Molière: The School for Wives

The School for Wives
Molière
Translated from the French by Richard Wilbur
(Library of America, 2021) [1662]
112 p.

These Moliere’s comedies have been delighting me each time I have picked one up, so you can imagine my surprise when I picked up The School for Wives and found Richard Wilbur saying, in his introduction, that it is “Moliere’s first great verse comedy”.  His what? And what, then, were those others? I didn’t know we were still shy of the summit.

Perhaps one thing that elevates this play is its central character, Arnolphe, an older man, a selfish man, set in his ways, a planner, a practical man, and a foolish man. He is also a single man, never married, and overfond of mocking those who marry a woman who turns out to be unfaithful. It’s an unbecoming trait, and his friend chastises him for it:

CHRYSALDE: Since with your jeering tongue you plague the lives
Of men who are unlucky in their wives,
And persecute them like a fiend from Hell,
Take care lest someday you be jeered as well.
(I, i)

The warning is apropos because Arnolphe is, in fact, planning to marry, but he, in his wisdom, has prepared the ground carefully. For over a decade he has been guardian of a girl, now of marriageable age, and he intends to take her to wife. Yet because, he says, “I know men who’ve undergone much pain / Because they married girls with too much brain.” (I, i) he has taken pains to have her brought up far from the influences of the world, and carefully shielded from things that might put bad ideas — indeed, any ideas — into her head:

“In a small convent, far from the haunts of man,
The girl was reared according to my plan:
I told the nuns what means must be employed
To keep her growing mind a perfect void,
And, God be praised, they had entire success,
As a grown girl, her simple-mindedness
Is such that I thank Heaven for granting me
A bride who suits my wishes to a T.
(I, i)

Arnolphe’s views on marriage are, unfortunately, not likely to excite the admiration of any young woman. He explains them one day to his intended, Agnes:

One half commands, the other must obey;
The second serves the first in every way;
And that obedience which the soldier owes
His general, or the loyal servant shows
His master, or the good child pays his sire,
Or the stern abbot looks for in the friar,
Is nothing to the pure docility,
The deep submission and humility
Which a good wife must ever exhibit toward
The man who is her master, chief, and lord.
(II, ii)

(Let’s pause, parenthetically, to admire this verse. Notice how he sets up repeated enjambments that displace the rhythm to mid-line pauses, and then, in the last several lines, as he’s getting to the main point, loosens the reins and lets the words flow out in one long breath before pulling up, at the very end, with a series of emphatic, self-admiring accolades. It’s very fine English comic verse in its own right.)

Yet, as he is planning his proposal, a wrinkle appears that threatens his happiness, for a younger man has taken a liking to Agnes, and has also, in a convenient maneuver that puts the third side on the love triangle, taken Arnolphe into his confidence, unaware that Arnolphe is his rival. It’s a wonderful set-up.

Arnolphe, feeling the pressure to act or be displaced, goes ahead with his proposal. Of course, being the man he is, he makes a terrific hash of it:

Be ever mindful, Agnes, that you would be,
Without this union, a nonentity;
And let that thought incline your heart to merit
The name which I shall lend you, and to bear it
With such propriety that I shall never
Regret my choice for any cause whatever.
(II, ii)

An insult, a boast, and a threat: even Mr Collins was not this bad.

Anyhow, as things play out, Agnes and Horace fall in love, and do their best to keep their rendezvous secret from Arnolphe. Yet, whenever Horace sees Arnolphe on the street, he is always eager to share with his “friend” stories about his most recent or forthcoming assignation. The comedic potential of this confusion is well developed as the play proceeds.

ARNOLPHE: There’s one good thing about my present fix —
That I’m forewarned of all my rival’s tricks,
And that this oaf who’s aiming to undo me
Confesses all his bad intentions to me.
(IV, vii)

In the final Act, though, Horace is forced to abandon Agnes when his father arranges a marriage for him. Arnolphe, it seems, is saved, and everyone else is sunk! Yet, by one final bit of playful cleverness, the ship is righted again, and Arnolphe finds himself collaborator in bringing about his own miserable end. It’s a fine finish, attributed to “Heaven, which orders all things for the best.”

I loved the play, as I’ve loved all of these Moliere comedies so far. It has wonderful characters, a superbly humorous situation, and it rings the comedic changes like a champion.

An alert reader (thanks, Craig) pointed out that Ingmar Bergman’s adaptation of this play is available on YouTube. I began watching it, but the truth is that I found a Swedish language adaptation not much fun. The English subtitles lacked the wit and sparkle of Wilbur’s version. I watched a half hour or so, to get the flavour of the staging and the acting, but then I abandoned it.

*

[The power of love]
The miser’s made a spendthrift overnight,
The coward valiant, and the boor polite;
Love spurs the sluggard on to high endeavour,
And moves the artless maiden to be clever.
(II, iv)