THE LOVES OF GRISETTE, VERSES BY MADAME DES-HOULIERES (1678)

The following pieces, which you will as spiritual as they are playful, are on a surprising subject. Madame des Houlieres has a cat named Grisette, who deserves to be distinguished among those of her species because, if she does not entirely reason, she gives the appearance of reason, and gives so many signs of a particular discernment, that she attracts the admiration of everyone. One day a cavalier, having come to visit this Lady, began to talk about the beauty of her cat, and testified that he would like her to form an alliance with a he-cat belonging to another lady of his acquaintance, Grisette, it is said, asked this cavalier to convey her compliments, and to offer her endearments to this feline paramour whom he had intended to give to her. This he-cat belonged to Madame la Marquise de Monglas, and was called Tata. He made the following response to Grisette.
[Some of these verses also appear in Moncrif's Story of Cats]

TATA, CAT BELONGING TO MADAME THE MARQUISE DE MONTGLAS TO GRISETTE, MADAME DES-HOULIERES' CAT.

I have received your compliment,
Your nobly expressed sentiment;
And I can see well in your manners
That you despise the tiles and gutters.
And these things meet with my approval.
No other kitty is so beautiful,
No other kitty pleased me so greatly;
To no other was I so faithful
That I loved her and her alone.
When you offer me your tenderness,
Is it in good faith you speak?
Is it possible that you have interest
In an unfortunate like me?
Alas! Is this truly sincerity?
As a lover you'd regard me!
But I am forming now a fantasy;
Could I be loved? Could I be happy?
May I describe to you my anguish?
How friendship is all I can profess,
A jealous rival, enraged and ruthless,
Found me with his lover in a tryst.
Spare me from my story painful
Of his revenge and of my shame:
Pity me my dreadful destiny,
And let your pity soothe the injury
Both in my heart and my body's pain
That I can feel no more that pleasure.
I'm unworthy of you, sweet, pretty Grisette,
This pains me more than you could guess,
That I have lost my lover's fire:
A loss made more deplorable
Because it is irreparable.

GRISETTE'S RESPONSE TO TATA

How dare you recount to me
The losses you've sustained?
This is not the way to start,
No way to win a She-cat's heart
With stories pleading of your pain.
Ha! Fie! (a pack of priceless ladies
Would quite nonchalantly cry)
Ha! Fie! again, to such a lover, say we,
And Tata, I'll dare speak to you freely,
Far more am'rous are we ladies coy.
Woe to the others, and it's their misfortune,
That tomcats are disgraced like you.
Now I, made wise and tender by happy fate,
I will excuse you from pleasures more robust,
Let us make our love more chivalrous
In witty banter let us both converse,
And never will we exhaust our desires' source.
For you I will renounce the gutters and the tiles,
Where (by the way) I have never strayed,
For I am one of those proud queens who smiles,
On those who play the greatest airs, on gallant styles.
Alas! It's by these my heart is stole away,
When I learned what the others had to say,
Of your attractions and of your address
And of your incomparable Mistress.
Ever since that dangerous moment,
My every single thought you've occupied,
How to tell you? I had some designs,
To pay you some sweet compliment
From the love engendered by you in my heart.
You confirmed to me by pleasant verse
All I have heard of your talents so diverse.
In spite of your justified sadness,
I see, dear Tata, you are a shining gallant ,
My verse is doggerel, a poor response
Compared to the fine lines flowing from your talent;
But this is rare, they say, among men too,
So what should I, Grisette, be frightened of?
When by my lines you see that I love you,
And for one who seeks my love that is enough.

Grisette's reputation was spoken about everywhere; Cats of the greatest merit wanted to tell her about it. Here are some of their courtly letters.

BLONDIN, J'S CAT, TO HIS NEIGHBOR GRISETTE ON THE RHYMES OF THE PREVIOUS PAGE.

