Moliere at Ninon's, or The Reading of Tartuffe

By Chazet and Dubois

Etext by Dagny
This Etext is for private use only. No republication for profit in 
print or other media may be made without the express consent of the 
Copyright Holder. The Copyright Holder is especially concerned about 
performance rights in any media on stage, cinema, or television, or 
audio or any other media, including readings for which an entrance fee 
or the like is charge. Permissions should be addressed to: Frank 
Morlock, 6006 Greenbelt Rd, #312, Greenbelt, MD 20770, USA or 
frankmorlock@msn.com. Other works by this author may be found at 
http://www.cadytech.com/dumas/personnage.asp?key=130

1800

Translated and adapted by


Frank J. Morlock
C 2003





++++++++++++++++++++++++


CHARACTERS


MOLIERE


NINON


PRINCE DE CONDE


PIERRE CORNEILLE


RACINE


BOILEAU


LA FONTAINE


CHAPELLE


SAINT-ALBAN, Secretary to the President


LAFORET, Moliere's servant woman


A PAGE


TWO LORDS


A VALET


++++++++++++++++++++++++


The action takes place in a room belonging to Ninon de l'Enclos
.


++++++++++++++++++++++++





CHAPELLE
: Gentlemen, in a moment you are going to see Ninon.


A LORD
: You seem very emotional.


CHAPELLE
: I am.


A LORD
: Everything is fine!


CHAPELLE
: You don't guess?


A LORD
: Why, I think you understand you.
Ninon has seduced you.


CHAPELLE
: I cannot protect myself against it
I placed my life's happiness under her sway.
Her face, a look, just the sound of her voice
All charm me, animate me, and bring to my soul
The guilty embarrassment of a secret passion.


A LORD
: Isn't Chapelle astonished by his love
He whose heart never burned for more than a day?


CHAPELLE
: Well, Ninon, I think has changed my character.
Firm in friendship, capricious in her loves
I find an invincible attraction in adoring her;
To please is her habit, and to charm is her secret.
As for wit, what a woman! Around her ceaselessly.
Talent, genius, bustles, soars, and surges.
A scholar without pride, a beauty without vanity
Everything is perfection in her, and nothing is borrowed.
She knows how to attract, grace has doubled her arsenal.
Friends for her heart, lovers for her charms
In a word, beauty, wit and reason.
You see everything joined together when you see Ninon
Here she comes.


NINON
: (entering) Pardon if I am unable to give myself —


CHAPELLE
: When hope sustains us, we can wait without pain.


NINON
: Gentlemen, I have some plans for you this evening.


CHAPELLE
: What plans? Madame, ah, dispose of us.


NINON
: Are you free?


A LORD
: Why —


NINON
: Come on, be frank. What gallant scheme?


A LORD
: If I must tell. A certain rendez-vous.


NINON
: You'll be there?


A LORD
: Indeed, yes.


NINON
: (smiling) Indeed you won't.


A LORD
: Why not?


NINON
: You are going to put it off.


A LORD
: We really promised.


NINON
: To fail in one's promise in love is a game. False delicacy!
I can count on you tonight, right?
You are hesitating — Truly — You are whispering?


CHAPELLE
: Can one resist you?


NINON
: Eh, great gods! how much trouble!
I'm only enchaining you for tonight, gentlemen.


CHAPELLE
: Let it be for life!


NINON
: Ah! fine sentiment!
For life! finish up? quickly take an oath
Give me the assurance of an eternal love;
As for me I will swear to you an equal constancy,
We will lie together. But this is very discursive;
Know then why I want to keep you.
This evening they are giving a fine work at the theatre
Whose purpose is moral, whose tone is true, and whose plan is wise,
Whose characters are all new and well delineated.
In a word, a work that is well written, well thought out.
We owe this masterpiece to that clever author
True in all his scenes, natural in his style
Whose bold grace and frank gaiety
Are the sacred titles of immortality.
You recognize him, right?


ALL
: It's Moliere.


NINON
: Tonight his Tartuffe is submitted to the pit.
Now that's why Ninon wants to enchain you.
Well, will you allow yourself to be easily dragged along?
You leave love without regret for genius.
And sad passions for a comedy
There's always time to utter a sigh,
And there's never leisure for a masterpiece.
Indeed, if twenty beauties flatter your hopes
You have only Moliere to celebrate in France.
Come, come tonight— You know my friends
That this illustrious author has many enemies
Even at court; it's necessary united by his victory
By common efforts, to favor his glory.
Trust me: by protecting the flight of Tartuffe
We are protecting a treasure for posterity.


