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Gentlemen of the Senate and Gentlemen of the House of Representatives: I have received a letter from His Excellency Charles Pinckney, esq., governor of the State of South Carolina, dated the 22d of October, 1797, inclosing a number of depositions of witnesses to several captures and outrages committed within and near the limits of the United States by a French privateer belonging to Cape Francois, or Monte Christo, called the Vertitude or Fortitude, and commanded by a person of the name of Jordan or Jourdain, and particularly upon an English merchant ship named the Oracabissa, which he first plundered and then burned, with the rest of her cargo, of great value, within the territory of the United States, in the harbor of Charleston, on the 17th day of October last, copies of which letter and depositions, and also of several other depositions relative to the same subject, received from the collector of Charleston, are herewith communicated.
You never used to." "Because I used to think I was pretty." Her mother smiled. "You were pretty." And took back her smile. "You'd be pretty always if you were happy, and you'd be happy if you were good. There's no happiness for any of us without Christ." She ignored the dexterous application. "Do you mean I'm not, then, really, so very ugly?" "Nobody said you were ugly." "Maurice Jourdain did."
"What man?" "Maurice Jourdain." "No. It wasn't. What made you think of him?" "Never you mind." Actually her mother was smiling and trying not to smile, as if she were thinking of something funny and improper. "There's one thing I must beg of you," she said, "that whatever you choose to think, you'll hold your tongue about it." "All my life? Like Aunt Lavvy?"
This is the fourteenth I can take possession to-morrow." They exchanged a glance, and Madame Jourdain arose. "Very well, monsieur," she said. "Will you have the kindness to come and look at the room?" I followed her up the stair, giddy at my good fortune. She opened a door and lighted a gas-jet against the wall. "I am sure you will like the apartment, monsieur," she said.
Let us go further still: the pseudo-idea would create a pseudo-problem, if M. Jourdain were to ask his professor of philosophy how the prose form and the poetry form have been superadded to that which possessed neither the one nor the other, and if he wished the professor to construct a theory of the imposition of these two forms upon this formless matter.
It is not in the fine arts alone that this false correctness is prized by narrow-minded men, by men who cannot distinguish means from ends, or what is accidental from what is essential. M. Jourdain admired correctness in fencing. "You had no business to hit me then. You must never thrust in quart till you have thrust in tierce." M. Tomes liked correctness in medical practice.
See for this Jourdain, Mémoire sur les Commencements de la Marine française sous Philippe le Bel , and C. de la Roncière, Le Blocus continental de l'Angleterre sous Philippe le Bel in Revue des Questions historiques, lx. , 401-41. More effective than Philip's efforts to combine the Continent against the English were his endeavours to stir up opposition to Edward in Britain.
This is how the Evil One tried to seduce Dominico de Gusman; he bathed him in delicious vapours, hoping thus to inspire him with notions of vain-glory; thus, too, did he to Jourdain of Saxony, who exhaled a sweet odour when saying Mass. God showed him that this phenomenon was of infernal origin, and it then ceased.
But, lest a layman's judgment might be considered insufficient, the treatise was submitted by the writer to one of the most learned of our theological experts, the same who once informed a church dignitary, who had been attempting to define his theological position, that he was a Eutychian, a fact which he seems to have been no more aware of than M. Jourdain was conscious that he had been speaking prose all his life.
"Does Mamma really think I'm like Aunt Charlotte? I won't be like her. I won't.... I'm not. There was Jimmy and there was Maurice Jourdain. But I didn't fall in love with the Proparts or the Manistys, or Norman Waugh, or Harry Craven, or Dr. Charles. Or Mr. Sutcliffe.... She said I was as bad as Aunt Charlotte. Because I said I'd go to Maurice.... I meant, just to see him.
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