The Shopkeeper Turned Gentleman
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Moliere (Poquelin) >> The Shopkeeper Turned Gentleman
DOR. It is true.
MR. JOUR. Four thousand three hundred and seventy-nine livres, twelve
sous, eight deniers, to your tradesman.
DOR. Twelve sous, eight deniers; the account is perfectly right.
MR. JOUR. And one thousand seven hundred and forty-eight livres, seven
sous, four deniers, to your saddler.
DOR. It is so. How much does all this come to?
MR. JOUR. Sum-total, fifteen thousand eight hundred livres.
DOR. The sum-total is exact; fifteen thousand eight hundred livres.
Add to this two hundred pistoles which you are going to lend me, and
it will make exactly eighteen thousand francs, which I will pay you at
the first opportunity.
MRS. JOUR. (_aside to_ MR. JOURDAIN). Well? Did I not guess
right?
MR. JOUR. (_aside to_ MRS. JOURDAIN). Peace!
DOR. Will it be inconvenient to you to lend me what I say?
MR. JOUR. Oh dear! no.
MRS. JOUR. (_aside to_ MR. JOURDAIN). That man makes a milch-cow
of you.
MR. JOUR. (_aside to_ MRS. JOURDAIN). Be silent!
DOR. If I at all inconvenience you, I will get it elsewhere.
MR. JOUR. No, Sir.
MRS. JOUR. (_aside to_ MR. JOURDAIN). He won't be satisfied until
he has ruined you.
MR. JOUR. (_aside to_ MRS. JOURDAIN). Hold your tongue, I say.
DOR. You have only to tell me if this will embarrass you.
MR. JOUR. Not at all, Sir.
MRS. JOUR. (_aside to_ MR. JOURDAIN). He is a regular deceiver.
MR. JOUR. (_aside to_ MRS. JOURDAIN). Do hold your peace.
MRS. JOUR. (_aside to_ MR. JOURDAIN). He will drain you to the
last penny.
MR. JOUR. (_aside to_ MRS. JOURDAIN). Will you hold your tongue?
DOR. There are a great many people who would advance me money with
pleasure; but as I look upon you as my best friend, I was afraid of
wronging you if I asked it of anyone else.
MR. JOUR. You do me too much honour, Sir. I will go and fetch what you
want.
MRS. JOUR. (_aside_ to MR. JOURDAIN). What! are you going to give
him that also?
MR. JOUR. (_aside_ to MRS. JOURDAIN). What can I do? How can I
refuse a man of such rank, a man who spoke of me this morning at the
king's levee.
MRS. JOUR. (_aside_ to MR. JOURDAIN). There, go; you are nothing
but a dupe.
SCENE V.--DORANTE, MRS. JOURDAIN, NICOLE.
DOR. You appear to me quite low-spirited! What can be the matter with
you, Mrs. Jourdain?
MRS. JOUR. My head is bigger than my fist, and yet it isn't swollen.
DOR. Where is your daughter, that I have not seen her?
MRS. JOUR. My daughter is very well where she is.
DOR. How does she get on?
MRS. JOUR. She gets on on her two legs.
DOR. Would you not like one of these days to come with her to see the
ballet and the play which are being acted at court?
MRS. JOUR. Ah! yes. We have a great fancy for laughing, a great fancy
have we!
DOR. I think, Mrs. Jourdain, that you must have had plenty of lovers
in your young days, so handsome, and so sweet-tempered as you must
have been.
MRS. JOUR. My goodness, Sir! Has Mrs. Jourdain grown decrepit, and
does her head already shake on her shoulders?
DOR. Oh! Mrs Jourdain, I really beg your pardon! I had forgotten that
you are young, and I am very often absent. I beg of you to excuse my
impertinence.
SCENE VI.--MR. JOURDAIN, MRS. JOURDAIN, DORANTE, NICOLE.
MR. JOUR. (_to_ DORANTE). Here are two hundred louis in full.
DOR. I assure you, Mr. Jourdain, that you may dispose of me in any way
you like, and that I long to render you some service at court.
MR. JOUR. I am much obliged to you.
DOR. If Mrs. Jourdain wishes to see the royal entertainment,
[Footnote: 'The Magnificent Lovers.'] I will obtain the best places in
the room for her.