VALET
: (entering) Mr. de Saint-Alban.


NINON
: Moliere's enemy!


CHAPELLE
: Eh, what! the odious secretary of the president!


NINON
: (uneasy) I wasn't expecting him and I tremble.


CHAPELLE
: What!


NINON
: This man who feigns a zeal so fervent
Is a holy impostor whose visit conceals
A disturbing purpose. You know that he is determined
To ruin Moliere in the mind
Of the first President, and is a powerful enemy of Tartuffe.
I hear him. You will know all he's going to tell me;
Tonight, at the theatre, be sure to remember to be there.


CHAPELLE
: Yes, Ninon:
To see Tartuffe and bow to your wishes
Instead of a single pleasure, that's to encounter two.


(He leaves with the lords. After they have gone Saint-Alban enters.)


SAINT-ALBAN
: An important motive leads me to you, Madame.


NINON
: I believe it, would you take the trouble—


SAINT-ALBAN
: No, madame, two words and I am leaving momentarily.
In you Moliere finds constant support
They told me?


NINON
: It's true.


SAINT-ALBAN
: You admit it without fear.


NINON
: Moliere is my friend; I say it again without subterfuge.


SAINT-ALBAN
: What a friend! do you know what odious conspiracy
He's inventing to deceive all eyes today?


NINON
: I am unaware of everything; speak.


SAINT-ALBAN
: In confidence, I am
Going to reveal to you this conspiracy; of your trust
You will see that this man is forever unworthy.


NINON
: Why, sir, are you going to speak?


SAINT-ALBAN
: Know these crimes.
You know that he's spreading it about that our great monarch
Who, for once too weak, giving him marks
Of mad friendship, is formally permitting
Them to represent Tartuffe in Paris.


NINON
: Well?


SAINT-ALBAN
: He's lying.
Myself as well as you, I fell into the trap.
But at last I know his criminal plot.
They write me just now by the courier from Lille
That the work is forbidden by the king, proscribed.
You see what trick Moliere was capable of.
Stop receiving such a guilty man
Who to better insult the supporters of the faith
Dares to disguise the will of the king from us.


NINON
: No, sir, I know and esteem Moliere
They want to ruin him but the ruse is very clumsy.
The order is true, actually given, Tartuffe is allowed.
But this order is verbal; evil enemies
Are revoking it by doubting and refusing to believe it.
Moliere is innocent, I love him and I glory in it.
Here at my home, you will see him whatever the weather.
I admire his goodness, his virtues, his talents.


SAINT-ALBAN
: His goodness! when his pen wounds and shreds:
His virtues! when his heart sighs for a thousand female charms
His talents!


NINON
: That's enough; they are known everywhere.
So, let's speak rather of his pretended faults.
Where can you find them in Tartuffe?


SAINT-ALBAN
: Where can I find them? Gods! Why must you be instructed?
Against true believers, his darts and his bon-mots.


NINON
: You are deceiving yourself: far from attacking the devout,
He's offering his genius to religion
To arm reason against hypocrisy.
Saint-Alban, return to your unjust mistake:
Judge better of Moliere and especially his heart.
Beware of imitating this crowd of fools
Who want to kill the mind and enslave thought.
Understand Moliere and guide him and support him
Let, let, his work play today,
And think that everywhere justly he is renowned
Who is the protector of a great man.


SAINT-ALBAN
: No, Madame, Tartuffe is a child still born
Which, from this day, must be condemned to be forgotten
The President wishes it: your passionate prayer,
That of courtiers and all of France
Won't make me bend: Tartuffe is in its tomb.


NINON
: You believe that? Its success won't be less grand
Vainly you want it to die, to be forgotten;
As for me, I will do everything to make it live.
Yes, I intend to give it a deserved fame
In all weather I've counted on illustrious friends.
I am going to assemble them, an in an immense club
That can be called the elite of France
Moliere will come to read this immortal work
With relish, that intrigue scorns.


SAINT-ALBAN
: What?


