The french masters, p.6
The French Masters, page 6
Célimène. Good Heavens, how out of place is this persistence, and how very unreasonable you both show yourselves! It is not that I do not know whom to prefer, nor is it my heart that wavers. It is not at all in doubt between you two; and nothing could be more quickly accomplished than the choice of my affections. But to tell the truth, I feel too confused to pronounce such an avowal before you; I think that disobliging words ought not to be spoken in people’s presence; that a heart can give sufficient proof of its attachment without going so far as to break with everyone; and gentler intimations suffice to inform a lover of the ill success of his suit.
Oronte. No, no, I do not fear a frank avowal; for my part I consent to it.
Alceste. And I demand it; it is just its very publicity that I claim, and I do not wish you to spare my feelings in the least. Your great study has always been to keep friends with everyone; but no more trifling, no more uncertainty. You must explain yourself clearly, or I shall take your refusal as a verdict; I shall know, for my part, how to interpret your silence, and shall consider it as a confirmation of the worst.
Oronte. I owe you many thanks, sir, for this wrath, and I say in every respect as you do.
Célimène. How you weary me with such a whim! Is there any justice in what you ask? And have I not told you what motive prevents me? I will be judged by Eliante, who is just coming.
Scene III. —
Eliante, Philinte, Célimène, Oronte, Alceste.
Célimène. Good cousin, I am being persecuted here by people who have concerted to do so. They both demand, with the same warmth, that I should declare whom my heart has chosen, and that, by a decision which I must give before their very faces, I should forbid one of them to tease me any more with his attentions. Say, has ever such a thing been done?
Éliante. Pray, do not consult me upon such a matter. You may perhaps address yourself to a wrong person, for I am decidedly for people who speak their mind.
Oronte. Madam, it is useless for you to decline.
Alceste. All your evasions here will be badly supported.
Oronte. You must speak, you must, and no longer waver.
Alceste. You need do no more than remain silent.
Oronte. I desire but one word to end our discussions.
Alceste. To me your silence will convey as much as speech.
Scene IV. —
Arsinoé, Célimène, Eliante, Alceste, Philinte, Acaste, Clitandre, Oronte.
Acaste (to Célimène). We have both come, by your leave, Madam, to clear up a certain little matter with you.
Clitandre (to oronte and alceste). Your presence happens fortunately, gentlemen; for this affair concerns you also.
Arsinoé (to Célimène). No doubt you are surprised at seeing me here, Madam; but these gentlemen are the cause of my intrusion. They both came to see me, and complained of a proceeding which I could not have credited. I have too high an opinion of your kindness of heart ever to believe you capable of such a crime; my eyes even have refused to give credence to their strongest proofs, and in my friendship, forgetting trivial disagreements, I have been induced to accompany them here, to hear you refute this slander.
Acaste. Yes, Madam, let us see, with composure, how you will manage to bear this out. This letter has been written by you, to Clitandre.
Clitandre. And this tender epistle you have addressed to Acaste.
Acaste (to Oronte and Alceste). This writing is not altogether unknown to you, gentlemen, and I have no doubt that her kindness has before now made you familiar with her hand. But this is well worth the trouble of reading.
“You are a strange man to condemn my liveliness of spirits, and to reproach me that I am never so merry as when I am not with you. Nothing could be more unjust; and if you do not come very soon to ask my pardon for this offence, I shall never forgive you as long as I live. Our great hulking booby of a Viscount. “ He ought to have been here. “Our great hulking booby of a Viscount, with whom you begin your complaints, is a man who would not at all suit me; and ever since I watched him for full three-quarters of an hour spitting in a well to make circles in the water, I never could have a good opinion of him. As for the little Marquis . . . “ that is myself, ladies and gentlemen, be it said without the slightest vanity, . . . “as for the little Marquis, who held my hand yesterday for a long while, I think that there is nothing so diminutive as his whole person, and his sole merit consists in his cloak and sword. As to the man with the green shoulder knot. “ (To Alceste). It is your turn now, Sir. “As to the man with the green shoulder knot, he amuses me sometimes with his bluntness and his splenetic behaviour; but there are hundreds of times when I think him the greatest bore in the world. Respecting the man with the big waistcoat . . . “ (To oronte). This is your share. “Respecting the man with the big waistcoat, who has thought fit to set up as a wit, and wishes to be an author in spite of everyone, I cannot even take the trouble to listen to what he says; and his prose bores me just as much as his poetry. Take it for granted that I do not always enjoy myself so much as you think; and that I wish for you, more than I care to say, amongst all the entertainments to which I am dragged; and that the presence of those we love is an excellent relish to our pleasures.’’