MRS. JOUR. Mrs. Jourdain is your humble servant.
DOR. (_aside to_ MR. JOURDAIN). Our lovely marchioness, as I told
you in my note, is coming here this afternoon for the ballet and the
banquet, as I have at last prevailed on her to accept the
entertainment you wish to give her. [Footnote: _Cadeau_ does not
mean "present," as at first sight it seems to mean. Compare also the
next speech of Dorante.]
MR. JOUR. Let us go a little further. I need not tell you the reason.
DOR. It is a whole week since I saw you; and I did not send you any
news of the diamond which you placed in my hands to make her a present
of from you; it is because I found it the most difficult thing in the
world to make her accept it; and it is only to-day that she could
conquer her scruples about it.
MR. JOUR. How does she like it?
DOR. Exceedingly; and, unless I am greatly mistaken, the beauty of
that diamond will produce an admirable effect on her mind towards you.
MR. JOUR. Ah, may it be so!
MRS. JOUR. (_to_ NICOLE). When once he is with him, he can't
leave him.
DOR. I described to her in glowing colours the expense of such a
present, and the greatness of your love.
MR. JOUR. Your kindness is too much for me, Sir, and I feel perfectly
ashamed to see a man of such high standing condescend to do for me the
things you do.
DOR. Nonsense! Do friends stand upon such scruples? and would you not
do for me the very same thing if the opportunity presented itself?
MR. JOUR. Oh, decidedly, and with all my heart!
MRS. JOUR. (_aside to_ NICOLE). How hard for me to bear with his
presence.
DOR. For my part, I hesitate at nothing when I want to serve a friend;
and as soon as you told me of your admiration for this charming
marchioness, with whom I was acquainted, you saw me at once put myself
at your disposal to serve your love.
MR. JOUR. It is perfectly true. Such kindness confounds me.
MRS. JOUR. (_to_ NICOLE). Will he never go?
NIC. (_to_ MRS. JOURDAIN). They are very thick together.
DOR. You went the right way to work to touch her heart. There is
nothing women like more than the expenses one makes for them; and your
frequent serenades, your numerous bouquets, the magnificent display of
fireworks which she saw on the water, the diamond which she received
from you, and the entertainment you are preparing for her, all this
tells more in favour of your love than all the speeches you could make
to her about it.
MR. JOUR. There is no expense I would not make to find access to her
heart. A woman of quality has for me the most dazzling charms, and it
is an honour which I would purchase at any price.
MRS. JOUR. (_aside to_ NICOLE). What on earth can they have to
say together? Go and listen!
DOR. You will enjoy to-day the pleasure of seeing her; and your eyes
will have full leisure to satisfy themselves.
MR. JOUR. In order to be free, I have arranged for my wife to go and
dine with my sister, and she will spend the whole-afternoon there.
DOR. You have acted wisely, for your wife might be in the way. I have
given the necessary orders to the cook, and for everything which may
be necessary for the ballet. It is my own invention, and if the
execution comes up to the conception, I am sure that it will be
found....
MR. JOUR. (_seeing_ NICOLE _listening, and giving her a box on
the ears_). Ha! you rude, impertinent hussy! (_To_ DORANTE)
Let us go out, if you please.
SCENE VII.--MRS. JOURDAIN, NICOLE.
NIC. Well, Madam, my curiosity has cost me something; but all the same
I believe that there is something in the wind, for they were speaking
of an affair where they do not wish you to be present.
MRS. JOUR. This is not the first time, Nicole, that I have had some
suspicions about my husband. Either I am greatly mistaken or there is
some love affair on foot; and I am doing my best to discover what it
maybe. But, first of all, let us think of my daughter. You know that
Cleonte loves her; he is a man after my own heart, and I wish to help
him, and give him to Lucile if I can.
NIC. To tell you the truth, Madam, I am delighted to find you think
so; for if the master pleases you, the servant pleases me as well, and
I wish our own marriage could take place at the same time as theirs.
MRS. JOUR. Go, then, and speak to him about what I told you; and tell
him to come presently, that we may both together ask my husband to
grant him my daughter.
