The Miser
Har. You will not kill yourself, and you will marry him. But did you ever see such impudence? Did ever any one hear a daughter speak in such a fashion to her father?
Eli. But did ever anyone see a father marry his daughter after such a fashion?
Har. It is a match against which nothing can be said, and I am perfectly sure that everybody will approve of my choice.
Eli. And I know that it will be approved of by no reasonable person.
Har. (seeing Valère). There is Valère coming. Shall we make him judge in this affair?
Eli. Willingly.
Har. You will abide by what he says?
Eli. Yes, whatever he thinks right, I will do.
Har. Agreed.
SCENE VII. – VALÈRE, HARPAGON, ÉLISE
Har. Valère, we have chosen you to decide who is in the right, my daughter or I.
Val. It is certainly you, Sir.
Har. But have you any idea of what we are talking about?
Val. No; but you could not be in the wrong; you are reason itself.
Har. I want to give her to-night, for a husband, a man as rich as he is good; and the hussy tells me to my face that she scorns to take him. What do you say to that?
Val. What I say to it?
Har. Yes?
Val. Eh! eh!
Har. What?
Val. I say that I am, upon the whole, of your opinion, and that you cannot but be right; yet, perhaps, she is not altogether wrong; and …
Har. How so? Mr. Anselme is an excellent match; he is a nobleman, and a gentleman too; of simple habits, and extremely well off. He has no children left from his first marriage. Could she meet with anything more suitable?
Val. It is true. But she might say that you are going rather fast, and that she ought to have at least a little time to consider whether her inclination could reconcile itself to …
Har. It is an opportunity I must not allow to slip through my fingers. I find an advantage here which I should not find elsewhere, and he agrees to take her without dowry.
Val. Without dowry?
Har. Yes.
Val. Ah! I have nothing more to say. A more convincing reason could not be found; and she must yield to that.
Har. It is a considerable saving to me.
Val. Undoubtedly; this admits of no contradiction. It is true that your daughter might represent to you that marriage is a more serious affair than people are apt to believe; that the happiness or misery of a whole life depends on it, and that an engagement which is to last till death ought not to be entered into without great consideration.
Har. Without dowry!
Val. That must of course decide everything. There are certainly people who might tell you that on such occasions the wishes of a daughter are no doubt to be considered, and that this great disparity of age, of disposition, and of feelings might be the cause of many an unpleasant thing in a married life.
Har. Without dowry!
Val. Ah! it must be granted that there is no reply to that; who in the world could think otherwise? I do not mean to say but that there are many fathers who would set a much higher value on the happiness of their daughter than on the money they may have to give for their marriage; who would not like to sacrifice them to their own interests, and who would, above all things, try to see in a marriage that sweet conformity of tastes which is a sure pledge of honour, tranquillity and joy; and that …
Har. Without dowry!
Val. That is true; nothing more can be said. Without dowry. How can anyone resist such arguments?
Har. (aside, looking towards the garden). Ah! I fancy I hear a dog barking. Is anyone after my money. (To Valère) Stop here, I'll come back directly.
SCENE VIII. – ÉLISE, VALÈRE
Eli. Surely, Valère, you are not in earnest when you speak to him in that manner?
Val. I do it that I may not vex him, and the better to secure my ends. To resist him boldly would simply spoil everything. There are certain people who are only to be managed by indirect means, temperaments averse from all resistance, restive natures whom truth causes to rear, who always kick when we would lead them on the right road of reason, and who can only be led by a way opposed to that by which you wish them to go. Pretend to comply with his wishes; you are much more likely to succeed in the end, and …
Eli. But this marriage, Valère?
Val. We will find some pretext for breaking it off.
Eli. But what pretext can we find if it is to be concluded to-night?
Val. You must ask to have it delayed, and must feign some illness or other.
Eli. But he will soon discover the truth if they call in the doctor.
Val. Not a bit of it. Do you imagine that a doctor understands what he is about? Nonsense! Don't be afraid. Believe me, you may complain of any disease you please, the doctor will be at no loss to explain to you from what it proceeds.
SCENE IX – HARPAGON, ÉLISE, VALÈRE
Har. (alone, at the farther end of the stage). It is nothing, thank heaven!
