TARTUFFE

by Ranjit Bolt

  I have been praying day and night

  For this occasion, this delight

  But only now has Heaven seen fit

  To hear my prayer, and answer it.

  ELMIRE: I need you to be frank with me.

  TARTUFFE: This is my chance to let you see

  Into my soul, and read my heart,

  I must speak, all pretence apart,

  About the visits you receive,

  Over the which I often grieve:

  If I make bold to criticise,

  Know that the reason for it lies

  Not in some grudge I bear you – no,

  Not hatred, though it might seem so –

  The one emotion that I feel

  Is pure, unsullied, fervent zeal –

  I yearn...

  ELMIRE: For my salvation, yes.

  That much I’ve not been slow to guess.

  He clasps her hand, squeezing it violently in his.

  TARTUFFE: This ardour’s more than I can stand –

  ELMIRE: Don’t squeeze so hard! You’ll squash my hand!

  TARTUFFE: My zeal, excessive zeal again!

  I’d rather die than cause you pain.

  (He has his hand on her knee now.)

  Oh, God, what torture it would be...

  ELMIRE: What’s your hand doing on my knee?

  TARTUFFE: Feeling your dress. One couldn’t wish

  For softer silk.

  ELMIRE: I’m ticklish!

  She moves her chair away, but he moves his up to her again. He examines the lace round her bosom.

  TARTUFFE: What splendid lace! The work’s so fine!

  One of the marvels of our time

  Is Brussels lace, of course – but this –

  A masterpiece.

  ELMIRE: You’re right, it is.

  About this other matter, though:

  There’s something I should like to know –

  A worrying rumour I’ve just heard –

  My husband means to break his word,

  That is, give Mariane to you

  And not Valère. Can it be true?

  TARTUFFE: He’s hinted. I could not care less.

  That’s not where I seek happiness.

  Can beauty move me? If it can,

  It isn’t found in Mariane –

  ELMIRE: Meaning that you have soared above

  Things earthly, and reserve your love

  For higher, heavenly objects.

  TARTUFFE: Oh?

  My heart’s not made of stone, you know –

  There are two kinds of love – one springs

  From contact with eternal things.

  But that can easily comport

  With passions of a temporal sort:

  God’s works enthral me, and therefore,

  Madame, I cannot but adore

  A lovely creature such as you –

  You are a sheet on which He drew

  His very image, which inspires

  More...ardent feelings, nay, desires.

  At first, they frightened me: maybe

  Satan himself was tempting me,

  In his familiar, devious fashion,

  Through you. I wrestled with my passion,

  I fought it back for my soul’s sake,

  As if salvation were at stake,

  I was resolved to shun your sight,

  But then I thought: ‘This can’t be right!

  This passion cannot but be pure.’

  Then, oh, you wonder, I was sure

  My soul was safe, and I was free

  To love you unreservedly.

  Of course, it’s folly on my part

  To offer you this dross my heart,

  Reckless, absurd, and impudent,

  But look how far God’s bounty went –

  Can yours be very far behind?

  Such is the grace I hope to find –

  Though none to my mean self be due

  Yet, I may look for all from you.

  My hope, my happiness, my peace

  Begin with you, without you cease;

  How is my pilgrimage to end?

  Upon your fiat I depend

  To be the happiest of men

  Or wretchedest – pronounce it, then!

  ELMIRE: Well! This has come as a surprise!

  So gallant! Wouldn’t it be wise

  To steel your heart a little more?

  To weigh things carefully, before

  Adopting that audacious tone?

  I mean, your piety’s well known.

  For you to form so bold a plan...

  TARTUFFE: I’m pious, but I’m still a man.

  To glimpse your beauty is to fall,

  To lose oneself beyond recall,

  And when a heart is forced to yield,

  Reason gives up; it quits the field.

  You don’t expect such words from me

  But I’m no saint, why should I be?

  You find this declaration strange?

  To change it, you will have to change –

  Become less lovely, less divine.

  (Ha! Tell the sun it shouldn’t shine!)

  You were adored as soon as seen,

  Crowned, on the instant, as my queen,

  How desperately my poor heart fought,

  Yet, in no time, it was the sport

  Of that sweet face, those sparkling eyes,

  That dazzling beauty, which defies

  Description! Fasting, weeping, prayer

  Could not prevent your triumph there.

  Don’t say you didn’t realise,

  See in my looks, hear in my sighs,

  That I was yours? This speech confirms

  What’s been expressed in stronger terms.

  If you will condescend to have

  Some pity on your worthless slave,

  If your...your majesty will deign

  To stoop to such a lowly plane,

  Then, glorious goddess, I shall prove

  There’s such a thing as boundless love –

  A love, moreover, free from shame:

  I pose no threat to your good name:

  The lady-killers of the Court

  Treat love as just another sport,

  To puff and plume themselves about,

  The woman falls, the word is out,

  She’s named to everyone they meet,

  Thus are their tongues so indiscreet

  They desecrate the altars where

  Their hearts make sacrifice. Compare

  These braggarts with another breed,

  Silent and secretive, whose need

  To boast of conquests is as small

  As the young buck’s to vaunt them all;

  It’s to this class that I belong.

