The Comedies of Carlo Goldoni

Count Casteldoro.

Marquis Del Bosco.

Chevalier Del Bosco.

Giacinto.

Frontino.

Fiorillo.

Tailor.

Jeweller.

Araminta.

Eleonora.

Dorimene.

Visitors and a Notary who do not speak.

ACT I

Count. At last I am determined to marry. How! I marry! I, who have always avoided expense! I, who have detested all intercourse with ladies! Well, in this case, I am hurried away in my own despite. Ambition has induced me to obtain a title; therefore, should I die without children, my money is lost! and children themselves will but bring trouble! [Calls.] Frontino!

Front. Here, sir!

Count. Hark ye!

Front. I have found a tailor, sir, as you ordered me; and a tailor of the first notoriety.

Count. Will he come directly?

Front. Very soon. He was obliged first to wait on a duke. I was lucky enough to find him at home when he was about to step into his coach.

Count. His coach?

Front. Yes, sir.

Count. His own coach? His own horses?

Front. Beyond all doubt. A superb carriage, and excellent nags.

Count. O Lord! He's too rich. Is he in repute?

Front. In the greatest. He works for the first families in Paris.

Count. But his honesty?

Front. On that subject I have nothing to say. But why, Signor Count, did you not employ your own tailor?

Count. Fie! My own tailor on such an occasion! I have need of several suits; and, as they must be grand, magnificent, and made to perfection, shall I, if any one should ask who is my tailor, shall I answer, "Signor Taccone," whose name nobody knows?

Front. Then, sir, from what I hear, you are soon to be married?

Count. So soon, that this very day, and in this very house, I am to sign the contract: I have therefore called you to give the necessary orders. On this occasion, I shall have a large company to dine with me, and must have such a dinner – in short, brilliant! grand! splendid! Not that I would satiate the indiscreet, or gorge my guests; but I would surprise, by an air of grandeur – you know what I mean?

Front. Yes, sir, tolerably well; but to do all this will not be quite so easy. I must inquire whether the cook —

Count. No, no, Frontino; I would not have you dependent on the caprice of a cook. Take the direction of everything upon yourself. I know your talents, the readiness of your wit, and your zeal for your master's interest. There is not in the whole world a man like Frontino! You can work miracles; and on such an occasion will surpass yourself.

Front. [Aside.] Ha! his usual mode. Coaxing me when he wants me; but afterwards —

Count. Here is a list of the guests whom I have invited. My sister lives in this house, and my future spouse and her mother have the adjoining apartments. Here is a note of the other guests. We shall be thirty at table. Hasten to them all, and get a positive answer from each, that, in case of refusals, other persons may be invited.

Front. Thirty guests! Do you know, sir, how much a dinner for thirty will —

Count. Perfectly; and will employ your discretion to combine economy and magnificence.

Front. For example, you gave a supper a few nights ago to three gentlemen, and —

Count. Ay, that was a trifle; at present I would be talked of.

Front. But this trifling supper you thought so dear that —

Count. Lose no time in useless words.

Front. You threw the account in my face, and have not yet —

Count. Here is my sister. Begone!

Front. [Aside.] O Lord! what will become of me? This time, friend Frontino, by way of recompense, prepare yourself to be kicked out of doors.

Count. Good morning, dear sister; how do you do?

Dor. Perfectly well. How are you?

Count. Never better. Fortunate and happy man! I am to possess a bride of high birth and merit.

Dor. Then you are determined in favour of Eleonora?

Count. Ay, sweet sister! She is your relation; you proposed her to me, and I therefore have reason to give her the preference.

Dor. [Ironically.] Her and her portion of one hundred thousand crowns, with as much more perhaps at the death of her mother.

Count. You will allow, sister, that such conditions are not to be despised.

Dor. True; but you, who are so —

Count. I understand you. A man like me, having sacrificed a considerable sum to obtain a title, should have endeavoured to marry into an illustrious family. I have thought much, and combated long this reigning inclination, but I know the prejudices of the old nobility; I must have paid dearly for the pompous honour of such an alliance.

Dor. That is not what I wish to say.

Count. I am determined to marry the charming Eleonora.

Dor. But if the charming Eleonora should feel no love for you?

Count. My dear sister, I do not think myself a person to be despised.

Dor. But inclinations are capricious.

Count. Has Eleonora told you she cannot love me?

Dor. She has not precisely told me, but I have great reason to doubt it.

Count. [To himself, vexed.] This is a little strange.

Dor. Why are you angry? If you take in ill part —

Count. No, no; you mistake me. Speak freely and sincerely.

Dor. You know the confidence you have placed in me. Having discoursed together concerning this family, I wrote to Madame Araminta, inviting her and her daughter to pass a few days at Paris.

Count. And they have been a fortnight with you. This I know must give trouble, and bring expense; and as you have done it for my sake – I – my duty – my obligations are eternal.

