The Countess of Escarbagnas (La Comtesse D\'Escarbagnas) by Moliere (Poquelin)
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Moliere (Poquelin) >> The Countess of Escarbagnas (La Comtesse D\'Escarbagnas)
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THE COUNTESS OF ESCARBAGNAS.
(LA COMTESSE D'ESCARBAGNAS.)
BY
MOLIÈRE
TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH PROSE.
_WITH SHORT INTRODUCTIONS AND EXPLANATORY NOTES_.
BY
CHARLES HERON WALL
'La Comtesse d'Escarbagnas' was acted before the Court at Saint-
Germain-en-Laye, on December 2, 1671, and in the theatre of the Palais
Royal on July 8, 1672. It was never printed during Molière's lifetime,
but for the first time only in 1682. It gives us a good picture of the
provincial thoughts, manners, and habits of those days.
PERSONS REPRESENTED
THE COUNT, _son to the_ COUNTESS.
THE VISCOUNT, _in love with_ JULIA.
MR. THIBAUDIER, _councillor, in love with the_ COUNTESS.
MR. HARPIN, _receiver of taxes, also in love with the_ COUNTESS.
MR. BOBINET, _tutor to the_ COUNT.
JEANNOT, _servant to_ MR. THIBAUDIER.
CRIQUET, _servant to the_ COUNTESS.
THE COUNTESS OF ESCARBAGNAS.
JULIA, _in love with the_ VISCOUNT.
ANDRÉE, _maid to the_ COUNTESS.
_The scene is at Angoulême._
SCENE I.--JULIA, THE VISCOUNT.
VISC. What! you are here already?
JU. Yes, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself, Cléante; it is not
right for a lover to be the last to come to the rendezvous.
VISC. I should have been here long ago if there were no importunate
people in the world. I was stopped on my way by an old bore of rank,
who asked me news of the court, merely to be able himself to detail to
me the most absurd things that can well be imagined about it. You know
that those great newsmongers are the curse of provincial towns, and
that they have no greater anxiety than to spread, everywhere abroad
all the tittle-tattle they pick up. This one showed me, to begin with,
two large sheets of paper full to the very brim with the greatest
imaginable amount of rubbish, which, he says, comes from the safest
quarters. Then, as if it were a wonderful thing, he read full length
and with great mystery all the stupid jokes in the Dutch Gazette,
which he takes for gospel. [Footnote: After the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle
in 1668, this newspaper never ceased to attack Louis XIV. and
the French nation. In 1672 Louis XIV. attempted the conquest of
Holland.] He thinks that France is being brought to ruin by the pen of
that writer, whose fine wit, according to him, is sufficient to defeat
armies. After that he raved about the ministry, spoke of all its
faults, and I thought he would never have done. If one is to believe
him, he knows the secrets of the cabinet better than those who compose
it. The policy of the state is an open book to him, and no step is
taken without his seeing through it. He shows you the secret
machinations of all that takes place, whither the wisdom of our
neighbours tends, and controls at his will and pleasure all the
affairs of Europe. His knowledge of what goes on extends as far as
Africa and Asia, and he is informed of all that; is discussed in the
privy council of Prester John [Footnote: The name given in the middle
ages to a supposed Christian sovereign and priest (presbyter) in the
interior of Asia.] and the Great Mogul.
JU. You make the best excuse you can, and so arrange it that it may
pass off well and be easily received.
VISC. I assure you, dear Julia, that this is the real reason of my
being late. But if I wanted to say anything gallant, I could tell yon
that the rendezvous to which you bring me here might well excuse the
sluggishness of which you complain. To compel me to pay my addresses
to the lady of this house is certainly reason enough for me to fear
being here the first. I ought not to have to bear the misery of it,
except when she whom it amuses is present. I avoid finding myself
alone with that ridiculous countess with whom you shackle me. In
short, as I come only for your sake, I have every reason to stay away
until you are here.
JU. Oh! you will never lack the power of giving a bright colour to
your faults. However, if you had come half an hour sooner, we should
have enjoyed those few moments. For when I came, I found that the
countess was out, and I have no doubt that she is gone all over the
town to claim for herself the honour of the comedy you gave me under
her name.