NINON
: To gather them, I am rushing to write them,
To come here, tonight, and you will hear Moliere read.
For a stage, he will have this salon
And Tartuffe will have been played at Ninon's.


(Exit Ninon.)


SAINT-ALBAN
: Ah! You intend to brave the supreme authority
Fair Ninon! Fear that my extreme wrath —
But she will assemble some powerful men
Against whom all my efforts will be insufficient.
Tartuffe will be read; from tonight the great world
Will repeat each verse, each word which scoffs at us.
In town, at Court, we will be jeered
Despite my power, publicly mocked.
Ah! Cursed be Tartuffe, Ninon, and Moliere!
And may the whole race of authors be —
But lets seek ways to prevent this evening from —


(Laforet enters.)


LAFORET
: Miz Ninon — I want to see her
Right quick. I'm comin on behalv of her friens.
Tell her that, — Mizier? Go tell her t'appear right soon
Tell her dat itz on behalf o her fer frien
D' author, Moliere.


SAINT-ALBAN
: Moliere! Really —


LAFORET
: You bet.
And I'm known as his servant everywhere.


SAINT-ALBAN
: It's you whom the public for a long time has mentioned
The advice you sometimes give.


LAFORET
: Yes, sir.
I'm the one who every day, for lack of a better opinion
That my dear master consults befoh
Hiz works are received by the public with fine and great approval.


SAINT-ALBAN
: I'm no longer astonished they are so bad.


LAFORET
: Bad! I bet you'd like to have 'em.


SAINT-ALBAN
: Great gods!


LAFORET
: I regret that his last play
Was stopped. Oh! damn! what pleasure! what intoxication
It w'dda caused t'night. A cursed Saint-Alban
Who acts as if he were the President.


SAINT-ALBAN
: What do you mean?


LAFORET
: This devout Saint-Alban, who knows what t'do
In secret, they say, is messing things up.
So good that our Tartuffe at the moment it's known
Will perhaps be forgotten an' lost forever.


SAINT-ALBAN
: That's a shame!


LAFORET
: It was a play with merit!
In France, there ain't a hypocrite
Who didn' say: Hey, thatz me. They pretend, I think
That Mzier Saint-Alban for the like reasons
Got it expressly forbidden, for fear of bein' recognized—
Between you an' me, let's agree that c'd be the case.
In this play y'see a well dressed man
Sensual by nature and devote by art
Who contemplates at the same time heaven an' wimmin,
Keepin the body fer hisself and leaving the souls t'God.
But to sell hisself this way, what a dope he is!
P'raps, they w'dnn'a noticed him if he hadna talked
It's often like that, by abusin power
The greatest bring on scorn
And resemble thieves who at the word: rogue
Think somebuddy's a callin them and they say: Huh?


SAINT-ALBAN
: (furious) My dear friend —


LAFORET
: Hey, what's up with you?


SAINT-ALBAN
: I beg you, complete
This comparison.


LAFORET
: (aside) He's a Big-Shot, I betcha.
So what, let's continue. (aloud) You are far from knowing
The trick that my master's gonna play this Saint-Alban t'night,
So that the Presidet will lose confidence in him.
He's gotta spread disinformation between them
So that t'mmorra The President will
Angrily reproach Saint-Alban for this clandestine meetin'
Our way is certain.


SAINT-ALBAN
: Let's see this miracle?


LAFORET
: T'night, when the audience is at our production
It will insist on Tartuffe. Ferbidden works
Are those the public loves bezt.


SAINT-ALBAN
: Go on.


LAFORET
: Moliere'll say: Folks, it's impossible.
I'm sensitive to what a nuisance this is to you
But unfortunately, a formal order prevents me
Frum giving you today: Tartuffe or The Impostor.
The President doesn't want it to be performed.


SAINT-ALBAN
: What?


LAFORET
: It's a big breath he'll have in his cheek
The President —


SAINT-ALBAN
: (irritated) That's too much.


LAFORET
: First off, he will ketch it
And then to Saint-Alban he will be right fast to return it


SAINT-ALBAN
: Ah! if Moliere dared —


LAFORET
: D'ya get the equivakation?
Let it be played — Oh! I see the publick a laffin at
The poor President, so tricky, so cagey.
I see this Saint-Alban enraged like a dope
He'll urge the Prezident t'avenge this offense.
But on him, from tonight, all the vengeance will fall.
The Prezident'll kick him sayin' in wrath
They're laffin at me; so let 'em laff at you.


