THOMAS. Here, John!
JOHN [enters], An’t please your worship.
THOMAS. Let all my things be packed up again in the coach they came in; — and send Betty here this instant with your mistress’s riding dress. Come, madam, you must strip yourself of your puppet-show dress, as I will of mine; they will make you ridiculous in the country, where there is still something of Old England remaining. Come, no words, no delay; by Heaven! if you but affect to loiter, I will send orders with you to lock you up, and allow you only the bare necessaries of life. You shall know I’m your husband, and will be obeyed.
WIFE [crying]. And must I go into the country by myself? Shall I not have a husband, or a lord, or any body? — If I must go, won’t you go with me?
THOMAS. Can you expect it? Can you ask me after what hath happened?
WIFE. What I did, was only to be a fine lady, and what they told me other fine ladies do, and I should never have thought of in the country; but if you will forgive me, I will never attempt to be more than a plain gentlewoman again.
THOMAS. Well, and as a plain gentlewoman you shall have pleasure some fine ladies may envy. Come, dry your eyes; my own folly, not yours, is to blame; and that I am only angry with.
WIFE. And will yon go with me then, Tommy?
THOMAS. Ay, my dear, and stay with thee too; I desire no more to be in this town, than to have thee here.
GOODWILL. Henceforth I will know no degree, no difference between men, but what the standards of honour and virtue create: the noblest birth without these is but splendid infamy; and a footman with these qualities, is a man of honour.
SONG.
WIFE. Welcome again, ye rural plains;
Innocent nymphs and virtuous swains:
Farewell town, and all its sights;
Beaus and lords, and gay delights:
All is idle pomp and noise;
Virtuous love gives greater joys.
CHORUS.
All is idle pomp and noise;
Virtuous love gives greater joys.
PLUTUS, THE GOD OF RICHE S
One of Fielding’s last plays to be published in his lifetime, Plutus is a translation of the ancient Greek playwright Aristophanes’ comedy ‘Wealth’, which was first performed in 388 BC. A political satire on contemporary Athens, it features the personified god of wealth, Plutus. Reflecting the development of Old Comedy towards New Comedy, it uses such familiar character types as the foolish master and the insubordinate slave to attack the morals of the time.
The plot features an elderly Athenian citizen, Chremylos and his slave Cario. Chremylos presents himself and his family as virtuous but poor, and has accordingly gone to seek advice from an oracle. The play begins as he returns to Athens from Delphi, having been instructed by Apollo to follow the first man he meets and persuade him to come home with him. That man turns out to be the god Plutus — who is, contrary to all expectations, a blind beggar. After much argument, Plutus is convinced to enter Chremylus’ house, where he will have his vision restored, meaning that “wealth” will now go only to those who deserve it in one way or another. The play was originally written at a time when Athens was ridden in poverty due to the extended conflict she had with Sparta, as the two cities fought for hegemony across the Greek world.
Aristophanes (c. 446-386 BC), was a comic playwright of ancient Athens. Eleven of his 40 plays survive virtually complete. These, together with fragments of some of his other plays, provide the only real examples of a genre of comic drama known as Old Comedy, and they are used to define the genre. Plutus was one of his last plays.
CONTENTS
DEDICATION
PREFACE
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
PLUTUS
DEDICATION
TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE THE
LORD TALBOT.
MY LORD,
IN an age when learning hath so few friends, and fewer patrons, it might require an apology to introduce an ancient Greek poet to a person of an exalted station.
For could the poet himself revive, and attend many such in his own person, he would be esteemed an unfashionable visitor, and might, perhaps, find some difficulty in gaining admittance.
But when we reflect on the revered name of the late Lord Chancellor of Great Britain, who, at the head of the greatest excellences and abilities, which ever warmed the heart, or embellished the understanding of man, preserved (which is, perhaps, the highest of human perfections) the most tender regard for the distressed; when we recollect what manifest tokens you have given that you inherit the virtues of that truly great and amiable person, we are emboldened, rather than discouraged, by this very consideration, to address the following attempt to your Lordship.
Permit us then, my Lord, to recommend Aristophanes; and with him, the distressed, and at present, declining, state of learning to your protection.
