Le bourgeois gentilhomme

FOR ME, DOING THEATER...

IS SERVING THE GREATEST NUMBER...

AND THE LESS ENDOWED FIRST...

THE BREAD AND SALT OF KNOWLEDGE. JEAN VILAR

Are you looking for me, Monsignor, after looking for me!

You couldn't read my mind any better, Madame.

But your heart does not know mine well enough to justify me...

without my explaining anything.

Hey!

Come!

It's this way.

Come into this room...

sit there and wait until he comes.

And you too, on this side.

- Is it done? - Yes.

Let's see...

This is good.

Is it something new?

Yes, it's a melody for a serenade that I set him to composing here,

while waiting for our man to awake.

May I see it?

You'll hear it, with the dialogue, when he comes.

He won't be long.

Our work, yours and mine, is not trivial at present.

This is true.

We've found here such a man as we both need.

This is a nice source of income for us, this Monsieur Jourdain,

with the visions of nobility and gallantry

that he has gotten into his head.

You and I should hope that everyone resembled him.

Not entirely! I could wish

that he understood better the things that we give him.

It's true he understands them poorly, but he pays well,

and that's what our art needs now more than anything else.

As for me, I admit, I feed a little on glory.

Applause touches me,

and I hold that, in all the fine arts it is painful to produce for dolts,

to endure barbarous views on my choreography.

It is a pleasure,

to work for people who can

appreciate the fine points of an art,

who know how to give a sweet reception to the beauties of a work

and, by pleasurable approbations, gratify us for our labor.

Yes, the most agreeable recompense we can receive for the things we do

is to see them recognized and flattered by an applause

that honors us.

There is nothing, that pays us better for all our fatigue.

And it is an exquisite joy to receive the praises of the well- informed.

I agree, and I enjoy them as you do.

There is surely nothing more agreeable

than the applause you speak of.

But that incense does not provide a living.

Pure praises do not provide a comfortable existence:

it is necessary to add something solid, the best praise

is with cash- in- hand.

He's a man, it's true, whose insight is very slight,

who talks nonsense about everything

and applauds only for the wrong reasons.

But his money makes up for his judgments.

He has discernment in his purse.

His praises are in cash,

and this ignorant bourgeois is worth more to us,

than the educated nobleman who introduced us here.

That is partly true.

But you lean a little too heavily on money.

Material interest is something so base

that a man of good taste should never show an attachment to it.

You are ready enough to receive the money our man gives you.

Assuredly.

But I don't place all my happiness in it

and I could wish that together

with his fortune he had some good taste in things.

I could wish it too,

that's what both of us are working for as much as we can.

But, in any case,

he gives us the means to make ourselves known.

And he will pay others if they will praise him.

Well, gentlemen?

What's this?

Are you going to show me your little skit?

How? What little skit?

What do you call it?

Your prologue or dialogue of songs and dances.

You find us ready for you.

I kept you waiting,

because I'm having myself dressed today

like the people of quality,

and my tailor sent me some silk stockings

that I thought I would never get on.

We are here only to wait upon your leisure.

I want you both to stay

until they have brought me my suit, so that you may see me.

Whatever you would like.

You will see me fitted out properly, from head to foot.

We have no doubt of it.

I had this robe made for me.

It's very attractive.

My tailor told me people of quality dress like this in the mornings.

It's marvelously becoming.

Hey lackeys!

My two lackeys!

- What do you wish, Sir? - Nothing.

I just wanted to see if you were paying attention.

What say you of my liveries?

They're magnificent.

Here again is a sort of lounging dress

to perform my morning exercises in.

It is elegant.

- Lackey! - Sir?

- The other lackey! - Sir?

Hold my robe.

- Do you think I look good? - Very well. No one could look better.

Now let's have a look at your little show.

I would like very much for you to listen to a melody

he has just composed for the serenade that you ordered from me.

He's one of my pupils

who has an admirable talent for these kinds of things.

Yes, but you should not have had that done by a pupil!

And you yourself were none too good for this piece of work?

You must not let the name of pupil fool you, Sir.

Pupils of this sort know as much as the greatest masters,

and the melody is as fine as could be made.

Just listen.

Give me my robe

so I can listen better.

Wait!

I believe I would be better without a robe.

No! Give it back.

This will be better.

I languish night and day

My suffering is extreme

Since to your control

Your lovely eyes subjected me

If you thus treat

Fair Iris, those you love,

Alas, how would you

Treat an enemy?

This song seems to me a little mournful, it lulls to sleep.

And I would like it if you could liven it up a little, here and there.

The tune must be suited to the words.

Someone taught me a perfectly pretty one some time ago.

Listen... Now...

How does it go?

By my faith, I don't know.

There are sheep in it.

Sheep?

Yes.

I thought my Janneton

As beautiful as sweet

I thought my Janneton

Far sweeter than a sheep

Alas! Alas! She is a hundred times

A thousand times, more cruel

Than tigers in the woods

Isn't it pretty?

- The prettiest in the world. - And you sing it well.

It's without having learned music.

You ought to learn it, Sir, as you are learning dancing.

They are two arts which have a close connection.

Which open the mind of a man to fine things.

And do people of quality learn music, too?

- Yes, Sir. - I'll learn it then.

But I don't know when I can find time,

for besides the Fencing Master who's teaching me, I

have also engaged a master of philosophy

who begins this morning.

Philosophy is something, but music,

- Sir, music... - Music and dancing,

music and dancing, that's all we need.

There's nothing so useful in a State as music.

There's nothing so necessary to men as dancing.

Without music, a State cannot subsist.

Without the dance, a man can do nothing.

All the disorders, all the wars one sees in the world

happen only from not learning music.

All of man's misfortunes, all the disasters

of history, the blunders of politicians

and the faults of omission,

all this comes from not knowing how to dance.

How is that?

Does not war result from a lack of agreement between men?

That is true.

And if all men learned music,

wouldn't that be a means of bringing about harmony

and of seeing universal peace in the world?

You are right.

When a man has committed a mistake in his conduct,

in family affairs, or in affairs of government of a state,

or in the command of an army, do we not always say,

"He took a bad step in such and such an affair?"

Yes, that's said.

And can taking a bad step result from anything

but not knowing how to dance?

It's true, you are both right.

It makes you see the excellence and usefulness of dance

and music.

I understand that, now.

- Do you wish to see our pieces? - Yes.

I already told you this is an attempt I made to show the different passions

that music can express.