAGON: I think what I am thinking. I want you to tell me who you were talking to, when you said it.
LA FLÈCHE: I am talking to my hat.
HARPAGON: And I could well be chatting with your beret. You are asking for a slap across the face.
LA FLÈCHE: Are you forbidding me to curse misers?
HARPAGON: No, I am forbidding you to prattle on and show insolence. So shut up.
LA FLÈCHE: I didn’t name names.
HARPAGON: Open your mouth one more time and I will thrash you.
LA FLÈCHE: But if the cap fits..
(If your nose runs, blow it!)
HARPAGON: Will you be quiet?
LA FLÈCHE: Yes. In spite of my better judgement.
HARPAGON: Ha, ha!
LA FLÈCHE: Hold on. Found another pocket.
(He turns out a vest pocket.)
LA FLÈCHE: Happy now?
HARPAGON: Come on, do not make me frisk you, hand it over.
LA FLÈCHE: What?
HARPAGON: Whatever it is you have taken.
LA FLÈCHE: I haven’t taken anything.
HARPAGON: Are you sure about that?
LA FLÈCHE: Positive.
HARPAGON: Goodbye, then. Off to hell with you.
LA FLÈCHE: Nice farewell, that is.
HARPAGON: I leave you to your conscience.
(Exit LA FLÈCHE.)
HARPAGON: That villain of a valet causes me considerable anxiety. I cannot stand the sight of the dirty limping dog.
Scene IV
(HARPAGON)
HARPAGON: Keeping a large amount of cash around the house is terribly worrying, to be sure; blessed is he who invests soundly and retains only a bare minimum for expenses. I am hard-pressed to find a single secure hiding place anywhere on the premises, as, in my view, safes are unreliable and I can never bring myself to trust them. What are they but a tasty morsel for thieves, and the first thing they head for?
(HARPAGON)
HARPAGON: Keeping a large amount of cash around the house is terribly worrying, to be sure; blessed is he who invests soundly and retains only a bare minimum for expenses. I am hard-pressed to find a single secure hiding place anywhere on the premises, as, in my view, safes are unreliable and I can never bring myself to trust them. What are they but a tasty morsel for thieves, and the first thing they head for?
Scene V
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE)
HARPAGON: (Thinking he is alone.) On the other hand, was it such inspiration to bury in the garden the ten thousand gold Louis’ I received yesterday? Ten thousand Louis’ in cash is a tidy sum to have around –
(CLÉANTE and ÉLISE come into sight, talking low.)
HARPAGON: God in Heaven! I have dug my own grave. Passion got the better of me and I was debating myself out loud. What is it?
CLÉANTE: Nothing, father.
HARPAGON: How long have you been here?
ÉLISE: We just arrived.
HARPAGON: You heard, did you?
CLÉANTE: Heard what, father?
HARPAGON: That.
ÉLISE: What?
HARPAGON: What I was saying.
CLÉANTE: No.
HARPAGON: Yes, you did. I know you did.
ÉLISE: Excuse me?
HARPAGON: I can tell you heard several words. What I was actually conversing with myself about was, how impossible it is to get hold of money these days, and how only a very, very lucky man could have ten thousand gold Louis’ on him.
CLÉANTE: We hesitated to approach, for fear we were interrupting.
HARPAGON: I am delighted to have the chance to explain, just in case you got things completely the wrong way round, and thought I said that I had ten thousand gold Louis’.
CLÉANTE: Your business is none of our business.
HARPAGON: Would to God I had ten thousand gold Louis’!
CLÉANTE: I don’t think –
HARPAGON: What a stroke of fortune that would be!
ÉLISE: Such things –
HARPAGON: I could certainly do with it.
CLÉANTE: I think –
HARPAGON: That would do me nicely, that would.
ÉLISE: You’re –
HARPAGON: Then I would have no need to bemoan our wretched circumstances so much, as I do now.
CLÉANTE: Good God, father! You have nothing to complain about. It’s common knowledge you have more than enough to get by.
HARPAGON: What? Me, have enough? Anyone who says that is a liar. Nothing is further from the truth. And people who run round spreading stories like that are nothing but troublemakers.
ÉLISE: Don’t get yourself overwrought.
HARPAGON: How unnatural is it, when my own children turn on me and become my enemies!?
CLÉANTE: Saying you’ve done well for yourself makes me your enemy?
HARPAGON: Yes. Talk like that – combined with all your extravagances - will one day cause someone to come round here and slit my throat, in the belief that I am fabulously wealthy.
CLÉANTE: What do you mean, my extravagances?
HARPAGON: What do I mean? Is anything more scandalous than the opulent wardrobe in which you parade yourself around town? I had to reprimand your sister yesterday, but this is far worse! Am I being punished for something? This – whatever it is you call what you are wearing - would be a year’s rent to some. I have told you over and over, my son, your conduct does not impress me one iota: this feverish aping of the aristocracy, this promenading round in lavish getup, can only mean one thing: you are stealing from me.
CLÉANTE: Eh? I am stealing from you? How?
HARPAGON: How do I know? Where do you obtain the wherewithal to support your..style of deportment?
CLÉANTE: I play cards. And as I am extremely lucky, I clothe myself with my winnings.
HARPAGON: Wrong. Wrong! That is completely the wrong thing to do! The successful gambler maximizes his earnings by investing his winnings at high interest for the long-term future. I would also like to know, apart from anything else, what is the point of all the ribbons draping you from head to foot, and would not half a dozen pins serve to suspend your britches? Where is the need to spend good money on a wig when you can wear your own hair for free? I am willing to wager that all your wigs and your ribbons cost twenty Louis’, at least, and twenty Louis’ invested at only 8.33% will earn interest of two gold pistoles, one écu, eighteen livres, six sols, and eight deniers, per annum.
CLÉANTE: You are quite right.
HARPAGON: Then let us move on to other business - eh?
(He sees CLÉANTE and ÉLISE gesturing to each other.)
HARPAGON: (Aside) I think they are signalling each other to steal my purse. (to CLÉANTE) The signalling. What is that all about?
ÉLISE: We’re haggling over who speaks first. We both have something to talk to you about.
HARPAGON: I have something to say to both of you as well.
CLÉANTE: We wish to talk to you about marriage, father.
HARPAGON: Ah. I want to raise the subject of marriage with you, also.
ÉLISE: (Fearful) Ah! Father.
HARPAGON: “Ah! father?” What is it about marriage that alarms you, dear daughter, the word, or the thing itself?
CLÉANTE: Marriage may cause both of us alarm, father, depending on your understanding of it, as we fear our feelings and your choice will not be in harmony.
HARPAGON: A little patience. No need to alarm yourselves. I have the best interests of both of you at heart. Neither of you will have any cause for complaint at what I intend for you. Now, to begin at the beginning, are you familiar with a young lady named Mariane, who lives near here?
CLÉANTE: Yes, father.
HARPAGON: And you?
ÉLISE: I’ve heard talk of her.
HARPAGON: What do you think of the young lady, son?
CLÉANTE: A most delightful person.
HARPAGON: Her face?
CLÉANTE: Completely honest, and with a sparkling intelligence.
HARPAGON: Her manner? Her comportment?
CLÉANTE: Impeccable, beyond shadow of doubt.
HARPAGON: Such a young lady merits serious consideration, in your opinion?
CLÉANTE: Yes, father.
HARPAGON: She would be a desirable match?
CLÉANTE: Very desirable.
HARPAGON: With seemingly all the makings of a good housewife?
CLÉANTE: Definitely.
HARPAGON: And able to satisfy a husband?
CLÉANTE: Most assuredly.
HARPAGON: There is one small problem: I am afraid she is not accompanied by the size of dowry one could want.
CLÉANTE: Ah! Dear Papa, surely money is of no importance when it is a matter of marrying an honest woman?
HARPAGON: Excuse me, excuse me. Although there is this to be said: if the dowry is not all that one might wish, one may endeavour to make up for it by other means.
CLÉANTE: That makes sense.
HARPAGON: How it warms my heart to hear you agree with me, because her decency and sweetness have captured my heart, and as long as she comes with some cash, I have made up my mind to marry her.
CLÉANTE: Euh - ?
HARPAGON: Pardon?
HARPAGON: Pardon?
CLÉANTE: You’ve made up your mind to - what did you say?
HARPAGON: To marry Mariane.
CLÉANTE: Who? You? You yourself?
HARPAGON: Yes, me, me, me myself. What are you trying to say?
CLÉANTE: I feel dizzy all of a sudden, and have to leave the room.
HARPAGON: It will pass. Go into the kitchen and have a big glass of water. Cold water!
(CLÉANTE exits.)
Scene VI
(HARPAGON, ÉLISE)
HARPAGON: These weedy young squires do not have the vigour of chickens. So there you have it, my girl, that is what I have concluded for myself. As for your brother, I am lining up a certain widow, about whom I was approached by a party this morning. And you I am giving to Seigneur Anselme.
ÉLISE: To Seigneur Anselme?
HARPAGON: Yes. A mature gentleman, prudent, wise, not a day over fifty, and reportedly very wealthy.
ÉLISE: To Seigneur Anselme?
HARPAGON: Yes. A mature gentleman, prudent, wise, not a day over fifty, and reportedly very wealthy.
ÉLISE: (Curtseys) If you please, father, I don’t want to marry.
HARPAGON: (Returns her cursey) If you please, my sweet, my pet, I myself do want you to marry.
ÉLISE: (Curtseys) Begging your pardon, father.
HARPAGON: (Curtseys) Begging your pardon, daughter.
ÉLISE: I remain Seigneur Anselme’s very humble servant (curtseys again) but with your kind permission, I won’t marry him.
HARPAGON: I remain your very humble servant (curtseys again) but with your kind permission, you will marry him this evening.
ÉLISE: This evening?
HARPAGON: This evening.
ÉLISE: (Curtseys) I will not do it, father.
HARPAGON: (Curtseys) You will do it, daughter.
ÉLISE: No.
HARPAGON: Yes.
ÉLISE: I won’t, I tell you.
HARPAGON: You will, I tell you.
ÉLISE: You can’t force me to do it!
HARPAGON: I can force you to do it.
ÉLISE: I’ll kill myself before I marry a man like that!
HARPAGON: You will not kill yourself and you will marry him. Have you no shame? Daughters do not speak to their fathers like this!
ÉLISE: Fathers don’t marry off their daughters like this!
HARPAGON: It is a perfect match, which will meet with universal approval, and I would put money on it.
ÉLISE: And I’d put money on the disapproval of anyone with the slightest sense whatsoever.
(VALÈRE enters, at a distance.)
HARPAGON: Ah. There is Valère. What if we allow him to adjudicate between us? What do you say?
ÉLISE: I agree.
HARPAGON: You will accept his decision?
ÉLISE: I’ll abide by whatever he says.
HARPAGON: Done.
Scene VII
(VALÈRE, HARPAGON, ÉLISE)
HARPAGON: Come here, Valère. We have elected you to decide which of us, my daughter or myself, is in the right.
(VALÈRE, HARPAGON, ÉLISE)
HARPAGON: Come here, Valère. We have elected you to decide which of us, my daughter or myself, is in the right.
VALÈRE: You are, Master. Without question.
HARPAGON: Do you have any idea what we are talking about?
VALÈRE: No, but you could not be wrong, as you are always correct.
HARPAGON: I wish to give my daughter’s hand in marriage to a rich, wise man, tonight. The perverse girl tells me to my face that she finds the prospect laughable. What do you say to that?
VALÈRE: What do I say?
HARPAGON: Yes.
VALÈRE: Oh. Ah.
HARPAGON: Oh, ah, what?
VALÈRE: I think, fundamentally, I agree with you. As of course you can never be mistaken. On the other hand, she is not completely in the wrong, not -
HARPAGON: How can you say that? Seigneur Anselme is a fine catch, a gentleman, high born, kind-hearted, sober, wise, well to do, with no surviving children from his first marriage. She cannot do better.
VALÈRE: True. Although she could possibly say she feels a fraction..rushed, and might be granted a little more time to determine if her own personal inclinations can accommodate -
HARPAGON: There is no time to waste, only to seize, for I am granted here a unique, once in a lifetime opportunity: he is willing to take her without a dowry. No dowry.
VALÈRE: No dowry?
HARPAGON: Yes.
VALÈRE: Ah! Then there is nothing more to say. There you have it. The matter is settled. There is no arguing with that.
HARPAGON: It offers me a considerable saving.
VALÈRE: Assuredly and incontrovertibly. True, it may be your daughter could contend that marriage is a more serious situation than some might seem to think; that it determines whether one is happy or unhappy for the remainder of one’s life; and that a commitment until death should never be made without the greatest caution.
HARPAGON: No dowry.
VALÈRE: You are right. That’s the decisive factor. I can only agree. Of course there will always be people who will say that this is a situation wherein a father should definitely take his daughter’s feelings into account, and that such a huge difference in age, temperament, and attitude, will place a deplorable strain on the marriage.
HARPAGON: No dowry.
VALÈRE: Ah! There is no disputing that. You know it, I know it, who on earth can contradict that? Not that there would not be a few fathers with more regard for their daughter’s happiness than any sum of money they might have to part with; who would not sacrifice them for profit, but seek to find in a marriage, more than anything else, that loving unity which forever garners respect, contentment, and joy, that -
HARPAGON: No dowry.
VALÈRE: Too true. No further discussion need be entered into. There is simply no debating “No dowry”, is there?
(HARPAGON looks in the direction of the garden.)
HARPAGON: (Aside) Oh oh. I think I hear a dog barking. Is someone after my money? (To VALÈRE) Do not move. I’ll be back shortly.
(HARPAGON exits)
Scene VIII
(ÉLISE, VALÈRE)
ÉLISE: You’re not serious, are you, Valère? Saying what you said?
VALÈRE: I am humouring him in order to win him round. To clash head-on will only serve to ruin everything. Certain souls necessitate an indirect approach, for the combative, innately recalcitrant temper, which rears at the sight of truth and steels itself against common sense, cannot be led but only turned gently in the direction you desire it to go. Compliance with its demands must be feigned, so better to achieve the desired end.
ÉLISE: The wedding, Valère?
VALÈRE: We will seek a loophole with which to break it off.
VALÈRE: We will seek a loophole with which to break it off.
ÉLISE: Will we find this loophole before tonight?
VALÈRE: You will come down with an illness. And request a postponement.
ÉLISE: I’ll be found out when they call the doctor.
VALÈRE: You jest, surely. What do they know about anything? Go on, have an illness, have any illness you like, and they will come up with an explanation for how you came down with it.
Scene IX
(HARPAGON, ÉLISE, VALÈRE)
(HARPAGON enters.)
HARPAGON: (to himself) A false alarm, thank the Lord.
VALÈRE: Our last resort must be to elope, my beautiful Élise, if your love for me is strong enough to –
(He notices HARPAGON.)
VALÈRE: Yes, it is the duty of a daughter to obey her father. She need not concern herself with her husband’s appearance, and upon entering a situation where there is “no dowry required”, must be prepared to accept whatever is on offer.
HARPAGON: Marvellous. Very well put.
VALÈRE: Excuse me, Master, for allowing myself to be carried away a little, and taking the liberty of speaking my mind to her.
HARPAGON: What? I am delighted and want to give you a free hand with her. (to ÉLISE) Do not dream of running away. I grant him the same authority over you that Our Lord in Heaven has granted me. I know you will do whatever he says.
VALÈRE: (to ÉLISE) Now do you resist my instruction?
(ÉLISE exits.)
Scene X
(HARPAGON, VALÈRE, ÉLISE)
VALÈRE: (to HARPAGON) I will follow her and continue the lesson, Master.
HARPAGON: Do so. I am most obliged to you.
VALÈRE: She needs keeping on a tight rein.
HARPAGON: Very true. She does.
VALÈRE: Do not worry. I know how to handle her.
HARPAGON: Do. Do. I am going to take a short stroll into town. I will be back directly.
VALÈRE: (Exiting. To ÉLISE, off) Money is the most precious thing in the world, and you should give thanks to God for giving you such a decent man for a father. He knows what life is about. When a man offers to accept a girl without a dowry, why then, one need look no further. Nothing else is of any consequence, as a dowry forgone takes precedence over beauty, youth, breeding, honour, wisdom, and integrity.
HARPAGON: Ah! Good lad! Spoken like an oracle. How lucky am I to have a man like that in my service?
ACT II
Scene I
(CLÉANTE, LA FLÈCHE)
CLÉANTE: Aha! It’s you, you wretch. Where did you get to? Didn’t I give you an order?
LA FLÈCHE: Yes, Master, and I was obeying it, I was right here, resolutely waiting for you, but the Master, your father – he’s the most cantankerous old - he chased me out, under protest, and I came that close to a thrashing.
CLÉANTE: How is our little negotiation progressing? The situation becomes more urgent than ever. Since I last saw you, I have learned I have a rival in love: my father.
LA FLÈCHE: Your father? In love?
CLÉANTE: Yes. I find it extremely difficult to conceal the distress this causes me.
LA FLÈCHE: Him? Him? Getting mixed up with love? What demon jammed that notion in his skull? He’s pulling our legs, must be. Has the love been made for people constructed like him?
CLÉANTE: It is to punish me for my sins, that passion has been made to enter his head.
LA FLÈCHE: So why keep your love a secret from him?
CLÉANTE: To arouse less suspicion and be better positioned to derail the marriage. Have you had a response?
LA FLÈCHE: Well, Master. A borrower’s in an unfortunate position, and has to put up with some..peculiar things when he’s reduced to delivering himself into the hands of money lenders. As you are.
CLÉANTE: We are not making progress?
LA FLÈCHE: I didn’t say that. Maître Simon, he’s our go-between – a very keen, hard-working fellow – he says he’s done the impossible for you. He assures me he’s become quite attached to your particular predicament.
CLÉANTE: I will get the fifteen thousand?
LA FLÈCHE: Yes. There are a few fiddley little conditions you’ll have to go along with to seal the deal.
CLÉANTE: Has he introduced you to the lender?
LA FLÈCHE: Ah. That’s not how it’s done. He wants to keep his identity quiet even more than you do. These things are more complicated than you think. They won’t give his name, but they’ve organized for you to meet him today, in a purpose-rented house, so he can get the details of your assets and your family from the horse’s mouth. I’m sure you’ll only have to mention your father’s name and everything will go fine.
CLÉANTE: Especially as Mother is dead and no-one can stop me inheriting her money.
LA FLÈCHE: Here are the conditions he himself dictated to our intermediary, as he wants you to look them over before proceeding. “Provided: that The Lender is satisfied as to the securities; and that The Borrower is of age, of a family of sufficient means, secure, fully insured, and free and clear of all and any encumbrance; a proper and precise instrument shall be executed before a notary of utmost integrity, who, to this end, shall be nominated by The Lender, in acknowledgement that he holds the superior interest in the contract being duly enacted.”
CLÉANTE: I have nothing to add.
LA FLÈCHE: The Lender, insofar as his conscience may be seen
to be beyond question, offers to lend his money at a rate of interest of 5.5% per annum.
CLÉANTE: 5.5%? Yes! I agree! That seems fair. I can’t complain about that.
LA FLÈCHE: True. “But insofar as Said Lender does not himself hold the Agreed Amount, and in order to service The Borrower is thus constrained to borrow Said Agreed Amount from a Third Party at the rate of 20%, it falls upon the Aforesaid Borrower to agree to pay Said Interest of 20%, without prejudice to the Aforesaid Rate Of Interest of 5.5%, insofar as it is in consideration of his obligation to the Aforesaid Borrower that the Aforesaid Lender is obliged to undertake to borrow the Aforesaid Agreed Amount.”
CLÉANTE: Hell’s bells! What sort of shark, what sort of shyster, are we dealing with here? That’s more than 25%!
LA FLÈCHE: Exactly. That’s what I said. You better think it over.
CLÉANTE: What is there to think over? I need the money. I must agree to everything.
LA FLÈCHE: That’s what I told him.
CLÉANTE: Is there more?
LA FLÈCHE: One small condition. “Of the fifteen thousand requested, The Lender is only able to dispense twelve thousand in cash; in respect of the remaining three thousand, The Borrower agrees to accept such clothing, furniture, and jewellery as listed in the Attached Inventory, and set by Aforesaid Lender, in good faith, at the most modest price possible.
CLÉANTE: What am I meant to say?
LA FLÈCHE: Listen to the Inventory. “Item the first: one child’s four-poster bed, complete with hangings of Hungarian lace, elegantly embroidered on an olive backing, plus six matching chairs and bedspread, the whole in good condition, and lined with alternating red and blue lightweight taffeta. Plus: one canopy for a bed, of fine serge d’Aumale - that’s a small village in Normandy - in a “faded rose” colour, with tapestry border and silk fringing.”
CLÉANTE: What am I supposed to do with all that?
LA FLÈCHE: Hold on. “Plus: one tapestry curtain depicting the amorous adventures of Gombaut and Macée. Plus: one large walnut table with twelve columnar or turned pillar legs – that’s in the Louis XIII style – with extendable leaves at both ends, the whole complete with six stools which fit underneath.”
CLÉANTE: What have I got myself into? Gadzooks! Merde!
LA FLÈCHE: Patience. “Plus: three large muskets, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, plus three assorted rests. Plus: one brick furnace with twin retorts and triple intakes, most useful for those having an interest in distillery.”
CLÉANTE: I’m becoming very angry.
LA FLÈCHE: Easy. “Plus: one Bolognaise lute, complete with strings, or near enough to. Plus: one set of bowls, one draughts board, and one game of Mother Goose modeled on the Greek, the whole most suitable for passing time when one has nothing else to do. In addition: one lizard skin - possibly crocodile - three and one half feet long, stuffed with hay, an attractive feature for suspension from the ceiling of a bedroom. The Aforementioned Lot, valued in good faith at more than four thousand five hundred Louis’, is at the discretion of The Lender reduced to three thousand.”
CLÉANTE: I hope the parasite chokes on his discretion! What a bloodsucker! Have you ever heard of extortion like this? And this leech is not satisfied with charging exorbitant interest, oh no, he also expects me to buy his collection of old junk! For three thousand! I won’t get two hundred for the lot! And I have no choice but to consent to whatever the tick wants, for he has me over the barrel, with a knife at my throat.
LA FLÈCHE: Not to upset you, Master, but it looks to me like you’re on the same road to ruin as Panurge: taking cash advances; buying dear, selling cheap; and eating corn before it’s ripe.
CLÉANTE: What do you want me to do? So is youth brought low by the damnable greed of the fathers! No wonder the sons want them dead!
LA FLÈCHE: You won’t get any argument from me: your Papa would get up a saint’s nose. Now I’m not interested in getting myself strung up, praise God, and when I see my colleagues mixing in certain types of dealings, I know to back off and unmix myself from practices which have a whiff of the stepladder about them, but, truth be told, with the way he goes on, he’d give me every temptation to rob him blind, and think I deserved a medal for doing it.
CLÉANTE: Give me another look at the inventory.
Scene II
(MAÎTRE SIMON, HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, LA FLÈCHE)
(MAÎTRE SIMON, HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, LA FLÈCHE)
(MAÎTRE SIMON and HARPAGON enter, upstage)
MAÎTRE SIMON: Oh yes, sir, the young man needs money, urgently. He’s under pressure, and will agree to any conditions you care to impose.
HARPAGON: You are absolutely certain there is no risk, Maître Simon? You know the name, the financial position, the family of the party you act for?
MAÎTRE SIMON: No, I’m not really able to brief you in depth, as he was only directed to me by chance. But he’ll clarify everything for you himself. His representative assures me you’ll be satisfied once you meet him. What I can tell you is that the family is very wealthy, the mother already dead, and the father guaranteed to die within eight months, if you so require.
HARPAGON: That seems acceptable. It is our charitable duty to please others whenever we are able, Maître Simon.
MAÎTRE SIMON: Of course.
LA FLÈCHE: (whispers, to CLÉANTE) What’s this all about? Our Maître Simon speaking to your father.
CLÉANTE: (whispers to LA FLÈCHE) Someone has told him who I am. Betray me, would you?
(The four meet.)
MAÎTRE SIMON: Ah! Ah! You are keen! Who told you the meeting was here? (to HARPAGON) It wasn’t me who gave them your name and address, sir. Still, no harm done, I think. We’re all persons of discretion. You can discuss the arrangement between you here.
HARPAGON: Eh?
MAÎTRE SIMON: Sir is the party of whom I spoke, sir, who wishes to borrow the fifteen thousand Louis’ from you.
HARPAGON: You, you worm!? You would sink this low, would you?
CLÉANTE: You, Father!? You would stoop to this shameful transaction, would you?
(MAÎTRE SIMON exits. LA FLÈCHE hides.)
Scene III
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, LA FLÈCHE)
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, LA FLÈCHE)
HARPAGON: So you are the one who wants to ruin himself with such reprehensible borrowing?
CLÉANTE: So you are the one who seeks to enrich himself by criminal usury?
HARPAGON: How will you dare to face me after this ?
CLÉANTE: How will you dare face anyone at all?
HARPAGON: Are you not ashamed to fall into this debauchery? To plunge into such appalling expense? To disgracefully squander the fortune your parents worked so hard to make for you?
CLÉANTE: Surely you blush to besmirch your good name with commerce like this? To sacrifice respect and reputation to the insatiable lust for gold? To eclipse the most heinous interest rate ever devised by the most infamous of usurers?
HARPAGON: Out of my sight, you profligate pup! Get out of my sight.
CLÉANTE: Tell me who is more criminal? He who buys money he needs, or he who extorts money he doesn’t?
HARPAGON: Go, I tell you, before my blood boils over!
(CLÉANTE exits.)
HARPAGON: I am not sorry it has come to this. It is a warning to keep a sharp eye, sharper than ever, on what he is up to.
Scene IV
(FROSINE, HARPAGON)
(FROSINE, HARPAGON)
(FROSINE enters.)
FROSINE: Monsieur - ?
HARPAGON: Wait on a moment. I’ll be back to talk to you. (Aside.) I think a quick inspection of my cash is timely.
(HARPAGON exits.)
Scene V
(LA FLÈCHE, FROSINE.)
(LA FLÈCHE enters. He does not see FROSINE.)
LA FLÈCHE: This is a complete joke. He must have a furniture warehouse hidden somewhere. We haven’t found a single item from the inventory in the house.
FROSINE: Hey! You, poor old La Flèche! What’re you up to round here?
LA FLÈCHE: Ah! Ah! Frosine. What’re you up to yourself?
FROSINE: What I’m up to everywhere else: acting as a go-between, making myself useful to the populace, profiting as best I can from what small talents God has granted me. You live on your wits in this world, you know, when all that heaven allows a person like me is hard graft and rat cunning.
LA FLÈCHE: Doing some business with the lord and master, are you?