VISC. But, pray, when will you put an end to this, and make me buy
less dearly the happiness of seeing you?
JU. When our parents agree, which I scarcely dare hope for. You know
as well as I do that the dissensions which exist between our two
families deprive us of the possibility of seeing each other anywhere
else, and that neither my brothers nor my father are likely to approve
of our engagement.
VISC. Yes; but why not profit better by the opportunity which their
enmity gives us, and why oblige me to waste, under a ridiculous
deception, the moments I pass near you?
JU. It is the better to hide our love; and, besides, to tell you the
truth, this deception you speak of is to me a very amusing comedy, and
I hardly think that the one you give me to-day will amuse me as much.
Our Countess of Escarbagnas, with her perpetual infatuation for
"quality," is as good a personage as can be put on the stage. The
short journey she has made to Paris has brought her back to Angoulême
more crazy than ever. The air of the court has given a new charm to
her extravagance, and her folly grows and increases every day.
VISC. Yes; but you do not take into consideration that what amuses you
drives me to despair; and that one cannot dissimulate long when one is
under the sway of love as true as that which I feel for you. It is
cruel to think, dear Julia, that this amusement of yours should
deprive me of the few moments during which I could speak to you of my
love, and last night I wrote on the subject some verses that I cannot
help repeating to you, so true is it that the mania of reciting one's
verses is inseparable from the title of a poet:
"Iris, too long thou keepst on torture's rack
One who obeys thy laws, yet whisp'ring chides
In that thou bidst me boast a joy I lack,
And hush the sorrow that my bosom hides.
Must thy dear eyes, to which I yield my arms,
From my sad sighs draw wanton pleasure still?
Is't not enough to suffer for thy charms
That I must grieve at thy capricious will?
This double martyrdom a pain affords
Too keen to bear at once; thy deeds, thy words,
Work on my wasting heart a cruel doom,
Love bids it burn; constraint its life doth chill.
If pity soften not thy wayward will,
Love, feigned and real, will lead me to the tomb."
JU. I see that you make yourself out much more ill--used than you
need; but it is the way with you poets to tell falsehoods in cold
blood, and to pretend that those you love are much more cruel than
they are, in order to make them correspond to the fancies you may take
into your heads. Yet, I should like you, if you will, to give me those
verses in writing.
VISC. No, it is enough that I have repeated them to you, and I ought
to stop there. A man may be foolish enough to make verses, but that is
different from giving them to others.
JU. It is in vain for you to affect a false modesty; your wit is well
known, and I do not see why you should hide what you write.
VISC. Ah! we must tread here with the greatest circumspection. It is a
dangerous thing to set up for a wit. There is inherent to it a certain
touch of absurdity which is catching, and we should be warned by the
example of some of our friends.
JU. Nonsense, Cléante; I see that, in spite of all you say, you are
longing to give me your verses; and I feel sure that you would be very
unhappy if I pretended not to care for them.
VISC. I unhappy? Oh! dear no, I am not so much of a poet for you to
think that I ... but here is the Countess of Escarbagnas; I'll go by
this door, so as not to meet her, and will see that everything is got
ready for the play I have promised you.
SCENE II.--THE COUNTESS, JULIA; ANDRÉE and CRIQUET _in the
background_.
COUN. What, Madam, are you alone? Ah! what a shame! All alone! I
thought my people had told me that the Viscount was here.
JU. It is true that he came, but it was sufficient for him to know
that you were not at home; he would not stop after that.
COUN. What! did he see you?
JU. Yes.
COUN. And did he not stop to talk with you?
JU. No, Madam; he wished to show you how very much he is struck by
your charms.
COUN. Still, I shall call him to account for that. However much any
one may be in love with me, I wish them to pay to our sex the homage
that is due to it. I am not one of those unjust women who approve of
the rudeness their lovers display towards other fair ones.
JU. You must in no way be surprised at his conduct. The love he has
for you shows itself in all his actions, and prevents him from caring
for anybody but you.
