School for Husbands and the Imaginary Cuckold, or Sganarelle

  All women like a bit of freedom, and

  It’s wrong to rule them with a heavy hand.

  It isn’t bolts and bars and strict controls

  That give our wives and maidens virtuous souls;

  No, honor keeps their feet on duty’s path,

  And not our harshness or our threatened wrath.

  I say, indeed, that there’s no woman known

  Who’s good and faithful through constraint alone.

  We can’t dictate a woman’s every move:

  If we’re to sway her, it must be by love,

  And I, whatever curbs I’d put upon her,

  Would not feel safe were I to trust my honor

  To one who was deterred from wronging me

  Only by lack of opportunity.

  SGANARELLE

  What drivel!

  ARISTE

  As you like; but still I say

  That we should school the young in a pleasant way,

  And chide them very gently when they’ve erred,

  Lest virtue come to seem a hateful word.

  I’ve raised Léonor by maxims such as these;

  I’ve not made crimes of little liberties;

  To all her young desires I’ve given consent—

  Of which, thank Heaven, I’ve no cause to repent.

  I’ve let her see good company, and go

  To balls, and plays, and every sort of show,

  Such social pleasures being well designed,

  I’ve always held, to form a youthful mind.

  The world’s a school in which we learn to live

  By better lessons than any book could give.

  She’s fond of buying gowns, and bows and frills:

  Well, what of that? I give her what she wills,

  For gay attire’s a thing we should permit

  Young girls to enjoy, if we can pay for it.

  She’s pledged to wed me by her father’s order,

  But I shall not be overbearing toward her:

  I well know that, in years, we’re far apart,

  And so I free her to consult her heart.

  If the four thousand crowns I yearly earn,

  My deep affection, and my dear concern

  Can compensate, in her considered view,

  For all the years which separate us two,

  Then she shall wed me; if not, she’ll choose another.

  She might be happier without me, Brother,

  And I had rather give her up than see

  Her forced, against her will, to marry me.

  SGANARELLE

  How sweet he is! All sugar and spice! My, my!

  ARISTE

  Well, that’s my nature, thank the Lord, and I

  Deplore the too-strict training which has led

  So many children to wish their parents dead.

  SGANARELLE

  The more one lets the young run wild, the greater

  A task it is to discipline them later;

  You’ll view her willful habits with misgiving

  When the time comes to change her mode of living.

  ARISTE

  Why should I change it?

  SGANARELLE

  Why?

  ARISTE

  Yes.

  SGANARELLE

  I don’t know.

  ARISTE

  Is there any disgrace, do you think, in living so?

  SGANARELLE

  Oh come! If you marry her, will you still allow

  The girlish freedoms you permit her now?

  ARISTE

  Why not?

  SGANARELLE

  Then you’ll indulge her, I suppose,

  In wearing ribbons, beauty spots and bows?

  ARISTE

  Of course.

  SGANARELLE

  And let her madly run about

  To every ball, or fashionable rout?

  ARISTE

  Quite so.

  SGANARELLE

  You’ll receive young gallants in your house?

  ARISTE

  Why, yes.

  SGANARELLE

  To make merry, and amuse your spouse?

  ARISTE

  Indeed.

  SGANARELLE

  And they’ll pay her flowery compliments?

  ARISTE

  No doubt.

  SGANARELLE

  And you’ll stand by at these events,

  Looking entirely unconcerned and cool?

  ARISTE

  Most certainly.

  SGANARELLE

  Enough! You’re an old fool.

  (To Isabelle:)

  Go in; you mustn’t hear such shameful rot.

  ARISTE

  I’ll trust my wife’s fidelity, and shall not

  Do otherwise, when married, than now I do.

  SGANARELLE

  How I’ll enjoy it when she cuckolds you!

  ARISTE

  I don’t know what the stars intend for me,

  But if they should deny you cuckoldry

  It won’t be your fault, for you’ve taken great

  Pains to deserve that horny-headed state.

  SGANARELLE

  Laugh on, my jester. It’s wondrous to behold

  A clown who’s almost sixty winters old!

  LÉONOR

  If he should wed me, I’d never make him bear

  The fate of which you speak; to that I’ll swear.

  But were I forced to wear your wedding ring,

  I frankly couldn’t promise anything.