FROSINE: Smoothing a little transaction, on commission, I hope.
LA FLÈCHE: Ha! From him? Ha! You’re a better man than me if you get something out of him. Money’s very expensive in this house, let me tell you.
FROSINE: There are certain services which work wonders.
LA FLÈCHE: No offence, but you don’t know my lord Harpagon. The lord Harpagon is, of all humans, the least human human, the most money-grubbing tight-fisted mortal of all the mortals that ever lived. The service hasn’t been invented that’ll make him grateful enough to open his purse. Compliment him, respect him, shower him with kindness, be as nice to him as you like, but money? Forget it. You’re in his good books? He’s your friend? Means nothing. He’s so allergic to the word “give” he won’t give you a “good morning”, but he’ll lend it to you.
FROSINE: Heavens above! I know how to handle men, I know how to pick the lock on the back door of their heart, how to tickle their fancies, find their soft spots.
LA FLÈCHE: Useless round here. Go on, you find a soft spot when it comes to his money, I defy you. Plus on top of that, he’s as cruel as Caligula. He’s more Caligula than Caligula. He wouldn’t blink for you if you were on your death bed. Not to put too fine a point, he loves money more than reputation, honour, and integrity, and the sight of a collector at the door gives him a Grand Mal. It’s a mortal wound, it’s a stab to the heart, it’s a ripping out of his gizzards, and so – he’s back and I’m off.
(LA FLÈCHE exits.)
Scene VI
(HARPAGON, FROSINE)
(HARPAGON, FROSINE)
(HARPAGON enters.)
HARPAGON: (to himself) All is as it should be. (to FROSINE) Now then, what is it, Frosine?
FROSINE: Heavens above! Aren’t you looking well! A veritable picture of health!
HARPAGON: Me?
FROSINE: I’ve never seen you looking so young and frisky.
HARPAGON: Truly?
FROSINE: Truly. You never looked younger in your life. I know twenty five year olds who look older than you.
HARPAGON: Be that as it may, I am well past sixty, Frosine.
FROSINE: You’re not! Well, what’s wrong with sixty? Sixty’s good! It’s the flower of age, when a man comes into the prime of his life.
HARPAGON: That is undoubtedly true, but being twenty years younger wouldn’t do me any harm.
FROSINE: You’re not serious. Why would you want that? You’ve got the right stuff to live to a hundred.
HARPAGON: Do you think so?
FROSINE: Absolutely. You’re showing all the signs. Hold still a moment. Oh! Look there. Between your eyes. The mark of long life.
HARPAGON: You are sure about that?
FROSINE: No doubt about it. Show me your hand. Heavens above! Look at the life line!
HARPAGON: What about it?
FROSINE: Can’t you see where the line goes?
HARPAGON: Yes! I can! What does it mean?
FROSINE: My godfather. Did I say a hundred? You’ll make a hundred and twenty!
HARPAGON: Is that possible?
FROSINE: They’ll have to beat you to death, I tell you. You’ll bury your children and your children’s children.
HARPAGON: All the better. How is our business progressing?
FROSINE: Must you ask? You know I don’t start what I can’t finish. And matchmaking just happens to be my most marvellous skill. Give me a little time, there aren’t two people in the world I can’t pair up, and I’m positive I could get the Grand Turk to marry the Venetian Republic if I put my mind to it, so there’s nothing very difficult about your little job, that’s for sure. I’ve contacted the women, I’ve talked to them about you, and I’ve told the mother how you felt intentions towards Mariane after seeing her in the street and at her window.
HARPAGON: What was her response?
FROSINE: She was delighted by your proposal. When I told her it was your fervent wish for her daughter to attend the signing of your own daughter’s marriage contract this evening, she agreed immediately and made me her chaperone.
HARPAGON: I find myself in a situation where I am unable to avoid providing Seigneur Anselme a supper, so I am happy for her to join us.
FROSINE: Very sensible. She’ll call on your daughter after dinner, go on after that to the fair – she’s desperate to go - and be back after that for supper.
HARPAGON: Very well. I will lend my carriage so they can go together.
FROSINE: That’ll suit her nicely.
HARPAGON: Now, Frosine. In your conversations with the mother, have you touched on the subject of the dowry? You have told her she must make some contribution, put in an effort, make sacrifices, on an occasion like this? To be blunt, no man marries a young girl unless she brings something with her.
FROSINE: Pardon me? This is a girl who’ll bring in twelve thousand a year.
HARPAGON: Twelve thousand a year!
FROSINE: Yes. In the first place, she’s been raised on a very strict diet: this is a girl accustomed to living on salad, milk, cheese, and apples, so she won’t be expecting a hearty table, or fancy gourmet broths, or de-husked barley, or any of the other delicacies women usually demand. And that’s no small thing: over time it could easily add up to three thousand Louis’ at least. On top of that, her tastes in other areas are also modest; she doesn’t like the fancy clothes or expensive jewellery or plush furniture that other girls her age get worked up about. That alone will be worth four thousand a year. And not only that: she absolutely detests gambling, very unusual in a woman today. I know of one right here in our quarter who lost twenty thousand playing cards. Just this year! Let’s assume only a quarter of that. Five thousand on cards a year, plus four thousand on clothes and jewellery, makes nine thousand, plus another three thousand on food..comes to twelve thousand a year, doesn’t it?
HARPAGON: Yes, and which does not sound too bad, except that these calculations are purely theoretical.
FROSINE: I beg your pardon. You’re gaining a modest appetite, a passionate love of simple dress, and the money accruing from a hatred of cardplaying, in one single marriage. What’s theoretical about that?
HARPAGON: It is a mockery to contrive a dowry out of expenses she will not incur. I do not give receipts for something I do not receive. I must have something I can hold in my hands.
FROSINE: Heavens above! You’ll get your hands on plenty. And they also told me they’ve got a huge fortune stashed in another country, so you’ll get that too.
HARPAGON: We will enquire about that. Now, there is another thing that concerns me, Frosine. The girl is young, as you know, and young people usually prefer, only want to be with, other young people. I fear she will not find a man my age attractive, leading to certain small unpleasantries, which would discomfort me.
FROSINE: Ah! Then you don’t know her! Here is yet another feature I was going to tell you about. She has a terrible aversion to young men, and only fancies old fellows.
HARPAGON: Does she?
FROSINE: Does she. If only you could’ve heard what she said. She just can’t stand the sight of a young man, yet nothing gives her more pleasure – that’s what she said – than to see a handsome, mature gentleman with an impressive beard. The older he is, the more attractive, so my advice to you is, don’t try to make yourself look younger than you are. She doesn’t fancy anyone under sixty. Only four months ago she was about to be married but left her husband-to-be at the altar after he let slip he was only fifty six and didn’t need spectacles to sign the contract.
HARPAGON: Just for that?
FROSINE: Yes. She says fifty six years is not enough to make her happy, and on top of that, she prefers the nose that wears spectacles.
HARPAGON: This is something completely new to me.
FROSINE: There’s more to it than I care to say. She has some paintings and engravings in her bedroom. Of who, or what, d’you think? The young Adonis? Cephales? Paris? Apollo? No. Fine portraits of old Saturn, King Priam, the aged Nestor, and good old father Anchise being carried on the shoulders of his son.
HARPAGON: How marvellous! Who would have thought it? Not me, certainly, and I am delighted to learn she is so inclined. Although the fact is, were I a woman, I would not find young men attractive either.
FROSINE: I completely agree. What perfectly useless specimens young men are to fall in love with. It’s beyond me how anyone could be attracted to these pretty snot-nosed dandies, these vain fresh-faced fops.
HARPAGON: I do not understand it myself. I do not know how some women fall for them.
FROSINE: They must be barking mad. To find young men desirable! Where’s their common sense? These swish little blond-wigged popinjays aren’t men. How can anyone fall for these creatures?
HARPAGON: I am forever saying that, what with their squeaky voices, their three little wispy whiskers curled up into a cat’s moustache, their sallow girly wigs, their droopy pantaloons, their studiously sloppy shirts..
FROSINE: Ha! A stylish look, when compared to a man like you! Now here we have a real man. Here we have something worth looking at. Here’s a man both built for, and dressed for, love.
HARPAGON: I am looking the part, am I?
FROSINE: I beg your pardon? You’re a highly desirable man. Your face is a work of art. Turn round, please? It doesn’t get any better. Let me see you walk. Here we have the well-proportioned figure, lithe and jaunty as you like, with not a sign of any disability.
HARPAGON: Nothing serious, thank God. A touch of bronchitis now and again, that is all.
FROSINE: That’s nothing. Your bronchitis isn’t at all offputting. There is a dignity in your cough.
HARPAGON: Tell me something. My Mariane, has she ever seen me? Perhaps noticed me in passing?
FROSINE: No. But we’ve discussed you in great detail. I’ve painted a fine picture of you, all the time stressing your good points and the advantages of marrying a man like you.
HARPAGON: You have done well, and I am grateful to you.
FROSINE: Sir, may I ask a small favour of you?
(HARPAGON becomes grim.)
FROSINE: I’m about to lose a lawsuit, all because I don’t have a small sum of money. You could help me win the case, if you were to be so kindly disposed. You simply won’t believe how excited she’ll be to see you.
(HARPAGON brightens.)
FROSINE: Oh, how delighted she’s going to be! How profoundly moving she will find your Henry IV pleated ruff. How, above all, she’ll be swept off her feet when she sees the way you hold up your pants by pinning them to your vest. It may be merely a funny little whim to you, but for her, a pinned-up lover will be a new and extraordinary experience.
HARPAGON: It overjoys me to hear you say that.
FROSINE: Truly, sir, this lawsuit has serious consequences for me.
(HARPAGON becomes grim.)
FROSINE: I’m ruined if I lose. All I need is a little help to get myself back on the rails. If you could only have witnessed her enchantment as she listened to me describe you.
(HARPAGON brightens.)
FROSINE: Her eyes sparkled in rapture as I listed your many fine qualities, and in the end, I left her quite desperate to conclude the marriage.
HARPAGON: You have made me a very happy man, Frosine, and for that I am forever in your debt, I swear it.
FROSINE: Sir, please, will you give me the small assistance I ask?
(HARPAGON becomes grim.)
FROSINE: Just to get me back on my feet. I will be eternally grateful.
HARPAGON: Goodbye. I have urgent correspondence to attend to.
FROSINE: Sir, I promise I never needed your help more than I do now.
HARPAGON: I shall order my carriage prepared for transporting you to the fair.
FROSINE: I wouldn’t trouble you if I could see any other way.
HARPAGON: I will ensure supper is served early so as not to upset your stomachs.
FROSINE: Please don’t refuse me this favour. You have no idea how happy -
HARPAGON: I have to run. Someone is calling me. Until later.
(HARPAGON exits.)
FROSINE: Go choke on the plague, tightarse! You lousy stinking dog, go to hell! The old skinflint dodged all my best shots. But I’m not done yet. There’s still the other lot, and they’ve guaranteed me a nice fat finder’s fee.
ACT III
Scene I
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, VALÈRE, DAME CLAUDE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, BRINDAVOINE, LA MERLUCHE)
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, VALÈRE, DAME CLAUDE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, BRINDAVOINE, LA MERLUCHE)
HARPAGON: Attention, if I might have all in here, now, I will issue the instructions for this evening, and assign you each your precise role. I will start with you, Dame Claude. Approach.
(DAME CLAUDE nears, holding a broom.)
HARPAGON: Good, I see you are armed and ready. You are charged with the cleaning, of everything, while taking care not to polish the furniture too hard as you will wear it out. I am also assigning you the responsibility of distributing bottles during supper, with the caveat that any loss or breakage will be deducted from your wages.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) A masterly deterrent.
HARPAGON: Off you go.
(DAME CLAUDE exits.)
Scene II
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, BRINDAVOINE, LA MERLUCHE)
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, BRINDAVOINE, LA MERLUCHE)
HARPAGON: Brindavoine and La Merluche, you I entrust with the task of rinsing glasses, and serving drinks, but only in the event that someone is thirsty, and not according to the custom of certain disreputable servants who actively encourage people to drink when they would not have dreamt of it themselves. You are to wait until they ask at least twice, and remember to top up with plenty of water.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) That’s right. Undiluted wine goes straight to the head.
LA MERLUCHE: Do we take off our aprons, Master?
HARPAGON: Yes, when you see the guests arriving, after which you will take all care not to soil your livery.
BRINDAVOINE: You do know I have a big oil stain on one side of my doublet, Master?
LA MERLUCHE: And the seat of my pants is so torn, Master, that, putting it politely, people will look up my -
HARPAGON: Settle down. (to LA MERLUCHE) You will keep your back to the wall, showing only your face, at all times.
(HARPAGON positions BRINDAVOINE’S hat in front of the stain on the doublet.)
HARPAGON: And you will position your hat in front of you, like so, while you serve.
(BRINDAVOINE and LA MERLUCHE exit.)
Scene III
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
HARPAGON: (to ÉLISE) You, my girl, you are to keep a close eye on whatever is cleared away, and see to it nothing is wasted. Which is work suitable for girls. In the meantime, you must ready yourself to welcome my beloved, who is calling to take you with her to the fair. Did you hear what I said?
ÉLISE: Yes, father.
(ÉLISE exits.)
Scene IV
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
HARPAGON: As for you, my prissy fop of a son, out of the goodness of my heart I am excusing what happened earlier, so you would do well to remove the sour look from your face in front of her.
CLÉANTE: Sour look? Me, father? What reason have I to look sour?
HARPAGON: Lord above! Everyone is well aware of the way children carry on when their fathers remarry, and how they give their stepmother the evil eye. However, if you want me to forget that little episode of yours, I strongly suggest you keep a cheerful smile on your face while offering the lady the kindest of all possible welcomes.
CLÉANTE: May I speak frankly, father? I cannot pledge delight that she is to become my stepmother, as were I to do so, I should be guilty of mendacity. However, as to making the lady kind welcome from behind a cheery expression, I am in this regard able to pledge punctilious obedience.
HARPAGON: Make sure that you do.
CLÉANTE: You will have no cause for complaint.
HARPAGON: That is most wise of you.
(CLEANTE exits.)
Scene V
(HARPAGON, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
HARPAGON: Valère, I will need your help in this. Ho there, Maître Jacques, come here, I have kept you for last.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Do you wish to speak to me your coachman, or me your cook, Master? I’m both.
HARPAGON: It is both I want.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Who do you want first?
HARPAGON: The cook.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Won’t be a minute, if you please.
(He removes his Coachman’s coat and dons his Cook’s apparel.)
HARPAGON: What sort of devilish ritual is this?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I await your command.
HARPAGON: Maître Jacques. I am obliged to provide a supper this evening.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) It’s a miracle!
HARPAGON: So tell me, you will see to it we dine well?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Yes, if you give me the money.
HARPAGON: Hell’s bells! Money! Always money! It is as if they have nothing else to say. “Money, money, money”. The only word they know is “money”. They are always talking about money. Why must they reduce everything to money?
VALÈRE: I’ve never heard a more insolent retort. As if to furnish a feast by spending a vast sum is some miraculous act! It’s the easiest thing in the world, even the most brainless fool can do it. But the man of true skill, he can furnish a feast without spending any money.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: A feast without spending any money!
VALÈRE: Yes.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Well, well, well, Mr Steward, you must let us in on your secret. Why don’t you take over as Cook? Seeing as you want to run everything round here, anyway.
HARPAGON: Silence. What do we need?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Ask Mr Steward here. He’s the one who can put on a feast without spending a bean.
HARPAGON: Hey! I want an answer from you.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: How many people?
HARPAGON: Eight to ten will dine. Therefore plan for eight. Enough for eight is plenty for ten.
VALÈRE: Of course it is.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Right then. You need four hearty meat or chicken dishes, cooked in the pot and tastily garnished, as well as five entrées. Pots: one bisque, one partridge and green cabbage, one duck with turnips, and one healthy one. Entrées: chicken fricassee, pigeon pie, veal sweetbreads, white sausage, and morel mushrooms.
HARPAGON: Are you insane? We are not feeding the whole town!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Then there’s the roasts. Served on grand platters, arranged in a pyramid: one large river-raised veal loin, three pheasants, three fattened fowls, a dozen aviary pigeons, a dozen grain-fed chickens, six young free-range rabbits, a dozen juvenile partridges, two dozen quail, three dozen ortolans -
(HARPAGON puts his hand over MAÎTRE JACQUES’ mouth.)
HARPAGON: You will eat me into the poorhouse, you decadent!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Desserts.
HARPAGON: There is more?
VALÈRE: Do you want the guests to explode? Has the Master invited people here to gorge themselves to death? Go study the precepts of good health, go inquire of the medical profession if there is anything more dangerous than eating to excess.
HARPAGON: Quite right.
VALÈRE: You must learn, Maître Jacques, you and your kind, that too much meat on a table is a shortcut to the grave; that the considerate method of caring for one’s guests is to serve Spartan fare; and that, as the old saying has it: “Eat to live, not live to eat”.
HARPAGON: Well said! Come here, I could kiss you for saying that. That is quite the most beautiful sentence I have ever heard. “Live to eat, and not eat to live”. Is that it, no? What did you say?
VALÈRE: “Eat to live, not live to eat.”
HARPAGON: Precisely.(to MAÎTRE JACQUES) Have you got that?
(to VALÈRE) Which great man said that?
VALÈRE: His name escapes me just now.
HARPAGON: Remember to write those words down for me. I want them engraved in gold over my sitting room hearth.
VALÈRE: I won’t forget. You may also entrust supper to me: I shall take care of everything.
HARPAGON: Please do.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: All the better. Less trouble for me.
HARPAGON: It is important to serve items that people do not often eat these days, and which fill them up quickly. Thick mutton stew bulked out with beans or turnips, beef pâté stuffed with chestnuts, that should do it.
VALÈRE: Leave it to me.
HARPAGON: Now, Maître Jacques, I require my carriage cleaned.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Hold on. You need to speak to the Coachman
(He puts his coat back on.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: You were saying?
HARPAGON: I require my carriage cleaned and the horses groomed for a drive to the fair.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Your horses, Master? Take my word, they’re in no condition to go anywhere. I can’t say they’re off their oats, because the poor creatures don’t get any, and I’d be exaggerating. But you keep them fasting on such slim pickings they’re nothing but shadows, just ghosts, with the appearance of horses.
HARPAGON: So they are not well then. But they do not do anything!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: So if they don’t do anything, they don’t get anything to eat, Master? Then the poor beasts would be better off working a lot, and eating a lot. It breaks my heart to see them so thin. I love my horses, and I suffer when they suffer. Every day I go without so I can feed them something. Master, it’s a hard man that doesn’t pity his fellow creatures.
HARPAGON: It is not hard work, just trotting to the fair.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: No, Master, I don’t have the heart to drive them, and I’d be ashamed to pull the whip, the state they’re in. How d’you expect them to pull a coach when they can’t even drag themselves along?
VALÈRE: I will arrange for your neighbour Le Picard to drive them, Master. We need his help in preparing the supper anyway.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Fine. I prefer they died under someone else’s hand than mine.
VALÈRE: Maître Jacques has an argumentative tongue.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Monsieur the Steward has a sticky beak.
HARPAGON: Quiet!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I can’t stand flatterers, Master. All this meddling in the bread, the wine, the wood, the salt, the candles, it’s plain as day the man is brown-nosing to curry your favour. That makes me mad, but what makes me ropeable is having to listen to what people say about you all the time, because when it comes down to it I’m fond of you, in spite of myself. I like you more than anybody, apart from my horses.
HARPAGON: Would you be so kind as to tell me what people say about me, Maître Jacques?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Yes, Master, if I could be sure it wouldn’t make you cross.
HARPAGON: It will not make me cross in any way.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Excuse me, but I’m confident you’ll be furious.
HARPAGON: Not at all. On the contrary, it will give me pleasure, for I delight in learning how I am regarded.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Since you asked, Master, I’ll tell you plainly: you are everywhere regarded with scorn; we can’t go anywhere without hundreds of insults and Harpagon jokes raining down on us; and nothing entertains the people more than splitting their sides at your expense and regaling themselves with endless stories about how tight you are. One of them says you’ve had special calendars printed with double the number of seasons and saints’ days, so you can make your household fast more. Another one tells of how you always start a quarrel with your servants at Christmas or when they’re leaving, so you’ve got a reason not to give them gifts. That one tells the story of how you served a writ on your neighbour’s cat for eating a leftover leg of mutton. This one recounts the night you were caught stealing oats from your own horses; and how your coachman – that’s the one before me - beat you up in the dark and you never said a word to anyone about it. What did you want me to say? I don’t know a single place where I won’t hear you completely rubbished. You’re the laughing stock and whipping boy of everybody, and no-one talks of you except to call you tightwad, stinge, skinflint, and miser.
(HARPAGON beats MAÎTRE JACQUES.)
HARPAGON: And you are a buffoon, a bandit, an ingrate
and an upstart!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: There you go! What did I say? But did you want to believe me? I clearly said you’d be furious if I told you the truth, I clearly said -
HARPAGON: You need to learn to keep a civil tongue in your head.
(HARPAGON exits.)
Scene VI
(MAÎTRE JACQUES, VALÈRE)
VALÈRE: It seems your honesty is not appreciated, Maître Jacques.
(MAÎTRE JACQUES, VALÈRE)
VALÈRE: It seems your honesty is not appreciated, Maître Jacques.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Gadzooks! You mind your own business, Mister Johnny-Come-Lately, Mr-I-Think-I’m-So-Important. Don’t you laugh at me, you save your sniggers for your own thrashings.
VALÈRE: Ah, my dear Maître Jacques, please, do not upset yourself.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) He’s sweet talking me. I’ll come on the hard man and if he’s dumb enough to be scared of me, I’ll belt him round a bit. (to VALÈRE) You get this into your head, Mr Laughing Boy: I’m not laughing, not me myself, am I? And you’ll be laughing out of the other side of your face if you stir me up.
(MAÎTRE JACQUES shoves VALÈRE menacingly around the room.)
VALÈRE: Hey. Go easy.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: What about go easy? What if I don’t want to go easy?
VALÈRE: For goodness sake.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: You have no respect.
VALÈRE: My dear Maître Jacques..
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Don’t bother buttering me up with your “my dear Maître Jacques”. If I find a stick, you’ll be on the end of the mother of all hidings.
VALÈRE: What did you say about a stick?
(VALÈRE in turn advances on MAÎTRE JACQUES, with menace.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I didn’t say anything.
VALÈRE: You need to understand, my foolish friend, that if anyone is to receive a thrashing, it will be you.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I understand that.
VALÈRE: Because in the grand scheme of things, you are nothing but a lowly, wretched cook.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I understand that too.
VALÈRE: Who knows nothing at all about me.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I do beg your pardon.
VALÈRE: You’d give me a thrashing, isn’t that what you said?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I was only making a joke.
VALÈRE: I do not appreciate your sense of humour, myself.
(He beats MAÎTRE JACQUES with a stick.)
VALÈRE: You need to learn what a poor comedian you are.
(VALÈRE exits.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: To hell with honesty! It’s an evil business. From this time on, I renounce it. I have no further desire to tell the truth. My Master’s my Master, so he’s got some right to beat me, but this Mr-High-And-Mighty-Steward, just give me the chance, and he’ll get his, in spades.
Scene VII
(FROSINE, MARIANE, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
(FROSINE, MARIANE, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
(MARIANE and FROSINE enter.)
FROSINE: Maître Jacques. Is your master in, d’you know?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Very much in. I know it only too well.
FROSINE: Please tell him we’re here.
(MAÎTRE JACQUES exits.)
Scene VIII
(MARIANE, FROSINE)
MARIANE: Oh, what a..strange..situation to be in, Frosine! To speak my heart, I am trembling at what lies ahead.
(MARIANE, FROSINE)
MARIANE: Oh, what a..strange..situation to be in, Frosine! To speak my heart, I am trembling at what lies ahead.
FROSINE: But why? What is there to tremble about?
MARIANE: Mercy! Need you ask? Can you not imagine the terror of a girl about to come face-to-face with the lifetime of torture to which she has been sentenced?
FROSINE: I understand Harpagon’s not the preferred torture for an enjoyable death. That young blond boy you told me about is still on your mind. I can see it in your face.
MARIANE: I do not wish to deny it, Frosine. The gracious manner in which he called on us, I swear it has touched my soul.
FROSINE: Have you found out who he is?
MARIANE: No. I have no idea who he is. I do know he has an attractive quality about him, and were the choice mine to make, I would rather have him than anyone else. He makes the husband they have chosen for me seem even more horrific.
FROSINE: Good God, girl! Yes, yes, all these young blond boys are very nice on the eye, and speak well of themselves,
but most of them are as poor as church mice. You get much better value marrying an old man with lots of money. I admit this approach doesn’t take much account of feelings, and you have to put up with a few distasteful little activities, but it’s not for long. And believe me, when he dies you’ll be well-placed to get a nicer one, who’ll make everything better.
MARIANE: Dear God, Frosine, what a peculiar business, waiting and wishing for someone to die, so that we may find happiness. Death does not always follow our plans.
FROSINE: You are joking? You marry him only on the express condition he promptly leaves you a widow. It must be stipulated in the contract. It’d be very inconsiderate of him not to die within three months. Speak of the devil.
MARIANE: Frosine. That face!
Scene IX
(HARPAGON, FROSINE, MARIANE)
(HARPAGON enters.)
HARPAGON: You won’t be offended, my sweet, if I receive you in my spectacles? I know your charms are most apparent to the naked eye, one certainly doesn’t need spectacles to appreciate them, but then again, with the aid of glass, may not one see the stars?, and you, oh let me assure you, I hold to be a star, of all stars the most beautiful star in a universe of stars. Frosine. She is not saying a word, nor it seems expressing any joy at seeing me.
FROSINE: She’s still overcome. Young girls are too shy to show their inner feelings, at first.
HARPAGON: Of course.
HARPAGON: (to MARIANE) Ah, my tiny beauty, here is my daughter come to welcome you.
Scene X
(ÉLISE, HARPAGON, MARIANE, FROSINE)
(ÉLISE, HARPAGON, MARIANE, FROSINE)
(ÉLISE enters)
MARIANE: I am late in paying my respects, Madame.
ÉLISE: You do that which I should have done first, Madame.
HARPAGON: A tall lass, isn’t she? Grew like a weed.
MARIANE: (under, to FROSINE) What a horrible man!
HARPAGON: What did my pretty one say?
FROSINE: How wonderful she finds you.
HARPAGON: You praise me too highly, my loveable little cutie.
MARIANE: (Aside) He’s an animal!
HARPAGON: How may I prove myself worthy of such affection?
MARIANE: (Aside) I can’t stand this any longer.