I don't know how to tell you this, when you're causing such a stir,
I don't have enough to start with, to please you with some verse,
Or to make you hear me, you are so fond of flowery words.
You play with me, but nonchalantly, your hours too far too precious,
For another Lover you cry out (‘tis said), so freely for amorous favours.
Until finally in your rhymes and verse, you affect such wise airs.
Pleasures cannot be renounced by writing verse and rhyme,
They are renounced through lack of use, they whither and we pine
From quitting pleasant banter when we suppress desire
Often we can lose ourselves without running on the eaves,
Those fields of honourable battle where, alas, you have not been.
For at this time, you follow the prudish and the proud,
And say that you're not tempted to join the common crowd.
So many He-Cats of all kinds, they search for you with care,
And though your heart is tempted, too proud, you search elsewhere.
I'm told this is what spoils you, however you disguise it,
And how skilfully you pretend that really you despise it!
Imitate your illustrious Mistress, who loved not for a moment
And convey on my behalf my courtly compliments
To her noble and great heart, as much as a heart can be
Where Love dares not hope to make itself known, do this for me.
To captivate hearts, that same Heaven that gave her birth
Also gave her the talent for charming Prose and Verse.
She has a thousand different charms, a languorous tenderness
And the fine and gallant airs hide not the amiable sadness
In her eyes, and nothing can escape its delicateness.
It's not her only talent - the beautiful Spirit that we see
She is goodness itself, she is complacency,
We mustn't cause alarm, she dislikes praise and brilliance.
Blessed is the Cat she would like to love!

MASTER GRIS, CAT OF MADAME THE DUCHESS OF BETHUNE, TO GRISETTE.

Grisette, do you know who talks to you of love?
Who you've been looking for this past day?
I am an accomplished Cat, more handsome than a Spanish Cat,
A Cat whom fortune constantly accompanies,
This, not some Wild Cat, is what you need,
Not Tata, who in the midst of pleasure languishes,
Not knowing how to have fun, or satisfy your desires,
And who would die of hunger on a pile of cheese.
It's not, after all, that he could not amuse you,
It's not that he isn't good for something,
And like the late Bertraud you could use it;
But if on such a beauteous path your love rests,
No-one will believe you, however you protest
That with meagre frolics you're content -
A cat of few needs, what evidence can you present?
Are you teasing them? It's too far to push pretence.
Such things from me you need not hide.
You too have eyes
The most gullible to disabuse.
Keep such cunning preludes
For the young cats, ever hopeful,
Who after false virtues still only grope;
Do not ridicule my nonchalant airs
They sometimes hide violent desires.
Far from condemning them, I blame the manners
Of She-Cats who say miaou and lead us on.
Since I left the roof-gutters for this more Courtly life,
That crazy courting process I now greatly despise.
And, much as I am a He-Cat, I have a delicate soul,
I want to offer my support at times, and despite my charms
I‘d not want you to fall, without a thought, into my arms;
But for you to play the humble hypocrite,
Feigning false virtues while we know that Love solicits
You, and knowing you make eyes at certain Cats.
Well, I must tell you clearly, dear Grisette,
I'd sooner love a madwoman than a hypocrite.
So take another step with me, if you would keep
Your conquest for a long time, I am not some beast.
Farewell until the first Sabbath, Grisette
When your response to this Letter I'll expect
And when you will know that if I fight
I'll hold back no longer, that I promise.

MITIN, MISS BOQUET'S CAT, TO GRISETTE.

You are making a noise, Grisette, and not the sort of song
That overly amorous She-Cats make the whole night long;
It's a noise that glory follows, that precious She-Cats always make,
This noise came to me, disturbed my solitude, kept me away.
I live free, free from the Laws of love and it worries me,
For it's clear all say you've a hundred rare qualities.
You've a gentle and tender look, they say, and not cats' usual eyes,
Yours convey a charming sweetness in their brilliant shine.
Skilful, beneficent Nature endowed you with a shining dress,
Of silvery-grey, much finer than a rabbit wears.
And you know how, with a hundred skilful tricks,
To solve the most annoying troubles that vex,
To make happy days and pleasant nights
For your learned Mistress.

We sometimes see you with light footsteps prance
Jump, leap and flutter in your dance
And as a gallant Puss you rise upon your feet
To reach the mirror where you are pleased
To consult your features – illustrious coquette! -
There you see an important cat and not some mere Grisette.
The blood of Rats and Mice has never soiled
Your most innocent and delicate paws.
And in love your manners are most beautiful, refined
You're not the sort to make the rooftops ring with scandalous cries
Announcing the shame of your lustful burning fires
Or surrender to some gutter tom's desires!
You explain in tender cries your torment and your ardour,
To your Mistress, may she take care of your pleasure,
And may a more worthy Gallant answer your desires,
And a more illustrious suitor quench your fires!
I could say more about the noise made every day
About your lovely charms and tender loves, but I might say
Too much. It makes my angry in my heart to see
So many attractions, so much love, and none of it for me.