SAINT-ALBAN
: May Moliere!


LAFORET
: He's gonna do it.


SAINT-ALBAN
: From tomorrow, from tonight —
The laws will do me justice against such a trick


(Moliere appears.)


LAFORET
: There's my master.


SAINT-ALBAN
: Moliere!


MOLIERE
: Ah! Mr. Saint-Alban.


LAFORET
: (to Moliere) What, Saint-Alban?
Good God! Save yourself immediately.


MOLIERE
: And why?


LAFORET
: I told him everythin'! Oh, What stupidity!
Save yourself.


MOLIERE
: Allow me —


SAINT-ALBAN
: I am instructed, Sir,
By your effrontery, and I will teach you
That a magistrate, honest, wise, and revered
Is not made to see himself the object of perfidies
Of a crazy author who writes silly comedies.


MOLIERE
: Sir, your outrages cannot affect me;
To respond to them would almost be to deserve them.
The honest magistrate animated by justice
Has the right, I know, to public esteem.
But he soon loses them thanks to his flatterers.
I know in our days of vulgar errors
Each sees his portrait in each comedy
And the author's pride profits by this mania,
If they're grateful that it is a good likeness.
Yes, in the irritated man, I believe I'm seeing that child
Who, shocked by the faults his mirror portrays
Breaks the glass being unable to change them.


SAINT-ALBAN
: Fine, very fine: declaim, Mr. actor
Tell us big words which depict nothing.
But as for me, I am going to, indeed — To the theatre this very night
When you assemble you idolatrous crows
You will demand the Tartuffe, Look,
There, what will you reply? Will you sate your reason.
“The President doesn't want it to be performed.”


MOLIERE
: Why not?


SAINT-ALBAN
: He admits it brazenly!
Well! My dear sir, you will repent
Of that nasty remark; you will see, you will see
Your play wasn't yet suspended.
From this day you can believe it is forbidden.
(aside) He's calm (aloud) Moreover, this new masterpiece
Thanks to me, will be burned by the executioner.
(aside) He's not yet upset (aloud) You'll change your style,
There are still prisons in this town
(aside) He's smiling. To win the battle let's signal my power.
And know how to prevent his reading tonight.
I will henceforth tell anyone who will listen
That an author is a, a man is a man to be hanged. (he leaves)


MOLIERE
: Well?


LAFORET
: Well?


MOLIERE
: How grateful he is!
How he was afraid of it! You saw it, his portrait
Made him go pale with horror
And made him depart, despite himself, from his holy character.


LAFORET
: I indeed paved the way for what just happened.


MOLIERE
: How's that?


LAFORET
: I didn't know I must find
Your enemy here; On my soul I thought
That this gentleman was a friend of Madame
And I fearlessly criticized, frankly
The false piety of the cursed Saint-Alban.


MOLIERE
: But you criticized him without offering any insults.


LAFORET
: Yes, I only told him the harsh truth
That he was a hypocrite, a


MOLIERE
: But what were you thinking of?
A man who can injure! and what did he reply?


LAFORET
: Why, nothing. he seemed to make a deaf ear.


MOLIERE
: Go, he's my precious child the sleeping Lion.


(Ninon appears and listens without entering.)


LAFORET
: My dear master, I fear having done you wrong.


MOLIERE
: Why? Haven't I said that even to death
I will attack effrontery, crime and vice?
It's a task, and mission that I must fulfill
I hate and scorn these cowardly censors
Who wish to correct the errors of the century
Giving birth to their books while hiding in the shadows;
As for me, I brave the fools without respecting their numbers
I criticize, censure, and never tremble
Before those whom I offer faithful portraits.
Just as this Saint-Alban by his holy presence
Was unable to contradict me, or constrain me to silence.
He can stop Tartuffe and its author.
But he'll never change my opinions or my heart.
Present or absent though he be, I will repeat endlessly
“Tartuffe is mine, I am proud of my play.”
There's not a single feature, a single verse, a single word
That I want to remove from it. An author is really dumb
When he fears some party that blames him
And, trembling, sacrifices a wise epigram
And swallows back in order to please such a lord,
And makes of a brilliant scene a colorless portrait.
I will not imitate this criminal weakness.
I want true success and not caresses.
I need a great reputation, I don't need money;
Public esteem, now there's my treasure.
And I will always know how, without base complacency
To depict what I see, to say what I think—
If my century blames me and fears the truth
At least I will have written for posterity.