Scene XI
(ÉLISE, HARPAGON, MARIANE, FROSINE, CLÉANTE, BRINDAVOINE)
(ÉLISE, HARPAGON, MARIANE, FROSINE, CLÉANTE, BRINDAVOINE)
(CLÉANTE enters.)
HARPAGON: Ah! My son also comes to pay you his respects.
MARIANE: (aside, to FROSINE) Frosine! What sort of rendezvous is this? It’s him. The one I was telling you about.
FROSINE: What an amazing coincidence.
HARPAGON: I note your astonishment at finding I have such mature children, but I’ll shortly be rid of both of them.
CLÉANTE: Madame, I ask you to believe me when I say I had not at all anticipated such a meeting as this. When Father informed me of his intentions, but a short time ago, I was taken more than a little by surprise.
MARIANE: I must say the same. I share your surprise at such an unforeseen encounter. I was not prepared for such a coincidence.
CLÉANTE: In truth, Madame, my father could not have made a finer choice. The honour of meeting you is, to me, a tender joy. Having said that, I am unable to say I rejoice at the idea of you as my stepmother. The honour, I have to say, is too onerous to accept. Not to displease you, but it is a title I do not wish you to adopt. These words may seem blunt to some, but I am sure you will take them in the intended spirit, Madame; understand how repellent is this marriage to me; not dismiss the shock it sends to my own desires; and in the end allow me to say - with Father’s kind permission - that if it were up to me, this marriage would not take place.
HARPAGON: What sort of backhanded courtesy is this? What a lovely admission to make to the girl!
MARIANE: For my part, I feel very much the same way you do. If you are repelled by the thought of me as your stepmother, so am I equally repelled to think of you as my stepson. Please believe it was no intention of mine to bring you this distress. It would disturb me greatly to cause you sorrow. If it was at all in my power, I swear I would never consent to a marriage which made you unhappy.
HARPAGON: Well said. (to CLÉANTE) Foolish words warrant foolish reply. Beloved, I must apologise for the ill-manners of my son. He is young and stupid and still has no idea of the effect of his utterances on others.
MARIANE: I assure you he has said nothing at all which causes offence. On the contrary, it pleases me to hear him express his true feelings. I like it that he makes such declarations, for to speak otherwise would have diminished him in my eyes.
HARPAGON: It is exceedingly generous of you to forgive him his faults. Time will see him wiser, and you will enjoy a change in his feelings.
CLÉANTE: Never, father. Never. My emotions are immutable. I earnestly beseech Madame to believe this.
HARPAGON: How inane can he get? From bad to worse!
CLÉANTE: You would have me betray my heart?
HARPAGON: There’s more? Would you like to try a different tune?
CLÉANTE: Very well. Since you request a variation in approach, permit me, Madame, to place myself in my father’s footwear and promise I have never in all the world encountered anyone more charming, I can imagine nothing to equal the joy of pleasing you, and to be your husband is to me a fate more glorious, more blissful, than to be King Of All The World. Yes, Madame, the rapture in capture of your heart is to me the greatest prize of all and my every desire is located there. There is nothing I would not do to accomplish so precious a conquest, there exists no obstacle so insurmountable as could –
HARPAGON: Take it easy, son, please.
CLÉANTE: I am admiring the lady on your behalf.
HARPAGON: Good God! I have a tongue, I can speak for myself, I do not need a go-between. Go and fetch some chairs.
FROSINE: No. We’d do better to go to the fair right away, so we can come back earlier and have more time to get to know each other.
HARPAGON: (to BRINDAVOINE) Have the horses put on the carriage.
(BRINDAVOINE exits.)
Scene XII
(HARPAGON, ÉLISE, MARIANE, FROSINE, CLÉANTE, VALÈRE)
HARPAGON: (to MARIANE) Will you please excuse me, my beloved, for not thinking to offer you a little refreshment before you depart?
CLÉANTE: I have taken care of it, Father, and arranged for bowls of Chinese oranges, sweet lemons, and candied fruits to be served, on your account, Papa.
HARPAGON: (Under) VALÈRE!
VALÈRE: (to HARPAGON) He’s lost his mind.
VALÈRE: (to HARPAGON) He’s lost his mind.
CLÉANTE: Father is concerned it will not be sufficient, aren’t you? Will Madame please be so gracious as to pardon our inadequacy?
MARIANE: There was no need to go to such trouble for me.
CLÉANTE: Madame, have you ever seen a diamond brighter than the one on my father’s finger?
MARIANE: It does sparkle brilliantly.
(CLÉANTE takes the ring from HARPAGON and gives it to MARIANE.)
CLÉANTE: It demands to be seen at close quarters.
MARIANE: Oh, it is exquisite. It has the glow of fire.
(CLÉANTE blocks MARIANE as she tries to return the ring.)
CLÉANTE: No, no, Madame. It has found a true home in such beautiful hands. My Father makes a gift of it to you.
HARPAGON: I what - ?
CLÉANTE: You desire Madame to keep it as a token of your affection, don’t you, father?
HARPAGON: (Aside, to CLÉANTE) What are you playing at?
CLÉANTE: An excellent question! (to MARIANE) He insists I insist you accept it.
MARIANE: I can’t, really.
CLÉANTE: You don’t mean that, surely? He has absolutely no intention of taking it back.
HARPAGON (Aside) I’m getting angry!
MARIANE: It would be -
(CLÉANTE continues to prevent her returning the ring.)
CLÉANTE: No. You insult him, I tell you.
MARIANE: Please – ?
CLÉANTE: Absolutely not.
HARPAGON: (Aside) To hell with him!
(A plague on him/I hope he catches the plague!)
CLÉANTE: There, you see how your refusal humiliates him?
HARPAGON: (Under, to CLÉANTE) Miscreant!
CLÉANTE: See? You drive him to despair.
HARPAGON: (Under, to CLÉANTE, with menace.) Why do you torture me?
CLÉANTE: It is not my fault, Father. I am doing everything in my power to make her keep it. But she will not be moved.
HARPAGON: (Under, furious) Dissolute reprobate!
CLÉANTE: You are turning father against son, Madame.
HARPAGON: (Under, as before) Double-dealing dog!
CLÉANTE: You’re making him physically ill! For pity’s sake, Madame, refuse no more.
FROSINE: Heavens above! What a carry-on! Keep the ring if that’s what the gentleman wants.
MARIANE: I have no wish to upset you, so I will keep it for now. I shall return it at a more suitable time.
Scene XIII
(HARPAGON, MARIANE, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, FROSINE, BRINDAVOINE)
(HARPAGON, MARIANE, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, FROSINE, BRINDAVOINE)
(BRINDAVOINE enters.)
BRINDAVOINE: Master. There’s a man wishes to speak with you.
HARPAGON: Tell him I am busy and to come back later.
BRINDAVOINE: He says he has some money for you.
HARPAGON: Will you excuse me? I will be back shortly.
Scene XIV
(HARPAGON, MARIANE, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, FROSINE, VALÈRE, LA MERLUCHE)
(HARPAGON, MARIANE, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, FROSINE, VALÈRE, LA MERLUCHE)
(As HARPAGON exits, LA MERLUCHE enters, running. They collide. HARPAGON is knocked to the ground.)
LA MERLUCHE: Master!
HARPAGON: I am dead!
CLÉANTE: Father? Are you hurt?
HARPAGON: My creditors must have paid the little rat to break my neck!
VALÈRE: It’s not serious.
LA MERLUCHE: Forgive me, master. I thought I was doing the right thing, hurrying.
HARPAGON: What are you doing here, you half-witted assassin?
LA MERLUCHE: Two of the horses have thrown shoes.
HARPAGON: Then get them to the farrier, now.
(LA MERLUCHE exits.)
CLÉANTE: While we wait for them to be shod, allow me to do the honours on your behalf, Father, and escort Madame into the garden, where I will have the light refreshment served.
(CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, MARIANE, FROSINE exit.)
Scene XV
(HARPAGON, VALÈRE)
(HARPAGON, VALÈRE)
HARPAGON: Valère. Keep a close eye on things, I entreat you, and rescue – gently- as much produce as possible for return to the market.
VALÈRE: Consider it done.
(VALÈRE exits.)
HARPAGON: You sorry excuse for a son. You’re determined to ruin me, aren’t you?
ACT IV
Scene I
(CLÉANTE, MARIANE, ÉLISE, FROSINE)
CLÉANTE: In here, we’re much safer. There’s no-one around and we can speak freely.
ÉLISE: Madame. My brother has confided in me and told me of his love for you. I know the sorrow and distress of similar difficulties, and let me say, with great fondness, you have my complete sympathy.
MARIANE: I find solace in the support of someone like you, Madame, and I pray you retain such a generous affection, which softens the cruelty of my fate.
FROSINE: Well, aren’t you a sorry pair for not telling me all this before? I would’ve organized things differently and spared you the grief.
CLÉANTE: What could you have done? This was ever my ill-starred destiny! But what about you, my beautiful Mariane? Have you come to any decision?
MARIANE: Mercy! What power do I have to decide anything? I am in thrall to others and all that remains to me are wishes.
CLÉANTE: Can your heart find nothing to offer me other than plain wishing? No compassionate understanding? No constructive show of kindness? No remedial affection?
MARIANE: What am I meant to say? What would you do in my shoes? Advise me. Order me! I put myself completely in your hands. I know you are too decent a man to ever demand of me anything improper or immoral.
CLÉANTE: Mercy! I can’t do a thing if I am compelled to stay within the deplorable limits of rigorous honour and scrupulous propriety.
MARIANE: What do you want me to do? Even if I were able to disregard the moral standards of my sex, I still have my mother to consider. She raised me with unceasing and enduring tenderness. I doubt I could allow myself to bring her sorrow. You do something. Get close to her. Devote all your attention to winning her round. I grant you permission to say and do whatever you want, and if after that, everything still comes down to me professing my love for you, then I shall willingly declare my feelings to her.
CLÉANTE: Frosine, dear Frosine, will you assist us?
FROSINE: My godfather! Need you ask? With all my heart I will. I’m really a soft touch, you know that. The Good Lord didn’t cast my soul in bronze and when I see people so truly and deeply in love, I am more than happy to help out any little way I can. The thing here is, how?
CLÉANTE: Do have a think, please.
MARIANE: Give us some ideas.
ÉLISE: Find a clever way to undo what you’ve done.
FROSINE: It’s not that easy. (to MARIANE) Your mother isn’t completely unreasonable, so, maybe I can talk her round, persuade her to bestow her gift on the son instead of the father. (to CLÉANTE) The main problem with that is, your father is your father.
CLÉANTE: So very true.
FROSINE: I’m saying he’ll be mightily vexed when he discovers he’s been rejected, and not in any mood to agree to you marrying his bride. What has to happen is he has to refuse you, Mariane. We must find a way to make him detest you.
CLÉANTE: You’re absolutely right.
FROSINE: Yes, I am, I know. So we have the end. But what in hell is the means? Hold on. If we can get some woman, a mature woman, to be my accomplice and play the part of an upper class lady – backed up by some quickly-cobbled-together retinue – and with an outlandish title – the Marquess or Viscountess of Lower Brittany, say – I think I could convince your father that this wealthy woman, with property, and a hundred thousand in cash, has fallen madly in love with him and is so keen to be his wife she’ll hand over her fortune in the marriage contract. I think that might get his attention. (to MARIANE) I know he loves you very much, but he loves money just that tiny bit more. Once he’s taken the bait, he’ll rush to agree to whatever you want, and it won’t matter when he finally gets a closer look at our Marquess and her trimmings, and wakes up.
CLÉANTE: It’s a devilishly clever plan.
FROSINE: Leave it to me. I’ve thought of just the person - a friend – who can carry it off.
CLÉANTE: You are assured of my gratitude, Frosine, if you succeed in this. In the meantime, sweet Mariane, let us please make a start to winning over your mother. Much would already be accomplished if we could only bring this marriage undone. For your part, I implore you, make every effort you possibly can, avail yourself of the power in her affection for you, deploy without hesitation every eloquent grace, all the overpowering charm, that Heaven has made to reside in your eyes and on your lips, omit nothing, not soft word, nor sweet entreaty, nor touching caress, and you will not be refused. Of that I am sure.
MARIANE: I will do everything I can, and not forget a thing.
(CLÉANTE kisses MARIANE’s hand.)
Scene II
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, MARIANE, ÉLISE, FROSINE)
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, MARIANE, ÉLISE, FROSINE)
(HARPAGON enters.)
HARPAGON: (Aside) Aha! My son kissing the hand of his soon-to-be stepmother and his soon-to-be stepmother not protesting too much. Is there something more to this?
HARPAGON: (Aside) Aha! My son kissing the hand of his soon-to-be stepmother and his soon-to-be stepmother not protesting too much. Is there something more to this?
ÉLISE: Father’s here.
HARPAGON: The carriage is ready. You may leave whenever you like.
CLÉANTE: Since you are not going, I will drive them myself, Father.
HARPAGON: You are staying here. They will be fine on their own. I have need of you myself.
(FROSINE, MARIANE, ÉLISE exit.)
Scene III
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE)
HARPAGON: Well, then. What do you think of her? Apart from being your stepmother.
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE)
HARPAGON: Well, then. What do you think of her? Apart from being your stepmother.
CLÉANTE: What do I think of her?
HARPAGON: Yes. Of her manner, her figure, her beauty, her intelligence.
CLÉANTE: So so. (Comme çi, comme ça.)
HARPAGON: Is that all?
CLÉANTE: May I be frank? She is not at all what I expected. Her manner is downright flirtatious, her figure is unfortunate, her looks are very average, and her intelligence is as common as muck. Don’t think I’m trying to put you off, Father. As far as stepmothers go, she suits me as much as any other.
HARPAGON: So what was that you were saying to her before?
CLÉANTE: A few sweet words on your behalf, to please you.
HARPAGON: You would not be after her yourself, would you?
CLÉANTE: Me? Not in the slightest.
HARPAGON: That is a shame. It throws cold water on an idea which recently sprang to mind. Seeing her here, just now, had me reflecting on my age and what people would say about my marrying a young girl, so I resolved to call it off, and as I had asked for her hand and given my word, I was about to give her to you instead, until you made it perfectly clear how much she repels you.
CLÉANTE: Give her to me?
HARPAGON: To you.
CLÉANTE: To marry?
HARPAGON: To marry.
CLÉANTE: Listen. It is true she is not precisely my type, but to please you, father, if it was what you wanted, I could convince myself to marry her, for you.
HARPAGON: For me? I am not as unreasonable as you think. I have no desire to force you into anything you don’t want.
CLÉANTE: No, no, no. Please, I desire to force myself, out of my love for you.
HARPAGON: No, no, no. A loveless marriage is not a happy union.
CLÉANTE: Love would follow, perhaps, father. Love is frequently the fruit of marriage, that’s what they say.
HARPAGON: No. It is not worth the risk from the male standpoint, and I do not want to be responsible for any unfortunate consequences. If only you had taken a fancy to her! I would have made every arrangement for you to marry her in my place! But it was not to be. So I shall stick to my original plan and marry her myself.
CLÉANTE: Ay! Dear Papa, since that is how things are, I must unlock my heart and disclose our secret. The truth is, I am in love with her, I have been since the moment I first saw her out walking, and intended very shortly to ask permission to marry her, until the revelation of your feelings obliged me to suppress mine, as I had no wish to displease you.
HARPAGON: Have you called on her?
CLÉANTE: I have, Father.
HARPAGON: Many times?
CLÉANTE: Enough. Given the available time.
HARPAGON: You were well received?
CLÉANTE: Oh yes, extremely well, without disclosing my name, hence Mariane’s surprise at seeing me here, just now.
HARPAGON: You have told her you love her, and intend to marry her?
CLÉANTE: In no uncertain terms. I have also made initial approach to her mother.
HARPAGON: Were you favourably received?
CLÉANTE: Yes. Most favourably.
HARPAGON: Does the girl feel the same way about you?
CLÉANTE: Oh, yes. If one may judge from outward show, I believe she views me quite favourably.
HARPAGON: (Aside) It gladdens me to have cracked this little conspiracy. And in precisely the manner I intended. (to CLÉANTE) Very well, son, as you wish to know how things stand, then get it into your head, if you do not mind, that you are to drop cold this love notion of yours, stop all your chasing round after the woman I intend to marry myself, and marry the one I choose for you to marry. And right away.
CLÉANTE: Ah! Right then, father, playing games with me, are you? Right then. Since things have come to this pretty pass, then let me just say that I will never give up my love for Mariane, there is no extreme to which I will not go to prevent your winning her, and even if you do gain her mother’s consent, there are Other Avenues of Assistance I may call on.
HARPAGON: What’s that supposed to mean, you bride-thieving rake! Where do you get the gall to trespass on my turf?
CLÉANTE: It is you who trespass on mine. I was there first.
HARPAGON: I am your father, am I not? Where is the respect?
CLÉANTE: Sons need not bow to fathers in this situation. Love bows to no-one.
HARPAGON: You will be bowing well and truly after I give you a good thrashing.
CLÉANTE: Your threats mean nothing to me. Nothing!
HARPAGON: You will give up Mariane.
CLÉANTE: Absolutely not.
HARPAGON: Fetch my stick. Now!
Scene IV
(MAÎTRE JACQUES, HARPAGON, CLÉANTE)
(MAÎTRE JACQUES, HARPAGON, CLÉANTE)
(MAÎTRE JACQUES enters.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Hey, hey, hey! Gentlemen. What’s going on? What’s gotten into you two?
CLÉANTE: I’m damned if I care!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (to CLÉANTE) Ah! Easy now, sir.
HARPAGON: Did you hear how he spoke to me? The hide!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (to HARPAGON) Master. If you please.
CLÉANTE: I shall not be moved.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: What? This is your father.
HARPAGON: Let me at him.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: What? This is your son. That’s how you talk to me.
HARPAGON: Maître Jacques, I would like you yourself to be judge of this, if only to demonstrate that I am in the right.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I have no objection. (to CLÉANTE) Move back a little.
HARPAGON: I am in love with a young woman and wish to marry her, yet this delinquent worm has the effrontery to be in love with her as well, and have designs on her in spite of my orders to the contrary.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Ah! He’s in the wrong there.
HARPAGON: Surely it is monstrous for a son to position himself as his father’s rival? Should he not show proper respect and keep his nose right out of my affairs?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: You’re quite right. Let me talk to him. You stay there.
(He goes to CLÉANTE, on the opposite side of the stage.)
CLÉANTE: Oh, yes, yes, very well. If he wants to let you be the judge, I have no reason to flinch. The author of the judgement is of no importance. I am happy to submit to your wisdom also, Maître Jacques.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s a great honour.
CLÉANTE: I am enamoured of a young lady, who responds in kind, and accepts with great joy my vow of love, whereupon my father sees fit to disrupt our love and propose to her himself!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: He’s in the wrong there. Definitely.
CLÉANTE: It is a disgrace to even dream of getting married at his age, yes? Is it proper to be still thinking about love? He should leave it to young men, yes?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: You’re quite right, he’s making a fool of himself. Let me have a word or two with him.
(He returns to HARPAGON)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Very well, then. Your boy’s not as peculiar as you make out, and is starting to see reason. He says he knows he must show more respect, he admits he got carried away in the heat of the moment, and says he’s happy to do whatever you want if you’ll only treat him a little more kindly and marry him off to someone who makes him happy.
HARPAGON: Ah! In that case, tell him he may count on my complete support, Maître Jacques, and, with the exception of Mariane, I grant him freedom to marry anyone he wants.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Leave it to me.
(He goes to CLÉANTE.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Very well, then. Your father’s not as unreasonable as you think. He says it was your anger that made him angry, that it’s only the way you go about things that upsets him, and he’s happy to do whatever you want if you’ll just treat him a little more kindly, with the respect and obedience a son should show his father.
CLÉANTE: Ah! Then you may assure him, Maître Jacques, if he grants me Mariane, he will see me the most respectful of sons, now and for always. I will do any and every thing he desires.
(MAÎTRE JACQUES goes to HARPAGON.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s all sorted out. He agrees to everything.
HARPAGON: You have made the world a better place.
(MAÎTRE JACQUES goes to CLÉANTE.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s all sorted out. He’s gratified by your undertakings.
CLÉANTE: Praise the Lord!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Gentlemen. All you have to do now is talk to each other, for you are in agreement. Your quarrel was founded on a misunderstanding.
CLÉANTE: Dear, dear Maître Jacques. I am forever in your debt.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s nothing, sir.
HARPAGON: You have made me a happy man, Maître Jacques, and should be rewarded.
(He reaches into his pocket. And takes out a handkerchief.)
HARPAGON: Off you go then. I will not forget this, I promise you.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Thank you, master.
(MAÎTRE JACQUES exits.)
Scene V
(CLÉANTE, HARPAGON)
CLÉANTE: Forgive me, father, for the consternation I have caused.
(CLÉANTE, HARPAGON)
CLÉANTE: Forgive me, father, for the consternation I have caused.
HARPAGON: It is nothing.
CLÉANTE: I am sorry in the extreme. I swear it.
HARPAGON: I am happy in the extreme, myself, to see you so reasonable.
CLÉANTE: You are most generous to forgive me so quickly.
HARPAGON: It is easy to forgive your children when they remember their duty.
CLÉANTE: Oh! And you harbour no lingering resentment at my outrageous behaviour?
HARPAGON: I am bound to forgive and forget, as you respect and obey.
CLÉANTE: Dear Father. I promise I shall carry the memory of your kindness deep in my heart until the day I die.
HARPAGON: For myself, I promise you this: there is nothing I will not do for you.
CLÉANTE: Ah! Dear Papa, what more may I ask of you? You give me more than enough in giving me Mariane.
HARPAGON: Repeat?
CLÉANTE: I am saying, dear father, that you make me deliriously happy, for your kindness gives me everything I ever wanted and more in giving me Mariane.
HARPAGON: Who said anything about giving you Mariane?
CLÉANTE: You, father.
HARPAGON: Me?
CLÉANTE: Of course.
HARPAGON: What? You’re the one who promised to give her up.
CLÉANTE: Me? (Moi?) Give her up?
HARPAGON: Yes.
CLÉANTE: Never.
HARPAGON: You are not giving her up?
CLÉANTE: Quite the contrary. I have never been more determined to marry her.
HARPAGON: What? Are you starting up again, you callow deviant!?
CLÉANTE: Nothing will ever change my mind.
CLÉANTE: Nothing will ever change my mind.
HARPAGON: I will make you change it, you misbegotten rat!
CLÉANTE: You may do whatever you please.
HARPAGON: Get out of my sight for good.
CLÉANTE: With pleasure.
HARPAGON: I renounce you.
CLÉANTE: Renounce away.
HARPAGON: You are no longer my son.
CLÉANTE: So be it.
HARPAGON: I disinherit you.
CLÉANTE: If it makes you happy.
HARPAGON: I give you only my curse.
CLÉANTE: Keep your gifts.
(HARPAGON exits)
Scene VI
(LA FLÈCHE, CLÉANTE)
(LA FLÈCHE enters from the garden, carrying a cashbox.)
LA FLÈCHE: Ah! There you are, sir, just in time. Follow me. Quick!
CLÉANTE: What is it?
LA FLÈCHE: Follow me, I tell you. We’re in luck.
CLÉANTE: How - ?
LA FLÈCHE: I’ve got just what you need.
CLÉANTE: What is it?
LA FLÈCHE: Had my eye on it all day.
CLÉANTE: But what is it?
LA FLÈCHE: Your father’s stash. I’ve filched it.
CLÉANTE: How did you manage that?
LA FLÈCHE: I’ll tell you all about it. Let’s get out of here first. I can hear him howling.
(CLÉANTE and LA FLÈCHE exit.)
Scene VII
(HARPAGON shouts from the garden, then enters, without his hat.)
(HARPAGON shouts from the garden, then enters, without his hat.)
HARPAGON: Stop thief! Stop thief! Halt, assassin! Halt, murderer! Justice, oh merciful God! It is all over, I am dead, my throat has been slit, they have stolen my money! Who can have done this? Where has he gone? Where is he? Where is he hiding? How can I find him? Which way do I go? Which way don’t I go? Is he over there? Is he over here? Who is that? Halt!
(He grabs his own arm.)
HARPAGON: Give me back my money, you thieving dog! Ah! That is me. I am losing my mind. I do not know where I am or who I am or what I am doing. Ye gods! My poor dear money, my poor dear precious money, my beloved friend, they have taken you away from me. Since you’ve been gone, I’ve lost all my strength, all my comfort, all my joy. It’s all over for me, I have no further use for this world: life is impossible without you. I cannot go on, and that is a fact. I am dying, I am dead, I am buried. Is there no-one able to breathe life into me by giving me back my beloved money, or telling me who took it? Eh? What do you say? It is no-one. Whoever did it must have waited for their moment: they chose precisely the time I was talking with my traitor’s dog of a son. On with it, then. I seek justice and demand the entire household questioned under torture. Servants, valets, my son, my daughter, and myself as well.
(He scans the audience.)
HARPAGON: What a rabble! I cannot spot a single person who is not suspicious, they all look like thieves. Eh? What is that you are discussing over there? Which one of you robbed me? What is that noise up there? My thief, is it? Please, if anyone knows anything then tell me, I beg of you. He is hiding among you, is he not? They are looking at me, all of them, and starting to laugh. You see, they are all in it up to their necks, the theft, without a shadow of a doubt. Come on then! Get on with it commissioners, police, magistrates, judges, rack operators, gallowsmakers and hangmen. I want them all strung up. (String up the lot of them!) And if I do not get my money back, I shall string myself up afterwards.
ACT V
Scene I
(HARPAGON, POLICE OFFICER)
OFFICER: Just leave it to me, I know my job, praise God. This is not my first foray into the investigation of a larceny. I’d like a sackful of Louis’ for every neck I’ve stretched.
HARPAGON: Every judge, every magistrate in the land should be vigorously pursuing this matter. If my money and I are not reunited, I will demand justice itself be put on trial!
OFFICER: There is procedure to be followed. How much did you say was in the cashbox?
HARPAGON: Ten thousand. In cash.
OFFICER: Ten thousand!
HARPAGON: (Tearful) Ten thousand.
OFFICER: Not a bad haul.
HARPAGON: The torture sufficiently terrible to fit the enormity of this crime has not been invented, and should it go unpunished, then nothing, no matter how sacred, will ever be safe again.
OFFICER: Denominations? The money. In what denominations?
HARPAGON: Full weight gold Louis’, in mint condition.
OFFICER: Do you suspect anyone?
HARPAGON: I suspect everyone. I want the entire town and surrounding suburbs placed under arrest.
OFFICER: The way to proceed, if you’ll heed my professional opinion, is not to alarm the citizens, but to tread softly softly, gather the evidence, then come down with the full weight of the law and recover the missing loot.