  LISETTE

  We owe fidelity to them that trust us;

  But cheating folk like you is simple justice.

  SGANARELLE

  Just hold your cursèd, ill-bred tongue, d’you hear?

  ARISTE

  You’ve brought this mockery on yourself, I fear.

  Farewell. Do change your views, and realize

  That locking up one’s wife can be unwise.

  Brother, your servant.

  SGANARELLE

  I’m not your servant, Brother.

  (Alone:)

  Oh, but those three are made for one another!

  What a fine household! An agèd maniac

  With foppish clothing on his creaking back;

  A girlish mistress who’s a wild coquette;

  Impudent servants; wisdom herself would get

  Nothing but headaches by attempting to

  Correct the ways of that unbalanced crew.

  Lest Isabelle, in their loose company,

  Should lose the sound ideas she’s learned from me,

  I’ll send her back where she’ll be safe from harm

  Among the beans and turkeys of my farm.

  Scene 3

  Valère, Sganarelle, Ergaste.

  VALÈRE

  (At the rear of the stage.)

  Ergaste, look: there’s that Argus I abhor,

  The guardian of the girl whom I adore.

  SGANARELLE

  (Thinking himself alone:)

  It’s altogether shocking, the decay

  Of manners and of morals in our day!

  VALÈRE

  I’m going to accost him, if I can,

  And strike up an acquaintance with the man.

  SGANARELLE

  (Thinking himself alone:)

  Where are those standards, stern and absolute,

  Which were the basis, once, of good repute?

  Our wild young folk indulge their every whim,

  And won’t . . .

  (Valère bows to Sganarelle, from a distance.)

  VALÈRE

  He didn’t see me bow to him.

  ERGASTE

  Maybe he’s blind on this side; what do you say

  We walk around him?

  SGANARELLE

  (Thinking himself alone:)

  I must end my stay.

  Life in this city only serves to rouse

  My worst . . .

  VALÈRE

  (Approaching bit by bit.)


  I must gain entrance to his house.

  SGANARELLE

  (Hearing a noise:)

  Did I hear a voice?

  (Thinking himself alone:)

  In the country, praise the Lord,

  The follies of these times can be ignored.

  ERGASTE

  (To Valère:)

  Go up to him.

  SGANARELLE

  (Once more hearing a noise:)

  Eh?

  (Hearing no further sound:)

  My ears are ringing, I guess.

  (Thinking himself alone:)

  There, girls have simple pleasures, simple dress . . .

  (He sees Valère bowing to him.)

  What’s this?

  ERGASTE

  (To Valère:)

  Get closer.

  SGANARELLE

  (Still staring at Valère:)

  There, no fops are seen . . .

  (Valère bows to him again.)

  What the devil—

  (He turns and sees Ergaste bowing on the other side.)

  Another? Such bowing! What does it mean?

  VALÈRE

  Do I disrupt your thoughts, sir, by this greeting?

  SGANARELLE

  Perhaps.

  VALÈRE

  Forgive me; but this happy meeting

  Is such a privilege, such a pleasure, too,

  I couldn’t forgo this chance to speak with you.

  SGANARELLE

  I see.

  VALÈRE

  And to assure you that I stand

  Entirely at your service, heart and hand.

  SGANARELLE

  I’m sure of it.

  VALÈRE

  It’s my happiness to be

  Your neighbor, for which I thank my destiny.

  SGANARELLE

  Well put.

  VALÈRE

  But now, sir, have your heard the new

  Gossip at court? Some think it may be true.

  SGANARELLE

  Does that concern me?

  VALÈRE

  No; but in such a matter

  Folk sometimes like to hear the latest chatter.

  Shall you go see the lavish preparations

  For our new Dauphin’s natal celebrations?

  SGANARELLE

  If I like.

  VALÈRE

  Ah, Paris affords us, you must own,

  A hundred pleasures which elsewhere are unknown;

  The country offers nothing that compares.

  What are your pastimes?

  SGANARELLE

  Tending to my affairs.

  VALÈRE

  Still, one needs relaxation, and the brain,

  From too much serious use, can suffer strain.

  What do you do ’twixt supper time and bed?

  SGANARELLE

  Just what I please.