The greatness of this author’s genius need not be mentioned to your Lordship; but there is a much stronger recommendation to one of your known principles. He exerted that genius in the service of his country. He attacked and exposed its enemies and betrayers with a boldness and integrity, which must endear his memory to every true and sincere patriot.
In presenting Aristophanes, therefore, to your, Lordship, we present him to one, whom he, had he been an Englishman, would have chosen for his patron. Permit us, therefore, to make him this amends for the injury done him in our translation, and to subscribe ourselves,
My LORD,
Your Lordship’s most Obedient, and most Humble Servants,
HENRY FIELDING, WILLIAM YOUNG.
PREFACE
As we intend, if we proceed in this work, to prefix to it a very large dissertation on the nature and end of Comedy, with an account of its original, rise, and progress to this day; which will include a full view of the Grecian stage: we shall at present confine ourselves to a very few words, in recommendation of our author himself, and in apology for this translation.
Aristophanes was born about four hundred and sixty years before Christ, most probably in an island called Ægina, near Athens, where it is certain he had an estate. He is one of the oldest professors of the Comic art, and indeed lived so very near the original of the drama, that, besides the admiration due to his deep discernment in human nature, to the incomparable humor of his characters, to his wit, style, numbers, &c which have received great eulogiums both from ancient and modern critics; we must be astonished at the regularity and order of his Comedies, to which in more than two thousand years successive poets have been able to add so little.
We have not room here to relate half, which hath been written in praise of our author, the honors which he received, not only from his own countrymen, who ordered his name to be enrolled above those of all his cotemporaries; but from the Emperor of Persia, who considered him merely from the force of his wit, and the uses he applied it to, as a person of the greatest consequence in Athens.
But as the esteem of one great, and wise, and good man, is infinitely preferable to the giddy shouts of the rabble, or to the capricious favor of kings, we hasten to the account given by Olympiodorus in his life of Plato; who tells us, that a Very intimate acquaintance subsisted between the philosopher and the poet; and that the former learnt, from the writings of the latter, the art of adapting in his Dialogues the diction to the character of the speaker. Indeed it is impossible to read the works of both with any attention, without observing the most striking similitude in their expression; both being remarkable for that Attic purity of language, and the elegant use of those particles, which, though they give such an inexpressible nervous force to the diction of these authors, have been represented as expletives, and useless by the ignorance of posterity.
The affection of Plato for Aristophanes is reported to have been so extremely strong, that, after the death of the philosopher, a volume of the other’s comedies were found in his bed.
The Graces, endeavoring to obtain a never falling temple, found one in the Geniu
s of Aristophanes.
We know that Plato, in his Phaedon, speaks against a comic poet with the utmost vehemence; and, in his apology for Socrates, mentions Aristophanes among his false accusers by name; and that Ælian ascribes the death of Socrates to the ridicule brought on him by the comedy of “The Clouds with which Diogenes Laertius seems to assent: but we question not refuting this story, if ever it be our fortune to translate that play.
But farther, the elegance of his style, and the justness of his sentiments, recommended him, notwithstanding his impurities, to the primitive Fathers of the Church. Thus we find him several times quoted by, Clemens Alexandrinus; and there is a tradition, that St. Chrysostom held him in so great favor, as never to sleep without one of his comedies under his pillow, in order to begin the next day’s reading with the works of the most correct writer. And to this perhaps we may justly ascribe that Father’s having surpassed all the rest in the purity of his diction and hence likewise he probably drew that remarkable acrimony of style, in which he hath so severely exposed the faults of the fair sex; which latter we the rather mention, as it takes off an ill-natured observation, which might otherwise have insinuated, that the purity of our author’s diction did not alone recommend him to the Father for a bed-fellow.
To conclude this part of our Preface, Longinus gives the character of sublime to our author’s diction; Horace commends the freedom and justice, with which he lashed the vices of his time: indeed so great hath been always Ins reputation, that, as M. Dacier observes, to deny his merit, would be to give the lie to all antiquity.
It may seem therefore impossible, that the works of such an author should fail of success in any language, unless through the fault of the translation; to which our reader will, I suppose, if he finds this play disagree with his taste, impute it.
