Мольер (Жан-Батист Поклен)
The Pretentious Young Ladies
MAD. Impertinent creature! How can this be borne! And who is this footman's master?
MAR. He told me it was the Marquis de Mascarille.
MAD. Ah, my dear! A marquis! a marquis! Well, go and tell him we are visible. This is certainly some wit who has heard of us.
CAT. Undoubtedly, my dear.
MAD. We had better receive him here in this parlour than in our room.
Let us at least arrange our hair a little and maintain our reputation.
Come in quickly, and reach us the Counsellor of the Graces.
MAR. Upon my word, I do not know what sort of a beast that is; you must speak like a Christian if you would have me know your meaning.
CAT. Bring us the looking-glass, you blockhead! and take care not to contaminate its brightness by the communication of your image.
SCENE VIII. – MASCARILLE, TWO CHAIRMEN
MASC. Stop, chairman, stop. Easy does it! Easy, easy! I think these boobies intend to break me to pieces by bumping me against the walls and the pavement.
1 CHAIR. Ay, marry, because the gate is narrow and you would make us bring you in here.
MASC. To be sure, you rascals! Would you have me expose the fulness of my plumes to the inclemency of the rainy season, and let the mud receive the impression of my shoes? Begone; take away your chair.
2 CHAIR. Then please to pay us, sir.
MASC. What?
2 CHAIR. Sir, please to give us our money, I say.
MASC. (Giving him a box on the ear). What, scoundrel, to ask money from a person of my rank!
2 CHAIR. Is this the way poor people are to be paid? Will your rank get us a dinner?
MASC. Ha, ha! I shall teach you to keep your right place. Those low fellows dare to make fun of me!
1 CHAIR. (Taking up one of the poles of his chair). Come, pay us quickly.
MASC. What?
1 CHAIR. I mean to have my money at once.
MASC. That is a sensible fellow.
1 CHAIR. Make haste, then.
MASC. Ay, you speak properly, but the other is a scoundrel, who does not know what he says. There, are you satisfied?
1 CHAIR. No, I am not satisfied; you boxed my friend's ears, and … (holding up his pole).
MASC. Gently; there is something for the box on the ear. People may get anything from me when they go about it in the right way. Go now, but come and fetch me by and by to carry me to the Louvre to the petit coucher.
[Footnote: Louis XIV. and several other Kings of France, received their courtiers when rising or going to bed. This was called lever and coucher. The lever as well as the coucher was divided into petit and grand. All persons received at court had a right to come to the grand lever and coucher, but only certain noblemen of high rank and the princes of the royal blood could remain at the petit lever and coucher, which was the time between the king putting on either a day or night shirt, and the time he went to bed or was fully dressed. The highest person of rank always claimed the right of handing to the king his shirt.]
SCENE IX. – MAROTTE, MASCARILLE
MAR. Sir, my mistresses will come immediately.
MASC. Let them not hurry themselves; I am very comfortable here, and can wait.
MAR. Here they come.
SCENE X. – MADELON, CATHOS, MASCARILLE, ALMANZOR
MASC. (After having bowed to them). Ladies, no doubt you will be surprised at the boldness of my visit, but your reputation has drawn this disagreeable affair upon you; merit has for me such potent charms, that I run everywhere after it.
MAD. If you pursue merit you should not come to us.
CAT. If you find merit amongst us, you must have brought it hither yourself.
MASC. Ah! I protest against these words. When fame mentioned your deserts it spoke the truth, and you are going to make pic, repic, and capot. all the gallants from Paris.
[Footnote: Dryden, in his Sir Martin Mar-all (Act i. sc. i), makes Sir
Martin say: "If I go to picquet…he will picque and repicque, and capot me twenty times together" I believe that these terms in Molière's and
Dryden's times had a different meaning from what they have now.]
MAD. Your complaisance goes a little too far in the liberality of its praises, and my cousin and I must take care not to give too much credit to your sweet adulation.
CAT. My dear, we should call for chairs.
MAD. Almanzor!
ALM. Madam.
MAD. Convey to us hither, instantly, the conveniences of conversation.
MASC. But am I safe here? (Exit Almanzor.)
CAT. What is it you fear?
MASC. Some larceny of my heart; some massacre of liberty. I behold here a pair of eyes that seem to be very naughty boys, that insult liberty, and use a heart most barbarously. Why the deuce do they put themselves on their guard, in order to kill any one who comes near them? Upon my word! I mistrust them; I shall either scamper away, or expect very good security that they do me no mischief.
MAD. My dear, what a charming facetiousness he has!
CAT. I see, indeed, he is an Amilcar.
[Footnote: Amilcar is one of the heroes of the novel Clélie, who wishes to be thought sprightly.]
MAD. Fear nothing, our eyes have no wicked designs, and your heart may rest in peace, fully assured of their innocence.
CAT. But, pray, Sir, be not inexorable to the easy chair, which, for this last quarter of an hour, has held out its arms towards you; yield to its desire of embracing you.
MASC. (After having combed himself, and, adjusted the rolls of his stockings). Well, ladies, and what do you think of Paris?
[Footnote: It was at that time the custom for men of rank to comb their hair or periwigs in public.]
[Footnote: The rolls (canons) were large round pieces of linen, often adorned with lace or ribbons, and which were fastened below the breeches, just under the knee.]
MAD. Alas! what can we think of it? It would be the very antipodes of reason not to confess that Paris is the grand cabinet of marvels, the centre of good taste, wit, and gallantry.
MASC. As for me, I maintain that, out of Paris, there is no salvation for the polite world.
CAT. Most assuredly.
