Chapter 6

MASTER, A SERVANT _holding two foils_.

FEN. MAS. (_taking the two foils from the hands of the_ SERVANT, _and giving one to_ MR. JOURDAIN). Now, Sir, the salute. The body upright, resting slightly on the left thigh. The legs not so far apart; the feet in a line. The wrist in a line with the thigh. The point of the foil opposite the shoulder. The arm not quite so much extended. The left hand as high as the eye. The left shoulder more squared. The head erect; the look firm. Advance; the body steady. Engage my blade in quart, and retain the engagement. One, two. As you were. Once more, with the foot firm. One, two; a step to the rear. When you make an attack, Sir, the sword should move first, and the body be well held back. One, two. Engage my blade in tierce, and retain the engagement. Advance; the body steady. Advance; one, two. Recover. Once more. One, two. A step to the rear. On guard, Sir; on guard. (_The_ FENCING MASTER _delivers two or three attacks, calling out_, "On guard!")

MR. JOUR. Ah!

MUS. MAS. You are doing wonders.

FEN. MAS. As I have already told you, the whole art of fencing consists of one of two things--in giving and not receiving; and as I showed you the other day by demonstrative reason, it is impossible for you to receive if you know how to turn aside your adversary's weapon from the line of your body; and this again depends only on a slight movement of the wrist to the inside or the out. [Footnote: Kindly corrected by Mr. Maclaren, The Gymnasium, Oxford.]

MR. JOUR. So that a man, without having any courage, is sure of killing his man, and of not being killed himself.

FEN. MAS. Exactly. Did you not see plainly the demonstration of it?

MR. JOUR. Yes.

FEN. MAS. And this shows you of what importance we must be in a state; and how much the science of arms is superior to all the other useless sciences, such as dancing, music....

DAN. MAS. Gently, Mr. Fencing Master; speak of dancing with respect, if you please.

MUS. MAS. Pray learn to treat more properly the excellence of music.

FEN. MAS. You certainly are odd sort of people to try and compare your sciences to mine.

MUS. MAS. Just see the man of importance!

DAN. MAS. A fine animal, to be sure, with his plastron.

FEN. MAS. Take care, my little dancing master, or I shall make you dance in fine style. And you, my little musician, I'll teach you to sing out.

DAN. MAS. And you, my beater of iron, I'll teach you your trade.

MR. JOUR. (_to the_ DANCING MASTER). Are you mad to go and quarrel with a man, who understands tierce and quart, and knows how to kill another by demonstrative reason?

DAN. MAS. I don't care a straw for his demonstrative reason, and his tierce and his quart.

MR. JOUR. (_to the_ DANCING MASTER). Gently, I tell you.

FEN. MAS. (_to the_ DANCING MASTER). How! You little impudent fellow!

MR. JOUR. Ah! my fencing master!

DAN. MAS. (_to the_ FENCING MASTER). How! you great cart-horse!

MR. JOUR. Stop! my dancing master!

FEN. MAS. If I once begin with you....

MR. JOUR. (_to the_ FENCING MASTER). Gently.

DAN. MAR. If I lay my hand upon you....

MR. JOUR. Softly.

FEN. MAS. I will beat you after such a fashion....

MR. JOUR. (_to the_ FENCING MASTER). For goodness sake!

DAN. MAS. I'll thrash you in such a style....

MR. JOUR. (_to the_ DANCING MASTER). I beg of you....

MUS. MAS. Let us teach him a little how to behave himself.

MR. JOUR. (_to the_ MUSIC MASTER). Gracious heavens! Do stop.