Scene II
(MAÎTRE JACQUES, HARPAGON, POLICE OFFICER)
(MAÎTRE JACQUES, HARPAGON, POLICE OFFICER)
(MAÎTRE JACQUES enters, calling over his shoulder.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I’ll be back! Cut his throat for me right away, sear his feet, put him in boiling water, and hang him from the rafters.
HARPAGON: My thief?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: A suckling pig your steward sent me, so I can cook up my dream recipe for you.
HARPAGON: What has that to do with anything? The officer here wants to talk to you about something else altogether.
OFFICER: No need for alarm. I’m not a man given to scandalizing my suspects. Do everything on the quiet, I do.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Is sir staying for supper?
OFFICER: It is important you hold nothing back from your master, my friend.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Of course, sir! I’ll show you the full range of my skills, sir. I’ll serve you up the best I possibly can.
HARPAGON: That has nothing to do with anything!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: If the meal doesn’t come up to my usual high standard, blame Monsieur your Steward for clipping my wings with the scissors of his budget.
HARPAGON: This has nothing to do with your supper, you perfidious swine! I want you to tell me what you know about my stolen money.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Has your money been stolen?
HARPAGON: Yes, you bandit dog, and I’ll see you twist in the wind if you do not return it.
OFFICER: Lord above! Don’t bully the man excessively. I can tell from his face he’s an honest fellow and won’t require a period of incarceration to make him confess. So confess, my friend. Give us something, it will go well for you, and you’ll be suitably rewarded by your master. Someone’s purloined his savings today and I know you know something about it.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) The perfect opportunity to get back at our Monsieur the Steward, Monsieur the Master’s Pet, Monsieur-the-only-one-anyone-ever-listens-to-ever-since-he-got-here. I still wear scars on my heart from this afternoon’s beating.
HARPAGON: What are you muttering?
OFFICER: Leave him be. He’s preparing himself to give you satisfaction, and show I was right in alleging he was an honest man.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Master, if you really want to know, I believe it was Monsieur your beloved Steward who did this deed.
HARPAGON: Valère?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Yes.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Yes.
HARPAGON: Him? Who seems so loyal?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Him himself. He’s the one who robbed you, I’m sure of it.
HARPAGON: On what grounds do you suspect him?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: On what grounds?
HARPAGON: Yes.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I suspect him on the grounds that..he’s suspicious.
OFFICER: It is vital you present your evidence.
HARPAGON: Have you seen him lurking near where I hid my money?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Yes, I have, that’s right! Where was your money?
HARPAGON: In the garden.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: That’s right! That’s where I saw him lurking. In the garden. What was the money in?
HARPAGON: A cashbox.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: There you are! I saw him with a cashbox.
HARPAGON: What was it like, this cashbox? Mine is easily identified.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: What was it like?
HARPAGON: Yes.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It was like..like..a cashbox.
OFFICER: That goes without saying. Can you describe it a little more?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s a big cashbox.
HARPAGON: The one stolen from me is small.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Ah! Yes. It is small, if you go by how big it is. I’m talking about what’s inside it.
OFFICER: What colour is it?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: What colour?
OFFICER: Yes.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s coloured..a particular colour.. what’s it called? Help me out?
HARPAGON: Eh?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s not red, is it?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s not red, is it?
HARPAGON: It’s grey.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Ah! Yes! Grey-red! That’s what I was trying to say.
HARPAGON: There is no doubt. It is definitely the one. Write it down then, officer, take his deposition. Lord above! Who may I trust now? Nothing is certain any more; from this moment on, I become a man convinced I am capable of stealing from myself!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Master, here he is. Don’t let on it was me who exposed him, if it’s all right with you.
Scene III
(VALÈRE, HARPAGON, POLICE OFFICER, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
(VALÈRE, HARPAGON, POLICE OFFICER, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
(VALÈRE enters.)
HARPAGON: Come here, you. Come and confess to the darkest deed, the foulest offence, as was ever committed.
VALÈRE: What was it you wanted, Master?
HARPAGON: What, you iniquitous snake! Are you not ashamed of your crime?
VALÈRE: To which crime are you referring..?
HARPAGON: To which crime am I referring, you vile footpad? As if you have not the foggiest idea what I’m talking about! It is pointless to play dumb with me, the game is up, a certain someone has revealed all. How could you abuse my generosity by toadying your way into my house for the express purpose of knifing me in the back with a stunt like this?
VALÈRE: Master, as someone has revealed all, I will offer no excuses nor deny a thing.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) Oh, ho! I’m a clairvoyant.
VALÈRE: I had planned to speak to you and awaited the appropriate moment, but as I have been overtaken by events, I entreat you: kindly stay your anger and hear what I offer in my defence.
HARPAGON: What fancy excuses can you offer, you loathsome larcenist?
VALÈRE: Master, I do not merit such descriptions. It is true I have committed an offence against you, but, in the end, a pardonable one.
HARPAGON: What do you mean, pardonable? A pardonable ambush? A pardonable blade in the back?
VALÈRE: Please, do not upset yourself. Hear me out and you will find your injury nowhere near as hurtful as you make out.
HARPAGON: Nowhere near as hurtful as I make out? Repeat? My blood spilt, my very entrails torn from me, you criminal?
VALÈRE: Your blood has not spilled into lowly hands, Master. My station will not allow me to wrong you, and there is nothing in any of this for which I cannot make full amend.
HARPAGON: It is precisely my intention you make amends by returning everything you have taken from me.
VALÈRE: Your honour shall be completely satisfied, Master.
HARPAGON: Honour has nothing to do with it. So, enlighten me: what got into you to do such a thing?
VALÈRE: Good Lord! You need to ask?
HARPAGON: Of course I need to ask!
VALÈRE: I obeyed the god who pardons all that he compels. Love.
HARPAGON: Love?
VALÈRE: Yes.
HARPAGON: Sweet love, oh yes, sweet love indeed! Sweet love for my sweet gold Louis’.
VALÈRE: No, Master, it was not your wealth which tempted me, that’s not what dazzled my eyes, and I swear I have no interest in your fortune, as long as you let me keep the treasure I already possess.
HARPAGON: I will do nothing of the sort. By all the devils in hell, I will not let you keep it! What audacity is this, asking to keep what he has stolen?
VALÈRE: You cannot really call it stealing?
HARPAGON: Cannot call it stealing, a treasure like that?
VALÈRE: Oh, a treasure, to be sure, and your most precious, without doubt, but one not lost to you in becoming mine. I implore you, on my knees, grant me this most enchanting of treasures. It is only right that you should.
HARPAGON: I shall do no such thing. Do you know what you are saying?
VALÈRE: We have sworn a solemn oath to each other, and vowed never to part.
HARPAGON: What a marvellous oath! What a lovely vow!
VALÈRE: Yes, we are bound to one another, for eternity.
HARPAGON: And I swear I am bound to prevent you.
VALÈRE: We shall only be parted in death.
HARPAGON: My money has gone to his head!
VALÈRE: I have already stated my motive was not material, Master. My heart is fired not by what you think, but impelled by far nobler motive.
HARPAGON: Now we see! He is after my money in the spirit of Christian charity! We shall see about that. The law will sort you out, my light-fingered ingrate.
VALÈRE: You must act as you see fit. I am ready to suffer any pain you care to inflict, and ask only that if some offence has been committed, please know the blame lies solely with me, and that your daughter is completely innocent.
HARPAGON: Of course I know that, I know that very well. It would be quite unnatural for my daughter have any part in this crime. Now, I would like what is mine restored, so, confess, where have you hidden my treasure?
VALÈRE: Me? I have not hidden anything anywhere. We have not left the house.
HARPAGON: (Aside) My beloved cashbox! (to VALÈRE) You have not left the house?
VALÈRE: No, Master.
HARPAGON: Ah! Then tell me this: you have not..tampered with anything?
VALÈRE: I beg your pardon? Tampered? Oh, you wrong us both! Ours is a love so completely pure, so thoroughly virtuous, that I am positively inflamed by it.
HARPAGON: (Aside) He is inflamed by my cashbox.
VALÈRE: I would sooner die than harbour any dishonourable thought about one too sensible, too virtuous, for that kind of thing.
HARPAGON: (Aside) My cashbox is too virtuous.
VALÈRE: Simply to feast my eyes on her contents my every desire. No base thought has sullied the passion her beautiful eyes inspire.
HARPAGON: (Aside) My cashbox has beautiful eyes. He speaks like a lover of his mistress!
VALÈRE: Dame Claude knows the truth of the matter, Master. She can verify it to you.
HARPAGON: What? My maidservant is a co-conspirator in this affair?
VALÈRE: Yes, Master. She was witness to our vows. Once she saw my intentions were honorable, she helped me persuade your daughter to give me her pledge, and receive mine in return.
HARPAGON: (Aside) Eh? Has fear of the law pushed him over the edge? (to VALÈRE) Why do you cloud the issue with mention of my daughter?
VALÈRE: Master. I am saying: only with the greatest difficulty was I able to convince her chaste soul to entertain my love.
HARPAGON: Whose chaste soul?
VALÈRE: Your daughter’s. It was not until yesterday she resolved to sign our promise of marriage to each other.
HARPAGON: My daughter has signed a promise to marry you?
VALÈRE: Yes, Master, as I have signed to marry her.
HARPAGON: My God! Another scandal!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (to OFFICER) Write it down, sir, write it down.
HARPAGON: Evil upon evil! Despair upon despair! Do it, sir, carry out the duty of your office, draw up the indictment and arrest him as both a thief, and a seducer.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: As both a thief and a seducer.
VALÈRE: I have done nothing to warrant such accusations, and when you learn just who I am –
Scene IV
(ÉLISE, MARIANE, FROSINE, HARPAGON, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, POLICE OFFICER)
(ÉLISE, MARIANE, FROSINE, HARPAGON, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, POLICE OFFICER)
(ÉLISE, MARIANE, and FROSINE enter.)
HARPAGON: Aha! You wicked girl! You, daughter, are unworthy of a father like me! This is how you put into practice all the lessons I have taught you? By allowing yourself to fall in love with a notorious thief, then becoming engaged to him without my consent? Well, the two of you have outsmarted each other now. (to ÉLISE) From hereon in, convent walls will govern your behaviour. (to VALÈRE) And a pretty gallows will compensate me for your audacity!
VALÈRE: Your fury will not be judge of this, for I will be heard, at least, before I am condemned.
HARPAGON: I was mistaken when I said you would swing. You will be broken on the wheel.
ÉLISE: (On her knees) Dear father, please, show a little humanity, and don’t push parental rights to drastic extremes. Don’t let yourself be swept away by the first wave of anger. Take time to think about what you’re doing. Take trouble to look more closely at the man who angers you. He is not what you think, at all. You will more easily understand why I promised myself to him when you know that, but for him, you would have lost me long ago. Yes, dear Papa, this is the man who saved me from drowning - remember when I fell into the sea? - and to whom you owe your daughter’s life.
HARPAGON: That is nothing, nothing. I would prefer he had left you to drown than do what he has done now.
ÉLISE: Father, I beg you, if you love me at all..
HARPAGON: No, no. I do not want to hear any more. The law must take its course.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) This will teach you to beat me.
FROSINE: (Aside) We have ourselves a spot of bother.
Scene V
(ANSELME, HARPAGON, ÉLISE, MARIANE, VALÈRE, FROSINE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, POLICE OFFICER)
(ANSELME, HARPAGON, ÉLISE, MARIANE, VALÈRE, FROSINE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, POLICE OFFICER)
(ANSELME enters.)
ANSELME: What is the trouble, Seigneur Harpagon? You seem very..emotional.
HARPAGON: Ah! Seigneur Anselme, you see before you the most unfortunate of men. A mountain of distress and disturbance has arisen over the contract you are here to sign! My fortune and my honour have both suffered deadly assault. This serpent, this viper, has violated every sacred duty by slithering into my home in the guise of a servant, so as to steal my money and seduce my daughter.
VALÈRE: No-one cares about your money, so why babble on and on about it?
HARPAGON: They have become engaged. These two. To each other. You have been insulted, Seigneur Anselme, it is up to you to take legal action and pursue all available avenues of justice, at your expense, in avenging this outrage.
ANSELME: I have no desire to force anyone to marry me, nor make claim on a heart already given elsewhere. Where your own interests are concerned, however, I stand ready to embrace them as my own.
HARPAGON: This gentleman, this honest officer, assures me he will leave no stone unturned in the execution of his duty. (to OFFICER) Throw the book at him, sir, give the hardened criminal his just desserts.
VALÈRE: I still can’t see the crime in loving your daughter! As for wanting me tortured for becoming engaged to her, when you learn just who I am –
HARPAGON: Your silly stories make me laugh. The world today teems with faux aristocracy, brazen fraudsters taking advantage of their own insignificance to clad themselves in the first illustrious name they can lay their hands on.
VALÈRE: Then understand this: my heart is too noble to allow me anything not rightfully mine, and the entire population of Naples is witness to my birthright.
ANSELME: Steady on! Take care where your tongue leads you. You are in deeper water than you think, for you speak in the presence of someone highly familiar with Naples, who will see through any story you concoct, with ease.
VALÈRE: (Proudly donning his hat) I have nothing to fear. If you are highly familiar with Naples, then you know who Dom Thomas d'Alburcy was.
ANSELME: Indeed, I do. Few have known him better.
HARPAGON: I don’t care about Dom Thomas. Or Dom Martin either.
(He notices two candles burning. Extinguishes one.)
ANSELME: Let him speak, if you don’t mind, let’s hear what he has to say.
VALÈRE: I have this to say: he was my father.
ANSELME: He was?
VALÈRE: Yes.
ANSELME: Come now, you are making a fool of yourself. Try some other story and you might have more success. You are deluded if you think to save yourself with this confection.
VALÈRE: Think before opening your own mouth. This is no tale. And I claim nothing that is not easily proven.
ANSELME: What? You dare claim to be the son of Dom Thomas d'Alburcy?
VALÈRE: Indeed, I dare it, and am ready to uphold the truth of it against anyone claiming otherwise.
VALÈRE: Indeed, I dare it, and am ready to uphold the truth of it against anyone claiming otherwise.
ANSELME: The brazenness boggles the mind! Now hear, and be astounded. The man to whom you refer, along with his wife and children, was drowned in the ocean over sixteen years ago, while the family were fleeing for their lives from the barbarous persecutions of the Naples uprising, when so many noble families were driven into exile.
VALÈRE: Indeed. Now you yourself hear, and be astounded. His seven year old son and a servant were rescued from the shipwreck by a Spanish vessel, and it is that son who talks to you now. Hear also that the captain of the ship, touched by my ill fortune, took pity and raised me as his own son; that I pursued a career in the army from the moment I was old enough; that only recently did I learn my father was not dead, as I believed; that setting out to look for him, chance and the grace of God carried me here, where my eyes fell on the fair Élise; that I was enchanted by her beauty; and that the power of love, and her father’s tyranny, persuaded me to take up service in his house, and send someone else to search for my parents.
ANSELME: That is easy to say, but have you any proof this is not all a fairytale founded on a grain of truth?
VALÈRE: The Spanish captain. A ruby signet ring which belonged to my father. An agate bracelet my mother put on my arm. Old Pedro, the servant who was pulled from the shipwreck with me.
MARIANE: Praise God! You speak the truth! I can vouch for it myself. Every word you say makes me see it more clearly: you are my brother.
VALÈRE: You are my sister?
MARIANE: Yes. My heart felt a shiver the moment you opened your mouth. Our mother – who is in for a shock - has told me the story of our family misfortune a thousand times. The Good Lord saw to it we did not perish in that awful shipwreck either, but at the cost of our freedom, for Mother and I were picked up off floating debris by pirates. Ten years of slavery later, fortune smiled and gave us back our liberty, and we returned to Naples to find all our possessions sold and no word of father’s fate. Whereupon we sailed to Genoa where Mother claimed what little remained of the inheritance her family had squandered, and then, to escape the brutal unfairness of her parents, she fled to this corner of the world, where she has been languishing ever since.
ANSELME: Dear God in Heaven! Here we see the manifestation of your power! Here we see how you alone can work miracles! Come into my arms, my children, and let your happiness mingle with that of your fater.
VALÈRE: You are our father?
MARIANE: The man mother has shed so many tears over, is you?
ANSELME: Yes, dear daughter, yes, dear son, I am Dom Thomas d'Alburcy, whom the Good Lord also snatched from the waves, along with all the money I had with me, and who, after sixteen long years believing you all dead, and much wandering, was on the verge of seeking the consolation of a new family via marriage to a sweet and sensible woman. I feared for my life if I returned to Naples and so, turning my back forever, I found a way to sell off all I had, came here to live, took the name Anselme, and sought to assuage all the sorrow the other name had brought down upon me.
HARPAGON: This is your son?
ANSELME: Yes.
HARPAGON: I hold you liable for repaying the ten thousand Louis’ he stole from me.
ANSELME: He stole from you?
HARPAGON: Him. Himself.
VALÈRE: Who told you that?
HARPAGON: Maître Jacques.
VALÈRE: Did you tell him that?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I never said a word!
HARPAGON: You did so. The officer here took his statement.
VALÈRE: How can you believe me capable of such a despicable act?
HARPAGON: Capable, incapable, I want my money back.
Scene VI
(CLÉANTE, VALÈRE, MARIANE, ÉLISE, FROSINE, HARPAGON, ANSELME, MAÎTRE JACQUES, LA FLÈCHE, POLICE OFFICER)
(CLÉANTE, VALÈRE, MARIANE, ÉLISE, FROSINE, HARPAGON, ANSELME, MAÎTRE JACQUES, LA FLÈCHE, POLICE OFFICER)
(Enter CLÉANTE and LA FLÈCHE.)
CLÉANTE: You may calm down, father, and cease hurling accusations at all and sundry. I have uncovered certain information regarding this affair, and am here to tell you that, providing you allow me to marry Mariane, all your money will be returned.
HARPAGON: Where is it?
CLÉANTE: You need not concern yourself with that. I know exactly where it is, the situation is completely under my control. What you must do, is make up your mind, and choose to give me Mariane, or lose your cashbox.
HARPAGON: No-one has removed anything?
CLÉANTE: Nothing at all. So, decide then, if it suits you to accept this marriage and add your consent to that of Mariane’s mother, who has left her daughter free to choose between the two of us.
MARIANE: But can’t you see her consent is not enough now? Not since God returned not only my brother, but also my father, and he has to give his permission now?
ANSELME: My dear children, the Lord has not returned me to stand in the way of your heartfelt desires. Seigneur Harpagon, you surely know a young girl will more than likely choose the son over the father. Come, do not cause to be said what nobody wishes to hear. Join me in consenting to this double marriage.
HARPAGON: I cannot think clearly until I see my cashbox.
CLÉANTE: You shall see it, safe and sound.
HARPAGON: I have no money to give my children in marriage.
ANSELME: Never mind. I have enough for all. Do not trouble yourself.
HARPAGON: You guarantee to cover the costs of both marriages?
ANSELME: Yes, I guarantee. Are you content?
HARPAGON: I am, if you buy me a new outfit for the wedding.
ANSELME: Done. Now let us go and enjoy the delight of this happy day!
OFFICER: Hold on, Gentlemen! Hold on! Easy does it, if you don’t mind. Who’s paying for my depositions?
HARPAGON: Your depositions are nothing to do with us.
OFFICER: That may be. But I’m not working for free, not me.
HARPAGON: See that fellow there?
(He points at MAÎTRE JACQUES.)
HARPAGON: String him up for your payment.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Eh? What am I meant to do? They thrash me for telling the truth, then they hang me for lying.
ANSELME: Seigneur Harpagon, we must forgive the man his mendacity.
HARPAGON: You’ll pay the officer then?
ANSELME: Yes, yes, very well. Let us go then, quickly, to share our joy with your Mother.
HARPAGON: And me, to see my beloved cashbox.
THE END
Translation © TIM GOODING
11 June 2004
Molière:
The Miser
(L’Avare)
Translated by TIM GOODING
© 11 June 2004
Draft 3b
The Miser
(L’Avare)
First performed at the Palais-Royal, Paris, on 9 September 1668, by ‘The King’s Players’ (la Troupe du Roi).
The Characters
(Grouped for a cast of ten)
1. HARPAGON Father of Cléante and Élise, suitor to Mariane.
2. CLÉANTE Harpagon’s son. In love with Mariane.
3 ÉLISE Harpagon’s daughter. In love with Valère.
4. VALÈRE Anselme’s son. In love with Élise.
5. FROSINE Intriguer and go-between
2. CLÉANTE Harpagon’s son. In love with Mariane.
3 ÉLISE Harpagon’s daughter. In love with Valère.
4. VALÈRE Anselme’s son. In love with Élise.
5. FROSINE Intriguer and go-between
6. MAÎTRE JACQUES Cook and coachman to Harpagon.
7. MARIANE In love with Cléante. Harpagon’s intended.
DAME CLAUDE Harpagon’s maidservant
DAME CLAUDE Harpagon’s maidservant
8. ANSELME Father of Valère and Mariane.
MAÎTRE SIMON A Broker
MAÎTRE SIMON A Broker
BRINDAVOINE Harpagon’s footman
9. LA FLÈCHE Cléante’s valet
10. LA MERLUCHE Harpagon’s footman
POLICE OFFICER )
POLICE OFFICER )
POLICE CLERK )*
Set in Paris
* The POLICE OFFICER and POLICE CLERK have been merged into a single character.
ACT I
Scene I
(VALÈRE, ÉLISE)
VALÈRE: What is this? Sweet Élise, do I see you sad? After so tenderly promising me your love? I see you sigh? And at the height of my happiness! Do you regret making me happy? Tell me. Has my passion compelled you to a vow of marriage you now regret?
VALÈRE: What is this? Sweet Élise, do I see you sad? After so tenderly promising me your love? I see you sigh? And at the height of my happiness! Do you regret making me happy? Tell me. Has my passion compelled you to a vow of marriage you now regret?
ÉLISE: No, Valère, I cannot regret anything I do for you. I’m swept along by too sweet a power, and lack the strength even to wish things were different. But to be honest, I find this effect..unnerving. I’m terribly afraid I love you a little more than I should.
VALÈRE: Hé? What is there to fear in loving me, Elise?
ÉLISE: A hundred things, and all at once: my father’s fury, my family’s disapproval, the ticking of tongues in town.. But more than anything, a change of heart in you, Valère, and the cruel coldness of men which usually rewards the innocent girl who declares her love too passionately.
VALÈRE: Ah! You wrong me to judge me by other men. Suspect me of anything but losing respect for you, Elise. I adore you too much, and my love for you will last as long as I live.
ÉLISE: Ah! You all say the same thing, Valère. Men are all the same when they give their word. They reveal their differences only through their deeds.
VALÈRE: Since we are only to be known by our deeds, at least wait to judge my love by mine. Do not seek my faults in your own baseless fears and unfortunate forebodings. Please, do not destroy my happiness with the grievous wounding of unjust suspicion, only give me time and I will convince you, a thousand thousandfold, that my heart is true.
ÉLISE: How easily we’re persuaded by those we love! Valère, I know your heart is incapable of taking advantage of me. I know your love is faithful, and true; I have no desire at all to doubt you, it is just that I am wary of the disapproval of others.
VALÈRE: Why is that a worry?
ÉLISE: I would have nothing to fear if everyone saw you through my eyes, for what I see explains every little thing I do for you. Your virtue is my heart’s defence, fortified by gratitude in knowing that Heaven itself guided me to you. How can I ever forget the shocking peril which first threw us together?; the amazing selflessness in risking your life to pluck me from the raging sea; the overflowing tenderness on lifting me from the water; the ceaseless tributes of a burning love which neither time nor adversity has diminished, and which has led you to forsake your parents and your country, stop in this place, disguise your true rank and lower yourself to take employment as my father’s servant! Just to be near me! Oh, this is all wonderful, absolutely, to me, and fully justifies my promise to you, but it may not be enough for others. I’m not so sure they will share my feelings.
VALÈRE: Of all you have said, it is by my love alone I dare believe I am worthy of you. As to your misgivings, what more could your father possibly do to vindicate you? His overweening greed, the parsimonious regime he inflicts on his children, would excuse far stranger things. Sweet Elise, forgive me for speaking like this. But as you are aware, on this subject there is nothing pleasant to be said. In the end, should I succeed in locating my parents once more, as I hope, we will have little trouble gaining his consent. I am tired of waiting for news: if word does not arrive soon, I will go and search for them myself.
ÉLISE: No! Stay here with me, Valère, please. Concentrate on getting in father’s good books.
VALÈRE: Surely you see how I have already taken to the task? The masterly fawning I have employed to insinuate myself into his service? The mask of sympathy and nodding compliance I wear to please him? The groveling role I play, constantly, to gain his approval? I am making splendid progress. I find there is no better way to win people over than to completely agree with them, embrace their principles, ladle praise on their shortcomings, and applaud everything they do. And have no fear: one cannot overdo servility. One can humour people quite openly: the shrewder they are, the more susceptible to flattery, always; nothing is so unreasonable or so ludicrous it cannot be swallowed if sufficiently seasoned with praise. One’s integrity is a trifle diminished by this method, but if one wants something from someone, an accommodation to them is necessary. Further, since this is the only way to win people over, then the fault lies not with the flatterer, but with the flattered.
ÉLISE: Why don’t you try to win my brother over as well, in case the maid takes it upon herself to betray us?
VALÈRE: I can’t humour father and son at the same time. It is nigh impossible to juggle such opposing confidences simultaneously. But you, on the other hand, you may influence your brother and use the affection between you to persuade him to our side. Here he comes. I will go. Do speak to him, but reveal only as much as you think wise.
ÉLISE: I’m not sure I can bring myself to confide in him at all.
Scene II
(CLÉANTE, ÉLISE)
(CLÉANTE, ÉLISE)
(Enter CLÉANTE)
CLÉANTE: Dear sister. I am thrilled to find you alone. I have been dying to speak to you and share my secret.
ÉLISE: Here I am, all ears, dear brother. What do you want to tell me?
CLÉANTE: So many things, my sister, all wrapped in a single word: I am in love.
ÉLISE: You are in love?
CLÉANTE: Yes, I am in love. Before I continue, however, let me first say that I totally understand how I am beholden to my father; that as his son, I am subordinate to his will; that we should never contract to marry without the blessing of those who gave us life itself; that Heaven made them master of our nuptial destiny; that it is incumbent on us to allow them to decide on whom we may bestow our affection, because they, being more alert to the sway of foolish infatuation, are less likely to be deceived than we, and better placed to see what is for our own good; that we must trust in the light of their judgement rather than the blindness of our own passion; and that the fires of youth most often burn out in the abysses of regret. I say all of this, dear sister, to spare you the pain of saying it. For in the end, my heart has no intention of listening, and accordingly I ask you, please, to refrain from admonition.
