The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Alain René le Sage [most read books .txt] 📗
- Author: Alain René le Sage
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Vega, Cervantes, and all the host of wits who cavil at our new
modes of speech. Our party is strongly supported in the
fashionable world, and we have laid violent hands upon the
pulpit.
After all, continued he, our project is commendable; for, to
speak without prejudice, we have ten times the merit of those
natural writers, who express themselves just like the mob. I
cannot conceive why so many sensible men are taken with them. It
is all very well at Athens and at Rome, in a wild and
undistinguishing democracy; and on that principle only could
Socrates tell Alcibiades, that the last appeal was to the people
in all disputes about language. But at Madrid there is a polite
and a vulgar usage; so that our courtiers talk in a different
tongue from their tradesmen. You may assure yourself that it is
so; in fine, this newly invented style is carrying everything
before it, and turning old nature out of doors. Now I will
explain to you by a single instance the difference between the
elegance of our diction and the flatness of theirs. They would
say, for example, in plain terms, “Ballets incidental to the
piece are an ornament to a play;” but in our mode of expression,
we say more exquisitely, “Ballets incidental to the piece are the
very life and soul of the play.” Now observe the phrase; life and
soul. Are you sensible how glowing it is, at the same time how
descriptive, setting before you all the motions of the dancers,
as on an intellectual stage?
I broke in upon my reformer of language with a burst of laughter.
Get along with you, Fabricio, said I, you are a coxcomb of your
own manufacture, with your affected finery of phrase. And you,
answered he, are a blockhead of nature’s clumsy moulding, with
your starch simplicity. He then went on taunting me with the
archbishop of Grenada’s angry banter on my dismission. “Get about
your business! Go and tell my treasurer to pay you a hundred
ducats, and take my blessing in addition to that sum. God speed
you, good master Gil Blas! I heartily pray that you may do well
in the world! There is no thing to stand in your way, but a
little better taste.” I roared out in a still louder explosion of
laughter at this lucky hit; and Fabricio, easily appeased on the
score of impiety, as manifested in the opinion expressed
concerning his writings, lost nothing of his pleasant and
propitious temper. We got to the bottom of our second bottle; and
then rose from the table in fine order for an adventure. Our
first intention was to see what was to be seen upon the Prado;
but passing in front of a liquor-shop, it came into our heads
that we might as well go in.
The company was in general tolerably select at this house of
call. There were two distinct apartments; and the pastime in each
was of a very opposite nature. One was devoted to games of chance
or skill; the other to literary and scientific discussion: and
there were at that moment two clever men by profession handling
an argument most pertinaciously, before ten or twelve auditors
deeply interested in the discussion. There was no occasion to
join the circle, because the metaphysical thunder of their logic
made itself heard at a more respectful distance: the heat and
passion with which this abstract controversy was managed made the
two philosophers look little better than madmen. A certain
Eleazar used to cast out devils, by tying a ring to the nose of
the possessed; had these learned swine been ringed in the same
manner, how many little imps would have taken wing out of their
nostrils? Angels and ministers of grace defend us, said I to my
companion: what contortions of gesture, what extravagance of
elocution! One might as well argue with the town crier. How
little do we know our natural calling in society! Very true
indeed, answered he: you have read of Novius, the Roman
pawnbroker, whose lungs went as far beyond the rattle of chariot-wheels, as his conscience beyond the rate of legal interest; the
Novii must certainly have been transplanted into Spain, and these
fellows are lineal descendants. But the hopeless part of the case
is, that though our organs of sense are deafened, our
understandings are not invigorated at their expense. We thought
it best to make our escape from these braying metaphysicians, and
by that prudent motion to avoid a headache which was just
beginning to annoy us. We went and seated ourselves in a corner
of the other room, whence, as we sipped our refreshing beverage,
all comers and goers were obnoxious to our criticism. Nunez was
acquainted with almost the whole set. Heaven and earth! exclaimed
he, the clash of philosophy is as yet but in its beginning; fresh
reinforcements are coming in on both sides. Those three men just
on the threshold, mean to let slip the dogs of war. But do you
see those two queer fellows going out? That little swarthy,
leather-complexioned Adonis, with long lank hair parted in the
middle with mathematical exactness, is Don Juliano de Villanuno.