MASC. Paris is somewhat muddy; but then we have sedan chairs.
MAD. To be sure; a sedan chair is a wonderful protection against the insults of mud and bad weather.
MASC. I am sure you receive many visits. What great wit belongs to your company?
MAD. Alas! we are not yet known, but we are in the way of being so; for a lady of our acquaintance has promised us to bring all the gentlemen who have written for the Miscellanies of Select Poetry.
[Footnote: Molière probably alludes to a Miscellany of Select Poetry,
published in 1653, by de Sercy, under the title of Poésies choisies deM. M. Corneille Benserade, de Scudéry, Boisrobert, Sarrazin, Desmarets,Baraud, Saint-Laurent, Colletet. Lamesnardiere, Montreuil, Viguier,Chevreau, Malleville, Tristan, Testu, Maucroy, de Prade, Girard et deL'Age. A great number of such miscellanies appeared in France, and in
England also, about that time.]
CAT. And certain others, whom, we have been told, are likewise the sovereign arbiters of all that is handsome.
MASC. I can manage this for you better than any one; they all visit me; and I may say that I never rise without having half-a-dozen wits at my levee.
MAD. Good Heavens! you will place us under the greatest obligation if you will do us the kindness; for, in short, we must make the acquaintance of all those gentlemen if we wish to belong to the fashion. They are the persons who can make or unmake a reputation at Paris; you know that there are some, whose visits alone are sufficient to start the report that you are a Connaisseuse, though there should be no other reason for it. As for me, what I value particularly is, that by means of these ingenious visits, we learn a hundred things which we ought necessarily to know, and which are the quintessence of wit. Through them we hear the scandal of the day, or whatever niceties are going on in prose or verse. We know, at the right time, that Mr. So-and-so has written the finest piece in the world on such a subject; that Mrs. So-and-so has adapted words to such a tune; that a certain gentleman has written a madrigal upon a favour shown to him; another stanzas upon a fair one who betrayed him; Mr. Such-a-one wrote a couplet of six lines yesterday evening to Miss Such-a-one, to which she returned him an answer this morning at eight o'clock; such an author is engaged on such a subject; this writer is busy with the third volume of his novel; that one is putting his works to press. Those things procure you consideration in every society, and if people are ignorant of them, I would not give one pinch of snuff for all the wit they may have.
CAT. Indeed, I think it the height of ridicule for any one who possesses the slightest claim to be called clever not to know even the smallest couplet that is made every day; as for me, I should be very much ashamed if any one should ask me my opinion about something new, and I had not seen it.
MASC. It is really a shame not to know from the very first all that is going on; but do not give yourself any farther trouble, I will establish an academy of wits at your house, and I give you my word that not a single line of poetry shall be written in Paris, but what you shall be able to say by heart before anybody else. As for me, such as you see me, I amuse myself in that way when I am in the humour, and you may find handed about in the fashionable assemblies
[Footnote: In the original French the word is ruelle, which means literally "a small street," "a lane," hence any narrow passage, hence the narrow opening between the wall and the bed. The Précieuses at that time received their visitors lying dressed in a bed, which was placed in an alcove and upon a raised platform. Their fashionable friends (alcovistes) took their places between the bed and the wall, and thus the name ruelle came to be given to all fashionable assemblies. In Dr. John Ash's New and Complete Dictionary of the English Language, published in London 1755, I still find ruelle defined: "a little street, a circle, an assembly at a private house."]
of Paris two hundred songs, as many sonnets, four hundred epigrams, and more than a thousand madrigals all made by me, without counting riddles and portraits.
[Footnote: This kind of literature, in which one attempted to write a portrait of one's self or of others, was then very much in fashion. La Bruyere and de Saint-Simon in France, as well as Dryden and Pope in England, have shown what a literary portrait may become in the hands of men of talent.]
MAD. I must acknowledge that I dote upon portraits; I think there is nothing more gallant.
MASC. Portraits are difficult, and call for great wit; you shall see some of mine that will not displease you.
CAT. As for me, I am awfully fond of riddles.
MASC. They exercise the intelligence; I have already written four of them this morning, which I will give you to guess.
MAD. Madrigals are pretty enough when they are neatly turned.
MASC. That is my special talent; I am at present engaged in turning the whole Roman history into madrigals.
[Footnote: Seventeen years after this play was performed, Benserade published les Métamorphoses d' Ovide mises en rondeaux.]
MAD. Goodness gracious! that will certainly be superlatively fine; I should like to have one copy at least, if you think of publishing it.
MASC. I promise you each a copy, bound in the handsomest manner. It does not become a man of my rank to scribble, but I do it only to serve the publishers, who are always bothering me.
MAD. I fancy it must be a delightful thing to see one's self in print.
MASC. Undoubtedly; but, by the by, I must repeat to you some extempore verses I made yesterday at the house of a certain duchess, an acquaintance of mine. I am deuced clever at extempore verses.
CAT. Extempore verses are certainly the very touch-stone of genius.
MASC. Listen then.
MAD. We are all ears.
MASC.
Oh! oh! quite without heed was I,
As harmless you I chanced to spy,
Slily your eyes
My heart surprise,
Stop thief! stop thief! stop thief I cry!
CAT. Good Heavens! this is carried to the utmost pitch of gallantry.
MASC. Everything I do shows it is done by a gentleman; there is nothing of the pedant about my effusions.
MAD. They are more than two thousand miles removed from that.
MASC. Did you observe the beginning, oh! oh? there is something original in that oh! oh! like a man who all of a sudden thinks about something, oh! oh! Taken by surprise as it were, oh! oh!
