The School for Wives was about a man, Arnolphe, who had a caregiver raise an orphaned young girl he knew, Agnes, so that she would eventually become his wife. He didn't believe that women being smart could do men any good, so she was raised in seclusion, in complete ignorance and with the utmost simplicity. It definitely all comes back to bite him in the rear when she comes of age and innocently falls in love with someone else, Horace, right when the Arnolphe is about to make her his wife. I loved how, despite his best efforts and his own set of wifely rules, he still fell in love with her and was willing to throw it all to the wind and let her be the boss of him, hee hee. My brother played Horace in a production of The School for Wives in Summer Stock one year. Oh, how I would have loved to see him in that. I remember him saying how funny the play was. I can only think of him and imagine him as the younger man in love. :-) Here are a couple of passages, including the rules.
Here are his reasons for keeping her stupid:
I cannot do better than make her my wife. I shall be able to mould
her as I please; she is like a bit of wax in my hands, and I can give her what
shape I like. She was near being wiled away from me in my absence through her
excess of simplicity; but, to say the truth, it is better that a wife should err
on that side. The cure for these faults is easy; every simple person is docile;
and if she is led out of the right way, a couple of words will instantly bring
her back again. But a clever woman is quite another sort of animal. Our lot
depends only on her judgment; nought can divert her from what she is set on, and
our teaching in such a case is futile. Her wit avails her to ridicule our
maxims, often to turn her vices into virtues, and to find means to cheat the
ablest, so as to compass her own ends. We labour in vain to parry the blow; a
clever woman is a devil at intrigue, and when her whim has mutely passed
sentence on our honour, we must knock under.
And, here are his rules:
Agnès(reads). “The Maxims of Marriage; or the Duties of a Wife; together with her Daily Exercise.
“First Maxim.
“She who is honourably wed should remember, notwithstanding the fashion now-a-days, that the man who marries does not take a wife for anyone but himself.’’
Arnolphe. I shall explain what that means, but at present let us only read.
Agnès(continues)—
“Second Maxim.
“She ought not to bedeck herself more than her husband likes. The care of her beauty concerns him alone; and if others think her plain, that must go for nothing.
“Third Maxim.
“Far from her be the study of ogling, washes, paints, pomatums, and the thousand preparations for a good complexion. These are ever fatal poisons to honour; and the pains bestowed to look beautiful are seldom taken for a husband.
“Fourth Maxim.
“When she goes out, she should conceal the glances of her eyes beneath her hood, as honour requires; for in order to please her husband rightly, she should please none else.
“Fifth Maxim.
“It is fit that she receive none but those who visit her husband. The gallants that have no business but with the wife, are not agreeable to the husband.
“Sixth Maxim.
“She must firmly refuse presents from men, for in these days nothing is given for nothing.
“Seventh Maxim.
“Amongst her furniture, however she dislikes it, there must be neither writing-desk, ink, paper, nor pens. According to all good rules everything written in the house should be written by the husband.
“Eighth Maxim.
“Those disorderly meetings, called social gatherings, ever corrupt the minds of women. It is good policy to forbid them; for there they conspire against the poor husbands.
“Ninth Maxim.
“Every woman who wishes to preserve her honour should abstain from gambling as a plague; for play is very seductive, and often drives a woman to put down her last stake.
“Tenth Maxim.
“She must not venture on public promenades nor picnics; for wise men are of opinion that it is always the husband who pays for such treats.
“Eleventh Maxim…’’
Arnolphe. You shall finish it by yourself; and, by and by, I shall explain these things to you properly, word for word. I bethink myself of an engagement. I have but one word to say, and I shall not stay long. Go in again, and take special care of this volume. If the notary comes, let him wait for me a short time.
And finally, he comes full circle and will agree to anything if she'll just love him instead of Hector. Score!
Arnolphe. Poor little darling, you can if you will. Just listen to this sigh of love. See this dying look, behold my person, and forsake this young coxcomb and the love he inspires. He must have thrown some spell over you, and you will be a hundred times happier with me. Your desire is to be finely dressed and frolicsome; then I swear you shall ever be so; I will fondle you night and day, I will hug you, kiss you, devour you; you shall do everything you have a mind to. I do not enter into particulars; and that is saying everything. (Aside). To what length will my passion go? (Aloud). In short, nothing can equal my love. What proof would you have me give you, ungrateful girl? Would you have me weep? Shall I beat myself? Shall I tear out one half of my hair? Shall I kill myself? Yes, say so if you will. I am quite ready, cruel creature, to convince you of my love.
In Tartuffe, Orgon, a father and husband, is completely blinded by a destitute, false religious zealot, Tartuffe, even taking him into his house and preferring his company, and more importantly, believing his word over his closest family members! I love the dialogue in this play! It takes some clever maneuverings by the household to get the father to see the error of his ways....but not before he's signed over all his worldly possessions to the hypocrite Tartuffe. Love the twist at the end. And, I loved the daughter's maid, Dorine, the most! She had the best lines. In this passage below, Orgon has returned home from a trip and is asking Dorine how everyone in the house was while he was gone. Even though Dorine tries to tell him of his wife's illness, he truly only cares how his new friend Tartuffe got along:
Scene V.—Orgon, Cléante, Dorine.
Orgon. Ha! good morrow, brother.
Cléante. I was just going, and am glad to see you returned.
The country is not very cheering at present.
Orgon. Dorine … (to Cléante). Pray, one moment,
brother-in-law. Allow me to inquire the news here to ease my mind. (To
Dorine). Has everything gone on well these two days? What are they doing, and
how are they all?
Dorine. The day before yesterday my mistress had an attack
of fever until evening, accompanied by an extraordinary headache.
Orgon. And Tartuffe?
Dorine. Tartuffe! He is wonderfully well, stout and fat,
with a fresh complexion, and a ruddy mouth.
Orgon. Poor fellow!
Dorine. In the evening she felt very sick, and could not
touch a morsel of supper, so violent was still the pain in her head.
Orgon. And Tartuffe?
Dorine. He supped by himself in her presence; and very
devoutly ate two partridges, and half a leg of mutton hashed.
Orgon. Poor fellow!
Dorine. The whole night she did not close her eyes for a
moment. She was so feverish that she could not sleep, and we were obliged to sit
up with her until morning.
Orgon. And Tartuffe?
Dorine. Pleasantly overcome with sleep, he went to his room
when he left the table; and jumped into his cozy bed, where he slept undisturbed
until morning.
Orgon. Poor fellow!
Dorine. We at length prevailed upon the mistress to be
bled; and she was almost immediately relieved.
Orgon. And Tartuffe?
Dorine. He picked up his courage again as he ought to; and,
to fortify himself against all harm, he drank four large draughts of wine at
breakfast, to make up for the blood that the mistress had lost.
Orgon. Poor fellow!
Dorine. At present, they are both well; and I shall go and
inform the mistress how glad you feel at her recovery.
Loved it! I'm off to see who has perhaps played these characters on Broadway!
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