  VALÈRE

  Ah, sir, that’s nicely said;

  A wise reply; we all should see life thus,

  And only do what truly pleases us.

  Some evening, if you’re free of business, I’ll

  Drop by, if I may, and chat with you a while.

  SGANARELLE

  Your servant.

  Scene 4

  Valère, Ergaste.

  VALÈRE

  That crackpot! What did you make of him?

  ERGASTE

  He gives gruff answers, and his manner’s grim.

  VALÈRE

  Oh, I can’t bear it!

  ERGASTE

  What?

  VALÈRE

  It irks my soul

  That the one I love is under the control

  Of a fierce, sharp-eyed dragon who will never

  Allow her any liberty whatever.

  ERGASTE

  Why, that’s to your advantage; the situation

  Should fill your heart with hope and expectation.

  Cheer up; you have no cause to feel undone.

  A woman closely watched is halfway won,

  And a harsh husband or a crabbed sire

  Is just what any lover should desire.

  I don’t chase women; for that I have no talent;

  And I do not profess to be a gallant;

  But I’ve served woman-chasers by the score

  Who told me often that nothing pleased them more

  Than meeting with those fractious husbands who

  Come grumbling home and scold all evening through,

  Those brutes who groundlessly mistrust their wives,

  Checking on every moment of their lives,

  And act proprietary and unpleasant

  When young admirers of their wives are present.

  “All this,” they said, “is favorable to us.

  The lady’s pique at being treated thus,

  And the warm sympathy which we then express,

  Can pave the way to amorous success.”

  In short, if you have hopes of Isabelle,

  Her guardian’s cranky ways may serve you well.

  VALÈRE

  But for four months I’ve been her worshipper,

  And never had one chance to speak with her!

  ERGASTE

  Love makes men clever; but it’s not done much for you.

  In your place, I’d—

  VALÈRE

  But what was there to do?

  She’s never seen without that beast nearby;

  There are no servants in his house whom I

  Could tempt with little gifts, and thus obtain

  As helpers in my amorous campaign.

  ERGASTE

  Then she doesn’t know, as yet, of your devotion?

  VALÈRE

  Well, as to that I have no certain notion.

  Whenever that barbarian’s taken her out,

  She’s seen me, for I’ve shadowed her about

  And sought by fervent glances to impart

  The raging passion that is in my heart.

  My eyes have spoken boldly; but how well

  She’s understood their language, who can tell?

  ERGASTE

  Such language can be hard to fathom, when

  It’s not interpreted by tongue or pen.

  VALÈRE

  How can I end this anguishing ordeal,

  And learn if she’s aware of what I feel?

  Think of some stratagem.

  ERGASTE

  That’s what we must discover.

  Let’s go inside a while, and think it over.

  Act Two

  Scene 1

  Isabelle, Sganarelle.

  SGANARELLE

  That’s quite enough; I know the house, and can,

  From what you tell me, recognize the man.

  ISABELLE

  (Aside:)

  O Heaven! be gracious now, and lend your aid

  To the artful plot my innocent love has laid.

  SGANARELLE

  You’ve learned, I gather, that his name’s Valère?

  ISABELLE

  Yes.

  SGANARELLE

  Go then; don’t fret; I’ll handle this affair.

  I’ll speak at once to that young lunatic.

  ISABELLE

  (As she goes in:)

  It’s bold for a girl to play this sort of trick;

  But since I’m harshly and unjustly used,

  I hope, by all fair minds, to be excused.

  Scene 2

  Sganarelle, Ergaste, Valère.

  SGANARELLE

  (At Valère’s door.)

  Well here’s the house. I’ll act without delay.

  Who goes there? Ah, I’m dreaming . . . Hullo, I say!

  It doesn’t surprise me, knowing what now I know,

  That he paid court to me an hour ago;

  But I’ll soon dash the hopes of this fond lover—

  (To Ergaste, who has come out in haste:)

  You clumsy oaf! Do you mean to knock me over?

  Why stand there like a post and block the doo
r?

  VALÈRE

  I regret, sir—

  SGANARELLE

  Ah! It’s you I’m looking for.

  VALÈRE

  I, sir?

  SGANARELLE

  Yes, you. Your name’s Valère, I find.

  VALÈRE

  It is.