Clitandre. Now for myself.
“Your Clitandre, whom you mention to me, and who has always such a quantity of soft expressions at his command, is the last man for whom I could feel any affection. He must be crazed in persuading himself that I love him; and you are so too in believing that I do not love you. You had better change your fancies for his, and come and see me as often as you can, to help me in bearing the annoyance of being pestered by him. “ This shows the model of a lovely character, Madam; and I need not tell you what to call it. It is enough. We shall, both of us, show this admirable sketch of your heart everywhere and to everybody.
Acaste. I might also say something, and the subject is tempting; but I deem you beneath my anger; and I will show you that little marquises can find worthier hearts than yours to console themselves.
Scene V. — Célimène, Eliante, Arsinoé, Alceste, Oronte, Philinte.
Oronte. What! Am I to be pulled to pieces in this fashion, after all that you have written to me? And does your heart, with all its semblance of love, plight its faith to all mankind by turns! Bah, I have been too great a dupe, but I shall be so no longer. You have done me a service, in showing yourself in your true colours to me. I am the richer by a heart which you thus restore to me, and find my revenge in your loss. (To Alceste.) Sir, I shall no longer be an obstacle to your flame, and you may settle matters with this lady as soon as you please.
Scene VI. — Célimène, Eliante, Arsinoé, Alceste, Philinte.
Arsinoé (to Célimène). This is certainly one of the basest actions which I have ever seen; I can no longer be silent, and feel quite upset. Has any one ever seen the like of it? I do not concern myself much in the affairs of other people, but this gentleman (pointing to Alceste), who has staked the whole of his happiness on you, an honourable and deserving man like this, and who worshipped you to madness, ought he to have been . . .
Alceste. Leave me, I pray you, madam, to manage my own affairs; and do not trouble yourself unnecessarily. In vain do I see you espouse my quarrel. I am unable to repay you for this great zeal; and if ever I intended to avenge myself by choosing some one else it would not be you whom I would select.
Arsinoé. And do you imagine, sir, that I ever harboured such a thought, and that I am so very anxious to secure you? You must be very vain, indeed, to flatter yourself with such an idea.
Célimène’s leavings are a commodity, of which no one needs be so very much enamoured. Pray, undeceive yourself, and do not carry matters with so high a hand. People like me are not for such as you. You will do much better to remain dangling after her skirts, and I long to see so beautiful a match.
Scene VII. — Célimène, Eliante, Alceste, Philinte.
Alceste (to Célimène). Well! I have held my tongue, notwithstanding all I have seen, and I have let everyone have his say before me. Have I controlled myself long enough? and will you now allow me . . .
Célimène. Yes, you may say what you like; you are justified when you complain, and you may reproach me with anything you please. I confess that I am in the wrong; and overwhelmed by confusion I do not seek by any idle excuse to palliate my fault. The anger of the others I have despised; but I admit my guilt towards you. No doubt, your resentment is just; I know how culpable I must appear to you, that everything speaks of my treachery to you, and that, in short, you have cause to hate me. Do so, I consent to it.