Val. (not seeing Harpagon). In short, flight is the last resource we have left us to avoid all this; and if your love, dear Élise, is as strong as … (Seeing Harpagon) Yes, a daughter is bound to obey her father. She has no right to inquire what a husband offered to her is like, and when the most important question, "without dowry," presents itself, she should accept anybody that is given her.
Har. Good; that was beautifully said!
Val. I beg your pardon, Sir, if I carry it a little too far, and take upon myself to speak to her as I do.
Har. Why, I am delighted, and I wish you to have her entirely under your control. (To Élise) Yes, you may run away as much as you like. I give him all the authority over you that heaven has given me, and I will have you do all that he tells you.
Val. After that, resist all my expostulations, if you can.
SCENE X. – HARPAGON, VALÈRE
Val. I will follow her, Sir, if you will allow me, and will continue the lecture I was giving her.
Har. Yes, do so; you will oblige me greatly.
Val. She ought to be kept in with a tight hand.
Har. Quite true, you must …
Val. Do not be afraid; I believe I shall end by convincing her.
Har. Do so, do so. I am going to take a short stroll in the town, and I will come back again presently.
Val. (going towards the door through which Élise left, and speaking as if it were to her). Yes, money is more precious than anything else in the world, and you should thank heaven that you have so worthy a man for a father. He knows what life is. When a man offers to marry a girl without a dowry, we ought to look no farther. Everything is comprised in that, and "without dowry" compensates for want of beauty, youth, birth, honour, wisdom, and probity.
Har. Ah! the honest fellow! he speaks like an oracle. Happy is he who can secure such a servant!
ACT II
SCENE I. – CLÉANTE, LA FLÈCHE
Cle. How now, you rascal! where have you been hiding? Did I not give you orders to…?
La Fl. Yes, Sir, and I came here resolved to wait for you without stirring, but your father, that most ungracious of men, drove me into the street in spite of myself, and I well nigh got a good drubbing into the bargain.
Cle. How is our affair progressing? Things are worse than ever for us, and since I left you, I have discovered that my own father is my rival.
La Fl. Your father in love?
Cle. It seems so; and I found it very difficult to hide from him what I felt at such a discovery.
La Fl. He meddling with love! What the deuce is he thinking of? Does he mean to set everybody at defiance? And is love made for people of his build?
Cle. It is to punish me for my sins that this passion has entered his head.
La Fl. But why do you hide your love from him?
Cle. That he may not suspect anything, and to make it more easy for me to fall back, if need be, upon some device to prevent this marriage. What answer did you receive?
La Fl. Indeed, Sir, those who borrow are much to be pitied, and we must put up with strange things when, like you, we are forced to pass through the hands of the usurers.
Cle. Then the affair won't come off?
La Fl. Excuse me; Mr. Simon, the broker who was recommended to us, is a very active and zealous fellow, and says he has left no stone unturned to help you. He assures me that your looks alone have won his heart.
Cle. Shall I have the fifteen thousand francs which I want?
La Fl. Yes, but under certain trifling conditions, which you must accept if you wish the bargain to be concluded.
Cle. Did you speak to the man who is to lend the money?
La Fl. Oh! dear no. Things are not done in that way. He is still more anxious than you to remain unknown. These things are greater mysteries than you think. His name is not by any means to be divulged, and he is to be introduced to you to-day at a house provided by him, so that he may hear from yourself all about your position and your family; and I have not the least doubt that the mere name of your father will be sufficient to accomplish what you wish.
Cle. Particularly as my mother is dead, and they cannot deprive me of what I inherit from her.
La Fl. Well, here are some of the conditions which he has himself dictated to our go-between for you to take cognisance of, before anything is begun.
"Supposing that the lender is satisfied with all his securities, and that the borrower is of age and of a family whose property is ample, solid, secure, and free from all incumbrances, there shall be drawn up a good and correct bond before as honest a notary as it is possible to find, and who for this purpose shall be chosen by the lender, because he is the more concerned of the two that the bond should be rightly executed."
Cle. There is nothing to say against that.