Dor. By no means, brother. The expense is trifling, and the inconvenience small. I love this family, and, beside being related to my husband, am greatly interested in its behalf. Eleonora is the best girl on earth, and her mother is no less respectable. A good heart, economical, and to the most exact economy she unites prudence and regularity of conduct.

Count. Excellent; and so has been the education of her daughter. But now tell me —

Dor. Sincerely, brother, in my opinion, Eleonora loves you neither much nor little.

Count. On what do you found this strange suspicion?

Dor. I will tell you. When your name is mentioned, she looks down and gives no answer.

Count. Bashfulness.

Dor. When she hears or sees you coming, she is in a tremor, and wishes to hide herself.

Count. At her age that is not extraordinary.

Dor. When this marriage is mentioned, the tears are in her eyes.

Count. The tears of a child? Can anything be more equivocal?

Dor. And though so equivocal and so full of doubt, will you dare to marry her?

Count. Certainly, without the least difficulty.

Dor. It seems you love her to distraction.

Count. I love – I do not know how much.

Dor. You have scarcely seen her twice.

Count. Is not that enough to a feeling heart like mine?

Dor. Ah, brother, I know you.

Count. Your penetration is a little too quick.

Dor. I do not wish that you should hereafter have to reproach me.

Count. Yonder is Frontino.

Dor. If you have business —

Count. [With affected kindness.] Will you go?

Dor. We shall meet again soon. I only wish you to think a little on what I have said, and before you marry —

Count. Fear nothing, dear sister. Do me the pleasure to dine with me to-day. I will send to invite Madame Araminta and her daughter. We shall have many guests. The notary will be here after dinner, and the contract will be signed.

Dor. To-day?

Count. No doubt: Madame Araminta has pledged her word.

Dor. [Ironically.] I give you joy. – [Aside.] I will never suffer Eleonora to sacrifice herself for my sake. If I could but truly understand her heart – I will try.

Count. Poor girl! A little too diffident of me. Does not think me capable of subduing a tender and inexperienced heart! Besides, she carries her delicacy rather too far: in marriages of convenience, not the heart, but family interest is consulted. Well, Frontino, what have you to say?

Front. The tailor is come, sir.

Count. Where is he?

Front. At the door, sending away his coach, and giving orders to his servants.

Count. His servants?

Front. Yes, sir.

Count. Apropos: that reminds me that you must write immediately to my country steward, that he may send me six handsome youths, tall, well made, the best he can find on the estate, that the tailor may take their measure for liveries.

Front. Six clowns in liveries!

Count. Yes, to honour my wedding. Tell the steward that all the time they stay here, their country wages shall be continued, besides having their board. You know this sort of people take care not to overload their plates.

Front. Never fear, sir, they will not die of indigestion.

Count. Hold. Take the key of the closet where the plate is kept; let it be displayed, and all brought on the table.

Front. But, sir, your plate is so antique, and so black – it will be necessary at least to have it new polished.

Count. Oh, silver is always silver. Here comes the tailor, I suppose.

Front. Yes, sir. Enter, Signor, enter.

Tail. I am the most humble servant of your most illustrious lordship.

Count. Come near, sir. I was impatient to see you. I want four suits for myself, and twelve liveries for my servants.

Tail. It will do me honour to serve you, and have no doubt but it shall please you.

Front. My master pays well.

Tail. I have the honour of knowing him. Who is it that does not know the illustrious Count Casteldoro?

Count. The occasion requires all possible display of splendour.

Tail. I will show you stuffs of gold and silver.

Count. No, no; I do not wish to look as if caparisoned in gilded leather. The dresses must be noble and rich, but nothing with a shining ground.

Tail. You prefer embroidery?

Count. I do; four embroidered suits, but in the best possible taste, the patterns rich and delicate.

Front. [Aside.] Hey-day! I do not know my master.

Tail. Rich, but light embroidery?

Count. No, sir: Spanish point – ample, massive, and of the best workmanship; well designed, splendid, but nothing that shines.

Tail. Everything that you can desire. Shall I take your measure?

Count. Yes – on one condition.

Tail. What is it?

Front. [Aside.] Ay, let us hear the condition.

Count. You must tack on the embroidery slightly, that it may not be spoiled. I would have no buttons of false diamonds. I shall wear my four suits each of them twice during the first eight days of my nuptials, so that your embroidery will still be new, and may again be sold as such. You must now tell me what you will charge for the cloth, the making, and the use of your ornaments.

Front. [Aside.] Yes, yes, he is still himself.

Count. But first concerning the liveries.

Tail. With your permission, I wish to have the honour of speaking to you in private.

Front. [Angrily to the Tailor.] If I must not stay, I can go.

Count. By no means. Frontino is part of the family: you may speak before him.

Front. [To the Tailor.] You see, sir! Hem!