NIC. I run with joy, Madam, and I could not receive a more pleasant
order. (_Alone_.) How happy I am going to make certain people!
SCENE VIII.--NICOLE, CLEONTE, COVIELLE.
NIC. Ah, what a lucky meeting! I am a messenger of joy, and I came....
CLE. Leave me, false woman, and don't think of deceiving me with your
treacherous words.
NIC. Do you receive me in that way?
CLE. Leave me, I say, and go and tell your faithless mistress that she
never shall again deceive the too credulous Cleonte.
NIC. What a change? My poor Covielle, tell me, I pray, what all this
means.
COV. Your poor Covielle, indeed, you wicked girl! Go, minx! decamp;
get out of my sight as fast as you can, and leave me alone!
NIC. What! and do you also...?
COV. Get out of my sight, I say; I will never speak to you any more,
as long as I live.
NIC. (_aside_). Mercy on us! What has happened to both of them? I
must go and tell my mistress this pretty piece of news.
SCENE IX.--CLEONTE, COVIELLE.
CLE. What! to treat a lover in that fashion, and the most faithful and
affectionate of all lovers!
COV. It is shameful what they have done to both of us!
CLE. I show her all possible ardour and tenderness; I love nothing in
the world better, and have nothing in my thoughts but her; she is all
my care, all my desire, all my joy; I speak of nothing but her, think
of nothing but her, dream of nothing but her. I live but for her; my
heart beats but for her; and, behold the reward of so much devotion! I
am two whole days without seeing her, two days which seem to me
centuries of frightful length; I meet her by accident, my heart at the
sight of her feels transported; joy sparkles in my face. I fly to her
with delight, and the faithless one turns away her eyes, and passes by
me hastily, as if she had never seen me before in her life!
COV. I can only repeat the same story.
CLE. Can anything be compared, Covielle, to the perfidy of the
ungrateful Lucile?
COV. And to that, Sir, of that hussy Nicole?
CLE. After so many passionate sacrifices, sighs, and vows which I have
paid to her charms!
COV. After so many attentions, cares, and services I have rendered her
in the kitchen!
CLE. So many tears that I have shed at her feet!
COV. So many buckets of water that I have drawn for her from the well!
CLE. Such warmth as I have shown in loving her more than myself!
COV. Such heat as I have endured in turning the spit for her!
CLE. She avoids me with contempt!
COV. She rudely turns her back upon me!
CLE. This perfidy deserves the greatest chastisement.
COV. This treachery deserves a thousand blows.
CLE. Mind, you never speak to me of her any more.
COV. I, Sir? Heaven forbid!
CLE. Do not venture to palliate her wrongs before me.
COV. Never fear.
CLE. No; for all you would say in her defence would be lost upon me.
COV. Who dreams of such a thing?
CLE. I wish to nurse up my wrath against her, and to break off all
intercourse with her.
COV. I am quite willing.
CLE. This count who goes to her house has turned her head, no doubt;
and rank, I see, dazzles her mind. But I must, for my own honour,
prevent her triumphing in her inconstancy. I will do as much as she
does towards a change which I plainly see she desires, and I will not
let her have all the pleasure of having dismissed me.
COV. You are in the right, and I enter into all your feelings.
CLE. Help me in my resentment, and support my resolution against the
remainder of my love that might still plead for her. Tell me, I pray
you, all the evil you can think of her. Draw a description of her
person which may bring her down in my estimation, and, in order to
make me dislike her more surely, show me all the defects you can see
in her.
COV. She, indeed, Sir! a fine specimen, a fine piece of affectation to
be in love with! I see nothing in her but the most common attractions,
and you will find a thousand girls more worthy of your love than she
is. To begin with, her eyes are small... [Footnote: It is Moliere's
wife that is here described.]
CLE. Yes, it is true, her eyes are small, Covielle; but they are full
of fire, the most sparkling, the most searching in the world, and the
tenderest also that could be found.
COV. Her mouth is large....
CLE. Yes; but you find there charms that can be found in no other. The
sight of that mouth inspires me with love; it is the most attractive
and the most amorous mouth in the world!
COV. As to her height, she is not tall.
CLE. No; but she is well shaped and graceful.
COV. She affects great carelessness in her speech, and her
movements....