Alceste. But can I do so, you traitress? Can I thus get the better of all my tenderness for you? And although I wish to hate you with all my soul, shall I find a heart quite ready to obey me. (To Eliante and Philinte.) You see what an unworthy passion can do, and I call you both as witnesses of my infatuation. Nor, truth to say, is this all, and you will see me carry it out to the bitter end, to show you that it is wrong to call us wise, and that in all hearts there remains still something of the man. (To Célimène.) Yes, perfidious creature, I am willing to forget your crimes. I can find, in my own heart, an excuse for all your doings, and hide them under the name of a weakness into which the vices of the age betrayed your youth, provided your heart will second the design which I have formed of avoiding all human creatures, and that you are determined to follow me without delay into the solitude in which I have made a vow to pass my days. It is by that only, that, in everyone’s opinion, you can repair the harm done by your letters, and that, after the scandal which every noble heart must abhor, it may still be possible for me to love you.
Célimène. What! I renounce the world before I grow old, and bury myself in your wilderness!
Alceste. If your affection responds to mine what need the rest of the world signify to you? Am I not sufficient for you?
Célimène. Solitude is frightful to a widow of twenty. I do not feel my mind sufficiently grand and strong to resolve to adopt such a plan. If the gift of my hand can satisfy your wishes, I might be induced to tie such bonds; and marriage . . .
Alceste. No. My heart loathes you now, and this refusal alone effects more than all the rest. As you are not disposed, in those sweet ties, to find all in all in me, as I would find all in all in you, begone, I refuse your offer, and this much-felt outrage frees me for ever from your unworthy toils.
Scene VIII. — Eliante, Alceste, Philinte.
Alceste (to Eliante). Madam, your beauty is adorned by a hundred virtues; and I never saw anything in you but what was sincere. For a long while I thought very highly of you; but allow me to esteem you thus for ever, and suffer my heart in its various troubles not to offer itself for the honour of your acceptance. I feel too unworthy, and begin to perceive that Heaven did not intend me for the marriage bond; that the homage of only the remainder of a heart unworthy of you, would be below your merit, and that in short . . .
Eliante. You may pursue this thought. I am not at all embarrassed with my hand; and here is your friend, who, without giving me much trouble, might possibly accept it if I asked him.
Philinte. Ah! Madam, I ask for nothing better than that honour, and I could sacrifice my life and soul for it.
Alceste. May you, to taste true contentment, preserve for ever these feelings towards each other! Deceived on all sides, overwhelmed with injustice, I will fly from an abyss where vice is triumphant, and seek out some small secluded nook on earth, where one may enjoy the freedom of being an honest man.
Philinte. Come, Madam, let us leave nothing untried to deter him from the design on which his heart is set.
LE MISANTHROPE par Molière
Cette pièce en cinq actes et en vers fut jouée pour la première fois en 1666. Alceste déteste l’humanité entière mais il aime Célimène. Il se lance alors dans un combat perdu d’avance qui l’accule à la fuite.
TABLE DES MATIÈRES
PERSONNAGES
ACTE I
Scène première
Scène 2
Scène 3
Scène 6
ACTE III
Scène 1
Scène 2
Scène 3
Scène 4
Scène 5
ACTE IV
Scène 1
Scène 2
Scène 3
Scène 4
ACTE V
Scène 1
Scène 2
Scène dernière
PERSONNAGES
ALCESTE, amant de Célimène
PHILINTE, ami d’Alceste
ORONTE, amant de Célimène
CÉLIMÈNE, amante d’Alceste
ÉLIANTE, cousine de Célimène
ARSINOÉ, amie de Célimène
ACASTE, marquis
CLITANDRE, marquis
BASQUE, valet de Célimène
UN GARDE de la maréchaussée de France
DU BOIS, valet d’Alceste
La scène est à Paris.
ACTE I
Scène première
PHILINTE, ALCESTE.
PHILINTE
Qu’est-ce donc? Qu’avez-vous?
ALCESTE
Laissez-moi, je vous prie.
PHILINTE
Mais, encor, dites-moi, quelle bizarrerie...
ALCESTE
Laissez-moi là, vous dis-je, et courez vous cacher.