ÉLISE: You’ve given your promise of marriage to this love of yours, dear brother?
CLÉANTE: No, but I have made up my mind to do so. And I entreat you, again, do not bring up the reasons why I should not.
ÉLISE: Am I so awful a person, dear brother?
CLÉANTE: No, dear sister. But you are not in love. You are ignorant of the sweet violence a tender love inflicts upon the hearts of we who are in love. And I am wary of your common sense.
ÉLISE: Ha! Dear brother, don’t speak to me about common sense. Everyone lacks it at least once in their life. If I opened my heart to you, you might just see I have even less sense than you.
CLÉANTE: Ah! Would to God your heart was like mine..
ÉLISE: Let’s deal with you first. So, tell me, who is she?
CLÉANTE: She is young, and new to these parts, and seems created to inspire love in all who see her. Sweet sister, Nature has fashioned nothing more adorable. I was swept away the instant I saw her. Mariane. Her name is Mariane. She lives with her elderly invalid mother, to whom this divine girl is unimaginably devoted. She nurses her, solaces her, cares for her with a tenderness that touches the soul. She brings the most enchanting poise to everything she does and a thousandfold Graces sparkle in her every movement. A sweetness so magnetic, a kindness so captivating, an openness so adorable, a..if only you could have seen her, dear sister!
ÉLISE: I see her in the picture you paint. That you love her is enough to tell me what she is like.
CLÉANTE: I have learned, discreetly, that they are not well situated. Despite living modestly, they find difficulty in making ends meet. Sister, picture the joy in restoring the fortunes of the one you love! In contributing – discreetly – to the humble needs of a virtuous family! Then imagine my anguish as I see that, because of father’s greed, I can never taste such happiness, nor utter single word of love to this beautiful creature.
ÉLISE: Yes, I can well imagine your anguish.
CLÉANTE: Oh, sister, it is worse than you can imagine. Can anyone anywhere imagine anything more cruel than the Spartan economy he imposes on us, the reign of unnatural stinginess under which he compels us to languish? What is the point of coming into money when we are too old to enjoy it? While in the meantime I have to borrow here, there, and everywhere just to support myself? And constantly lower myself, as must you, to seeking the assistance of shopkeepers in order to clothe myself in a decent manner. Anyway. I wanted to ask your help in sounding out father on where I stand. If he opposes my desires, I am resolved to elope with my beloved, to wherever, where we will enjoy whatever fate Heaven allows. With this in mind, I am looking to borrow anywhere and everywhere. And if your situation is similar, and father opposes your wishes also, let us abandon him together and break the tyrannous chains of intolerable greed which have bound us for so long.
ÉLISE: He does daily give us new reasons to regret the death of our mother, that is true..
CLÉANTE: (Hearing HARPAGON’S voice) That’s his voice. Let us continue this discussion elsewhere. After which we join forces and launch attack on his heart of stone..
(ÉLISE and CLÉANTE exit.)
Scene III
(HARPAGON, LA FLÈCHE)
(HARPAGON, LA FLÈCHE)
(HARPAGON and LA FLÈCHE enter.)
HARPAGON: I want you out of here, right this minute, so save the smart replies. Out you go, out of my house, you prince of thieves, you gallows bird supreme!
LA FLÈCHE: (aside) I’ve never seen such a poisonous old.. piece of work. If you ask me, he’s possessed by Satan, with all due respect.
HARPAGON: What is that you are muttering?
LA FLÈCHE: Why are you kicking me out?
HARPAGON: Oh, how marvellous, the man most likely to hang asks me for my reasons. Get out before I knock you out.
LA FLÈCHE: What have I done to you?
HARPAGON: Enough for me to want you out of here.
LA FLÈCHE: My master, your son, he ordered me to wait.
HARPAGON: Go and wait for him out in the street instead of planting yourself inside my house like a lamppost, watching everything that goes on, angling for your cut. I don’t want a spy peering over my shoulder all the time, a nefarious little rat with his sinister eyes always ogling my affairs, constantly covetting my possessions, forever ferreting about for whatever he can steal.
LA FLÈCHE: How the devil could anyone steal from you? You’re unstealable-fromable! You double-padlock everything and stand guard day and night!
HARPAGON: I lock whatever I want, and stand guard whenever and wherever I please. Do not tell me informers are not taking note of everything I do. (Aside) I fear he has wind of my money. (to LA FLÈCHE) You are the type who runs round spreading stories I have money hidden in the house, are you not?
LA FLÈCHE: Have you? Got money hidden?
HARPAGON: No, you degenerate, I did not say that. (Aside) This drives me insane. (to LA FLÈCHE) I am simply requesting you not go round spreading malicious rumours that I have.
LA FLÈCHE: Ha! Who cares if you have or you haven’t? We don’t see it either way.
HARPAGON: Quibble with me, would you? I will give you a good quibble about the ears!
(He raises his hand to hit LA FLÈCHE)
HARPAGON: For the last time, will you get out of here!
LA FLÈCHE: Fine, then. I’m off.
LA FLÈCHE: Fine, then. I’m off.
HARPAGON: Hold it! You’re not taking anything of mine with you?
LA FLÈCHE: Like what?
HARPAGON: Come here so I may see. Show me your hands.
LA FLÈCHE: There they are.
HARPAGON: And the others.
LA FLÈCHE: The others?
HARPAGON: Yes.
LA FLÈCHE: There they are.
(HARPAGON points to LA FLÈCHE’S voluminous culottes.)
HARPAGON: What about in there?
LA FLÈCHE: See for yourself.
(HARPAGON checks inside the bottom of the trousers.)
HARPAGON: This style of culotte is perfect for receiving stolen goods. Whoever makes them should be strung up.
LA FLÈCHE: (Aside) Just begging to get what they’re afraid of, aren’t they, his sort? It’d tickle me pink to give him his robbery.
HARPAGON: Eh?
LA FLÈCHE: What?
HARPAGON: Did you say something about a robbery?
LA FLÈCHE: I said: have a good rummage. Make sure I haven’t robbed you.
HARPAGON: That is what I am doing.
(He searches LA FLÈCHE’s pockets.)
LA FLÈCHE: A plague on stinges and their stinginess!
HARPAGON: What? What are you saying?
LA FLÈCHE: What? What am I saying?
HARPAGON: Yes. About stinges and stinginess. What are you saying?
LA FLÈCHE: I am saying: a plague on stinges and their stinginess.
HARPAGON: Referring to whom?
LA FLÈCHE: To stinges.
HARPAGON: And who might they be, these stinges?
LA FLÈCHE: Assorted skinflints. Various tightwads.
HARPAGON: But who is it you are alluding to?
LA FLÈCHE: Why’s that a worry to you?
HARPAGON: I worry about what I need to worry about.
LA FLÈCHE: You think I was speaking about you.
HARPAGON: I think what I am thinking. I want you to tell me who you were talking to, when you said it.
LA FLÈCHE: I am talking to my hat.
HARPAGON: And I could well be chatting with your beret. You are asking for a slap across the face.
LA FLÈCHE: Are you forbidding me to curse misers?
HARPAGON: No, I am forbidding you to prattle on and show insolence. So shut up.
LA FLÈCHE: I didn’t name names.
HARPAGON: Open your mouth one more time and I will thrash you.
LA FLÈCHE: But if the cap fits..
(If your nose runs, blow it!)
HARPAGON: Will you be quiet?
LA FLÈCHE: Yes. In spite of my better judgement.
HARPAGON: Ha, ha!
LA FLÈCHE: Hold on. Found another pocket.
(He turns out a vest pocket.)
LA FLÈCHE: Happy now?
HARPAGON: Come on, do not make me frisk you, hand it over.
LA FLÈCHE: What?
HARPAGON: Whatever it is you have taken.
LA FLÈCHE: I haven’t taken anything.
HARPAGON: Are you sure about that?
LA FLÈCHE: Positive.
HARPAGON: Goodbye, then. Off to hell with you.
LA FLÈCHE: Nice farewell, that is.
HARPAGON: I leave you to your conscience.
(Exit LA FLÈCHE.)
HARPAGON: That villain of a valet causes me considerable anxiety. I cannot stand the sight of the dirty limping dog.
Scene IV
(HARPAGON)
HARPAGON: Keeping a large amount of cash around the house is terribly worrying, to be sure; blessed is he who invests soundly and retains only a bare minimum for expenses. I am hard-pressed to find a single secure hiding place anywhere on the premises, as, in my view, safes are unreliable and I can never bring myself to trust them. What are they but a tasty morsel for thieves, and the first thing they head for?
(HARPAGON)
HARPAGON: Keeping a large amount of cash around the house is terribly worrying, to be sure; blessed is he who invests soundly and retains only a bare minimum for expenses. I am hard-pressed to find a single secure hiding place anywhere on the premises, as, in my view, safes are unreliable and I can never bring myself to trust them. What are they but a tasty morsel for thieves, and the first thing they head for?
Scene V
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE)
HARPAGON: (Thinking he is alone.) On the other hand, was it such inspiration to bury in the garden the ten thousand gold Louis’ I received yesterday? Ten thousand Louis’ in cash is a tidy sum to have around –
(CLÉANTE and ÉLISE come into sight, talking low.)
HARPAGON: God in Heaven! I have dug my own grave. Passion got the better of me and I was debating myself out loud. What is it?
CLÉANTE: Nothing, father.
HARPAGON: How long have you been here?
ÉLISE: We just arrived.
HARPAGON: You heard, did you?
CLÉANTE: Heard what, father?
HARPAGON: That.
ÉLISE: What?
HARPAGON: What I was saying.
CLÉANTE: No.
HARPAGON: Yes, you did. I know you did.
ÉLISE: Excuse me?
HARPAGON: I can tell you heard several words. What I was actually conversing with myself about was, how impossible it is to get hold of money these days, and how only a very, very lucky man could have ten thousand gold Louis’ on him.
CLÉANTE: We hesitated to approach, for fear we were interrupting.
HARPAGON: I am delighted to have the chance to explain, just in case you got things completely the wrong way round, and thought I said that I had ten thousand gold Louis’.
CLÉANTE: Your business is none of our business.
HARPAGON: Would to God I had ten thousand gold Louis’!
CLÉANTE: I don’t think –
HARPAGON: What a stroke of fortune that would be!
ÉLISE: Such things –
HARPAGON: I could certainly do with it.
CLÉANTE: I think –
HARPAGON: That would do me nicely, that would.
ÉLISE: You’re –
HARPAGON: Then I would have no need to bemoan our wretched circumstances so much, as I do now.
CLÉANTE: Good God, father! You have nothing to complain about. It’s common knowledge you have more than enough to get by.
HARPAGON: What? Me, have enough? Anyone who says that is a liar. Nothing is further from the truth. And people who run round spreading stories like that are nothing but troublemakers.
ÉLISE: Don’t get yourself overwrought.
HARPAGON: How unnatural is it, when my own children turn on me and become my enemies!?
CLÉANTE: Saying you’ve done well for yourself makes me your enemy?
HARPAGON: Yes. Talk like that – combined with all your extravagances - will one day cause someone to come round here and slit my throat, in the belief that I am fabulously wealthy.
CLÉANTE: What do you mean, my extravagances?
HARPAGON: What do I mean? Is anything more scandalous than the opulent wardrobe in which you parade yourself around town? I had to reprimand your sister yesterday, but this is far worse! Am I being punished for something? This – whatever it is you call what you are wearing - would be a year’s rent to some. I have told you over and over, my son, your conduct does not impress me one iota: this feverish aping of the aristocracy, this promenading round in lavish getup, can only mean one thing: you are stealing from me.
CLÉANTE: Eh? I am stealing from you? How?
HARPAGON: How do I know? Where do you obtain the wherewithal to support your..style of deportment?
CLÉANTE: I play cards. And as I am extremely lucky, I clothe myself with my winnings.
HARPAGON: Wrong. Wrong! That is completely the wrong thing to do! The successful gambler maximizes his earnings by investing his winnings at high interest for the long-term future. I would also like to know, apart from anything else, what is the point of all the ribbons draping you from head to foot, and would not half a dozen pins serve to suspend your britches? Where is the need to spend good money on a wig when you can wear your own hair for free? I am willing to wager that all your wigs and your ribbons cost twenty Louis’, at least, and twenty Louis’ invested at only 8.33% will earn interest of two gold pistoles, one écu, eighteen livres, six sols, and eight deniers, per annum.
CLÉANTE: You are quite right.
HARPAGON: Then let us move on to other business - eh?
(He sees CLÉANTE and ÉLISE gesturing to each other.)
HARPAGON: (Aside) I think they are signalling each other to steal my purse. (to CLÉANTE) The signalling. What is that all about?
ÉLISE: We’re haggling over who speaks first. We both have something to talk to you about.
HARPAGON: I have something to say to both of you as well.
CLÉANTE: We wish to talk to you about marriage, father.
HARPAGON: Ah. I want to raise the subject of marriage with you, also.
ÉLISE: (Fearful) Ah! Father.
HARPAGON: “Ah! father?” What is it about marriage that alarms you, dear daughter, the word, or the thing itself?
CLÉANTE: Marriage may cause both of us alarm, father, depending on your understanding of it, as we fear our feelings and your choice will not be in harmony.
HARPAGON: A little patience. No need to alarm yourselves. I have the best interests of both of you at heart. Neither of you will have any cause for complaint at what I intend for you. Now, to begin at the beginning, are you familiar with a young lady named Mariane, who lives near here?
CLÉANTE: Yes, father.
HARPAGON: And you?
ÉLISE: I’ve heard talk of her.
HARPAGON: What do you think of the young lady, son?
CLÉANTE: A most delightful person.
HARPAGON: Her face?
CLÉANTE: Completely honest, and with a sparkling intelligence.
HARPAGON: Her manner? Her comportment?
CLÉANTE: Impeccable, beyond shadow of doubt.
HARPAGON: Such a young lady merits serious consideration, in your opinion?
CLÉANTE: Yes, father.
HARPAGON: She would be a desirable match?
CLÉANTE: Very desirable.
HARPAGON: With seemingly all the makings of a good housewife?
CLÉANTE: Definitely.
HARPAGON: And able to satisfy a husband?
CLÉANTE: Most assuredly.
HARPAGON: There is one small problem: I am afraid she is not accompanied by the size of dowry one could want.
CLÉANTE: Ah! Dear Papa, surely money is of no importance when it is a matter of marrying an honest woman?
HARPAGON: Excuse me, excuse me. Although there is this to be said: if the dowry is not all that one might wish, one may endeavour to make up for it by other means.
CLÉANTE: That makes sense.
HARPAGON: How it warms my heart to hear you agree with me, because her decency and sweetness have captured my heart, and as long as she comes with some cash, I have made up my mind to marry her.
CLÉANTE: Euh - ?
HARPAGON: Pardon?
HARPAGON: Pardon?
CLÉANTE: You’ve made up your mind to - what did you say?
HARPAGON: To marry Mariane.
CLÉANTE: Who? You? You yourself?
HARPAGON: Yes, me, me, me myself. What are you trying to say?
CLÉANTE: I feel dizzy all of a sudden, and have to leave the room.
HARPAGON: It will pass. Go into the kitchen and have a big glass of water. Cold water!
(CLÉANTE exits.)
Scene VI
(HARPAGON, ÉLISE)
HARPAGON: These weedy young squires do not have the vigour of chickens. So there you have it, my girl, that is what I have concluded for myself. As for your brother, I am lining up a certain widow, about whom I was approached by a party this morning. And you I am giving to Seigneur Anselme.
ÉLISE: To Seigneur Anselme?
HARPAGON: Yes. A mature gentleman, prudent, wise, not a day over fifty, and reportedly very wealthy.
ÉLISE: To Seigneur Anselme?
HARPAGON: Yes. A mature gentleman, prudent, wise, not a day over fifty, and reportedly very wealthy.
ÉLISE: (Curtseys) If you please, father, I don’t want to marry.
HARPAGON: (Returns her cursey) If you please, my sweet, my pet, I myself do want you to marry.
ÉLISE: (Curtseys) Begging your pardon, father.
HARPAGON: (Curtseys) Begging your pardon, daughter.
ÉLISE: I remain Seigneur Anselme’s very humble servant (curtseys again) but with your kind permission, I won’t marry him.
HARPAGON: I remain your very humble servant (curtseys again) but with your kind permission, you will marry him this evening.
ÉLISE: This evening?
HARPAGON: This evening.
ÉLISE: (Curtseys) I will not do it, father.
HARPAGON: (Curtseys) You will do it, daughter.
ÉLISE: No.
HARPAGON: Yes.
ÉLISE: I won’t, I tell you.
HARPAGON: You will, I tell you.
ÉLISE: You can’t force me to do it!
HARPAGON: I can force you to do it.
ÉLISE: I’ll kill myself before I marry a man like that!
HARPAGON: You will not kill yourself and you will marry him. Have you no shame? Daughters do not speak to their fathers like this!
ÉLISE: Fathers don’t marry off their daughters like this!
HARPAGON: It is a perfect match, which will meet with universal approval, and I would put money on it.
ÉLISE: And I’d put money on the disapproval of anyone with the slightest sense whatsoever.
(VALÈRE enters, at a distance.)
HARPAGON: Ah. There is Valère. What if we allow him to adjudicate between us? What do you say?
ÉLISE: I agree.
HARPAGON: You will accept his decision?
ÉLISE: I’ll abide by whatever he says.
HARPAGON: Done.
Scene VII
(VALÈRE, HARPAGON, ÉLISE)
HARPAGON: Come here, Valère. We have elected you to decide which of us, my daughter or myself, is in the right.
(VALÈRE, HARPAGON, ÉLISE)
HARPAGON: Come here, Valère. We have elected you to decide which of us, my daughter or myself, is in the right.
VALÈRE: You are, Master. Without question.
HARPAGON: Do you have any idea what we are talking about?
VALÈRE: No, but you could not be wrong, as you are always correct.
HARPAGON: I wish to give my daughter’s hand in marriage to a rich, wise man, tonight. The perverse girl tells me to my face that she finds the prospect laughable. What do you say to that?
VALÈRE: What do I say?
HARPAGON: Yes.
VALÈRE: Oh. Ah.
HARPAGON: Oh, ah, what?
VALÈRE: I think, fundamentally, I agree with you. As of course you can never be mistaken. On the other hand, she is not completely in the wrong, not -
HARPAGON: How can you say that? Seigneur Anselme is a fine catch, a gentleman, high born, kind-hearted, sober, wise, well to do, with no surviving children from his first marriage. She cannot do better.
VALÈRE: True. Although she could possibly say she feels a fraction..rushed, and might be granted a little more time to determine if her own personal inclinations can accommodate -
HARPAGON: There is no time to waste, only to seize, for I am granted here a unique, once in a lifetime opportunity: he is willing to take her without a dowry. No dowry.
VALÈRE: No dowry?
HARPAGON: Yes.
VALÈRE: Ah! Then there is nothing more to say. There you have it. The matter is settled. There is no arguing with that.
HARPAGON: It offers me a considerable saving.
VALÈRE: Assuredly and incontrovertibly. True, it may be your daughter could contend that marriage is a more serious situation than some might seem to think; that it determines whether one is happy or unhappy for the remainder of one’s life; and that a commitment until death should never be made without the greatest caution.
HARPAGON: No dowry.
VALÈRE: You are right. That’s the decisive factor. I can only agree. Of course there will always be people who will say that this is a situation wherein a father should definitely take his daughter’s feelings into account, and that such a huge difference in age, temperament, and attitude, will place a deplorable strain on the marriage.
HARPAGON: No dowry.
VALÈRE: Ah! There is no disputing that. You know it, I know it, who on earth can contradict that? Not that there would not be a few fathers with more regard for their daughter’s happiness than any sum of money they might have to part with; who would not sacrifice them for profit, but seek to find in a marriage, more than anything else, that loving unity which forever garners respect, contentment, and joy, that -
HARPAGON: No dowry.
VALÈRE: Too true. No further discussion need be entered into. There is simply no debating “No dowry”, is there?
(HARPAGON looks in the direction of the garden.)
HARPAGON: (Aside) Oh oh. I think I hear a dog barking. Is someone after my money? (To VALÈRE) Do not move. I’ll be back shortly.
(HARPAGON exits)
Scene VIII
(ÉLISE, VALÈRE)
ÉLISE: You’re not serious, are you, Valère? Saying what you said?
VALÈRE: I am humouring him in order to win him round. To clash head-on will only serve to ruin everything. Certain souls necessitate an indirect approach, for the combative, innately recalcitrant temper, which rears at the sight of truth and steels itself against common sense, cannot be led but only turned gently in the direction you desire it to go. Compliance with its demands must be feigned, so better to achieve the desired end.
ÉLISE: The wedding, Valère?
VALÈRE: We will seek a loophole with which to break it off.
VALÈRE: We will seek a loophole with which to break it off.
ÉLISE: Will we find this loophole before tonight?
VALÈRE: You will come down with an illness. And request a postponement.
ÉLISE: I’ll be found out when they call the doctor.
VALÈRE: You jest, surely. What do they know about anything? Go on, have an illness, have any illness you like, and they will come up with an explanation for how you came down with it.
Scene IX
(HARPAGON, ÉLISE, VALÈRE)
(HARPAGON enters.)
HARPAGON: (to himself) A false alarm, thank the Lord.
VALÈRE: Our last resort must be to elope, my beautiful Élise, if your love for me is strong enough to –
(He notices HARPAGON.)
VALÈRE: Yes, it is the duty of a daughter to obey her father. She need not concern herself with her husband’s appearance, and upon entering a situation where there is “no dowry required”, must be prepared to accept whatever is on offer.
HARPAGON: Marvellous. Very well put.
VALÈRE: Excuse me, Master, for allowing myself to be carried away a little, and taking the liberty of speaking my mind to her.
HARPAGON: What? I am delighted and want to give you a free hand with her. (to ÉLISE) Do not dream of running away. I grant him the same authority over you that Our Lord in Heaven has granted me. I know you will do whatever he says.
VALÈRE: (to ÉLISE) Now do you resist my instruction?
(ÉLISE exits.)
Scene X
(HARPAGON, VALÈRE, ÉLISE)
VALÈRE: (to HARPAGON) I will follow her and continue the lesson, Master.
HARPAGON: Do so. I am most obliged to you.
VALÈRE: She needs keeping on a tight rein.
HARPAGON: Very true. She does.
VALÈRE: Do not worry. I know how to handle her.
HARPAGON: Do. Do. I am going to take a short stroll into town. I will be back directly.
VALÈRE: (Exiting. To ÉLISE, off) Money is the most precious thing in the world, and you should give thanks to God for giving you such a decent man for a father. He knows what life is about. When a man offers to accept a girl without a dowry, why then, one need look no further. Nothing else is of any consequence, as a dowry forgone takes precedence over beauty, youth, breeding, honour, wisdom, and integrity.
HARPAGON: Ah! Good lad! Spoken like an oracle. How lucky am I to have a man like that in my service?
ACT II
Scene I
(CLÉANTE, LA FLÈCHE)
CLÉANTE: Aha! It’s you, you wretch. Where did you get to? Didn’t I give you an order?
LA FLÈCHE: Yes, Master, and I was obeying it, I was right here, resolutely waiting for you, but the Master, your father – he’s the most cantankerous old - he chased me out, under protest, and I came that close to a thrashing.
CLÉANTE: How is our little negotiation progressing? The situation becomes more urgent than ever. Since I last saw you, I have learned I have a rival in love: my father.
LA FLÈCHE: Your father? In love?
CLÉANTE: Yes. I find it extremely difficult to conceal the distress this causes me.
LA FLÈCHE: Him? Him? Getting mixed up with love? What demon jammed that notion in his skull? He’s pulling our legs, must be. Has the love been made for people constructed like him?
CLÉANTE: It is to punish me for my sins, that passion has been made to enter his head.
LA FLÈCHE: So why keep your love a secret from him?
CLÉANTE: To arouse less suspicion and be better positioned to derail the marriage. Have you had a response?
LA FLÈCHE: Well, Master. A borrower’s in an unfortunate position, and has to put up with some..peculiar things when he’s reduced to delivering himself into the hands of money lenders. As you are.
CLÉANTE: We are not making progress?
LA FLÈCHE: I didn’t say that. Maître Simon, he’s our go-between – a very keen, hard-working fellow – he says he’s done the impossible for you. He assures me he’s become quite attached to your particular predicament.
CLÉANTE: I will get the fifteen thousand?
LA FLÈCHE: Yes. There are a few fiddley little conditions you’ll have to go along with to seal the deal.
CLÉANTE: Has he introduced you to the lender?
LA FLÈCHE: Ah. That’s not how it’s done. He wants to keep his identity quiet even more than you do. These things are more complicated than you think. They won’t give his name, but they’ve organized for you to meet him today, in a purpose-rented house, so he can get the details of your assets and your family from the horse’s mouth. I’m sure you’ll only have to mention your father’s name and everything will go fine.
CLÉANTE: Especially as Mother is dead and no-one can stop me inheriting her money.
LA FLÈCHE: Here are the conditions he himself dictated to our intermediary, as he wants you to look them over before proceeding. “Provided: that The Lender is satisfied as to the securities; and that The Borrower is of age, of a family of sufficient means, secure, fully insured, and free and clear of all and any encumbrance; a proper and precise instrument shall be executed before a notary of utmost integrity, who, to this end, shall be nominated by The Lender, in acknowledgement that he holds the superior interest in the contract being duly enacted.”
CLÉANTE: I have nothing to add.
LA FLÈCHE: The Lender, insofar as his conscience may be seen
to be beyond question, offers to lend his money at a rate of interest of 5.5% per annum.
CLÉANTE: 5.5%? Yes! I agree! That seems fair. I can’t complain about that.
LA FLÈCHE: True. “But insofar as Said Lender does not himself hold the Agreed Amount, and in order to service The Borrower is thus constrained to borrow Said Agreed Amount from a Third Party at the rate of 20%, it falls upon the Aforesaid Borrower to agree to pay Said Interest of 20%, without prejudice to the Aforesaid Rate Of Interest of 5.5%, insofar as it is in consideration of his obligation to the Aforesaid Borrower that the Aforesaid Lender is obliged to undertake to borrow the Aforesaid Agreed Amount.”
CLÉANTE: Hell’s bells! What sort of shark, what sort of shyster, are we dealing with here? That’s more than 25%!
LA FLÈCHE: Exactly. That’s what I said. You better think it over.
CLÉANTE: What is there to think over? I need the money. I must agree to everything.
LA FLÈCHE: That’s what I told him.
CLÉANTE: Is there more?
LA FLÈCHE: One small condition. “Of the fifteen thousand requested, The Lender is only able to dispense twelve thousand in cash; in respect of the remaining three thousand, The Borrower agrees to accept such clothing, furniture, and jewellery as listed in the Attached Inventory, and set by Aforesaid Lender, in good faith, at the most modest price possible.