LA FA. "The lender, not to burden his conscience with the least scruple, does not wish to lend his money at more than five and a half per cent."
Cle. Five and a half per cent? By Jove, that's honest! We have nothing to complain of.
La Fl. That's true.
"But as the said lender has not in hand the sum required, and as, in order to oblige the borrower, he is himself obliged to borrow from another at the rate of twenty per cent., it is but right that the said first borrower shall pay this interest, without detriment to the rest; since it is only to oblige him that the said lender is himself forced to borrow."
Cle. The deuce! What a Jew! what a Turk we have here! That is more than twenty-five per cent.
La Fl. That's true; and it is the remark I made. It is for you to consider the matter before you act.
Cle. How can I consider? I want the money, and I must therefore accept everything.
La Fl. That is exactly what I answered.
Cle. Is there anything else?
La Fl. Only a small item.
"Of the fifteen thousand francs which are demanded, the lender will only be able to count down twelve thousand in hard cash; instead of the remaining three thousand, the borrower will have to take the chattels, clothing, and jewels, contained in the following catalogue, and which the said lender has put in all good faith at the lowest possible figure."
Cle. What is the meaning of all that?
La Fl. I'll go through the catalogue: —
"Firstly: – A fourpost bedstead, with hangings of Hungary lace very elegantly trimmed with olive-coloured cloth, and six chairs and a counterpane to match; the whole in very good condition, and lined with soft red and blue shot-silk. Item: – the tester of good pale pink Aumale serge, with the small and the large fringes of silk."
Cle. What does he want me to do with all this?
La Fl. Wait.
"Item: – Tapestry hangings representing the loves of Gombaud and Macée.1 Item: – A large walnut table with twelve columns or turned legs, which draws out at both ends, and is provided beneath with six stools."
Cle. Hang it all! What am I to do with all this?
La Fl. Have patience.
"Item: – Three large matchlocks inlaid with mother-of-pearl, with rests to correspond. Item: – A brick furnace with two retorts and three receivers, very useful to those who have any taste for distilling."
Cle. You will drive me crazy.
La Fl. Gently!
"Item: – A Bologna lute with all its strings, or nearly all. Item: – A pigeon-hole table and a draught-board, and a game of mother goose, restored from the Greeks, most useful to pass the time when one has nothing to do. Item: – A lizard's skin, three feet and a half in length, stuffed with hay, a pleasing curiosity to hang on the ceiling of a room. The whole of the above-mentioned articles are really worth more than four thousand five hundred francs, and are reduced to the value of a thousand crowns through the considerateness of the lender."
Cle. Let the plague choke him with his considerateness, the wretch, the cut-throat that he is! Did ever anyone hear of such usury? Is he not satisfied with the outrageous interest he asks that he must force me to take, instead of the three thousand francs, all the old rubbish which he picks up. I shan't get two hundred crowns for all that, and yet I must bring myself to yield to all his wishes; for he is in a position to force me to accept everything, and he has me, the villain, with a knife at my throat.
La Fl. I see you, Sir, if you'll forgive my saying so, on the high-road followed by Panurge2 to ruin himself – taking money in advance, buying dear, selling cheap, and cutting your corn while it is still grass.
Cle. What would you have me do? It is to this that young men are reduced by the accursed avarice of their fathers; and people are astonished after that, that sons long for their death.
La Fl. No one can deny that yours would excite against his meanness the most quiet of men. I have not, thank God, any inclination gallows- ward, and among my colleagues whom I see dabbling in various doubtful affairs, I know well enough how to keep myself out of hot water, and how to keep clear of all those things which savour ever so little of the ladder; but to tell you the truth, he almost gives me, by his ways of going on, the desire of robbing him, and I should think that in doing so I was doing a meritorious action.
Cle. Give me that memorandum that I may have another look at it.
SCENE II. – HARPAGON, MR. SIMON (CLÉANTE and LA FLÈCHE at the back of the stage)
Sim. Yes, Sir; it is a young man who is greatly in want of money; his affairs force him to find some at any cost, and he will submit to all your conditions.
Har. But are you sure, Mr. Simon, that there is no risk to run in this case? and do you know the name, the property, and the family of him for whom you speak?