NINON
: (rushing to Moliere) Moliere.


LAFORET
: My dear master!


MOLIERE
: (aside) Eh, what, Ninon. (aloud) Madame
You heard me.


NINON
: With heart, mind, and soul —
And I congratulate myself for it: Yes, my illustrious friend,
Amongst my finest days, I count this one.
What passion in your speech! what noble energy!
How I recognized the accent of your true genius!
I especially recognized the independent author
Who takes truth for the only bridle for his talent.
Whatever may be your success, you will be too little renowned;
Friend, you think, you speak, like a great man.


MOLIERE
: Madame.


LAFORET
: It's the name that one day he will obtain
Everyone agrees he will have earned it.


NINON
: But let's get back, Moliere, to the hurried reason
Which made me desire you to visit here.
For you received my letter.


MOLIERE
: Yes, Ninon,
And I will keep it.


NINON
: Keep it!


MOLIERE
: For truth.


NINON
: That's a word.


MOLIERE
: True, but the word is likable,
Your eyes and your mind have a similar power;
A glance depicts love, a word, friendship.


NINON
: (smiling) Most certain is the word — If I've begged you
To come to this place, did you suspect, Moliere,
My secret motive?


MOLIERE
: No.


NINON
: You are sincere?


MOLIERE
: As you are, sometimes.


NINON
: (smiling) I hear you, sir;
Since Tartuffe cannot be performed today
Thanks to this ridiculous and bigoted Saint-Alban
Avenge yourself!


MOLIERE
: And how?


NINON
: Without fear or scruple
Come read this work tonight at my place.


MOLIERE
: Willingly.


NINON
: My friend, tell me? In good faith
Does this annoy you?


MOLIERE
: And why, I beg you?
To read at Ninon's glorifies me.


NINON
: You are very amiable. Then with reason
I am asking some folks of good fashion
Some amateurs and even — I must let you
Guess what friends will hear your play.


MOLIERE
: Prince Conde.


NINON
: Oh! Yes, the Prince does justice
To your talents, and imposes himself alone against slanderers.
And then —


MOLIERE
: Sevigne, La Chatre.


NINON
: No.


MOLIERE
: La Chapelle.


NINON
: Yes, continue.


MOLIERE
: Still?


NINON
: The assembly is very fine!
Keep guessing.


MOLIERE
: I cannot.


NINON
: Friend, you will see there
The child who was nourished by the Muse Melpomene.


MOLIERE
: Corneille!


NINON
: And the other son, less bold, more tender,
Who may one day pretend to the success of Corneille.


MOLIERE
: Racine!


NINON
: A cold, malicious, satirical author
But a man full of wit, and the finest taste.


MOLIERE
: Boileau! Heaven! — Why—


NINON
: Finally, that author renowned
For his simplicity, candor, and good nature.
Who by a fable teaches the truth
And has painted humanity in a an ant.


LAFORET
: La Fontaine.


MOLIERE
: Ninon, before all these models
You want tonight to —


NINON
: Why the Muses must not
Tremble between themselves.


MOLIERE
: Those sisters frighten me.
With them quite often wit injures the heart.
And Corneille.


NINON
: Without, you won't love Thalia.


MOLIERE
: But the elegant Racine —


NINON
: Loves comedy
In a natural style and yours pleases him.


MOLIERE
: Boileau will criticize the plan, the scenes, the subject
He'll say” All this is bad, the play is detestable.,
The characterization false, the intrigue wretched.”


NINON
: Boileau judges you worthy of his opinion,
Can he criticize you? You've taken it.
La Fontaine! From him you needn't fear a thing,
Friend of nature, he has to love Moliere.
Come on, deliver yourself from a vain terror
And come receive a flattering admiration
Today, interest, friendship, vengeance
Must decide you to this complaisance.


MOLIERE
: Friendship suffices for me: of all, this motive
Seems to me the strongest, the nicest.
To obey Ninon, that's seeking to please her,
To please her is to fulfill the earth's desire.
So count on me; I am going to bring you
The manuscript of this writing instantly.
I am less uneasy over the success of the work
For to read before you is already an approval.