The sounds you make ignite secret passions in my breast,
Which you, of all the tender cats, ignite my sweet Grisette.
So now it's time to highlight both my talents and my exploits,
My solitude and silence have deprived me of the honour of your choice.
Let me paint my picture for you, tell you I'm a very learned Cat,

It is too much to languish in an obscure life and, as finally at night
All Cats are grey, it is necessary to bring my face to light.
I look quite tall and very glorious; my eyes shine with such brilliance,
That people take my ardent pupils for sparkling Stars or Candles.
I am not subject to the accidents that befall imprudent cats,
Whose impetuous natures make unfortunate mishaps
There is nothing brutal , nothing savage, about my behaviour,
I have never made any bad use of my teeth or claws.
My seriousness shows too much wisdom, gives me airs,
Makes me seem like some severe and lettered Doctor,
But when it is necessary for me to please my Mistress,
I am playful, I am flattering, I kiss her, I caress;
And the most cheerful, brilliant youth can't equal my good humour.
Do you know with what discreet and reasonable air
From some good Meal I obtain my share?
I deftly press my paws upon the arms
Of those seated at the table, and employ my charms
They might have endless hunger, but I am not deterred
My ruses extract dainties from the least charitable person there.
Though I'm served with liberal hand, one of the best fed Cats,
I burn with unequalled ardour and will demonstrate, Grisette,
In the hunt, no Cat surpasses me, no cat in all of Paris,
And I anticipate the day my love will treat you to a hecatomb of mice.

REGNAULT, A'S CAT, TO GRISETTE.

I will not turn my brain upside down
To depict here my perfect figure to you;
But it's to tell you about my various exploits
That like so many He-Cats I set myself up as a Poet.
Another in soft jargon would boast of his defeat;
But I who day and night sets She-Cats alight,
No offense to the He-Cats, let me teach you, Grisette,
That I make kittens better than they make verse.

SECOND LETTER FROM TATA TO GRISETTE.

It's with good reason I am charmed by you, Grisette,
You have more wit than any Tomcat I have met;
Never, let me say, has any She-cat charmed me,
But in confidence I must ask you yet,
You surely are a flirt - you've quite disarmed me!
You can admit it and I'll not think you indiscreet.
The evil of coquetry is not that much indeed;
And such admission will not do you any hurt,
I will make my own admission if you need,
Despite my sorry loss, I'm still a flirt.
When love dies one can still write knowingly,
Gallantly, with knowledge of such love in mind,
Because, believe me, to speak happily
Especially of loving you will find,
Some visits to the roof-tiles are most necessary;
One does not become expert otherwise.
After all, it is a Tomcat's weakness
It's up to us to dare to play the tease,
And on this point there's really little need,
To flatter us on what comes natural to us,
We display this talent freely without cease.
In cats there are no virginal Lucreces,
And we never see prudishness in our species;
But I've no wish to anger thee,
So let us flirt, let us take pleasure,
In these things by fate decreed;
In short, let's love and at our leisure;
You've wit and spirit enough to please;
And I believe we belong together!
I present no danger to your honour,
Though enraged at my own misfortune,
A small advantage to Grisette, it's true;
For if you weren't so wise and tender,
I could not have attracted you.
Ah! you understand me, but let's change language,
For it seems I might offend,
Well, my dear Grisette, a suggestion -
A correspondence between us two;
May this faithful beau give satisfaction
In the respect he has for you.

GRISETTE'S RESPONSE TO TATA, ON THE SAME RHYMES.

Tata, when I give up for you
Charming Tomcats, tender too,
Planning to establish our friendship perfect,
Because a friendship is all we can do,
So why do you call me a coquette?
That reprimand is indiscreet;
Did some strange whim of yours that epithet beget
Because I have the name Grisette?
Do you some flirty heart suspect?
My name does not my nature set.

What! In order to write gallant lines to me,
You need some past experience in mind?
That it's impossible to write without some understanding
Gained from your days cavorting on the tiles
And amorous adventures in the guttering?
We feline connoisseurs think otherwise.

But we'd still have some soft weakness,
Do I really wish to flirt with you, Tata?
Alas! It's only yourself that you like to flatter,
And it's time for that mistake to cease,
I'll not hide the fact I find it an insult.
No feline Lucrece? For that matter,
There also are no feline Tarquins, Tata,
I say this without wishing to cause upset.