Sim. No; I cannot tell you anything for certain, as it was by mere chance that I was made acquainted with him; but he will tell you everything himself, and his servant has assured me that you will be quite satisfied when you know who he is. All I can tell you is that his family is said to be very wealthy, that he has already lost his mother, and that he will pledge you his word, if you insist upon it, that his father will die before eight months are passed.
Har. That is something. Charity, Mr. Simon, demands of us to gratify people whenever we have it in our power.
Sim. Evidently.
La Fl. (aside to Cléante, on recognising Mr. Simon). What does this mean? Mr. Simon talking with your father!
Cle. (aside to La Flèche). Has he been told who I am, and would you be capable of betraying me?
Sim. (to Cléante and La Flèche). Ah! you are in good time! But who told you to come here? (To Harpagon) It was certainly not I who told them your name and address; but I am of opinion that there is no great harm done; they are people who can be trusted, and you can come to some understanding together.
Har. What!
Sim. (showing Cléante). This is the gentleman who wants to borrow the fifteen thousand francs of which I have spoken to you.
Har. What! miscreant! is it you who abandon yourself to such excesses?
Cle. What! father! is it you who stoop to such shameful deeds?
(M. Simon runs away, and La Flèche hides himself.)
SCENE III. – HARPAGON, CLÉANTE
Har. It is you who are ruining yourself by loans so greatly to be condemned!
Cle. So it is you who seek to enrich yourself by such criminal usury!
Har. And you dare, after that, to show yourself before me?
Cle. And you dare, after that, to show yourself to the world?
Har. Are you not ashamed, tell me, to descend to these wild excesses, to rush headlong into frightful expenses, and disgracefully to dissipate the wealth which your parents have amassed with so much toil.
Cle. Are you not ashamed of dishonouring your station by such dealings, of sacrificing honour and reputation to the insatiable desire of heaping crown upon crown, and of outdoing the most infamous devices that have ever been invented by the most notorious usurers?
Har. Get out of my sight, you reprobate; get out of my sight!
Cle. Who is the more criminal in your opinion: he who buys the money of which he stands in need, or he who obtains, by unfair means, money for which he has no use?
Har. Begone, I say, and do not provoke me to anger. (Alone) After all, I am not very much vexed at this adventure; it will be a lesson to me to keep a better watch over all his doings.
SCENE IV. – FROSINE, HARPAGON
Fro. Sir.
Har. Wait a moment, I will come back and speak to you. (Aside) I had better go and see a little after my money.
SCENE V. – LA FLÈCHE, FROSINE
La Fl. (without seeing Frosine). The adventure is most comical. Hidden somewhere he must have a large store of goods of all kinds, for the list did not contain one single article which either of us recognised.
Fro. Hallo! is it you, my poor La Flèche? How is it we meet here?
La Fl. Ah! ah! it is you, Frosine; and what have you come to do here?
Fro. What have I come to do? Why! what I do everywhere else, busy myself about other people's affairs, make myself useful to the community in general, and profit as much as I possibly can by the small talent I possess. Must we not live by our wits in this world? and what other resources have people like me but intrigue and cunning?
La Fl. Have you, then, any business with the master of this house?
Fro. Yes. I am transacting for him a certain small matter for which he is pretty sure to give me a reward.
La Fl. He give you a reward! Ah! ah! Upon my word, you will be 'cute if you ever get one, and I warn you that ready money is very scarce hereabouts.
Fro. That may be, but there are certain services which wonderfully touch our feelings.
La Fl. Your humble servant; but as yet you don't know Harpagon. Harpagon is the human being of all human beings the least humane, the mortal of all mortals the hardest and closest. There is no service great enough to induce him to open his purse. If, indeed, you want praise, esteem, kindness, and friendship, you are welcome to any amount; but money, that's a different affair. There is nothing more dry, more barren, than his favour and his good grace, and "give" is a word for which he has such a strong dislike that he never says I give, but I lend, you a good morning.
Fro. That's all very well; but I know the art of fleecing men. I have a secret of touching their affections by flattering their hearts, and of finding out their weak points.