There are some, lam told, professed admirers of Aristophanes in the Greek, who assert the impossibility of translating him; which, in my opinion, is asserting, in other words, the impossibility of understanding him: for sure a man must have a very Superficial knowledge of his own language, who cannot communicate his ideas in it. If the original conveys clear and adequate ideas to me, I must be capable of delivering them to others in that language, which I am myself a perfect master of. I am deceived, therefore, if the complaints of translators do not generally arise from the same cause with those I have often heard made in conversation by men, who have mistaken some floating imperfect images in their minds for clear and distinct conceptions, and bitterly lament that they are unable to express themselves: whereas a man, who conceives clearly, will, I apprehend, always express himself so.
I remember a translation of a celebrated line in Lucan into French, which is thus:
“Victrix causa Deis placuit, sed victa Catoni.”
“Les Dieux servent César, mais Caton suit Pompée.”
The sense of the Latin is,
The Gods embraced the cause of the conqueror, but Cato that of the conquered.
The sense of the French is,
The Gods preserved Cæsar, but Cato followed Pompey.
Will any man say, that this Frenchman understood his author, or that Lucan had conveyed the same idea to him, which he himself had conceived when he wrote that excellent and beautiful compliment to Cato.
To mention no more instances, (for thousands occur in most translations) I am convinced that the complaint of the difficulty of rendering an author in the translators own language, arises commonly from the difficulty of comprehending him.
I do not, however, affect to say, that a translation labors under no disadvantage, or that it can be entirely alter et idem.
On the contrary, I am sensible, that in this particular undertaking we have three principal ones to encounter.
First, we are to render a purer and more copious language in that which is impurer and more confined. This drives us often from literally pursuing the original, and makes a periphrasis necessary to explain a single word, or the concisest expression:
Secondly, There *is in Aristophanes a great deal of that wit, which consists merely in the words themselves, and is so inseparable from them, that it is impossible Nto transfer it into any others: but this is a species of wit, which our readers of the better taste will not much repine at being deprived of. It is indeed sometimes found in good authors, where it appears like a tinsel-ornament on a beautiful woman, to catch the admiration of vulgar eyes, and to offend persons of real taste. However, that we might oblige all, and be as faithful to our author as possible, where we have not been able to preserve such facetiousness in our text, we have generally remarked it in our notes.
The last disadvantage I shall mention, is the harmony, which, in many places of the original, is excellently sweet. This perhaps, I should have thought impossible to preserve, had not the inimitable author of the “Essay on Man taught me a system of philosophy in English numbers, whose sweetness is scarce inferior to that of Theocritus himself: but
“Non omnia possumus omnes.”
These are indeed objections, which can only be made by our most learned readers, whom perhaps our close adherence to our author, and particularly in the simplicity of his language, may in some measure conciliate to us. The most dangerous and fatal enemies we are to - dread, are those, whom this very simplicity may offend;; the admirers of that pretty, dapper, brisk, smart, pert dialogue, which hath lately florished on our stage. This was first introduced with infinite wit by Wycherley, and continued with still less and less by his successors, till it is at last degenerated into such sort of pleasantry as this in the “Provoked Husband”:
Manly. If that were my case, I believe I should certainly sleep in another house.
L. Grace. How do you mean?
Manly. Only a compliment, Madam.
L. Grace. A compliment!
Manly. Yes, Madam, in rather turning myself out of doors than her. — a L. Grace. Don’t you think that would be going too far?
Manly. I don’t know but it might, Madam: for in strict justice I think she ought rather to go than I.
Again.
L. Grace. Can a husband love a wife too well?
Manly. As easily, Madam, as a wife may love her husband too little.
L. Grace. ‘Tis pity but your mistress should hear your doctrine.
Manly. Pity me, Madam, when I marry the woman that won’t hear it, &c. &c. &c.