When Cats like you propose to please,
It should be done in better fashion,
First rid yourself of your suspicious jealousy
And stop grumbling about past passion,
Or, Tata, you cannot flirt with me.

I really do not wish to spend my days
Listening to you say that you're enraged
It's not necessary to proceed this way,
To discourage me from being sage;
And often, out of spite one may be engaged
A trifle beyond mere words and language,
In saying so, once more, nof offence is intended.

Farewell, Tata, confidante of Grisette,
Because a young women like myself,
Find no great satisfaction in your letter,
Nor satisfaction in yourself.

WORKS OF MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE DESHOULIERES
This Verse & the following have obviously been mutilated in previous Editions. We thought it necessary to restore them to Madame Deshoulieres' meaning, without claiming to correct her.

GRISETTE
To the Marechal Duke of Vivonne, who pretended to believe that Mme. Deshoulieres had made a bad Rondeau which was doing the rounds.

EPISTLE.
From my Mistress on this day I got a thousand harshnesses,
From she whose troubles used to be relieved by my caresses;
I mused all afternoon, alone in a corner and sad about my destiny,
About what had upset her, and this evening it came to me.
I jumped on her bed without her seeing I was there,
Listened carefully to the story of the state in which I saw her:
Sometimes she blanched, sometimes she blushed, other times she muttered
To herself, she was distraught, I heard the curses that she uttered.

Ah! she said in choler, what force can equal mine?
This Marshal, whose esteem I prize, thinks badly of my rhyme!
We must accept that Verses make light impressions in the head,
When we misunderstand the nature in the works we've read.
If I had the animal who penned the verse which I'm accused
By the Marechal of penning - I would make of it a muse!
Her terrible speech was halted by the hot tears that she shed,
By great waves of sorrow, so I jumped down from her bed.
I'll take up her cause and quarrel, I, her faithful, tender cat,
And I would tell you how my rage inspires me to counter your attack!
But alas! My feline talents do not lie in writing well,
Or in crafting rhymes and flourishes to eloquently tell.
Let me only try to point out that the ardent, ready zeal,
Which for my wronged Mistress, in my Puss's heart I feel
Her pain and sorrow worry me, I rise to her defence,
This affront you've done to her I feel I must avenge.
Be it, Lord, that I use my paw as a Puss, or as men do,
Do not contemptuously neglect to respond to my poor lines to you.
You are not the only one, Seigneur, with whom I correspond,
There are others who engage with me, who deign to respond
Beasts like me are equal to their wits, and what we pledge we'll gain,
As you will see, Lord, if ever you triumph over the salty waves.
And far from being content, your present glory wide to spread
I'll recall perilous places where a hundred plucked laurels adorned your head;
And I will force you to confess
That a beast which is Amarille's weakness and her chosen,
Can celebrate a conquest
And between ourselves, sometimes it's well worth certain gentlemen,
That I say not what I think for sake of prudence.

[Amarille – daughter of the Commander of Seville in plays of this period.]

LETTER FROM COCHON, THE MARECHAL DE VIVONNE'S DOG, TO GRISETTE.

What! Grisette, we couldn't believe our mind was so askew,
To think such nasty verses had been inscribed by you,
You don't know my poor deflated Marechal that well it seems.
Your unjust suspicion stung us, and with good reason;
Very well we know the talents of your Amarille
But your most severe, biting criticism will
Never make my master gnash his teeth.
But your suspicion is unjust and killing me!
My Master was offended, his soul would not have been relieved,
Had it not been your paw that traced the Letter he received.
Your Verse dispelled his troubles, and since he read your writing
He laughs, he talks, he sings, and your words he keeps reciting,
He recites them to me, looks for me wherever I am;
And along my back he runs a caressing hand.
Since then, it has always seemed to me
His soul is contented and his spirit is carefree.
I was not surprised by this, and am enchanted to have heard
The wonders that he told me about Grisette and her words.
He once paid court to your likes with assiduity
But left behind his Amarante, his Cloris and Silvie,
From Grisette to Grisette,* then his life was spent,
From Grisette to Grisette*, even at his health's expense.
Ah! It would be sweet, my dear, to cast aside hostility;
I ask if you would quickly establish commerce with me?
The old hatred between us will soon be extinguished,
And He-Cats will be jealous when antipathy's relinquished!
Let's live happily, Grisette, let us love each other,
I will come meow with you in some secret gutter;
Yes, let's live happily, Grisette, let us love each other.