COUN. I know that I can give rise to a strong passion; I have for that
enough of beauty, youth, and rank, thank Heaven; but it is no reason
why those who love me should not keep within the bounds of propriety
towards others. (_Seeing_ CRIQUET.) What are you doing there,
little page? is there not an ante-room for you to be in until you are
called? It is a strange thing that in the provinces we cannot meet
with a servant who knows his place! To whom do you think I am
speaking? Why do you not move? Will you go outside, little knave that
you are!
SCENE III.--THE COUNTESS, JULIA, ANDRÉE.
COUN. Come hither, girl.
AND. What do you wish me to do, Ma'am?
COUN. To take off my head-dress. Gently, you awkward girl: how roughly
yon touch my head with your heavy hands!
AND. I do it as gently as I can, Ma'am.
COUN. No doubt; but what you call gently is very rough treatment for
my head. You have almost put my neck out of joint. Now, take also this
muff; go and put it with the rest into the closet; don't leave
anything about. Well! where is she going to now? What is the stupid
girl doing?
AND. I am going to take this into the closet, as you told me, Ma'am.
COUN. Ah! heavens! (_To_ JULIA) Pray, excuse her rudeness, Madam.
(_To_ ANDRÉE) I told you my closet, great ass; that is the place
where I keep my dresses.
AND. Please, Ma'am, is a cupboard called a closet at court?
COUN. Yes, dunce; it is thus that a place where clothes are kept is
called.
AND. I will remember it, Ma'am, as well as the word furniture
warehouse for your attic.
SCENE IV.--THE COUNTESS, JULIA.
COUN. What trouble it gives me to have to teach such simpletons.
JU. I think them very fortunate to be under your discipline, Madam.
COUN. She is my nurse's daughter, whom I have made lady's-maid; the
post is quite new to her, as yet.
JU. It shows a generous soul, Madam, and it is glorious thus to form
people.
COUN. Come, some seats, I say! Here, little page! little page! little
page-boy! Truly, this is too bad not to have a page to give us chairs!
My maids! my page! my page! my maids! Ho! somebody! I really think
that they must be all dead, and that we shall have to find seats for
ourselves.
SCENE V.--THE COUNTESS, JULIA, ANDRÉE.
AND. What is it you want, Ma'am?
COUN. You do make people scream after you, you servants!
AND. I was putting your muff and head-dress away in the cup ... in the
closet, I mean.
COUN. Call in that rascal of a page.
AND. I say, Criquet!
COUN. Cease that "Criquet" of yours, stupid, and call out "Page."
AND. Page then, and not Criquet, come and speak to missis. I think he
must be deaf. Criq ... Page! page!
SCENE VI.--THE COUNTESS, JULIA, ANDRÉE, CRIQUET.
CRI. What is it you want?
COUN. Where were you, you rascal?
CRI. In the street, Ma'am.
COUN. Why in the street?
CRI. You told me to go outside.
COUN. You are a rude little fellow, and you ought to know that outside
among people of quality, means the ante-room. Andrée, mind you ask my
equerry to flog this little rogue. He is an incorrigible little
wretch.
AND. Whom do you mean by your equerry, Ma'am? Is it Mr. Charles you
call by that name?
COUN. Be silent, impertinent girl! You can hardly open your month
without making some rude remark. (_To_ CRIQUET) Quick, some
seats; (_to_ ANDRÉE) and you, light two wax candles in my silver
candlesticks; it is getting late. What is it now? why do you look so
scared?
AND. Ma'am.
COUN. Well--Ma'am--what is the matter?
AND. It is that....
COUN. What?
AND. I have no wax candles, but only dips.
COUN. The simpleton! And where are the wax candles I bought a few days
ago?
AND. I have seen none since I have been here.
COUN. Get out from my presence, rude girl. I will send you back to
your home again. Bring me a glass of water.
SCENE VII.--THE COUNTESS and JULIA (_making much ceremony before
they sit down_).
COUN. Madam
JU. Madam!
COUN. Ah! Madam!
JU. Ah! Madam!