CLE. It is true; but she is graceful in all she does, and her manners
are attractive, and possess a certain charm which at once takes
possession of one's heart.
COV. As for wit....
CLE. Ah, Covielle! her wit is of the most refined, the most delicate
kind.
COV. Her conversation....
CLE. Her conversation is charming.
COV. It is always grave.
CLE. Would you prefer an unrestrained gaiety, a perpetual liveliness?
and can you find anything more unpleasant than those women who giggle
at everything?
COV. But, in short, she is as whimsical as any woman can be.
CLE. Yes, she is, I agree with you there; but everything becomes those
we love. We bear everything from them.
COV. Since you go on so, I see pretty well that you are determined to
love her still.
CLE. I? I had rather die this moment, and I mean in future to hate her
as much as I loved her before.
COV. How can you if you think her so perfect?
CLE. In this way shall my revenge shine; in this way shall the
strength of my decision to hate her be better displayed; if thinking
her most beautiful, most charming, most amiable, I still part from
her. Here she is.
SCENE X.--LUCILE, CLEONTE, COVIELLE, NICOLE.
NIC. (_to_ LUCILE). I was quite shocked at it.
LUC. It can only be what I tell you, Nicole; but there he is.
CLE. (_to_ COVIELLE). I will not condescend even to speak to her.
COV. I will do like you.
LUC. What is it, Cleonte? What can be the matter with you?
NIC. What ails you, Covielle?
LUC. What trouble afflicts you?
NIC. What fit of bad temper has got hold of you?
LUC. Are you dumb, Cleonte?
NIC. Have you lost your tongue, Covielle?
CLE. How deceitful she is!
COV. How Judas-like!
LUC. I see that our meeting of this morning has troubled your mind.
CLE. (_to_ COVIELLE). Ah! ah! we are conscious of what we have
done?
NIC. Our reception of this morning has put you out.
COV. (_to_ CLEONTE). We know where the shoe pinches.
LUC. Is it not true, Cleonte; is not this the cause of your vexation?
CLE. Yes, faithless girl, it is, since I am to speak; but I must
inform you that you shall not have, as you fancy, all the glory of
your faithlessness; I wish to be the first to break with you, and you
shall not have the pleasure of driving me away. I shall find it hard,
I know, to conquer the love I feel for you; it will bring grief to me;
I am sure, to suffer for a while; but I will overcome it, and I had
rather stab myself to the heart than be weak enough to return to you.
COV. (_to_ NICOLE). As the master says, so says the man.
LUC. This is much ado about nothing, Cleonte, and I wish to tell you
what made me avoid you this morning.
CLE. (_trying to go away to avoid_ LUCILE). I will hear nothing.
NIC. (_to_ COVIELLE). I want to tell you why we passed you so
quickly.
COV. (_trying also to go away to avoid_ NICOLE). I will hear
nothing.
LUC. (_following_ CLEONTE). Know, then, that this morning....
CLE. (_still walking away without looking at_ LUCILE). No, I tell
you.
NIC. (_following_ COVIELLE). Let me tell you....
COV. (_still walking away without looking at_ NICOLE). No, you
jilt!
LUC. Listen.
CLE. Don't trouble me.
NIC. Let me tell you.
COV. I am deaf.
LUC. Cleonte!
CLE. No.
NIC. Covielle!
COV. No.
LUC. Wait.
CLE. Nonsense.
NIC. Listen to me.
COV. Rubbish.
LUC. One moment.
CLE. Not a bit.
NIC. A little patience.
COV. Fiddle-de-dee!
LUC. A couple of words.
CLE. No; all is over.
NIC. One word.
COV. Not one.
LUC. (_stopping_). Very well! Since you will not listen to me,
keep your own thoughts to yourself, and do as you please.
NIC. (_stopping also_). Since you act in that fashion, think what
you like.
CLE. (_turning towards_ LUCILE). Well, what was the reason for
such a welcome?
LUC. (_going away in her turn_, _to avoid_ CLEONTE). I don't
choose to tell you now.
COV. (_turning towards_ NICOLE). Give us that story.
NIC. (_going away also_, _to avoid_ COVIELLE). I don't wish
to tell it you now.
CLE. (_following_ LUCILE). Tell me....