[*Grisette - working-class woman or part-time prostitute]

GRISETTE'S RESPONSE TO COCHON.

So now you're taking steps and coming forward
To explain the reasons you made insults.
If it were up to the common mongrels
You'd deserve to suffer the shame for your kind words.
So it's nothing to you to annoy people and animals?
But perhaps one hope flatters you yet:
From the derangement which shattered this century's morals,
You think you can become my lover with a compliment,
Although you are a Dog, and although I am a Cat.
You are seriously deceiving yourself, Cochon,
When the Dog whose Olympus shines,
When from yapping Dogs yonder you'd have gathered the charms
For the slightest peccadillo in yourself,
You could not engage with me.
Nothing persuades me against what I owe to myself.
So I sacrifice both your Letter and yourself
To the most loving cat that gallant Benserade has just sent me.
So abandon the plan you have conceived
To disturb the repose of meowing families;
Make no mistake, you would be received
No more welcome than a Dog in a bowling game.
How surprised is your illustrious Marshal to see
A Grisette so insensitive to flourishes!
Let him not hold it ill against me,
If he had found all his Grisettes so severe,
If, like you, he had been deterred;
He'd never know the formidable mysteries
Of strong Love, put off by ungentle words.
But I liberate myself a little too much
For a precious & prudish Puss such as me.
This is what the habit of writing at a gallop does -
Among Human Gentlemen this excuse is customary.
The blessed explanation that it's impromptu,
Has, among fools, a certain virtue,
It shelters all the faults of such a work
From the critical storm.

Good day, most well-fleshed lapdog:
Should my friendship tempt you, it's offered tenderly and constant.
That's all I can for you, otherwise, I am your servant.

COCHON'S RESPONSE TO GRISETTE.

Eh, Grisette, is this the impression
Your heart makes on my nascent flame?
It's so amusing for you to rebuff my passion.
Mistreating yourself like this, smug little person,
Rebuffing a dog of my condition?
Grisette, you are not worthy of me.

Go search for favourites at your leisure
I was mad when I offered myself to you,
I, who am beautiful, white, like a swan,
I, who descend from father to son
Of the Cynical race in a straight line;
And who else can say without vanity
I am the living symbol of fidelity.
But all in vain, my words and deeds,
No point in a lover showing off,
If he lacks the art to please,
I ask myself, why should I persist
Against such an ill-starred love?

Much better you abandon yourself to your cursed destiny.
I will not disturb your fertile heat.
Go to the rooftops with that meowing company
And make your devils' sabbath there;
Let your terrible wedding's clamorous howling -
Be heard everywhere.
May your desires be satisfied by noisy coupling
May you live happy and content;
And henceforth left alone by me.
This barking vessel in its spirits is free.

But first, just write me some gallant missive;
For your accomplished verses lift my spirits,
It seems to me when Phoebus made them,
That the three Graces completed them.
That is high praise indeed from me -
It's not the empty praise one gives a dog.
My brilliant Marshal reposes in deep peace,
Far from all embarrassment,
Nonchalantly leads a fairly rounded life,
He, whose heroic arm fought in so many furious battles,
Who distinguished himself on the earth and on the waves
And this Hero who flees Neptune step by step,
In whose well-fleshed form so much wit abounds,
Whom you reproach softly,
With unrivalled modesty,
With the bitter memory
Of his loving frolics,
He is now a man about town,
Little wonder you don't like it.