LAFORET
: The work is admirable — I trust it will please you.
The two of us have revised it twenty times.


(Moliere and Laforet leave.)


NINON
: (alone) Eh! How not to keep Moliere for a friend?
My pride enjoys him and my soul is proud of him.
Yes, my tranquility depends on his repose.
Together with him I scorn the envious, the fools.
Together with him I will constantly laugh at their hate.
I will always say to him “Deliver them to the stage
Deliver us from them despite their confidence and boldness
They will love you even more if they suspect you less.
Don't spare them, they are born to fear you;
You will know how to punish them when you choose to depict them.”
Here's Chapelle — Well!


CHAPELLE
: (entering) All your friends will come;
They surrender to such sweet orders
Any moment you will see Racine and Corneille.


NINON
: Prince Conde.


CHAPELLE
: Boileau, La Fontaine.


NINON
: Marvelous,
When Moliere reads us a new masterpiece,
Ah! the circle can never be fine enough,
I love true talents of the assembled elite
Because genius is made to judge genius.


CHAPELLE
: (delivering a note to her)
Chaulieu alone cannot come to the meeting.
This note —


NINON
: Some beauty must have the march on us.


CHAPELLE
: See —


NINON
: (reading) Beautiful Ninon, an enemy gout
Enchains my crippled limbs,
I see badly, I no longer walk
I'm awake all night, and all day I whine.
But although my sorrow leaves me little hope
The pain of not seeing you
Is my greatest malady;
To be in the midst of my friends
To see Ninon, to hear Moliere
Was paradise on earth.
This happiness is no longer permitted me;
I am losing it, pity my disgrace
I curse destiny's laws;
It's too much to suffer these losses at once
Friendship, wit —

CHAPELLE: And the graces.

NINON: If he's ill, at least his wit isn't.

CHAPELLE: What wit is there in singing your charms?

NINON: I hear someone.

(Enter Corneille, Racine, La Fontaine, Boileau.)

NINON: It's you, Corneille, La Fontaine, Boileau, Racine, ah, indeed!

CORNEILLE: To the orders of a Queen.

NINON: (smiling) Kings often fail.

LA FONTAINE: Us, Kings?

NINON: Through talent.

LA FONTAINE: I have only sheep in my kingdom.

BOILEAU: And you lead them by the nose.

NINON: While awaiting Moliere,
The Prince Conde who won't be late,
Tell us the Chronicle: have you heard
Some news in Paris today?

RACINE: Yes,
The honors the great Corneille obtained at court.

NINON: Is it a pension, income, or the like?

RACINE: It's a hundred times more.

LA FONTAINE: What is it then?

NINON: Explain yourself, speak.

RACINE: Lords and courtiers were all gathered
To hear The Cid: even with his presence
The monarch was honoring this immense assembly.
After a long hour of waiting and boredom
They are demanding Corneille; he's all that's missing
They demand very loudly: Corneille arrives, passes through
And without greeting him each remains in his seat.
He goes near the king; Louis at his appearance,
Rises, and bows before him with respect.
The Court imitates him, then, although without his diadem
Corneille seems more kingly than the king.


CHAPELLE
: Ah! How fine this scene is! Gentlemen courtiers,
You will learn that it is necessary to honor talent
And you will be less proud.


RACINE
: The anecdote is certain
Because I was a spectator.


NINON
: Tell me, La Fontaine?
The one who ran after you and was laughed at so much.


LA FONTAINE
: Which one?


NINON
: That voyage to Chateau-Thierry.


CORNEILLE
: Yes, wishing to reestablish peace in his home
He made a long voyage to go see his wife,
Returns without having seen her. Did you fulfill your end?
He told them — Not really, she was in good health.


LA FONTAINE
: I had truly taken care not to disturb my wife
She had so much need of praying for her soul!


NINON
: Racine, your arguments with this dear Boileau
Are they finished?


RACINE
: My wrath is always fresh.
With no discretion, ceaselessly, he criticizes me.
You'd say he prides himself in finding faults.
When I free myself from my work
Just so soon, he tells me in an inspired tone
“Twenty times resume your work on the job.”
I always have his advice, never his approval.