COUN. Madam, I beg of you!
JU. Madam, I beg of you!
COUN. Oh! Madam!
JU. Oh! Madam!
COUN. Pray, Madam!
JU. Pray, Madam!
COUN. Now really, Madam!
JU. Now really, Madam!
COUN. I am in my own house, Madam! We are agreed as to that. Do you
take me for a provincial, Madam?
JU. Oh! Heaven forbid, Madam!
SCENE VIII.--THE COUNTESS, JULIA, ANDRÉE (_who brings a glass of
water_), CRIQUET.
COUN. (_to_ ANDRÉE). Get along with you, you hussy. I drink with
a salver. I tell you that you must go and fetch me a salver.
AND. Criquet, what's a salver?
CRI. A salver?
AND. Yes.
CRI. I don't know.
COUN. (_to_ ANDRÉE). Will you move, or will you not?
AND. We don't either of us know what a salver is.
COUN. Know, then, that it is a plate on which you put the glass.
SCENE IX.--THE COUNTESS, JULIA.
COUN. Long live Paris! It is only there that one is well waited upon;
there a glance is enough.
SCENE X.--THE COUNTESS, JULIA, ANDRÉE (_who brings a glass of water,
with a plate on the top of it_), CRIQUET.
COUN. Is that what I asked you for, dunderhead? It is under that you
must put the plate.
AND. That is easy to do. (_She breaks the glass in trying to put it
on the plate_.)
COUN. You stupid girl! You shall really pay for the glass; you shall,
I promise you!
AND. Very well, Ma'am, I will pay you for it.
COUN. But did you ever see such an awkward loutish girl? such a....
AND. I say, Ma'am, if I am to pay for the glass, I won't be scolded
into the bargain.
COUN. Get out of my sight.
SCENE XI.--THE COUNTESS, JULIA.
COUN. Really, Madam, small towns are strange places. In them there is
no respect of persons, and I have just been making a few calls at
houses where they drove me almost to despair; so little regard did
they pay to my rank.
JU. Where could you expect them to have learnt manners? They have
never been to Paris.
COUN. Still, they might learn, if they would only listen to one; but
what I think too bad is that they will persist in saying that they
know as much as I do--I who have spent two months in Paris, and have
seen the whole court.
JU. What absurd people!
COUN. They are unbearable in the impertinent equality with which they
treat people. For, in short, there ought to be a certain subordination
in things; and what puts me out of all patience is that a town
upstart, whether with two days' gentility to boast of or with two
hundred years', should have impudence enough to say that he is as much
of a gentleman as my late husband, who lived in the country, kept a
pack of hounds, and took the title of Count in all the deeds that he
signed.
JU. They know better how to live in Paris, in those large hotels you
must remember with such pleasure! That Hotel of Mouchy, Madam; that
Hotel of Lyons, that Hotel of Holland, what charming places to live
in![Footnote: Instead of naming the hotels (= mansions) of the great
noblemen, Julia names the hotels (= inns) of the time. She thus shows
where the countess had studied the aristocracy.]
COUN. It is true that those places are very different from what we
have here. You see there people of quality who do not hesitate to show
you all the respect and consideration which you look for. One is not
under the obligation of rising from one's seat, and if one wants to
see a review or the great ballet of Psyche, your wishes are at once
attended to.
JU. I should think, Madam, that during your stay in Paris you made
many a conquest among the people of quality.
COUN. You can readily believe, Madam, that of all the famous court
gallants not one failed to come to my door and pay his respects to me.
I keep in my casket some of the letters sent me, and can prove by them
what offers I have refused. There is no need for me to tell you their
names; you know what is meant by court gallants.
JU. I wonder, Madam, how, after all those great names, which I can
easily guess, you can descend to Mr. Thibaudier, a councillor, and Mr.
Harpin, a collector of taxes? The fall is great, I must say. For your
viscount, although nothing but a country viscount, is still a
viscount, and can take a journey to Paris if he has not been there
already. But a councillor and a tax-gatherer are but poor lovers for a
great countess like you.