He is a young barrister, with more of the prig than the lawyer
about him. A party of us went to dine with him the other day. The
occupation we caught him in was singular enough. He was amusing
himself in his office with making a tall grey-hound fetch and
carry the briefs in the causes which were so unfortunate as to
have him retained; and of course the canine amicus curiae set his
fangs indifferently into the flesh of plaintiff or defendant,
tearing law, equity, precedent, and principle into shreds. That
licentiate at his elbow, with jolly, pimple-spangled nose and
cheeks, goes by the name of Don Cherubino Tonto. He is a canon of
Toledo, and the greatest fool that was ever suffered to walk the
earth without a keeper. And yet, he arrays his features in that
sort of not quite unmeaning smile, that you would give him credit
for good sense as well as good humour. His eye has the look of
cunning if not of wisdom, and his laugh too much of sarcasm for
an absolute idiot. One would conclude that he had a turn for
mischief, but kept it down from principle and feeling. If you
wish to take his opinion upon a work of genius, he will hear it
read with so grave and wrapt a silence, as nothing but deep
thought and acute mental criticism could justify; but the truth
is, that he comprehends not one word, and therefore can have
nothing to say. He was of the barrister party. There were a
thousand good things said, as there always must be in a
professional company. Don Cherubino added nothing to the mass of
merriment; but looked such perfect approbation at those who did,
was so tractable and complimentary a listener, that every man at
table placed him second in the comparative estimate of merit.
Do you know, said I to Nunez, who those two fellows are with
dirty clothes and matted hair, their elbows on that table in the
corner, and their cheeks upon their hands, whiffing foul breath
into each other’s nostrils as they lay their heads together? He
told me that by their faces they were strangers to him; but that
by physical and moral tokens they could only be coffee-house
politicians, venting their spleen against the measures of
government. But do look at that spruce spark, whistling as he
paces up and down the other room, and balancing himself
alternately on one toe and on the other. That is Don Augustino
Moreto, a young poet sufficiently of nature’s mint and coinage to
pass current, if flatterers and sciolists had not debased him
into a mere coxcomb by their misplaced admiration. The man to
whom he is going up with that familiar shake by the hand, is one
of the set who write verses and then call themselves poets; who
claim a speaking acquaintance with the muses, but never were of
their private parties.
Authors upon authors, nothing but authors! exclaimed he, pointing
out two dashing blades. One would think they had made an
appointment on purpose to pass in review before you. Don Bernardo
Deslenguado and Don Sebastian of Villa Viciosa! The first is a
vinegar-flavoured vintage of Parnassus, a satirist by trade and
company; he hates all the world, and is not liked the better for
his taste. As for Don Sebastian, he is the milk and honey of
criticism; he would not have the guilt of ill-nature on his
conscience for the universe. He has just brought out a comedy
without a single idea, which has succeeded with an audience of
tantamount ideas; and he has just now published it to vindicate
his innocence.
Gongora’s candid pupil was running on in his career of benevolent
explanation, when one of the Duke de Medina Sidonia’s household
came up and said: Signor Don Fabricio, my lord duke wishes to
speak with you. You will find him at home. Nunez, who knew that
the wishes of a great lord could not be too soon gratified, left
me without ceremony; but he left me in the utmost consternation,
to hear him called Don, and thus ennobled, in spite of master
Chrysostom the barber’s escutcheon, who had the honour to call
him father.
CH. XIV. — Fabricio finds a situation for Gil Blas in the
establishment of Count Galiano, a Sicilian nobleman.
I WAS too happy in Fabricio’s society, not to bunt him out again
early the next morning. Good day to you, Signor Don Fabricio,
said I on my first approach; it seems you are the picked and
chosen flower, or rather, saving your presence, the nondescript
excrescence of the Asturian nobility. This sarcasm had no other
effect than to set him laughing heartily. Then the title of Don
was not lost upon you! exclaimed he. No, indeed, my noble lord,
answered I; and you will give me leave to tell you that when you
were recounting your transformations to me yesterday, you forgot
the most extraordinary. Exactly so, replied he; but to speak
sincerely, if I have taken up that prefix of dignity, it is less
to tickle my own vanity, than in tenderness to that of others.
You know what stuff the Spaniards are made of; an honest man is
no honest man to them, if his honour is not bolstered up with
escutcheons, pedigree, and patrimony. I may tell you, moreover,
that there are so many gentry, and very queer soft of gentry too,
dubbed Don Francisco, Don Pedro, Don What-do-you-call-him, or Don
Devil, that if they owe their coats of arms to any herald but
their own impudence, modern nobility is a mere drug in the
market, so that a plebeian of nature’s ennobling confers infinite
honour on the upstarts of nn artificial creation, by herding with
their order.
But let us change the subject, added he. Last night, supping at
the Duke de Medina Sidonia’s, with among other company we had
Count Galiano, a great Sicilian nobleman, the conversation turned
upon the ridiculous effects of self-love. Delighted at having a
case in point by way of illustration, I treated them with the
story of the homilies. You may well suppose that there was a
hearty laugh, and that the archbishop’s dignity was not saved in
the concussion; but the effect was not amiss for you, since the
company felt for your situation; and Count Galiano, after a long
string of questions, which of course I answered to your
advantage, commissioned me to introduce you. I was just now going
to look after you for that purpose. In all probability he means
to offer you a situation as one
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