BOILEAU
: Racine, you think my advice indiscreet.
I criticize you in advance to praise you after.
Effortless glory is really perishable.
You have to earn it if you want it to be durable.
Usurped success has only an instant.
Concentrated efforts can momentarily
Distract the admiration of a nation,
But soon the good taste of time avenges the outrage
Coming to deliver mediocrity to oblivion;
Against posterity intrigue struggles in vain.
The day rises, shines, the shade pales, and is effaced,
The ghost is eclipsed and all receive their place.


A VALET
: The Prince Conde.


ALL
: Milord.


PRINCE CONDE
: My friends
It's really nice for me to find myself admitted
In the brilliant circle of graces, of genius.

NINON: And of valor, Prince, for France is filled
With the report of your exploits.

PRINCE CONDE: Stop talking to me about 'em.
War is a scourge, Gentlemen, to speak of it
Is to offend me, I admit it, a guilty memory.
The more in battle I display a cold, inflexible heart
The more, after I triumph, a secret feeling
Drags me to sorrow and enchains me to remorse.
I distance myself, and return to the breast of our cities
To spend days more pure, less brilliant, more peaceful.
I deliver, at last, calm to my agitated heart
And I rejoice in the arts near beauty.
But now, where is Moliere?

NINON: (seeing Laforet) Ah, there's his serving woman.
What are you doing there?

LAFORET: Nothing, I was impatient

NINON: What do you want?

LAFORET: (very low to Ninon) I was waiting, Madam, for you
To look this way. My master's full of cares.
I think he won't come.

NINON: Heaven! What have you just told me?

LAFORET: (low) The President forbids him to read Tartuffe
To you.

NINON: What! Moliere has given in to this order?

LAFORET: (low) I don't know anything about it, be maebbe so,
It seemz, real dangerous
To laugh at such a plain order.
He hasn't yet consulted me in your biznezz.

PRINCE CONDE What! Moliere could be so cowardly as to be frightened?

CORNEILLE: May Moliere be better appreciated by you!
His soul is incapable of giving in to fear.

RACINE: He mustn't keep a guilty silence.

NINON: As for me, I wager, avoiding an unjust suspicion
That he will read Tartuffe.

(MOLIERE appears.)


MOLIERE
: And you are right.
Prince — It's fine that an express prohibition
Without cause, without motive, has stopped my play
That they have unjustly despoiled me of my rights!
A hypocrite still intends to choke off my voice!
No.


NINON
: As for me, I was sure from knowing Moliere.


LAFORET
: (aside) We've always had a great deal of character.


NINON
: Come on, let's all of us take our places.


LAFORET
: (aside) Now there's truly a scene
Whose painting honors its brush.
(placing herself behind Moliere)
As for me, I'll stay here, firstly so as to hear better
Then, if you read badly, I will be able to cue you.


MOLIERE
: Tartuffe, a comedy in five acts and in verse.


(Saint-Alban appears.)


SAINT-ALBAN
: (aside) What? He's going to read!
Ah! I'm coming just in time.


MOLIERE
: Before beginning, I am going, in a few words,
To expose to your eyes the purpose of this work.
I intend to depict the image of a clever impostor.


LAFORET
: (low to Moliere) Saint-Alban is listening to us.


MOLIERE
: (low) He's listening to us, good.
(arising, aloud) The hero of my play has the airs and the tone
Of a consummate swindler, of an adroit hypocrite.
Vainly he's feared, fled, avoided.
He has more than one way of being found everywhere.
He always speaks well, and always thinks ill.
He lies from piety, and in conscience deceives us.
And preaches beneficence without ever giving any.
To him, feigning is an art, and injuring is a need.


SAINT-ALBAN
: (pointing to himself) There I am.


NINON
: What?


SAINT-ALBAN
: (aside) Gentlemen, you think me very distant.


NINON
: You are in error: we were, on the contrary, thinking
That we were going to see you.


SAINT-ALBAN
: (aside) That epigram is plain.


PRINCE CONDE
: Sit down.


NINON
: (low to Prince) We will all be laughing at him in a moment.


SAINT-ALBAN
: (low to the Prince)
Prince, you will hear an impudent work
Which won't appear, which the king forbids.


NINON
: That makes us want to hear it all the more.


SAINT-ALBAN
: (low to the Prince)
If by chance this wish seems indiscreet to the king?