CLÉANTE: What am I meant to say?
LA FLÈCHE: Listen to the Inventory. “Item the first: one child’s four-poster bed, complete with hangings of Hungarian lace, elegantly embroidered on an olive backing, plus six matching chairs and bedspread, the whole in good condition, and lined with alternating red and blue lightweight taffeta. Plus: one canopy for a bed, of fine serge d’Aumale - that’s a small village in Normandy - in a “faded rose” colour, with tapestry border and silk fringing.”
CLÉANTE: What am I supposed to do with all that?
LA FLÈCHE: Hold on. “Plus: one tapestry curtain depicting the amorous adventures of Gombaut and Macée. Plus: one large walnut table with twelve columnar or turned pillar legs – that’s in the Louis XIII style – with extendable leaves at both ends, the whole complete with six stools which fit underneath.”
CLÉANTE: What have I got myself into? Gadzooks! Merde!
LA FLÈCHE: Patience. “Plus: three large muskets, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, plus three assorted rests. Plus: one brick furnace with twin retorts and triple intakes, most useful for those having an interest in distillery.”
CLÉANTE: I’m becoming very angry.
LA FLÈCHE: Easy. “Plus: one Bolognaise lute, complete with strings, or near enough to. Plus: one set of bowls, one draughts board, and one game of Mother Goose modeled on the Greek, the whole most suitable for passing time when one has nothing else to do. In addition: one lizard skin - possibly crocodile - three and one half feet long, stuffed with hay, an attractive feature for suspension from the ceiling of a bedroom. The Aforementioned Lot, valued in good faith at more than four thousand five hundred Louis’, is at the discretion of The Lender reduced to three thousand.”
CLÉANTE: I hope the parasite chokes on his discretion! What a bloodsucker! Have you ever heard of extortion like this? And this leech is not satisfied with charging exorbitant interest, oh no, he also expects me to buy his collection of old junk! For three thousand! I won’t get two hundred for the lot! And I have no choice but to consent to whatever the tick wants, for he has me over the barrel, with a knife at my throat.
LA FLÈCHE: Not to upset you, Master, but it looks to me like you’re on the same road to ruin as Panurge: taking cash advances; buying dear, selling cheap; and eating corn before it’s ripe.
CLÉANTE: What do you want me to do? So is youth brought low by the damnable greed of the fathers! No wonder the sons want them dead!
LA FLÈCHE: You won’t get any argument from me: your Papa would get up a saint’s nose. Now I’m not interested in getting myself strung up, praise God, and when I see my colleagues mixing in certain types of dealings, I know to back off and unmix myself from practices which have a whiff of the stepladder about them, but, truth be told, with the way he goes on, he’d give me every temptation to rob him blind, and think I deserved a medal for doing it.
CLÉANTE: Give me another look at the inventory.
Scene II
(MAÎTRE SIMON, HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, LA FLÈCHE)
(MAÎTRE SIMON, HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, LA FLÈCHE)
(MAÎTRE SIMON and HARPAGON enter, upstage)
MAÎTRE SIMON: Oh yes, sir, the young man needs money, urgently. He’s under pressure, and will agree to any conditions you care to impose.
HARPAGON: You are absolutely certain there is no risk, Maître Simon? You know the name, the financial position, the family of the party you act for?
MAÎTRE SIMON: No, I’m not really able to brief you in depth, as he was only directed to me by chance. But he’ll clarify everything for you himself. His representative assures me you’ll be satisfied once you meet him. What I can tell you is that the family is very wealthy, the mother already dead, and the father guaranteed to die within eight months, if you so require.
HARPAGON: That seems acceptable. It is our charitable duty to please others whenever we are able, Maître Simon.
MAÎTRE SIMON: Of course.
LA FLÈCHE: (whispers, to CLÉANTE) What’s this all about? Our Maître Simon speaking to your father.
CLÉANTE: (whispers to LA FLÈCHE) Someone has told him who I am. Betray me, would you?
(The four meet.)
MAÎTRE SIMON: Ah! Ah! You are keen! Who told you the meeting was here? (to HARPAGON) It wasn’t me who gave them your name and address, sir. Still, no harm done, I think. We’re all persons of discretion. You can discuss the arrangement between you here.
HARPAGON: Eh?
MAÎTRE SIMON: Sir is the party of whom I spoke, sir, who wishes to borrow the fifteen thousand Louis’ from you.
HARPAGON: You, you worm!? You would sink this low, would you?
CLÉANTE: You, Father!? You would stoop to this shameful transaction, would you?
(MAÎTRE SIMON exits. LA FLÈCHE hides.)
Scene III
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, LA FLÈCHE)
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, LA FLÈCHE)
HARPAGON: So you are the one who wants to ruin himself with such reprehensible borrowing?
CLÉANTE: So you are the one who seeks to enrich himself by criminal usury?
HARPAGON: How will you dare to face me after this ?
CLÉANTE: How will you dare face anyone at all?
HARPAGON: Are you not ashamed to fall into this debauchery? To plunge into such appalling expense? To disgracefully squander the fortune your parents worked so hard to make for you?
CLÉANTE: Surely you blush to besmirch your good name with commerce like this? To sacrifice respect and reputation to the insatiable lust for gold? To eclipse the most heinous interest rate ever devised by the most infamous of usurers?
HARPAGON: Out of my sight, you profligate pup! Get out of my sight.
CLÉANTE: Tell me who is more criminal? He who buys money he needs, or he who extorts money he doesn’t?
HARPAGON: Go, I tell you, before my blood boils over!
(CLÉANTE exits.)
HARPAGON: I am not sorry it has come to this. It is a warning to keep a sharp eye, sharper than ever, on what he is up to.
Scene IV
(FROSINE, HARPAGON)
(FROSINE, HARPAGON)
(FROSINE enters.)
FROSINE: Monsieur - ?
HARPAGON: Wait on a moment. I’ll be back to talk to you. (Aside.) I think a quick inspection of my cash is timely.
(HARPAGON exits.)
Scene V
(LA FLÈCHE, FROSINE.)
(LA FLÈCHE enters. He does not see FROSINE.)
LA FLÈCHE: This is a complete joke. He must have a furniture warehouse hidden somewhere. We haven’t found a single item from the inventory in the house.
FROSINE: Hey! You, poor old La Flèche! What’re you up to round here?
LA FLÈCHE: Ah! Ah! Frosine. What’re you up to yourself?
FROSINE: What I’m up to everywhere else: acting as a go-between, making myself useful to the populace, profiting as best I can from what small talents God has granted me. You live on your wits in this world, you know, when all that heaven allows a person like me is hard graft and rat cunning.
LA FLÈCHE: Doing some business with the lord and master, are you?
FROSINE: Smoothing a little transaction, on commission, I hope.
LA FLÈCHE: Ha! From him? Ha! You’re a better man than me if you get something out of him. Money’s very expensive in this house, let me tell you.
FROSINE: There are certain services which work wonders.
LA FLÈCHE: No offence, but you don’t know my lord Harpagon. The lord Harpagon is, of all humans, the least human human, the most money-grubbing tight-fisted mortal of all the mortals that ever lived. The service hasn’t been invented that’ll make him grateful enough to open his purse. Compliment him, respect him, shower him with kindness, be as nice to him as you like, but money? Forget it. You’re in his good books? He’s your friend? Means nothing. He’s so allergic to the word “give” he won’t give you a “good morning”, but he’ll lend it to you.
FROSINE: Heavens above! I know how to handle men, I know how to pick the lock on the back door of their heart, how to tickle their fancies, find their soft spots.
LA FLÈCHE: Useless round here. Go on, you find a soft spot when it comes to his money, I defy you. Plus on top of that, he’s as cruel as Caligula. He’s more Caligula than Caligula. He wouldn’t blink for you if you were on your death bed. Not to put too fine a point, he loves money more than reputation, honour, and integrity, and the sight of a collector at the door gives him a Grand Mal. It’s a mortal wound, it’s a stab to the heart, it’s a ripping out of his gizzards, and so – he’s back and I’m off.
(LA FLÈCHE exits.)
Scene VI
(HARPAGON, FROSINE)
(HARPAGON, FROSINE)
(HARPAGON enters.)
HARPAGON: (to himself) All is as it should be. (to FROSINE) Now then, what is it, Frosine?
FROSINE: Heavens above! Aren’t you looking well! A veritable picture of health!
HARPAGON: Me?
FROSINE: I’ve never seen you looking so young and frisky.
HARPAGON: Truly?
FROSINE: Truly. You never looked younger in your life. I know twenty five year olds who look older than you.
HARPAGON: Be that as it may, I am well past sixty, Frosine.
FROSINE: You’re not! Well, what’s wrong with sixty? Sixty’s good! It’s the flower of age, when a man comes into the prime of his life.
HARPAGON: That is undoubtedly true, but being twenty years younger wouldn’t do me any harm.
FROSINE: You’re not serious. Why would you want that? You’ve got the right stuff to live to a hundred.
HARPAGON: Do you think so?
FROSINE: Absolutely. You’re showing all the signs. Hold still a moment. Oh! Look there. Between your eyes. The mark of long life.
HARPAGON: You are sure about that?
FROSINE: No doubt about it. Show me your hand. Heavens above! Look at the life line!
HARPAGON: What about it?
FROSINE: Can’t you see where the line goes?
HARPAGON: Yes! I can! What does it mean?
FROSINE: My godfather. Did I say a hundred? You’ll make a hundred and twenty!
HARPAGON: Is that possible?
FROSINE: They’ll have to beat you to death, I tell you. You’ll bury your children and your children’s children.
HARPAGON: All the better. How is our business progressing?
FROSINE: Must you ask? You know I don’t start what I can’t finish. And matchmaking just happens to be my most marvellous skill. Give me a little time, there aren’t two people in the world I can’t pair up, and I’m positive I could get the Grand Turk to marry the Venetian Republic if I put my mind to it, so there’s nothing very difficult about your little job, that’s for sure. I’ve contacted the women, I’ve talked to them about you, and I’ve told the mother how you felt intentions towards Mariane after seeing her in the street and at her window.
HARPAGON: What was her response?
FROSINE: She was delighted by your proposal. When I told her it was your fervent wish for her daughter to attend the signing of your own daughter’s marriage contract this evening, she agreed immediately and made me her chaperone.
HARPAGON: I find myself in a situation where I am unable to avoid providing Seigneur Anselme a supper, so I am happy for her to join us.
FROSINE: Very sensible. She’ll call on your daughter after dinner, go on after that to the fair – she’s desperate to go - and be back after that for supper.
HARPAGON: Very well. I will lend my carriage so they can go together.
FROSINE: That’ll suit her nicely.
HARPAGON: Now, Frosine. In your conversations with the mother, have you touched on the subject of the dowry? You have told her she must make some contribution, put in an effort, make sacrifices, on an occasion like this? To be blunt, no man marries a young girl unless she brings something with her.
FROSINE: Pardon me? This is a girl who’ll bring in twelve thousand a year.
HARPAGON: Twelve thousand a year!
FROSINE: Yes. In the first place, she’s been raised on a very strict diet: this is a girl accustomed to living on salad, milk, cheese, and apples, so she won’t be expecting a hearty table, or fancy gourmet broths, or de-husked barley, or any of the other delicacies women usually demand. And that’s no small thing: over time it could easily add up to three thousand Louis’ at least. On top of that, her tastes in other areas are also modest; she doesn’t like the fancy clothes or expensive jewellery or plush furniture that other girls her age get worked up about. That alone will be worth four thousand a year. And not only that: she absolutely detests gambling, very unusual in a woman today. I know of one right here in our quarter who lost twenty thousand playing cards. Just this year! Let’s assume only a quarter of that. Five thousand on cards a year, plus four thousand on clothes and jewellery, makes nine thousand, plus another three thousand on food..comes to twelve thousand a year, doesn’t it?
HARPAGON: Yes, and which does not sound too bad, except that these calculations are purely theoretical.
FROSINE: I beg your pardon. You’re gaining a modest appetite, a passionate love of simple dress, and the money accruing from a hatred of cardplaying, in one single marriage. What’s theoretical about that?
HARPAGON: It is a mockery to contrive a dowry out of expenses she will not incur. I do not give receipts for something I do not receive. I must have something I can hold in my hands.
FROSINE: Heavens above! You’ll get your hands on plenty. And they also told me they’ve got a huge fortune stashed in another country, so you’ll get that too.
HARPAGON: We will enquire about that. Now, there is another thing that concerns me, Frosine. The girl is young, as you know, and young people usually prefer, only want to be with, other young people. I fear she will not find a man my age attractive, leading to certain small unpleasantries, which would discomfort me.
FROSINE: Ah! Then you don’t know her! Here is yet another feature I was going to tell you about. She has a terrible aversion to young men, and only fancies old fellows.
HARPAGON: Does she?
FROSINE: Does she. If only you could’ve heard what she said. She just can’t stand the sight of a young man, yet nothing gives her more pleasure – that’s what she said – than to see a handsome, mature gentleman with an impressive beard. The older he is, the more attractive, so my advice to you is, don’t try to make yourself look younger than you are. She doesn’t fancy anyone under sixty. Only four months ago she was about to be married but left her husband-to-be at the altar after he let slip he was only fifty six and didn’t need spectacles to sign the contract.
HARPAGON: Just for that?
FROSINE: Yes. She says fifty six years is not enough to make her happy, and on top of that, she prefers the nose that wears spectacles.
HARPAGON: This is something completely new to me.
FROSINE: There’s more to it than I care to say. She has some paintings and engravings in her bedroom. Of who, or what, d’you think? The young Adonis? Cephales? Paris? Apollo? No. Fine portraits of old Saturn, King Priam, the aged Nestor, and good old father Anchise being carried on the shoulders of his son.
HARPAGON: How marvellous! Who would have thought it? Not me, certainly, and I am delighted to learn she is so inclined. Although the fact is, were I a woman, I would not find young men attractive either.
FROSINE: I completely agree. What perfectly useless specimens young men are to fall in love with. It’s beyond me how anyone could be attracted to these pretty snot-nosed dandies, these vain fresh-faced fops.
HARPAGON: I do not understand it myself. I do not know how some women fall for them.
FROSINE: They must be barking mad. To find young men desirable! Where’s their common sense? These swish little blond-wigged popinjays aren’t men. How can anyone fall for these creatures?
HARPAGON: I am forever saying that, what with their squeaky voices, their three little wispy whiskers curled up into a cat’s moustache, their sallow girly wigs, their droopy pantaloons, their studiously sloppy shirts..
FROSINE: Ha! A stylish look, when compared to a man like you! Now here we have a real man. Here we have something worth looking at. Here’s a man both built for, and dressed for, love.
HARPAGON: I am looking the part, am I?
FROSINE: I beg your pardon? You’re a highly desirable man. Your face is a work of art. Turn round, please? It doesn’t get any better. Let me see you walk. Here we have the well-proportioned figure, lithe and jaunty as you like, with not a sign of any disability.
HARPAGON: Nothing serious, thank God. A touch of bronchitis now and again, that is all.
FROSINE: That’s nothing. Your bronchitis isn’t at all offputting. There is a dignity in your cough.
HARPAGON: Tell me something. My Mariane, has she ever seen me? Perhaps noticed me in passing?
FROSINE: No. But we’ve discussed you in great detail. I’ve painted a fine picture of you, all the time stressing your good points and the advantages of marrying a man like you.
HARPAGON: You have done well, and I am grateful to you.
FROSINE: Sir, may I ask a small favour of you?
(HARPAGON becomes grim.)
FROSINE: I’m about to lose a lawsuit, all because I don’t have a small sum of money. You could help me win the case, if you were to be so kindly disposed. You simply won’t believe how excited she’ll be to see you.
(HARPAGON brightens.)
FROSINE: Oh, how delighted she’s going to be! How profoundly moving she will find your Henry IV pleated ruff. How, above all, she’ll be swept off her feet when she sees the way you hold up your pants by pinning them to your vest. It may be merely a funny little whim to you, but for her, a pinned-up lover will be a new and extraordinary experience.
HARPAGON: It overjoys me to hear you say that.
FROSINE: Truly, sir, this lawsuit has serious consequences for me.
(HARPAGON becomes grim.)
FROSINE: I’m ruined if I lose. All I need is a little help to get myself back on the rails. If you could only have witnessed her enchantment as she listened to me describe you.
(HARPAGON brightens.)
FROSINE: Her eyes sparkled in rapture as I listed your many fine qualities, and in the end, I left her quite desperate to conclude the marriage.
HARPAGON: You have made me a very happy man, Frosine, and for that I am forever in your debt, I swear it.
FROSINE: Sir, please, will you give me the small assistance I ask?
(HARPAGON becomes grim.)
FROSINE: Just to get me back on my feet. I will be eternally grateful.
HARPAGON: Goodbye. I have urgent correspondence to attend to.
FROSINE: Sir, I promise I never needed your help more than I do now.
HARPAGON: I shall order my carriage prepared for transporting you to the fair.
FROSINE: I wouldn’t trouble you if I could see any other way.
HARPAGON: I will ensure supper is served early so as not to upset your stomachs.
FROSINE: Please don’t refuse me this favour. You have no idea how happy -
HARPAGON: I have to run. Someone is calling me. Until later.
(HARPAGON exits.)
FROSINE: Go choke on the plague, tightarse! You lousy stinking dog, go to hell! The old skinflint dodged all my best shots. But I’m not done yet. There’s still the other lot, and they’ve guaranteed me a nice fat finder’s fee.
ACT III
Scene I
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, VALÈRE, DAME CLAUDE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, BRINDAVOINE, LA MERLUCHE)
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, VALÈRE, DAME CLAUDE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, BRINDAVOINE, LA MERLUCHE)
HARPAGON: Attention, if I might have all in here, now, I will issue the instructions for this evening, and assign you each your precise role. I will start with you, Dame Claude. Approach.
(DAME CLAUDE nears, holding a broom.)
HARPAGON: Good, I see you are armed and ready. You are charged with the cleaning, of everything, while taking care not to polish the furniture too hard as you will wear it out. I am also assigning you the responsibility of distributing bottles during supper, with the caveat that any loss or breakage will be deducted from your wages.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) A masterly deterrent.
HARPAGON: Off you go.
(DAME CLAUDE exits.)
Scene II
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, BRINDAVOINE, LA MERLUCHE)
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, BRINDAVOINE, LA MERLUCHE)
HARPAGON: Brindavoine and La Merluche, you I entrust with the task of rinsing glasses, and serving drinks, but only in the event that someone is thirsty, and not according to the custom of certain disreputable servants who actively encourage people to drink when they would not have dreamt of it themselves. You are to wait until they ask at least twice, and remember to top up with plenty of water.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) That’s right. Undiluted wine goes straight to the head.
LA MERLUCHE: Do we take off our aprons, Master?
HARPAGON: Yes, when you see the guests arriving, after which you will take all care not to soil your livery.
BRINDAVOINE: You do know I have a big oil stain on one side of my doublet, Master?
LA MERLUCHE: And the seat of my pants is so torn, Master, that, putting it politely, people will look up my -
HARPAGON: Settle down. (to LA MERLUCHE) You will keep your back to the wall, showing only your face, at all times.
(HARPAGON positions BRINDAVOINE’S hat in front of the stain on the doublet.)
HARPAGON: And you will position your hat in front of you, like so, while you serve.
(BRINDAVOINE and LA MERLUCHE exit.)
Scene III
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
HARPAGON: (to ÉLISE) You, my girl, you are to keep a close eye on whatever is cleared away, and see to it nothing is wasted. Which is work suitable for girls. In the meantime, you must ready yourself to welcome my beloved, who is calling to take you with her to the fair. Did you hear what I said?
ÉLISE: Yes, father.
(ÉLISE exits.)
Scene IV
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
HARPAGON: As for you, my prissy fop of a son, out of the goodness of my heart I am excusing what happened earlier, so you would do well to remove the sour look from your face in front of her.
CLÉANTE: Sour look? Me, father? What reason have I to look sour?
HARPAGON: Lord above! Everyone is well aware of the way children carry on when their fathers remarry, and how they give their stepmother the evil eye. However, if you want me to forget that little episode of yours, I strongly suggest you keep a cheerful smile on your face while offering the lady the kindest of all possible welcomes.
CLÉANTE: May I speak frankly, father? I cannot pledge delight that she is to become my stepmother, as were I to do so, I should be guilty of mendacity. However, as to making the lady kind welcome from behind a cheery expression, I am in this regard able to pledge punctilious obedience.
HARPAGON: Make sure that you do.
CLÉANTE: You will have no cause for complaint.
HARPAGON: That is most wise of you.
(CLEANTE exits.)
Scene V
(HARPAGON, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
HARPAGON: Valère, I will need your help in this. Ho there, Maître Jacques, come here, I have kept you for last.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Do you wish to speak to me your coachman, or me your cook, Master? I’m both.
HARPAGON: It is both I want.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Who do you want first?
HARPAGON: The cook.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Won’t be a minute, if you please.
(He removes his Coachman’s coat and dons his Cook’s apparel.)
HARPAGON: What sort of devilish ritual is this?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I await your command.
HARPAGON: Maître Jacques. I am obliged to provide a supper this evening.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) It’s a miracle!
HARPAGON: So tell me, you will see to it we dine well?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Yes, if you give me the money.
HARPAGON: Hell’s bells! Money! Always money! It is as if they have nothing else to say. “Money, money, money”. The only word they know is “money”. They are always talking about money. Why must they reduce everything to money?
VALÈRE: I’ve never heard a more insolent retort. As if to furnish a feast by spending a vast sum is some miraculous act! It’s the easiest thing in the world, even the most brainless fool can do it. But the man of true skill, he can furnish a feast without spending any money.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: A feast without spending any money!
VALÈRE: Yes.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Well, well, well, Mr Steward, you must let us in on your secret. Why don’t you take over as Cook? Seeing as you want to run everything round here, anyway.
HARPAGON: Silence. What do we need?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Ask Mr Steward here. He’s the one who can put on a feast without spending a bean.
HARPAGON: Hey! I want an answer from you.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: How many people?
HARPAGON: Eight to ten will dine. Therefore plan for eight. Enough for eight is plenty for ten.
VALÈRE: Of course it is.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Right then. You need four hearty meat or chicken dishes, cooked in the pot and tastily garnished, as well as five entrées. Pots: one bisque, one partridge and green cabbage, one duck with turnips, and one healthy one. Entrées: chicken fricassee, pigeon pie, veal sweetbreads, white sausage, and morel mushrooms.
HARPAGON: Are you insane? We are not feeding the whole town!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Then there’s the roasts. Served on grand platters, arranged in a pyramid: one large river-raised veal loin, three pheasants, three fattened fowls, a dozen aviary pigeons, a dozen grain-fed chickens, six young free-range rabbits, a dozen juvenile partridges, two dozen quail, three dozen ortolans -
(HARPAGON puts his hand over MAÎTRE JACQUES’ mouth.)
HARPAGON: You will eat me into the poorhouse, you decadent!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Desserts.
HARPAGON: There is more?
VALÈRE: Do you want the guests to explode? Has the Master invited people here to gorge themselves to death? Go study the precepts of good health, go inquire of the medical profession if there is anything more dangerous than eating to excess.
HARPAGON: Quite right.
VALÈRE: You must learn, Maître Jacques, you and your kind, that too much meat on a table is a shortcut to the grave; that the considerate method of caring for one’s guests is to serve Spartan fare; and that, as the old saying has it: “Eat to live, not live to eat”.
HARPAGON: Well said! Come here, I could kiss you for saying that. That is quite the most beautiful sentence I have ever heard. “Live to eat, and not eat to live”. Is that it, no? What did you say?
VALÈRE: “Eat to live, not live to eat.”
HARPAGON: Precisely.(to MAÎTRE JACQUES) Have you got that?
(to VALÈRE) Which great man said that?
VALÈRE: His name escapes me just now.
HARPAGON: Remember to write those words down for me. I want them engraved in gold over my sitting room hearth.
VALÈRE: I won’t forget. You may also entrust supper to me: I shall take care of everything.
HARPAGON: Please do.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: All the better. Less trouble for me.
HARPAGON: It is important to serve items that people do not often eat these days, and which fill them up quickly. Thick mutton stew bulked out with beans or turnips, beef pâté stuffed with chestnuts, that should do it.
VALÈRE: Leave it to me.
HARPAGON: Now, Maître Jacques, I require my carriage cleaned.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Hold on. You need to speak to the Coachman
(He puts his coat back on.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: You were saying?
HARPAGON: I require my carriage cleaned and the horses groomed for a drive to the fair.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Your horses, Master? Take my word, they’re in no condition to go anywhere. I can’t say they’re off their oats, because the poor creatures don’t get any, and I’d be exaggerating. But you keep them fasting on such slim pickings they’re nothing but shadows, just ghosts, with the appearance of horses.
HARPAGON: So they are not well then. But they do not do anything!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: So if they don’t do anything, they don’t get anything to eat, Master? Then the poor beasts would be better off working a lot, and eating a lot. It breaks my heart to see them so thin. I love my horses, and I suffer when they suffer. Every day I go without so I can feed them something. Master, it’s a hard man that doesn’t pity his fellow creatures.
HARPAGON: It is not hard work, just trotting to the fair.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: No, Master, I don’t have the heart to drive them, and I’d be ashamed to pull the whip, the state they’re in. How d’you expect them to pull a coach when they can’t even drag themselves along?
VALÈRE: I will arrange for your neighbour Le Picard to drive them, Master. We need his help in preparing the supper anyway.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Fine. I prefer they died under someone else’s hand than mine.
VALÈRE: Maître Jacques has an argumentative tongue.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Monsieur the Steward has a sticky beak.
HARPAGON: Quiet!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I can’t stand flatterers, Master. All this meddling in the bread, the wine, the wood, the salt, the candles, it’s plain as day the man is brown-nosing to curry your favour. That makes me mad, but what makes me ropeable is having to listen to what people say about you all the time, because when it comes down to it I’m fond of you, in spite of myself. I like you more than anybody, apart from my horses.
HARPAGON: Would you be so kind as to tell me what people say about me, Maître Jacques?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Yes, Master, if I could be sure it wouldn’t make you cross.
HARPAGON: It will not make me cross in any way.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Excuse me, but I’m confident you’ll be furious.