  With us, Madame, you can’t go wrong,

  Your honour’s safe, since we abhor

  What you, too, have a loathing for –

  Scandal. In me, and in my kind,

  If you accept us, what you’ll find

  Is love of which the world won’t hear,

  And pleasure unalloyed by fear.

  ELMIRE: You’re quite an orator – the best,

  That was most cogently expressed.

  Suppose I told my husband, though?

  What’s to prevent my doing so?

  Ending your friendship, at a stroke?

  TARTUFFE: I thought of that before I spoke:

  You are too gracious and too good –

  Punish my love? As if you would!

  Mortals will err while mortals live

  And so will goddesses forgive.

  You want excuses for my pass?

  You’ll find them in your looking glass.

  I’m human – who would you despise

  For having flesh and blood and eyes?

  ELMIRE: Well, I won’t tell him. Others might.

  This favour, though, you must requite:

  You’re to do everything you can

  To help Valère and Mariane,

 
Promote their marriage, and refrain

  From making others’ loss your gain,

  Building your hopes on their despair.

  DAMIS emerges from the cupboard, where he had hidden himself.

  DAMIS: May I take issue with you there?

  I can’t allow a compromise.

  We’ve got to open father’s eyes.

  That’s right: I overheard it all,

  From in there. This is what I call

  ‘God’s bounty’. Oh, I’m truly blessed!

  Heaven has let me purge this pest!

  Vengeance is mine today! Hoorah!

  Proud, insolent trickster that you are,

  At last I’m going to make you pay

  And put your crimes on full display:

  Make love to her, you hypocrite?

  Wait till my father hears of it!

  ELMIRE: I’ve let him off. Please leave him be.

  He’ll mend. Let that suffice, Damis.

  If he deserves it, I’ll be kind

  And keep my word. I’m not inclined

  To trigger off an ugly scene.

  A wife is wooed – who hasn’t been?

  A woman finds such pranks absurd

  And sees no need to breathe a word

  Or cause her husband great distress

  Over what couldn’t matter less.

  DAMIS: I can’t think why you should decide

  To keep this back and save his hide –

  You find it practical, no doubt –

  Well bugger that! I’m speaking out.

  We can’t allow him to escape,

  The fraudulent, insolent, lecherous ape!

  He comes here, makes our home his own,

  Turns the whole household upside down,

  Tricks father with his pious airs,

  Threatens my marriage, and Valère’s...

  It makes me mad! I’d rather die

  Than let this golden chance go by –

  I won’t be deaf when vengeance calls –

  Not now I’ve got him by the...

  ELMIRE: Wait!

  DAMIS: (Ignoring her.) Not now my bliss is at its height,

  It’s satisfaction, now, outright,

  Or never. Nothing you can say

  Will change my purpose. Come what may,

  I’m acting, without more ado –

  And here’s my father, bang on cue!

  Enter ORGON.

  Father, you’re going to find this news

  As hard to credit as excuse:

  Your doting love has been repaid

  In somewhat false coin, I’m afraid:

  Tartuffe’s just tried to bed your wife.

  You know she likes a quiet life,

  She’d made her mind up not to tell,

  She tried to silence me as well,

  To do so would be wronging you,

  Let blame alight where blame is due!

  ELMIRE: There are more serious things, God knows,

  With which to wreck a man’s repose:

  Was honour threatened, in the end?

  Am I not able to defend

  Myself against such impudence?

  Such are my craven sentiments,

  But you would not be swayed by me –

  I wish you’d held your tongue, Damis.

  Exit ELMIRE.

  ORGON: Well, I’m astonished. (To TARTUFFE.) Is this true?

  TARTUFFE: Why should I try to hoodwink you?

  Brother, your son speaks true: I am

  A sinner, yea, a wicked man!

  My rank iniquities are rife

  And every instant of my life

  Is foul with sin! Yes, all the time

  I add another heinous crime

  To a long list. I roll among

  The other swine in swathes of dung!

  Small wonder Heaven is content

  To sit and watch my punishment.

  Whatever charge he wants to lay,

  Nothing, not one word, will I say

  In my defence – I lack the pride.

  Let me be loathed and vilified.

  Believe him! Give your wrath full rein!

  Cast me into the street again

  Like any felon. Shame? Disgrace?

  I merit them in any case, Lay ignominy at my door,

  I’ve earned it, fifty times and more!

  ORGON: (Rounds on DAMIS.) You scheming rat! I see your game:

  You’re trying to tarnish his good name

  With spurious crimes. This is a lie.

  DAMIS: Don’t tell me you were hoodwinked by

  That hypocritical charade!

  ORGON: Silence, you dog!

  TARTUFFE: (To ORGON.) You are too hard!

  Let the boy speak. Believe him, too.

  Why shouldn’t his account be true?

