‘No, I haven’t been presented to her—although I have seen her,’ she said.
‘And yet you speak of her as though you had much frequented her? You put me in mind, Mademoiselle, of the troupe of players in my brother’s comedy who called themselves Comédiens du Roi, although they had played before His Majesty but once,’ said Mademoiselle de Scudéry coldly.
‘In earnest, I have no wish to pass as Madame Scarron’s comedian. Rumour has it she was born in a prison,’ Madeleine rejoined insolently. ‘Moreover, I gather from her friends, the only merit in her prudishness is that it acts as a foil to her husband’s wit.’
Mademoiselle de Scudéry merely raised her eyebrows, and Conrart, attempting to make things more comfortable, said with a good-natured smile,—
‘Ah! Sappho, the young people have their own ideas about things, I dare swear, and take pleasure in the genre burlesque!’
(Jacques would have smiled to hear Madeleine turned into the champion of the burlesque!) ‘Well, all said, the burlesque, were it to go to our friend Ménage (whom one might call the Hozier[4] of literary forms) might get a fine family tree for itself, going back to the Grecian Aristophanes—is that not so, Chevalier?’ went on Conrart. The Chevalier smiled non-committally.
‘No, no,’ interrupted Madeleine; ‘certainly not Aristophanes. I should say that the Grecian Anthology is the founder of the family; a highly respectable ancestor, though de robe rather than d’épée, for I am told Alexandrian Greek is not as noble as that of Athens. It contains several epigrams, quite in the manner of Saint-Amant.’ She was quoting Jacques, from whom, without knowing a word of Greek, she had gleaned certain facts about Greek construction and literature.
Though Conrart never tried to conceal his ignorance of Greek, he could scarcely relish a reminder of it, while to be flatly contradicted by a fair damsel was not in his Chinese picture of Ladies and Sages. Mademoiselle de Scudéry came to his rescue,—
‘For myself, I have always held that all an honnête homme need know is Italian and Spanish’—(here she smiled at Conrart, who was noted for his finished knowledge of these two tongues)—‘the nature of the passions, l’usage de monde, and above all, Mythology, but that can be studied in a translation quite as well as in the original Greek or Latin. This is the necessary knowledge for an honnête homme, but as the word honnête covers a quantity of agreeable qualities, such as a swift imagination, an exquisite judgment, an excellent memory, and a lively humour naturally inclined to learning about everything it sees that is curious and that it hears mentioned as worthy of praise, the possessor of these qualities will naturally add a further store of agreeable information to the accomplishments I have already mentioned. These accomplishments are necessary also to an honnête femme, but as well as being able to speak Italian and Spanish, she must be able to write her native French; I must confess that the orthography of various distinguished ladies of my acquaintance is barely decent! As well as knowing the nature and movements of the Passions she must know the causes and effects of maladies, and a quantity of receipts for the making of medicaments and perfumes and cordials ... in fact of both useful and gallant distillations, as necessity or pleasure may demand. As well as being versed in Mythology, that is to say, in the amours and exploits of ancient gods and heroes, she must know what I will call the modern Mythology, that is to say the doings of her King and the historiettes of the various Belles and Gallants of the Court and Town.’