COUN. They are men whom one treats kindly in the country, in order to
make use of when the need arises. They serve to fill up the gaps of
gallantry, and to swell the ranks of one's lovers. It is a good thing
not to leave a lover the sole master of one's heart, lest, for want of
rivals, his love go to sleep through over-confidence.
JU. I confess, Madam, that no one can help profiting wonderfully by
all you say. Your conversation is a school, to which I do not fail to
come every day in order to learn something new.
SCENE XII.--THE COUNTESS, JULIA, ANDRÉE, CRIQUET.
CRI. (_to the_ COUNTESS). Here is Jeannot, Mr. Thibaudier's man,
who wants to see you, Ma'am.
COUN. Ah! you little wretch, this is another of your stupidities. A
well-bred lackey would have spoken in a whisper to the gentlewoman in
attendance; the latter would have come to her mistress and have
whispered in her ear: "Here is the footman of Mr. So-and-so, who wants
to speak to you, Madam." To which the mistress would have answered,
"Show him in."
SCENE XIII.--THE COUNTESS, JULIA, ANDRÉE, CRIQUET, JEANNOT.
CRI. Come along in, Jeannot.
COUN. Another blunder. (_To_ JEANNOT) What do you want, page?
What have you there?
JEAN. It is Mr. Thibaudier, Ma'am, who wishes you good morning, and,
before he comes, sends you some pears out of his garden, with this
small note.
SCENE XIV.--THE COUNTESS, CRIQUET, JEANNOT.
COUN. (_giving some money to_ JEANNOT). Here, my boy; here is
something for your trouble.
JEAN. Oh no, thank you, Ma'am.
COUN. Take it, I say.
JEAN. My master told me not take anything from you Ma'am.
COUN. Never mind, take it all the same.
JEAN. Excuse me, Ma'am.
CRI. Take it, Jeannot. If you don't want it, you can give it me.
COUN. Tell your master that I thank him.
CRI. (_to_ JEANNOT, _who is going_). Give it to me, Jeannot.
JEA. Yes, you catch me.
CRI. It was I who made you take it.
JEA. I should have taken it without your help.
COUN. What pleases me in this Mr. Thibaudier is that he knows how to
behave with people of my quality, and that he is very respectful.
SCENE XV.--THE VISCOUNT, THE COUNTESS, JULIA, CRIQUET.
VISC. I come to tell you, Madam, that the theatricals will soon be
ready, and that we can go into the hall in a quarter of an hour.
COUN. Mind, I will have no crowd after me. (_To_ CRIQUET) Tell
the porter not to let anybody come in.
VISC. If so, Madam, I give up our theatricals. I could take no
interest in them unless the spectators are numerous. Believe me, if
you want to enjoy it thoroughly, tell your people to let the whole
town in.
COUN. Page, a seat. (_To the_ VISCOUNT, _after he is
seated_) You have come just in time to accept a self-sacrifice I am
willing to make to you. Look, I have here a note from Mr. Thibaudier,
who sends me some pears. I give you leave to read it aloud; I have not
opened it yet.
VISC. (_after he has read the note to himself_). This note is
written in the most fashionable style, Madam, and is worthy of all
your attention. (_Reads aloud_) "Madam, I could not have made you
the present I send you if my garden did not bring me more fruit than
my love...."
COUN. You see clearly by this that nothing has taken place between us.
VISC. "The pears are not quite ripe yet, but they will all the better
match the hardness of your heart, the continued disdain of which
promises me nothing soft and sweet. Allow me, Madam, without risking
an enumeration of your charms, which would be endless, to conclude
with begging you to consider that I am as good a Christian as the
pears which I send you, [Footnote: They were pears 'de bon chrétien.'
'Choke-pears' renders rather weakly the _poires d'angoisse_ of
Mr. Thibaudier.] for I render good for evil; which is to say, to
explain myself more plainly, that I present you with good Christian
pears in return for the choke-pears which your cruelty makes me
swallow every day.
Your unworthy slave,
THIBAUDIER."
Madam, this letter is worth keeping.
COUN. There may be a few words in it that are not of the Academy, but
I observe in it a certain respect which pleases me greatly.