PRINCE CONDE
: Have you received on this point — ?


SAINT-ALBAN
: The order is secret.


PRINCE CONDE
: Well, don't talk about it any more.


SAINT-ALBAN
: Without saying more
Of his prohibition, let's speak of the subject of the work.
Here are men of taste, well known authors
Whose talents and virtues are cited everywhere.
I want to avail myself of their learned admiration
Corneille agrees that such a character.


CORNEILLE
: Is base and vile.


SAINT-ALBAN
: (laughing) Well?


CORNEILLE
: But full of virtue.


SAINT-ALBAN
: What do you mean?


CORNEILLE
: He's the scourge of society
If he didn't degrade Melpomene with his faults
I would have put him on stage before Moliere.


SAINT-ALBAN
: He's crazy! You, Boileau whose reason I admire
Who have, up till now, done nothing but good
Agree that the play is, at least, detestable.


BOILEAU
: Why yesterday La Fontaine told me a certain fable
Which might unite opinion on this point.
Good chap, tell it to us.


LA FONTAINE
: I no longer remember it.


SAINT-ALBAN
: Good.


CHAPELLE
: I know it.


SAINT-ALBAN
: Gentlemen.


PRINCE CONDE
: (with anger) Will you be silent?


SAINT-ALBAN
: Prince, be certain of my obedience.


CHAPELLE The Serpent and the Lime
They tell of a serpent that lived near a clockmaker
.
(A bad neighborhood for a clockmaker)
Entered his shop and looked around for something to eat.
Not meeting anything edible
He began to gnaw on a bitter lemon.
This lemon said to him, without making a fuss
Poor ignoramus, hey! What are you trying to do?
You are taking something stronger than you are
Little mad-brained serpent
You can get from me
Only the quarter of a smidgen.
You'll break all your teeth
I only fear time.
That's intended for you, minds of a low order
Who always seek to gnaw on men of talent.
Vainly you torture yourself
Do you think your teeth impress their outrages
On so many fine works?
For you they are brass, steel, diamond.


SAINT-ALBAN
: Bah, bah —


A VALET
: (entering) A page is asking for you, Mr. Moliere.


PAGE
: (entering) I'm coming from Lille.


SAINT-ALBAN
: (laughing) Yes, you see they are asking for you.


PAGE
: The order must concern a play.


SAINT-ALBAN
: Ah! I understand
The prohibition — My dear chap, you arrive in time.


ALL
: Read!


NINON
: Whose signature is on this writing?


MOLIERE
(reading) Signed. Louis.
(to Ninon) Read, this great name reassures me.


SAINT-ALBAN
: Deign to read it yourself, adorable Ninon.


NINON
: (taking the letter) I am trembling.


MOLIERE
: And as for me, I am waiting without emotion.


NINON
: (reading) After having attentively read the comedy of Tartuffe, after having weighed the remarks of our First President who depicts this play as attacking morality, religion and reflecting on personalities, we have found that this masterpiece can offend only hypocrites; therefore we allow, indeed we order, that it be performed in all the cities of France.


MOLIERE
: O my King, I owe so much to your extreme justice.


PRINCE CONDE
: To honor talent is to honor oneself.
This generous act is worth more than a hundred exploits;
The triumph of the arts makes for the glory of the king.


CORNEILLE
: The Prince, through the effect of this propitious order
Rewards us all by doing you justice.


NINON
: The reading now will be superfluous, I think.


MOLIERE
: Laforet, child, run, run to my home quick
So that in all the quarters, the squares, the streets
Ten thousand posters shall be instantly spread
To announce at last to the public of Paris
That Tartuffe will be performed.


NINON
: The public will be very surprised.


SAINT-ALBAN
: What to do now!


A LORD
: Probity leaves you
An excellent way to make the play fail.


LAFORET
: As for me, I'm heading to paradise, if I see some censor
I will shout as loud as I can: Down with the intriguer
And if he shouts louder, as for me I will act in a way
So the public will rise and cry out at him: Out the door.


NINON
: Moliere, we all applaud this success.
Your triumph is even our triumph.
But in the breast of happiness, at the fulfillment of glory.
Keep your memory of your friends, of me.
May the spirit, the valor, come into this salon
To find Moliere sometimes once more with Ninon.





CURTAIN