HARPAGON: Not at all. On the contrary, it will give me pleasure, for I delight in learning how I am regarded.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Since you asked, Master, I’ll tell you plainly: you are everywhere regarded with scorn; we can’t go anywhere without hundreds of insults and Harpagon jokes raining down on us; and nothing entertains the people more than splitting their sides at your expense and regaling themselves with endless stories about how tight you are. One of them says you’ve had special calendars printed with double the number of seasons and saints’ days, so you can make your household fast more. Another one tells of how you always start a quarrel with your servants at Christmas or when they’re leaving, so you’ve got a reason not to give them gifts. That one tells the story of how you served a writ on your neighbour’s cat for eating a leftover leg of mutton. This one recounts the night you were caught stealing oats from your own horses; and how your coachman – that’s the one before me - beat you up in the dark and you never said a word to anyone about it. What did you want me to say? I don’t know a single place where I won’t hear you completely rubbished. You’re the laughing stock and whipping boy of everybody, and no-one talks of you except to call you tightwad, stinge, skinflint, and miser.
(HARPAGON beats MAÎTRE JACQUES.)
HARPAGON: And you are a buffoon, a bandit, an ingrate
and an upstart!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: There you go! What did I say? But did you want to believe me? I clearly said you’d be furious if I told you the truth, I clearly said -
HARPAGON: You need to learn to keep a civil tongue in your head.
(HARPAGON exits.)
Scene VI
(MAÎTRE JACQUES, VALÈRE)
VALÈRE: It seems your honesty is not appreciated, Maître Jacques.
(MAÎTRE JACQUES, VALÈRE)
VALÈRE: It seems your honesty is not appreciated, Maître Jacques.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Gadzooks! You mind your own business, Mister Johnny-Come-Lately, Mr-I-Think-I’m-So-Important. Don’t you laugh at me, you save your sniggers for your own thrashings.
VALÈRE: Ah, my dear Maître Jacques, please, do not upset yourself.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) He’s sweet talking me. I’ll come on the hard man and if he’s dumb enough to be scared of me, I’ll belt him round a bit. (to VALÈRE) You get this into your head, Mr Laughing Boy: I’m not laughing, not me myself, am I? And you’ll be laughing out of the other side of your face if you stir me up.
(MAÎTRE JACQUES shoves VALÈRE menacingly around the room.)
VALÈRE: Hey. Go easy.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: What about go easy? What if I don’t want to go easy?
VALÈRE: For goodness sake.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: You have no respect.
VALÈRE: My dear Maître Jacques..
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Don’t bother buttering me up with your “my dear Maître Jacques”. If I find a stick, you’ll be on the end of the mother of all hidings.
VALÈRE: What did you say about a stick?
(VALÈRE in turn advances on MAÎTRE JACQUES, with menace.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I didn’t say anything.
VALÈRE: You need to understand, my foolish friend, that if anyone is to receive a thrashing, it will be you.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I understand that.
VALÈRE: Because in the grand scheme of things, you are nothing but a lowly, wretched cook.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I understand that too.
VALÈRE: Who knows nothing at all about me.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I do beg your pardon.
VALÈRE: You’d give me a thrashing, isn’t that what you said?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I was only making a joke.
VALÈRE: I do not appreciate your sense of humour, myself.
(He beats MAÎTRE JACQUES with a stick.)
VALÈRE: You need to learn what a poor comedian you are.
(VALÈRE exits.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: To hell with honesty! It’s an evil business. From this time on, I renounce it. I have no further desire to tell the truth. My Master’s my Master, so he’s got some right to beat me, but this Mr-High-And-Mighty-Steward, just give me the chance, and he’ll get his, in spades.
Scene VII
(FROSINE, MARIANE, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
(FROSINE, MARIANE, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
(MARIANE and FROSINE enter.)
FROSINE: Maître Jacques. Is your master in, d’you know?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Very much in. I know it only too well.
FROSINE: Please tell him we’re here.
(MAÎTRE JACQUES exits.)
Scene VIII
(MARIANE, FROSINE)
MARIANE: Oh, what a..strange..situation to be in, Frosine! To speak my heart, I am trembling at what lies ahead.
(MARIANE, FROSINE)
MARIANE: Oh, what a..strange..situation to be in, Frosine! To speak my heart, I am trembling at what lies ahead.
FROSINE: But why? What is there to tremble about?
MARIANE: Mercy! Need you ask? Can you not imagine the terror of a girl about to come face-to-face with the lifetime of torture to which she has been sentenced?
FROSINE: I understand Harpagon’s not the preferred torture for an enjoyable death. That young blond boy you told me about is still on your mind. I can see it in your face.
MARIANE: I do not wish to deny it, Frosine. The gracious manner in which he called on us, I swear it has touched my soul.
FROSINE: Have you found out who he is?
MARIANE: No. I have no idea who he is. I do know he has an attractive quality about him, and were the choice mine to make, I would rather have him than anyone else. He makes the husband they have chosen for me seem even more horrific.
FROSINE: Good God, girl! Yes, yes, all these young blond boys are very nice on the eye, and speak well of themselves,
but most of them are as poor as church mice. You get much better value marrying an old man with lots of money. I admit this approach doesn’t take much account of feelings, and you have to put up with a few distasteful little activities, but it’s not for long. And believe me, when he dies you’ll be well-placed to get a nicer one, who’ll make everything better.
MARIANE: Dear God, Frosine, what a peculiar business, waiting and wishing for someone to die, so that we may find happiness. Death does not always follow our plans.
FROSINE: You are joking? You marry him only on the express condition he promptly leaves you a widow. It must be stipulated in the contract. It’d be very inconsiderate of him not to die within three months. Speak of the devil.
MARIANE: Frosine. That face!
Scene IX
(HARPAGON, FROSINE, MARIANE)
(HARPAGON enters.)
HARPAGON: You won’t be offended, my sweet, if I receive you in my spectacles? I know your charms are most apparent to the naked eye, one certainly doesn’t need spectacles to appreciate them, but then again, with the aid of glass, may not one see the stars?, and you, oh let me assure you, I hold to be a star, of all stars the most beautiful star in a universe of stars. Frosine. She is not saying a word, nor it seems expressing any joy at seeing me.
FROSINE: She’s still overcome. Young girls are too shy to show their inner feelings, at first.
HARPAGON: Of course.
HARPAGON: (to MARIANE) Ah, my tiny beauty, here is my daughter come to welcome you.
Scene X
(ÉLISE, HARPAGON, MARIANE, FROSINE)
(ÉLISE, HARPAGON, MARIANE, FROSINE)
(ÉLISE enters)
MARIANE: I am late in paying my respects, Madame.
ÉLISE: You do that which I should have done first, Madame.
HARPAGON: A tall lass, isn’t she? Grew like a weed.
MARIANE: (under, to FROSINE) What a horrible man!
HARPAGON: What did my pretty one say?
FROSINE: How wonderful she finds you.
HARPAGON: You praise me too highly, my loveable little cutie.
MARIANE: (Aside) He’s an animal!
HARPAGON: How may I prove myself worthy of such affection?
MARIANE: (Aside) I can’t stand this any longer.
Scene XI
(ÉLISE, HARPAGON, MARIANE, FROSINE, CLÉANTE, BRINDAVOINE)
(ÉLISE, HARPAGON, MARIANE, FROSINE, CLÉANTE, BRINDAVOINE)
(CLÉANTE enters.)
HARPAGON: Ah! My son also comes to pay you his respects.
MARIANE: (aside, to FROSINE) Frosine! What sort of rendezvous is this? It’s him. The one I was telling you about.
FROSINE: What an amazing coincidence.
HARPAGON: I note your astonishment at finding I have such mature children, but I’ll shortly be rid of both of them.
CLÉANTE: Madame, I ask you to believe me when I say I had not at all anticipated such a meeting as this. When Father informed me of his intentions, but a short time ago, I was taken more than a little by surprise.
MARIANE: I must say the same. I share your surprise at such an unforeseen encounter. I was not prepared for such a coincidence.
CLÉANTE: In truth, Madame, my father could not have made a finer choice. The honour of meeting you is, to me, a tender joy. Having said that, I am unable to say I rejoice at the idea of you as my stepmother. The honour, I have to say, is too onerous to accept. Not to displease you, but it is a title I do not wish you to adopt. These words may seem blunt to some, but I am sure you will take them in the intended spirit, Madame; understand how repellent is this marriage to me; not dismiss the shock it sends to my own desires; and in the end allow me to say - with Father’s kind permission - that if it were up to me, this marriage would not take place.
HARPAGON: What sort of backhanded courtesy is this? What a lovely admission to make to the girl!
MARIANE: For my part, I feel very much the same way you do. If you are repelled by the thought of me as your stepmother, so am I equally repelled to think of you as my stepson. Please believe it was no intention of mine to bring you this distress. It would disturb me greatly to cause you sorrow. If it was at all in my power, I swear I would never consent to a marriage which made you unhappy.
HARPAGON: Well said. (to CLÉANTE) Foolish words warrant foolish reply. Beloved, I must apologise for the ill-manners of my son. He is young and stupid and still has no idea of the effect of his utterances on others.
MARIANE: I assure you he has said nothing at all which causes offence. On the contrary, it pleases me to hear him express his true feelings. I like it that he makes such declarations, for to speak otherwise would have diminished him in my eyes.
HARPAGON: It is exceedingly generous of you to forgive him his faults. Time will see him wiser, and you will enjoy a change in his feelings.
CLÉANTE: Never, father. Never. My emotions are immutable. I earnestly beseech Madame to believe this.
HARPAGON: How inane can he get? From bad to worse!
CLÉANTE: You would have me betray my heart?
HARPAGON: There’s more? Would you like to try a different tune?
CLÉANTE: Very well. Since you request a variation in approach, permit me, Madame, to place myself in my father’s footwear and promise I have never in all the world encountered anyone more charming, I can imagine nothing to equal the joy of pleasing you, and to be your husband is to me a fate more glorious, more blissful, than to be King Of All The World. Yes, Madame, the rapture in capture of your heart is to me the greatest prize of all and my every desire is located there. There is nothing I would not do to accomplish so precious a conquest, there exists no obstacle so insurmountable as could –
HARPAGON: Take it easy, son, please.
CLÉANTE: I am admiring the lady on your behalf.
HARPAGON: Good God! I have a tongue, I can speak for myself, I do not need a go-between. Go and fetch some chairs.
FROSINE: No. We’d do better to go to the fair right away, so we can come back earlier and have more time to get to know each other.
HARPAGON: (to BRINDAVOINE) Have the horses put on the carriage.
(BRINDAVOINE exits.)
Scene XII
(HARPAGON, ÉLISE, MARIANE, FROSINE, CLÉANTE, VALÈRE)
HARPAGON: (to MARIANE) Will you please excuse me, my beloved, for not thinking to offer you a little refreshment before you depart?
CLÉANTE: I have taken care of it, Father, and arranged for bowls of Chinese oranges, sweet lemons, and candied fruits to be served, on your account, Papa.
HARPAGON: (Under) VALÈRE!
VALÈRE: (to HARPAGON) He’s lost his mind.
VALÈRE: (to HARPAGON) He’s lost his mind.
CLÉANTE: Father is concerned it will not be sufficient, aren’t you? Will Madame please be so gracious as to pardon our inadequacy?
MARIANE: There was no need to go to such trouble for me.
CLÉANTE: Madame, have you ever seen a diamond brighter than the one on my father’s finger?
MARIANE: It does sparkle brilliantly.
(CLÉANTE takes the ring from HARPAGON and gives it to MARIANE.)
CLÉANTE: It demands to be seen at close quarters.
MARIANE: Oh, it is exquisite. It has the glow of fire.
(CLÉANTE blocks MARIANE as she tries to return the ring.)
CLÉANTE: No, no, Madame. It has found a true home in such beautiful hands. My Father makes a gift of it to you.
HARPAGON: I what - ?
CLÉANTE: You desire Madame to keep it as a token of your affection, don’t you, father?
HARPAGON: (Aside, to CLÉANTE) What are you playing at?
CLÉANTE: An excellent question! (to MARIANE) He insists I insist you accept it.
MARIANE: I can’t, really.
CLÉANTE: You don’t mean that, surely? He has absolutely no intention of taking it back.
HARPAGON (Aside) I’m getting angry!
MARIANE: It would be -
(CLÉANTE continues to prevent her returning the ring.)
CLÉANTE: No. You insult him, I tell you.
MARIANE: Please – ?
CLÉANTE: Absolutely not.
HARPAGON: (Aside) To hell with him!
(A plague on him/I hope he catches the plague!)
CLÉANTE: There, you see how your refusal humiliates him?
HARPAGON: (Under, to CLÉANTE) Miscreant!
CLÉANTE: See? You drive him to despair.
HARPAGON: (Under, to CLÉANTE, with menace.) Why do you torture me?
CLÉANTE: It is not my fault, Father. I am doing everything in my power to make her keep it. But she will not be moved.
HARPAGON: (Under, furious) Dissolute reprobate!
CLÉANTE: You are turning father against son, Madame.
HARPAGON: (Under, as before) Double-dealing dog!
CLÉANTE: You’re making him physically ill! For pity’s sake, Madame, refuse no more.
FROSINE: Heavens above! What a carry-on! Keep the ring if that’s what the gentleman wants.
MARIANE: I have no wish to upset you, so I will keep it for now. I shall return it at a more suitable time.
Scene XIII
(HARPAGON, MARIANE, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, FROSINE, BRINDAVOINE)
(HARPAGON, MARIANE, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, FROSINE, BRINDAVOINE)
(BRINDAVOINE enters.)
BRINDAVOINE: Master. There’s a man wishes to speak with you.
HARPAGON: Tell him I am busy and to come back later.
BRINDAVOINE: He says he has some money for you.
HARPAGON: Will you excuse me? I will be back shortly.
Scene XIV
(HARPAGON, MARIANE, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, FROSINE, VALÈRE, LA MERLUCHE)
(HARPAGON, MARIANE, CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, FROSINE, VALÈRE, LA MERLUCHE)
(As HARPAGON exits, LA MERLUCHE enters, running. They collide. HARPAGON is knocked to the ground.)
LA MERLUCHE: Master!
HARPAGON: I am dead!
CLÉANTE: Father? Are you hurt?
HARPAGON: My creditors must have paid the little rat to break my neck!
VALÈRE: It’s not serious.
LA MERLUCHE: Forgive me, master. I thought I was doing the right thing, hurrying.
HARPAGON: What are you doing here, you half-witted assassin?
LA MERLUCHE: Two of the horses have thrown shoes.
HARPAGON: Then get them to the farrier, now.
(LA MERLUCHE exits.)
CLÉANTE: While we wait for them to be shod, allow me to do the honours on your behalf, Father, and escort Madame into the garden, where I will have the light refreshment served.
(CLÉANTE, ÉLISE, MARIANE, FROSINE exit.)
Scene XV
(HARPAGON, VALÈRE)
(HARPAGON, VALÈRE)
HARPAGON: Valère. Keep a close eye on things, I entreat you, and rescue – gently- as much produce as possible for return to the market.
VALÈRE: Consider it done.
(VALÈRE exits.)
HARPAGON: You sorry excuse for a son. You’re determined to ruin me, aren’t you?
ACT IV
Scene I
(CLÉANTE, MARIANE, ÉLISE, FROSINE)
CLÉANTE: In here, we’re much safer. There’s no-one around and we can speak freely.
ÉLISE: Madame. My brother has confided in me and told me of his love for you. I know the sorrow and distress of similar difficulties, and let me say, with great fondness, you have my complete sympathy.
MARIANE: I find solace in the support of someone like you, Madame, and I pray you retain such a generous affection, which softens the cruelty of my fate.
FROSINE: Well, aren’t you a sorry pair for not telling me all this before? I would’ve organized things differently and spared you the grief.
CLÉANTE: What could you have done? This was ever my ill-starred destiny! But what about you, my beautiful Mariane? Have you come to any decision?
MARIANE: Mercy! What power do I have to decide anything? I am in thrall to others and all that remains to me are wishes.
CLÉANTE: Can your heart find nothing to offer me other than plain wishing? No compassionate understanding? No constructive show of kindness? No remedial affection?
MARIANE: What am I meant to say? What would you do in my shoes? Advise me. Order me! I put myself completely in your hands. I know you are too decent a man to ever demand of me anything improper or immoral.
CLÉANTE: Mercy! I can’t do a thing if I am compelled to stay within the deplorable limits of rigorous honour and scrupulous propriety.
MARIANE: What do you want me to do? Even if I were able to disregard the moral standards of my sex, I still have my mother to consider. She raised me with unceasing and enduring tenderness. I doubt I could allow myself to bring her sorrow. You do something. Get close to her. Devote all your attention to winning her round. I grant you permission to say and do whatever you want, and if after that, everything still comes down to me professing my love for you, then I shall willingly declare my feelings to her.
CLÉANTE: Frosine, dear Frosine, will you assist us?
FROSINE: My godfather! Need you ask? With all my heart I will. I’m really a soft touch, you know that. The Good Lord didn’t cast my soul in bronze and when I see people so truly and deeply in love, I am more than happy to help out any little way I can. The thing here is, how?
CLÉANTE: Do have a think, please.
MARIANE: Give us some ideas.
ÉLISE: Find a clever way to undo what you’ve done.
FROSINE: It’s not that easy. (to MARIANE) Your mother isn’t completely unreasonable, so, maybe I can talk her round, persuade her to bestow her gift on the son instead of the father. (to CLÉANTE) The main problem with that is, your father is your father.
CLÉANTE: So very true.
FROSINE: I’m saying he’ll be mightily vexed when he discovers he’s been rejected, and not in any mood to agree to you marrying his bride. What has to happen is he has to refuse you, Mariane. We must find a way to make him detest you.
CLÉANTE: You’re absolutely right.
FROSINE: Yes, I am, I know. So we have the end. But what in hell is the means? Hold on. If we can get some woman, a mature woman, to be my accomplice and play the part of an upper class lady – backed up by some quickly-cobbled-together retinue – and with an outlandish title – the Marquess or Viscountess of Lower Brittany, say – I think I could convince your father that this wealthy woman, with property, and a hundred thousand in cash, has fallen madly in love with him and is so keen to be his wife she’ll hand over her fortune in the marriage contract. I think that might get his attention. (to MARIANE) I know he loves you very much, but he loves money just that tiny bit more. Once he’s taken the bait, he’ll rush to agree to whatever you want, and it won’t matter when he finally gets a closer look at our Marquess and her trimmings, and wakes up.
CLÉANTE: It’s a devilishly clever plan.
FROSINE: Leave it to me. I’ve thought of just the person - a friend – who can carry it off.
CLÉANTE: You are assured of my gratitude, Frosine, if you succeed in this. In the meantime, sweet Mariane, let us please make a start to winning over your mother. Much would already be accomplished if we could only bring this marriage undone. For your part, I implore you, make every effort you possibly can, avail yourself of the power in her affection for you, deploy without hesitation every eloquent grace, all the overpowering charm, that Heaven has made to reside in your eyes and on your lips, omit nothing, not soft word, nor sweet entreaty, nor touching caress, and you will not be refused. Of that I am sure.
MARIANE: I will do everything I can, and not forget a thing.
(CLÉANTE kisses MARIANE’s hand.)
Scene II
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, MARIANE, ÉLISE, FROSINE)
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE, MARIANE, ÉLISE, FROSINE)
(HARPAGON enters.)
HARPAGON: (Aside) Aha! My son kissing the hand of his soon-to-be stepmother and his soon-to-be stepmother not protesting too much. Is there something more to this?
HARPAGON: (Aside) Aha! My son kissing the hand of his soon-to-be stepmother and his soon-to-be stepmother not protesting too much. Is there something more to this?
ÉLISE: Father’s here.
HARPAGON: The carriage is ready. You may leave whenever you like.
CLÉANTE: Since you are not going, I will drive them myself, Father.
HARPAGON: You are staying here. They will be fine on their own. I have need of you myself.
(FROSINE, MARIANE, ÉLISE exit.)
Scene III
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE)
HARPAGON: Well, then. What do you think of her? Apart from being your stepmother.
(HARPAGON, CLÉANTE)
HARPAGON: Well, then. What do you think of her? Apart from being your stepmother.
CLÉANTE: What do I think of her?
HARPAGON: Yes. Of her manner, her figure, her beauty, her intelligence.
CLÉANTE: So so. (Comme çi, comme ça.)
HARPAGON: Is that all?
CLÉANTE: May I be frank? She is not at all what I expected. Her manner is downright flirtatious, her figure is unfortunate, her looks are very average, and her intelligence is as common as muck. Don’t think I’m trying to put you off, Father. As far as stepmothers go, she suits me as much as any other.
HARPAGON: So what was that you were saying to her before?
CLÉANTE: A few sweet words on your behalf, to please you.
HARPAGON: You would not be after her yourself, would you?
CLÉANTE: Me? Not in the slightest.
HARPAGON: That is a shame. It throws cold water on an idea which recently sprang to mind. Seeing her here, just now, had me reflecting on my age and what people would say about my marrying a young girl, so I resolved to call it off, and as I had asked for her hand and given my word, I was about to give her to you instead, until you made it perfectly clear how much she repels you.
CLÉANTE: Give her to me?
HARPAGON: To you.
CLÉANTE: To marry?
HARPAGON: To marry.
CLÉANTE: Listen. It is true she is not precisely my type, but to please you, father, if it was what you wanted, I could convince myself to marry her, for you.
HARPAGON: For me? I am not as unreasonable as you think. I have no desire to force you into anything you don’t want.
CLÉANTE: No, no, no. Please, I desire to force myself, out of my love for you.
HARPAGON: No, no, no. A loveless marriage is not a happy union.
CLÉANTE: Love would follow, perhaps, father. Love is frequently the fruit of marriage, that’s what they say.
HARPAGON: No. It is not worth the risk from the male standpoint, and I do not want to be responsible for any unfortunate consequences. If only you had taken a fancy to her! I would have made every arrangement for you to marry her in my place! But it was not to be. So I shall stick to my original plan and marry her myself.
CLÉANTE: Ay! Dear Papa, since that is how things are, I must unlock my heart and disclose our secret. The truth is, I am in love with her, I have been since the moment I first saw her out walking, and intended very shortly to ask permission to marry her, until the revelation of your feelings obliged me to suppress mine, as I had no wish to displease you.
HARPAGON: Have you called on her?
CLÉANTE: I have, Father.
HARPAGON: Many times?
CLÉANTE: Enough. Given the available time.
HARPAGON: You were well received?
CLÉANTE: Oh yes, extremely well, without disclosing my name, hence Mariane’s surprise at seeing me here, just now.
HARPAGON: You have told her you love her, and intend to marry her?
CLÉANTE: In no uncertain terms. I have also made initial approach to her mother.
HARPAGON: Were you favourably received?
CLÉANTE: Yes. Most favourably.
HARPAGON: Does the girl feel the same way about you?
CLÉANTE: Oh, yes. If one may judge from outward show, I believe she views me quite favourably.
HARPAGON: (Aside) It gladdens me to have cracked this little conspiracy. And in precisely the manner I intended. (to CLÉANTE) Very well, son, as you wish to know how things stand, then get it into your head, if you do not mind, that you are to drop cold this love notion of yours, stop all your chasing round after the woman I intend to marry myself, and marry the one I choose for you to marry. And right away.
CLÉANTE: Ah! Right then, father, playing games with me, are you? Right then. Since things have come to this pretty pass, then let me just say that I will never give up my love for Mariane, there is no extreme to which I will not go to prevent your winning her, and even if you do gain her mother’s consent, there are Other Avenues of Assistance I may call on.
HARPAGON: What’s that supposed to mean, you bride-thieving rake! Where do you get the gall to trespass on my turf?
CLÉANTE: It is you who trespass on mine. I was there first.
HARPAGON: I am your father, am I not? Where is the respect?
CLÉANTE: Sons need not bow to fathers in this situation. Love bows to no-one.
HARPAGON: You will be bowing well and truly after I give you a good thrashing.
CLÉANTE: Your threats mean nothing to me. Nothing!
HARPAGON: You will give up Mariane.
CLÉANTE: Absolutely not.
HARPAGON: Fetch my stick. Now!
Scene IV
(MAÎTRE JACQUES, HARPAGON, CLÉANTE)
(MAÎTRE JACQUES, HARPAGON, CLÉANTE)
(MAÎTRE JACQUES enters.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Hey, hey, hey! Gentlemen. What’s going on? What’s gotten into you two?
CLÉANTE: I’m damned if I care!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (to CLÉANTE) Ah! Easy now, sir.
HARPAGON: Did you hear how he spoke to me? The hide!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (to HARPAGON) Master. If you please.
CLÉANTE: I shall not be moved.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: What? This is your father.
HARPAGON: Let me at him.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: What? This is your son. That’s how you talk to me.
HARPAGON: Maître Jacques, I would like you yourself to be judge of this, if only to demonstrate that I am in the right.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I have no objection. (to CLÉANTE) Move back a little.
HARPAGON: I am in love with a young woman and wish to marry her, yet this delinquent worm has the effrontery to be in love with her as well, and have designs on her in spite of my orders to the contrary.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Ah! He’s in the wrong there.
HARPAGON: Surely it is monstrous for a son to position himself as his father’s rival? Should he not show proper respect and keep his nose right out of my affairs?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: You’re quite right. Let me talk to him. You stay there.
(He goes to CLÉANTE, on the opposite side of the stage.)
CLÉANTE: Oh, yes, yes, very well. If he wants to let you be the judge, I have no reason to flinch. The author of the judgement is of no importance. I am happy to submit to your wisdom also, Maître Jacques.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s a great honour.
CLÉANTE: I am enamoured of a young lady, who responds in kind, and accepts with great joy my vow of love, whereupon my father sees fit to disrupt our love and propose to her himself!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: He’s in the wrong there. Definitely.
CLÉANTE: It is a disgrace to even dream of getting married at his age, yes? Is it proper to be still thinking about love? He should leave it to young men, yes?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: You’re quite right, he’s making a fool of himself. Let me have a word or two with him.
(He returns to HARPAGON)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Very well, then. Your boy’s not as peculiar as you make out, and is starting to see reason. He says he knows he must show more respect, he admits he got carried away in the heat of the moment, and says he’s happy to do whatever you want if you’ll only treat him a little more kindly and marry him off to someone who makes him happy.
HARPAGON: Ah! In that case, tell him he may count on my complete support, Maître Jacques, and, with the exception of Mariane, I grant him freedom to marry anyone he wants.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Leave it to me.
(He goes to CLÉANTE.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Very well, then. Your father’s not as unreasonable as you think. He says it was your anger that made him angry, that it’s only the way you go about things that upsets him, and he’s happy to do whatever you want if you’ll just treat him a little more kindly, with the respect and obedience a son should show his father.
CLÉANTE: Ah! Then you may assure him, Maître Jacques, if he grants me Mariane, he will see me the most respectful of sons, now and for always. I will do any and every thing he desires.
(MAÎTRE JACQUES goes to HARPAGON.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s all sorted out. He agrees to everything.
HARPAGON: You have made the world a better place.