LUC. (_walking away without looking at_ CLEONTE). No; I will tell
you nothing.
COV. (_following_ NICOLE). Relate to me....
NIC. (_walking away without looking at_ COVIELLE). No; I shall
relate nothing.
CLE. For mercy's sake!
LUC. No, I tell you.
COV. For pity's sake!
NIC. No; not another word.
CLE. I beseech you.
LUC. Leave me.
COV. I entreat you.
NIC. Get away from here.
CLE. Lucile!
LUC. No.
COV. Nicole!
NIC. Nothing.
CLE. For heaven's sake.
LUC. I will not.
COV. Speak to me.
NIC. I won't.
CLE. Clear up my doubts.
LUC. No; I will do nothing of the kind.
COV. Ease my mind.
NIC. No; it is not my wish to do so.
CLE. Very well! Since you care so little to relieve my grief, and to
justify yourself of the unworthy treatment my love has received from
you, you see me for the last time; and I am going away from you to die
of grief and love.
COV. (_to_ NICOLE). And I will follow his steps.
LUC. (_to_ CLEONTE, _who is going_). Cleonte!
NIC. (_to_ COVIELLE, _who is going_). Covielle!
CLE. (_stopping_). Hey?
COV. (_stopping also_). What do you say?
LUC. Where are you going?
CLE. Where I have told you.
COV. We are going to die.
LUC. You are going to die, Cleonte?
CLE. Yes, cruel one, since you wish it.
LUC. I! I wish you to die!
CLE. Yes, you wish it.
LUC. Who told you such a thing?
CLE. Is it not wishing it, to refuse to clear up my suspicions?
LUC. Is it my fault? If you had but listened to me, I would have told
you at once that the treatment you complain of was caused by the
presence of an old aunt, who persists in saying that the mere approach
of a man is dishonour to a girl; she is always lecturing us about it,
and depicts all men to us as so many scamps whom we ought always to
avoid.
NIC. (_to_ COVIELLE.) This is the whole secret of the affair.
CLE. (_to_ LUCILE). Are you not deceiving me, Lucile?
COV. (_to_ NICOLE). Are you not imposing upon me?
LUC. It is the exact truth.
NIC. That's how it is.
COV. (_to_ CLEONTE). Shall we surrender after this?
CLE. Ah! Lucile! How you can with one word bring back peace to my
heart; and how easily we suffer ourselves to be persuaded by those we
love.
COV. How easily these queer animals succeed in getting round us.
SCENE XI.--MRS. JOURDAIN, CLEONTE, LUCILE, COVIELLE, NICOLE.
MRS. JOUR. I am very glad to see you, Cleonte. You are just in time,
for my husband will be here in a moment. Seize that opportunity of
asking him to give you Lucile in marriage.
CLE. Oh! how welcome these kind words are, and how well they
correspond to the inmost wishes of my heart. Could I ever receive an
order more flattering, a favour more precious?
SCENE XII.--CLEONTE, MR. JOURDAIN, MRS. JOURDAIN, LUCILE, COVIELLE,
NICOLE.
CLE. Sir, I would not ask anybody to come instead of me to make you a
request which I have long wished to make. The matter interests me too
much for me not to do it myself. Allow me to tell you then, without
further words, that the honour of becoming your son-in-law is a favour
I earnestly solicit, and one which I beseech you to grant me.
MR. JOUR. Before I give you an answer, Sir, I beg you to tell me if
you are a nobleman.
CLE. Sir, most people would answer that question without any
hesitation whatever. The word is easily spoken; a title is generally
adopted without scruple, and present custom seems to sanction the
theft. For my part, however, I must confess that I look upon any kind
of imposture as unworthy of an honest man. I think it base to hide
what heaven has made us, to adorn ourselves before the world with a
title, and to wish to pass for what we are not. I am the son of
parents who have filled honourable offices. I have acquitted myself
with honour in the army, where I served for six years, and I am rich
enough to hold a tolerable position in the world; but for all this, I
will not assume a name that others might think I could pretend to in
my position, and I tell you openly that I cannot be reckoned a
nobleman.
MR. JOUR. Shake hands, then, my daughter is no wife for you.
CLE. How! May I know...?