GRISETTE'S RESPONSE TO COCHON

We would have known, even had you not said it,
That you come from a cynical breed,
The way that you answered what I'd writ,
Was proof enough indeed.
Nothing is sacred from your expert bite,
And nothing is granted grace;
You tear up everything despite
A twenty-centuries long space
That great talent of your race
Unaltered still burns bright.
Whether it be apocryphal or true,
That you count as your ancestors
That breed of biting Philosophers,
Though you have good teeth in your jaws,
The claws of cats are sharp-honed too,
However, I do not wish them to be used,
If you wanted you could dispense the hauteur,
That's unattractive in your nature,
Then, perhaps, with you I could be amused.
Perhaps you believe this She-cat too vulgar?
But of this notion you'll soon be disabused.
If you count Diogenes,
Crates of Thebes, and all the other hounds,
Me, whom you despise, for mine I count
All fabled Gods within my pedigree.
When the Titans daringly
Climbed up to the Heavens foolishly,
The god who threw his thundering lances,
Unwilling to to leave such things to chance,
Sent the Gods and Goddesses to earth for safety,
Away from the war that rent the heavens,
And, by the way, they obeyed him happily.
Of all the countries Egypt was chosen,
And there the gods went into hiding,
Adopting both pretty and ugly guises,
Safe from sight, those drinkers of ambrosia.
One took the figure of a bull, another was a bear,
And some in feathered finery were clad.
It was the supple figure of a female cat
That the Queen of Lovers chose to wear.
In feline form she was a comely Princess,
And to avoid earth-bound ennui,
She found contentment in the embrace
Of a lusty cat o'ercome by her beauty,
And after a while that glowing Goddess
Produced kittens in quantity.
It is from this source source
That I, Grisetter, draw my origins.-
Which of us, Cochon, tell truthfully,
Can best boast of quality?
Perhaps this discourse displeases you.
Let's talk about your wit which shows clearly through
In all your penned endeavours,
But is it your wit alone that knows how to please?
Are these brilliant lines in part due to your secretary
Whose fine phrases are so clever?
Between us, Cochon, I conjecture
That some sharp-witted Secretary,
Gives you more wit than you have.
I know his turn, I know his manner -
Lively, charming, and singular -
Apollo could not write such dazzling words.
For me, I must rely on my own knowledge
I tell you, if you've not already heard
That I do not roam the gutters or roof-ridges.

Never have sharp, scandalous cries
Come forth from my modest throat.
When Love makes me feel its fire,
And it's to my Mistress, her alone,
That my love's secrets I confide.
Then sensitive to the torment I display,
She finds for me a kind and worthy mate,
Do you consider this a destiny to despise?
If this Marshal's love is true,
He'd surely do the same for you;
If your master, the great Hero,
With spirit and valour enough for thirty,
Saw how Love disturbs his hound's repose,
For you he'd find a she-dog hot and flirty,
Instead you must make puppy-eyes
Forced by your needs, to idolize
A scratching Mistress fruitlessly.

COCHON'S RESPONSE TO GRISETTE

Grisette, finally I see, when writing to you, the necessity,
Of assembling researched things,
To leaf through the Living Notebook of the mind
Be like Girardeau and know the art of animating
Over-polished paintings.
My Master encourages my plan, he is the Harmonic deity.
Already I feel his genius divine give new flourish to my writings.
I am succoured by the beautiful fire which everywhere surrounds him,
And by the profound knowledge of his brilliant mind -
I would not even fear Apollo with such a person by my side.
I'll leave behind the trivial things I penned,
They lack both intellect and art,
Sugary writers of such moral nonsense
Will merely hurt the heart.
I see but one illustrious She-Cat who deserves
The incense of the most famous minds
One in whom so much finesse shines
That she will always be the ornament of Paris.
With a single point she flatters herself when by unknown paths
Of which one finds neither vestige nor a trace,
Descended from Venus she composes a race
Through a long line of Cats,
A strange and beautiful genealogy
Descended from deep Mythology
Without knowing where or how.
In vain she flaunts all these Venerian ancestors,
And makes her Divinity ring out loud.
Since when have Cats disputed unequalled nobility
With Dogs, also descended from Divinity,
From the Cynocephalus Egyptian god Anubis
Moderate your lofty claims, my little Goddess,
And don't pine for days of fabled Scarabs
Often a common-looking one in love
Meets our kind and is sometimes
No god, but simply a Dog and a Cat like us.
We all know that those Gods on whom your pride depends
Were transformed to Crows, Owls, Screech-owls, Dog-men
And hid in other such fantastic forms to save
Themselves from abuse in ancient mythical days.
In the Carnival of disguised Gods it's still a common masquerade.
But where do you assume that Ovid says,
In that great adventure that
Venus took the figure of a Cat?
You are not making a bad invention,
To gain credit for an ingenious deception.
I really am fixed to the fabric of the Firmament!
Placed near the Polar Circles, sovereign of my scorching lands.
Agent of Belial who presides over the Dark Realms, I am
The dread Gatekeeper of Shadows in his infernal land -
Finally, let me tell you, more clearly my name -
In Heaven I'm called Procyon, and called Cerberus in Hades!
Without fiction, and without the false help of Ovid's Metamorphosis,
I can prove my divine condition by a true Apotheosis.
Never on the starry panelling of luminous Olympus,
Will Cats ascend seeking celestial mice, when descended from Aphrodite.
Queen of Grisettes, let's leave behind our decaying ancestors.
Believe me, Grisette, without them, you are worth your price.
Without frightening you by mentioning such things as love affairs
Let my suffering, smitten heart exchange sweet nothings.