(MAÎTRE JACQUES goes to CLÉANTE.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s all sorted out. He’s gratified by your undertakings.
CLÉANTE: Praise the Lord!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Gentlemen. All you have to do now is talk to each other, for you are in agreement. Your quarrel was founded on a misunderstanding.
CLÉANTE: Dear, dear Maître Jacques. I am forever in your debt.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s nothing, sir.
HARPAGON: You have made me a happy man, Maître Jacques, and should be rewarded.
(He reaches into his pocket. And takes out a handkerchief.)
HARPAGON: Off you go then. I will not forget this, I promise you.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Thank you, master.
(MAÎTRE JACQUES exits.)
Scene V
(CLÉANTE, HARPAGON)
CLÉANTE: Forgive me, father, for the consternation I have caused.
(CLÉANTE, HARPAGON)
CLÉANTE: Forgive me, father, for the consternation I have caused.
HARPAGON: It is nothing.
CLÉANTE: I am sorry in the extreme. I swear it.
HARPAGON: I am happy in the extreme, myself, to see you so reasonable.
CLÉANTE: You are most generous to forgive me so quickly.
HARPAGON: It is easy to forgive your children when they remember their duty.
CLÉANTE: Oh! And you harbour no lingering resentment at my outrageous behaviour?
HARPAGON: I am bound to forgive and forget, as you respect and obey.
CLÉANTE: Dear Father. I promise I shall carry the memory of your kindness deep in my heart until the day I die.
HARPAGON: For myself, I promise you this: there is nothing I will not do for you.
CLÉANTE: Ah! Dear Papa, what more may I ask of you? You give me more than enough in giving me Mariane.
HARPAGON: Repeat?
CLÉANTE: I am saying, dear father, that you make me deliriously happy, for your kindness gives me everything I ever wanted and more in giving me Mariane.
HARPAGON: Who said anything about giving you Mariane?
CLÉANTE: You, father.
HARPAGON: Me?
CLÉANTE: Of course.
HARPAGON: What? You’re the one who promised to give her up.
CLÉANTE: Me? (Moi?) Give her up?
HARPAGON: Yes.
CLÉANTE: Never.
HARPAGON: You are not giving her up?
CLÉANTE: Quite the contrary. I have never been more determined to marry her.
HARPAGON: What? Are you starting up again, you callow deviant!?
CLÉANTE: Nothing will ever change my mind.
CLÉANTE: Nothing will ever change my mind.
HARPAGON: I will make you change it, you misbegotten rat!
CLÉANTE: You may do whatever you please.
HARPAGON: Get out of my sight for good.
CLÉANTE: With pleasure.
HARPAGON: I renounce you.
CLÉANTE: Renounce away.
HARPAGON: You are no longer my son.
CLÉANTE: So be it.
HARPAGON: I disinherit you.
CLÉANTE: If it makes you happy.
HARPAGON: I give you only my curse.
CLÉANTE: Keep your gifts.
(HARPAGON exits)
Scene VI
(LA FLÈCHE, CLÉANTE)
(LA FLÈCHE enters from the garden, carrying a cashbox.)
LA FLÈCHE: Ah! There you are, sir, just in time. Follow me. Quick!
CLÉANTE: What is it?
LA FLÈCHE: Follow me, I tell you. We’re in luck.
CLÉANTE: How - ?
LA FLÈCHE: I’ve got just what you need.
CLÉANTE: What is it?
LA FLÈCHE: Had my eye on it all day.
CLÉANTE: But what is it?
LA FLÈCHE: Your father’s stash. I’ve filched it.
CLÉANTE: How did you manage that?
LA FLÈCHE: I’ll tell you all about it. Let’s get out of here first. I can hear him howling.
(CLÉANTE and LA FLÈCHE exit.)
Scene VII
(HARPAGON shouts from the garden, then enters, without his hat.)
(HARPAGON shouts from the garden, then enters, without his hat.)
HARPAGON: Stop thief! Stop thief! Halt, assassin! Halt, murderer! Justice, oh merciful God! It is all over, I am dead, my throat has been slit, they have stolen my money! Who can have done this? Where has he gone? Where is he? Where is he hiding? How can I find him? Which way do I go? Which way don’t I go? Is he over there? Is he over here? Who is that? Halt!
(He grabs his own arm.)
HARPAGON: Give me back my money, you thieving dog! Ah! That is me. I am losing my mind. I do not know where I am or who I am or what I am doing. Ye gods! My poor dear money, my poor dear precious money, my beloved friend, they have taken you away from me. Since you’ve been gone, I’ve lost all my strength, all my comfort, all my joy. It’s all over for me, I have no further use for this world: life is impossible without you. I cannot go on, and that is a fact. I am dying, I am dead, I am buried. Is there no-one able to breathe life into me by giving me back my beloved money, or telling me who took it? Eh? What do you say? It is no-one. Whoever did it must have waited for their moment: they chose precisely the time I was talking with my traitor’s dog of a son. On with it, then. I seek justice and demand the entire household questioned under torture. Servants, valets, my son, my daughter, and myself as well.
(He scans the audience.)
HARPAGON: What a rabble! I cannot spot a single person who is not suspicious, they all look like thieves. Eh? What is that you are discussing over there? Which one of you robbed me? What is that noise up there? My thief, is it? Please, if anyone knows anything then tell me, I beg of you. He is hiding among you, is he not? They are looking at me, all of them, and starting to laugh. You see, they are all in it up to their necks, the theft, without a shadow of a doubt. Come on then! Get on with it commissioners, police, magistrates, judges, rack operators, gallowsmakers and hangmen. I want them all strung up. (String up the lot of them!) And if I do not get my money back, I shall string myself up afterwards.
ACT V
Scene I
(HARPAGON, POLICE OFFICER)
OFFICER: Just leave it to me, I know my job, praise God. This is not my first foray into the investigation of a larceny. I’d like a sackful of Louis’ for every neck I’ve stretched.
HARPAGON: Every judge, every magistrate in the land should be vigorously pursuing this matter. If my money and I are not reunited, I will demand justice itself be put on trial!
OFFICER: There is procedure to be followed. How much did you say was in the cashbox?
HARPAGON: Ten thousand. In cash.
OFFICER: Ten thousand!
HARPAGON: (Tearful) Ten thousand.
OFFICER: Not a bad haul.
HARPAGON: The torture sufficiently terrible to fit the enormity of this crime has not been invented, and should it go unpunished, then nothing, no matter how sacred, will ever be safe again.
OFFICER: Denominations? The money. In what denominations?
HARPAGON: Full weight gold Louis’, in mint condition.
OFFICER: Do you suspect anyone?
HARPAGON: I suspect everyone. I want the entire town and surrounding suburbs placed under arrest.
OFFICER: The way to proceed, if you’ll heed my professional opinion, is not to alarm the citizens, but to tread softly softly, gather the evidence, then come down with the full weight of the law and recover the missing loot.
Scene II
(MAÎTRE JACQUES, HARPAGON, POLICE OFFICER)
(MAÎTRE JACQUES, HARPAGON, POLICE OFFICER)
(MAÎTRE JACQUES enters, calling over his shoulder.)
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I’ll be back! Cut his throat for me right away, sear his feet, put him in boiling water, and hang him from the rafters.
HARPAGON: My thief?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: A suckling pig your steward sent me, so I can cook up my dream recipe for you.
HARPAGON: What has that to do with anything? The officer here wants to talk to you about something else altogether.
OFFICER: No need for alarm. I’m not a man given to scandalizing my suspects. Do everything on the quiet, I do.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Is sir staying for supper?
OFFICER: It is important you hold nothing back from your master, my friend.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Of course, sir! I’ll show you the full range of my skills, sir. I’ll serve you up the best I possibly can.
HARPAGON: That has nothing to do with anything!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: If the meal doesn’t come up to my usual high standard, blame Monsieur your Steward for clipping my wings with the scissors of his budget.
HARPAGON: This has nothing to do with your supper, you perfidious swine! I want you to tell me what you know about my stolen money.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Has your money been stolen?
HARPAGON: Yes, you bandit dog, and I’ll see you twist in the wind if you do not return it.
OFFICER: Lord above! Don’t bully the man excessively. I can tell from his face he’s an honest fellow and won’t require a period of incarceration to make him confess. So confess, my friend. Give us something, it will go well for you, and you’ll be suitably rewarded by your master. Someone’s purloined his savings today and I know you know something about it.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) The perfect opportunity to get back at our Monsieur the Steward, Monsieur the Master’s Pet, Monsieur-the-only-one-anyone-ever-listens-to-ever-since-he-got-here. I still wear scars on my heart from this afternoon’s beating.
HARPAGON: What are you muttering?
OFFICER: Leave him be. He’s preparing himself to give you satisfaction, and show I was right in alleging he was an honest man.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Master, if you really want to know, I believe it was Monsieur your beloved Steward who did this deed.
HARPAGON: Valère?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Yes.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Yes.
HARPAGON: Him? Who seems so loyal?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Him himself. He’s the one who robbed you, I’m sure of it.
HARPAGON: On what grounds do you suspect him?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: On what grounds?
HARPAGON: Yes.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I suspect him on the grounds that..he’s suspicious.
OFFICER: It is vital you present your evidence.
HARPAGON: Have you seen him lurking near where I hid my money?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Yes, I have, that’s right! Where was your money?
HARPAGON: In the garden.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: That’s right! That’s where I saw him lurking. In the garden. What was the money in?
HARPAGON: A cashbox.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: There you are! I saw him with a cashbox.
HARPAGON: What was it like, this cashbox? Mine is easily identified.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: What was it like?
HARPAGON: Yes.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It was like..like..a cashbox.
OFFICER: That goes without saying. Can you describe it a little more?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s a big cashbox.
HARPAGON: The one stolen from me is small.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Ah! Yes. It is small, if you go by how big it is. I’m talking about what’s inside it.
OFFICER: What colour is it?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: What colour?
OFFICER: Yes.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s coloured..a particular colour.. what’s it called? Help me out?
HARPAGON: Eh?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s not red, is it?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: It’s not red, is it?
HARPAGON: It’s grey.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Ah! Yes! Grey-red! That’s what I was trying to say.
HARPAGON: There is no doubt. It is definitely the one. Write it down then, officer, take his deposition. Lord above! Who may I trust now? Nothing is certain any more; from this moment on, I become a man convinced I am capable of stealing from myself!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Master, here he is. Don’t let on it was me who exposed him, if it’s all right with you.
Scene III
(VALÈRE, HARPAGON, POLICE OFFICER, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
(VALÈRE, HARPAGON, POLICE OFFICER, MAÎTRE JACQUES)
(VALÈRE enters.)
HARPAGON: Come here, you. Come and confess to the darkest deed, the foulest offence, as was ever committed.
VALÈRE: What was it you wanted, Master?
HARPAGON: What, you iniquitous snake! Are you not ashamed of your crime?
VALÈRE: To which crime are you referring..?
HARPAGON: To which crime am I referring, you vile footpad? As if you have not the foggiest idea what I’m talking about! It is pointless to play dumb with me, the game is up, a certain someone has revealed all. How could you abuse my generosity by toadying your way into my house for the express purpose of knifing me in the back with a stunt like this?
VALÈRE: Master, as someone has revealed all, I will offer no excuses nor deny a thing.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) Oh, ho! I’m a clairvoyant.
VALÈRE: I had planned to speak to you and awaited the appropriate moment, but as I have been overtaken by events, I entreat you: kindly stay your anger and hear what I offer in my defence.
HARPAGON: What fancy excuses can you offer, you loathsome larcenist?
VALÈRE: Master, I do not merit such descriptions. It is true I have committed an offence against you, but, in the end, a pardonable one.
HARPAGON: What do you mean, pardonable? A pardonable ambush? A pardonable blade in the back?
VALÈRE: Please, do not upset yourself. Hear me out and you will find your injury nowhere near as hurtful as you make out.
HARPAGON: Nowhere near as hurtful as I make out? Repeat? My blood spilt, my very entrails torn from me, you criminal?
VALÈRE: Your blood has not spilled into lowly hands, Master. My station will not allow me to wrong you, and there is nothing in any of this for which I cannot make full amend.
HARPAGON: It is precisely my intention you make amends by returning everything you have taken from me.
VALÈRE: Your honour shall be completely satisfied, Master.
HARPAGON: Honour has nothing to do with it. So, enlighten me: what got into you to do such a thing?
VALÈRE: Good Lord! You need to ask?
HARPAGON: Of course I need to ask!
VALÈRE: I obeyed the god who pardons all that he compels. Love.
HARPAGON: Love?
VALÈRE: Yes.
HARPAGON: Sweet love, oh yes, sweet love indeed! Sweet love for my sweet gold Louis’.
VALÈRE: No, Master, it was not your wealth which tempted me, that’s not what dazzled my eyes, and I swear I have no interest in your fortune, as long as you let me keep the treasure I already possess.
HARPAGON: I will do nothing of the sort. By all the devils in hell, I will not let you keep it! What audacity is this, asking to keep what he has stolen?
VALÈRE: You cannot really call it stealing?
HARPAGON: Cannot call it stealing, a treasure like that?
VALÈRE: Oh, a treasure, to be sure, and your most precious, without doubt, but one not lost to you in becoming mine. I implore you, on my knees, grant me this most enchanting of treasures. It is only right that you should.
HARPAGON: I shall do no such thing. Do you know what you are saying?
VALÈRE: We have sworn a solemn oath to each other, and vowed never to part.
HARPAGON: What a marvellous oath! What a lovely vow!
VALÈRE: Yes, we are bound to one another, for eternity.
HARPAGON: And I swear I am bound to prevent you.
VALÈRE: We shall only be parted in death.
HARPAGON: My money has gone to his head!
VALÈRE: I have already stated my motive was not material, Master. My heart is fired not by what you think, but impelled by far nobler motive.
HARPAGON: Now we see! He is after my money in the spirit of Christian charity! We shall see about that. The law will sort you out, my light-fingered ingrate.
VALÈRE: You must act as you see fit. I am ready to suffer any pain you care to inflict, and ask only that if some offence has been committed, please know the blame lies solely with me, and that your daughter is completely innocent.
HARPAGON: Of course I know that, I know that very well. It would be quite unnatural for my daughter have any part in this crime. Now, I would like what is mine restored, so, confess, where have you hidden my treasure?
VALÈRE: Me? I have not hidden anything anywhere. We have not left the house.
HARPAGON: (Aside) My beloved cashbox! (to VALÈRE) You have not left the house?
VALÈRE: No, Master.
HARPAGON: Ah! Then tell me this: you have not..tampered with anything?
VALÈRE: I beg your pardon? Tampered? Oh, you wrong us both! Ours is a love so completely pure, so thoroughly virtuous, that I am positively inflamed by it.
HARPAGON: (Aside) He is inflamed by my cashbox.
VALÈRE: I would sooner die than harbour any dishonourable thought about one too sensible, too virtuous, for that kind of thing.
HARPAGON: (Aside) My cashbox is too virtuous.
VALÈRE: Simply to feast my eyes on her contents my every desire. No base thought has sullied the passion her beautiful eyes inspire.
HARPAGON: (Aside) My cashbox has beautiful eyes. He speaks like a lover of his mistress!
VALÈRE: Dame Claude knows the truth of the matter, Master. She can verify it to you.
HARPAGON: What? My maidservant is a co-conspirator in this affair?
VALÈRE: Yes, Master. She was witness to our vows. Once she saw my intentions were honorable, she helped me persuade your daughter to give me her pledge, and receive mine in return.
HARPAGON: (Aside) Eh? Has fear of the law pushed him over the edge? (to VALÈRE) Why do you cloud the issue with mention of my daughter?
VALÈRE: Master. I am saying: only with the greatest difficulty was I able to convince her chaste soul to entertain my love.
HARPAGON: Whose chaste soul?
VALÈRE: Your daughter’s. It was not until yesterday she resolved to sign our promise of marriage to each other.
HARPAGON: My daughter has signed a promise to marry you?
VALÈRE: Yes, Master, as I have signed to marry her.
HARPAGON: My God! Another scandal!
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (to OFFICER) Write it down, sir, write it down.
HARPAGON: Evil upon evil! Despair upon despair! Do it, sir, carry out the duty of your office, draw up the indictment and arrest him as both a thief, and a seducer.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: As both a thief and a seducer.
VALÈRE: I have done nothing to warrant such accusations, and when you learn just who I am –
Scene IV
(ÉLISE, MARIANE, FROSINE, HARPAGON, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, POLICE OFFICER)
(ÉLISE, MARIANE, FROSINE, HARPAGON, VALÈRE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, POLICE OFFICER)
(ÉLISE, MARIANE, and FROSINE enter.)
HARPAGON: Aha! You wicked girl! You, daughter, are unworthy of a father like me! This is how you put into practice all the lessons I have taught you? By allowing yourself to fall in love with a notorious thief, then becoming engaged to him without my consent? Well, the two of you have outsmarted each other now. (to ÉLISE) From hereon in, convent walls will govern your behaviour. (to VALÈRE) And a pretty gallows will compensate me for your audacity!
VALÈRE: Your fury will not be judge of this, for I will be heard, at least, before I am condemned.
HARPAGON: I was mistaken when I said you would swing. You will be broken on the wheel.
ÉLISE: (On her knees) Dear father, please, show a little humanity, and don’t push parental rights to drastic extremes. Don’t let yourself be swept away by the first wave of anger. Take time to think about what you’re doing. Take trouble to look more closely at the man who angers you. He is not what you think, at all. You will more easily understand why I promised myself to him when you know that, but for him, you would have lost me long ago. Yes, dear Papa, this is the man who saved me from drowning - remember when I fell into the sea? - and to whom you owe your daughter’s life.
HARPAGON: That is nothing, nothing. I would prefer he had left you to drown than do what he has done now.
ÉLISE: Father, I beg you, if you love me at all..
HARPAGON: No, no. I do not want to hear any more. The law must take its course.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: (Aside) This will teach you to beat me.
FROSINE: (Aside) We have ourselves a spot of bother.
Scene V
(ANSELME, HARPAGON, ÉLISE, MARIANE, VALÈRE, FROSINE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, POLICE OFFICER)
(ANSELME, HARPAGON, ÉLISE, MARIANE, VALÈRE, FROSINE, MAÎTRE JACQUES, POLICE OFFICER)
(ANSELME enters.)
ANSELME: What is the trouble, Seigneur Harpagon? You seem very..emotional.
HARPAGON: Ah! Seigneur Anselme, you see before you the most unfortunate of men. A mountain of distress and disturbance has arisen over the contract you are here to sign! My fortune and my honour have both suffered deadly assault. This serpent, this viper, has violated every sacred duty by slithering into my home in the guise of a servant, so as to steal my money and seduce my daughter.
VALÈRE: No-one cares about your money, so why babble on and on about it?
HARPAGON: They have become engaged. These two. To each other. You have been insulted, Seigneur Anselme, it is up to you to take legal action and pursue all available avenues of justice, at your expense, in avenging this outrage.
ANSELME: I have no desire to force anyone to marry me, nor make claim on a heart already given elsewhere. Where your own interests are concerned, however, I stand ready to embrace them as my own.
HARPAGON: This gentleman, this honest officer, assures me he will leave no stone unturned in the execution of his duty. (to OFFICER) Throw the book at him, sir, give the hardened criminal his just desserts.
VALÈRE: I still can’t see the crime in loving your daughter! As for wanting me tortured for becoming engaged to her, when you learn just who I am –
HARPAGON: Your silly stories make me laugh. The world today teems with faux aristocracy, brazen fraudsters taking advantage of their own insignificance to clad themselves in the first illustrious name they can lay their hands on.
VALÈRE: Then understand this: my heart is too noble to allow me anything not rightfully mine, and the entire population of Naples is witness to my birthright.
ANSELME: Steady on! Take care where your tongue leads you. You are in deeper water than you think, for you speak in the presence of someone highly familiar with Naples, who will see through any story you concoct, with ease.
VALÈRE: (Proudly donning his hat) I have nothing to fear. If you are highly familiar with Naples, then you know who Dom Thomas d'Alburcy was.
ANSELME: Indeed, I do. Few have known him better.
HARPAGON: I don’t care about Dom Thomas. Or Dom Martin either.
(He notices two candles burning. Extinguishes one.)
ANSELME: Let him speak, if you don’t mind, let’s hear what he has to say.
VALÈRE: I have this to say: he was my father.
ANSELME: He was?
VALÈRE: Yes.
ANSELME: Come now, you are making a fool of yourself. Try some other story and you might have more success. You are deluded if you think to save yourself with this confection.
VALÈRE: Think before opening your own mouth. This is no tale. And I claim nothing that is not easily proven.
ANSELME: What? You dare claim to be the son of Dom Thomas d'Alburcy?
VALÈRE: Indeed, I dare it, and am ready to uphold the truth of it against anyone claiming otherwise.
VALÈRE: Indeed, I dare it, and am ready to uphold the truth of it against anyone claiming otherwise.
ANSELME: The brazenness boggles the mind! Now hear, and be astounded. The man to whom you refer, along with his wife and children, was drowned in the ocean over sixteen years ago, while the family were fleeing for their lives from the barbarous persecutions of the Naples uprising, when so many noble families were driven into exile.
VALÈRE: Indeed. Now you yourself hear, and be astounded. His seven year old son and a servant were rescued from the shipwreck by a Spanish vessel, and it is that son who talks to you now. Hear also that the captain of the ship, touched by my ill fortune, took pity and raised me as his own son; that I pursued a career in the army from the moment I was old enough; that only recently did I learn my father was not dead, as I believed; that setting out to look for him, chance and the grace of God carried me here, where my eyes fell on the fair Élise; that I was enchanted by her beauty; and that the power of love, and her father’s tyranny, persuaded me to take up service in his house, and send someone else to search for my parents.
ANSELME: That is easy to say, but have you any proof this is not all a fairytale founded on a grain of truth?
VALÈRE: The Spanish captain. A ruby signet ring which belonged to my father. An agate bracelet my mother put on my arm. Old Pedro, the servant who was pulled from the shipwreck with me.
MARIANE: Praise God! You speak the truth! I can vouch for it myself. Every word you say makes me see it more clearly: you are my brother.
VALÈRE: You are my sister?
MARIANE: Yes. My heart felt a shiver the moment you opened your mouth. Our mother – who is in for a shock - has told me the story of our family misfortune a thousand times. The Good Lord saw to it we did not perish in that awful shipwreck either, but at the cost of our freedom, for Mother and I were picked up off floating debris by pirates. Ten years of slavery later, fortune smiled and gave us back our liberty, and we returned to Naples to find all our possessions sold and no word of father’s fate. Whereupon we sailed to Genoa where Mother claimed what little remained of the inheritance her family had squandered, and then, to escape the brutal unfairness of her parents, she fled to this corner of the world, where she has been languishing ever since.
ANSELME: Dear God in Heaven! Here we see the manifestation of your power! Here we see how you alone can work miracles! Come into my arms, my children, and let your happiness mingle with that of your fater.
VALÈRE: You are our father?
MARIANE: The man mother has shed so many tears over, is you?
ANSELME: Yes, dear daughter, yes, dear son, I am Dom Thomas d'Alburcy, whom the Good Lord also snatched from the waves, along with all the money I had with me, and who, after sixteen long years believing you all dead, and much wandering, was on the verge of seeking the consolation of a new family via marriage to a sweet and sensible woman. I feared for my life if I returned to Naples and so, turning my back forever, I found a way to sell off all I had, came here to live, took the name Anselme, and sought to assuage all the sorrow the other name had brought down upon me.
HARPAGON: This is your son?
ANSELME: Yes.
HARPAGON: I hold you liable for repaying the ten thousand Louis’ he stole from me.
ANSELME: He stole from you?
HARPAGON: Him. Himself.
VALÈRE: Who told you that?
HARPAGON: Maître Jacques.
VALÈRE: Did you tell him that?
MAÎTRE JACQUES: I never said a word!
HARPAGON: You did so. The officer here took his statement.
VALÈRE: How can you believe me capable of such a despicable act?
HARPAGON: Capable, incapable, I want my money back.
Scene VI
(CLÉANTE, VALÈRE, MARIANE, ÉLISE, FROSINE, HARPAGON, ANSELME, MAÎTRE JACQUES, LA FLÈCHE, POLICE OFFICER)
(CLÉANTE, VALÈRE, MARIANE, ÉLISE, FROSINE, HARPAGON, ANSELME, MAÎTRE JACQUES, LA FLÈCHE, POLICE OFFICER)
(Enter CLÉANTE and LA FLÈCHE.)
CLÉANTE: You may calm down, father, and cease hurling accusations at all and sundry. I have uncovered certain information regarding this affair, and am here to tell you that, providing you allow me to marry Mariane, all your money will be returned.
HARPAGON: Where is it?
CLÉANTE: You need not concern yourself with that. I know exactly where it is, the situation is completely under my control. What you must do, is make up your mind, and choose to give me Mariane, or lose your cashbox.
HARPAGON: No-one has removed anything?
CLÉANTE: Nothing at all. So, decide then, if it suits you to accept this marriage and add your consent to that of Mariane’s mother, who has left her daughter free to choose between the two of us.
MARIANE: But can’t you see her consent is not enough now? Not since God returned not only my brother, but also my father, and he has to give his permission now?
ANSELME: My dear children, the Lord has not returned me to stand in the way of your heartfelt desires. Seigneur Harpagon, you surely know a young girl will more than likely choose the son over the father. Come, do not cause to be said what nobody wishes to hear. Join me in consenting to this double marriage.
HARPAGON: I cannot think clearly until I see my cashbox.
CLÉANTE: You shall see it, safe and sound.
HARPAGON: I have no money to give my children in marriage.
ANSELME: Never mind. I have enough for all. Do not trouble yourself.
HARPAGON: You guarantee to cover the costs of both marriages?
ANSELME: Yes, I guarantee. Are you content?
HARPAGON: I am, if you buy me a new outfit for the wedding.
ANSELME: Done. Now let us go and enjoy the delight of this happy day!
OFFICER: Hold on, Gentlemen! Hold on! Easy does it, if you don’t mind. Who’s paying for my depositions?
HARPAGON: Your depositions are nothing to do with us.
OFFICER: That may be. But I’m not working for free, not me.
HARPAGON: See that fellow there?
(He points at MAÎTRE JACQUES.)
HARPAGON: String him up for your payment.
MAÎTRE JACQUES: Eh? What am I meant to do? They thrash me for telling the truth, then they hang me for lying.
ANSELME: Seigneur Harpagon, we must forgive the man his mendacity.
HARPAGON: You’ll pay the officer then?
ANSELME: Yes, yes, very well. Let us go then, quickly, to share our joy with your Mother.
HARPAGON: And me, to see my beloved cashbox.
THE END
Translation © TIM GOODING
11 June 2004