MR. JOUR. You are not a nobleman, therefore you shall not have my
daughter.
MRS. JOUR. What is it you mean by your nobleman? Are we ourselves
descended from St. Louis?
MR. JOUR. Be silent, wife; I see what you are driving at.
MRS. JOUR. Are we not both descended from good, simple tradesmen?
MR. JOUR. Is not that a wicked slander?
MRS. JOUR. Was not your father a tradesman as well as mine?
MR. JOUR. Plague take the woman! She has never done with that. If your
father was a tradesman, so much the worse for him; as for mine, it is
only ill-informed people who say so, and all I have to tell you is
that I will have a gentleman for my son-in-law.
MRS. JOUR. Your daughter must have a husband who suits her; and it is
better for her to marry an honest man, rich and handsome, than a
deformed and beggarly gentleman.
NIC. That's quite true. We have the son of the squire in our village,
who is the most awkwardly built and stupid noodle that I have ever
seen in my life.
MR. JOUR. (_to_ NICOLE). Hold your tongue, will you? and mind
your own business. I have wealth enough and to spare for my daughter.
I only wish for honours, and I will have her a marchioness.
MRS. JOUR. A marchioness?
MR. JOUR. Yes, a marchioness.
MRS. JOUR. alas! God forbid.
MR. JOUR. It's a thing that I'm determined upon.
MRS. JOUR. I will never consent to it. Marriages between people who
are not of the same rank are always subject to the most serious
inconveniences. I do not wish to have a son-in-law who would have it
in his power to reproach my daughter with her parentage; nor that she
should have children who would be ashamed to call me their
grandmother. If she came to see me with the equipage of a grand lady,
and failed through inadvertency to salute some of the neighbours,
people would not fail to say a thousand ill-natured things. "Just
see," they would say, "our lady the marchioness, who is so puffed up
now, she is Mr. Jourdain's daughter; she was only too pleased, when a
child, to play at my lady with us. She has not always been so exalted
as now, and her two grandfathers sold cloth near St. Innocents' Gate.
They have laid a great deal of money by for their children, for which,
may be, they are now paying dearly in the other world, for one does
not generally become so rich by honest means." I do not wish to give
occasion for such gossip, and I desire to meet with a man who, to cut
it short, will be grateful to me for my daughter, and to whom I can
say, "Sit down there, son-in-law, and dine with me."
MR. JOUR. How all these feelings show a narrow mind, satisfied to live
for ever in a low condition of life. Let me have no more replies; my
daughter shall be a marchioness in spite of everybody, and if you
provoke me too much, I will make her a duchess.
SCENE XIII.--MRS. JOURDAIN, LUCILE, CLEONTE, NICOLE, COVIELLE.
MRS. JOUR. Do not give up all hope, Cleonte. Follow me, Lucile; come
and tell your father with firmness and decision that, unless you have
Cleonte for a husband, you will never marry.
SCENE XIV.--CLEONTE, COVIELLE.
COV. Well! you have done a fine piece of work, with your lofty
sentiments.
CLE. What could I do? I have scruples on that subject which no
precedent could overcome.
COV. What nonsense to be serious with a man like that! Do you not see
that he is infatuated with one idea, and would it have cost you much
to fall in with his gentility?
CLE. I am afraid you are right; but the fact is I had not thought
before that it was necessary to show proofs of gentility in order to
become Mr. Jourdain's son-in-law.
COV. (_laughing_). Ha! ha! ha!
CLE. What are you laughing at?
COV. At the thought of something that has just come into my head; it
will play off our man, and help you to succeed in what you want.
CLE. How so?
COV. It is most amusing even to think of it.
CLE. What is it?
COV. We have had lately a certain masquerade, which seems to me the
very thing wanted, and which I mean to make use of to play a trick on
our absurd old fellow. The whole affair seems rather silly, but with
him we may risk many things; there is no need of much cunning, and he
is one to play his part wonderfully well, and to swallow greedily all
the nonsense we may venture to tell him. I have actors and costumes
all ready; only leave it to me.
CLE. But tell me....
COV. Yes, I must tell you all about it; but let us go away, for here
he is coming back again.
SCENE XV.--MR. JOURDAIN (_alone_).