Tail. No, friend; I did not mean you, but – look to see if we have no listeners. [Slily gives Frontino a crown.]

Front. [Aside.] A crown! It is long since I had so much.

Tail. Sir, I comprehend the nature of your project. You are not naturally inclined to pomp; but, sagacious and prudent as you are, you willingly sacrifice to appearance and convenience. I esteem myself most fortunate in having the honour to serve you. I admire gentlemen who think like you, and laugh at those who ruin themselves, while I give them every aid in my power, that they may be ruined in style. In me you have discovered the only man fit for your purpose: set your heart at rest; I have the means to satisfy you.

Count. [Aside.] If I do not mistake, this is a most smooth-tongued, artful – [Aloud.] Well, then, you will make my four suits!

Tail. Pardon me, sir, your idea is not practicable. I could not avoid paying extremely dear for the embroidery; and my delicate conscience would never permit me to sell it again as new.

Count. [Aside.] His delicate conscience! Why did he come to me?

Tail. I will confide a secret to you which I have treasured jealously; for, were it known, I cannot tell you how much it would prejudice my character and credit. I, who am the court-tailor, tailor to the principal nobility of Paris, I secretly, and under a borrowed name, carry on a flourishing trade in old clothes.

Count. An old clothesman keep his coach?

Tail. Which is maintained by that very means.

Front. [To the Count.] You see, sir, I have found you a man of sincerity; a man whose heart is as open as his face; a man who merits all your confidence.

Count. [Aside.] I perceive. – [Aloud.] Should I find this to be to my interest?

Tail. I will show you two dozen of most magnificent suits, all new, that never were worn but once or twice at the most.

Count. Will they be known again?

Tail. No danger of that; everything that enters my magazine assumes a new face. I export the most splendid samples that France produces, and I import the spoils and riches of the principal cities in Europe. You shall see suits the most superb, and stuffs of the greatest rarity. It is a pity you will have neither gold nor silver.

Count. Nay, should it be anything of uncommon beauty and taste, gold and silver would not offend me.

Front. To be sure, if the streets were to be paved with gold, we must walk.

Count. But the price.

Tail. See, admire, and select; act just as you please. – [Aside.] I have found the very man I wished for. – I will soon be back, dear sir. – [Aside.] Paris is the place; everything a man wants is there to be found.

Front. Have you by chance anything that will sit genteel, and make me look like a gentleman's gentleman?

Tail. [Aside.] I will clothe you from head to foot, only be my friend.

Front. Your friend! On such conditions, who could refuse?

ACT II

Dor. Come here, my dear Eleonora; I wish to speak to you alone. My brother, I believe, is gone out. [Looks out.] He is not in his cabinet.

Eleon. [Aside.] What can she have to say? She has a friendship for me, but I believe her interest is more for her brother. I can expect no consolation.

Dor. We are alone, and may speak freely. Permit me first to observe that within these few days you have had a serious, melancholy air, which seems but little to suit your expectations.

Eleon. It is natural to me, Madame; more or less, I am always so.

Dor. Excuse me; but on your arrival at Paris you had no such gloomy expression. You are entirely changed, and certainly not without cause.

Eleon. But really there is no such change.

Dor. My good young friend, you conceal the truth, and want confidence in me. Be a little more just, and rest assured that, though I proposed a marriage between you and my brother, no foolish ambition makes me wish it should succeed at the expense of your heart. Tell me openly what are your wishes; speak freely, and you shall see whether I am your friend.

Eleon. [Aside.] If I durst, but – No, no.

Dor. Have you any dislike to my brother?

Eleon. I have not long had the honour of his acquaintance, Madame.

Dor. His age, for example, may seem a little too great when compared with your own.

Eleon. The age of a man does not appear to me a thing of great importance.

Dor. You perhaps think that my brother is rather too economical.

Eleon. You know, Madame, I have been educated in economy.

Dor. If so, my dear Eleonora, to my great satisfaction, I have been entirely mistaken, and you will be perfectly happy with my brother.

Eleon. I! – Do you think so?

Dor. No doubt; it cannot be otherwise. I have questioned you with the best intentions, and you have answered – sincerely, as I must believe.

Eleon. Oh, certainly.

Dor. Then be at peace; your heart tells me you will be happy.

Eleon. [Affected.] My heart, Madame!

Dor. Your heart.

Eleon. Ah! I do not understand my own heart.

Dor. Why are you so much moved?

Eleon. [Looking off the stage.] Did not some one call me?

Dor. Called? Where? By whom?

Eleon. [Going.] Perhaps my mother – perhaps somebody —

Dor. No, no; pray stay. Your mother knows you are with me, and therefore cannot be in fear. I have something more to say to you.

Eleon. [Aside.] How difficult to disguise my feelings!

Dor. Remember, your heart has told me —

Eleon. [Timorously.] What, Madame?

Dor. You are in love with another.