GRISETTE'S RESPONSE TO COCHON

Never had a Dog so much wisdom,
Never was a Dog so eloquent,
So much spirit, such visible affection.
Would the Immortal authors of my birth consent,
To aid me against you in my faltering obligation!

They listen to my wishes, and already I commence
To feel in my pounding heart their divine aid;
They show me your many flaws that will dissuade
This fire which would have cost my innocence.
Yes, now I notice your most maddening defect.
There's no fault greater than that unworthy weakness
That makes you renounce your learned ancestors
When you would surely be more glorious
If we could believe you had their wisdom and finesse
And that you, Cochon, could draw some nobleness
With the blood of the Gods as its source.

It's just like those humans and their foolish vanity,
They dredge up some illustrious names
That are associated with money,
From Houses glamourous and famed,
And that have an exalted history.
What if they discover names even greater still?
For sure some cunning genealogist
Will find some link, however tenuous, exists;
As often they change their clothes, they change their relatives at will;

They're governed by their pride instead of nature.
I know their faults better than they know mine.
But I did not know, Cochon, I swear,
That there were social climbers among your kind.
And here, it seems, at last we have your story:
A Cynic yesterday, a God today;
At once in heaven and on the Styx's black banks dreary
And on earth you're simultaneously placed;
Believing this, I find, is not so easy.
What! you would be these all-at-once
The great dog whose ardor burns us all?
Horrid Cerberus with triple-throated voice?
The fat dog whose baying quite unsettles,
Whose tend'rest barks to me are merely noise?
Do I seem so stupid, or so gullible,
To believe one dog is three? I'm more adroit!

When I described the gallant advernture
Venus had on the banks of the Nile,
Unlike you I resorted not to imposture.
So, you say I've not proved I'm the child
Of Venus, mother of the Graces.
And that you need more signs?
Let's leave the deeds of the first Races
In whom we still preserve the traces;
I may only have for myself
Just a single mythology.
Which book is more trustworthy,
Than a book that contains in itself
The very first Theology?

If among heaven's celestial fires
That regulate the fate of every being,
Just because your species is appearing,
Do not be so conceited you'd expire.

The Ass of ever-drunken Silenus,
A dirty, stinking he-goat, and a Scorpion hideous,
And a thousand more beasts monstrous
Like your canine constellation shine upon us.
But, Cochon, show me if you would,
A dog good enough in mind and brain,
To walk about in human shape,
As we cats did, thanks to the ancient Gods.

A handsome youth once owned a She-Cat pretty,
History says he loved her to distraction;
And every day this love-lorn madman
A hundred times kissed the mouth and paw of kitty,
But this strange love could bear no fruit;
And since he needed something more,
That poor lover was reduced
To ask the Gods to metamorphose her.

He spared no effort and he spent his earnings,
Wept a sea of tears to Goddess Venus,
And at her famous Temple in Erice
He burnt more than one sacrifice.
Until Venus finally listened to his yearning.
By excess of pity for his strange burning,
From his She-cat Venus made a woman.
Do not go to some canine ignoramus,
But know that I'm still obliged to that lovely Goddess;
For the honour given to my species,
And I can call Aesop as my witness.

But let us both forget our breeds immortal,
Let's finish, Cochon, I agree,
Let's not pursue this famous quarrel .
Be tender and to me be faithful.
Despite the Gods, I give in to troubled feelings.
These guiltless games and gallant exchanges,
Are born in us through tenderness
That cannot withstand the commerce of the senses.
So without delay let's go together
To Permessus' banks, sacred to Apollo and the Muses,
And pick those flowers that last forever.

Let's crown with them the peerless Master,
Who embellishes your words with genius divine;
And leave in the world a memory lasting
Of our uncommon love, both yours and mine.