JU. You are right, Madam, and even if the viscount were to take it
amiss, I should love a man who would write so to me.
SCENE XVI.--MR. THIBAUDIER, THE VISCOUNT, THE COUNTESS, JULIA,
CRIQUET.
COUN. Come here, Mr. Thibaudier; do not be afraid of coming in. Your
note was well received, and so were your pears; and there is a lady
here who takes your part against your rival.
THI. I am much obliged to her, Madam, and if ever she has a lawsuit in
our court, she may be sure that I shall not forget the honour she does
me in making herself the advocate of my flame near your beauty.
JU. You have no need of an advocate, Sir, and your cause has justice
on its side.
THI. This, nevertheless. Madam, the right has need of help, and I have
reason to apprehend the being supplanted by such a rival, and the
beguiling of the lady by the rank of the viscount.
VISC. I had hopes before your note came, Sir, but now, I confess fears
for my love.
THI. Here are likewise a few little couplets which I have composed to
your honour and glory, Madam.
VISC. Ah! I had no idea that Mr. Thibaudier was a poet; these few
little couplets will be my ruin.
COUN. He means two strophes. (_To_ CRIQUET) Page, give a seat to
Mr. Thibaudier. (_Aside to_ CRIQUET, _who brings a chair_) A
folding-chair, little animal! [Footnote: Compare 'Tartuffe,' act ii.
scene iii.] Mr. Thibaudier, sit down there, and read your strophes to
us.
THI. (_reads_).
"A person of quality
Is my fair dame;
She has got beauty,
Fierce is my flame;
Yet I must blame
Her pride and cruelty."
VISC. I am lost after that.
COUN. The first line is excellent: "A person of quality."
JU. I think it is a little too long; but a liberty may be taken to
express a noble thought.
COUN. (_to_ MR. THIBAUDIER). Let us have the other.
THI. (_reads_).
"I know not if you doubt that my love be sincere,
Yet this I know, that my heart every moment
Longs to leave its sorry apartment
To visit yours, with fond respect and fear.
After all this, having my love in hand,
And my honour, of superfine brand,
You ought, in turn, I say,
Content to be a countess gay,
To cast that tigress' skin away,
Which hides your charms both night and day."
VISC. I am undone by Mr. Thibaudier.
COUN. Do not make fun of it; for the verses are good although they are
country verses.
VISC. I, Madam, make fun of it! Though he is my rival, I think his
verses admirable. I do not call them, like you, two strophes merely;
but two epigrams, as good as any of Martial's.
COUN. What! Does Martial make verses? I thought he only made gloves.
THI. It is not that Martial, Madam, but an author who lived thirty or
forty years ago.[Footnote: The Martial who _did not write
verses_, sold perfumery, and was valet-de-chambre to the king's
brother. Martial, the Roman epigrammatist, lived in the first century
after Christ.]
VISC. Mr. Thibaudier has read the authors, as you see. But, Madam, we
shall see if my comedy, with its interludes and dances, will
counteract in your mind the progress which the two strophes have made.
COUN. My son the Count must be one of the spectators, for he came this
morning from my country-seat, with his tutor, whom I see here.
SCENE XVII.--THE COUNTESS, JULIA, THE VISCOUNT, MR. THIBAUDIER, MR.
BOBINET, CRIQUET.
COUN. Mr. Bobinet, I say, Mr. Bobinet, come forward.
BOB. I give the good evening to all this honourable company. What does
Madam the Countess of Escarbagnas want of her humble servant Bobinet?
COUN. At what time, Mr. Bobinet, did you leave Escarbagnas with the
Count my son?
BOB. At a quarter to nine, my lady, according to your orders.
COUN. How are my two other sons, the Marquis and the Commander?
BOB. They are, Heaven be thanked, in perfect health.
COUN. Where is the Count?
BOB. In your beautiful room, with a recess in it, Madam.
COUN. What is he doing, Mr. Bobinet?
BOB. Madam, he is composing an essay upon one of the epistles of
Cicero, which I have just given him as a subject.