  Why favour me? What do you know?

  Tell me how far I might not go

  In wickedness. Brother, beware!

  You trust my outside, but what’s there?

  What telling sign, what solid clue

  Says I’m the better of the two?

  Why should a cipher be believed?

  That’s all I am, and you’re deceived.

  You think I’m pious, all men do,

  But all I know, or ever knew,

  Is that I’m worthless. (To DAMIS.) Yes, my son,

  Pile up the charges, leave out none,

  Brand me a thief, a libertine,

  A fraud, a murderer, vent your spleen

  With yet worse names, accuse away,

  And not one charge will I gainsay,

  What reason have I to protest

  When they’re the names that suit me best?

  Let me be execrated, spurned,

  Give me the shame that I have earned!

  ORGON: (To TARTUFFE.) Brother, you’re taking this too far!

  (To DAMIS.) Oh, what a treacherous beast you are!

  Have you no feeling? No remorse?

  DAMIS: (Disbelieving.) You swallowed all that tripe, of course! –

  You did?! But, father...

  ORGON: Wretch, no more!

  (To TARTUFFE.) Rise, brother!

  (To DAMIS.) Rotten to the core,

  That’s what you are.

  DAMIS: But how can he...?

  ORGON: Silence!

  DAMIS: But are you telling me...?

  ORGON: Silence I say!

  DAMIS: To have to bear

  Such vile...

  ORGON: You’d better leave it there –

  Or shall I snap your arms in two?

  TARTUFFE: (To ORGON.) Peace, brother, peace, I beg of you.

  Don’t harm a hair on this boy’s head

  On my account. Hurt me instead.

  Break my arms.

  ORGON: (To DAMIS.) Monster!

  TARTUFFE: Leave him be!

  I’m begging you, on bended knee,

  Forgive him!

  ORGON: How can I do that?

  (To DAMIS.) You see his saintliness, you brat?

  DAMIS: You mean you...?

  ORGON: Silence!

  DAMIS: But...

  ORGON: For shame!

  You act with such an obvious aim:

  You hate him, don’t you, all of you?

  Wife, children, maid, the whole damned crew,

  You must destroy him, you will use

  Any sly plot or shameless ruse

  To do him down, and get him out.

  Look at him, pious and devout,

  Just look at him! You chew on this:

  If that’s your aim, you’re sure to miss:

  The more you work with that idea

  The more I mean to keep him here,

  And give my daughter to him, too,

  And thwart and foil the lot of you!

  DAMIS: You’ll force this fiend on Mariane?

  ORGON: I will, as quickly as I can,

  If possible, this very night,

  From sheer paternal rage and spite!

  I’m g
oing to make you people see:

  The master in this house is me!

  Now, on your knees, at once, you swine,

  Beg his forgiveness – it’s high time.

  DAMIS: What! Beg forgiveness of that cur?

  ORGON: Eh? What was that? Another slur?

  A stick, a stick! (To TARTUFFE.) Don’t hold me back –

  (To DAMIS.) Out of my house, you maniac!

  Out! Now! Forever!

  DAMIS: One thing, though –

  I’ll leave, but...

  ORGON: If you’re leaving, go!

  I’ve cut you off without a sou –

  My curse is all I’m giving you!

  Exit DAMIS.

  Unutterable insolence!

  TARTUFFE: Sweet Heaven, pardon his offence!

  They’ll sunder us from one another

  With their malicious slanders, brother.

  Oh, how their lies have wounded me!

  To think of it is agony...

  ORGON: Poor man! Poor man!

  TARTUFFE: ...a living death!

  I choke – I faint – I gasp for breath –

  I cannot speak –

  ORGON goes to the door through which he has just driven DAMIS out and shouts after him.

  ORGON: You...you great wen!

  I should have killed you, there and then!

  (He comes back to TARTUFFE.)

  Brother, for God’s sake, you must rest,

  You’re shaken, battered and distressed.

  TARTUFFE: It’s obvious that I’m the cause

  Of these absurd domestic wars.

  If we’re to bring them to an end

  I’ll have to leave your house, my friend.

  ORGON: What? Leave? You’re mad!

  TARTUFFE: I’m hated here,

  They’re plotting, and their aim is clear:

  To make you think that I’m a fraud.

  ORGON: Who cares, if what they say’s ignored?

  TARTUFFE: But they’ll persist. They’ll chip away.

  The slanders you reject today

  Will, in due course, be listened to.

  ORGON: Not till the sky has fallen through!

  TARTUFFE: A woman’s hold upon her spouse

  Is strong...

  ORGON: No!

  TARTUFFE: Let me leave your house.

  For then what sallies can they make?

  ORGON: No, brother! Stay! My life’s at stake.

  TARTUFFE: Then, I’ll endure their cruelty,

  But, if and when you turn from me...

  ORGON: Ah!

  TARTUFFE: Fiat sic! We’ll say no more.

  But one thing I must ask you for,

  May I demand it, as your friend?

  One favour, that will put an end