La Fl. All useless here. I defy you to soften, as far as money is concerned, the man we are speaking of. He is a Turk on that point, of a Turkishness to drive anyone to despair, and we might starve in his presence and never a peg would he stir. In short, he loves money better than reputation, honour, and virtue, and the mere sight of anyone making demands upon his purse sends him into convulsions; it is like striking him in a vital place, it is piercing him to the heart, it is like tearing out his very bowels! And if … But here he comes again; I leave you.
SCENE VI. – HARPAGON, FROSINE
Har. (aside). All is as it should be. (To Frosine) Well, what is it, Frosine?
Fro. Bless me, how well you look! You are the very picture of health.
Har. Who? I?
Fro. Never have I seen you looking more rosy, more hearty.
Har. Are you in earnest?
Fro. Why! you have never been so young in your life; and I know many a man of twenty-five who looks much older than you do.
Har. And yet, Frosine, I have passed threescore.
Fro. Threescore! Well, and what then? You don't mean to make a trouble of that, do you? It's the very flower of manhood, the threshold of the prime of life.
Har. True; but twenty years less would do me no harm, I think.
Fro. Nonsense! You've no need of that, and you are of a build to last out a hundred.
Har. Do you really think so?
Fro. Decidedly. You have all the appearance of it. Hold yourself up a little. Ah! what a sign of long life is that line there straight between your two eyes!
Har. You know all about that, do you?
Fro. I should think I do. Show me your hand.3 Dear me, what a line of life there is there!
Har. Where?
Fro. Don't you see how far this line goes?
Har. Well, and what does it mean?
Fro. What does it mean? There … I said a hundred years; but no, it is one hundred and twenty I ought to have said.
Har. Is it possible?
Fro. I tell you they will have to kill you, and you will bury your children and your children's children.
Har. So much the better! And what news of our affair?
Fro. Is there any need to ask? Did ever anyone see me begin anything and not succeed in it? I have, especially for matchmaking, the most wonderful talent. There are no two persons in the world I could not couple together; and I believe that, if I took it into my head, I could make the Grand Turk marry the Republic of Venice.4 But we had, to be sure, no such difficult thing to achieve in this matter. As I know the ladies very well, I told them every particular about you; and I acquainted the mother with your intentions towards Marianne since you saw her pass in the street and enjoy the fresh air out of her window.
Har. What did she answer…?
Fro. She received your proposal with great joy; and when I told her that you wished very much that her daughter should come to-night to assist at the marriage contract which is to be signed for your own daughter, she assented at once, and entrusted her to me for the purpose.
Har. You see, Frosine, I am obliged to give some supper to Mr. Anselme, and I should like her to have a share in the feast.
Fro. You are quite right. She is to come after dinner to pay a visit to your daughter; then she means to go from here to the fair, and return to your house just in time for supper.
Har. That will do very well; they shall go together in my carriage, which I will lend them.
Fro. That will suit her perfectly.
Har. But I say, Frosine, have you spoken to the mother about the dowry she can give her daughter? Did you make her understand that under such circumstances she ought to do her utmost and to make a great sacrifice? For, after all, one does not marry a girl without her bringing something with her.
Fro. How something! She is a girl who will bring you a clear twelve thousand francs a year?
Har. Twelve thousand francs a year?
Fro. Yes! To begin with, she has been nursed and brought up with the strictest notions of frugality. She is a girl accustomed to live upon salad, milk, cheese, and apples, and who consequently will require neither a well served up table, nor any rich broth, nor your everlasting peeled barley; none, in short, of all those delicacies that another woman would want. This is no small matter, and may well amount to three thousand francs yearly. Besides this, she only cares for simplicity and neatness; she will have none of those splendid dresses and rich jewels, none of that sumptuous furniture in which girls like her indulge so extravagantly; and this item is worth more than four thousand francs per annum. Lastly, she has the deepest aversion to gambling; and this is not very common nowadays among women. Why, I know of one in our neighbourhood who lost at least twenty thousand francs this year. But let us reckon only a fourth of that sum. Five thousand francs a year at play and four thousand in clothes and jewels make nine thousand; and three thousand francs which we count for food, does it not make your twelve thousand francs?
