Gil Blas, Alain-René Lesage [best romance ebooks .txt] 📗

think of the men?” interrupted the Marquis; “you must give them no quarter, since you have handled the women so roughly.”

“Not so,” said Don Pompeyo. “There are some promising young actors, and I am particularly well pleased with that corpulent performer who played the part of Dido’s prime minister. His recitation is unaffected, and he declaims just as they do in Portugal.”

“If you can bear such a fellow as that,” said Segiar, “you must be charmed with the representative of Aeneas. Did not you think him a great, an original performer!”

“Very original, indeed,” answered the critic; “his inflections are quite his own, they are as shrill as a hautboy. Almost always out of nature, he rattles the impressive words of the sentence off his tongue, while he labors and lingers on the expletives; the poor conjunctions are frightened at their own report as they go off. He entertained me excessively, and especially when he was expressing in confidence his distress at abandoning the princess: never was grief more ludicrously depicted.”

“Fair and softly, cousin,” replied Don Alexo; “you will make us believe at last that good taste is not greatly cultivated at the court of Portugal. Do you know that the actor of whom we are speaking is esteemed a phenomenon? Did you not observe what thunders of applause he called down? He cannot therefore be contemptible.”

“That therefore does not prove the proposition,” replied Don Pompeyo. “But, gentlemen, let us lay aside, I beseech you, the injudicious suffrages of the pit; they are often given to performers very unseasonably. Indeed, their boisterous tokens of approbation are more frequently bestowed on paltry copies than an original merit, as Phedrus teaches us by an ingenious fable. Allow me to repeat it as follows:⁠—

“The whole population of a city was assembled in a large square to see a pantomime played. Among the performers there was one whose feats were applauded every instant. This buffoon, at the end of the entertainment, wished to close the scene with a new device. He came alone upon the stage, stooping down, covering his head with his mantle, and began counterfeiting the squeak of a pig. He acquitted himself so naturally as to be suspected of having the animal itself concealed within the folds of his drapery. He stripped, but there was no pig. The assembly rang with more furious applause than ever. A peasant, among the spectators, was disgusted at this misplaced admiration.

“ ‘Gentlemen,’ exclaimed he, ‘you are in the wrong to be so delighted with this buffoon; he is not so good a mimic as you take him for. I can enact the pig better; if you doubt it, only attend here this time tomorrow.’

“The people, prejudiced in the cause of their favorite, collected in greater numbers on the next day, rather to hiss the countryman than to see what he could do. The rivals appeared on the stage. The buffoon began, and was more applauded than the day before. Then the farmer, stooping down in his turn, with his head wrapped up in his cloak, pulled the ear of a real pig under his arm, and made it squeal most horribly. Yet this enlightened audience persisted in giving the preference to their favorite, and hooted the countryman off the boards; who, producing the pig before he went, said, ‘Gentlemen, you are not hissing me, but the original pig. So much for your judgment.’ ”

“Cousin,” said Don Alexo, “your fable is rather satirical. Nevertheless, in spite of your pig, we will not bate an inch of our opinion. But let us change the subject, this is grown threadbare. Then you set off tomorrow, do what we can to keep you with us longer?”

“I should like,” answered his kinsman, “to protract my stay with you, but it is not in my power. I have told you already that I am come to the court of Spain on an affair of state. Yesterday, on my arrival, I had a conference with the prime minister; I am to see him tomorrow morning, and shall set out immediately afterwards on my return to Lisbon.”

“You are become quite a Portuguese,” observed Segiar, “and to all appearance, we shall lose you entirely from Madrid.”

“I think otherwise,” replied Don Pompeyo, “I have the honor to stand well with the King of Portugal, and have many motives of attachment to that court; yet with all the kindness that sovereign has testified towards me, would you believe that I have been on the point of quitting his dominions forever.”

“Indeed! by what strange accident?” said the marquis. “Give us the history, I beseech you.”

“Very readily,” answered Don Pompeyo, “and at the same time my own, for it is closely interwoven with the recital for which you have called.”

VII

History of Don Pompeyo de Castro.

“Don Alexo knows, that from my boyish days, my passion was for a military life. Our own country being at peace, I went into Portugal; thence to Africa with the Duke of Braganza, who gave me a commission. I was a younger brother, with as slender a provision as most in Spain; so that my only chance was in attracting the notice of the commander-in-chief by my bravery. I was so far from deficient in my duty, that the duke promoted me, step by step, to one of the most honorable posts in the service. After a long war, of which you all know the issue, I devoted myself to the court; and the king, on strong testimonials from the general officers, rewarded me with a considerable pension. Alive to that sovereign’s generosity, I lost no opportunity of proving my gratitude by my diligence. I was in attendance as often as etiquette would allow me to offer myself to his notice. By this conduct I gained insensibly the love of that prince, and received new favors from his hands.

“One day, when I distinguished myself in running at the ring, and in a bullfight preceding it, all the court extolled my strength and