GORG. Truly there is great need to spend so much money to grease your
faces. Pray tell me, what have you done to those gentlemen, that I saw
them go away with so much coldness. Did I not order you to receive them
as persons whom I intended for your husbands?
MAD. Dear father, what consideration do you wish us to entertain for the
irregular behaviour of these people?
CAT. How can a woman of ever so little understanding, uncle, reconcile
herself to such individuals?
GORG. What fault have you to find with them?
MAD. Their's is fine gallantry, indeed. Would you believe it? they began
with proposing marriage to us.
GORG. What would you have them begin with--with a proposal to keep you
as mistresses? Is not their proposal a compliment to both of you, as
well as to me? Can anything be more polite than this? And do they not
prove the honesty of their intentions by wishing to enter these holy
bonds?
MAD. O, father! Nothing can be more vulgar than what you have just said.
I am ashamed to hear you talk in such a manner; you should take some
lessons in the elegant way of looking at things.
GORG. I care neither for elegant ways nor songs. I tell you marriage is
a holy and sacred affair; to begin with that is to act like honest
people.
[Footnote: The original has a play on words. Madelon says, in addressing
her father, _vous devriez un pen vous faire apprendre le bel air des
choses_, upon which he answers, _je n'ai que faire ni d'air ni de
chanson_. _Air_ means tune as well as look, appearance.]
MAD. Good Heavens! If everybody was like you a love-story would soon be
over. What a fine thing it would have been if Cyrus had immediately
espoused Mandane, and if Aronce had been married all at once to Clélie.
[Footnote: _Cyrus_ and _Mandane_ are the two principal characters of
Mademoiselle de Scudéry's novel _Artamene, on the Grand Cyrus_; _Aronce_
and _Clélie_ of the novel _Clélie_, by the same author.]
GORG. What is she jabbering about?
MAD. Here is my cousin, father, who will tell as well as I that
matrimony ought never to happen till after other adventures. A lover, to
be agreeable, must understand how to utter fine sentiments, to breathe
soft, tender, and passionate vows; his courtship must be according to
the rules. In the first place, he should behold the fair one of whom he
becomes enamoured either at a place of worship, [Footnote: See note 15,
page 33.] or when out walking, or at some public ceremony; or else he
should be introduced to her by a relative or a friend, as if by chance,
and when he leaves her he should appear in a pensive and melancholy
mood. For some time he should conceal his passion from the object of his
love, but pay her several visits, in every one of which he ought to
introduce some gallant subject to exercise the wits of all the company.
When the day comes to make his declarations--which generally should be
contrived in some shady garden-walk while the company is at a
distance--it should be quickly followed by anger, which is shown by our
blushing, and which, for a while, banishes the lover from our presence.
He finds afterwards means to pacify us, to accustom us gradually to hear
him depict his passion, and to draw from us that confession which causes
us so much pain. After that come the adventures, the rivals who thwart
mutual inclination, the persecutions of fathers, the jealousies arising
without any foundation, complaints, despair, running away with, and its
consequences. Thus things are carried on in fashionable life, and
veritable gallantry cannot dispense with these forms. But to come out
point-blank with a proposal of marriage,--to make no love but with a
marriage-contract, and begin a novel at the wrong end! Once more,
father, nothing can be more tradesmanlike, and the mere thought of it
makes me sick at heart.
GORG. What deuced nonsense is all this? That is highflown language with
a vengeance!
CAT. Indeed, uncle, my cousin hits the nail on the head. How can we
receive kindly those who are so awkward in gallantry. I could lay a
wager they have not even seen a map of the country of _Tenderness_, and
that _Love-letters_, _Trifling attentions_, _Polite epistles_, and
_Sprightly verses_, are regions to them unknown.
[Footnote: The map of the country of Tenderness (_la carte de Tendre_)
is found in the first part of _Clélie_ (see note 2, page 146);
Love-letter (_Billetdoux_); Polite epistle (_Billet galant_); Trifling
attentions (_Petit Soins_); Sprightly verses (_Jolts vers_), are the
names of villages to be found in the map, which is a curiosity in its
way.]
Do you not see that the whole person shews it, and that their external
appearance is not such as to give at first sight a good opinion of them.
To come and pay a visit to the object of their love with a leg without
any ornaments, a hat without any feathers, a head with its locks not
artistically arranged, and a coat that suffers from a paucity of
ribbons. Heavens! what lovers are these! what stinginess in dress! what
barrenness of conversation! It is not to be allowed; it is not to be
borne. I also observed that their ruffs
[Footnote: The ruff (_rabat_) was at first only the shirt-collar pulled
out and worn outside the coat. Later ruffs were worn, which were not
fastened to the shirt, sometimes adorned with lace, and tied in front
with two strings with tassels. The _rabat_ was very fashionable during
the youthful years of Louis XIV.]
were not made by the fashionable milliner, and that their breeches were
not big enough by more than half-a-foot.
GORG. I think they are both mad, nor can I understand anything of this
gibberish. Cathos, and you Madelon...
MAD. Pray, father, do not use those strange names, and call us by some
other.
GORG. What do you mean by those strange names? Are they not the names
your godfathers and godmothers gave you?
MAD. Good Heavens! how vulgar you are! I confess I wonder you could
possibly be the father of such an intelligent girl as I am. Did ever
anybody in genteel style talk of Cathos or of Madelon? And must you not
admit that either of these names would be sufficient to disgrace the
finest novel in the world?
CAT. It is true, uncle, an ear rather delicate suffers extremely at
hearing these words pronounced, and the name of Polixena, which my
cousin has chosen, and that of Amintha, which I took, possesses a charm,
which you must needs acknowledge.
[Footnote: The _precieuses_ often changed their names into more poetical
and romantic appellations. The Marquise de Rambouillet, whose real name
was Catherine, was known under the anagram of Arthenice.]
GORG. Hearken; one word will suffice. I do not allow you to take any
other names than those that were given you by your godfathers and
godmothers; and as for those gentlemen we are speaking about, I know
their families and fortunes, and am determined they shall be your
husbands. I am tired of having you upon my hands. Looking after a couple
of girls is rather too weighty a charge for a man of my years.
CAT. As for me, uncle, all I can say is, that I think marriage a very
shocking business. How can one endure the thought of lying by the side
of a man, who is really naked?
MAD. Give us leave to take breath for a short time among the fashionable
world of Paris, where we are but just arrived. Allow us to prepare at
our leisure the groundwork of our novel, and do not hurry on the
conclusion too abruptly.
GORG. (_Aside_). I cannot doubt it any longer; they are completely mad.
(_Aloud_). Once more, I tell you, I understand nothing of all this
gibberish; I will be master, and to cut short all kinds of arguments,
either you shall both be married shortly, or, upon my word, you shall be
nuns; that I swear.
[Footnote: This scene is the mere outline of the well known quarrel
between Chrysale, Philaminte, and Belinda in the "_Femmes Savantes_"
(see vol. iii.) but a husband trembling before his wife, and only daring
to show his temper to his sister, is a much more tempting subject for a
dramatic writer than a man addressing in a firm tone his daughter and
niece.]