PHILINTE
Mais on entend les gens, au moins, sans se fâcher.
ALCESTE
Moi, je veux me fâcher, et ne veux point entendre.
PHILINTE
Dans vos brusques chagrins, je ne puis vous comprendre;
Et quoique amis, enfin, je suis tous des premiers...
ALCESTE
Moi, votre ami? Rayez cela de vos papiers.
J’ai fait jusques ici, profession de l’être;
Mais après ce qu’en vous, je viens de voir paraître,
Je vous déclare net, que je ne le suis plus,
Et ne veux nulle place en des cœurs corrompus.
PHILINTE
Je suis, donc, bien coupable, Alceste, à votre compte?
ALCESTE
Allez, vous devriez mourir de pure honte,
Une telle action ne saurait s’excuser,
Et tout homme d’honneur s’en doit scandaliser.
Je vous vois accabler un homme de caresses,
Et témoigner, pour lui, les dernières tendresses;
De protestations, d’offres, et de serments,
Vous chargez la fureur de vos embrassements:
Et quand je vous demande après, quel est cet homme,
À peine pouvez-vous dire comme il se nomme,
Votre chaleur, pour lui, tombe en vous séparant,
Et vous me le traitez, à moi, d’indifférent.
Morbleu, c’est une chose indigne, lâche, infâme,
De s’abaisser ainsi, jusqu’à trahir son âme:
Et si, par un malheur, j’en avais fait autant,
Je m’irais, de regret, pendre tout à l’instant.
PHILINTE
Je ne vois pas, pour moi, que le cas soit pendable;
Et je vous supplierai d’avoir pour agréable,
Que je me fasse un peu, grâce sur votre arrêt,
Et ne me pende pas, pour cela, s’il vous plaît.
ALCESTE
Que la plaisanterie est de mauvaise grâce!
PHILINTE
Mais, sérieusement, que voulez-vous qu’on fasse?
ALCESTE
Je veux qu’on soit sincère, et qu’en homme d’honneur,
On ne lâche aucun mot qui ne parte du cœur.
PHILINTE
Lorsqu’un homme vous vient embrasser avec joie,
Il faut bien le payer de la même monnoie,
Répondre, comme on peut, à ses empressements,
Et rendre offre pour offre, et serments pour serments.
ALCESTE
Non, je ne puis souffrir cette lâche méthode
Qu’affectent la plupart de vos gens à la mode;
Et je ne hais rien tant, que les contorsions
De tous ces grands faiseurs de protestations,
Ces affables donneurs d’embrassades frivoles,
Ces obligeants diseurs d’inutiles paroles,
Qui de civilités, avec tous, font combat,
Et traitent du même air, l’honnête homme, et le fat.
Quel avantage a-t-on qu’un homme vous caresse,
Vous jure amitié, foi, zèle, estime, tendresse,
Et vous fasse de vous, un éloge éclatant,
Lorsque au premier faquin, il court en faire autant?
Non, non, il n’est point d’âme un peu bien située,
Qui veuille d’une estime, ainsi, prostituée;
Et la plus glorieuse a des régals peu chers,
Dès qu’on voit qu’on nous mêle avec tout l’univers:
Sur quelque préférence, une estime se fonde,
Et c’est n’estimer rien, qu’estimer tout le monde.
Puisque vous y donnez, dans ces vices du temps,
Morbleu, vous n’êtes pas pour être de mes gens;
Je refuse d’un cœur la vaste complaisance,
Qui ne fait de mérite aucune différence:
Je veux qu’on me distingue, et pour le trancher net,
L’ami du genre humain n’est point du tout mon fait.
PHILINTE
Mais quand on est du monde, il faut bien que l’on rende
Quelques dehors civils, que l’usage demande.
ALCESTE
Non, vous dis-je, on devrait châtier, sans pitié,
Ce commerce honteux de semblants d’amitié:
Je veux que l’on soit homme, et qu’en toute rencontre,
Le fond de notre cœur, dans nos discours, se montre;