This sort of stuff, which is, I think, called genteel comedy, and in which our laureate succeeded so excellently well, both as author and actor, had some years ago taken almost sole possession of our stage, and banished Shakespear, Fletcher, Johnson, &c from it; the last of whom, of all our English poets, seems chiefly to have studied and imitated Aristophanes, which we have remarked more than once in our notes. To such therefore of our readers, whose palates are vitiated with the theatrical diet I have above-mentioned, I would recommend a play or two of Johnson’s, to be taken as a kind of preparative before they enter on this play; for otherwise the simplicity of its style, for want being sweetened with modern quaintness, may, like old wine after sugar-plums, appear insipid, and without any flavor. But our readers of a purer taste and sounder judgment, will be able, we apprehend, to digest good sense, manly wit, just satire, and true humor, without those garnishments which we could with infinitely greater ease have supplied (as others have done) in the room of our author’s meaning, than have preserved it in his own plain simplicity of style.
It may be expected that we should here take some notice of the other translations of this play, especially those two of M. Dacier and Mr. Theobald, which we have sometimes taken the liberty of dissenting from in our translation, and on which we have commented with some freedom in our notes; but if we are right on these occasions, little apology will be required; if wrong, we shall gladly embrace correction, nor persist obstinately in error. I own, we have more to answer to the memory of the lady than to Mr. Theobald, who, being a critic of great nicety himself, and great diligence in correcting mistakes in others, cannot be offended a
t the same treatment. Indeed there are some parts of his work, which I should be more surprised at, had he not informed us in his dedication, that he was assisted in it by M. Dacier. We are not therefore much to wonder, if Mr. Theobald errs a little, when we find his guide going before out of the way.
We shall conclude our Preface with the argument of this play, as left us by Mr. Addison in his 464th Spectator.
“Chremylus, who was an old and a good man, and withal exceeding poor, being desirous to leave some riches to his son, consults the oracle of Apollo upon the subject. The oracle bids him follow the first man he should see upon his going out of the temple. The person he chanced to see was to appearance an old sordid blind man, but, upon his following him from place to place, he at last found by his own confession, that he was Plutus, the God of Riches, and that he was just come out of the house of a miser. Plutus further told him, that when hq was a boy, he used to declare, that, as soon as he came to age, he would distribute wealth to none but virtuous and just men; upon which, Jupiter considering the pernicious consequences of such a resolution, took his sight away from him, and left him to stroll about the world in the blind condition wherein Chremylus beheld him. With much ado Chremylus prevailed upon him to go to his house, where he met an old woman in a tattered raiment, who had been his guest for many years, and whose name was Poverty. The old woman refusing to turn out so easily as he would have her, he threatened to banish her, not only from his own house, but out of all Greece, if she made any more words upon the matter. Poverty on this occasion pleads her cause very notably, and represents to her old landlord that, should she be driven out of the country, all their trades, arts and sciences would be driven out with her; and that if every one was rich, they would never be supplied with those pomps, ornaments and conveniences of life, which made riches desirable. She likewise represented to him the several advantages which she bestowed upon her votaries, in regard to their shape, their health, and their activity, by preserving them from gouts, dropsies, unwieldiness, and intemperance. But, whatever she had to say for herself, she was at last forced to troop off. Chremylus immediately considered how he might restore Plutus to his sight; and in order to it conveyed him to the temple of Æsculapius, who was famous for cures and miracles of this nature. By this means the Deity recovered his eyes, and began to make a right use of them, by enriching every one that was distinguished by piety towards the Gods, and justice towards men; and at the same time by taking away his gifts from the impious and undeserving. This produces several merry incidents, till in the last act Mercury descends with great complaints from the Gods, that, since the good men were grown rich, they had received no sacrifices, which is confirmed by a priest of Jupiter, who enters with a remonstrance, that since this late innovation he was reduced to a starving condition, and could not live upon his office. Chremylus, who, in the beginning of the play, was religious in his poverty, concludes it with a proposal, which was relished by all the good men, who were now grown rich as well as himself, that they should carry Plutus in a solemn procession to the temple, and instal him in the place of Jupiter. This allegory instructed the Athenians in two points, first, as it vindicated the conduct of providence in its ordinary distributions of wealth; and in the next place, as it showed the great tendency of riches to corrupt the morals of those, who possessed them.”
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 349
